When you Wish Upon A Star 2/?
Title: When you Wish Upon A Star
Pairing: Furture (lol furture) Peterick
Summary: Pete Wentz is a robot, it's the furture, Patrick Stump is a lonely music geek.
Rated: PG for now
A/N: Woot Woot, writing stories fun fun...
Patrick is awaken around three hours later, the sun still not up. He grumbled as he a cracked a sleep infested eye open to see Pete, sitting in his computer chair and watching the projector play some stupid late night game show. It was on mute, or close to it anyway, but the lights were flickering rampantly and Pete has apparently just cheered too loudly for someone.
Pete's head snapped quickly to where Patrick was sitting up, and just as fast the tv was off, as if Patrick would assume he hadn't seen him watching 30 Seconds To Mars (The game show, not the classic rock group). "Pete?"
Patrick doesn't hear a response, just his sleepy voice echoing inside his head. Patrick just laid back down and pretended he was convinced nothing happened.
_______
Patrick's internal clock tells him he could still sleep a few more hours, but the bright sun and loud music make him decide otherwise. Pete was sitting in his computer chair again, blasting 5o4 Plan, he also had a cord attached to the laptop, that seemed to also be connected to his wrist.
"Good Morning. I'm charging."
Patrick blinked slowly, trying to let this make sense, "Why do you keep touching my things?"
"You haven't told me not to." Pete replied, tapping his foot along in perfect time with the song. "I got bored and made breakfast, by the way. It's on the lower level and it should still be warm, Mom left for work."
"Mom." Patrick deadpans.
"Patricia told me to call her that, do you mind?" Patrick just blinked again slowly before heading to the kitchen.
_______
"You know, for a robot...you don't seem very...roboty." Patrick said suddenly, making Pete look up from where he was reading one of Patrick's vintage paper made books.
"What would make me more...roboty to you, Patrick?"
"Are you like...really strong or..I mean okay the math you did yesterday was pretty cool and all, but... I don't know you just seem really...human."
"It's because I'm not one of the "clones"." Pete replied, a mechanical shudder went through his spine.
"You mean..cause you're not a Jane or John robot? I get that...I'm kind of really happy you aren't..."
"They're terrible, they don't even realise they're all wearing the same outfit." Pete laughed at his joke, a loud obnoxious noise. Patrick wondered if that could be fixed, and then he laughed slightly too. He hadn't really taken in Pete's clothing, it was simple enough. A black shirt and a pair of blue jeans, and Converse that looked like they might not be the knock offs the fashion industry were trying to bring back into style.
"Yeah...You know, you seem to have a lot of personality...how-?"
"The person that ordered me, they were very strange from what's left in my memory about them. I was made as an exact replica, the person said they'd time travelled just to make me right."
Patrick's eye widened at this, "Time travelled? That costs...and two years ago it was even more dangerous than now."
"I told you the person was weird."
"Why'd they get rid of you?"
Pete had a pained expression come across his features, a brief humming noise filled the room, "Those files are long gone dude, sorry."
He paused shortly before blurting out, "Wanna see my tattoos?"
"I-what?" Patrick asked really hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt. Pete just grinned and stood up, pulling his shirt off uninhibited. He twisted around trying to both see and point to a strange symbol at his lower back. Patrick had to laugh slightly, "What is that supposed to be?"
"I don't know, isn't it great?" Pete said grinning, he walked over and sat next to Patrick on his bed. "I like this one too." Pete said pointing to one of his wrists, "I wish I had more."
Pete sat quietly, and started to kick his legs against the bed. Patrick couldn't really help himself from reaching out and tracing over the small inked in design on Pete's wrist. It wasn't raised like a tattoo should be, it was printed on he could tell. Silk-screened or lasor etched he couldn't be sure. Patrick was slightly surprised however at how warm the imitation skin felt. He didn't notice Pete shift into him, barely noted Pete's head leaning on his shoulder. He did however jump slightly at how close Pete's low and slightly scratchy voice was in his ears.
"That feels nice." For some reason it sent chills down Patrick's spine, so he retracted his hand. Pete stood up and had his shirt on faster than Patrick would have blinked. He wanted to apologise or even ask if he did anything wrong, but then Patrick's mom was at his door. Telling him that she overhead someone talking about an old theater that had been restored and fixed up, and how they were letting retro bands play there on the weekend, maybe he should go and take Pete.
"That sounds great mom." Patricia looked over at Pete, who's head was buried in Patrick's closet pretending to re-reorganise something. His mother crossed the room and leaned in to speak to Patrick.
"You like Pete enough right? You get along?"
"Yeah, mom...he's cool..thanks." She smiled and wrapped an arm around him in a half hug, kissing his ear with a loud smack.
"You know, you can take him with you to school and show him off if you want."
"Uhm....maybe." It didn't really sound like too much of a good idea, he didn't need to give the kids a reason to start making fun of him again.
Patrick's mom smiled and awkwardly patted Pete on the head on her way out.
"Do I get to go to school with you?" Pete asked, sitting back down on the bed, shirt-on this time of course.
"You really..do you really want to?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Not really..but like, if you want-"
"It's not about what I want, I'm programmed to make you happy." It's said without an air of upset, a slight inflection of pride even.
"Well, " Patrick said slowly, "I want you to...if you want you to." Patrick watched as Pete blinked several times in quick succession.
"Yes?" Pete said, eyebrows creased.
"Okay then..sure you can come." Patrick said in a rush (okay, so maybe deep down Patrick really wanted an excuse to show Pete off to everyone). Pete laid his arm across Patrick's legs.
"Do you want to touch me again? I don't mind it." Patrick flushed deeply, staring at the tan and warm weighted arm in his lap. He didn't really answer, just lifted a hand to trail it lightly across the skin. Tickling Pete's palm, making him burst out with his annoying laughter, it just made Patrick smile.
They sat pressed together for a good chunk of an hour, eventually striking a conversation about body modifications and musing whether or not androids could get them, 'like upgrades!' Pete had pointed out. Patrick didn't ever stop touching Pete's arm while they talked, he wasn't sure why completely. The part he'd figured out he tried not to think about. He just focused on how Pete would sigh against his shoulder or giggle depending on how or where on Pete's arm he touched, he even tried pinching him. Pete gasped loudly.
"Sorry..sorry, I didn't know if you felt-..I should have asked."
"It's okay, physical pain, no mater how intense, is only temporary...if I wanted I could wipe the sensation from my mind and not even remember it."
"Whoa...are you going to?" Patrick asked, absentmindedly tracing patterns on Pete's forearm.
"I don't think so....I should probably go see if Mom wants help with dinner, if that's okay?" Patrick nodded, though in their position Pete probably didn't see, and reluctantly let Pete stand and leave the room. Patrick thought his mom probably told whomever she bought Pete from to make him want to help her out around the house. He rolled his eyes and went to play Betsy.
Part 3