Me and You Against the World (Book Five in the Peterick Mpreg Series)

Yule Shoot Your Eye Out (Varying POVs)

AN: Okay, so as I said in the previous chapter, this chapter is the last. Don't fret though! You know there's going to be a sixth book. I'm so excited about that book, actually! As I said before, the plot has been set, the people have been set as well, then the book cover has been made. I hope you're all just as excited as I am!

Alright, so since this is the last chapter, I wanted to make it special. In this chapter, we'll be skipping ahead a few months, just so you know. And I really would like to get everyone's point of view in here, so that's why it's varying POVs. I really hope you have all loved this book just as much as I have, and really, thank you all for the votes and comments. I appreciate all of it!

I'd also like to thank Felice (@TheSummerITurnedPunk) for helping me through the chapters that I had trouble on. If you haven't read her books, then you really need to! They're so amazing, as is her writing.

So, without any further interruptions, are we ready for the last chapter of the fifth book in the Peterick Mpreg Series?

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(Patrick's POV)

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I'm going insane right now. There's so much to do, so many things that need to be done. I'm trying my best to keep calm, but I know it's not working. I'm about two seconds away from having a complete blowout, honestly. I know I shouldn't be worked up, really, but everyone knows me; they know I get too worked up about simple things. Even with everyone here helping me, I still feel like there's way too much that needs to be done. I knew Pete and I shouldn't have volunteered to host Christmas Eve dinner.

I'm currently in our kitchen, running around like a mad man, trying to get everything cooked and ready on time. Really, more than half of what I've made is cooked already, but to me, it seems like it isn't. Yes, Pete, Jaimee, and even Nick have been helping me, but since I like things to be done a certain way, I wind up kicking them out of the kitchen. I feel bad, but I know they understand.

"Babe, are you sure you're fine?" Pete asked, walking into the kitchen.

"Yes," I sternly said, pushing him out of the kitchen. "I'm fine."

"Take a break," he insisted.

"I can't," I said.

"Patrick, come on. They're not going to care if we eat right when they get here or a half hour later," he said.

"Well, I do," I said.

"Patrick," Pete said.

"Peter," I said.

"Stop. Please, just sit down and take a break," he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the kitchen.

"Pete, please," I begged as he sat me down on the couch.

He just looked at me, then I sighed, admitting defeat. I grabbed the towel I had on my shoulder, then threw it down on the coffee table. Everyone else sat down too, just kind of staring at me. Pete took a seat right next to me, pulling me into his arms and stroking my hair. A few minutes later, I started to get comfortable and relax a little more, but then little Jackson's crying came through the baby monitor. I groaned and got up, even though Pete was protesting, saying he'd get it. I ignored him and ran up the stairs anyway.

"Shh, shh, shh," I said as I picked Jackson up in my arms.

He stared at me with his big eyes for a split second, then continued crying. I rocked him back and forth in my arms, trying to calm him down. I know he didn't need to be changed, because Pete had changed him just ten minutes before, and he had just eaten too. In hopes of trying to get him to stop crying, I sat down in the rocking chair, right below the picture that Dallon had painted.