Irresistible (Peterick/side Trohley)

11

Word Count--1017

"Patrick, please wake up," I can hear Pete, but I can't see him. "You have to wake up, baby, please," I try to do something to let him know I can hear him, but I can't see or move or do anything. So I just lie there and listen to him cry for what seems like forever.

SIX HOURS EARLIER

"Good morning, beautiful," Pete says, kissing my forehead. I smile at him and hand him his cup of coffee with about two thousand pounds of sugar in it.

"Good morning, better looking than me," I say, rolling my eyes at him. He smiles and looks around before leaning in to kiss me.

"I love you," He tells me when we pull away, resting his forehead on mine.

"And I love you, gorgeous," I grab the hand that doesn't have coffee in it and pull him to our office.

"What are you--oh," He starts but stops when I push him against the door and kiss down his neck, untucking his shirt.

"Wow, okay," Wait, why are Andy and Joe in our office? I groan and pull away, looking at the two of them.

"Get out, or I'll give him a blowjob in front of you two," I command. Andy's eyes go wide as he and Joe hurry out of the door.

As soon as they're gone, I have him back against the door. Since we're at work, we have to be quiet. I love watching him struggle to be quiet when he wants to moan loudly. Especially when he unravels under the impression of my mouth. It's hot.

"Okay, so, we have an arrest that needs to take place, and Armstrong wants you two to do it. Said Patrick needs field work," Andy says as he beats on our door several minutes later. I smirk at Pete before re-buckling his pants for him. I open the door to see Andy with a knowing look on his face. No doubt he heard us.

"Shut up," Pete mumbles before Andy can say anything. I just smile at both of them as I adjust the ring on my finger. We're supposed to get married in three months. I can't wait.

"Yeah, well, the guy's name is Monroe. Drug dealer. Be careful," Pete hands me a gun. Holy shit. I haven't ever been authorised to carry a gun. I stole one off of Zack just in time to save my life, but I meant to shoot Zayn in the leg, not between the eyes.

"Okay," Pete simply puts his holster back on and pulls his jacket over it before lacing his fingers with mine. "You ready?"

"Born ready," I say, even though I'm nervous as all get out. I walk confidently to our car. I have this. Besides, what's a drug dealer going to do to me anyways?

"Stay in the car, Patrick," Pete warns, getting out. I nod. I can do that. As long as he's back in less than twenty minutes with a douchebag handcuffed.

I fuck around with my phone for that twenty minutes before realising that I haven't heard a sound. Not a peep. Where the hell is Pete?

"Pete?" I call into the seemingly abandoned warehouse. He's been gone for more than twenty minutes, and if anything were to happen to that dipshit, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. "Pete?" I say again, louder.

I hear footsteps behind me, and when I turn around, I don't expect to be hit with a two-by-four in the nose. But I am. I instantly fall to the ground and pass out.

--

"Ah pretty boy's awake, huh?" A man asks rhetorically, hovering over me. The first thing that comes to mind is Pete.

"P-Pete," I get out somehow, making the man just laugh. He smiles a dirty, nasty, yellow-toothed smile at me. I cringe.

"Oh, you mean Popsicle? I could fucking eat his hair," He laughs darkly, looking at me intently. I don't like it. It creeps me the fuck out. "He's still at that warehouse. I knocked that son of a bitch plum the fuck out,"

"F-Fuck you," I breathe out, trying to free myself. It's not helping very much, as my wrists just become harder to move.

"You're actually fucking hot, you know?" The guy asks, moving in to kiss me. I bite his thumb as hard as I can when it caresses over my bottom lip. He yelps in pain. "You fucking bitch! You're going to pay for that," He raises his left hand and hits me hard, making my nose poor blood. Fucking great.

"H-Help," I whisper, because that's all I can do. He repeats the process until he becomes blurry, and I don't feel the pain anymore.

I'm close to passing out when the door to wherever the hell we are busts open and there's a bullet in the guy's head before I can move. The last thing I see before everything fades to black is Pete's pink hair.

RIGHT NOW

"Patrick, please wake up, baby. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I can't lose you," Pete chokes out in between sobs.

I try to do anything to let him know I'm not brain dead or whatever they've told him. I can hear everything he's saying, and I want nothing more than to be able to say it back.

I focus on putting all of my attention on moving one of the fingers in my left hand that Pete's holding. I try and try, but nothing happens. I keep trying until I hear Pete gasp.

"Patrick?" He whispers. I do it again. I squeeze his hand again. "Patrick!" This time I know it's not a question as he shouts it. Then I feel a hot breath against my face as he whispers, "I won't let anything ever hurt you again, sweetheart, I promise,"

And I believe him because if there's anyone in the whole world I can trust until I die, it's a germaphobic, horny alcoholic, popsicle named Pete Wentz.