Even When I'm Drunk, I Find You Strange

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Pete's a little freaked out. In fact, he's more than freaked out, he's taken a one-way bus to freak-land where the freak king will welcome him into the round table of freaks.

So initially, the plan was to stop the kid bleeding, give him some food, let him stay the night and then send him on his way. But Patrick turned out to be a lot more than Pete ever bargained for.

In short, he's weird. First, he didn't know what a vegetarian was. Fair enough if you've never met one, maybe you don't know what it means, but to never have heard the word? Pete thought, at the time, that it was a little odd, but didn't dwell on it. Then, Pete nearly made him cry. A hard-ass tramp boy who might've been through all manner of horrific situations, and Pete caused actual tears in his eyes. Then, obviously, the whole lamp-and-cereal-cat-attack. How has he never seen a cat before? Pete's nearly screamed that question at him several times already. And then he found a broken egg in the sink.

Pete's also slightly pissed off at the fact that his cat, a rather contemptuous creature who's shown pretty much nothing but apathy towards Pete for the three years he's had him, follows Patrick around like he's his mother. If the boy sits down for more than five seconds, he's guaranteed a fluffy accessory, the cat's completely obsessed.

And, his foot's nearly healed. Pete would love to think it was just his medical genius that reduced the gash to a shallow pink line in less than twenty-four hours, but he knows that's not the case. He saw the size of that thing, hell, Patrick emptied the contents of his veins all over Pete's living room, he knows cuts like that don't just heal. Maybe it's a secret homeless-person remedy, maybe the kid's a gypsy child raised on tea leaves and witchcraft. Or maybe he just has a lightning-speed immune system.

Anyway, despite his inbuilt sense of disgust towards Patrick, and his introverted desire not to have anyone else around him, he sort of likes him. All the weird stuff just makes Pete want to figure this kid out. That's why he said he could stay another night. He's got an extra bed, why not give it to a thieving tramp?

Oh, and then the kid hugged him. Not even an awkward hug, a proper suffocating squeeze that made Pete jump out of his skin and try not to breathe Patrick's breath. He's got to get the kid a toothbrush. It was sort of sweet, though. It was nice not to be sworn at, for once.

Pete's not sure how comfortable he is with sharing his house, let alone leaving a stranger alone in his house. The kid could do anything. Maybe he's a pyromaniac, and Pete'll come home from work to find nothing but a pile of ash in place of his house. He wonders if his insurance covers strange homeless boys.

It's been two days, though, and there's been no deadly mishaps. Both nights, the kid slept like a log. Before he went to work, Pete peeked round the bedroom door to see a lump in the duvet, and a mop of dirty blond hair sprawled on the pillows. The kid's quite cute when he's asleep.

After taking a couple photos of his lounge just so he'll know if anything's been moved, and checking that everything valuable is out of Patrick's sight, he nods at himself in the mirror, and goes to work. He would've set something out for breakfast, but the kid's taken the box of Shreddies hostage, so Pete assumes he'll be alright.

-

Work is dull. He's the managing partner of a law firm, which is as lifeless as it sounds. He's got reduced working hours due to his illness, and a lot of his duties have been taken off him, which would've been a good thing if it wasn't for the fact that all he's been left with is finance management and HR.

He liked it better before. When his dad was still alive, and Pete was just the new kid on the block, grabbing clients and pacing around courtrooms. He liked defending people, actually making a difference in someone's life. He used to be Pete Wentz, attorney at law. Now he's just a too-young manager who spends his time buried in paperwork and avoiding sympathy.

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