Anger's a Lesser Disaster (Ch. 3)
Title: Anger's a Lesser Disaster
Author: trylohbyte
Rating: R Overall
Pairing: Vampire!Jon/Brendon, Vampire!Tom/Greta
Summary: Jon's found one of his long lost friends, Tom Conrad. But that son-of-a-gun, he's not the same as he used to be. He's turned over to the dark side, giving up human's blood for good. And for what? A pretty blonde? Oh, wait, that's his wife? And she's pregnant? Jon doesn't know what to make of any of it, but the mortal does help him out a little bit. He'll give her credit for that.
Dislcaimer: Obviously fictional. I hate to burst the Twilight generation's bubble, but vampires do not actually exist. Title belongs to Empires.
A/N: I am seriously all over the place. I've got two Jon/Spencer's in the works, a fair amount of Jon/Brendon's and one Ryan/Brendon. I don't know if I'll ever finish any of them, but let's hope. At least it only took two months this time and not three. x__x
Previous Chapters: P | 1 | 2
Tom glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes going soft as he smiled at the female behind him. “Greta, honey, go back to bed,” he said.
“But. Is everything okay?” she asked.
Jon knew she meant “I'm not going to die, right? Right?”.
“You'll be fine, babe,” Tom promised. “You need to rest up.” He glanced down to the stomach her hands were cradling. “I won't let anything happen to you.”
With one last nervous glance towards Jon, she scurried up the stairs and slammed what Jon assumed was her bedroom door shut.
There was an awkward pause as Jon and Tom exchanged silent eye contact.
Then, “Babe?” Jon laughed.
“Shut up,” Tom grumbled. “Come the fuck on, man. I'll tell you all about it in the living room.”
The living room was actually quite cozy. In a warm, sunny colored, designed-by-your-human-lover kind of way. It was all vintage furniture, Tom had said. Something about how Greta really wanted a legit old-timey room and he had connections with some furniture vendor that had been around since the 1700s.
“You remember Pat? That guy, he's got shit from every century you'd want to style your home after,” Tom explained.
“Home,” Jon said. “That's an interesting word for a vampire.”
“You really should think about settling down. It's actually pretty nice, just chilling out with someone you can see yourself spending the rest of your life with.”
“The human? Really?” Jon scoffed.
“It's not funny,” Tom growled. “I love her, okay? I don't know how it happened, it just did.”
“What happens when she dies?” Jon pointed out. “And you have to spend the rest of eternity without her?”
“Don't even bring that up,” Tom sighed. “I don't like to think about it.”
“You're really serious about this, though?” Jon asked. “You know every seeker's going to be after you, even if you're on their side.”
“Yeah, yeah. I try to stay in the shadows.”
“You should turn her.”
Suddenly, Tom is up and in Jon's face, teeth bared and vicious. “Don't say that. That is not an option.”
“Calm down,” Jon laughed. He knew Tom could never - would never - hurt him. “Whatever you want. If you have a fetish for humans, so be it, I won't judge you for it.”
Tom relaxed, his face going slack and his shoulders loosening. “Sorry,” he apologized as he sat back down across from Jon. “It's just. I can't even imagine doing that to her. You remember how badly it-”
“Yeah,” Jon interrupted. He didn't like to think about it, much less talk about. Three-hundred-odd years ago when he first got turned into what he was now and he can still remember all the pain. How thirsty he had been those first few years, like it would never go away. And it never really did. “I know.”
“I just don't want her to suffer.”
Jon looked down to where his hands were clasped on his lap, his thumbs twiddling around each other, switching directions every now and then. He looked back up and noticed that Tom had been watching him with a skeptical gaze.
Tom had always had this unofficial power to read minds. Whatever you were thinking, he could recite it back to you, though he always insisted he could never actually hear anyone's thoughts. He pressed that it was just the look on their face - their body language. It revealed a lot about what a person was feeling, he would always say, and that after years of practice, he's got the reading of it down to a science.
“What?” Jon asked.
“You met someone.” Tom stated knowingly.
Jon is quiet, still stunned after all the years by the ability that Tom possessed. Then, he said, “It's actually really complicated and I don't want to talk about it right now.”
“Who is she?” Tom pressed. “Where does she live and how did you meet her? Why didn't you kill her, I thought you were still doing that kind of thing, Jon. When did you-”
“Okay, first of all, he's a dude.”
Tom looked confused for a minute before realization lit up his eyes and his grin broke out further. “All these years and I never knew you were-”
“I was going to kill him but. But I just couldn't,” Jon relived. “For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to.”
“I know that feeling,” Tom sympathized, glancing at the staircase. “So what are you going to do about it?”
“I really don't know.”
“You could always-” Tom started with a smirk.
“Not happening.”
“Not until I do it to Greta, right?”
“Right. Let me know and we'll have an initiation for both of them.”
“Not in either of their lifetimes.”
Jon sighed and leaned back on the sofa he was seated in. He looked up to the painted ceiling and let his eyes run over the soft, sunny color.
“Maybe this is some sort of sign,” Tom said. “I mean, I met Greta the same way you met your guy and look at us now.”
“Married and expecting?” Jon nearly choked on his laughter. “Because that's really what I want. To be tied down to a human for the rest of their life.”
“I didn't think I wanted it either.”
Jon stayed quiet after that, choosing to observe the décor of the room.
“Think about it. I've got a pregnant, scared-shitless wife to tend to.” And then Tom was gone, faster than Jon could blink. Up the stairs and Jon could hear their soft mumbling to each other and maybe a little bit of crying on the female's end. Tom didn't come down again for the rest of the night.
“Mmm, someone's cooking for me?” Jon heard. “That never- oh.”
Jon glanced back at Greta who's fear had returned. He watched as she took a small step back and her hands instinctively fell down to cradle her stomach. “You're, um. Still here,” she squeaked.
Jon had made himself quite at home. For having only one person who actually ate in the house, there was quite a plethora of food. He'd decided, as an apology for startling her, that he would prepare some bacon and eggs for Greta. Tom had already woken up and left the house, pausing to make some offhand and hypocritical comment about Jon going soft on him before exiting through the front door.
Jon smiled and announced as brightly as he could, “I made breakfast!”
“I thought you didn't eat,” Greta said slowly, not moving from her post in the doorway.
“Well, I don't,” Jon admitted. “But you do. And you're pregnant. So you're eating for two. And I just thought. Um. Good morning?” All while talking, he scraped some of the scrambled eggs onto the plate he'd set up for her. Two strips of bacon were already in place, and a bottle of ketchup was there if she so desired it. After he served the meal, he stepped back to the farthest corner of the room and held one hand out as an invitation to eat. “I'm not going to hurt you. Tom's my friend and you're his wife, so.”
Greta kept her eyes on Jon's still form as she slowly made her way forward to the dining table. She sat down and finally allowed herself to look away. “Thank you,” she said.
“You're welcome.”
He watched as she cautiously took the first bite. Seeing that it wasn't poisoned, she started to dig in more, and pretty soon, her plate was clean and she was holding it out, asking for more.
“You warm up to vampires easily, don't you?” Jon chuckled.
She seemed to tense at the word, but then she forced herself to relax and replied, “I live with one. What can I say?”
Jon served her more food, keeping a safe distance so as not to scare her. He set the pan of eggs back on the stove and moved over to sit across from the petite blond. “I have a question.”
Greta started at the sound of his voice, still not one hundred percent okay with another vampire being in her home. “Go ahead,” she allowed.
“How do you woo a human?”
She glanced up from her plate incredulously, cheeks slightly puffed out from the food they contained. After she swallowed, she said, “I'm not going to help you do your hunting, if that's what you want from me.”
“Not at all,” Jon gasped. “I'd doubt if I'd need your help for that.” Greta turned slightly green and Jon quickly changed the subject, “It's just that. I've met someone and I. It's hard to explain to a human, but I'm thinking since-”
“You met a human you can't seem to kill and you have no idea how to handle it so you're asking someone who's been there and done that for advice.”
“You and Tom are the same person,” Jon laughed out loud, noting how they both seemed to read his mind at the most convenient times.
“I know the face of a vampire who's been hit with the arrow.”
Jon smiled at her, careful to keep his lips closed to conceal his tell-tale fangs.
“You just need to... not scare the shit out of them,” Greta advised. “Like, don't show up at their door step at ass o'clock in the morning, looking all pale and. Vampire-ish.”
“As if I can help my appearance.”
“And don't climb their walls and look in their windows.”
“Too late.”
“Yeah, I figured. That's how I met Tom,” Greta giggled. “You should apologize for scaring the shit out of them.”
“That'll be awkward.”
“Just do it.”
Jon thought Greta was crazy when she suggested it. He thought she was utterly insane. There was no way he would go apologize to that guy he saw, no way in hell. It would be the last thing he did before he died, which is saying something, because he's. Well, he's never going to die. Which would mean apologies would never happen.
But later that same day, he found himself at the front door of the guy's house. He knew he was home. He could smell his sweet aroma and he was stuck somewhere between crashing through the door and running away from the house. He didn't have to breathe to live, but he had to make sure there were no seekers around. Scent was the only way. So he kept himself susceptible to the smell.
Reluctantly, he knocked on the front door to the house and waited for an answer. It took a minute, but soon a different brunette was swinging the door open, asking who he was and what he wanted.
“Um. Hi,” Jon said stiffly. “My name is Jon Walker and I was here the other night, but it wasn't you that I met...”
The person who'd opened the door arched one eyebrow as if he didn't trust Jon. Which was a perfectly valid reaction. But he didn't slam the door shut in Jon's face and he didn't call the cops or anything. He simply turned his head to look over his shoulder and called, “Brendon!”
Jon could smell him before he could see him. It took endless amounts of effort to keep himself firmly planted where he was instead of running in either direction. His hands clutched his thighs tightly so they wouldn't fly up to his nose. His brows furrowed in concentration.
When he finally got to the door, Jon knew he was a little bit shocked. He could feel it coming off him in waves. Brendon turned to his roommate and said, “Ryan, I've got this covered.”
Ryan nodded and disappeared back into the house. Brendon, after making sure he was gone, met Jon's eyes with a glare and stated, “You're the guy from last night.”
“Yeah, actually, that's why I'm here,” Jon choked.
“You have thirty seconds to explain yourself before I get Ryan to call the police on your ass.”
“I was a little lost and intoxicated last night,” Jon fibbed “And I just found myself stumbling around. I guess your home is where I landed.”
“That doesn't explain why you were watching me through my window,” Brendon prompted. “My second story window.”
“I think you may have imagined that part.”
“I did not.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Well, I'm sure I wasn't scaling your wall, so we've reached an impasse. And while we're in this state of deadlock, I might as well introduce myself,” Jon decided. “My name is Jonathan Walker.”
“Brendon Urie. It's, uh.” Brendon paused to find the right phrase, then continued, “Meeting you some other way would have been nicer.”
“I'm sorry we had to meet like this.”
“Yeah, me too.”
It took Jon a minute to realize that Brendon was not just looking at him. He was observing him. Like some sort of painting or photograph. He could feel Brendon's eyes burning into his cold, cold skin. And he found that he actually didn't mind the feeling.
“Did you want to come in?” Brendon invited suddenly. “Meet my roommate, maybe tell him about what happened.”
“I don't know if that's a good idea,” Jon declined.
“It's only fair. You did trespass on our property, he has every right to know about it,” Brendon pushed.
“I really don't-”
“Come on.” Brendon's hand wrapped around Jon's wrist and before he could notice how icy Jon's skin was, the vampire was tearing his arm away and slamming Brendon against his own front door.
“Don't touch me. Ever,” Jon hissed through his teeth.
Brendon's eyes were wide and fearful, his mouth slightly agape. “I'm sorry,” he whispered frantically. “Let me go.”
Jon could feel the blood pumping through the veins in Brendon's arms where he had the brunette pinned. He could almost taste it running down his throat, soothing his thirst for days. Maybe weeks, even. He was inches away from the best catch in history. He could have it all, right here and right now.
He straightened himself and released Brendon. “I, uh. Lost my temper. Forgive me.”
“It's-”
“I should be going.”
Without so much as a goodbye, Jon disappeared from sight. Brendon was left shaking against the door to his home, frozen in fear. After a moment, he slumped against the door and slid down to the concrete stoop beneath him. His hands went up to muss his hair as he tried to calm himself, but his ragged breathing didn't stop. Who the hell was this Jon Walker?
Author: trylohbyte
Rating: R Overall
Pairing: Vampire!Jon/Brendon, Vampire!Tom/Greta
Summary: Jon's found one of his long lost friends, Tom Conrad. But that son-of-a-gun, he's not the same as he used to be. He's turned over to the dark side, giving up human's blood for good. And for what? A pretty blonde? Oh, wait, that's his wife? And she's pregnant? Jon doesn't know what to make of any of it, but the mortal does help him out a little bit. He'll give her credit for that.
Dislcaimer: Obviously fictional. I hate to burst the Twilight generation's bubble, but vampires do not actually exist. Title belongs to Empires.
A/N: I am seriously all over the place. I've got two Jon/Spencer's in the works, a fair amount of Jon/Brendon's and one Ryan/Brendon. I don't know if I'll ever finish any of them, but let's hope. At least it only took two months this time and not three. x__x
Previous Chapters: P | 1 | 2
Tom glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes going soft as he smiled at the female behind him. “Greta, honey, go back to bed,” he said.
“But. Is everything okay?” she asked.
Jon knew she meant “I'm not going to die, right? Right?”.
“You'll be fine, babe,” Tom promised. “You need to rest up.” He glanced down to the stomach her hands were cradling. “I won't let anything happen to you.”
With one last nervous glance towards Jon, she scurried up the stairs and slammed what Jon assumed was her bedroom door shut.
There was an awkward pause as Jon and Tom exchanged silent eye contact.
Then, “Babe?” Jon laughed.
“Shut up,” Tom grumbled. “Come the fuck on, man. I'll tell you all about it in the living room.”
The living room was actually quite cozy. In a warm, sunny colored, designed-by-your-human-lover kind of way. It was all vintage furniture, Tom had said. Something about how Greta really wanted a legit old-timey room and he had connections with some furniture vendor that had been around since the 1700s.
“You remember Pat? That guy, he's got shit from every century you'd want to style your home after,” Tom explained.
“Home,” Jon said. “That's an interesting word for a vampire.”
“You really should think about settling down. It's actually pretty nice, just chilling out with someone you can see yourself spending the rest of your life with.”
“The human? Really?” Jon scoffed.
“It's not funny,” Tom growled. “I love her, okay? I don't know how it happened, it just did.”
“What happens when she dies?” Jon pointed out. “And you have to spend the rest of eternity without her?”
“Don't even bring that up,” Tom sighed. “I don't like to think about it.”
“You're really serious about this, though?” Jon asked. “You know every seeker's going to be after you, even if you're on their side.”
“Yeah, yeah. I try to stay in the shadows.”
“You should turn her.”
Suddenly, Tom is up and in Jon's face, teeth bared and vicious. “Don't say that. That is not an option.”
“Calm down,” Jon laughed. He knew Tom could never - would never - hurt him. “Whatever you want. If you have a fetish for humans, so be it, I won't judge you for it.”
Tom relaxed, his face going slack and his shoulders loosening. “Sorry,” he apologized as he sat back down across from Jon. “It's just. I can't even imagine doing that to her. You remember how badly it-”
“Yeah,” Jon interrupted. He didn't like to think about it, much less talk about. Three-hundred-odd years ago when he first got turned into what he was now and he can still remember all the pain. How thirsty he had been those first few years, like it would never go away. And it never really did. “I know.”
“I just don't want her to suffer.”
Jon looked down to where his hands were clasped on his lap, his thumbs twiddling around each other, switching directions every now and then. He looked back up and noticed that Tom had been watching him with a skeptical gaze.
Tom had always had this unofficial power to read minds. Whatever you were thinking, he could recite it back to you, though he always insisted he could never actually hear anyone's thoughts. He pressed that it was just the look on their face - their body language. It revealed a lot about what a person was feeling, he would always say, and that after years of practice, he's got the reading of it down to a science.
“What?” Jon asked.
“You met someone.” Tom stated knowingly.
Jon is quiet, still stunned after all the years by the ability that Tom possessed. Then, he said, “It's actually really complicated and I don't want to talk about it right now.”
“Who is she?” Tom pressed. “Where does she live and how did you meet her? Why didn't you kill her, I thought you were still doing that kind of thing, Jon. When did you-”
“Okay, first of all, he's a dude.”
Tom looked confused for a minute before realization lit up his eyes and his grin broke out further. “All these years and I never knew you were-”
“I was going to kill him but. But I just couldn't,” Jon relived. “For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to.”
“I know that feeling,” Tom sympathized, glancing at the staircase. “So what are you going to do about it?”
“I really don't know.”
“You could always-” Tom started with a smirk.
“Not happening.”
“Not until I do it to Greta, right?”
“Right. Let me know and we'll have an initiation for both of them.”
“Not in either of their lifetimes.”
Jon sighed and leaned back on the sofa he was seated in. He looked up to the painted ceiling and let his eyes run over the soft, sunny color.
“Maybe this is some sort of sign,” Tom said. “I mean, I met Greta the same way you met your guy and look at us now.”
“Married and expecting?” Jon nearly choked on his laughter. “Because that's really what I want. To be tied down to a human for the rest of their life.”
“I didn't think I wanted it either.”
Jon stayed quiet after that, choosing to observe the décor of the room.
“Think about it. I've got a pregnant, scared-shitless wife to tend to.” And then Tom was gone, faster than Jon could blink. Up the stairs and Jon could hear their soft mumbling to each other and maybe a little bit of crying on the female's end. Tom didn't come down again for the rest of the night.
“Mmm, someone's cooking for me?” Jon heard. “That never- oh.”
Jon glanced back at Greta who's fear had returned. He watched as she took a small step back and her hands instinctively fell down to cradle her stomach. “You're, um. Still here,” she squeaked.
Jon had made himself quite at home. For having only one person who actually ate in the house, there was quite a plethora of food. He'd decided, as an apology for startling her, that he would prepare some bacon and eggs for Greta. Tom had already woken up and left the house, pausing to make some offhand and hypocritical comment about Jon going soft on him before exiting through the front door.
Jon smiled and announced as brightly as he could, “I made breakfast!”
“I thought you didn't eat,” Greta said slowly, not moving from her post in the doorway.
“Well, I don't,” Jon admitted. “But you do. And you're pregnant. So you're eating for two. And I just thought. Um. Good morning?” All while talking, he scraped some of the scrambled eggs onto the plate he'd set up for her. Two strips of bacon were already in place, and a bottle of ketchup was there if she so desired it. After he served the meal, he stepped back to the farthest corner of the room and held one hand out as an invitation to eat. “I'm not going to hurt you. Tom's my friend and you're his wife, so.”
Greta kept her eyes on Jon's still form as she slowly made her way forward to the dining table. She sat down and finally allowed herself to look away. “Thank you,” she said.
“You're welcome.”
He watched as she cautiously took the first bite. Seeing that it wasn't poisoned, she started to dig in more, and pretty soon, her plate was clean and she was holding it out, asking for more.
“You warm up to vampires easily, don't you?” Jon chuckled.
She seemed to tense at the word, but then she forced herself to relax and replied, “I live with one. What can I say?”
Jon served her more food, keeping a safe distance so as not to scare her. He set the pan of eggs back on the stove and moved over to sit across from the petite blond. “I have a question.”
Greta started at the sound of his voice, still not one hundred percent okay with another vampire being in her home. “Go ahead,” she allowed.
“How do you woo a human?”
She glanced up from her plate incredulously, cheeks slightly puffed out from the food they contained. After she swallowed, she said, “I'm not going to help you do your hunting, if that's what you want from me.”
“Not at all,” Jon gasped. “I'd doubt if I'd need your help for that.” Greta turned slightly green and Jon quickly changed the subject, “It's just that. I've met someone and I. It's hard to explain to a human, but I'm thinking since-”
“You met a human you can't seem to kill and you have no idea how to handle it so you're asking someone who's been there and done that for advice.”
“You and Tom are the same person,” Jon laughed out loud, noting how they both seemed to read his mind at the most convenient times.
“I know the face of a vampire who's been hit with the arrow.”
Jon smiled at her, careful to keep his lips closed to conceal his tell-tale fangs.
“You just need to... not scare the shit out of them,” Greta advised. “Like, don't show up at their door step at ass o'clock in the morning, looking all pale and. Vampire-ish.”
“As if I can help my appearance.”
“And don't climb their walls and look in their windows.”
“Too late.”
“Yeah, I figured. That's how I met Tom,” Greta giggled. “You should apologize for scaring the shit out of them.”
“That'll be awkward.”
“Just do it.”
Jon thought Greta was crazy when she suggested it. He thought she was utterly insane. There was no way he would go apologize to that guy he saw, no way in hell. It would be the last thing he did before he died, which is saying something, because he's. Well, he's never going to die. Which would mean apologies would never happen.
But later that same day, he found himself at the front door of the guy's house. He knew he was home. He could smell his sweet aroma and he was stuck somewhere between crashing through the door and running away from the house. He didn't have to breathe to live, but he had to make sure there were no seekers around. Scent was the only way. So he kept himself susceptible to the smell.
Reluctantly, he knocked on the front door to the house and waited for an answer. It took a minute, but soon a different brunette was swinging the door open, asking who he was and what he wanted.
“Um. Hi,” Jon said stiffly. “My name is Jon Walker and I was here the other night, but it wasn't you that I met...”
The person who'd opened the door arched one eyebrow as if he didn't trust Jon. Which was a perfectly valid reaction. But he didn't slam the door shut in Jon's face and he didn't call the cops or anything. He simply turned his head to look over his shoulder and called, “Brendon!”
Jon could smell him before he could see him. It took endless amounts of effort to keep himself firmly planted where he was instead of running in either direction. His hands clutched his thighs tightly so they wouldn't fly up to his nose. His brows furrowed in concentration.
When he finally got to the door, Jon knew he was a little bit shocked. He could feel it coming off him in waves. Brendon turned to his roommate and said, “Ryan, I've got this covered.”
Ryan nodded and disappeared back into the house. Brendon, after making sure he was gone, met Jon's eyes with a glare and stated, “You're the guy from last night.”
“Yeah, actually, that's why I'm here,” Jon choked.
“You have thirty seconds to explain yourself before I get Ryan to call the police on your ass.”
“I was a little lost and intoxicated last night,” Jon fibbed “And I just found myself stumbling around. I guess your home is where I landed.”
“That doesn't explain why you were watching me through my window,” Brendon prompted. “My second story window.”
“I think you may have imagined that part.”
“I did not.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Well, I'm sure I wasn't scaling your wall, so we've reached an impasse. And while we're in this state of deadlock, I might as well introduce myself,” Jon decided. “My name is Jonathan Walker.”
“Brendon Urie. It's, uh.” Brendon paused to find the right phrase, then continued, “Meeting you some other way would have been nicer.”
“I'm sorry we had to meet like this.”
“Yeah, me too.”
It took Jon a minute to realize that Brendon was not just looking at him. He was observing him. Like some sort of painting or photograph. He could feel Brendon's eyes burning into his cold, cold skin. And he found that he actually didn't mind the feeling.
“Did you want to come in?” Brendon invited suddenly. “Meet my roommate, maybe tell him about what happened.”
“I don't know if that's a good idea,” Jon declined.
“It's only fair. You did trespass on our property, he has every right to know about it,” Brendon pushed.
“I really don't-”
“Come on.” Brendon's hand wrapped around Jon's wrist and before he could notice how icy Jon's skin was, the vampire was tearing his arm away and slamming Brendon against his own front door.
“Don't touch me. Ever,” Jon hissed through his teeth.
Brendon's eyes were wide and fearful, his mouth slightly agape. “I'm sorry,” he whispered frantically. “Let me go.”
Jon could feel the blood pumping through the veins in Brendon's arms where he had the brunette pinned. He could almost taste it running down his throat, soothing his thirst for days. Maybe weeks, even. He was inches away from the best catch in history. He could have it all, right here and right now.
He straightened himself and released Brendon. “I, uh. Lost my temper. Forgive me.”
“It's-”
“I should be going.”
Without so much as a goodbye, Jon disappeared from sight. Brendon was left shaking against the door to his home, frozen in fear. After a moment, he slumped against the door and slid down to the concrete stoop beneath him. His hands went up to muss his hair as he tried to calm himself, but his ragged breathing didn't stop. Who the hell was this Jon Walker?