Saturday // Peterick Oneshots

81. Anxiety vs. Affection

Alright, angst time. Trigger warnings for anxiety and some self-loathing, and referenced bad eating habits. IOH era.

Pete is shivering. He's not sure if it's because the heater on the bus is on the fritz, or if he's in a cold sweat from his anxiety, or if the meals he's been skipping because he's too nauseous to eat are finally coming back to haunt him. He hopes it's the first option. He pulls his blanket around himself tighter.

His heart is racing, too. He almost had a full-blown anxiety attack a few hours ago, when he first laid down to go to bed, but he managed to talk himself down enough that he didn't have a complete breakdown. He's trying to keep his breathing techniques in mind, trying to force his heart to slow, but it doesn't seem to be working.

Pete tosses and turns. No matter how he lays, something is angled the wrong way, or there's too much pressure on one of his limbs.

"Pete?"

Pete freezes, a wave of guilt crashing over him.

The last thing he wanted to do was wake up Patrick.

Patrick knows about his anxiety, of course. It was hard to hide the moments of panic that left him tired and wobbly, or the days when he barely ate because his stomach couldn't handle it, especially considering they're in a relationship. But it's so hard to reach out to him; even though he knows Patrick cares, Pete feels weak asking for help, and he berates himself for not being able to deal with it on his own.

The bunk curtain moves, and Patrick peers in. Pete doesn't try to fain sleep. "Do you want me to come in or do you want space?" Patrick asks quietly.

Pete swallows the lump in his throat. "Come in. Please."

Patrick crawls into the bunk. Pete lifts his blanket and shuffles closer to Patrick, pressing himself against Patrick's warm body. He shivers at the contact, and relief floods him when Patrick wraps his arms around him, pulling him in and holding him tight.

"Has your anxiety been acting up?" Pete knows Patrick knows the answer, but he's glad Patrick asked instead of just stating it. This way, it doesn't sound like an accusation. Pete nods, pressing his face to Patrick's neck. "I'm sorry, baby. I wish I knew how to help you more."

"It's okay," Pete murmurs, sighing when Patrick rubs his back. "You're always here for me, and you do the best you can."

For a little while, they lay together in silence. Pete doesn't think he can drift off to sleep yet, but it's peaceful enough that he starts to feel calm again.

"Hey, can I try something?" Patrick asks.

Pete lifts his head. "What?"

Patrick pauses for a second. "You know how you said you feel like, isolated and unworthy of love when you're anxious?" he asks gently.

"Um, yeah," Pete says awkwardly. He remembers that conversation: he'd been in tears, overwhelmed because Patrick had gone out of his way to make sure Pete felt comfortable enough to get down some cereal and take a nap.

"I want to try something." Patrick sits up, shifting Pete onto his back and straddling him. "Can I take off your shirt?"

Pete blinks. "I don't know if I'm up for—"

Patrick shakes his head. "That's not what I'm getting at, I promise. Just, please? Let me?"

Pete hesitates, then nods. He sits up, and Patrick helps him pull off his shirt. He shudders as soon as the air of the bus hits his bare skin. A wave of self-consciousness hits him when he wonders if Patrick will be able to tell how many meals he's skipped just by looking at him. Patrick folds up his shirt and lays it as his feet, then leans down and covers Pete's body with his own. Pete sighs at the weight pressing him into the mattress and wraps his arms around Patrick.

When Patrick sits back, Pete lets out a whine at the loss of contact. Patrick shushes him gently, then presses a kiss to his forehead.

Then his cheek.

Then his shoulder.

Patrick trails kisses down Pete's arm to his hand, then kisses his palm and the tips of his fingers. Pete's stomach swoops, but not in a bad way. "Patrick?"

"Is this okay?" Patrick asks, squeezing Pete's hand and stroking his side with the other.

"Yeah, I think so," Pete says with a small shrug. Patrick grins softly, moving to kiss the crook of Pete's elbow. Pete smiles back, letting his eyes fall shut to bask in the affection.

Then, Patrick starts whispering.

It takes Pete a moment to tune in completely, and at first the words are lost on him, but Patrick seems to sense this and raises his voice enough that Pete can hear him. His tone is gentle, full of love and comfort. Pete has to focus hard to make out the words, and when he does, his heart slams against his chest.

Patrick is whispering a mix of compliments and reassurance into Pete's skin between kisses. A kiss at the base of his ribs is followed up by "You're going to be okay." A kiss to his sternum leads to "I'm so proud of you, baby." Patrick kisses his shoulder and says, "I wouldn't trade you for the world," and Pete melts, whimpering.

Patrick keeps going, covering Pete in kisses and soft words, rubbing his palms over Pete's skin to keep him warm, and Pete feels so loved and so safe in Patrick's hands.

Fuck, it's too much. Pete feels like he's going to explode. Patrick is too warm and too sweet and too caring, and Pete doesn't know what he did to earn someone like him at his side. He doesn't know what he did to earn such compassion. Tears spring to his eyes, and his breath hitches.

"Shh, it's okay," Patrick mumbles against his chest. He lifts his head and comes back to Pete's face, kissing him softly on the lips. Pete can't help it when a sob breaks loose from him.

Patrick sits back, stroking a hand through Pete's hair. "What's wrong, baby?" he asks softly. "Can you tell me what you're thinking?"

Pete hiccups. "Don't deserve you," he says, voice shaky. "I-I don't, I— you're too good to me. You're too good for me."

"No, no, Pete, that's not true, I promise." Patrick's voice sounds heartbroken, and Pete feels guilt bubble up in him again, but before he can voice it, Patrick says, "Look at me."

Pete opens his eyes. Patrick leans down and connects their foreheads. His eyes are all shadow in the darkness of the bunk, but they're filled with love. Pete takes a shuddering breath and puts a hand on the back of Patrick's neck, pulling him into a kiss. Patrick kisses him back with fervor. He trails his fingertips down Pete's sides, making him shiver.

Patrick breaks the kiss, holding Pete still when he tries to chase him. "Pete, you do deserve me. You deserve someone who loves you and wants to help you when you're down. You deserve to feel loved and cared for."

"But—"

"You're a good person, Pete. You're good, and strong, and smart, even when you don't feel like you are. Even when you feel like you can't be."

Pete sobs again. Patrick wipes away his tears and kisses his cheeks.

"Pete, I love you so, so much. That doesn't change just because you have a breakdown and need extra support." It's whispered into Pete's skin, overwhelming him sweetly.

Pete just nods, pulling Patrick to him again.

Patrick repositions them. They're on their sides, with Pete tucked against Patrick's chest. Patrick pulls the covers up around them, then wraps his arms around Pete, cradling him. He runs his hand up and down Pete's spine, humming softly.

Pete's tears dry, eventually. He kisses Patrick's chest and whispers, "Thank you."

Patrick tips his chin up and kisses him, hard. "I love you, Pete." He kisses the bridge of Pete's nose, then his forehead. "And eventually we're going to talk this through, okay? Because I don't want you walking around thinking you don't deserve me."

Pete nods. "Yeah, okay. I love you too, Patrick."

Patrick fixes him with a long, love-struck look. "Get some rest," he says finally.

Pete nods, burrowing further into Patrick's chest. Knowing he'll wake up with Patrick next to him makes falling asleep a lot easier.