Regular Prince Charming // patrichie

regular Prince charming

Warnings for: manipulation, use of ketamine as a date rape drug (probably not a very accurate portrayal), Patrick fucks Richie's mouth in a cramped space and it gets a little rough and messy towards the end, Richie can't consent or fight back because he's been drugged.

Crashing a prom two years after his own graduation isn’t exactly Patrick’s idea of a fun Friday night. They’re hunched under the stage, and the band that plays above their heads has been off-key all night, but at least they make enough noise to drown out Belch’s bitching about the busted tail light on his Firebird.

Patrick didn’t go to his own prom, none of them did, and looking at the sea of teenagers in their tuxedos and frilly dresses, swaying awkwardly to the first slow song of the night tells him he didn’t miss out on a damn thing. He fiddles with the cap of his flask as he drags his eyes across the dance floor, searching, searching, and ding ding ding, there they are. All the Losers have shown up for the dance in their rented tuxedos, and Patrick is kind of impressed to see that all of them have managed to score a date. The only one who’s missing is the wheezy kid who disappeared somewhere between ‘92 and ‘93, either because he left town or dropped dead, Patrick doesn't really care.

Not when he can entertain himself with the pure comedy that is Richie Tozier trying to dodge every awkward show of affection his date attempts to shower his way. Patrick snorts as Richie uses his gangly arms to keep her as far away as possible. There’s enough room for Jesus and fucking Buddha between them as they sway left and right, left and right.

There have been rumors about Richie Tozier since middle school, graffiti on bathroom walls and spray painted slurs on his locker door. Patrick can take credit for a lot of them, and he's pretty sure they're more than mere rumors as he observes the open panic on Richie's face when his date finally manages to rest her head against his shoulder, her crimped ponytail brushing against his chin. Richie abandons her on the dance floor before the song has hit its chorus, and his friends call after him as he makes a beeline for the exit, unaware of the curious eyes that watch him from the shadows under the stage.

Patrick puts his flask away and cracks his knuckles. Maybe the night can be salvaged after all. He snatches Victor’s comb from his back pocket and runs it through his greasy hair, arranging it behind his ears.

Henry lowers his bottle of Jack as he observes Patrick’s grooming. “You've got a hot date or something?”

“You could say that,” Patrick says, leering at his friends over his shoulder as he pushes through the tinsel that hangs over the edge of the stage.

There are a couple of stragglers in the hallway, making out against the lockers to the rhythm of the tinny music echoing from the gym. Patrick shoves his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and gives the little face-suckers a wink as he walks past them. He’s been gone from Derry High for two years, but the kids part from their kiss and plaster their backs against the lockers, staring at him like he’s wanted by the FBI.

And Patrick's definitely got a reputation, one that he’s worked hard to foster and grow since he was old enough to give a kid in his class a bloody nose. Most of the shit people say about him is true, but there are some exaggerations in the mix, and if people want to believe that he tortures small animals and eats babies for breakfast, well, it all works in his favor. Even the adults in Derry avert their gazes when Patrick and his friends make an appearance.

He sees Richie slip behind a row of lockers down the hall just as the girl he abandoned on the dance floor marches out of the gym, the angry clack-clack-clack of her heels bouncing off the walls as she looks for her lost date.