Patrick, much to his surprise, actually ended up hitting it off with Pete.
They hit it off so hard they were in fact starting a band, they were going to call it "Fall Out Boy", and it was going to be amazing. Not only that, but Pete asked Patrick out.
As in, out on a date.
Assuming Patrick was straight, you'd probably think he wasn't too good with women. Assuming he was gay, you'd probably think he was even worse with men.
Both of those were true.
If he found someone he remotely liked, there was probably a chance he'd just be a blushing, smiling mess around them at all times, and it was awful.
Pete, as Patrick could tell so far, was a god dammed king of flirting. Everything he said was smooth, and blended right into the next thing. His smirk could probably kill someone, and he was funny as all hell.
Sounded like the perfect guy, and that's why Patrick was sure he was going to fuck up somehow.
The date came around. It wasn't anything fancy, Pete was just taking them out to coffee in the city. So then why did Patrick feel so nervous?
It was only 10:00 AM, because that's when Pete decided would be Patrick's death sentence in the dating realm (and really, who would wake up that early?), and some how Patrick was far from tired.
He was wearing what he would any other day, a sweater, jeans and his fedora, but for some reason he felt pretty good. Maybe it was because Pete had called him cute about seventy four times in the one day he'd met him.
"Hi," Pete greeted, flashing that award winning smile, and pulling Patrick into a gentle hug when the smaller man opened the door. Patrick hugged back gratefully, and closed the door behind him.
"Hey," he responded.
Pete only smiled down at him before commenting a quiet "You look great," that made Patrick's insides churn and his cheeks flush.
"You ready to go?"
The singer nodded.
The coffee shop Pete had decided was his favorite ages ago was nearly empty, spare ... well them. That's it.
"It's normally pretty dead," Pete sighed as they entered (he held the door out to Patrick, and Patrick almost passed out). The older bassist smiled politely to the girl behind the counter, and chatted her up like they were old friends, Patrick just browsing the basic menu.
After Pete had ordered Patrick stuttered out "large coffee with lots of room for creamer" and hurried to an empty table by the window. Pete looked at him questioningly as he sat down, but when he looked into Patrick's eyes, his face contorted to understanding almost immediately. "Anxiety?" he questioned.
Patrick nodded.
He smiled softly, nodding. "I get it. I can order things for you if it's that bad."
Patrick shrugged. "I should learn to get over it."
Pete raised an eyebrow, but held his hands up in mocking surrender. "If you say so."
They talked for a few minutes about the band before the coffee came out, and they both drank it greedily, like their caffeine intake was all they had keeping them up. Which was mainly true for Patrick.
"So. Tell me about yourself." Pete prodded.
Patrick looked up from his mug, setting it down slowly and sighing. He always hated this part.
"Um, my name is Patrick Stump-"
"Hey. This isn't an AA meeting. Just tell me about who you are." Pete interrupted. For some reason it put Patrick to ease.
"I'm a dog person," he began with a smile. "I have the worst allergies to, like, the entire world."
Pete chuckled. "I'm a dog person too."
"Well it's settled, lets get married," Patrick chimed, pretending to gather his things to leave, and they both laughed.
"What else?" Pete asked, when the laughter subsided. Patrick smiled, and in that moment he was willing to tell Pete anything.
