The bruise blossoming over Pete's cheek made Patrick cringe, but he felt it was a pretty accurate response to the bassist's so fucking stupid question.
"There is no fucking way I'm taking you to prom, you asshole. I don't want to go, why the hell do you?!" Patrick's still in a sort of shock, he's only known this guy for a couple months, and playing the drums for Arma doesn't immediately make them friends, but Pete's got other ideas.
Pete's grin looks ridiculous, chopped bangs pushed out of his eyes, other hand poking at the bruise. "You're more upset about going than going with me? Wow, Rickster, had no clue you were so....flexible."
The blush that covers his cheeks is probably answer enough to Pete's remark, but he reaches out for another swing, this one actually blocked by the fact Pete climbs quick into Patrick's lap, pinning his arms down and digging knees into sides of thighs. "Come on, Patrick. Let me be sixteen again, let's be a John Hughes movie. I'll be your hot boyfriend from out of state and you can be the geeky kid turned popular because of me. Come onnn."
Patrick snarls, glaring up at him before catching just how wide Pete's eyes are. Sure, the guy's joking, but there's something else there, something wanting, and he knows that face. He's seen it in the mirror.
"You really want to go, don't you?"
"I miss being a teenager. I didn't...get a prom, okay?" And Patrick knows there's lots of secrets between them, a lot of past he knows nothing about, but he's been piecing things together the more Pete shares his lyrics, know's that something happened before they met.
Patrick sighs, leaning into the threadbare cushions of Pete's couch, and closes his eyes, not wanting to see the excitement when he gives in. "Fine, you can be my date to prom." Mumbled out, his closed eyes give Pete the opportunity to steal a kiss, and Patrick doesn't even jerk, too frozen from the realization that maybe his crush isn't as one sided as he thought.
Okay, no, he was right the first time. Pete's just fucking with him. Because he comes over a couple weeks later to go "rent out tuxes", and Pete can't seem to take anything seriously; going to the mall instead and somehow they're holding hands and Pete's got a tiara and glitter all over himself.
Patrick just wants the sticky feel of lip gloss off his cheek, but the death grip on his hand and the fact every time he does get it off Pete just kisses him again makes it goddamn near impossible.
It's like going out with a preteen girl, and -
"Pete, you don't have to act like a girl. Pretty sure I know you have a dick already, you're not going to somehow erase my memory of seeing that." Patrick comments once they're back in Pete's car (and he really needs to get his license, Pete's driving fucking terrifies him), leering and laughing at Pete's confused look.
"Dude, Pete. Dude. I like you because you're a dude. If you were a chick, sure, I'd probably like you even then, but I like you." Reaching out to pull the tiara off, his hands shake but he's pretty sure Pete doesn't care by now, reaching to pull Pete in for a kiss. "I'm taking you to prom, you don't need to try so hard, okay?"
Pete's laughing now, grinning against Patrick's mouth and curling his fingers under his hat, tugging on the hair behind one ear to deepen the kiss then hold him there after he pulls their lips apart. "No, I really just wanted to show you off and have a stereotypical teenage date. Because a certain seventeen year old I'm kinda obsessed with deserves better than a twenty-something trainwreck. So I wanted to be normal. Well, my version of normal."
"You have no fuckin' clue what normal is."
Pete shrugs, stealing one last kiss before rubbing a thumb across Patrick's bottom lip to smear the last of the lip gloss over it and smirking once he was done. "Yeah, well. You don't seem to mind."
Patrick can feel his chest tightening, and he's biting at Pete's thumb to distract himself from the fact he's never had anyone who just....made a space for themselves inside him like Pete does. He's moved in and he can't imagine losing Pete. Fuck. He's so screwed.
"I figured you'd eventually catch on. I mean, you got me to sing, and I barely even know you." He mumbles around the finger he's got trapped.
Watching Pete's eyes stare at his mouth, Pete pulls away, making a low, frustrated noise. "I wish I had known you when I was sixteen, you're a good boyfriend."
"You are too. Now, tuxes. We'll even pretend prom is your sweet sixteen, as long as you don't wear that tiara anymore."
Pete's pout is so overplayed, but Patrick can't look past the shy smile he gets afterwards. "Yeah?"
"Fucker, I'm pretty sure I'll do anything for you. Don't push it."