Lets Not And Say We Did

Ten

"So, what? I'm supposed to just go to brunch with him?"

Pete was in his bedroom. Staring at himself in the ceiling to floor mirror. Of course he was wearing a suit. A gray one. Because he thought gray made it more casual. His dark tie was done perfectly around his neck. Ryan stood to the side watching him

"Yes. Paparazzi has already been informed that you have a brunch meeting. They just don't know who with. They'll be there waiting when you leave the car."

"You know how I hate being bombarded with questions and flashes."

"Well this time you need to make headlines."

Ryan walked over and adjusted Pete's tie. Though there was no real reason to. Pete always perfected it. Ryan realized this and put the tie back as it was.

"This is going to be a tedious process, isn't it?"

Ryan ignored his question. "Make sure to get out of the car first so you can hold the door open-"

"Why would I do that?" Pete adjusted his cufflinks and turned away from the mirror. "Jefferson opens the doors."

"Who says chivalry is dead?" Ryan mocked.

Pete smiled. "Go check on the kid."

Ryan rolled his eyes. They'd lived together for three days and Pete still hasn't called Patrick by his name. Patrick's room was literally on the other side of the house. Pete wasn't kidding when he'd said he didn't want to deal with him. When Ryan finally walked into Patrick's room, he was frowning in his mirror.

"What's wrong?"

"I look like an idiot."

"You're wearing clothes that are only out in Paris right now."

"Well, I don't live in Paris."

"High fashion does though."

Patrick glanced in the mirror again. He looked like a clown. Pastel green pants, a purple button up with a white zigzag design in it. And if that wasn't bad enough, he was wearing a pink blazer. Ryan even made his style his hair in some ridiculous Ken doll style. So help him, the only normal thing he had on were the shoes. He tapped the toe of his shoe against the carpet.

"These are the only sensible things I'm wearing right now."

"Easy!" Ryan rushed over to still his. Foot. "Those are Gucci's!"

"What does that mean?"

"That they cost more than your little apartment."

"Why would shoes cost that much?"

"Because fashion. That's why. And hurry down to the main room. Pete is waiting for you."

"Got it boss." Patrick saluted.

"Stop touching your hair! And make sure to use the pink gloss for your lips."

Patrick grabbed up the lip gloss Ryan mentioned, and rushed for the hall. He didn't feel like himself at all. But maybe that was the point. He wasn't supposed to be Patrick, the struggling artist that lived in a shoe box apartment. He was supposed to be Patrick, the successful painter who dated billionaires.

Pete was indeed waiting for him in the main room. He was wearing a suit and tie of course. Gray this time. That's a nice change. Ryan was standing beside Pete. Whispering something frantically in his ear. When Patrick approached them, they both stood up straighter.

"You fix up nice." Pete told him in a dull voice.

"You look the exact same."

Ryan laughed. "The car is waiting. Pete, you're driving."

"No."

"It'll look better if-"

"No."

"Fine. Jefferson will drive you both to the restaurant. Hold hands going in. Smile. Laugh. Something to attract attention."

"Got it." Pete nodded.

"Don't answer any of the questions they ask. Go in. Eat. Come out."

"I know what I'm doing, Ryan."

"Maybe try a kiss or two?"

"No"

"Not happening." Patrick shook his head.

"You guys are supposed to be a couple!"

"Yeah, a couple of guys who are not kissing." Patrick crossed his arms over his chest.

"Stop or you'll wrinkle your shirt!" Ryan yelled at him.

"I'm not allowed to move!"

"You don't need to move in an outfit like that!"

"This is ridiculous!" He put his arms at his side.

"Stop whining." Pete groaned.

"I'm not!" He stopped his foot.

"Don't stomp around in those shoes!" Ryan ran his hand through his hair. "You are making this much more difficult than it needs to be, Patrick."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." Pete glared.

"Oh screw you Mr. Suit man."

"Was that supposed to be an insult?"

"Can we just get this over with?" Patrick sighed. "I'm getting a headache." The back of his hand came up to touch his forehead.

"Don't touch your hair!" Ryan shrieked.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!"