fic: hereby declared oblivious by the democratic state of high school, pete/patrick
Title: Hereby Declared Oblivious by the Democratic State of High School
Rating: PG-13
Paring: Pete/Patrick
Word Count: 3355
Disclaimer: So not mine and this is just a work of fiction
Summary: Yearbook A/U, wherein, Patrick is baffled by the meaning of write-in votes and Pete is gleeful.
Beta:
srchxandxdstry srchxandxdstry
A/N: Another self-indulgent piece xD
"Greta, this better be important because I'm losing Patrick time here," Pete says, walking into the multimedia room where Greta asked to meet him after school. Greta is busy pulling books out of boxes, but turns her head to look at Pete.
"Oh, it is," Greta says. She smiles and walks over to Pete, handing him one of the books from the box. Pete takes it, giving her a suspicious look before looking down. In his hands is a copy of the yearbook. The yearbooks aren't meant for distribution until tomorrow.
"Yay,” Pete says unenthusiastically. He gives her an unimpressed look. “I get an early copy of the yearbook," Pete says, completely lack luster.
Not losing her smile, Greta crosses her arms. "Turn it to page 65."
Pete does as told. He stares down at the page, and his lips stretch into an impossibly happy grin. He looks up at Greta, dashing forward to give her a hug.
“Greta this is great!” Greta laughs in response.
“I have to show Patrick, bye!” No sooner are the words out of his mouth then he’s out the door, the smile on his face never faltering.
The shit eating grin Pete has on his face would make Patrick cower in fear. However, a lifetime of years in friendship kind of desensitizes a guy to his best friend’s manic looks.
"Oh my God, do I want to know?" Patrick asks as soon as Pete bounces into his room.
Instead of answering, Pete hands Patrick the yearbook. Patrick takes the offered book and looks at Pete suspiciously.
"An early copy of the year book," Patrick says. Patrick can see Pete vibrating with the amount of glee he must be trying to contain. Patrick shakes his head and thinks Pete should get a fucking medal or at least a blue ribbon for holding back whatever it is Pete wants to tell him.
"I marked a page - open it," he demands.
With a reluctant sigh, Patrick opens the book in his hands to the marked page. He expects to see that embarrassing band picture, the one that Pete ruined when he jumped in at the last second, wrapped Patrick in a tight hug and gave him a big wet kiss on the cheek.
What he is looking at, however, is not that picture. Patrick looks up at Pete, who by this point is almost blue with the effort of containing his glee.
"I don't get it." Patrick looks back down at the page before him and the picture therein, as if it were a difficult puzzle.
The picture itself isn’t what’s puzzling: it’s the two of them; Patrick is sitting down, legs stretched before him, his back resting against a tree. There’s a book in his hand but his face is tilted down, a smile on his lips as he looks down at Pete who has his head on Patrick’s lap and is smiling up at him - the pose is not puzzling at all. Poses like that are daily occurrences, because Pete likes to think Patrick is his own personal pillow. What confuses Patrick is the words above the picture.
Before Patrick can ask any questions, Pete seems to be no longer able to contain his excitement. "Patrick. Patrick. Patrick they love us,” Pete exclaims.
He walks closer to Patrick and wraps him in a tight, side-hug, his face nuzzling Patrick’s neck. Patrick’s response is to tilt his head back to give Pete more room because, well, this is Pete - it’s what he does and if it feels kind of nice, well, then that’s just a bonus for Patrick.
"Umm, is this a joke?" Patrick finally asks. Pete, who had been nipping lightly on Patrick’s ear lobe stops and pulls away.
"Patrick, we got nominated for cutest couple, how is that a joke?" His face is serious if a little hurt.
Patrick sighs, takes the few steps to his bed and sits down. "First off, we weren't even on the ballot. Second, and I think this one is the most important fact, we are not a couple," he states slowly, making sure Pete understands what he’s saying. Not that Patrick would mind but he has given up on that idea - that ship sailed a long time ago, particularly when he realized Pete wasn’t gay, wasn’t even bi.
"Oh ye of little faith. You clearly underestimate our adoring public," Pete says.
Patrick rolls his eyes. “What I want to know is - how did you even pulled this off?" Patrick asks with one hand waving at the opened page in front of him. Pete had to have rigged the ballot somehow, he’s just not sure how he pulled one over Greta the Iron-Fist yearbook editor.
"Trick, I didn't do anything - it was the people, they love us." Upon seeing Patrick’s disbelieving look, Pete groans and takes his phone out and dials a number.
Patrick looks on, confused.
“Tell him, he doesn’t believe me,” Pete says immediately choosing to forgo the normal “hello” niceties and shoves the phone into Patrick’s hand.
“Umm, hello?” Patrick says, unsure of who Pete just called.
“Patrick!” A cheerful voice greets him. He recognizes Greta’s voice. “I take it this means Pete showed you the year book.”
“Yeah?” Patrick admits warily.
“It’s real,” says Greta. “Pete didn’t do anything to rig it. You guys won by a landslide,” she informs him cheerfully. Well there goes Patrick’s theory.
“But we weren’t even on the ballot,” Patrick exclaims, because even though he knows Greta would never allow rigging to go on in her yearbook he still feels doubtful of the outcome.
“I know; you were a write-in vote.” And the sheer delight in her voice makes Patrick be a little suspicious but this is Greta - Greta doesn’t lie.
“But why?” Patrick is so confused it’s not even funny, except to Greta, who is totally chuckling.
“Patrick, how can someone as smart as you be so clueless? Pete, I can understand, but you? People just got tired of you two being oblivious and someone at the dance said something about you two needing it spelled out, so there you go,” Greta says, her tone final.
“Umm, okay,” Patrick says, and gets a dial tone for his troubles. He frowns at the phone before giving it back to Pete, who takes it and slips it back in his pocket.
“Patrick,” Pete says excitedly.
“Pete, we’re not dating.” Patrick runs a hand through his hair, or he tries to but he forgets he’s still wearing his hat so he ends up knocking it off his head and to the floor, where he leaves it.
“Patrick, we totally are,” Pete says eagerly. “We go out on dates,” he explains.
“No, not dates. We just hang out together, a lot, and kind of just by ourselves, totally just as friends,” Patrick trails off. Holy shit, could it be true?
Pete snorts. “Yeah and we hold hands like just friends and we sleep together and cuddle like just friends and we went to Prom together as just friends that’s why we danced with no one else but each other like just friends and we’re applying to the same schools to be together as just friends.”
“Oh,” Patrick kind of sighs in surprise.
“Face it - we’re dating the only thing we haven’t -” Pete stops and slaps his forehead. “Of course.” He rolls his eyes at himself; he goes to stand in front of Patrick and gets down on one knee.
Patrick’s eyes go wide, but Pete just gives him a completely genuine smile, like a real one not his ‘oh this will be a great joke one’ but his ‘wow, Patrick, you’re kind of really awesome, how are you even real’ one, which Patrick is the recipient of at least once a day.
“Patrick, do you want to go out with me?” Pete asks. Patrick blinks and then he smiles because Pete has been his best friend for years, and he can tell when his friend is bull shitting him: Pete isn’t.
Patrick laughs, but it’s not his mean laugh, so Pete’s not worried.
“So, you like me?” Patrick asks, his voice is quiet but he’s smiling, that cute little smile he only gets when he’s really happy. And how can Patrick even ask that - Pete has pretty much adored him since the first day they met.
Before Pete can answer, Patrick’s eyes go wide. “Oh my God, that’s why our moms had us take a billion pictures on prom day. And the reason your cousin sent one invitation for the two of us to her wedding, instead of giving me a separate one, and I thought she was doing it to save money.”
Pete only nods at him indulgently. “Holy shit, we are a couple,” Patrick says with a little hysterical laugh.
“Yeah,” Pete agrees, his tone light. He gets serious and shifts on his knee. “But, you’re not like, opposing are you? Because it’s, like, way too late to tell me I can’t have my Patrick.”
Patrick looks thoughtful for a second.
“Well, you did ask so nicely,” Patrick says, and now that he knows that Pete does like him like that he does nothing to fight off the giddy feeling in his stomach or the stupid smile he knows he must be sporting.
“You know,” Patrick begins casually, “there is something we haven’t done that couples do.”
Pete cocks his head to the side in the way that Patrick knows means ‘go on’.
Patrick takes a deep breath and says, “We haven’t really kissed.”
Kissing is awesome; kissing Patrick will be beyond that. Pete is so excited for this kissing prospect, that he scrambles up off the floor as quickly as he can and kind of trips on his way up. He ends up taking a hold of Patrick’s shoulders to keep his balance. Patrick, not expecting the sudden added weight, falls back - Pete landing on top of him.
Patrick is laughing, and Pete looks down at Patrick’s smiling face. He can work with this. He smiles. “I’m going to kiss you now.” That’s all the warning Patrick gets before Pete leans down and gives him a tiny sweet kiss on his lips.
Patrick sighs into the kiss - it’s nice and sweet and gentle but he wants to kiss Pete for real. He opens his mouth and licks the bottom of Pete’s lip, and Pete sucks in a breath. He pulls back and looks down at Patrick.
“I’m trying to be a gentleman,” he says kind of breathlessly, and Patrick rolls his eyes. “If you keep doing that, all bets are off,” he warns.
Patrick snorts because Pete can be such an idiot sometimes. Instead of informing Pete that he’s being an idiot, he says, “I don’t want you to be a gentleman. I want you to kiss me like you want to.” Patrick licks his lips.
He watches fascinated as Pete follows the movement of his tongue with rapt attention. It’s like something snaps inside of Pete and before Patrick can finish running his tongue over his bottom lip, Pete is leaning down, capturing Patrick’s tongue and just delving into his mouth.
Finally, Patrick thinks, as he tilts his head up to deepen the kiss. Pete kisses with a possessive devotion; he presses his entire body flush against Patrick. Pete bends his arms at the elbows, dropping down closer to Patrick; he moves his hands closer to Patrick’s face, cradling his head. It makes Patrick feel safe and hot all over.
They kiss for what seems like forever. When Pete finally gets too heavy on top of Patrick to be comfortable, they switch to lying on their sides. Pete throws one leg over Patrick’s hip and Patrick slips his leg between Pete’s.
“Such a good idea,” Pete states before eagerly finding Patrick’s mouth again. Patrick kisses back with equal eagerness; he presses closer to Pete, bringing their bodies impossibly closer.
Patrick can’t believe how good this feels, how right they fit together, how natural it is to lay next to his best friend and kiss him and touch him and make him moan, swallowing the sounds into his mouth and feel the vibrations from his throat all the way down to his toes.
Pete seems to share the same sentiment if the way he’s touching Patrick everywhere he can reach is any indication. Pete seems determined to find out what makes Patrick bite down on Pete’s lip and push closer to him.
It’s a long while later that heavy kissing turns into lazy pecks. They’re still in the same, side lying position, and Pete nips Patrick’s bottom lip and slowly pulls back, giving Patrick a content smile.
Patrick smiles back and runs his hand down Pete’s forearm. “So, how long have you liked me?” Patrick asks, his hand now trailing to Pete’s back, tracing slow figure eights.
Pete sighs and closes his eyes. “Remember when we were seven and I got my tonsils taken out and the nurses had to carry you out of my room kicking and screaming so they could take me into the operating room?”
Patrick tucks his head under Pete’s chin and nods. He does remember. That was the most horrible day of his life. At that age, his opinion of hospitals was not a good one and he had truly believed that Pete was going to die.
He feels Pete kiss the top of his head before he continues. “I remember thinking that I had to pretend to be brave so you wouldn’t be upset, but inside I was really scared too - but not about having the surgery. What scared the shit out of me was how easily they took you away from me,” Pete says, his voice sounded strained and his arms tightened around Patrick. Patrick returned the embrace, placing a tiny kiss on Pete’s throat.
Pete sighs and relaxes again before he says, “Then I went into surgery and when I woke up, you were there sleeping in my bed. I felt so relieved and I just remember thinking that I had to find a way of never letting anyone take you away again; I had to think of a way of keeping you with me always. At the time my knowledge of marriage consisted of promising to be with someone you loved all your life and I thought there’s no one I’ll ever love for all my life but Patrick. That’s how I decided that if I wanted to keep you with me forever, there was no better answer then to marry you. And so when you woke up I told you I was going to marry you,” Pete finishes with a small shrug and a shy smile.
Patrick chuckles. “I thought you were drowsy from the anesthesia when you said that.”
“Well, yeah but I meant it,” Pete says.
“So you knew when you were seven that you were in love with me?” Patrick asks.
“Yes.” The word is spoken with such finality that there’s no way Patrick can doubt Pete’s sincerity.
“Oh,” Patrick says and smiles, leaning forward to kiss Pete lightly on the lips.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Patrick asks.
“I was waiting for you to catch up.”
“Oh,” Patrick says again, because Pete had never been a gentleman except, apparently, only when it comes to Patrick.
“When did you know?” Pete asks.
Patrick shrugs. “I don’t know - I’ve always loved you, it’s just changed through the years so that I can’t pin-point the moment I started thinking I wouldn’t really mind if you were more than my friend.”
Pete is now tracing Patrick’s red lips with his thumb. Patrick likes the feeling of Pete’s rough calloused finger on his lips and without warning he sucks Pete’s thumb into his mouth.
Pete gasps, loudly, and Patrick smiles around Pete’s thumb, before he teases the tip with his tongue. Pete takes a sharp breath in, pulls his thumb out of Patrick’s mouth and crushes their lips together. His hand goes to the small of Patrick’s back to pull him forward so he can grind into him.
“The things I want to do to your mouth,” Pete groans, pulling back and kissing under Patrick’s ear. Patrick shivers with the thought that he wants to see, feel and hear the things that Pete wants to do to his mouth.
“I -” Patrick stutters.
“Patrick!” Patrick’s mom calls from the first floor of the house. Patrick groans.
“Yeah mom?” he calls back, and Pete, the bastard, has moved on to open mouthed kisses on his neck.
“Is Pete staying for dinner?” she asks.
“Yes I am, Mrs. Stump,” Pete answers, pulling away from Patrick’s neck.
“You boys wash your hands and come down, then.”
“Okay,” Patrick yells one more time. He looks at Pete and smiles for what feels like the billionth time since Pete barged into his room.
“Thwarted,” Pete pouts.
“For now,” Patrick replies before disentangling from Pete. He stands by the bed and stretches his muscles - his back cracks when he stretches his hands over his head.
He watches Pete sit on the edge of the bed. There is a quiet stillness to Pete as he watches Patrick stretch.
“I meant it you know,” Pete says. “I know we’re still young but you’re it Patrick, there is no one else for me,” he confesses. Patrick stares at him; Pete ducks his head, not meeting Patrick’s eyes and starts to nervously poke at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. Pete only fiddles with things when he’s unsure of something.
Patrick feels warm all over, and he tries not to rolls his eyes because that would be mean - instead, he walks to stand in front of Pete, he shuffles his feet until the toes of his shoes lineup perfectly with Pete’s, and he stands there and he stands there until Pete looks up.
“What makes you think I don’t feel the same way?” Patrick says softly. The answering smile that blooms on Pete’s face may have possibly just made Patrick’s heart flutter. He almost wants to laugh at himself for how long it took him to realize he was in love with Pete.
“Patrick, Pete!” Patrick’s mom calls.
“Come on,” Pete says, standing up. He gives Patrick one last kiss before snatching Patrick’s hat from the floor and placing it back on his head.
“Thanks,” Patrick says. On their way out, Pete uses one of his hands to hold Patrick’s, which does not make Patrick want to bat his eyelashes like a school girl, thank you very much, and with the other he snatches up the yearbook.
“What are you doing with that?” Patrick asks his voice high pitched.
“I’m going to show your mom - she’s going to be so proud,” Pete tells him before pulling him along. Patrick groans and reluctantly follows Pete down the stairs. Patrick’s mom doesn’t even bat an eyelash at their joint hands - she only smiles and rolls her eyes.
After dinner, Pete unveils the yearbook with a lavish sweep of his hand. Pete ushers Patrick’s mom into the living room, sits next to her and pulls Patrick down next to him. Pete shows Patrick’s mom the picture of the two of them along with the accolade they received while bragging how they weren’t even on the ballot.
Patrick’s mom does look proud of them. And the rest of the evening is passed by Pete showing Patrick’s mom all the awesome shots of Pete&Patrick (because that’s what reads under every picture they’re in together) in the yearbook, and much to Patrick’s horror, the band picture does make it in. Pete says he’s going to cut it out and frame it and hang it along with the cutest couple one.
Patrick casually, under his breath so his mom doesn’t hear, tells Pete if he wants to get laid any time this century he won’t. Pete, contrary to popular belief, is not an idiot and doesn’t mention it the rest of the evening.