Chapter Text
Epilogue : Six months later
The house on 13 Yew Tree Lane was a strange place, but if you asked anyone about it they wouldn't tell you so. You might even need to remind them that the last house on the left, the one a bit set apart and closest to the woods, even existed. And then they would just give a disinterested shrug.
No-one cared that the dilapidated house and its wild tangle of a garden stood out like a sore thumb in the tidy little neighbourhood, and no-one ever reflected on the fact that they had no idea who lived there. They barely spared the place a glance, went about their mundane lives as if it wasn't even there, lurking in the shadows.
Mrs. Hunter in number 14 across the street did have a vague memory of seeing a young man in the front yard the other day, taking an axe to the old, fallen branch from an oak tree. Chopping it into firewood by the look of it, chest bare and sweaty in the afternoon sun. He'd had such pretty eyes, she remembered, huge and brown and bright, and a wide, charming smile to match, surrounded by a goatee. But if they had exchanged any words she didn't remember those.
If the companies supplying the neighbourhood with electricity and water had looked closer at their readings, they would have been able to tell that despite no-one at number 13 Yew Tree Lane paying any bills, there was still a small, regular amount of both delivered to that address. But of course, no-one ever felt compelled to check into it.
If the local police department had thought about it, they would have noticed that there were a couple of files on missing people that always tended to end up on the bottom of the piles on their desks, always glossed over, and no-one could find the time or energy to dig deeper into the cases. And since no bodies were ever found, the priority of them never changed. The ones missing had been odd, troubled souls, and the officers wouldn't be surprised if they weren't missing at all. Perhaps they had simply left town. Such things did happen, after all.
On Yew Tree Lane night was falling, windows turning dark as people tucked themselves in to sleep, and in number 13 life – such as it was – began to stir.
Tony woke up to a dip in the mattress on the wrong side of the bed. With a tired, whiny groan he turned on his back, stretched until his hands hit the wrought iron bedframe, rubbed his eyes, and blinked them open. He found Loki sitting beside him, dressed in only his pants and with an oddly tense and expectant look on his face.
Frowning, Tony moved to prop himself up on his elbows.
Usually he woke up to Loki stirring from his daytime slumber in the wide bed in the master bedroom that they had taken to sharing a few months ago. He would wrap his long arms around Tony, who always slept close to the cold comfort of his unmoving side, and tuck him against Loki's chest. Nuzzling his hair, nipping at the sensitive skin of his neck, as if to assure himself that the human was still there.
This felt wildly out of the ordninary, and Tony had a sneaking suspicion it couldn't be good.
As he settled with his elbows on his pillow he saw that Loki was holding something in his hands. Something he instantly knew as a syringe. One filled with a liquid so dark red it was nearly black. Blood. And not his; he knew the look of human blood too well by now.
This had to be Loki's own blood.
Eyes going wider, he quickly looked back up to Loki's face. ”You said one couldn't turn into the other.” His voice was gravelly from sleep.
The vampire nodded, making tangled hair fall off his shoulder and down in front of his face. He took a hand off the thing he was holding to brush it back behind his ear, and as always Tony was struck by how different he looked now, compared to when they had met. All filled out with flesh and muscle, the lines of his once so emaciated face smooth, eyes a lighter, brighter shade of green.
”I did”, he agreed. ”My bite or my blood cannot make you into what I am. But this would still be a gift.” He looked down at the syringe, toying with it almost nervously in his fingers. ”One I haven't had the wish or the power to grant anyone in a very, very long time. One that means longer life, and at least a little of my strength and speed.” Again his eyes met Tony's. ”You would need more, regularly, but considering the success of our little... partnership? I hope I shall be able to provide.”
A beat of silence, and Loki swallowed, looking uncertain. ”If you accept, that is?”
Tony's gaze moved to the cylinder of blood, and then up to Loki's eyes. He'd never let anyone inject him with anything outside of a hospital before, but this wasn't just anything, now was it? So then he smiled, shifted on the bed, took his right elbow off the pillow so he could reach his arm out in Loki's direction, the inside of it facing up.
Offering and accepting, all at once.