Author's note: Taking my time to write this fic, because I don't want to rush it. Also been working on another series that's pretty much been taking up most of my attention. The town Peter stumbled into this time is a subtle reference to 'Vamp'. Would have mentioned the albino gang leader, but realized he could be confused for David XD.
"Mmmm...Smell this one, Charley!" Alex stood at the entrance of a boutique shop on the boardwalk, spritzing her wrist with a rose-scented perfume. The fragrance soaked in, seeping around her sleeve as she'd forgotten to roll it up. "Darn," she cursed, waving her arm about to try and dry it off.
"You don't need body sprays to smell good, Alex," he replied, pulling her in close for a quick kiss on the forehead.
"Charley, people are watching!" Alex laughed, shoving him away and re-capping the perfume. At first it smelled pleasant, but the drying scent was a little too close to 'eau de old lady' for comfort.
"If I can't kiss my future wife whenever I want, then what's the point of even getting married? Besides...there's things we did under that blanket on campus that would make even Peter blush...and the guy's ancient," he pouted.
Alex shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Listen, it's getting dark. I want to go back to that video store tonight and thank Max for helping us out. The girl at the counter told me he only works evenings, so I think now is probably the best time to catch him."
Charley's smile fell, and for a moment she saw a shadow of fear flit across his features before he quickly tried to recover as he threw an arm around her shoulder to lead Alex from the store. "If you want to do that, I don't see any problem. Just..." Charley licked his lips, "just...keep your concealer on you. The one with the mirror."
"Charley!" Alex exclaimed, pulling away from him. "If I pulled that thing out every time you thought someone working an evening shift was a vampire, people would begin to think I was developing a mental condition."
Charley frowned, crossing his arms and stepping away, "Alex. Twice. I've been through this thing twice. I think it's perfectly reasonable to take precautions. Besides, you know vampires can influence you to do just about anything if you're not on your guard! If that guy is a blood-drinking psycho-" his voice was beginning to rise, and Alex leaned forward to clamp a hand over his mouth, glancing about her with an embarrassed expression, hoping nobody was paying too much attention to the scene he was trying to make.
"Listen to me, Charley Brewster. Enough is enough. You may have PTSD, but you can't live your life in fear. It isn't living. I've got a crucifix in my pocket, and the man wears glasses for god's sake. Not to mention, the prescription looks awfully strong. I doubt he could make eye contact with anybody, let alone hypnotize me to do his bidding. So stop behaving like an ass." She pressed her lips together tightly after speaking. It really wasn't how she would talk to a patient. But he wasn't one. He was her fiancee.
Charley placed a hand on hers, pulling it away from his mouth. "You're right. I just want you to be careful, Alex. That's all. I'm never going to be able to let this go. And I like to know you're safe. I mean..." He sighed, looking up at the ceiling before back at her, "what if...what if Regine and Jerry had another sibling? What if...what if there was another one who managed to slip away, and just spends every evening waiting for us both to be caught off guard?"
Alex leaned forward and kissed Charley's forehead, remaining pressed against him just a little longer than a second before pulling away and sweeping his bangs across his forehead in a soothing gesture, "we'll worry about it if it happens. But it's not going to. So just let it go, okay?"
"...I'll try."
"That, my friend, was far more of an adventure than I should have liked it to be," Peter told himself as he pulled his car into the driveway to park. The place wasn't really homey by his definition. Nor was it of a particularly enviable class. Whoever owned this place must be an interesting character indeed, he mused, as he pushed his car door open and slid out. He took a moment to straighten his suit jacket and brush a bit of lint from his tie. The duster and remainder of his traditional get-up were safely packed in the trunk. Peter had decided it for the best to save them unless he absolutely knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would be rushing into some sort of mishap with Charley. It was best not to seek out and invite danger, after all.
And of course, when he had taken that one wrong turn after he'd managed to finally get to the freeway the prior evening, it had been most unpleasant to stumble into that small town of vampires. Thankfully they'd been too distracted by a gang of thugs, especially a particularly vicious little girl, to notice him when he'd been forced to make a pit stop. As much as he may have liked to dispatch with every single one of those awful creatures, Peter had no interest in rushing into a fight like that without at least one person by his side to support...and possibly hide behind.
"Who're you?" A gruff old man called out from the front porch of the house, stalking towards Peter.
"Oh, goodness, a friendly face at last!" Peter exclaimed, rushing forward with his hands extended, "I do hope you can help me. I was given the impression that my dear friends, a mister Charley Brewster and his lovely companion, Alex, were staying here for the time being. Am I correct in assuming this is the place I was looking for?"
The old man grunted, remaining on the porch, and not making one single move to step forward and greet Peter.
"Don't really get many guests around here. Don't like em."
Peter smiled weakly, lowering his hands. Oh dear. This man was most definitely not a gracious host in the slightest. "Ah, yes...well, I completely understand. I assure you, an unexpected person appearing on my doorstep would set me on my heels as well. But I am, in fact, not planning to stay the evening and trouble any of you more than I have to. I simply wanted to be sure my friends were settling into this...enchanting..." he paused at the last word, endeavoring to be polite about a coastal town full of so many scandalously under-dressed women and men with poor manners, "...city..."
The old man scratched his chin and watched Peter, still not moving from his spot. It was an unsettling moment, standing in front of this stranger, feeling as if he were being picked apart piece by piece like some sort of science project. But Peter somewhat understood the man's behavior. Clearly he wasn't raised to be quite so gracious of a host, if his surroundings were anything to judge by.
"Alright. I believe you. You can wait here, but I ain't inviting you in. Do whatever you want," he shrugged, heading inside the house.
'Not inviting me in? What on earth...' Peter decided to assume the man was just implying he shouldn't overstay his welcome. Not that he wasn't allowed inside the house...so he followed. Americans could be so incredibly rude sometimes.
