Peterick Oneshots.

An Attempt At Nail Painting Spirals Out Of Control Into A Colorful Madness

Patrick padded out of the bathroom, towel slung over his shoulders and his hair slicked back wet and soaked. His lips curled into a small smirk when Pete came into view, neck crooked to hold a phone to his ear, mashed into the junction of his shoulder as he let out tiny acknowledged grunts. Pete being in the midst of painting his nails, three fingers already finished.

Pete's head gave a slight tilt when he noticed Patrick, his eyes widened as he almost drops the phone in the process but staggered to keep it in place. "Fuck," Pete swore loudly when he takes notice of his newly smudged nails.

"Ugh," Pete said as he capped the polish and pushed it aside and then went back to making the same monotone sounds in assurance to the seemingly oblivious counterpart. Patrick hopped onto the bed, eyebrow raised in amusement. Pete eyed him for a moment before his mouth dropped open into a gasp and he pulled his head away from the phone briefly and said, "Dude, you should paint my nails."

Patrick groaned in response and Pete clasped his hands together, the phone giving a small wiggle from the action as he fluttered his eyes beseechingly. "C'mon Rick," Patrick chewed at the inside of his cheek and his eyes squinted slightly, expression thoughtful.

"Do I have to?" Pete nodded and stretched his arm back to grasp at the recently discarded polish and then thrust forward towards Patrick's frame, "Pleeease," he begged, his lower body wiggled and his knuckles twitched as the pleads became more insistent.

"But I don't know how to--" Pete shook his head quickly, "No, no, it's not hard," he promised, "just gotta have steady hands." Pete grinned holding up his clearly trembling hands and Patrick's sure it's from the three cups of coffee currently in his system. Caffeine and Pete don't mix.

"Ugh," Patrick echoed and grimaced lightly as he reluctantly took the polish. "Why can't you--like, get Andy or someone--" Pete rolled his eyes at that, "For one thing, you're here and two, Andy is off doing whatever vegans do."

"Joe?" Patrick tried, hoped really.

Pete waved a hand, scoffing, "Probably high...or asleep, one of the two." Fuckin' shit.

"God damn it, fine." Pete's arms flew up in victory, but he ended up flinging his phone across the room as if he were a trampoline and the phone was the poor soul in distress.

"Oops," Pete said, cringing when he hears the phone make rough impact with the wall. "Really?" Patrick stared for a few seconds, not even surprised and or angered. He really only wondered what was so interesting about that conversation in the first place.

"Who the hell was that on the phone anyway?" He asked, uncapping the polish and unintentionally succeeding in dripping it onto his fingers. "You're bleeding death," Pete said as his mouth formed into a mock gasp and wiggled his own fingers in a spider-like fashion to emphasize the fact. "And I forgot who it was after about twenty minutes, so..." Patrick let out a snort of laughter at the answer.

"Am I finally emo too?" He asked, expression of delight yet so obviously sarcastic, "Can I finally join the club?" He demanded as a wide grin curled upon his lips.