Don't ever tell anybody anything: Part Five
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Jun. 2nd, 2009 | 01:08 am
Pairing: Peterick (Pete/Patrick)
Rating: NC-17 \o/
Summary: If you do, you start missing everybody.
Word Count: 1100ish
Authors Note: No beta apart from MSWord, so point out any obvious problems and i'll fix them pronto. This is the first time i've written Peterick, so go easy on me. The Italics are Patrick's thoughts unless its obviously not, and this is mainly from his POV.
Disclaimer: This isn't real (as far as we know). Please don't sue me, i'm a student and can't afford it.
There had to be a mistake. Had to.
Patrick had listened in disbelief while Joe told him all about the party, how it was being thrown this weekend, and how Pete hadn’t stopped talking about it.
Well he never fucking mentioned it to me.
He dug angrily at the bottom of the ice-cream tub, trying to get at the last thawed piece of brownie. Patrick had been lounging around the house for days now, thinking about the whole sad situation; it wasn’t just sad because he felt used, it was sad because he was so bothered by it. Pete probably didn’t care. He was, probably, sitting with his girlfriend right now, laughing and telling her all about his creepy new stalker. The answer machine beeped behind him. He was screening all his calls, only answering the ones he absolutely had to while leaving all the ones he didn’t to record a message. He erased them daily.
“Patrick, pick up the god-damn phone. I know you can hear me. This is your last chance, buddy! No? FINE!”
Lisa sounded pissed; he should probably have answered, she’d called a hundred times since That Night. It deserved capitals, Patrick felt, so it was marked out like a national disaster. One day, children would get a day off school to celebrate his miserable week of moping. He pushed himself up so he was sitting, and tried to stretch out some of the aches from his complaining muscles.
He really should have answered her call.
Patrick grudgingly shuffled over to his front door, braced himself, and opened it.
“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!”
“I have left a thousand messages on your answering machine, you never answered one, for all I know you could have been dead!”
“Never, ever do this to me ever again!”
Patrick waited before he answered, just in case.
Lisa visibly deflated as she took in Patrick’s dishevelled appearance, the junk food wasteland on the coffee table, the Lifetime movie playing on the TV.
“God... What happened?”
She watched his face fall; tucked safely into the couch cushions told her everything, from the date to finding out about the party, to how his life was over, and how he’d put on weight and was going to be alone forever.
“You know what we’re going to do? On Saturday night, while he’s having his lame little party, we’re going out. Hit the clubs. Have some fun!” Lisa had his arm wrapped round Patrick’s shoulder; he wasn’t looking up from the muffin he was picking at, but she felt him shrug.
“We will, and you’ll forget all about that stupid little boy and his obviously even stupider girlfriend. I mean seriously, how can she not know her boyfriend digs guys?” Patrick threw her a look, making Lisa roll her eyes.
“I’m staying over. Go shower.”
Patrick spent the rest of the night awake, carefully trying to pull the blanket over himself without waking up the snoring form next to him. She could have slept on the airbed, even the sofa, but then they probably wouldn’t be such good friends.
“I’ll havvvve... A mojito? Yeah, a mojito.” Lisa had been choosing a cocktail for ten minutes; she’d picked the gayest bar she could find that wasn’t too far from Patrick’s house. She was wearing heels, after all.
The bar was crowded, but Patrick managed to elbow his way through; he yelled his drink order at the bartender, but he was too short to reach over the bar and be heard properly. He felt a hand clap onto his back, and suddenly his vision was a blur of purple.
“Hey. A beer for me, and a mojito and a beer for him. “
Patrick turned to look at his new friend, and realised he wasn’t so new.
They tried their best to hold a conversation, but it involved a lot of confusing hand gestures, one of which Gabe obviously misinterpreted when Patrick felt the hand on his shoulder move further down his back. It made his skin tingle; it spread like a shiver, along his spine and down to his legs—
Oh, hang on, my phone’s on vibrate.
Patrick awkwardly fished his cell out of his pocket, to find a message from Lisa:
“Gone home. Have fun with hot guy. You owe me x”
Gabe kept ordering drinks which Patrick politely drank, and by the time the club closed and they were outside hailing a cab Patrick was drunk enough to need Gabe’s arm tightly wrapped around his waist. The arm stayed there during the ride to Pete’s house (“C’mon Trick, we have to go. Free drinks!”), and by the time they were walking up to the glowing, bottle strewn porch Patrick had this ridiculous boy’s hand tucked comfortably into his back pocket. He could feel Gabe’s breath on his neck while he leaned in to slur something along the lines of ‘just go with it’, and Patrick didn’t really understand what he meant.
They stumbled together into the front room, going mostly ignored by the few people who were still drinking around them – but Pete saw them, and they saw Pete. He was sitting on the arm of the couch, his feet on the cushions, to face a girl sitting sprawled in front of him. She wasn’t paying Pete much attention and they didn’t appear to be talking, but they both looked up at the newcomers.
Without thinking Patrick turned, pulling Gabe’s face towards him; the kiss wasn’t careful, their teeth ground together and their lips pushed up at odd angles, but the point of it wasn’t to be careful after all. Patrick pulled away, and looked back towards the couch; the girl had gone back to playing with her phone, and Pete was walking towards them. He didn’t look happy.
For a second Patrick thought Pete was going to hit him, and as his arm swung up Patrick ducked. He opened his eyes to see Pete dragging Gabe firmly in the direction of the kitchen, the door slamming shut behind them. The girl on the couch sat up, stretched, and walked out as if nothing had even happened. Over the dim chatter of the few remaining partygoers, yelling could be heard from behind the closed door; Patrick moved towards it a lot more stealthily than was probably necessary, but when he got closer he could hear Gabe’s voice clearly – and soberly – saying something he didn’t quite catch to Pete. There was a silence, and then the door flew open. Since Patrick hadn’t heard Gabe move, he didn’t have time to move out of the way himself; the door smacked him clean in the head, and the last thing he saw before everything went dark was Pete go flying over him.
AN: Ridiculously overdue post is ridiculously overdue. Really sorry, but I had exams, then post exam parties, so things have been a bit busy. To make up for it, the next part will be posted in the next couple of days, and there will be actual proper sex type stuff. Possibly not full sex, but, y'know, something.