Brooding
Title: Brooding
Author: Viv
Genre: humor, angst, romance
Rating: PG
Fandom: Fall Out Boy [music - band]
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
Disclaimer: Patriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick, my adorably babbling nerd, where art thou? *weeps* (The waiter is a figment of my imagination. *swoons*)
Summary: What happens when someone's boyfriend seems to have forgotten their anniversary? You get a very seriously pissed off Patrick. [Standalone]
Dedication: lovestephenking
So you were brooding.
Why?
Because your loving boyfriend had left an hour earlier, give or take a few minutes, to hang out with some friends of his for the day.
No, it wasn’t the fact that he had gone out without you. In fact, you usually encouraged him to accept his friends invitations and sometimes, after he insisted (and pleaded and begged), you would also tag along. His buddies were rather nice, fun and harmless to be with, after all.
Nope, it wasn’t because he had only told you at eleven AM (right after you’ve woken up to find his warm body gone from bed), informing you that he was going to see some friends and would be back later before he left in a hurry.
Nope.
But you were still pissed off.
Because he left, period.
Your perfectly thoughtful, sweet, loving and damn gorgeous boyfriend had left you to go out.
On your two years anniversary.
BASTARD!
Your stupid boyfriend had forgotten your two years anniversary.
You are so gonna be sleeping on the couch by yourself for the next month! Cold, cold nights by yourself on that couch! Yes buddy, you can count on me to keep you out of our bedroom for an entire month! That’ll teach you to forget our anniversary!
You buried yourself deeper underneath the warm blanket of your bed and hugged a soft pillow to you, allowing your nose to nuzzle it and before taking a deep breath.
His scent…
… BASTARD!
And suddenly your night table shook as a song started playing. You looked up and saw your cellphone blinking and vibrating. Groaning, you reached over and grabbed it, flicking it open.
“What?”
“… Patrick?”
“What!”
“Well hello, sleeping beauty. Did I wake you up or something?” the familiar voice on the other side of the line was laughing but you clearly heard the concern underlying it.
A small parcel of guilt settled in you for and you mumbled a few apologies for snapping.
“You didn’t wake me up.” you added dully.
“I’m guessing Pete’s not around?”
“…”
“Patrick?”
“You want a cookie for guessing that right?”
“Uuuuh, you're starting to act like Pete... So anyway, Andy and I are thinking of going out for lunch. You wanna join us?”
“…”
“It’s on me.”
“Okay.”
“Alright then, see you in fifteen in front of the diner? I’ve missed the food there, with our three months of touring.”
“Yeah.”
“K. Bring a smile with you, will ya? Bye.”
“Uhn.”
You closed you cell, dropping it of on your night table and finally dragged yourself out of bed. Stumbling your way to the bathroom, you managed to grab your glasses, a clean white cotton t-shirt, a red short-sleeved shirt, some white socks and a pair of loose dark blue jeans from your closet.
Five minutes later you found yourself walking out of the bathroom fully awake and dressed as you took the dark grey jacket hanging off the couch of your living room and put it on before heading back into your bedroom to get your keys and cellphone.
On your way out of your apartment, you pulled on your (rather battered - I really need a new pair.) black chucks and left your place after locking the door behind you.
It took you another eight minutes to walk to the diner a few streets from your apartment and when you got there, Joe was already waiting and waved at you enthusiastically when he spotted you heading in his direction.
“Hey! Right on time!”
“Yeah.”
“Andy just went in to get us a table. Come on.”
“Hmm.”
Weaving your way through the crowded diner, you eventually settled inside a stall and slid onto the comfy red bench to find yourself staring at a pair of eyes half-hidden by thick-rimmed glasses and long messy brown hair.
Andy grinned at you before distributing out the three menus that he was given by a waiter there, a guy in his late adolescence and a good friend of yours while said person made his way over your table, a notepad in hand and a bright smile on his still boyish face. Dark brown curls lightly swayed at he nodded at you, his grin only widening and his half-covered blue eyes glinting mischievously.
“Hey! It’s been a while guys. How was touring?”
“It was great! We’re so dead right now though. Dirty about passed out the last night of the tour and he hadn’t even finished his first beer of the evening!” your drummer amiably answered.
“So where is he? And Pete?”
BASTARD!
You instantly shredded a napkin to pieces underneath Joe, Andy and the waiter’s bemused gazes.
“Is Patrick alright?”
Joe waved a hand in dismissal and shook his head in a bored manner, though you could see the amused gleam in his seemingly perpetually sleepy eyes.
“He’s fine. Just woke up on the wrong side of bed.”
You forced yourself to smile and casually nodded at his words, restraining your urge to kick him underneath the table.
Joe grinned and turned back to the waiter who decided that you did seem perfectly fine.
“So how long are you guys gonna be staying?”
“Oh, about…”
And you tuned out the rest of the conversation.
It’s not as if it would seem rude of you anyway. Most of the time, Pete, Andy and Joe did most of the talking while you usually agreed or added a few details here and there. It wasn’t rare in an interview for you to be silent during the almost entirety of it. And yet, strangely enough, you weren’t branded the quiet one of the band.
Weird.
Joe was branded as the sleepy one. Expressionless. And a bit slow at time too…
Andy was… Andy? Calm, polite and easygoing Andy. Yep.
Pete was always branded as the moody one.
…
BASTARD! HOW DARE YOU FORGET OUR ANNIVERSARY!
And you ripped another innocent napkin.
“Patrick.”
“… ?”
“Your order.”
“Oh.”
And you mechanically gave the waiter your order, grinning at the end to pretend that you were fine when he raised an eyebrow.
“And please refrain yourself from attacking the poor napkins. We have a limited stock for today and it seems that we’re gonna be needing all of it, with all these customers.” he smiled.
You grinned back sheepishly (and this time, sincerely), your cheeks lightly coloring at your friends growing amusement.
“Sorry.” you mumbled.
Four hours later and you were finally back home from the diner, padding around the kitchen in socks.
Joe and Andy had simply refused to let you go and, to your growing annoyance, even the waiter boy (and the boss and the rest of the employees) seemed intent on keeping you there. You had rejected numerous offers at participating in their (coke) drinking game, their “let’s see how many pieces of cheesecake you can eat” game, and their “how much mustard can you ingest” game, just to mention a few. By the time you had managed to pry yourself away from them, Andy and Joe were both nursing bellies that bulged out of their jeans and stomach aches while the rest of the diner people were suffering from stomach cramps from laughing so much.
Idiotic, stupid, immature fools.
Worst, your boyfriend would have probably participated too, had he been there.
And knowing him, he would have won too.
…
FORGETFUL BASTARD!
You punched the yellow and blue cushion on the black couch - your boyfriend really had no taste (unless when it came to clothing and the likes).
A pair of arms wrapped themselves around your shoulders, startling you.
You punched the person behind you - your boyfriend really had no right to give you a heart attack (unless it was in bed and implied both of you being naked).
“Paaaaaaaat! What was that for?!”
You punched him again.
“Hey!”
“I told you not to call me Pat!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… and why did the fuck did you have to punch me anyway?”
You crossed your arms and stared at him before answering flatly: “You scared me.”
“… Oh. Sorry,” he stuck out his bottom lip and exaggeratedly widened his brown eyes to give you his trademark innocent puppy face, “forgive me?”
So cute!
…
NO!
“Bastard!”
“Huh?” he gave you a wounded expression.
“Asshole!”
“!!!”
“Idiotic, stupid, immature fool!”
“Hey! I resent that!”
“Tasteless moron!”
“Hey! Are you saying that I have no taste when I have you as my boyfriend?!”
“Moody prick of Fall Out Boy!”
“HEY! WHAT THE F-”
“FORGETFUL BASTARD!”
“… Oh.”
“… !”
“So that what it was about.”
You turned away, not bothering to look at him and yet expecting him to elaborate on his theory.
“I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you good morning today, but I was in a hurry.”
You stomped off to your bedroom.
“… I’m sorry I didn’t bother calling you while I was out like I usually do?”
You took off your jacket and threw it on the back of a chair on your way after fishing your cell and keys out of its pockets.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you at what time I was coming back? Wait. I did.”
You dropped your cell and keys on the bed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t… eeer, raise the toilet seat?”
You quickly pulled off your red shirt and threw it behind you, a muffled ‘eep!’ signalling that you had effectively hit your target.
“I’m sorry that I seem like I had forgotten our second year anniversary.” he chuckled.
You froze.
And promptly whirled around and gave him a hard smack on the shoulder, glowering at him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t spend the day with you!”
Another smack.
Your boyfriend arms started flailing around, his chocolatey orbs wide in panic.
“I didn’t forget, I swear I didn’t!”
You growled at him.
Your older boyfriend seemed to sense that he was safe. Slowly, he lowered his arms and sighed softly.
You smacked him again.
He winced and rubbed his shoulder.
“The reason I went out today was because- well… I got something for you. I was supposed to get it yesterday but there was some problem with the delivery so… yeah, I had to go back today.”
You kept staring at him, eyebrows still raised as you waited for him to further his explanation. He started fidgeting under your scrutinizing gaze.
“And I-”
“You left me alone and then left me alone, again, to endure those morons at the diner?!”
“Huh?”
“DO YOU KNOW WHAT I WENT THROUGH TODAY?! I JUST REALIZED THAT SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS AND BANDMATES ARE COMPLETE MORONS!”
“Uh… Patrick-”
“Don’t ‘Patrick’ me!”
“I asked them to keep you busy.”
“… Excuse me?”
Your voice was dangerously low.
“Ah- eeeep! Don’t be mad! I had to, I didn’t want you to wait for me alone at home!”
“…” you glared at him.
“Look, baby, I swear I didn’t forget our anniversary.”
You threw a pillow at him.
“Patriiiiiiiick!” he whined, before rushing over and grabbing your hands, preventing you from grabbing the remaining pillow on the bed. “Listen to me!”
“I’m listening!” you barked.
He shrunk back in fear.
“What is it?!”
He looked down and blushed as he mumbled something.
“WHAT?!”
He blinked and his gaze snapped back up at you.
And there was a large sweat drop running down his forehead.
“Pete…”
Mumble, mumble.
“PETE!”
“Here!”
He quickly shoved something in your hands and ran out of the room.
You blinked, you anger evaporating to give place to confusion before you finally looked down at your hands.
And saw that you were holding a small bag - a small pink, no, make that fuchsia bag (Yep, your boyfriend really had no taste.) with canary yellow, curly ribbons tied to it.
…
He. Is. So. Gay.
And finally you slowly opened the back and carefully took out the small box inside it. You were suddenly flustered and you heartbeat accelerated.
A small box.
A small blue box.
A small blue velvet box.
A small empty blue velvet box.
… !!!
“PETE!”
“Yes!”
“HERE! NOW!”
“Yes!”
And your boyfriend came running back into the bedroom.
You showed him the opened box.
“…”
Your eye twitched uncontrollably.
“… Pete. Is this some kind of joke? Because if it’s the case, you’re gonna be sleeping, not on the couch, but on the cold kitchen floor for the next, not one month, but three months by yourself.”
And he started looking through his pockets, all the while babbling on and on.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I have I have it somewhere, I know it! It’s- it’s- it’s- ah, right HERE!”
Your jaw hit the floor at the glimmer in his hand and your boyfriend instantly launched himself at you, sending you both sprawled across the bed, with his body over yours. He buried his nose into the crook of your neck.
“Mweaseburymee.”
You blinked. “Uh?”
He raised his head and met your gaze dead on, his voice slightly quivering and a blush staining his cheeks.
“Please marry me?”
“…”
He gulped audibly.
“…”
And you sobbed against his chest.
“Patrick?”
“You- you- you- BASTARD!”
“P-”
“I went through a horrible, horrible day just so that you could get a ring to propose to me?!”
“I-”
“You made me think you forgot our anniversary!”
“I-”
“I won’t forgive you!”
“But-”
“Unless you propose properly!”
“I- !”
Your boyfriend opened his mouth repeatedly in shock before finally getting off of you and tugging you up in a sitting position as he lowered himself in front of you, on one knee, the redness on his cheeks intensifying.
“Pat, would you-”
You smacked him on the head to which he responded by swaying his head around for a moment before recovering.
“Patrick, would you-”
“WITH THE RING!” you roared.
He cowered in the corner of the room for a few second before slowly edging back towards you and repositioning himself and holding up a silver band.
“Patrick…”
“…”
“Patrick, would you make me the happiest man in the universe and give me the honor to be your hus-”
“YESYESYESYES!” you squealed and jumped into his arms, glee evident in your green eyes and on your pale face.
A soft sigh of relief was breathed beside your ear and you smile your first genuine smile of the day as your boyfriend-now-fiancé tightened his arms around you before he pulled away and slipped the ring on your finger before intertwining your fingers with his darker ones.
You grinned giddily at the beautiful golden engravings on it and felt your fiancé smiling warmly at you as he leaned closer again, nuzzling your temple with his nose.
“I love you, Patrick.”
“I love you, you moody bastard.”
“Who’s the moody one today?”
“It’s your fault! You know I’m usually not like this!”
“… True. So where’s my gift?”
As a response, you disentangle yourself from him and reached for you night table, pulling its drawer, before fishing out a small black box and handing it to him.
When your boyfriend realized what it meant, he simply laughed and you fondly gazed at him as he opened the box and slipped on the golden ring that you knew would perfectly complement his skin tone. You edged back towards him, and he looked up, smiling adoringly at you, his face almost childish.
Pete kissed you and echoes of laughter rang in your apartment for the rest of the evening and late into the night.
So maybe he wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch by himself after all.
---
October 10, 2005
[edit]
a little something extra: 1rst page. You can leave a comment for that thing here or at the lj where it's posted. :)
Author: Viv
Genre: humor, angst, romance
Rating: PG
Fandom: Fall Out Boy [music - band]
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
Disclaimer: Patriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick, my adorably babbling nerd, where art thou? *weeps* (The waiter is a figment of my imagination. *swoons*)
Summary: What happens when someone's boyfriend seems to have forgotten their anniversary? You get a very seriously pissed off Patrick. [Standalone]
Dedication: lovestephenking
So you were brooding.
Why?
Because your loving boyfriend had left an hour earlier, give or take a few minutes, to hang out with some friends of his for the day.
No, it wasn’t the fact that he had gone out without you. In fact, you usually encouraged him to accept his friends invitations and sometimes, after he insisted (and pleaded and begged), you would also tag along. His buddies were rather nice, fun and harmless to be with, after all.
Nope, it wasn’t because he had only told you at eleven AM (right after you’ve woken up to find his warm body gone from bed), informing you that he was going to see some friends and would be back later before he left in a hurry.
Nope.
But you were still pissed off.
Because he left, period.
Your perfectly thoughtful, sweet, loving and damn gorgeous boyfriend had left you to go out.
On your two years anniversary.
BASTARD!
Your stupid boyfriend had forgotten your two years anniversary.
You are so gonna be sleeping on the couch by yourself for the next month! Cold, cold nights by yourself on that couch! Yes buddy, you can count on me to keep you out of our bedroom for an entire month! That’ll teach you to forget our anniversary!
You buried yourself deeper underneath the warm blanket of your bed and hugged a soft pillow to you, allowing your nose to nuzzle it and before taking a deep breath.
His scent…
… BASTARD!
And suddenly your night table shook as a song started playing. You looked up and saw your cellphone blinking and vibrating. Groaning, you reached over and grabbed it, flicking it open.
“What?”
“… Patrick?”
“What!”
“Well hello, sleeping beauty. Did I wake you up or something?” the familiar voice on the other side of the line was laughing but you clearly heard the concern underlying it.
A small parcel of guilt settled in you for and you mumbled a few apologies for snapping.
“You didn’t wake me up.” you added dully.
“I’m guessing Pete’s not around?”
“…”
“Patrick?”
“You want a cookie for guessing that right?”
“Uuuuh, you're starting to act like Pete... So anyway, Andy and I are thinking of going out for lunch. You wanna join us?”
“…”
“It’s on me.”
“Okay.”
“Alright then, see you in fifteen in front of the diner? I’ve missed the food there, with our three months of touring.”
“Yeah.”
“K. Bring a smile with you, will ya? Bye.”
“Uhn.”
You closed you cell, dropping it of on your night table and finally dragged yourself out of bed. Stumbling your way to the bathroom, you managed to grab your glasses, a clean white cotton t-shirt, a red short-sleeved shirt, some white socks and a pair of loose dark blue jeans from your closet.
Five minutes later you found yourself walking out of the bathroom fully awake and dressed as you took the dark grey jacket hanging off the couch of your living room and put it on before heading back into your bedroom to get your keys and cellphone.
On your way out of your apartment, you pulled on your (rather battered - I really need a new pair.) black chucks and left your place after locking the door behind you.
It took you another eight minutes to walk to the diner a few streets from your apartment and when you got there, Joe was already waiting and waved at you enthusiastically when he spotted you heading in his direction.
“Hey! Right on time!”
“Yeah.”
“Andy just went in to get us a table. Come on.”
“Hmm.”
Weaving your way through the crowded diner, you eventually settled inside a stall and slid onto the comfy red bench to find yourself staring at a pair of eyes half-hidden by thick-rimmed glasses and long messy brown hair.
Andy grinned at you before distributing out the three menus that he was given by a waiter there, a guy in his late adolescence and a good friend of yours while said person made his way over your table, a notepad in hand and a bright smile on his still boyish face. Dark brown curls lightly swayed at he nodded at you, his grin only widening and his half-covered blue eyes glinting mischievously.
“Hey! It’s been a while guys. How was touring?”
“It was great! We’re so dead right now though. Dirty about passed out the last night of the tour and he hadn’t even finished his first beer of the evening!” your drummer amiably answered.
“So where is he? And Pete?”
BASTARD!
You instantly shredded a napkin to pieces underneath Joe, Andy and the waiter’s bemused gazes.
“Is Patrick alright?”
Joe waved a hand in dismissal and shook his head in a bored manner, though you could see the amused gleam in his seemingly perpetually sleepy eyes.
“He’s fine. Just woke up on the wrong side of bed.”
You forced yourself to smile and casually nodded at his words, restraining your urge to kick him underneath the table.
Joe grinned and turned back to the waiter who decided that you did seem perfectly fine.
“So how long are you guys gonna be staying?”
“Oh, about…”
And you tuned out the rest of the conversation.
It’s not as if it would seem rude of you anyway. Most of the time, Pete, Andy and Joe did most of the talking while you usually agreed or added a few details here and there. It wasn’t rare in an interview for you to be silent during the almost entirety of it. And yet, strangely enough, you weren’t branded the quiet one of the band.
Weird.
Joe was branded as the sleepy one. Expressionless. And a bit slow at time too…
Andy was… Andy? Calm, polite and easygoing Andy. Yep.
Pete was always branded as the moody one.
…
BASTARD! HOW DARE YOU FORGET OUR ANNIVERSARY!
And you ripped another innocent napkin.
“Patrick.”
“… ?”
“Your order.”
“Oh.”
And you mechanically gave the waiter your order, grinning at the end to pretend that you were fine when he raised an eyebrow.
“And please refrain yourself from attacking the poor napkins. We have a limited stock for today and it seems that we’re gonna be needing all of it, with all these customers.” he smiled.
You grinned back sheepishly (and this time, sincerely), your cheeks lightly coloring at your friends growing amusement.
“Sorry.” you mumbled.
Four hours later and you were finally back home from the diner, padding around the kitchen in socks.
Joe and Andy had simply refused to let you go and, to your growing annoyance, even the waiter boy (and the boss and the rest of the employees) seemed intent on keeping you there. You had rejected numerous offers at participating in their (coke) drinking game, their “let’s see how many pieces of cheesecake you can eat” game, and their “how much mustard can you ingest” game, just to mention a few. By the time you had managed to pry yourself away from them, Andy and Joe were both nursing bellies that bulged out of their jeans and stomach aches while the rest of the diner people were suffering from stomach cramps from laughing so much.
Idiotic, stupid, immature fools.
Worst, your boyfriend would have probably participated too, had he been there.
And knowing him, he would have won too.
…
FORGETFUL BASTARD!
You punched the yellow and blue cushion on the black couch - your boyfriend really had no taste (unless when it came to clothing and the likes).
A pair of arms wrapped themselves around your shoulders, startling you.
You punched the person behind you - your boyfriend really had no right to give you a heart attack (unless it was in bed and implied both of you being naked).
“Paaaaaaaat! What was that for?!”
You punched him again.
“Hey!”
“I told you not to call me Pat!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… and why did the fuck did you have to punch me anyway?”
You crossed your arms and stared at him before answering flatly: “You scared me.”
“… Oh. Sorry,” he stuck out his bottom lip and exaggeratedly widened his brown eyes to give you his trademark innocent puppy face, “forgive me?”
So cute!
…
NO!
“Bastard!”
“Huh?” he gave you a wounded expression.
“Asshole!”
“!!!”
“Idiotic, stupid, immature fool!”
“Hey! I resent that!”
“Tasteless moron!”
“Hey! Are you saying that I have no taste when I have you as my boyfriend?!”
“Moody prick of Fall Out Boy!”
“HEY! WHAT THE F-”
“FORGETFUL BASTARD!”
“… Oh.”
“… !”
“So that what it was about.”
You turned away, not bothering to look at him and yet expecting him to elaborate on his theory.
“I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you good morning today, but I was in a hurry.”
You stomped off to your bedroom.
“… I’m sorry I didn’t bother calling you while I was out like I usually do?”
You took off your jacket and threw it on the back of a chair on your way after fishing your cell and keys out of its pockets.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you at what time I was coming back? Wait. I did.”
You dropped your cell and keys on the bed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t… eeer, raise the toilet seat?”
You quickly pulled off your red shirt and threw it behind you, a muffled ‘eep!’ signalling that you had effectively hit your target.
“I’m sorry that I seem like I had forgotten our second year anniversary.” he chuckled.
You froze.
And promptly whirled around and gave him a hard smack on the shoulder, glowering at him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t spend the day with you!”
Another smack.
Your boyfriend arms started flailing around, his chocolatey orbs wide in panic.
“I didn’t forget, I swear I didn’t!”
You growled at him.
Your older boyfriend seemed to sense that he was safe. Slowly, he lowered his arms and sighed softly.
You smacked him again.
He winced and rubbed his shoulder.
“The reason I went out today was because- well… I got something for you. I was supposed to get it yesterday but there was some problem with the delivery so… yeah, I had to go back today.”
You kept staring at him, eyebrows still raised as you waited for him to further his explanation. He started fidgeting under your scrutinizing gaze.
“And I-”
“You left me alone and then left me alone, again, to endure those morons at the diner?!”
“Huh?”
“DO YOU KNOW WHAT I WENT THROUGH TODAY?! I JUST REALIZED THAT SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS AND BANDMATES ARE COMPLETE MORONS!”
“Uh… Patrick-”
“Don’t ‘Patrick’ me!”
“I asked them to keep you busy.”
“… Excuse me?”
Your voice was dangerously low.
“Ah- eeeep! Don’t be mad! I had to, I didn’t want you to wait for me alone at home!”
“…” you glared at him.
“Look, baby, I swear I didn’t forget our anniversary.”
You threw a pillow at him.
“Patriiiiiiiick!” he whined, before rushing over and grabbing your hands, preventing you from grabbing the remaining pillow on the bed. “Listen to me!”
“I’m listening!” you barked.
He shrunk back in fear.
“What is it?!”
He looked down and blushed as he mumbled something.
“WHAT?!”
He blinked and his gaze snapped back up at you.
And there was a large sweat drop running down his forehead.
“Pete…”
Mumble, mumble.
“PETE!”
“Here!”
He quickly shoved something in your hands and ran out of the room.
You blinked, you anger evaporating to give place to confusion before you finally looked down at your hands.
And saw that you were holding a small bag - a small pink, no, make that fuchsia bag (Yep, your boyfriend really had no taste.) with canary yellow, curly ribbons tied to it.
…
He. Is. So. Gay.
And finally you slowly opened the back and carefully took out the small box inside it. You were suddenly flustered and you heartbeat accelerated.
A small box.
A small blue box.
A small blue velvet box.
A small empty blue velvet box.
… !!!
“PETE!”
“Yes!”
“HERE! NOW!”
“Yes!”
And your boyfriend came running back into the bedroom.
You showed him the opened box.
“…”
Your eye twitched uncontrollably.
“… Pete. Is this some kind of joke? Because if it’s the case, you’re gonna be sleeping, not on the couch, but on the cold kitchen floor for the next, not one month, but three months by yourself.”
And he started looking through his pockets, all the while babbling on and on.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I have I have it somewhere, I know it! It’s- it’s- it’s- ah, right HERE!”
Your jaw hit the floor at the glimmer in his hand and your boyfriend instantly launched himself at you, sending you both sprawled across the bed, with his body over yours. He buried his nose into the crook of your neck.
“Mweaseburymee.”
You blinked. “Uh?”
He raised his head and met your gaze dead on, his voice slightly quivering and a blush staining his cheeks.
“Please marry me?”
“…”
He gulped audibly.
“…”
And you sobbed against his chest.
“Patrick?”
“You- you- you- BASTARD!”
“P-”
“I went through a horrible, horrible day just so that you could get a ring to propose to me?!”
“I-”
“You made me think you forgot our anniversary!”
“I-”
“I won’t forgive you!”
“But-”
“Unless you propose properly!”
“I- !”
Your boyfriend opened his mouth repeatedly in shock before finally getting off of you and tugging you up in a sitting position as he lowered himself in front of you, on one knee, the redness on his cheeks intensifying.
“Pat, would you-”
You smacked him on the head to which he responded by swaying his head around for a moment before recovering.
“Patrick, would you-”
“WITH THE RING!” you roared.
He cowered in the corner of the room for a few second before slowly edging back towards you and repositioning himself and holding up a silver band.
“Patrick…”
“…”
“Patrick, would you make me the happiest man in the universe and give me the honor to be your hus-”
“YESYESYESYES!” you squealed and jumped into his arms, glee evident in your green eyes and on your pale face.
A soft sigh of relief was breathed beside your ear and you smile your first genuine smile of the day as your boyfriend-now-fiancé tightened his arms around you before he pulled away and slipped the ring on your finger before intertwining your fingers with his darker ones.
You grinned giddily at the beautiful golden engravings on it and felt your fiancé smiling warmly at you as he leaned closer again, nuzzling your temple with his nose.
“I love you, Patrick.”
“I love you, you moody bastard.”
“Who’s the moody one today?”
“It’s your fault! You know I’m usually not like this!”
“… True. So where’s my gift?”
As a response, you disentangle yourself from him and reached for you night table, pulling its drawer, before fishing out a small black box and handing it to him.
When your boyfriend realized what it meant, he simply laughed and you fondly gazed at him as he opened the box and slipped on the golden ring that you knew would perfectly complement his skin tone. You edged back towards him, and he looked up, smiling adoringly at you, his face almost childish.
Pete kissed you and echoes of laughter rang in your apartment for the rest of the evening and late into the night.
So maybe he wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch by himself after all.
---
October 10, 2005
[edit]
a little something extra: 1rst page. You can leave a comment for that thing here or at the lj where it's posted. :)