Darkness doesn't always destroy the light ~ (Peterick/daddy)

Just one yesterday

"Sound check." Andy peaked his head into the door, not surprised when he didn't get an answer from Pete.

"Okay, we'll be out soon. Thank you," Patrick smiled, earning one back, and Andy just turned away and walked right back out to help set up for the last show of this tour.

"You know, you could be a little kinder to the other members, Pete." Patrick said quietly as he flipped his fedora on, Pete still not looking up from his phone.

"Why should I?"

"Because a little niceness can go a long way."

"So?"

"Why are you only nice to me? Why doesn't everyone else get to see the side of you that loves coffee and smiles every once in a while?"

"Because you're withstandable. I can actually stand being around you." He shrugged.

"Says the guy who won't mutter a word to me unless I say it first. And usually it's to argue with me or something."

"Patrick, you know I favor you over the other members."

"Then why won't you look at me?"

'Because I'm afraid I won't be able to look away.' Ran it's course through Pete's head, but he shook it away and kept his mouth shut.

Patrick sighed. "You heard him, sound check." He stood and walked out of the room, leaving Pete behind to release the breath he was holding in. He looked back down at his phone and smiled a little, continuing to flip through the album in his gallery dedicated to a familiar boy in a fedora.

"One day." He muttered, "One day."

______

"Look who's finally joining when the works almost done." Andy said jokingly, Pete rolling his eyes.

"Pete, can you help please?" His eyes instantly shifted to Patrick, who was having troubles with his microphone.

"Sure yeah," He strutted to him, trying to keep his eyes from wandering to far. Patrick had a guitar strapped over his shoulder hanging to his hips, almost too big for a little thing like him to carry. He was on his tippy toes trying to loosen a knob to lower the mic stand to his height, but with the dimmed lights and lack of height, he couldn't see it. His fedora rested on the crown of his head like a crown a prince like him deserved, making his glasses rest on the lower bridge of his nose. His cardigan hidden hands occasionally came up to push them back up in annoyance, tired of continuously having to adjust them.

Pete went to twist the knob, still a little spaced out and he accidentally grabbed Patricks hand instead, who jerked it back unexpectedly and his cheeks turning red.

Pete just pretended he didn't notice and checked out the mic stand, ignoring Patrick's still wide eyes he could see out of the corner of his.

"Here, you're twisting it the wrong way." Pete chuckled, twisting it correctly this time and lowering it perfectly to fit Patrick's height.

"Oh, silly me," Patrick smiled and shook his head, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, kit- um, Patrick." He said plainly, cursing himself for almost slipping up about what he really wanted and unable to help smiling at the ground as he walked away.

'He actually smiled at me.' Patrick thought, giddily tuning his guitar and trying to refocus on something other than those rarely shown pearly white teeth.

______

"Anything you say can and will be held against you, so only say my name," Pete sang quietly along with his eyes shut, happy he could hide the bulge in his jeans with his guitar when the thoughts ran wild. Patrick bent to his will, submissive on his knees, doe eyes looking up lovingly into his right before he completely wrecks him.

"For just one yesterday," Patrick looked back and made eye contact with Pete, who was already looking at him.

"For just one yesterday."

The crowd erupted in cheers and screams, the sound almost deafening but in the best way. Patrick didn't take his eyes away from Pete's, he stared intently and confused about the churning and fluttering feeling in his stomach.

Pete had a dark look in his eyes. It was hungry, no, it was starving, looking into Patrick's like he was the last deer left in the woods during hunting season. They weren't the normal glittery hazel they usually were, They looked nearly black, his pupils blown out and almost demonic, like the thoughts in his head were terrifying and borderline fucked up.

Patrick liked it, though, having Pete look at him in such a manner. He felt his blood rushing and hot, unsure if the bead of sweat dripping down his forehead was because of the heat in the room or the heat of the moment.

Pete took a deep breath and looked away, waving to the crowd as they continued to scream, finally snapping Patrick out of the moment. He smiled and looked out into the sea of blurred faces, signs he couldn't read, and hands in the air as he tried to push the moments before aside and begin the next song.

______

Short, but sweet.

Won't be sweet soon though *wink wink*

~Trash