Book of my favorite Petericks

Sleepless

It doesn't take much to get Patrick to sleep. Unfortunately, it also doesn't take much to wake him up, either. And once he's awake, he's awake, and won't sleep until the next night. Pete on the other hand is more stubborn and can't simply fall asleep to the motions of the bus. Pete can't really fall asleep at all. Nightmares and graphic visions scared him into insomnia as a child, and even as an adult, they still haunted him. And when Pete couldn't sleep he would kick around in the bus, and make as much noise as possible until Joe, Andy or Patrick woke up. It was usually, if not all the time that Patrick would bolt upright in his bunk and crack his head on the ceiling of the traveling bus, as he always claimed top bed. Pete would be delighted that Patrick was always the one to be woken up first.

"Oh, I'm sorry, 'Trick, did I wake you?" Pete asked innocently, though his voice was crunchy and harsh from being awake too long, and screaming too much. Patrick would give Pete a look of utter disgust and agitation, but sat up, to rub his head and give Pete more room. Pete would crawl over Patrick and lay next to the window. They were cramped and uncomfortable, but Patrick's bunk always smelled like the burning battery of a laptop and to Pete, that smell was comforting and familiar. He breathed in deep, and then sincerely apologized to Patrick just like he always did. "I really am sorry. How's your head?" Pete brought his fingers up to rub Patrick's forehead, hat free, long wisps of hair fanning around his face.

"I'll live," Patrick grumbled and turned toward Pete. Smiling, Pete rolled over, his back to the window as well. "Why'd you wake me up tonight? Another nightmare?" Patrick asked. His voice was much less aggravated and a lot more soothing. Like when he sang. Pete slowly, lazily closed his eyes and nodded. He was holding back tears, just like always. Patrick slid his fingers between Pete's and squeezed. "It's not real, Pete. You're okay."

Pete never believed people when they told him that. He was never really okay. Nothing was ever okay. Nobody lived in his head like he did.

"What if I fall asleep, Patrick, and then can't wake up again?" Pete's nightmare had felt so real, he wasn't sure it was actually a fantasy. Pete opened his eyes with urgency to be sure Patrick was still there. Pete bit his lip, and glanced down at their hands as he spoke. His voice was thick and rasp coated. "Can I stay here?" He looked back up at Patrick for the affirmative answer he knew he was going to get.

"Of course, Pete," Patrick nodded. "Yeah." Patrick knew it was hard for Pete to sleep. Patrick had only had one nightmare in his whole life and it was enough to scare him awake for three days of his summer vacation. Having nightmares all the time, every time he closed his eyes was too much for Patrick to even think about. The least he could do was let Pete lay with him. It was always a little uncomfortable, as Pete liked to stare right into Patrick's eyes, almost like a staring contest. Patrick always wanted to look away, but couldn't. And when he tried to reposition himself to turn away from Pete, he felt rough fingers turn his cheek back. Patrick never understood why Pete liked to be around him so much. It was Patrick or a walk in whatever town they were in.

"Patrick?" Pete whispered, a little more excited, but still very lazy. "Take a walk with me. Please?" His eyes begged, heavy, dark circles under them, and Patrick had inkling that it wasn't just eyeliner. "Come on. We'll walk...." Instead of moving, Pete gripped Patrick's hand even more tightly, and shifted closer to him. Patrick's stomach twisted around and knotted a little bit.

"The bus is still moving, Pete," Patrick said, and even he was let down, chest heavy. Walking around aimlessly and watching stars was something that not only helped Pete sleep, it also kind of kept him sane. Pete would form a gun with his fingers, close one eye "for better aim" and shoot down one star at a time. He swore they all landed in Patrick's soul, and that's why he did it. "To keep you special," Pete would say.

Pete nodded. "I know the bus is moving, but... Can we take one of our walks? Um. Just down the street, in the park? Please, 'Trick?" Pete had slid his hand around Patrick's neck, and softly told Patrick how warm he was. "It's all the star dust. It makes your temperature go up." Pete fell silent, and then, "Please? We won't be gone long." Finally, Patrick nodded and shut his eyes after Pete did.

"With me?" Pete whispered, and he sounded winded or breathless. Patrick's favorite part about walking with Pete.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm with you, Pete," Patrick answered, and really he wasn't, because he wasn't in Pete's head, but Patrick would wing it, and open his eyes when he was sure Pete's were closed. "The grass is greener than before," Patrick invented, as he slowly opened his eyes. He watched Pete smile, blind.

"The leaves all fell, though. It's cold, Patrick," Pete complained and his brow furrowed. Patrick pulled the blanket up to Pete's shoulders. "Thank you," Pete whispered. "You always bring an extra jacket." Patrick smiled sadly. "It smells like you," Pete sighed. He breathed in deeply and Patrick nodded. "Patrick, let's count stars," Pete pleaded, his voice quiet. Patrick smiled more brightly this time.

Pete made a gun shape with the hand that was still wrapped around Patrick's. Patrick formed a gun shape against Pete's hand as well. "Go ahead, Pete," Patrick rubbed his thumb against Pete's and made a soft gun shot as Pete recited "One, two, second star on the right..." Patrick smiled as Pete made the Peter Pan reference. Patrick forced out another soft gun shot sound effect, and Pete claimed he saw the spot, the curb where they used to sit when they were kids.

"See it, Patrick?" Pete asked. Patrick nodded, and whispered a yes when he remember Pete's eyes were closed. "Let's got sit down."

"Still counting stars?" Patrick asked and shook their weapon shaped hands around a little. Pete nodded and mumbled a 'yes' through his barely open mouth. Patrick nodded and finally shut his eyes to join Pete. In his mind, Patrick pulled an image of himself and Pete sitting on some deserted corner on the curb with a streetlight above them, stars sparkling above them. "Didn't walk much, tonight, Pete," Patrick observed.

Pete shrugged. "I'm really tired," and he snuggled closer to Patrick, and smelled the day old shirt on Patrick's chest. "I can't sleep, Patrick. It's too hard." Patrick's chin was in Pete's hair, course and thick, like a well bred dog. Patrick smiled to himself, but it wasn't pleasant.

"Walking isn't helping? Or the stars?" Patrick asked, only coming up with one more solution for Pete's insomnia. He felt Pete shake his head from side to side. No, stars and walking with Patrick in a place that didn't exist wasn't helping. "What if I sang something, or...? Hummed?" Patrick offered. Pete picked his head up slowly, giving Patrick enough time to pull his chin up so that nobody was got hurt from too quick a movement. Pete started his staring contest again.

Patrick felt his face flush, maybe crimson. He tried to look at anything but Pete, but he knew better. Their hands were still stiff, and in a gun formation. Pete leaned forward and kissed Patrick, just a brush of his lips, but it was enough to send all kinds of chills down Patrick's chest and to his stomach where the knots loosened. Stars and walking were forgotten, and both Pete and Patrick seemed to snap back into reality when Pete dared to slide his tongue gently across Patrick lips. This was real.

Patrick unwound their fingers and pushed forward to kiss Pete harder, but it wasn't frantic or needy. Patrick noted that he hadn't ever really been kissed like this before. It felt like a ghost of a kiss, slow and chilling. And Pete was really tired; it was felt in the way he moved his lips and held Patrick's hand. Pete hadn't ever really been kissed quite like this either. Pete was almost desperate to come up for air and held, gripped Patrick's hand, and Patrick hissed in pain and finally pulled away.

"I'm sorry," Pete pulled his hand away and bit his already almost nonexistent fingernails. "I'm sorry. But... You just... You can't die. And I can't let you leave, Patrick. I can't do much without you... Don't. Don't leave me." Pete burrowed himself into Patrick's chest again, and he shook violently. Patrick came to the sick realization that all of Pete's nightmares were about Patrick's death. His heart went cold for Pete, who sniffled. "Don't leave.... Stay with me. Patrick, promise you'll stay here."

Patrick promised, and all he could do was hold Pete as he cried, and reassure him that nobody was going anywhere. Not unless one of them was there to shoot down stars with the other.