Fidelian (fidelian) wrote,

  • Mood:
  • Music:

fic: me pete, you patrick [1/1]

Me Pete, You Patrick
R || ~1,600

Notes: caveman!AU. No, I'm sorry to say that I'm not joking. justtothesea  is completely to blame, she was even adamant about me using the word 'loincloth'. You, my friend, are awesome and have the greatest brain ever. Plus, she drew me toga!Patrick, so.

Here we go.

Pete isn’t that fond of being a caveman, not really. It’s tedious and lonely and, sometimes, freaking dangerous. He doesn’t remember when he was born or how he became alone, but alone he is, roaming through the wilderness, trying to find shelter or protection.

It gets pretty fucking boring, actually.

That is, until he meets Patrick.

Pete has found a great big hole in a mountain wall. He lovingly decides to call it home for a little while, and settles down. It’s dark and moist, but the walls are flat and light, which means that Pete can squash berries and draw the things he sometimes see in his dreams on them. At night, he draws in the dark and in the morning he tries to figure out what they’re supposed to be.

During the day, he grabs his wooden club and goes hunting. He crouches behind bushes, staring at animals he doesn’t have any names for. When they look like they least expect it, he pounces and, being very tiny but scrappy, he mostly surprises the animals so much that it’s an easy kill.

When he’s seated at the edge of the cave one night, he hears the sound of careless footsteps. He has enough meat to last another day or two, but when an animal gets so close, well, he just can’t resist the tumble.

He feels for the club in the dark, finds it and sneaks out into the night.

There, between two large trees, he sees the outline of the animal. He’s pretty surprised to see that it walks on two feet just like he does, but doesn’t think about it twice before bracing himself against the ground and flying through the air. He lands on the animals back, and it shrieks in shock, trying to throw him off. Pete’s having none of it, though, he enjoys the ride for a minute but then he lifts his heavy club and lets it fall onto the animal’s head. It makes a clunking sound, and then the animal sags to the ground, leaving Pete standing straight and breathing heavily.

He can see the animal a little clearer now, and notices that it looks a little like Pete does. Letting his eyes fall on the animal’s middle, he presses a finger into its stomach.

Hmm. It’s softer than he is. Paler, too, as far as he can see. Also, it’s wearing some weird arrangement of leaves instead of fur, even going so far as to placing something leafy on his head. Pete stares at it in bewilderment for a moment. Why would anyone go through that trouble when you can just wrap yourself in a warm and wet patch of animal skin?

The animal’s lips move a little, aimlessly, a bubble of saliva popping. Pete’s heart clenches. Maybe he doesn’t have to eat this creature. He could keep it as his own instead. He could even find it a nice piece of fur to wear.

Yes. He will keep this animal. Pete takes off its leaf hat, folding it carefully and sticking it inside what would be called his loincloth, grabs the animal by its fine hair and starts pulling him along.

After a while, Pete notices that the grass is rubbing most of the leaves off the creature’s outfit. He stops and admires the view for a bit, finds that it makes him a little warm inside for some reason, but hurries off again. He does want some privacy if he’s going to make this animal his own.

After a couple of yards, Pete hears the animal starting to awake, sounding bewildered and as though it’s protesting. Pete jumps a little and lets go of its hair. Then he stares on as the animal opens his eyes a little, mumbles something and takes a swing at Pete’s leg. Pete just hmm’s a little, before letting his club land on the animal’s head once again. It stills immediately, mouth slack and eyes rolling up into its head.

Shrugging, Pete again takes a hold of its hair and continues his trek to the cave.

When they finally reach the opening, the sky has opened up and moonlight is streaming into the clearing. Pete can see the animal clearly now and is completely enthralled.

It isn’t an animal. Really. It’s a… well, whatever Pete is, but he knows that he’s not a simple animal, made to be eaten by someone smarter than him.

This is something completely new, something Pete doesn’t have a name for. He sits next to it for a while, blabbing into the night air, trying out sounds that might fit.

When he’s ruled out Pffft and Ludntrs, the form next to him lets out a content sound during his sleep.

“Paaatrrick,” he yawns and Pete lights up.

“Patrick,” he repeats with difficulty. “Pete.”

The Patrick opens his eyes then, just a little, and looks at him. Then they fly open wide, and Pete gasps. No, don’t run, he wants to tell Patrick, but he has no words, so he just holds up his hands, mumbling nonsense.

Patrick sits up slowly, caressing the back of his head with ginger hands, wincing. He looks very suspicious when he sees Pete, but he doesn’t run. Pete is very glad, because he’s afraid he might damage the Patrick if he gives him one more whack with the club.

Patrick frowns with his hands on top of his head. He looks at Pete and gestures at it, whining. Pete just stares at him in complete confusion, but then he remembers the leafy head thing.

Smiling genially, he pulls it from his loincloth, dusts it off a little, and presents it to Patrick, who rolls his eyes and pushes it onto his head with such force that a couple of leaves float through the air around him. He’s glaring at Pete with wide, unsure eyes.

To completely still Patrick’s fear, Pete holds up one finger, then runs into the cave. He grabs two pieces of raw meat and runs back, stumbling and whooping. When he plops down next to Patrick again, he holds out one of the pieces and looks proud that he’s providing nourishment for his brand new Patrick.

Patrick, on the other hand, takes the meat, sniffs it and throws it on the ground with disdain. Pete, who is biting into his piece with great gusto, stills and follows Patrick’s movement.

What the fuck is he doing with the food?

Pete taps Patrick on the arm to get his attention. Patrick gives it to him. Pete points to the meat, and then his mouth, then rips a big bite out of his own meat.

Patrick frowns and looks disgusted. He taps Pete on the arm instead, and then he grabs, to Pete’s great bewilderment, one of the few leaves that are still covering his body. He looks at Pete expectantly and then pops the leaf into his mouth, chewing happily and swallowing with a great ‘ah,’ even rubbing his tummy.

Pete stares.

Patrick stares back.

They both ignore each other for a while after that, each eating the type of food they prefer. Pete can’t help but to observe Patrick as he eats, though.

And he finds that he’s enthralled once again. Patrick has full and pink lips, big and bright eyes, and the best smile ever. Not that Pete’s ever really seen a smile before Patrick’s, but he knows that he likes it.

When Patrick finally stops picking and eating leaves off his own body, Pete is very warm and focused and the corners of his vision are blurry. He doesn’t know where the urge comes from, but he crawls over to where Patrick is, slides into Patrick’s lap and puts his arms around Patrick’s neck.

Patrick just frowns at him, has no freaking idea what the fuck is going on, but Pete has a vague clue, a desire that forms somewhere deep inside when he looks at Patrick. So he just goes with it, lets his primal urges loose and they do in the form of Pete’s lips on Patrick’s.

There is a wild moment where this is very much natural and oh god, amazing, but then Patrick is pulling away. His pink, full lips are even pinker and fuller than before, and his eyes are wide and confused. Pete cocks his head, as if to ask, “So, what do you think?”

Patrick starts to smile, something Pete takes as similar to, “Fuck yeah. Let’s do that again,” so he does.

They sit out there for a while, kissing and touching and exploring. Patrick makes noises that somehow sound indecent to Pete, his lips getting more and more swollen.

(There is some confusion when Patrick notices that Pete’s hard. Very hard. Could-cut-through-glass hard.

Pete just grunts sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders, but looks pretty embarrassed.

So Patrick does the only thing he can think of; he grabs Pete’s hardness and tries to rub and squeeze it away.

It goes away. After a while. Apparently it was filled with some stuff that needed to come out.

Five seconds later, it is revealed that Patrick has the same problem.

They rub it away together.)

When it gets too cold to be outside the cave, they huddle inside it, wrapped around each other for warmth. Patrick is the first one to drift off, leaving Pete to hum tonelessly and follow Patrick’s soft skin with his rough fingers.

There are a few stray leaves left still sticking to Patrick’s skin, and Pete can’t resist his curiosity. He picks one and pushes it into his mouth.

Hmm. As he chews, he notices that it’s nowhere near as good as meat, but if his Patrick really likes it, he guesses he could give it a shot.

So he falls asleep, half-chewed leaf in his mouth, completely wrapped around the amazing Patrick he has amazingly enough found, smiling for the first time in his life.

Tags: band: fall out boy, fic: oneshot, pairing: pete/patrick, rating: r
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic
    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.