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Patrick was in a bad mood, and Patrick was small. Two things, unremarkable - okay, so the latter was maybe slightly remarkable - largely unremarkable by themselves, but odd in a combination; like chocolate and avocado, or that weird chocolate where they put salt in it - or really, any number of odd things that have previously been mixed with chocolate.
He didn't hold Pete's hand when they went for a walk, instead stomping ahead of him, not even singing under his breath. When they got back home, he slammed the door behind him and barely huffed out a, "Hey, Joe," at the hunched figure on the couch.
"Uh... Hey, Patrick. Bad day at the office?"
Pete snickered quietly and received a beseeching stare from Patrick, who didn't reply and headed back to his room. Joe turned around to face Pete. "What's that about?"
Pete shrugged. "He's been in a weird mood all day. Beats me."
Joe did his signature shrug and 'eh' and settled back down to watch... something.
"Well... I gotta go see what's up, I guess."
***
"So, um, what's up, buddy? You know you're being kind of a... ahem. Well it's a naughty word that begins with a 'd'."
Patrick crossed his arms further than they already were and huffed loudly. When he looked up, Pete noticed the dark rings under Patrick's eyes, then noticed that every single one of Patrick's guitars was in a different place to how they'd been yesterday.
"Looks like someone didn't get enough sleep last night," Pete murmured sympathetically, sitting down on the bed next to him. His arms uncrossed slightly and he leaned against Pete's side.
"I was working on stuff..." Patrick railed, in a way that belied that he didn't manage to get very far and was still frustrated about it.
"It's okay. Just try not to be so grumpy, all right, 'cause it's not super nice for me when you're a little stroppy assh- uhhh, meanie. And you're having an early night tonight."
"Awww, but Petey I don't wanna-"
Pete made a thoughtful sound and said, pretending to be thinking about it, "Do you remember when you did this before and it was fifteen minutes earlier for every time you complained? 'Cause I've been considering d-"
Patrick jumped into his lap. "Okayokayokayokay I'llbegoodI'llbegood!"
"How good? Going out for ice cream good?"
Patrick nodded earnestly at the mention of ice cream, and Pete breathed out in relief at how easy little Patrick's hissy fits were to diffuse, compared to big Patrick's week-long sulks.
"We just went out for a walk, should we like... wait a bit?"
Patrick crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to order, "Ice cream!" Then he must've remembered what Pete had said last week about the ways to get what you want and lowered his eyes meekly, pleading, "I would prefer to get it right now, please?"
Take that mom, Pete thought, I am so a good influence.
***
Pete wasn't going to lie, he wasn't usually into guys. He seriously believed that he'd been made straight, and that he and Patrick has been made as soul mates, and his sexuality had just had to compromise to fit Patrick in. A dude exception, though he didn't like to use the phrase. He hadn't really believed that one could 'turn gay' until Patrick had appeared. Like, Pete had appreciated guys all his life and used the word 'straight' incredibly loosely, he'd never actually considered actually dating one before Patrick.
It was like when Pete's brain saw a girl it liked it went 'yes. girl.' and when it saw a guy, even a really hot one, it went 'hmmmm. dude.' and maybe considered making out with them if he was drunk - or not - but when Pete saw Patrick, his brain just screamed 'patrickpatrickpatrickPATRICKPATRICK!!!!!!!!!!!' He'd never mentioned this to Patrick, unsure if it would be taken as the compliment it was or as an insult to Patrick's masculinity.
This was running through Pete's mind in some vague form while Patrick ordered a complicated sounding ice cream sundae with a list of ingredients that made the waitress have to turn over the page in her notebook to get it all down. She was pretty; not the typical apathetic, gum chewing waitress that made Pete feel incredibly nervous. She wasn't pretty enough that Pete felt the need to explicitly check her out, or anything - she might've been once, but now it was doubtful he'd be checking out Uma Thurman if she was stood right of him - but pretty enough that he noticed it in the way you notice hot models in a magazine: detached from them in a way that makes it a lot easier to casually appreciate them without any purpose, like looking at artwork in a museum with those red ropes in front of it.
Pete had never been in a relationship that had made him appreciate real life people this way before - he'd been in a few committed relationships but had never been properly invested in them in such a way that the whole part of him that was built for looking at girls went entirely to sleep. He glanced over to Patrick, amazingly still ordering, and smiled sleepily to himself.
Looking distinctly blue in the face, Patrick stopped and took a huge breath, smiling winningly at the waitress once he could breathe again, and thanking her. The waitress turned to Pete with a genuine smile that made her eyes light up and he wondered if it was worrying that he was just idly glad that people in the world were happy. He wasn't going to go soppy and lose his edge, right?
'Could I just get a coffee?"
"Oh, hey, you're the dude from Arma Angelus! I'm sorry, I don't know your name, but my friend was into you guys and she dragged me to a couple shows - um, no offence," she laughed apologetically. "Not really my thing, is all."
"It wasn't really mine either, to be honest. I've been focussing more on one of my other bands since we broke up... Fall Out Boy?"
She looked blank. "Sorry! I'm really not caught up with all the local scene stuff at the moment... I should get into it again. You guys playing any shows anytime soon?"
With that, Pete launched into full publicist mode. "We've just got back from a round of touring the whole Midwest - we've been touring pretty much constantly for this new album we put out last year, um, we got a small record deal with this indie label in NYC - I won't bore you with that, anyway. I think we're playing House of Blues later this month..."
"Oh wow, you guys must be doing well then!" she exclaimed, recognising the venue. "I'll try and make it."
"Great, you should bring your friend, too," Pete said, as she seemed to notice Patrick again. "Oh! And who's this little guy?"
"That's my-" Pete stopped, realising this girl now knew who they were and therefore his usual mildly edited truth wouldn't be wise- "My friend's kid. His name's... Jack?" He lied.
The girl, whose name Pete realised he didn't know, smiled at Patrick. "Hey, Jack!" she greeted with a friendly smile. Strangely, instead of the attention loving preening Patrick usually performed for strangers who flattered him, Patrick bared his teeth and growled at her, shrinking back into his chair. She put her hands up in surrender. "Pa- Jack!" Pete reprimanded, horrified. "I'm so sorry about him, he's in a bit of a bad mood..."
The waitress shrugged. "No harm done," she smiled as she disappeared to fetch their food. As soon as she turned her back, Patrick hopped out of his chair and stood expectantly in front of Pete. When Pete didn't move, unsure of what he wanted, Patrick sighed and held up his arms to be lifted up. "Can I sit on your knee, pleeeeeese?" He tilted his head to the side, looking adorable and not like he just nearly bit a waitress for no reason.
Pete sighed. "Yeah, okay, until the food comes."
"Yay!" Instead of his usual curling into Pete and trying to disappear against him, Patrick draped himself confidently all over Pete. "Mm, I love you, Petey," he sighed happily, just as their waitress re-appeared with the drinks. "Love you too, silly bear," Pete mumbled when Patrick pressed closer against him, deciding that Patrick really needed to catch up on his sleep because he'd been acting weirdly all day.
Patrick turned around and pressed a sloppy, serious kiss on Pete's jawbone and followed it up with three more in various places across his cheeks. Pete ruffled his hair absently, helping the waitress with the hot chocolate that was in danger of spilling over and the coffee that was so hot she winced when she tried to pick it up.
In the corner of Pete's eye, Patrick had gone very still and he was clinging even tighter, watching the waitress warily. Patrick was normally a huge attention whore around cooing strangers, and now he was acting scared and edgy and seeming, to Pete's eye, like he was trying to protect Pete, the way he was draped across him and tensed defensively. He puffed himself up, still glaring at the waitress, and latched onto his drink when it was handed to him. "Thank you. Please go away," he said matter-of-factly.
"Patr- Jack! I don't know what is up with your attitude today," Pete scolded angrily, completely shocked at Patrick's rudeness, "But you better sort yourself out and stop being horrible, right now, because they haven't made your ice cream yet and if you're mean to my friend here, she might tell them not to."
Patrick shifted his attention back from Pete to the waitress, and he looked like an angry kitten whose fur stuck up as soon as he looked at her, especially when he bared his teeth.
"She's not your friend, I'm your friend, you're not allowed to like her more than me! You promised!" he shrieked, turning around and burying his head in Pete's shirt.
Oh. Pete realised from Patrick's tear-stained intensity that there was a 'girl' and a 'boy' missing from Patrick's sentence - specifically before the occurrences of the word 'friend'.
"Hey, um, thanks so much for the drinks, I thing we just, need a few minutes... sorry, um, could you just give us five before you bring the food? He's going through some stuff right now. I'm so sorry for all the trouble..."
She smiled understandingly and ducked away. By this time, Patrick was downright sobbing into Pete's chest. "Tricky-pie, what's wrong, love?" he coaxed, with a hand on Patrick's back.
"You-" Patrick snuffled, pulling back enough to be heard, "I'm not very... good at, um. I'm not a very g-good boyfriend, and she was really, um, pretty and you liked her and you ignored me and she liked you a lot too and she wanted you to be her boyfriend but you're my boyfriend and I didn't like it b-because... she didn't even know I was your boyfriend and when I'm small it's hard th-that you aren't mine because I'm a little baby and... um... I just belong to you, always, but you don't... you don't-" Pete hated the tears running down Patrick's cheek and the tremble in his bottom lip. He could only feel a fraction of what Patrick must every time he had to sit passively by every time Pete accidentally flirted with people. Pete already knew Patrick suffered with self-confidence issues so it was probably hugely sucky that Patrick, already kind of self concious about the whole situation, had to watch what must seem to his dramatic childish judgement as his Pete being taken away from him, unable to do anything to lay claim to him.
His growling and bad attitude made a lot more sense now, that it was just self defense and not deliberate misbehaviour. Pete heaved a big sigh, feeling sick with guilt for not noticing it earlier, and general awfulness on Patrick's behalf.
He jiggled his knee up and down to bounce Patrick comfortingly and Pete clung to him.
"Trickster," He said hoarsely, "Lunchbox, I didn't realise. I'm always yours, I promise! I love you, and I don't want to belong to anyone else, ever. Of course I like you more than her! You silly thing, you don't need to be rude to people because you're jealous on my behalf. You don't need to be jealous. If you're a little baby, you're my little baby, who I love. And you're very pretty, too. But, I mean- there's other stuff that's, like," Pete stuttered, trying to be a good role model, "That's like, y'know, more important, and I'd totally still love you if you were ugly as f- anything, not that you are, but if you ever were, I'd love you for being Patrick... So this is why you've been acting dumb the whole time?"
Patrick nodded, snuffling and wiping a hand across his eyes with a frustrated huff, but he was just embarrassed to have been crying. Mostly, he seemed happier; somewhat subdued but quietly glowing at Pete's words.
"Look, will you please apologise to the nice lady when she comes back?"
"Mm-hmm. Sorry, Petey."
"It's okay, Rickster. It'd always be easier if you'd just tell me about stuff like this, instead of holding onto it and growling at people - I dunno when you're gonna get that."
"Yeah," Patrick replied, growing quickly bored. People (Patrick) complained about Pete's mood swings but this was something else. He'd been a ray of sunshine an hour ago, furious and closed off twenty minutes later, sobbing his eyes out about five minutes ago, and now he was bored.
"Hey, what's with the 'yes, mom' tone? Where's, 'yes, Petey O he of almighty awesomeness, whose word is golden truth?' I liked that tone a lot better."
"Yes, Petey!" Patrick said, a little too loudly, in exaggerated awe. "O he of... um, stuff that began with A and stuff that's true."
"Don't sass me, Mister, or I'll... uhhh... Tell your mom!" Pete finished triumphantly. Patrick directed a flat, uninterested stare in Pete's direction. Pete cowered.
"You'll tell my mom? What are you, five?" There was a cheeky grin, an eyebrow waggle.
Pete spluttered. "You're such a little a- punk. Look, just apologise to the lady."
Their server was a couple tables away, taking someone else's order, but she glanced over to check on them and saw Pete looking. Patrick originally bristled when she smiled at them and indicated with her eye's that she'd be right there, but Pete squeezed his waist reassuringly and he relaxed, even waving shyly at her when Pete kissed him tenderly on the head. He turned around to smile at Pete, blushing just lightly. "You're such a good boy when you try, Tricky," Pete mumbled with bright, affectionate eyes.
"All right, one ice cream sundae with... everything?" The waitress asked, holding out a bowl the size of Patrick's head, with a wink at the beaming Patrick. Pete felt so guilty he still didn't know her name.
"Me!" He said enthusiastically, with a reluctant, "Um, please. I'm... Uh, I'm sorry I was mean earlier. I- we would really like if you came to our- Pete's show... um. Thank you for the ice cream. By the way, he already has a bo- isn't single," Patrick added deviously.
The girl didn't seem embarassed or flustered by this as she set Patrick's cream mountian in front of Pete, as Patrick had made no effort to actually get off Pete's knee.
"Oh. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression but I'm really not... Um, I think seeing you when you had those, like, dreads with the bleached ends, probably like... put me off." She laughed apologetically and stood back. "No offence, again. I guess coming here hasn't been too good for your ego - or it's been very good, depending on how you look at it. Um, not that you have a huge ego, or anything!"
"Yeah, he totally does," Patrick whispered loudly to her, writhing victoriously in Pete's lap. Pete shrugged. What can you do?
***
Pete had the side lamp on, scribbling away, when he saw and felt Patrick slide out of their bed and slip off into the bathroom. He emerged about two minutes later, as Pete suspected, about two feet taller. A part of Pete wondered what physically happened when Patrick disappeared to the bathroom or another room or sometimes just woke up more a lot more than one night's aged - but Patrick hadn't offered to share and Pete figured he deserved the privacy. "Hello, you," Pete greeted, although Patrick had been there about two minutes ago, he felt it was polite to acknowledge the difference. Patrick's eyes crinkled up in a sleepy smile, which dropped away instantly when he climbed back into bed and Pete began to whistle 'Jealous Guy', breaking into a warbling, "I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry that I made you cry, Oh my I didn't want to hurt you, I'm just a jealous guy-" until Patrick elbowed him, hard.
"That doesn't even make sense! That's like, not even what the song's about, and you didn't make me cry, and I was the jealous one-"
Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick's middle, squeezing tightly until Patrick cut off with a choked sound. "Watch out, we got a Beatles fanboy here!" He smirked, until Patrick rolled his eyes and let himself be yanked against his boyfriend.
"That song isn't even by The Beatles..." He added quietly, unable to help himself, which Pete couldn't help laughing at.
"Shh, little music nerd," He hummed, capturing Patrick's lips in a gentle kiss. "Missed you," he murmured. "Yeah I know- and don't get the wrong idea, I love you equally when you're small, so don't get a complex about that or something - but I missed kissing you and, uh," he wrapped his leg around Patrick's, pressing up against him, "Stuff."
"Mm," Patrick bit out between a gasp, "Yeah, yeah, me too. Well, I mean, it's a bit different cause it's not like I was thinking about-"
Pete rolled his eyes. "Yeah, shhh, is it all right if I'm not super keen to discuss that right at this - nghhh - moment?"
"Yeah, I'm kind of with you there..."