(no subject)
FANDOM: Fright Night
TITLE: First Light
SUMMARY: Charley Brewster/Peter Vincent. Takes place after Charley shows up at Peter's place 2/3 of the way through the film, trying to get him to go after Jerry. "Peter's got a funny sinking feeling in his stomach that he's not going to let Charley Brewster walk out that door tonight."
WORDS: 1734
RATING: R
"If he's on fire, how do I get close enough to stake him?"
Peter thinks it over for a moment. "Fuck." Fuck this because it's a stupid idea, and fuck this because it's his idea and he's got a funny sinking feeling in his stomach that he's not going to let Charley Brewster walk out that door tonight.
"Yeah." Charley nods a little, and starts to turn, getting ready to leave again. Peter steps forward.
"Don't…"
Charley pauses in the doorway and turns to look back at Peter. "Don't what?"
"You don't have to go."
"You want me to stay?" Charley asks, confused. Peter looks at the floor, then up at Charley.
"You're going to need a hell of a lot of help before you're ready to face the big, bad… Jerry."
"And you… want to help?"
"I don't see anyone else volunteering." Yup, there Peter goes. Getting himself into something way out of his element, yet again.
"Okay," Charley agrees, a pleased smile playing on his face. Peter's change of heart has impressed him visibly. He lets his bag drop to the ground.
"Stop grinning like an idiot. This isn't a slumber party," he says, mocking Charley, if only because it gives him something else to focus on. "You'll need a list of supplies."
"I have a --" Charley starts to pull out the list of vampire-hunting weaponry that he found in Ed's room from his pocket.
"But first, I need a drink."
Peter makes his way over to the bar. Charley hovers by the doorway. Peter motions him over, and Charley follows him.
Peter pours a glass of Midori for himself and offers some to Charley. He declines, but Peter pours him some anyway and slides the glass over to him.
"I won't tell," Peter says, taking a sip. Charley dubiously does the same.
"That's disgusting," Charley says, sputtering and frowning. "How can you drink that stuff?" Peter laughs, smiling a real, genuine smile at Charley. It's so genuine it almost feels unbelievable. It's been a while since he's been this… chipper in someone else's company. Peter steals the glass and downs the rest of it.
He starts searching for anything else that might be more acceptable to Charley's tastes, but the prospects look bleak. "Picky little brat."
*
Hours later, Peter and Charley are sprawled across the floor. There are papers everywhere - Charley's pictures and research, as well as some of Peter's own. They've got maps and diagrams and notes spread between them.
Dawn is approaching, tiny bits of sunlight starting to creep up over the horizon, edging their way into view. Charley yawns and rubs at his eyes. "I guess it's later than I thought," he comments.
"Early," Peter corrects him. An empty bottle of Midori sits next to him on the floor.
"I guess I should be headed home, huh? Get some sleep while I can," Charley ventures, getting on his knees to collect his things. He blearily gathers up his belongings.
"You could stay," Peter says, low and gruff. Charley looks up, caught unaware. He grins.
"Oh, could I?" Charley responds, an hint of snark in his voice.
Peter stares at him, and there's something about his dark-rimmed eyes that sets Charley just a little on edge when he looks at him like that.
Peter rubs a hand over his face, then slinks forward, mirroring Charley's position on the floor. He reaches his hand out, and it shakes a little nervously. He brings it to rest on Charley's jaw. Peter pulls Charley's face forward ever so slightly and leans his own head forward, and hazy and creeping as the sunrise, he captures Charley's lips with his own.
Charley's hands dart forward and wind themselves in Peter's shirt. Peter brings his other hand up, trapping Charley's face between his palms. The kiss is open-mouthed and slow, and not at all what Charley would expect from Peter Vincent, but there's an insistency to it that tugs at his skin.
Peter ungracefully slides backwards, his ass landing hard on the floor, his back pressed against a black armchair. He drags Charley with him, and Charley falls on top of him grinning, straddling Peter and kissing him again with a youthful greed.
Peter starts to move his hands up and down Charley's sides, and they find a spot to hover right above Charley's ass, almost touching but not quite. Charley makes a cheerful little noise into Peter's mouth, and fuck, if that isn't endearing.
What's even more endearing is when Charley starts to grind his hips against Peter's, and he can't tell if it's on purpose or if he's just getting carried away.
"You're ravenous, aren't you," Peter murmurs into Charley's mouth, and Charley pulls away, disentangling himself from Peter. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Sorry. I didn't mean --"
Cute. Peter catches his hand. "Relax. That's a good thing, sweetheart," Peter says, flashing a dazzling smile at Charley. Charley starts to blush (really, if this kid gets any cuter, it will start to cause Peter pain inside) and scoots back a little closer to Peter. Peter wraps an arm around Charley's shoulder and pulls him against his side, leaning down to steal a quick peck before settling back and staring outside the large window at the slowly rising sun.
Charley settles his head against Peter's shoulder. "Thanks," he says quietly. Peter just squeezes him a little tighter while they look out at the dawn together.
"This is so cool," Charley says breathlessly at the vista, lifting his head when the sun starts to rise over the skyline. It is an impressive presentation. He looks up at Peter knowingly. "I bet a lot of girls get to enjoy this view, huh?"
Peter swallows. "No, not really. Less than you'd think, anyway."
Something about this must have appeased Charley, because he drops his head back onto Peter's shoulder.
"I'm going to be so tired tomorrow," Charley says, yawning. "I've still got school." Peter brings a hand up and runs his fingers through Charley's curly hair, and it's odd and cozy. It's kind of nice.
"You could skip," Peter suggests.
"You're such a bad influence on me," Charley smiles, moving to look into Peter's eyes. Peter grimaces, invisible guilt roiling up inside him.
"Don't say that," he says.
"Maybe it's a good thing." Charley licks his lips and leans forward tentatively, initiating another brief kiss. "Sweetheart," he adds, mimicking Peter's accent and snickering.
Peter growls and tackles him enthusiastically. Charley laughs, breathless, when Peter lands on top of him, knocking the air from his lungs. "You'll pay for that," Peter threatens, smothering Charley's face with tiny pecks of kisses. Charley closes his eyes and scrunches up his face.
"Get off," Charley snorts, pushing at Peter's chest. Peter goes limp on top of him, letting his dead weight keep Charley pressed to the floor.
"Actually, I think I'm ready for bed." Peter feigns falling asleep, complete with snores. Charley pokes him in the cheek and gives up on struggling. He slides an arm around Peter's waist, his thumb brushing against bare skin where Peter's shirt has ridden up. They shiver simultaneously. Bravely, Charley moves his palm flat against the skin and keeps it there.
"Mm," Peter murmurs, quite lively for a sleeping man. Charley angles his head up and presses a deep kiss against Peter's slack mouth. "Are you trying to wake me?"
"That was the point, yeah."
Eyes still closed, Peter nuzzles against Charley's neck. "Not working."
"I'll keep trying," Charley says determinedly, and he slides the hand at the small of Peter's back down to his ass and squeezes. Peter yelps and his eyes fly open.
"You're not playing fair," he accuses and Charley smiles innocently.
"So even the odds," Charley says sweetly, and Peter does. He rolls over onto his back, pulling Charley on top of him once again. "This is your way of evening the odds?"
Peter smirks and starts trailing a hand up Charley's thigh. "No. This is." Charley's eyes widen as Peter's fingers creep higher, but he holds still. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Peter murmurs against Charley's ear.
"Trust me, I want to," Charley says, and in one swift unexpectedly eager motion, he pushes Peter away and he pulls his flannel off and his shirt over his head. Peter stares a little bit too hungrily at the sight before him.
"Fuck," Peter breathes, and tears his own shirt off so quickly that one of his arms gets stuck in the sleeve. Charley helps him out of it before pressing up against him to give him another kiss, practically climbing into his lap.
Charley is warm, so warm, and Peter lets himself touch him, really touch him, running his hands across the plane of his back as he works his tongue into Charley's mouth. Charley has an inescapable natural heat that sends warmth running up and down Peter's nerves. His skin is hot to the touch where he presses up against Peter, which right now, is in most places. He's perched halfway on top of Peter, arms wrapped around his neck. Charley is kissing Peter with an unequivocal need, mouth open and wanting, and it's dead sexy. Peter pulls him closer.
"You make me feel like a horny teenager," Peter says with a glint in his eye. Charley pulls back and grins.
"I am a horny teenager," he retorts. Peter smiles at him with an adoring sort of look and draws Charley's face closer and kisses him, opening up his mouth with his tongue. After a moment, Charley starts to yawn into the kiss.
"Sorry," he mutters, embarrassed. Peter, in a sudden burst of affection, scuffs the top of his head with his hand.
"Go to sleep," Peter tells him. "We've got all the time in the world. That is, unless you go and get yourself killed by a vampire." He ignores the reality of that very serious possibility, trying to sound as playful as possible.
Charley settles himself so that he's laying on the floor, head in Peter's lap. The sun is still coming up outside the window, beginning to illuminate the room and the city below.
Charley snickers. "Yeah. I'll try not to."
Peter rubs at his eyes and tugs Charley a little closer, sliding his hand into Charley's curls and letting it rest there against his head. Charley presses his cheek against Peter's thigh and Peter tightens his fingers in Charley's hair, just a little bit possessively.
By the time Peter leans his head back against the chair behind him and closes his eyes, the sun is in the sky and Charley is fast asleep.
TITLE: First Light
SUMMARY: Charley Brewster/Peter Vincent. Takes place after Charley shows up at Peter's place 2/3 of the way through the film, trying to get him to go after Jerry. "Peter's got a funny sinking feeling in his stomach that he's not going to let Charley Brewster walk out that door tonight."
WORDS: 1734
RATING: R
"If he's on fire, how do I get close enough to stake him?"
Peter thinks it over for a moment. "Fuck." Fuck this because it's a stupid idea, and fuck this because it's his idea and he's got a funny sinking feeling in his stomach that he's not going to let Charley Brewster walk out that door tonight.
"Yeah." Charley nods a little, and starts to turn, getting ready to leave again. Peter steps forward.
"Don't…"
Charley pauses in the doorway and turns to look back at Peter. "Don't what?"
"You don't have to go."
"You want me to stay?" Charley asks, confused. Peter looks at the floor, then up at Charley.
"You're going to need a hell of a lot of help before you're ready to face the big, bad… Jerry."
"And you… want to help?"
"I don't see anyone else volunteering." Yup, there Peter goes. Getting himself into something way out of his element, yet again.
"Okay," Charley agrees, a pleased smile playing on his face. Peter's change of heart has impressed him visibly. He lets his bag drop to the ground.
"Stop grinning like an idiot. This isn't a slumber party," he says, mocking Charley, if only because it gives him something else to focus on. "You'll need a list of supplies."
"I have a --" Charley starts to pull out the list of vampire-hunting weaponry that he found in Ed's room from his pocket.
"But first, I need a drink."
Peter makes his way over to the bar. Charley hovers by the doorway. Peter motions him over, and Charley follows him.
Peter pours a glass of Midori for himself and offers some to Charley. He declines, but Peter pours him some anyway and slides the glass over to him.
"I won't tell," Peter says, taking a sip. Charley dubiously does the same.
"That's disgusting," Charley says, sputtering and frowning. "How can you drink that stuff?" Peter laughs, smiling a real, genuine smile at Charley. It's so genuine it almost feels unbelievable. It's been a while since he's been this… chipper in someone else's company. Peter steals the glass and downs the rest of it.
He starts searching for anything else that might be more acceptable to Charley's tastes, but the prospects look bleak. "Picky little brat."
*
Hours later, Peter and Charley are sprawled across the floor. There are papers everywhere - Charley's pictures and research, as well as some of Peter's own. They've got maps and diagrams and notes spread between them.
Dawn is approaching, tiny bits of sunlight starting to creep up over the horizon, edging their way into view. Charley yawns and rubs at his eyes. "I guess it's later than I thought," he comments.
"Early," Peter corrects him. An empty bottle of Midori sits next to him on the floor.
"I guess I should be headed home, huh? Get some sleep while I can," Charley ventures, getting on his knees to collect his things. He blearily gathers up his belongings.
"You could stay," Peter says, low and gruff. Charley looks up, caught unaware. He grins.
"Oh, could I?" Charley responds, an hint of snark in his voice.
Peter stares at him, and there's something about his dark-rimmed eyes that sets Charley just a little on edge when he looks at him like that.
Peter rubs a hand over his face, then slinks forward, mirroring Charley's position on the floor. He reaches his hand out, and it shakes a little nervously. He brings it to rest on Charley's jaw. Peter pulls Charley's face forward ever so slightly and leans his own head forward, and hazy and creeping as the sunrise, he captures Charley's lips with his own.
Charley's hands dart forward and wind themselves in Peter's shirt. Peter brings his other hand up, trapping Charley's face between his palms. The kiss is open-mouthed and slow, and not at all what Charley would expect from Peter Vincent, but there's an insistency to it that tugs at his skin.
Peter ungracefully slides backwards, his ass landing hard on the floor, his back pressed against a black armchair. He drags Charley with him, and Charley falls on top of him grinning, straddling Peter and kissing him again with a youthful greed.
Peter starts to move his hands up and down Charley's sides, and they find a spot to hover right above Charley's ass, almost touching but not quite. Charley makes a cheerful little noise into Peter's mouth, and fuck, if that isn't endearing.
What's even more endearing is when Charley starts to grind his hips against Peter's, and he can't tell if it's on purpose or if he's just getting carried away.
"You're ravenous, aren't you," Peter murmurs into Charley's mouth, and Charley pulls away, disentangling himself from Peter. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Sorry. I didn't mean --"
Cute. Peter catches his hand. "Relax. That's a good thing, sweetheart," Peter says, flashing a dazzling smile at Charley. Charley starts to blush (really, if this kid gets any cuter, it will start to cause Peter pain inside) and scoots back a little closer to Peter. Peter wraps an arm around Charley's shoulder and pulls him against his side, leaning down to steal a quick peck before settling back and staring outside the large window at the slowly rising sun.
Charley settles his head against Peter's shoulder. "Thanks," he says quietly. Peter just squeezes him a little tighter while they look out at the dawn together.
"This is so cool," Charley says breathlessly at the vista, lifting his head when the sun starts to rise over the skyline. It is an impressive presentation. He looks up at Peter knowingly. "I bet a lot of girls get to enjoy this view, huh?"
Peter swallows. "No, not really. Less than you'd think, anyway."
Something about this must have appeased Charley, because he drops his head back onto Peter's shoulder.
"I'm going to be so tired tomorrow," Charley says, yawning. "I've still got school." Peter brings a hand up and runs his fingers through Charley's curly hair, and it's odd and cozy. It's kind of nice.
"You could skip," Peter suggests.
"You're such a bad influence on me," Charley smiles, moving to look into Peter's eyes. Peter grimaces, invisible guilt roiling up inside him.
"Don't say that," he says.
"Maybe it's a good thing." Charley licks his lips and leans forward tentatively, initiating another brief kiss. "Sweetheart," he adds, mimicking Peter's accent and snickering.
Peter growls and tackles him enthusiastically. Charley laughs, breathless, when Peter lands on top of him, knocking the air from his lungs. "You'll pay for that," Peter threatens, smothering Charley's face with tiny pecks of kisses. Charley closes his eyes and scrunches up his face.
"Get off," Charley snorts, pushing at Peter's chest. Peter goes limp on top of him, letting his dead weight keep Charley pressed to the floor.
"Actually, I think I'm ready for bed." Peter feigns falling asleep, complete with snores. Charley pokes him in the cheek and gives up on struggling. He slides an arm around Peter's waist, his thumb brushing against bare skin where Peter's shirt has ridden up. They shiver simultaneously. Bravely, Charley moves his palm flat against the skin and keeps it there.
"Mm," Peter murmurs, quite lively for a sleeping man. Charley angles his head up and presses a deep kiss against Peter's slack mouth. "Are you trying to wake me?"
"That was the point, yeah."
Eyes still closed, Peter nuzzles against Charley's neck. "Not working."
"I'll keep trying," Charley says determinedly, and he slides the hand at the small of Peter's back down to his ass and squeezes. Peter yelps and his eyes fly open.
"You're not playing fair," he accuses and Charley smiles innocently.
"So even the odds," Charley says sweetly, and Peter does. He rolls over onto his back, pulling Charley on top of him once again. "This is your way of evening the odds?"
Peter smirks and starts trailing a hand up Charley's thigh. "No. This is." Charley's eyes widen as Peter's fingers creep higher, but he holds still. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Peter murmurs against Charley's ear.
"Trust me, I want to," Charley says, and in one swift unexpectedly eager motion, he pushes Peter away and he pulls his flannel off and his shirt over his head. Peter stares a little bit too hungrily at the sight before him.
"Fuck," Peter breathes, and tears his own shirt off so quickly that one of his arms gets stuck in the sleeve. Charley helps him out of it before pressing up against him to give him another kiss, practically climbing into his lap.
Charley is warm, so warm, and Peter lets himself touch him, really touch him, running his hands across the plane of his back as he works his tongue into Charley's mouth. Charley has an inescapable natural heat that sends warmth running up and down Peter's nerves. His skin is hot to the touch where he presses up against Peter, which right now, is in most places. He's perched halfway on top of Peter, arms wrapped around his neck. Charley is kissing Peter with an unequivocal need, mouth open and wanting, and it's dead sexy. Peter pulls him closer.
"You make me feel like a horny teenager," Peter says with a glint in his eye. Charley pulls back and grins.
"I am a horny teenager," he retorts. Peter smiles at him with an adoring sort of look and draws Charley's face closer and kisses him, opening up his mouth with his tongue. After a moment, Charley starts to yawn into the kiss.
"Sorry," he mutters, embarrassed. Peter, in a sudden burst of affection, scuffs the top of his head with his hand.
"Go to sleep," Peter tells him. "We've got all the time in the world. That is, unless you go and get yourself killed by a vampire." He ignores the reality of that very serious possibility, trying to sound as playful as possible.
Charley settles himself so that he's laying on the floor, head in Peter's lap. The sun is still coming up outside the window, beginning to illuminate the room and the city below.
Charley snickers. "Yeah. I'll try not to."
Peter rubs at his eyes and tugs Charley a little closer, sliding his hand into Charley's curls and letting it rest there against his head. Charley presses his cheek against Peter's thigh and Peter tightens his fingers in Charley's hair, just a little bit possessively.
By the time Peter leans his head back against the chair behind him and closes his eyes, the sun is in the sky and Charley is fast asleep.