The Noble Desire (Peterick)

.•°Eight.•°

Cobwebs smothered his brain at the first light of day. Everything was foggy, confusing and blurry for a few moments as Patrick tried to process where exactly he was. It was a bed that was not his own, much bigger in size and far more comfortable. He noticed the glass of water on the nightstand as a paperweight for the note underneath.

Drink this and have a shower. You'll feel better. Trust me. When you're done come downstairs. The chef will make you some eggs and toast. Protein and carbs will give you an energy boost.

-Pete

Patrick recalled last night in little bits and pieces of accidentally consuming a pot brownie and going into a strange psychedelic state. It must have been Pete who took him back to the palace and watched him in his bed to make sure he didn't freak. He remembered feeling mellowed out and warm all over for forever. Then it was like he had been hit by an actual bus and was dying incredibly slow over the course of a few hours. The fact that the prince hadn't abandoned him was a soothing thought in that he wasn't as much of an asshole as Patrick assumed.

He stepped into the shower, toes flinching as they touched the chilled tiles. Steam filled the room when he cut it on. Water beat over his head in hot rivulets. Closing his eyes to the water, he leaned against the wall, the heat soaking into his skin. He became engrossed in the drops cascading down his body and massaging the cramped muscles he'd earned from sleeping in an odd position. There was a flash inside his mind of something he thought had been a dream.

His fingers ghosted over his wet lips whilst he painted the scene out. It was too real to have been any sort of dream or hallucination. For some unknown reason, Pete had kissed him, taken advantage of his weakened, stupefied condition. A jumble of chaos swirled inside him and slowly shaped into aggravation. Who did he think he was going around kissing people not in their right heads? Patrick abruptly turned the dials and shoved open the glass, the cold air slapping him all at once.

He quickly dressed and ruffled his hair with a towel until it was damp. Breakfast didn't appeal to him when he was a bit outraged that he'd kissed back, that he hadn't stopped Pete at all. He could barely remember it, couldn't even recall how he tasted, but Patrick knew it had been wrong. Pete was his boss, and that was as unprofessional as he was going to allow it to get between them. The prince was in the west courtyard talking with Meagan on a bench about things Patrick was sure he'd never know of. Though Pete was unhappy with having to chose a bride, Patrick believed that if anyone was perfect for him it would be Meagan.

He had a good feeling about her like she'd belong with him. Pete saw him walking up to them and smiled his signature charming smile.

"Good morning. Have you had your breakfast already?"

"Actually can I talk to you in private?" Patrick spoke.
"Can it wait? I'm discussing something-"
"No, but it'll be quick."
Pete followed him inside, and the pair went into an empty hallway.

"What's up, Patrick?"
The bodyguard rammed the prince into the wall, restraining him by his shoulders. The latter stared, wide-eyed and shocked.
"You ever try to kiss me again without my consent I'll make sure you're sorry."

"I could have you fired for threatening me," Pete said, dismissing the point.
"But you won't because you know I'd kick your ass on the way out."
"You really think you could beat me?"
"Definitely."
"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you're not strong enough to get out of here unless I let you go."

Pete laughed at the assumption, but when he tried to break free his body was pressed harder into the barrier behind him. Eventually, he gave up the effort.
"I still think you wouldn't stand a chance."