peterick oneshots✿

3; Bright ass pink sissy knife. (F)

Pete loved to sleep with the window cracked. Said, at first, that it "brings in the good air", but he soon needed chilly air to fall asleep. It calmed him, in all honesty. He hated sleeping while warm. But Patrick, on the other hand, loved sleeping warm. And Pete, even though he slept in the winter in only boxers usually, was warm.

So of course, Patrick cuddled up to Pete often. Tonight, Patrick sported a t-shirt hidden behind Pete's hoodie, and long pants hugging his legs. He had to wear the long layers due to sleeping and cuddling Pete and the open window. Patrick does hate the cold, but Pete's a good cuddler and the cuddles compensate for the cold.

How they cuddled would change. Sometimes they'd spoon, the little spoon and the big spoon interchanging. Other times Patrick would lay on Pete, head resting on the tan guys chest, his thick legs between the others. Sometimes, Patrick was half on top of Pete. Sometimes it was like tonight.

Pete was laying on his left side, his left arm tucked under his head, his temple touching his elbow just slightly. His knees were brought up slightly and his right hand on Patrick's back. Pete was looking down at Patrick, who was sleeping soundly.

Patrick was curled up on his right side, eager to stay warm under the blanket. Patrick's hands were in small fists, right in front of his chest, oeroed between him and Pete. His knees were tucked up and between him and Pete too, but his head was stuck in between Pete's collar bones. Pete could feel Patrick's soft warm breath fanning over his chest every time the dirty blond exhaled though parted lips.

Patrick then mumbled softly, moving his head up and furrowed his eyebrows. The beginning of a nightmare. Pete carded his hands through Patrick's hair and the young one shifted, breathing in deeply and exhaled loudly.

"Please..." Pete whispered and Patrick's hands gripped into a tighter first, cuddling closer to Pete. "Please, Patrick don't-"

"No, stop-" Patrick choked out, shifting again, his legs going straight. "I don't," He then started crying out, words and phrases so random that were barely inaudible.

"Patrick, hey- Lunchbox-" Pete cooed, running his hand up and down Patrick's back soothingly. "Martin it's okay-"

"Please don't hurt me," Patrick huffed, sobbing into Pete's chest.

"Patrick please wake up, Patrick-" Pete whispered, hugging Patrick close. Patrick's breathing was heavy and fast. "Patrick please you're scaring me," Pete sighed, watching Patrick's knuckles go white from holding onto his own hand too hard.

"No!" Patrick screamed, his eyes shot open and he scrambled off the bed, his ass hitting the floor with a loud thud. Pete sighed and closed his eyes then opened them, looking over the edge of the bed and seeing Patrick on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

"How bad did it get this time?" Pete raised an eyebrow at Patrick, and Patrick looked at him.

"They had a knife, but like a bright ass pink sissy knife." Patrick sighed heavily, shuffling to his feet, rubbing all the stuff off his ass. "They almost stabbed me." He looked at Pete, who just averted his eyes from Patrick's ass and to his face.

"Come back into bed, Lunchbox." Pete smiled, rolling over and opening his arms. Patrick grumbled.

"Okay but I'm not joining you because I'm like, scared or anything- I'm not scared - or because I want to cuddle you-" Patrick was breathing hot breaths into his already chilly hands. "Because I don't wanna cuddle you..." Another hot breath into his hand. "It's because I'm cold and wearing no socks."