Madness of Two ~ a Peterick AU

two

Sunlight slanted into the room in the morning, and Patrick blinked open his eyes. His glasses were pressing against his face, and he had a hellish headache. What happened last night?

He remembered chugging a beer to calm him nerves at the party.
And another. And another. And another.
After that it was blurry.

Where even was he? Those weren't Patrick's posters he was staring at, and these weren't his red bedsheets... he rolled over, and was shocked to see Pete curled on a pile of towels on the floor. His hair was messy and his eyeliner was even more smudged than usual, but his sleeping expression was pure tranquillity.

Patrick's heart skipped a beat. Why was he in Pete's room?

They were both fully dressed, so Pete had probably just taken an extremely drunk Patrick home for a place to sleep.

Patrick hoped he hadn't embarrassed himself in front of Pete. Confessed his undying love for him, or sang to him, or something.

He looked at the clock (hard to find on the poster-covered walls) to find that it was ten in the morning.

Pete groaned and dragged his eyes open, blinking the sleep away.
"Hi." Said Patrick awkwardly, voice scratchy from sleep.
"Morning." Pete replied.

It was one of those moments where Patrick would have been grateful for anything to break the awkwardness. Like, if the ground opened up, or a fire started, or a plane crashed into the house. The silence stretched on.

"What happened last night?" Patrick asked. It was a few beats before an answer came. Pete was still groggy.

"Well, you were just wasted after we finished playing, and I figured you needed a place to stay. You wouldn't tell me where you lived, so..."
Pete mentally kicked himself. He sounded so creepy.

"Sorry - playing?" Patrick asked.

"Oh, uh, the DJ's stuff conked out so we had to, uh... form a band." Pete nodded to his bass, leaning against a wall in the corner.

"But what did I - oh God." Patrick winced. "Did I really sing? In front of everyone?"

"Yeah." Pete said. "I don't know what you're worried about, your voice is... amazing."
He kicked himself again, cringing.

"Really? Thanks." Patrick said. Patrick didn't think he could blush any more at that point.

"And thanks for... uh..." He didn't know how to put it. "Taking me home?" He said it like a question.

"S'okay, man." Pete replied, rubbing his eyes.
"I hope I didn't, like, throw up on you or do something embarrassing..." Patrick cringed. Pete thought of the kiss but managed to let out a little laugh.

"I'd better get going." Patrick said, sitting up and retrieving his now mysteriously stained fedora from the floor.

"Yeah, um, do you mind taking the window? It's easy, there's a tree out there..." Pete sheepishly asked.
"Of course." Patrick, ever the gentleman.

Pete went to the window. The latch required some jiggling.
Awkwardly, Patrick put one leg through the window, then the other, and eased himself down to the platform Pete had made between two branches when he was 12.

Patrick somehow managed to land flat on his ass with a thud and a few warning creaks, but he scrambled up, blushing, and climbed down the rest of the tree. Pete was still watching out the window, and Patrick looked up from the floor, one hand on his fedora, and said "Thanks, Pete." In a meaningful way that was like a shot of adrenaline to Pete's heart.

Pete had sent Patrick through the window because at this time of day his mom would be eating a poptart in the kitchen before work and his dad wouldn't be fully drunk yet. And neither of them would really be pleased to see a strange boy had slept in Pete's room after a party. He hoped it hadn't been rude or anything - he was used to sending people out the window the morning after parties, but those people he didn't care about.