Back To Earth (Peterick MPREG) ➳ Book 2

One

"Your highness," Pete Wentz's personal servant Josh said as he entered the room. "Your parents would like a word with you."

Pete turned his attention away from the window and faced the man at the door. He noted the new colour to Josh's hair: red. His friend Tyler must have suggested it.

"I'll be their shortly."

Josh bowed and stepped out, closing the door silently behind him.

Lingering for a moment longer, Pete let his eyes wander over the screen embedded in the table. The picture that was visible appeared to be that of a sleeping person, but Pete could see the slow rise and fall of the man's chest from underneath the blanket. He could see the lines on the echocardiogram moving in perfect rhythm. Pete smiled faintly and hurried on with his day.

*

The first sensation Patrick was aware of was the slow tingling phenomenon in his fingers and toes. It was almost the sharp pain that came after sitting on a leg or laying on an arm for too long. The feeling spread up his limbs and torso all the way to his head. After weeks of being in and out of consciousness Patrick was somewhat happy they had finally let him stay awake.

In the background he could hear the faint beep of several machines: a heart monitor, an IV pump, a blood pressure device. Where was he?

Patrick didn't remember much from the fall, nor did he know anything about his time in recovery. Had he died? How bad had he been? What happened to the people like Dallon who were still hiding? Multiple questions swam around in Patrick's mind, leaving him at the hands of a crippling headache.

"God," he moaned as the throbbing intensified.

"You're awake."

Patrick's eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly, only to slouch down as the room went spinning. Standing at the foot of the bed was the man Patrick never wanted to see again.

"You."

"Me," Pete said with a smile.

"Go away," Patrick demanded.

"Now, is that the correct way to treat the man who saved you?"

"I don't care what you did, you ass."

Pete's eyebrow raised. "You have a right to be mad; it's a human emotion felt after betrayal of course, but if we're to be honest there was no way that you pathetic little humans would've won. Don't you agree, Patrick? Can you not say that you were doomed from the start?"

"We were never doomed."

Pete let out a humourless chuckle. "No matter. The doctor should be arriving in a few moments. He's going to do a quick assessment of you to ensure optimum health, and if he clears you I will be taking you to our house where I will explain what is going to happen to you."

Patrick shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I'd rather be dead."

A knock on the door startled them.

"We'll discuss this later," Pete hissed. "Come in."

A tall, lanky, dark haired man entered and cheerfully introduced himself as Doctor Beckett. He proceeded to do a very through exam of Patrick, leaving Patrick mortified as Pete busied himself of what appeared to be a cell phone. In retrospect, the device was a solid piece of think, clear glass that displayed and worked like a real phone, at least that's what Patrick assumed.

To Patrick's disappointment he was cleared by Doctor Beckett and was escorted out of the room fifteen minutes later.

"Pete," Patrick whined. "You're hurting me."

Pete didn't loose his grip on Patrick's waist, but attempted to press a kiss to Patrick's temple. When Patrick pulled away, Pete abruptly stopped and glared at Patrick.

"I don't care what you want right now. What you're going go do is happily walk out those doors and into my car. I don't care if you're not genuine. Just look happy enough to not draw any attention. Got it?"

Patrick nodded. He let himself be pulled along and gently shoved into the back of the car, Pete following seconds later. Once the door had been slammed shut by Josh, Pete rounded on Patrick.

"You're lucky there weren't that many," he said referring to the paparazzi that had been at the hospital. Unbeknownst to Patrick, Pete was a celebrity in the Arkkarredian world and everyone wanted to know what was happening to their future king. Especially in a time of crisis. "You're lucky I didn't hit you."

"You should've hit me," Patrick challenged.

"And have my parents on my ass? No. I'd rather not."

"Why would you parents care?"

Pete sighed. "Later. Everything will be explained later. For now we are going to home and you're going to eat something and go to bed."

"I'm not hungry. Or tired," Patrick argued like a child.

"Doctor Beckett says healthy foods and rest will ensure that you're fully recovered."

"I don't give a damn about what he says. I'm perfectly fine!"

"I will not tolerate swearing from you."

Angrily, Patrick reached for the door handle and flicked the lock. He attempted to push the door open, getting it cracked partially, but was pulled into Pete's lap.

"Let me go!"

"Sh," Pete soothed.

As Patrick continued to thrash around, Pete calmly removed a needle of sedative that Doctor Beckett had prescribed in case Patrick proved to be any trouble.

"Don't you dare."

"Just relax."

And the needle was pressed into Patrick's arm, much to his displeasure. By the time the drug had taken its full effect, Josh had pulled up to the house, letting the car sit idle in the driveway.

"Have Tyler begin dinner," Pete instructed him. He gathered Patrick into his arms and carried him to one of the spare bedrooms. His mother had suggested that Pete give Patrick some space and time before getting down to business, so Pete had the room below his refurbished to Patrick's liking. This wasn't a permanent situation of course. Pete would be sure to make that quite clear.

Pete gently placed Patrick onto the bed and carefully removed his shoes, socks, glasses, and fedora before pulling the covers up around him. A kiss was placed to the unconscious man's forehead before Pete wandered out of the room and in the direction of his private office. Maybe he could get some work done before dinner.