FicWad

Saving You Is Half The Fun

The sun had just set and Patrick roused his self to wake Pete. He rolled over to look at the clock. Seven-thirty. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. Even after two months this was still hard to do. When Pete slept it looked as though he was dead, and would wake about as easy as a dead person too. Patrick found one of his pillows and pulled it over his head groaning. The bed by his hips sank and a cool hand touched bare skin where his shirt had ridden up. Patrick jumped and removed the pillow to find Pete grinning sheepishly. He threw the pillow, but Pete ducked easily.

"Sorry," he said placing a kiss on Patrick's cheek. It was as cool as his touch and twice as sweet. Patrick grinned.

"When are we going out?" Pete smiled too.

"Not tonight. Your door is closed and locked and we're going to spend time together." Patrick smiled and moved over for Pete. He curled next to Patrick under the covers and held his hand. Pete laid his head on Patrick's shoulder. They didn't speak of why Pete was up before Patrick. He turned to Pete and kissed his jaw.

"Thank you." Pete's eyebrows scrunched together.

"For what?"

"For just being with me. Thank you." Pete bit his lip then smiled and pressed his lips against Patrick's. Patrick placed a hand on the back of Pete's neck. Pete's hands slid to his hips and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss by gently prying Patrick's lips open with his tongue. Patrick's arms slid over his shoulders and clasped behind his neck. Their tongues battled and their bodies flushed.

Patrick could feel Pete's erection pressed hard against his hip. He squirmed and pressed against Pete harder, drawing a moan from the taller man.

"Patrick," he gasped, tangling his hands in Patrick's unbrushed mane. Pete's hands trailed under Patrick's shirt, setting him on fire. Patrick moaned, partly from pleasure, another part from the pain of his erection straining against his boxers.

"Pete," he whispered hoarsely, trailing two fingers down Pete's side. "Pete, please." Pete began to comply. His fingers slowly moved from the dip in Patrick's waist to the throbbing bulge. Patrick's breath hitched. "Oh God..."

"Pete? Patrick?" There was a loud rap on the wooden door, and Andy's voice floated through the air. "Guys?" Pete glared.

"What?" He growled. Even through the door Andy's voice was slightly shrill with a note of panic in it.

"We've got a problem."

________________________________________ Just before the exited out of the car, Pete caught Patrick's writs and gave him a long kiss before looking him in the eyes. Patrick gazed back, being the only one not to grow nervous and weak at the hard Vampiric stare.

"Don't get killed," Pete whispered. `Don't get killed', that was their motto. It was never `Be careful', or `Don't get hurt', just `Don't get killed'. If you managed it, then you could take care of anything. Patrick smiled slightly.

"And if I get in trouble?"

"I'll come for you. Remember? Saving you is half the fun." Patrick smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. You don't get killed either."

"I won't." Their gazes parted and they climbed out. Patrick clambered on top of the car with a newly mastered crossbow. He and Pete locked eyes once more before Pete darted off to beat the living dead out of a punk. Andy and Joe split two, leaving Patrick in the middle.

He aimed and pulled the trigged on the bow and sent an arrow soaring into the heart of a vampire. The punk cried out and crumpled. Patrick grinned in spite of himself and rotated a bit. He took aim and put another vampire down.

This went on for another few moments until he turned his back on an over-looked vampire. It smirked, one word floating to the top of its mind. `Lunch.' It snuck up on Patrick as he carefully took aim to a far-off target. It jumped onto the hood and Patrick turned, his eyes widening in fear. He dropped the crossbow and fumbled for a stake. The vampire grinned and grabbed Patrick by his neck, lifted him up, and pulled him close. The vampire held one of Patrick's arms, snapping it.

"Ah!" Patrick cried out. He kicked the vampire. It hissed and threw Patrick to the asphalt, hard.

"Bad lunch," it said, tauntingly. It picked Patrick up by his injured arm and threw him against the car, pinning him. It lifted a pale wrist and rubbed it gently against its face. "Beautiful wrists," the vampire growled, lifting the wrist up to sniff it. It grinned and grazed its fangs over the blue vein by a cross branded on the underside of Patrick's wrist. Patrick whimpered and prayed for Pete, Joe, Andy, anyone. The vampire nicked Patrick's wrested and lapped at the small pool of blood. It looked up into Patrick's eyes and grinned. It dropped his arm and a sharp pain jolted through his body.

"Fuck!" Patrick cried. The vampire removed his hat and grabbed his hair, and exposed his neck causing him to cry out again.

"I love the smell of fear," the vampire laughed sadistically, sinking its fangs into Patrick's neck. Patrick screamed, and the vampire pulled him closed, drawing blood from every inch of his body.

"PETE!!" Patrick screamed, his voice echoing off the buildings. "Pete...!" Patrick's eyes began to dim. He fell limp against the vampire. His body was cold and paler than usual.

Then Patrick was falling, and his head hit the ground with a crack, but only seconds later was he being wrapped in warmth. And the blood wasn't stopping. No, the blood wasn't stopping. It was spilling onto Andy and pouring into the streets. Don't let the blood stop, he cried. Don't let the blood stop.

______________________A drop of water hit a cool cheek, and eyes fluttered.

The room was turned at an odd angle, and it was freezing. It was only that cold in winter, surly it was still spring? He tried to move his arms but found them useless and lead-like. His eyes were heavy too but he could open them. Pete's face filled his vision. Pete's eyes were red, puffy, filled with tears, and there was still tear tracks on his pale face. He kissed Patrick softly and let more tears hit his cool cheeks.

"Pete," Patrick croaked, "why can't I move?"

"You've been out for a while..."

"Why can't I move?" Patrick's question was more of a demand. His eyes bore into Pete's, and Pete cried harder. "Why can't I move!" Pete cried into Patrick's chest. His eyes shifted, and his head turned. Patrick's arms were chained to the bedpost. He made a choked noise. Pete's body was quaking.

"Pete." Pete looked up. Patrick fought the urge to cry. "Baby, you gotta kill me."

"No!"

"Please! Kill me!"

"No!"

"Kill me! Kill me!" Patrick began to cry too, screaming `kill me', until the whole house echoed. Pete held him until a few hours passed. Patrick finally looked up into Pete's eyes.

"I want you to make love to me," he said softly. Pete nodded and unchained Patrick. They folded into each other's embrace. Pete undressed them both with soft kisses. They made love bathed in moonlight, slow, soft love. With muffled moans and tears. When they both cried out with release and held each other. Tears were kissed away and the made love again, this time Pete pinned Patrick to the bed by his shoulders and rammed into him roughly, biting his lip so not to shed any tears.

When he came though, his shoulders shook and he sobbed. Patrick held him, allowing Pete's salt tears sink into his skin. He held Pete until he fell asleep and Patrick could slip out from underneath him, give Pete one last kiss, jolt a note on a scrap piece of paper, and pull on his boxers, and slither into the cool night. He looked to the sky and sighed, pulling his arms around his naked torso.

_______ When Pete woke at Sunset, Patrick wasn't with him. He bolted out to find Andy collapsed in the middle of the floor in the kitchen, a piece of paper crumpled in hand and Joe holding him as he cried. Pete's body vibrated as he pulled the paper from Andy's hand. As soon as the paper was free from his grip, Andy flung his arm around Joe's neck, sobbing deeply into his neck.

Pete read the paper. When he was finished, he crumpled it and threw it against the wall. He screamed at the ceiling, cursing Patrick, then fell to the floor to cry too.

Guys,

Yeah, I suck ass, I'm a cowered. And I'm the worst friend. But I am not as strong as Pete. I never was, never will be.

I'm not a great poet either, but I can tell you that I love you all. I never regretted a moment with you guys. I hope you can forgive me, and love the way I was.

Love,

Patrick.