stilljustandrew | [ainmhianverse] same as it ever was

"Really? But angels are supposed to be...good?"

He's aware of archangels a vague sense. He went to bible school as a kid. That was a long time ago. His memory is fuzzy.

"Which one? Can you say his name?"

Oh, he can. It'll just take him a moment.

And at least two failed attempts, in which he opens his mouth but can't make his voice work.

"Lucifer," he says finally, low but very clear.

Max sucks in a shocked breath. Lucifer Holy shit. Holy fuck. No, nothing holy about it. Christ almighty, no wonder Andrew is so... FUCK.

Max can't think of a single thing to say. So, he pulls Andrew into another hug instead, crushing him to his chest and holding him there like he'll never, ever let go. And also, to say he will never ever let that son of a bitch touch Andrew again.

He isn't expecting the hug, and it knocks the breath out of him a little -- but he buries his face in Max's chest and clings.

It's a good feeling, being held like this. Being pinned in place, tightly, securely, like the arms around him won't ever let go. He could melt into this hug and just ... stay, pretty much as long as he's allowed to.

"I can't begin to imagine the things he did to you," Max whispers in Andrew's ear, still clutching him tight, "And I'd never ask you to relive those memories just to tell me. But I promise you, I'll never let him take you back. You're mine now and I'll keep you safe."

A memory of his own floats back to the surface at these words...

"They will not have his blood... Take him to the manor. He belongs to me now."

Max had always understood that his master, Erik, took him in to save him. That was always made crystal clear. The vampire always seemed perfectly happy with the arrangement. But, sometimes, Max could feel a weight between them, in the small looks of pity or the vampire's furtive frowns when he thought Max's mind was elsewhere. A hint of sorrow, regret, that Max could never quite place. Max thinks he understands now what his master was feeling that night.

Fiercely protective and agonizingly guilty for knowing the only way to save a life is to take it for himself.

But unlike Erik, Max has a plan to set his Pet free. He just needs time.

"Lucifer has no control over you anymore. Do you understand?"

He nods against Max's chest, whispers a muffled yes.

Oh, there are so many things he could say to that, and at least some of them he probably should -- but right now none of them seem to matter. You're mine now and I'll keep you safe, those are the only words that matter, and he sinks into them and clutches them close like a second embrace.

Max can feel the bonds strengthening almost like a physical chain, being built link by link. The right, touch, the right words, the right actions...they strengthen the chain. They tighten the shackles. By the end of today, he intends to make them unbreakable. He has to.

"I'm glad I know this now. I'm glad you told me. I'm so sorry for all the things he must have put you through... I'll be a better master than he was. I won't hurt you. Not ever. And I won't make you hurt anyone else.

"I want you to have the closest thing possible to a normal life here. That's what I want."

"Thank you."

Andrew stirs in his arms, lifts his head.

"I'll tell you everything," he says, a touch muffled. "I will, I promise. I want to. It's just ... some of it's hard, and there's so much of it."

"I know," Max soothes. His hand strokes gently at Andrew's hair. "I don't want to overwhelm you too much. So, we'll take it a little at a time. And I'll tell you more about me too. Okay?"

He finally draws back so he can look Andrew in the face better. "Can you tell me what you were doing for a living before you got taken to that other world? Did you have a job in California?"

"I ... I'd moved to New York by then," he says slowly. "Sort of. Half in New York and half at the Academy in the UK. I was ..." A long breath. "See, this is why I asked before about supernatural creatures. I was working with people who fight them."

As he talks, his gaze drops to his hands in his lap, but at the same time he becomes a little more animated. This is something he knows, an explanation he's given countless times, until it's grown smooth in his mouth.

"There's ... in that world there's something called a Vampire Slayer. There used to be only one in every generation, there's a lot of them now. She -- it's always a girl -- she's got superhuman strength, agility, perception, and she has all these things so she can slay vampires. And for centuries there was an organization called the Watchers' Council, who studied the lore and kept diaries of each Slayer's life, and assigned one Watcher to train and look after each Slayer. I ... I was working with the New Watchers' Council, at the Slayers' Academy. After all the potential Slayers got Called at once, and we needed to train as many as we could all togther."

A beat. "That was one of my jobs. That was the bigger one. The other one was ... a little group of supernatural troubleshooters in New York City. I was sort of support staff for them."

He soaks all that in with a carefully neutral expression on his face. How strange. Worlds can be so similar in some ways and so different in others.

"I take it vampires are still maintaining secrecy in your world and killing people? Otherwise, why would you need to hunt them?" He's not really mad about that. Vampires are, well, bloodsuckers. They might be tame in Max's own world, but he remembers the stories of how it was before the Accords.

"We have an organization in my world, too, that handles the supernatural, but it's all done officially, and with full public knowledge. We call it IOPSA."

He nods at the question about vampires and secrecy. "I mean a lot of people know, there's this whole sort of subculture that knows about vampires and demons and magic and everything, but ... most people don't, and think none of it's real."

And he hesitates before saying "I didn't know any of it was real until I was like fifteen. And there was a lot of it in my town."

Max nods. Yes, there's a subculture around such things in his world too. There are even establishments that cater to the curiosity of tourists who want to see a vampire but in a nice and safe fashion.

And then, beyond that, there are actually people in his world that simply refuse to acknowledge any of it as real. They stick their heads in the sand and pretend they can't see it. Max isn't sure which group is more foolish.

"What happened when you were fifteen? How did you find out?"

A faint, distant smile. "My brother ..."

He has to stop for a moment at the unexpected pain in his throat, like the word brother had some hidden barb in it. Without thinking he reaches for his coffee mug and takes a swallow; the bitterness and heat make him wince, but it clears his throat to keep talking.

"My older brother, Tucker. He got into all of it before I did. And one day out of the blue, he just said hey, show you something. And he summoned up this tiny, tiny little water demon, in an empty mayonnaise jar, and then banished it again. And I was like: most amazing thing ever, right? And then he said there was more to it, a lot more, and he ... he showed me which books were the real deal, and how I could use what was in them, and ... "

That smile again, painful and nostalgic all at once.

"And that was where it started," he finishes.

There's something more to this. He can hear it in Andrew's voice, see it in the nervous gestures. The way he talks... makes it sound like the beginning of the end.

"Did something happen to him?" Max asks quietly.

"Not ... not last I heard from him." Very soft. "Just, that was a while ago. I think he's okay? Probably? But we haven't, I mean, even before I ... before I left. Hadn't talked in a while."

He shrugs, small and resigned. "I don't know if he even knows I'm gone."

A wave of relief washes over him. It's not great to hear Andrew and his brother have, by the sounds of it, a strained relationship but that sure beats some of the alternatives.

"I'm sorry to hear it. Sometimes things just... don't work out. But, then, family can be what you make for yourself too, right? I think you'll find people here who care for you." Max already does. "I know it won't be the same, but it's something."

For a moment he doesn't look up; then it's a slow uncertain glance from lowered eyes, halfway to wary, as though there's some implication in Max's words that he hasn't quite grasped and isn't sure he wants to.

"People," he echoes.

"Yeah..." Andrew looks so wary. What does he think Max means by this?

"I mean like friends." Andrew would like more friends, wouldn't he?

"I'm your," he hesitates only briefly, "Master. You aren't allowed to let anyone else take my place as that. But you should still learn to socialize. Wouldn't you like that?"

"But I ..."

But I'm yours now, is what he wants to say, aren't I supposed to be yours now? Only he can't explain even to himself why that feels like it stands against the entire concept of other people. People who -- who might --

He grasps hold of the one definite thing Max says, you aren't allowed to let anyone else take my place as that, and it feels like a life raft.

"If you want me to," he says, and that's firmer, if still unsteady. "Are, are there any ... any other people who belong to you?"

"Not the way you're thinking of, no."

There's a pang of sadness in his chest. Andrew looks so distraught just at the idea of meeting others. But that's not good. Max can't be the only person he ever socializes with. He may have to go slow, Max realizes, but they will get him out there.

"I have people I care about and who care about me. Friends, lovers, people who are both. That's what I'd like you to be able to have too. But not because I told you to. I want you to... have meaningful relationships for yourself."

Andrew swallows hard, and closes his eyes.

Very small, almost inaudible: "What if they try to make me leave you."

(His tone doesn't sound like a question at all, as though the if means when.)

Max looks ill. He takes another sip of his coffee to both fill the lengthening silence and wet his suddenly dry mouth.

It's only a matter of time. He knows it because he's lived it. It didn't take long after people found out what he was, for them to start trying to convince him to forsake his Master forever. And that was with his master being far away. Max is here. He is actively participating in it.

What will his friends and family think of him doing the one thing he swore he'd never do? Will they understand his reasons?

"Maybe it would be best if we didn't tell anyone about the true nature of our relationship. If they don't know then the won't try to interfere." He feels queasy just suggesting it, but he needs time. This needs to come to light in a controlled manner.

Andrew, for his part, knows because he's lived it too.

His eyes snap open wide at the suggestion, and he nods quickly, eagerly, seizing on the solution. "I won't, I won't tell anyone. I can -- I can keep a secret, I promise --"

It'll mean anyone else he meets here won't know what he really is, he realizes. But ... maybe he can live with that, this time. Maybe it'll be all right if only Max knows what he is, and still wants him.

"Okay. Good. And... just to be safe I..." He takes a deep breath. "I order you to keep this secret from everyone."

It still makes him sick to do it like that, but it is the safest way.

"If anyone tries to press you on it, you can tell them that we are in a relationship but that it's not exclusive. They can talk to me if they have concerns. Will that be okay?"

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