The Work Of A Fangirl (A Peterick Fanfic)

Bronx Is Here!

(Just a little important note so please read.)

*So yeah I know that in real life Bronx is actually 5, but in this fic I'm going to make it that Pete and Ashlee got divorced right after he was born and he'll be 3 for the sake of the story -Erin <3*

Patrick got to come home from the hospital today. They completed the surgery last night and had him stay until this morning. It really sucked to see him in pain like that, especially because the hangover started early. Bronx is still coming today, despite the "accident," so it'll be a busy one having to care for both of my boys.

I came downstairs and saw Patrick laying on the couch with the tv on quiet. It was the quiet where the show was only on for the background, like if you were trying to fall asleep.

I sat down slowly on the couch next to him and asked in a soft voice. "Hey, you having trouble sleeping?" I put my hand on his non-gauze wrapped hand. He slightly jumped, like he didn't even know I was there until then.

"Umm yeah I don't know I guess."

He seemed a little angry. I don't know why, and of course I didn't like it. I hated not getting to see my Patrick smile.

"Is everything alright?" I'm pretty sure I can guess the sarcastic answer I'm going to get.

"Everything's fine." Yep. There it is.

I slide in behind Patrick, honestly expecting him to push me away or move on his own, but surprisingly he turned towards me and melted into my body. His face was in my chest, and I could already feel his eyes tearing up through my shirt.

"Hey," I said in a whisper. "What's wrong Trick?" I was now running my fingers through his hair and loosely clutching the okay hand.

"I don't know why I got drunk last night! I don't know why I hurt myself like I did! I just don't know why!" By this point he was completely sobbing. I couldn't blame him really. A lot had happened over the last day and it must've been pretty nerve wracking.

"Shhh. Shhh. You're fine. I'm here. Shhh," I cooed, still running my fingers through his beautiful hair. I kissed his forehead and let him cry while I comforted him until he was asleep.

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I started to doze off myself until I heard a slight knock on the door. I carefully got up, making sure I didn't wake Patrick, then stepped out onto the porch where Bronx and Ashlee were waiting.

"Hi Pete, great to see you!" She said when I closed the door.

"Daddy!" I have to admit, even after Patrick crying himself to sleep, getting to see my son and him excited to see me, that brought a big smile to my face.

"Hey buddy!" I picked him up and held him on my side.

"So I got the news, how's Patrick doing? Is he alright? I knocked soft not wanting to bother him if he was recovering."

We conversed over what had happened and how he was feeling. To be honest, even though I didn't really want to get divorced with Ashlee, we are still very close and I do love her. I don't mean love like I love Patrick, but love like you love your siblings. There are times when you can't stand them, but they're family and you can't live without them.

"So have you found anyone special yet?" I winked at her. I know people talk about not wanting anything to do with their ex-spouses, or wanting them to be miserable, but for me being happy with Patrick, I want her to be a little happy too.

"Oh you know," she said smiling.

"Oh so there is someone..." Bingo.

"I couldn't call him "someone." We just met a few nights ago but he seems nice and I'm warming up to him."

"Well I'm really happy for you and I hope things go good for you and this "someone."

We wrapped up the conversation and Bronx said goodbye while I waved at the car that drove away.

Before we went inside, I told my son that he needed to be quiet because, "Pattycakes" was napping. I know it may sound odd that Bronx calls him that, but I didn't really have another choice. Before Patrick and I were together, he called Patrick, Joe, and Andy uncle. He still does that to Joe and Andy, but it would seem a little odd if he did it for my boyfriend. So one day I called Partick "Pattycakes" as a joke (because I know he hates it) and I just seemed to stick with my boy. Patrick still hates it when I call him that, but I think he likes it when Bronx does. I can really tell he loves him.

I walked inside and up the stairs, careful with my movements. Bronx went into his room to play while I went to cook a nice lunch for my boy and my crippled.