FIC: Change in Temperature.
Title: Change in Temperature.
Characters: Andy Hurley/Patrick Stump
Prompt: #34--Not Enough
Word Count: 1,155
Rating: PG-13 for slight, slight language and cuddling.
Summary: Andy takes care of Patrick after the vampire incident. Takes place after the 16 Candles video (vampire AU)
Andy isn’t sure how he managed to bring or drag Patrick back to the safe house after the last brawl, nor is he sure if Patrick is still alive. He feels exhausted, defeated, hopeless after the long night. Carrying Patrick’s unconscious (dead?) body to his bed, he sets him down, trying to find a pulse or a breath. When he can’t, he steps back and figures that he’s too flustered to play doctor. Andy sinks down in a chair in the corner of the bedroom, putting his head in his hands, trying to work out the details of the night.
They captured Pete, hopefully he was just in the local prison and would be back soon before he caused any more trouble.
Joe…he didn’t see Joe after the Dandies rushed the sidewalk.
He managed to grab Patrick, seeing a group of vampires descend on him after Andy managed to slice a few others in the street. He remembers running toward the group, stabbing something and grabbing the collar of Patrick’s shirt before running, rushing back to the house and taking out anything in his way.
Andy didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep, his head still in his hands, until Patrick wakes up with a scream. His eyes snap open at the sound, seeing Patrick claw at his neck.
“Fuck, where are they?” Patrick says frantically, scanning the room as his hand stayed on his neck, panting heavily.
Andy feels his heart drop when Patrick opens his mouth, his new fangs glistening in the light. He closes his eyes and sighs, trying to gain some grasp of the situation. “Calm down, they’re gone now,” he says softly, trying not to panic. “How do you feel?”
Patrick turns to Andy, hand still on his neck, and licks his lips. “Hungry,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. He lifts his eyes and looked into Andy’s eyes, and his voice starts to waiver. “They got me, didn’t they.”
He didn’t need to ask.
Andy stands, clutching a stake by his side. “Are you going to be…alright?” he asks carefully. Patrick nods, laying back down on the bed.
“I’m not going to attack you,” Patrick murmurs, feeling his energy leave him, “but I need something soon.” He waves his hands as he lies back down. “There’s some in the refrigerator.” Andy stands, backing out of the room, still watching Patrick carefully until he’s out of view.
Andy opens the refrigerator, still holding the stake and watching over his shoulder as he grabs the glass pitcher full of…whatever it is Patrick makes for Pete. He smiles ruefully as he pours a large glass of the red mixture-Pete bought it once because he wanted to make sangria and they all made fun of him. This was before the whole…Andy liked to refer to it as the vampire apocalypse.
Clutching the large glass and stake, Andy cautiously walks into the bedroom, finding Patrick breathing shallowly on the bed.
“C’mon, sit up,” Andy says, placing the glass down on the bedside table. Patrick rolls his head over and shakes his head, his eyes heavily hooded. Biting his lip, Andy sits on the bed and props Patrick up against the headboard, still holding the stake in his hand tightly. Patrick’s head rolls onto his shoulder, so Andy pushes it up with his shoulder as he grabs the glass, tilting it to Patrick’s mouth. “C’mon,” he says quietly, his concern breaking slightly as he sees Patrick’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. After a few gulps, Patrick reaches up and grabs the glass away from Andy, drinking the rest down quickly. Andy stands, taking the glass from him. “You want to sleep for a while?” he questions, setting the glass back on the bedside table.
“No, I’m fine,” Patrick says weakly as he sat up, swinging his feet to the edge of the bed. He tries to stand, but falls back against the bed. Andy rushes over, dropping his stake as he puts an arm around Patrick’s shoulders, lifting him up.
“It’s not enough,” Andy says, propping Patrick up against him. Sighing deeply, he presses his wrist against Patrick’s mouth. “C’mon, you need it.”
Patrick, still feeling weak, looks up at Andy, his eyebrows rising in surprise. Upon seeing Andy nod solemnly, he uses what’s left inside of him to grab the wrist and weakly sink his still-sensitive fangs into it. Andy flinches slightly, the pain registering but not feeling too intense-he read about vampire saliva, there’s, there’s something in it that, that he knows he knows but right now it’s a little hazy. Patrick is lapping at his wrist, seemingly very happy about it, and Andy’s mind is escaping him as he watches. He looks reverent, cradling Andy’s wrist in his hand as he takes the blood in.
Patrick pulls himself off once he no longer feels weak. He’s still a little hungry, maybe even mildly peckish, but he doesn’t want to hurt Andy more than he already has. Breathing deeply, he kisses Andy’s wrist before letting it fall to the bed and looks up at him again, licking the blood off his lips.
“Alright?” Patrick asks, feeling more…normal, better, and standing up to stretch. Andy nods, trying to compose himself. He’s a little light-headed, but it’s nothing worse than having blood drawn (and Patrick’s mouth is much nicer than any needle, no matter how many hours he’s spent on his tattoos). He looks at his wrist, running his thumb over the already-scabbed skin and feels himself yawn. Patrick leans down, smiling and putting his hands on Andy’s shoulders. Andy looks up, still holding his wrist, and feels Patrick’s smile reflect onto his face despite feeling a little uneasy as he notice Patrick’s eyes becoming steely. “You look exhausted,” Patrick says quietly but firmly, kissing Andy’s forehead, “you should sleep.” Andy nods, quickly shirking his shirt off and curling up under a blanket. As he closes his eyes, he feels Patrick stroking his hair, his hand freezing but still comforting.
He stirs sometime later, feeling something cold behind him. He looks over his shoulder, still foggy from exhaustion, and sees Patrick smiling at him. Andy puts his head back against the pillow and snuggles the blanket closer.
“You’re cold,” he mutters, shifting slightly.
Patrick kisses the back of his neck. “You’re warm,” he says, his voice still weak, “it’s nice.” Andy bites his lip and rolls over.
“You didn’t drink enough blood,” Andy sighs, bringing his wrist up from under the blanket. “Here.” Patrick shakes his head, pushing Andy’s hand away, eliciting a confused look from Andy.
“I just need some rest,” Patrick smiles, “dying takes a lot out of a guy.” Andy stifles a laugh and turns back over, scooting back against Patrick, who smiles and pulls another blanket up, trying to keep Andy warm despite his own coldness. He nuzzles against Andy’s neck. “You’ll always be enough,” he whispers, yawning and falling asleep.
Characters: Andy Hurley/Patrick Stump
Prompt: #34--Not Enough
Word Count: 1,155
Rating: PG-13 for slight, slight language and cuddling.
Summary: Andy takes care of Patrick after the vampire incident. Takes place after the 16 Candles video (vampire AU)
Andy isn’t sure how he managed to bring or drag Patrick back to the safe house after the last brawl, nor is he sure if Patrick is still alive. He feels exhausted, defeated, hopeless after the long night. Carrying Patrick’s unconscious (dead?) body to his bed, he sets him down, trying to find a pulse or a breath. When he can’t, he steps back and figures that he’s too flustered to play doctor. Andy sinks down in a chair in the corner of the bedroom, putting his head in his hands, trying to work out the details of the night.
They captured Pete, hopefully he was just in the local prison and would be back soon before he caused any more trouble.
Joe…he didn’t see Joe after the Dandies rushed the sidewalk.
He managed to grab Patrick, seeing a group of vampires descend on him after Andy managed to slice a few others in the street. He remembers running toward the group, stabbing something and grabbing the collar of Patrick’s shirt before running, rushing back to the house and taking out anything in his way.
Andy didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep, his head still in his hands, until Patrick wakes up with a scream. His eyes snap open at the sound, seeing Patrick claw at his neck.
“Fuck, where are they?” Patrick says frantically, scanning the room as his hand stayed on his neck, panting heavily.
Andy feels his heart drop when Patrick opens his mouth, his new fangs glistening in the light. He closes his eyes and sighs, trying to gain some grasp of the situation. “Calm down, they’re gone now,” he says softly, trying not to panic. “How do you feel?”
Patrick turns to Andy, hand still on his neck, and licks his lips. “Hungry,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. He lifts his eyes and looked into Andy’s eyes, and his voice starts to waiver. “They got me, didn’t they.”
He didn’t need to ask.
Andy stands, clutching a stake by his side. “Are you going to be…alright?” he asks carefully. Patrick nods, laying back down on the bed.
“I’m not going to attack you,” Patrick murmurs, feeling his energy leave him, “but I need something soon.” He waves his hands as he lies back down. “There’s some in the refrigerator.” Andy stands, backing out of the room, still watching Patrick carefully until he’s out of view.
Andy opens the refrigerator, still holding the stake and watching over his shoulder as he grabs the glass pitcher full of…whatever it is Patrick makes for Pete. He smiles ruefully as he pours a large glass of the red mixture-Pete bought it once because he wanted to make sangria and they all made fun of him. This was before the whole…Andy liked to refer to it as the vampire apocalypse.
Clutching the large glass and stake, Andy cautiously walks into the bedroom, finding Patrick breathing shallowly on the bed.
“C’mon, sit up,” Andy says, placing the glass down on the bedside table. Patrick rolls his head over and shakes his head, his eyes heavily hooded. Biting his lip, Andy sits on the bed and props Patrick up against the headboard, still holding the stake in his hand tightly. Patrick’s head rolls onto his shoulder, so Andy pushes it up with his shoulder as he grabs the glass, tilting it to Patrick’s mouth. “C’mon,” he says quietly, his concern breaking slightly as he sees Patrick’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. After a few gulps, Patrick reaches up and grabs the glass away from Andy, drinking the rest down quickly. Andy stands, taking the glass from him. “You want to sleep for a while?” he questions, setting the glass back on the bedside table.
“No, I’m fine,” Patrick says weakly as he sat up, swinging his feet to the edge of the bed. He tries to stand, but falls back against the bed. Andy rushes over, dropping his stake as he puts an arm around Patrick’s shoulders, lifting him up.
“It’s not enough,” Andy says, propping Patrick up against him. Sighing deeply, he presses his wrist against Patrick’s mouth. “C’mon, you need it.”
Patrick, still feeling weak, looks up at Andy, his eyebrows rising in surprise. Upon seeing Andy nod solemnly, he uses what’s left inside of him to grab the wrist and weakly sink his still-sensitive fangs into it. Andy flinches slightly, the pain registering but not feeling too intense-he read about vampire saliva, there’s, there’s something in it that, that he knows he knows but right now it’s a little hazy. Patrick is lapping at his wrist, seemingly very happy about it, and Andy’s mind is escaping him as he watches. He looks reverent, cradling Andy’s wrist in his hand as he takes the blood in.
Patrick pulls himself off once he no longer feels weak. He’s still a little hungry, maybe even mildly peckish, but he doesn’t want to hurt Andy more than he already has. Breathing deeply, he kisses Andy’s wrist before letting it fall to the bed and looks up at him again, licking the blood off his lips.
“Alright?” Patrick asks, feeling more…normal, better, and standing up to stretch. Andy nods, trying to compose himself. He’s a little light-headed, but it’s nothing worse than having blood drawn (and Patrick’s mouth is much nicer than any needle, no matter how many hours he’s spent on his tattoos). He looks at his wrist, running his thumb over the already-scabbed skin and feels himself yawn. Patrick leans down, smiling and putting his hands on Andy’s shoulders. Andy looks up, still holding his wrist, and feels Patrick’s smile reflect onto his face despite feeling a little uneasy as he notice Patrick’s eyes becoming steely. “You look exhausted,” Patrick says quietly but firmly, kissing Andy’s forehead, “you should sleep.” Andy nods, quickly shirking his shirt off and curling up under a blanket. As he closes his eyes, he feels Patrick stroking his hair, his hand freezing but still comforting.
He stirs sometime later, feeling something cold behind him. He looks over his shoulder, still foggy from exhaustion, and sees Patrick smiling at him. Andy puts his head back against the pillow and snuggles the blanket closer.
“You’re cold,” he mutters, shifting slightly.
Patrick kisses the back of his neck. “You’re warm,” he says, his voice still weak, “it’s nice.” Andy bites his lip and rolls over.
“You didn’t drink enough blood,” Andy sighs, bringing his wrist up from under the blanket. “Here.” Patrick shakes his head, pushing Andy’s hand away, eliciting a confused look from Andy.
“I just need some rest,” Patrick smiles, “dying takes a lot out of a guy.” Andy stifles a laugh and turns back over, scooting back against Patrick, who smiles and pulls another blanket up, trying to keep Andy warm despite his own coldness. He nuzzles against Andy’s neck. “You’ll always be enough,” he whispers, yawning and falling asleep.