I wrote random beffies (or maybe more?) fic for
adellyna's
Bandom's Been Snowed In meme. As always, beta by my dearest
o4fuxache. ♥
And Since We've No Place To Go
Pete/Patrick (Fall Out Boy), G, 1162 words
Patrick wakes up to the unmistakable sensation of someone jumping on his bed. No, not someone. He doesn't even need to open his eyes.
Pete. Is jumping. On his bed. Patrick cracks one blurry eye open and sees the fuzzy outline of his best friend, barely backlit from the pallor light of way-too-fucking-early o'clock on an overcast Chicago morning.
Nnnfgh, he protests, lips stuck together in sleep and brain too foggy to form actual words, but Pete ignores him and keeps jumping.
Nnnfgh, he repeats, and gains enough motor function to catch Pete's ankle (the good one, not the recently-healed one, but only because the sun is actually up at least) and tug. Pete flails a little and faceplants into the mattress with a sharp, hot exhale against the back of Patrick's knee.
He wiggles and shifts until he's mostly right-side-up and facing Patrick, pointing to the window, smile splitting his face in two.
Patrick fumbles for his glasses on the nightstand and blinks into the realization that it's not just overcast, it's snowing. Big, fat flakes piling up so far that all he sees is an expanse of untouched white.
Pete is grinning hard and he starts to bounce again, rocking Patrick to the rhythm of his chant:
Snow Day! Snow Day!
Patrick reminds him that they're not eight years old, that they are in fact in on a well deserved break between touring and... more touring, and most importantly, don't actually have to go to second grade today.
Pete rolls his eyes, like duh. That's what a snow day means, he reminds Patrick, and tugs him out of bed.
*****
Pete insists they start by eating cereal and watching cartoons in their pajamas on the living room floor.
Since Pete stayed over really late and just decided to crash on the couch the night before instead of going back to his parent's place, he doesn't even have pajamas on. So he digs through Patrick's dresser and finds the ridiculous red and green plaid pajama set his Aunt Catherine got him and Kevin both for Christmas last year. It's too big for him, and Patrick blushes as Pete grins and strips down right there, tugging the shirt over his head.
He makes Patrick wear his slightly tattered terrycloth bathrobe over his tshirt and boxers (though he tried to talk Patrick out of both of those first) and mourns his utter lack of slippers resembling small furry animals.
*****
On snow days when Pete was a kid, his mom would pull out the newspaper and together they would go through: clipping coupons, searching Classifieds for jobs and sales, doing the word jumbles and reading the comics.
Patrick doesn't get the paper delivered because he isn't home that much, but he had picked one up with his coffee on the way to his mom's two days ago and hadn't put the recycling bin out yet.
That's good enough for Pete, so they split up the sections to begin with, Patrick takes a handful of colored pens and the Classifieds (asking Pete again what exactly he's supposed to be looking for and is told upcoming yard sales and a decent job so I can keep you in those expensive.... hats you like so much, Patrick!) while Pete reads the comics aloud, with voices.
Then they start (and abandon, Patrick cannot figure out V- R-E-O-L) the word jumbles and move on to coupon clipping.
Patrick doesn't really need two dollars off his next purchase of any Tampax product, but Pete insists and grabs the scissors.
****
For lunch Pete demands the only acceptable Snow Day Lunch: tomato soup and grilled cheese.
Amazingly, these are things that Patrick both has ingredients for and actually knows how to cook. Pete butters the bread, opens the soup can and sets the table.
By the time Patrick brings the steaming pot to the table, Pete has cut a smiley face into his sandwich.
*****
They go outside to play in the snow after lunch.
Or more accurately, Patrick goes out to shovel the driveway and scatter rock salt on the front stoop, when Pete nails him with a snowball to the back of his neck.
While Patrick blinks in shock, Pete snatches his duck hunter hat off by the left ear flap and tears off down the driveway, sliding along the hidden ice.
It's on after that, a full-out snow war of epic proportions.
*****
They eventually come inside to thaw. Pete shakes the snow out of his hair like a dog and peels off his wet hoodie and gloves. He kicks off his sneakers and heads for the kitchen, calling over his shoulder to Patrick, asking where the he keeps the cocoa mix.
*****
By the time the sun sets, the plows and salt trucks have gone by at least twice and the roads are more than clear enough for Pete to go home. But sparse, light flakes are still floating down and Pete insists the Snow Day ain't over 'til the last flake falls.
Pete wants to play board games by candle light. All Patrick has is a Warm Vanilla Sugar candle his mom left over last week, Scrabble with some of the tiles missing, and Yatzee with only four dice. They invent a game of spelling words before the other person can roll two sets of doubles that's so complicated to score they forget how after a round and a half.
Patrick was so winning anyways, since Pete was only spelling things like is and home and snow and Patrik (there are no 'c' tiles).
*****
The candle burns down and Pete suddenly remembers they do have electricity and he darts for the remote, flipping through in search of a good movie.
They end up on an episode of The Office on TBS, which turns in to a marathon of The Office on DVD, which turns in to Pete quoting lines from episodes they aren't watching into the pillow shoved against Patrick's thigh.
Patrick maybe quotes lines back.
*****
Pete insists on staying over again since it's too late to drive in the snow. He refuses to sleep on the couch this time, complaining that it was too hard (and responds to himself with a 'that's what she said!' joke) and too cold (Patrick gave him like, four blankets) and too lonely (Patrick... can't argue with that). So Pete grins and makes for the bedroom.
Patrick can hear him jumping on the bed.
He surveys the living room one last time. There's a bowl with dregs of Cinnamon Toast Crunch on the coffee table, the ransacked newspaper spread across the kitchen counter full of cut-out holes and colored scribbles, Pete's snow-damp skeleton gloves by the door. The bastard child of Yatzee and Scrabble is still scattered across the carpet, Pete was supposed to put it away after his last turn.
The tiles spell home is my patrik.
Patrick shuts off the fireplace and goes to bed.