schmoop_bingo: I may be cheesy but I'm the truth
title: I may be cheesy but I'm the truth
pairing: Peterick
pov: 3rd
rating: PG (just a couple of bad words)
prompt: proposal
summary: He doesn’t know how to do it. He’s a cliché on legs, he knows he’s going to do something super cheesy or super stupid or…
disclaimer: oh, come on...
A/N: for schmoop_bingo - i have a shit-ton of works in progress,yet i wrote a totally new one,yeaaaah :B
He doesn’t know how to do it. He’s a cliché on legs, he knows he’s going to do something super cheesy or super stupid or…
And who assures him that Patrick will accept? Especially not after the 1942 times he proposed his best friend to get married (well, not really, but he actually counted them, whether they were playful questions or totally serious ones: it makes 53 times in a span of ten years), only to be turned off with a laugh. This is the problem: Patrick has never taken Pete seriously, love wise -he still can’t believe that they ended together together, though, one year ago…hey, it was New Year’s eve and the time was perfect for asking Patrick out, with the fireworks and all; the friend was so caught in the awe of the moment that he actually accepted (Pete may or may not have heard him mutter a “fucking finally, Pete”, he’s not sure, the noise of the fireworks was quite loud).
Maybe he should go with the cheesy proposal, then? Romantic, candle-lit dinner, with a bunch of roses on the table and a ring box between the flowers? Effects may vary: either Patrick will laugh and demand to quit pranking him, or blush enough to frizzle the chair and leave Pete’s house right then and there, not talking to him for at least a week and leaving him anxious for the answer.
He could go throwing pebbles at Patrick’s window, one night, and write “Will you marry me?” with fire in the frontyard before riding his bike away (it totally isn’t inspired by their Dance Dance video, no).
He could-- nah, he can’t leave a fucking note in Patrick’s bunk with “Will you marry me? Check ‘yes’ or ‘yes’!”, it’s too much fifth grade.
He could dedicate him a song, but he can’t sing, goddammit, and a growled or screamed proposal isn’t exactly nice to receive. Oh, he could prepare a mixtape and blast it from his car, but Patrick’s neighbors will kill him -and Patrick will resuscitate him to kill him again to vent his embarrassment.
Pete slumps on the armchair, discouraged, splitting his head in four to make Patrick consider his proposal as a serious one, not like the past ones that Pete admits were quite sketchy and enthusiasm- (and possibly drunk-) induced.
Scratch the cheesy proposal, let’s try something else.
Casually drop the subject during an interview for an important magazine or radio show? Rent an aerostatic balloon to spread flyers all over the city? Rent a huge-ass screen in the city center to display the ‘delicate’ question to everyone? We’re almost falling in the cheesy-field again, though.
No matter what he thinks of, but with such ideas Patrick will have his balls on a platinum plate in less than two hours (with aromatized potatoes on the side).
What about getting Patrick drunk and booking a last minute flight to Las Vegas to have Elvis Presley officiate their wedding? Uhm, no, they’ll both regret it in the morning and sign the papers for the divorce, ending in competition with Britney Spears for the quickest wedding…Actually Pete won’t be too regretful, but he knows how his boyfriend (!!!) is and if this ever happened it would most likely end that way, let alone having a fuming Patrick that would dump him and not talk to him ever again.
Pete needs the energy to continue to find a way to finally be called Mr Stump-Wentz (insert mental manly squeal), so he orders a pizza and distracts himself zapping through every channel.
He’s willing himself to change channel after he ended on a talk show that is hosting people remembering how they met with their significant other and how they got married, when the doorbell rings. He goes for the door while extracting two crumpled tens out of his wallet and expects Pizza Guy to be on the other side of the door with his hot delicious pizza, but when he opens the door he sees hot delicious Patrick with his hot delicious pizza (Pete feels like an idiot for his momentary poor vocabulary).
“Hey,” the guest greets.
“Hey. I didn’t know you worked for Franco in your freetime,” Pete says a bit awkwardly.
Patrick rolls his eyes, “Of course I don’t, dumbass, I just met the pizza boy on your doormat.”
Pete nods and steps aside to let the impromptu Pizza Guy in, but Patrick doesn’t move. Instead, he takes a deep breath and says, “It’s eight bucks and a ‘yes’ for my proposal to marry me.”
Pete stares dumbfounded, looking at Patrick’s redredred cheeks and at the tiny velvety box he’s just fished out of his jeans’ pocket. The older man calmly takes the pizza box and puts it in precarious equilibrium on the couch’s armrest, returns to Patrick and finally drops the serious face, throwing himself eagerly at his boyfriend -or can he already say fiancé?
“Yes, yes, yes, mothefucker. Always and forever yes,” he declares in a bone-crushing hug before moving his attention to Patrick’s smiling lips and kiss them passionately. When they break apart, and Patrick has finally entered the house, Pete can’t help but ask, “Why have you never taken my proposals seriously?”
“’Cause you are never serious, duh,” Patrick states matter-of-factly, yet with a hint of playfulness, “But really, it’s just because…I don’t know, maybe I was just old school and wanted to become your boyfriend before being asked to marry you on the spot. You have to understand that a proposal half an hour after we met -and after you made fun of my outfit- threw me a bit off, and the following 50 during the years became a bit old and you never looked serious enough to be, you know, serious. The last two, though, made me think because we were finally together, but I was too much of a pussy to show you how excited I was and to accept without a blink. So here I am, proposing you with a double cheese pizza and a cheesy engagement ring in a cheesy box,” he ends with a shrug of his shoulders.
“You counted them,” Pete shakes his head amused and not frustrated anymore, kissing his Patrick square on the mouth.
pairing: Peterick
pov: 3rd
rating: PG (just a couple of bad words)
prompt: proposal
summary: He doesn’t know how to do it. He’s a cliché on legs, he knows he’s going to do something super cheesy or super stupid or…
disclaimer: oh, come on...
A/N: for schmoop_bingo - i have a shit-ton of works in progress,yet i wrote a totally new one,yeaaaah :B
He doesn’t know how to do it. He’s a cliché on legs, he knows he’s going to do something super cheesy or super stupid or…
And who assures him that Patrick will accept? Especially not after the 1942 times he proposed his best friend to get married (well, not really, but he actually counted them, whether they were playful questions or totally serious ones: it makes 53 times in a span of ten years), only to be turned off with a laugh. This is the problem: Patrick has never taken Pete seriously, love wise -he still can’t believe that they ended together together, though, one year ago…hey, it was New Year’s eve and the time was perfect for asking Patrick out, with the fireworks and all; the friend was so caught in the awe of the moment that he actually accepted (Pete may or may not have heard him mutter a “fucking finally, Pete”, he’s not sure, the noise of the fireworks was quite loud).
Maybe he should go with the cheesy proposal, then? Romantic, candle-lit dinner, with a bunch of roses on the table and a ring box between the flowers? Effects may vary: either Patrick will laugh and demand to quit pranking him, or blush enough to frizzle the chair and leave Pete’s house right then and there, not talking to him for at least a week and leaving him anxious for the answer.
He could go throwing pebbles at Patrick’s window, one night, and write “Will you marry me?” with fire in the frontyard before riding his bike away (it totally isn’t inspired by their Dance Dance video, no).
He could-- nah, he can’t leave a fucking note in Patrick’s bunk with “Will you marry me? Check ‘yes’ or ‘yes’!”, it’s too much fifth grade.
He could dedicate him a song, but he can’t sing, goddammit, and a growled or screamed proposal isn’t exactly nice to receive. Oh, he could prepare a mixtape and blast it from his car, but Patrick’s neighbors will kill him -and Patrick will resuscitate him to kill him again to vent his embarrassment.
Pete slumps on the armchair, discouraged, splitting his head in four to make Patrick consider his proposal as a serious one, not like the past ones that Pete admits were quite sketchy and enthusiasm- (and possibly drunk-) induced.
Scratch the cheesy proposal, let’s try something else.
Casually drop the subject during an interview for an important magazine or radio show? Rent an aerostatic balloon to spread flyers all over the city? Rent a huge-ass screen in the city center to display the ‘delicate’ question to everyone? We’re almost falling in the cheesy-field again, though.
No matter what he thinks of, but with such ideas Patrick will have his balls on a platinum plate in less than two hours (with aromatized potatoes on the side).
What about getting Patrick drunk and booking a last minute flight to Las Vegas to have Elvis Presley officiate their wedding? Uhm, no, they’ll both regret it in the morning and sign the papers for the divorce, ending in competition with Britney Spears for the quickest wedding…Actually Pete won’t be too regretful, but he knows how his boyfriend (!!!) is and if this ever happened it would most likely end that way, let alone having a fuming Patrick that would dump him and not talk to him ever again.
Pete needs the energy to continue to find a way to finally be called Mr Stump-Wentz (insert mental manly squeal), so he orders a pizza and distracts himself zapping through every channel.
He’s willing himself to change channel after he ended on a talk show that is hosting people remembering how they met with their significant other and how they got married, when the doorbell rings. He goes for the door while extracting two crumpled tens out of his wallet and expects Pizza Guy to be on the other side of the door with his hot delicious pizza, but when he opens the door he sees hot delicious Patrick with his hot delicious pizza (Pete feels like an idiot for his momentary poor vocabulary).
“Hey,” the guest greets.
“Hey. I didn’t know you worked for Franco in your freetime,” Pete says a bit awkwardly.
Patrick rolls his eyes, “Of course I don’t, dumbass, I just met the pizza boy on your doormat.”
Pete nods and steps aside to let the impromptu Pizza Guy in, but Patrick doesn’t move. Instead, he takes a deep breath and says, “It’s eight bucks and a ‘yes’ for my proposal to marry me.”
Pete stares dumbfounded, looking at Patrick’s redredred cheeks and at the tiny velvety box he’s just fished out of his jeans’ pocket. The older man calmly takes the pizza box and puts it in precarious equilibrium on the couch’s armrest, returns to Patrick and finally drops the serious face, throwing himself eagerly at his boyfriend -or can he already say fiancé?
“Yes, yes, yes, mothefucker. Always and forever yes,” he declares in a bone-crushing hug before moving his attention to Patrick’s smiling lips and kiss them passionately. When they break apart, and Patrick has finally entered the house, Pete can’t help but ask, “Why have you never taken my proposals seriously?”
“’Cause you are never serious, duh,” Patrick states matter-of-factly, yet with a hint of playfulness, “But really, it’s just because…I don’t know, maybe I was just old school and wanted to become your boyfriend before being asked to marry you on the spot. You have to understand that a proposal half an hour after we met -and after you made fun of my outfit- threw me a bit off, and the following 50 during the years became a bit old and you never looked serious enough to be, you know, serious. The last two, though, made me think because we were finally together, but I was too much of a pussy to show you how excited I was and to accept without a blink. So here I am, proposing you with a double cheese pizza and a cheesy engagement ring in a cheesy box,” he ends with a shrug of his shoulders.
“You counted them,” Pete shakes his head amused and not frustrated anymore, kissing his Patrick square on the mouth.