![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rosiedoes posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
damagereportTitle: The World's Not Waiting (For Joe Trohman to Stop Being a Pussy and Start Going For What He Wants) [7/?]
Summary: AU Timeline - Teenage angst and Crayola Rainbows. Or, Joe saw him first.
Author:alfirin_kirinki
Betas:satsuma_grove, likethepaint, shinko, & shiny_starlight.
Rating: R at absolute max (over all).
Pairing: Joe/Patrick
Words: c.5,800 this chapter.
Author's notes: This fic is written in a slightly AU timeline, where Andy joins the band straight away. One or two formerly key players may also be conspicuous by their absence...
Sorry this chapter has been such a long time coming – I got caught up with Hedonism and needed to have my head in the right place. This chapter is almost 2,000 words longer than normal, though, so I hope that makes up for it.
Disclaimer: Get me a Dolorean and I'll make it real; until then, sadly not true.
Previous Chapters:
Part One: Paperbacks and Sexuality
Part Two: My Heart is On My Sleeve
Part Three: Your Secret's Out
Part Four: No Less Defeated
Part Five: Place Your Hand Between
Part Six: My Badge, My Witness
The World's Not Waiting (For Joe Trohman to Stop Being a Pussy and Start Going For What He Wants)
Part Seven: Knocking Boots in the Back
"Am I more than you bargained for yet?"
2001.
Some time during the night Joe must have managed to fall asleep, because it was 4.37am when he woke again to find Patrick fidgeting and rolling over. Joe was backed against the wall in a way he didn't remember being when he was last awake, and Patrick was settling with his back to Joe's chest, sighing.
"You okay?" he mumbled into the back of Patrick's neck, curling around him a little more and wrapping his arm across Patrick's stomach; the other was tucked under the pillows, which was pretty much the only way of putting it without one of them laying on it.
"Fine. Go back to sleep," Patrick ordered, but he sounded like he was grinning.
Joe found himself humming contentedly as he nuzzled back down against the back of Patrick's neck and did as he was told. This was actually kind of nice.
When he next woke, it was daylight outside, and Patrick had shifted again, back to facing him. There were greenish-blue eyes gazing at him, maybe six inches away across the pillow and a hand tentatively stroking at his ribs.
Sleepily, he smiled and tried to pull him closer, mumbling, "Hi," and fully intending to go back to sleep.
Patrick responded by grinning bashfully and pulling back. "Yeah, bad idea right now. Sorry."
In his drowsy state, it took a couple of moments and a half-hearted fumble to realise what Patrick was referring to. Oh. OH. That really wasn't a bad thing, as far as he was concerned, and he demonstrated this by pulling him closer more insistently and kissing him despite the way Patrick scrunched up his nose and pretended to resist. He wasn't nearly as nervous as he had been the day before. Perhaps it was because he'd been there and done that (all of once) or because he was half-asleep, still, and the subject hadn't been broached so mechanically, but it was only a few minutes before Patrick was murmuring something inaudible into his shoulder with Joe's hand inside his boxers.
Unfortunately, it was at precisely that moment that Joe's mom walked in.
In the space of half a second, Patrick had dived under the covers and curled into a cursing, mortified ball, Joe had sat up and almost shrieked "MOM! GET OUT!" and his mother had shielded her eyes with a hand and exclaimed, "Good God! Joseph!"
She ducked back outside, pulling the door ajar and almost clamouring for something to say, which was bad enough because his mother was never, ever at a loss for words. "Well. Um, sweetie... I just wanted to wake you up and say I'm taking Samuel to Grandma's house if you wanted to come, because Hannah and Joel are staying for the week. I guess you're... I guess you won't be wanting to come."
Joe cringed; he suspected that was something he was never going to be capable of again.
"I'll... We'll have a talk later, honey." There was a pause, and then a painfully cheerful shooting down of his desperate hope that she had at least not seen who was in the bed with him. "Patrick, sweetheart, what would you like for breakfast?"
"Um. I'm... fine..." Patrick's slightly strangled-sounding voice called from beneath the comforter.
"Well, you come on downstairs and we'll see what we have, honey."
She closed the door and retreated.
Joe sat staring blankly at his newly closed bedroom door and waited for Patrick to come out of hiding. He was still there several moments later and when Joe finally pulled the blanket down to look at him, he looked like he might actually cry.
---
Patrick kept trying to wrench his fingers free of Joe's as they walked downstairs and headed for the kitchen, but Joe wasn't going to let him. Sam was playing with the dog in the yard, and Joe kind of had a point to make.
His mother smiled as they walked in, although it was slightly tense; not angry, just unsettled. The way she'd looked when the dog had needed an operation and she'd tried to tell Sam everything was fine. Fortunately for the dog, she was right.
"Good morning," she said cheerily, and stopped in the middle of the kitchen, cereal boxes in hand as she moved between the cupboard and the table. Her eyes were fixed slightly wide as she gazed at their hands.
Joe held on tighter.
"I'm sorry about this morning, I really should try to remember that Joey isn't a little boy any more," she said, breaking into a still unsettled smile. "What would you like to eat?"
Shoving Patrick lightly in the direction of the table, Joe shrugged and sat down. "Can I get a lock on my door?"
"No, honey. If you want waffles I can make those for you."
"But, mom – "
"Joe, we'll talk about this later, okay, sweetie?" she told him, giving him a pointed but not reprimanding look.
"We're actually, like, dating, you know..."
Patrick bit his lip hard enough to hurt.
"Well, I should hope so!" she laughed.
Patrick rested one elbow on the table and hid his face behind his hand. He looked less like he wanted to cry and a lot more like he wanted to slit his wrists with a butter knife.
"Are you going to kind of like, freak out at dinner?" Joe asked her suspiciously, because right now he had a witness to back him up if she promised not to.
At the end of the table, she stopped stirring her coffee and looked at him for several long moments before grasping his chin and forcing him to look at her. "Don't you dare think I'm angry with you."
"Mom."
She let him go and wrapped an arm around him, stroking his hair. "I am not angry with you. Shocked, a little; unprepared, yes. Not angry, sweetheart. I don't care if you and Sam both turn out that way – as long as my baby boys are happy."
"Yeah, mom, whatever..." Joe grunted, trying to push her away, because this was almost as embarrassing as being caught in the first place. Except then she walked around the table to crush Patrick in a hug and gave him a speech about what a nice boy he was.
Joe had genuinely never seen him turn quite that colour before.
"Mom, you're like, embarrassing him to death." If he dumps me because you humiliated him I'm, like, going to tell grandpa I'm a fairy and run off to Canada and leave you to deal with it.
Luckily for everyone, his mother took the rather unavoidable hint and let go, patting Patrick's face fondly.
"No, I have to say, I'm glad you picked this one. Andrew is lovely boy, but too old, and –"
"He's like my brother, mom!"
"Luke... is... not the brightest child you ever brought home, and Peter.... Well. The less said, honestly."
"Mom, seriously!"
Patrick was actually starting to look a little bit smug. Joe thought that might be worse than suicidal.
"Patrick's a nice boy," she said again, patting the top of his head. "But if I catch him doing that to my little boy again before he turns seventeen I'll be chasing him out of my house with a rolling pin."
---
Patrick had long since left to get changed for work when Joe's father came home. His mother didn't leave a beat between, "Hello, darling, how was your day?" and "Joey has some news."
Joe balked at her. "Right now?"
"Now is good, sweetie," she told him with a wry smile.
"Did you finally get a job, you lazy little rat?" his father teased, pinching his ear. He knew what the answer would be. Joe had an allowance and no intention or working for cash while he was being given it for half-heartedly pushing the vacuum around his bedroom and having water fights with Sam in the guise of washing his parents' cars once a month.
"No..." Joe shrugged, focusing on twisting his glass of soda on the table top.
His father folded his hands on the table and looked at him. "Were you arrested?"
"No."
"Oh. Then I guess it must've been those little green men in your room, again..."
Joe rolled his eyes at the childhood joke (he'd once been convinced he was abducted by aliens when he was six). "Not green ones."
"Oh, sorry – I know, I know – they were grey, weren't they, Mulder?"
"Honey, behave," Joe's mom scolded, kissing her husband on top the head and swiping at his shoulder with her oven mitt. "He's serious."
No, you're serious. I just, like, seriously want to get the fuck out.
"Alright, son," he said, deliberately humouring his wife by being over-solemn. "Break the news."
Joe took a deep breath and shrugged. "I'm like... gayorwhatever."
"Really? You seem in a horrible mood."
"DAD!"
His father gave a great chuckle. "I thought he had new news!"
Joe and his mother exchanged bewildered looks.
"What? He's a handsome boy – even if I says so myself. Nearly seventeen years old. Never even talked about one girl. Of course he is. I just figured it was like the voluminous mole on your sister's chin and we just never mentioned it."
Joe folded his arms on the table and buried his head in them. Awesome. Now his father thought he was flaming, and apparently had done for some time.
"Oh, Boy," his father's voice said, as a hand ruffled his hair. "Come on, sit up. Enough of this gloominess. Why am I hearing this today, anyway? Not that I mind – it has to be better than hearing about your aunt's latest health complaint – but we've gone seventeen obvious years without talking about this; what's special about today?"
Joe's mother raised her eyebrows and smiled in a way that said, "You tell him or I will."
Actually, Joe would have been happy with the latter.
"Ikindoflikestarteddatingsomeonebasically."
"Ohhh," his father nodded wisely, accepting his plate with a smile and pat on the hip for his wife. "It's not that strange boy with the teeth, is it? I mean, I try to be a liberal parent but, oy."
"Ew, dad, no!"
"Honey, you've met Patrick, haven't you?"
"Patrick? Patrick... Which one's Patrick?"
"Nice boy; red hair, very polite."
"Red hair...? Oh! The thing in the, um," he gestured vaguely, "in the eyebrow and always in the blue jacket?" He seemed to think about this for a moment. "Patrick? Joe, son, are you sure? He's very... eh." His father picked up a fork and waved it ambiguously.
"He's what?" Joe demanded indignantly. Patrick was pure, thoroughbred awesome, and he wasn't going to hear any different, even from his own dad.
"Weeeell, he's so quiet. And not the best looking boy you know..."
"He's fucking beautiful!"
The moment he said it, before his mother had even smacked him on the back of the head for cursing at his father, Joe winced. You are such a fucking chick. That was like, so totally fucking lame. I'm ashamed of you, dude.
His father was just amused, "Beautiful, is he? Maybe I should pay more attention in future. See what this 'Patrick' is like."
"Maybe you should, honey. They're... at a certain stage..."
"Mom, this is not cool!"
"Oh. Oh, really?" Suddenly, Joe's father sounded slightly less comfortable. "You know, boy, I don't think I can ever forgive you. You put me through the entire birds and the bees for nothing – do know how uncomfortable that is for a parent?" He shuddered comically.
"Not nearly as uncomfortable as walking into a bedroom in the morning to find – "
"MOM!"
"- your eldest child in his birthday suit – "
"I had shorts on!"
"Somebody didn't."
"He did! And a shirt."
His mother looked at him dubiously.
"Mom, he did!"
"Well, either way: I think in future it would be best if he sleeps in the guestroom, when he stays."
"No!"
"Don't argue, son, your mother's right."
"What kind of parents would we be if we just let you get up to goodness knows what under our roof?"
"You let me like, go on tour with five dudes you don't even know, and you didn't get mad when I got wasted, but you won't let my boyfriend sleep in my room?"
He would have felt weird about using the word 'boyfriend' out loud for the first time, and in front of his parents, if he wasn't too busy feeling affronted that they weren't going to trust them to be in the same room any more. Even if he had given them a very valid reason for it.
"Honey, you may be our child, but Patrick is not and what would his mother think if she knew we were letting you sleep in the same bed?"
Joe's eyes widened as he remembered how panicked Patrick would get at the thought of his mother finding out about them. "Mom, you can't tell her. He's totally like, freaked out thinking she'll be mad. Don't tell her."
"Tell her?" she echoed, pinching his face affectionately. "And confess that my boy is up to no good with her child? Oh no. You can drop yourself in that one."
---
Patrick refused to go anywhere near the Trohman house for three weeks afterward. As soon as Joe persuaded him to, his mother pounced.
"Patrick, you'll be here for eleven on Saturday, right, honey?"
Patrick looked at her, and then at Joe and then at her again and mumbled, "Um. I will?"
"Mom, don't."
"Pish. Don't be a child!" she warned playfully. "Saturday. We have a family meal at his grandmother's house every year for the boys' birthdays."
"Oh..."
"And it's all the family, so Richard and I think it would be nice if you came along. It's tradition."
"Tradition?!" Joe repeated, mortified. "How is it tradition? There's only me and Sam and Sam's twelve!"
"I don't know," his mother told him, with a put upon sigh, "anyone would think you didn't want the family to meet Patrick."
"I don't!"
Patrick gave him an offended look.
"Dude. You don't want to meet them, trust me. My grandpa's like, full-on batshit crazy."
"Joseph!"
"What? It's true."
"Explains a lot," Patrick muttered, prodding him in the arm with a little grin. "I guess I'll switch my shift."
---
Joe was actually nervous when Saturday came, not sure whether he was more afraid that Patrick would hate his family and quit while he was ahead, or that his grandparents would figure out why they were being introduced to some kid from his band and freak out (he'd bargained with his mother that she wouldn't make him come out on his birthday in case it all went wrong if he promised he'd do it by himself when he was ready).
He lay in bed for a few minutes after his mom called him, wondering if he should call Patrick and tell him he didn't have to come. He hadn't been able to decide whether he would have been comfortable having Patrick meet his extended family if Patrick had been a girl. It would obviously have been easier, but at least if they figured it out maybe his grandpa would stop elbowing him and winking every time a pretty woman was on TV because that was just plain cringe inducing.
The thing was, Joe thought that he and Patrick were quite serious. They hadn't really done much since Joe's mother walked in on them, mostly out of sheer mortification, but they had actively marked their one-month 'anniversary' by shunning one of Pete's shows and going to the movies to see Planet of the Apes downtown. It was a safe choice, really, because there was no way either of them were going to want to make out in the back row to a bunch of monkey people. They did walk down the lakefront path on the Drive, though, and Joe at least felt quite grown up. This was, after all, the kind of thing adults did on dates on TV. They even kept hold of each other's hands walking past one couple, which may just have been the bravest thing Joe had ever done. He was quite convinced one of them would jump up and yell, "HOMOS!" and try to drown them or something.
Thankfully, they weren't queerbashed and got to spend the time before Patrick had to get home to meet curfew sitting on the lake wall (it was too busy on the beaches) just hanging out and literally enjoying each other's company. They usually spent their time with the others, or actually occupied with writing music or playing computer games, but just sitting around talking (without it being a fight over which was better, Uncle Buck or Home Alone) was surprisingly enjoyable. Joe made a mental note to do this kind of thing more often, if he could orchestrate it without Patrick thinking he was a sappy chick.
Laying in his bed, Joe came to the conclusion that had Patrick been a girl, he would definitely have been proud to show everyone his girlfriend. And what the hell? Why shouldn't he be proud of a dude? Screw it.
He flung back the covers and headed for the shower, actually looking forward to Patrick arriving for the first time in three days.
When Patrick did show up, fifteen minutes early, Joe made a point of kissing him right there in the hall to see if he had the nerve. It was all going fine until they were interrupted by a shrill yell from the top of the stairs and Sam careered past them, wailing, "Mooom!"
Joe did the safest thing, and took Patrick to wait in his bedroom until his brother had been suitably calmed, which also allowed Patrick to hand over his present. Which turned out not to be a single present at all, but a box of smaller things, including tickets to see Interpol, some multicoloured (and suspiciously rainbow-like) picks and a mix CD, amongst other things. Joe was flabbergasted. He was going to have to make a big deal at Chanukah, now.
"I, um," Patrick began, pushing his glasses up his nose and not looking at him as they broke away from a 'thank you' kiss, "I was going to give you something else later."
"Dude – there's more? Are you crazy? This is like, a ton of stuff already, dude... You didn't have to do that."
"I know," Patrick told him lightly, still not lifting his eyes from somewhere around Joe's navel, "it's not exactly going to cost anything, though."
Joe spent the next hour – or at least until they arrived at his grandparents – wondering what the hell else Patrick may have got him. The reason he stopped was that his father, who had spent the morning insisting that Joe was far too old for birthday presents, now, called him back as they approached the door and tossed him what Joe assumed were his car keys. But his father's keys didn't have a keyring with Joe's name on them.
Joe stopped and stared. Then looked at Patrick in shock, as if Patrick was in some way in on this, then back at his father who pointed to the car sitting behind his grandparents' in the driveway. He'd assumed it belonged to his aunt and hadn't really paid it any attention.
He managed to choke out a disbelieving, "Whuh?"
"Happy birthday, honey," his mother said, kissing his cheek and smoothing his hair. "Don't crash this one, please."
Patrick gave him an alarmed look but Joe was far too excited to explain. The twenty minutes until lunch were spent sitting in the vehicle looking for all the secret storage pockets and revving the engine until his grandmother came outside and told them to be quiet. Which gave Joe the opportunity to broach a slightly awkward subject.
"Um. Patrick?"
Patrick looked up from where he was flicking through the manual he had found in the glove compartment and grinned, "Yup?"
"Can we, like, talk for a second?"
The manual slapped shut. "Um, yeah. Yeah, sure."
"This is kind of like, um... kind of awkward, dude..."
Patrick nodded slowly, listening and picking at the corner of the manual in his hands.
"So, basically, my grandparents kind of like don't know about me yet, and – "
"Oh – oh, dude, that's cool, I mean – I won't say anything – " Patrick started, hurriedly, his cheeks reddening. "I get that it's difficult and stuff so I don't – "
"Woah, what?" Joe blinked at him and snatched up his hand. "Dude. Like, totally the opposite – I was just gonna ask if I could, kind of like... tell them about us. Like, while you're here. I just... I don't want you to be embarrassed or whatever, basically, 'cause I know, like... my mom already made you feel pretty bad."
Patrick was just staring at him.
"If, like, if you're not cool with it, dude, I can wait until some time when you're not here, but I just kind of like, wanted to introduce you properly, or something, basically..." Joe was starting to feel like an idiot for asking, because Patrick was still just gazing at him. "Dude?"
"You... I mean, y'know: you seriously want to?" Patrick asked, as if he thought this was all some kind of joke.
"Well, like. Yeah. I mean... my mom and dad know. Sam knows. Our friends know..."
"But grandparents can be kind of, y'know..."
Joe blushed, because it was absolutely true. "Yeah, dude, I know, but I figure, like... if they meet you and stuff they can't not like you, so..."
Patrick didn't seem to know what to say, he just stared down at their hands.
"It's like, it's cool if you don't want me to, dude – I mean, that's why I asked, basically."
"Oh – no, dude, seriously, it's not that at all, y'know? It's just like. Wow. I mean, cool 'wow', not bad 'wow'."
"So... I can?"
Patrick took a deep breath and expelled it sharply, before tugging the hand already in his, so that Joe leaned closer. "Your grandpa doesn't have a gun or anything, right?"
Joe laughed and shook his head. "He might go for you with his cane, though, dude. But he's pretty slow, these days..."
Grinning, Patrick kissed him quickly on the lips and said, "Okay. Okay, let's do this."
---
"Is this your mom's mom or - ?" Andy asked, sipping spilled soda from the rim of his can of Mountain Dew.
"His dad's mom," Patrick informed him with a significant look.
Andy smirked as he watched Joe elbow his boyfriend while he was perched on Patrick's knee and half-balanced on a disconcertingly crooked plastic chair. "I like, swear to God, dude, I thought it was a prank or something. She just put down her fork, and goes to like, this dresser cabinet thing that's been in my dad's family since like... some dinosaur carved it with a rock or something, basically, and comes back with this little box and puts it in front of him – "
"And I'm like, 'Oh, that's nice. A gift. Apparently she likes me.' Basically thinking it's going to be y'know: those sugared almonds you get at weddings and crap..."
"The look on his face, dude!"
"Yeah? And what about the look on yours?"
"So, what was in the box?" Andy asked curiously, strapping down the cover of his snare.
Patrick blushed and glanced at Joe. "Um..." he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the pale blue cardboard box. He just held it for a minute, like he wasn't sure whether he actually even wanted to show Andy what it was; like it was special and private. Then he just abruptly held out the box and let him find out for himself.
Andy looked at Joe for a minute, almost as if he was asking permission to look inside. Joe just shrugged and leaned a little to prop his chin on the top of Patrick's head because today had been a day of firsts and right now he just didn't care if someone might walk in. In fact, he didn't much care if they cared, either.
"Woah," Andy breathed, pulling the chain and carefully crafted Star of David from its casing. "Is this solid gold?"
Joe stared at him dully. "Dude, please. We're Jewish."
Patrick laughed in his ear.
"It's kind of old. She had a brother like, our age... died in the war. Used to belong to him, or something..."
"Well, wow," Andy laughed with a hint of incredulity as he carefully laid it back in its box and refitted the lid. "Is she trying to give you a hint about conversion or something, man?"
"Deuteronomy, 10:19, dude: you shall love the convert."
Patrick looked up at him, eyes wide.
"She like, made me read it while you were talking to grandpa, dude. I don't kind of like have the whole thing memorised," Joe shrugged.
"When they said 'love the convert' I don't think they meant in a physical sense. Plus: hell is going to freeze over before I convert to anything."
Tilting his head, Andy pulled a chair nearer and sat down. He was always interested in this stuff, "I don't want to make you guys feel weird or anything, but... the fact Patrick's a dude doesn't figure with Grandma Trohman?"
"They're batshit crazy, dude. It's like, the parts they want to listen to, they listen to. And the rest, like... it's negotiable."
"They seemed pretty cool about it," Patrick admitted, pocketing the box and wrapping both his arms around Joe's waist.
Joe shrugged with an awkward grin, "Helped that it was some dude they think is like, pretty respectable or something. Fucked if I know why they think that, though."
Laughing affectionately at them, Andy stood up and picked up two of his drum cases. "Did you kids want a ride?"
"Huh?!"
Andy stared at them expectantly before repeating himself. "Do you - ? Oh. No, I meant do you want a ride home. Geez..."
"Dude. I have a fucking car, now!" Joe grinned, standing up and jangling his keys.
"You're not going to total this one, are you?"
"I wish people would stop asking that!"
"Why do people keep asking you that?" Patrick asked suspiciously, and Joe just knew he'd refuse to get in a car with him ever again if he didn't play his cards right. Andy tore any cards he may have had into tiny pieces of confetti before Joe had even thought up a better excuse.
"Because he left the brake off and put his mom's car in the middle of traffic. By itself. A week after he passed his test."
Blushing furiously, Joe thumped Andy on the arm as he grabbed one of the other drums to help carry it outside to the van. "You're an asshole."
"I wouldn't be a proper big brother if I didn't embarrass the hell out of you once in a while," Andy pointed out, kicking him lightly in the ass as they moved toward the door. "But it was being an idiot that caused the trouble – not bad driving. I think you're pretty safe with our little Number One Fan, here, just so long as you're not planning on parking up someplace close to traffic and/or a cliff or something..."
Patrick's only response was to turn a disconcerting shade of red.
An hour later, sitting in a parking lot beside a park on the Winnetka shoreline, Joe was starting to understand why. It was dark, because they were away from the road, facing the thin line of trees above the boatclub and out over the lake; and they had just climbed between the seats to settle in the back.
It seemed pretty much the done thing, given the circumstances, and almost impossible to find a comfortable position to make out in with an eight inch gap between their seats. The first thing they discovered was that even as short as they both were, the back seat of a car was not a comfortable place to be practically horizontal. There were bits of plastic digging in Joe's back and his head was at an awkward angle, plus, there was a deceptively heavy little dude sitting directly on his hips and making it very difficult not to do something incredibly embarrassing. Not that Joe was going to complain; if anything he was re-evaluating Anthony Kiedis' rank in his scale of Hot because Patrick's bangs were tickling his face and his mouth tasted of Coke and peppermint gum and the skin under his t-shirt was hot and warm and far more exciting even than a dude with a sock on his dick climbing out of Joe's underwear drawer.
Joe felt like he should have been embarrassed when Patrick gasped a quiet laugh and shifted against him deliberately when it became clear exactly how exciting Joe was finding this, but he wasn't. Nervous beyond words, because hell, they were in a parking lot less than a mile from Joe's front door and who knew who could drive up and catch them? But not embarrassed.
"Joe?" Patrick whispered, pulling back and undoing the button on Joe's shorts.
"Yeah?"
"I have something to give you, now."
Now? Are you kidding me?! "Can it wait, dude? I mean... we're kind of busy..."
Laughing nervously, Patrick pulled right back and caught the zipper on Joe's pants. "Yeah, exactly... I mean, this isn't going to be gift-wrapped or anything, man..."
"What?"
Patrick looked so self-conscious that Joe reached out and tried to tug him closer, into a comforting cuddle, but Patrick just caught his hand and took a deep breath. "I figured that, y'know... seeing as it's your birthday and stuff, maybe it would be cool if I sort of... um..." He stopped and laughed breathily, pushing the hair out of his eyes.
Joe wasn't an idiot; he had the general gist of where this was headed, but he wasn't entirely sure exactly how much Patrick was offering, he just knew that there wasn't a whole lot he was prepared to do in the back of his car, in a parking lot, when he was 110% sure that with his luck a patrol car was going to drive up and result them both having criminal records. "Um..."
"I just mean, like, y'know: I wanted to do something special, maybe and... Y'know, I guess this was a bad idea, so... yeah."
"Dude, wait – I don't like, get it," Joe told him quickly, sitting up and taking a handful of t-shirt because part of him was sure Patrick was on the verge of running out on him. "What were you gonna do?"
Patrick floundered for a minute, fiddling with the cargo pocket above the knee of Joe's shorts, and then finally blurted, "I was just going to, I dunno... blow you or whatever. But I mean, you're right, dude, this is like – "
"Patrick, I didn't even say anything..."
"No, but you looked petrified, man."
"That's 'cause, like... I am, dude. I just kind of like... I want to do this. Seriously. But I just like... I dunno if now is good."
"Well, can you think of a better place, right now?" Patrick demanded, sounding wounded.
"I don't even mean like that, dude. I mean, it just seems like a pretty big deal, and I kind of... like... I know it's lame and everything, but I just don't think I'm ready to deal with that level of intense..."
The quiet, "Oh," Patrick murmured scared Joe half to death because he was pretty sure this was not what he'd wanted to hear when trying to make a grand gesture like that.
"Dude, I do really like you and everything – I just like, introduced you to my family, so, like... I mean, that proves it, right? And it's not that I don't, like, think you're totally, totally hot or whatever, I just – " know I couldn't do it back "- want to wait a while or something... Is that... I mean, are we okay?"
Patrick nodded violently without saying anything.
"Really?"
"Um... yeah, dude."
"You don't really, like... seem too okay."
"I'm good, seriously," Patrick promised, shifting nearer and kissing him to prove some kind of point. "I was actually, uh..." he chuckled awkwardly, "I was actually pretty much freaking out myself."
Joe stared at him. "Seriously?"
"Yeah..."
"But you were like, still going to...?"
Patrick just shrugged and nodded. "It's your seventeenth birthday, dude. It seemed kind of... I dunno. Just pretty much the coolest thing I could give you, I guess."
"That's like..." Joe shook his head in disbelief. "That's just, like..." he ducked forward and kissed him quickly on the lips, "the most awesome thing ever, dude..."
"Not really..."
"Seriously, dude, it is. I have the best boyfriend ever, or something."
Patrick just laughed and buried his face in Joe's neck, mumbling, "Let's just go home."
"You're still okay to stay over and stuff?" Joe asked uncertainly, because it would be pretty weird having him sleep in a separate room. He'd stayed at Patrick's a couple of times in the past few weeks and his family all had the good courtesy to knock and no one had disturbed them at any point anyway so sleeping in Patrick's bed hadn't been a problem. Or actually that eventful.
"Yeah, sure, and I mean – my mom'd kill me if I crawled in this late."
They stopped at the top of the stairs – the house already dark and quiet – for a quick kiss goodnight before they settled into their respective rooms, but it was just as Joe was going to close his bedroom door that Patrick whispered across the hall, "Joe!"
"What?"
"Your mom knows I'm staying, right?"
Joe blinked. They'd talked about this in the car on the way to his grandparents' – she definitely knew. "Why?"
"Because the bed has no covers or anything."
"Huh?" Joe glanced into his own room, and then did a double take. "Oh. Dude, um..."
Patrick walked over and peered over Joe's shoulder to see the carefully made up camp bed on the floor. He pushed the door open a little more and Joe was almost smacked in the face with a paper luggage tag that seemed to come from nowhere. He grabbed at it and followed the cord up to find it attached to a shiny new bolt.
"Wait – get the light."
"Huh?"
"Get the light."
They both squinted in the sudden brightness and read in silence the short note attached.
This is in exchange for a promise to behave. Love, Mom & Dad.
---
It was probably clear from the fact the camp bed hadn't been slept in by the next morning, that Joe had a different definition of 'behaving' from his parents.
Part Eight
Summary: AU Timeline - Teenage angst and Crayola Rainbows. Or, Joe saw him first.
Author:
alfirin_kirinkiBetas:
satsuma_grove, likethepaint, shinko, & shiny_starlight.Rating: R at absolute max (over all).
Pairing: Joe/Patrick
Words: c.5,800 this chapter.
Author's notes: This fic is written in a slightly AU timeline, where Andy joins the band straight away. One or two formerly key players may also be conspicuous by their absence...
Sorry this chapter has been such a long time coming – I got caught up with Hedonism and needed to have my head in the right place. This chapter is almost 2,000 words longer than normal, though, so I hope that makes up for it.
Disclaimer: Get me a Dolorean and I'll make it real; until then, sadly not true.
Previous Chapters:
Part One: Paperbacks and Sexuality
Part Two: My Heart is On My Sleeve
Part Three: Your Secret's Out
Part Four: No Less Defeated
Part Five: Place Your Hand Between
Part Six: My Badge, My Witness
The World's Not Waiting (For Joe Trohman to Stop Being a Pussy and Start Going For What He Wants)
Part Seven: Knocking Boots in the Back
"Am I more than you bargained for yet?"
2001.
Some time during the night Joe must have managed to fall asleep, because it was 4.37am when he woke again to find Patrick fidgeting and rolling over. Joe was backed against the wall in a way he didn't remember being when he was last awake, and Patrick was settling with his back to Joe's chest, sighing.
"You okay?" he mumbled into the back of Patrick's neck, curling around him a little more and wrapping his arm across Patrick's stomach; the other was tucked under the pillows, which was pretty much the only way of putting it without one of them laying on it.
"Fine. Go back to sleep," Patrick ordered, but he sounded like he was grinning.
Joe found himself humming contentedly as he nuzzled back down against the back of Patrick's neck and did as he was told. This was actually kind of nice.
When he next woke, it was daylight outside, and Patrick had shifted again, back to facing him. There were greenish-blue eyes gazing at him, maybe six inches away across the pillow and a hand tentatively stroking at his ribs.
Sleepily, he smiled and tried to pull him closer, mumbling, "Hi," and fully intending to go back to sleep.
Patrick responded by grinning bashfully and pulling back. "Yeah, bad idea right now. Sorry."
In his drowsy state, it took a couple of moments and a half-hearted fumble to realise what Patrick was referring to. Oh. OH. That really wasn't a bad thing, as far as he was concerned, and he demonstrated this by pulling him closer more insistently and kissing him despite the way Patrick scrunched up his nose and pretended to resist. He wasn't nearly as nervous as he had been the day before. Perhaps it was because he'd been there and done that (all of once) or because he was half-asleep, still, and the subject hadn't been broached so mechanically, but it was only a few minutes before Patrick was murmuring something inaudible into his shoulder with Joe's hand inside his boxers.
Unfortunately, it was at precisely that moment that Joe's mom walked in.
In the space of half a second, Patrick had dived under the covers and curled into a cursing, mortified ball, Joe had sat up and almost shrieked "MOM! GET OUT!" and his mother had shielded her eyes with a hand and exclaimed, "Good God! Joseph!"
She ducked back outside, pulling the door ajar and almost clamouring for something to say, which was bad enough because his mother was never, ever at a loss for words. "Well. Um, sweetie... I just wanted to wake you up and say I'm taking Samuel to Grandma's house if you wanted to come, because Hannah and Joel are staying for the week. I guess you're... I guess you won't be wanting to come."
Joe cringed; he suspected that was something he was never going to be capable of again.
"I'll... We'll have a talk later, honey." There was a pause, and then a painfully cheerful shooting down of his desperate hope that she had at least not seen who was in the bed with him. "Patrick, sweetheart, what would you like for breakfast?"
"Um. I'm... fine..." Patrick's slightly strangled-sounding voice called from beneath the comforter.
"Well, you come on downstairs and we'll see what we have, honey."
She closed the door and retreated.
Joe sat staring blankly at his newly closed bedroom door and waited for Patrick to come out of hiding. He was still there several moments later and when Joe finally pulled the blanket down to look at him, he looked like he might actually cry.
---
Patrick kept trying to wrench his fingers free of Joe's as they walked downstairs and headed for the kitchen, but Joe wasn't going to let him. Sam was playing with the dog in the yard, and Joe kind of had a point to make.
His mother smiled as they walked in, although it was slightly tense; not angry, just unsettled. The way she'd looked when the dog had needed an operation and she'd tried to tell Sam everything was fine. Fortunately for the dog, she was right.
"Good morning," she said cheerily, and stopped in the middle of the kitchen, cereal boxes in hand as she moved between the cupboard and the table. Her eyes were fixed slightly wide as she gazed at their hands.
Joe held on tighter.
"I'm sorry about this morning, I really should try to remember that Joey isn't a little boy any more," she said, breaking into a still unsettled smile. "What would you like to eat?"
Shoving Patrick lightly in the direction of the table, Joe shrugged and sat down. "Can I get a lock on my door?"
"No, honey. If you want waffles I can make those for you."
"But, mom – "
"Joe, we'll talk about this later, okay, sweetie?" she told him, giving him a pointed but not reprimanding look.
"We're actually, like, dating, you know..."
Patrick bit his lip hard enough to hurt.
"Well, I should hope so!" she laughed.
Patrick rested one elbow on the table and hid his face behind his hand. He looked less like he wanted to cry and a lot more like he wanted to slit his wrists with a butter knife.
"Are you going to kind of like, freak out at dinner?" Joe asked her suspiciously, because right now he had a witness to back him up if she promised not to.
At the end of the table, she stopped stirring her coffee and looked at him for several long moments before grasping his chin and forcing him to look at her. "Don't you dare think I'm angry with you."
"Mom."
She let him go and wrapped an arm around him, stroking his hair. "I am not angry with you. Shocked, a little; unprepared, yes. Not angry, sweetheart. I don't care if you and Sam both turn out that way – as long as my baby boys are happy."
"Yeah, mom, whatever..." Joe grunted, trying to push her away, because this was almost as embarrassing as being caught in the first place. Except then she walked around the table to crush Patrick in a hug and gave him a speech about what a nice boy he was.
Joe had genuinely never seen him turn quite that colour before.
"Mom, you're like, embarrassing him to death." If he dumps me because you humiliated him I'm, like, going to tell grandpa I'm a fairy and run off to Canada and leave you to deal with it.
Luckily for everyone, his mother took the rather unavoidable hint and let go, patting Patrick's face fondly.
"No, I have to say, I'm glad you picked this one. Andrew is lovely boy, but too old, and –"
"He's like my brother, mom!"
"Luke... is... not the brightest child you ever brought home, and Peter.... Well. The less said, honestly."
"Mom, seriously!"
Patrick was actually starting to look a little bit smug. Joe thought that might be worse than suicidal.
"Patrick's a nice boy," she said again, patting the top of his head. "But if I catch him doing that to my little boy again before he turns seventeen I'll be chasing him out of my house with a rolling pin."
---
Patrick had long since left to get changed for work when Joe's father came home. His mother didn't leave a beat between, "Hello, darling, how was your day?" and "Joey has some news."
Joe balked at her. "Right now?"
"Now is good, sweetie," she told him with a wry smile.
"Did you finally get a job, you lazy little rat?" his father teased, pinching his ear. He knew what the answer would be. Joe had an allowance and no intention or working for cash while he was being given it for half-heartedly pushing the vacuum around his bedroom and having water fights with Sam in the guise of washing his parents' cars once a month.
"No..." Joe shrugged, focusing on twisting his glass of soda on the table top.
His father folded his hands on the table and looked at him. "Were you arrested?"
"No."
"Oh. Then I guess it must've been those little green men in your room, again..."
Joe rolled his eyes at the childhood joke (he'd once been convinced he was abducted by aliens when he was six). "Not green ones."
"Oh, sorry – I know, I know – they were grey, weren't they, Mulder?"
"Honey, behave," Joe's mom scolded, kissing her husband on top the head and swiping at his shoulder with her oven mitt. "He's serious."
No, you're serious. I just, like, seriously want to get the fuck out.
"Alright, son," he said, deliberately humouring his wife by being over-solemn. "Break the news."
Joe took a deep breath and shrugged. "I'm like... gayorwhatever."
"Really? You seem in a horrible mood."
"DAD!"
His father gave a great chuckle. "I thought he had new news!"
Joe and his mother exchanged bewildered looks.
"What? He's a handsome boy – even if I says so myself. Nearly seventeen years old. Never even talked about one girl. Of course he is. I just figured it was like the voluminous mole on your sister's chin and we just never mentioned it."
Joe folded his arms on the table and buried his head in them. Awesome. Now his father thought he was flaming, and apparently had done for some time.
"Oh, Boy," his father's voice said, as a hand ruffled his hair. "Come on, sit up. Enough of this gloominess. Why am I hearing this today, anyway? Not that I mind – it has to be better than hearing about your aunt's latest health complaint – but we've gone seventeen obvious years without talking about this; what's special about today?"
Joe's mother raised her eyebrows and smiled in a way that said, "You tell him or I will."
Actually, Joe would have been happy with the latter.
"Ikindoflikestarteddatingsomeonebasically."
"Ohhh," his father nodded wisely, accepting his plate with a smile and pat on the hip for his wife. "It's not that strange boy with the teeth, is it? I mean, I try to be a liberal parent but, oy."
"Ew, dad, no!"
"Honey, you've met Patrick, haven't you?"
"Patrick? Patrick... Which one's Patrick?"
"Nice boy; red hair, very polite."
"Red hair...? Oh! The thing in the, um," he gestured vaguely, "in the eyebrow and always in the blue jacket?" He seemed to think about this for a moment. "Patrick? Joe, son, are you sure? He's very... eh." His father picked up a fork and waved it ambiguously.
"He's what?" Joe demanded indignantly. Patrick was pure, thoroughbred awesome, and he wasn't going to hear any different, even from his own dad.
"Weeeell, he's so quiet. And not the best looking boy you know..."
"He's fucking beautiful!"
The moment he said it, before his mother had even smacked him on the back of the head for cursing at his father, Joe winced. You are such a fucking chick. That was like, so totally fucking lame. I'm ashamed of you, dude.
His father was just amused, "Beautiful, is he? Maybe I should pay more attention in future. See what this 'Patrick' is like."
"Maybe you should, honey. They're... at a certain stage..."
"Mom, this is not cool!"
"Oh. Oh, really?" Suddenly, Joe's father sounded slightly less comfortable. "You know, boy, I don't think I can ever forgive you. You put me through the entire birds and the bees for nothing – do know how uncomfortable that is for a parent?" He shuddered comically.
"Not nearly as uncomfortable as walking into a bedroom in the morning to find – "
"MOM!"
"- your eldest child in his birthday suit – "
"I had shorts on!"
"Somebody didn't."
"He did! And a shirt."
His mother looked at him dubiously.
"Mom, he did!"
"Well, either way: I think in future it would be best if he sleeps in the guestroom, when he stays."
"No!"
"Don't argue, son, your mother's right."
"What kind of parents would we be if we just let you get up to goodness knows what under our roof?"
"You let me like, go on tour with five dudes you don't even know, and you didn't get mad when I got wasted, but you won't let my boyfriend sleep in my room?"
He would have felt weird about using the word 'boyfriend' out loud for the first time, and in front of his parents, if he wasn't too busy feeling affronted that they weren't going to trust them to be in the same room any more. Even if he had given them a very valid reason for it.
"Honey, you may be our child, but Patrick is not and what would his mother think if she knew we were letting you sleep in the same bed?"
Joe's eyes widened as he remembered how panicked Patrick would get at the thought of his mother finding out about them. "Mom, you can't tell her. He's totally like, freaked out thinking she'll be mad. Don't tell her."
"Tell her?" she echoed, pinching his face affectionately. "And confess that my boy is up to no good with her child? Oh no. You can drop yourself in that one."
---
Patrick refused to go anywhere near the Trohman house for three weeks afterward. As soon as Joe persuaded him to, his mother pounced.
"Patrick, you'll be here for eleven on Saturday, right, honey?"
Patrick looked at her, and then at Joe and then at her again and mumbled, "Um. I will?"
"Mom, don't."
"Pish. Don't be a child!" she warned playfully. "Saturday. We have a family meal at his grandmother's house every year for the boys' birthdays."
"Oh..."
"And it's all the family, so Richard and I think it would be nice if you came along. It's tradition."
"Tradition?!" Joe repeated, mortified. "How is it tradition? There's only me and Sam and Sam's twelve!"
"I don't know," his mother told him, with a put upon sigh, "anyone would think you didn't want the family to meet Patrick."
"I don't!"
Patrick gave him an offended look.
"Dude. You don't want to meet them, trust me. My grandpa's like, full-on batshit crazy."
"Joseph!"
"What? It's true."
"Explains a lot," Patrick muttered, prodding him in the arm with a little grin. "I guess I'll switch my shift."
---
Joe was actually nervous when Saturday came, not sure whether he was more afraid that Patrick would hate his family and quit while he was ahead, or that his grandparents would figure out why they were being introduced to some kid from his band and freak out (he'd bargained with his mother that she wouldn't make him come out on his birthday in case it all went wrong if he promised he'd do it by himself when he was ready).
He lay in bed for a few minutes after his mom called him, wondering if he should call Patrick and tell him he didn't have to come. He hadn't been able to decide whether he would have been comfortable having Patrick meet his extended family if Patrick had been a girl. It would obviously have been easier, but at least if they figured it out maybe his grandpa would stop elbowing him and winking every time a pretty woman was on TV because that was just plain cringe inducing.
The thing was, Joe thought that he and Patrick were quite serious. They hadn't really done much since Joe's mother walked in on them, mostly out of sheer mortification, but they had actively marked their one-month 'anniversary' by shunning one of Pete's shows and going to the movies to see Planet of the Apes downtown. It was a safe choice, really, because there was no way either of them were going to want to make out in the back row to a bunch of monkey people. They did walk down the lakefront path on the Drive, though, and Joe at least felt quite grown up. This was, after all, the kind of thing adults did on dates on TV. They even kept hold of each other's hands walking past one couple, which may just have been the bravest thing Joe had ever done. He was quite convinced one of them would jump up and yell, "HOMOS!" and try to drown them or something.
Thankfully, they weren't queerbashed and got to spend the time before Patrick had to get home to meet curfew sitting on the lake wall (it was too busy on the beaches) just hanging out and literally enjoying each other's company. They usually spent their time with the others, or actually occupied with writing music or playing computer games, but just sitting around talking (without it being a fight over which was better, Uncle Buck or Home Alone) was surprisingly enjoyable. Joe made a mental note to do this kind of thing more often, if he could orchestrate it without Patrick thinking he was a sappy chick.
Laying in his bed, Joe came to the conclusion that had Patrick been a girl, he would definitely have been proud to show everyone his girlfriend. And what the hell? Why shouldn't he be proud of a dude? Screw it.
He flung back the covers and headed for the shower, actually looking forward to Patrick arriving for the first time in three days.
When Patrick did show up, fifteen minutes early, Joe made a point of kissing him right there in the hall to see if he had the nerve. It was all going fine until they were interrupted by a shrill yell from the top of the stairs and Sam careered past them, wailing, "Mooom!"
Joe did the safest thing, and took Patrick to wait in his bedroom until his brother had been suitably calmed, which also allowed Patrick to hand over his present. Which turned out not to be a single present at all, but a box of smaller things, including tickets to see Interpol, some multicoloured (and suspiciously rainbow-like) picks and a mix CD, amongst other things. Joe was flabbergasted. He was going to have to make a big deal at Chanukah, now.
"I, um," Patrick began, pushing his glasses up his nose and not looking at him as they broke away from a 'thank you' kiss, "I was going to give you something else later."
"Dude – there's more? Are you crazy? This is like, a ton of stuff already, dude... You didn't have to do that."
"I know," Patrick told him lightly, still not lifting his eyes from somewhere around Joe's navel, "it's not exactly going to cost anything, though."
Joe spent the next hour – or at least until they arrived at his grandparents – wondering what the hell else Patrick may have got him. The reason he stopped was that his father, who had spent the morning insisting that Joe was far too old for birthday presents, now, called him back as they approached the door and tossed him what Joe assumed were his car keys. But his father's keys didn't have a keyring with Joe's name on them.
Joe stopped and stared. Then looked at Patrick in shock, as if Patrick was in some way in on this, then back at his father who pointed to the car sitting behind his grandparents' in the driveway. He'd assumed it belonged to his aunt and hadn't really paid it any attention.
He managed to choke out a disbelieving, "Whuh?"
"Happy birthday, honey," his mother said, kissing his cheek and smoothing his hair. "Don't crash this one, please."
Patrick gave him an alarmed look but Joe was far too excited to explain. The twenty minutes until lunch were spent sitting in the vehicle looking for all the secret storage pockets and revving the engine until his grandmother came outside and told them to be quiet. Which gave Joe the opportunity to broach a slightly awkward subject.
"Um. Patrick?"
Patrick looked up from where he was flicking through the manual he had found in the glove compartment and grinned, "Yup?"
"Can we, like, talk for a second?"
The manual slapped shut. "Um, yeah. Yeah, sure."
"This is kind of like, um... kind of awkward, dude..."
Patrick nodded slowly, listening and picking at the corner of the manual in his hands.
"So, basically, my grandparents kind of like don't know about me yet, and – "
"Oh – oh, dude, that's cool, I mean – I won't say anything – " Patrick started, hurriedly, his cheeks reddening. "I get that it's difficult and stuff so I don't – "
"Woah, what?" Joe blinked at him and snatched up his hand. "Dude. Like, totally the opposite – I was just gonna ask if I could, kind of like... tell them about us. Like, while you're here. I just... I don't want you to be embarrassed or whatever, basically, 'cause I know, like... my mom already made you feel pretty bad."
Patrick was just staring at him.
"If, like, if you're not cool with it, dude, I can wait until some time when you're not here, but I just kind of like, wanted to introduce you properly, or something, basically..." Joe was starting to feel like an idiot for asking, because Patrick was still just gazing at him. "Dude?"
"You... I mean, y'know: you seriously want to?" Patrick asked, as if he thought this was all some kind of joke.
"Well, like. Yeah. I mean... my mom and dad know. Sam knows. Our friends know..."
"But grandparents can be kind of, y'know..."
Joe blushed, because it was absolutely true. "Yeah, dude, I know, but I figure, like... if they meet you and stuff they can't not like you, so..."
Patrick didn't seem to know what to say, he just stared down at their hands.
"It's like, it's cool if you don't want me to, dude – I mean, that's why I asked, basically."
"Oh – no, dude, seriously, it's not that at all, y'know? It's just like. Wow. I mean, cool 'wow', not bad 'wow'."
"So... I can?"
Patrick took a deep breath and expelled it sharply, before tugging the hand already in his, so that Joe leaned closer. "Your grandpa doesn't have a gun or anything, right?"
Joe laughed and shook his head. "He might go for you with his cane, though, dude. But he's pretty slow, these days..."
Grinning, Patrick kissed him quickly on the lips and said, "Okay. Okay, let's do this."
---
"Is this your mom's mom or - ?" Andy asked, sipping spilled soda from the rim of his can of Mountain Dew.
"His dad's mom," Patrick informed him with a significant look.
Andy smirked as he watched Joe elbow his boyfriend while he was perched on Patrick's knee and half-balanced on a disconcertingly crooked plastic chair. "I like, swear to God, dude, I thought it was a prank or something. She just put down her fork, and goes to like, this dresser cabinet thing that's been in my dad's family since like... some dinosaur carved it with a rock or something, basically, and comes back with this little box and puts it in front of him – "
"And I'm like, 'Oh, that's nice. A gift. Apparently she likes me.' Basically thinking it's going to be y'know: those sugared almonds you get at weddings and crap..."
"The look on his face, dude!"
"Yeah? And what about the look on yours?"
"So, what was in the box?" Andy asked curiously, strapping down the cover of his snare.
Patrick blushed and glanced at Joe. "Um..." he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the pale blue cardboard box. He just held it for a minute, like he wasn't sure whether he actually even wanted to show Andy what it was; like it was special and private. Then he just abruptly held out the box and let him find out for himself.
Andy looked at Joe for a minute, almost as if he was asking permission to look inside. Joe just shrugged and leaned a little to prop his chin on the top of Patrick's head because today had been a day of firsts and right now he just didn't care if someone might walk in. In fact, he didn't much care if they cared, either.
"Woah," Andy breathed, pulling the chain and carefully crafted Star of David from its casing. "Is this solid gold?"
Joe stared at him dully. "Dude, please. We're Jewish."
Patrick laughed in his ear.
"It's kind of old. She had a brother like, our age... died in the war. Used to belong to him, or something..."
"Well, wow," Andy laughed with a hint of incredulity as he carefully laid it back in its box and refitted the lid. "Is she trying to give you a hint about conversion or something, man?"
"Deuteronomy, 10:19, dude: you shall love the convert."
Patrick looked up at him, eyes wide.
"She like, made me read it while you were talking to grandpa, dude. I don't kind of like have the whole thing memorised," Joe shrugged.
"When they said 'love the convert' I don't think they meant in a physical sense. Plus: hell is going to freeze over before I convert to anything."
Tilting his head, Andy pulled a chair nearer and sat down. He was always interested in this stuff, "I don't want to make you guys feel weird or anything, but... the fact Patrick's a dude doesn't figure with Grandma Trohman?"
"They're batshit crazy, dude. It's like, the parts they want to listen to, they listen to. And the rest, like... it's negotiable."
"They seemed pretty cool about it," Patrick admitted, pocketing the box and wrapping both his arms around Joe's waist.
Joe shrugged with an awkward grin, "Helped that it was some dude they think is like, pretty respectable or something. Fucked if I know why they think that, though."
Laughing affectionately at them, Andy stood up and picked up two of his drum cases. "Did you kids want a ride?"
"Huh?!"
Andy stared at them expectantly before repeating himself. "Do you - ? Oh. No, I meant do you want a ride home. Geez..."
"Dude. I have a fucking car, now!" Joe grinned, standing up and jangling his keys.
"You're not going to total this one, are you?"
"I wish people would stop asking that!"
"Why do people keep asking you that?" Patrick asked suspiciously, and Joe just knew he'd refuse to get in a car with him ever again if he didn't play his cards right. Andy tore any cards he may have had into tiny pieces of confetti before Joe had even thought up a better excuse.
"Because he left the brake off and put his mom's car in the middle of traffic. By itself. A week after he passed his test."
Blushing furiously, Joe thumped Andy on the arm as he grabbed one of the other drums to help carry it outside to the van. "You're an asshole."
"I wouldn't be a proper big brother if I didn't embarrass the hell out of you once in a while," Andy pointed out, kicking him lightly in the ass as they moved toward the door. "But it was being an idiot that caused the trouble – not bad driving. I think you're pretty safe with our little Number One Fan, here, just so long as you're not planning on parking up someplace close to traffic and/or a cliff or something..."
Patrick's only response was to turn a disconcerting shade of red.
An hour later, sitting in a parking lot beside a park on the Winnetka shoreline, Joe was starting to understand why. It was dark, because they were away from the road, facing the thin line of trees above the boatclub and out over the lake; and they had just climbed between the seats to settle in the back.
It seemed pretty much the done thing, given the circumstances, and almost impossible to find a comfortable position to make out in with an eight inch gap between their seats. The first thing they discovered was that even as short as they both were, the back seat of a car was not a comfortable place to be practically horizontal. There were bits of plastic digging in Joe's back and his head was at an awkward angle, plus, there was a deceptively heavy little dude sitting directly on his hips and making it very difficult not to do something incredibly embarrassing. Not that Joe was going to complain; if anything he was re-evaluating Anthony Kiedis' rank in his scale of Hot because Patrick's bangs were tickling his face and his mouth tasted of Coke and peppermint gum and the skin under his t-shirt was hot and warm and far more exciting even than a dude with a sock on his dick climbing out of Joe's underwear drawer.
Joe felt like he should have been embarrassed when Patrick gasped a quiet laugh and shifted against him deliberately when it became clear exactly how exciting Joe was finding this, but he wasn't. Nervous beyond words, because hell, they were in a parking lot less than a mile from Joe's front door and who knew who could drive up and catch them? But not embarrassed.
"Joe?" Patrick whispered, pulling back and undoing the button on Joe's shorts.
"Yeah?"
"I have something to give you, now."
Now? Are you kidding me?! "Can it wait, dude? I mean... we're kind of busy..."
Laughing nervously, Patrick pulled right back and caught the zipper on Joe's pants. "Yeah, exactly... I mean, this isn't going to be gift-wrapped or anything, man..."
"What?"
Patrick looked so self-conscious that Joe reached out and tried to tug him closer, into a comforting cuddle, but Patrick just caught his hand and took a deep breath. "I figured that, y'know... seeing as it's your birthday and stuff, maybe it would be cool if I sort of... um..." He stopped and laughed breathily, pushing the hair out of his eyes.
Joe wasn't an idiot; he had the general gist of where this was headed, but he wasn't entirely sure exactly how much Patrick was offering, he just knew that there wasn't a whole lot he was prepared to do in the back of his car, in a parking lot, when he was 110% sure that with his luck a patrol car was going to drive up and result them both having criminal records. "Um..."
"I just mean, like, y'know: I wanted to do something special, maybe and... Y'know, I guess this was a bad idea, so... yeah."
"Dude, wait – I don't like, get it," Joe told him quickly, sitting up and taking a handful of t-shirt because part of him was sure Patrick was on the verge of running out on him. "What were you gonna do?"
Patrick floundered for a minute, fiddling with the cargo pocket above the knee of Joe's shorts, and then finally blurted, "I was just going to, I dunno... blow you or whatever. But I mean, you're right, dude, this is like – "
"Patrick, I didn't even say anything..."
"No, but you looked petrified, man."
"That's 'cause, like... I am, dude. I just kind of like... I want to do this. Seriously. But I just like... I dunno if now is good."
"Well, can you think of a better place, right now?" Patrick demanded, sounding wounded.
"I don't even mean like that, dude. I mean, it just seems like a pretty big deal, and I kind of... like... I know it's lame and everything, but I just don't think I'm ready to deal with that level of intense..."
The quiet, "Oh," Patrick murmured scared Joe half to death because he was pretty sure this was not what he'd wanted to hear when trying to make a grand gesture like that.
"Dude, I do really like you and everything – I just like, introduced you to my family, so, like... I mean, that proves it, right? And it's not that I don't, like, think you're totally, totally hot or whatever, I just – " know I couldn't do it back "- want to wait a while or something... Is that... I mean, are we okay?"
Patrick nodded violently without saying anything.
"Really?"
"Um... yeah, dude."
"You don't really, like... seem too okay."
"I'm good, seriously," Patrick promised, shifting nearer and kissing him to prove some kind of point. "I was actually, uh..." he chuckled awkwardly, "I was actually pretty much freaking out myself."
Joe stared at him. "Seriously?"
"Yeah..."
"But you were like, still going to...?"
Patrick just shrugged and nodded. "It's your seventeenth birthday, dude. It seemed kind of... I dunno. Just pretty much the coolest thing I could give you, I guess."
"That's like..." Joe shook his head in disbelief. "That's just, like..." he ducked forward and kissed him quickly on the lips, "the most awesome thing ever, dude..."
"Not really..."
"Seriously, dude, it is. I have the best boyfriend ever, or something."
Patrick just laughed and buried his face in Joe's neck, mumbling, "Let's just go home."
"You're still okay to stay over and stuff?" Joe asked uncertainly, because it would be pretty weird having him sleep in a separate room. He'd stayed at Patrick's a couple of times in the past few weeks and his family all had the good courtesy to knock and no one had disturbed them at any point anyway so sleeping in Patrick's bed hadn't been a problem. Or actually that eventful.
"Yeah, sure, and I mean – my mom'd kill me if I crawled in this late."
They stopped at the top of the stairs – the house already dark and quiet – for a quick kiss goodnight before they settled into their respective rooms, but it was just as Joe was going to close his bedroom door that Patrick whispered across the hall, "Joe!"
"What?"
"Your mom knows I'm staying, right?"
Joe blinked. They'd talked about this in the car on the way to his grandparents' – she definitely knew. "Why?"
"Because the bed has no covers or anything."
"Huh?" Joe glanced into his own room, and then did a double take. "Oh. Dude, um..."
Patrick walked over and peered over Joe's shoulder to see the carefully made up camp bed on the floor. He pushed the door open a little more and Joe was almost smacked in the face with a paper luggage tag that seemed to come from nowhere. He grabbed at it and followed the cord up to find it attached to a shiny new bolt.
"Wait – get the light."
"Huh?"
"Get the light."
They both squinted in the sudden brightness and read in silence the short note attached.
This is in exchange for a promise to behave. Love, Mom & Dad.
---
It was probably clear from the fact the camp bed hadn't been slept in by the next morning, that Joe had a different definition of 'behaving' from his parents.
Part Eight