Me & You

September 24th, 2014

"Wake up, we're flying to Chicago and getting married."

"What?" That had been the last thing that Patrick was expecting to hear upon waking. The familiar warm weight that was Pete shifted a little on top of him as he wriggles forward. "We're doing what?" Pete ignored the questions for a minute, lifting himself up slightly and delivering a soft kiss on Patrick's lips. Then, with a grin, he rolled off of Patrick and onto his own side of the bed.

"We're getting married." Pete had that characteristic sparkle in his dark caramel eyes. "In Chicago. On Saturday, but our plane leaves today, in four hours."

"It passed?" Patrick grinned and sat up, Pete following suit. They had proposed to each other when same-sex was legalized in California--but they'd promised, at the beginning, that they'd be married in Chicago. Their hometown.

"As of last night, same-sex marriages are recognized and can be performed in the state of Illinois." They kissed again, really savoring it. When they finally broke apart, Pete stood up. He was already mostly dressed and groomed.
"I'm going to go print our boarding passes," Pete said, slipping out of the room. Patrick rolled his eyes and stood up, yawning and stretching. He crossed the room to get something to wear, almost tripping over something that was lumpy and somewhat bricklike. Looking down, Patrick realized that it was Pete's already-packed suitcase. Then it hit him: they were going to Chicago to get married. Holy shit.

As soon as he got into airport-ready clothing, Patrick ran down the hall into the "technical office." The work computer, printer/scanner/copier thing, and every scrap of record label paperwork was hidden in that room. In there, Pete was leaning back in the rolling chair, eyes closed, waiting for the second boarding pass to print.

"I can't believe we're getting married," Patrick said, grabbing the freshly-printed boarding pass from the tray. He examined it for a moment or two.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA (LAX) to CHICAGO, ILLINOIS (O'HARE)
C38
STUMP, PATRICK

"We're getting married," Pete replied, almost an echo--just missing the hint of disbelief in his voice that Patrick's had. He looked a the plain silver band on his ring finger. Soon enough, he would have a more important ring. "Everything's planned. We just have to invite all of our friends and hope that they can get fast flights to Chicago."

"Andy's up there right now, last I heard from him." Patrick shrugged. He stepped closer to Pete. "And I see that you've packed already."

"You should. I think we should leave in about an hour and and a half, if you're ready then." Pete spun around in his chair, looking at Patrick with a typical hint of mischievousness.

"Then I'll start on that."

*

"So, are we going to buy proper attire when we get there?" Patrick asked, picking up his suitcase and pushing it into the trunk of the taxi that Pete had called. He walked around and sat down in the back seat, next to Pete. "Because, you know, someone forgot our only formal clothing in the dryer at some motel in Denver." He shot an accusatory glare at Pete. "And, of course, no-one noticed until we were in Vegas."

"Lay off the glare," Pete semiwhined. "And yes, we have to. I mean, we can't just get married in a t-shirt and jeans." Patrick rolled his eyes and looked away. Pete laid his head on Patrick's shoulder, eyes closed. Of course, Patrick couldn't help but try to wrap an arm around Pete's waist. Considering the fact that they were in a cramped taxi with seatbelts, that proved to be pretty difficult. He managed, however, kissing the top of Pete's head.

They didn't talk much for the 45-minute drive. Short, muttered conversations about music or the weather. When they arrived at the airport, Patrick paid the taxi driver while Pete grabbed their suitcases and carry-on. With a quick, silence glance at each other, they started into the airport.

Patrick thanked some sort of a higher power that their flight was on a completely unremarkable Wednesday. The only people who would be at the airport would be businessmen, and even that was unlikely, given the time of departure. There would be no unwanted interference made because of them, there wouldn't be a scene over their little trip together. And, for once, everything was working out perfectly fine. The only "drama" made about their presence was one guard looking at their boarding passes, then at Pete. "The Pete Wentz?" he'd asked, a little awed.

They spent the remaining hour and a half before boarding by looking at every shop in a small corner of the airport that was closest to their waiting area. Being Los Angeles, the airport somewhat resembled a mall and the time passed with some degree of speed. About thirty minutes before when boarding was supposed to begin, they headed back to the waiting room. For a random Wednesday afternoon in late September, the area was surprisingly full. Patrick and Pete had trouble finding two open seats that were next to each other. They held hands and whispered to each other about every other airplane they had ever been on.

"I think we've been here before," Patrick murmured. "Isn't this where we almost sent the airport into a panic?"

"The lighter in the bathroom stall, right?" Pete asked, moving some hair out of Patrick's eyes. "I think you're right."

He laughed. "I wonder if the scorch mark is still there."

"We could check." Pete's voice was a stage whisper and his were alight with mischief. He was just about to start when a woman stepped up to the podium to their left and picked up a microphone.

"Will people with A-level tickets please get in line for boarding," she announced over the PA, donning a fake smile and watching the line. Pete leaned back and sighed, staring at the ceiling.

"C tickets," he said, "we won't get in for a while."

Patrick smiled at him and squeezed his hand. "It's alright. As long as there's two seats left together."

"I want window seat."

The A-level tickets shuffled into the plane, followed by the lining up of B-level tickets. They filed in and Pete and Patrick took their places near the end of the line as C-level tickets lined up for boarding.

And then they were on the plane. The only two free seats were near the back, by the bathroom--but Pete did get the window seat. They complied with every rule presented to them, having been through the process well over a hundred times before. Then, finally, they took off for Chicago.

Five hours, give or take, uninterrupted.

*

The flight felt like it took less time than it did--Patrick suspected that it was because he and Pete had slept through most of it. Flights were still a routine, as was sleeping on them. Of course, that didn't mean that they weren't tired when they got to their hotel room at 9:30 PM (7:30 to their jetlagged minds).

"Room service?" Patrick asked, watching as Pete practically crashed on the bed. He already had the phone off of the receiver by the time that he got an answer.

"Please?"

Dinner was unremarkable; a couple of hotel-quality salads, nothing new. They sat on the bed, talking, planning. "We'll have to call everyone tomorrow," Patrick mused, smiling. Last minute marriage plans.

"Half of them already know," Pete admitted. "Most of the people that we'd invite texted me as soon as the news hit." He shook hair out of his face. "It just needs to be formal."

"Is tomorrow the formal day? Formal clothes, formal invitations..." Patrick's smile became a grin. "How much of the wedding have you planned, anyway?"

"I've got friends doing that."

"You mean Andy?"

Pete laughed, almost falling off the bed. "Maybe."

They left their plates out by the door, to be picked up by room service as well. Then began their nightly routine--or something that resembled it. Generally, they stayed up long after getting ready to go to bed. The clock read 11:04 but they felt 9:04, but it had been a very, very long day.

"It's not fair that you're so tired," Pete whispered once they were laying down next to each other. "I was up till four and I woke up at nine, just for this."

"I love you," Patrick whispered back, moving closer to Pete.

He kissed Patrick on the lips, a quick, soft, and chaste kiss. "Love you, too."

*

September 25th, 2014

"How does it look on me?" Patrick asked, stepping out of the dressing room and looking at his reflection in the mirror. He straightened the bowtie a little.

"The coattails do suit you," Pete whispered, giving Patrick's ass a quick squeeze. Patrick tried to smack Pete's hand away, but he was too fast. "But I'm not sure if the whole suit thing is right for you..."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "But what else could I wear?"

"Oh, you know." Pete walked off into the rows of hanging clothing, disappearing behind a tall shelf. He was back two minutes later, carrying something that he hoped would fit Patrick.

"A dress," he said, in total disbelief.

It wasn't just a dress--it was a full-out wedding gown. In its design, it looked sort of like a stereotypical princess' gown--only with a slightly higher neckline and in pearly white. Lace hung on the edges of the bodice, draping over the shiny, stiff upper layer of the skirt. The sleeves looked like they would hang on the right place, just under the shoulder, to look a little sexy but not tacky. Lace lined the edges of the sleeves, too, as well as the neckline.

"You'd look great in it," Pete replied, already trying to convince Patrick to wear it. Even if not for the wedding.

"There is no way in hell I'm wearing that to our wedding." Typical response.

"Just try it on," he begged, putting on the Look. "Please, Patrick? For me?"

"I've worn too much crazy shit just because you gave me that look." He sighed, examining the dress. "And what makes you think I'd even fit in that?"

Pete shrugged. "It looks about right for you, wouldn't you think?" He grinned and held it a little closer to Patrick's face. "Just for a moment? So I can admire you wearing a dress?"

"You're acting like you've never seen me in a dress before."

"Not a wedding gown, though." Pete continued giving Patrick the Look.

"Fuck you," he said, grabbing the dress and stepping into the dressing room again. Pete cheered a little and waited, leaning against the wall that the mirror was on.

As he zipped the dress up the back, Patrick thought that he'd had far too much practice at putting on dresses. He adjusted the sleeves and straightened some of the lace on the bodice. Pete was right--it did fit Patrick. He paced the dressing room stall for a moment, trying to get it to adjust to his body. Again--too much practice with wearing dresses. Too many strange music video concepts that depicted the band as fairy princesses. With a soft sigh, he slid the lock open and stepped out into the main part of the dressing room. "Ta-da," Patrick said, flatly.

Pete's eyes sparkled as he smiled, looking Patrick up and down and trying to hold back a laugh. He crossed the hall and kissed him softly on the lips. "You look gorgeous." He couldn't help but add a snicker onto the end of that.

"Can I take it off now?" He really wasn't in the mood for Pete's jokes, not then. "I think that tux I was just wearing works..." Patrick trailed off, trying to figure out a way to get Pete off of him so he could change.

"Pose with me?" Pete asked, going for the Look again.

"You have someone taking pictures in there, don't you?"

"Nope," said Pete, sounding like he really meant yes. And by yes, he meant Andy--who was supposed to be waiting in the front room. Knowing Pete, Andy had been dragged into one of his many elaborate schemes.

"As long as no-one else sees it," Patrick said, giving Pete a look that said something like "if this gets as well known as your nudes, then you're very dead." The only look hee got in response was one of innocence.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

Pete smiled. "Nothing!" Before Patrick realized what he was doing, Pete had swept him off his feet--literally. He was struggling to hold up his fiancé. Patrick wrapped an arm around Pete's neck as he was picked up, being held bridal style. Eventually, they managed to get balanced. Pete turned them toward the mirror, the bottom of Patrick's dress swishing a little. He grinned at the mirror.

Despite himself and his earlier reservations, Patrick, too, was smiling. It was fun to be there, held by the man he loved, even if he was wearing a dress. He laughed and pulled himself back, almost straining his neck as he tried to kiss Pete on the cheek. There was a bright flash out of the corner of his eye--right around where the mirror was--and he broke the contact to see its source. Of course, just as he had predicted, Andy stood there with an old camera.

"You bastard," Patrick said, and he wasn't sure if it was directed toward Andy or Pete. Probably Pete.

About ten difficult minutes later, Patrick was back in the clothing he'd come in and holding the matching tuxedos that he and Pete had decided to buy. They left the dress hanging on the hook in the dressing room--whoever did the dressing room rounds that night would probably end up confused as to why a very feminine wedding gown was hanging in the men's room. The thought made both of them laugh. They bought their formal clothing and piled into Andy's car, preparing to go back to the hotel and send out a mass email to all of their friends.

"Thanks for the lift," Pete said as he got out of the car. Andy nodded and passed the camera to him, eliciting a snicker from Pete and a sigh from Patrick.

"That was certainly eventful," said Patrick as they walked through the front doors of the hotel, cool air grazing their faces. Pete wrapped an arm around Patrick's waist and smiled ahead of them as a reply. He leaned back on the wall of the elevator as they went up three floors, heading to their room. Patrick dropped the bag of formal clothing on the table and sat down next to Pete on the bed, looking at his laptop over his shoulder.

He'd pulled up his email and started the invitation, using one of the formats that a friend had sent them. Email formats really were a nice feature to have. Fonts, generic images, and information--all at the touch of a button. His fingers flew across the keys, typing out a repeat of what he'd planned two nights before. Sometimes he had to go between email tabs and look at the exactly details, but it was pretty simple. Patrick proofread, as usual, and by the end of the email, they were kissing between lines typed.

"I can't wait."

*

September 27th, 2014

In the hours leading up to the actual wedding, neither of them could do anything but pace around their respective dressing rooms. They'd made a (very superstitious) pact not to see each other from the time they got out of the car till the actual ceremony. Of course, it was September 27th--so that morning had been a small, teary-eyed ritual that neither wanted to think much about.

About an hour before the official start of the wedding, they could hear people entering the building and talking. A blend of familiar voices met their ears. They both stood in front of their respective mirrors--unaware that the other was mimicking them--and stared for a few minutes, trying to overcome nerves. There wasn't much to be nervous about, really. Maybe it was more excitement that felt like nerves from pressure. Whatever it was that was going on in their heads, it was being felt by both of them.

They were going to get married. The mere thought put a smile on both of their faces, it made them bristle with even more nervous energy than before. All of their fantasies were about to become a reality, and now they had no excuse to ever leave each other's side.

*

So many of their friends were there that it more than made up for the friends who weren't.
It was a quiet, simple thing--it was hard to keep quiet and simple, however, with the sheer number of people in one small area.

As Pete walked out, he surveyed the crowd, picking everyone out. Immediately obvious to him--as they were right in front of him--were Brendon and Ryan, who sat next to each other with their hands clasped between them. Their daughter was in Brendon's lap. A row behind them was Gabe, sitting alone--for once. Joe, Spencer, Haley, Alicia, Mikey, Ray, Christa, Hayley, Billie Joe, Adrienne, Andy, Jon, Cassie--familiar faces surrounded him, and Pete was convinced that nothing could be better than marrying the perfect man, one of the few constants in his life, and being surrounded by friends.

*

They were staring at each other with that look already, even before they got to the I dos. There was a smile pulling at the corners of Patrick's lips, and Pete was smiling--even if it was a small one.
"You may now kiss your husband."
Neither of them were sure who leaned in first, it felt like a simultaneous collision. Eyes closed and hands hovered on waists and shoulders. They pulled each other close, leaning up or down a little to make up for the slight different in height, and they tilted their heads to better kiss. They had never felt so close, even after an on and off ten years of being together.

Tears clung to their eyelashes and rolled down their cheeks as they pressed closer together. It was soft, simple and strong. It was warm where they stood in each other's embrace. The formal clothing had been a little stifling earlier, but in those moments, it felt like air between them.

*

It was Brendon who sang the song that began any dancing. Ryan, Jon and Spencer had been recruited to to play the instrumental. Though they had mended their friendships two years before, they hadn't played as a band in 5 years. It was awkward on stage until the music started.

"Take me out tonight," sang Brendon, warm and clear to the crowd of friends and family, "where there's music and there's people and who are young and alive..."

The song had been Pete's specific request--it was one of his favorites, and he'd always had a special connection to the Smiths' music. Who was Patrick to deny him that? Besides, he had a particular love of the song, and he'd almost suggested it when Pete did.
The original four members of Panic! had been the obvious choice for the artists to cover it. All four of them were good friends of Pete and Patrick's--especially Brendon and Ryan. They were excited to hear the plan, too.

"And if a double decker bus crashes into us," Patrick sang along softly to the chorus, "to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die." Pete smiled.

Panic!--or not quite--played another two songs before turning the stage to Gerard, Ray, Mikey, Frank and Bob--who had once been My Chemical Romance together. They played two songs, as did the bands that came after them. Friends walked off and on the stage.

Pete and Patrick sneaked outside to have a minute of fresh air when Cobra Starship--who had been the closing band--finished their mini-set. They were the only ones outside, and they leaned against Andy's car and kissed for a long time. It was tender, but deeper than the one earlier.

By the time they were back in the thick of things, people were already getting drunk. Most were dancing, though some couples were hiding in the darkest corners of the rooms, stealing kisses.

"Hey," said Brendon, tapping Patrick on the shoulder. "We're heading home early."

"Ally's not digging the noise," Ryan added, patting the top of her head. Brendon smiled. "Congrats, guys."

"We told you that you'd be next." Hugs were exchanged and goodnights said as Brendon, Ryan, and Ally walked out.

*

"Have you seen Frank?" Jamia asked about an hour later. She was a little flushed, her dark hair hanging limp and sweaty in her face. The Ieros had been two of the first to congratulate Pete and Patrick. "I lost track of him half an hour ago--saw him talking to Gabe." She looked sheepish.

"He's probably outside smoking," Pete suggested.

"I could use some air," said Patrick. "We can check and see if he's out there?"

Jamia nodded. "We just need to leave soon. Our flight's at five." This prompted Patrick to check his watch, surprised to see that it was already twelve. He nodded. "Speaking of that, I should remind Linds that their big flight is tomorrow morning." She walked back into the crowd, pulling out her phone.

"Frank and Gabe talking," Pete chuckled. "Wonder what they would be about?"

"He caught the bouquet," he commented, squeezing Pete's hand. "Did you notice?"

"No, because you're more observant than I am." He felt like there should have been a laugh there, but he also felt like that would be entirely inappropriate. "But I thought that they'd be next, after us."

Patrick was about to answer him when the smell of spray paint hit him. He wrinkled his nose and tried to find the source of the smell. "Looks like we've found him," he muttered, leading Pete to Andy's car.

As they approached, the sound of raucous laughter hit their ears--familiar raucous laughter. Walking around to the back of Andy's car, they saw Gabe and Frank sitting on the ground with two discarded cans of spray paint rolling away from them. Looking above them, at the back window of the car, Pete saw what they'd done. He tugged on Patrick's sleeve and showed him the "JUST MARRIED" that was scrawled across the glass.

"Andy's gonna fucking kill you two," he said to Frank and Gabe. "And Jamia's looking for you, Frank."

"Shit," Frank mumbled, trying to stand. His long, dark hair stuck to his face and his neck. "See y' round, Gabe!"

"See ya," Gabe replied.

*

Andy was pissed. Very, very pissed. Fortunately for Frank, he had left before Andy found out what had happened. Being Andy, he managed to get a promise of money to get his car washed from Gabe--with plans to get a similar promise from Frank. He'd calmed, however, by the time everyone had to sort out how they were returning to their homes or hotels. That was a hassle.

Pete and Patrick ended up at their hotel last, as they had been two of very few designated drivers. Patrick ended up getting undressed first, Pete checking his mail and making a list of people who would get thank you notes. Nearly every message he'd received that day was a congratulation Though, there was one message... he paused and smiled as his husband walked out, wearing nothing but boxers.

Patrick smiled back. "Sending thank yous already?"

"Nah. Just checking my email." Pete stood and stretched, then kissed Patrick before heading to the bathroom to change and get ready for sleep. The kiss lingered on both of their lips.

Patrick started going through the motions of shutting down Pete's laptop before an email--the only one that had been opened--caught his eye. The sender was listed as William Beckett, and the subject line was "sorry." They'd had no contact for two years--what the hell?

"I am terribly sorry I had to miss your wedding, Pete," the message read. "Congrats! Send my regards and regrets to Patrick and m love to Gabe. -Bill"

After reading through it twice, Patrick closed out of the email and shut down. Too weird. Too, too weird to think about.

"Ready to consummate this marriage?" Pete asked with a seductive eyebrow wiggle as he walked into the main room. Patrick smiled faintly and nodded, the email going to the back of his mind as he felt the new ring on his finger.

"Whenever you are, Pete."

"I love you." Pete climbed into the bed, laying down next to Patrick, rubbing his arm in the way that made him shudder. They kissed with short breaths and long touches.

"Love you, too." They kissed again, the longest of the night.