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Patrick wishes he was more offline, if such a thing was even possible. He wishes he was not intimately familiar with what certain notification sounds were (you’d be surprised how many DCD2 members did not keep their phones on silent) and therefore he did not instantly recognize the sound that came from Pete’s phone.
It had been a very normal day before. Pete and him had hung out, mostly talked about random stuff, which then led to them trying to create a TV show, and then songs to go with that TV show, before ultimately realizing they were too lazy to create a whole plot and pitch it to someone. Patrick figures they can just workshop it.
He’s in the middle of picking a movie (not Terminator 2, there’s only so much he can handle before going nuts) when Pete’s phone lights up. It’s normally on silent, but Pete must’ve forgotten, because even without looking down at it he can instantly identify the app just from the noise.
Patrick closes his eyes and counts down slowly. When he opens them, Pete has picked up his phone, and is clearly texting somebody.
Don’t ask don’t ask don’t-“Hey, what was that for?” Dammit. Normally, he’s a better actor than this, but currently Patrick is clenching the edges of the couch like he’s planning to rip it to shreds. He can literally feel the tremors start to work through his body.
“Grindr.” Pete is giving him his rare concerned look, like he’s just a step away from going and checking if he’s sick. He feels sick. “Are you alright?”
Alright? What really constitutes alright? If you think about it, there’s no real difference in his life between here and now, except knowing that his best friend is on the.. oh god, the gay sex app. Seriously?
“Fine.” His first mistake is peeking over at Pete’s phone. Patrick physically feels his blood pressure start to skyrocket when he gets a glance at what the other guy is sending him. “No, I’m good. Breezy. Hey, Breakfast Club is on, let’s talk about that instead.”
Pete still has his eyebrows raised, like Patrick is insane, but he puts the phone down (thank god) and starts paying attention to the screen. And hey, lucky them, the movie’s barely started.
Halfway through, Pete drops his head onto his shoulder. Patrick can’t even sit and appreciate that, because he’s still silently fuming and stressing.
Okay, he knows Pete has needs. Hell, Patrick has needs too. He just thought they were both locked into solidarity semi-celibacy, where neither of them really had sex unless they just met someone and clicked. Patrick might’ve just been pushing that delusion though, because he’s more focused on music ninety percent of the time to even think about getting laid. Of course Pete isn’t like that.
And since when has Pete liked guys? Okay, wait, scratch that, since when has Pete gone all the way with guys? It’s not like they sit and gossip about their sex lives (he shudders to imagine that) but he doesn’t remember this coming up ever. Patrick should’ve known, right, or at least recognized it somehow when it happened. Really, Pete should’ve told him. He has a duty as a best friend to inform of these things, nevermind the many times he hinted away from tabloids that he wasn’t actually only gay above the belt. Or that one really weird conversation with Chris. Doesn’t count!
Patrick has never used Grindr, but he knows it’s.. ugh, supposed to be casual and maybe kinky hookups. It’s not sophisticated, and it’s definitely nowhere near romantic (and Pete is a romantic guy, very in his feelings). There’s no way any of the guys on that app could possibly deserve Pete. They probably don’t even realize who they’re messaging!
Fuck, and now he’s picturing Pete, getting solicited dick pics and messages from people with usernames like ‘DirtyDaddy538’ along with explicit rambles from guys about his best features. This is all fine. Patrick doesn’t care.
“Patrick, you’re tensing up. It’s uncomfortable.”
Patrick forces himself to relax, where previously he had been trying to hike his shoulders up to his ears. Pete hums happily and snuggles closer. Hah, he bets none of the guys on Grindr could ever get this.
--
Patrick manages to avoid the topic of Grindr for a while, which isn’t actually that hard. Pete’s probably been using it for a while, and Patrick’s new realization changes nothing in his life. Patrick is the one who can’t seem to stop thinking about it, or wanting to ask about it, or ponder inconspicuously going into Pete’s phone while they’re hanging out and deleting it.
“Patrick, do you think I should add more info to my profile?”
For a moment, he forgets all about random fling apps and his mind jumps immediately to Twitter. Then, Pete turns his phone around, showing his Grindr profile. The one with photos of Pete posing, with his shirt off. This is of course nothing new to him. He’s not having any sort of reaction at all. He’s seen Pete’s bare chest thousands of more times than anybody scrolling through that app. Fucking whatever.
“Look, see,” Pete hooks a foot around his ankle, dragging him closer. Patrick goes willingly, if only because it’s kind of hard to fight off his grip. “I figure I don’t fit most of the categories they use, maybe twunk but I don’t know, so I just put what I was into. But I didn’t want to go too in-depth..”
Patrick is trying very hard not to turn and look at what Pete is advertising to other men in his profile. He does not want to read any variation of ‘need cock’ ever, or try to involve himself in helping slut Pete out for all these weirdos.
Pete hums, musing. “You think they’d be interested if I mentioned that I’m still pretty flexible?” Patrick just manages not to choke.
Patrick forces a smile, although it makes his face hurt. “I think it looks fine. Really.” Stop showing it to me stop showing it to me oh god are those jeans really that low?
Pete shrugs, tapping away. “I mean, you’re probably right. I already have someone willing to meet up with me this Saturday.”
He controls his breathing very carefully and clutches the table like it’s a lifeline. He doesn’t need this extra stress in his life, especially not from Pete, who tends to make him want to rip his hair out sometimes. This whole situation might send him to an early grave.
There’s no good way to explain this to Pete. It’s not like he has a reasonable explanation for not wanting Pete to go other than ‘I really don’t want you to’. So well after Pete leaves, he calls Joe, because he figures if Joe can’t give him any advice, at least he could listen to his rant before getting tired and forcibly hanging up.
“Did you know?” Patrick asks as soon as Joe picks up, whispering like they’re undercover agents.
“Know.. what, exactly?”
“That Pete has Grindr!” Patrick bursts out, pacing back and forth. If you think about it, Pete is really ruining his life right now, because he could be spending time making more music or something. But instead, he’s forced to spend his time obsessing over Pete. All his fault.
“Oh, yeah, man. I helped him pick out some of the pictures.” Joe sounds completely relaxed, like there’s no reason to worry at all. Patrick can feel his grip start to dent the phone in an alarming way, so he switches to his other hand.
“Joe, why did no one tell me about this?! You do realize the implications, right?”
When Joe answers, he sounds entirely unimpressed. “Um, are you talking about Pete liking men? Because if you hadn’t figured that one out, you might be more oblivious than I thought..”
“No, no, not those implications. The fact that Pete is going to get kidnapped and exploited for money! Or sex acts!” He doesn’t understand how Joe can’t realize how horribly this is going to end.
A long sigh through the phone. “Peter is a big boy, I think he can handle himself. You, on the other hand, need to seriously calm down. Grindr really isn’t so bad.. Hey, maybe you should make a profile too!”
Patrick can literally feel himself shut down as soon as Joe utters those words. “No.”
“Yeah, you can put in your profile ‘bear, really into feminine men who play tennis’-”
“Absolutely not!” Patrick bursts out, debating whether to hang up now as Joe laughs through the phone at him. He should’ve just called Andy, even though that probably would have resulted in a lot more awkward conversation about the intricacies of Grindr.
“Maybe you should just get a puppy,” Joe muses. “They’ll always give you attention and probably never leave you. As long as you put a collar on them and lock them up real tight.”
For a moment, he pictures doing that to Pete. Then he blanches and thinks what the fuck. Being around Joe is seriously not helping him with his problem.
“Joe, let’s talk about something else. Please.”
Patrick can feel the shrug through the screen. Then Joe bursts into talking about the newest guitar he’s got, and Patrick can focus on that instead of whatever the hell is going on with him and Pete. Pete did say Saturday, right?
--
There’s a perfectly good explanation for why Patrick is skirting around alleyways and hiding behind his hat more than he has since 2005. It has nothing to do with the guy in front of him (broad, taller than Pete, probably fitting the description of some type of gay animal term), who has conveniently met up with Pete and is now trying to make it back to his apartment. Patrick is not gawking at the waves in Pete’s hair or the pretty makeup paired with one of his shorter skirts. And really, only Pete Wentz would get dressed up for probably only an hour’s worth of sex.
Patrick has been ducking behind street signs for about ten minutes, while Pete talks the guy’s ears off. The guy nods, actually offering input and not being an asshole. Patrick hates him, especially when recounting how Pete had laughed and commented on how much he interrupted just a day ago. This guy is showing no signs of an impending heartbreak, is not looking at Pete like he wants to use him and abuse him, keeps his hands to himself even with Pete pressing up against him. Patrick is seething with rage.
If Patrick were more normal, he would’ve probably just left Pete be. Okay, fine, Pete wants to bang men. That’s cool, he’s an ally, and there’s nothing wrong with experimenting late in life. Or whatever this is. But since this is Pete, and Patrick is definitely not normal, this is pretty much the only obvious path.
Patrick comes to a horrifying realization, among fantasies of snapping the guy’s fingers off (they’re coming way too close to Pete’s waist). What if when Pete starts getting laid more, he starts writing lyrics like a pop star? Are Fall Out Boy gonna have to start putting out rock-tinged Sabrina Carpenter covers? Patrick would do it, but he’d also probably kill himself after having to sing those lyrics unironically.
Amongst all these terrifying new lines of thought, Pete and the guy have stopped on the side of an apartment building (and seriously, they’re not even going through the main entrance, that’s so suspicious!). Patrick has not stilled behind a wall, for the sole purpose of peeking out and maybe trying to catch the door as they enter looney-tunes style (he hasn’t really thought that far ahead). Instead, he has parked himself right in front of the alleyway, in plain sight. Before he can duck behind a trash can or something (and honestly, count his losses) Pete turns and spots him instantly. Patrick gets to see the combination of disbelief, confusion, and bemusement that flits over his face.
“Patrick?” Glumly, he steps farther into the alleyway, now that he’s essentially been caught. Or well, maybe not. Maybe he can still get out of this situation with his dignity intact. “Dude, were you following me?” Or maybe not.
Lie. Lie lie lie- “It was for your own good!” Fuck.
Pete raises his eyebrows, laughing. The guy next to him is looking between them curiously. He’s still standing way too close to Pete. Patrick is tempted to barrel forward and shove him to the ground.
“My own- what are you even talking about, Trick? I’m not exactly going on a playdate here.” Pete shakes his head, still grinning like this is all a big prank.
“Grindr is not a safe app. Have you not seen the horror stories? This guy could be using spiked lube, Pete!” Patrick only knows this because he went on a deep dive last night. Seriously, from some of the stuff he’s read, it really is better this way.
Pete rolls his eyes. “I brought my own lube, genius. Did you actually do research on this? Because maybe you could’ve done a deep dive on minding your own business.”
Patrick is weighing the cons of just going and dragging Pete away now. Who really needs a new Fall Out Boy record anyway? That’s when the Grindr date opens his mouth, presumably to say something, which makes Patrick’s blood boil even before his next words come out.
“Listen, Trick-“
No joke, Patrick’s vision actually warps and twists, like it’s trying to burst from the force of his wrath. Outside of himself, he’s impressed by the purity of his own anger.
“Don’t you dare fucking call me that. Only he can, okay?”
The guy blinks, and Patrick would feel guilty if he wasn’t so pissed. Pete no longer looks amused, but annoyed and frustrated. He marches over, dragging Patrick a few feet away, still in earshot of whatever-his-name.
“Patrick,” Pete hisses. “What the actual fuck? Seriously, I do not remember inviting you to creep in on my one night stand.”
Patrick splutters, tugging his arm away. “Okay, I wasn’t creeping- and, anyway, you shouldn’t be having those! You don’t know this guy! He could be a raging gay serial killer!” He directs that last part at the guy, who scrunches his face up and flips him off.
Pete raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Okay, I’m not sure if you know this, but most Ted Bundy’s aren’t looking for long walks on the beach or marathon sex. I think you can cross having a hero homo complex off your bucket list.”
“Pete, clearly you just don’t understand me-”
“Oh, I don’t understand you?”
“-But you have to realize that I am doing you a favor! Anonymous sex is never a good idea!”
Pete’s laugh is bitter and slightly deranged. “Oh my god, you’re actually crazy.”
“Um,” the guy pipes up, making both of their heads whip over to him. “I’m not a stranger? My name’s Omar, I like puzzles and bondage, this was all on my profile..”
“Shut up,” the both of them snap.
“Okay, this is clearly not going to be a threesome, I’m gonna go.."
Omar quickly scampered away, looking behind him until he turned the corner like he was afraid they were gonna drag him back to the metaphorical argument cuckchair. Hey, wasn’t this his apartment? Pete groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Patrick, you are such a cockblock.”
“What?! Don’t you remember that time, in 2002, and you totally-”
“Are you actually bringing up some random time when you were trying and failing to get your dick wet? Because I swear, I’ve never seen anyone with less game in my life-”
“That’s only because you were always barging in-”
“Three seconds, Patrick, three seconds before I strangle you against this brick wall-”
The door next to them bursts open, and the both of them yell (Patrick’s was definitely nowhere near high-pitched) and try to run away.. from the person in their pajamas, giving them a weird (and slightly scathing) look. Neither of them move or even make a sound as the person throws their trash in the dumpster, yawns, and then goes back inside.
A beat. The whole situation is starting to become more apparent to Patrick, and embarrassment is not too far down the corner. Did he seriously just stalk Pete through LA? Man, he should’ve just gone with Joe’s suggestion of getting a puppy. At least he could put a leash on those.
“Hey, do you think if Grindr had reviews like Yelp, that guy would give me 1 star?” Pete inclines, slightly hesitant and slightly curious.
Patrick turns, catching Pete’s eye. He still looked kind of frustrated, but also a little sheepish. It was after all a little late in life for them to still be subjecting the innocent public to their drama. “Well, technically, since he never.. ahem, got any service from you, I don’t think he could leave a review or rating at all.”
“Lucky me,” Pete shrugs, crossing his arms and hunching in on himself. “So.. I guess you weren’t actually okay with the whole Grindr thing?”
Patrick deflates. Sure, he was an asshole, but.. “Oh, god no. But I stand by the fact that the app is severely bad at protecting privacy and preventing catfishing or kidnapping..”
Pete gave him a look, and he shut his mouth. Right, maybe don’t die on this hill.
“It’s just, well, if you had told me you liked men, maybe I would’ve found out sooner that I.. or that us together wasn’t so hopeless.” Patrick felt a little lost. How exactly was he supposed to explain that he was in love with his best friend? Oh god, was he really? All those Twitter rants for nothing..
“Patrick, I wasn’t exactly hiding it,” Pete softened, smiling a bit and making Patrick feel a bit less off-center. “You were just pretty far back in the closet. Like way far back.”
“Okay, you might be right on that.”
“Like, way way way far back.”
“Pete, I get it.”
“Seriously, nobody could even see you anymore behind all those fedoras and streetwear-”
“Alright, I’m repressed! Totally understand that now!”
Pete cackled, and Patrick couldn’t help but grin back. For a moment, it was like this whole traipse across the city had never happened, and they were just hanging out and laughing together like they normally did. The small moment of normalcy, no matter how quickly it faded, made Patrick feel a bit better.
“So this means..”
“Yes.”
Pete grinned, a little mean and a little teasing. “Say it.”
Patrick closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his wits. “I really really like you, Petey,” he tried to reply in the most ‘teen-girl’ voice he could, but Pete still smiled like he had gotten down on one knee and spilled his guts out.
“I like you too, Trick,” and before any awkwardness could set in, Pete stepped forward and pressed their lips together without any sort of warning.
For longer than he’d care to admit, Patrick just stood there, unresponsive as Pete Wentz tried to climb him like a tree. Then he sprung into action, dragging Pete closer and responding eagerly to the kiss. Pete tasted a little like strawberry lip balm, and Patrick vowed to never let Omar come within 50 feet of Pete ever again. Who knows if he’d suddenly realize what he lost and try to fight Patrick for Pete’s honor? Although, how much honor does Pete really still have..
Patrick lost that train of thought quickly, because Pete was now groaning in between licks to his mouth, trying to grind forward against his grip. And hey, they were still in public, in an alley where anyone could look and see them, so maybe public sex wasn’t a good idea. Then again, people should just mind their own business really, because Pete was whining and sucking on his tongue like a man starved, and Patrick may have been repressed but not that repressed-
The door banged open once more. Patrick seriously wanted to strangle someone, preferably Omar, because it was his apartment building they were making out against. Still, it did kind of kill the mood when the random guy ran over to the corner of the alley and started throwing up.
He and Pete exchanged a look, then slowly edged out of the alleyway and back into civilization. Patrick almost wanted to ask if the dude was okay but- yeah, it was fine. The sensation of bricks digging into his back wasn’t really that nice anyway. Plus, who was already that wasted when the sun was still in the sky?
“Yikes. Well, I’ve got a couple hours to spare.” Pete eyed him, tangling their fingers together. Patrick was still kind of focused on the dude vomiting in the corner, mainly because the color seemed a little neon. He only hummed in response.
Pete coughed. “Patrick.”
“Hm?” Patrick came back to his senses all at once. “Oh! Shit, lead the way, I’ve got time to kill. One hundred percent. Let’s go, right now.”
Pete sighed, shaking his head a little, but he didn’t bother trying to hide his grin as they started the trek back.