Harry tapped a slim finger against the delicate scarlet lampshade, lips pursed in abstract contemplation of approval. He surely couldn’t approve of anything. It would just make Benjamin smug.
Glancing up, though, Benjamin could already tell his thoughts. Either that or he was simply and abstractly pleased with himself in general. From what cause, Harry didn’t know- they were as yet only building confrontation. Assuming victory was a mistake.
Harry’s face was cooled to a porcelain mask, delicate skin no more than bone and paint and his expression made of the empty plucking of doll’s eyes alighting by happenstance upon distant figures.
They had taken their seats.
Benjamin was of a more robust stock. Glutted, as is proper to carrion, his eyes roved with the manic and bright delight of the dissipated, which he had always been, and the gloatingly victorious, which he soon suspected himself to be.
Remi sat quietly between them, neither too far, nor too near, and observed the public house.
In their walk (a mere excuse for the vampires to politely feed whilst in Remi’s company, as one night-beast served as distraction for the other), both parties had had ample opportunity to speak their peace to the slayer, and, of course, politics being what they are, neither had any idea what the other had said.
Harry was fervently working out clues while Benjamin used the opportunity to gloat- and be horribly charming to Remi.
Harry, of course, was the only one that was allowed to be horribly charming to Remi. Remi, however, was not generating ample enough protest to Benjamin’s advances that Harry’s surety on this singular and highly possessive position was not slightly shaken.
Ha- if only Benjamin knew that Remi was so stolidly against his own desires! What frustrated Harry worked to his advantage here. If only there were a delicate way to make it plain... but, of course, Benjamin’s look, every time he glanced over to Harry, readily said, ‘of course I know’.
‘And I shall succeed where you have failed’.
Knowing Benjamin the way he did, Harry easily appended, ‘by whatever means necessary.’
He didn’t mean to, but Harry couldn’t help it -looking up, trying to see if Remi’s face betrayed perhaps a new-grown disgust, a sudden change of attitude...
Remi, bless his sweet little empty head, was staring around the public house. His face was occasionally admiring, occasionally getting a strange, empty look as he stared this way and that, at patrons and walls and presumably small bits of fluff wandering across his vision. His nerves shot through, Harry asked himself, for perhaps the thousandth time, what he found so alluring about him.
There was something... the ridiculous speech, the delicate grace sometimes, the deep of his terribly brown eyes...
Benjamin insinuated his arm over Remi’s shoulders, leaning casually closer- that range at which you saw at once that you had seen the color of his eyes on a pietà- sacrosanct and welcoming as the Virgin’s blue. Of course, you saw immediately that you were part and parcel along with him and his extravagant plans, when he looked at you like that. ‘Of course, you know exactly what we’re doing,’ those eyes said. ‘Of course, you shouldn’t doubt yourself, concitoyen- you know the secrets of my heart.’ Harry had felt it.
Remi did too. His shoulders hardly jumped as he willfully leaned in to be whispered to- though it was no secret, of course. If Benjamin had ever actually participated in any the revolutions he sometimes supported from his comfy divan, hardly a one could have failed.
“You like the place, I hope. I chose here with you in mind. I must withhold judgement on the current cook, but in days of yore, the lamb shank was always a specialty. Well worth the asking after up at the bar. You are my guest, feel free to order whatever you like- you may put it on my tab.”
Remi gave a small smile, rather than respond, as they were still adjusting to the noise of the place. It was rather crowded, a state unusual to Harry’s mind, but not discomfiting. Benjamin’s eyes pointing the way, Remi stood, and without so much as a backward glance followed them towards a crammed bar- and with him went Harry’s hopes, and Benjamin’s stare. When the cupid-faced vampire had the decency to put his head back upright and quit watching, his unappeasable smile turned avaricious. They set their elbows upon the table.
Harry had every intention of respecting Remi’s wishes and would even bow to his nonsensical set of personal conditions. However, in the face of competition, it was unavoidable fact that Remi was his.
Harry moved the lamp aside, while Benjamin took care of the little cracked vase and its sweating flowers. Benjamin smiled first.
“I do like that, I must say.”
“Like it from afar, nay, consider it a work of art, which one may gaze at from a healthy distance.”
“Oh?” Benjamin raised his eyebrow and teased their sad little flower with a lazy finger, “You say this distance is good for my health? My, my, resorting to threats already. I have no intention to tread upon your delicate toes, old friend, or to take your seconds,” he slouched into his chair, as if the very thought tired him. “I have a feeling anyway this work of art is more of the Greek than I am fond of... you know, like the Parthenon, perfect from the ground but rather sadly disproportionate up close.”
“Entirely not your type, though you never did have a particularly talented eye for aesthetics,” Harry idly flicked his cuffs.
Benjamin leaned forward, clasping his hands, “I do, however, have an eye for ascetics- or at the very least, a taste.”
Harry sat forward so quickly, a lesser man would’ve flinched, “Even you would not be so foolish as to dare- not with a slayer, not with your lack of control.”
Benjamin returned with a crisp smile, so evidently predatory Harry would’ve traded any number of fine possessions to have Remi see it- or to have seen it himself before...
“What you call a lack of control, I call a difference of opinion. Our maker thought so as well.”
Harry, embarrassed to have been so quickly provoked, leaned back again, “Our maker also thought it amusing to pit us against once another. I assume our different feeding habits was just another way of letting our rivalry amuse her. I shall point out to you that we didn’t even know she was ‘our’ maker until sometime after we’d thought our acquaintance expired.”
“Yes,” Benjamin frowned, running his tongue over his teeth as if some forgotten taste still stuck in his mouth, “Quite expired.” (Though a disgusting display of vulgarity, in this feeling they were in league. Given the situation under discussion it was only Harry’s mutual dislike of their maker that made the gesture appropriate, and, needless to say, one needed to have been there).
“At any rate, I had somewhat aimed for some other fluids than the blood from your slayer friend,” Benjamin smiled again, “Though a little blood does rarely go amiss. Certainly is a sign of a well-spent evening.”
Harry breathed very slowly and carefully -not that he needed to, but rather, he found the gesture gave him something to do that was not contracting his hands about someone’s throat- and tried to think thoughts both dissuasive and calm. Disturbingly, it mostly made his violent thoughts into rather slower, and therefore more satisfying, violent thoughts, which helped to calm him considerably.
“Surely, you can’t be so possessive,” Benjamin continued, noting Harry’s disturbance, “as to deny me my own chance at seduction, if yours has worked so well. Do tell, though,” Benjamin leaned closer over the table, “how exactly you went about bedding him so convincingly that he didn’t stake you- or perhaps that was the culmination of the evening? I do say, old man, if you’ve done that do let me have a size comparison with some of those stakes, I don’t want to get in over my head...”
Harry’s anger had turned decidedly chilly, “I shall refrain from speculating.”
Benjamin’s eyebrows shot up in a most alarming way, “Speculate? So you haven’t really even seen...?”
Harry, had he been human, would’ve wasted much blood in blushing at about this moment. As he was not, he only grew stonily more pale. Benjamin was, of course, well familiar with this gesture, and provoking it, and now wove his way further into Harry’s discomfort like the comfortable sheltering cove it was, “He is as closed to you as he’s been to me, then, isn’t he? I’d assumed, but I wanted to make sure...An honest self-loather! How interesting...”
“And final. He would hardly allow you to compromise his beliefs. Short of learning to control your bloodlust and using that temporary, and very brief, too brief, memory loss to perform your seduction, you’ll never be able to convince him. And, of course, that would hardly be satisfactory,” Though he hated to insinuate the thought had crossed his mind, Harry had still regained the conversational high ground. Of course he had confidence in Remi. Remi would never be fooled by the likes of Benjamin. Remi didn’t let himself be so easily persuaded. Remi was, in that and many ways, better than he...
They both glanced up in time to see Remi turning away from the bar, returning to their table slowly, laden with glasses and victuals. Benjamin smiled, “I’ll just turn him.”
How fortunate it was that they knew each other so well as to be prepared! Harry was glad they’d removed the table settings. He’d have broken them, “Never.”
Benjamin waved merrily, “You assume he’ll have a choice.”
“He would kill you first. I would kill you first. You will never be able to take that choice.”
They turned back to face one another, pleasant conversational masks resumed. Benjamin’s eyes shone brightly over his angelic smile, “Oh, but I’m very persuasive. You know that. I’ll just guide him in the right direction.”
His smile widened just so, “This is exactly the sort of Greek I’m fond of.”
“Never...” Harry muttered, though Remi was too close to make a rejoinder. He watched Remi sit, giving them both a warm smile as he distributed the glasses, and his poor dead heart both suffered and rose with his own conviction.
“Never...”
In truth, Remi was rather less comfortable than his smile betrayed, but he was fond of large hunks of meat, which is exactly what the keep had given him. As his smile weakened he set it down and took his seat. Benjmin and Harry both only made the motions of scooting to give him room- neither would get closer to the other, or allow the other to be closer to Remi. They glared at one another without managing to look mean about it.
Benjamin turned his smile back on, “Well, Remi, what do you think?”
Remi turned slightly, to glance over his shoulder before he answered, “I think the bartender is a gate-keeper vampire.”
This halted them both, temporarily. “...Well, they shan’t do anything to the food, if you’re worried,” Benjamin turned his hands out in a little shrug.
Remi nodded, taking a large bite of his shank, “I know.”
Benjamin and Harry exchanged glances. All Harry could offer was a small gesture of, ‘No, I really don’t know either, isn’t that strange’. Benjamin nodded with impressed acceptance.
“Well, my dear, what do you think?”
Remi, mouth full of the stringy remains of half of his dinner (which looked like it was half of a lamb, therefore Remi had approximately a quarter of a lamb in his mouth, if that was easier to picture), glanced up and around once more, “It’s nice.”
After a moments hesitation, in which he seemed to consider very carefully over his roast meats, Remi spoke again tentatively, “...You said you know this place well, then, uh... Benjamin?”
Benjamin nodded, “Quite well.”
Remi nodded in return, considering again. He chewed very slowly, then picked small bits of rosemary from his plate, “Uhm... well, then... I mean, you know a lot of the people here?”
Benjamin nodded again, “Indeed. It does come with knowing the place.”
“Oh,” Remi looked a little sadly down at his plate, poking carefully at a slice of onion, “Oh.”
“Rather a lot of them are vampires,” Remi said, as if to no one particular, nodding steadily.
Benjamin looked impressed, “Someday you shall have to tell me how you can know with only looking.”
Remi, getting an expression of some consternation, an expression which Harry recognized as his ‘but-then-I’d-have-to-kill-you-look’, opened and shut his mouth once. Harry tried not to let the expression cheer him overmuch (though it did, extremely). There was a brief silence, when he looked up at them both. Benjamin seemed content to smile by himself off on his side of the table. Harry tried not to have thoughts about his pretty, brown, hang-dog eyes that Remi was trying desperately to consolidate into some sort of apologetic look. Frightening amounts of zeal kept poking through and ruining it. “I suppose... um... you would... ahhhhh- miss them terribly much?”
Benjamin turned back to Remi, some surprise on his face. Harry couldn’t help but feel his chest swell with some little pride. Had Benjamin thought that mere number would daunt Remi? Ha! Never! Remi wouldn’t hesitated to attack if outnumbered a thousandfold. Granted, Harry was more concerned about the one than he would ever be about the thousand.
Once his surprise had faded, Benjamin gave a short laugh, then smiled, “Why, of course not, my dear friend. We aren’t terribly social beasts. And do feel free to extend my tab as you like, beforehand.”
Remi, quite pleased (which made Harry pleased, until he realized Remi was pleased with Benjamin, which pissed Harry off), went back to eating his shank of meat as if he wasn’t planning on a bloody rampage for after dinner. He blessed them both with an easy smile, “So, what were you two talking about?”
“Ah!” Benjamin leaned back in his chair, “Initiation.” He exchanged a private smile with Harry, their little joke which was terrifically unfunny in Harry’s opinion, before he continued, “We were fondly reminiscing of our beginnings.”
Remi nodded, “You mean, how you two met?”
It was as if he’d suddenly proclaimed himself l’empereur. Harry, temporarily, lost his sangfriod. Green eyes shot to Benjamin only to see him catch his tittering delight behind his fangs. Remi very nearly put down what he was eating, gazing up at Harry.
“Benjamin said it was a very interesting story.”
Ah. So that’s what they’d talked about when Harry’d been off. Damn. Double damn. Triple damn, if Harry could’ve managed it before his conversational reply was due.
“If you’re very interested in dry academics,” and he smiled a tight smile.
Remi looked supportively disinterested but Benjamin laughed, “They didn’t stay dry for long, though, did they?”
Benjamin only laughed harder when Remi looked confused. Harry made the attempt to rescue his position, “We were school rivals- it was all about examinations and honorifics. We were hardly genuinely acquainted until we both began this life.”
By ‘this life’ of course, Harry could only mean one thing. This topic, though, was much more in his realm of interest than schooling. (Remi’s schooling had long ago been overtaken by a confusing blur of girls who were all wildly interested in his future without being remarkably concerned about his education, despite the teacher’s insistence that the two were intertwined. Notes and problems upon his slate were often replaced with tremulous queries about his plans if he even took his eyes off of it long enough to look in his book. As a result his edifying memories tended be a mix of whom Caesar had conquered and when Marie was planning to gig frogs and whether or not he ought to come along).
“Was it around the same time?” Remi asked.
Benjamin smiled with pride, “Not at all- I am nearly a year older than our friend Harry here.”
Harry cocked a brow, “As is evident by his aged and refined behavior.”
Having taken the pause to consume a significant chunk of the potato population, Remi had to swallow before his inquiry could be understood, “Isn’t that rather strange, that it was so close?”
Harry shrugged, “We were aware that we were both being... observed by a particular woman beforehand. Once we discovered the coincidence, it was quite reasonable. Benjamin successfully hid his conversion, from me at least, for nearly a year.” Herry nodded in recognition.
“And Harry managed to hide his for a further four months or so,” Benjamin nodded back.
“So... you both had the same... er... uhh....” Remi searched for delicate way to put it, assuming that the slayer terminology of ‘blood-sucking beldam’ would be disrespectful.
“Yes,” Harry nodded.
Silence descended, as Remi seemed to be assembling his thoughts, “So that means... you’re... uh... like...brothers?”
Benjamin leaned forward, “One little incestuous family.”
The color that Remi turned would’ve been a stiff alarm bell to any hungry creatures in the place, if only he hadn’t been sitting with two of them. Good man that he was, he attempted to laugh it off, only didn’t quite manage, “...er... uh... what?”
Harry was trying to find some way to head the conversation off, but Benjamin ploughed through with a hearty laugh, “That was the way of things, my dear- as we were scholars without brilliance or research to back us, we needed patrons. And, of course, some of the easiest patrons to woo are the lonely wives of wealthy nobility. So woo her, we did.”
Harry put a hand over his face, and spoke grittily, “Not realizing, of course, that she was of the undead, and had both the leisure and energy to encourage our rivalry.”
Remi was still an uncomfortable shade of red, but it was easing, “Oh... erm... I see.”
Benjamin leaned back again, “Of course I won that battle, call it winning if you may, and thus; a year older, and etcetera. Of course it was to be expected as poor Harry hadn’t, at that point, seduced anyone other than old men in ages.”
If Harry’d had something to spit out, he would’ve let fly; as it was, he nearly spit out his own tongue and jammed the table uncomfortably into his chest. Remi looked rather like he’d bitten into his dinner and suddenly found it’d been alive the whole time- he didn’t even stop his drink sloshing over. Benjamin was the only one unconcerned, and when the table rocked back onto all four legs, he set his glass back down with aplomb.
“Poor dear was out of practice.”
In the ensuing resounding silence he pulled his little red pocket handkerchief out and dab at the pool spreading rapidly towards Remi’s lap. Harry looked at Remi. Remi made the mistake of looking back.
Benjamin continued with sham shock on his face, “Oh, my, I seem to have spoken too bluntly. Did you not know?”
His look of concern should’ve been chiseled on a putto in a basilica in Rome. If Harry’d had a chisel...
Harry cleared his throat, “Perhaps our acquaintance hadn’t quite worked up to such personal details...”
Benjamin merrily scoffed, “Oh, darling, he’d have figured it out. How else could you have paid your way into Cambridge? You certainly weren’t impressing them with your academic performance. Though there must’ve been some kind of schooling, as you had to learn somewhere how to-.”
“-That’s quite enough.”
Harry set his hands on the table. Benjamin, for once, listened and shut his mouth, though not without a self-satisfied little smile. Harry stared at his hands in silence.
He had no intention of keeping the facts of his past from Remi, but he’d rather have had a slightly better time to deliver them. (Like, maybe, in his most hopeful fantasies, over wine at midnight, having already spent a nicely befuddling early evening, in the context of which extra experience might seem a boon and a nice introduction into spending the rest of the night in bed, too).
There was no use in fighting Benjamin; they’d both known they were of equal strength and viciousness that, when called to combat, the fight would most likely end when one or the other got bored and wandered off. There was also no use in denying his attempt at slander- Harry had decided long ago to never once doubt himself and his decisions. As much as he wished otherwise, he would not force the issue, either. It all depended upon Remi, and Remi alone. In truth, perhaps Benjamin was doing him a favor, forcing him to confront Remi with what he hoped would be the easier bump in their relationship to smooth (he could only assume that unnatural immortality would be a slightly larger issue than gender preferences- or rather, he could only hope). If it could not be surmounted, then so be it. Best that it were done.
Still, if Benjamin were dead in a ditch somewhere, Harry wouldn’t argue for the tragedy of it.
And, of course, if Remi chose to renounce their friendship now, he still felt that it behooved him to make sure that he came to no harm at Benjamin’s hands. Just because the violence would be fruitless didn’t mean that Harry wouldn’t set about it with vigor.
So braced in his thoughts, the vampire looked up once more. Remi’s expression had not changed, or rather, it changed so minutely that each other feeling was only a pebble denting the look of consternation and shock. Benjamin, of course, looked satisfied as a Persian cat.
Harry’s shrug was one crafted from years of practicing just exactly the right amount of lift that it seemed to hardly allow enough air into the lungs to breathe out the work ‘ennui’. “Unfortunately I was not gifted with wealth at birth like our dear friend Benjamin. It was a rather difficult task to live for very long upon the streets, and I had no intention to keep doing it, by any means. I fled my apprenticeship, as my master seemed only to desire that I either never grew, and therefore never needed more food, or I died in a timely enough manner that he could procure another apprentice to take my place. He was willing to facilitate such an occurrence, even. I decided the best way to improve my odds lay in academia.” He shut his eyes and nodded his head, waving his hand to say, ‘and, as has been stated, therefore, etcetera,’ letting his audience oblige themselves with the Q.E.D. if they so desired to append it.
Remi’s brows contracted. Benjamin leaned over and put a soft, comforting hand on Remi’s shoulder, “I would hate to think that past indiscretions would affect your friendship- this was, after all, a rather unusually long time ago.”
Remi stayed silent, so Benjamin continued, “Times and situations were different, and just because one has bargained one’s all to those who are useful to them, certainly doesn’t mean that one shall ever do it again, my friend.”
Remi cast his eyes down, then back up again, something like the anger and suspicion that Harry had feared coming into them. Benjamin could hardly contain his pleasure at the sight. Harry felt, like the Pharaoh of old, his heart suddenly harden as if turned by some other hand. He hadn’t the time to feel distressed- he hadn’t the privacy to feel anguished. Like a good Englishman, he would finish dinner first.
Remi, finally, after much inner debate, opened his mouth and let the bite of his dinner he’d surreptitiously been trying to spit out for the last half-hour just fall back to the plate. He put the shank back down and wiped his hands on his trousers. Borrowing Benjamin’s red handkerchief by plucking it from his hand, he wiped his mouth and made certain to get all of the grease off of his fingers. Clearing his throat, he begged pardon, and stood, not giving either vampire a complete glance.
He tossed the handkerchief back on the table, “If you don’t mind staying here a while...”
Neither vampire expressed an objection. Remi turned and disappeared into the crowd towards the bar.
Benjamin looked at Harry smugly, “I think he’ll amuse me for at least a week.”
Harry used his own handkerchief to wipe his mouth, “I do rather hope that you choke to death.”
Remi reached the bar. He took a rather deep breath, and found enough cheer to put a better than average smile on his face. He leaped on the bar and prepared to do what he always did when faced with a moral conundrum.
“Foul demons and beasts of the night!” He placed his foot upon the barkeep-and-gatekeeper’s shoulder, pushing him into the shelves behind him, “I propose for thee a toast, that thou’st found thy seeds well-sewn...”
The bar, so full of patrons still as standing trees, yet so silent that all could hear the rustle and draw of each measure of the twelve-inch beechwood stake he drew aloft...
“...for tonight begins thy reaping.”
Sufficiently shocked, he managed to kick the stake home before they even realized what they’d gotten themselves into and knocked him from the bar.