Right in front of your eyes.
Title: Right in front of your eyes.
Rating: R for nudity + language.
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
Word-count: 2160
Summary: From the prompt "But you can see me, right?"-- Pete is somehow invisible.
Author's Notes: Written for my dear gamblore for the first patrickxpeter Ficathon, who I hope will forgive me for taking so long to post this. Also, yes, I recognize the similarities to a certain season one episode of "Buffy," but I promise it was unintentional!
"But... but, you can see me, right?!"
Patrick screwed up his eyes and squinted, hoping some small part of Peter would be discernable. But, no. "I can't, Pete. I think that's pretty much the definition of 'invisible'." He frowned, trying to contain his fear.
And while Patrick couldn't see it, Pete was shaking. He could see himself, so... what?! Scared and deeply confused, Pete quickly scanned the room for a reflective surface-- a spoon, a darkened window, anything. Ah, there. Pete knelt in front of the small tour bus microwave; there should be a hazy mirrored image of his own frantic face.
Patrick wasn't a good-enough liar to take a joke this far. Even Andy and Joe and the tour crew had behaved as it they couldn't see him. Pete had walked through the backstage area of the venue they were meant to be playing in, and had stood next to Joe for a good five minutes before hearing him ask a passing roadie if he'd seen Pete anywhere. He was too surprised to speak up, and went to look for Patrick.
Patrick wouldn't fuck with his head.
It was as though he was... oh, god. He WAS. Invisible. Feeling like a CGI special effect, Pete looked blankly at the microwave door and saw only the dark shapes and reflected light of the bus kitchen, and Patrick.
Oh, Patrick. He was standing, but just barely. Leaning heavily on the narrow countertop, it looked as though he might faint at any moment. Despite his panic, Pete reached out a helping hand to steady him. Patrick let out a sharp yelp.
"Pete..! Don't sneak up on me like that." Patrick frowned even deeper, but was more shaken than angry. Pete was still solid, he was real, and his hands were warm. To Patrick, this said not a ghost, at least, but that didn't really help. Not much.
Pete mumbled an apology.
"It's just... holy shit, Pete. I mean, really!" Catching himself on the verge of fully freaking out, Patrick lowered his voice to a less frantic level. "When was the last time someone acknowledged you? Spoke to you?" If Patrick was anything, it was somewhat level-headed in a crisis. Pete, on the other hand, was practically in tears from the strange sight in the microwave. Reflective, but not. He was like a vampire. Pete suddenly felt closer to his 'Sixteen Candles' character than ever before.
Patrick reached out in front of him, blindly, but with wide-open eyes. Pete stepped forward into Patrick's searching hands. "I'm here." Pushing his fingertips into Patrick's chest, Pete slowly made his presence known, felt. It was a very peculiar sensation, those warm hands so near to Patrick's heart. It was like a dream, unreal. There had to be some explanation here, because this just didn't happen.
Lifting his arms up, experimentally, Patrick folded them around what looked like air, but felt remarkably like his best friend Peter, who kissed him sometimes. Or used to. There had to be something...
"Andy," Pete said suddenly, half into Patrick's neck. Patrick could feel his breath. "He was the last person I talked to. Last night, before I went to bed."
"Okay. What else?" Puzzle pieces.
"What else what?"
"Pete, you're beyond translucent at this point. Something must have happened that you... that this happened."
"Well, I just went to bed. That's all. When I woke up this morning, I felt totally normal. I still do, in fact. I got up, I showered, I got dressed, and then I went to look around. You were all off the bus already when I woke, or you would have... well, not seen me. I guess." Pete furrowed his invisible brow. "Wait. How does that work?"
"What now?" Patrick was lost, distracted temporarily by Pete's hands slowly, thoughtfully moving over his chest. When was the last time they'd touched?
"I changed clothes. My clothes are invisible too?"
"Oh. I hadn't even thought about that. I was too busy being freaked out by the fact that you yourself had disappeared." Pete pulled away from the mutual comfort of Patrick's arms. "Where are you going?"
"I just need to..." Pete pulled open the divider between the living area and the bunks, reminding Patrick again of his ghostliness. "Yes! Look!" Patrick followed at a wary distance, not so sure if he might knock into Peter with every step. "My clothes from last night, they're here. They're fine."
Patrick looked down at Pete's bunk and gingerly touched the faded flannel pyjama pants. "Uh... huh." This didn't help much either. Or... "If you take off the clothes you're wearing now, will they turn, uh, visible as well? Or maybe they're what made you invisible?"
Peter, no stranger to getting naked in a hurry in Patrick's presence, was already shuffling around in the small space that was the tiny hallway between bunks. He threw his t-shirt off and it fell softly and solidly on the floor, as real as ever. Encouraged by this, Pete pulled off his shoes, socks, jeans. No underwear today, none were clean enough. The pile of totally-visible clothes grew, and Patrick's eyes only widened.
He had never been too keen on science, but this simply didn't make any kind of logical sense. This was the stuff of superheroes and bad Kevin Bacon movies. This was the kind of thing that people were abducted by the government for, who administered painful tests and quietly covered things up. Or so Patrick had seen on TV. This needed to be fixed, understood. He was worried.
The pile of clothes. Patrick picked up a shoe and lifted it to the light. He felt Pete leaning over his shoulder, radiating a familiar heat. "Any change?" asked the disembodied voice.
"Dude, it looks fine." A good sign? Maybe.
Pete grabbed the shoe and shoved it on his foot. It promptly disappeared. A stifled gasp, and still more questions. Pete kicked the shoe off again, frustrated, and turned back to Patrick. His Patrick. His embrace had proved an invaluable source of comfort in times passed, so there Pete was again, a curious warm presence. He wrapped his arms securely around Patrick's waist and leaned his head on a solid shoulder. They were both quiet. What could be said at a time like this? Just more questions, just scared, just trying not to panic. They certainly couldn't play tonight. Excuses and apologies would have to be made. They couldn't even wear their big fuzzy animal costumes, with Pete's invisibility apparently spreading to his clothing. And then there was that-- why just Pete's clothes? They were curled together now, standing, breathing... Patrick closed his eyes and it felt all too normal. Or, at least, as normal as it could possibly feel hugging your invisible, not to mention nude, best friend.
That was another thing entirely to feel weird about, honestly. Patrick and Peter were not a couple. But, they were a something. Or had been, before this tour. It started out hot, but out of nowhere, they had cooled down to just stage antics and a slightly-awkward-at-times friendship.
Patrick would never have guessed by Pete's behaviour that he was being missed horribly. And that was exactly was Peter hadn't told Patrick about the night before. He'd been unable to sleep, his usual lovesick self. There Patrick was-- just across the way with only a couple of flimsy curtains blocking him from view, just a few feet of distance. But he might as well have been miles away, for the amount of attention that Patrick had been showing Pete lately. Sure, yes, Pete knew it was his fault. He'd pulled back first, but it wasn't that he didn't feel the same way. He'd been feeling too much. And now, he'd fucked up. There was nothing. He was aching for Patrick to come back to him. Instead, in their estrangement, Patrick had been hanging out more and more with Andy.
Peter was jealous, and... Okay. He'd thought about it more than once lately. Especially last night. Patrick was ignoring him whenever possible, and Pete had been starting to feel, well, invisible.
And now? Shit.
Pete tightened his embrace, trying to will his body to merge with Patrick's. And oh, Patrick could feel this boy pressing into him, and one part of invisible/naked Pete in particular. His breath caught. "Pete?"
A quiet "Yeah, 'Trick?" came in reply. Pete didn't want to move away. His legs felt a bit gelatinous, but who knew when he could hug Patrick again for so long, in such a comfortable moment, where both wanted it to be happening? Pete felt Patrick step back half an inch, but his hands remained linked behind Pete's lower back.
"What happened to us?" Patrick didn't blush when Pete closed the gap between them and pressed into him again.
Pete spoke into Patrick's warm, pale neck. "I've been stupid. I've missed you." There were no eyes to avoid, not that Patrick's were ever accusatory where Pete was involved. He could let it out, now. "I felt myself getting... I don't know. Too attached." A deep breath. "I felt myself falling in love, and I'm not very good at that."
Patrick kept his eyes closed, processing this new information as his stomach filled with sharp-winged butterflies. He didn't want to open them only to not see where those words came from. It would be as if they'd been imagined. He tried not to melt. "So, you thought that pulling away was easier than just talking to me about it?" He ran his hands over Pete's back. It certainly felt like he was all there.
"I was just being fucking stupid, thinking 'What if it isn't right?', 'What if we were only meant to be friends?' 'Trick, I trust you, and you know me better than anyone else... but, I wasn't sure you would understand. You're pretty hard to read sometimes, Patrick."
"You are, too."
"That's just the thing. I didn't want to fuck this up; you're too big a deal. I just wasn't entirely sure that you could..." Pete winced at the reality of his next words. "Really see me."
A pause. Oh.
Pete continued. The words were flooding out now. "Then, it felt like you were ignoring me--"
News to Patrick! "What? Pete, I was never-- You were--"
"I know, I know! Irrational. But, it felt like you were, and I realize that now it was just because I was being a complete dick. How else should you have reacted?"
Patrick nodded into Pete's hair. "You really were being a dick. A huge one. Monstrous." What a fiasco. All of that time wasted, then THIS happens, and what could they do to feasibly fix it? "I'll forgive you, if you promise to be less stupid."
"Are you..." Pete searched for words that wouldn't sound ridiculous. He was unusually hesitant, when he was so good at feigning confidence. "Are you okay with having an invisible boyfriend?" He was starting to feel better about all this.
Patrick cracked a small smile. "I'd prefer it if you weren't, but I can adjust with time." Oh right, show tonight. "Not sure how we're going to explain it to everyone else, though." Well, whatever. They were fucked, either way. This was slightly more serious.
"I wish you'd said something sooner, before it got so out of hand. I would have..." What? Listened? Loved him back? Smothered him with kisses? All of the above? Novel idea. Patrick felt his way up to Pete's jaw, and willed himself to keep his eyes firmly closed. Don't ruin it now, not now. Warm breath, noses nuzzled, and then there were rough lips and insistent tongues and clenching hands. It had been much too long.
It was so easy to go on sense memory, and opening his eyes would only disorient him. He could get used to this. If Pete was going to be invisible, Patrick would be blind.
"What the hell is going on back here?!" Joe broke their heavy silence as he stormed through the bus. Patrick froze; a dark blush crept up his cheeks, picturing how this must look to an outsider. Patrick had been caught making out with his practically-imaginary best friend. But-- Joe: "Pete, put some fucking clothes on. We've been looking all over for you!"
Patrick's eyelids snapped open. There he was, just as real as he'd ever been. Pete didn't move. He was leaning against Patrick, breathing hard and smiling harder.
"Pete, I can see you," Patrick mumbled into his ear, drinking in all that delicious golden skin. It didn't matter how it had happened. All that mattered now was that Pete was back and a feast for the eyes.
Pete stepped back and glared at the back of a departing Joe's shaking head. "Yeah." Things were going to work out fine. He looked back into Patrick's all-seeing eyes ("You sure can.") before leaning back in for another kiss.
###
See original comments here.
Rating: R for nudity + language.
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
Word-count: 2160
Summary: From the prompt "But you can see me, right?"-- Pete is somehow invisible.
Author's Notes: Written for my dear gamblore for the first patrickxpeter Ficathon, who I hope will forgive me for taking so long to post this. Also, yes, I recognize the similarities to a certain season one episode of "Buffy," but I promise it was unintentional!
"But... but, you can see me, right?!"
Patrick screwed up his eyes and squinted, hoping some small part of Peter would be discernable. But, no. "I can't, Pete. I think that's pretty much the definition of 'invisible'." He frowned, trying to contain his fear.
And while Patrick couldn't see it, Pete was shaking. He could see himself, so... what?! Scared and deeply confused, Pete quickly scanned the room for a reflective surface-- a spoon, a darkened window, anything. Ah, there. Pete knelt in front of the small tour bus microwave; there should be a hazy mirrored image of his own frantic face.
Patrick wasn't a good-enough liar to take a joke this far. Even Andy and Joe and the tour crew had behaved as it they couldn't see him. Pete had walked through the backstage area of the venue they were meant to be playing in, and had stood next to Joe for a good five minutes before hearing him ask a passing roadie if he'd seen Pete anywhere. He was too surprised to speak up, and went to look for Patrick.
Patrick wouldn't fuck with his head.
It was as though he was... oh, god. He WAS. Invisible. Feeling like a CGI special effect, Pete looked blankly at the microwave door and saw only the dark shapes and reflected light of the bus kitchen, and Patrick.
Oh, Patrick. He was standing, but just barely. Leaning heavily on the narrow countertop, it looked as though he might faint at any moment. Despite his panic, Pete reached out a helping hand to steady him. Patrick let out a sharp yelp.
"Pete..! Don't sneak up on me like that." Patrick frowned even deeper, but was more shaken than angry. Pete was still solid, he was real, and his hands were warm. To Patrick, this said not a ghost, at least, but that didn't really help. Not much.
Pete mumbled an apology.
"It's just... holy shit, Pete. I mean, really!" Catching himself on the verge of fully freaking out, Patrick lowered his voice to a less frantic level. "When was the last time someone acknowledged you? Spoke to you?" If Patrick was anything, it was somewhat level-headed in a crisis. Pete, on the other hand, was practically in tears from the strange sight in the microwave. Reflective, but not. He was like a vampire. Pete suddenly felt closer to his 'Sixteen Candles' character than ever before.
Patrick reached out in front of him, blindly, but with wide-open eyes. Pete stepped forward into Patrick's searching hands. "I'm here." Pushing his fingertips into Patrick's chest, Pete slowly made his presence known, felt. It was a very peculiar sensation, those warm hands so near to Patrick's heart. It was like a dream, unreal. There had to be some explanation here, because this just didn't happen.
Lifting his arms up, experimentally, Patrick folded them around what looked like air, but felt remarkably like his best friend Peter, who kissed him sometimes. Or used to. There had to be something...
"Andy," Pete said suddenly, half into Patrick's neck. Patrick could feel his breath. "He was the last person I talked to. Last night, before I went to bed."
"Okay. What else?" Puzzle pieces.
"What else what?"
"Pete, you're beyond translucent at this point. Something must have happened that you... that this happened."
"Well, I just went to bed. That's all. When I woke up this morning, I felt totally normal. I still do, in fact. I got up, I showered, I got dressed, and then I went to look around. You were all off the bus already when I woke, or you would have... well, not seen me. I guess." Pete furrowed his invisible brow. "Wait. How does that work?"
"What now?" Patrick was lost, distracted temporarily by Pete's hands slowly, thoughtfully moving over his chest. When was the last time they'd touched?
"I changed clothes. My clothes are invisible too?"
"Oh. I hadn't even thought about that. I was too busy being freaked out by the fact that you yourself had disappeared." Pete pulled away from the mutual comfort of Patrick's arms. "Where are you going?"
"I just need to..." Pete pulled open the divider between the living area and the bunks, reminding Patrick again of his ghostliness. "Yes! Look!" Patrick followed at a wary distance, not so sure if he might knock into Peter with every step. "My clothes from last night, they're here. They're fine."
Patrick looked down at Pete's bunk and gingerly touched the faded flannel pyjama pants. "Uh... huh." This didn't help much either. Or... "If you take off the clothes you're wearing now, will they turn, uh, visible as well? Or maybe they're what made you invisible?"
Peter, no stranger to getting naked in a hurry in Patrick's presence, was already shuffling around in the small space that was the tiny hallway between bunks. He threw his t-shirt off and it fell softly and solidly on the floor, as real as ever. Encouraged by this, Pete pulled off his shoes, socks, jeans. No underwear today, none were clean enough. The pile of totally-visible clothes grew, and Patrick's eyes only widened.
He had never been too keen on science, but this simply didn't make any kind of logical sense. This was the stuff of superheroes and bad Kevin Bacon movies. This was the kind of thing that people were abducted by the government for, who administered painful tests and quietly covered things up. Or so Patrick had seen on TV. This needed to be fixed, understood. He was worried.
The pile of clothes. Patrick picked up a shoe and lifted it to the light. He felt Pete leaning over his shoulder, radiating a familiar heat. "Any change?" asked the disembodied voice.
"Dude, it looks fine." A good sign? Maybe.
Pete grabbed the shoe and shoved it on his foot. It promptly disappeared. A stifled gasp, and still more questions. Pete kicked the shoe off again, frustrated, and turned back to Patrick. His Patrick. His embrace had proved an invaluable source of comfort in times passed, so there Pete was again, a curious warm presence. He wrapped his arms securely around Patrick's waist and leaned his head on a solid shoulder. They were both quiet. What could be said at a time like this? Just more questions, just scared, just trying not to panic. They certainly couldn't play tonight. Excuses and apologies would have to be made. They couldn't even wear their big fuzzy animal costumes, with Pete's invisibility apparently spreading to his clothing. And then there was that-- why just Pete's clothes? They were curled together now, standing, breathing... Patrick closed his eyes and it felt all too normal. Or, at least, as normal as it could possibly feel hugging your invisible, not to mention nude, best friend.
That was another thing entirely to feel weird about, honestly. Patrick and Peter were not a couple. But, they were a something. Or had been, before this tour. It started out hot, but out of nowhere, they had cooled down to just stage antics and a slightly-awkward-at-times friendship.
Patrick would never have guessed by Pete's behaviour that he was being missed horribly. And that was exactly was Peter hadn't told Patrick about the night before. He'd been unable to sleep, his usual lovesick self. There Patrick was-- just across the way with only a couple of flimsy curtains blocking him from view, just a few feet of distance. But he might as well have been miles away, for the amount of attention that Patrick had been showing Pete lately. Sure, yes, Pete knew it was his fault. He'd pulled back first, but it wasn't that he didn't feel the same way. He'd been feeling too much. And now, he'd fucked up. There was nothing. He was aching for Patrick to come back to him. Instead, in their estrangement, Patrick had been hanging out more and more with Andy.
Peter was jealous, and... Okay. He'd thought about it more than once lately. Especially last night. Patrick was ignoring him whenever possible, and Pete had been starting to feel, well, invisible.
And now? Shit.
Pete tightened his embrace, trying to will his body to merge with Patrick's. And oh, Patrick could feel this boy pressing into him, and one part of invisible/naked Pete in particular. His breath caught. "Pete?"
A quiet "Yeah, 'Trick?" came in reply. Pete didn't want to move away. His legs felt a bit gelatinous, but who knew when he could hug Patrick again for so long, in such a comfortable moment, where both wanted it to be happening? Pete felt Patrick step back half an inch, but his hands remained linked behind Pete's lower back.
"What happened to us?" Patrick didn't blush when Pete closed the gap between them and pressed into him again.
Pete spoke into Patrick's warm, pale neck. "I've been stupid. I've missed you." There were no eyes to avoid, not that Patrick's were ever accusatory where Pete was involved. He could let it out, now. "I felt myself getting... I don't know. Too attached." A deep breath. "I felt myself falling in love, and I'm not very good at that."
Patrick kept his eyes closed, processing this new information as his stomach filled with sharp-winged butterflies. He didn't want to open them only to not see where those words came from. It would be as if they'd been imagined. He tried not to melt. "So, you thought that pulling away was easier than just talking to me about it?" He ran his hands over Pete's back. It certainly felt like he was all there.
"I was just being fucking stupid, thinking 'What if it isn't right?', 'What if we were only meant to be friends?' 'Trick, I trust you, and you know me better than anyone else... but, I wasn't sure you would understand. You're pretty hard to read sometimes, Patrick."
"You are, too."
"That's just the thing. I didn't want to fuck this up; you're too big a deal. I just wasn't entirely sure that you could..." Pete winced at the reality of his next words. "Really see me."
A pause. Oh.
Pete continued. The words were flooding out now. "Then, it felt like you were ignoring me--"
News to Patrick! "What? Pete, I was never-- You were--"
"I know, I know! Irrational. But, it felt like you were, and I realize that now it was just because I was being a complete dick. How else should you have reacted?"
Patrick nodded into Pete's hair. "You really were being a dick. A huge one. Monstrous." What a fiasco. All of that time wasted, then THIS happens, and what could they do to feasibly fix it? "I'll forgive you, if you promise to be less stupid."
"Are you..." Pete searched for words that wouldn't sound ridiculous. He was unusually hesitant, when he was so good at feigning confidence. "Are you okay with having an invisible boyfriend?" He was starting to feel better about all this.
Patrick cracked a small smile. "I'd prefer it if you weren't, but I can adjust with time." Oh right, show tonight. "Not sure how we're going to explain it to everyone else, though." Well, whatever. They were fucked, either way. This was slightly more serious.
"I wish you'd said something sooner, before it got so out of hand. I would have..." What? Listened? Loved him back? Smothered him with kisses? All of the above? Novel idea. Patrick felt his way up to Pete's jaw, and willed himself to keep his eyes firmly closed. Don't ruin it now, not now. Warm breath, noses nuzzled, and then there were rough lips and insistent tongues and clenching hands. It had been much too long.
It was so easy to go on sense memory, and opening his eyes would only disorient him. He could get used to this. If Pete was going to be invisible, Patrick would be blind.
"What the hell is going on back here?!" Joe broke their heavy silence as he stormed through the bus. Patrick froze; a dark blush crept up his cheeks, picturing how this must look to an outsider. Patrick had been caught making out with his practically-imaginary best friend. But-- Joe: "Pete, put some fucking clothes on. We've been looking all over for you!"
Patrick's eyelids snapped open. There he was, just as real as he'd ever been. Pete didn't move. He was leaning against Patrick, breathing hard and smiling harder.
"Pete, I can see you," Patrick mumbled into his ear, drinking in all that delicious golden skin. It didn't matter how it had happened. All that mattered now was that Pete was back and a feast for the eyes.
Pete stepped back and glared at the back of a departing Joe's shaking head. "Yeah." Things were going to work out fine. He looked back into Patrick's all-seeing eyes ("You sure can.") before leaning back in for another kiss.
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See original comments here.