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It starts when Varka visits Flins at the lighthouse, just like any other day. He appears through the gloom and fog smiling and waving at Flins, who looks out the window of the lighthouse to see why the ghosts are disturbed and waves in return. Standard, except for the way he walks a little more gingerly to compensate for the swath of bloody bandages stretched across his torso. Flins is happy to see him, but less than thrilled with this development.
“Did you hike all the way over here bleeding out?” Flins demands, pulling him inside and taking his coat while Varka tries to handwave his questions. An unamused glare puts an end to that, and Varka obediently follows him into his living area.
“Sit, please.” Flins whisks some stray files and pillows off his couch and ushers Varka over, hovering uselessly as the man lowers himself carefully, a grimace flitting across his face. Flins kneels and inspects the bandages across his stomach, wondering if they should be changed after Varka’s trek here. Humans tend to push themselves to the brink of their physical limits until there is no safe return, and he is very aware that Varka is exactly the type to put his own needs second.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle, I promise. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Varka flashes him a charming grin that is undermined by the hard set to his brow, the sweat curling the baby hairs at his hairline. “In all honesty, I didn’t figure it would unsettle you. The knights at the camp were practically in tears about it, and I had to get away. I just feel bad seeing their guilty faces. Wasn’t their doing.”
“So you escaped? Way to ease their concerns.”
“It’ll help their focus. I told Anselm where I was.”
Flins clicks his tongue. “This is why your men are exhausted with you all the time.”
“Aw, you wound me.”
“Not funny right this moment.”
“Oh, hm, right.”
“You should’ve stayed where the medics could watch you,” Flins sighs.
“I’ve been up all day. This little scratch won’t stop me. I just really wanted to see you.”
Flins gives him a flat look. “Nice try, that won’t work on me. I’ll get you some herbal tea and whatever food still looks good in storage. You’re going to rest while you’re here, alright?”
“You don’t need to…” His voice fades away as Flins steps out of the room.
Varka is standing and has undone the bloody bandages when Flins returns with a food tray, and he's poking and kneading at the two cuts across his abdomen.
Flins freezes at the sight, eyes flitting to the damaged skin. A quick inspection reveals no poisonous discoloration or spreading, just normal reddened irritation. To his relief, things appear much less severe than he imagined, just two sharp but shallow cuts.
“From the Wild Hunt?” Flins asks, setting down the tray on the coffee table and opening his medical cabinet on the wall. “Sit down. And stop touching them.”
Varka pulls his hands away. “Nah, just Fatui soldiers up North. Didn’t even need stitches.”
“Mhmm.” Flins hands him a fresh roll of bandages and antiseptic and stares again at the slow seep of red down the ripped flesh. Fragile, so fragile, no matter how legendary he is. Just one misstep, and his life will leak out of him like silt through a sieve. “Do… you need assistance treating them?”
“Aw, I’ll manage, thanks.” He takes them, but instead of getting to work cleaning the blood that has seeped through the wounds, he just looks at Flins almost hesitantly.
“Yes?” Flins says. “Are you sure nothing is wrong?”
“No, no, I’m good. I just…” Varka clears his throat and looks away. Flins frowns. “If you want… if you need to… I don’t mind you taking a bite of me, you know.”
Flins stares at him for a minute, gears working furiously in his brain. Eventually he gives up after Varka has turned somewhat red and says, “What?”
“Oh, no, these wounds aren’t clean. I meant, since I’m dangling them in front of you, it must be tough to cope with.” He’s rubbing his neck and Flins has no idea what’s going on. “But you can take a bite, like, out of my neck later, if it’ll satiate you. I really don’t mind! I don’t want you to hide it around me. I want you to be yourself.” He jerks his head back and gives Flin’s the most sweet, earnest eyes, and that’s great, but Flins is at a loss.
“Bite… your neck?”
“Yeah! Unless that’s not the ideal spot?” Varka tilts his head and hums. “You’ll have to tell me, I don’t know the custom. Please, have at me. I can handle it. Don’t worry about me, I might even like it.” He wiggles his eyebrows and then laughs at himself, which is almost cute enough to distract Flins.
Flins stares. “I don’t understand. This is something you want me to do?”
“Yes, one hundred percent!” He nods eagerly.
“I see… I don’t know if this is the time to discuss it, but if you want…? We can certainly try that.”
“Really!?” Varka lights up. “It means so much that you trust me.”
Flins is taken aback, but who is he to judge the sexual desires of others? This isn’t that odd in the grand scheme of things. “If you would like it, of course, sir knight. You may always ask for what you want.”
“And you as well.”
After an awkward pause, Flins squints. “Right. Well. May we clean your wound now before we discuss this further?”
“Oh!” Varka starts and drops the bandages. “Shit, yeah, I forgot—” He starts going after them as they roll across the floor.
“Don’t bend at the waist, plea—”
Blood spurts out of Varka’s wound and they both curse loudly.
After Varka is successfully saved from more internal bleeding, Flins whisks him to the single bed in the lighthouse and tucks him in, insisting upon sleep and recovery at least until morning, and Varka eventually gives in.
“What about the biting…?” Varka starts to ask, looking guilty of all things, but Flins shushes him immediately.
“You can’t be thinking about something like that at a time like this,” Flins scolds. “I swear, it’s a wonder you made it to forty. We are not doing anything intimate until you’re healed.”
“But… I—” Varka shrinks away. “Yeah, alright… I guess it would be bad when I’m already bleeding…”
“Sleep, alright? Please?” Flins smooths out his blankets and steps away. “And stay still this time?”
“What about you? Will you sleep in the lantern? Don’t you want to come in with me?” Varka says pitifully, reaching out from under the covers and tugging on Flins’s jacket.
Flins sighs and takes his hand gently. “Next time, love. Let me treat you as human, just once, alright? Nothing can reach you here. I’ll watch over you until you’re unbreakable again.”
Varka chuckles sheepishly and squeezes his hand. “Deal.”
***
A few weeks later, after some miraculous healing by whoever Varka has employed on his team over in Amsvartnir, he pulls Flins into the same bed at the lighthouse and demonstrates his incomparable excitement about being cleared for all strenuous exercise. This is lovely and wonderful et cetera et cetera, until Flins remembers Varka’s request from when he was injured and taps Varka urgently on the shoulder.
“Yes, darling?” Varka says into his ear, sliding his hands up Flins’s thighs and nearly derailing the train of thought entirely.
“Would you still like me to bite you?”
Varka jerks back with wide eyes. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. Of course I would. I won’t change my mind.”
“Okay…?” He must feel really strongly about this. “I forgot as well and I sincerely apologize.”
“Aw, don’t say that. It’s no rush.” He smiles and kisses Flins’s nose. “Whenever you feel like it is A-okay with me.”
“Understood.” Flins cups his cheek. “Alright, keep going. It’ll be awkward if I just sit here and do it.”
Varka beams and laughs. “Yes sir.”
Flins kisses him deeply, humming softly as he moves, intertwining their fingers on the pillow. He trails his lips down his jaw, down his neck, until he can feel Varka’s pulse thundering under his mouth. He licks and mouths at the skin at the side of his neck, testing the reaction.
Varka shudders and exhales shakily, but he doesn’t flinch away, so Flins unveils his glamour on his fangs, pressing the points gently to Varka’s neck so he can feel them, to make sure that’s what he wants. Varka nuzzles the top of his hair and hikes Flin’s leg over his shoulder, rocking into him deeper and ripping a high-pitched sound from Flin’s throat.
Flins bites hard, careful to avoid piercing the delicate skin of the neck, and then sucks the spot between his teeth, exploring the grooves he left there with his tongue. He can see the appeal, the carnal desire to sink one’s teeth into what is theirs. Varka strokes his hair and stays still for him, whispering praises and encouragement, holding him steady when he finishes across their stomachs and cries against the crook of his jaw.
“That was great, baby. Good job. Was it okay? Was it nice?” Varka says breathlessly once they’ve cleaned up and are lying under the blankets.
“Of course,” Flins says. “I should be asking you that. Did I hurt you? Was it too painful?”
Varka shakes his head like a dog. “No! No, never, barely felt it!”
Flins frowns. He thought he bit him pretty hard. He figured a bit of the pain was a part of the appeal, but maybe he was wrong. But then again, Varka’s pain tolerance is crazy.
“Can I see them?” Varka asks after a moment, pulling back to peer at Flins’s face. When Flins furrows his brow, Varka brings a hand to his own mouth and pulls his lip back to reveal his teeth.
“Ohh.” Flins opens his mouth and bares his fangs.
Varka very delicately brings a thumb to his mouth and pokes experimentally at the teeth. Flins tries not to laugh at his serious expression and fails when Varka smiles at him.
“Beautiful.”
“You like them?”
“I do.”
Oh, he loves me. He really loves me and he even likes that I’m a fae. How blessed am I? is something that has crossed his mind a few times since they got together, but never has rung truer until now. He wraps his arms around Varka tightly and listens to Varka’s laugh rumble with his ear against his chest.
Varka feels around his neck carefully, exploring the damage Flins left. It’s nothing horrible, and Flins expects a nice bruise to form at most. Varka’s face turns impassive as he fingers the grooves from his teeth, almost looking for something Flins is unaware of.
“You sure it does not hurt?” Flins whispers.
“Nah, not at all.” Varka dips his head to kiss him on the temple and whispers back, “But next time, I want you to actually drink. Don’t hold back.”
Drink? Flins frowns sleepily and thinks back to the wine they had earlier with dinner. Flins hadn’t had that much, but what did that matter for this activity? It’s not like they were shy enough with each other to need liquid courage. “Drink? Not everyone is a chronic drunkard such as some people I know, Grand Master. Moderation is key.”
Varka raises his eyebrows, then laughs. “Hey, don’t go comparing this to me. A little indulgence with the one you love is also key, don’t you think? I want to see all parts of you. Okay?"
“Sure,” Flins shrugs. “Next time, if you wish.” Maybe he can procure some of that Dandelion wine from Mondstadt that Varka loves so much. That would probably make for a wonderful evening. He’ll make a note of it, tomorrow…
***
Varka is determined. And when he sets his mind on something, he does not relent. Flins has been holding back for ages now, and Varka won't be satisfied until his lover knows he can trust him with his true nature. He's seen Flins’s wide eyed stares whenever he gets injured, the way he clenched his jaw when Varka came to his house bleeding all over the place last week. It must be painful abstaining from a meal right in front of you like that. Varka has decided to take action. He's waited long enough and won't let Flins suffer any more.
It hurts that he doesn't think Varka can handle his secret, sure, but they'll figure it out and in the end their relationship will be stronger for it. Varka will get him to give in and partake in what he wants.
It sure is hard dating a vampire. Good thing Varka has connections for just this sort of dilemma.
Varka likes to think he and Nefer are, as Dahlia says, homies. He knows Nefer does not like to think that, but he’s confident he’ll win her over one day.
Her reaction to seeing him sitting himself down in her waiting room one fine day and waving enthusiastically is to sneer and turn right back around, snapping the curtain to her office shut. Varka can hear her and Jahoda arguing quietly behind it for a minute before Jahoda ventures out and returns his wave nervously.
“Grand Master! What a surprise hahaha… Boss said to ask you why you’re here without an appointment?”
“Jahoda! Great to see you. How's the business been?”
“Ohhh just fine… you know… business as usual…” The office curtain is seemingly kicked from the other side with a loud thump. Jahoda straightens like someone dropped ice down the back of her collar. “But that doesn’t matter because you’re not the one asking questions here! What do you want?”
“I know it’s Nefer’s lunch hour, so I dropped by to ask her something.” He smiles and puts down the book on Sumeru trade routes that was on the tea table.
“Oh… I mean—! Boss says that is not acceptable and you need to make an appointment! Can I put you on the books?”
“No need,” he says. “She owes me for the use of Favonius manpower last month claiming those hoarder caves above Starsand.”
Jahoda’s eyes dart to the curtain. “W-well, she, uh, doesn’t have to listen to your terms outside working hours.”
“Aw. Not even for a friend who saved her months of searching for a Mondstadtian criminal’s activity in Nod-Krai for a client’s legal case?”
Jahoda looks like she’s going to dissolve into a puddle as she flounders.
“I’ve been at the call of the Curatorium for some time now… would be a shame if my dear friend thought so little of our close friendship after so much hardship…”
Nefer throws the curtain back angrily. “Alright, fucking hell. You’ve been hanging out too much with that slimy lightkeeper,” she snaps. “Jahoda, go run some errands. There’s a list behind the counter.”
Jahoda seems all too thrilled. “On it, Boss!”
Nefer jerks her head back at her office and Varka follows her back, bidding goodbye to Jahoda’s back as she sprints out the door.
“Honestly, Varka, this better be good. I’m sick of you dropping in whenever you please. I’ve been working since five in the morning.” She throws herself down in her office chair and kicks one leg over the other.
“Rough. Sorry ‘bout that. I brought you a gift.” He holds up a wide brown bottle, which she snatches out of his grip.
“Is this coffee?” One severe eyebrow raises and she taps her long nails against the glass. “Good choice. I assumed it would be some kind of alcohol if it was procured by a lush such as yourself.”
“Ouch! People keep mentioning that lately. Maybe I should cut back.”
“I think we’re past ‘maybe’.” She starts to unwrap the bottle cap right there. “So, let’s go, what do you want? Is this more useless drivel or do you actually have an emergency?”
“No emergency! I’m in need of some friendly advice from someone who’s in the know about the ways of the world. Or at least about Nod-Krai.”
“What did you do now? Don’t tell me you ran straight into a Fatui base alone again.”
“That was one time.”
“It was two times.” She glowers. “And I don’t want to hear about it a third.”
“I said it’s personal this time.”
“Great.” She rolls her eyes and takes a swig from the bottle.
“I need you to tell me what you know about vampires.”
She pauses mid swallow, then looks up at him like he’s crazy. “Huh?”
“Vampires. I know they’re rare, but there’s so little information on them accessible to the public. Do you know much about them?”
Nefer clicks her nails on the desk. “Hold on, did you find a vampire? Is this a threat? Is Nod-Krai in danger again already?”
“No, not a threat. A… friend? Let's say.”
“An ally? Who is a vampire? Someone I know?”
“No, not that you know,” he says automatically. He can’t reveal Flins’s secret, even to someone like Nefer. “It’s somewhat of a… confidential situation.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Well, I can’t help much if you won’t give me details.” She crosses her legs and sits back in her chair. “I’ve never met a vampire. What I know is general knowledge from decades past.”
“I’d just like to know about their blood-drinking habits. Are they dangerous to the victim? Do they drain their victims dry? Is that an issue?”
“I mean, I guess I could do more research, but there have been several documented cases of vampires coexisting with humans, even in cases of feeder-donor dynamics. I believe it's an incredibly varied mix of anecdotes."
“So there’s no reason a vampire would dislike human blood.”
“That’s a part of their curse. They crave human blood.” Nefer frowns. “What are you talking about?”
“Do you think they might prefer one human’s blood over another? Or have preferences?”
“That might be the case. They prefer human blood, but within the species of humans I’m sure there are differences in taste, yes.”
“Okay.” He sits forward. “I need you to tell me how to make my blood taste better.”
“VARKA, WHO THE FUCK IS DRINKING YOUR BLOOD?”
“A vampire.”
She gives him the most disgusted look he's ever seen on her and then buries her face in her hands. “I knew you were nuts, but this really takes the cake.”
“Haha, my bad. I just really wanna help them out. It must be difficult living around humans and hiding their true nature, don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Any advice?”
“Then let them drink, I guess? It’s your life, you don’t need my permission to risk it. I’m sure you can handle yourself if anything goes south.”
“Well, that’s the thing, they won’t drink my blood. I’m starting to think they don’t like the look of it. Maybe it smells bad.”
“What.”
He sighs deeply and sinks a little in his seat. “I need to figure out how to make my blood taste better.”
Her jaw drops and she says nothing.
“Or… or, what if they're getting blood from another source? What if there's someone else they're drinking from?” He groans. “What if they're trying to spare me from the pain and they decided they should bite someone else?”
“I regret allying myself with you.”
“Now, now. I provide many assets to your business.”
“But not to my mental state.”
“Is there something I can eat to make my blood taste different?” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You know, like how some people say eating pineapple can make your—”
“I know you did not just say that to me,” Nefer says icily.
“Kinda like that, though!”
“You are such a loser—”
“Point is, I came to ask your advice about this dilemma. Do you have any thoughts?”
She opens her mouth.
“Nice thoughts.”
She scoffs. “You're going beyond what my intel could hope to provide. This sounds too personal.”
“I said it was personal.”
“Too personal as in I don't want to know all this!”
“I have no one else to ask!”
She screams into her hands, smooths her hair back, and fixes him with an overly pleasant smile.
“Listen, Varka. As much as I’m sure this is weighing on you, I do not know what will make your blood tasty enough to entice a vampire. Now that I’ve said those words for the first time in my life, I ask that you get out of my building.”
“No ideas? At all?”
“NO.”
“I guess I’ll have to keep searching.”
“My professional advice is that you don’t, but I know you’re not going to listen to me.”
“Nope.”
“Goodbye, Varka, hopefully it’ll be longer before I see you again.”
With that, he senses he's reached her limits for the day. He stands with a sigh and trudges back to where he came in. She does not bother walking him to the door.
“So nice to see you too!” He waves on his way out and stifles a snicker at the frustrated noise she makes.
***
“Illuga? That you?”
The kid’s head jerks up from the stack of boxes he’s carrying across the metal deck and Varka actively watches him run into a pole, scattering everything he’s carrying.
Illuga apologizes at least ten times while Varka and another lightkeeper help him pick up the contents, ears tomato red.
“That was a rude way to welcome you to Piramida. I’m so, so sorry,” he says as he leads Varka up to the inner quarters of the base. “I just came back from a scouting trip to the Cliffwatch today and I’ve been a little off my game. Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
“No worries, kiddo! It’s my bad for dropping by without notice. I’m good, thanks.”
“Luckily I have no meetings for the rest of the evening,” Illuga says. “I’m always happy to receive a visit from you or any of your knights.”
“Right back at ya.” Varka takes the offered seat next to the fireplace. “Actually, I didn’t come for business or anything. I have a question about a friend I’m hoping you can help me with.”
“Oh?” Illuga sits down across from him and sips his own mug of hot water. Varka asked him why he was drinking it during one of their first meetings and Illuga said he likes to because it’s good for the stomach, and because the nights get so cold in the mountains. “I can try to help.”
Varka sighs deeply. “This isn't me trying to gossip, you know? Just… worried about someone I care about.”
Illuga nods sagely. “Is it about Mr. Flins?”
Varka blanches. He didn't think he gave it away already. “What… makes you say that?”
“If you're coming to me, who else do we know mutually? And, Grand Master, respectfully, he won't shut up about you. I would hope you care about him.”
Varka feels a grin break across his face and he scratches his cheek absently. “Really? He does?”
“Uh-huh.” Illuga crosses an ankle over one knee.
“Okay, well… there's no easy way to say this… but have you seen Flins doing anything strange like disappearing or seeking out a certain person periodically? Maybe receiving confidential packages?”
Illuga eyes get big. “Are you referring to the fact that Flins isn't human?”
Varka's jaw drops. “You know too?”
Illuga nods vigorously. “I figured it out. He won't admit it, but it's obvious, isn't it? The nocturnal habits, the graveyard, the ears, the teeth…” Illuga leans close. “He's a…”
“Say it.”
“Vampire.”
They both snap their fingers. “Exactlyyy.”
Varka continues, “Because of that, I've been trying to understand him more and make him feel better about our differences, but I'm afraid he's avoiding it so I don't think badly of him.”
“Oh no.” Illuga brings a hand to his mouth. “Is he self-conscious about it? I hope I didn’t upset him when I was giving him a hard time. I thought he was just teasing me because I’m too young to know.”
“You too?” Varka sighs. “I’m just not sure. You know how he is, he teases to deflect his feelings.”
“Yeah. Man, he should know we wouldn’t think any less of him because of something like that.”
“Hiding it among humans so long must take a toll on your self-image. I can’t blame him, it must be strange to reveal it after all that time.” Varka rests his elbows on his knees. “Which is why I need him to know he can embrace it and that I’ll never judge.”
“Is it blood? Is that what you're asking about? That’s a good point, I wonder where he drinks from. I’ve never seen anything in all the time I’ve known him. He’s a pretty secretive guy.”
“Just tell me one thing,” Varka claps a hand on Illuga’s shoulder. “Have you seen any sign of him drinking someone else’s blood? Like, from their body? Does he go off with anyone? Could it be like a service?”
Illuga’s eyebrows shoot up into his hair. “Are you mad Flins might be drinking someone else’s blood, Sir Varka?”
Varka smiles innocently. “Noooo. Haha. Of course not.”
“Righttt…” He chews his lip between his teeth. “I’ve never seen or heard of him doing anything like that, but that’s just me. From what I’ve seen, he’s always liked to be alone. He doesn’t even want a pet.”
“Oh, okay.” He tries not to look too relieved.
“I’ve never delivered any mail to him that the lightkeepers didn’t package themselves, so there’s no mysterious secret delivery either. I suppose it's possible he gets blood delivered from somewhere else, but I've never witnessed it.”
“I see… You don’t suppose he bites animals, do you?”
“I’ve considered that! Maybe that's his solution. It might be the simplest way to eat.”
“Yeah…”
“Other than that, I’m afraid I don’t know much else.”
Varka strokes his chin. “Hmm. Well, I appreciate your input.”
“Sorry I couldn’t help more. If it comes up, pass my apologies on to him, too. He has my full support.”
“Now, now, no need to apologize.” Varka stands and stretches his arm across his chest. “Thanks for the heart-to-heart, kid. Glad Flins has people like you in his life.”
“Yeah…” Illuga follows him to the door. Just before Varka grabs the doorknob to leave he adds, “Mr. Varka?”
“Yeah?” He turns and sees Illuga staring up at him from over a foot below Varka’s eye level.
Illuga locks his limbs straight and swallows, brow twitching. “Our factions are professional allies, but Flins has known me since I was taken in by Nikita. He’s kind of strange, but he’s like an uncle to me. So watch what you do to him with this info. I don’t care who you are. You know where my loyalty lies.”
Varka beams and ruffles his hair, earning a strangled sound of surprise. “I’d have been worried if you’d said anything less. You have my word, he has nothing but my best.”
And with that, he takes his leave.
***
“Varka. Dear. What, may I ask, is this?” Flins says faintly.
Varka is at the lighthouse again today for a normal visit over the weekend, except instead of some kind of wine or pastries he is presented with the dead corpse of a pheasant neatly packaged in a basket like it’s for a picnic.
Varka watches him very closely and eagerly, gauging the reaction Flins just isn’t sure how to give him.
Flins places the basket on the metal table. They’re outside the lighthouse at Flins’s tinkering station, enjoying the break from the rainy weather that has been plaguing the island for the past week. Varka came to visit today with the promise of food, which Flins took to mean soup, or krumkakes, or even just alcohol. A fully feathered bird is a surprise.
“I brought you something so you could feed,” Varka says unhelpfully. “I realized maybe I was being too forward, so this may be easier to start with. This way you won’t worry for my well-being and we can ease into taking directly from me later.”
Flins holds up a hand and shakes his head. “I don’t… what do you mean by… hold on… can you explain again?”
Varka pats the wing of the pheasant with a large hand. “Haha, my bad, I’m overexplaining here. I brought you lunch!”
“You’d like to have a cookout?” Flins glances around at his ancient stove, at potential bare areas where he could build a fire. He cooks fish sometimes, but the trees on the island have been waterlogged for days. “I wasn’t expecting to, so it might be very difficult to find good firewood on the island… but we could probably get a small fire going with the supplies I have downstairs, as long as we don’t use too many rations…”
“What? No,” Varka shakes his head. “It’s not to cook, not for me. I want you to feed off it. I mean, if it’s something you like to eat, of course. Just thought I’d give it a go, see if you’d enjoy it. We had a good hunt earlier for the camp and I saved this little one for you. It’s still really fresh, I promise, I came right here. This way you can get comfortable with feeding around me, you know? I know you held back that one time.”
Flins does not know. He pushes the pheasant basket away so Varka will stop pointing at it and places his hands on Varka’s forearms.
“Varka, what are you saying? You want me to eat it without cooking it? Is this a Mondstadt tradition? I… this isn’t even plucked, so it might take a while to prepare, cooked or not.”
Varka looks confused. “No, it has nothing to do with Mondstadt. It’s for your… you know, your true nature? What you eat?” Varka whispers the last part, even though they’re alone with only ghosts to overhear them. And the ghosts are eavesdropping; Flins can feel their eyes on the back of his neck. He’ll have to talk to them again about the nosiness.
Flins feels just as lost as Varka looks, but he latches on to that last part and tries, “You want to see the way I prefer to eat?”
“Yeah!” Varka nods. “Exactly. Remember what I said? I’d like to see all parts of you. So, would you consider it? Showing me even what you think is inhuman?”
Flins tilts his head. “Of course I will, my darling. I’ll show you whatever part of my inhumanity you want, if you’ll have me. But what does that have to do with eating a dead bird raw?”
Varka blinks. “I… I guess I just assumed all the blood would dry up if it was cooked.”
Flins balks. “The blood?”
“Yes?” Varka says, like it’s obvious.
It’s too much. Something has not been adding up and it’s just getting weirder every time they spend time together lately. Flins stares at him, looks back at the pheasant who mercifully doesn’t have to bear witness to this, looks at the couple of ghosts who are watching them with varying levels of amusement, then looks back up at the expectant blue eyes.
He grabs the man’s hands and clutches them between their chests very sincerely. “Varka. What are you talking about.”
Varka seems taken aback at the bluntness. “I’m talking about you feeling comfortable enough to drink around me, and eventually drink my blood!”
Utter silence falls between them, save for the muffled cackles that the ghosts try to stifle. Flins’s jaw hit the ground and Varka stutters wordlessly before regaining himself enough to insist frantically, “But only if you’re ready and want to, I was kind of disappointed you didn’t want to tell me so I thought you were ashamed and I wanted to try and show you it’s totally fine to eat normally around me because I love you and I like you for your authentic self—”
“Varka, shush.”
Varka shuts his mouth so fast Flins hears his teeth snap together. He looks so guilty and nervous that Flins has to take a moment to reach up and pat his cheek to soothe him.
Then he says, “Varka, I don’t know how you possibly came to this conclusion, so please tell me why you want me to drink blood?”
“Don’t your kind drink blood to survive?” Varka’s eyebrows push together.
Flins stares. “Why would the fae drink blood to survive?”
“Fae?”
More silence. The ghosts are making an even louder ruckus. Flins dispels their presence sharply, sending their forms drifting back towards their graves.
“Varka, you did know I’m a snowland fae, didn’t you?”
Varka’s eyes get huge.
Flins giggles behind his hand and sways back and forth on his feet while Varka apparently buffers. “Oh dear. Was there a miscommunication? What were you under the impression of?”
After a minute, Varka leans very close, very serious, and says despairingly, “Flins, I thought you were a vampire.”
***
Flins laughs until he’s crying, crying real tears down his face, bent over the metal table while Varka sits with his head in his hands next to him. It’s been literal decades since he’s laughed this hard, gasping and almost choking on air while his whole upper body shakes.
“Everything makes sense. I can’t believe I didn’t realize what you meant,” Flins gasps while Varka groans faintly. “All those odd questions you’ve been asking…”
Varka waves his hand. “To be fair, you’re a spooky, nocturnal man who lives alone on a haunted island and never eats in front of anyone. You have fangs, which you even showed me! Can you blame me for assuming?”
“I thought the Traveler told you what I am and I never bothered to check if I was right,” Flins says. “How stupid of me. I never told my own lover.”
“I just thought it was a sensitive topic," Varka sighs. “I figured you were insecure or scared to tell me.”
“Did you think I wanted to drink your blood the whole time? You thought I was lusting for your blood? Is that why you asked me to bite you?” Flins wheezes and doubles over, forehead against the table.
“You were eyeing my wounds that day and I thought it was like a temptation to see it right in front of you,” Varka grumbles.
“I was just worried about you!”
“Yeah, that makes more sense now.”
Flins grabs Varka's hand on the table and squeezes it while he wipes his face. “I am sorry, I'm not making fun of you, I just…” He leans his head on Varka's shoulder. “This is ridiculous. I should've noticed way sooner.”
“Would you have told me if you had?”
Flins snorts. “No. I would've had the funniest week of my life if I had noticed before you.”
“Uh-huh, that's what I thought.” Varka smiles wryly.
Flins turns to face Varka better on the bench. “Why don't we start over, shall we? I'm Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins, and I am a snowland fae from Snezhnaya. And you're Varka the Knight of Boreas, the mortal from the city of freedom, correct?”
“That's right,” Varka says, nodding.
“My flames are flickers of my true self, as you have seen when we battle and when I retreat into my lantern. My fangs and ears are pointed, but they are purely fae. No vampirism.”
Varka hums. “Ears too?”
Flins lets the glamor drop from his ears and teeth once more.
“Amazing. So pretty,” Varka appraises, tucking his hair behind one ear. “I like them.”
“It means a lot that you say that, thank you.”
Varka gazes towards his lantern. “So the flame is your true self? Is this not your true body?”
“Ah, partially,” Flins says. He holds it up by the metal ring and they watch the blue flames flicker inside the glass. “It's the human approximation of my true self. I could change it if I wanted with my glamor, but I only adjust small traits to look human, like the teeth. I don't have anyone to trick with my appearance. My baser form looks similar to this one.”
Varka's smile grows. “Well. I guess I have to ask, when can I see it?”
Flins huffs a laugh. “Before anything like that, I'd like to backtrack and ask you once again; are you alright with me being inhuman? I'd like you to think and speak now if you hold any reservations. I would not fault you. Our kind have been called monsters and creatures of the night. We do not mesh well with humans.”
Varka scratches his cheek sheepishly and clears his throat. “So, uh… I know I kind of made an idiot out of myself, but the point still stands regardless, you know. No matter what, I love everything about you, whether you’re a human, vampire, or fae. None of this will ever be too much for me, so with me you don’t have to hide it.”
Flins lowers his gaze to Varka’s hand in his. “You’re a chivalrous knight through and through. Your kindness still catches me off guard. That said, I’m so relieved you feel this way.”
Varka grins. “Aw come on. I thought you were raring to suck my blood dry this morning, you think a little flame is gonna scare me away?” Varka brushes the arch of his ear with a large, calloused thumb, still fascinated.
“Well. I'm not a vampire, but I'm not quite what people expect.”
“Makes no difference to me.”
“Even if I don't drink blood, I don't eat quite like you do.”
“I'm sure I can accommodate that.”
“I am quite scary,” Flins says seriously.
Varka laughs loudly. “I already knew that when I first met you, angel, and I thought it was hot. I'm younger than your centuries, but I've seen the wild and the weird of the world. Try me.”
“Okay.”
Flins lowers his eyelashes and dissolves his human body into his flames, feeling his mouth rip open towards his ears, his hair lick and curl around his high collar.
He raises one clawed hand carefully, in case Varka flinches away, but Varka stays still as Flins lifts a hand and traces a finger down the soft skin of his cheek. Not burning, not shocking, just there, a current of ancient magic against fragile human flesh. It should be a strange mix of hot and cold, it should be unnerving, but it shouldn't hurt.
“Tell me what you think,” Flins says. “Be honest.”
The quick smile Flins is so familiar with flickers across Varka's face, unchanged. “Lovely.”
“Lovely?”
Varka stares, the firelight reflected in the blue of his eyes, and Flins thinks there really is nothing more beautiful.
“You were right, you're pretty scary.” Varka’s hands close around his waist and pull, tugging him nearly onto his lap. Flins inhales sharply when a rough hand pushes itself directly into his hair, sinking into the fire until his palm rests against the back of his skull. “And I've never seen anything so lovely in my life.”
Flins’s eyes narrow and he smiles slowly. “Flatterer.”
“Yours only.”
Varka matches his grin and leans forward to figure out how to kiss a faerie, and Flins has never been so lucky.