Chapter Text
1)
With a push just slightly harder than necessary, Roland had secured the hostage in a hidden cell of the catacombs. He took a breath. Good.
Now.
He turned to the vampire. The drug running through his bloodstream made his muscles itchy with energy. He grabbed a light bomb from his belt--
“Noe! Close your eyes!” The hostage had screamed, voice frantic. Roland’s stomach roiled unpleasantly-- was the hostage concerned for the vampire?
Stockholm syndrome. It had to be some sort of Stockholm Syndrome, some kind of trauma. But he hadn’t looked hurt or restrained, Roland’s instincts nagged.
The vampire staggered in front of him, eyes flickering madly between violet and crimson.
“Noe! Fall back! Don’t try to fight like that!” The hostage yelled behind him. He sounds more hurt now than before, if anything, something tugged at Roland’s mind.
“Huh?!” The vampire shouted back, even as his voice shook from the effects of the light screen. “There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you here!”
Roland was used to hearing anger in the voice of vampires, whether it be in the form of a guttural growl or a broken scream. But this vampire was different.
“You’re in no shape to be worrying about me! It was your fault for not listening to me!”
“Every time you open your mouth, it’s impossible to follow!” The vampire complained, frustrated. “It’s always the same old story with you, Vanitas!”
Roland stared in silence. They were… bickering? Roland had never seen a verbal vampire, much less one this… human. The frustration seemed familiar to the two, almost as if they fought uselessly like this every day.
“Wait.” Roland finally spoke. “You said… Vanitas?”
For now, he swallowed down the thoughts of uncertainty and nobly went to save the poor lamb.
…
The light of the torches reflected off of Durandal’s blades as Roland swung them at the evil vampire. Even incapacitated, the vampire dodged quickly and defended himself well. ( He isn’t striking to kill, his instincts nagged.)
Every time Durandal got close enough to graze, Roland heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him. Nastier hits even pulled a guttural “Noe!” from Vanitas’ throat.
“Big city vampires don’t listen, and neither do you humans!”
He couldn’t understand for the life of him why Vanitas was so concerned for this monster.
Durandal clanged as it wrapped around the candelabra the monster had grabbed to block his attack. Finally. A surge of satisfaction rippled through Roland as he pressed the pad of his thumb into Durandal.
The vampire screamed, and, had Roland not been listening for it, he would’ve missed the panicked hiss of breath coming from Vanitas in response. Still, he ignored it, raising Durandal to deal the finishing blow to the disabled, burned monster, hardly able to defend itself.
This was the end.
Vanitas jumped in front of the vampire, arms outstretched and desperate--
“What?!” Roland yelled.
He changed the course of Durandal just in time--
They didn’t waste the opening Roland left, the vampire immediately reaching over Vanitas to grab his sash and throw him into the stone pillar.
He protected him. He protected him with his life. Vanitas was willing to die for a vampire. The thoughts circled him as he laid against the crushed stone pillar, summarizing the incident to his subordinates.
…
1.5)
“They were perfectly synchronized, sir,” One of the incapacitated guards explained, bruised but not seriously wounded. “I blinked, and suddenly, every man was down. And just when you think you’ve caught sight of one of them, the other takes you by the throat.”
Roland stared.
“They’re a formidable pair, sir. Be careful.”
A pair. Partners. The bickering, the panic-- Vanitas was willing to die to protect him, and the vampire chose to stay and fight a losing battle over leaving him behind--
Pieces were beginning to click in Roland’s head.
…
2)
“... what exactly were you trying to do back there?!” Roland could hear the angry voice of the vampire from beyond the catacomb walls. Roland ran faster. He knew it. He knew he was evil, and now Vanitas might--
“ I’m asking you why you tried to protect me!”
Roland slowed. He shouldn’t eavesdrop-- this was a dangerous situation-- he needed to rescue--
“‘Cause I knew that guy wouldn’t kill me. What’s wrong with that?” Vanitas replied nonchalantly.
“Everything!”
Roland froze in his tracks.
“I’ve thought this before, but… Vanitas… you’re far too careless about putting yourself in harm’s way!”
“Huh?”
“You’re human. Unlike vampires, one false step and you’re dead. Just like that.” The vampire seemed genuinely upset. Roland didn’t know what to do with that. “ Please be aware that you’re weak! ”
“Why, you… I don’t want to hear that line from you, of all people!”
“Huh?!”
“ You’re the kind of idiot who’ll put too much faith in your power, charge ahead without thinking, and destroy yourself!”
There was real frustration in their voices, real anger, real concern. Partners, Roland kept thinking.
“What are you talking about?”
“ I’m talking about when you got between me and Ruthven! That was extremely irritating! Next time you do that, I’ll turn you to ashes myself!”
There was a pause in the conversation, likely as the vampire was processing whatever Vanitas just said. Roland finally got his wits back in the silence and continued his hunt.
Finally, the vampire replied.
“You’re so fucking finicky …! And stop making that face--”
“I was born with this face, motherfucker!”
Roland bit down on a snort.
…
The vampire-- Noe. He said his name was Noe. He’d introduced himself politely (as politely as he could after impressively knocking Roland to the ground), and Vanitas had explained the situation, misinterpreting Roland’s shock as resistance.-- Noe jogged forward to catch up to Vanitas.
“Vanitas… Vanitas!”
Noe clearly meant for his words to only reach Vanitas’ ears, but every chasseur heard him.
“How long are you going to keep sulking like that?” He asked softly.
“I’m not sulking,” Vanitas replied, sulking.
“It’s safer to have Roland and the others with us, you know.”
“I want nothing to do with that man!”
Roland laughed, loud and hearty. “You two really do get along well, don’t you?”
“We do not!” They shouted in unison.
Partners. Roland smiled.
“Do you really understand, Noe?” Vanitas hissed. “This lot was trying to kill you a minute ago. They might just be pretending to cooperate, waiting for the right moment to capture us.”
Even as his subordinate spat back at Vanitas, Roland couldn’t bring himself to be offended.
They only get upset in each other’s stead.
…
His conclusion was reaffirmed tenfold as he watched Noe slam Doctor Moreau into the table.
“Thanks for doing that, Noe!” Roland smiled. “If you hadn’t moved, I’d have killed him myself!”
It’s a half-lie.
In truth, the only reason he hadn’t moved to kill the psychopath was because he saw Noe across from him, boiling with clumsily-suppressed rage. And when Moreau made to reach for Vanitas’ face, Roland knew it was game over.
After all, lovers tended to get possessive over that sort of thing.
…
Roland watched them dissolve into laughter after the dust settled.
They’d looked at each other, human to vampire and vampire to human, crimson meeting electric blue, and they’d burst into joyful peals.
It was the kind of uncontrollable laughter of the bourreaus and chasseaus when they’d went back, knowing they’d survived the war and they were safe, they were home.
It didn’t take a genius to look at Vanitas and Noe and recognize that the two, no matter how unlikely or strange their partnership was, had found something precious, something safe, had found home in each other.
Roland was happy to let them go.
He wondered wistfully if they would meet again.
…
3)
He saw them again only two weeks later.
Some bigshot Parisian artist with far too much money and free time (in Roland’s humble opinion) had actually managed to hire a chasseau as an (unnecessary) bodyguard for his art exhibit.
For hours, Roland had worn a mask and a uniform that matched the themes of the painting, smiling for pictures and standing guard. Physically, the job was nothing. Mentally, it was exhausting.
He was bored. Staring at the same five paintings got old quite quickly, and he envied his coworkers and subordinates who got to go on an actual mission. He wanted to move, he wanted to fight, wanted to unsheath Durandal from his back, not dress it up in garish colors as an accessory piece.
Internally, he heaved a great sigh.
“Vanitas!”
Roland perked up instantly. Impossible. Roland had thought they’d gone to the next big mission, constantly working, constantly moving. Could it really be?
“Vanitas! Come on! It’s a special exhibition, just for this weekend! Let’s go see it!” Noe chattered excitedly, stars in his violet eyes as he grabbed Vanitas’ wrist.
Roland no longer needed to fake his smile.
“Noe, do you even know this artist?” Vanitas asked, his face a mask of faux-annoyance. “And this was just supposed to be a grocery run! How did you wander off again?!”
Noe stared back, face stoic. He hummed in consideration before wrapping his hand around Vanitas’ wrist.
“I won’t get lost if I do this, right?” Noe beamed, and his joy was infectious. Roland fought a snicker at Vanitas’ pink cheeks.
“No, you idiot! We’ve tried this before, remember?” Vanitas was trying and failing to look cross. “You just ended up dragging me all over Paris!”
“That was fun,” Noe countered. “We don’t have anything else to do today. Why can’t we explore a little bit?”
Noe was beginning to look slightly cross. Roland watched a flurry of emotions flicker across Vanitas’ face, beginning with frustration and ending with acceptance.
Vanitas sighed dramatically.
Noe seemed to recognize it for the answer it was and lit up immediately, eyes turning starry again.
“Hey! What’s that over there?” Noe ran towards the painting, excited. Vanitas struggled to keep up, tripping as he was unceremoniously dragged across the room. He was unable to string together a full sentence, only bitten off syllables of “Noe--” and “Slow down--” and “wait--” able to escape him at once.
By the time they’d arrived in front of the art, Vanitas was panting. Noe was vocal in his enchantment, sounds of “ooh” and “ahh” leaving his lips as he opened his arms in front of the painting, taking it all in.
“It’s gorgeous! Isn’t it, Vanitas?”
“Yeah, yeah. Keep it down. You’re loud.” Roland could hear an unmistakable fondness in Vanitas’ voice.
“Yeah, you moron. You’re making it hard to enjoy the art. Leave or shut up.” A passing onlooker sneered at them. Vanitas turned to glare at him immediately, and the man dropped his voice to a mutter instead. “Fuckin’ gays. Ruining everything for everyone. Disgusting.”
Noe wilted at the comment, looking guilty as he took a careful step away from the painting. Vanitas glanced towards Noe and only got angrier.
Oh, you’ve done it now. Roland could almost hear the sound of Vanitas’ teeth grinding together.
“What pigeon shat in your cereal today, you old coot?” Vanitas snarled. His eyes bordered on bloodlust.
“I don’t eat cereal.” The man cut back. “I’m an artist.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Vanitas’ mouth twisted into a superficially polite smile. “What part of your lonely,” Vanitas took a step towards him, “pathetic,” another step, “sniveling,” step, “sludge--” step, “--did you not enjoy this morning,” Vanitas wrapped a threatening gloved hand around the knot of his tie, “ sir?”
Roland should’ve been breaking it up-- that’s what he was hired to do. But who could blame a bodyguard for missing a minor transgression or two? He was only human.
The man turned paper-white, scrabbling to rip Vanitas’ hands from his tie before he hurried out of the exhibit.
Vanitas stared at the knot of cloth in his hands, now messily ripped from the rest of the man’s tie, and tossed it in the trash.
“Vanitas, that was a little mean.” Noe walked up next to him.
“He wasn’t nice either.”
Noe shrugged it off. “Still. I feel like we could have reasoned with him.”
“You believe in people a little too much.”
“Can we go to the building across from here?” Noe asked, the starry gleam slowly returning to his eyes.
“You’re such a pain,” Vanitas complained as he followed Noe out the door.
Roland’s shift ended, and the museum promised never to hire such a useless bodyguard again.
All’s well that ends well. Roland’s just happy he could run into the couple that shook his worldview one last time.
…
It was, in fact, not one last time.
…
3.5)
Roland ran into them occasionally on his patrols. They were always bickering about something or other, though it was always inconsequential. (He’d caught them arguing about the differences between frozen yogurt and soft-serve ice cream once, with Noe insisting they were different and Vanitas taking the stance of “why give a fuck, who gives a fuck, why should I give a fuck”)
…
The only exception--
He’d seen them sitting on the roof once on an early morning patrol. They didn’t speak to each other then, both of them watching the sunrise with tired eyes and silent companionship.
...
He’d find them anywhere, from cute cafes to tourist attractions to street food stands.
And it’d always be a them.
If Noe was spotted alone, Vanitas wasn’t far behind, often sprinting to catch up to him with a lecture prepared about “fucking wandering around all the time-- are you a child?”
If Vanitas was spotted alone, Noe was always waiting just around the corner with a book in his hand, waiting for Vanitas to startle whenever he spotted him before groaning and letting Noe tag along wherever he was going anyway.
(Vanitas always looked… sad, wistful almost, whenever Noe wasn’t by his side, overwhelming the sadness with incessant frustration or pure excitement.)
Roland was glad they had each other. He was glad they were in love.