Pete has to work again the next day. He shows up twenty minutes late and didn't bother to wear proper work attire, instead sporting a black and green hoodie, grey skinnies, god awful purple sneakers and a disposable coffee cup clutched in his hand. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, his hair disheveled, and probably reeks like roadkill but he doesn't give a damn. His coworkers all stare, their faces varying from concerned to 'what the fuck' and Pete still doesn't care.

He avoids Joe, Jon, and Ryan like the plague and stays away from the evidence lab. Pete wants to duck and dodge every human being there, except for one.

Pete heads straight to the holding cells, tossing his now empty coffee cup into a passing trash can. When he finds the cell he's looking for he finds that Patrick is sitting in a corner on the far side, sleeping. Patrick looked as exhausted as Pete felt.

Pete stood in front of the bars and watched Patrick for a moment before calling out his name.

"Paaaatty." Pete smiles to himself. "Wake up, Pattycakes."

There's silence. Pete's just about to call the boy's name again until he hears Patrick groan.

"Don't call me that." He says, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. Patrick gets up and shuffles over to Pete, wrapping his hands around the bars. "Jeez Pete, you look like shit." He says upon examination.

"Gee thanks, Lunchbox." Pete says sarcastically.

Patrick blinks at him a few times. "Did you just call me a lunch box?"

"No, I didn't call you a lunch box. I called you Lunchbox."

Pete smirks when he sees Patrick's cheeks flush pink. It's the most innocent thing he's ever seen him do. Patrick quickly changes the subject.

"What...what are you doing here, shouldn't you be at your desk or something?"

"Yeah but I'm here for a different reason." Pete says. "There's going to be a trial, okay, and you're going to be taken to court."

Patrick nods.

"When they ask 'how do you plead' you say 'insanity' or whatever, that way you'll get less time and won't be put in prison." Pete says as though it were that simple.

"But then I'll be put in a mental hospital."

"Yes, true, but I hear they're not that bad."

Patrick huffs. "Pete, I-"

"Whoa, wait!" Pete interrupts. "I've got a better idea." And as soon as the words leave his lips he disappears down a hall.

Now Patrick was kind of confused and thought that maybe Pete has lost it.
Then suddenly an alarm sounds off, screeching through Patrick's ear drums. He places his palms over his ears to try and suppress the sound. Pete returns seconds later with a cell key between his fingers, unlocking the door and letting Patrick out. The man yells something but Patrick only saw the movements of his lips.

"What?!"

Pete realizes that Patrick's hands are still over his ears and rolls his eyes, grabbing his wrist to pull his palms away from the sides of his head. Then he digs into his pocket and pulls out his personal ring of keys, unwinding a silver one from the keyring and handing it to Patrick. It's his house key.

"Everyone is going to evacuate out the back of the building." Pete shouts, then points in the opposite direction. "Follow this corridor and you'll find a separate exit, no one'll be back there." Patrick looks over his shoulder then down at the key in his palm. When he looks up at Pete he's smiling at him, showing off his big white teeth. Pete's never smiled at Patrick like that before. Why now?

"Be careful. See you when I get home, 'Trick." Pete plants a quick kiss on Patrick's cheek then turns down the hall toward the back exit, running towards the evacuation area.

Patrick's skin feels tingly like sparks were flying off the surface, but Patrick can't stand there and think about how Pete just kissed him right now; he has to get the hell out of there. Patrick sprints the other way, clutching the key tightly in his fist, and presses through the double doors and into the outside air. He doesn't look back and just keeps moving forward although Pete's apartment is twenty minutes away, forty-five by foot. But he continues on despite the fact.

He gets there in twenty-seven minutes, unlocks the front door and steps inside, collapsing onto the couch. His skin still feels electrified from earlier and, well if Patrick was being honest with himself, he wanted it to stay that way. Although his cheek felt warm, he blamed it on his face turning beet red.

Patrick takes the kiss as a sign that Pete meant it when he said he cared.