At Last: A Peterick Story

Chapter 5

Patrick thought they'd be seated with members of Pete's family that he knew but instead they're at a special head table because Pete's...singing. That's what the mother of the groom informs Patrick, when he's feeling awkward at this table where he knows no one and Pete is off getting them drinks.

"Right," Patrick says slowly. "Pete's singing."

"He's in a band, you know," the mother of the groom says to him.

Patrick should say I know, I'm in the band with him. Instead he says, "I know. I'm his date."

"Oh, right," she says, laughing. "Silly me. Of course you know about his band."

This woman apparently really doesn't know who Patrick is, so Patrick can't resist saying, "I hear his band is pretty good."

"That's what they say," says the woman vaguely. "I personally don't know it. It's not really my type of thing." She seems to have realized she might just have insulted Patrick's date and says quickly, "Oh, but I'm sure it's lovely."

"Yeah," Patrick agrees solemnly. "The band is lovely."

Pete arrives back with drinks and says pleasantly, "Hello."

"And you're Pete!" she exclaims. "We're so looking forward to your performance."

"Me, too," says Patrick, amused. "I'm very much looking forward to your performance. I've been telling the groom's mom here all about the lovely band you're in."

"It is a lovely band," Pete agrees.

"A bit of an acquired taste, though," says Patrick. "I mean, definitely not for everyone."

"Honestly," Pete says to the mother of the groom, "our music's a little iffy, but the lyrics are fucking fantastic."

"Oh," she says faintly, like she doesn't know what to make of him.

"The guy who composes our songs for us," Pete says, settling into his chair next to Patrick, "he can be a little out there. Like, just, a real mess sometimes. It's a shame. He really holds us back. We could really be something, you know?"

"It's true," says Patrick, "like, what's four number one albums and a bunch of top ten hits? Embarrassing, frankly."

"Enough about my failure of a band," says Pete heartily. "Let me tell you about my date here. Isn't he the best date in the entire room?"

"Other than your son's date," Patrick says politely. "The bride looks beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as Patrick," Pete says. "But pretty good."

"Okay," Patrick says, because the mother of the groom looks increasingly bewildered by them. "Don't mind him. He's drunk. You know how rock stars are."

"Drunk on Patrick fucking Stump," says Pete. "I'm besotted."

"Well," the woman says, smiling gamely. "Maybe we'll be going to your wedding next."

Patrick laughs.

Pete says, "You'd totally make the guest list."

The woman excuses herself to go talk to people she actually knows and aren't annoying.

Patrick turns to Pete and says, "Tell me more about this terrible songwriter you've got in your band."

"Why?" asks Pete, sipping his drink. "Want to do some songwriting for me?"

Patrick leans back in his seat. Pete's arm is draped across the back of it, which is kind of nice. Pete's turned toward him, his eyes riveted on him, and Patrick's conscious again that Pete has this way of looking at him like he's the only interesting thing in the room. Patrick can forget that sometimes. Pete always looks at him like that, Patrick can just get so used to it that he forgets how extraordinarily nice it is. But he's in a room of mostly strangers and Pete's gaze is familiar and his presence pitched toward him is comforting.

Patrick wants to say something cute and funny, because that would fit the tone of the conversation, but he instead says, "Yeah. I'd do...all the songwriting for you."

Pete smiles at him. "Deal," he says.

It's...a moment. Patrick doesn't know what to do next.

He's saved by a woman sticking her hand out at them and saying, "Hi, I'm Matilda, I'm the sister of the groom, I don't think we've met."

Pete drops his arm away from Patrick's chair so he can shake Matilda's hand. "I'm Pete. This is Patrick."

"Pete who's in, like, the band and is going to sing," says Matilda. "I assumed you were probably, like, artistic." Matilda's gaze lingers on his suit jacket.

"That's me," says Pete happily.

Matilda looks like she's going to say something else but they're interrupted by more ringing champagne flutes and everyone having to take their seats.

Patrick murmurs in Pete's ear, as there's some kind of introduction moving into a toast, "None of the groom's family has any idea who Pete Wentz is, apparently."

"It's awful, isn't it?" Pete whispers back to him. "They're awful people."

"This is clearly why you got asked to sing," Patrick says, and Pete laughs.

"Shh," Matilda hisses at them, glaring daggers at them.

"Sorry," Patrick mouths to her.

Pete is bad at laughing, in that once he gets started, he can't stop. He puts his hand on Patrick's knee and curls into him so he can laugh against his neck, and Patrick's almost okay with the fact that they are now the center of attention.