Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Of course, the *one time* Patrick has to walk home from work after the night shift, which he had never done before but his boss is an ass, this happens to him. Just his luck, or lack thereof. Well, there are certainly worse things that can happen to someone walking through Chicago at night.

"Hey, dude. Can I talk to you for a moment?" A voice calls from the alley Patrick was walking by. He pretends not to hear and keeps walking.

"Seriously, I just need a moment of your time!" The voice calls again. Scared of what might happen if he doesn't at least hear the person out, Patrick turns on his heel and walks back.

A tall (well, taller than Patrick, but that isn't difficult) guy with cherry red hair was standing there, a hopeful smile spreading across his pale face. He didn't appear to be holding a weapon, which made (some of) Patrick's anxiety go away.

"Okay, listen, I don't have any money I can give you, so if that's what you were gonna ask for, I'm sorry." Patrick said off the bat.

"I wasn't gonna ask for money!" He responded.

"Okay then, what *do* you want?"

"Uh, I'm gonna have to ask you to not freak out-"

"Alright, but if this gets violent, I will scream. And I can scream very loudly."

"I'm kinda a vampire and kinda need to drink some blood so I won't die. I mean, so I won't die more. I'm already kinda dead."

Patrick was speechless. What the fuck? He just kept opening and closing his mouth in shock. The vampire just stood there, looking ashamed.

"This is usually the part where people run away. You gonna join them?"

Patrick finally regained his voice. "You-you've got to be joking. That's-impossible."

"That's what I thought too. But look," he opened his mouth wide, revealing sharp fangs among his other unnaturally white teeth, for someone who *drinks blood*. Patrick choked on his own spit.

"Yeah. Okay. Wow. That's something. I am more than a little terrified but my feet refuse to move. Great."

"So, about the blood thing-"

"Wouldn't that kill me?"

The vampire deadpanned. "Do you realize how much blood is in the average human's body? Like, five gallons. The half gallon I'd be physically able to drink, at most, wouldn't kill you."

Patrick took a deep breath. "Alright then."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Why not? I also appreciate you asking, that was oddly nice."

"I'm a vampire, not a criminal."

The vampire grabbed Patrick by the wrist, dragging him into the alley and pushing him against the wall. With him so close, Patrick could see the red glow of the vampire's eyes.

"Hey now, at least give me a name first."

"Gerard. Yours?"

"Patrick."

"Can you, like, expose your shoulder? You probably don't want two circular scabs on your neck." Gerard asked, frowning. Patrick shrugged his jacket off, pulling the shoulder of his shirt away slightly.

"Well Patrick, I've got bad news. You are severely dehydrated, Jesus Christ. I can't find a vein. Whatever. Oh, there's a good one. Relax, it'll hurt less."

Patrick took another deep breath, relaxing his shoulder. "Okay-*shit*!" Pain shot through Patrick's body, but only for a moment. After the initial breaking of the skin, it numbed out. Patrick's brain went into "panic mode" and he forced himself to not push Gerard away.

After Gerard was done, he pulled away for a second, then leaned back in and, for some fucking reason, started *licking the wound.*

"I really didn't think this could get any weirder. But it did. Why are you licking me?"

"Well, you see, wounds don't usually scab over immediately. So unless you wanna keep bleeding, let me do what I gotta do." Patrick silently nodded, even though Gerard wasn't looking.

When Gerard was *actually* done, he met Patrick's eyes, a bit of blood dribbling down his chin. Patrick gulped nervously.

"Listen to me, and listen well. The wound is scabbed over now, and whatever you do. Do. Not. Pick. At. It. If you do, it will leave a nasty scar, and I'm sure you don't want that." Gerard stepped back, wiped his mouth off with his sleeve, and laughed shakily. "So, uh, thanks. You're pretty awesome, dude. And brave."

"Yeah. You're welcome. I'm also dizzy. That was a lot of blood. More than I'm used to loosing at once, like from blood tests, y'know?" Patrick said, still leaning against the wall for support.

"Do you want me to walk you home?"

"No, I'm sure I can manage. Besides, with all due respect, I'm not keen on letting a vampire know where I live."

"Oh, I was gonna follow you anyway!"

"*WHAT?*" Patrick was suddenly very scared, and Gerard's creepily serene smile wasn't helping. The giggle that followed *really* didn't help.

"You are, in short, an easy target for anyone that might actually want to hurt you. You said it yourself, you're dizzy. Also, you look like a twelve year old."

Patrick sighed in resignation. Gerard was right. "Fine. Whatever."

Patrick, even dizzier than he originally thought, leaned on Gerard the entire walk. When the two finally reached Patrick's house, he unlocked the door and finally stood up completely. He also realized he probably could have stopped leaning on Gerard a while ago.

"Well, goodbye, Patrick. Maybe I'll see you around?" Gerard said, dashing off before Patrick could respond. For a second, Patrick thought he might like to see Gerard again, but dismissed the thought immediately. After all, he was a *vampire*; his niceness had to be a façade. With a shake of his head, Patrick went inside and went to bed, hoping that this was all a dream.

Chapter Text

But, the thing is, it *wasn't* a dream; the scab that remained on Patrick's shoulder confirmed that. And, if it were a dream, it would have to be reoccurring, as Gerard showed up at his house two days later, someone else slumped against him, clearly unconscious.

"You're back."

"I am."

"Why?"

"Because my friend is dying. More."

"I can see where this is going, Gerard. Why me?"

"Uh, because you're nice?"

"Goodbye, Gerard."

"No wait!"

Patrick sighed as he opened the door again, feeling an unwanted amount of pity rise in his stomach upon seeing not only the desperate look in Gerard's eyes, but also that his friend had woken up, was shaking, and looking at Patrick with what was almost fear.

"Alright, get in here. You are *very* lucky that I am actually nice."

Patrick stepped out of the way as Gerard barely carried his friend into Patrick's house, both of them dropping onto the couch. When Patrick joined them, Gerard's friend sitting between them, still slumped towards Gerard.

"Hey, Frank. Come on, wake up, you fuckin' dumbass."

Patrick wondered how Gerard could insult Frank with such an affectionate tone of voice. But it seemed to work, because Frank did, in fact, sit up.

"Okay, everything's kinda... Fuzzy? I think? My head hurts too much for me to think of a better word. What's going on, exactly?"

Gerard laughed softly. "See, this is what happens when you refuse to eat!"

"I. Am. A. Vegetarian. So, would you kindly not intervene in that?"

"You can't ignore the vampire thing forever, I won't let you."

Patrick found himself smiling at the petty debate, even though the two were arguing about whether or not Frank should drink blood. This was fucked up, and Patrick didn't like it. But he was, clearly, in too deep.

"Done fighting yet?" Patrick asked. The other two jumped, like they had forgotten Patrick was there.

"Yeah. Right, Frankie." It wasn't a question. Frank just nodded.

"So, uh, I'm sure you've picked up on it but just in-"

"Yes, Frank, I know you're here to suck my blood." Patrick said with far too little emotion. He took his leather jacket off, revealing a dark gray t-shirt.

It was fairly similar to the last time: Patrick had to expose his shoulder, Frank said Patrick was too dehydrated and he couldn't find a vein, the breaking of the skin hurt but quickly numbed out, Frank awkwardly licked the wound.

The only difference was that Frank was more violent about it; the whole 'vegetarian' thing flying out the window at the first drop of blood. Afterwards, there was an awkward silence. Frank kept looking around, then mumbled a quiet "thank you" and rushed out of Patrick's house, leaving Gerard behind.

"Is Frank always like that?" Patrick asked after a moment, breaking the awkward silence. Gerard nodded without a word.

It took another moment for Gerard to start an actual conversion, in which the two men talked about random things, from comic books to music to cats.

"You're allergic to cats? That must suck!" Gerard exclaimed, a look of vague pity on his face. Patrick laughed, used to getting that expression.

The time they talked flew by. When Patrick glanced at the clock, he nearly choked. It was nearly two in the morning.

"Shit, it's late. Fuck." Gerard looked at the clock as well.

"Oh, shit."

"Yeah, sorry to just kick you out, but I've got work tomorrow, so-"

"Yeah, Patrick, I understand," Gerard stood up, and Patrick walked him to the door. As Gerard opened it, he turned to Patrick with a hopeful smile. "See you around?"

"Definitely," Patrick affirmed, and, with a burst of confidence, stood up on his toes to press his lips onto Gerard's.

"Yeah. Okay. Wow. That happened. I'm happy it happened, by the way. Now I really think I'll be seeing you around." Gerard was nervous, a little shaken. Patrick was smiling, the rush of endorphins taking over.

"I sure hope so."

With that, Gerard left, but not before pressing his lips against Patrick's one last time.

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The next few days were a blur for Patrick. Eat, sleep, work, Gerard. There was a lot of kissing-short, gentle ones, at least-but neither officially asked the other out. Frank knew of the unlabeled relationship, and the two said their friends Ray and Mikey-Gerard's brother-knew as well. Patrick was very much aware that, being a vampire, Gerard was almost immortal. But he ignored that, and Gerard didn't seem to care either. Until Patrick had the night shift again.

Walking home in the dark was never fun, especially in a city as crime-ridden as Chicago. Patrick, until this night, never had a bad interaction. But he now found himself trapped between an alley wall and someone else, a knife against his neck, angry brown eyes staring into his, with no visible way to escape.

"Hand over your money, and I'll let you go." The man growled. Patrick swallowed nervously.

"I don't have any."

"*What*?"

"I don't have any money with me!" Patrick was almost crying, the man pressing the knife against him a bit more. /This is it/, he thought, /this is where I die/.

But there was an incomprehensible shout, the sound of footsteps, the man being pulled away from Patrick, knife clattering to the ground.

When Patrick opened his eyes again-he didn't remember closing them-he saw none other than Gerard holding the man by the throat.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing with *my* Patrick? Because it better not be what I think you were doing."

The man didn't answer, and Gerard bit into his neck. Patrick wanted to run, he really did, but he was frozen by fear, forced to watch Gerard drain the man and throw him to the ground.

When Gerard turned to Patrick, his eyes were murderous, as well as literally glowing red in the darkness. Blood was still dripping from his mouth and Patrick choked on his breath as he actually started crying. Gerard's eyes softened, and he quickly stepped towards Patrick, who pushed him away.

"Don't. Stay away from me."

"Patrick-" But Gerard was a bit too late, as Patrick had already started to run away, sprinting down to his house.

When Patrick got home, he opened the door with shaking hands, not actually realizing that the door was already unlocked. He stayed with his back against said door, pulling his inhaler out of his pocket and keeping his eyes closed as he used it.

"So, are you gonna acknowledge me?"

Patrick's eyes flew open at the voice. Frank. He was sitting on the couch, looking at Patrick expectantly.

"How?"

"Your spare key is under your fucking doormat."

"That's not an invitation. Why?"

"Gerard told me to, with our vampirific telepathy."

"Sounds like bullshit. Anyway, use that 'telepathy' to tell him to leave me alone, and then get the fuck out of my house."

"Well, you can tell him. He's here." Frank's statement was followed by rapid knocking on Patrick's door. Sighing, he opened it.

"Why are you here? Do you not understand the meaning of 'Stay away from me'?"

"I'm here to apologize." Gerard said.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. Now, goodbye." Patrick started to close the door again.

"Don't think so. We're talking about this." Gerard said as he pushed the door back open, as easily as it would've been if Patrick wasn't trying to stop him.

"Okay, I've heard about vampires getting super-speed, and now know that's true, but I never heard anything about getting super-strength." Patrick said with a bit of anger in his voice.

"We don't. You're just pathetic." Gerard said monotonously, causing Frank to burst into laughter and an incredibly off-key version of 'Whatcha Say' by Jason Derulo.

"Okay, first you break into my house, then you start singing terribly? What the hell do you have against me, Iero?" Patrick sighed. "Anyway, both of you, get out of my house and leave me alone. There's nothing to talk about."

"What about-what about us? About what we have?"

"We have nothing, Gerard. There was never anything between us, and now there definitely won't be, ever. Get the fuck out." Patrick's voice was cold. Gerard nodded solemnly. As he and Frank left, Patrick pretended he didn't see the tears rolling down Gerard's face.

Chapter Text

Patrick's daily schedule didn't change much after that; the only difference was that Gerard was replaced by Frank, who was consistently telling Patrick to apologize to Gerard, that Gerard was sad and missed him, that Gerard was sorry. All of it bounced off of Patrick, and every time he just told Frank to leave him alone.

The other addition was that, every night, before falling asleep, Patrick found himself thinking about the details of that event, usually not in chronological order. About how he was certain he was going to die but didn't because Gerard showed up and saved him. About the feeling of the knife against his skin, and then the sound of it falling to the ground. About Gerard looking back to him, eyes glowing. About the man's angry brown eyes going wide and scared when Gerard pulled him away from Patrick. About what Gerard said. 'My Patrick'. About fear overtaking him and freezing him in place before forcing him to run. About the final conversation. About forcing himself to ignore his strong feelings towards Gerard because he was scared.

About how his stubbornness made him refuse to apologize to Gerard.

About how fucking much he loved and missed that adorable, idiotic redhead.

So, to try and distract himself, Patrick went completely overboard at work, asking for as many hours his boss could legally give him (excluding night shifts, because he refuses to make that mistake again).

And any days he can't work are spent with a human shaped mass of annoying-ness that likes to be referred to as Pete Wentz.

"I really don't get why you would do max hours though, like, why would you do that to yourself?" Pete asked abruptly in the middle of a game of Monopoly (he was loosing horribly).

Patrick, unable to really explain the situation without talking about Gerard, which would cause more questions, just laughed it off. "I kinda need the money, dude. Besides, if I work all day, my boss can't give me the night shift again, so I won't have to walk home in the dark." Pete nodded in understanding.

Before Pete could verbally respond, there was knocking at Patrick's door. The rhythm was far too familiar and sent Patrick into a slight panic. When he opened the door-Pete on his tail-his fears were confirmed. Frank was standing there, looking angrier than usual.

"What are you doing here? It's much earlier than it usually is when you show up to annoy me." Patrick said, without much inflection.

"Frank?" Pete asked, and Frank jumped.

"You two know each other?" Patrick asked. Pete nodded.

"Yeah, through my friend Mikey." Patrick's stomach dropped at that name. Since the two were brothers, Gerard instantly jumped to his mind.

"Speaking of Mikey, he's why I'm here! He kinda wants to cause you extreme physical harm, perhaps even lethal, for hurting Gerard. He says you have a week before he attacks. So, take that into consideration."

Frank was smiling too widely for those words. Patrick really didn't understand him. Or Gerard. Or any of this vampire shit, really. He glanced at Pete, who was frozen in disbelieving shock.

"What the *fuck* does that even mean? Mikey wouldn't hurt a fly! Well, he'd hurt a mosquito, but that's beside the point." Pete was clearly beyond angry, as if Frank saying Mikey wanted to hurt Patrick was a personal attack. Frank sighed deeply.

"Pete, you don't know him, or any of us, as well as you think you do. Trust me on that. Anyway, Patrick, I would suggest apologizing to Gerard as soon as you can, before Mikey gets any angrier. Such as, I don't know, today. If you value your life."

Patrick swallowed nervously. Frank was right, and he hated it. He nodded. "Yeah, today would be a good day to apologize. Let's go."

"I'm coming with you!" Pete said, leaving no room for argument. Patrick looked at Frank nervously, who just shrugged.

"If he wants to tag along, it's not my place to stop him."

So the three set off, Patrick slowly growing more nervous.

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Pete wouldn't stop talking the entire way, asking Frank and Patrick why Mikey was mad, what did Patrick do to Gerard, why they were going through back alleys. Neither Patrick nor Frank answered.

"This is the place, but Gee isn't around. I'll go find him, you two stay here." Frank said, running off. It was only a few moments after he disappeared around a corner that someone Patrick didn't recognize appeared through the opposite corner. Pete jumped.

"That's Mikey." Pete whispered to Patrick, who immediately felt his mouth go dry and his hands start to shake.

"So. You finally decided to show up, huh, Patrick? Oh. Pete's here too. Unfortunate. I was trying to avoid collateral damage. Whatever, not my issue. You, Patrick, however, are my issue." Mikey wasn't showing any emotion. Patrick was sweating.

"Listen, I'm just here to apologize to Gerard, okay? Isn't that what you wanted?"

Mikey laughed bitterly. "Too bad. He's asleep right now. Also, did you really think all it would take was an apology? After all the distress you caused my brother? After all the hours I spent consoling him as he cried over you? After the nearly three weeks I had to let this anger get to a tipping point? I was going to hurt you anyway. How long you waited after that warning was just to see how painful it would be. Good on you for showing up so soon."

Finally, the movie-villain-esque monologue was done. Mikey ran a hand through his dirty blond, slicked back hair.

"So. How would you like to suffer? I could actually just kill you, if you'd rather have that. Oh wait, I just realized. Pete won't be getting out of this unscathed either."

At that, Pete turned to run, grabbing Patrick's hand and pulling him along. But Mikey, obviously, was faster, and had both of them slammed into a wall in seconds. Patrick hit his head very hard, and lost balance. Pete was a bit luckier, and was able to keep Patrick up.

But Pete wasn't done. He ran at Mikey, who was too stunned to immediately react, and tried to throw him to the ground. Pete was too weak, apparently, and was shoved away, ending up right in front of Patrick.

"If you want to hurt him, you'll have to get through me first." Pete said, voice shaking slightly.

"Alright then." Mikey practically growled out, dragging Pete away from Patrick and biting into his neck, looking over Pete's should at Patrick as he drained Pete's blood as much as he could.

When Mikey let go of him, Pete collapsed on the ground, unconscious.

"You've been *very* annoying to me, Patrick. So I've decided there will be no mer-" Mikey was cut off as something all too familiar happened. It was Gerard, angrily pulling Mikey away from Patrick and slamming him back into the wall, a hand around his throat. And then Gerard was shouting at him, in what sounded like... Latin, maybe? Patrick wasn't sure.

All Patrick could think to do was to get as far away as possible, without leaving the area. So he found himself dragging Pete to the other side of the alley, holding him close, his sharp, uneven breaths the only thing keeping Patrick from completely breaking down.

And then Frank was back.

"What fucking happened while I was gone?! Ways, calm the fuck down!" Frank was louder than Gerard, who simply redirected his yelling to Frank. Again, it was all in Latin.

Gerard was angry, and expressed that by yelling. Frank was also angry, clearly, but wasn't yelling. Like he was trying to calm Gerard down by acting calm himself. It seemed to work, though.

When Gerard stopped being so... Angry? Sad? His face showed so many emotions, it made Patrick's head spin. But he did calm down and, thank God, Frank reverted to English.

"Okay Gee, you hold Mikey 'til he calms down. I'll talk to Patrick." Frank ran over, sitting opposite of Pete and placing a hand on his neck.

"There isn't a pulse." Frank said, voice just *barely* cracking.

"But he's breathing!" Patrick replied. He suddenly realized what that might just mean, and hoped to God he was wrong. "Is he-" Frank nodded, cutting Patrick off. He was fine with that; he didn't think he could finish the sentence anyway.

And then Gerard was sitting next to Patrick but Mikey was still frozen against the wall, eyes wide.

But Patrick didn't really process it because his mind was still going at a million miles per hour and he couldn't stop it, bad thoughts making clear judgment impossible. Until Gerard shook him out of that bad place and Patrick was looking up at the redhead with teary eyes.

"Hey, Patrick. It's okay. Calm down." Gerard's voice was soft but it wasn't working and Patrick was hyperventilating because with all that was going on nothing could work but Gerard pulled him into a hug and Patrick was crying into his shoulder because everything was too much.

The thing that pulled Patrick back into reality was someone grabbing at his arm. He expected it to be Frank, but turned around to see Pete had woken up. His eyes were wide and scared.

And *red*.