Pancakes and Handjobs

So likealocket initiated the 'A Hard Day's Night' Meme and said: Say Patrick has a hard night in the studio and comes in as the sun's rising to Pete ready with pancakes and handjobs (omg someone please write that!).. I obeyed and wrote comment fic. 🙂
Notes: Sweet like cotton candy or pancakes with maple syrup... *g* Edited from the original comment before posting here.

Everyone knew that Pete was an insomniac. Not too many people knew that Patrick also had the habit of not going to bed until a track was just right, even if it meant being awake until the sun came up. However, unlike Pete, Patrick was not in the habit of popping pills to keep himself awake, instead he mainlined coffee until not even that helped anymore. Therefore he would end a night like that resembling nothing more like a small, over-tired, easily annoyed zombie, hardly managing to find his way home.

Pete had made him promise to take a cab at times like that, after one-too-many almost-accidents that resulted in Patrick calling Pete sheepishly as he waited for the tow truck. Patrick, who knew to pick his battles, obeyed and thus made it home in one piece, this night, too. Still, as he fumbled his key into the lock, Patrick wanted nothing more than to fall down where he stood - his shoulders were tense, he barely managed to keep his eyes open and he was in dire need of a shower, the satisfaction of a job well done long gone.

Cursing under his breath as he almost stumbled over Penny's waiting form behind the door, Patrick dropped his jacket in the hallway and made a beeline for the staircase leading to the only thing on his mind at that moment - his bed. But before he made it even to the first step, he was waylaid by a way-too-awake Pete, leaning against the kitchen doorway with a self-satisfied smile that told Patrick even in his zombified state that he had something up his sleeve. His metaphorical sleeve, because, as Patrick noticed with the kind of nonchalance bred by overtiredness, he was wearing nothing but an apron that said "Kiss the Cook".

"Wha?" Patrick managed, taking off his glasses and rubbing them ineffectually against his sweaty shirt. "Not now, Pete, I just wanna go to bed."

But Pete was - of course - not deterred in the slightest. "Shh, you won't have to do a thing!" he smiled and pulled Patrick into the kitchen by the sleeve, past the counter, on which Patrick noticed some bowls and other utensils, and over to the couch in the adjoining living area. There he deposited Patrick and leaned down, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek that lingered just long enough to hold a hint of promise that Patrick was pretty sure he was too tired to enjoy. Still, seeing Pete sashay bare-assed back to the kitchen was incentive enough for Patrick to keep his eyes open just a moment longer - and before he could even consider settling further into the pillows, Pete was already back, carrying a plate with a gigantic stack of steaming pancakes with bananas and maple syrup, Patrick's favorite.

Then he sat down next to him, blithely ignoring the fact that Patrick was gross from hours and hours in a cramped studio with smelly musicians and boxes of take-out, and offered Patrick a fork full of yummyness with a proud smile: "You don't even have to cut it!"

Patrick couldn't help but smile back, albeit tiredly, taking the offered food and chewing slowly, feeling his spirit reviving. Pete was possibly the worst cook in the world, but his mom had insisted he learn how to make a mean pancake. Still chewing, Patrick rested his free hand on Pete's forearm and mumbled, mouth full: "Thank you, man, I haven't had anything to eat for -what time is it?- anyway, since last evening."

Pete just grinned and pressed another kiss to the corner of Patrick's mouth, catching bits of pancake. Any other time Patrick would have thought this disgusting, but right now he was too exhausted to care and it was just... nice to be close to Pete, feel his body press against Patrick's, and not have to say anything. Pete was rarely silent, but now he just sat there and fed Patrick bite after bite, eyes dark and warm.

Then, when Patrick finished the pancakes, Pete put the plate to the ground, where Penny and Hemmy both immediately licked it clean enthusiastically, and made Patrick scoot down a bit. Patrick felt his eyelids begin to droop and he let his head rest against Pete's shoulder with a contented sigh. Just before he nodded off, however, he felt clever fingers at his crotch, opening his zipper, and his head snapped up again.

But before he managed more than a strangled "Ngh?" Pete shushed him and urged him back down, slipping a hand inside Patrick's trousers and boxers, wrapping around his cock warm and tight, and Patrick couldn't suppress another sigh that turned into a half moan. The fingers were slippery and Patrick snorted when he realized that Pete had to have carried lube in the pocket of his apron.

"Boy scout," he murmured, but Pete shut him up with a soft kiss and kept on moving over his cock. Patrick was still exhausted, but arousal spread warm and sweet through him, not unlike the pancakes from before, satisfying and completely undemanding. He had his eyes closed, his head lolling bonelessly against Pete's, and could feel Pete's breath hot and moist against his skin. A part of him wondered whether he should try to return the favour, because there was the hard press of Pete's erection against his thigh, but when he moved restlessly he was once again quieted by Pete, his free hand holding him still.

"Shh, Patrick... don't worry, this is just for you." Pete's voice was calm and gentle, like the movement of his hand, and Patrick obeyed, allowing himself to sink further into the wave-like sensation of pleasure spreading through him. Finally it came to a crest, and Patrick panted and tightened his hold on Pete's arm, letting his orgasm wash through him. Pete pressed small kisses along his jaw until the last shocks had passed, then he cleaned Patrick and himself with his apron, all the while making small calming noises, similar to the time when Hemmy was sick and couldn't sleep.

Patrick felt his feet being lifted onto the couch, then there was a slight jostling around, but all very quiet and not enough to make Patrick open his eyes, until his head was resting on Pete's thighs and Pete's fingers began combing through his hair gently. A kiss was pressed to Patrick's forehead, and Patrick finally allowed himself to drift off, with the semi-conscious realization that he was going to owe Pete so big for this. Half-asleep, Patrick smiled and turned further into Pete's touch.