A/N: First of all before we begin, I'd like to just dedicate this part to WhisperBuddieforlife for being so supportive and kind behind the scenes, commenting on my stories and replying to random pointless messages I post on my conversation board and just being an overall sweetheart in every possible way. Thank you lots. I enjoy talking with you (where you mostly listen to me complain. sorry about that) and you deserve everything in the world for being so amazing. Go check out her stories.
She's just starting out on here, but she's got tons of potential, and I love her stuff to bits. As for everyone else, I appreciate and love you just as much for interacting with these parts. You guys fuel this dumb passion of mine and make me smile when I feel far from doing just that, and I can't thank you enough. Anyway on with the story.
It was a dream, a very long dream. There was no perception of time in the dreaming. All he saw was him. A filter was over his brain, drugs that hit him like a train going full speed, but he focused on the face in his mind that brought him a sense of comfort. It was beautiful, much too beautiful to want to leave.
The fogginess caused the image to blur and fade and sometimes return in a quickness. It was freezing cold, and he would have thought himself to be shivering, but he wasn't. He was in this magnified and intense version of the world, scenery and faces he couldn't comprehend. Then he found them to disappear as something else flickered on. The semblance he had been living in was broken apart into a blur.
He believed himself to be dead for a moment. Nothing was clicking in his brain. The gears began to turn once his vision sharpened, and he saw the man he had been dreaming of. His body was slumped in a chair, eyes closed in a slumbering state. He heard the beeping nearby first and smelled the medicine clogging up his sinuses second. His arm involuntarily lifted as he stared at the tubes and needles shoved into his skin.
His fingers skimmed the hoses fixed into his nostrils. A sharp pain thrust through him the second he attempted to sit up, and he groaned out in discomfort. The sore spots scattered in bruises along his complexion began to throb next. The sounds of complaint alerted the sleeping man in the chair, and he lurched from his position towards the patient.
"No. Don't move. You'll hurt yourself," he warned.
Patrick's eyes washed over the man's worn mien in an attempt to decipher who he was exactly. Then it dawned on him in a heartbeat.
"Pete?" he croaked, his throat burning and dry.
"Hey. Yeah. I'm here. It's me."
He looked as though he'd been crying for some time, and Patrick's chest constricted with the memories of what had occurred coming back to him.
"You've been- uh- you've been in a coma for little less than a month and a half," Pete began.
The account stupefied him. Had that been where he was, in some deep part of his head?
"God, I'm so happy you're awake. I..I should call the nurse."
But Patrick took a hold of the other's hand before he walked away and told him to stay a while until he was fully responsive.
"You saved my life," the prince said, "You took three bullets for me."
"Who- who sh-shot me?
"I think you should know Meagan was linked to the guy involved. She came forward after having heard of the man's arrest and gave up the rest of the people who had planned to kill me and my family. Apparently, as she told me, they weren't supposed to have done it until after the wedding. I...I still find it hard to believe that I almost married an assassin, though."
A chuckle strove to rise from Patrick's throat, but he tensed at the stab in his side from the action. Pete apologized for making him laugh and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.
"We're safe now. My parents are embarrassed about the whole thing. They went into hiding a while, hoping it would all die down, but the public supported me through it. They tried to say how sorry they were. I couldn't hear the excuses.
"Mostly because I was too concerned about your well-being to care about what my parents had to say. It's turned into this giant scandal that kind of snowballed into something bigger than it really is. I'm scared, y'know, because I know what's going to happen. My father can't go on with his reputation blackened."
Patrick perked up at that and looked at the other with curiosity.
"You're going to be king?"
Pete swallowed his nerves, sighing in that moment.
"He talked to me about it, about abdicating. I can tell he's sorry, I mean really sorry. He loves me just as much as my mom loves me, and I want to forgive them; it's just...I don't think I can forget about what they put me through so easily. It's going to be a while before we patch things up. I can see, though, that they had good intentions even if they took the wrong way to set up my future."
"But do you want it- the Crown?"
The prince shrugged.
"I haven't been in the right mindset to give it much thought. I just want you to recover right now. I was so afraid of losing you, dude."
"I'm here. I'll always be here."
It was true. He wanted to live, not for the fact that he had yet so much to do and see but because the mundane stuff was too extraordinary to let go of. Patrick wanted to keep living the life he had been living if not for himself then for the man he was in love with. Pete smiled and walked off to grab a nurse to check his vitals. The patient was given a sponge to squeeze water into his mouth.
It was unclear why he couldn't have a bottle instead, but he didn't complain. The relief was enough to subdue his worries. Out of the corner of his eye was the prince standing by to watch over him like some sort of guardian angel. He could barely keep himself alert afterwards, but Pete assured him he'd be there if he wanted to rest. Yet there were too many questions swirling inside of his brain to allow him the pleasure of dozing off.
"Have...have you been- have you been here everyday?"
His lover nodded, a bit ashamed at the fact.
"I think I live here now actually. I haven't gone back to the palace in weeks."
"What do you even- even do? You must have been so bored."
"Not really. The television and my phone was enough to occupy me. The rest of the time was spent staring at you...like a lot, too much, really. I didn't think I could properly relax until I knew that you would make it. The doctors said it wasn't clear how long you would take to wake up, and I'm just-"
A crack in his voice caused the prince's entire demeanor to falter by his side, and tears spilled from his eyes before being wiped away in a hurry to not worry the patient.
"I'm sorry for getting emotional. I just couldn't imagine life without you. You're everything to me, you know that?"
"Yeah. I know. Don't cry, though. Everything's going to be better from now on."
The assumption wasn't entirely believed that day, but it was what they both needed to hear to calm them. When he was finally discharged after a week of being monitored Pete was ready to take him to the palace.
"Am I welcomed there?" he questioned as he was being wheeled down the hallway in a chair.
"Without a fucking doubt, dude. If anyone makes a fuss about it I'll put them in their place. Do I have to keep saying that you took three bullets just to save my sorry ass? One nearly paralyzed you."
"Yes. I won't ever let you live it down."
Their laughter that followed was cut short by the sight of an audience gathered outside.
"Is that for you?" Patrick asked.
"Nope. I think they're here for you."
It was quite the spectacular surprise to them both. Patrick was being held as a hero, having put his life on the line to protect the country's most valued inhabitant.
Everyone from the staff at the hospital to the prime minister were praising him for his bravery and allegiance to the Crown, but if Patrick was being honest he didn't feel like the saint they saw him as. What if he had failed? Would they still say it was a miracle? What if Pete were lying in a casket, and he was standing over his grave plot?
There were too many what if's to factor in, and when it was expressed to the prince Pete was quick to shut down his negativity, stating that it didn't turn out any other way. It had happened how it happened. Patrick shouldn't be so very humble about almost dying. He wondered about Meagan once they got into the SUV waiting for them.
"Where is she?" he inquired.
"In prison with a reduced sentence since she aided in catching the group responsible."
"So how the hell was she passed off as a princess without anyone noticing?" Patrick asked.
"Turns out her supposed 'dad', the Prince, has many children from many past wives, so no one thought to question her when her identity surfaced with her association with me. The royals of Monaco were investigated, but the only thing they were guilty of was believing the lie that Meagan was nothing more than a regular person wanting to marry a rich guy. She's not the bad person in all of this, believe it or not.
"She meant well in the end, arranging my escape and everything. I guess she had second thoughts about killing me, which I'm thankful for. When she gets out she's going to be put into a protection program to shield her from the people she turned against. I just wish her well, honestly. No hard feelings."
Patrick found it hard to accept that she wasn't the enemy in all this, but perhaps it was months of jealousy still built up in a gunk inside his thoughts that was preventing him from seeing how much he owed to her for not going through with the assassination. Had she done so he wouldn't be sat in the seat next to the prince right then, holding his hand the whole ride through. Wherever Meagan was to end up he hoped she prospered in her endeavors and kept safe from any harm. He felt awful for even doubting her.
There were more people at the palace. News vans were even parked a few blocks over because too many bodies had taken up the street leading up to it. He wasn't used to the attention yet like Pete who acted like an expert in how to blow off the restless flock. Once they'd parked in the garage they resisted the urge to touch each other as to not give the press any kind of field day with the implications the action would lead to.
He wondered if his parents were aware of their being together, but he didn't dare show any affection when they came across the two. Their son took the initiative, however, by reaching so that they may hold hands. The monarchs' eyes darted to the sign of fondness, but neither queried about the subject. Instead, what occurred rather surprised the blond. They smiled and greeted him in a warmness he hadn't experienced from either in the time that he had worked in protecting the prince.
Patrick was about to bow, tilting forward in preparation, but the King held his hand up as an indication that the formalness was unnecessary in this context.
"We're glad to see you're healthy and alive," His Majesty said.
"And we want to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for performing your duties. You've certainly lived up to our expectations of a bodyguard even if you had departed from the title prior to the incident," the Queen said.
"Oh. Well, you're welcome. I appreciate the recognition."
"But that's not all," Pete whispered with a smile.
"Yes. We want to honor you by holding a private ceremony to grant you the title of Knight Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the Empire. You'll be dubbed Sir Patrick Stump in the eyes of the Crown," his mother continued.
He couldn't believe his ears. A knight? That had to be every guy's dream. It most certainly had been a fantasy of his as a child, but he reacted modestly to the privilege being awarded to him, rather than freaking out like he felt prone to act on. It appeared as though he wasn't completely being accepted by Pete's parents, but they were making progress in showing that they were willing to embrace whatever they were.
Patrick wondered how long it had taken them whilst he was in a coma to be convinced that Pete wouldn't budge on his love for him. Eventually, one has to ask themselves if using bigotry to bar their child from happiness is worth the aversion that is to follow. Being that Pete was their only heir, they had to accept he was who he was, and the very least they could do was to adapt to his wishes. The prince led him down the hallway after the conversation, stating that he needed to get proper rest someplace comfortable.
"I had a look in your file while you were in the hospital," Pete told him when they'd come to sit in the prince's suite where Patrick's belongings had been moved into.
He supposed Pete was responsible for the arrangement, which only meant that he hoped for his lover to stay permanently with him. It was exactly how Patrick would've wanted it.
"Yeah? And what did you find?"
"Your birthday was a week after you were put into the hospital, so I thought it appropriate we celebrate it in conjunction with my own."
"It's your birthday?"
"Technically, it was a few days ago. There was supposed to be this big celebration for me, but considering recent events, I asked that nothing too extravagant be done, so all I got was a cake and a repaired car. It doesn't feel right that you missed out on yours, though."
"Well, what are we doing?"
"You'll see. Just get dressed into something nice."
Patrick rolled his eyes and grabbed the first suit he saw from his section of the closet. The lingerie he'd been forced to buy to avoid being caught stealing was sat comfortably in his underwear drawer, and he scolded himself for not having thrown it out sooner. What use could he possibly have for it?
Of course there was the ridiculous thought to try it on, but it couldn't have coincidentally be anywhere near his size. He decided to humor himself, and while he was in the middle of changing he slipped his legs through the underwear, finding them to be a nearly exact fit give or take an inch of the lace that hugged his manly area a bit too tightly for his taste.
Patrick turned in the full-length mirror nearby, observing how it definitely was a matter of preference whether one could be turned on by a male wearing feminine undergarments. It complimented his butt and cock in a totally non-masculine way, and that was a bit problematic for him. A knock on the closet doors stirred his attention away from the fabric with Pete stressing the importance that he hurry.
Patrick quickly threw on the rest of the outfit and met the prince who wore the tux he'd bought for the wedding.
"I didn't want it to go to waste since I didn't have a chance to wear it," he said, "I spent good money on getting it tailored."
They looped arms, and Patrick was escorted down the corridors to the ballroom entrance.
"I don't believe we've ever had a proper dance together," Pete mentioned.
"That's because I can't dance."
"Just follow my lead then."
There wasn't any argument to the matter. He was whisked inside to the start of a song being performed by a live band. The pressure of a warm hand on Patrick's back guiding him through a spin steadied him so that he could move in the same light steps as Pete. Well, he tried to glide his feet across the floor as gracefully, but Patrick still had much to learn in this department. Pete smiled and slowed down, directing the other to watch him carefully.
The prince's body was in tune to the rhythm of Wojciech Kilar's "Grande Valse". He was soft but not subtle, clearly stating his intentions by moving himself and inviting Patrick to follow along. Yet he never forced a movement from him. If he interpreted the step differently than intended the prince would adapt and allow for a sense of security and safety to settle in.
Pete's eyes were on him, though the royal still knew exactly where to take him. Every moment, every angle seemed to be planned in advanced, and Patrick was literally floating. The hand holding him slid down to the small of his back and continued to fall ever so low until it gripped his bottom.
"I may not be an expert at the waltz, but I know you're not supposed to be groping me," the blond told him with a smile on his lips.
"Oh?" he chuckled, softly, "Can you blame me for giving into the temptation?"
That was when Patrick knew for certain. Pete needed not say more. His heart, his whole being was truly his and his alone.
"No. Not at all."
When the song had ended and merged into another the men parted in time for a team of servants to bring out a small, round table meant for only them two.
They worked quickly, draping a tablecloth and setting down plates and utensils. The cooks came through once the servants had done their job, and the couple was seated. They were served only an entree of turkey cutlets, plated with asparagus and beets, and champagne so that the night would not be solely spent overindulging.
"I can't remember the taste of actual food," Patrick said, "It was a nightmare once I was well enough to eat solids. The hospital cafeteria gave me flashbacks to grade school."
"You shouldn't have told me that. Now I'm going to make sure the cooks spoil you."
Patrick laughed and dug into the meal wholeheartedly, finishing straightaway before the other, which only encouraged the prince to order out their dessert of cheesecake earlier than planned. He allowed for the blond to have as many pieces as he wanted until his stomach was happily filled. Then he pulled a small box from his pocket and laid it out on the table in the space between their plates.
His lover stared in confusion at the object, slowly taking it from its place, and opened the lid. There was a pick, his guitar pick, with initials printed into the white surface. He deciphered them out to be both his own and Pete's and felt his heart swell at the present.
"This isn't fair. You didn't give me a chance to get you a gift," Patrick said, his eyes tearing up just a bit.
"You already gave me a gift."
"I swear if you mention how I saved your life again..."
"Guilty as charged. You've been so incredible, Rickster. Just let me treat you to a night you deserve after what you suffered through."
Patrick clicked his tongue, giving into the idea, and smiled crookedly.
"Okay, but when there's a chance I'm going to take you on a date. It might not be as fancy, though."
"Yeah. Sorry if it's all too much. Gerard helped me plan it."
It made up for his assistant's callousness in the past before the assassination attempt. Pete had mostly Frank to thank for helping Gerard turn a new leaf and become more open to Patrick and the prince being together. It wasn't that he was against them both being of the same sex. In fact, that had bothered him the least very obviously being that he was gay himself. Gerard had forgotten that Pete was far more than a prince.
He was a person of great heart and feeling, and to have disregarded that made his assistant wish for forgiveness. Pete realized this of his employee and granted him the request to prove himself worthy again. In the end, the prince was just pleased to have his old friend back.
"I don't think I want to play with this. What if I lose it?" Patrick said, indicating to the pick.
"I'll have it fastened as a necklace if you'd like. Real gold chain even."
"You pamper me too much, Pete."
"Better get used to it," he said with the lifting of his glass to his lips.
Patrick rolled his eyes, and the two of them returned to dancing the last few songs.
But the night was not yet over. They walked out into the very depths of the estate that stretched out towards a brook not too far off from the forest. Patrick kept his promise not to peek from closed eyes until they'd reached the spot underneath a tree overlooking the water. There were blankets laid out for them in the grass with Patrick's guitar case up against the bark of the tree.
"What's this all about?" the blond questioned as he sat.
Pete pulled out the instrument and strummed the strings mindlessly.
"You mind showing me how to play?" he asked.
"Okay, but don't get mad at me if I don't explain it well. First of all, you're going to need to learn how to hold it right."
Patrick's hands touched Pete's to guide them to the correct spots. Then he began to name all the parts.
"This is the fretboard where you press your fingers to play different chords or notes. This is much simpler than playing electric because all you need to worry about is your left and right hand technique."
He pointed out the bridge and the headstock before moving on to the next step.
"In standard tuning, the strings have a name and a number. The thickest string is called the 6th string or low E string. This is the deepest and lowest guitar note you can play."
Patrick continued on naming each and even offered a few mnemonics to help the prince remember.
"What's the difference between a chord and a note?" Pete asked.
"A note is a solitary pitch. It's what you hear when you pluck one string. A chord is a group of notes played together at the same time. To simplify it further, notes are like letters while chords are like words.
"For now, you should focus solely on chords. It's a frustrating and unhelpful path to take to try to understand all the notes on a fretboard."
Pete ran his finger across a random string and questioned which one that was.
"G-note. This is a G-chord."
His own fingers guided Pete's in position.
"Make sure you're using your fingertip on that one. Now put your third on the thinnest string. Bring your knuckles back around a bit so that you're not making it too round. Play it one note at a time. The first shouldn't be a problem."
Pete followed the direction. They eventually came around to the rest of the basic shapes, and Patrick thought Pete to be somewhat of a natural. The blond sat back to watch him, and suddenly, he heard a tune that sounded somewhat familiar. "Happy Birthday" played rather slowly throughout the warm night air, sending the other into a bit of a shock. Pete badly sang the words to its very end in which Patrick could do nothing but grin like an idiot.
"Who taught you?"
"Brendon. I'm sorry for wasting your time with the lesson. I just wanted to surprise you."
"Well, you succeeded. I'm actually proud. How do you like it?"
"Eh. So-so. One of his buddies, Dallon, actually introduced me to the bass, which I think I prefer."
Patrick made a note in his mind to purchase one soon before the prince had the chance to get it himself. They sat back against the tree and looked out at the running water, listening to the sound of the gentle current lapping over the rocks.
"God, I missed you," Pete said, scooting closer to his lover.
"I missed you too."
The prince's lips began to litter the blond's neck in soft, careful kisses while his hands worked to unbutton his dress shirt and slip it down off his shoulders. He'd had withdrawal symptoms in the time that Patrick was recovering, and now that they were finally in this setting together Pete couldn't stop himself from wanting his body.
In the moment that Patrick's pants were lowered, Pete came to see the scandalous underwear in the dim light of the moon and felt his cock twitch at the sight.
"You tease," he simpered, releasing his swollen manhood and rubbing it up against the fabric.
Patrick was too involved in his own head to give a comment on the matter, instead bucking his hips up to cause greater friction between their groins.
The blond imagined himself in some high remote place, strolling on a mountain summit in the entire glory of the other wrapping a piece of the lingerie around himself in his rubbing. He was being drawn back to their now when Pete called into his ear as his phallus plunged into the other. Patrick was voicing his pleasure with his lover moving deeper and making his stomach catch on fire. Once he was lodged completely inside of him he put his arms around Pete's neck and hugged and kissed him with all his might.
It was all so marvelously sensual, their hips as aligned as the stars, their throbbing hearts resting upon their chests for each other to see. For them to touch was when Patrick could finally rest and be at a calm ever so eternally. The morning opened in their holding each other under the blanket. Patrick was the first to wake, stretching out his limbs so that they could crack the tension away.
Pete was second, kissing him as soon as he came to. They both found the pair of underwear discarded nearby, having gathered grass stains and other scandalous stains that should not be mentioned.
"We could buy you more pairs," the prince suggested to which Patrick only laughed in response.
It came to the blond right then that he hadn't informed his friends nor his parents of his release from the hospital, so he quickly dressed and retrieved his cellphone to start making the calls.
His lover stayed sitting under the tree, watching him talk away and relieve the worries of those who cared about him. Patrick's parents described how often they visited and how nice of a gentleman his friend was, y'know, the one who was always there like a bum on a street corner. Patrick was Pete's street corner apparently. They were invited to come to the palace on any occasion to see him, and they were at an awe at the offer of the chance to accompany royals.
Andy and Joe were simply thankful Patrick hadn't become paralyzed, seeing that one bullet barely missed his spine, expressing the horrors of having to be contained to a wheelchair in a hill-riddled country. He promised to come see them once he was fully improved in his health. In the meanwhile, he wanted to make sure Pete and himself could make up for the time lost.
A/N: Did you guys really think I was evil enough to kill Patrick? Smh. I love my bois too much to do that to them. Btw there's like two last parts to this book that I need to finish editing, so yeah. I don't know when I'll get those out because life sucks, but hopefully it will be soon.