Title: Error In The Code
Author: Daisy
Fandom: South Park
Setting: Firkle's backyard/Mudroom
Pairing: Mike "Vampir" Makowski/Firkle
Characters: Mike "Vampir" Makowski, Firkle
Genre: Romance/Horror
Rating: T
Chapters: 1/1
Word Count: 838
Type of Work: One-Shot, Part of the Weekly Writing Prompts series
Status: Complete
Warnings: Yaoi, Gay, Slash, Gore, Blood, Death, Mutilation, Acid Use, Fluff, Unbeta'd
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: Firkle had been acting strange, so Mike had made his way over to his house to check on him. What he found would change both of their lives forever.
AN: So, this week's Weekly Writing Prompt from Fanfiction-Friends on deviantart was a random first line generator thing. ouo It's super neato and the first one I got worked well for my current muses. So, have some angsty Vampirkle. ; u; Hope you guys enjoy!
Prompt: Under normal circumstances he would speak his mind, but, with a gun against his head
Error In The Code ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Under normal circumstances he would speak his mind, but, with a gun against his head, Mike Makowski decided better of that little timebomb. The dangerous glint in Firkle's eyes told him enough; his boyfriend was likely out of his mind, having passed through like it was his lunch break. Those icy eyes held a heavy, hard stare as he cocked the gun slowly, his lips parting for a moment like he would speak. When nothing came forth, the younger male closed his mouth before finally managing a broken, cracked version of what he wanted to say.
"You're not going to tell anyone what you saw tonight, Mike." The cold metal bit against his skin, and the pseudo-vampire gulped audibly in the strangely silent, dark room. He vaguely wondered where he was; but it was best not to question his lover, at this point.
"I wasn't planning on it." Though he didn't know just how truthful that sentence was. Every fiber of his being was torn between fear of being shot, distress at the blood drenching the slightly shorter male, and arousal at the same sight. Part of him was desperate to tell someone, anyone, what he had seen; Firkle chopping up bodies and soaking them in acid. The rest of him wanted to tempt the devil and see just how far Firkle was willing to go, "Darling, you don't need to-"
"Don't tell me what to do, Mike." There was layers to the sentence; from the tired, worn tone to the soft plea that was the elder male's name. It almost sounded like he was trying desperately to go through with whatever it was he was planning, this sudden desire to keep Mike alive both troubling and startling. Ridiculous. Firkle didn't want to keep the annoying 'head vampire' alive because he was attached or anything. It wasn't like Mike was important to him.
The Kindergoth that everyone knew of yesteryear would have positively ripped him a new one for all of these pussy-ass feelings. Especially for Mike of all people.
"Why don't we try to talk this out?" The elder could feel his lips moving, his lower jaw quivering, hear his own voice but he didn't seem to make the connection that he was speaking. "Come on, duckling, I'd never rat you out, love."
"I want to believe you." Now, the hand holding the gun was quivering, making the warmed metal shake against his temple, "But… You're weak, Mike. You're a pathetic little pussy, and you know it. The second the cops came around questioning, you'd-"
"Remember how much I love you and want to protect you." Came the soft interruption, and finally Mike's hands moved up to gently wrap around Firkle's, and, vicariously, the gun. "I would never let them take you away from me. I'm the kind of guy that mates for life, baby doll. I couldn't live with myself if I was the reason that you went to jail, or worse."
Slowly, carefully, he moved to lean up and kiss the smaller male's knuckles, smiling in that disarming way that had Firkle's knees buckling. The bloodied eighteen year old sunk into his lap, and his arms, as the elder snatched up the gun and set it to the side. Cradling the lithe male against his chest, he hummed and whispered sweet, soothing things into his ear. He knew better than to break this contact, than to try and ruin the moment, but his legs were falling asleep.
"Alright, dearest," He finally whispered, unable to take much more of this, "I need you to let me up. I'll…" His eyes flickered over to the mutilated body not ten feet from them and his stomach flipped and dropped. The nausea he'd felt before the gun had been pulled on him returned full force and he had to hold his breath for a moment to avoid losing his lunch, "Um. I'll just… Try and help you with- With that."
"You sound like you're going to blow chunks." Firkle observed from his spot with his cheek pressed to the other's shoulder. "I'll handle it, then we can go clean up." He mumbled, "You can wait out in the yard, just… Don't even dream of running. I've got good aim and I'd hate to have to shoot you." That was enough of a confession to have Mike speaking before he considered how it sounded.
"I love you, angel face." He whispered, craning his neck and helping to move the smaller to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "I'll be under our tree." With a queasy smile, he helped the younger to untangle from him and made his way out of the mudroom and into the night, finding the dark corner their tree sat in and sliding down its trunk. Trying desperately to cling to the last shreds of his humanity, he sighed as he stared up at the night sky. Firkle was going to be the death of him, he just knew it.
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