The Best Things Come From Nowhere (Part 2) || Patrick/Mikey, Pete/Ashlee || NC-17
Part 1
Given Pete’s concerns about not hanging out as much, Patrick wanted to make sure that they got together at some point over the weekend. He invited Pete to go with him that Sunday afternoon to browse for records, something he usually did alone. As they wandered around the store, Pete would hold up an occasional record for Patrick to give his assessment of, even though Pete didn’t own a record player of his own.
Patrick picked out a few albums and took them over to the counter to pay. As he was standing in line to pay, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that hung on the wall behind the register.
“Jesus,” he mumbled, running his hand under his hat to brush a few stray strands back. His clothes were wrinkled from where he’d left them in the dryer overnight and a stubborn stain from marinara sauce clung to his t-shirt. “I look like a bum. Why’d you let me leave the house looking like this?”
Pete looked up from where he was paging through a copy of Rolling Stone. “What? Shut up, you look awesome,” he replied before returning his focus back to the magazine.
“No, seriously,” Patrick insisted. He started to elaborate, but stopped himself, instead taking his change from the cashier and tucking the albums under his arm before heading out of the store.
As Pete pushed through the door behind him, Patrick asked, “Do I do that a lot? Like, put myself down? Mikey mentioned something about it yesterday.”
Pete looked over at Patrick, raising an eyebrow. “He did?” he asked, sounding intrigued. “Yeah, you totally do. You need to knock it off, too. You’re awesome and everyone should think so.” Pete dug his keychain from his pocket, heading around to the driver’s side of his car and unlocking the door.
“Yeah, he said I’m always brushing off compliments and acting like I’m nothing special,” Patrick said with a grimace. “He told me I need to stop doing that."
Pete paused as he was opening the door. “Mikey sounds like a good guy,” he said at last.
Pulling open his own door, Patrick nodded. “He is,” he agreed.
***
“So,” Mikey started, one day at work. “There’s this party Friday night. A bunch of St. Joe’s kids. You wanna come?” Mikey was busy rearranging the boxes of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, pulling them to the front of the shelf, so Patrick couldn’t read his expression.
“Uh, seriously?” Patrick chuckled. “You want me to go hang out with a bunch of stuck-up private school kids?” It wasn’t really his scene. Parties in general weren’t really his scene, especially ones where he didn’t know the majority of attendants. Socializing with strangers was not high on Patrick’s list of things to do.
Mikey glanced over to where Patrick was re-shelving boxes of pasta and rolled his eyes. “No, not with a bunch of stuck-up private school kids,” he replied. “With a bunch of cool people who have to suffer through their private school education like I do. And some other random kids too, probably.” Mikey resumed moving around the boxes and gave a half-hearted shrug. “It’s not a big deal or anything. I was just wondering if you wanted to meet some of my friends.”
“No! I mean, yeah. Of course I want to meet your friends,” Patrick tried to explain. “I mean, if they’re your friends, they have to be cool, too. Right? I just… I don’t know. I guess I feel a little weird about hanging out with strangers, you know?” Taking a deep breath, he nodded his head a few times. “But yeah, I’ll go. Sure.” He wasn’t entirely convinced it was a good idea, but he genuinely liked Mikey and liked hanging out with him. It couldn’t hurt to meet other people like him.
Mikey hummed in thought. “Well, if it would make you feel more comfortable, why don’t you bring some of your friends with?” he suggested. “It’s not like there’s a guest list at the door or anything. Bring Pete and his girlfriend and whoever else. The more the merrier.”
“Really?” Patrick relaxed slightly at the suggestion. There was still the anxiety of a social obligation to deal with, but it would be a lot easier if he had a group of people he felt comfortable with to hang around as opposed to just Mikey. “Yeah, that would be cool. Thanks, man. And thanks for asking me.” He gave Mikey a smile, which Mikey mirrored.
***
Once Mikey had filled Patrick in on the rest of the details of the party - the location and the approximate time, although being late was always the better move - Patrick talked to his group of friends to see if anyone else would be interested in going to a party of St. Joe’s kids. After the initial faces were made and Patrick explained that it was Mikey’s friends who’d be there, he got Pete to agree to come with Ashlee, as well as Joe, Andy, and Matt.
Mikey had said that the party would start at 8-ish, so of course they came at 10. They’d squeezed into Andy’s mom’s mini-van and drove to a house in Snob Nob. “This doesn’t seem promising,” Andy had mumbled when they turned down a street with homes that had four-car garages.
“Mikey says it’s not the snobby kids,” Patrick reminded him, hoping it was true.
“Hey,” Pete piped up from the back. “My parents have a nice house. Doesn’t mean I’m an asshole.”
“And yet, you are,” Joe quipped, a hazy smile on his face.
Laughing, Pete gave Joe a friendly push on the head. “And you still hang out with me,” he reminded Joe.
“Indeed, I do.”
Andy pulled the van up to the curb down the street from the apparent location of the party, evident by the cluster of cars surrounding it. They weren’t BMWs and Jaguars, so Patrick figured that was a good sign. They could hear the music coming from the house as they made their way up the drive, which was also a good sign.
Pete pushed through the door first, flanked by Ashlee. Patrick stood at the back of their group, shifting from side to side as he waited for everyone to file in. As he entered the house, he saw through a haze of smoke a lot of kids dressed in black drinking from plastic cups. The distinctive odor of pot hung in the air and Joe immediately raised his nose and made a beeline toward the living room, where it seemed to be emanating from.
“Awesome,” he said to himself as he abandoned the group, apparently having no qualms about making himself at home with a group of strangers so long as those strangers were also stoners.
The kids in the house were grouped together in clusters and Patrick craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of Mikey somewhere. He found him as he moved toward the back of the house, leaning against a counter in the kitchen and talking animatedly to a few other guys. Mikey was holding a plastic cup in his hand and laughing, his head tossed back and mouth opened, over something the big, blond guy had said.
“Hey,” Patrick said as he approached, the word coming out somewhat breathy from the nerves he felt.
Mikey turned at the sound of Patrick’s voice, his smile falling for a moment as a look of shock overtook his countenance. “Hey!” he shouted back, his eyebrows rising and the smile returning. “I didn’t think you were coming!”
Mikey turned toward the other three, who were looking at Patrick and his group with mild interest. “This is Patrick, the guy I told you about,” he explained to his friends, waving his free hand in Patrick’s direction. Turning back toward Patrick, Mikey introduced them. The big, blond on was Bob, the guy with the crazy, curly hair was Ray, and the one who was the same size as Patrick was Frank.
“Hey,” Patrick said, nodding at each of them. He turned and made a quick introduction of his friends, sans Joe.
Bob grabbed a stack of plastic cups from the counter and turned toward the keg that sat at his side, preparing to pour drinks when Patrick stopped him.
“No thanks, man,” he said, waving him off. “We’re all edge.”
Bob stared at the group for a long moment. “Seriously?” he said at last.
Patrick glanced at Mikey and then over to his friends and then back to Bob before answering. “Seriously.” He had a moment of panic, wondering if coming to the party had been such a good idea after all.
Bob gave a shrug that read “whatever” and replied, “That’s cool.”
“More beer for us,” Frank said with a smile, holding out his cup for Bob to top off.
The group stood around awkwardly for a few moments before Ray pointed at Andy’s Metallica shirt and commented on it, which sent them off into a discussion about 80s hair bands. Frank and Pete compared tattoo work while Bob and Matt talked football, with Ashlee weighing in on her opinion about the Rangers’ defense.
“So, you really didn’t think I’d come?” Patrick teased Mikey after the group separated into individual conversations. “What, like I’d say I’d do something and not follow through? What kind of friend do you think I am?” He gave Mikey a smile so he’d know it was just good - natured teasing.
Mikey returned Patrick’s smile, shrugging. “I don’t know. Sometimes people flake,” he replied, tugging on the hem of his shirt. He chewed on his lip like he did sometimes when he was thinking and looked at the ground. After a moment, Mikey looked up at Patrick, meeting his eyes. “We are friends, right?”
Patrick furrowed his brow as he held Mikey’s look. “Yeah,” he said confidently. “Yeah, I think so. I mean, I consider you a friend.” He frowned, confused at what Mikey was getting at. “Why? Do you think we’re not?”
Mikey looked off into the distance and shook his head. “I do,” he agreed. “I just didn’t know what you thought.”
Patrick looked from side to side, feeling like he was missing an important part of the conversation. Then again, Mikey had been drinking and doing who knows what else, so maybe this was how he got when he was messed up. “Uh, okay,” he replied, deciding to let it drop. “Where’s the bathroom at in here, anyway?”
Mikey leaned forward and gestured around a group standing next to them. “It’s over-“ Mikey dropped his hand, his shoulders slumping. “Here,” he sighed, gesturing at Patrick to follow him as he headed that way. “Follow me.”
Patrick followed along closely after Mikey as he slid through the crowd of people in the room. He held on to the corner of Mikey’s shirt so as not to lose him. When they emerged from the sea of people, they were at the landing to the staircase and Patrick followed as Mikey jogged up the stairs.
Mikey led Patrick to the end of the hall upstairs where a crowd of people stood, waiting in line for the bathroom. Turning to the door across the hall from the bathroom, Mikey knocked a couple times loudly and then opened the door. The bedroom was dark, but empty as Patrick followed him inside.
“This way” Mikey said, the moonlight reflecting off his glasses as he turned back toward Patrick. “I don’t think anyone knows this bathroom is here. I found it by accident at a party last year.” Mikey walked across the room and pushed open another door before flicking the light on inside.
“Thanks, man,” Patrick replied brushing past Mikey as he entered the bathroom.
When he emerged, the bedroom was still dark and Mikey was gone. Patrick headed back down the hall to go downstairs and spotted Mikey standing in the doorway of another room, one arm propping him against the door frame as he looked inside, listening to someone.
“What’s up?” Patrick asked as he reached Mikey.
Looking back over his shoulder, Mikey noticed Patrick and shifted his position so he was no longer blocking the doorway. “They’re going to do a purity test,” he answered, rolling his eyes and smiling.
“Purity test?” Patrick raised his eyebrows, not sure what that was.
“You’ve never taken one?” Mikey asked, looking incredulous. “Seriously?” Stepping away from door, he put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder and pushed him forward into the room. “You should take one at least once.”
Patrick looked around the room of half dozen kids with paper and pens, sitting on the floor. “What is it?” he hissed back at Mikey.
“It’s just for fun. You answer questions about stuff you’ve done and it tells you how pure you are,” Mikey explained, shaking his head. “Like, if you haven’t done anything illegal or fooled around or drank or whatever, you’d be, like, completely pure or something. But if you drink and smoke but you’ve never kissed anyone, you’d be like eighty percent pure,” he tried to explain. “It’s stupid, but you should still do it,” Mikey urged, taking a paper and a pen from someone. “Just follow the directions.”
Patrick looked around confused but shrugged and sat down with everyone as a guy started explaining the test and how it was scored. Basically, the guy read off a bunch of things a person could have done, like shoplifting or smoking and for each thing you’d done, you made a mark on your paper. When the test was over, you added all the marks together and after a simple math equation, you had a percentage score telling you how pure you were.
The first group of questions had to do with lying and cheating and shoplifting and the like. Patrick made his checkmarks in the appropriate places. When they got to the questions on drug and alcohol use, he sat there and watched as everyone else made checks, feeling very out of place. The last section had to do with sex, and there were separate categories for things you’d done with someone of the opposite sex and for things you’d done with someone of the same sex.
Patrick hesitated. He had known for a long time that he was interested in both girls and guys, but it wasn’t something he really broadcasted about himself. He wasn’t particularly experienced, either, but he’d fooled around with a few people, both female and male. He hadn’t gone all the way with anyone, but he’d gone far enough that he’d acquired more than a couple checkmarks on his page. Not wanting to publicize it, he surreptitiously kept from making marks through questions about things he’d done with members of the same sex and then made double marks on the things he’d done with members of the opposite sex.
When he’d finished his test, Patrick added his marks up and followed the equation the guy gave them and figured out his percentage. He scored a fifty-eight percent, which he wasn’t sure if he should be proud of are appalled by; he supposed it depended on who he told.
Getting up to leave, Patrick noted that Mikey was no longer in the room. He figured Mikey had returned to the kitchen so he headed downstairs again. Fighting his way back through the living room (where he noticed Joe sitting on a loveseat surrounded by two guys with really long legs who were really stoned), Patrick found his friends where he’d left them.
“You’d really love her,” Ashlee was saying to Bob. “Greta’s cute but she’s just fun and I think you two would look so good together.” Pete had his arm wrapped around Ashlee’s waist and was nodding along in agreement while Bob looked back and forth between them with his eyes wide open, like he was about to be fed to the lions.
“Hey,” Mikey’s voice said in his ear, and Patrick whirled around to find Mikey standing there with a fresh cup of beer and a content smile on his face. “You returned.”
“Can we get some fresh air?” Patrick begged, not wanting to get involved in the kind of conversation Bob was being ambushed with. “It’s kind of warm in here.”
Mikey smiled wider. “Yeah, absolutely,” he replied before ambling off toward the back of the house. They reached a patio door and Mikey had to turn the handle several times and bang his shoulder against the door before finally getting it open.
The weather outside was warm, but it felt about fifteen degrees cooler than it did in the house and Patrick took in a deep breath as he closed the door behind himself. The backyard was largely empty and the thumping bass line from the stereo and the din of voices inside the house was muffled sufficiently out there so a person could have a conversation without shouting.
“Much better,” Patrick sighed, lifting his hat from his head a moment to run his hand over his hair, letting the cooler air hit his scalp.
Mikey stumbled down a pebbled path through the landscaping in the backyard. “Are you having fun or is it as bad as you thought it would be?” he wondered.
“No, I didn’t think it would be bad,” Patrick answered, following along behind him. “I just thought it would be uncomfortable or something, not knowing anyone. But I guess everyone’s getting along okay. Your friends seem pretty cool.”
Pausing, Mikey looked up at the night sky and turned around to face Patrick. “Yeah, it’s good,” he agreed. “Did you finish that purity test?”
Patrick laughed and shrugged. “Yeah, I finished it. I’m not really sure what the point of it is or what it even means, but whatever. I took it.”
“There really is no point to it. Like I said, it’s just for fun.” Mikey bit his lip and looked at Patrick expectantly.
“What?” Patrick chuckled, feeling nervous.
“What’s your score?” Mikey asked, grinning.
Patrick laughed and walked past Mikey, further into the backyard. “What does it matter?” he asked over his shoulder.
“It doesn’t,” Mikey replied. He followed after Patrick, silent for a time before asking again. “So what was your score?” Patrick could tell by his tone of voice he was smiling without even looking.
“Dude, it doesn’t matter,” Patrick insisted. “You already said it’s just for fun. It’s not a measure of anything.”
“I’m just curious,” Mikey insisted.
Sighing, Patrick muttered under his breath, “Fifty-eight.”
“What?” Mikey asked, taking a few steps forward to hear him better.
Patrick sighed again and repeated his score in a louder voice. “Fifty-eight.”
Mikey blinked a few times and then looked to the side before returning his eyes to Patrick. “I thought you said you’ve never drank or smoked or any of that,” he said suspiciously.
Narrowing his eyes, Patrick crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I haven’t,” he said flatly.
Mikey thought for another moment. “Well, if you haven’t done any of that, how is your score so low?” He furrowed his brow as he tried to work it over in his head before his eyes suddenly widened. “Oh,” he said quietly, staring at Patrick a long moment before the corner of his mouth twitched up.
Patrick’s heart began to pound heavy in his chest, his eyes focused on the curl of Mikey’s lip, the clear message that smirk was sending. If Mikey had a problem with his sexuality, it was definitely a deal-breaker for their friendship. Even if he hadn’t bisexual himself, homophobia wasn’t any more acceptable than racism or sexism. He hadn’t expected it from Mikey, though. He felt sick.
Narrowing his eyes even more, Patrick glared at Mikey. “Yeah. Oh,” he shot back. “Oh, Patrick’s a fag. Oh.” Huffing out a breath, he pushed past Mikey and stormed back toward the house. He didn’t bother to look back to see if Mikey was still laughing at him.
“I’m ready to go,” he announced to Pete before edging his way out of the house. He barreled through the front door without bothering to check if anyone was following him, crossing the yard and making a beeline for Andy’s van.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he was muttering under his breath when he heard footsteps moving quickly through the grass before a hand was grabbing his shoulder.
“Patrick,” Pete said loudly as he turned him around. “What the fuck is going on? Are you okay?”
Patrick clenched his jaw, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he stared back at Pete. “No. I want to go,” he choked out.
Pete stared at him, trying to decipher what was going on. “What happened?” he asked at last.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Patrick answered quickly, turning on his heel to head back from the van as he pulled away from Pete’s grip. He knew it was unfair to take it out on Pete who had done nothing wrong, but his anger was clouding everything over at this point.
“Okay,” Pete said calmly from behind him. “I’ll go get everyone.”
Patrick listened as Pete trudged back to the house, leaning his head against the side of the van as he waited. When his phone began to vibrate a minute later, he pulled it from his pocket to see the display read, “MWay,” and simply ended the call without answering it.
***
Mikey didn’t call or text Patrick after the party and Patrick didn’t pay it any mind. Thankfully, the few times they shared the same shift at work, they managed to be put on different duties so Patrick didn’t have to deal with him. He switched break times once with a co-worker so he didn’t have to take it at the same time as Mikey. Patrick wanted to be as far away from Mikey as possible. He had thought they were friends, but if Mikey couldn’t handle the fact that sometimes Patrick was into dudes, he could go fuck himself.
It wasn’t until a week later that Patrick actually had to deal with Mikey. He was taking the trash out, and when he lumbered through the back door with the heavy sack over his shoulder, he nearly smacked into Mikey who was standing on the landing having a cigarette on his break.
Patrick gritted his teeth and swept past him, keeping his eyes focused on the stairs as he made his way down. He could feel Mikey’s eyes following him to the dumpster, but he refused to look back at him, not wanting to give Mikey the satisfaction.
Patrick heaved the large bag into the dumpster, listening to it clamor when it hit the bottom of the metal container. Wrinkling his nose at the smell it kicked up, Patrick turned and strode back toward the store, his eyes on the ground in front of him so he wouldn’t have to acknowledge Mikey. He jogged up the few stairs to the landing, but and as he reached the top Mikey stepped back, putting his right foot far enough behind himself to slightly block Patrick’s path. Patrick paused a moment, his eyes slowly rising to Mikey’s face.
Exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air, Mikey stared back at Patrick, his expression blank. “You’re an idiot,” he said simply.
“I’m an idiot?” Patrick spat back, feeling the anger in him rise. “I’m not the one killing myself with a cigarette.” Stepping past Mikey, Patrick turned his shoulders to keep from brushing up against Mikey as he passed, not wanting to touch him.
As Patrick pulled the back door open, Mikey turned back toward the railing, leaning over it, his weight supported on his forearms. “Why do you care if I want to kill myself with cigarettes?” Mikey asked casually, looking off into the distance.
Stopping in the doorway, Patrick muttered, “I don’t,” turning back to face Mikey so Mikey could see just how much he didn’t care, making his expression as blank as possible.
“Really?” Mikey asked, straightening up and turning around. He put his elbows on the railing and leaned back against it. “I don’t believe you.” Cocking his hip to one side caused Mikey’s shirt to ride up and expose an inch of flesh on his right hip.
Patrick’s eyes traveled down to look at the line of Mikey’s hip, lingering for a second. “Fuck you,” he grumbled before tearing his attention away and heading back into the store. The heavy door would have banged shut behind him no matter what, but Patrick slammed it as hard as he could for good measure.
***
That night, Patrick lay in bed, tossing and turning as he thought about Mikey. He was pissed that Mikey cared so much about who he was into, and pissed at himself for caring about whether Mikey cared. Punching his pillow a few times, he tried to reshape it into a more comfortable position.
After a few more minutes without success in falling asleep, Patrick kicked his feet and flailed his arms, frustrated that he was too tense to sleep. He needed to relax, but he couldn’t bring himself to calm down. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to count sheep or to think of peaceful scenes of waves crashing against a shoreline. Nothing worked.
There was one surefire way to make himself tired, he knew, but he wasn’t really in the mood to jerk off right then. He wasn’t horny, just angry. Still, nothing else was working.
Reaching into his nightstand drawer, Patrick procured a bottle of lotion and poured a generous amount in his hand before reaching into his boxers and spreading it over himself. He wasn’t hard, but as he worked it over himself, he thought maybe he could get there.
Patrick stared into space, trying to think of something hot. He thought of Jessica Biel and her curves, but it wasn’t really working for him at the moment. He thought of Justin Timberlake with Jessica Biel, and that was maybe a little more of a turn-on, but it still wasn’t getting him anywhere.
Morrissey suddenly popped into his head, and he considered him for a time while working his hand over his dick, now half hard. Morrissey was kind of old, but he was pretty hot when he was younger. He was British too, which added some mystique to him. His music was a little too angst-ridden for Patrick’s taste, but his features were strong, and he had a presence, which was hot.
Patrick ran his thumb over the tip of his cock, spreading pre-come over it now that he was fully hard. He spread his legs, flexing his feet so he could dig his heels into the mattress, giving himself a firm footing in case he needed to buck up into his hand. A heavy longing feeling was forming deep in his gut, and Patrick was starting to want it more now.
Sliding his free hand up under his t-shirt, Patrick trailed his fingertips lightly across his chest. He twisted his wrist to get a different hold on his cock, making it feel like someone else was jerking him off instead, someone who knew what worked for him. The thought made him shudder and his eyes fell closed, his lips parted as he tried to breathe steadily, his hand still working over himself.
Patrick thought about Morrissey, his mouth. He imagined Morrissey going down on him, looking down and seeing his cock sliding in and out of his lips. He felt himself twitch in his hand, a hot current of desire shooting through his belly.
Patrick could see himself reaching down to run his fingers through Morrissey’s hair or to take a hold of it in his hand and suddenly, he found himself thinking of how utterly ridiculous that hair was. It wasn’t nearly as ridiculous as Mikey’s hair, though. Patrick’s jaw clenched tight at the thought of Mikey and he pictured him with his stupid hair and the way he wore it underneath his glasses and all the time it must have taken him to style it every day just to look that fucking stupid.
Anger flared in his chest as he continued to stroke himself, thinking of Mikey and his hair and how utterly ridiculous it looked. He was jerking himself off faster now, his wrist twisting slightly to rub over the head of his cock and Patrick’s whole body shuddered, a soft moan escaping his mouth. Mikey had called him an idiot, but clearly he was the idiot with his ridiculous hair, Patrick thought, pushing his t-shirt up to his underarms.
Patrick rubbed the palm of his hand over his chest as he felt his stomach ache with the need for release. He stopped moving his hand momentarily to squeeze himself just below the head of his cock, trying to stave off his need to come, to prolong it for a moment. He didn’t want to come thinking about Mikey. Fuck Mikey, he thought, and then his eyes were filled with the vision of Mikey’s hipbone, Patrick on top of him, their mouths pressed together and Patrick was sliding his hand over the shaft of his cock once more and coming, hot, all over his chest.
Lying there a moment, his cock still in hand, Patrick stared up at the ceiling, panting to catch his breath. He blinked a few times before reaching over to grab a handful of tissues and dab the mess on his stomach and chest and to clean off his hand before tossing the tissues in the trash. Pulling his shirt back down, Patrick rolled on to his side, determined not to think on what had just happened any more as he fell fast asleep.
***
Patrick didn’t think about Mikey. He didn’t think about how he’d jerked off while thinking about Mikey. He certainly didn’t miss Mikey. He didn’t think about Mikey and didn’t think about Mikey until Mikey was pretty much all he could think about.
Flipping open his phone, he scrolled through his list of contacts until he found the entry marked “MWay” and decided to send him a text. “Why did you call me an idiot?” he tapped out.
He didn’t hear back, not right away. After a few minutes of staring at his phone, Patrick gave up and pulled out his pre-calculus homework, staring at some equation he didn’t have the first clue of how to solve. Sometime later, his phone came to life.
“Why r u mad at me?” was Mikey’s response.
Patrick frowned at the question. Mikey knew why Patrick was mad at him. Of course he knew. Patrick sent back: “Bcuz you laughed at the fact Im bi?”
Mikey’s response came back quickly: “Ur an idiot.”
***
“Mikey called me an idiot,” Patrick grumbled on the phone to Pete. “Twice, actually.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot quickly against the floor as he glared at the wall.
There was a pause on the other end for a moment before Pete responded. “No offense, dude, but you are kind of an idiot,” Pete replied, sounding amused.
It wasn’t the response Patrick was expecting and his mouth fell open quickly before scowling. This was not the kind of reaction a sympathetic best friend would have. Patrick was about to say as much when Pete cut him off. “You remember a few years ago when I had a mad crush on you for like six months?” he asked.
Patrick furrowed his brow, because he had no idea what Pete was talking about. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Exactly,” Pete replied.
Patrick stopped tapping his foot and uncrossed his arms, dumbfounded. “Wait. Are you serious?” he asked.
“Yes, of course I’m serious,” Pete laughed. “Jesus, Patrick. You’re my best friend and I love you to death, but man, you can be pretty oblivious.”
Patrick could feel his face going red and he brought his hand up to cover his eyes. “Pete,” he said seriously into the receiver. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
“Dude!” Pete said, laughing harder. “I know you had no idea. It’s okay. Ancient history. Things worked out good for me, alright? I love Ashlee. I’m just trying to let you know, you’re kind of dumb about people liking you.”
Patrick sat there, still trying to get it. “Are you saying Mikey likes me?” Patrick asked warily.
“I’m saying you’re kind of dumb about people liking you. If you want to know what Mikey thinks, you’ll have to talk to Mikey.” Patrick was about to respond when Pete added, “Oops! Gotta go! Bye!” and hung up.
Fuck.
***
It wasn't until two days later that Patrick actually saw Mikey again. He was at work and knew Mikey had been scheduled for the same shift. (The first thing he did when a new schedule came down was see when he was working; the second thing was to see when Mikey was working.) He'd been thinking about what to say to Mikey when he saw him and had come to one conclusion: he had no idea.
Halfway through his shift, Patrick ended up restocking candy on the register Mikey was assigned to bag at. He threw the occasional look over in Mikey's direction, but Mikey seemed to ignore Patrick's presence, or was so engrossed in his bagging duties, he didn't have time to notice Patrick.
"Hey," Patrick said as the customers seemed to dissipate and they had a moment to themselves. His stomach twisted with worry.
Mikey glanced over at Patrick looking entirely too calm, Patrick thought. "Hey," he replied in a completely normal voice.
"Um, I was wondering if you had some time to talk." Patrick glanced around. The forty-something woman working the register was steadfastly ignoring their conversation, instead sorting out the checks and credit card receipts in her drawer.
Mikey raised his eyebrows and shrugged one shoulder, glancing around as well. "I guess?"
Patrick took a deep breath and then decided to move closer to Mikey. Even if no one else seemed to be paying attention to them, he didn't want to risk the chance that someone was eavesdropping. "So I guess I owe you an apology."
"You guess?" Mikey arched one eyebrow with interest.
"I mean, I owe you an apology. I think I was an idiot. I'm pretty sure, anyway. Or... I hope I was. I don't know," he stammered as he stared down at the toes of his Converse.
When Mikey didn't answer right away, Patrick looked back up. Mikey just shrugged again. "It's okay," he replied.
"Is it?" Patrick scrutinized Mikey.
"It will be, as soon as you buy me some coffee to make up for it," Mikey answered with a slight grin.
Patrick nodded emphatically, because it seemed like he was being let off pretty easily. "Yeah, sure thing. When did you want to go get it?" he wondered.
Mikey looked up in thought. "After work is good for me," he offered.
Patrick had nothing going on, so he agreed.
***
Mikey knew his coffee. He had charged into Starbucks with a purpose, ordering a Venti quadruple shot latte with 2% milk and a shot of hazelnut. Patrick stared at the board for a bit, and then just told the barista he wanted the largest size of whatever coffee was considered regular. He paid, left a tip at the counter, and then brought the drinks over to where Mikey had picked a spot at a small table.
Sitting across from each other, there wasn't much room for their legs under the table, and they bumped against each other's knees every time one shifted. Mikey seemed to keep stretching his foot across to Patrick's side as well, leaning his leg against Patrick's.
"So you agree you’re an idiot," Mikey said at last.
"I hope so," Patrick corrected.
Mikey's face erupted in a genuine smile, the first time Patrick had seen one from him in a week, and his stomach lurched at the sight of it. "You hope you're an idiot? That's a new one."
"Well," Patrick said as he watched Mikey take a sip from his latte. "I'm hoping I'm an idiot in the sense that I don't want what I thought happened to have happened. I mean, I hope I just misperceived it or something, I guess."
Mikey set his cup on the table. "That makes no sense at all," he stated.
"Yeah, I know," Patrick sighed. He drummed his fingers on the table, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. "So, you figured out how my purity test score could be so low, even if I'd never drank before, right?"
Mikey nodded. "Right."
"Okay, so, you know I've fooled around with guys," Patrick continued. "And... I guess I thought you were laughing at me or judging me or... I don't know. It looked like you were smirking," he tried to explain. It sounded feeble even to his own ears.
Mikey shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "No, not laughing," he confirmed. "I hope you know that I wouldn't judge you for that sort of thing."
"I know!" Patrick exclaimed, leaning forward and putting his hand on Mikey's forearm before he could catch himself. "I mean, I should have known. You're right. I'm kind of an idiot." Noticing Mikey was looking down at where he was touching his arm, Patrick quickly released his grasp on it, putting his hand back in his lap. "Anyway, I totally went off without thinking about it and I made assumptions I shouldn't have made, and I'm really sorry about it. If it makes it any better, the last week has really sucked, thinking that I lost a good friend over it or whatever."
Mikey sat for a moment, sucking on his lower lip. He brought his drink up to his mouth and took a small sip before setting his cup down again. "Well," he said at last. "I did have a reaction to what you said, so I guess I can't blame you entirely. I can see where you could have misinterpreted it. Uh, not everyone in high school is cool with that sort of thing. Believe me."
Patrick brought his cup up to his lips to take a drink and then quickly pulled it back down, his hand shooting up to cover his mouth. “Motherfuck,” he cried. “That shit is hot. How can you drink it when it’s still so hot?”
Mikey chuckled, taking another drink from his own beverage. “I’m a professional,” he replied. “Don’t try this at home. I’ve had years of training under the tutelage of my brother.”
“Goddamn,” Patrick laughed, his tongue still burning. “You Ways must have heat resistance powers.”
“We are mutants, yes,” Mikey grinned.
“It’s really nice to see you smile at me again,” Patrick admitted, his fingers running over the sides of his cup.
“Likewise,” Mikey agreed. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked around the coffee shop. “You should come over and hang out sometime, again. Maybe we can play Halo again or listen to some music.”
Patrick cringed inwardly at the idea of playing Halo. “Music sounds good,” he agreed.
“Awesome,” Mikey smiled. “How about this weekend?”
***
Neither Patrick nor Mikey had to work Friday night, so they made plans to hang out at Mikey's that night. Patrick headed over after dinner and things seemed to be the same as they had always been when they got together. They started off by playing a little bit on the Playstation, joking about each other's lack of skill.
They ended up lying on Mikey's bed, listening to music. When Mikey had put on Muse’s Black Holes and Revelations, they had been lying a couple feet apart. Throughout the course of the album, they had gradually shifted closer until their shoulders met, their bodies angling out from there to form the shape of a ‘V.’ Their legs were spread apart, however, so that Mikey’s sock - clad foot occasionally bumped up against Patrick’s.
Their conversation had waned until they were just lying there, listening to the music in silence. It didn’t feel uncomfortable though, as Patrick might have feared. Instead, he felt relaxed, like they were just enjoying each other's presence. Patrick had his hands folded over his stomach, tapping the beat against it with one index finger, Mikey’s foot still occasionally bumping against his.
When Mikey went to shift his position again, Patrick felt his hair brush across his cheek, signaling Mikey’s presence close to him. Patrick allowed his head to lean toward Mikey's until they were touching together. Closing his eyes, Patrick took in a slow, deep breath, just enjoying feeling alive as the strains of “Starlight” chimed on the stereo system.
Patrick allowed his right hand to slide off his stomach and into the space between their bodies, where he found Mikey’s hand. The back of their hands were touching, if barely, but the heat generated between their bare skin was palpable, like an electrical current was flowing between them. Surprisingly, Mikey made no gesture to move his hand away.
Patrick could feel his breathing begin to get shallower and quicker. In response, his heart thudded heavily in his chest as his stomach twisted in anticipation of what was happening between them. Forcing himself to take another deep breath, Patrick moved his hand to slide his fingers into Mikey's palm. Again, Mikey didn’t pull away. Instead, he curled the tips of his fingers around Patrick's hand, joining them together.
An incredible urge to turn his head toward Mikey overtook Patrick, and he realized he was holding his breath. For his part, Mikey lay still, but as Patrick glanced down, he could see where Mikey’s stomach was moving in and out quickly along with his breaths. Before he could dwell on it any longer, Patrick turned his head toward Mikey and reached across with his left hand to turn Mikey’s face to his.
Mikey moved without resistance and Patrick’s eyes flickered up for just long enough to notice Mikey’s eyes closing behind his glasses. It was all the permission Patrick needed as he moved forward to press a soft kiss against Mikey’s lips. It was quick, Patrick pulling back after just a second. He lingered nearby though, opening his eyes to see any kind of response by Mikey.
Mikey’s eyes fluttered open slightly and Mikey looked at Patrick through heavy-lidded eyes. They stayed like that, faces only inches apart and holding hands as they watched each other. When Patrick’s eyes dropped down, he could make out the barest of smiles playing on Mikey’s lips.
Patrick leaned in again and this time held their lips together for a few seconds. He pulled back just a couple of inches and when he moved in to kiss Mikey again, he was surprised by the sensation of Mikey’s lips around his lower lip, warm and soft as Mikey’s other hand gripped Patrick’s arm to hold him there.
Parting his lips slightly, Patrick drew his tongue across the seam of Mikey’s lips. He heard Mikey make a soft sound as he drew in a quick breath of surprise before opening his mouth just enough. Their tongues touched together and it wasn’t as if it was the first time Patrick had kissed someone, but it was the first time he’d kissed someone without being scared if he was doing it right, knowing that Mikey wasn’t going to laugh at him or mock him. The only thing Patrick felt was the need for more of this, to have more contact with Mikey.
Mikey evidently agreed they should have more contact as his mouth opened wider, coaxing Patrick’s tongue with his own. He clutched on to Patrick’s arm tighter, tugging now as he pulled back more toward the wall, trying to roll Patrick on top of him. Moving his hand from Mikey’s face, Patrick put it on the mattress to support his weight and followed Mikey’s lead, shifting himself until he was hovering on top of Mikey, their chest together and Patrick’s legs next to Mikey’s.
Staying in this position, Patrick ran his tongue over Mikey’s pulling back occasionally before immediately resuming their kisses. The sound of their mouths pressing together and pulling apart in soft, wet smacking noises and the feel of Mikey’s mouth, soft and inviting, was beginning to cause Patrick to throb hard against the zipper of his pants.
He tried to relax and keep things leisurely, not wanting to rush it along and just enjoying the moment. Mikey moved his hand to Patrick’s back, slowly sliding it up until Patrick felt it hot against the back of his neck. Mikey slid his fingers up into the hair at the nape of Patrick’s neck, tugging it gently before caressing him again.
When Mikey reached up higher underneath the back of Patrick’s hat, he knocked it off, causing Patrick to pull back. Patrick panted to catch his breath as he looked down at Mikey underneath him. Mikey’s lips were red and parted and his cheeks flushed as he looked back up at Patrick in a daze. Patrick studied Mikey’s face to remember it for later and then slipped his glasses off, tossing them aside.
Mikey pulled his glasses off as well and when Patrick brought his face down to meet Mikey’s once again, Mikey put his hand on Patrick’s hip, pushing on it to urge Patrick over. Patrick planted both hands on the bed and slid himself on top of Mikey completely, his legs straddling either side of Mikey’s leg. When he lowered himself down to Mikey, Patrick felt Mikey’s cock hard against his hip. Patrick made an undignified grunting noise as he grinded down against Mikey, a heaviness settling deep inside his gut.
“Patrick,” Mikey panted as he turned his head away to break off their kiss.
Patrick’s eyes went wide in fear as he tried to make out Mikey’s face beneath him, to see if he was upset. “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?” he asked anxiously, trying to pull back to give Mikey room.
“No,” Mikey said authoritatively as he clutched Patrick’s shoulder in an attempt to keep him from fleeing. “I’m fine, just hot,” he explained. “I just need enough room to...” Mikey let go of Patrick and reached down for the hem of his shirt, tugging it up as he wiggled to free his body of it. He tossed the shirt on to the floor and then looked up at Patrick expectantly.
Patrick blinked a few times, his eyes darting over to where Mikey had discarded the t-shirt. “You want me to?” he asked.
“If you want,” Mikey answered, his voice sounding playful. Patrick wasn’t really sure he wanted to, being a little self conscious about being shirtless. “You don’t have to,” Mikey added after a moment of Patrick’s indecision.
Mikey snaked a hand up the bottom of Patrick’s shirt, his fingertips grazing cross Patrick’s lower back and sending sparks across his skin. Patrick pulled back up to his knees and figured why not. He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it on to the floor as Mikey had done before lowering himself until his bare chest was pressed up against Mikey’s.
Their bodies were hot where they touched together, but the air was cool across Patrick’s back and he couldn’t help but shiver at the contrast. He soon forgot about it though, as the heat from Mikey’s mouth against his shot his body temperature up another ten degrees.
Their kisses grew needier, tongues tangling and lips pressing together with more urgency. Patrick pulled back and began to kiss along Mikey’s jaw line as Mikey breathed hot and heavy in his ear. Patrick sucked Mikey’s earlobe into his mouth gently flicking his tongue against it as he held it firmly between his teeth. With the soft flesh still caught in his teeth, Patrick pulled back slowly stretching the skin as his teeth scraped over it until it popped free. Mikey gasped and pushed his hips against Patrick’s, his fingers digging into the skin on Patrick’s back.
As he kissed a line down the side of Mikey’s neck to the column of his throat, Mikey began breathing more erratically. Patrick ran his tongue over the skin there, which elicited a groan of appreciation from Mikey in response. Patrick sucked in a soft spot of flesh and Mikey squirmed beneath him, moaning Patrick’s name.
Patrick’s stomach clenched at the response he had elicited, the heaviness in his gut settling deeper. Mikey shoved his hand in the back of Patrick’s waistband, before following it around to the front and tugging at the button of his jeans. Patrick raised his head to look at Mikey in question, and Mikey closed his eyes and nodded.
“Please,” he whispered, and Patrick didn’t need to be asked again. He sat up and popped open the button of his pants before shoving them down over his hips. Beneath him, Mikey was doing the same, shimmying out of his second-skin jeans before kicking the off completely so he was clad only in a pair of boxer briefs.
Patrick leaned back in over Mikey as he pulled his legs from his own jeans one at a time. His hard cock was poking out from the slit in his boxer shorts and Mikey’s fingers encircled it, holding him firmly.
“Oh, shit,” Patrick gasped, dropping down beside Mikey onto his side. At this angle, he could snake his hand into the opening of Mikey’s briefs, the palm of his hand sliding over the soft, taunt skin of Mikey’s cock. Patrick felt Mikey shudder, his head falling back as he pushed up into Patrick’s hand.
Patrick tried to concentrate on Mikey, the way he felt in his hand, similar to when he jerked himself off but completely different. Mikey was tracing circles around the head of Patrick’s cock with the pad of his thumb though, so Patrick could only concentrate so much.
He shifted his hand around to try different angles as he stroked Mikey, paying attention to the sounds Mikey made in response or the way his legs would tremble. Mikey stroked him at the same pace, slow and experimentally, their hands traveling the entire length of the shaft each time.
Ducking his head, Patrick met Mikey’s lips again with his own, kissing him soft in hurried, short kisses as he felt the tension in his stomach grow. As Mikey’s hand quickened its pace, so did Patrick’s, matching it in time.
“Patrick,” Mikey whispered, his voice strangled and Patrick could only grunt in response before he felt Mikey’s cock throbbing in his hand, hot stripes of come streaking his stomach. Patrick snapped his hips against Mikey’s hand a couple quick times and he too was coming, a low groan emanating in his throat.
Patrick pulled his hand away from Mikey, wiping his palm on the seat of his boxers. Mikey reached over his head to find the tissue box that sat on his nightstand, offering it to Patrick before beginning to clean himself up.
As they lay there, Patrick became more aware of the sweat that had pooled in the creases of his hips and the back of his knees, cooling him down. He moved closer to Mikey for warmth, and Mikey scooted in next to Patrick, his eyes closed and a content smile on his face.
“I don’t have a problem with you being bi,” Mikey said at last, causing Patrick to break into laughter.
“I should hope not,” Patrick replied. “Or we would have to have a really awkward discussion about what just happened.”
Mikey was silent for a time and Patrick just listened to him taking even breaths. “So we don’t have to have an awkward discussion now?” Mikey asked.
“Awkward?” Patrick repeated. “No. If you want to talk about it, we can. Maybe we should.”
Mikey opened his eyes and met Patrick’s eyes. “I’m not sure if there’s much to talk about. I obviously like you,” he said, smiling softly at Patrick.
“Well, I obviously like you, too,” Patrick replied. “Uh, sorry again for me being such an idiot about things. I’m kind of-“
Mikey reached up quickly, pressing a finger to Patrick’s lips. “Don’t,” he cautioned. “Don’t say anything bad about yourself. I’ll beat up anyone who says bad things about you, including you.”
Patrick smirked at that. “Yeah?” he asked, amused. “You and what army?”
“I’m a tough guy, remember?” Mikey asked, lazily lifting one arm and flexing it weakly. “Like Popeye.”
Part 3
Given Pete’s concerns about not hanging out as much, Patrick wanted to make sure that they got together at some point over the weekend. He invited Pete to go with him that Sunday afternoon to browse for records, something he usually did alone. As they wandered around the store, Pete would hold up an occasional record for Patrick to give his assessment of, even though Pete didn’t own a record player of his own.
Patrick picked out a few albums and took them over to the counter to pay. As he was standing in line to pay, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that hung on the wall behind the register.
“Jesus,” he mumbled, running his hand under his hat to brush a few stray strands back. His clothes were wrinkled from where he’d left them in the dryer overnight and a stubborn stain from marinara sauce clung to his t-shirt. “I look like a bum. Why’d you let me leave the house looking like this?”
Pete looked up from where he was paging through a copy of Rolling Stone. “What? Shut up, you look awesome,” he replied before returning his focus back to the magazine.
“No, seriously,” Patrick insisted. He started to elaborate, but stopped himself, instead taking his change from the cashier and tucking the albums under his arm before heading out of the store.
As Pete pushed through the door behind him, Patrick asked, “Do I do that a lot? Like, put myself down? Mikey mentioned something about it yesterday.”
Pete looked over at Patrick, raising an eyebrow. “He did?” he asked, sounding intrigued. “Yeah, you totally do. You need to knock it off, too. You’re awesome and everyone should think so.” Pete dug his keychain from his pocket, heading around to the driver’s side of his car and unlocking the door.
“Yeah, he said I’m always brushing off compliments and acting like I’m nothing special,” Patrick said with a grimace. “He told me I need to stop doing that."
Pete paused as he was opening the door. “Mikey sounds like a good guy,” he said at last.
Pulling open his own door, Patrick nodded. “He is,” he agreed.
***
“So,” Mikey started, one day at work. “There’s this party Friday night. A bunch of St. Joe’s kids. You wanna come?” Mikey was busy rearranging the boxes of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, pulling them to the front of the shelf, so Patrick couldn’t read his expression.
“Uh, seriously?” Patrick chuckled. “You want me to go hang out with a bunch of stuck-up private school kids?” It wasn’t really his scene. Parties in general weren’t really his scene, especially ones where he didn’t know the majority of attendants. Socializing with strangers was not high on Patrick’s list of things to do.
Mikey glanced over to where Patrick was re-shelving boxes of pasta and rolled his eyes. “No, not with a bunch of stuck-up private school kids,” he replied. “With a bunch of cool people who have to suffer through their private school education like I do. And some other random kids too, probably.” Mikey resumed moving around the boxes and gave a half-hearted shrug. “It’s not a big deal or anything. I was just wondering if you wanted to meet some of my friends.”
“No! I mean, yeah. Of course I want to meet your friends,” Patrick tried to explain. “I mean, if they’re your friends, they have to be cool, too. Right? I just… I don’t know. I guess I feel a little weird about hanging out with strangers, you know?” Taking a deep breath, he nodded his head a few times. “But yeah, I’ll go. Sure.” He wasn’t entirely convinced it was a good idea, but he genuinely liked Mikey and liked hanging out with him. It couldn’t hurt to meet other people like him.
Mikey hummed in thought. “Well, if it would make you feel more comfortable, why don’t you bring some of your friends with?” he suggested. “It’s not like there’s a guest list at the door or anything. Bring Pete and his girlfriend and whoever else. The more the merrier.”
“Really?” Patrick relaxed slightly at the suggestion. There was still the anxiety of a social obligation to deal with, but it would be a lot easier if he had a group of people he felt comfortable with to hang around as opposed to just Mikey. “Yeah, that would be cool. Thanks, man. And thanks for asking me.” He gave Mikey a smile, which Mikey mirrored.
***
Once Mikey had filled Patrick in on the rest of the details of the party - the location and the approximate time, although being late was always the better move - Patrick talked to his group of friends to see if anyone else would be interested in going to a party of St. Joe’s kids. After the initial faces were made and Patrick explained that it was Mikey’s friends who’d be there, he got Pete to agree to come with Ashlee, as well as Joe, Andy, and Matt.
Mikey had said that the party would start at 8-ish, so of course they came at 10. They’d squeezed into Andy’s mom’s mini-van and drove to a house in Snob Nob. “This doesn’t seem promising,” Andy had mumbled when they turned down a street with homes that had four-car garages.
“Mikey says it’s not the snobby kids,” Patrick reminded him, hoping it was true.
“Hey,” Pete piped up from the back. “My parents have a nice house. Doesn’t mean I’m an asshole.”
“And yet, you are,” Joe quipped, a hazy smile on his face.
Laughing, Pete gave Joe a friendly push on the head. “And you still hang out with me,” he reminded Joe.
“Indeed, I do.”
Andy pulled the van up to the curb down the street from the apparent location of the party, evident by the cluster of cars surrounding it. They weren’t BMWs and Jaguars, so Patrick figured that was a good sign. They could hear the music coming from the house as they made their way up the drive, which was also a good sign.
Pete pushed through the door first, flanked by Ashlee. Patrick stood at the back of their group, shifting from side to side as he waited for everyone to file in. As he entered the house, he saw through a haze of smoke a lot of kids dressed in black drinking from plastic cups. The distinctive odor of pot hung in the air and Joe immediately raised his nose and made a beeline toward the living room, where it seemed to be emanating from.
“Awesome,” he said to himself as he abandoned the group, apparently having no qualms about making himself at home with a group of strangers so long as those strangers were also stoners.
The kids in the house were grouped together in clusters and Patrick craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of Mikey somewhere. He found him as he moved toward the back of the house, leaning against a counter in the kitchen and talking animatedly to a few other guys. Mikey was holding a plastic cup in his hand and laughing, his head tossed back and mouth opened, over something the big, blond guy had said.
“Hey,” Patrick said as he approached, the word coming out somewhat breathy from the nerves he felt.
Mikey turned at the sound of Patrick’s voice, his smile falling for a moment as a look of shock overtook his countenance. “Hey!” he shouted back, his eyebrows rising and the smile returning. “I didn’t think you were coming!”
Mikey turned toward the other three, who were looking at Patrick and his group with mild interest. “This is Patrick, the guy I told you about,” he explained to his friends, waving his free hand in Patrick’s direction. Turning back toward Patrick, Mikey introduced them. The big, blond on was Bob, the guy with the crazy, curly hair was Ray, and the one who was the same size as Patrick was Frank.
“Hey,” Patrick said, nodding at each of them. He turned and made a quick introduction of his friends, sans Joe.
Bob grabbed a stack of plastic cups from the counter and turned toward the keg that sat at his side, preparing to pour drinks when Patrick stopped him.
“No thanks, man,” he said, waving him off. “We’re all edge.”
Bob stared at the group for a long moment. “Seriously?” he said at last.
Patrick glanced at Mikey and then over to his friends and then back to Bob before answering. “Seriously.” He had a moment of panic, wondering if coming to the party had been such a good idea after all.
Bob gave a shrug that read “whatever” and replied, “That’s cool.”
“More beer for us,” Frank said with a smile, holding out his cup for Bob to top off.
The group stood around awkwardly for a few moments before Ray pointed at Andy’s Metallica shirt and commented on it, which sent them off into a discussion about 80s hair bands. Frank and Pete compared tattoo work while Bob and Matt talked football, with Ashlee weighing in on her opinion about the Rangers’ defense.
“So, you really didn’t think I’d come?” Patrick teased Mikey after the group separated into individual conversations. “What, like I’d say I’d do something and not follow through? What kind of friend do you think I am?” He gave Mikey a smile so he’d know it was just good - natured teasing.
Mikey returned Patrick’s smile, shrugging. “I don’t know. Sometimes people flake,” he replied, tugging on the hem of his shirt. He chewed on his lip like he did sometimes when he was thinking and looked at the ground. After a moment, Mikey looked up at Patrick, meeting his eyes. “We are friends, right?”
Patrick furrowed his brow as he held Mikey’s look. “Yeah,” he said confidently. “Yeah, I think so. I mean, I consider you a friend.” He frowned, confused at what Mikey was getting at. “Why? Do you think we’re not?”
Mikey looked off into the distance and shook his head. “I do,” he agreed. “I just didn’t know what you thought.”
Patrick looked from side to side, feeling like he was missing an important part of the conversation. Then again, Mikey had been drinking and doing who knows what else, so maybe this was how he got when he was messed up. “Uh, okay,” he replied, deciding to let it drop. “Where’s the bathroom at in here, anyway?”
Mikey leaned forward and gestured around a group standing next to them. “It’s over-“ Mikey dropped his hand, his shoulders slumping. “Here,” he sighed, gesturing at Patrick to follow him as he headed that way. “Follow me.”
Patrick followed along closely after Mikey as he slid through the crowd of people in the room. He held on to the corner of Mikey’s shirt so as not to lose him. When they emerged from the sea of people, they were at the landing to the staircase and Patrick followed as Mikey jogged up the stairs.
Mikey led Patrick to the end of the hall upstairs where a crowd of people stood, waiting in line for the bathroom. Turning to the door across the hall from the bathroom, Mikey knocked a couple times loudly and then opened the door. The bedroom was dark, but empty as Patrick followed him inside.
“This way” Mikey said, the moonlight reflecting off his glasses as he turned back toward Patrick. “I don’t think anyone knows this bathroom is here. I found it by accident at a party last year.” Mikey walked across the room and pushed open another door before flicking the light on inside.
“Thanks, man,” Patrick replied brushing past Mikey as he entered the bathroom.
When he emerged, the bedroom was still dark and Mikey was gone. Patrick headed back down the hall to go downstairs and spotted Mikey standing in the doorway of another room, one arm propping him against the door frame as he looked inside, listening to someone.
“What’s up?” Patrick asked as he reached Mikey.
Looking back over his shoulder, Mikey noticed Patrick and shifted his position so he was no longer blocking the doorway. “They’re going to do a purity test,” he answered, rolling his eyes and smiling.
“Purity test?” Patrick raised his eyebrows, not sure what that was.
“You’ve never taken one?” Mikey asked, looking incredulous. “Seriously?” Stepping away from door, he put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder and pushed him forward into the room. “You should take one at least once.”
Patrick looked around the room of half dozen kids with paper and pens, sitting on the floor. “What is it?” he hissed back at Mikey.
“It’s just for fun. You answer questions about stuff you’ve done and it tells you how pure you are,” Mikey explained, shaking his head. “Like, if you haven’t done anything illegal or fooled around or drank or whatever, you’d be, like, completely pure or something. But if you drink and smoke but you’ve never kissed anyone, you’d be like eighty percent pure,” he tried to explain. “It’s stupid, but you should still do it,” Mikey urged, taking a paper and a pen from someone. “Just follow the directions.”
Patrick looked around confused but shrugged and sat down with everyone as a guy started explaining the test and how it was scored. Basically, the guy read off a bunch of things a person could have done, like shoplifting or smoking and for each thing you’d done, you made a mark on your paper. When the test was over, you added all the marks together and after a simple math equation, you had a percentage score telling you how pure you were.
The first group of questions had to do with lying and cheating and shoplifting and the like. Patrick made his checkmarks in the appropriate places. When they got to the questions on drug and alcohol use, he sat there and watched as everyone else made checks, feeling very out of place. The last section had to do with sex, and there were separate categories for things you’d done with someone of the opposite sex and for things you’d done with someone of the same sex.
Patrick hesitated. He had known for a long time that he was interested in both girls and guys, but it wasn’t something he really broadcasted about himself. He wasn’t particularly experienced, either, but he’d fooled around with a few people, both female and male. He hadn’t gone all the way with anyone, but he’d gone far enough that he’d acquired more than a couple checkmarks on his page. Not wanting to publicize it, he surreptitiously kept from making marks through questions about things he’d done with members of the same sex and then made double marks on the things he’d done with members of the opposite sex.
When he’d finished his test, Patrick added his marks up and followed the equation the guy gave them and figured out his percentage. He scored a fifty-eight percent, which he wasn’t sure if he should be proud of are appalled by; he supposed it depended on who he told.
Getting up to leave, Patrick noted that Mikey was no longer in the room. He figured Mikey had returned to the kitchen so he headed downstairs again. Fighting his way back through the living room (where he noticed Joe sitting on a loveseat surrounded by two guys with really long legs who were really stoned), Patrick found his friends where he’d left them.
“You’d really love her,” Ashlee was saying to Bob. “Greta’s cute but she’s just fun and I think you two would look so good together.” Pete had his arm wrapped around Ashlee’s waist and was nodding along in agreement while Bob looked back and forth between them with his eyes wide open, like he was about to be fed to the lions.
“Hey,” Mikey’s voice said in his ear, and Patrick whirled around to find Mikey standing there with a fresh cup of beer and a content smile on his face. “You returned.”
“Can we get some fresh air?” Patrick begged, not wanting to get involved in the kind of conversation Bob was being ambushed with. “It’s kind of warm in here.”
Mikey smiled wider. “Yeah, absolutely,” he replied before ambling off toward the back of the house. They reached a patio door and Mikey had to turn the handle several times and bang his shoulder against the door before finally getting it open.
The weather outside was warm, but it felt about fifteen degrees cooler than it did in the house and Patrick took in a deep breath as he closed the door behind himself. The backyard was largely empty and the thumping bass line from the stereo and the din of voices inside the house was muffled sufficiently out there so a person could have a conversation without shouting.
“Much better,” Patrick sighed, lifting his hat from his head a moment to run his hand over his hair, letting the cooler air hit his scalp.
Mikey stumbled down a pebbled path through the landscaping in the backyard. “Are you having fun or is it as bad as you thought it would be?” he wondered.
“No, I didn’t think it would be bad,” Patrick answered, following along behind him. “I just thought it would be uncomfortable or something, not knowing anyone. But I guess everyone’s getting along okay. Your friends seem pretty cool.”
Pausing, Mikey looked up at the night sky and turned around to face Patrick. “Yeah, it’s good,” he agreed. “Did you finish that purity test?”
Patrick laughed and shrugged. “Yeah, I finished it. I’m not really sure what the point of it is or what it even means, but whatever. I took it.”
“There really is no point to it. Like I said, it’s just for fun.” Mikey bit his lip and looked at Patrick expectantly.
“What?” Patrick chuckled, feeling nervous.
“What’s your score?” Mikey asked, grinning.
Patrick laughed and walked past Mikey, further into the backyard. “What does it matter?” he asked over his shoulder.
“It doesn’t,” Mikey replied. He followed after Patrick, silent for a time before asking again. “So what was your score?” Patrick could tell by his tone of voice he was smiling without even looking.
“Dude, it doesn’t matter,” Patrick insisted. “You already said it’s just for fun. It’s not a measure of anything.”
“I’m just curious,” Mikey insisted.
Sighing, Patrick muttered under his breath, “Fifty-eight.”
“What?” Mikey asked, taking a few steps forward to hear him better.
Patrick sighed again and repeated his score in a louder voice. “Fifty-eight.”
Mikey blinked a few times and then looked to the side before returning his eyes to Patrick. “I thought you said you’ve never drank or smoked or any of that,” he said suspiciously.
Narrowing his eyes, Patrick crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I haven’t,” he said flatly.
Mikey thought for another moment. “Well, if you haven’t done any of that, how is your score so low?” He furrowed his brow as he tried to work it over in his head before his eyes suddenly widened. “Oh,” he said quietly, staring at Patrick a long moment before the corner of his mouth twitched up.
Patrick’s heart began to pound heavy in his chest, his eyes focused on the curl of Mikey’s lip, the clear message that smirk was sending. If Mikey had a problem with his sexuality, it was definitely a deal-breaker for their friendship. Even if he hadn’t bisexual himself, homophobia wasn’t any more acceptable than racism or sexism. He hadn’t expected it from Mikey, though. He felt sick.
Narrowing his eyes even more, Patrick glared at Mikey. “Yeah. Oh,” he shot back. “Oh, Patrick’s a fag. Oh.” Huffing out a breath, he pushed past Mikey and stormed back toward the house. He didn’t bother to look back to see if Mikey was still laughing at him.
“I’m ready to go,” he announced to Pete before edging his way out of the house. He barreled through the front door without bothering to check if anyone was following him, crossing the yard and making a beeline for Andy’s van.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he was muttering under his breath when he heard footsteps moving quickly through the grass before a hand was grabbing his shoulder.
“Patrick,” Pete said loudly as he turned him around. “What the fuck is going on? Are you okay?”
Patrick clenched his jaw, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he stared back at Pete. “No. I want to go,” he choked out.
Pete stared at him, trying to decipher what was going on. “What happened?” he asked at last.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Patrick answered quickly, turning on his heel to head back from the van as he pulled away from Pete’s grip. He knew it was unfair to take it out on Pete who had done nothing wrong, but his anger was clouding everything over at this point.
“Okay,” Pete said calmly from behind him. “I’ll go get everyone.”
Patrick listened as Pete trudged back to the house, leaning his head against the side of the van as he waited. When his phone began to vibrate a minute later, he pulled it from his pocket to see the display read, “MWay,” and simply ended the call without answering it.
***
Mikey didn’t call or text Patrick after the party and Patrick didn’t pay it any mind. Thankfully, the few times they shared the same shift at work, they managed to be put on different duties so Patrick didn’t have to deal with him. He switched break times once with a co-worker so he didn’t have to take it at the same time as Mikey. Patrick wanted to be as far away from Mikey as possible. He had thought they were friends, but if Mikey couldn’t handle the fact that sometimes Patrick was into dudes, he could go fuck himself.
It wasn’t until a week later that Patrick actually had to deal with Mikey. He was taking the trash out, and when he lumbered through the back door with the heavy sack over his shoulder, he nearly smacked into Mikey who was standing on the landing having a cigarette on his break.
Patrick gritted his teeth and swept past him, keeping his eyes focused on the stairs as he made his way down. He could feel Mikey’s eyes following him to the dumpster, but he refused to look back at him, not wanting to give Mikey the satisfaction.
Patrick heaved the large bag into the dumpster, listening to it clamor when it hit the bottom of the metal container. Wrinkling his nose at the smell it kicked up, Patrick turned and strode back toward the store, his eyes on the ground in front of him so he wouldn’t have to acknowledge Mikey. He jogged up the few stairs to the landing, but and as he reached the top Mikey stepped back, putting his right foot far enough behind himself to slightly block Patrick’s path. Patrick paused a moment, his eyes slowly rising to Mikey’s face.
Exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air, Mikey stared back at Patrick, his expression blank. “You’re an idiot,” he said simply.
“I’m an idiot?” Patrick spat back, feeling the anger in him rise. “I’m not the one killing myself with a cigarette.” Stepping past Mikey, Patrick turned his shoulders to keep from brushing up against Mikey as he passed, not wanting to touch him.
As Patrick pulled the back door open, Mikey turned back toward the railing, leaning over it, his weight supported on his forearms. “Why do you care if I want to kill myself with cigarettes?” Mikey asked casually, looking off into the distance.
Stopping in the doorway, Patrick muttered, “I don’t,” turning back to face Mikey so Mikey could see just how much he didn’t care, making his expression as blank as possible.
“Really?” Mikey asked, straightening up and turning around. He put his elbows on the railing and leaned back against it. “I don’t believe you.” Cocking his hip to one side caused Mikey’s shirt to ride up and expose an inch of flesh on his right hip.
Patrick’s eyes traveled down to look at the line of Mikey’s hip, lingering for a second. “Fuck you,” he grumbled before tearing his attention away and heading back into the store. The heavy door would have banged shut behind him no matter what, but Patrick slammed it as hard as he could for good measure.
***
That night, Patrick lay in bed, tossing and turning as he thought about Mikey. He was pissed that Mikey cared so much about who he was into, and pissed at himself for caring about whether Mikey cared. Punching his pillow a few times, he tried to reshape it into a more comfortable position.
After a few more minutes without success in falling asleep, Patrick kicked his feet and flailed his arms, frustrated that he was too tense to sleep. He needed to relax, but he couldn’t bring himself to calm down. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to count sheep or to think of peaceful scenes of waves crashing against a shoreline. Nothing worked.
There was one surefire way to make himself tired, he knew, but he wasn’t really in the mood to jerk off right then. He wasn’t horny, just angry. Still, nothing else was working.
Reaching into his nightstand drawer, Patrick procured a bottle of lotion and poured a generous amount in his hand before reaching into his boxers and spreading it over himself. He wasn’t hard, but as he worked it over himself, he thought maybe he could get there.
Patrick stared into space, trying to think of something hot. He thought of Jessica Biel and her curves, but it wasn’t really working for him at the moment. He thought of Justin Timberlake with Jessica Biel, and that was maybe a little more of a turn-on, but it still wasn’t getting him anywhere.
Morrissey suddenly popped into his head, and he considered him for a time while working his hand over his dick, now half hard. Morrissey was kind of old, but he was pretty hot when he was younger. He was British too, which added some mystique to him. His music was a little too angst-ridden for Patrick’s taste, but his features were strong, and he had a presence, which was hot.
Patrick ran his thumb over the tip of his cock, spreading pre-come over it now that he was fully hard. He spread his legs, flexing his feet so he could dig his heels into the mattress, giving himself a firm footing in case he needed to buck up into his hand. A heavy longing feeling was forming deep in his gut, and Patrick was starting to want it more now.
Sliding his free hand up under his t-shirt, Patrick trailed his fingertips lightly across his chest. He twisted his wrist to get a different hold on his cock, making it feel like someone else was jerking him off instead, someone who knew what worked for him. The thought made him shudder and his eyes fell closed, his lips parted as he tried to breathe steadily, his hand still working over himself.
Patrick thought about Morrissey, his mouth. He imagined Morrissey going down on him, looking down and seeing his cock sliding in and out of his lips. He felt himself twitch in his hand, a hot current of desire shooting through his belly.
Patrick could see himself reaching down to run his fingers through Morrissey’s hair or to take a hold of it in his hand and suddenly, he found himself thinking of how utterly ridiculous that hair was. It wasn’t nearly as ridiculous as Mikey’s hair, though. Patrick’s jaw clenched tight at the thought of Mikey and he pictured him with his stupid hair and the way he wore it underneath his glasses and all the time it must have taken him to style it every day just to look that fucking stupid.
Anger flared in his chest as he continued to stroke himself, thinking of Mikey and his hair and how utterly ridiculous it looked. He was jerking himself off faster now, his wrist twisting slightly to rub over the head of his cock and Patrick’s whole body shuddered, a soft moan escaping his mouth. Mikey had called him an idiot, but clearly he was the idiot with his ridiculous hair, Patrick thought, pushing his t-shirt up to his underarms.
Patrick rubbed the palm of his hand over his chest as he felt his stomach ache with the need for release. He stopped moving his hand momentarily to squeeze himself just below the head of his cock, trying to stave off his need to come, to prolong it for a moment. He didn’t want to come thinking about Mikey. Fuck Mikey, he thought, and then his eyes were filled with the vision of Mikey’s hipbone, Patrick on top of him, their mouths pressed together and Patrick was sliding his hand over the shaft of his cock once more and coming, hot, all over his chest.
Lying there a moment, his cock still in hand, Patrick stared up at the ceiling, panting to catch his breath. He blinked a few times before reaching over to grab a handful of tissues and dab the mess on his stomach and chest and to clean off his hand before tossing the tissues in the trash. Pulling his shirt back down, Patrick rolled on to his side, determined not to think on what had just happened any more as he fell fast asleep.
***
Patrick didn’t think about Mikey. He didn’t think about how he’d jerked off while thinking about Mikey. He certainly didn’t miss Mikey. He didn’t think about Mikey and didn’t think about Mikey until Mikey was pretty much all he could think about.
Flipping open his phone, he scrolled through his list of contacts until he found the entry marked “MWay” and decided to send him a text. “Why did you call me an idiot?” he tapped out.
He didn’t hear back, not right away. After a few minutes of staring at his phone, Patrick gave up and pulled out his pre-calculus homework, staring at some equation he didn’t have the first clue of how to solve. Sometime later, his phone came to life.
“Why r u mad at me?” was Mikey’s response.
Patrick frowned at the question. Mikey knew why Patrick was mad at him. Of course he knew. Patrick sent back: “Bcuz you laughed at the fact Im bi?”
Mikey’s response came back quickly: “Ur an idiot.”
***
“Mikey called me an idiot,” Patrick grumbled on the phone to Pete. “Twice, actually.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot quickly against the floor as he glared at the wall.
There was a pause on the other end for a moment before Pete responded. “No offense, dude, but you are kind of an idiot,” Pete replied, sounding amused.
It wasn’t the response Patrick was expecting and his mouth fell open quickly before scowling. This was not the kind of reaction a sympathetic best friend would have. Patrick was about to say as much when Pete cut him off. “You remember a few years ago when I had a mad crush on you for like six months?” he asked.
Patrick furrowed his brow, because he had no idea what Pete was talking about. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Exactly,” Pete replied.
Patrick stopped tapping his foot and uncrossed his arms, dumbfounded. “Wait. Are you serious?” he asked.
“Yes, of course I’m serious,” Pete laughed. “Jesus, Patrick. You’re my best friend and I love you to death, but man, you can be pretty oblivious.”
Patrick could feel his face going red and he brought his hand up to cover his eyes. “Pete,” he said seriously into the receiver. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
“Dude!” Pete said, laughing harder. “I know you had no idea. It’s okay. Ancient history. Things worked out good for me, alright? I love Ashlee. I’m just trying to let you know, you’re kind of dumb about people liking you.”
Patrick sat there, still trying to get it. “Are you saying Mikey likes me?” Patrick asked warily.
“I’m saying you’re kind of dumb about people liking you. If you want to know what Mikey thinks, you’ll have to talk to Mikey.” Patrick was about to respond when Pete added, “Oops! Gotta go! Bye!” and hung up.
Fuck.
***
It wasn't until two days later that Patrick actually saw Mikey again. He was at work and knew Mikey had been scheduled for the same shift. (The first thing he did when a new schedule came down was see when he was working; the second thing was to see when Mikey was working.) He'd been thinking about what to say to Mikey when he saw him and had come to one conclusion: he had no idea.
Halfway through his shift, Patrick ended up restocking candy on the register Mikey was assigned to bag at. He threw the occasional look over in Mikey's direction, but Mikey seemed to ignore Patrick's presence, or was so engrossed in his bagging duties, he didn't have time to notice Patrick.
"Hey," Patrick said as the customers seemed to dissipate and they had a moment to themselves. His stomach twisted with worry.
Mikey glanced over at Patrick looking entirely too calm, Patrick thought. "Hey," he replied in a completely normal voice.
"Um, I was wondering if you had some time to talk." Patrick glanced around. The forty-something woman working the register was steadfastly ignoring their conversation, instead sorting out the checks and credit card receipts in her drawer.
Mikey raised his eyebrows and shrugged one shoulder, glancing around as well. "I guess?"
Patrick took a deep breath and then decided to move closer to Mikey. Even if no one else seemed to be paying attention to them, he didn't want to risk the chance that someone was eavesdropping. "So I guess I owe you an apology."
"You guess?" Mikey arched one eyebrow with interest.
"I mean, I owe you an apology. I think I was an idiot. I'm pretty sure, anyway. Or... I hope I was. I don't know," he stammered as he stared down at the toes of his Converse.
When Mikey didn't answer right away, Patrick looked back up. Mikey just shrugged again. "It's okay," he replied.
"Is it?" Patrick scrutinized Mikey.
"It will be, as soon as you buy me some coffee to make up for it," Mikey answered with a slight grin.
Patrick nodded emphatically, because it seemed like he was being let off pretty easily. "Yeah, sure thing. When did you want to go get it?" he wondered.
Mikey looked up in thought. "After work is good for me," he offered.
Patrick had nothing going on, so he agreed.
***
Mikey knew his coffee. He had charged into Starbucks with a purpose, ordering a Venti quadruple shot latte with 2% milk and a shot of hazelnut. Patrick stared at the board for a bit, and then just told the barista he wanted the largest size of whatever coffee was considered regular. He paid, left a tip at the counter, and then brought the drinks over to where Mikey had picked a spot at a small table.
Sitting across from each other, there wasn't much room for their legs under the table, and they bumped against each other's knees every time one shifted. Mikey seemed to keep stretching his foot across to Patrick's side as well, leaning his leg against Patrick's.
"So you agree you’re an idiot," Mikey said at last.
"I hope so," Patrick corrected.
Mikey's face erupted in a genuine smile, the first time Patrick had seen one from him in a week, and his stomach lurched at the sight of it. "You hope you're an idiot? That's a new one."
"Well," Patrick said as he watched Mikey take a sip from his latte. "I'm hoping I'm an idiot in the sense that I don't want what I thought happened to have happened. I mean, I hope I just misperceived it or something, I guess."
Mikey set his cup on the table. "That makes no sense at all," he stated.
"Yeah, I know," Patrick sighed. He drummed his fingers on the table, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. "So, you figured out how my purity test score could be so low, even if I'd never drank before, right?"
Mikey nodded. "Right."
"Okay, so, you know I've fooled around with guys," Patrick continued. "And... I guess I thought you were laughing at me or judging me or... I don't know. It looked like you were smirking," he tried to explain. It sounded feeble even to his own ears.
Mikey shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "No, not laughing," he confirmed. "I hope you know that I wouldn't judge you for that sort of thing."
"I know!" Patrick exclaimed, leaning forward and putting his hand on Mikey's forearm before he could catch himself. "I mean, I should have known. You're right. I'm kind of an idiot." Noticing Mikey was looking down at where he was touching his arm, Patrick quickly released his grasp on it, putting his hand back in his lap. "Anyway, I totally went off without thinking about it and I made assumptions I shouldn't have made, and I'm really sorry about it. If it makes it any better, the last week has really sucked, thinking that I lost a good friend over it or whatever."
Mikey sat for a moment, sucking on his lower lip. He brought his drink up to his mouth and took a small sip before setting his cup down again. "Well," he said at last. "I did have a reaction to what you said, so I guess I can't blame you entirely. I can see where you could have misinterpreted it. Uh, not everyone in high school is cool with that sort of thing. Believe me."
Patrick brought his cup up to his lips to take a drink and then quickly pulled it back down, his hand shooting up to cover his mouth. “Motherfuck,” he cried. “That shit is hot. How can you drink it when it’s still so hot?”
Mikey chuckled, taking another drink from his own beverage. “I’m a professional,” he replied. “Don’t try this at home. I’ve had years of training under the tutelage of my brother.”
“Goddamn,” Patrick laughed, his tongue still burning. “You Ways must have heat resistance powers.”
“We are mutants, yes,” Mikey grinned.
“It’s really nice to see you smile at me again,” Patrick admitted, his fingers running over the sides of his cup.
“Likewise,” Mikey agreed. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked around the coffee shop. “You should come over and hang out sometime, again. Maybe we can play Halo again or listen to some music.”
Patrick cringed inwardly at the idea of playing Halo. “Music sounds good,” he agreed.
“Awesome,” Mikey smiled. “How about this weekend?”
***
Neither Patrick nor Mikey had to work Friday night, so they made plans to hang out at Mikey's that night. Patrick headed over after dinner and things seemed to be the same as they had always been when they got together. They started off by playing a little bit on the Playstation, joking about each other's lack of skill.
They ended up lying on Mikey's bed, listening to music. When Mikey had put on Muse’s Black Holes and Revelations, they had been lying a couple feet apart. Throughout the course of the album, they had gradually shifted closer until their shoulders met, their bodies angling out from there to form the shape of a ‘V.’ Their legs were spread apart, however, so that Mikey’s sock - clad foot occasionally bumped up against Patrick’s.
Their conversation had waned until they were just lying there, listening to the music in silence. It didn’t feel uncomfortable though, as Patrick might have feared. Instead, he felt relaxed, like they were just enjoying each other's presence. Patrick had his hands folded over his stomach, tapping the beat against it with one index finger, Mikey’s foot still occasionally bumping against his.
When Mikey went to shift his position again, Patrick felt his hair brush across his cheek, signaling Mikey’s presence close to him. Patrick allowed his head to lean toward Mikey's until they were touching together. Closing his eyes, Patrick took in a slow, deep breath, just enjoying feeling alive as the strains of “Starlight” chimed on the stereo system.
Patrick allowed his right hand to slide off his stomach and into the space between their bodies, where he found Mikey’s hand. The back of their hands were touching, if barely, but the heat generated between their bare skin was palpable, like an electrical current was flowing between them. Surprisingly, Mikey made no gesture to move his hand away.
Patrick could feel his breathing begin to get shallower and quicker. In response, his heart thudded heavily in his chest as his stomach twisted in anticipation of what was happening between them. Forcing himself to take another deep breath, Patrick moved his hand to slide his fingers into Mikey's palm. Again, Mikey didn’t pull away. Instead, he curled the tips of his fingers around Patrick's hand, joining them together.
An incredible urge to turn his head toward Mikey overtook Patrick, and he realized he was holding his breath. For his part, Mikey lay still, but as Patrick glanced down, he could see where Mikey’s stomach was moving in and out quickly along with his breaths. Before he could dwell on it any longer, Patrick turned his head toward Mikey and reached across with his left hand to turn Mikey’s face to his.
Mikey moved without resistance and Patrick’s eyes flickered up for just long enough to notice Mikey’s eyes closing behind his glasses. It was all the permission Patrick needed as he moved forward to press a soft kiss against Mikey’s lips. It was quick, Patrick pulling back after just a second. He lingered nearby though, opening his eyes to see any kind of response by Mikey.
Mikey’s eyes fluttered open slightly and Mikey looked at Patrick through heavy-lidded eyes. They stayed like that, faces only inches apart and holding hands as they watched each other. When Patrick’s eyes dropped down, he could make out the barest of smiles playing on Mikey’s lips.
Patrick leaned in again and this time held their lips together for a few seconds. He pulled back just a couple of inches and when he moved in to kiss Mikey again, he was surprised by the sensation of Mikey’s lips around his lower lip, warm and soft as Mikey’s other hand gripped Patrick’s arm to hold him there.
Parting his lips slightly, Patrick drew his tongue across the seam of Mikey’s lips. He heard Mikey make a soft sound as he drew in a quick breath of surprise before opening his mouth just enough. Their tongues touched together and it wasn’t as if it was the first time Patrick had kissed someone, but it was the first time he’d kissed someone without being scared if he was doing it right, knowing that Mikey wasn’t going to laugh at him or mock him. The only thing Patrick felt was the need for more of this, to have more contact with Mikey.
Mikey evidently agreed they should have more contact as his mouth opened wider, coaxing Patrick’s tongue with his own. He clutched on to Patrick’s arm tighter, tugging now as he pulled back more toward the wall, trying to roll Patrick on top of him. Moving his hand from Mikey’s face, Patrick put it on the mattress to support his weight and followed Mikey’s lead, shifting himself until he was hovering on top of Mikey, their chest together and Patrick’s legs next to Mikey’s.
Staying in this position, Patrick ran his tongue over Mikey’s pulling back occasionally before immediately resuming their kisses. The sound of their mouths pressing together and pulling apart in soft, wet smacking noises and the feel of Mikey’s mouth, soft and inviting, was beginning to cause Patrick to throb hard against the zipper of his pants.
He tried to relax and keep things leisurely, not wanting to rush it along and just enjoying the moment. Mikey moved his hand to Patrick’s back, slowly sliding it up until Patrick felt it hot against the back of his neck. Mikey slid his fingers up into the hair at the nape of Patrick’s neck, tugging it gently before caressing him again.
When Mikey reached up higher underneath the back of Patrick’s hat, he knocked it off, causing Patrick to pull back. Patrick panted to catch his breath as he looked down at Mikey underneath him. Mikey’s lips were red and parted and his cheeks flushed as he looked back up at Patrick in a daze. Patrick studied Mikey’s face to remember it for later and then slipped his glasses off, tossing them aside.
Mikey pulled his glasses off as well and when Patrick brought his face down to meet Mikey’s once again, Mikey put his hand on Patrick’s hip, pushing on it to urge Patrick over. Patrick planted both hands on the bed and slid himself on top of Mikey completely, his legs straddling either side of Mikey’s leg. When he lowered himself down to Mikey, Patrick felt Mikey’s cock hard against his hip. Patrick made an undignified grunting noise as he grinded down against Mikey, a heaviness settling deep inside his gut.
“Patrick,” Mikey panted as he turned his head away to break off their kiss.
Patrick’s eyes went wide in fear as he tried to make out Mikey’s face beneath him, to see if he was upset. “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?” he asked anxiously, trying to pull back to give Mikey room.
“No,” Mikey said authoritatively as he clutched Patrick’s shoulder in an attempt to keep him from fleeing. “I’m fine, just hot,” he explained. “I just need enough room to...” Mikey let go of Patrick and reached down for the hem of his shirt, tugging it up as he wiggled to free his body of it. He tossed the shirt on to the floor and then looked up at Patrick expectantly.
Patrick blinked a few times, his eyes darting over to where Mikey had discarded the t-shirt. “You want me to?” he asked.
“If you want,” Mikey answered, his voice sounding playful. Patrick wasn’t really sure he wanted to, being a little self conscious about being shirtless. “You don’t have to,” Mikey added after a moment of Patrick’s indecision.
Mikey snaked a hand up the bottom of Patrick’s shirt, his fingertips grazing cross Patrick’s lower back and sending sparks across his skin. Patrick pulled back up to his knees and figured why not. He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it on to the floor as Mikey had done before lowering himself until his bare chest was pressed up against Mikey’s.
Their bodies were hot where they touched together, but the air was cool across Patrick’s back and he couldn’t help but shiver at the contrast. He soon forgot about it though, as the heat from Mikey’s mouth against his shot his body temperature up another ten degrees.
Their kisses grew needier, tongues tangling and lips pressing together with more urgency. Patrick pulled back and began to kiss along Mikey’s jaw line as Mikey breathed hot and heavy in his ear. Patrick sucked Mikey’s earlobe into his mouth gently flicking his tongue against it as he held it firmly between his teeth. With the soft flesh still caught in his teeth, Patrick pulled back slowly stretching the skin as his teeth scraped over it until it popped free. Mikey gasped and pushed his hips against Patrick’s, his fingers digging into the skin on Patrick’s back.
As he kissed a line down the side of Mikey’s neck to the column of his throat, Mikey began breathing more erratically. Patrick ran his tongue over the skin there, which elicited a groan of appreciation from Mikey in response. Patrick sucked in a soft spot of flesh and Mikey squirmed beneath him, moaning Patrick’s name.
Patrick’s stomach clenched at the response he had elicited, the heaviness in his gut settling deeper. Mikey shoved his hand in the back of Patrick’s waistband, before following it around to the front and tugging at the button of his jeans. Patrick raised his head to look at Mikey in question, and Mikey closed his eyes and nodded.
“Please,” he whispered, and Patrick didn’t need to be asked again. He sat up and popped open the button of his pants before shoving them down over his hips. Beneath him, Mikey was doing the same, shimmying out of his second-skin jeans before kicking the off completely so he was clad only in a pair of boxer briefs.
Patrick leaned back in over Mikey as he pulled his legs from his own jeans one at a time. His hard cock was poking out from the slit in his boxer shorts and Mikey’s fingers encircled it, holding him firmly.
“Oh, shit,” Patrick gasped, dropping down beside Mikey onto his side. At this angle, he could snake his hand into the opening of Mikey’s briefs, the palm of his hand sliding over the soft, taunt skin of Mikey’s cock. Patrick felt Mikey shudder, his head falling back as he pushed up into Patrick’s hand.
Patrick tried to concentrate on Mikey, the way he felt in his hand, similar to when he jerked himself off but completely different. Mikey was tracing circles around the head of Patrick’s cock with the pad of his thumb though, so Patrick could only concentrate so much.
He shifted his hand around to try different angles as he stroked Mikey, paying attention to the sounds Mikey made in response or the way his legs would tremble. Mikey stroked him at the same pace, slow and experimentally, their hands traveling the entire length of the shaft each time.
Ducking his head, Patrick met Mikey’s lips again with his own, kissing him soft in hurried, short kisses as he felt the tension in his stomach grow. As Mikey’s hand quickened its pace, so did Patrick’s, matching it in time.
“Patrick,” Mikey whispered, his voice strangled and Patrick could only grunt in response before he felt Mikey’s cock throbbing in his hand, hot stripes of come streaking his stomach. Patrick snapped his hips against Mikey’s hand a couple quick times and he too was coming, a low groan emanating in his throat.
Patrick pulled his hand away from Mikey, wiping his palm on the seat of his boxers. Mikey reached over his head to find the tissue box that sat on his nightstand, offering it to Patrick before beginning to clean himself up.
As they lay there, Patrick became more aware of the sweat that had pooled in the creases of his hips and the back of his knees, cooling him down. He moved closer to Mikey for warmth, and Mikey scooted in next to Patrick, his eyes closed and a content smile on his face.
“I don’t have a problem with you being bi,” Mikey said at last, causing Patrick to break into laughter.
“I should hope not,” Patrick replied. “Or we would have to have a really awkward discussion about what just happened.”
Mikey was silent for a time and Patrick just listened to him taking even breaths. “So we don’t have to have an awkward discussion now?” Mikey asked.
“Awkward?” Patrick repeated. “No. If you want to talk about it, we can. Maybe we should.”
Mikey opened his eyes and met Patrick’s eyes. “I’m not sure if there’s much to talk about. I obviously like you,” he said, smiling softly at Patrick.
“Well, I obviously like you, too,” Patrick replied. “Uh, sorry again for me being such an idiot about things. I’m kind of-“
Mikey reached up quickly, pressing a finger to Patrick’s lips. “Don’t,” he cautioned. “Don’t say anything bad about yourself. I’ll beat up anyone who says bad things about you, including you.”
Patrick smirked at that. “Yeah?” he asked, amused. “You and what army?”
“I’m a tough guy, remember?” Mikey asked, lazily lifting one arm and flexing it weakly. “Like Popeye.”
Part 3