Tonight you’ll fall in love
Title: Tonight you’ll fall in love
Author:
alles_luege
Pairing: Patrick/Trace/Pete
Rating: PG-13
Summary: This is a story about how Patrick fell in love with Pete and never fell out again, about how Trace doesn’t really see it coming that he is falling in love with Patrick, and about how Pete is sure that there is nothing wrong with love at all. (Also, about how FBR is a cuddly bunch.)
Warning(s): boys kissing, angst and silliness.
Author’s Notes: So, because no one seems to want to write it (awesome people who I got sneak previews from are totally excluded here) I wrote it myself.
For nilyveth because she said: “Whatever, I take everything as longs as there is Pete/Patrick.” when I wanted to know her opinion on a MS/FOB fic.
(Send me more drunken text messages I’m not allowed to talk about the day after!)
Word Count: 5.164
Beta: tygermine
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, not real.
“Patrick!“
Patrick doesn’t even look up from his laptop as Pete flops down next to him on the couch.
“That’s my name…”
“Look!” Pete says shoving Patrick’s laptop away and placing his in Patrick’s lap instead.
“What the hell Pete!? I’m trying to work here.”
“This is more important than your next master piece for a band that isn’t even ours,” he answers. Patrick can hear the annoyance in his voice. He sighs. He knows he will not get anything done until he gives in. So he does, pretends to at least, because you can’t give in, never.
“So, what is it now?” he asks a bit irritated.
“I said, look,” Pete answers and Patrick does. Pete’s laptop shows him a youtube clip of some band or another, something looks kinda familiar about those kids. He’s sure he’s seen them before.
“Hmmm?”
“Honestly, they’re us but younger. Fall Out Boy version 2.0.”
“What?”
“Look, see that kid with the tattoos? That’s me and the other one that’s you - you look far better in tight pants, but that’s not the point. They’re us, but younger and they will steal all our fans. We will be the wife…and they’ll be like the hot and sexy secretary,” Pete finishes.
“What?” Because, honestly WHAT?
“What’s wrong with you?” Patrick asks, even if he knows what is wrong with Pete, hell the whole world knows what’s wrong with Pete.
“Patrick…”
“Bedsides,” Patrick interrupts him, waving his hand irritated, “besides, they sure as hell won’t steal my fans, because my fans are loyal.” And sane, he thinks. Hopes, really.
“What?”
“The fans you tell me all about? The ones that love my voice and my lips and masturbate to me singing from their bedroom speakers? They will not cheat on me for that kid,” Patrick finishes pointing at the screen. He says it all with a straight face. Pete just looks at him for a moment in utter disbelief.
“Patrick!”
“And now I need to work,” Patrick answers.
“But….you don’t take this seriously enough,” Pete whines.
“Because it isn’t,” Patrick says firmly, shoving Pete’s laptop back at Pete and putting his own on his lap again.
“It is,” Pete insists.
“We’ll see,” Patrick answers, putting his headphones into his ears. Pete keeps sitting on the couch invading his space for a few minutes longer before he sighs and gets up.
~+~
The truth is, Patrick thinks later when he’s staring at his screen watching that video again, the truth is Pete is kinda right about this. (Pete is often right about stuff, but he also is overdramatic…) This kid somehow looks like Pete, prettier though - not that Pete isn’t attractive, but he isn’t pretty - and maybe not that messed up, also a lot younger. Patrick isn’t entirely sure why he can’t look away.
He isn’t sure he wants to find out either. It could lead to all the things he isn’t thinking about, like the first day he met Pete and kinda fell in love and just didn’t fall out again. Even after all these years, songs, records, music videos, crises and girlfriends.
~+~
“Aha!” Pete sounds triumphant and Patrick nearly has a heart attack.
“Fuck you!” He answers closing his laptop. He hates it when Pete sneaks up on him like that.
“Patrick,” Pete says: his voice soft and that’s why Patrick knows something is coming. “Patrick, I knew you would see my point sooner or later. We have to do something.”
“What?” It’s not Patrick’s fault he is sane. He was born like that and no amount of time spent with Pete will change it.
“About those kids. We need to make them our….”
“Our what?”
“Our whatever. We need to assimilate them?”
“Like the ‘borg?” Patrick asks, but he knows the answer to that.
“Yes! Exactly! Like the ‘borg!” Pete smacks a kiss on Patrick’s cheek and gets comfortable in Patrick’s lap. Patrick strokes his hair absentminded.
“We are not the ‘borg,” Patrick says after a while. Pete is thinking that’s why he doesn’t response right away.
“We are FBR. We’re like the ‘borg. I mean, we’re more like a cult, right?” Pete says looking up at Patrick. Patrick pretends to think about it. Pete nudges his belly.
“You’re really soft…” he whispers, closing his eyes and burrowing his nose into Patrick’s stomach. It tickles.
“I hate when you do that,” Patrick says, he sounds annoyed, but he really isn’t.
“Hmm…” Patrick feels Pete’s grin against his stomach.
“I really do. And yeah, I guess it could seem like a cult…from the outside,” Patrick admits.
“See, we’re totally the ‘borg,” Pete says satisfied.
“So, you want to lure them away from their label?”
“Would I do that?”
Patrick doesn’t even dignify that with an answer, just raises his eyebrows.
“I totally would, wouldn’t I?” Pete says laughing. Patrick can feel Pete’s lips against his skin through the thin layer of fabric. It’s irritating. Patrick grips Pete’s hair to tight. Pete winces and Patrick lets go.
“Sorry. You know I hate it when you’re doing that.”
“Yeah…”
“So you will not lure them away like a siren (greek mythology calls them sirens that lured sailors to their doom) from their safe harbour?” Patrick asks, he needs to know what he has to deal with in the near future. Because Pete seems pretty set on this Metro Station thing.
“No, I couldn’t lure them away. You could. You are my siren.”
“But I won’t.”
Pete sighs before lighting up with an idea. Patrick could almost see the light bulb go on above his head. “I know. I will make them support Panic and maybe the Academy and then us.” Pete says.
“Right,” Patrick humours Pete’s insanity. It’s a bad habit that he can’t break.
“It’s a great idea. So they can see how it is. I mean how we are and that they shouldn’t even think of stealing our husband,” Pete says.
“You’re still on that secretary idea, aren’t you?”
Pete laughs and Patrick smacks him lightly over the back of the head.
~+~
Pete sets them up with Panic and Cobra. Patrick has no idea what Pete was thinking by setting them up with Gabe and his band, because honestly, Gabe will eat them alive. Or make them drink too much and smoke pot and maybe there will be some naked dancing involved. (Patrick doesn’t even want to think about it.) Like the Academy did with Brendon, not that Patrick is blaming Bill or his band for that particular Brendon problem. It was Brendon’s decision at that time. The Academy just had the alcohol, he drank it himself after all.
So, maybe Pete just wants to test them. Or whatever. If they’re worth it. If you’re able to survive Gabe you’re able to survive anything. It’s something like a rule in Pete’s brain.
~+~
The first time Patrick actually meets them is a few days into the Cobra tour. They’re playing Chicago and how could Patrick not come and see them? Besides Gabe called and asked if they could crash at his place - never mind they can afford hotel rooms now. Patrick said yes, of course.
And that’s why he is sitting on his couch now, talking to Vicky and trying to ignore the starry eyed worshipping gazes that those little boys send in his direction. Vicky snickers, pointedly not looking at Trace and Mason. Patrick rolls his eyes at her and them. (He’s glad that Pete isn’t here to tease him about this shit.) Gabe laughs out loud.
“You can talk to him,” He says, Mason goes kinda red in the face. “He’s not a god.”
“I don’t know, Gabe. According to the internet…” Vicky drifts off. Cash laughs.
“He totally was like that too”, Gabe clarifies, pointing in Cash’s direction. “Couldn’t say a single word for hours after he said ‘hi’ to Patrick the first time. In a girlie kind of voice.”
“It’s because he had a crush on Patrick”, Alex says.
“Fuck you!” Cash bites out, but he is laughing.
“It’s the lips and that voice and that softness, makes your brain go mushy.” Gabe throws in. He sounds like Pete when he does that. Patrick is sure it’s on purpose.
“I hate you all,” Cash says. Patrick rolls his eyes. Trace laughs a bit nervously.
“Don’t listen to those madmen.” Vicky says, grapping Mason’s chin between her long manicured fingers to make him look at her. “Most of the time they’re drunk and mad like rabbits and just like to fuck with people’s heads…”
“Not just their heads,” Gabe leers.
Mason blushes two shades darker. Patrick has a flashback to his own teenage days when he was terrified of everything and the only thing that made him do anything was Pete and his madness and his sheer faith in Patrick and the band.
“Stop messing with the kids. They need to go to bed anyway.” Patrick says, slapping Vicky’s hand lightly. His own brushes Mason’s cheek in the process. Patrick isn’t sure if Mason goes even redder, because honestly it’s hard to tell by this point.
“I’ll share the guest room with them!” she says. Patrick shakes his head.
“No, you will take the small guest room alone, because you are a girl and we don’t want them molested,” She laughs, hugging him tight.
“Patrick Stump I love you, you are my knight in shining amour.”
“Sure as hell I am.” He answers, kissing her cheek. “And you two, are so going to bed right now,” He says to Mason and Trace. Patrick is in full daddy mode now.
“But what is with the rest of our band?” Trace asks.
“Don’t whine. They are adults. They can stay up as long as they want. You two are kids. And will go to bed right now.” Patrick says firmly. The room erupts into laugher.
~+~
Patrick wakes up to his cell. (He never learns that’s the thing.)
“It’s fucking five thirty in the morning,” He says after checking the clock.
“I know, but how is it going?”
“What?”
“The assimilation!” Pete says irritated. He sounds too awake for Patrick’s liking.
“Five thirty. Morning. I want to sleep. Good night, Pete.”
Patrick doesn’t hear Pete’s answer.
Problem is, Pete’s little call woke him and no a mount of tossing and turning was going to send him back to sleep. Defeated, he stumbles into his kitchen, because now that he’s awake he wants something to drink. Some water or juice or whatever the Cobras left in his fridge.
He doesn’t turn on the lights, because he doesn’t need it, because usually no one is sitting on his kitchen floor waiting for him to stumble over them.
“Fuck!” He hisses.
“Sorry!” Someone whispers back. Patrick grips the kitchen counter to steady himself.
“Whatever. Why are you sitting on the floor in the dark?” Patrick wants to know. He’s sure he’s had this conversation once before. Maybe more.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Not your bed, hmm?” Patrick asks. He knows all about it.
“Yeah…” the person sounds sheepish, must be one of the younger boys, he thinks.
“So instead you’re sitting on my kitchen floor, eating my food and drinking the rest of my juice?” He is mostly joking.
“Yeah, no. I mean. Yeah, but I can totally buy you new juice in the morning.”
“Chill. God. I was kidding,” Patrick says yawning. He goes over to the fridge and finds some milk, so he pours it into a glass and closes the fridge again. In the light he can make out Trace’s features before it’s cut off by closing the door. Patrick sits down on a chair and silently drinks his milk, thinking about Pete. And how this kid reminds him of Pete and really. He gets a headache.
“Thanks for letting us stay here…” Trace says.
“No big deal.” Patrick answers taking a sip of his milk. (It really isn’t. He has enough space.) Trace is still sitting on the floor.
“It is…for us, I mean. We’re kinda nobodies and you just let us stay and the whole thing with the tour…”
”Gabe didn’t do anything to you guys, did he?” Patrick asks out of the blue. He wants to stop Trace’s rambling.
“What? No. He really, really tried though.”
Patrick nods, he isn’t sure Trace can see it in the dark of the kitchen, but maybe, after all he’s sitting far longer here than Patrick. His eyes probably got used to it already.
“Yeah, thought he would. That’s why Pete wanted you with them…” Patrick says.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Patrick answers, downing the rest of his milk.
“If we survive Gabe we’ll survive everything, hmmm?” Trace says with a soft laugh. His laugh is different from Pete’s, but Patrick likes it anyway.
“Something like that.” Patrick replies, getting up. He isn’t really surprised that Trace’s brain works similar to Pete’s. “You should go to bed, try to sleep a bit more.”
“Hey, Patrick?”
“Yeah?”
“Why you up?”
“Pete.” Patrick says shrugging.
“So, you and Pete…” Trace begins. Patrick stops at the door.
“Go to bed,” he says and leaves.
He pulls his cell out from under his cushion and calls Pete as soon as he’s in his bedroom again. Door closed.
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“Can’t, asshole,” Patrick answers.
“You should.”
Patrick shrugs, almost petulantly. “I don’t need to be anywhere tomorrow.”
“You need to be here…” Pete teases.
“Shut up…your assimilation worked…”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Well, Trace, the younger you, the secretary you, was sitting in my kitchen in the dark asking questions about you. He is probably still sitting on my kitchen floor in the dark…”
“Great!” Pete says, he sounds satisfied. Patrick thinks it’s really too early in the morning to sound like that. Patrick keeps quiet. “And you just called to tell me that?”
“Maybe…”
“Patrick…”
“Shut up. He reminds me of you. When you where younger, okay?”
“Okay.” Pete says softly and doesn’t hang up until Patrick’s asleep.
~+~
Manson keeps stealing glances at Patrick the next morning. Patrick really doesn’t know what that is all about and he is too tired to ask.
“Patrick, there is no juice in your fridge,” Vicky says. Gabe tells her to not be so fucking loud, his head is killing him.
“Someone drank it all last night,” Patrick answers drinking his coffee, looking directly at Trace.
“You do have tea? Right?” She asks, he nods, waving his hand in the direction of the second cupboard on the left. He always keeps tea around for Ryan.
“Chai?”
“For Ryan…” Patrick says yawning. “There is some herbal shit there too.”
“For Bill.” Gabe says with a smile.
“You look like you didn’t sleep at all,” Cash says, he’s making toast.
“Pete.” Because that single word encompasses an encyclopaedia of explanations.
“Okay,” Cash answers throwing toast on a platter and putting it in the middle of the table.
“Spencer would’ve made pancakes.” Alex says.
“I’m not Spencer.”
“You’re far prettier…” Gabe answers with a straight face.
“Shut up. Eat your toast.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You too,” Patrick says to Trace and Mason. “Coffee alone doesn’t keep you going. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you otherwise.”
“He means the Ways.” Vicky explains sitting down next to Patrick with a cup of herbal tea. Gabe raises an eyebrow. “Shut up, I miss him.” She says a bit defensive. (The ‘too’ goes unsaid.) Gabe smiles.
Mason glances at Trace and Trace just shrugs. They all heard rumours. Blake keeps quiet, smoking a cigarette and nursing a cup of coffee. It’s too early in the fucking morning for him. And Anthony was up and doing some yoga shit in their room. So, Mason nods and takes a piece of toast.
“Yes, we will make Rock stars out of you yet,” Cash says, leaning on Gabe. Gabe doesn’t seem to mind. They’re a cuddly bunch. They and Panic, and really the whole fucking label.
~+~
The next time he sees them, it’s on their own tour. The first time they play he stays backstage and watches.
“I like them….” Pete says. His breath ghosting over Patrick’s skin.
“I thought you would despise the secretary stealing your husband,”
“Who is now obsessed with that metaphor? Besides they’re not stealing anything right now,” Pete asks laughing. Patrick shrugs. It’s not a bad one, after all. Pete has said weirder things in his life. “You like them too, don’t you?”
“They remind me of Panic, without the drama.”
“You love the drama.”
“You love the drama, because Ryan is like you…except where he isn’t. He understands you.” Patrick answers. Pete hugs him tight. His hands clasped around Patrick’s middle.
“You understand me,” he says with a kiss to Patrick’s neck. Patrick keeps quiet.
~+~
“My shrink wants in my pants!” Pete exclaims as he enters the room.
Patrick just wants to smack his head against something really hard. Or better: He could smack Pete’s head against something really hard. Yes. That is a brilliant plan. One of his best in fact.
“Are you insane?” He asks. Which is kind of rhetorical.
Pete just looks at him, Patrick rolls his eyes. “I know you are.” Patrick adds.
“It’s a small line between insanity and genius. Everyone knows that.” Pete answers.
“Yeah, well…” Patrick smiles. What else can he do? It’s Pete for fuck’s sake. “So, your shrink wants in your pants?”
“Everyone wants in my pants…” Ok, Patrick totally walked into that one.
“Gabe says exactly the same thing,” Trace throws in and Pete looks at him. He looks surprised to see Trace there. But, well, Pete is sometimes to much involved in Pete to see anything on the peripheral of his life.
“What is he doing here?” He asks Patrick, who shrugs.
“Hanging out. Mason is in the kitchen making…something.”
“Pancakes.” Trace supplies helpfully.
“Pancakes in your kitchen?” Pete asks, one eyebrow raised. Patrick nods.
“He’s a good cook.” Trace says.
“Yeah…well…I’m sure he isn’t as good as Spencer.”
“No one is as good as Spencer.” Patrick says. Pete nods satisfied.
Later when they’re alone again and Pete is sitting upon the floor eating left over pancakes with cream while Patrick tries to write some music - well, not really, he’s just messing around with some tunes, Patrick wonders why Pete really came over.
“So, what makes you think your shrink wants your ass?” He asks. Patrick knows he’s going to regret it, but he can’t seem to help himself.
“That’s kinda out of the blue, Pattycakes.”
“It’s not. You said it just a few hours ago…”
“Well…why are those kids hanging out here?” Pete is dodging the question, which is weird for him.
“They are nice.”
“They are the enemy.”
“Please…you want to eat them alive,” Patrick says. Pete gulps down a piece of his pancake and looks up at Patrick.
“That would be kinda cannibalistic. Wouldn’t it?”
“In your case? Paedophilic.”
“I don’t want to eat them alive like that.” Pete huffs. “But now that you mention it…”
“So what have you done to encourage your shrinks, uh, attention?” Patrick cuts Pete off before that ball can get rolling, but he has a feeling he’s too late.
“I haven’t done a thing!” Pete is the picture of innocence.
“She’s your shrink!”
“I know.”
“You so do.”
“I don’t.”
“Tell yourself that.”
“Patrick!” It’s a warning, but Patrick doesn’t care.
“Pete.”
“You!” Pete says and it sounds like a war cry as he lets his fork fall onto the plate and jumps up to tickle Patrick’s sides.
“I hate you!” Patrick cries out. He’s laughing so hard his whole body is shaking.
“You love me!” Pete shouts back.
And that’s so goddamned true, Patrick thinks for a moment before everything falls away, because Pete is attacking his belly.
~+~
Patrick isn’t really sure how it happens that Mason and Trace stay at his house after the tour ends. (He thinks it went something like this: I’m not sure I want to go home yet, blah, blah, blah and Patrick said: Well, you could stay a few days at my place, no problem.)
The funny thing is there was no Pete involved, so he can’t blame Pete for this like he usually does.
It’s strange to walk into his kitchen to find Mason brewing coffee and making toast or pancakes or something. Mason is always up too early. But it’s kind off nice too. He likes having people around.
It’s more distracting, alarming really, to find Trace in the middle of the night on his kitchen floor, because he couldn’t sleep again. But he’s getting used to that too. After all, he has experience with insomnia. He lived with Pete in a fucking van.
~+~
“Patrick!” Pete shouts, he’s barging in without ringing the bell, using his key (for emergencies!) and with Hemmy hot on his heels.
“Yeah! Living room!” He shouts back.
“Patrick! I have…” he stops in the door and just looks for a moment in utter silence. “What are they doing here?” He asks pointing a finger at Mason and then Trace.
“Watching a movie…” Mason says, he is going crimson again. Patrick throws Pete a look.
“I can see that!” Pete answers. Hemmy ignores him and hops on the couch, between Trace and Patrick. Patrick scratches his ears.
“Well, why do you ask then?” Patrick asks and Trace snickers behind his hand.
“Wanna watch with us?” Mason asks, he is still a bit pink in the face. Patrick thinks it’s adorable. As does Pete, Patrick can tell.
“Yeah…” he answers, shoving Trace aside to flop down on the couch next to Patrick and Hemmy.
“Hey!”
“I know him longer,” Pete answers as way of explanation. Trace sighs. Patrick rolls his eyes.
~+~
“So, you like that kid?” Pete asks, two days later when they’re sitting alone at the kitchen table. It’s the middle of the fucking night and he really would like to go to sleep, but Pete isn’t coming over as often anymore as he used to, so.
“Yeah, you don’t?” Patrick takes a sip of his tea and looks at Pete. In the dim light he looks both younger and older. A bit like Trace.
“I…don’t know. He…Patrick!” He says and Patrick nearly chocks on his tea.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. He really wants to steal…” Pete says and stops, taking a deep breath. “He wants to steal you.”
“That’s insane. How can he steal me?”
“He is like the rest of the world.”
“He wants in my pants. I know,” Patrick says, rolling his eyes.
“But?”
“Pete…” Patrick says getting up to hug Pete (because Pete is a needy bitch.). “He is not going to steal me away from you.”
“I didn’t say that!” Pete says.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay,” Pete answers not letting go.
“Okay,” Patrick sighs, hugging him tight one last time and letting go. “You’re so stupid sometimes.”
“He still wants you.” Pete is not going to drop it.
“Don’t be stupid. He’s a kid.”
“With a crush.”
“Not all kids with a crush act on them…”
“Some should,” Pete says and he sounds regretful. Patrick doesn’t know what Pete might regret now, because honestly he always acted on his crushes.
“Go to bed…”
“Can I sleep in yours?” Pete asks.
“Yeah, idiot, you can.”
Patrick hears Trace’s footsteps as he puts the mugs into the sink and looks up to see Trace standing at the door.
“Sorry…couldn’t sleep.” He says.
“I know.” Patrick answers. “Want some company?”
“No, it’s okay, I’ll just fetch a glass of water and…go to bed.” Trace answers, still standing in the door.
“Hmmm…” Patrick says non commentary.
“Kid,” Pete says and Trace looks at him.
“Yeah?” Trace doesn’t look scared, even if there is some hostility between the two of them the whole two days Pete is already staying at Patrick’s too. (Patrick isn’t sure how this happened either. Possibly it went something like this: I’m staying, you will need to lend me clothes or I’ll buy some… And Patrick just nodded.)
“You could…” Pete begins and Patrick just fucking knows what he is going to say and he will not let Pete do that.
“Pete!” He yells.
“I…”
“Shut up and go to bed!” Patrick says stern. Pete smiles at him. Patrick knows this is not the last word spoken here.
“Meet you there.”
Patrick sighs. He takes a glass out of the cupboard, fills it with water and gives it to Trace.
“And you…just take it and go to bed.” He says equally stern. Trace nods with a small smile. Patrick isn’t sure he likes that smile. It looks too much like Pete’s.
~+~
Five days in Pete’s stay at Patrick’s Mason declares he’s going back to his parents.
Trace stays.
Pete is remarkably silent on that matter. Which is suspicious in and of itself. Patrick just doesn’t want to think about it right now or ever.
~+~
“You’re planning something,” Patrick says and Pete looks up from his paper. He isn’t writing he is just doodling something on a napkin. God alone knows why he isn’t using real paper instead. It’s Pete shouldn’t be an explanation, but sadly it is.
“Always.” Pete says ominously.
“I…I don’t know, I’m not sure what it is…but I’m sure I don’t want to be part of it.” Patrick answers. Pete pads the empty space beside him on the couch and Patrick sits down.
“You really, really do.” He says, leaning his head on Patrick’s shoulder. Patrick sighs, slinging an arm around Pete.
“I don’t.”
“It’s not like he’s sixteen…” Pete says. And Patrick wonders if Pete ever thought about Patrick like that for a second back then.
“He’s a kid still.”
“You like him, he likes you. I like…”
“I don’t even want to know.”
“It’s because you already do.” Pete says, shifting so he can look Patrick in the face. Patrick closes his eyes. “Patrick…”
“Shut up, will you?” Patrick says softly. Pete kisses his check and does.
~+~
It should be weirder to live with Pete and Trace in his house, but it really isn’t. They slip into a routine pretty quickly, even if Patrick misses Mason’s pancakes a lot.
~+~
To see Pete and Trace curled up on the sofa one morning, Hemmy drooling on Pete’s shirt…well, Patrick’s shirt, makes something clench inside Patrick. He shakes his head as if he could shake that slight feeling of jealousy away with it too. It doesn’t work. It never really does that way. He sighs and Pete stirs.
“Hey…” he mumbles.
“Hey, I’m making coffee, you coming?”
“Yeah…” Pete says, carefully getting up so he doesn’t wake up Trace just yet.
~+~
Trace kisses Patrick the same night. It’s soft and hesitant and really everything Patrick thought it wouldn’t be.
“I have had enough of this,” he says as he lets go of Patrick’s lips. Patrick closes his eyes and tries to process what Trace is saying. It’s the middle of the night and the kitchen floor is cold and there is no moon outside so he can just see dark shapes.
“Trace…” he begins, he isn’t sure what he will say, what he should say, but he knows he must say something.
“You were in love with Pete once. Right?” Trace says, Patrick can feel his breath on his skin. He smells like cherry juice. Patrick nods, it’s not the whole truth, because he still is in love and that’s why he can’t do this. “And you did nothing…” Trace continues.
“No…I was sixteen, for god’s sake.” Patrick answers.
“That’s no excuse.”
“Pete isn’t even gay.”
“He totally would be for you. I mean, look at you!” Trace answers. Patrick ducks his head, something he didn’t really grow out of. He can’t take compliments too well, not from strange scene kids who think he’s hot or brilliant or anything like that.
“Shut up. And don’t do that ever again.”
“What?” Trace asks, his fingers stroking lightly over Patrick’s arm.
“That and the kissing. You are a kid and I’m responsible for you as long as you are here and…”
“You’re think it’s a bad idea and I’m a dumb kid. But, Patrick: I know you’re still in love with him.” Trace answers. “And I don’t care, because I know you like me too.” He adds and kisses Patrick again.
Fuck, Patrick thinks. He just can’t do that. He can’t.
But he’s still clinging to Trace’s shirt and not letting go.
~+~
“So, he is the secretary. And he did steal you…” Pete says the next morning.
“What?” Patrick is too tired, he couldn’t sleep. That’s why he spent the night on the couch as Trace left the kitchen - he didn’t want to wake up Pete. Pete always seems to sleep better in Patrick’s bed.
“He stole you from me.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Because he doesn’t. Not really.
“I saw you kissing last night.” Pete says calmly from the doorway.
“Pete…”
“I packed my stuff… I mean, mostly it’s Hemmy’s stuff, but you know.”
“You’re leaving?” Patrick’s asks, he can’t believe this.
“Yeah, he stole you Patrick.”
“I’m not yours to steal!” Patrick says even though he knows he’s lying. He’s been Pete’s since day one.
“I really didn’t.” Trace says from behind Pete. Pete doesn’t turn around. “I can’t. Not really, because…”
“Shut up!” Patrick says sharply. Trace does, Pete looks at him steady, it unnerves Patrick a fucking lot.
“Patrick…”
“God, I hate you so fucking much.” Patrick sighs, there is no real heat behind his words. He seems defeated.
“Patrick,” Pete says again crossing the room to crouch at Patrick’s feet. He takes Patrick’s hand in his and kisses his fingertips. “It’s okay.”
“What? What is okay, Pete?” Patrick says a bit too sharply, he’s staring at the doorway where Trace is still standing. Just watching.
“Us, okay? Us.” Pete says and Patrick isn’t sure he means just the two of them or Trace too, because that would be crazy and totally Pete. So, it’s likely the latter.
“You think there can’t possibly be anything wrong with love, do you?” Patrick asks, Pete looks from Trace to Patrick and then to Trace again.
“No. I don’t think there could be possibly anything wrong with love. There is nothing wrong with loving you at least.” Pete answers, beckoning Trace to come closer.
“Pete…”
“You like him, he likes you and we were meant to be from the first day. Remember when you wanted to punch me and shut the door in my pretty face?” Pete says. Patrick laughs. It’s true after all.
“Okay…” Patrick says softly. Pete grins and kisses his lips, his check, his nose. “Okay,” he repeats, grapping Trace’s hand and holding it maybe too hard. Trace leans down to place a soft kiss on Patrick’s temple. “Okay.” He says again. He can feel Trace’s smile against his skin. It’s a good feeling.
~end~