as much as I'd like to say peterick are in a relationship here, I can't say they are. so enjoy the fluff of a relationship that isn't actually a relationship.

also, if anyone was confused, patrick's nickname is lightning.

it's written as:

patrick "lightning" stump

cause he's really fast.

"Lightning's back in black!" Pete hears before a guy with black hair, a nose ring, and a really good jawline claps Patrick on the back.

"Biersack, my man!" Patrick yells before they bro-hug and laugh.

"And you must be Pete Wentz," Andy says, looking at Pete. Patrick laughs at the way Pete's face tenses up.

"I might've mentioned you once or twice. No big deal," Patrick says, shrugging. Andy laughs again.

"Once or twice my fucking ass, Lightning. You're right, though. Kid does look like Charles," Andy ruffles Pete's hair and then turns back to his teammate. "Coach wants us out there in an hour, babe," And then he runs off.

Pete looks at Patrick, arms crossed. Patrick holds his hands up in surrender. "Biersack calls everyone babe. He's straight, though, I swear,"

"Mhm," Is all Pete says. "So where do I get to watch practise from?"

"Where all the wives and girlfriends sit," Patrick tells him, laughing at Pete's scrunched up face. "It's not that bad, babe. They'll probably just pinch your cheeks and call you a cutie," Patrick says.

"Ugh," Pete groans. Patrick kisses his cheek before turning back.

"Sorry, baby, gotta go. Practise starts soon," And then he runs off, one hand holding the snapback he has on, the other making sure his Adidas bag stays on his shoulder.

Pete curses as he finds his way to the stands. Who the fuck knew that hockey rinks were so fucking cold? And if they did, why didn't they tell him?

Which is probably why Patrick's running back towards him, wearing nothing but the skinny jeans he had on when he left. He hands Pete the same black jersey he was wearing when Biersack approached him, kisses his cheek, and then runs back off.

Pete puts it on over his tank top, the warmth from Patrick's body and the scent of him lingering. He makes his way up the stairs to where he finds a group of women that can't be over thirty.

"Oh, honey, you must be Patrick's!" One of the women exclaim, grabbing his hand and ushering him to sit in between her and a blonde bimbo.

"Uh, yeah, that's me," Pete says awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

"You're even wearing his jersey! Maybe our little gay hero is finally going to get married!" She exclaims. Pete doesn't really like all of the wives/girlfriends already and is grateful when the guys get out on the ice. All of them seem to shut up and watch their boyfriend or husband play.

Patrick comes out onto the ice chewing gum. He has a black and yellow jersey on that has a big B on the front and 'Stump 00' on the back.

He's messing with his hair, smoothing it back as he speaks to a guy Pete doesn't recognise. Then he laughs, and Pete realises for the first time in a while just how beautiful Patrick actually is.

His golden hair is sticking up in multiple places, and he's already sweating, which Pete finds impressive.

"Let's go, boys," Patrick yells, smiling at his teammates. Patrick, Pete thinks, looks good doing most things. But he looks fucking great playing hockey.

He's the best one on the team, hands down. He's also the youngest, playing and starting at twenty-eight years old. Pete's proud of him at that.

Patrick gets passed the puck and then fakes the goalie out and makes it in. Andy pats the back of his helmet, cat calling when Patrick makes it.

Pete's not jealous. He refuses to be. There's no way Pete's jealous of a straight guy with a wife out there flirting with his not-boyfriend.

For one, Pete doesn't really have the right to be jealous. He lost that privilege five years ago when he broke up with Patrick twice.

Sure, Patrick may have fucked up, but Pete didn't have to go off and get married. He could've tried trusting Patrick again, right?

Well, Pete doesn't have time to think about it. Mostly because the gasps of the ladies around him. They snap him out of his thoughts, and he looks down to the men.. not playing.

Because there's a player on the ground.

And, fuck, that player is Patrick.

--

"Dammit!" Patrick yells. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!"

"Calm down, please," Pete tries soothing Patrick, running a hand through his hair. Patrick pushes his hand away.

"I can't fucking do anything right!" He screams, punching the wall directly behind the couch. Pete winces at the sound of the impact, and now there's a noticeable hole in the wall.

"Baby," Pete says. Patrick's expression lightens just a little, looking at Pete, eyes filled with tears. "It's okay. The doctor said there's a chance you can still play,"

"Chance, Pete. What kind of player dislocates their knee twice in a five year time period?" Patrick asks. Pete sits down next to him.

"Even if you can't play, I'll still be here. Andy and Joe will still be here. You'll still have us if you can't play,"

"You're the best," Patrick says, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on Pete's lips. When he leans back, he whispers, "Was that okay?" And when Pete nods, he adds, "Can I do it again?"

"I'll kill you if you don't," And then Patrick kisses him again.

Okay, so Pete and Patrick have never.. fucked, to put it lightly. Not before today.

So when Pete's hands start going up Patrick's shirt, Patrick looks him in the eyes and asks if it's okay. Pete dies a little inside, loving the feeling of Patrick actually caring enough to ask before he even touched Pete.

Andy and Joe don't come in. Patrick's a little happy and a little disappointed at the same time. He kind of wanted to hear Andy's smart ass remark about them finally fucking.

He could see it now:

"They finally, after two trillion years, fucked," Joe says, grinning wildly. Andy rolls his eyes.

"Understatement of the motherfucking year, Joey," And then he'd kiss Joe.

soooo yay for updates and peterick fucking finally and I don't know how this is going to play off now

but patrick's knee is re-dislocated so that sucks.