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wemayhavestartedthefiresorry · 4 years

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“Six or Seven what? Beers? Shots? Gallons?”

pairing: reader x tony stark

summary: Peter brings you to Tony’s house after a frat party. You’ve been drinking a lot and you drunkenly confess your crush on Tony. (AU where Tony is still alive after the snap and Pepper isn’t in the picture lmao.)

warnings: age gap, PTSD from the snap, mentions of alcoholism, angst, fluff, angry Tony, drunk reader

note: This one shot doesn’t really fit into the series in cannon. Reader is assumed to have helped the avengers with Thanos. I’m LIVING for angry Tony >:) I’m not a fan of Pepper Potts so lmao shes gone BYE

Tony sat in his workshop working on something that you had no chance at understanding. Especially since you were blackout drunk. Peter held your arm as the both of you walked down the steps. His music was loud but Tony often had it that way. So he didn’t notice as you stumbled down the stairs.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter tried to speak over the music but with no luck. Tony was facing the other way. You looked at him in your drunken stupor, he was terrified. “Mr. Stark?!” He yelled again, but to no avail. You couldn’t help but giggle. You wiggled yourself loose from Peter’s gentle grip and ran over to Tony. He was working on something that looked small, maybe a microchip or something smart. You carelessly wrapped your arms around him, giving him a back hug and effectively scaring the shit out of him. He looked over his shoulder with his eyebrows furled.

“FRIDAY, pause my playlist.” He called out. The music ceased almost instantly.

“Hi Tony!” you smiled widely, still hugging him.

“Who let you in here? Was it FRIDAY?” He looked at you, then Peter. “If you haven’t noticed, I have a strict ‘no children’ policy in my workshop.”

“I know, I’m sorry Mr. Stark. It’s just-”

“I’m not a child! I’m twenty three and 4 months old!” You blurted out. “Maybe you’re just older than dirt- no, older than dinosaur bones.” You laughed at your own joke, no one else did...

“You’re two hundred and eighty months old, you’re essentially an infant. Are you going to get off of me anytime soon?” Tony said.

Peter began to ramble. “We went to a party at a frat house and (Y/N) was doing shots and I was trying to get her to stop but she kept going and I didn’t know what to do and I can’t remember where she lives and she wouldn’t tell me because she didn’t want to leave the party and then she kept saying she just wanted to see you so I brought her here and I’m really sorry Mr. Stark-”

“Were you drinking too?” He interrupted.

“No, I wasn’t. I swear Mr. Stark I didn’t even look at any of the alcohol-”

“It’s okay, kid. I believe you. But you better keep it that way or I'm taking the suit.”

“No, sir. I mean- yes, sir.”

“How did you get here?”

“I took an uber.”

“FRIDAY, get the kid a ride back home.” Tony called out.

“Yes, sir.” FRIDAY responded. “A car will be out front for Mr. Parker.”

“It’s Friday Friday, gotta get down on Friday-” You began to sing off key.

“Thank you Mr. Stark.” Peter said.

“Yeah, we’ll talk more about this tomorrow...” He trailed off, looking down at the leech attached to him. Peter made his way back up the stairs to catch his ride. Tony was so warm, you didn’t want to let go. Usually you’re reserved in the way you act in front of your crushes but you were too drunk to care.

“So are you going to let go or am I your new life source now?” He asked. You peered up at him with a goofy smile but you got the hint and decided to let go. He turned around to face you. “My god,” He sniffed the air. “You smell like a distillery, and that means a lot coming from me. I literally own a distillery.”

“That’s weird,” You cocked your head to the side, “I haven’t been to a distillery.” you slurred. But something across the room caught your attention; the bar. You walked towards it to make another drink. Tony caught on to your plan quickly.

“Oh no you don’t,” He quickly stepped in front of you and crossed his arms. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“C’mon Tony, have a drink with me. I’d much rather drink with you than with some stupid frat boys anyway.” You turned away from him and took a seat in one of his desk chairs. “You’re more my speed. I don’t like hanging out with people my age, they’re too immature.”

“Yep, you’re definitely the poster boy for maturity right now. How much exactly did you drink?” He asked.

“Hm” You started to count on your fingers and mumble to yourself. You couldn’t remember how much you had actually drank. You took a guess. “Six- maybe seven.”

“Six or seven what? Beers? Shots? Gallons?”

“Maybe eight,” You got distracted and started to play with the spinny chair.

“You’re going to make yourself dizzy- Y/N, stop that.” You didn’t listen to him. “If you throw up on my floor I’m sending you the dry cleaning bill.” He said, but you still didn’t listen. He gave up and walked over and stopped the chair from spinning by grabbing the armrests. Leaving you and him face to face. For a moment you got so lost in his eyes that you forgot where you were.

“You know, you’re kinda cute when you're angry.” You reached out and pinched his cheek. You giggled, he wasn’t happy.

“That’s it, sport. You’re going home. FRIDAY-” He called out, but you cut him off before he got the chance to send you home.

“Jeez, Tony,” You whined. “Don’t be such a party pooper. I thought you were supposed to be the fun one.”

“Oh, I am.” He raised his eyebrows. Suddenly he seemed very annoyed, oops. “What’s not fun is taking a high schooler to a college party, getting blackout drunk, and making him take care of you.” His anger was subtle and masked with sarcasm but it sobered you a little bit. Your smile began to fade.

“I-” You were at a loss for words. Tony had never expressed anger at you before. “I’m sorry…”

“What you did tonight was at best irresponsible and at worst dangerous.” His temper was rising, you could tell he was reaching his boiling point. “What were you thinking? You know what, don’t answer that.” He held his finger up. “You” He pointed, “are going home.”

“Tony, I'm sorry. I mean it. It was a stupid mistake.” You began, getting more and more upset by the moment. Tears started to sting at your eyes and your voice trembled. “I won’t do it again. I just can’t be alone after everything that happened. Drinking is the only thing that makes me feel okay and I just-” You felt a tear drip down your cheek. For the past few months you had been having trouble with your PTSD from the Thanos snap. Even though it was all over, the trauma still scarred you. You used alcohol to cope.

“Shhh,” Tony’s expression softened. If anyone understood that struggle, it was him. “It's okay.”

“Please don’t be angry at me, I can’t-” you choked out as you tried to hold back your tears. “I can’t handle you being angry at me. I can handle when Steve is mad at me, I can handle when Clint is mad at me, hell, I can even handle when Nat is mad at me. But you? Not you.” Tony pulled you into a hug, petting your hair with his hand. You let yourself cry onto his t-shirt.

“I’m not angry at you. It’s okay…” He cooed. “I understand it more than anyone, trust me.” His chest was soft and warm, you loved the way his expensive cologne smelled. It seemed like a mix of pine and spice. It smelled like home. You pulled back to look him in the face. Through your dizzy drunkenness, you could feel the tension between you two. Looking into his eyes made your stomach flutter, you were sure that he felt it too. After a momentary pause, you leaned in and kissed his lips. He barely kissed back, but he didn’t reject it either. The kiss was quick, kind of like an experiment. You pulled back and stared at him, waiting for a chemical reaction. He stayed confused.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss you.” You said, breaking the silence. “I’ve liked you for a while but I’ve been too shy to say anything.” You anxiously awaited his response.

“(Y/N), I’m old enough to be your father-”

“I don’t care.” You cut him off. “I like you. I want to be with you. You’re the only person that truly makes me feel safe and that’s why I wanted to come here. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want to be with you.” There was a long pause. Tony seemed to be thinking very carefully about what to say next. He looked at you with a mix of confusion and sympathy.

“Let’s talk about this tomorrow. I think we should get you to bed.”

“Okay…” You said, slightly disappointed but understanding that he didn’t want to talk about it. You walked up the stairs with him and he brought you to the guest room. You peered in through the open door as you stood in the frame. It was roomy and looked comfortable, but the whole reason you didn’t want to go home is because you didn’t want to sleep alone.

“You can sleep in here. I’ll just be right down the hallway, okay?” he said.

“Okay.” You replied. He began to walk away but suddenly you got the courage to speak up. “Tony?” you called to him and he turned around. “Can I sleep with you tonight?” You asked timidly. He paused for a moment.

“Sure, just for tonight.” you smiled. “But if you throw up I’m kicking you out.” He teased, you giggled as you walked towards his room. “I’m being completely serious.” You waltzed into his room and flopped down on his bed. He turned around and started rifling through his dresser.

“You can borrow my clothes to sleep in,” He said with his back turned. “I’ll probably have to incinerate them tomorrow to get the smell of whiskey out of it but here-” He turned around to look at you, but while he had been looking for pajamas you had already fallen asleep.

The next morning you woke up with a pounding headache. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sat up, groaning with exhaustion. You looked around at the room. Tony had fallen asleep on the comfy chair on the other side of the room, he was passed out. You looked down at your clothes. You weren’t wearing what you left the house in last night. Suddenly nausea overcame you and you ran to the bathroom as quickly as you could to throw up in the toilet. You leaned over the porcelain bowl and yacked for a while, but you felt better afterwards. You took a deep breath, washed your face and mouth out in the sink, and walked back into Tony’s room. Clearly you stirred him with your vomiting because he had already woken up and left the room. You crawled back in bed wearing Tony’s oversize t-shirt and no pants, you covered your legs with the soft plush blanket. Tony walked in.

“Good morning, Dionysus. How’s your head?” He sat at the end of the bed with a glass of water and an aspirin. You winced in pain.

“It’s just peachy, thank you.”

“Here, take this.” He handed it to you and without hesitation, you took it.

“What happened last night?” You asked, your memory was still hazy.

“Peter brought you here after you went to a frat party and you refused to go to your own home. You passed out on my bed but not before confessing your crush on me.” He stated very matter-of-factly. You could tell he was basking in the fact that you were reaping the consequences of your actions. Your stomach dropped. It all came back to you… the crying, the kiss, the confession.

“Oh no,” You shut your eyes tightly.

“Oh yes, and I believe you mentioned that I’m older than dirt. Or was it ‘older than dinosaur bones’?” You cringed. You couldn’t believe you said that to his face. “You’re quite the flirt when you drink.” You looked down at your clothes and suddenly a big question hit you.

“Oh my god, did we…?”

“Absolutely not, you came in and passed out on my bed. I figured you didn’t want to sleep in a leather skirt so I changed you…” A moment of silence hung in the air. “Don’t flatter yourself, I didn’t look.” He avoided eye contact.

“Thank you…” You felt bad for being such a pain when he was being so kind to you. “I’m sorry for um, saying all that stuff to you last night. But also for the kiss...” You took a deep breath trying to build up the courage to talk about your feelings. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while…” You awaited his response.

“I know,” He said to your surprise.

“You knew?” You said in disbelief.

“I’ve always known, Y/N. I see the way you look at me, I’m not stupid.”

“W-why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“You’re half my age, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Tony, that doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care about how old you are.” You assured him.

“Your drunk alter ego seems to care.” He teased.

Are you saying you feel the same way?” You asked, trying to make sense of everything.

“Yeah-” Before he could finish his sentence you cut him off with a kiss, a sober one this time. You felt him lean into you, caressing your face in his hand. Despite the age gap, it felt right. You felt safe. As your lips disconnected, you locked eyes with him. He sighed.

“What?” you asked.

“I need to find you a toothbrush,” You cracked a smile. “You smell terrible too. I’ll turn on the shower for you.” He stood up and walked out of the room. Although your head was pounding, your heart was full with joy. Tony was finally yours.

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themurphyzone · 4 years

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PatB Oneshot: Broken

Summary: Pinky’s just trying to help, but he may have unwittingly driven a wedge between himself and his best friend in the whole wide world.

AN: Inspiration comes from skimmingsurface’s 100 Ways to Feel. Specifically, #52 Broken.

FFN Link

So many pretty dizzy swirling stars! Pinky giggled, his entire body swaying like one of those spinny tops he could never get to spin for more than a few seconds. Brain really outdid himself on this plan with the Hip-Hop Scooper Austria Protractor, even though it went kaplooey and threw them off the building.

Still, it was fun pretending to be a champion skydiver while it lasted!

“Oh that was jolly good fun!” Pinky exclaimed. The dizziness let him go, but Pinky knew it would be back soon enough. Next time, they’d play tilt-a-whirl together for sure! Pinky always forgot to suggest that game. “Do they have medals for skydiving? I think my triple doozy cartwheel was worth a bronze. What do you think, Brain? Brain?”

Pinky looked around, but there was only the burnt metal of Brain’s creation and several chipped bricks around him.

“Are you playing Marco Polo, Brain?” Pinky massaged his temple in the same way Brain often did when he pondered deep ponderings. He could really use those little invisible beings that helped Brain come up with his plans right now. “Great idea! Marco!”

“HELP!”

Oh dear. Brain needed lessons on how to play Marco Polo. It was the one of the most important games of the day alongside Chase Me and Candyland after all.

“Marco!” Pinky called again.

A nearby brick shifted onto its side, revealing part of a pink, crooked tail underneath.

Pinky gasped, rushing to the other side of the brick, where Brain laid flat on his stomach with his limbs splayed out. “Brain, are you okay? Did the fall make you forget about Marco Polo?”

Brain gritted his teeth so hard Pinky thought they’d break. The Tooth Fairy would never visit him again if he didn’t have teeth!

“Of course I know who Marco Polo is, you…you imbecile,” Brain ground out, trying to push himself up. Pinky grabbed Brain’s arm to be helpful, but Brain drew a shuddering breath and yanked his arm away. “Get this brick off my tail at once.”

Pinky’s tail tingled, like it was smooshed under a brick too. It didn’t feel nearly as good as one of Brain’s bops though.

“Okay, Brain,” Pinky said. He pushed his entire body against the brick, taking extra care to avoid stepping on Brain’s tail. Since the brick was already lopsided, he only had to push slightly harder than he normally pushed a pencil until it landed on a different side. “All clear!”

Brain groaned and stood up, reaching behind his back and bringing his tail closer to inspect it. The break closest to his body made a small clicking noise, and Brain winced as he carefully felt the area the brick had unkindly smashed.

Pinky flicked his own tail, feeling the wavy and waggy sweeps he could make that Brain’s stiff tail never seemed to do. Now that he thought about it, Brain really only used his tail to open the cage. It wasn’t good for jumping rope or a pretend wand that magically made his voice louder.

It was the saddest tale of a mouse’s tail he’d ever heard. Well, except for the movie with the little Russian mouse who got separated from his parents. That was even sadder.

“Another failure,” Brain sighed, finally letting go of his tail. It snapped back into place, the tip bent at an odd angle. “No portion of the Hyperscopic Astral Projector can be salvaged. Come, Pinky. We should head back to the lab and recuperate for tomorrow night.”

“What are we gonna do tomorrow night, Brain?” Pinky asked, following Brain out of the rubble. “Besides making cheese cube and chunky peanut butter sandwiches, of course.”

Brain whipped around, his fists clenching against his sides. His scowl deepened, even though Brain always scowled. But somehow it looked deeper.

“Brain, you’re all coily like a spring,” Pinky said. Nothing a quick massage wouldn’t fix though. “Not good for your shoulders. Nope. Not at all.”

He reached for Brain’s shoulders, but his hands were slapped away with a sharp smack.

“Not in the mood, Pinky!” Brain snarled, his entire body wracked with tension. “Keep your absurd comments to yourself!”

Brain stomped far ahead of Pinky, and although he never remained out of sight for long, the distance was just too much for them to talk normally.

“Poit…” Pinky murmured to a faded poster of David Hasselhoff as he passed a Blockbuster store.

It just seemed like the only thing he could say, and Mr. Hasselhoff didn’t really offer any useful advice.

o-o-o-o-o

As soon as they got back to the lab, Pinky brought out the shared first aid kit. He hoped that a little TLC would help bring Brain’s super extra grumblyness down to normal grumblyness.

Brain scribbled angry red marks in his notebook with an equally angry red pen, slashing out a bunch of numbers arranged in a pattern that vaguely reminded Pinky of a goose. Or was it a rutabaga? Either way, Brain’s tail needed all the dinosaur bandages it could hold.

Dinosaur band-aids were happy. So were Disney Princess band-aids and superhero band-aids cause they gave him hugs on his owies and they’d stay there until it didn’t hurt anymore. But Pinky didn’t like removing them much cause that meant goodbye and the bandages never wanted to let go of his fur. So he let the bandages keep the fur they never meant to rip out as a going away gift.

Pinky opened the first aid kit, bringing out the magic salve that soothed all their aches and bumps and bruises and the dinosaur band-aids. Now if only he could pick a band-aid. That was always a toughie.

Sharpteeth’s arms were too tiny for a good hug, and longnecks and threehorns didn’t have arms at all. Flyers had wings they could wrap you in, and Pinky almost picked that, but then his hand brushed against the blue band-aid with a smiling mama swimmer and happy little baby swimmers.

A happy band-aid would give happier hugs! It was more obviouser than string cheese and chocolate pudding!

Pinky tucked the swimmer band-aid under his arm and walked over to Brain, who muttered furiously to himself as he slammed his hand against the calculator keys. Even the clacking was frantic and couldn’t be good for Brain’s palm at all.

“Impossible! I couldn’t have miscalculated the distance. There was enough range in the Projector to circle the globe two times over,” Brain growled, pacing in front of the number display, wincing with every step he took. But his feet continued to make the angry pitter-patter sounds. After about three or eight rounds of pacing across the counter, he finally looked up with a scowl. “What do you want, Pinky?”

“Oh, I filled up on cheese and food pellets before we left,” Pinky said as he unwrapped the swimmer band-aid. “My stomach doesn’t want anything right now. But your owies look like they could use a little something. Narf!”

Brain glanced at his tailtip, which was still hanging at an odd angle. “It hardly matters in the grand scheme of things, Pinky. A slight injury won’t incapacitate me. Whatever poor imitations of thoughts you have in your cotton-filled head are entirely unwarranted.”

“Oh no, Brain. I don’t have cotton in my head.” Pinky shook his head just to be certain. Nope. No cotton here. “It’s more like gum, actually.”

“Even worse,” Brain sighed.

Pinky waited a moment or two, but Brain made no move to fix himself up. Maybe he needed directions?

“So…” Pinky rocked on his heels. “You gonna apply the band-aid or-“

“I will if you’ll stop pestering me about it!” Brain snapped. He cast the swimmer band-aid aside and stomped past Pinky, pulling out a plain brown roll of bandages and a small bottle of water-that-didn’t-taste-like-water from the first-aid kit. With a small huff, Brain turned his back to Pinky and tried to reach around for his tail, only to find that it was a lot harder to bring it to the front since he’d waited too long to treat it.

“Do you need help?” Pinky asked.

“No,” Brain said curtly. But his tail just wasn’t recuperating. And that wasn’t right. It was hurting Brain, so it was being a very bad tail right now.

He uncapped the bottle and squeezed it to get a little of the not-water out, then brushed his tailtip against the nozzle, managing to get a little of the not-water on the achy-breaky area.

Then Brain fidgeted for a while, turning every way he could to try and hold his tail and the bandages at the same time, but nothing seemed to work. He tried to straighten one of the bends in his tail, but his frown grew frownier and his foot stomped angrily. Then he tried to hold the bandages in place with his foot, but the roll…well, rolled away.

Pinky ran after the roll of plain bandages that didn’t have the swimmer band-aid’s happy colors, but if they still gave good hugs then it was alright if they didn’t have happy colors he could see. He caught the bandages before they could roll off the counter.

“Bad band-aids!” Pinky scolded the bundle in his arms as he carried them back to his bestest friend. “You’re supposed to be helping Brain!”

“They’re inanimate objects subject to the laws of physics, annoying as it may be,” Brain said, keeping both hands on his tail so it didn’t escape again. “Bring that roll over here and stay a considerable distance away from me while I wrap this up.”

Pinky set the roll next to Brain and backed up a few steps. “Is considerable more or less than an inch?”

Or maybe that was milliliters. Distances could be awfully confusing.

“Do I dare grace that with a response?” Brain muttered.

Pinky wondered what they were going to dare Grace to do, maybe lick a broom or quack like a horse.

Brain tried to wrap his tailtip again, but neither the bandages or tail were following instructions. He sat down, leaning forward to avoid hurting the other breaks in his tail, yet he got nowhere and Pinky was starting to have a very bad ache in his chest cause Brain wasn’t getting any closer to feeling better.

If the not-water helped Brain’s tail, maybe it would help Pinky’s ache too? Pinky squeezed the bottle, but he put his face too close to the nozzle and several drops of not-water splashed onto his nose instead. Giggling at his slight mishap, Pinky tried to touch his nose to his chest to get the dampness into the right place.

Except his nose didn’t want to touch his achy chest. Like how he couldn’t lick his elbow. Unless there was a mirror. Then he could lick the mirror Pinky’s elbow.

“Pinky! Stop grooming yourself in such a primitive manner!” Brain scolded. “If you’re truly a genetically spliced mouse, then act like it!”

“Zort! Okay, Brain,” Pinky nodded, rubbing his damp nose with one hand. “How’s your achy-breaky tail?”

Brain rolled his eyes. “At a most unfortunate and unreachable area for me to attempt alone, as much as I detest admitting it. Since you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful and“- his shoulders stiffened- “hold my tail while I wrap it.”

Oh, how he loved being useful! It was one of the best fuls out there! Pinky skipped over to Brain, tripping over himself with one hoppy foot and smacking his jaw against the counter.

“Be grateful I’m in far too much pain to hurt you right now,” Brain said, his jaw jutting out in a little pout.

Pinky recovered from his fall and sat up, hiding a chortle behind his hands. Brain’s pouty and squinty face was just too funny.

“A neon sign is far more subtle than you,” Brain grumbled.

“I love looking at the pretty neon signs!” Pinky exclaimed. “Especially if they have arrows on them. All arrows lead to yummy cheese!”

Pinky carefully took hold of Brain’s crooked tail, one hand near the tip and his other hand next to a sharp break. Brain took a deep breath, his ears flattening ever so slightly. But he wasn’t letting go of his tail.

“Brain, aren’t you gonna put the band-aids on?” Pinky asked.

His bestest friend was acting funny, and not the good sort of funny either. Brain’s entire body was tense, his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Y-yes. Of course I’m wrapping it,” Brain said. He snatched up the bandages, frowning at the messy bundle. “It would be far easier if this was rolled properly.”

Once Brain finally found a loose end, he tore off a small strip of band-aid from the roll and folded it over his tail. His hands flicked against Pinky’s while he wrapped his tail and Pinky couldn’t help smiling cause it felt like softer bops for his fingers.

“Hold still, Pinky,” Brain ordered. He pushed Pinky’s hand closer to the tip so he could check the area underneath.

But Pinky was holding still. He was being more stiller than a statue!

Then Pinky looked behind him. His tail was swishy-sweepy all over the place! It wasn’t obeying Brain at all!

“Bad tail!” Pinky scolded, leaning back a little to catch his very naughty tail. “Stay still or I’ll put you on a seventeen second timeout, mistah! Narf!”

Then he realized he’d leaned back too much.

Snap.

It was only a quiet crick, barely louder than the hum of the lab, but now Brain’s tailtip felt stiff and crooked and bent, the nearby bandage pointing sharply to the ceiling.

Brain’s pink eyes were wide, the widest Pinky had ever seen them. But it wasn’t the wide eyes that came when something went unexpectedly right in his plans. His mouth opened in surprise, his big ears hung limply.

It was Brain’s pained cry that reminded Pinky to let go of the crooked tail. Slowly, Pinky slipped the tip into Brain’s palm and scooted back.

“I’m s-sorry…I didn’t…I really…” Pinky stammered.

But Brain’s fearful expression made Pinky’s chest ache worse. Wasn’t the not-water supposed to help? Instead it made Pinky’s heart drop into his tummy.

“It appears I was mistaken,” Brain said, his voice so soft that Pinky had to strain both ears to pick up on it.

“Mistaken?” Pinky asked.

“Yes,” Brain nodded, but it wasn’t a happy yes. Pinky’s ears dropped. Brain’s yeses were supposed to be happy. “I never should’ve entrusted you with any important task.”

“You don’t trust me, Brain?” Pinky didn’t know what the n sound at the beginning of trust was, but he knew he trusted Brain with everything important like food pellets and wheels and scented markers. “It’s alright. I trust you.”

“That’s not how it works, you naïve dolt!” Brain shouted, leaping to his feet. He scowled and turned away from Pinky. “If I can’t expect you to follow the simplest instructions, then clearly I have no business trusting you.”

He couldn’t see Brain’s face anymore.

“I’m sorry for breaking your tail,” Pinky whispered.

Brain turned slightly, only one pink eye visible beneath his brow. Pinky didn’t know what Brain was thinking, but it definitely had to be something supersmart. Pinky tried to make his face look really truly sorry, but he didn’t know what sorry looked like on a face, so he took his best guess.

Then Brain walked into the cage without another word.

Cleaning the counter was a lonely job without Brain to scold him for making a mess of things. When everything was stored in the first-aid kit, Pinky yawned, ready to cuddle up next to Brain in their twin straw beds.

Only to find Brain had shifted his entire bed to another corner.

Pinky nuzzled his lonely straw bed. Brain settled in the darkest part of the cage, away from the sliver of starlight that spilled from their window. The broken, bandaged tail was hidden from view, where it couldn’t be hurt for the next few hours.

Straw rustled as Brain tossed and turned in his corner. And no matter how many horses Pinky counted, he couldn’t sleep either.

o-o-o-o-o

The next morning, a techie plucked Pinky out of his wheel. Pinky waved goodbye to Brain, but he just mumbled a big word to himself and stayed out of reach from the techie’s buddy, who was making a funny face as she tried to grab Brain with a double gloved hand.

Early morning exercise was so fun! Pinky giggled as he dangled and swung around in the air, the techie’s fingers pinching his tail to keep him from falling. Of course, his wheel was great too. He couldn’t leave his poor wheel out of the fun!

The techie set Pinky in a covered maze full of twisty turns and turny twists. He pressed a button on a nearby camera, and left Pinky alone once he was through setting everything up.

“Poor man.” Pinky shook his head as the techie dashed into the breakroom for coffee and donuts. “Narf! He really shouldn’t skip breakfast. What kind of donuts do you think they’ve got in there, Brain? I could go for some powdered sugar donut holes myself.”

The camera swiveled, the only light blinkedy-blinking on its side. Every path was pitch-black, the vague outlines of high walls surrounding him.

“I don’t want any bla-bla big word sugar cause I’m a big ol’ grouch, Pinky.”

Oh, that was Brain alright.

“But wouldn’t you just be a lil’ grouch, Brain? Only your head is big and chubby. The rest of you is ittier-bittier than a mouse!”

“Don’t use that word, you icicle.”

“Poit. Sorry, Brain. Which way to the yummy cheese?” Pinky rubbed his tummy, which was growling very Brain-like growls.

“We’ll hug the left wall. So simple even a something-something like you can do it.”

A left wall then! Brilliant!

“Whatever you say, Brain!” Pinky saluted and skipped over to what he guessed was the left wall, though it was a little hard to tell which was left since it was so dark. Then he threw his arms around the wall and hugged it.

Since walls couldn’t hug back, Pinky hugged twice as hard, only releasing his embrace when Brain cleared his throat. Pinky kept a hand along the wall as he skipped further into the dark maze.

“Just like nighttime, except without the stars. Where’d the stars go, Brain? I thought they only slept during the day.”

The left wall disappeared under his hand, and no matter how much Pinky tried to convince it to stay, it wouldn’t come with him. He grasped at empty, black space instead.

“I can’t find the left wall, Brain. Help me look?”

Brain didn’t reply.

“Okay, you can think about your plan thingies. Um…Mom always said if I get lost, I should find my way with echoes! Just like a hummingbird!” Pinky inhaled and picked a random direction, though it was awfully confusing when he couldn’t tell which direction he was facing. Maybe southeast? “ZORT!”

Zort! Zort! Zort!

“Five echoes deep!” Pinky exclaimed as he charged down the corridor. “Shouldn’t be too far to the cheese now, Brain!”

Except he couldn’t smell cheese or pellets or any kind of food. And he couldn’t see his own hand anymore.

Nor did he hear Brain’s footsteps.

“Brain? Where’d you go?” Pinky called.

He ran after his bestest friend, his chest aching deeply. But he pushed past the bad pain, which was sore and raw and not at all like the tingly feelings Brain’s smacks often gave him.

Pinky’s nose smashed into a wall or two as he tried to find Brain, his tail tripping him several times. But he kept running, cause if he didn’t, he’d get lost and never see Brain again.

“I don’t know where I’m going, Brain. Am I close?”

Pinky wrung his tail, the tip pressed against his chest. If he let go, the scary monsters would snatch it.

“Are you still here, Brain?”

Pinky’s lip trembled, a tear slipping down his cheek and splashing on his hand.

“I’m sorry I broke your tail! If you wa…wanna go…I don’t mind. P-p-poit,” Pinky whimpered. He reached out, only to touch a wall. He turned in another direction. Another wall. “Can…can you just show me the way out? Before you leave.”

Brain wouldn’t let the walls stop him. He was smart enough to figure out the way through. Where Pinky couldn’t follow cause he was just a dum-dum who couldn’t pass through walls.

It was dark and wet and dark all over again. He didn’t know where he was. He just wanted to see again.

Pinky curled himself against the wall. But the wall wasn’t a good hugger. Good huggers have arms, and walls don’t have arms.

He didn’t deserve huggy arms though.

He broke Brain’s tail just like he broke Mom and Sis and Dad’s hearts.

What would his family think of him now? Sis would be heartbroken. He just wanted to be a good brother for her, though he didn’t know how he could be a good brother if he wasn’t there to teach her how to play Chase Me or eat food pellets.

Mom would cry cause she had such a dum-dum for a son. Dad would be mad cause he made Mom cry.

Brain could take over the world cause he wouldn’t be there to break his plans, his things, his tail.

And who could blame them?

He didn’t want anything to do with himself either.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Pinky’s ears flicked.

The scary monster was coming.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The taps kept coming, and Pinky curled up tighter.

“Sorry. You’ll have to come back some other time. I’m too stringy and blue right now,” Pinky whispered. “Blue tastes icky and sad.”

The taps stopped, and a thin beam of light flashed in the corner of Pinky’s vision.

“Pinky, what are you babbling about?”

The mad-worry-more mad voice.

Brain.

“Guess you found me after all, Brain.” Pinky tried to smile, but his lips wouldn’t turn up like they were supposed to. “Thought you’d made it to the end with your magic maze solving skills.”

“It’s called deduction, Pinky.”

“Oh.”

Neither spoke. For a while, there was nothing except the nervous tapping of fingers against metal.

“What are you doing, Brain? Aren’t you busy?”

Brain was a busybee. He was always grumping, always pondering, always scribbling.

“…don’t know where the wheel oil is. I can’t concentrate while the wheel is incessantly squeaking.”

“It’s by the wheel. I always keep them together.”

“Yes…of course,” Brain said, an odd flicker in his voice. “You’ll just have to show me then. Let’s go.”

Yet Pinky didn’t get up.

“You don’t need me,” Pinky forced out. It hurt to think it, to speak it, but it was true. “I’ll just break the wheel like I broke your tail. I broke your tail, Brain. I’ll break everything.”

A sob clawed its way out of his throat, and Pinky shushed it, his breath hitching.

It was dark, it was dingy, and Pinky just wanted out. He wanted to see so badly.

“Turn around and lift your head, Pinky.”

Pinky wiped a few tears and obeyed, pressing his back to the wall as he pushed himself up.

The thin beam from the mini flashlight illuminated Brain’s face for the briefest moment before the flashlight was set down, the beam pointing to the wall. Then Brain turned around, picking up a long, thin plastic tube and dragging it over to Pinky.

“The employees are unprofessional and always leave their cheap party favors lying around,” Brain said. He looped the plastic tube around Pinky’s neck. “But I know more efficient uses for these chemicals.”

Both ends clicked together, a blue glow working its way through the tubing until Pinky had a neon blue ring around his neck.

“A glowstick?” Pinky asked. Not that he wasn’t appreciative. Things were much less scary now, thanks to Brain and the glowstick. He loved it. He really truly honestly did. But he’d broken Brain’s tail, and now Brain was giving him pretty things? “I love it, but-“

“I don’t need a reminder,” Brain snapped. He sighed heavily and sat down, drawing his knees up to his chest. “I’d like to pose a hypothesis for you.”

A glowstick and a hippo? It was so much, and Pinky wasn’t sure if he deserved either one. “Thanks, but I don’t think an entire hippopotamus would fit in here. And there’s definitely not enough light for a photoshoot.”

“A hypothesis is a question. Evidently I was wrong that you’d learn something from the childish poster of the scientific method next to our cage.”

If all he wanted to do was ask a question, he could’ve just asked! Brain was so confused sometimes.

The glowstick’s blue light shone right on Brain’s head, and Pinky pushed and pulled on the tubing, making the light dance in pretty patterns.

“Why did you apologize when you didn’t bend my tail on purpose?” Brain asked. With some difficulty, he brought his tail around and gingerly touched the broken tip.

“I hurt you, Brain,” Pinky sniffed, unable to stop the tear from rolling down his cheek. “I didn’t mean to, but I did, and I really am sorry. Honest.”

“As several failed plans have proven, you’re incapable of deception. I’ll try to remember that,” Brain said quietly. His hand reached out before stopping an inch away from the tear, then dropped down again. Brain looked away.

Pinky’s smile still wasn’t working. He had Brain and the pretty glowstick. Something was still missing.

“Brain? How many sorries should I say to make you feel better? Am I not saying it enough?” Pinky trembled and cried onto the glowstick.

No matter how many sorries it took, he’d say however many he needed to!

“Pinky, your lacrimal ducts are the ones leaking, not mine. Apologies aren’t necessary.” Brain ducked his head, avoiding Pinky’s gaze. “There’s…a method you haven’t tried yet. I suppose an excessively needy being such as yourself requires it. I’m usually above these displays of course, but I can make an allowance for this occasion and this won’t become a habit in the future so don’t get any ideas in your lack of a mind or-“

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, Brain,” Pinky said. He’d never seen Brain so nervous-grumpy before.

“I’m asking if you require a hug, Pinky!” Brain scowled.

Pinky’s jaw dropped, and he was sure it was on the ground somewhere. He’d have to crawl around on his hands and knees to find it again.

“Egad, a hug?” Pinky breathed.

A fresh wave of tears sprung up, but these felt…different. They were relieving tears. Happy tears. Joyful tears.

“I can still rescind my offer,” Brain warned, his ears flattening.

Pinky laughed, and it was the most wonderful laugh he’d had all day. “I’d love a hug, Brain,” he said when Brain’s foot tapped in annoyance.

Brain took a deep breath, slowly leaning his head against Pinky’s chest. His cheek smushed against Pinky’s fur, and Pinky smiled cause Brain looked adorable in his grumbly-stormy way.

“I apologize too, Pinky,” Brain murmured as he pushed the glowstick out of the way and laid his arms across Pinky’s belly. “I can trust you to a certain extent. You just…caught me off-guard when you bent my tail.”

The achy feeling was gone, only leaving a warm pool of butterflies in its place. Pinky hummed in delight and wrapped his arms around Brain. His bestest friend deserved the bestest hugs!

“How so, Brain?” Pinky asked, relaxing his arms when Brain’s shoulders tensed ever so slightly.

“Your expression. You were regretful from the moment you heard the snap. I suppose it was just easier to be furious,” Brain said, his shoulders relaxing. “It’s always simpler.”

“More simple than me, Brain?”

Brain rolled his eyes. “Nothing’s more simple than you, Pinky.”

They sat in comfy silence for a while longer, the darkness no longer bothering them. The glowstick scared all those hungry maze monsters away.

Then Pinky’s tummy tingled and tickled, a loud giggle escaping him. Brain’s fingers lightly dug into Pinky’s tummy, though Brain’s eyes were blissfully closed. He must’ve been tired from all the tossing and turning last night.

Pinky’s tummy growled softly and Brain jolted awake, blinking down at his fingers. He stood up quickly and hid his hands behind his back.

“Ah, I was just pondering,” Brain said hastily. “What transpired in this maze must remain in this maze. Understand?”

Pinky nodded, wagging his finger at Glowstick to keep him quiet too. “Narf! Glowstick and I won’t tell a soul!”

Brain picked up his mini flashlight, then turned and faced Pinky so quickly that he nearly blinded himself with the light beam. “That’s it! Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering?” Excitement laced his voice.

“I think so, Brain. But blackbirds in pies wouldn’t be a popular choice in a bake sale,” Pinky wrinkled his nose as Brain grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

“Fortunately for you, there’s blackberry pie in the fridge. I suppose that’s more suitable for your palate?”

Pinky’s tummy growled even louder, and his mouth watered at the thought of sweet blackberries. “Oh no, Brain. I want to eat the blackberries, not paint with them.”

Brain sighed a long sigh, vaguely reminding Pinky of a leaky tire. “After we’re satiated, I’ll work on a plan that will ensure our successful conquest of the world. I’ll need some time to come up with the exact number of glowsticks we’ll need per capita, so you’ll have to be inane elsewhere for a while.”

Pinky smiled and cheered, and Brain even bopped him with his little flashlight. His bestest friend knew how to make him happy, and happiness was the loveliest feeling of all.

o-o-o-o-o

The glowstick plan failed, and so did all the following plans. While Pinky didn’t mind healing and resting for the next tomorrow night, it didn’t take long before Brain’s tail suffered another bruise after a fancy lady’s high heel stepped on it.

Brain’s nose scrunched up as Pinky gently dribbled a few drops of sanitizer onto the bruise. It wasn’t called not-water like he’d originally thought. He never would’ve known if it hadn’t been for Brain.

Pinky hummed and measured out a bandage, then stopped humming cause he needed to concentrate on Brain’s tail, which needed extra care and gentleness since it didn’t heal as fast as the rest of him.

“You can be swishy later, tail,” Pinky scolded his own tail, which fell back to the cage floor. His tail was getting really good at obeying now.

Pinky wrapped the bandage around the bent and bruised tail, concentrating super hard. Once the bandage was snug like a pug in a mug, Pinky pressed his fingers against his lips and tapped them against the bandage for extra encouragement.

“Thank you, Pinky,” Brain said, the barest hint of a smile on his face.

Pinky smiled back. He loved making Brain happy too.

AN: I like to think this story is set early in Pinky and Brain’s partnership. As a result, Snowball’s departure is still fairly fresh in Brain’s mind.

I am not sorry for butchering the English language. English? I know not of whom you speak.

This story’s a bit more unpolished than I would like, mostly because Pinky’s a tough POV to write, especially if you’re trying to dig deep. I still like the end result though.

#pinky and the brain #patb fanfiction

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kanerboo · 7 years

Text

let me drink from your well

a tiny and quick little contribution for the halloween fest! this was not at all the fic i’d originally intended to write - i didn’t have time to finish that one, but @musainrules asked me for a little ficlet, so here it is :) and i wrote it in like 40 minutes so don’t expect much >.>

jonathan toews/patrick kane; mature; warnings: blood drinking, vampires, mentions of blood

(edit: now on ao3!)

Jonny’s head is spinning as he stumbles down the tunnel after the horn goes. He doesn’t follow the guys into the locker room, but turns into an empty room nearby, a training room where he knows there are benches to sit on and a fridge. The trainers keep the fridges all over the UC well-stocked with his needs, and he needs a drink now if he’s going to get through overtime.

There are black spots dancing in his vision by the time he makes it into the room, nearly tripping over his skates as he goes. It’s getting worse by the second; the vertigo, the nausea, the desperate thirst. And for a moment Jonny thinks he might actually pass out right here, at the door, the fridge just on the other wall and out of reach.

He knows he should have taken more blood before the game started, but he - he’d thought it would be enough. Hadn’t counted on the approximately six million penalty kills and power plays he’d have to be on, with the penalties flying left and right all game. Hadn’t counted on the fucking Ducks being this hard. Hadn’t thought the game would go into OT.

And now he has less than four minutes to go before OT starts, in the Western Conference finals, and he’ll be fucked if he lets this go the way of 2014 again.

He takes a wobbly step forward and just - crumples to his knees. Fuck, the room’s all spinny. He’s not going to - he needs to get to that fridge -

“Jonny?”

Jonny knows who it is right away - he can tell from the scent, the sound of the heartbeat, even if Patrick hadn’t said anything. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to stop the spinning, trying not to think of the sound of Patrick’s heart beating strong and steady, pumping blood through his body. “Hey,” he says feebly.

“Shit - fuck, Jonny, fuck, are you okay?”

There’s a thud as Patrick drops to his knees next to Jonny and the next thing he knows is Patrick cupping his face in his hands; he cracks one eye open to see Patrick staring at him anxiously, He’s biting on his bottom lip as he so often does when he’s nervous - but it’s like Jonny’s entire field of vision narrows in on that, at the sight of Patrick’s teeth sinking into the warm, alive pinkness of his lip, leaving little white indentations. It makes him think of warmth, and blood, and - blood.

“Holy fuck, you’re white as a sheet,” Patrick says, alarm written all over his face. “Have you - oh god, you need to drink, don’t you? You need to drink.” He straightens up, still holding on to Jonny, and looks around the room frantically.

“Fridge,” Jonny manages to croak out.

Patrick springs to his feet and practically runs over to the fridge; he throws the door open with such force Jonny thinks he hears a crack, and then finds himself hoping Patrick didn’t break the fridge because all the blood bags in there would spoil, and wouldn’t that be such a waste.

“Which one?” Patrick’s saying, running a hand distractedly through his curls. “Oh god - you like A+, don’t you? There’s - fuck, yeah - “

Jonny wants to laugh despite himself. At this point he’ll take fucking B- if he has to; trust Patrick to want to give him what he likes best.

Patrick comes back with his arms full of at least six bags of blood. It makes Jonny’s eyes cross just to look at them, and without really thinking about it his fangs drop, sliding smooth and sharp down over his lower lip. Fuck. He’s really fucking thirsty.

Patrick drops the bags in front of him and picks one up, tearing the attached straw off and jabbing it into the bag. “Shit, we didn’t warm it up. Can you - do you want me to warm this?”

“Fuck no,” Jonny says. They don’t have time for that shit. He needs to drink now, before they have to go back out for OT.

“Yeah, okay,” Pat says, and gives him the bag.

The first drink going down is freezing cold; but Jonny drinks without stopping, barely even taking a breath, until the bag is drained. He reaches out blindly and Patrick puts another bag in his hand.

“Slow, Jonny,” he says quietly, and lets his fingers linger on Jonny’s hand when he passes the bag over.

It takes three bags before Jonny even feels remotely human (heh, as if he’s even human), but when he finally tosses the bag aside and looks up at Patrick, Pat’s still kneeling in front of him, chewing at his lip, looking worried. Jonny rubs a fist over his mouth; it comes away red, and he licks at the residual blood on it hungrily.

“Better?” Patrick asks, his blue eyes fixed on Jonny’s mouth. Jonny frowns, runs his tongue around his lips and fangs in case there’s drops of blood, and for some reason Patrick’s heartbeat speeds right up. When he finally glances up from Jonny’s mouth, his pupils are dilated.

Okay, that’s interesting. Or maybe not so, considering the way they’ve both danced around each other for years.

Jonny knows - has always known - that the fact that he’s a vampire seems to hold some kind of strange fascination for Patrick. The other guys tend to avoid him when he’s thirsty enough to be in a bad mood, or when his fangs are out - Patrick never does. As rookies, Patrick was the only one who’d room with him, and that rooming arrangement worked out well enough that they’ve stuck with it long term. And even now, when there are more vampires in the league, and there are a couple other vampires besides Jonny on the Blackhawks - it seems Patrick’s fascination with him has never really died down.

Or at least, Jonny’s never seen Patrick’s pupils dilate when Forsling or Schmaltz are drinking around him.

And he knows - has always known, too - that Patrick’s weirdly attracted to him specifically; and it’s not as if that attraction isn’t reciprocated, Sharpy’s stupid comments about their “sexual tension” or whatever make it clear enough. He’s just - never done anything about it. Hasn’t dared to. Fuck, he’s a vampire, and no matter how captivated Patrick is by him, the fact remains that Patrick’s still a fragile, breakable human, with thin skin and delicate bones and a perfect tracery of beautiful blue-purple veins across his wrists and the pulse of his neck and -

Shit, shit, he really needs to stop this train of thought.

Patrick clears his throat. “Is that - was that enough?” he asks, casting his eyes down at the emptied bags scattered around them.

Jonny shrugs. Bagged blood’s never enough, never fills him or satisfies him the way fresh blood does, but it works. “It’ll have to be,” he says. “I feel better already anyway. Pat - thanks.”

Patrick’s eyes are still downcast, and not for the first time, Jonny notices the spidery shadows they cast on Patrick’s pale cheeks. So fucking pretty.

“How long’s it been since you had fresh blood?” Patrick blurts out.

“I - what?” Jonny says, thrown by the question.

“How long?” Patrick says insistently. “And don’t lie to me - I know about vampires, I know you guys can’t survive forever on bagged blood, you need fresh sometimes - “

“I - I don’t know,” Jonny says helplessly. “A year? I guess? I don’t remember.”

“Jesus,” Patrick says, exhaling. “Jonny, you are a fucking idiot.”

“I don’t need it all the time,” Jonny says. And it’s true, he really doesn’t, and if he gets used to the taste and feel of fresh blood, he’s going to - he already thinks of Patrick every time he finds someone willing to be fucked and drunk from, he needs to stop associating Patrick with blood and sex, because he can’t see this going well for either of them.

Patrick glares at him, and then to Jonny’s shock he yanks his jersey over his head until he’s in just his pads and underarmour. He rolls up the sleeve of his underarmour and practically shoves his arm in Jonny’s face.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jonny says.

“Drink,” Patrick snaps, and then he - oh fuck, fuck - presses his wrist against one of Jonny’s fangs.

This close, Jonny can smell the blood pumping under the skin; can smell the heady scent of it, of Patrick’s warmth and vitality, can feel the steady beats of his pulse. He tears his head away. “No - Patrick, no.”

Patrick pushes his wrist forward; Jonny tips himself back and Patrick inches forward, following him, until he’s straddled in Jonny’s lap. It’s all - it’s too fucking much, Patrick in his lap, his wrist against his mouth. “You just need a little. I know it. Jonny, fuck, we need you out there. I need you. I need you to do it with me. I can’t do it all alone.”

“Pat, I - do you even know what you’re saying?” Jonny whispers. The scent of Patrick’s blood is thick in his nose, and he’s just emptied three blood bags but he’s suddenly ravenous again. His stomach cramps, as if it’s rejecting the cold, stale bagged blood in favour of knowing there’s a fresh blood supply so close.

“I know, okay, I’m not stupid. Just do it, Jonny.”

“I can’t,” Jonny says, even as his hands come up of their own volition to grasp Patrick’s arm. He noses along the inside of Patrick’s wrist involuntarily, and Patrick’s scent hits him like a brick. “I can’t. Patrick - I can’t hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Patrick says, and he sounds so confident, so certain; even his heartbeat is steady, no uptick in its pace, no lie or fear at all. Jonny wonders how he can be so sure - how he can offer himself so easily and freely up to Jonny like this without a single iota of dread.

“How’d you know?” Jonny whispers.

“Because I trust you,” Patrick says. “I know you won’t hurt me. Fucking drink now or we won’t have time.”

“Oh my god,” Jonny says. His fangs slide over the soft sweaty skin of Patrick’s wrist; and there’s still no change in Patrick’s heartbeat, none at all. He’s not scared of Jonny.

“I - okay,” Jonny says. “I’ll - Patrick, breathe deep.”

Patrick inhales sharply when Jonny finally sinks his fangs in; his body jolts in Jonny’s lap and Jonny twines an arm around his waist to hold him steady. The first spurt of Patrick’s blood on his tongue is like - he can’t even begin to describe it. It’s thick and rich and hot and dark and sweet. He sucks once, greedily, pulling the blood into his mouth like sweet syrupy nectar, and Patrick whimpers. But there’s no sign of pain in his body or his voice, and Jonny dares to take one more swallow, two more, another one, trying to keep himself under control, ignoring the overwhelming urge to push Patrick down, get his fangs into his neck, maybe his fingers inside Patrick’s ass at the same time, and just take. Take what Patrick’s so willing to give.

“Ohhh - fuck, Jonny,” Patrick says, pushing himself closer to Jonny, and it’s only then that Jonny registers that Patrick’s hard. He’s hard - they both are - and Patrick’s grinding his dick against Jonny’s stomach.

Jonny tears his mouth away from Patrick’s wrist. Five swallows - that’s all he dares to take without weakening Patrick. Already the blood’s doing its work, suffusing him with warmth from his throat to his belly, rushing through his limbs; Jonny knows that if he looks at himself in a mirror right now, he’d be flushed pink. And Patrick - he looks amazing. He’s pink from arousal, lips red and wet, eyes large and dark and hazy as he stares at Jonny.

There’s a corner of Jonny’s mind that’s just grateful he didn’t go overboard and take too much from Patrick.

“Do you feel okay?” he asks, grasping Patrick’s face in his hands. Patrick’s still warm, no sign of coldness or clamminess whatsoever.

“Do I - oh my god,” Patrick says breathlessly, starting to laugh. “I feel okay. So okay.”

He runs his thumb over Jonny’s mouth, down over a fang, and Jonny jumps a little - there’s never been a human who’d willingly touch his fangs, even if they were willing to be fed on while Jonny fucked them; and here’s Patrick boldly reaching out, rubbing his thumb tip over one, and then he pushes it between Jonny’s lips so Jonny can suck the traces of blood from it.

“Wait,” Jonny says, ”let me - “ and he takes Patrick’s arm to lick up the rivulets of blood leaking from the puncture marks on his wrist, licks over the wounds themselves until he can feel them closing up under his tongue, as Patrick shudders wordlessly against him. He’s as hard as a rock still.

“Patrick,” Jonny says gently. He strokes his hand down Patrick’s spine and lets it rest right where his ass curves out. “We need to talk about this later.”

Patrick looks at him, lips parted. “Yeah,” he says breathlessly. “But we have a game to win first.”

Jonny nods in agreement; and then he leans close, rests his forehead against Patrick. “Pat - thanks. For trusting me. For - all of this.”

“I’ve always trusted you, Jonny,” Patrick says. “You just didn’t trust yourself enough, when I’ve always been here and - willing.”

“Yeah,” Jonny whispers; he tips his head, just a little, and kisses Patrick for the first time, thinking of all the times he’s wanted to do this and never dared to - and Patrick kisses right back, no fear whatsoever, his heartbeat steady in Jonny’s ears.

#my fic #hockey rpf #fic #1988 halloween fest #happy halloween!#let me drink from your well

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