Chapter Text
Techno has brought a new pet.
A human.
Wilbur knows his brother. Techno barely has any patience for keeping a human around more than a few minutes to which he kills them off by sucking their blood dry and disposing their body.
But this is not the case.
Wilbur finds Techno's pet loitering in the kitchen. A boy in his teens with lanky limbs and unkept hair, he's navigating the contents of the fridge, head shoved in to further inspect, displaying a weirdly relaxed demeanor, unbeknownst to the vampire hovering between the doorway, who's body completely barricaded the only exit in the kitchen.
"Making yourself at home?"
Wilbur's abrupt quension springs out a jolt. The blond's head spins towards the source of the voice, eyes widening at Wilbur for a split second before narrowing in irritation. "Could've made yourself known without scaring me, prick."
Wilbur raises a brow. "That scared you? You're inside a mansion occupied by vampires. Shouldn't you already be scared?"
The blond rolls his eyes. "It takes more to scare me, big man." He turns his back to Wilbur once again as if he's someone not to worry about, not to be feared about. "Anyway, you guys have anything else to eat other than these astonishingly amount of potatoes lodging around your fridge for some ungodly reason?"
Wilbur remains still on the doorway, arms crossed as he examines the new visitor.
He shrugs off at the vampire's lack of response, moving to open the cupboards and brightening when he finds a jar of biscuits, taking it without hesitation. "Fucking finally," he says, and shamelessly opens the lid to devour. "Thought I was gonna starve to death in this shitty place."
There's a pregnant pause, occasionally broken by the blond's chewing.
Finally. Wilbur asks, "Why you?"
The chewing stops, but is resumed after a moment of considerion. "I don't get what you mean by that question"
"I mean, why you?" the vampire repeats, head lolling to the side as he stalks closer. "My brother is not one to waste his time, you see. He wouldn't have kept you alive if he didn't find something about you remotely interesting to keep."
Wilbur hovers beside the boy. His height overshadows the other's shorter figure, he centers his weight on one arm against the countertop and drifts to the side of the boy's neck, inhaling. "Is it your blood?" he asks mostly to himself. "You do smell sweet."
More than sweet, his mind provides. He smells delicious.
He steps back, and snarls. "Personal space, bitch."
A grin perks up Wilbur's lips. "None of that, kitty-cat, I was just simply looking at the merchandise. I won't touch."
"Kitty— why fucking kitty-cat?" he sputters, nearly choking on the food still on his mouth.
"You remind me of my many, many pets. Most of which were feline," the vampire explains, "there was this one cat I had who hated taking baths. He'd glare at me every time and hissed. Sometimes even leaving scratches on my arms."
"Ha," the blond snickers, "deserved."
"Indeed," he muses, "though I do discipline them if they ever get too rowdy."
"Yes, yes, I'm sure you're a good owner." Sarcasm.
"Good enough for you?" Wilbur adds, satisfied at the way the blond warily stills. "You think Techno will let me share you if I ask?'
"Maybe." He closes the jar. "What would you do if he doesn't?"
"Then I'll wait for him to get bored. Or I'll take you without his notice."
"Take me?" he repeats, tongue dripping in mockery. "You sound like a spoiled brat who throws a fuckin' fit when daddy doesn't give the right toy. Is that what you are, bitch man? A child?"
A growl slips between thin lips. This damned creature dares to mock him. Wilbur grabs the blond's forearm, gripping it in a way that bruises and pulls him out of his position from the counter, roughly pinning him down on the table. Wilbur hears a breathless gasp as he hovers over him, one arm caging beside his head. "Maybe you're not mine, but I'm certain Techno wouldn't mind much if you were returned to him slightly... Scruffed."
"I thought you weren't touching the merchandise?"
Wilbur peels back his lips to show sharp, ivory fangs. "I lied."
He stares at Wilbur, face not indicating any sort of emotion. Then laughs.
The blond's cackle chimes irritably. Humorous and carefree and at the same time, empty in how lifeless it sounds. It leaves Wilbur confused, annoyed, angry. "What," he spits, "is so funny, child?"
"You," he breathes out, and is cut off by his own unconstrained laughter. Wilbur growls for him to continue, and the blond's amusement gradually disappears, becoming serious. "You are so predictable," he finishes with an abnoxious grin, the skin under his eyes wrinkling into smug. "You are exactly as what Techno told me. Whiny. Temperamental. Childish. You don't get what want, so you throw a fit."
Anger emboldens into treacherous flames, seething. "You little—"
"Wilbur," a familiar, low voice speaks out. "What are you doing?"
His brother stands in front of the door. Pink hair tied in a more ruffled, less than perfect braid, indicating he's tied it in a hurried fashion. "I'll repeat the question again," Techno says, tone firmer, "What were you doing with Tommy just now?"
Fucking Tommy peaks his head into view from Wilbur's arm to flash a welcoming smile on the newly arrived vampire. "Hi, big man! How was the meeting?"
Techno's attention switches to Tommy. "I thought I told you to stay in my room."
"You did, but I got hungry. There was nothing in there but mythology books and fuckin' five copies of Sun Tzu's Art of War."
The second Techno's razor sharp eyes return to Wilbur, he feels it the appropriate time to stop pinning Tommy against the table, but he tries to test his luck today. "I was... Hungry?"
Techno is not amused. "Get off him. Now."
"Aw, come on," he whines, but does start moving. "Not even a little taste test—"
"Not right now, Wil."
"Does that mean I could later?"
Techno lets out a warning growl. Oh, his brother is not in a good mood today.
Normally this is a sign for Wilbur not to keep pestering, wait a few hours until his brother has calmed down. But frankly, he's still pissed. Wants nothing more than to put Tommy in his place where he rightfully belongs and there is no possible way he could let this slide.
Tommy hops out of the table, making his way to Techno's side. His little smug look as he passes by pretty much seals Wilbur's promise of pain and suffering.
This scum will pay.
"Why couldn't you follow simple instructions?"
Tommy mutters something under his breathe, and marches forward through the oak wood doors of Techno's room. He enters in an overly familiarized manner, not hesitating to stroll towards the bed where it dips under the blond's weight. He distracts himself by picking apart his nails, tearing out the skin thoughtlessly, then when blood seeps out, and Techno is standing in front of him, Tommy sits motionless, unseeing to the world around him.
Enraged, he grips his chin with one hand and tilts it up until aquamarines meet twin red seas. "Are you listening to me, Theseus?"
His claws poked into the flesh of his cheeks, no doubt leaving indents from their wake. "I already told you," Tommy says, and finally, since they've arrived in Techno's room, turns his attention to the vampire, brows knitted in equal measure of irritation and boredom. "I was hungry, and wanted a snack. It wasn't my fault that tall asshole suddenly waltzed in and made it personal when I called him a bitch."
"You could've waited."
"If you thought that I would, then you don't have anyone to blame but yourself," Tommy says. "I aim to displease."
It's astounding how spending time with Tommy resulted in Techno's patience being stretched thin through gruesome lengths that each time he feels the thread is at its limit and Techno is about ready to snap, he manages to hold off longer that Techno himself is impressed at his own tenacity.
Techno releases Tommy's face, hanging the loose fabric in his cupboard before sitting beside Tommy on the bed. "Come here, Theseus."
Tommy scowls. "Can we do this another time—"
"Are you disobeying orders again?"
The rough, stern tone made it apparent that Techno isn't playing around and promptly shuts Tommy from talking. Huffing, he pushes himself off the bed and climbs on Techno's lap. "Did your meeting wear you off?" he asks, and allows Techno to grab his wrist, rolling the sleeve down enough to show skin.
Techno hums affirmatively. "Starving."
Tommy presses his back onto Techno's chest, lazy and relaxed. "Eat away, big guy."
Techno raises Tommy's wrist onto his mouth, and begins to feed.
Despite the several times he's become to familiarize, there is still an undeniable fascination in watching humans go pliant and succumb helplessly to his venom. A dark satisfaction of having power over someone entirely, completely. And this one sight is no exception.
There is a different kind of thrill in watching Tommy turn under his influence, more than just the addictive draw of power, it sings a deeper, instinctual-driven desire to consume and possess.
He is not blind. He saw the flash of murder in Wilbur's eyes, his teeth bare and ready to not just consume, but to kill. Had Techno came a minuter late, Tommy would've died.
The thought of Tommy dying by another's hands, it sends a spur of raw, visceral emotions colliding in cascading waves. Jealousy, anger, possessiveness all come crashing together to form a chaotic, yet enthtalling mess. Only one thing is certain in his mind
Tommy is not allowed to die.
The boy in his arms is unaware of the scarlet fog brewing in Techno's head, the venom too far engulfed in his system. A cheeky, half-dazed grin lifts to his face, slurring out, "M'feels good."
Techno takes that as a cue to stop, and pries his fangs off.
Tommy whines, the smile replaced by a petulant pout. "Technooo....Why'd you stop?"
He ignores the blond's complains, and licks the smeared blood off. "Because you'll die if I don't."
"I'm not against that—"
"Tommy," he warns.
The blond's shoulders slump. "I'm offering you my blood, and you're not taking it. You're doing a shit job at this whole vampire business, Tech."
"Uh-huh."
"Even Wilbur does a better job than you."
Red oozes his vision but Techno immediately fights it off, controlling the urge to hold Tommy in his arms and squeeze. Instead he tucks him to bed in a rare display of gentleness that would most definitely earn him a tease from Wilbur if he ever witness this scene. Thankfully he's not, and no one has to know.
A distinct scent kicks in the kitchen, capturing Phil's attention from the whirring noises of the coffee machine. He notices Wilbur perk up, his typical morning moodiness replaced by an expecting interest.
He has yet to properly meet Techno's human. Only catching split-second glimpses of the boy until Techno inevitably comes in and sweeps him away before anyone could introduce themselves. He's not bothered with Techno's wariness of showing Tommy off to the rest of his famiy.
Techno is simply a kid with a new, shiny toy. He's reluctant to share it because he wants all the entertainment to himself, and once that interest passes, he'll discard it or pass it off to Wilbur, or maybe to Phil. After all he is a little curious to get to know Tommy.
Phil is also amused at Wilbur's new-found investment. Storming into his office a few days ago, and ranting about a pesky kitty-cat.
("—nothing more than a pest, Techno has to discipline him or else I will," his son stressed out, and Phil could hear Wilbur's teeth grinding at the extent of his emotions. It was made for a frankly entertaining scene. Rarely his sons ever lose their composure, and when they did, they'd almost immediately find a way to get rid of it.
This was a rare situation where getting rid the source of the irritation was not an option.
"Phil!" Wilbur exclaimed. "Are you even listening?"
"I am, mate," Phil appeased. "Sounds like Techno's pet riled you up pretty badly."
"I'll get back to him some day," he swore, and crossed his arms. "If only Techno didn't stuck to him every single day of the week. Have you seen how much he frets over Tommy? He's treating that gremlin like he's made of glass. Techno is being unnecessarily overprotective."
"He seems almost anxious to me."
"Anxious?" Wilbur echoed, humored and not taking Phil's words seriously. "In what universe would the Blood God be anxious of?"
"I don't know," Phil shrugged, placing folders and papers aside. "But I'd love to find out.")
"Good morning, mate," Phil greets, and places a mug on the countertop, preparing Techno's coffee for the day.
Techno's low, sleep-induced voice returns the greeting, and once Phil turns back to the door; Techno still hasn't left the doorway.
"Hey, are you going in or not?" Tommy asks, golden curls barely peaking out from Techno's shoulder. Sounding awfully similar to Wilbur when he's cranky about someone waking him up.
Techno warily eyes Wilbur sat under the table. "Maybe we should—"
"Oh, come on," the boy groans and pushes— well, attempts to push Techno out of the way. "You've practically locked me in your room for God knows how long. My legs are in dire need of stretching."
Techno does move, and Tommy strolls in. The steaming aroma of coffee grabs Tommy's attention, he walks over to Phil's side, eyeing up the mug almost desperately, then lolls his head to Phil. "May I?" he asks.
Phil has a routine of waking up earlier than his sons to prepare their morning coffee. Techno likes grimy, bitter flavoring while Wilbur prefers his pumped with sugar. Still, he nods, and lets the boy have it. Techno wouldn't mind, probably.
"Thanks," Tommy says, and lifts it from the countertop.
Phil watches Tommy take a sip.
Tommy blinks, sensing his attentive stare. "What?"
"Nothing," Phil answers with a smile.
Kitty looks worn out.
Gaunt lines wanes down his face, aging him up by several years, and yet it contrasts to the ridiculously oversized sweater his entire frame swims in, almost like a little brother wearing his older, much larger brother's hand-me-down clothes. Wilbur snickers at the thought, and Phil hears it, glancing at him briefly.
Tommy sits with his side pressed up entirely onto Techno, their chairs pulled together with Techno's arm lounging around Tommy's shoulders, the gesture seemingly harmless, but Wilbur isn't lost on the implications— it's Techno's subtle call of displaying ownership.
Tommy doesn't seem to notice. Then again, Kitty seems to be a minute away from blacking out. His blue eyes blinking in and out of consciousness.
Wilbur won't lie. He's missed taking care of something. To have another being depend on him entirely for their needs, the chance to forget about his cruel nature and indulge in a wholesome bliss. Wilbur can imagine taking Techno's place— he's exactly what Tommy told him (minus the sarcasm).
A good owner.
Though that comes crashing down when Wilbur remembers how their first meeting came down, and the desire to be soft is torn down. He promises the boy will bleed, and Wilbur is not one to disappoint.
"Not feeling good, mate?" Phil asks Tommy. Not taking his eyes off the boy since he first arrived— it surprises Wilbur how suddenly interested his dad is. He always seemed aloof at Tommy's existence in the mansion.
Tommy grumbles. "Not really. Just dizzy is all."
"Is Techno neglecting you, Kitty?" Wilbur asks, prompting Techno to scoff and Phil to raise his brow at the nickname. "You know, you can always come to me if you feel mistreated."
Tommy snorts at the exact time Techno glares at Wilbur. "Yeah right. That's not gonna happen." He continues to drink his coffee quietly.
"Is there a reason why you're dizzy, mate?"
"We had a feeding last night," Techno answers. "Tommy couldn't handle it."
"Nah, asshole, you were just impatient to wait a few more days that you fed onto me a little too early than usual," Tommy cuts in sharply.
The hand on Tommy's shoulder seizes like a viper around his neck, an unspoken threat. Techno doesn't add pressure for it to bleed, but it had to be painful, and somehow, remarkably, Tommy doesn't flinch, or act surprised.
"Behave," Techno says, not angry, though visibly annoyed. "Or do I have to put a muzzle on you?"
"Do you even own a muzzle?" Tommy has the courage to ask.
"If you keep running your mouth, I might be tempted to get one."
Techno slides a thumb over Tommy's Adam's apple, rubbing circles around such a vulnerable area of the body, instead of intimidating Tommy, however, it relaxes him and presses his forehead onto Techno's chest, sighing at the touch.
"Sleepy?" Techno asks him. Wilbur blinks. He didn't think his brother is capable of sounding soft, with an exception of him and Phil.
Tommy hums. "Who's fault do you think that is?"
"I told you earlier, you didn't have to leave bed—"
"I didn't want to be stuck there anymore. You fucking left me alone and locked me up for an entire day. I felt like I was going crazy with boredom."
"I wouldn't have to if I trusted you not to disobey, Theseus," Techno says sharply, and raises a hand to smother Tommy further to his chest, a ploy to keep the boy from speaking any longer. "Enough. I don't want to argue about this again. You understand why I can't let you wander alone."
"You have a business meeting tomorrow, Tech," Phil mentions in purposely bad timing, and Tommy stills. "The trip would be long. It'll take you a day or two to finish it."
Techno's eyes harden. "Tommy can live for a few days locked up."
"No fucking way." Tommy tears his head away, but doesn't get far when Techno forces him to lay still. 'I'd lose my goddamn mind! I'll be tearing my hair out for hours. You can't let me stay alone in that room, Techno. You just can't."
"I could babysit him for you," Wilbur offers.
"No," is Techno's immediate reply.
"Phiiiiil," he whines, and looks pleadingly at his dad. "Techno said no."
To his luck, Phil appears to be on his side, and tells Techno, "It'd be a good idea, mate. You won't have to worry about Tommy while you're gone. Wilbur's owned many pets, he knows how to be responsible."
"He literally tried to kill Tommy the first time they met."
"I wouldn't do it again!" Wilbur pouts.
"That doesn't convince me. Like, at all."
"I think it's a great idea," Tommy speaks out.
Wilbur looks at him, dubious. Maybe a little speechless. "You're not against it?"
"Not at all," Tommy says, "I thought you had a smooth-brain under all that hideous hair of yours, but turns out you aren't completely useless."
"Little kitty should watch his words," Wilbur says, bloodlust swelling from the cracks, and the smile he beams is sharp. "You don't want me to make good on Techno's words and muzzle you like a real kitty now, do we?"
The exchange between Tommy and Wilbur leaves Techno quiet. He stares at Tommy, eyes examining him with an intensity that could bring any being onto their knees. Tommy, however, remains unphased as ever, either by choice or he's stupidly unaware of the danger he's in.
"So what do you say?" Phil questions. Fingers dancing against the wooden table, failing to appear casual and conceal the mirth in his eyes. "Sounds like a good idea? Even Tommy is alright with it."
Techno's lips tug downwards. His distain spreads palpable over the table, the hold he has on Tommy goes from tight to constraining. "I don't trust Wilbur."
"I could keep an eye out," Phil adds, ignoring the audible scoff from his son. "If it soothes you, I'd make sure Wilbur wouldn't hurt Tommy in ways you don't approve."
"And if he does?"
Phil leans back. "Then you can think of a suitable punishment for your brother. "
Wilbur rolls his eyes. "Have you two forgotten I'm still in the room?"
"It's precaution, mate." His dad pats him on the shoulder, not at all diffusing Wilbur's annoyance.
"I do want to add," Wilbur mentions, and shifts his position closer to the table, hand crading his chin. "If there's a punishment at hand, it should also be appropriate to have a reward. Babysitting this—" he aims a kicks on Tommy's ankle under the table, earning an immediate scowl from the blond, "little shit would be no easy task."
"There should be no award. You volunteered."
"But good behavior should be awarded," he drawls. "It's how dad raised us, didn't he?"
"Wil has a point," Phil comments. "It's only fair."
Tommy squirms under Techno's arm. "Let me out," he grumbles. "I'm tired of you fuckers talking like I'm not here. I'm going back to the room and sleep."
"I'll carry you."
The protest is loud and clear on the blond's face, and yet refrains from actually voicing his complains as Techno adjusts his position, an arm tucking under thin-wire knees and the other cradling on the blond's back. Tommy presses his nose against Techno's nape, face now turned away from the other two vampires, clinging onto the white fabric of Techno's poet shirt.
Techno stands up in the process of departing. "I think we're done discussing this."
"No, we aren't," Wilbur says, mildly disappointed.
"Wait a second, mate," Phil calls, and Techno halts mid-step, "I have to ask first, how'd you manage to persuade Tommy into being yours? The lad is rather fiesty, I don't see him ever agreeing to the arrangement so easily."
"I didn't."
"What?" Wilbur squints.
"I didn't persuade him," Techno answers. "He came with me willingly."