Chapter Text
1944
It wasn’t always like this.
This was the ending that was unavoidable, probably the best ending that could’ve happened, but there was a time when it seemed like this would never happen. When neither of them wanted this to happen. For things to end up like this.
But here Jerry was, covered in blood, rivers of red dripping from his maw, which was slowly morphing back into a mouth at the sound of the music of his childhood. It was the blood of his former partner, who now lay dead across the room. Throat torn out with the stake still through his heart.
It was always going to end like this.
1893
Everyone in town knew Jerry. He was the kind of man who would say hi to everyone who passed him by, with the kind of smile that could compel anyone to respond in turn. He was the type of guy that would turn the head of every lady, but he would just ignore them as he walked on by. People joked that it was because his only love was music, or even that he simply enjoyed breaking their hearts. No one but Jerry knew that it was for… other reasons, and no one else would ever know. Jerry had resigned himself to living alone, accompanied by his music and his friends. He didn’t need a wife, not now, not ever.
People knew that if they ever needed Jerry for whatever reason, they could always find him in the various bars around town, plucking away on his banjo. He’d never notice the people watching, always to engrossed in the music he was making, but whenever he’d finish, he’d always flash a grateful smile at the crowd that gathered whenever he played.
Looking back, it’s a wonder Lacoste didn’t find him sooner. He was often a “patron of the arts”, going around to the bars to enjoy the music, then enjoy a meal after. Musicians were always his favorite. Something about them just made his heart sing whenever he got a taste.
The first time Lacoste watched Jerry perform, he was instantly spellbound. He was in a trance so deep, that he didn’t even know he was in a trance until the music stopped and the crowd started clapping. Abercrombie and Fitch, who were sitting next to him started clapping, and he joined in slowly. He wanted to clap harder, but his desire to keep his aloof demeanor prevented him. Lacoste knew at that moment that he just had to have him. It would be such a shame to see such talent go to waste, but it would be oh so very worth it.
Jerry loved performing. Music was something that gave him so much joy and being able to share that joy to others was such a thrill. During the small breaks in between songs, Jerry loved being able to look out at the audience's faces. It was always so clear to see what they were feeling, how the music made them feel. There would never be another feeling that could even come close to this.
The night Jerry met Lacoste was like any other night. The bar was near full as it usually was on Friday nights, which meant that Jerry and his pa (the pianist) would get good money out of it. Not that they performed for the money, but it was a good bonus.
The last round of applause was thunderous, and while Jerry and his pa took their final bows, Jerry could feel the performance adrenaline slowly and pleasantly disappear from body. Once the applause died down and pa started giving his "thank you and goodnight" speech, Jerry hurried to the corner of the stage and packed up his banjo securely so that he could head to the bar and get a drink. Jerry loved mingling with people after shows. Everyone was always so friendly and willing to strike up a conversation. There were people from all over sometimes, so Jerry could almost always find someone new that he'd never met before.
This night, Jerry found something peculiar. Or, well, someone peculiar.
Over in a secluded booth were 3 men. 3 white men. White people didn't often come around these parts, and while it scared Jerry a bit, he was equally if not more excited to talk to these new people. Jerry didn't even realize he was staring until one of the men returned the stare. He was… beautiful. His short dark hair curled perfectly on his forehead and his eyes were a lovely shade of hazel that seemed to see right into Jerry's soul.
Jerry turned his head sharply to avoid the man's gaze, and headed quickly to the bar. He raised his hand to signal the bartender.
"Hey Rich! Could I have my usual?"
"'Course, Jerry," Rich responded, grabbing a glass, "You sounded great tonight, as always! We're lucky to have ya!"
"Thanks, Rich! It's always a pleasure," Jerry said in turn. They had pretty much the same conversation every time, but Jerry didn't mind all too much.
Rich quickly slid the glass over to Jerry, who caught it in his hands, and then walked over to serve the other patrons, leaving Jerry alone with his drink. He lifted the glass and let the cool liquid slide down his throat, a lovely relief from the hot air around him.
When he put his glass back down onto the bar, someone was sitting next to him. It was the man from the booth. He was leaning on the bar, smiling at Jerry in a way he could only describe as predatory. And oh so very sexy.
"'Ello there," the man said with a strong French accent.
"Well, hello to you too," Jerry returned with a smile of his own, which he hoped properly conveyed 'I am very attracted to you, please be attracted to me'.
"I wanted to tell you that your playing was absolutely exquisite. I didn't know a banjo could sound so lovely," the man said leaning in closer.
"Why, thank you, stranger," Jerry said, face just inches away from the other man's, breaths mingling intimately. Jerry pulled back suddenly and thrust out his hand. "I'm Jerry, nice to meet ya."
The man had a look of surprise at Jerry's sudden change of tone. He stared blinking at the hand held in front of him. Hesitantly, he grabbed it and shook it.
"Lacoste," he said, curtly.
"Lacoste, ay? Doesn't sound like you're from around here," Jerry said, smile turning more seductive once more.
Lacoste chuckled at that. Jerry didn't think it was that funny of a statement, but he wanted to hear more of that laugh, so he didn't look to far into why.
"I've been here for longer than you might think, but no. I'm not." Lacoste's hand moved from Jerry's hand to his shoulder, bringing him closer once more.
"Should… should we find a place a bit more private?" Jerry said hesitantly, suddenly worried about the packed bar full of people who could clearly see what was happening. He didn't know if people were accepting of gay people here, but he didn't really want to find out.
"Oh, mon ami, I thought you'd never ask," Lacoste whispered in his ear, grabbing his arm and dragging them both out of the bar and into a little dark alley.
As soon as they were out of sight, Lacoste pushed Jerry against the nearest wall, pressing his lips firmly into his. It was the most wonderful kiss Jerry had ever had. Not that it was a particularly high bar, Jerry had had very few kisses in his lifetime.
Teeth grazed his lower lip, almost causing the skin to break, but not quite. Not that Jerry would have minded. If he was being honest, Jerry felt as if he would go along with anything Lacoste wanted from him.
A soft whine involuntarily escaped Jerry's lips as Lacoste's left his, but his disappointment at the lack of contact was soon remedied by the feeling of lips on his neck. Jerry leaned his head back, hitting the wall, to give Lacoste easier access. He lost himself in the sensation of lips slowly traveling across the length of his neck, the brush of teeth making him moan quietly. A hand reached up to Jerry's shoulder slowly pushing the fabric of his shirt collar away to reveal more skin.
Suddenly, the hand stilled and the kissing stopped.
"What is this?" Lacoste asked harshly.
Oh. Fuck.
Jerry scrambled away, fixing his collar to cover up the long jagged scars.
"Nothing. It's nothing," he responded frantically.
"It certainly doesn't look like nothing," Lacoste insisted, eyes becoming harsh and cold, "tell me what happened."
"It… it was a dog," Jerry lied, heart feeling like it was going to burst out of his chest, "when I was younger, I got attacked by a dog." It wasn't a lie, but it definitely wasn't the truth either. "Either way, it was a long time ago, nothing to worry about."
Lacoste's eyes narrowed and Jerry once again got the feeling that he was peering into his very soul. Jerry turned his head to break the gaze. It was too much. This was all too much.
A hand grabbed his chin and forced Jerry to meet Lacoste's eyes once again. They almost seemed to be glowing red, but that couldn't be possible. It had to just be a trick of the light.
"Tell. Me. What. Happened." Lacoste repeated, emphasizing every word.
"A werewolf," Jerry gasped, words flowing out of his mouth without him wanting them to, "I was attacked by a werewolf and now I'm one too."
Lacoste pushed Jerry's face away, and without the support, Jerry crumpled to the ground in a heap, panting wildly.
This was it, Jerry thought. He's either going to kill me, or tell the others, or both. Either way, my life is ruined.
The hand returned to Jerry's chin. He was surprised to see Lacoste crouched down beside him, carefully moving his face from side to side, almost as if inspecting it.
"A werewolf, hm? How… interesting."
"Wha- What?" Jerry stammered.
"I've never met a werewolf before, I've always been curious what you lot are like. You're less… dog-y than I expected."
"Well, you should see me in a week, I'm sure you won't be saying that anymore." Why was he joking? This wasn't the time for jokes.
But Lacoste just tilted his head back and laughed. It was such a beautiful laugh. From where Jerry was looking, he could see a glimpse of fangs in Lacoste's mouth.
What the-
"Oh, mon petit chien, we have much do discuss. But let's go somewhere a bit more… comfortable. Why don't I take you back to mine, hm?"
Lacoste stood up and stretched is arm out to Jerry. Jerry didn't even hesitate before grabbing it and letting Lacoste lift him to his feet.
Hand in hand, Lacoste led them down the road towards the other side of town. There was a small voice in his head (that sounded suspiciously like his pa) that warned him about following strange white men to their houses, but at that moment Jerry didn't care. At that moment, Jerry knew that he'd never leave Lacoste's side, no matter what happened.