Saturday // Peterick Oneshots

16. Bonfire

So yeah, liarsandfakes and I have a new Peterick fic up; it's on their account if you wanna check it out. Anyway, here's a bit of fluff. TTTYG era.

Pete looked up at the stars while trying to suppress his shivers. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should've brought a jacket to Joe's family cookout, but he didn't. He also didn't bring a change of clothes, despite Joe's warning that it was a "pool party-slash-cookout." In summary: we was cold and wet. The fire he was sitting by was doing nothing to help either, because for a summer night it was chilly. The wind would blow and make him shudder with the force of an Earthquake, and he was getting fed up. He didn't want to complain though, because miserable as he felt, he was surrounded by Joe's family and didn't want to betray their hospitality.

"Hey, I was wondering where you'd run off to." Pete looked beside him to see Patrick settling down next to him. He, Pete noted, was the only other non-Trohman here. He figured band members must count as family.

"I was actually waiting for you. I didn't want to run away without you, Tricky. It wouldn't be right," he joked, smiling.

Patrick rolled his eyes, then paused when he looked at Pete again. "Are you...shivering?" Patrick asked.

"No," Pete said too quickly.

"Oh my god," Patrick groaned. All of a sudden he tugged off his hoodie and held it out to Pete. "Here."

Pete blinked. "What."

"It's obvious you're fu-freaking freezing," he began, censoring himself when he remember Joe's kid cousins sitting across from them. "Just put it on."

"Awww, thanks mom," Pete joked. It was a ruse to mask how grateful he was, because admitting he should've brought a coat to the currently rational, motherly Patrick was the last thing he wanted to do.

Besides freeze to death of course, so he put on the hoodie.

"It actually looks pretty good on you," Patrick commented. "Sorry if it reeks, it's my favorite and I haven't had the chance to wash it," he added sheepishly.

Pete discretely buried his nose in the sleeve and took a deep breath. It smelled, sure, but it didn't smell bad; it smelled like Patrick.