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Patrick is always hot. Always hot burning up. That is the most he can remember from his time under their control. That and the constant barrage of everything being toomuchtoomuch all the time. As such, when it's all over he avoids the heat. He can't take hot showers anymore and the AC is always cranked to the max. He can't go outside under the sun anymore no matter how much coaxing the others do. No one says anything about it at first. No one knows how to help with it. Pete tries to bring it up but Patrick shakes him off saying it's not important. Pete lets it slide. Until Patrick wakes up screaming.
Pete runs into the room to find Patrick thrashing and screaming bloody murder. He kicks all the blankets off and shoves himself against the headboard. Pete flicks the lights on, hoping to break him out of the nightmare. It has the opposite effect. Patrick's scream gets louder and he jumps off the bed. He flounders for a moment lik he can’t recognize where he is before going for the attached bathroom.
He staggers like he's drunk and Pete follows terrified. He's going to slip and crack his skull open on the tile. Patrick ducks and to the shower and turns it on the coldest it will go.
Pete watches and Patrick sits rocking and under the freezing spray. Pete sinks down next to the shower, feeling powerless to do little more than watch. He doesn't do anything or say anything until Patrick's lips and fingers start to turn blue.
“Tricky?” asks Pete, from his own curled up ball on the floor. Patrick doesn't move.
“Mmm.”
“ You look really cold.”
“Mmm.”
“Trick, can you please get out?”
Something in Pete's voice must snap Patrick out of it. He stands, trembling, and shuts the water off. Patrick stands there dripping, freezing, his clothes soaked through with cold water. Pete hands him a towel from the rack that Patrick takes. Pete then leaves to get a new band t-shirt and pair of boxers. He hands them over to Patrick who is still standing there, towel in hand, before Pete goes to sit outside.
Given that he literally ate Patrick a few weeks ago, watching him undress shouldn't be big of a deal. He just wants to get Patrick's space giving how cagey he's been.
So Pete sits outside the bathroom picking at his nails until Patrick comes out. Pete jumps to his feet like an overexcited dog.
“You all right?” Patrick blinks owlishly at him before raking a hand down his face and nodding.
“Yeah. Just a nightmare.”
Of course they all get those now. Hell Pete even got them before they went through the most traumatizing months of their lives. It's fine. Patrick's going to be fine.
But it turns into a trend. Patrick waking up screaming for almost giving himself hypothermia in the shower until Pete snaps him out of it. He also won't let Pete touch him at all. Not even after the fact when all Pete wants to do is rub some warmth back into his frozen fingers. Patrick will shake him off and shove him away with little more than a mumbled explanation. Pete just keeps telling himself it's fine, that Patrick is going to be fine. It's all going to be okay. And it's all going to work out.
Right?
*******
Patrick thrashes in their hold. His voice is gone because he'd been screaming non-stop since they dragged him out of the police station. He as pleaded with everything he had to the police to keep them from letting him go. Unfortunatly, so one listened to him when they handed him over to the vixens. No one's been listening to him since he handcuffed himself to that damn briefcase. If he had to pick a moment for when everything really started to hurt and when he really stopped feeling human that would be it.
They locked him in the back of their armored truck, keeping his hands chained together. Like some kind of max security, prisoner or an animal. Which seems ridiculous because he's just Patrick. He's not dangerous, he's just a person. But they don't seem to think that and Patrick can already feel his throat closing up with panic.
They yank him out of the truck and drag him upstairs. The cultists are screaming on either side of him. Smashing guitars and drum sets in any form of instrument they can get their hand on. Thank lair as Patrick has dragged past. They don't want him there any more than he wants to be there it seems.
When they get him upstairs, Patrick can see the projector on the wall and he pulls harder. He can feel their nails digging into his skin as he tries to yank away. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to be a monster.
“ Stop moving,” hisses one of the vixens. When he doesn't, she pulls out what he can only equate to a larg cigarette lighter. It's a small circular rod and when she pushes one end of it into his side, it burns a perfectly circular hole there through his shirt. Patrick cries out and she dabs him with it again and again until his legs are giving out. He falls into the chair they have set up and they start strapping him down.
“Stop,” he cries. “ Please!”
No one even bothers to tell him to shut up. They just jab him again like he's cattle that needs to be kept in line. Another one of the vixens pulls out her weapon and prods him in the neck with it. He can feel hot tears welling in his eyes. He's burning all over and he wants out. It just hurts so damn much—
They get the nodes hooked up to his head and start the projector. Fire races through him from his head to his fingertips. He cries out as that thing settles around him invading the corners of his mind taking over his limbs. Then Patrick is gone. Lost in the fire and the pain and all the bright noises and loud sounds overwhelm his senses. He can’t stomach this again his body will shut down.He needs it all to just stop, stop, stop.
He's only granted relief, God knows how long later, when Pete is lying in the sand, eyes wide open, and his blood on Patrick's hands.
Patrick is screaming before he even knows what happening. As the light flicks on, the violent stimulation stabs his brain and he can feel the heat rushing over him. It has to be a phantom of the monster but it feels so real. He lurches away from the light trying to get to the bathroom. He knows should be just around the corner, but cold hand wraps around his wrist. Patrick pulls away weakly with the person presses something cold to his neck.
Patrick's sighs at the feeling and sinks back down onto the edge of the bed. The person, that he now recognizes as Pete, sits down next to him keeping the ice pack in place.
“I'm here Trick I'm here. It wasn't real.”
Patrick wines and nods. His throat and his head hurt like a bitch but at least it's quiet. The light is warm but the ice pack is cool and he can feel the cold spreading.
Patrick sits there as the ice pack slowly melts, dripping condensation down his neck, and his breathing starts to even out. His mind settles back into place and he feels a little bit more like himself, like he's the one actually piloting this body.
“Are you okay?” Asks Pete finally pulling away. Patrick nods rubbing at his neck and missing the ice pack even if it's mostly liquid at this point. Pete's hand twitches forward like he wants to reach out and touch Patrick. Which isn't right of course because he's scared of Patrick because Patrick killed him.
Pete clears his throat and Patrick looks over to see tears swelling in Pete's eyes. He can feel his heart twist and his chest. He doesn't want to hurt his best friend.
“Are you sure because it really doesn't seem like it and I'm really worried . None of us know what to do or how to help so I keep sitting here with you but I'm scared. You keep trying to freeze yourself to death and I need something to change because we can't keep doing this. I need you to tell me that it's going to be okay.”
Pete falls silent and Patrick stares at him for a second. Pete's worried for him. Cares about him. He's leaning toward Patrick and it hits Patrick like a truck.
Pete loves contact. Always has. Patrick has been too scared to touch Pete. And Pete isn't scared of Patrick like Patrick thinks he should be. He's been too wrapped up in his own mind to notice.
Patrick puts an arm around Pete wincing at the warmth, but Pete immediately melts against him. That makes it a little bit more bearable. Patrick remembers how much he liked cuddling with Pete in the before times, how comforting the warmth seemed.
“ It's going to be okay,” says Patrick. “ You've been helping a lot Pete, more than you know. I'll get better. I just can't stand—”
“ Being hot? Or even warm?” Patrick stops. “ I'm not stupid Trick. And I've seen the burns.”
Patrick puts a hand on his neck but Pete swats at him.
“I don't care and I don't know full extent of it. I want to obviously but I'll take being able to sit next to you again without you trying to shove me over.”
Patrick winces. Pete is a lot more on top of this than he gives him credit for.
“I'll work on it.”
“and talk to me.”
“And talk to you.”
“Or Andy or Joe or whoever? I don't care. I just want you back. We've all been weird since it happened but it's over and we have to grow or something. Learn to live with what happened.”
“You're right Pete.” Patrick press's a kiss to the top of Pete's head. “You're absolutely right.” Pete practically preens at the words and he's happier than Patrick has seen him in a long time. Maybe it's worth trying to get better.
That's how they end up with the “The Heat-Based Activities to Reclaim Humanity and Autonomy” (phrase coined by Pete).
They sit on the couch at least one night a week to watch movies and slowly work up to Patrick being in the middle, sandwiched between them. Andy starts taking Patrick outside during the day to go on walks in the sun. At first he can only last a couple of minutes outside before he starts hyper ventilating but it slowly starts getting longer. Joe and Patrick have jam sessions on the guitar and they lighten the air conditioning a little bit while it happens, hoping that the guitar will be good enough distraction that Patrick can be used to it without being distressed.
But Pete's heat therapy is probably his favorite, maybe because it's so unconventional. Pete has been showering with him every couple of days or so. Given that Pete is also there, he can’t make the shower freezing because he won’t subject Pete to that. Pete has been gradually increasing the temperature of the showers from lukewarm to bordering on actually warm. Whenever its too much Patrick ducks out from under the spray and Pete holds his hands until he feels better. It is weird and the showers take much longer than normal but its helping. Pete seems to enjoy them even if he spends half the time outside of the water while Patrick tries to get acclimated. Its a very very slow process.
Patrick lays down for the night and Pete climbs into bed next to him. He firdgets, twisting around for a lont time trying to get comfortable and Patrick tries not to chuckle at him. Pete has also gotten into the habit of sleeping next to Patrick in the massive king sized bed. There is enough room that they don’t have to touch if Patrick doesn’t want them to. However this night he is feeling brave and throws a loose arm over Pete. Pete smiles at him and pulls his blanket closer around him. They say goodnight and Pete flips the light off before curling back under Patrick’s arm.
As he watches Pete drift off, Patrick thinks about how he suspects that Pete has been sleeping a little better since they started this little arrangement. His presence brings some comfort to Pete. He grins and lets his eyes fall closed, thinking of movies and daily walks and jam sessions and showers.
When Patrick does all these things with his friends he feels just a little more human and that makes it easier to ignore the fear of turning into a monster. His friends aren’t scared of him and he isn’t a threat. He is just slowly getting better.