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Halloween Challenge 2021

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This first chapter is just to say hello, and let you all in on my plan for this challenge. I didn't do one last year but two years ago in 2019 I challenged myself to post something fall and/or Halloween themed every day in October. It was really hard but truthfully a lot of fun. I met my good friend Jo through that challenge and I learned quite a bit on how to plan out a challenge. Last time, I didn't really go into it with a game plan and so there were a few chapters being written and edited at the same time to meet our deadline.

But this year is different. The beginning of September I decided that I would come prepared this time. Me and Jo came up with about 34 prompts and I've been rolling two d20's to pick each day. I'm a few days behind because of work and stuff, but currently, as I'm writing this, I've gotten about 21 days already finished. So, this is a long way of saying that the uploads will, hopefully, be a bit higher quality than the 2019 challenge And that they were much more thought out. Just like last time, I've found one that's given me brain worms. And so with the help of another friend, I will most likely be putting out another long fic that grew from a prompt on this list.

 

Alright, I think that's everything. Posting will be every day in October and I'll include chapter specific warnings in each chapter's summary. And lastly, I want to thank Jo for helping me with the prompts and the editing, couldn't do it without her. And I wanna thank Raven for helping me come up with Ideas For said prompts and for world-building That prompt that's gonna end up as a Thing.

I'll see you all tomorrow for the first chapter!

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Prompt#9 College party nerd costume (pete and mikey)

Mikey doesn’t even know why he agreed to come to this stupid party with his brother. Especially since said brother is now sucking face with his stupid boyfriend in the other room.

The party is loud, with kids packed-in like fucking sardines. Mikey’s costume, the one that was supposed to be matching with Gerard’s, is itchy. And he’s not even really drinking the mystery beer in his cup. And he’s definitely not sneaking off to make out with someone. No, that would imply that anyone was even talking to him in the first place.

Gerard had been adamant that he’d end up having more fun here than he would have at home. But at least at home he had re-runs of Buffy and pizza.

Here, all he has is a costume no one else seems to get and a growing headache.

And sure, he could take Gerard’s advice and actually talk to someone here but everyone’s either wasted or half naked. And those just, aren’t Mikey’s kinda people.

So, he finds a quieter corner. Somewhere between the kitchen and the living room of whoever’s house they’re in. Probably some rich kid from school whose parents don’t care. Mikey takes an experimental sip of his beer and it’s even worse than he thought it’d be. He gags and doesn’t think twice about pouring it into a nearby houseplant.

He thinks it’s a cactus. Or maybe some kind of succulent. Is there a difference? Mikey isn’t sure but he does know that he wishes he’d have thought ahead enough to bring his charger. His phone is at a whopping 25% and it’s barely 11pm. He’s in for a long night.

But, as fate would have it, not long after he’s thought that, someone comes around the corner and sinks back into the shadow of Mikey’s hiding spot.

The person doesn't seem to notice him at first and all Mikey can do is stare, rather than do the sensible thing and you know, say something.

He doesn’t recognize them but the person has short black hair. It looks straightened to the point of near-burning. Their skin is a light brown and Mikey can see way more of it than is strictly normal. There’s a plastic pumpkin stem glued to a headband on their head, while a crop top hangs loosely above their midriff with the words “Pumpkin King” across the chest. They’re wearing booty shorts too, ones that show off the hem of their underwear and their toned legs.

To say Mikey isn’t staring would be a lie.

The person lets their head thump against the wall behind them, though Mikey can’t hear the sound so much as feel it because of how loud the music is. They turn their head towards him, rolling it against the wall as if they’re too lazy to stand back up fully.

When Mikey and the stranger make eye contact, they shoot him a dizzying smile. All teeth and squinted eyes. And Mikey just stares back because this person is beautiful and they’re staring at him.

With his stupid black horns that Gerard made him. He has golden, rectangular contacts in and he’s certain that he just looks weird in the faux black fur jacket his brother found somehow. But the stranger doesn’t seem put off by his obscure costume.

“I’m Pete!” Shouts the stranger, Pete, over the music.

Mikey manages to shout his name back. To his surprise, Pete smiles even brighter. His eyes drift down Mikey’s body and then very quickly back up to meet his eyes.

“I like your costume!” Pete says, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs.

They both navigate the crowd until they get upstairs. The music is just a thumping in the background as they both slide down the wall beside each other. It’s nice actually, so long as he doesn’t listen to any of the noises coming from the bedrooms on this floor.

Instead, he thinks about Pete. And why he lit up like that when he saw Mikey. If his expression wasn’t so genuine, he’d think that Pete was making fun of him for his costume.

It’s eating away at Mikey, so he gathers his courage and asks.

“You know what I’m supposed to be?”

“Well yeah,” Pete says with that huge smile, leaning over to bump their shoulders. “You’re Black Phillip from The Witch. Though you’re way prettier than he is. You here to tempt me?”

Mikey feels his face heating up and tries to fight it. Usually it’s so easy to keep everything hidden around people. And definitely no one has made him blush with two sentences before.

But Pete feels different. Mikey can’t explain it.

“You’re the first person who’s guessed correctly,” Mikey says, omitting the part about no one else even trying to take a guess about his costume.

Pete laughs, a soft, full bodied thing that makes Mikey’s heart race.

“What’s my prize then?”

He bats his eyelashes at Mikey and this time, he can’t stop the blush that heats his face.

“Wanna get out of here and get some food?” Mikey offers, feeling a smile begin to form on his lips.

He doesn’t know why he’s warmed up so quickly to Pete, but he’d be willing to find out. And, thankfully, Pete quickly agrees to the offer. Mikey doesn’t bother texting Gerard that he’s leaving. He doesn’t think his brother would notice anyway.

And if he comes home early that morning with kiss swollen lips then… well that’s his and Pete’s business.

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30. Gerard playing with a flame (witchy vibes)

Gerard stands alone in a dark room. The only light comes from the small, flickering flame in his palm. It’s touch feels warm but not burning. He plays with the little flame for a moment, switching hands and smiling as it dances with his movements.

It’s not quite sentient, or alive. But it is also not inanimate. The magic he’s breathing into it gives the flame a semblance of life; for the fleeting moments he holds it in his palm. Everything has the capability for life but not what most would consider to be alive. The flame has no thoughts. No feelings. It simply exists.

Gerard isn’t giving it life, not really. And he’s certainly not taking it away. It’s hard to explain, something he has tried to explain. His magic is what brings the life out of the little flame.

But, as all things do, it ends. He transfers the flame into the metal bowl beside him. It flickers and melts into a liquid ball of light and energy.

He begins to speak under his breath, quiet words that flow out rhythmically. A language that so few people know and even fewer will hear. Gerard breathes through the last lines, energy welling up inside him and joined by the remainders of the flame.

The last word seems to echo in their air, reverberating as the spell ends abruptly. Gerard smiles softly to himself. It worked.

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1. Bats! Pete and Mikey are vampires who can turn into bats. Cuteness ensues

It started out as an accident. Mikey was curled up on the couch with Pete, trying to ignore the on-going storm outside. He’s not usually scared by storms but that day had been long and his nerves fried. So they were doing what they always did.

They commandeer the couch from Gerard and spread out on it, embracing each other so tightly that it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Mikey is trying to focus on the movie playing quietly on the TV, on the gentle rhythm of Pete's hand rubbing up and down his back comfortingly. Each flash of lighting startles him.

He knows it’s not the same as sunlight, that he won’t be hurt just by the bright flash, but that doesn’t stop him from flinching. It’s hard to forget what the sunlight felt like. And even now, decades later, he’s still clinging to Pete at each clap of thunder.

When lightning strikes the building next to their apartment, the ensuing bang of thunder causes Mikey to jump. He feels a strange tug in his stomach and then suddenly he’s tiny.

Pete makes a surprised noise and looks down at Mikey.

“Mikey?” he asks aloud, and Mikey can feel the confusion rolling off of Pete.

He goes to say something, to assure Pete that he’s fine. But all that comes out is a tiny squeak. One that isn’t anything close to human. Not that he is human anymore, hasn’t been for a long time, but that’s not the point.

He looks down at himself slowly, realization setting in that something is different.

He’s a bat.

It takes a second to snap in his head. But yeah. That’s what he is. He’s small, tiny enough that when Pete reaches his hand down to pick him up, Mikey can hop into his palm like it’s nothing.

He has wings too, he realizes, and he gives them an experimental flap.

Pete’s eyes are wide. Neither of them knew this was possible. I mean, vampires turning into bats was just a myth. And besides, Mikey’s been turned for over a century now and Pete for nearly 60 years. They would have figured it out by now, right?

Apparently not.

It’s reassuring though that when Mikey gives a gentle push against the bond connecting them, he feels Pete relax. At least that’s still there. He doesn’t know what he’d do without it. Pete’s voice flows through his head softly, surprised more than worried.

“Mikey?”

“Still me, my love,” he answers, squeaking and nuzzling his little nose in Pete’s palm.

The smile that blooms on Pete’s face fills Mikey with affection. He could know Pete for a thousand years and never get tired of that smile.

“I didn’t know this was possible,” Pete says next, still holding him so gently.

“Me neither. But our bond was impossible too. Until we created it.”

That earns him another fond, lovesick smile and Pete’s other hand coming up to gently pet his head.

“We’ll figure this out,” Pete tells him aloud.

Mikey just nods as best he can. It’s not so bad, being a bat. In fact, his earlier anxiety has calmed down considerably. He could get used to this.

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It’s become natural for Mikey to turn when he’s having a rough day. Sometimes, Pete will walk in the door after work and Mikey will already be a little bat sleeping in the bed specifically made for him. And he’ll wake up to Pete gently picking him up, smiling and telling him how cute he is.

He usually puts Mikey in his hoodie pocket, so he can stay close without being in harm's way. Because, as they’ve found out, bats are incredibly fragile.

So, like right now, Mikey is safely bundled up in the back of Pete’s hood. This way he can stay close to Pete while he cooks dinner. Mikey is perfectly content in laying there, with Pete’s hand coming up every so often to give him a small piece of fruit.

He stays like this for a few hours at a time, sometimes longer if he’s particularly tired. Turning isn’t easy. He’d learned that when he managed to turn back after that first time. It’s exhausting and he usually ends up curling around Pete and napping it off.

Pete’s hand comes back up, giving Mikey a small slice of strawberry. He eats it happily, all of his worries from earlier in the day forgotten.

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It’s months later that Mikey has the realization that real bats can fly.

The second that thought hits him, he’s crawling out of Pete’s lap and standing on the back of the couch. Pete watches as Mikey flaps his wings, trying to lift off.

He manages to hover for a second before floating back down. He tries again, this time pushing off with more force. He almost manages to stay in the air but after a few seconds drops back onto the couch.

Mikey wonders if jumping would help. It certainly couldn’t hurt, he decides.

He springs forward, jumping off the side of the couch and allowing his wings to catch him. And it works!

He can feel Pete’s proudness, how he’s smiling at Mikey even though he’s behind him. Mikey would be smiling too, if that was something bats could do. Either way, he lets out a happy squeak and pushes himself forward.

It’s hard to get his balance and he wobbles a bit in the air as he figures out exactly how hard he needs to flap his wings to go forward. But eventually he gets it. He circles around Pete, around the living room. He always wanted to fly, even when he was human. It’s insane that he can now.

He’s starting to get a little dizzy, going round in circles again and again. But he doesn’t stop. He’s having too much fun.

Mikey wonders if Pete can do this too? Turn into a bat. Maybe it’s only because Mikey’s older. But then again, all of Pete’s abilities as a vampire are tied to Mikey’s. He’s nearly just as strong as Mikey is, even though Mikey’s nearly a century older.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts, in the image of him and Pete flying together, that he doesn’t lean enough on his next pass by a wall. He slams into it roughly, ending up in a lump on the floor.

Pete’s by his side in a heartbeat, on his knees and hovering his hands over Mikey. Too afraid to touch him.

“I’m okay,” Mikey assures him, going to stand back up.

He cries out when he feels the sudden white hot pain shoot up his wing. Pete picks him up then, as he’s still reeling from the pain. He makes a distressed squeak, afraid now.

“Let me see,” Pete says softly, very carefully lifting Mikey’s wing and inspecting it.

Mikey waits for it to heal as he does so. Even if it’s broken, it should be nearly healed by now. One of the perks of being a vampire.

But it’s not, it still hurts just as badly as Pete worries over him and carries him over to his bed. Maybe as a bat, his healing factor doesn’t work as fast?

He tells Pete as such, earning a thoughtful, worried hum in return.

“Maybe if you turn back?” he suggests.

Mikey closes his eyes and concentrates. Nothing happens. He tries again, attempting to push the pain to the back of his mind. It doesn’t work. He can’t concentrate enough.

“Are you stuck?”

Mikey nods hopelessly, feeling panic begin to close in on him. Pete, of course, feels it too and wraps his hand around Mikey. He lifts him again, careful not to jostle his hurt wing. “It’s okay. You’re probably just tired,” he tells him gently. “Let's make you something to eat dear, and then we can get you turned back to normal.”

The sureness in Pete’s voice calms Mikey, just like always, and he nods, letting himself be carried into the kitchen.

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21. New House Haunted (fob)

Pete refuses to believe their new house is haunted.

It’s too fucking cliche. Sure, the house that he and Patrick ended up buying is old, but like- creepy ghost house old would be a bit too on the nose. Right? And besides, he doesn’t even believe in that kinda stuff.

And yet, from their first night in the new house, Patrick has insisted that there was something else living there with them.

Pete blew it off, assuring Patrick and himself that the noises were probably just old pipes in the walls or something. He knows they’re basically following every horror movie script ever, but he doesn’t care. Because this isn’t a horror movie. It’s their life. And ghosts aren't real.

So that's why, two days after they move in, as he’s searching through one of the boxes in the kitchen for a pan, he doesn’t expect to hear Patrick shout his name. Pete looks up immediately though, worried because it sounded like something was wrong.

He frowns and stands, listening to the too-quiet house around him. He waits for Patrick to say something else but after a few long moments, nothing comes.

Confused, and more than a little worried, Pete goes in search of his husband.

And he finds him easily, napping in their room with his hat pulled down over his eyes. It’s a sweet sight, one that makes Pete’s heart feel full. But it doesn’t explain the strange noise he heard. Or how it sounded just like Patrick.

Maybe he’d imagined it? The stress of moving and the impending weight of their new album drop could just be messing with his head. He’ll have to text Andy, invite him and Joe over so they can all relax a little.

The second time Pete notices something off, he’s in the shower. He’s doing his usual thing, singing along to his music terribly and doing more dancing than cleaning. He’s staring right at the bottle of shampoo when it flings itself off the shelf.

All Pete can do is stare at it for a moment, trying to work out how on earth it could have just flown like that. Because the shelf is away from the spray of water. And he hadn’t even touched the bottle yet.

He confronts Patrick about it when he gets out.

“Yeah dude,” Patrick tells him seriously. “I fucking told you that shit’s weird here.”

“But ghosts aren’t real.”

Pete knows he sounds like a stubborn child, arguing over the obvious, but he can’t help it. This is just his overactive imagination combined with stress from tying off the last strings of their new album. Right?

Patrick’s giving him a look, with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrows raised. It means Pete’s being an idiot. He decides to try and play along with this, that ghosts are a real thing.

“Okay so… what should we do?”

Patrick rolls his eyes.

“They’re not hurting us,” he says thoughtfully. “So maybe we should just leave them alone.”

Pete balks at him. Leave the ghosts alone? The ones currently driving Pete insane?

Okay fine, maybe that’s an exaggeration. But still.

Shouldn’t they like… find a way to help them move on or whatever?

“Why?” Pete asks, dumbfounded.

“Because they’re not hurting anything. They’re nice, if a little restless.”

“So we just… let them stay?”

“Yep,” Patrick says calmly.

Pete groans. Of course this is gonna be his life now. Living with ghosts and not even in the fun metaphorical way that he’d be able to twist into lyrics for a song. Nope. In the very real way of ghosts flinging shampoo bottles at his head. Great.

Patrick is so lucky Pete loves him.

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Gerard knows that he’s not supposed to be out here. His mom will kill him if she finds him out here again. And he doesn’t want to think about the look on Mikey’s face if he sees him either.

The well worn hoodie he’s wrapped in holds out most of the chill from the night air. It’s almost October and soon the leaves will really start to fall. There’s already a few on the ground, surrounding him as he leans back against the headstone.

It’s late, well after midnight if he had to guess. Though, he hadn't looked at the time when he’d climbed out of his parent’s basement and snuck here.

A little bit of moonlight is working it’s way down through the nearby trees and Gerard tries to focus his eyes to see anything beyond blurry shadows.

He sniffs and runs the back of his hand under his nose. He’s not crying. He’s not.

He swore he wouldn’t come back here and drink himself half to death for his mom or brother to find him in the morning.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t sit here and let the quiet of the night ground him. He’d just be sitting at home anyway. Thinking about her and digging himself down a pit again.

Besides, it’s not all that bad, sitting in a cemetery so late.

He’s done this before, let the tombstones be his friends for the night. Sometimes he’d bring a book or his sketchbook. Others other times he’d just carry his headphones with him.

Gerard’s always been the weird kid. It makes sense that one of the places he feels most comfortable in is a cemetery. Sometimes he would drag his brother out here too. But Mikey’s in a weird age where he has his own life now, separate from Gerard’s, but also sometimes follows him around like he did when they were little.

But they’re still close. And that’s part of the reason why Gerard is just sitting here tonight.

He sighs, something deep and heavy. Melodramatic too, most likely. But he’s alone so he doesn’t care.

“Mikey went back to school today,” Gerard says into the quiet air, knowing that no one can hear him. “I was going to but-”

He coughs to clear his voice.

He had almost gone to school but then everything had hit him all over again and he just couldn’t.

“I miss you.”

He hates how his voice breaks.

If his grandma were here, she’d probably tell him it was okay. She did that a lot. When his head got to be too much.

And then she’d-

Gerard jumps when he hears footsteps crunching in the leaves to his right. He turns quickly, heart racing.

There’s a shadow moving nearby. He squints, half frozen in fear and half too curious for his own good. It seems to be getting closer.

It’s then that he hears music, tiny and muffled. Coming from headphones.

As the figure gets a little closer, Gerard realizes it’s a kid. One he recognizes from school.

He’s still debating between hiding and calling out, when the kid seems to realize he’s sitting there. Frank, he’s pretty sure his name is, takes out one earbud.

“Who’s there?”

Frank’s squinting, and Gerard hears the song end and a new one begin, too muffled for him to make out.

“Um- Hi?”

Gerard lifts his hand in greeting, grateful for the darkness so Frank can’t see how much of a wreck he probably is.

“Hey dude,” Frank answers, closing the distance between them and plopping down beside him without any hesitation.

Gerard tenses, unsure. He barely knows Frank. They have a couple of classes together. And it’s not like Gerard really has friends.

Frank fumbles with something in his jacket pocket before there’s a metallic click and the flame of a lighter igniting. Gerard watches the familiar motions of someone lighting a cigarette. But he’s surprised when Frank wordlessly offers him one and extends his lighter.

As Gerard gratefully lights the cigarette between his lips, Frank takes out his other earbud and turns off the music.

They sit there in silence for a moment. But it’s not a bad sort of silence. Gerard’s hyperfocused on how close they’re sitting, on the way the wind stings the wetness of his cheeks.

“What’re you doing here?” Gerard asks, feeling his face heat in embarrassment.

It’s a stupid question. Frank’s clearly doing what Gerard’s done many nights. Being a weirdo in the cemetery. It’s a small town. There’s not much else to do other than like, go to football games and the movies.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Frank answers easily, exhaling slowly.

“Me neither.”

“How’d you sneak in?” Gerard asks, fiddling with a hole in his jeans.

“Wha’d you mean? Same way as you I bet.”

No,” Gerard laughs a little. “With all the damn pins on your jacket. They would hear you a mile away.”

Frank shoves him lightly, “Fuck off.”

“Never.”

Gerard’s laughter fades and he turns back to Frank. “I like them though. Your uh- pins.”

It sounds stupid and he’s almost about to apologize. But then Frank scoots a little closer to him, until their thighs are touching.

“Yeah? Don’t pretend I didn’t see your bag. You’ve probably got just as much as I do.”

Gerard nods, realizing suddenly that they’re flirting. That Frank is sitting here, with him, this close, and flirting with him.

His face is on fire.

“Um, what were you listening to? Earlier, I mean. Before you sat down.”

He didn’t realize he had so much in common with Frank. Sure, they were both sorta loners. And Gerard liked to wear dark hoodies and black jeans and load his backpack up with as many pins as possible.

Frank was cool though. Not in the star football player dude cool. More so as the punk kid in his class that punched said star football player out because he tried to grope a freshman. He’s not someone Gerard ever thought would talk to him.

And yet, here he is. He’s explaining the song he was listening to earlier, talking about the band and how he saw them in concert once. Gerard’s listening. Kinda.

But he’s more focused on how Frank has moved even closer, until they’re practically in each other's laps. And he’s talking with his hands, going into detail about the meaning behind the lyrics.

And Gerard has a moment.

He’s sitting here in this cemetery at god knows what time of night, with a really cute punk boy from his class. And he’s only human. So when Frank takes a breath, he leans over and kisses him.

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16. Finding cat and taking it home to help it and finding out it’s a person (Pete and Patrick)

Listen, Pete isn’t usually the kind of guy who’d come home with a new pet out of the blue. He’s always adopted from shelters before and made sure he was ready for a new addition to his home. And he’s stumbled upon a few stray animals in his life, all of which he’s very quickly taken to the nearest vet or foster.

Now, it’d be a lie to say he hadn’t wanted to keep each of the animals he’s found. There was an older dog he found once in the parking lot at work. It’d taken everything in him to give the dog to a good friend to take care of. Truth of it was, Pete didn’t have the time or money to give an older dog the kind of care that it needed.

But right now, standing here in the icy November rain, Pete knows in his heart he won’t be able to give this one up. It’s a cat, a black cat with a piece of it’s ear missing. It’s deep green eyes are staring into Pete’s soul. He used to laugh when people described their animals as having old souls. Or when they said that they were old gods trapped in mortal bodies. But, even though this cat is shaking and covered in what Pete hopes is just mud, it really does look like something more than “just a cat”. He says that because cats do always seem to have a personality of their own.

His heart clenches though at the thought of leaving this poor thing at the vet. He always makes sure to take them to a non-kill shelter, because he couldn’t live with himself if he allowed them to be subjected to such a thing. But that doesn’t mean he feels great about snuggling them in the car and then leaving them there in a cage.

He puts it on his mental to do list. Find a free roam, non-kill shelter in his area. But for the moment, he bundles the cat in his jacket in an attempt to shield it from the rain and makes his way to his car. It’s the longest five minute walk of his life but, surprisingly, the cat doesn’t try to escape. Usually feral cats and strays are not happy about being picked up and carted away. But this one just burrows into Pete’s side and cries disapprovingly every time he jostles it too much.

But at last, they get to his car. Pete’s fingers feel numb as he tries to unlock his door and, once he succeeds, he fumbles turning the key in the ignition.

Once the car is running and blessed warm air is coming out of the vents, Pete removes the cat from his jacket and places it in the passenger's seat. The poor thing is soaked to the bone and, even though Pete’s freezing too, he slips off his jacket and makes a comfortable place for it to lie on their way home. Pete steals worried looks out of the corner of his eye as he makes the slow drive to his apartment. The roads are terrible, meaning he has to go under the speed limit the entire time, but, at last, Pete pulls into the parking lot in front of his building.

He debates for a moment how he’s going to get the cat inside without risking it running away. In the end, he decides to test his luck with wrapping the cat in his jacket and hoping for the best.

Much to his surprise, the cat doesn’t claw or bite him as he basically swaddles it in his old jacket. It just stares up at him with huge eyes, slightly judgmental in the way that all cats are but, if he didn’t know any better, he’d say it looked grateful too.

He shrugs and all but runs up the steps into his building. Pete’s soaked again by the time he gets to his door and he’s already longing for a long, hot bath to get the cold out of his bones.

But first, he closes the door behind him and carefully sets the cat down. It uncurls and stares up at him, eyes still huge and filled with more emotion than he would expect.

Either way, the thing is still soaked and probably just as cold as he is. He wonders if a hot bath would do it any good. Cats hate water though, so he decides against it. Maybe just, wrapping it in a warm, dry blanket would help?

He quickly runs into the other room and returns with a fuzzy blanket from his bed. Cautiously, still surprised by the cat's unphased attitude, he wraps it in the blanket and sets it comfortably onto his couch.

Pete stands there, watching the cat begin to lick its paws, before deciding it isn’t in any danger and he should probably get himself warm too now.

The cat is still sitting on his couch when he emerges from the shower, pleasantly warm and finally rid of the annoying chills the rain had left him. When he walks over to check on it, he finds that the cat has fallen asleep. It’s face is relaxed and it’s on it’s way to being completely dry. Pete smiles and pets it gently.

He’ll go to the store tomorrow and pick up some food and toys for it. Oh and a bed. It needs a nice comfortable place to sleep after being on the streets for who knows how long.

He’s still creating the list in his head of all the things he’s going to buy tomorrow as he falls asleep.

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The morning comes too early, as always, and Pete drags himself into the kitchen to make coffee. His eyes are half opened, his thoughts sluggish. It’s not until he walks through his living room, intent on sitting down at the tv and playing on his phone until the caffeine kicks in, that he remembers the cat.

In fact, he remembers the cat and notices the grown man sleeping on his couch at the same moment. He stands there, mouth open and coffee clutched in his hand as the man stretches and opens his eyes.

The blanket Pete had given the cat last night covers the man's naked lower half. And Pete can’t decide if he should grab the nearest sharp object and defend himself or start running.

The man seems confused and gives a tilt of his head before glancing down at himself. Realization dawns on his face and he pushes himself up.

It’s then Pete notices the bruises covering the strange man’s torso. He’s covered in cuts and scrapes and bruises, all in varying degrees of healing.

And, when the man brushes his short, strawberry blond hair out of his eyes, Pete notices his ear has a piece of it missing at the top. The pieces click together in Pete’s mind and he damn near drops his coffee when they do.

“Are you the cat?” He asks, surprising himself by how un-terrified his voice sounds.

He certainly feels terrified.

How the hell did a stray cat turn into a human sitting naked on his couch??

“Yes,” the guy says slowly, somewhere between cautious and annoyed.

“How did- But you were-”

Pete’s head is spinning in circles.

This isn’t possible. Is it? No.

No, people don’t just, turn into animals. This has to be like- some sort of prank. Or-or a hallucination. Maybe he’s still dreaming.

Oh actually that’d make a lot of sense. He has weird dreams sometimes. Never really as detailed as this. But he does have them and-

“I can turn into animals,” the man says, voice still carefully slow.

“What are you?”

Pete doesn’t mean to blurt it out like that. He’s pretty sure that’s rude. But also, what the fuck?

“I’m human,” the guy answers. “Mostly. I just prefer to be a cat more often.”

“Okay… why were you outside then?”

The guy fiddles with a string on the blanket covering his lap and Pete notices now how sick he looks. He looks like he could really use a warm meal and somewhere to sleep. And he doesn’t have to say it out loud for Pete to know that he hasn’t had either of those things in a while.

He’s not about to pry though, not when it clearly is making him so uncomfortable. So he tries again, starting smaller this time.

“I’m Pete,” He says, smiling and holding out his hand.

The man eyes him cautiously but shakes his outstretched hand.

“Patrick,” he mumbles.

“Nice to meet you ‘Trick. I was just about to make some breakfast. Care to join me?”

It’s only a half-lie. He’d been intending to make himself something to eat, eventually. But clearly Patrick needs it. And some clothes. And probably someone to look at a few of those nasty looking bruises on his torso.

And Pete still finds himself unable to imagine not helping. He’d been right, this one was very different from all the other strays he’s picked up before.

Chapter Text

20. Carving pumpkins(mcr)

Ray walks through the door at a quarter to six. He’d stayed late at work, helping the new kid learn the shelving system. He’s exhausted and the dreary October weather, while beautiful to look at, was not pleasant to walk through.

His clothes are uncomfortably damp from the light, cold drizzle and his feet hurt from the walk.

Ray hangs his jacket on the hook by the door and slips out of his shoes. His backpack goes on the floor by the door, beside his friend's bags. Gee must have invited everyone over.

The smell of coffee, a near constant smell in their home, and something suspiciously sweet wafts down the hallway. Curious, Ray ventures into the kitchen.

Gee, Frank, and Mikey are all sitting at the kitchen table. They each have a mug out beside them and Ray smiles as he notices Gee’s hair tied up into a bun. He looks adorable, completely focused on whatever he’s drawing. It’s not an unusual sight for Ray to come home to. Gee bent over his latest project. What is surprising however, is the fact that both Frank and Mikey are drawing too.

None of them have noticed Ray yet, so he stands in the doorway and watches them for a moment. He finds that the sweet smell he noticed earlier is coming from a pumpkin scented candle on the counter. And, looking further, he notices four real pumpkins on the floor beside the table.

Ah. So that’s what they’re up to.

“Hey,” Ray calls, walking into the room as three heads lift at his voice.

Mikey nods to him, an almost-smile peaking out on his face. He hides it by taking a long drink of his coffee.

Frank beams at him, full of energy as Ray comes over to peer over his shoulder at what he’s working on.

“We’re doing the designs for our pumpkins.”

“Cool,” Ray says. “What’s yours supposed to be?”

Frank elbows him and calls him a dick, but quickly starts pointing out the shape of the haunted house he’s gonna carve. It doesn’t really look like a haunted house if Ray’s being honest. But his ribs hurt from Frank’s bony little elbow and so he just nods and tells him it looks cool.

He sits down in the free seat next to Gee and leans over to give him a quick kiss.

“Hi, baby.”

Gee blushes deeply but quickly turns Ray’s attention onto what he’s drawn.

“So I was thinking,” Gee says, pointing at the rather complex design he’s done. “ I wanted to do like, something everyone would recognize but not something over-done. You know?”

Ray nods, smiling at Gerard’s enthusiasm.

“Well, everyone knows Hocus Pocus. It’s like, one of the best non-horror Halloween movies made in the 90’s. And my favorite scene is when Winfred is singing at the party.”

“Absolutely,” Ray agrees.

Gee’s made him watch that movie four times already this week. Ray practically knows it by heart now.

“So, I figured I’d do that scene,” Gee finishes with a crooked little grin that makes Ray’s heart warm.

The picture is just a silhouette of the three witches, with Winfred at the front with the microphone and her sisters on either side. The words “I put a spell on you” are written out in shaky lettering at the bottom.

It’s a simple design, by Gee’s standards, but still good.

“I love it; good idea. Maybe I can do a similar theme? Another scene from that movie?”

Geard’s face lights up. He’s given him an idea.

“Or, you could do a silhouette of Binx!”

Ray laughs but he has to admit, that’s a good idea. And probably the extent of his pumpkin carving capabilities.

“What about you, Mikes? What’d you come up with?”

Mikey doesn’t look up but he does lift his arm so Ray can see what he’s working on. It’s the iconic Jack Skellington face, drawn in a wobbly shaped pumpkin.

“Nice,” Ray says genuinely.

He knows pumpkin carving is supposed to be for kids but he also knows that it’s fun so he doesn’t really care about anything else. Gee, likely reading Ray’s mind, gets up and makes him a cup of coffee too, just the way he likes, and even shares his pencil so Ray can start working on his design.

It’s almost an hour later before they begin carving their pumpkins. The process is messy and Ray is not looking forward to having to clean up in the morning. But he gets lost in carving his pumpkin, occasionally looking up to watch the movie someone put on the TV. It’s late when he finally finishes.

He sits there, watching the movie and making coffee and snack runs for the others, until Gerard is the last one to finish. Ray feels like a kid again as he puts the small tealight in his pumpkin alongside the others. They go outside together and place their work on the steps of the porch.

It’s moments like this where Ray realizes just how lucky he is to have friends like these. Who are more than willing to spend their Friday nights carving pumpkins and watching Halloweentown. And it’s his first Halloween with Gee as more than just a friend but he can already tell that there’s going to be many more holidays like this one in their future.

Chapter Text

3. Pov hunters going after some kind of monster (fob)

Sometimes, Patrick really fucking hates his job.

Especially when it requires him to be roaming the streets at ass-o’clock in the morning looking for some rogue vampire.

It’s damp and cold out, and his jacket only does so much to keep him warm. His shoes make a squishing sound every time he takes a step. And if it weren’t for the determined look in Pete’s eyes right now, Patrick would have already been begging to go home.

Andy and Joe are two streets over, on the lookout as well. But, if there is a vampire lurking in this part of town, Pete will be the one to find them. Seeing as he is a vampire himself. But he’s not one of the ones that kill randomly, or for fun. In fact, he’d been so hung up on being turned that Patrick had somehow managed to create a blood-substitute just to keep him from doing something stupid.

There are other nice vampires, nice meaning they don’t drain random people for fun. Pete hangs out with them sometimes and he always comes home looking a little lighter.

Patrick knows this weighs on him. And it doesn’t help that their job is literally killing Pete’s kind. Well- killing the murderers. It used to bother Pete before too and Patrick can remember many nights where Pete whispered his fears of being just another murderer.

But that was years ago. And now, while Pete in no way enjoys killing rogue vampires, he’s come to terms with the fact that he’s really doing the world a favor.

It also helps that Pete is freaky good at his job. He’s able to track down any supernatural being from miles away. Patrick is honestly just here for moral support. And to keep Pete from getting himself killed. Because the guy may be technically immortal, but he still can get killed if he throws himself into danger like he tends to do.

Patrick loves him. He really does. But he swears that he’s gonna have grey hairs before he’s 30 because of Pete.

“He’s close,” Pete whispers, just loud enough for Patrick to hear over the quiet murmuring of the sleeping city.

He sighs in relief. It’s been a long, cold night and all Patrick is looking forward to is going back home and going to bed.

“I’ll tell Joe,” Patrick says instead, pulling out his phone and shooting the quick text signaling they found the vamp.

It’ll be less than a minute before the other two members of their team are here. Patrick is proud to call his team one of, if not the best, hunters in the city. They have only lost once, when Pete was turned, but even then, they went back and got their revenge. They are usually called when no-one else wants the job. Or, more likely, when no-one else can do the job.

The vamp they’re hunting tonight has nearly killed two rival hunters and has brutally killed countless humans. It’s Patrick’s pleasure to take on this hunt.

As they wait for the others, he glances over to Pete. The soft orange tinted glow from the streetlamps shines in Pete’s damp hair. His eyes move continuously, scanning again and again to make sure they’re safe. His hand is on his belt, where a hand made stake gun is holstered. Patrick knows from experience that Pete can pull the weapon and fire a killing shot before he can even blink.

It sends shivers down his spine, but not necessarily in a bad way. He had thought Pete turning was the end. That he would turn into a heartless killer. And he almost had.

Patrick has a long scar on his leg from Pete’s claws shortly after he was turned. But once they’d given Pete something to eat, graciously donated by Andy, he’d calmed down considerably. After that, Patrick created the substitute and Pete’s done nothing but get stronger.

As has their relationship. But that’s not something Patrick should be thinking about while on the job.

Andy and Joe jog over a moment later, looking equally as chilled and ready to go home.

“Pete?” Andy asks.

“He’s in that building.” Pete points in the direction of an apartment building. “Third floor. Fifth door on the left. He’s alone.”

Patrick doesn’t comment on how insane it is that Pete’s able to know that. He just trusts in Pete’s sense and motions for the others to follow him.

This is the tricky part. Because this inhuman senses thing goes both ways. If Pete can smell the other vamp, then there’s a good chance it can smell the four of them too. Pete’s stronger than most but not by a lot.

Luckily, they’ve been working with vampire Pete for almost a decade now. They’re used to the drill.

As they walk, Pete literally douses himself in perfume. It doesn't erase his scent exactly, but it does make it harder to distinct him from a human. Downside to that is that Pete can’t smell as well through it either.

By the time they get to the back entrance of the building, Pete is rubbing his nose and scrunching his eyes from the smell. He says it gives him a headache but it’s the best solution they’ve been able to come up with so far. So he has to deal with it. Patrick feels bad about it. A little. Not enough, though, to stop and face the danger of them being sniffed out mid-hunt.

Pete breaks the lock on the door easily and they all file into the tiny corridor. It looks like these are the bottom floor apartments, with tiny, dim lights lining the walls. They make as little noise as possible as they find the stairwell.

By the time they get to the third floor, Patrick has a hard grip on his own stake gun. He has a bad feeling about all of this.

They’ve been trying to pin down this particular vampire for years now. Patrick suspects he has a part in Pete’s turning too, but has no proof. This all feels too easy. After everything this fucker has put them through, dead end trails and fellow hunters coming back in bloodied messes, the four of them just walking in seems suspiciously easy.

Pete stops a few doors down from where the vamp is staying. He’s tense, something’s wrong.

“What is it?” Patrick chances, keeping his voice as low as possible.

“He’s expecting us.”

It sends shivers down Patrick’s spine. But he had already known that, hadn’t he?

“What should we do?”

It’s Joe who asks, eyes a little wide and a deathgrip on his knife.

“He thinks he can beat us,” Pete says, dangerously slow.

Patrick doesn’t have an answer for that. Sure, they’re the best hunters in town and Pete’s freakishly strong even for a vampire, but who says they’re a match for this guy? He’s supposedly hundreds of years old. He’s killed countless people in that time. What are four 20 somethings going to do?

Patrick is a pessimist, if you couldn’t tell.

“Can he?” Joe asks, looking at each of them.

“No.”

Patrick opens his mouth to tell Pete that he can’t know that for certain. But before the word has even come out of his mouth, he blinks and Pete is gone. The door to the vamp’s apartment is open and Patrick curses loudly.

He rounds the corner into the apartment just in time to see Pete pin the other vamp against a wall. The older vampire hisses and lashes out, clawing a deep line across Pete’s chest. But Pete doesn’t release his grip on the vamp’s throat.

They don’t need to breathe, so he’s not choking him, but rather just keeping him against the wall. With one hand, Patrick might add.

Pete’s other hand goes to his belt and pulls the stake gun effortlessly. He puts the barrel against the other vamp’s heart. The other vampire goes still, realizing that he’s lost.

“Nice job, young one. But killing me won’t stop others from doing the same as I have. Humans are-”

He doesn’t get to finish his words. Pete pulls the trigger and a stake is going through his heart in a millisecond. Blood shoots against the wall and all over Pete.

Patrick just stands there in the doorway, in shock. He hears Joe curse behind him and Andy sigh. But Patrick is more focused on how Pete hangs his head and takes a shuddering breath before releasing the dead vampire’s throat and stepping back.

The stake keeps it upright on the wall and Patrick has to look away before he can notice any further details. Even after all this time, he’s not great with gore.

But what’s important right now is Pete. His boyfriend. Who just, rather brutally he might add, killed one of his own kind.

“Pete?” he calls softly.

Pete takes a second, but he does turn to face Patrick. He’s covered in blood and his eyes are hollow, distant. Patrick’s heart aches for him and he steps further into the room. Pete meets him halfway, wrapping his arms around him in a vice grip and burying his face in Patrick’s neck.

He saves the complaints he has about blood on his jacket for another time. He can feel Pete shaking against him.

“Come on,” he says to Pete, gently. “Let’s go home.”

Chapter Text

10. Werewolf/ vampire- enemies to lovers

The first time Gerard runs into the wolf it’s an accident. He’s walking home around midnight, his hood pulled over his head and his hands stuffed into his pockets. He has his headphones in, mouthing along to the words silently. If Gerard were human, he likely would have never known it was there. But he’s not.

He spots a short, young wolf just a few yards away. He’s leaning against the bricks, smoking.

Gerard wrinkles his nose, not at the scent of smoke, but at the underlying stench of wet dog. He doesn’t stick around long enough for the wolf to spot him too. He’s not in the mood for a fight tonight.

__________________________________________________

The second time Gerard runs into him, it’s quite literally the most inopportune time possible. It’s around five in the evening and Gerard, stupidly, had assumed the sun would stay behind the heavy winter clouds long enough for him to go to the store. He was wrong.

The sun comes out just to spite him, searing a painful, throbbing burn into his skin. Only his face, neck, and hands were exposed, thank fuck, but the pain isn’t something he’s able to simply push aside and continue on.

He’s leaning against the wall in the alley he ran to take cover in, breathing heavily and trying to take stock of his injuries. The sun makes him grouchy, even at the best of times, and coupled with the throbbing pain of his new burns, Gerard is furious.

With himself. With the stupid fucking sun. With his brother for pestering him about their soda supply running low, until he gave in and ventured out.

He’s gonna kill Mikey when he gets home. This is his fault.

So, of course, right at that moment is the perfect time for the stench of wet dog to slam into him.

He snarls, his fangs sliding out on instinct. He may be hurt and weakened by the sun, but you can fucking bet that he can tear this werewolf apart easily.

The wolf walks out from behind two dumpsters, hands in his pockets. Gerard snarls but the stupid thing keeps walking closer.

“Get back.”

The wolf sniffs the air, his huge eyes raking over Gerard. He’s looking right through him and it makes his blood boil.

“I said get back!”

This time, the wolf takes a step back. But only one.

“I thought vamps were supposed to be smart enough not to walk around in broad daylight,” the little shit snarks at him.

Gerard growls lowly, stepping forward.

The wolf lifts his hands in surrender. “Fine. Fine. I was gonna offer to help you get home. But if you wanna be like that, stay here with the trash until the sun goes down.”

Before Gerard can do or say anything, the wolf turns in the opposite direction and jogs away. He tries to follow but the asshole cuts across the busy, bright, street and Gerard has to stop.

He’s panting, from both how furious he is and how badly his burns are throbbing. Never mind about killing Mikey, he’s gonna kill this fucking wolf.

_________________________________-

The third time Gerard runs into the wolf, he’s already prepared to kill him.

It’s no secret that vampires and werewolves don’t get along. It’s in their DNA or some shit. They’re polar opposites.

So when he comes across a sleeping wolf in the middle of the woods, Gerard’s fangs are out before he’s even thought about it. He can tell that this is the same wolf as before. It’s small, young, but not a child. His fur is a soft brown color and he’s snoring.

It’s a strange sight, Gerard admits to himself as he steps closer. Probably a trap. No wolf would just sleep out in the open. Not on a new moon, when it’s at its most vulnerable.

He’s still ready to kill the thing but… something holds him back. He isn’t sure what.

But as Gerard stands there, eyes sweeping over the wolf again and again, the more he realizes he can’t kill him.

For one, it’s against the law for him to harm a wolf who hasn’t attacked him or a human. And two, it’s against who he is to kill a defenseless, sleeping creature.

That doesn’t mean though, that everything in him isn’t screaming at him to just tear the creature's throat out and be done with it. Wolves are dangerous. Especially around the full moon.

Wolves kill more humans than vampires do.

But he already knows in his gut that he can’t do it. Mikey’s gonna laugh at him, just like he did last month while Gerard sulked and bitched about the stupid wolf. But he’s already made up his mind.

Gerard turns around, cursing under his breath and willing his fangs to slide back. He doesn’t notice the wolf opening his eyes.

____________________________________

After that, it becomes almost common for him to run into the wolf.

They don’t speak to each other but they do just sorta… exist around each other. Mikey makes fun of him for it endlessly.

And then, one day, Gerard literally bumps into the wolf. He’s walking home in the middle of the night, not really paying attention to where he’s going, when he slams into someone.

“Fuck- shit-”

The wolf hits the pavement hard and takes a moment to get back up. Gerard, without thinking, extends his hand to help him up. The wolf looks at him, curious, then accepts the offer.

“Sorry,” Gerard says awkwardly.

“ ‘s okay.”

“Um… you okay?”

The wolf looks down for a moment. “Yeah. With it being so close to the full moon my senses are kinda… stuck on full blast.”

Gerard winces in sympathy. He’s been there. Not the full moon part, but if he waits too long between eating his senses go into hyperfocus and everything hurts.

“Well, if you want, there’s a quiet coffee place down the street. It’s open 24 hours. Should be pretty dead right now.”

The vampire smiles.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Gerard,” he answers, his voice coming out a little breathless.

The wolf’s face lights up a bit and Gerard has to convince himself that it doesn’t make his stomach do funny things.

“I’m Frank.”

___________________________________________

“Ha, I fucking knew it.”

Mikey is grinning, actually grinning. Gerard’s face feels like it’s on fire.

“Oh the wolf is so annoying,” Mikey mocks him, still smiling. “I hate his stupid pretty face.”

Frank’s hiding his stupid, pretty face in Gerard’s neck, laughing too.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Yes you do. God I fucking knew you liked him.”

“Whatever,” Gerard mumbles, trying not to crack a smile. “We’re going to watch a movie in my room.”

He drags a still laughing Frank by the arm towards his bedroom.

“Use protection!” Mikey calls from the living room.

Gerard flips him off as he closes the door behind them.

Chapter Text

5. Haunting (making friends with a demon/ghost that’s in your house) (fob)

Pete is known to be impulsive. Especially when it comes to buying shit that he really doesn’t need. But you can’t exactly blame him this time.

He had been driving around aimlessly, listening to music and zoning the fuck out (one of his favorite pastimes). When he spotted it. On the side of the road in some cute old lady’s yard sale.

He pulled over immediately, encaptured by all the useless junk strewn out along plastic tables and on the ground.

He ends up spending way too long browsing, touching every kick knack and article of clothing. There’s a few things that catch his eye, a zebra candle holder and ancient looking TV, to name a few. However, when Pete picks up a dusty, brown book, he knows instantly that it’s going to come home with him.

He runs his fingers gently over the cover, feeling the raised lines of the title. “A Guide to the Most Unpractical”

“Huh,” he says aloud to himself.

The older lady, previously wandering around mingling with the few other people browsing, comes over to Pete.

“How much for this?” Pete asks, unable to tear his eyes off the strange book.

It has a… feeling attached to it. Pete doesn’t really know how to describe it. But it feels like more than just a random book. It feels, unique.

“Are you sure you want this one?” the old woman asks, something strange coloring her tone.

Pete just shrugs. It’s a cool book and he’s impulsive. He can’t really think of a good reason why not. At the very least, if it does prove to be useless, it’ll look cool tucked into one of his already overcrowded bookshelves.

“Definitely. How much?”

The old lady sighs and shakes her head. Again, Pete pays no mind.

“Five bucks and it’s yours. But-”

Pete shoves the bill in her direction before she can finish.

“Thanks!” He calls, already turning back to his car.

When he returns home, Pete does exactly as he planned. He plops down on his couch and cracks open the new book.

He scans the pages quickly, not really reading them. He’s just trying to get the main premise of the book, since it was clearly published before summaries on the back were a thing.

The book is full of a lot of strange things, Pete finds. Everything from describing how the weather works, to fantastical creatures. Pete can’t tell if this is fiction or not. And perhaps that’s the most strange part. This isn’t written like you would expect someone to describe a fictional world. Instead, each page carefully lists out, in encyclopedic detail, everything there is to know about the subject.

Pete loses track of time, when he at last looks up from his reading, having gotten encaptured by a long chapter regarding ghosts of all things, it’s well after midnight. He sighs and arches his back, resulting in a few loud cracks along his spine. It’s not until he sets the book on the coffee table and looks around that he notices something’s off.

Something… or no, someone is sitting in the chair across the room. He freezes, blood turning to ice as the hairs on his arms stand on end.

Ghosts aren’t real. He’s just… fallen asleep while reading, that’s all.

It doesn’t help his theory that he can never fall asleep that easily, certainly not without his meds by any means. So then… that must mean that this is real.

“Hello?” Pete calls, voice trembling.

The ghost looks over, seemingly surprised.

“You can see me?”

Pete blinks and realizes his mouth is still hanging open. He closes it audibly and forces himself to answer.

“Yes?”

“Oh sick,” the ghost all but cheers, standing from the seat and walking closer. “The only other person who could was Martha.”

“Martha?”

The ghost smiles. “An older lady who found my book. She was the first to see me after, well, after I died. Didn’t think anyone would be able to, until she came along. But I think eventually her superstitions got the best of her and she stopped opening my book.”

Pieces click in Pete’s mind. He reaches over and lifts the book again. The ghost seems to shiver but then grows brighter.

“Are you… attached to this?”

“Yeah. I wrote it, when I was alive. For some reason, it’s keeping me here.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t mind,” the ghost continues, smiling softly. “Usually, I just hang around and watch. Time is strange when you’re not being subjected to it.”

Pete nods.

“What’s your name?”

The ghost smiles again, curly hair bouncing as he moves closer. He doesn't walk, exactly, it’s more of a glide than anything. Pete remembers the paragraph he read about how ghosts can exist away from their tether, but that they are strongest when close to it. And he can see that that is the truth. The ghost glows brighter the closer he gets to Pete.

“I’m Joe. It’s crazy to see the book again.”

Pete smiles too. “I’m Pete. And, what do you mean, again?”

“Oh. Martha didn’t want me being… too corporal I guess. She kept the book hidden from me. She didn’t trust me. Which is fair. Some ghosts do abuse the strength being near their tether gives them.”

“Like poltergeists?”

Joe smiles brightly. “Exactly.”

Pete glances down at the book. It’s probably a bad idea, but he’s already moving before he can talk himself out of it.

“Here,” He says, extending the book towards Joe.

The ghost’s eyes go wide. But he carefully takes it.

“You can touch it,” Pete remarks, a little surprised.

It takes a moment for Joe to answer. He seems in awe of the book. And it’s clear that he’s way more life-like now that he’s holding it. If it weren’t for the faint off-white, wispy glow around him, Pete would be able to mistake him for a living person.

“Yeah,” Joe answers quietly, never taking his eyes off the book. “It’s the only thing I can, unless I concentrate really hard. But I haven't touched it in…” “Well, it is yours. You’re free to keep it.”

Joe looks up quickly, surprise written all over his face.

“Really?”

“Definitely. Just… maybe you can stick around? I have so many questions now that I know the book isn’t fiction.”

Joe smiles and brings the book up to his chest.

“Absolutely. What would you like to know?”

Chapter Text

11. Priest exorcising a demon. Gee and Frank. Homoerotic

Frank’s a good guy. He goes to church and he always tries to be a decent human being. Sure, he smokes and is covered in tattoos, but that doesn’t make him any less of a person.

So that’s why, when he wakes up, for the fifth morning in a row, to find himself somewhere he’s never been before and with strange stains on his clothes, he decides to put a stop to it. He’s done his research, the headaches, the weird blacking out when he hasn’t drunk anything, the suspicious stains that look a little too close to blood. Either he’s having a psychotic break and going out and murdering people in his sleep, or he’s possessed. He’s leaning towards the second one.

So, on that fifth morning, he throws on an old jacket over his ratty t-shirt and walks to the nearest church he can find. His mom is a devout Catholic, so it’s probably fitting that he stumbles upon a Catholic church first.

The building stands out against the grey scale buildings that surround it, with tall and dramatic designs inside and out. He lets out a deep breath as he steps inside, walking into a church, as always, seems to clear his head a bit.

He wanders slowly up to the front of the room, where the altar is, and finds someone sitting in the front pew. The person, a guy about his age with long, dark hair framing his face, looks up. He smiles and Frank feels himself smile back.

_____________________________

“And you’re sure that there’s no other explanation for these things?” Gerard asks.

See, it’s not often that people walk in claiming to be possessed these days. The occasional old lady or parent insisting their rebelling child is in fact possessed by a demon. Most of the time, they’re wrong. Gerard has seen real possession. He’s exorcised probably a dozen demons in his brief decade of being a priest. And while Frank is correct to be a bit suspicious, Gerard doesn’t want to jump to demon possession right away.

That’s why he asked Frank to join him in his office, that way if someone walks in they won’t overhear this conversation.

Demon possession is serious. Life threatening, really. About half of the people he’s performed exorcisms on have died in the process.

“I’m sure,” Frank asserts, standing in the middle of the room with his hands in his jacket pocket.

Gerard sighs. Well, the worst he can do is try. If there isn’t a demon in Frank, then at least nothing can go wrong. But if there is, well… Gerard knows it’s not up to him whether or not Frank survives the process.

Though, a tiny, nearly stamped out, part of him hopes that Frank lives. He can admit to himself that Frank is beautiful. With his stupid smirk that’s attempting to hide his nerves, to the lip ring he toys with when thinking. Not to mention all the tattoos Gerard can just see poking out of his sleeves and collar.

Gerard shakes his head, getting rid of that train of thought.

It’s a fairly simple process, exorcising a demon. Mostly muscle memory at this point.

Gerard starts abruptly, to ensure the demon doesn’t have the chance to fight back. And, at first, it seems like his prediction of this being a misdiagnosis is correct. But then Frank begins shaking.

Gerard watches as he goes rigid, straightening up and arching his back inhumanly. Not a misdiagnosis then.

As he continues, Frank falls to his knees and a horrible growling noise filters through the sound of Gerard’s words. Gerard has to look away, this is the part that never gets any easier. He tries to shove the mental image of Frank on his knees for other reasons out of his mind.

A few more lines and he’s done. The silence that follows feels neverending. He glances over at the human shaped heap on the floor. He’s praying that Frank survived. He seemed like a good person.

“Fuuuck.”

Gerard laughs, not even upset about the cursing at this point, as Frank sits up. He looks like he got the life beat out of him, but he’s wearing this cocky smile that stirs something in Gerard.

“All done?”

“Yes,” Gerard answers coolly. “You’re free from the demon that was possessing you.”

“Sweet.”

Gerard walks closer, extending a hand to help Frank up. He looks up at Gerard, eyes wide. He must have bitten his lip, because when he smiles there’s blood on his teeth. It shouldn’t send a thrill through Gerard at the sight, but it does.

Frank grips his hand and allows Gerard to pull him up. He tilts forward a bit and Gerard puts his hands on his arms to steady him. The action was purely innocent, he swears, but now they’re standing less than an inch apart. Gerard can feel every breath Frank takes.

Frank, the asshole, licks his lips, knowing Gerard had been staring at them. Gerard opens his mouth to tell Frank it’s time for him to go, or to ask him how he feels. But Frank surges forward, colliding their mouths together and shoving Gerard against the wall too-fast for him to fight it. But he doesn’t want to fight it.

“How can I ever repay you, Father?”

Chapter Text

8. masks (scaring friends)

Frank knew from the second he saw the mask sitting on a store shelf, he needed it. He immediately had thrown it into his cart, already thinking of all the ways he can use it to scare the shit out of Gerard. And scaring Gerard half to death is like, one of his favorite pastimes.

For someone so observant, Gerard can be completely oblivious.

The mask itself isn’t even that scary, just the Scream face and a black backing. But when he jumps out and scares Gerard, it’ll be more than enough to have him pissing himself in fear. Not literally, because gross. But you know, figuratively.

Frank gets home in record time, giving him enough time to hide beside the doorway in the kitchen. He keeps all the lights off and locks the door back so Gerard doesn't think he’s home.

He can barely contain his giggles as he hears keys jingling in the door. Quiet, shuffling footsteps make their way towards the kitchen, just like Frank had expected.

He sees Gerard pat along the wall for the light switch and, the moment they turn on, Frank jumps out in front of him.

Gerard screams and falls back against the door frame, eyes wide and panicked as he slides down the wall.

Frank’s laughing not a second later, pulling the mask off and throwing it aside now that it’s served its purpose. Gerard is still panting against the wall as Frank tries to stop laughing long enough to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes, the giggling starting again.

“You asshole.”

Gerard sounds pissed but he’s laughing now too. Just to be a good sport, Frank extends his hand to pull him back on his feet. Gerard accepts his help but wastes no time socking Frank in the shoulder.

Ow!”

“You deserve it, asshole.”

Chapter Text

19. Werewolves (Fob)

The days leading up to the full moon were always the most… interesting.

Pete’s had a decade now of living with a half-wolf. And a lot of things become routine.

Things like buying new dog toys for the “Wolf Room” in their basement, going to the deli and asking for fifteen pounds of steak that Pete knows will never be cooked. It was definitely weird at first but now, it’s just life as usual.

What’s also usual this time of month, is Patrick being even more clingy than Pete is. While Pete’s a self proclaimed attention hog most of the time, when the full moon is near Patrick has him beat.

But Pete doesn’t mind, not in the slightest.

Tomorrow is the full moon and just this evening they finished all the preparations needed for the next few nights. So, now they can use this last day to relax. Patrick is sleeping soundly on the couch beside him, the movie they picked out playing in the background. Pete’s more focused on combing his fingers through Patrick’s hair, listening to the quiet sound of his breathing.

He always gets tired before the full moon, something about preparing to shift for almost a full week. Pete doesn’t get it but he knows that it’d take the end of the word to wake Patrick right now. He is always a heavy sleeper, no matter what day of the month.

_________________________

Pete wakes Patrick around dusk the next day. The sound that comes out of Patrick’s mouth could almost be mistaken for a growl. But Pete purposefully waited as long as possible before he woke him.

When Patrick’s eyes open, they find Pete with the sort of clarity that’s not really possible without his glasses. Usually. But being part wolf has its advantages. Patrick’s vision gets stronger the closer to the full moon.

His eyes turn yellow when he turns, like an animal’s reflecting in a flashlight. And there’s a hint of that color in them now.

“C’mon babe,” Pete says gently. “Almost time.”

Patrick yawns and sits up, stretching before climbing out of bed. He smiles and takes Pete’s outstretched hand.

“Everything is ready,” Pete says quietly, smiling when Patrick yawns yet again.

His hair is sticking up in every direction and his movements are very wolf-like. It isn’t much time now.

They make it to the basement with minutes to spare. Pete wishes he could stay down here with him, just for some company. But Patrick is very very adamant about him staying away from him when he’s fully turned. And while Patirck can be rather terrifying in that form. He’s still Pete’s husband.

Pete pulls him in for one more kiss before they close the door, wrapping his arms around Patrick and wishing he didn’t have to let go.

He’s still clinging when Patick lets the kiss slow and taper off.

“Pete, honey.”

Pete squeezes Patrick one more time, as hard as he can. He manages to let go and take a step back.

“Be careful. Please.”

Patrick smiles, his teeth already sharpening.

“Of course. I’ll yell if I need anything, okay?”

Pete nods, not trusting himself to speak. Patrick closes the door slowly, smiling at him the whole time. Within moments there is a loud howl and a sickening crunch as Patirck turns. Pete winces in sympathy and trudges upstairs again.

Chapter Text

25. Familiars (Fob)

Pete’s been at this a long time. It was his mother’s profession and his grandmothers. Times might have changed and here he is typing his notes into his computer instead of a book, but it’s still relatively the same.

He learned from his mom, watching her every day after school. Her magic is different from his own. She’s better with animals than Pete is. He wishes he could have her help to do this.

See, he’s an adult now. He moved a good three thousand miles away from home to prove that point to his father. But he’s practiced enough in his craft to be able to do almost anything on his own, within reason. Hell, he runs his own business, helping out anyone around town who needs it. Most people believe he just sells fancy essential oils and weird things to follow trends. But they can never deny how Pete’s “essential oils” work way better than anything you could ever buy at the store.

Potions are Pete’s specialty, something that’s always just… come naturally to him. He loves being able to help people while also doing what he loves. It’s much more of a bright future than anything thirteen year old Pete had ever thought of then his teachers asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up.

There’s really only one small thing he’s missing, if he’s honest. All good witches get familiars. It’s a sort of right of passage. But Pete’s not great with animals.

He loves them, has a few fish and a dog waiting for him at home. But he just doesn’t click with them in the way his mom always talks about. She tells him that finding a familiar is something he has to do on his own. She can’t help him. But Pete doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to find one.

Should he wander around the woods until he finds one? Or like, go visit the local shelter?

He doesn’t know.

His mom said that she found hers, a grey squirrel that’s older than Pete, showed up in her windowsill one day. It makes Pete wonder if he should even be looking. Maybe they’re supposed to find him.

He isn’t sure. And having waited this long, Pete wonders if there even is a familiar out there for him.

He sighs as he flips off the lights, turning the open sign to closed. It’s been a good day for his store. With fall just around the corner, people always tend to be a bit more likely to wander into his shop than in the summer. Of course, he has year-round customers too. Usually they are witches as well.

Pete pulls his keys out of his pocket and steps outside into the night. He locks the door and begins his short walk home. Music is already playing on his headphones as he walks and Pete only glances at the familiar buildings he passes. He’s got a lot on his mind.

He knows that not finding a familiar isn’t a bad thing. It happens sometimes. His mom always says that you find them when you need them most. And so maybe he just doesn’t need them that badly yet.

Pete isn’t sure. He feels like he does need them. Just so he can be certain he’s doing this right. He doesn’t have that many friends here yet and the few other witches that come into his store are much older than him.

Maybe he just hasn’t given it enough time. He’s only been out here for a few months.

Pete is so lost in thought that he doesn't notice something flying behind him. It follows him a few blocks and then, when he can see the entrance to his building, he finally catches a glimpse of something in his peripheral vision.

He stops and turns slowly to try and catch a good look at whatever it is. But the sky is dark and clear, street lamps providing a soft orange glow. He stares for a moment, not really sure what caught his eye. He’s not afraid though.

It felt, friendly, the brief little glimpse that he got.

“Hello?” he asks, eyes glancing around trying to spot the thing again.

One minute turns into five and still, no answer. Pete shrugs. Maybe it was something, or maybe it was just his imagination. Whatever it was, it’s gone now. So, he shrugs and walks the final distance to his building.

Once inside his apartment, Pete begins shedding the layers he’d bundled himself in and preparing some hot chocolate. He may be 20 but there’s nothing wrong with ahit nice hot chocolate smothered in whipped cream.

When he’s done, and sipping happily, he sits down on his couch and pulls his laptop into his lap. He begins writing an email to his mom, one he’d started earlier in the week and was supposed to finish three days ago.

He doesn’t understand why she doesn’t prefer texting. It’d be much easier. And faster. But he really doesn’t mind. It feels a bit like passing handwritten letters back and forth to her. Maybe it means a bit more. He isn’t sure.

A flash of movement makes him look up from his email. And there, standing on his coffee table, is a bat. It’s looking at him, far more intelligence in it’s eyes than there should be.

“Oh shit.”

The bat blinks at him, seemingly amused. Pete doesn’t take his eyes off of it as he sets his laptop aside.

“Um- hello?” he asks, because clearly this is no ordinary bat.

But he isn’t getting any weird energy from it. Shit. Could this be his-

“Are you my familiar?”

The bat doesn’t answer, not in words anyway, but Pete can feel it’s yes clear as day.

Chapter Text

24. Fairies (mcr) Actually fob bc Pete is an idiot

Mikey knows that he isn’t supposed to be out this late.

Or even, out of the castle at all. At the very least, not without Ray to protect him. But Mikey can’t sleep. There’s something humming just under his skin, something telling him to move. To walk under the moon and let it lead him.

He doesn’t know what that means, knows that his brother is going to kill him if- when he finds out. But he can’t bring himself to turn back.

The trees are barely illuminated by the moonlight, leaving Mikey to stumble his way through the underbrush. He knows where he is, thankfully, but that doesn’t mean he’s comfortable with the path.

Each step he takes leads him further from his home. He wasn’t prepared for cold temperatures and his body shakes as he loses heat. HIs clothes aren’t exactly meant for this kind of weather.

Of course, there’s always a bigger reason to everything. At least, that’s what he heard. He’s got good reason to be out this late. Out this far. But he tries not to think about it. Nor to think about the fear in his brother’s eyes when he discovers Mikey’s bed empty.

Without realizing it, tears have begun falling down his face.

He allows himself a moment, leaning against a nearby tree. The waves hit all at once, the sadness, grief. It’s been two years today. But it somehow feels like both a lifetime and a blink of an eye.

Sometimes he goes weeks without thinking of him, without seeing that flash of sadness cover Gerard’s face. But then, it’s hard to forget tonight. He had watched Gerard all day, kept an eye on him. Things had gone on as usual, with the now yearly ceremonies taking place. Mikey somehow managed to keep his pain at bay throughout the whole day. But now, alone, he can’t hold it back.

He hears a sound, footsteps crunching in the brush, and holds his breath.

_______________________________________________

Patrick wakes up in the middle of the night. At first, he isn’t sure what woke him, but then he hears the tell-tale sound of floorboards creaking outside Pete’s room. See, Pete’s his best friend and roommate. And by now, Patrick has gotten used to the sounds of him walking around at ungodly hours of the night. Usually, he just rolls over and goes back to bed on the off chance it wakes him up. But tonight, for some reason, he feels compelled to go investigate. Call it a nervous habit. Or, rather, knowing from experience.

He groans as he drags himself out of bed and steps out into the hallway. The light in Pete’s room is off but towards the end of the hall, the kitchen light is glowing softly. Maybe Pete’s just getting something to eat. Though, if he’s brewing coffee Patrick’s gonna kill him. It’s, he looks at his watch, two-thirty in the morning. He does not need the caffeine.

Patrick quietly makes his way into the kitchen, standing by the doorway and watching. Pete hasn’t seen him yet. He’s got his back turned as he messes with something on the counter. The coffee pot sits unused across the kitchen. And Patrick watches for a moment as Pete seems to mumble to himself. Maybe a spell?

Though, it’s a little late for that, even for them.

“Pete?” He asks, walking into the kitchen.

Pete jerks his head around in surprise but quickly smiles when he sees that it’s him.

“Hey, ‘trick. Did I wake you up?”

“No,” Patrick lies. “What’re you doing?”

Pete turns around, grabbing whatever he was messing with and presenting it to Patrick. Though, that doesn’t clear up all the questions swimming around in his head. If anything, it gives him more.

“Uh… Pete?”

Pete hums and continues packing things into his lunch bag.

“Why are you cutting all our oranges?”

“Huh?” Pete says, like he wasn’t really listening. “Oh. I’m gonna go into the woods and give them to the fae.”

Patrick blinks. Waiting for Pete to correct himself or laugh and give away the joke. He does neither of those things. And Patrick is left with the reality that Pete is serious about this.

Jesus. He loves Pete, he does, but also, he doesn’t not get paid enough for this shit. Or at all. He should do that. Charge Pete for all the dumbass ideas that he gets that Patrick inevitably has to clean up.

He’d be a millionaire by now, if he did. But he reminds himself that that’s not why he hangs around Pete.

“Pete?” Patrick says slowly, waiting for Pete to look up at him.

“Yes?”

“Why do you wanna… give fae oranges?”

“Oh, because I can’t sleep. And I mean, no one ever talks to them. Everyone is so afraid of them. We’re kinda similar in that aspect.” Pete smiles wanly, making something in Patrick’s chest ache familiarly. “They can’t all be that bad.”

“Like the werewolf you tried to make friends with last month that wasn’t “all bad”?”

Patrick could name other instances, but that’s the safest right now.

“Exactly,” Pete smiles, oblivious to Patrick’s sarcasm.

“Pete, honey. You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Na,” Pete says, zipping up his bag. “I know better this time. I know not to give them my real name, or eat anything they give me. Plus, I probably won’t even see anyone.”

“Pete-”

“Patrick,” this time when he says it, Pete’s eyes are a little less manic and a little more normal. “I know. I don’t plan on talking to any. I just, wanted to go on a walk and figured the best way to make sure they’re not upset with me for walking in their woods is to bring snacks.”

Patrick opens his mouth to protest, to call Pete an idiot, more directly than before. But then again, Pete has a good point. If he goes out walking in the woods, chances are pretty high that something will take notice of him. Most likely fae.

So, Pete bringing a harmless gift, fresh and genuinely out of the kindness of his stupid heart, they probably won’t mess with him. Best case scenario they just ignore him completely.

He hates to admit it. But Pete’s actually got a good plan this time.

Patrick sighs out-loud and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. Just… don’t talk to any of them. They seem nice but they like to twist their words to fuck with you. And don’t stay out too long. You need to get at least some sleep.”

Pete smiles, big and toothy.

“Yes mom.”

He waves to Patrick and hurries out the door purposefully. Patrick just watches him go, worried.

He eventually says fuck it. He’s not about to stare out the window for the next few hours, waiting for Pete to come back. Pete’s an adult. Mostly. He can take care of himself.

Or at least, he needs to learn how to take care of himself.

So Patrick purposefully goes back into his room and lays down. He may not be any good at magic or anything but he can make himself fall asleep in less than a minute. No matter what. So long as he doesn’t think about how he actually is kind of worried about Pete.

When he wakes again, the front door is opening. The sound seems much louder in the silence of the house. Patrick sits up in his bed. They have wards set up so that people can’t just barge in. So either it’s Pete finally coming home. Or something stronger than Pete’s magic. Either way. Patrick is curious enough to get out of bed and find out.

The sunlight coming through the curtains proves that it’s later, much later. Likely around seven or eight in the morning. So, Pete’s been out for a few hours.

Patrick isn’t sure if he’s worried now, or pissed.

He turns into the living room and, there in the doorway, stands Pete. Decidedly not dead or injured. However, he’s not alone. A tall, lanky person stands beside him. Both their heads lift when Patrick enters the room and he notices Pete blush.

Jesus Christ.

What has Pete gotten himself into?

“Patrick,” Pete says happily, leaning a little onto the other person like it’s a subconscious habit. “Meet Mikey.”

Patrick glances up and down at Mikey, taking him in. He looks Pete’s age. He’s scrawny but tall, with weird knees. He has fluffy light brown hair that falls sorta into his eyes. Mikey’s face is long, angular. He’s unusually pale, as if he’s never really spent very much time in the sun. And, he’s wearing Pete’s hoodie. It’s a bit too small on him, with most of the light green dress he’s wearing still visible. He’s also not wearing any shoes, Patrick notices. Honestly, he’s attractive. But Pete’s damn near drooling every time he looks over at the kid. He’s not that hot. But he is strangely captivating.

And Pete is only in his long sleeved undershirt, which is practically nothing compared to the layers upon layers he usually wears around strangers. Every alarm in Patrick’s head goes off at once.

“Hi,” Patrick says, attempting to be friendly. “I’m Patrick.”

A few pieces click in Patrick’s mind as he says this.

One, that Pete somehow found Mikey while on a walk in the woods. Which either means he was not in the woods (and Patrick is going to have to kill him because he fucking does worry, okay?) or some other weird kid was taking a three-am walk.

Or two, Mikey is a fae.

Neither of those scenarios are Good. But honestly, what did Patrick expect?

“Pete,” He says, a false smile thrown on his face. “Can I ask you something in the kitchen?”

Pete looks up, confused. Like he was barely listening. Patrick jerks his head, a bit more aggressively than he means, towards the kitchen for Pete to follow.

Pete pries himself away from Mikey and follows Patrick into the other room, a confused look on his face. Patrick has to take a deep breath before he starts, otherwise he’s gonna say something wrong.

“Pete.”

Good. Neutral. Not angry.

“Yeah?”

“Where did you find Mikey?”

Pete’s eyes shift down to the floor. He still looks confused when he glances back up.

“In the forest. You said it was okay that I go?

Damn Pete and his giant eyes. Patrick’s heart thaws a bit and he takes a breath, this one helping much more than the first.

“Yeah. It is okay. But I just… I need to know how you found Mikey.” Pete’s eyebrows knit together and quickly he seems to piece together what Patrick is implying.

“Is this your way of asking if he’s a fae?”

Patrick nods.

“He is. But like- before you even yell at me- I didn’t mean to. He was upset and I couldn’t just leave him, ‘Trick.”

“Did you tell him your name, Pete?”

“No. I didn’t. Just that I go by Pete. And he told me his nickname too. So we’re okay.”

Patrick just sighs. Pete has a point. The fae is clearly just… being nice. Either that or blinded by Pete’s Pete-ness.

He can’t really come up with any good reason to disapprove of this. Yet.

Though, maybe it’s the protective streak he has over Pete, or maybe it’s just nerves, but Patrick has a weird feeling about all of this. He refuses to see Pete hurt again.

“And you brought him home… because?”

He lets the word hang in the air. There’s something off about this whole thing and he can’t quite figure out what it is.

“Oh, because it’s cold outside and he didn’t really have anything suitable for the weather. Is it okay if he stays for a little while?”

Patrick sighs. He can hear it in Pete’s voice, the I like him a lot. Please say it’s okay.

He should have known that it’d never be this easy. After all, this is Pete he’s talking about. And while Pete is the kind of person to fall in love very very easily, he often struggles with letting the other person know.

But it’s been a long time since Patrick has seen Pete look this happy, seen him smile this genuinely. It’s a bitter contrast to the expression he wears most days, one filled with pain.

Patrick would do anything in the world to keep Pete smiling like this, to keep his eyes so full of happiness like they are right now. He knows this is fleeting. That Pete didn’t sleep last night, and there’s a reason for that, but for right now, he can give him this.

He can give Mikey a chance. But he is going to be watching every single move the kid makes. He will not be tolerating a repeat of before.

“Fine,” he admits at last, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. “I just… please be careful.” Pete absolutely beams.

“Thank you!”

“I'm serious Pete-”

He’s cut off by Pete pulling him in by the shoulders and squeezing the life out of him. Sometimes he forgets how strong he is. Patrick smiles though as he hugs him back and Pete lets go.

He’s reminded again how good it is to see him smiling so much. And who knows, maybe Mikey will be good for him? That is, if Pete can tell him how obviously in love he is with him.

Chapter Text

7. Home invasion. Hiding (fob)

Joe’s a pretty practical guy. He’s not really scared of much.

Horror movies, while they usually scare the shit out of Pete, don’t really bother him. That’s why he’s the designated Check The Backyard and Make Sure There Isn’t a Murderer- guy when Pete gets a little too paranoid. So that’s why tonight, as he’s sitting at home strumming his guitar absently, he doesn’t freak out when he hears something outside.

It’s probably just the wind, he tells himself. There’s been storms the past few nights. He’s not worried. Of course, when he hears a loud crash come from the other room, then he starts to get worried.

Joe doesn’t have any pets, not yet, so there’s no reason something should have fallen. But he’s more curious than anything else as he sets his guitar down and walks towards the other room.

The sound sounded like it came from his bedroom, so Joe walks quietly down the hallway. He stops in the doorway and flicks on the light. Immediately he can see what the crash was.

The window is broken, shattered pieces of glass covering the floor and his bed. He can’t see what caused it though. Surely it was a branch weakened by the storms. Or maybe some asshole throwing rocks into people’s windows.

Joe steps into the room, mindful of the shards of glass everywhere.

Floorboards creak to his left and Joe spins around just in time to see someone step out of the shadows. He doesn’t have time to scream before something hard hits him on the head and he’s out.

Chapter Text

13. Gee gets cursed on tour and they have o find a way to fix him before the next show

It starts out like any other day.

Gerard wakes up as the bus pulls into a gas station. He doesn’t know what state they’re in. The most he knows is that it’s probably the mid west because everything is so fucking flat.

He scrubs his eyes, wiping out the sleep and leftover eyeliner from last night’s show. He pokes his head out of the curtains lining his bunk, not surprised to see everyone else awake before him.

Gerard’s feet make a soft thump on the floor as he rolls out of bed. He sighs, not quite ready for the day yet. He needs coffee. Badly.

His head pounds as he steps into the common area, a combination of lack of caffeine and too much thrashing around on stage last night. He’s used to it.

And, thankfully, so are his bandmates.

Frank doesn’t look away from the TV, attempting to beat Ray at Guitar Hero. Gerard would bet actual money, if he had more than like five bucks on him, that Ray’s gonna kick Frank’s ass.

Ray does look up though as Gerard passes, smiling a little before going back to the game. Mikey’s sitting on the couch, fingers going a mile a minute on his phone. Gerard doesn’t know who the fuck he could possibly be texting so much, or how the other person even has time to reply. Mikey doesn’t look up, but he does tilt his head up in greeting as Gerard bee-lines to the coffee maker beside him.

“You leave any for me?” Gerard asks, voice gravelly.

He lifts the pot, finding it empty save for a tiny amount of burned coffee at the bottom.

“Yep,” Mikey says. Like the asshole he is.

“Wow. Thanks.”

Gerard slips on his flip flops, figuring he has enough time to go buy some not burned coffee from the gas station while they’re filling up.

He shouts behind him as he walks out the door, promising to be back before it’s time for them to leave. If the others respond, he doesn’t hear them.

The air is bitter and cold, hitting him like a train the second he steps onto the concrete. He wraps his arms around himself, wondering if he should go back inside and grab a jacket. But no, it’s just for a couple minutes, he’ll be fine. Besides, if he takes too long, they’re gonna make him wait until they stop again to get coffee and that's unacceptable.

Cursing his stupid thread bare t-shit he chose to wear to bed last night, Gerard hurries across the pumps and into the dingy convenience store. The overhead lights are too-bright, making Gerard’s head throb harder and souring his already grouchy mood.

He just needs to get some caffeine and get out.

He wanders around until he finds the soda fountains. Beside them sit a coffee maker that looks older than he is. But, inside is some blessedly warm and fresh smelling coffee. It’ll have to do.

He grabs the biggest paper cup he can find, and then another because he knows he’s gonna want more, and fills it up to the brim. He stashes some sugar and cream packets into his pj pant’s pockets and heads towards the register.

Gerard turns the corner of the aisle a bit too-fast, bumping into an older man. He manages not to spill the hot coffee on himself or the other guy. It pours onto the floor in a sad puddle and, before Gerard can cry about his shitty luck, the old man starts shouting at him.

Gerard listens to it for about five seconds before he snaps too.

“I didn't even spill any on you. Fuck off!”

The old man blinks at him, his expression simmering even though he doesn’t speak again. Gerard sighs and grabs some paper towels from the cashier, who looks like she’d literally rather be anywhere else. The old man follows him around the whole time Gerard walks back to the coffee maker and pours two more cups, this time holding onto them like his life depends on it. Finally, after he’s paid and scurried back to the bus, the old man grumbles and leaves him alone. As Gerard sits down, the bus cranks and they’re pulling out, back onto the road. He sighs, his headache throbbing again suddenly, stronger than before. But he breathes through it and it goes away.

He probably just needs caffeine.

Thankfully, the coffee is still warm as he pours it into one of his personal mugs. He doctors it up with what is probably an insane amount of sugar and cream, and takes a long, slow drink. It doesn’t taste great. There’s only so much you can do for gas station coffee. But it’s warm and it’s caffeinated and Gerard doesn’t mind.

He coughs once into his sleeve but when he clears his throat, the tickle goes away. He doesn’t pay it any mind.

________________________________

Six hours later Gerard startles awake. He hadn’t planned on falling asleep. He also doesn’t remember even laying down.

Confused, he sits up.

He’s laying on the couch in the common area, with Frank sitting beside him. Frank looks up from whatever he’s reading and gives Gerard a strange look.

“You good?”

Gerard goes to answer but no sound comes out. He frowns, clears his throat, and tries again.

Nothing. Not even a croak.

Frank seems to catch on and he scoots closer.

“Are you sick?”

Gerard shakes his head. He feels fine. His throat is a little sore but nothing like he’d think it’d be if he were actually sick. But his voice is completely gone. So it’s gotta be something.

Frank gives him a look, shoves a piece of paper and a pen into his hands, and rounds up the others. Gerard tries to protest but it’s not like he can say anything.

Ray prods at him, asking if him poking his throat hurts. It doesn’t. He’s also not running a fever. So the other’s theory of him being sick is out.

“Did you smoke too much?” Frank laughs, as if he has any room to talk. Gerard pouts and shakes his head again. He hasn’t smoked since yesterday and now, at the thought of it, he kinda really wants to. There’s no way in hell they’re gonna let him right now though. Fuck.

“What else could it be?” Mikey speaks up.

He doesn’t seem concerned, which honestly is a good thing. Gerard is literally fine, he doesn't need Ray and Frank babying him.

Ray shrugs. “Dunno. But we have a show in like,” He checks his watch. “Five hours. If you can’t talk, then you sure as hell can’t sing.”

The very first spike of panic hits Gerard.

Fuck he hadn’t even thought about the show. God everyone’s gonna be so pissed.

Maybe he could like, have one of the guys introduce the songs and shit and he just, mouth along? Fuck- no that sounds horrible. People would think they’re faking it.

“I’m calling Brian,” Ray announces, already pulling out his phone. Gerard stands up in a flash, holding his hands out to get Ray to stop. He mouths no and prays that Ray understands him. It must work, because he lowers his phone a little. But he still seems worried.

“Why not?”

Gerard gestures for him to wait a second and quickly scribbles onto his stupid piece of paper. He turns it around and lets Ray read.

Ray’s face morphs into confusion but he does, thankfully, finally put away his phone. Gerard would rather they exhaust every possible outcome before they call Brain. IT’s not that he’ll be mad, exactly, but Gerard really doesn’t wanna hear that disappointed tone he gets when one of them fucks up.

“Gee, why does it matter what caused it? You can’t sing.”

Gerard scowls and quickly writes down his answer.

“Fine, you might not feel sick but still. What if it’s something serious? And you try and sing and fuck up your voice forever?”

Ray doesn’t say it to be cruel, Gerard knows this, but that doesn’t mean his words don't sting. Because if this is permanent then Gerard is basically completely fucked.

“Maybe,” Frank chimes in. “Maybe we could do some research? Before we call off the show tonight.”

Mikey nods too and Ray sighs slowly.

“Fine.”

Chapter Text

27. Angels and Demon (mcr)

Angels don’t exist.

At least that’s what Frank always believed.

But then, as most things do, it all changed when he found something he shouldn’t have. A feather.

It was inconspicuous. But he is curious if nothing else. And so he spent days trying to figure out what kind of bird had a feather that big.

The answer: none.

The appropriate thing to do at that point is forget about it. Clearly he’d found something he shouldn't have. Snooping even more would only lead to trouble down the line.

But, Frank is a persistent little shit too. Just ask any of his teachers from school.

So he spends weeks going through any and everything he can find. Cryptids, myths, legends, all of it. He doesn’t find an answer though. Not a full one.

The feather isn’t enough evidence to pin it down to one thing.

That is, until he stumbles upon something he really should see.

He’s out walking, eyes aching from staring at his computer for too long. The only thing that makes Frank stop is the sound of a very loud thump behind him. He turns around, not sure what to expect.

What he sees nearly makes him bolt.

Laying there in the grass is a person. Or well- what might be a person. They look human enough, unless you count the massive white wings coming out of their back.

Frank doesn’t have time to move before something bursts out of the woods in front of him. He flinches and his hands come up automatically, but the thing isn’t interested in him.

It, whatever it is, is massive. With black skin and disgusting grey wings. It slams into the first creature laying on the ground, but, either feigning unconsciousness or waking up just in time, the creature with white wings fights back. Frank can’t seem to see what happens, movements too fast and too aggressive for him to pinpoint.

But he sees the end of the fight. The white winged creature slams the other into the ground and holds it there by its wings. It makes a pained sound, high pitched and nauseating. Frank feels his stomach turn as he watches the white winged creature pull a weapon seemingly out of thin air.

The thing looks like a knife, with a shining white handle that matches the creature's wings. They hold it next to the other creatures black wings and it howls.

“Fine!”

The word shakes the very ground beneath Frank’s feet. Sending him to his knees. The creature's voice sounds grating and painful. Frank’s ears ring in the following silence.

“Do you surrender?”

This voice isn’t any more gentle. It’s cold and harsh. Biting.

The blank winged creature groans loudly but drops its head onto the ground in surrender.

“Yes.”

Frank doesn’t see what happens next. He moves on instinct, body surging up and bolting in the other direction before he can think twice about it. His heart pounds out of his chest as he makes it home in record time. He slams his front door behind him and locks it.

Chapter Text

28. Ouja board (fob)

It appears on his table one day.

Wrapped in it’s plastic, brand new.

Andy studies it from across the room, trying to figure out how it got here. He lives alone, so it’s not like a roommate could have set it on the kitchen table and forgotten to tell him. Maybe it’s a Pete thing?

Pete does have the key to Andy’s place and is fond of messing with him.

That’s probably it, now that he thinks about it. Pete bought the thing and left it here to freak him out.

But, then again, there’s something, odd about the whole thing. Pete’s pranks are a bit more in your face than a ouija board left out for him to find. It’s suspicious.

Andy shakes his head. It’s fine. 

He does not notice, however, when he comes into the room the next morning, that the plastic is gone. As if it was used in the night.

Chapter Text

34. College party priest gerard and alter boy frank

Frank knew damn well that he looked hot in this.

But that was the whole point.

It’s his birthday and he is on a mission. It’s been too long since he last brought anyone home. That’s why he’s pulling out all the stops tonight.

He’s aware that this is probably going to send him right to hell. But he went to Catholic school so like- he already knew he was going to hell.

He shows up to the party at least half an hour late. But he strolls in with a stupid smile on his face, his plan already in action.

See, last week when he went to find a costume for this exact party, he’d somehow managed to find a “slutty alter boy” costume. Like he said, he knows he’s most certainly going to burn for this one. But he doesn’t care.

So of course, not two minutes into the party, he lays eyes on the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his entire 19 years of life.

He’s standing by the door, cup in his hand. And, appropriately, he’s wearing a priest costume. It’s one of the ones you find in the women's section, with a short dress and more cleavage showing than not. But the guy is wearing it and somehow, Frank is here for it.

He throws back the last of the shitty beer in his own cup and walks over to the priest.

“Hey.”

The guy looks up, tucking his hair behind his ears and smiling.

Oh Frank is fucked. He’s even more gorgeous up close.

“I’m Frank.”

“Gerard.”

Without missing a beat, Frank grins and bats his eyelashes. He knows he’s hot, sue him.

“Wanna go somewhere quiet?”

Gerard smiles, looks him up and down, and grabs his arm.

“Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

29. Vampires my beloved but they have magic to keep them safe from the sun (fob)

When Pete was turned, he thought that it was the end of his life. In more ways than one. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected to be a vampire for very long.

He had been certain the guys would kill him, like they do with most vampires. But they hadn’t. Sure, for those first few months Pete knows that they didn’t exactly trust him. He can’t blame them for that. But it’s been a couple years now and things have settled into some weird form of a new normal.

They still play shows. Pete still screams and makes out with Patrick in front of the crowd. Andy still kicks his ass at monopoly and Joe tells him he’s annoying daily.

As much as his life has been flipped on its head, Pete can’t bring himself to hate it. Especially when they discovered that there are ways he can go outside during the day.

Usually, being in direct sunlight is a really stupid idea. Even for him. And he’s almost died at least once because of it. (Don’t ask, it’s a long story)

But a few months ago he ran into another vampire who was outside in the middle of the day. Only, instead of wearing all long sleeves and pants along with a giant umbrella, she had nothing but a t-shirt and jeans on. Pete would have assumed she was human, if it weren’t for the fangs poking out when she smiled and apologized to him. Curious, he’d asked how she managed to walk around in the daylight like that.

She told him that there was an old vampire who lived in town. And not just old as in a few hundred years, old as in millennia. And Pete, despite Patrick’s many protests about how this this was a bad idea, couldn’t help checking it out.

And, as it turned out, the old woman had in fact created a way for vampires like Pete to walk in the sun. She handed it to him, an unassuming gold pendant with a simple green gem dangling in the middle. He asked her how much it was but she had simply told him that she’d ask for a favor from him later.

And with that, totally not cryptic answer, Pete and Patrick left the old woman’s home.

Pete was almost afraid to wear the pendant. If the old woman was lying and he stepped out into the sun with no protection, he had maybe a minute at most before he died.

“Are you sure about this?” Patrick asked, eyeing the pendant hanging around Pete’s neck.

“I mean, if I start to burn just, yank me back into the shade.” Pete doesn’t miss the way Patrick pales at that. But it makes sense. The longest Pete’s been in the sun since he was turned was about 15 seconds. And Patrick pulled him out before he died but it had been a long, painful, recovery after. He’s not too keen on repeating the experience.

But, if this works. If he can actually stand to be in the sunlight again.

Fuck-

He doesn’t even know what he’ll do.

Pete takes a breath, a deep one that he doesn’t really need, and steps out into the sun. He braces himself for the pain, for Patrick yanking him back and cursing at him.

But neither come. Pete feels the sun on his skin but it doesn’t burn. It’s just a pleasant warmth. He opens his eyes slowly, almost afraid that once he does he’ll feel the pain.

But still. The pain doesn’t come. He’s okay.

He hears Patrick laugh behind him and step up to his side.

“It worked!”

The smile on Patrick’s face is huge, probably just as big as the one Pete feels pulling at his own cheeks.

“What do you wanna do first?” Patrick asks, slipping his hand into Pete’s.

“How about… we go to the park?”

It’s a simple thing to start with. Something fun. A nice date even. Pete’s almost worried it’s too simple.

But Patrick just smiles again, that all encompassing sort of smile that makes Pete’s stomach all gooey.

“After you.”

Chapter Text

17. Ex lover cursing them to see their new love dying horribly every night. Pete brushing it off as just insomnia. Patrick contains worry. (pete)

Pete almost thinks that it’s just a normal nightmare. He has plenty of them.

But there’s just something so fucking real about this one. He isn’t sure if he’s finally lost it or what, but all he knows is that it needs to stop.

He’s exhausted, in more ways than one. It’s been weeks since he’s been able to sleep more than an hour before the nightmare comes back.

It always starts with the same thing, sweet thoughts of him and Patrick. Sometimes it’s just the image of them laying together in bed, drowsy with sleep. But it’s always as if Pete is looking down on them from above, rather than being in his own body.

And, before he ever really gets a good taste of the softer part of his dreams, something happens. It changes every time, the thing that kills Patrick.

Sometimes it’s an unseen gun, other times it’s Patrick choking on his own blood for no reason at all. His eyes are huge and begging Pete to help him. But it never works. Every night, Pete watches Patrick die horribly.

It’s getting to him, of course it is, but he’s doing his best to hide it. He doesn’t want Patrick worrying over his too-active imagination.

But, then again, sometimes Pete wakes up and Patrick’s asleep beside him, so still that he can’t really tell if he’s alive or not. Those moments are the worst. When he’s convinced his nightmares have bled into reality.

And that’s why he’s not particularly surprised that Patrick corners him this morning.

Pete’s sitting at the kitchen table, barely even looking at his food. His coffee, the one that Patrick made him, sits untouched. Pete doesn’t even remember it being set down in front of him.

“Pete,” Patrick presses, reaching across the table and touching his arm. His eyes search Pete, trying to figure out what’s wrong.

“Hm?”

Pete’s already forgotten what Patrick asked. Probably something about the dreams. He can’t quite get his mind to wake up enough to process it though.

“I asked if you’re alright?”

The concern is clear in Patrick’s voice, the same kinda concern Pete’s pretty used to by now. Doesn’t make it any easier to force himself to speak.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

Patrick's face scrunches in disbelief.

“Pete,” he says, much more firmly. “What’s wrong?”

Too tired to put up a fight, Pete shrugs and manages to mumble out the main gist of it. Every time he closes his eyes, he watches Patrick die painfully.

Patrick’s expression morphs quickly into confusion before settling on concern.

“Pete, how long has this been going on?”

“Few weeks?” he shrugs.

“C’mon,” Patrick says suddenly, standing up in a flourish of movement.

“Where’re we goin’?”

Patrick takes Pete’s hand and pulls him up.

“Andy’s. He’s bound to know of a way to fix this.”

Pete involuntarily flinches at that. He knows there’s no real way to fix it, fix him.

“Stop that,” Patrick scolds, apparently reading his mind. “I mean the dreams. They’re not natural and Andy told me he had a bad feeling revolving around you.”

“Thanks?”

Pete isn’t sure if he’s thankful or offended. But he does allow Patrick to drive him the couple miles to Andy’s house. Andy’s gotten into some more witchy things since he started dating his new boyfriend a couple of years ago. He found a knack for things he didn’t know he could do, shit like reading tarot cards and countering curses.

Huh. What if Pete’s just cursed. And not in the melodramatic “cursed to be alive” sorta way. In actuality, someone’s out to get him way.

By the time they arrive at Andy’s house, Pete’s managed to work himself into some sort of crisis. Because either Pete very much has finally lost it, or magic is apparently real and he’s been cursed. Honest to god, he doesn't know which he prefers.

But Andy doesn’t laugh at them or immediately tell Pete to lay off the pills. He just ushers them inside and sits Pete on the couch.

“We’re gonna fix this, okay?” Andy says, kneeling down at his eye level.

Pete nods but honestly, he doesn’t really hear anything that happens next.

--------

He wakes up in his own bed. Which is… strange because he doesn't remember falling asleep here. Or, falling asleep at all. But he feels well rested and decidedly much less out of his mind.

It takes him a moment longer to realize he didn’t have another nightmare last night and to remember going over Andy’s. But he doesn’t have a clue what Andy did. The drive there is a blur and everything after sitting on the couch is too blurry to even be sure if he was conscious.

But, the more that he thinks about it, maybe it’s better that he doesn’t know what Andy did. If he’s cured then it doesn’t matter. Right?

Unless it happens again?

An unconscious shiver bubbles up inside him. God- he prays that he never has a dream like that again. He’d give anything.

He shakes himself out of the thought. It’s fine. Andy saved his ass, yet again. As a form of distraction, Pete climbs out of bed and pads into the kitchen. Patrick is sitting on the bar stool, his back turned to Pete. Sunlight filters through the windows, dim and soft like it’s still early.

Pete grabs a coffee cup from the nearby cabinet and turns to Patrick to offer him a cup as well. The words die in his throat.

Patrick is-

He’s dead.

His eyes are milky white and unseeing, his skin a grey/purple. There’s a massive hole in his chest, and Pete can see the bugs already eating away at him.

He screams and drops the mug. It shatters but Pete is too busy scrambling up onto the counter. He pulls his knees up to his chest and buries his face there.

“Please don’t be real. Please don’t be real. Please. Please-”

Something flashes and Pete opens his eyes.

He’s in bed.

It was a dream.

He chokes on a sob, curling onto his side as the image of Patrick’s body ingranes itself into his mind. He feels the real Patrick sit on the bed beside him, but Pete is too afraid to open his eyes. Too afraid that is still part of the dream.

Chapter Text

Part 2 of cursed Gerard on tour

It’s been two hours of searching. His laptop has long since been plugged up to the charger and the other’s aren’t faring any better. Ahd yet, no luck.

He still has no idea why.

Gerard sighs and leans back in his chair. He hates the thought of canceling a show, even if it might be justified. They came all this way. The kids came all this way. He doesn’t wanna let anyone down.

“Hey, Gee?”

He turns around as Frank comes over.

“Can I bum a cig? I promise I’ll pay you back.”

Gerard rolls his eyes but digs out his carton and gives it to Frank. He won't make him pay it back. He never does.

Frank lights up and presses a wet, disgusting kiss on Gerard’s cheek. Gerard groans and tries to rub it off as Frank heads towards the back to crack a window.

In his head, Gerard is still grumbling about annoying tiny guitarists and their need to put their spit on him, when he feels something. It’s a strange feeling, like something being partially lifted from him.

He opens his mouth and tries to speak. The smallest squeak results but it’s something.

_________________________________

He’s still trying to decide if it’s just being nice to Frank that helps his curse, or if he needs to be nice to everyone. But when Ray’s stomach grumbles and they all realize there’s no food in the bus, Gerard pulls out his own wallet automatically.

He’s not even really thinking about the curse. He does this anyway, truth be told. And so he lets them go on a shopping spree with his card at their next stop, only asking for some Oreos in return.

When the door shuts behind them, Gerard feels it again. The strangeness of something unseen lifting off of him.

So that must be it then.

He just has to be nice. And the curse should go away.

When everyone piles back onto the bus, handing him a receipt he really doesn’t wanna look at, he motions for them to come over. Mikey’s gnawing on a piece of jerky the size of his head and Frank’s slurping on something in a plastic cup, but Ray, bless him, hands Gerard the biggest pack of Oreo's the store had.

Gerard thanks them by writing it out on his piece of paper and adding a smiley face. Then, in much bigger letters, he tells them he thinks he’s solved the curse.

“Really? Is it gone?” Ray asks, leaning forward.

Gerard makes a so-so motion and squeaks. It’s a little louder than before, and almost sounds like a word.

He writes on the paper quickly, telling them that helping them earlier had lessened the curse but that he isn’t sure why.

Mikey nods like it makes sense. Like this is something they deal with often.

“Cool. So that’s like, what? Two good deeds done?”

Gerard rolls his eyes but nods.

He begins writing again, telling them that if there’s anything they've been meaning to ask for him to do, now's the time. And it’s strange because this isn’t really anything different. Yeah he’s an asshole sometimes, but he’s always there for the guys.

“Oh uh,” Ray speaks up, laughing a little to himself. “I was gonna ask if at the show tonight I could intro Prison for once. I love you but I’ve heard enough of you moaning into a mic for a lifetime.”

Gerard snorts but nods. That’s fair enough. He can’t help it, that song brings out some shit in him. Mostly the slutty parts. But that’s not his fault.

Ray doing the intro could be fun. Will be fun. He’s sure the kids will love it.

And, just like that, the curse lifts. Gerard feels it, like taking a too-heavy blanket off his chest. He goes to say ‘hello’ and manages a quiet whisper.

Someone passes him some water and he takes a drink before trying again. This time, it works.

“Ha!” he says, voice cracking just a bit. “Fuck yeah! Who doubted me?”

Mikey rolls his eyes and walks away but Frank pounces on him in a hug.

“Missed your stupid voice,” He mumbles into Gerard’s shirt.

Gerard smiles and nods to Ray. Looks like they won’t have to cancel the show tonight and Ray can avoid being further scarred for life. It’s a win-win.

Chapter Text

15. Old timey witch gerard, transfiguration bat and black cat

When Gerard was little, before he knew what and who he was, he always dreamed of flying. Even when he was probably a bit too old to have such a vivid imagination, his mother and grandmother never discouraged him. Years later, when he turned 10 years old, his mother sat him down and explained.

She told him he came from a very long line of witches and that there were only a few left nowadays. The burnings had taken most. And others hid their magic for generations, until it slowly faded out. Their family is one of the last in the area that still actively practices.

But, she told him, that was why they waited so long to tell him. As a child, if he’d told someone about magic unknowing of the consequences, he and his family would have been burned.

Gerard remembers the fear in his mother’s eyes as she told him this. He never asked how many children simply babbled their way into their families being tried. He tries not to think about it.

But, after that day, his mother began teaching him the ways of magic. Small, inconspicuous things that he could use daily without being caught. How to keep his food warm in the cold, for example. And how to ensure his home kept a nice layer of warmth or cool surrounding it, depending on the season.

But, perhaps most importantly- it sure was Gerard’s favorite part- she taught him about transfiguration.

His family is- or was known for it, along with a few other lines that have nearly died out. In short, it means that he can truly live his childhood dream of flying.

With some practice, and a little energy, he’s able to transform into almost any animal. Though, it has to be one he’s seen in person before.

However, the easiest is a bat.

He often transforms on evenings when he’s having trouble falling asleep. There’s something about circling the trees surrounding his home that calms him. He stays away from other homes, because he’s afraid of them thinking he’s a bad omen.

But the forest is safe, his path guided but the moon most nights. He settles down onto a nearby tree branch to catch his breath. He’s still not the best at flying but he’s getting better every time he comes out.

As Gerard stares up at the moon, thinking again of his mother and grandmother and wondering if they’d be proud of him now, he hears a small sound.

Curious, he floats down to the forest floor and, to his surprise, there’s a small cat curling up beneath the tree. He tilts his head, in a very un-bat like manner.

He presses out with his magic, a friendly gesture. It presses back.

If he were human he would smile but, in this form, he steps a little closer.

Hello!, he says as the cat looks up. I didn’t know there were others in this area.

The cat stretches and begins licking it’s paw.

I thought the same. What’s your name?

Gerard.

I’m Frank.

Chapter Text

22. Visiting Haunted Spooky Location (mcr)

“Gee, dude, this is a bad idea.” Gerard doesn’t turn around at Frank’s words. He simply laughs and motions for him to continue following.

“Nothing bad’s gonna happen. I just wanna see.”

Frank would be inclined to believe that, if the thing Gerard wanted to see wasn’t an abandoned house. And, because Gerard can’t ever seem to do anything in halves, this house is in the middle of nowhere and it’s midnight. He is so fucking lucky Frank loves him as much as he does, otherwise he’d be out here by himself. Because this is seriously asking to get haunted.

Though, knowing Gerard, that might be something he’d want. Fucking weirdo.

Frank wraps his jacket further around himself and holds back as Gerard climbs the steps to the old house. Each step creaks like it’s going to fall apart under his feet but Gerard doesn’t even slow down. He turns around as he reaches the top stair, a huge smile on his face that's even visible in the low light. He waves around the flashlight in his hand as he speaks.

“C’mon, Frankie! You gotta look at this!”

Frank sighs and puts away every once of self preservation he has and climbs the rickety steps. Once at the top, he looks over to where Gerard is pointing.

There’s an old animal skull sitting suspiciously clean beside the door. Frank shivers just looking at it. There’s something off about this whole place.

“That’s disgusting,” he tells Gerard. “We need to go home.”

“Na,” Gerard says, the bastard. “It’s fine. I’ll protect you Frankie.”

Frank rolls his eyes but, stupidly, allows his stupid boyfriend to open the front door and follows him inside.

The inside of the house isn’t any less run down than the outside. Most of the windows have been broken over the years, leaving shattered glass crunching under his boot with every step. There’s cobwebs literally everywhere and no matter how much they try and avoid them, Frank ends up with his face covered in them.

He hates bugs, especially spiders, and his skin crawls as he tries to get the cobwebs off of him. All he can think about is a spider crawling around on him, waiting to touch his face or worse his ears.

Frank’s still aggressively rubbing his head to clear any unwanted spiders when he hears Gerard suck in a breath. He’s curious enough to stop moving and walk over where Gerard has wandered off.

What Frank finds is… not what he was expecting. Gerard is crouched down by the wall, his hands running over the pattern there. But a step closer proves that it’s not a pattern on the wall, but symbols painted on in red paint.

Frank, who has seen way too many horror movies, refuses to have the stereotypical line of thought that the paint looks like blood. For one, blood doesn’t dry that way, doesn’t stay bright red, and two, if Gerard’s touching it with his bare hands and not dying immediately, then it’s probably nothing. Someone’s idea of a prank.

Still. There’s an uneasy feeling at the center of his chest and Frank wants to go home.

“Gee,” He says, breaking the silence. “We should leave.”

Gerard looks up, like he forgot Frank was even there, but nods and accepts Frank’s arm to stand.

“You were right. There’s nothing here.”

Frank usually loves being right but the sadness peeping around the corners of Gerard’s voice makes him feel guilty,rather than glad. He smiles gently and holds out his hand. Gerard takes it easily.

“Come on. We can find a real haunted place tomorrow night.” Gerard smiles then and rolls his eyes fondly.

“I hate you.”

“Yeah I know,” Frank says, a matching smile on his face.

They turn and walk, unhurried, out of the house. Frank is already thinking of ordering pizza and crashing on the couch. He doesn’t glance behind him, why would he? But if he had, he would see two very dark, very much dead figures standing in the doorway. They missed their chance this time, but, the next couple that comes in won’t be getting away that easily.

Chapter Text

31. Witch in a coffee shop and is accidentally seen doing magic by a small child

Frank stops in every day, ordering the same coffee and proceeding to sit at the little table by the windows. He likes to watch people walk by outside. He also enjoys nursing his coffee for as long as possible, content to sit in the early afternoon sun streaming in.

Today, he has his notebook with him. He’s busy scribbling down the last few details before he forgets, something that happens often unfortunately. He’s usually trying something new here, a touch of a different magic there, it’s all very confusing if he doesn’t write it down.

The spell he was working on today, for example, has been in the works for months. He’s been adding and taking away little things to refine it. Some coffee ground beans, dandelion roots, some iron shavings. The usual. But he has, at last, finished.

It’s a simple spell really, just a little something that he wants to give to Gerard for protection. But it’s special, and uniquely tuned to Gerard and he needs to have it down correctly so he can go home later and make it for real, rather than just a test.

Frank doesn’t look up from his scribbling as he reaches for his coffee. But it’s cold in his hand. He looks up, for the first time in a while he’s realizing. It’s been nearly an hour since he sat down. But it’s no worry.

If there’s one thing that’s good about magic, and trust him there’s lots, is that he can reheat his coffee easily. And without that gross taste microwaving it leaves.

Frank hums and dips his finger into his cup, within seconds it’s the perfect temperature again. As he brings it up to his lips, Frank catches the eyes of a small child sitting across from him. Her parents are talking and paying no mind to Frank, but her eyes are huge. She saw him.

Frank smiles and presses his finger to his lips. She nods slowly. Little kids are always catching him. But, luckily, their parents never believe them about the person doing magic out in public. And it’s easier to keep it that way.

Chapter Text

33. Thursday angst/ magicverse my beloved(mcr)

This time of year always feels bitter sweet.

Gerard loves the fall weather, the cold bite to the air and the decorations. The past few years have sorta… stolen that from him though. It didn’t feel right to celebrate, to acknowledge what month it was.

But this year he is barreling towards the 31st. His life has gotten busier, happier over the course of a year. He’s been good. And not just, good in the way he’d assure Mikey that he was fine every time he asked. Actually okay for the first time in almost three years now.

Three years on the 31st.

The date still gives an unwelcome icy shoot of pain through him. He doesn't know if he’ll ever not have that reaction. But Gerard notes that it doesn’t make him want to find a corner to hide in with a bottle. No, now it makes him long for Frank to get home a little sooner.

Frank’s the main reason, Gerard thinks. He came into his life and just… would not let go no matter what. Not that Gerard ever wanted him to leave. It’s nice, having someone who cares about him like this. Who’s there when he’s having a low day.

It’s probably some sick version of the universe’s humor that Frank’s birthday is on Halloween. But it also means Gerard can think of something else.

Something other than screeching metal and broken glass.

Gerard freezes, sucking in the too-fast breath that's been building. He holds it for a moment, lets the images, the memories, fade and breathes out.

Last year, Mikey hadn’t let him out of his sight all month and Gerard’s grateful for that. At the time, he’d needed that. But there’s also something about sitting here by himself that’s… freeing? He’s not sure how to describe it.

He’s still sad, which feels like an understatement, but it’s more manageable now. He knows Frank’s going to be home in a few hours. They’re going to try decorating a little, something Gerard hasn’t done in years.

He rubs his shoulder, trying to settle the present ache there. It never goes away, not fully, but it always feels more persistent this time of year. Reminding him.

But looking down at the coffee table in front of him, Gerard is reminded of something else. There’s a paper laying to the side, beside the coffee mugs and food wrappers. It’s his drivers license. Or-well it’s a stand in until the actual card comes in the mail.

But it’s way more than a piece of paper. He technically almost had his licences before but then after the crash he-

He couldn’t even sit in a car, let alone drive one. But it’s different now, like a lot of things are, he’s realizing.

Frank’s been the push that he needed. Not forcing him to do things that brought back flashes of that night, but being there and always giving Gerard the choice to start pushing himself. And so when Gerard had asked Frank yesterday if he could help him decorate- just a little- Frank had agreed instantly. He asked Gerard if he wanted to help pick out the decorations, but that had felt like too much. So Frank brought home a few modest bags of things they could use. The bag is sitting on the floor by the couch, ready for them to begin.

Gerard isn’t sure what’s going to happen, if he’s honest.

If he can handle driving a car then surely he can handle some fake cobwebs and pumpkins. But he’s come to realize not all things are an obvious trigger, or a direct one. They’d just been going to the store to pick up another six pack. It just so happened to be Halloween. And it just so happened that they’d been in a fight and that Bert would impulsive yank the wheel and-

Fuck

Gerard sucks in a shaky breath. He’s fine. He’s fine.

But his hands are trembling as he pulls out his phone and opens his and Frank’s messages. He types something fast, telling Frank how much he misses him.

And it’s true. Frank’s so good at holding him and somehow letting him cry it out without working himself into a spiral. He isn’t sure how he does it. But Gerard always feels so much safer when Frank’s here.

He’s impulsive when he’s sad, when he’s fighting off flashbacks left and right. But he just needs to think of Frank. Think of the movie they watched last night, some horrible b movie about a killer crocodile. The way Frank’s face scrunches up as he laughs. How gentle his hands feel on Gerard. That love filled, soft smile he gives Gerard so often.

Gerard may not be okay, not yet, but he thinks Frank is going to help him get there.

His phone dings, Frank’s reply coming up on the screen.

I miss you too! Work is boring as hell. You okay?

Gerard smiles a little, even though it feels stretched and strange.

My head’s full. Miss you.

Frank’s bubble pops up and stays there for a while, meaning he’s writing a lot. Gerard almost apologizes for bothering him while he’s at work, when the message comes through.

I was about to text you and let you know my boss sent me home early. So I’m gonna be home soon. 20 minutes tops. Do you want Mikey to come over until then?

Something in Gerard’s chest aches at that. That they have to worry that he’s not going to be okay in the 20 minutes it takes Frank to walk home. He knows that if Frank texted Mikey, his brother would be here in two minutes. He lives right down the street. And this is an offer Gerard’s taken them up on before, but he doesn’t think he needs to right now.

No, that’s okay. He types, before adding hurry home.

20 minutes is doable. He thinks.

To pass the time, and to get his brain to shut up long enough for Frank to get home, he wraps a blanket around his shoulders and plays on his phone. It’s mindless stuff, mainly TikTok and youtube videos until he hears Frank opening the front door.

He jumps up and meets him in the hallway, colliding into him with enough force to send them to the ground. That is, if Frank wasn’t used to these kinds of hugs.

He wraps his arms around Gerard tightly, squeezing him and pressing his lips to the top of his head. Gerard squeezes back, breathing in the scent of Frank and relishing in the weight of his arms around him. His head eases, the worst of the insistent memories beaten back.

“I missed you,” Gerard mumbles into the fabric of Frank’s shirt.

“Shh. I’m here. Everything is okay.”

And, after all the times he’s heard that phrase since the crash, Gerard actually believes it this time.

Chapter Text

32. Decorating a house together (cute and domestic) Mcr

Gerard wakes up the next morning with Frank wrapped around him, snoring softly. For a long moment, he considers just burying his face back in the warmth of Frank’s chest and falling asleep again. He’s not ready for today.

Truthfully, last night's flashback wasn’t even all that bad. He’s had much much worse.

But, having Frank nearby made things a little less dire. Kept him from doing anything stupid.

Or well, doing something stupid again. But that was before Frank and so it’s not like he can go back in time or anything. Not even if he wishes he could.

Frank wakes slowly beside him, yawning and pressing closer to Gerard, trying to savor the last few moments of sleep. Gerard smiles to himself as Frank frowns, clearly awake but not happy about it.

“Morning,” Gerard whispers, running his fingers through the hair at the base of Frank’s neck gently.

Frank hums and slowly lifts his head. He smiles at Gerard and presses a slow, unhurried kiss to his lips.

“I think I still wanna decorate,” Gerard says once they break apart.

Frank looks up immediately, more awake than he was moments ago. He’s searching Gerard’s face and if it were anyone else Gerard would be shying away. But this is Frank. He trusts him more than almost anything.

“Okay,” Frank says after a moment, still reading Gerard’s face for any trace of fear. “We can start after coffee, if you want?”

Gerard nods and, at the mention of coffee,drags himself out of bed. Frank follows, draped over his back and dragging his feet. They make coffee like any other day, half-asleep and still only speaking in one or two words at a time.

Gerard can feel the slow crawl of anxiety buzzing in him. Fear of what’s going to happen when he starts decorating. Fear of what he’s going to remember.

Once their first coffees have been finished and a second made, Frank and Gerard head into the living room. Frank motions Gerard to sit on the floor beside the bags of decorations, not yet touching them. Gerard clings to his mug like a lifeline as Frank slowly pulls the first bag open.

He sets the package of fake cobwebs on the floor and pulls out some plastic window clings. There’s a few more things, vampire teeth and garland with little bats on them. A pumpkin. And, lastly, Frank pulls out a small, black bowl with dancing skeletons on it.

He looks up to Gerard, searching him again.

“We don’t have to give out candy. I just got it as a possibility.”

Gerard nods, not trusting himself to speak.

He likes the idea. It’s been ages since he gave out candy. And he’s trying to warm himself up to the idea of celebrating the holiday without thinking about Bert. Because he used to absolutely love Halloween.

He used to decorate in August and deck the whole house out with homemade and store bought decorations alike. He and Mikey used to make it a thing. Gerard always had a blast making his costumes too. He always went all out.

He’d been in costume when they hit that tree. The hospital cut him out of it but it was too-late for Bert.

“Hey,” Frank says, pulling Gerard back from his thoughts. “You okay?”

He slowly reaches his hand over and sets it on Gerard’s leg, knowing better than to go for his arms in moments like these. Gerard uses Frank’s touch to take a deep breath, to push aside the wave of dread and pain threatening to swallow him.

“Yeah,” he breathes, placing his hand over Frank’s and squeezing.

“Still wanna do this? You can always say no, no problem. We can order pizza and hide upstairs.”

As tempting as that sounds, Gerard shakes his head. He needs to do this. He’s ready.

“I want to”

Frank nods.

Gerard steels himself and reaches over, carefully picking up one of the packages of cobwebs. He holds it in his hands, almost like he’s weighing it.

“Can we put these in the windows?”

Frank smiles, a kind, non judgmental expression that makes Gerard’s heart swell.

“Sure.”

Gerard stands with a smile, feeling lighter than he thought he would as he spreads the fake webs across the windows. It doesn’t look amazing but it does make him happy. Seeing the decorations, remembering past Halloweens. Ones of him and Mikey as kids, matching costumes and stealing each others candy. Of them a little older, binging every horror movie they could get their hands on and shoveling candy into their mouths like they were dying. And then just a few years ago, of going out to parties and getting wasted, pulling shitty guys off Mikey when they wouldn’t take a hint.

As much as there are some harder memories surrounding this month, other than the obvious big one, he also wouldn’t trade them for anything. He even had a few good years with Bert, dressing up and tasting the sweetness of candy on each other's lips. It was good until it wasn’t.

But things are different now. He has Frank.

Frank, who’s sitting there on the floor watching Gerard have a whole ass existential crisis about hanging up fake webs with a supportive smile on his face. It’s moments like this where Gerard wonders what he ever did to deserve this. But Also, he doesn’t think he could imagine where he’d be without Frank. Without this kind of love in his life.

And maybe he isn’t dreading Halloween as much this year. Not if he has Frank here with him.

Chapter Text

23. Prophetic visions

Mikey should be used to the visions by now. He’s had them since he was a kid and, while they never get any easier, they are predictable. Pun intended.

He’s well prepared for the sudden spike of pain in his temple, followed by the quick flash that leads into whatever the Universe is deciding to show him.

Today it hits him as they’re walking back to the buses. He stumbles mid-step and he knows, without feeling it, that there’s an arm around his waist to steady him. The guys have gotten good at reacting quickly to Mikey’s more sudden visions.

Though, there’s not much anyone can do as his head swims and he starts to feel his heartbeat in the throbs of his migraine. The image is grainy and something in him tells him that this is more likely than usual to happen. Mikey sees his brother, older, happier, standing on a stage. It’s gotta be at least a decade from present day, with Gerard’s expression so much less haunted than it is nowadays.

The vision fades and Mikey leans into whoever is holding him. He thinks it might be Frank, given the way he’s sorta hunched over so the person can hold him up.

“Mikes?”

Yep. Definitely Frank.

Mikey groans as a response, the migraine fading rapidly. A plus side of having these visions so often for so long, he recovers very quickly now.

Frank shuffles and Mikey takes more of his own weight, feeling his body already relaxing.

“Here,” Frank says, handing Mikey a bag of chips from his pocket.

Mikey doesn’t ask questions and instead accepts the snack gratefully. Eventually he’s standing fully on his own and feeling like the vision almost didn’t even happen.

Except it did.

Sometimes this part is harder than the vision itself, the knowledge of what he’s seen.

Gerard’s gonna get better and, from how he looked, he’s actually gonna be able to do this whole clean and sober thing. Mikey feels a sense of pride well in his chest. His brother’s been struggling so much recently, they all have, knowing that there’s such a good chance that Gerard’s gonna get better, it makes him want to go tell Gerard.

Show him how it’s gonna pay off.

But he knows he can’t. That he most definitely did not get the whole story in those few moments he saw the future version of his brother.

“You’re quiet,” Frank says, as if Mikey isn’t quiet all the time. “Did you see something big?”

“Yeah.”

Frank leans his weight into Mikey, nearly tipping him over, and starts walking to the bus again.

“Wanna tell me about it?”

Mikey shakes his head. “I want to. But I- I can’t.”

Frank nods, like he gets it. Even though Mikey hasn’t met a single other person who can see the things he can.

“Can you tell me who it was about?”

“Gee.”

Frank slows a bit, turning to face him.

“Was it about?” he makes a gesture to his head.

“Yeah.”

“Does he do it?” Frank presses. “Stay clean this time?”

Mikey shakes his head. Not a no. Just a- can’t tell you.

Frank sighs but seems to understand.

“I just- can you tell me if I need to be worried? Like, if it’s something soon.”

“I saw something in the future. Probably at least a decade from now. There’s no need to worry.”

Frank nods, clearly relieved as he picks up the pace again. Mikey wishes he’d stop slowing down. It’s cold as hell out here.

“God,” Frank says suddenly. “That’d be like, fuckin’ 2014 or some shit. That’s- that's not even a real year!”

Mikey snorts but can’t argue. Thinking that far ahead is just… hard. He’d much rather think about right now. About getting back to his bunk and taking a nap. And also probably hugging the shit out of his stupid brother but you know, he’s found himself doing that often the past few months. And not just because of the visions.

Chapter Text

Bats! Cont…

Mikey wakes slowly. He keeps his eyes closed for as long as he can, trying to drift back down into sleep. He can feel Pete’s presence beside him in bed, half asleep just like himself. He reaches over, intending to wrap his arm around the sleepy form of his boyfriend.

However, Pete is much, much smaller than usual. Without opening his eyes, Mikey knows now that Pete’s a bat. He must have shifted either while asleep, or shortly after waking.

Morning, my love, Mikey says, smiling as Pete burrows further into his chest.

Mikey.

Mikey hums.

Can we stay like this? Everything is so… loud.

Mikey can feel Pete’s sensitivity, the way the weakened light of the sunset is still too bright for his eyes. How the noise of the street just outside, usually comforting, is overwhelming. They both have days like this, where the world seems too big, too loud for their heightened senses. Thankfully, it seems like shifting into the smaller form of a bat helps. It tones everything down, makes it more manageable. With the added bonus of being cute and tiny.

Of course my love. Mikey brings his hand out of the blankets to gently stroke the back of Pete’s little bat head. Do you want to stay in bed? We should eat something.

Pete’s reluctance is tangible but he makes a little squeak out loud.

Do we have to?

Mikey smiles and opens his eyes. Pete’s mastered the pouting expression he’s currently wearing. He’s mastered it in both forms. Though, it’s not like Mikey could ever really deny him anything.

Except stuff like this. Making sure he eats and actually sleeps. They might be technically immortal but they do need to actually, you know, take care of themselves. Something Pete is particularly bad at.

We didn’t eat last night, love. You distracted me.

If bats could blush, Mikey’s certain Pete would be. Though, he doubts either of them have enough blood in their systems to allow them to blush. Again, why they should probably eat something.

Carry me? Pete asks, eyes wide and innocent.

Mikey huffs but can’t hide his smile as he scoops Pete up and climbs out of bed. It’s hard to get dressed while holding him but practice makes perfect, and Mikey is now a master at pulling a hoodie on with Pete in his arms. Pants are harder but, thankfully Pete fits perfectly into his front pocket.

If Gerard wasn’t home Mikey wouldn’t even bother with getting dressed, but he’s still in the dog house for walking out of their room naked last month. It had been an honest mistake, it's not like wanted his brother to see him. But he’d just forgotten. He’d been too determined to grab a blood bag from the fridge to think about scarring his brother again.

Mikey has dish duty for the next two months and he’s not about to risk adding any more time onto that sentence.

Gerard’s already in the kitchen when Mikey comes through. Pete pokes his head out of his pocket. It’s not until Mikey reaches around Gerard for the coffee pot that his brother even notices he’s in the room.

“Oh,” Gee says. “Morning guys.”

Mikey hums as Pete squeaks, drawing Gerard’s attention down to him.

“Bat day?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Mikey answers, pouring himself a cup. “Did you get blood?”

Gerard rolls his eyes.

“Duh. I went at like noon because someone forgot that it was their turn to go and we had none in the house.”

Oh right. Well shit.

“I was distracted,” Mikey says with a shrug.

He feels Pete snort in their heads. He was more than a little distracted.

“Gross,” Gerard deadpans. “Either way. Wait to do that shit until after you go and get the one thing we need to survive, please.”

Mikey shrugs and takes a long drink of his coffee.

“No promises.”

Gerard sighs dramatically but there’s a hint of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“God I hate you two,” he says seriously.

He probably means it. He and Pete really do make Gerard’s life hell. But he still puts up with them so it must not be that bad.

He’s even saved their lives though. Like. Multiple times, so like, he probably isn’t waiting on a chance to kill them. Probably.

Though, Mikey doesn’t think Gee has ever killed anyone. Other than like, when they were both first turned. But that’s a dark thought, one that isn’t something he dares bring up.

“You love us,” Mikey says instead, grabbing a bag of blood from the fridge.

Pete, who’s been quiet through the whole thing, squeaks at the smell. Mikey does his best not to worry about his talkative boyfriend’s unusual quietness. It happens when he gets overwhelmed like this, sometimes he just wants to watch Mikey go about his day.

Mikey hums as he pulls a small dish from a nearby cabinet and pours a little blood into it. It’s one of the days where the bond already feels stronger, meaning that Mikey isn’t sure what he’s humming out loud and what’s just in their heads. But it doesn’t matter. Because it’s for Pete anyway, to keep him grounded and remind him that Mikey’s here.

He lets Pete climb up onto the counter to drink, while he simply punctures the bag and sucks down the blood that flows. The fresh stuff always tastes the best, that’s one thing Mikey doesn’t mind remembering. To a degree.

Sometimes they do feed off people, but only people who ask. The occasional asshole has been fed from though, when they’ve said something horrible to the two gay guys walking down the street. But they’ve never killed. Or well- Pete has never killed.

Mikey didn’t quite have a choice in the matter. But he’s sorta come to peace with that. At least, it doesn’t haunt him quite as much as it does his brother.

As he finishes his bag and blinks back down to Pete, he feels the gentle question his boyfriend is asking. It doesn’t quite have words but it’s a feeling. And the bond is strong enough to where Mikey doesn’t even need to hear words to know what Pete’s asking.

I’m okay, he assures him. Just thinkin’.

He feels the love pour through the bond, telling Mikey that if Pete were in human form he’d be getting a long beautiful speech of his boyfriend waxing poetic about how much he loves him. And, once again, even without the words it makes Mikey’s heart swell. God- he loves him.

I love you too.

Pete finishes his meal shortly after and Mikey lets him climb back into his hoodie pocket. He deposits them both on the couch and wraps a blanket around them, even though it’s not particularly cold. Today feels like a do nothing kinda day. And Mikey is more than okay with that.

Chapter Text

Costumes (FOB)

Patrick ties his tie in front of a full length mirror. In the reflection, he can see Pete fumbling with his own costume. It brings a smile to Patrick’s face, watching Pete.

They’ve had so many holidays together over the years and at least a good five years after they met that was before they figured out their feelings. So it shouldn’t be a big deal to see Pete getting into costume. But it is.

They used to go to parties together, dressed in the most annoying couples costumes they could find. Even before they were dating. But as they’ve gotten older they’ve sorta mellowed out. If mellowing out means that they just stay home and give out enough candy to ensure their house is the “cool house” on their street. That and the fact that they still do some pretty badass costumes.

This year, Pete is going as Jack Skellington, something he somehow hasn’t done until now. While Patrick is Sally. It’s a big cliche but Patrick really couldn’t care. Pete looks good in his costume, happy in a way that Patrick used to see so rarely.

“Ready, Trick?” Pete asks, pulling Patrick from his thoughts.

While Patrick was getting sentimental, Pete’s finished putting on his makeup. He’s really selling the whole look honestly, and it shouldn't be as hot as it is.

“Yes,” Patrick answers, pulling Pete in by the waist to kiss him.

After just a few seconds Pete pushes away, smiling and laughing.

“You’ll smear the makeup!”

Patrick laughs too, as if that wasn't part of his plan.

The doorbell rings before he can say anything else and Pete is dragging him to the door. The first trick or treaters of the night stand on their doorstep, smiling and absolutely going feral the second Pete pulls out the full sized candy bars. Patrick settles down on one of the chairs on the porch, situated by the door so they can give out candy without having to go in and out. Pete pulls a chair up beside him and a blanket Patrick doesn’t remember seeing him grab.

Pete drapes the blanket over their laps and smiles, bright and genuine as they wait for the next group of kids. Patrick feels his heart swell, the kind of feeling that only Pete has been able to give him. It’s a far fetch to how crazy their lives have been, how they can still be. But Patrick doesn’t think he’d trade this for anything.