Risky Business, part 4/6
Part III
It's over this more civilized coffee that Patrick broaches a subject he's been itching to ask about for hours.
"Can I ask you something about your brother?" Gerard lifts an eyebrow and hums an affirmative, breathing in the fragrant smell of the real coffee Pete stocks. "Did he and Pete have a...thing, once?"
Gerard chokes on the mouthful of coffee he'd just taken. He splutters for a minute or two, before getting himself under control. "Mikey and Pete? Why are you asking?"
Patrick shrugs, trying to look casual. "Pete said he's coming to L.A. for Ryan's bachelor party, and I just wanted to know the score so I don't make an idiot out of myself by saying the wrong thing when he gets here, that's all." Gerard looks at him with narrowed eyes, making Patrick feel like he's being weighed up.
"Yeah, they had a thing. It lasted for nearly two years, almost...must be at least five years ago, 'cause I was still in the basement."
"Was it serious?"
Gerard laces his fingers around his mug, contemplating the dark liquid. "For Pete, very much so. I've known him for a long time, before he even thought of this place." He waves the mug in the vague direction of the walls and sighs. "Pete falls in like very easily; it's part of his nature, and with very little prompting he can fall in lust as well."
"What about love?"
Gerard gives him a crooked smile. "Ah. Now, that doesn't happen as often, but when it does he falls hard, fast and doesn't want to let go. But Mikey? I don't want to speak badly of my brother, but he's not like that. He thinks about things; takes the route least likely to hurt him."
"He broke up with Pete?"
"Yeah. It'd take someone special to be able to keep Pete Wentz if he falls in love with them, and not get burned themselves. Mikey didn't think he could be that person."
Patrick absorbs this, thinking deeply and not noticing Gerard's considering look. The artist nods, makes a small joke and then moves the conversation away from Pete and Mikey. For this, Patrick is grateful, although he wonders if Gerard picked anything up in his questioning that might give him a clue as to Patrick's real reason behind asking.
It takes Gerard five studio sessions to get all the sketches he claims he needs to make a kick-ass album cover and assorted posters, and by this time the Prom Queens are no more. Instead, after a fight which left them all a little bruised and battered but finally on the same page, the girls decided on a name change.
Patrick has to admit, Pencey Prep sounds a lot better than Prom Queens.
It's a busy week, what with Pete flying around the studios whining about having to change the band's name on all their paperwork, Patrick finally managing to get them to record and promptly being buried under two dozen demos, all of which he thinks might be good enough for the album with some polish, and Ryan taking every opportunity to steal him away and talk 'wedding stuff' with him.
Oh, and then there's the morning Frankie storms out of the studio to the live room where Gerard is attempting to dictate where she should stand through the intercom, and kisses him hard.
"If you wanna tell me what to do, come into the fucking room and do it. Or take me back to your place." Gerard flails, staring at Frankie as she stands in front of him, hands planted firmly on her hips. Patrick rolls his eyes, checks that he's stopped the recorder and gives both of them a gentle shove.
"Get out of here, go on. We'll pick this up again tomorrow; you've got more important things to do."
Frankie's smile is pure mischief. "Yeah, like me. Come on, idiot." She drags an unresisting Gerard out of the room, leaving Patrick with the other girls looking amused and bemused respectively. He waves them out of the live room, shutting off the lights as they join him in the mixing room.
"We're done for the night, I think. I doubt those two'll resurface until tomorrow."
Alyssa snorts in derision. "Next week's more likely; she's been going on about him for ages." The other three nod their agreement, the smiles of relief on their faces making Patrick think she's done more than 'go on'.
Frankie can be very...graphic, when telling stories.
Patrick ushers them out of the door, turns to shut it and promptly gets jumped on. "Fuck fuck OW!" The person clinging to his back laughs in his ear then slips down, spins Patrick around by his shoulders and kisses him smack on the lips.
Somewhere between trying to stay upright and registering some guy's tongue in his mouth, Patrick realizes two things. One, the guy tastes familiar and two; he can just see Jon Walker shuffling his way towards Patrick and his attacker, one hand raised in a lazy wave.
Patrick waves back over Tom's shoulder. Suddenly things make sense. He should have guessed, really; this is practically Tom's standard way of greeting an old friend, especially one like Patrick. Jon finally reaches them, soft brown eyes lit up with amusement at Tom's over enthusiastic hello.
"Tom, hey, let the guy breathe. We came to help Spence celebrate getting married, not to comfort him at the funeral of a friend." He fists a hand in Tom's shirt and pulls, making the slightly taller guy break away from Patrick. He leans in and plants one last wet kiss on Patrick's cheek, then stands back and beams at him.
Patrick eyes him warily. Tom has the habit of attacking you again once you're off guard, and, past experience or not, Patrick is still vulnerable. "Hey, guys. Not to sound rude, but you're two days early." Jon grins, wide and sunny.
"You couldn't be rude to us, 'Trick, never."
Tom bounces on his toes, energy radiating from his body. "We wanted to surprise you, so we got an earlier flight down."
"How did you even get in here? Ryan's not supposed to let people in without a permit, friends or not."
Jon shrugs, looking laid back and unconcerned. Patrick envies him the ability to be unfazed pretty much constantly, sometimes. "There wasn't anyone at the reception desk, but we met this guy-"
"Fucking tall guy-"
"Yeah, who let us in after we told him we were here for Spencer's bachelor party."
"Tall and looks like a girl, or tall and sounds Latino-ish?"
Tom thought for a moment. "Second."
"That would've been Gabe." Jon raises his eyebrows a fraction.
"Gabe as in ‘asshole Gabe who you loathe and detest‘?"
Patrick sighs dramatically. "Well, yes, but I don't hate him now. It's a long story, and you should see Ryan first." He leads them back to the reception, where a slightly put-out Ryan tells them off for not waiting for him to come back to the desk, and then hugs them both tightly.
"You shouldn't tell the children off and then be nice to them in the same breath, Ryan," remarks Patrick dryly, "it sends the wrong message." He's being mercilessly tickled while Tom tries to steal his hat when Pete walks in, head bent over his sidekick and not paying attention.
It's pretty obvious when he does notice what's going on, though. He looks up from the tiny screen as Tom whoops in victory, Patrick's baseball cap clutched firmly in one hand. For a moment Pete's face flickers between confused, hurt and then angry, before he controls himself and smiles wide at the two visitors.
Pete hides what he's feeling quickly, too quickly for the distracted Patrick to see, but not for Ryan. He sees, and in that instant he understands things so much more clearly. He stands by quietly as Pete walks over, Patrick laughing his way through the introductions, and makes some swift plans in his head. It looks like his and Spencer's parties will be much more interesting than they'd originally thought.
--
Patrick knows Ryan and Spencer are up to something; he can tell. They stand slightly aside from everyone else as what seems like the entire staff of Decaydance, and then some, collects in the building's foyer, whispering together and making small, aborted movements he feels sure are meant to end with waves at himself, and at least Tom as well.
He puts it out of his head though. Whatever Ryan and Spencer are conspiring about is their business, not his. Well, for the moment at least. Ryan's penchant of doing some 'light' meddling may make him think otherwise soon, but for now Patrick focuses on ignoring Pete's just-barely false smile in his direction as they split into two groups, each dragging one half of the soon-to-be newlyweds out to waiting cars.
Two hours later and things are going if not well, then at least how they usually do when you get Spencer, Jon, Patrick and Tom in the same room. The rest of the party, various Decaydance employees and friends from Spencer's job as a clothing buyer for some expensive store Patrick always forgets the name of, listen in awe as Tom regales them with anecdotes and stories of Spencer's wild youth.
It wasn't actually that wild, but Tom's had a fair bit to drink by this time so he exaggerates without guilt. Patrick, not really a drinker, sits back and watches the hilarity begin as another of the party, a tech called Sisky, calls out for a round of truth or dare. No one expects Patrick to play; he prefers to watch games like this, and ever since an incident which left none of the Decaydance employees in any doubt as to how bad his temper really was, they tend to crack a joke and then leave him to observe.
Thing is, Spencer has a mission. After weeks of simply hearing about the 'spark' between Patrick and Pete, as Ryan had so girlishly termed it, he'd been curious to see if it was actually there, or if it was just Ryan being romantic. What Spencer had seen before they'd separated into groups was more than enough to convince him to follow Ryan's plan for the evening, so he feels no compunctions about setting Patrick up.
Well, Ryan had threatened no sex until marriage if he didn't help. Spencer had carefully weighed up his options. No sex for five months, or a possibly very angry Patrick?
Considering he only sees Patrick occasionally and he lives with Ryan, it isn't that hard a decision.
This is why he dragged Jon and Tom aside while the rest of his friends were occupied with watching the Butcher try to perform some feat of balance involving two chairs and a glass to explain what he - and Ryan - wanted them to do. They agreed so fast Spencer was a little surprised they didn't put it into action right there and then, but still. They'd agreed, that was the main thing.
So half an hour later, after numerous other dares, Spencer leans forward, slightly flushed from his mandatory glass or three of champagne- Pete, or rather the label, was paying, so he'd seen no reason not to have that at least - and fixes his gaze on Jon. "Jon Walker, truth or dare?"
Jon's picked truth almost every time, seemingly having no shame and leaving the dares to Tom. But now..."I think it's time for a dare." His mischievous smile holds an ulterior meaning for Spencer, and it's very nearly too much for him to look thoughtful and stick to Ryan's orders.
"Hmmm, you don't sound too enthusiastic."
Of all people, Spencer does not expect Patrick to speak just then. And never in a million years did he expect the producer to actually help them, even without knowing. "Maybe he and Tom can do a dare together, so he's got someone to hold his hand?"
Jon mock glares. "For that, give us something Patrick-related, Spencer."
"Seconded! You shouldn't be allowed to sit out a game of truth or dare at a man's bachelor party." Tom's grinning bright and wide, and to anyone not in on the game, he just looks like he's had a bit to drink. Spencer has a sudden flush of inane happiness that he's marrying a man so devilishly talented at plotting. Or meddling; whatever you call it, it's still fun.
He pretends to think. "Okay, well...how about...oh, I know." Patrick shoots him a worried look. "You two" he beckons to Jon and Tom, "have to see how far you can get with our dear Patrick without getting punched, OR without him dying of embarrassment."
It's worth setting the dare just to see their faces, even though they already knew what the dare was. Twin smiles (that make even the slightly evil-on-the-inside Spencer feel like a rabbit in the headlights) spread across their faces as they stand up, and as they negotiate their way through the haphazard mess of chairs to where Patrick is sitting ensconced in a booth, Spencer has the momentary wish that Ryan could be here to see this.
He's pretty sure the club where they'd booked a private suite has never had a show quite like the one he's witnessing now. Jon and Tom work like a professional tag-team, sliding into the booth until they're settled comfortably each side of a wary-looking Patrick. Jon leans in until they're almost-but-not-quite touching before dropping his head to mouth gently at Patrick's shoulder through his shirt, their audience collectively holding a metaphorical breath when Patrick doesn't immediately pull away.
Tom mirrors Jon, except he softly runs one hand underneath Patrick's jaw and tilts his head, letting his fingers continue their path to twist gently in soft strands of red-gold hair. Everyone, and Spencer realizes it really is everyone when he glances round, makes a variation on a gasp as Tom kisses Patrick, kisses him thoroughly as Jon's hand curls over his boyfriend's neck and nips lightly at Patrick's ear.
Spencer has to give himself a serious mental shake to make him remember Ryan's next instructions. He swiftly take a few shots of them with his camera and then dashes off a text to Ryan, before clearing his throat. "Guys?"
Tom pulls back and turns to look at Spencer, who takes a sharp breath at the sight of Patrick next to him. He knows, objectively, that Patrick is cute. He can appreciate the paleness of his skin, can understand the attraction someone not already in love with another might have for his changeable eyes and silky-looking hair, and Spencer can most certainly see why people might like his mouth. But until the moment he sees Patrick between Jon and Tom, completely at ease, he's never really seen those things properly.
Fuck, does he see it now.
Jon looks round as well, smirking a little when he catches sight of Spencer's expression. "I think Spencer's trying to tell us that we've done the dare."
They vacate their places on either side of a ruffled-looking Patrick and return to their original seats, looking very pleased with themselves. Spencer fears the worst, having heard all about Patrick's temper. He's ready for the anger, prepared to defend himself with words from Ryan, but what Patrick actually says is not what they had anticipated.
"God, I'd forgotten what that was like."
That little comment is going to make Ryan extremely happy, Spencer thinks vaguely, as Jon calls back something about their door always being open and Tom saying Patrick should visit more often. Beyond Patrick's shrugs and simple comment that they're 'old friends', none of them can get anything more out of him, Tom or Jon for the rest of the evening.
It's only the next morning that he elaborates to Ryan, both of them hangover-free, if a little lacking in sleep. The receptionist corners Patrick as soon as he walks through the doors, wasting little time in pleasantries and questions about how his fiancé's party went.
"So, I hear you got up to something...interesting with those two Chicago friends of yours last night." Patrick smiles at the memory, eyes focused at a point over Ryan's shoulder.
"Oh, yeah. Just, you know, Spencer dared them."
"And you didn't exactly say no, apparently." Patrick ducks his head, looking down. "What's going on, Patrick? All the time I've known you, you've never gone in for PDA's, and then you let two guys hit on you in a bar, in public?"
"Not just 'two guys', Ryan. Jon and Tom." Seeing Ryan's blank stare, he sighs. "Fine, okay. We've had threesomes in the past, okay?"
"Three- no way! You're kidding me?"
Patrick arches an eyebrow. "Could you sound any more gay right now?"
"I'm marrying a guy, how much more gay do you want me to be?" Ryan doesn't let up until Patrick tells him, seriously and with a remarkable lack of blushing, just how good 'friends' he and his fellow Chicagoans were. He finally lets Patrick go into the studios when the phone rings, forcing him to drop the topic and become a professional once more.
Patrick escapes with some relief, and tries to focus on the day ahead.
--
Stepping into one of the studios and seeing Frankie against the wall with her legs around Gerard's waist should be a clue that his day isn't going to be as simple as he'd expected, but in between stammering an apology, snatching up his notes from a previous session and making a hasty retreat, this little lesson escapes Patrick. He shuts himself in one of the unoccupied rooms, tries to calm the blush on his cheeks and then gets on with fixing some stuff for Pencey Prep.
He might work less peacefully if he knew just what Ryan was planning, but ignorance can be bliss, especially when it comes to meddling friends currently overdosing on romance and wedding plans. The receptionist waits impatiently for Pete to arrive at the building, one eye on his computer screen as he deals with phone calls, and the other on the doors.
When Pete finally does arrive, clutching a large cup of steaming coffee, Ryan has what he wants to say exactly planned out. It involves dropping some subtle hints and letting Pete know what had gone on the night before, along with the off-hand showing of one of the pictures Spencer had sent him. That's pretty much it. It's not fancy, but with Pete's crush on Patrick the way it is, Ryan has the gleeful suspicion that it'll be more than successful.
Although, just because he's doing Pete a huge favor ('Shut up, Spence, it's totally a favor, they'd never get anywhere without us', 'Sure, Ryan, just don't blame me if you get fired'), that doesn't mean he can't mess with him just a little first. He greets Pete with a bright and cheery smile, making his voice a little louder than normal.
"Morning, Pete!"
"Fuck, Ryan, we aren't all as disgustingly happy as you are in the mornings."
Ryan smiles, not unkindly. "Maybe if certain people didn't insist on staying up so late then they wouldn't feel so bad in the mornings, huh?"
"Hey, it's not my fault that Mikeyway and Darren wanted to go on to that other club. And the thing with the jello afterwards was all their idea, I swear."
Ryan isn't going to ask. Really, he isn't. He made the mistake of asking Pete about something that sounded a little odd, and regretted it. He'll never look at a rabbit the same way again. "Uh huh."
"It was a fun night though, yeah? I mean, you had fun, right?"
"Yes, Pete, I did have fun. Even with all the" he gestures vaguely, "stuff, and that girl." Pete shudders. She'd been very persistent, even after being told that Pete was: a) mostly gay and b) not actually the one getting married. That Ryan was marrying a guy hadn't seemed to deter her either, once she did get the message.
It was a very big reminder of why he likes guys. Or, rather, what he likes their lack of.
"Let's never mention it again, okay. The way bachelor parties are supposed to be, forgotten." Pete takes a huge gulp of coffee, shivering as it flows down his throat and wakes him up a bit more. Ryan frowns.
"Black coffee, Pete? Seriously?" To Ryan, black coffee is positively barbaric. "I've told you about that before."
Pete attempts a leer, but half asleep as he is it comes out even more pathetic than usual. "Come be my assistant, then you can tell me off about my coffee, Ryan."
"Pete, no. And stop looking at me like that, it's making me want to quit." Pete's pout is slightly more successful, although that might have been because his lips are more suited to pouting than leering. "Fine. How was Spencer's party, by the way?"
Ryan tries to look casual as his mind giggles with mischief. "Oh, pretty much the same as mine. Drinking, stupid party games no one over the age of ten should play..." (Pete's face at being told there was no way in hell any of them would play Seven Minutes in Heaven would be a treasured memory of everyone for years to come.)"...karaoke, that kind of stuff. Although I think they did better in terms of make-outs."
Pete's eyes light up so fast Ryan nearly giggles out loud, not just mentally. Laughed, he means laughed. "There was making out? Who?"
"Jon, Tom," Pete stops his slight bounce. For some reason he's taken against the two Chicago natives. "and Patrick." Ryan winces. "Pete, you are lucky that I like you and you're my boss, because if I can't get the coffee you just spat at me off my vest I will be extremely mad. It took me ages to sew the roses on just right."
Pete doesn't seem to hear him. "Jon, Tom and Patrick? All three of them...together?"
"Yeah. Here, Spencer took pictures." Ryan, like Spencer, had looked at the admittedly shitty quality pictures on Spencer's cell and understood immediately why Tom and Jon had been more than happy to recreate past events, albeit to a much smaller scale. It just hadn't been that sort of club, sadly. As Ryan watches Pete stare at the image of a fucking wrecked Patrick, sitting between his two very self-satisfied friends with tousled hair and bruised lips, he wonders exactly what Pete is feeling.
Pete's whispered "Fuck, no way in hell," gives him some insight, as does the speed at which Pete moves towards the doors that lead to the studios. Ryan smiles serenely as he sits at his desk, tapping out a text to Spencer to let him know that all was going as planned.
That had been almost too easy, but still satisfying.
Part V
It's over this more civilized coffee that Patrick broaches a subject he's been itching to ask about for hours.
"Can I ask you something about your brother?" Gerard lifts an eyebrow and hums an affirmative, breathing in the fragrant smell of the real coffee Pete stocks. "Did he and Pete have a...thing, once?"
Gerard chokes on the mouthful of coffee he'd just taken. He splutters for a minute or two, before getting himself under control. "Mikey and Pete? Why are you asking?"
Patrick shrugs, trying to look casual. "Pete said he's coming to L.A. for Ryan's bachelor party, and I just wanted to know the score so I don't make an idiot out of myself by saying the wrong thing when he gets here, that's all." Gerard looks at him with narrowed eyes, making Patrick feel like he's being weighed up.
"Yeah, they had a thing. It lasted for nearly two years, almost...must be at least five years ago, 'cause I was still in the basement."
"Was it serious?"
Gerard laces his fingers around his mug, contemplating the dark liquid. "For Pete, very much so. I've known him for a long time, before he even thought of this place." He waves the mug in the vague direction of the walls and sighs. "Pete falls in like very easily; it's part of his nature, and with very little prompting he can fall in lust as well."
"What about love?"
Gerard gives him a crooked smile. "Ah. Now, that doesn't happen as often, but when it does he falls hard, fast and doesn't want to let go. But Mikey? I don't want to speak badly of my brother, but he's not like that. He thinks about things; takes the route least likely to hurt him."
"He broke up with Pete?"
"Yeah. It'd take someone special to be able to keep Pete Wentz if he falls in love with them, and not get burned themselves. Mikey didn't think he could be that person."
Patrick absorbs this, thinking deeply and not noticing Gerard's considering look. The artist nods, makes a small joke and then moves the conversation away from Pete and Mikey. For this, Patrick is grateful, although he wonders if Gerard picked anything up in his questioning that might give him a clue as to Patrick's real reason behind asking.
It takes Gerard five studio sessions to get all the sketches he claims he needs to make a kick-ass album cover and assorted posters, and by this time the Prom Queens are no more. Instead, after a fight which left them all a little bruised and battered but finally on the same page, the girls decided on a name change.
Patrick has to admit, Pencey Prep sounds a lot better than Prom Queens.
It's a busy week, what with Pete flying around the studios whining about having to change the band's name on all their paperwork, Patrick finally managing to get them to record and promptly being buried under two dozen demos, all of which he thinks might be good enough for the album with some polish, and Ryan taking every opportunity to steal him away and talk 'wedding stuff' with him.
Oh, and then there's the morning Frankie storms out of the studio to the live room where Gerard is attempting to dictate where she should stand through the intercom, and kisses him hard.
"If you wanna tell me what to do, come into the fucking room and do it. Or take me back to your place." Gerard flails, staring at Frankie as she stands in front of him, hands planted firmly on her hips. Patrick rolls his eyes, checks that he's stopped the recorder and gives both of them a gentle shove.
"Get out of here, go on. We'll pick this up again tomorrow; you've got more important things to do."
Frankie's smile is pure mischief. "Yeah, like me. Come on, idiot." She drags an unresisting Gerard out of the room, leaving Patrick with the other girls looking amused and bemused respectively. He waves them out of the live room, shutting off the lights as they join him in the mixing room.
"We're done for the night, I think. I doubt those two'll resurface until tomorrow."
Alyssa snorts in derision. "Next week's more likely; she's been going on about him for ages." The other three nod their agreement, the smiles of relief on their faces making Patrick think she's done more than 'go on'.
Frankie can be very...graphic, when telling stories.
Patrick ushers them out of the door, turns to shut it and promptly gets jumped on. "Fuck fuck OW!" The person clinging to his back laughs in his ear then slips down, spins Patrick around by his shoulders and kisses him smack on the lips.
Somewhere between trying to stay upright and registering some guy's tongue in his mouth, Patrick realizes two things. One, the guy tastes familiar and two; he can just see Jon Walker shuffling his way towards Patrick and his attacker, one hand raised in a lazy wave.
Patrick waves back over Tom's shoulder. Suddenly things make sense. He should have guessed, really; this is practically Tom's standard way of greeting an old friend, especially one like Patrick. Jon finally reaches them, soft brown eyes lit up with amusement at Tom's over enthusiastic hello.
"Tom, hey, let the guy breathe. We came to help Spence celebrate getting married, not to comfort him at the funeral of a friend." He fists a hand in Tom's shirt and pulls, making the slightly taller guy break away from Patrick. He leans in and plants one last wet kiss on Patrick's cheek, then stands back and beams at him.
Patrick eyes him warily. Tom has the habit of attacking you again once you're off guard, and, past experience or not, Patrick is still vulnerable. "Hey, guys. Not to sound rude, but you're two days early." Jon grins, wide and sunny.
"You couldn't be rude to us, 'Trick, never."
Tom bounces on his toes, energy radiating from his body. "We wanted to surprise you, so we got an earlier flight down."
"How did you even get in here? Ryan's not supposed to let people in without a permit, friends or not."
Jon shrugs, looking laid back and unconcerned. Patrick envies him the ability to be unfazed pretty much constantly, sometimes. "There wasn't anyone at the reception desk, but we met this guy-"
"Fucking tall guy-"
"Yeah, who let us in after we told him we were here for Spencer's bachelor party."
"Tall and looks like a girl, or tall and sounds Latino-ish?"
Tom thought for a moment. "Second."
"That would've been Gabe." Jon raises his eyebrows a fraction.
"Gabe as in ‘asshole Gabe who you loathe and detest‘?"
Patrick sighs dramatically. "Well, yes, but I don't hate him now. It's a long story, and you should see Ryan first." He leads them back to the reception, where a slightly put-out Ryan tells them off for not waiting for him to come back to the desk, and then hugs them both tightly.
"You shouldn't tell the children off and then be nice to them in the same breath, Ryan," remarks Patrick dryly, "it sends the wrong message." He's being mercilessly tickled while Tom tries to steal his hat when Pete walks in, head bent over his sidekick and not paying attention.
It's pretty obvious when he does notice what's going on, though. He looks up from the tiny screen as Tom whoops in victory, Patrick's baseball cap clutched firmly in one hand. For a moment Pete's face flickers between confused, hurt and then angry, before he controls himself and smiles wide at the two visitors.
Pete hides what he's feeling quickly, too quickly for the distracted Patrick to see, but not for Ryan. He sees, and in that instant he understands things so much more clearly. He stands by quietly as Pete walks over, Patrick laughing his way through the introductions, and makes some swift plans in his head. It looks like his and Spencer's parties will be much more interesting than they'd originally thought.
--
Patrick knows Ryan and Spencer are up to something; he can tell. They stand slightly aside from everyone else as what seems like the entire staff of Decaydance, and then some, collects in the building's foyer, whispering together and making small, aborted movements he feels sure are meant to end with waves at himself, and at least Tom as well.
He puts it out of his head though. Whatever Ryan and Spencer are conspiring about is their business, not his. Well, for the moment at least. Ryan's penchant of doing some 'light' meddling may make him think otherwise soon, but for now Patrick focuses on ignoring Pete's just-barely false smile in his direction as they split into two groups, each dragging one half of the soon-to-be newlyweds out to waiting cars.
Two hours later and things are going if not well, then at least how they usually do when you get Spencer, Jon, Patrick and Tom in the same room. The rest of the party, various Decaydance employees and friends from Spencer's job as a clothing buyer for some expensive store Patrick always forgets the name of, listen in awe as Tom regales them with anecdotes and stories of Spencer's wild youth.
It wasn't actually that wild, but Tom's had a fair bit to drink by this time so he exaggerates without guilt. Patrick, not really a drinker, sits back and watches the hilarity begin as another of the party, a tech called Sisky, calls out for a round of truth or dare. No one expects Patrick to play; he prefers to watch games like this, and ever since an incident which left none of the Decaydance employees in any doubt as to how bad his temper really was, they tend to crack a joke and then leave him to observe.
Thing is, Spencer has a mission. After weeks of simply hearing about the 'spark' between Patrick and Pete, as Ryan had so girlishly termed it, he'd been curious to see if it was actually there, or if it was just Ryan being romantic. What Spencer had seen before they'd separated into groups was more than enough to convince him to follow Ryan's plan for the evening, so he feels no compunctions about setting Patrick up.
Well, Ryan had threatened no sex until marriage if he didn't help. Spencer had carefully weighed up his options. No sex for five months, or a possibly very angry Patrick?
Considering he only sees Patrick occasionally and he lives with Ryan, it isn't that hard a decision.
This is why he dragged Jon and Tom aside while the rest of his friends were occupied with watching the Butcher try to perform some feat of balance involving two chairs and a glass to explain what he - and Ryan - wanted them to do. They agreed so fast Spencer was a little surprised they didn't put it into action right there and then, but still. They'd agreed, that was the main thing.
So half an hour later, after numerous other dares, Spencer leans forward, slightly flushed from his mandatory glass or three of champagne- Pete, or rather the label, was paying, so he'd seen no reason not to have that at least - and fixes his gaze on Jon. "Jon Walker, truth or dare?"
Jon's picked truth almost every time, seemingly having no shame and leaving the dares to Tom. But now..."I think it's time for a dare." His mischievous smile holds an ulterior meaning for Spencer, and it's very nearly too much for him to look thoughtful and stick to Ryan's orders.
"Hmmm, you don't sound too enthusiastic."
Of all people, Spencer does not expect Patrick to speak just then. And never in a million years did he expect the producer to actually help them, even without knowing. "Maybe he and Tom can do a dare together, so he's got someone to hold his hand?"
Jon mock glares. "For that, give us something Patrick-related, Spencer."
"Seconded! You shouldn't be allowed to sit out a game of truth or dare at a man's bachelor party." Tom's grinning bright and wide, and to anyone not in on the game, he just looks like he's had a bit to drink. Spencer has a sudden flush of inane happiness that he's marrying a man so devilishly talented at plotting. Or meddling; whatever you call it, it's still fun.
He pretends to think. "Okay, well...how about...oh, I know." Patrick shoots him a worried look. "You two" he beckons to Jon and Tom, "have to see how far you can get with our dear Patrick without getting punched, OR without him dying of embarrassment."
It's worth setting the dare just to see their faces, even though they already knew what the dare was. Twin smiles (that make even the slightly evil-on-the-inside Spencer feel like a rabbit in the headlights) spread across their faces as they stand up, and as they negotiate their way through the haphazard mess of chairs to where Patrick is sitting ensconced in a booth, Spencer has the momentary wish that Ryan could be here to see this.
He's pretty sure the club where they'd booked a private suite has never had a show quite like the one he's witnessing now. Jon and Tom work like a professional tag-team, sliding into the booth until they're settled comfortably each side of a wary-looking Patrick. Jon leans in until they're almost-but-not-quite touching before dropping his head to mouth gently at Patrick's shoulder through his shirt, their audience collectively holding a metaphorical breath when Patrick doesn't immediately pull away.
Tom mirrors Jon, except he softly runs one hand underneath Patrick's jaw and tilts his head, letting his fingers continue their path to twist gently in soft strands of red-gold hair. Everyone, and Spencer realizes it really is everyone when he glances round, makes a variation on a gasp as Tom kisses Patrick, kisses him thoroughly as Jon's hand curls over his boyfriend's neck and nips lightly at Patrick's ear.
Spencer has to give himself a serious mental shake to make him remember Ryan's next instructions. He swiftly take a few shots of them with his camera and then dashes off a text to Ryan, before clearing his throat. "Guys?"
Tom pulls back and turns to look at Spencer, who takes a sharp breath at the sight of Patrick next to him. He knows, objectively, that Patrick is cute. He can appreciate the paleness of his skin, can understand the attraction someone not already in love with another might have for his changeable eyes and silky-looking hair, and Spencer can most certainly see why people might like his mouth. But until the moment he sees Patrick between Jon and Tom, completely at ease, he's never really seen those things properly.
Fuck, does he see it now.
Jon looks round as well, smirking a little when he catches sight of Spencer's expression. "I think Spencer's trying to tell us that we've done the dare."
They vacate their places on either side of a ruffled-looking Patrick and return to their original seats, looking very pleased with themselves. Spencer fears the worst, having heard all about Patrick's temper. He's ready for the anger, prepared to defend himself with words from Ryan, but what Patrick actually says is not what they had anticipated.
"God, I'd forgotten what that was like."
That little comment is going to make Ryan extremely happy, Spencer thinks vaguely, as Jon calls back something about their door always being open and Tom saying Patrick should visit more often. Beyond Patrick's shrugs and simple comment that they're 'old friends', none of them can get anything more out of him, Tom or Jon for the rest of the evening.
It's only the next morning that he elaborates to Ryan, both of them hangover-free, if a little lacking in sleep. The receptionist corners Patrick as soon as he walks through the doors, wasting little time in pleasantries and questions about how his fiancé's party went.
"So, I hear you got up to something...interesting with those two Chicago friends of yours last night." Patrick smiles at the memory, eyes focused at a point over Ryan's shoulder.
"Oh, yeah. Just, you know, Spencer dared them."
"And you didn't exactly say no, apparently." Patrick ducks his head, looking down. "What's going on, Patrick? All the time I've known you, you've never gone in for PDA's, and then you let two guys hit on you in a bar, in public?"
"Not just 'two guys', Ryan. Jon and Tom." Seeing Ryan's blank stare, he sighs. "Fine, okay. We've had threesomes in the past, okay?"
"Three- no way! You're kidding me?"
Patrick arches an eyebrow. "Could you sound any more gay right now?"
"I'm marrying a guy, how much more gay do you want me to be?" Ryan doesn't let up until Patrick tells him, seriously and with a remarkable lack of blushing, just how good 'friends' he and his fellow Chicagoans were. He finally lets Patrick go into the studios when the phone rings, forcing him to drop the topic and become a professional once more.
Patrick escapes with some relief, and tries to focus on the day ahead.
--
Stepping into one of the studios and seeing Frankie against the wall with her legs around Gerard's waist should be a clue that his day isn't going to be as simple as he'd expected, but in between stammering an apology, snatching up his notes from a previous session and making a hasty retreat, this little lesson escapes Patrick. He shuts himself in one of the unoccupied rooms, tries to calm the blush on his cheeks and then gets on with fixing some stuff for Pencey Prep.
He might work less peacefully if he knew just what Ryan was planning, but ignorance can be bliss, especially when it comes to meddling friends currently overdosing on romance and wedding plans. The receptionist waits impatiently for Pete to arrive at the building, one eye on his computer screen as he deals with phone calls, and the other on the doors.
When Pete finally does arrive, clutching a large cup of steaming coffee, Ryan has what he wants to say exactly planned out. It involves dropping some subtle hints and letting Pete know what had gone on the night before, along with the off-hand showing of one of the pictures Spencer had sent him. That's pretty much it. It's not fancy, but with Pete's crush on Patrick the way it is, Ryan has the gleeful suspicion that it'll be more than successful.
Although, just because he's doing Pete a huge favor ('Shut up, Spence, it's totally a favor, they'd never get anywhere without us', 'Sure, Ryan, just don't blame me if you get fired'), that doesn't mean he can't mess with him just a little first. He greets Pete with a bright and cheery smile, making his voice a little louder than normal.
"Morning, Pete!"
"Fuck, Ryan, we aren't all as disgustingly happy as you are in the mornings."
Ryan smiles, not unkindly. "Maybe if certain people didn't insist on staying up so late then they wouldn't feel so bad in the mornings, huh?"
"Hey, it's not my fault that Mikeyway and Darren wanted to go on to that other club. And the thing with the jello afterwards was all their idea, I swear."
Ryan isn't going to ask. Really, he isn't. He made the mistake of asking Pete about something that sounded a little odd, and regretted it. He'll never look at a rabbit the same way again. "Uh huh."
"It was a fun night though, yeah? I mean, you had fun, right?"
"Yes, Pete, I did have fun. Even with all the" he gestures vaguely, "stuff, and that girl." Pete shudders. She'd been very persistent, even after being told that Pete was: a) mostly gay and b) not actually the one getting married. That Ryan was marrying a guy hadn't seemed to deter her either, once she did get the message.
It was a very big reminder of why he likes guys. Or, rather, what he likes their lack of.
"Let's never mention it again, okay. The way bachelor parties are supposed to be, forgotten." Pete takes a huge gulp of coffee, shivering as it flows down his throat and wakes him up a bit more. Ryan frowns.
"Black coffee, Pete? Seriously?" To Ryan, black coffee is positively barbaric. "I've told you about that before."
Pete attempts a leer, but half asleep as he is it comes out even more pathetic than usual. "Come be my assistant, then you can tell me off about my coffee, Ryan."
"Pete, no. And stop looking at me like that, it's making me want to quit." Pete's pout is slightly more successful, although that might have been because his lips are more suited to pouting than leering. "Fine. How was Spencer's party, by the way?"
Ryan tries to look casual as his mind giggles with mischief. "Oh, pretty much the same as mine. Drinking, stupid party games no one over the age of ten should play..." (Pete's face at being told there was no way in hell any of them would play Seven Minutes in Heaven would be a treasured memory of everyone for years to come.)"...karaoke, that kind of stuff. Although I think they did better in terms of make-outs."
Pete's eyes light up so fast Ryan nearly giggles out loud, not just mentally. Laughed, he means laughed. "There was making out? Who?"
"Jon, Tom," Pete stops his slight bounce. For some reason he's taken against the two Chicago natives. "and Patrick." Ryan winces. "Pete, you are lucky that I like you and you're my boss, because if I can't get the coffee you just spat at me off my vest I will be extremely mad. It took me ages to sew the roses on just right."
Pete doesn't seem to hear him. "Jon, Tom and Patrick? All three of them...together?"
"Yeah. Here, Spencer took pictures." Ryan, like Spencer, had looked at the admittedly shitty quality pictures on Spencer's cell and understood immediately why Tom and Jon had been more than happy to recreate past events, albeit to a much smaller scale. It just hadn't been that sort of club, sadly. As Ryan watches Pete stare at the image of a fucking wrecked Patrick, sitting between his two very self-satisfied friends with tousled hair and bruised lips, he wonders exactly what Pete is feeling.
Pete's whispered "Fuck, no way in hell," gives him some insight, as does the speed at which Pete moves towards the doors that lead to the studios. Ryan smiles serenely as he sits at his desk, tapping out a text to Spencer to let him know that all was going as planned.
That had been almost too easy, but still satisfying.
Part V