I Think You'd Better Leave

Pete was good at a lot of things. He was good at releasing all of his internal man pain into his lyrics. He was pretty good at annoying people. But, above all, Pete prided himself in his ability to get what he wanted. Mostly, he’d annoy the hell out of others until they gave into him, making talent number two possibly his most important. Like, when he was fifteen and he wanted a new bass. His parents refused to get him another one until his birthday because he still had a perfectly good one sitting in his room and he’d asked for all those concert tickets for Christmas. But Pete, being Pete, needed that bass at that specific moment, and so sat in his room, the door locked and barricaded, playing the heaviest songs he could be bothered to learn until his parents were begging him to stop. And, being the respectful, kind boy he was, Pete offered them an ultimatum. Either buy him a new bass, or accept that Pete was going to play into the early hours of the morning for the rest of his time living in the Wentz house. The next time he left his bedroom, a couple of days later, to go to the bathroom, there was a tall, triangular box sitting outside his door.
Four years on from that incident, Pete was still the same stubborn, somewhat spoiled boy he had been. He still lived with his parents and did… Nothing. Well, his band was just about starting to take off, so he had enough money to buy all the random shit he wanted, but somehow not enough to help with any expenses around the house. Not that his parents minded too much. They were just happy Pete wasn’t a drug addict.
So here he was, at nineteen, spending all of his time in music shops, either scouting for records or girls. Or guys, if he was honest. He wasn’t really that picky when it came to above the waist.
Pete flicked through the collection of Bowie records they had, proudly noting that they were all there, including the live recordings. Not that Pete didn’t already have all of them. But it was nice to know that, if he did want to buy them, he could. Pete shrugged and continued to walk around the small record store, hoping to find something that he didn’t have and wanted, or didn’t have and would just buy in hope that it would impress him.
“Are you looking for something?” A voice asked from beside him. Pete snapped his head up and looked to his right, expecting to see one of the three assistants at the shop. And he did. But what he wasn’t expecting was the guy he saw to be… That. He was, for lack of better word, adorable. He was round faced, with light pink cheeks and wide eyes that shone a blue green behind a pair of thick framed glasses. The boy was shorter than him, and slightly stockier than him as well, in a way that somehow suited him in ways that wouldn’t look good on anyone else. His hair was tucked under a green trucker cap, but Pete could see blonde strands peeking out of it. Pete was officially in love.
“Um… Are you okay?” The boy said again. He couldn’t be older than sixteen, not with that baby face. But Pete didn’t care. If he was going to be completely honest, he just wanted to see if that mouth was as sinful as it looked. He took a moment to remind himself that he was gay above the waist and turned to smile at the boy again.
“Yeah, I’m fine thanks. Just browsing.” Pete shrugged and watched as the boy turned to see what Pete had been looking at, watching hungrily as his lips (those devilishly pink lips) turned up in a smile.
“Well if you’re a Bowie fan you might like Iggy Pop…” He trailed off, flicking through the rows of vinyls. Pete was already a huge Iggy Pop fan, but he wasn’t going to tell the cute assistant that. He wasn’t passing off any opportunity to talk him. He had already decided he needed to taste this kid, to just have one kiss. Well, Pete wasn’t one for only one kiss, a full blown make out maybe. And then a record was being pushed into his hands, and Pete looked down to see ‘Lust for Life’. This was his favourite Iggy Pop album. At least this kid had good taste. Not that it really mattered, because Pete was just going to be kissing his lips, not listening to what came out of them.
“Awesome.” Pete grinned instead. “Thanks.” He followed the boy to the front counter, pulling out a few rumpled dollar bills to pay for the record that he now had two copies of.
“It’s alright. See you later.” The boy waved as Pete walked out of the shop again, a gleeful smile on his face as he all but skipped all the way home.
____
“Love, Pete? Really?” Joe raised an eyebrow at the older man, lounging on the sofa in his basement that evening. Joe was his go to guy whenever he was dealing with something like this, mostly because he didn’t try to talk Pete out of doing anything particularly stupid.
“Yes.” Pete replied stonily. “He’s perfect.”
“He?” Joe repeated, his eyebrows shooting even further up his forehead. “You don’t usually fall in love with the guys.”
“This one’s different.” Pete insisted. “He’s about your age, I think.” He added to the seventeen year old.
“Maybe I know him. What’s his name?” Joe asked curiously.
Pete faltered for just a moment. “I don’t know yet. Slow and steady, Trohman.”
“Right…” Joe drawled. “Is this what you call progress?” Pete rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders slightly. So maybe he was working a little slower than usual, i.e. he would already be in someone’s pants by now. But this one seemed like he was going to take a little work. Maybe another couple of days should do it, though. Pete did pride himself in his ability to get what he wanted. And right now, he wanted this kid, whatever his name was.
“Shut up, Joe.” Pete threw back, his thoughts drifting to the adorable shop assistant yet again.
____
“Hi.” Pete leaned against the counter at the music shop the next day, grinning as the assistant looked up from his copy of ‘Rolling Stone’.
“Hey.” He smiled back, setting his magazine down and standing straight. “How’d you like the album?”
“Dude, it was so freaking awesome.” Pete gushed truthfully. He did think the album was amazing, it just wasn’t down to currently unnamed shop assistant that Pete was developing an obsession over. Today he was wearing a grey fedora, complete with a black band around it, and his glasses lay forgotten on the counter. But his cheeks still carried that rosy tinge, and it just about drove Pete mad.
“I know! It’s one of my favourites. I won’t pretend that I don’t prefer Bowie, but Iggy Pop’s always good for when…” Pete stopped listening, instead focusing on the way the boy’s lips moved to form the words, how passionate he suddenly became, from being a shy kid to full out music geek. Yep, Pete was in love.
“What’s your name?” Pete blurted suddenly. The boy stopped and frowned for a minute.
“…It says it right here on my nametag.” He pointed to the plastic attached to his shirt, looking at Pete curiously.
“Oh.” Pete said, peering at the work written in Sharpie on the white plastic. “Hey, Patrick.” He smiled and looked back up, to see the boy… Blushing?
“Yeah. Um, what’s your name?” He asked, looking bashful. Pete wanted to die.
“I’m Pete.” He held out a hand and shook Patrick’s firmly, feeling the warm, soft flesh of the boy’s palm. But then the callouses of his fingertips. “Do you play an instrument?” He asked, feeling regretful as Patrick pulled his hand away.
“Um, yeah. I play drums.” Patrick answered with a shy grin.
“Really?” Pete frowned, shocked. “Don’t you play, like, guitar or something?”
“Well, I mess around with a guitar as well. Maybe a bit of trumpet, sometimes violin, but my brother’s way better than me at that…”
“Seriously?” Pete smiled at him. “You’re like… Amazing.”
“No I’m not.” He shook his head, blushing even more than he already was.
“Do you wanna make out?” Pete offered quickly. He expected Patrick to jump on the offer, most people did.
“What?! Dude, no!” He exclaimed, stepping back as though Pete had already tried to attach their lips.
“Come on.” Pete rolled his eyes and leaned across the counter, totally not leering. “You’re hot, I’m hot… It’s kind of perfect.”
“I don’t even know you!” Patrick continued, looking scandalised.
“You have to know me to make out with me?” Pete looked at Patrick, confused. Nobody else passed up the opportunity to make out with him. Maybe because the majority of those people had just been at one of his shows and so were just aiming to say that they got in a rock star’s pants. The rest of them saw the amount of eyeliner Pete applied and were all for it.
“Of course! And besides… I’m not sure I’m your type.” Patrick added almost ruefully.
“Is that just a polite way of saying I’m not your type?” Pete asked, staring into Patrick’s blue green eyes, which looked particularly bright today.
“Maybe you should go.” Patrick said quietly instead.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Pete shrugged, straightening and dusting himself off. He almost cooed when a relieved look passed over Patrick’s face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Pattycakes.” He grinned and waved to the flustered looking teen, swiftly exiting the shop.
____
“His name is Patrick.” Pete announced happily that same afternoon. He rested his bass on his lap as he fiddled with the tuning pegs, trying to get the instrument to sound right. They were holding practice in his basement tonight, and they were all waiting on him, seeing as he had insisted the instrument was tuned, only to discover minutes later that it was decidedly not.
“Did you steal his wallet or something?” Joe asked, looking almost impressed. He was filling in for their lead guitarist, as the idiot had broken his arm again. Personally, Pete thought the kid should just take a permanent place in the band. He was good enough for that.
“No. He had a name tag.” Pete responded smugly.
“That you somehow didn’t manage to notice…?” Joe shook his head and strummed a couple of chords on his own guitar.
“Shut up. So do you know him?” Pete demanded.
“There are a lot of Patricks you know. What does he look like- and skip over the cheesy metaphors.” Joe added pointedly.
“So he’s quite pale, maybe an inch or two shorter than me, and he’s got blonde hair but he’s always wearing a hat-“
“Patrick Stump.” Joe interrupted, without hesitation.
“Patrick Stump?” Pete repeated. “You sure?”
“Absolutely. He’s in my maths class. Kinda quiet, unless you get him into a conversation about music.”
“Yeah, that’s him! Are you guys friends?”
“Musically speaking.” Joe shrugged. “Whenever one of us had discovered a new band we talk.”
“Dude, you should totally invite him to our show on Saturday!” Pete exclaimed happily. Patrick would be blown away by Pete’s insane skills and let the other boy have his way with him. To a certain extent.
“Why don’t you just invite him yourself?”
“You can’t tell him I’m in the band.” Pete insisted, finally finishing with his bass and slipping the strap over his head. “He won’t come otherwise.”
Joe sighed and shook his head. “What did you do, Pete?”
Pete simply laughed and plucked the strings of his bass a couple of times, just to be certain because he didn’t fully trust his instinct. “Nothing, dear Trohman, nothing. Are you losers ready or what?”
____
The next day Pete showed up around noon, waving to Patrick cheerfully as he stepped into the music shop. Patrick eyed him warily before turning away again, bending down to sort something out on one of the lower shelves. Pete bit the inside of his lip. He was acting pointedly gay below the waist, if his hardening cock was anything to go by. Pete pulled his shirt down and walked up to Patrick, tapping him on the back with his pointer finger.
“What do you want, Pete?” He sighed and stood up, glaring at the older boy.
“To apologise.” Pete said, raising one hand in surrender, the other holding down the hem of his shirt. “I shouldn’t have asked you to, you know.”
Patrick narrowed his eyes at Pete for a moment before deciding that he was being sincere. “… It’s alright.” He responded finally. Pete grinned in relief and leaned forward to hug Patrick. “What are you doing?” The younger boy squirmed, pushing Pete off him, looking uncomfortable.
“So do you wanna go on a date with me?” Pete offered happily.
“No thanks, Pete.” Patrick answered swiftly, stepping away from Pete, wandering back to the front counter of the small, almost empty music shop.
“You sure? We could go to a movie, maybe dinner, and at the end of the night we could totally make out.”
“Look, Pete… I don’t want to make out with you.” Patrick said gently, but Pete could detect a hint of annoyance, and perhaps fear.
“No matter.” Pete grinned largely. “Maybe later.”
____
“Patrick’s coming tonight.” Joe muttered into Pete’s ear as they sat in their ‘dressing room’ on Saturday night. Pete had gone to the music shop every day to pester Patrick for at least an hour, offering a make out just as he was about to leave. The younger boy would blush adorably and shake his head, scurrying to another corner of the shop just to avoid the, quite frankly, creepy regular.
“Dude, are you serious?” Pete asked enthusiastically.
“Yep. I told him I was filling in for their guitarist and he agreed to come and watch.” Joe responded, smirking as Pete leapt up in joy.
“He totally won’t be able to resist me when he sees how talented I am.” Pete mused, sighing and resting his cheek in his palm.
“Yeah okay, Pete.” Joe rolled his eyes and stepped out of the room, going to watch the first act playing, a small band called Sleeping With Sirens, if he remembered correctly. They were hardcore as well, but more melodic, and the lead singer kept on dedicating his songs to ‘Vic’, who Pete could only assume was his boyfriend. Maybe that’s what he needed to do. Write Patrick a song.
“We’re up.” Joe re-entered the room twenty minutes later, and Pete all but ran to the stage, taking his bass from his tech and bounding into the club, grinning into the crowd. He saw the lead singer of Sleeping With Sirens (a skinny, pale kid by the name of Kellin) sitting with a boy even smaller than him with tan skin and curly, brown hair. Kellin looked up and waved at Pete, who smiled back and then began to scan the crowd for Patrick. The rest of the band came on, yelling greetings to the crowd when Pete’s eyes finally settled on the teenager. He was looking up at Pete with a shocked expression, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly. Pete grinned and waved, finally tapping his microphone and starting their set.
____
“- never told me that Pete was in this band.” Pete could hear Patrick, an hour and a half later, snapping at Joe.
“I didn’t think you needed to know.” Joe replied.
“Come on, Joe. You know he creeps me out-“
“Hey, guys.” Pete stepped in, waving cheerfully to Patrick and shooing Joe out of the room. The younger, but taller boy nodded and stepped away, slapping Patrick on the shoulder before doing so.
“Hey, Trick.” Pete grinned.
“Pete.” Patrick just managed not to sigh.
“What did you think of the show?” Pete asked eagerly.
“Joe’s really good at guitar.” He shrugged, almost smiling. “And your backdrop was pretty cool.”
“Let me rephrase. What did you think of me?”
“You’re a talented screamer.” Patrick admitted, grudgingly relenting.
“And my playing?” Pete pushed his luck, knowing that Patrick was going to come up with a snarky comment.
“You suck at bass.” Patrick shrugged.
“Spare my feelings, why don’t you.” Pete rolled his eyes but didn’t actually get offended. A lot of people said it. He was used to it. “You should make it up to me. Maybe by making out with me?”
Patrick rolled his eyes and made his way to leave. “Your band’s pretty cool, Pete. Maybe focus on that and stop harassing me.” With that, the teenager left, ignoring Pete’s clearly lustful look as he watched Patrick’s retreating ass. Yeah, he was kind of whipped.
____
Pete walked into the large McDonald's on the high street the next afternoon, everybody being out of the house apart from him. Whenever he felt hungry he'd go to the restaurant, still being unable to cook.

Pete began to walk towards the counter, joining the back of one of the queues when he heard a familiar voice that got his heart beating just a little bit faster.

"-wasn't my best, but it was still pretty good. I mean, I got an A, so that counts for something, right?"
Pete snapped his head around, hopeful, and his eyes landed on none other than Patrick Stump, who was sitting at a table with two other people: a mature looking older woman and a boy maybe two or three years older than Pete, looking bored but fond of the younger boy.

And Pete, being himself, decided to go say hi. Because that was his Patrick, and how could he resist?
So Pete stepped back out of line and approached the table, watching the small group as they ate and trying to fight off the smile that was trying to slip onto his face. Patrick was sort of ridiculously endearing, with a black baseball cap on today, and that exuberant expression on his face he only seemed to get when he was talking about music.

"Patrick, hi!" Pete said once he got close enough, causing all three people to look up. While the woman looked at him with pure curiosity, and the other boy didn't really acknowledge him, Patrick's face fell in a way that really should have been disheartening.

"Pete." He said stiffly.

The woman shot him a chiding look before smiling at Pete. "Hello, dear, I'm Patricia, Patrick's mother." Pete fought off the urge to laugh because, Patricia and Patrick? He simply smiled and introduced himself as Pete, hoping to be polite. He looked at Patrick, who was sitting directly across from him, and was also shooting him warning looks.

"I'm Kevin." The boy on Pete's other side said suddenly. "Patrick's brother."

"Oh thank God." Pete ended up saying, rather than simply thinking. Fleetingly, he had thought that this boy could be Patrick's boyfriend. They didn't exactly look alike.

"... What?" Kevin frowned.

"Oh, right! Well I just came to ask Patrick if he wanted to go to the movies with me." Pete continued. He smirked as Patrick began to shake his head frantically, stopping as his mother turned to look at him with a sharp glare. "On a date."

"No!" Patrick yelped.

"Patrick." Patricia scolded. "That's extremely kind of you, Pete. Were you wanting to take Patrick today?"

"Mum-"

"Quiet, young man." She snapped, as Kevin laughed behind his menu. Pete couldn't fight off his own grin as he organised his date with Patrick with Patrick's mother. It seemed that the only person who could force him into anything was his mum. Which was completely fine with Pete. Because he could (hopefully) get that make out in, two months after having originally planned it. But that wasn't really it anymore. It wasn't even that he just wanted to say he had managed to wear Patrick down enough. He genuinely liked this kid. He had a crush. On a high school kid.

"Well you two have fun." Mrs. Stump called, watching her son get up and leave the table with a perfect stranger to her, shooting the teenage boy one final look before he sighed and began to follow Pete out of the building, looking defeated.

"What's the matter with you?" Pete asked, turning to look at the downcast kid. They walked into the cinema, Pete immediately looking at each poster to decide which film to see.

"What do you think, Pete?" Was all Patrick said.

"I think you should be excited that we're finally going on that date. I mean, you were always doing something, it was almost as though you didn't want to go on a date or something." Pete smirked and stopped in front of a Texas Chainsaw Massacre poster. "You like horror?"

"No." Patrick answered bluntly. "But that's not really horror, is it? It's just some crappy slasher movie."

"Do you like crappy slasher movies?" Pete questioned hopefully.

Patrick just shrugged.

"Come on, Pat." Pete smiled and grabbed the younger's hand, pulling him to the counter to buy their tickets.
____

The date... Could have gone better, definitely. Pete had, of course, just tried to kiss Patrick. Which resulted in a punch to the chest and a promise that it would be in the face next time. Pete found that weirdly attractive, but tried not to infuriate Patrick anymore, liking the way his face was arranged as it was. And the movie sucked.

Patrick insisted that he could make his way home on his own, but Pete was having none of it. And (God clearly had a change of heart and decided to swap to his side today) Patrick received a text from none other than his mother, telling him to invite Pete to dinner.

"My mum said you should come to dinner." The blonde said stiffly.
“Oh! That’s awesome.” Pete grinned. “We better hurry up, Trick. Don’t want to keep your mother waiting.”
____
“So, how did you meet Patrick, Pete?” Mrs. Stump asked over a plate of rice.
Pete looked up and smiled slightly at Patrick before turning to his mother, swallowing heavily before responding. “I met him in the music shop he works in a couple of months ago.”
“Why didn’t you mention Pete before, Patrick?” Mrs. Stump scolded her son. Pete grinned to himself and continued to shovel food into his mouth. So far, today had gone swimmingly. So maybe that date didn’t go quite to plan, but Patrick’s mother seemed to love him (he had that effect on women, he’d been told) and his brother was a pretty cool guy. It was really just Patrick he needed to wear down now. Which was easier said than done.
“-in a band, mum.” Pete caught the end of Patrick’s sentence, and could only assume that he was trying to prove to the woman that Pete was bad news. And, Pete had to admit, normally that line worked pretty well. Not with Patricia Stump, it seemed.
“How… Exciting.” She smiled softly and stood up, taking her own plate and then reaching across the table for the other three.
“Oh, I can-“ Pete started, standing up as well. It never hurt to lay it on a bit.
“Oh, no, don’t worry about a thing.” Mrs. Stump brushed him off. “I can do it.”
“I’ll help you, mum-“ Patrick began hopefully, pushing his own chair back and standing up.
“Patrick, sit down.” Mrs. Stump ordered coolly, and Patrick immediately flopped back into his seat, looking defeated. With that, the older woman walked away and into the kitchen, leaving Pete, Patrick and Kevin in the dining room.
“I’m gonna go now…” Kevin announced only moments later, winking at Pete before leaving the table and heading upstairs.
And then there were two, Pete thought to himself. The amount of things they could do now that they were alone-
“Are you planning on leaving now?” Patrick asked boredly, not looking up at Pete.
“Is that any way to treat your guest, Patrick?” Pete demanded in mock outrage, before laughing and leaning forward in his seat, his nose pressed close to Patrick’s cheek. The younger boy bit his lip before shifting away, dragging his seat in the opposite direction so the legs left a faint trail in the cream carpet.
“You okay, Trick?” Pete breathed. He heard Patrick’s breath hitch slightly, but apart from that it was almost impossible to see that he had fazed the blonde. But Pete had heard it. “How about that make out?”
“Maybe you should leave.” Patrick responded, his voice and quiet and dangerously low.
“I can’t just eat and run.” Pete pointed out. “Besides… I haven’t had dessert.”
This time, Patrick visibly shivered, turning his face completely from Pete’s in an attempt to hide the blush that was creeping across his cheeks, slowly descending down his neck.
“I’m really uncomfortable right now.” Patrick whispered, and Pete fell back into his seat.
“Okay, okay. I get it, you hate me.” Pete sighed dramatically and looked towards Patrick for some sort of comfort. Which he didn’t receive. “I’ll see myself out, shall I?”
Patrick groaned slightly under his breath and stood up, gripping Pete by the upper arm and yanking him up too. Pete grinned to himself yet again. Patrick’s feisty side was something he wanted to see more of.
Patrick dragged him to the front door, which he quickly opened and pushed Pete out of. The darker man turned around once he was outside and looked at Patrick, standing in the doorway of his house, waiting to say goodbye. It really was the perfect ending to a date.
“Please, never speak to me again.” Patrick asked desperately, looking from side to side as though afraid that someone would see them together.
“Goodnight to you too, Patrick.” Pete said cheerily, ignoring Patrick’s exasperated look. “Seriously though… Bye.”
Patrick visibly slumped in relief and stepped back, muttering a swift goodbye and then starting to close the door again.
“Wait!” Pete cried, causing Patrick to push the door back and look at him with shock and something that Pete decided was worry.
“… What?” Patrick asked cautiously, taking a tentative step forward and apparently bracing himself.
Pete smiled and flung himself forward, gripping Patrick’s face in his hands and pressing his lips to the younger boy’s and- oh God yes.
It was everything Pete had ever imagined it to be and more. Ten times, no a hundred times better than he had expected. Patrick’s lips (those delicious, soft pink lips) moved at their own accord against Pete’s, something strong thumping in his chest as they kissed.
It turned out that something was on his chest, rather than in it. More specifically, Patrick’s fists, attempting to push the older man off him. And eventually (although it seemed that Patrick’s lips were a freaking drug, once you had a taste all you wanted was more) Pete relented and let Patrick push him away, wiping his slightly swollen lips on the back of his hand.
Patrick stared at Pete, looking horrified, before stumbling backwards and slamming the door shut.
So maybe Pete had messed up.
____
“Explain to me why you’re moping?” Andy leaned across the sofa to talk to Pete, who had been staring into space for the best part of an hour. He hadn’t returned to the record store in almost a week, and it was killing him to know that Patrick probably hated him now. He always had to take things one step too far. It was really starting to bite him in the arse.
“The love of my life hates me.” Pete said forlornly, glaring at Andy as he raised his eyebrows. The others (Joe and Gabe and William were surrounding him, with some other people sitting out in Andy’s garden or somehow having made their way to the basement) were all off their heads at this point, the stench of pot slightly clouding Pete’s thoughts, even if he hadn’t taken a single puff himself.
“Is this that Patrick guy?” Andy suggested, slipping off the sofa to sit on the floor next to Pete. He loved Andy really. He was like a Jedi master or something. It wasn’t fair how wise one person could be.
“Yeah.” Pete sighed. Thinking about Patrick made his heart hurt. He’d never been known to fall so easily, not really. He’d claimed he had fallen in love with Jeanae, but she’d seriously messed him up. And he’d really thought he liked Ashlee, but when they broke up he wasn’t upset, because it turns out she had really gotten on everybody’s nerves, including his own.
But Patrick… Pete barely knew the boy, but he knew he wanted to. He knew that Patrick was adorable, and had excellent music taste, and could play about every instrument in the world, and that he was young and ripe and perfect and Pete knew that he wanted him.
“What did you do?” Andy asked gently. He and Pete were the only people who hadn’t been smoking, which Pete didn’t really get, because it was Andy’s house, and he had provided all the weed anyway.
“I may or may not have non-consensually kissed a sixteen year old boy?” Pete offered. Andy sighed and pulled his glasses off his face, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before slipping them back on.
“Pete… We’ve talked about this.” He said seriously.
“I really like him, Andy,” Pete wailed desperately. “What am I supposed to do?”
“You’re gonna go and apologise for being creepy, firstly.” Andy advised.
“But he wants nothing to do with me.” Pete continued loudly.
“Hey.” Gabe looked up, dope hanging off his lip. “Sh.” He raised a slim finger to his lips before giggling and turning away to stare at William’s hair, which hung onto his shoulders in small curls.
“An apology will probably act in your favour.” Andy countered wisely. “Just do it and see where it gets you.”
Pete looked at the bespectacled man for a moment before relenting and nodding. “Okay.” He agreed, suddenly feeling a bit happier, and he reached forward and plucked the weed from Gabe’s lips, taking a deep drag himself and leaning back in content.
____
Pete tentatively pushed the door of the music shop open, little bell tinkling as he stepped in. He half expected to see a picture of his face on a wall of banned customers or something, or for Patrick to now have two buff, six foot three men standing either side of him to protect him from the weirdo that was Pete.
Pete’s eyes scanned the small shop for a moment, a fleeting moment passing in which he feared that Patrick had left, before he saw the younger boy, his grey trilby sitting atop his almost ginger hair, looking just as soft and cute and perfect as usual. The younger boy had a box clutched in his hands, and was occasionally picking out CDs and putting them on their correct shelves.
Pete took in a deep breath of air before purposefully walking forward, standing behind Patrick for a moment and then tapping him on the shoulder.
“Yes? Were you looking for-“ Patrick stopped short when he saw Pete, who was looking pensive but also determined.
“I want to apologise.” Pete began. He looked hopefully up at Patrick, who was biting his lip, but he didn’t interrupt, and so Pete ploughed on. “What I did was completely wrong and inappropriate and I’m really sorry if I offended you or anything. I’m also sorry for, like, semi-stalking you and stuff; that was really uncool. I just- I really liked you- I really like you- but I totally get if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore. I’ll, like, leave you alone now.” Pete finished and looked into Patrick’s crystal blue eyes, hoping for some sort of indication of something. But there was no anger, no forgiveness… Just confusion.
“Um…” Patrick said, then clearing his throat. “I’m not upset with you for kissing me, not anymore.” He said finally, blushing and looking down at his battered trainers.
“You’re- what? You’re not?” Pete repeated, dumbfounded.
“No… I wasn’t upset with you to begin with. I was more… Angry at myself. For liking it.” Patrick admitted quickly, and all Pete could do was gape at him because-
“You liked it?” Pete’s eyes widened in glee as Patrick turned beetroot red, scuffing the toe of his right trainer against the crimson coloured carpet on the floor. “I thought you hated it, that’s why… Oh.”
“What?” Patrick flicked his eyes up nervously for a moment, then looking down again. Gone was the Patrick who could fling insults at Pete like it was his job, instead here stood a quiet, nervous kid who was unsure but maybe a little bit hopeful.
“You didn’t want to like the kiss because you didn’t want to like me.” Pete smirked as Patrick shook his hat covered head, blush somehow deepening and spreading down his neck.
“I don’t like you!” Patrick exclaimed.
“But you still enjoyed my kiss?” Pete teased with a small smirk.
“I- but- shut up!” Patrick exclaimed, then looking wildly around the empty shop as though scared that someone might have heard him.
“Patrick…” Pete sighed and took a step towards the younger boy, who backed into the shelf behind him, setting down his box and looking worried but also… Allured? The way he bit onto his bottom lip, and his eyes lingered on Pete’s own lips just confirmed his attraction to the older male.
Pete shrugged to himself when Patrick didn’t respond, taking yet another step forward and having to look slightly cross-eyed at Patrick. Pete let a small smile slip onto his lips before leaning forward just an inch more, pressing his lips to Patrick’s once again. And the second time was just as good, if not better than their previous kiss. Maybe because Patrick was actually kissing him back.
Patrick was kissing him back.
In fact, the younger boy was practically trying to devour him, tugging at his shirt, sloppily thrusting his tongue into Pete’s mouth and breathing heavily through his nose, continuing his assault of Pete’s mouth.
Not that he minded in the slightest.
Another minute of kissing and Patrick was pulling away, much to Pete’s disdain. But the look on Patrick’s face was enough to make up for that. The look of intense desire, the redness in his cheeks, the swollen, pink lips…
Pete was pretty sure he was in love.
“Well that was… Interesting.” Pete smirked at Patrick, who simply stared back at Pete for a moment.
“Okay, forget what I said earlier. I totally do like you.” Patrick admitted.
“Like, seriously?” Pete demanded, elated. He made note to thank Andy, his Jedi Master, as soon as he got back to his place. After he’d made out with Patrick a little more, obviously.
“Yeah… Even though you’re a bit of a dick, and you’re kind of really creepy there’s just… I dunno, something about you.” Patrick finished, waving his hands in a frustrated manner, looking as though he really didn’t get why he liked Pete so much. Pete didn’t really get it either, if he was honest, but he’d take what he was given.
“Persistence?” Pete suggested, causing Patrick to chuckle. He liked making Patrick laugh.
“Possibly.” Patrick nodded. The two boys simply looked at each other for a few moments, before a shout came from a closed door, possibly a store room.
“One of you ask the other out!”
“Shut up, Brendon!” Patrick yelled back, blushing. “Why don’t you take your own advice and do the same with Ryan!”
“Hey, that was uncalled for-“
“Whatever.” Patrick rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide his embarrassment under his placidness.
“Patrick Stump would you do me the honour of going on a date with me Friday night?” Pete offered eventually.
“I think I should be free.” Patrick replied coyly, smiling as Pete grinned and tugged him into a tight hug.
“I’ll come pick you up, okay?” He said excitedly, rushing to the door before the other boy could even respond.
“Um, okay!” Pete heard Patrick call as the door swung shut.
Pete practically skipped his journey home, already planning various spots he could try making out with Patrick. And he couldn’t help but admire his uncanny ability of getting anything that he wanted.