Title| Band-Aids and Fangs

Genre| romance / humor / comfort

Rating| k+ - t

Fandom| Vampire Kisses

A/N| so . . . I ship Billy Madison and Valentine Maxwell. Hell.

Billy Madison always knew that his friend, of sorts, Valentine Maxwell, was different.

Like, really, out of this world, different-different.

He even looked different with platinum hair that was whiter than it was blond, eyes greener than a cat's and skin so translucent it was as if he had never stepped into the sun his entire life.

But he was beautiful, in that startling way when one sees someone attractive. When someone looked at Valentine, they had to look again. He was like a magnet with jarring beauty and endless grace. Billy felt a little guilt as his fifteen-year-old heart beat a little faster in his chest.

True, he was attracted to Valentine's strangeness, like a lot of people were, but he had passed it off as simply see someone who differed from the norm that made Valentine attractive to him. Valentine was simply so unlike everyone else that it made Billy quiver with excitement whenever he saw him.

But he was dangerous.

Billy didn't know how, but since their first meeting a few years ago, danger just seemed to be etched in every contour of Valentine's angelic features. As he spoke about graveyards—and maybe with too much knowledge about rigor mortis and caskets—Billy was entranced but, as always, cautious.

With Raven away at college, he was forced to remember a time Valentine had tried to draw him into a blood pact ritual and how pissed he had been when it failed. The time when he saw Valentine take down one high school football player with his hands on his throat. The time when Valentine's mysterious allergy led him to a most unethical conclusion.

Needless to say, Valentine is not like most fifteen year olds.

"I think I might get my lip pierced. What do you think?" Valentine smiled at him, showing sharper than normal canines as he lay strewed across Billy's bed, scratching at the frilly sleeve of his pirate shirt than back at Billy, gaze bored and studying.

Once, Billy had gotten him to wear one of her Science Club T-shirts, but Valentine preferred to dress like a dead person from the Victorian era.

His mother had even tried to get him to dress like Valentine. It was a catching phase. The old Victorian garb that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else looked good on Valentine. From variety of black khaki shorts to the floppy bow ties, he looked rather stylish in almost anything of that nature. At long as it fitted his goth aesthetic, Valentine seemed contented with it.

It only added to his strange allure.

"Are you listening?"

The junior scientist snapped from his thoughts and clutched tighter onto the bottom of his revolving chair—a good distance from his friend on the bed. "Oh, um, a lip ring . . . I don't know. Raven wanted one of those and my mom said no."

"Yeah, but my mom wouldn't care." Valentine traced the design of a rocket ship on Billy' comforter and sighed. "You seem very out of it today." Billy blushed a bright pink.

Billy chewed his bottom lip, uncomfortably scratching at the back of his neck. "Well, I—"

"What is that thing 'round your finger?"

Billy glanced his other hand. "Oh, this? It's a Band-Aid, I cut my finger earlier. . ." Valentine sudden was sitting up, eyes locked on his hand.

"May I see it?"

Billy stared at him, feeling the blood feed to his cheeks. "Why?"

Valentine stood, his shirt smoothing out instantly, hanging off of Valentine's shapeless body in a billowy fashion. He strode towards him, rolling his sleeves into the bends of his elbows, and smiled.

Billy is instantly reminded of a predator, sleek and hungry, stalking helpless prey.

"Why do you want to?"

Valentine dropped to his knees in front of him and Billy stared.

"Oh, I just want to see." Valentine's hand curled around Billy's as he leaned over it. For a moment, Billy wanted nothing more than for Valentine to leave, or for Billy to leave himself. It was not, he noted, for the fear of Valentine, more so, he felt nervous.

"Are you gonna become a doctor?" Billy questioned, removing the bandage for him.

The pale boy laughed, but his expression contorted into one of careful concentration. "Something like that."

Valentine inspected Billy's index finger for a moment, the single three centimeter cut was red with welling blood as the skin around it was pink. Valentine's own fingers had become cold and clamped around Billy's hand in a vice. Billy stared at their joined hands for a moment; there was a pale contrast in them. Where he and Valentine's hands were the same size, Billy's was sun-darkened and freckled; Valentine's hands were alabaster and smooth.

"Valentine?"

He said nothing.

"Hey, Valenti-INE!" Billy punctuated as Valentine's wet, hot tongue licked the cut and Billy's face flushed a darker shade of pink and his eyes bugged.

His tongue slid up the cut, and Valentine hummed as if savoring the flavor of an open wound.

"Um, Valentine. . .um, wha-what are, er, you d-doing?"

Valentine looked up at him, his eyes sparked bright and he patted Billy's thigh in an attempt to comfort him. "I'm cleaning your wound." Valentine murmured lowly, returning to attempting pulling Billy's finger back to his mouth. Billy resisted and tried to jerk backward, but Valentine had a surprisingly strong grasp on Billy's wrist.

"Th-that's weird! And unsanitary! Don't do that! Stop it!"

"Shh," Valentine's palm rubbed the top of Billy's thigh soothingly; his thumb began to roll in slow circles. Billy met his eyes. "It's okay."

"No it's not. It's," He met Valentine's eyes; eyes that were always so bright and full of life. "What are you doing?" He whispered, suddenly scared.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Valentine said quietly and pulled at Billy's hand. He met no resistance.

Valentine drew Billy's finger into his mouth, and Billy watched as Valentine's eyes slide close as a low moan slipped from his mouth. Billy's face was now beat red, feeling of Valentine's teeth and tongue.

A sharp pointed tooth grazed his finger and it stung. Billy winced, sucking in a quick breath of pain. Valentine continued to rub his hand in smooth circles of Billy's thigh

Valentine's hand clasped on with his, fingers slotting against Billy's. His eyes slide open, his gaze was dark and hungry. Then he sucked.

Billy watched, entranced.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Both of the boy's jumped at the sound. Valentine's mouth opened around Billy's finger and sharpened canines having descended downward from his jaw—

Billy drew back quickly, his chair rolling into the wall in his haste.

"Billy, Valentine time for dinner." His mother called from the opposite side of the door.

"O-Oh-Okay!" Billy shouted and he waited for her footsteps to walk away. He then looked back at Valentine who had a small spot of coppery red-orange blood on his bottom lip. His tongue hovered outside of his lips and swiped it quickly away.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Billy kept his hands in his lap feeling roused and confused while Valentine stayed on his knees in front of him, looking guilty.

Just as quickly as things had taken a turn for the weirder, they switched back to normal. Valentine stood and strode towards the door.

"I'm going down for dinner." He mumbled as explanation before he opened the door. Billy stayed frozen to his chair, staring at his finger.

The cut was longer now with a puncture mark that made it wider too.

What would he say to his mother? What would he say to Valentine?

Billy waited for a moment, the back of his neck sweating, before he stepped into the hallway and into the bathroom. He ran his hand under the water for a while and quickly applied a Spider-Man Band-Aid and put pressure to the wound. He closed his eyes. That did not just happen. . .

This is a guilty pleasure sort of thing, heehee. I liked the idea and this has to be my first gay ship thing I've ever done. This may be a Three-Shot.

I made up Valentine's full name. It just sounded good together.

I picture Valentine to look like Vincent from Pandora Hearts when he was a child because Vincent was a messed up little trucker who loved blood and ripped the heads off of stuffed animals...yet he's my favorite. Look it up.