[Fic] baby, we've got a long way home (Blade)
- Fandom: Blade (Movies 1998 - 2004)
- Pairing: Drake/Hannibal King
- Tags: Canon-Divergence
- Word-Count: 571
- Status: Complete
- First Published: 2024-07-30
- Disclaimer: I do not own Blade (Movies 1998 - 2004) and make no profit from this—it is solely a hobby for fun, with no financial compensation.
Summary:
Hannibal would make a great concubine. But he definitely isn't one. Definitely.
Notes:
Written for Small Fandom Fest - Round 35. Prompt: Blade: Trinity, Drake/Hannibal King, concubine
Work Text:
"A, I would be a awesome concubine," Hannibal defends his honor, straightening up and eyeing Drake. "And I am flattered you'd ask me, but B, I am currently living a fulfilling life as a hunter of lawless beasts and am C, in the middle of a time-sensitive mission, so I'd appreciate it if you'd skedaddle." After a moment, during which Drake does not much an inch, Hannibal waves his hand. "Come on, shoo," he adds, but Drake just continues staring at him and look, Drake is really hot, okay. And he just said as my concubine they wouldn't dare hurt you as if Hannibal is his concubine Which he is not. For the record.
Probably.
Okay, so Drake is a vampire of unknown origin that's been hanging around Hannibal for months now, and Hannibal is making the best of things. Which includes dragging the vampire with him to the movie theater, or being dragged by Drake to the opera and than a hip-hop concert, as well as using Drake to go to fancy restaurants because Drake always insists on paying and look, Hannibal is not above taking advantage of that, okay. Anyway, the point is, sometimes he says things he perhaps shouldn't, and sometimes he's not precisely listening when Drake speaks—he's too busy staring at Drake and having unholy fantasies—and he sort of just agrees with whatever Drake said.
So he might have, sort, maybe, accidentally agreed to be Drake's concubine.
Maybe.
At some point. Anyway, the point is "You're in the way."
Drake levels him with a calm gaze, and pushes off the wall, stalking closer in a rather menacing manner. All the gaudy jewelry that Hannibal has been buying him kind of ruins the effect though, especially with the clashing clothes and fancy manicured nails. Hannibal did not actually think Drake would agree to get a manicure, and that's on him; now a little part of him dies inside every time he glances at Drake. From the hotness, of course.
Drake is just very, very hot, and Hannibal is but a man; he looks at Drake and he kind of whimpers sometimes, and then Drake smirks, and then Hannibal has to get urgently called away on a super urgent mission lest he do something stupid. Like jump Drake's bones, or something.
"I could offer you a hand, my dear," Drake smoothly says, in his stupidly deep voice, and Hannibal shivers. He shakes his head. Drake smirks, and Hannibal looks away, clearing his throat. Picks up a knife and puts it in it's holster, refusing the contribute to the staring contest Drake is attempting to start.
"This is a super, super important mission right up my alley. No assistance required." Hannibal smiles, and he pats Drake's shoulder, crumbling into dust inside when he feels the strong muscles under his hands, and he clears his throat again. Pulls his hand back before Drake can grab it—he's done that before, and then he smiles, and then before Hannibal knows it they're out at some fancy place face, eating or drinking or playing chess. In a tournament. And winning. Look, the point is, Drake is a hazard to Hannibal's health, and he needs to skedaddle before he gets roped into something again.
"Don't wait up for me, darling," he says, and runs out of the apartment that he lives in with Drake. And fuck.
When did they start living together?