Sunshine and Eye Daggers- Chapter 12
patrick's birthday should be a national holiday, like halloween, except instead of candy, we all overdose on patrick picspam (totally sweeter)
Title: Sunshine and Eyedaggers- Chapter 12
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
Rating: G
Summary: College AU fic, Pete is annoying, Patrick is not amused.
Disclaimer: not real, don't own, you know the deal.
beta'd beautifully by the eternally fabulous
megyal
Previously: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11
so, I had planned to do an andy picspam, but that'll have to wait til next chapter, because honestly I can't be bothered to concentrate on anything but this. (courtesy of
psychodragon82)
but for illustrative purposes, the hat in question:
woot woot 504 plan love!
and goddamn, that's a cute face.
“Pete.” Joe dropped to couch next to where Pete sat idly picking his nails over the bass in his lap.
“Dude. Where the hell is Andy?”
“Actually…” Joe coughed in an extremely unbelievable manner and Pete looked up from his nails and straight into Joe’s classic puppy-dog eyes.
Pete narrowed his eyes against the expression. “What?”
“Well I know you’ve been working really hard for the band and your enthusiasm is really great, seriously, but …well ...me and Andy were talking--”
“Trohman, you are not kicking me out.” Pete cocked an eyebrow and clutched his bass, telepathically challenging. Try it, bitch.
“Oh, fuck no, but we thought maybe, you know, we could get a real singer.”
“Fuck you, I am a real singer!”
Joe sighed. “Come on, Pete. You’re a good screamer …but this isn’t a hardcore band.”
“Well. Yeah, my vocals need some work.”
“Pete, you pretty much suck.”
Pete attempted to push Joe’s shoulder, but missed when he leapt quickly from the couch.
“You’re pretty much a douche.” Joe smiled serenely as Pete frowned; he settled comfortably on the arm of the couch farthest from Pete, who gave a dramatic sigh. “But fine, we’ll put out flyers or something.”
Joe grinned. “Actually, Andy said he might know a guy. And he’s, uh, bringing him to practice.”
“No, really. You guys are both douches.” Pete placed his bass on the cushion next to him and stood, “I’m going to the kitchen. To eat your mom’s cookies. Don’t call me until that other asshole gets here with my replacement.”
“Right-o, captain.”
It wasn’t entirely necessary, but it made Pete feel better to throw back a “Fuck off, Trohman.” Just to have the last word.
The sound of the doorbell caught Pete halfway through his fifth cookie and he nearly choked in his rush to get to the front door.
Pete stood behind Joe as he reached the door, leaning over his left shoulder in what he hoped was an irritating manner. Joe elbowed him in the stomach and opened the door.
Pete literally gasped.
“Andy,” Joe pulled the door back so the drummer could enter and he peered at the other boy.
“Hey, this is Patrick,” Andy said, hand moving in a mock-suave manner to include the short boy. Patrick waved slightly.
“Joe …right?”
Joe nodded and the two shook hands. Apparently no one was going to acknowledge Pete’s rather loud gasp. “Hey, Pete.” Patrick sounded unsurprised, collected, cool, pretty much everything that Pete wasn’t at that moment.
Patrick put out his hand for Pete to shake and Pete stared at it. For a moment he contemplated closing the door, leaving Patrick on the stoop with his outstretched arm. But that was just silly, so instead Pete’s brain stuttered a moment and then cooled down; Pete shook Patrick’s hand.
“Hey.” Pete was so very proud of the nonchalance in his voice.
Patrick gave him a relieved look and a grin that hurt Pete’s stomach before dropping his hand and walking in.
“I didn’t know you sang, Patrick.” Pete slunk off to the living-room couch and his bass, in a great show of detachment as he sat and dragged the instrument into his hands, but the other three were still standing near the door.
“I haven’t really before, but I figured I’d try it.”
Pete scowled into his lap, not at all missing the irony in the fact that it was probably his words that had given Patrick the idea.
“Cool, cool.” Joe motioned for Andy and Patrick to follow him. “We practice in the basement. You want a soda or something before we start?” Andy shook his head in response while Patrick simultaneously nodded. Joe pointed towards the kitchen. “They’re in the fridge,” he said lightly while heading down the stairs with Andy close on his heels.
Patrick crossed the living room without looking at Pete until he reached the entrance to the kitchen and then stopped, one hand on the doorframe. He leant back a little and craned his head over his shoulder towards Pete, still on the couch. “Do you want anything?”
“No.” Perhaps a little too abrupt, but still semi-indifferent. Pete waited until Patrick was fully into the kitchen before grabbing his bass and making a break for the basement. He was brought to a halt, his foot almost on the first step down, by Patrick calling his name from the kitchen. Pete sighed and turned on his heel.
“Yeah?” His voice was wary as he trudged back.
They met in the middle of the living-room, Patrick’s recently popped ginger-ale hissing quietly. A blush was sliding up Patrick’s neck, but he looked Pete in the eye.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay with this.”
Pete opened his mouth to finally apologize, but what came out instead was: “You’re wearing my hat.”
Patrick wrinkled his nose in amusement and tugged on the brim of the baseball cap in question. “Did you want it back?” he asked as he started to tilt up the brim.
“No! No, you can keep it.”
“Oh, good. I wear it almost everyday,” Patrick grinned and Pete didn’t quite know what to do with himself just then so he grinned back, out of habit.
“So you’re okay with this? I didn’t know it was you and Joe until today, in the car with Andy.”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
Patrick gave him a look of disbelief. “Because,” he wrinkled his brow in consternation, “’Cause you made a move, and I... Well, I've kinda been avoiding you. ”
Pete figured he had brought that on himself and Patrick didn’t mean any spite by it, but his tone was still pinched as he faked a laugh. “Oh, yeah! That.”
Patrick raised his eyebrows, waiting for Pete to continue.
Pete floundered and stood there, waiting for inspiration; he actually waited a full ten seconds before he laughed again and just said, “Hey, let’s check out those pipes then!”
Patrick smiled nervously and began walking towards the dimly lit staircase leading down. Pete took just a moment to cringe at his own uncool while Patrick’s back was to him, before following to the basement.
Title: Sunshine and Eyedaggers- Chapter 12
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
Rating: G
Summary: College AU fic, Pete is annoying, Patrick is not amused.
Disclaimer: not real, don't own, you know the deal.
beta'd beautifully by the eternally fabulous
megyal
Previously: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11
so, I had planned to do an andy picspam, but that'll have to wait til next chapter, because honestly I can't be bothered to concentrate on anything but this. (courtesy of
psychodragon82)
but for illustrative purposes, the hat in question:
woot woot 504 plan love!
and goddamn, that's a cute face.
“Pete.” Joe dropped to couch next to where Pete sat idly picking his nails over the bass in his lap.
“Dude. Where the hell is Andy?”
“Actually…” Joe coughed in an extremely unbelievable manner and Pete looked up from his nails and straight into Joe’s classic puppy-dog eyes.
Pete narrowed his eyes against the expression. “What?”
“Well I know you’ve been working really hard for the band and your enthusiasm is really great, seriously, but …well ...me and Andy were talking--”
“Trohman, you are not kicking me out.” Pete cocked an eyebrow and clutched his bass, telepathically challenging. Try it, bitch.
“Oh, fuck no, but we thought maybe, you know, we could get a real singer.”
“Fuck you, I am a real singer!”
Joe sighed. “Come on, Pete. You’re a good screamer …but this isn’t a hardcore band.”
“Well. Yeah, my vocals need some work.”
“Pete, you pretty much suck.”
Pete attempted to push Joe’s shoulder, but missed when he leapt quickly from the couch.
“You’re pretty much a douche.” Joe smiled serenely as Pete frowned; he settled comfortably on the arm of the couch farthest from Pete, who gave a dramatic sigh. “But fine, we’ll put out flyers or something.”
Joe grinned. “Actually, Andy said he might know a guy. And he’s, uh, bringing him to practice.”
“No, really. You guys are both douches.” Pete placed his bass on the cushion next to him and stood, “I’m going to the kitchen. To eat your mom’s cookies. Don’t call me until that other asshole gets here with my replacement.”
“Right-o, captain.”
It wasn’t entirely necessary, but it made Pete feel better to throw back a “Fuck off, Trohman.” Just to have the last word.
The sound of the doorbell caught Pete halfway through his fifth cookie and he nearly choked in his rush to get to the front door.
Pete stood behind Joe as he reached the door, leaning over his left shoulder in what he hoped was an irritating manner. Joe elbowed him in the stomach and opened the door.
Pete literally gasped.
“Andy,” Joe pulled the door back so the drummer could enter and he peered at the other boy.
“Hey, this is Patrick,” Andy said, hand moving in a mock-suave manner to include the short boy. Patrick waved slightly.
“Joe …right?”
Joe nodded and the two shook hands. Apparently no one was going to acknowledge Pete’s rather loud gasp. “Hey, Pete.” Patrick sounded unsurprised, collected, cool, pretty much everything that Pete wasn’t at that moment.
Patrick put out his hand for Pete to shake and Pete stared at it. For a moment he contemplated closing the door, leaving Patrick on the stoop with his outstretched arm. But that was just silly, so instead Pete’s brain stuttered a moment and then cooled down; Pete shook Patrick’s hand.
“Hey.” Pete was so very proud of the nonchalance in his voice.
Patrick gave him a relieved look and a grin that hurt Pete’s stomach before dropping his hand and walking in.
“I didn’t know you sang, Patrick.” Pete slunk off to the living-room couch and his bass, in a great show of detachment as he sat and dragged the instrument into his hands, but the other three were still standing near the door.
“I haven’t really before, but I figured I’d try it.”
Pete scowled into his lap, not at all missing the irony in the fact that it was probably his words that had given Patrick the idea.
“Cool, cool.” Joe motioned for Andy and Patrick to follow him. “We practice in the basement. You want a soda or something before we start?” Andy shook his head in response while Patrick simultaneously nodded. Joe pointed towards the kitchen. “They’re in the fridge,” he said lightly while heading down the stairs with Andy close on his heels.
Patrick crossed the living room without looking at Pete until he reached the entrance to the kitchen and then stopped, one hand on the doorframe. He leant back a little and craned his head over his shoulder towards Pete, still on the couch. “Do you want anything?”
“No.” Perhaps a little too abrupt, but still semi-indifferent. Pete waited until Patrick was fully into the kitchen before grabbing his bass and making a break for the basement. He was brought to a halt, his foot almost on the first step down, by Patrick calling his name from the kitchen. Pete sighed and turned on his heel.
“Yeah?” His voice was wary as he trudged back.
They met in the middle of the living-room, Patrick’s recently popped ginger-ale hissing quietly. A blush was sliding up Patrick’s neck, but he looked Pete in the eye.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay with this.”
Pete opened his mouth to finally apologize, but what came out instead was: “You’re wearing my hat.”
Patrick wrinkled his nose in amusement and tugged on the brim of the baseball cap in question. “Did you want it back?” he asked as he started to tilt up the brim.
“No! No, you can keep it.”
“Oh, good. I wear it almost everyday,” Patrick grinned and Pete didn’t quite know what to do with himself just then so he grinned back, out of habit.
“So you’re okay with this? I didn’t know it was you and Joe until today, in the car with Andy.”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
Patrick gave him a look of disbelief. “Because,” he wrinkled his brow in consternation, “’Cause you made a move, and I... Well, I've kinda been avoiding you. ”
Pete figured he had brought that on himself and Patrick didn’t mean any spite by it, but his tone was still pinched as he faked a laugh. “Oh, yeah! That.”
Patrick raised his eyebrows, waiting for Pete to continue.
Pete floundered and stood there, waiting for inspiration; he actually waited a full ten seconds before he laughed again and just said, “Hey, let’s check out those pipes then!”
Patrick smiled nervously and began walking towards the dimly lit staircase leading down. Pete took just a moment to cringe at his own uncool while Patrick’s back was to him, before following to the basement.