Senior Slump Or Comeback Of The Year

Oh Baby

Pete knocked on the door as softly as one should at 6:30 in the morning. He'd woken up no more than thirty minutes ago. Taken a shower that would make water conservatives proud, flat ironed his hair just enough to hide his natural curls and applied an admitably extensive amount of eyeliner. He hoped his all black attire made his look scream this is my aesthetic and not I'm a hot fucking mess. 

Mrs. Stump opened the door looking more chipper than should be legally allowed before 8:00 am. She looked pleasantly surprised to see Pete standing at the door. He was an hour earlier than normal to pick Patrick up. For reason other than he missed his face and didn't want to wait until 7:00.

"Good morning, Pete." Her smile wavered a bit as she took him in. And yeah, maybe he should have looked in the mirror before trudging to the outside world.

"Good morning, Mrs. Stump."

"Patrick is just getting up I believe. " She glanced down at the watch on her wrist. Checking to make sure it was as early as she thought it was. He lips pursed. "Yeah, he's usually threatening his alarm clock at this time."

"Good." Pete's eyes darted towards the top of the stairs. Waiting for the woman of the house to give him permission to go up. "Good."

"What brings you in so early, hun?"

The pet name made him feel a little warmer inside. Patrick's mother always used them so frequently. Barely thinking as the endearment slipped from her tongue. A stark contrast from Pete's mother who'd sooner throw her credit card at him than she would compliment him. 

He contemplated making up some excuse but decided the truth worked just as well.

"I missed him."

Her sigh and dramatic move of placing both hands over her heart showed that he made the right choice. "That is so sweet." She reached out to touch his cheek with one of her hands. "You are the sweetest. I'm so happy my son has you."

And damn if that didn't make turn him cherry red. "I-Thank you. I'm happy I have him."

"Go on upstairs." Her hand went from his face to his shoulder. Gently nudging him in the direction of the steps. "I"m gong to start on some breakfast. Do you like oatmeal."

Pete grimaced. "No ma'am."

"I don't either." She shrugged. "But Patrick has developed a craving for it and so I make it every morning. What would you like?"

"Toast in fine."

"Nonsense." She pushed at his shoulder more playfully this time. "I'm going to make you pancakes. Is that okay?"

"That's perfect."

"Perfect!"

Pete wasted no time rushing to Patrick's room as soon as his mother's back was turned. He darted up the stairs two at a time. Almost stumbling when he made it to the top one. 

Patrick was indeed mumbling blasphemies to his beeping alarm clock when Pete peeked into his open door. He swatted at the device twice from his place under the blanket before realizing it wasn't going to work. His boyfriend practically threw the blanket from his body when he sat up. His palm coming down on top of the clock hard enough to shake his nightstand.  Pete muffled a laugh from the doorway.

He watched in curious fascination as the boy in front of his wobbled, yes wobbled, off of the bed and towards his mirror. He was wearing a pair of lose fitting basketball shorts. Which was weird because in all the time Pete had known him, Patrick didn't sport. His top half was covered by a black graphic t-shirt that looked suspiciously like the one that went missing from Pete's closet a few days ago. He couldn't help the fluttery feeling that soared through him at the way the shirt didn't quite fit over his boyfriend's belly. It stretched to the best of it's ability but left an inch or two of the rounded skin exposed.