Pirates and Persians and Greeks, oh my!

Masterpost

March 2003

"Patrickpatrickpatrick!"

Patrick looked up from his guitar, shielding his eyes from the unnaturally bright March sunshine, and watched in fond amusement as his best friend Pete ran towards him, vaulting over park benches, one or two hedges and, in one almost-disastrous move, a full-grown Irish Wolfhound.

When Pete reached Patrick he launched himself, and it was only Patrick's habit of bracing himself firmly as soon as Pete was within tackling range that saved him from being bowled over off of the park bench. Falling backwards onto the grass, Pete grinned infectiously at him, and Patrick couldn't help but grin back. In the two years they had known each other, Patrick had never had to wonder why he and Pete were friends. Other people wondered at it, assuming that because they were so different that their personalities would clash, but Patrick believed that it was because of their differences that they were best friends; Patrick's quiet nature balanced and, to a certain extent, helped curb Pete's exuberance, which in turn stopped Patrick from disappearing into his shell too often.

Of course, that wasn't to say that Pete never irritated him, like right now when Pete was trying to play the drums in mid-air using Patrick's right knee as a high hat.

"Would you stop?" Patrick firmly removed Pete's hand from his knee as he spoke, and Pete rolled his eyes.

"Grouch. Hey, you're coming to see Knockout tonight, right?"

"Dude, of course. My mom said I could take the car as long as I cleaned the garage this morning."

"And did you?"

Patrick gave him a scathing look. "Yes, I did it."

"You know I could have picked you up, right?"

"You just wanted to get some of my mom's cookies," Patrick snorted.

Pete's expression turned dreamy. "Your mom's cookies are awesome," he said wistfully. "She come around yet about you being a genu-wine recording artist?"

All hint of joking had disappeared from Pete's eyes, and Patrick sighed. "She thinks that since the record wasn't an instant success that we're wasting our time. She thinks I should go to music college like Kevin, so I'll 'have something to fall back on'." He made air quotes around that last with his fingers, and Pete snorted.

"She knows it's only been out a week, right?" Patrick shrugged again, and Pete's eyes narrowed for a moment before grinning. "Hey, did I tell you that I got a call from Fueled By Ramen?"

Patrick's eyes widened. "Less Than Jake's label?"

"Yup." Pete took a small rubber ball out of his pocket and started to throw it in the air and catch it again. Patrick resisted the urge to snatch it away and throw it at Pete's head. "They heard the album and thought it 'showed potential', and they want to come down here and hear us play."

Patrick stared in disbelief at his best friend. "What...when?" he managed.

"Two weeks on Saturday. That cool with you? I mean, I have to check with the other guys, but I already told the record company guys that it was cool, so it's too late now anyway." Pete's eyes were sparkling with mischief and glee, and Patrick laughed.

"Like I'm gonna say no. Fueled By Ramen, dude, oh my god. You gonna tell the guys at practice tomorrow?"

Pete nodded. "Yeah. We might have to find a new drummer, though; I think Mike's looking to jump ship."

"Seriously?" Patrick couldn't help but be disappointed, even if he wasn't too surprised. "But we're just getting somewhere!"

"I know, man. It blows." He huffed out a breath, blowing his bangs from his forehead. "I think T.J. might bail too."

"Oh my god. Pete, we can't have a band without a second guitarist or a drummer! What the hell are we going to do?"

Pete leaned forward and leaned an elbow on Patrick's bench. "I think you should play guitar."

"But I sing!"

"Why can't you do both? I know you can sing when you play. I've seen you."

Patrick nodded, conceding the point. There was no reason why he couldn't. "But what about a drummer?"

"I thought of that. You remember the guy we asked to be in the band before, but he couldn't 'cause he was in Racetraitor? Played a couple of shows with us?"

"Andy?" It made sense; Andy was a cool guy, and they already knew they could play well with him. "Is he free?"

"Last I heard. I'll talk to Mike and T.J. tomorrow, and if I'm right we'll call Andy, yeah?"

Patrick nodded. He understood why they might want to leave--they both had other commitments, and had only ever been interested in playing the Chicago scene. But it still hurt a little to know that whatever step they would be taking next as a band would be without his friends.

Pete nudged his knee. "Speaking of new band members, Adam's leaving 5o4plan at the beginning of May."

"What? Seriously? Why?"

Pete shrugged. "Wants to go to school, but didn't want to leave the guys cold, so he's given them advance warning. They've started searching for a replacement already. I think Adam's helping."

"Man, that bites. I hadn't realized they'd been loo-" Patrick trailed off, staring incredulously at Pete, who was now trying to balance the rubber ball on his nose, and failing miserably. Shaking his head, Patrick continued, "Looking for a new bass player." He poked Pete in the shoulder, causing the ball to, once again, fall off his nose, and laughed at the resulting glare. "Have you considered trying out?"

Pete gasped, catching the ball and clutching it to his chest. "Patrick! How could you even suggest such a thing? I could never be in a band without you!" He pounced on top of Patrick, who only just managed to move his guitar out of the way in time. "We could never be in different bands! You and me are "me and Pete", best friends, bestfriends, and if you're ever in a band without me I will die, Patrickstump."

Patrick stifled a smile. "Pete. I was kidding. Now could you stop straddling me? We're getting some weird looks."

"Oh! Sorry." Pete scrambled off his lap back onto the grass. "So, been working on anything?"

Patrick smiled and pulled his guitar back around onto his knee.

***

May 2003

"Okay, you guys, can we take five? I feel like my vocal chords are gonna rip themselves out of my throat if we don't take a break."

Ignoring Andy's muttering about being 'totally unprepared for the tour, oh my god', Patrick put his guitar back in the stand and bent to pick up his bottle of water.

"So, hey." Pete prodded him on the shoulder. "5o4plan found a new bass player while we were organizing the release of the record. He's playing with them tonight at the Fireside."

"Yeah?" Patrick raised an eyebrow and took another swig for the bottle, gargling for a few seconds in an attempt to sooth his throat. "Who?"

"Some kid--Jason? Johnson? I don't know, something with a 'J'. He's supposed to be pretty good. He's about your age, I think, or a bit younger. You'll see him tonight, though."

"Awesome." Screwing the lid back on the bottle, Patrick sighed. "It won't be the same without Adam, though."

"Got that right. This is why school is evil. Takes our best musicians away." Pete was giving him that look again, and Patrick frowned.

"I told you. I'm not going. If this doesn't all work out, if Island don't want us after this record, then I might apply next year. But I think we're gonna get somewhere with this, and I'm not gonna screw that up by leaving."

"Good to know." Joe was looking at them, amusement in his eyes. "You ready?"

Patrick nodded and pulled his guitar strap back over his head, grabbing the microphone and counting them in.

***

Patrick pulled his favorite cap on, and checked himself in the mirror. He messed with the hair hanging out from under his cap with the tips of his fingers, and screwed up his nose. Part of him wished that he could pull off Pete's seemingly effortless style. Admittedly, it wasn't to everyone's taste, and it wasn't something that everyone could pull off. And, sometimes, it just looked like Pete had dressed in the dark. With his teeth. But somehow, he still always looked great. Whereas he, Patrick... He sighed. He just looked like a chubby kid in a t-shirt. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to write home about. Maybe if he changed his shirt....

His phone rang, and he flipped it open. "Yeah?"

"Patrick. Stop angsting about your clothes and get over here. You look awesome."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "Pete, you can't even see what I'm wearing."

"You're wearing your favorite t-shirt, right? And...probably the red trucker cap?"

Sometimes it was scary how well Pete knew him.

"So yeah, you look great. Now quit with your bullshit, Pat. You know you're totally hot and I'd've done something about it if I swung that way."

"Pfft, in your dreams. You're so not my type," Patrick smiled. “And don’t call me Pat,” he added, even though he knew Pete wouldn’t listen.

"Shut up, I am so your type. I'm everyone’s type. Even yours, Mr. I-might-like-girls-and-guys-but-that-doesn't-mean-I'm-easy."

Patrick couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up at Pete's declaration, parroting back what he himself had said when some random skeezy scene boy had hit on him. Eventually, he calmed down, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"Better?" Pete's voice had taken on that soft, caring tone--the one he used when he was trying to make Patrick feel better about something.

"Yeah. Thanks, man."

"Now stop being a girl and hurry the fuck up. JWalk's been wanting to meet you." Before Patrick could ask what a 'JWalk' was, Pete had hung up. Smiling to himself, Patrick grabbed his wallet and keys and, calling goodbye to his mom, ran out the door.

***

As soon as he had parked the car outside the bowling alley, Patrick pulled out his cell phone and called Pete.

"Hey, man, where are you?" he asked, jumping out of the car and slamming the door.

"Patrick! We're backstage. Just come round the side door."

"Mmk. See you in a few." Hanging up, Patrick headed towards the side door. He knew where he was going; he'd played here with the band a few times. Nodding to the guy at the door--none of the bands who played here were internationally famous, or anything, but there were still some crazy fans on the scene, so they always had a bouncer on this door--he wandered through to the backstage area.

He had no sooner opened the door than he had an armful of Pete, who buried his face in Patrick's neck and began muttering something into his skin.

"Dude," Patrick said patiently. "You know I can't understand a word when you do that."

Pete pulled back, gesturing with the bottle of beer in his hand. "Sorry! I said, 'it's about time you got here, I saved you a cold one even though you don't deserve it, I like your shirt, come in and meet Jon'."

"Who's Jon?"

"Uh, hey. That would be me."

Patrick turned towards the voice and stared. The kid was standing over next to Tom, wearing a blue t-shirt, jeans, and - were those flip flops? He walked towards Patrick and held out his hand.

"I'm the new bass player," Jon said, ducking his head a little. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, ever since I heard these guys knew you." Oh, my god, was he blushing? Patrick blinked, taking Jon's hand and shaking it. "I've been to a few of you guys' shows, and I think you've got an awesome voice."

"Um, thanks?" Patrick realized that he was still shaking Jon's hand and dropped it, suppressing a blush of his own. "So, how did you end up with these guys?"

Jon shrugged. "Tom told me that they were looking for someone to play bass and sing back-up vocals, and I volunteered. I'd been in another band, but you know how it is."

Patrick nodded; he did. "What band were you in?"

"Farewell Night? You've probably never heard of us, but...."

"Wait, wasn't Adrian in that band? Adrian LaTrace?"

Jon blinked at him. "Uh, yeah?"

"Dude, I saw you guys play last year. You were pretty good."

"Thanks," Jon smiled, and Patrick nearly died, because oh my god, he was not developing a crush on a kid who he had just met, and who was probably jailbait anyway. Even if he did have a 100 watt smile and the most adorable lisp and ohmygod, when had he turned into a total girl?

He tried a different tack. "So you've been playing for a while, then?"

"Yeah, about six years? My brother Mike started teaching me on his guitar when I was about eleven."

So he was 17, then. Not as jailbait-y as Patrick had thought, but still pretty bad. He opened his mouth to ask why he had decided to play bass when the alley's manager came in to tell the band to get ready. Patrick laid a hand on Jon's arm as he passed.

"Good luck out there," he smiled, and Jon grinned back.

"Thanks." He glanced over at the guys. "We're going to the beach later. You could come with...y'know, if you want to." Jon's face was tinged pink and he was biting his lip as though he was nervous. Patrick felt himself fall a little bit in love.

"Um, yeah. That sounds awesome."

Jon beamed at him. "Great! Then...I guess I'll see you after the show?" Patrick nodded, watching as Jon ran after the other guys. As soon as he was out the room, Pete came up behind him hung himself around Patrick's shoulders.

"He seems nice," Pete said in his ear, and Patrick could tell that he'd figured it out. Whatever. He was pretty sure he'd care later, but right now, he had a show to watch.

***

Being back in the Fireside was pretty bittersweet, Patrick mused as he let Pete drag him through the fairly sizable crowd to the front of the stage. He'd played his first show here with Fall Out Boy, before they even had a name, and so many times since; the atmosphere was always amazing, and Patrick couldn't help wonder when they would get the chance to play there again. Probably not any time soon; the Less Than Jake tour wasn't for a few months, but Patrick wasn't really sure what the record company had planned for them before then.

Since they were out in the front of the venue, Patrick couldn’t have his own beer, so he kept sneaking sips out of Pete’s. Pete kept muttering something under his breath about contributing to the delinquency of minors, but didn’t stop passing the bottle over whenever Patrick motioned for it. Patrick wondered if Pete would ever say no to him about anything, ever, and wondered what he’d done to deserve Pete as a friend.

Suddenly overcome with affection for his friend, Patrick looped his arm around Pete’s shoulders and laid his head on Pete’s shoulder. His friend looked down at him, expression bemused, but quickly changing into a smile as he kissed Patrick quickly on the top of his head before facing back towards the stage where the band were just coming on.

Patrick tried to watch Mikey, and Tom, and Nick--he was here to see his friends play--but his eyes kept being drawn to the boy playing bass and singing his heart and soul into the microphone. He looked like he was born to be on the stage, throwing all his energy into his performance; not in the same way as Pete or Joe--that was generally more like a force of nature than a stage performance. He simply couldn’t keep still as he played, unless he was singing; bouncing around gently and moving his feet.

When the band wound up with ‘Winter In Chicago’, Patrick’s favorite of their songs, he had to shut his eyes for a moment to ground himself. Jon’s voice lent itself to the song, and Patrick couldn’t help but think that it must be a little disloyal, to be almost glad that Adam had left since it brought them Jon. There was no denying that the kid was talented, and Patrick wondered how he hadn't noticed when he'd seen Farewell Night the previous year. Probably because he'd known that they were all sixteen.

God, he was so totally fucked.

The band wound up the song, and the set, with a drum flourish from Nick, and as the crowd cheered, Patrick noticed Jon's eyes scanning the crowd. When they fell on Patrick, Jon's face lit up with a smile, and Patrick smiled back, even as his chest went tight. Yep. Totally fucked.

He didn't have time to gather his thoughts before Pete was dragging him through the crowd to the stage door. They slipped through and into the room they'd hung out in before the show.

The band were laughing and horsing around, talking loudly and hi-fiving each other at random intervals. Patrick knew that they were still coming down from the adrenalin high, and wished for a moment that it had been them on stage tonight. There wasn't a feeling like it in the world. Glancing around, he noticed that it was only Tom, Mikey and Nick who were messing around; Jon was standing off to one side, quietly drinking from a bottle of water.

When Tom saw them, he bounded over and looped his arm around Patrick's waist.

"Patrick! You need to tell Jon that he was awesome out there tonight, 'cause he won't believe us."

Patrick looked in astonishment at Jon, who was staring at his feet, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

"Are you kidding me? You guys were amazing out there tonight. All of you." Jon looked up at him, face still flushed and sweating from the exertion of performing, and Patrick suppressed a whimper.

"You really think so?" Jon asked, eyes wide and hopeful. "I mean, I wasn't sure how it would go, being the first time out playing these songs in front of a crowd, and I'm pretty sure I messed up the bridge in 'Kissing Old Friends'."

Patrick shook his head. "I didn't hear you make any mistakes, man."

"Thank you," Tom huffed. "Now maybe he'll stop emoing about it. Patrick Stump has spoken!"

Patrick stuck his tongue out at Tom, before wondering self-consciously what Jon would think of his childishness. But Jon's face split in a smile, and then he was laughing, and Patrick had to firmly tell himself that, no, that was not like the most beautiful music he had ever heard, because he was not a girl, and therefore did not think such insanely sentimental thoughts.

"Did you guys say that you were going to the beach once you were cleaned up?" Pete asked.

Tom looked at him in surprise. "Yeah, we are. How did you...or did Jon already ask you if you wanted to come?"

"Well, he asked Patrick," Pete said, his expression almost completely innocent, unless you knew what to look for. Smug bastard.

"Oh?" Tom raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure he meant to invite both of you."

"Of course I did," Jon said quickly.

"Well, that's settled," Nick grinned, clapping Jon on the shoulder. "I'm gonna change my shirt and give Bill a call, and then I'll be ready."

"Oh, Bill's coming? Awesome!" Bill wasn't always Patrick's favorite person - he could be a bit of a bitch, and was far too aware of how pretty he was. But he was a good friend when you needed him to be, and to Patrick that was really all that mattered.

"Yeah, I need to change. I swear, if there was some way to play shows without sweating out what feels like half my bodyweight I'd be totally on board with it," Tom said, sniffing at his t-shirt and wrinkling his nose.

"Alright, well, me and Patrick are gonna go and grab some beer and we'll meet you there, okay?" Pete smiled brightly at the other boys before grabbing Patrick's hand and dragging him out on the wave of their goodbyes. Patrick tolerated the manhandling until they reached his car, then pulled his hand out of Pete's grip.

"What the hell was that all about?" he hissed, glaring at his friend.

Pete sighed, leaning against the car door. "Because if we'd stayed in there, it would have just gotten awkward." Patrick raised an eyebrow, and Pete held up a hand. "No, listen, it would've. Look, I saw how you were eyeing JWalk--no, shut up, I saw you--and if we'd been in there another five minutes he would've taken his shirt off, you'd've blushed, and the other guys--who've only seen the way he's been looking at you so far--would have noticed." Pete shrugged. "I was just trying to save your dignity, man."

"Oh." Suddenly Patrick felt very stupid, and more than a little guilty. "Sorry, man." He leaned on the car beside Pete and bumped their shoulders together. They stood in silence for a few moments when something occurred to him. "Hey, what did you mean, 'the way he's been looking at me'?"

Pete grinned enigmatically. "Come on. We'll drop your car at mine and I'll give you a lift to the beach. You'd better call your mom, let her know you're staying at mine."

"Oh, I am, huh?" Patrick laughed, pulling the car keys from his pocket and pushing Pete off his car so he could unlock it and climb in. "See you there!" he called. Pete just waved, already jogging towards his car. Shaking his head, Patrick started the engine and started the drive out to Pete's.

***

"You know I'm going to have to get up ridiculously early to get the car back to my mom, don't you?" Patrick asked as Pete drove away from the liquor store, the car now four six-packs heavier.

"That's okay, I'll wake you up. I’ll be awake anyway," Pete said. He was grinning, but Patrick noticed that his eyes were shadowed.

"Still not sleeping?"

Pete shrugged. "Nah. My mom's trying to get me to take sleeping pills, but you know how I feel about that."

"But if it helps...."

"Just...don't, alright?" It wasn't said harshly, but there was something in Pete's tone that made Patrick drop it. "So, tell me again why you still don't have your own car?" Patrick recognized this for what it was--an attempt to change the subject--and shrugged.

"Because it's easy enough to borrow my mom's and that means I can save my money, which might come in handy when we're touring?"

"Pfft. But it would free you up so much!"

Patrick rolled his eyes. "But why bother, when I have you to drive me around?" he asked sweetly, batting his eyelashes. Pete laughed.

"Charmer. If you're not careful, I'll steal you away from your Johnny Walker."

"He's not mine, Pete, shut up." Patrick fought a blush as they parked next to the beach, seeing people down there already.

"Whatever, Pat," Pete snorted as they got out of the car. Patrick refused to dignify that with a response and, grabbing one of the liquor store bags from Pete, traipsed down to join their friends.

A bunch of people Patrick recognized from around the Chicago music scene were down there already: the 5o4plan guys, of course; Bill and the other The Academy guys - Michael, Adam, Adrian and Mike; Jeff and Chris from Knockout... There were others there too that Patrick recognized from around but couldn't put names to. Jon was sitting between Tom and Bill, bottle of beer in hand, laughing at something Bill had said. Patrick felt a slight twinge of jealousy and inwardly berated himself for being stupid; these were Jon's friends too, and he had no right to be jealous, even if William fucking Beckett was laughing along and tucking his hair behind his ear and batting his eyelashes....

Patrick grabbed the open bottle of beer that Pete had handed him and took a drink, trying to hide his expression. Of course, as usual, Pete had been paying far too much attention.

"You looked like you were just about ready to kill our friend William there, Patrick," Pete murmured, low enough that no-one else could hear. When Patrick didn't respond, Pete clapped him on the shoulder. "C'mon, man, you know Bill. He does this all the time, with everybody, and it usually doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah. Usually," Patrick said morosely, watching Bill lean over to say something directly into Jon's ear, laying a hand on Jon's knee as he did so.

Pete sighed. "Come on. Let's go join the party." Patrick reluctantly followed Pete down to where everyone was sitting scattered around the small fire. Patrick decided as he sat next to Pete that he wasn't going to look at Jon (and William), wasn't going to watch them paw at each other all night, wasn't going to watch the hot skinny boy get the guy that he, Patrick, was crushing on, wasn't going to.....

"Um, is anyone sitting here?" Startled out of his morose musings, Patrick looked up and saw Jon standing in front of him, looking nervous.

"Uh...no?"

"You don't sound too sure... I could sit somewhere else?" Jon's face fell, and Patrick felt like the biggest idiot ever.

"No! I mean, that wasn't supposed to sound like a question. Or, I mean, not like that. I just...you looked like you were having fun over there with the other guys..." Patrick trailed off, unsure how to continue without giving away his own feelings or insecurities.

"Yeah, Bill's fun, but he can get a bit much, y'know?" Jon smiled, sitting on the sand next to Patrick. "The kid just flirts with everything that moves; it's like a compulsion. At first it's funny, but after a while it's just annoying." Jon rolled his eyes, and Patrick laughed.

"Yeah. He's a good guy, though." Patrick frowned as something occurred to him. "Wait, "kid"? Aren't you younger than him?"

"Yeah, but, y'know." Jon grinned, and Patrick laughed.

"Good point." Taking a sip of his beer, Patrick cast around for something to say that didn't sound dorky or pointless. "So, have you always wanted to be in a band?" he settled on finally, knowing that it was dumb small-talk, but just wanting to break the silence.

Jon shrugged. "I dunno, not really. I mean, I'll probably go to college after I graduate. I just don't know that I'm good enough, y'know? Not like you guys--I can't count the number of times I've listened to Take This To Your Grave already."

Patrick's eyes widened. "But...it's only been out a couple of weeks!"

"I know, but. It's pretty addictive." Jon looked a little embarrassed to be admitting this, and Patrick smiled.

"That's really awesome. Thanks, man." He cleared his throat. "You guys are pretty awesome too, though. I mean, 5o4plan have done Warped Tour twice already." He sighed. "I'd love to play Warped Tour. That would be awesome."

"I'm sure you will. Maybe you'll headline someday."

Patrick laughed. "You really have faith in our band, don't you?" he said, a hint of wonder in his voice.

"Why is that surprising?"

"I don't know, just...there are so many awesome bands around the scene--better than us--who haven't made it big yet."

Jon shook his head. "There aren't many better than you guys. I mean, you're all such awesome musicians, and your melodies... And like I said, you have such an amazing voice. I don't think I've ever heard anyone with a voice like yours before."

"It's true," Pete butted in, turning round from where he'd been pretending to talk to Nick, instead of listening to Patrick and Jon’s conversation. "Our Patrick could out-sing anyone."

"Dude, shut up," Patrick said, blushing. He could never get used to being praised for his voice, especially not to the extent that Pete insisted on.

"It's true, though," Jon said, and he sounded so sincere that Patrick just wanted to run and hide until they left him alone.

"Can't we talk about something else?" he asked desperately, and both Jon and Pete laughed, before Pete launched into a rambling diatribe about how much the country was failing under Bush. Allowing himself to lean slightly towards Jon, Patrick reflected on the fact that even though Pete hadn't actually finished his degree in political science, he'd never quite got over it.

***

Four beers, two joints and god-knew-how-many hours later, Patrick was almost snorting with laughter at Jon's eerily accurate impression of Sisky. Sisky himself, as well as most of The Academy boys, had left--almost everyone had, in fact, leaving only the 5o4plan guys, Jeff, Chris, HeyChris, William, Patrick and Pete. Everyone except for he and Jon seemed to be involved in some kind of game involving empty beer bottles, a large plank of wood, and the spare tire from HeyChris's truck. Patrick didn't have a clue what they were doing - wasn't sure that he wanted to know, in fact - but they seemed to be having fun.

"Hey, Patrick!" Tom yelled, and Patrick looked over. "Fire's a bit low. Can you go find some more wood?"

"Sure," he called back, getting rather unsteadily to his feet.

"Take JWalk with you," Pete called. "Then you'll be able to carry more."

Patrick opened his mouth to protest, because Pete needed to shut up about this right the fuck now before everyone there figured it out, but Jon was already nodding.

“Good call. We should be able to collect enough between us, right?” he said, standing up and almost losing his balance as he did so. He grabbed Patrick’s arm for a second, righting himself, and then…didn’t let go. Patrick held his breath and looked at Jon, who smiled at him, then let go. “C’mon. We should be able to find some this way.”

Patrick followed Jon down the beach away from their friends, towards some dunes. As Jon had predicted, there was a fair amount of dumped wood lying around, and they started to collect it into a pile in companionable silence.

The alcohol and weed was making Patrick’s head buzz, and he stood up straight, swaying a little. He felt a steadying hand on his shoulder and leaned into it slightly.

“You alright?” Jon asked, and Patrick exhaled heavily.

“Yeah, just a little dizzy,” he said, turning around, and….

Wow.

Patrick hadn’t realized just how close Jon had been standing until his nose collided with Jon’s chin. He froze, the drugs and his proximity to Jon clouding his brain. He felt panic rising in his chest and made to move away, maybe apologize, when Jon huffed out, “God, Patrick,” and leaned down, and oh. Oh.

Patrick hadn’t kissed a guy for a while--only girls--and he had almost forgotten how different it was. Jon’s lips were slightly chapped as they moved over his, the hand that had wrapped around the back of his neck was rough with guitar calluses, there was stubble from Jon’s chin brushing against his, and all Patrick could do was bring his hands up to wrap around Jon’s waist and hold on. Tilting his head up to deepen the kiss, Patrick moaned at the first touch of Jon’s tongue against his own.

He felt as though time had slowed as they kissed, like he was moving through molasses. Jon tasted like beer, and pot, and salt, and something else underlying it all, and Patrick couldn’t get enough. Somehow they had moved even closer together, the planes of their bodies flush against each other. He felt a moment of self-consciousness as Jon squeezed at his waist; Jon wasn’t exactly a skinny scene kid, like William, but he certainly wasn’t big, and Patrick worried for a moment that Jon might recoil from the feel of the slightly-more-than-average fleshiness around his middle. But Jon simply pressed even tighter, bitten-down fingernails scratching a little under Patrick’s t-shirt.

Patrick shifted, overcome with the need to get even closer even though he wasn’t sure it was even possible, but the movement overbalanced them and Patrick tumbled backwards onto the sand, dragging Jon down on top of him. Luckily, Jon had enough wits about him to throw out his hands, stopping himself from landing heavily on top of Patrick.

“Sorry,” Patrick said, moving as if to get up, but Jon didn’t budge, instead lowering himself down until he was lying on top of Patrick, their bodies pressed together again.

“I’m not,” Jon said, but he looked a little nervous, as if afraid that Patrick would push him away. Which, of course, he had no intention of doing right now, because having Jon lying on top of him felt a little bit too good. He smiled and tugged Jon’s head down, picking up where they had been before they had fallen.

Their new position gave the kiss a whole new dimension, and Patrick felt himself growing hard at the added friction. He tried to move his hips away, but Jon pressed closer, and…huh. So Patrick wasn’t the only one with that problem, then. He shifted again, this time rubbing his hips against Jon’s, and Jon let out a quiet moan that went straight to Patrick’s cock, and then fuck, Jon was moving his hips too. Their kisses became more desperate, with more teeth and tongue than finesse as their movements became more frantic, and ohgod if this kept up Patrick was going to come in his pants like a kid and he really didn’t care.

“God, Jon,” Patrick gasped out, and Jon buried his face in Patrick’s neck, hips bucking before going still. Patrick’s eyes widened when he realized that Jon had just come--he’d made Jon come--and then Jon was kissing him again, bringing a hand down to rub at the front of Patrick’s jeans, and Patrick came almost instantly, biting his tongue to stop himself from yelling.

They lay panting for a few moments, before Jon blinked up at him, smiling.

“I’d like to clarify,” he said slowly, voice a little breathless, “that I am not usually that easy. I just. I really like you.”

Patrick grinned. “Same here. On all counts.” He grimaced at the feeling of his damp boxers. “Although I think next time we should definitely do this in a situation where our clothes will not get ruined.”

Patrick wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Jon’s smile couldn’t have powered the whole of Chicago. “So…you want there to be a next time?”

“Are you kidding me?” Patrick laughed. “Jon Walker, if there aren’t a lot of next times I think I might just die.”

“Good.” Jon kissed him quickly, before standing up. “But now I really just want to take off my underwear and bury it so I don’t have to sit like this in Tom’s car.”

“That is a really good idea,” Patrick said, nodding, and pushed himself up. He felt surprisingly shy about stripping off in front of Jon, and almost fell over in his haste. He used his soiled boxers to try to clean himself up a bit before closing his jeans--being extremely careful; he’d seen There’s Something About Mary--and turning back to Jon, who was wrinkling his nose at his own boxer-briefs.

“I kinda don’t want some kid to dig in the sand and randomly find these,” he laughed, and Patrick had to agree.

“Oh, hey!” He reached into his pocket. “Here, have a plastic bag! I saved the ones that we brought the beer in.”

“Perfect! We can just hide them in our jackets when we get back to the others,” Jon said, dropping his underwear into the bag Patrick handed him. When Patrick had done the same, Jon walked over and pressed himself against Patrick’s side. “When can I see you again?”

“Are you busy tomorrow?” Patrick asked. Jon grinned, and Patrick couldn’t have cared less about ruining his clothes. He had spares at Pete’s anyway.

***

They picked up an armful of wood each before they went back down the beach. There had been a few more kisses, and a frantic search for Patrick's cap when he realized it had fallen off and he had no idea when, before they had decided that they had to go back or risk their friends figuring out exactly what they'd been up to.

Patrick couldn't stop looking over at Jon as they walked, and it seemed as though Jon was having the same problem. When they reached their friends, it looked as though the game was winding down, but Patrick dropped some wood on the embers of the fire anyway, sitting next to Jon. Unlike before, they were now sitting so close that their arms brushed every time they moved, and every time they did Patrick fought a blush.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the others tumbling around in the sand.

"So when do you want to meet up tomorrow?" Patrick asked at length.

Jon stretched out his legs and leaned back on his forearms. "I have to work until 6, but I'll be free after."

"Where do you work?"

"Got a weekend job at Starbucks."

Patrick laughed. "I used to think that would be Pete's dream job. That close to that much caffeine all day? He'd be in heaven."

"Yeah," Jon grinned. "Although it's not like we're just allowed to drink coffee whenever we feel like it, which is just as well. You get buzzy enough from just sniffing it all day."

"God, y'know, I don't even want to think about what he'd be like. Terrifying thought."

"What is?" asked Pete, bounding up to them and flopping down on the sand beside them.

"Oh...nothing," Patrick said airily, sharing a smile with Jon. Pete looked between them for a moment, then his eyes widened dramatically. Patrick felt a wave of panic--Pete had obviously figured out that something had happened between Patrick and Jon.

Fortunately, though, he chose not to say anything about it. Instead, he slung an arm around Patrick's shoulders. "Anyway, boys, we're all thinking of calling it a night." Patrick glanced over to the other guys, who were tidying the rubbish into bags and putting out the fire. "Meet you at the cars, yeah?" He smirked at Patrick as he got up, going over to the others and herding them off the beach.

Jon stood, putting out a hand to help Patrick to his feet. Instead of letting go when Patrick was up, though, Jon pulled him in for a kiss.

"So, tomorrow?" Jon smiled, and Patrick took out his cell.

"Why don't you give me a call when you get off work and I can come meet you?"

"Awesome." Jon typed Patrick’s number into his phone, and Patrick leaned in for one more kiss.

Pulling away reluctantly, he sighed. "Come on. We'd better go before someone comes down here to find us."

They walked up to the parking lot, grinning at Tom leaning out the window of his car and shouting, "Jon Walker, you get your ass in this car right now or I swear to god I'm leaving your ass here". Jon laughed and ran towards the car, jumping into the back with one last wave to Patrick.

Climbing into the passenger seat of Pete's car, Patrick sighed. Pete patted his knee before putting the car in drive and pulling out onto the road, honking the horn at the other guys.

"So, you and JWalk, huh?" Pete grinned at his expression. "Don't worry, dude, I'm not looking for details." He shuddered melodramatically. "I just. I'm happy for you, man. And he obviously really likes you and sees what an awesome person you are, which makes him alright in my book." His expression turned mock-serious. "Of course, I hope he realizes that if he hurts you then I will have to kill him."

Patrick rolled his eyes, secretly pleased, as always when Pete looked out for him. "Shut up, dude." He looked down and smiled. "He works in Starbucks, you know."

Pete's face lit up. "No way! Do you think he'll give me free coffee if I go in there?"

Patrick repressed the urge to plant his face in his hands. "No, Pete, you are not allowed to go and hassle my boyfriend while he's at work. I expressly forbid it."

"Boyfriend, hmm?"

Patrick blinked, realizing what he'd said. "Uhh...."

Pete laughed. "Chill out, man. I'm happy for you, I really am." He parked the car in his driveway and killed the engine, looking fondly at Patrick. "Now, we need to get you inside without my mom seeing you, because you are fucking wasted, Patrickstump."

Patrick considered pretending to be insulted, but couldn't actually be bothered to make the effort. He just grinned, and didn't stop smiling until he had collapsed next to Pete on his bed and fallen into a deep sleep.

***

Patrick sat hunched over his cup of coffee, wondering why, at the time, drinking far too much always seemed like the best idea ever. Pete poked him on the shoulder.

"You alive?" he asked jokingly, and Patrick flipped him the bird. He couldn't be too annoyed, though; Pete had woken him up early, as promised, with dark shadows under his eyes that spoke of another sleepless night. Patrick hadn't mentioned it, knowing that if Pete wanted to talk about it he would bring it up himself. When Patrick had taken the car back to his mom, Pete had come with him in his own car to drive him straight back, and had then made him breakfast as soon as they got back to Pete's. Well, pop tarts and coffee, but that was really all Patrick was sure his stomach could handle right now.

"So, what time are you meeting Jon?"

"Uh, when he finishes work, around 6? He's gonna call me when he's done."

"Well, you could wait," Pete said slowly. "Or you could just happen to stop by his Starbucks for coffee this afternoon while you're out shopping."

"But I'm not going shopping today," Patrick said, confused.

"No, but I am, and you're coming with me. I'm bored of my shirts, and I need new ones."

He stood and clapped Patrick on the shoulder, leaving Patrick blinking in bemusement.

"Don't I get any say in this?" he asked, not entirely sure when he had lost track of the conversation.

"Nope!" Pete said cheerfully, putting the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher with an enthusiasm that had Patrick fearing the distinct possibility of broken crockery. "Now hurry up and finish your coffee so we can get out there."

Gulping down the last of his coffee, Patrick followed his best friend out to the car, musing that, often, it was best just to go along with Pete's mad schemes and not ask questions.

***

This was absolutely, positively, the last time he was ever going to go shopping with Pete, Patrick thought to himself, as he did every time he was in this situation - him standing around outside the changing rooms in countless stores while Pete tried on dozens of shirts.

"Gah!" Pete said in disgust, handing a pile of shirts to the attendant. "There's never anything awesome in these stores. It's always the same shit in every store, just marketed differently."

"Maybe you should open your own clothing store, then," Patrick said absently, wondering what he and Jon should do later--they couldn't go to the beach, since that's what they'd done last night... Maybe they could see a movie. Was Jon even into movies?

He stopped walking when he realized that Pete wasn't following him any more. Turning around, he saw Pete staring at him, eyes wide.

"Ohmygod, Patrick. That is the best idea ever!" Pete looked as though he was going to explode with excitement, and Patrick tried not to groan.

"You know I was kidding, right?" Patrick said slowly, but Pete just waved a hand dismissively.

"But, Patrick, can you imagine?" he sighed, looking enraptured. "Everyone would dress like me!"

Too filled with horror to fully contemplate the possibility of thousands of Mini-Me Petes, Patrick decided that changing the subject was the best course of action.

"So where do you want to go next?" Patrick asked as Pete led him towards the checkout; for all that Pete proclaimed he thought that the shirts were shit, he was still buying a large pile of them.

Pete smirked. "I thought we might stop off at Starbucks. I'm in the mood for some caffeine."

Patrick shook his head. "No. No way."

"Why not?"

Patrick considered mentioning how stupid it was for someone who was technically an adult to pout like that, but refrained, knowing it wouldn't do any good. "Because! I'm not going to pester him while he's working. And what if the people he works with don't know? I just don't..." He frowned, biting his lip, and Pete's expression softened.

"Patrick...are you ever going to accept the possibility that someone might actually be really into you? Or the fact that you are really, really cute?" Pete thanked the cashier as he picked up his bags from the counter, and put an arm around Patrick's waist as they walked towards the door. "Jon obviously thinks you're hot--he couldn't stop blushing every time you talked to him, and you didn't hear him when he was waiting to meet you--so you need to stop worrying."

"I don't know which one he works at, though," Patrick said, a little triumphantly. There was no way Pete could get around that.

But Pete just took out his cell phone and waved it. "See, I thought you'd say that, so I asked Tom. And what do you know, it's the one just round the corner from here." Laughing as he skipped out of reach of Patrick's outstretched arm, Pete ran towards the Starbucks, waiting until Patrick had caught up before pushing open the door and stepping inside. Resigned, Patrick walked in behind him, hands buried defensively in his pockets.

The coffee house was almost empty, with only a few people sitting at the tables. Patrick hoped that Jon was on a break, that Pete wouldn't insist on waiting in here, that....

"Patrick! Um, hey!" Patrick's head turned at the familiar voice, and saw Jon standing by the counter. "I thought that we were going to meet after my shift?" Jon didn't seem annoyed that he was there, though; in fact, he was grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah, uh...Pete was shopping, and we thought we'd pop in and say hey. And get coffee."

"I'm glad you did." Jon rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at Pete who was reading the menu board with a glazed look in his eyes. "Hey, I've got a break coming up if you guys can hang around?" He looked so nervous and hopeful that Patrick just wanted to kiss him. A lot.

"We can do that," Patrick smiled, and Jon beamed at him.

"Awesome. So," he said, heading behind the counter, "what can I get you?"

***

Patrick tried to pay attention to Pete as he talked; really, he did. But he couldn't help his gaze sliding over to the counter, watching Jon as he took orders, laughed with customers, and joked around with the girl making the coffee. Occasionally, Jon would look up and catch his eye, smiling, and Patrick's face would flame as he looked quickly back down at his coffee.

After the fourth--or possibly fifth--time he had done this, Patrick looked back up at Pete, who had stopped talking and was grinning at Patrick.

"What?" Patrick asked, shuffling self-consciously in his seat.

"Dude, you have got it bad," Pete said in a low voice, eyes flicking over to where Jon was doing some kind of acrobatic juggling trick involving a bottle of smoothie, a muffin and a latte spoon.

"Shut up," Patrick mumbled, burying his face in his hands and trying to ignore Pete laughing at him. It was easy enough--he'd had enough practice.

"You guys alright?" Patrick looked up to see Jon standing next to the table, wiping his hands on his Starbucks-green apron.

"Um, yeah." Patrick smiled up at him shyly, ignoring Pete's smirk.

"Well, um, I'm just going to take my break, if it's still okay for me to join you guys?"

"Of course!" Pete said brightly, and Patrick nodded.

"Cool. Do you guys want me to grab you anything while I'm up? My treat."

“No thanks, I’m fine.” Both Patrick and Jon looked at Pete in amazement, and he shrugged. “What?”

“I just…I’ve never known you to turn down free caffeine before. Ever,” Patrick said, shocked. Pete shrugged, and Patrick turned back to Jon. “Um, could I have another hazelnut latte?”

“Of course!” Jon’s smile widened, and he wandered over to the counter, undoing his apron as he went. Patrick watched as he said something to the Coffee Girl, laughed, and walked back over.

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “So much for the coffee,” he teased.

Jon laughed. “Sophie’s going to bring it over. Don’t worry, you’ll get your caffeine.” He made to pull a chair over to the table, but Pete jumped up.

"Hey, why don't you just take this chair? I've gotta go, anyway."

Patrick's eyes narrowed. He should have known. "You're not staying?"

Pete shook his head, and Patrick could see him trying to hide a smile, the bastard. "Nah. I, uh, just remembered that I forgot a shirt."

"But you bought eight!"

"Yesbut, Patrick, this was a very specific shirt which I forgot to buy. So I shall have to leave you here for a bit, and you can come find me when Jon's break is over." Nodding cheerily to Jon, Pete stood and practically skipped towards the door, whistling tunelessly as he did so. Patrick couldn't help but laugh, and when he looked up he saw that Jon was doing the same.

"He's not subtle, is he?" Jon grinned, sitting down.

"As a brick to the back of the head," Patrick snorted.

"How was your hangover this morning?"

"Oh, god, it was pretty bad," Patrick groaned. "I had to wake up seriously early to take my mom's car back, but Pete drove me back to his after and fed me coffee and Pop Tarts, so it could have been worse."

"Now that's what I call a good friend," Jon smiled, but it wasn't the full on grin from before; there was something off about it.

"Yeah," Patrick nodded. "He's crazy, but he's the best friend I've ever had." He shook his head, laughing. "Anyway, he owes me, considering I kept him in cookies and coffee when his last girlfriend broke up with him. And probably will when the next one does as well."

"Oh, so you two aren’t...?"

Patrick blinked in surprise at Jon, gaze not even wavering as the girl—Sophie--brought over their coffees. "Pete? God, no! I mean, we. There was a thing that, um. There was this one time, but that was different, and Pete…Pete isn’t even really into guys." He took a sip of coffee when something occurred to him. "Wait, you didn't think that we were...now, did you?"

Jon's expression said it all. "I just...you guys are so close, and you always seem to know what each other are thinking, and he's always draped around you. I guess I just thought...."

Patrick smiled reassuringly. "Pete's a touchy-feely guy with his friends. He'll probably start molesting you when you've been hanging out with us for a while."

Jon blushed, looking pleased. "You think we'll be hanging out enough for him to get to know me that well?"

"I hope so," Patrick said nervously. He knew that he was probably setting himself up for being hurt; he knew what he looked like, and Jon was...well, Jon. But he couldn't help it, not when Jon was looking at him with wide eyes.

"I hope so too," Jon said quietly, expression turning serious, and Patrick resisted the urge to pump his fist in elation like a total dork.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, smiling shyly at each other between sips of coffee. Then Sophie started clearing her throat and looking pointedly at her watch, and Jon looked sheepishly.

"I guess my break’s over," Jon laughed, standing. Patrick stood too, swallowing the last sip of coffee as he did so. "So, I'll, uh. I'll see you at six?" Jon asked, stepping so close into his space that Patrick could feel the heat from Jon's body.

"Yeah," Patrick croaked, mouth gone dry. Jon smiled sunnily at him.

"Awesome." Glancing around, Jon leaned down and kissed him quickly, before walking back towards the counter. Patrick resisted the urge to lick his lips and, grabbing his jacket, waved at Jon as he walked towards the door.

***

Patrick found Pete in a shoe store two doors down, poring over about twenty different pairs with a look of intense concentration. Sneaking up behind him, Patrick poked Pete hard on the arm, suppressing a smirk when his friend yelped.

"What the hell was that for?" Pete asked crossly, rubbing his arm.

"Way to not be subtle, fucker," Patrick mock-growled.

"Dude, you can't be pissed at me because I refused to play third wheel on that little mini-date with your boyfriend!"

Patrick laughed, unable to help himself in the face of Pete's righteous indignation. "Nah. Just, seriously, dude. A little subtlety never hurt anyone."

"Nope, but a lot can kill ya," Pete quipped, and Patrick rolled his eyes.

"Okay, man, that is it. I am confiscating your copy of Jumanji."

Pete's eyes widened in horror. "Pat, you wouldn't--you couldn't--do that to me! I love that movie!" Patrick simply looked at him with raised eyebrows until Pete looked away. "God, you're an evil bastard, Patrick," Pete muttered. "Whatever. Which pair do you think I should buy?"

"Do you really need another pair of shoes?"

Pete gaped at him. "This from the guy who can't actually count how many pairs of shoes he owns? Who can't go three weeks without buying a new pair? Who...."

Patrick just grinned and let Pete's ranting wash over him as his thoughts drifted back to the feeling of Jon's lips on his.



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