part deux
Meeting the parents, or; hey, isn't that your mom? [2/2]
~1,500 || R (language)
--
Okay, scratch that. Patrick has it far worse than that sissy artist. He’s sweating profusely the whole drive over to the Wentz house, almost turning around more times than he can count. The thought of Pete keeps him on the road, though, and he even finds the courage to knock on the door of the house.
It opens almost before he’s touched the wood, and a grinning Pete is suddenly in his space.
“You’re here!” he whoops, hugging Patrick around the waist and smacking a kiss to his cheek.
“’Course,” Patrick says, as if he didn’t almost cause several traffic accidents in his panic. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Patrick,” a warm voice says, and Patrick quickly pushes Pete away. Pete hits the now-closed door, and huffs.
“Dude,” he wheezes, “You’ve got to stop pushing me around. Domestic violence is never the answer, honey.”
“Don’t call me honey, asshole,” Patrick hisses just as Pete’s mother rounds the corner and into view. Wow. Patrick is amazed at how similar Pete is to his mother. They have the same olive skin and those huge eyes. It actually makes him let his guard down for a moment, until,
“Patrick!” she gushes and hugs him quickly. Patrick is pretty much taken-aback, but does pat her awkwardly on the back a few times before she finally lets him go. “It’s so nice to finally,” she pauses and throws Pete a meaningful glare, “meet you. Come on.”
Patrick looks at Pete with a huge dose of ‘holy mother of god, help me’ in his eyes, and Pete chuckles and follows Patrick and his own mother into the kitchen. Pete’s dad is standing at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smells heavenly. When he sees Patrick and turns around, Patrick notices that he’s wearing an apron that says ‘Kiss The Cook.’ He would have chuckled at that, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d probably puke if he did.
“Patrick,” Pete’s father says, grinning widely, and okay. That’s where Pete’s gotten his enormous smile from. “Hey there.” He wipes his hands on the apron and grabs Patrick’s in a firm shake. “Sit, sit. Dinner will be done in a minute.”
Patrick awkwardly grabs hold of the arm of Pete’s hoodie and pulls him to the kitchen table. They sit across from each other, listening to Pete’s parents’ goodnatured bickering. Pete occasionally adds something to an argument, but mostly just sits there, smiling and laughing. Patrick watches him, finally relaxing in his boyfriend’s home. Not thinking, he puts his hand on the table and twines his fingers with Pete. Pete looks at him, face still stuck in a smile. Patrick leans over the table to say in a low voice,
“I really wish we’ll be like that some day.”
Something flashes in Pete’s eyes. “Yeah? We just went steady a week ago, and you’re planning on babies?”
Patrick chuckles, ducks his head, suddenly feeling stupid. “I don’t know. Sorry. I just. Didn’t mean to freak you out or anything.”
Pete laughs at that and squeezes his hand harder. “Oh, dude. You can’t scare me away. Just say the word and we’ll kidnap someone’s baby and claim it as our own. One condition; it has to be called Uno.”
Pete’s dad lets out a chuckle by the oven, and Patrick reddens when he realizes that he’s heard every word Pete and Patrick’s said. “No grandson of mine will be called Uno, Pete. No way.”
“Who said anything about a son? Uno’s for a girl,” Pete says genially.
“And on that note; dinner’s ready,” Pete’s mother says, bringing over a giant plate of chicken filets.
The whole dinner, Patrick tries to focus on talking to Pete’s parents without choking on his food. It’s pretty hard, since his mind hasn’t left Pete, babies and the future for a long time.
They’re finished with dinner and dessert and have headed into the living room for some TV when Patrick’s cell phone buzzes. Excusing himself, he heads into the bathroom and flips it open.
“Hello?” he hisses, feeling embarrassed that he had to leave the living room.
“Patrick?” comes the panicked voice on the other end.
Oh, fucking hell. “Ryan? Are you fucking kidding me?” Patrick quickly lowers his voice again and turns it into a deadly whisper. “I’m meeting my boyfriend’s parents for the first time. You get that? I told you not to call me.”
“I’m having an anxiety attack,” Ryan wheezes. Patrick stops in his tracks.
“Er, where are you?”
“I’m outside Brendon’s house. I love him, Patrick. He must know.”
Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. “Ryan, are you drunk?”
Ryan laughs suddenly. “On love, maybe. I’m high on life, taking chances as one should. I shall prevail, in love and other areas of my life.”
Patrick thinks for a moment, and makes a quick decision. He isn’t going to let Ryan ruin his own life. “Fucking shit, Ryan. What’s Brendon’s address?”
“Oooh,” Ryan says, “you gonna help me up to his window?”
Ten minutes later, Patrick has finally gotten an address out of Ryan’s drunken mind.
“Um, don’t go anywhere,” Patrick says and hangs up.
He heads out of the bathroom and back to the living room, hanging his head slightly.
“I’m really sorry,” he says when the three occupants all look up to smile at him, “but I’ve got to go.”
“What?” Pete asks. “Why?”
“Ryan,” Patrick simply says, and yeah, that’s pretty much saying it all.
“Oh, shit,” Pete says and ignores his mother’s admonishment, “I’m coming with you.”
Then he finally turns to his parents. “Um, I mean. May I?”
His mom and dad look simply astonished. “Well,” his dad says slowly, “I guess so.”
They follow the kids out to the hall and Pete’s dad opens the front door for them. Pete’s mom catches Patrick in a hug and whispers, “He’s never been this open and happy before. Thank you, Patrick.”
Patrick just blushes and smiles a little at her when she releases him. “Thanks for dinner,” he mumbles lamely and then Pete is pulling him out the door.
Well, that went well.
--
When they finally get to Brendon’s place, Ryan is nowhere to be found. It’s a big and beautiful house in a very nice neighborhood, which means that it has a reasonably-sized lawn. In the darkness, there was no way of seeing Ryan.
“Shit,” Patrick says. “Okay, you go left, I go right.”
Pete nods, then pulls Patrick close and kisses him furiously. “Be careful, baby,” he whispers dramatically.
Patrick shakes with laughter. “You are seriously the biggest dork I’ve ever --“
“Shhh,” Pete says suddenly. “Did you hear that?”
Patrick strains his ears and yeah. There’s a faint mumbling, almost like barely-held-in laughter. He waves a hand to make Pete follow him, and they quietly pad through the grass towards the sounds.
After a moment, Patrick can just barely make out something between the few trees. He squints, leans closer and groans.
“Patrick?” Brendon asks nervously. “That you?”
“Yeah,” Patrick says, “Pete’s here too.”
“Howdy,” comes Pete’s voice from behind Patrick.
Patrick’s eyes fall to the ground, and he gasps again. “Oh, Ryan. Not good.”
Ryan is sprawled across the grass, mouth hanging slack, arm slung over his eyes, snoring contentedly.
“I heard him from my room,” Brendon says, looking like he’s trying not to smile. “He was… serenading me, I guess you have to call it.”
“Again; oh, Ryan.” Patrick shakes his head.
“Dude,” Pete says, “everyone knows you can’t serenade someone without a boombox. Has this boy no culture?”
“Yeah, you’re a real Dobler, alright,” Patrick snorts.
Brendon interrupts their bickering. “Guys, seriously.” And yeah, he actually looks worried. “We need to get him home.”
“We’ll do it, no worries,” Pete says. “You can go to sleep again.”
Brendon looks from Pete to Patrick to Ryan. Then he bends down and quickly presses a kiss to the corner of Ryan’s mouth.
“Alas, no prince,” Pete jokes, but Patrick elbows him in the ribs.
When they’ve finally stowed Ryan in the backseat of Patrick’s car, Brendon bids them goodnight and they take off. Ryan actually awakens a little when they get him out of the car, and mumbles something about Brendon’s luscious lips, which is both gross and really doesn’t help their trip up the stairs to Ryan’s room. Like a miracle, they don’t wake up the whole Ross household, and they’re off again.
“Well,” Pete says, yawning slightly, when they park in Patrick’s driveway. “That was an interesting night.”
Patrick chews his lip a little, and catches Pete staring at it. “Did I mess things up too much with your folks?”
“Hell no,” Pete says earnestly, looking Patrick straight in the eye, “they loved you. Seriously, who wouldn’t?”
“Oh, please,” Patrick sighs.
“Shut up and kiss me, cutie,” Pete says in a flighty voice.
Patrick sighs again, but does as Pete asks him.