Anger's a Lesser Disaster (Ch. 4.)
Title: Anger's a Lesser Disaster
Author: trylohbyte
Rating: R Overall
Pairing: Vampire!Jon/Brendon, Vampire!Tom/Greta
Summary: When out with Greta, Jon is confronted by the main source of his recent confusion again, and is given an offer that he actually can refuse, but can't bring himself to. His inner conflict worsens as he vents everything to Greta in a Starbucks, but her everlasting faith in him reassures him just enough to get him to stop whining. For the moment, at least. He'll need a human helping hand for his next adventure in the mortal world.
Disclaimer: Obviously fictional. I hate to burst the Twilight generation's bubble, but vampires do not actually exist. Title belongs to Empires.
Beta: falgoustt
A/N: Okay, I swear I am not getting bored of this. I really love writing this one and I'll probably end up finishing it. It's just that I am so scatterbrained and ADD when it comes to writing. I'll start one thing, get an idea for something else, and then start that one. It's a never ending cycle. I hate it and I am working on it. Trust me!
Previous Chapters: P | 1 | 2 | 3
Greta wanted Starbucks. All Jon could make out of the roaring argument in front of him was that Greta wanted Starbucks and Tom would not let her have it. Jon couldn't imagine why, or even how he was denying her. She was one raging bitch when she didn't get what she wanted. He learned that on his second night crashing at Tom's place. It started with her wanting a soda, and ended with Tom cowering in the corner of the room, trembling as he finally offered her an open can of Sprite.
The fighting in the Conrad home wasn't constant, but when it occurred, it was loud and unnecessary. They fought about things like coffee and didn't seem to notice the things that humans fight about. Like when Tom came home late from hunting. Any other human female would have probably gotten angry. Would have wanted him to at least call, or else they'd question him on what he was doing out all night. But instead, they were yelling about Starbucks.
So, “I'll take you to Starbucks,” Jon offered finally.
Tom whipped his head around to glare at Jon while Greta tackled him and clutched his arm. “You are the best vampire ever, I swear.”
“I married you,” Tom argued.
“Yeah, but Jon is getting me Starbucks. He understands humans more than you.”
“Well, after you forced me to read those books,” Tom sighed, “I learned that caffeine is not recommended during pregnancy. Or else I would have carried you there.”
“Key word being 'recommended'. You're still allowed to drink it, just not excessively. Doctors say no more than three cups a day.”
“Whatever,” Tom grumbled. “Jon, if you let her have more than just one cup, I swear I'll tear you apart.”
“Cool with me, dude,” Jon agreed nonchalantly. “Make sure to burn the pieces when you're done, though.”
Tom glared for a few seconds longer before disappearing upstairs within a split second. Then Greta glanced up at Jon and smiled. That kind of smile she always had on when she was about to ask you a ridiculous question.
“Are you going to carry me?”
“No.”
---
"I want a vanilla bean frappuccino. No whipped cream and as low fat as they can make it.”
“Are there fat in those?” Jon asked, confused. He'd never actually been in a Starbucks before. He'd only managed to track one down by scent, and even then, Greta had to give him directions to a different one because the one he'd led her to wasn't “her favorite”.
“I don't know,” Greta admitted. She fished a wallet out of her bag, but Jon wouldn't have any of that. He told her he'd pay for the drink and directed her to an empty table where she could sit and wait for him.
He faithfully ordered her beverage, giving the exact request to the barista while also mentioning that it wasn't for him. It was for the pregnant one in the corner. Because the guy behind the counter was giving him the “only fags and women drink frappuccinos” look. The “coffee” was prepared quickly. When it was done, Jon delivered it to Greta, along with the green straw that she'd pantomimed for from across the room.
“That guy was looking at you like a freak,” Greta commented.
“Yeah, I think he was wondering-” He was cut short when he smelled something other than tea and cappuccinos. His nose twitched, and Greta took notice.
“What is it?” she asked, clutching both hands around her cold cup.
“Fuck,” Jon cursed. He bared his teeth against his urges. The scent that had just entered the room was Brendon's, and even masked slightly by the scents of the store, it was pungent and inviting as ever. His hands gripped the edge of the table and Greta bit her lip when she saw a crack start to run through the middle of the wooden top.
“Jon, you're gonna break the table.”
“Fuck,” he repeated. He let the table go, clenched his hands into fists, and turned around to face the source of the aroma. Brendon hadn't seen him, it seemed. He was ordering his own drink. Jon could hear him ask for the same thing Greta had. When the brunette received his coffee, he turned away from the counter and that was when he noticed Jon standing there. Tense and conflicted. He waved him over.
“Is that him?” Greta asked.
A tiny growl fought its way out of Jon's throat. “That's the guy.”
“Go talk to him.”
“I can't.”
Brendon beckoned him again.
“You're never going to get over this wanting to kill him thing if you don't get used to the smell.”
“That. Or if I get any closer to him, I'll take him down on the spot and have to flee the city,” Jon replied sarcastically.
“Now, I know you have more self-restraint than that,” Greta sighed. “Go over there before he comes over here.”
Jon took a deep breath. Not because he needed oxygen. But it had become a habit. Pretending to be human meant doing everything humans did without realizing it - from blinking to breathing and a to z - anything a human did involuntarily was now habit for Jon. So that deep breath, he took it, and he walked over to Brendon whose face lit up when he saw.
“Hi!” he exclaimed when Jon reached him.
“Uh. Hi,” Jon greeted.
“What brings you to Starbucks?” Brendon asked. “You don't strike me as the coffee type. Since, you know, you look so tired all the time and stuff.”
“I, um. I'm here with a friend.”
“Are you okay?”
Jon nodded.
“Look, I know we didn't really start off on the right foot the other day,” Brendon sighed. “And if I offended you, I didn't mean to.”
“You didn't offend me.”
“You're acting like I'm the human incarnation of Satan, Jon Walker,” he grumbled. “Which, as far as I know, I am not.”
“I'm sorry.”
“No, don't be. Maybe we should just restart.” A pause, then, “Again.”
“Okay. I'm Jon Walker.”
“I'm Brendon Urie. And right now, I'm going to ask you out to lunch with me because even though you somehow stumble upon my property late at night and pretend you weren't spying on my through my bedroom window, I think you are charming and attractive.”
Jon didn't know what to say. Well, he did. He knew he should say, “Fuck no, I can hardly smell you without jumping you. Lunch would not be pleasant.” But he didn't. Because that would freak some people out. Instead, he started to panic. He glanced back at Greta and gave her a face that accurately portrayed his feelings at that very moment. Greta shrugged, green straw stuck between her lips, and twirled her finger around. The universal sign for turn around.
So Jon did. “I'm not sure if that would be a very good idea,” he said finally.
“Why not?” Brendon asked. “It's just lunch. It doesn't even have to be a date, if you don't want it to be.”
“No, you don't understand. I really cannot go somewhere with you.”
“Why can't you tell me why?”
“It's complicated.”
“A date would give you the time to tell me all about it.”
“Your logic makes no sense.”
“I know. Go out with me.”
Jon sighed. Brendon wasn't going to give up, was he? He briefly contemplated the idea of a date. On one hand, he didn't think he could. Because just the scent of Brendon's blood drove him so wild with want that he could hardly hold himself back when he smelled him. But on the other hand, he thought he might be able to manage it. There would be so many people around - more than there were in the tiny Starbucks - that if he even tried to kill Brendon, there would be no hope for him afterwards. Any guard would be doubled, and he'd be sent back to where he came from in no time. His self-control was strong, and it was even stronger when there were plenty of people in the general area.
So, "One date. We can talk, and we can get to know each other, but I'm not going to promise you a call or another night out, okay?"
"Agreed." Brendon's face lit up as he continued, "But just because you can't promise anything doesn't mean I can't." His second order came, and with a final grin accompanied by a wink, he flounced away.
Jon sulked all the way back to the table where Greta sat, anxiously awaiting a play-by-play on the conversation that just ensued. She chewed on the end of her straw, a small, anticipated smile playing at her lips. But when she saw the conflicted emotions Jon displayed clearly on his face, she toned down the eagerness and allowed him to take his time in explaining things to her.
"I have no idea what I've just gotten myself into," Jon said, after a long moment of silence.
"Well, what did you say to him?" Greta prompted.
"I thought he just wanted to say hi," Jon sighed. "I thought he wanted me to go over there so he could just say 'hey' or something, not so he could ruin my afterlife."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
"I'm not even supposed to be on this Earth, much less mingling with its inhabitants - no offense to you or anything."
"Whatever just happened, you're overreacting and you're also not telling me anything, what with your rambling," Greta grumbled.
"We're going on a date," Jon admitted. "He wanted me over there so he could ask me on a fucking date."
"Why are you complaining, then?" Greta asked. "Isn't this what you wanted in the first place?"
"It is, in a way. But I didn't expect it to be so hard. I thought I would be used to it by now, the never-ending thirst."
"Let's not talk about your desire for human blood right now."
"You'd think after breathing in the scents of so many humans for hundreds upon hundreds of years that I would get accustomed to the smell and not even be able to pick one person from another, but no. This guy has to come along with his mind-blowing, mouth-watering aroma and taunt me with it like it's his fucking job. And as if whatever God exists would give me a break at that, he has to be tempting in every other way-"
"So he smells good and you think he's hot," Greta silenced Jon. "You may sound like a teenage girl, but you also sound completely human. Except for the whole blood thing."
"You were a teenage girl once. How did you cope with this?" Jon pleaded.
"Well, mostly, I just hid from the guy. But then one man came along and made everything a little less scary for me." She smiled and pointedly brought her eyes up to meet Jon. "Everyone - not just females or humans, I mean everyone - gets nervous when someone they hardly know brings out all these inexplicable feelings. We all need a little push, but we also have to give a pull in return. You seem to perceive yourself as a much scarier creature than you are, but I can assure you that only someone who knows what you are would be frightened. If you really want this guy, for more than just a meal, you have to let him know that you're not the only one trying to make things happen."
Jon just stared blankly back at her for a long time. Since his arrival in Chicago, Tom had told him that his wife was quite a talker. She always put in her two cents, Jon had been told. And although he'd never considered her very quiet, he'd also never heard her say so many words at once. It was a shock to hear the full-on speech she'd just given him. And even if she had spoken so much in one breath before, it was never anything particularly remarkable. Probably an explanation of the latest episode of her favorite soap. But her words had actually meant something this time around, and despite Jon's vague understanding of human behavior, he found himself agreeing with her. Because it was exactly the same in his world.
"I haven't been on a real date in almost two hundred years," Jon sighed.
"Then isn't it time you educated yourself on that part of the human world?"
"That's not what I mean. It's just that I have no idea what a mortal man would do on a date. What if something I do or something say reveals myself to him?"
"Don't you think Tom felt exactly the same way?" Greta offered. "He's not much older than you, as far as I've been told, so he can't have many more experiences. I didn't know what he was until three nights before we got married."
"And you didn't run?" Jon asked, shocked.
"I was in love with the guy." Greta shrugged. "Fuck, I still am. I'm carrying his kid, for Christ's sake. You'd be surprised at how few things there are that will make a woman leave the man she's in love with. Whether he's actually a man or not."
"You really don't think I'll do something to royally fuck everything up?"
Greta started to push herself up from the chair, and Jon was up in an instant to help her. She smiled gratefully and grasped his hand as she heaved herself up from the wooden seat.
"You should be fine, as long as you're not ordering any bloody mary's." Jon barely caught her smile as she walked past with an unspoken command to follow. "And I don't mean the drink."
Author: trylohbyte
Rating: R Overall
Pairing: Vampire!Jon/Brendon, Vampire!Tom/Greta
Summary: When out with Greta, Jon is confronted by the main source of his recent confusion again, and is given an offer that he actually can refuse, but can't bring himself to. His inner conflict worsens as he vents everything to Greta in a Starbucks, but her everlasting faith in him reassures him just enough to get him to stop whining. For the moment, at least. He'll need a human helping hand for his next adventure in the mortal world.
Disclaimer: Obviously fictional. I hate to burst the Twilight generation's bubble, but vampires do not actually exist. Title belongs to Empires.
Beta: falgoustt
A/N: Okay, I swear I am not getting bored of this. I really love writing this one and I'll probably end up finishing it. It's just that I am so scatterbrained and ADD when it comes to writing. I'll start one thing, get an idea for something else, and then start that one. It's a never ending cycle. I hate it and I am working on it. Trust me!
Previous Chapters: P | 1 | 2 | 3
Greta wanted Starbucks. All Jon could make out of the roaring argument in front of him was that Greta wanted Starbucks and Tom would not let her have it. Jon couldn't imagine why, or even how he was denying her. She was one raging bitch when she didn't get what she wanted. He learned that on his second night crashing at Tom's place. It started with her wanting a soda, and ended with Tom cowering in the corner of the room, trembling as he finally offered her an open can of Sprite.
The fighting in the Conrad home wasn't constant, but when it occurred, it was loud and unnecessary. They fought about things like coffee and didn't seem to notice the things that humans fight about. Like when Tom came home late from hunting. Any other human female would have probably gotten angry. Would have wanted him to at least call, or else they'd question him on what he was doing out all night. But instead, they were yelling about Starbucks.
So, “I'll take you to Starbucks,” Jon offered finally.
Tom whipped his head around to glare at Jon while Greta tackled him and clutched his arm. “You are the best vampire ever, I swear.”
“I married you,” Tom argued.
“Yeah, but Jon is getting me Starbucks. He understands humans more than you.”
“Well, after you forced me to read those books,” Tom sighed, “I learned that caffeine is not recommended during pregnancy. Or else I would have carried you there.”
“Key word being 'recommended'. You're still allowed to drink it, just not excessively. Doctors say no more than three cups a day.”
“Whatever,” Tom grumbled. “Jon, if you let her have more than just one cup, I swear I'll tear you apart.”
“Cool with me, dude,” Jon agreed nonchalantly. “Make sure to burn the pieces when you're done, though.”
Tom glared for a few seconds longer before disappearing upstairs within a split second. Then Greta glanced up at Jon and smiled. That kind of smile she always had on when she was about to ask you a ridiculous question.
“Are you going to carry me?”
“No.”
---
"I want a vanilla bean frappuccino. No whipped cream and as low fat as they can make it.”
“Are there fat in those?” Jon asked, confused. He'd never actually been in a Starbucks before. He'd only managed to track one down by scent, and even then, Greta had to give him directions to a different one because the one he'd led her to wasn't “her favorite”.
“I don't know,” Greta admitted. She fished a wallet out of her bag, but Jon wouldn't have any of that. He told her he'd pay for the drink and directed her to an empty table where she could sit and wait for him.
He faithfully ordered her beverage, giving the exact request to the barista while also mentioning that it wasn't for him. It was for the pregnant one in the corner. Because the guy behind the counter was giving him the “only fags and women drink frappuccinos” look. The “coffee” was prepared quickly. When it was done, Jon delivered it to Greta, along with the green straw that she'd pantomimed for from across the room.
“That guy was looking at you like a freak,” Greta commented.
“Yeah, I think he was wondering-” He was cut short when he smelled something other than tea and cappuccinos. His nose twitched, and Greta took notice.
“What is it?” she asked, clutching both hands around her cold cup.
“Fuck,” Jon cursed. He bared his teeth against his urges. The scent that had just entered the room was Brendon's, and even masked slightly by the scents of the store, it was pungent and inviting as ever. His hands gripped the edge of the table and Greta bit her lip when she saw a crack start to run through the middle of the wooden top.
“Jon, you're gonna break the table.”
“Fuck,” he repeated. He let the table go, clenched his hands into fists, and turned around to face the source of the aroma. Brendon hadn't seen him, it seemed. He was ordering his own drink. Jon could hear him ask for the same thing Greta had. When the brunette received his coffee, he turned away from the counter and that was when he noticed Jon standing there. Tense and conflicted. He waved him over.
“Is that him?” Greta asked.
A tiny growl fought its way out of Jon's throat. “That's the guy.”
“Go talk to him.”
“I can't.”
Brendon beckoned him again.
“You're never going to get over this wanting to kill him thing if you don't get used to the smell.”
“That. Or if I get any closer to him, I'll take him down on the spot and have to flee the city,” Jon replied sarcastically.
“Now, I know you have more self-restraint than that,” Greta sighed. “Go over there before he comes over here.”
Jon took a deep breath. Not because he needed oxygen. But it had become a habit. Pretending to be human meant doing everything humans did without realizing it - from blinking to breathing and a to z - anything a human did involuntarily was now habit for Jon. So that deep breath, he took it, and he walked over to Brendon whose face lit up when he saw.
“Hi!” he exclaimed when Jon reached him.
“Uh. Hi,” Jon greeted.
“What brings you to Starbucks?” Brendon asked. “You don't strike me as the coffee type. Since, you know, you look so tired all the time and stuff.”
“I, um. I'm here with a friend.”
“Are you okay?”
Jon nodded.
“Look, I know we didn't really start off on the right foot the other day,” Brendon sighed. “And if I offended you, I didn't mean to.”
“You didn't offend me.”
“You're acting like I'm the human incarnation of Satan, Jon Walker,” he grumbled. “Which, as far as I know, I am not.”
“I'm sorry.”
“No, don't be. Maybe we should just restart.” A pause, then, “Again.”
“Okay. I'm Jon Walker.”
“I'm Brendon Urie. And right now, I'm going to ask you out to lunch with me because even though you somehow stumble upon my property late at night and pretend you weren't spying on my through my bedroom window, I think you are charming and attractive.”
Jon didn't know what to say. Well, he did. He knew he should say, “Fuck no, I can hardly smell you without jumping you. Lunch would not be pleasant.” But he didn't. Because that would freak some people out. Instead, he started to panic. He glanced back at Greta and gave her a face that accurately portrayed his feelings at that very moment. Greta shrugged, green straw stuck between her lips, and twirled her finger around. The universal sign for turn around.
So Jon did. “I'm not sure if that would be a very good idea,” he said finally.
“Why not?” Brendon asked. “It's just lunch. It doesn't even have to be a date, if you don't want it to be.”
“No, you don't understand. I really cannot go somewhere with you.”
“Why can't you tell me why?”
“It's complicated.”
“A date would give you the time to tell me all about it.”
“Your logic makes no sense.”
“I know. Go out with me.”
Jon sighed. Brendon wasn't going to give up, was he? He briefly contemplated the idea of a date. On one hand, he didn't think he could. Because just the scent of Brendon's blood drove him so wild with want that he could hardly hold himself back when he smelled him. But on the other hand, he thought he might be able to manage it. There would be so many people around - more than there were in the tiny Starbucks - that if he even tried to kill Brendon, there would be no hope for him afterwards. Any guard would be doubled, and he'd be sent back to where he came from in no time. His self-control was strong, and it was even stronger when there were plenty of people in the general area.
So, "One date. We can talk, and we can get to know each other, but I'm not going to promise you a call or another night out, okay?"
"Agreed." Brendon's face lit up as he continued, "But just because you can't promise anything doesn't mean I can't." His second order came, and with a final grin accompanied by a wink, he flounced away.
Jon sulked all the way back to the table where Greta sat, anxiously awaiting a play-by-play on the conversation that just ensued. She chewed on the end of her straw, a small, anticipated smile playing at her lips. But when she saw the conflicted emotions Jon displayed clearly on his face, she toned down the eagerness and allowed him to take his time in explaining things to her.
"I have no idea what I've just gotten myself into," Jon said, after a long moment of silence.
"Well, what did you say to him?" Greta prompted.
"I thought he just wanted to say hi," Jon sighed. "I thought he wanted me to go over there so he could just say 'hey' or something, not so he could ruin my afterlife."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
"I'm not even supposed to be on this Earth, much less mingling with its inhabitants - no offense to you or anything."
"Whatever just happened, you're overreacting and you're also not telling me anything, what with your rambling," Greta grumbled.
"We're going on a date," Jon admitted. "He wanted me over there so he could ask me on a fucking date."
"Why are you complaining, then?" Greta asked. "Isn't this what you wanted in the first place?"
"It is, in a way. But I didn't expect it to be so hard. I thought I would be used to it by now, the never-ending thirst."
"Let's not talk about your desire for human blood right now."
"You'd think after breathing in the scents of so many humans for hundreds upon hundreds of years that I would get accustomed to the smell and not even be able to pick one person from another, but no. This guy has to come along with his mind-blowing, mouth-watering aroma and taunt me with it like it's his fucking job. And as if whatever God exists would give me a break at that, he has to be tempting in every other way-"
"So he smells good and you think he's hot," Greta silenced Jon. "You may sound like a teenage girl, but you also sound completely human. Except for the whole blood thing."
"You were a teenage girl once. How did you cope with this?" Jon pleaded.
"Well, mostly, I just hid from the guy. But then one man came along and made everything a little less scary for me." She smiled and pointedly brought her eyes up to meet Jon. "Everyone - not just females or humans, I mean everyone - gets nervous when someone they hardly know brings out all these inexplicable feelings. We all need a little push, but we also have to give a pull in return. You seem to perceive yourself as a much scarier creature than you are, but I can assure you that only someone who knows what you are would be frightened. If you really want this guy, for more than just a meal, you have to let him know that you're not the only one trying to make things happen."
Jon just stared blankly back at her for a long time. Since his arrival in Chicago, Tom had told him that his wife was quite a talker. She always put in her two cents, Jon had been told. And although he'd never considered her very quiet, he'd also never heard her say so many words at once. It was a shock to hear the full-on speech she'd just given him. And even if she had spoken so much in one breath before, it was never anything particularly remarkable. Probably an explanation of the latest episode of her favorite soap. But her words had actually meant something this time around, and despite Jon's vague understanding of human behavior, he found himself agreeing with her. Because it was exactly the same in his world.
"I haven't been on a real date in almost two hundred years," Jon sighed.
"Then isn't it time you educated yourself on that part of the human world?"
"That's not what I mean. It's just that I have no idea what a mortal man would do on a date. What if something I do or something say reveals myself to him?"
"Don't you think Tom felt exactly the same way?" Greta offered. "He's not much older than you, as far as I've been told, so he can't have many more experiences. I didn't know what he was until three nights before we got married."
"And you didn't run?" Jon asked, shocked.
"I was in love with the guy." Greta shrugged. "Fuck, I still am. I'm carrying his kid, for Christ's sake. You'd be surprised at how few things there are that will make a woman leave the man she's in love with. Whether he's actually a man or not."
"You really don't think I'll do something to royally fuck everything up?"
Greta started to push herself up from the chair, and Jon was up in an instant to help her. She smiled gratefully and grasped his hand as she heaved herself up from the wooden seat.
"You should be fine, as long as you're not ordering any bloody mary's." Jon barely caught her smile as she walked past with an unspoken command to follow. "And I don't mean the drink."