Chapter Text
Five in the afternoon was their usual after-work rush, and usually, rush times make the day go so much faster. College kids were pouring in from after class rush, and business men stopped by for their after work fix, and this isn’t even the busiest they get, not until the 8pm rush, when students are in desperate need of their caffeine to help get them through homework and study sessions, and couples, along with their regulars come in for some late night coffee.
That all being said, the shop is actually full and they’re keeping a steady flow of customers going and coming- lattes are being made, Brendon’s cupcakes and cookies are flying from the display case. The chairs and tables are being taken up and crowd is lively, chatter filling the warm walls as the smell of coffee drifts in the air. But, for some reason, the clock can’t seem to go any faster, and Patrick is getting antsy.
As he mixed up an iced coffee for the nice florist down the street (she’s always bringing them flowers for spring, and it adds a nice touch to the tables) he glances up at the clock on the wall, sighing at the realization that instead of the 30 minutes he feels like have past, it’s only been five, and Patrick can’t help but feel a little bit disappointed.
“Staring at the clock, isn’t going to make time move faster,” someone sang. The strawberry blonde barista glances to his left to see a grinning Brandon placing another cup into the line and fetching a cookie from the display case. The numbers stopped coming in, only because Brendon broke his own rule and took down Patrick’s board and doodled his own facts on the blackboard, much to Patrick’s relief, Hayley’s shift had ended at 3 and she had practically scrambled out of the coffee shop with a muffin in her mouth saying something about a quiz in her class later.
“Oh shut up Brendon,” muttered Patrick, a smile betraying the mock irritation in his tone. He handed the cup of iced coffee to the florist with a smile. She thanked him with a gracious smile of her own along with a five dollar bill in the tip jar before calling out another thank you as she exited.
“Is he still looking at the clock?” asked Gerard from the bar next to the expresso machine, munching on a cookie while sitting rather close to another boy with dark hair nearly reaching his shoulders and a tattoo peeking over the collar of an worn and loved band shirt, the cookies and cream frappacino with three shots resting between his heavily tattooed hands.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on break?” Patrick glanced over at his brilliant red-headed co-worker. To which Gerard shrugged with a grin. “Technically I am, I just so happen to be taking my break with my boyfriend at the espresso bar.”
“So, Patrick,” spoke the tattooed kid next to Gerard, who leaned over to break off a piece of Gerard’s sugar cookie as the other stole a sip from his drink. “Gee tells me that ‘Operation Blackboard Hook Up’ was a success.”
“Jesus Frank, don’t tell me you were in on it, too!” and if Patrick wasn’t so busy making drinks he would have covered his face with his hands and let out another annoyed sigh, but instead flicked on the blender. “And what the actual hell? ‘Operation Blackboard Hook Up’? Really?”
“Hey it was better than Brendon’s idea: ‘Operation Let’s See How Many Cute Guys We Can Get in the Store Before Patrick Finds One He Likes and Taps That.’” Frank nearly burst out laughing at Gerard’s side as Gee keeps a straight face as he speaks. “At least mine and Hayley’s was more practical than that garbled mouthful.”
“Frank smack your boyfriend for me, at least mine was accurate! We did get some cute guys in here and Patrick did find one that he likes, especially the one that he’s been crushing on, so,” he starts to sing-song, “Patrick might get to tap that,” and Brendon wiggles his eyebrows and dodges the plastic cup thrown at him by a now pink faced barista.
“I seriously cannot believe you guys right now…”
“Anyways,” laughed Frank and he and Gee passed the drink between them. “Give me details, dude! I’m curious to know about the guy whose possibly dating my second favorite barista,” he said with a grin.
“Second favorite?”
“Boyfriend privileges,” Gerard says simple, taking a sip and then passing it back to Frank.
“And what about me and Hayley?!” called out a sandalized sounding Brendon from the cash register
“A very close fourth and, you, dear Brendon, are fifth, only because that one time you didn’t give me my freakin’ java chip muffin-”
“JESUS FRANK I WAS SAVING IT FOR THE POOR PITIFUL COLLEGE STUDENT-.”
“You mean you?” retorted Patrick with a grin and a raised eyebrow. Brendon simply gaped back, looking much like a fish much to their customers’ amusement by the few giggles and laugh heard.
“I’m waiting, Trickster, details!”
Patrick’s still blushing as he calls out three names for the drinks he just finished before starting on three more. “He’s nice,” his face still an embarrassing pink flush, “He’s sort of a new regular, but he comes almost every other day, orders his usual things but I think he works by here.” He feels oddly childish for talking about this to Frank who looks gleeful as he rest his chin on interlocked fingers, elbows on the bar, all the while Gerard’s head is pillowed on his shoulder, eyes drooping despite the caffeine. Patrick makes a mental note to see if Brendon or Hayley might wanna switch shifts with Gerard, just so he can sleep in a bit tomorrow. He would gladly take it but he has a 9am study group that he’s not really looking forward to, but the professor give extra points to those he actually go to the sessions, so him and a few of his classmates are meeting at that ungodly hour in the morning, on a Saturday. “His name is Pete, and all his card said was his name and the place where he works, I’m guessing. I think it was DCD2”
Franks looks intrigued as he unlaces his fingers using one hand to grab his drink and the other to reach to his right and run his fingers through Gerard’s hair. “DCD2? Isn’t that like a record label? I think they’re the ones who signed that local underground band that made it to the top of the charts….Cobra Starship, right?”
“Yeah, with Gabe Saporta, they’ve been signed for a while I think but I guess they finally got their breakthrough. Apparently the guys in charge of DCD2 are locals to Chicago, they build it from the ground up,” added Gee from his spot on Frank’s shoulder, eyes peacefully shut at the feeling of his boyfriend’s fingers running along his scalp.
“I think, but I don’t know what he does at DCD2, I just know he works there because of the card,” the strawberry haired barista shrugs as he makes a hot chocolate and a green tea. “I think we’re going to grab some pizza later.”
“How romantic!!!” squeals Brendon, using his ninja like relaxes to dodge yet another cup, while Frank and Gerard laugh, and Patrick is now certain that the pink flush on his cheeks is bound to become permanent by the time he gets out of work.
*****
Pete’s usually good during meetings, even on his off days. He pay attention when he has to, will talked when needed, and ignore when he’s fucking bored out of his mind when he doesn’t give two flying fucks about the information being droned on about, but he will look like he is listening.
Except, this meeting is driving him fucking insane. He can’t sit still, he’s constantly checking his phone or the clock on the wall for the time and can’t stop the tapping of his fingers or the jumping of his leg. It’s not enough to cause a stir, but it’s enough for those who know him, meaning everyone in the company, to know that Pete is anxious and needs to be let out soon for whatever reason. It’s not annoying to them in a sense, Pete wants out this bad, they all really do, but it’s enough to start annoying the visiting business men in expensive pressed suits, wanting to buy his company off him, even making subtle little threats, which Pete, Joe, and Andy chuckle off.
As he glances down at his phone for the umpteenth time, and scribbles another line of words into his already messy collection of lyrics that ‘are not really lyrics but could be if he tried hard enough’ on a scrap sheet of paper, someone clears there throat and Pete barely spares a glance up at the monkey in the suit talking about better equipment and things like that if Pete signed DCD2 over.
“Mr. Wentz, I would appreciate it if you could give me the courtesy of your attention in this matter.” And Pete stops his scribbling of words, because, okay, that was really fucking rude. And sure, maybe Pete wasn’t paying attention and you would think this sharks would take the fucking hint that there wasn’t any blood in the water.
“I would apologize, but it would just be a waste of breath, and truth be told, I am giving you the attention, because I am letting you talk and pitch your idea, not only before me, but before the company itself,” motioning to the employees seated at the table, “And no, is no. We’re not selling, not unless you comply with our terms.”
“But Mr. Wentz, your terms do not seem to benefit the integrity of the company-”
“No, they don’t benefit the integrity of your company, which is why we won’t sell and compromise personal artistry. And unless you can offer me something in writing at this very moment, you can you crawl back into the hole you came out of and let us go back to helping these artist make the music they’re proud of and that we’re proud of putting out for the world to hear.” Pete’s voice comes out strong and firm, an air of finality following them as the man in the suit shuts up, anger and annoyance coloring his face.
He glances at the clock and sure enough, 5:45pm on the dot, finally. “Our sales are going great, and I can’t wait to see how next month turns out, but I’m sure if we all give it our best, we’ll be golden. Gentleman,” he nods to the suits in the room, “Thank you for coming and you’re welcome for the time on the floor, but get out and have a fucking fantastic day.”
Pete wanted so badly to take a picture of their faces, but he resisted the urge to do so, but the looks were priceless as they walked out of the boardroom, the door slamming behind the last one, leaving the only DCD2 employees in the room. Pete sighed loudly as he leaned heavily back in his chair, before standing up and facing his employees, his makeshift little family.
“Thanks guys for sticking with him through this crap, I know it wasn’t fun for any of you,” he started, his voice soft as he meet eyes with everyone. He was never good as public speaking but with this select group of friends and co-workers, it was somewhat easier, but Pete knew he had a tendency to babble. “I meant what I said. All I can ask for you guys and girls to do is it give it your all, and we’ll be golden, and every day, that’s what you do. Our sales are doing better than Andy, Joe, and I could have ever predicted, and we’re getting Cobra ready for their summer tour and we’re getting Max ready for his first album drop, so we’re gonna be losing our heads soon, well, at least I will.” There were a few smiles and laughs that filled the room. “Again, thanks for baring with us through the meeting, and that’s it, you guys are free to go.” Everyone nodded before getting up, light chatter filling the room and the small group filed out, passing Pete either a ‘Thanks’ or ‘See ya Boss’ before leaving, until the only occupants in the room were just the three childhood friends.
Pete slumped into one of the chairs as Joe and Andy eyed him. “Those fuckers aren’t going to take the fucking hint and leave us alone, huh?” mumbled Pete as he scrubbed a hand over his short, spikey black hair and down his face.
“It’s typical business tactics, they’ll keep hitting you until you cave. You can’t let it get to you Pete,” explained Andy, sitting besides the CEO. Joe was on his feet with a hand on Pete’s shoulder, as he spoke next.
“You handled it like a pro, man, but Andy’s right, they’re not going to stop, and we’ll be there to help you push them back to the street, no way in Hell will we let them take over our baby,” he grinned.
And it was times like this that Pete had to ask whatever God there was up there what he did to deserve these two fucking amazing humans as his best friends, through the darkest and brightest of times in his life.
“What would I do without you guys?” Pete smiled as he thought aloud.
“Be locked up in a looney bin?”
“Still stuck in your parent’s house, being a little emo hobo lovable panda?”
“Fuck you guys.”
And all three of them broke out into laughter. God Pete didn’t know what he would do without them.
“Hey Romeo, don’t you have a date to go to?” Pete’s head jerked up and glanced over at the clock. 5:55pm. Shit, Patrick got out of his shift by 6. Pete bolted out of his chair, Joe and Andy following behind him as they made their way into the elevator and back onto their floor, watching with matching grins as Pete dashed into his office.
What many people outside the company didn’t know that Pete practically lived in his office during his most stressed filled times, often forgoing sleep for days, only stopping by his apartment to showers and maybe grab a bite to eat. That being said, it didn’t surprise anyone that Pete may have had a few shirts hidden behind the office door, along with a mirror which already came with the space. As Pete righted his clothes, debating if he should keep his button down shirt and skinny jeans, or switch to a casual band shirt. He looked decent enough, maybe he’ll slip on his leather jacket or his hoodie…no leather jacket would look better with his shirt, he thought and he began fixing his hair.
“You seriously need to chill Pete,” called Joe and he flopped in the soft, black leather sofa against the wall of Pete’s spacious office. “You look fine, I highly doubt he’ll care if you showed up in bell-bottom jeans and a fringe sleeved shirt, just go and pick up the guy already. You need a fucking break from work, dude.”
“You guys sure you don’t mind closing up?” It was Friday meaning everything had to be lock up for the weekend, all loose ends tied, papers signed and ready for Monday, and all that good stuff. “I can make it back after we grab food and-”
“For the love of everything holy, Peter, go out and enjoy yourself for once,” sighed Andy with a gentle smile. “Joseph and I will take care of everything here, go and have some fun.”
Pete turned to both men as he grabbed his jacket from its place behind the door and nodded over at the guys. “Really, guys, I appreciate it,” his voice soft and sincere.
“Go, Panda-ella, go enjoy the ball, or your night on the town, except you don’t have a midnight curfew, the magic pumpkin, or the glass high heels, “ Joe motioned lazily. “Wait does that make me and Hurley your fairy god fathers?”
“Joe, shut the fuck up, and Pete, go, you’re already late if you were supposed to meet him at 6.”
“Right, right, wish me luck guys!”
“Bibbidi-bobbidi boo, dude!”
“I swear to whatever higher power there may be, you better quit it right now, Joseph,” is all Pete could hear as he exited the office, his phone in his pocket and his apartment keys in the other, as he walked into the elevator and pressed the button to take him to the ground floor. Maybe it was the nerves, or just the fact that his anxiety made his a mess, but he didn’t want to mess this up.
But then again, this was only just pizza after work, with some really cute stranger whose been making your coffee for the better half of the last early two months, who just so happens to have amazing blue hazel eyes, a dazzling smile, and is practically a fucking dream. It really shouldn’t be that bad….
Right?
****
The rush helps take his mind off of the clock, and soon he’s making orders left and right without even thinking about it, chatting along with customers and still trying to throw objects Brendon’s way at every stupid comment he makes.
Gerard finishes up his break, not before kissing Frank chastely before tossing on his apron so that expresso doesn’t get on his favorite button-down shirt, and starts helping Patrick with the orders, his eyes looking just as tired but his energy and movements masking it. For a brief moment, the dark hair barista catches Patrick’s eye and simply nods before gesturing over to Gerard who is calling out names to about four drinks. The strawberry blonde’s shoulders shag in relief because he’s 99% sure Brendon’s aware of Gerard’s dire need for a morning off, or just some sleep. He nods back with a smile and goes back to work, chatting it up with a girl whose here with her usual Statistics study group, Elisa. She’s nice, and had even admitted to Patrick once that if he weren’t into guy, she would happily go out on a date with him. He turned a brilliant red that day, but they’ve been good friends ever since, even helping him out with his mandatory stats class last semester, and she also happens to be suitemates with Hayley at the dorms, so it was totally convenient, and she was always a life-saver.
“Hey, good luck and have fun on your date tonight,” she smiled as he handed her a Chai Tea Frap.
He froze as his eyes grew wide. “How did you know about that Lisa?”
“Oh,” she grinned casually, “A certain barista who swears she’s Queen of the mystical lunar unicorns in a past life.”
Patrick groans, and he really wishes he still wore some of his old trucker hats, at least he could hid behind the brim. “Hayley.”
“The one and only,” she giggled, “Anyways, have fun Patrick!”
“Thanks Eliza,” he smiled softly before going back to his orders. He finishes up five more orders before he reaches one white paper cup. He turns it around in his hand to look at the order, only to stop dead in his tracks at Brendon’s marker cursive. Stop working and go have fun! Your date is here!! His head shoots up as he sees Pete at the door, looking all smiles and nervous energy and amazing. He’s wearing what he wore early, except with the addition of a leather jacket and his hair spiked up a little. Patrick feels himself blush before turning over to Brendon who had a shit eating grin on his face and Gerard who nudges him gently to the side, taking his place making orders.
“Go, live a little Patrick,” encourages the redhead with a smile. “We got it covered.”
Patrick deafly nods before making is way to the back room, hanging up his apron next to Hayley’s and fixing himself in the small locker mirror, readjusting his fedora, glasses, and his clothes before nervously smoothing is fingers over his shirt. This was stupid, to be so nervous, hell it was just pizza, and maybe a few beers, and a really hot looking regular to the coffee shop…Okay, deep breaths Stump, in and out.
He pockets his phone and his keys before shrugging on his dark, nearly black denim jacket, the sleeves going slightly over his hands, but it would do for now, it was chilly outside after all. He exits the back room and waves good-bye to his friends.
“Patrick!” called out Brendon, “Don’t forget to use pro- OUCH!” a cup hits him right in the eye before he could even finish, Gerard smiling and waving innocently at the strawberry blonde.
Patrick really owes Gerard lunch, or new paints, or something for saving him from a world of public embarrassment. But he’ll figure that out later, right now, he fiddles with the edges of his jacket as Pete opens the door for him so they could exit the busy coffee shop.
“Hi,” starts Pete, scratching the back of his head nervously.
“Hi, again,” Patrick smiles back.
“I, um, yeah, sorry I was kinda late,” Pete says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Work held me up.”
“It’s good, I feel bad,” blushes the barista, “I didn’t even see you come in, we just got busy and I tend to lose track of time.”
“I guess it worked out either way,” the dark-haired man chuckle. “So, uh, pizza still good with you? If not, we can totally get something else,” he adds quickly, his breaths coming out in small puffs of smoke as they walked.
“Pizza’s still good with me,” he reassures the other.
“Cool, I know this pretty awesome mom and pop place called Formacio’s that sells some pretty awesome pizza.” And they walk along the busy sidewalk, students and everyone else out and about on a Friday afternoon. They’re shoulders touch as they talk, making the short trip to the pizza joint, and there’s something comfortable about it all that makes Patrick feel fuzzy and warm, and just so…easy. It’s simple, and it feels right.
And Patrick was starting to think that this was a good idea after all.