According to Plan

Disclaimer: I made the whole thing up. And if you found it by googling your own name or that of someone you know personally? For god's sake, hit the damn back button. That's what it's there for.

Notes: Written for GiddyGeek, as part of a [redacted]. Thanks to Airin and Rachel for beta help. And thanks to Dira for the final beta.

The look on Pete's face was motherfucking priceless. Patrick seriously couldn't have planned it better if he'd--well, he did try, so, really, he couldn't have planned it better.

He'd glimpsed Pete's car turning onto his street and ran around the side of his house to add the last few weapons to his arsenal. He was totally prepared for an ambush. It was going to be awesome. Patrick watched Pete get out of the car and grab his duffel bag from the backseat.

Pete never saw it coming.

Patrick laughed as quietly as he could, watching the snow and water drip down Pete's face, Pete's mouth open but silent. Patrick awarded himself extra points for speechlessness.

But, like always when it came to Pete, it didn't take long for him to start talking. He swung around looking for Patrick. "Oh that's it, fucker! Where the fuck are you? You better just give it up now, you know I'll kick your ass!"

Patrick tried to stay quiet, he really did. But he just couldn't keep it in. He was laughing so hard that he fell over. Pete ran over to where he was rolling around in the snow. Patrick quickly reached over to his weapons cache to pick up another snowball. Pete stopped and put his hands up.

"Give me two minutes to get my balls ready. And then it is on, motherfucker! It's so on!"

Patrick wiped the tears from his eyes. "Yeah, ok. But I'm going to win," he said confidently.

Pete rolled his eyes at Patrick's admittedly lame threat, but whatever. Patrick was going to win. He had a strategy. Granted, the strategy really had more to do with making out and gay sex than snowball fights, but that was actually the real point of all this.

Because, seriously, Patrick and Pete had been dancing around this for well over five years. There had been looks and touches and kisses and hugs for ages. Foreplay was awesome, but enough was enough. It was getting to the point where Patrick just wanted to get laid. He really didn't think that sex with his best friend was too much to ask.

"Ready?" Patrick yelled over to Pete.

"Yeah. Prepare to die!" Pete yelled back.

"Hell no! You're going down, Wentz!" Patrick called as he stacked a few snowballs in his arms and ran towards the backyard, where Pete's voice had come from. Patrick was staying out of the open, ducking behind trees and shrubs. He was peeking around a tree near the shed, where he was pretty sure Pete was hiding, when he got smacked in the back. He spun around and saw Pete running away laughing. Patrick pelted a snowball towards Pete. His aim was bad though and it just clipped Pete on the shoulder. Patrick chased after Pete, throwing snowballs as he ran. Pete was turning and throwing as he ran. The ones he was just chucking over his head were going nowhere near Patrick. Patrick chased Pete all the way around the house and into the backyard again.

Pete tripped as he looked back to see where Patrick was. He didn't quite fall, but it slowed him down enough for Patrick to catch up and tackle him. Patrick pushed Pete over onto his back and sat on his hips, pushing his hands over his head and down into the snow.

"Ha!" Patrick got no further in gloating before Pete bucked underneath him and threw Patrick off. Pete scrambled on top of Patrick and held him down as Patrick tried to catch his breath.

"I think by 'ha,' you actually mean, 'Pete, you win! You're the best! I wanna be just like you when I grow up!'" Pete taunted.

"Oh, yes, Pete. You read my mind," Patrick said dryly as he wiggled around under Pete. He managed to get their hips lined up, and then thrust upward suggestively.

Pete sucked in a breath and looked away before closing his eyes. Patrick watched him, but he couldn't quite figure out what was going on in Pete's head. He stayed still for a few moments, eyes on Pete, listening to their breathing and the cars in the distance. When he broke the spell and moved his arms a little, Pete looked back at him and cleared his throat. They stared at each other for a second before Pete pushed himself up off of Patrick, saying, "It's kind of cold out here. You got hot chocolate?"

"Yeah," Patrick said as he took Pete's offered hand and stood up. For the first time all afternoon, he felt cold and wet. His gloved hand lingered in Pete's until he turned and stepped towards the front door. Patrick stood in the foyer and shut the door behind Pete. "Strip," he said as he unzipped his coat and began dropping wet pieces of clothing on the floor.

Pete looked at him, eyebrows raised, but it looked like Pete was feeling a little too awkward to make the requisite joke about getting naked together. No matter, the plan was working. Patrick scooped up his wet things and brought them to the laundry room, clad only in his boxers.

"Patrick?" Pete called after him.


"Can you bring me a towel?" Pete asked.

"Sure." Patrick finished putting his clothes in the dryer and grabbed a clean towel that he'd yet to put away. He walked back out through the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks. "Uh..."

Pete looked down at himself. "What? Dude, you should have known better than to tell me to strip in the front hall. Of course I'm not wearing underwear," he said with a grin. "When do I ever wear underwear?"

"Right," Patrick muttered as he just handed over the towel. He hadn't considered that when thinking up the plan, and he was caught a little off-guard. No one was supposed to be completely naked yet! "You can go take a hot shower if you want. I'm going to go get dressed. Oh, and go put your stuff in the dryer and then turn it on."

"Shower? I think I'll just put on some dry clothes. I got stuff in my bag."

Patrick trudged up the steps, tired in that way that only comes after playing outside like a kid. One of the best parts about playing in the snow was coming in and getting warm again. He put on clean, dry boxers and his favorite sweatpants. He put a hoodie on over a long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of the thickest socks he could find. And then he grabbed the small tube of lube from his nightstand, put it in his pocket, and went downstairs.

Twenty minutes later, Patrick was on the couch next to Pete, two mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of them, and Ferris Bueller going through his opening monologue on tv. Patrick grabbed the blanket he'd brought downstairs and settled it over both of them. That required him to shift just a little bit closer to Pete, so that they would both be completely covered and completely warm. He waited until after Ferris got Sloane out of school before he curled up closer into Pete and put his hand on Pete's thigh. He didn't stop there, though. Oh, no. He kept his hand moving, slowly slipping higher and higher up Pete's thigh. He heard Pete draw in a deep breath. Patrick slowed down just a little, but no way was he stopping this time.

He was sick and tired of being around Pete and hiding boners and pretending that the inevitable sexual innuendos didn't get to him. And he knew, he knew that Pete was just as affected. And he knew that Pete knew that Patrick was attracted to him.

What Patrick didn't know was why Pete was doing nothing about it. Patrick was always shyer when it came to relationships. Pete had pushed him and mocked him about it more than once. Patrick just couldn't figure out what the fuck Pete's deal was. When Pete knew what he wanted, he wasn't usually subtle about asking for it. Which would then lead one to the conclusion that Pete didn't want Patrick. Except Patrick knew. So he was going to make Pete decide. If Pete wasn't interested, he'd have to say it out loud.

Patrick continued rubbing Pete's thigh, keeping his eyes on the tv screen. He felt Pete glance over, but he refused to look back. Pete let out a deep breath and then his legs fell apart, just a little bit, but just enough for Patrick to see it as an invitation. His hand slid further and he lightly ghosted over Pete's half-hard dick.

Pete sucked in a breath and his hips moved up, pushing himself into Patrick's hand. Patrick gave in and began rubbing a little harder. "Patrick?" Pete whispered. Patrick finally looked over. Pete looked confused and turned on and hopeful and scared all at once.

"Shhh," Patrick said and then he leaned closer to Pete and kissed him. Pete was getting a little more excited, but Patrick kept the kiss light and slow to start. He wanted to draw this out. There was also still a vague possibility that Pete would hit him when this was all over, so Patrick was kind of hoping to make it last.

When Pete's hips lifted again, Patrick deepened the kiss. He finally lifted the waistband of Pete's pants and slid his hand down. When Patrick curled his fingers around Pete's dick and ran his thumb over the top, Pete pulled back enough from Patrick's mouth to breathe a quiet, "Fuck, Patrick."

Patrick grinned a little and then pushed his tongue back into Pete's mouth. Pete's pants were kind of in the way, so Patrick started tugging on them until Pete got the hint and stopped kissing long enough to push them down and kick them onto the floor. Patrick reached into his own pocket and pulled out the lube. Pete must not have noticed because he gasped and jumped a little when Patrick touched his dick again. "Sorry. Too cold?" Patrick asked.

Pete shook his head. "Surprised," was all he said before he put his mouth back to Patrick's. Patrick was done with being slow and gentle; he started jerking Pete faster, eager for the noises that Pete made. It didn't take long before Patrick heard that one specific moan that he'd heard way too many times from behind bunk curtains or paper-thin hotel walls or from Pete simply not caring who else was in the house, the one that meant Pete was going to come. He'd pretended for years that he didn't want to hear that sound when he jerked off. Causing that moan was the single hottest thing Patrick had ever done.

Pete still had his mouth on Patrick's. He'd caught Patrick's bottom lip in his teeth, and he bit down so hard when he came that Patrick was pretty sure he'd have a bruised lip later. Pete collapsed against him, breathing loud and harsh. Patrick wiped his hand on the blanket (he had to do laundry anyway) and took Pete's hand in his. Pete squeezed back and then pulled away. He gave Patrick a happy grin before he slid down to the floor in front of Patrick.

Pete tugged on his pants and Patrick lifted up so that Pete could pull them down. Pete had taken the blanket with him, so Patrick shivered a little when the cold air hit him. Pete smiled up at him before leaning forward and taking as much of Patrick's dick as he could. Patrick let out a loud groan. "Ohmyfuckinggod, Pete."

Any coherent thoughts were completely lost when Pete began sucking. Patrick tried to be careful about not thrusting his dick down Pete's throat, but when he lost a little bit of control for a second, Pete moaned happily and put Patrick's hand on his head.

Patrick changed his mind. Fucking Pete's mouth was the single hottest thing he'd ever done. Holy fuck. Patrick had been turned on all day, just thinking about what could happen when he'd invited Pete over. It had just been thrumming in his blood, and it was suddenly all too much. He pulled Pete's hair and pushed him down and forced him to take as much as he possibly could and Patrick came.

When he finally regained awareness, Pete was still kneeling in front of him, his head resting on Patrick's thigh. Patrick ran his fingers through Pete's hair. Pete looked up at him and Patrick smiled. He tried to telepathically tell Pete to get back up on the couch so Patrick could kiss him, but it didn't work out so well, so he grabbed Pete's arm and pulled him up. Pete settled himself so that he was straddling Patrick's lap.

Pete cupped Patrick's face, which--and Patrick would never have even admitted to himself if he hadn't just had his brain sucked out of his dick and down Pete's throat--Patrick found kind of romantic and sweet. And incredibly hot when he could taste himself in Pete's mouth.

Pete hugged Patrick tight and buried his face in Patrick's neck. "I don't want to fuck this up," he whispered by Patrick's ear. "That's why I pretended it wasn't there."

Patrick squeezed him a little tighter. He'd just had to go and fall in love with a dude with massive insecurity issues... "I know. We will both fuck this up, Pete. At one time or another, we will. Because it's me and it's you and we both do that, we both fuck up. But because it's me and it's you, we will fix it."

Pete nodded. He pulled back a little so he could see Patrick's eyes. "I'm glad you're braver than me."

Patrick smiled. "It has nothing to do with bravery. I just have a hell of a lot less patience than you do."

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