Anything You Say (Peterick)

(13) One Day I'll Lose This Fight {Part 2}

"Patrick, anytime now would be awesome!" Pete insisted, wriggling his wrists around uselessly.

I rolled my eyes, yelling curses through the gag. Pete probably couldn't understand them, but he could guess what they were. Finally, his cuffs snapped open, "YES!" he screeched, jumping up and pulling my gag off. "How fast can you run with handcuffs on?"

I raised an eyebrow, "You're not gonna unlock me?" Pete merely pointed to the ever-growing flames around us. "Right," I grumbled, "Fast enough."

"Good. Let's go." He pulled me up (which, ow) and we ran to the doors. Pete was just about to kick it open when I heard a loud metallic groan and a screech. I just managed to pull him away before a heavy metal beam fell right where he'd been standing.

"Thanks," he said, staring at the metal death trap.

"No problem," I coughed, "but I can't breathe, so let's try the back door." He nodded, giving me a worried glance. I waved my hand around and nodded, which wasn't very reassuring considering I was coughing the whole time. Pete pulled me (which still hurt) around flaming piles of wood and leather as we dashed towards the kitchen.

He pushed me through the door before him, which would've been a sweet gesture, if he hadn't almost pushed me into another fire. "She didn't even come into the kitchen!" Pete exclaimed between coughs, pulling me away again. I swear if he touches my shoulder one more time I'll kill him. He desperately searched for a way around the smouldering patch.

"Th-cough-there," I pointed to a barely foot-wide patch of safe ground. Pete immediately grabbed my hand Fucking finally and pulled me after him.

"Which way is the- Patrick!" his question was cut off by me falling to me knees in a terrible coughing fit. "I'm not coughing this bad, are you okay?" I glared at him. "Right. Not the time. We gotta get out, where's the door?" I raised both hands and pointed over to where there was another smaller fire burning.

"Fucking excellent," Pete stated.

"There's -cough- window -cough- out front," I barely managed to say.

Pete was looking more and more worried with every second that passed, "I can see why you don't smoke." I didn't even look at him, just pulled myself up and towards the door. A second later Pete slipped his arm around my waist to help keep me upright. After stumbling and nearly falling three times before we even made it to the door, Pete just mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "fucking useless" before picking me up, bridal style

"Dude, you're fucking light, do you even eat?" if my hands weren't trapped behind his neck I probably would've smacked him.

"There," I whispered, nodding towards a clear window. He gently sat me against the wall and looked around. All of the chairs and tables were either on fire or a pile of ashes.

He looked down at his hands and sighed, "Why is it always me."

"Pete? No!" I cried, which immediately led to another coughing fit.

Of course, he completely ignored me and grabbed on to the legs of a chair, whipped it around, and let go. The chair easily broke through the glass. The fire jumped up several more feet for a few seconds, but then mostly died back down.

When he came back over to pick me up, I grabbed onto one of his hands and pulled it close.

He rolled his eyes, "I'm fine. See? No burns. I won't be able to say the same for us unless we get out of here, like, now." He promptly picked me up again, and gingerly stepped through the broken glass into safety.

My lungs were infinitely grateful to be breathing clean air.

"How well travelled is this road?" Pete asked, glancing uneasily at the pavement.

I shrugged, "Not very," my voice sounded strained even to me, and I knew Pete wasn't going to let it go.

As I guessed, he immediately narrowed his eyes, "We're going to the hospital."

I scrambled from his arms, "Absolutely not. I'm fine."

Pete glared, "You are most definitely not fine and you need medical attention. People can die from smoke inhalation, Patrick."

"It's not that bad, Pete. I'm talking fine now."

"You sound like you've been smoking for the past 60 years."

I glared, "I'm not even 30."

"That's not the point." We heard police sirens in the distance, "Alright, fine. We're not going to the hospital. But we are going to let Andy and Joe check you out to make sure you're actually okay, and then we're getting the hell out of dodge."

I nodded, "How far was the drive?"

Pete winced slightly, "About nine miles."

I sighed, "Will you at least unlock the handcuffs first?"

He nodded and patted around his pockets. After a moment he looked over at me with wide eyes.

"You didn't."

"...I did."

Chapter Title: The Light Behind Your Eyes - My Chemical Romance