Vampyres Will Never Hurt You.

Vampyres Will Never Hurt You Chapter 4: Teleporters Are Assholes

Double post tonight because I owe people who actually read this stuff. Anyhoo, carrying on with this chapter. Just a warning, but there's gonna be an insane amount of fluff throughout the chapters, but.. it's for the best. Way needs the attention.  Now, onwards with the story!

The next morning I was awakened to a loud thump in the living room, and a crashing sound. A growl left my throat and I rolled over, pulling the covers over my ears.

More crashing and a groan, then something that sounded remarkably like drunken muttering.

After a few minutes of listening to the irritating clamour outside I finally shoved the sheets off of myself, standing to my feet and opening the door to search for the source of the morning’s dilemma. Tangled up in a curtain and cursing loudly was Dante, looking worse than wear and holding a brown paper bag that presumably held some kind of alcoholic beverage, from the looks of it. The white-haired drunkard fell silent after a couple moments and, with red-rimmed eyes, looked up slowly as I leaned against the wall, a hand pressed against my face.

“My god, this isn’t happening….”

“’Allo, uh… y’mind getting’ me outta a little mess?” drabbled Dante, a pleading look on his face. “How long have you been here, Dante? …. Or else, how long have you been stuck here?” Probably fell into the curtain and managed to get himself tangled. Or he tried to fight the curtain for some inexplicable reason. “Actually, wait here. I’ll go get Way…” Shaking my head, I removed myself from the wall as Dante gave a cry of protest and struggled against the drapes, then disappeared down the corridor to find Way’s door, knocking on it gingerly.

“Hey, uh, Way? We’ve got a dilemma out here…” I called out. A groan was heard from inside. “Coming… I’ll be a second or two.”

Seemingly enough Way wasn’t a morning person, I think, even in the comfort of his own home.

Well it wasn’t really his home, more like just a work campus. Did he even have any other places, or was it just here where he kept all his things for previous cases? I immediately assumed he had another place somewhere that he used as a private base. It seemed more likely for him, anyway, just in case he didn’t have any work and needed time off or something…

The door soon opened and a fuzzy-haired Way gazed down sleepily at me, eyes blinking every so often as he leaned against the door frame. He was still wearing the Rocky Horror shirt from yesterday (or was it the day before?), and a pair of black sleeping pants with yellow Batman symbols hung low on his hips, his shirt just managing to cover his skin. God, even when he was half-asleep he was that good-looking… What the hell am I thinking? He’s a suspect already- no, he was a suspect from the start. But really, Way was a fine specimen of the human race, anyone would admit.

Come to think, Dante would even probably agree in the state he is right now… I shook my head a bit and looked up. “Dante’s supposedly drunk and stuck in a curtain.” I managed to get out before stepping out of the way for the detective who strode out immediately, the dazed look in his eyes disappearing. “Does he have anything that looks like alcohol on him?” “Brown paper bag, sort of a bottle-ish shape to it.” I responded, following after him. “Oh god, after I repeatedly told him not to, he fucking….” Way muttered to himself as he confronted the tangled cop, suddenly slapping his hand onto his face in irritation. “You have to be kidding me.”

Seconds later Dante let out a surprised yelp as the detective’s hands started to frisk him, confiscating the bag and searching him for anything else, then taking out a bottle of clear liquid from the bag. “Seriously. How’d he even manage to get this stuff?” He asked himself. My eyebrows furrowed a bit at the sight of the bottle. My first guess was vodka, but to my surprise when I stepped over to examine the bottle there was no strong odour that vodka would give off. “What…? Way, what exactly is this?” “HW, the strong stuff. Jesus, Dante--” Way passed the bottle to me before starting to untangle the police officer, “How’d you even get this stuff? That’s double- plus, you should be knocked out right now…” “Mm, too strong ‘affirst… Watered it down ‘bit…” Slurred Dante, stretching his long limbs once before passing out spontaneously.