Fic: Clandestine Cakes (Pete/Joe)
Title: Clandestine Cakes
Author: jacqui_hw
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Pete/Joe
Word Count: 7,000
Summary: Pete owns Clandestine Cakes bakery. To promote the company, he invites a film crew to do a documentary. In other words, Bandom!Ace Of Cakes.
Warnings: Language.
AN: Thanks to ditchwitchbitch. As usual, I could not have done this without you.
Monday
"I needed to change direction," Pete said, as soon as the camera switched on. He could feel Patrick glowering at him from his desk, but the damage was done and Pete was sure this was going to be good for business. "I graduated in Political Science and then spent six years working in local government. One morning I woke up and just couldn't do it anymore." He smiled brightly and shrugged. "I decided to give pastry school a try and it turns out, I'm a natural. So I opened this place."
The director/producer/make-up girl - Ashlee - gave him a thumbs up and the camera-man lowered the camera. "That's awesome. Shane you want to do another?"
Shane - the director/producer/camera-man - shook his head. "Nah that's good for now. Maybe later when everyone's feeling a little more relaxed."
Ashlee nodded and turned back to Pete. "So you just carry on as normal. You'll barely know we're here, promise."
"Great." Pete caught Patrick's eye and winked.
Patrick started typing up his resignation for the fourth time that day.
---
"You want to what?" Patrick had shouted a month earlier when, in the middle of the Monday morning staff meeting, Pete had dropped the bombshell that he'd agreed to a production company making a documentary about the bakery. "That's crazy."
"It's just for a week," Pete had explained calmly, going back to the checklist in front of him. "It'll be good for business."
Patrick had looked like he wanted to argue some more, but Pete had moved swiftly on to the week's orders and that had been that.
---
Joe thought, (but did not say because he'd known Pete longer than anyone and loyalty was important; besides, Pete wouldn't listen anyway,) that this was a particularly stupid week to be bringing in a "documentary" crew. For one thing they were insanely busy and they didn't have time to be giving interviews and letting the camera get in the way. For another, Patrick was getting married in five days and that meant Pete was acting even more crazy than usual.
Right now, for example, he was lying half inside the oven, trying to re-ignite the pilot light with a blow torch. Everyone else had retreated to the other side of the room, but Joe had opted to stay close by with the fire extinguisher, just in case.
"When your eyebrows set on fire, you better not blame me," he said, peering over Pete's shoulder.
"Will you relax," came Pete's muffled reply. "I know what I'm doing."
"You remember when you were twelve and you stuck your sister's stuffed dog in the fire...?"
"I do," Pete interrupted, wriggling further into the oven, "but I don't know how you do, since I hadn't even met you then."
"I'm just pointing out that you ended up without eyebrows then too. You are less than successful with fire."
There was a hiss and a tiny whooshing noise and Pete let out a triumphant yell, scrambling backwards. "Take that maintenance guys, I am an oven fixing God." He grinned smugly at Joe. "What was that about me being unsuccessful with fire?"
Joe pushed the fire extinguisher back on it's stand and shrugged. "Get the hell out of my kitchen."
"It's my kitchen," Pete argued. "I can help."
For a moment Joe thought he'd gone deaf, but the look on Pete's face said otherwise. "You want to bake cakes?"
"I have diplomas. I'm the best baker in the country."
That might very well be true, Joe conceded, but Pete never baked anything. It was boring and time-consuming and very rarely involved the use of brightly colored fondant or power tools. And of course, the kitchen was on the opposite side of the building to Patrick's desk.
"Pete," Joe began hesitantly, "if this is about Patrick.." He took a deep breath and braced himself. "Well, you can talk to me if you need me."
Pete smiled again, just as bright but not quite reaching his eyes. "I'm fine. I just want to do this for a while, okay?"
Joe nodded and handed him a bag of flour. "If you remember how."
---
"Good morning, Clandestine Cakes," Patrick answered the phone and tried to ignore the camera that suddenly appeared from behind the computer. "Yes sir, we do. Yes..." His eyes drifted to Shane the camera guy, as he walked around the desk and crouched down beside him. "Would you like to arrange an appointment to come and talk through your options?" He checked the calendar on the computer and booked in the customer. "Thank you sir. We'll see you then." He disconnected the call and looked up to find Ryan looming over him. "Yes?"
"There seems to be a mistake with the orders," Ryan drawled, his voice expressing nothing but a general sense of annoyance. Patrick didn't take it personally. He knew for a fact Ryan talked like that even when he was at his most excited.
"What's the problem?"
Ryan dropped two contracts on the desk. "Brendon is doing the Asher birthday and I'm doing the Beckett baby shower."
Patrick picked up the contracts and flicked through them. "And?"
Ryan sighed, a heavy, put upon sigh, of someone who was surrounded by idiots. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
Patrick shook his head. "Nope. The Asher cake has a more intricate design that needs to be hand painted. With Gerard out sick, Brendon's the only one that's going to get it done in time."
"It's a goth cake," Ryan stated flatly. "You think Brendon can handle that?"
"I'm not asking him to mutilate a puppy, Ryan. Brendon can make a coffin and a couple of vampires, just like you can make a..." he glanced back at the contract. "Squirrel? Really?"
"Well of course I can," Ryan snapped, snatching back the contracts. "It just seemed odd. And Pete's been..." He looked over his shoulder to where Pete was sitting in Spencer's lap, helping to make a tiny little cat to go on the Smith's anniversary cake.
Patrick sighed. "I know."
"It's not your fault," Ryan said, and this time Patrick could tell he'd moved from annoyed to sympathetic. "He'll get over it."
"Yeah," Patrick murmured as Ryan walked away. It was only then that he remembered Shane, and the camera, sitting right next to him.
---
Pete had met Patrick at college, the second time around. Patrick was not a baker, but that hadn't deterred Pete. From the moment they'd met, Pete had wanted nothing more than to have Patrick with him, no matter what. So when Pete had decided to clear out his trust fund and open Clandestine Cakes, he'd hired Patrick to put his MBA to good use and manage the business. That way he didn't have to worry about money or figures or Patrick moving to another city to work.
Of course, it wasn't supposed to end up like this. Patrick was supposed to fall as hard for Pete, as Pete had for Patrick. They were supposed to get married and adopt six beautiful children who would one day take over the family business. They were supposed to buy a house and a dog and grow old together.
Patrick definitely wasn't supposed to fall in love with a beautiful, smart, funny woman Pete couldn't even hate because she was so disgustingly perfect for him. They certainly weren't supposed to get married. And Pete absolutely wasn't supposed to be making their wedding cake.
But life, it seemed hadn't gotten the memo on that one. So here he was, five days before his best friend's wedding, trying to design the most amazing wedding cake there'd ever been, and prove to himself that Patrick getting married was not in fact, the end of the world.
---
"I need help," Pete told Joe, appearing, as if from nowhere, beside him. "Are you done?"
Joe finished pouring the cake batter into the pan and pushed it into the oven. "Yeah. What do you need help with?"
Pete caught hold of his wrist and dragged him into his office, closing the door behind him for, possibly the first time ever. "Patrick's wedding cake."
Joe perched on the stool next to Pete's desk and nodded. "Okay. Let me see the sketches."
"Yeah, that's the thing," Pete said, collapsing down into his chair. "There are no sketches. There's nothing."
"What do you mean there's nothing? The wedding is on Saturday. We're half way through Monday."
"That's why I need help," Pete explained, as he pulled his sketch pad closer. "Every time I sit down to do it, my mind goes blank."
Joe rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head to clear it. "I don't do design Pete. I just bake cakes. You want Ryan."
"Ryan is already doing three people's work this week. Please? You've known Patrick longer than I have. You can help me."
"I met him twenty minutes before you," Joe argued. "You know him best. You know what he likes."
"Joe please. Please. I'll pay you overtime. I'll give you extra holidays. Anything. Just, help me."
Pete looked desperate and tired and sad. Joe cursed himself, even as he agreed. He grabbed Pete's sketchbook and began flipping through it.
"You weren't kidding. You really don’t have anything."
"I told you," Pete sighed, leaning his forehead down onto his desk.
Joe set the sketchbook back down in front of him, shaking his head. "You know Patrick better than anyone. You have to have some idea."
"Not anyone."
He rolled his eyes, shoving a pencil into Pete’s open palm. "Shut up, man. You do. Tell me what Patrick likes?"
"He likes Lisa."
Joe looked strangely undeterred. "Try again."
Pete ran a hand over his face, trying to think. "He likes music, and instruments and stuff." He looked up to see Joe nodding, writing the words down on a scrap of paper. "And shoes. He loves his shoes. Almost as much as he likes his hats. You should see his drum kit in his house, it totally looks like it’s a hat rack half the time because-Oh my god, Joe, you’re a genius."
Joe nodded and nudged the sketchbook closer. "Took you long enough to realize that."
Tuesday
Patrick opened the bakery at six am every morning. Ryan would usually roll in ten minutes later, wearing sunglasses and carrying two cups of coffee, one for each of them. Pete would get there at seven and everyone else would start to arrive at eight.
This morning though, Ashlee and Shane were waiting when Patrick showed up. Ashlee smiled brightly - a little too brightly for that early in the morning, Patrick thought - and waved.
"Good morning!"
Patrick grunted, unlocked the door and silenced the alarm. Ashlee and Shane slipped in behind him and started to set up.
"I wanted to ask you something," Ashlee said, as soon as he sat down and turned on the computer.
"Yeah?" He kept his eyes on the screen and logged onto his email.
"Off the record," she continued and perched on the edge of his desk. "What's the deal with you and Pete?"
Luckily for both of them, Tuesday was a delivery day and that meant two things happened to distract Ashlee from her questioning.
The first was that, when Ryan showed up seconds later, he wasn't alone. Spencer shuffled in behind him, wearing Ryan's sunglasses and carrying two cups of coffee of his own. Ryan set Patrick's coffee down on his desk with a quiet, "Hey," and continued walking slowly towards his station. Spencer hovered near the door and stifled a yawn.
The second thing was the delivery van which pulled up right on schedule at 6.15.
Shane started filming, ignoring the glares that Ryan, Spencer and Patrick all shot him. Ashlee watched them all, looking mostly amused. She seemed particularly curious about Spencer who was still loitering, sipping on his coffee and making no attempt to start his actual work.
The door opened a minute after that and an attractive, if slightly scruffy-looking man, stepped inside, holding a clip board. "Morning Patrick."
"Hey Jon."
"Hey Jon," Spencer piped up, hurrying forward, holding out one of the cups of coffee. "Brendon's not here yet. I don't know why he always asks me to pick up coffee for him. You want it?"
Patrick rolled his eyes and took the clip board from Jon. "I'm going to check this."
"Sure, sure," Jon said, smiling at Patrick. He took the coffee from Spencer hesitantly and started to follow Patrick out. "Thanks, uh... Sorry, I forgot your name."
Spencer blushed but mostly managed to hide a wince. "Spencer."
"That's right. Thanks Spencer," Jon said again and disappeared after Patrick.
Spencer stared at the closed door for a moment; long enough for Ryan to have walked across the building and wrapped an arm around him.
Ashlee and Shane shared a look, and went to film outside.
---
"Knock, knock."
Pete looked up to find Shane hovering in the doorway to his office and offered him a smile "Hi. Is there a problem?"
"You have time for another interview? Just to talk me through what you're doing maybe? I've exhausted Brendon, as much as it's possible to exhaust Brendon, and Ryan won't talk me." Shane stepped into the office and lowered his voice. "He scares me a little."
Pete threw his head back and laughed, then waved Shane inside. "Ryan can be a little intense. What do you need?"
Shane lifted the camera and sat down next to Pete. "Just tell me what you're doing this week."
"Um, okay," Pete said, shuffling some papers around on his desk. "Well, you may have heard that Patrick is getting married on Saturday and I'm making two wedding cakes for him. One is a traditional tiered cake, which Lisa requested and one is something special for Patrick."
"What kind of something?" Shane prompted when Pete ran out of words.
"It's a surprise."
"I won't tell."
"No seriously," Pete protested and laughed.
"Okay," Shane said, nodding slowly. "So what normally happens when you do this? Someone comes in with an idea and you...?"
Pete explained the process and then again with the camera rolling.
"I don't suppose you're going to tell me the story with you and Patrick," Shane said once they'd finished and the camera was off again.
"There's nothing to tell," Pete muttered. Shane grinned.
"That's what I thought. What's the story with Spencer and the delivery guy then?"
Pete laughed and relaxed. "It started about a year ago..."
---
Baking the actual cake was first on Pete's "to do" list.
"Red Velvet," Pete announced as soon as Joe tossed him an apron. "That's his favorite."
Joe nodded and started to take out the ingredients. "What sizes do you need?"
Pete pulled out a list of dimensions and placed it down on the counter in front of Joe. "Do your magic."
In return, Joe pushed bags of sugar and flour into his arms. "Start measuring."
They worked quietly for a while. Joe took baking far more seriously than people supposed and didn't tolerate a lot of messing around. Pete was subdued, which was unusual but not unexpected. Occasionally he'd hum a couple of lines of a song, but never enough for Joe to make out what it was.
Once the cakes were in the oven, Pete disappeared into his office and Joe started to clear away the ingredients and clean the work surfaces. He checked the cakes and the timer and went to find Pete.
"What's so great about Patrick, anyway?"
Joe wasn't exactly sure why those were the first words out of his mouth, when he found Pete bent over his desk, staring at the plans in front of him as though the world was ending, but something inside him had been longing to ask for the last five years and finally that something had snapped.
"He makes me laugh," Pete said simply, as though it was so obvious.
"So do I," Joe pointed out, resting his hip and his head against the door-frame.
"He's always there for everyone," Pete added, eyes fixed once again on the plans. "He came to work for me, what kind of a friend does that?"
Joe raised his hand hesitantly. "Uh, hi there. You remember me? Joe?"
"It's different with Patrick." Pete protested and Joe thought he should probably let it go. Pete had fallen in love. It wasn't his fault he'd fallen in love with the wrong guy.
"I still don't get it."
"Well that's because you've never been in love," Pete said.
Luckily for both of them, the timer went off right then.
Wednesday
Ashlee and Shane were waiting again when Patrick showed up the next morning.
"You don't mind if we do your interview now, do you?" Ashlee asked almost as soon as they were inside, and gave Patrick no time to respond before she pushed him down into his chair and Shane raised the camera to his shoulder to film.
"Introduce yourself," Ashlee prompted when Patrick continued to stare blankly at the camera.
"I'm Patrick, I'm twenty-five and I'm the manager of Clandestine Cakes."
Ashlee nodded encouragingly. "What does that entail?"
Patrick swiveled in his chair to look at the orders spread out over his desk. "Well people contact us about buying a cake. We go through their options, invite them in for a meeting to decide on designs and flavours and timescales. It's quite a complicated process to get everything perfect. Once that's all done, the orders have to be divided up between the team. Most people have a speciality area, something they're really good at. Like, Spencer makes animals really well, Gerard can do lots of intricate paint work."
Behind Ashlee the front door opened to admit Ryan, alone this morning, but with the usual two cups of coffee. He shot a baleful look at Shane as he placed Patrick's cup down in front of him, and then, much to Patrick's surprise, his lips quirked up in a supportive smile when he looked at Patrick.
Patrick cleared his throat and watched Ryan walk away. "Ryan's third in the chain of command. He's the most experienced and when Pete's too busy, like he is this week, Ryan's pretty much in charge." Patrick stopped and smiled. "Well, he does what I tell him."
"But you're not a baker or cake decorator," Ashlee asked, dragging Patrick back on track.
"No," Patrick agreed. "But managing the business doesn't mean I have to be able to bake the cakes myself. I know more about this company than anyone. Except maybe Pete."
"Couldn't you have found a high paying job somewhere else?"
Patrick thought about it for a moment and frowned.
"Maybe. But they wouldn't need me like Pete needs me."
Ashlee opened her mouth, no doubt ready to pounce on that statement, but the phone rang at that moment, bringing the interview to an end.
---
Pete was still shut up in his office when Patrick started to lock up. They were the only people left in the building, apart from Joe, who Patrick could hear clearing up in the kitchen. He switched off his computer and turned on the answer-phone. With a deep breath, he walked across to the office and knocked.
"Yeah?" Pete called out. He didn't look up when Patrick swung the door open and leaned in the doorway.
"Hey."
"Hey," Pete replied, but remained focused on whatever he was drawing. "Everything okay?"
Patrick fixed his eyes on the top of Pete's head and waited. Nothing happened. Patrick sighed. "You have to talk to me some time you know."
The, "Huh?" was absent and vague, but Patrick knew Pete wasn't as relaxed as he wanted to appear.
"Pete, please, just talk to me."
Finally, finally, Pete looked up, smiling and looking, to all intents and purposes, completely happy. Patrick knew better. "What do you want to talk about?"
Patrick stepped into the office and closed the door. "You've been avoiding me."
"I'm making your wedding cake," Pete responded. "You want it to be a surprise, don't you?"
"What I want," Patrick argued, "is for you to stop pretending everything is fine."
Pete deflated. He sighed and shook his head, giving a harsh little laugh as he curled in on himself. "No, you don't. You'd hate that. If I said everything I actually wanted to say, I'd lose my best friend. So I'm just going to stay quiet, stay out of your way and make this damn cake. And on Saturday I'll stand up there with you and be happy for you. I am happy for you."
"Pete," Patrick began, but stopped when Pete held up his hands.
"I don't want to hear it. I know, okay? You didn't do anything wrong. You just fell in love."
"So did you," Patrick whispered after a moment and then stood. "I should go."
"Yeah. I should get back to this."
"I can't wait to see it," Patrick said with a small smile. "See you tomorrow."
Pete watched him go, tossing his pencil down angrily when he heard the front door slam.
"Joe!"
It took five seconds for Joe to appear in the doorway.
"You bellowed?"
"Let's make this stupid cake and then get drunk."
Joe smiled back and rubbed his hands together. "I brought beer."
---
Pete spread the templates over the cakes and stared to cut out the basic shapes.
Joe cracked open a bottle of beer.
"Aren't you helping?" Pete asked, glancing up at Joe for a second. "I thought you were helping."
"I'm providing moral support," Joe replied, grinning. "Besides, you're better at that stuff than me.
"People always say that when they don't want to make any effort." Pete stood back and appraised the toms he'd sculpted, comparing it to the sketches. "Go and get the gum paste. You can start cutting out the albums. Even you can’t mess up a square."
Joe flipped him off, but slid off his stool and retrieved the gummy paste. "You want me to paint them too?"
Pete laughed. "Fuck no. They actually have to look like album covers not modern art. Brendon's going to do them tomorrow." He finished the shaping on the first drums and stood back again. "How they look?"
"It looks like cake, Pete," Joe said, not unkindly. Out of everyone in the building, except maybe Patrick, Joe was the person who could never see the finished article in his head. Not until it was actually finished. That was possibly why he spent all his time baking and not crafting. He smiled and shrugged.
Pete laughed and reached for the open beer. "It'll look better once the fondant is on it."
"I believe you," Joe said and threw a block of fondant at him. "Get to it."
--
Four hours (and far more fondant than should have been needed) later, the basic structure of the drum-kit was complete and covered. Pete marked out where everything else had to go on the base, the exact position of each of the albums and hats, and once he was satisfied that it might in fact be possible to finish before Saturday, he stood back and stared at it.
Joe didn't need to ask to know what he was thinking about.
"You remember that time in college when campus security caught me trying to sneak beer in?"
Pete's voice was quiet and strangely unexpected in the sudden stillness that had overcome the bakery. Joe had collapsed into Spencer's swivel-chair and was turning in slow circles, trying not to be too obvious about the way he was watching Pete. "Which time?"
"My birthday," Pete said with a half smile, finally turning away from the cake. He raised his third beer of the night to his lips and drained the last of it.
Joe remembered perfectly, though "sneak" probably wasn't the word he would have used.
Pete had been nicely drunk anyway, thanks to the surprise party Patrick had thrown for him. Joe had practically carried him home across campus at 2am, with Pete clutching tightly to a six-pack he'd lifted on his way out the door. He'd giggled non-stop, as they'd stumbled along, right into the path of of the guards. Joe had begged Pete to let him handle it, ignoring his stage-whispers and exaggerated shushing, to explain that Pete had just turned 25 and yes they knew it was technically against the rules, but it's not everyday you reach your quarter-century. Surprisingly, they'd gotten away with it and Joe had suffered all the way up to the fifth floor, with Pete thanking him for saving him, and his precious beer.
It took a while, and more patience than Joe thought he was capable of, but eventually they were inside Pete's room.
"Hey," Pete exclaimed, upon seeing his bed and promptly collapsed on top of it. Joe knelt down to take care of Pete's shoes. "Are you staying, Joe?" Pete mumbled into the pillow. Joe was surprised he hadn't immediately passed out.
"I guess someone has to make sure you don't die choking on your own vomit in the middle of the night."
Pete murmured contentedly and squirmed a little on the bed. Joe watched him fondly for a long moment before that clenching feeling started in his chest again, and he busied himself by covering Pete with a blanket and grabbing a new one out of the closet to curl up with in the chair.
"I love you, Joe."
"Just not as much as Patrick," Joe finished off, the way he had ever since they'd met Patrick a year earlier. It was a joke that was starting to hurt a little more every time, but now they'd been doing it too long for Joe to stop without comment.
"I love you too," he whispered back, but Pete was already asleep.
"What about it?" Joe asked now, wondering where Pete was headed with that train of thought.
"I don't know. Everything seemed simpler then I guess. I knew what was going on."
Joe laughed. He threw his head back and laugh until his stomach ached and he thought he might throw up if he laughed anymore. Pete watched him through it all, eyebrows raised, waiting.
"You didn't know anything. You don't know now and you didn't know then. You've been hiding for six years Pete."
"I have not been hiding," Pete argued, suddenly far more angry than he'd felt. "I've been in love with Patrick since I met him."
Joe snorted and got to his feet. "You've been in love with the idea of him. You always knew this day would come. It was safe to love him because you knew he'd never love you back. Anything else you say is just deluding yourself."
He took a couple of uneven steps forward towards the work table and started to clean up.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Pete growled.
Joe rolled his eyes. "Maybe not. But I'll bet you all the money I have that you don't either."
Pete's silence was all the answer either of them needed.
Thursday
It was almost lunchtime when Ashlee's head appeared around the kitchen door, smile still firmly in place.
"Joe, Joe, Joe, how's my favorite baker?"
Joe grinned. He couldn't help it. Ashlee's enthusiasm was contagious. "He's wondering what you want."
Magically, she was beside him in a second, pushing her hair back and peering into the cake batter he was mixing together. "I like your hair-net."
"What do you want?"
"Interview?" she said sweetly. Joe sighed but nodded and then smiled again when she bounced a little excited. "You really are my favorite you know. Except for maybe, Brendon."
"Gee thanks," Joe responded, with a roll of his eyes. "Can I finish up here first?"
"Sure thing. I'll just grab Shane."
Ten minutes later, Joe was shifting nervously in front of the camera. "Okay, how do we do this?"
"I just ask a couple of questions. Nothing too painful I promise," Ashlee explained, tapping Shane's shoulder absently. "How long have you been working for Pete?"
"I've been working here since we opened. There were just the three of us at the start. Well, there was Tom too but Pete doesn't like talking about that." Ashlee's eyebrows inched upwards and she made a note on her clipboard. Joe winced and shifted again. He started rubbing one of his arms. "Anyway, it's been me, Pete and Patrick ever since."
Ashlee nodded. "And now Patrick's getting married. How do you think that will affect the dynamics of the company?"
Joe was starting to think that Ashlee's sweet and innocent personality was a front to hide the devious and determined mind she obviously possessed.
"I don't think it will. They've been best friends forever. Nothing's going to change."
This time Ashlee didn't say anything. She just stared at him and waited.
"Aren't you supposed to be asking questions about baking?"
"We've covered all of that. Human interest stories, that's what people want to see."
"We're not that interesting," Joe protested, looking around nervously for a way to escape.
"Oh I wouldn't say that," Ashlee argued. "So tell me, why did you come to work for Pete?"
---
Joe was still cleaning up when Patrick left for the night and Pete was finally able to put the finishing touches on his cake.
Ryan raised his head and gave it a faint appreciative glance when Pete pulled it out into the open. He glanced towards Brendon, who had agreed to stay late to help paint the album covers. Brendon was intent on his work and Ryan looked away again quickly. Pete would surely have teased him if he hadn't been so pre-occupied.
"Joe!" he shouted, eager to get started.
"Five minutes," Joe yelled back and Pete grimaced.
"Ry? Any chance of...?"
"Peter," Ryan interrupted, head still bent over sheet of fondant and butterfly stencil he was cutting around. "Do you see the three cakes sitting here? I know you're not going to ask me to leave these to help you make the base of cake you could have been working on for weeks."
Pete glared at the top of Ryan's head. "Remind me again why I don't fire you?"
Ryan snorted. "Because nothing would get done?"
Pete wanted to protest. He did. But Ryan had a valid point, so he settled for sticking out his tongue. "Joe!" he shouted again and jumped when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.
"I'm right here. Are we doing this?"
---
It was later than either of them realized by the time Joe stood, popping his back and rubbing his eyes. “Let’s call it a night,” Pete said, and for the first time in a few hours, stepped back to look at how far they’d come. The base of the cake was now covered in gum-paste replicas of all of Patrick's favorite albums.
There were finishing touches to be done of course, but they could wait until the following evening. Pete gave a satisfied nod and smiled at Joe.
"Well?"
"It looks good," Joe said through a yawn as he stretched. "You should give Brendon a raise."
Pete laughed and glanced across at Brendon who was asleep at his desk, head pillowed on his arms. "Both Brendon and Ryan will be adequately compensated."
"Damn right they will," Ryan called from across the room, but it was quiet enough that it didn't wake Brendon.
Pete looked back at Patrick's cake and pointed at the stool sitting behind the drum-kit, that Joe had managed to put together. “Maybe we shouldn’t be hiding you away in the kitchen all the time.”
“I like the kitchen,” Joe said easily, and helped Pete carefully lift the cake and slide it into a box they were using to hide it. “I’m the only one with the luxury of avoiding you when I want.”
“Ha ha,” Pete said dryly, and would have sought retribution if it weren’t for the very important cake they were holding. "Hey," he said, grabbing Joe's arm once the cake was secured and Joe made a move away. "Do you want to go get a beer?"
---
It had been far too long, Pete thought when he and Joe collapsed into a booth at the local bar, since he and Joe had done anything together outside of work. It had been far too long in fact, since Pete himself had done anything outside of work. Most nights he stayed late to finish things off; he always felt more creative at night than during the day. Besides, mornings just weren't really his thing. Never had been.
Joe took a long pull of his beer and gave a satisfied sigh. He held up his bottle towards Pete in a toast. "To Patrick."
"To Patrick," Pete echoed, clinking their bottles together. "Only one more day."
"And then what happens?"
Pete shrugged and began to laugh. "I don't know. It's over I guess. I mean, I know there's nothing now. Nothing's actually going to change for me. It's just, the end of an era."
"He's just getting married. He's not leaving."
"Joe..."
"I have been in love before," Joe continued, ignoring Pete and picking up the conversation from two days earlier. "I know exactly what you're going through with Patrick. I know it's not easy loving someone who so obviously loves someone else, but you have to get on with your life."
Pete frowned at Joe. "Who the hell have you been in love with that you wouldn't tell...?"
He didn't even need to finish. Joe's eye-roll said it all. Pete watched Joe drink his beer, his head suddenly buzzing with a million thoughts. He was the biggest idiot alive.
"Joe..."
"I don't want to hear it," Joe sighed. "This sudden realisation that I've been in love with you since I met you. I knew it was always him and never me."
Pete nodded slowly, more for something to do that agreement. He wasn't paying full attention just turning the words over and over in his head. Joe was in love him. For a moment, he wondered how he'd missed the clues on that one. Patrick had always known about Pete's infatuation, but somehow, Pete had failed to notice the same in Joe. He began to replay their every moment together in his head and something occurred to him. Joe had always been there, right from the very beginning, when no one believed in Pete, not even Pete himself. Joe had been the one to convince him he could make it. Joe had been the one he'd stayed up nights with, planning out the business. Joe had been the one he'd called when he'd found the perfect building, when he'd found Ryan and Spencer. Joe had been the one he'd gone to at 3 a.m. after the disaster with Tom. Joe was always first. He always had been first.
"I should go."
Pete snapped back to attention in time to see Joe getting to his feet. "What? Why? Where are you going?"
"Home," Joe said wearily. "I'm tired. I can't do this anymore today."
Pete shot to his feet and grabbed Joe's hand. "Wait."
"Pete, please..."
"Just, let me try something, okay?" Pete leaned in slowly and kissed Joe. It was hesitant and soft and Pete felt a burst of astonishment and excitement and joy, because this was what he'd been waiting for. Nothing else he'd ever done or imagined came close. All that time spent wondering about Patrick when Joe was right there, and so real and amazing and perfect for him.
He pulled back slowly from the kiss. His hands had risen of their own volition to rest on Joe's shoulders, his thumbs stroking the curve of Joe's neck.
"Wow," Pete breathed slowly, heart racing. He opened his eyes. The smile on his face felt too big. "Joe..."
In one swift wrenching movement Joe stepped back away from Pete and with an angry glare in his direction, raced for the door.
Friday
Things were awkward the next day. Pete tried to be as casual as possible but somehow everyone could tell that something had happened. Patrick knew. Even worse, Ashlee knew and that meant she was sticking to Pete like glue.
"What's going on Pete?" Patrick hissed when Ashlee went to break up some sort of argument Ryan was having with Shane.
"What do you mean?"
Patrick gave Pete a look that said "You're kidding," better than words ever could.
"I'm just sitting here."
"It's six thirty. You're never usually here before seven. Not in all the time we've been here." Patrick watched him, clearly suspicious. "Has something happened?"
"No," Pete protested, looking back at the door. "Nothing happened." He checked the clock on the wall again. "What time does Joe usually get here?"
Patrick frowned. "Uh, eight."
Pete bit his lip. "Okay. I'll be in my office then, if you need me. If Joe comes in..."
"I'll send him in."
---
Joe didn't turn up eight. Or nine. At ten, Pete started pacing from Patrick's desk to the door and opening it to check if Joe was outside. He wasn't.
Patrick watched Pete, growing increasingly worried and confused by the whole situation.
"Pete," Patrick stopped him when he made his fourth pass, "What happened with Joe?"
"Nothing," Pete stated firmly. "Have you tried calling?"
Patrick nodded. "There was no answer. I left a message."
Pete grabbed his coat and marched back towards the door. "I'll be back. I just want to make sure he's okay."
"Pete!" Patrick shouted, wishing he knew anything about what was going on. Pete however, had already gone.
---
"Trohman!" Pete shouted, banging on the door to Joe's apartment. "Come on dude. Let me in." He paused and pressed his ear to the door. "Joe!" He started banging again.
"Oh my God," Joe finally shouted, pulling the door open. "Shut the fuck up, man. I live here. People will complain."
"People should be at work," Pete said, pushing past him into the apartment. "Why aren't you at work?"
Joe pushed the door closed, leaned against it and rubbed his hands over his face. "Pete, after last night..."
"I was worried about you."
"I'm sorry, but after last night I just couldn't face it."
Pete stayed silent for a while, watching Joe from across the room. "I know I'm an idiot."
"Correct."
"When I was thinking, the other day about my birthday..."
Joe shook his head and interrupted. "I don't want to be some consolation prize. Patrick is getting married and you're upset. I get that. Forget..."
This time it was Pete who interrupted Joe, the best way he knew how.
"You have to stop doing that," Joe insisted when Pete finally pulled back. "You can't just keep grabbing me and kissing me. I deserve better than being runner-up to..."
Pete clamped his hand over Joe's mouth and started to laugh. "Do you ever shut up? I was trying to tell you, you're not runner-up. Me and Patrick, that was never anything except in my head. It was... nothing. You are real. You..." Pete took his hand away and kissed Joe gently. "You make me happy."
Saturday
"Are you nervous?" Pete asked, as Patrick straightened his tie in the mirror. Patrick caught his eye and nodded. He looked vaguely petrified. "You'll be fine," Pete continued, patting him on the shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner.
"I can't do this," Patrick said, spinning around to face Pete properly. "What was I thinking?
Pete held Patrick by the shoulders and gave him a little shake, letting their foreheads come to rest together. "You were thinking you have this fabulous girl you love and you want to spend the rest of your life with her."
Patrick tried to nod and Pete smiled.
"Deep breath.
---
The ceremony passed without a hitch. Pete watched on with pride as Patrick said his vows and if he felt any tug of disappointment it was momentary and quickly exiled by the wink Joe sent him from the front row.
His speech was short and touching. Patrick beamed at him with such obvious joy, he wondered how he could ever have wanted things to turn out differently. Once he'd made his toast, he signaled to Ryan and Spencer who carried in Patrick's cake.
"Oh my God," Patrick exclaimed as he hugged Pete after inspecting every inch of the cake. "That's just... thank you man. Thank you. Seriously, that's the most amazing cake I've ever seen. "
He inspected the cake again and Pete watched on, happy and smiling as Patrick and Lisa took photos and then cut into the cake, bypassing completely the gorgeous three tier pink and gold concoction Ryan had slaved over for three days. A glance in Ryan's direction told Pete exactly what he thought of that.
---
It was much later when Pete finally managed to catch Joe alone. Patrick and Lisa were dancing, Brendon and Ryan were having what looked like a very serious argument in one corner, while Spencer was mooning over Jon from across the room. Joe was watching it all with some bemusement.
"You having fun Trohman?" Pete asked, pulling up a chair next to Joe at the table. "You're all alone."
"Well," Joe replied taking a sip of champagne. "My date disappeared to do his duties as best man leaving me to find my own amusement."
"And have you?" Pete leaned closer, letting his lips brush lightly against Joe's ear. He could see a smile forming along with the blush on Joe's face.
"Oh, I think so." Joe turned his head and caught Pete's lips quickly with his own. "I'm having the best week ever."
The End
Author: jacqui_hw
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Pete/Joe
Word Count: 7,000
Summary: Pete owns Clandestine Cakes bakery. To promote the company, he invites a film crew to do a documentary. In other words, Bandom!Ace Of Cakes.
Warnings: Language.
AN: Thanks to ditchwitchbitch. As usual, I could not have done this without you.
Monday
"I needed to change direction," Pete said, as soon as the camera switched on. He could feel Patrick glowering at him from his desk, but the damage was done and Pete was sure this was going to be good for business. "I graduated in Political Science and then spent six years working in local government. One morning I woke up and just couldn't do it anymore." He smiled brightly and shrugged. "I decided to give pastry school a try and it turns out, I'm a natural. So I opened this place."
The director/producer/make-up girl - Ashlee - gave him a thumbs up and the camera-man lowered the camera. "That's awesome. Shane you want to do another?"
Shane - the director/producer/camera-man - shook his head. "Nah that's good for now. Maybe later when everyone's feeling a little more relaxed."
Ashlee nodded and turned back to Pete. "So you just carry on as normal. You'll barely know we're here, promise."
"Great." Pete caught Patrick's eye and winked.
Patrick started typing up his resignation for the fourth time that day.
---
"You want to what?" Patrick had shouted a month earlier when, in the middle of the Monday morning staff meeting, Pete had dropped the bombshell that he'd agreed to a production company making a documentary about the bakery. "That's crazy."
"It's just for a week," Pete had explained calmly, going back to the checklist in front of him. "It'll be good for business."
Patrick had looked like he wanted to argue some more, but Pete had moved swiftly on to the week's orders and that had been that.
---
Joe thought, (but did not say because he'd known Pete longer than anyone and loyalty was important; besides, Pete wouldn't listen anyway,) that this was a particularly stupid week to be bringing in a "documentary" crew. For one thing they were insanely busy and they didn't have time to be giving interviews and letting the camera get in the way. For another, Patrick was getting married in five days and that meant Pete was acting even more crazy than usual.
Right now, for example, he was lying half inside the oven, trying to re-ignite the pilot light with a blow torch. Everyone else had retreated to the other side of the room, but Joe had opted to stay close by with the fire extinguisher, just in case.
"When your eyebrows set on fire, you better not blame me," he said, peering over Pete's shoulder.
"Will you relax," came Pete's muffled reply. "I know what I'm doing."
"You remember when you were twelve and you stuck your sister's stuffed dog in the fire...?"
"I do," Pete interrupted, wriggling further into the oven, "but I don't know how you do, since I hadn't even met you then."
"I'm just pointing out that you ended up without eyebrows then too. You are less than successful with fire."
There was a hiss and a tiny whooshing noise and Pete let out a triumphant yell, scrambling backwards. "Take that maintenance guys, I am an oven fixing God." He grinned smugly at Joe. "What was that about me being unsuccessful with fire?"
Joe pushed the fire extinguisher back on it's stand and shrugged. "Get the hell out of my kitchen."
"It's my kitchen," Pete argued. "I can help."
For a moment Joe thought he'd gone deaf, but the look on Pete's face said otherwise. "You want to bake cakes?"
"I have diplomas. I'm the best baker in the country."
That might very well be true, Joe conceded, but Pete never baked anything. It was boring and time-consuming and very rarely involved the use of brightly colored fondant or power tools. And of course, the kitchen was on the opposite side of the building to Patrick's desk.
"Pete," Joe began hesitantly, "if this is about Patrick.." He took a deep breath and braced himself. "Well, you can talk to me if you need me."
Pete smiled again, just as bright but not quite reaching his eyes. "I'm fine. I just want to do this for a while, okay?"
Joe nodded and handed him a bag of flour. "If you remember how."
---
"Good morning, Clandestine Cakes," Patrick answered the phone and tried to ignore the camera that suddenly appeared from behind the computer. "Yes sir, we do. Yes..." His eyes drifted to Shane the camera guy, as he walked around the desk and crouched down beside him. "Would you like to arrange an appointment to come and talk through your options?" He checked the calendar on the computer and booked in the customer. "Thank you sir. We'll see you then." He disconnected the call and looked up to find Ryan looming over him. "Yes?"
"There seems to be a mistake with the orders," Ryan drawled, his voice expressing nothing but a general sense of annoyance. Patrick didn't take it personally. He knew for a fact Ryan talked like that even when he was at his most excited.
"What's the problem?"
Ryan dropped two contracts on the desk. "Brendon is doing the Asher birthday and I'm doing the Beckett baby shower."
Patrick picked up the contracts and flicked through them. "And?"
Ryan sighed, a heavy, put upon sigh, of someone who was surrounded by idiots. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
Patrick shook his head. "Nope. The Asher cake has a more intricate design that needs to be hand painted. With Gerard out sick, Brendon's the only one that's going to get it done in time."
"It's a goth cake," Ryan stated flatly. "You think Brendon can handle that?"
"I'm not asking him to mutilate a puppy, Ryan. Brendon can make a coffin and a couple of vampires, just like you can make a..." he glanced back at the contract. "Squirrel? Really?"
"Well of course I can," Ryan snapped, snatching back the contracts. "It just seemed odd. And Pete's been..." He looked over his shoulder to where Pete was sitting in Spencer's lap, helping to make a tiny little cat to go on the Smith's anniversary cake.
Patrick sighed. "I know."
"It's not your fault," Ryan said, and this time Patrick could tell he'd moved from annoyed to sympathetic. "He'll get over it."
"Yeah," Patrick murmured as Ryan walked away. It was only then that he remembered Shane, and the camera, sitting right next to him.
---
Pete had met Patrick at college, the second time around. Patrick was not a baker, but that hadn't deterred Pete. From the moment they'd met, Pete had wanted nothing more than to have Patrick with him, no matter what. So when Pete had decided to clear out his trust fund and open Clandestine Cakes, he'd hired Patrick to put his MBA to good use and manage the business. That way he didn't have to worry about money or figures or Patrick moving to another city to work.
Of course, it wasn't supposed to end up like this. Patrick was supposed to fall as hard for Pete, as Pete had for Patrick. They were supposed to get married and adopt six beautiful children who would one day take over the family business. They were supposed to buy a house and a dog and grow old together.
Patrick definitely wasn't supposed to fall in love with a beautiful, smart, funny woman Pete couldn't even hate because she was so disgustingly perfect for him. They certainly weren't supposed to get married. And Pete absolutely wasn't supposed to be making their wedding cake.
But life, it seemed hadn't gotten the memo on that one. So here he was, five days before his best friend's wedding, trying to design the most amazing wedding cake there'd ever been, and prove to himself that Patrick getting married was not in fact, the end of the world.
---
"I need help," Pete told Joe, appearing, as if from nowhere, beside him. "Are you done?"
Joe finished pouring the cake batter into the pan and pushed it into the oven. "Yeah. What do you need help with?"
Pete caught hold of his wrist and dragged him into his office, closing the door behind him for, possibly the first time ever. "Patrick's wedding cake."
Joe perched on the stool next to Pete's desk and nodded. "Okay. Let me see the sketches."
"Yeah, that's the thing," Pete said, collapsing down into his chair. "There are no sketches. There's nothing."
"What do you mean there's nothing? The wedding is on Saturday. We're half way through Monday."
"That's why I need help," Pete explained, as he pulled his sketch pad closer. "Every time I sit down to do it, my mind goes blank."
Joe rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head to clear it. "I don't do design Pete. I just bake cakes. You want Ryan."
"Ryan is already doing three people's work this week. Please? You've known Patrick longer than I have. You can help me."
"I met him twenty minutes before you," Joe argued. "You know him best. You know what he likes."
"Joe please. Please. I'll pay you overtime. I'll give you extra holidays. Anything. Just, help me."
Pete looked desperate and tired and sad. Joe cursed himself, even as he agreed. He grabbed Pete's sketchbook and began flipping through it.
"You weren't kidding. You really don’t have anything."
"I told you," Pete sighed, leaning his forehead down onto his desk.
Joe set the sketchbook back down in front of him, shaking his head. "You know Patrick better than anyone. You have to have some idea."
"Not anyone."
He rolled his eyes, shoving a pencil into Pete’s open palm. "Shut up, man. You do. Tell me what Patrick likes?"
"He likes Lisa."
Joe looked strangely undeterred. "Try again."
Pete ran a hand over his face, trying to think. "He likes music, and instruments and stuff." He looked up to see Joe nodding, writing the words down on a scrap of paper. "And shoes. He loves his shoes. Almost as much as he likes his hats. You should see his drum kit in his house, it totally looks like it’s a hat rack half the time because-Oh my god, Joe, you’re a genius."
Joe nodded and nudged the sketchbook closer. "Took you long enough to realize that."
Tuesday
Patrick opened the bakery at six am every morning. Ryan would usually roll in ten minutes later, wearing sunglasses and carrying two cups of coffee, one for each of them. Pete would get there at seven and everyone else would start to arrive at eight.
This morning though, Ashlee and Shane were waiting when Patrick showed up. Ashlee smiled brightly - a little too brightly for that early in the morning, Patrick thought - and waved.
"Good morning!"
Patrick grunted, unlocked the door and silenced the alarm. Ashlee and Shane slipped in behind him and started to set up.
"I wanted to ask you something," Ashlee said, as soon as he sat down and turned on the computer.
"Yeah?" He kept his eyes on the screen and logged onto his email.
"Off the record," she continued and perched on the edge of his desk. "What's the deal with you and Pete?"
Luckily for both of them, Tuesday was a delivery day and that meant two things happened to distract Ashlee from her questioning.
The first was that, when Ryan showed up seconds later, he wasn't alone. Spencer shuffled in behind him, wearing Ryan's sunglasses and carrying two cups of coffee of his own. Ryan set Patrick's coffee down on his desk with a quiet, "Hey," and continued walking slowly towards his station. Spencer hovered near the door and stifled a yawn.
The second thing was the delivery van which pulled up right on schedule at 6.15.
Shane started filming, ignoring the glares that Ryan, Spencer and Patrick all shot him. Ashlee watched them all, looking mostly amused. She seemed particularly curious about Spencer who was still loitering, sipping on his coffee and making no attempt to start his actual work.
The door opened a minute after that and an attractive, if slightly scruffy-looking man, stepped inside, holding a clip board. "Morning Patrick."
"Hey Jon."
"Hey Jon," Spencer piped up, hurrying forward, holding out one of the cups of coffee. "Brendon's not here yet. I don't know why he always asks me to pick up coffee for him. You want it?"
Patrick rolled his eyes and took the clip board from Jon. "I'm going to check this."
"Sure, sure," Jon said, smiling at Patrick. He took the coffee from Spencer hesitantly and started to follow Patrick out. "Thanks, uh... Sorry, I forgot your name."
Spencer blushed but mostly managed to hide a wince. "Spencer."
"That's right. Thanks Spencer," Jon said again and disappeared after Patrick.
Spencer stared at the closed door for a moment; long enough for Ryan to have walked across the building and wrapped an arm around him.
Ashlee and Shane shared a look, and went to film outside.
---
"Knock, knock."
Pete looked up to find Shane hovering in the doorway to his office and offered him a smile "Hi. Is there a problem?"
"You have time for another interview? Just to talk me through what you're doing maybe? I've exhausted Brendon, as much as it's possible to exhaust Brendon, and Ryan won't talk me." Shane stepped into the office and lowered his voice. "He scares me a little."
Pete threw his head back and laughed, then waved Shane inside. "Ryan can be a little intense. What do you need?"
Shane lifted the camera and sat down next to Pete. "Just tell me what you're doing this week."
"Um, okay," Pete said, shuffling some papers around on his desk. "Well, you may have heard that Patrick is getting married on Saturday and I'm making two wedding cakes for him. One is a traditional tiered cake, which Lisa requested and one is something special for Patrick."
"What kind of something?" Shane prompted when Pete ran out of words.
"It's a surprise."
"I won't tell."
"No seriously," Pete protested and laughed.
"Okay," Shane said, nodding slowly. "So what normally happens when you do this? Someone comes in with an idea and you...?"
Pete explained the process and then again with the camera rolling.
"I don't suppose you're going to tell me the story with you and Patrick," Shane said once they'd finished and the camera was off again.
"There's nothing to tell," Pete muttered. Shane grinned.
"That's what I thought. What's the story with Spencer and the delivery guy then?"
Pete laughed and relaxed. "It started about a year ago..."
---
Baking the actual cake was first on Pete's "to do" list.
"Red Velvet," Pete announced as soon as Joe tossed him an apron. "That's his favorite."
Joe nodded and started to take out the ingredients. "What sizes do you need?"
Pete pulled out a list of dimensions and placed it down on the counter in front of Joe. "Do your magic."
In return, Joe pushed bags of sugar and flour into his arms. "Start measuring."
They worked quietly for a while. Joe took baking far more seriously than people supposed and didn't tolerate a lot of messing around. Pete was subdued, which was unusual but not unexpected. Occasionally he'd hum a couple of lines of a song, but never enough for Joe to make out what it was.
Once the cakes were in the oven, Pete disappeared into his office and Joe started to clear away the ingredients and clean the work surfaces. He checked the cakes and the timer and went to find Pete.
"What's so great about Patrick, anyway?"
Joe wasn't exactly sure why those were the first words out of his mouth, when he found Pete bent over his desk, staring at the plans in front of him as though the world was ending, but something inside him had been longing to ask for the last five years and finally that something had snapped.
"He makes me laugh," Pete said simply, as though it was so obvious.
"So do I," Joe pointed out, resting his hip and his head against the door-frame.
"He's always there for everyone," Pete added, eyes fixed once again on the plans. "He came to work for me, what kind of a friend does that?"
Joe raised his hand hesitantly. "Uh, hi there. You remember me? Joe?"
"It's different with Patrick." Pete protested and Joe thought he should probably let it go. Pete had fallen in love. It wasn't his fault he'd fallen in love with the wrong guy.
"I still don't get it."
"Well that's because you've never been in love," Pete said.
Luckily for both of them, the timer went off right then.
Wednesday
Ashlee and Shane were waiting again when Patrick showed up the next morning.
"You don't mind if we do your interview now, do you?" Ashlee asked almost as soon as they were inside, and gave Patrick no time to respond before she pushed him down into his chair and Shane raised the camera to his shoulder to film.
"Introduce yourself," Ashlee prompted when Patrick continued to stare blankly at the camera.
"I'm Patrick, I'm twenty-five and I'm the manager of Clandestine Cakes."
Ashlee nodded encouragingly. "What does that entail?"
Patrick swiveled in his chair to look at the orders spread out over his desk. "Well people contact us about buying a cake. We go through their options, invite them in for a meeting to decide on designs and flavours and timescales. It's quite a complicated process to get everything perfect. Once that's all done, the orders have to be divided up between the team. Most people have a speciality area, something they're really good at. Like, Spencer makes animals really well, Gerard can do lots of intricate paint work."
Behind Ashlee the front door opened to admit Ryan, alone this morning, but with the usual two cups of coffee. He shot a baleful look at Shane as he placed Patrick's cup down in front of him, and then, much to Patrick's surprise, his lips quirked up in a supportive smile when he looked at Patrick.
Patrick cleared his throat and watched Ryan walk away. "Ryan's third in the chain of command. He's the most experienced and when Pete's too busy, like he is this week, Ryan's pretty much in charge." Patrick stopped and smiled. "Well, he does what I tell him."
"But you're not a baker or cake decorator," Ashlee asked, dragging Patrick back on track.
"No," Patrick agreed. "But managing the business doesn't mean I have to be able to bake the cakes myself. I know more about this company than anyone. Except maybe Pete."
"Couldn't you have found a high paying job somewhere else?"
Patrick thought about it for a moment and frowned.
"Maybe. But they wouldn't need me like Pete needs me."
Ashlee opened her mouth, no doubt ready to pounce on that statement, but the phone rang at that moment, bringing the interview to an end.
---
Pete was still shut up in his office when Patrick started to lock up. They were the only people left in the building, apart from Joe, who Patrick could hear clearing up in the kitchen. He switched off his computer and turned on the answer-phone. With a deep breath, he walked across to the office and knocked.
"Yeah?" Pete called out. He didn't look up when Patrick swung the door open and leaned in the doorway.
"Hey."
"Hey," Pete replied, but remained focused on whatever he was drawing. "Everything okay?"
Patrick fixed his eyes on the top of Pete's head and waited. Nothing happened. Patrick sighed. "You have to talk to me some time you know."
The, "Huh?" was absent and vague, but Patrick knew Pete wasn't as relaxed as he wanted to appear.
"Pete, please, just talk to me."
Finally, finally, Pete looked up, smiling and looking, to all intents and purposes, completely happy. Patrick knew better. "What do you want to talk about?"
Patrick stepped into the office and closed the door. "You've been avoiding me."
"I'm making your wedding cake," Pete responded. "You want it to be a surprise, don't you?"
"What I want," Patrick argued, "is for you to stop pretending everything is fine."
Pete deflated. He sighed and shook his head, giving a harsh little laugh as he curled in on himself. "No, you don't. You'd hate that. If I said everything I actually wanted to say, I'd lose my best friend. So I'm just going to stay quiet, stay out of your way and make this damn cake. And on Saturday I'll stand up there with you and be happy for you. I am happy for you."
"Pete," Patrick began, but stopped when Pete held up his hands.
"I don't want to hear it. I know, okay? You didn't do anything wrong. You just fell in love."
"So did you," Patrick whispered after a moment and then stood. "I should go."
"Yeah. I should get back to this."
"I can't wait to see it," Patrick said with a small smile. "See you tomorrow."
Pete watched him go, tossing his pencil down angrily when he heard the front door slam.
"Joe!"
It took five seconds for Joe to appear in the doorway.
"You bellowed?"
"Let's make this stupid cake and then get drunk."
Joe smiled back and rubbed his hands together. "I brought beer."
---
Pete spread the templates over the cakes and stared to cut out the basic shapes.
Joe cracked open a bottle of beer.
"Aren't you helping?" Pete asked, glancing up at Joe for a second. "I thought you were helping."
"I'm providing moral support," Joe replied, grinning. "Besides, you're better at that stuff than me.
"People always say that when they don't want to make any effort." Pete stood back and appraised the toms he'd sculpted, comparing it to the sketches. "Go and get the gum paste. You can start cutting out the albums. Even you can’t mess up a square."
Joe flipped him off, but slid off his stool and retrieved the gummy paste. "You want me to paint them too?"
Pete laughed. "Fuck no. They actually have to look like album covers not modern art. Brendon's going to do them tomorrow." He finished the shaping on the first drums and stood back again. "How they look?"
"It looks like cake, Pete," Joe said, not unkindly. Out of everyone in the building, except maybe Patrick, Joe was the person who could never see the finished article in his head. Not until it was actually finished. That was possibly why he spent all his time baking and not crafting. He smiled and shrugged.
Pete laughed and reached for the open beer. "It'll look better once the fondant is on it."
"I believe you," Joe said and threw a block of fondant at him. "Get to it."
--
Four hours (and far more fondant than should have been needed) later, the basic structure of the drum-kit was complete and covered. Pete marked out where everything else had to go on the base, the exact position of each of the albums and hats, and once he was satisfied that it might in fact be possible to finish before Saturday, he stood back and stared at it.
Joe didn't need to ask to know what he was thinking about.
"You remember that time in college when campus security caught me trying to sneak beer in?"
Pete's voice was quiet and strangely unexpected in the sudden stillness that had overcome the bakery. Joe had collapsed into Spencer's swivel-chair and was turning in slow circles, trying not to be too obvious about the way he was watching Pete. "Which time?"
"My birthday," Pete said with a half smile, finally turning away from the cake. He raised his third beer of the night to his lips and drained the last of it.
Joe remembered perfectly, though "sneak" probably wasn't the word he would have used.
Pete had been nicely drunk anyway, thanks to the surprise party Patrick had thrown for him. Joe had practically carried him home across campus at 2am, with Pete clutching tightly to a six-pack he'd lifted on his way out the door. He'd giggled non-stop, as they'd stumbled along, right into the path of of the guards. Joe had begged Pete to let him handle it, ignoring his stage-whispers and exaggerated shushing, to explain that Pete had just turned 25 and yes they knew it was technically against the rules, but it's not everyday you reach your quarter-century. Surprisingly, they'd gotten away with it and Joe had suffered all the way up to the fifth floor, with Pete thanking him for saving him, and his precious beer.
It took a while, and more patience than Joe thought he was capable of, but eventually they were inside Pete's room.
"Hey," Pete exclaimed, upon seeing his bed and promptly collapsed on top of it. Joe knelt down to take care of Pete's shoes. "Are you staying, Joe?" Pete mumbled into the pillow. Joe was surprised he hadn't immediately passed out.
"I guess someone has to make sure you don't die choking on your own vomit in the middle of the night."
Pete murmured contentedly and squirmed a little on the bed. Joe watched him fondly for a long moment before that clenching feeling started in his chest again, and he busied himself by covering Pete with a blanket and grabbing a new one out of the closet to curl up with in the chair.
"I love you, Joe."
"Just not as much as Patrick," Joe finished off, the way he had ever since they'd met Patrick a year earlier. It was a joke that was starting to hurt a little more every time, but now they'd been doing it too long for Joe to stop without comment.
"I love you too," he whispered back, but Pete was already asleep.
"What about it?" Joe asked now, wondering where Pete was headed with that train of thought.
"I don't know. Everything seemed simpler then I guess. I knew what was going on."
Joe laughed. He threw his head back and laugh until his stomach ached and he thought he might throw up if he laughed anymore. Pete watched him through it all, eyebrows raised, waiting.
"You didn't know anything. You don't know now and you didn't know then. You've been hiding for six years Pete."
"I have not been hiding," Pete argued, suddenly far more angry than he'd felt. "I've been in love with Patrick since I met him."
Joe snorted and got to his feet. "You've been in love with the idea of him. You always knew this day would come. It was safe to love him because you knew he'd never love you back. Anything else you say is just deluding yourself."
He took a couple of uneven steps forward towards the work table and started to clean up.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Pete growled.
Joe rolled his eyes. "Maybe not. But I'll bet you all the money I have that you don't either."
Pete's silence was all the answer either of them needed.
Thursday
It was almost lunchtime when Ashlee's head appeared around the kitchen door, smile still firmly in place.
"Joe, Joe, Joe, how's my favorite baker?"
Joe grinned. He couldn't help it. Ashlee's enthusiasm was contagious. "He's wondering what you want."
Magically, she was beside him in a second, pushing her hair back and peering into the cake batter he was mixing together. "I like your hair-net."
"What do you want?"
"Interview?" she said sweetly. Joe sighed but nodded and then smiled again when she bounced a little excited. "You really are my favorite you know. Except for maybe, Brendon."
"Gee thanks," Joe responded, with a roll of his eyes. "Can I finish up here first?"
"Sure thing. I'll just grab Shane."
Ten minutes later, Joe was shifting nervously in front of the camera. "Okay, how do we do this?"
"I just ask a couple of questions. Nothing too painful I promise," Ashlee explained, tapping Shane's shoulder absently. "How long have you been working for Pete?"
"I've been working here since we opened. There were just the three of us at the start. Well, there was Tom too but Pete doesn't like talking about that." Ashlee's eyebrows inched upwards and she made a note on her clipboard. Joe winced and shifted again. He started rubbing one of his arms. "Anyway, it's been me, Pete and Patrick ever since."
Ashlee nodded. "And now Patrick's getting married. How do you think that will affect the dynamics of the company?"
Joe was starting to think that Ashlee's sweet and innocent personality was a front to hide the devious and determined mind she obviously possessed.
"I don't think it will. They've been best friends forever. Nothing's going to change."
This time Ashlee didn't say anything. She just stared at him and waited.
"Aren't you supposed to be asking questions about baking?"
"We've covered all of that. Human interest stories, that's what people want to see."
"We're not that interesting," Joe protested, looking around nervously for a way to escape.
"Oh I wouldn't say that," Ashlee argued. "So tell me, why did you come to work for Pete?"
---
Joe was still cleaning up when Patrick left for the night and Pete was finally able to put the finishing touches on his cake.
Ryan raised his head and gave it a faint appreciative glance when Pete pulled it out into the open. He glanced towards Brendon, who had agreed to stay late to help paint the album covers. Brendon was intent on his work and Ryan looked away again quickly. Pete would surely have teased him if he hadn't been so pre-occupied.
"Joe!" he shouted, eager to get started.
"Five minutes," Joe yelled back and Pete grimaced.
"Ry? Any chance of...?"
"Peter," Ryan interrupted, head still bent over sheet of fondant and butterfly stencil he was cutting around. "Do you see the three cakes sitting here? I know you're not going to ask me to leave these to help you make the base of cake you could have been working on for weeks."
Pete glared at the top of Ryan's head. "Remind me again why I don't fire you?"
Ryan snorted. "Because nothing would get done?"
Pete wanted to protest. He did. But Ryan had a valid point, so he settled for sticking out his tongue. "Joe!" he shouted again and jumped when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.
"I'm right here. Are we doing this?"
---
It was later than either of them realized by the time Joe stood, popping his back and rubbing his eyes. “Let’s call it a night,” Pete said, and for the first time in a few hours, stepped back to look at how far they’d come. The base of the cake was now covered in gum-paste replicas of all of Patrick's favorite albums.
There were finishing touches to be done of course, but they could wait until the following evening. Pete gave a satisfied nod and smiled at Joe.
"Well?"
"It looks good," Joe said through a yawn as he stretched. "You should give Brendon a raise."
Pete laughed and glanced across at Brendon who was asleep at his desk, head pillowed on his arms. "Both Brendon and Ryan will be adequately compensated."
"Damn right they will," Ryan called from across the room, but it was quiet enough that it didn't wake Brendon.
Pete looked back at Patrick's cake and pointed at the stool sitting behind the drum-kit, that Joe had managed to put together. “Maybe we shouldn’t be hiding you away in the kitchen all the time.”
“I like the kitchen,” Joe said easily, and helped Pete carefully lift the cake and slide it into a box they were using to hide it. “I’m the only one with the luxury of avoiding you when I want.”
“Ha ha,” Pete said dryly, and would have sought retribution if it weren’t for the very important cake they were holding. "Hey," he said, grabbing Joe's arm once the cake was secured and Joe made a move away. "Do you want to go get a beer?"
---
It had been far too long, Pete thought when he and Joe collapsed into a booth at the local bar, since he and Joe had done anything together outside of work. It had been far too long in fact, since Pete himself had done anything outside of work. Most nights he stayed late to finish things off; he always felt more creative at night than during the day. Besides, mornings just weren't really his thing. Never had been.
Joe took a long pull of his beer and gave a satisfied sigh. He held up his bottle towards Pete in a toast. "To Patrick."
"To Patrick," Pete echoed, clinking their bottles together. "Only one more day."
"And then what happens?"
Pete shrugged and began to laugh. "I don't know. It's over I guess. I mean, I know there's nothing now. Nothing's actually going to change for me. It's just, the end of an era."
"He's just getting married. He's not leaving."
"Joe..."
"I have been in love before," Joe continued, ignoring Pete and picking up the conversation from two days earlier. "I know exactly what you're going through with Patrick. I know it's not easy loving someone who so obviously loves someone else, but you have to get on with your life."
Pete frowned at Joe. "Who the hell have you been in love with that you wouldn't tell...?"
He didn't even need to finish. Joe's eye-roll said it all. Pete watched Joe drink his beer, his head suddenly buzzing with a million thoughts. He was the biggest idiot alive.
"Joe..."
"I don't want to hear it," Joe sighed. "This sudden realisation that I've been in love with you since I met you. I knew it was always him and never me."
Pete nodded slowly, more for something to do that agreement. He wasn't paying full attention just turning the words over and over in his head. Joe was in love him. For a moment, he wondered how he'd missed the clues on that one. Patrick had always known about Pete's infatuation, but somehow, Pete had failed to notice the same in Joe. He began to replay their every moment together in his head and something occurred to him. Joe had always been there, right from the very beginning, when no one believed in Pete, not even Pete himself. Joe had been the one to convince him he could make it. Joe had been the one he'd stayed up nights with, planning out the business. Joe had been the one he'd called when he'd found the perfect building, when he'd found Ryan and Spencer. Joe had been the one he'd gone to at 3 a.m. after the disaster with Tom. Joe was always first. He always had been first.
"I should go."
Pete snapped back to attention in time to see Joe getting to his feet. "What? Why? Where are you going?"
"Home," Joe said wearily. "I'm tired. I can't do this anymore today."
Pete shot to his feet and grabbed Joe's hand. "Wait."
"Pete, please..."
"Just, let me try something, okay?" Pete leaned in slowly and kissed Joe. It was hesitant and soft and Pete felt a burst of astonishment and excitement and joy, because this was what he'd been waiting for. Nothing else he'd ever done or imagined came close. All that time spent wondering about Patrick when Joe was right there, and so real and amazing and perfect for him.
He pulled back slowly from the kiss. His hands had risen of their own volition to rest on Joe's shoulders, his thumbs stroking the curve of Joe's neck.
"Wow," Pete breathed slowly, heart racing. He opened his eyes. The smile on his face felt too big. "Joe..."
In one swift wrenching movement Joe stepped back away from Pete and with an angry glare in his direction, raced for the door.
Friday
Things were awkward the next day. Pete tried to be as casual as possible but somehow everyone could tell that something had happened. Patrick knew. Even worse, Ashlee knew and that meant she was sticking to Pete like glue.
"What's going on Pete?" Patrick hissed when Ashlee went to break up some sort of argument Ryan was having with Shane.
"What do you mean?"
Patrick gave Pete a look that said "You're kidding," better than words ever could.
"I'm just sitting here."
"It's six thirty. You're never usually here before seven. Not in all the time we've been here." Patrick watched him, clearly suspicious. "Has something happened?"
"No," Pete protested, looking back at the door. "Nothing happened." He checked the clock on the wall again. "What time does Joe usually get here?"
Patrick frowned. "Uh, eight."
Pete bit his lip. "Okay. I'll be in my office then, if you need me. If Joe comes in..."
"I'll send him in."
---
Joe didn't turn up eight. Or nine. At ten, Pete started pacing from Patrick's desk to the door and opening it to check if Joe was outside. He wasn't.
Patrick watched Pete, growing increasingly worried and confused by the whole situation.
"Pete," Patrick stopped him when he made his fourth pass, "What happened with Joe?"
"Nothing," Pete stated firmly. "Have you tried calling?"
Patrick nodded. "There was no answer. I left a message."
Pete grabbed his coat and marched back towards the door. "I'll be back. I just want to make sure he's okay."
"Pete!" Patrick shouted, wishing he knew anything about what was going on. Pete however, had already gone.
---
"Trohman!" Pete shouted, banging on the door to Joe's apartment. "Come on dude. Let me in." He paused and pressed his ear to the door. "Joe!" He started banging again.
"Oh my God," Joe finally shouted, pulling the door open. "Shut the fuck up, man. I live here. People will complain."
"People should be at work," Pete said, pushing past him into the apartment. "Why aren't you at work?"
Joe pushed the door closed, leaned against it and rubbed his hands over his face. "Pete, after last night..."
"I was worried about you."
"I'm sorry, but after last night I just couldn't face it."
Pete stayed silent for a while, watching Joe from across the room. "I know I'm an idiot."
"Correct."
"When I was thinking, the other day about my birthday..."
Joe shook his head and interrupted. "I don't want to be some consolation prize. Patrick is getting married and you're upset. I get that. Forget..."
This time it was Pete who interrupted Joe, the best way he knew how.
"You have to stop doing that," Joe insisted when Pete finally pulled back. "You can't just keep grabbing me and kissing me. I deserve better than being runner-up to..."
Pete clamped his hand over Joe's mouth and started to laugh. "Do you ever shut up? I was trying to tell you, you're not runner-up. Me and Patrick, that was never anything except in my head. It was... nothing. You are real. You..." Pete took his hand away and kissed Joe gently. "You make me happy."
Saturday
"Are you nervous?" Pete asked, as Patrick straightened his tie in the mirror. Patrick caught his eye and nodded. He looked vaguely petrified. "You'll be fine," Pete continued, patting him on the shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner.
"I can't do this," Patrick said, spinning around to face Pete properly. "What was I thinking?
Pete held Patrick by the shoulders and gave him a little shake, letting their foreheads come to rest together. "You were thinking you have this fabulous girl you love and you want to spend the rest of your life with her."
Patrick tried to nod and Pete smiled.
"Deep breath.
---
The ceremony passed without a hitch. Pete watched on with pride as Patrick said his vows and if he felt any tug of disappointment it was momentary and quickly exiled by the wink Joe sent him from the front row.
His speech was short and touching. Patrick beamed at him with such obvious joy, he wondered how he could ever have wanted things to turn out differently. Once he'd made his toast, he signaled to Ryan and Spencer who carried in Patrick's cake.
"Oh my God," Patrick exclaimed as he hugged Pete after inspecting every inch of the cake. "That's just... thank you man. Thank you. Seriously, that's the most amazing cake I've ever seen. "
He inspected the cake again and Pete watched on, happy and smiling as Patrick and Lisa took photos and then cut into the cake, bypassing completely the gorgeous three tier pink and gold concoction Ryan had slaved over for three days. A glance in Ryan's direction told Pete exactly what he thought of that.
---
It was much later when Pete finally managed to catch Joe alone. Patrick and Lisa were dancing, Brendon and Ryan were having what looked like a very serious argument in one corner, while Spencer was mooning over Jon from across the room. Joe was watching it all with some bemusement.
"You having fun Trohman?" Pete asked, pulling up a chair next to Joe at the table. "You're all alone."
"Well," Joe replied taking a sip of champagne. "My date disappeared to do his duties as best man leaving me to find my own amusement."
"And have you?" Pete leaned closer, letting his lips brush lightly against Joe's ear. He could see a smile forming along with the blush on Joe's face.
"Oh, I think so." Joe turned his head and caught Pete's lips quickly with his own. "I'm having the best week ever."
The End