"You look fuckable as hell right now!"

Brendon walked around his best friend to get a look at him from every side. Cream colored pants, light blue button up folded at his forearms, black bowtie, black suspenders, and of course the infamous Pradas. Ryan sort of had a thing for Prada.

"I don't feel fuckable." Patrick stared at himself in the long mirror. "I feel like a school boy in these suspenders. And why don't my pants cover my ankles? Why is my shirt tucked in? And why-"

"Hey!" Brendon grabbed his shoulders to calm him down. "It's fashion. And that's how it's supposed to be."

"No one knows fashion like your Ryan."

"No one knows how to be an asshole like Ryan." He covered his mouth with his hand. "I'm sorry, Patrick. I keep making this about me and it's your day-"

"Its okay, Brendon. I don't mind and Pete isn't here."

"Are you sure?" He slid his hand from his mouth and eyed him warily.

"Of course. You're my best friend. I care about your feelings.

"Girrrrl!" Brendon stretched out the words as he sat on the bed. "Ryan is such a dick!"

"What happened this time?" Patrick sat down beside him.

"You know about the whole thing with me tripping out about Pete, right?"

"Uh huh."

"Well last night Ryan comes to bed hella late. So I'm all, what took you so long? And he's all, stuff. Stuff? Stuff?! He was alone with Pete the entire day almost. What the hell were they doing? How can you not worry about that shit?"

"Because I trust, Pete." Patrick smiled to himself. "And even though Ryan is still a little pissed at me, I trust him too." Patrick turned to face his friend. Placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Ryan loves you, Bren."

"Yeah yeah, but look at Pete."

"I do. All the time. I stare someti-"

"He's successful, hot, smart, sexy, and have you seen that smile?" He sighed dramatically. "And don't even get me started on his chest or his abs. I could write thesis papers on his huge-"

"Brendon!" Patrick elbowed him roughly in his side.

"I was going to say bank account." He rubbed his side gently. "Calm down boy."

"Watch it."

"You don't think Pete ever thinks of Ryan that way?"

"Nope!"

Patrick stood up and grabbed his fedora from the dresser. He placed it on his head carefully. Making sure not to mess up the style Brendon spent so long creating.

"Come on, Pat. Ryan's hot. He has way more in common with Pete. They've known each other for years-"

"That's exactly why it wouldn't work! It's too familiar. It'd be like you and I fucking."

"Wait, you wouldn't fuck me?"

"No, Brendon." He laughed. "You're like my sister."

"But like a sister you'd want to secretly fuck, right?"

"Brendon, this is ridiculous." Patrick turned away from the mirror. "And we have to get going soon. Listen, Pete isn't fucking Ryan. That's all there is to it!"

"Ryan can be really seductive. I hated him when we first met. Now look at us! Having hate sex every few hours."

"That's way more than I needed or wanted to know."

Patrick childishly placed his hands over his ears. Rushing out of the room and away from Brendon. But of course Brendon followed him down the stairs.

"And he has a huge dick!" He yelled after him. "Pete might not be able to resist that!"

Patrick stopped in his tracks. Brendon bumped into the back of him. Not expecting the sudden stop. He turned around to face his annoying friend.

"Pete is a top."

Brendon shrugged. "So is Ryan."

"You are insane if you believe Pete would let Ryan top!"

"Ryan can be really convincing-"

"Ryan is a fucking softy. Pete is all man. He would never let someone who owns a fluffy, purple robe, top. He would never let anyone top! Pete is an alpha-"

"Okay. Okay!" Brendon held his hands up in surrender. "I didn't know you were his fucking asshole's attorney!"

Patrick snorted. "I did get a little carried away."

"It's your birthday, I'll let you get away with it this time." Brendon walked past him and into the kitchen.

Patrick walked in behind him. "Can we just never discuss any of this again?"

"I guess so." He opened the fridge. "So what do you want for your birthday?"

"Did Pete tell you to ask that so he could have it flown in during the day or something?"

"No. I'm asking as your friend."

Patrick laughed. "I know what that means. You didn't get me a gift."

"I totally got you a gift."

"Is it something with your face on it?"

He looked at his feet. "N-No."

"Brendon!"

"Hey! It's the thought that counts. At least I got you something! You didn't even remember your own birthday!"

"How did you-"

"Sometimes I listen to your door."

"Ew, Bren!" Patrick lifted up an apple from the fruit bowl and tossed it at him. "What if we would had have sex?"

"I would have gotten my lotion and prepared for the best." He teased.

"You're fucking gross!" He threw another fruit at him.

"I'm kidding!" He dodged the pear easily. "I'm kidding! That's why I interrupted you before you could get there."

"You interrupt us on purpose?" Patrick gasped.

"Sometimes."

"I hate you!" He chucked. Throwing yet another fruit at him. "Do you know how many dicktunities I've missed out on because of you and your fiance?!"

"Maybe if you weren't so damn loud, we wouldn't feel the need to stop the screaming before it starts."

"Oh and you're quiet?"

Brendon smirked. "Ryan duck tapes my mouth."

Patrick's eyes widened. "Please. Say no more!"

"What can I say?" Brendon walked to the bowl and lifted up a banana. He peeled it slowly. His eyes not straying from Patrick's as he slipped it in his mouth. "I like dirty things."

Patrick cringed. "Please tell me why I'm friends with you again?"

Brendon burst out laughing, almost causing him to choke on the fun shaped fruit. The joyful sound filled the kitchen. Patrick couldn't help but smile in return.

"Because I'm hot." He tossed the banana in the trash on his way to the kitchen door. "Now it's twelve. We have to get-"

A loud thump ended his sentence. Patrick's eyes darted up just in time to see Brendon falling to the floor. He rushed over to his friend. Sighing in relief when be didn't see any blood. He must have just hit his head on-

"Stand up, Pat." The voice was more friendly than menacing.

His cold, blue eyes slid from Brendon to who was standing in front of him. Dressed in all black from their ugly shoes to their uglier shirt. Patrick finally let his eyes meet with theirs. His brain trying to ignore the small gun pointed at him.

"Don't call me, Pat." He wasn't sure why that was his response. He was scared out of his mind right now. Keeping calm was the only defense mechanism his brain had.

"I'll call you what ever the hell I want to." The gun traveled up to his face. Resting between his eyes. "And you can't do shit about it."

"How the hell did you get in here?"

"No time for fun questions." He grabbed his arm. "We have to go."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Bring your ass on." He pointed the gun to the unconscious Brendon on the floor. "Or I'll shoot him in the fucking head."

"Why are you doing this?"

"No time for fun questions." He said again. Yanking the small man towards the front door.