FicWad

Thanks for the memories
Smiles on our Faces
A/N: Wow...it's been awhile. Sorry for the wait! I kinda, well, was writing another story for a whole other site and I guess I kinda, sorta, forgot. Please forgive my mind! I hope this is for your liking. Oh, and at the bottom, there is a little thing that I couldn't really fit anywhere else.

"False alarm. It was just a fucking false alarm." Pete said as he threw himself onto the big white fluffy chair. "Braxton Hicks Contractions, why did we not know of this before?"
"I already said I was sorry!" Patrick said as he lowered himself slowly onto the black bench.
Andy, who had just got to Patrick's apartment as the trio zoomed out of the driveway, laughed at the thought of the three idiots trying to get to the hospital. What would they do when they got there to begin with? A loud crash came from the kitchen, and soon after came out Joe holding two sides of a plate.
"I broke a plate." Joe said.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Pete mumbled and continued texting.
Patrick could already tell who the angry man was texting. That blonde bimbo from earlier. His anger was already fuming. Making sure he didn't explode on anyone, he excused himself and lay in his bed of black sheets.
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"It's these substandard motels on the ..." Brendon sang into microphone.
The tone of the room was soft and friendly, the five boys waiting around in the recording room. Pete couldn't help but beam at the wide smile Patrick had across his face. As him, Andy, and Joe worked the recording equipment, the members of Panic! At the disco and Patrick were doing their first ever duet together.
First off he denied Brendon's begs and pleads to have Patrick's voice sampled on their new album, but the more he thought about it, the more he figured that maybe this is what the young man needed to brighten this experience up a bit, and to tell the public they weren't dead yet.
"Lalalalala..." Patrick belted out as if it'd be his last words
Pete giggled to himself. Patrick had such a serious look on his face. His eyes closed in concentration, his hands rubbing against his pants. He looked oddly misplaced among the tight jeans and shirts. A size to big hoodie was thrown over himself, which hid his bump. The cloth running pants with strange hue of green. The only thing that gave any resemblance to the old lunchbox they knew was his black hat with the word 'original' written a crossed it, given to him last Christmas.
"Corner of forth and Freemont street..." Brendon sang.
"Appealing only because their just that unappealing..." Patrick still had his eyes close.
"Any practice catholic would cross themselves upon entering..." Brendon sang, while pointed at Patrick.
Pete shook his head at the immaturity at the younger men. But he had no one to blame but himself. While Patrick was so in the zone with this song, Spencer was making faces at Ryan, who was spitting across the room at Jon, who was doing a little dance at Brendon, who was putting bunny ears on Patrick's head. At least it was calm in here, where Joe experimented with the buttons and Andy's drummed along on the chair. Was he the only sane one...no, that would be Patrick. Patrick was the only sane one in the world to him. Everything that man did seem right, though he couldn't figure out why.
"Wait, wait." Patrick waved his hands.
The band stopped and waited for Patrick to make his announcement. The man slid off his stool, which Andy had brought specially for him knowing standing would hurt him and he would never get out of a chair, and went out of the room. His face was quite red and his breathing was heavy as he pasted Pete. Worried, as usually, he quickly followed, signaling Andy and Joe to stay back.
Outside a cool wind was blowing and the rain clouds were above them. It was now spring and the pollen was everywhere, causing the occasional cough. He found Patrick on the side of the building leaning against it. His head was staring up into the clouds. One hand was resting on his stomach and another on his head.
"You ok?" He asked him.
"I'm fine, just had to catch my breath." Patrick said.
It was then his phone started to ring. He looked down at it, held up his finger for a pause, and answered. It was her, that little groupie he had been relieving pressure on. Sure, she was a dime a dozen, so the least he could do was talk to her every now and again.
"Hey, babe, what's up?" He asked.
He didn't mean it; he never did and never would. The name 'babe' had become so misused and mistreated that it was as simple as 'dude'. But after he said it did he see the look on Patrick's face. He knew that face, it had the word hurt written a crossed it. His eyes met Patrick's, and he could no longer hear anything that girl was saying. Patrick took notice and broke the gaze, swallowing deep and wiping his forehead.
"Hey, actually, I did need to talk to you." Pete told her. "I just wanted to say that you had a good time and all, but I didn't. Don't get me wrong, you are a very nice girl, but not the one for me. So, yeah, I'd appreciate it if you stop calling. Thanks for everything. Bye now, and have a nice day."
Snapping the phone shut, he slipped it back in his pocket and motioned for Patrick to follow him in. True, he normally waited for the girl to get sick of waiting for him to call and dump him, but he felt happy about this. He could hear Patrick waddling behind him, and he could feel the ray of joy beaming off him.
"What were you doing out there?" Ryan asked as the entered. "Making out?"
"Kinky." Brendon took a sip of his water bottle.
***********************
"Breathe...good." Dr. Wells said.
The oak was oddly warm on the cold spring day. The old man had deep wrinkles around his aged eyes. Little white tuffs of hair sprouted in different spots of his head. This was the only doctor, he figured, who would never tell his secret to anyone. With that, Patrick could do nothing but trust him.
He came by every other Monday to check on his progress, but mostly to just have some company. When he first met him at the hospital, Patrick could already tell he was a man of ancient wisdom and knowledge, the doctor studied Patrick for the teaching and not the fame.
"Well, so far so good. Now drop your trousers." Dr. Wells said.
Tile met his bare feet as he jumped off of the oak counter. There was almost no light, because the kitchen was already barely lit and all the blinds were closed. Since there was no door going into the kitchen from the living room, a sheet was placed over instead, just incase one of his band mates wondering eyes wanted a peek on what was happening. Speaking of which, Pete's small frame shadowed on the sheet, and soon his head was seen.
"Can I watch?" Pete asked.
"Well, you'd have to ask Mr. Stump." Dr. Wells motioned to him.
"Pete, I really don't think you want to watch now." He said, his hands still at the tips of his trousers.
Pete, as if not hearing him, walked in and sat himself on the counter across from them. He had a sucker in his mouth, and was twirling it around with his tongue. Hands now off his hips, he waddled over to Pete.
"Listen, he was about to inspect 'down there', so if you don't mind, I'd rather you leave." Patrick said.
"Not like I've never seen it." Pete said, and then blushed.
It wasn't often he saw Pete blush. He was obviously referring to those dreams. It was a few weeks back they had realized that they were having the same dream, in which the world now seemed to have disappeared. He had just realized it had been quite some time since he had dreamed at all. They never talked about it, for it was too weird and odd. But it was the only explanation they could silently conceive in their minds why this was happening.
"Alright, then, you want to watch, watch." Patrick walked back over to the Wells and pulled down his cotton pants.
"Please lift up your sweatshirt, Mr. Stump." Wells asked.
Patrick did was he was told. It was the first time in a long time that he wasn't nervous or ashamed of his body. But, even though he didn't feel out of place, he couldn't bring himself to look at Pete. He didn't want to know what Pete was thinking, what Pete was looking at. He just hoped it was his stomach, and not his exposed member.
After the doctor had finished his inspection, he motioned for him to pull up his pants. It was then Patrick felt alright looking at Pete. Pete, oddly enough, was smiling at him. He wasn't disgusted, or pitied, but a weird look of...pride.
"I shall visit you again next Monday. Otherwise, you are doing splendid." Dr. Wells tipped his hat at him, and left.
"I told you, you didn't have to watch." Patrick awkwardly said.
"No, I'm proud I did. I'll know what I'm in for." Pete said, patting Patrick's shoulder.
"What do you mean by 'what I'm in for'?" Patrick asked.
"For the birth. I'm going to be there, right? Considering I'm the father." Pete said.
"Yeah, you'll be there." Patrick smiled.
Pete opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but turned instead and left. Patrick sighed and leaned against the refrigerator. No matter how hard he tried to not love him, he knew he had fallen head over heels in love. Now there was nothing he could do but wait. Wait for Pete's choice: him or any beautiful girl in the world.
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If, for one moment, he could just see what it would be like to be with that man, to kiss him and love him, this decision would be so much easier. He's been with girls, a lot of girls, and after awhile they all seem the same. The same kiss, the same fuck. He could just pick and choose and they would fall in complete love with him. That was his life.
But...but something was different with Patrick. Something he couldn't put his finger on. It was almost as if he couldn't touch him without him breaking. He was like a glass doll, beautiful but glass. He was a rose, so sweet, but they all have their thorns. He could still feel that punch from a few years back from the argument.
Terrible was what he felt. He always seemed to always run away from these situations, running to his car and fleeing. 'It's you fault!' ran through his head so many times it was driving him insane. He knew that in those dreams, he was to one on top; he knew he was the man in their relationship. Then why couldn't he come to terms with his responsibility.
It was then that he drove past a little store to the side of the road. It had various items for babies, such as cribs and toys. With an idea in his head, he turned into the parking lot with credit card in hand.
After almost an two hours, he pulled back up to the front of Patrick's house. He called for the man to get his butt out here. Instead he got Joe yelling back that Pat was sleeping, and that he should be quiet. So, as quietly as he could, he carried in the box with the crib in it, and the bags with the toys and clothes. It took an hour just to assemble the crib with Andy and Joe's help.
"Alright, guys, I'm in there trying to sleep, but you guys have to quite down...oh...my...god..." Patrick's mouth dropped open when he saw the three men placing on the last knots and bolts in the crib.
"I hope you like it." Pete said. "We can paint it any color you like."
Patrick thanked them all a millions times, and gave them as many hugs as he could. It was easy to tell that the young man had thought of the necessaries needed for the baby.
"I also got you this." Pete held out the bag.
Patrick looked over the stuff, smiling the whole time. He placed the plastic bag on a nearby chair, and then fell into Pete's arms. Pete smiled as he rubbed Patrick's back. Something told him that maybe he was making a decision right now, and that was to take responsibility and actually be the father to this baby, like he had promised so many months ago.
*************************

Lavender, the bath smelled of lavender. It was a pleasant smell and it reminded him of his grandmother. He popped another bubble and sighed. He hadn't felt this comfy in a long time. A little rubber ducky swam by his feet.
"Don't fall asleep in the bath." Andy barged in.
"Andy! Get out!" He yelled and quickly sank farther into the water, trying to hide himself.
Andy opened the closet and searched through it. Throwing q-tips and toothbrushes behind him, he made a mess out of his paradise. He waited a few more seconds, for him to finish, but he obviously wasn't.
"What are you looking for?" he asked.
"A nose hair clipper." Andy said.
"And why are you looking for that?" Patrick asked, picking up the duck and flipping it in the water.
"To clip my nose hair, duh." Andy pulled it out with an exclamation of glee.
With disgust, Patrick offered it to him to keep if he would only leave his bathroom. Andy thanked him and left, happy with his new treasure.
Shaking his head, he lay back down and closed his eyes. Finally after finding a certain peace, there was a loud shouting and Joe running into the bathroom. Patrick quickly sank down farther, covering himself again.
"Why is it you guys would rather pee on the floor any other day, but today you have to run in here every other moment?" Patrick asked.
"Look at what that little prick did to me!" Joe yelled, stumbling over his lisp.
He had to cough back a laugh. Andy didn't want to use the nose clipper to clip his nose, but instead shave off one of Joe's dark eyebrows. He was quite a spectacle now.
"What am I suppose to do with one eyebrow!" Joe asked, bending down by the bath, face to face with to him.
"What you normally do...nothing." Patrick joked.
Suddenly water flew everywhere and Joe was tossed head first into the bath. Patrick had to cough out a series of bubbles and water. Andy stood by the bath now, laughing. Patrick glared at them all, now in a corner of the tub trying to cover himself the best he could. Being the most self-conscious of the group, he couldn't help but feel quite validated now.
"You little..." Joe never finished, because Andy's footing seemed to slip and now he was in the water.
It was quite a marvel how those three grown men could fit in one tub. Patrick growled at them all and tried to find the quickest escape. Andy and Joe were already laughing at each other, ignoring Patrick's fury.
"Get the hell out of my house, get the hell out of my fridge, and get the hell out of my bath!" Patrick finally yelled.
"Lunchbox, come on, lighten up!" Andy punched his shoulder.
"Yeah, dude, it's not like you've got anything we haven't seen before." Joe said, reminding them all they were all men.
"Actually, dimwit, I do. I've got a freaking baby. Do you guy have that in you, no, you don't. So I now expect you all out of my tub, and for your own good, out of my house. You both have homes, so go to them!" Patrick pointed towards the bathroom door.
"What is going on in here?" Pete asked.
Patrick sighed and shook his head. He could already see the glint in Pete's eye. Soon enough, Pete sank into the bath with them. Joe gave him a high five and ruffled Patrick's hair, still quite short from the hospital visit a few short months back. It didn't really tickle his fancy, but he just shrugged it off and laughed as Andy retold the story of how he shaved off Joe's eyebrow single-handedly.

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"Can I touch your stomach?" Joe asked.
"Can you do what?" Patrick asked, looking up from his magazine.
"Touch you stomach?" Joe asked again.
"Why?" Patrick wondered.
"Because whenever a woman is pregnant, you always want to touch their stomachs, so I was wondering if I could touch yours."
"No, it's my stomach, and I'd rather you not touch it." Patrick looked away.
"But I wanna touch it." Joe said.
"Touch Andy's." Patrick sunk deeper into the white chair.
"Touch me and I'll hurt you." Andy said, vigorously playing his game boy.
"Patrick...pleases! Please, please, please!!!" Joe begged.
"No!" Patrick said. He then tried to get off of the chair, but couldn't. He squirmed and wiggled, but nothing was happening. Finally saying, "If you help me up, I'll let you touch it."
"Nah, I don't want to anymore." Joe said.
"Joe!" Patrick yelled.
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." Joe said, and helped him up.
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