Drop, Cover and Hold On!
Title: Drop, Cover and Hold On!
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
Word-count: 1359
Summary: Patrick's confession of love is interrupted by some highly inconvenient seismic activity.
Author's Notes: For the patrickxpeter August Weather Mishap Challenge! Thanks to the wonderful smugglers_prize and xo_crashedxcars for not laughing at me their helpful feedback. ♥
Patrick was fed up with Peter Wentz and his continuous 'the world is against me' bullshit attitude. It was getting ridiculous. The more Pete wanted to wallow in self pity, and insist that no one would ever understand him or love him like Jeanae did, a firey determination burned a little brighter in Patrick's heart. The fire was getting too hot to stand.
See, Patrick had come to a certain realization only recently, after so many years of harmless flirting with the boy who had helped shape his whole world. He'd thought it was just best-friendship, but then Patrick found that it was he who suffered most when Pete went back and forth from girl to girl, break-up after break-up. And all that heartache told him that it was more than just concern for a good buddy's feelings. This wasn't compassion, this was envy and jealousy combined.
Patrick was in love with Pete. Patrick was the one for him.
And Patrick was going to tell him. Today. Somehow.
He hadn't actually planned much beyond that. He just knew that if he didn't stick to his resolve, it would never get done. And Patrick is a dude who likes to get things done.
Pete had been spending way too much time locked away in his new Hollywood Hills house with only his new puppy and the internet for company. When Patrick was suddenly invited up to hang out for the afternoon, he naturally jumped at the chance. They would be together, just them. Alone. That's when he decided that today would be the day. They were taking a day off from recording, and Patrick drove his little rented car from his cozy temporary apartment up into the hills to Pete's significantly more spacious abode.
As he pulled in the driveway, Patrick's body was tense, muscles tied into knots. He didn't want to waste any time. This would be it. There was no stopping him now.
Pete, ever the gracious host, answered the door by yelling "It's open!" from roughly somewhere in the living room. Always polite, Patrick paused to kick off his shoes, and then pushed on in, stopping when he reached the main hallway to steel himself for what he was about to do.
"It's me," he announced. Pete should know better than to let just anyone walk into his house. He could be some psycho. Or worse, a rabid fan.
"Come in here, man! I can't get up. Hemmy's all comfortable."
Patrick walked further into the house, and appeared in the living room, ending up behind the couch. Pete was typing away on his laptop with one hand and scratching behind his puppy's ear with the other. Despite everything he'd been saying lately, Pete looked surprisingly content.
"So, I need to tell you something." Patrick leaned against the back of the sofa, looking down at his friend. He could hardly breathe.
Pete leaned back, and looked up-up-and-over. "What's up? You sound serious."
"I am."
"What's this about?" Pete knitted his brows. He'd had a little too much seriousness in his life these days.
Patrick walked around to the other side of the couch and offered a hand to help Pete stand up. "This isn't the kind of news that you tell a person they should be sitting down for. I need you on your feet."
Pete took Patrick's hand, and was hauled up easily. When he tried to pull his hand away, Patrick held on to it, tightly. The moment began to feel drawn out, like it would spin out of his control if he let go too soon. If he thought about it, he wouldn't do it. And that's when Patrick yanked Pete closer. That's when Patrick kissed him, hard. Even against Pete's surprised mouth, for Patrick, it was a long-overdue kiss that had big sparkly fireworks and a violin-filled score and knees buckling. Pete understood the significance of the gesture, slowly melted into him, and thankfully, started kissing back. Floodgates opened, rockets took off.
And that's when the ground shook.
(That part wasn't a metaphor.)
Patrick broke the kiss almost as unexpectedly as he'd started it. Pete was gaping at him, wide-eyed and panting and surprised. "What..!" Pete sounded more than a little disappointed.
"Did you feel that?" Patrick was proud of himself for doing what he came to do, and to such a warm reception, but he was suddenly very aware of the rest of the world.
Pete blinked once, twice. "You mean, did I feel that exceptionally hot kiss? Patrick, I-- That is, when--" They were still holding hands.
Patrick blushed faintly, smiled, and the ground began to shake again. Significantly more that time. "No, THAT!" Patrick squeezed Pete's hand and Hemingway barked a small nervous bark.
Coming from the mid-west, they'd only heard of the sometimes-frequency of earthquakes in Southern California, but they'd never experienced one, 'til now. Pete's house didn't stop shaking so quickly this time. Posters and photos rattled and fell off walls, and Pete had only just begun to decorate, after living there over a month.
"What the hell do we do?!" Pete found himself shouting over the racket.
Patrick, losing his balance, slid down the wall to sit on the floor. He was shaking right along with the house, more nervous now than he had been walking through the door. Pete, on the other hand, was beaming, and scooped up his puppy with his free hand. He loved any kind of adventure.
"I think we're supposed to get under a desk or something," Patrick yelled up at him, "but all of your furniture is from fucking Ikea! Just get down here, away from your zillion windows."
The TV remote clattered across the coffee table, and Pete's half-filled glass of pink lemonade toppled off the edge and shattered on the floor.
Obediently, Pete dropped down beside Patrick, and leaned heavily on him, pressing his face into Patrick's shoulder. The vibrations continued for what felt like ages and then stopped. The whole thing had only really lasted about a minute, maybe less.
Everything felt unusually quiet for a moment, even though, in truth, there was a din of car alarms coming from outside, including Patrick's rental. He made a move to get up and disarm it, but Pete's warm breath on his neck kept him sitting on the floor, knees drawn up, his tense face relaxing into a slow smile.
Hemingway wriggled from Pete's arms and went to investigate how his bowl of kibble had held up, apparently unfazed by the mighty show Mother Nature just put on for the city of Los Angeles.
Time to face the music. "Listen, Pete," Patrick started, choosing his words carefully. "About, uh, that kiss..."
Pete sat up straighter, leaning his head back onto the wall. "Yeah, about that!"
Patrick stared intently at the broken glass, the lemonade pooled on the hardwood flooring. "What I meant by that was--"
"You're totally into me? You wanna jump me?"
Always so damn blunt. Patrick coughed slightly. The truth couldn't hurt him now. "Basically, yes. That's one way of putting it."
Pete pushed his face back into his friend's shoulder, slightly muffling his words. "I've been hoping that was why you've been staring at me lately. But, you didn't say anything, even after Jeanae left, so eventually I thought that I'd just been imagining it to make myself feel better."
Patrick didn't quite know what to say to that except "Oh." Was he really that transparent? A new stain of blush crept into his pale cheeks, but then that strange impulsive feeling came crawling in with it. Hadn't Pete kissed him back? Courage rushed into his heart, and trickled slowly through his body. "You wouldn't want to pick up where we left off, would you?"
Faces lifted, turned toward each other. Nervous smiles were exchanged, eyes halfway closed. When their lips met the second time, neither boy was troubled by the ground trembling slightly beneath them. Logic, science and seismographs explained it as a series of aftershocks, but Patrick secretly hoped that it was his doing, and that all future Pete-kisses could feel that same way.
###
See original comments here.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
Word-count: 1359
Summary: Patrick's confession of love is interrupted by some highly inconvenient seismic activity.
Author's Notes: For the patrickxpeter August Weather Mishap Challenge! Thanks to the wonderful smugglers_prize and xo_crashedxcars for not laughing at me their helpful feedback. ♥
Patrick was fed up with Peter Wentz and his continuous 'the world is against me' bullshit attitude. It was getting ridiculous. The more Pete wanted to wallow in self pity, and insist that no one would ever understand him or love him like Jeanae did, a firey determination burned a little brighter in Patrick's heart. The fire was getting too hot to stand.
See, Patrick had come to a certain realization only recently, after so many years of harmless flirting with the boy who had helped shape his whole world. He'd thought it was just best-friendship, but then Patrick found that it was he who suffered most when Pete went back and forth from girl to girl, break-up after break-up. And all that heartache told him that it was more than just concern for a good buddy's feelings. This wasn't compassion, this was envy and jealousy combined.
Patrick was in love with Pete. Patrick was the one for him.
And Patrick was going to tell him. Today. Somehow.
He hadn't actually planned much beyond that. He just knew that if he didn't stick to his resolve, it would never get done. And Patrick is a dude who likes to get things done.
Pete had been spending way too much time locked away in his new Hollywood Hills house with only his new puppy and the internet for company. When Patrick was suddenly invited up to hang out for the afternoon, he naturally jumped at the chance. They would be together, just them. Alone. That's when he decided that today would be the day. They were taking a day off from recording, and Patrick drove his little rented car from his cozy temporary apartment up into the hills to Pete's significantly more spacious abode.
As he pulled in the driveway, Patrick's body was tense, muscles tied into knots. He didn't want to waste any time. This would be it. There was no stopping him now.
Pete, ever the gracious host, answered the door by yelling "It's open!" from roughly somewhere in the living room. Always polite, Patrick paused to kick off his shoes, and then pushed on in, stopping when he reached the main hallway to steel himself for what he was about to do.
"It's me," he announced. Pete should know better than to let just anyone walk into his house. He could be some psycho. Or worse, a rabid fan.
"Come in here, man! I can't get up. Hemmy's all comfortable."
Patrick walked further into the house, and appeared in the living room, ending up behind the couch. Pete was typing away on his laptop with one hand and scratching behind his puppy's ear with the other. Despite everything he'd been saying lately, Pete looked surprisingly content.
"So, I need to tell you something." Patrick leaned against the back of the sofa, looking down at his friend. He could hardly breathe.
Pete leaned back, and looked up-up-and-over. "What's up? You sound serious."
"I am."
"What's this about?" Pete knitted his brows. He'd had a little too much seriousness in his life these days.
Patrick walked around to the other side of the couch and offered a hand to help Pete stand up. "This isn't the kind of news that you tell a person they should be sitting down for. I need you on your feet."
Pete took Patrick's hand, and was hauled up easily. When he tried to pull his hand away, Patrick held on to it, tightly. The moment began to feel drawn out, like it would spin out of his control if he let go too soon. If he thought about it, he wouldn't do it. And that's when Patrick yanked Pete closer. That's when Patrick kissed him, hard. Even against Pete's surprised mouth, for Patrick, it was a long-overdue kiss that had big sparkly fireworks and a violin-filled score and knees buckling. Pete understood the significance of the gesture, slowly melted into him, and thankfully, started kissing back. Floodgates opened, rockets took off.
And that's when the ground shook.
(That part wasn't a metaphor.)
Patrick broke the kiss almost as unexpectedly as he'd started it. Pete was gaping at him, wide-eyed and panting and surprised. "What..!" Pete sounded more than a little disappointed.
"Did you feel that?" Patrick was proud of himself for doing what he came to do, and to such a warm reception, but he was suddenly very aware of the rest of the world.
Pete blinked once, twice. "You mean, did I feel that exceptionally hot kiss? Patrick, I-- That is, when--" They were still holding hands.
Patrick blushed faintly, smiled, and the ground began to shake again. Significantly more that time. "No, THAT!" Patrick squeezed Pete's hand and Hemingway barked a small nervous bark.
Coming from the mid-west, they'd only heard of the sometimes-frequency of earthquakes in Southern California, but they'd never experienced one, 'til now. Pete's house didn't stop shaking so quickly this time. Posters and photos rattled and fell off walls, and Pete had only just begun to decorate, after living there over a month.
"What the hell do we do?!" Pete found himself shouting over the racket.
Patrick, losing his balance, slid down the wall to sit on the floor. He was shaking right along with the house, more nervous now than he had been walking through the door. Pete, on the other hand, was beaming, and scooped up his puppy with his free hand. He loved any kind of adventure.
"I think we're supposed to get under a desk or something," Patrick yelled up at him, "but all of your furniture is from fucking Ikea! Just get down here, away from your zillion windows."
The TV remote clattered across the coffee table, and Pete's half-filled glass of pink lemonade toppled off the edge and shattered on the floor.
Obediently, Pete dropped down beside Patrick, and leaned heavily on him, pressing his face into Patrick's shoulder. The vibrations continued for what felt like ages and then stopped. The whole thing had only really lasted about a minute, maybe less.
Everything felt unusually quiet for a moment, even though, in truth, there was a din of car alarms coming from outside, including Patrick's rental. He made a move to get up and disarm it, but Pete's warm breath on his neck kept him sitting on the floor, knees drawn up, his tense face relaxing into a slow smile.
Hemingway wriggled from Pete's arms and went to investigate how his bowl of kibble had held up, apparently unfazed by the mighty show Mother Nature just put on for the city of Los Angeles.
Time to face the music. "Listen, Pete," Patrick started, choosing his words carefully. "About, uh, that kiss..."
Pete sat up straighter, leaning his head back onto the wall. "Yeah, about that!"
Patrick stared intently at the broken glass, the lemonade pooled on the hardwood flooring. "What I meant by that was--"
"You're totally into me? You wanna jump me?"
Always so damn blunt. Patrick coughed slightly. The truth couldn't hurt him now. "Basically, yes. That's one way of putting it."
Pete pushed his face back into his friend's shoulder, slightly muffling his words. "I've been hoping that was why you've been staring at me lately. But, you didn't say anything, even after Jeanae left, so eventually I thought that I'd just been imagining it to make myself feel better."
Patrick didn't quite know what to say to that except "Oh." Was he really that transparent? A new stain of blush crept into his pale cheeks, but then that strange impulsive feeling came crawling in with it. Hadn't Pete kissed him back? Courage rushed into his heart, and trickled slowly through his body. "You wouldn't want to pick up where we left off, would you?"
Faces lifted, turned toward each other. Nervous smiles were exchanged, eyes halfway closed. When their lips met the second time, neither boy was troubled by the ground trembling slightly beneath them. Logic, science and seismographs explained it as a series of aftershocks, but Patrick secretly hoped that it was his doing, and that all future Pete-kisses could feel that same way.
###
See original comments here.