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Patrick totally thought like Pete didn't know he slept with his stuffed cat, Pumpkin, every night. They shared a bed, most nights now, and Pumpkin would always be sat casually on the table on Patrick's side, like he was just there for decoration, a little homely touch. Patrick woke up before Pete - even if he didn't actually get up before him - so Pete never actually caught him in the act, but Pumpkin was never in exactly the same place in the morning, and always looked slightly rumpled until Patrick presumably woke up properly and came back to fix him.
As stupid as Patrick liked to make out Pete was, in interviews and snickered remarks to Joe, Pete did have eyes. "Patrick. Babe. My angel. My reason for being, light of my life, Patrick 'Jesus' Stump-"
"Okay, I'm going to stop you there. What did you do?"
Pete's hand flew to his throat in indignation. "What did I do? I'm so offended that you'd even- look, whatever. I just wanted to say, I know you sleep with Pumpkin, so you can stop trying to hide it."
"I don't- what- I don't sl-" Patrick was stiff and bright red, and Pete stole a kiss in an effort to calm him down, but received an angry grunt.
"Hey, don't get mad at me! I was being nice," Pete protested against the narrowing of Patrick's eyes. "It's cute!" he added, wondering by Patrick was being so pissy about it.
Patrick folded his arms.
"Look, I sleep with a teddy bear too, he's called Patrick." It was cheesy, but the point was that as Lord of the Insomniacs, Pete wasn't going to judge what Patrick needed to drift off. Pete wished he didn't have to see Patrick's face drop, like he'd got the wrong impression, his eyes flicker doubtfully to his stomach before back at Pete's eyes, guilty because he knew Pete knew what he'd been thinking.
"Patrick, no! I mean 'cause you're cute and warm, and snuggly, and I need you to sleep," Pete sighed. It wasn't like weight was a huge issue between them, or for Patrick in general, and he didn't fixate or anything, but he clearly wasn't that happy about it, like when everyone went swimming and he didn't take his shirt off, or when he told Pete sleepily that he didn't think anyone was truly happy about being fat.
Patrick just rolled his eyes, uncrossed his arms, and smiled slightly, the way he smiled when he just couldn't help it. "That's superfucking cheesy."
"'M not the one who sleeps with his teddy bear."
Okay, so Pete deserved that slap, but he still laughed when Patrick argued, "And Pumpkin is a cat, not a bear."
***
"Patrick, I think it's time for Pumpkin to have bath, baby. He's getting a little, um, fragrant."
Shaking his head, Patrick clutched his toy desperately to his chest.
"Noooooo, Petey, he doesn't wanna!"
To get to Patrick's eye level, Pete crouched down and exclaimed in a silly voice, "Ricky, I don't like being stinky. I wanna be cleeeean!"
Unimpressed, Patrick clutched Pumpkin tighter. "That's just you talking!"
Pete resisted the urge to scream. "Trickster. Look, his paws are going all grey. You know how you feel when we're on the road and you can't get to wash your hair? Isn't it unfair to do that to poor Pumpkin?"
Patrick, with a put-upon sigh, handed over his prized possession, and Pete had to fight not to fist pump.
***
In hindsight, Pete should've known that sticking something important in the washing machine with a bunch of colourful clothes and going 'Eh, it'll be fine' was how at least ten percent of Simpsons episodes start.
He stared at Pumpkin, feeling a more intense terror than ever before.
Pumpkin, staring back at Pete with cheery glass eyes, hadn't just gone vaguely rose-tinted: he was brightly tie-dyed in every colour of the rainbow, and more. Pete, staring back and chanting bad words under his breath, was fucked.
He heard the patter of approaching footsteps and wondered if it would really traumatise Patrick that badly if Pete jumped out of the window in front of him. "...Uh, listen, kitten," Pete hedged, feeling like he was in a generic sitcom.
"Yeah, yeah. I heard the washer machine beeping! Where's my kitty?"
"Uhhh, it- he's, um..." Maybe he could call up Patrick's mom and see if the place that sold it to her back when Patrick hadn't even started preschool was still open.
"He's just drying off. You can't interrupt his bathing routine, it wouldn't be 'proprut."
"Ah, okay," Patrick said, nodding understandingly.
Pete loved Patrick's weakness for propriety.
"How about we go shopping while we're waiting?" He suggested brightly. It was simple. Buy Patrick something cool enough that he was distracted from his favourite toy since before he could remember.
***
"What about this one, Ricky?" Pete tried, holding up one of those creepy little dogs that walked around by itself.
"Nuh-uh. I want something more cooler."
"Whatever, love. We'll try the other toystore, the bigger one." It was all the way across the crowded mall, but Pete was desperate.
"Hold my hand, baby boy. I don't want you getting lost."
Patrick wrinkled up his nose and one day Pete was going to get a picture of that, and slid his small hand into Pete's. He clung tightly, viewing everyone they walked past with distrust.
"Oh my god, it's the emo one from Fall Out Boy!"
Pete liked attention from fans as much as Patrick didn't, and immediately swung to the source of the sound, surprisingly a guy, who looked like he was going to pass out when he saw Pete looking at him. Even better, the person who'd called out in the first place appeared to be not him but an older female companion, maybe a mom or an aunt. Pete couldn't resist.
He steered them towards where the boy had just sat down on the edge of the fountain, looking distinctly white. "Hi there, I'm the emo one from Fall Out Boy," he teased with his signature grin. He didn't know if he was famous enough to have a signature grin yet, but his imagination didn't let that stop it. Luckily, no one seemed to even notice Patrick while they chatted and took photos and Pete signed the receipt that the lady - who turned out to be the boy's young grandma, because Pete's day just kept getting better - happened to have to hand.
It was only as they were saying their flustered goodbyes that Pete realised why they hadn't noticed Patrick - he wasn't fucking there. At some point, unknown to Pete, he had disappeared.
Fuck.
Pete turned and sprinted away from the people. "Patrick!" He called lamely, even though the mall was busy and loud and he would never hear. Okay. Be rational. He'd probably just gone straight to the toy store, shy under the attention.
Almost certainly looking demented, Pete sprinted up and down all the aisles, knocking into about five children who all weren't Patrick. He was screwed. What if Patrick was really pissed, and told his mom? She worshipped the ground Pete walked on, but this was the type of thing that changed people's minds.
Pete was stumbling around the mall in a dizzy panic when he happened to hear, floating from inside the ancient independent music store,
"Excuse me? It's Beau-ee, not B-ow-ee. And, um, Low is way better than Hours..."
Glancing through the window, Pete saw a pretentious-looking high schooler's eyes bug out of his head and, of course, Patrick.
He came running in and scooped up Patrick, peppering his head frantically with kisses. Patrick screamed initially, but realising who his sudden abductor was, he relaxed and turned to hug Pete tightly like he'd been terrified too. He didn't seem too terrified, correcting strangers' pronunciation, but it wasn't always easy to tell.
Pete buried his face in Patrick's hair. "Fu- I was so scared, kitten. I thought I lost you, I was so..."
Patrick nodded into Pete's chest. Pete glanced up at the stranger. "I'm so sorry if he bothered you... he got lost - thanks so much for looking after him."
Dazed seeming, the guy pushed his glasses awkwardly up his nose and shrugged, wandering away.
Pete squeezed Patrick tightly. He could hear sniffles, and let go. He hoped it wasn't his fault that Patrick seemed to end up crying every time he was small. "Aw, Rickster, don't cry, silly bear, it's okay," Pete comforted when he felt his shirt getting damp. Patrick was sobbing loudly now, and people were staring at them.
"I was- it was really scary, Petey. I dunno what happened, but then you weren't there and I was lost," he hiccuped.
"Okay, love, okay. You're safe now. I got you. D'you wanna pick a poster from here - I'll buy?"
Patrick nodded, wiping his eyes frantically. He looked like what Pete imagined a baby panda would look like if you shaved its fur, with red patches instead of black, and enormous eyes.
He struggled out of Pete's arms and rifled through the selection of posters, settling appropriately on a poster of the album cover from Low, although he looked at a picture of Michael Jackson in a low cut shirt long enough for Pete to get jealous.
"Don't you already have a ton of Bowie posters, 'Tricky?"
Patrick sighed. "Yeah, but I don't have this one," He explained patiently, "And besides, I have too many Ziggy Stardusts, so I need to be more fairer." Pete was definitely going to explain to Patrick about 'more -er' but he just needed to relish the cuteness slightly longer.
Pete was paying for it - twenty dollars, really? - when Patrick grasped his hand and piped up, "Think Pumpkin will be done when we're back?"
***
"So, listen," Pete mumbled, desecrated Pumpkin behind his back as he crouched with his hands on Patrick's shoulders, "I might've, um, done a bad."
He held Pumpkin out to Patrick, wincing.
Patrick started laughing. "He's colourful! Petey, I love him. It isn't even my birthday. You're the best boyfriend ever, Petey. And I'm not even lying for ice cream."
***
Having given up the not sleeping with Pumpkin charade, big Patrick turned up in Pete's bed at about eleven, clutching his newly made-over cat.
"Move over, asshole," he whispered.
"Nnnnmmfffff... 'syou...?"
"Yeah, s'me. Move over."
"Hello, Pumpkin," Pete said, sleepily pleased with himself.
"I know, now, that you washed him with your ugly girl jeans and fucked him up, dick. You're so lucky he looks good," Patrick hissed.
"Yeahhh, you look good," Pete mumbled deliriously.
"Ugh."
Pete shifted to envelope Patrick, Pumpkin and all.
"Luyyu."
He felt Patrick pet him patronisingly on the head. "Love you too," he muttered reluctantly, kissing Pete sleepily before curling into his chest.
"Mgggnight, silly bear."