Yes. I know I haven't posted in a while, so here's a little filler.
Summary: Pete's become a little more than obsessed with his camera, and Patrick's gonna get even.
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone is this fic, nor in real life. Please don't try to sue me.
Patrick Stump was playing his guitar on his couch in the living room of his dainty apartment. It was oddly quiet at his place, yet he found it perfect for composing music. When a burst of sudden light hit his face, however, he knew he was sadly mistaken.
"WHAT THE HELL?!!" he shouted, dropping his guitar, snatching off his glasses, and rubbing his eyes furiously.
Once he got his sight back, he was staring into the face of the culprit: his boyfried, Pete Wentz, with a blue digital camera.
"PETE!!! Why did you do that?!" Patrick yelled angrily.
"But 'Trick, it turned out nicely, if I do say so myself," Pete boasted with a look of glee.
~This is not what I signed up for when I said "Sure I'll go out with you, Pete. What harm could it possibly do?" STUPID!!!~ Patrick thought.
Pete saw Patrick's distraught face and frowned. He sat down next to his victim and pulled Patrick to his chest. He kissed his forehead.
"Hey babe?" Pete said lightly. Patrick's anger dissolved and he looked up for the expected apology.
"Smile." Pete said quickly and before he registered what was going on, another flash went off in Patrick's face. The older man bounded away in time to escape Patrick's grasp of frustration.
Exactly a week ago, Patrick's Saturday was quite peaceful at first. At this very moment, however, Patrick was hiding in his bathroom. The door was locked and and he didn't plan on leaving any time soon.
All through the week, Pete and "Lil' Bleu," his camera, had basically attacked everyone they knew: Joe was caught pigging out in the fridge, Andy was snapped while exiting the bathroom Patrick was currently occuping, and even the new father Dirty had his picture taken with his baby Beverly^. But no one has had as much exposure as Patrick.
Pete had gone camera happy with Patrick. Everywhere the couple went, so did Lil' Bleu. From eating to sleeping to playing music, Patrick was caught on film doing it. Not only were there multiple pictures of Patrick on camera, they were pasted all over Pete's blogs. Pete's personal favorite was catching his boyfriend coming out of the shower and his towel was starting to slip. He, however, wasn't able to capture the next second when the towel actually fell to the floor (basically because Patrick ran into his bedroom and locked Pete out.)
~Why am I even freaking out?~ Patrick pondered, ~I mean, it's just a stupid little camera in the hands of my Peter Panda. Where's the actual harm in-~
"PAT A CAKE!!!" The shrill call of Pete's arrival through the front door sliced straight into Patrick's thoughts. "Honey, where are you?"
Patrick's breathing slowed and silently ghosted over his lips. He hudled into the space between his toilet and tub, hoping that if he stayed quiet, Pete would assume he went for a walk or something.
"Tricky," Pete called out again, "If you're here and just hiding from me, I got a secret weapon that just loves you!"
~Ha,~ Patrick thought with a complimentary neck jerk, ~As if your camera will help you find me! Take that catastrophe of an electronic device and get lost somewhere... but not too lost. DAMN! I can't even be mean in my own head!~
"Okay, he's not coming out," Pete said aloud, making Patrick wonder why he was talking to himself so loudly, "Go get 'em, Hemmingway."
Patrick's hand flew to his mouth to cover his involuntary gasp of shock. ~Hemmingway?! Oh shit, he brought his dog!!?!~
Hemmingway was born the laziest and strangest dog on the planet with one of the strongest noses too. Even if he was sleeping in another room, if Hemmingway caught your scent, he'll waddle around to locate you and fall back asleep next to you. Many a morning Patrick would have drool in his hair from Hemmingway (or Pete, from time to time) snoozing on his head.
In a matter of two seconds, Hemmingway was barking and pacing in front of the bathroom door. Patrick bounded towards the window, obviously forgetting about the 15 foot drop beneath it. Defeated, he crawled back into his original spot.
"Thanks, Hemmingway baby," Pete said, bending down to pet the twirling dog. The amused smirk everyone in his life recognized crossed Pete's lips as he pulled Lil' Bleu out of his hoody. "Keep that pose, Hemmingway."
Patrick saw the flash, heard the yelping and scuffling, and knew Pete's antics even sent his royal friend running.
"Patrick, I know you're in here and you know what I want from you. We can make this very easy with your cooperation, or we can make this very difficult. And you just know how much I love it when things get difficult. But either way, you have to come out, babe."
Considering surrender was far from Patrick's mind, but a lot of futile efforts rattled through instead.
Pete didn't even bother with the doorknob. He knew of Patrick's love of privacy and security. In fact, that's what attracted Pete to him in the first place; he used to think, ~How can you perform in a band so popular, but be so inclined to yourself? This is a mystery for Pete Wentz to solve!~ But, instead of a quest, it became a match made in Heaven.
Now, however, Patrick was experiencing a level of his Hell: Being overexposed by someone he loved. He didn't know how to react against this except to protect himself. Pete was his best friend and his worst enemy at the moment.
"Patrick, if you won't return yourself to me, then fine. I'm gone. Good the fuck bye!" And with that, Pete's dying footsteps could be heard.
Now, Patrick wasn't stupid and he knew his boyfriend wasn't either; just ignorant. Instead of leaving, Patrick knew Pete was pulling the clichÃ© "Stepping-in-place-and-every-step-is-lighter-than-the-one-before-it" routine.
When he heard the front door close, however, he leapt up, unlocked the door, and ran to catch up with Pete. His hand was on the front door knob when a voice in his ear hissed, "Hey Patrick."
He whipped around to see Pete not two feet behind him. The familiar smirk made a guest another appearance as Pete trapped the blonde between a rock and a hard place. "Do you think I'd pull the clichÃ© "Stepping-in-place-and-every-step-is-lighter-than-the-one-before-it" routine with making it more realistic? Come on, you know me better than that! I hid behind the couch and waited for you to come out here. And guess what I got?"
Patrick's face had pure terror on it as Pete pulled out Lil' Bleu from his pocket again. If there was a worse time to wear purple silk pajamas, Patrick really wanted to know now. ~Why the hell didn't I get dressed today?~ he thought as he simultaneously prayed for a miracle.
"Smile." was the only thing Pete said and Patrick immediately shut his eyes and turned his head. He tried to soothe himself in his mind. ~It's just a camera, it's just a camera, It's just a camera, it can't hurt me, just a camera, I'll be fine...~
Click. Click. Click.
"What the hell?" Pete said, upset. Patrick's eyes flew open as he looked back.
A red light was flashing at him on the shutter side as Pete examined the rest of the camera (again, Pete's just ignorant). Curiosity got the best of Patrick as he read the print under the light before his lips were gleefully high on his cheeks.
"Pe-tah?" he said childlike.
"What Pat-" Pete's words stopped as Patrick yanked Lil' Bleu away from the dark-haired man and replaced it in the opposite direction so the light was now glaring up at Pete.
"Next time," Patrick laughed as he strolled past Pete to retrieve his abandoned guitar, "don't forget to charge the battery, babe."