Peterick OneShots

Sorry For The Mess

Prompt: "I'm on the verge of tears because of a very rude customer and you step in to defend me"

Trashy Highschool-ish AU (Patrick is 18 and works at a local pizza joint, and Pete is the 23 year old college stoner student there to defend his honor.)

TW: food, alcohol m, slurs (f-slur, excessive swearing, etc) theres a hint at drugs but nothing big?

~~~

Patrick supposed he couldn't be blamed. It was lunch rush, and lunch rush was always the worst, but today it seemed more so. With at least twelve people standing at the counter, every table occupied, and the phone ringing off the hook, the fact that he hadn't messed up more orders should honestly be an achievement. However, he did mess up at least one, and the guy was pissed.

He was very obviously drunk. Patrick figured there was a football game on or something; it would explain the excess phone calls the shop was getting. This guy seemed more pissed about his pizza being wrong than missing the game, however, because he had no problem holding up the line just to yell in Patrick's face.

"Did I fucking say pineapples on my pizza? Do you have a fucking hearing problem or something?"

Sighing, Patrick tried to keep himself calm and professional."Sir, it was an honest mistake, if you'd like we can-"

"No! No, it was you being a fucking piece of shit that doesn't know how to do their damn job! You're such a little cunt, why the hell they hire fags like you is beyond me."

Well ouch. That one stung a little more than the other insults thrown at him. By now, of course, the entire restaurant was staring, all eyes on Patrick and the extremely angry customer.

Swallowing hard to keep his voice from breaking, Patrick tried to regain control of the situation, glancing at his coworkers to shake off any help. They needed to work, not worry about him.

The door jangled open as soon as he attempted to speak again.

"Sir, if you could just please calm down? I promise we can get you another pizza, if you'll just step to the side-"

"Fuck you! I want my goddamn money back, you piece of shit!"

Patrick didn't have time to duck before the box was thrown in his face. The cardboard hurt honestly, the pizza still a little too hot as it slid down his face and across his front, making a mess of the entire counter. He couldn't hear the gasps and murmurs over the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, and he tried to force the tears in his eyes not to spill over. He just wanted to go home.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" This was a different voice, and Patrick wiped his eyes to try to focus on the man currently speaking.

He wasn't much taller than Patrick, with short black hair and tattoos, but he seemed pretty fit, and he seemed really pissed. His fists were balled at his sides, and he was facing the drunken man.

"What the fuck are you, five? Its fucking packed in here, dickwad, they're doing the goddamn best that they can? Did your mother raise a fucking monkey, what the fuck is wrong with you? Throwing pizza at a fucking kid? Really?"

The man was shocked now, mouth opening and closing. The tattooed guy stepped closer, and Patrick could almost see him shaking with rage.

"Y'know what no, fuck you, fuck your refund, fuck anything you have to say. Get out before I call the fucking cops." The drunken man stammered before cursing, calling the guy a few words before storming out of the shop. A few people cheered, but the tattooed man paid them no attention, and walked up to the counter instead.

Patrick could see now that he was a really handsome guy, his features no longer angry but tired, and concerned. He spoke softly, brown eyes meeting Patrick's.

"Are you okay? Can I help you, like.. I have a shirt in my car you can wear if you want, until your shift ends?" Patrick nodded gratefully, untying the apron before following the stranger outside. Patrick's eyes stayed glued to the floor, not wanting to see the crowd of people staring at him. The really hot and really sweet stranger led him outside, leaning inside of a beat up van to look around for a shirt. Patrick tried and failed not to stare at his ass; jeans shouldn't be that tight, at least not without restricting bloodflow, but it seemed this guy could get away with it.

The guy returned, offering the shirt to Patrick before leaning over and pulling some napkins out of the glove box. Wordlessly he started wiping at Patrick's face, his large hands warm and gentle. Patrick felt himself flush, tears finally spilling over, but he said nothing. Smiling, the man met Patrick's eyes, taking off his hat to brush hair out of his face.

"My name's Pete by the way," he said softly, frowning at the hat before leaning back into the van. He pulled out another trucker cap, handing it to Patrick.

"Patrick," he mumbled, fitting the cap snugly onto his head. "Thank you for helping me, you didn't have to.."

Pete shrugged, hands in the pockets of his jeans. "No problem man. You didn't deserve that shit."

Patrick smiled gratefully, getting a blinding grin in return. Pete bit his lip for a moment before clearing his throat. "If you want, when your shift ends, I can give you a ride home? It's supposed to be pretty cold later anyway so.." Patrick blushed and shrugged, smiling gratefully up at him.

"I, um.. I suppose? I could t-text you when I'm off.." Pete beamed, holding his hand out for Patrick's phone. He fumbled for a moment before pulling it out of his pocket and handed it over, smiling down at the contact name Pete had given himself.

"Peter Pizza?" Pete grinned, shrugging. "I'd have used 'cute pizza guy' but that's what I was gonna make your contact, so." Patrick blushed, trying to hide the smile on his face. Pete was beaming, bright smile seeming to be stuck on his face. Patrick liked it.

"So, I'll see you later?"

Patrick nodded, mood greatly improved from what it was.

"Sweet," Pete smiled, clapping his hands together," So! I'm gonna go order pizza before my roommate kills me in a munchie induced rage, and you need to go change shirts. And text me."

Patrick giggled and nodded, still smiling. He led the way back into the restaurant, slipping away to the bathroom before anyone could take notice of him. Pete's shirt fit him pretty well, even if it was a bit snug in some places. It smelled like cologne, and Patrick tried not to start crushing too hard on his savior.

When he returned to the front, Pete was gone, but there was a little note in his tip jar that Patrick kept looking at until it was time for him to leave.

In a messy scrawl, Pete had written "so I figure a pizza date is out of the question, but if you ever wanna grab coffee, you have my number?" the note was followed by a smiley face, a heart, and a little doodle of a vampire bat in the corner.

Blushing, Patrick finally sent Pete a response. "If you don't come pick me up, I'll freeze, and we can't go on that coffee date tomorrow :) "

Pete pulled up in the same van as before, grin still stuck on his face, and the heater cranked up. The entire ride to Patrick's house was full of questions about where to meet tomorrow for coffee, and Patrick had never been more grateful for shitty customers in his life.

~~~

so the ending sucks but that's fine i guess, i wrote this in like 15 minutes as a warm up. i love crappy aus like this agh they give me life. ANYWAY, thanks for reading this, let me know if you have a prompt or comment, and i hope you have a lovely day!!