Patrick Stump Imagines for the Hopelessly Addicted

If I Woke Up Next to You [AU]

A/N: This is the first Patrick fic I ever wrote! I changed it a lot because it kind of connected to a different story I was writing and wouldn't make sense if I left it the way it was. Because of that, I think it ended up feeling a little disjointed at times. I also feel like I didn't have a solid grip on Patrick as a character when I wrote this. He's supposed to be like 26/27 (so like SP-2012) but I think you could imagine him older if you wanted.

Word Count: 2692

Warnings: not my best piece of writing...you've been warned

Waking up felt like wading through taffy. I was inexplicably warm, and the feeling just made me want to melt into my blankets and never move. I finally dragged my eyelids open only to find an impossibly familiar set of blue eyes gazing softly at me. Which. What. I must've still been dreaming. That was the only explanation for why I was laying next to a gorgeously bedheaded Patrick Stump.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said, his voice still low and crackling with sleep.

I snapped my eyes shut. "I think I'm still dreaming," I mumbled. My heart was beating a little too fast.

He chuckled, my heart skipped a beat at the sound, and suddenly his arm was around me and my face was pressed into his chest. I breathed him in, feeling perfect there, thinking maybe I could stay there forever if I tried hard enough. Ignoring the little voice in the back of my head telling me it was too vivid to be a dream.

"This is the best dream ever," I said sleepily.

He just chuckled again, his hand gently carding through my hair. I hummed, snuggling closer to him before I realized that every touch was sending fireworks through my body. I could feel his chest rising and falling. I could smell him, can you smell in dreams?

"Patrick?"

"Hmm," he asked, sounding still half-asleep.

I grudgingly pulled myself away from his warm chest, gazing at the man next to me, and I felt like my heart was trying to leap out of my body. Or more accurately, like it already had. He was wearing an oversized navy T-shirt, and his hair was all messed up. I wanted so badly to run my fingers through it. And those eyes. Oh, god. They did things to me in photographs, in person was another thing entirely. They looked so sleepy, his lips slightly turned up. His gorgeous lips.  

It was too real. I was too awake. 

"Holy smokes, I'm not dreaming," I said suddenly.

He propped himself up on his elbow, his eyes squinting a little in concern. "Are you feeling okay, babe?"

I sat up. I couldn't look at him lying there. Instead, I stared at the sheets crumpled in my hands, my heart continuing to hammer in my chest.

"I went to bed last night alone. In my own bedroom. And I'd never met you."

He sat up next to me, and I could feel his soft and confused gaze on my profile. I continued to stare at my hands.

"In fact, you're ridiculously famous and don't know I exist, and...and so this has to be a dream...right? I mean...there's no other explanation for it, right? It's not like wishes on stars ever actually get granted, right?" I realized my hands were shaking along with my voice. "But...I'm...I'm totally awake, and...and you're here, and...am I hallucinating? Maybe I'm hallucinating."

Suddenly, I felt him gently wrap his arms around me and I immediately leaned into him, melting into his warmth. I could stay there forever, I thought. It felt like home.

"I promise you're not hallucinating," Patrick said softly, his chest rumbling against my ear. "I'm so sorry, y/n, I can't even pretend to understand what you must be going through. But I promise I'm here for you, okay? We're gonna figure this out together. Okay?"