A/N: I just saw Fright Night, and my filthy little mind slashed Peter and Charley at once. I suppose it was the odd bit of flirting in the movie (or at least Peter hinting that he's perfectly a'OK with boys) that this ended up coming about. I really hope that more of this pairing appear soon! ^_^ And so,

Pairing: Peter/Charley

Summary: Charley and Peter get trapped in a small metal storage bin trying to hide from a vampire, and Peter get's ideas.

Disc: Obviously I don't own them otherwise that kiss at the end would have lasted a bit longer. Quite a bit longer.

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Well this had turned from a potentially lethal situation to a very strange one, and Peter Vincent had had his fair share of those. One minute he and Charley Brewster (he wanted to think of him as a sidekick, even though the scrawny git had taken quite a few more risks than he had) were chasing down some snarly wench through an industrial park, then the next minute he was pressed down in a storage tank with his fellow slayer lying on top of him.

"This is fucking brilliant, mate," said Peter through clenched teeth.

"That had better be your stake digging into my hip," was Charley's glib reply.

Peter snorted.

Whoever the snarly wench had been, she'd had a couple of mates. In the interest of self preservation Charley had gotten some dazzling fucking idea and, after causing a very good diversion with a few Molotov's, had opened up the teeny, tiny storage drum and shut them inside where they would presumably wait until morning.

Fantastic. Now here he was in the pitch dark, laid out flat on his back, with Charley half-lying on top of him trying to take the weight with his arms. There was a little vent letting fresh air in and out, which was fortunate because he really didn't want to suffocate with in here.

He tried to shift, but there wasn't much room. Charley certainly hadn't shopped around for valuable real estate, or considered what the rather intimate contact might do to Peter. He shifted a little, trying to keep control of himself, and wishing he was a more sloshed.

I am losing my buzz, he noticed, then reached between them, fishing for his pocket.

"Hey!" Charley squeaked, trying to roll his hips to the side.

Peter was glad it was dark because he could feel himself flushing up a bit as Charley's squirming fucked with his self control. "Oh relax, I'm looking for my flask not your junk."

He found it after a moment and, after a clumsy shuffle, held to his ear and shook it. Not that much left. Sighing, he twisted off the cap with his teeth and took a very awkward gulp, draining the last of it. He smacked his lips, wishing he had just a little more.

"Never a bad time for alcohol," Charley said sarcastically.

Was Charley always this cheeky? He wasn't sure. "Damn straight," he said, setting the flask aside.

"How long until sunrise?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Probably another two, three hours."

Charley started fidgeting. "I'm really sorry about this," he said, trying to draw himself over to the vent to peer out. He rolled, his hips dragging across Peter's legs, and then up, his arse rubbing against Peter's crotch.

He hissed, turning his head to the side. Charley's arms were on either side of his head, so he was all he could smell.

"I can't see anything."

I could have told you that!

Really, it wasn't fair. Here Charley was rubbing all over him, driving him mad, and he was out of sodding alcohol. Charley wiggled back down, sliding back over his crotch. Peter's pants weren't exactly what one would call roomy when he wasn't aroused, and now they were so tight he was worried a seam would burst.

"Now, I know that's not your stake," said Charley as he turned around again.

Peter winced. "You're the one rubbing his arse all over me."

Charley laughed. In the darkness, with his arms on either side of him, he could feel the warm breath on his face. It also meant he was close enough to kiss, which was just as maddening as anything else. Deciding that if Charley thought it was so fucking funny to tease, he spread his legs and hitched them up, letting Charley slide between them.

"This is about a million different kinds of wrong," said Charley, squirming a little.

Peter ignored the jab, clenching his teeth again as Charley's crotch ground against his as he tried to find a comfy spot. "I figured it would be more comfortable."

"Right." Charley laughed again. "Really, we make quite a pair. The pathetic college student who can't even keep a girlfriend and a bisexual Las Vegas illusionist who slay vampires in their spare time. I bet we could sell the story to HBO and make a mint."

"Oh naff off," said Peter, wondering if the universe fucking hated him. Never mind how much he owed this silly little sot, he really didn't deserve this.

There was a crunch from nearby and he felt Charley's body go rigid. Peter wrapped his arms around him and pulled him hard against his chest so that he could feel Charley's heartbeat against his.

"Why'd you do that?"

"Shut up!"

There was another crunch outside, sounding like the remains of Peter's car (Maggie, may you rest in peace) getting tossed aside. He hoped that the blonde bimbo with the fangs wasn't a good tracker. Charley had torched his poor little Ford and a few other abandoned sheds to make the vampires flee. Peter had seen fit to set a fake trail towards an alley and doubled back before Charley had forced him in this goddamn container.

"They fucked off that way," said one voice.

"Go check it out," said another, the snarly bitch.

Peter couldn't hear it disappear, and knew it didn't mean fuck all anyway. Whomever was left was dismantling one of the torched sheds by the sounds of things. Charley was gasping next to him, his body trembling, and wasn't that just helping his bloody hard-on?

"Would you get control of yourself?" Charley whispered in his ear.

"Shh," he said again.

A crunch, very close this time. Charley jumped.

God damnit, he certainly isn't acting like the man who killed an ancient vampire!

He shifted his arm and tilted Charley's head. Charley let out another squeak, but this was muffled by his lips. He figured if he was going to shut Charley up, he might as well give his mouth something to do - and didn't that thought send a bolt straight down to his nads - or, if they were going to die he might as well have a last snog.

Charley started to pull away, but Peter pulled him down hard. At first they did nothing but press their lips together, listening to the sounds of the vampire. There was another crash. Charley's heart kicked it into high gear. Peter started to move his lips against his. It was hard to ignore the fact that Charley had just turned eighteen a month before, but he didn't care. He smelled so good, and his body had stopped trembling now, his fingers were touching his hair.

Charley resisted at first, but Peter nipped his lower lip and when Charley gasped in surprise, Peter took advantage, delving his tongue inside.

Oh, that is nice, he thought, curling his fingers into Charley's rather shaggy hair. Thank the Gods for lazy college students.

Charley was kissing back now, his tongue making shy movements against his. Peter never really wanted to admit it because generally he preferred people who knew what they were doing, but he had a slight virgin fetish. Charley might not actually be a virgin but he was in this, and that send a wave of smouldering heat through his body.

Peter catalogued another new, and interesting development. Charley had a hard-on too. He squeezed his thighs together and thrust upwards, grinding against him. Charley gasped, his fingers dug into Peter's shoulders, thrusting back.

"Oh God," Peter hissed, breaking the kiss a moment. He turned Charlie's head and kissed over his jaw to his neck. Perhaps it wasn't the best thing to be doing given their situation, but he grazed his teeth over the warm skin and Charley shuddered. When he nipped, Charley thrust forward and twisted, finding his lips again.

The crunch's moved further away, and someone spoke. The first voice had returned. Trusting that Charley could keep his breathing under control, he pulled away, trying to listen to what was happening

"I spoke to a hooker. Said she saw two guys get into a taxi a few streets up."

The snarly bitch swore in a voice that was far too pretty for her fangs. "Does David know?" she asked after a moment.

"He's waiting for you to make a call."

She waited a moment. "Alright. Come on."

There was one more crunch, and something hit the tank with a very loud crash. Peter winced as his ears rang, and Charley had let out a yelp, but no one prised the lid of their tank off.

Their hearts were thundering in the small space. After a few minutes, unable to see, Peter shifted so that he was lying on his side, straddling Charley. He wished he had bad intentions, but he reached over and found the clasp and turned it. It grated, letting out a long ringing groan, but snapped open. He shifted again and heaved, standing up. The metal cover groaned again as he stood, and he peeked out into the alley.

Fire was still flickering here and there, attempting to burn. It was a wonder the fire department hadn't come yet, but it was a rather deserted area.

No vampire's came to bite him, so he shoved the lid open and reached down. Charley, looking very flushed and blinking dazedly in the sodium lights, took his hand and let himself be pulled up.

"So, um..." Charley offered.

Ignoring him, Peter picked up his flask and tucked it in his coat. His pants were still tight. Way too tight. Charley shuffled. His lips were all swollen and kiss sore, and ugh, Peter had grabbed him again, this time by the lapels of his shitty fucking jean jacket and claimed them again. The kiss was rough, dragging. He pulled away, and he felt Charley sway.

"My place."

Charlie blinked at him, like he couldn't understand the simple statement. It was like his brain had melted, and that made Peter proud.

"Um..."

"Not a question."

"Alright then, your place."

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A/N: I might do another... would people like another to find out what's going to happen next? Let me know ^_^