The Beauty Behind The Psycho's Creation

American Beauty/ American Psycho

(Pete's POV)

We weren't together. We were simply two bros who were hanging out. A lot. Getting lunch or dinner... Sometimes breakfast. Depending on how dinner went. Yeah, just two bros. More than occasionally making out and fucking the shit out of each other. Just two bros. Because Patrick is afraid of a title. He thinks it'll put us back in the same situation. So we're taking the relationship title slowly. Complete bullshit. But if it makes Patrick happy, I'll do it.

Because I did mess up. I'd gotten MJ pregnant while we were dating and now she was due in just a few months. Megan understood our relationship. Sleeping with her was a mistake but our kid wasn't. I would never refer to a child as a mistake. Not matter how 'aren't alright' Patrick thinks they are.

Of course Joe and Andy were the only ones who knew about Patrick and I. Even though we'd never come right out and admitted it to them. We'd even kissed in front of them. We didn't even admit to being together before Megan got pregnant. That was just our business. And Joe and Andy were good with pretending not to know. They always were.

"How are you feeling now?" Patrick asked from beside me on the couch.

"I have all the same symptoms. Except now I feel all drugged up."

"Hey" he stood up from the couch. "You were the one who asked for cold medicine." I didn't follow him into the kitchen. He was just going to get a drink anyway. Like always. Confirming my assumptions, he reentered the room with a glass of dark liquid.

I'd had a cold for approximately 20 hours now. My nose was stuffed and running. My throat was dry and almost sore. My eyes watered like I was watching The Notebook. And now my head was cloudy because my make shift doctor, Mr. Stump, overdosed me on the cough medicine. Hopefully it'd be a 24 hour bug. But I was still happy to be spending an entire day alone with him. No managers, no producers, no studio, no other guys. Just Patrick and I.

"Can I have a kiss?" I leaned in close when he finally sat back down.

"No." He moved away. "You're sick."

"Just a little cold." I leaned even closer.

"No. Pete, stop!" He laughed pushing me off of him with his free hand. "I need my voice. You don't!"

"On the cheek then?" I batted my eye lashes.

"The cheek?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Yeah..."

"I don't trust you." He laughed, finishing off his cup and sitting it on the floor beside the couch.

"Scout's honor!" I held up my right hand.

"You were never a scout."

"You got me." I tapped my chin. Pretending to think. "You kiss my cheek then."

"I don't-"

"Unless you're afraid you won't be able to keep your lips in one place." I teased.

"Oh please." He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll kiss your cheek.

"Thank you."

I turned my face to the side and waited for him to purse his lips and come closer. His eyes closed. And when there was only half an inch between us, I turned to that my face was facing his. His lips brushed against mine and I did a victory dance in my head.

I'd expected him to realize what I did and push me away laughing. But that's not what happened. Instead, as soon as Patrick's lips touched mine, his hand latched onto the back of my head and pushed our faces closer. I groaned at the contact. He pushed me back on the couch so that he was hovering over me. My legs opened wider to make it easier for him to position himself between them. I don't know how long we stayed like that. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. But we did eventually have to pull away for air.