Lessons, part III. Andy/Patrick (NC-17) (FOB)
Lessons, or a Series of (Un)fortunate Events in the Life of Andrew Hurley (Complete)
Andy/Patrick
NC-17
~9000 words (~14000 total)
Disclaimer: never happened, etc.
Note: About eighteen months ago, I started a fic wherein Andy Hurley falls in love with Patrick Stump's perfect cocksucking mouth, and I left him kind of sadly bereft. Those of you who know me know I can't do that to ANY of my boys for long, so I have finally fixed it with a chapter that is twice as long as the other two put together. Thanks to schuyler for the beta and encouragment, and this is dedicated to Quinn and Jorithy who poked and prodded me to finish this lo these long months. And to Andy, who deserves everything he gets.
Parts 1 & 2
III.
On Saturday, Andy woke up restless and agitated. He called Pete and blew off their movie and got in his car. He drove aimlessly, his CD player cranking System of a Down. After two hours, he admitted to himself that it was a damn good thing he didn’t have any idea where Tom lived. After three, he admitted that okay, fine, maybe this Patrick thing wasn’t just going to go away. After three and a half-the last thirty minutes of which had been spent replaying Patrick’s afternoon in his room, the feeling of Patrick’s mouth on him, the slide of his tongue, his hair soft under Andy’s fingers-Andy pulled off the road into a small deserted parking lot and jerked off in his car.
He sat blinking at the blue cloth roof for a long time, his head buzzing. Patrick didn’t think of him as anything more than a friend. Except possibly a practice dummy. Not that he had any reason to. Not that Andy wanted him to. He slammed his hand into the ceiling of the car until it was burned red from the fabric.
After an hour, Andy started his car and drove straight into the city and parked at Highland. There was really only one thing in the world that hurt more than the dull ache in his chest and for the next few hours Andy was grateful for it.
**
Andy had almost forgotten about the new tattoo a week later. The sting was gone and the lines screamed orange and red across his back, his backpiece wider and brighter. They’d been rehearsing in Pete’s garage with the door closed to keep out the cold, and after two hours it was hot enough that Andy took off his shirt. He tossed it behind his drum kit, narrowly missing his glasses. Patrick was behind him fiddling with some amp wires and Andy almost jumped out of his skin when he felt tentative fingers on his shoulder.
“Is this new?” Patrick asked quietly and Andy nodded as his fingers traced down Andy’s back. “I like it. It’s dark, but I can’t tell if the orange makes it brighter or more angry.”
Andy looked over his shoulder and blinked at Patrick. “That’s the point, a little. I wasn’t sure either…”
“Cool,” Patrick smiled at him and Andy felt himself smiling back.
After practice, Pete slung an arm around Patrick’s shoulders while Andy and Joe took apart Andy’s kit. “So, big plans with your college boy this weekend?”
Patrick didn’t answer right away. Andy focused on the straps of his drum cases rather than see his flushed smile.
“Hey, you okay Trick?” Andy’s head snapped up at Pete’s tone. Patrick had pulled himself away and was busying himself with his amp.
“’M fine,” he noted quickly, winding a cord around his elbow. “Tom and I broke up,” he added breezily, not quite looking Pete in the eye. Andy froze.
“Man, that fucking sucks, dude,” Pete placed a comforting hand at the nape of Patrick’s neck. He didn’t press for details.
Patrick just shrugged. “Whatever. The touring bullshit was really getting to him and god knows I’ll be doing that until I die at this rate, so we just, you know. It’s for the best, probably.”
“Yeah,” Joe stood up and grinned at him. “Free and easy, man. That’s the best plan anyhow. Bros before, well, okay that doesn’t really work, huh?”
Patrick laughed but Andy noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Absolutely, dude. Bros before whatever.” Andy came up behind him and opened the garage door. He didn’t say anything; just let Patrick follow him out.
The car was pretty much packed before Andy said a word, leaning in close, but not too close. Patrick’s usually pale skin was flushed from the wind and Andy was horrified by how strong the urge was to tuck an errant lock of hair behind Patrick’s ear. “You really okay?” he almost whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Pete was still in the house.
“Yeah,” Patrick’s smile was thin but real. “It didn’t… it’s fine.”
“What happened?” Andy asked, and almost winced as it came out of his mouth. It wasn’t any of his business, really, and Patrick would volunteer the information if he wanted to but--
“He broke your Golden Rule,” Patrick said, flushing brighter and not looking up from where he was scraping the frost off his mom’s windshield. “And you’re right. It totally sucked.”
“Oh,” Andy said. Tom’s a fucking idiot, Andy thought. Patrick shot him another half-smile and shrugged into the car. As he backed out of the driveway, Andy waved. When Patrick smiled wider, Andy’s stomach flipped so hard he almost threw up.
I am so totally fucked, he finally admitted to himself. But at least he’s single now. Andy decided that four weeks was good. A respectable month post-breakup and he could maybe, possibly talk to Patrick about this… thing. That he was feeling.
**
Three months later, Andy was still jerking off in the shower to fantasies of Patrick bent over the seat of the van and Patrick was still none the wiser.
“Hey,” Patrick sat down in the booth and grinned at Andy and Pete. “Did we order?”
“We did, and you’re having the tempeh BLT.” Pete kicked rhythmically at the seat. Patrick hummed in thanks. Andy actively studied his cell phone and not Patrick’s mouth. “You coming to the show tonight?” The Academy was playing and Pete promised William… well, Pete promised William all sorts of things. Andy had already begged out.
“Can’t,” Patrick stole Andy’s Dew and took a long sip before sliding it back across the table. “I have a thing.”
Pete’s eyebrows rose.
“It’s nothing! It’s a nothing thing. With a person.” Patrick was pink, and Andy pretended to type while trying not to crush his phone.
“Trick.” Pete said, grinning. “You have a date.”
“Yes.” Patrick tugged his hat lower and glared at Pete. “Fuck off.”
Pete uncrossed his legs and leaned forward on his elbows. As he opened his mouth, Patrick cut him off. “Her name is Anna. I met her at a vinyl shop. Yes, she’s taller than me. Yes, she’s legal. No, she doesn’t want to sleep with you. I have no idea if she’s ever read Hemingway, nor do I intend to make her read any. That’s it. Shut the fuck up.”
Pete laughed, sat back and crossed his arms. “Sounds okay.”
“Yeah,” Patrick said, and his smile was small and a little dazed. “She really does.”
“’scuse me,” Andy nudged Pete with his knee. “I just remembered I have to get into the city,” he said as Pete slid over to let him out. “Trick can have my fries.” He threw ten dollars on the table and was halfway out the door when he heard Patrick’s low questioning mumble and Pete’s …don’t know… just weird lately…
Andy was long past due for a new tattoo.
**
“Hey, baby,” Patrick rumbled low into the phone, turning so he faced the window of the van. “No, we’re almost there,” he said and laughed low at Anna’s reply. Andy curled up tighter with his book - The Virgin Suicides, a loaner from Pete-and tried to tune it out. They were almost to the venue and Andy jumped out of the van quickly when they pulled into the parking lot, not needing another round of ‘no, you hang up first’. They quickly unpacked the trailer (the new one, after the Jersey Incident a few months back) and Andy let the techs at the venue help him with his kit.
One of them was named Melissa, or maybe Melinda, and she was cute in a lanky, skater way. After the show, Melissa-maybe-Melinda found him backstage and smiled and bit her lip and Andy let her take him home, back to a ratty apartment with an unmade double bed. He pressed her against the inside of her door, slid his hands over her pale skin, sucked at the piercing in her nipple, listened to her moan. It was hot, just like it had been with Abby-maybe-Addy in Cleveland and Kristen-maybe-Kirsten in St. Louis. It was good, and fun, and better than climbing in the van after a set and watching Patrick check his voice mail and smile softly to himself. It was better than sharing a room with Joe, or Charlie, or god forbid Patrick himself, laying there in the dark and hating himself quietly. When Melissa-maybe-Melinda came with a harsh cry, arching against her headboard, Andy looked down at her and thought maybe he was going about this the wrong way.
**
“Fuck,” Andy breathed as he came, his hand spasming on the toilet paper holder, head banging back into the blue metal of the stall door with a hollow thud. He blinked a few times before looking down. “Hey,” he said quietly, the word tasting bitter. “Um,” he bit his lower lip as the boy stood, short spiky hair brushing Andy’s sternum.
The boy kissed him quickly before Andy could react. He could taste the sweetness of rum and cokes under the salty bitter of himself and blinked at how much it didn’t gross him out, not really. “You’re welcome,” the boy (Danny, he was pretty sure this one was Danny, though the club was really loud) said with a knowing smile and reached behind Andy, unlocking the door and slipping out into the bathroom. Andy waited until he heard the screaming noise from the club through the open bathroom door before tugging his pants closed and following.
Back at the hotel, Andy slipped into his room as quietly as possible. Patrick was already passed out in the other bed, half on his stomach, fingers curling into his pillow. He paused for a minute just to watch and tried to shake the hotcold wave of nausea that snuck up on him. He’d been doing this for long enough that it was officially a secret, six months of random hookups in bar bathrooms and back alleys and backseats. He tried to make sure they didn’t look like Patrick. He tried to make sure he was getting off on it for all the right reasons.
And he was. Mostly. Andy was a pragmatic guy, and it made sense to him that liking dick was liking dick, and maybe he should make sure this Patrick thing wasn’t a fluke. And it wasn’t. Not by a long shot. By the third or fourth time (Jackson, that name he remembered, smiling), he wasn’t thinking about Patrick when a boy went down on him, biting at his hip and sucking him down like it was a fucking treat. Jackson had been so into it, and Andy couldn’t help palming a hand over the bulge in his jeans when he stood. When Jackson whimpered, a breathy “oh, fuck”, against Andy’s collar, it had been easy to tug them open, slip his hand inside and jerk him off until Jackson came with a shudder.
It was the first time Andy had ever touched another guy’s dick, and it was surprisingly non-traumatic. Andy grinned at him and they ended up kissing lazily for another fifteen minutes before Jackson slipped away with a “hope I see you around here again” and a smile.
But that was five months ago, and they hadn’t made it back to New Mexico. And it had still never gone further than furtive blowjobs in semi-public places. Not that Andy didn’t think about it sometimes, pressing one of these boys into a wall and fucking him hard, but it wasn’t ever… right.
Patrick sighed in his sleep and shifted on his pillow. Andy retreated to the bathroom to shower and was annoyed to find a bite mark on his hip, high enough that it would be visible over the waistband of his low-rise jeans. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered and ran his fingers over the bruise.
**
“Oh my God,” Patrick said, eyes wide and laughing. He turned his face into Andy’s shoulder. “Please, tell me when its over.”
Andy laughed too, shaking his head and trying not to watch as Pete slid a little closer to his new protégé. Ryan Ross was a skinny little fuck, all big eyes and tentative smiles, with just a dash of hero worship that was visible all the way across the room. Pete wasn’t smooth, but with Ryan he really didn’t need to be. Pete put his hand around Ryan’s shoulder and Andy snorted into his soda as Ryan’s eyes got even bigger. “This is not going to end well,” he said quiet enough that only Patrick could hear.
“Please, seriously,” Patrick lifted his head and looked at Andy pleadingly. “If you love me at all, Hurley, don’t say another word. I want to pretend Pete isn’t about to get sued for sexually harassing an employee.”
“To be fair, the employee looks okay with it,” Andy noted and Patrick just groaned.
“We should never have let him go to Vegas.”
“Come on,” Andy tugged at Patrick’s arm. “Let’s get out of here before…” he paused as Pete leaned in close and whispered low in Ryan’s ear. Ryan opened his mouth and then shut it quickly, nodding and blushing. “Okay, now. Now is good.”
He and Patrick fled the party together, waving to Joe as they grabbed their jackets and laughing as they tumbled out into the night air. The hotel was more of a motel, with a large swimming pool in the middle that Andy knew better than to swim in. Dirty and Pete and Charlie had been out there all afternoon.
“Dude, he is seriously going to get arrested one of these days. He’s just lucky Jeanae’s parents are so easy-going.” Patrick shrugged into his hoodie and pulled his hat down.
“It’s not that bad,” Andy stuffed his hands in his pockets as they walked. It had been warm, but the sky was clear and the night was colder than he’d expected.
“Come on,” Patrick rolled his eyes. “It’s like he has a rulebook that says ‘no one over 18 allowed in my pants’.”
“Nothing wrong with liking ‘em a little young,” Andy said, glancing sidelong at Patrick. When Patrick looked back, windswept and grinning, Andy winked.
Inside Andy froze. Outside, he barely kept breathing. Patrick just blinked at him and then laughed, bumping his shoulder as they walked. “Classy, dude.”
“I try,” Andy covered, grateful his clammy hands were already in his pockets.
“It’s not like you bring your conquests back to the hotel room, though. Which I am grateful for, by the way.”
“No problem,” Andy laughed. It sounded a little hysterical in his own ears but Patrick didn’t seem to notice. “Figured you and your girl needed some alone time on the phone,” he forced a grin and Patrick blushed faintly.
“Yeah, well. Thanks,” he laughed. “If you ever need the room, though, just. It’s cool.”
“Okay,” Andy smiled at his feet, thinking of the look on Patrick’s face if he brought one of his ‘conquests’ back to the room. Like Carlos, the boy he jerked off last night in the back hallway of a hotel bar, cursing in Spanish as Andy bit at the tendon of his neck. Patrick might like Carlos-he’d been wearing a Morrissey shirt unironically.
They weren’t sharing a room that night-Andy had gotten Charlie in the room draw-but when they reached Patrick and Pete’s room, Patrick tugged at his sleeve. “Want to play some Nintendo, dude? Don’t leave me alone here,” he laughed and Andy didn’t even think about it.
“Sure,” he followed Patrick into his room and settled next to him against the headboard, ignoring the way his pulse sped up when Patrick tossed him a controller and smiled wide.
“Please don’t kick my ass so badly this time. It’s emasculating,” Patrick joked and Andy settled against his side.
“No promises, Stump.”
**
“I just. Can I just fly home and kick her ass?” Pete was talking quietly but his knee was shaking, a steady up-down motion that shook the table as Andy sat down, surveying it for breakfast possibilities. Joe looked pissed too, his jaw tightening.
“Not that I wouldn’t support it dude, but-“
“What’s going on?” Andy asked. He’d stumbled onto the bus just minutes before call, and was still barely conscious as the bus sped down some nameless highway to the next venue.
Pete looked at him sharply. “Patrick and Anna broke up last night,” he said venomously, and Andy didn’t need to ask whose idea it had been. “She was fucking cheating on him, can you believe that?”
Andy looked from Pete back toward the bunks. Patrick’s curtain was pulled tightly closed. “Seriously?”
“Fucking cunt,” Pete spat out.
“Pete,” Joe said, holding up his hand to make Pete lower his voice.
“He okay?” Andy asked, suddenly not hungry at all.
“Not really, no,” Joe muttered and Pete slid off the bench and stomped back to the bunks. Andy watched him shove Patrick’s curtain open and crawl inside, Patrick’s hoarse voice feigning annoyance until the curtain shut. “That’ll work until Pete tells him she was a stupid whore and he tries to defend her,” Joe said with a sigh and Andy sat back, dumbfounded.
“That’s. I mean, I didn’t see that coming,” he said finally.
“No one did,” Joe half-smiled. “I mean, who the fuck cheats on Patrick?”
Andy managed to avoid Patrick for most of the day. He just didn’t know what to say. He knew a sympathetic pat on the shoulder was more likely to piss Patrick off than be comforting, and he didn’t trust his hands anyway. They were at soundcheck by the time Andy managed to look at Patrick and say “You okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” Patrick said through clenched teeth, and Andy just nodded.
At the end of the show, Patrick disappeared fast and Andy took his time showering and changing. He was almost leaving when one of the venue ticket takers stopped him for an autograph.
“You guys were fucking awesome,” he said as Andy signed his poster, clearly ripped off the wall of the venue. Andy didn’t think anything of it until the boy slipped his thumb over Andy’s as he took his pen back. “So. You guys leaving right away?”
Andy wondered if he’d added another tattoo somewhere down the line, one that said ‘dick accepted here’.
“Uh, I don’t think so,” Andy bit his lip and the boy grinned.
“Awesome,” he replied and leaned in closer. “You want to check out the sound booth?” he asked and Andy glanced past him to the outside door to the venue. The whole band was probably already there, Joe and Pete and Dirty and Patrick, nursing a broken heart, and Andy felt like a total asshole, but yeah. He would much rather see the sound booth with… “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Luke,” the kid replied and Andy nodded.
“Let’s go,” he grinned and Luke led the way, glancing over his shoulder a few times like he wasn’t sure Andy was really there. It was nice.
“Here it is,” Luke opened the door to a small, dimly lit room at the top of the balcony area and Andy just closed the door behind them, nodding.
“Nice,” he said as Luke stepped into his chest, already breathing harder. “You come up here often?”
“Not really, no,” Luke smiled as he leaned in, and Andy let Luke lead the kiss, all lewd tongue and breathy gasps.
They weren’t at it long when Luke’s hands were on his fly, tugging and pulling until Andy’s jeans were around his thighs, Luke’s eager hands tugging on his cock until Andy was cursing into his mouth, pressing on his shoulder. Luke laughed against his mouth. “Okay, okay,” he nosed against Andy’s collar and Andy took a minute to think ‘yeah, this one isn’t too bad’ before Luke was sliding to his knees. Luke was good, really good at this, and Andy wasn’t thinking of anything much really, not about Patrick and the way he’d stomped through the show tonight, the way he’d avoided looking at anyone, the way his eyes were red and swollen… especially not about the door five feet away, and the fact that it was unlocked in a strange venue.
“Andy? Hey are you-“ Patrick’s voice cut through the blood rushing through Andy’s veins as the door slammed shut with a “fuck, fuck sorry”.
Luke pulled off wetly, eyes wide. “Shit, are you--” but Andy was already tugging his jeans closed.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Andy managed through the ice-cold shiver that rocked him to his toes. “Sorry, fuck,” he managed to say to Luke, still on his knees as Andy threw the door open and tried to figure out which way Patrick had gone.
He chose the wrong direction. By the time he trudged back to the bus half an hour later, Patrick was holed up in his bunk with music blasting.
“Dude, where the fuck were you?” Joe asked, already half-baked, and Andy shrugged him off. He stood outside Patrick’s bunk for a full minute before tugging his own bunk curtain open and crawling inside, heart beating fast enough to keep him awake through the wee hours of the night.
**
It was half a day before they were alone long enough for anything to come of it.
Andy wandered into the front lounge and Patrick was sitting in the sun, hat pushed back and earphones firmly on. Pete and Joe were both gone. Andy looked out the window to see a mega-truck stop. “Went for snacks?” he asked just loud enough that Patrick would hear him but not jump in surprise.
Patrick looked up and paused for a moment before nodding. Andy grabbed a Capri Sun from the fridge and headed back to his bunk. If he was lucky, Patrick would just…
“Andy,” Patrick said behind him, tentatively. He took a deep breath, then another, before turning around.
“Trick. It wasn’t,” Patrick was looking at him oddly, almost meeting his eyes but not quite making it. Andy’s stomach twisted. “I don’t know what to say, here,” he finally exhaled.
Patrick nodded shortly. “Yeah, okay.”
“It’s not something I do a lot,” Andy tried to explain, not quite sure if it was a lie. He didn’t hook up with guys nearly as much as he used to with girls, but it wasn’t like Luke was an aberration. “It’s just-“
“No, whatever, it’s fine,” Patrick said shortly, eyes back on his laptop. “Sorry if I fucked up your night.”
“Patrick-“
“No, look. It’s not my business, clearly, so. Whatever.” Patrick sounded annoyed in that way that always translated into hurt, and Andy wanted to be comforting but all he could do was dig his nails into his palms and try his best not to punch something.
“It’s really not,” he said shortly and he cringed inwardly as Patrick’s head jerked up.
“Fuck you,” Patrick said viciously and Andy took a step back. “I was trying to apologize for interrupting your… whatever. Random gay hookup. Which I am being incredibly cool about not calling you out on, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Andy said with half a sneer he couldn’t stop. He took half a step outside himself and tried to stop it, tried to get himself to walk away, to let himself cool down about this, let the embarrassment wash away before he said something he couldn’t take back. Before… “You were right the first time, though. It’s really not your fucking business.”
“Right,” Patrick nodded, cheeks bright red as he swept his laptop up in one arm and pushed past Andy to his bunk.
Andy wished the door to the bunk area slammed as he slid it closed with as much force as he could. He collapsed on the couch and sucked at his drink, arms hugged around his body until Joe and Pete stomped back on the bus. Joe tossed a bag of barbeque soy crisps into Andy’s lap. Andy valiantly managed not to cry.
**
I’m sorry. The note was short and attached to a new copy of The Smiths’ last album, the one Patrick had lost a month or so ago and bitched about weekly.
Andy left it on his pillow and waited. It had been a week since he’d made an ass out of himself and Patrick had been amazingly good at avoiding him. He just hoped things could go back… well, the way it had been was horribly frustrating, but at least then Patrick had talked to him.
Patrick found him after the show that night, tugging him into the back lounge and leaning on the door.
“I just wish you’d told me,” he said, and Andy wasn’t sure that was where he wanted to start, with big confessions.
“I didn’t tell anybody,” Andy replied, slipping off his shoes and tucking his feet under him on the sofa.
“Yeah, I got that,” Patrick said with a half-smile and Andy’s breath caught in his chest.
“You didn’t say anything to Pete, right?” he asked. If Pete knew, this would all get a lot less easy a lot more quickly.
Patrick snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause that would be a great plan.” Andy exhaled in a whoosh. Patrick sat heavily on the couch next to him. “You okay?” he asked kindly, and Andy thought it was a little stupid, like he should still be the one asking Patrick that, after Anna.
He nodded. “Yeah. Mortified, but okay,” he shrugged with a small laugh and Patrick leaned back, sighing.
“So was that… I mean tell me to shut up if you don’t want to talk about it, but. Was that, like, an anomaly?”
Andy could say yes. He could just nod and shrug it off and Patrick would believe him. He glanced over and Patrick was watching him with his head tilted to one side, his eyes curious and… something else. Thoughtful. Intrigued. “No,” he admitted, looking Patrick right in the eyes. Patrick took a sharp breath and Andy’s palms itched in a way they hadn’t in months.
“Okay,” Patrick nodded slowly and chewed at his lower lip.
“I mean, the sound booth thing was a new one, and clearly I won’t be trying that again,” Andy scratched at his elbow and wrinkled his nose as Patrick let out a short laugh of surprise. “But yeah. Not so much a new thing.”
“How long?”
“A year, about. I don’t know,” Andy pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them tightly, pressing his cheek to his knees and watching Patrick. He’d been dreading this conversation for a year, but somehow it wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. Patrick leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and watched him carefully. “It wasn’t a big thing, and then I guess it was, all of a sudden. And it didn’t really freak me out, but I didn’t know how to not freak everyone else out.”
“We wouldn’t have freaked out,” Patrick shook his head and Andy raised his eyebrows. “Okay, fine, maybe we would have freaked out a little, but its not like Pete wouldn’t have been setting you up with every dude he knew within a week.”
“Yeah, that was kind of my worry,” Andy grinned and Patrick grinned back.
They sat in silence for a few minutes and Andy wondered if that was it, if all of his anxiety about this, about Patrick finding out had been way overblown. Then Patrick cleared his throat a little and didn’t look up when he asked, “So. Was there, like. An impetus? Like, some particular guy you were dating or something?”
Andy tried to keep the flush out of his cheeks but his heart rate spiked and he thought, fucking hell, Patrick. How do you do that? as Patrick twisted his hands in front of him. “No,” he choked out and Patrick looked up and caught his eyes. Andy held his gaze for a few seconds and Patrick’s eyes brightened in a way Andy hadn’t seen in over two years. He rubbed his hands on his knees and looked out the window. “No particular guy.”
“Oh,” Patrick replied after a second and Andy felt him stand up. “We’re cool, right man?” he asked and Andy managed a small smile, still watching the streetlights speed by.
“Yeah, Trick. We’re always cool.”
**
It was weird. Once Patrick knew Andy’s secret, it stopped meaning much since, well. Andy stopped hooking up with people.
“What about that one?” Patrick asked one afternoon, pressed against Andy in the MTV studios and pointing subtly at a PA with blue bangs and a sweet smile. That one was pretty damn hot, to be fair, but Andy shook his head. “You don’t think that’s a terrible idea?” he asked with a wry smile and Patrick just shrugged and grinned.
“Ask if he’s doing anything after,” Patrick nudged him and Andy nudged back.
“You ask,” he laughed and Patrick shook his head.
“Not really my type,” he whispered close in Andy’s ear and Andy was saved from trying to answer by Joe’s elbow in his ribs.
“We’re on in ten seconds, guys,” he hissed and Andy made it through the on-air bit without blushing too badly.
“Seriously,” Patrick said in the green room after the blue-banged PA brought them some more water, “it’s been, like, two months.”
Andy shot him a keep your fucking voice down look and Patrick sighed dramatically. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re a little busy these days, Patrick.”
“Whatever,” Patrick shot him a tolerant half-smile. “Pete can still manage random hookups, even in the middle of new album press.”
Yeah, well. I’m not Pete.” Andy shot back and Patrick shook his head.
“It’s not like you’re not hot enough to pull-“
“Maybe I’m looking for something a little more meaningful than that,” Andy mumbled and shuffled out of the room before he could register Patrick’s thoughtful stare.
**
“I brought provisions,” Patrick grinned from the doorway later that night. He held up a plastic bag from the drug store down the street. He’d gotten Andy a Coke and a bag of chips and a bag of M&Ms for himself, jumping onto the bed on his side of the room. Andy nodded and turned back to his comic. The TV was on in the large wooden cabinet, tuned to CNN on mute. The MTV stuff was over, but they had another three interviews scheduled for the next day, and a meeting with Bob about the tour dates.
“You in for the night?” he asked. Pete and Joe and Charlie had headed out to some club. Andy wasn’t in much of a club mood these days.
“Yeah, think so,” Patrick said and tugged off his hoodie. Andy was shirtless already-he’d taken to turning the A/C almost off in his hotel rooms. (Pete accused him of watching An Inconvenient Truth one too many times.) Patrick flipped through channels with the mute still on, not really pausing on anything. A minute later he turned the TV off and cleared his throat. “So.”
Andy glanced over. “So?”
“So, um. I kind of met somebody.”
Andy curled his fingers around the edge of his comic to keep himself from throwing it against the wall. “Yeah?” he managed. Where the hell Patrick had managed to meet somebody was beyond him. Maybe over the break in Chicago, after the album was finally in the can. Maybe someone from the studio. Maybe… “Exciting walk back from the Duane Reade?” he joked.
Patrick bit his lip, suddenly serious. “It’s been a long time coming, and I’m not sure he really feels the same way about me,” he mumbled, not meeting Andy’s eyes.
Faller. Faller or Darren Wilson, it had to be. Mainly because if it was Travis fucking McCoy, Andy was going to have to put his foot through a window. Travis was no where near good enough for Patrick, and if he thought he could string Patrick along…
“Andy?” Patrick was watching him, almost smiling.
“Yeah, sorry.” He sat up slowly and tossed the comic aside. “Um. Does he know? How you feel?”
Patrick laughed lightly. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
Andy nodded, his heart racing stupidly. Patrick was actually sitting here talking to him about some other guy, and all Andy could think was he’d lost his shot. Again. “So, you’re-“
“Here’s the thing, right? I mean, it’s been forever since Tom, and its not like Anna and I weren’t, you know. Active? But it’s not really the same,” Patrick barreled through and Andy’s stomach dropped to his knees, “and this guy. I think he’s got a lot more experience with guys than I do, and I don’t want to be the fucking blushing virgin here. I mean, maybe at eighteen it would have been cute, but at twenty-one its kind of a joke.” He laughed nervously and Andy twisted his fingers in the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.
“Patrick, what are you-“
“Any chance you’d be up for a refresher course?” Patrick asked, chewing on his lower lip like he had no idea what that would do to Andy, to his ability to say no.
“What the hell, Patrick?” Andy asked, voice almost a squeak at the end.
Patrick stood up and paced for a few seconds before settling on Andy’s bed, their thighs not quite touching. “It’s been, like, two months for you, right? So I figure, you get laid, I get over this insane case of nerves, it’s a win-win.” He looked down at his own hands as Andy sat frozen next to him, eyes fixed on the pale line of Patrick’s neck.
This could not possibly be happening.
There were so many reasons this was a bad idea, they were hard to sort out-- all clamoring for attention in Andy’s head. Two in particular were huge and unmistakable: first and foremost was that Andy was not any sort of expert on gay sex, seeing as he’d never actually had any. That and the fact that he was still stupidly, painfully in love with Patrick Stump.
But the second thought didn’t form like it should have. It took over and swelled and Andy’s hands shook a little when he reached out and pressed his fingertips to the side of Patrick’s leg, up the seam of his jeans. Patrick was offering, again, was asking Andy to touch him, and he wanted to be able to, he wanted to touch, he wanted to hear. He wanted.
Patrick was gazing at him with those insanely green eyes when Andy looked back up, and he barely got through a nod before Patrick’s mouth was on his hungrily.
Andy moaned and leaned in closer. Patrick was turned into his side, hands sliding up Andy’s arms. Andy’s fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of Patrick’s neck and held him there as he slowed the kiss down, made it deeper, sweeter. Patrick made a small hitched sound, his fingers tightening on Andy’s biceps. By the time Patrick pushed at him, pressing him down to the mattress and licking a hot line down to Andy’s clavicle, Andy was already so hard he could feel the metal press of his zipper against his dick.
Andy closed his eyes, tried to will his heartbeat slower, but Patrick’s mouth was as skilled as ever, his hands drifting up Andy’s sides. Andy bit his lip and valiantly managed not to whimper when Patrick’s thumb grazed over his nipple, but he grabbed at Patrick’s back and pulled him closer. He bunched the fabric between in his fingers and yanked up, and Patrick shivered when Andy’s hand hit bare skin. When he pressed up further, Patrick grunted, annoyed, and sat back to yank the shirt over his head and toss it to the floor, his hat getting mixed up in the jumble.
In the three seconds that Patrick’s face was obscured by the shirt, Andy tried to figure out how the hell he got here, with Patrick flushed and shirtless over him. He was taking advantage again somehow, he knew that in the back of his mind, but Patrick didn’t let him finish the thought. His arm flailed to the side out of the shirt and he cursed, laughing. “Fucking clothes,” he grinned down at Andy and Andy couldn’t help but smile back.
“I keep telling you shirts are totally unnecessary,” he agreed and Patrick rolled his eyes.
“Maybe for you,” he shook his head, and Andy was distracted by the milky white of Patrick’s skin.
“Shut up,” he admonished and sat up to pull Patrick closer, biting at the soft tendon of Patrick’s neck.
“Fuck,” Patrick breathed against his temple. Andy wrapped his arm around Patrick’s waist and pulled him closer. Patrick swung one leg over Andy’s hips, straddling his lap. Andy traced his tongue over the pale freckles along Patrick’s shoulder. It was almost exactly like in his fantasies, except Patrick’s skin was slightly salty and Patrick’s breath was hot on his neck and Patrick’s nails were scratching along his back and okay. This was a trillion times better than anything Andy’s head had ever managed to come up with. He sucked hard enough to bruise and Patrick whimpered and shifted against him. The friction caught Andy by surprise and he bucked up with a gasp.
Patrick laughed, his pupils blown, his hair already sticking to his temple a little with sweat. “Two months, huh?” he asked with a sly grin, grinding his hips down. Patrick popped the button of Andy’s jeans open and slipped his fingers along the sensitive skin there. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“God, you have no idea,” Andy whispered against Patrick’s mouth, pulling him down to the bed and winding his calf around Patrick’s. Patrick didn’t break the kiss as he reached into Andy’s jeans and palmed over his cock. Andy bit down on Patrick’s lower lip in surprise and Patrick groaned, licking lightly at the spot.
“Fucking pants,” Patrick nosed against Andy’s throat before rising to his knees and tugging off Andy’s jeans. His boxers came with, the whole mess tossed to the side with Patrick’s shirt. Andy’s cock lay heavy against his belly and Patrick licked his lips again, absently. Andy knew if Patrick made any move at all to suck him off, it would be all over. He’d replayed that so many times in his head over the last few years, it was basically sense memory at this point-Patrick’s mouth plus Andy’s cock equaled instant orgasm.
Before Patrick could get any stupid ideas, Andy sat up again and tugged open Patrick’s jeans. His mouth was even with Patrick’s chest and he flicked his tongue over Patrick’s nipple. Patrick hummed softly, his fingers tangling in Andy’s hair as he kissed down his chest. Andy couldn’t help but smile against his skin as he felt Patrick try to suck in his stomach a fraction. He pulled Patrick’s jeans past his hips. “Andy, I-“, but whatever Patrick had been started to say died in his throat as Andy wrapped a fist around Patrick’s cock and tugged lightly. He was already leaking, skin hot and slick under Andy’s fingers, and Andy didn’t even try to stop himself from leaning in and sliding the plane of his tongue over the head slowly, noting Patrick’s shudder as his tongue piercing hit sensitive nerves. “Oh, God, don’t,” Patrick’s voice was tight and frantic, tugging on his hair until Andy looked up, running Patrick’s cock over his lower lip.
Patrick’s eyes were huge. “Seriously, you can’t just. Fuck, Andy,” he pushed Andy back, kicking his jeans to the foot of the bed and laying back down to kiss him again. Andy hadn’t been kissed this much in… ever, probably, and he was sure his lips would be chapped and sore in the morning. He closed his eyes as Patrick’s tongue slid against his jaw and thought that it was a good thing most of tomorrow’s interviews were for radio, what with the beard burn they were both sure to be sporting in the morning.
Their kissing lost all focus when Patrick rolled on top of him and pressed down, their cocks sliding against each other. Andy’s brain short-circuited and he wondered why in the hell he hadn’t done this before, with some willing boy in the last year, but then Patrick’s mouth was open and panting at his throat, and his strained “oh, fuck, fuck” made Andy’s spine tingle and he thought, Right, this is why.
They had just managed to find a rhythm that made Andy’s eyes roll into the back of his head when Patrick pulled away with a grunt. “Don’t. Fucking. Move,” he said before rolling off the bed and grabbing the plastic drug store bag. He dumped the contents onto the bed and Andy’s stomach tightened.
“Patrick,” he blinked at the pile of assorted condoms and bottles of lube.
“I know,” Patrick shrugged, blushing a little. “I didn’t know what you were used to, so I figured I’d just get an assortment? And don’t call me a fucking boy scout,” he grinned and climbed back into bed, settling on his back next to Andy. “I’m pretty sure they frown on this sort of thing.”
Andy was pretty sure he was going to throw up. Patrick didn’t know what he was used to? This was going to fuck up everything, if he did this. There was no going back, giving Patrick a second first time if he fucked this up. “Patrick, this is…”
“Come on, Hurley,” Patrick said low in his ear, pressing a bottle of lube in his palm. “It’s not going to fuck anything up.” Andy looked at him sharply. “I’ve known you forever, dude,” Patrick smiled at him. “You think louder than any guy I know. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t been practicing. I know what I’m in for.”
That was almost too much information. It was certainly enough information to make Andy’s cock throb with want at the mental image. Andy pressed his face into Patrick’s shoulder. “Fuck, Patrick, I just. This is kind of a big deal, you know?”
“Hey,” he nudged Andy with his foot. “I know. I do. I want it to be you, okay?”
Andy squeezed his eyes shut and wished he were a better person, that he could stop this. Instead, he kissed Patrick’s shoulder and slid to his knees. “Yeah, okay.”
The lube was cold on his fingers and Patrick hissed as Andy pressed his middle finger to his entrance. The angle was odd and reached up to grab a pillow, sliding it uncer Patrick’s ass. “Better?” he asked and Patrick nodded, eyes fixed on the ceiling, hands flat on the mattress.
When he pressed inside, Patrick’s breath caught hard. The pressure was hot and hard around Andy’s hand and he felt every inch as Patrick slowly relaxed around him. The second finger was harder, and Andy had to remind him to “breathe, Patrick, Christ,” even though he was barely breathing himself.
“I’m. It’s fine,” Patrick gritted out and Andy’s stomach twisted. What if he was doing this all wrong? Patrick relaxed in increments until Andy could slide his fingers in all the way, taking care not to force anything. He gave a few experimental thrusts and Patrick’s next breath was stuttered and shaky.
“Here, c’mon,” Patrick panted, hands scrabbling over the sheets to grab a condom and press it into Andy’s palm. His gaze shifted from the condom in his hand to where his fingers were slipping out of Patrick, slick and hot. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath through his nose. His fingers were shaking too hard to open the wrapper, and he couldn’t look up, couldn’t bear to see Patrick watching him, waiting for him to make this right, make this perfect. He felt the nudge of Patrick’s thigh against his hip. “Andy?” Patrick said, so quietly and Andy pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, the plastic wrapper digging angrily into his palm.
“Fuck,” he said brokenly.
“Andy--,” Patrick started, but Andy shook his head violently, eyes squeezed shut.
“I can’t fucking do this,” he whispered, his throat hot and tight.
Everything stilled around him as Patrick exhaled one shaky breath. When he spoke, his voice was tight and even. “Why?” Andy wondered how much tension it was taking, how much control to make it sound that way. When Andy hesitated, he added, “I was about four seconds away from begging, dude. You totally owe me at least an explanation.”
Andy sat back on his heels and leaned his head back, trying to not look at Patrick laid out in front of him, flushed and naked and trusting. “You deserve a hell of a lot better than me, Patrick. This should mean something, and I think-“
“Fuck that,” Patrick growled, pushing himself up to a sitting position and shaking Andy’s hip until he looked down. His mouth was still swollen, ginger hair brushing bare shoulders, and there was a mark on his throat that made Andy remember the rush of his pulse under his tongue. “I asked you, Andy. If you were-“
“I know, I’m an asshole, but if you really want to do this-“
“--going to be a dick about it-“
“-you should probably ask someone who’s actually done this before.”
“-you could have just said no. Wait, what?”
Andy could feel himself flush to his toes. He thought at least his erection should start to ebb away, what with the mortification, but Patrick was still so fucking close, so fucking naked that Andy’s personal sense of self-preservation was totally overridden by his libido. When Patrick’s thumb brushed his hip gently, he shuddered.
“Andy,” Patrick sighed. “God, why didn’t you… If this isn’t what you’re in to-“
Andy couldn’t stop his small, surprised laugh. “That’s not it, Trick.”
Patrick rolled his eyes, a tiny grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well, fuck. I mean, it’s been a year, dude. What the hell were you waiting for?”
Andy’s mouth went bone dry. He scrambled for an answer, something flippant and easy, but all he could focus on was Patrick’s hand on his hip, Patrick’s cock, inches from his own. This is what he was waiting for, and now it was all slipping away. By the time he looked into Patrick’s eyes, he could see the realization dawning. He had to get up, get away before Patrick could drag the whole fucking thing out of him. He’d apologize tomorrow. He wiped his slick hand hastily on the bedspread and slipped one leg out from under him, edging off the bed.
But Patrick was faster, winding his arm tight around Andy’s waist and pulling him forward. “No,” Patrick said, firmly but a little panicked, and kissed him hard.
Andy didn’t even try to pull away, just leaned in and sighed. Patrick shifted him closer and Andy was thrown completely off balance, his whole weight pushing them both back down to the bed. Patrick’s arm never left his waist and they both moaned as their bodies lined up, Patrick arching as their cocks brushed together again.
Fuck, Andy thought, because Patrick clearly didn’t quite get it. Whatever his realization had been, it had clearly not been accompanied by the neon sign that read ‘Andy Is In Love With You. This Is A Bad Idea.’ that flashed so clearly across Andy’s brain. Patrick’s fingers tangled in his hair and his tongue teased against Andy’s piercing and god, life was so fucking unfair. “Trick,” he managed finally, pulling away with every fucking ounce of effort he could muster.
“Andy, yeah,” Patrick breathed against his neck before sucking hard, his hips rolling a little underneath them. Andy’s arms shook with the effort of holding him up, away from Patrick’s body.
“Fuck, Patrick, stop,” he hissed. Patrick did, falling back to the pillow with wide, green eyes, and Andy felt like crying. “I don’t-“
“I’m a little bit of an idiot,” Patrick said conversationally, still panting a bit. Andy was thrown off enough that he lost his train of thought entirely. “Cause, you know. When you like somebody, and you think maybe they like you but you aren’t sure, you don’t want to, you know. Put yourself out there? So you make up this stupid-okay, so it’s not exactly a lie, about how there’s this guy you like? And you’re not sure if they like you back? And it’s just because it’s so much easier than saying ‘so, I’ve kind of been crushing on you for two months now, ever since I found out you like guys’, cause maybe that’s lame? A little? I mean, how the fuck do you say ‘hey, yeah, I know we’ve been friends forever and all, but I’d really like to have a lot of sex with you now’?”
Patrick ran out of steam when he realized that Andy hadn’t moved an inch through his whole speech. He bit his lip, worrying it a little between his teeth, and Andy felt a burst of heat in his chest, a wave of giddy, stupid happiness. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say that for four years, Trick,” he answered finally.
“That’s. A really long time,” Patrick breathed.
“Yeah,” Andy nodded and Patrick pushed Andy’s hair behind his ear and tucked his hand behind Andy’s neck.
“C’mere,” Patrick pulled and Andy followed, letting Patrick gently kiss his cheek, his jaw, his mouth. “Should have told me,” he said against Andy’s lips and Andy just nodded and slid his hands down Patrick’s sides, laughing lightly as Patrick squirmed under him. “I’m ticklish, fucker,” he inhaled, and Andy palmed his hip.
“I know,” he grinned and Patrick growled playfully leaned in to nip at his neck, then at his earlobe, pausing when Andy whimpered.
“Like that, huh?” Patrick nosed against his neck before licking at the shell of Andy’s ear.
Hot sparks shot straight down Andy’s spine to his dick and he hitched his hips against Patrick’s thigh. “Yeah, oh, fuck,” he stuttered as Patrick’s licking turned to sucking and Patrick ground up into him again, his cock pressed hot and hard into Andy’s belly. They rolled against each other for another minute before Patrick pulled back with a loud groan.
“I know this is all… fraught with emotion now, or whatever,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, “but seriously? I still really, really want you to fuck me.”
Andy blinked down at him, his brain still trying to recover from the ear thing. Patrick grinned slowly at him. “Please?” he added and Andy just shook his head, grinning back.
“Manipulating, much?” he said, but Patrick was already pressing the bottle of lube back into his hand, shifting up on the bed so Andy could settle back between his thighs. This time it was easy, Patrick’s body opening for his fingers with a few stuttered sighs. Andy’s hand drifted up over Patrick’s stomach and Patrick’s hand grabbed his and held on tightly as Andy finger fucked him as deeply as he could go.
“Oh, oh, s-shit,” Patrick bucked when Andy’s middle finger stroked at just the right angle and Andy made sure to his that spot a few more times before sliding his fingers out slowly, gently.
Patrick didn’t even bother Andy with the condom wrapper this time, just ripping one open with his teeth and handing the condom over with an impatient “Here.”
“You’re an incurable romantic, Patrick,” Andy noted wryly as he rolled it on and Patrick’s huff came out more like a chuckle.
“Just. Don’t punk out on me again,” he replied and Andy couldn’t help himself, slicking up his cock and wrapping his other hand around Patrick’s. Patrick cursed and slammed his hand into the mattress.
Andy’s stomach was all butterflies again. Patrick was sweat-slick and flushed, watching him through half-lidded eyes, and Andy still wanted this to be perfect. More perfect. He rested his whole weight on one arm and used the other to guide his cock forward, pausing when Patrick’s hands came up to grip his shoulders. “Stop thinking, Andy,” Patrick murmured, and Andy pressed forward as Patrick exhaled.
It was slow, agonizingly, amazingly slow and hot and tight, and Andy was pretty sure he would last about half a minute if Patrick didn’t relax a little here. He paused again when Patrick made a small chocked sound, his fingers scrabbling over Andy’s shoulders. “Fuck, Trick, what do you-“
“Don’t fucking stop, I swear to god,” Patrick whispered and shifted forward a fraction, winding one leg around Andy’s waist. All of a sudden, Andy was there, pressed all the way inside and Patrick was keening under him, muttering “fuck, fuck” under his breath as Andy fucked him slowly, his arms shaking from exertion. Patrick leaned up and Andy met him halfway for a kiss that was more whimpering contact than actual kissing.
When Patrick reached down to stroke his own cock, neck arching back at the contact, Andy had to close his eyes to not come right there. “Fuck, Patrick,” he breathed against Patrick’s neck. “Fucking wanted this. So long.”
“Andy,” Patrick panted, and then he was coming, hot streaks hitting Andy’s chest. Andy could feel Patrick’s orgasm everywhere, muscles tightening around him and reverberations from Patrick’s long, loud groan. Andy tried to keep his rhythm-slow and easy and gentle-but Patrick turned his head to bite at Andy’s ear again and his hips jerked enough to make them both curse.
“Sorry, sorry,” Andy shook his head and Patrick spoke low in his ear, his voice lazy and hoarse.
“Come on, wanna feel you come.”
If Andy had made his own perfect porn film, that would have totally been the culminating line, with Patrick well-fucked beneath him, and it was only a few more thrusts before Andy felt a burst of heat along his spine, coming with a full-body shudder and collapsing into Patrick’s chest.
They lay there just trying to breathe for a few long moments before Patrick kissed his neck with a smile. “Not bad for a novice.”
Andy snorted. “Like you would know,” he replied and shifted a fraction, pulling out slowly.
“Point,” Patrick laughed. “But still, pretty fucking awesome, right?”
“Yeah, pretty awesome.” Andy rolled out of bed to toss the condom in the bathroom. His fingers were still tingling as he washed his hands. He caught his reflection in the mirror-flushed and red and peppered with tiny bruises-and shook his head in disbelief.
“Come snuggle with me, you asshole!” Patrick yelled from the other room. “You suck at this devirgining thing!”
Patrick was already tucked up under the covers. “Come on,” he tugged hard on Andy’s hand until Andy was pressed against his side. Patrick turned and tucked his head under Andy’s chin. “So,” he said, and Andy could tell he was smiling. “Four years, huh?”
“Yeah, well,” Andy’s cheeks burned but Patrick just nosed against his shoulder and sighed.
“I’m just saying, that’s a while.”
“Patrick-“
“I mean, I was, what? Seventeen?”
“Shut up,” Andy grinned into Patrick’s hair.
“No, that’s fine. I’m just going to have to get used to the fact that my boyfriend is a dirty old man, that’s all.”
“I hate you,” Andy answered, his fingers stroking over Patrick’s spine.
“I hate you too,” Patrick yawned. “Also, you get to tell Pete we’re dating tomorrow.”
“Wha- why me?”
“You’ve known him longer. Also, if he rips your arm off, you can still play one handed, like the dude in Def Leopard.”
Andy closed his eyes. “Your logic is truly terrifying.”
“You could have had me four years ago, and my logic is flawed?” Patrick poked him in the side.
Andy thought about that statement for exactly half a second before deciding he could never, ever think about all that lost time ever again. “Point taken. Sleep.”
But Patrick was already out like a light, his hand curled around Andy’s wrist. Andy lay in bed and grinned at the ceiling for a while longer.
Andy/Patrick
NC-17
~9000 words (~14000 total)
Disclaimer: never happened, etc.
Note: About eighteen months ago, I started a fic wherein Andy Hurley falls in love with Patrick Stump's perfect cocksucking mouth, and I left him kind of sadly bereft. Those of you who know me know I can't do that to ANY of my boys for long, so I have finally fixed it with a chapter that is twice as long as the other two put together. Thanks to schuyler for the beta and encouragment, and this is dedicated to Quinn and Jorithy who poked and prodded me to finish this lo these long months. And to Andy, who deserves everything he gets.
Parts 1 & 2
III.
On Saturday, Andy woke up restless and agitated. He called Pete and blew off their movie and got in his car. He drove aimlessly, his CD player cranking System of a Down. After two hours, he admitted to himself that it was a damn good thing he didn’t have any idea where Tom lived. After three, he admitted that okay, fine, maybe this Patrick thing wasn’t just going to go away. After three and a half-the last thirty minutes of which had been spent replaying Patrick’s afternoon in his room, the feeling of Patrick’s mouth on him, the slide of his tongue, his hair soft under Andy’s fingers-Andy pulled off the road into a small deserted parking lot and jerked off in his car.
He sat blinking at the blue cloth roof for a long time, his head buzzing. Patrick didn’t think of him as anything more than a friend. Except possibly a practice dummy. Not that he had any reason to. Not that Andy wanted him to. He slammed his hand into the ceiling of the car until it was burned red from the fabric.
After an hour, Andy started his car and drove straight into the city and parked at Highland. There was really only one thing in the world that hurt more than the dull ache in his chest and for the next few hours Andy was grateful for it.
**
Andy had almost forgotten about the new tattoo a week later. The sting was gone and the lines screamed orange and red across his back, his backpiece wider and brighter. They’d been rehearsing in Pete’s garage with the door closed to keep out the cold, and after two hours it was hot enough that Andy took off his shirt. He tossed it behind his drum kit, narrowly missing his glasses. Patrick was behind him fiddling with some amp wires and Andy almost jumped out of his skin when he felt tentative fingers on his shoulder.
“Is this new?” Patrick asked quietly and Andy nodded as his fingers traced down Andy’s back. “I like it. It’s dark, but I can’t tell if the orange makes it brighter or more angry.”
Andy looked over his shoulder and blinked at Patrick. “That’s the point, a little. I wasn’t sure either…”
“Cool,” Patrick smiled at him and Andy felt himself smiling back.
After practice, Pete slung an arm around Patrick’s shoulders while Andy and Joe took apart Andy’s kit. “So, big plans with your college boy this weekend?”
Patrick didn’t answer right away. Andy focused on the straps of his drum cases rather than see his flushed smile.
“Hey, you okay Trick?” Andy’s head snapped up at Pete’s tone. Patrick had pulled himself away and was busying himself with his amp.
“’M fine,” he noted quickly, winding a cord around his elbow. “Tom and I broke up,” he added breezily, not quite looking Pete in the eye. Andy froze.
“Man, that fucking sucks, dude,” Pete placed a comforting hand at the nape of Patrick’s neck. He didn’t press for details.
Patrick just shrugged. “Whatever. The touring bullshit was really getting to him and god knows I’ll be doing that until I die at this rate, so we just, you know. It’s for the best, probably.”
“Yeah,” Joe stood up and grinned at him. “Free and easy, man. That’s the best plan anyhow. Bros before, well, okay that doesn’t really work, huh?”
Patrick laughed but Andy noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Absolutely, dude. Bros before whatever.” Andy came up behind him and opened the garage door. He didn’t say anything; just let Patrick follow him out.
The car was pretty much packed before Andy said a word, leaning in close, but not too close. Patrick’s usually pale skin was flushed from the wind and Andy was horrified by how strong the urge was to tuck an errant lock of hair behind Patrick’s ear. “You really okay?” he almost whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Pete was still in the house.
“Yeah,” Patrick’s smile was thin but real. “It didn’t… it’s fine.”
“What happened?” Andy asked, and almost winced as it came out of his mouth. It wasn’t any of his business, really, and Patrick would volunteer the information if he wanted to but--
“He broke your Golden Rule,” Patrick said, flushing brighter and not looking up from where he was scraping the frost off his mom’s windshield. “And you’re right. It totally sucked.”
“Oh,” Andy said. Tom’s a fucking idiot, Andy thought. Patrick shot him another half-smile and shrugged into the car. As he backed out of the driveway, Andy waved. When Patrick smiled wider, Andy’s stomach flipped so hard he almost threw up.
I am so totally fucked, he finally admitted to himself. But at least he’s single now. Andy decided that four weeks was good. A respectable month post-breakup and he could maybe, possibly talk to Patrick about this… thing. That he was feeling.
**
Three months later, Andy was still jerking off in the shower to fantasies of Patrick bent over the seat of the van and Patrick was still none the wiser.
“Hey,” Patrick sat down in the booth and grinned at Andy and Pete. “Did we order?”
“We did, and you’re having the tempeh BLT.” Pete kicked rhythmically at the seat. Patrick hummed in thanks. Andy actively studied his cell phone and not Patrick’s mouth. “You coming to the show tonight?” The Academy was playing and Pete promised William… well, Pete promised William all sorts of things. Andy had already begged out.
“Can’t,” Patrick stole Andy’s Dew and took a long sip before sliding it back across the table. “I have a thing.”
Pete’s eyebrows rose.
“It’s nothing! It’s a nothing thing. With a person.” Patrick was pink, and Andy pretended to type while trying not to crush his phone.
“Trick.” Pete said, grinning. “You have a date.”
“Yes.” Patrick tugged his hat lower and glared at Pete. “Fuck off.”
Pete uncrossed his legs and leaned forward on his elbows. As he opened his mouth, Patrick cut him off. “Her name is Anna. I met her at a vinyl shop. Yes, she’s taller than me. Yes, she’s legal. No, she doesn’t want to sleep with you. I have no idea if she’s ever read Hemingway, nor do I intend to make her read any. That’s it. Shut the fuck up.”
Pete laughed, sat back and crossed his arms. “Sounds okay.”
“Yeah,” Patrick said, and his smile was small and a little dazed. “She really does.”
“’scuse me,” Andy nudged Pete with his knee. “I just remembered I have to get into the city,” he said as Pete slid over to let him out. “Trick can have my fries.” He threw ten dollars on the table and was halfway out the door when he heard Patrick’s low questioning mumble and Pete’s …don’t know… just weird lately…
Andy was long past due for a new tattoo.
**
“Hey, baby,” Patrick rumbled low into the phone, turning so he faced the window of the van. “No, we’re almost there,” he said and laughed low at Anna’s reply. Andy curled up tighter with his book - The Virgin Suicides, a loaner from Pete-and tried to tune it out. They were almost to the venue and Andy jumped out of the van quickly when they pulled into the parking lot, not needing another round of ‘no, you hang up first’. They quickly unpacked the trailer (the new one, after the Jersey Incident a few months back) and Andy let the techs at the venue help him with his kit.
One of them was named Melissa, or maybe Melinda, and she was cute in a lanky, skater way. After the show, Melissa-maybe-Melinda found him backstage and smiled and bit her lip and Andy let her take him home, back to a ratty apartment with an unmade double bed. He pressed her against the inside of her door, slid his hands over her pale skin, sucked at the piercing in her nipple, listened to her moan. It was hot, just like it had been with Abby-maybe-Addy in Cleveland and Kristen-maybe-Kirsten in St. Louis. It was good, and fun, and better than climbing in the van after a set and watching Patrick check his voice mail and smile softly to himself. It was better than sharing a room with Joe, or Charlie, or god forbid Patrick himself, laying there in the dark and hating himself quietly. When Melissa-maybe-Melinda came with a harsh cry, arching against her headboard, Andy looked down at her and thought maybe he was going about this the wrong way.
**
“Fuck,” Andy breathed as he came, his hand spasming on the toilet paper holder, head banging back into the blue metal of the stall door with a hollow thud. He blinked a few times before looking down. “Hey,” he said quietly, the word tasting bitter. “Um,” he bit his lower lip as the boy stood, short spiky hair brushing Andy’s sternum.
The boy kissed him quickly before Andy could react. He could taste the sweetness of rum and cokes under the salty bitter of himself and blinked at how much it didn’t gross him out, not really. “You’re welcome,” the boy (Danny, he was pretty sure this one was Danny, though the club was really loud) said with a knowing smile and reached behind Andy, unlocking the door and slipping out into the bathroom. Andy waited until he heard the screaming noise from the club through the open bathroom door before tugging his pants closed and following.
Back at the hotel, Andy slipped into his room as quietly as possible. Patrick was already passed out in the other bed, half on his stomach, fingers curling into his pillow. He paused for a minute just to watch and tried to shake the hotcold wave of nausea that snuck up on him. He’d been doing this for long enough that it was officially a secret, six months of random hookups in bar bathrooms and back alleys and backseats. He tried to make sure they didn’t look like Patrick. He tried to make sure he was getting off on it for all the right reasons.
And he was. Mostly. Andy was a pragmatic guy, and it made sense to him that liking dick was liking dick, and maybe he should make sure this Patrick thing wasn’t a fluke. And it wasn’t. Not by a long shot. By the third or fourth time (Jackson, that name he remembered, smiling), he wasn’t thinking about Patrick when a boy went down on him, biting at his hip and sucking him down like it was a fucking treat. Jackson had been so into it, and Andy couldn’t help palming a hand over the bulge in his jeans when he stood. When Jackson whimpered, a breathy “oh, fuck”, against Andy’s collar, it had been easy to tug them open, slip his hand inside and jerk him off until Jackson came with a shudder.
It was the first time Andy had ever touched another guy’s dick, and it was surprisingly non-traumatic. Andy grinned at him and they ended up kissing lazily for another fifteen minutes before Jackson slipped away with a “hope I see you around here again” and a smile.
But that was five months ago, and they hadn’t made it back to New Mexico. And it had still never gone further than furtive blowjobs in semi-public places. Not that Andy didn’t think about it sometimes, pressing one of these boys into a wall and fucking him hard, but it wasn’t ever… right.
Patrick sighed in his sleep and shifted on his pillow. Andy retreated to the bathroom to shower and was annoyed to find a bite mark on his hip, high enough that it would be visible over the waistband of his low-rise jeans. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered and ran his fingers over the bruise.
**
“Oh my God,” Patrick said, eyes wide and laughing. He turned his face into Andy’s shoulder. “Please, tell me when its over.”
Andy laughed too, shaking his head and trying not to watch as Pete slid a little closer to his new protégé. Ryan Ross was a skinny little fuck, all big eyes and tentative smiles, with just a dash of hero worship that was visible all the way across the room. Pete wasn’t smooth, but with Ryan he really didn’t need to be. Pete put his hand around Ryan’s shoulder and Andy snorted into his soda as Ryan’s eyes got even bigger. “This is not going to end well,” he said quiet enough that only Patrick could hear.
“Please, seriously,” Patrick lifted his head and looked at Andy pleadingly. “If you love me at all, Hurley, don’t say another word. I want to pretend Pete isn’t about to get sued for sexually harassing an employee.”
“To be fair, the employee looks okay with it,” Andy noted and Patrick just groaned.
“We should never have let him go to Vegas.”
“Come on,” Andy tugged at Patrick’s arm. “Let’s get out of here before…” he paused as Pete leaned in close and whispered low in Ryan’s ear. Ryan opened his mouth and then shut it quickly, nodding and blushing. “Okay, now. Now is good.”
He and Patrick fled the party together, waving to Joe as they grabbed their jackets and laughing as they tumbled out into the night air. The hotel was more of a motel, with a large swimming pool in the middle that Andy knew better than to swim in. Dirty and Pete and Charlie had been out there all afternoon.
“Dude, he is seriously going to get arrested one of these days. He’s just lucky Jeanae’s parents are so easy-going.” Patrick shrugged into his hoodie and pulled his hat down.
“It’s not that bad,” Andy stuffed his hands in his pockets as they walked. It had been warm, but the sky was clear and the night was colder than he’d expected.
“Come on,” Patrick rolled his eyes. “It’s like he has a rulebook that says ‘no one over 18 allowed in my pants’.”
“Nothing wrong with liking ‘em a little young,” Andy said, glancing sidelong at Patrick. When Patrick looked back, windswept and grinning, Andy winked.
Inside Andy froze. Outside, he barely kept breathing. Patrick just blinked at him and then laughed, bumping his shoulder as they walked. “Classy, dude.”
“I try,” Andy covered, grateful his clammy hands were already in his pockets.
“It’s not like you bring your conquests back to the hotel room, though. Which I am grateful for, by the way.”
“No problem,” Andy laughed. It sounded a little hysterical in his own ears but Patrick didn’t seem to notice. “Figured you and your girl needed some alone time on the phone,” he forced a grin and Patrick blushed faintly.
“Yeah, well. Thanks,” he laughed. “If you ever need the room, though, just. It’s cool.”
“Okay,” Andy smiled at his feet, thinking of the look on Patrick’s face if he brought one of his ‘conquests’ back to the room. Like Carlos, the boy he jerked off last night in the back hallway of a hotel bar, cursing in Spanish as Andy bit at the tendon of his neck. Patrick might like Carlos-he’d been wearing a Morrissey shirt unironically.
They weren’t sharing a room that night-Andy had gotten Charlie in the room draw-but when they reached Patrick and Pete’s room, Patrick tugged at his sleeve. “Want to play some Nintendo, dude? Don’t leave me alone here,” he laughed and Andy didn’t even think about it.
“Sure,” he followed Patrick into his room and settled next to him against the headboard, ignoring the way his pulse sped up when Patrick tossed him a controller and smiled wide.
“Please don’t kick my ass so badly this time. It’s emasculating,” Patrick joked and Andy settled against his side.
“No promises, Stump.”
**
“I just. Can I just fly home and kick her ass?” Pete was talking quietly but his knee was shaking, a steady up-down motion that shook the table as Andy sat down, surveying it for breakfast possibilities. Joe looked pissed too, his jaw tightening.
“Not that I wouldn’t support it dude, but-“
“What’s going on?” Andy asked. He’d stumbled onto the bus just minutes before call, and was still barely conscious as the bus sped down some nameless highway to the next venue.
Pete looked at him sharply. “Patrick and Anna broke up last night,” he said venomously, and Andy didn’t need to ask whose idea it had been. “She was fucking cheating on him, can you believe that?”
Andy looked from Pete back toward the bunks. Patrick’s curtain was pulled tightly closed. “Seriously?”
“Fucking cunt,” Pete spat out.
“Pete,” Joe said, holding up his hand to make Pete lower his voice.
“He okay?” Andy asked, suddenly not hungry at all.
“Not really, no,” Joe muttered and Pete slid off the bench and stomped back to the bunks. Andy watched him shove Patrick’s curtain open and crawl inside, Patrick’s hoarse voice feigning annoyance until the curtain shut. “That’ll work until Pete tells him she was a stupid whore and he tries to defend her,” Joe said with a sigh and Andy sat back, dumbfounded.
“That’s. I mean, I didn’t see that coming,” he said finally.
“No one did,” Joe half-smiled. “I mean, who the fuck cheats on Patrick?”
Andy managed to avoid Patrick for most of the day. He just didn’t know what to say. He knew a sympathetic pat on the shoulder was more likely to piss Patrick off than be comforting, and he didn’t trust his hands anyway. They were at soundcheck by the time Andy managed to look at Patrick and say “You okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” Patrick said through clenched teeth, and Andy just nodded.
At the end of the show, Patrick disappeared fast and Andy took his time showering and changing. He was almost leaving when one of the venue ticket takers stopped him for an autograph.
“You guys were fucking awesome,” he said as Andy signed his poster, clearly ripped off the wall of the venue. Andy didn’t think anything of it until the boy slipped his thumb over Andy’s as he took his pen back. “So. You guys leaving right away?”
Andy wondered if he’d added another tattoo somewhere down the line, one that said ‘dick accepted here’.
“Uh, I don’t think so,” Andy bit his lip and the boy grinned.
“Awesome,” he replied and leaned in closer. “You want to check out the sound booth?” he asked and Andy glanced past him to the outside door to the venue. The whole band was probably already there, Joe and Pete and Dirty and Patrick, nursing a broken heart, and Andy felt like a total asshole, but yeah. He would much rather see the sound booth with… “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Luke,” the kid replied and Andy nodded.
“Let’s go,” he grinned and Luke led the way, glancing over his shoulder a few times like he wasn’t sure Andy was really there. It was nice.
“Here it is,” Luke opened the door to a small, dimly lit room at the top of the balcony area and Andy just closed the door behind them, nodding.
“Nice,” he said as Luke stepped into his chest, already breathing harder. “You come up here often?”
“Not really, no,” Luke smiled as he leaned in, and Andy let Luke lead the kiss, all lewd tongue and breathy gasps.
They weren’t at it long when Luke’s hands were on his fly, tugging and pulling until Andy’s jeans were around his thighs, Luke’s eager hands tugging on his cock until Andy was cursing into his mouth, pressing on his shoulder. Luke laughed against his mouth. “Okay, okay,” he nosed against Andy’s collar and Andy took a minute to think ‘yeah, this one isn’t too bad’ before Luke was sliding to his knees. Luke was good, really good at this, and Andy wasn’t thinking of anything much really, not about Patrick and the way he’d stomped through the show tonight, the way he’d avoided looking at anyone, the way his eyes were red and swollen… especially not about the door five feet away, and the fact that it was unlocked in a strange venue.
“Andy? Hey are you-“ Patrick’s voice cut through the blood rushing through Andy’s veins as the door slammed shut with a “fuck, fuck sorry”.
Luke pulled off wetly, eyes wide. “Shit, are you--” but Andy was already tugging his jeans closed.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Andy managed through the ice-cold shiver that rocked him to his toes. “Sorry, fuck,” he managed to say to Luke, still on his knees as Andy threw the door open and tried to figure out which way Patrick had gone.
He chose the wrong direction. By the time he trudged back to the bus half an hour later, Patrick was holed up in his bunk with music blasting.
“Dude, where the fuck were you?” Joe asked, already half-baked, and Andy shrugged him off. He stood outside Patrick’s bunk for a full minute before tugging his own bunk curtain open and crawling inside, heart beating fast enough to keep him awake through the wee hours of the night.
**
It was half a day before they were alone long enough for anything to come of it.
Andy wandered into the front lounge and Patrick was sitting in the sun, hat pushed back and earphones firmly on. Pete and Joe were both gone. Andy looked out the window to see a mega-truck stop. “Went for snacks?” he asked just loud enough that Patrick would hear him but not jump in surprise.
Patrick looked up and paused for a moment before nodding. Andy grabbed a Capri Sun from the fridge and headed back to his bunk. If he was lucky, Patrick would just…
“Andy,” Patrick said behind him, tentatively. He took a deep breath, then another, before turning around.
“Trick. It wasn’t,” Patrick was looking at him oddly, almost meeting his eyes but not quite making it. Andy’s stomach twisted. “I don’t know what to say, here,” he finally exhaled.
Patrick nodded shortly. “Yeah, okay.”
“It’s not something I do a lot,” Andy tried to explain, not quite sure if it was a lie. He didn’t hook up with guys nearly as much as he used to with girls, but it wasn’t like Luke was an aberration. “It’s just-“
“No, whatever, it’s fine,” Patrick said shortly, eyes back on his laptop. “Sorry if I fucked up your night.”
“Patrick-“
“No, look. It’s not my business, clearly, so. Whatever.” Patrick sounded annoyed in that way that always translated into hurt, and Andy wanted to be comforting but all he could do was dig his nails into his palms and try his best not to punch something.
“It’s really not,” he said shortly and he cringed inwardly as Patrick’s head jerked up.
“Fuck you,” Patrick said viciously and Andy took a step back. “I was trying to apologize for interrupting your… whatever. Random gay hookup. Which I am being incredibly cool about not calling you out on, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Andy said with half a sneer he couldn’t stop. He took half a step outside himself and tried to stop it, tried to get himself to walk away, to let himself cool down about this, let the embarrassment wash away before he said something he couldn’t take back. Before… “You were right the first time, though. It’s really not your fucking business.”
“Right,” Patrick nodded, cheeks bright red as he swept his laptop up in one arm and pushed past Andy to his bunk.
Andy wished the door to the bunk area slammed as he slid it closed with as much force as he could. He collapsed on the couch and sucked at his drink, arms hugged around his body until Joe and Pete stomped back on the bus. Joe tossed a bag of barbeque soy crisps into Andy’s lap. Andy valiantly managed not to cry.
**
I’m sorry. The note was short and attached to a new copy of The Smiths’ last album, the one Patrick had lost a month or so ago and bitched about weekly.
Andy left it on his pillow and waited. It had been a week since he’d made an ass out of himself and Patrick had been amazingly good at avoiding him. He just hoped things could go back… well, the way it had been was horribly frustrating, but at least then Patrick had talked to him.
Patrick found him after the show that night, tugging him into the back lounge and leaning on the door.
“I just wish you’d told me,” he said, and Andy wasn’t sure that was where he wanted to start, with big confessions.
“I didn’t tell anybody,” Andy replied, slipping off his shoes and tucking his feet under him on the sofa.
“Yeah, I got that,” Patrick said with a half-smile and Andy’s breath caught in his chest.
“You didn’t say anything to Pete, right?” he asked. If Pete knew, this would all get a lot less easy a lot more quickly.
Patrick snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause that would be a great plan.” Andy exhaled in a whoosh. Patrick sat heavily on the couch next to him. “You okay?” he asked kindly, and Andy thought it was a little stupid, like he should still be the one asking Patrick that, after Anna.
He nodded. “Yeah. Mortified, but okay,” he shrugged with a small laugh and Patrick leaned back, sighing.
“So was that… I mean tell me to shut up if you don’t want to talk about it, but. Was that, like, an anomaly?”
Andy could say yes. He could just nod and shrug it off and Patrick would believe him. He glanced over and Patrick was watching him with his head tilted to one side, his eyes curious and… something else. Thoughtful. Intrigued. “No,” he admitted, looking Patrick right in the eyes. Patrick took a sharp breath and Andy’s palms itched in a way they hadn’t in months.
“Okay,” Patrick nodded slowly and chewed at his lower lip.
“I mean, the sound booth thing was a new one, and clearly I won’t be trying that again,” Andy scratched at his elbow and wrinkled his nose as Patrick let out a short laugh of surprise. “But yeah. Not so much a new thing.”
“How long?”
“A year, about. I don’t know,” Andy pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them tightly, pressing his cheek to his knees and watching Patrick. He’d been dreading this conversation for a year, but somehow it wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. Patrick leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and watched him carefully. “It wasn’t a big thing, and then I guess it was, all of a sudden. And it didn’t really freak me out, but I didn’t know how to not freak everyone else out.”
“We wouldn’t have freaked out,” Patrick shook his head and Andy raised his eyebrows. “Okay, fine, maybe we would have freaked out a little, but its not like Pete wouldn’t have been setting you up with every dude he knew within a week.”
“Yeah, that was kind of my worry,” Andy grinned and Patrick grinned back.
They sat in silence for a few minutes and Andy wondered if that was it, if all of his anxiety about this, about Patrick finding out had been way overblown. Then Patrick cleared his throat a little and didn’t look up when he asked, “So. Was there, like. An impetus? Like, some particular guy you were dating or something?”
Andy tried to keep the flush out of his cheeks but his heart rate spiked and he thought, fucking hell, Patrick. How do you do that? as Patrick twisted his hands in front of him. “No,” he choked out and Patrick looked up and caught his eyes. Andy held his gaze for a few seconds and Patrick’s eyes brightened in a way Andy hadn’t seen in over two years. He rubbed his hands on his knees and looked out the window. “No particular guy.”
“Oh,” Patrick replied after a second and Andy felt him stand up. “We’re cool, right man?” he asked and Andy managed a small smile, still watching the streetlights speed by.
“Yeah, Trick. We’re always cool.”
**
It was weird. Once Patrick knew Andy’s secret, it stopped meaning much since, well. Andy stopped hooking up with people.
“What about that one?” Patrick asked one afternoon, pressed against Andy in the MTV studios and pointing subtly at a PA with blue bangs and a sweet smile. That one was pretty damn hot, to be fair, but Andy shook his head. “You don’t think that’s a terrible idea?” he asked with a wry smile and Patrick just shrugged and grinned.
“Ask if he’s doing anything after,” Patrick nudged him and Andy nudged back.
“You ask,” he laughed and Patrick shook his head.
“Not really my type,” he whispered close in Andy’s ear and Andy was saved from trying to answer by Joe’s elbow in his ribs.
“We’re on in ten seconds, guys,” he hissed and Andy made it through the on-air bit without blushing too badly.
“Seriously,” Patrick said in the green room after the blue-banged PA brought them some more water, “it’s been, like, two months.”
Andy shot him a keep your fucking voice down look and Patrick sighed dramatically. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re a little busy these days, Patrick.”
“Whatever,” Patrick shot him a tolerant half-smile. “Pete can still manage random hookups, even in the middle of new album press.”
Yeah, well. I’m not Pete.” Andy shot back and Patrick shook his head.
“It’s not like you’re not hot enough to pull-“
“Maybe I’m looking for something a little more meaningful than that,” Andy mumbled and shuffled out of the room before he could register Patrick’s thoughtful stare.
**
“I brought provisions,” Patrick grinned from the doorway later that night. He held up a plastic bag from the drug store down the street. He’d gotten Andy a Coke and a bag of chips and a bag of M&Ms for himself, jumping onto the bed on his side of the room. Andy nodded and turned back to his comic. The TV was on in the large wooden cabinet, tuned to CNN on mute. The MTV stuff was over, but they had another three interviews scheduled for the next day, and a meeting with Bob about the tour dates.
“You in for the night?” he asked. Pete and Joe and Charlie had headed out to some club. Andy wasn’t in much of a club mood these days.
“Yeah, think so,” Patrick said and tugged off his hoodie. Andy was shirtless already-he’d taken to turning the A/C almost off in his hotel rooms. (Pete accused him of watching An Inconvenient Truth one too many times.) Patrick flipped through channels with the mute still on, not really pausing on anything. A minute later he turned the TV off and cleared his throat. “So.”
Andy glanced over. “So?”
“So, um. I kind of met somebody.”
Andy curled his fingers around the edge of his comic to keep himself from throwing it against the wall. “Yeah?” he managed. Where the hell Patrick had managed to meet somebody was beyond him. Maybe over the break in Chicago, after the album was finally in the can. Maybe someone from the studio. Maybe… “Exciting walk back from the Duane Reade?” he joked.
Patrick bit his lip, suddenly serious. “It’s been a long time coming, and I’m not sure he really feels the same way about me,” he mumbled, not meeting Andy’s eyes.
Faller. Faller or Darren Wilson, it had to be. Mainly because if it was Travis fucking McCoy, Andy was going to have to put his foot through a window. Travis was no where near good enough for Patrick, and if he thought he could string Patrick along…
“Andy?” Patrick was watching him, almost smiling.
“Yeah, sorry.” He sat up slowly and tossed the comic aside. “Um. Does he know? How you feel?”
Patrick laughed lightly. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
Andy nodded, his heart racing stupidly. Patrick was actually sitting here talking to him about some other guy, and all Andy could think was he’d lost his shot. Again. “So, you’re-“
“Here’s the thing, right? I mean, it’s been forever since Tom, and its not like Anna and I weren’t, you know. Active? But it’s not really the same,” Patrick barreled through and Andy’s stomach dropped to his knees, “and this guy. I think he’s got a lot more experience with guys than I do, and I don’t want to be the fucking blushing virgin here. I mean, maybe at eighteen it would have been cute, but at twenty-one its kind of a joke.” He laughed nervously and Andy twisted his fingers in the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.
“Patrick, what are you-“
“Any chance you’d be up for a refresher course?” Patrick asked, chewing on his lower lip like he had no idea what that would do to Andy, to his ability to say no.
“What the hell, Patrick?” Andy asked, voice almost a squeak at the end.
Patrick stood up and paced for a few seconds before settling on Andy’s bed, their thighs not quite touching. “It’s been, like, two months for you, right? So I figure, you get laid, I get over this insane case of nerves, it’s a win-win.” He looked down at his own hands as Andy sat frozen next to him, eyes fixed on the pale line of Patrick’s neck.
This could not possibly be happening.
There were so many reasons this was a bad idea, they were hard to sort out-- all clamoring for attention in Andy’s head. Two in particular were huge and unmistakable: first and foremost was that Andy was not any sort of expert on gay sex, seeing as he’d never actually had any. That and the fact that he was still stupidly, painfully in love with Patrick Stump.
But the second thought didn’t form like it should have. It took over and swelled and Andy’s hands shook a little when he reached out and pressed his fingertips to the side of Patrick’s leg, up the seam of his jeans. Patrick was offering, again, was asking Andy to touch him, and he wanted to be able to, he wanted to touch, he wanted to hear. He wanted.
Patrick was gazing at him with those insanely green eyes when Andy looked back up, and he barely got through a nod before Patrick’s mouth was on his hungrily.
Andy moaned and leaned in closer. Patrick was turned into his side, hands sliding up Andy’s arms. Andy’s fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of Patrick’s neck and held him there as he slowed the kiss down, made it deeper, sweeter. Patrick made a small hitched sound, his fingers tightening on Andy’s biceps. By the time Patrick pushed at him, pressing him down to the mattress and licking a hot line down to Andy’s clavicle, Andy was already so hard he could feel the metal press of his zipper against his dick.
Andy closed his eyes, tried to will his heartbeat slower, but Patrick’s mouth was as skilled as ever, his hands drifting up Andy’s sides. Andy bit his lip and valiantly managed not to whimper when Patrick’s thumb grazed over his nipple, but he grabbed at Patrick’s back and pulled him closer. He bunched the fabric between in his fingers and yanked up, and Patrick shivered when Andy’s hand hit bare skin. When he pressed up further, Patrick grunted, annoyed, and sat back to yank the shirt over his head and toss it to the floor, his hat getting mixed up in the jumble.
In the three seconds that Patrick’s face was obscured by the shirt, Andy tried to figure out how the hell he got here, with Patrick flushed and shirtless over him. He was taking advantage again somehow, he knew that in the back of his mind, but Patrick didn’t let him finish the thought. His arm flailed to the side out of the shirt and he cursed, laughing. “Fucking clothes,” he grinned down at Andy and Andy couldn’t help but smile back.
“I keep telling you shirts are totally unnecessary,” he agreed and Patrick rolled his eyes.
“Maybe for you,” he shook his head, and Andy was distracted by the milky white of Patrick’s skin.
“Shut up,” he admonished and sat up to pull Patrick closer, biting at the soft tendon of Patrick’s neck.
“Fuck,” Patrick breathed against his temple. Andy wrapped his arm around Patrick’s waist and pulled him closer. Patrick swung one leg over Andy’s hips, straddling his lap. Andy traced his tongue over the pale freckles along Patrick’s shoulder. It was almost exactly like in his fantasies, except Patrick’s skin was slightly salty and Patrick’s breath was hot on his neck and Patrick’s nails were scratching along his back and okay. This was a trillion times better than anything Andy’s head had ever managed to come up with. He sucked hard enough to bruise and Patrick whimpered and shifted against him. The friction caught Andy by surprise and he bucked up with a gasp.
Patrick laughed, his pupils blown, his hair already sticking to his temple a little with sweat. “Two months, huh?” he asked with a sly grin, grinding his hips down. Patrick popped the button of Andy’s jeans open and slipped his fingers along the sensitive skin there. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“God, you have no idea,” Andy whispered against Patrick’s mouth, pulling him down to the bed and winding his calf around Patrick’s. Patrick didn’t break the kiss as he reached into Andy’s jeans and palmed over his cock. Andy bit down on Patrick’s lower lip in surprise and Patrick groaned, licking lightly at the spot.
“Fucking pants,” Patrick nosed against Andy’s throat before rising to his knees and tugging off Andy’s jeans. His boxers came with, the whole mess tossed to the side with Patrick’s shirt. Andy’s cock lay heavy against his belly and Patrick licked his lips again, absently. Andy knew if Patrick made any move at all to suck him off, it would be all over. He’d replayed that so many times in his head over the last few years, it was basically sense memory at this point-Patrick’s mouth plus Andy’s cock equaled instant orgasm.
Before Patrick could get any stupid ideas, Andy sat up again and tugged open Patrick’s jeans. His mouth was even with Patrick’s chest and he flicked his tongue over Patrick’s nipple. Patrick hummed softly, his fingers tangling in Andy’s hair as he kissed down his chest. Andy couldn’t help but smile against his skin as he felt Patrick try to suck in his stomach a fraction. He pulled Patrick’s jeans past his hips. “Andy, I-“, but whatever Patrick had been started to say died in his throat as Andy wrapped a fist around Patrick’s cock and tugged lightly. He was already leaking, skin hot and slick under Andy’s fingers, and Andy didn’t even try to stop himself from leaning in and sliding the plane of his tongue over the head slowly, noting Patrick’s shudder as his tongue piercing hit sensitive nerves. “Oh, God, don’t,” Patrick’s voice was tight and frantic, tugging on his hair until Andy looked up, running Patrick’s cock over his lower lip.
Patrick’s eyes were huge. “Seriously, you can’t just. Fuck, Andy,” he pushed Andy back, kicking his jeans to the foot of the bed and laying back down to kiss him again. Andy hadn’t been kissed this much in… ever, probably, and he was sure his lips would be chapped and sore in the morning. He closed his eyes as Patrick’s tongue slid against his jaw and thought that it was a good thing most of tomorrow’s interviews were for radio, what with the beard burn they were both sure to be sporting in the morning.
Their kissing lost all focus when Patrick rolled on top of him and pressed down, their cocks sliding against each other. Andy’s brain short-circuited and he wondered why in the hell he hadn’t done this before, with some willing boy in the last year, but then Patrick’s mouth was open and panting at his throat, and his strained “oh, fuck, fuck” made Andy’s spine tingle and he thought, Right, this is why.
They had just managed to find a rhythm that made Andy’s eyes roll into the back of his head when Patrick pulled away with a grunt. “Don’t. Fucking. Move,” he said before rolling off the bed and grabbing the plastic drug store bag. He dumped the contents onto the bed and Andy’s stomach tightened.
“Patrick,” he blinked at the pile of assorted condoms and bottles of lube.
“I know,” Patrick shrugged, blushing a little. “I didn’t know what you were used to, so I figured I’d just get an assortment? And don’t call me a fucking boy scout,” he grinned and climbed back into bed, settling on his back next to Andy. “I’m pretty sure they frown on this sort of thing.”
Andy was pretty sure he was going to throw up. Patrick didn’t know what he was used to? This was going to fuck up everything, if he did this. There was no going back, giving Patrick a second first time if he fucked this up. “Patrick, this is…”
“Come on, Hurley,” Patrick said low in his ear, pressing a bottle of lube in his palm. “It’s not going to fuck anything up.” Andy looked at him sharply. “I’ve known you forever, dude,” Patrick smiled at him. “You think louder than any guy I know. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t been practicing. I know what I’m in for.”
That was almost too much information. It was certainly enough information to make Andy’s cock throb with want at the mental image. Andy pressed his face into Patrick’s shoulder. “Fuck, Patrick, I just. This is kind of a big deal, you know?”
“Hey,” he nudged Andy with his foot. “I know. I do. I want it to be you, okay?”
Andy squeezed his eyes shut and wished he were a better person, that he could stop this. Instead, he kissed Patrick’s shoulder and slid to his knees. “Yeah, okay.”
The lube was cold on his fingers and Patrick hissed as Andy pressed his middle finger to his entrance. The angle was odd and reached up to grab a pillow, sliding it uncer Patrick’s ass. “Better?” he asked and Patrick nodded, eyes fixed on the ceiling, hands flat on the mattress.
When he pressed inside, Patrick’s breath caught hard. The pressure was hot and hard around Andy’s hand and he felt every inch as Patrick slowly relaxed around him. The second finger was harder, and Andy had to remind him to “breathe, Patrick, Christ,” even though he was barely breathing himself.
“I’m. It’s fine,” Patrick gritted out and Andy’s stomach twisted. What if he was doing this all wrong? Patrick relaxed in increments until Andy could slide his fingers in all the way, taking care not to force anything. He gave a few experimental thrusts and Patrick’s next breath was stuttered and shaky.
“Here, c’mon,” Patrick panted, hands scrabbling over the sheets to grab a condom and press it into Andy’s palm. His gaze shifted from the condom in his hand to where his fingers were slipping out of Patrick, slick and hot. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath through his nose. His fingers were shaking too hard to open the wrapper, and he couldn’t look up, couldn’t bear to see Patrick watching him, waiting for him to make this right, make this perfect. He felt the nudge of Patrick’s thigh against his hip. “Andy?” Patrick said, so quietly and Andy pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, the plastic wrapper digging angrily into his palm.
“Fuck,” he said brokenly.
“Andy--,” Patrick started, but Andy shook his head violently, eyes squeezed shut.
“I can’t fucking do this,” he whispered, his throat hot and tight.
Everything stilled around him as Patrick exhaled one shaky breath. When he spoke, his voice was tight and even. “Why?” Andy wondered how much tension it was taking, how much control to make it sound that way. When Andy hesitated, he added, “I was about four seconds away from begging, dude. You totally owe me at least an explanation.”
Andy sat back on his heels and leaned his head back, trying to not look at Patrick laid out in front of him, flushed and naked and trusting. “You deserve a hell of a lot better than me, Patrick. This should mean something, and I think-“
“Fuck that,” Patrick growled, pushing himself up to a sitting position and shaking Andy’s hip until he looked down. His mouth was still swollen, ginger hair brushing bare shoulders, and there was a mark on his throat that made Andy remember the rush of his pulse under his tongue. “I asked you, Andy. If you were-“
“I know, I’m an asshole, but if you really want to do this-“
“--going to be a dick about it-“
“-you should probably ask someone who’s actually done this before.”
“-you could have just said no. Wait, what?”
Andy could feel himself flush to his toes. He thought at least his erection should start to ebb away, what with the mortification, but Patrick was still so fucking close, so fucking naked that Andy’s personal sense of self-preservation was totally overridden by his libido. When Patrick’s thumb brushed his hip gently, he shuddered.
“Andy,” Patrick sighed. “God, why didn’t you… If this isn’t what you’re in to-“
Andy couldn’t stop his small, surprised laugh. “That’s not it, Trick.”
Patrick rolled his eyes, a tiny grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well, fuck. I mean, it’s been a year, dude. What the hell were you waiting for?”
Andy’s mouth went bone dry. He scrambled for an answer, something flippant and easy, but all he could focus on was Patrick’s hand on his hip, Patrick’s cock, inches from his own. This is what he was waiting for, and now it was all slipping away. By the time he looked into Patrick’s eyes, he could see the realization dawning. He had to get up, get away before Patrick could drag the whole fucking thing out of him. He’d apologize tomorrow. He wiped his slick hand hastily on the bedspread and slipped one leg out from under him, edging off the bed.
But Patrick was faster, winding his arm tight around Andy’s waist and pulling him forward. “No,” Patrick said, firmly but a little panicked, and kissed him hard.
Andy didn’t even try to pull away, just leaned in and sighed. Patrick shifted him closer and Andy was thrown completely off balance, his whole weight pushing them both back down to the bed. Patrick’s arm never left his waist and they both moaned as their bodies lined up, Patrick arching as their cocks brushed together again.
Fuck, Andy thought, because Patrick clearly didn’t quite get it. Whatever his realization had been, it had clearly not been accompanied by the neon sign that read ‘Andy Is In Love With You. This Is A Bad Idea.’ that flashed so clearly across Andy’s brain. Patrick’s fingers tangled in his hair and his tongue teased against Andy’s piercing and god, life was so fucking unfair. “Trick,” he managed finally, pulling away with every fucking ounce of effort he could muster.
“Andy, yeah,” Patrick breathed against his neck before sucking hard, his hips rolling a little underneath them. Andy’s arms shook with the effort of holding him up, away from Patrick’s body.
“Fuck, Patrick, stop,” he hissed. Patrick did, falling back to the pillow with wide, green eyes, and Andy felt like crying. “I don’t-“
“I’m a little bit of an idiot,” Patrick said conversationally, still panting a bit. Andy was thrown off enough that he lost his train of thought entirely. “Cause, you know. When you like somebody, and you think maybe they like you but you aren’t sure, you don’t want to, you know. Put yourself out there? So you make up this stupid-okay, so it’s not exactly a lie, about how there’s this guy you like? And you’re not sure if they like you back? And it’s just because it’s so much easier than saying ‘so, I’ve kind of been crushing on you for two months now, ever since I found out you like guys’, cause maybe that’s lame? A little? I mean, how the fuck do you say ‘hey, yeah, I know we’ve been friends forever and all, but I’d really like to have a lot of sex with you now’?”
Patrick ran out of steam when he realized that Andy hadn’t moved an inch through his whole speech. He bit his lip, worrying it a little between his teeth, and Andy felt a burst of heat in his chest, a wave of giddy, stupid happiness. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say that for four years, Trick,” he answered finally.
“That’s. A really long time,” Patrick breathed.
“Yeah,” Andy nodded and Patrick pushed Andy’s hair behind his ear and tucked his hand behind Andy’s neck.
“C’mere,” Patrick pulled and Andy followed, letting Patrick gently kiss his cheek, his jaw, his mouth. “Should have told me,” he said against Andy’s lips and Andy just nodded and slid his hands down Patrick’s sides, laughing lightly as Patrick squirmed under him. “I’m ticklish, fucker,” he inhaled, and Andy palmed his hip.
“I know,” he grinned and Patrick growled playfully leaned in to nip at his neck, then at his earlobe, pausing when Andy whimpered.
“Like that, huh?” Patrick nosed against his neck before licking at the shell of Andy’s ear.
Hot sparks shot straight down Andy’s spine to his dick and he hitched his hips against Patrick’s thigh. “Yeah, oh, fuck,” he stuttered as Patrick’s licking turned to sucking and Patrick ground up into him again, his cock pressed hot and hard into Andy’s belly. They rolled against each other for another minute before Patrick pulled back with a loud groan.
“I know this is all… fraught with emotion now, or whatever,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, “but seriously? I still really, really want you to fuck me.”
Andy blinked down at him, his brain still trying to recover from the ear thing. Patrick grinned slowly at him. “Please?” he added and Andy just shook his head, grinning back.
“Manipulating, much?” he said, but Patrick was already pressing the bottle of lube back into his hand, shifting up on the bed so Andy could settle back between his thighs. This time it was easy, Patrick’s body opening for his fingers with a few stuttered sighs. Andy’s hand drifted up over Patrick’s stomach and Patrick’s hand grabbed his and held on tightly as Andy finger fucked him as deeply as he could go.
“Oh, oh, s-shit,” Patrick bucked when Andy’s middle finger stroked at just the right angle and Andy made sure to his that spot a few more times before sliding his fingers out slowly, gently.
Patrick didn’t even bother Andy with the condom wrapper this time, just ripping one open with his teeth and handing the condom over with an impatient “Here.”
“You’re an incurable romantic, Patrick,” Andy noted wryly as he rolled it on and Patrick’s huff came out more like a chuckle.
“Just. Don’t punk out on me again,” he replied and Andy couldn’t help himself, slicking up his cock and wrapping his other hand around Patrick’s. Patrick cursed and slammed his hand into the mattress.
Andy’s stomach was all butterflies again. Patrick was sweat-slick and flushed, watching him through half-lidded eyes, and Andy still wanted this to be perfect. More perfect. He rested his whole weight on one arm and used the other to guide his cock forward, pausing when Patrick’s hands came up to grip his shoulders. “Stop thinking, Andy,” Patrick murmured, and Andy pressed forward as Patrick exhaled.
It was slow, agonizingly, amazingly slow and hot and tight, and Andy was pretty sure he would last about half a minute if Patrick didn’t relax a little here. He paused again when Patrick made a small chocked sound, his fingers scrabbling over Andy’s shoulders. “Fuck, Trick, what do you-“
“Don’t fucking stop, I swear to god,” Patrick whispered and shifted forward a fraction, winding one leg around Andy’s waist. All of a sudden, Andy was there, pressed all the way inside and Patrick was keening under him, muttering “fuck, fuck” under his breath as Andy fucked him slowly, his arms shaking from exertion. Patrick leaned up and Andy met him halfway for a kiss that was more whimpering contact than actual kissing.
When Patrick reached down to stroke his own cock, neck arching back at the contact, Andy had to close his eyes to not come right there. “Fuck, Patrick,” he breathed against Patrick’s neck. “Fucking wanted this. So long.”
“Andy,” Patrick panted, and then he was coming, hot streaks hitting Andy’s chest. Andy could feel Patrick’s orgasm everywhere, muscles tightening around him and reverberations from Patrick’s long, loud groan. Andy tried to keep his rhythm-slow and easy and gentle-but Patrick turned his head to bite at Andy’s ear again and his hips jerked enough to make them both curse.
“Sorry, sorry,” Andy shook his head and Patrick spoke low in his ear, his voice lazy and hoarse.
“Come on, wanna feel you come.”
If Andy had made his own perfect porn film, that would have totally been the culminating line, with Patrick well-fucked beneath him, and it was only a few more thrusts before Andy felt a burst of heat along his spine, coming with a full-body shudder and collapsing into Patrick’s chest.
They lay there just trying to breathe for a few long moments before Patrick kissed his neck with a smile. “Not bad for a novice.”
Andy snorted. “Like you would know,” he replied and shifted a fraction, pulling out slowly.
“Point,” Patrick laughed. “But still, pretty fucking awesome, right?”
“Yeah, pretty awesome.” Andy rolled out of bed to toss the condom in the bathroom. His fingers were still tingling as he washed his hands. He caught his reflection in the mirror-flushed and red and peppered with tiny bruises-and shook his head in disbelief.
“Come snuggle with me, you asshole!” Patrick yelled from the other room. “You suck at this devirgining thing!”
Patrick was already tucked up under the covers. “Come on,” he tugged hard on Andy’s hand until Andy was pressed against his side. Patrick turned and tucked his head under Andy’s chin. “So,” he said, and Andy could tell he was smiling. “Four years, huh?”
“Yeah, well,” Andy’s cheeks burned but Patrick just nosed against his shoulder and sighed.
“I’m just saying, that’s a while.”
“Patrick-“
“I mean, I was, what? Seventeen?”
“Shut up,” Andy grinned into Patrick’s hair.
“No, that’s fine. I’m just going to have to get used to the fact that my boyfriend is a dirty old man, that’s all.”
“I hate you,” Andy answered, his fingers stroking over Patrick’s spine.
“I hate you too,” Patrick yawned. “Also, you get to tell Pete we’re dating tomorrow.”
“Wha- why me?”
“You’ve known him longer. Also, if he rips your arm off, you can still play one handed, like the dude in Def Leopard.”
Andy closed his eyes. “Your logic is truly terrifying.”
“You could have had me four years ago, and my logic is flawed?” Patrick poked him in the side.
Andy thought about that statement for exactly half a second before deciding he could never, ever think about all that lost time ever again. “Point taken. Sleep.”
But Patrick was already out like a light, his hand curled around Andy’s wrist. Andy lay in bed and grinned at the ceiling for a while longer.