Fic: In Record Time (Part 1 of 4)
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,032
Posted To: peterickfics, patrickxpeter
Betaed By: vengeance_81
Summary: AU. Patrick works in a record store pretty much by himself until Pete is hired, and turns out to be more of a nuisance than an actual help.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. Any resemblance to real events or people, other than the obviously intended, is entirely coincidental.
Notes: I apologize for the corny title. Really, I do.
Patrick had worked at the same record store for almost five years.
Soon after he’d turned sixteen, Patrick had decided that he needed a job. He needed money to buy records (which he bought like crack), so a record store seemed like the perfect place. Greg Anderson, now his boss, was an old family friend who just happened to be opening such a store, and the opportunity presented itself.
The store, named Erratic Munitions as an attention-grabber, was a small, self-owned place tucked into a corner of downtown Chicago. Patrick had seen over a dozen employees come and go, along with two near-bankruptcies, but had stuck with the store. Although not very publicized, it had a handful of loyal patrons, mostly musicians involved in the local hardcore scene. Which only made sense, because the store sold mainly hardcore music by bands that needed maybe a little more publicity.
Over the last two years, Greg, who was on first-name terms with Patrick and like a third father at this point, got a job at an insurance company. He seemed to have lost interest in the store and stopped hiring new employees. Greg only met with Patrick around once every two weeks to discuss finances.
Despite the owner’s apparent lack of faith, the store was like Patrick’s baby. He worked there full-time (and often unpaid overtime) by himself. Patrick alphabetized the records every day and dusted them once a week. It was practically his store by now.
So imagine his surprise when one morning, on his way to open the store, he found it with the lights on and people inside.
Through the window, Patrick could see Greg talking animatedly with someone. The someone had their back turned to Patrick, and it was one of those people that could go for either a guy or a girl. They were wearing a red hoodie with the hood up, and extremely tight black jeans.
Patrick opened the door and walked inside, wanting to know why his boss was at the store. He never came that early. And he was also sort of curious about who the other person was.
The bell on the door dinged, and both Greg and the someone turned to Patrick. The someone was definitely a guy.
“Oh, there you are,” Greg said. The other guy just smiled.
“Um, yeah,” Patrick said. “What’s up?”
“I hired you a coworker,” Greg answered.
Patrick didn’t understand. He certainly thought he was competent enough by himself. He had been solely running the place for almost a year and a half. And who was this new employee, anyway? Why hadn’t he heard about this before?
And most importantly, why was that weird guy here?
Patrick had barely opened his mouth to ask the whereabouts of the so-called “coworker” when the unknown guy approached him. He was skinny and wiry, with olive skin and dyed-black hair that peeked out from under his hood. He was also wearing thick black eyeliner.
“Hi,” the guy said in a slightly rough voice. “I’m Pete.” He stuck out his hand to Patrick. His nails were painted a characteristic black, and the polish was badly chipped.
And then it hit Patrick: this was the coworker.
Surprised as he was, Patrick shook the proffered hand. “Uh, Patrick.”
Pete was small, but his grip was strong. He grinned, revealing a mouth full of large, horsy teeth. “I know. Greg told me all about you.”
Patrick was slightly concerned about how Pete was throwing around his new boss’s first name, but he was much more worried about what Greg might have said about him. “What did he say?” he asked, looking sideways at Greg, who conveniently averted his gaze.
“You love music,” Pete began, “and you’re obsessed with this store. Plus, you’re single.”
Patrick rolled his eyes at that one. Greg knew all about Patrick’s recent breakup with his girlfriend of four years, but he also knew that Patrick wasn’t anywhere near desperate enough to start seeking out guys. Unfortunately, Pete probably didn’t know that, and Patrick was pretty sure that Pete had seen or at least looked for a guy or two in the past.
“Anyway,” Greg said, breaking Patrick’s train of thought, “I have to go. I have a meeting in…” He checked is watch. “Ten minutes. Patrick, you can help Pete if he has any questions, right?”
“Sure,” Patrick answered.
“All right. Thanks. Bye!” Greg said, leaving and closing the door behind him.
Once he was gone, Pete spoke up. “Okay, what do we do now?”
“Um…” Patrick began, racking his brain for a menial task that Pete could do. “You can check the phone messages. And write them down.”
“Sure,” Pete said. Then he looked around. “But where’s the phone?”
“On the counter,” Patrick answered, feeling stupid answering such an obvious question. “There should also be a pad of paper in one of the drawers.”
“Awesome,” Pete said, smiling a horsy grin. “Thanks.”
Patrick grunted in acknowledgement and went to organize the records. Inwardly, he sighed. He wasn’t very good at dealing with other people in a workplace. He mostly kept to himself, so that’s why he was good at working alone. He actually enjoyed it.
Out of the corner of his eye, Patrick looked at Pete. He was sitting on the counter, with the phone receiver held against his shoulder. The pad of paper was positioned in his lap, and Pete had a pen poised over it. His legs were dangling off the side of the counter, and he was swinging them childishly.
“Hey, Patrick?” he asked, looking up from the paper.
“Hmm?” Patrick asked, fishing a “T” CD out of the “E” section.
“What’s the voicemail password?”
“Twenty-two thirty-seven.”
“Thanks, Pete said, dialing on the phone. Then he held it up to his ear and frowned. “It says it’s wrong.”
Patrick sighed. “You need to type a star at the end.”
“Oh. Okay.” Pete redialed the password, and returned the phone to his shoulder. He grinned and gave Patrick a thumbs-up, then began scribbling on the notepad.
Patrick turned back to the CDs. He had a feeling that Pete could end up being just a big pain in the ass.
( Part 2 )
( Part 3 )
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,032
Posted To: peterickfics, patrickxpeter
Betaed By: vengeance_81
Summary: AU. Patrick works in a record store pretty much by himself until Pete is hired, and turns out to be more of a nuisance than an actual help.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. Any resemblance to real events or people, other than the obviously intended, is entirely coincidental.
Notes: I apologize for the corny title. Really, I do.
Patrick had worked at the same record store for almost five years.
Soon after he’d turned sixteen, Patrick had decided that he needed a job. He needed money to buy records (which he bought like crack), so a record store seemed like the perfect place. Greg Anderson, now his boss, was an old family friend who just happened to be opening such a store, and the opportunity presented itself.
The store, named Erratic Munitions as an attention-grabber, was a small, self-owned place tucked into a corner of downtown Chicago. Patrick had seen over a dozen employees come and go, along with two near-bankruptcies, but had stuck with the store. Although not very publicized, it had a handful of loyal patrons, mostly musicians involved in the local hardcore scene. Which only made sense, because the store sold mainly hardcore music by bands that needed maybe a little more publicity.
Over the last two years, Greg, who was on first-name terms with Patrick and like a third father at this point, got a job at an insurance company. He seemed to have lost interest in the store and stopped hiring new employees. Greg only met with Patrick around once every two weeks to discuss finances.
Despite the owner’s apparent lack of faith, the store was like Patrick’s baby. He worked there full-time (and often unpaid overtime) by himself. Patrick alphabetized the records every day and dusted them once a week. It was practically his store by now.
So imagine his surprise when one morning, on his way to open the store, he found it with the lights on and people inside.
Through the window, Patrick could see Greg talking animatedly with someone. The someone had their back turned to Patrick, and it was one of those people that could go for either a guy or a girl. They were wearing a red hoodie with the hood up, and extremely tight black jeans.
Patrick opened the door and walked inside, wanting to know why his boss was at the store. He never came that early. And he was also sort of curious about who the other person was.
The bell on the door dinged, and both Greg and the someone turned to Patrick. The someone was definitely a guy.
“Oh, there you are,” Greg said. The other guy just smiled.
“Um, yeah,” Patrick said. “What’s up?”
“I hired you a coworker,” Greg answered.
Patrick didn’t understand. He certainly thought he was competent enough by himself. He had been solely running the place for almost a year and a half. And who was this new employee, anyway? Why hadn’t he heard about this before?
And most importantly, why was that weird guy here?
Patrick had barely opened his mouth to ask the whereabouts of the so-called “coworker” when the unknown guy approached him. He was skinny and wiry, with olive skin and dyed-black hair that peeked out from under his hood. He was also wearing thick black eyeliner.
“Hi,” the guy said in a slightly rough voice. “I’m Pete.” He stuck out his hand to Patrick. His nails were painted a characteristic black, and the polish was badly chipped.
And then it hit Patrick: this was the coworker.
Surprised as he was, Patrick shook the proffered hand. “Uh, Patrick.”
Pete was small, but his grip was strong. He grinned, revealing a mouth full of large, horsy teeth. “I know. Greg told me all about you.”
Patrick was slightly concerned about how Pete was throwing around his new boss’s first name, but he was much more worried about what Greg might have said about him. “What did he say?” he asked, looking sideways at Greg, who conveniently averted his gaze.
“You love music,” Pete began, “and you’re obsessed with this store. Plus, you’re single.”
Patrick rolled his eyes at that one. Greg knew all about Patrick’s recent breakup with his girlfriend of four years, but he also knew that Patrick wasn’t anywhere near desperate enough to start seeking out guys. Unfortunately, Pete probably didn’t know that, and Patrick was pretty sure that Pete had seen or at least looked for a guy or two in the past.
“Anyway,” Greg said, breaking Patrick’s train of thought, “I have to go. I have a meeting in…” He checked is watch. “Ten minutes. Patrick, you can help Pete if he has any questions, right?”
“Sure,” Patrick answered.
“All right. Thanks. Bye!” Greg said, leaving and closing the door behind him.
Once he was gone, Pete spoke up. “Okay, what do we do now?”
“Um…” Patrick began, racking his brain for a menial task that Pete could do. “You can check the phone messages. And write them down.”
“Sure,” Pete said. Then he looked around. “But where’s the phone?”
“On the counter,” Patrick answered, feeling stupid answering such an obvious question. “There should also be a pad of paper in one of the drawers.”
“Awesome,” Pete said, smiling a horsy grin. “Thanks.”
Patrick grunted in acknowledgement and went to organize the records. Inwardly, he sighed. He wasn’t very good at dealing with other people in a workplace. He mostly kept to himself, so that’s why he was good at working alone. He actually enjoyed it.
Out of the corner of his eye, Patrick looked at Pete. He was sitting on the counter, with the phone receiver held against his shoulder. The pad of paper was positioned in his lap, and Pete had a pen poised over it. His legs were dangling off the side of the counter, and he was swinging them childishly.
“Hey, Patrick?” he asked, looking up from the paper.
“Hmm?” Patrick asked, fishing a “T” CD out of the “E” section.
“What’s the voicemail password?”
“Twenty-two thirty-seven.”
“Thanks, Pete said, dialing on the phone. Then he held it up to his ear and frowned. “It says it’s wrong.”
Patrick sighed. “You need to type a star at the end.”
“Oh. Okay.” Pete redialed the password, and returned the phone to his shoulder. He grinned and gave Patrick a thumbs-up, then began scribbling on the notepad.
Patrick turned back to the CDs. He had a feeling that Pete could end up being just a big pain in the ass.
( Part 2 )
( Part 3 )