Work Text:
BOOM
Pete jolted awake as the viscous storm shook the entire house. A quick flash of lightning lit up the whole room making Pete realize that he wasn't in his own home. He tried to get up but his throbbing head had other ideas, causing Pete to fall back onto the couch and recover himself with the blanket that was so nicely placed over him some time before. As he laid there, watching the volts of light in the sky light up the room he fell asleep in, he remembered that he was in Patrick's living room.
Memories of earlier that night were slowly straining there way back into his mind. Patrick invited him over to celebrate Pete's birthday that was a few days ago. The original party turned out to be complete shit so Patrick just decided to make it up to him a few days later. It began raining pretty hard halfway through the small celebration and didn't let up. Pete was close to being completely plastered (with Patrick not far behind) and with Patrick's obsession to be a nice guy, he didn't want Pete to drive home drunk as well as in a massive storm.
At least his head was starting to feel better.
He listened to the rain splashing against the windows and the thunder exploding overhead. He was right about to slip back into unconsciousness, when he heard a quiet pair of feet from the kitchen. Carefully, Pete looked over the couch to see Patrick just standing in the kitchen, facing the fridge. Patrick seemed to be mumbling something then raised his hand and pushed on the surface of the fridge. "Patrick?" Pete whispered loud enough for him to hear across the rooms.
"It's not opening," Patrick grumbled.
Pete held himself back from laughing. "That's because you pull fridges open, not push," Pete explained.
Lazily, Patrick shook his head and turned to Pete, "I'm not stupid, Pete. I know how to open a fridge. But this isn't a fridge, it's a secret entrance to Roobalooshin."
"Roobalooshin? That sounds more like a bunch of sounds mashed together to create complete nonsense," Pete joked.
"Shh," Patrick silenced, stumbling towards Pete, "It's not safe here. They could hear us discussing the master plan. We must go undercovers."
"Undercovers?" Pete asked.
"Yeah," Patrick nodded and grabbed the blanket that was covering Pete and placed it over his head as he fell to the ground.
"Uh," Pete looked down from where he was half laying on the couch at the pile of Patrick and blankets, "You alright?"
"Shh," Patrick said very quietly, "I'm sleeping."
"Sleepwalking is more like it," Pete sneered.
Patrick remained silent after that. After the long pause of silence, Pete whispered, "Patrick? You still semiconscious?"
"I think they're gone," Patrick peeked his head up from under the blanket, reveling his nearly closed, droopy eyes. "Come on Pete. We can rule Roobalooshin together. We can be the two mighty kings of Roobalooshin."
"No thanks," Pete shook his head, "I'm not really king material."
"Wait a minute," Patrick suddenly recalled something said before, "I'm not sleepwalking silly, I haven't even gone to sleep yet."
"You haven't?" Pete glanced over at the clock then back at Patrick, "Jesus, Patrick, it's past four in the morning. What the hell were you doing all this time?"
"Well..." Patrick thought for a moment. "I tried to go to sleep because my head was starting to hurt much so. But then I couldn't fall asleep due to the booming of the rain and the splooshing of the thunder so I took these headache pills that would also bring me sleepyness. But then I accidentally ate the ones that allowed you to stay awake. So I said 'oh well' and started watching out the window until I began to feel better. Then I finished the rest of my book because it was a super awesome book. After I put the book down I began getting the rumbles in my tummy so I went to get food and here we are!"
"Ah, that makes sense, I guess. But aren't' you getting tired at all?" Pete wondered.
Patrick shrugged, "I don't know."
Pete nodded then suddenly felt Patrick's hands on his face. "Pete?" Patrick whispered.
"Yeah?" Pete asked unsure of what exactly will be said next.
"You're my bestest friend," Patrick responded, still whispering.
"Yup, and you're my best friend," Pete said removing Patrick's hands from his face. "Now I think it would be a good idea for you to go and get some sleep."
"But Pete," Patrick whined, falling to the floor, "I don't want to go to bed."
Pete rolled his eyes, "Patrick, you're a grown ass man. Get off the floor and go to bed."
"No," Patrick crossed his arms.
"Fine," Pete sighed, "If you want to act like a toddler, I'll treat you like one."
Pete picked up Patrick the best he could without dropping him and carried him off to his bedroom. "I don't want to go to bed," Patrick whined, squirming even more.
"Damn it, Patrick, knock that shit off before I end up dropping you and cause your head to crack open," Pete hissed trying to regain control over Patrick.
Somehow they made it to the bedroom where Pete basically dropped Patrick onto the bed. "I can't go to bed now though!" Patrick exclaimed.
"And why not?" Pete asked, crossing his arms.
"I got too much stuff to do. I mean look at my room," Patrick motioned around his room. "It's a complete mess!"
Pete looked around Patrick's room, reveling anything but a mess. "Are you sure you haven't cleaned it already tonight?"
"Oh yeah," Patrick whispered, looking down at his blankets. "I did that while waiting for the medicine to kick in..."
"Alright, mystery solved. Now how about you go to sleep," Pete sighed, tucking Patrick into his blankets.
Patrick squirmed under his blankets a little until he got comfortable then looked back up at Pete and whispered, "Will you read me a story?"
Pete paused for a second then said as sarcastically as possible, "Sure, let me go get my copy of The Hungry Little Caterpillar that I shoved in my asshole for these exact moment."
"I love that story," Patrick clapped his hands.
"Good for you, but I'm not really going to read you a bedtime story," Pete said then started walking away, only to cause Patrick to start complaining again.
"Pete," Patrick whined again, this time making puppy dog eyes.
Once again, Pete sighed, giving into Patrick’s sleep-deprived nonsense and tried to remember how the story went. “One day there was a little egg on a little fucking leaf and…”
“Wait, Pete, there’s no swear words The Hungry Little Caterpillar,” Patrick frowned.
“This is the uncensored version,” Pete explained. “There’s a lot of swear words in this version.”
“Oh,” Patrick giggled.
“Anyways," Pete continued, "the little shit decided to hatch and chewed four holes in the leaf it was hatched on, what a greedy pig, right? But then the next day it ate a pear and an asshole, I mean apple. On the third day, which happened to fall on valentines day, it decided to celebrate it’s third day alive and go to a strip club to watch all the little butterflies dance. There it ate seven chicken wings, a whole pizza and two shots of whiskey. After a wonderful day, it decided to go to sleep. When it woke up the next day, it ate a candy cane, two jelly beans, a marshmallow peep and a pinecone. By now this piece of shit was about the size of a quarter width wise. Think that was all the food that it needed? Hell no. Someone dropped off taco bell so it decided to eat through a few burritos and tacos and enchiladas and leave none for all the other starving caterpillars who got nothing because this asshole ate all the food. By the time it was able to grow a cocoon around itself, it had eaten so much that it wasn't able to produce a stable cocoon and ended up dying thought he winter that started in February for some reason. Moral of the story; don’t be a greedy asshole.”
When Pete finished his story, he looked down at Patrick to reveal him sound asleep. “Finally,” Pete whispered, relieved.
Pete went back to the couch, laying back down and still feeling a bit hung over. I know one thing for sure, Pete thought to himself. Patrick isn't going to hear the end of this one. Or should I say, King Roobalooshin, Pete gave a small smirk before drifting off into a well needed sleep.