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bandomstuffsit2011-01-01 04:30 pm
stuffitmod.livejournal.com) wrote in bandomstuffsit2011-01-01 04:30 pm
Entry tags:
Light Up: Gift for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
coricomile
Title: Light Up
Author:languisity
Pairing(s): Patrick/Joe
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word count: 1,544
Summary: The first and only time Patrick gets stoned is entirely the fault of one Joseph Trohman.
The first and only time Patrick gets stoned is entirely the fault of one Joseph Trohman. It's not like Joe's guilty about it or anything, though. Especially because it's his idea in the first place.
"Twenty is a nothing birthday," Joe says, like he knows, even though he's still technically nineteen. "You should do something to make it less nothing."
"Nothing happened when I turned nineteen either," Patrick points out, but Joe shrugs. It's an easily patched flaw in his logic.
"You were still riding the high of, like, legality. Eighteen and nineteen are a combined adjustment period. It takes a lot to get used to the fact that you can be tried as an adult for being an asshole."
"But this is illegal," Patrick says, and Joe would stop trying except Patrick said "is", present tense, as if it's something they're already doing and now he's just afraid of getting caught.
They're in Joe's room with the door shut and the window open. There's no one in the house but Joe and Patrick, but he cranes his neck, looking around like he's checking just in case. "There are no cops in my room. There are no cops outside,"
Patrick rolls his eyes at that, but says, "I don't want to smell like it.
Joe grins. "Air freshener," he says. "And, you know, open window. But you won't anyway." He gets up to get the box in his top dresser drawer that he keeps his stash it, and moves to his desk to roll a joint.
When he's finished, Joe inspects it closely. He thinks it's the most perfect joint he's ever rolled, and it's kind of a shame that Patrick probably doesn't know enough to appreciate that, but Joe can live with that. he's content with admiring his own genius.
He turns and holds the joint out for Patrick to see.
"Okay," Patrick says after a long moment. "Hurry up and lets do this."
*
The actual smoking portion goes... well, it goes.
"If this fucks up my voice," Patrick rasps when he's finally done coughing, "I'm fucking you up." Joe would be taking Patrick a lot more seriously if his face weren't what has to be the most delightful shade of rosy pink.
"You're fine." Joe takes his hit, coughing a lot less than Patrick did, and holds out the joint for Patrick to take again. "And it's good for you."
"Things that burn when you inhale them generally aren't good for you," Patrick says.
"I meant good for your soul," Joe says, and that's just great. Now there are about six Oingo Boingo songs vying for the chance to ear worm him. "And if it helps," he adds, just as he sees Patrick start to inhale, "it's not actually the smoke that burns, it's the heat from the smoke."
Patrick holds the smoke for three, maybe four seconds, then exhales in a rush and immediately starts coughing again. Joe thinks he says something in between the coughing, but he can't make it out.
It's just as well, he doesn't think Patrick was saying anything nice anyway.
*
When Patrick and Joe first met, Patrick hit on Joe. The flirting went mostly unnoticed because Patrick wasn't very good at it, and Joe was too busy paying attention to what Patrick was saying than how he was saying it. Nuances were missed.
Upon later reflection, Joe realized there was a lot more arm touching than was strictly necessary for two dudes who just met, platonically discussing music and whether or not whatever band had sold out or was still worth of their devotion. Joe just didn't realize that until a lot later. Like, two weeks later -- Joe blames Pete for skewing his view on appropriate interpersonal behavior -- and even then, they never really talked about it.
That seemed to be all for the best, though. A lot of awkward moments were avoided because of Patrick's lack of game and Joe being obtuse.
Joe doesn't know why he's thinking about that now, except maybe because they're both lying on his bed, and Patrick's left arm is touching Joe's right one. It nice, something grounded and steady underneath the floating, tingly feeling of his high.
"My shoes are here, right?
"What? Yeah," Joe says. Then, again, "What?" Joe props himself up on his forearms, sitting up just enough to look down at Patrick's socked feet.
"I mean, I know they're here, right? They're here they're just not here," Patrick says, and wiggles his toes.
Joe turns his head to look down at Patrick and lasts about two seconds before he starts to laugh. Patrick's expression goes from earnest and confused, to confused and kind of annoyed, but he's altogether too soft focused for Joe to take seriously.
"You mean on," Joe suggests eventually. He's still laughing a little, tiny near-giggles that keep bubbling up, but it's not really because of Patrick anymore. "They're not on. You took them off."
"Right, yeah." Patrick nods to himself a couple of times, then his eyes widen, and he covers his face with his hands. The actions leaves Joe's arm cold where it isn't touching Patrick's anymore. "Oh God. Am I stoned? I think I'm stoned."
"That was kind of the point," Joe says, but it's a little garbled because he's laughing again.
"No. I know," Patrick says, but doesn't uncover his face. "I mean, yeah, but no. I was just thinking that I couldn't feel anything, but then I started talking and it was like, wow. Okay. Okay."
Joe nods. "Okay."
A minutes or a second later, Joe can't tell, Patrick raises his hands up, then lets them drop back down by his sides.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
It takes Patrick a moment or two to respond, but when he does he says, "Can you not be up there? Sitting up there. It's a little--"
"Oh," Joe says, and lies back down. Their arms are touching again. "Sorry."
"Weird," Patrick finishes. "No, it's cool. Thanks."
"Yeah," Joe says. "Anytime."
*
Before Pete and Patrick discovered their man-love, and before they found Andy to provide the sweet beat to keep them grooving forever, there was a lot of Just Joe and Patrick. It was never really like this, though. There was always a part of it that felt almost circumstantial, just a matter of them going through some of the same things and being the same age, but this was different.
There wasn't exactly the deepest symbolism behind getting stoned with one of his best friends on said best friend's birthday, but there's something to be said for liking someone enough to actively choose to be around them when you don't really have to be. When you think there are probably other more interesting and exciting people to be around.
They're post a (relatively) quick snack run to the kitchen, and Patrick is licking the icing from a honey bun off his fingers. It's a little gross, but also kind of hot in a way Joe doesn't really want to examine closer.
"Good stuff?"
"Huh? Yeah," Patrick says, and laughs a little. "Good stuff." He wipes his hands off on his thighs. That's mostly just gross, but Joe's still high enough to ignore it. It's not even like it was really the most disgusting thing Patrick had done. A lot of people still have this supremely misguided idea of Patrick and how he never ever does anything gross or weird, but Joe's pretty sure that's just every-one's lack of desire to see the truth. He isn't exactly stealth about it.
"I kinda want another one," Patrick says, but sounds kind of disappointed at that fact. Probably he's thinking about having to go back down stairs, and then up again.
"Yeah," Joe says, "Me too," because now he really does, but he doesn't think they're making it back downstairs anytime soon.
*
As it turns out, he's right.
Joe doesn't remember falling asleep, but he does remember thinking it was a good idea. Apparently the rest of him thought it was, too, and decided to follow through with the impulse.
He wakes up with Patrick’s arm draped over his stomach, and Patrick's forehead presses against his shoulder like he's hiding. Joe nudges him awake because his shoulder is itching where Patrick's head is pressed against it. He feels bad about it, though.
"I'm awake," Patrick mumbles, almost sounding petulant.
"You don't have to be," Joe says.
Patrick rolls over onto his back and rubs his eyes. "Awesome."
"Good day?" Joe asks after a little while.
"Mmn," Patrick hums. He turns his head to face Joe and smiles, soft and still sleepy, and give Joe the thumbs up.
Joe's counting it as a win.
Author:
languisityPairing(s): Patrick/Joe
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word count: 1,544
Summary: The first and only time Patrick gets stoned is entirely the fault of one Joseph Trohman.
The first and only time Patrick gets stoned is entirely the fault of one Joseph Trohman. It's not like Joe's guilty about it or anything, though. Especially because it's his idea in the first place.
"Twenty is a nothing birthday," Joe says, like he knows, even though he's still technically nineteen. "You should do something to make it less nothing."
"Nothing happened when I turned nineteen either," Patrick points out, but Joe shrugs. It's an easily patched flaw in his logic.
"You were still riding the high of, like, legality. Eighteen and nineteen are a combined adjustment period. It takes a lot to get used to the fact that you can be tried as an adult for being an asshole."
"But this is illegal," Patrick says, and Joe would stop trying except Patrick said "is", present tense, as if it's something they're already doing and now he's just afraid of getting caught.
They're in Joe's room with the door shut and the window open. There's no one in the house but Joe and Patrick, but he cranes his neck, looking around like he's checking just in case. "There are no cops in my room. There are no cops outside,"
Patrick rolls his eyes at that, but says, "I don't want to smell like it.
Joe grins. "Air freshener," he says. "And, you know, open window. But you won't anyway." He gets up to get the box in his top dresser drawer that he keeps his stash it, and moves to his desk to roll a joint.
When he's finished, Joe inspects it closely. He thinks it's the most perfect joint he's ever rolled, and it's kind of a shame that Patrick probably doesn't know enough to appreciate that, but Joe can live with that. he's content with admiring his own genius.
He turns and holds the joint out for Patrick to see.
"Okay," Patrick says after a long moment. "Hurry up and lets do this."
*
The actual smoking portion goes... well, it goes.
"If this fucks up my voice," Patrick rasps when he's finally done coughing, "I'm fucking you up." Joe would be taking Patrick a lot more seriously if his face weren't what has to be the most delightful shade of rosy pink.
"You're fine." Joe takes his hit, coughing a lot less than Patrick did, and holds out the joint for Patrick to take again. "And it's good for you."
"Things that burn when you inhale them generally aren't good for you," Patrick says.
"I meant good for your soul," Joe says, and that's just great. Now there are about six Oingo Boingo songs vying for the chance to ear worm him. "And if it helps," he adds, just as he sees Patrick start to inhale, "it's not actually the smoke that burns, it's the heat from the smoke."
Patrick holds the smoke for three, maybe four seconds, then exhales in a rush and immediately starts coughing again. Joe thinks he says something in between the coughing, but he can't make it out.
It's just as well, he doesn't think Patrick was saying anything nice anyway.
*
When Patrick and Joe first met, Patrick hit on Joe. The flirting went mostly unnoticed because Patrick wasn't very good at it, and Joe was too busy paying attention to what Patrick was saying than how he was saying it. Nuances were missed.
Upon later reflection, Joe realized there was a lot more arm touching than was strictly necessary for two dudes who just met, platonically discussing music and whether or not whatever band had sold out or was still worth of their devotion. Joe just didn't realize that until a lot later. Like, two weeks later -- Joe blames Pete for skewing his view on appropriate interpersonal behavior -- and even then, they never really talked about it.
That seemed to be all for the best, though. A lot of awkward moments were avoided because of Patrick's lack of game and Joe being obtuse.
Joe doesn't know why he's thinking about that now, except maybe because they're both lying on his bed, and Patrick's left arm is touching Joe's right one. It nice, something grounded and steady underneath the floating, tingly feeling of his high.
"My shoes are here, right?
"What? Yeah," Joe says. Then, again, "What?" Joe props himself up on his forearms, sitting up just enough to look down at Patrick's socked feet.
"I mean, I know they're here, right? They're here they're just not here," Patrick says, and wiggles his toes.
Joe turns his head to look down at Patrick and lasts about two seconds before he starts to laugh. Patrick's expression goes from earnest and confused, to confused and kind of annoyed, but he's altogether too soft focused for Joe to take seriously.
"You mean on," Joe suggests eventually. He's still laughing a little, tiny near-giggles that keep bubbling up, but it's not really because of Patrick anymore. "They're not on. You took them off."
"Right, yeah." Patrick nods to himself a couple of times, then his eyes widen, and he covers his face with his hands. The actions leaves Joe's arm cold where it isn't touching Patrick's anymore. "Oh God. Am I stoned? I think I'm stoned."
"That was kind of the point," Joe says, but it's a little garbled because he's laughing again.
"No. I know," Patrick says, but doesn't uncover his face. "I mean, yeah, but no. I was just thinking that I couldn't feel anything, but then I started talking and it was like, wow. Okay. Okay."
Joe nods. "Okay."
A minutes or a second later, Joe can't tell, Patrick raises his hands up, then lets them drop back down by his sides.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
It takes Patrick a moment or two to respond, but when he does he says, "Can you not be up there? Sitting up there. It's a little--"
"Oh," Joe says, and lies back down. Their arms are touching again. "Sorry."
"Weird," Patrick finishes. "No, it's cool. Thanks."
"Yeah," Joe says. "Anytime."
*
Before Pete and Patrick discovered their man-love, and before they found Andy to provide the sweet beat to keep them grooving forever, there was a lot of Just Joe and Patrick. It was never really like this, though. There was always a part of it that felt almost circumstantial, just a matter of them going through some of the same things and being the same age, but this was different.
There wasn't exactly the deepest symbolism behind getting stoned with one of his best friends on said best friend's birthday, but there's something to be said for liking someone enough to actively choose to be around them when you don't really have to be. When you think there are probably other more interesting and exciting people to be around.
They're post a (relatively) quick snack run to the kitchen, and Patrick is licking the icing from a honey bun off his fingers. It's a little gross, but also kind of hot in a way Joe doesn't really want to examine closer.
"Good stuff?"
"Huh? Yeah," Patrick says, and laughs a little. "Good stuff." He wipes his hands off on his thighs. That's mostly just gross, but Joe's still high enough to ignore it. It's not even like it was really the most disgusting thing Patrick had done. A lot of people still have this supremely misguided idea of Patrick and how he never ever does anything gross or weird, but Joe's pretty sure that's just every-one's lack of desire to see the truth. He isn't exactly stealth about it.
"I kinda want another one," Patrick says, but sounds kind of disappointed at that fact. Probably he's thinking about having to go back down stairs, and then up again.
"Yeah," Joe says, "Me too," because now he really does, but he doesn't think they're making it back downstairs anytime soon.
*
As it turns out, he's right.
Joe doesn't remember falling asleep, but he does remember thinking it was a good idea. Apparently the rest of him thought it was, too, and decided to follow through with the impulse.
He wakes up with Patrick’s arm draped over his stomach, and Patrick's forehead presses against his shoulder like he's hiding. Joe nudges him awake because his shoulder is itching where Patrick's head is pressed against it. He feels bad about it, though.
"I'm awake," Patrick mumbles, almost sounding petulant.
"You don't have to be," Joe says.
Patrick rolls over onto his back and rubs his eyes. "Awesome."
"Good day?" Joe asks after a little while.
"Mmn," Patrick hums. He turns his head to face Joe and smiles, soft and still sleepy, and give Joe the thumbs up.
Joe's counting it as a win.
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