If You've Got Some Sugar For Me... [S/A]
Title: If You've Got Some Sugar For Me...
Rating/Warnings: R. Implied sex, swearing, Gabe Saporta.
Pairing: Pete/Patrick (background Matt/Andy, Gabe/William, Kyle/Stu, implied Matt/Andy/Patrick)
Word Count: 7022
Summary: Patrick is tired of dating losers. When he gets talked into joining a website of sugar daddies looking for lovers to spoil, he has no intention of doing more than finding a little fun. Pete, of course, has other plans.
Author's Notes: Title and cut text from Sugar Daddy from the amazing movie Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Basic premise lifted from an AIM conversation with kittygrenade as were 99.99% of my PxP prompts. This, like most of my recent fic, is for her, the girl who was a friend, a muse and a real life angel until she joined them herself. I hope in heaven, LJ's servers never go down. I miss you. Thank you. For everything.
fanmix by megyal
Patrick sighed and tossed his hat on the nearby table. "Another day, another shitty date," he muttered, setting his keys in the doofy looking Yellow M&M dish Joe had left there as a joke during his apartment warming party. Speaking of Joe... "JOSEPH MARK TROHMAN YOU HAD BETTER NOT BE INVADING MY FRIDGE AGAIN!" He bellowed, stomping into the kitchen and catching his shaggy haired friend chomping down on a peanut butter and cheese puff sandwich.
"Uht? 'Oo 'av da beft food."
"Joe. Swallow."
"That's what he said." Joe grinned and waved his sandwich at Patrick. "Anyway I was just saying that you have the best food. Of course I'll raid your fridge when I got the munchies."
"Joe," Patrick said as patiently as he could considering there was a Joe-shaped vacuum cleaner in his kitchen, "I have the best food because I like to eat good food. I enjoy the taste of things. When you storm in and eat it all, I have no food. When I have no food, I get grumpy because it means I have to go out and buy more and I didn't even enjoy it. Get it?"
"Sort of. Hey, how did that big date go? What was his name? Grant? Gary? Gabe?"
"Uh, his name is Gerard. And it was just great. Except that he smoked, had tiny teeth, shut up Joe you know how I am about teeth, and kept insisting he do an 'artistic nude' of me back at his apartment." Patrick shuddered at the memory of the way Gerard's eyes had lit up at the prospect of seeing him naked. "And it didn't help he conveniently left his wallet at home."
Joe stuck his head in the fridge to hide his amusement. "Don't they always do that?"
"Nine times of ten, I'd say." Patrick sighed. "You know just for once I'd like to date someone who knew what 'picking up the check' meant. Maybe get a little spoiled, you know?"
Joe lifted his head and leaned on the open door, a glass bottle of Coke in his hand. "You know what you need, man? A sugar daddy."
"Right. An 85 year old, Viagra popping creep who wants to buy me ladies' underpants."
"And anything else you'd want. Think about it Patrick: these guys are old and looking for a cutie to spoil while they still can, and you're about as cute as they come." Joe pointed at Patrick with the bottle. "You could have a new one every week."
"Okay, smartass, how would I find them? Craigslist?" Patrick took the bottle and took a long drink. "That's how I met Brendon, remember? The one who wanted me to join his polyamorous love bus?"
"Not Craigslist, you dick. There's a site just for sugar daddies looking for their babes. Hm... It was like BringSugarHome.com or something like that I think. Come on, what could it hurt?"
"'What could it hurt?' Joe, I'm ninety percent sure there's an after school special that starts that way." Patrick muttered and drank the rest of the Coke, frowning as he licked the last drop off his lips. "Get lost. Let me take a shower and get this date off my skin. And you know, go see my therapist."
"Well, tell Hurley I say hi then."
"Will do. Leave the sandwich here, you pig."
"I'm Jewish. I don't touch pigs, man. So offensive." Joe scoffed, stuffing the rest of the sandwich in his mouth.
Patrick rolled his eyes and pointed at the door. "Get lost Troh."
Patrick took a long, slow shower and went to his favorite neighbor's apartment. The crazy Vegan in 5A was seemingly always home, and to be honest, Patrick had no clue what his profession actually was. His tree tall friend from 6B, the weird shaggy blonde man from 4C, the short, squirrelly dude from 5D and the occasional Canadian (Andy swore he didn't live in the complex. His name was on the mailbox to apartment 6C, but Andy ignored that fact) were always running in and out of Andy's apartment, so Patrick was just as clueless about their work. Actually, no. He knew that two worked at a bar, but which one and when he couldn't tell. For all he knew they all just lived at Andy's place and had their own apartments for appearances.
Before Patrick raised his hand to knock, Kyle and Stuart came tumbling out the door in a rush. Kyle had his hands on a box of DVDs and Stuart stared at them like they'd be the answer to all pain and suffering in the world. "Mad Men marathon! You in Patrick?" Kyle asked, his eyes wide and happy. He held up the box and smiled indulgently at Stu, who held up a bag of candy and popcorn, giving Kyle a matching grin.
"Maybe in a bit. Gotta see Hurley about something." Patrick smiled at the two as they shrugged and headed off to Kyle's apartment. "They're totally fucking." Patrick thought, entering Andy's apartment and finding the Vegan sitting on the counter with Mixon making a mess in his juice blender. "What the fuck are you making, Mix?"
"Carrot juice, son. Recognize." Mixon replied cheerily, slapping a glass with the bright orange juice in front of Patrick. Patrick eyed it for a moment, his eyebrows rising into his hat as he saw the orange mustache layered over Andy's usual russet lip hair. "Andy loves it." Mix added, nudging the glass toward Patrick. Andy drained his glass and smiled at Mixon, pressing a kiss to his cheek and grabbing Patrick by the hand as he was about to take a sip of the juice. Patrick frowned and set the glass down, following Andy into his room.
"What's going on, Patrick?" He asked, eyeing Patrick as he shifted nervously by the door.
"Why would anything be going on? Can't I come say hi?"
"You can," Andy replied smoothly, settling onto his oversized and rather fluffy bed, and patting the spot next to him, "but you usually don't. So what's up?" He repeated, proceeding to push Patrick around and pounce on his back, kneading it like an over large, over enthusiastic cat.
"Mmmph, Andy, you're my hero." Patrick mumbled as Andy's manhandling massage began. "It's these guys I date, man. They're all capital 'L' Losers and I can't seem to get away. I mean today's dude made me pay for a godawful lunch he ruined by smoking at the table!"
"So you want me to hook you up with Morgan? Cause I'd offer the others but Matt's mine and Stu and Kage are totally fucking."
"I thought so, but I wasn't sure. And no. Ryan runs around in silk robes and quotes 'Silence of the Lambs' at wholly inappropriate times." Patrick sighed and turned his head to look at Andy. "I was thinking of maybe looking for a sugar daddy. You know, someone who'll spoil me a little."
"And where would you find one?" Andy asked, peering seriously over his glasses.
"A website..." Patrick mumbled, blushing hotly as Andy's eyes narrowed. "Totally safe from creepers, man." He added hastily though he wasn't completely sure it was.
"Right. Well. I'll have to look over your profile, of course. And I'll have to screen your dates. If you're loser bait as you say you are, I'll be quite busy. No one over 45, Canadian, earning less than $35 million annually or involved in any form of adult entertainment is good enough for my Patrick."
"What about women?"
"Why would a woman be hunting for a babe on a sugar daddy site? Think about it a minute Patrick, she'd be looking for one. Otherwise, she'd be a cougar."
"Right. Sorry." Patrick blushed and smiled at Andy. "So... Wanna help me write my profile?"
"I thought you'd never ask. MIXON! Bring my computer! And my camera!" Andy hollered. There was the distinct noise of the tall man grumbling and mumbling, but before Andy lost his patience, Mix came ambling through the door.
"He said yes to the three way?" He asked with a note of decided wonder in his voice as he handed over the camera and laptop.
Andy silenced him with a look and grinned at Patrick. "No. Not yet. What do you say, Patrick? Mix is alarmingly gentle."
"And I'm pretty good with my hands." He added helpfully.
"He is." Andy agreed and turned the computer on. "Which site are we doing then?" He asked while Patrick sat spluttering over the possibility of sleeping with both the unfairly toned and colorful Andy and the ridiculously tall and strong Matt.
"I guess we can search for one. But just one site, okay? I don't want to look like a sugar daddy groupie."
Andy began typing rapidly, his eyes lighting up as he found a site he approved of. "Sugar Daddy For Me dot com!" Andy declared, looking over a few names. "Ooh. That one's kinda cute. He's not as cute as you though Matty. And he's 45, so... Yeah, not gonna happen. Okay Patrick, let's get the personals out of the way. Patrick Martin Stump, age 21, hair... Red? What do you think Mix? Red? No, I will not check his pubes. He's an innocent virgin, Matthew Mixon. 'Strawberry blonde.' Sounds a lot cuter. Besides, redheads are trouble and gingers are a plague. Remember that weird Travis kid from 2B? Troublesome plague."
"My middle name was changed to 'Vaughn', Hurley. And I'm not a v-"
Andy interrupted with a loud "Na-na-na-na! I can't hear you! Na-na-na-na!"
Matt placed one big hand on Patrick's shoulder. "He's serious about your virginity, bro. As far as he's concerned you'll stay a virgin til you die, or he deflowers you. Hurley has Images, and yours is the Sweet Virgin."
"But... Fine, Hurley! I'm a 21 year old virgin. Don't drink. Vegetarian. Put in that I like music a lot."
"Sweet... Virgin... Edge? Edge. Let's see... Sings... Plays... Everything... Now. We need a profile picture for you, dude. Mixon! Come cuddle Patrick. Make him irresistible to other dudes by showing how cute and tiny he is next to your tall ass."
"I'm not TINY!" Patrick yelled, his face pink and getting pinker with the flash of Andy's camera. "I will kill you, Hurley. You're like two inches taller than me!" He muttered darkly, stomping to the bed and letting Mixon cuddle up to him, kissing his throat and making Patrick shiver.
"Those two count for a lot, Little One. That's good. Get him all flustered." Andy encouraged, watching as Matt pulled Patrick into his lap and kissed behind his ear, making Patrick moan softly. He was so into the movement of Matt's lips, so eager to taste them, he didn't even notice Andy's camera clicking away, catching him at his most open and sultry, making out with the darker man and letting his soft hands wander. Andy set the camera down after a few minutes and nodded at Matt, who pushed Patrick onto his back and slithered out of the shot, leaving Patrick with a blissful expression in every photo Andy took after that.
*****
"Look, Gabe. This one's perfect. 21, doesn't drink, plays music, and he's blonde."
"Is he a virgin? I know your thing for virgins, Pete." The voice from a plush but hideous purple velvet chair came up slinking like its owner walked.
"He is... Not, actually. Hm. He's got to be lying about that part. I mean just look. He looks like an angel. He's got a little ball cap on and is playing a guitar... Look at his eyes. And his smile! This one, Gabe. He's my keeper."
"So email the dude. If you're that interested, start moving." Gabe replied lazily, flopping his hand around. "Or some 85 year old, Viagra popping nutcase is going to snatch his sweet little ass up."
"I'm bad at this. I don't wanna come on too strong."
"Pete, face it. You're GOING to come on too strong. That's who you are. Just write. Don't use phrases like 'the ribbon on my wrist says do not open before Christmas.' That's even creepy to the creepmaster himself."
"Shut it Saporta. Eventually, you'll learn to stop making me feel bad about my gift for unpleasant imagery. I'm gonna write one out and see how he reacts." Pete looked at Gabe then at the door. "You can totally go now. And leave my secretary alone. Bill stuttered every sentence for a week last time you hit on him."
"He loves me. He just needs to stop worrying about his virtue. I'll treat him like a lady." Gabe gave Pete a lewd wink and slunk out the door, perching on Bill's desk like a cat waiting for a canary. Pete heard William's surprised squeak and a stuttered "G-g-gabe," before the door closed and he was left alone with his computer.
Pete bit his lip softly and grabbed a notebook, twirling a blue ballpoint pen between his fingers to begin writing. He smiled as he wrote, his thoughts flowing freely as he printed the picture of Patrick looking back over his bare shoulder in someone's room, the cool light of the moon falling around his golden hair and lighting up his bright eyes, his cheeks a gentle pink and his smile wide and sweet.
"When the moonlight hits your bright eyes I go blind..."
*****
"Patrick!" Andy called, walking into Patrick's apartment, his laptop under his arm. As part of their agreement, made after Patrick was pleasantly sated and curled into Mixon's arms, Patrick would have no access to his own profile without Andy. Andy would answer emails, approve requests and if it got to that point, screen dates. "I've got one. 25. Runs a record company and clothing line, writes in awkward prose and has a fascination with 80s movies."
He pulled up a page, hideous looking clothing designs and half face pictures showing off one bright honey speckled brown eye and a whole lot of liner scattered in the clips and phrases about the man on the page. His basic stats were easy to see along with the fact that he'd emailed Patrick more than a few times within hours of each other. Andy pressed close to Patrick and handed him the laptop, letting him read through every email "UnlovablePete" sent him. By the third one, Patrick was already distractedly tapping his fingers on the couch, smiling as he read. "You gotta print these, Andy. It's amazing. I can hear myself writing music to this. I mean some of it is shit, but some is amazing and I can hear it."
"Should I accept his offer of a date then?" Andy asked, smiling when Patrick turned pink and nodded, trying not to look too eager. Andy took the laptop back and began typing, giving Pete directions to the shop around the corner from their complex. Andy made it very clear that Peter was to be meeting him, not Patrick for the first interaction, and that he was to meet Patrick only if he passed Andy's inspection.
Pete replied immediately and agreed, telling Andy he'd be there with bells on. No seriously. Freaking bells, man. Andy showed Patrick the email and laughed.
"Hey, Hurley. Can I go with you? I mean I'll hide in a corner and wear a cap and everything. He won't see me. I just want to know what he looks like." Patrick asked softly, turning his eyes to their most pleading look and Andy almost instantly relented. To be honest, Patrick wanted to see if the man matched his words at all or if he had someone write them for him. His looks, from the half face shots and the frames of tone body made Patrick hope he wasn't pretty but vapid, all looks and no brains. With his luck, Patrick would get the pretty rich boy who hired people to think for him. Patrick hoped like hell his luck was changing.
*****
Pete showed up to the coffee shop early, however, not earlier than Andy and Patrick. Patrick was wearing one of Mixon's hoodies and Kyle's ball caps, tucked into a corner where he could watch Andy meet Pete. Every tanned boy that walked in raised Patrick's interest until finally one breezed in and sat across from Andy, a big smile on his face.
"Suck a nut, Wentz. He's not going to see you of all people."
"Professor Hurley. Nice to see you again. I didn't know you were in the virtue protecting business." Pete said with a cat like grin that was equal parts charming and creepy.
Patrick couldn't hide his surprise at finding out Andy's job. "Professor? That's what you do, Andy?!" He yelped, eyes wide when he realized he'd blown his cover.
"Yes. I'm a professor of anthropology at DePaul. That's beside the point, so sit down Patrick. Pete, be gone. You're not allowed to date him."
"Why not? You seemed really keen on it when you didn't know I was, Professor. What's changed between then and now?" Pete teased, and yeah. One smile his way, and there was Patrick caught like a fly in Pete's stupidly charming web.
"The fact that I know who you are now. This -Peter, I'm right here. Stop looking at Patrick- isn't going to work at all. He's too sweet to have any of your nonsense or copious amounts of baggage attached to him. Patrick, this one's bad news. I should have known better than to put into action any idea Trohman had. The kid's so sly he's almost Canadian."
Andy waved a dismissive hand at Pete, and when the other made no move to leave, just leaned forward and adjusted Kyle's hat to look at Patrick's eyes and whisper "I'll find you," Andy picked up his phone and sent a message that had his lumbering other half wandering into the shop and collecting Patrick in no time.
Once Patrick had been carried away, Pete turned to Andy. "Look, Hurley. Just cause I'm kind of a dick doesn't mean I'll be that way to him. Have you seen him? He's pretty much perfect. I'm not gonna steal him away and run to Montreal to get married or something. I just want to hold his hand. Come on, Hurley. Let me take him to a movie or something. Let him decide if he wants me."
Andy's eyes narrowed at the city choice and he shook his head. "You're not getting near him, Peter. Especially not to steal him away to Montreal to ruin his life with marriage and Canadians. Don't even get me started on Quebec." Andy complained, his jaw set stubbornly. "Yes, Patrick's as close to an angel as I'll believe in, yes he read your words and began writing music for them. Yes he's a good boy with a good heart and a killer voice that springs from a perfect mouth. That's exactly why you're not good enough for him. Come on Pete. You dropped out halfway through your senior year to start a band with Saporta. What became of that?"
"I quit that to start Clandestine. Wait, he wrote music to my words?"
"And what happens when Patrick isn't the shiny new toy anymore, Pete?" Andy asked, his voice straining to keep calm as he ignored Pete's question.
"I... Andy, dude, he's not going to go out of style, or make me bored like some of-"
"Some what, Pete? Some of the other things you've been passionate about at first?" Andy's hands hit the table and he bared his teeth at Pete for a second, making the other man jump. "He isn't something you can get tired of, Pete! You don't have to see him after shitty dates, watch guy after guy just not appreciate him! When I agreed to help him with this, I promised him I wouldn't let a guy like you come in, charm him and break his heart. If he was that hurt after a bad date, I don't want to see the look on his face after he's already fallen for you and you leave him for next year's model."
"Fuck, Andy. What kind of asshole do you think I am?" Pete took one look at the Vegan and bit his lip. "Point taken. I won't hurt him because I'm tired of him. Because I'm selfish, stupid and scared, yeah, but not because I don't want him. He'd have to have... Like... Perpetual halitosis or hate my dog or something, okay?"
"I don't believe you, Pete. I won't have him hurt." Andy stood up and turned to leave. "Don't email him. Don't try to find anything else out about him. You've seen his face and that's enough to have to undo."
"You can't tell him who to be attracted to, Hurley." Pete growled, angry that Andy had such control over Patrick's dating. "I saw him. I saw the look on his face when our eyes met. We're meant to be, and you can't stop that."
"I can, and I will. Pete, let me ask you something." Andy turned around and peered at the other man's face, for once seeing a touch of hurt in his normally slightly mocking eyes. "If you dated him, and he fell for you to the point that he said 'okay, here's me turning 60, and Pete's there. Here's us having the grandkids over for dinner, and Pete's there,' do you see yourself holding his hand when he isn't some pretty young thing anymore? Laying next to him when he's tired or sick or angry at you? Or do you see yourself running away when he isn't the boy you lusted after on the website? Don't. Don't answer me now. You think about that before you decide whether or not you want to ruin this boy's life."
Pete watched Andy leave and frowned at his back. "Why do I always have to ruin people's lives? Why can't I just love someone?"
*****
"He was gorgeous, Mix. Toned, tanned, dark hair and the most beautiful eyes..." Patrick snuggled closer and looked up at Andy's boyfriend. "I wanted to kiss him right there before he got a good look and decided he didn't want me. Matt, why does Andy hate him so much?"
"Firstly, Patrick, you can't tell me that he wouldn't think you're gorgeous too. Do you remember the night we got you to do this? How Andy and I touched you, kissed you, held you? You're beautiful. Wentz would be crazy to not want you." Matt kissed his forehead. "Pete's just bad news. He's never followed through on anything he's started with this much enthusiasm. He was a semester away from graduating, with honors, I might add. Dropped out to start a band with Saporta when Gabe decided he didn't feel like doing the school thing anymore."
"What happened?" Patrick asked, smiling when Matt leaned down to nuzzle his ear gently.
"They were both bass players so the band fell apart. Especially after Gabe realized that winning the bass coin toss meant Pete was the singer." Matt laughed and held Patrick close. "He tried to run a blood drive, study group, soup kitchen and adoption fair for stray cats and dogs. Started off all gung ho on all of them and then fizzled out. Andy doesn't hate him. He hates the lack of dedication to what he does. And maybe the fact that Pete never let him forget that he's a week older than Pete."
"How is Andy a professor so young?" Patrick asked, letting Matt move him around so he was the little spoon.
"Hard work. Brilliance. Andy's a certified genius. He finished college before most kids start high school, and he went to teach at DePaul when he was able to. Andy is just... He's a crazy genius, minus a little crazy. Just a little crazy, you know, with the Canadian thing."
"Why does he hate Canadians?"
"Hate isn't the right word. He doesn't trust them, that's all. Stu had to say he was from Montana, and when Andy found out he wasn't, it just cemented his distrust for Canadians." Matt shrugged and closed his eyes. "But that's a story for another time."
Andy came in and made a general noise of annoyance. "Matt. Matthew. Mixon! Wake up. Move to the bedroom. Patrick, you come too. I want to talk to both of you." He stomped away, his bare feet purposely loud on the hardwood floor.
Matt shrugged and sat up, bringing Patrick with him and depositing him on the bed. Andy immediately grabbed him and laid with his head on the boy's chest as Matt replaced himself behind Patrick.
"Andy? What happened?" Patrick asked softly, stroking into his thick hair like Matt showed him Andy liked. Andy sighed.
"Would you hate me if I kept him away from you forever, Patrick?" Andy asked quietly, the tension in his body melting away with every stroke into his hair. "Because I know him. Would you hate me for not letting him hurt you, but also, not letting him love you as long as it lasts?"
"I trust you, Andy. You know I do. He's beautiful but he wouldn't want me. Not for long, and once a man like that loves me, I don't think I'll be able to handle how it ends." Patrick said softly, his voice cracking a little and his hand slowing to a stop. Andy lifted his head and pressed a firm kiss to Patrick's lips.
"You're perfect. He'd want you, because he has no reason not to. What I'm afraid of is what he'd do if he gets tired of the relationship. He had a different girl on his arm every week in school. I used to see him and hate that he just left them when he was tired of them." Andy reached for Matt's hand and held it over Patrick's hip. "Stay with us tonight. Stay close to us and let us just keep you tonight. We'll talk about this tomorrow."
Patrick nodded and turned to kiss Matt softly, then turned to kiss Andy with the same heartbroken need. Andy looked over his shoulder at Matt's face and gave him a look that said "I just may have fucked this up."
*****
Patrick went to work the next day, a little more quiet than usual. He strapped on his blue apron and set to work at the coffee shop around the corner from his apartment, serving Greta her chamomile tea and Victoria her double shot of espresso with two sugars. He made Bob his vanilla latte and Kyle his black coffee, Stu's half decaf, but he didn't have his usual smile on his lips. The three high school boys collectively known as the Alexes bounded in after lunch and called him out on it and Patrick finally laughed, asking if they were ditching Mr. Iero's class again or if he "let them leave," like they said he usually did.
"He actually really let us leave today." The curly haired Alex piped up. "Had some dude drawing a picture of him in class. The dude was totally weird. Tiny teeth." He nodded.
The other two began jabbering at each other and before long Patrick set their hot chocolates in front of them and shooed them off to their favorite table where they sat and played cover songs the rest of the afternoon, eventually prodding Patrick into joining them for a cover of Killing Me Softly. Halfway through the song, a man who was all legs walked in, sat at a table and watched the boys playing, his phone on the table. After Patrick left them and went back to the counter, the man moved. "H-hi. M-my name is William. I was h-hoping you were h-hiring." He smiled charmingly and Patrick offered a bright smile in return.
"Well, I'll have to check with Suarez and Ryland. This is their place, but I'm sure it'll be fine. Let me have your number, so I can tell you when to come in."
William rattled off his number and thanked Patrick. He watched William leave and shook his head, turning back to the boys. "Hey. Any of you guys know The Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes?"
*****
"You got the job. And from Patrick!" Pete smiled at William and did a goofy little dance in his seat. "I just wanted you to be there in case he came in with Andy but he WORKS there! Bill that's amazing! You get to befriend him and tell me everything about him. This is amazing. And his voice. God, his voice must have been beautiful in person. It was perfect on the phone..."
"Um, Pete. As happy as I am you're happy, and I am, really, won't he hate BOTH of us once he finds out I have a really good job as your secretary?"
"You're right. Bill, you can't mention it until he's in love. Actually, make that until we're engaged. Married even. I don't wanna lose him over something like me not telling him you work for me."
"You're psychotic, you know that, right?" Bill asked, frowning. "He's gonna see through this. He doesn't seem dumb, Pete. Actually he seems like he'd be sort of violent when he gets tricked."
"Look. I just need to know about him. Andy deactivated his profile and hasn't set up an alternate account. I'm sure he's told Patrick about Gabe, so he's out as my spy. I need you, Bill. Please."
"Fine. But you owe me for this, Pete. Seriously owe me."
*****
"Hey. Hi. Hi, guys, down here. I have a favor to ask of you boys."
"Sorry dude. We're not for sale. Tried it once and Johnson cried for a week whenever anyone mentioned money or our buddy Cash came around."
"Fuck off Marshall. You tried to sell me to that crazy dude who lives in a Winnebago with three other dudes, three dogs and a cat."
"Brendon!" Pete supplied cheerfully.
"Uhm... We'll actually be going now," mumbled the tallest of the slim boys as he adjusted his ugly hat. "We have homework to do at the cafe."
"That's just the place I need you! See, I need you guys to pry a little. See if the barista named Patrick's dating anyone, and if it's serious. Just ask casually. If he gets too annoyed, drop it, but tell me what you learn."
"Why should we help you, dude? Patrick's our friend. And besides you're kinda creepy. No offense."
"None taken!" Pete replied, smiling at the boys. "Seriously, he was a missed connection. A love match gone awry if you will. Point is, we're meant to be and he has this little tattooed bodyguard who's got a giant man boy bodyguard."
"Andy and Matt!" Marshall smiled at the mention of the two older men.
"Wait, didn't Andy warn us about this guy?" Johnson asked. "Singer, he warned us about a little creepy dude trying to find Patrick. We should run. Like now."
Before Pete could tell them Andy was a stuffy old fart, they did.
*****
William wasn't telling him anything. Bill became good friends with Patrick and let slip that he was Pete's secretary after a few drinks one night, and mentioned to him that Pete was pretty wrecked that everyone was dead set against him and Patrick being together.
"I -hic- I feel bad for him, yanno?" William murmured. "I mean I'm dating one of his best friends now, and it's a pain in the ass, but I'm kinda falling in love with the idiot. Gabe asked me out by stealing all my markers and using them to spell out my first name and his last name letter by letter on individual post-it notes like we were married."
"That sounds oddly sweet." Patrick replied, smiling sadly. "Is... Does Pete do things like that? Stupid little things to melt a boy's heart?"
"Pete. He's a sweet guy. A little crazy, but sweet. He's been pining away over there, afraid to go to the shop in case Andy's there. He likes you, or the idea of you. Who knows until you guys meet, yanno? All I know is he's heartbroken when I tell him you haven't said anything about your interests." Bill reached for the bottle and smiled. "But let me tell you. He works over by the Chicago Diner. Most days in it. He spins at the Clandestine flagship store every Thursday between 5 and 8. You should go."
"Spins?"
"Pete fancies himself a DJ." Bill shrugged. "But I didn't tell you that."
"Thursdays... Thanks Bill."
"No problem. Hey, can I do your hair? You'd look cute with little punk spikes."
*****
"Listen Pete. You have to go today. You haven't played since the day Andy locked down Patrick's profile." Gabe drawled, slinking out of his chair. "Not that you're great shakes as a DJ but you like it."
"I don't really care about it, Gabe. I just want to see him, you know? Talk to him and maybe ask if I can hold his hand when I walk him home." He shot Gabe a look, fully expecting him to be mocking the love sick puppy theme Pete seemed to have going. He was surprised to see Gabe with an understanding smile. "Is that weird? I don't want to fuck him, except I really really do, I just wanna hold him close and kiss him and maybe get old and have kids and a dog and fights about whether we should have gotten the heated hardwood floors or not."
Gabe laughed a little and nodded. "I get that. Tell you what, Pete. Go home. Shower. Change. Meet me back here and I'll take you the only place you wanna be."
"To Patrick?!"
"Not quite. We're going to the Clan store. You may have a better time than you imagined."
"But I don't wanna go there!" Pete pouted.
"Trust me, okay? You're gonna have a little fun for a change. If you're not here, I'm going to your place to get you." Gabe said firmly, planting a sloppy kiss on Pete's cheek. "Dress nice. Don't wear your designs." He grinned and left the office with Pete pouting and glaring after him.
*****
Patrick walked into the store a little before five, his slim fitting blue jeans hugging his thighs and the black and white striped shirt he wore clung to his hips. Patrick's high top Supras were brand new, and a red, white and black shiny pair he'd picked out especially because Pete liked them. He adjusted his hat and ducked in, innocently shopping the racks until he heard a slightly accented, very smooth voice announcing the DJ. Bill was soon wrapped up in the announcer's arms, smiling and whispering to him, nodding over at Patrick and waving as Pete began his set with Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now and bled it into Unlovable. Patrick smiled and selected a black and purple shirt, watching Pete play somewhat listlessly.
Pete was even more beautiful than he had been at the cafe, all caramel skin and sad eyes. He had a little too much eyeliner on and his hair was a mess, his shirt too short and pants too tight, but Patrick knew right then and there he liked this guy. No one could write like he did and be all bad. And besides, Patrick figured he had to be great in bed. There was no way a man with a body like his, those slippery black lines over his stomach and hips wouldn't be.
Patrick stood off to the side of the makeshift stage, shirt in hand and yelled "Hey, got any Prince!?" at Pete halfway through Boys Don't Cry. Pete shook his head and glared at the crowd. "No requests, douchebag." He growled, turning back to his MacBook to bring up the next song. Gabe smacked him across the head and pointed at Patrick, laughing and shaking his head.
"Fine then. Know where I can try this on?" He asked coyly, batting his lashes a little, and laughing at how ridiculous he felt. Pete's jaw dropped and he stared at Patrick, swinging the shirt off his finger. "No? Well then I guess I'd better go somewhere else..."
Patrick turned and sashayed away, weaving through the crowd to the dressing room. Pete yelled and tried to follow, tangling himself in the cords and cables of his laptop and speakers. He almost fell over a few times trying to get out and ran after him, dragging Patrick by the arm to a fitting room. "Try it on in here." Pete said breathlessly, pushing him into a room as gently as he could, considering every neuron in his brain was screaming "PATRICK!!!"
Pete followed and locked the door after him, closing his eyes. "Patrick. Please tell me you're really here and not some Andy-conjured hallucination. Worse, don't tell me he's figured out cloning and sent some fake Patrick so I'd leave the real you alone."
Patrick laughed, the warm sound wrapping around Pete and pulling him in. "It's really me. I heard you came to play here sometimes, and I wanted to see what your music tastes were like. If we're going to do this dating thing, you have to love punk and soul, r&b and rock. And you have to have Prince."
Pete wrapped an arm around his waist and smiled. "Prince I have. And a prince in my arms too. Can I, uh, can I kiss you?"
"Just once. I don't usually kiss on a first date, but for you I'll bend my rules. After this, you're treating me like a gentleman, Pete Wentz." Patrick teased, kissing Pete long and slow, his mouth moving gently against the other's like they had all the time in the world. He finally pulled away and smiled shyly. "Hurley's gonna kill both of us."
"Totally worth it." Pete replied, leaning in for another soft kiss.
*****
"So you mean to tell me you're okay with this?" Pete asked Andy, his head in Patrick's lap and the younger man twirling strands of his dirty hair around his fingers.
"Can't say I'm not. You two seem happy together."
"Mostly happy. I saw Patrick throw a pepper mill at Pete's head at the barbecue last weekend." Mix added helpfully from underneath Andy.
"Mostly happy," Andy amended, nuzzling Matt's nose. "But what I don't get is how you found each other after I'd set up so many blocks. I mean I took down all traces of a profile and the Alexes ratted you out, Pete."
Pete barked out a laugh and shrugged. "I'm not the only one who's sneaky and a little creepy. It's how I knew he was the one."
"You're such a loser, Pete."
"You love me, shut up." Pete replied with a grin that showed all his perfectly white, maybe a little too big teeth.
"You know what? Maybe I do." Patrick grinned back and pulled him down for a quick kiss.
"Aww. Our little boy's all grown up, Matty."
"Shhhh. This has the potential to get good."
*****
Patrick and Pete loved each other a good many years. They stayed together even when they really wished they hadn't, and fought over things like the drapes and the hardwood floors in their home. They had eventually married (although Pete sent Andy an invitation that said their vows would take place in Alberta that sent the Vegan into an uproar no matter how many times they said they were joking) and raised their three sons and one daughter with all the love they could, teaching them to be kind and loving, and always to have a lot of food on hand when the Trohmans came over. Patrick never paid for dinner again, and Pete never had to write songs all by himself ever again. The couple spent enough time together to know each other inside and out, and enough time apart to miss each other madly.
Patrick almost always fell asleep before Pete, and sometimes Pete would lean in and whisper words he wrote somewhere along the line. Most nights, though, he'd press a soft kiss to his love's temple and murmur "What a catch..."
Rating/Warnings: R. Implied sex, swearing, Gabe Saporta.
Pairing: Pete/Patrick (background Matt/Andy, Gabe/William, Kyle/Stu, implied Matt/Andy/Patrick)
Word Count: 7022
Summary: Patrick is tired of dating losers. When he gets talked into joining a website of sugar daddies looking for lovers to spoil, he has no intention of doing more than finding a little fun. Pete, of course, has other plans.
Author's Notes: Title and cut text from Sugar Daddy from the amazing movie Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Basic premise lifted from an AIM conversation with kittygrenade as were 99.99% of my PxP prompts. This, like most of my recent fic, is for her, the girl who was a friend, a muse and a real life angel until she joined them herself. I hope in heaven, LJ's servers never go down. I miss you. Thank you. For everything.
fanmix by megyal
Patrick sighed and tossed his hat on the nearby table. "Another day, another shitty date," he muttered, setting his keys in the doofy looking Yellow M&M dish Joe had left there as a joke during his apartment warming party. Speaking of Joe... "JOSEPH MARK TROHMAN YOU HAD BETTER NOT BE INVADING MY FRIDGE AGAIN!" He bellowed, stomping into the kitchen and catching his shaggy haired friend chomping down on a peanut butter and cheese puff sandwich.
"Uht? 'Oo 'av da beft food."
"Joe. Swallow."
"That's what he said." Joe grinned and waved his sandwich at Patrick. "Anyway I was just saying that you have the best food. Of course I'll raid your fridge when I got the munchies."
"Joe," Patrick said as patiently as he could considering there was a Joe-shaped vacuum cleaner in his kitchen, "I have the best food because I like to eat good food. I enjoy the taste of things. When you storm in and eat it all, I have no food. When I have no food, I get grumpy because it means I have to go out and buy more and I didn't even enjoy it. Get it?"
"Sort of. Hey, how did that big date go? What was his name? Grant? Gary? Gabe?"
"Uh, his name is Gerard. And it was just great. Except that he smoked, had tiny teeth, shut up Joe you know how I am about teeth, and kept insisting he do an 'artistic nude' of me back at his apartment." Patrick shuddered at the memory of the way Gerard's eyes had lit up at the prospect of seeing him naked. "And it didn't help he conveniently left his wallet at home."
Joe stuck his head in the fridge to hide his amusement. "Don't they always do that?"
"Nine times of ten, I'd say." Patrick sighed. "You know just for once I'd like to date someone who knew what 'picking up the check' meant. Maybe get a little spoiled, you know?"
Joe lifted his head and leaned on the open door, a glass bottle of Coke in his hand. "You know what you need, man? A sugar daddy."
"Right. An 85 year old, Viagra popping creep who wants to buy me ladies' underpants."
"And anything else you'd want. Think about it Patrick: these guys are old and looking for a cutie to spoil while they still can, and you're about as cute as they come." Joe pointed at Patrick with the bottle. "You could have a new one every week."
"Okay, smartass, how would I find them? Craigslist?" Patrick took the bottle and took a long drink. "That's how I met Brendon, remember? The one who wanted me to join his polyamorous love bus?"
"Not Craigslist, you dick. There's a site just for sugar daddies looking for their babes. Hm... It was like BringSugarHome.com or something like that I think. Come on, what could it hurt?"
"'What could it hurt?' Joe, I'm ninety percent sure there's an after school special that starts that way." Patrick muttered and drank the rest of the Coke, frowning as he licked the last drop off his lips. "Get lost. Let me take a shower and get this date off my skin. And you know, go see my therapist."
"Well, tell Hurley I say hi then."
"Will do. Leave the sandwich here, you pig."
"I'm Jewish. I don't touch pigs, man. So offensive." Joe scoffed, stuffing the rest of the sandwich in his mouth.
Patrick rolled his eyes and pointed at the door. "Get lost Troh."
Patrick took a long, slow shower and went to his favorite neighbor's apartment. The crazy Vegan in 5A was seemingly always home, and to be honest, Patrick had no clue what his profession actually was. His tree tall friend from 6B, the weird shaggy blonde man from 4C, the short, squirrelly dude from 5D and the occasional Canadian (Andy swore he didn't live in the complex. His name was on the mailbox to apartment 6C, but Andy ignored that fact) were always running in and out of Andy's apartment, so Patrick was just as clueless about their work. Actually, no. He knew that two worked at a bar, but which one and when he couldn't tell. For all he knew they all just lived at Andy's place and had their own apartments for appearances.
Before Patrick raised his hand to knock, Kyle and Stuart came tumbling out the door in a rush. Kyle had his hands on a box of DVDs and Stuart stared at them like they'd be the answer to all pain and suffering in the world. "Mad Men marathon! You in Patrick?" Kyle asked, his eyes wide and happy. He held up the box and smiled indulgently at Stu, who held up a bag of candy and popcorn, giving Kyle a matching grin.
"Maybe in a bit. Gotta see Hurley about something." Patrick smiled at the two as they shrugged and headed off to Kyle's apartment. "They're totally fucking." Patrick thought, entering Andy's apartment and finding the Vegan sitting on the counter with Mixon making a mess in his juice blender. "What the fuck are you making, Mix?"
"Carrot juice, son. Recognize." Mixon replied cheerily, slapping a glass with the bright orange juice in front of Patrick. Patrick eyed it for a moment, his eyebrows rising into his hat as he saw the orange mustache layered over Andy's usual russet lip hair. "Andy loves it." Mix added, nudging the glass toward Patrick. Andy drained his glass and smiled at Mixon, pressing a kiss to his cheek and grabbing Patrick by the hand as he was about to take a sip of the juice. Patrick frowned and set the glass down, following Andy into his room.
"What's going on, Patrick?" He asked, eyeing Patrick as he shifted nervously by the door.
"Why would anything be going on? Can't I come say hi?"
"You can," Andy replied smoothly, settling onto his oversized and rather fluffy bed, and patting the spot next to him, "but you usually don't. So what's up?" He repeated, proceeding to push Patrick around and pounce on his back, kneading it like an over large, over enthusiastic cat.
"Mmmph, Andy, you're my hero." Patrick mumbled as Andy's manhandling massage began. "It's these guys I date, man. They're all capital 'L' Losers and I can't seem to get away. I mean today's dude made me pay for a godawful lunch he ruined by smoking at the table!"
"So you want me to hook you up with Morgan? Cause I'd offer the others but Matt's mine and Stu and Kage are totally fucking."
"I thought so, but I wasn't sure. And no. Ryan runs around in silk robes and quotes 'Silence of the Lambs' at wholly inappropriate times." Patrick sighed and turned his head to look at Andy. "I was thinking of maybe looking for a sugar daddy. You know, someone who'll spoil me a little."
"And where would you find one?" Andy asked, peering seriously over his glasses.
"A website..." Patrick mumbled, blushing hotly as Andy's eyes narrowed. "Totally safe from creepers, man." He added hastily though he wasn't completely sure it was.
"Right. Well. I'll have to look over your profile, of course. And I'll have to screen your dates. If you're loser bait as you say you are, I'll be quite busy. No one over 45, Canadian, earning less than $35 million annually or involved in any form of adult entertainment is good enough for my Patrick."
"What about women?"
"Why would a woman be hunting for a babe on a sugar daddy site? Think about it a minute Patrick, she'd be looking for one. Otherwise, she'd be a cougar."
"Right. Sorry." Patrick blushed and smiled at Andy. "So... Wanna help me write my profile?"
"I thought you'd never ask. MIXON! Bring my computer! And my camera!" Andy hollered. There was the distinct noise of the tall man grumbling and mumbling, but before Andy lost his patience, Mix came ambling through the door.
"He said yes to the three way?" He asked with a note of decided wonder in his voice as he handed over the camera and laptop.
Andy silenced him with a look and grinned at Patrick. "No. Not yet. What do you say, Patrick? Mix is alarmingly gentle."
"And I'm pretty good with my hands." He added helpfully.
"He is." Andy agreed and turned the computer on. "Which site are we doing then?" He asked while Patrick sat spluttering over the possibility of sleeping with both the unfairly toned and colorful Andy and the ridiculously tall and strong Matt.
"I guess we can search for one. But just one site, okay? I don't want to look like a sugar daddy groupie."
Andy began typing rapidly, his eyes lighting up as he found a site he approved of. "Sugar Daddy For Me dot com!" Andy declared, looking over a few names. "Ooh. That one's kinda cute. He's not as cute as you though Matty. And he's 45, so... Yeah, not gonna happen. Okay Patrick, let's get the personals out of the way. Patrick Martin Stump, age 21, hair... Red? What do you think Mix? Red? No, I will not check his pubes. He's an innocent virgin, Matthew Mixon. 'Strawberry blonde.' Sounds a lot cuter. Besides, redheads are trouble and gingers are a plague. Remember that weird Travis kid from 2B? Troublesome plague."
"My middle name was changed to 'Vaughn', Hurley. And I'm not a v-"
Andy interrupted with a loud "Na-na-na-na! I can't hear you! Na-na-na-na!"
Matt placed one big hand on Patrick's shoulder. "He's serious about your virginity, bro. As far as he's concerned you'll stay a virgin til you die, or he deflowers you. Hurley has Images, and yours is the Sweet Virgin."
"But... Fine, Hurley! I'm a 21 year old virgin. Don't drink. Vegetarian. Put in that I like music a lot."
"Sweet... Virgin... Edge? Edge. Let's see... Sings... Plays... Everything... Now. We need a profile picture for you, dude. Mixon! Come cuddle Patrick. Make him irresistible to other dudes by showing how cute and tiny he is next to your tall ass."
"I'm not TINY!" Patrick yelled, his face pink and getting pinker with the flash of Andy's camera. "I will kill you, Hurley. You're like two inches taller than me!" He muttered darkly, stomping to the bed and letting Mixon cuddle up to him, kissing his throat and making Patrick shiver.
"Those two count for a lot, Little One. That's good. Get him all flustered." Andy encouraged, watching as Matt pulled Patrick into his lap and kissed behind his ear, making Patrick moan softly. He was so into the movement of Matt's lips, so eager to taste them, he didn't even notice Andy's camera clicking away, catching him at his most open and sultry, making out with the darker man and letting his soft hands wander. Andy set the camera down after a few minutes and nodded at Matt, who pushed Patrick onto his back and slithered out of the shot, leaving Patrick with a blissful expression in every photo Andy took after that.
*****
"Look, Gabe. This one's perfect. 21, doesn't drink, plays music, and he's blonde."
"Is he a virgin? I know your thing for virgins, Pete." The voice from a plush but hideous purple velvet chair came up slinking like its owner walked.
"He is... Not, actually. Hm. He's got to be lying about that part. I mean just look. He looks like an angel. He's got a little ball cap on and is playing a guitar... Look at his eyes. And his smile! This one, Gabe. He's my keeper."
"So email the dude. If you're that interested, start moving." Gabe replied lazily, flopping his hand around. "Or some 85 year old, Viagra popping nutcase is going to snatch his sweet little ass up."
"I'm bad at this. I don't wanna come on too strong."
"Pete, face it. You're GOING to come on too strong. That's who you are. Just write. Don't use phrases like 'the ribbon on my wrist says do not open before Christmas.' That's even creepy to the creepmaster himself."
"Shut it Saporta. Eventually, you'll learn to stop making me feel bad about my gift for unpleasant imagery. I'm gonna write one out and see how he reacts." Pete looked at Gabe then at the door. "You can totally go now. And leave my secretary alone. Bill stuttered every sentence for a week last time you hit on him."
"He loves me. He just needs to stop worrying about his virtue. I'll treat him like a lady." Gabe gave Pete a lewd wink and slunk out the door, perching on Bill's desk like a cat waiting for a canary. Pete heard William's surprised squeak and a stuttered "G-g-gabe," before the door closed and he was left alone with his computer.
Pete bit his lip softly and grabbed a notebook, twirling a blue ballpoint pen between his fingers to begin writing. He smiled as he wrote, his thoughts flowing freely as he printed the picture of Patrick looking back over his bare shoulder in someone's room, the cool light of the moon falling around his golden hair and lighting up his bright eyes, his cheeks a gentle pink and his smile wide and sweet.
"When the moonlight hits your bright eyes I go blind..."
*****
"Patrick!" Andy called, walking into Patrick's apartment, his laptop under his arm. As part of their agreement, made after Patrick was pleasantly sated and curled into Mixon's arms, Patrick would have no access to his own profile without Andy. Andy would answer emails, approve requests and if it got to that point, screen dates. "I've got one. 25. Runs a record company and clothing line, writes in awkward prose and has a fascination with 80s movies."
He pulled up a page, hideous looking clothing designs and half face pictures showing off one bright honey speckled brown eye and a whole lot of liner scattered in the clips and phrases about the man on the page. His basic stats were easy to see along with the fact that he'd emailed Patrick more than a few times within hours of each other. Andy pressed close to Patrick and handed him the laptop, letting him read through every email "UnlovablePete" sent him. By the third one, Patrick was already distractedly tapping his fingers on the couch, smiling as he read. "You gotta print these, Andy. It's amazing. I can hear myself writing music to this. I mean some of it is shit, but some is amazing and I can hear it."
"Should I accept his offer of a date then?" Andy asked, smiling when Patrick turned pink and nodded, trying not to look too eager. Andy took the laptop back and began typing, giving Pete directions to the shop around the corner from their complex. Andy made it very clear that Peter was to be meeting him, not Patrick for the first interaction, and that he was to meet Patrick only if he passed Andy's inspection.
Pete replied immediately and agreed, telling Andy he'd be there with bells on. No seriously. Freaking bells, man. Andy showed Patrick the email and laughed.
"Hey, Hurley. Can I go with you? I mean I'll hide in a corner and wear a cap and everything. He won't see me. I just want to know what he looks like." Patrick asked softly, turning his eyes to their most pleading look and Andy almost instantly relented. To be honest, Patrick wanted to see if the man matched his words at all or if he had someone write them for him. His looks, from the half face shots and the frames of tone body made Patrick hope he wasn't pretty but vapid, all looks and no brains. With his luck, Patrick would get the pretty rich boy who hired people to think for him. Patrick hoped like hell his luck was changing.
*****
Pete showed up to the coffee shop early, however, not earlier than Andy and Patrick. Patrick was wearing one of Mixon's hoodies and Kyle's ball caps, tucked into a corner where he could watch Andy meet Pete. Every tanned boy that walked in raised Patrick's interest until finally one breezed in and sat across from Andy, a big smile on his face.
"Suck a nut, Wentz. He's not going to see you of all people."
"Professor Hurley. Nice to see you again. I didn't know you were in the virtue protecting business." Pete said with a cat like grin that was equal parts charming and creepy.
Patrick couldn't hide his surprise at finding out Andy's job. "Professor? That's what you do, Andy?!" He yelped, eyes wide when he realized he'd blown his cover.
"Yes. I'm a professor of anthropology at DePaul. That's beside the point, so sit down Patrick. Pete, be gone. You're not allowed to date him."
"Why not? You seemed really keen on it when you didn't know I was, Professor. What's changed between then and now?" Pete teased, and yeah. One smile his way, and there was Patrick caught like a fly in Pete's stupidly charming web.
"The fact that I know who you are now. This -Peter, I'm right here. Stop looking at Patrick- isn't going to work at all. He's too sweet to have any of your nonsense or copious amounts of baggage attached to him. Patrick, this one's bad news. I should have known better than to put into action any idea Trohman had. The kid's so sly he's almost Canadian."
Andy waved a dismissive hand at Pete, and when the other made no move to leave, just leaned forward and adjusted Kyle's hat to look at Patrick's eyes and whisper "I'll find you," Andy picked up his phone and sent a message that had his lumbering other half wandering into the shop and collecting Patrick in no time.
Once Patrick had been carried away, Pete turned to Andy. "Look, Hurley. Just cause I'm kind of a dick doesn't mean I'll be that way to him. Have you seen him? He's pretty much perfect. I'm not gonna steal him away and run to Montreal to get married or something. I just want to hold his hand. Come on, Hurley. Let me take him to a movie or something. Let him decide if he wants me."
Andy's eyes narrowed at the city choice and he shook his head. "You're not getting near him, Peter. Especially not to steal him away to Montreal to ruin his life with marriage and Canadians. Don't even get me started on Quebec." Andy complained, his jaw set stubbornly. "Yes, Patrick's as close to an angel as I'll believe in, yes he read your words and began writing music for them. Yes he's a good boy with a good heart and a killer voice that springs from a perfect mouth. That's exactly why you're not good enough for him. Come on Pete. You dropped out halfway through your senior year to start a band with Saporta. What became of that?"
"I quit that to start Clandestine. Wait, he wrote music to my words?"
"And what happens when Patrick isn't the shiny new toy anymore, Pete?" Andy asked, his voice straining to keep calm as he ignored Pete's question.
"I... Andy, dude, he's not going to go out of style, or make me bored like some of-"
"Some what, Pete? Some of the other things you've been passionate about at first?" Andy's hands hit the table and he bared his teeth at Pete for a second, making the other man jump. "He isn't something you can get tired of, Pete! You don't have to see him after shitty dates, watch guy after guy just not appreciate him! When I agreed to help him with this, I promised him I wouldn't let a guy like you come in, charm him and break his heart. If he was that hurt after a bad date, I don't want to see the look on his face after he's already fallen for you and you leave him for next year's model."
"Fuck, Andy. What kind of asshole do you think I am?" Pete took one look at the Vegan and bit his lip. "Point taken. I won't hurt him because I'm tired of him. Because I'm selfish, stupid and scared, yeah, but not because I don't want him. He'd have to have... Like... Perpetual halitosis or hate my dog or something, okay?"
"I don't believe you, Pete. I won't have him hurt." Andy stood up and turned to leave. "Don't email him. Don't try to find anything else out about him. You've seen his face and that's enough to have to undo."
"You can't tell him who to be attracted to, Hurley." Pete growled, angry that Andy had such control over Patrick's dating. "I saw him. I saw the look on his face when our eyes met. We're meant to be, and you can't stop that."
"I can, and I will. Pete, let me ask you something." Andy turned around and peered at the other man's face, for once seeing a touch of hurt in his normally slightly mocking eyes. "If you dated him, and he fell for you to the point that he said 'okay, here's me turning 60, and Pete's there. Here's us having the grandkids over for dinner, and Pete's there,' do you see yourself holding his hand when he isn't some pretty young thing anymore? Laying next to him when he's tired or sick or angry at you? Or do you see yourself running away when he isn't the boy you lusted after on the website? Don't. Don't answer me now. You think about that before you decide whether or not you want to ruin this boy's life."
Pete watched Andy leave and frowned at his back. "Why do I always have to ruin people's lives? Why can't I just love someone?"
*****
"He was gorgeous, Mix. Toned, tanned, dark hair and the most beautiful eyes..." Patrick snuggled closer and looked up at Andy's boyfriend. "I wanted to kiss him right there before he got a good look and decided he didn't want me. Matt, why does Andy hate him so much?"
"Firstly, Patrick, you can't tell me that he wouldn't think you're gorgeous too. Do you remember the night we got you to do this? How Andy and I touched you, kissed you, held you? You're beautiful. Wentz would be crazy to not want you." Matt kissed his forehead. "Pete's just bad news. He's never followed through on anything he's started with this much enthusiasm. He was a semester away from graduating, with honors, I might add. Dropped out to start a band with Saporta when Gabe decided he didn't feel like doing the school thing anymore."
"What happened?" Patrick asked, smiling when Matt leaned down to nuzzle his ear gently.
"They were both bass players so the band fell apart. Especially after Gabe realized that winning the bass coin toss meant Pete was the singer." Matt laughed and held Patrick close. "He tried to run a blood drive, study group, soup kitchen and adoption fair for stray cats and dogs. Started off all gung ho on all of them and then fizzled out. Andy doesn't hate him. He hates the lack of dedication to what he does. And maybe the fact that Pete never let him forget that he's a week older than Pete."
"How is Andy a professor so young?" Patrick asked, letting Matt move him around so he was the little spoon.
"Hard work. Brilliance. Andy's a certified genius. He finished college before most kids start high school, and he went to teach at DePaul when he was able to. Andy is just... He's a crazy genius, minus a little crazy. Just a little crazy, you know, with the Canadian thing."
"Why does he hate Canadians?"
"Hate isn't the right word. He doesn't trust them, that's all. Stu had to say he was from Montana, and when Andy found out he wasn't, it just cemented his distrust for Canadians." Matt shrugged and closed his eyes. "But that's a story for another time."
Andy came in and made a general noise of annoyance. "Matt. Matthew. Mixon! Wake up. Move to the bedroom. Patrick, you come too. I want to talk to both of you." He stomped away, his bare feet purposely loud on the hardwood floor.
Matt shrugged and sat up, bringing Patrick with him and depositing him on the bed. Andy immediately grabbed him and laid with his head on the boy's chest as Matt replaced himself behind Patrick.
"Andy? What happened?" Patrick asked softly, stroking into his thick hair like Matt showed him Andy liked. Andy sighed.
"Would you hate me if I kept him away from you forever, Patrick?" Andy asked quietly, the tension in his body melting away with every stroke into his hair. "Because I know him. Would you hate me for not letting him hurt you, but also, not letting him love you as long as it lasts?"
"I trust you, Andy. You know I do. He's beautiful but he wouldn't want me. Not for long, and once a man like that loves me, I don't think I'll be able to handle how it ends." Patrick said softly, his voice cracking a little and his hand slowing to a stop. Andy lifted his head and pressed a firm kiss to Patrick's lips.
"You're perfect. He'd want you, because he has no reason not to. What I'm afraid of is what he'd do if he gets tired of the relationship. He had a different girl on his arm every week in school. I used to see him and hate that he just left them when he was tired of them." Andy reached for Matt's hand and held it over Patrick's hip. "Stay with us tonight. Stay close to us and let us just keep you tonight. We'll talk about this tomorrow."
Patrick nodded and turned to kiss Matt softly, then turned to kiss Andy with the same heartbroken need. Andy looked over his shoulder at Matt's face and gave him a look that said "I just may have fucked this up."
*****
Patrick went to work the next day, a little more quiet than usual. He strapped on his blue apron and set to work at the coffee shop around the corner from his apartment, serving Greta her chamomile tea and Victoria her double shot of espresso with two sugars. He made Bob his vanilla latte and Kyle his black coffee, Stu's half decaf, but he didn't have his usual smile on his lips. The three high school boys collectively known as the Alexes bounded in after lunch and called him out on it and Patrick finally laughed, asking if they were ditching Mr. Iero's class again or if he "let them leave," like they said he usually did.
"He actually really let us leave today." The curly haired Alex piped up. "Had some dude drawing a picture of him in class. The dude was totally weird. Tiny teeth." He nodded.
The other two began jabbering at each other and before long Patrick set their hot chocolates in front of them and shooed them off to their favorite table where they sat and played cover songs the rest of the afternoon, eventually prodding Patrick into joining them for a cover of Killing Me Softly. Halfway through the song, a man who was all legs walked in, sat at a table and watched the boys playing, his phone on the table. After Patrick left them and went back to the counter, the man moved. "H-hi. M-my name is William. I was h-hoping you were h-hiring." He smiled charmingly and Patrick offered a bright smile in return.
"Well, I'll have to check with Suarez and Ryland. This is their place, but I'm sure it'll be fine. Let me have your number, so I can tell you when to come in."
William rattled off his number and thanked Patrick. He watched William leave and shook his head, turning back to the boys. "Hey. Any of you guys know The Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes?"
*****
"You got the job. And from Patrick!" Pete smiled at William and did a goofy little dance in his seat. "I just wanted you to be there in case he came in with Andy but he WORKS there! Bill that's amazing! You get to befriend him and tell me everything about him. This is amazing. And his voice. God, his voice must have been beautiful in person. It was perfect on the phone..."
"Um, Pete. As happy as I am you're happy, and I am, really, won't he hate BOTH of us once he finds out I have a really good job as your secretary?"
"You're right. Bill, you can't mention it until he's in love. Actually, make that until we're engaged. Married even. I don't wanna lose him over something like me not telling him you work for me."
"You're psychotic, you know that, right?" Bill asked, frowning. "He's gonna see through this. He doesn't seem dumb, Pete. Actually he seems like he'd be sort of violent when he gets tricked."
"Look. I just need to know about him. Andy deactivated his profile and hasn't set up an alternate account. I'm sure he's told Patrick about Gabe, so he's out as my spy. I need you, Bill. Please."
"Fine. But you owe me for this, Pete. Seriously owe me."
*****
"Hey. Hi. Hi, guys, down here. I have a favor to ask of you boys."
"Sorry dude. We're not for sale. Tried it once and Johnson cried for a week whenever anyone mentioned money or our buddy Cash came around."
"Fuck off Marshall. You tried to sell me to that crazy dude who lives in a Winnebago with three other dudes, three dogs and a cat."
"Brendon!" Pete supplied cheerfully.
"Uhm... We'll actually be going now," mumbled the tallest of the slim boys as he adjusted his ugly hat. "We have homework to do at the cafe."
"That's just the place I need you! See, I need you guys to pry a little. See if the barista named Patrick's dating anyone, and if it's serious. Just ask casually. If he gets too annoyed, drop it, but tell me what you learn."
"Why should we help you, dude? Patrick's our friend. And besides you're kinda creepy. No offense."
"None taken!" Pete replied, smiling at the boys. "Seriously, he was a missed connection. A love match gone awry if you will. Point is, we're meant to be and he has this little tattooed bodyguard who's got a giant man boy bodyguard."
"Andy and Matt!" Marshall smiled at the mention of the two older men.
"Wait, didn't Andy warn us about this guy?" Johnson asked. "Singer, he warned us about a little creepy dude trying to find Patrick. We should run. Like now."
Before Pete could tell them Andy was a stuffy old fart, they did.
*****
William wasn't telling him anything. Bill became good friends with Patrick and let slip that he was Pete's secretary after a few drinks one night, and mentioned to him that Pete was pretty wrecked that everyone was dead set against him and Patrick being together.
"I -hic- I feel bad for him, yanno?" William murmured. "I mean I'm dating one of his best friends now, and it's a pain in the ass, but I'm kinda falling in love with the idiot. Gabe asked me out by stealing all my markers and using them to spell out my first name and his last name letter by letter on individual post-it notes like we were married."
"That sounds oddly sweet." Patrick replied, smiling sadly. "Is... Does Pete do things like that? Stupid little things to melt a boy's heart?"
"Pete. He's a sweet guy. A little crazy, but sweet. He's been pining away over there, afraid to go to the shop in case Andy's there. He likes you, or the idea of you. Who knows until you guys meet, yanno? All I know is he's heartbroken when I tell him you haven't said anything about your interests." Bill reached for the bottle and smiled. "But let me tell you. He works over by the Chicago Diner. Most days in it. He spins at the Clandestine flagship store every Thursday between 5 and 8. You should go."
"Spins?"
"Pete fancies himself a DJ." Bill shrugged. "But I didn't tell you that."
"Thursdays... Thanks Bill."
"No problem. Hey, can I do your hair? You'd look cute with little punk spikes."
*****
"Listen Pete. You have to go today. You haven't played since the day Andy locked down Patrick's profile." Gabe drawled, slinking out of his chair. "Not that you're great shakes as a DJ but you like it."
"I don't really care about it, Gabe. I just want to see him, you know? Talk to him and maybe ask if I can hold his hand when I walk him home." He shot Gabe a look, fully expecting him to be mocking the love sick puppy theme Pete seemed to have going. He was surprised to see Gabe with an understanding smile. "Is that weird? I don't want to fuck him, except I really really do, I just wanna hold him close and kiss him and maybe get old and have kids and a dog and fights about whether we should have gotten the heated hardwood floors or not."
Gabe laughed a little and nodded. "I get that. Tell you what, Pete. Go home. Shower. Change. Meet me back here and I'll take you the only place you wanna be."
"To Patrick?!"
"Not quite. We're going to the Clan store. You may have a better time than you imagined."
"But I don't wanna go there!" Pete pouted.
"Trust me, okay? You're gonna have a little fun for a change. If you're not here, I'm going to your place to get you." Gabe said firmly, planting a sloppy kiss on Pete's cheek. "Dress nice. Don't wear your designs." He grinned and left the office with Pete pouting and glaring after him.
*****
Patrick walked into the store a little before five, his slim fitting blue jeans hugging his thighs and the black and white striped shirt he wore clung to his hips. Patrick's high top Supras were brand new, and a red, white and black shiny pair he'd picked out especially because Pete liked them. He adjusted his hat and ducked in, innocently shopping the racks until he heard a slightly accented, very smooth voice announcing the DJ. Bill was soon wrapped up in the announcer's arms, smiling and whispering to him, nodding over at Patrick and waving as Pete began his set with Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now and bled it into Unlovable. Patrick smiled and selected a black and purple shirt, watching Pete play somewhat listlessly.
Pete was even more beautiful than he had been at the cafe, all caramel skin and sad eyes. He had a little too much eyeliner on and his hair was a mess, his shirt too short and pants too tight, but Patrick knew right then and there he liked this guy. No one could write like he did and be all bad. And besides, Patrick figured he had to be great in bed. There was no way a man with a body like his, those slippery black lines over his stomach and hips wouldn't be.
Patrick stood off to the side of the makeshift stage, shirt in hand and yelled "Hey, got any Prince!?" at Pete halfway through Boys Don't Cry. Pete shook his head and glared at the crowd. "No requests, douchebag." He growled, turning back to his MacBook to bring up the next song. Gabe smacked him across the head and pointed at Patrick, laughing and shaking his head.
"Fine then. Know where I can try this on?" He asked coyly, batting his lashes a little, and laughing at how ridiculous he felt. Pete's jaw dropped and he stared at Patrick, swinging the shirt off his finger. "No? Well then I guess I'd better go somewhere else..."
Patrick turned and sashayed away, weaving through the crowd to the dressing room. Pete yelled and tried to follow, tangling himself in the cords and cables of his laptop and speakers. He almost fell over a few times trying to get out and ran after him, dragging Patrick by the arm to a fitting room. "Try it on in here." Pete said breathlessly, pushing him into a room as gently as he could, considering every neuron in his brain was screaming "PATRICK!!!"
Pete followed and locked the door after him, closing his eyes. "Patrick. Please tell me you're really here and not some Andy-conjured hallucination. Worse, don't tell me he's figured out cloning and sent some fake Patrick so I'd leave the real you alone."
Patrick laughed, the warm sound wrapping around Pete and pulling him in. "It's really me. I heard you came to play here sometimes, and I wanted to see what your music tastes were like. If we're going to do this dating thing, you have to love punk and soul, r&b and rock. And you have to have Prince."
Pete wrapped an arm around his waist and smiled. "Prince I have. And a prince in my arms too. Can I, uh, can I kiss you?"
"Just once. I don't usually kiss on a first date, but for you I'll bend my rules. After this, you're treating me like a gentleman, Pete Wentz." Patrick teased, kissing Pete long and slow, his mouth moving gently against the other's like they had all the time in the world. He finally pulled away and smiled shyly. "Hurley's gonna kill both of us."
"Totally worth it." Pete replied, leaning in for another soft kiss.
*****
"So you mean to tell me you're okay with this?" Pete asked Andy, his head in Patrick's lap and the younger man twirling strands of his dirty hair around his fingers.
"Can't say I'm not. You two seem happy together."
"Mostly happy. I saw Patrick throw a pepper mill at Pete's head at the barbecue last weekend." Mix added helpfully from underneath Andy.
"Mostly happy," Andy amended, nuzzling Matt's nose. "But what I don't get is how you found each other after I'd set up so many blocks. I mean I took down all traces of a profile and the Alexes ratted you out, Pete."
Pete barked out a laugh and shrugged. "I'm not the only one who's sneaky and a little creepy. It's how I knew he was the one."
"You're such a loser, Pete."
"You love me, shut up." Pete replied with a grin that showed all his perfectly white, maybe a little too big teeth.
"You know what? Maybe I do." Patrick grinned back and pulled him down for a quick kiss.
"Aww. Our little boy's all grown up, Matty."
"Shhhh. This has the potential to get good."
*****
Patrick and Pete loved each other a good many years. They stayed together even when they really wished they hadn't, and fought over things like the drapes and the hardwood floors in their home. They had eventually married (although Pete sent Andy an invitation that said their vows would take place in Alberta that sent the Vegan into an uproar no matter how many times they said they were joking) and raised their three sons and one daughter with all the love they could, teaching them to be kind and loving, and always to have a lot of food on hand when the Trohmans came over. Patrick never paid for dinner again, and Pete never had to write songs all by himself ever again. The couple spent enough time together to know each other inside and out, and enough time apart to miss each other madly.
Patrick almost always fell asleep before Pete, and sometimes Pete would lean in and whisper words he wrote somewhere along the line. Most nights, though, he'd press a soft kiss to his love's temple and murmur "What a catch..."