One Hundred Sleepless Nights
Night One ~ The Darkest of Nights
Pete's head hurt. The TV was giving him a headache, even though it was practically muted and he wasn't even looking at the screen. He rolled around miserably in the cocoon of blankets on Patrick's couch. He was too hot, and his medication hadn't been working the past couple of nights. He could get up and go to the bedroom, but he didn't want to wake Patrick with his insomnia restlessness. He reached over to get the glass of water from the table, but a wave of nausea hit him, leaving him gagging into the trash can Patrick had. strategically placed beside the couch.
Almost an hour passes, and Pete is still awake. His body aches and his mind is dizzy from over-exhaustion. Pete feels like death warmed over, and is close to tears when he feels a hand on his back.
"Pete?" Patrick's voice comes out soft and low, a hint of sleep somewhere mixed in it.
Pete makes a noise that sounds like something died in his throat, and looks up. Patrick is staring at him, wearing only his boxer shorts and a fedora. His fingers run through Pete's greasy hair as he leans down to press a kiss to Pete's cheek.
"Come on."
It takes a lot of effort to get Pete from the couch to the bed without letting him fall on his face or vomit everywhere. But eventually, Patrick sets Pete on the edge of the bed and after making sure he won't fall off, Patrick disappears into the bathroom. Pete is tired enough to the point where he's not sure what Patrick is doing, but luckily he trusts the younger man enough to know he's safe. Patrick manages to get Pete's clothes off, and gently scrubs the smudged eyeliner off his face. He tucks the older one in, setting his hat on the beside table and snuggling in behind him.
"Patrick... 'Trick, I can't sleep."
"Yes you can," Patrick whispers, massaging the tension out of Pete's shoulders. "Close your eyes, relax."
Pete was about to argue, but then he felt the soft brush of lips against the back of his neck, instantly shutting him up. Patrick's hands come around to touch his bare chest, tracing the tattoos. His shoulder becomes a pillow for the younger boy, and a smile reaches his lips. Another kiss meets his cheek, and he hears Patrick say something along the lines of, "Sleep, Pete."
And he does.
Almost an hour passes, and Pete is still awake. His body aches and his mind is dizzy from over-exhaustion. Pete feels like death warmed over, and is close to tears when he feels a hand on his back.
"Pete?" Patrick's voice comes out soft and low, a hint of sleep somewhere mixed in it.
Pete makes a noise that sounds like something died in his throat, and looks up. Patrick is staring at him, wearing only his boxer shorts and a fedora. His fingers run through Pete's greasy hair as he leans down to press a kiss to Pete's cheek.
"Come on."
It takes a lot of effort to get Pete from the couch to the bed without letting him fall on his face or vomit everywhere. But eventually, Patrick sets Pete on the edge of the bed and after making sure he won't fall off, Patrick disappears into the bathroom. Pete is tired enough to the point where he's not sure what Patrick is doing, but luckily he trusts the younger man enough to know he's safe. Patrick manages to get Pete's clothes off, and gently scrubs the smudged eyeliner off his face. He tucks the older one in, setting his hat on the beside table and snuggling in behind him.
"Patrick... 'Trick, I can't sleep."
"Yes you can," Patrick whispers, massaging the tension out of Pete's shoulders. "Close your eyes, relax."
Pete was about to argue, but then he felt the soft brush of lips against the back of his neck, instantly shutting him up. Patrick's hands come around to touch his bare chest, tracing the tattoos. His shoulder becomes a pillow for the younger boy, and a smile reaches his lips. Another kiss meets his cheek, and he hears Patrick say something along the lines of, "Sleep, Pete."
And he does.