The Emo Mafia

•Drink up•

Pete schedules an emergency meeting that same night, telling Joe over the phone to get everyone to the mansion immediately. There are quite a few things that he needs to discuss, but is uneasy when the topic of 'why Blurryface attacked' sprints through his mind. Everyone will be pissed at him, Joe will tell his dad, and the Mafia will go to shit. This is all Pete's fault and he knows it. But in some sense this is also his dad's fault, he shouldn't have put Pete in charge in the first place. So Pete isn't the only one to blame here. Everyone else can blame him but Pete will blame his old man.

He's pacing in the living room between the TV and coffee table, anxiously waiting for everyone to arrive. Patrick sat quietly on the couch watching Pete walk from one spot to another, muttering things to himself. He has an idea of what's bothering the other man but asks anyway.

"Something wrong?"

"Yes. Everything." Pete emphasizes, tossing his hands in the air. "I have to tell the crew about what happened the other night. Y'know, at the coffee shop. They are gonna be so pissed." He continues to pace.

"You don't know that for sure."

"Oh, but I do. Decision makin' is not my department, that's usually on Joe 'cause I make horrible decisions. I'm not cut out for this shit," He finally stops his continuous movement only to sit on the coffee table, hiding is face in his palms. "I need a fuckin' drink."

"Wentz, listen. People make mistakes, okay, there was a problem and you tried to solve it. There's no harm in trying."

Pete lifts his head and looks directly at Patrick. "Maybe not, but there's harm in everything I do. This isn't what I'm meant for."

"Then why do you do it?"

"To make my dad happy, so he'd be proud of me. I'm the only one who hasn't done shit with my life. My brother and sister, he's not ashamed to call them his kids. But me... I'm just a fuck up."

For the first time ever, Patrick actually feels bad for the guy. Never did he think that Pete would stop being a flirtatious asshole for a single second, but he was proven wrong tonight. And the situation makes Patrick want to comfort him, make him feel like he has purpose. So he gets up and sits beside Pete on the coffee table.

"You're not a fuck up. You just-"

Pete interrupts with a scoff. "What do you care, huh? You don't even like me."

"I feel bad, okay," Patrick blurts out before realizing it. "You always look so happy and you smile all the time, but now that you're not it makes me feel like shit."

The corners of Pete's lips twitch into a smile that widens once he turns to face the other man. Patrick sees Pete looking at him from the corner of his eye and turns to meet his face, smiling back without realizing it.

"Much better." He says to Pete's smiling face.

"You're gonna get me in so much trouble one of these days." Pete mutters before getting to his feet and heading toward the kitchen.

But before he enters he turns back and says, "I'm gettin' a drink, you want one?" waiting expectantly for Patrick's answer.

Patrick nods and follows him to the kitchen.

***

Twenty minutes later Joe and the boys arrive at Pete's mansion but don't see their boss anywhere in sight. Joe steps into the foyer and the others trail in behind him, the last guy in shuts the door.

"Pete?" Gabe calls out, peeking his head into the living room but sees no one. "Where the hell-"

"Ohmigod!" Pete shouts suddenly, a giggle in his voice, from the kitchen. Then tries and fails horribly at whispering to Patrick, "That's- holy shit, it's Gabe. Don't tell him I'm here."

"I can hear you, Pete." Gabe motions for everyone to follow him to the kitchen to see what Pete was up to.

Once they entered they saw empty beer bottles littering the island both Pete and Patrick were sitting at. A few shot glasses and a half empty bottle of vodka were sitting in between them.

"What the fuck is the fed doin' here?!" Joe shouts.

"Fed?" Pete slurs, looking toward Patrick. "Ooohhh, no no no, he's... (hic) he's not snoopin' or nothin' just- Oh fuck I gotta tell you guys somethin'!"

Pete is drunk off his ass right now. One drink turned into three, turned into six, turned into....ten, maybe? Pete lost count after six and apparently so did Patrick. Pete was a loud, happy, giggly, over-affectionate type of drunk while Patrick was the smiley, quiet drunk that nodded along and laughed at whatever the others were laughing at.

"Should I tell 'em, Red?" He asks Patrick who just smiles and shrugs. But Pete takes the gesture as a 'no'. "You're right, (hic) I'll tell 'em later."

"Pete should never be allowed to drink, ever." William comments to no one in particular but everyone agrees. "I don't think a meeting's happening tonight guys."

"Yeah," Joe says. "We'll hang here tonight, give him some time to sober up. The couch is mine though, called it." Then he immediately leaves to claim pretty much the entire living room. No one else wanted the couch anyway.

William and Gabe go downstairs to the extra bedroom in the basement while Travis takes the room closest to the staircase, leaving Pete and Patrick alone again. Pete makes a mental note to get more guys for his gang....then immediately forgets it. But on the brightside, he's still got half a bottle of liquor to drink and someone's ear to talk off.

"'Tricky, babe," Pete slurs then hiccups a couple times. Patrick hums in response, not even batting an eye at the pet name.

"You should leave that guy." He said randomly in a casual tone.

"Hm?"

"Your boyfriend."

Patrick actually starts laughing and Pete giggles a little because it's contagious.

"You're jealous of Brendon?"

"Of course I am." Pete admits quietly. "He gets to look at you everyday, wake up next to you everyday, kiss you everyday..."

Patrick's eyes go wide and he immediately stops smiling. Pete won't meet his eyes, staring down at the floor and biting his lip in a frown. Suddenly he doesn't seem so drunk anymore but he quickly tries to change the subject.

"Why'd you come here, Red?" He asks once again, finally connecting eyes with the younger man.

Patrick sighs loudly then turns in his stool so he's properly facing Pete. He hadn't realized how close they were sitting before. He hesitates to answer this time but Pete speaks again.

"Ya know what, you don't have to tell me. I don't really care anymore. But don't show up unannounced like that again, Red, it's too dangerous."

Patrick nods in understanding. "Do you really have to call me by so many different names?"

"What do you prefer I call you then?" Pete smirks then leans a little closer, enough to where they can smell the vodka on each other's breath.

"By my actual name."

"How about I call you 'mine' instead?"

"Not happening."

"Then I guess I'll just have to keep calling you 'princess', Princess." Pete grins and Patrick finds himself smiling back. He blames the alcohol.

"C'mon," Pete slides off his stool and holds his hand out to Patrick, who takes it without a second thought. "It's late. Let's go to bed."

Patrick gets to his feet and allows himself to be lead through the living room (where Joe is snoring loudly) and up the stairs, presumably to a bed. They both really need to sleep off this liquor.