Title: Of the Divine and Folklore

Summary:"Vampires don't exist, so how can one be sleeping in my bed?" Poor Matthew. Little does he know that his life is about to be put through a cement mixer. Arthur/Matthew. Ludwig/Feliciano. Other pairings also.

Disclaimer: I do not own and never will.

Warning: Slash, don't like don't read.

A/N: Cindi! My story has vampires but has nothing to do with Twilight. You're going to kill me. ^o^ If I go anywhere near Twilight it's going to be through ignorance. I've not read the books or watched the films. Actually the whole thing passed me by. Hahaha. (That sounded a little evil. O_o)

Anyway, read and hopefully enjoy.

…

Another days work, another lousy pay package.

Matthew inwardly sighed as he walked next to his friend and work colleague, Feliciano, while pretending to pay attention to the constant flow of announcements concerning pasta. It was half ten at night, freezing cold, and all Matthew wanted to do was go to bed after a huge mug of hot chocolate.

After that work day from hell, he deserved it.

Bidding Feliciano a good night, Matthew walked up eighteen levels worth of stairs as both elevators in his apartment building were both out of use due to maintenance. Feliciano lived just down the road so distance was no hindrance for their friendship. In fact, more often than not, Feliciano descended on Matthew's apartment to cook him pasta.

However, by the time that Matthew had hit the tenth floor, his breathing was becoming labored and all thoughts of Feliciano and pasta were long gone. By the time he had hit fifteen he was beginning to curse his bad luck for the out of service elevators. When he got to his level though, instead of feeling relieved, he felt a stab of panic race through him.

His apartment door had been forced open, and though it was still closable, it just was not lockable. Matthew blinked in surprise. Was his luck that bad that when he was out barely scrapping a living for himself, someone had robbed him of what little he had in possessions?

Matthew approached the door. He went against every ounce of sense he had by not running away and alerting the authorities. Hell, even running to Feliciano had more sense to it than what he was doing now as he stepped across the threshold of his pitch black apartment.

Search with his hands across the wall to find the light switch for the kitchen, he found it and switched it on. He thought that his kitchen would be bare or have five huge muscular men ready to beat him to death. Instead, he found everything exactly where he left it, right down to the half drunk stone cold coffee sat in the side with a tea spoon sticking out of it.

Matthew's brows furrowed.

Strange.

He walked out of the kitchen and further into his apartment, now armed with a knife just in case. The next room was the living room. He pressed the switch, but no light came from the light bulb. It had been smashed in the intruder's haste.

Matthew remained stood in the light from the kitchen that fell into the room, gripping the knife tightly. He never noticed a pair of astute eyes watching his every movement.

"Hello?" Matthew asked the room. No answer. He tried again to the same response. His eyes were slightly adjusting to the darkness of the room when he spotted a dark mass in the corner. The dark mass was not apart of his furniture. Matthew was one hundred percent sure of it.

"Who are you?" Matthew demanded, though it came out more as a quiet request. Holding his weapon higher, Matthew inched closer. To his surprise, he saw that it was a young man with the body language of one who has been hurt awfully. The light that slipped in through the window from the night outside, though not much, allowed Matthew to make out some of the intruders features now that his eyes were adjusting more to the darkness.

The young man, not much older than himself by Matthew's eye, was curled up in the darkest corner, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head resting against the wall. As Matthew approached cautiously, always ready to leap back and run for the door, the young man looked up at him. Huge emerald orbs met astonishing blue orbs.

Matthew felt the fear of this man seep out of him through his feet and into the floor boards. The young man in front of him looked ill. Matthew thought that he looked unable to stand up, let alone have enough power to propel himself forward and attack him.

Leaning his head to the side, Matthew knelt down next to him, ignoring his instincts to run and hide since what he felt was not fear. Something wasn't sitting right with him about the man in front of him, but he ignored it as he spoke softly to him.

"You okay?" Dumb question but he felt it had to be asked.

"Anyone follow you?" The young man asked, his British accent thick as he visibly tensed.

Matthew thought that the question was odd, but humored it all the same and replied with an honest, "no."

The young man visibly relaxed with that single word. Matthew found himself asking himself if he was being chased. Disregarding his curiosity for another time, Matthew found himself wondering what he should do. Who was this man? And what had he done to warrant breaking and entering? His mind kept screaming 'hiding' at him, but Matthew refused to jump to conclusions. He tried to see the best in everyone he met, though some times he was truly pushed in that philosophy.

The young man's eyes kept glancing towards the window. Matthew found it curious. What was he looking for, especially on the eighteenth level of an apartment building?

"Are you sure?" Spoke the man again.

"Yes. Positive." Matthew answered.

The man nodded his head slightly, his hair moving up and down the wall since he had not raised his head from its resting position to give the gesture. Complete exhaustion took a hold of his limbs as he danced on the edge of unconsciousness. Matthew saw this as he watched the man trying to fight a loosing battle to keep his eyes open.

Thinking quickly, Matthew helped the young man to his feet before proceeding to drag him across the living room to his bedroom. He couldn't find it in him to deprave the young man of a soft warm bed when he was that tired and pained. Matthew, on this one occasion, was prepared to settle for the couch. His sense and logic wanted to know what he was doing; inviting this stranger to stay in his home, but Matthew found himself unable to turn him away. If compassion was a crime, then he was guilty.

Matthew deposited the young man, who was very heavy despite his sparrow like figure, in his bed and pulled the covers over him. No words were spoken as the young man had fallen asleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow.

Retreating from the room after closing the black out curtains, Matthew kept asking himself, 'what have I just done? What possessed me?' He went back to the entrance of his bedroom and watched the man sleeping peacefully for a small while. This was only to compose and assure himself. The stranger looked completely harmless and, as Matthew kept reminding himself, vulnerable.

Matthew knew he was too trusting, he had fallen foul of it before, but something felt right about the young man; at least right enough to make Matthew reasonably sure that he wasn't going to be murdered in his sleep.

Sitting down heavily on the sofa after closing the door and placing a chair against it, (at least the effort was there concerning security), Matthew dozed for the remainder of the night, always conscious of the stranger residing in his room.

Come morning, Matthew felt terrible. It was his day off from the coffee shop down the road where he worked with Feliciano and, stretching, found himself grateful for the time to himself. His back ached and his legs and shoulders protested something rotten.

Walking stiffly to his room, Matthew peeped in to see the still slumbering stranger. Matthew looked down at his watch. 9:47am. He decided that he might want breakfast so waking him was naturally the thing to do. Also because he didn't want to wake him by shaking him (because he didn't know what the reaction could be and he was still very cautious), Matthew crossed the room with the intention of opening the curtains.

"Please, don't open the curtains." The sound of the British accented voice stopped Matthew in his tracks. He already had the curtains in his hands but with those words he immediately let go of the material and turned to face the stranger. He wore a concerned expression as he saw the pale, tired face and striking green eyes that were looking at him.

"Okay." Matthew replied as he moved away again. He couldn't help but notice how weak the young man was. He raised only an arm in protest to the Canadian's actions.

As Matthew walked back out the room, the idea of rousing the young man being chucked in the bad ideas garbage bin in his mind, he realized that he didn't even know his name yet. As he turned to ask though he realized that he had fallen asleep again.

Matthew took this opportunity to really study the young man. He still remembered how cold he was to the touch as he dragged him from the floor to the bed. His too pale skin, his blonde hair sprawled across the pillow, he even noticed how his lips were slightly parted revealing pearl white teeth. Two of the teeth seemed a little pointy though. Too pointy. Matthew moved closer to take a closer look and noticed how sharp and pointed the two teeth on the upper row were.

Matthew pulled back and quickly left the room, his mind racing.

"Vampires don't exist, so how can one be sleeping in my bed?"

TBC …

A/N: Isn't Matthew so kind! ^o^