This Way You Will Always Know: gift for dapatty

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Title: This Way You Will Always Know
Author: littlblackghost
Pairing(s): Pete/Patrick
Rating: PG13
Warnings: wing!fic, sexual situations, mentions of past depression,
Word count: 5.5k
Summary: Pete feels like his life has fallen apart, and it's up to Patrick to show him that isn't the case.


Patrick's sitting in the corner when Pete wakes up, arms folded and mouth set in a firm line. Pete doesn't even see him at first, but it's no wonder with with amount of alcohol still in his system.

Patrick just watches as Pete groans and pushes the bed sheets from his body. He doesn't get up, just lies there on the top of his mattress, an arm slung over his eyes. He's breathing slowly, like he's finding it hard to do so.

Patrick bites his bottom lip, and he's feeling nervous, because he never thought he'd ever actually have to do this, be in this situation. His stomach is flipping constantly and he's fighting the urge to pull his beanie over his face so he doesn't need to watch.

Eventually, Pete pulls himself out of bed, and Patrick just watches as he slowly stomps to the hotel room's en-suite, right past Patrick without even noticing him sitting in the armchair. Patrick just sits there as he hears the tap running then the toilet flush, and when Pete's confused face peeks out at him, he almost smiles.

“Patrick?” Pete says.

“Hey,” Patrick says quietly, and he even gives his friend a lame little wave.

Pete comes out of the bathroom and he just squints down at Patrick. “Have you been here all night?” He runs a hand through his hair. “What was I drinking?”

Patrick bites his lip again and shakes his head. “No, I've only been here an hour.”

“An hour? Why didn't you wake me?”

Because you looked adorable, a voice says inside Patrick's head, but he buries it away as he says, “You needed your sleep.” He ends it with a shrug.

Pete just looks at his friend strangely, then shrugs. He walks over to the open suitcase on the floor and starts to pull it apart, looking for clothes. Patrick watches quietly until Pete turns to look at him again.

“Patrick,” Pete says slowly, and he twists on his knees to look at Patrick properly. “Do you have wings?”

Patrick bites his lip again (he's going to leave marks by the end of the day, honestly) and he fidgets uncomfortably. “Maybe,” he says, not looking at Pete any more and tugging at the sleeves of his denim jacket.

Pete just sits there staring for what feels like an eternity. Patrick feels very exposed, more so than he ever has – and he sings in front of thousands for a living.

“Am I dreaming?” Pete asks, and Patrick huffs out a tiny laugh.

“No, you're not dreaming,” he answers, and when he shifts again, his wings flutter a little, unhappy about being pressed against the cushions of the chair.

“Okay,” Pete says, and he turns back to his suitcase, pulling out the first pair of pants and shirt he gets his hands on. Patrick doesn't say anything as Pete pulls his clothes on (he has to bite his tongue about the fact Pete hasn't changed his underwear, but now isn't the time).

Pete sits down on the hotel bed to pull on his sneakers, and his face is set in a confused frown. Patrick just watches, trying not to fidget.

“So, are you like...an Angel?” Pete asks, looking up from his laces.

Patrick wets his lips a little, then nods.

“And...you've always been one?”

Again, Patrick nods. He feels very nervous, despite how calm the situation seems to be.

“How did I miss that?” Pete asks, and his mouth quirks in the corners, in that stupid way that Patrick loves.

Patrick stays silent for a few seconds, then clears his throat. He opens his mouth to speak, then stops, closing it again. He's had years to think about what he'd say if this conversation were ever to happen, but now he has no idea what to say.

“Have you always had...wings?” Pete waves a hand.

“Yeah,” Patrick says finally. “I just...they're invisible.”

Pete makes a face and leans back on his hands. His t-shirt rides up a little and Patrick does his best not to look at the inked skin peeking out. “Why can I see them then?”

Patrick blinks a few times, then closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I'm your Guardian Angel,” he says, and when he opens his eyes, Pete's just staring at him with an apprehensive look. “What? I am!” His wings fidget behind him in irritation.

“You're a punk rock Guardian Angel?” Pete says, and he grins like it's all a joke.

Patrick scowls. “Yes, I am.”

“Okay,” Pete says, and he sits up straight. “So, why have I never known this before then?”

“Because you didn't need me before,” Patrick says, and Pete's face drops a little. He looks hurt.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Pete asks hotly. “I always need you, you're my best–”

“No,” Patrick says, and he holds up his hands. “You never needed me to be your Guardian before.”

Pete just looks confused. “I don't get it,” he says.

Patrick rolls his eyes. He wonders if Andy ever had this problem with Joe.

“Pete,” Patrick says, and he leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I know things are bad right now...” He says it in a soft voice, one he usually uses when he's trying to teach Bronx that, no, you're not supposed to paint on Andy's drums, no matter what his daddy tells him.

“I'm fine,” Pete says, and he tries to smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

“No, you're not,” Patrick says. “Or else you wouldn't be able to see my wings.”

Pete frowns again then shakes his head. “This must be a dream, seriously.” He gets to his feet and rubs his eyes harshly. Patrick stands up and walks forward, his wings fluttering behind him, happy to have space movement. He puts his hands on Pete's arms, pulling them down to his sides. Pete just stares at him, eyes confused and searching.

“I know things are bad,” Patrick says again. “And I'm going to help you, okay?”

Pete doesn't say anything, and Patrick sighs. “You're going to be okay, I promise. It won't be like last time.”

Pete's eyes flash then, something fearful behind the iris. His arms tense a little, as if he's about to run from what Patrick's trying to tell him. Patrick just tightens his grip, but he doesn't say anything else.

They stand there, just staring at each other for what feels like the longest time before Pete hangs his head says, “Promise?” It's barely audible, and it feels like a punch to Patrick's gut.

“I promise,” Patrick says, and he pulls Pete close, wrapping his arms, and wings, around him.

*

They collect Bronx an hour later, once Patrick has managed to convince Pete to at least grab a bagel for breakfast, and has stopped him from trying to grope at Patrick's wings. Pete keeps just staring at them, and it's making Patrick feel a little uncomfortable, because there is a huge difference between thousands of screaming girls watching you, and Pete Wentz staring at you. A huge difference.

Bronx squeals happily and jumps out of his minder's arms as soon as Pete and Patrick climb out of the taxi cab. There's a warm sensation in Patrick's chest as he watches the smile spread across Pete's face as he swings his son up into the air, spinning on the spot a few times before stumbling against Patrick, who can't help but grin a little.

They find a little coffee shop not long after, with a small play park nearby. As they buy their coffees (and a juice for Bronx, no matter how much he whines he wants Patrick's latte), Patrick can't help but feel nervous. Normally the band won't go out without a minder of their own, but Patrick promised Bob they'd be okay, and he'd call if they were followed by any ravaged fangirls, foaming at the mouth at the sight of Pete Wentz with his kid.

Pete and Patrick settle down on a park bench as Bronx dives head first into a sand box. Pete smiles and ducks his head, before frowing.

“Hey,” Patrick says, and he cups his gloved hands around his latte. “What's wrong?”

Pete sighs and shrugs. “I just feel sorry for the kid.”

Patrick almost scoffs. “Why?”

“He's got me for a dad?” Pete says, and he looks up for a second, just meeting Patrick's eyes before he looks away again. “I couldn't even get his mom to stay with me, and now he's gonna grow up with two different zip codes and a weekend dad.”

Patrick just stares at Pete for a few seconds, and swallows. For a second, he doesn't know what to say, or how to reply to what Pete's just told him. Eventually, he says, “Pete, Ashlee...that wasn't you, okay? Sometimes things just...don't work out. That wasn't your fault.”

Pete laughs sadly, and he looks up to see Bronx climbing a small slide. “Yeah? I'm pretty sure those pictures in the papers didn't help much.”

Patrick bites the inside of his cheek. “Okay, so maybe you could get a little wild, but...you just...you guys rushed into everything, you said it yourself. If it's your fault, it's hers too, okay?”

Pete doesn't say anything, just chews on his bottom lip.

“And Bronx has a great life ahead of him,” Patrick continues, and takes a sip of his coffee. “And you're not a weekend dad, you know Ash won't do that. You're gonna be in his life as much as she'll be, and he's gonna grow up amazing. Maybe a little off centre, but hey, what can you do?”

Pete lets out a giggle and nudges Patrick's knee with his own. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Maybe you're right.”

“Of course I'm right,” Patrick says, and he lifts his cup to his mouth. “I'm an angel.”

*

They spend the afternoon back at the hotel, and Patrick sticks as close to Pete as he can. This isn't anything out of the ordinary, because Patrick is used to having to keep an eye on Pete, even when he doesn't need to. This time however, he it's part of his job.

Sometimes Patrick finds it difficult to differentiate his human life from his angelic life. They're both so morphed together that he doesn't know where one ends and the other starts. He's being doing this for a long time, and Pete is far from being his first ward, but it's a little more difficult this time around.

It's a pretty simple job, in reality – Patrick gets to live a full human life in the presence of his ward, as one of their family members, or a friend, and he spends his time looking out for them as well as maintaining his own human existence. At the end of his ward's life, Patrick reincarnates into his next life with his new ward. He's never really had that much trouble with his charges, the odd breakdown and maybe a suicide attempt or two, but he's never lost one and he's quite proud of his track record.

However, Pete Wentz...well, he's a whole different story altogether. Patrick isn't sure what it is about Pete, but Patrick's never felt like that about any other ward. He isn't even sure what it is he feels, but it's more intense than Patrick has ever felt in any of his lives. With every other charge, Patrick has always been able to maintain some form of life of his own – friends of his own, a job, hobbies, normal human things. But with Pete...Patrick just can't. It's the reason he even joined the band, because everything just revolves around that strange dark haired man. When they're off tour, Patrick spends most of his time at Pete's and when he's not there he doesn't know what to do with himself. Andy laughs at him, and says he's seen this all before with Spencer and that hyperactive ward of his, but Patrick just scowls and ignores him because it's nothing like Spencer.

There's just something about Pete that throws Patrick, and it's been screwing up his duties for years now. This is the first time that Patrick has had a habit of forgetting to check in with his superiors, and the first time he's actually had to remind himself why he's here. When he wakes up in the morning, all he can think about is seeing Pete, and it's confusing he hell (Heaven?) out of Patrick.

He's dragged from his thoughts when a small weight in the shape of a cherub looking child climbs onto his lap. Patrick smiles softly as Bronx grins up at him, curls bouncing as he grabs onto Patrick's shirt to steady himself.

“Whoa,” Patrick says, holding onto Bronx and settling him down in in his lap. Bronx just smiles and hugs onto Patrick, who hugs him back. From the corner of his eye, he can see Pete watching them, curiously.

*

For dinner the whole band and crew end up at some family restaurant. There's a huge soft play area, and Bronx squeals as soon as he sees it. Of course, Bronx doesn't finish his food before he's jumping into the ball pit, but Patrick knows Pete isn't going to scold the him for it. Really, Pete would let that kid away with murder, Patrick is pretty sure.

It's when Bronx is giggling and jumping around in the brightly coloured plastic balls that Patrick catches that look on Pete's face. It's a look Patrick hates, and it means the wheels and cogs in Pete's head are turning too quickly and out of beat.

“You okay?” Patrick asks, scooting along the booth a little. He keeps his voice low so that no one around them can hear. They're a pretty open little family, the band and crew, but still.

Pete nods, then leans his elbows on the table. He watches Bronx for a few seconds before he sighs and looks down at the plate in front of him.

“I don't wanna do it again, 'Trick,” he says in a small voice, and Patrick's stomach jerks.

“Do what, Pete?”

“Fuck up?” Pete looks up, briefly meeting Patrick's eyes before staring back down at his untouched food.

“Pete,” Patrick starts, but Pete shakes his head.

“I know, I know, you've got faith in me or whatever,” Pete lets out a sigh. “I just...I don't think I do.” He looks up again as Bronx giggles loudly. “And I'm gonna screw it all up for him too.”

Patrick bites his lip and stays silent. It's not his time to speak, it's Pete's.

“I'm trying not to fall, I really am, but I feel like something is just pulling me down. It's like there's nothing holding onto me any more, nothing needing me.” Pete leans back in his seat and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I feel like I can't hold on.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “Everything's just falling apart, and I don't know what to do any more.”

Patrick doesn't say anything for a while, just sits there watching as Pete rubs his eyes. Eventually, he just reaches out and puts a hand on Pete's thigh. Pete pulls his hands away. His eyes are red and he just stares back at Patrick, like he's already given up.

“You're not falling,” Patrick says in a low voice. “But if you do, I'm going to catch you.” He pauses and squeezes Pete's leg.

“With your wings?” Pete almost smiles, but not quite.

Patrick hums. “I don't need to be an angel to know how amazing you are, Pete.”

Pete frowns, but doesn't say anything.

“Pete...you save people's lives with your music. You're a lyrical genius, and you're so smart. Your brain just tells you so many different things, and I know you feel like your fighting a losing battle, but you're really not.” He pauses and gives Pete the smallest smile. “Your son is the luckiest kid on this planet. Just because one part of your life didn't work out how you wanted it to, it doesn't mean it's all over. I know you wanted things to work out with Ash, but...the things that are for you won't pass you by. Believe me, I know it's true.”

Pete bites his lip and just watches Patrick.

“You take things too hard,” Patrick says, and he realises he's still holding onto Pete's thigh. He pulls his hand away and sets it on his own lap, staring down at it for a second. “I know you just want to be perfect, but your perfect as you are.” He looks up at Pete who's still staring at him. “You're the most talented ward I've ever had, and you're braver than you think. You won't get that bad again, I won't let you.”

Pete smiles a little and shakes his head. He's silent for a few seconds, before he asks a question that Patrick isn't expecting. “How many wards have you had?”

Patrick cocks his head a little. “A few.”

Pete looks up at raises an eyebrow. “And there was me, thinking I was your one and only.” He smirks a little, and Patrick's stomach flips.

“You are now...” Patrick says in a small voice, and he twists his hands in his lap.

Pete doesn't say anything else, and soon enough there's a burst of laughter from Andy as Joe topples backwards and off his chair.

*

Pete in the games arcade when Patrick hears Bronx crying. He's still sitting at the table, texting Spencer when he looks up and sees Bronx. The little boy is sitting just a little away from a climbing frame, and he's cradling his knee and sobbing. The whole play area is padded and safe, but he's rocking back and forward a little as he holds his knee, tears streaking down his rosy cheeks.

Patrick's out of his seat in a second, his cell phone abandoned on the table and he's on his knees and pulling Bronx into his lap in a heartbeat. The kid goes easily, and pushes his face into Patrick's t-shirt as he cries.

“Hey,” Patrick says, and he rubs the red mark on his knee. “What happened?”

“Fell,” Bronx says wetly, and he just hugs himself close to Patrick.

Patrick settles on the padded floor and just holds the little boy in his lap. Not too tightly, but just enough that he knows it'll calm him. He's done this a million times, and he knows what he's doing. It's like it's part of his routine now – he doesn't just look after Pete, he looks after every thing about Pete. In fact, it doesn't even feel like part of his job, if he's honest – Patrick's pretty sure he'd do anything for Pete anyway.

It's that thought that strikes Patrick in the gut, and he has to pause for a second to catch a breath. He knows he's infatuated, he's know it for a while now, but he thought that was all just part of Pete's deal. Everyone loves Pete Wentz. Heck, even if you hate Pete, you love him. But for Patrick...well, it seems like it's just that little bit more, and that's what's scaring him now. If he's honest, he's known for a while – everything in his relationship with Pete, it isn't based on the usual Angel/Ward guidelines, or the way Patrick's looked after every other person before Pete...there's more there, and now that Patrick needs to be the Angel part of him, it's getting more difficult to ignore that dove that's fluttering around in his chest.

Bronx sniffs loudly and pulls Patrick out of his thoughts. He starts to get to his feet, holding Bronx close to his chest, and he sees Pete standing a few feet away. He's just watching them with curious eyes, but he snaps out of it and quickly walks over, taking Bronx into his arms.

“He, uh, hurt his knee,” Patrick clears his throat.

Pete looks down and whispers something into Bronx's ear, before he smiles up at Patrick and walks back to their table.

*

It's a little late when they get back to the hotel, and Patrick's just about to make his way back to his room when Pete grabs his wrist. Patrick looks back at him and frowns.

“Uh, just wait,” Pete says, and he's carrying a half sleeping Bronx against his chest.

“You okay?” Patrick asks, panicked that he's missed something.

Pete nods. “Just...wait a sec, yeah?”

Patrick bites his lip and nods. There's a nervous feeling building in his stomach, and he's worrying that something bad is about to happy. He normally has good intuition about this when it comes to Pete (like that time with the bus roof and the skateboard and the fact he only just caught Pete before he went off the side), but right now he can't get a vibe on what's going on.

Patrick stands by his room door and watches as Pete takes Bronx into Andy's room. He frowns, because he doesn't understand why Pete's not taking him into his own room. Pete reappears a few minutes later, closing the door quietly behind him.

Patrick opens his mouth to speak, but Pete shakes his head and grabs Patrick's wrist before he leads him towards his room. Patrick goes silently, his heart racing in his chest.

They get inside Pete's room and Pete closes the door quietly, as though Bronx will hear it from all the way down the corridor. Patrick almost says something, but he stops when he sees the soft look on Pete's face.

They stand in silence for a few minutes, and the air feels static. Patrick shuffles his wings behind him, and he can't help but blush at the way Pete's eyes widen as he watches.

“Man, I'll never get used to them,” Pete says quietly.

Patrick tries to stop fidgeting. “You okay?”

Pete drags his eyes away from the wings to look Patrick in the face. “Yeah,” he says slowly, and he brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. It's something he does when he's thinking, something he does when he's sizing up his options. “I just...it's always you, isn't it?”

“What?” Patrick asks.

Pete sighs, and he runs his hand through his hair. “It's just...it's always been you, right? You always fix things.”

Patrick shakes his head, confused. “I don't...I don't know what you mean, Pete.”

Pete sighs again and he takes a few backwards steps then falls back onto his bed. He stares at the ceiling as he talks. “Since I met you, it's always been you. You always fix everything, and I never saw it before. You always make things better, no matter what's going on.”

Patrick pulls his hat from his head and twists it in his hands. “It doesn't work like that Pete, it's not--”

“But it does! You just...even when we were kids, 'Trick, you always saved the day, like fucking...Superman or something.”

Patrick snorts a little, but he doesn't say anything and puts his hat back on. He always feels a little insecure without it. He watches as Pete leans up on his elbows.

“Is that just an Angel thing though?”

Patrick's stomach flips and he tries to speak, but he finds that he can't.

“I mean...” Pete continues. “Everything you do, it's just because your my Guardian Angel, right?”

Patrick blinks a few times, and even though it's a lie, he nods. “Yeah, I. I'm your Angel, I. Yeah.”

Pete watches him for a few seconds, then pushes himself up and off the bed. He walks over slowly, and stops in front of Patrick.

“All the time?” He asks in a quiet voice, and Patrick can't tear his eyes away from the soft stare in Pete's face. “Everything you do for me, it's because it's your job?” There's a trace of hurt in his voice, and it aches away at Patrick's chest. He feels his wings lower, trying to wrap themselves around his body.

“Pete...” Patrick tries, but Pete cuts him off.

“Is this your job, or do you care about me?” He asks, and he puts on hand on the side of Patrick's neck.

“Of course I care about you,” Patrick says, a slight whine in his voice that he tries to fight off. “Just because it's my job, doesn't mean I don't--”

“Forget about your job,” Pete says, and he rubs his thumb against the skin of Patrick's neck. “Forget about...what, Heaven? Wherever the fuck it is you come from...just...do you care, or is it just your duty?”

Patrick blinks, and it's bubbling up in his chest, his answer, the truth, but he just can't say it. Instead, he looks away, staring down at the space between their chests.

“Because,” Pete says, and he pulls his hand away. “I want you as you, not as an Angel.”

Patrick looks up, eyes wide and worried. He's never had this before, a conversation like this. He doesn't normally need to reveal himself to people, he's not prepared.

“You look after me, you look after this band...fuck, you even look out for my kid,” Pete says and he rubs at his face. “I can't believe I never realised before...” He looks at Patrick and his eyes are shining bright. “Is it your job, or is it real, 'trick?”

Patrick just stares back at Pete for what feels like the longest time. He doesn't remember moving, or even breathing, but suddenly his leaning forward and his mouth is meeting Pete's.

There's an intake of breath, and it's Pete. He just stands there, unmoving. Patrick pulls back a few seconds later, and he feels like he can't breathe, like all the air in the world is just gone, and he stares at Pete.

“It's real,” Patrick says finally. “It's not a job, not to me. It's real. Everything. The band, you...everything. I do it all because I...because it's real.” He takes a tiny breath and closes his eyes.

There's nothing but silence and it's almost deafening. Patrick's about to wrap his wings around himself, just hide from the world, but he doesn't get a chance to before Pete's pressing their mouths together once again, this time bringing his hands up to cup Patrick's face.

Patrick holds back a whimper, and he places his hands on Pete's chest so gently. They stand like that for for a while, lips moving so softly and slowly, and Patrick feels like he could spend the rest of eternity like that. There's a fluttering flowing through his veins, and he's never felt like this before, not in any of his lives.

Pete pulls away and Patrick just stares at him. Pete smiles softly, and says, “For real?”

Patrick nods, and lets Pete take him by the wrist and pull him back towards the bed. They sit down and Patrick can't take his eyes off Pete. This seems to be having a strange reaction, because Pete's cheeks are blushing, something that doesn't happen often.

Patrick can't stop himself from leaning forward and kissing Pete again, because it turns out that the flipping feeling in his stomach enjoys kissing Pete a lot more than anticipated. If Patrick's completely honest, kissing Pete Wentz is completely different from any other kiss he's ever had – it's the same in that a kiss is a kiss, but it's just different. It feels like nothing else in the universe.

Pete whines, and he kisses back with a passion that almost throws Patrick completely, but he just goes with it and takes Pete's face in his hands. Pete leans back and before Patrick realises it, he's between Pete's legs with Pete's hands holding onto his shirt tightly.

Now, Patrick's no virgin (of course not, he's lived more lives than a cat), and he knows Pete, so he knows where this is going. And that kinda scares him. He pulls off a little, and he's panting, leaning over Pete who's watching him with wide eyes.

“We shouldn't—” Patrick says, but Pete cuts him off.

“Can we?” Pete swallows, and there's a desperation in his eyes that hurts Patrick's very bones. “I just...please?”

Patrick stares down, and there's a battle raging in his head. They shouldn't, he knows they shouldn't, because they should talk, they shouldn't be rushing into things. Patrick is an Angel, he shouldn't be doing this with Pete, he shouldn't even have these feelings. They should be talking about this, Patrick should be talking to Andy, or Spencer, or someone, should be trying to see sense. But it's no use, not with the way Pete's staring up at him. He's got that look in his eyes, the look he gets when Patrick just knows he needs saving, knows he needs Patrick. Even if it's too fast, if it feels like it shouldn't be happening, Patrick knows he'll always do anything for Pete, he'll always try to save him.

Patrick doesn't say anything, but he leans down and fits their mouths together again. The kiss is slow, intense, and Patrick's so lost in it that he doesn't feel as Pete begins to pulls his hat off, then start tugging at Patrick's shirt. Patrick doesn't stop him, just goes along with it, and he helps Pete to pull off his own shirt until their both topless and pressed against each other.

Now, Patrick's did this before, not too many times, but a few (he's never been one to care about gender), and he knows Pete's...well, Pete.

It's almost in slow motion as Patrick feels Pete pull at his belt buckle. His heart is racing so fast, and his wings are practically shivering as he does the same, his fingers tracing the ink on Pete's skin. They don't speak, just share small, gentle kisses as they work their way out of their clothes. It's almost impossible for Patrick to feel insecure, even though he knows he should. There's just something about Pete that makes Patrick...he doesn't even know. Calm. Secure.

Pete wraps one hand around the back of Patrick's head and pulls him closer to kiss him, wrapping his other hand around his cock as it rubs up against Pete's stomach. Patrick huffs out a tiny moan and steadies himself above Pete and kisses him hungrily. They stay like that, Patrick's hips moving slowly, thrusting gently into Pete's hand. Patrick manages to slip his own hand between them, and he takes Pete in it, trying to match Pete's movements, trying to get the right rhythm. His wings form a half cocoon around them, almost holding Patrick up.

They move slowly, hands tensing and and lips moving. Patrick moves his mouth to Pete's neck, and he shudders as Pete moans against his shoulder. They stay like that for a long time, and Patrick is sure he could stay like that forever, the electricity shocking through his veins like he's never felt before.

Soon, Pete's hips start to stutter and Patrick kisses him through it, all tongue and harsh breaths. He ignores the mess as he feels himself start to build up, Pete's hand on the back of his neck getting tighter and tighter. He doesn't scream out, though he wants to, and it's more of a muffled yell against Pete's mouth, like Pete's sucking the very sound from his throat. He collapses down against Pete, his face pushed into his shoulder, just breathing. They don't move, just lay there as Patrick's wings wrap around them both.

*

When Patrick wakes up, he's in Pete's bed. For a split second he's confused as to how he got there, until he remembers and sits up suddenly. He stares at the room, at his clothes on the floor, and his heart starts racing, and he doesn't know what to do–

“Hey.”

Patrick looks down, and Pete's lying there beside him. His eyes are tired, like he's just woken up, and he's watching Patrick.

“Hi,” Patrick swallows. He doesn't know what else to say.

“Are you going to leave?” Pete asks, and Patrick frowns. “Did...did I mess things up?”

There's a pain in Pete's voice and Patrick almost shouts, “No! No, you didn't...I shouldn't have—”

“But you wanted to?” Pete asks, and he pushes himself up.

Patrick stares at Pete for a few seconds before he says quietly, “Yeah. I did.”

Pete nods, then stares at the sheets. “Where are your wings?”

Patrick frowns, then he shuffles his wings. There still there. “You can't see them?”

Pete shakes his head. “I screwed up, didn't I?”

Patrick's confused. He doesn't understand.

“I shouldn't have made you--”

“You didn't make me do anything, Pete,” Patrick says, and he shifts around to face Pete. He reaches out one hand and takes Pete's chin in his hand, raising it to meet his eyes.

“Well why are your wings gone?” Pete asks. “Did they take them? Who would take them anyway? Is this because of the dude thing? Because—”

“No one took my wings,” Patrick almost laughs, and he shuffles them again. “I still have them, you just...you can't see them.”

Pete frowns, and he reaches out. He bats at the air behind Patrick's back. “I can't feel them.”

Patrick just stares at him for a few seconds before something pings in his chest. It's almost overwhelming, and despite the fact he's been here before, now it's with Pete, it feels completely different.

“You don't need to,” Patrick clears his throat. “Because you don't need to see them.”

“Why?” Pete asks. “Have I got you in trouble? Because I'll explain, it wasn't your fault, it was me, I--”

Patrick shakes his head and Pete shuts up. “You can't see them, because you don't want to.”

Pete makes a face. “What? Of course I do, they're awesome, I--”

“You said you don't want me to be an Angel,” Patrick says, and he stares down at the ink that stains Pete's skin. “You want me to be me.”

Pete doesn't say anything, just takes a deep breath.

“I'm still an Angel,” Patrick says, and he looks back up. Pete's watching him with worried eyes. “But you don't need an Angel.”

Pete just stares for what feels like the longest time before he says, “I just need you.”

Patrick doesn't say anything, but as he closes his eyes he feels Pete's lips on his own.