Pete/Patrick highschool AU
Patrick can't place it. He can't say he remembers the exact day and place and time that he'd decided he were gay. All he remembers is Pete. It had always been Pete, Patrick thinks. It had always been Pete with his too wide smile, odd hobbies and even odder advice. Pete, Patrick thinks.
Patrick can't remember when he decided he were gay. No. But he can remember the day he met Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III. That's a day Patrick can never completely forget. It had started like this...
***
"OKAY GABE! PLEASE GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF MY SACK!" Patrick screams in the middle of the crowded cafeteria. Gabe drops the burlap sack, holding his big hands up in mock defense. Patrick wants to punch him.
"Thanks, dick..." Patrick manages to mutter under his breath. He hates when he's the center of attention and right now about five hundred students are staring at him. Patrick stares down at his half eaten apple and thinks; I must be as red as you right now.
"Okay dude, relax. I just wanted to see if my wife sent more of those banging brownies." Gabe tries to explain only managing to further irritate poor Patrick.
"That's my mom, man. Gross..." Patrick shudders at the thought of Gabe and his mom...
He pulls out a Ziploc baggie and tosses it across the table at a grinning Gabe who opens the bag and takes a long, animated whiff.
"Who's your daddy, Patty-Cakes?"
Patrick kicks one of Gabe's long limbs. "Go fuck yourself, Saporta. Seriously." And Patrick instantly regrets saying it because the look on Gabe's face screams innuendo.
"Why fuck myself when your mom can do it for me, Patty?" Gabe leers at Patrick and Patrick just stands and stomps away concluding that his best friend is the anti-Christ.
***
Patrick arrives at his fifth period English class ten minutes early and barely notices his teacher, Miss Lynch, speaking to a short guy. Patrick can only see the back of the guy but even that is sort of misleading. He looks more like an eighth grader than a junior or senior. Maybe he's an upperclassman.
"Oh! See, this is fantastic! You can sit next to Patrick!"
Patrick's head snaps up and he has to grab his trucker cap before it falls off. Miss Lynch is standing over him, her gerbil smile focused on Patrick. Patrick fights the urge to say, Fuck off.
"Er, I..." Patrick tries to make up an excuse as to why the new kid can’t sit next to him but Miss Lynch is already placing the kid in the adjacent seat. Patrick sort of refuses to look at him just because he's invading Patrick's space. His zone. Patrick hates attention and he despises sharing. Call him a brat but it’s the way he is.
"Alright boys. Get acquainted! I'm just going to run to the front office before class starts."
Patrick doesn't get acquainted when Miss Lynch leaves. He simply takes out his notebook and begins mapping out chord progressions for a song he's been trying to construct. Patrick knows he's being a mega-douche but he doesn't like meeting new people.
Sometime later- it could have been a minute, could have been ten, Patrick wasn't counting- the kid shifts in his seat. He's leaning toward Patrick.
"My name's Pete." He says, holding out a calloused hand for Patrick to shake. Patrick wants to ignore the offer. Ignore the fact that this kid, Pete, is trying to introduce himself. But Patrick has a thing in his head called a conscience. He hates it.
"Sup. Patrick." Patrick settles to say. He will not be shaking this strange kid's hand. He realizes that he still hasn’t actually looked at the Pete guy yet and averts his eyes from his notebook to get a glance.
Pete, Patrick sees, is what Gabe likes to call a Scene kid. Or at least that’s what Patrick can assess from the boy with such a limited view.
Pete has dark brown- almost black- hair that is styled the way Patrick has seen on every Scene kid Gabe has shown him. It’s long and pin straight and it hangs down to cover half his face. He has honey-brown eyes and almost tan skin that you don’t normally see on a Chicagoan in the middle of winter. Patrick also notices what looks like a barbed wire tattoo just barely visible over the black KISS tee he is wearing. Actually Patrick notices several tattoos on the boy’s arms as well.
Patrick won’t even look at the boy’s jeans…the way they stick to his body, tight and-
“Um…” Pete clears his throat and Patrick’s face turns a pretty red color as he turns instantly back to his notebook. He cannot believe he’s just been caught ogling this random kid!!! He is not that dorky! He is not-
“Could you maybe tell me what page you guys are on? I don’t know anything about this book.” Pete is trying to talk to him. To perhaps clear the awkwardness. Patrick wants to get up and run away but instead says; “Page 108.” Just as the bell rings and the class begins to file in.
Patrick puts his progressions back into his sack and pulls out his English composition book. Patrick sort of hates English class. He hates a lot of things but English is at the top of the list. He would much prefer music class. That atmosphere is comforting, therapeutic even. English class is just flat out horse shit.
“Alright everyone! You know what today is! Do your bellwork and get ready to get into your literary groups!” Miss Lynch yells at the top of her lungs and Patrick thinks; Shut the fuck up, bitch.
The bellwork question is simple enough: ‘Who wrote The Canterbury Tales and describe the author’s personality.’
Patrick grimaces though. He can’t stand Geoffrey Chaucer because the guy is kind of a sarcastic asshole. Much like Gabe actually. Patrick smirks and writes, I can’t stand Geoffrey Chaucer. He’s kind of a sarcastic asshole, and shuts his book.
Patrick then takes a moment to scan the classroom for his literary group partners. He doesn’t see Maja. Patrick knows for a fact that if Maja isn’t in class then neither is Travie. And since Travie and Maja are Patrick’s partners…he’s kind of on his own today.
After a good ten minutes people begin to stand and move into their groups and Patrick is kind of left sitting there…alone…looking like a complete loser…while Pete stares at him. Patrick wishes he’d stop.
“Oh dear! Peter you don’t have a group do you?” No fucking shit Sherlock, Patrick’s inner self says to his teacher. He doesn’t realize that he said it out loud until he hears Pete snicker. It’s a kind of goofy snicker that makes Patrick want to smile. Patrick doesn’t though.
“No.” Pete answers after he stops his snickering. Thank God.
“Hmm…” Miss Lynch hums and probes her classroom contemplatively. Patrick tries to duck his head low so that maybe she would bypass him and-
“Patrick! You can partner with Patrick!” She screeches. Yes, screeches. Patrick suddenly has the image of a snake swallowing her whole dancing in his mind and he smiles a very unsettling smile.
“But what about Maja and Travie?” He asks desperately but Miss Lynch has already moved on to harassing Ryland’s group. Shit.
Patrick wants nothing more than to scream bloody murder until Miss Lynch kicks him out or shoots him dead but the tiny part of his brain that he hates oh-so-much says, Grin and bear it, Patrick.
Patrick doesn’t grin as he turns his desk inward toward Pete’s.
***
“Chaucer is the biggest shit-faced retard to ever have walked God’s green earth! What is your problem kid?!” Patrick yells as he crosses out the paragraph Pete had written on their group discussion sheet. Pete rolls his eyes. They’ve been arguing over whether or not Geoffrey Chaucer is douche for at least thirty minutes. Patrick thinks it’s kind of nice.
“He was analytical at best but c’mon, aren’t being a little judgmental?” Pete asks him and Patrick can’t help but stare at the guy across from him.
“No. No, I’m not being judgmental. I quit.” Patrick crosses his arms defiantly, pouts like a five year old and Pete raises an eye brow.
“Seriously? That’s kind of immature.” He points out, eyeing Patrick playfully. He’s so cute….
“Yeah? Well…Your face is kind of immature!” Patrick spits, still pouting, still cross armed. They both burst into hysterics.
“My face? What are you like twelve?!”Pete hoots (Patrick noticed that his laughter is like an owl hooting) while pointing at Patrick mockingly.
“More like seventeen but I have a right to be immature. It’s like…the fourth amendment or something.” Patrick explains dutifully. This only makes Pete laugh louder until Miss Lynch sends them both out into the hall to work.
They don’t though. They just spend the rest of the class laughing and insulting one another.
Patrick thinks; this kid isn’t half bad.
***
“Are you fucking the new kid?” Is the first thing Gabe says when he meets up with Patrick on the way to the parking lot after school. Patrick chokes on his own spit.
“Gah, what?!” He manages through several coughs. Gabe, in an attempt at helping, pounds on Patrick’s back. Patrick swears that he’s broken something.
“Are you boning the new kid? You deaf man?” Gabe reiterates.
“No! I barely know him!”
“Bilvy said he saw you two full on, dick to ass, fucking in the hall.”
Patrick slams his finger in the car door.
“FUCK!” He shouts just as Principal Sheckler walks past. Sheckler walks over to Patrick’s window and Pat winds it down slowly.
“Stump.Detention. Friday. 3:30. Be there or be suspended.”
“Yes Principal Sheckler.” Patrick mutters out before starting his old Chevy. It roars to life getting many stares from many people. Patrick ducks his head down for the third time today.
Quite frankly, he’s a bit tired of it.
***
Gabe has asked Patrick the same question about twenty times and Patrick has given the same answer.
“I barely know him!” Patrick would explain.
“Bilvy never lies!” Gabe would scream manically before waiting ten seconds to ask Patrick the same question again.
It seems to take twice as long to get to Patrick’s house than normal.
***
Patrick’s mom is at the clinic working late so Gabe spends the night against Patrick’s will saying, If I go home my neighbor, you know Old Man Horace, is gonna climb through my window and rape me! Man I swear!
Patrick knows good and well that Gabe is bullshitting but agrees to let him stay anyway. Old Man Horace has been dead since they were nine.
They heat up some pizza rolls, grab a bag of Doritos and a case of Pepsi before heading up to Patrick’s room to watch MTV Hits. Gabe has this weird obsession with criticizing mainstream music. He says a cobra came to him in a dream and told him to make a band that made awesome music and Patrick was only half listening because c’mon Gabe’s a whacko sometimes.
The two boys settle at the foot Patrick’s bed and dig into the not-so-healthy food.
“So…you least got his number?” Gabe asks through a mouthful of gunk. Patrick gags.
“Why would I? I’m not gay.”
Gabe stops chewing. “Wait, what?”
“I’m not gay.” Patrick says again more forcefully than before. Gabe points an accusing finger at him.
“Yes you are! Bill said-“
“Oh shut up! Bill is full of shit if you haven’t noticed! But you wouldn’t care because you’re such a kiss ass!” Patrick yells. Gabe looks offended.
“Me? A kiss ass?! He’s my friend you dork! And he knows stuff! He was right when he said that Gerard was boning Frank!” Gabe defends William.
“Really? Is the fact the Gerard and Frank are openly gay not enough insight? You had to go and ask William? He was right because it is obvious! I’m not gay!” Patrick is truly pissed now and settles to ignore Gabriel for the remainder of the afternoon.
Patrick is not gay.
But he should’ve gotten Pete’s number. For…educational purposes.