Work Text:
Patrick was curled in a tight ball on Pete's lap, like a fuzzy, unfairly adorable kitten. He was watching cartoons and practically purring, as he had a tendency to do when small and in Pete's presence. Occasionally, when something amused or impressed him, he turned to look at Pete like, 'woah, are you actually seeing this?' and Pete would grin and pretend to be equally amazed. Sometimes, he didn't have to pretend because man, kid programs were wild.
It was the perfect example of a lazy Sunday. Shamelessly childish as ever, Pete had purchased three matching onesies in quick succession: the first for himself, Patrick completely out of his mind because he was totally an embarassing manchild; the second, for small Patrick because how adorable would that be, seriously? The third was for normal-sized Patrick because, should Pete ever manage to convince him to actually wear it, that would be possibly even more adorable and Pete was determined to cling to his dream of being one of those obnoxious matchy couples.
He got half of his dream, at least, because tiny Patrick was hugely spoilt and loved to be bought things, and was also a people-pleasing (or possibly just Pete-pleasing, there wasn't a lot of evidence to go off) attention seeker, and came bounding into Pete's room, ridiculously smug and dressed in his newest present. That was Saturday morning, and he'd barely moved from Pete's lap since he'd skipped into it nearly twenty four hours ago, but to eat and go in the bath - he'd even slept lying across Pete with the laptop quietly flickering, still playing.
Realising it was almost midday and they hadn't even had breakfast, Pete sat up and displaced Patrick. Patrick whined in disappointment and tried clinging and whimpering but Pete valiantly ignored him. "Don't do that. You must be hungry, c'mon. And you've barely moved in twenty four hours - after, we can go out to the park, maybe?"
Patrick loved the park, but he was squinting suspiciously at Pete. After all the Christmas chaos was over, Pete had taken him to get his eyes examined straight away and he'd gotten a pair of tiny little spectacles, but he always forgot to wear them. "Hmm, twenty four is a lot," he mused, "but. I don't wanna move, I like cuddles."
Pete swore that every time he negotiated anything with Patrick, aiming for compromise, Patrick always came out with even more than he'd started with. A five/nineteen year old master of manipulation. "I'll carry you there? All the way?" Immediately, Patrick perked up, nodding vigorously.
"Okay, okay, don't strain something. Breakfast now."
***
Patrick insisted on feeding Pete from his spoon and his bowl. Pete could only hope no one walked in as he was spoonfed by a toddler - and that Patrick wasn't sick because the way he fed himself a spoonful of novelty star-shaped cereal, licked the spoon clean, and then fed another spoonful to Pete was really unhygienic. Pete couldn't really bring himself to care when Patrick was muttering, "Love you, Petey," and planting milky kisses all over Pete's face.
In some kind of parenting mood, it seemed, Patrick then decided he was going to pick out Pete's outfit while Pete picked his. Suddenly sounding just like his larger self (which wouldn't be too remarkable, since it was, you know, the same person) he said, "Well, I can't do any worse than you." Pete socked him gently across the ear. But evidently this Patrick was in on Pete's matchy-boyfriend plan because he kept peeking at Pete's choice for him - a plain green hoodie and faded jeans - and picked the best equivalent he could find from Pete's wardrobe: slightly less faded jeans and a hoodie so faded it was more yellow than green.
When he realised what Patrick was doing, Pete couldn't resist scooping him off his feet and blowing a raspberry into his hair. Pete got them both dressed in what he thought was record time and then yelled to whoever might be in the house, "Patrick and I are going out!"
***
Patrick managed to wheedle his way into a shoulder-carry and absolutely delighted in seeing everything from up high and declared, "I'm the king of the castle," about one million times on the ten minute walk there. Panting, Pete collapsed onto the bench as soon as they arrived, setting Patrick down with his feet on the floor.
Another lady was sitting on the bench next to him. "C'mere, Tricky, your shoe is undone." It wasn't really necessary just for Pete to tie his shoelace, but Patrick immediately clambered into Pete's lap. He knocked into the lady on the way, and she turned around at the impact. Seeing Patrick's terrified, apologetic face it was impossible to be mad so she just smiled at him. He bit his bottom lip. "S-sorry," he said shyly, inching back into Pete for protection, eyes downcast.
The lady laughed. "Don't worry about it, little guy." She glanced nervously at Pete with his black hair and bright red streaked bangs, faintly ringed eyes, then at Patrick with his bright eyes and fluffy, light hair, which stuck up wildly in the back. Pete gulped. "So this is your...?"
Honestly, every time Pete went anywhere with small Patrick, he had to deal with one million disapproving parents who couldn't mind their own business. Especially when Patrick threw his arms around Pete's neck and declared, "He's my boyfriend!" He even bestowed Pete's cheek with his showiest, sloppiest kiss yet. Pete grimaced. "He's my boyfriend's brother," he explained, utilising his consistent lie. "He's been calling everyone his 'boyfriend' or 'girlfriend' recently... learnt about it somewhere and didn't quite get it I think," he added fondly, petting Patrick's head.
"Hey! I so do get it, it's when you love eachother and you kiss always and you get married and have S-"
"Right, yep, Patrick, uh, I'm sure you totally get it completely," Pete rushed in before he had child protection on his ass, "Why don't you go play?"
Patrick crossed tiny arms across his chest, a bad sign. "I don't wanna, Petey, I wanna stay with my boyfr-"
"Okay, that's enough," Pete said firmly. "No more of that or I'll have to have a word with your mommy..." At that, Patrick meeped and leapt off Pete's lap. Pete felt a little bad at telling him off when he wasn't actually lying but he was being uncharacteristically tactless, and a little chiding and an apology later was better than Pete being arrested and Patrick being carted away and then god knows what after they suddenly discovered he wasn't a full-time five year old... Pete shook his head to clear it.
"Oh, so you respect your mommy but not me, do you, squirt?" he growled, tickling Patrick's tummy through his shirt. Patrick squealed and curled up to protect himself. Suddenly, Pete was glad that Patrick could be as loud as he wanted now, not like when he was locked away in his bedroom all the time. "Go play, Rick. Hey, maybe you'll see some of your friends from last time?"
Patrick pushed his glasses up his nose, looking so serious it made nosey bench lady laugh. "'Kay," he nodded solemnly. "We can get ice cream after, right Petey?"
"I love how you assume things, Stumps. If you're a good boy, maybe." Pete was suddenly nervous about calling Patrick by his real name, especially now he'd thrown his last name into the mix. When the band made it as big as he believed it would, what if bench lady heard of them and remembered an odd encounter with a Patrick Stump and a Petey? He took comfort in what he usually did, that it was too absurd for anyone to guess.
Patrick scarpered when he saw the swings become free. Pete desperately wanted to go and push him but he knew Patrick liked doing it himself and anyway the lady turned to him and said, predictably, "He's so cute!" Pete could almost put up with the nosiness and silent suspicion and wordless accusations in these type of interactions when they inevitably made a gushing comment about Patrick.
"Yeah he is. His dad isn't really around so since I started dating his brother he's really liked having a kind of father figure - I mean, his mom's amazing and stuff and I'm not really saying he needs a role model or anything, but it's just that I kinda know more what it's like to be him, and I mean his mom can't always be around so me and my boyfriend babysit him a lot, which she's grateful for, me- us looking after him. He's definitely a cutie though, but the things he comes out with sometimes..."
The lady nodded encouragingly. "My son's four, he always figures our the exact worst thing to say. He's a nightmare, but I love him, y'know."
***
After a record twenty minutes away from Pete, Patrick returned and climbed straight into his lap. He was breathless and red faced and his hair was even more messy than before. He panted into Pete's shirt for a few breaths before he turned to the lady and smiled winningly. Social duties done with, he buried his face back into Pete's chest and strung his arms around Pete's neck. "You're a very nice boyfriend," he panted, "And I have a lot of fun when you take me to the park. And you have very pretty hair."
"Cupboard love because you want ice cream?"
Patrick nodded, not attempting to hide it because he knew he'd get away with it anyway. "Well, yeah, but you do have pretty hair?" Jesus, how did such a tiny person have such big eyes? Pete shook his head in disgust at himself.
"Whatever. Let's go, love...ly," he corrected, aware of the lady still listening. He lifted Patrick onto his hip and waved to the lady. A beaming Patrick followed suit. Once they turned around, Pete kissed Patrick on the head and once on the nose. Patrick blinked angelically at him - and really, moving your eyelids up and down shouldn't be angelic- and kissed under Pete's jaw where he could reach."If you really are going to buy me ice-cream, then you are the very best boyfriend ever."
"Maybe the second-best boyfriend ever, cause there's this one guy, Patrick Stump - he's definitely one up on me."