Patrick felt uncomfortable. This must be what it felt like to be a puppy in the window. Having someone just standing there, stare at you. Deciding if they wanted you or if they were going to just leave you there. And he hoped Pete wanted him. Not because he wanted him too. But because he really really needed that fifty thousand dollars.

"Do I know how to pick 'em or what?"

"What." Pete glanced at Ryan briefly before turning his intense stare back on Patrick.

"I said, do I know how to-"

"No. I heard you." He circled around Patrick. Patrick tried not to squirm. "What do you do, kid?"

"I'm a painter."

"What's your last name?"

"Stump."

"No, your real last name." Pete smirked.

"Because Wentz is a fucking prize winning last name, right?" Patrick lifted his chin.

"It's worth billions." Pete smirked.

"Still a stupid name." He muttered.

"Okay, Mr. Stump. I've never heard of any of your paintings."

"Your loss."

"Ah, so you're the starving artist type then?"

"I'm not starving."

"You're a freelancer."

"You could say that." Patrick huffed in agitation.

He'd already had this painful conversation too many times with his parents. He was tired of people criticizing his job. He loved to paint and he would continue to do it. At least he wasn't one of those people who hated their job. He'd rather go broke doing what he loved everyday. Than be rich and hate going to work every morning.

"Ryan, you know I hate the starving artist type." Pete looked back at his friend.

"Pete-"

"You know what?" Patrick snapped, interrupting what Ryan was saying. "I hate the rich, stuck up, snobby asshole type. So I guess we won't like each other. But you need a gay boyfriend and I need fifty thousand dollars. We don't have to like each other to do the jobs we need to do for each other. I'm not going to stand here and be berated by you. So either you want me, or you don't."

"I don't." Pete said simply. Patrick's eyes widened. He wasn't expecting that.

"He does!" Ryan jumped up from his spot on the desk to stand between them. "Pete, listen, Gerard will love this guy."

"I don't want to deal with some starving artist with a bad attitude."

"And you won't have to. You'll only see each other in public. When he's here, I'll make sure you two don't even cross paths. This is a big house-"

"Here? He's not living in my house!"

"He has to, Pete. You don't think the paparazzi will notice you two going home to different houses every night? You're supposed to be in love."

"Ryan, I'm not happy with this decision."

"You don't have any other choice."

Pete crossed his arms over his broad chest. Focusing on Patrick again. This time Patrick stared back at him with the same contemplating expression. Both staring into each other's eyes. Daring the other to blink first or look away. Ryan stood to the side, watching the uncomfortable interaction.

Finally, Patrick blinked. Silently cursing himself. Pete uncrossed him arms and took a step back. Proud for winning the stare down. Ryan was right. Gerard would love Patrick. The public would love him. He didn't have much of a choice. Looks like he was getting a new housemate.

"Fine. Get his things from his apartment and bring them back here." Pete dug into his pocket and pulled out a slick, black wallet. And then he pulled a shiney, black card from it. "And then go shopping." He held it up to Patrick. Patrick reached out for it and Pete pulled his hand back. Placing the card in Ryan's waiting palm. "Please make sure he looks presentable when he comes back."

"I can shop for my own clothes." Patrick muttered.

"I can see how you dress yourself." Pete gave him a once over and frowned. "And I am not impressed."

"I didn't dress for your approval-"

"Well now you do." He cut him off. "And I'm not going to be walking arm in arm with you while you're dressed in Walmart's finest."

"I'm not dressed in Walmart-"

"Shut up." He said sternly. Patrick bit his tongue. "Make sure he's dressed well."

Pete turned away from them and walked back over to his desk. Patrick wanted to hit himself when he caught his eyes drifting towards the man's backside. Ryan tugged at Patrick's arm. Pulling him out of the office with him.

"Go get your shoes and hat. I'll meet you downstairs."