Antarctica-or-bust (rata_toskr) wrote,

Good Intentions, Better Alibis

Title: Good Intentions, Better Alibis
Fandom: Hemlock Grove
Series: the Happy Ending Verse
Pairings: Peter/Roman
Warnings: nothing worth mentioning
Word Count: 1881
Disclaimer: If I owned it, Peter and Roman would make out.
Summary: Roman isn't very good at refusing Peter anything.

“Can't I just stay in the car?” Roman asks plaintively, looking out the window at the crowd of strangers in the yard.

He loves Peter, he really does, and Lynda is amazing, but that doesn't mean he wants to meet the rest of his boyfriend's family now. There are far too many people out there for the Upir to feel comfortable even if a combination of Peter's blood and his mother's drugs keeps the hunger satisfied.

But one look at the werewolf's face tells Roman that protesting is pointless; he'll give in the way he always does when Peter pouts like that.

“Come on, Roman. Don't be a pansy. Even if they wanted to hurt you, there are rules about funerals and most of the guests are too damn old anyway,” his boyfriend says with an exasperated roll of his eyes. Peter looks utterly domestic standing there barefoot in the grass with Anţă balanced lightly one hip and all the Upir wants to do is debauch the other man again

To him the real Peter will always be the one who licks blood from his fingers as he thrusts into Roman, the one who runs wild as a wolf beneath the harvest moon, and it's always a little strange to see his boyfriend wearing the pretense of normality upon his skin.

But that's the same compromise the Upir makes to hide the truth of his breeding and he loves this version of Peter as deeply as he loves all the rest. Roman doesn't know how he ever lived without the werewolf; he doesn't want to think about what he would have become if the other man had left him back when Letha died, and attending one gypsy funeral seems a small price to pay in order to keep Peter at his side.

Although, gypsy funerals do pose their own dangers, full of octogenarians or not, and so Roman finds himself asking, “Just... are you sure they won't object to the whole Upir thing?”

“I'd like to see them try,” his boyfriend growls, eyes flashing yellow for an instant, and the Upir really does have to kiss him then.

Roman tangles his hand in Peter's ridiculous hair, pulling the other man's head through the car's open window so that he can press their lips together and he swears that he can taste the wolf on Peter's tongue. It makes his body burn with a different sort of hunger than the Upir's usual blood lust, but the gypsy pulls back long before he's satisfied.

“All right, come on then,” Peter murmurs, the whisper of desire in his voice making Roman grin. But his boyfriend has always been too damn stubborn so he doesn't lean back in like his clearly wants to do. Instead he steps away from the car, far enough that Roman can't grab hold of him again.

“Enough dawdling. Mom wants to show off her granddaughter and I want to shove my smoking hot boyfriend in my cousins' faces 'til they choke.”

“You don't get along then?” the Upir asks, finally stepping out of the car. He doesn't bother to lock it since that would stop exactly no one here and it's not like there's anything important in that piece of junk anyway. The most important things in Roman's life are smiling up at him right now and he holds out his hands to take Anţă while Peter considers his reply.

“Bag of dicks, the lot of them,” the gypsy finally says, smirking when the Upir chokes on a laugh. “Well, except for Destiny. We bonded over our shared freakishness while the rest of our cousins were being assholes growing up.”

“Really? I thought all that magic mumbo-jumbo was normal for you people,” Roman replies, poking at Peter just to see him roll his eyes.

“Fuck, but you're an ignorant bastard, aren't you?” his boyfriend groans, though he's grinning when he grabs the Upir's hand and leads him up the steps to his great-uncle's house. “You should thank my cousins for giving me such a high tolerance for assholes or I would have dumped you months ago.”

“You know you love me.”

“Of course I do,” Peter says with a shrug. “But I never claimed to have good taste in men.”

Roman's bark of laughter echoes loudly through the yard, drawing disapproving frowns from several of the gypsies standing around outside. But if those are the same people who called his boyfriend freakish, the Upir really doesn't care what they think of him.

Although, speaking of cousins, “Destiny isn't coming, is she? I swear that woman wants to wear my entrails as a hat.”

Roman is entirely serious because Destiny is fucking terrifying, though Peter just finds his fears hilarious. This time is no different, the werewolf wrapping an arm around his boyfriend's waist and promising to protect him from the big bad fortune teller before pulling Roman into the house to greet his extended family.

However, when Destiny finally does arrive, slamming through the door with her usual flair, she's more interested in the bathroom than cutting out the Upir's lungs. Of course that probably has more to do with the incredibly attractive man she finds there than any sudden love of Roman – the Upir may be deliriously happy with Peter but that doesn't mean he's blind and the gypsy's relatives are just ridiculous.

Well, not all of them. The werewolf's great-uncle is pretty blah as far as corpses went. Admittedly, the Upir hadn't been expecting the body to be all dressed up and ready for a handshake – gypsies apparently going more for the “might get up at any moment” look than the whole coffin thing.

That's different, Roman thinks with some amusement, though he has to admit that he prefers this funeral over the depressing somberness that he remembers from when his father died. This seems almost like a party and if he still gets the impression that neither he nor Peter is entirely welcome, no one says anything. They're all too busy cooing over Anţă or choking on spit when the werewolf introduces the Upir as “my boyfriend, Roman Godfrey,” both men taking a slightly vicious pleasure in their disbelief.

So really, this funeral isn't nearly as bad as Roman was expecting and it may get a whole lot better soon. Because Peter has been driving him crazy with little touches and heated sidelong glances and if the Upir can convince Lynda to take her granddaughter for a while, he doesn't see any reason why he and the werewolf shouldn't follow Destiny's example – finding some quiet corner where they can fuck.

If Destiny and her man are any indication, they don't even need a corner as long as a wall's unoccupied and this seems as good a time as any for Roman to show Peter the merits of semi-public sex. The Upir will even keep it relatively tame so that they don't bleed all over some dead guy's furniture.

However, Roman has just tracked down Lynda in the yard outside when everything suddenly goes to shit. With the piercing screech of sirens, half a dozen unmarked cars appear around the yard, FBI agents pouring out onto the grass with weapons drawn. The gypsies scatter, some taking off on foot toward the woods while others run toward their vehicles, a few lucky souls escaping through holes in the agents' net. But the FBI is rounding up far more people then it's losing, Peter's relatives handcuffed and thrown roughly to the ground.

Though, strangely enough, Roman is an island of calm amidst the chaos of the raid. None of the agents have come near him, maybe because of the baby in his arms or maybe because he's too ridiculously white to look like he belongs. However, the rest of his small family isn't as lucky, the Upir watching in horror as Lynda is grabbed by two agents on her way back to his side.

“Mom!” Peter runs past in a blur, laying out one of the men holding his mother with a solid punch before the other throws him to the ground. The agent pulls out his gun, pointing it at the werewolf like he actually plans to shoot him and that's when Roman snaps.

Stop!” he shouts and then they do – gypsies and FBI alike. Everyone freezes, turning toward the Upir like moths to candle flame.

Roman hasn't used his powers much since changing; he's rarely had a reason to and Peter always worries that they'll cause him pain like they did before. But there's no pain now, only a rush of power, because he is Upir and these lives are his to do with as he will.

It would be so easy to kill them; they would come to him willingly if he just ordered it and he could sate himself on blood and carnage until his beast was satisfied.

But then Peter gets up, the werewolf unaffected by the spell that holds the others, and when he takes Roman's arm, the Upir remembers that he's more than blood lust now. Roman isn't that kind of monster and no one will be dying at his hands today.

So he releases the gypsies from his power, shifting his focus to the FBI agents and ordering, “You will let them go. You will get back into your cars and return to whatever dingy little break room spawned this raid. You will tell your superiors that there was no one here; in fact, that is the only thing you will be able to say when someone asks about this day. You will leave and you will never try this shit again.

The second that the Upir finishes speaking, the agents do exactly as he ordered, releasing their prisoners and walking jerkily back to their cares. One by one, the vehicles peel out of the yard as quickly as they came, Roman keeping his guard up until the last car disappears from sight.

“Are you all right?” Peter asks when the Upir sways on his feet, the loss of control leaving him lightheaded when he lets his power go.

“Don't worry; I'm fine. In fact, I feel amazing,” Roman reassures his boyfriend. “Though I think it's probably time for us to leave.”

“Yeah, we've probably freaked out my relatives enough for one afternoon,” the werewolf agrees, sounding a bit freaked out himself. “But don't be surprised if you start getting a bunch of presents over the next few months; Rumanceks don't like owing anyone anything.”

With that Peter takes the Upir's hand and starts walking back to the car, the gypsy collecting his mother while the rest of his relatives watch them warily. Roman can't really blame them and yet he feels more at peace with his nature now than he ever has before. Because the Upir has sometimes wondered if Anţă and Peter would be better off if he were human and they could at least pretend that they were normal for twenty-seven days a month.

But Roman's powers just saved his family from being broken and the Upir's hunger is nothing next to that.


Tags: fic, fluff, happy-ending-verse*, hemlock grove, mid-series, peter/roman
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