(This is gonna be a two-part story, mainly because I put a lot of backstory into this one. Lmk if I should make this into a full story :D)

Alfred was going to rebel against his clan.
The young vampire, at only 250, had fallen in love with possibly the most gorgeous man alive. Slender, smooth skin, flawless hair, stunning blue eyes. Oh yeah, and he had the sexiest French accent known to man.
However, his origin was the only thing that made Alfred rebellious.
It had just started out as a midnight stroll through a alley in New York City.
The American vampire was technically apart of the clan from England, by blood, but his family had moved to the colonies, picking up the accent and becoming US citizens over a span of a few decades. They were the only vampires from the English clan to move to the US, that is, until Alfred's parents were killed, making him the only known American vampire.
His origins were complicated, stupid, and frankly, Alfred didn't really care. His family was never really involved in their clan in the first place, (which was known for its overbearing traditional standards) which is what caused them to leave for America. Coincidentally, that was around the same time the American Revolution had started.
Alfred continued in his walk, searching for a bite to eat, when his eyes fell upon the most gorgeous man he had ever seen sitting on a bench across the street. He had his long, blond hair tied back with an indigo ribbon, his eyes focused on a book. The street lamp illuminated his face, focused, solemn.
His relaxed eyelids blinked slowly, almost seductively, as if he knew Alfred was watching him.
Stupid sexy bastard, Alfred thought. He licked his lips, imagining how tasty his blood would be. He faded into the shadows, making his way towards the man, when something made the vampire stop dead in his tracks.
This guy smelled like...
Well, fuck. Alfred sighed.
"You cannot suck another vampire's blood, moron." The man hummed, almost tauntingly, still reading his book. His French accent gave Alfred chills.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know." Alfred said quietly, backing away. "I'll be on my way."
"Wait." The other vampire glanced up, giving Alfred a better view of his face. High cheekbones, blue eyes, a bit of stubble on his chin, pointy nose, perfect eyebrows. God this guy got sexier and sexier.
He approached Alfred, stuffing his hands in his pockets and gazing at him from every angle, intrigued. "How old are you?" He asked, pinching the American's cheeks.
"250-something." Alfred mumbled in a voice barely above a whisper. Why was this guy was making him so flustered? Augh!
"What?!" The French vampire's eyes widened. "You're so young!" He pried open Alfred's mouth, revealing his long, slightly buck-toothed fangs.
"Hm, they're too yellow for your age."
Alfred blushed at his large teeth and shut his mouth. "I drink a lot of soda..." He admitted, turning away.
The other vampire made a face that implied he hated soda.
"How old are you?" Alfred asked.
"I, ah... Lost count?"
What? How the hell old was this guy? "Well, how old were you the last time you counted?"
"One thousand." He started. "And maybe a couple hundred years. Maybe."
Alfred bowed his head in respect. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea you were that experienced. You look so much younger than your age-"
A small gasp interrupted Alfred's ramblings. The older vampire was blushing, even harder than Alfred. "That's so... I... Um." He cleared his throat and looked up at Alfred, who had forgotten that he was taller than the French vampire. "Merci. That was very nice of you to say-"
"A-Alfred!" The American stammered. "My name's Alfred F. Jones!"
"Nice to meet you, Alfred. My name is Francis Bonnefoy."
"Bonnefoy? As in the Bonnefoy clan?"
"Oui, why?"
Alfred shook his head. "I can't talk to you anymore. You're not a... My clan doesn't allow it, they, they hate you guys."
"'You guys?' Alfred, it is only me. My family is dead."
"What?"
"They were killed centuries ago by hunters. I barely escaped."
Alfred nodded. "My parents were killed by hunters too, when I was a baby. I can't imagine my whole clan though, even if I've never met them. I'm sorry that happened to you."
Francis smiled. "Well, you get over it, I guess." He reached out and held Alfred's hand. "Why is it that you can't speak to me?"
Alfred sighed. "My clan believes that since vampires from the Bonnefoy clan aren't vampires by blood, they're beneath us, they're not worthy of receiving the title vampire. I'm sorry, but it's against my clan's regulations to speak with you."
"Do you believe that I am beneath you?" Francis asked.
"Of course not!" Alfred cried. "You're older than me, and I respect you; you're in a much higher position than me. Honestly the whole 'artificial vs genuine vampire" is a load of bullshit, and my clan should get over it. It's old news."
"Well, there you go." Francis smiled.
Alfred's stomach suddenly growled. Francis laughed.
"I'll let you get something to eat before the sun comes up. Meet me here tomorrow night. Au revoir."
And just like that, his thin fangs sprouted from his gums, transforming into a bat and soaring off into the night sky, leaving Alfred blushing and in a daze. Did that just happen?