Puzzle Pieces (Sonny/Graffiti Pete) In The Heights

Chapter 8: Finale Part 1

Here's to the people who have literally no readers and write for only themselves! Cheers, me!

Pete is so tired, but it was worth it; he can't deny it's his greatest art piece, like, ever.

Sonny's already passed the tired mark and entered the awake zone again- he swears this is a real thing because it happens every time he stays up late late.

Pete, though, Pete looks as though he's about to collapse. The mural on the grate is obviously finished, and Sonny slips underneath Pete's arm, blushing as Pete sags tiredly onto him. "C'mon," Sonny murmurs, "You can... you can stay over at our place tonight."

Pete stumbles and blushes, trying to act as though that was because he was tired and not because he was just invited to sleep at his crush's place. "Sure. Thanks man, thanks so much."

"All you, all you." Sonny can't even with Pete, who just thanked him for a bed for a night when he literally just stayed up all night for Sonny. Pete already knows he's not going to be able to sleep, not with Sonny right there. And Sonny is wondering whether he should go for it or volunteer to sleep on the floor.

Pete blinks at the single bed, every cell in his body suddenly sparking. "Dude. Where are you sleeping?" Maybe, just maybe...?

Sonny is blushing so hard, he can't possibly say it. "I wasn't going to," he shrugs instead.

He barely has time to register how sexy Pete's pack is as Pete pulls off his shirt before Pete pulls them both into the bed and Sonny can't think anymore except that if he's going to sleep he should take the hat off.

Sonny was looking at Pete's chest. He could tell. He saw Sonny's eyes travel down, he saw Sonny's tongue flick out just a bit. Just once. Pete can't face Sonny, not without pushing Sonny into the bed, kissing that blush right off Sonny's face, pulling Sonny's shirt off...

Sonny is pulling his own shirt off, appearing self conscious, but Pete is this close to drooling. He's not sure whether to curse the air for being to hot or fall on his knees and thank it feverishly. Sonny's gorgeous under that shirt, gorgeous with short black curls that spring below that baseball cap of his.

Sonny can't believe he's pulling his shirt off: he's a normal guy and Pete- well, Pete is expectedly muscular... crazy hot. Sonny is gald when Pete turns over so they're not facing each other because Sonny's seriously considering putting his shirt back on, hundred degree temperature bedamned.

Pete's shoulders look smooth, firm, strong. Sonny can see Pete's muscles in his neck move as he thanks him.

"No prob," Sonny replies, trying to sound tired. Honestly, he's going to stare at Pete's shoulders all night, he already knows.

Pete's heart is racing. He can feel Sonny's eyes on his back, and he can't dispel the feeling that Sonny won't like what he sees, even though he knows he's got a nice body. Sonny is special, and Pete's nervous. He casually stretches, flexing the muscles in his back, shoulders, and arms.

Sonny can't tear his eyes away. He's never been so attracted to someone ever. Pete's got the lean build of a dancer. When Pete stretches- wow. "Oh." he whispers. Shit.

Pete smiles softly to himself. Oh. Maybe he's okay after all. Maybe they do fit.

Sonny blinks groggily into the light that streams through the windows, since the curtains are crap and practically threadbare. Stretching, he hits a warm body that is firm but not rock hard like Usnavi's bony frame.

"Bro." Graffiti Pete groans (wow, that's hot) at being jabbed so early in the morning before he realizes who it was. (If he'd known it was Sonny, he probably would've said thank you.) "Oh, hey. Uh." Whoa. That's right. Sonny's shirtless.

Pete is too, actually, and Pete can see Sonny's eyes drinking him in like morning coffee, but he's no better. His milk-tea cream skin, his light sprinkling of hair and his- Pete's eyes keep flitting back to Sonny's nipples, hard even though the morning is still stiflingly warm.

Sonny can't move, can't breathe until Pete slips his sleeveless on, because Pete's the most gorgeous being in existence, from his smooth skin to his muscled stomach, the underwear peeking suggestively from Pete's sagging pants...

"Let's go, man!" Pete's tugging on Sonny's hand, and Sonny fumbles for his shirt, ruby red. Pete almost regrets urging Sonny faster, wishing he could take the time to fully appreciate Sonny shirtless, since this is probably the only time he'll get the chance.

Soon the two of them are at the grate so Pete can check to see it in the new light of the morning. Sighing with relief, he sees that there are no spots where the paint has run, despite the spray cans being fuller than he's used to and the sky being dark.

Sonny gazes at the sunlit portrait of Abuela, rendered in gorgeous curves and bold, witty edges, glowing with color that fills the air and heart with love and admiration- both for Abuela and for Pete because god, Pete. There are no words.

"What it do? Great sunlight this morning!" Pete finally allows himself a bit of slack, unable to deny that it looks great.

Sonny, spotting Usnavi walking down the street, rolls up the grate, wondering at how nonchalant Pete can be about such an incredible work.

Actually, Pete's freaking out inside. It looks really good, technically. But what happens if it's not enough? If Pete lets Sonny down...

Gathering his courage, Sonny calls out to his cousin. "Yo, cuz, we fixed the grate!"

Both boys are thinking the same thing: I hope this peice fits.

Love you!! Am I overdoing the whole puzzle pieces thing? I try.

          -The Worst Writer on Wattpad