Who: Dusty and Gareth When: Before this flashback, midnight Where: Their trailer
Gareth was exhausted -- beyond exhausted. He'd spent nearly an hour after Rupert had departed at the store, getting the last few things the other man had directed him to and muttering about finding another job. He didn't want to give up vampire/were hunting, but it didn't seem right to keep doing it without Dusty. After leaving the store he'd decided to kill some time wandering around Scarlet Oak, getting to know this hot-spot for supernaturals. The word brought a distaste to his mouth, but he swallowed it down. This was just how it was going to be from now on. He'd gotten to know the area a little better, taking in all the restaurants and shops, and made a mental note to keep his profession quiet. He had the feeling that hunters wouldn't be welcome here. It was dark now, and the blonde man hopped out of the truck, walking around to the back and unhinging the door. He hadn't bothered to unload the shopping cart, instead he'd simply lifted the entire thing into the back of the pickup. He'd used bungees to tie it tight so it wouldn't topple over, and was pleased to see it had worked. He jumped effortlessly onto the truck and unhooked the cart, pushing it off and then up to the trailer. Kicking the door open, the blonde pushed the cart inside, grunting.
Dusty had been back at the trailer for a short time, having had his fill of being out for the night already. He'd met one strange-ass man in the junkyard, and one was enough for the day, thank-you-very-much. The trailer was empty - interestingly enough - when he stepped in the door, which hadn't necessarily been a bad thing. Grinning ear to ear, Dusty had lugged in all the crap he'd found while rooting through the abandoned cars and boxes and boxes of untensils and appliances. It'd been basically a candy-land of free stuff, which for Dusty was reason for celebration. There weren't many things worthy of celebrating anymore...
Anyway. Dusty shed his boots at the door, his jeans in the living room and his jacket in the hallway. None of it had been picked up afterward, and it was just fine that way. Alone in the trailer meant he could listen to his music as loud as he wanted without having to worry about Gareth's opinion. He had a danged opinion about near everything, it seemed. After a while of thinking about it, Dusty managed to get the broken down boombox up and running, grinning with all his teeth as he popped in one of the CDs he'd found while rooting around. "Fuck yeah, this is what I'm talkin' about." Standing up, Dusty set about enjoying the shit out of the music that came streaming out -- Led Zeppelin's Black Dog, which he happened to know all the words to. Well... enough to get by.
Enjoying the music meant that Dusty needed to dance until he couldn't move anymore, and lucky for him he had a vampire's stamina now. It was on, Led Zeppelin.
Gareth barely got the cart in the door before the screetching, jangling mish-mash of sound that Dusty called music stopped him in his tracks. He winced visibly, his blue eyes darkening with frustration. Every. God. Damn. Time. He shoved the cart further into the trailer and banged the door shut behind him, looking around the room. His eyes landed on the bouncing and hopping body in the front of the living room. At first all he saw was flesh -- pale and well muscled legs, bony knees and strong arms... his gaze stopped unceremoniously on the (thankfully) clothed package that was bopping around. He stared. And stared. It was almost as though the junk, in all it's jiggling and bouncing glory, was moving in slow motion. Then he snapped out of it, his eyes shooting up. The bald man wore only a white wife beater, dirty whitey-tidies, and a pair of miss matched socks. It was a sight to behold. Dusty, almost naked and swinging his hips like a call-girl looking for a tip. After a pause Gareth's look of shock dissolved into one of amazed amusement and he began to laugh, hard. "Oh lord fuck. What in christ's name are y'doin?" He shouted over Led Zeppelin's music.
Pushing the cart further in to the room, Gareth stepped around it, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. "You look right purty struttin' around like that." He teased, trying not to laugh again.
Dusty stopped dancing abruptly when Gareth started in on the teasing, lips pressed together as his arms fell down at his sides. He glared, weight off to one hip as the insults continued. "You done yet?" he asked, brow raised expectantly. "I was enjoyin' myself until someone had to drag his ugly ass back home again, like he was wanted here or somethin'." Smirking, Dusty turned away, waving a hand dismissively as he danced a little more. Air-guitar-time happened immediately after the dancing was rekindled, one fang visible as he gritted his teeth, imagining he was up on stage in front of hundreds of people. Wait, maybe thousands. Did thousands of people go to concerts together? Sure as hell they did, he concluded, all of this happening fairly quickly in his head.
Gareth couldn't keep the amused look off his features, the way Dusty was pretending to play guitar, even though there wasn't a guitar solo at the moment. Gareth allowed the nonsense to continue for a few more moments, continuing to watch with interest before he stomped his way over to the stereo, lifting one foot and pressing the "Stop" button on the player. "Lookie here, we got a bunch'a junk to unload from that cart there. Appliances and such, an I'm gonna need yer help." He intoned, cocking his head at his friend. After a pause, his eyes seemed to take in the piles of junk that were filling the living room that had been spotless that morning. "... Where the hell did all this shit come from?"
Dusty nearly punched Gareth in the face for pausing his music, stalking over to him with both fists balled and ready to go. He was distracted by the mention of appliances and turned to stare at the shopping cart sitting right at the front door. Somehow he'd managed to overlook all of that. His face was clearly lined with confusion and he let out a quick, "Huh," as though it explained exactly what he was thinking. "You went out and bought all that crap?" Turning back to Gareth, he narrowed his eyes. "What I got... that's good stuff. It was free, and that's what's good about it. Your crap? That's just... you know," he waved at it, trying to come up with something witty. Finally he gave up, and shrugged, moving to root through it anyway. "What the hell, Gare... a toaster? We don't need no damn toaster."
"I need a god damn toaster because I like toast!" Gareth returned, hurt that Dusty was criticizing his choice of groceries. "I got us a toaster cuz toast is damn delicious in the mornin'" He looked at all the shit piled around the house and bent over, retrieving an alarm clock. It was one of the old models, the kind that the numbers flipped over on, like he'd had in the seventies. "It's missin' the last digit. We aint goan ever know what minute it is exactly." He complained, tossing the clock back onto the pile. "How we gonna ever set an alarm on it? What if I wanna get up at like, eight forty-five? I can't with that damn thing." He rolled his eyes a little -- meaning to insult his friend as much as he had been insulted.
"So set it for eight thirty five and you won't even know the damn difference!" Dusty returned, already shouting as well. If they were gonna raise voices, he could play that game as easy as pie. "You need to stop your bitchin' and realize we ain't exactly rich, you re... tard." He punctuated the last part of his sentence carefully, eyes open wide as he glared the other man down. "You're a damn fool buyin' all that shit, Gare. It's a total waste. What the hell we need with all these pansy-ass, fluffy and unbearably soft towels?!" Dusty reached into the shopping cart in the middle of the living room, yanking out as many towels as he could grab all at once.
Gareth's eyes widened with hurt and anger. "What--" He looked at the towels with a wounded and surprised sort of hurt. "Y--You don't like the god damn towels?!" he grabbed them from Dusty, holding them against his chest. "What the fuck are we gonna dry ourselves with after a shower?! God. Damn. Newspaper?!" He threw the towels back into the cart, his lower lip trembling a little with anger and more hurt than he wanted to show. He turned away. He'd spent nearly four hours struggling over words he couldn't read, agonizing over the math to find the cheapest items... making sure he got only the bare minimum of what they needed. "Then don't fuckin' use the shit I got. use y'own shit." He grunted, swallowing against the anger in his throat.
"No, I ain't gon--... god damn it, Gare... that's nuts. Why would I want paper cuts on my private parts?" Dusty held his hands out, palms up in question. He was being completely serious. It was a valid concern. "I already told you I'd use 'em," he continued, rolling his eyes at Gareth's attitude. "You ain't gonna cry, are you? I hate it when you do that. Come on. Chill out and just... just relax. I'm gonna put my music on again and you're gonna just chill out and fold all our towels for us." Tongue stuck between his teeth, Dusty smiled, having a good time teasing his friend. It was incredibly easy, after all.
Gareth was still wounded, despite the teasing. "You didn't say you'd use 'em. You called me a damn fool for spendin' our money on 'em." The blonde's voice was angry. He didn't cry often, but when he had in the past, it was always because of Dusty. "We aint listenin' to fuckin' Zeppelin, no matter what the hell I'm doing." He added, his mood turned a little sour. He had been proud of the purchases made, now he felt ashamed for spending money, embarrassed that his purchases had been on the decadent side. His throat was tight as he moved to grab the towels, gather them up so he could fold them.
Dusty stared hard at Gareth as the other man's mood fell further downward. Oh for crying out loud... He sighed, his shoulders falling as he realized what an ass he'd been. He stared hard for a long, quiet time... and then finally turned away to wander off to find his jeans. Oh well. Gareth could sulk if he wanted. He wasn't going to apologize, not now. He would later, when it wasn't expected and when he could spin it just right. "Fuckin' Zeppelin is the man," he grumbled, continuing to mutter as he located his pants and pulled them up his legs.
Gareth hid a small smile as he heard the distinct tones of guilt in Dusty's voice. "They aint either. That title's reserved for the Grateful Dead thank you very much." He returned, and watched with considerable relief as the other man moved to put on his pants. Damn junk hanging everywhere. "You goan yell at me some more, or we goan go through all this shit an' see what's good fer keepin' or not?" He cleared the thickness out of his throat, an ache that wasn't entirely gone yet. "Cuz there ain't no way in hell we're usin' that blender y'found. It looks like it got blood up inside it."
"Ha." Dusty came back after he'd finished zipping up his pants, pointing at the blender with one determined finger. "So what if it's got blood in it? It'll make my bloodshakes taste all the better if it's already got blood flavoring build right on into it." He pursed his lips, head tilted at the point he'd made. "So that means... we're keepin' it." He picked it up and tossed it over his shoulder, rooting around some of the other junk he'd brought home. "And here, Gare... look at this, won't ya? A top notch... uh... rooster." Dusty picked up and offered out a giant, wooden rooster, old paint chipping off of it everywhere.
"Y'plannin' on usin my blood to make shakes?" Gareth found himself disgusted at the idea, a drink salty, coppery, and cold. Like drinking tomato juice mixed with pennies. He gagged a little and sighed, glancing up. "Huh. That is some... rooster." Reaching out, he grabbed the giant wooden thing from his friend, inspecting it. "Well... yeah. That is a top... notch... rooster..." He smiled a little, his chest lightening a little. "Lets put it in the window in the bedroom, right?" He shook his head and picked up a model car. "What the hell are we gonna do with this?"
"Alright, window in the bedroom." Dusty shifted his weight, standing with his hips jutted slightly forward, hands on his hips in a gesture of confidence. "I dunno about the model car... I just... kinda liked it, I guess." He rubbed a hand over the back of his head, nails scraping over the bald spot right at the top. Shit, he missed having hair. Well, thicker hair. It was a pain in the ass being 46 for the rest of eternity. He couldn't have at least been given the chance to grow it out a bit? "Uh... so anyway... I got some other stuff too." Bending over, Dusty grabbed up a small shining object, grinning loosely as he slipped it onto the end of one finger. "It's a ring," he told the other man, waving it around in front of Gareth's face. "It's uhh... see, it's got a point at the end. It's all bad ass... kinda like those goth kids wear or whatever." He laughed and reached forward suddenly, grabbing his friend by the throat with the opposite hand. The metallic ring came up against an exposed throat, the point digging into his skin easily. "Now I don't have to bite ya if I don't wanna. Don't gotta put my mouth all over you."
Gareth was stunned when Dusty lunged forward, his heart leaping into his throat. "Uh--" He managed, the air catching just behind his lips. "Uh..." The cool metal against his neck sent shivers down his spine and he swallowed, helplessly. "Uh, hate to break it to you there man, but uh..." He exhaled shakily, his eyes dark with concern. "Y'still gonna have to slobber all over my neck..." He smiled a little then and it was cocky. "Y'expect me to just kinda... lean over a glass an' drip my blood into it-- an drink it cold?" He blinked a couple times, still uneasy. "I mean... I could but..."
Dusty stared into Gareth's face as the other man pointed out a very important flaw to his plan. "Well fuck then!" he whined, shaking his head, turned away momentarily before bringing his gaze back. "Damn it, boy... you're too smart for my own good." Dusty started to laugh, still holding onto his friend as the metal suddenly sank into his skin. Blood seeped out around the point and he inhaled, nostrils flaring a little to catch the scent. "I guess you're right then... but that don't mean I gotta give up my little tool I got here. This way I don't have to bite you or nothin'."
"Yeah man, I guess I can get behind that... the biting part blows fierce." He agreed, though there was a slightly pained look as the metal pierced his skin. "Sonofa bitch though, that hurts too-- not near as much though." He muttered, and brought a hand up, trying to cover the leaking spot. Dusty had got him a little deeper than intended it seemed, as the blood sort of spilled out, rather than a slow leak. He made a quiet noise, trying to keep his complaint at minimum. It was still better than the bite. "I gotta say, I aint gonna regret you findin' that one." Blood seeped through his fingers, dripping down one knuckle and then on to the next.
Dusty frowned at the sight of the blood, rolling his eyes at himself even as his instincts tried to take over. It was entirely obnoxious, the urges that wanted to drive him to doing something he really didn't care all that much for. "Shit," he hissed. "You uhh..." He rocked on his heels a little, looking around the room as nonchalantly as was possible. "You want to uhh... I mean since you're bleedin' and everything anyway... I could just..." He shrugged, not wanting to have to come out and say it.
Gareth looked up at his friend, gaze confused for a minute. The other man was looking at him with that dark blue gaze that he saw once in awhile these days. It always threw him off, how much that look resembled lust. He cleared his throat and then slowly removed his hand from his seeping neck. "You uh... well, yeah..." He gave the older man a disarming smile. "This time it won't hurt damn near as much." The idea pleased him. He didn't actually mind the drinking part... and perhaps with the pain eliminated... He tilted his head, exposing the bleeding neck to his friend. "Go ahead man. Knock'yself out."
Dusty swallowed hard and moved toward Gareth slowly, head tilting upward just slightly, lips parted as he zeroed in on the blood still leaking from his friend. The scent of it was too good to ignore... too good to pass up. He hadn't had enough last time he'd fed... they hadn't finished what they were doing, because somebody had to pussy out of it. Very slowly Dusty's hand moved to the back of Gareth's neck, cupping him, pulling him forward so that the wound was mere inches from his mouth. "Tell me when to stop," he whispered, leaning in the rest of the way to touch his lips to it. The blood was immediately overwhelming and Dusty couldn't imagine ever letting go now. The taste spilled into his mouth, the heat of it and the vague familiarity. It tasted the same... it tasted like Gareth. He imagined that his friend was so distinct, easy to determine, and wondered that if he tasted somebody else... if he could tell the difference. Dusty drank like a newborn nursing off of his mother's breast, suckling gently, put at peace by every hearbeat that pressed more of Gare's life flow into his mouth.
Gareth couldn't help but tense as the the other man leaned in, meeting his lips against the reddened flesh. A soft gasp escaped him and he felt his hands lifting, grasping at Dusty's arms. The close proximity was so weird... unnerving. He and Dusty only hugged when drunk, they shared a bed pretty frequently, but they always awoke on opposite ends, as far apart as possible. Close contact was not something either of them liked. "I'll tell you when." He murmured, breathless and feeling weird. Then the swooning sensation began. Dusty, gripping him tightly, one hand at the back of his neck, the other on his arm. Dusty's mouth, wet and warm and right against his neck... Dusty drinking. His eyes slipped shut and he relaxed in the other man's arms, holding on. Now that there wasn't as much pain, the blonde man was able to take note of things... the way those calloused fingers felt against the skin of his neck, for instance, and how... well... how Dusty smelled. It wasn't good, precisely, but it was... Dusty. That musk and sweat and dirt... grass and warmth... shivering minutely, Gareth clung a little harder, feeling a little faint.
Dusty was - as best he could - enjoying himself. He was enjoying the sensation, the warmth in his mouth and under his fingers. The thought occurred to him though that it was wrong, that all of this was wrong. He was doing what he'd demonized others for doing. After having enough to sate him for now, Dusty pulled back suddenly, backing away from Gareth as though the other man were diseased, painful to touch. "Alright," he said, voice thick and authorative. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, head shaking side to side. "M'done... no more right now, damn it."
Gareth's eyes were closed. In some ways, allowing Dusty to feed off him was like meditation. Suddenly he could relax completely. His own heartbeat was in his ears, even as his blood was drained, and he could focus on the small things... Dusty's scent, his touch, the sensation of losing a little feeling in his finger tips as he lost more blood. He didn't mind these things too much... but then, before he could really realize what was going on, Dusty had pushed away from him, releasing him and stumbling back, as though he'd done something wrong. He supposed that in all likiliness, they were doing something wrong... but it was better than allowing Dusty to go out and feed of innocent people, better than sending him out there into the night to do the very thing they had killed others for doing. An acidic feeling rose in Gareth's chest, heartburn, and he swallowed it back. "A'right. Makes sense to me." His skin was blanched, pale, and he brought his hand up to cover his bleeding neck. "Better figure out a way to bandage me up, otherwise I won't do you a whole lotta good soon." He teased a little, though it was weak.
"Put a goddamn bandaid on it," Dusty told him, moving away to start sorting through the shopping cart again. Anything to take his mind off of life, off of everything else going on in it. "It's what they're there for, right? We should have a whole shit load of them in the bathroom, Gare. Lord knows I don't need them no more." He cleared his throat, picking up the box with a toaster on the front of it, turning it around to look at the pictures on the sides. "I ain't lickin' you or anything to close it up. Dunno if that even works. Probably just the movies, I'll bet."
"God, I don't want your tongue anywhere near me anyway." Gareth returned easily, getting to his feet slowly. "Nah, 'sides, what Granddad always said was that vampire's blood had healin' properties. Not their licks." He snorted a quiet laugh and made his way towards the bathroom. "'Member? Grand-dad warned us that there was some sick fucks out there who liked to drink vampire's blood because it made them heal quicker, made 'em stronger. But he warned us never to do it because... yanno, who knows what the side effects were? They could probably half drag you down to death with them." He stretched one arm out a little and looked down at the pile of junk at his feet. "I think grand-dad said that if we were ever, y'anno, seriously wounded, about to die, then to pour vampire blood over the wound, but only then." He glanced back at Dusty, wanting to ask if the other man was okay, but not daring to break their unspoken guy code. "But we don't gotta test that. A band-aid will do fine." Something sticking out of the pile caught his attention and he bent over, picking up the object. "A VCR?" He turned to look at the other man, eyes blue and dark. "They don't even make tapes anymore man. It's all DVD's these days."
Dusty nodded as Gareth rambled on and on and on behind him. He talked something awful, sometimes. He turned around when the other man left to head to the bathroom, wishing again that things could be like they used to... He wanted to go get drunk at a random bar, take someone home maybe, have himself a good, normal night. Instead... Dusty looked around their trailer, a little put off by it still. It was just so out of the norm for them. He blinked, gaze rising at the sudden veiled accusation coming out of Gareth's mouth. "Hey," he defended, chest puffing out a little. He marched over and took the VCR from him, gripping it in one strong hand before carrying it toward the shitty television they'd picked up earlier. "It don't matter what they do or don't make no more. I got it for us and we're gonna use it." Dusty went about hooking it up, the cords easy enough to figure out and when he got it set up, he turned it on and hit 'play', moving to stand back and watch whatever was already in it. "Already a damn tape in it anyway, whiner." He stood back, reaching out to smack Gareth in the chest playfully. "Check this out..."
Gareth rolled his eyes at the other man, but he was smiling a little. Sometimes he could almost sense Dusty's moods, and the bald man had seemed pretty pissy for a moment there. With the playful slap, the blonde man grinned and bumped shoulders with his friend, his eyes turning to the television screen. "A'right, we got one tape, but what about when it gets old?" He grinned a little and watched as the older man hit play, his dark blue eyes bright. "With our luck it'll be one of those stupid sesame street videos or somethin." He muttered, but he had a bit of a cocky grin on his features, pleased to see Dusty pleased about something. "What are we--" His words cut off as the tape began to play, directly in the middle of a scene, volume top notch. On the screen a woman wearing high heels, and only high-heels, was bending over. She had dirty blonde hair, about the same length as Gareth's, and she was on her knees. Her legs were spread apart and she seemed to be inviting her viewing audience to take a good look at what Dusty might have referred to as her private parts. "Uh... woah..."
"Woooo-eee!" Dusty exclaimed, laughing hard as the movie started playing. If one could really call it a 'movie'. "I ain't seen one of those in days," he told Gareth, grinning ear to ear happily. "This coulda been far worse, but ain't you glad I'm out there thinking for both of us? Admit it. You love this shit. Eat it up." He shook his head at the screen, stepping up to poke at it with one finger just to be crude. No other real reason for it aside from that he could do it. "That's pretty nice, lady. Thanks for the view." He turned away as though suddenly disinterested, still chuckling to himself as he crossed the room toward the back hall that led to their bathroom. "Alright. I'm gonna go take myself a nice hot shower. You enjoy the tape out here." It was said with a clear warning in his eyes; he didn't want to be disturbed while he was in there.
Gareth flushed a little at how crude his friend was being, but he was laughing too. Well, it was a pretty lucky find. Shaking his head a little, he looked over at the older man in time to catch his cold stare. He swallowed a little, giving Dusty a nod. "Yeah, you got it. I'll be out here...." Though whether or not he'd be focusing on the porn was another thing. He was starting to feel drowsy. Taking a seat in the huge and ancient recliner they'd found alongside the road yesterday, Gareth lit a cigarette and made himself relax. He snorted to himself when he heard the bathroom door close, knowing that the shower wouldn't start actually running for another twenty minutes or so.