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Call Me Up When The Snow Comes Down

Chapter Text

Dallon stuffed his hands deep inside his pockets to fight off the cold as he made his way down the street, a cigarette dangled loosely between his lips. A sigh left his lips before a small smile caught onto the edges of his mouth instead, the wooden sign he was looking for hanging overhead.

"Brendon," he grunted, pushing his way inside the small cafe before slamming the door so the weather outside couldn't follow him in. "Get me one black coffee to go, alright?"

"Yeah, whatever, Weekes." The shorter boy rolled his eyes. Setting to work on the coffee, Brendon settled on examining his friend. "So," he cleared his voice to break the short silence that settled over the almost empty cafe, dispite a few other loners lost in their own world. "Still keeping up your bad habits, I see." He leaned across the counter and pulled Dallon's cigarette from his lips before putting it between his own.

"Fuck off, work is stressful. It helps." He tried to reach out to grab it back, but Brendon pulled away and shook his head just in time to evade his slender fingers wrapping around the cheap paper.

"Uh uh," Dallon rolled his eyes as Brendon shoved his coffee forwards instead. "Drink it, occupy your lips with something other than cigarettes or co-"

"Finish that sentence and this coffee will go from this cup to down your pants, Urie." Dallon seemed to growl, baring his teeth with as much fierceness he could muster up at eight in the morning.

"Kinky," The younger lifted his eyebrows and rolled the cigarette to the other side of his mouth.

"Fuck. Off."

Brendon raised his hands in defense and hummed. "Fine, fine. Go have fun spending all that money of yours, Dal."

Dallon gripped his styrofoam cup, deciding he needed the caffeine more than he needed to piss off his friend. Adjusting his suit jacket, he grit out a thanks and put his money in between them.

"Keep the change, asshole."

"Love you, too, sweetie."

Slamming the door, Brendon's snickering was the last thing he heard as he started down the snow-ridden street once again, muttering bitterly to himself about how he really needed to get better friends.

Preoccupied with his anger, he slammed right into a shorter man who immediately began to apologize profusely, despite most of the mess of scalding black liquid landing on his own jacket.

"Oh my god- I'm so sorry-"

The other began to stutter before Dallon's eyes fell across him. He was short, extremely so compared to himself, but that isn't saying much considering he was 6'3". His lips were soft and dark pink, creating a juxtaposition against his pale skin and his eyes were wide as his breath created a transparent cloud across his face.

"Don't worry about it." He swallowed, just as surprised at his words as the blond seemed to be. "It wasn't that good anyways?"

"Can I give you enough change to buy another...?" Concern read across his face easily, making Dallon unsure If the red tint was because of the cold or his embarrassment from spilling a drink down himself.

"You could join me for a coffee instead? I wouldn't mind paying. The only things I need are your name and number." A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he placed his hands on his hips and cocked them to the side.

"Patrick." He murmured softly, messing with the scarf around
his neck. His fingers caught in a few of the loops of yarn that had been pulled out due to excessive use and what seemed to be a nervous habit. "You...?"

"Dallon," He said confidently. Taking a pen out of his suit pocket and handing it to him along with his now mostly empty coffee cup, he met the other's eyes. "And your number?" Patrick hesitantly took the cup, neatly writing his number and name across the side. Taking it back, the taller man read it to himself, trying not to laugh at where he'd obviously put at 'h' at the end of Stump before scribbling it out and showing another habit he was still seemingly trying to get over.

"Cute." He mumbled to himself more than anyone else around him.

Patrick's blush had spread from his cheeks and began to creep down his neck, under his shirt collar, his teeth worrying at his lip as he pulled a few more threads of yarn loose from his scarf. "Text me when you're not busy?"

"Definitely." Dallon winked, only managing to make Patrick stutter softly and stumble over his words as he tried to find something to reply.

"Th-thanks, Dallon," He settled on this before pushing his way through a few huddles of people ahead of him, trying to brace himself against the Chicago snow as he muttered about how humiliating he felt he made the situation. Dallon couldn't help
But smile at that, watching his golden hair eventually disappear into the crowds of uncaring people, unaware of the meeting between the short, pale angel and this rich, nicotine-dependent asshole.

"Screw this shitty town, taking away a good morning." He mumbled a bit breathlessly, deciding Patrick had taken all the air from his lungs with him to keep as a souvenir of their meeting. Maybe next time Dallon can be the one to take his breath away. Preferably involving both of their lips...

He shook his head, not needing to think of any of that right now. They'd just met, after all. He hardly knew anything about the other boy other than he was cute and seemed to be polite, though not very good at avoiding his anxious tendencies.

After tapping the number into his phone and saving it under 'Stump Without An H', he started on his way once again, pulling out his box of camels and flicking another cigarette out before pulling it out with his teeth. He swore and fumbled for a moment before finally pulling out his lighter and holding the flame up to the end, taking a long drag before pulling it away from his mouth slowly with his index and middle fingers. Exhaling, a more opaque cloud than Patrick's left his chapped lips.

"Fuck," was all he muttered before slumping over and making his way back down the busy street.

Chapter Text

It had taken Dallon exactly two days to 'not be busy', which really meant it took him two days to get over himself and finally text Patrick.

It was short, something Dallon probably took way too much time on just to type it out, but he felt a sick pride in his chest once he finally hit send with his shaking finger. Most of that long while he'd taken was used trying to type something that didn't make him come off as either he was into him, or he was an asshole. Really, he was both, but Patrick had no need to know that yet.

"Ready for that coffee date we talked about?"

After only seconds of no reply, the pride left his chest and was instantly filled with dread. What if Patrick wasn't even planning on him texting? What if he hadn't thought this through enough? He let out a long groan, muttering how insanely stupid he was for even considering that the other man meant any of his apologies. The blond didn't even really agree to going out with him, did he? Cursing under his breath, he got ready to throw his phone across the kitchen counter, hopefully managing to crack it and ending all his communication with stupid, pretty boys and their stupid, kissable lips.

Before the chance presented itself, a soft 'bzzt' vibrated up through his fingers and took a moment to register in his brain that Patrick did, indeed, text him back, melting away each of his worries. Opening the text, he almost cried from relief.

"This is Dallon, right? I'm really sorry again for spilling that coffee on you, but sure. Would you mind giving me about ten minutes to get myself ready?"

That text was followed by another soon after, displaying his address across the screen, which is evidently was in an apartment building not far from the same cafe they'd met outside of a few days previous. Dallon stood up with a new determination, taking a deep breath before grabbing his jacket and typing out a quick reply. Deciding it would take him just about ten minutes to drive there anyways, he pulled his keys from the small bowl on the kitchen island and headed to his car.


One extremely drawn out drive later, Dallon pulled up to a small apartment building. The aged grey paint with chipping, leaving a dirty looking exterior underneath which showed it's true age along the corners and bottom. Other than that, the place looked well kept and clean, icicles clinging to the railing, making the heat from the car impossibly more inviting.

Before he could bother to step out into the cold, Patrick bolted down the front steps, his wallet in one hand while he tried to button his cardigan under his coat with the other (which was buttoned two off, making the whole thing lopsided), giving Dallon a heart attack as he practically slid over the icy asphalt.

"S-sorry," Patrick breathed, his face flushed and breathing heavy as he opened the side door to the car. "I saw y-you from my window and I really didn't mean to make you wait-"

"Hey, it's okay, don't apologize. I wasn't waiting that long and I was planning on going in to get you anyways."

A soft 'oh' left his lips as he sat down, sinking into the heated seat before buckling himself in. After shifting and shoving his wallet to the bottom of one of his pockets, he pulled something else out of it which happens to be an old, worn glasses case. Watching him slip them onto the bridge of his nose, Dallon couldn't help but smile at how he dressed. He was probably the first guy he considered cute in a long time.

"You okay if we go to that cafe we met by? My friend works there and, in my opinion anyways, it isn't half bad." Dallon could just see Brendon's face as he bitched him out for that comment, trying not to laugh as he looked down at the shorter man.

Instead of supplying a verbal response, he just closed his eyes and nodded, the flush from the cold tinting his cheeks and nose a bright red. Dallon subtly reached over, turning the heater up a notch or two more before Patrick noticed and smiled appreciatively.

Most of the ride was completely silent, spent with Patrick watching the snow hit the windshield while Dallon's eyes stayed focused on the road. Patrick cleared his throat, sitting up a bit from where he had squished himself down to get some heat into his body.

"So... tell me about yourself? We kind of only met over me fucking up," Dallon cocked an eyebrow at the curse leaving his lips.

"There's not much to say. My
Name's Dallon Weekes, I'm 24, and I moved to Chicago from Salt Lake City, Utah."

"Huh. What's your profession?"

"I run a record label." He shrugged like he wasn't one of the richest people in the city.


"Mhm. What about yourself?"

Patrick messed with his hands in his lap. "I, uh, I'm Patrick Stump, 21, and right now my only source of income is playing guitar and sometimes singing on street corners or in bars or just wherever people want some cheap live entertainment," Dallon hummed, smiling.

"You'll have to let me hear sometime."

Patrick silently agreed before Dallon finally parked, getting out and opening the passenger side before the other man could do it himself. He lead him across the icy sidewalk before they got to the door, shoving their way into the surprisingly busy cafe.

"Dallon! You didn't come to visit yesterday," Brendon pouted, resting his chin on his hand as he leaned over the counter. "Could it be you were too busy with this cutie to remember your best friend?"

The shorter boy blushed but Dallon rolled his eyes, shaking his head at Brendon.

"Honestly, keep your pants on. I'm here on a date." He turned back towards the blond and folded his arms. "Order anything you want, yeah? And I'll take my usual."

Patrick nodded before ordering himself a hot chocolate, explaining that he'd already had enough caffeine this morning and anymore would probably have him too hyper to focus on anything.

After a few more of Brendon's intolerable jokes and pick up lines, they both made their way to a booth near the front window, sitting in a comfortable silence. A few questions managed to make their way into their minds, though, making Patrick shift and bounce his leg.

"Really feels like Christmas, huh?" Dallon pushed, trying to bring up any kind of small talk to fill the cold, empty air. Patrick only nodded and took a sip of his drink, quickly pulling back and cringing, indicating he must have burned his tongue on the liquid. "You okay?" He let out a small, sympathetic laugh towards the younger boy.

"Y-yeah, yeah," He took a deep breath, clearing his throat. "I... I know we just met, but... Can I ask something of you?" His cheeks were sporting that signature blush.

Dallon's mind started racing for what could possibly have Patrick as nervous as he seemed right now, but he couldn't think of anything that didn't involve, well, sex, and Patrick wouldn't be asking anything like that of him right now, would he? He realized he was staring before stuttering and settling for a curt nod.

A large breath seemed to escape Patrick's lungs. "Could you... Could you come with me to my family's Christmas party?"

All of Dallon's ideas fell flat as he cleared his throat. "Um... excuse me..?"

Patrick seemed to deflate more, if that was possible.

"Please? This is the first time I'll be seeing any of my homophobic family since they found out I was gay and, I- uh- I just..." He took a moment to rack his brain for any way to phrase this. "You seem really nice, and maybe me bringing a boyfriend home would make them a little less harsh with what they say towards me?"

Dallon's mind seemed to be drawing a blank, so instead of commenting, asking anything logical, all he could force out was probably the stupidest thing he could have asked.


That one word hung in the air, making both of them freeze. Though it was obvious that they had an interest in each other, it's not like either of them had really been thinking about any kind of real relationship, let alone title, at this point in time. Patrick had only realized his mistake once it was pointed out. He felt like such an idiot to the point he would have preferred reliving Pete drunkenly making out with him rather than whatever one night stand he swore he brought home that night than being subjected to Dallon's piercing blue eyes on his.

"I'm so s-"

"Don't be," Dallon eventually smirked, cutting him off and taking a long sip of his coffee. "You're always apologizing. It's okay, really, you don't have any reason to apologize. So when is it?"

This question seemed to stick Patrick and he sat with his mouth open for a moment.


"The party, when is it?"

"O-oh!" Embarrassment flooded his cheeks once again, seeming to be something to occur more often than not at this point. "This Saturday..?"

"Perfect. I suppose we'll be seeing each other a lot more often, then?"

"Yeah, I guess so... "

Both sat, staring at each other and smiling before Brendon snorted across the cafe.

"That's fucking gay."

Chapter Text

After the date between Dallon and himself, Patrick called Pete and told him to get to the cafe as fast as he cold. Providing no other explanation then "it's urgent", Pete didn't bother to question and instead risked getting pulled over to get there as fast as he did.

About ten minutes after Dallon left to go deal with some work he had with one of the newest bands he's signed, Pete stumbled it, snow covering his horribly dyed hair and coat. He quickly slid into the seat next to his friend.

"What do you mean, urgent?"

"I met someone." Patrick smiled, answering simply and making Pete deflate a bit.

"You made me come all the way here just to tell me you got into someone's pants?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "What's his name, at least?"

"Dallon Weekes. He's tall, sweet, and completely han-"

"Woah, back up, Dallon Weekes? You're fucking one of the most rich, successful people in all of Chicago?"

Patrick's eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. "We haven't- We just met! We haven't done anything!"

Pete shrugged and met the younger's eyes. "Isn't he just an asshole? I don't want your sweet self getting involved in that kind of shit."

"What do you mean? He's been nothing but sweet to me, how could he be rude to anyone?"

Pete shrugged. "People have complained plenty of times about him being a complete dick. He's just a stuck up rich boy who's been catered to since he was born."

"Until he's rude to me, I'm not going to listen to a single thing you say." Patrick hummed, trying his hardest not to come off as mean. He stood up, reaching out his hand, he pulled Pete up along with him. "Let's walk."

Pete silently agreed, letting Patrick pull him out the front door of the cafe. As soon as they were both outside, a chill ran up Pete's spine, and he was pretty sure it was just the cold till his eyes caught on someone walking their way. He opened and closed his mouth several times before finally clearing his throat. He squeezed his friends hand hard.

"Patrick, I think I just saw-"

"Megan. Fuck-" Patrick cursed and stumbled for a moment after he cut Pete off. "All the people are at work so there's no crowds and all these stores are still cold, where do we hide?"

Both faltered, Pete coming up with an idea far from brilliant.

"She's never seen me, right?" Patrick shook his head. "Pictures of me?" Again, he shook his head. "Good."

Pete grabbed both of Patrick's shoulders and shoved him up against the wall behind them, the shorter letting out a gasp as a brick dug into his side. Pete mumbled a small "sorry" under his breath before leaning down and pressing their lips together firmly.

All in all, this was the last thing on the list of what Patrick would call a solution, but there wasn't much he could do at the moment. Half of him screamed that this was wrong, to pull away, that this wasn't Dallon, but the other half knew if he pulled away now, it would be an even bigger disaster. Not only would Megan see her brother, she would see him pulling away from kissing a horribly dyed bleach blond with tattoos littering his arms and around his neck. He decided kissing him was better than being caught.

It made it a bit worse that neither of them were moving, stiff as boards as they stood in the cold. Pete must have thought so, too, because he started moving a bit slowly and running his tongue along the seam of the plump, bright pink lips against his own. Patrick briefly wondered if he could taste the peppermint from the hot chocolate he drank less than an hour ago with the tall, icy eyed man he was falling head over heels with.

As they pulled away, Pete stuttered to find anything to say to make up for what he'd just done.

"Fuck, 'rick- I'm so sorry-"
"Let's just... We're friends, right? That can't be the weirdest thing we've done together." Pete sputtered at the reply, but agreed, taking his hand again.

"Let's just get you back home for now, yeah? And you can keep telling me about this 'not-an- asshole' asshole."

Patrick nodded slowly and smiled. "I'm sure you'd love him."

Chapter Text

It felt like no time had passed when Saturday came around. Most of the week had been spent with Dallon and Patrick joined together at the hip. Even at night they'd exchange texts, keeping the both of them up well past two in the morning. It's not like either of them really cared.

Currently, Dallon was trying to convince Patrick's receptionist that he was not, in fact, trying to rob the apartment building, and rather he was trying to pick up his date who was in the process of panicking over his family's holiday gathering. Giving up after the kid, branded "Ryan" by the name tag on his chest, insisted that last time he was robbed he was told the same story, He settled for calling Patrick instead.

"Do we have to go?"

Those were the first words spoken on either side of the line as he picked up. Rolling his eyes, he drew out an extremely under appreciated "yes".

"I'd pull you out of your damn room myself, but this Ryan asshole thinks I'm trying to rob you. Either make him let me in or get up yourself, but either way, we're going."


Patrick soon settled for the former, buzzing Ryan to tell him to give the brunet permission, regrettably so as soon as Dallon came into his apartment and began to laugh hysterically.

"Fuck off! What's so funny, asshole?" Dallon just shook his head, letting out a snort at the look of Patrick's disheveled appearance. His hair fell over his eyes, the back of it sticking up wildly and showing just how carelessly Patrick must have passed out last night. Even the shirt he had on was inside out and wrinkled. Even his pants were non existent, though he must not have noticed as he sat up in his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Boxers.

"Come on, get dressed. The party's in a half an hour and I'm not letting you chicken out after working yourself up about it. It's going to go fine and the only way you'll know that is if you get up."

Dallon started rummaging through the other boy's drawers, pulling out a clean pair of boxers, a grey sweater, and his last pair of black skinny jeans. He made a mental note to help Patrick do his laundry once they got home from his parents' house.

Patrick let out a long, drawn out groan as Dallon threw the clothes he picked at his head. He regrettably stood up, making his way to the bathroom and weakly swinging the door closed. After the sound of a zipper, a toothbrush being dragged across teeth, and the toilet flushing, he returned, looking slightly more awake.

"Let's get this shit over with."

Dallon nodded and took his hand, walking him back down the hallway. "So, tell me about your family?" He watched the shorter man out of the corner of his eye as he tried to make small talk.

"All of them are complete assholes." He groaned, mentally preparing himself for going off. "There's my brother Kevin, my sister Megan, my mom, and my step dad. Everyone was pretty okay, but after my mom remarried, David kind of converted them and they joined the church. Sadly, one of the things they seemed to catch on quick with was the homophobia." Dallon gave him a sympathetic look.

"My friend, Brendon that you met at the cafe, he's kind of the same. He was born in Utah and his parents brought him up Mormon. That's how we met, actually. Through the church. We found out we were gay around the same time and it wasn't really that hard knowing we wouldn't be alone in it."

The conversation trailed on, drawing out till they made their way out of the elevator and towards Dallon's car. After both pulling themselves into the already chilled seats, Patrick let out a long, heavy sigh. Frost webbed its way across the windshield and covered the glass on either side of them in delicate, intricate designs. The blond drew his finger along it and drew his name in cursive.

"The address again?" Dallon hummed and Patrick whined. "We're going. Now tell me, please?" He started batting his eyelashes and smiling. Rolling his eyes, Patrick gave in and recited the numbers again. "Thanks, sweetie?"

The pet name made Patrick's cheeks flush, muttering under his breath as he sunk down a bit. "Sh-shut up, asshole..."

And he did, but not without snickering at his friend's misfortune.

"We'll be there soon, Kay? And even if your parents do end up being complete dicks, I'd never let them talk to you like you were anything less than perfect."

Patrick nodded, reaching his hand over the arm rest and held Dallon's lightly.


The car pulled up to a neat, festively decorated house not ten minutes later. Several other cars littered the curb and drive way and a few blurry silhouettes could be seen from where they sat.

"I changed my mind."

Patrick's voice shook along with his entire body, hands gripping his jacket as tight as he could till his knuckles started turning white and Dallon was sure if he shook any harder he'd either have a panic attack or pass out. Possibly both.

"We're not turning back now. And if they're horrible, I'll talk sense into them and we'll leave."

Patrick hesitated, making their way back towards his old house before he shivered again. "Okay, fine. Let's go."

Dallon smiled and helped him out of the car, locking their fingers together as they carefully stepped up the icy sidewalk. Patrick curled his toes in his shoes as the taller man knocked hard several times. The echo from the wood made His chest ache and he almost threw up right there.

It took only moments before Patricia Stumph opened the door.

"Patrick! We didn't expect you," She chirped, cheerful manner melting away as she spied Dallon's band laced with his. "Who..." she cleared her throat, seemly trying not to come off as cold. "Who's this?"

"This is Dallon Weekes," He said meekly. He turned his head a bit to meet his eyes.

"His boyfriend," Dallon himself added cheerfully.

Chapter Text

As the words left his Dallon's lips, Patricia flinched. Her quiet, unbearably kind demeanor slipped and she swallowed. Patrick could practically hear her from before, spitting out "I was afraid this would happen".

Dallon had a grin that spread from either ear, unknowingly making the whole situation that much worse. Patricia stepped to the side after a long stretch of uncomfortable silence, letting them walk into the living room where everyone else sat. All eyes made their way to them and the awkward feeling in Patrick’s chest grew impossibly bigger, making him grip Dallon’s sleeve rather than his hand.

“Everyone,” Patrick’s mom cleared her throat and fidgeted her hands in front of her torso. “Patrick brought someone with him. “This is Dallon, his… Boyfriend…” her voice got quieter and quieter as the sentence went on and Kevin’s eyes went wide.

“I thought you were kidding, you can't be serious, can you?”

“Why would I lie about that?” Patrick whispered, lifting his head up to meet his brother’s eyes. “I like boys… I already told that…”

The conversation trailed off, leaving only a few whispers in its wake. The look on both brother’s faces showed just how much Patrick regretted even considering coming and a bit of guilt twisted in Dallon’s chest. Leaning down a bit, he smiled reassuringly. “Remember what I said, okay? If it gets too bad, tell me and we’ll go back to my place. I’m sure I have some old, shitty holiday movies laying somewhere in my house. The shorter nodded gratefully and Dallon kissed his cheek softly, making the whole room stop their whispers to stare once again.

“How about we start dinner?” Megan cut in, gesturing to the dining room where the table was brought to its full length and extra chairs were pushed in around it to make sure everyone would fit in without much of an issue. The rest of the room slowly stood up a couple at a time, making their way in and seating themselves. Patrick and Dallon soon followed in themselves and took two seats near the far end where everyone had managed to scoot as far as possible from.

After settling, a prayer was quietly uttered by Patrick’s step dad, who hadn’t said a word otherwise. That fact made Dallon feel a bit unnerved, but he chose to ignore it instead and fill his plate with whatever was closest to them to avoid having to ask anyone to reach it for him. Patrick himself just asked his friend to set whatever he was having on his plate as well, which Dallon didn’t question and he highly appreciated.

“We’ll leave early, okay, Hun?” Dallon squeezed the blond’s knee under the table and met his eyes. He watched as he let out a heavy breath and smiled wider than he had all day. Taking that as an accomplishment, Dallon set to cutting his turkey into more manageable bites while the other man picked around his sweet potatoes.

Not much else was said during dinner after that, at least not to them. All the conversation was towards someone sitting at the other far end of the table, but it didn’t seem to bother either of the boys too bad. At least they didn’t have to deal with any awkward comments or questions being directed their way. God forbid Dallon have to go through another dinner getting asked how gay sex worked or if either him or his date had contracted some sort of STD yet since their last meeting.

After Patricia managed to deny all four attempts at Dallon trying to help clear the table and wash the dishes, the room seemed to migrate back to the living room where they sat around the sparsely decorated Christmas tree on every available surface they could find. Most of the kids sat with their legs crossed on the carpet, which was where Dallon and Patrick were also both forced to make their own seats, and despite both being highly uncomfortable with where they had been, they didn’t complain and sat quietly instead.

David, Patricia, and Patrick’s siblings soon reentered and David loudly announced that if they had a gift under the tree, they could grab it and open it one by one right now. At the end of his sentence, several children shot forward and grabbed almost every single package to be seen. Some held what they grabbed in their lap while the others who could handed them around to their recipient.

Dallon Couldn’t help but notice how not a single one was addressed to Patrick, and he shifted a bit closer to him as a bit of protectiveness swelled in his chest. What kind of family doesn’t even get their own son a gift? It was fucking Christmas eve, after all. He mentally noted to take Patrick to the mall tomorrow to let him pick out whatever he could possibly want. Hell, he had enough money that he didn’t know what to do with, he’d spend thousands on Patrick if it meant he’d see him smile and realize he didn’t need his shitty excuse for a family. Seeing the frown on the other boy’s face, he wrapped his arms around his hips, dragging him into his lap and resting his chin softly on top of his honey hair.

“Just ignore them.”

“I’m trying,” Patrick breathed. “But It still feels really shitty. Either they forgot about me, and remembered and just didn’t bother, and I can’t decide which one would be worse at this point.”


That made Dallon’s heart break, having Patrick sit here and think about himself as anything less than wonderful. A thought hit him and he worried his lip between his teeth as he moved his head down to rest his chin on his shoulder instead.

“I think I have a present for you at least, okay? So don’t be too bummed, baby.”

He was a bit disappointed that the pet name just slid right off and Patrick didn’t react with his usual crimson tinted cheeks, but the small nod was enough for Dallon for now.

“Do I get it now, or later?”

“You can have it now, if you really want, but I’ll let you decide on what you want. It is yours, after all.”

Patrick just nodded and turned a bit to see his date’s face. “Now, please? I want people to see me actually get something instead of it just being so obvious I was left out.” Dallon nodded in understanding but smirked a bit as he gripped Patrick’s hips for the second time and turned him so he was straddling his hips instead and they were facing each other. Patrick raised an eyebrow and Dallon just snickered under his breath.

“Ready for it?”

“I guess, do you have it with you?” He nodded and Patrick got a worried look on his face. “Okay, then i’m ready. What is it?”

“Close your eyes,” Dallon sang, sounding like he was talking to a kid rather than an adult, who was currently rolling his eyes.

“Jesus christ, fine. But it better not be some joke or I swear to god,”

Dallon just laughed again as Patrick followed his instructions and a few kids watched him pull the smaller man closer. Counting down from three, Dallon closed his own eyes before pressing their lips together in a kiss. The shock of it made Patrick’s eyes fly open, though he made no attempt at pulling away, and instead deepened it by moving slowly and melting into the kiss easier than he thought he’d be able to. Dallon smiled as he started to reciprocate it and squeezed his hips gently.

They only managed to pull away from each other after someone else in the room who’d had enough of it cleared their throat and someone younger made a gagging noise. Once they did, they met the other’s eyes and Dallon couldn’t help but cup the younger boy’s cheeks in his hands and place one more quick peck on his lips. A soft blush spread down both their necks and made either boy feel a bit intoxicated by just that moment.

“Merry Christmas, Patrick Stump without an ‘H’,”

“Merry Christmas, fucker,” Patrick retorted, no heat behind it at all as the words came out a bit breathlessly.

“You wanna leave now? There’s still those stupid movies-”


Patrick cut him off with a laugh and stood up after taking his hands. “Why even bother asking? Let’s just go.” Dallon nodded, letting Patrick drag him out the door, though not before sending a sultry look and a wink to Patricia and David right before he slammed the door behind himself.