〚 Walls ! 〛
‧͙⁺˚*･ tease ༓☾
❝ you did this to yourself ❞
BELLAMY LOOSELY HELD A CIGARETTE BETWEEN HIS TEETH AS HE DUG THROUGH THE FRIDGE. He wanted chocolate chip cookies, and luckily for him, some were left from Christmas. The floorboard right in front of the door creaked. Bellamy slowly blew out a puff of smoke. A quiet shit echoed with a muffled thump, just outside the door. Bellamy stubbed the cigarette out and prepared himself for a midnight snack better than cookies.
Hunger took over as the veins from under his eyes ran hot, fangs burning for something much richer. He almost wasn't able to stop himself from lunging at the warm body. He took a deep breath; it only made matters worse. The sound of Stiles' heart filled his ears.
Bellamy anchored himself to the wall. If he got any closer... He didn't want to think about that.
Stiles turned on the flashlight on his phone and managed to aim it right at Bellamy, sending himself into a panic. He tripped over the coffee table. Stiles landed on his back on the couch. It would be so easy for Bellamy to just get a sip.
"Your girlfriend's waiting on you," Bellamy gritted as he nodded towards the stairs. His fingers dug further into the doorframe.
Stiles took a deep breath and his heart slowed. He let out a long string of whispered, vulgar curses, directing a few at Bellamy, "The hell is wrong with you?"
Bellamy didn't respond. While the living room was silent for Stiles, Bellamy could hear the blood pumping through Stiles' body. His eyes drifted to Stiles' carotid. He swallowed. He tried to focus on the wall and the floor.
He had to get out of there. Bellamy brought his hand to his nose, rubbing it violently, "Have you been smoking?" Bellamy grabbed his keys off the table.
"Where are you going?"
"The hell do you care?" Bellamy slammed the door behind him a bit too hard. Bellamy needed another pack of cigarettes, a bottle of something that would dull this need, and then he would allow himself to get a snack... or two...
Stiles stared at the door as if it had personally offended him. He could smell cigarettes and the window above the sink was open, probably to rid the smell. When did Bellamy start doing that? It was becoming more and more apparent that Bellamy wasn't the same kid he remembered playing with at Aunt Rachel's.
But he wasn't anything dangerous, right? That wasn't possible. He'd just had a rough go in life. He just did some things he probably shouldn't have. Not everything was out to get him and his friends. He was just being paranoid. Bellamy was his cousin. He loved his cousin. Bellamy loved him. Bellamy couldn't harm a fly.
And if it was just the compulsion talking, Stiles didn't know.
"Don't make a sound. You're just getting a particularly gnarly hickey," Bellamy compelled. He went in for the carotid, for the second time that night. And, for the second time, he was interrupted.
"Sorry, boy, but you're gone have to find somewhere else to appease that appetite a yours," A gruff voice with an old southern drawl echoed from the entrance to the alley, "Beacon Hills got 'nuff of us already."
Bellamy closed his eyes as his head fell back. He nodded to himself with a deep sigh, "Get outta here. Forget my face." The guy walked past the vampire. Haz, the guy from the bar. The guy Brett "saved" him from. Because of course he wasn't just some random guy.
"I suggest you get on outta here, boy. Find 'nother town."
"There's one, small, tiny, problem with that idea, sir." Bellamy frowned
"And that is?"
"I like it here. Think I might try and stick around for a year or two. Who knows? Maybe I'll graduate this time around."
"Either you get outta here, or you learn how hard it is to fight someone centuries older than you." Haz threatened.
A sadistic grin pulled at his lips, "There's another problem with that. Come here, and I'll tell you all about it." Haz lunged at him. Bellamy let out a large sigh. He held up his hand, freezing Haz in mid-attack, "An' I was gone try and solve this civilly." Bellamy mocked the vampire's accent. Haz's eyes were wide. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest. Bellamy slowly took a few steps closer. Bellamy licked his lips as he whispered right into Haz's ear, "Just remember, you did this to yourself, boy."
"I-I think... I think we got off on the wrong foot-"
"Shhh... too late for that," Bellamy dragged a finger down his cheek, "You said Beacon Hills doesn't need any more vamps attracting attention. I'm gonna need you to expand on that more." Bellamy compelled as he released Haz from his magic.
The vampire told Bellamy about the other creatures in Beacon Hills. Banshees, kitsunes, wendigos, vampires, werewolves, and so much more. But the werewolves here were different. They didn't have to turn every full moon. The vampires in the area knew how to keep a low profile. None of them stuck together and they all moved often.
"Why did I tell you that?"
"You were compelled," Bellamy fixed the man's collar.
"But vampires can't compel other vampires."
Bellamy hummed, "Vampires can't do magic either," His hand trailed from Haz's hairline to his jaw. He was practically trembling under Bellamy's touch. Bellamy's eyes darkened as his grin grew into a truly terrifying smile, "You wanna see a magic trick?" Haz shook his head vehemently, "Too bad."
With the flick of his wrist, Haz lit on fire. Flames licked him up from head to toe. His body hit the ground and the flames dissipated. Bellamy looked down at the corpse, almost completely unrecognizable before he pulled out another cigarette and went back inside.
"Heyyy," Bellamy slurred with a giggle. He'd wandered through the streets of Beacon Hills a little too far.
"What's up?" Brett's voice was gravelly and much deeper.
"I... I dunno... where I... I left... ma car," Bellamy looked around, "I... I don' really... know how I got here..."
"Are you ok?" Brett sounded much more alert.
"Don' worry 'bout me, pretty boy."
"Bellamy, I'm gonna need you to tell me where you are."
"I dunno."
"Bel, look around. Tell me what you see."
"It's dark."
"It's 4 am. It's dark everywhere."
"Don' get snippy with me, mista."
"Bel, just tell me what's around you. Do you see any street signs? Or a building?"
"I think... Frige... no... Fa... Fiz... Frizzy..." Bellamy gave a confident nod that almost sent him to the ground, "There's a big glass. With little spinny thingies. I could watch them all night..."
"Is it the laundry mat on Fitz Street?" Brett asked. Bellamy squinted at the sign and decided it could be Fitz... but Frizzy was a much better name, "Bel?"
"Yessir!"
"Just... stay there. I'll be there shortly." Bellamy would have thanked him, or offered to thank him, but Brett hung up the phone before he could do such things.
Rude. Bellamy thought.
Bellamy laid back on the sidewalk, looking up at the stars. It really was dark in this area of Beacon Hills. The stars would never be this visible on a street in New Orleans. The only place the stars could be seen this well was the land the old house was on. The one that Hayley was kept in to keep Marcel none the wiser of the twins' existence.
Bellamy wished he could've seen his family back then. United, fighting for a common cause. Getting along... well... getting along as well as any Mikaelson could. Alive. Able to be in the same damn room without the world nearly ending.
He knew his parents didn't always get along so well. And he wasn't stupid. He'd seen Stefan's journals at the Salvatore School. It wasn't perfect. The Mikaelsons weren't the good guys, but Bellamy didn't care. He didn't need to be the good guy. He just wanted his family.
"There you are," Brett's voice was soft. He gently pulled Bellamy to his feet and stabilized him as he swayed. His thumb wiped a tear from his eye, "C'mon. Let's get you in the car." Brett kept one arm wrapped around the small of Bellamy's back and the other holding his hand. Bellamy nearly tripped over the curb, but Brett was stronger than he seemed.
"You have a nice truck," Bellamy said as he climbed into the truck, "Promise not to puke in it."
"Please don't." Brett let out a chuckle. Brett's laugh was light, breezy even. His smile reached his eyes every time. He was nothing like Bellamy. And that's what made him so damn alluring, yet so scary, "C'mon, let's get you home and into a bed."
"Are you tryna get me in bed, mister?" Bellamy shook his head disapprovingly as he crossed his arms. His lips puckered, "Shame on you for takin' advantage." A soft smile graced Brett's lips as he shut the car door.
"Wait, I can't..." Bellamy took a brief pause as he watched Brett walk to his door, "Stilinski will know if I'm not home."
"And if you go home right now, he'll know where you've been. Something tells me a cop won't appreciate his teenage ward comin' home smelling like he drank a liquor store."
"He ain't gonna know if ya help me get inside," Bellamy slurred out. Brett let out a loud sigh as he turned back around. Bellamy giggled as he jumped out of the truck. Thing was, he forgot he was in a jacked-up truck, and he was a little too inebriated to recover from that jump. Thankfully, Brett was right there and made sure he didn't hit the ground.
"I got you," Brett grunted as he lifted Bellamy bridal-style. Bellamy put his head against Brett's shoulder. He dragged his hand along Brett's bicep. Bellamy pressed his nose into Brett's neck as they walked across the street.
"You're strong," Bellamy hummed. He smirked a little at the increase in Brett's heart and continued tracing his exposed skin. Brett carried him across the street. His heart steadily increased.
"You got a key?"
"It's unlocked," Bellamy got close enough to kiss Brett. Lingered for a moment, glancing at his lips . Once he heard the door unlock, he pulled away and opened the door. Brett bit his lip as he pulled the door behind him. Brett managed to get through the living room quietly, barely making a sound.
The problem came when they got to the door leading to the basement. Footsteps, quiet ones, were heading downstairs. Brett gently placed Bellamy on his feet. Bellamy grabbed him by the waist pulling him close. Their lips were inches away. Heat rose in Bellamy's chest.
"Oh god," Stiles groaned as he relaxed. He'd been ready to swing at them with a bat. Brett tensed as he took a step back and ran a hand through his hair.
"Don't act like you're not up there with Maria every night," Bellamy complained. He hooked his fingers into the belt loop of Brett's jeans, pulling him close. Bellamy's thumbs brushed the bare skin just above the waistline of his jeans. Brett swallowed hard.
"I... It... We... Not... No..." Stiles flushed a deep red, "Good night." Stiles left.
"Wipe that smirk off your face," Brett patted Bellamy's cheek as he opened the door. He hooked an arm around Bellamy's middle. They descended the stairs carefully. Bellamy gripped onto Brett, giggling the whole way down. Brett shushed him, but it did nothing to quiet him. Brett helped Bellamy to his bed, but when he attempted to let go of him Bellamy pulled him down on top of him. Their lips collided. Brett's knee rested between Bellamy's legs. Brett used one hand to support himself while the other hooked around the nape of his neck; his thumb gently brushed Bellamy's cheek. Bellamy immediately returned the kiss, his own hands gliding to Brett's torso and slipping under his shirt.
Bellamy pulled Brett's knee out from under him, flipping them. He used Brett's surprise to his advantage. Bellamy's left hand moved to support himself while his right settled on Brett's hip. He kissed down his neck s he undid Brett's pants. Brett pulled Bellamy's shirt over his head, breaking them apart for only a moment. A smile pulled at Bellamy's lips as Brett pulled him down.
A crash emanated from the second floor. Sadly, this brought Brett back to his senses.
"Hey, we can't do this right now," his hands pressed back on Bellamy's chest, moving him back just enough to look at him, "You're wasted."
"That matters because?" Bellamy whispered into Brett's ear as he began kissing down Bellamy's neck.
"Can't be taken advantage of you, now can I?" Brett pulled away. His smirk was smug as he traced a finger along Bellamy's jaw.
"Oh, yes, you can." Bellamy met his lips once again. Brett rolled them back so that he was straddling Bellamy.
"I have practice in a few hours, Bellamy."
"I can work with a few hours." Bellamy's hands slipped into the waistband of Brett's pants. Brett grabbed his wrists and held them above his head. Bellamy hummed, "Now that's hot."
"I'll take a rain check," Brett said, not moving.
"I'm not looking for a relationship right now, Brett."
"I'm not trying to start one," Brett met him for a brief kiss before he continued down his neck, "I'm saying maybe it wouldn't be so bad to keep meeting up like this." Brett pressed his hips into Bellamy's. Bellamy responded with an eager kiss, but Brett pulled away entirely too soon, "Goodnight, Bel."
"Goodnight, tease." Bellamy groaned.
"You started it," Brett's hand grazed down his chest, slowly, all the way to Bellamy's groin, "And I finished it." Brett got up.
"Actually, the point is, you didn't finish shit." Bellamy slurred.
Bellamy slipped on his boxers. The night before hadn't been his best. He didn't hide the body which meant police would be crawling the scene by now. Thankfully the alley was far enough away that no one should connect his car to the scene for a few more hours. He just needed to get to it before someone did.
He looked down at the tattoo on his wrist and rubbed against it. He tried to blink them away, but the tears still fell. He looked at the Rousseau's tattoo on his side and pulled gently on the skin that held it. His jaw clenched.
His posture faltered. Screams filled his ears. The New Orleans night swarmed him. Memories flashed fast. Blood covered him. Their body was right in front of him. Blood poured from their chest. The wind came fast. Lights exploded. Before he knew it, buildings were falling.
Bellamy's fists turned white as he pressed them into the counter. His eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to push them away. With a small creak on the stairs, Bellamy splashed water on his face and grabbed a towel. He walked into his room to see Noah holding a laundry hamper.
He dropped the basket, spilling clothes all over the floor, and spun around ready to fight, "My god, Bellamy!" He placed his hand on his chest with a gasp, "When did you get in? And where is your car?" His eyes glided down to Bellamy's chest and side. A shirt flew across the room and into Bellamy's hand.
"You don't need to worry about any of that," Bellamy pulled on the shirt, "Enjoying the view?"
Noah's eyes widened, "I... I just didn't realize you had so many..." Noah's eyes glided to the roman numerals on his wrist.
"I have seven... Probably gonna get more..." Bellamy narrowed his eyes. Noah seemed to think about it, "I got a smiley face on my ass when I was 14. Wanna see it?"
"No. No." Noah's eyes widened, "Just... let me know before you leave next time?"
"Sure thing."
"And... don't bring anyone to stay over without asking."
Bellamy licked his lips as he looked at his feet, "This is your house, but you are not my father. I don't have one, so don't try and act like mine." Noah nodded. As he began to leave, Bellamy remembered he may need an alibi, "Oh, and one more thing..."
Bellamy will be getting involved with canon soon, I promise.