You're Magic

We land and I'm tired and grumpy and I just want to go to sleep in Pete's fluffy bed. But now we're on the opposite side of the country and the closest fluffy bed is my own. Our flight lands at 7:30 AM and there really isn't anyone that stops and asks Pete for pictures, which is nice. The traffic isn't even that bad so we get a taxi to my apartment without incident. We sit in the backseat together, in a dreamlike haze. Here's Pete. With me. In the back of a yellow taxicab in New York City. We made it.

"This is where I live," I mumble, leading Pete into the foyer. "It's not like your house, but it'll do." I throw my suitcase by the stairs and sit on the bottom step.

Pete laughs and ruffles my hair before picking up my suitcase. I trudge up the stairs, Pete behind me. I face plant onto my white comforter, my nose buried into the fluffy down pillows. Pete pulls my sneakers off of my feet and wrestles me for the Stay Gold hoodie before he gets under the covers.

I snuggle under the white down comforter by his side and rest my head on his shoulder. Pete's arm is wrapped around me and my eyes are stinging. I start crying because now I see how much I want Pete here. "What's wrong, Baby Girl?" Pete asks quietly. The heat is turned on now and it has that weird dusty smell like the first time you use it for the winter.

"You don't know how bad I've wanted you here," I sigh. My voice is sad and desperate and maybe a little pathetic too. "Ugh. That sounds so... so stupid." I bury my face in Pete's armpit.

"Why is it stupid? I was thinking the same thing back in L.A." Pete's voice is tired and amused. "You just need more sleep. Are you working today?" I shake my head no. "Then we can sleep for a while and see what we're up for, is that all right?" I nod and Pete hugs me close to his side.

I can't believe Pete could keep something like coming with me to New York a secret. If I had known I wouldn't have spent all my time being mopey. It was a fucking great surprise, though. I don't know how Pete is going to like it here, which makes me a little nervous. I'm not sure how long he's staying, either. I don't want to think about him having to go, but I am. And I know I'll be sad when he leaves, but it's not like we'll never see each other again.

I wake up at 12:07 PM alone and stumble into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I look like jet-lagged Hell but I don't care enough to do anything. There's a big UPS box filled with clothes, which I'm assuming are Pete's, tossed on my bedroom floor. I slump into the living room and Pete's laying on the couch with a blanket. His laptop is perched on his legs and the TV is turned on to the news even though he isn't watching. I kiss his cheek before seeing he's on Tumblr.

He has four tabs open on Google Chrome: Tumblr, Twitter, SumbleUpon, and his Gmail.

"Whatcha workin' on?" I ask, pressing my lips just under his ear.

"Nothin'."

"You sleep any?" "

"Two hours."

"Okay. Do you want to grab some coffee?"

"Not really."

"All right. I'm going to hop in the shower."

"Have fun," Pete says, but his attention is already back on the computer. I want to throw it out the window. I sigh, annoyed, and stand, walking down the hall and upstairs to the bathroom.

I take a long time in the shower and I don't want to get out, but the hot water supply is dwindling and my stomach's growling is getting louder than the thrum of the water bouncing against the tile floor. I rinse the rest of the conditioner out of my hair before counting it high time I get something to eat.

When I get into the kitchen I realize all I have to eat is a half empty box of Cheerios, an expired Pop Tart, frozen strawberries, and coffee. I drink two cups of black coffee before calling out to Pete. "We need to go grocery shopping." I don't hear his reply if there's one at all, but I change into jeans and a sweater before throwing on my gray woven wool coat, red scarf, black knit cap, and gloves. I shove on my boots, do my make up and pick up my purse and keys from my dresser, hidden under Pete's sweatshirt, which I toss on the floor.

I stand before Pete in the living room, hands on my hips. Pete glances up at me, eyebrows raised. "I'm going to the store whether you like it or not and if you don't join me you run the risk of eating food you don't like for the remainder of your stay. So get your butt off the couch, asshole. We're going shopping." I take Pete's computer and shut it, placing it on the coffee table.

He glares up at me with smoldering, dark eyes before he gets up to climb upstairs, muttering under his breath about how he was in the middle of something and it's too cold and that he'd rather starve. I'm pretty sure I hear the word "bitch" too, but I don't say anything. He comes back in jeans, boots, the hoodie I threw on the floor, a hat, winter coat, and gloves.

I slink over to him, standing at the foot of the stairs. I press my lips to his neck before they travel to his mouth in a short, warm kiss. I smirk at him before whispering, "Glad you're dressed for the weather."

Pete makes grocery shopping miserable. He sulks like a six year old the entire time and I really let him have it in the frozen foods isle. "I don't know what your problem is, but you need to cut this crap and talk to me and stop complaining about everything. I don't know why you're here if I'm just going to yell at you. Famous or not you need to stop acting like a six year old. Now stop being an asshole and get some ice cream," I hiss, pointing towards the ice cream freezer.

People are looking at me funny and then looking at Pete. Pete pouts, his arms wrapping around my waist. He nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck and I feel bad. He doesn't say anything, which makes it even worse. He kisses my collar bone before sauntering over to pick up a tub of cookies and cream. After that he walks beside me with his hand on the small of my back. We don't talk except when I ask what kind of fabric softener smells better and he says Ocean Breeze and then I feel like I should've known he would say that.

In the check out line I flip through a magazine out of habit and there's a picture of Pete and me. "Jesus," I mutter, "I look awful." I put the magazine down and rub the palms of my hands on my jeans.

"I thought you looked wonderful," Pete says. "You always do." I smile up at him, sheepish. "And I love you very much," he sighs into my hair. This makes my heart flutter and my knees go weak and everything I love about Pete is magnified by ten thousand.

"I love you. More," I counter, holding his hand in mine. We leave and people take pictures and we ignore them. We go for coffee and no one at Starbucks stops Pete or anything, even though they look. "It's super annoying being in public with you," I tease, bumping my hip into his.

"Yeah? Try being me." He rolls his eyes, biting the rim of the cup's lid. "I wish I wasn't me."

"I like you, though."

"I don't like me sometimes."

'You should, though. I like you."

"Isn't that all that matters." It's a statement, not a question.

"Well, no. But, I'm just throwing it out there. I like you a lot." I smile before glancing down at our hands between us, swinging while we walk. I reach over and hold his hand in mine. He smiles too.

"I like you a lot, too."
..........
I put away groceries and Pete wanders around the apartment, picking up books and photos and DVD cases, anything really, inspecting them all with careful curiosity. "It's interesting," he tells me, sitting on the counter with my copy of The Perks of Being a Wallflower. "To see how you live and all the stuff you have. I dunno. It's new. I've always wondered..." He lets the thought trail off, hopping back to the floor, leaving the book on the counter. He hugs me. "I love you." The way he says it is quiet and affectionate and a little sad at the same time. "You know that right?"

"Of course I do, Peter. I've always known that."

"You know that I had to move on, right? Because I wouldn't have if I had known--"

"I know it, Pete. You can't always wait for a person. I get it." I murmur into his shoulder.

"Good. I just wanted to make sure." He nods once, kissing the top of my head. "I'm going to call Bronx and make sure he isn't wearing Patrick out yet."

"All right, Pete." I say, putting some fruit in a bowl on the counter.

Before he walks away, he pulls me into him from behind, pressing a kiss to the back of my neck, the side, my jaw, my cheek. I turn around and place a chaste kiss to his mouth. "I love you, Baby Girl." The way his whisper resonates makes me think of thick summer heat and sleepy secrets. I let go of him and he walks into the living room.

I continue to put food away and I hear Pete's Daddy Voice drift through the air. "Hi, buddy. You being good? That's good. Evie and I are having fun. We miss you. We love you very much. I'll be home in a few days before you see Mommy. Uh, Evie, she's," There's a catch in Pete's voice. "She'll be back soon, Baby Boy, don't worry."

I get all sad and I want to hug Pete and scoop him up and take care of him like a little puppy. I let him finish the conversation before I join him. "How is he?"

"He's good. Misses you." Pete rubs his eyes and lets out a sigh before flopping onto the couch. "Oh, Evelyn Marie, what am I going to do with you?" He smiles, looking up at me with a sad gleam in his eyes. It makes me hurt. I sit down beside him and hold his hand. It's all we do for a while. In a way it feels like it's all we can do.

"I love you." The words roll off my tongue and no matter how many times I say it, the importance of them doesn't change. And I think they're just what Pete needs to hear.

"I love you too, Evelyn Marie. I love you too."
........
That night we have ravioli for dinner and we run out to get a couple bottles of wine, hugging and kissing and putting on a show for the cameras as a sort of game to keep us occupied. We go home and watch some movie on Demand that I don't remember the name of. After the movie is over we watch Who's Line Is It Anyway? and admire their impromptu skill. At 1:07 Pete stands up and pulls me with him upstairs to my room coaxing me to take my clothes off, to which I tell him no and push him away in a fit of laughter. He even says please. Eventually I comply and Pete's happy that he won.

He always wins.

I wake up the next morning at 6:34 and struggle to find my phone on the bedside table in the darkness without having to disentangle myself from Pete. I manage to grasp my phone and pull it into my hand, calling my boss. I ask for a personal day and he says sure, as long as the following day I bring Pete in. I ask what he's talking about and he says don't pretend he hasn't seen Pete and me as the talk of the town. I start to make excuses about how Pete's publicist needs to know and whatnot and my supervisor says I bring him in or I don't get a personal day. I mutter a fine and hang up, snuggling back into Pete's side. He hasn't woken up and I'm thankful, he needs the sleep. I decide on telling him later. I kiss his neck and breathe in his burnt sugar smell, causing for him to stir a little, muttering something I don't understand and he cuddles closer to me. What he doesn't know now won't hurt him.

The next time I wake up it's 9:47. I let out a displeased groan and turn into Pete, my face buried in his collarbone. His arm wraps around my shoulders. "No work today?" His voice is low and husky and slow. It's sexy. I shake my head no, deciding I'll push back the news even later. I press my lips to where his neck and shoulder meet.

"Can we go out for breakfast?" I ask, looking up at him. Our legs are tangled together and one of his feet is running along my left shin.

"Of course we can!" He's smiling over at me. He presses his mouth to mine and we share a gentle kiss before he sits up. "Man, it's cold," he says, snuggling back into me. I pull away from him and I get out of bed to pick out an outfit. I try coaxing him out of bed but nothing works.
"C'mon, Big Boy," I call to Pete on my way to the bathroom. "Time to shower!"

I don't think I've ever seen Pete get out of bed faster.

We have breakfast at a little diner and Pete orders orange juice and chocolate chip pancakes. I have toast, eggs, and bacon, which Pete eats after a half hearted "Are you gonna eat that" and he swipes a piece. After breakfast we go to Magnolia Bakery and Pete picks out the treats he wants. Then Pete goes hunting for random little things he can buy and bring home.

We make our way to the closest Starbucks for Pete's caffeine fix and he kisses me senseless outside the door. There's people with cameras coming over and asking questions. Pete turns on his heel and pulls me inside.

I can't get over the thrill of being with Pete.

We go out for sushi that night and I tell Pete about coming to work with me tomorrow. All he says about it is "All right, whatever," and his lack of complaint almost worries me. When we get home he calls Bronx and talks to Patrick for a while. I stay in the study so I don't interfere. Around 11:30 Pete walks in when I'm hunched over working on a review of The Academy Is...'s new CD that I absolutely love.

Pete stands behind me and he places hot kisses down my neck, whispering a muffled "Come to bed," before I stand up. He has a playful gleam in his eyes as he pushes me back onto the desk with a fierce kiss. He's grinning like the devil as my fingers sift through his hair.

"What happened to coming to bed?" I wonder aloud, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, you're coming to bed," Pete grins, pulling me from the desk. I giggle and flail my limbs but, alas, he throws me over his shoulder and gets his way. Like always.