Die Ärzte One-Shots

Nosferatu (Farin x Bela)

Die ist auf Englisch, von 2010 und das Profil des Autors hieß "autiotalo" die Person hat sich aber leider gelöscht...  mir gefällt vor allem an anfang noch die anspielung auf the smiths da es ja von sumisu handelt, allerdings hätte ich das ende anders geschrieben :D

Nosferatu (Bela x Farin)

"This is all your fault, you know."

Bela sat on a swivel chair in Farin's dressing room, swinging back and forth as he leafed through the pages of a magazine on hairstyles. He hoped to God that it belonged to the make-up artist and not to Farin. He paused to admire one of the models, and then progressed to an article on blunt cuts. Idly he wondered if he could get away with more layers in his hair.

"Really," he said, looking from the magazine to his reflection and then measuring a strand of hair from his fringe with his fingers.

"Yes! What has Nosferatu got to do with The Smiths, for fuck's sake? It's hardly relevant. I should have made a video with, I don't know, hanging DJs in Carlisle, Dublin, Dundee, Humberside... That would have been topical, at least. But vampires? That's your fault. Morbid. Moribund, too. This is a serious song, maybe, and I look like a – a skinned hare... Are you even listening to me?"

"His master's disembodied voice," Bela said, and closed the magazine. "Yes, master. I am listening, master."

"Shut up. And I'm not disembodied."

Bela grinned. It was very easy to irritate Farin, and pretending to be subservient was by far the quickest method. "I can't see you, dumbass. Stop messing with your hair and let me look."

"It's not my hair, it's these nails," Farin grumbled. "I want your professional opinion, yes? Not your personal opinion. And don't laugh."

"My professional opinion as what? I'm not a professional vampire, Jan."

"No, but you're a typecast vampire." Some shuffling, and then around the corner of the screen at the other end of the room there came a pale, elegant hand with inch-and-a-half nails curving like claws.

Bela sat up straight. "Fuck, man. Hope you don't have to play guitar in this video. Those nails would need stunt doubles."

The fingers tapped impatiently, the nails scraping on the wooden screen. Bela shivered and shut up.

Farin emerged to stand, self-conscious, a good distance from Bela, with one hand plucking at the nap of his black velvet frockcoat. He only stopped when he realised that the white greasepaint was transferring itself in smudges from his fingers onto the coat. Instead, he fiddled with the buttons, leaving tiny dulled patches where he touched them.

The magazine slid from Bela's lap. He stared, utterly transfixed, at the creature before him. White, white skin and heavy black eye make-up, touches of grey shadow blended beneath the cheekbones and in the hollows of the temples, pale grey lips. Pointed ears like a bat's - not shapely like elf-ears, but still delicate. And the fangs - a rodent's teeth, not the wickedly sharp canine incisors that all other vampires wore – the fangs pressed down enough to dent the lower lip.

He didn't think he'd ever seen Farin look quite so fragile, nor so uncertain.

An uncertainty that was rapidly turning into panic, Bela realised with a start. Farin came a little closer, with small, measured steps unlike his usual loping gait, and then he stopped and lifted his hands, pleading.

Bela found his voice. "You look like Albin Grau's wet dream."

"Is that a compliment?"

"You look like one of my wet dreams."