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rsadelleTitle: Ringing In
Author: Ruth Sadelle Alderson
Pairing: Patrick/Mixon
Rating: FRAO
Word Count: 630
Disclaimer: Made up.
Summary: Patrick can't help but compare Matt to Pete.
Notes: Originally written for an![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
anon_lovefest prompt. I've been waiting longer than this to claim/repost, but this is a New Year's Eve story, so it seems appropriate to post today. Plus, this way all of my anon_lovefest fic for this year is posted this year.
Patrick would be happy to sit at this table on the edge of the room for as long as he has to stay at this stupid party.
"Dude! Come and dance."
Apparently Patrick's leave-me-alone vibes aren't working on everyone. Matt doesn't even drink, so it's not like he's just drunkenly oblivious.
"No."
His scowl doesn't work on Matt either.
"Come on, Patrick. It's a party." Matt actually takes Patrick's arm and tugs him up out of his chair.
Patrick continues to glare at him.
"Don't tell me you can't dance. You're Pete's musical genius, so I know you've got rhythm."
Patrick scowls harder. "I'm not Pete's anything," he snaps.
Matt's features soften for a moment, and fuck him. He doesn't know anything.
"Okay, whatever." Matt throws his arm around him. "Come dance with me anyway."
Patrick shrugs out from under Matt's arm. "Go dance with Andy."
Something dark passes over Matt's face. "He's with some chick. If he's lucky, they're already fucking in the bathroom."
Oh. Maybe Matt does know something. "One song," Patrick agrees.
Matt grins at him. "That's the spirit."
AK isn't big enough for a real dance floor, but there's a little space in the middle of the room where there are a few people dancing, and that's where Matt takes Patrick.
It's not so bad, dancing with Matt. He's about a million feet taller than Patrick, but he doesn't let that make it awkward the way some people do. One song turns into two, three, four, and then five minutes to midnight with everyone hurrying to get champagne or cider.
Matt kisses him after they toast, a quick, firm press of his lips against Patrick's. It's nice, and Patrick keeps him there for another one.
"Wanna get out of here?" Patrick makes the offer, and Matt nods and finds a flat surface to leave their champagne and cider flutes on.
*
Patrick can't help but compare Matt to Pete. He's taller, of course, but he has some of the same manic energy, although without the dark edge to it. He's more willing to go with whatever Patrick wants to do, too.
Pete, for all his protestations about giving Patrick what he wanted, was always selfish, right up until the end when he'd called two days after Bronx was born and said, "Um. We can't hook up anymore. When it was just Ashlee, it was cool, but now there's Bronx too." Patrick loves the fuck out of that kid, but he can't help but resent the way Pete used him as an excuse to end things.
When Patrick said, "I want to fuck you," to Pete, Pete would always push back, even the times he gave in.
Now, when Patrick says, "I want to fuck you," Matt just turns over and says, "Yeah. You've got condoms, right?"
This was always a struggle, with Pete, but with Matt, he just pushes back with his hips and leans down on his forearms, and says, "Yeah, there," when Patrick gets the right angle.
If Patrick closes his eyes, he can't pretend it's Pete. Right now, that's probably a good thing.
Patrick's not that drunk, and Matt's not drunk at all, and they're both there when they come and sink down into the bed.
Matt turns over while Patrick gets up to throw the condom away, and he holds out his arms when Patrick comes back. Patrick's used to cuddling after, but even that's different because this time he's lying completely on Matt, and Matt smells different, and he's smiling but it's not a smile that's just for Patrick.
"That wasn't half bad," Matt says.
Patrick laughs despite himself. "No, it wasn't." He looks at Matt, his smile and his skin and his hair that's like Pete's only in color. "Thanks."
Matt squeezes him tight. "Any time, man."
Author: Ruth Sadelle Alderson
Pairing: Patrick/Mixon
Rating: FRAO
Word Count: 630
Disclaimer: Made up.
Summary: Patrick can't help but compare Matt to Pete.
Notes: Originally written for an
anon_lovefest prompt. I've been waiting longer than this to claim/repost, but this is a New Year's Eve story, so it seems appropriate to post today. Plus, this way all of my anon_lovefest fic for this year is posted this year.Patrick would be happy to sit at this table on the edge of the room for as long as he has to stay at this stupid party.
"Dude! Come and dance."
Apparently Patrick's leave-me-alone vibes aren't working on everyone. Matt doesn't even drink, so it's not like he's just drunkenly oblivious.
"No."
His scowl doesn't work on Matt either.
"Come on, Patrick. It's a party." Matt actually takes Patrick's arm and tugs him up out of his chair.
Patrick continues to glare at him.
"Don't tell me you can't dance. You're Pete's musical genius, so I know you've got rhythm."
Patrick scowls harder. "I'm not Pete's anything," he snaps.
Matt's features soften for a moment, and fuck him. He doesn't know anything.
"Okay, whatever." Matt throws his arm around him. "Come dance with me anyway."
Patrick shrugs out from under Matt's arm. "Go dance with Andy."
Something dark passes over Matt's face. "He's with some chick. If he's lucky, they're already fucking in the bathroom."
Oh. Maybe Matt does know something. "One song," Patrick agrees.
Matt grins at him. "That's the spirit."
AK isn't big enough for a real dance floor, but there's a little space in the middle of the room where there are a few people dancing, and that's where Matt takes Patrick.
It's not so bad, dancing with Matt. He's about a million feet taller than Patrick, but he doesn't let that make it awkward the way some people do. One song turns into two, three, four, and then five minutes to midnight with everyone hurrying to get champagne or cider.
Matt kisses him after they toast, a quick, firm press of his lips against Patrick's. It's nice, and Patrick keeps him there for another one.
"Wanna get out of here?" Patrick makes the offer, and Matt nods and finds a flat surface to leave their champagne and cider flutes on.
*
Patrick can't help but compare Matt to Pete. He's taller, of course, but he has some of the same manic energy, although without the dark edge to it. He's more willing to go with whatever Patrick wants to do, too.
Pete, for all his protestations about giving Patrick what he wanted, was always selfish, right up until the end when he'd called two days after Bronx was born and said, "Um. We can't hook up anymore. When it was just Ashlee, it was cool, but now there's Bronx too." Patrick loves the fuck out of that kid, but he can't help but resent the way Pete used him as an excuse to end things.
When Patrick said, "I want to fuck you," to Pete, Pete would always push back, even the times he gave in.
Now, when Patrick says, "I want to fuck you," Matt just turns over and says, "Yeah. You've got condoms, right?"
This was always a struggle, with Pete, but with Matt, he just pushes back with his hips and leans down on his forearms, and says, "Yeah, there," when Patrick gets the right angle.
If Patrick closes his eyes, he can't pretend it's Pete. Right now, that's probably a good thing.
Patrick's not that drunk, and Matt's not drunk at all, and they're both there when they come and sink down into the bed.
Matt turns over while Patrick gets up to throw the condom away, and he holds out his arms when Patrick comes back. Patrick's used to cuddling after, but even that's different because this time he's lying completely on Matt, and Matt smells different, and he's smiling but it's not a smile that's just for Patrick.
"That wasn't half bad," Matt says.
Patrick laughs despite himself. "No, it wasn't." He looks at Matt, his smile and his skin and his hair that's like Pete's only in color. "Thanks."
Matt squeezes him tight. "Any time, man."