Michael (walkedmanypaths) wrote in worldsapart_ic, @ 2019-08-30 18:26:00 |
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Unlike his old friend Michael didn't buy into the idea of penthouses and having a place that was high above the rest of the world which certainly explained why he'd gone for a house rather than an apartment. It was nicely situated meaning he could get anywhere he wanted to get either by walking, grabbing an Uber or if he wanted to brave the LA traffic by car or whatever method he deemed fit for this century of his life.
Moving was and still remained one of the more stressful things in life and he'd had a majority of his things shipped over from France but today he was overseeing the delivery of some larger items. Things like his piano, art collection and library because whilst it would be easier to simply download them and contain them on a Kindle it defeated the purpose of what books were about especially as some of his collection went back hundreds of years.
He supposed he needed to speak to somebody about getting some sort of holding for them, to keep them safe and in good condition, so that age didn't destroy them but that could come in time. For now clad in a dark t-shirt, loose fitting sweatpants, and hair definitely not at all properly combed, he was directing the movers as to where the remnants of his belongings should be handled and placed in his home.
He had also sent his address to Billy on the offchance that at some point in the not so distant future his childe might like to visit but Michael was in a lot of ways giving Billy his space as he might be in the same city as him now but that didn't magically make the last however many years vanish overnight.
"Second floor, third door to your right," he instructed as one of the movers asked where to take a particularly large painting.
"And straight on 'til morning," A familiar voice called, seconds after the instruction was given. "You know," Billy said from where he'd leaned against the truck, watching the movers taking items out and being directed by Michael, "some people take the opportunity of moving halfway aross the world to actually get rid of some of their stuff."
He pushed off from where he'd been watching and pushed his sunglasses up onto the top of his head. He'd received the message, an address and had thought maybe turning up immediately would sent the wrong message (as in, the correct message which was that he really wanted to get back on good terms with Michael but didn't know how) and so had waited a day.
"You know as well as I do that I'm a hoarder," Michael returned with a pointed look and a slow smile. "Though I have actually downsized quite a bit I'll have you know." And by that he of course meant he'd gotten rid of some family heirlooms, painful distinct reminders of a past he wasn't proud to be a part of along with some art that really had no place in the modern age.
He glanced in the direction of the house and narrowed his eyes slightly as he could have sworn he heard a curse, seemed as though they were having some trouble with the stairs.
Michael had also had some of Billy's things shipped over, the things he'd left behind all those years ago and he thought that maybe Billy might like them back.
"Doesn't look like it from here," Billy said as he moved a little closer, leaning against the gate-post. "Looks like you bought a huge house and you're gonna fill it with all your stuff again, and end up asking someone to magic you a basement when you run outta room."
He rubbed his hand through his hair and looked past Michael to the house again. "It's nice though, very, uh, you."
Michael smirked. "That's always an option." He folded his arms across his chest and looked in the direction of the house. "Not sure if I should be complimented or insulted that the house is very me so... I'll do neither and instead invite you in for a drink. Drink?"
He pushed away and trailed in the direction of his home, hand brushing over the nearby rose bush, before he slipped the edge of his thumb into his mouth as roses did have their thorns but it was one of the reasons he liked them so much. So beautiful and yet so dangerous all at the same time.
"I could go for a drink," Billy replied quietly, the confidence from a moment ago draining away from him at the prospect of going inside. This wasn't how he was meant to feel and he knew that, but he also knew he had to get over his own shit and just handle this.
Grayson had apologised for disappearing, and though he hadn't come back - because he'd found a better place with werewolves and Billy would never begrudge him that - he had remained in contact which was pretty much all Billy could have asked for.
He pushed off from where he was leaning and ducked under a moving person before he followed Michael into the house, hands sliding into his pockets.
"Of course you'd find somewhere which has a room you could use as a parlour," he murmured, teasingly.
Michael led Billy through the house into a slightly more private room that Billy very correctly identified as a parlour, bare feet carrying him over to a nearby drinks table. "I need some creature comforts." He flipped two glasses over and filled them both with brandy before he held one out to Billy to take.
"This being one of them."
He smiled and trailed over to settle on the end of a large plush leather couch.
"Some, he says," Billy drawled as he followed, sinking into the other end of the large couch, glass of brandy in his hand, resting on the arm of the chair. He'd toed off his shoes and gently nudged them under the table so at least no one would trip over them. "Some creature comforts."
He snorted, "Remind me never to let you see my place."
Michael chuckled as he took a sip from his glass. "Well, my door is always open as you know." That offer had most definitely not been rescinded, he would always have a place in his home for his childe. Whether or not his childe wanted it or would accept it was another matter altogether.
"So, how are things since I saw you last?"
Billy shrugged. "They're good." He needed to check in on Gabe, he realised, as he'd been lax at that, just one more thing he was very poorly equipped to handle. He was definitely the personification of doing his best but not doing a very good job of it.
He scratched behind his ear and took a sip of his drink. "Nothing really to report. I don't know what Daniel told you, Michael, but I'm actually really boring."
"Did you ever hear from Grayson?" Michael asked, sipping at his drink before stretching his arms out across the back and arm of the couch. "I know he was a worry for you." He understood Billy's attachment to wolves and he himself had no issues with them as long as they had no issue with him.
Pacifist until he had to be something else.
"Yeah," Billy said, "he- he apologised for running which I can hardly blame him for, considering. He's found some werewolves to live with, who I'm sure will fold him into their pack." He gave a small smile, a little sad along the edges. "No need for someone like me anymore."
He rubbed his eyes, "There's another- a kid called Gabe. He's not handling his transition well."
Michael frowned ever so slightly before he placed his glass aside and moved closer, smoothing his hand along Billy's shoulders before firmly squeezing his right one. "I'm sure that's not the case. I mean the fact he's still reaching out to you tells me that you're more a part of his life than you like to give yourself credit for."
"How was he turned?"
"A text message to tell me that he's okay, and another one to tell me he's going back to the streets doesn't really count as reaching out, Michael." He wanted to ask if Michael would have felt that was sufficient if that was all Billy had done, a message to say 'I'm out of jail' but nothing else. It wasn't Grayson's fault, and Billy was happy for him, that he'd found other werewolves, people that would help him in all the ways Billy couldn't.
It just... didn't feel good being left behind. It made the guilt he felt at being here so much worse, too. Because, to Michael, Billy wasn't a person he'd picked up off the streets and offered a home to.
He cleared his throat, pulling himself away from the spiral of self-hatred that could be continued at home.
"Violently and without his permission," Billy answered. "His sire was killed for her indiscretion."
"Small beginnings," Michael agreed with a nod of his head. "But beginnings all the same." He was concerned and worried, not about anybody else, but about Billy. He wasn't himself, the opposite in fact. He did hope his presence here would help but it might not and he wasn't entirely sure what to do if that became the case.
Billy was his one and only childe after all.
"That would definitely explain the difficulty he's experiencing with his transition." Consent was and would always be important when it came to becoming what they were. It was why before he'd turned Billy that he'd explained and asked though he knew from Billy's words during their heated argument that he did hold that against him. "And the death of a Sire is a considerable loss to deal with along with dealing with the loss of his humanity and everything he knew."
Billy had almost forgotten how much sense Michael could make when he wanted to. He was like Daniel, in that way. Only Billy had never- Well, the less thought about that incident the better. He cleared his throat. "Is that how you're looking at this?" He asked, because he wasn't blind to the similarities. "Small steps in the right direction?"
He sighed, "He was a witch, so he lost more than just his humanity." He shook his head, "I can't imagine what that's like." Because despite what he'd said, and how he'd felt at the time, Michael had saved his life. Given him a gift and it was Billy's fault that he'd squandered it. Gabe's situation wasn't of his own making, not like Billy's was. So Billy had no right to feel the way he did.
"His Sire's, uh- Sire stepped in but it's not the same."
"Yes," Michael answered with a smile as he squeezed Billy's shoulder again and rubbed his thumb along the material of his jacket.
The knowledge of the fact that not only had Gabe lost his humanity but his magic as well definitely shone a light on the vampire's struggle. "No wonder he's struggling," Michael said with a shake of his head. "Losing your humanity and your magic in one go without a choice? It's definitely going to make the transition difficult if not impossible."
"At least the Sire's Sire stepped in, but you're right it's not the same. It's not the same connection."
Billy leaned into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment before lifting his hand to squeeze Michael's wrist. It was heartening to know Michael didn't think all was lost, that Michael was willing to forgive him for being such an arsehole.
"Not much I can do to help him," he admitted, "other than listen. Poor kid." He shook his head and turned it, lifting his shoulder to let his lips touch Michael's fingers just briefly. "You think you're gonna like it here?"
Michael tried not to grasp onto the fact Billy was leaning into his touch too desperately because it was definitely baby steps towards rebuilding and possibly creating a new bond between himself and childe given that so much time had passed. "And sometimes listening is more important than you think."
His lips did tug into a soft smile when he felt the press of Billy's lips against his fingers. "I think so? I did visit a club called Reverence which was a lot of fun and unique given that it's owned by a vampire but has werewolf security."
Billy chuckled, "Ah. I'm hardly surprised you found your way there. Shit, that place is run by Rose's Childe." He glanced up, "Lucien, I think his name is. Sharp as a tack, that one. Real head for business. Reverence opened a club in New York year before last, too."
Michael chuckled and sipped at his drink. "Well, you wouldn't want me to get bored, now would you?" Rose's Childe? Now it all made sense. He'd heard about Lucien but never met him, perhaps it was time to change that?
"With a Sire like Rose it would be impossible for him to be anything but."
"She terrifies me," Billy admitted with a laugh, reaching out and taking a sip of his own drink. "Still. I ran into her about ten years ago, when she was settling in to check on Lucien. She's a formidable woman."
"Oh, she is, she really is," Michael agreed. "Definitely not somebody you want to cross or be on the wrong side of but if she likes you then you've got an ally for life." He gave Billy's shoulder a final squeeze before releasing his grip.
Billy swayed a little towards Michael when he let go but didn't say anything. He just tucked his legs up, the balls of his feet on the edge of the table as he slouched down into the couch a little further. He rested the glass atop his knee.
"Don't think she liked me all that much."
Michael tipped his head into his hand and sunk his fingers into his dark hair as he watched Billy as he got more comfortable. Relief flooded through him to see the other vampire unfurling and getting himself settled, meant he was less likely to bolt.
"What makes you say that?"
"Just a feeling," Billy replied, leaning his head back into the cushion. "I'm gonna wait until you're out and steal this couch," he added with a little lift of his lips in a cheeky grin.
Michael finished off his drink and chuckled, glass being set aside. "I think I would pay to see that." Idly his fingers lifted from where his hand was resting to lightly push into the short hairs across the back of Billy's neck and smooth his thumb over them.
"I might install CCTV to catch you in the act."
Billy hummed in response to the touch, leaned into it again like a cat. "Well, now you've said that," he retorted, "I'll have to do it before that's installed. I could probably con one of the movers into helping me out..."
"Possibly," Michael surmised as he tipped his head in the direction of said movers, offering one of the younger ones a smile that caused him to flush and hurry in the opposite direction. A chuckle escaped the vampire as he returned his attention to Billy. "But your plan relies very heavily on me revealing when I intend on getting the CCTV installed."
He ran his nails in small circles as they moved through those strands of hair.
"It's not already installed," Billy said with a snort, which gave way to a very quiet satisfied sound that escaped him on an outward breath with the reassuring touches from Michael. They were absent enough, completely idle and Billy almost wondered if Michael knew what he was doing. "Today'd be a good day to steal your couch."
Michael tongued at his right canine and grinned slowly. "Slight problem with your nefarious plan, I'm home all day today." He tipped his head to regard Billy, reassured and heartened to know that their bond wasn't as far past repair as he'd once thought.
Emboldened by the fact Billy hadn't pulled away at this touch his fingers strayed further up to thread into longer strands of the other vampire's hair.
Billy leaned further into the touch, tipping his head back into it and relaxing, shoulders dropping. He opened his eyes and looked up at Michael and ignored that breathless sensation he remembered feeling all the time whenever Michael looked at him.
"Unless someone spontaneously invites you out to lunch or something," he pointed out. "I could definitely ask Daniel to distract you."
"Mmm, there is that," he agreed as his thumb absently ran over the shell of Billy's ear. "But given that I know it would be a distraction technique the real question becomes, would I fall for it?" His lips eased into a slow disarming smile that caused his eyes to glint.
He'd missed this, missed Billy, he'd never really felt complete after having turned him.
"Totally," Billy said confidently, his smile faltering a little at the touch to his ear, the brush of skin against skin. He swallowed, especially after that disarming smile was shot at him and though he was likely imagining it - and fuck, he imagined a lot - the air felt heavier, if only for a moment. "Mmhm, definitely. One hundred per cent."
Michael tsk'ed softly under his breath. "Absolutely no credit for me being smart enough to know when a distraction is just a ruse to get me out of the house so you can steal my couch." He repeated the movement with his thumb and idly trailed his fingers up to lightly drag the blunt ends of well manicured nails over Billy's scalp.
Billy's breath audibly hitched at that, the tease dying on his lips as he was thoroughly distracted from what he was saying and his not-so-genius master plan. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing," he added, wetting his lower lip and meeting Michael's eyes. "That's playing dirty and you know it."
"Hmm?" Michael hummed softly, innocently, blue eyes wide and face the picture of it. "I have no idea what you're referring to, Billy." He shifted how he was sat so he was now fully facing Billy, long legs curled up and bare feet resting on the leather of the couch.
Billy's hand dropped from his knee, hesitating for only a second before he let it curl loosely around Michael's ankle, thumb underneath the fabric of his sweat pants, nail drawing a small circle against the skin in time with the brush of fingers over his scalp. "Really," he said, absolutely calling bullshit without saying it.
Michael caught his lower lip as his mouth eased into a smile when he felt Billy's hand wrap his ankle and his thumb drawing a circle in time with his own movements in Billy's hair. "I'm afraid I still don't know what you're implying." Dumb and innocent, Michael could play both so very well.
Of course the look in his eyes definitely gave him away to those that knew him well.
He lightly threaded Billy's hair through his fingers, noting for the first time since he'd reunited with him that it was longer than he remembered.
"You know as well as I do I'm not gonna fall for that," Billy retorted, teeth catching the inside of his lower lip even as he felt his chest tighten, that heaviness was back in the air again and he had to be imagining it, right? Fuck, it had been a long time since he'd felt so complete, Michael's absence was like a poorly healed wound. Having him back felt better than he could have imagined.
His eyes fluttered a little and he just lifted his eyebrows. "Don't think you can distract me," he said, though it had already worked. His own touch shifted, fingers drawing shapes along Michael's calf and over his ankle.
The air was heavy. Billy wasn't imagining it. It had always been heavy when they were this close but Michael had in the past been very careful not to let that get the better of him, wanting to respect his Childe and his desire to be his own person without drawing on the bond that joined them from the moment he tasted Billy's blood and Billy had his. It was easy, to let the line blur, to confuse that bond with something else and he hadn't wanted that for Billy.
"Distract you from your very cunning plan?" Michael asked, skin tingling as Billy's fingers drew shapes over it, beneath the material of his sweatpants. "God forbid, why would I want to do that?"
"Oh, yeah, that's what we were talking about," Billy gave Michael a lazy grin and dragged his tongue over his lower lip, then touching it to his right canine, finding they had sharpened slightly. "It'd be good for you, and all those hoarding tendencies," he teased, finishing his scotch and balancing the glass on the arm of the chair, "to lose something. Everything else you say you've downsized is in storage, right? In France?"
Boldened by the conversation, by the fact that he wasn't being pushed away, by the fact that Michael was there, Billy shifted slightly on the couch, tucking one leg up between Michael's as the other stayed on the floor. It meant he could lean into that hand, but that his were both free, then, to touch. If he wanted. If Michael wanted. The fingers of his other hand rested on the cushion, outstretched in Michael's direction, fingers lifting upwards to gently brush the inside of Michael's upper arm.
"Give me some credit," Michael returned idly as his gaze drifted to where Billy's teeth had sharpened, his keen eyesight granted him the ability to see those rather small finite details. "I sold some of it, donated others and well, the pieces that I didn't?"
His shoulders lifted into a 'what can you do?' type shrug before he let Billy touch, not pulling away, definitely inviting. The hand in Billy's hair dropped to squeeze the back of his neck before his fingertips trailed around to lightly dip into and map the hollow of Billy's neck.
"Didn't or couldn't part with?" Billy teased, "Besides, I know how donations work. Technically it's still yours, it's just housed somewhere else."
He swallowed, lifting his chin slightly as the touch moved, letting Michael's fingers drift over a vulnerable part of his throat even as his own touch trailed up the inside of Michael's arm, then rested on the outside of his thigh, squeezing lightly. His other hand, still just inside the leg of his sweatpants, went still, cool fingers against cool skin.
Michael snorted softly. "Some had more sentimental value than others." Memories were precious things especially when you lived forever provided you didn't piss the wrong person off.
He let his gaze drift again, this time to the point where his fingers touched Billy's throat, reassured and comforted by the fact that Billy still trusted him enough to let him get close to that rather vulnerable part of his neck. His leg responded to Billy's squeeze by shifting until he was able to nestle the top of his foot beneath Billy, thumb spreading to now follow the curve of Billy's collarbone.
"Mm," Billy agreed, "I guess I'm lucky not to be that attached to things." And generally he wasn't. He had a few; his sunlight charm, of course, the dog tags that Michael had carefully recovered and embedded a small stone in for him that he'd never take off. A few gifts from Michael that were carefully tucked away in his home, things that he hadn't lost when he was arrested and locked up.
He shifted again, drawing in a breath when Michael's foot moved. He squeezed again, stroking his fingers along Michael's thigh, even as his other hand started moving again in long, slow strokes up the other's calf. He dropped his head back a little more, giving Michael the space to touch if he wanted, tacit permission being provided for him to wander wherever he desired.
"Very," Michael drawled. "I have no such luck." He had a remarkably good memory but sometimes it helped to have something that was tangible and real that he could hold in his hands and recollect the events and people associated with that item. "And speaking of things I have several that belong to you."
He pulled in a breath as Billy's hands roamed his thigh and calf, toes flexing in response to those long slow strokes along his skin and muscles. Michael did in fact wander, letting his thumb free a button on Billy's shirt, slipping it beneath the material a moment later as he just rubbed it over the other vampire's skin.
Billy's eyebrow lifted, swallowing visibly at the brush of thumbs against his skin. "Is that better, though?" he asked, "To have nothing that reminds you of the things and people you care about?" He wasn't sure, but he did look surprised to know that Michael still had some of his stuff. He supposed his spiral had been very quick, it was one of the reasons he sympathised so much with many of the kids on the streets, and so many werewolves. Billy knew what it was like to crave something so uncontrollably that you did unspeakable things. He knew what it felt like to lose control of yourself and be dangerous when that's contrary to your normal nature.
"You do?" he asked, "I'm guessing they'll be in here somewhere too?"
His hands just kept up their idle movements. He forgot what it felt like to be touched in any way that wasn't a clap on the back from a work colleague or the warm, comforting arm over the shoulder that Daniel offered so regularly. He'd forgotten how tactile Michael was. How easy it was to repay and return that absent affection.
“Not really no,” Michael said with a shake of his head. “I would rather have those things. To help me remember the things and people I care or cared about.”
He smiled slightly. “Yeah, I do. Quite a few things actually. I’ll let you take a look and decide what you want to keep or get rid of.” Billy wasn’t wrong. Michael was exceptionally tactile, he’d always been that way. Thankfully Billy didn’t seem to mind.
He inhaled and exhaled in the same breath as he gently brushed his thumb along Billy’s neck.
Billy hummed a little and leaned forward, resting his forehead against Michael's knee and closing his eyes. "I'll have a look," he promised, though since he'd been without whatever it was for a while he probably wouldn't need to keep it. Or, he supposed, it could stay here. He didn't get the impression Michael was desperate to throw it all out.
He wasn’t desperate for the record. If he had then it would have been long gone or left back in France.
As Billy leaned forward and rested his forehead against his new he pushed his fingers up and into the other vampire’s hair all over again.
“No rush.”
"'kay," Billy mumbled, taking in a slow breath. He wanted to say he was glad that Michael was here, that he was sorry (again, for the hundredth time), that he'd been doing better and he'd keep doing better because he knew he had so much to make up for but he said none of that. He just breathed out and leaned into the gentle touch, letting Michael's fingers push through his hair and reacquaint himself with the feeling of his sire being close again, the rekindling of that bond.