AN:
WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN'T POST HALLOWEEN STUFF CUZ IT'S TOO EARLY??

Though Nico is a little bit against straight up, cold-blooded murder, he'd admit that the sudden urge to just drain the life out of that imbecile is rather tempting. It's not even like anyone would be able to tell, Nico's done it plenty times before and the screams would just be muffled by the infuriatingly loud, abhorrently pathetic excuse of music.

Literally. He would because Nico can literally feel the floor shake beneath his feet. And that fucking house is across the street.

And those lights. Those fucking neon lights, oh god Nico is so ready to just—

For someone who's a hundred and fifty-three years old, he's had plenty of time to be patient. Hell, the amount hours he's been waiting for that shit show of a party to calm down feels even longing than when he was nineteen and mortal and on the ground dying for days while blood seeped from his neck.

And then he turned. Yippee. Cause Nico definitely wouldn't of rather just died on that back alley. Nope. Instead Nico lived and henceforth lived only on human blood alone, cause God was just so caring like that.

What a tosser.

Really with that whole vampire whoop dee doo you'd think that that old guy upstairs would've gave Nico some space and mercy and let him at least have a mildly pleasant eternity. No, instead he gave him a drunk frat party. One of which he isn't gonna tolerate for a single second longer.

Nico's out of his house door in mere seconds, and in front of the party's in less.

"Woahhhh bro, that was so wicked!"

It's mainly driven with an already ill temper that Nico spins around to face whoever's bothering him.

"What?" He says with venom. Because he does.

"Broooo, you like ran here," says a stoned teenager with synthetic awe. "Like whoosh." The stoner has the courtesy to use his hands as a demonstration, the blunt threatening to tumble out between his fingers as he horizontally fist pumps the air.

It's around about then Nico decides he has no time for this, and returns on his simple embark to suss out whatever fucker is hosting this party and—

The hand barely even grazes his shoulder and Nico has the stoner's wrist wrenchingly tight in his grip before he can even blink.

"Don't touch me." Nico seethes.

"Nah bro," he stutters with nervousness despite being as high as a kite. "Bro I was just gonna say that you can't go in without a costume."

Nico's so not in the mood and he almost snaps the poor guy's wrist because of it.

"It's Halloween, bro. You gotta have a costume, you gotta."

"I'm a vampire."

"Bro, you need to try harder."

The stoner wears a skeleton body suit that he most likely found at the dollar store.

At that, he rolls his eyes, but also allows his irises to wash from brown to blood red; lets his pupil narrow into cat like slits. The stoner drops his pathetically precious blunt on the ground.

"Woahhhhhhhhhhh, bro that was sick!"

Nico debates feeding on him and then wrinkles his nose at the thought. Mostly because Nico would on most days rather have no blood rather than one filled with impurities. He's tasted it before and he almost spat it right back out. It was bitter and almost rotten and not that burst of fresh, coppery crimson taste that he always found himself craving.

That and the fact that Nico doesn't just going around killing people all will nilly. He kills only the bad. Low life thugs and criminals and people who blast their shitty music too fucking loudly.

Nico pushes his way through the crowd accumulated in the front yard, it's toilet papered and physically vibrating from whatever insane stereo system this house has hooked up.

Inside, it's a lot more worse.

Even the air itself thrums and Nico can feel the EDM in his throat. The lights are almost so blindingly bright that they weaken him just as much as fucking sunlight.

(No, he doesn't burn nor petrify into a statue. Sunlight dully aches against his skin just enough that he would just much rather stay indoors than to face the day.

And as for garlic. All of those stereotypes are heartbreakingly true. Nico's got Italian roots, saying goodbye to garlic was almost as sad as saying goodbye to his sane, mortal life. Being a vampire sucks sometimes. Really does come to bite you in the arse.)

The throng of tightly packed bodies around him just pisses him off even more. He can barely even move in the crowd that know nothing but to jump and to sway to the music with no sense of rhythm whatsoever. He won't even admit this to himself, but he is slightly envious at how care free they all look. Just dancing and partying and enjoying life like there's nothing to worry about, remaining young and dumb for the night and rueful in the inevitable morning. When Nico was their age, he'd been enlisted into war. When he was their age he had been charging out into rifle fire with a bayonet in hand. And though he managed to survive it, it's not like coming back into your home city that had suffered from mass destruction was particularly easy either. Let's just say that there were barely even any standing houses that would comfortably withstand a standard family get together, let alone an obnoxious Halloween party.

Nico shakes his head, a little bit dazed — it must be those god forsaken lights — and reminds himself of his task.

"You. Do you know who's hosting this party?"

Maybe Nico chose the wrong person, but there are so many people it's practically impossible to directly ask just one. But the guy who decides to register his question looks stroppy, obviously exasperated as he pulled away from making out with a blonde, zombie nurse girl.

He regards Nico with the stink eye.

"Your costume is shit."

Nico hates college kids.

"Who's hosting this party?" Nico tries again, gritting his teeth that threaten to retract his fangs.

"Seriously, why bother coming to a Halloween party if you ain't gonna try? That's kinda lame, dude."

It's only when Nico has his hand around his neck and up against the wall that he realises he's come as Frankenstein. Now pretty obvious from the bolts that are badly glued onto the sides of his green neck.

Nonetheless, Nico doesn't have time for that and this guy is already on thin ice.

"One more time," he growls, "Who. Is. The. Host."

"Will Solace," Frankestein squeaks like timid mouse, "Will Solace. Tall. Blond. Blue eyes. Freckles. Christ, let me go."

Nico doesn't let go because he wants to, but due to the face that the mention of Jesus may have burnt his flesh a little.

After that encounter, Nico spends a little over thirty minutes (and a little over thirty minutes too long) trying to find this so called Will Solace.

However something else does manage to catch the corner of his eye. In the slightly less compacted living room of the fairly big house, Nico sees the twirl of a black dress coat under the lights strips that are currently beaming red.

Then, the lights are killed all together and all that can be seen are the glow-in-the-dark jewellery the crowd wears in their makeshift mosh-pit. Until the lights flicker back to life (something that Nico found that they had an annoying knack of doing every so often) and then the cloaked figure it gone.

For the first time in a century and a half, Nico jumps a little in startle. "No costume, no party. Those are the rules," announces a voice behind him.

Ah. It's the dress coat guy, Nico registers before he registers his actual appearance. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Freckled skin that can still be seen under the artificial light. It's Will fucking Solace.

"Trust me, I'd love to get out of here," Nico says, "But I had to find you first."

For some reason, Will Solace seems a little perked up by that. Raising an eyebrow in what appears to be amusement.

"As tempting as that sounds, I gotta stay here," the blond replies; Nico is more than taken aback, "And besides, you being hot doesn't mean you can get away with not having a costume on Halloween dude. But maybe some other night come over an I'll make an exception."

"I— what?"

"Costume," Will draws out like he's pronouncing to the preschooler. "Go get one."

"I don't fucking care about the fucking costume!" Nico hisses, wildly gesturing up and down his body and for emphasis rakes his gaze across the blond's garments. Out of all the ones he's seen, he can't quite put a finger on this one. He's wearing tight black slacks with a matching dress coat. Underneath which was a white button up, tucked in though slightly puffed out, with a bow tie neat across the collar. His hair is also slightly slicked back, and has skin too pale to be his actually skin tone. And are those fangs?

"You don't care about the costume when you just so blatantly checked out mine?"

He snaps his gaze back to Will's, "What? No. What are you even meant to—" Nico shakes his head once more, getting drastically off task, "I didn't come here to play dress up."

Will, as infuriatingly as ever, picks up on the most irrelevant of things.

"Wait, do you seriously not know what I came as?"

"No! And I don't care—"

"—You're kidding, right? It's like the most obvious thing ever!"

"Well how the fuck am I supposed to know?!"

"I'm a fucking vampire! Everyone knows!"

Nico's momentarily stunned, and then he glimpses over the costume again, only this time he's absolutely scandalised.

His lips are pursed and unimpressed. "A vampire?"

"Yeah! Come on, it's pretty accurate, isn't it?"

God's a funny guy, he really does love his irony.

"It's the most imprecise thing I've ever seen in my life," Nico deadpans. There's truth behind his words. He can't believe that anyone would think vampires would look like that. And don't get Nico wrong here, he doesn't particularly enjoy his life with demon blood running through his veins but this whole portrayal is, in fact, mildly insulting.

"Oh, and how would you know?" Will snarks, Nico feels like laughing.

"I'm a vampire."

Nico retracts his fangs as evidence. Lets them peek out the edges of his lips.

Will scoffs, "You insult my costume and all you do is wear fangs?"

Nico makes his eyes flicker blood red. "What about now?"

"Trick of the light?"

With a sigh, Nico grabs Will's hand forcing himself to act at human speed. He takes Will's open palm and places it against his own chest, underneath the lapels of his leather jacket.

Though there's no heartbeat, the EDM certainly does more than enough to make up for it.

Will gulps when he plants his hand a little more pressingly, feeling around for any sort of rhythm within Nico's chest.

"So um," Will begins, and Nico grins smugly, "I've never been with a vampire before."

And just like that, in three seconds flat, Nico's smug grin just collapses.

"I originally came here to kill you."

Will frowns. "Look I can appreciate some kinks but I draw the line at necrophilia."

Nico splutters. He never splutters.

Then, the blond burst out laughing and wheezing and clutching at Nico's jacket that it's almost as enraging as it is charming.

It's so strange because Nico's never gotten a reaction like this before. Never.

"What? Why are you laughing?" he demands which teeters on the edge of being desperate.

"Cause of you," Will claims between breaths, looking like an absolute loon under the flashing lights and the tears in his eyes, "Cause you think you're so intimidating."

"I am intimidating."

"Whatever, dude. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Oh wait, do you sleep upside-down?"

"If you know what's best for you you'll shut up right now."

"Oh my god, are you thralling me?"

Nico finds that particularly interesting, that ability hadn't even crossed his mind once since his encounter. He hated using it anyway.

"Why is it that I look more like legitimate vampire than you do? And you're the actual, legitimate vampire—"

Nico has had enough, so he steps forward in a flash and has Will flush against the wall. Nico's fingers weave themselves into his curls, and coil together slightly to that he can roughly tilt it to the side. Exposing his neck.

The skin looks so supple. Nico can practically hear that blood roaring in the veins. So fresh.

Will gasps as Nico leans in to the groove of his neck.

"Want to know what a legitimate vampire really looks like?" Nico breaths, icy cold against his neck. Goosebumps ripple over his nape.

"I believe you," Will says, Nico grins at the fear.

"Good," Nico says before he swoops in.

He presses an impossibly sweet, gentle kiss against his throat. Cool lips brushing against warm skin.

Will is practically shaking.

Until suddenly, Nico pulls away to face Will dead in the eyes, with a gaze that is blood red and pupils narrowed into vertical slits.

"Cause god fucking help me if you don't turn that music down right now I will actually bite you."

AN:
I swear too much to be healthy