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Patrick wakes up from his nap with a crick in his neck. He can hear the captain’s muffled voice over the intercom, telling the passengers that they’ll be landing in thirty minutes. Patrick blinks a few times, straightens up, and looks out the window. It’s pitch black outside, and normally he would groan because it’s only five, but he can see the lights on the edge of Chicago coming into view and he can’t help smiling to himself.
Home.
Patrick rubs at the sore spot in his neck and sits back. Just thirty more minutes and he’ll be reunited with his family after four months in New York. He can feel it in his bones, how ready he is to be back. It’s funny— he’d gotten so caught up in meeting new people, exploring the city, and composing like there’s no tomorrow that he hadn’t had a chance to miss them properly. The past few weeks it had been hitting him pretty hard, however: he wasn’t able to go home over Thanksgiving because flights got too expensive, and spending the holiday alone in his dorm room had been pretty rough. He’s hesitant to admit it, but after he got off the phone with his mom that Thursday night he cried into his pillow, he missed her so much.
He’d be lying, though, if he said he wasn’t looking forward to seeing Pete just as much as his mom and his siblings. They’d met through Joe a few months before Patrick started applying to colleges, and they quickly became best friends, and more than friends even faster. They had dreamed of starting a band together, and even got to play a few shows as a group, but when Patrick applied to Juilliard on a whim (and tons of encouraging from Pete and his mom) and was somehow accepted, well. It was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. And no one blamed him, especially not Pete, who insisted all the time that nothing could be too good for Patrick, that everyone would know his name someday.
It wasn’t easy though. They talked on the phone almost every night, and mailed each other the occasional care package, but it was a struggle. Patrick would feel so lonely when he finally hung up, rolling over to find no Pete to curl up against. He hated the days when he wanted to turn to Pete to ask him about a piece he was working on, if it was missing anything, and find the desk next to him empty. It didn’t make things any better that he could hear Pete’s voice catching over the line some nights, insecurities cropping up in the space between them and dragging him down. Pete wanted to come see him over fall break, but a family emergency kept him at home. That night had been particularly rough for them.
But now the plane was drifting closer and closer to the city, and Patrick could feel his chest swell as his city came into view, the distance between him and his loved ones growing shorter and shorter by the second. His family would be waiting for him at the baggage claim. Pete wouldn’t be there— his sister’s winter recital was that night, and as anxious as Patrick was to see him, they’d have a whole month to catch up— but Patrick would see him tomorrow, bright and early if he knows Pete.
Patrick smiles to himself again as the wheels of the plane finally hit the tarmac, everything bumping the slightest bit at the force of it. He knows it’s premature, but he grabbed his backpack from under his seat and pulled it into his lap: if he had his way, he’d be the first one off the plane. Of course, he’s in the middle section of the plane, so when the seatbelt sign turns off the aisle is immediately blocked off, and he has to wait a few minutes before he can exit his row. He thanks the stewardesses on his way out, then speed-walks through the airport.
The luggage claim is so crowded Patrick can barely see anything, but somehow his mom still finds him. She nearly suffocates him with her hug, but Patrick can’t bring himself to complain, wrapping his arms around her with the same gusto. When she pulls away, her eyes are filled with tears.
“Patrick, honey, I missed you so much,” she says, pressing firm kisses to his cheek.
Patrick keeps his arm around her. “I missed you too. I can’t tell you how glad I am to be back.” He looks over her shoulder and sees his brother and sister approaching. They look mildly annoyed, but they smile when they meet Patrick’s eye.
“Mom,” his brother starts. “I know you’re excited, but next time could you give us a heads up before you disappear into a crowd like that?”
They all laugh. Patrick’s mom pulls away, letting his brother and sister hug him in turn. Patrick can’t stop smiling, his cheeks starting to hurt even as his sister pulls off his beanie and ruffles his hair affectionately.
“Not gonna lie, I’ve kind of missed your racket coming from the basement all the time. It’s weirdly quiet without you,” she says earnestly.
“You’re going to regret telling him that by the end of the week,” his brother responds.
“Hey!” Patrick yelps.
His mom insists on taking his suitcase for him, despite all of Patrick’s protesting, and since he’s apparently the guest of honor, he doesn’t even have to fight his siblings for the front seat. The three of them pester Patrick with questions about college, asking about his friends and if he’ll let them listen to any of his new projects. It’s a little overwhelming, but in a good way.
Patrick gorges himself on homemade food, eating all the second helpings his mom piles on his plate. He has a stomach ache by the end of dinner, but it’s completely worth it to eat well-seasoned meat again. Then he takes up his normal spot in the living room and watches TV with his family. It’s weird how things simultaneously feel exactly the same and completely different. When he finally goes upstairs to go to bed, his room is oddly empty with so many of his poster hanging in his dorm, but he glances in his siblings’ rooms and they look untouched, like he’s only been gone a day. The only noticeable difference is the garlands and mini-Christmas trees decorating the space.
Patrick checks his phone as he crawls into bed, and his heart flutters when he sees the message Pete sent him earlier.
hey, I heard that the cutest boy in chicago is back in town. thinkin about paying him a visit tmrw ;)
Patrick sends back, You’re insufferable. I’m setting my alarm at nine for you so you better be on time.
Pete says, wouldn’t dream of standing you up. that’d be a fucking nightmare. Then, sorry I couldn’t make it to pick you up
It’s okay, Patrick tells him. I’ll see you in the morning, you can tell me all about your sister’s recital then :) I’m gonna sleep now though, the airport really took it out of me
Pete wishes him goodnight, sending him a litany of heart emoticons and x’s. Patrick smiles broadly one last time, sending Pete a similar response back, and plugs in his phone before drifting off to sleep.
~
Patrick is just finishing his first cup of coffee when the doorbell rings. He springs up from the couch, making it to the door in the blink of an eye. He yanks the door open without hesitation.
“Patrick!” Pete launches himself into Patrick’s arms, nearly tackling him in the front hallway, but Patrick catches him easily, still used to Pete’s aggressive hugs after all this time apart.
“Hi,” Patrick says softly, clutching Pete tight and burying his nose in his hair.
They stand there for a few moments, Pete rocking them gently back and forth as he holds Patrick in a death grip. Suddenly he lifts his head, almost knocking Patrick’s glasses off. Patrick opens his mouth to scold him, but then Pete leans in and presses their lips together, and all the words die on his tongue. Patrick melts into him, fisting a hand in his hair, desperate to keep Pete close now that they’re together again.
“Get a room,” Patrick hears his brother call from behind them.
Patrick pulls away and looks over his shoulder. “Shut up, we’re having a moment.” He turns back to Pete. Pete is absolutely radiant, brown eyes bright and crinkled at the corners, his smile so wide it makes Patrick’s stomach flip. He loosens his grip on Patrick, hands sliding to his waist, and squeezes gently.
“I missed you,” Pete says. “You’re even prettier than I remembered.”
Patrick’s face heats up. “I could say the same about you,” he responds, smoothing Pete’s hair back down. “I missed you too.”
Pete kisses him again, like he can’t help himself, but he keeps it to a few short pecks before pulling away, taking Patrick’s hand. “I think this is the earliest I’ve ever seen you wake up. I’m flattered,” he teases.
“Hey! You knew me when I got up at seven to get to school on time.”
“Barely. You barely got to school on time.”
“Is that Pete?” Patrick’s mom calls from the kitchen. She pokes her head out of the doorway and smiles. “Hey there, stranger. Long time no see.”
“Hi, Ms. Stump,” Pete greets her politely.
“Would you like some coffee, dear?” she asks. “I’ve already heard everything from Patrick about his semester, we have some catching up to do,” she tells him, leaving no room for questions.
Pete laughs softly. “I’d love some, thank you.” He turns to Patrick and grins, squeezing his hand. Patrick smiles back, then pulls him to the kitchen.
They sit at the table together, side by side, though Patrick knows that if his mom weren’t sitting across from them, Pete would probably insist that they share a chair. Instead, their hands are clasped on the table, only parting when Pete picks up his mug to take a sip of his coffee, and their feet are touching under the table. Every few minutes Pete turns to Patrick, grinning at him softly, before picking up their hands and kissing Patrick’s knuckles. It makes Patrick’s heart stutter in his chest, and he knows they have a list of things they need to do today to get ready for Christmas, but a part of him just wants to curl up with Pete and waste the day entirely.
“What are your plans for today?” Pete asks. “I’m not crashing anyone’s party, am I?”
Patrick can barely resist rolling his eyes. As if that’s ever stopped Pete from attaching himself to Patrick’s side.
“Not at all,” Patrick’s mom tells him. “I have some Christmas shopping to finish, and when I get home we’re going to decorate the tree. You’re welcome to join, Pete.”
Pete grins. “I’d love that, thank you Ms. Stump.”
“Of course, dear.” Ms. Stump smiles at them. “Well”— she claps— “I better get moving, don’t want to get started too late or the store will be a mad house. You make yourself at home.” She turns to Patrick. “And you think about what you want for dinner.” She stands up and leans over the table, planting a kiss on Patrick’s forehead.
Patrick smiles at her. “Thanks mom, I will.”
Once she leaves, Pete turns to Patrick and says, “Getting the royal treatment, eh?”
“She already said no to doing my laundry for me, but if we’re talking food, then yes. She promised me that when I came home she’d make everything I asked for.”
Pete hums. “Juilliard’s cafeteria not cutting it for our little rockstar?”
“Fuck off,” Patrick says, smacking Pete on the shoulder while he laughs.
They spend the first half of the day lounging in the basement. They start off watching Christmas movies, but then Pete says, “Oh, you know that snippet you sent me between working on finals? I have some lyrics I think would go really well with it, if we have time,” and Patrick responds, “Of course we have time, let me see them,” and they end up writing until Patrick distantly hears the front door unlocking and hops up to help his mom with her groceries. Once the groceries have been put away, Ms. Stump asks the boys if they want to help make cookies before they start on the tree, and there’s no universe where they say no to that. Pete relentlessly compliments Patrick in his apron, even though Patrick’s pretty sure he just looks like a massive dork, and his mom gets onto them for stealing too many tastes of the cookie dough, but when they’re done there’s two trays of sugar cookies baking in the oven, so no one can complain.
The boys help clean up the kitchen at Ms. Stump’s request, then she calls to Patrick’s brother and sister so they can work on the tree. They take turns moving boxes around in the attic looking for the ones labeled “ORNAMENTS,” then carefully carry them down the step ladder. They pull apart the tangled strings of lights, plugging them into the wall in turn to see which ones are still working. Then, when the tree has been lit, they start placing the ornaments.
Pete ends up being a great helper while they decorate, even if he makes it his job to “stabilize” Patrick on the step stool by touching his waist more often than necessary. Though Patrick has to admit he’s just as bad: he can’t stop brushing his hand across Pete’s arm or lower back when he passes him, if only to see the way Pete gives him a pleased smile when he does. He notices Pete has a habit of hanging ornaments in a clump, Patrick notices, but he looks so cozy and charming in the light of the tree that Patrick can’t bring himself to fuss at him (too much).
Before they know it, the sun has set and snow is falling in clumps, coating the parked cars outside in fluffy white blankets. Pete stays for dinner, naturally; they all feast on roast beef and mashed potatoes with boats of gravy on top. Ms. Stump frets over making Pete drive home in the dark, while it’s snowing, so she insists he stay the night. Naturally, Pete doesn’t fight her on it, shooting Patrick a wide grin when he thinks no one’s watching (in reality, both of Patrick’s siblings catch it, and he can’t stop the embarrassed flush that blooms on his face at their snickering).
Patrick hands off a pair of pajamas for Pete to borrow, and they get ready for bed together, but ultimately when Ms. Stump pokes her head in to say goodnight and tells Pete she has the guest room all made up for him, they make a show of saying goodnight, hugging tightly and kissing before Patrick shuts his bedroom door on Pete and turns off the light.
Not fifteen minutes later his door opens just a crack. “Patrick?”
Patrick smiles to himself. “Come in.”
Pete very quietly slips inside Patrick’s room, closing the door behind him without so much as a peep. Then he practically launches himself at Patrick’s bed, clambering his way onto the mattress and the under the covers, kneeing Patrick a couple times as he makes his way into the space beside him.
“Hi,” Pete says, grinning as he grabs Patrick’s waist and pulls him in. “I missed you so much.” He kisses Patrick, hard, taking his breath away as Patrick revels again in how fucking good it feels to be able to have Pete like this again. Pete pulls away all too soon, only to duck his head to plant kisses along Patrick’s jaw.
“Pete.” Patrick gasps when his lips brush the skin of his neck. “Pete, we can’t, my mom’s right down the hall.”
“I know,” Pete says, turning to rest his forehead against Patrick’s. “We’d have to be quiet, anyway, and I don’t want that. Wanna hear that pretty voice of yours.” His thumb is slowly brushing along his side, just under the hem of Patrick’s shirt, and it’s such a small touch, but combined with Pete’s words it makes something in Patrick want to unravel completely.
“We’ll have time,” Patrick promises. “I’m here for a whole month, remember?”
Pete nods, smiling softly. “God, I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re home.” He leans in and kisses Patrick again, softer. “I love you so much,” he whispers.
Patrick kisses him in return. “I love you too. Now let’s get some sleep, hmm?”
“Fuck yeah,” Pete says. Patrick lays on his back, letting Pete snuggle up to his side and rest his head on Patrick’s chest. “Missed your lullabies almost as much as your—“
Patrick shushes him. “Come on, bedtime.”
Pete just smiles and smiles, like laying next to Patrick is the only place he wants to be.