college AU: luke is convinced that the guy he's doing his course project with is a vampire, and he's going to prove it. michael just wants to get through the semester.
warnings: NO SMUT. college AU. fluff. comedy/humour. bad jokes. mentions of supernatural (vampire) elements, but nothing graphic. profanity. getting together. everybody is a little ooc. not proofread.
wc: 8.5k
author's note: this was meant to be a silly 2k fic but then it turned into this. sorry about all my bad jokes and how EXTREMELY ooc everyone is. also suspend ur disbelief at luke's private-dorm-that's-kindof-an-apartment
come find me on twitter!
“So, this guy Michael…”
Luke’s got the tip of his pen between his teeth while he looks across the campus courtyard at the man in question. Michael strums an acoustic under the shade of a tree, all aesthetic and cool and untouchable with the way the breeze catches his dyed hair. Luke’s been paired up with him for his anthropology project, which would be fine, except.
Ashton, sitting on the wooden picnic table across from Luke, looks up from his notes. Calum stops sipping obnoxiously at his disgustingly sweet iced coffee. They follow the line of Luke’s vision to Michael.
“Oh, Michael,” Ashton says. “He’s a good lad.”
“Hm,” Calum says. “Gay.”
Ashton thwacks him in the back of the head with a rolled-up assignment. Calum snickers into his drink.
“Yeah, anyway, so. Michael,” Luke squints at the man on the lawn suspiciously. “He’s definitely a vampire, right?”
Calum and Ashton share a look.
“A vampire,” Ashton repeats.
“Yeah.”
“Right,” Ashton nods, like he completely gets it. Then, “And I’m the Queen of England.”
“Listen,” Luke hisses. “He’s so fucking pale, mate. Have you ever met an Australian that’s whiter than white?”
“You’re whiter than white,” Calum says. He’s gone back to sucking at his straw. The cup is empty. Luke’s going to throw something at him if that irritating slurping doesn’t stop soon.
“Thats not the point.”
“What is?” Calum continues. “Do you sleep with a night light too? Need a cup of milk before bed?”
“I’m kicking you out of the friendgroup.”
Calum shrugs. “Ashton agrees with me. Don’t you, Ash?”
“Luke,” Ashton starts, and he’s making a face like he’s constipated. “Vampires aren’t real.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, well. Burden of proof.”
“I’m gonna drop your textbook on your face while you sleep,” Luke tells him. He only half means it. Kind of.
Thing is, Ashton’s right. And that sucks, because Ashton’s always right. He does need to prove it, because otherwise Calum and Ashton will be on his ass about that one time you thought a random classmate was an undead bloodsucking ghoul.
He spares a glance at Michael again and watches him shrink away from the sunlight, plastering himself further against the tree trunk.
“Look at him,” Luke insists. “He’s transparent. He’s literally white as a ghost—”
“Oh, you believe in those too?” Calum snarks. Luke ignores him.
“He’s a vampire. I’m telling you.”
“And I’m a fairy! I’ve got a wand in my pants too. Wanna see?”
Luke makes a face. “Keep your disgusting penis away from me.”
“Not what your mom said last night,” Calum leans back on his hands.
“Quickly, how much do you like your front teeth?”
“Why, wanna lick ‘em?”
“Calum,” Ashton pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t be a dick.”
“I’m just saying!” Calum throws his hands up. The plastic cup goes flying from his grip and lands in the lap of some poor freshman, who looks up at the sky like this was her last straw. “If you want to make crazy claims, you gotta commit to it!” Calum continues.
Luke folds his arms. “Fine. I’ll just—I’ll prove it.”
“Prove…that Michael is a vampire?” Ashton tilts his head. He somewhat resembles a confused puppy. Luke would kick that puppy, in all honesty.
“Yes,” Luke slams his laptop shut and stands up, staring into the distance with what he hopes is heroic determination in his eyes. “And then you’ll have to eat your words.”
Ashton drops his head into his hands. Calum grins. “Alright,” he says, and there’s something malicious in his eyes. “Be my guest.”
Luke flips him off, stepping over the bench of the table. He shoves his laptop into his bag and walks off without a word. He tries not to look back at Michael, because he knows his asshole friends are watching him go.
“Ten bucks says he just wants to date the guy,” Calum stage-whispers, turning to Ashton.
Ashton groans, exasperated. Then puts his hand in Calum’s outstretched one. “You’re on.”
—
Admittedly, Luke doesn’t actually know a whole lot about Michael. Like, sure, they’re in the same class, but that's frankly the only course they share, and Luke didn’t even see him more than a few sightings around campus before this semester. And now they’ve got this project together.
Luke’s in his 9 a.m. Anthropology class, zoned out despite being only fifteen minutes into the lecture. Who keeps a class this early on a Monday? The ugly white lights are too bright, and the sunlight streaks in awkwardly through the tangled blinds. Most of the lecture hall is empty, and those who did show up are either hunched over recovering from hangovers, or dead asleep.
Luke himself is somewhere in the middle ground. Laptop open before him, he scrolls up and down idly on a google search result for ‘Vampire Characteristics,’ not really registering anything he’s reading. And what the fuck does preternatural pallor even fucking mean, anyway? Just say ‘pale skin’. Jeez.
The door slams open—loud enough for the entire class to jump, started.
A low hum of discontented murmuring spreads over the room. Luke looks over at the door for the source of the sound, and spots a hunched-over Michael Clifford, hands resting on his knees as he heaves for air. Like he’s just run across the campus.
“S-sorry I’m late,” he gasps.
The professor crosses her arms and frowns disapprovingly, saying something to him that Luke couldn't be bothered paying attention to, because the sunlight catches Michael’s hair as he stands up, and the red makes it look like it’s on fire.
Michael stands in the doorway, looking bashful, rubbing the back of his neck until the professor is done chastising him. Then, he speaks.
“So…can I come in?”
He’s shooed into the room, and he finds his seat somewhere closer to the front, and his head is kind of blocking Luke’s view of the board, but that’s not what gets to him.
No, what gets to him are Michael’s words. Can I come in?
Vampires can’t enter a room themselves, right? They need to be invited in. Right?
Luke’s so ecstatic at finding his first bit of evidence, so determined to rub it in Calum and Ashton’s faces, that when he reaches for his phone to shoot a text on their groupchat, his grip stutters and the thing lands on the floor by his feet with a loud clatter.
The class turns to look. Including Michael. Luke’s face flares at the attention, even as he murmurs a subdued “sorry…”
But Luke’s gaze flits to Michael, who’s smiling to himself. Oh.
—
Luke’s got a plan. As the class draws to a close, his knee bounces anxiously, because he needs to do this just right. No room for fucking up.
Faintly, somewhere in the hallway outside, a tinny bell rings, and there’s a massive scuffle as everyone stuffs their shit into their carry bags and rushes to get out of the worst lecture on the planet. Luke waits until Michael stands, dusting off his jeans and slinging his leather haversack over his shoulder. Luke shoots up from his seat and rushes to follow, phone in his hand.
See, Vampires don’t have reflections. So if Luke can just…see for himself that Michael doesn’t reflect on mirror surfaces, that’d be proof enough. But he can’t really shove a mirror in the guy’s face. That’s weird.
So instead his phone front camera will have to do.
“Michael!” Luke calls out. The man in question stops and turns, eyes falling on Luke.
“Hey, man,” he replies.
Luke waves his phone. “We’ve got that project together, right?” he says. “Wanna give me your number?”
Michael’s lashes flutter. Not that Luke’s looking! Just that he’s got surprisingly pretty eyes and—anyway.
“Um,” Michael says. “Yeah, sure.”
Luke hands his phone over to Michael, front camera open. He rises on his tip-toes to look as Michael takes the thing, but Michael immediately turns the phone to the side when he notices the screen.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, shutting the app. His cheeks are dusted pink. Is that natural? Do vampires blush? “Your camera was on.”
“Oh,” Luke says. Tries to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He didn’t even get to see.
Michael brushes him off and types in his number. He hands the phone back to Luke.
“I texted myself, so I’ve got your number now,” Michael tells him.
“Cool,” Luke says, and it’s a little awkward. He fiddles with his phone. “I’ll…um—I’ll text you? We can meet up and work on it together?”
Michael shoots him a friendly smile. “Sounds good,” he says. “See you around, Luke.”
He turns and descends the stairway, never really looking back—which is good because Luke’s stuck in place, playing the way Michael had said his name on loop in his head.
—
Luke texts Michael the address for his dorm. He figures he should test the theory a bit more. What’s the harm?
Michael knocks at his door a bit hesitantly, just past six in the evening. He’s on time, which makes sense because the sun has started to dip, so he probably didn’t have to scramble for shade on the way over. Unlike with class that morning, when the sunlight had been bright and fresh.
Luke opens the door, leaning all six-foot-three-inches of himself against the doorframe. He tries for casual, but his mother had always called him an elongated spindly deer, so. Do with that what you will.
“Hi,” Luke says, smiling a little awkwardly.
“You come here often?” Michael jokes, taking in the way Luke’s standing.
“All the time,” Luke replies. “I practically live here.”
Michael chuckles, shaking his head like he can’t believe Luke’s antics. It sends something warm swelling in Luke’s chest. A silence settles between them. Luke doesn’t move out of the way, because he can’t invite Michael in—Michael needs to ask.
Michael shifts on his feet. “So, um…can I come in, or?”
“Can you?”
Michael blinks. “Can I?”
“You can, but can you?”
“What?”
“What?”
“Luke,” Michael stresses, and Luke’s breath hitches. “Can I please come in?”
Luke blinks. God, it’s just—it’s the way he says Luke’s name. Something twists in Luke’s stomach, and he stands upright, making way for Michael to step in. As he does, he shoots Luke an odd look.
Whatever, Luke thinks. I’ll get him next time.
Michael heads to drop his bag on Luke’s desk, and all of a sudden Luke’s aware that he’s very alone, without having informed anyone else, in a room with a vampire.
Michael gets to work setting up his study material. Luke reaches for his phone and types a quick text in his groupchat with Calum and Ashton.
Luke
i invited Michael over to study
if i disappear you have permission to press charges
Calum
gay
Ashton
In your dorm?
Luke
yeah
Calum
why in your dorm
Ashton
Are you alone in your dorm with Michael right now
Calum
luke are u alone with michael
luke
LUKE
—
The study session goes fine. Just fine. They end up going through the entire outline of their project and divide the work among themselves. Luke also learns that he has a lot in common with Michael. They both play guitar, and plan to get into music later on. They end up losing track of time talking about all their favourite bands. Conversation is comfortable, like they’ve been friends for years.
And Michael doesn’t try to bite Luke once. A fact that Luke is completely okay with. And not disappointed at all. Not that he has any reason to be. Disappointed, that is.
Calum and Ashton are extremely smug about all this information when Luke tells them about his study date with Michael—
“Study date, huh?” Calum smirks. Ashton snorts into his hand.
“Yes,” Luke frowns. “Like—two people. Studying. On a date on the calendar. A study date.”
“I’m gonna start a rumour,” Ashton says decisively. Luke kicks him in the shin. He hunches over in pain immediately.
“Fuck you guys,” Luke says, walking backwards and away because he’s going to be late for class. “You’re both useless. I’m selling Calum’s bass.”
He doesn’t stay long enough to hear Calum’s squeaked ‘hey, what the hell!’ before he’s turning and jogging towards the Sociology Department block.
When he gets to class, Michael’s already there, settled into one of the rows further behind. He catches Luke’s eye and immediately lights up in a smile, so Luke takes that as an invitation to go over and sit beside him.
Michael’s got one leg folded over the other, his laptop propped open in his lap and a travel mug of coffee set on the writing tablet desk. Condensation drips from it.
Luke basically ran to class in the middle of summer, so he can’t really be blamed for what he says next.
“Hey,” Luke pants, because he hates cardio so he’s still catching his breath from his sprint. “Mind if I have a sip of your drink?”
Michael looks between Luke and his cup. He makes a face like he’s in pain.
“Uh,” Michael says. “I don’t…think you’d like it much.”
Luke gulps. The cup sits ominously on the desk between them.
Oh.
Oh.
He’s got blood in there, hasn’t he?
Luke tries not to make a face. His hands itch to snatch the thing up and screw open the lid to confirm his conclusion. It sends a shiver down his spine—sitting next to a vampire that casually brings cupfulls of blood to class as a little snack. No matter how cute the vampire may be.
Wait, what?
“Sorry, mate,” Michael says, and he sounds genuinely apologetic, and Luke’s train of thought is derailed.
“‘S alright,” Luke tells him on autopilot. And really, isn’t this a small kindness? Michael saved Luke from drinking blood. Or something like that. He even apologized. So doesn’t that make Michael a pretty cool vampire?
Luke’s prepared to mull over his reasoning, but then the professor walks in, and he’s distracted when Michael’s knee nudges his own as he leans over to grab a notebook from his bag, and that’s that.
—
Friday finds Luke, Calum, and Ashton occupying one of the many tables in the library hall. There’s a pretty pile of books stacked up beside Luke’s laptop, but he’s too busy squinting over the edge of his screen, through the space between Calum and Ashton’s heads, towards Michael.
Michael’s seated two tables away, and Luke’s got a pretty clear view of the guy as he rolls up his sleeves—those tattoos, good lord—and throws his head back in silent laughter at something his friend says to him. Luke’s eyes zero in on his teeth.
More aptly, his fangs. His incisors are sharp. Sharper still than anything Luke’s ever seen before. That’s clear proof, right? And maybe they’re even longer, maybe they’re retracted into his gums, so when he feeds they drop down and—
“Hello? Earth to Luke Hemmings?” Ashton waves a hand in front of Luke’s face and he snaps out of his daydream rumination of Michael’s vampire activities.
Calum follows the direction of Luke’s gaze before he can snap his eyes away from Michael. When Calum spots the guy, his face spreads into the biggest shit-eating grin.
“Like what you see?” he waggles his eyebrows at Luke. Luke goes to kick him under the table, but misses terribly. His toe slams against the leg of the table. He grunts in pain. The kids from the table adjacent to them shoot him a dirty look.
“Sh-shut the fuck up,” Luke tells Calum. “I’m…observing.”
“Yeah? Draw any bloodsucker conclusions yet?” Ashton arches a brow.
“Or sucking of any other kind,” Calum pipes in.
“Calum,” Luke shoots him a pointed look, because the table over seems suddenly super invested in their conversation. “I’m gathering evidence. Like, look at his teeth.”
Both Calum and Ashton go to turn around, being extremely conspicuous about it, so Luke has to rush to hiss, “Not now!”
Luke leans in, and as do the others, so now they’re gathered like they’re sharing some kind of secret. Which is technically true. The students on the table over have given up pretending they’re studying and are now straining to listen in.
“Yeah,” Ashton nods. “Teeth tend to be that way.”
“Not his teeth,” Luke shakes his head. “They’re fangs. They’re for drinking blood.”
“Think about his teeth a lot, do you, Hemmings?” Calum smirks.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Calum only rolls his eyes. He nudges Ashton, who sighs and runs a hand through his hair.
“Luke, do you want to maybe think about why you’re—”
“Mate, he was drinking blood.”
Calum blinks. “What?”
“I saw it,” Luke says. “I mean, I didn’t see it, but he had this tumbler full of something and when I asked for a sip he said I wouldn’t like what he was drinking. So, obviously, it was blood, right?”
Ashton looks at Luke like Luke’s hit his head on something. “Why was your first thought blood and not, like, vodka or something?”
“Who drinks vodka at a 10 a.m. class?”
At that, Calum slides his water bottle off the table and into his bag. The liquid sloshes, and Luke now notices how it moves like it’s thicker than water. Oh, okay.
Calum clears his throat. “Um, I wouldn’t know.”
“Hey, can I have a sip?” Ashton nudges his shoulder.
Luke shakes his head, trying to draw back to the very pressing issue at hand. “It doesn’t worry you guys that we’re classmates with a vampire?”
“Why would it?” Calum says, passing his vodka-water-bottle to Ashton, who uncaps it and sniffs. “Considering vampires aren’t real.”
“Calum, you’re my worst friend,” Luke tells him.
“I love you, too.”
“Okay, well,” Luke says, and he’s kind of jealous now that Ashton gets a sip and he doesn’t. “He also asked for permission before coming—”
“Oh, he did?”
“—coming into my room.” Luke glares at Calum, who looks far too smug for a guy that’s about to permanently lose a mate. “And he’s so pale. He’s so—”
“Who’s pale?” The question comes directly into Luke’s ear, and Luke does not shriek like a teenager. His brain goes offline for a moment as he jumps, whipping around so fast that his neck cracks.
Michael stands over him. He’s got his bag slung over his shoulder again. He looks past Luke and waves at Calum and Ashton. “Hey, guys. What are we talking about?”
“Luke’s new set of kinks,” Calum offers, and this time when Luke kicks him under the table, he nails him right in the knee. He yelps in pain.
Michael blinks. “Okay.”
“He’s kidding,” Luke says, even as his cheeks flare a hot red.
“Wait, don’t tell me,” Michael says. “You’re into feet.”
Luke splutters. “I’m…no, wh—”
Ashton’s laughing, open mouthed and loud, and they’re drawing the attention of the entire library now. Michael’s eyes light up.
“Chill, Blondie,” he grins, and the hot embarrassment in his stomach melts into something fluttery and urgent as Luke watches Michael’s lips part in a smile. “I wanted to let you know I’m nearly done with my part of the project. I’ll send it over later tonight?”
Luke can’t do much more than nod, biting his lip to keep from saying something stupid, like ‘hey, if you need any spare blood sometime—’ but then Michael’s tipping an imaginary hat in their direction, and slipping out of the library.
Ashton and Calum look overjoyed when Luke turns back to face them. Calum’s heaving giggles into his hand, and Luke hopes he chokes on his own laughter and dies.
“So, feet, huh?” Ashton’s voice is high-pitched with mirth.
“I’m gonna switch out your shampoo for hair-dye,” Luke says. See if he finds it funny then.
“He’s gonna—he’s gonna text you tonight,” Calum sniggers.
“Shut up,” Luke says, and he slips further down in his seat and shoves his earphones into his ears.
How the fuck did Michael sneak up on him like that? And did he hear any of their conversation? Oh, god. Vampires have superhuman hearing, don’t they? And…they’re really fast, and light on their feet.
That must’ve been what happened. He must’ve used his powers to take Luke by surprise. Lower his defenses. Like hunting prey. Does he use these tactics when he’s out looking for someone to feed on? He’s got long limbs—like, just look at those legs. It must be so easy.
And if—if the warmth of his voice, the whisper of his breath as he spoke dangerously close to Luke’s ear—if any of that lingers for longer than it should then…that’s just what vampires do, right? They have an allure. A dangerous pull.
Luke can’t be blamed for being drawn in.
—
It’s 3:08 a.m. when Luke gets Michael’s text. He’s distinctly aware that it’s the Witching Hour.
Michael
hey i finished my work
Luke
why are you awake??
Michael
why are you awake
Luke
i asked first
Michael
i’m jerking off
Luke flushes violently at that one. He knows Michael’s joking but still. A vague image flashes through his head and he has to blink hard to get it out. Michael’s just so—vulgar. Luke tugs his blanket up to his chin, cheeks burning.
Luke
oh okay
Michael
kidding
u get riled up so easily
its cute
Luke
i’m adorable
Michael
hm
will email u my work tmr morn
gonna head out to blood bank rn
Blood bank?
What the fuck.
‘Blood bank’ as in the place where bags of blood are stored? Does this count as Michael coming out to Luke? Wait, is it still called ‘coming out’ if you’re revealing yourself to be a vampire?
Luke
you aren’t going to sleep??
also, blood bank? what are you, a vampire?
Michael
tryna ask if i bite?
wouldn’t u like to know ;)
Luke
Michael.
Michael
ok jeez
it’s an overnight cafe
Oh. Okay, that makes sense.
And then Luke has a strong urge to facepalm, because why would a vampire go to a bloodbank? It's not like you can walk into a dispensary and say, ‘hey, can I get a bag of blood?’
Luke’s eyes are falling shut already. He’s dozing off over his phone screen. Enough studying for today, he thinks. He shuts his laptop and slips further into his sheets. His vision kind of goes blurry around the edges, and his eyes are burning so bad that even though he fights to stay awake, his phone ultimately slips out of his grip.
He doesn’t stay awake long enough to see Michael’s next text come through.
Michael
come with me sometime?
By the time Luke wakes up the next morning and checks his phone, the message is gone.
Michael
[This message was deleted by the sender.]
—
Luke has had a revelation. An epiphany, even. A pioneering idea.
He digs through his closet for his lowest cut shirt. He’s talking like white V-neck, dipping down to the middle of his chest, falling over his shoulders like he’s trying to bring attention to his neck—which he is. Luke has pretty wide shoulders, so the shirt only serves to highlight his width. As he stands in the mirror, he takes note of how the fabric stretches over his chest, draws the eye up from his chest, up along his collarbones, up, up, up the line of his neck.
It’s perfect.
“Woah,” Calum says, as Luke meets them in the main block foyer that morning. “No bra today?”
Luke frowns. Ashton tilts his head.
“Why are you dressed like a slut?” he asks.
Luke looks down at his shirt. Frankly, he didn’t really think of how he would look to anyone else. He wore it for Michael.
Wait, like. Not for Michael, but more like…bait. To get Michael to look at Luke’s neck. If he can catch the man leering over Luke basically inviting him to bite, that’s as good as evidence could possibly ever get. Luke’s a genius.
When he explains all this to Ashton and Calum, they share a pointed look.
“You’re a whore,” Calum tells him seriously.
“I’m a strategic mastermind,” Luke corrects.
“I can basically see your nipples through the shirt, mate,” Ashton says.
Luke strikes a shitty pose. “Do they look good?”
Ashton makes a gagging sound, and Luke will decidedly take that as a compliment, thank you very much.
Then he catches a flash of dyed hair somewhere behind Ashton, and looks to see Michael crossing the foyer, in conversation with a friend. Without thinking, Luke calls out to him. Ashton and Calum turn to look just as Michael locks eyes with Luke.
“Michael!” Luke smiles at him, straightening his back.
Michael raises his hand to wave, eyes flitting between him, Ashton and Calum.
Luke watches with nothing short of glee as he then freezes in place, gaze travelling down the length of Luke’s frame, then up, snagging at the dip of his shirt. Even from a few metres away, Luke can see his eyes widen as they go straight to Luke’s chest, across his shoulders, then painfully slow up the line of his neck.
He gulps audibly, cheeks flaring an almost concerning shade of red. Luke’s grin grows. Gotcha.
“Um, I—” Michael squeaks, face beet red. He meets Luke’s delighted expression, then immediately struggles to make eye-contact whatsoever, eyes flitting everywhere but towards Luke. “I—uh! I have to…be somewhere! Nice t-to see you guys. Bye!”
He curls into himself, looking straight down at his shoes as he briskly walks out of the foyer, leaving his friend behind to splutter confusedly as he looks between Luke’s friendgroup and Michael’s retreating back.
Luke looks pointedly at Ashton and Calum as they snicker into their hands. “See?”
Ashton sighs, bemused. “You’re so fuckin’ stupid.”
Luke blinks. “I think you mean intellectually gifted.”
“No,” Calum shakes his head, still chuckling. “You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”
“Weren’t you guys looking?” Luke pouts. “He basically just went full vampire in the middle of the hall.”
“And you’re sure there’s no other reason why he’d turn red at the sight of you today?” Ashton prompts, raising an eyebrow in indication of Luke’s attire.
Luke adjusts the hem of his shirt. “Well, yeah,” he says. “Why else would he?”
Calum rubs the hells of his palms in his eyes, groaning. “Luke.”
“What?”
Ashton slaps his palm to Calum’s shoulder, pressing his thumbs into the muscle there to massage the tension out. He begins guiding Calum away towards the stairwell to their morning class, leaving Luke standing there, confused and mildly annoyed.
“Just,” Ashton starts, tone sympathetic. Or condescending. Luke can’t really tell. “Just think about why he reacted that way for a bit, okay?”
That’s stupid, Luke thinks. I know why he reacted that way. It’s because he’s a vampire.
No other reason. Obviously.
Right?
—
Luke thinks that the problem really just lies in how he hasn’t properly presented his evidence to Calum and Ashton. Also that they just don’t seem to believe him, so he needs tangible proof. Something that he can point out to Calum and Ashton, something so undoubtable, so obviously evidence of vampiric ghoulishness that it has absolutely no plausible deniability.
Like sunburns.
Sure, Luke feels bad for plotting something that will see Michael in pain. But then he thinks about all those poor souls that Michael’s probably fed on, and tries not to think about how nice Michael is and how much Luke actually likes him—and then it’s a whole flurry of emotions that Luke can’t quite contextualize.
In retrospect, tangible proof could also just be something like Luke offering himself up for Michael to bite. To sink his teeth into his flesh. To drink from him, fully and sweetly. To mark Luke’s skin, leave a scar.
But that makes Luke's belly flutter in a strange way, so he’s going to file that thought for later and maybe never think about it again!
His plan is simple.
Michael always dresses in long sleeved flannels and sweaters, which is obviously to protect his skin from the sun. In fact, Michael barely shows any skin, ever. So Luke would just have to force it out of him.
They’re walking across the campus lawn, partly under the shade of the trees lining the path. The sunlight slips through the spaces between the tree branches, pools of gold dancing on the grass as the leaves shift with the breeze. Michael’s talking about the structure of the conclusion for their project, but Luke’s barely listening, because he’s looking at Michael’s exposed hands and wondering if the sunlight makes his skin itch.
“Michael,” Luke says suddenly, curling into himself and rubbing at his arms like he’s trying to warm himself up. “It’s cold.”
It’s not cold at all. It’s actually blazing hot, and Luke’s sweat is nearly soaking the back of his shirt. Michael knows this too. He looks around, eyes flitting across the grounds, where multiple groups of students fan themselves as they walk.
“What?”
“It’s cold,” Luke repeats, feigning a shiver for effect.
“Um,” Michael looks confused. “Are you feeling sick?”
“No,” Luke pouts. He rubs at his skin further. His fingers slip over the sweat at the crease of his elbow. “I’m just—I’m cold.”
Michael’s stature grows awkward as he walks beside Luke, who exhales harshly like he’s absolutely freezing, visualizing a cloud of his breath before him as though it's winter.
Luke sighs, and he hopes he doesn’t sound too dramatic. “I wish I had a sweater or something.”
Michael stiffens.
Luke watches from his peripheral vision, smiling to himself as Michael looks down at his own cream sweater, biting his lip. All according to plan.
Michael’s hand comes up to rub bashfully at his neck. “I would—” he offers. “Um, I would give you mine but I’m not really…wearing anything under it.”
Luke has a brief image of Michael taking his sweater off, revealing the smooth, pale skin of his chest.
His brain flashes an error message. Information processing interrupted. All systems offline.
“Hng,” Luke’s mouth says. “Uh.”
Michael catches his disorientation and leans closer, concerned. Luke picks up on a whiff of his cologne and it’s like being slapped in the face. With a bus.
“Are you good?” Michael asks.
Not trusting his voice, Luke nods. He can’t get the fucking image of a shirtless Michael out of his head. His face flushes impossibly red.
“I’ll—uh,” Luke manages, voice cracking embarrassingly. “That’s okay! I wasn’t—wasn’t that cold, anyway.”
Michael shoots him a puzzled look, brows furrowed. He looks like he’s about to say something, so Luke cuts in and asks something vague about their joint project to get Michael’s attention off of him. Michael starts rambling about urban gentrification and digitization, and Luke mentally logs out of the conversation completely.
It’s fine. This is just…Michael’s vampire effects. Mind control. Voodoo shit. Obviously.
—
Alright, so. Luke might’ve embarrassed himself immensely and failed catastrophically at making his point back there, but a wise person once said, ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’
Ashton looks up from his notes. “I didn’t know you read Nietzsche."
“What?” Luke says. “No, that’s Kelly Clarkson.”
Ashton shakes his head. “Should’ve seen that coming.”
Luke drapes himself over the table. They’re sitting in a deserted study hall, only a few students scattered around the room, hunched over their work and murmuring softly to each other.
Calum’s got his laptop open, but he’s playing that silly dinosaur game on the browser with his internet turned off. His keyboard clicks loudly as he slams his fingers over it.
“So now what?” Calum asks, eyes still glued to his screen. “Ready to admit your big gay crush?”
“My what?” Luke tilts his head.
Calum sighs. “Mate, you’ve been talking about him for the past month.”
“Well, yeah. It’s an ongoing investigation, Cal. I’m gathering evidence.”
“You’re gathering a sexuality crisis.”
“What does that even mean?”
Calum shrugs. Then jerks. “Wait, shut up. I’m gonna beat my high score.”
He leans impossibly closer to his laptop screen, tongue sticking out in concentration. Luke rolls his eyes.
“So anyway,” Luke says. “I’ve decided to shift my focus.”
Ashton looks up, brows raised in surprise. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” Luke continues. “So, vampires are supposed to be undead, right—”
Ashton groans exaggeratedly and thunks his head onto the massive book on the table before him.
“—so he’ll probably be really cold to the touch. You know?”
Ashton whips up to look at him. Calum’s finger audibly slips on his keyboard. He looks at Luke, eyes wide. They share a panicked look, then lean in furtively towards Luke.
“Luke,” Ashton says, voice barely above an urgent whisper. “Are you going to fuck the guy?”
Luke reels. “What? No.”
Wait, that’s actually—
Wait. No.
Calum watches the thought process pass through Luke’s head, apparently visible on his face. He grins, eyes sharp.
“Damn,” he says. “I’m not even mad you interrupted my game. This is gold.”
Luke folds his arms, frowning. “I’m just going to…like, touch his arm or something.”
Ashton huffs a laugh. “Whatever you say, man.”
“You know what?” Luke says, standing up suddenly. He points at Calum, and at Ashton. “Fuck you, and fuck you too.”
He slings his bag over his shoulder, ignoring the way they’re shooting him looks that say they’re just barely holding back laughter. He storms out of the library in what he hopes looked more like a dramatic exit than a prepubescent tantrum.
He’ll show them.
—
Luke does not know how to show them.
He’s been racking his brain over it. How can he get a solid assessment of the temperature of Michael’s skin without doing something extremely creepy? He can’t just grab his forearm out of the blue, or anything along those lines. He’d freak the guy out. And Michael barely has any other skin exposed anyway.
It’s late evening as he mulls over this conundrum, the sun just barely above the horizon, casting a soft pink light. The shadows on the pathway stretch far, dancing as the evening breeze shifts. The last of the morning birds chirp mournfully as the day closes. He’s headed back to his dorm, prepared to drop into bed, stick his earphones in, and wrap up the last bits of his semester projects.
He walks into the dormitory hall, and stops in his tracks. The hall is empty, all the couches and armchairs and tables vacant, save for Luke’s favourite loveseat, tucked comfortably against the back wall. The window overhead lets a touch of orange-gold fall upon the inhabitant of the sofa, who looks up when Luke enters.
“Michael,” Luke smiles, and his breath is suddenly heavy in his lungs because the fading sunlight casts a warm glow over Michael’s shoulders as he reclines back into the seat, laptop resting on his thighs.
“Hi,” Michael’s lips part upon a smile. He bites his lip, an unfamiliar tension fading from his frame as Luke approaches him.
Luke takes in the man. He’s clearly busy, working on something that has his brows fixed into frown, skin underneath his eyes dark with exhaustion. He looks like he’s spent the past two nights awake.
“Can I…join you?” Luke asks. Then pauses. He’s not sure why he asked that, really.
But then Michael nods, looks at him like he’s grateful for the company, and then Luke’s slipping his bag off and settling into the space beside Michael.
The thing is—the couch is small. It’s meant for two people of regular height, and Luke will graciously admit that both him and Michael are much beyond ‘regular height.’
And so their knees touch. So their elbows brush with every shift.
Luke grabs a random book from his bag and opens it, barely processing the words because—well, because his theory backfired again.
Michael is warm. Luke feels the heat of Michael’s body seep into his bones. His skin is on fire where it meets Michael’s. His cheeks burn, but he’s not sure why. Is this…this can’t be the vampire bit of Michael, can it?
No, this is. This is just the Michael bit.
Luke zones out over the pages of his book, losing himself to the comfortable silence. The click of Michael’s laptop keys, the way Michael’s shoulder grazes his own, the way they seem to angle towards each other like gravity.
The light from the window fades. The warm yellow lights of the hall flicker on, and Michael sighs through his nose at something, and then Luke’s counting Michael’s breaths without stopping to wonder why.
Luke flips mindlessly through the pages. Michael’s cologne wraps around him, and his eyes flutter at the scent as he tries to burn this moment into memory. Him, Michael—not the vampire, just the person—alone together, alone in silence, like a strange shared understanding, an exchange of consolation and comfort.
All of a sudden there’s a warm weight against his shoulder. Luke stiffens. He turns in time to see Michael, pressed up against him, leaning his head on Luke’s shoulder as he dozes.
Oh.
Michael is so warm. He’s so—
Luke tries to hold still, to breathe as little as possible because he’s afraid to wake Michael. He shuts his book and puts it aside, cheeks flaring a vibrant red as he looks down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers to keep from startling Michael awake as he breathes—slow and deep and relaxed—against him.
It’s strangely intimate. The room holds still, everything suspended in time, in space, as the world narrows down to just the two of them. Outside, a songbird calls for its mate. Somewhere, a bicycle bell rings. The couch seems to sink under Luke’s and Michael’s weight, trying to swallow them whole.
Michael’s hands rest on his thighs, his laptop screen dark. His chest rises and falls rhythmically, and Luke’s eyes droop. He tilts his head to rest against Michael’s. His breathing slows, posture relaxing, the world fading into a dream, until—
“Yo, Luke!”
Luke startles at the voice. Michael jerks awake. He looks around, sitting straighter. Luke suddenly feels cold as Michael draws away from him. Michael meets Luke’s eyes, face growing red immediately as he realizes he’d fallen asleep against him.
Luke looks for the source of the disturbance, finds Calum standing at the hall entryway, looking smug. He looks at Calum’s stupid self-satisfied smirk and tries to explode him with his mind.
Michael’s already gathering his things. Luke tries to offer him a smile, but Michael’s in a rush and he won’t look at him.
“Michael, I—” Luke tries, not even knowing what he’d say.
“I have to…um,” Michael gestures vaguely at the stairwell up to the dorms, gripping his bag and laptop to his chest. “Yeah. See you around.”
“See you around,” Luke replies automatically, but Michael doesn’t stay long enough to hear it. He’s already halfway up the stairs by the time Luke registers he’s gone.
He looks back at Calum, and if looks could kill.
Calum holds his hands up. “I didn’t know he was asleep.”
“Delete my number,” Luke tells him.
—
It’s astounding how Calum’s still alive and breathing, considering just how many times Luke’s tried to kill him over the past week.
Calum looks at Luke with the most shit-eating grin every time they pass Michael on campus. Ashton’s been let into The Couch Incident, as Luke’s been calling it, and now he’s also taken to grinning at Luke whenever Michael is around. Luke is seriously considering buying rat poison for his traitorous friends.
As for how things are with Michael…Luke can’t really put it into perspective for himself. It’s a bit odd—both good and bad.
Good because Luke and Michael will occasionally catch each others’ eye from across a room, and both of them will blush bright red. Luke seems to almost gravitate towards that spot on the loveseat in their dormitory hall. His heart races each time his phone dings a notification alert, because he keeps expecting to see a message from Michael.
On the downside, it’s weird because despite all this, Luke’s barely spoken two words to Michael for the past week, because each time he tries, he thinks of The Couch Incident, and how his breath had fluttered in his lungs from Michael’s weight, his warmth. He knows, looking in Michael’s eyes, that he’s thinking of it too, and so their conversations consist of awkward stuttering and clumsy small talk. They’re too flustered to talk about The Incident altogether. Or about what it means.
Luke’s conflicted. He can’t…be feeling this way around a vampire. He’s falling for Michael’s mind-control tricks, even though he knows it. Some part of him maybe even wants to fall deeper still, and despite all his hesitation, that part is beginning to win out over everything else.
Calum and Ashton notice, obviously. And that’s how they’re here: on the same picnic table on the campus lawn where it all began. Luke’s eyes flit to that spot under the tree, where he’d seen Michael strumming his guitar. It’s unoccupied this time around, and the emptiness tugs strangely at Luke’s heartstrings.
“Luke,” Ashton guides Luke’s attention towards him. “Mate, what’s the plan now?”
Luke knows he’s referring to Michael. Calum leans on his elbows against the table, and Luke childishly frowns at him.
“I don’t know,” Luke says. “I haven’t finished my investigation yet.”
Ashton sighs, but Calum clears his throat, a little awkwardly.
“So, um,” he says conversationally, tracing the cracks on the wooden table with his fingertip. “Why don’t you just finish it?”
Ashton opens his mouth to say something, but Calum nudges him, and some kind of understanding seems to dawn in his eyes.
“You…uh…you got any more vampire tests left to run through?” Ashton prompts.
Luke looks between them. He thinks of Michael.
Pale, pretty, tall Michael, with the lovely green eyes and the fresh pink lips and the calloused fingertips and the sharp fangs…and maybe Luke does have another test to run through. Something better. Something bigger.
He steels his resolve and looks between his friends.
“I’ve got…I’ve got one last card left to play.”
—
He catches up to Michael after one of the classes they have in common. Michael’s shoulders are tense, even as he turns to meet Luke with a smile. Luke’s brain kind of melts out of his ears.
“What’s up?” Michael asks.
Just spit it out, Luke tells himself.
“You should come over to my dorm tonight!” Luke says, and it comes out high-pitched and loud. A small group of girls walking past them pause and look over, giggling.
Michael’s cheeks take on a soft pink tint. “Uh.”
“I mean,” Luke flails. God, he should've really thought this through. Rehearsed in front of the mirror or something. “I mean. I was thinking, like, pasta?”
“Wait, I don’t—”
“I can cook! I want to…I want to cook for you.”
Michael smiles, cheeks flushing further. “Right, but, are you—”
“If you’re busy, we could just—”
“No, Luke, I’m not busy, but—”
“Great!” Luke says. “So, like, seven tonight? My dorm?”
Luke begins walking backwards, away from Michael before he says something stupid, or before Michael can change his mind or something. And he’s looking at Michael’s flushed cheeks, the way his eyebrows furrow in confusion, how he bites his lip, and all of a sudden Luke realizes he forgot to actually ask the pivotal question.
He stops in his tracks.
“Oh my god,” he manages, thankfully still in earshot of Michael. “I was asking you out. I forgot to ask you out.”
His cheeks flare hot as Michael laughs, and Luke’s eyes snag on his canines.
“I did this all wrong,” Luke says, blinking fast. “Oh, this is horrifying.”
Michael draws closer. “I’ll go out with you, blondie,” he says, grinning. “But you gotta ask me the right way.”
Luke knows he’s just teasing, but butterflies erupt in his stomach nonetheless.
“Michael,” Luke says, drawing in a breath. “Can I take you out on a date?”
“To your dorm?”
“To my dorm.”
Michael’s eyes are alight with amusement. With something like fondness.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that.”
—
When Luke lets Michael into his place that evening, he’s buzzing with anxiety and apprehension. He’s got a little kitchen island, where he serves Michael his best wine, and flits around the kitchen preparing what he hopes is his best pasta recipe to date.
It’s good. It’s really good, in fact. Luke and Michael fit together like puzzle pieces, like stars orbiting each other. Luke’s heart is in his throat the whole time, because there’s a glowing warmth in his chest and he can’t stop looking at Michael, taking in the way his hands move as he speaks, the way he licks his lips, the way he throws his head back and laughs fully.
Ultimately, Luke puts a plate of pasta before Michael, and sits opposite him with his own serving. It turned out wonderful, creamy and perfectly supple. Luke’s really proud of himself.
“It smells amazing,” Michael says. “What’s in it?”
Luke rests his chin on his knuckles, smiling. “Try it.”
Michael arches an eyebrow. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you not to poison me,” he jokes.
“Oh, I would never,” Luke plays along.
Michael chuckles to himself, picking up a fork. He goes to take a bite, when Luke suddenly sits up straighter. He gathers his resolve, then decides: no better time than now.
“Wait!” Luke exclaims, and Michael’s fork stops in the space between his plate and his mouth. “Before you eat, I have a few things I want to…um.”
Michael shifts in his seat, setting the fork down and giving Luke all his attention. Luke wonders if he can tell how Luke’s heart is racing, how his pulse flutters when he meets Michael’s eyes.
“If…” Luke starts. “If you ever need a helping hand with your…um. Y’know. I won’t tell anyone.”
Michael flushes. “Luke, I…” he seems to struggle with his words. Then:
“Thank you, really, but I’m openly gay.”
Oh.
“Oh,” Luke says. “I knew that.”
He did not know that.
“I was just saying,” Luke continues. “Like…ifyouwanttobitemeyoucandothat.”
There’s a stretch of quiet as Michael processes the words. And Luke’s sure now that Michael can hear his heart beating. They stare at each other, and the silence is almost suffocating in its awkwardness, especially because Michael’s gone a little red.
“What,” he says.
Fuck.
Luke says,“You can bite me if you want.”
Michael says, “What.”
Luke’s tongue suddenly feels really heavy.
“I just—I was just saying that I can keep your secret!” he goes on, even as his brain is telling his mouth to shut up shut up shut up. “I know you’re a vampire and—like! I respect it! It’s totally cool!”
Michael is quiet for a moment, his eyes flitting between Luke’s own.
“Why…” he starts carefully. “Why do you think that?”
Luke blinks. “Well, the…you’re really pale. And…your teeth—”
“My teeth?”
“ —they’re really sharp! And how…when you came to my dorm the last time, you asked for permission. And…your tumbler, how you said I wouldn’t like what you were drinking…like—blood.”
Michael makes a face like he’s in pain. Even as Luke speaks, he can hear just how silly he sounds, but his brain isn’t sending the right signals to his mouth because he can’t stop speaking. “And when I wore those…low cut shirts. You…my neck…”
Michael’s cheeks flare a vibrant red.
“Luke,” he says, and his voice is strangely high-pitched. “That day, I was—I was drinking vodka mixed with redbull.”
Luke gulps. Oh, fuck you, Ashton Irwin.
“And your shirt…” Michael clears his throat, fingers coming up to fiddle uncomfortably with his earlobe. “Um…you just—you looked really good in it. That’s…that’s why.”
Right. Okay.
Luke looks down at his plate, blushing so hard his cheeks kind of burn from it. He kind of dies right there on the spot and then revives himself in under two seconds, which is a new record for him.
Michael sits back a little and looks at Luke through knitted brows.
“So,” he says. “When you did all that, you weren’t…flirting?”
“Um, no, I was,” Luke bites his lip. “I was collecting evidence.”
Michael exhales, and his eyes flash a mixture of confusion and amusement and…something else. Luke can’t breathe. Reality hits him like a truck. Michael isn’t a vampire. Luke just wanted him to be because he couldn’t explain his sudden intrigue in the man.
“Luke,” Michael says, voice strained as he leans forward and squints into his plate of pasta. “There’s garlic in this, isn’t there?”
Luke shrinks under the weight of Michael’s gaze, under his words, under the veil of his own stupidity. “Yes,” he manages, voice small.
Michael huffs a laugh. “Wouldn’t that technically be poisoning me?”
“Well, are you a vampire?”
He can’t keep the bite out of his voice, but Michael takes it in stride. He stands up and crosses over to sit near Luke, so close that his knees brush Luke’s, and there’s that radiating warmth again.
Michael leans in close.
“No,” he says, sly grin parting his pretty lips. “But I can bite if you ask real nice.”
Luke stills.
Oh, this is it. I’ve died. I’ve died and gone to hell.
He flushes all the way down to his toes. “Don’t—don’t make fun of me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because.”
Luke inhales sharply, turning fully to face Michael. “Because I really, really liked you for months and I looked for you in every room and I waited up for your texts—and I thought it was because you were an evil supernatural bloodsucking soul-eating ghoul.”
Michael lets the words hang between them. His hand comes to rest on Luke’s knee, warm and grounding. “Well, you’re not wrong about the ghoul part.”
“Michael.”
Michael laughs, throwing his head back, bursting at the seams, and it’s such a gorgeous sight that Luke can’t help meeting him where he’s at, mirth spilling from his lips like honey.
“You’re so fucking annoying,” Luke says. “Can you kiss me now?”
“Mind the fangs, will you?” Michael mocks.
Luke rolls his eyes and drags Michael in by the neck, pressing their lips together. Michael smiles against him, leaning in, pulling Luke closer with a hand on his waist. Luke runs his tongue along the line of Michael’s teeth, swallows his melodic gasp, and thinks:
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