Monsters in the Closet || Mitchell & Cillian
notastrayomega
Mitchell didn’t always choose to stay over at Cillian’s. The vampire had his own place and him staying over only left him open to Cillian’s curiosity and probing questions. After Cillian’s discovery of Mitchell’s past the vampire had been steadfastly avoiding the wolf. As much as Cillian wanted to say that he hadn’t been worried, that he hadn’t cared, but he did. Even without knowing about the vampire’s horrific past the brunette had started to worm his way into his daily life. Lately he’d found himself looking around, expecting the vampire to be there only to find himself alone in his apartment.
When Mitchell had breezed into his apartment and simply reclaimed his spot on the couch, Cillian allowed himself to feel a moment of relief before complaining at the vampire like always.
Now, it was nearly three am and Cillian had been asleep for only a few hours when he picked up a strange sound. Dark eyes opening he sat up in bed, listening. Heart picking up when he heard a distinct cry, he was up and out of bed, dashing down the hall and into the living room. The omega’s heart had nearly stopped when he’d heard that cry, so often dreaming of his own families murder and living with the constant fear that hunters would one day find him had terror racing through him.
As he entered the living room he saw Mitchell tossing and turning, mumbled words and whimpers giving Cillian a clear idea of what was going on.
"Mitchell!" He called, moving closer to the bed but not touching yet. "Mitchell wake up, come on it’s Cil, annoying, prissy little Cil? Come on wake up." Letting out a relieved sigh as he saw the vampire’s eyes open, he gave the other a moment to figure out where he was before he was on the bed, crawling up to sit in the vampire’s lap, his arms wrapping around him as he gently pressed his nose to Mitchell’s hair. His heart was pounding against his chest and he couldn’t shake the lingering fear that this had been something else, that it could have been something else. Curling closer to Mitchell, he ran a hand up and down the vampire’s cool back, a quiet rumble leaving him, sounding only slightly shaky as he did his best to hide how he was feeling.
Dropping off the grid wasn’t all that difficult for Mitchell, not when there was a definitive reason he didn’t want to be found. As soon as Cillian had turned his back the vampire had drifted into the shadows and stayed there. Facing what had happened to him was one thing but facing it while there was someone around was definitely not something the vampire wanted to do. He was two states over with a trail of bodies left in his wake before Mitchell finally allowed himself to stop and face the music of his memories, memories he’d managed to keep locked away for the better part of eight centuries.
The nights he spent holed up in Utah, those nights stretching from one week to two and entering into the third, were spent in fevered dreams and hoarse cries that were easily ignored by the owner of the shitty hotel he’d chosen so long as his room was paid for on time. It was nice to be unknown again, to be able to drift from bar to bar without worrying about someone recognizing him, without worrying about someone knowing him. But if there was one thing Mitchell refused to allow himself the pleasure of committing it was running. He was John Mitchell and he’d be damned if he was run off by another werewolf.
It was with that thought in mind that the vampire returned to California, determined to not let Cillian’s knowledge of his past deter him. He walked into the wolf’s apartment, like many times before, and seated himself in his normal position on the couch. Waiting for the other to bring up what had happened before he’d left, Mitchell was relieved when the man came and sat next to him only to gripe about how his research was no weeks behind thanks to the vampire’s impromptu vacation.
The events from his time with Herrick constantly plagued him at night, causing Mitchell to often stay at his own apartment instead of crashing at the wolf’s as he had before. One night, however, after a long shift at work and a series of questions from Cillian, Mitchell found he couldn’t be bothered to make the trek back home and instead found himself once more drifting to sleep on the other’s sofa bed. He should have gone home.
His body tossed and turned on the small uncomfortable bed, hands clenching the sheets tightly in his hands as he struggled and arched against invisible captors. Small helpless sounds fell past his lips along with the names, the most prominent being that of Herrick, and pleads for them to stop.
The sound of his name being yelled finally broke through the images haunting him, the vampire bolting upright as his slightly glazed brown eyes darted around Cillian’s living room. Just as he was finally getting his bearings once more, there was a weight in his lap and arms wrapped tightly around him. One breath told him it was the werewolf, that it was Cillian who was trying to offer him comfort.
His arms wrapped tightly around the younger male, pressing his face against the other’s neck as he trembled. Cillian was here with him which meant that he wasn’t there, that he wasn’t in the hell that was still burned on the back of his eyelids. He clung to the other as a tether to the present, sure he’d hate himself for displaying the weakness later but his grip on the other and the male’s scent was the only thing keeping him from curling up and breaking apart as he had every other night since Cillian had found those images.
As Mitchell’s arms wrapped around him, he let out a soothing noise, one hand coming up to gently card through the vampire’s curling hair. There wasn’t anything he could say that would make this better, make it go away, and it infuriated the omega to no end. He felt helpless just sitting there, only able to hold the distraught vampire as he tried to push down the memories that haunted his dreams.
Nuzzling Mitchell’s hair he pressed a small kiss to his temple, cursing himself for ever bringing this onto the vampire. He knew it was going to be something he would regret for a long time. “ Shhh, you’re right here with me, no where else. I won’t let anyone get to you, I promise.” The renegade omega murmured gently, reaching down to cup Mitchell’s jaw, he gently pulled him away from his neck for a moment, leaning down to press their foreheads together. “It’s just me and you here, no one else.”
Cillian felt a pang in his chest at how distraught the vampire was, knowing that he had, inadvertently, been the one to cause it. He may not have been the source but he was still at fault. Looking down at Mitchell with a gentle expression on his face, he let out a soft sound, hoping that in some way it would sooth the other.
Cillian was still in no way accustomed to comforting someone else, but since he'd found out about the vampire's past he'd become more conscious of what he did when in these situations. His own heart rate was still up from being woken up by Mitchell's cries, he could still feel it pounding against his chest as he tried to push down his own panic. It wouldn't do Mitchell any good if he started to freak out too.
