The Emo Mafia

•Did we...?•

The next morning Pete awakes to a killer headache and the too bright sun. The sun was always an asshole when Pete first woke up, but today he just really wanted to punch it out of the sky. Since he obviously couldn't do that, he settles for rolling over away from the window out of pure instinct.

Last night was such a blur that he didn't remember much of anything that happened, he was surprised he even remembered his own name. So one could only imagine how weirded out and confused Pete was when he felt someone breathing softly against his face. He figured it could've been Joe standing beside his bed waiting for him to wake up, but dismisses the thought because Joe is not that big a creep. Gabe would though, maybe. But he can't remember if his gang stayed over after he called about that emergency meeting. He'll just have to fill everyone in later.

Another soft breath ghosts over Pete's face and it's so subtle that he could ignore it and go back to sleep but he's wondering who it is. He didn't bring home some drunk broad did he? As many times as he's done that before he hopes he didn't do it last night.

He cracks his eyes open, slowly because the amount of sunlight filling the room burns his eyes. The first thing he sees is a pink, smooth, obscene looking mouth and his first thought is to kiss it but he refrains from doing so. Then he backs up a little to get a full view of their face and his heart nearly stops.

Patrick is in his bed, while Pete is also in the bed. That alone could mean so many things and he'd be leaping with joy if he could remember why the man was literally sleeping with him. It actually frustrates him, they could've had mind blowing sex last night for all he knows and he couldn't even remember it. That is a new form of torture. Damn, why'd he have to drink so much?

All Pete does for the next five minutes is stare at Patrick's calm, peaceful, gorgeous face in hopes that it'll spark something in his brain but it doesn't. It doesn't deter him from staring though. It actually makes him wish he could look at Patrick every morning but he'd never admit that, if he hasn't already.

He thinks about waking him and telling him to get home to his boyfriend, who is probably worried about him. But he doesn't. Instead he scoots closer and gently wraps his arms around Patrick, burying his face in the warm crook of his neck. He breathes in and instantly inhales Patrick's scent. It's sweet and faint but it's there, intoxicating. Now he really wishes he could wake up to this every morning. His eyes drift shut but he doesn't fall asleep, just dozing.

Patrick stirs a little at the sudden feeling of body heat against him. He doesn't remember much from last night either but he does know that he's not in his own bed, and that the body against him isn't his boyfriend. But he doesnt move, the sturdy person against him feels too good, the bed is extremely comfortable, the blankets are soft and cozy. He's kind of glad he's not in his own bed, his bed doesn't feel nearly this good. But he also feels a little guilty that he's being held by someone else. Not guilty enough to get out of bed but still somewhat guilty.

He blinks his eyes open, careful not to open them too much or else he'll get a wicked sunburn on his retinas. He doesn't see a whole lot, just part of the ruffled covers behind the person wrapped around him and slivers of tan skin and tattoos. He reaches his left arm up and curls it around the man's waist without much thought, while the other arm is trapped under their body. Patrick sighs contently, finally deciding to address this man.

"Wentz?" He says calmly, not freaking out like Pete would have guessed.

Pete's half asleep so he doesn't respond with actual words. "Hm?"

"We didn't...y'know...did we?" The question is vague but Pete understands what Patrick meant.

Pete makes a dismissive sound, then murmurs, "And if we did?"

"Wouldn't be the worst thing I've done."

Pete chuckles lightly. "I could only imagine." Then he sighs and backs away from the younger man, unwrapping his arms from Patrick. "You should probably get home, Red."

"Probably. But man, my ass is killing me."

Pete's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and his cheeks turn as red as his skin will allow. "We- no way, we didn't. Shit, I-"

His studdered words get cut off by Patrick suddenly laughing. Pete looks at him confusedly, like he's gone mad.

"I'm kidding." Patrick laughs. "I feel fine, I don't think anything happened."

Pete heaves a breath, half of relief, half of disappointment. Then he smirks deviously.

"You sure about that?" He says, glancing down at his own chest where his tank top scoops below his collarbone. "Looks like someone got a little eager last night."

Patrick's laughter fades as he looks down where Pete's eyes are directed, then nearly chokes on oxygen when he realizes there's a red-purple mark on Pete's skin.

"Did I..." Patrick whispers in  astonishment, cheeks flushing pink.

"Well, considering it wasn't there before we started drinkin', I'd say you did." Pete is nothing if not amused and a little turned on by the fact that Patrick had is mouth on him at some point last night. He nearly groans just thinking about it.

He continues to look around his body in case there were any other hickeys, lifting the hem of his shirt and-

"Hey, would ya look at that," Pete smirks when Patrick's eyes drop a little lower, spotting yet another love bite barely above the waistband of Pete's boxers. He mentally slaps himself for allowing his eyes to linger on the tattoo directly next to it.

"Went a little low there, huh?" Pete glances up at Patrick's blushing face then his eyes notice a mark similar to his on the man's neck.

He reaches a hand up and swipes his thumb over the spot, smiling thoughtfully, then speaks in a low, sweet voice. "Looks like I got you too, Red."

Patrick can't see it but he knows what Pete's referring to. His face is practically burning right now as they connect eyes again. The look on Pete's face is unreadable and Patrick could only imagine what his own face was doing. So many thoughts scrambled through his mind, his body wanted to do one thing while his brain said to do another. He wanted to touch Pete's warm skin, feel him. His heart wanted to do it too, but his stupid brain said, 'no, bad idea'.

"If I keep seein' you blush like that, I'm gonna end up breakin' every moral I have." Pete says a little breathlessly, his features relaxed and serious.

"Didn't think someone like you would have morals."

"Everyone's got at least one." Pete brings his face a little closer to Patrick's so their noses are nearly touching.

"Tell me yours." Patrick rests his forehead against Pete's, unable to look away from his mouth as he speaks.

"Don't fall for the fed." Pete whispers before landing his lips on Patrick's.