How To Be A Real Boy

Pete smirked down at the parcel in his lap. "I never thought I'd see the day when Patrick Stump bought beer. Domestic beer, no less."

"Shut up, it's rude to go to a party without bringing something," Patrick retorted, making a wobbly left turn. Driving in William's corner of the city made him a little jumpy, the neighborhood was dodgy, to say the least.

"Awwwwww, don't be cross with me, angel. I was only joking earlier about getting wasted tonight. You can't hold your liquor, anyway."

"I'm not cross, I'm just trying to get us there in one piece. People drive like idiots in this part of town."

Rolling his eyes, Pete smiled at how wound-up his boyfriend was and rested his head against the window, watching the city lights go by. "You're cute when you're annoyed."

Patrick sighed, knowing the other man wasn't trying to rile him up on purpose. "Peter... please stop talking... thank you..."

Finally making it to the right block, and circling it eight times to find a parking space, the pair wandered up to the entrance and pushed the call button. "William Beckett's Tattoo and Hot Dog Parlor, how may I help you?"

"That's cute, Gabe, buzz us in."

"I'm sorry, that's an invalid password, try again."

"C'mon, Saporta, don't be a dick, let us in!"

"I'm sorry, that's an invalid password, try again."

Pinching his temples, Patrick tried to keep his cool. "Fine, fine, um...... 'fangs up'?"

"Entrance granted. We also would've accepted 'guilty pleasure' and 'Gabe Saporta is a sexy beast.'"

"God he's a tool," Pete giggled, pulling open the door once they heard the tell-tale buzz.

William met them at his door, already at least one sheet to the wind. "What took ya so long, Peterick? Get stuck in the downtown traffic again?"

Pete grimaced at the nickname and handed him the case of beer. "Let's not use the fangirl terminology, it's creepy."

"Suit yourself, chief," Bill giggled, letting them in. "Everyone's in the kitchen. I feel I should warn you, Ross has been hitting the Cuervo hard and already tried to wrap himself around Gabe like a wetsuit."

"As long as he doesn't start singing Rent like last time," Patrick smiled. Pete chuckled quietly and made a beeline for the living room couch, adjacent to the kitchen door. "Don't you wanna socialize?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna sit for a little bit. I think I overextended something earlier during the waltz," Pete mumbled, rotating his ankle.

"Serves you right," Patrick smirked, following their host towards the kitchen. "You want anything while I'm up?"

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks for asking, honey." Pete batted his eyelashes flirtatiously, earning an eyeroll as his partner turned to join the party.

Beckett's apartment had a particular smell that Pete could never quite place, vaguely fruity yet acidic. In the back of his mind, it made him wonder if there was a guava martini candle lit somewhere. As he leaned his head back against the couch and glanced around at the sparsely furnished room, he also pondered how he could've lost his desire to party between Patrick's apartment and this one. He'd been so keen to hang out before, but now he kinda wanted to go back, put in a movie, snuggle up under that ugly afghan he couldn't convince Patrick to throw away...

With a trip and a giggle, Ryan appeared in the doorway, grinning in a way that made the older man uneasy. "Sup, Petey?"

"Nothin'. Chillin'..." Pete watched in silent discomfort as the drunken boy came stumbling towards him; the last time he was that soused, there was an incident involving chocolate sauce, American cheese and a very upset blonde in a ruined silk top. "Whatcha doing in here?"

"Came in to talk to you." Ryan flopped himself directly onto Pete's lap, nearly knocking the wind out of him. "Beckett and Gabe keep talking to me like I'm fourteen."

"I can't imagine why that would be. Say, um, Ross? The... the rest of the couch is wide open..."

"Nope, I'm good here. You're deceptively comfy," Ryan grinned, putting his arms around his shoulders.

"...let me rephrase...while you might be comfortable... I'm not... get off me..."

"God, you are such a wet blankie, Pete. You're just afraid of making Patrick jealous."

"Yeah, that's part of it as well. You've never seen Trick mad, but trust me, you don't ever wanna see Trick mad. An angry Stump is not a good thing..."

"Don't be a drama queen, Wentz." Grabbing the back of Pete's head and pulling him forward, Ryan sealed his doom.

Because just then, Patrick had wandered over to the door to check up on Pete. The smile melted right off his face when he got an eyeful of his boyfriend's protege forcing his tongue into his mouth. Now, Patrick had never really been a jealous man. But suddenly, he felt something... snap.

"GET OFF OF HIM, YOU FUCKING SLUT!"

Hearing the commotion, the other party guests came skidding onto the scene, Gabe grabbing hold of Patrick before he could lunge forward like an enraged bobcat. "Dude, calm down, he doesn't mean it, he's drunk!"

"No excuse! Lemme at him!" Patrick fought his grip viciously, short arms and legs flailing like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

Startled by all the screaming, Ryan hopped off of Pete posthaste, blushing apologetically. "Oops... you're right, he gets mad..."

Pete frowned up at him. "You don't say?"

Brendon rolled his eyes and forced his way past the others. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Keep your lips and body parts off our friends!"

"You don't own me, Urie! I can do what I want!" Ryan yelled back, clenching his fists.

"You can't just go around kissing other people's boyfriends!"

"Guys, how about we move the argument elsewhere?" Jon suggested, hoping the party still had a chance.

"Don't bother, I'll just go, if I've really upset everyone that much," Ryan growled, stalking off towards the door.

"Don't you fucking walk away from me, Ross!" Brendon followed right behind.

"Bite me!"

"Never again!"

A brief silence filled the room after they slammed the door. William sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "That was messy. ...I think you can put him down now, Gabe."

"Oh, yeah," Gabe chuckled, setting down the considerably calmer Patrick.

Getting up and stretching, Pete gave a relieved smile. "I am glad that's over with. Christ, Lunchbox, you almost made Ryan piss himself, he was so-"

CRUNCH

The rest of the sentence was cut off as Patrick's fist collided with his nose, sending him straight to the floor. He'd failed to acknowledge the fact that his friend's eyes were still dripping with rage. William, Gabe and Jon stared in shock as Patrick stared daggers down at the bleeding Pete.

"If you didn't want it to happen... he wouldn't have been in your lap..." Patrick stated quietly, taking the bottle of Absolut Vanilla out of William's hand and making a beeline for the front door.

Shell-shocked on the floor, Pete finally found words. "...I think he broke my nose."

"Who knew he had such a mean left hook?" Gabe mused, going into the bathroom to grab a wet towel for the blood.

"This is the worst party ever," Bill chuckled anxiously, bending down to help Pete sit up. "Keep your head back, man. Shit, I hope this doesn't fuck things up between you two."

"Don't worry about it, you don't know Trick like I do," Pete mumbled, tilting his face up. "He'll be fine, I just have to give him some time to calm down. I just hope he doesn't drink all that vodka by himself, the guy can't hold his liquor."

"Well he definitely didn't break it," Jon observed, checking out the damage. "It's a decent amount of blood, but you'd probably be crying like a pussy if it was busted."

"Oh fuck you, Walker."

"Cut the guy some slack, he just got decked by his boyfriend," Gabe chuckled, returning with the towel. "Remind me to never piss him off, he's at just the right height to uppercut me in the gnads."

Pete snorted and winced, putting the towel to his nose. "I miss him already."

"I understand the feeling. I'm beginning to desperately miss my mom's place." Jon strolled over to the coatrack, grabbing his hoodie. "Sorry to cut it short, but I've got pie waiting for me, and this place is too much drama. I'll talk to you guys tomorrow, K?"

"Yeah, sure thing. I don't blame you in the slightest. Hell, I wanna leave this party."

"Don't beat yourself up. There's no way you could've predicted Ryan would go into gay heat after a little tequila," Jon smirked, waving and showing himself out.