Matthew DiVigny (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dirtyandtrue) wrote2016-05-23 02:14 pm
dirtyandtrue) wrote2016-05-23 02:14 pm
PSL: A life thereafter - Continued; Part 2; Second Chapter; ect
Blaine may not have been a ghoul anymore, but he was still an agent of Matthew. An extension of his power. The dynamic between them hadn't changed much since the blonde's Embrace. It was still sex, blood, and love that swirled between them with a healthy dose of diabetic affection. Matthew's hand was still stayed and softened by the blonde's presence, which was lucky for all until you crossed that line. When that happened, sometimes Blaine became that hard edge that was dispatched to take care of problems.
Tonight he was playing that role and it had cost him a lot of blood. He was driving back on his motorcycle, everything passing by in a blur even to his enhanced vision. He had reported to Matthew that it was complete and when asked if he was alright, Blaine had to admit he was far lower on blood than he should be and barely holding on. There was a pause and then Matthew answered, "I'll get Joslin to handle it."
After that Blaine just concentrated on riding.
Blaine pulled up to the gate and through it as he'd been expected and it had opened. He zoomed up the drive and into the garage with barely any space to clear over his head. He was *hungry* and there was a heartbeat so close by. His eyes were being taken over by the monstrous hunger inside and when the door opened it didn't matter who it was. He was by his motorcycle dropping his helmet on the floor and the next moment he had flashed over and wrenched the neck of that sweet heartbeat sideways to expose the pulse to his open mouth.
Hot copper filled his mouth and his moan was just as orgasmic as his victim as he sank to his knees, taking the body with him, cradling it possessively and yet so gently. When he pulled his mouth back, it took him a minute of tenderly licking his lips and wiping the blood from his chin before he really felt like himself again. A long sigh of contentment left him before he looked down to move the body off of him.
The blood he'd just ingested ran cold and a lead weight knocked him in the chest and landed in the pit of his stomach.
A strangled noise left him as the sandy blonde hair framed a pale face slack in death. "Joslin," he whispered out, and his face crumpled into pain. His hand ran over his skin and his eyes wandered over the body. "Damnit, why were you here?" He should have known not to come. He had told Matthew what state he was in. No one should have been there except whatever victim he was suppose to-
-and a cold realization bloomed in his chest. It redoubled the pain he felt along with the quick burning Brujah rage. He had been used. This was Matthew's way to get what he wanted and he didn't want to do it himself. Blaine cursed under his breath but he couldn't let this be the end for Joslin and their Prince knew that. The blonde lifted his arm to his mouth and ripped open a gash that bled only briefly before closing up again, but it was long enough. He tilted the lolling neck back and let the blood drip into the now open mouth.
"I'm sorry for not asking," he murmured and watched the shiver of life suddenly go through the body in his lap. Eyes popped open, shocked and bewildered. He remembered it so well, his first awakening, and he made a promise to himself to give Matthew a punch right to his pretty face...
...as soon as he took care of the hunger that was quickly taking over Joslin's handsome face.
--
Blaine meant a lot to Matthew as a lover and companion alone but there was no denying how the blond influenced the court and how the raven haired Prince ruled. The area had done better for it, really, since Blaine balanced out the horrid temper and sometimes sulky, aggressive attitude, and while Matthew normally tended to his own matters, the rare one did require Blaine's more even head.
Of course, while Blaine had been nothing short of an amazing force of light and love, (ironic, considering), Matthew wasn't dumb enough to think that the former hitman would be enough. He needed his retainers too - Well, one of them anyway. Maurice was due to retire in a few weeks, what would he do then? Too old to turn, to fondly held to kill; Matthew could only set him up in a comfortable place so he could die peacefully. Joslin, however, was a different story.
He remembered Joslin's rejection of his offers before - No, Matthew, I will die old and in my bed, or young and in a fight, but I was born human, I will die human - and he's tried to respect it for as long as he could. Joslin was just as important and closely held as Maurice or Blaine, but Matthew would have him. Some part of him mourned the life of the Russian that he could hear fading from the garage, only a wall away, but he was reassured by reminding himself of everything that Joslin had instead.
Power. A place next to him. A family; the same one he'd been a part of for years. The man would adjust. They all adjusted.
Perhaps Matthew should have been more considerate in choosing who let that sexy axe fall, but Blaine was the only one. He wouldn't have Joslin turned by someone he didn't influence or control. The man meant too much. They both did. It might take them a while, but he and his delusions were sure they'd come around to eventually forgiving him.
And in the end, Matthew was still the only one that got what he wanted.
Tonight he was playing that role and it had cost him a lot of blood. He was driving back on his motorcycle, everything passing by in a blur even to his enhanced vision. He had reported to Matthew that it was complete and when asked if he was alright, Blaine had to admit he was far lower on blood than he should be and barely holding on. There was a pause and then Matthew answered, "I'll get Joslin to handle it."
After that Blaine just concentrated on riding.
Blaine pulled up to the gate and through it as he'd been expected and it had opened. He zoomed up the drive and into the garage with barely any space to clear over his head. He was *hungry* and there was a heartbeat so close by. His eyes were being taken over by the monstrous hunger inside and when the door opened it didn't matter who it was. He was by his motorcycle dropping his helmet on the floor and the next moment he had flashed over and wrenched the neck of that sweet heartbeat sideways to expose the pulse to his open mouth.
Hot copper filled his mouth and his moan was just as orgasmic as his victim as he sank to his knees, taking the body with him, cradling it possessively and yet so gently. When he pulled his mouth back, it took him a minute of tenderly licking his lips and wiping the blood from his chin before he really felt like himself again. A long sigh of contentment left him before he looked down to move the body off of him.
The blood he'd just ingested ran cold and a lead weight knocked him in the chest and landed in the pit of his stomach.
A strangled noise left him as the sandy blonde hair framed a pale face slack in death. "Joslin," he whispered out, and his face crumpled into pain. His hand ran over his skin and his eyes wandered over the body. "Damnit, why were you here?" He should have known not to come. He had told Matthew what state he was in. No one should have been there except whatever victim he was suppose to-
-and a cold realization bloomed in his chest. It redoubled the pain he felt along with the quick burning Brujah rage. He had been used. This was Matthew's way to get what he wanted and he didn't want to do it himself. Blaine cursed under his breath but he couldn't let this be the end for Joslin and their Prince knew that. The blonde lifted his arm to his mouth and ripped open a gash that bled only briefly before closing up again, but it was long enough. He tilted the lolling neck back and let the blood drip into the now open mouth.
"I'm sorry for not asking," he murmured and watched the shiver of life suddenly go through the body in his lap. Eyes popped open, shocked and bewildered. He remembered it so well, his first awakening, and he made a promise to himself to give Matthew a punch right to his pretty face...
...as soon as he took care of the hunger that was quickly taking over Joslin's handsome face.
--
Blaine meant a lot to Matthew as a lover and companion alone but there was no denying how the blond influenced the court and how the raven haired Prince ruled. The area had done better for it, really, since Blaine balanced out the horrid temper and sometimes sulky, aggressive attitude, and while Matthew normally tended to his own matters, the rare one did require Blaine's more even head.
Of course, while Blaine had been nothing short of an amazing force of light and love, (ironic, considering), Matthew wasn't dumb enough to think that the former hitman would be enough. He needed his retainers too - Well, one of them anyway. Maurice was due to retire in a few weeks, what would he do then? Too old to turn, to fondly held to kill; Matthew could only set him up in a comfortable place so he could die peacefully. Joslin, however, was a different story.
He remembered Joslin's rejection of his offers before - No, Matthew, I will die old and in my bed, or young and in a fight, but I was born human, I will die human - and he's tried to respect it for as long as he could. Joslin was just as important and closely held as Maurice or Blaine, but Matthew would have him. Some part of him mourned the life of the Russian that he could hear fading from the garage, only a wall away, but he was reassured by reminding himself of everything that Joslin had instead.
Power. A place next to him. A family; the same one he'd been a part of for years. The man would adjust. They all adjusted.
Perhaps Matthew should have been more considerate in choosing who let that sexy axe fall, but Blaine was the only one. He wouldn't have Joslin turned by someone he didn't influence or control. The man meant too much. They both did. It might take them a while, but he and his delusions were sure they'd come around to eventually forgiving him.
And in the end, Matthew was still the only one that got what he wanted.
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Joslin bolted upright and Blaine let him, though his arms were ready to reach and wrangle him down if needed. He didn't even know what to say to him. That he was sorry? He was. That he could beat the shit out of Matthew later? He doubted the elder Brujah would allow that from anyone else but Blaine. That Joslin could beat the shit out of him? He'd give him one hit, two at most. The new sire was at a loss for the right thing to do or say, so he simply stood, holding his hand out with a sympathetic look that didn't quite hide the guilt and pain in his own expression. The words bubbled out of him without really thinking. He would give the man the choice he hadn't been allowed. "Come and eat or I'll let you end it here. I won't force you."
Either way Joslin would have to make the choice quickly and Blaine would have to be even quicker about ending it if that's what the Russian chose. There was no doubt that Matthew was nearby. He had orchestrated this and he would be there for the newest fledgling with his first meal.
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The Russian was having a small panic attack. His chest heaved with the breath he no longer needed, but his mind hadn't accepted his body was dead and the movement continued. He was confused and furious. "You betrayed me," he snarled in Russian before lunging at Blaine.
The reason Matthew liked Jos so much was his fire. The man never backed down from a fight and death didn't change that. He also clung to life like it was everything; it was what had gotten him out of all those fights he never stepped back from and Death wouldn't change that either. Suicide wasn't an option. Not when there was revenge to be had against the great Conductor of the play.
For now, Joslin would settle for sinking his fangs into the blond and quenching the maddening thirst that Blaine had started. He would feed, but it wouldn't be gentle. He wasn't gentle.
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He didn't need to know Russian to understand what the pain and rage in Joslin's voice translated to.
On the heels of those words came the action. Blaine's immediate response was to redirect the energy and throw Joslin to the side, but he stopped mid-motion and let Joslin's teeth snap down on his wrist, worrying it and letting blood flow. A resigned snarl bared his teeth as he kept his neck well away from the furious Russian mouth while wrangling him to the ground. Even though he was a trained fighter Joslin wasn't used to his own speed or strength and Blaine had an easier time getting Joslin onto his back than he had when he was a newly minted ghoul and Joslin only human.
It also helped that the blood flowing into Joslin's mouth was very distracting, even though Blaine didn't want to be feeding the fledgling his blood. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked down into the painfully familiar face twisted in an expression unsuited to Joslin's normal calm. He had heard nothing in the surrounding area but he knew Matthew was there. He was waiting for something before he revealed himself, but Blaine didn't bother to wait until he could look Matt in the eye before he said in French, "Fuck you and your selfishness, Matthew."
It didn't matter if he said it now or later. The response from his 'sire' would be the same: remorseless.
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He heard Blaine's curse and had no doubt he'd hear it again before the night was over. He didn't dare make a sound in reply. From an adjacent room, the sounds of feminine voices sprung up, fresh with heat and heartbeats and the sweet scent that they carried with them.
Joslin's glare hadn't moved from Blaine as he feed, still bucking and writhing forward for more. Even in his rage, the Russian heard the woman and what was once a struggle into Blaine was a struggle away from. There were better necks to tear open. The man was nearly feral.
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It was easy to guide him when off-balanced as they sprinted out of the door with inhuman speed and turned to the next door, bursting through it. The startled shouts turned into terrified screams in mere seconds as the first woman was downed by Joslin's fierce hunger, fangs digging into her neck with no grace.
Blaine closed the door behind him and sighed, feeling more resigned than ever as the two women that remained huddled away from the horrific scene. One started to plead with him but it fell on deaf ears. Even before his embrace Blaine had had little mercy left in him. It took no time at all before the first woman fell to the ground totally drained. The final pleas of another were stifled and turned into the last orgasmic moans she'd ever utter as Joslin suddenly appeared before her, wrenching her from the spot where she crouched.
Having been so low on blood himself Blaine felt his hunger creeping up. It had been quelled by Joslin, but not satisfied. The last woman knew she was going to die, and as Blaine approached she set her jaw and trembled, making not a sound as his hand slid up her jaw. When he took her it was gentle, and she sagged against him, pushing but unable to free herself. He only took enough to render her unconscious, a small mercy for her as Joslin pulled back with a loud moan after his newest victim fell from his arms. He was sitting and about to stand when Blaine walked over and dropped the final woman into his arms. There was no hesitation as Joslin leaned over and finished what was left.
Blaine took the time to peel out of his riding leathers, covered in blood and a filthy reminder that he was still a tool, embraced or not. Once Joslin was finished, Blaine took advantage of that bloated stupor to drag the fledgling with him, accelerating down the hall and pausing only long enough to open the door to Matthew's office.
He threw Joslin towards the desk and slammed the door shut behind him, blue eyes blazing with resentment as he found the dark brown of his lover. The fury swelled in him, the Brujah anger flashing inside so hot and fast that it was just shy of impossible to wrangle it down. Blaine didn't even try. The chair was flying through the air in the next split second and his fist followed after.
It wasn't just hunger that compelled him to drink from that woman. He was going to burn a little bit more blood this night.
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What if something went wrong? He wouldn't lose either of them if he could help it.
Matthew felt Blaine before he heard him; something changed in the air, charging it and he turned around just in time to have his desk slide towards him. He jumped over the top, narrowly missing being pinned but couldn't do anything about the chair. The worst was avoided by throwing up his forearms, but the chair shattered against him and when his arms dropped, he was wide open for the shot.
The sound of the punch sounded like thunder, and it rung Matt's bell hard enough to send him flying back towards the desk unless Blaine grabbed his lapel.
An assbeating was not what he expected and he was not prepared.
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Matthew crashed into the desk and Blaine was on him, a punch aimed for the vulnerable stomach and if Matt would so oblige him by bending over double, he'd get a knee in the face as a follow-up. The intensity with which Blaine focus on his task was probably a little disturbing since he truly did love Matthew from the bottom of his undead heart, but the indignities of being used for not just this but other acts of selfishness was too much.
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Matthew's hands grabbed Blaine's shirt as they slammed back and the punch to his gut did hunch him over just in time to have the knee break his nose as his upper body and head rock back. It's only there, with hot blood running freely down his face that Matthew gets enough sense in his head to start hitting back. It was a hamhock, a heavy handed punch to the side of Blaine's head and one that he'd pull as many times as needed to get Blaine off him.
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But he burned a little blood to make those hits count. He was still absolutely furious about what had happened; however, the fury had abated just enough for good sense to peek out its head. Blaine jumped back, retreating to the far side of the room but within reach of the door if necessary. An escape route. Old habits died hard.
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When Blaine jumped back, Matthew lunged, teeth elongated and dark with his own blood. Matthew didn't get very far. Joslin intercepted him with a tackle, taking Matthew onto the floor and scampering onto his knees to start hammering on Matthew's face.
The Prince snarled and hit Joslin back, but unlike Blaine, Joslin crumpled to the side, eyes glazed. Matt grabbed him by the front of his shirt and stood, dragging the fledgling with him. He looked at Blaine for a second before punching Joslin once, twice more, dropping him on the floor between he and the blonde afterwards.
"You're lucky I don't break every bone in your hands," Matthew snarled at the both of them with wild and dark eyes, and with the blood drying on his face and shirt, half glistening in the light, he looked monstrous. Awe tended to do that. "What in the fuck is in your head? Are you /that/ surprised?" He glared down at Joslin, at his feet. "That vengeful? What fucking life did you have left. Your mind would slip and you'd spend your golden years shitting yourself."
Joslin started to get up, protesting with hate on his tongue and there wasn't a thought to Matthew kicking him across the jaw, breaking it with a sickening sound.
"Survivalism, Blaine. Not selfishness."
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He swallowed and narrowed his eyes at Matthew, taking some refuge in the anger that still burned in him. "There's nothing that can surprise me about how selfish you can be after you refused my final dying wish and had me Embraced. Try to wrap it up in pretty words all you want, my Prince."
Then he sagged, leaning back against the wall and dropped his guard. If Matthew wanted him there was really very little to stop him even if he managed to get out the door. The feeling of betrayal weighed on him and pained etched itself in the lines on his forehead, the last signs of aging before he was frozen in time forever. "Why did you have to use me to turn him? Do you really have no one else than you can use to control him?"
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The barb earned only a tensing of his jaw; Matthew knew it was bait he was meant to rise to. He almost felt like hitting him again.
"You mean family? No. I asked Lucchi, he said he wouldn't be my fang whore - that I would have to turn him myself. There are very few I'm going to trust with the lives of my family and he-," A finger was thrust down at Joslin, "He will not be taken and turned away from me by some bullshit scum of my court, as a 'favor' to be used against me, to be abused."
Matthew looked down again and squatted, wiping his nose and mouth on the sleeve of his shirt before turning Joslin's head, rolling him onto his back so that Matthew could look him in the face.
"I know what I took from you.," he muttered, switching to Russian for the man's convenience. "Peace. And now you will have many many years to find it in something other then your own death."
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Blaine slid down the wall to sit and let his head lean back. He hadn't mentioned his embrace as a barb, but simply fact. It had happened and couldn't be taken back, but it had cemented something deep in the root of the blonde's mind: Matthew could not be trusted to do what was best for anyone but himself. To know it logically was not the same as to know it on a viscerally physical level.
"You love him enough that you couldn't risk turning him yourself." It was a statement and not a question, because Blaine saw no other reason to be dragged into this. "That's still no reason to use me like a rabid dog to bite him."
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"Had I asked, you would have said no. He would have said no." It was better to ask forgiveness then permission. "Room for thought would have sabotaged it. Would have given you both an out." He looked at Blaine from under his eyebrows. "You are no rabid dog, my love, but your heart is still too kind for longevity."
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"You act like being told no would have changed this happening," he sighed. Maybe the way it happened would have changed if he had known just how serious Matthew was about turning Joslin. It would have lurked in the back of the blonde's brain what Matthew wanted. He would have been more cautious in telling him that he was on the brink. He should have just called Joslin directly like usual, but he hadn't. He had wanted to speak to Matthew. He wanted the calm security of his lover's voice. He had needed it to battle the monster inside.
Blaine's eyes were closed. He didn't want to look at him or what he had done, but the last statement had his eyes opening and looking down his nose at Matt. There was a hint of a smile on his lips that was tainted with bitterness. "There was definitely no room for thought in the state I was in. You hide your intentions so well from me sometimes it makes me question why I-"
-and he stopped the sentence before he could finish it. Whatever would have come would have been too much, verging on cruel even for this situation. He knew what kind of creature Matthew was. He had known for a long time and still loved him. Even this wouldn't change that. He switched to English as he let his head roll to the side so he could look away at some other corner of the room.
"My heart is only kind for you and the few others who have become my family here. If I can't be kind then, what's the point of my longevity at all?" He turned his head back to look the elder vampire straight in the eye. "I can't become as hard as you, Matthew. If I do, then you won't have any heart left and then where will we be?"
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Matthew shook his head at the comment and squatted down to start to pick Joslin up. The motion was stilled as Blaine cuts himself off and Matt lifts his head to look at the blonde properly.
"If I was that hard, I would have turned you both without a single thought. And I would have laughed at your despair."
There wasn't a spiteful note in it all and Matthew stood up smoothly, taking Joslin with him. He looked at Joslin then down at Blaine.
"Yes. It's selfish. I'm selfish. But that's part of what love is. The selfish need to keep the people that bring out the best in you. Maybe I should apologize for that... I won't. Open the door, I need to take him to the drawing room and clean his face before he wakes back up."
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He was steadily gazing at Matthew as the man responded. When he was done, he gave a small shake of his head. "You're hard, not cruel, amore." Then he pulled his legs up and reached back to push against the wall, rocking himself forward onto his feet. "You're hard and selfish, but when it mattered the most you did apologize to me. It was only once and I only appreciated it long after the fact, but I heard you."
Blaine walked until he stood next to the pair and reached out to gently brush the hair out of Joslin's face. A new fledgling. His to take care of. He didn't feel like he was ready for such a thing, but just like Matthew had been his sire in Lucchi's stead, he may also do the same for Joslin. The blonde didn't know what was going to happen now. Briefly he thought of Maurice and grimaced before the expression smoothed away and he turned his attention towards his lover.
His hand reached up to cup Matt's face, fingers gently curling over the strong jawline. His voice was in soft, imploring French as he tried to keep a furrow from his brow. "Please, love. No more trickery. No more deceit. I don't want to go through this again. If someone must be turned and I'm to do it, don't let me attack them like a monster."
His eyes dropped to Joslin again as he took a step back to reach for the door and open it. "I won't like it and I'll try to convince you otherwise, but I'll do it to avoid feeling like this."
Used. Beaten. Resigned.
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It would be well earned again, once the Russian started to stir.
Matthew tried to keep the emotion out of his face as he watched Blaine brush Joslin's hair back and managed to succeed until Blaine started touching him. He was always weak to contact and the fear and loneliness that had inspired the entire operation wrinkled around his eyes. There wouldn't be an apology now; even after so many years, it was a hard admission and some part of the elder vampire was sure that he tested those that loved him in an effort to see how true that love was. Blaine had proved everything he needed to in the beginning - the deaths that came afterwards were.. reassurance.
His mouth opened, and then shut. Not being sure what would come out was a sign that nothing should come out at all, so Matthew headed out and towards the front parlor with the comfy chairs, the piano and the bar, hoping that Blaine would follow behind. Matt's throat burned for a drink and his eyes dropped to the limp, heavy body in his arms. He wanted something that burned, instead of something that sated and he sighed as he entered the room, laying Joslin down on the only two seater love seat in the room.
"I found him when he was a boy. They'd beaten him at the orphanage, sold him into the sex trade where he was beaten and worse." Matt looked at the man for a long moment before heading towards the bar. "He was barefoot and bleeding in the snow, running away into the forest under the cover of darkness.. I was out hunting someone, already killed them - I was heading back to town and I stumbled across him, this little stick of a boy with the meanest look on that I've ever seen on a child's face." Behind the bar he went to get a few things; namely a drink. "I gave him my cloak. Told him I would take him someplace safe and warm.."
He paused, glass already prepped with a few cubes of ice and the whiskey bottle in his hand, dark eyes raising up to Blaine with a face shadowed in guilt.
"The ground is a terribly cold place. I can't leave him for the worms."
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Not hesitating to follow Matthew to the parlor, he found his hand once again running over the smooth forehead of the unconscious man. His anger was there, it was always lurking, but it wasn't boiling over. He had accepted what had happened... at least until Joslin woke up.
While Matthew told the story of how he found the boy, Blaine cast a glance at him. It was his first time hearing it all at once. He had pieced together most of it over the years from drunk ramblings, but a cohesive retelling was new to him. He held back from saying anything for a minute, throwing out word after word and sentence after sentence of sarcastic barbs and dry observations before they passed his lips. He went to the bar to get a cloth and wet it, pausing while he was standing next to his lover.
He let out a sigh and a small, wistful smile curled up one lip. "No parent wants to outlive their child," Blaine said, catching those guilt ridden eyes. "I understand, amore."
Then he turned with rag in hand and returned to the loveseat. Settling lightly on the edge he began to wipe up the dried and drying blood that had smeared Joslin's jaw, neck, and chest. He set on the task with a gentle efficiency that kept his mind blissfully blank.
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Matthew started into his glass and stayed silent. Joslin was the one that deserved the explanation, if he was willing to hear it.
It took about five of the longest minutes Matthew had felt in a while before Joslin popped back into life. Popped was the best word, as the smaller man launched himself off the couch as soon as his consciousness awoke. Instantly his fangs were out, grey eyes dilated and wild as they bounced between the men, and took in where they were.
"What... what have you done to me?" he half snarled, half pleaded at Blaine.
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So now Matthew kept his own adopted son and Blaine could only stare into space and wonder if he would create his own surrogate family. He had a lover, a comrade in arms, but his Family was so small. No blood family was here, or wouldn't be for a hundred years. No Org Family. No Clarice.
Joslin was up and away as soon as his brain clicked on. It was always an immediate thing from Blaine's experience. There was no groggy, slow rising wave of wakefulness. It was nothing and then everything. His eyes focused on the Russian knowing that expression was probably the one he had leveled at Matthew. Angry, pained, shocked, pleading.
"I came back too hungry to control myself and you were the first person I saw." Blaine answered softly, resisting the urge to flick his eyes towards Matthew with consternation. "I would have felt guiltier letting you stay dead than changing you, so I embraced you."
He reached up to run a hand through his hair and let his eyes search the other man's face. It was the simplest explanation and some of the guilt and grief he felt about it played in the line of his mouth and corners of his eyes.
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"I'll make you regret your mercy- I would have rather died then help your guilt!" Joslin lunged at Blaine, fist swinging. Had Matt been closer, there was no doubt that the fledgling would have gone for him, but Joslin wasn't about to waste his opportunity.
The man had a vicious temper, however tightly controlled in life. Death amplified that Tank mentality and Joslin felt prepared to brawl. Everything he knew about Vampires was forgotten the moment he became one.
Matthew jumped the bar as soon as Joslin attacked, but he wanted to give Blaine a chance to handle it.
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His arm came up and slapped the fist with a violent swat that threw Joslin's balance off and kept him spinning around. He lifted his leg and kicked the man squarely in the back, launching him away until he tumbled on the ground nearly face first. The blonde was right after him, slamming the newly healed face into the floor and keeping a knee on Joslin's back and arm to pin him.
By the time Blaine felt the face slamming had sufficiently dazed the fledgling, the nose was nearly a pulp and there may have been a few teeth missing. His own frustration at being used might have leaked out just a bit.
He stopped with the side of Joslin's face shoved into the floor. He stared down at him and spoke matter-of-factly. "You did die. I killed you. If you think it was mercy that brought you back you learned nothing living with Matthew for so long."
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Joslin groaned, head swimming, and muttered through the blood and teeth and pain, "I should have stayed dead."
Matthew spoke up then, arms falling away so he could slip his hands in his pockets. "It was design. And it was mine." Joslin turned one bloodshot eye towards Matthew and let out a weak, wheezing laugh.
"You weren't supposed to damn me," he managed in very rough Russian. A cut or something must be bleeding into his eye because it was glassed over with the red tint of Vampire tears.
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The hand that had been at the back of Joslin's head forcing it down lightened. Fingers gently stroked the sandy hair as the hand moved away and Blaine stood up. He took a few steps back and ran a hand through his hair while trying to control the emotions on his face. You weren't supposed to damn me.
A couple more steps and Blaine flopped back down on the couch. He let his head fall to rest on the back of the couch and looked at the ceiling for a few seconds before he focused back on Joslin. His face had settled into displeased but his guilt and regret were tucked away. "And now what's next in your design?" he asked softly, watching Joslin pull himself together and preparing for whatever the fledgling might try next.
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"What's next?" Matthew asked softly, dark eyes still on the man at his feet. "We build him back up. Make him a part of the family, properly... Where he belongs." Matthew hiked up his trousers legs as he squatted down to talk to the Russian.
"You will always be part of my family, dear Jos. I couldn't let you go the same way Maurice went."
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"Ahhh, Matt," Blaine said with a sigh at the mention of Maurice. "People don't lose their place in the family when they die for good. You always remember them."
There was a sad tint to his face as his lip lifted and failed to form a smile because he couldn't help but wonder if that wasn't true when you lived several lifetimes. He leaned further forward to look intently at the prone body on the floor. "I'll help you adjust and it isn't because of guilt. I love you like a brother. You'll always be part of my family, Jos."
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It felt like Blaine's assertion to the Russian had more heart in it somehow, and the fact that he couldn't readily identify why or what that was built a slow burning fury. Perhaps because, after going through it again and being judged by someone who wasn't his victim, he had started to feel guilty, somewhere inside.
Jos pushed to his knees, limbs trembling in the space between his push back and his push up, standing to his full, unimpressive height. Matthew rose with him. He wished he couldn't blame Blaine, but the wound, the betrayal from them both was too fresh.
"There is no adjusting to being an abomination," he said, staring at Matt stubbornly, chin jutted out like a proud little boy.
"You know that's not what we are," Matthew cautioned darkly.
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At Joslin's stubborn resistance Blaine's face went blank for a moment. He had thought of himself as a monster sometimes, but that was even before he had gotten fangs. Never had he thought of himself or Matthew as an abomination.
"So when I got thrown out of the hospital window and shoved into the limo you drove all those years ago I went from a friend to an abomination to you?" he asked, his face deceptively neutral as he eyed the petulant man in front of him. "Was at the time we've spent together all these years just you tolerating me? Matthew?"