I Hope They Taste of Me Forever

"Good, Elle!" Andy encouraged me as I flung another stake at the target, only missing the yellow bullseye by inches.

"Thanks," I grinned, walking forward to retrieve the weapon. "But can we practise kicks again? I'm sick of target work."

"Slow down for a second," he said, motioning me to go towards him. "You may be all young and energetic, but I need a break."

I laughed, but a new gash in his side didn't escape my notice. I didn't do that damage, and it sure as hell hadn't been there yesterday.

"Oh come on! You're only twenty-five! Eight years isn't that big of an age difference. You just like to act old."

"Shut up, squirt," he mumbled, not bothering to hold back a smile.

"Oh, I'm the squirt, am I?" I teased, standing up straight so that I was at least a foot taller than him.

"Yeah. You're younger than me. That makes you a squirt."

I shook my head as we emerged into the main room where the others were all occupying themselves. It had been about a month since the day that Joe had walked in on Pete and I. The awkwardness had faded from Joe; he probably didn't even remember, but Pete and I had barely spoken since then. If we did, it was only to argue about whether or not I was ready to go hunting with them (I never was, according to him) or it was participating in an important conversation with the others. Now I know that I hate him, but in all honesty I did miss those occasional talks that we used to have. Especially that one where he told me about his past. By the way he refused eye contact with me (unless it was in an argument to prove how angry at me he was), I knew that he was no longer a source of information for me. I kind of missed that. If you asked me a few months ago how I would feel about never having to deal with Pete and his mood swings, I'd say it was like a great Christmas present. Now that I have it, it just depresses me. Everything's so empty. Ever heard that saying 'be careful what you wish for'? I've always hated that saying.

"Hey," Joe greeted as we entered the room, probably sweaty and disgusting as hell.

"Hey," I said back, walking into the kitchen to get myself a glass of water.

It's strange how all of this is now routine. I put the jug of water back in the small fridge and walked back into the other room. The guys immediately fell silent from their chatter, but not before I heard Patrick say sternly 'No buts. You have to.'

"Who has to do what now?" I asked, falling into the couch and letting the icy rush run down my throat.

"We think it's a good idea that Pete practices fighting with you," Patrick spoke before anyone had the opportunity to change the conversation.

My eyebrows floated upwards.

"Uh, why? I'm doing just fine."

"Yeah..." Joe started. "But you're not good enough to fight vampires yet. You might be able to take down a lone punk or something, but the Dandies are the ones who want you. Now more than ever."

"What?" I sat up suddenly and saw the other three guys glare at Joe as he hit his head with his hand. "Why?"

Patrick sighed.

"Uh, we had a run in with Beckett last night. Pretty much the whole conversation was about how much he 'missed playing games with you' and how we were saying 'not a chance'."

"So that's how you got that nasty cut in your side," I directed at Andy. He gave me a guilty smile.

"I was hoping you didn't notice," he admitted. "You're too observant."

I ignored the compliment.

"And you didn't think it was necessary to tell me this before?" I frowned. I didnt like being kept out of the loop.

"Sorry," Joe apologized. "We just didn't want to frighten you."

"Frighten me?" I laughed bitterly. "I'm not a child! I can handle threats!"

I'd stood up as I was yelling. They were all shocked at me, but I don't think my anger was entirely for them. I'd been bottling it up since my parent's died and my brother started acting like a hero, treating me lower than him. I didn't want that feeling of complete worthlessness to come back before it had even completely left. And Pete still wasn't looking at me! 'Why won't he look at me?!'

I took a deep breath and sat back down.

"I'm sorry," I said, keeping my eyes on my knees. "But I'm not five years old anymore. I don't need you to protect me."

And it hit me. I wasn't staying with them for their protection. I was staying with them for the comradeship. A stampede of thoughts overtook my mind as silence overtook the room. The silence lasted for a good ten minutes, and was only broken when Pete answered one of my unasked questions.

"It's April the twelfth."

I hadn't even realized I'd been wondering what the date was, but the fact that Pete had finally spoken, even if in a soft mumble, was what took hold of my thoughts. And he'd been in my mind! That means he hasn't completely been ignoring my existence! Wait... why do I care so much anyway? I don't even like the guy. I looked up to meet hisbeautiful brown eyes and saw him crack a half smile.

"Happy birthday, Elle."

Woah... what? April twelve... hey! That is my birthday! And that means...

"I... I'm eighteen?"

The other guys looked equally as baffled as each other. Must suck for them to miss out on half a conversation that occers through the ether.

"I-It's your birthday today?" Joe asked, after taking ten seconds or so to comprehend.

"Yeah," I shrugged. "What do you know?"

Let me say right now, if I'd known that by saying that I'd be smothered in hugs by three fully grown men, I wouldn't have said it.

"Uh... thanks guys," I said awkwardly after way too many happy birthday's.

Is it strange that the only one that got to me was the one from the guy that I hated?The guy that said it first? The guy who realized it was my birthday before I did?

"We should celebrate!" Joe cheered, but of course I had to be a buzzkill.

"No no no no no. I really don't want to draw any more attention to it than necessary."

"A little alcohol doesn't count as drawing more attention," Joe said, running off to what I assume is his secret stash. Patrick didn't like alcohol.

I sighed. It kind of just dawned on me that I was still just a teenage girl living with four guys in their twenties, for one of whom that wouldn't be changing any time soon. Yeah, sounds like heaven, right? No. An overwhelming wave of despair washed over me, tingling through my limbs to my fingertips and toes. I could tell that Pete noticed this by the way his head snapped up suddenly to meet my eye again, for the second time in weeks without hostility.

"Uh, you guys have fun," I said quietly, standing up. "I'm actually kind of tired."

Before any of them could bombard me with questions, I escaped to my room and closed the door behind me. Flinging myself onto my bed, I jammed the pillow over my head and forced my eyes closed. I don't know how long it took me to force myself asleep, but it seemed to work. For a few hours, at least.

***

I woke up a few hours later, and after a good twenty minutes trying I realized that there was no point trying to get back to sleep but I didn't want to go outside to see the others either. I sat up on my bed, rubbing the crusty sleep from my eyes, and a frown of confusion settled on my brow as my peripheral vision caught a brown paper box sitting at my door. I swear, that wasn't there before. Curiosity getting the better of me, I tip toed across my room and picked up the parcel.

On the side, scribbled in sharpie, was the message 'Happy Birthday Elle. Thank you for coming into our lives.'

I groaned.

They didn't.

Oh but they did.

I didn't want this. I didn't want a fuss to be made over something as unimportant as a birthday. But I didn't want them to think that I didn't care about or appreciate the gesture. So I began to carefully unwrap the gift. Once the paper had been shed, I was faced with a white cardboard box. Lifting the lid gingerly, I gasped at what I saw.

No way.

I bit my lip and opened my door a crack, peeking out. Everything was still and silent. Checking the time, 9:06 pm, I guessed that the guys had probably gone hunting. Thankful for some alone time, I quickly made my way to the bathroom, carrying the white box with me. Bolting the bathroom door behind me, I slipped out of my jeans and singlet before hopping in for a quick shower, dressing, combing my hair, and applying a little make-up.

I took in a deep breath as I stared at the reflection in the mirror. I hadn't seen myself look even remotely like this since that night four years ago when I was fourteen and I came home to find my parents dead. But I looked older. More grown up. My lips painted a slightly deeper red, my cheeks tainted a rosy pink, my bright blue eyes outlined in thick eyeliner... I looked like I was ready to go hit up the city. And dare I say it; I looked somewhat beautiful. When was the last time I've thought that about myself?

But of course, I wouldn't be going anywhere. No one would even see me. My forty-five minute's effort was going nowhere. Oh well. At least for a few hours I'll be able to feel beautiful. I slowly shut the door behind me and made my way back to my room to dump the box and my other clothes before walking out to the main room, still drying my hair with a white towel. Of course, when I walked into the main room I got the biggest shock of my life and my feet stayed rooted to the spot.

The guys hadn't gone. They were all still there. And they were all looking at me.

Shit. 'Why didn't I check that they were gone before I went and pulled this?' Shit shit shit shit shit.

'Stop looking at me!' I screamed in my mind, but even Pete didn't obey my silent order.

This was extremely disconcerting. They were all eyeing me up and down. I was wearing their gifts; the dress and the necklace. The dress was small, black and strapless, hugging the top half of my body and flowing out as it went down. A pale blue satin ribbon was attached at the waist and tied up in a bow at the front. As for the necklace, it was delicately comprised of hundreds of tiny, thin, silver hoops, a colored jewel sparkling in every fifth hoop. How they had afforded this, I don't know.

"Uh, thank you," I whispered, looking down at my bare feet. I didn't know what else to say, and I'd never felt more self-conscious in my life.

"That's okay," Patrick shifted in his seat. "You deserve it. Happy birthday."

"Uh... thanks. Again."

"Elle..." Joe was gaping like a fish. "You look hot."

I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

"Um, I know you meant that as a compliment, but please don't ever call me that again," I said as I crossed the room and sat on the couch.

I was just wearing new clothes. This was only a big deal because I was making it so. I smirked as Joe squirmed uncomfortably and i put my finger under his chin and lifted his jaw up so his mouth was closed.

"And close your mouth. Drooling isn't very attractive."

He shot me a sarcastic look and triedand failed to look interested in the television. The next hour passed like that. Just watching TV like normal. Patrick kept disappearing to the kitchen but I ignored it. And as for Pete... well, I refused to look at him, and I had no idea if he was looking at me or if he was in my head. I honestly don't know when things became so awkward between us. I've found myself wary of what exactly I say to him. What was wrong with being the bitch who didn't care about his feelings? Where did that go? Randomly, a bell went off and Patrick stood up once again to go to the kitchen.

"What the hell..." I muttered under my breath, but I didn't need to wait long to find out.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR ELLE
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!"

Oh god.

Are you serious?

They made me a cake?

For real?

Fuck.

Patrick emerged from the kitchen with a massive smile plastered on his face as he carried an adorableslightly burnt buttercake, smothered in a thick layer of white icing.

"Oh my god... Patrick..." I choked out.

No. I was not going to cry. Just because this is the first time my birthday has even been acknowledged by anyone but me in four years, does not mean I have to get all excessively emotional.

After way too many thank you's and the 'celebration' that I'd been trying to avoid all day, it was time for everyone to go get some shut eye. One by one, we split down the different corridors that I had originally seen as maze-like, but was now so accustomed to. I gently swung the door to my room opened, but was surprised when it hit something half way open. I slid through the door and closed it behind me, eyebrows raised at a new box on the floor. It wasn't the other one, which was still open on the other side of the room, but it looked identical to the way that the other had, wrapped in brown paper, but without writing. I cautiously picked up the box and placed it on my bed, sitting down beside it. I ripped off the paper, not knowing what to expect, and took a deep breath before quickly opening the lid of the box.

To say I was shocked at what I saw was an understatement. To say I was horrified was an understatement. To say I was 100% confused was an understatement. To say I was beyond freaked out was the simplest summary I can think of.

Inside the box lay a set of skimpy black lingerie, complete with red lace and ribbons. Was this some sort of a joke? Ha ha. Not funny. My lips set in a snarl, I picked up the underwear as if it was infected, and saw a folded piece of paper lying in the box beneath. I hastily picked up the note and dropped the items, eager to discover which of the bastards to blame this on. Usually I'd say Pete, but with the way things have been so awkward between us I don't think that's it. Patrick's too sweet. Andy's too... brotherly. Joe? Possibly... But when would he have put it here?

Desperate to find out, I flipped open the note and let my eyes scan the words, dread filling me as I absorbed it.

To our dearest Elle Williams,
Happy eighteenth.
I am writing this under William's orders, because it would be simply unfitting for him to do so considering he has a significant other.
Now, we have made it quite clear that we want you.
If the scum that you seem to be happy with at the moment can give you a present, then we feel it's only fitting you recieve something from us too.
Welcome to adulthood, sweetheart.
And who knows... maybe one day you'll model it for me, eh?
With oh so much love,
Brendon Urie.

"Elle?"

Someone knocked on my door. I hastily shoved the letter and the lingerie back into the box and kicked it under my bed. The guys couldn't know about this.

"Yeah?" I called.

Pete opened the door and stood there, scratching his head.

"Uh..." he began, but couldn't seem to get the words out. "I... You're not mad are you? That they gave you a present?"

I shook my head. I'd completely forgotten. It was a nice gesture, but I had more important things to worry about. Things I couldn't think of right now...

"N-no," I stuttered. "I mean, I was a little at first because I didn't want to make a big deal out of this and I have no idea where the money came from..." I knew I was rambling, but as long as it prevented him from finding out about the Dandy's gift.

"Money's not a pressing issue for us," he cut me off. "And can you blame them for wanting to find a reason to celebrate? Our lives are so dark. I can deal with it, but they're still human, and they need to hold on to all the light they can get."

I simply nodded.

"Are you okay?" he asked after a moment.

Once again, I merely nodded. What else was I to do? He narrowed his eyes slightly in suspicion of my lie, and I knew that any second now he'd break down my mental barriers and find out. Maybe it was foolish to hide this from them. It must mean that the Dandies knew that this was the hideout. But for some reason I felt it necessary to keep it to myself. In a desperate effort to shield my thoughts, I reached into my mind and pulled out one memory to the front of it, concentrating entirely on that one thought.

And that one thought? It just so happened to be that time when Pete was sweaty and shirtless and pinning me to the ground.

But I didn't have time to select another memory, so I grasped onto this one tightly and re-lived it as best I could. Pete's eyebrows shot up, but instead of the cocky smirk I expected he looked... somewhat bashful. He lowered his eyes from mine and I tore my gaze away, hoping that he couldn't read my feelings of guilt about my secret. Apparently, thankfully, he didn't want to be in my mind anymore. After a minute or so of awkward silence, I raised my eyes again to see him looking at me, one eyebrow cocked in thought.

"Uh... I'm kind of tired," I spoke quietly.

"Right... sorry," he said, but took only a step backwards.

I watched him thoughtfully. It seemed he had something to say, but couldn't bring himself to say it. He opened his mouth a few times, only to close it again straight after. Not knowing what to do, I pulled the covers on my bed back, but then pulled them up again when I realized that I still needed to get changed before I could go to sleep. For a few seconds, I tried to ignore the vampire at my door.

"Elle?"

I turned my head to look at him, but once again he seemed incapable of words. So instead, he didn't use them and just projected his thoughts to my head. I felt the strange, warm, fuzzy sensation in my brain that indicated that the words were another's thoughts, and not my imagination.

'Happy Birthday.'

He turned on his heel and walked in the direction of his own room as I closed my door and slipped out of the dress they'd given me and into my sleepwear. After I let my hair out, turned off the light, and lay my head on my pillow, I drifted to sleep and eccentric dreams, thoughts of birthdays long forgotten, unreadable emotions, Brendon Urie, and skanky underwear making a whirlwind in my mind.