aware (peterick)

16

Brendon's eyes widen to the size of two moons when he sees me storming into the empty office in all my restless fury. He shoots up from his chair like he's seen a ghost, knocking over his empty to-go coffee cup in the process, his expression quickly morphing from shock to fear as I close our proximity at high speed. He cowers back, shielding his face as though I might deck him. "Listen, I am so, so sorry-"

"Court forms?" I interrupt.

He blinks, takes a moment to process my request before blurting his response. "All posted. I received the clarification email a few hours ago."

I nod abruptly. "Good. Sorry, carry on."

"I'm really, really sorry for what happened last night," he flusters. His cheeks are flushed, hot and red, but not from embarrassment. I bet it's that fucking scarf; the manky thing is practically suffocating him. "I'm used to Dallon's snarky attitude, but he shouldn't have spoken to you like he did. Was he ok after we left?"

An interesting question, considering the struggle I had recently gone through trying to escape the confinements of my own house unnoticed. You see, I can never guarantee that Patrick isn't going to wake up halfway through me chaining him to the fucking bed. Again. It wasn't lack of mobility that stimulated his anxiety this time, however; like a small child haunted by nightmares, he'd begged me to stay, the only motive to calm him being the promise of reunion sex. "Aside from the blood pouring uncontrollably out of his eyes? Yeah, he was ok."

Brendon cringes. "Crying blood is a thing? That's nasty."

"Lack of nutrients," I explain with a tired sigh. "He hasn't been feeding well."

"You had sex," Brendon muses with a suggestive wiggle of the eyebrows. "Did you let him eat you?"

"How else would I be standing here with you?"

"Vamp sex: the best medicine."

"Aren't you hot in that scarf?" I ask.

He blinks again, baffled, if only for a moment. He then shakes his head and walks back around to his desk, and proceeds to make himself look busy, which means he's trying not to make it obvious that he's hiding something. "Actually, I only just got here. Heating takes ages to kick in, you know?"

Of course, I never would have known that unless I worked here myself. Oh, that's right, I still do, in which case I definitely would know about our apparent dodgy heating system that clearly wasn't fixed three months ago. Old Tony didn't drop by on his way home from the airport for a donut, now, did he? "You don't have to be embarrassed about it, you know," I say to Brendon. "I know what it's hiding. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

Now he's embarrassed. Embarrassed and terrified, for what reason I am unaware. "You... you know? But... How did you-?"

"I was there when it happened. At the apartment?"

He blinks again, for a third time. The relief on his face next is almost glorious. "Right! Yes, I almost forgot about that... Time sure flies."

"It sure does," I say. I pretend not to notice when Brendon widens his eyes at the floor and mutters something along the lines of "fuck" under his breath. I've clearly caught him red handed; he's hiding something far more than an innocent bite mark, the bite mark that I, myself, had witnessed the appearance of. I decide not to say anything about it. "Where's Dallon today?"

"Oh, he's at home."

"Tired after last night?"

Brendon shrugs and pushes a few random sheets of paper around his desk with his fingers. He's beginning to feel uncomfortable. He wants me to leave, probably so that he can rush off home to have sex with his new boyfriend. "Something like that," he mutters. He continues to stare at his desk for a few moments before he looks up at me. "I swear he's a nice guy once you get to know him. He just has this charm about him that puts people on edge; he tries his best to be polite, but... but as long as Patrick is ok, that's the main thing."

This time it's my turn to stare at the ground. Only unlike Brendon, I'm not afraid to hold onto my darkest secrets anymore. I chuckle silently to myself. "I never thought I'd say it."

"Say what?" Brendon asks.

"Patrick," I mutter, gazing thoughtfully at the floor. "Patrick means everything to me."