Give Me A Taste Of What You're Really Like (Peterick)

I've Got A Bad Idea, Guess What It Is Yet?

Pete probably should've took Patrick's little "warning" to heart, but he didn't, he's not scared. Patrick literally looks like he's twelve, gorgeous, but twelve. Pete's accepted the fact that Patrick's attractive, but that's not the point. He's definitely not afraid of him, maybe he should be, nah, Patrick's like three feet tall, he's fine.

At least that's what he thinks, until he's sitting in the break room, enjoying his lunch before moving to stand up and throw his trash away, but unfortunately finds himself stuck to his god damn seat, what?

"What the fuck?" Pete blurts out, squirming in his seat, why the fuck can't he get out of his chair, who the fuck did this? Honestly he shouldn't even ask that question, he knows for sure it was a certain fedora clad figure that he hates with the utmost amount of passion he's ever had for anything or anyone.

"Patrick, you are so fucking dead."

"I thought I was the murderer." A low voice murmurs from a few feet away, Pete jumps in surprise, fuck, if Pete could he'd stand up right this second and march his way over to smash his fist square into Patrick's pretty little mouth.

"Did you fucking put glue on the seats?!" Pete demands, eyes wide and blazing with anger, while his mouth is open in shock, he's completely dumbfounded and was certainly not expecting Patrick the deemed "Nice guy" of the office to pull such an immature prank on him.

"No." Patrick declines, shaking his head, "I glued one seat, precisely yours."

Pete closes his mouth, narrowing his eyes, "I'm surprised a gnome like you could pull something like this." He sneers, making Patrick growl.

"You're only two inches bigger than me!" Patrick squawks, furiously waving his arms.

"Calm down chicken, two inches is a lot, especially in a certain downstairs area." Pete grins, craning his neck to get a good look at Patrick's reaction, the grin wipes from his face, turning into a frown when Patrick doesn't come into view, where did the tree stump go?

He flinches when he feels a hand clutch at the nape of his neck, twisting him not so gently to face a rather pissed off Patrick.

"Well, hi there." Pete drawled , hiding the fact that he's fuming, almost lightheaded from the fury coursing throughout his body.

Pete yelps when the hand on the back of his neck squeezes, "Patrick, let me go before I kick you in the nuts with my unfortunately for you free legs." He sort of has this thing with his neck that he doesn't like anyone knowing about, seriously nobody.

It's embarrassing, okay?

Patrick traces a finger over his collarbone lightly, making him shudder. "Patrick." He warns, throat feeling tight and itchy, "Stop that right now." He feels..funny? Like, what Patrick's doing right now isn't terrible, he's not really sure how he feels about it, but what he does know is that he wants it to stop, right the fuck now.

Patrick meets his gaze, eyes dark and pupils blown, with the slightest red tint growing across his face. By the heat of his cheeks Pete's just gonna assume he's mirroring the complexion and he's never been more grateful for his tan skin to mask his flush.

Patrick bites his bottom lip, switching his gaze from Pete's eyes to his mouth,

Pete follows the action intently, a shiver running up his spine, he's pretty sure he's visibly shaking and great, now he's even more embarrassed.

Pete's eyes widen even more when Patrick begins to lean in, no, no, no. Pete's starting to feel overwhelmed, head turning fuzzy, almost into a blur. He starts to close his eyes reluctantly leaning in at the same pace of a snail, mimicking Patrick.