FicWad

Erm, sorry this took so freaking long...
It's kinda short.
Dedicated to Izzy ^^
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Hannah sighed and rolled over; she was sick. At least that's what she told everyone; really, she had a bottle of vodka stashed under the bed, inside her suitcase, and was doing what she liked best when she felt depressed, drinking in bed. There was some Tylenol on her bedside table, too, it helped her sleep. Courtesy of Peter dearest; Haha, sucker/, thought Hannah. She grabbed the bottle, popped one in her mouth, and washed it down with her 'glass of water', which wasn't really water. Like Pete was going to taste it. She was a bit worried he might smell the alcohol on her, so she just made sure not to breath on him. Who wanted to kiss someone who was sick, anyway? She fidgeted with the covers, and punched the pillow several times to make it more comfy. /Fuck. Okay, I'm all better now, she thought, throwing back the blanket and untangling her legs from the sheets. She was in a tee shirt and boy shorts, so she threw on some pajama bottoms and went to brush her teeth. Minty fresh; no one would ever know.

Pete looked up from his newspaper; Hannah entered the living room, and he threw down the paper; politics were boring anyways.
"Hey, babes, I thought you were sick?"
Hannah nodded, and climbed onto his chair, curling up in his lap.
"I feel better now."
Pete gently kissed her neck, and Hannah sighed. She knew where this was going.
"So...have you given any thought to what I asked you about?"
"Mmmhmm." Hannah replied, feigning disinterest.
"And...?"
Hannah was dreading this moment. Oh, she'd be lying through her teeth, but hey; Pete'd be off her case. Hannah suddenly tasted that vodka, and she tried not to puke as she admitted;
"I've decided to give it a try."
"Really? Oh, Hannah, that's great " Pete stood up, scooping Hannah up in his arms and burying his face into her neck. She squealed and clung to him, laughing. Pete spun her around, kissing and tickling her, and Hannah's laughs and shrieks rang through the house. Neither of them noticed Patrick, standing alone in the hall, watching them. I could hold her like that...if my arm wasn't broken and I was taller than her. He shook his head and continued on to the kitchen.
"Pete- Peter " Hannah gasped, breathless from laughter, "Put me down, Hon."
Pete lay her down on the couch next to him, and the two lay there, panting slightly for several minutes. They turned to each other and looked into each other's eyes at exactly the same second, and leaned in to kiss. Hannah ran her hands through Pete's hair, and he grasped her waist. Carried away with themselves, Pete began to yank her shirt off-
"Ughhh, get a fuckin' room." came Joe's disgusted voice.
Pete and Hannah's heads snapped up, and they disentangled their arms from each other. There stood Joe, Andy, Mark and Patrick. Hannah threw her head back, laughing hysterically, and Pete joined in. The two of them just lay on the couch, shaking with laughter. Andy rolled his eyes;
"You two are retards." and he turned away, followed by Mark and Joe. But Patrick stood there nervously, fiddling with his cast. Hannah looked up, stuttering a few times before asking;
"Whatsa matter, Tricky?"
"You're, um, bra is showing a bit. Lil bit." he mumbled, looking down.
Hannah glanced down at her chest; the left cup of her bra was in plain sight. She started laughing again, and Pete fixed her shirt. Patrick mumbled something else and walked away. Hannah and Pete calmed down and sat up, cuddling.
"What's with Tricky?" she asked, puzzled.
"I dunno...he's so shy."
"I know, but...never mind." Hannah shook her head.
"So, uh, you wanna go downstairs and finish what we started?" Pete asked slyly.
"You bet I do." Hannah flashed him a devilish grin, and pulled him up by the collar. The two left the livingroom.

Patrick heard their voices from his open bedroom door; Shit. She knows something is up. Then he heard their voices change; Hannah was using that sexy, throaty tone that obviously meant something. Patrick shuddered at the thought and closed his bedroom door quickly so they wouldn't see him as they passed. Patrick was angry. His arm was broken; he could hardly play guitar. It hurt. Joe and Andy we going to the park and throw a baseball around; he couldn't go, obviously. He kicked at the wall of his bedroom and flopped down on his bed with an irritated sigh. He rolled over and yelled into his pillow, "Fuckfuckfuck "
Someone knocked on the door, and Patrick looked up;
"What?" he called irritably.
Hannah poked her head in, and instantly, Patrick was sorry for his angry tone. Her hair was ruffled a bit in the back and.../oh, God, her jeans aren't buttoned up./
"Tricky? Are you okay? I heard a bang."
Patrick nodded and lay his head down on the pillow.
"Aww, Trick, what's wrong? I'm not stupid." Hannah crossed the room to his bed and sat down next to him, rubbing his back.
"I- well...you know when...you want something but the current circumstances just don't allow it?"
Hannah frowned;
"Sure...you mean, like, when you don't have enough money?"
"Yeah, kinda like that."
"Well, what is it that you want, Tricky?"
Patrick was silent for a moment, then decided to lie.
"I want my arm to be fixed so I can play the guitar properly again."
"I heard you playing the other morning!"
"Yeah, well...it hurt like a bitch, lemme tell ya."
Hannah laughed. She rubbed Patrick's back one last time, then patted it twice, leaning down to kiss his cheek.
"Feel better, my Tricky." she murmured, and she left.