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

You Make The Mist In My Head Clear, Although baby, I'm Sure I'm Fainting.

Okay, so apparently Pete did something wrong because now Patrick's avoiding him--every time he tries to say something Patrick fuckin' bolts, it's completely ridiculous to the point where Patrick doesn't even come out of his cubicle for lunch, for fuck's sake.

Pete's honestly not in the mood for this bullshit, but he has no idea how to corner Patrick--he's clearly not the one skilled in that area, unlike Patrick--but even though Patrick's been avoiding Pete, he's also been staring at him.

Brendon laughs at him for even voicing that as if Pete's delusional but he has no idea how creepy it is to be shuffling down the hallway and just notice a shadow looming by the door and oh would you look at that, the shadow has a hat--this proves Pete's whole entire "Patrick's a serial killer" point, seriously.

"Brendon, dude I fucking told you what happened, why is it so hard to believe that I am being stalked?" Pete demands, slamming his fists onto his desk--not very hard though--no need for more dropped clipboards, wait--doesn't Patrick carry a clipboard and Pete's has gone missing.

Pete's mouth falls open into a loud gasp, "That mother fucker stole my clipboard." He hisses, scavenging through his cluttered desk.

"Pete, Jesus Christ." Brendon sighs as Pete claws through papers, "Your clipboard is literally behind you--why would that even matter?"

Pete's original frown deepens into a scowl and he spins around--oh, Brendon's right, fuck. "Um..." Pete sighs, bringing a hand up to his forehead as he shifts his weight--Pete's paranoia hasn't really left him--it's only increased since the whole little incident, and everything is an incident lately, god.

An unpleasant scratchy sensation begins to submerge itself into a layer of Pete's skin and he squirms lightly, twisting his torso while Brendon gains a concerned expression, eyebrows furrowing somewhat.

"Okay, are you really freaking out or..?" Brendon questions, leaning forward over the desk to grasp at Pete's rapidly twitching shoulders.

Pete opens his mouth to respond but only a cracked croak spills out, he clears his throat, shaking his head before he tries again.

"I'm okay--it's not because the whole stalker thing--it's 'cause now I can't even confront him about the whole..." Pete trails off and Brendon nods removing his clutch around Pete's arms to circle around the desk and plop down on the edge of one of the corners.

Pete takes in a deep inhale and crosses his arms over his chest. Brendon tilts his head as a smile curls upon his lips. "I have an idea!" He suddenly declares, springing up and Pete reels back.

"What?" Pete breathes, collapsing against the wall and his eyes close for a brief moment--brief because they snap open when he feels two hands grab at his hips. "What are you doing?" Pete mumbles, trying to shimmy out of the grip.

"Remember the whole "Get him jealous" Idea?" Brendon laughs, a smirk etching its way onto his face as his eyes brighten and Pete just blinks. "I--"

"Quiet!" Brendon hisses, jabbing his index finger in the direction of the corner in which a silhouette is crossing by--with the familiar outline of a certain hat--and is that a clipboard?

"Are we really doing this again?!" Pete groans in a barely audible voice and Brendon nods his head and then the corners of his mouth pull into a wide grin. Pete squints his eyes when he notices the figure freezing, but twitches when he becomes aware of Brendon's hands tightening around him before one wraps around his waist and the other places itself on his lower back.

Pete's about to question Brendon's motives but is interrupted by said problematic friend. "Follow me, alright?" Brendon whispers, leaning in close and hot puffs of breath slide over Pete's cheek making its way down to his neck and it sends shivers down his spine, his toes curl in anticipation.