Part 2: Of Starbucks and Superheroes (Bandom Big Bang)
Previous part
They spent the next hour or so in the shoe store--Patrick manfully avoiding any and all attempts Pete made to make him buy 'cool' shoes.
("But Patrick, look! They're so shiny!"
"They're ugly, man, how can you not see that?"
"But...ooh, ooh, you could buy this pair as a present for Jonwalker, like a first date present!"
"Pete, we're guys. We don't buy each other 'first date presents'. Besides, last night and today he was wearing flip flops; I don't know if he wears any other kind of shoe."
"Hahah, you've noticed his footwear? Aww, Patrick, you're such a romantic!"
"Shuttup.")
Finally, Pete settled on a pair of sneakers that Patrick would never have worn, ever, unless you paid him, like, a million dollars--but somehow suited Pete like they were made for him--and they left the store.
They ate lunch at a pizza place a few blocks down, kidding around they dripped tomato sauce all over their plates and, in Pete's case, all over his shirt.
"My god, you are such a child," Patrick sighed, throwing a handful of napkins at Pete.
"Shut up," Pete mumbled, wiping at the spreading stain on his shirt. "We're going to yours now anyway, so I can just change my shirt there."
Patrick blinked. "Um, what?"
Pete rolled his eyes. "Patrick. We need to get you ready for your date. I'm not letting you meet your boy wearing the same shirt you've been in all day, so we need to go back to yours so that you can change."
"But...I like this shirt!" Patrick protested, and Pete's eyes narrowed. Before Patrick could react, Pete stood up and dropped a sauce heavy piece of pizza on his shirt.
"Oops," Pete grinned, and Patrick glared at him.
"What the fuck did you do that for?" he spat out, grabbing one of the napkins from the table and wiping futilely at the sauce.
"Desperate times, Patrick m'boy. Desperate times." Off Patrick's look, Pete sighed. "Sorry, man. But you gave me no other choice."
"It's that important to you that I change my shirt?"
"No. It's important to you. You may both be guys, but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't make an effort. And if you turned up tonight wearing the same shirt as when you'd seen him earlier, that implies that you're not that bothered." Pete paid their bill, smiling at the waitress, and dragged Patrick to the car. "So yeah. It's important to you, so it's important to me."
God, Patrick hated it when he couldn't stay mad at Pete. "Fine," he sighed, hopping into the passenger seat. "But if this stain doesn't come out, I'm going to be pissed."
"Pfft, pizza sauce comes out fine," Pete said, his tone that of someone who is sure of himself through much experience. Patrick had no doubts that this was, in fact, the case, having shared pizza with Pete on more occasions than he could count.
Pete turned the stereo on almost straight away, playing Knockout's album at what felt like full volume and singing along. Well, what passed for singing with Pete. Patrick wasn't sure what he'd call it for anyone else. Patrick watched his best friend drumming the beat on the steering wheel and smiled, absently wondering if he'd have time to work out some beats at his own drum kit before he got ready for his date.
Oh, god. He was going on a date with Jon Walker.
He tried not to let the thought panic him. Jon seemed to like him--which he still couldn't completely believe--so that was the most difficult part taken care of. He also played in a band, so they had that in common.
Patrick suddenly realized that he really didn't know that much about Jon, and said so to Pete, who stopped singing long enough to laugh.
"God, Patrick, that's the whole point of a first date. You get to know each other. Didn't you guys talk when you were sitting together on the beach last night?"
"Not really," Patrick shrugged. "I mean, we were mostly talking to other people too, and didn't really get the chance to talk about anything like that."
Pete smirked. "And yet you had time to--"
"Do not finish that sentence, Peter," Patrick warned, flicking Pete on the arm.
"I'm just sayin'...."
"Well, don't, alright?" Patrick sat on his hands and squirmed a little, uncomfortable.
"Aww, you two are so adorable," Pete laughed, pulling the car into Patrick's driveway beside his brother’s truck. "Is Kevin in?"
"Nah, his truck broke down yesterday, which is why my mom needed the car back this morning. They're due back soon."
"And they don't know about Jon." It wasn't a question; Pete knew that Patrick wasn't out to his family yet, and it was always pretty awkward when Patrick went out with guys. Not that it happened that often--Patrick didn't tend to date much, girls or boys.
He shrugged. "It's not like they quiz me about my every move. I figured if they asked I could just tell them I was out with friends."
Pete sighed, leaning on the wall as Patrick unlocked the front door. "You'll have to tell them some time. I know your mom would understand."
"Yeah, I know, but... In my own time, 'kay?"
"Of course, man." Pete wrapped an arm around his shoulder in a brief hug before pulling away and heading towards the stairs. "Now, let's find you a shirt!"
Patrick winced. "You're going to help me pick out clothes?"
"Of course! What do you think I'm here for? I tell you, Patrickstump, I would not let you do this on your own."
Patrick opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment the front door opened and his mom walked in, carrying a grocery bag in each arm. Patrick ran to help her, kissing her on the cheek as he grabbed one of the bags before it fell.
"Oh, thank you, sweetheart," his mom said, a little breathlessly. "I thought that was going to go all over my clean floor." She looked up and smiled. "Hello, Peter, dear."
"Hey, Ms. Vaughn," Pete smiled charmingly, and Patrick rolled his eyes.
"Will you boys be in for dinner?" she asked as they followed her through to the kitchen.
"Uh, no, mom. I'm going out in a bit." He glanced at Pete, who looked like someone had kicked his dog. "I think Pete might want to stay, though."
His mom laughed. "You know you're always welcome here, Peter, but I think your mother might be a little hurt if you're always over here for dinner." She ruffled Pete's hair--a move Patrick had never seen anyone but his mom get away with--and pointed to the cookie jar. "I did bake some cookies yesterday, though, so why don't you boys grab a few and take them upstairs with you?"
"Ms. V., you are the best," Pete exclaimed, dashing over to the cookie jar.
"Thanks, mom," Patrick said, giving her a quick hug before going over to Pete and making sure he wasn't trying to take them all. They took a few each and hurried up the stairs, calling hello to his brother as he came in the front door, and ran up to Patrick's bedroom.
****
They chilled out for a while - Patrick insisted that he have at least a half hour with his drums, so Pete grabbed his guitar and they messed around with some riffs and beats for a while. As usual, it ended up with Pete just watching Patrick play, a small smile on his face.
"What?" Patrick asked, putting down his sticks and wiping sweat from his forehead and cheeks.
"Nothing." Pete was still smiling, but before Patrick could call him on it, Pete looked at his watch and yelped. "Dude! You need to go shower, like, right now so we can get you ready for tonight."
Patrick stood up and stretched, rolling the stiffness out of his shoulders--it had been too long since he had last had a proper drumming session, and his muscles felt out of practice.
"But it's only 4pm!" Patrick protested. "It's, like, two hours until I have to meet him."
"That's right. Only two hours." Pete began hustling him towards the door. "So you'd better get moving!"
Sighing, Patrick grabbed some clean clothes and headed into the bathroom. He really had to stop trying to argue with Pete. It only made his head spin.
***
"Um, Pete? What is that?"
Pete shook the hanger at him. "It's the shirt I bought for you while you were having coffee with JWalk. You should totally wear it tonight."
Patrick blinked, staring at the shirt incredulously. "It's, uh...it's pink. Why is it pink?"
"Because, Patrick, pink is totally in right now. Plus it's a Very Daring Statement."
"Pete... I'm not sure if you've noticed? But my hair is a very reddish blond. Pink clashes."
Pete's face fell. "Oh," he said, downcast, and Patrick immediately felt bad.
"I think it's an awesome shirt, though. I'd totally wear it if I had, like, your coloring," Patrick said reassuringly, and Pete immediately brightened.
"Ooh, maybe I should wear it, then," Pete said thoughtfully, holding it up against himself. Patrick resisted the urge to glare; it wasn't fair that Pete could even make a bright pink shirt look halfway decent.
"Still doesn't solve the problem of what I'm going to wear tonight, though." Patrick frowned into his closet, dismissing as many shirts as he looked at.
"What about the dark blue button down?" Pete asked, pushing past Patrick and grabbing the shirt off a hanger. "It brings out the color of your eyes." Pete batted his eyelashes, and Patrick laughed, pulling the shirt over his head.
"How's that?" he asked, pulling on a white cap and trying to hide his nerves.
"You'll do," Pete smiled fondly at him. "Now, c'mon. Time to go. You should get there a little early, grab a coffee while you wait for him."
Patrick nodded, wiping his palms on his jeans. "Okay. Let's go."
***
Patrick left his mom's car in the parking lot closest to the Starbucks and walked quickly towards the coffee shop. Pete had left him in his driveway with a clap to the shoulder and a cheery, "Good luck!" but Patrick almost wished that he was still there, a comforting presence to ease his own awkwardness.
Walking through the door, Patrick glanced around, looking to see if he could spot Jon. It was only quarter to six, and Patrick worried that he might look overeager. As soon as he saw Jon standing behind the counter, though, he knew he needn't have worried; the look on the other boy's face made Patrick's stomach flip.
"Hey," Patrick said, leaning on the counter.
"Hey," Jon smiled. "You know I don't get off for another ten minutes?"
Patrick nodded, trying not to blush. "Figured I'd come and get a coffee while I waited, if that's okay?"
"Of course! Hazelnut latte?"
Patrick nodded, handing over the money when Jon rang it up on the till. A queue was forming behind him, so he didn't hang around, instead grabbing his coffee and finding a seat close to the counter. He tried to watch Jon work without being too obvious about it, but didn't think he was particularly successful, especially when he saw one of the other baristas glance over, smile, and then say something to Jon. Patrick lowered his head and stared at his coffee, embarrassed.
"Hey." Patrick smiled up at Jon, who had materialized next to his chair and was in the process of undoing his apron. "I'm just going to go change and clock out, and then I'll be good to go, 'kay?"
"Okay." Patrick took a sip of his coffee, trying to get rid of the sudden wave of nervousness which overcame him.
"Awesome." Jon leaned over, then picked up Patrick's coffee and took a sip, before handing it back to him with a grin. Patrick stared after him as he wandered towards the door marked 'Staff Only', then picked up the mug, drinking from the same spot as Jon and smiling dorkily to himself.
***
Patrick had almost finished his coffee when Jon came back out to meet him, nearly fifteen minutes later. Patrick had started to wonder if maybe Jon had realized that he'd made a mistake, and had escaped through some back exit. Instead, it looked as though Jon had changed his whole outfit. He was wearing a fresh shirt--a dove grey button-down instead of the black he'd worn earlier. He also seemed to have changed his jeans, although he was still wearing the same flip flops he'd been wearing for work. Patrick was pretty sure that they probably constituted a health and safety hazard, especially since there was a danger of hot coffee spillage, but had the feeling that no-one would even consider speaking to him about it - they were just part of the overall Jon Walker package.
Swallowing the last sip of coffee so fast he only narrowly avoided choking on it, Patrick stood up as Jon approached his table. As he came nearer, Patrick noticed that Jon's hair looked damp, as if he had tried to do something with it. Suddenly glad that Pete had forced him to go home and change, Patrick smiled nervously.
"We, uh. We good to go?"
Jon nodded, and they walked towards the door. Jon held it open for him, putting a hand on his arm as he passed. "By the way...you look great," he said, blushing a little.
"Thanks! Uh, you look really good too," Patrick said as Jon followed him out onto the street. "I, uh, I like your shirt."
"Thanks." Jon grinned lopsidedly. "I have a confession to make, though."
"Yeah?"
"Tom picked it out for me."
Patrick laughed. "Yeah, well, Pete picked out mine."
Jon chuckled. "God, are we really that hopeless?"
"Well, our friends seem to think so." Patrick cleared his throat. "So, um, what do you want to do?"
Jon shrugged. "I was thinking that we could maybe get a bite to eat, then maybe go watch a movie? I haven't had a chance to see the new X-Men movie yet, if you're interested."
"That sounds awesome! I haven't seen it yet either. We were so busy with the album and stuff when it was released we didn't have time."
"Cool," Jon nodded. "So, uh, where do you want to eat? Or should we just grab, like, hot dogs and nachos before the movie?"
"Sounds good to me," Patrick smiled, and they set off in the direction of the nearest cinema.
It wasn't a particularly long walk, but neither of them seemed to be in a hurry to get there, walking at a leisurely pace as they talked about their favorite comic-book movies.
"I loved the original Batman movies--you know, the Tim Burton ones?" Patrick said wistfully. "Before they made the other two, which were so bad it was almost upsetting."
"Almost?"
Patrick laughed. "Okay, not so much 'almost'. But seriously, what were they thinking?"
"I hear they're talking about making a new one."
"Oh my god, tell me it isn't Schumacher," Patrick said pleadingly, staring at Jon with wide eyes.
Jon shook his head. "I heard it was Christopher Nolan."
"Nolan?" Patrick thought for a few moments. "Memento?"
"Yup."
"Huh. Well, we'll see. I'm not holding my breath, though."
Jon grinned. "Yeah, it's always best not to be too optimistic about these things." He shrugged, holding the door of the cinema open for Patrick. "But at least this one has a reputable director, right?"
"Hmm, I guess," Patrick said dubiously, heading towards the line to buy tickets. He thought Nolan was a great director, but his style tended towards overly internalized and tortured main characters. Which was fine in some movies, but when it came to superheroes that was exactly what people always groaned about; the tortured hero with a dark, brooding demeanor. Although, Patrick mused, anything had to be better than the last two.
As soon as they had their tickets and food they wandered through to their screen, automatically going straight through the empty room to sit at the back. The trailers weren't even due to start for another ten minutes, so Patrick wasn't surprised that they were the only ones there, especially since it wasn't exactly a new release. They settled into their seats, eating their hotdogs and trading popcorn and nachos between them.
While they waited for the showing to start, they discussed the music they liked; Jon had been listening to a lot of The Beatles--Abbey Road in particular--while Patrick had been listening to a female singer/songwriter called Regina Spektor he'd heard at a friend's house.
As the trailers played, people began to trickle into the theatre, but by the time the movie started not even half the seats were taken. Most people had sat in the middle or near the front, and Patrick wondered nervously if it was obvious that he and Jon were on a date. He quickly decided that this was unlikely; if they were being avoided, it was probably because the other movie goers thought they might cause some kind of disturbance.
The movie was pretty good; not entirely what he had expected, but still fun. He could see Jon out of the corner of his eye, and Patrick thought he looked like he was enjoying it too. Biting his lip to hide a goofy grin, Patrick grabbed a handful of popcorn.
Wiping his greasy hands on a napkin, Patrick glanced over at Jon, flashing a quick smile when he caught Jon watching him. The other boy blushed, wiping at his own hands, and Patrick suddenly wished that they had gone back to the beach because maybe then they would be kissing by now.
He relaxed into his seat and took a sip of his Dr. Pepper, leaning on the armrest when he was done. A few minutes later, he felt Jon brush against his arm, and when he turned his head to smile, Jon smiled back and slipped his hand into Patrick's, entwining their fingers. Patrick felt his mouth go dry and blinked, giving into his impulses and leaning forward to give Jon a quick kiss. When he tried to sit back, though, Jon pulled him back in, kissing him deeply. When they finally pulled apart, Patrick tried not to whimper in disappointment. He could have cared less about the movie, and would happily have left at that moment if it meant that they could just keep doing that.
But Jon had already relaxed back into his chair and was once again concentrating on what was happening on-screen. Sighing, Patrick followed suit, watching as the X-Men's helicopter landed in Bobby's front yard.
***
"I can't believe they did that."
Jon looked genuinely distressed, and Patrick had to try not to laugh.
"Dude, seriously, it's only a movie," he said, trying to be soothing.
"But they killed Famke Janssen!"
Patrick smiled. "Hmm."
"What?" Jon looked at him suspiciously. "Wait, do you know something about it? Is it something I should know too?"
"Only if you want spoiled for the next movie, if they ever make it," Patrick said, licking the last piece of ice cream from the spoon. Since they had gone to such an early showing of the movie, it was still pretty early when they had left, and they had decided to get some ice cream and eat it on Rainbow Beach.
"Patrick. Tell me."
Patrick smiled. "She's not really dead. You remember the weird shadow that was over the water?" Jon narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment before nodding. "Well, that shadow was of a phoenix, and that's what she becomes --The Phoenix. So she's not really dead."
"Good," Jon sighed. "I liked her."
"Hmm, well, you might not when you see what she turns into."
Jon pouted adorably, then smiled. "Well, they'd better hurry up with a third one, then. I want to see for myself." Finishing his ice cream, Jon set the empty tub down on the sand and leaned his head on Patrick's shoulder. Patrick froze for a second, then brought an arm up to wrap loosely around Jon's waist.
They sat like that in silence for a while, huddled into each other for warmth, before Patrick finally spoke.
"I, uh...I had a really great time tonight," he said quietly.
Jon lifted his head, turning to look at Patrick. "Yeah, me too," he smiled, before leaning in for a kiss.
Jon tasted like coffee at first- Patrick was amazed that he could stand to eat coffee ice cream after working in a cafe all day, but Jon had just laughed when he'd pointed this out. The longer they kissed, though, the more he just tasted like Jon, and Patrick moaned a little as he shifted, trying to pull Jon even closer.
Jon seemed to get the hint and moved so that he was straddling Patrick's lap, pressing in close. Patrick wrapped his arms around the other boy, hands restlessly kneading at the soft fabric of Jon's shirt. But when Jon tried to push him backwards onto the sand, obviously wanting more, Patrick stopped him.
"What?" Jon asked, looking puzzled.
"I just...I don't want to take this too fast, alright?" Jon raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Patrick continued. "I know...last night, but. Besides, you're only seventeen, and I'm...."
"Only just nineteen?" Jon finished for him, and Patrick sighed.
"Either way, I'd just...I don't want to rush things, or make you think I was taking advantage, y'know?"
Jon brought a hand up to card through Patrick's hair. "Dude. We're not girls. You don't have to have some kind of chivalrous code of conduct with me."
Patrick rolled his eyes. "We don't have to be girls for me to really like you and want it to mean something other than just sex," he said quietly, and Jon stared at him for a moment.
"You really like me that much?" he asked in a low voice, and Patrick nodded, afraid that maybe he'd said too much. But Jon smiled and kissed him gently. "I really like you too," he said, standing and holding out a hand to help Patrick up.
"So you're not mad?" Patrick asked.
"Of course not. I don't think it would be just sex, but if you'd rather wait for the third date..." Jon gave him a mischievous grin. "Oh, wait, wouldn't that be the next one?"
Patrick laughed, kissing him again before getting into the car. "Whatever."
****
He dropped Jon off at his house, killing the engine when he pulled over to the curb. "Um. When can I see you again?" he asked.
"How about tomorrow? There's always stuff going on in the parks on Sundays, or we could maybe hang out here and watch some DVDs since my parents are going away for a week tomorrow afternoon?"
"Sure," Patrick said, and Jon grinned.
"Awesome." With one last quick kiss, he opened the car door and got out waving to Patrick as he walked up the path. As soon as he was inside, Patrick drove home, and didn't stop smiling until he fell asleep.
***
Patrick woke up the next morning to the sound of his phone ringing insistently right next to his ear. Groaning, he grabbed it and rolled over as he hit the 'accept call' button.
"Mmh'llo?" he mumbled sleepily, trying to wake up enough to form actual words.
"Patrick, you bastard, you were meant to call me as soon as you got home last night to let me know how it went with Jon and you didn't."
"Uh, sorry? I got home pretty late and then my mom wanted to talk to me about my aunt's birthday, and I totally forgot."
Pete sighed heavily into the phone. "Whatever, man. So how did it go? I demand details! Except, y'know, not those kinds of details, because I have no desire to have an intimate knowledge of your sex life."
Patrick pulled his duvet over his head. It was too fucking early to deal with this. "What do you want to know?"
"Have you not been paying attention? Tell me everything! Did you go out to dinner? Movie? Both? Something else? Did he look hot?"
Patrick laughed, some of the sleep-fog starting to clear from his brain. "We grabbed some food at the cinema, and we went to see the new X-Men movie. We shared popcorn and nachos. And yes. He looked extremely hot."
"Did you make out in the back row?" Patrick stayed silent. "Haha, you did, didn't you? That's awesome. What did you do when the movie was finished?"
"We got some ice cream and ate it on Rainbow Beach, and then I gave him a ride home."
"Did you have sex?" Pete asked, and Patrick knew that he was leering at the phone as he spoke.
"Dude! What? That is none of your business."
"Aw, c'mon, Patrick," Pete said in a wheedling tone. "I need to know, so that I can live vicariously through you, since I haven't been laid in, like, forever."
Patrick rubbed at his forehead, reaching over to grab his glasses and push them onto his nose. "Dude. What about that girl at the bar last week?"
"Whatever, don't change the subject. Point is, you have to tell me, Patrick Stump. I need to know."
Sighing, Patrick realized that Pete wouldn't drop it until he got an answer. "No, Pete. We didn't have sex."
"Why the hell not?"
Patrick rolled his eyes. "Maybe because not everything is about that? God, Pete, seriously."
"I'd disagree, but since you two are so disgustingly cute I'll let it go." Patrick could practically hear Pete's grin. "So, when are you seeing him again?"
"Today. I'm going over late afternoon to watch some DVDs 'cause his parents are away for a week."
There was silence for a moment, then Pete squeaked out a hurried, "Don't go anywhere," and the line went dead. Patrick stared at his phone for a second, then threw it and his glasses onto his bedside table, before turning over and going back to sleep.
***
"Patrick. Patrick. Patrickpatrickpatrickpatrickpatrickpatrickpatrickpatrickpat--."
"What, oh my god, if you do not shut up and stop bouncing on me I will kill you." Patrick pulled the covers off of his head and glared at the annoying best-friend currently jumping up and down on his legs like some kind of hyperactive puppy.
"You wouldn't wake up, so I had to wake you up. It's not my fault you sleep like a brick, Patrick," Pete said sternly. "Now, you need to get up, because if you're going over to JWalk's this afternoon, you will need to start getting ready soon."
Putting on his glasses, Patrick looked at his clock, groaning when he saw that it was only ten am.
"Oh my god, I hate you so much right now."
"Pfft, you don't hate me. You'd never hate me." Then Pete's expression changed, going from cocky to distressed. "You wouldn't...would you?"
"No, dude, don't be stupid." Patrick smiled reassuringly at his friend. For all that Pete could be an annoying bastard, Patrick didn't think that he could ever hate him.
"Good," Pete sighed in relief, clambering off the bed. "But seriously, you need to get up."
"But why?" Patrick asked plaintively.
Pete looked slightly shifty. "Well, mostly it's because we have to figure out what you're wearing today, but. Also, your mom said she was going to make pancakes for breakfast."
"You woke me up because you couldn't get pancakes at your own house?"
"Oh, I did. But your mom's pancakes are different from my mom's, so I feel that I need both to survive."
Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god, you're so weird," he muttered, but climbed out of bed anyway, heading straight towards the bathroom --ostensibly to shower, but really because he wanted some peace and quiet so that he could think about his date the day before, and how Jon's eyes lit up when he smiled.
***
"Okay, Patrick, if you don't stop messing with your hair then I am just going to cut it all off. Seriously."
Patrick glared at Pete. "I have seen you mess around with your hair for two hours before a date, so shut up."
Pete rolled his eyes. "Yes, but, Patrick, my hair looked like I had been dragged through a hedge. Yours, on the other hand, looks fine. Now seriously, stop."
"Yeah, well," Patrick grumbled, reaching for his phone as it beeped to announce that he had a new message. Noting that it was from an unfamiliar number, he pushed the 'read message' button and stared.
'hey patrick, u still comin ovr 2day? 2pm good? jwalk'
"Is that from Jon? Let me see!"
"No!" Patrick moved his phone out of reach of Pete's grabbyhands. "No wonder I didn’t recognize the number.”
Pete gave him a look which was equal parts disdain and disbelief. "You mean you hadn't exchanged numbers? Oh my god, you guys are so lame."
"I thought we were cute?"
"You're lamely cute. Or cutely lame. Whatever.”
"Oh." Picking up his phone, Patrick replied:
'2pm sounds gr8. cu then! patrick'
"Did you put little 'x's and 'o's?"
"Um, no. Because we're not girls."
"I put 'xo' at the end of text messages," Pete said, and Patrick shoved at his shoulder.
"Well, yeah, but you're a total girl," he grinned, dodging when Pete swiped at him.
"You're mean, Patrick Stump," Pete huffed, blowing his bangs off his face as he looked at his watch. "Well, we've got an hour to kill. What do you want to do?"
Patrick picked up his guitar. "I've been thinking about this riff, but I'm not sure on the timing. What do you think?"
***
Patrick pulled into Jon's driveway at two minutes past two, thanking his lucky stars that there hadn't been any traffic cops about to see him breaking the speed limit to get here on time. One riff had led to another, and before Patrick had realized it Pete was looking at his watch and crying out, "Oh, shit, Patrick, you have to go, like, ten minutes ago!"
Straightening his cap, Patrick climbed out of the car and walked up to Jon's door. He pushed the doorbell, startled when Jon answered the door almost immediately.
"Um, hey," Jon said, looking slightly shifty. "I, uh, heard your car."
"Oh." Patrick smiled nervously, and Jon bit his lip.
"Uh. You'd better come in," Jon said in a low voice, slighty breathlessly, "because I really kinda want to kiss you right now and I'd rather not do it where the neighbors can see."
Patrick stared at Jon for a second in disbelief, then followed him into the house. He had no sooner closed the door than he was pushed up against it, Jon's hands cupping his face as they kissed almost desperately.
Losing himself in the slipslide of lips and tongues, Patrick shifted slightly, hands coming up to clutch at Jon's back. He lost track of how long they stood there, before Jon finally pulled back, eyes shining.
"Hey," he said hoarsely, reaching down to pick up Patrick's cap from the floor where it had fallen. Patrick took it and put it back on, slipping his arms around Jon's waist.
"So, do I get a tour?"
"Sure!" Jon showed him around the first floor, pointing up the stairs when he got there with, "And the bedrooms are up there, but, um, I can show you that later." He smirked at Patrick through his lashes, and Patrick felt his mouth dry up.
Leading him through to the lounge, Jon went over to the TV and switched it on. "So, um, do you want to watch a movie?"
"Sure," Patrick nodded, sitting down on the sofa. "What have you got?"
"Uh...action, adventure, comedy...Disney?"
Patrick laughed as Jon held up Aladdin. "Maybe later, but only if you promise to sing along."
Jon snorted. "Man, if you can watch Disney without singing along, I'd be surprised. I don't think anyone can."
"True." He pointed towards one of the DVDs on the shelf. "Oh, man, is that Batman?"
"Yeah, want to watch it?"
Patrick nodded, and Jon set it up, grabbing the remote and bounding back to the sofa, sitting down right down close to Patrick. Taking a nervous breath, Patrick lifted his arm invitingly; Jon immediately snuggled into his side, sighing contentedly as Patrick rested his arm across his shoulders.
Patrick was glad that he had seen the movie before, because there was no way he could have concentrated with Jon's warmth plastered against his side, occasionally reaching across him to grab a glass of soda or a handful of Pringles. He loved Tim Burton, and thought that his portrayal of the Batman universe was incomparable--especially considering the travesties that were Batman Forever and Batman and Robin--but for the first time, Patrick found that he couldn't lose himself in the story.
The movie was barely forty minutes in when Jon laid his glass down and climbed into Patrick's lap. Patrick narrowed his eyes playfully, and pretended to try and watch the movie over Jon's shoulder. Laughing, Jon dropped his head onto Patrick's shoulder, nuzzling at his neck.
"Do you really want to watch the movie that much?" he asked, voice muffled on Patrick's skin. "Because I can sit back down."
Patrick immediately wrapped his arms around the other boy, holding him in place. "Nonono, you can't go. I won't let you."
"No?"
Patrick leaned up, kissing him softly. "No."
***
By the time the credits rolled, they were lying together across the sofa, pressed so tightly that Patrick wasn't entirely sure where Jon ended and he began. His whole awareness was of Jon: Jon's mouth moving against his, alternating between gentle and demanding; Jon's hands roaming over his body, occasionally coming to rest on his hip, or on the skin under his t-shirt; the hard line of Jon's cock alongside his own, ignored for now but not forgotten; the breathy gasps and quiet moans whenever they shifted in a certain way.
"Should I put something else on?" Jon muttered against his lips between kisses.
"I think we're good. Although you could take something off," he said, tugging meaningfully at Jon's shirt. Jon grinned at him, and then there was a confused tangle of limbs as both Jon and Patrick tried to remove their shirts without disentangling too much. The feel of skin-on-skin was worth the effort, though, and Patrick wriggled closer, trying to get more.
Jon trailed his mouth down to Patrick's ear, nibbling gently. Patrick arched up, bitten-off fingernails digging into Jon's shoulders....
And at that moment Jon's stomach gave an almighty growl. Patrick couldn't help it; he burst out laughing, even as Jon flushed crimson.
"Shut up, I'm hungry!"
"It's cool, I'm kinds hungry too. D'you wanna order pizza?"
Jon nodded, climbing awkwardly off the sofa to fetch a menu, and Patrick grinned to himself as they debated toppings.
***
They ate their pizza at the kitchen table, shirts having been hastily pulled back on when the delivery guy had knocked.
"So, uh." Jon grinned at him, cheese dripping down his chin. "Disney after we've eaten?"
Patrick laughed in equal parts surprise and delight. "Only if you promise to sing for me."
Jon leaned towards him, smirking. "Right now? I'd pretty much promise to do anything you wanted," he said coyly, and Patrick almost choked on his pizza.
"That's...good?" he managed finally, taking a sip of Dr. Pepper to try and clear his throat.
"Are you alright?" Jon asked, looking concerned, and Patrick nodded.
"I, um. Bathroom?"
Jon pointed down the hall, and Patrick went into the bathroom, standing over the sink and breathed deeply. He wasn't sure where this was going... Okay. So he had a fair idea where it was going, but he didn't know how far, or. Fuck. And then there was the fact that Jon was still only seventeen, and Patrick could go to jail, oh my god.
Splashing some water on his face, Patrick sighed, drying himself off and putting his glasses back on. Steeling himself, he walked back through to the kitchen, where Jon was putting his pizza box into the fridge.
"Hey, I'm full. Figure it'll do breakfast." Jon motioned towards Patrick's pizza. "You still hungry?"
Patrick shook his head. "Nah, I'm done." Jon nodded and put the box in the fridge on top of his.
"You got space for popcorn?" Jon asked, shaking a bag at him. "We could stick on Die Hard and mock the bad dialogue."
"Sounds good," Patrick smiled, and Jon grinned.
***
"Oh, my god, what is with that accent?"
"Oh, come on, it's not that bad."
Jon gestured towards the TV with a handful of popcorn, almost dislodging Patrick's arm from around his shoulders. "It's not that great, either," he said, laying his head back on Patrick's chest. "Don't get me wrong, I think Alan Rickman is awesome, but this just isn't his best movie."
Patrick laughed, bringing his hand up to card through Jon's hair. "It's Die Hard, dude. Not Shakespeare."
"Yeah, Shakespeare wasn't his best role either," Jon said, practically purring as he pushed his head into Patrick's touch. "There were man-tights."
Patrick shuddered at the thought. "Why do people insist on putting those in movies? Like David Bowie in Labyrinth, my god, that scarred me for life."
"Yeah. I'd never wear those," Jon said.
"I doubt you will ever be called upon to, Jon Walker."
"Hmm." Jon turned his head a little, nuzzling Patrick's cheek. "That's probably just as well. I wouldn't want to traumatize you."
Patrick didn't reply; instead moving his head and pressing his lips against Jon's. Jon moaned and deepened the kiss, before pulling back.
"I, uh," he said breathlessly, eyes wide. "I think, um. My bed is way more comfortable than the sofa?" He looked nervous, totally unsure of himself, and Patrick was caught between being extremely turned on and freaking out again about Jon's age.
"Only if. If you're sure," Patrick said earnestly, rubbing at the back of his neck.
Jon stood up, reaching out a hand to pull Patrick up beside him. "C'mon," Jon smiled, and led him towards the stairs.
***
Jon's room was...very much like Patrick's room, actually; a few posters of bands on the wall, a couple of guitars, nondescript bedspread, some pictures tacked above his bed, and random socks on the floor. Jon smiled nervously and tugged Patrick over to the bed.
They sat down next to each other, and Patrick stared at his shoes.
"So. Um. What do you...?"
"I...I think you should kiss me, like, right now," Jon said, voice slightly unsteady, and Patrick was more than happy to oblige. Bringing a hand up to cup Jon's jaw as they kissed, Patrick was pretty sure that he could never get tired of this. But then Jon shifted, hand clutching high up on Patrick's thigh, and he pulled back to take a shaky breath.
"God, I need..." he panted, and Jon nodded, clambering backwards up the bed. He held out a hand, and Patrick kicked off his shoes, crawling up to where Jon lay and settling between his open thighs.
"Hey," Jon said, grinning, and Patrick smiled. He shifted so that he was leaning on his forearms, and dipped his head down, catching Jon's lips with his own.
Patrick kept himself propped above Jon as they kissed, trying to make sure that he didn't crush the other boy with his full weight. But Jon obviously had other ideas, wrapping his arms and legs around Patrick and pulling him in. Patrick groaned at the sudden pressure on his cock, biting gently at Jon's lower lip as Jon shifted to clutch at Patrick's back under his shirt.
"Mmph, take it off," Jon mumbled, and Patrick could hear the desperation in his tone. Torn between wanting to get back to skin on skin and not wanting to stop kissing Jon, possibly ever, Patrick tried to pull off Jon's shirt too quickly, succeeding only in tangling them both up in fabric. Laughing, they pulled back, stripping off their own shirts and tossing them off to the side. Patrick moved back on top of Jon, kisses becoming more desperate and heated.
Patrick gasped as Jon's fingers dug into his back, partly with pain--he could feel bruises beginning to blossom already but couldn't bring himself to care. But then Jon's hands slipped lower, under the waistband of his jeans, and Patrick pulled back as Jon tugged ineffectually at his belt loops.
"Are you...are you sure?" Patrick asked, trying to make his tone sound serious and not like the breathy whine it was trying to come out as.
Jon smiled at him. "Yes, Patrick, I'm sure. And you can stop asking me that, because, seriously, do I seem like the kind of person who's going to do anything they're not sure about?"
"Well, um, I guess not?"
"Exactly," Jon said, fingers skimming around Patrick's waist to tease at his hipbones. "Now, can we please get naked?"
Patrick nodded, suddenly nervous. What if he didn't meet Jon's expectations? What if he wasn't...? But Jon was kissing him again, and any thoughts other than clothes off NOW were lost. There was an awkward tussle as they tried undoing buttons and zippers, and then pulling off clothes, but then Patrick's eyes nearly rolled back in his head because holymotherofgod, that felt really fucking good.
He looked down at Jon, slightly surprised to see the other boy’s gaze darting around nervously, his face flushing.
“Hey,” Patrick said softly, nosing gently at Jon’s cheek. “What’s up?”
“I, uh. I’ve just…I’ve maybe never been, y’know, naked with another guy. Before.”
Patrick’s eyes widened in shock. “You mean I’m…? Fuck.” He buried his face in Jon’s neck, trying to calm his racing heart. “That’s, um. I mean, have you ever…?”
“I’ve, y’know, I’ve fooled around, but never. Never this far. Not with another guy.” Patrick felt Jon nudging his shoulder and leaned up on his elbows so he could see Jon’s face. “I want…I’m glad it’s you, though,” Jon smiled, and Patrick felt his face split in a dorky grin.
“Me too,” he mumbled, shifting his hips and watching as Jon’s head fell back, mouth open in a drawn-out moan. “Do you have any, uh, lotion?” he asked, and Jon reached over to the bedside table, grabbing a bottle and handing it to Patrick. Squeezing some onto his palm, Patrick moved so that he was kissing Jon again, and reached between their bodies, wrapping his hand around both of them. It was difficult--he didn’t exactly have huge hands--but judging by the noises Jon was making against his mouth it didn’t really matter. He stroked them both together, trying to set up a rhythm, to make it good for Jon, but it was hard when he could feel his brain trying to short out with pleasure.
But then Jon’s hips stuttered and Patrick jerked back in time to watch Jon’s face as he came over Patrick’s hand and both their stomachs. Jon’s face went slack as his chest rose and fell rapidly, and Patrick stilled his hand, letting Jon recover. Then Jon opened his eyes, smiling lazily, and pulled Patrick’s head down, muttering, “C’mon, come for me, want to see, Patrick, Patrickpatrickpatrickpatrick,” and Patrick thrust once, twice into the hollow of Jon’s hip and came, brain exploding behind his eyeballs as he panted Jon’s name onto sweaty skin.
They lay like that for a few moments, breathing almost totally in sync, before Jon pushed gently at Patrick’s shoulder.
“Ugh, we really should get cleaned up.”
Patrick nodded in agreement, and stood up, grabbing onto the side of the bed as his knees tried to give way. He wandered out to the bathroom down the hall--directed by Jon, who was calling instructions from the bed--and came back with damp washcloths. They cleaned themselves up, and Jon pulled the sheets over them as Patrick spooned behind him, trying to fit them both on the tiny single bed. He pressed a kiss to Jon’s shoulder and yawned, before falling asleep to the sound of Jon’s breathing.
***
When Patrick woke again it was dark, and it took him a second before he remembered where he was. As they had slept, they had pressed even closer together, one of Patrick’s legs tangling between Jon’s. Jon was an absolute furnace when he slept, even more than Pete, and everywhere their skin was pressed together was sticky with sweat.
Patrick shifted slightly, trying to move without waking Jon, but no sooner had he freed his leg than Jon turned, almost ninja-fast, latching his mouth onto the skin under Patrick’s jaw. Patrick made a slight squeaking noise high in his throat, and Jon laughed sleepily.
“Mmm, hi there,” Jon murmured, arm snaking around Patrick’s waist to pull him closer.
Patrick tilted his head to allow Jon access as he kissed his way from Patrick’s chin to his ear, nibbling lightly on the lobe. “Hi yourself,” Patrick breathed back, grinning as Jon squirmed against him. “What time is it?”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Jon’s voice was almost completely muffled by Patrick’s skin, and Patrick took a few seconds to figure out what he’d said.
Reaching past Jon, Patrick grabbed the clock from Jon’s bedside table and peered at it. “Oh, crap!” he hissed, eyes widening. “Is that the time? I should be getting home soon; my mom needs the car again in the morning.”
Jon pulled back, eyes pleading. “Do you think…I mean, could you stay? My parents are away for a week, and you could just tell them that you’re staying at a friend’s, if you wanted to. You don’t have to, but I just thought that maybe it might be an idea if you….”
Patrick leaned in and kissed him, stopping the nervous babbling. “I’d love to, seriously. But don’t you have school tomorrow?” Jon’s face fell, and Patrick kissed him again. “Maybe we could meet up after you finish school? Have dinner, watch another movie?”
“Make out?” Jon grinned, and Patrick rolled his eyes.
“Well, duh.”
“Hmm, I guess that will have to do, then.” Jon smiled at him, and Patrick knew he should really get dressed, but Jon was still so sleepsoft and pliant, and really, one more kiss before he left wouldn’t make much difference….
When Patrick arrived back home an hour and a half later, he tripped cheerfully up the stairs to shower, already impatient for it to be the next evening.
***
Patrick was finishing his morning coffee when Pete burst into his kitchen, hands flailing.
"Patrickstump, you did it again, seriously, what is wrong with you, can you not remember one simple..." Pete suddenly went quiet, staring at Patrick. "Oh my god, did you get laid?"
"Pete!" Patrick groaned. "How many times? My private life is private, and therefore none of your business."
Pete snorted. "I'd be worried about you if you really believed that. Now, tell me, did you have gay sex with our virginal Jon Walker?"
"Pete, I told you...wait. Virginal?"
"Well, gay virginal. Did you not know?"
Patrick had known Pete too long to trust his wide eyed look. "Where did you hear this?"
"Oh, I have my sources," Pete said airily. "And my sources tell me that Jon Walker has not been this serious about a boy before, and since he is not the kind of boy to have sex with just anyone, it stands to reason."
Patrick raised an eyebrow. "This source wouldn't have happened to be Bill Beckett, would it?"
"Um, maybe?"
"And by 'just anyone', Bill wouldn't have happened to mean himself, would he?"
"Probably?" Pete shoved Patrick's shoulder. "Doesn't make it any less true though." He smiled goofily, and Patrick hid a grin of his own. "I think it's kinda sweet."
"Whatever. Can we please change the subject?"
Pete narrowed his eyes, as if trying to judge whether or not he could get away with annoying Patrick any more about it. Patrick met his gaze steadily, and eventually Pete smiled. "Alright, fine. So what are you doing today?"
Patrick shrugged. "Practicing, probably. I just don't want to screw this tour up, y'know? I mean, this is our chance to maybe get more people interested in what we're doing, and. I don't know, I just...."
"Yeah. I know." And Patrick knew that he did; wondered, sometimes, if he would ever understand quite how important this was for Pete. It was important to Patrick too, sure - but for Pete, it seemed more vital. It may have been Patrick's music, but they were mostly Pete's words, and Patrick knew that Pete's compulsive need to pour his soul into his words was at odds with a fragility that worried Patrick sometimes. "Think I might stick around and practice with you."
"Awesome," Patrick nodded. "Only until three thirty, though."
"Why?"
Patrick shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, and well aware that he was failing miserably. "I'm meeting Jon after he finishes school; we're gonna hang out."
"Oh, you are, huh?" Pete was smirking again, and seriously, he needed to stop that right now.
Ignoring him, Patrick got up from the table and headed towards his room to get dressed, rolling his eyes at Pete's sudden bray of laughter.
***
Patrick was convinced that he should never, ever stop kissing Jon. This wasn't a new thought; he'd had it at various moments over the past few days, during evenings spent in bed with Jon, flushed and sweating. They hadn't moved past hands yet, mostly because Patrick still didn't want to push Jon.
Tonight, though, Jon pulled back from Patrick as they kissed, causing Patrick to wonder if something was wrong.
"You've got to stop this, seriously," Jon said, smiling, resting his cheek on the pillow. "I'm not going to break, and you're not forcing me into anything, okay? If there's something that I don't want to do, I will let you know."
Patrick chuckled. "I'll take that under advisement."
"Good." Jon looked at him coyly from under his lashes, and Patrick leaned forward on impulse, kissing Jon deeply. Moving so that he was leaning over Jon slightly, he traced his fingers gently over Jon's skin, smiling as he skimmed over a particularly ticklish area of Jon's ribcage. When he reached Jon's boxer-briefs, he paused, teasing lightly at the waistband until Jon moved his hips, trying to get Patrick's hand where he wanted it. Patrick chuckled, taking pity on Jon and pulling off his underwear. He broke the kiss and began to mouth at Jon's jaw, trailing kisses down Jon's throat as his hands stroked Jon's hipbones. He bit gently at Jon's collarbone, his cock jumping at the cut-off, "Ah-aah," sound this drew from Jon.
Tired of teasing, Patrick slid down the bed, resting his cheek on Jon's thigh. He had wanted to do this the previous night, but wasn't sure if he was going too fast. After Jon's reassurances, though, he could no longer resist. Leaning forward, and making sure his hands were holding Jon's hips in place, Patrick sucked the head of Jon's cock into his mouth.
Jon's breath hissed, as his hips jerked in a way that made Patrick glad that he'd had the forethought to hold him down. He shifted so that one hand was holding the base of Jon's cock, and began bobbing his head, taking Jon in shallowly at first, then further until his lips touched his fingers.
Looking up through his lashes, Patrick saw Jon leaning up on his forearms, eyes wide and face flushed as he watched. Patrick blinked and sucked harder, and Jon's head fell back, a long moan falling from his lips. Patrick smiled and pulled off, licking a stripe up Jon's cock and swirling his tongue around the head.
Patrick felt Jon's hand on the side of his face and leaned into the touch as he sucked; he could tell from the hitch in Jon's breathing, as well as the salty burst of pre-come on his tongue, that Jon was close. Patrick skated his fingers down from Jon's cock to press gently behind his balls as he took Jon into his mouth as far as he could without gagging. Jon's hips bucked under Patrick's restraining hand as he cried out wordlessly, and Patrick's throat worked, swallowing until Jon finally stilled.
He pulled back, wiping his mouth absently with the back of his hand, and moved up the bed to where Jon lay, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling rapidly. As Patrick watched, Jon opened his eyes and blinked, before grinning widely. Before Patrick could say anything, Jon reached up and pulled him down, kissing him deeply.
"That," Jon said at length, breathlessly, "was fucking brilliant. Why did we not do that before?"
Patrick shrugged, trying not to blush or look too smug, and Jon rolled his eyes.
"Whatever." He eyed Patrick's still-hard cock. "Do you want me to...?"
"I just...your hands," Patrick gasped out, too turned on to think coherently. "I'm not going to last, just. Please, Jon, god, please just touch me."
"I've got you," Jon murmured, rolling them over so that they were lying facing each other. He grabbed the lube (Patrick had decided the previous evening to bring some since it was more practical than hand lotion and, ironically, made him feel less gay) and squirted some on his hand, warming it between his palms. Leaning in to kiss Patrick, Jon reached down between them and began to stroke Patrick hard and fast. Patrick hadn't been lying when he'd said that he didn't think he would last; could already feel his orgasm building. He broke the kiss, throwing his head back as he came, the rush of pleasure so intense that he almost blacked out.
When he opened his eyes, Jon was smiling softly at him. Patrick smiled back, and realized with a sudden flash of clarity that he'd fallen absolutely and helplessly in love.
Next part
They spent the next hour or so in the shoe store--Patrick manfully avoiding any and all attempts Pete made to make him buy 'cool' shoes.
("But Patrick, look! They're so shiny!"
"They're ugly, man, how can you not see that?"
"But...ooh, ooh, you could buy this pair as a present for Jonwalker, like a first date present!"
"Pete, we're guys. We don't buy each other 'first date presents'. Besides, last night and today he was wearing flip flops; I don't know if he wears any other kind of shoe."
"Hahah, you've noticed his footwear? Aww, Patrick, you're such a romantic!"
"Shuttup.")
Finally, Pete settled on a pair of sneakers that Patrick would never have worn, ever, unless you paid him, like, a million dollars--but somehow suited Pete like they were made for him--and they left the store.
They ate lunch at a pizza place a few blocks down, kidding around they dripped tomato sauce all over their plates and, in Pete's case, all over his shirt.
"My god, you are such a child," Patrick sighed, throwing a handful of napkins at Pete.
"Shut up," Pete mumbled, wiping at the spreading stain on his shirt. "We're going to yours now anyway, so I can just change my shirt there."
Patrick blinked. "Um, what?"
Pete rolled his eyes. "Patrick. We need to get you ready for your date. I'm not letting you meet your boy wearing the same shirt you've been in all day, so we need to go back to yours so that you can change."
"But...I like this shirt!" Patrick protested, and Pete's eyes narrowed. Before Patrick could react, Pete stood up and dropped a sauce heavy piece of pizza on his shirt.
"Oops," Pete grinned, and Patrick glared at him.
"What the fuck did you do that for?" he spat out, grabbing one of the napkins from the table and wiping futilely at the sauce.
"Desperate times, Patrick m'boy. Desperate times." Off Patrick's look, Pete sighed. "Sorry, man. But you gave me no other choice."
"It's that important to you that I change my shirt?"
"No. It's important to you. You may both be guys, but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't make an effort. And if you turned up tonight wearing the same shirt as when you'd seen him earlier, that implies that you're not that bothered." Pete paid their bill, smiling at the waitress, and dragged Patrick to the car. "So yeah. It's important to you, so it's important to me."
God, Patrick hated it when he couldn't stay mad at Pete. "Fine," he sighed, hopping into the passenger seat. "But if this stain doesn't come out, I'm going to be pissed."
"Pfft, pizza sauce comes out fine," Pete said, his tone that of someone who is sure of himself through much experience. Patrick had no doubts that this was, in fact, the case, having shared pizza with Pete on more occasions than he could count.
Pete turned the stereo on almost straight away, playing Knockout's album at what felt like full volume and singing along. Well, what passed for singing with Pete. Patrick wasn't sure what he'd call it for anyone else. Patrick watched his best friend drumming the beat on the steering wheel and smiled, absently wondering if he'd have time to work out some beats at his own drum kit before he got ready for his date.
Oh, god. He was going on a date with Jon Walker.
He tried not to let the thought panic him. Jon seemed to like him--which he still couldn't completely believe--so that was the most difficult part taken care of. He also played in a band, so they had that in common.
Patrick suddenly realized that he really didn't know that much about Jon, and said so to Pete, who stopped singing long enough to laugh.
"God, Patrick, that's the whole point of a first date. You get to know each other. Didn't you guys talk when you were sitting together on the beach last night?"
"Not really," Patrick shrugged. "I mean, we were mostly talking to other people too, and didn't really get the chance to talk about anything like that."
Pete smirked. "And yet you had time to--"
"Do not finish that sentence, Peter," Patrick warned, flicking Pete on the arm.
"I'm just sayin'...."
"Well, don't, alright?" Patrick sat on his hands and squirmed a little, uncomfortable.
"Aww, you two are so adorable," Pete laughed, pulling the car into Patrick's driveway beside his brother’s truck. "Is Kevin in?"
"Nah, his truck broke down yesterday, which is why my mom needed the car back this morning. They're due back soon."
"And they don't know about Jon." It wasn't a question; Pete knew that Patrick wasn't out to his family yet, and it was always pretty awkward when Patrick went out with guys. Not that it happened that often--Patrick didn't tend to date much, girls or boys.
He shrugged. "It's not like they quiz me about my every move. I figured if they asked I could just tell them I was out with friends."
Pete sighed, leaning on the wall as Patrick unlocked the front door. "You'll have to tell them some time. I know your mom would understand."
"Yeah, I know, but... In my own time, 'kay?"
"Of course, man." Pete wrapped an arm around his shoulder in a brief hug before pulling away and heading towards the stairs. "Now, let's find you a shirt!"
Patrick winced. "You're going to help me pick out clothes?"
"Of course! What do you think I'm here for? I tell you, Patrickstump, I would not let you do this on your own."
Patrick opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment the front door opened and his mom walked in, carrying a grocery bag in each arm. Patrick ran to help her, kissing her on the cheek as he grabbed one of the bags before it fell.
"Oh, thank you, sweetheart," his mom said, a little breathlessly. "I thought that was going to go all over my clean floor." She looked up and smiled. "Hello, Peter, dear."
"Hey, Ms. Vaughn," Pete smiled charmingly, and Patrick rolled his eyes.
"Will you boys be in for dinner?" she asked as they followed her through to the kitchen.
"Uh, no, mom. I'm going out in a bit." He glanced at Pete, who looked like someone had kicked his dog. "I think Pete might want to stay, though."
His mom laughed. "You know you're always welcome here, Peter, but I think your mother might be a little hurt if you're always over here for dinner." She ruffled Pete's hair--a move Patrick had never seen anyone but his mom get away with--and pointed to the cookie jar. "I did bake some cookies yesterday, though, so why don't you boys grab a few and take them upstairs with you?"
"Ms. V., you are the best," Pete exclaimed, dashing over to the cookie jar.
"Thanks, mom," Patrick said, giving her a quick hug before going over to Pete and making sure he wasn't trying to take them all. They took a few each and hurried up the stairs, calling hello to his brother as he came in the front door, and ran up to Patrick's bedroom.
****
They chilled out for a while - Patrick insisted that he have at least a half hour with his drums, so Pete grabbed his guitar and they messed around with some riffs and beats for a while. As usual, it ended up with Pete just watching Patrick play, a small smile on his face.
"What?" Patrick asked, putting down his sticks and wiping sweat from his forehead and cheeks.
"Nothing." Pete was still smiling, but before Patrick could call him on it, Pete looked at his watch and yelped. "Dude! You need to go shower, like, right now so we can get you ready for tonight."
Patrick stood up and stretched, rolling the stiffness out of his shoulders--it had been too long since he had last had a proper drumming session, and his muscles felt out of practice.
"But it's only 4pm!" Patrick protested. "It's, like, two hours until I have to meet him."
"That's right. Only two hours." Pete began hustling him towards the door. "So you'd better get moving!"
Sighing, Patrick grabbed some clean clothes and headed into the bathroom. He really had to stop trying to argue with Pete. It only made his head spin.
***
"Um, Pete? What is that?"
Pete shook the hanger at him. "It's the shirt I bought for you while you were having coffee with JWalk. You should totally wear it tonight."
Patrick blinked, staring at the shirt incredulously. "It's, uh...it's pink. Why is it pink?"
"Because, Patrick, pink is totally in right now. Plus it's a Very Daring Statement."
"Pete... I'm not sure if you've noticed? But my hair is a very reddish blond. Pink clashes."
Pete's face fell. "Oh," he said, downcast, and Patrick immediately felt bad.
"I think it's an awesome shirt, though. I'd totally wear it if I had, like, your coloring," Patrick said reassuringly, and Pete immediately brightened.
"Ooh, maybe I should wear it, then," Pete said thoughtfully, holding it up against himself. Patrick resisted the urge to glare; it wasn't fair that Pete could even make a bright pink shirt look halfway decent.
"Still doesn't solve the problem of what I'm going to wear tonight, though." Patrick frowned into his closet, dismissing as many shirts as he looked at.
"What about the dark blue button down?" Pete asked, pushing past Patrick and grabbing the shirt off a hanger. "It brings out the color of your eyes." Pete batted his eyelashes, and Patrick laughed, pulling the shirt over his head.
"How's that?" he asked, pulling on a white cap and trying to hide his nerves.
"You'll do," Pete smiled fondly at him. "Now, c'mon. Time to go. You should get there a little early, grab a coffee while you wait for him."
Patrick nodded, wiping his palms on his jeans. "Okay. Let's go."
***
Patrick left his mom's car in the parking lot closest to the Starbucks and walked quickly towards the coffee shop. Pete had left him in his driveway with a clap to the shoulder and a cheery, "Good luck!" but Patrick almost wished that he was still there, a comforting presence to ease his own awkwardness.
Walking through the door, Patrick glanced around, looking to see if he could spot Jon. It was only quarter to six, and Patrick worried that he might look overeager. As soon as he saw Jon standing behind the counter, though, he knew he needn't have worried; the look on the other boy's face made Patrick's stomach flip.
"Hey," Patrick said, leaning on the counter.
"Hey," Jon smiled. "You know I don't get off for another ten minutes?"
Patrick nodded, trying not to blush. "Figured I'd come and get a coffee while I waited, if that's okay?"
"Of course! Hazelnut latte?"
Patrick nodded, handing over the money when Jon rang it up on the till. A queue was forming behind him, so he didn't hang around, instead grabbing his coffee and finding a seat close to the counter. He tried to watch Jon work without being too obvious about it, but didn't think he was particularly successful, especially when he saw one of the other baristas glance over, smile, and then say something to Jon. Patrick lowered his head and stared at his coffee, embarrassed.
"Hey." Patrick smiled up at Jon, who had materialized next to his chair and was in the process of undoing his apron. "I'm just going to go change and clock out, and then I'll be good to go, 'kay?"
"Okay." Patrick took a sip of his coffee, trying to get rid of the sudden wave of nervousness which overcame him.
"Awesome." Jon leaned over, then picked up Patrick's coffee and took a sip, before handing it back to him with a grin. Patrick stared after him as he wandered towards the door marked 'Staff Only', then picked up the mug, drinking from the same spot as Jon and smiling dorkily to himself.
***
Patrick had almost finished his coffee when Jon came back out to meet him, nearly fifteen minutes later. Patrick had started to wonder if maybe Jon had realized that he'd made a mistake, and had escaped through some back exit. Instead, it looked as though Jon had changed his whole outfit. He was wearing a fresh shirt--a dove grey button-down instead of the black he'd worn earlier. He also seemed to have changed his jeans, although he was still wearing the same flip flops he'd been wearing for work. Patrick was pretty sure that they probably constituted a health and safety hazard, especially since there was a danger of hot coffee spillage, but had the feeling that no-one would even consider speaking to him about it - they were just part of the overall Jon Walker package.
Swallowing the last sip of coffee so fast he only narrowly avoided choking on it, Patrick stood up as Jon approached his table. As he came nearer, Patrick noticed that Jon's hair looked damp, as if he had tried to do something with it. Suddenly glad that Pete had forced him to go home and change, Patrick smiled nervously.
"We, uh. We good to go?"
Jon nodded, and they walked towards the door. Jon held it open for him, putting a hand on his arm as he passed. "By the way...you look great," he said, blushing a little.
"Thanks! Uh, you look really good too," Patrick said as Jon followed him out onto the street. "I, uh, I like your shirt."
"Thanks." Jon grinned lopsidedly. "I have a confession to make, though."
"Yeah?"
"Tom picked it out for me."
Patrick laughed. "Yeah, well, Pete picked out mine."
Jon chuckled. "God, are we really that hopeless?"
"Well, our friends seem to think so." Patrick cleared his throat. "So, um, what do you want to do?"
Jon shrugged. "I was thinking that we could maybe get a bite to eat, then maybe go watch a movie? I haven't had a chance to see the new X-Men movie yet, if you're interested."
"That sounds awesome! I haven't seen it yet either. We were so busy with the album and stuff when it was released we didn't have time."
"Cool," Jon nodded. "So, uh, where do you want to eat? Or should we just grab, like, hot dogs and nachos before the movie?"
"Sounds good to me," Patrick smiled, and they set off in the direction of the nearest cinema.
It wasn't a particularly long walk, but neither of them seemed to be in a hurry to get there, walking at a leisurely pace as they talked about their favorite comic-book movies.
"I loved the original Batman movies--you know, the Tim Burton ones?" Patrick said wistfully. "Before they made the other two, which were so bad it was almost upsetting."
"Almost?"
Patrick laughed. "Okay, not so much 'almost'. But seriously, what were they thinking?"
"I hear they're talking about making a new one."
"Oh my god, tell me it isn't Schumacher," Patrick said pleadingly, staring at Jon with wide eyes.
Jon shook his head. "I heard it was Christopher Nolan."
"Nolan?" Patrick thought for a few moments. "Memento?"
"Yup."
"Huh. Well, we'll see. I'm not holding my breath, though."
Jon grinned. "Yeah, it's always best not to be too optimistic about these things." He shrugged, holding the door of the cinema open for Patrick. "But at least this one has a reputable director, right?"
"Hmm, I guess," Patrick said dubiously, heading towards the line to buy tickets. He thought Nolan was a great director, but his style tended towards overly internalized and tortured main characters. Which was fine in some movies, but when it came to superheroes that was exactly what people always groaned about; the tortured hero with a dark, brooding demeanor. Although, Patrick mused, anything had to be better than the last two.
As soon as they had their tickets and food they wandered through to their screen, automatically going straight through the empty room to sit at the back. The trailers weren't even due to start for another ten minutes, so Patrick wasn't surprised that they were the only ones there, especially since it wasn't exactly a new release. They settled into their seats, eating their hotdogs and trading popcorn and nachos between them.
While they waited for the showing to start, they discussed the music they liked; Jon had been listening to a lot of The Beatles--Abbey Road in particular--while Patrick had been listening to a female singer/songwriter called Regina Spektor he'd heard at a friend's house.
As the trailers played, people began to trickle into the theatre, but by the time the movie started not even half the seats were taken. Most people had sat in the middle or near the front, and Patrick wondered nervously if it was obvious that he and Jon were on a date. He quickly decided that this was unlikely; if they were being avoided, it was probably because the other movie goers thought they might cause some kind of disturbance.
The movie was pretty good; not entirely what he had expected, but still fun. He could see Jon out of the corner of his eye, and Patrick thought he looked like he was enjoying it too. Biting his lip to hide a goofy grin, Patrick grabbed a handful of popcorn.
Wiping his greasy hands on a napkin, Patrick glanced over at Jon, flashing a quick smile when he caught Jon watching him. The other boy blushed, wiping at his own hands, and Patrick suddenly wished that they had gone back to the beach because maybe then they would be kissing by now.
He relaxed into his seat and took a sip of his Dr. Pepper, leaning on the armrest when he was done. A few minutes later, he felt Jon brush against his arm, and when he turned his head to smile, Jon smiled back and slipped his hand into Patrick's, entwining their fingers. Patrick felt his mouth go dry and blinked, giving into his impulses and leaning forward to give Jon a quick kiss. When he tried to sit back, though, Jon pulled him back in, kissing him deeply. When they finally pulled apart, Patrick tried not to whimper in disappointment. He could have cared less about the movie, and would happily have left at that moment if it meant that they could just keep doing that.
But Jon had already relaxed back into his chair and was once again concentrating on what was happening on-screen. Sighing, Patrick followed suit, watching as the X-Men's helicopter landed in Bobby's front yard.
***
"I can't believe they did that."
Jon looked genuinely distressed, and Patrick had to try not to laugh.
"Dude, seriously, it's only a movie," he said, trying to be soothing.
"But they killed Famke Janssen!"
Patrick smiled. "Hmm."
"What?" Jon looked at him suspiciously. "Wait, do you know something about it? Is it something I should know too?"
"Only if you want spoiled for the next movie, if they ever make it," Patrick said, licking the last piece of ice cream from the spoon. Since they had gone to such an early showing of the movie, it was still pretty early when they had left, and they had decided to get some ice cream and eat it on Rainbow Beach.
"Patrick. Tell me."
Patrick smiled. "She's not really dead. You remember the weird shadow that was over the water?" Jon narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment before nodding. "Well, that shadow was of a phoenix, and that's what she becomes --The Phoenix. So she's not really dead."
"Good," Jon sighed. "I liked her."
"Hmm, well, you might not when you see what she turns into."
Jon pouted adorably, then smiled. "Well, they'd better hurry up with a third one, then. I want to see for myself." Finishing his ice cream, Jon set the empty tub down on the sand and leaned his head on Patrick's shoulder. Patrick froze for a second, then brought an arm up to wrap loosely around Jon's waist.
They sat like that in silence for a while, huddled into each other for warmth, before Patrick finally spoke.
"I, uh...I had a really great time tonight," he said quietly.
Jon lifted his head, turning to look at Patrick. "Yeah, me too," he smiled, before leaning in for a kiss.
Jon tasted like coffee at first- Patrick was amazed that he could stand to eat coffee ice cream after working in a cafe all day, but Jon had just laughed when he'd pointed this out. The longer they kissed, though, the more he just tasted like Jon, and Patrick moaned a little as he shifted, trying to pull Jon even closer.
Jon seemed to get the hint and moved so that he was straddling Patrick's lap, pressing in close. Patrick wrapped his arms around the other boy, hands restlessly kneading at the soft fabric of Jon's shirt. But when Jon tried to push him backwards onto the sand, obviously wanting more, Patrick stopped him.
"What?" Jon asked, looking puzzled.
"I just...I don't want to take this too fast, alright?" Jon raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Patrick continued. "I know...last night, but. Besides, you're only seventeen, and I'm...."
"Only just nineteen?" Jon finished for him, and Patrick sighed.
"Either way, I'd just...I don't want to rush things, or make you think I was taking advantage, y'know?"
Jon brought a hand up to card through Patrick's hair. "Dude. We're not girls. You don't have to have some kind of chivalrous code of conduct with me."
Patrick rolled his eyes. "We don't have to be girls for me to really like you and want it to mean something other than just sex," he said quietly, and Jon stared at him for a moment.
"You really like me that much?" he asked in a low voice, and Patrick nodded, afraid that maybe he'd said too much. But Jon smiled and kissed him gently. "I really like you too," he said, standing and holding out a hand to help Patrick up.
"So you're not mad?" Patrick asked.
"Of course not. I don't think it would be just sex, but if you'd rather wait for the third date..." Jon gave him a mischievous grin. "Oh, wait, wouldn't that be the next one?"
Patrick laughed, kissing him again before getting into the car. "Whatever."
****
He dropped Jon off at his house, killing the engine when he pulled over to the curb. "Um. When can I see you again?" he asked.
"How about tomorrow? There's always stuff going on in the parks on Sundays, or we could maybe hang out here and watch some DVDs since my parents are going away for a week tomorrow afternoon?"
"Sure," Patrick said, and Jon grinned.
"Awesome." With one last quick kiss, he opened the car door and got out waving to Patrick as he walked up the path. As soon as he was inside, Patrick drove home, and didn't stop smiling until he fell asleep.
***
Patrick woke up the next morning to the sound of his phone ringing insistently right next to his ear. Groaning, he grabbed it and rolled over as he hit the 'accept call' button.
"Mmh'llo?" he mumbled sleepily, trying to wake up enough to form actual words.
"Patrick, you bastard, you were meant to call me as soon as you got home last night to let me know how it went with Jon and you didn't."
"Uh, sorry? I got home pretty late and then my mom wanted to talk to me about my aunt's birthday, and I totally forgot."
Pete sighed heavily into the phone. "Whatever, man. So how did it go? I demand details! Except, y'know, not those kinds of details, because I have no desire to have an intimate knowledge of your sex life."
Patrick pulled his duvet over his head. It was too fucking early to deal with this. "What do you want to know?"
"Have you not been paying attention? Tell me everything! Did you go out to dinner? Movie? Both? Something else? Did he look hot?"
Patrick laughed, some of the sleep-fog starting to clear from his brain. "We grabbed some food at the cinema, and we went to see the new X-Men movie. We shared popcorn and nachos. And yes. He looked extremely hot."
"Did you make out in the back row?" Patrick stayed silent. "Haha, you did, didn't you? That's awesome. What did you do when the movie was finished?"
"We got some ice cream and ate it on Rainbow Beach, and then I gave him a ride home."
"Did you have sex?" Pete asked, and Patrick knew that he was leering at the phone as he spoke.
"Dude! What? That is none of your business."
"Aw, c'mon, Patrick," Pete said in a wheedling tone. "I need to know, so that I can live vicariously through you, since I haven't been laid in, like, forever."
Patrick rubbed at his forehead, reaching over to grab his glasses and push them onto his nose. "Dude. What about that girl at the bar last week?"
"Whatever, don't change the subject. Point is, you have to tell me, Patrick Stump. I need to know."
Sighing, Patrick realized that Pete wouldn't drop it until he got an answer. "No, Pete. We didn't have sex."
"Why the hell not?"
Patrick rolled his eyes. "Maybe because not everything is about that? God, Pete, seriously."
"I'd disagree, but since you two are so disgustingly cute I'll let it go." Patrick could practically hear Pete's grin. "So, when are you seeing him again?"
"Today. I'm going over late afternoon to watch some DVDs 'cause his parents are away for a week."
There was silence for a moment, then Pete squeaked out a hurried, "Don't go anywhere," and the line went dead. Patrick stared at his phone for a second, then threw it and his glasses onto his bedside table, before turning over and going back to sleep.
***
"Patrick. Patrick. Patrickpatrickpatrickpatrickpatrickpatrickpatrickpatrickpat--."
"What, oh my god, if you do not shut up and stop bouncing on me I will kill you." Patrick pulled the covers off of his head and glared at the annoying best-friend currently jumping up and down on his legs like some kind of hyperactive puppy.
"You wouldn't wake up, so I had to wake you up. It's not my fault you sleep like a brick, Patrick," Pete said sternly. "Now, you need to get up, because if you're going over to JWalk's this afternoon, you will need to start getting ready soon."
Putting on his glasses, Patrick looked at his clock, groaning when he saw that it was only ten am.
"Oh my god, I hate you so much right now."
"Pfft, you don't hate me. You'd never hate me." Then Pete's expression changed, going from cocky to distressed. "You wouldn't...would you?"
"No, dude, don't be stupid." Patrick smiled reassuringly at his friend. For all that Pete could be an annoying bastard, Patrick didn't think that he could ever hate him.
"Good," Pete sighed in relief, clambering off the bed. "But seriously, you need to get up."
"But why?" Patrick asked plaintively.
Pete looked slightly shifty. "Well, mostly it's because we have to figure out what you're wearing today, but. Also, your mom said she was going to make pancakes for breakfast."
"You woke me up because you couldn't get pancakes at your own house?"
"Oh, I did. But your mom's pancakes are different from my mom's, so I feel that I need both to survive."
Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god, you're so weird," he muttered, but climbed out of bed anyway, heading straight towards the bathroom --ostensibly to shower, but really because he wanted some peace and quiet so that he could think about his date the day before, and how Jon's eyes lit up when he smiled.
***
"Okay, Patrick, if you don't stop messing with your hair then I am just going to cut it all off. Seriously."
Patrick glared at Pete. "I have seen you mess around with your hair for two hours before a date, so shut up."
Pete rolled his eyes. "Yes, but, Patrick, my hair looked like I had been dragged through a hedge. Yours, on the other hand, looks fine. Now seriously, stop."
"Yeah, well," Patrick grumbled, reaching for his phone as it beeped to announce that he had a new message. Noting that it was from an unfamiliar number, he pushed the 'read message' button and stared.
'hey patrick, u still comin ovr 2day? 2pm good? jwalk'
"Is that from Jon? Let me see!"
"No!" Patrick moved his phone out of reach of Pete's grabbyhands. "No wonder I didn’t recognize the number.”
Pete gave him a look which was equal parts disdain and disbelief. "You mean you hadn't exchanged numbers? Oh my god, you guys are so lame."
"I thought we were cute?"
"You're lamely cute. Or cutely lame. Whatever.”
"Oh." Picking up his phone, Patrick replied:
'2pm sounds gr8. cu then! patrick'
"Did you put little 'x's and 'o's?"
"Um, no. Because we're not girls."
"I put 'xo' at the end of text messages," Pete said, and Patrick shoved at his shoulder.
"Well, yeah, but you're a total girl," he grinned, dodging when Pete swiped at him.
"You're mean, Patrick Stump," Pete huffed, blowing his bangs off his face as he looked at his watch. "Well, we've got an hour to kill. What do you want to do?"
Patrick picked up his guitar. "I've been thinking about this riff, but I'm not sure on the timing. What do you think?"
***
Patrick pulled into Jon's driveway at two minutes past two, thanking his lucky stars that there hadn't been any traffic cops about to see him breaking the speed limit to get here on time. One riff had led to another, and before Patrick had realized it Pete was looking at his watch and crying out, "Oh, shit, Patrick, you have to go, like, ten minutes ago!"
Straightening his cap, Patrick climbed out of the car and walked up to Jon's door. He pushed the doorbell, startled when Jon answered the door almost immediately.
"Um, hey," Jon said, looking slightly shifty. "I, uh, heard your car."
"Oh." Patrick smiled nervously, and Jon bit his lip.
"Uh. You'd better come in," Jon said in a low voice, slighty breathlessly, "because I really kinda want to kiss you right now and I'd rather not do it where the neighbors can see."
Patrick stared at Jon for a second in disbelief, then followed him into the house. He had no sooner closed the door than he was pushed up against it, Jon's hands cupping his face as they kissed almost desperately.
Losing himself in the slipslide of lips and tongues, Patrick shifted slightly, hands coming up to clutch at Jon's back. He lost track of how long they stood there, before Jon finally pulled back, eyes shining.
"Hey," he said hoarsely, reaching down to pick up Patrick's cap from the floor where it had fallen. Patrick took it and put it back on, slipping his arms around Jon's waist.
"So, do I get a tour?"
"Sure!" Jon showed him around the first floor, pointing up the stairs when he got there with, "And the bedrooms are up there, but, um, I can show you that later." He smirked at Patrick through his lashes, and Patrick felt his mouth dry up.
Leading him through to the lounge, Jon went over to the TV and switched it on. "So, um, do you want to watch a movie?"
"Sure," Patrick nodded, sitting down on the sofa. "What have you got?"
"Uh...action, adventure, comedy...Disney?"
Patrick laughed as Jon held up Aladdin. "Maybe later, but only if you promise to sing along."
Jon snorted. "Man, if you can watch Disney without singing along, I'd be surprised. I don't think anyone can."
"True." He pointed towards one of the DVDs on the shelf. "Oh, man, is that Batman?"
"Yeah, want to watch it?"
Patrick nodded, and Jon set it up, grabbing the remote and bounding back to the sofa, sitting down right down close to Patrick. Taking a nervous breath, Patrick lifted his arm invitingly; Jon immediately snuggled into his side, sighing contentedly as Patrick rested his arm across his shoulders.
Patrick was glad that he had seen the movie before, because there was no way he could have concentrated with Jon's warmth plastered against his side, occasionally reaching across him to grab a glass of soda or a handful of Pringles. He loved Tim Burton, and thought that his portrayal of the Batman universe was incomparable--especially considering the travesties that were Batman Forever and Batman and Robin--but for the first time, Patrick found that he couldn't lose himself in the story.
The movie was barely forty minutes in when Jon laid his glass down and climbed into Patrick's lap. Patrick narrowed his eyes playfully, and pretended to try and watch the movie over Jon's shoulder. Laughing, Jon dropped his head onto Patrick's shoulder, nuzzling at his neck.
"Do you really want to watch the movie that much?" he asked, voice muffled on Patrick's skin. "Because I can sit back down."
Patrick immediately wrapped his arms around the other boy, holding him in place. "Nonono, you can't go. I won't let you."
"No?"
Patrick leaned up, kissing him softly. "No."
***
By the time the credits rolled, they were lying together across the sofa, pressed so tightly that Patrick wasn't entirely sure where Jon ended and he began. His whole awareness was of Jon: Jon's mouth moving against his, alternating between gentle and demanding; Jon's hands roaming over his body, occasionally coming to rest on his hip, or on the skin under his t-shirt; the hard line of Jon's cock alongside his own, ignored for now but not forgotten; the breathy gasps and quiet moans whenever they shifted in a certain way.
"Should I put something else on?" Jon muttered against his lips between kisses.
"I think we're good. Although you could take something off," he said, tugging meaningfully at Jon's shirt. Jon grinned at him, and then there was a confused tangle of limbs as both Jon and Patrick tried to remove their shirts without disentangling too much. The feel of skin-on-skin was worth the effort, though, and Patrick wriggled closer, trying to get more.
Jon trailed his mouth down to Patrick's ear, nibbling gently. Patrick arched up, bitten-off fingernails digging into Jon's shoulders....
And at that moment Jon's stomach gave an almighty growl. Patrick couldn't help it; he burst out laughing, even as Jon flushed crimson.
"Shut up, I'm hungry!"
"It's cool, I'm kinds hungry too. D'you wanna order pizza?"
Jon nodded, climbing awkwardly off the sofa to fetch a menu, and Patrick grinned to himself as they debated toppings.
***
They ate their pizza at the kitchen table, shirts having been hastily pulled back on when the delivery guy had knocked.
"So, uh." Jon grinned at him, cheese dripping down his chin. "Disney after we've eaten?"
Patrick laughed in equal parts surprise and delight. "Only if you promise to sing for me."
Jon leaned towards him, smirking. "Right now? I'd pretty much promise to do anything you wanted," he said coyly, and Patrick almost choked on his pizza.
"That's...good?" he managed finally, taking a sip of Dr. Pepper to try and clear his throat.
"Are you alright?" Jon asked, looking concerned, and Patrick nodded.
"I, um. Bathroom?"
Jon pointed down the hall, and Patrick went into the bathroom, standing over the sink and breathed deeply. He wasn't sure where this was going... Okay. So he had a fair idea where it was going, but he didn't know how far, or. Fuck. And then there was the fact that Jon was still only seventeen, and Patrick could go to jail, oh my god.
Splashing some water on his face, Patrick sighed, drying himself off and putting his glasses back on. Steeling himself, he walked back through to the kitchen, where Jon was putting his pizza box into the fridge.
"Hey, I'm full. Figure it'll do breakfast." Jon motioned towards Patrick's pizza. "You still hungry?"
Patrick shook his head. "Nah, I'm done." Jon nodded and put the box in the fridge on top of his.
"You got space for popcorn?" Jon asked, shaking a bag at him. "We could stick on Die Hard and mock the bad dialogue."
"Sounds good," Patrick smiled, and Jon grinned.
***
"Oh, my god, what is with that accent?"
"Oh, come on, it's not that bad."
Jon gestured towards the TV with a handful of popcorn, almost dislodging Patrick's arm from around his shoulders. "It's not that great, either," he said, laying his head back on Patrick's chest. "Don't get me wrong, I think Alan Rickman is awesome, but this just isn't his best movie."
Patrick laughed, bringing his hand up to card through Jon's hair. "It's Die Hard, dude. Not Shakespeare."
"Yeah, Shakespeare wasn't his best role either," Jon said, practically purring as he pushed his head into Patrick's touch. "There were man-tights."
Patrick shuddered at the thought. "Why do people insist on putting those in movies? Like David Bowie in Labyrinth, my god, that scarred me for life."
"Yeah. I'd never wear those," Jon said.
"I doubt you will ever be called upon to, Jon Walker."
"Hmm." Jon turned his head a little, nuzzling Patrick's cheek. "That's probably just as well. I wouldn't want to traumatize you."
Patrick didn't reply; instead moving his head and pressing his lips against Jon's. Jon moaned and deepened the kiss, before pulling back.
"I, uh," he said breathlessly, eyes wide. "I think, um. My bed is way more comfortable than the sofa?" He looked nervous, totally unsure of himself, and Patrick was caught between being extremely turned on and freaking out again about Jon's age.
"Only if. If you're sure," Patrick said earnestly, rubbing at the back of his neck.
Jon stood up, reaching out a hand to pull Patrick up beside him. "C'mon," Jon smiled, and led him towards the stairs.
***
Jon's room was...very much like Patrick's room, actually; a few posters of bands on the wall, a couple of guitars, nondescript bedspread, some pictures tacked above his bed, and random socks on the floor. Jon smiled nervously and tugged Patrick over to the bed.
They sat down next to each other, and Patrick stared at his shoes.
"So. Um. What do you...?"
"I...I think you should kiss me, like, right now," Jon said, voice slightly unsteady, and Patrick was more than happy to oblige. Bringing a hand up to cup Jon's jaw as they kissed, Patrick was pretty sure that he could never get tired of this. But then Jon shifted, hand clutching high up on Patrick's thigh, and he pulled back to take a shaky breath.
"God, I need..." he panted, and Jon nodded, clambering backwards up the bed. He held out a hand, and Patrick kicked off his shoes, crawling up to where Jon lay and settling between his open thighs.
"Hey," Jon said, grinning, and Patrick smiled. He shifted so that he was leaning on his forearms, and dipped his head down, catching Jon's lips with his own.
Patrick kept himself propped above Jon as they kissed, trying to make sure that he didn't crush the other boy with his full weight. But Jon obviously had other ideas, wrapping his arms and legs around Patrick and pulling him in. Patrick groaned at the sudden pressure on his cock, biting gently at Jon's lower lip as Jon shifted to clutch at Patrick's back under his shirt.
"Mmph, take it off," Jon mumbled, and Patrick could hear the desperation in his tone. Torn between wanting to get back to skin on skin and not wanting to stop kissing Jon, possibly ever, Patrick tried to pull off Jon's shirt too quickly, succeeding only in tangling them both up in fabric. Laughing, they pulled back, stripping off their own shirts and tossing them off to the side. Patrick moved back on top of Jon, kisses becoming more desperate and heated.
Patrick gasped as Jon's fingers dug into his back, partly with pain--he could feel bruises beginning to blossom already but couldn't bring himself to care. But then Jon's hands slipped lower, under the waistband of his jeans, and Patrick pulled back as Jon tugged ineffectually at his belt loops.
"Are you...are you sure?" Patrick asked, trying to make his tone sound serious and not like the breathy whine it was trying to come out as.
Jon smiled at him. "Yes, Patrick, I'm sure. And you can stop asking me that, because, seriously, do I seem like the kind of person who's going to do anything they're not sure about?"
"Well, um, I guess not?"
"Exactly," Jon said, fingers skimming around Patrick's waist to tease at his hipbones. "Now, can we please get naked?"
Patrick nodded, suddenly nervous. What if he didn't meet Jon's expectations? What if he wasn't...? But Jon was kissing him again, and any thoughts other than clothes off NOW were lost. There was an awkward tussle as they tried undoing buttons and zippers, and then pulling off clothes, but then Patrick's eyes nearly rolled back in his head because holymotherofgod, that felt really fucking good.
He looked down at Jon, slightly surprised to see the other boy’s gaze darting around nervously, his face flushing.
“Hey,” Patrick said softly, nosing gently at Jon’s cheek. “What’s up?”
“I, uh. I’ve just…I’ve maybe never been, y’know, naked with another guy. Before.”
Patrick’s eyes widened in shock. “You mean I’m…? Fuck.” He buried his face in Jon’s neck, trying to calm his racing heart. “That’s, um. I mean, have you ever…?”
“I’ve, y’know, I’ve fooled around, but never. Never this far. Not with another guy.” Patrick felt Jon nudging his shoulder and leaned up on his elbows so he could see Jon’s face. “I want…I’m glad it’s you, though,” Jon smiled, and Patrick felt his face split in a dorky grin.
“Me too,” he mumbled, shifting his hips and watching as Jon’s head fell back, mouth open in a drawn-out moan. “Do you have any, uh, lotion?” he asked, and Jon reached over to the bedside table, grabbing a bottle and handing it to Patrick. Squeezing some onto his palm, Patrick moved so that he was kissing Jon again, and reached between their bodies, wrapping his hand around both of them. It was difficult--he didn’t exactly have huge hands--but judging by the noises Jon was making against his mouth it didn’t really matter. He stroked them both together, trying to set up a rhythm, to make it good for Jon, but it was hard when he could feel his brain trying to short out with pleasure.
But then Jon’s hips stuttered and Patrick jerked back in time to watch Jon’s face as he came over Patrick’s hand and both their stomachs. Jon’s face went slack as his chest rose and fell rapidly, and Patrick stilled his hand, letting Jon recover. Then Jon opened his eyes, smiling lazily, and pulled Patrick’s head down, muttering, “C’mon, come for me, want to see, Patrick, Patrickpatrickpatrickpatrick,” and Patrick thrust once, twice into the hollow of Jon’s hip and came, brain exploding behind his eyeballs as he panted Jon’s name onto sweaty skin.
They lay like that for a few moments, breathing almost totally in sync, before Jon pushed gently at Patrick’s shoulder.
“Ugh, we really should get cleaned up.”
Patrick nodded in agreement, and stood up, grabbing onto the side of the bed as his knees tried to give way. He wandered out to the bathroom down the hall--directed by Jon, who was calling instructions from the bed--and came back with damp washcloths. They cleaned themselves up, and Jon pulled the sheets over them as Patrick spooned behind him, trying to fit them both on the tiny single bed. He pressed a kiss to Jon’s shoulder and yawned, before falling asleep to the sound of Jon’s breathing.
***
When Patrick woke again it was dark, and it took him a second before he remembered where he was. As they had slept, they had pressed even closer together, one of Patrick’s legs tangling between Jon’s. Jon was an absolute furnace when he slept, even more than Pete, and everywhere their skin was pressed together was sticky with sweat.
Patrick shifted slightly, trying to move without waking Jon, but no sooner had he freed his leg than Jon turned, almost ninja-fast, latching his mouth onto the skin under Patrick’s jaw. Patrick made a slight squeaking noise high in his throat, and Jon laughed sleepily.
“Mmm, hi there,” Jon murmured, arm snaking around Patrick’s waist to pull him closer.
Patrick tilted his head to allow Jon access as he kissed his way from Patrick’s chin to his ear, nibbling lightly on the lobe. “Hi yourself,” Patrick breathed back, grinning as Jon squirmed against him. “What time is it?”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Jon’s voice was almost completely muffled by Patrick’s skin, and Patrick took a few seconds to figure out what he’d said.
Reaching past Jon, Patrick grabbed the clock from Jon’s bedside table and peered at it. “Oh, crap!” he hissed, eyes widening. “Is that the time? I should be getting home soon; my mom needs the car again in the morning.”
Jon pulled back, eyes pleading. “Do you think…I mean, could you stay? My parents are away for a week, and you could just tell them that you’re staying at a friend’s, if you wanted to. You don’t have to, but I just thought that maybe it might be an idea if you….”
Patrick leaned in and kissed him, stopping the nervous babbling. “I’d love to, seriously. But don’t you have school tomorrow?” Jon’s face fell, and Patrick kissed him again. “Maybe we could meet up after you finish school? Have dinner, watch another movie?”
“Make out?” Jon grinned, and Patrick rolled his eyes.
“Well, duh.”
“Hmm, I guess that will have to do, then.” Jon smiled at him, and Patrick knew he should really get dressed, but Jon was still so sleepsoft and pliant, and really, one more kiss before he left wouldn’t make much difference….
When Patrick arrived back home an hour and a half later, he tripped cheerfully up the stairs to shower, already impatient for it to be the next evening.
***
Patrick was finishing his morning coffee when Pete burst into his kitchen, hands flailing.
"Patrickstump, you did it again, seriously, what is wrong with you, can you not remember one simple..." Pete suddenly went quiet, staring at Patrick. "Oh my god, did you get laid?"
"Pete!" Patrick groaned. "How many times? My private life is private, and therefore none of your business."
Pete snorted. "I'd be worried about you if you really believed that. Now, tell me, did you have gay sex with our virginal Jon Walker?"
"Pete, I told you...wait. Virginal?"
"Well, gay virginal. Did you not know?"
Patrick had known Pete too long to trust his wide eyed look. "Where did you hear this?"
"Oh, I have my sources," Pete said airily. "And my sources tell me that Jon Walker has not been this serious about a boy before, and since he is not the kind of boy to have sex with just anyone, it stands to reason."
Patrick raised an eyebrow. "This source wouldn't have happened to be Bill Beckett, would it?"
"Um, maybe?"
"And by 'just anyone', Bill wouldn't have happened to mean himself, would he?"
"Probably?" Pete shoved Patrick's shoulder. "Doesn't make it any less true though." He smiled goofily, and Patrick hid a grin of his own. "I think it's kinda sweet."
"Whatever. Can we please change the subject?"
Pete narrowed his eyes, as if trying to judge whether or not he could get away with annoying Patrick any more about it. Patrick met his gaze steadily, and eventually Pete smiled. "Alright, fine. So what are you doing today?"
Patrick shrugged. "Practicing, probably. I just don't want to screw this tour up, y'know? I mean, this is our chance to maybe get more people interested in what we're doing, and. I don't know, I just...."
"Yeah. I know." And Patrick knew that he did; wondered, sometimes, if he would ever understand quite how important this was for Pete. It was important to Patrick too, sure - but for Pete, it seemed more vital. It may have been Patrick's music, but they were mostly Pete's words, and Patrick knew that Pete's compulsive need to pour his soul into his words was at odds with a fragility that worried Patrick sometimes. "Think I might stick around and practice with you."
"Awesome," Patrick nodded. "Only until three thirty, though."
"Why?"
Patrick shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, and well aware that he was failing miserably. "I'm meeting Jon after he finishes school; we're gonna hang out."
"Oh, you are, huh?" Pete was smirking again, and seriously, he needed to stop that right now.
Ignoring him, Patrick got up from the table and headed towards his room to get dressed, rolling his eyes at Pete's sudden bray of laughter.
***
Patrick was convinced that he should never, ever stop kissing Jon. This wasn't a new thought; he'd had it at various moments over the past few days, during evenings spent in bed with Jon, flushed and sweating. They hadn't moved past hands yet, mostly because Patrick still didn't want to push Jon.
Tonight, though, Jon pulled back from Patrick as they kissed, causing Patrick to wonder if something was wrong.
"You've got to stop this, seriously," Jon said, smiling, resting his cheek on the pillow. "I'm not going to break, and you're not forcing me into anything, okay? If there's something that I don't want to do, I will let you know."
Patrick chuckled. "I'll take that under advisement."
"Good." Jon looked at him coyly from under his lashes, and Patrick leaned forward on impulse, kissing Jon deeply. Moving so that he was leaning over Jon slightly, he traced his fingers gently over Jon's skin, smiling as he skimmed over a particularly ticklish area of Jon's ribcage. When he reached Jon's boxer-briefs, he paused, teasing lightly at the waistband until Jon moved his hips, trying to get Patrick's hand where he wanted it. Patrick chuckled, taking pity on Jon and pulling off his underwear. He broke the kiss and began to mouth at Jon's jaw, trailing kisses down Jon's throat as his hands stroked Jon's hipbones. He bit gently at Jon's collarbone, his cock jumping at the cut-off, "Ah-aah," sound this drew from Jon.
Tired of teasing, Patrick slid down the bed, resting his cheek on Jon's thigh. He had wanted to do this the previous night, but wasn't sure if he was going too fast. After Jon's reassurances, though, he could no longer resist. Leaning forward, and making sure his hands were holding Jon's hips in place, Patrick sucked the head of Jon's cock into his mouth.
Jon's breath hissed, as his hips jerked in a way that made Patrick glad that he'd had the forethought to hold him down. He shifted so that one hand was holding the base of Jon's cock, and began bobbing his head, taking Jon in shallowly at first, then further until his lips touched his fingers.
Looking up through his lashes, Patrick saw Jon leaning up on his forearms, eyes wide and face flushed as he watched. Patrick blinked and sucked harder, and Jon's head fell back, a long moan falling from his lips. Patrick smiled and pulled off, licking a stripe up Jon's cock and swirling his tongue around the head.
Patrick felt Jon's hand on the side of his face and leaned into the touch as he sucked; he could tell from the hitch in Jon's breathing, as well as the salty burst of pre-come on his tongue, that Jon was close. Patrick skated his fingers down from Jon's cock to press gently behind his balls as he took Jon into his mouth as far as he could without gagging. Jon's hips bucked under Patrick's restraining hand as he cried out wordlessly, and Patrick's throat worked, swallowing until Jon finally stilled.
He pulled back, wiping his mouth absently with the back of his hand, and moved up the bed to where Jon lay, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling rapidly. As Patrick watched, Jon opened his eyes and blinked, before grinning widely. Before Patrick could say anything, Jon reached up and pulled him down, kissing him deeply.
"That," Jon said at length, breathlessly, "was fucking brilliant. Why did we not do that before?"
Patrick shrugged, trying not to blush or look too smug, and Jon rolled his eyes.
"Whatever." He eyed Patrick's still-hard cock. "Do you want me to...?"
"I just...your hands," Patrick gasped out, too turned on to think coherently. "I'm not going to last, just. Please, Jon, god, please just touch me."
"I've got you," Jon murmured, rolling them over so that they were lying facing each other. He grabbed the lube (Patrick had decided the previous evening to bring some since it was more practical than hand lotion and, ironically, made him feel less gay) and squirted some on his hand, warming it between his palms. Leaning in to kiss Patrick, Jon reached down between them and began to stroke Patrick hard and fast. Patrick hadn't been lying when he'd said that he didn't think he would last; could already feel his orgasm building. He broke the kiss, throwing his head back as he came, the rush of pleasure so intense that he almost blacked out.
When he opened his eyes, Jon was smiling softly at him. Patrick smiled back, and realized with a sudden flash of clarity that he'd fallen absolutely and helplessly in love.
Next part