#vampire!len

[stars-of-nixie]

For @tobyaudax, who asked for Coldflashwave, Domestic Vampire AU. 

I fall for your smile. Every time.

[oneiriad]

@robininthelabyrinth wanted Coldwave, somebody is a vampire au - which turned out to be a bit more than three sentences and kinda became a night watch au. Sorry

It takes Mick a moment to realise what he’s smelling when he enters the warehouse.

Oh, it’s not that it’s blood. Blood’s easy, recognizable - common, really. Considering he’s living with Len, well, he’d probably worry if he went more than a few days without the smell.

It’s not that it’s blood. It’s that it’s - not quite human.

It’s not Other, though - he’s been in enough brawls to recognize that sort of blood, the smell and the taste of it. This isn’t Other. This is…

“Did you finally get the Night Watch to sign off on that meta hunting license?” he asks, prowling closer to where Len’s sprawled on the worn-out couch. He knows Len’s been trying for ages - after all, what hunt could possibly be more of a thrill than that? And it’s not like Len would actually mind some Light mage wandering into a hospital and healing the entire cancer ward or something like that to balance his act - what does he care about a bunch of random strangers? But the Night Watch keeps having moral qualms - well, either that or they’re still too fucking uppity to deal with the fact that the scariest Dark Other in Central City is a lowly vampire.

Pussies, the lot of them.

“Sadly, no,” Len drawls, dangling a tiny glass vial between his fingers. The dark red liquid inside must be pretty fresh - it hasn’t even begun to coagulate yet.

“We gonna have a problem?” Mick asks, halfway hoping the answer will be yes. He could use a good scrap. These superhero vs. supervillain battles are all well and good, but a proper fight - oh, he can feel his claws itching to come out already.

“Doubtful. This was a perfectly voluntary donation,” and Len’s smirk is triumphant, the way he smiles when he’s just pulled off a difficult heist. “Courtesy of our favourite speedster.”

“How’d you get the kid to give you his blood?”

“Oh, he came to me, needed something stolen, none of his goodie-two-shoe friends up to helping him, yadda-yadda-yadda…”

“And he just agreed? What did he think you wanted with his blood?”

“Probably some sort of dastardly scheme - selling it on the black market, or something. But it’s not like I gave him any other options.”

“Hmmm,” and Mick sinks down on the couch next to him. “You should have asked him for a pound of flesh while you were at it. Or just his pinkie. That would have made a nice snack. Crunchy”

He can almost feel himself salivate at the thought. Fuck, but it’s been ages since he’s had even a regular license approved. Fucking Light assholes.

Len pats his shoulder.

“When the license comes through. We’ll pick a nice, juicy meta, share him between us. I promise.”

Mick huffs, not quite mollified.

“So, what are you gonna do with it?”

“Did you know that Lisa still meets up with young Mr. Ramon from time to time?” and Mick knows Len well enough not to get too annoyed at the non sequitur. “He’s been letting slip all sorts of interesting details about the Scarlet Speedster and his many - talents.”

Len leans forward, spinning the glass vial between his fingers, faster and faster, staring at it as if he’s trying to mesmerize himself.

“So?”

“So - how’d you like to help me find out how a vampire high on speedster blood performs in the bedroom?”

“We don’t have a bedroom, Snart,” but his lips are already curling back, revealing his own sharp teeth in a grin to match Len’s.

This is gonna be good.