DISCLAIMER: I do not own. I wish that I did, but I don't. Warnings are: slash, language, violence, vampirism. This chapter was based almost entirely off the Moonlight episode, B.C. The club was changed for obvious reasons, but Black Crystal is taken straight from the episode. There is full-on making out in this chapter. Do not read if you don't like.
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Over the next few days, Pete stayed at his apartment, keeping an eye out on the news that was almost constantly playing in the background. He didn't want to leave for quite a few reasons, but the main one kept him inside: watch out for any more attacks.
It wasn't for a few more days that something interesting actually reached him.
He had been in his room, getting dressed when the text had appeared on the screen of his iPhone, insistent and from Spencer Smith, whom Pete had met at Buzzwire one of the first days he'd gone looking for Patrick. He picked it up and opened the message, creasing his eyebrows as he read it.
"There's a new drug out on the loose. Be careful, Pete: this isn't ordinary. Go check it out at Lennox Lounge."
When he clicked the message off and set the phone down, he sat down on his bed, hoodie half on. Could Spencer be right? Because if anything, this had to be a plot.
This had Nate written all over it. He ran toward the phone in the kitchen, pulling his hoodie on all the way as he went. Dialing Bill's number, Pete grabbed his car keys. When Bill answered, he hurried out an explanation, giving his friend no time to speak up.
"Listen, we've got a problem. There's been this new drug at Lennox Lounge—you know, that place up on Lakeview for the socialites—and I can bet you that Nate's planted it," he said quickly.
"Pete," Bill started before stopping, rethinking his words carefully. "You need to take it easy and stop being so paranoid. What if it's just a drug that's been recently introduced? It's not like that's impossible. Not everything has to do with Nate."
Pete sighed in frustration. "I know, but right now, with rogue vampires on the loose? You cannot tell me that it's just a coincidence. I'm gonna go get Patrick and go to Lennox." He knew that saying the last part was a mistake, but it was better to tell Bill this now than to have him find out later.
He was right; Bill was furious. "What—? Pete, are you senile? Bringing Patrick into the middle of all of us? He's in danger enough as it is! Don't you even—"
"Sorry Bill," Pete said, not sorry at all. "You can't change my mind."
He hung up and was out the door in seconds, hoping to God that Patrick was at work.
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Getting to Buzzwire, Pete impatiently scanned the rows of cubicles, his stomach twisted in knots as he looked for that familiar red hair. Finally spotting Patrick in the back by the copier, he forgot all about keeping up a human appearance as he raced as fast as he could over to him.
"Patrick!" Pete breathed as he reached him. Patrick jumped a little, looking thoroughly surprised to see Pete here. "What the hell?" he hissed, sounding equal parts mad and excited. Pete gave him a quick, genuine smile before lowering his voice.
"I need you to come with me to Lennox," he whispered.
Patrick looked at him, confused. "Lennox? Isn't that that place up on—"
"Lakeview, yeah. There's that new drug circulating there and I want to go check it out."
Patrick scoffed. "You're not even a reporter, dude. What's this got to do with you?"
"Everything!" Pete said a little too loudly, thankful that there was so much noise here that it was almost drowned out, although a few heads did turn to stare. He lowered his voice as soon as they turned away before speaking again. "I-I've got a… friend who works there, and I don't want him taking any of it."
Patrick looked disbelieving, but he sighed in resignation. "Fine, whatever. But we're taking your car, if you have one, that is."
Pete laughed. "Oh, I do. Trust me."
----
Sure, Pete had a car. It was a nice one, too—2007 Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren Roadster in silver. The only thing was, he liked to drive it a little fast, and obviously Patrick wasn't used to speeding. He cowered in his seat, clutching onto the door handle as Pete sped through the city traffic. Lakeview wasn't far from here, but for Patrick that seemed state lines away.
"Goddamnit, could you slow down?" Patrick squeaked as they narrowly avoided a run-in with two black Suburbans.
"No," Pete said happily, pressing his foot down harder onto the accelerator. "The faster the better, 'Trick."
Patrick opened his mouth, ready to rebuke Pete about his speeding and that stupid nickname, but he stopped himself, taking deep breaths as the club's front appeared on the side of the road.
When Pete parked the car, Patrick got out as quickly as he could, nearly falling onto the pavement in his haste while Pete laughed loudly from the other side of the car.
Giving him a death glare, Patrick followed Pete into the lounge. Pete looked for the VIP room, seeing it secluded in a corner and obscured by a velvet rope. As he walked toward them, a bouncer appeared, blocking his path. Pete looked up at the tall, burly man, widening his eyes.
"Excuse me, but I need to get in there," he tried, getting cut off by the bouncer.
"Sorry, you're not allowed in there unless you've got a pass."
Pete didn't back down. "What kind of pass are we talking about?"
The bouncer laughed. "You've got to be kidding me, kid," he said. "If you don't know what the hell you're doing here, then I suggest that you get out before you get hurt." Pete looked back at Patrick momentarily before walking over to him, leading the smaller man by the elbow to the bar.
Without asking Patrick what his preference was, he ordered two martinis. Pete waited for their drinks to arrive before speaking. "What do you think the pass is?" he asked quietly.
Patrick shrugged, looking uneasy. "I'm not sure. It could be anything—you know how these clubs get. They choose objects or ways that you wouldn't expect so that it's harder to be VIP."
As their drinks were slid to them, Pete watched a group of trendy girls approach the bouncer, each flashing him something that he then scanned with a scanner. It was apparently the pass, because the ropes were pulled back and they walked up the stairs and disappeared into the room. Even with superhuman vision, Pete couldn't clearly make out exactly what they had flashed, other than that it was their palm.
Patrick watched him as he sipped on his drink. Pete turned back, looking around the room. "I'll be right back," he murmured, getting up.
Being careful not to get caught, Pete hid and waited by the VIP room until another group came by, this time all men. He watched them carefully, studying every move. He didn't notice it, but Patrick was doing the exact same thing from across the lounge.
He had noticed something odd about Pete; the way he walked, the way he acted. He just didn't seem… human. Patrick shook off that thought, rolling his eyes as he sipped his martini. He was just imagining things, that was it. Pete was perfectly human.
Meanwhile, Pete stood as still as he could, watching the door for any more possible VIP goers. He had stood there for what felt like hours when a shriek came from upstairs. The bouncer rushed in, and Pete tried to peer without getting caught. He didn't hear Patrick come up behind him, so he was genuinely surprised when Patrick's velvety voice murmured in his ear, "What's going on?"
Pete jumped, eyes wide. He looked back at Patrick. "God, don't fucking scare me like that," he snapped. Patrick glared at him, though his anger was forgotten as one of the girls rushed down and out through the front doors, tears streaming down her face. Pete stared curiously after her. He wanted to rush after her and see what she did, but now others were starting to crowd around, curious.
It was the bouncer from before who came out, phone in hand as he dialed 911. Pete knew immediately, with a sickening feeling, that someone had died in there, no doubt one of the group that they had seen walk in only minutes before.
Patrick, on the other hand, was ecstatic. This would make for a great story. A perfect headline, all written and reported in firsthand experience by him, was more than enough to boost his position in the office.
Before he could reach for the notepad he kept in his pocket, Pete ushered him out the door, telling him quietly to get to the car. Patrick huffed, but obediently did so, avoiding the growing chaos. Pete snuck into the room with a quick look around, finding the girl's body slumped at a table.
He felt a twinge of sadness. This kind of death would never come to him, no matter how much he sometimes wished that it would. It wasn't that, though, that brought on the sadness. An underlying sense of grief fueled his compassion. Too many young people made poor decisions and ended up in body bags. Pete had seen it happen over and over again without mercy.
There was a peculiar smell on the air, almost like metal. It made him feel light-headed and dizzy, and he finally knew what it was. Silver, somewhere in this room, could be the cause of her death. If it affected him in this way, it had to be that. Some vampire myths were true, such as silver being highly poisonous.
Examining the body quickly, Pete saw a small vial in the girl's hands, recognizing it almost immediately. It was a vial of Black Crystal. Pocketing it, Pete headed out the door and to the car, fully intending to head to the morgue to visit Andy.
----
Patrick shuddered as he followed Pete into the sterile environment of the hospital basement. "Do I have to stay?" he whined, looking around. He hated, absolutely hated places like these. Death and sterilization just shouldn't come together in one room.
"Yes," Pete said, pulling at the sleeves of his red hoodie as he waited for Andy to appear.
"Why?"
"Because I said so," Pete snapped, not looking at Patrick. "I know that you're itching to be the first one to write up this story, and that's not going to happen, Stump. We don't need any publication on this just yet."
Patrick crossed his arms over his chest, looking like a scolded child. He didn't say anything else until Andy walked in, greeting Pete enthusiastically, tossing Patrick a curious look which Pete answered with his eyes. It was too early to introduce Patrick; right now, there were bigger problems to attend to.
"Did she arrive yet?" Pete asked him. Andy nodded, heading to pull on his gloves. "Just arrived, that's why I was late. What did you say the cause of death was, again?"
"Metal poisoning," Pete answered. "She also had a vial of this." He produced the nearly empty vial from his pocket, placing it on Andy's outstretched palm. "I'm almost positive it's a factor in her death as well." As he was passing it, the scent wafted up and he gasped.
Andy asked what was wrong, and Pete murmured, so that only he could hear, "Vampire blood. That vial is full of vampire blood. That's what Black Crystal is!" His voice rose a little at the end, excited with his discovery.
He knew what was going on; now, people were taking this drug and feeling the effects of being immortal. Except, it was all the good and none of the bad, which could lead to much bigger problems, something Nate would want to happen.
"Doesn't vampire blood affect the human body somehow?" Andy asked softly as he examined the dead girl's hands with practice care.
Pete nodded, remembering back to a conversation he had had with a friend of Adam's years ago. "Yeah. It gives the user a sense of temporary invincibleness. Problems can occur when mortals use that kind of drug, per se." They made sure to keep Patrick out of this, turning their backs and lowering their voices as much as possible.
Andy made a triumphant noise before he answered. "I think I know how our vic was getting into this club."
Pete walked over to him. "How?"
Andy turned the girl's hand over, pointing to a small incision he had made in the palm. "See that? That's a microchip. Everyone who gets into there must have this planted in their hand." He pulled it out with a pair of tweezers, sticking it into a bag and giving it to Pete.
"Don't tell anyone that I gave that to you," he said quietly. "It'll be my job."
Pete waved him off dismissively, placing the bag in his hoodie pocket. "Andy, I know. We just need to get in there and get to the bottom of this as soon as possible." He turned to Patrick, telling him that he would drive him home, to which Patrick answered with a sharp, "Of course you are, dumbass. I don't have a car here with me."
He didn't see Patrick slip the forgotten vial into his pocket as they left.
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Pete didn't see Patrick after he dropped him off at his apartment until early in the morning, though he shouldn't have seen him until the next day at the earliest. Pete was lying on his couch, staring at the ceiling and listening to his iPod. He almost didn't hear Patrick walk in, but thanks to his extremely good hearing he heard the door give its signature creak over the throbbing music.
Sitting up quickly, Pete was tensed before he recognized Patrick. He breathed out a shaky sigh of relief, smiling weakly as he forced his body to relax. "Shit, Patrick, you scared me…" he trailed off when he saw the look on Patrick's face, his outline illuminated by the hallway light.
Pete raised an eyebrow, turning off his iPod and stowing it away as he got up. That look wasn't Normal Patrick. It was the shadowed, dark look of pure, uninhibited lust.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked, taking in Patrick's determined expression.
Patrick smiled, eyes half-opened as he sauntered up to Pete, pushing the vampire onto the couch and straddling his hips. Pete gasped, eyes growing wide.
"Patrick, don't," he breathed, trying to squirm away, but Patrick grabbed Pete's wrists and pinned them on the armrest above his head with surprising strength. That should have tipped Pete off immediately, the extra strength and so-sure-of-himself act. The Normal Patrick Stump never acted like this.
"I want to," Patrick whispered as he leaned down to Pete's ear, trailing his lips down Pete's jawbone, stopping at the corner of his lips. Pete whined softly, trying to move his head away, to convey any different message to his body that wasn't this one. The one that wasn't right, that said that he was acting solely on his infatuation with this boy and it was okay to do this when it wasn't.
Patrick pushed the collar of Pete's shirt down, nipping at the exposed collarbone. A tiny sliver of tattoo was exposed as Pete gasped and tilted his head back, biting his lip. Patrick pressed his hips down while he pulled Pete's collar down more to lave his tongue over the tattoo.
Pete's hands automatically reached up for the small of Patrick's back, keeping his hips pinned to his own as their lips slid over one another, Patrick biting Pete's tongue as it left his mouth.
Pete arched up, groaning as he slipped his hands under Patrick's shirt, feeling the other man shiver. "Your hands are so cold," Patrick muttered against Pete's lips. Pete laughed, moving a hand to curl in Patrick's hair, just now noticing that he didn't have a hat on.
He could do this forever, oh God, he could. Patrick was everything he wanted, anything he needed. The hard curve of Patrick's dick pressed onto his own, and Pete moaned, hands grappling at Patrick's ass to push him down further.
"What's gotten into you?" Pete asked between kisses. Patrick was breathing heavily, pupils blown from more than just lust and want and need.
"The vial," he said, kissing Pete again before moving down to his neck. Pete titled his head back, eyes screwed shut as Patrick ravished his neck with tiny kisses and hard bites. Pete couldn't even yell at Patrick for taking the blood, not like this.
Patrick's hands trailed down, skimming Pete's shirt and toying with his belt, occasionally slipping his fingers under the waistband. They kissed, hard and rough, full of lust and aching need. Patrick shifted, keeping his hips pressed down as he traced Pete's exposed tattoo on his belly with reverent fingers. Sparks shot through Pete's body, and he clutched harder at Patrick's back, digging his nails in.
"Turn me," Patrick whispered hotly, breaking away to stare at Pete. Pete gaped at him, jaw slack. Patrick kissed him again, like he refused to be separated more than necessary.
"I can't," Pete whispered back, breaking away again. "It's not right. I can't turn you." He arched up, trying to get more friction, to get Patrick to forget this ridiculous idea. He needed to stop, but he couldn't. He had wanted this for so long, and here Patrick was, eager for him.
It's just the blood, a tiny voice said, snapping Pete out of his lust-filled state.
Pete finally pushed Patrick off of him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked at the floor instead of Patrick, knowing that the sight of him now, with his kiss-swollen lips and disheveled appearance, would prevent him from saying anything that wasn't fuck me right here.
"Patrick…" he began, calming himself down. "You're only feeling like this because you took that drug. Being a vampire… it doesn't feel like this all the time."
"How could it not?" Patrick's voice was both small and defying. Pete rubbed at his eyes out of habit, biting his lip that still tasted of Patrick. He thought carefully just how to explain this without going the wrong way.
"You're not invincible," he said. "You can still be killed, just not in so many ways as you can when you're a human."
"But I feel everything, Pete. Back there… you have no idea how incredible that felt. Just your—your hands on my skin, I thought that I could feel every separate atom working in our bodies. I could hear every tiny breath, every tiny movement."
Pete took Patrick's face in his hands, looking into his dilated eyes for a few seconds, trying to formulate what he needed to say into words that wouldn't hurt Patrick. Pete sighed. "That's only a short-term effect," he said quietly. "I don't always feel like that. You get used to hypersensitivity."
Patrick took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "C-can I stay here?" he asked quietly.
Pete smiled, leaning over to kiss the other man softly. "Of course you can."
He never stopped once to ask how Patrick knew to ask Pete to turn him; it didn't even occur to him. He let Patrick stay on the couch while he went to his room and lay down on the bed, turning on his side as he pulled his knees to his chest. There he stayed until the sun rose and Patrick began to stir in the living room.
When he walked into the living room, he found Patrick standing at his refrigerator door, carton of orange juice clutched in his hand. The cap was off and he was peering at the contents with an unrecognizable expression on his face. Pete's stomach sunk as Patrick looked up, saw him, and whispered, "I knew it."
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I'm not sure that I'm happy with this chapter, but oh well. After this it'll go back to most of my original content, I think. There's still one more big episode I haven't fit into here yet.
