Kisses on the Necks of Best Friends: Chapter III
Title: Kisses on the Necks of Best Friends
Author: Sue (
pseudonumity)
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: PG-13 and angsty.
Summary: Time for a little backstory, yes?
Author’s Notes: I wasn’t planning this when I started, so if you’re incredibly anal, you’ll probably spot a few continuity flaws, but it’s vague enough that there aren’t any contradictions.
Disclaimer: Not true and not mine.
Chapters: I & II, III, IV & V
Chapter III
Neither one of them really knew what was going on. It always sounded so stupid when people said “it just happened,” but apparently, sometimes it really did just happen. They weren’t flirting or touching or anything, just sitting on the couch talking, but suddenly there was a kiss, and then hands, and then two short zippers.
Even now, months later, Patrick still couldn’t remember for the life of him who had kissed whom. He didn’t remember leaning in, but he didn’t remember Pete leaning in either. All he remembered was how it had felt to be so close to Pete, skin on skin. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure how he had felt about Pete at the time. There was the perpetually flirtatious friendship, but was there genuine interest?
It was completely new to Patrick, having a man touch him. It was so different: the strength in Pete’s hands, his firm body, even the way he kissed. It was all completely male, completely masculine. Even when Pete pulled his knees towards his chest, offering himself to Patrick, he wasn’t “being the girl”, he was still Pete, and oh God he felt so good.
So what the fuck had happened? Patrick remembered falling asleep afterwards, still curled into Pete, but he had woken up alone. For days Pete would hardly speak to him. Eye contact became incidental and always ended in Pete looking away. Patrick didn’t want to admit to himself how hurt he was, so he forced himself to call the hurt anger and drew enough strength from it to confront Pete.
“So what the fuck is going on here?” Patrick’s voice was only a hair shy of a bellow.
Pete made a quiet sound that may have been a whispered response, but came out as little more than a sigh.
“That’s not an answer. You’re going to have to do better than… look at me!” Patrick grabbed Pete by the shoulders and stood him up, pinning him against the wall. “You’re not even going to talk about it? Give me something! Tell me it was a mistake or a one time thing or that you want to act like it never happened, just tell me something!”
Pete looked at Patrick, a mixture of sad and hurt and tired that would have done Hemingway proud.
“You’re really not going to say anything.” Patrick let go of Pete, no longer angry, just disappointed. He dropped his eyes and turned to walk away, but Pete grabbed his wrist. Patrick debated just pulling free and leaving, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know when it had happened, but at some point between sleeping together and that moment, he had become completely stuck on Pete, maybe even to the point of being in love with him. There was no way he could walk away. He looked up and met Pete’s eyes, which were now sad and hurt and tired but also pleading.
Patrick turned back and rushed into Pete, kissing him furiously. His hands cupped Pete’s face, held the back of his neck, groped every inch of available skin, but all too soon he realized Pete wasn’t kissing him back, wasn’t touching him or holding him, he was just standing there.
Patrick knew he needed to pull back, the get the fuck away from Pete, but he couldn’t seem to do it. He clung to Pete, digging in his fingers with enough force that it must have been painful, but there was still no response.
“God, Pete, please, just say anything. I don’t even care what.”
Pete just stood there, silently staring at Patrick.
Patrick fought himself not to cry. It took more will than he knew he had to step back from Pete, but he did, not looking up, refusing to meet Pete’s eyes, and walked away.
Two weeks later he was at some shitty after party, not really talking to anyone. He clung to the walls and just waited for the night to end. He hadn’t even noticed that William had sat down beside him and followed his gaze.
“So it isn’t just a fangirl fantasy, then?”
Patrick snapped out of his reverie and stared at William as if seeing him for the first time. He wanted to make some little joke that would completely dispel the notion, but William had already seen it in his eyes. He placed on hand lightly on Patrick’s thigh.
“You want me to make it feel better?”