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Joe hadn't gotten a date. Not that he cared or anything. It was only, y'know, homecoming. The second biggest dance of the year next to prom. It was no biggie. Plenty of guys didn't get dates to school dances. He could just go with his friends this year and he'll definitely find a cute girl to go with next year.
Joe sighed wearily, turning to his side and letting his body melt into the soft mattress. The reality was that the only cute girls who'd ever give him the time of day were locked in his own fantasies or hidden between the pages of magazines shoved beneath the floorboards. Any real cute girls he was interested in only ever gave him the stink-eye; if they acknowledged him at all, that was. He scoffed at himself, closing his eyes in an attempt to start sleeping the humiliation away.
He hoped Patrick had done better in his attempt to get a date. His nerdiness was charming; well, Joe always thought so, anyways, so, naturally, any girl would think the same. He could picture it now, Patrick finding some perfect, pretty girl who laughed at his jokes and got all his obscure references the way Joe always did. They'd probably slow dance and sneak off at some point to have a romantic first kiss under a streetlight or something like in all the movies, and Jesus, what if she took his virginity, and-
Joe's chest tightened. He shouldn't have cared. He should've been happy for Patrick. He shouldn't have been thinking of this sort of stuff at all, really, because what did it matter if his step-brother got a cute date who could probably replace Joe in every way? It didn't matter. It didn't matter that Patrick's date was probably going to make Joe completely obsolete and it didn't matter that Joe was going to have to sit in the corner of the gymnasium and watch the two of them have the time of their lives while the entire relationship he had been building with Patrick since middle school crumbled right before his eyes.
Joe took a deep breath. He really was happy for Patrick. He was probably just tired. And frustrated about not finding a date. He'd be fine.
Joe's eyes shot open at the sound of the front door being unlocked. He sat up in his bed, propping himself up by his elbows as the telltale signs of Patrick's footsteps moved up the stairs and towards their shared bedroom. Despite his mood, Joe let a lopsided grin spread across his face as Patrick opened the door. “How'd it go?” he asked.
Patrick shut the door behind him and threw a bouquet of flowers at Joe, landing directly on his chest. “How do you think it went?” he responded sourly.
Joe's goofy grin quickly wiped itself off his face as he sat up properly, watching as Patrick kicked off his shoes. “Wait, did you- did you seriously not get a date?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “You're joking, right?”
“Yeah, joke of the century,” Patrick mumbled as he tossed his jacket onto his own bed to mingle with the pile of laundry already building there.
“Shit,” Joe murmured breathlessly, flopping back down to stare up at the ceiling.
Patrick quickly joined him, throwing himself onto Joe's bed next to him and ending up with his legs tangled awkwardly between the other boy's. Joe didn't mind the lack of personal space; it was kind of a given, anyways, with how long the two had known each other. These days, it was pretty rare for them to even sleep in separate beds. “Tell me about it,” Patrick grumbled. He sighed, turning his head to look at Joe. “What about you?”
Joe shook his head. “No luck. Turns out ‘nerdy Jewish kid with a lisp’ isn't on anyone's list of dream guys.” He shrugged. “Who could've guessed?”
Patrick furrowed his eyebrows. “Seriously?” He turned to his side to face Joe better, propping his head up with his arm. “I figured- I mean, I think you're-” He bit his lip, trying to think, before huffing and shaking his head. “Nevermind. I just- I mean, I thought for sure you'd get a date, y'know? You're… cool.”
Joe turned his head to look at Patrick, eyebrow raised. “I'm cool,” he repeated like he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.
Patrick smiled sweetly. “Yeah, man. Coolest guy I know.”
Joe huffed, turning his head away to face the ceiling, because there was that feeling again. That stupid head-rush-butterflies-in-his-stomach feeling he'd heard repeated in cheap romance movies he and Patrick would sometimes rent out to make fun of. It was ridiculous and impossible and disgusting because Patrick was his step-brother, and if the butterflies he'd been feeling around Patrick ever since he took him to his favorite record store when they first met were anything even remotely close to love, then that meant Joe was disgusting.
Joe couldn't be disgusting. Nobody wanted to be disgusting, of course, but this was different; Joe couldn't. He'd lose everything. What would Patrick think if he found out the little brother he'd been cuddling up with for the past three years had… what, a crush on him? He'd never look at him again. He'd probably beg his dad to divorce Joe's mom and tell everyone at school about his ex-brother's stupid, perverted, incest fantasies, and then he'd really be alone, forget not having a homecoming date.
So, until Joe's brain stopped being able to effectively lie to him, he was normal. He liked his step-brother the way step-siblings are supposed to like each other, and the butterflies in his stomach were just normal little sibling admiration. He'd become pretty good at convincing himself of that ever since high school started.
Joe cleared his throat, gripping the bouquet of flowers in his hands as he sat up. “Guess I should go toss these, huh?” Joe said, brushing his finger over one of the white carnations’ petals absentmindedly.
For a moment, Patrick said nothing. Then, quietly, and without looking at Joe, he replied, “You can keep them if you want.”
Joe twisted his head back to look at Patrick, blinking. “What?”
“You can keep the flowers,” Patrick repeated. “Like, here, in our room.” He bit his lip, glancing at Joe. “Just… seems like a waste to toss them. They're nice flowers. And expensive, too. I mean, seriously.” He frowned, thinking about the cash he'd essentially thrown away on a bouquet of flowers for a girl who had started laughing at him before he'd even had the chance to speak.
Joe swallowed, looking back down at the bouquet in his hand. “Right. Yeah. You're- you're right. We'd totally be wasting these if we just tossed ‘em.” He stood up quickly, making his way towards the door. “I'll go put these in water, then. Be right back.”
Joe considered the flower choice in the bouquet carefully as he filled up a vase with water from the sink. It was all very… romantic. White carnations, pink and white camellias, red tulips, and, surprisingly, one of Joe's favorite flowers, blue hydrangeas.
It was easy to imagine, as he stared down at the bouquet, that Patrick had really, truly chosen these flowers for him, especially with the addition of the hydrangeas. For just a moment, Joe let himself get carried away in a fantasy world where Patrick was something other than his step-brother; his best friend or just another cute boy at school, anyone he was allowed to have a crush on. But then the flowers were in the vase and he was heading back upstairs into reality, where the only reason Joe had these flowers was because it would be a waste to get rid of them. That was real, and the small step into a world where it was anything but, where his step-brother of all people would invite him to homecoming, was only more proof that Joe was simply disgusting and awful.
When Joe walked back into the bedroom, Patrick was still on his bed, staring up at the ceiling blankly, and he remained in this position, silent, as Joe placed the flowers on their windowsill that had otherwise been decorated with an ashtray and a couple of small clay monsters Joe had made during his art class that year. He stepped back and frowned at the bouquet, hands on his hips like an art critic at a museum. “It's kinda fancy for our room, right? The vase? D'you wanna go out and find another one this weekend?” He rocked back and forth on his feet, thinking. “We could find one to paint. Make it fit in better with the rest of our stuff.” When Patrick remained silent, Joe turned his head, half-expecting the other boy to be asleep (the two did oftentimes value their after-school naps), but, still, he was awake, deep in thought as he tapped his fingers on the bedsheets and stared at the ceiling. “Patrick?” Joe asked, moving closer to the bed to sit by Patrick's feet. “Hey,” he started, voice soft, “you don't need to be upset about it, man. There'll be other girls. Ones who aren't total douchebags.”
Patrick shook his head. “No, I'm not upset about her. She's just… some girl. Honestly, I didn't even want to go to homecoming with her, anyways.”
Joe knew Patrick well enough to know that this wasn't a dismissive ‘no’. This was honest; Patrick couldn't care less about being rejected. There was something else on his mind entirely.
“Okay…” Joe started, dragging out the word as he thought of what to ask. “So… what is it?”
Patrick fell back into silence, biting his lip and furrowing his eyebrows as he thought. Joe had to quickly pry his gaze away from his face because, God, Patrick's thinking face was always so cute, and it shouldn't have been. It really shouldn't have been. “I… want to ask… something. I just- don't know how to say it.”
Joe nodded. “Okay.”
Patrick huffed. “It might be weird, the way I say it. I don't know. Just don't laugh. Or… make fun of me, or anything. Okay?”
Joe furrowed his eyebrows. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever genuinely made fun of Patrick; or if he'd ever done that, for that matter. How weird was what Patrick had to say? “Alright. Just, like, take your time, man.”
Patrick nodded, and the two fell back into silence as they each waited for him to say what he wanted to say. After a few moments, Patrick took a breath. “Do you want to go to homecoming, like… together?” Joe could barely even look up from his converse before Patrick jumped to frantically justify his question. “I mean, y'know, I know we're already, like, going together, with Pete and Andy,” he started, words tumbling out of his mouth so fast that Joe was surprised his brain was catching up with his lips enough to even form a legitimate sentence. “But, like, I mean, y'know, together. Like, formally. I mean, it just- it makes sense, y'know, since we don't have dates. But just- y'know, if I, like, ask you, officially, then it's less like we're just two lonely, awkward guys at a dance. Technically, y'know, officially, then, we're going to prom with a-”
Patrick's mouth miraculously stopped working right before he got to the word date. Joe stared at him, eyes wide, mouth parted slightly. He swallowed. “With a what?” he asked shakily, his voice barely above a whisper.
It was a formality. It was a solution to both of their problems of being girlfriendless virgins alone at homecoming for the second and third years in a row, respectively. But that didn't change the fact that Patrick had still asked him. He'd asked him. He didn't call up Pete or Andy to tell them about his genius idea, he'd asked Joe. He'd asked his weird, younger step-brother who spent all his free-time watching cheesy movies and smoking cigarettes and who, frankly, smelled like garbage, to homecoming, and suddenly, formality or no formality, that fantasy of those flowers being for Joe didn't seem that far off anymore.
Patrick blushed profusely, turning his head to the side and letting his glasses squish into his face. “A, um- a- a d-date, I guess,” he stammered quietly. “B-but, it doesn't- I mean, y'know, we're-”
“Step-brothers,” Joe finished for him, his voice wistful and dream-like as he stared at Patrick like he had just personally hung the moon in the sky for him.
Patrick swallowed. “Yeah,” he whispered into the pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut as he shook his head, shooting up suddenly into a sitting position. “Fuck, nevermind. Holy shit, that's- Jesus, that's the dumbest idea I've ever had in my life. I don't know why I- just- forget I said anything. I'm sorry.”
“Yes.”
Patrick stared at Joe, blinking. “...Huh?”
“I'll go. With you. Together.” He nodded determinedly.
Patrick stared at Joe blankly, mouth agape in shock. “Y- wait, you- you will?”
“Yes,” Joe repeated. “Yeah. I'll go. I… want to go. With- with you.” It took more strength than Joe thought he had to keep himself from saying something horrible like I've been having increasingly romantic daydreams about going to this dance with you almost everyday. Right now, this was still a formality. Maybe, maybe, it could be something else, something real, but Joe wasn't going to risk jumping past that line. Not yet, anyways. Right now, this was just the most convenient and readily available solution to each of their problems.
Patrick's eyebrows bunched up in worry and his voice got soft and quiet. “Joe, you don't have to do this just because I'm asking you. I know how weird it is. You can say no.” He sucked in a breath. “You- you should say no.” He paused, then added: “Shouldn't you?”
Joe shook his head. “I'm not saying no. I want to go with you, man. And- it's not weird. It's just… a solution. It's not even technically a date.”
Patrick looked down at his hands thoughtfully. “Yeah…” he murmured.
“And we're not even technically brothers,” Joe added, framing it as a joke by grinning and nudging Patrick's arm, but he wasn't really joking, and, God, part of him — maybe all of him — hoped that Patrick picked up on that.
Patrick took a quick side-glance over towards Joe, biting his lip thoughtfully. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Not technically brothers.” He nodded to himself, like the statement had just confirmed something he had been thinking of.
The two sat silently for a little while longer, Joe staring at Patrick while Patrick stared down at his lap. Joe wondered if the other could hear his heartbeat, thumping loudly in a rhythm that might've been similar to ‘kiss me’ in morse code. He wanted to say something stupid, something that would almost certainly ruin everything, like ‘Can we make it a real date?’ Instead, he stood up, stretched out, and asked, “You wanna go play GTA?”
“Fuck, yeah,” was the response.
☆☆☆☆☆
“Shit, how do you tie these things again?”
Patrick was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, currently undoing his third failed attempt at tying his tie. He could still hear Metallica playing faintly from he and Joe's bedroom, where Joe was currently leaning by the window to smoke a cigarette. “Dude, seriously?” Joe called back. After a few moments, Patrick watched him emerge into the bathroom, an amused look on his face. “You're 16 years old and you still don't know how to tie a tie?”
Patrick huffed, his eyebrows furrowed, as Joe approached him to help him tie his tie. “I don't wear ties. Name one time you've seen me in a tie.”
Joe giggled, his focus on Patrick's collar as he set the tie around his shoulders. “Fair enough. Just watch me, I'll tell you how to do it.”
Patrick would've loved to focus on Joe's words. That ability would've been very helpful at the moment. But, as it was, he could only focus on the fact that he was inches away from Joe's face, and he had that big, goofy smile on him, and his hands kept brushing his neck and his collarbone as he tied his tie, and Patrick was really not focusing on Joe's words at all. I want to kiss him, he realized with shame, not for the first time in his life. He could've done it, too, so easily, if he was braver. Joe was distracted and inches away from his face, so, really, it wouldn't have taken much to grab his face and press his own lips to his. But asking him to homecoming just about met his weekly quota for any sort of bravery, so Patrick stayed still and kept the all-too-common thought of kissing his step-brother to himself.
“Did you get any of that?” Joe asked as he stepped back, clearly noticing Patrick's lack of focus.
“Uh,” Patrick stammered dumbly. “You, uh- you take the- the thing-” He gestured vaguely with his hands. “-and then you, like,- um- shit, yeah, no, I wasn't paying attention.”
Joe laughed, and, despite his embarrassment, Patrick let out a small puff of laughter as well. “It's fine,” Joe said, still smiling. “I'm cool to help you with your ties whenever.”
Patrick nodded, turning his head to double check his reflection in the mirror. “Thanks, man.” He gazed towards Joe again, who was staring at him softly. “Do you know if Pete and Andy are close?”
“Uh,” Joe started, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought. “I don't know. Probably. They said they'd be here around now. D'you have your ticket?”
Patrick turned to fully face Joe again, patting his pants pocket. “Yeah. You?”
Joe turned on his heels to head out of the bathroom, Patrick quickly following behind. “It's on my bed,” he called as he laid back on his bed and grabbed a comic book that had been resting on the bedside dresser jammed in between the two beds.
Patrick nodded, sitting on his own bed. He frowned to himself, leg bouncing non-stop and head hung as he thought. “Cool,” he muttered absently.
Joe was quick to take notice of Patrick's mood. “You alright, man?”
Patrick bit his lip. “People are gonna stare at us.”
Joe set his comic book down on his chest. “People barely know we're step-brothers.”
“Enough people know.”
“We're not even gonna do anything romantic.”
Patrick pursed his lips. Right. This was just a technical date. It wasn't a real date, because that would be weird. It's only purpose was to make the both of them feel less lonely. That was why Patrick had brought it up in the first place. Obviously.
Joe sat up, noticing Patrick's sudden silence. Another moment passed, before:
“...Do you want it to be romantic?”
Patrick's head shot up, eyes wide with fear. “No! N-no. No.” He shook his head frantically. “No, we're- we're brothers. That'd be- that's not-” He took a deep, shaky breath. “It's… wrong.”
“Right,” Joe murmured. He almost seemed… disappointed? Maybe Patrick was just projecting or something, but he could've sworn Joe slouched a bit.
Patrick felt like crying. He was awful. He was a gross, disgusting pervert trying to bring Joe into his weird fantasies. The worst part was, he knew that if he said yes, that he wanted it to be a real, romantic date, Joe would've gone along with it. He would've done all the disgustingly perverted romantic things Patrick wanted him to, all to make him happy. He couldn't let him fall down that rabbit hole. He couldn't let Joe spend the rest of his life feeling awful about himself just because his step-brother was a pervert who couldn't separate familial love from romantic love.
It would just be this. It would be a casual, non-romantic homecoming date between two step-brothers so neither of them would be lonely, and that was it. Nothing would happen, and they'd probably never talk about it again. And that was fine. It was more than Patrick could've asked for, really.
A car honk outside their house, signaling the arrival of Pete and Andy, broke the silence.
Joe looked at Patrick. “Ready?”
Patrick nodded, biting his lip. “Ready.”
The two had told the others of their plan beforehand during band practice the day after Patrick's homecoming invitation. It was… awkward, to say the least, and ended with a lot of follow-up questions, but, at the end of the day, Pete and Andy had been supportive (thank God, because Patrick and Joe had fully been preparing themselves for complete humiliation). Now, as the two stepped into Pete's car, they were greeted with a “Hey, lovebirds,” from the senior, who always took an opportunity to poke fun at anyone readily available.
“Shut up, Pete,” Patrick murmured, clutching his knees in the back seat of the car. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Joe suppressing a smile.
☆☆☆☆☆
Patrick hid his face in his plastic cup of fruit punch, Joe standing next to him, as they stood by the wall watching the gymnasium. “This blows,” Joe said matter-of-factly.
Patrick nodded in agreement. “The band's alright,” Andy piped in from his spot on the bleachers, nose buried in a comic book he'd probably read fifty times before.
“Yeah, alright,” Pete snorted.
Andy turned to look at him, his eyebrows furrowed. “Hey, didn't you have a date?”
Pete pointed towards the crowd. “Yeah, and she's all over me, clearly,” he cracked. Andy followed the direction of his finger, his gaze quickly landing on Pete's date, who was currently grinding against someone who he vividly remembered dunking chocolate milk on his head during lunch last week.
“Ah,” he replied simply, before shoving his face back into his comic book without another word.
“Oh, how sad, now you have to sit at the bleachers with the rest of us,” Patrick said sarcastically, making a show of pouting exaggeratedly at Pete as he talked.
“Hey, no, you guys are on a technical date!” Pete protested. “That's more than us!” He turned to look at Andy. “Andy, will you be my technical date so I feel less like shit?”
Andy, still focused on his comic book, shook his head. “Not a chance.”
Joe tuned them out and went back to staring at Patrick, who had returned to watching the attendees carefully. He was gorgeous, to say the least. He had on a gray tux, one he'd picked out with Joe while they went suit shopping together, and his hair, for once, was gelled back, revealing the mole on his forehead. His glasses, as always, framed his face perfectly. Patrick looked amazing. And standing next to him, Joe looked… ridiculous. Or felt ridiculous, at least. Patrick had told him he looked good, but he didn't really buy it.
Patrick turned his head to face Joe, feeling his eyes on him. “What?” he laughed.
Joe shook his head. “Nothing. Sorry. Just- the suit. It looks good on you.”
Patrick smiled softly. “Thanks. You look good, too.”
Joe prayed to God that he wasn't blushing. “No, it's stupid. I don't know why I got it. I look ridiculous.”
Patrick shook his head. “You're not ridiculous. You're cute.”
Joe blinked. “...Cute?” he asked quietly.
Patrick's eyes went wide, his mouth falling open, like he only just now realized what he'd said. “Holy shit, did I say-” He shook his head frantically. “I mean- no- not- the suit. The suit looks- it's- the colors. The colors are, um- cute. On you. Not- y'know.”
Joe nodded slowly, swallowing. “Right. The colors.” He leaned his head back against the wall, heart racing as he stared at the ceiling. He took a deep breath, furrowed his eyebrows, then asked, “Do you wanna dance?”
Patrick blinked. “What?”
“Do you wanna dance?” Joe asked again, his eyes staying fixed on the ceiling. “I mean, it's- it's a dance, y'know? We might as well… dance.”
Patrick swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Might as well,” he muttered.
Joe looked back at him, grinning. “Awesome.” He plucked Patrick's drink out of his hand, holding it with his own, and set them both on the bleachers next to Pete and Andy. “You guys watch our drinks. Me and Patrick are gonna go dance,” he said with a grin.
Pete wolf-whistled in response as Joe grabbed Patrick by the arm and dragged him towards the dance floor, rolling his eyes. “What an asshole, right?” he asked, although the wide smile on his face suggested to Patrick that he didn't really care about all the teasing.
“Yeah,” Patrick agreed, talking loudly over the music. “Uh, is there a way we're supposed to dance, or…?”
Joe shrugged. “I don't know. Everyone just says you're supposed to, like, feel the rhythm or some shit. Just go with it, I guess.”
Patrick stood awkwardly as he watched Joe ‘go with it’, which basically meant flail his arms and legs around in a movement that might vaguely be described as some sort of dancing. Joe nodded enthusiastically at him, trying to encourage him to join in. This is ridiculous, Patrick thought. Still, rolling his eyes, he joined Joe in dancing, moving around rather unceremoniously to the music.
“See?” Joe asked. “Not that hard!”
Just then, Joe tripped over his pant leg, stumbling forward a couple of steps. Patrick laughed, his eyes crinkling and nose scrunching in a way that Joe had always thought was adorable (and maybe he could admit that to himself now, here, where he'd already been pretending he was on a real date and Patrick wasn't a step too related to him for this to be weird). “Yeah, you make it look super easy, man,” Patrick joked.
“Shut up,” Joe laughed, punching the other boy on the arm lightly.
“No, really!” Patrick insisted as they both fell back into awkward dance. “All those girls you asked to homecoming are totally missing out on those moves, dude.”
Joe bit his lip at a lame attempt to suppress a smile, his eyes soft. After a moment, he scooched a little closer, opening his mouth to speak. “Y'know, I'm glad I went with you. I mean, I'm glad you asked me to go with you. Formally, or whatever.”
Patrick felt his breath catch in his throat. “Yeah, me, too.” He giggled. “I'm glad you said yes. I would've felt like a total freak if you said no.”
Joe prepared himself to say something else, opening his mouth once more to speak, when, suddenly, the music stopped, and the lead singer spoke into the microphone. “Okay, these next couple of songs are gonna be kind of slow, alright? If you don't have a date, you'd better find one now.”
Patrick sighed. “Damn. I was just getting into the whole dancing thing, too.” He shrugged, starting his walk back to the bleachers.
Joe swallowed. “We don't have to stop,” he blurted suddenly.
Patrick turned back to look at him, his face red and his mouth opening and closing a few times awkwardly. “I- wh- Joe, it's slow dancing. For couples,” he explained as if Joe didn't fully understand that.
Joe grinned, trying not to let the overwhelming nervousness he was feeling show on his face. “Uh-huh. And we're on a technical date.” His heart skipped a beat when he said that. “Which makes us a technical couple.”
Joe, frankly, had no idea where he'd gotten the balls to say this. He was asking his step-brother to slow dance with him for Christ's sake, and he'd managed to bring it up without so much as stuttering or sweating at all. Patrick blushed even further, stepping a little closer. “People are gonna stare.” He shook his head. “Pete and Andy are gonna stare, dude. They're probably looking at us right now.” He turned his head towards their direction and, confirming his suspicions, Pete and Andy were both staring straight at them past the people around them, Pete smiling widely.
Joe turned his head to look at them, too, waving. Pete waved back, excitedly mouthing something that Joe couldn't quite make out. He was sure it wasn't anything bad, though. He looked back at Patrick, biting his lip nervously. “It's not a big deal or anything. It's just a dance.” He grinned, stepping back. “Wait, wait, let me, like, ask you formally.” He cleared his throat, holding his hand out for Patrick to take, and put on a ridiculous, overly-snobby voice for comedic effect. “May I have this dance?”
Patrick couldn't help but laugh despite the way his head was racing. Joe wanted to dance with him. To a stupid, cheesy, romantic slow song for couples. It was a joke, obviously, it had to be, because Joe was his step-brother. But still, Joe's eyes lit up when Patrick grabbed his hand, and he had what might've been the biggest smile he'd seen on his face all night, so even if it was a joke, it made Joe happy, and Patrick wanted to make Joe happy more than anything.
Patrick leaned his head onto Joe's shoulder, like he'd seen girls do when they slow danced in movies. “Do you know how to slow dance?” Joe murmured. The proximity of his voice to Patrick's ear made him shutter.
Patrick shook his head. “No,” he muttered back. “Don't you just, like… sway?”
Patrick could practically hear the grin on Joe's face when he replied. “Sometimes. There's other stuff, too, though.” He leaned his head back, prompting Patrick to do the same. “This is great, I get to teach you!”
Patrick laughed, furrowing his eyebrows. “Wait, you know how to slow dance?” he asked. “Since when?”
Joe shrugged. “Figured I'd learn for the dance, y'know? It's not hard or anything. You'll get it in, like, two seconds.” He brought his hands down to Patrick's waist, and Patrick tried not to think about how romantic this all was. “Do you wanna be the girl or the guy?”
Patrick blinked. “Uh-”
“In all the tutorials I saw, girls always have their arms, like, wrapped around the guy's neck or whatever, y'know what I mean? And guys just have their arms on the chick's waist,” Joe clarified. “So, like, where do you want your arms?”
“Oh,” Patrick started, nodding. He placed his arms across Joe's shoulders the way he'd remembered seeing in movies, and he suddenly felt much closer to Joe than he was a minute ago. “I'll be the girl, then,” he replied with a goofy smile.
Joe grinned back. Patrick desperately tried to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat. “Nice. Just-” He looked down at their feet, prompting Patrick to do the same. “-do what I do, I guess,” he murmured. “When I step forward, you step back.” He took a small step forward with his left foot, prompting Patrick to step back with his right. “And then, like, when I step to the side, you do it, too- yeah, like that. And then, like- back, forward. And then you just repeat it.”
Joe was right about being able to understand the dance quickly. It took a couple of rounds of awkwardly stepping on each other's toes and giggling each time one of them made a mistake, but, soon, neither of them even had to look down at their feet to know they were in sync. It was also shockingly easy, while he was this close to Joe, for Patrick to forget that anyone else was in the room with them at all. In fact, he couldn't even remember why he was so worried about being stared at earlier. Right now, in his mind, it was just him and the prettiest boy he'd ever seen in his life, and as far as Patrick was concerned, the rest of the world could choke. He bit his lip and leaned in close to Joe's ear so he could speak to him without having to speak too loudly over the music. “Y'know, I always thought slow dancing had more hand-holding than this,” he noted.
Joe hummed. “Not this version, but I think people hold hands when they slow dance sometimes, yeah.” He paused, then inhaled deeply before speaking again. “Do, uh-” He swallowed. “Do you wanna hold hands?”
Patrick's breath caught in his throat. Before his brain was able to start its regular mile-long scolding session about how disgusting he was for ever wanting to do anything like this with his step-brother, he answered, quick and sure of himself. “Yes.” He swallowed. “Yeah, I wanna- I mean, if you-”
“Yeah,” Joe replied, just as fast. “You can- we can- as long as you're not worried about getting stared at.”
Patrick pulled his head back, looking at Joe. God, Joe. Those wide, pretty eyes, those lips he'd been trying to keep himself from kissing for the past three years, and he knew his answer. “I don't care.” He slid his right arm off of Joe's shoulder, holding his hand between them for the other boy to take. “People can stare. I want-” He stopped himself, watching Joe remove one of his hands from his waist to interlock it with Patrick's, before he continued quietly, staring at his step-brother with shy, terrified eyes. “I want this.”
It was a horrifying thing to admit out loud, especially to Joe himself, and a big part of Patrick hoped that his little brother had missed what exactly ‘this’ meant. The way his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised told him that he'd gotten the message loud and clear, however; but he didn't let go. He didn't take his hand away, he didn't shove Patrick away from him, he didn't laugh or yell in his face. He kept dancing, the rhythm just as perfect as it was a minute ago, his fingers still tangled with Patrick's. “Do you mean-” he started in a whisper. “-I mean, are you talking about-” He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but his mouth chose to fail him every time.
Patrick sucked in a deep, shaky breath. “Um- at home, when- when you asked if I wanted this to be romantic,” he started, Joe hanging onto his every word, “I didn't- I didn't know what to say. If I said no, I would've-” He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see Joe's reaction as he spoke. “-I would've been lying. But I knew- I mean, I thought- if I said yes, I was worried you would just try and go along with it to make me happy. I didn't want that. I don't want that. You don't have to… do anything with me. But, Joe, I-” He swallowed, eyes still shut tight as he lowered his voice to a tiny, shaky whisper. “I r- I really like you. Like, more than I should.” He swallowed, his heart thumping in his chest. “I'm sorry.”
Patrick only realized the song had stopped when Joe stopped dancing and Patrick stumbled over his feet. “Patrick,” Joe started quietly as the older boy regained his footing. “Are- are you being serious or are you just being an asshole?”
Patrick pried his eyes open, looking at Joe with furrowed eyebrows. “...Being an asshole?” he repeated slowly.
Joe swallowed nervously, staring at Patrick with wide, bright eyes, and spoke softly so no one else would hear him. “I- I really like you, too, man. I've had a crush on you for, like, as long as I've known you, I think.”
Patrick's eyes widened. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as his brain processed what was just said. Joe had a crush on him. It was insane. It shouldn't have been real. Patrick thought that at any moment he was going to wake up from a very nice dream about dancing with his step-brother and then spend the rest of the day in the real world depressed and guilt-ridden. But it never happened. He never woke up. Joe stayed right there, his hand still connected to Patrick's despite the fact that they'd stopped dancing altogether. “Seriously?” was all he managed to get out, whispered and hopeful.
Joe nodded, biting his lip awkwardly. “I- I thought you would hate me.”
Patrick shook his head frantically. “I wouldn't. I don't. I-” He ran his free hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. “God, this is- I mean, I thought-” He shook his head again, laughing awkwardly. “This is insane,” he settled on finally, the only proper thought in his head at the moment.
Joe let out a puff of laughter, nodding. “I know. I-” He turned his head to the side, eyeing something outside of the crowd and biting his lip thoughtfully. “Do, uh-” He looked back at Patrick. “Do you wanna go outside?”
It took Patrick a moment to answer, his brain still working through the fact that this was Joe, looking him in the eye and telling him he liked him. “Out- outside? Uh-” He nodded before he could put together any real words. “Uh- yeah. Yeah, outside. Sure, of course. Let's go.”
Joe giggled, wasting no time in pulling Patrick through the crowd and back towards the bleachers where Pete and Andy still sat, moving gently to the music as they watched the crowd of high schoolers dancing in front of them. “Hey,” Joe called out, snatching his drink from beside Pete and taking a swig before setting it back down.
Pete and Andy waved. “How was the dancing?” Andy asked.
“Fine,” Joe replied quickly, nodding. “Uh- so, um- me and Patrick are gonna go outside. I gotta, like, take a smoke break. Could you guys watch the door for us so we aren't, like, locked out?”
The corner of Pete's lips twitched with the kind of grin that typically meant he was up to something. “You're taking a smoke break with Patrick?”
Joe furrowed his eyebrows. “Uh, yeah.”
Andy's eyes lit up like he'd just caught onto what Pete was doing. “Patrick doesn't smoke,” he added.
“So?” Patrick asked defensively. “I'm going out there to hang out with him.”
Joe shot Pete a look which Pete promptly ignored. “Do you guys always sneak off to hang out alone?” he asked, a wide grin on his face.
“Oh, my God,” Patrick muttered, instinctively attempting to shrink into his body as much as possible.
“It's just a smoke break, Pete,” Joe replied through gritted teeth. “You take smoke breaks all the time.”
Pete shrugged nonchalantly, looking back at the crowd. “Oh, yeah, I do take smoke breaks. And I always take them with guys who don't smoke,” he said sarcastically.
“Uh-huh, and there's never any sort of ulterior motive behind sneaking off with these guys,” Andy added.
Pete looked back up at Andy, nodding. “Yeah, it's totally just to smoke with a guy who wouldn't even touch a cigarette at gunpoint. And we’re always going alone.”
Andy pushed up his glasses. “At night.”
“With a guy who I’ve conveniently-”
“Are you gonna stand by the fucking door for us or not?” Joe blurted, staring daggers at the both of them.
Andy giggled, setting his comic book next to him and hopping off of the bleachers with a grin. “Yeah, sure.” He grabbed Pete by the arm, dragging him unceremoniously out of his seat. “C’mon, man, don’t act like you have anything better to do.”
“Thanks, man,” Joe said as they approached the exit door nearby.
“We’ll be quick,” Patrick added with a small smile.
“Probably,” Joe shrugged. “Maybe. You’ll just have to see.”
Pete rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“Hey, just, whatever you guys are doing out there, don’t get caught,” Andy said. “I don’t have bail money and I don’t think juvie lets kids out for band practice.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. We’ll be right back.”
Pete and Andy waved them out as Joe pushed the door open, immediately being hit with the cold, fresh air. He’d almost forgotten how hot it was in that gymnasium, but he was suddenly very uncomfortably aware of how sweaty he was at the moment from all the combined body heat back inside. “So,” Patrick started as the two walked over towards a bench resting against the wall next to them. “Do you think they, like, really know or were they just being jerks?”
Joe shrugged as he sat down, loosening his grip on Patrick’s hand to fish a cigarette and lighter out of his jacket pocket (Patrick, in all honesty, had sort of forgotten they had been holding hands that entire time, but he now missed the sudden lack of Joe’s hand intertwined with his own). “Pete definitely knows, so Andy probably does, too.” He flicked the lighter a couple times until the flame finally appeared and he held it up to the end of his cigarette. “I mean, they’re not idiots. Andy probably figured it out when we told them we were going to homecoming together like this.”
Patrick watched as Joe hung his arms loosely across his lap, lighter in one hand and cigarette in the other. “What about Pete?” he asked.
Joe pressed his cigarette between his lips once more before answering, his leg bouncing rapidly. “Pete’s, uh,” he started, lowering his cigarette before licking his lips nervously. “Pete’s known for a few months now.”
Patrick blinked. “A few months?”
Joe laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, we, uh, got drunk a while back and I accidentally told him I had, like, a massive crush on you.” He scratched the back of his head with the hand still holding the lighter. “He didn’t care, though. I don’t think either of them do. We’d be, like, way out of the band by now if they did.”
Patrick stared at Joe in awe, waiting for the right thing to say. Eventually, he was able to settle on, “You like me.”
Joe turned his head to look at Patrick, blinking, before his eyes softened. “I- I like you, yeah,” he replied quietly.
Patrick scooted a little closer, his eyes wide and filled with hope. “You like me,” he repeated softly. “You really- you actually-” He swallowed, looking down at his lap awkwardly. “I thought I was a pervert. I thought I was gonna, like, groom you or something.”
“Dude, you’re, like, a year older than me.”
“But I’m still older than you. And you’re my brother.”
“Only technically.” Joe tapped the ash off of his cigarette and tilted his head to gaze at Patrick. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. I mean, if our parents didn’t marry each other, we’d just be… two guys.”
“I guess,” Patrick murmured.
“Hey.” Joe took one last puff from his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and stamping it out, then grabbed Patrick’s shoulder gently. “I like you, Patrick. I’m serious. I’ve liked you for, like, a really long time. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
Patrick gazed up at Joe, his eyes soft. “Really?”
“Really.”
Patrick swallowed. “We can’t tell anyone. About… any of this.”
“I know. Just us. And-” Joe looked back at the door they’d walked through, the noises from the dance still sounding faintly from inside. “Pete and Andy, I guess, since they already know.”
“Yeah, them, too, I guess,” Patrick agreed awkwardly.
Joe looked back at Patrick, biting his lip. His gaze shifted from his eyes to his lips as he thought. “Um, can I-” He cut himself off, furrowing his eyebrows.
Patrick cocked his head to the side. “Hm?”
“Can I, like, uh, kiss you, man?
Patrick blinked, his eyes wide. “Oh! Um- w- I, uh-” he stammered, his face suddenly beet red.
“It’s just- I mean, you can say no, obviously, but I’ve wanted to kiss you for, like, three years and now I’m finally, like, allowed to kinda, y’know, and it kinda feels like I might, like, explode if I don’t kiss you right now,” Joe continued, his mouth moving faster than his brain could properly think. “But, uh, you can say no. Obviously.”
Patrick shook his head. “No, I- I mean, yeah, you can- you can kiss me. I just-” He lowered his voice, embarrassed. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
Joe smiled. “I kinda figured. You woulda told me about something like that.” He laughed breathily, leaning in close. “I haven’t either, so, y’know. We’re on an even field or whatever.”
“Yeah,” Patrick murmured, staring at Joe’s lips almost on instinct.
Joe inched his face closer, bringing his hand down and gently cupping it against Patrick’s waist. Then, gently and unsure of what to do, he pressed his lips to Patrick’s, the tips of their noses squishing together awkwardly. It certainly wouldn’t have gone down in history books as the greatest kiss in the world, and Joe had accidentally gotten more of Patrick’s philtrum involved in the process than he would’ve liked, but it was a kiss nonetheless, and one that the two would likely keep as a positive memory in their minds for the rest of their lives. But, soon, Joe disconnected, his eyes remaining on the older boy’s as he separated their lips. It was quiet for a while, both of them remaining silent as they stared at each other. Finally, Joe broke the silence, muttering, “Was that, um… okay?”
Patrick nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, um… can we do that, like, more? Like, all the time? If- if it’s okay with you, I mean.”
Joe giggled. “Yeah, dude. It is so okay with me.”
It was Patrick who leaned in for a kiss this time, although he didn’t quite make it to Joe’s lips, landing somewhere by the corner of his mouth, but Joe appreciated the gesture nonetheless, and they were quick to readjust so that their lips interlocked better. They could’ve stayed here like this forever, or ditched Pete and Andy and gone back home where they could be alone until late at night when their parents got back from their dinner outing. But suddenly, the exit door swung open, startling Patrick and Joe from their kiss.
“Guys- oh- shit, sorry,” Pete called from the now open door.
“Dude,” Joe complained, glaring at him.
Pete giggled, unable to get out what he was originally going to say. Andy’s head popped out from behind him. “Some guy tripped over the snack table and got totally covered in fruit punch,” he called. “We figured you guys would wanna see it personally before it’s all over MySpace and shit.”
Patrick huffed, looking from Joe to the door. He did really want to see what happened, if he was being honest with himself. “You guys can kiss each other whenever you want, you live together,” Pete reasoned, rolling his eyes. “This is, like, a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Hurry up.”
Joe rolled his eyes, but tucked his lighter back into his jacket pocket and grabbed Patrick’s hand anyways, urging him to get up. “C’mon. It’s cold out here anyways.”
Patrick followed his younger brother without hesitation and for the first time, he didn’t try to push down the butterflies in his stomach, and he didn’t hear an angry, guilt-ridden voice in his head telling him to pull away. For the first time, he felt like he was allowed to do this, that they were allowed to hold each other and love each other the way they did in their own little world. And that was all Joe and Patrick needed, really: their own little world.