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Date With The Night

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This is absolutely the most unethical thing Jack has done with his nursing degree.

The hospital does a certain amount of, uh, black market dealing, it turns out. In blood. For vampires.

Who exist.

Apparently the existence of vampires is this big open secret in the healthcare field, which...how did this not come up during nursing school? How did Jack make it through clinicals without anyone going, “Oh, by the way, vampires are real, and hospitals conveniently ‘lose’ a certain quantity of blood on a regular basis, so that actual goddamn vampires can feed without going around murdering people, because murder is illegal and we don’t want that, but apparently stealing blood from hospitals is totally acceptable???”

The longer he thinks it through, the more certain Jack is that he’s being hazed.

On the other hand, his boss had been so earnest about the whole thing, and he hadn’t gotten the sense so far that they were a particularly good liar.

So now Jack’s waiting around in the dark in the hospital’s labyrinthine parking complex, cooler in hand, increasingly certain as the night progresses that he’s going to have to quit his new job, when a vampire approaches him.

***

Here’s the thing: if Jack were ever to become a vampire - which is apparently now a hypothetical he has to take at least kind of seriously - he would try to be inconspicuous about the whole situation. It seems like it would be in his best interest, considering his existence as a being still not known by the general public to exist in reality. He wouldn’t wear the sort of thing that would make people look at him and go, “that’s a vampire.” He’d dress like, you know, a normal guy.

This dude? Clearly does not give a fuck if people know he’s a vampire.

He’s wearing skintight black jeans and giant boots with what look like a dozen more buckles than are strictly necessary. Those on their own aren’t terribly remarkable. A little silly on a grown adult, maybe, but not weirder than anything else Jack sees on a daily basis. 

No, it’s the ankle-length, hooded, black leather coat that does it. It flares out from his waist at a truly improbable angle. There are spikes. It’s objectively ridiculous.

“What, no Dracula collar?” Jack says, before he can stop himself.

The guy - the vampire - raises his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You know, the- the thing,” Jack babbles, knowing every word he says sounds even stupider than the last, “the high, pointy collar? Like-” Like vampires wear. “Like Dracula wears?”

“You know Dracula isn’t real, right?”

“Right! No! I know that, just...okay. To be fair, I didn’t know vampires were real until, like, a week ago, so forgive me if I’m not well-versed in what is and is not literal fiction right now.”

The vampire tilts his head a little, smirking. “Right. I thought you seemed new. Where's the regular guy?”

"Marcus?"

"Oh, is that his name?"

Shit! Were they not giving out their real names? Why didn't his boss go over this? 

The panic must be evident in Jack's face because the vampire chuckles and says, "I'm just fucking with you. Yeah, Marcus. I'm Gabriel, by the way."

"Jack." His handshake is impeccable - firm, but not overly so. Not the type to crush someone's fingers in an attempt to prove his own manliness. Jack is, in spite of himself, charmed. 

And this is when it sinks in: setting aside the, uh, eccentric dress sense, Gabriel is one of the most beautiful men Jack has ever seen.

The handshake lingers for several beats longer than would be considered proper in most business settings. "So! You were...you were asking about Marcus?" Jack says at last, reluctantly letting go of Gabriel's hand. "He didn't show today."

"What a shame," says Gabriel. He doesn't especially sound like he means it. "I guess you'll have to do, huh?"

"I guess so."

Gabriel smiles, and for the first time, Jack can really see it: his teeth, glinting, longer and pointier than he'd otherwise expect.

Jack grins back in anticipation.

***

Gabriel’s apartment is as over-the-top as the rest of him - or, at least, what Jack sees of it before he’s pressed against the closed door. He thinks he spies...is that a goddamn human skull? Is it covered in glitter? Would it honestly be weirder if it weren’t?

It’s hard to care much when Gabriel is pressed up against him, one hand gripping him by the hair, the other making its way down his neck, his chest, coming to grip him at the hip, sliding around to grab his ass. Jack moans into Gabriel’s mouth as their hips rock together, shivering when Gabriel nips at his bottom lip, the act seeming a little dangerous in a way it never had before...all of this happened to him.

"Bed?" Gabriel pants when they break for air. Jack nods fervently. 

As Gabriel shoves him onto the bed, an absurd thought latches onto Jack's brain and refuses to let go. "What?" Gabriel asks, bemused at Jack's sudden, totally transparent attempt to stifle his laughter.

Jack gives him a shit-eating grin. "Oh, nothing," he says. "Just surprised you don't sleep in a coffin, that's all."

Gabriel rolls his eyes, but a wide smile spreads across his face. "You're an asshole, you know that?" 

Jack pulls him back down, where they engage in considerably less banter.

***

Marcus continues to be completely fucking unreliable as an underground blood dealer in the coming months.

Gabriel and Jack continue to be completely fucking unconcerned about it.