Prompt: G: Grateful (How grateful are they to spend time with others? Enjoy being alone or with others?) from kairaiimagines "Christmas Alphabet" prompt list on Tumblr
Word count: 643
Impatiently Patrick's fingers drummed against the steering wheel of his car. Why was he stuck in this goddamn traffic jam now, now of all possible times? He would barely have minded if it had happened on a Monday morning on his way to the studio or a band meeting. He would have turned up the radio, and leant back, patiently waiting for the traffic to inch forwards.
But now?
All he wanted to do was get home as quickly as possible. He had not seen you in almost a month. Of course he was used to not seeing you for longer amounts of time. Whenever he was on tour it was no rare occurrence to not see you in person for two or three months. But it always took a toll on him when it was close to Christmas.
Your work had kept you away from home for almost three weeks, and the day before you came back, Patrick had gotten an emergency call from Pete, asking him to cross half of the US to come meet him. The emergency had not been anything worrisome, yet still even Patrick recognised his presence was needed, and so the long awaited reunion with you had dragged out for another week.
The aching in his chest reminded him of all the years he did not have a partner he could look forward to seeing. Especially around Christmas the longing not to be alone had always gotten worse for him. He had felt lonely, his heart tucking him painfully into an unknown direction, and yet he had not found you until just a few years ago.
Now the tucking in his heart knew its destination.
The feeling of missing you now was similar to that of back then, when he had not even known yet who he was missing. Patrick was not sure which one was more painful. Back then it had been the fear of never finding the person who loved him with the same dedication as he loved them, the uncertainty of perhaps being alone his whole life. It had been the lack of warmth, of a home in an emotional sense. And now it was the pain of being separated from all that.
Patrick tried staying focused on the traffic, not letting his mind get distracted by the thoughts of your soft skin, your warm embrace, you gentle smile. He could not let himself be distracted now. In the end he would cause a car crash, and then it would take him even longer to get home to you. He pushed the thought of running his hands over your hair aside, and focused back on the street. Luckily the cars in front of him finally started moving, and just a few minutes later he turned around the last corner.
Parking the car in the driveway, he quickly jumped out, not even caring to grab his bag before dashing over to the house. He was so excited, that he almost dropped the keys as he tried to unlock the door. Inside the smell of cinnamon and vanilla hit his nose, and even before he had crossed the hallway, looking for you, who seemed to be baking in the kitchen (judging by the smell), you had poked your head around the corner. Immediately you came jumping towards him, wrapping him in a hug, which he quickly returned. Pressing his nose into your hair, he deeply inhaled the familiar scent.
"I'm glad you're home," you whispered, before pulling away just enough to press your lips against his.
Patrick wanted to tell you how much he had missed you, how grateful he was to have a home to come back to, to come back to you. But he decided there was enough time for that later. Right now all he wanted was to keep kissing and holding you.