Thanks to z3nni_y for the AMAZING new cover!!!
"Baby," Pete shakes the smaller awake.
Patrick groans, wrapping the blankets around him tighter.
"You have to get up, people are coming in with your stuff."
"What time is it?" Patrick mutters, sitting up. The blankets fall off his chest revealing the purple marks Pete's littered on the pale torso.
Pete bites back a prideful smirk and clears his throat. "Nine."
"How are you awake so early? Aren't you exhausted?" Patrick flops back down.
"More then exhausted." Pete nods. "But we learn to move past it."
"Can't we just go back to bed?" Patrick pouts.
"Nope." He slides Patrick some more clothes. "You get to wear mine again, sorry. They'll have everything here by ten in case you want to change."
"I like your things. They smell nice."
Pete beams. "Get them on and then we'll get something to eat."
Patrick nods, standing slowly. He ignores the pain in his ass as he does, and he shoves his legs in the boxers.
"Any faster?" Pete flops on the bed.
"You try going fast after being fucked."
"I would but I don't bottom." Pete winks.
"I don't wanna move." Patrick whines.
Pete rolls his eyes. "Well, if you don't mind sleeping when people are--"
Patrick doesn't care to hear the rest. He climbs back under the sheets, curling in their warmth.
Pete climbs on the bed, dropping down to meet Patrick's face. He pokes a chubby cheek. "C'mon, Patrick."
"Petey, I'm so tired."
Pete has to admit, this is very comfortable. In fact, he may fall asleep if he stays like this any longer.
"Your eyes are drooping." Patrick giggles.
"They aren't." He grumbles.
"They are." Patrick swings a leg over Pete's hip. "Just fall asleep."
"I can't, I gotta stay awake." Pete slurs.
A soft hand runs down his face, reminding him he hasn't shaved in a bit. "Just sleep, Pete. You deserve it. I'm an exhausting handful."
"You got that right." Pete mutters. His eyes snap open, Patrick's working wonders on him. "No, you're lulling me. Stop that." Pete tries to pull away.
Patrick's leg tightens, and his hands grip Pete's shirt. "Don't go,"
"You're going to make me fall asleep." Pete chuckles.
"Good," Patrick smirks. His hand buries itself in the blonde mess, black roots growing out. Patrick gently hums a tune while massaging Pete's scalp.
~~~
"Pete," Brendon and Ryan knock gently on the door.
All of Patrick's things were collected into four boxes. Clothes. Shoes and hats. Documents and personal information. Special things.
Patrick labelled the last box, it was found in the bare closet. Brendon had to take a peek, and it was full of notes from his mother and pictures from his childhood. It was clearly important to him, and Brendon was sure to grab it.
"Open up!" Ryan knocks.
"Pete!" Brendon yells.
Pete jumps. His eyes pop open and he's met with the sleeping face of Patrick. He's so damn gorgeous. So peaceful.
Pete gently slides away to open the door. He tries his hardest to blink the sleep from his eyes.
"Finally!" Brendon groans when Pete opens the door.
His eyes obviously fall onto the unmade bed with Patrick inside the sheets.
"Is he naked?" Ryan frowns.
"He's got boxers." Pete grumbles, walking over to pull the sheets over Patrick's marked chest.
"A failed attempt to cover up the fun you guys had last night." Brendon mock-pouts.
"You guys did too." Patrick mutters. His eyes opens briefly. "Fa-Faster, Ryan!" Patrick mocks the desperate whine in Brendon's voice.
Ryan's face turns a deep pink, and he gently sets the boxes on the ground.
Brendon does the same. "You don't speak of that, I don't speak of this."
"Deal," Pete smirks.
"Thank you," Patrick rubs his eyes, stretching his arms out.
"Will wants you for training." Brendon calls before following Ryan out.
"When?" Pete jumps off the bed.
"Now!"
Pete deflates. He turns to Patrick. "I planned to help you unpack. Do you want to train with--"
"Never again." Patrick groans. "I'll be fine unpacking it all. There isn't much."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Are you--"
"Pete, if I have to run another lap, I'm puking on you."
Pete frowns. "Can I have a goodbye hug and kiss?"
Patrick grins, hoping out of the bed. He manages his way over-his ass still hurts-and wraps his arms around Pete's waist. His hands move to cup Pete's jawline, and bring him down slightly to connect their lips.
"If you leave the room, leave me a note. The door will be locked, ask Laura to let you in."
"Why can't I have a key?"
"There's only one, and I need it. She's got a universal key." Pete presses his lips to Patrick's once more. "Coach is going to kill me if I'm late." Pete darts off.
Patrick blinks. He sorts through his boxes, still too lazy to dress. At some point, he pulls on Pete's hoodie and a pair of his jeans.
Pete's closet is not too full, and mainly has workout apparel. There's a case of guns against the back wall, and Patrick refuses to go near it. As well, Pete's got one of those suits. The black one with white stripe. He restricts his small wardrobe to a sliver of the massive closet. His shoes go on the floor under his clothes, and the hats go on the rack above them.
The other two boxes slide under the bed perfectly, masked by the nightstands. Patrick decides to make the bed, hoping Pete would come back soon. He doesn't. It's only been thirty minutes. Bored out of his mind, Patrick scribbles out a note and walks out of the room
Very hungry.
I went to get an ID and some food. -Patrick
He wanders around for a bit before knocking on Laura's door. The wandering killed ten minutes. This is boring.
"Come in!" She calls.
When Patrick walks in, she's got a mess of paperwork on her desk. She doesn't look up, but instead holds her finger up. Patrick bites his fingernail as he waits. Finally she looks up, frowning.
"I wish you would've said it was you." She nods to the seat. "Take a seat. What's up?"
"Can I have an ID?"
"I thought you didn't want one."
"I do now." Patrick mumbles.
"Alright. I'll just need to clean up a little." She starts moving and stacking papers. "All this deep searching has made my desk a mess." She finally sits back down and begins typing in her computer.
"I just need a picture of you. I know everything else." Laura brushes her hair behind her ear. "Unless you'd like me to use your graduation photo. It appears like you don't have a drivers license."
"My mom didn't want me driving after my dad's car wreck." Patrick scratches his neck. "If I went out, she drove me."
"Car wreck?" She frowns.
"My dad died in a car accident before I was born."
"Is that what she told you?" Laura asks, standing to grab the ID.
"That's not what happened?" His heart pounds, palms sweating.
"Of course not." Laura says, handing an ID to Patrick. "There's a long story that I simply don't have time for." She grabs more paperwork to look over.
"You can't just tell me my dad didn't die in a car wreck. How did he die? It's not fair to tell me this!"
"Excuse me?" Her tone turns demanding.
Patrick stiffens.
"You will not talk to me like that. Ever." She frowns.
He nods, looking down at his lap. His fingers graze over the ID, and he stands. "Thank you, ma'am."
"You can call me Laura." She says, a little attitude tainting her tone.
"Thank you, Laura."
"Go on, get some breakfast." She waves him away, and he gladly takes his exit.
The piece of plastic in his hand makes him giddy. He's never had his own ID. He squeezes into the elevator with other agents, and he exits onto the bottom floor.
His eyes find the window looking into the pool. Pete's pulling himself out of the pool. His core, arm, and back muscles are hard at work, and it's extremely hot. The tattoos are wet and his muscles are shiny. His hair drips and his eyes are down set. His chest heaves and his swim trunks stick to his skin.
Ohmygod. I can see the outline of his--
"Hey, you good?" Ryan asks, suddenly in front of him.
Patrick rips his eyes away, nodding. "I'm just gonna go get some food." He steps around Ryan.
Ryan watches for a moment before walking into the pool room. Patrick's sure he'll tell Pete Patrick was staring, and the thought makes him embarrassed.
The cafeteria seems to be mainly empty beside a few people eating an early lunch.
"What can I get you, darling?" A woman leans over the counter.
"Grilled cheese, please."
"Got it!" A chef in the back yells.
"ID?"
He hands it to her and she quickly scans it. He steps aside and waits for his meal.
"You're Patrick, right?" A man walks up to him.
Patrick nods. "And you are?"
"Andy Hurley."
Andy's scary looking. Big muscles and loads of tattoos. He's a redhead, and his beard is littered with discolored pieces. It's odd. His voice is so light and airy.
"Nice to meet you." Patrick collects his meal and so does Andy.
The two sit down and dig in. Patrick's unsure what to say, so he makes his bites slower to avoid speaking.
"So you're Pete's boyfriend now?"
"I-I don't think we've labelled it."
"I see." Andy takes a bite of an apple. "So you're just his special someone?"
"I guess so."
Andy nods slowly, taking another crunchy bite from his apple.
It's quiet. So Patrick continues the conversation with the topic they left off on. "Do you have a special someone?"
Andy swallows hard. "I did."
"Oh?"
"Joe. He was...amazing to say the least. We did everything together. Every mission, every workout, just everything. He was my everything."
"What happened?" Patrick whispers.
"We went to raid the bloodhounds for an agent they held hostage. We went into a room to clear it a-and someone was hiding. I shot them, but Joe was already hurt." Andy takes a deep breath. "He told me to keep going, but I wasn't going to leave him. I sat with him in my arms until his eyes closed and his lips stopped moving against mine."
"I'm so sorry, Andy."
Andy shakes his head. "It's life." He picks at his food.
"I like your tattoos." Patrick says after a moment.
Andy smiles. "Thanks. I think body ink is neat." He looks at his arms and then at Patrick. "You got any tattoos?"
"No, I don't plan on it either."
"What a shame." Andy frowns.
"Hey friends!" Brendon rushes over, plopping next to Andy. "Why wasn't I invited to the lunch party?"
"Because it isn't a party, dingbat." Andy rolls his eyes.
"Pete and Ryan are changing but they'll be down soon to join the party."
Andy grabs Brendon's orange and slides the rest of his sandwich over.
"Bet!" Brendon grabs Andy's unfinished food.
"Why don't you get some appetizing food?" Patrick frowns.
"This is appetizing." Andy pouts.
"He's vegan so his food is gross." Brendon takes a bite of the healthy sandwich.
"If it's so gross why are you eating it?"
"'Cause it's food?"
"Sorry I'm late to the party." Ryan snags the last seat at the table. His tray holds a grilled cheese as well.
"You ass, you took at the seats." Pete frowns. He slides his tray next to Patrick's. He pulls Patrick out of the seat and steals the chair. "Ry, now poor Patrick has no where to sit!"
"Pete--"
"Poor, 'Tricky." Pete pouts. "You'll just have to sit on my lap."
"He can just pull a chair up to the table." Ryan points out.
"There's no room, my lap is the only option. Come here, sweetheart." Pete grabs ahold of Patrick's hips and drops him on his lap. He throws his left arm around Patrick's hips, gently rubbing circles into the bone.
"Yeah, I think Pete's labeled it." Andy winks to Patrick
"Labeled what?" Pete pauses with a fork of pasta close to his mouth.
"Your relationship status."
"What is your relationship status?" Ryan cocks his head.
"He's more than a fuck buddy, but we aren't Facebook official." Pete answers.
Patrick leans back against Pete, signing contently.
"You might as well just say you're dating." Ryan shrugs.
"Patrick Stump being my boyfriend?" Pete gasps. "Sasstrick would never."
"You ass!" Patrick laughs, turning to smack Pete's arm.
"The only ass I'm associated with is yours!" Pete grabs Patrick's arm, laughing back at him.
"Ohmygod just fuck already!" Andy groans.
Pete and Patrick freeze, holding back their laughter.
"You sluts!" Andy slams the table.
Patrick leans back onto Pete's chest again. Pete smiles against Patrick's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. He's just too gorgeous."
Andy hums sarcastically. He stands. "Gotta go work out, see you guys."
"Bye, Andy." Ryan waves.
"See ya'" Patrick smiles. "I feel bad for him." He whispers.
"Why?"
"Because of Joe."
Pete shakes his head. "That story is weird."
"What do you mean?"
"It's pretty odd." Ryan mumbles.
"Why? Do you think he was lying?"
"I doubt it. Andy's honest. But after Joe stopped moving, Andy removed himself from the mission. When we went back in for Joe's body, we found nothing. No blood. No struggle. The bloodhounds usually send limbs or the dead body or something...but not with Joe." Brendon explains.
"I'm confused."
"Joe could be alive." Ryan whispers.
Patrick's eyes light up. "Really!? Does Andy--"
"But there's not a good chance. He's probably been drained of his information."
"Oh," Patrick whispers.
"Let's move on, okay?" Pete mumbles.
Everyone nods, but Patrick's mind lingers on Andy's deceased lover. Where could he be?
Was he really dead?