Fall Out Boy One Shots

21 Years (Part 2)

Just two and a half weeks left, Pete reminded himself as he waited for Patrick to answer the door. I can do this; I have to do this. I'll tell Patrick the truth and then whatever happens, happens.
Patrick opened the door with a phone pressed to his ear; he smiled and waved Pete inside while he kept talking.
"No, I'm not going anywhere this weekend, asshole," Patrick rolled his eyes and mouthed 'Joe' at Pete. "Yeah, exactly; I'm going to stay here and get laid and you can go fuck off."
Pete chuckled and looked around the living room while Patrick said goodbye to Joe; some pictures on the mantle caught his eye -Patrick at various ages and ones of someone who resembled him too closely to be anything other than family.
"My older brother Kevin," Patrick told him with an exasperated fondness in his voice that Pete understood completely. "He's in California, got accepted to UCLA a few years ago. He's already planning on staying there after graduation.
"Sorry about that," Patrick went on as he put his cell into the pocket of his jeans. "It was just Joe being a jackass as usual."
Pete gave into the urge he'd had since Patrick opened the door; he turned and kissed him, tracing the outline of Patrick's lips with his tongue until Patrick moaned and he took that as permission to deepen the kiss.
"Hi," he murmured when they broke apart to breathe.
"Hi," Patrick echoed and he smirked despite the way his whole face was flushed. "Want to go upstairs?"
Pete's stomach suddenly churned and he knew it was now or never. "Yeah, of course."
*
"Get out," Patrick told him, his voice flat. "I can't believe you would -just go. Please."
Pete left. What else was there to do at that point?
*
Pete laid in his bed and stared at the wall; only three more days until it was all over.
His whole body ached with the need to go find Patrick, but Pete refused to give in to it; Patrick had told him to stay away from him and if that was the last thing Pete could ever do for him, then he would be damned if he fucked this up, too.
He heard someone come up the steps to the attic; Pete didn't bother turning over when the door opened. It was probably just his parents to try to convince him to call Patrick again or go over to his house.
Pete mentally scoffed, like that would -
"Wow, dude. Have you even moved out of that bed this week?"
At the sound of Patrick's voice, Pete jerked and smacked his elbow against the wall when he turned onto his back.
"Patrick," Pete said in disbelief. "You're here."
"Yeah, I, uh, wanted to talk to you," Patrick told him, his voice hesitant. "You know, if you still thought I was..."
"My mate," Pete finished when Patrick trailed off; he shifted around until he was sitting up and patted the bed for Patrick to settle down next to him. "And, yeah, you are; no matter how much you might hate the idea."
"Yeah, about that," Patrick took a deep breath before he went on, "I wanted to say I'm sorry; I shouldn't have thrown you out like that. I was pissed and I still think I had a right to be, but doing that was shitty, so, sorry."
"It's alright, I understand," Pete assured him, smiling a little bit; even if his death was still eminent, he couldn't help but be happy that he got to talk to Patrick one more time.
"And this mate thing, I wanted to talk to you about that, too," Patrick paused for long enough that Pete thought he wasn't going to say anything after all.
"I thought you were lying to me and that pissed me off; I mean, it's pretty far out there. And I got myself worked up because every time I thought of you it would make me furious again. It took me almost all week to calm down.
"Once I was able to, I realized I was miserable; I missed you and that made me mad all over again, I was convinced that you trapped me or made me feel this way. It took me a couple hours to calm down enough to actually think clearly.
"And I decided I wanted to talk to you, find out what the fuck was going on -but I couldn't find you. No one had seen you in days and then Joe told me you weren't answering your phone for him, either; it took me a couple days to get your address from Joe and then a few more to get up the balls to come over here.
"Which, thanks for scaring the shit out of me, asshole; I thought you, like, skipped town or something."
"Sorry," Pete apologized, but it was hard to stop grinning like an idiot every time Patrick looked at him.
Even if nothing had really changed, Patrick was still here, was still sitting next to him and it was all Pete could do to keep from reaching over and touching him.
Mine, the non-human part of his mind hummed; as much as Pete hated that part of himself, he was forced to agree with it right now.
Patrick smirked at him fondly and shook his head before he grew serious again. "OK, I wanted to asked you a couple questions -if that's allowed?" he added, suddenly looking unsure.
"You're allowed to do whatever you want," Pete told him honestly and unconsciously moved closer to him.
"So, this mate...thing, what is it? Like, how do you know it's real?"
"Well," Pete paused for a long second and tried to figure out where to start; better to just start at the very beginning, he decided.
"One of my Dad's ancestors was Fae; well, part Incubus and part Fae, and, wow, that sounds fucken ridiculous when you say it out loud," Pete mused and then shrugged.
"Anyway, according to family legend, he -my dad's however many greats grandfather- used to sleep around a lot; he was supposedly a charming bastard, but fickle, you know? Always had to be moving onto the next, most times before the bed from the last one was even cold yet.
"You'd think it would have pissed someone off, but the Fae are different than us; they don't have the same rules about sex or monogamy, especially like it was back then, so they mostly didn't care and things went on like that for...however many years.
"And then he met a girl," Pete said and exchanged a wry grin with Patrick. "He met a girl and fell in love with her, but she was human and he very obviously wasn't. She didn't understand the way he was, how he could be so free with something that her religion and people said were suppose to be between man and wife. But she loved him, same as he did her, and wanted to be with him.
"So, he decided to marry her the way humans did and pledged himself to her and only her, and moved into a cottage with her; he farmed the land and was happy to live a simple life, as long as he was with her.
"Every once in awhile he would go back to the sithen -a place where Faeries lived," Pete paused to explain when Patrick shot him a confused look; other than that brief moment of confusion, Patrick seemed to be taking the story in, giving Pete all of his attention. Pete mentally preened at the realization, every part of him pleased with the idea.
"Because even though he loved her with everything he was, he was still Fae and still Incubus, and part of him always mourned for his home," he continued on, companionably brushing his arm against the other man's.
"One day, while his wife was asleep, he slipped away on one of his visits and there he ran into one of his old lovers who propositioned him and when he turned them down and swore to the Goddess that he would never touch another besides his wife, even after she died, they cursed him. Because the Fae may not care about who or what you fucked, but they hate rejection more than most do.
"Well, really, cursed everyone else in his family," Pete said, his voice bitter. "If we don't find our mate by the time we turn twenty-one, we die."
Patrick squeezed his shoulder comfortingly before he said, "Are you sure it's, like, actual, physical death? Couldn't they be referring to something -"
"My father's the youngest of five," Pete interrupted softly, but with no less bitterness than before. "And I only have one aunt on that side of the family; both of his brothers and his other sister dropped dead on their twenty-first birthdays. Surprise heart failure was the official verdict, I believe. Of course, it stops being a surprise when it happens almost every generation."
Patrick nodded slowly as if confirming something to himself; Pete watched eagerly, almost hungry for him after so much time away.
"So you said mate, what exactly does it mean? Is it like friends or..." Patrick trailed off when Pete looked at him with a sad smile.
"No, it means mate mate, soul mate is probably what they would call it if the curse was cast now," Pete answered; he tried to tell what Patrick was thinking but his face was blank and Pete couldn't figure him out. "My birthday's on the fifth, so -"
"The fifth," Patrick repeated, his voice angry; he stood up suddenly and Pete couldn't help the way his hand darted out, grabbing onto the leg of Patrick's jeans before he knew what happened. Patrick looked down at him with a slight smirk that made Pete blush and let go. "That's only three days away; what were you going to do, just lay here and – and die?"
Pete looked away and bit his lip; he wasn't going to lie but there was no way he could look Patrick in the face and tell him the truth.
"You -" Patrick faltered for the first time since they had started this conversation, apparently at a loss to find enough words to convey how idiotic he found Pete right now.
He shook his head and looked down at Pete for a long second before he seemed to come to a decision.
"I still don't understand this curse thing," Patrick said thoughtfully. "And, for the record, I'm still a little pissed about this whole, uh, situation -it doesn't give anyone involved any kind of choice and that's really shitty, but I," he paused briefly and licked his lips while he tried to decide exactly what he wanted to say; he grinned to himself when Pete's eyes followed the movement.
"I can't imagine you not being here, not being able to argue with you or text you whenever I want to; just the idea of you being gone, forever, is just something that I can't deal with. I don't want to know what it's like to think of you and feel this, this hollow place in my chest get worse and know that it's permanent.
"So, I'm telling you yes; I want to be with you, be your, uh, mate -although, dude, if you ever call me that in public, I will beat the shit out of you, fair warning."
Pete gaped up at him, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. "I -you -really?"
"Also, I'd really like to get laid, so if you could help me with that..." Patrick trailed off suggestively.
He rolled his eyes when Pete just kept staring at him; he sat back down on the bed and brushed his mouth over Pete's. It was brief, but there was no mistaking the intent behind it.
Pete made a startled noise and then grabbed Patrick's shirt and pulled him closer; they fell onto the bed, Pete moved over until his back was to the wall and Patrick could lay down alongside him.
"Really?" Pete repeated as he pulled back to breathe.
"Yes, really," Patrick assured him before he tilted his head and bit Pete's lip.
*
"So," Patrick panted a while later, after Pete collapsed onto his chest and they were both trying to remember how to breathe again. "Not that I'm complaining about the mutual blowjobs because Jesus fuck, your mouth, but what exactly does that, uh, curse thing say?
"I mean, if you dropped dead in a couple days because we didn't get around to doing whatever, it would suck ass. I'd probably end up shooting myself."
Pete rubbed his cheek across Patrick's chest before he lifted his head. "Um, the curse just says that I have to have sex with my mate. Well, originally it said that I have to find my mate and have my wedding night before my twenty-first birthday.
"But my parents didn't get married until they were both done with college, so."
"Well, I guess we'll just have to try a little bit of everything then," Patrick mused with a filthy grin.
"No wonder you're my favorite," Pete said gleefully as he stole another kiss.
Patrick moaned softly and slipped his hand into Pete's hair; he held Pete there as he deepened the kiss, pulling back only when he needed to come up for air. Pete made an unhappy noise and tried to catch Patrick's lips for another kiss.
"God, look at you," Patrick murmured; he pulled Pete's head back enough so that he could reach up and scrape his teeth down Pete's jaw. He stopped to suck a bruise where Pete's neck met his jaw and then pulled back to rest his head on the pillow.
"So hard already," Patrick trailed the fingers of his free hand over the hard line of Pete's dick, making him moan and strain against the hold Patrick had on his hair, "So eager for it. I bet you look gorgeous when you're getting fucked."
"Patrick," Pete said breathlessly, his tone begging. "I want -"
"Oh, I know what you want," Patrick interrupted with a smirk. He carefully flipped them over -the bed was only a double and falling off of it was one of the least sexy things he could imagine- and situated himself between Pete's legs. "You want me to hold you down and fuck you into next week, don't you?"
"I – yeah," Pete agreed with a small groan as Patrick rubbed his thumb over the head of Pete's dick; he tried to thrust up into the touch, trying to get more contact but Patrick just tightened his grip on Pete's hip and kept him pinned to the bed. "Fuck, Patrick."
Patrick pressed down on top of Pete, making sure his erection rubbed against Pete's. "Where's the lube?"
"In the -fuck," Pete hissed, arching up into the friction of Patrick's dick sliding along his. "In the drawer," he gestured towards the nightstand next to the bed.
Patrick opened the drawer and fished the bottle of Wet out; he poured some onto his fingers, then dropped the bottle onto the floor and teasingly pressed his fingertips against Pete's entrance.
He braced himself on his left arm so he could bite at Pete's jaw and mouth while he carefully worked one finger into him.
"Fuck, yeah," Pete said as Patrick pulled out and then came back with two fingers pressed inside him; he shoved his hips down onto Patrick's fingers and smirked when Patrick let out a startled noise.
"Don't think I didn't notice that," Patrick warned as he glanced up at Pete; he pinned Pete to the bed with one hand on his hip while Patrick slowly stretched him until he was up to three fingers and Pete was straining against his hold, barely coherent and cursing him.
"Please, Patrick," Pete begged, moving his hips as much as he could. "Fuck, I need you, come on, fuck me, please."
Patrick bit Pete's lip before he brushed his fingertips against Pete's prostate, making him gasp. "Come on, Pete, I know you can beg better than that."
*
When Pete was twenty-one, he spent his birthday asleep, curled up around his mate.