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If you had told Pete five years ago how his life would look five years from then, it probably would have sent him into a nervous breakdown. Fall Out Boy was on hiatus. He was divorced. He had a kid. He was in another band, writing a book and focusing on the record label and… He and Patrick were trying again. Or, more like (as Pete kept reminding himself), were trying at all. That last part would have probably turned 2006 Pete inside out; it would’ve wrecked him, the implications of it. As far as he knew, he and Patrick just were. There was no trying. They were just PeteandPatrick. But that was the root of the problem with them all along, wasn’t it?
Pete was pondering all of this while running errands on a Wednesday night. Bronx was coming home this weekend; he had to stock up on all of his favorite snacks. And he needed a distraction from the impending doom of the next day. And he needed milk, regardless of Bronx coming over. Mainly, though? He needed that distraction. Because tomorrow, he and Patrick were going out to have ice cream. On a date. Ice cream and a movie. It had been Patrick’s idea, their first genuine attempt to date. Pete had agreed incredibly eagerly, probably too eagerly. Because it was just Patrick, right? It was hanging out with Patrick, his best friend in the whole world. It hadn’t been long since they had last done that. So, of course, he was excited.
Except, as Pete continued to remind himself, this wasn’t just them hanging out. This was a date. This wasn’t supposed to be whatever. This was supposed to be real, not just them constantly orbiting around each other like one was the sun and the other was the moon, obsessive and avoidant all at once. Pete often likened their relationship to a crocodile and plover bird- he needed help easing the pain of life, and Patrick needed someone to feed his talent and shine. The older they got, though, the more Patrick learned to shine on his own, the more Pete doubted Patrick really needed him to feed upon. He gladly continued to feed him his lyrics, though, continued to have Patrick as a warm body and bright light in his life… Until the lyrics stopped and the bed went cold, and the light dimmed.
Now, they were figuring out how to rewire the light to make it spark, putting new ink in the pen; Pete could wax poetic with metaphors forever. The bottom line was: Pete needed to take this more seriously. They were soulmates, he knew this, they were in love, he knew this, they would never leave each other, he knew this. But he also knew that relearning the curves of Patrick’s body and the synapses of his brain would take more than just knowing they were soulmates. Even if you know the plot of a book, you still read it. Knowing a song's meaning doesn’t equal never listening to it. Apparently, even the bottom line was metaphors. Pete couldn’t help himself.
Pete went to bed that night, well aware he should not feel so nervous for tomorrow. Though, on the other hand, maybe he should? It was a first date. But it was a first date with Patrick. He wondered if Patrick would tell him he was overthinking, that, yeah sure, this was their first honest try at dating, but that it was just them. Pete did not think it would be very appealing of him to text Patrick with all of these thoughts to see if that was his answer or not. Instead, he swallowed down his ‘use in case of emergency’ anxiety pills and laid down, wondering if maybe the night would swallow him whole so he didn’t have to face a first date with the love of his life, Patrick Stump.
In the morning, Pete woke up. The night did not swallow him whole. He wasn’t quite sure what that would have even looked or been like; maybe it would’ve been scarier than going on a date with Patrick… But he would never know now, and that was a shame to him.
The date was at five. Pete had an entire nine hours to suffer and overthink and feel like he was suffocating. He could only hope that when he and Patrick met up and everything was fine that maybe Patrick could help make him feel like he was breathing again. If he said that to Patrick, he would probably roll his eyes, nudge his shoulder, and say something about Pete being a ‘shameless flirt.’ Was it flirting when seeing Patrick made Pete feel like a hundred tonnes was taken off his chest, that the air was a little purer, rich with oxygen and life. If Pete told Patrick that, his gaze would probably soften, and he’d give Pete’s hand a gentle squeeze and insist he gave him too much credit. If only he knew how much Pete felt he didn’t give him near enough credit. He could never give him enough credit and love and praise.
Nine hours was an incredibly long amount of time when it was the only thing between you and possibly the most cataclysmic event of your life. As Pete sat on his couch watching the first Terminator movie and scrolling on Twitter, he couldn’t help but wonder what Patrick might be doing right now. They had been texting on and off throughout the day, but not really about the date. Right now? They were talking about the Terminator franchise, naturally. He figured it would be odd if Pete asked what he was doing when they’d be seeing each other in a few hours. Keep it cool, Pete, keep it normal, he kept reminding himself.
Pete was thanking god for the Terminator movies by the time it was time to leave, as they had kept him thoroughly distracted. He knew his therapist often encouraged him to face his emotions, not ignore them and just distract himself, but when all of his emotions were going to be facing him in thirty minutes over ice cream, was he truly distracting himself? Or mentally preparing for the emotional confrontation by relaxing? Checkmate, healthy coping mechanisms.
When Pete arrived at the ice cream shop, he saw Patrick’s car was already parked. He was inside, waiting. Waiting for Pete, waiting for a date with Pete. Pete pinched himself, closed his eyes, and opened them again. And Patrick’s car was still there. This was real. So painfully real. The combination of relief and anxiety that flooded Pete was far more emotion than he was prepared ever to unpack, probably. So, instead of unpacking them, he got out of the car and began walking towards the front door. He felt like he was floating or dreaming, maybe? Pinching himself had been a foolproof method to prove this was real, but that didn’t change the dreamy feeling that hit him the second he pushed the door open and saw Patrick.
His hair was bleached blonde, that was a significant change from the last time they saw each other. It was styled, a quaff atop his head, but he was still dressed so… So much like Patrick. Jeans, a graphic tee, cardigan. Beautiful. Pete’s beautiful golden boy, who made the weight lift from his chest in an instant. Patrick didn’t even have to look back at him; Pete wasn’t dependent on the attention, just the feeling of seeing him. Everything he was so anxious about before suddenly felt so far away; maybe he left those thoughts in his car. Or maybe he didn’t quite care where they had ended up in the first place. Why focus on that when he now had Patrick to focus on?
“Hey,” Patrick greeted first, and Pete’s heart fluttered upon hearing his voice. Deep and low and warm, like a hug. Familiar. Comfortable. An endless amount of synonyms for safe could describe it, Pete was sure.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Pete replied with a grin, toothy and bright, the smile Patrick naturally brought out in him. Patrick smiled back, that smile that could outshine the sun if he really let it shine. Pete often encouraged him that he should, he should let himself shine brighter than the sun, that he could save the world with that light. He still believed that very earnestly.
“Such a dork,” Patrick shot back at him, laughing. His laugh was devastating in its familiarity; he didn’t think anything could feel safer than his speaking voice, but that laugh… It made Pete’s heart skip a beat, fluttering hard in his chest like a caged bird. Pete was sure the way he smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled gave away how happy that laugh made him, but Patrick didn’t comment on it, didn’t tell Pete to shut up or stop looking at him like that, just continued to smile at him all warmly.
Patrick ordered a strawberry milkshake, and Pete opted for a double scoop of chocolate and cookie dough on a waffle cone. They sat in the corner of the empty shop, away from the world and in their own little universe. And oh, oh, Pete had never considered that change, that taking things more seriously and actually trying could feel so unbelievably nice. And easy. That it was just Patrick, Patrick who apparently liked when Pete held his hand and rubbed the back of it and opened doors for him. Patrick, who hadn’t ever wanted to be hidden away even if attention scared him, being seen as separate from Pete, scared him even more. Previously, Pete would’ve thought hearing that would’ve torn his heart to shreds, but instead, now his heart melted. Patrick had wanted him that badly; Pete had been so afraid of causing hurt and destruction if anything changed when they were doing it in front of the whole world. Sneaking off to dim hotel rooms and whispering promises of ‘forever’ between moans felt a lot safer than walking out in public holding hands, than labeling each other ‘boyfriend.’ It was selfish of Pete, maybe, to want to keep Patrick safely his forever. For thinking that being exposed meant losing him, even if they were together.
But here they were, sitting in public, holding hands, being affectionate, talking about past problems and knowing they'd never repeat them, and the world wasn’t ending.
“Can I have a sip?” Pete asked after a lull in conversation, the silence of the moment making his ears ring as all he wanted was to hear Patrick's voice, and feeling there was a lot more loaded behind this question than just wanting a taste of a drink. Maybe it was just Pete, maybe Patrick wasn’t overthinking everything and finding symbolism in it all, but it felt like an ask of trust- to share a straw, a drink, an experience, out in public where anybody could see. Trust that he was going to do this and not regret it, not appear in paparazzi pictures later with some random girl, damning everything they’ve accomplished and healed here on this date.
“Mmm, I dunno…” Patrick hummed, biting his lip contemplatively. Pete’s heart fell, down 20 stories, maybe even into the Earth’s core. He figured it would probably burn on the core, turn to ash and dust. Incinerated. He always had a flare for the dramatics, but rejection from Patrick didn't feel far off from that.
“... Only if you give me a taste of yours,” He finished, lip bite turning into a grin as he giggled at his own silliness. Apparently, Pete just learned hearts could sustain temperatures upwards of 9,000 degrees and fly, as his heart had moved from the Earth’s core to his chest again, sparking him back to life. He made a relieved-surprised-choked noise after Patrick said this, which made the other raise a curious brow and chuckle.
“Is- Is that a yes or…?” Patrick asked, making Pete blush and smile sheepishly, nodding quickly at him and handing his cone over.
“Obviously, it was a yes… You know I’m incredibly eloquent and always make sense. It was a clear, concise yes,” Pete stammered, sliding Patrick’s milkshake over to him and staring down at it. The milkshake of trust, commitment, love… Pete was undoubtedly thinking too much about it. Did he care? He wasn’t too sure if he did.
“I dunno about you sometimes, Wentz…” Was Patrick’s reply, along with another laugh, and his tone seeped in fondness. Pete was drowning in it, the fondness and familiarity. Very happily drowning in it.
“Oh shush, you know you love me,” Pete retorted with an eye roll, moving the straw to take a drink of the pale pink shake.
As Pete taste-tested his shake, Patrick smiled and made some comment in reply about how ‘maybe he did’ that made Pete explode internally. He knew they loved each other, that wasn’t something groundbreaking or shocking even for a first date, but just hearing it? In this new context? He could get high off of how that made him feel.
The milkshake was sweet and light, the strawberry tart and bright dancing on his tongue. He was almost sure they had melded both vanilla and strawberry ice cream together for this, Pete could tell, and it was absolutely delicious. Perhaps the most perfect milkshake he had ever had.
“Y’know, I think we’re a lot like this milkshake,” Pete commented after sliding it back over to Patrick.
“Oh? I’m intrigued, lay your Wentzian wisdom on me, babe,” he hummed, all curious and clearly endeared. Babe? Oh. Pete was babe. Patrick just called Pete babe. He felt entirely unsure of how to function after that but somehow kept hold of his train of thought after grinning stupidly at Patrick for a moment.
“It’s like… There’s this cool, smooth, light vanilla? Complex and interesting in its own right, but then this bright, tart strawberry too? Also plenty complex and interesting. They’re good separately, but when you put them together… Fuck, do they shine. Like, they support each other? They complement each other so much. In a way, they hide behind the other to boost the other up, which makes it, so neither is left out and that… I dunno. Kinda like us. Maybe.” Pete rambled, focusing very intently on the milkshake as he explained this, until the end of his statement when he looked up at Patrick again and saw… Every synonym for love imaginable was painted over his face. It made Pete feel like he was the golden one, shining brighter than the sun. Like he was vanilla being boosted up by strawberry, even. And that made him so so shy.
“I think I’m following… So, in this metaphor, who’s who? Can I claim vanilla ‘cause I’m kinda boring? At least I am compared to the Pete Wentz,” Patrick questioned with a giggle, leaning forward to hand Pete’s ice cream back to him. He had been so enthralled in Patrick and Patrick’s PeteandPatrick flavored milkshake he had entirely forgotten about his own cone. Which Patrick had taken a sizable portion from. Not that he cared; he couldn’t be bothered to feel anything but fulfilling happiness right now.
“Hell no, vanilla is not boring! It’s the second most expensive spice on Earth for a reason! It’s so rich and complex and interesting, not to mention it’s the flavor that backs, like, everything up! But… In this, does it really matter? I think, depending on the day, we could both be vanilla or strawberry. What matters is what we can accomplish together, I think, right?”
Patrick sat for a moment, stirring his shake thoughtfully with his straw, a little smile playing on his lips.
“That’s fair, yeah. Shouldn’t overthink one of your metaphors like that. Us together is what matters to me too. I’m happy to be your vanilla or strawberry anytime,” He stated after that moment with an adoring smile, bringing Pete’s hand up to kiss the back of it.
And all at once, Pete knew everything was going to be okay. They would be okay, the future would be okay. Even if he had left his anxious thoughts in the car, he was sure that response and kiss had made them vanish from reality altogether. Because they were together, actually together, not hidden in a hotel room, stealing kisses in dressing rooms and bathrooms at awards shows, Pete wasn’t having to hold onto Patrick on stage as if his life depended on it.
They just were. In a different way. Not like a crocodile and plover bird, but like a strawberry and vanilla milkshake.