Chapter Text
Prom— a school event that nobody wants to miss. You only get it once for two years, and that entire month, you will see people giving each other posters with cheesy pick up lines, and big plushies carried around.
Patrick wasn’t lucky enough to receive any of that, but he was lucky enough to have the confidence to ask a girl to go. It was his last year and he didn’t want to miss it just like year. Last year was miserable, being a target of bullies when school dances were right around the corner genuinely wasn’t the best feeling.
This year, nobody really messed with him anymore. Not after he dropped a few pounds, got new glasses, and started dressing like the guys in his favorite bands. His haircut was still kinda off, he cut it himself and somehow alway missed a few spots behind his ears…but that was just part of it. Patrick kept to himself at school and even at home, earbuds in most of the time, never bothering with homework. He wasn’t a bad kid or anything, just… off track. Unmotivated maybe. At home, he mostly just flipped through his CDs and texted people online. He didn’t have any siblings to keep him company.
Tonight, though, it was gonna hopefully be different. It was something he’d been wanting for a while. Kind of sucked that his parents were both working night shifts while he got ready, but honestly, it wasn’t like they paid much attention to him anyway. He got used to it by the time he entered his Sophomore year of high school.
Well, he wasn’t completely alone. There was his ‘babysitter,’ if you wanted to call it that. Patrick didn’t though. He preferred ‘house friend’ better. Pete had graduated a few years ago, 22 now, compared to Patrick’s 17, and yeah, it was a little embarrassing that his parents still insisted on someone staying with him considering he didn’t even go out. They thought he’d get into trouble otherwise. Said he had bad friends. Or just… friends in general, which to them was the same thing.
Pete only took the job for the extra cash. Saw some Facebook post looking for a “responsible older person” to babysit, and that was that. Patrick just hated that word, it made him sound like a little kid. But whatever. His family had money, nice suburban house outside Chicago, so Pete already knew it’d definitely pay well. Plus, the hours were easy compared to his day job. Just after school until Patrick’s parents got home from work. It helped that the teenager he watched over was easy. Very easy.
“What time are you heading out?” Pete snugged the tie around Patrick’s collar and fastened the last button of his suit. Patrick had never really figured out ties (or dressing up at all) so Pete had stepped in, picking everything out and putting it together for him.
Patrick shrugged. “She said she’d meet me there at nine.” A comfortable moment of silence passed. “I think.”
Truth was, he’d only asked her out because she was popular. Maybe, just maybe, some of that attention would rub off on him. She was way out of his league. Everyone knew it. Hell, even Patrick knew it. Still, it felt like a long shot worth taking being the last year of high school. People said she could be harsh and called it “popular girl syndrome” or whatever but Patrick didn’t care. If people saw him with her, that was enough. He’d look cool. He’d be cool.
Pete stepped back, giving Patrick space in front of the full-length mirror by the front door. He folded his arms while Patrick adjusted his tie, eyes flicking over him. Pete always looked at Patrick like a proud parent, maybe stare for too long but it only ever made Patrick blush and all nervous.
“You sure she’s actually gonna show?” Pete asked, trying to keep it light. He just didn’t want Patrick getting humiliated.
Patrick nodded, “Yeah, she told me yesterday and we’re matching, see?” He pointed at the small handkerchief in his blazer pocket that was pink. That’s all she said to him, “sure” and “I’m wearing pink.” She seemed kind of annoyed saying it but Patrick brushed it off.
Pete sighed and leaned against the wall, knowing the signs of this type of stuff. He’s gone through it many times already so he was pretty good at predicting endings. Patrick was such a stubborn teenager and talking to him felt like walking on eggshells, he might get offended or annoyed easily. He sometimes pretended to agree just to end conversations that they strongly disagreed on. Just to keep Patrick from getting mad. Patrick would blabber about random obsessions he had, such as music and Pete always listening, asking whatever questions Patrick hoped he would ask.
He was a good listener and definitely better than Patrick’s parents, at least. And he was cute. Reallyreallyreally cute. His arms were nearly covered in tattoos, one more right under his tummy that Patrick accidentally saw when he reached for a cereal box, and his hair had that neat side part with slightly odd fringes. There was always a bit of leftover eyeliner on his waterline, and he always had this dorky, endearing, toothy smile when he saw Patrick.
Patrick felt like he could relate to him. They liked the same music, and they even taught each other how to play different instruments. Pete had mentioned he’d been in a few bands with friends, which Patrick thought was the coolest thing ever. In a way, he was someone Patrick could look up to.
“Well, it’s almost nine… need a ride?” Pete patted his sweatpants, glancing around like his keys might magically appear.
“Duh.” Patrick was already at the door, beating Pete outside before he could say anything else.
The air bit at them for a second, sharp and cold, but once the car hummed to life and the heat kicked in, it softened. The drive passed quick, the school was only a few minutes away. When they pulled up to Patrick’s school, Pete parked into a spot he definitely wasn’t supposed to be in, drumming his fingers on the wheel as he nudged Patrick to hurry.
Patrick swung the door open, then paused just as he was about to shut it.
“You look great, Trick. It’s a shame your parents aren’t here to see it.” Pete’s smile was easy, warm in a way that lingered.
Patrick let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling heat rush to his face. “Thanks,” he said, a little quieter than he meant to. But something about it, about Pete, made him feel steadier and less nervous about being most likely stood up.
Pete watched him go for a second longer than necessary before pulling away, the night settling back in around him. By the time he got home, the house felt so empty. He kicked off his shoes, opened a small bag of chips, and set himself up on the couch, scrolling through Netflix until he found a movie he wouldn’t have to think too hard about. He ended up putting the movie he always watched—A Nightmare Before Christmas even though it was totally out of season. It wasn’t anything fun, just something to fill the boring space until Patrick called him to pick him up. But as it started playing, he sank back, letting the warmth and the sound of the TV keep him company.
—————————————
Barely an hour in, the movie was already ending, and Pete was getting emotional, like he always did, no matter how many times he’d seen it. His body gave a small shake just as the front door swing open then slam closed, and Patrick stormed in.
He had a Red Bull in hand, the ones they were selling at prom for only a dollar less than from what the store sold. He swallowed the last sip, set the can onto the coffee table, and collapsed onto the couch beside Pete with a small huff.
Pete didn’t say anything. He just looked at him, taking in the flushed cheeks, the cold-reddened nose, the damp shine in his eyes. Could’ve been the weather… but Pete knew him like the back of his hand. He could piece it together easy enough, Patrick had been stood up. No point in asking and digging the knife in deeper.
Poor kid, he thought.
Pete shifted closer, tossing the blanket over Patrick’s lap. Patrick didn’t hesitate either, leaning in, curling into Pete like he needed the warmth. Pete knew somewhere in the back of his mind, that this probably crossed a line for a babysitter. But the kid seriously just needed someone right now.
Patrick sniffled, pressing his face into Pete’s shirt. It smelled like him, familiar, steady. Safe. He let himself sink into it, wishing he could just stay there, warm and close, forever.
Truth was, Patrick had spent half the night standing outside alone. And when he finally looked in, he saw her, out on the floor, slow dancing with some other guy. He was taller and unfortunately better looking. Wearing purple to match her as well. So much for putting on a color he hated for some stupid prom date.
Pete ran his fingers slowly through Patrick’s soft hair and leaned over to kiss it, “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?” He mumbled against Patrick’s hair.
“I wanted to walk home,” Patrick said firmly.
Pete just nodded, looking through Netflix again to play another movie. It was when he finally put on a movie when he felt Patrick shift his body, tense and taking deeper breaths in. Pete felt Patrick’s lips on his and Pete’s body went stiff, unable to comprehend what was happening. He stayed like this while Patrick made out with Pete’s still lips. Pete didn’t move even when Patrick pulled him closer until he kicked his leg over Pete’s lap—or at least tried to. His reaction was delayed.
“Stop, stop, stop!” Pete pushed him off, knocking him back onto his butt and on the couch. Patrick was breathing heavy, staring at Pete confused. “This is so wrong—you can’t do that.” His arm still stretched out to keep the distance.
Patrick scoffed in disbelief, “What? You were just kissing my head, and we- we were cuddling.” Pete opened his mouth to speak but Patrick stood up, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. “You always stare at me—like you want something to do with me, I don’t get it.”
Pete could see Patrick frown his eyebrows and eyes blink rapidly like he’s about to cry again, so frustrated about everything that happened tonight—he might he crying out of annoyance and anger.
“It’s not like that—I’m just trying to be nice.” Pete glanced around like someone might be watching. “I’m just your babysitter, Trick.”
Patrick groaned “You’re the worst b- friend!” and he stormed upstairs, wiping the tears slipping down his cheek.
“Patrick!” Pete pushed himself up on the edge of the couch trying to get ahold of Patrick’s wrist. “Patrick, come back here!”
The door slammed louder than Patrick had slammed the front one. He let out a long groan and fell back, dragging his hands over his face. He gave him a few minutes. The silence began to ring in his ears, loud and heavy.
—————————————————
After a bit, Pete grabbed the pumpkin squares his mom made the night before, setting a couple on a small plate. He took a steady breath, then jogged upstairs. One soft knock. The door creaked open just enough to peek in. Patrick was sprawled against the headboard, knees up, glued to his phone.
Pete slipped his hand around the doorframe, holding out the plate. “Special delivery for a special guy… is he in here?” he said in a deeper voice.
Patrick’s lips twitched, just a hint of a smile, but it disappeared the second Pete stepped inside. He wasn’t about to let him see it.
“Oh… so he is in here,” Pete murmured, easing the door shut behind him before moving over to the bed. He perched on the edge, and Patrick shifted aside just enough to let him on. “He looks kinda mad, though.”
“Shut up,” Patrick shot back with a playful scoff, reaching to turn his phone back on, only for Pete to stop him.
“Wait—I’m sorry, okay?” Pete set the plate down on the nightstand and edged a little closer. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”
Truth was, he wasn’t even sure if that was the right thing to apologize for, he just knew he needed to say something.
Patrick shook his head, “It’s whatever, I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
There was a moment of silence, Pete resting his hand on Patrick’s knee and giving it a reassurance squeeze, but he bit the inside of his cheek almost as if he was unsure about something. It was nice, both owning up to what they assumed was wrong.
Patrick still had his nice pants on, but his tie was gone now, probably thrown somewhere in his room. Pete looked at Patrick’s button shirt, staring again like he always did. He was strange sometimes, and Patrick began to feel warm again. Patrick didn’t like physical touch but when Pete went in for a hug, or wanted to rest his arm over his shoulder for a photo, he unironically melted into his touch.
Pete’s hand slid down painfully slow down, and onto Patrick’s inner thigh, glancing at his face then at his hand.
“You know how much trouble we’d be in if your parents found out you kissed me?” Pete asked softly. Patrick swallowed and nodded quickly. “It’s best if we don’t say anything.” His voice was different— much more serious like Patrick was in trouble. Patrick knew he wasn’t because Pete always covered for him anyways.
Pete’s hand hesitated before finally groping Patrick cock, giving it a tender squeeze. Patrick rolled his hips, holding his breath as Pete slowly unzipped his pants with one hand. He carefully readjusted to sit in between Patrick’s legs, pushing his pants down just enough to let Patrick’s cock free.
Patrick let out breathy sighs, helping Pete by lifting his hips off the bed. Pete leaned down to kiss him again, harshly but lovingly while his hand moved down to get ahold of his cock. His pace was pretty quick, it was this because he wanted to hear Patrick whimper. Patrick moaned against Pete’s lips, his arms lying by his sides before reaching up to cup Pete’s face.
“Are you gonna fuck me?” He whispered against Pete’s lips.
Pete shook his head and closed his eyes, quickening the pace of his hand. He swiped his palm over the tip, making Patrick’s hips twitch every time.
“Please, Pete” Patrick’s hips lifted off the bed, already feeling knots in his stomach, “Please.” He pleaded, voice getting high pitched. In truth, he was still a virgin, and this was the most sexual (and sexy) thing he’d ever experienced. A hand job from his babysitter had never been on his bucket list, rather a sick fantasy than anything real. Just thinking about it used to twist his stomach, he could almost feel Pete’s hand on his cock when he jacked off until it faded with an orgasm. But now that it was actually happening, his thoughts were clouded, his nerves on edge.
“I can’t,” Pete shook his head and muttered just as low, lips pressing against Patrick’s just before he could complain. “You’re not ready—still so young.” He softly nibbled on Patrick’s bottom lip before kissing him again.
Patrick was like a defenseless deer, caught at his most peaceful moment just before a predator struck. No matter where he went or what he did, misfortune seemed to shadow him. Maybe tonight, Pete was that misfortune and the trouble that had been following him all along without either of them realizing. But tragedy didn’t always have to mean something bad… at least, that’s what Pete convinced himself. And with his target standing right in front of him, he found it impossible to hold back.
Patrick came sooner than he expected—his body trembling as ropes of semen shot onto his shirt.
“S-shit, Pete!” Patrick yelped.
Pete slowed his wrist deliberately, dragging Patrick’s orgasm until his legs trembled. “I’ve barely even started,” he muttered. “You’re so sensitive.”
Patrick was too focused on steadying his breathing to argue. For the first time, it really hit him how young and inexperienced he was compared to Pete. What did Pete mean by “sensitive”? Did it really take more for Pete to feel anything? Well, Pete wasn’t as young, he wasn’t reacting the same way at all. Patrick realized that when he glanced down at Pete’s sweats, and the difference caught him off guard. The whole experience already felt overwhelming enough to drive him insane ten times over. Still, he couldn’t help but take it as a sign that he had a lot to learn.
As the haze of their high began to fade, the reality of what had just happened slowly settled in both them. Pete leaned back onto his butt, while Patrick let his head fall back onto the pillow, eyes fixed on the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling as he tried to retreat into himself. For the first time, the moment felt a little awkward, unfamiliar and heavy. Patrick couldn’t believe it, couldn’t ignore how deafening the silence had become. Pete avoided looking at him, something he’d never done before. Eye contact had never been an issue—until now apparently. He ignored Patrick’s long glances. Weird.
“My parents might be home soon,” Patrick cleared his throat and leaned up on his elbows. “You should probably go… before they see us.” He didn’t mean it harshly, he only wanted a little privacy to change into pajamas and he was sure Pete would understand.
“Right.” Pete quickly got to his feet, careful not to touch anything with his right hand so he could wash it. He glanced at the door, then back at Patrick. “You don’t—uh— you don’t need anything to clean up?
Patrick shook his head quietly, doing his best to act like he wasn’t completely unraveling inside. His face burned, flushed enough that Pete could definitely notice. He always did without Patrick even knowing himself.
“I’ll be downstairs then.” Pete gave that same warm, slightly goofy smile before slipping out, the door clicking shut behind him. “Also, you should probably eat those.” He locked the door for Patrick without him having to ask.
It made Patrick chuckle when he looked at the pumpkin slices that were still on his nightstand. The second he was alone, Patrick broke into a wide grin and fell back onto his pillow. He pressed his plushie to his face, trying to hide it as he let out a soft giggle, half-wondering if Pete could still hear him through the door. This felt very teenager to him.
Pete’s touch still clung to his skin, a lingering heat that refused to fade. He hadn’t pulled away, not even once, from Patrick’s face, staying close as if the moment truly mattered, as if Patrick himself was more than just something fleeting. It was like Pete was trying to tell Patrick to never go away or maybe he was reading too much into it. Patrick couldn’t help but imagine how he could’ve responded differently, anything but lying there so unsure. The memory looped endlessly in his mind, and he shut his eyes to see it more clearly.
Clutching his plushie beneath his chin, he tried to steady his breathing. God— Pete drove him crazy. An embarrassing, overwhelming kind of crazy, where even thinking about him was enough to steal the air right from his lungs.
Before he could get hard again from the thought of Pete, he got up, cleaned himself and changed into something more comfortable.
He stuffed a slice of the dessert into his mouth before jogging downstairs to meet Pete again. Pete was cleaning up the living room from his mini movie night, moving back and forth between the kitchen and living room. Patrick quietly perched on the armrest, peacefully watching him for a moment.
“Hey, Pete…” he started, shifting a little, unsure. “When you said ‘not ready,’ or whatever, what did you mean?”
Pete finished what he was doing and walked over, stopping right in front of him with his arms crossed. “Patrick, you’re a virgin.” He said bluntly.
Patrick let out an awkward smile, a soft chuckle slipping through. “N-no, I’m not,” he said, a little too quickly, slightly offended because he knew it was true.
Pete narrowed his eyes. “Alright.” It sounded like he was ready to drop it, but Patrick obviously wasn’t. Pete then started gathering his stuff from the coffee table, clearly planning to leave once his parents got there, they had to be arriving any second.
“Uh… Anyway, I was just thinking maybe next time you come over, we could, like, do something?” Patrick tilted his head, trying to read Pete’s expression as he bent down to unplug his computer charger.
“Like what?” Pete muttered.
Patrick shrugged. “Y’know… more than what just happened.” He caught the way Pete sucked in a breath through his teeth, unsure, and it immediately made him second guess himself—like maybe he shouldn’t have asked at all and he should say ‘never mind, just ignore everything I just said.’
The door opened then a small thud of the keys getting tossed on a table was heard, and Patrick’s mom walked in. She greeted them with a big smile, pulling Patrick into a side hug and pressing a kiss to his cheek, then started rambling about her day as she set her bags on the kitchen table. But Patrick barely registered any of it, his eyes stayed on Pete, like he was still waiting for an answer. Pete just stood there, tote bag slung over his shoulder, his things packed and ready to go. The eye contact seemed intense to both of them.
“Text me,” Pete said quietly, just loud enough for Patrick to catch it. That apparently was enough to gain a wide smile from him. After a few quick goodbyes, Patrick still couldn’t seem to stop grinning. As Pete slipped his shoes on by the door, he heard his mom start to bring up prom, but Patrick pushed the idea and was trying to make an excuse to go back upstairs.
Pete couldn’t help smiling at how impatient Patrick was. Now all that was left was the waiting… and unfortunately hoping the message would come soon.