Work Text:
Pride was a big, booming festival for the ages. Some people marched and held signs. Others danced in flamboyant multicolored drag, shaking tits and ass — both real and fake — for all to see. This event was for the out, the proud, and the unashamed. At any other time of his life, Pete would have felt right at home. But now, shortly after his own coming out, he was a bundle of frayed nerves.
Backstage with the floats, Pete’s back met the cold metal of a warehouse wall. Deep breaths, just like her therapist told her. Close your eyes. In and out. Good job. “Ground yourself to the environment,” the doctor said. Temperature changes helped, she found, especially on days like today. Who thought having a huge event like this in the middle of June was a good idea? At least it beat Warped Tour.
“Hey, you good man?” a voice came from beside Pete. His eyes opened to see Joe, hand outstretched with an offer of a water bottle. Pete gladly took it from him. “Or, uh, do I not call you man anymore?”
She smiled as the lukewarm water poured down her throat. “I’ve told you a million times, Joe Troh, that all the dude-bro stuff is still fine.” Holding up her pointer finger, she took a large gulp. “Unless I tell you otherwise.”
“Right.” Joe nodded and stretched his back. “I need to chill.”
Sighing, Pete closed his eyes again. “Join the club, man.”
“Memberships are always open,” called the distinct voice of Andy Hurley.
Pete could tell by the noises Joe was making that he was shaking his head with a mouthful of water. “Nnn-mmm.” He swallowed with an ahh of subtle refreshment. “You’ve been a member of the zen club for too many years to be telling us how to not freak out.”
Squinting open her eyes, Pete saw Andy quirk an eyebrow behind his sunglasses. “Wouldn’t that make me the perfect person for that?”
Joe waved his free hand at him. “Shut up,” he laughed. “Hey, speaking of freaking out, where’s Patrick?”
Tapping his foot softly, Pete looked around the venue. The wide-open concrete expanse was once the place the festival artists designed their floats, along with holding large crates of pride-themed party favors and other equipment. Now, though, the place was barren aside from small pockets of event organizers scattered between cardboard boxes and empty pallets. While Joe and Andy wondered where Patrick could be, Pete’s heart raced. He couldn’t do this without Patrick, especially with Mikey overseas in Japan with Gerard. Coming out last month was hard enough with his partners there, but a whole parade now without them? Where he’d be expected to perform? While being bisexual and bigender? On a float?
He just needed Patrick here, now, and fast.
Pete’s gaze focused on a back door across the lot. Call it soulmate connection, or instinct, but she had a feeling—
“Sorry! Excuse me! Coming through!”
—Patrick was right over there. Of course he wouldn’t miss this. Patrick wouldn’t miss a snail crossing the road if Pete deemed it important. (Pete did do that once, claiming that going fast meant nothing if he couldn’t enjoy the slowness of things as well. Patrick had rolled his eyes and quipped about being too philosophical for eight in the morning, but he’d stayed. He always stayed.)
“Pete? Pete?” Patrick snapped him out of his thoughts. Waving something in front of his face was such a cliché.
Wait… Was that—?
Pete must’ve been thinking out loud, because Patrick responded with a grin of pure sunshine. “A bigender pride flag? Yeah!” Patrick shuffled with the stuff in his hands — stuff all adorned with the bigender flag. Pete’s flag. “It took forever to find the one you like — the pink and blue one, right? — because all the ones people were selling had the yellow in it. Now, I know you like yellow, but you don’t really like it in the flag all that much.” Patrick locked eyes with Pete. “Pete? You okay, babe?”
Pete blinked. Once. Twice. She felt something wet fall down her cheek. When did she start tearing up? “No, yeah, I’m fine. Thanks Lunchbox.”
“Lunchbox?” asked Joe. “Oh no, she’s feeling emotional.”
Pete pointed a finger at Joe. “Hey, how come you only she/her me when I’m being emotional, hmm?” Joe did a triple take between everyone in the band, trying to evaluate how badly he just fucked up. Laughing, Pete dropped his accusatory demeanor. “Just kidding, dude. Seriously, lighten up.”
“Which one is it?” Andy said. “Should he be serious or lighten up?”
The band dissolved into laughter as a still-teary-eyed Pete pushed her giggling mouth against her partner’s. Initially startled, Patrick soon melted into the kiss. He hummed as he broke away, asking, “What was that for?”
Pete smiled, his brain turning into love-filled mush. “For being the most supportive partner I could ever ask for.” He pecked his lips again, then added, “Well, you and Mikey both.”
Patrick laughed, dragging Pete down for one more smooch. It didn’t last nearly as long as either of them wanted, with Andy and Joe pulling them apart so they could get to their float. It was almost showtime, and by God’s fag-loving grace, they were going to put on a show.