Archive of Our Own

Twigs snap as he stumbles through the forest, feeling claws retract and fur give way to skin. His bones ache and crack and shift back into place, and as the sun rises, Eddison Watts is - to the eye of any stranger - human once more. He winces as the adrenaline wears off and the gashes and bites that litter his body finally start to hurt. Were they inflicted by an animal, or a weapon even, they wouldn’t be nearly as bad. They would sting as they stitched themselves up, muscle and sinew reforming as the regenerative agent in his veins kicked into gear, but he wouldn’t have to worry about blood loss at least.

As it was, they stayed open, angry and red and weeping. No, these were inflicted by one of his own kind, and Eddie knows they’ll be a thorn in his side for at least a week, if he’s lucky. His head throbs. His mouth tastes like iron, and he’s not sure if it’s from the fight or if he encountered some unfortunate innocent in the woods last night as he ran away with his tail between his legs. He isn’t sure where he’s going, where his aching feet are taking him - maybe just a quiet place to bleed out alone - but he knows he can’t go back, so he keeps trudging forward.

He’s still vaguely aware of himself when he encounters a path and a gate flanked by stone tigers. He looks up, craning his neck at the large manor that lies within the walls, and everything hits him all at once. A wave of nausea crashes over him, and he clutches the scratch on his chest as the black creeping at the edges of his vision takes over completely.

When he opens his eyes, Eddie finds himself staring at a ceiling he’s never seen. It’s wooden and ornate, with delicate fractal patterns carved into it. He blinks the sleep away and winces as he sits himself up to take stock of his surroundings. He sits in a four-poster bed, plush and warm and far more expensive than any bed he’s ever been in. He wonders vaguely if this is a dream, some last gentle hurrah before his wounds kill him.

But then there is a soft knock on the door, and a young woman pokes her head inside the room.

“You’re awake!” She says, relief flooding her face. “Thank goodness. Please, wait just a moment.”

And like that, she’s gone again, the door closed behind her. Eddie briefly considers calling after her, pulling himself out of bed, and asking where the hell he is, but his legs feel like bricks and his head feels like rubber, so he decides to stay put. It’s only a minute before the door opens again, and a new face greets him.

He’s a tall, broad-shouldered man with pale skin and soft blue eyes. His hair is blonde, so light that Eddie wonders if perhaps he’s seeing things, or if maybe the sun’s rays have simply made a home in the curls that cascade around his shoulders. He looks nice, well put together, and his outfit gives him a certain air of money. The man smiles when he sees that Eddie is awake, and it occurs to him that it has been a very long time since he’s seen a smile completely devoid of fangs.

"My gardener found you on the road outside our gate a few days ago," he says softly, making his way over and sitting down in a chair at Eddie’s bedside. "You were wounded something fierce. It looked like you'd been attacked by wolves."

Eddie blinks at him and finally takes a look at himself. There's a large bandage wrapped around his torso, and some on his forearms. He doesn't tell the stranger that it hadn’t been wolves, and least not the normal kind, or that it was his own fault he'd been scratched to hell and back. His own fault for starting that fight.

"Where are my manners?" the man shakes his head with an awkward chuckle. "My name is Volt. Er," he looks sheepish. "Viscount Volt Circia. But please, just call me Volt."

"...Eddie," he croaks.

"Hello, Eddie," Volt says, with a smile that sings Welcome home.

"...I didn't mean to intrude," Eddie says weakly. "I can be gone in an hour-"

Volt doesn't let him finish. "Absolutely not!" His eyes are wide with shock and concern. "Your injuries were severe. I couldn't live with myself if I let you leave before the doctors were sure you'd recovered."

"Thank you, but I'm fine, really-"

"You're not intruding," Volt says. "The manor is expansive, you've no idea how many empty rooms we have."

Eddie sighs. Clearly, the Viscount is not going to take no for an answer. "Okay."

"Good," the stress seems to melt from Volt's shoulders. "Do you have any family? Anyone I can write to, to let them know you're here?"

Eddie begins to open his mouth, and then shuts it. Just last month, he would have given him Dorian's name, or hell, even Tony's. But that was last month, before the fight that brought him here.

"Not anymore," he says quietly.

The Viscount's face softens, his eyes creasing and his mouth turning down into the first real frown Eddie's seen on the man. "I see."

A silence settles over them, and the reality of the situation starts to wash over Eddie. He has no one to go back to. No home, no pack, not anymore. He'd been losing his grip for a while; he knew he was, but it hadn't been enough to convince him to step back and fix it. As much as he hates to admit it, being a leader means more than just keeping everyone fed, and he knows it.

It shouldn't have been a surprise when Dorian confronted him. Told him that he needed to either take a break and ask for help, or step down and let someone else take over. Eddie had insisted he didn't need help, and he certainly didn't need to step down as leader. He remembers the bite in his voice when he'd shouted at Dorian, told him that if he thought he could do a better job than Eddie, then he should say it with his fucking teeth.

“If you don't have anywhere to go,” Volt says softly, “You're welcome to stay here.”

“I couldn't impose like that,” Eddie says quickly. The offer is wonderful, but he can't do that to this stranger. It may be the morning after the full moon, but there will be another one in a month, and another after that. For the rest of his life. He doesn't want to put the Viscount, or any of his staff, at risk. What he needs is to find a place alone. Or another pack, somewhere. 

“You aren't imposing at all,” Volt's eyes are soft. “I promise. I never get guests, I have plenty of empty beds. This room is yours, for as long as you need it.”

Eddie weighs his options. He could always leave before the full moon, head out, and be on his way before he had the chance to hurt anyone. It does sound nice to have a place to stay while he recovers. He nods.

“Okay. Thank you.”

The next day, Eddie is out of bed, healing enough to stand, and the Viscount is making him stay still and straight while a tailor takes his measurements. The tailor is quiet and reserved, but he seems to know his stuff. He is efficient, jotting down numbers every so often and nodding to himself.

“If you're going to be living here, then it's only right I get you some proper clothes,” Volt says, chipper. Then he flushes a bit. “The gardener said you were entirely naked when he found you.”

Eddie's face goes red. “Ah,” is all he can manage to say. He's been wearing a simple shirt and pants that Volt says were from his own closet, but his dimensions are different than Eddie's, and they don't fit him very well.

When the tailor is finished, he stands and gathers his tools and his notebook. “That should be it,” he says. “I'll be able to have something altered for him in a day or so.”

Volt nods brightly. “Thank you so much, Casper.”

“Of course, Lord Circia.”

Casper gives Eddie one last appraising look before leaving the room, head down to reread the measurements he took, muttering to himself about fabric.

“Anything else you need me for?” Eddie asks, not meaning for it to sound nearly as annoyed as it does.

Volt doesn't seem to mind. “No, for now all you need to do is rest. I'd like to call a cobbler if you don't mind, but that can wait until tomorrow. Once you've got some proper clothing and are able to walk, I'd love to give you a tour of the manor.”

Eddie slides back into the bed, the slowly healing gash on his chest protesting slightly, and he sighs as his head hits the pillow.

“Sounds nice,” he says, and he feels his eyes drifting closed as Volt leaves the room.

Three days later, Eddie is up out of bed and walking. He’s wearing the new clothes that have been tailored for him, nothing too fancy, but they’re clean and they fit him better than any clothing he’s ever had before. He leaves the forest green vest unbuttoned, preferring the free movement it affords him, but Volt still gives him an appraising look that says he looks just as good as if it were buttoned properly. He’s got new boots, suited for actual wear in the forest like he’d asked, and he’s excited to get the chance to stretch his legs and use them.

The manor is nice, Eddie will give him that. It’s expansive, and certainly expensive, but it feels homey in its own way. Rich hardwood floors stretch through the rooms, topped with ornate floral rugs that span the length of the hallways, but the choices of colors in all the decor feel personal to Volt, rather than fitting whatever the latest style may be. Volt leads him around with all the elegance befitting a Viscount, but all the warmth of a friend. He’s never had a stranger treat him with such open kindness, and it feels nice for a change.

They pass a painting in one hallway, and it stops Eddie for a moment. Three faces look down at him, prim and proper. On the right stands a man with cropped dark hair and light blue eyes, his hand on the shoulder of the young boy in front of him. The boy has his eyes, but those unmistakable blonde curls of his belong to what must be his mother, standing on the left.

“My parents,” Volt says, stopping to join Eddie and looking up at the portrait with a deep fondness. Then he smiles, and gestures to the little boy. “And me, of course.”

“They look kind,” Eddie says. He’s not sure why, but it’s the only word that comes to mind when he looks at them.

“They were,” Volt murmurs, and the fondness starts to look sad.

Eddie doesn’t push. He knows that look too well. Volt is grown, it isn’t a shock that his parents are no longer around, though Eddie does feel sympathy for him. It does strike him, however, that for a man of Volt’s age and status, he doesn’t seem to have any children of his own yet.

“And you live here… alone?” Eddie asks.

“Alone?” Volt chuckles. “Of course not! I have the most wonderful staff; they are family to me.”

“But no children? No wife? This house is so big, and there’s plenty of accomplished women in the next county over. I’m sure there’s someone you’ve got your eyes on.”

Volt smiles, but it looks a little strained. “I suppose I’ve never really had an interest in it.”

“I guess that’s something we have in common, then,” Eddie says with a shrug.

Volt’s favorite place to show off is the garden. It’s late spring, almost summer, and most of the flowers are still in full bloom. Eddie doesn’t expect to like it nearly as much as he does. Birds sing in the trees as butterflies move from bush to bush, and as Eddie breathes in, all he can smell is peace. No underlying scent of iron, no blood leftover from a fight or a kill. No high tensions and packmates arguing. It’s just him, and Volt, in the garden.

“Doesn’t Calahan just do such a wonderful job? The plants simply sing under his guidance,” Volt says with a proud smile.

Eddie hasn’t met Calahan himself, but Volt sings his praises any time the matter of gardening and groundskeeping comes up. Eddie had been under the impression that groundskeepers usually only handled the wider range of things, but it seemed that this Calahan liked to get into the finer details, and Volt was more than happy to oblige him.

Volt wanders over to a bed of rich reds, whites, and pinks, and Eddie follows him, curious. The flowers are small, grown in bunches, and the colors make Eddie’s breath catch. Some of them are solid, but some of the petals are light around the edges and dark in the center, giving them a starburst effect he’s never seen before. Volt picks one delicately and twirls it in his fingers before holding it out to Eddie.

“These are geraniums,” Volt says as Eddie takes the flower to study the colors. “I’m no expert myself, but I’ve heard that in the language of flowers, they symbolize friendship and good health.”

Eddie smirks. “That’s quite sentimental of you,” he says.

Volt’s cheeks grow pink, and he laughs. “Well, it’s true. I am your friend, if you’ll have me as such.”

Eddie tucks the geranium into the pocket of his vest; his smile softens. “I’d like that.”

Two weeks after waking up in the manor, Eddie finds himself in the library with Volt. The Viscount had been excited to show him his extensive collection, and Eddie is happy to have something to talk about that isn't pack politics or a list of tasks piling up to keep all of them happy. It's a nice change of pace.

He takes a seat in a big, velvet armchair, a book on mixology in his hands. He tucks his legs up into the chair with him, curling into the side. Volt is sitting in a chair just like it next to Eddie, a book of poems in his hands. His favorite, he'd said. They sit there in comfortable silence, neither saying a word. For the first time, Eddie realizes, he feels safe.

"Can I say something... strange?" Volt asks, finally breaking the silence.

"Be my guest," Eddie says.

"Forgive me if it's a bit embarrassing, but, well," he chews his lip for a moment. "Ever since I met you, it's felt like I've known you my entire life. You've hardly been here, and yet..." Volt smiles. "Well. You've been wonderful company."

Eddie blinks, taken aback. He's never been wonderful company before. He's hardly even been tolerable company. The pack may have relied on him at one point, but that didn't mean they liked him. That fact had never bothered Eddie. He didn't need them to like him; he kept everyone safe and fed, and that was what mattered.

Things are different with Volt. The days are slow and easy - gentle. They talk about anything and everything, and Volt doesn't pry about his past. He leads Eddie around the manor with a sparkle in his eyes and a smile on his lips, and Eddie follows him like there's nowhere he'd rather be.

"I think I know what you mean," Eddie murmurs. "You're not so bad yourself."

Volt beams, and it occurs to Eddie that he likes it. He likes making someone smile. He likes making Volt smile.

Eddie leaves two days before the full moon. He packs up a little brown bag Volt had said he could have, just the clothes he'd been gifted and nothing more, and heads for the front gate. He can't stay; he knows this. As nice as his time at the manor has been, his time is up. With no other werewolf near to keep him in check, Eddie knows the safest thing to do is leave.

He tries, really he does, but he evidently catches more attention from the staff than he'd intended, and he doesn't manage to make it out before he hears a pair of feet running down the path behind him. Volt's white gloved hand catches Eddie's wrist and holds tight.

“Where are you going?” He asks, but by the sad tone, it's clear he's already figured it out.

“I have to leave,” is all Eddie says in reply.

"Is it something I did?" Volt asks, his voice strained.

Eddie's heart tugs. "No," he says quickly. "No, God, no, it's not you. It's..." he doesn't know what to say.

This is the safest course of action, it is. Volt has been so welcoming and so kind, and they clicked so easily, but he's still just a human. He's just a human, and Eddie can't stand the idea of hurting him, of losing control under that damn moonlight and tearing him apart. So he compromises, and decides only to hurt his feelings.

"I just have to go," he says.

"But you don't," the Viscount pleads. "You said yourself you have nowhere else to go. I said that room is yours, for as long as you need, and I meant it."

He's lonely. Eddie knows he is. He has no family of his own either, just this sprawling estate and a dedicated staff and empty, silent halls. He's lonely, but he's alive, and Eddie doesn't want to be the reason that changes.

Eddie chews on his lip. He doesn't know what to say, how to explain. "You'll get hurt if I stay," he settles on.

Volt's face wrinkles in confusion. "How?" he asks, bewildered. "How on- Eddie, if you're hiding from someone, it's okay, I can help-"

"No, you can't," Eddie snaps, the proximity of the looming full moon already aggravating him. "It's not... I'm not hiding from anyone. I'm just trying not to let you get caught in the middle of-"

"You're not hiding, but there's something to get caught in the middle of? Which is it, Eddie? Are you in danger?"

Eddie can't stop the frustrated growl that rips from his throat, and he clenches his fists; his nails, threatening to sharpen into claws, dig into his palms. "It's me!" he shouts. "I'm the danger, Volt. I'm a danger to you, to your staff, to every single person I'm stupid enough to get close to."

Volt stares at him in pained disbelief, and then, impossibly, it seems to dawn on him. His eyes widen slowly. When he speaks, his voice is a shaky whisper.

"You weren't attacked by wolves, were you?"

Eddie's shoulders slump, defeated. "No," he breathes. "I wasn't attacked by wolves."

"That's why you wanted to leave," Volt says slowly, clearly mulling over all the warning signs in his head.

"I didn't want you to get involved. I don't want you to get involved. It's my problem, not yours."

"You're... a lycanthrope."

Eddie huffs out a half-laugh at the scientific term. "Yeah. You could call it that. Lycanthrope, werewolf, whatever."

He closes his eyes and braces himself for the inevitable. The panicked breathing, the slow backing away, the trembling. The wide eyes full of fear and, always so prevalent through the terror, disgust. For the pleas, or the threats, or simply the fall of feet as they flee. For the-

The gentle hand on his arm

Eddie opens his eyes, yellow now from the stress, and meets Volt's. He's looking at Eddie with all the sympathy and care in the world. Eddie sucks in a shuddering breath.

"Let me help," Volt whispers. "Please. Please don't leave."

Eddie laughs bitterly. "You can't help," he says. "There's no cure. At least not one anyone's ever found. Unless you can stop the full moon from happening tonight-"

Volt squeezes his arm. "I admit I can't stop the moon," he interrupts, optimistic. "But I have a cellar. There are rooms designed to keep things safe. Money, valuables. They have heavy doors and no windows. I don't use most of them, I don't keep staff down there."

It's strange, Eddie thinks, hearing someone say all this. For anyone to go out of their way for him is... new. Unthinkable. It makes his heart feel full in a way he never thought was possible.

"I appreciate it," he says softly. "I really do. But I... I can't guarantee that would be enough. If the doors were made of silver, that might work, but..."

Volt huffs, desperate. "They're iron," he says, and curses under his breath. "If I had time, I could have one remade-"

Gently, careful of his nails becoming pointed and sharp, Eddie pulls Volt's hand from his arm, holding it in front of him between both of his own.

"I have to go," he murmurs. "It's the only solution."

Volt's eyes shine, and Eddie realizes tears are forming there. "You're my first friend in such a long time, Eddie." He bites his lip. "You're my only friend."

Eddie tries to smile at him, but it just looks sad. "You barely know me," he reasons, even though he knows he feels the same.

"I know," Volt breathes, his eyes falling to their hands, clasped together. "I know, and I know I can't stop you from leaving." The words hang in the air.

"I wish I didn't have to," Eddie admits, and he feels more scared than he ever has. Volt's eyes trail back up to meet his, and the fear melts away.

"Please come back. When it's over. When you're safe. Please."

Eddie's breath stutters. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears. "Okay," he breathes.

Eddie does come back. He almost doesn't. He wrestles with it in his mind all the next morning as he takes his sewing kit out and closes a hole in one of his sleeves, ripped open when he'd been careless taking it off the night before, and a claw had caught the fabric. He could be alone - he knows he could. He wouldn't be too happy, but he could manage just fine. He wouldn't be putting Volt in danger, or anyone on the estate property, for that matter. Just himself. Only himself.

But when he finds himself instinctually licking the gash on his arm he'd gotten from a sharp branch the night before, he thinks back to waking up bandaged in that four-poster bed, and Volt's gentle smile when he walked in the room.

So he finds himself back at the Circia Estate, staring up at the great iron gates and the tigers that flank each side. There's someone stationed here today, and Eddie doesn't remember there ever being someone there in the month he'd been staying in the manor. He takes Eddie's name and heads inside the manor, and when he returns, he opens the gate for him. Eddie's barely in the yard when the front doors fly open, and a shock of blonde hair comes sprinting out, bounding down the steps of the porch.

Volt tackles him in a hug much unbecoming of a Viscount, and Eddie knows it's his unnatural strength that keeps them both standing. It had never really stood out to him before that Volt was taller than him, but now he thanks that strength for ensuring his extra height hadn't toppled them over. He hesitates, shocked, and then wraps his arms around Volt's lower back. It feels like live electricity where they touch, and it's grounding in the best way.

"You're alright," Volt says, his voice dripping with relief. "You came back."

Eddie feels himself tightening his hold, his head dipping to bury itself in Volt's shoulder. "I told you I would."

They're in the drawing room three months later, on a big plush loveseat, when Eddie falls asleep reading. The autumn air is starting to chill, and a fire crackles softly in the fireplace. The gramophone - that Volt had been so proud to show off - is playing some light, classical piece that Eddie's never heard but says he enjoys. There's a tea on the table for Volt, and a coffee next to it for Eddie, who's never been a big fan of tea himself. It's all so nice, a warm blanket of safety, and Eddie hardly even notices his eyes growing heavier.

Volt watches in shock as Eddie slumps over, his head falling gently on Volt's shoulder. He's concerned at first, about to shake Eddie and ask if he's alright, when he hears a soft snore. He can't stop the little smile that creeps onto his face, and he swallows around the lump quickly forming in his throat. Eddie's face is peaceful like this, shaggy hair dangling down in front of his eyes, the red strands practically glowing in the sunlight that streams through the windows. His chest rises and falls slowly, and Volt watches him for a few more moments before turning back to his poems. 

When Eddie wakes an hour later, he's bleary-eyed and yawning, and quite a bit confused. When he realizes whose shoulder he's slumped against, he sits up quickly, shaking the sleep out of his eyes, a light rosy hue flushing to his cheeks. He looks embarrassed, Volt thinks. He looks cute.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry-" Eddie stammers. "You should've woken me-"

Volt laughs, a light chuckle, and shakes his head. "You looked so peaceful, I couldn't dare. If you fell asleep that easily, I'd wager you really needed it, dear Eddie."

The "dear" slips off his tongue before he realizes he's saying it, but he doesn't shy away from it. Eddie is dear. He's a dear friend, and Volt is more than happy to have him.

It’s late October when Volt finds himself alone for breakfast. Usually, he’s joined by Eddie, and they talk and laugh over their meals. Today, however, Eddie is nowhere to be seen. He tries to play it off as nothing and decides to head to his office to get some work done. There’s almost always paperwork to look over, things he has to sign, the boring details of life as a Viscount. Sometimes Eddie will accompany him and try to assist, looking over papers for him and summarizing in his gruff, annoyed way that makes Volt chuckle. He had forgotten how utterly quiet the work was without the werewolf there beside him.

When Marilyn peeks her head in, her ginger hair brightening the room just as much as her smile, she brings him a cup of tea. He thanks her and takes a sip, but he notices she hasn’t brought a coffee for Eddie.

“Have you seen Eddie today?” He asks, unable to keep the hint of worry out of his voice.

Marilyn smiles. “I saw him this morning, actually. He said he was going out to hunt.”

Volt blinks at her. “I didn’t know he hunted,” he says.

She shrugs. “That’s just what he told me, sir.”

“Well, thank you, Marilyn.”

“Of course, sir.”

An hour passes, and Volt is still working on the same paperwork he’d started with. He’s been completely unable to focus, his mind wandering constantly to Eddie. He wonders if Eddie is hunting with human means, a crossbow - or even a gun, perhaps - but the picture doesn’t sit right in his head. He weighs the other option, that Eddie hunts in his transformed state, teeth bared and claws tearing, and a shiver runs down his spine.

It isn’t entirely unpleasant.

He needs a drink. He needs a walk. He needs some air. He stands from his desk abruptly and decides that yes, a brisk autumn walk is exactly what he needs. So he leaves his office, makes his way down the hall to the back door leading out to the garden, and freezes in his tracks when he looks out the window.

Standing on the edge of the forest and approaching the manor is Eddie, a dead deer slung over his shoulder, and his shirt nowhere to be found. Sweat drips down his chest despite the chill of the air, and he holds the body up with only one arm as though it weighs nothing. Eddie’s knuckles are bruised, his fingers are bloody. There’s blood around his mouth, as though he’d grabbed the deer with his teeth.

Volt’s mouth goes dry, his eyes widen, and his body stiffens. His mind is flooded with raunchy images before he has the chance to do anything to stop them. He feels his cheeks grow hot, and he turns on his heel, retreating to his office before Eddie can spot him through the glass. He lets out a deep, shuddering sigh as he takes his seat once again and leans his elbows on his desk, putting his head in his hands. The paperwork is incomprehensible to him. He knows it isn’t getting done anytime today.

Volt is captivating. Eddie isn’t sure exactly what makes him so, but he finds that more often than not, he can’t keep his eyes off him. Maybe it's the way the light bounces on his hair, he thinks. The way the firelight dances on his curls like Volt has been kissed by the heavens. Or the way his eyes twinkle when he laughs, head tilted back and shoulders shaking. Maybe it’s the way seeing him bundled up in front of the mantle makes Eddie feel like he’s looking at some famous painting stolen away from a museum - a masterpiece for his eyes alone.

It could be the way he smiles. The way he grabs Eddie’s arm and tugs when he wants to show him something. The way he puts a song on the gramophone and asks Eddie to dance, and laughs when Eddie clumsily steps on his feet. The way his cheeks are ruddy and his breath is heavy by the time the song is over and he’s finally done dancing.

It’s early December, and there’s a harsh chill in the air, but Eddie doesn’t feel it. Can’t, not when he’s looking at Volt and something in him burns, bright and warm. He’s been shoving it down, trying to avoid it for the better part of the past two months, but it’s getting harder to ignore. His mind fixates on lingering touches he’s sure he’s imagining, soft gazes that last just a second too long, and playful smiles on rosy lips. Volt smiles at him, and Eddie feels dizzy.

It isn’t all sunshine and quiet moments that taunt Eddie in his dreams, though he desperately wishes it were so. There’s something primal, lying under it all, waiting to pounce the second it gets a chance. He dreams of Volt’s broad hands, his sharp grin, his wide shoulders. He dreams of perfect curls tangled and messed, pink lips swollen and puffy, Volt’s smooth voice broken and moaning beneath him. He dreams of Volt's nails digging into his skin as he takes Eddie from behind, his hair falling to curtain their faces, safe from the prying eyes of the world.

The full moon comes, and Eddie, locked in the cellar in the room they've made for him, can't stop thinking of Volt. Volt, Volt, Volt. His scent, his voice, how he would taste around his tongue. The way Volt would writhe. The cries he would tear from his throat. When the sun rises and Eddie comes to, he's hard and aching, and the shame washes over him in waves.

He's greedy; he knows this. He's already taking more than he deserves just living here. Volt is a generous host and a wonderful friend, and Eddie doesn't want to ruin the one good thing he has going for him. So when Volt's hand brushes against his as he hands him a book, Eddie fights that building fire in his chest with all the strength he has.

Spring comes in March like a gentle yawn as the land awakens, and the snow melts under rays of sun the same color as Volt's shining hair. Volt spends much of his time in the garden, the early spring chill leaving his cheeks rosy, and he excitedly drags Eddie out with him when he notices the first buds.

“These will be roses,” he says, pointing at a bush just starting to green.

Eddie tries to ignore the way Volt's hand lingers against his as he pulls him to another flower bed.

“These will be petunias, beautiful things. I'll have to show you when they bloom.”

Beautiful, he says, and Eddie nods numbly. He doesn’t think they’ll compare to the man standing in front of him, practically glowing with pride and excitement. He doesn’t think anything could. He’s never seen anything as beautiful as Volt; as the way Volt looks at him. 

A shadow crosses Volt’s face, and the sun fades as a storm cloud rumbles overhead. That's all the warning they get before the sky opens up and it begins to pour. Eddie and Volt race back inside, laughing all the while, and when they finally reach the safety of the parlor, they are well and thoroughly drenched.

Volt's eyes twinkle with mirth as he rings out his hair with his hands, squeezing the water out, and Eddie watches intently. Then, all at once, he becomes acutely aware of the water dripping from his head and clothes. He bristles, and Volt's eyes widen.

“Eddie, wait, I can get towels, you don't have to-”

It's too late. Instinct has won. Eddie shakes, his whole body flailing, his hair flying. Water sprays everywhere, over the floor, over the furniture - over Volt.

Volt sputters, bringing his hands up and dragging them down his face to slide the water off.

“Eddie,” he groans, but there's no heat to it. His eyes wrinkle, his mouth curls into a smile, and he bursts into laughter.

Eddie grins sheepishly, his cheeks growing hot. “Sorry,” he says. “It's… instinct.”

Volt's laughter subsides, and his eyes find Eddie's, soft and full of joy. They share a moment like that, quiet, catching their breath. Eddie can't help but admire him. The way his face lights up when he smiles, the way getting drenched by the rain makes him laugh, rather than upset.

“Let's get dried off,” Volt says. “Properly.”

Marilyn meets them with towels to dry themselves off, and she shakes her head disapprovingly at Eddie when she sees the state of the wet room. Volt pats the rain off of his body, and Eddie burns to strip him out of those wet clothes before he catches a cold. Volt goes to his room to change, and Eddie goes to his, and when they’re both in warm, dry clothes, Marilyn starts a fire in the drawing room.

“Marilyn, take a rest, dear,” Volt says, gesturing to a chair. “We’ve certainly put you through your rounds today.”

She smiles sweetly, but shakes her head. “I appreciate it, sir, but…” She blushes. “The kitchen is making bread.”

Volt’s lips curl up in a mischievous smile. “Aah,” he teases. “I see. Well, you certainly can’t miss that.”

She hurries out of the room, and Eddie turns to Volt.

“What was that about?” Eddie asks.

“There’s a baker in town, and his daughter recently came into our employment as one of the kitchen helpers. Marilyn is… quite taken with her,” Volt says. “It’s very sweet. I’ve always been a bit of a romantic, myself.”

“His daughter,” Eddie echoes.

“Yes. Marilyn prefers… her fellow women,” Volt eyes him for a moment. “That isn’t… an issue, is it?”

Eddie’s eyes fly open, and he shakes his head. “Not at all! No, that’s not… No. I just didn’t know that about her, that’s all. That was never an issue in the pack, but I know some humans can be pretty against it. She’s brave, being honest.”

“Ah,” Volt smiles as the momentary tension leaves him. “Yes, I try to make my estate a safe environment for all manner of folks. Marilyn and I have more in common than one might think.”

The way Volt’s gaze softens when he talks about love makes something thrum in Eddie’s chest. It’s something dark, something animalistic, something that begs him to make a move and make Volt his. He shoves it down, tries not to think about the way he desperately wants to hold Volt, wants to tell him that he’s “quite taken” with him. He spends the rest of the afternoon like that, eyes glazed over a book he’s making no progress reading, while his mind wanders to the things he would do if only Volt felt the same.

That night, Eddie stares outside with a frown as the rain continues to pour. The temperature has dropped drastically, and frost has started to accumulate on the windows. Eddie paces, restless. They’ve had their dinner for the night, but the question is tomorrow’s meal, and though the staff have assured him they have plenty of meat in the stores, Eddie can’t quell the itch in his mind. He needs to hunt, he needs to provide. He needs to make himself useful and prove he’s not just taking up space in the manor.

“I need to go out,” Eddie says finally, a pent-up growl creeping into the edges of his voice.

Volt’s head snaps up from his book. “What? In this weather? Whatever for?”

“Food,” Eddie looks at him like it’s obvious.

“Food?” Volt looks incredulous. “Eddie, there’s plenty of food in the stores. There’s no need for you to go get yourself soaked to the bone.”

“It’s not fresh,” Eddie tries to argue, though he knows the rational part of his brain agrees with Volt. It’s the wolf in him that needs to hunt. Needs to be needed.

“Eddie, it’s still cold out there. With the rain, you’ll get sick."

“Werewolves don’t get sick that easily-”

“I don’t care! It’s dark, it’s wet, you’ll have trouble navigating,” Volt’s face looks pained. “I don’t want you getting lost, or hurt, or worse.”

Eddie reaches for the handle of the door, deciding he’s done with this conversation, and his breath hitches when Volt’s hand grabs his. It feels like lightning strikes where Volt’s skin meets his, and Eddie begs the ringing in his ears to stop.

“Just…” Eddie doesn’t meet Volt’s eyes. “Just let me do this for you.”

Volt’s fingers lace themselves into Eddie’s, and he freezes. “You don’t need to,” Volt whispers. “I just want you to stay.”

Eddie’s head spins. The smell of Volt drowns him as he steps closer, his other hand coming up to cradle Eddie’s to his chest. It’s the paper of his books, the tea he drinks, the dirt and flora of his garden. It’s home, and Eddie aches to admit it.

“Volt,” he pleads, his resolve slipping. He can feel Volt’s heartbeat through his chest, and the animal in him is screaming. It wants him to take, wants to taste Volt’s heart in his mouth, wants him to claim.

Volt is so close to him now, his voice shaking. “I don’t need you to do anything for me, Eddie. I just need you.”

This can’t be real. It can’t be. It has to be a dream, or a hallucination, or something. But it can’t be real. His eyes are locked on Volt’s, light and blue and gorgeous. Better than any sky, more brilliant than any flower his garden could possibly grow. 

“I love you, Eddie,” Volt says, barely above a breath.

Eddie can’t do it; he can’t stop himself. He blinks, and his lips are crashing into Volt’s with a fervor he’s been bottling up for months. Volt’s hands release his, coming up to loop around his neck and hold. Eddie’s hands find Volt’s waist, pulling them flush. They stay like that for a minute, and then he pulls his lips away, panting against Volt.

Volt looks at him like he hangs the stars in the sky. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes wide, and pupils blown.

“You…” Volt whispers.

“I love you too, Volt,” Eddie says, holding back a growl at the look on Volt’s face. “I’ll stay. I’ll stay for you. I’m yours, Volt.”

The Viscount inhales sharply, his eyes sparkling. “And I yours, Eddie,” he breathes.

Volt kisses him then, hungry and charged, his hands tangling up into Eddie’s hair. Eddie feels fire spread to every inch of his body, his hands tightening on Volt’s lower back as his mind chants happily. Mine, mine, mine. He stumbles backwards, letting himself fall onto the sofa, and Volt falls onto him, his legs straddling Eddie’s hips. Volt’s lips trail, kissing down his cheek, his jaw, his neck. Eddie groans as Volt pants and licks at his skin. Volt’s name slips off his tongue as he bites into Eddie’s neck, sucking a bruise into the skin.

“I want everyone to see,” Volt says, his teeth brushing Eddie’s jaw. “Want everyone to know you’re mine, at last.”

A broken moan escapes Eddie at the thought. He’d been wanting to make Volt his for months, the instinct in him yearning to take and to claim. But this… he can’t say this doesn’t feel just as wonderful. Volt’s teeth find another soft spot and bite down, and Eddie’s hips jerk. The chanting in his head changes its tune. His, his, his.

Volt pulls himself off Eddie with considerable effort and extinguishes the flames in the fireplace. He leads Eddie to his room, and Eddie follows like an eager dog, a grin plastered to his face. They tumble into Volt’s bed, limbs tangling and buttons coming undone, and Eddie lets Volt take the lead when their lips collide again. It’s so much better than he’d ever dreamed.

He wakes with Volt’s chest pressed to his back, arms snug around his middle. Sunlight streams through the crack in the curtains, and Eddie carefully rolls over to watch it fall on Volt’s face. He looks like an angel, glowing in the early morning light, the dew on the window casting little rainbows into the room. There’s a red bite mark on his shoulder, just one, from where Volt had leaned forward the night before when he’d noticed the way Eddie had been eyeing him. He bends forward and presses a gentle kiss to the bite, instinct telling him to lick the wound, but he holds back, not wanting Volt to wake up confused as to why on Earth Eddie is licking him.

Volt stirs, gently, and mumbles softly as he wakes. His eyes open, and Eddie is met with that beautiful blue that used to haunt his dreams. Now he lies in Volt’s bed, bringing a hand up to run it through Volt’s messy curls. Volt hums.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice husky and low. It makes a fist tighten around Eddie’s heart.

“‘Morning,” Eddie replies with a smile. “I ever tell you how gorgeous you are?”

Volt blushes. “So are you,” his smile turns into a smirk. “Especially with all those pretty marks on your neck.”

A laugh startles out of Eddie, and he scoots closer to press a kiss to Volt’s lips. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Volt grins. “Like a jewel necklace.”

Eddie’s fingers twirl through Volt’s hair as he hums happily. “Guess now everyone will know the great Lord Circia isn’t looking for any suitors.”

Volt chuckles. “Only you, darling. The spark of life I was so sorely missing.”

A week later, the roses are blooming. Volt and Eddie walk through the garden, Eddie’s arm crooked and Volt hanging off of it, like proper lovers courting. They chat about anything and everything, buzzing with adoration. Volt leads them under a trellis of roses, beautiful in full bloom, and looks down at Eddie with all the love in his heart. The spring breeze flits through Volt’s hair and makes his curls float like dandelion fuzz. Eddie puts a calloused hand on Volt’s soft cheek and pulls him down, their lips meeting in a kiss sweeter than nectar. There’s nowhere in the world Eddie would rather be than here, in this moment together, for the rest of time. Just them. Volt and Eddie. Eddie and Volt.

They get a year like that. Doing work in the office together, reading together, laughing together, spending almost every waking moment in each other’s company. They wake up together, eat breakfast together, fall asleep in the arms of the man they love. They take walks in the garden to steal kisses under the trellis, they cuddle up to a fire with books from the library, Eddie brings in food to keep the whole manor fed, and Volt greets him with smiles and kisses and light dancing on his light blonde curls. One heavenly year.

Then the coughing starts.

That's all it is, at first. A cough. Then comes the fevers. The chills. Volt is optimistic. He always is. He gets on Eddie's case constantly about making sure he is rested enough, particularly around full moons, but when the coughing starts, Volt doesn’t take his own advice. He’s fine, he insists. He can still laugh, can still read, can still walk in the garden. He’s more concerned about Eddie catching whatever nasty little bug it is, really. Eddie reassures him that while werewolves are by no means completely immune to all illnesses, the likelihood of him catching one, especially from a human rather than another werewolf, is astronomically low.

But after a year passes, Volt gets weaker. Their walks in the garden grow shorter. He spends more time in bed.

Blood starts appearing in his handkerchiefs.

He is ever the optimist through it all. His smile is just as bright as it always was, even if his tired eyes betray him. Now, Eddie stands in the hall outside their bedroom door, four years after meeting him, three years after they fell in love, and two years after the coughing started.

His head perks up as the doctor exits the room, closing the door softly behind him.

"How is he?" Eddie says, trying not to let the panic rise in his throat.

The doctor looks somber. "Not well. I really can't advise you go in to see him. Tuberculosis spreads, you know."

Eddie frowns, but nods. "Right," he says. The doctor doesn't need to know the specifics of why Eddie knows he won't catch it from Volt. A werewolf's immune system is strong, incredibly so, but he doesn't need to know that.

When the doctor leaves, Eddie enters the bedroom. Volt waits for him on the bed, face gaunt and eyes heavy. He smiles at Eddie, despite it all. Eddie sits softly on the edge of the bed, his hand finding Volt's like a magnet.

"How is it?" he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

Volt's smile, for once, falters. He takes a slow, rattling breath and squeezes Eddie's hand with what little strength he has. He doesn't meet Eddie's eyes, instead fixating on something on the other side of the room.

"I'm dying."

He says it simply. A matter of fact. There's no emotion to his tone, no sorrow, no fear. Just plain and simple. 

I'm dying.

The words hit Eddie like a bullet. His whole body convulses, and he doubles over. He knew it was coming. Knew that had to be the diagnosis, with the somber look on the doctor's face, but still, he had been hoping, praying that it wasn't the case. He lets out a shuddering breath and tries to stop the tears welling up in his eyes.

"No," he whispers, and Volt's thumb rubs a circle into his knuckles.

"I'm sorry," Volt croaks, and Eddie thinks back to that morning four years ago, when Volt had sat by his bedside after saving his life.

"No," he says again, weakly. "There has to be... There has to be something. Something I can do," he pleads.

Volt smiles at him sadly. "If there were a way to save me, Eddie, believe me, I would let you try."

Eddie curses. "Fuck, Volt. Don't say that."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't mean it," Eddie retorts. "Because you... You don't know what you're saying, and if you did, you wouldn't mean it."

Volt's eyebrows furrow. "Eddie?"

Eddie holds back the sob that threatens to rip from his chest. "There is a way," he says, voice strained. "It's dangerous, and frowned upon, but there's a way, and I don't want to make you make that choice."

Volt reaches up with his other hand and uses it to turn Eddie's face toward him. "Eddie," he says, voice still weak but deadly serious, a spark of something like hope in his eyes. "Would turning me into a werewolf save me?"

This time, Eddie does sob, because if only it were that simple.

"No," his voice trembles. "Not... Not at this point. If I had thought of it early, if we'd known in the early stages, then maybe, but... At this point, your body wouldn't even be able to survive the change."

The sparkle threatens to dim. "I see," Volt murmurs.

"But there is a way," Eddie says, hating every word. "One you would survive."

"Tell me."

"I can't. I can't..." He brings his hand up to his hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling. "I don't know what to do, Volt. This solution, it’s not… I can’t do that to you, but I don't- I can't go back to being alone. I can't lose you."

"Then tell me, Eddie. What is the other way?"

Eddie shudders. "Vampires don't die. Not from illness. Not during the turning process. But I can't ask that of you. I know what it's like to lose your humanity. You'd never be able to live the same life you have. You couldn't go in the sun, couldn't touch silver, couldn't-" Eddie's voice breaks. "Couldn't grow old."

Volt is quiet for a minute, and Eddie hangs his head and sits in the shame of what he's just suggested. It's the most selfish idea he's ever had, a curse he'd never want to inflict on anyone, let alone the love of his life. But he's scared, god is he scared. Scared of losing Volt, of going back to being alone, of having to live with the fact that there was no way to save the one person he cared about the most.

"And... you could do that?" Volt whispers.

Eddie's head snaps up to look at him. There's something he can't name in Volt's eyes. There's fear, plenty of it, but nestled in next to it is something slightly manic between curiosity and hope.

"I'd have to find someone," he says. "But I used to know a vampire. She owes me a favor."

Beverly. She was terrified when he'd found her, blood dripping from her fangs and tears streaming down her face. She had been born half vampire, and had never struggled before, but she'd had an encounter she couldn't recall clearly, and hadn't realized what the dizzying feeling she'd walked away from it with had been until it had overtaken her completely, and she'd come to in the forest knelt at the body of a dead man.

Eddie had found her on a nightly stroll to clear his head and had taken pity on her. Took her to a small inn and cleaned her up. Let her cry on his shoulder. Taught her how to catch deer and rabbits. They hadn't spoken in years, but she had been so kind. She told him she owed him and made him promise to hold her to it if the situation ever arose.

His reminiscing must be evident on his face, because when his attention comes back to the here and now, Volt is simply watching him with a patient smile. 

"And she could do it? Turn me?"

Eddie squeezes Volt's hand, grounding himself. "She could give me what I need to do it."

Volt seems to mull it over in his head. He doesn't say a word.

"Volt," Eddie says. "It wouldn't be pleasant. From what I've heard, it would hurt like hell. You'd live, the process wouldn't kill you, but it would fucking hurt. There's no way to go back. No way to be human again. You'd be stuck like that. For eternity."

"But I'd be with you," Volt asks, but it sounds more like a statement of fact than a question.

"Yes," Eddie nods quickly. "Yes, Volt, for as long as I live, I would be here with you," his eyes soften. "About 300 years. That's what I've got, how long a werewolf lives," he whispers.

Volt inhales sharply at that and doubles over, coughing into a cloth. The sound is horrible, and Eddie clutches his hand as if it will help the cough pass. When Volt recovers, his gaze returns to Eddie, and there's a fire in his eyes.

"Do it."

"You're... you're absolutely sure about this?" Eddie's voice is deadly serious.

Volt brings Eddie's hand to his chest. "I'll be honest with you. It scares me," he pauses, and inhales slowly, his lungs making a crackling noise. "But it doesn't scare me as much as dying. As leaving you."

Eddie brings his other hand up to cup Volt's cheek as tears start to well in his blue eyes, and his unwavering mask breaks as fear trembles through his body.

"I don't want to die," Volt whimpers. "I didn't get enough time with you."

"How long do you have?" Eddie's voice is soft, soothing, as he gently rubs Volt's cheekbone with his thumb.

"The doctor said a week. Two, if I'm lucky."

Eddie exhales sharply. "Then I've got to go today."

"I can have a carriage readied for you-"

"Too slow. I need to go on foot."

Volt's eyebrows crease. "Be careful," he whispers.

Eddie leans in, planting a delicate kiss to his love's temple, and whispers, "I will."

He makes quick work of packing, some bread and a change of clothes, that’s all he needs, and then makes his way to leave.

Marilyn stops Eddie at the front door.

"Mister Eddie! Are you headed out?"

He nods, shifting the bag on his shoulder.

"Even though the Viscount is...?" Her voice is gentle. She's always been kind, ever since the first day he woke in the manor and she stuck her head in the door to see that he was okay.

His face sombers. "The doctors can't fix him. I know something that can."

There's a silent understanding that passes between them, and Marilyn nods slowly. It's been long enough now, everyone in the manor knows that something isn't normal about him, even if not all of them know the specifics.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Anything to have ready for you when you return?"

Eddie mulls it over briefly, then says, "A medical syringe. That's all I'll need."

Marilyn nods and sets off down the hall.

Eddie watches her disappear and tightens his grip on the strap of his bag. He doesn't have time to waste. He just hopes Beverly hasn't moved.

His prayers are answered when he finds her in a bar the next night. The place is empty save for her, cleaning the counter behind the bar, and he's grateful for the opportunity to brush the leaves out of his hair without prying eyes. The carriage Volt offered might have been cleaner, but having to sit around and wait would've torn him up. No, it was much faster to run through the trees on all fours, sticking to the shadows. He clears his throat, and her whole face lights up when she sees him.

"Eddie!" she exclaims, gesturing for him to come in. "I haven't seen you in forever!"

He can't help but grin at her enthusiasm. "Hey, Bev," he says as he takes a seat.

"What can I get for you? What brings you all the way out here?"

Eddie sighs, and his face falls.

"I'm here to cash in that favor."

Beverly falters at the look on his face, but she recovers quickly, grabbing two glasses from below the bar and setting them on the counter between them.

"What do you need?" she asks as she turns to grab a bottle of whiskey.

Eddie chews his bottom lip. "I need to turn someone into a vampire."

Beverly, usually bubbly and bouncy, always flitting this way and that, stills. She turns to look at him, a mix of fear and concern in her eyes, and slowly brings the bottle over to the counter. She doesn't open it, just sets it next to the empty glasses, and stares Eddie down, trying to read him. She quirks a smile and chuckles, but it's forced.

"Who do you hate that much?" she asks, finally opening the whiskey and starting to pour.

Eddie watches the glass fill, and his stomach twists in knots. "The opposite, actually," he says quietly. "I love him. He's sick."

Beverly moves to fill her own glass next. She tops it up higher than his, and he realizes her hands are shaking.

"And you've tried, y'know, doctors?"

"All the best."

She hums, her lips drawing into a tight line. "It's not a gift," she says, her voice wavering just a bit. "It's a curse. No amount of superhuman abilities will change that. Can't outweigh the price you have to pay." She knows better than anyone.

"I know," Eddie slumps, feeling defeat in the marrow of his bones, "but it's the only way."

"Does he know? That you're here?" She's quiet, the last part going unsaid between them. What you're here for?

"He does. We talked about it."

"And he agreed?" She looks baffled.

Eddie nods and finally takes a swig of his whiskey. It burns on the way down, and it's not the fancy stuff Volt bought for them, but it's grounding. He looks at his reflection in the drink, eyes tired and desperate. He looks back up at Beverly.

"Please. You said you owed me a favor. This is all I need. Just enough venom, or whatever it is, to turn him."

Beverly sighs heavily. "If you're sure."

He doesn't sleep that night. He can't. He's got what he needs to save Volt, and his sleep doesn't matter so long as he holds the key to fixing this. He uses the cover of night to go faster than he had in the day, darting through the trees, the thought of Volt pushing him through his exhaustion. He can't take his time. He can't rest. He can't risk, for even a moment, the possibility that he'll be too late. So he sprints, claws scraping at the dirt, his bag clenched in his jaw, heading for home.

It's sunrise when he reaches the manor, and he scales the gate in a leap before skidding to a stop at the porch. Marilyn is at the door, and her eyes widen in fear for just a moment before she recognizes the bag in his mouth. He leans down to drop the bag in her hands.

"There's a vial in there. But so are my clothes, so I'll need a moment." She nods, her face flushing red, and fishes the vial out of the bag before setting it down on the porch and heading inside.

He changes quickly, the rushed transformation aches and burns, but he can't take his time. He has to get to Volt. He slips his clothes back on and rushes down the hall to Volt's bedroom, his heart racing and his head spinning. He's barely been gone two days, but even that is too much when Volt's health is declining so quickly. He wrenches the bedroom door open, and a desperate whine of relief leaves him as he sees Volt, sitting propped up on a pillow, smiling at him. Marilyn is there too. She's opened the curtains so he can see the sunrise.

Volt's eyes follow Eddie's to the window, and he smiles. "It is beautiful, isn't it?" he says wistfully. "A shame. I'll miss them."

Marilyn quirks an eyebrow, and Eddie nods at her. "Sorry. You'll have to close that back up."

The pieces click in place, and a look of gentle concern falls on her face. She says nothing, though, just closes the curtains back up and returns to Eddie's side.

"Do you need my assistance with anything else?" she asks, her voice shaking just a bit.

"I think we'll be fine," Eddie says, trying to be reassuring. "We just... need space."

She nods once to him, once to Volt, and then leaves the room, the door shutting quietly behind her.

"I'm ready," Volt murmurs.

There's a chair pulled up next to the bedside, and the syringe he asked for is lying on the nightstand. The vial, containing a sickly brown liquid, lies on a small towel next to it. Eddie takes a seat on the chair and picks up the vial.

"So that's it then?" Volt asks, eying it. He makes a face. "It looks... disgusting, frankly."

Eddie laughs softly. "Yeah. It does."

"And it's..." Volt swallows, looking now at the syringe. "It's got to go inside me."

Eddie nods. "In your arm."

Volt lays his arm out next to him, and Eddie notices the tremor in it. "At least I don't have to drink the vile thing," Volt says with that winning grin of his. Even on death's door, he's joking. It's unclear who he's trying to reassure: Eddie, or himself.

Eddie carefully sucks the contents into the syringe, tapping the side once it's full, the way he's seen doctors do, even though he's not actually sure what that does. He hears Volt inhale a shaky breath. Eddie reaches out with the hand not holding the syringe and gently uses it to flip Volt's arm palm-up. Then he laces their fingers together.

"You're absolutely sure about this?" Eddie asks again, worry laced in his voice.

"I'm sure," Volt says with a nod.

"Just..." Eddie sighs. "Just tell me you're doing this for yourself, okay? I don't want you to do this just for my sake."

Volt looks sad. "Can't I be doing this for us?"

Eddie chuckles nervously and leans forward to press a kiss to Volt's cracked lips. "I guess that works."

He rests his forehead against Volt's, and the two of them sit there for a moment, unmoving and silent, breathing in each other's air. Eddie thanks his werewolf body for being strong enough against illness to grant him this closeness. Then, with all the strength he can muster, Eddie pulls his head away and brings the syringe up to Volt's arm, to the crook of his elbow. There's a vein there, easy to see through Volt's pale skin.

"It's going to hurt," he whispers, trying desperately to keep his composure. "But I'm here. I'll be here the whole time. I won't leave you. Squeeze my hand as hard as you need." He glances over at the nightstand again and suddenly realizes what the towel is for. Marilyn really thought of everything. He hands it to Volt. "Bite down on this."

Volt nods and takes the towel from Eddie, bringing it up to his mouth and biting down. There's not much force to it - he's so weak, but Eddie can't risk him biting his own tongue off.

"Okay," Eddie inhales. "Here we go."

Eddie presses the needle into Volt's arm, and Volt winces. Eddie squeezes his hand and squeezes the plunger. Volt's eyes shut tightly, but otherwise, all seems normal.

Then it starts. Volt's hand starts to grow warmer in Eddie's, and his grip tightens. Volt groans, and his jaw clamps on the towel. His skin feels hot to the touch, feverish, and then warmer still.

And then he starts screaming. His head whips back on the pillow, his whole body shaking, the towel clenched between his teeth with a strength he didn't have a minute prior. He holds Eddie's hand like a lifeline, unkempt nails from his time in bed digging crescent shapes into his knuckles. The cloth muffles him, thankfully, but it's not enough. The screams rip out of him, and Eddie watches in horror. Volt is vaguely aware of soothing words being said, It's okay and I'm right here and I’m so sorry, but the pain coursing through his veins feels like he's being burned from the inside out, like he swallowed hot coals and the fire is working its way through every nerve in his body. He can faintly feel tears streaming down his face, but they do nothing to cool the flame. 

Eddie is crying too, he's pretty sure. His body is draped over Volt's now, holding him tightly as his body convulses, and it's the only thing grounding him through it all. He isn't sure how long he screams, only becomes distantly aware of the way his vocal chords give out, of the way the screams fade into sobs as the agony crawls through him. He's sure he's dying. Sure there must have been a mistake in the process, that something has gone wrong. He's just grateful he gets to hold Eddie in his last moments.

He wakes the next day, and Eddie is slumped over on the bed, asleep, still clutching Volt's hand like a lifeline. The fire is dull now, but every inch of him still aches. He feels thirsty. He feels like he's starving. The towel that was in his mouth yesterday lies on his lap, stained with blood.

"Eddie," he croaks, throat raw, and Eddie snaps awake. Eddie's hands find Volt's cheeks, cupping his face.

"You're alive," Eddie gasps. "You... You were screaming for hours," he says, his eyes welling with tears. "And then you just... slumped back and went quiet." He presses the back of his hand to Volt's forehead. "You're still burning up. Do you feel any better? Let me see your teeth."

Volt opens his mouth weakly, and Eddie frowns.

"They look normal."

"I feel..." Every word is a struggle, a fight to rip them out of his chest and through vocal chords that haven’t recovered. "Everything... hurts. And I'm so... so very thirsty."

"I'll tell Marilyn to get some water," Eddie says, and Volt's eyes widen in involuntary fear.

Volt shakes his head rapidly. "No. No water," he whispers, and his voice trembles.

Eddie looks confused, and then solemn. "That must be part of it," he says softly. "Part of the turning. Bev said it would take a few days. Volt, you have to drink."

Volt's lip quivers, and Eddie's eyes soften.

"Will you please drink for me, baby?"

It takes all his effort, but Volt nods.

And so the day goes. Volt chokes down water that Eddie lifts to his mouth, chokes down soup that makes his stomach turn, lets Eddie dab a wet cloth to his forehead, and prays that the pain goes away soon. Eddie reads him his favorite book of poems, and lays his head on Volt's lap. He runs his hand through the black and red waves and tries not to focus on the way the deep red sings to him.

The next day, he yelps, and it wakes Eddie in a panic. Volt trembles as he holds his canine teeth, bloody, roots shriveled, in the palm of his hand. They'd simply fallen out, and it had scared him so horribly that he hadn't been able to control the sound he made. His upper jaw stings, pain radiating out in waves from the empty gums, causing a throbbing headache to travel up his sinuses, and he just wants it all to be over. Eddie offers him more water, more food, but it's getting harder to choke it down. It doesn't taste any different; the flavor is still the way he remembers, but his body doesn't want it.

He feels a little better today, all things considered, and it’s enough for Eddie to bring attention to his hair. Volt takes a strand in his fingers and holds it out to look, and Eddie is right. His once blonde curls have gone completely white, and though the difference in color isn’t drastic, it’s still enough to be noticeable. Eddie says his eyes have changed, too. They’re an icy blue now, so light they’re almost white. His pupils, however, have gone white, and Eddie says they’ve shrunk down to slits, barely noticeable against the new light blue color. 

He thinks, vaguely, that something must have changed with his hearing, too. He can hear birds outside, louder than he remembers them being. The headache from his jaw pulses, and he tries to focus on anything else. He can hear Eddie's heart beating like a siren song. He closes his eyes and lets the tune lull him to sleep.

His new teeth grow in the next day. He can feel them tearing through his gums, and though it only takes them a few hours, each second of it feels like knives being pushed out of his skin. They settle in next to the rest of his teeth, and when he opens his mouth for Eddie to examine them, Eddie tells him they look sharper, but not quite as out of place as he’d been expecting. They feel sore, and Volt pinpoints a sensation he assumes he must have felt as a baby, because every instinct screams at him that the pain would go away if he could only bite something.

His ears are more pointed. He was aware they'd been hurting the day before, but it hadn't hurt nearly as much as his mouth, and he'd written it off. Now he can hear the way Eddie's blood moves in his veins, and it makes him feel dizzy. The hunger from the previous days is stronger now, and he finally realizes the reason the soup wasn't helping. Eddie laces their fingers together, and Volt lets out an involuntary whine as he feels the rush of Eddie's pulse under his skin. The pain has mostly subsided, but he still feels weak. Tired. Hungry. So very hungry.

"Your heart stopped beating on the first day," Eddie whispers. "I thought it hadn't worked. I thought I killed you… And then it came back. It’s slower now. Quieter." He trails a hand through Volt's hair, and he swallows the saliva gathering in his mouth when Eddie's wrist glances in front of his face. 

"Eddie," he says weakly, fear racing through him. "You have to leave."

Eddie's breath catches; his face falls. He looks devastated, but as though he’d been expecting this. "I'm sorry, Volt. I never should have done this to you, I shouldn't have-"

Volt presses his hand to Eddie's mouth, and his eyes are desperate. "No, Eddie, it's not-"

His heart is pounding. Volt groans in pain as he feels his teeth move, pushing out further into his mouth, extending the sharp points past the line of his other teeth. He rips his hand off of Eddie as if he's been scalded and slaps it over his own mouth.

"Volt?" Eddie's voice is so worried, so caring, his hand comes to rest on Volt's arm. His blood races under his fingertips.

Volt whines, and he sounds like an animal.

Realization dawns on Eddie's face. "You're hungry," he breathes. He leans in closer to Volt, his neck flashing him dangerously.

"No," Volt pleads. "Eddie, no, I can't-" He pulls away from him. "I don't think I could stop myself." It's an urge, deep in his bones, the want, the need, to sink his teeth into flesh and drink. To take his fill.

Eddie stands from the bed, mercifully, and nods. "I'll get you something."

"No people," he pleads, even as his mind and body scream in protest.

"No people," Eddie agrees.

When Eddie returns, there's a rabbit in his hands, dead. "I wasn't sure how much you wanted," he says sheepishly. "I can get something bigger."

Volt can feel himself drooling. His stomach growls. "No," he whispers. "This is fine for now."

Eddie hands it to him on the bed, and Volt's eyes linger just briefly on the blood dripping on Eddie's fingers. Part of him feels embarrassed at the idea of doing this in front of Eddie, but the hunger is so strong he can't be bothered to hold back. He bites down, and the sensation alone of sinking his teeth into the soft flesh feels euphoric. He has no idea what he's doing, how this works. He's running blind on instinct, but it seems to be working just fine. He drinks, and the taste is incredible. He remembers times he'd bitten his tongue; the bitter coppery taste was never pleasant before.

But this isn't bitter. The copper is still there, but it's good now. It's sweet and rich, and Volt moans like he's eating a 5-course meal. When he can't seem to get any more out of the rabbit, he sets it on the towel still on his lap and sighs.

The bed dips as Eddie sits down on the edge of it, smiling softly at Volt. He wraps the towel around the rabbit and sets it on the nightstand to take care of later. There's still blood on his hands, as if he was too transfixed watching him feed to wipe it off. Volt swallows, and reaches for Eddie's hands. Eddie's face flushes red as Volt takes his fingers into his mouth and sucks, his tongue swiping into every crack and wrinkle, cleaning the blood off methodically. When he's done with one hand, he moves to the next, moaning softly as his tongue swipes the soft pads of Eddie's fingertips. Finally pleased with his work, Volt pulls his head away, his eyes half lidded, panting.

The flush has spread, and Eddie is red all the way down to his chest. There's a hunger of his own in his eyes as he stares at Volt, stunned.

Volt’s teeth retract back, sitting once again in line with his other teeth. The sensation is new, a slight uncomfortable, but not painful this time. He blinks as his senses return to him, and with them, a wave of self-consciousness. His eyes widen, and he feels his cheeks grow hot. "Oh my god," he whispers. "I- I don't know what came over me, Eddie, I-"

Eddie grins, and Volt covers his face with his hands.

"Don't give me that look, Eddison."

Eddie laughs, and it's the most relieved, happy laugh Volt's heard from him since the cough started. "There you are," Eddie breathes, leaning forward to press a kiss to Volt's jaw. "God, I missed you."

Volt laughs, and his hands move to Eddie's vest. He pulls his lover into a kiss, the first real, deep kiss since the cough started, and it feels like heaven. His tongue slips past Eddie's lips, and he gasps.

"You caught it in your mouth," he breathes.

Eddie smiles against him, "I did."

Volt's lips are back on him hungrily, tongue licking at Eddie's teeth, panting. Rough hands grab Volt's ass, and Volt whines as Eddie pulls him up onto his lap. Eddie's hands slip up the back of Volt's shirt, calloused fingers grabbing on, as if he could disappear at any moment. He grinds his hips down into Eddie's and is met with a low growl. Eddie pulls Volt's shirt off of him, leaning his head down to pepper his chest with kisses.

"I've missed this," Volt sighs with a smile, leaning his head back as Eddie's hand takes hold in white curls. "I've missed you."

Eddie's mouth travels up, sucking marks into Volt's neck slowly, taking his time. "Well, here I am, baby," he mutters lowly. "You've got me for the rest of my fuckin' life."

Volt groans, his hands finding their way into Eddie’s hair. “Eddie, darling,” He whispers, reveling in the way Eddie’s tongue lavishes the base of his neck. His hips roll, and Eddie’s mouth leaves him with a pop.

“Not tonight,” Eddie says softly. “Much as I want to. You’re still recovering.”

Volt whines in protest and frowns at Eddie. “I’m recovered enough,” he says, looking him in the eye. “I’m not made of glass, Eddison.”

At the name, Eddie’s steel gray eyes flash gold, and Volt grins sweetly.

“Pretty please?” Volt bats his lashes.

Eddie is on Volt in an instant, flipping him onto his back on the bed and mouthing at his collarbone.

Volt gasps. "I thought you said-"

"Changed my mind," Eddie grumbles, trailing his mouth down to latch onto Volt's nipple.

Volt moans at the contact and lets his eyes flutter shut. Eddie's tongue rubs circles around the nub, his lips sucking and sending jolts straight to Volt's groin.

"Don't waste your energy," Eddie's breath tickles in the best way. "Just let me take care of you, Volt."

"Please," Volt pants.

Eddie's mouth moves like a man starved, pressing kisses down Volt's stomach and over his still-clothed bulge. The warmth of his breath makes Volt twitch, and he watches as Eddie hungrily pulls his pants down.

Eddie sighs as he frees Volt's rapidly hardening dick, palming his balls with a light squeeze. "Fuck, I nearly forgot how beautiful your cock is, baby."

A broken moan escapes the Viscount as Eddie's tongue slowly slides across the head, gathering the precum like water in the desert. He works his mouth over Volt like he's a delicacy, letting his eyes close as he takes him into his mouth slowly. He moans happily, and the sound sends vibrations up Volt's spine. He feels amazing. He feels alive. He feels like Eddie is going to break him apart and build him back up from the remains.

He feels Eddie's nose finally brush his pubes as the tip of his dick hits the back of Eddie's throat, and he whines, hands gripping the bedsheets.

"Eddie," he begs. "Oh god, please, Eddie."

Eddie's hands find Volt's waist, and he rubs circles into his sides as he finally begins to bob his head.

Volt's hips jerk up. It's been so long since he's had any kind of release, any kind of pleasure. He'd been so sick he hadn't even had the energy to fantasize, but now here he is, Eddie's mouth around him, and it's incredible. It's not long before he's shaking, that familiar coil building in his core.

"Eddie," he pleads. "I'm- I can't-"

Eddie shoves himself down, and Volt almost screams as he cums, his back arching off the bed. He rides out his orgasm in Eddie’s mouth, gasping and groaning as his hips shudder. Eddie swallows every drop and pulls off with a sigh.

Volt mentally curses himself, for not lasting any longer, for not getting the chance to feel Eddie at all before losing his grip, for making himself have to wait for another chance.

But as Eddie crawls back up to kiss Volt, he realizes that he doesn't feel nearly as winded as he's pretty certain he should. When Eddie's lips meet his, Volt lifts his legs and wraps them around Eddie's waist, and he whines.

"I'm..." It takes him a second to find the words, slightly embarrassed, confused as all hell. "I'm still hard," he whispers.

Eddie grins. "I can fix that."

"Please do," Volt says, laughing lightly.

Eddie is undoing his own pants before there’s any time to think, freeing himself with a hiss. Volt squirms, trying to remember the last time they were able to do something like this, and he is overwhelmed with need.

“Eddie, I need-”

He’s silenced by a kiss, Eddie’s stubble rubbing against his chin as he lowers his hips slowly, but he isn’t silent long. Calloused hands wrap around Volt, pressing their lengths together, and Volt whimpers into Eddie’s mouth. Their lips separate, and Eddie’s mouth travels down to Volt’s neck as he begins to rut his hips. Volt sucks in a breath, his lungs clear and clean for the first time in years, and the moan that leaves him is downright sinful. He moves to press a hand over his mouth, but Eddie stills his hips as he does.

“Let me hear you,” he mouths into Volt’s neck, and it sounds more like a plea than a command. “Please. You haven’t sounded this healthy in so long.”

He sounds desperate, and Volt obeys, moving his hand to rest on Eddie’s shoulder blades instead. As Eddie begins his motions again, the pleasure shoots through Volt’s veins, and he throws his head back, closes his eyes, and feels.

Volt isn’t sure what it is. If it was the months and months of nothing, or if it’s the vampirism in his body. Whatever it is, it feels incredible. Every sensation is so much more than he remembered, lightning in his nerves. It’s intense, the feeling of their dicks sliding against each other, the fog of Eddie’s breath on his neck. He claws at Eddie’s back and marvels at the strained groans he draws from his lover’s throat, heady and low. He feels electric, pulsing with energy and heat.

He feels like he could do this forever. Like he could scream Eddie’s name to the heavens and they could do nothing to tear him away. It’s wonderful, but he wishes it were more. He knows it can’t be, not right now. He has no oils to speak of in this room, and he would never dare to have Eddie leave to fetch some, can’t risk having Eddie question if Volt really is recovered enough for this. So he takes what he can get and relishes in the feeling of Eddie’s large hand pressing their cocks together, dragging and twisting and sublime.

Volt’s mind is a puddle and his throat is hoarse when he feels that knot start to tighten, the fire building, and he knows Eddie is right there with him, his thrusts getting unsteady, out of rhythm.

“Eddie…” Volt moans, his voice cracking from the strain of use, and that seems to be the last straw for him.

Eddie’s teeth clamp down on Volt’s neck as he cums, hot ropes painting Volt’s stomach, and the feeling of his canid fangs slotting into his skin makes Volt scream as his own climax rips through him for the second time tonight. Eddie’s teeth stay there for a minute as he pants, stabilizing himself above Volt, his hips still but his hand still pumping between them in an effort to milk out the last dredges of Volt’s pleasure.

When his mouth opens and his teeth slide out of Volt’s flesh, the sensation is so euphoric, so overstimulating, that Volt’s eyes roll up and he whimpers pathetically as Eddie’s hand wrings yet another orgasm out of him.

Volt lies there, panting, his heartbeat racing faster than he’s ever felt it. He’s only vaguely aware of his other senses when Eddie practically collapses on the bed next to him, his own breathing hot and heavy. Volt turns his head weakly to look at him, eyes half lidded and face flushed. The werewolf lets him bring a delicate hand up to his face, cupping his cheek gently, and Eddie smiles as he leans into the touch.

“That…” Volt says between breaths. “That was… heavenly.”

Eddie smiles, and Volt realizes that he is crying. Eddie must notice the look of concern on Volt’s face, because he turns his head into Volt’s hand and presses a kiss to his palm.

“I’m just so happy it worked,” he says, just as out of breath as Volt. “You’re here. You’re alive. With me.”

They don’t leave that room for a week. The staff try to avoid it; to give them some space. When they finally emerge, they are happy, healthy, and so very in love. They won’t be found in the sunlit garden anymore, not without clouds in the sky and a parasol on Volt’s arm. But they will be found together, forever and always. Hand in hand, arm in arm. Volt reads his poems by the fire, and Eddie returns from the forest with fresh catches almost daily. They get rings, matching golden bands that they wear around the house, and call each other husband in the safety of their home. They will laugh together, and sleep together, and take moonlit strolls that make Volt’s white hair glow like a halo, and Viscount Volt Circia will always recall the day his life truly began as the day in spring when Eddison Watts came into his life.