Robin x Vlad Oneshots (Young Dracula)

Wake up call

Unconnected Short Stories
falsteloj
Ao3
1236 words

"Yeah, right," Ian scoffed. "Like a fit girl would be texting you."

"She is!" Robin protested, leaning forward in the cramped confines of Paul's car to hand his brother his mobile phone.

"Bloody hell!" Ian said. "Bruv, 'ave a look at this!"

Paul took it, eyes flickering between the road and the screen. Robin smirked smugly; they'd have to take back all their teasing. Delila wasn't just texting him, she was sending photos and inviting him round to hers; and her parents were away.

"Sure it's not just Vlad in disguise?" Paul grinned, scrolling through his inbox.

"Don't be such a dick!" He spat, reaching to grab his phone from Paul.

He never got chance. There was swerving, and the sound of Paul cursing the air blue and, then, nothing.

"Robin said he'd be here by now," Vlad sighed despondently, glancing at his wristwatch.

"I hear he's got himself a girlfriend," Ingrid said, beaming at the sight of his unhappiness. "Can't blame him for giving you the brush-off for her." She shrugged, "Or anyone."

Vlad scowled. "She's not even nice to him. I mean, what has she got that I haven't?"

Ingrid sneered at him, "I hope that's a rhetorical question. Or," she put on the voice she saved especially for mocking him with, "am I going to have to teach you about the difference between little boys and little girls?"

"You think you're – " he was interrupted by a banging at the door and he grinned triumphantly. "That'll be him now."

"Vlad," Mrs. Branagh managed, her face pale and drained. She started sobbing into one hand and he resisted the urge to demand somebody tell him what was going on. Instead he asked quietly,

"Is he – Has he – " He couldn't get the word out, couldn't even bear to think it. He'd once told Robin that his life wouldn't be worth living without him. It was still true.

Mr. Branagh put a comforting hand on his wife's back, although he looked like he might crumble at any moment himself. "They're operating now." He swallowed, visibly shaking, "on all three of them."

Chloe clutched his arm, burying her face in his shoulder, and he let her. Led her to the uncomfortable plastic chairs and sat numbly, fighting the treacherous voices in his head.

He'd never forgive himself either way.

"Robin," he whispered, when they finally let him in, voice unsteady at the sight in front of him. Robin looked so pale, so helpless. The starched white sheet was pulled to his chin, tubes and wires everywhere. The relief the blip of the heart monitor inspired was enough to make him feel he might cry.

He collapsed into the chair next to the bed and reached a hand out tentatively, there didn't seem to be anywhere he could touch Robin that wasn't swaddled in bandage or gauze or plaster cast. Finally he settled for touching fingertips to Robin's cheek for a moment, the heat reassurance that Robin hadn't given up.

"Vlad," Chloe put a hand on his shoulder, tone soft, "it's almost dawn."

He bit at his lip and watched the machine breathe for Robin.

"What if he," his voice caught, "dies when I'm not here? What if I could stop it?"

Chloe shook her head. "It's not the answer Vlad."

Vlad watched for a long, silent moment, before clenching his eyes tight shut and making reluctantly for home.

It didn't happen that day, or the next, and by the end of the week, when Ian and Paul were both able to sit up they finally took Robin off the respirator. Vlad sat with him every spare moment he could, getting the Council to forge him official Romanian medical records that convinced the hospital to let Robin spend large chunks of the day with the curtains tight shut, basked in artificial light.

Delila moved on to her next conquest and Mr. Branagh started the lengthy legal wrangling over insurance. The twins went home and Mrs. Branagh washed and ironed Robin's entire wardrobe, scouring every inch of his vacant bedroom.

Vlad talked and talked until his throat was raw, sobbed and sobbed until it felt like he couldn't possibly have any tears left to cry. The casts came off and the jagged patch of shaved hair at his temple grew back.

And still Robin didn't wake up.

The nothingness stretched on and on and on, so that he almost couldn't remember it had ever been any other way. But, then, there were noises, soft murmurs that he couldn't understand but was certain he didn't want to end.

At first they were rare, fleeting. Slowly, everything seeming like it was moments and forever at the same time, they began to come more frequently. The soothing sound washing over him and making him feel safe.

Eventually the noises started to make sense, flashes of light in the enforced darkness, with words like 'love' and 'please' and 'forever'. When they came he wanted to know more, wanted to be able to respond but, too soon, they would be gone and he'd be alone in the nothingness once more.

Vlad, he realised finally, the murmurs and the meanings and the icy touch he felt even through the nothingness. Vlad.

"And Ingrid said she was thinking of you too," Vlad paused, pulling a speculative face, "Well, I mean, she didn't, but she would have if she stopped thinking about herself for more than three minutes. But you know what she's like, she's –"

Speech failed him, his useless breath hitching as his gaze locked with dark brown eyes. "Robin," he finally stuttered, reaching for him, fingers trembling violently.

Robin tried to speak, the wet sound of swallowing filling the silence and Vlad felt a hysterical laugh burgeoning in his throat, even as tears were slipping silently down his cheeks. He swiped at his face, smiling and sobbing all at the same time as he worked out the word Robin was trying to form.

"I'm here," he choked out, "and I'm never going anywhere."

"Don't give me that look," Vlad said fondly, beaming all across his face, "You know you have to do it."

"But I'm tired," Robin protested, but shifted to the edge of the bed dutifully all the same, calves shaking at the unfamiliar press of weight as he tried to stand. He gritted his teeth, limbs feeling heavy and detached from his body.

Vlad hovered anxiously, afraid to take his eyes off Robin for a moment, lest something awful happen. Robin took an awkward step, and then another, face screwing up with the effort. Finally he judged Robin had done enough and wrapped a supportive arm around him, letting him rest all his weight against him.

Sat back on the bed, Robin stared up at him, eyes wide and trusting and Vlad sat next to him, taking Robin's hand in his own.

"You're not going to give up on me, are you?" Robin said, tone slightly disbelieving. "You really meant everything you said."

Vlad smiled crookedly, "I love you. I'm not going anywhere." He reached his other hand to Robin's nape, staring deeply into the eyes he'd feared he'd never see again, "Not even if you want me to."

"So I'm stuck with you?" Robin whispered, squeezing his hand.

"Terrible, isn't it?"

Robin smiled, moving his head closer, brushing their lips together,

"I get all the luck."