Lets Not And Say We Did

Twenty Nine

The sound of the door saved Pete from having to respond to that. They all sat in silence as they listened to one of the maids answer it.

"Can I help you, sir." She asked whoever was at the door, politely.

"You know why I'm here, Roberta."

"For the last time, my name isn't Roberta!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Cruella."

"Wait right here so I can tell them you're coming. They're just in the kitchen. Just wait."

"What? Why? I don't need to be announced like some sort of princess. Wait, maybe I do. Go and say The queen has arrived! And I'll walk in real sexy and queen like."

"I don't get paid enough for this." She sighed. Ryan laughed at that.

"You know what? Move, I'll do it myself."

"Sir-"

"The queen has arrived!" Brendon's voice traveled through the house.

He came sashaying into the kitchen. Hands on hips and head held high. Patrick exploded with laughter. Ryan was smiling at him. Pete didn't look impressed.

"Brendon, please stop torturing my staff."

"Hey, Angry Bird in there started with me!"

"And please don't call them names!" He sighed.

"Be still my beating heart." Brendon gasped. One hand over his beating heart. "Where is your suit?"

Pete just smiled. Lifting the coffee cup to his lips. Brendon gaped at him openly. Eyes traveling from his bed hair to his bare feet. Should a man be allowed to look so damn yummy?

"Watch those eyes." Patrick playfully warned his best friend.

"His eyes aren't what I'm watching, darling."

"Brendon!"

"I'm kidding!" He turned away. Rubbing down his face with one of his hands. He sat at the table on the other side of Ryan. Picking up the magazine he'd left down. "You look good here, Pat."

"Thanks."

"So what are we doing today? Photoshoot? Interview? Fashion show?" Brendon asked excitedly.

"We don't really have anything planned." Ryan told him.

Brendon finally looked over at Ryan. Having ignored him since he entered.

"You look like the gay stick to a gayer lollipop."

"Why do you have to hurt me?" He laughed. "You know I look good."

"Maybe." He shrugged. "Maybe purple is your color."

Ryan grinned. "You like?"

"The color." He shrugged again.

"Oh, Brendon. Brendon. Brendon." He shook his head and sighed. "I'm going to fuck you. And just because you've been so mean to me, I'm going to do it so so hard."

Brendon's eyes narrowed. "I don't get fucked." He leaned in closer to Ryan. "I fuck."

"Oh please. You're the most obvious bottom I've ever seen." Ryan laughed.

Brendon smiled darkly. "If I ever decide I'm desperate enough to fuck you, I'm going to break you. Pretty boy."

"I'm so uncomfortable!" Patrick yelled. Placing his hands over his ears.
"I second his discomfort."

"You two are uncomfortable?" Ryan scoffed. "I walked in on you this morning."

"Shut up!" Brendon squealed. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

"We were fully clothed!" Patrick blushed.

"Were they loud?" Brendon ignored his comment.

"Not at all."

"Really? I've always pictured Patrick as a screamer."

"Really? I don't see it."

"We didn't have sex." Pete rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Actually, he is a screamer. Once, in highschool, I walked in on him and Andy. And he was yelling at the top-"

"ENOUGH!" Pete's voice boomed through the large kitchen. He slammed the cup onto the table. A crack spit through the side of it. Coffee was leaking down it. "Why don't you two ever know when to shut the fuck up?"

Silence followed his outburst. Patrick was staring at him with wide eyes. Brendon looked angry. Ryan seemed weary. As if he'd seen it all before.

Pete stormed out of the kitchen.

"Anger management needed much?" Brendon waited until Pete was far enough away to say it.

"He just hasn't had his morning cocktail." Ryan told them.

"He drinks in the mornings?"

"I'm going to go check on him." Patrick stood up.

"Nope. Not a good idea. He's probably in his office throwing chairs and punching walls. It's better to just leave him."

Patrick nodded. Which was his way of telling Ryan that he heard and understood the warning. But then he turned to follow after Pete anyway. Which was his way of telling Ryan he didn't care.

When he opened Pete's office door, he was yelling or throwing chairs or punching walls. He was staring out his grand window.

"Pete?"

"Leave." He didn't even turn around.

Patrick stood his ground. "I, uh, I can make great cocktails."

"And I bet you could drink it twice as fast."

Patrick didn't let the cheap dig get to him. "No, I meant I could make one for you."

"I don't like cocktails."

"But Ryan said you needed your morning cocktail."

Pete turned around to face him. He didn't seem as angry anymore. He actually looked like he might consider smiling.

"Ryan is a moron."

He didn't look upset. So Patrick cautiously began walking up to him. Pete just stared at him with bored eyes.

Patrick placed his hand over Pete's chest when he was close enough to. Because that was something Andy used to do to soothe him. But also partially because he wanted to feel Pete's chest under his hand.

"I want to help you."

"You can't." He smiled sadly.

"I-I can try."

"I have insomnia, bipolar disorder, anxiety and depression. I take pills for it. And I take them all in the morning. Ryan calls it my morning cocktail."

Pete didn't know why he was telling Patrick any of this. The only people who knew about it were Ryan and the doctor that prescribed them.

He expected Patrick to politely excuse himself from the room. Or slowly back away and just leave. He'd even understand if he ran from the room running and screaming. Because he probably thought Pete was crazy. And he was crazy.

What Pete didn't expect was for him to step closer and place his other hand on his chest.

"Do you want me to get your pills for you?"

"You don't think I'm crazy? You don't want to run away screaming?"

"If I didn't leave when you were possessed by a ghost, I'm not going to leave now."

Pete smiled. He leaned his head down so that their foreheads were touching. It was like Pete could feel his heart melting under Patrick's palm.

"Thank you, ghost buster."

And in that moment, he liked the kid. In a way he'd never liked any woman before. In a way he'd never liked anyone before.