My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

Chapter Eleven - Dance, Dance

(Pete's Point Of View)

I walk into the kitchen seeing Patrick making his morning tea. I walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist and rests my head in the crook of his neck kissing it.

"Holy smokes Pete!" He jumps almost dropping his faovorite Star Wars cup.

"Sorry babe," I step away from him, "Good morning."

He turns around and kisses me, "Good morning." He smiles, "Even though it's technically the afternoon so, in these standards, good afternoon."

"Fuck I love your technicality." I kiss him again.

"I know." He says against my lips.

I pull away, "I was thinking," I put my hands on his hips, "Maybe we should go out tonight. Go dancing."

"Aw Pete!" He blushes, "You know I can't dance for the life of me."

"But you can. You can pull moves better than I can."

He chuckles, "No Pete, I'm a bismol at dancing. My safest move is my right leg shaking, you know that."

"Oh come on Patrick."

"Fine. I'm good." He says.

"There you go," I kiss him and walk away swinging my hips. I stop and look back at him, "You should get ready PattyCakes." I wink and leave the kitchen walking upstairs and towards our bedroom. I literally walk into Patrick's Granny, "Sorry."

"You're fine sonny." She smiles, "You guys have plans tonight?"

"Yup, I'm taking Patrick dancing tonight."

"Well you two have fun!" She walks downstairs and I walk into the bedroom closing the door behind me.

I walk over to my dresser and rummage through it until I grab black skinny jeans and a black button up shirt with my vintage "bat" logo, purple, on it. Then, I undress and get in the shower. After like five minutes I get out, dry myself off and gets dressed. Brush my pearly whites and combs my hair. Walking out of the bathroom, out of the room back down the stairs and into the front room, I find Patrick fully ready. Damn he looked sexy as fuck. Considering I haven't seen his ass in those pants yet.

If you were wondering, Patrick is wearing black dress pants, a gray shirt with buttons with just at the top of it and a black "dress up" jacket that is buttoned up halfway. No Fedora ontop of his yet again bleach-blonde hair and no black rimmed glasses sitting right on the ridge of his nose. I already miss them. Oh well, if it makes him happy, I'm happy.

"Hey babe!" I half-sing.

"Oh hey Pete!" He stands up and walks towards me and he kisses me, "Ready?"

"Yup, are you?"

"Well duh!" He rolls his eyes playfully smiling, "Let's go dork." He grabs my hand and leads me to the door. Yup, his ass looks shmexy. Well he is shmexy in general, but you get my point. We walk out of the house and into the car. Patrick's driving of course. I tell him where to go and with that, we head for the club.

We get there and it's one of those fancy ones I guess. We walk inside and like always, people ignore us.

"Hey Patrick! If we ever some how get lost from one another or knowing something is wrong we should keep in contact! Like calling each other!" I shout over the music.

"I was thinking the same thing, but we will make sure we won't split up for any reason!" He shouts back.

"Want to dance first or get a drink!" I ask.

"Let's get a drink first! Please no alcohol!" He answers.

"Okay!" I shout as we head over to the bar.

We sit down on the stools, together, the bartender walks over to us and looks at Patrick weirdly, "How may I help you guys?"

"I would like a coke." Patrick says.

"I will have the same."

"Are you sure you don't want whiskey and punch old ladies Patrick?" The bartend laughs walking away. Patrick's face got angry at that. He comes back with our drinks then walks away again.

"What's wrong honey?" I ask Patrick.

"Nothing. Just that bartender, named Peter, basically just threw what he said in my face. I was here the night I punched my Grandma and whatnot." He explains.

"Don't let his get to you baby." I kiss him. Obviously causing stares.

"Okay Pete." He smiles shyly.

We finish our drinks in silence, well not talking anyways, "Ready to get your groove on?"

"Sure, but like I said, I'm a bismol at dancing."

"Just come on." I grab his hand and leads him to the dance floor. Before I knew it, Patrick starts getting down. I haven't even started dancing yet, "I thought you said you couldn't dance?" I smile joining him.

"Well, I lied." He winks chuckling grabing my sides and starts grinding against my leg. I can't help, but get hard. Then, he moves behind me, putting both his hands on my hips and sucking on my neck.

"Fuck, Patrick!" I moan without meaning to. Then, I feel him move away, hearing his voice. I turn around and my heart drops. Patrick isn't there anymore. Maybe he went to the bathroom and he thought I heard him. I instantly call him and he doesn't answer. He would hear his phone in the bathroom. That's not like Patrick, at all to not answer. Especially if it's me. I'm not trying to be the spotlight, but we did make a plan to call each other if we were seperated.

I call again with the same outcome. Where the hell is he? Why isn't he answering?