cross my heart and hope to die (epic vampire au) part two, 2/3
rating. hard r.
language, violence (not for the squeamish, vampire stuff, here), and sexual things
Gerard was brutal, about feeding and a lot of other things. He was picky—and a man on a mission. Pete had spotted (and smelledandheardandalmosttasted) at least half a dozen people worth feeding off of, and Gerard was narrowing his eyes and looking around still—insistent that they wait for each other.
Finally, as the sky was dark and the neon lights illuminated the streets, Gerard found someone. Pete grabbed the first person who smelled decent and dove into the same back alley Gerard had made for. Patrick followed Pete, sheepishly.
Gerard went first, ripping into his dinner’s throat. Pete was more delicate, taking his time and tasting, relishing in the smooth taste rolling down his throat. Patrick watched from behind, pressed flat against a wall, trying to make himself small and inconspicuous.
Pete finished first, and was on Patrick almost instantly, lips hovering over his neck and hands dancing up and down his sides—finally resting firmly on his hips—pressing him against the wall. “God, they don’t taste anything like you do. They don’t smell like you they don’t feel like you . . . They don’t trust me like you do.”
Patrick made a small noise in the back of his throat as Pete’s lips worked against his skin, fangs scraping and pressing against his skin alternatively. He tilted his head back, the best he could being so close to the wall, baring his neck for Pete. Patrick wanted it, he wanted Pete’s fangs in his throat, he wanted his blood down Pete’s throat, he wanted Pete to be so close to him that it physically hurt. His body was burning for it.
The fangs slid into his skin, and Patrick moaned, his eyes fluttering shut, and that wasn’t a good idea. Pete had already had some before, but, still.
They both wanted it.
Gerard watched, snapped into paying attention to the two by Patrick’s voice. He slipped closer, curious.
A manic grin slipped onto the elder vampire’s lips, “So you aren’t treating him like a flower . . . I’m glad to see it.” His eyes slipped from Pete to Patrick to specifics (Patrick’s shoulder, throat, collar bone, expression, lips; Pete’s fangs, lips, eyes, hands, hips).
“Pete.” Patrick whined, voice cracking—hands fumbling around, looking for a place to hold onto Pete and keep himself standing. “Pete, God, Pete.” He groaned, “I—I . . .” He sounded so desperate, like he needed it so badly. And he did, oh, he did.
Pete pulled away from his throat, a drop of blood trickling over his lips. Gerard kept the memory printed in his head, oh, the paintings.
“You’re mine, Patrick, mine.” Pete growled, low and possessively, “Don’t you ever forget that you belong to me.”
Patrick nodded, shakily, and Pete grabbed his hand and put it over his throat, “Keep it there.”
“Yeah.” Patrick whispered, voice soft and tired and worn out. Pete had bit him three times, and two of those three had been that night. He was tired, and probably lower than he should be on blood.
“Don’t worry.” Pete said, “I’m going to take care of you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, ever.”
Gerard stepped forward, “You shouldn’t make those kinds of promises to humans, Pete. Even we can’t control what happens to them sometimes.” He seemed oddly bemused as he spoke.
Pete’s eyes cut towards Gerard, “What?”
The other shrugged, “I don’t tell, Pete. You know that. I use my information for my own benefit and only my own benefit.”
Patrick slumped up against the wall, confused at the conversation. He had to remember to ask Pete later, but he didn’t know that he would. Everything was kind of getting blurry and fading out, and maybe he should just go to sleep . . .
“Come on.” Pete said, suddenly, ripped out of his conversation with Gerard, “We need to take you back so you can get some food and rest.”
“Yeah. Sounds nice.” Patrick mumbled blearily, Pete chuckled lightly as he shifted, and picked Patrick up, “Wha’s goin’ on?”
“We’re going to take the short way home. I’ve got you.” He said, as affectionately as he dared with Gerard still noting his every word and move critically.
Pete looked back at Gerard, “You coming, or are you going out for seconds?”
“I couldn’t miss up an opportunity. You two intrigue me.” The elder vampire replied, a grin revealing his fangs. “I wouldn’t miss a second of this.” He took off, and Pete followed—darting up the fire escapes to get to the roof—jumping around and getting back to Mikey and Alicia’s place in record time.
***
Pete popped a frozen TV dinner in the microwave and turned to Gerard, leaning on the counter. “What did you see?”
The elder vampire shrugged, “I told you I’m not going to tell. I’ve never even told Mikey what I’ve seen.” He explained, eyeing the microwave in distaste, “You give that to him to eat?”
“I don’t cook very well.” Pete replied, scrunching up his nose. “What happens to him? Does he get sick?”
“I don’t think you want to know, Pete.”
“Does he get sick?” Pete asked his voice as loud as he would dare in the room — he didn’t want Patrick to hear any of this.
“Yes.” Gerard said, eyes cast downwards. It was very obvious he felt he was doing Pete a big favor by saying what he was saying. “I don’t know when or with what. I saw him in the hospital. And I really don’t think you would do anything that could hurt him, or let him get hurt. I’ve seen that much from the two of you.”
Pete looked at Gerard, an unfathomable expression on his face, “When do you think?”
“You don’t have long, before. A week, two weeks?” Gerard didn’t seem all that interested, “I could tell it was very sudden.”
The younger vampire closed his eyes and sighed, “Not everything you see . . .?”
“Is set in stone.” Gerard finished boredly, “You could turn him tonight and not even have to worry about it for a second. Or you could wait, and see what happens.”
“I’m not turning him until I absolutely have to.”
“Then you should start preparing him and yourself for that. People are starting to figure out that you’re back, Pete. And you know you’ve got some enemies, we all know you do. They’re going to be after you, and they’re going to try to use Patrick to get to you.”
Pete sighed, “I know. I’ve been thinking about that. But I’m not turning him until I absolutely have to.”
Gerard was silent for a moment, “I’m almost surprised that you’re committing to turning him at all.” The microwave ‘dinged’ loudly, Pete glided over to it and grabbed the dinner and a plastic fork and took them up to Patrick.
***
“Pete, I’m tired.” Patrick mumbled sleepily, “Don’t wanna eat right now.”
“Eat. Then you can sleep.” Pete instructed, helping Patrick sit up and giving him the food tray. Obediently, Patrick started eating—in that way that somebody who was so tired, and hadn’t slept in so long would.
“Gerard was talking—“
“Don’t listen to anything Gerard says, Patrick.” Pete said softly.
“You seem worried.”
“Well I’m not. Finish eating and go back to sleep.”
Patrick, begrudgingly, went back to eating from the tray—poking around a bit, mostly just moving things around to make it look like he had eaten more (but Pete didn’t buy that, and threatened to feed him, and really). Pete just sat on the bed and watched, taking Patrick’s tray away and sitting it on the bedside table. When Pete turned back to crawl into the bed, too, Patrick was already asleep.
***
“PETER LEWIS
Pete grumbled a little before sitting up, leaning over to check on Patrick (who was still out like a light) before climbing out of the bed. “What William?”
“You ditched me! We were supposed to go shopping you jackass!”
“Gerard came for a surprise visit.” Pete said.
William’s face fell, suddenly, and he looked over to Patrick.
“What happened? Is he okay? Did Gerard do anything?” William asked in a rush of words that a human wouldn’t have been able to decipher clearly.
“He’s okay, well—Gerard didn’t get to him at least.”
William looked over to Pete reproachfully, “What did you do?”
Pete shrunk a little, “I bit him. He’s okay though, just tired.”
“Oh my god, Pete.” The other vampire hissed, “You—You—You shouldn’t do that.” He paused, leaning over, “Pete. He’s breathing funny, it’s off.”
“No, FUCK no.” Pete hissed, “Gerard—he said. He said that Patrick was going to get sick.”
William concentrated for a moment, rolling Patrick over a little and putting his hand on his chest, “I think it’s just a cold, there’s nothing to worry about. You know not to trust what Gerard says, he’s a compulsive liar. He probably just picked up on it last night.”
“William. He’s not as strong as either of us. His immune system is weak! He can go from being okay to bad to dead in days.” Pete said, looking over to Patrick with furrowed eyebrows.
The other vampire sighed and put his head down to Patrick’s chest, listening intently. “He’s congested. His heart rate is a little slow.” He cut a sharp glare in Pete’s direction, “But that’s to be expected. He seems fine other wise.” He stood back up straight and trailed his fingers around Patrick’s face slightly, pinching the bridge of his nose lightly. William trailed his hands down, again, and put them on Patrick’s chest—one over each side of his rib cage and pressed down softly.
“That should help with his congestion.” He paused for a moment, “He sounds better. Just in case though, what time frame did Gerard give you?”
“A week, two weeks.”
William nodded, “I’ll stay here instead of going back to
Pete shrugged, “Let them come to me as they want.” He muttered, “I have to go feed. I . . . he’s too much for me to handle sometimes. It’s kind of embarrassing—but, just the thought of how his blood tasted is enough to get me hungry again.”
The other vampire looked over to him, skeptically, before sighing. “I’ll stay here and watch him. Go and feed. Find someone to make it last. You need to be with him as much as possible while Gerard’s here.”
“I know.”
***
When Pete gets back from feeding (he needed the daytime challenge to burn off steam), Gerard cornered him before he could get upstairs. Pete only let him because he could still tell that William was there.
Gerard was blunt with the subject he intended to discuss. “You should turn Patrick.”
Pete narrowed his eyes, “I’ve already told you, I don’t intend to turn him until I absolutely, positively have to.”
Gerard paused for a long moment, before he turned to Pete. “I really think it’s in both of your best interests to turn him. I’m taking a moment to be neutral in the subject.” He declared. “Neutral moment, over.” He examined his nails (which were shaped more like claws) and looked towards Pete with his trademark manic grin. “I am instructing you, as your elder and as the oldest vampire of the region, to turn him.”
“Why is it so important to you?” Pete snarled, losing his temper. He had never been very good at keeping it around Gerard—previous experiences had had him being forcibly removed from the elder’s presence in order to maintain his own safety.
The other considered, he didn’t seem to be quick on gathering words—or perhaps he was just attempting to make Pete wait and infuriate him the best he could.
“I’ve already told you, he’s lovely.” Gerard had an odd expression on his face as he spoke. “I believe that you shouldn’t endanger it. He would be extravagant as one of us, you know. He would have our liquid grace, can’t you see it—haven’t you dreamed of how he would look pouncing on his prey?”
Pete furrowed his brows, “I’m not turning him until I have to.” He snapped, turning to head towards the steps.
“Are you afraid that the same thing might happen . . . that gorgeous little Patrick might end up like Ryan?”
“He won’t end up like Ryan.” Pete said without missing a beat, turning around to face Gerard.
Gerard shrugged his shoulders languidly, slinking towards Pete, “I’m n
ot sure. Maybe he won’t end up dead, but maybe he’ll do the same thing anyways . . . betray your trust and turn around to go to someone else.”
Pete took a deep breath, not because he had to but mostly from habit. He was not going to snap.
“Perhaps he’ll just end up going crazy—you know this life isn’t for everyone.”
“Quit trying to—“
“Pete, dear. Face it, you’re not meant to have what’s lovely. You have a tendency of playing to rough and breaking the fragile.” Gerard grinned maniacally as he finished, “That’s why you have to make your pretty things unbreakable.”
Pete growled at Gerard, lunging forwards towards him.
“PETE!” That was William, standing in the middle of the stair case. “Don’t let him provoke you. Come back up here and simmer down.” The lanky brunette glared at Gerard as he motioned for Pete. Gerard merely grinned in response and waved Pete off.
Pete scrunched his nose up, “I will take things at my own pace with him. You have no right or place to interfere as long as Patrick doesn’t tell anyone else what I let him know.” He turned away and walked up the stair case.
“It’s only a matter of time, Petey.”
“Ignore him, Panda.” William muttered, attempting for calming as he put his arm around Pete’s shoulders—leading him upwards. “Patrick’s getting a cough. I should wait before I do anything more to him.” He said once they were upstairs, not quite yet in the room where Patrick was lying down. “I don’t want to speed his cells up anymore until what I did earlier wear’s off. Otherwise there might be some damage, or advanced aging. I’m not used to using this on humans. Generally I only—when something bad happens in the coven.” He bit his lip, an old human quirk that had never left him.
Pete cursed loudly, and William squeezed his shoulder slightly, “You should go to him. He’s still exhausted.”
***
“Peter . . .” Patrick mumbled, sleepily—going to sit up.
“Don’t.” Pete cut the movement off. He took off his shirt, and then climbed onto the bed with Patrick, shuffling under the blankets with him.
“Where’d you go?”
“I . . . had to go feed again.”
Patrick looked almost hurt, and turned away to cough in his shoulder. Of course he would be, Pete realized. “Remember when I told you ‘you do things to me’? Well you still do, only it keeps getting worse and worse.”
The Doctor nodded lazily, accepting the answer for a moment, before speaking again, “William kept on coming over here. He looked . . . worried.” Patrick seemed annoyed by the mere memory of William’s actions, “Is something wrong?”
Pete shook his head, “You know my time thing?” Patrick nodded, “Bill has a . . . health thing. He’s keeping an eye on you for me, there’s a bug going around.”
“I’m fine, Peter, aside from you biting me. Believe me, I’m a Doctor, I know when I’m sick.”
“You’re psych—“
“I’m a Physician, I double majored though.” Patrick mumbled.
“How old are you?” Pete asked.
Patrick chuckled lightly, “I graduated high school at seventeen, and was able to finish college in three years—twenty. I spent four years in
“How old are you?” He asked, turning his eyes carefully to Pete, “You never told me, you always evaded the subject when I would bring it up.”
“I was turned at twenty five.” Pete replied, “I won’t tell you how old I am, maybe ever. I don’t like discussing it, it makes me feel detached.”
***
A few nights later, Patrick scooted closer to Pete and looked up at him, “Why does . . . talking about your age make you feel detached?”
“Because all the time feels like it’s gone by so quickly.” Pete replied simply, squeezing Patrick’s shoulder lightly.
“You’re immortal—time is forever for –“ Patrick coughed, loud and sudden, worse than before.
Pete’s lips went into a grim line, and he helped Patrick sit up, rubbing his back while he calmed down. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No.” Patrick snapped, “I’m fine, you don’t know anything about—“
“I know that you’re sick—it’s been four days, and I’m worried about you because—“
Patrick’s eyes narrowed slightly, “Because why?” He kept on trying to figure out what Pete and Gerard kept on bickering over him about. And why Pete kept calling William in every couple of hours to ‘check up on him.’
The vampire sighed, “Because I will never be at ease as long as you’re human. Any number of things could take you away from me at any time.”
“It’s a cold, Pete. Give me some cough medicine and I’ll be fine.” Pete shot up like a lightning bolt, grabbing a fresh shirt and putting it on.
“William! Come—“ Pete didn’t even have to finish his sentence before the lanky vampire was in the room, eyeing Patrick carefully, “Watch him, I’m going to go get him some cough medicine.”
Pete shuffled out over to the roof, “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Wait, Peter!” Patrick yelled, attempting to scramble upwards and go from the loft to the roof (he didn’t make it quite in time, but was sure Pete could hear him sigh in frustration and yell out, “You idiot! Do you even have a clue on what kind to get?!”)
***
Pete hated the bright neon lights of the pharmacy closest to Mikey and Alicia’s house. They were loud and they shone too harsh against his skin, they made him feel paranoid and antsy as if the sun was up.
He stared at the section of medicine for colds and considered, there were so many different types. He was about to get a box of each and be done with it when a pretty young girl came up to him.
“Sir, do you need any help with anything?” Pete glanced towards her, suddenly aware of the fact that his eyes must be coal black and that hunger was biting at the edges of his stomach. But, no, he had to get this medicine back to Patrick—he hadn’t really gone out and fed since a few nights ago. He would have to tonight if he intended on sleeping in the same bed as Patrick again.
“Umm, yeah. My boyfriend is sick.” He muttered, “Bad cough, umm, congested. Wait, yeah, he’s got a fever too.”
The girl blushed a little, and then picked up a few boxes, looking at the labels. “Here, try this one and” she reached over and grabbed another box, “and this is just plain cold medicine. Both of these should get him better in a few days.” She said, smiling politely.
“You seem to know what you’re talking about?”
“I’ve been working here for a while.” She said, “Are you ready to check out?”
Pete shook his head, “Nah, I wanna look around a bit more.” He said, mostly he just wanted to double check and make sure there wasn’t a medicine that might speed Patrick’s cold up.
And suddenly, damn it he was quick, Pete wheeled around.
“Your little toy must be falling apart by now, for you to be here.” The wicked grin was in place on his face. Pete wanted to punch him, but restrained himself—it wouldn’t do much good.
“He is not just a little toy.” Pete snarled, low and under his breath—threatening as he could make it knowing who he was talking to and what kind of power he had.
Gerard shrugged, “Whatever you like to call him. If you really love him so damned much, you would make him one of us—equalize it. You wouldn’t have to treat him like the pet that he is.”
Pete fought back the growl rising in his chest, “Quit insulting him.”
“There really isn’t much of a point of you getting this much in a fuss over him—he’s human, he’s not a suitable mate for you. If you aren’t extremely controlled, you could easily kill him.”
“You better quit.” Pete snarled, careful not to tighten his fists like he want to, lest he crush the medicine.
Gerard shrugged, “Fine then. I will, for now. Just make sure you keep a good eye on him. They keep getting more vivid.”
Pete practically wheeled around, but managed (by some miracle) to keep his control as he went over to the girl and checked out the medicine.
“That a friend of yours? It seemed like he upset you.”
Pete shrugged, “We haven’t been on the best of terms lately. I’ve got to get these to my boyfriend, now, thanks for your help.” The girl nodded, and Pete left—the hunger so raw in his gut.
And Pete was walking out the door when something that Gerard said sunk in, ‘keep a good eye on him. They keep getting more vivid.’ Shit. He dropped the bag and ran.