Dick Pics (Peterick) **REWRITTEN**

07

if anyone's confused, pete has a cold, and his coach isn't letting him play because the weather could make him
worse and he wouldn't be able to play even more games if he got sicker.

also it's february in this story because they're playing baseball, and baseball is played in the spring.

CH. 7 -- PETE

"Pete, what were you thinking?" Coach almost yells. Patrick winces from the chair by the bed I'm currently laying in.

"I don't know, Coach. I'm sorry." I say, and he shakes his head, turning to look at Patrick.

"Don't apologise to me, apologise to the team. You're not playing in the first game." Coach says, and Patrick's eyes widen.

"Baylor's gonna kill us without me!" I say automatically, and Coach narrows his eyes at me.

"Exactly. But if you do play, we'll risk losing you for the rest of the season. And I'm not explaining this to the team, you are." Coach says. He gets up from where he was sitting beside me on the bed and walks over to Patrick, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're not playing either."

"That's unfair!" I say quickly. "Patrick did nothing wrong. He took care of me and even texted you and told you that I wasn't okay."

"There's no use in tiring him out in a game we aren't going to win. He's going to sit the bench alongside you so that both of you will be at your best the rest of the series. Understand?" Before I can protest any further, Coach shakes his head and walks out the door.

"Patrick." I say after a considerable amount of time. He just shakes his head and stands up.

"Don't, Pete." He simply says, grabbing his jacket from his closet. "If you so much as get out of that bed to take a piss, I'm beating your ass, sick or not." He walks out of his room shortly after that, slamming the door behind him.

I feel so fucking bad. Because of me Patrick won't get to start tomorrow, and that's really unfair. He's one of, if not the, best players on the team. He deserves to start ahead of Bryar's ungrateful ass.

I lay down with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. I really wish that I could go find Patrick and apologise, but I'll risk our friendship and the rest of my season. I wish I could've just stayed in bed when Joe left. I always make bad decisions, and they end up being worse for other people than they are for me.

--

"Feeling better? We need you tonight." Andy says, taking my bag from me as I walk. I'm bundled up in about seven hundred layers thanks to Patrick, who threatened to beat my ass if I didn't listen to him.

"Yeah, about that.." I trail off, and Coach interrupts me before I can tell Andy anything.

"You will tell everyone once the flight takes off." He says, taking both mine and Andy's bags once we get to the plane. He hands them to another man and lets Andy go up first before walking behind me as I go up so I won't fall.

Patrick and Nick, Ryan and Spencer, William and Travie, Brendon and Kenny, Tyler and Josh, Ray and Mikey, Gerard and Frank, and Bob and Biersack are already sitting in their seats, talking amongst themselves. Andy takes his normal seat, and I sit next to him.

"We're about to take off. Seat belts on." Coach says before sitting down in his seat, following his own directions.

By the time we're at 30,000 feet, the chatter has quieted down, and some people already have headphones in. Coach stands and waves his hands to get everyone's attention.

"Pete has to tell everyone something." He says, and then he offers his hand out to me to help me stand up. "Go ahead, son."

"Neither Patrick, nor I will be starting tonight." I rush out, and everyone's eyes widen, whispers breaking out.

"Quiet, quiet." Coach says, and then he makes me continue, as if everyone's glares on me aren't bad enough.

"I was selfish and didn't stay in bed when I was sick, which means that I'm not physically able to play. But with Patrick, that was my fault, too. I'm not starting, so as another consequence, much worse than just me not being able to play, Patrick is unable to play also. It isn't his fault, so don't go blaming him. If you have an issue, approach me about it." I explain, and then I sit down, plugging my headphones in and not waiting for Coach to say that everyone can go back to what they were doing.

I shake off the glares still being thrown my way as I shuffle my Metallica playlist, closing my eyes when The Day That Never Comes comes on. I apparently doze off after that, because it seems like a few minutes later, there's a tap on my arm.

"Yeah?" I ask, pulling one of my headphones out of my ear. Andy gestures to his seatbelt as he talks.

"We're landing. I couldn't reach your buckle." Andy says, and I nod, silently thanking him as I buckle myself back in.

"How are you feeling?" Patrick asks, sitting in the other seat beside me. I blink twice to make sure he's actually standing there and I'm not just dreaming.

"I'm feeling better. Thanks." I say, and he nods, going to stand up again. I stop him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Why do you care?"

"Just because I'm not starting because of you doesn't mean we aren't still friends. And I need you to be able to play tomorrow." Patrick explains, ruffling his hair. It looks messed up like he's been running his hands through his hair too much.

"You look like shit." I comment, and he just nods at me. "You alright?"

"You're so romantic." Patrick deadpans, actually standing. He turns back to me at the last second to say, "I haven't been sleeping much. Got a lot of shit on my mind. But thanks for asking."

"Anytime." I say, but it's useless since he's already making his way back to Schimeca.

I'm glad I didn't fuck up Patrick and I's relationship even worse and that he can still actually stand me enough to speak to me.