Chapter Text
The clock ticked mockingly, Addison's gaze fixed on the minute hand as she watched it inch ever forward in time. She found herself doing the math in her head, thoughts spiralling as her fingers tapped against the kitchen island anxiously. The sound of rain hitting the roof was almost deafening, a chorus of tiny hisses filling her ears. She sighed, leaning forward and taking a slow, deep breath, weight supported by her arms as they braced against the edge of the marble. She shook her head, opening the top drawer and pulling out the corkscrew, grabbing the first bottle of wine she could find (French, a vintage port) and watching as the deep red liquid slowly filled the glass.
She picked it up gingerly, swirling it carefully and watching the small whirlpool the motion created. Addison hummed, lifting it to her lips and gently sipping. Slowly, one glass became two and two became three. As her worry faded, a small pressure began to build behind her eyes and her head started to spin. She blinked, widening her eyes and blinking slowly in the attempt to regain focus; nothing happened, she sighed and started pouring the rest of the bottle.
Then, a knock at the door. Just once, loud & violent. A battering ram trying to splinter the wood of the brownstone. Addison yelped, grip slacking on the bottle in her hand for just long enough to drop it. The glass broke, a sharp pain shooting through her foot and a burgundy puddle blooming onto the hardwood floors; Addison swore, looking down to see a small red drop at the top of her left sock slowly begin to expand.
More knocking, now multiple frantic raps - she heard a voice sob through the door, desperate and almost animalistic.
"Addison!" Derek howled, hammering on the door once more. "Addie!"
She whipped her head to the sound, cataloguing his pained, hoarse cries; she scrambled over to the door, pain blinding her as more blood seeped through her sock. She opened the door in a hurry, rain pelting down on the streets in front of the steps. Derek was soaked: hair slicked back and dripping; two of his shirt buttons were ripped off, the edge of his collar stained red - the jacket he had left the house in that morning was nowhere to be found and he was deathly pale.
He rushed into her arms, sweeping her into an embrace and burying his head into the crook of her neck. She took a few steps backwards, allowing him to enter the threshold and shutting the door behind him with her good foot. Her fingers trailed to his hair, twirling the wavy, wet strands as he sobbed into her shoulder.
"Oh, God, Addie I don't - I don't know what happened! One minute I was - I was cutting through Central Park and the next I - I-"
"Derek." She cooed, gently lifting his head, stroking his cheek with her thumb. "Honey, you're not making any sense. It's okay - it's just me. Everything's alright now."
Derek gulped, throat bobbing as he nodded solemnly, head freezing when he tilted his head downwards. Addison followed his gaze, landing on her almost dark red sock.
She sighed, laughing dryly. "Oh, it's stupid, I dropped the-" She looked up at Derek again, freezing.
His eyes were fixed on her foot, gaze shifting from the soft, somber look he had given her moments ago into something primal - hungry.
"Der?"
Derek swallowed, opening his mouth to speak and revealing long, sharp fangs in place of his canines. "Addison, run."
"What are you-"
He looked up, his stare no longer recognisable - no longer human. "Run." It growled - a deep, animalistic gravel creeping into his tone.
She stepped backwards, only for her blood-soaked sock to give out under her weight and send her tumbling into the floor. Her back hit the floorboards with a loud thud, knocking the air out of her lungs as she scrambled away from him. It leapt forward, sitting itself on top of her - thighs bracketing her waist as it sank its teeth into her neck. At first, it was painful - the violent puncturing forcing a moan out of her mouth. Then, a shockwave of pleasure; a gasp escaped her lips as she shivered, reaching out to grab his hair and dragging her nails through his scalp, pulling a strand with her fingers as her hips bucked desperately.
Her eyes rolled back into her head. "Oh, God, Derek, I-"
She felt the faint sensation of something being taken from her: slowly, fervently. Her mind flashed to her last blood donation earlier that year. She made the connection - primitive, existential terror overriding her as her grip on his hair slackened.
"Derek..." She panted, hands moving to push up against his chest (a futile effort - he far outweighed her), "Derek, honey..."
A low purr exited his throat as it drank, Addison's extremities beginning to feel faint. She fumbled around on the floor, desperately trying to grab onto something when her nails clicked against a shoe (hers, Christian Dior, from the previous year's spring collection).
She grabbed it. She swung. A sharp crack echoed throughout the house. She felt the fangs exit her neck as he groaned, hissing. She swung again. He flew off of her, falling back onto the floor, clutching his jaw. He blinked, eyes scanning his surroundings before widening at her neck. It felt hot - she clutched it and was met with warm, flowing blood; she used her free hand to press down on it, panting. The shoe was still in her hand.
His gaze was filled with remorse, bloody tears beginning to well up in his eyes. "Addie-"
"Derek? Is that - are you... you again?"
He nodded, a sob wracking his chest. "Fuck, Addie, I'm so sorry, I- I don't know what happened! I couldn't - I couldn't do anything - it was like I was a passenger in my own body, I-"
He crawled over on all fours - slowly, hesitantly. She dropped the shoe, pressing down on her oozing neck harder with her free hand. He sat next to her, gently cradling her face with his bloodied hands - she noticed a laceration on his jaw.
"I think I can - I think I can fix it." He whispered, head gesturing towards her aching neck.
"You can?"
"I think - I don't know, I just have this like, instinct to lick it?"
She laughed - hoarse, sardonic, pained. "I - uh - go for it? Just... please try not to drink any more of my blood, honey."
He nodded, lip quivering slightly as the tears (blood tears - it made her skin crawl) streaked his face. "Right." He whispered.
She took her hands off of her neck, heart rising into her throat at the sight of her palms slick with blood. Derek's stubble tickled her neck slightly before his cold, wet tongue swept her skin. She shuddered, another wave of pleasure overtaking her as the holes closed. She touched them experimentally, only to find perfect, smooth skin in place of the deep, thin puncture wounds there just seconds ago.
She blinked, looking at Derek. "How did you..."
"I don't know. Oh, God, Addie, I'm so sorry." He mumbled, head sinking into his hands as sobs wracked his chest.
"Honey..." She cooed, gently wrapping her hands around the back of his neck and tilting his head up to face her. "I know. It's okay. It wasn't you. It's over now."
He blinked, more bloody tears wetting his face. She pressed their foreheads together, closing her eyes.
"It's gonna be okay. We're gonna figure it out." She whispered.
"Addie-"
She pulled their heads away, looking him in the eye. "In sickness and in health, Derek. And this definitely seems like sickness."
He swallows, teeth red and mouth bloodied. "I drank your blood."
She sighed, "I know... Look, I didn't plan on marrying one of The Lost Boys, but you're still my husband, Derek. I'm always gonna be here, I promise. We'll figure it out."
He nodded, "We'll figure it out."
"Together."
"Together."
She kissed him, softly, slowly - mouth firmly closed for fear of tasting her own blood.
"Come on, let's get cleaned up." She whispered, slowly rising from the floor onto to stumble as dizziness overtook her.
Derek caught her, steadying her with his hands around her waist. "Are you okay?" He asked, eyes flicking her up and down in concern.
"Yeah, fine, I'm just - a little light-headed, I guess. Wasn't exactly prepared to give blood today."
Shame filled his eyes. He nodded, "Right. I - uh - let me carry you?"
"Derek-"
"Please. Besides-" He looks down, gesturing to her blood-red sock with his hand - the small shard of glass still wedged in her foot. "You really shouldn't be walking on that."
She laughed, "Okay." She said, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck.
He swept her off her feet, carefully cradling her in his arms as he walked her over to the kitchen. She tucked her head into his chest, heart breaking when she realised there was no rise and fall in his chest nor could she feel his heartbeat. Gently, he lowered her onto the stool next to the kitchen island before striding over to the sink and grabbing the first aid kit from underneath. He snapped on a pair of gloves, giving her a small smile; blood was stuck in the gaps between beard hairs.
The headache began to creep in by the time he finished, gently wiping the area and applying a closing strip over the wound; the offending, blood-soaked fragment laid on the island, the remaining pieces of shattered glass were still spread on the floor, wine having already soaked into the floorboards. He looked up at her, eyebrows furrowing.
"You don't look so good."
"Says the dead guy."
He gave her a broken smile, getting up off the floor and walking over to the pantry, opening it.
"What do you want?"
She blinked, "Um... I don't know."
He produced a small box of saltines, raising it over his shoulder for her to see. "These okay?"
She smiled, "Yeah, thanks."
He nodded, grabbing a cup and filling it with water. He set the water down first; she took a small sip as he opened the box, emptying it into a small bowl and placing it in front of her.
She swallowed the water, setting the cup down and picking up a cracker. "Thanks." She muttered, taking a bite.
He nodded, leaning against the counter. "In sickness and in health."
She smiled, chewing slowly.
A few minutes passed as Addison slowly ate the saltines, intermittently taking sips of water. All the while, Derek watched her - eyes fixed upon her (was he even blinking?).
Addison swallowed, "Honey? Everything okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just... really hungry."
She laughed, silently offering him a saltine.
He chuckled, wiping away a remnant tear (smudging blood all over his face in the process) and taking the cracker by the corner, slotting it into his mouth. His face shrivelled, his disgust evident as he forcefully swallowed.
"They're not that bad, are they?" She asked.
He gagged, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could respond, rushing to the bathroom. Slowly, Addison got up off the stool, limping after him; Derek's gags and wet coughs echoed through the house.
The scene in front of her looked like a murder site - a small puddle of blood lined the floor, Derek hunched over the toilet as more of it escaped his mouth.
"Jesus Christ." Addison whispered, wincing as another loud wretch seared her eardrums.
She sighed, limping over to Derek's side as she stroked his hair with bloodied hands, nails scratching his scalp. She kneeled on the floor next to him, conscientious to not be in the splash range.
"It's okay." She soothed, patting him gently on the back as a dry sob left his throat. "I've got you."
The coughing continued. She winced with every splash and retch.
After far too long, Derek lifted his head up. Gingerly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he hauled himself off the floor, offering an arm to help Addison up as well. She grasped it, getting to her feet just before he closed the lid and flushed.
"How are you feeling?"
He sighed, wincing slightly as he smacked his lips. "You know how when people die they empty their bowels sometimes?"
She raised an eyebrow. "...Yeah?"
"I think I just puked my guts out. And maybe some other things."
She grimaced, resting her hands on his shoulders and stroking them sympathetically. "You feel a little better now at least?"
He shuddered, "I uh - I think so?"
She hummed, moving her hands to stroke the sides of his face. "How about we get cleaned up?"
He smiled, leaning into her touch. "Good idea."
She nodded, slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt, revealing a newly-acquired carpet of chest hair underneath. Addison paused, squinting as her fingers brushed against the thick, matted strands. Derek looked down at her hands, brows narrowing as he saw the curls.
"That's..." Derek trailed, jaw clenched.
Addison tittered, "Maybe you're a werewolf?"
"I thought werewolves were still alive." He croaked.
"And I thought they were fiction but here we are."
Silence. She undid the remaining buttons of the shirt and he shrugged it off, revealing even more hair. Addison blinked, trying to reconcile the (significantly smoother) image of Derek shirtless from just that morning to what she saw before her: dark curls so densely covering his chest it almost looked like fur, narrowing as it trailed down towards his stomach, widening as it approached and passed his navel. Addison's lips pressed into a thin line before she forced herself to laugh. "Should we get you some shampoo for this?" She teased, gently twirling a few wild, stray hairs in her fingers.
Derek laughed - a pained one. "I don't know. Part of me is still hoping this is all a dream."
She simply nodded.
He helped her pull the T-shirt (Derek's, his scent lingering around the collar) over her head and she helped him unbutton his pants. They undressed each other methodically, leaving their clothes in a "keep" pile (not stained in blood) and a "burn" pile (stained with far too much blood to reasonably wash out). She turned on the shower, sticking a hand under the water to test the temperature, beckoning him to enter behind her wordlessly. Blood - mostly his, a bit of hers - pooled at their feet, circling the drain as he carefully threaded his shampoo lathered fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. She wiped his face clean with her hands, the suds of the soap he bought last month ("Soap for your beard, Derek?" "What? I have a beautiful wife and I want to look my best for her.") dripping off his chin. She stared into stormy, lifeless blue eyes and she could faintly feel tears prick in the corner of her eyes. A weighted silence sat between them.
She turned off the faucet. He ran his hands through his hair, shaking off the excess water. They exited the shower. He handed Addison her towel, she handed Derek his. They dried off in silence.
"We can survive this." She whispered, voice trembling and curling further into the towel wrapped around her shoulders.
Derek pauses, lowering his towel off of his head and onto his shoulders, hair mussed. "You think so?" He asked, eyes void of hope.
She found herself fiddling with the gold band around her finger, his name and their wedding date engraved on the interior. "Yeah. Yeah, because - because we're Addison and Derek."
He looked at his own ring, smiling faintly before wrapping the towel around his waist. "Yeah. Yeah, we are."
Silence again.
They dressed wordlessly, falling into bed and embracing. She rested her head on his cold, soft chest as he wrapped an arm around her waist, playing with her hair.
"You don't have a pulse." She breathed, dangerously close to a sob.
"I know. I'm sorry."
"It's not - it's not your fault."
"I shouldn't have tried cutting through the park - not this late."
"We've done it a million times before together."
"Exactly. Together."
A beat. She swallowed.
"I..." He sighed, chest rising slightly as he made that singular breath, "I don't know what happened. One minute everything was fine and the next there was - there was this woman and she - she just jumped on me..."
She said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
"She just - she just started drinking and it was - God, Addie, it was better than sex, I don't even know how to describe it but - but I couldn't stop thinking about you. I had to come back to you. I couldn't - I couldn't let her do it. I couldn't-" He trailed off, breath hitching as he choked back a sob.
She lifted her head, watching as bloody tears pricked the corners of his eyes once again. She rose from the bed, reaching for the box of tissues on the nightstand and handing it to him. He sat up, leaning against the headboard and gently wiping his eyes.
"God, I'm - I'm sorry, I'm making a mess." He whimpered.
She took his free hand, gently stroking the back of it with her thumb. "It's okay. It's okay."
He nodded, setting aside the box and the blood-stained tissues. She moved to sit next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, their fingers intertwined between them.
Addison swallowed, "What did it taste like?"
He blinked, "The saltine? Like ashes."
"No, not the saltine I... What did I taste like? My - my blood."
"Oh..." He paused, considering his answer before speaking again, "Um - bitter-sweet, kind of. It was like - like I could taste your love and your fear compressed into a fine wine."
She nodded, morbid curiosity replaced by muted terror - she regretted asking.
"Addison?"
She hummed, lifting her head up and looking into his eyes.
"I love you."
She squeezed his hand. "I love you, too, Der."