I Wanna Hold Your Hand, for the slutrick Patrick!Fest
Title: I Wanna Hold Your Hand
Author: becomingblurred
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Word Count: 1172
Rating: PG
Summary: And when I touch you I feel happy inside...
Disclaimer: I don't own Fall Out Boy or "I Wanna Hold Your Hand", which is by The Beatles.
Author's Notes: For slutrick Patrick!Fest, prompt #31 ("Pete/Patrick: I want a songfic based off of "I Want to Hold Your Hand" by the Beatles (I'm a sucker for that song). And I want angst. Lotsa ANGST. I want to cry, that's how much angst I want. XD"). While I kind of had a hard time writing this (nanowrimo and dramarama), I really do hope you enjoy this, even though there isn't a lot of angst, and it really isn't that much of a songfic aside from the fact it's based off the song/was listened to while writing it.
I Wanna Hold Your Hand
By Donna
The city street was open, echoing people’s actions from the night before. Patrick kicked an advertisement from a club aside as Pete and he walked side-by-side down the sidewalk. Pete gleefully pointed out the new Clandestine store and lead Patrick inside. Pete pointed out every little thing, smiling as wide as he could without looking like he was eating shit. “Here, take this,” Pete said, handing him a new polo, “I dunno if I should clear that with someone that works here, but it’s for you.”
Patrick checked the tag and smirked as Pete was able to find his current size. He folded it and slipped it into his messenger bag, whispering, “Thanks, Pete.”
Pete hugged him and said, “Let’s go get something to eat, alright?” he asked.
Patrick nodded, trying to escape Pete’s hug. He realized Pete’s arms were still wrapped around his body. He tilted his body and looked up at Pete, waiting for his grip to loosen. When it eventually did he slipped out of the comfort zone and formed two separate ones.
They walked out of the store, Pete holding the door for Patrick while giving him a wide smile. Patrick noticed the gesture and smiled as Pete caught up with him and walked away from the store and on their merry way. A few people noticed them, asked for autographs and photos, and eventually realized they just wanted to keep on moving. It was going to be a good day, Patrick could feel it whenever his stomach fluttered with excitement when people told him he was such a good singer and his (and Pete’s) band was amazing.
“I love this place,” Patrick whispered as they got away from the third group of kids.
“I know you do,” Pete said. “I also know this is the reason why you’ll never stay in LA for more than a recording session.”
Patrick sighed. “Pete, I’m not built for LA. When I go home, I only want to see this skyline.” Patrick brought up his arms, unashamed of who would see. “My heart is forever taken by Chicago.”
Pete nodded, a slight frown adorning his face. “It’s obvious it is, but, did you ever want to, you know, have a change?”
“Pete, you know I’ve changed a lot the past few years.”
“I know, I was just wondering if you would like to have a change, not change yourself.” Pete stopped walking and shook his head. “It’s just... I don’t know... do something different, live somewhere new, love someone new.”
“Are you trying to say that I’m boring?”
“Not exactly, just... I don’t know. I’m not making any sense at the moment.”
Patrick faced Pete. “Seriously, what’s up?” He could tell that when Pete began talking with plenty of ellipses and a world-weary tone, he was really talking about himself.
Pete turned his body in toward Patrick and whispered, “I miss you, that’s all. When you’re not around it kind of is empty a lot of the time. I don’t know why. I guess I get too used to you being around all the time that when you’re not around I don’t want to be alone, I just want you to be around even more.” He laughed nervously. “It’s like being married, dude.”
Patrick smiled, looking into Pete’s eyes. “Thanks, Pete,” he whispered, “That means a lot. I miss you, too.” He averted his eyes and felt his hand wave dangerously close to Pete’s. He almost had to yank it back with his other one.
“Yeah, but at least Chicago can hold your hand. LA... not so much. It always comes with something else in it and it kind of has to juggle you in the process.”
Patrick bit his lip, swinging his hand dangerously close to Pete’s. “I don’t know, I haven’t been able to actually give it a chance, apparently.”
“Eh, I guess I don’t really blame you, even though I think you should give it a real try instead of your half-assed working vacations or whatever you call them.”
“It’s just work.”
“Don’t you think you should have fun once and awhile?”
“My work just so happens to be fun for me.” Patrick watched Pete’s feet as he made his steps on the concrete. He watched how the material wrapped around his legs folded against his joints and made sure to not look into Pete’s eyes. Because, deep down, as much as Patrick would wish that he could be able to withstand Pete’s pleading eyes, he’d always say yes. He’d pack his bags, sell his home, and call LA his home until Pete grew tired of it. He’d gladly loop around the world three times to make Pete happy (and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he already did it).
Patrick nearly slapped himself in the middle of the city street. Pete had his own paths to take and they did not have to include him every step of the way. Pete was a big boy. A big boy with a teeny girlfriend and a cute dog that would happily live ever after in their left coast hideaway. Realism was a very constant thing in Patrick’s mind.
Although, to show some sort of aggression, to try and win the boy, would be tempting. Maybe Pete would respect him for “changing” and he’d get something out of it.
Decisions, decisions.
Pete and Patrick continued to walk through the city and eventually grew tired. They sat on a bench in the park, watching morbidly obese pigeons and small children run across the grass.
Pete looked at Patrick and said, “I think I know why you hate LA.”
Patrick blinked. “Why?”
“You hate LA because you’re alone. You really should try and find someone to get with. Like, not sexually or anything, just... being friendly. A roommate, if you will.”
Patrick accidently made eye contact. “That... that sounds like a good idea.”
“I know, right? Or you can come over to my place. We’ll have sleepovers.”
Patrick nodded, looking up at the sky. They eventually got up and they continued walking, Patrick making strange observations about how the clothing that Pete wore folded on his body. He laughed in spite of himself. There was a little cage in his stomach full of butterflies, the huge ones you saw in text books and you were convinced weren’t real, and they were about to be released. Patrick bit his lip as the lock cracked and dropped, the butterflies climbing from his stomach to his fingertips. Pete noticed. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” Patrick mumbled. “I’m perfectly fine.”
When they went into the train Patrick sat across from Pete, still watching him as Pete watched the window. Patrick realized that he was looking way too much into this changing thing. Little things could cause such a huge impact, whether it was these “sleepovers” or just something to show that he really did love Pete, the way his jeans were too tight and bunched around his kneecaps, and the way that he would listen to him no matter what if he made eye contact.
Patrick gulped and reached out for Pete. Pete looked at his hand and blinked. “Huh?”
The train eased down as they reached their stop. “I want to hold your hand.”
“...Because?”
“Because. I want a change. I know... I know you got her, but I want to hold your hand. I want to take a risk for once.” And because he rationalized that holding Pete’s hand was all he ever really wanted. To be loved in such a discreet way that Pete wasn’t exactly good at displaying. Kisses on the neck, kisses on the lips, sure, that was easy. But to be able to hold back your emotion and do something so tender and gentle as holding his hand? Even if he didn’t necessarily love him like he loved his teeny girlfriend, it’d be some kind of accomplishment.
“By being some kind of other man?”
“Look, the door’s going to shut soon, Pete, you wanna do it or not?”
Pete shrugged, grabbing his hand and leaving the train. “This is cool, actually. I like it.”
“Good, because I like it, too.”
The boys continued holding hands until they arrived at Patrick’s home, when Pete tried to let go. This time, Patrick’s grip was still tightly on his, leaving that awkward moment in which Pete couldn’t escape. “‘Trick,” Pete mumbled. Patrick accidently made eye contact and dropped his hand. “I’m sorry.”
Pete pushed his hair aside and said, “Hey, it’s alright. Just. Was that a one-time thing?”
Patrick blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, were you just going to do that, because, look, I don’t mind, I love you a lot, it’s just... you know. I got her and everything.”
“Pete, it was just a hand hold. You speech me to death about how you want me to change a little and how you feel like your married to me and you can’t stand a hand hold? Thanks, Pete.”
Pete nodded, drumming his fingers on the molding of the door. “I’m sorry, it’s just... you know. You know what it’s like in my head, it’s all messed up.”
Patrick shook his head. “I tried to tame you for one minute and you can’t stand it. Thanks, Pete. You make a guy feel great inside.”
Pete frowned. “Please don’t say that.”
Patrick shook his head. “It’s okay, I don’t care... just... next time you try and crawl into my bed at three AM, don’t expect me to let you in it. Because if you can’t stand me trying to do something to you as simple as a hand hold, don’t think I’m going to be so nice to you when you can’t sleep and you need to cuddle.”
“...Don’t tell me you’re going to tell her.” Pete let out the tiniest of whimpers.
Patrick looked up at him and didn’t see the glow he felt hours earlier. He realized that in the end, all Pete wanted was to end up on top. That was why he wanted Patrick to change. So he could be the one that always controlled him in some way. To be the one that was able to make Patrick different, as in like everyone else.
Patrick did not want that.
He did not want to hold Pete’s fucking hand.
He did not want to be the one that was changed by Pete Wentz like that.
“You know what, Wentz?” Patrick snarled, dropping the last name bomb, “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her to find out.”
Pete’s eyes widened and he mumbled, “The only thing you change is how many times you break my heart.”
end
Author: becomingblurred
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Word Count: 1172
Rating: PG
Summary: And when I touch you I feel happy inside...
Disclaimer: I don't own Fall Out Boy or "I Wanna Hold Your Hand", which is by The Beatles.
Author's Notes: For slutrick Patrick!Fest, prompt #31 ("Pete/Patrick: I want a songfic based off of "I Want to Hold Your Hand" by the Beatles (I'm a sucker for that song). And I want angst. Lotsa ANGST. I want to cry, that's how much angst I want. XD"). While I kind of had a hard time writing this (nanowrimo and dramarama), I really do hope you enjoy this, even though there isn't a lot of angst, and it really isn't that much of a songfic aside from the fact it's based off the song/was listened to while writing it.
I Wanna Hold Your Hand
By Donna
The city street was open, echoing people’s actions from the night before. Patrick kicked an advertisement from a club aside as Pete and he walked side-by-side down the sidewalk. Pete gleefully pointed out the new Clandestine store and lead Patrick inside. Pete pointed out every little thing, smiling as wide as he could without looking like he was eating shit. “Here, take this,” Pete said, handing him a new polo, “I dunno if I should clear that with someone that works here, but it’s for you.”
Patrick checked the tag and smirked as Pete was able to find his current size. He folded it and slipped it into his messenger bag, whispering, “Thanks, Pete.”
Pete hugged him and said, “Let’s go get something to eat, alright?” he asked.
Patrick nodded, trying to escape Pete’s hug. He realized Pete’s arms were still wrapped around his body. He tilted his body and looked up at Pete, waiting for his grip to loosen. When it eventually did he slipped out of the comfort zone and formed two separate ones.
They walked out of the store, Pete holding the door for Patrick while giving him a wide smile. Patrick noticed the gesture and smiled as Pete caught up with him and walked away from the store and on their merry way. A few people noticed them, asked for autographs and photos, and eventually realized they just wanted to keep on moving. It was going to be a good day, Patrick could feel it whenever his stomach fluttered with excitement when people told him he was such a good singer and his (and Pete’s) band was amazing.
“I love this place,” Patrick whispered as they got away from the third group of kids.
“I know you do,” Pete said. “I also know this is the reason why you’ll never stay in LA for more than a recording session.”
Patrick sighed. “Pete, I’m not built for LA. When I go home, I only want to see this skyline.” Patrick brought up his arms, unashamed of who would see. “My heart is forever taken by Chicago.”
Pete nodded, a slight frown adorning his face. “It’s obvious it is, but, did you ever want to, you know, have a change?”
“Pete, you know I’ve changed a lot the past few years.”
“I know, I was just wondering if you would like to have a change, not change yourself.” Pete stopped walking and shook his head. “It’s just... I don’t know... do something different, live somewhere new, love someone new.”
“Are you trying to say that I’m boring?”
“Not exactly, just... I don’t know. I’m not making any sense at the moment.”
Patrick faced Pete. “Seriously, what’s up?” He could tell that when Pete began talking with plenty of ellipses and a world-weary tone, he was really talking about himself.
Pete turned his body in toward Patrick and whispered, “I miss you, that’s all. When you’re not around it kind of is empty a lot of the time. I don’t know why. I guess I get too used to you being around all the time that when you’re not around I don’t want to be alone, I just want you to be around even more.” He laughed nervously. “It’s like being married, dude.”
Patrick smiled, looking into Pete’s eyes. “Thanks, Pete,” he whispered, “That means a lot. I miss you, too.” He averted his eyes and felt his hand wave dangerously close to Pete’s. He almost had to yank it back with his other one.
“Yeah, but at least Chicago can hold your hand. LA... not so much. It always comes with something else in it and it kind of has to juggle you in the process.”
Patrick bit his lip, swinging his hand dangerously close to Pete’s. “I don’t know, I haven’t been able to actually give it a chance, apparently.”
“Eh, I guess I don’t really blame you, even though I think you should give it a real try instead of your half-assed working vacations or whatever you call them.”
“It’s just work.”
“Don’t you think you should have fun once and awhile?”
“My work just so happens to be fun for me.” Patrick watched Pete’s feet as he made his steps on the concrete. He watched how the material wrapped around his legs folded against his joints and made sure to not look into Pete’s eyes. Because, deep down, as much as Patrick would wish that he could be able to withstand Pete’s pleading eyes, he’d always say yes. He’d pack his bags, sell his home, and call LA his home until Pete grew tired of it. He’d gladly loop around the world three times to make Pete happy (and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he already did it).
Patrick nearly slapped himself in the middle of the city street. Pete had his own paths to take and they did not have to include him every step of the way. Pete was a big boy. A big boy with a teeny girlfriend and a cute dog that would happily live ever after in their left coast hideaway. Realism was a very constant thing in Patrick’s mind.
Although, to show some sort of aggression, to try and win the boy, would be tempting. Maybe Pete would respect him for “changing” and he’d get something out of it.
Decisions, decisions.
Pete and Patrick continued to walk through the city and eventually grew tired. They sat on a bench in the park, watching morbidly obese pigeons and small children run across the grass.
Pete looked at Patrick and said, “I think I know why you hate LA.”
Patrick blinked. “Why?”
“You hate LA because you’re alone. You really should try and find someone to get with. Like, not sexually or anything, just... being friendly. A roommate, if you will.”
Patrick accidently made eye contact. “That... that sounds like a good idea.”
“I know, right? Or you can come over to my place. We’ll have sleepovers.”
Patrick nodded, looking up at the sky. They eventually got up and they continued walking, Patrick making strange observations about how the clothing that Pete wore folded on his body. He laughed in spite of himself. There was a little cage in his stomach full of butterflies, the huge ones you saw in text books and you were convinced weren’t real, and they were about to be released. Patrick bit his lip as the lock cracked and dropped, the butterflies climbing from his stomach to his fingertips. Pete noticed. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” Patrick mumbled. “I’m perfectly fine.”
When they went into the train Patrick sat across from Pete, still watching him as Pete watched the window. Patrick realized that he was looking way too much into this changing thing. Little things could cause such a huge impact, whether it was these “sleepovers” or just something to show that he really did love Pete, the way his jeans were too tight and bunched around his kneecaps, and the way that he would listen to him no matter what if he made eye contact.
Patrick gulped and reached out for Pete. Pete looked at his hand and blinked. “Huh?”
The train eased down as they reached their stop. “I want to hold your hand.”
“...Because?”
“Because. I want a change. I know... I know you got her, but I want to hold your hand. I want to take a risk for once.” And because he rationalized that holding Pete’s hand was all he ever really wanted. To be loved in such a discreet way that Pete wasn’t exactly good at displaying. Kisses on the neck, kisses on the lips, sure, that was easy. But to be able to hold back your emotion and do something so tender and gentle as holding his hand? Even if he didn’t necessarily love him like he loved his teeny girlfriend, it’d be some kind of accomplishment.
“By being some kind of other man?”
“Look, the door’s going to shut soon, Pete, you wanna do it or not?”
Pete shrugged, grabbing his hand and leaving the train. “This is cool, actually. I like it.”
“Good, because I like it, too.”
The boys continued holding hands until they arrived at Patrick’s home, when Pete tried to let go. This time, Patrick’s grip was still tightly on his, leaving that awkward moment in which Pete couldn’t escape. “‘Trick,” Pete mumbled. Patrick accidently made eye contact and dropped his hand. “I’m sorry.”
Pete pushed his hair aside and said, “Hey, it’s alright. Just. Was that a one-time thing?”
Patrick blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, were you just going to do that, because, look, I don’t mind, I love you a lot, it’s just... you know. I got her and everything.”
“Pete, it was just a hand hold. You speech me to death about how you want me to change a little and how you feel like your married to me and you can’t stand a hand hold? Thanks, Pete.”
Pete nodded, drumming his fingers on the molding of the door. “I’m sorry, it’s just... you know. You know what it’s like in my head, it’s all messed up.”
Patrick shook his head. “I tried to tame you for one minute and you can’t stand it. Thanks, Pete. You make a guy feel great inside.”
Pete frowned. “Please don’t say that.”
Patrick shook his head. “It’s okay, I don’t care... just... next time you try and crawl into my bed at three AM, don’t expect me to let you in it. Because if you can’t stand me trying to do something to you as simple as a hand hold, don’t think I’m going to be so nice to you when you can’t sleep and you need to cuddle.”
“...Don’t tell me you’re going to tell her.” Pete let out the tiniest of whimpers.
Patrick looked up at him and didn’t see the glow he felt hours earlier. He realized that in the end, all Pete wanted was to end up on top. That was why he wanted Patrick to change. So he could be the one that always controlled him in some way. To be the one that was able to make Patrick different, as in like everyone else.
Patrick did not want that.
He did not want to hold Pete’s fucking hand.
He did not want to be the one that was changed by Pete Wentz like that.
“You know what, Wentz?” Patrick snarled, dropping the last name bomb, “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her to find out.”
Pete’s eyes widened and he mumbled, “The only thing you change is how many times you break my heart.”
end