Makeup stains my pillowcase

1.2K 24 6

"So, you think I'd make a hot woman?"

Patrick nearly chokes on his after-taping donut.

"I mean, you know," Pete waves his hand, "if I were a chick, would you want to do me?" His eyes are bright and fastened on Patrick.

Patrick takes a moment to process this. "Why?" he says slowly. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

Pete shakes his head.

"Are you sure?" Because if there are going to be tabloids blaring Fall Out Girl? at the checkout counter of the local Stop and Shop, Patrick kind of needs to know about it.

Pete rolls his eyes, as if he's been listening in on Patrick's inner monologue. "Dude, can you just answer the question?"

"Yeah. No. I can't." Patrick shrugs. "I've seen your dick kind of too many times to imagine you as a woman, you know?"

This should be the end of it. Asked and answered. But Pete keeps directing these big, speculative glances in Patrick's direction.

"What?" Patrick demands at last.

"I bet you do have gentle hands," Pete says, with worrying earnestness.

Patrick catches the eye of one of the PA's, who has obviously been eavesdropping. The guy is totally smirking.


"I'll be back," Pete says, as soon as they get back to his house.

The plan had been to hang out after the taping, but Patrick isn't really in the mood to spend the afternoon contemplating Pete with a vagina, and he can feel the subject still lurking. The hairs are practically standing up on the back of his neck. He hasn't had warning bells go off like this since Bedussey.

"I'm gonna take off," he says.

"No, you're not." Pete points to the living room. "Super Smash Bros. Brawl. I'll be right back."

"Seriously. I've got work--"

But Pete is already thumping up the steps, pretending not to hear him. Patrick sighs. So. Yeah. Then. Super Smash Bros. Brawl.

He throws himself onto the sofa and starts up a game. There's a loud thud upstairs, followed by a crash and a fairly serious sounding clatter. Patrick thinks about calling out, "What the hell are you doing up there?" But then doesn't. With Pete, sometimes it's just better not to know.

Soon enough, the addictive power of the Wii takes over, and Patrick barely remembers that Pete exists. He's too busy trying to fend off invading creatures from Subspace and practically giving himself a hyperextended wrist in the process.

He doesn't realize he's not alone until a voice calls out, "Hey, lover, come here often?" It's Pete. More significantly, it's Pete's sex voice, low and rough around the edges.

Patrick turns to look, and his eyebrows lift all the way up to his hairline. "Um. You--" He doesn't make it any farther into the sentence than that.

Pete is leaning against the doorframe, hip cocked, a pose that Patrick guesses is meant to be seductive, in a 1970s-movie-about-hookers kind of way. Pete's outfit is in much the same spirit. He's wearing a leather skirt so short it's a little alarming, all the more so since Patrick is pretty sure Pete doesn't have any underwear on under there. There's a hot pink halter top, because Pete is nothing if not a halter top kind of guy-pretending-to-be-a-girl, and black stilettos with straps that crisscross over his ankles. Worst of all is the platinum blonde pageboy wig that makes him look like a too-tan, tattooed Carol Channing.

Book of my favorite PetericksRead this story for FREE!