Post by Griff on May 26, 2013 0:46:18 GMT 10
Title: Coven of Conte
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 695
Pairing: George/Roger
Round/Fight: 2B
Summary: (Vampire AU pt.3) George gets answers
It wasn’t Jon’s fault he had blue-eyes that glowed when the sunlight struck them just right, or that he had the good sense to wear a raincoat in August and he had been born with more money than god to ensure it was worth several thousand dollars, but George decided he could hold his ill-advised attempt at facial hair against him with every burning piece of his wretched little soul.
If it weren’t for Alanna, he probably would have hospitalized Jonathan Conte based on his looks alone, but with the same entitled stubbornness that she managed everything else, she stormed between them and sent her boyfriend to go sulk in the car while she figured out why her best friend had lost his mind.
George felt guilty about how much blood was gushing from Jon’s nose until he remembered Alanna’s car had handled way more blood on the passenger seat, and dedicated himself to being surly and interrogating her with every angry question she shot back. Eventually, logic presided over them both as George realized that Jon, while tall, broad, and eerily charming, was far too young to be his monster.
Alanna was unimpressed with his description of her boyfriend and told him to shut his mouth and keep his issues to himself for five minutes while she built him a social life. She made him pay for trashy cheap liquor like only back porch taverns could manage when there wasn’t proper police oversight and he watched Jon’s mind process the world around him at lightning speed when Rispah and George’s other girls drifted by as the night began, handing in dues from the night before and heading back out with a kiss on his cheek.
He couldn’t give a damn if Jonathan Conte thought he was a two-bit pimp; he’d been called worse. Heck, he was worse, but the working girls were under his protection and if he had to throw a few bodies in the river to keep it that way, it was worth his cousin’s smile after a long night.
What he hadn’t expect was for Jon to show up outside his house less than a week after their strained first meeting with an old photo album in hand and a serious expression he’d never seen before. That when George got the explanation he’d always wanted. The explanation that, frankly, he needed. It included witchcraft, magic, and calling his attacker a monster that went bump in the night was probably the most accurate definition for ‘vampire’ he could have come up with that didn’t include cheap hollywood screams.
Roger Conte wasn’t hundreds of years old. According to Jon, he was pushing one hundred, but still had a decade or so to go before he hit the bit 1-00. It had taken the family decades to realize Roger’s particularly good genes weren’t what kept him young and viral, but by Jon’s 10th birthday, when his father was well beyond gray and moving quickly into geriatric, the questions started rising. The Contes had been involved in witchcraft for as long as their family history lasted, but Roald Conte had put aside the arts when he lost his father, brothers, and mother in a tragic accident. It hadn’t deterred his nephew whose interest in the arts only magnified after it decimated his young life.
George couldn’t have realize how big of a difference it made having a name, no matter how many holes there were in the story Jonathan provided. The pictures, however, sent him reeling. There, in bright color photo, was that same long-tooth smile he had scarred into his neck. It chilled him to realize the little boy curled in his lap, arms wrapped tight around his cousin’s - cousin, gods above - neck, was the same serious young man watching him now.
Jon left leaving behind a sense of peace and one photo of Roger the family knew was before he turned. The glint in his eye was no different as a human, but his smile was less sharp, and filled with human ambition.
Three hours later, when the sun went down, Roger Conte knocked on his door and his life changed again.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 695
Pairing: George/Roger
Round/Fight: 2B
Summary: (Vampire AU pt.3) George gets answers
It wasn’t Jon’s fault he had blue-eyes that glowed when the sunlight struck them just right, or that he had the good sense to wear a raincoat in August and he had been born with more money than god to ensure it was worth several thousand dollars, but George decided he could hold his ill-advised attempt at facial hair against him with every burning piece of his wretched little soul.
If it weren’t for Alanna, he probably would have hospitalized Jonathan Conte based on his looks alone, but with the same entitled stubbornness that she managed everything else, she stormed between them and sent her boyfriend to go sulk in the car while she figured out why her best friend had lost his mind.
George felt guilty about how much blood was gushing from Jon’s nose until he remembered Alanna’s car had handled way more blood on the passenger seat, and dedicated himself to being surly and interrogating her with every angry question she shot back. Eventually, logic presided over them both as George realized that Jon, while tall, broad, and eerily charming, was far too young to be his monster.
Alanna was unimpressed with his description of her boyfriend and told him to shut his mouth and keep his issues to himself for five minutes while she built him a social life. She made him pay for trashy cheap liquor like only back porch taverns could manage when there wasn’t proper police oversight and he watched Jon’s mind process the world around him at lightning speed when Rispah and George’s other girls drifted by as the night began, handing in dues from the night before and heading back out with a kiss on his cheek.
He couldn’t give a damn if Jonathan Conte thought he was a two-bit pimp; he’d been called worse. Heck, he was worse, but the working girls were under his protection and if he had to throw a few bodies in the river to keep it that way, it was worth his cousin’s smile after a long night.
What he hadn’t expect was for Jon to show up outside his house less than a week after their strained first meeting with an old photo album in hand and a serious expression he’d never seen before. That when George got the explanation he’d always wanted. The explanation that, frankly, he needed. It included witchcraft, magic, and calling his attacker a monster that went bump in the night was probably the most accurate definition for ‘vampire’ he could have come up with that didn’t include cheap hollywood screams.
Roger Conte wasn’t hundreds of years old. According to Jon, he was pushing one hundred, but still had a decade or so to go before he hit the bit 1-00. It had taken the family decades to realize Roger’s particularly good genes weren’t what kept him young and viral, but by Jon’s 10th birthday, when his father was well beyond gray and moving quickly into geriatric, the questions started rising. The Contes had been involved in witchcraft for as long as their family history lasted, but Roald Conte had put aside the arts when he lost his father, brothers, and mother in a tragic accident. It hadn’t deterred his nephew whose interest in the arts only magnified after it decimated his young life.
George couldn’t have realize how big of a difference it made having a name, no matter how many holes there were in the story Jonathan provided. The pictures, however, sent him reeling. There, in bright color photo, was that same long-tooth smile he had scarred into his neck. It chilled him to realize the little boy curled in his lap, arms wrapped tight around his cousin’s - cousin, gods above - neck, was the same serious young man watching him now.
Jon left leaving behind a sense of peace and one photo of Roger the family knew was before he turned. The glint in his eye was no different as a human, but his smile was less sharp, and filled with human ambition.
Three hours later, when the sun went down, Roger Conte knocked on his door and his life changed again.