The Importance of a (Sexual) Education - Standalone
Title: The Importance of a (Sexual) Education
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Peterick, sides of Gabilliam and Ryden
Summary: bb!Patrick goes on a field trip to the Field Museum and Pete, his boyfriend in college, signs up to chaperone!
Disclaimer: This is fictional.
Author Note: Idea from a prompt off anon_lovefest. I truly had no choice but to write this. I saw the words 'Field Museum' and with how badly I'm in love with the Field Museum I wasn't able to resist.
"Tell me you didn't."
"I did."
Patrick hit Pete in the shoulder, and Pete frowned, "Hey! What was that for!" Because okay, maybe Patrick wasn't that big, in fact he was kind of short and Pete loved that about him, but Pete wasn't that big either and when Patrickwas pissed he can actually do some harm, and Pete could really stand to live without the bruises. Unless they came in a nice way that accompanied sex with Patrick, if that is at all possible. Pete would like that a lot.
"You were supposed to tell me you didn't!" And oh, so that should've been obvious.
The frown on Pete's face deepened, and Patrick sighed at that because it's downright pitiful and shouldn't be allowed to happen. Pete always smiled. It was kind of a horse like smile, but it wasn't so awful. Patrick had gotten used to it. The whole accustomed to your face shebang. "I thought it would be nice," Pete said earnestly, and just the tone of voice alone makes it completely believable because Pete's a douche, there's no doubt about that, but sometimes he's capable of being a nice and normal human being. Sometimes. “We rarely get to see each other now that I’m in college!”
That’s a slight over exaggeration considering Pete made a point of coming home every weekend and flooding Patrick’s inbox with text messages when he’s supposed to be in class and getting an education, but Patrick took it in stride. When wasn’t Pete Wentz over exaggerating? His existence practically counted on it, and either way Patrick stopped trying to correct that years ago. There are some battles you just can’t win, and with all the other things Patrick could list about Pete Wentz --most of them bad, but some of them become endearing which Pat equates to Stockholm Syndrome-- over exaggeration fails to be high on the catalog of things that need to be changed. “You can’t just decide you’re going to be a chaperone on my school field trip. It’s wrong.”
“So wrong it’s right.”
“No. So wrong it’s wrong.” Patrick shot back, but by the huge grin on Pete’s face there was no winning the argument. Patrick never won any arguments, not with Pete. Least not about the completely senseless things like the fact that Pete Wentz suddenly decided he was mature enough to be an adult escort on an educational field trip to the Field Museum, none of which adds up to anything beyond absolute disaster in Patrick’s mind because he recalled too well what Pete was like back in high school and he swore Pete didn’t learn a damn thing. Just went the entire four years having things go in one ear and out the other, and Patrick liked Pete, he swore he does, but he’d like to get good grades and he’d really like to graduate.
“It’ll be fun!” Pete continued and that annoying smile didn’t leave his face which made it really hard for Patrick to be mad. Pete was just trying to arrange for them to have more time together is all, and why would he be upset over that? Except for the fact that he knew something was going to go terribly wrong, but Pete has got some sort of fucking spell over him or something that’s making it impossible for him to stay angry.
“Do something stupid and I swear I’ll dump you.”
------------------------------
Patrick winced as the big yellow school bus hit a bump, causing the entire back of the bus to literally fly a foot or so into air. Why the hell do they make school buses without seatbelts? That seems to be a huge safety fail. He dug his knees into the back of the seat in front of him; one hand going immediately to his head to make sure his trucker hat was still firmly perched on top of his head. Typically teachers didn’t allow students to have any sort of hat on, what with gangsters and hat tilting being such an issue in the comforts of way far from inner city Chicago suburban life, but the one actual school faculty member who was in charge of the trip knew and liked Patrick well enough to let small rule infractions like that slide.
“Psst.”
Turning in his seat, Patrick saw the head of William Beckett peering over at him, leaning across the small aisle from his seat at the very back of the bus.
“I hear your boyfriend is our chaperone,” William Beckett continued when Patrick refused to give a verbal response. The girl/boy (because Patrick didn’t feel like deeming him a boy anymore) had a smile on his face and was talking in a quiet tone as if it was some special little secret between the two of them.
“I guess he is,” Patrick answered, wincing when the bus hit yet another pothole. Was the driver trying to hit every damn one? He wouldn’t normally sit towards the back of the bus, he was more the front of the bus by the teacher type if he had to admit it, but he chose the back because Pete had to sit near the front with the other chaperones and despite his like for Pete he wanted some distance. He didn’t think Pete would understand the logic of not making out or groping when Patrick’s teachers are around and can see. “What’s it to…” Patrick started to retort to William’s non response, but when he looked over William was no longer leaning across the aisle but instead looking rather comfy next to his own boyfriend Gabe Saporta who had taken to trying to suck William’s face off.
“Oh get a room,” Patrick said snidely.
“I would really like to,” Gabe answered, tugging Bill closer into his arms so that he was practically in Gabe’s arms except for his legs which were sprawled across the seat and into the aisle. Fuck long legged freaks. William chuckled briefly but that was fast cut off as Gabe pressed his lips to Bill’s again.
Fuck couples too.
------------------------------
“No Pete,” Patrick said, a stale line, inwardly cursing his teacher for thinking that pairing everyone off was actually a good idea. It was clearly not a good idea, especially since there were an odd number of people attending the field trip. He thought that teachers had to be licensed in order to get a job; did they never get tested on their basic math skills? But that was all peachy keen because of course Pete had offered to be Patrick’s partner, keep an eye on the ‘little guy’, make sure he stays out of trouble. With Pete’s bright smile and kind nature, the teacher was too easily convinced. It Patrick was the principal of his school, he wouldn’t be so lenient with the hiring process. Being able to do simple division would be a requirement, as well as being able to say no to charming pervy college boys. Which means maybe that by Patrick’s own standards he himself might not be able to make the cut.
“C’mooon,” Pete whined, his nose pressed against Patrick’s skin, pressed into the crook of his neck.
“No.”
The argument had gotten old, it was one repeated over and over again in many different situations and although it rarely ended well for Patrick --Pete was one hell of a persistent idiot-- he kept on trying. A fact which only got harder when Pete started kissing along his neck. Patrick groaned as he pulled away, “You can’t just go around doing that, we’re in a museum.”
Pete simply stared. “So?”, and he obviously did not understand. There was no getting through his thick head.
“Look Pete, the Tsavo lions,” Patrick changed tactics quickly, pointing in the distance and walking towards the two stuffed lions that were safely locked up behind glass which was a big plus in Pat’s mind because behind glass meant Pete could not touch. They had gone through that issue once already in the Evolving Planet exhibit where Pete had ignored the do not touch signs because ‘Ooh look Pattycakes it’s a Stegosaurus!’ and it had been super embarrassing when one of the employees had come up to them and given them both a stern warning about putting fingers where they’re not supposed to be --and oh god, why would anyone say that to Pete, it only makes his eyebrows waggle so hard that you’d swear they were about to launch right off the top of his forehead, but at least he didn’t say any variation of ‘that’s what she/he said’. The employee watched them until they left the exhibit, totally giving them the evil eye which Pat didn’t think was fair because he didn’t even do anything, and wasn’t Pete supposed to be the mature responsible in charge one? Not that he thought that would actually happen, but it would be nice for once.
Pete followed, looking with wide eyes at the lions as Patrick read the inscription on the plaque beside it which described the tragic story. “Those things ate people?” Pete asked, and Patrick wondered if he had even been listening to Pat talk. “That’s wicked cool.”
Pete leaned closer as Patrick whipped out his homework sheet that he’d been given prior to their entry into the museum. It contained a list of questions that he needed to find the answers to by wandering through the museum, and Patrick recalled from his glance through it earlier that he’d seen something about the Tsavo lions. Maybe he could get something accomplished with Pete around after all.
------------------------------
Speaking too soon is bad to do.
“Trick. Trick, are you done yet?”
Patrick wandered along the edge of the wall, pausing every few steps to read the note below each picture in the civil rights exhibit made up solely of pictures from the era. It was not a permanent exhibit, and Patrick had always been somewhat of a geek and he actually liked history class. Plus it was one of the questions on the worksheet.
“Triiiiiiick,” Pete grumbled loudly from his spot lying on the floor in the middle of the room. He didn’t find pictures very interesting to look at. He thought Pat’s ass was nice to look at, but that wasn’t going anywhere as Patrick had stopped listening to that over fifteen minutes ago and my god, how many stupid pictures were they going to have to look at? There was a reason Pete never did well in high school. Sports and music, those he could do. Academics not so much. He was all for civil rights, believe you me, go Martin Luther King Jr. and whatnot, but this was not how he expected the day going. Not at all.
Pete pressed his nose into the carpeted floor and inhaled slowly, wondering if he just didn’t move if Patrick would think he was dead or something and rush to his side. Maybe give him CPR. That could be pleasant, even if it would inevitably lead to him being hit afterwards. He could withstand a little pain for some tongue action.
------------------------------
Sipping diet coke through a straw, Patrick watched out of the corner of his eye as Pete inhaled a big Mac. His stomach grumbled slightly, but he ignored it. Unlike Pete he was unable to eat the entire menu at McDonald’s without there being some unfortunate weight gain consequences.
“We totally need to go see the mummies,” Pete said through the chewed up bits of burger in his mouth. “Can you imagine being mummified? They take out all your guts. And your brain with a hook through your nose.”
Patrick was filled with a mixture of disgust and a small bit of pride. He didn’t really want to hear while any of that while eating --picking half heartedly at a wilted McDonald’s salad, but still-- yet he was sort of proud that Pete even remembered any of that. Now if only he could retain any of the non repulsive history facts. “Thanks a ton, I can’t eat now,” Patrick wrinkled his nose, pushing his barely touched salad away.
Pete nodded, stuffing a last handful of fries into his mouth before getting up and tossing the trash into a garbage can. “Don’t forget Rexy!”
Grumbling, Patrick stood as well, grabbing the bright red wax T-Rex that Pete had gotten from the moldarama machine that had been in the corridor leading to the McDonald’s in the museum. Patrick had tried to steer Pete away from the machines, but it proved impossible.
“You can’t hold Rexy like that!” Pete whined, taking the small toy which had thankfully cooled down since its creation. The hot wax had almost burned Patrick’s fingertips when he tried to recover it from the bin, and Pete had insisted on kissing them better. Cradling the dinosaur in his hands, Pete smiled, “It’s our baby.”
Patrick only grumbled in response. He had wanted the green Apatosaurus, but Pete had put up a huge fuss about how there was no such thing as the Apatosaurus, it was the Brontosaurus, and Patrick knew if he was allowed to continue Pete would only start pouting about how people ruin everything and how Pluto was no longer a planet, and so Patrick just gave in.
That’s how things usually went.
------------------------------
It took twenty minutes for Patrick and Pete to properly find their way into the ancient Egypt exhibit. Of course it would’ve taken a lot less time if Pete had just let Patrick lead the way because although it was dorky even to think it Patrick sort of felt at home in a museum, he liked the smell really, and he knew his way around. He also knew how to read signs, something that Pete failed at miserably, and they stood there squabbling for a full seven minutes about which way to go. Pat wanted to head up the stairs and enter through the pyramid like they were supposed to, and Pete wanted to enter from the bottom floor. It was closer, Pete had argued, but it was through the end of the exhibit and you’re not supposed to begin at the end, even if it is where the mummies are and even if the mummies might be the coolest part of all. Patrick wanted to see it all.
Pete broke into a run as soon as they descended the pyramid staircase which led to the actual real life mummies, darting away from Pat’s side so fast that he didn’t even notice Patrick shiver as he looked around. “Mummies can’t hurt you.” Patrick told himself quietly, feeling pathetic but it wasn’t his fault that Pete had decided to watch a horror flick staring none other than a dead wrapped up old Egyptian in preparation for their big trip. Patrick wasn’t usually so susceptible to folk lore, but the place was darkly lit in order to preserve the integrity of the items on display, and so it was creepy to begin with. Not somewhere Patrick would want to be after closing. “Dead things can’t hurt anyone.”
“Actually, that’s not exactly true.”
Patrick turned as he heard a familiar voice correct him from behind. He wasn’t too surprised to see Ryan Ross standing there, peering past the glass at a small mummy of a child who looked way too small to be normal as far as Patrick was concerned.
“Don’t you think there’s a grain of truth in the mummy’s curse?” Ryan added, finally flicking his eyes over to Patrick. Patrick wouldn’t have thought Ryan the morbid type; in fact Ryan had always seemed sensible, appealing to logic rather than myths.
Patrick opened his mouth to ask where Brendon was --because there was no chance Ryan had managed to escape that boy and get alone time, not after the show Brendon had made of picking Ryan to be his museum buddy, going on and on about how much fun they were going to have and how he’d never let Ryan get lost while Ryan bemoaned his fate as if he didn’t secretly like the attention-- but as arms wrapped around his torso and a voice chirps in his ear “HI PATRICK!” he knew he’d been beaten to the punch.
“Hey Brendon,” Patrick winced, raising his hand to the ear Brendon had just practically yelled into, but by the time he answered Brendon had pulled away and was turned back towards Pete who had come out of nowhere, also not surprising to Patrick since Pete and Brendon tend to find each other at times that Patrick judges inopportune, and that would be right about now because they’re both loudly shooting their mouths off about something that doesn’t matter to anyone but them.
“I’m telling you, T -Rex is the coolest animal here.” Pete says, dead serious, he believes in what he’s saying and he can get over zealous about these things.
“You’re wrong. Ryan, tell him he’s wrong.” Brendon says, jutting out his bottom lip in a way that he shouldn’t be capable of doing because he’s a boy and not a girl, but either way Ryan is back to looking at the artifacts and isn’t listening --or if he is listening he’s doing a damn good job of appearing like he isn’t, which makes Patrick wonder if Ryan could teach him how to do that one day. It would be a good skill to have considering how difficult it can be to say no when Brendon turns his puppy dog pout on you. Patrick doesn’t want to have to deal with that, he already struggles when it comes to Pete.
“No way is a narwhal cooler than a T-Rex.”
“It is too! It’s a whale and unicorn remix and there’s nothing cooler than that. Unicorn!”
Patrick idly wondered who thought it was a good idea to let Brendon get anywhere near the stuffed narwhals. Brendon has a unicorn kink or something. Patrick tries not to ask questions. Instead, he chooses to follow Ryan as the boy walks away from the argument.
It took five more minutes for Brendon and Pete to come up to them with matching stupid smiles. Rexy was being held by Brendon who is treating the wax mold as if it were one of the most precious things in existence, which meant they must have made up. Patrick would’ve asked the outcome of their argument if he cared more and trusted the question to not rekindle their debate.
“Brendon agreed to watch Rexy while we get some alone time,” Pete stated, winking because he’s obviously implying something when he says alone time. Pete Wentz never means quiet relaxation when he says alone time. Everyone knew that.
“I’ll treat him like he’s my own,” Brendon nodded along with Pete as Pete grabbed Patrick’s arm and started dragging him off before Patrick can pull away or begin to complain.
As Patrick was tugged away, he swore he heard Brendon in the background asking Ryan why they can’t have a baby too. No doubt Patrick will be hearing an earful from Ryan later.
------------------------------
“We’ve only got an hour left,” Pete said, pulling Patrick around the corner, barely looking both way to make sure no one was watching before pressing his lips against Patrick’s who’s only response was to pull away, his back hitting a wall.
“No.”
“No one’s here,” Pete tried to throw Patrick’s inhibitions aside, kissing along Patrick’s jaw, sliding his hand to the back of Patrick’s neck, tilting Patrick’s head up, moving close enough that Patrick became acutely aware of just how much body heat Pete was letting off. But it was wrong, and Patrick knew that. Patrick was far from an exhibitionist and it didn’t matter to him if his boyfriend didn’t mind an audience because Patrick most certainly did.
“I said no,” Patrick said, his voice faltering as Pete palmed the front of Patrick’s pants. Sure Patrick didn’t wear skin tight pants like Pete did, but they weren’t baggy enough to hide the kind of issue he’d get if Pete kept that up. Pete knew that and wasn’t about to hold back.
“No one’s going to come this way,” Pete whispered roughly, nipping at Patrick’s ear, not giving up, too stubborn for Patrick’s own good. When Patrick didn’t push him away he moved his parted lips down to Patrick’s neck, pushing his hips against Patrick’s, being very obvious about what he’d rather be doing.
Patrick’s mind was gone by the time Pete’s hand managed to find its way down the front of Patrick’s pants, groping through his boxers, and Patrick kept thinking that there was no way that Pete was wearing boxers under those girly excuse for skinny jeans, and that thought was sort of hot. Already half hard and flushed, Patrick accidentally let a whiny groan bubble up from his throat, a sure sign that Pete was getting his way. Pete pulled his mouth away from Pat’s neck, smirking like he’d just won the World Series or something. Before Patrick could clear the fog in his head, Pete was unzipping Patrick’s pants. It took every ounce of effort for Patrick to grip Pete’s wrist, “Not here, we’ll get caught.”
By the time Pete had located and yanked Patrick into the nearest bathroom, Patrick was too far gone to bother complaining about the circumstances. Thoughts of how many germs there must be even on the walls of the cramped bathroom stalls and god how gross were pushed back in favor of yes, yes, please as Pete sank to his knees and took Patrick’s cock into his mouth, flicking his tongue across the head. Pete’s fingers --very lovely fingers even if Pete bites his nails to the quick and traces over them with black Sharpie which wears down to his cuticles-- wrap around what he can’t fit into his mouth, his head bobbing in a messy tempo, the older boy distracted by the tent he’s pitching in his own pants, but he’s not going to ask Pat for too much, not gonna push, not unless Pat asks for it.
“Pete,” Patrick breaths, “Pete, I need… Pete.” And the blowjob is nice, way better than nice actually though Patrick’s not going to force his brain into thesaurus mode, but he wants more, and as Pete pulls away, not even bothering to try to lessen the tawdry wet noise as Patrick’s now slick cock slides out of his mouth, Patrick knows Pete understands perfectly. It works well like that, Pete reading Patrick’s mind even when Patrick wished he wouldn’t. It means that some things Patrick doesn’t have to say out loud, Pete doesn’t need him to.
Steadying himself with his palms against the stall door, Patrick gasps as Pete pushes in, one arm protectively around Patrick’s waist. “It hurt?” Patrick was a good boy, he was, he didn’t usually do things like this even if Pete was the type. Usually they had time and a comfy bed with a warm comforter and clean sheets, yet in the heat of the moment being fucked from behind in a bathroom stall was just as hot, maybe more so.
Patrick shook his head, giving Pete permission to keep moving, keep thrusting, “S’good.”
Pete’s hand gripped Patrick’s cock once more, stroking roughly as his thrusts fell out of rhythm. Patrick struggled to remain quiet, moving one of his hands to cover his mouth, semi conscious of the fact that they were still in public. Pete however had to be contrary as always, and Patrick’s name mixed up with a moan fell from Pete’s lips as he came not too long after he stroked Patrick to his own climax.
Breathing heavier, Pete rested his head on Patrick’s shoulder like he always did, waiting for the person two stalls down to flush, wash his hands, and then leave before pulling out of Patrick and pulling up his pants. “Love you, Tricky,” Pete said, his voice sounding huskier.
“Of course you do, fucker,” Patrick was blushing already and Pete laughed because he knew that Pat was really saying I love you too.
“You know it.”
------------------------------
A quick wash off in the bathroom sink and fifteen minutes later, Pete and Patrick ambled up to the gathering crowd, the teacher standing at the forefront and marking names off on a list. Patrick rubbed the back of his neck, trying to will away the sense of nervousness he felt, wondering if anyone could tell what him and Pete had been doing in the men’s bathroom. He had tried to smooth over his clothes as best as possible, but Pete was still rocking the just fucked look. Tutting quietly, Patrick ran his fingers through Pete’s hair, mumbling to himself about how he didn’t know why he ever took Pete anywhere, but Pete only grinned in return.
“Don’t look so guilty,” Patrick hissed.
“Guilty of what? I’m not feeling guilty.” Pete answered, looking over across the great hall at the dinosaur skeleton they had on display, “How much trouble do you think I’d get into if I tried to climb up Sue?”
Gabe and William joined the group before Patrick had the chance to berate Pete’s immaturity for the fifty millionth time. Gabe looped an arm around William’s waist, carding his fingers through William’s long hair, comforting the boy as William spoke in a quiet distressed voice about how he hoped the bunny in the taxidermy exhibit wasn’t killed.
“I’m sure he died a natural death after living a long happy bunny life,” Gabe nodded, sure of himself which appeared to appease William.
Patrick felt like he was surrounded by idiots.
“Patrick!” Brendon yelled as he barreled towards the others, holding out Rexy, “See, I did a good job, I didn’t let anything bad happen to Rexy. Me and Ryan showed him all the cool exhibits. I even got Ryan to hold him for a while, and Ryan did such a goo--“ Brendon gasped, effectively ending his rant for the moment, “Patrick, is that a hickey?!”
Patrick froze, instantly becoming pale as his hand flew to his neck, “PETE!”
Pete just laughed.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Peterick, sides of Gabilliam and Ryden
Summary: bb!Patrick goes on a field trip to the Field Museum and Pete, his boyfriend in college, signs up to chaperone!
Disclaimer: This is fictional.
Author Note: Idea from a prompt off anon_lovefest. I truly had no choice but to write this. I saw the words 'Field Museum' and with how badly I'm in love with the Field Museum I wasn't able to resist.
"Tell me you didn't."
"I did."
Patrick hit Pete in the shoulder, and Pete frowned, "Hey! What was that for!" Because okay, maybe Patrick wasn't that big, in fact he was kind of short and Pete loved that about him, but Pete wasn't that big either and when Patrickwas pissed he can actually do some harm, and Pete could really stand to live without the bruises. Unless they came in a nice way that accompanied sex with Patrick, if that is at all possible. Pete would like that a lot.
"You were supposed to tell me you didn't!" And oh, so that should've been obvious.
The frown on Pete's face deepened, and Patrick sighed at that because it's downright pitiful and shouldn't be allowed to happen. Pete always smiled. It was kind of a horse like smile, but it wasn't so awful. Patrick had gotten used to it. The whole accustomed to your face shebang. "I thought it would be nice," Pete said earnestly, and just the tone of voice alone makes it completely believable because Pete's a douche, there's no doubt about that, but sometimes he's capable of being a nice and normal human being. Sometimes. “We rarely get to see each other now that I’m in college!”
That’s a slight over exaggeration considering Pete made a point of coming home every weekend and flooding Patrick’s inbox with text messages when he’s supposed to be in class and getting an education, but Patrick took it in stride. When wasn’t Pete Wentz over exaggerating? His existence practically counted on it, and either way Patrick stopped trying to correct that years ago. There are some battles you just can’t win, and with all the other things Patrick could list about Pete Wentz --most of them bad, but some of them become endearing which Pat equates to Stockholm Syndrome-- over exaggeration fails to be high on the catalog of things that need to be changed. “You can’t just decide you’re going to be a chaperone on my school field trip. It’s wrong.”
“So wrong it’s right.”
“No. So wrong it’s wrong.” Patrick shot back, but by the huge grin on Pete’s face there was no winning the argument. Patrick never won any arguments, not with Pete. Least not about the completely senseless things like the fact that Pete Wentz suddenly decided he was mature enough to be an adult escort on an educational field trip to the Field Museum, none of which adds up to anything beyond absolute disaster in Patrick’s mind because he recalled too well what Pete was like back in high school and he swore Pete didn’t learn a damn thing. Just went the entire four years having things go in one ear and out the other, and Patrick liked Pete, he swore he does, but he’d like to get good grades and he’d really like to graduate.
“It’ll be fun!” Pete continued and that annoying smile didn’t leave his face which made it really hard for Patrick to be mad. Pete was just trying to arrange for them to have more time together is all, and why would he be upset over that? Except for the fact that he knew something was going to go terribly wrong, but Pete has got some sort of fucking spell over him or something that’s making it impossible for him to stay angry.
“Do something stupid and I swear I’ll dump you.”
------------------------------
Patrick winced as the big yellow school bus hit a bump, causing the entire back of the bus to literally fly a foot or so into air. Why the hell do they make school buses without seatbelts? That seems to be a huge safety fail. He dug his knees into the back of the seat in front of him; one hand going immediately to his head to make sure his trucker hat was still firmly perched on top of his head. Typically teachers didn’t allow students to have any sort of hat on, what with gangsters and hat tilting being such an issue in the comforts of way far from inner city Chicago suburban life, but the one actual school faculty member who was in charge of the trip knew and liked Patrick well enough to let small rule infractions like that slide.
“Psst.”
Turning in his seat, Patrick saw the head of William Beckett peering over at him, leaning across the small aisle from his seat at the very back of the bus.
“I hear your boyfriend is our chaperone,” William Beckett continued when Patrick refused to give a verbal response. The girl/boy (because Patrick didn’t feel like deeming him a boy anymore) had a smile on his face and was talking in a quiet tone as if it was some special little secret between the two of them.
“I guess he is,” Patrick answered, wincing when the bus hit yet another pothole. Was the driver trying to hit every damn one? He wouldn’t normally sit towards the back of the bus, he was more the front of the bus by the teacher type if he had to admit it, but he chose the back because Pete had to sit near the front with the other chaperones and despite his like for Pete he wanted some distance. He didn’t think Pete would understand the logic of not making out or groping when Patrick’s teachers are around and can see. “What’s it to…” Patrick started to retort to William’s non response, but when he looked over William was no longer leaning across the aisle but instead looking rather comfy next to his own boyfriend Gabe Saporta who had taken to trying to suck William’s face off.
“Oh get a room,” Patrick said snidely.
“I would really like to,” Gabe answered, tugging Bill closer into his arms so that he was practically in Gabe’s arms except for his legs which were sprawled across the seat and into the aisle. Fuck long legged freaks. William chuckled briefly but that was fast cut off as Gabe pressed his lips to Bill’s again.
Fuck couples too.
------------------------------
“No Pete,” Patrick said, a stale line, inwardly cursing his teacher for thinking that pairing everyone off was actually a good idea. It was clearly not a good idea, especially since there were an odd number of people attending the field trip. He thought that teachers had to be licensed in order to get a job; did they never get tested on their basic math skills? But that was all peachy keen because of course Pete had offered to be Patrick’s partner, keep an eye on the ‘little guy’, make sure he stays out of trouble. With Pete’s bright smile and kind nature, the teacher was too easily convinced. It Patrick was the principal of his school, he wouldn’t be so lenient with the hiring process. Being able to do simple division would be a requirement, as well as being able to say no to charming pervy college boys. Which means maybe that by Patrick’s own standards he himself might not be able to make the cut.
“C’mooon,” Pete whined, his nose pressed against Patrick’s skin, pressed into the crook of his neck.
“No.”
The argument had gotten old, it was one repeated over and over again in many different situations and although it rarely ended well for Patrick --Pete was one hell of a persistent idiot-- he kept on trying. A fact which only got harder when Pete started kissing along his neck. Patrick groaned as he pulled away, “You can’t just go around doing that, we’re in a museum.”
Pete simply stared. “So?”, and he obviously did not understand. There was no getting through his thick head.
“Look Pete, the Tsavo lions,” Patrick changed tactics quickly, pointing in the distance and walking towards the two stuffed lions that were safely locked up behind glass which was a big plus in Pat’s mind because behind glass meant Pete could not touch. They had gone through that issue once already in the Evolving Planet exhibit where Pete had ignored the do not touch signs because ‘Ooh look Pattycakes it’s a Stegosaurus!’ and it had been super embarrassing when one of the employees had come up to them and given them both a stern warning about putting fingers where they’re not supposed to be --and oh god, why would anyone say that to Pete, it only makes his eyebrows waggle so hard that you’d swear they were about to launch right off the top of his forehead, but at least he didn’t say any variation of ‘that’s what she/he said’. The employee watched them until they left the exhibit, totally giving them the evil eye which Pat didn’t think was fair because he didn’t even do anything, and wasn’t Pete supposed to be the mature responsible in charge one? Not that he thought that would actually happen, but it would be nice for once.
Pete followed, looking with wide eyes at the lions as Patrick read the inscription on the plaque beside it which described the tragic story. “Those things ate people?” Pete asked, and Patrick wondered if he had even been listening to Pat talk. “That’s wicked cool.”
Pete leaned closer as Patrick whipped out his homework sheet that he’d been given prior to their entry into the museum. It contained a list of questions that he needed to find the answers to by wandering through the museum, and Patrick recalled from his glance through it earlier that he’d seen something about the Tsavo lions. Maybe he could get something accomplished with Pete around after all.
------------------------------
Speaking too soon is bad to do.
“Trick. Trick, are you done yet?”
Patrick wandered along the edge of the wall, pausing every few steps to read the note below each picture in the civil rights exhibit made up solely of pictures from the era. It was not a permanent exhibit, and Patrick had always been somewhat of a geek and he actually liked history class. Plus it was one of the questions on the worksheet.
“Triiiiiiick,” Pete grumbled loudly from his spot lying on the floor in the middle of the room. He didn’t find pictures very interesting to look at. He thought Pat’s ass was nice to look at, but that wasn’t going anywhere as Patrick had stopped listening to that over fifteen minutes ago and my god, how many stupid pictures were they going to have to look at? There was a reason Pete never did well in high school. Sports and music, those he could do. Academics not so much. He was all for civil rights, believe you me, go Martin Luther King Jr. and whatnot, but this was not how he expected the day going. Not at all.
Pete pressed his nose into the carpeted floor and inhaled slowly, wondering if he just didn’t move if Patrick would think he was dead or something and rush to his side. Maybe give him CPR. That could be pleasant, even if it would inevitably lead to him being hit afterwards. He could withstand a little pain for some tongue action.
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Sipping diet coke through a straw, Patrick watched out of the corner of his eye as Pete inhaled a big Mac. His stomach grumbled slightly, but he ignored it. Unlike Pete he was unable to eat the entire menu at McDonald’s without there being some unfortunate weight gain consequences.
“We totally need to go see the mummies,” Pete said through the chewed up bits of burger in his mouth. “Can you imagine being mummified? They take out all your guts. And your brain with a hook through your nose.”
Patrick was filled with a mixture of disgust and a small bit of pride. He didn’t really want to hear while any of that while eating --picking half heartedly at a wilted McDonald’s salad, but still-- yet he was sort of proud that Pete even remembered any of that. Now if only he could retain any of the non repulsive history facts. “Thanks a ton, I can’t eat now,” Patrick wrinkled his nose, pushing his barely touched salad away.
Pete nodded, stuffing a last handful of fries into his mouth before getting up and tossing the trash into a garbage can. “Don’t forget Rexy!”
Grumbling, Patrick stood as well, grabbing the bright red wax T-Rex that Pete had gotten from the moldarama machine that had been in the corridor leading to the McDonald’s in the museum. Patrick had tried to steer Pete away from the machines, but it proved impossible.
“You can’t hold Rexy like that!” Pete whined, taking the small toy which had thankfully cooled down since its creation. The hot wax had almost burned Patrick’s fingertips when he tried to recover it from the bin, and Pete had insisted on kissing them better. Cradling the dinosaur in his hands, Pete smiled, “It’s our baby.”
Patrick only grumbled in response. He had wanted the green Apatosaurus, but Pete had put up a huge fuss about how there was no such thing as the Apatosaurus, it was the Brontosaurus, and Patrick knew if he was allowed to continue Pete would only start pouting about how people ruin everything and how Pluto was no longer a planet, and so Patrick just gave in.
That’s how things usually went.
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It took twenty minutes for Patrick and Pete to properly find their way into the ancient Egypt exhibit. Of course it would’ve taken a lot less time if Pete had just let Patrick lead the way because although it was dorky even to think it Patrick sort of felt at home in a museum, he liked the smell really, and he knew his way around. He also knew how to read signs, something that Pete failed at miserably, and they stood there squabbling for a full seven minutes about which way to go. Pat wanted to head up the stairs and enter through the pyramid like they were supposed to, and Pete wanted to enter from the bottom floor. It was closer, Pete had argued, but it was through the end of the exhibit and you’re not supposed to begin at the end, even if it is where the mummies are and even if the mummies might be the coolest part of all. Patrick wanted to see it all.
Pete broke into a run as soon as they descended the pyramid staircase which led to the actual real life mummies, darting away from Pat’s side so fast that he didn’t even notice Patrick shiver as he looked around. “Mummies can’t hurt you.” Patrick told himself quietly, feeling pathetic but it wasn’t his fault that Pete had decided to watch a horror flick staring none other than a dead wrapped up old Egyptian in preparation for their big trip. Patrick wasn’t usually so susceptible to folk lore, but the place was darkly lit in order to preserve the integrity of the items on display, and so it was creepy to begin with. Not somewhere Patrick would want to be after closing. “Dead things can’t hurt anyone.”
“Actually, that’s not exactly true.”
Patrick turned as he heard a familiar voice correct him from behind. He wasn’t too surprised to see Ryan Ross standing there, peering past the glass at a small mummy of a child who looked way too small to be normal as far as Patrick was concerned.
“Don’t you think there’s a grain of truth in the mummy’s curse?” Ryan added, finally flicking his eyes over to Patrick. Patrick wouldn’t have thought Ryan the morbid type; in fact Ryan had always seemed sensible, appealing to logic rather than myths.
Patrick opened his mouth to ask where Brendon was --because there was no chance Ryan had managed to escape that boy and get alone time, not after the show Brendon had made of picking Ryan to be his museum buddy, going on and on about how much fun they were going to have and how he’d never let Ryan get lost while Ryan bemoaned his fate as if he didn’t secretly like the attention-- but as arms wrapped around his torso and a voice chirps in his ear “HI PATRICK!” he knew he’d been beaten to the punch.
“Hey Brendon,” Patrick winced, raising his hand to the ear Brendon had just practically yelled into, but by the time he answered Brendon had pulled away and was turned back towards Pete who had come out of nowhere, also not surprising to Patrick since Pete and Brendon tend to find each other at times that Patrick judges inopportune, and that would be right about now because they’re both loudly shooting their mouths off about something that doesn’t matter to anyone but them.
“I’m telling you, T -Rex is the coolest animal here.” Pete says, dead serious, he believes in what he’s saying and he can get over zealous about these things.
“You’re wrong. Ryan, tell him he’s wrong.” Brendon says, jutting out his bottom lip in a way that he shouldn’t be capable of doing because he’s a boy and not a girl, but either way Ryan is back to looking at the artifacts and isn’t listening --or if he is listening he’s doing a damn good job of appearing like he isn’t, which makes Patrick wonder if Ryan could teach him how to do that one day. It would be a good skill to have considering how difficult it can be to say no when Brendon turns his puppy dog pout on you. Patrick doesn’t want to have to deal with that, he already struggles when it comes to Pete.
“No way is a narwhal cooler than a T-Rex.”
“It is too! It’s a whale and unicorn remix and there’s nothing cooler than that. Unicorn!”
Patrick idly wondered who thought it was a good idea to let Brendon get anywhere near the stuffed narwhals. Brendon has a unicorn kink or something. Patrick tries not to ask questions. Instead, he chooses to follow Ryan as the boy walks away from the argument.
It took five more minutes for Brendon and Pete to come up to them with matching stupid smiles. Rexy was being held by Brendon who is treating the wax mold as if it were one of the most precious things in existence, which meant they must have made up. Patrick would’ve asked the outcome of their argument if he cared more and trusted the question to not rekindle their debate.
“Brendon agreed to watch Rexy while we get some alone time,” Pete stated, winking because he’s obviously implying something when he says alone time. Pete Wentz never means quiet relaxation when he says alone time. Everyone knew that.
“I’ll treat him like he’s my own,” Brendon nodded along with Pete as Pete grabbed Patrick’s arm and started dragging him off before Patrick can pull away or begin to complain.
As Patrick was tugged away, he swore he heard Brendon in the background asking Ryan why they can’t have a baby too. No doubt Patrick will be hearing an earful from Ryan later.
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“We’ve only got an hour left,” Pete said, pulling Patrick around the corner, barely looking both way to make sure no one was watching before pressing his lips against Patrick’s who’s only response was to pull away, his back hitting a wall.
“No.”
“No one’s here,” Pete tried to throw Patrick’s inhibitions aside, kissing along Patrick’s jaw, sliding his hand to the back of Patrick’s neck, tilting Patrick’s head up, moving close enough that Patrick became acutely aware of just how much body heat Pete was letting off. But it was wrong, and Patrick knew that. Patrick was far from an exhibitionist and it didn’t matter to him if his boyfriend didn’t mind an audience because Patrick most certainly did.
“I said no,” Patrick said, his voice faltering as Pete palmed the front of Patrick’s pants. Sure Patrick didn’t wear skin tight pants like Pete did, but they weren’t baggy enough to hide the kind of issue he’d get if Pete kept that up. Pete knew that and wasn’t about to hold back.
“No one’s going to come this way,” Pete whispered roughly, nipping at Patrick’s ear, not giving up, too stubborn for Patrick’s own good. When Patrick didn’t push him away he moved his parted lips down to Patrick’s neck, pushing his hips against Patrick’s, being very obvious about what he’d rather be doing.
Patrick’s mind was gone by the time Pete’s hand managed to find its way down the front of Patrick’s pants, groping through his boxers, and Patrick kept thinking that there was no way that Pete was wearing boxers under those girly excuse for skinny jeans, and that thought was sort of hot. Already half hard and flushed, Patrick accidentally let a whiny groan bubble up from his throat, a sure sign that Pete was getting his way. Pete pulled his mouth away from Pat’s neck, smirking like he’d just won the World Series or something. Before Patrick could clear the fog in his head, Pete was unzipping Patrick’s pants. It took every ounce of effort for Patrick to grip Pete’s wrist, “Not here, we’ll get caught.”
By the time Pete had located and yanked Patrick into the nearest bathroom, Patrick was too far gone to bother complaining about the circumstances. Thoughts of how many germs there must be even on the walls of the cramped bathroom stalls and god how gross were pushed back in favor of yes, yes, please as Pete sank to his knees and took Patrick’s cock into his mouth, flicking his tongue across the head. Pete’s fingers --very lovely fingers even if Pete bites his nails to the quick and traces over them with black Sharpie which wears down to his cuticles-- wrap around what he can’t fit into his mouth, his head bobbing in a messy tempo, the older boy distracted by the tent he’s pitching in his own pants, but he’s not going to ask Pat for too much, not gonna push, not unless Pat asks for it.
“Pete,” Patrick breaths, “Pete, I need… Pete.” And the blowjob is nice, way better than nice actually though Patrick’s not going to force his brain into thesaurus mode, but he wants more, and as Pete pulls away, not even bothering to try to lessen the tawdry wet noise as Patrick’s now slick cock slides out of his mouth, Patrick knows Pete understands perfectly. It works well like that, Pete reading Patrick’s mind even when Patrick wished he wouldn’t. It means that some things Patrick doesn’t have to say out loud, Pete doesn’t need him to.
Steadying himself with his palms against the stall door, Patrick gasps as Pete pushes in, one arm protectively around Patrick’s waist. “It hurt?” Patrick was a good boy, he was, he didn’t usually do things like this even if Pete was the type. Usually they had time and a comfy bed with a warm comforter and clean sheets, yet in the heat of the moment being fucked from behind in a bathroom stall was just as hot, maybe more so.
Patrick shook his head, giving Pete permission to keep moving, keep thrusting, “S’good.”
Pete’s hand gripped Patrick’s cock once more, stroking roughly as his thrusts fell out of rhythm. Patrick struggled to remain quiet, moving one of his hands to cover his mouth, semi conscious of the fact that they were still in public. Pete however had to be contrary as always, and Patrick’s name mixed up with a moan fell from Pete’s lips as he came not too long after he stroked Patrick to his own climax.
Breathing heavier, Pete rested his head on Patrick’s shoulder like he always did, waiting for the person two stalls down to flush, wash his hands, and then leave before pulling out of Patrick and pulling up his pants. “Love you, Tricky,” Pete said, his voice sounding huskier.
“Of course you do, fucker,” Patrick was blushing already and Pete laughed because he knew that Pat was really saying I love you too.
“You know it.”
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A quick wash off in the bathroom sink and fifteen minutes later, Pete and Patrick ambled up to the gathering crowd, the teacher standing at the forefront and marking names off on a list. Patrick rubbed the back of his neck, trying to will away the sense of nervousness he felt, wondering if anyone could tell what him and Pete had been doing in the men’s bathroom. He had tried to smooth over his clothes as best as possible, but Pete was still rocking the just fucked look. Tutting quietly, Patrick ran his fingers through Pete’s hair, mumbling to himself about how he didn’t know why he ever took Pete anywhere, but Pete only grinned in return.
“Don’t look so guilty,” Patrick hissed.
“Guilty of what? I’m not feeling guilty.” Pete answered, looking over across the great hall at the dinosaur skeleton they had on display, “How much trouble do you think I’d get into if I tried to climb up Sue?”
Gabe and William joined the group before Patrick had the chance to berate Pete’s immaturity for the fifty millionth time. Gabe looped an arm around William’s waist, carding his fingers through William’s long hair, comforting the boy as William spoke in a quiet distressed voice about how he hoped the bunny in the taxidermy exhibit wasn’t killed.
“I’m sure he died a natural death after living a long happy bunny life,” Gabe nodded, sure of himself which appeared to appease William.
Patrick felt like he was surrounded by idiots.
“Patrick!” Brendon yelled as he barreled towards the others, holding out Rexy, “See, I did a good job, I didn’t let anything bad happen to Rexy. Me and Ryan showed him all the cool exhibits. I even got Ryan to hold him for a while, and Ryan did such a goo--“ Brendon gasped, effectively ending his rant for the moment, “Patrick, is that a hickey?!”
Patrick froze, instantly becoming pale as his hand flew to his neck, “PETE!”
Pete just laughed.