Home. [standalone]
Title: Home. [standalone]
Author:
friend_request
Pairing: Patrick/Peter
POV: Pete
Summary: , but I like to believe that I’m still a Chicago boy, that I’m not living my ego’s shadow.
Rating: pg
Disclaimer: Don't know them, don't own them. In case you're wondering; this has never happened.
Author Notes: Those are not lyrics. I wrote everything myself. Oh, and the whole thing's beta'd, but I don't think you want to know who did the job.
Steal your toothpaste to keep your taste.
Steal your sweater to wrap you around me.
Tape your voice to relish in your warmth.
Get in my pants, I’ll leave them for you.
I’ve done it all. You never understood.
You’re too complex. I’m too easy.
Bury my heart in your garden.
It’ll be with you forever.
I know you won’t move.
You believe in the illusion I still deny.
Living in an LA mansion, stuck with Chicago dreams.
My nonexistent dreams about true love are killing me.
That’s what you get for not believing.
The dog dug up my heart in your garden.
His puppy teeth are my new inner tattoo.
I’m dressed in camera flashes and exhale rumours.
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So here I am, brushing my teeth with your toothpaste, wearing your sweater while listening to the demo you sent me yesterday. I can’t help but wonder if you’ve already notice the foreign pair of pants in your closet. I left them, just for you. I want to let you know how it feels to get in my pants, how it feels to have me wrapped around you all day.
I wonder if you’ll find my note this time.
It almost seems like you’re the complex one. You never seem to get the things I find easy – like the thing with the pants or the toothpaste
I left my heart with you, since I know you’ll guard it with your life. You’d bury my heart in your garden, just to see if something beautiful could grow out of it. I doubt it, but then again, I’ve never been the optimistic one.
I’m not afraid that one day my heart will belong to a new owner of the house you’re living in; I know you’ll never leave the place. You believe in a place called ‘home,’ while I’ve quit searching for it - ‘home’ is an illusion.
I’ve recently moved to an LA mansion, but I like to believe that I’m still a Chicago boy, that I’m not living my ego’s shadow. I wish that I could just believe in ‘the one,’ fully
knowing that I’ll never find ‘the one.’ Maybe I’m just really good at knowing who I don’t want. I want to believe in the miracle.
The dog ran around in your garden and started digging underneath that one tree. He managed to dug up my heart, but he didn’t tear it up like I’d expected him to do. He tried to bring it back to me, but I asked him to put it back underneath that one tree in your garden -- the place where it belongs. His puppy teeth, my new inner tattoo, are the only trace he’s left.
Every step I take is printed in tabloids. Every ‘hello’ I ever said to her, meant an ‘I love you’ to them. I wish you’d see through the lies. I wish you’d make me yours.
----------------------------------------
Any comments/critics?
Author:
friend_requestPairing: Patrick/Peter
POV: Pete
Summary: , but I like to believe that I’m still a Chicago boy, that I’m not living my ego’s shadow.
Rating: pg
Disclaimer: Don't know them, don't own them. In case you're wondering; this has never happened.
Author Notes: Those are not lyrics. I wrote everything myself. Oh, and the whole thing's beta'd, but I don't think you want to know who did the job.
Steal your toothpaste to keep your taste.
Steal your sweater to wrap you around me.
Tape your voice to relish in your warmth.
Get in my pants, I’ll leave them for you.
I’ve done it all. You never understood.
You’re too complex. I’m too easy.
Bury my heart in your garden.
It’ll be with you forever.
I know you won’t move.
You believe in the illusion I still deny.
Living in an LA mansion, stuck with Chicago dreams.
My nonexistent dreams about true love are killing me.
That’s what you get for not believing.
The dog dug up my heart in your garden.
His puppy teeth are my new inner tattoo.
I’m dressed in camera flashes and exhale rumours.
----------------------------------------
So here I am, brushing my teeth with your toothpaste, wearing your sweater while listening to the demo you sent me yesterday. I can’t help but wonder if you’ve already notice the foreign pair of pants in your closet. I left them, just for you. I want to let you know how it feels to get in my pants, how it feels to have me wrapped around you all day.
I wonder if you’ll find my note this time.
It almost seems like you’re the complex one. You never seem to get the things I find easy – like the thing with the pants or the toothpaste
I left my heart with you, since I know you’ll guard it with your life. You’d bury my heart in your garden, just to see if something beautiful could grow out of it. I doubt it, but then again, I’ve never been the optimistic one.
I’m not afraid that one day my heart will belong to a new owner of the house you’re living in; I know you’ll never leave the place. You believe in a place called ‘home,’ while I’ve quit searching for it - ‘home’ is an illusion.
I’ve recently moved to an LA mansion, but I like to believe that I’m still a Chicago boy, that I’m not living my ego’s shadow. I wish that I could just believe in ‘the one,’ fully
knowing that I’ll never find ‘the one.’ Maybe I’m just really good at knowing who I don’t want. I want to believe in the miracle.
The dog ran around in your garden and started digging underneath that one tree. He managed to dug up my heart, but he didn’t tear it up like I’d expected him to do. He tried to bring it back to me, but I asked him to put it back underneath that one tree in your garden -- the place where it belongs. His puppy teeth, my new inner tattoo, are the only trace he’s left.
Every step I take is printed in tabloids. Every ‘hello’ I ever said to her, meant an ‘I love you’ to them. I wish you’d see through the lies. I wish you’d make me yours.
----------------------------------------
Any comments/critics?