FicWad

Thanks for the Memories
A/N: I've never gotten this far in a multichapter fic. I'm very proud of myself. I don't really know how many people are reading, I suppose I could just look at the views. But does it mean you guys are reading cuz you like it, or cuz you wanna see it fail? I would greatly like feedback. Plus, bonus points if you can tell me what songs the titles come from, haha.
Chapter 5
Just a Matter of Time


"Home sweet home." Patrick took in a deep breath and flew into his white poofy chair.
"You heard what the doctor said." Pete scolded him. "Be careful for a while. At least until that hole in that back of your head heals up."
"You hear that Joe?" Andy put down Patrick's suitcase. "No more jumping around till that hole in your head is gone."
Joe sarcastically laughed and threw a French fry at his face. Having everyone smiling and laughing was just what he needed. Who cares what the doctor said, he felt like a million bucks. He felt like dancing, singing, and skydiving! Ok, maybe not the last one, but he'd do the first two. He could really go for some ice cream.
"Ok, guys," Pete ushered the two out of the living room and out the door. "Thanks for the help carrying in his bags, but after a week in the hospital; I think Patrick needs some rest."
Joe grumbled something about lousy friendships and had to be dragged by Andy out the door. Pete, on the other hand, did what ever needed to done and more. It seemed since the incident all the man did was serve to his every need. Of course, the tabloids had a hay day with this. Every news channel had their speculations on what happened. Drug overdose, alcohol problems, and fatal illness.
"Hey, Pete," Patrick asked him. "Let's go somewhere."
"What did I just tell you?" Pete had just been putting away some of Patrick's mail. "You are not getting up. "
"I've never felt so great in my life!" Patrick got up from the chair and went into his refrigerator. "Can't we just go to the gas station? I want to get some more ice cream."
"Listen." Pete put down an envelope turned him around. "You don't understand this, do you? You just got out of the hospital! You still have a bandage on your head! You aren't better yet. Please, try to take it slow. We don't want you to get hurt again."
Patrick nodded his head like a child in trouble. He understood that Pete was just worried, but he was clearly overreacting. What happened on stage was an accident and just too much stress. He was no longer ill, just hungry and hyper. Putting the ice cream away, he pouted off to his chair and flipped through the channels.
"Patrick." Pete called for him. "Come on, Patty-pat, enough of that."
"Can I ask you something?" Patrick asked as Pete sat down on the long black bench. "I've wanted to ask you this for a while. It's just out of curiosity. But, do we have anymore pregnancy tests?"
At first Pete didn't understand why Patrick would ask. But the look on his face told him that the young man was serious. Pete nodded and found one in the back of the bathroom closet. Patrick was hesitant at first, found a couple more, and shooed him out. When he was allowed back in, there were three separate cups sitting on the counter.
"They all say positive." Patrick scratched his back. "How could it say that?"
"I don't know." Pete didn't want to admit it, but it did clear up a lot of their problems.
"What if I am...you know, pregnant?" Patrick asked. "I mean, how? I already told you, you know, where I stand on the scale of sex."
"I think we should see a doctor." Pete didn't feel like joking around with this one. "You can't be the only case of men carrying babies. I mean, come on. You can't be the first. Let's go see a voodoo priestess or a Sharman or something like that. There has to be an explanation to why you are testing positive."
"Let's face it!" Patrick threw up his arms and exclaimed. "I'm a freak! I'm a modern day Virgin Mary!
Pete shook his head and cleaned up the mess while Patrick went on with his rambles of self hatred. This was getting out of control. There was no way that Patrick was pregnant.
"Calm down!" Pete got hold of Patrick's arms and struggled to keep them at his side. Patrick squirmed and kicked, trying his hardest to break his hold. "You have to calm down! If you are pregnant, which would be amazing, we can get through it. Most women do. We can take care of a kid. Calm down!"
"You don't understand!" Patrick screamed at him, his face red, "I don't want to be pregnant. I've seen those shelters, where the women go whose been left by their husbands. I don't want to have a screaming little kid on my hip! You can say that you won't leave me, but you will! You'll find some girl and run off." Patrick sniffled and rested his head on Pete's shoulder, "I know you. You've gotten girls and you love women. I'll be nothing to you. I can't take care of a baby. I can barely take care of myself."
Pete held on to Patrick, trying not to show emotion. He knew he should say something, like there was no way this was happening or that the tests were fake. If he could only convince himself of that.
"Nothing is certain yet." Pete said the only thing he could think of.


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The stone pedestal was cool against his bare skin. A circling raven about him was all he could hear. He was waiting very impatiently for his one love, his nightly ritual. When would his midnight delight arrive for him?
As if asking the devil himself, in the distance came his pale lover. His soft orange hair and his deep green eyes glowed so bright. He had never seen anything more heavenly.
"Sing for me..." He pleaded.
His lover sang so sweetly, like a dove in this abandon world. His skin was so smooth and smelling of soap. How could an angel land in this hellish place? He added his voice to his song, making a melody only brought on by them. This was their world and their time. As he did every night, he laid his lover down and completed his midnight ritual.

Pete woke up in a cold sweat and a beating heart...