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"Hey Trick," Pete grinned, setting his tray down at a table only occupied by his best friend. Patrick looked up from his sketchbook and grinned, waving at Pete. "We have a game tonight and I and so fucking pumped!" Pete cheered. Patrick laughed, as they were joined by their other friends, Gerard, Lindsey, Hayley, and Brendon. "Where're the others?" Pete asked.
"They have last lunch today. Sucks for them cuz we have first, those stupid fuckers," Lindsey laughed.
"You wouldn't be laughing if your boyfriend had last lunch," Gerard grumbled.
Brendon started giggling uncontrollably, causing everyone to raise their eyebrows at him. "Last lunch is D lunch. Frank has D. But not Gerard's D, so Gee is angry," he laughed out. Hayley and Pete booed him, throwing French fries at him. "That was comedy gold!" Brendon huffed. "What're you drawing Pat?"
"The five of you," he muttered. "You all look really happy right now and I wanted to capture it." He turned his sketchbook around to show a few lines, that clearly outlined the table, Gerard laughing, Pete and Hayley throwing French fries, Brendon smirking, and Lindsey rolling her eyes, but still grinning.
Pete smiled at him, "It's really great Trick. You know what else is great? The boy's soccer team that I'm captain of. We're way better than boy's tennis," he teased, knowing Patrick would immediately defend his team.
Patrick huffed and put his sketchbook down, turning sideways on the bench. "Screw you, Wentz. Boy's tennis is fucking great. We've gotten three trophies since I joined. And I'm only a sophomore. Plus, I'm the youngest captain they've ever had. Also I'm the youngest varsity singles player to make all-state." His eyes went wide and he clapped a hand over his mouth.
"Shit Trick, you made all-state?" Pete gaped at him. Patrick nodded and removed his hand, smiling. All-state was made up of the best players in the state for whatever sport it may be. There was a tournament to see where they would rank, and for tennis, it was that weekend. Their boarding school was one of the best at both soccer and tennis, adding the fuel to Pete and Patrick's extremely friendly competitiveness. Pete pulled his friend into a one-armed side-hug, grinning like a madman. "You go Stumpy!" Patrick grinned and went back to his drawing, stealing one of Pete's fries as he shaded the background. "Are you coming to my game tonight?"
"Jeez Pete," Patrick sassed. "I could either go to your soccer game, like I always do, or sit in our dorm, alone, with my guitar and sketchbook. God I just -- I just don't know."
"THE RETURN OF THE ALMIGHTY SASS-TRICK!" Hayley screamed, causing all of them to laugh.
~~**~~
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and Pete made his way back to the dorm he shared with Patrick. He arrived to the empty room and changed out of his uniform to his soccer jersey and shorts, so he wouldn't have to do it later. Patrick entered as soon as Pete flopped onto his bed, and the latter grinned at him. Pete patted his mattress next to him, and Patrick rolled his eyes but sat next to him anyway. Pete turned and curled against Patrick's side, and the latter wrapped an arm around him. "Is it weird that we're best friends and cuddle?" Pete muttered. Patrick, ever the quiet one, simply shook his head, before smiling down fondly at Pete. "Your cuddles rock. I'm gonna be jealous once I lose them when you get a girlfriend." Patrick froze at the word 'girlfriend'.
"Pete...I...fuck um...I'm -- I-I'm gay," Patrick whispered, tensing, shaking, and all-around looking on the verge of tears. He bit his lip and looked down at his lap.
"Oh. Same," Pete replied. Patrick turned to look at him in awe. "What? I like dick," he told him nonchalantly as he shrugged. Patrick just laughed and grinned down at Pete. "This isn't any weirder right? Just two homos, uh, homo-ing it up together."
Patrick laughed, and leaned down to kiss Pete's cheek. "No homo Pete."
Pete gave him a 'bitch please' look before leaning forward and kissing Patrick's cheek, before moving to peck his lips. "No homo," Pete whispered.
"You're probably the type of guy to fuck me senseless and the next morning look me dead in the eye and just go 'no homo'. Or, knowing you, you'd call 'no homo' while your dick was in my ass," Patrick snorted.
"Oh good, we've established I top," Pete smirked. "But honestly, I would do that with anyone but you. I'm a little homo for you, Patrick."
Patrick burst out laughing at how fake-serious Pete was being."God I hate your stupid ass."
"YOU LOVE ME AND MY ASS!" Pete shouted, leaping out of the bed. Patrick laughed and threw a pencil after him, earning a middle finger in return. "Okay I need to be at my game in like a half an hour and I need to calm down what should I do oh god help."
"I'd stuff my tongue down your throat if I thought it would help," Patrick teased, finishing the drawing from lunch.
"Haha," Pete sassed, continuing to pace. "Help me though seriously. Oh I have an idea! Can you sing for me? Please?" He crawled up to Patrick on the bed, pulling his puppy eyes.
The blonde smiled, "Grab my guitar would ya?" Pete beamed and grabbed the acoustic of its stand in the corner, before sitting next to Patrick, kissing his cheek as he handed him the instrument. Patrick's cheeks turned pink as he placed the sketchbook on the night stand between their beds. Pete sat cross legged and stared at Patrick, who started singing David Bowie's Life On Mars, before moving on to Addicted To You by Avicii.
Pete grinned, and checked the time on his phone. "Oh shit I gotta go," Pete mumbled, grabbing his cleats and shin guards. Patrick put his guitar back and grabbed his smaller sketchbook, as he had like seven, before following Pete out the door. "I'm totally coming to your tournament this weekend," Pete promised. Patrick grinned and waved, making his way over to the visitor's bleachers. He started to draw, and ten minutes later, he realized he had drawn Pete. Which wouldn't be weird, as he'd done it before (even having Pete model for him), except he had drawn Pete naked, cutting the picture off where it would get Rated-R, but there was a very visible v-shaped line of muscle leading to the end of the drawing. Patrick's eyes went wide and his ears turned red, before he stared at what he had done. Pete walked around shirtless all the time, and Patrick never realized he really looked before. He looked up to see...Pete standing at the team's bench, shirtless, and pouring water on himself.
What is this a porno? Patrick thought. He snuck a peek at his roommate, and then back at the drawing, realizing that it was exactly the same, (illegal) tattoos and all in the exact spots they should be. Holy shit Patrick you fucking did that all from memory. Good lord you like him.
Wait what? I don't like Pete...
Oh who the fuck am I kidding yes I do.
Hey, he said he'd be homo for me and that he is gay.
He was just joking.
Yeah, but I have a shot.
Patrick smiled to himself, flipping to a new page, just as Hayley sat next to him. He started to draw her profile, only occasionally looking up at her. "Is that me?" She asked. Patrick nodded and she smiled. "I love it. You're a great artist Pat. I feel honored to have you draw me." Patrick turned slightly pink, before looking up and seeing the game was about to start. He put the sketch pad away, determined to forget about the drawing of Pete he had done.
~~**~~
"WE WON!" Pete cheered, as they went to their common room, along with their friends Hayley, Frank, and Andy.
"Congrats. But the tennis team is still better," Patrick smirked.
"Just fuck already," Andy muttered. They both raised their eyebrows at him. "YOUR SEXUAL TENSION IS THICKER THAN PETE'S SKULL!" Andy shouted, smacking the back of Pete's head. "And that's saying something, he's the thickest headed fool I know."
Pete laughed, before yawning. "I'm gonna go to bed, night guys." Patrick yawned as well, standing up and following him. As they made their way to the hall their dorm was in, Pete said, "Soccer team is still better. We just beat our rivals, who were undefeated. And so are we. So," He stuck his tongue out at Patrick, who rolled his eyes.
"Yeah okay but that doesn't make you better than the tennis team!" Patrick huffed, throwing his sketchbook onto his bed.
"Does too," Pete replied like the five year old he was.
"Does not!" Patrick called back. He turned around to see Pete standing next to him. It looked like Pete was going to pin him to the wall and force him to admit soccer was better; not like it would be the first time. Patrick grabbed the collar of Pete's jersey and pushed him against the door. "We're better, Wentz."
"Don't think so Stump," Pete called, pushing Patrick and himself off the door. Patrick was trying to convince himself that Pete was not staring at his lips but -- well Pete was staring at his lips. His eyes flicked up to Patrick's, before he licked his lips slightly. "We're -- we're better," he whispered, before spinning them around and slamming Patrick against the wall next to the door. Pete surged forward, and Patrick met him halfway, crashing their lips together in an awkward collision on noses and teeth. Pete laughed, but tilted his head, kissing Patrick much gentler than he had been a second ago. Patrick put his hands on Pete's neck, standing on his toes slightly and tilting his head up to make up for the height difference. He traced the line of Pete's sealed lips with his tongue, causing the latter to gasp, giving Patrick the entrance he needed. They both grinned, and Patrick pulled his head back, panting. Pete immediately moved down to Patrick's neck, kissing and biting slightly. Patrick gasped, but pushed Pete away.
"I don't want you to regret it," Patrick muttered.
"I don't. And I won't. But I wasn't planning on going that far, don't worry," he whispered. Patrick sighed in relief and grinned, placing a hand on the back of Pete's head, pulling him in for another, sweeter kiss.
Pete giggled, and picked Patrick up into his arms bridal style, making the latter squeal, and their lips to separate. "Petey put me down!" Patrick squealed. Pete just shook his head, causing Patrick to glare at him. Pete laughed and put Patrick onto his bed, not letting the latter leave to return to his own. "I wanna cuddle," Pete whined, clinging to Patrick like an octopus.
"But I want to sleep in my own bed," Patrick whined. "And I want to change out of jeans."
"Can I sleep with you? Like, just sleeping?" Pete pleaded, pulling the puppy eyes back out. Patrick nodded, moving the sketchbook to the pile in the corner, and changed into his pajama. Pete, being the little shit he was, wolf whistled, as he climbed onto Patrick's bed, having shed his shirt and put on his own sweatpants. Patrick just smiled fondly and lay down next to him.
Pete turned back into the magical gay octopus he was, and pulled Patrick to him as they both lay on their sides, facing each other. The brunette smiled, cupping Patrick's cheek, and leaned forward to kiss him again. Patrick's arm went to Pete's waist, and the one he was laying on curled against the latter's chest, and he placed his loose fist against Pete's heart. They pulled back, and put their foreheads together, getting lost in each other's eyes. "What...what are we? Because friends doesn't seem right anymore and we should stop saying 'no homo' since we're both clearly very homo."
Pete hummed in agreement, "I'm not sure. I'm perfectly okay with boyfriends if you are. Also we can be as 'out' as you want."
Patrick smiled and pecked Pete's lips. "I want to be that couple everyone hates but wants to be. You know, the annoying ones who are super cutesy and hold hands under the table and walk each other to class. But I don't want to be the Frank and Gerard 2.0, constantly sucking face in the hallway. Basically I just...I wanna hold your hand in the hallway. I want to hold your hand in class too and be able to kiss you cheek or your lips in front of our friends. I want people to know we're together, whether it fits their beliefs or not. I want...I just want you," he breathed out. Pete stroked his cheek with his thumb smiling at him as he got lost in his sea green eyes.
"Then you can have me. If, I get to have you," Pete whispered back. Patrick nodded, and moved his head under Pete's chin, the latter wrapping his arms around his best friend -- boyfriend's -- waist. "Goodnight Patrick."
"Goodnight Pete."
~~**~~
"Come on Patrick you've got this," Pete muttered to himself, biting his thumb nail. He was at Patrick's all-state tournament, nervously standing in front of the fence that separates the spectators from the courts. Patrick was tied with the other boy, and was currently serving. If he won this point, he won the set, and he would win the match, which meant he would also move on to the finals. If he lost, it would be a tiebreaker, which he despised. Patrick bounced the ball twice, before looking up at Pete. The brunette gave him a thumbs up and a smile, Patrick returning the latter. He took a deep breath and threw the ball up, slamming it down into the box thing on the other side of the court. His opponent barely returned it, causing Patrick to smash it past him. It landed just on the line, which meant it was in, and the other didn't return it, which meant Patrick won. The blonde boy beamed, shaking his opponent's hand, and walking off the court with him.
As soon as he was through the door in the fence, he ran over to Pete, hugging him tightly. "I'm so proud of you," Pete whispered. He could feel Patrick's smile, and hugged him tighter.
"Hey we want some Patrick loving too!" Gerard whined. The two let go, laughing as they turned to see all of their friends standing behind them. "Ew okay he's all sweaty never mind." Gerard added, scrunching his nose up in disgust. Patrick flashed a shit-eating grin, before running forward and enveloping the firetruck-red-headed teen in a bear hug. "STUMP GET OFF!" He shrieked. Patrick laughed and let go, as Gerard huffed, "You're disgusting."
"Up next, P. Stump versus R. Radke," an announcer called out.
Pete adjusted his aviator sunglasses, before kissing Patrick quickly. "Good luck. Kick his ass babe." Patrick smiled and jogged out onto the court. An hour later, they entered a tie breaker, winner takes all. Patrick's coach called him over, and Pete could see him muttering something, and Patrick nodding along. The blonde then looked over at Pete, and laughed at whatever it was the coach told him. He jogged back over to the service line, as he would be serving first. All Pete knew about tiebreakers was it was first to seven, but they had to win by two. Ten minutes later it was 6-5 Patrick. The latter was clearly shaking, just as he was bouncing the ball nervously, getting ready to serve.
"Hey," Pete called. Patrick turned towards him, wide eyed. "Breath," Pete reminded him. Patrick smiled gratefully and took a deep breath, serving the ball to Radke. The opponent, slammed it back, to where it looked like Patrick wouldn't be able to get it, but the blonde surprised everyone, including himself, by hiring it back over the net. He must've put some spin on it, as it bounced just barely over the net, and didn't move much farther, making it impossible for Radke to get to. Which meant Patrick won and was the first sophomore to ever win the all-state tournament, making him the best tennis player in all of Illinois. He shook Ronnie's hand, before jogging off the court. His coach high-fived him, and many others congratulated him, before he was handed a trophy and a deal was placed around both his and Radke's necks. Patrick beamed, before handing his coach the trophy, and sprinting over to Pete. He leapt into Pete's arms, kissing him quickly, before burying his face into the brunette's neck, as the latter spun him around briefly. "You did it! I'm so proud of you!" Pete muttered into his ear, placing him back onto the ground.
Patrick smirked, "Who's the best now, Wentz?"
"Definitely you, Stump."