Work Text:
April 27, 2012
Patrick’s hands were loaded down with a number of plastic Target bags but when he recognized the soft trills of the personalized harp ringtone he had set for his mother, he hurried to pull his phone from his back right pocket and answer. “Hey, Mom.”
“Happy birthday, Ricky! How are you?”
“Aww, thanks Mom.” Patrick smiled as he replied to his mom, balancing the phone on his left shoulder as he shifted the handful of plastic bags to his left forearm so he could fish his apartment key out of his pocket. Talk about being a master at multitasking. “I’m doing good. How are you?”
“Oh, you know, the same. Just missing my baby on his birthday. I still wish you could have made the trip home this year. I was going to have some of your cousins pass by so we could have a little get together to celebrate.”
Patrick placed all of the Target bags on the floor, giving up on his struggle in order to focus on the phone call with his mother. “I know, Mom. I wish I didn’t have to cancel the trip either but some work related stuff came up unexpectedly and...well, it’s pretty big.”
Mrs. Stumph let out a small, unappreciative huff. “I do understand, honey, but I just miss you so much. Plus, you shouldn’t be spending your birthday alone.”
“I know, Mom, but trust me, it’s perfectly fine. I’m actually looking forward to just sitting around and doing nothing tonight. I’ve been stuck in the studio all day and I’m pretty exhausted. Besides, you know how much I hate parties or making a fuss about my birthday. I really don’t mind this at all.”
“I know. You’ve always been so difficult about that when you were growing up. There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of socializing, honey.”
Patrick rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw, poised and ready to start up the age old argument with his mother before she interrupted with a much appreciated change of topic.
“Oh, I almost forgot! I saw you on that episode of House a couple of weeks ago. Oh, honey! You did such a great job and you looked absolutely adorable! Now, I’m still not a fan of that new hair color but you did such wonderful job on that show!”
Patrick could feel his face start to flush. He didn’t make a big deal out of that television appearance but he knew his mom probably had a little viewing party the night it aired. He could picture it now: his mother’s living room full of the Midwest Sector of the Mom Squad, squealing and gushing over his barely five minutes of screen time in the episode. “It was just a bit part, Mom. It really wasn’t a big deal. I had maybe ten lines altogether.”
“Oh, hush! You were amazing and you need to just let me be proud of you.”
“Okay, okay.” Patrick chuckled, knowing it was pointless to convince his mother otherwise. “Look, Mom, I’m home now and I gotta get going but thank you so much for calling. I really do appreciate it and I love you.”
“I love you too, honey. Happy birthday and try to see when you can fly out for a visit. I miss you, baby.”
“I will, I promise. I’ll let you know when I have another free block of time so I can fly in. I love you.”
“Love you, too. Bye, honey.”
Patrick ended the call and shoved his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. It warmed his heart that his mom called to wish him a happy birthday but he was exhausted and just wanted to fix a quick dinner and watch television until he fell asleep. He finally fished his apartment key out of his front pocket and grabbed all of the plastic bags that were lying at his feet and proceeded to let himself inside his apartment.
Once the front door was opened, Patrick was distinctly aware that something was very off. He closed the door and hung his keys on the hook by the alarm panel before placing the armful of bags on the floor and grabbing the first item he could use as a weapon. He was very distinctly aware that there was someone inside his house and judging from the smell in the air they were...cooking?
“Who’s in here?” Patrick yelled, holding tightly onto a large umbrella and staying close to the front door in case he needed to bolt.
“Trick? I’m in the kitchen!”
What the fuck…
”Pete? Is that you?” Patrick put the umbrella back down, leaning it up against the wall behind the front door. “What the fuck are you doing here? How the fuck did you get in here?”
Patrick started to make his way down the hallway towards the kitchen but before he could reach the next room, he was greeted by Pete.
Who was apparently completely nude except for a ridiculous looking ruffled lavender gingham apron with “This Is Going To Be Delicious” embroidered across the front in a lovely cursive font.
Patrick’s mouth instantly watered.
“I used the spare key you gave me when you first moved in. I figured you haven’t had a need to change the locks since the last time I was over and thankfully I as correct.” Pete was leaning up against the far wall and grinning shyly, peering through his dark lashes with a very put upon coy expression. Patrick was frozen in place and having a very difficult time processing what he was seeing.
“Pete...why the fuck are you naked?”
Pete walked his fingers up of his right hand up along the wall, stretching his arm upwards, elongating his body, and looking every bit like a sleek panther. He put one leg in front of the other, pointing his toes.
“Naked? I’m not naked, silly boy.” Pete feigned a shocked expression. “You see, the thing is, I wanted to surprise you by making you a homemade birthday dinner. But it was getting too messy and I didn’t want to get my nice clothes all dirty so I decided to just use the apron instead. Plus, it’s just so hot in the kitchen. I figured this would solve both problems.”
Pete was revelling in the shocked expression on Patrick’s face.
It was taking so much for Patrick to be practicing this level of self control right now. If he wasn’t so stunned, so completely frozen into inaction by the sheer shock of the situation, Patrick would definitely have been screaming at Pete...and them throwing him up against the nearest wall and fucking him straight into next year. The singer had long ago professed his feelings for the bassist in a very hazy and very drunken moment around Valentine’s Day 2008. It had taken Patrick quite a few months to come to terms with the realization that he was hopelessly in love with his best friend and since they were spending the romantic holiday away from their homes, and therefore sans girlfriends, well...they were both next level drunk and Patrick decided it was now or never to start his telling secrets.
Imagine the devastation Patrick felt when Pete’s reply was to tell him that he just found out that Ashlee was pregnant and they had decided that would be getting married in May.
It really was inevitable that the hiatus would happen. Pete and Patrick’s relationship quickly started to become volatile. Patrick tried his hardest to endure feeling betrayed, humiliated, and completely slighted while Pete was forced to suffer in silence, marrying his pregnant girlfriend, and doing everything in his power to put on the facade of “happy family man” while the entire time all he wanted was to reciprocate his feelings for Patrick.
Say what you want about Pete, but he really felt he was doing the absolute best for everyone involved.
However, a house built of lies was sure to crumble. Pete eventually came clean to Ashlee about the real reason he married her and then confessed his longstanding feelings for Patrick. Ashlee took the news in stride and was not surprised in the least. They were always good friends but neither really loved each other in “that way”. After the divorce, Pete continued to keep his distance while he healed and adjusted. Patrick was in the middle of promoting and touring Soul Punk so he didn’t think the time was right to reach out to the singer. It wasn’t until a very cryptic and terrifying blog post went up in February 2012 that Pete decided to force his way back into Patrick’s life.
Pete showed up on Patrick’s doorstep with a messenger bag full of notebooks and a bottle of Glenlivet Nadurra not too long after reading about how his best friend felt that “everyone liked him better fat” and since then it was like everything between them had reset.
“You said you were going to be out of town this weekend with Bronx. What happened?” Patrick was still standing several feet down the hallway, frozen in place. He couldn’t bring himself to take even a single step closer to Pete. He really didn’t trust himself right now.
“Diversionary tactics.” Pete stated simply with a shrug. “I wanted to surprise you. You’re not an easy one to surprise, you know.”
Pete started to slink away from the wall and cocked his head towards the kitchen. “Come on, Trick. Dinner should be ready in a few minutes.”
Still riveted to his spot, Patrick watched in what felt like horror as Pete turned around to walk back into the kitchen and saw what he was wearing underneath the apron...
A pair of delicate lacy lavender boy short panties that perfectly matched the fucking apron.
When he finally reached the kitchen, Pete called out, “Tricky! Come and get it!”
Patrick needed to think fast. This was it. The signals were all there (and lord knows Pete is never one for subtle). Neither were in a relationship, they had been hanging out actively for a few months, and even started to trade some very flirtatious late night texts. Neither one had ever brought up what they were feeling; Patrick was too afraid of another life-altering rejection and he just assumed Pete never felt that way in the first place.
However, it was pretty fucking crystal clear that Pete was indeed feeling that sort of way.
Needing a moment to steel his nerves, Patrick went back to the front door and gathered the bags that he had left there when he first arrived. “I’ll be right back, Pete. I just need to put some bags away in the bedroom.”
“Okay! Don’t keep me waiting, Trick!”
No, he wasn’t going to keep Pete waiting. In fact, Patrick was the one had been kept waiting for all these years and he wasn't about to let another moment slip by.
**
Patrick was trying to play it cool. He really was.
Okay, so Pete’s intentions were so far beyond obvious now. That line about not wearing clothes because “cooking is messy” and “it’s too hot”? Yeah...bold faced lie. The thermostat was set at a very cool and comfortable 71 degrees (which, in fact, is far colder than the usual 74 degrees Patrick keeps the house set at) so he KNOWS Pete fiddled with the settings. That motherfucker always did get hot so easily. Oh fuck, he’s so fucking HOT…
Also, a home cooked birthday dinner simply consisted of a “homemade” baby portobello and kalamata black olive pizza (the dough was store bought so there was literally no mess to be made...even Pete can handle throwing sauce, cheese, and toppings onto a ready made crust without a fuss).
Plus, Pete was being VERY overt in displaying his body. Patrick was seated on one of the chairs at the kitchen table watching Pete “cook”; the dark haired man making quite a show of leaning over and peeking into the oven to make sure the cheese didn’t burn. Mmm hmm...very subtle.
When the pizza was ready, Pete took it from the oven to cool. While they waited, Pete very happily began cleaning up; wiping down the countertops and washing the few dishes that were in the sink. Every few minutes, Pete would glance over at Patrick to gage his reaction. Patrick was trying to keep calm and expressionless, wanting to seem unphased and unaffected by Pete’s actions. Yeah, seemed like this was going to be a sure thing but Patrick still harbored some of those old insecurities about himself and the scars of being rejected so magnificently last time...well, those scars were still red and raised even after all these years.
Pete was putting his all into his little performance; preening and presenting himself like some ridiculous bird. He knew Patrick better than he knew himself and he could tell from how closely they reconnected and some very interesting late night flirtatious texts that the singer still had those feelings. He had been trying to figure out how to bring up the topic for a few weeks now and decided that a birthday surprise would probably be his best bet. Fuck conversations, Pete Wentz was all about that grand gesture.
Patrick just continued to watch. There wasn’t much actual conversation going on. Mostly, just Pete babbling about random things as he arched his back or stretched his legs while Patrick sat at the table watching with dark, predatory eyes and taking slow sips from the tumbler of whiskey Pete poured for him.
Patrick was starting to feel the first waves of warmth inside his belly thanks to the glass of liquid courage and decided he was going to finally make a move in Pete’s game.
“The pizza needs to cool a bit longer. Why don’t you come sit down over here.” Patrick pushed his chair out a little bit then patted his lap.
Pete actually hesitated for a moment, looking a little nervous for the first time that evening.
Oh fuck. Did Patrick read this wrong? Was Pete just being a joking little shit? Was he actually just fucking around?
Immediately, Patrick’s courage completely deflated. “Uh, Pete? You okay? Did I...did I read this wrong?”
Pete still appeared to be a little nervous but he looked up into Patrick’s face and started to walk across the room to where the blonde was sitting. “You didn’t read this wrong at all, babe.”
Pete leaned down and wrapped his arms around Patrick’s neck and began to straddle the singer’s lap. “No, you didn’t read anything wrong. This has been a long time coming.”
Patrick’s arms automatically wrapped around Pete’s back, clutching at warm, heated skin. Pete put his full weight down on Patrick’s lap, rolling his hips with a hiss and a squeak.
And that’s when Patrick felt it. The blonde’s hands immediately went down and grabbed Pete’s ass, fingers of his right hand trailing lower to investigate the protrusion he felt on his lap. “Holy fuck. Pete…”
“Yeah…”
Patrick’s confidence was immediately completely restored. “Oh, you are a filthy little bitch, aren’t you?” he growled as he mercilessly squeezed Pete’s ass. Pete was balancing his weight over Patrick’s lap, careful not to sit himself down fully again. The pressure inside of him coupled with the dizzying excitement of “oh my gods it’s happening...it’s finally happening” was driving the bassist insane.
Pete’s eyes were closed and he was holding onto Patrick for dear life. His apron covered chest was brushing up against his best friend’s as he rubbed and stroked the back of the singer’s neck.
“Pete, look at me.” Patrick’s hands stilled on Pete’s ass, holding him close. Pete opened his dark, hazel eyes and looked deeply into Patrick’s murky blue/green/gold one’s. “You know what this means to me. Are you absolutely sure? This is it for me, you know.”
Pete smiled and leaned in to whisper into Patrick’s ear. “Me too, Trick.”
Pete leaned back and gazed at Patrick for a few more moments. Patrick was running his hands softly over the firm rounds of Pete’s ass and smiling. The blonde lifted his right hand to pull at the apron strings tied behind Pete’s back. With a few tugs, the ruffly gingham covering was released and Patrick watched as the material with the words “This Is Going To Be Delicious” fell to the floor.
You’re goddamned right this is gonna be delicious.
Patrick’s hand smoothed up the expanse of Pete’s back until he reached the back of his neck and began pulling his face forwards. They were barely a breath apart and Patrick whispered, “Come to my room with me?”
“But what about dinner? It should be cooled off by now.”
“Pete...baby...I’ve waited forever for you. Honestly, you’re the only thing I’m hungry for right now. Please...come to bed with me?” Patrick’s left hand wandered farther down, fingertips pressing down on the base of the plug, pushing the toy further into Pete, reigniting every already over sensitive nerve into an almost painful awakening.
“Yeah...yeah, okay.”
It was a little difficult for Pete to maneuver himself off of Patrick’s lap and make the short walk to the bedroom but soon they were there and Patrick was every so gently lying Pete out on top of the comforter. He was spread out and beautiful, dressed in nothing but those lavender panties. Patrick just drank in the sight for a few moments; he had dreamed of having this for ages but had long ago come to terms that this would never be a reality he could experience. But here he is, watching his best friend laid out on his bed, one arm under his head and the other mindlessly rubbing his cock from the outside of the straining silk material.
In Patrick’s fantasies, their first time was in a fancy hotel room, illuminated by the glow of candlelight. Maybe there were rose petals covering the bed and soft jazz playing. Maybe a bubble bath in an oversized jacuzzi and some champagne. Maybe a sensual massage. His fantasy was the cheesiest of cliches, but Patrick was a teenager when he first started having visions of being with Pete.
His messy bedroom was a far cry from that teenage dream but he did have a large jar candle on his dresser. He lit that and turned off the artificial light overhead and when he turned back to face the bed, Pete looked like a warm, ethereal beauty in the flickering glow. Candle light certainly suited him.
Patrick was quick to shed his clothing and join Pete on the bed. They still had yet to kiss but Patrick wanted to remove all restrictive barriers before he lost his mind. The blonde slowly crawled over Pete’s body, leaning down onto his elbows, hands cradling the short black strands of Pete’s hair at the top of his head. Patrick was using all of his his upper arm strength to hover over the bassist below him; the only real point of contact being his hands.
Patrick just held himself, staring into Pete’s warm eyes, softly petting his hair and smiling. Their chests were close; still no skin to skin contact but Pete could feel Patrick’s heartbeat fluttering and making disruptions in the small space of air between them.
And just like that, Patrick could feel the years of pain and heartache and longing and rejection heal completely in those moments as they started into one another’s eyes. It was all okay now. They were finally past it all and were able to come together now that the time was just right.
“I’m so sorry for everything that went down but all of that bullshit had to happen to us, Trick. We needed to go through all of that and find each other again. But It’s okay now. We’re here now.”
Patrick was so close to tears, overwhelmed by everything he was feeling. “Reading my mind again, huh?”
“As always, baby.” Pete’s wandering hands travelled up to caress Patrick’s face.
“Oh yeah? What am I thinking about right now?”
Hell yeah. Pete was more than happy to take the bait on that line. “You’re thinking about this.”
The dark haired man closed his eyes and pulled Patrick down for a kiss. Soft and slow, delicate and inquisitive, they discovered one another’s mouths. They took their time, learning a brand new secret language in their kiss, savoring their first union.
After a few minutes (due to a combination of increasing lust and a decreasing ability in Patrick’s upper arm strength) the singer pressed his entire body down onto Pete’s frame. The moment their hips met, Patrick’s completely nude form meeting the hot, hard press of Pete’s lingerie covered dick, they both erupted into a passionate fit of grasping/pulling/clawing. And fuck if Patrick wasn’t just a walking ball of cheesy cliche but he absolutely loved furiously making out while dry humping this beautiful man below him. This was so much better than any other first times he ever experienced because it was a series of firsts with the one person he ever was truly in love with.
Patrick pushed himself up and started to kiss his way down Pete’s body. As much as he enjoyed seeing Pete in these lovely lavender panties, he wanted to get that final barrier away from them. He very carefully gathered a bit of the waistband between his teeth and began to pull down. Pete was more than happy to help by raising his hips off the bed and pulling the material from underneath himself. Once the fabric was removed, Patrick sat back on his heels, brought the panties to his face and inhaled. They didn’t really smell like much; just the faintest whisper of sweet musk since Pete had not been wearing them that long.
“Jesus, Patrick. I don’t know if I should feel weirded out or turned on by you sniffing my panties.”
Patrick took the lavender silk and very carefully folded it in half before leaning over to open his nightstand and placing it inside the drawer. Once that was done, the blonde man reached farther back and retrieved his bottle of personal lubricant before closing the drawer.
There were a million and one things Patrick wanted to do to Pete. He wanted to explore every inch of his body with his mouth; tasting his way into every discovery. Later, he thought to himself. Right now, he wanted to just jump into the deep end.
There were no more words being exchanged; everything being communicated through dark gazes and intense caresses. Patrick sat himself between Pete’s spread thighs, watching as the base of the plug moved with every breath Pete took and just looked over the man below him. He reached between Pete’s legs and slowly, carefully started to pull the toy out, making Pete grimace a little as it happened. Once it was removed, Patrick coated his fingers with lube and worked himself into Pete’s body while taking the bassist’s dick into his mouth.
Fuck, he did taste so fucking delicious.
Patrick would have been happy to do this forever. He had spent an eternity longing for Pete and was content to spend a lifetime kneeling before him, worshiping his body with his mouth.
Pete, however, wanted much more.
Tapping impatiently at the singer’s shoulder and biting the inside of his cheeks to help suppress himself, Pete communicated his need for Patrick to stop.
Patrick nodded and reluctantly pulled away, giving the head of Pete’s shining prick a soft kiss. Leaning back, he retrieved the lube and began to slick himself up. He wanted to make a show of it; stroking and moaning and his hand rolled over the glistening head of his cock, but he had waited too long and was in no mood to tease.
Holding onto his slicked up cock, Patrick leaned over his quivering boyfriend (holy shit, boyfriend!) and lined himself up against Pete’s ass. Gazing deeply at one another and smiling, Patrick began to press in while closing his eyes and capturing Pete’s mouth in a very soft kiss.
Everything was so slow and careful; Patrick rocking himself in and out of Pete’s body in a steady 6/8 time signature...their bodies joined together and moving in an erotic waltz. They were lost to one another, no longer individual sentient beings...they were now one...a spark in the ether as a million baby universes burst into creation deep inside of their chests. With every kiss, every moan, every fallen tear, every thrust, they were able to stop time and space and create an eternity in this moment.
Panting, they murmured confessions of love and praise passed between their stolen breaths. And as the tempo of their hearts jackhammered faster, so did the matching time of their hips. Patrick pressed himself as deeply as he could into Pete and wrapped his hand around the dark man’s cock. Bodies flushed as close as possible, the singer rocked back and forth, never pulling out, just pressing, pressing, pressing relentlessly into Pete’s prostate as they both howled and moaned.
They came together and fell apart simultaneously; a crashing crescendo of blinding light and sonic purity.
Shuddering and shaking, they wrapped around one another; kissing and giggling and caressing each other as they slowly floated back down to earth.
Patrick sat up enough to pull the spare blanket from where it was folded along the foot of the bed and cocooned them underneath the soft fleece material. They were a mess, covered in sweat and come, but Pete only pressed himself closer to Patrick, rubbing their slick bellies together and giggling. Patrick began stroking Pete’s face and laughing himself, because how could he not? This was his forever now and he couldn’t be happier.
“Happy birthday, Patrick Stump,” Pete whispered as he played with the singer’s damp blonde locks.
Patrick’s eyes welled up with tears but he was smiling. He now had everything he had ever wished for.