(Emo) Band One-Shots Part 2!!!

Stressed Out

SMUT WARNING

{Patrick's POV}

It was a Friday afternoon. I sat on the couch and watched TV, waiting for Pete to get home. I heard a car pull up in the driveway and my heart practically leapt out of my chest.

Then a car door slammed. Yes, slammed. Oh no. Pete was mad. Really mad.

Wait, I have an idea...

{Pete's POV}

''Fucking Jason and his fucking coffee all over my fucking shirt,'' I muttered as I fumbled with my keys.

*Flashback*

I suppose that outburst deserves some explanation.

Now, I'm a patient man on a daily basis. So, normally, this sort of mishap wouldn't affect me. Everyone knows me as ''that one chill guy who works for Mr. Hurley.'' See? I'm cool!

However, this was not the case today. 

It started literally before I woke up. I had one hell of a nightmare and woke up at 3 am. I couldn't go back to sleep for a while. I didn't remember falling asleep, either, until I woke up to Patrick shaking me and mumbling, ''Pete, you start work in literally half an hour!''

My goddamn alarm didn't go off.

Then I got to work 20 minutes late, dropped my phone trying to open the door (and cracked the screen, mind you), and somebody had taken the last chocolate chip cookie in the jar in the break room.

I don't even want to think about lunch break.

Then, long story short, I kept stubbing my same fucking toe, had a boring meeting, and Jason (purposely) spilled piping hot coffee on my shirt.

I was trying to be chill through all of this, and as you can imagine, that was pretty fucking difficult.

*End of Flashback*

I stuck my key into the lock on the door, letting myself inside. As I heard footsteps coming from the kitchen, I let out a relieved sigh and plopped down on the couch. My work day was finally done. 

As Patrick walked into the living room where I sat, I almost choked.

''Hey, Petey!'' Patrick smiled, twirling his fingers in his bright pink skirt. ''How was your day?''

''Hey, babe,'' I sighed out, drinking in his appearance. He smirked and threw his hands on his hips I studied him.

Bright pink lips, his eyes rimmed with a bit of eyeliner, his hair swept neatly over one eye. I trailed my eyes down to his shirt, a baby blue tank-top that draped over his short, bright pink skirt.

''I don't think you answered my-'' Patrick cut himself off. ''Is that coffee on your shirt?''

''Yeah...'' I looked down at my ruined piece of clothing. ''To answer your question, it wasn't great.''

''Aw, you seem so tense, hun,'' Patrick mumbled, gesturing to my shirt. ''Let's start by getting this off.''

I gasped in a deep breath as the smaller boy climbed onto my lap, straddling my waist firmly. He slid his hands up and down my clothed torso before he began to unbutton my shirt. I just looked at his concentrated expression as he bit his glossy bottom lip.