Patrick's Proper Prom (could be a love song)

Author's Note: This is 's fault, just so you know. A bit of fluff to cheer me up. Not being American I never actually had a proper prom, so this is taken from the one Homecoming dance I had the chance to go to (in Chicago 1999, so at least that kind of fits) and highschool movies.

Patrick was not quite sure how he ended up in this position. Oh wait, that wasn't true - he knew exactly how: It was all Pete's fault. Pete and his stupid smile and stupid eyes and stupidstupidstupid hands that he could never keep to himself. That was how Patrick had ended up spending his precious school breaks crammed into a tiny little van with three smelly boys, living on ramen and enormous quantities of coffee. And that was how Patrick ended up going to his prom with a boy without even being gay. Well. Mostly not gay. That was another thing that had gone the way of the dinosaurs since he started hanging out with Pete Wentz.

In any case, it was all Pete's fault. Pete who was standing at the foot of the stairs, grinning up at Patrick like a loon. He was wearing a suit, although he still had his current favorite hoodie on underneath the navy blue suit jacket. He'd even died his bangs barbie pink to match the hoodie - and still he looked awesome in the way only Pete could pull off. Patrick sighed and adjusted his tie, almost resigned to his fate. That was when he saw that Pete was holding a corsage in his hands, a pale pink rose.

"Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the Third, if you think I'm going to wear a fucking flower to my prom - to the prom that I didn't even want to go to - then you have another thing coming!"

"Aww, Pattycakes, don't be like this. This is going to be your beautiful prom experience, and I'll make sure it's perfect!" Pete was still grinning like crazy, unfazed by the fact that Patrick was close to strangling him - and Pete should know by now that Patrick would do it, too. Sometimes Patrick suspected Pete of being a secret masochist, the way he seemed to want to get his ass kicked. This time only the presence of Patrick's mom, smiling proudly, saved Pete from being killed, or at least from getting some nice shiny bruises.

Another thing Patrick would never understand: Why his mom appeared completely happy with anything Patrick ended up doing because of Pete. Weren't mothers supposed to want their sons to find a boring but steady job, get married to a nice girl and have lots of well-behaved children? Instead his mom supported Patrick's devotion for music wholeheartedly - something he was usually grateful for - and had only smiled at him when Patrick had told her that Pete had talked him into going to the prom with him, responding the same way she was doing now: "How nice. You boys have fun!"

Patrick jammed his hat further onto his head - he had chosen to wear one with the faint hope that maybe no one at school would recognize him - and sighed once more in resignation. Pete slung an arm around his neck and pulled him outside, bidding Patrick's mom a polite goodbye. When they reached Pete's car parked in front of the house, Pete finally let go of Patrick, but not before pressing a wet kiss against his cheek: "Stop pouting, Patrick, it'll be fun - bad music, bad clothes, spiked punch and making out in dark corners..."

Patrick half-heartedly wiped at his cheek and got into the car, fumbling with the radio until he found a decent classic rock station while Pete started driving. He looked at Pete out of the corner of one eye: "Making out in dark corners? Shouldn't you have set me up with a girl if that was part of your beautiful plan?"

He was aware that this was a leading question, but ever since Pete had started his campaign to "make Patrick see the light of their One True Love", also known as his "brilliant plan to get into Patrick's pants", after Patrick's 18th birthday - both titles a happily stoned Joe had told Patrick about with glee when they were hanging out one day - Patrick had found it an irresistible temptation to tease Pete with his supposed straightness. To himself he had long ago admitted that it was only a matter of time until he gave in. The most obvious tip-off had been the fact that he had started picturing Pete pretty much every time he jerked off approximately three weeks after meeting him.

"Don't be mean, Patrick! Is that any way to treat your prom date?" Pete was shooting him dark glances, and Patrick smiled to himself softly. Maybe it was fitting that he was going to his prom with Pete. After all, a thousand teenie movies couldn't be wrong, and over two years of foreplay was quite long enough. Having come to this decision, Patrick reached out and poked Pete in the side, making him squeal and slap his hand away.

"I'm not quite sure being blackmailed into taking you makes you my date, Pete." But even as he teased Pete, Patrick curled his fingers around Pete's wrist, stroking the soft skin their softly, and Pete smiled at him so widely that Patrick couldn't help himself. He leaned across and pressed a small kiss on the corner of that smile. Which was probably not the brightest idea he'd ever had, as the car swerved rather violently. Good thing that there was no oncoming traffic, and, although he was cursing, Pete was also laughing in delight. It gave Patrick a funny soft feeling in the pit of his stomach, similar to the one he sometimes got when Pete woke him in the middle of night, all small and quiet, asking Patrick to sing him to sleep.

The feeling persisted even as they parked at the school and Pete bolted out of the car to be able to open the door for Patrick, making a ridiculous-looking bow as he did so. Patrick only shook his head in fond exasperation: "You are aware that I'm not a girl, right? I know you are, because you've seen me naked several times."

Predictably, Pete leered at him: "Oh yes, and the visuals have considerably improved my quality time with myself. But I haven't touched yet, so how can I be absolutely sure?" Patrick only laughed and offered Pete his hand, which Pete took without hesitation and another one of his big, stupidly happy smiles. He did not let go, even as they entered the gym that had been converted into a madhouse of streamers and balloons, populated by overexcited teenagers, and Patrick found that he did not mind. He let himself be pulled over to where the pictures were being taken and even smiled when Pete insisted on kissing him on the cheek just as the flash went off.

"I so am your date, Patrick Martin Stumph!" Pete whispered into Patrick's ear triumphantly, his breath hot against his cheek, and Patrick could not help but blush just a bit. He was still holding Pete's hand as they walked across the dancefloor, ignoring the few strange looks they got from some other seniors. So this was his prom - it seemed like Pete had been right about all of it. Not that he was ever going to tell him that, there was no way Pete's ego needed to get any bigger than it already was. Patrick smiled to himself again and met Pete's curious eyes.

"C'mon, be a proper date, Pete. Let's find a dark corner and make out!" Pete almost pulled Patrick's arm out of his socket in his haste to comply, and Patrick remembered why he normally gave in when Pete had one of his brilliant ideas: They usually turned out alright. Or better than alright.