All That's Good
Title: All That's Good
Author:femme_etoile
Rating: PG. SERIOUSLY PG.
Authors Note: Excuse the slight OCD!Pete. His character just made me melt slightly.
Disclaimer: As believable as this pairing is: It ain't real, and neither is this fic. Fic deriving from FICTION, surprisingly.
Pete decided he was never leaving the warm confines of the blinding white cocoon he had entangled himself in. Sure, it was actually Patrick's bed, but he most definitely was not leaving. He wasn't sure whether it was the intoxicating smell of...well, of Patrick, or something else; but he knew he was addicted.
“Pete,” Patrick's soft voice danced around his ears. There was another possibility for the addiction-case: Waking up with Patrick. “I made you breakfast.” There was that voice again, it tickled down every nerve ending and completely shut off all rational thought in his head. There isn't much to cancel out anyway.
Pete's glad Patrick lets him share his bed because Pete thinks it's the best place to learn how to fall in love. Pete thinks that might be a lyric somewhere, but he's not really bothered and the feeling of Patrick's feather soft lips pressed against his pulse is driving him insane, really. He really hopes Patrick knows how heavenly it feels, he probably does. Patrick seems to know everything about Pete, he's sure it's the soul mate thing they've got going on.
He's thankful for the contact of Patrick's hand on his back as he wolfs down the fluffy pancakes, leaning into his touch slightly. Placing the plate on the counter top, Pete decides he's missed Patrick far too much, and should therefore rectify the situation. As he plants his lips firmly against Patrick's, Pete guides them both backwards until his knees hit the couch. Pete would much rather be on the bed, feeling the soft cotton sheets underneath and Patrick's silky skin above, but he'll settle for the couch right now.
Fifteen minutes of mind-blowing kisses later and Pete still can't take his mind off the rough fabric beneath him, his shirt slightly ridden revealing a patch of skin that Pete's sure only Patrick should touch. The friction between his hips and Patrick's is providing just enough pleasure for Pete not to really care, but he thinks the time has come to move their activities. Besides, it's only fair to visitors (or so Pete convinces himself. He gladly forgets the last time Andy paid a visit, and found the remnants of Pete's joy smeared on the seat of his pants.) He rips his mouth away from Patrick's, breathing heavily and looking out from half-lidded eyes.
“Patrick,” Pete hates his voice right now. He's reminded of puberty; high pitched vocals with a deep undertone. His voice sounds wrong to his ears and yet as soon as the two syllables leave his lips Patrick becomes a writhing mess beneath his fingertips. “We've got to move. Like, urgently.”
Patrick looks sceptical; He was perfectly comfortable on their couch but knowing Pete's diva-esque ways, he complies. Sweaty hand clamped in sweaty hand, Pete is really glad that Patrick knows just about everything, because it makes his life a whole lot easier in the long run. He thanks whatever it is up there (because he's pretty certain God isn't) that Joe met Patrick, because otherwise he wouldn't have and really, his life wouldn't be worth living. He's told Patrick this, and Patrick just giggled at him. “We're soul mates; of course we would have met. And stop being melodramatic, my love.” Patrick cooed, planting a soft kiss to the end of Pete's nose before dragging him closer to his heavenly bed.
Really, Pete decides, he should call it their bed because in all fairness, he spends as much time as Patrick in it. Probably more, because the only times Patrick is in it is when he and Pete are getting better acquainted, and Pete likes to sleep afterwards. He always wakes up after Patrick, but that's good because he just loves how bleary-eyed Patrick stumbles over their clothes only to end up falling in his arms.
Patrick is more than a little shocked to wake up in his bed alone later that night, he's so used to having the older man cuddled up to his side. It's so strange that Patrick decides he's dreaming and shuts his eyes tightly. Sure enough, when he opens them he sees Pete, but not in the bed with him. Pete is stood at the end of the bed, a piece of pink coloured card clutched between his hands, grinning childishly. Patrick's pretty sure the date on Pete's birth certificate is wrong, because the man he loves can't be older than 5. The thought makes Patrick feel slightly dirty, but he shakes it off as Pete's squealing, giggling form jumps on him, winding him slightly.
“Trick, look!” Pete waves the card in his face, glitter flying off it and settling in Patrick's damp, fair hair. Grabbing the article off Pete, Patrick pulls him under his arm as the card focuses into clear vision.
“PeterPanda + PattyCakes Bed. My most favourite place in the world; with my favourite person.”
Pete's sure that Patrick loves his sign, even if he is crying slightly.
“Pattycakes, don't cry. I love you.” Pete smiles hopefully, thrusting his face under Patrick's cascading hair and rubbing his nose against the soft skin of Patrick's cheek.
“Peterpanda, I love you too. Just go stick this at the foot of the bed for me, and we'll cuddle, yeah?”
Pete knows why he loves Patrick's bed so much. He tells everyone that it's because that's where he can spend time with the one thing that's pure and good in the world: Patrick Stump.
Patrick just loves it when Pete gets serious.
Author:femme_etoile
Rating: PG. SERIOUSLY PG.
Authors Note: Excuse the slight OCD!Pete. His character just made me melt slightly.
Disclaimer: As believable as this pairing is: It ain't real, and neither is this fic. Fic deriving from FICTION, surprisingly.
Pete decided he was never leaving the warm confines of the blinding white cocoon he had entangled himself in. Sure, it was actually Patrick's bed, but he most definitely was not leaving. He wasn't sure whether it was the intoxicating smell of...well, of Patrick, or something else; but he knew he was addicted.
“Pete,” Patrick's soft voice danced around his ears. There was another possibility for the addiction-case: Waking up with Patrick. “I made you breakfast.” There was that voice again, it tickled down every nerve ending and completely shut off all rational thought in his head. There isn't much to cancel out anyway.
Pete's glad Patrick lets him share his bed because Pete thinks it's the best place to learn how to fall in love. Pete thinks that might be a lyric somewhere, but he's not really bothered and the feeling of Patrick's feather soft lips pressed against his pulse is driving him insane, really. He really hopes Patrick knows how heavenly it feels, he probably does. Patrick seems to know everything about Pete, he's sure it's the soul mate thing they've got going on.
He's thankful for the contact of Patrick's hand on his back as he wolfs down the fluffy pancakes, leaning into his touch slightly. Placing the plate on the counter top, Pete decides he's missed Patrick far too much, and should therefore rectify the situation. As he plants his lips firmly against Patrick's, Pete guides them both backwards until his knees hit the couch. Pete would much rather be on the bed, feeling the soft cotton sheets underneath and Patrick's silky skin above, but he'll settle for the couch right now.
Fifteen minutes of mind-blowing kisses later and Pete still can't take his mind off the rough fabric beneath him, his shirt slightly ridden revealing a patch of skin that Pete's sure only Patrick should touch. The friction between his hips and Patrick's is providing just enough pleasure for Pete not to really care, but he thinks the time has come to move their activities. Besides, it's only fair to visitors (or so Pete convinces himself. He gladly forgets the last time Andy paid a visit, and found the remnants of Pete's joy smeared on the seat of his pants.) He rips his mouth away from Patrick's, breathing heavily and looking out from half-lidded eyes.
“Patrick,” Pete hates his voice right now. He's reminded of puberty; high pitched vocals with a deep undertone. His voice sounds wrong to his ears and yet as soon as the two syllables leave his lips Patrick becomes a writhing mess beneath his fingertips. “We've got to move. Like, urgently.”
Patrick looks sceptical; He was perfectly comfortable on their couch but knowing Pete's diva-esque ways, he complies. Sweaty hand clamped in sweaty hand, Pete is really glad that Patrick knows just about everything, because it makes his life a whole lot easier in the long run. He thanks whatever it is up there (because he's pretty certain God isn't) that Joe met Patrick, because otherwise he wouldn't have and really, his life wouldn't be worth living. He's told Patrick this, and Patrick just giggled at him. “We're soul mates; of course we would have met. And stop being melodramatic, my love.” Patrick cooed, planting a soft kiss to the end of Pete's nose before dragging him closer to his heavenly bed.
Really, Pete decides, he should call it their bed because in all fairness, he spends as much time as Patrick in it. Probably more, because the only times Patrick is in it is when he and Pete are getting better acquainted, and Pete likes to sleep afterwards. He always wakes up after Patrick, but that's good because he just loves how bleary-eyed Patrick stumbles over their clothes only to end up falling in his arms.
Patrick is more than a little shocked to wake up in his bed alone later that night, he's so used to having the older man cuddled up to his side. It's so strange that Patrick decides he's dreaming and shuts his eyes tightly. Sure enough, when he opens them he sees Pete, but not in the bed with him. Pete is stood at the end of the bed, a piece of pink coloured card clutched between his hands, grinning childishly. Patrick's pretty sure the date on Pete's birth certificate is wrong, because the man he loves can't be older than 5. The thought makes Patrick feel slightly dirty, but he shakes it off as Pete's squealing, giggling form jumps on him, winding him slightly.
“Trick, look!” Pete waves the card in his face, glitter flying off it and settling in Patrick's damp, fair hair. Grabbing the article off Pete, Patrick pulls him under his arm as the card focuses into clear vision.
“PeterPanda + PattyCakes Bed. My most favourite place in the world; with my favourite person.”
Pete's sure that Patrick loves his sign, even if he is crying slightly.
“Pattycakes, don't cry. I love you.” Pete smiles hopefully, thrusting his face under Patrick's cascading hair and rubbing his nose against the soft skin of Patrick's cheek.
“Peterpanda, I love you too. Just go stick this at the foot of the bed for me, and we'll cuddle, yeah?”
Pete knows why he loves Patrick's bed so much. He tells everyone that it's because that's where he can spend time with the one thing that's pure and good in the world: Patrick Stump.
Patrick just loves it when Pete gets serious.