The Wrong Side Of Never
Pete/Patrick, Jon/Spencer, various others.
R/NC-15. Not extremely detailed or anything.

~ 25,700 words.

This is a kidfic AU that extends into the college era. I would like to note that I have no idea what goes on in colleges and that yes, I know that college kids typically drink alcohol before they are 21. I just can't. write. that. I am a horrible person who follows the law. Uhm. Anyway.

This fic is based on a book called Summer Sisters by Judy Blume. You really, really don't have to read the book to understand any of this, but I highly reccomend the book after you read the fic.

I would also like to thank melish for betating this for me, perfectionists for putting up with my rambling and, "I MADE ANOTHER THOUSAND WORDS." every few hours, and to inspiredbyrossx and drug_bust_red for the hand-holding and encouragement.



Prologue (pt 1) : (2004)



Patrick was heading back from the bathroom when he passed his office and heard his phone ringing. He thought about the meeting down the hall in the conference room and how the company spokesmen would soon be getting bored with their coffee, but he’d been waiting three hours now for a phone call from a very important client, so he shook the rest of the excess water off his hands and went to answer the phone.

“This is Patrick Stump,” he answered professionally, wiping his hands on his pants.

“`Trick?”

It was Pete. To say Patrick was surprised would be an understatement. He hadn’t heard from Pete in over a year. Then, Pete also hadn’t used the phone in twice as long as that, not since Patrick graduated. He’d stopped then because Patrick got a job, did something with his life. Sandy and Tony hadn’t talked to him in months.

“Yeah.” Patrick finally got his voice to work. “Hi, Pete.”

“I need you to come back to Seaport,” Pete said breathlessly. It took Patrick back, years back, to the summers they spent together. To Pete’s excitement, the way his voice did that same thing, every time. “I’m getting married.”

Patrick’s stomach dropped.

“What?” He asked. “I don’t think I heard you right; all this coffee is getting to me.”

“No, I’m getting married. To, like, a girl.”

“Oh,” Patrick said lightly. He hoped he didn’t sound how he felt: like he was about to faint.

“Will you come?” Pete asked. “I need you, `Trick. Two weeks.”

Patrick agreed and hung up the phone. He knew he’d have a plane ticket in the mail in a few days, or maybe Pete predicted what he’d say again, and there would already be one in his mailbox when he got home. It hit him again, what Pete said. Married. He rushed back to the bathroom and puked up his lunch.

After the meeting, Donna told him to go home. “You look sick,” she said. “Pale. We’ll have an intern fill in for you today. They need the training and you look like you need the rest. Call me tomorrow.”

Two weeks later, Patrick was on an airplane. He didn’t want to think about this, about going back to the island, about seeing Pete again. But he got off the plane anyway and met Pete at baggage claim. Pete wrapped him in a hug and didn’t let go.



Prologue (pt 2) : (1996)



Pete came into their lives in a rush. He washed over everyone, affected them, and was never forgotten.

He transferred at the beginning of the year. He was pretty for a boy. Patrick could see that, even at his age. His hair hung in his eyes and when he smiled, it was contagious. He knew how to work the room. For a new kid, he got along well with all the other students. He had such a personality that Patrick was almost intimidated. Mostly, Patrick tried to ignore Pete, tried to do his History work without listening to every word Pete said, but it was hard. Impossible. Pete was instantly popular, instantly out of Patrick’s league.

But that didn’t stop Pete from sauntering up to Patrick’s desk in the middle of Math to say, “Want to go away with me this summer? My dad’s taking me to our summer home on an island. It’ll be great.”

The teacher had finished her lecture and now everyone was working on their worksheets. Students were supposed to be seated during this time, but Pete somehow wooed even the teachers and they mostly didn’t care what he did. It was hard, answering that question. He wanted to say yes to Pete; didn’t everyone? But he also didn’t want to get laughed at. It had to be a joke.

Instead, Patrick said, “I’ve never seen the ocean.”

Pete laughed. “What, really? Never?” Patrick shook his head. “Wow, that’s awesome. So, are you in?”

Patrick had to talk to his parents first. His mom and dad were usually pretty generous to him. They let him do whatever he wanted during the summer, but they’d never let him go away with a friend. (Not that he considered Pete a friend. He wanted to, but wouldn’t, not yet. Not until he knew for sure that Pete wasn’t going to meet him at the airport and then laugh in his face.)

His parents talked about it for three nights. Finally, his mom said, “How will you get there? You’ve never flown before. And what if you want to come home? We aren’t paying for the ticket – we can’t afford to fly you home.” Patrick knew these things. He didn’t think he’d want to come home. He’s already had his expectations of the island: all water and sand, seafood shacks and loud music after dark. Piers and the sound of crashing waves through the night. Boat docks, seagulls. Pete’s dad was paying for it, for the whole thing. Patrick wasn’t going to waste that.

Eventually, his dad said, “Okay, Patrick. You can go.” Patrick whooped and punched the air with his fist. He had never grinned so hard in his life. He hugged his dad, then his mom, and in his excitement, his older brother. He called Pete right away to tell him the news.



The First Summer : 1996



Patrick’s mother and father drove him to the airport to meet Pete and his mother. When they found Pete, his mother was standing a few feet away with her cell phone. Pete didn’t seem to notice or care. He ran and hugged Patrick with a huge smile on his face. Pete’s mother finally noticed them a few minutes later. She was wearing a business skirt-suit, her hair tied back. She didn’t look much like Pete; she had high cheekbones and green eyes, a thin face.

She shook each of Patrick’s parents’ hands in turn. “Pat, Dave.” She greeted them with a stiff nod, and that was it. She turned to Pete and said, “Behave for your father. Tell him not to send you home, there are plenty of people on the island you can stay with if he wants to get rid of you.” She didn’t kiss him goodbye. She didn’t even hug him. She just walked away.

Patrick could tell his parents were shocked, but was thankful that they didn’t say anything. They went through security and boarded the plane. Pete sat in the window seat, Patrick in the aisle. “You can look out, if you want. It’s exciting the first time,” Pete told him right before they took off. Patrick grasped the seat until his knuckles were white as the plane leaped off the runway.

Pete laughed and held his hand.

It wasn’t a particularly long flight, which Patrick was thankful of. It was interesting once they were actually in the air. He listened to Pete talk, tell him all about the island and about the shapes of the clouds and how the water was really blue right around noon, but got darker as the day turned to night. They got off the plane and headed to baggage. That’s where Patrick realized that Pete hadn’t told him everything.

Patrick’s dad was tall, sturdy, with dark hair and dark eyes, but he had a kind smile. Pete ran and hugged him as soon as he could, but he made sure not to leave Patrick behind, which surprised Patrick in a way he didn’t want to admit. From behind Pete’s dad stepped another boy, with dark hair and dark eyes and a toothy smile, just like Pete. They didn’t look that much alike in the face, but everything else was the same, like how the boy bounced on his feet in excitement.

“Peter Wentz,” Pete’s dad introduced himself. He held out his hand and smiled, his head tilted just slightly. “But you can call me Tony.” Later, Pete explained that he and his father (and his grandfather) shared a name. Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz. Pete’s dad didn’t want to be Peter, so he went by Kingston. Tony. “And this is Brendon.” Pete not only had a secret brother, but a dog.

“Hemmy!” He ran and hugged the dog around its neck as soon as his father unlocked the SUV. The bulldog licked Pete’s face, shaking with excitement. “This is Hemingway,” Pete told Patrick. They all piled into the car after that; Brendon in the front seat with Tony, Pete and Patrick in the backseat with Hemingway.

The drive from the airport took forever. There was water everywhere, as if it were the end of the world. Pete said it was barely the coast. Patrick was nearly asleep against the window when they pulled to a stop at the ferry dock. He, Pete, Brendon and Hemingway jumped from the car to run onto the ferry while Tony drove aboard. It was dark, just after sunset. Everything smelled like salt water and fish.

The three boys stood against the railing and watched the mainland grow smaller over the forty-five minute ride. Halfway through, Pete yelled into the wind. Even Patrick smiled. Brendon attached himself to Pete’s arm, grinning. “We’ll be there soon,” Brendon said. “It’ll be great, you’ll love the – ”

“House,” Pete finished. He and Brendon shared a grin that seemed weirdly secret, but it didn’t feel like it was secret to Patrick, just to the world. “And the pool and the carousel.”

Patrick didn’t know what to expect. He hadn’t heard about the carousel, but it excited him more than he thought it should, seeing as how he was fourteen now. It didn’t matter – Pete was smiling.

They left the ferry and drove into the darkness, then onto a dirt road and finally they pulled into the driveway in front of the little shack. The house wasn’t what Patrick expected. The kitchen was dark and felt damp, though everything was clearly dry. The sofa and chair in the living room didn’t match; the hardwood floors needed to be treated. Patrick was sure Pete’s room was worse than all the other rooms of the house put together.

The room smelled like sea and sand and dirt, but not strongly. There were twin beds on opposite walls, a dresser with jars full of shells and sand, colorful rocks and sea glass. There was a sea dollar on the bookshelf, which was almost completely full. When Patrick took his shoes off, he felt sand underneath his feet. Pete was already barefoot.

They had macaroni and cheese for dinner. Brendon instantly declared that he didn’t eat meat. He’d been eating gummy bears and jelly beans in the car, but Patrick didn’t say anything about that. When they finished eating, Patrick called his parents while Pete went to get ready for bed. His mom sounded sad, like Patrick had already been away for more than a few hours. She told him to tell Tony if there was something he didn’t want to eat and not stay up too late, but to have fun.

He hung up and went to find Pete in the bedroom, already sprawled across his bed, under the covers. Patrick crawled into his own bed after staring uncertainly at the questionable white sheets. The pillows were lumpy and smelled like dust, but Patrick fell asleep quickly and slept well.



*



Patrick learned a lot of things in a short period of time.

There was almost always fish on the table for dinner. They fished a lot. They would go down to the pier and sit, dangling their legs over the water, with fishing poles and some cans of cola. Brendon was always the first to reel something in. Patrick, on the other hand, had never fished before. Pete stood behind him the first time, showing him how to hold the pole. He explained how to work everything, how to attach the bait to the hook, and how to make sure he didn’t accidentally catch someone’s shirt on the backswing.

They cooked whatever they caught, and if they didn’t catch anything, or just didn’t fish that day, they went to the market three miles into town and bought something fresh. Patrick wasn’t so sure about eating it at first. He’d never really had fish, other than fried catfish sandwiches at school (though those were questionable on the best days) and canned tuna.

But Tony grilled mahi and blackened alligator (they got that from the market) and made fresh tuna salad. Each time, Patrick eyed their meal with disdain, but each time he ended up eating it and loving it, anyway. Pete smiled and lightly kicked him under the table, his mouth full of potatoes.

It didn’t take long for Patrick to figure out that Pete wasn’t sleeping. At all. Pete would get into bed at night, awake when Patrick fell asleep, awake when Patrick got up in the morning. It seemed normal; Pete never said anything about it. He slept during the day, occasionally, when Patrick and Tony were watching Brendon make breakfast, or watching Hemingway chase a squirrel. It would only be a few minutes at a time, slumped against a wall or with his head down on the table, but he always seemed a little happier when he woke up.

Patrick wondered if Pete slept at night, like he did during the day. A little at a time, here and there. Patrick learned how to tell when Pete was going to fall asleep. He would get clingy (more so than usual) and his eyes would go soft, his smile lazy. He would lean against Patrick and sigh wistfully, falling asleep soon after.

Tony didn’t seem surprised and neither did Brendon. Pete called it insomnia when Patrick finally asked. He said he’d always been like that, ever since he was nine or ten years old. Patrick wondered fleetingly how he lived with it, but figured Pete just had to.

They went down to the beach through a path in the trees one day around noon. Pete was barefoot, wearing nothing but his bathing suit. Patrick wore his bathing suit and a t-shirt. He put sandals on after a few thoughtful minutes; he didn’t care if Pete wanted to make fun of him for that, he just didn’t want to cut his feet on something and then have it get infected. Pete didn’t say anything to him about it, just held Patrick’s hand and pulled him along.

At the beach, the sand was white and clean, the water blue and clear. Pete said it wasn’t the real ocean, whatever that meant. Patrick couldn’t see anything but water on the horizon, so he counted that one as a win.

“Let’s make sand castles!” Pete said. He dropped Patrick’s hand, finally, and walked a few feet away, picking their spot. He called Patrick over.

“I don’t know how to make sand castles, either.”

Patrick expected Pete to laugh at him, but no matter what he said, Pete just found it interesting. He never told Patrick he was stupid for not knowing where to find sea shells, or crazy for wanting to wear shoes, or an idiot because he had never made a sand castle. He accepted Patrick completely.

It took Patrick a while to get used to. They built the castle and it ended up lopsided. It collapsed after some of the sand dried and landed all over Patrick’s lap. Pete laughed and pulled him into the water to rinse off. The ocean was cool, but not cold. The sun reflected off the waves, so Patrick squinted as he splashed around. Pete held onto his arm and screamed like a girl when a particularly big wave nearly knocked them over.

Later, they arrived at the house soaking wet, shivering and laughing. It wasn’t cold out, but they were tired. The all ate cheerios for dinner and went to bed early. Pete fell asleep in Patrick’s bed after showing him one of the books from the shelf, a book that told them how to identify certain fish and corals. Patrick curled up next to him and went to sleep. Pete was still awake the next morning when Patrick opened his eyes, but he looked like he’d slept for most of the night.

They walked two miles to the collection of shops and piers, which Pete called The Landing. The market was on the far end, though the smell of fresh seafood carried all the way down in the breeze. They rode the carousel Pete had told Patrick about that first night. There, they met some of Pete’s old friends, Gerard and Mikey. They were brothers, a year older and a year younger than Pete and Patrick, respectively. Pete sat backwards on his horse to talk with Mikey, while Gerard perched beside Patrick and introduced himself.

They lived on the island full time, not just during the summer. Their parents owned half the fish market. Patrick didn’t ask who the other half belonged to. Gerard said he lived in the basement with his art work and his supplies. Patrick didn’t ask any questions about that, either. It didn’t feel right, asking personal questions. Pete did it all the time (“What’s your middle name?” “Have you ever kissed anyone?” “Are your grandparents alive?” The answers to those questions were Martin, No, and Yes. The questions themselves felt wrong, though answering Pete was easy) but Patrick wasn’t going to pick up on bad habits.

Mikey and Gerard left when their parents called them, but Pete and Patrick stayed to ride a few more times. They had ice cream afterwards. Pete had peanut butter and chocolate while Patrick had plain vanilla.

Pete led them to the pool a few days later. It was public, open only during the summer, and closed after sundown. They climbed over the fence just after nine o’clock. Pete landed on the concrete deck and started to strip.

“What are you doing?” Patrick asked, surprised. Pete walked around in his underwear a lot, and Patrick had already seen him naked too many times to count, but this was new. Pete rarely stripped in public. (There was the time a kid in the fish market shoved a fish head down his shirt, and he’d freaked out, taking off his shirt and then his pants. He’d then chased the kid down to the beach and threw him in the water, and got in himself to rinse off. He dressed again as soon as he’d air dried. Tony just shook his head and smiled.)

“Swimming,” Pete said. He slipped off his underwear, gave Patrick a brilliant smile, and then dove into the water. Patrick watched his shadow flow under the water. Pete came up at the side, across the pool. “Come on, swim with me.”

Patrick hesitated. “Please?” Pete called. Patrick sighed. He pulled his shirt over his head and then pushed his shorts down, then his underwear. He folded up his glasses and shoved them into his shoe. He thought about folding his clothes, but then realized that might be overkill. (Or, at the very least, the worst way of stalling.) He sat on the side of the pool and carefully slipped into the water. It was warm from the daytime sun, but slightly cooler than the night air.

He shivered from the sudden temperature change. Pete grinned at him through the darkness, and then disappeared under the water. Patrick let his body go weightless and drifted under the water, too. He swam back up after a few seconds, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes and blinking. Everything was blurry. Pete still wasn’t up.

“Pete?” Patrick called and Pete popped up beside him, grinning. His eyes looked red, like he’d had them open underwater.

“Hey.”

Pete swam over to the side and held onto the edge. His eyes closed for a second, his mouth open. Patrick was going to ask what he was doing, but Pete opened his eyes and smiled. It was slow, almost like Pete had a secret. “Come over here,” he said.

Patrick swam over and hung onto the edge beside Pete.

“Ever jerked off in a pool?”

Patrick blinked in surprise. Honestly, he wasn’t expecting that. Pete had cussed in class on his third day at school, and hadn’t gotten in trouble, but even through the rest of the trip, he’d never said anything like… that. Patrick had jerked off in the shower once, two weeks after arriving on the island. He didn’t have much privacy at home, and hadn’t really worried about it. Some of the popular guys at school were always bragging about their size, while Patrick didn’t really see the point.

He realized, then, that Pete’s free hand was down between his legs.

“Have you?” Pete asked again. His voice was breathy, thin. He still never laughed at Patrick.

“No,” Patrick whispered. It was all he could get out. He couldn’t help it; his hand moved on its own accord, down between his legs, wrapping around his dick. They were quiet; the only sound their mingled breathing. Pete made these soft, strangled sounds, and moaned a few times. Patrick had learned to be quiet, even though he only ever touched himself in the shower, even at home. He didn’t want to find out how thin their walls were.

Patrick came first, but Pete followed right after, biting his lip. Patrick felt suddenly dirty, like he hadn’t had a shower in a few days, or like when he’d been caught playing in the dirt as a child. He swam away from the water that was instantly too warm, away from Pete, who was still hanging onto the side, his wet hair in his eyes, hand still down between his legs.

He climbed out of the pool and put on his clothes. Pete didn’t say anything about it. He climbed out, too, and redressed. They walked home without talking. Pete quietly hummed a song Patrick didn’t recognize. They made it back to the house before Tony got back from his date. Brendon was reading a book in the living room, stretched out on one of the couches.

Patrick showered quickly and then went to bed. Somehow, it wasn’t awkward the next day, or even the day after that. Pete still clung to his arm when he was tired, still kicked him under the table every time he smiled, still laughed overly-loud at Patrick’s lame jokes. Tony asked if Patrick was having a good time; told him, “If you want to use the phone, you can. You don’t have to ask.”

Patrick didn’t know how to answer that. He was having an incredible time. He hadn’t thought about his family in a few days. He felt bad and made a mental note to call his mom next time he had a free moment. Brendon flung a macaroni noodle at Pete with his spoon. “We’re just softening you up, getting you to trust us. Next summer, we’ll put you in the secret basement torture chamber and hang you from your feet. I wonder how red your face will get after a few minutes, from all the blood. Pete’s friend from last year, he looked like a tomato.”

The words would have been almost-believable if Brendon had leered at Patrick, but he didn’t. He just smiled, and then yelped when Pete kicked him, hard. “We don’t have a secret basement chamber,” Pete said. Brendon and Tony exchanged amused looks. “What? We don’t, right? Are you guys hiding something?”

“Pete,” Tony said, waving his fork in Pete’s general direction. “We’re so close to the water, if they’d dug for a basement when building this house, the hole would’ve filled up in an instant. We’d be living in a swimming pool.” Pete grimaced.



*



Pete’s birthday was in June, right before the plane. Pete celebrated with his mom in June and his dad at the end of July. He hadn’t had a birthday party this year; instead, he’d slept over at Patrick’s house. “My mom has to work,” he’d said, playing with one of Patrick’s hot wheels cars. “Your family’s more fun, anyway.” Kevin had bothered them all night, and they hadn’t slept. They’d had ice cream for breakfast, waffles for lunch.

“Any suggestions?” Tony asked the day before Pete’s makeshift party. Patrick didn’t know why he was being asked something that Pete should be answering.

“Uhm,” he said.

“Didn’t Pete tell you?” Tony stood up straight, scratching the back of his head. “We’re doing a joint thing. It’s too bad your birthday’s in April, would’a been cool for it to be while you were here. Could’ve been a real party, then.” Patrick’s face heated up. No, Pete hadn’t told him anything. When Patrick didn’t answer, Tony said, “It’s fine, I’ll just get some crabs. We can have a boil.”

Patrick cut himself on the shells and burned the cuts with lemon juice and had butter running down to his elbows by the end of the night. He brushed his teeth twice to get rid of all the corn. Pete stood beside him, beaming, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth while he jabbered on about going to the carousel tomorrow, his speech muffled.

Even Pete slept that night, curled up on the foot of Patrick’s bed, wrapped around a book.



*



A week before their flight back home, Tony brought a girl to the house. Her name was Sandy. She was almost a head shorter than Tony, had dirty blonde hair and tanned skin. She wore short shorts and a tank top; a smile never left her face. She was nice, knew how to cook lasagna that even Brendon would eat, and she made Tony smile in a way that Patrick hadn’t ever witnessed.

Pete didn’t like her that much, but muttered that she was okay and that he wouldn’t run away or anything. Patrick was a little stunned, but Pete’s smile reassured him. Pete was always smiling, it seemed, when it was just the two of them. He smiled some around Tony and Brendon, too, but not nearly as much. Pete said, “They’re dating, I know it.”

They each got into their own beds that night. Pete didn’t sleep. Patrick didn’t, either.



*



The Second Summer: (1997)



When Tony picked them up from the airport, he was wearing a wedding band. Sandy was in the front seat, heavily pregnant, with Brendon in the back looking sour. Hemingway was left at the house, alone. Tony said, “There wasn’t enough room for everyone in the car.” Pete muttered something about leaving Sandy at the house, but Patrick was the only one who caught it.

The house looked different: the kitchen was cleaned, with new appliances put in, and different counter tops; the living room had matching sofas, a rug, curtains in the windows; everything smelled clean and fresh. There was no sand on the floor. Pete rushed to his room to see the damage, but there wasn’t any. Everything was the same. Patrick was disappointed, in a way, but glad in another.

The room down the hall that had been stuffed with old, moldy books, old bicycles, and clothes that no one wore, had been cleaned and turned into a nursery. The walls were painted white with yellow and pink trimmings. There were sheep painted on the walls. It all looked new, smelled new.

Alexis was born their second week on the island. She was tiny and pink and screamed like hell the first time Patrick saw her, but she was quiet after that. Pete thought she was cool, since he hadn’t been old enough to remember it when Brendon was a baby. Sometimes, Pete and Patrick stole her away and laid her on Patrick’s bed, with a baby blanket underneath her so that she wouldn’t touch the old, sandy sheets.

She slept a lot of the time, but when she was awake, Patrick liked to offer his hand to her. She wrapped all ten of her tiny fingers around two of his. They’d lean over her while she slept, watching her face. It was weird, the way they took to her, but Patrick rationalized that she was Pete’s sister, so it was a family connection.

“I think I like boys,” Pete said one day when they were watching Alexis stare at the ceiling. He said it like they’d been in the middle of a conversation, not cooing at his baby sister.

Patrick blinked.

“I think I should kiss one first, don’t you? Like, make sure. Like research. Only, it’d be fun, I think. If no one hit me.” He looked at Patrick curiously. “Maybe Alex Marshall, from the ice cream shop. Remember him? He looked a lot like a girl, I think he’ll make a good first try. I don’t think he’ll hit me. If he does, it probably won’t hurt anyway.”

Patrick said, “Oh.” His brain didn’t supply any other words, but Pete apparently took it as a sign of approval.

Pete went to The Landing by himself the next day, leaving Patrick and Brendon alone with Alexis while Sandy and Tony went to the beach to relax. Sandy had instantly trusted them with the baby. Patrick was incredibly responsible; it had been one of the first things she’d said about him when they met. He made sure the bottles were the right temperature and he always reminded Brendon to burp her when they were finished. He didn’t even mind the diaper thing, since he had younger cousins.

With Alexis asleep in her bouncer on the table, Patrick and Brendon sat down to do a crossword. Brendon was pretty good with words, but he never sat still. Together, they were a pretty good team. Halfway through, Pete came back looking smug. “Hey, Lexi,” he said, leaning down to kiss the baby on top of her head. She made a quiet sound, but stayed asleep. He grinned at Patrick and said to Brendon, “He’s my partner in crime, too, you know.”

Brendon just waved a hand dismissively. “Take him, take him, I’ll be fine here.” Pete dragged Patrick right back outside. He smelled like someone else’s soap.

He was still smiling when they sat down on the beach, feet in the sand. “I totally made out with Alex,” Pete said. Patrick wasn’t surprised, but it made his stomach hurt to think about it. “He’s our age, did you know?” Pete continued. “I thought he was older, maybe by a year.”

A noise came out of Patrick’s throat, and Pete took it as a confirmation.

“I definitely like boys,” Pete went on. “Like, maybe one day I’ll be able to say, ‘oh, hey, I like dick,’ and everyone will be like, ‘Whoa, that’s cool,’” He smiled into the distance. “When we were making out, he touched my hip, like he wanted to go for my pants, but was kinda nervous, you know? It was really awesome.”

Patrick didn’t say, what would be really awesome is if we stopped talking about it.

Pete led them home before dark. Sandy and Tony were already back home, but Sandy’s skin still glistened with suntan lotion, so they hadn’t been back for long. They cooed over the baby for a while before they made dinner. Pete didn’t eat much, but he kicked Patrick happily a lot.

Pete was already planning their birthday party for this year. Patrick knew what to expect now, so Pete asked his opinion a lot. It was hard, though, because Pete wanted to hang out with Alex. He asked Alex what he thought a lot, but Alex mostly kept quiet and shrugged. Patrick didn’t like the idea of Tony spending money on the party Pete kept rambling about, especially with a new baby.

“We have the money,” Pete said. “My dad used to be famous.” Patrick stared at him until he laughed.

It turned out that Tony used to work for a huge company as the assistant director’s secretary. That wasn’t why he was famous, though. He was famous for his sense of humor and because he played music. “I can play bass,” Pete said out of the blue. Patrick didn’t like learning all these things the second year; he felt that he had missed out on Pete’s life during their first summer together. Pete hugged him round the neck and said, “I didn’t know you could play piano until your mom told me.”

That was true, but different. Piano was way less cool than bass.

Pete lay in bed at night and talked about the party, about how it felt when Alex touched him, about the waves at the beach. Patrick slept with his pillow over his head so Pete wouldn’t keep him awake. Pete always stopped talking when he realized Patrick wasn’t listening. He never got mad at Patrick for that, but if Patrick looked at Pete when he realized Patrick hadn’t been listening, the look of sadness on Pete’s face was too much.

Patrick tried to listen and fall asleep at the same time, but Pete’s voice made him think about things, not stop thinking about things. He wondered what Alex and Pete looked like when they kissed. He wondered if they ever got into Alex’s bed and laid pressed against each other. He jerked off in the shower more, but blamed that on his age. At fifteen, both he and Pete were a little wilder.

They celebrated their birthdays at the end of July, like the year before. Alex didn’t come over because he had to go to dinner with his family. Pete frowned when Alex told him through the phone, but was smiling again by the time he hung up. They ate crawfish and crab, potatoes and corn, gumbo. They stayed up late and watched action movies after Alexis was asleep.

Patrick covered his eyes during the explosions, out of habit. Pete laughed softly and pulled Patrick’s hands away. “You can scream, if you want,” Pete said softly, but he was smiling like he thought it was funny. Patrick rolled his eyes and sat on his hands for the rest of the movie.

Pete crawled into bed with him, later. Patrick just let him.

Alex came to the house the next day, but Tony and Sandy were out, so everything was relatively calm. Alex shied away from Brendon, who seemed to think Alex was interesting. Brendon said, “Do you play guitar?” Alex grinned and nodded.

“No shit,” Pete said. He’d never known.

The four of them went for coffee and ice cream, bringing Alexis along in her baby carrier. They dressed her in a sundress and a hat and used a thin blanket to keep the sun out of her eyes while they walked to two miles to The Landing. Pete jokingly suggesting hitching, but Brendon freaked and said, “No way, we don’t have the connectors for Lexi’s seat.”

Pete smacked the back of Brendon’s head, but lightly, because he was carrying the baby.

They crowded into the shop and all shared each other’s ice cream. Lexi sat on the table, her seat pushed back against the wall. She watched them with wide eyes as they ate. She was awake more now, starting to focus on things and watch people as if she were interested.

“I wish she could have some,” Brendon said sadly, gesturing to his ice cream. “I bet her favorite flavor will be chocolate.”

“Rocky road,” Pete specified, his mouth full. “Frozen marshmallows are fucking awesome.”

They all hummed in agreement. Even Lexi cooed.

On the way back to the house, with Alex heading the opposite direction, back to his own home, Patrick blurted out, “So, why do you guys not live together?”

He’d wanted to ask since the year before, but had never found the right time. Brendon smiled at him, matching Pete. “My mom thought I was really great,” Pete said. “She thought that the oldest would be more responsible, wouldn’t be as much trouble. She was wrong, of course, but she thought it’d be a good idea to split us up. She didn’t want either of us, but she thought I’d be helpful.”

Brendon added, “Tony wanted us both, but didn’t want to take mom to court for it. He felt bad, you know, because she wasn’t ever happy. He wasn’t, either, but he at least tried.”

Alexis let out a little wail then, letting them know that she was hungry. They hurried the rest of the way back to the house.



*



It didn’t storm a lot in Seaport. Sure, it rained, almost every day in the summer, showers that lasted about an hour through the afternoon. But the thunderstorms that raged over them were rare. No one could sleep – not from the rain, like they were scared, but from the noise. The house still creaked and moaned under the weight of the water pounding down upon it.

Everyone took it as the sign for a sleepover.

Brendon sat with Tony and Sandy in the living room, Alexis thankfully asleep for a while. Pete dragged Patrick back to their room as soon as Sandy pulled out the movie. They’d gotten along pretty well over the summer. This was just Pete being possessive. He was like that, sometimes, when he was really tired, or on his way there.

They crawled into Patrick’s bed and read a book together by the light from a lantern. The power in the house wasn’t out yet, but it felt easier that way. Pete leaned against Patrick heavily, his head on Patrick’s shoulder, hair tickling Patrick’s neck. When Pete mouthed the words, Patrick could feel his breath on his chin. They fell asleep just as the rain-drenched sun came up over the horizon.



*



Pete’s grandparents were weird, but in a good way. His grandfather was a veterinarian who came bearing three shots and two pills for Hemingway, along with a ton of jokes. His grandmother was a woman with a smile on her face at all times, even when her husband was rambling on about something she had no interest in. His grandfather was Carl, his grandmother just Grandma.

Hemingway licked Carl’s hands when they arrived, but didn’t shake with excitement like he normally did when people showed up to the house. He knew what was coming for him. Tony didn’t bring Hemmy to the vet; the vet came to them. “Thought we’d come during the summer this time, to see you boys. We’ve heard a lot about you, Patrick.” Carl shook his hand, but it wasn’t stiff like with most people. He smiled like he meant it, spoke like every word was true.

Hemingway got his shots and then hid under the kitchen table for the rest of the afternoon. Pete crawled under with him, but didn’t stay long. They sat around the table, listening to Carl’s stories. He had a lot of war stories, thought he’d never fought. His uncle had, and his father, and his grandfather, too. He said, “I wanted to save lives, not ruin them.”

He was really funny and had a ton of jokes. He could make anything up on the spot. He and Pete and Brendon joked back and forth while Patrick clutched his side, laughing so hard. They were a great team, the three of them. Later, when Patrick told Pete that, Pete said, “Four. Four of us. We did that for you.”

Grandma was nice and sweet and looked frail, but wasn’t. She baked a cake as soon as they were settled, and then she started in on dinner. She made a killer spaghetti sauce; she heated some of the sauce without the meat for Brendon, so even he ate it, instead of his normal macaroni and cheese or cereal. Patrick wanted to go to sleep immediately after dinner, he was so tired, but then they had cake, and Carl had coffee, and they all heard more stories, more jokes.

They went to sleep after eleven, when Carl and Grandma had already left. Even Pete slept, in his own bed, for most of the night.

Grandma and Carl were back early the next morning. They had toaster waffles for breakfast while Carl had coffee and Grandma tended to Alexis. They planned to stay for a week. Patrick found out, soon, that they were also part of an organization that gave worthy students scholarships. While Pete was helping Brendon put Alexis down for a nap, Grandma and Carl sat down at the table and beckoned Patrick over. He sat, already feeling like they were family.

They dropped it on him, like a bomb: “We’d like to know what you’ve thought about college.” He hadn’t, really, and told them as much. He hadn’t thought about that, even after starting high school. He’d always thought that he had until at least Junior Year. “Well, think about it,” Carl said kindly. “You have a scholarship waiting.”

Patrick didn’t tell Pete, but he had a feeling that Pete knew anyway. Patrick laid awake all night, listening to Pete think, over the roar of his own thoughts.



*



Pete’s grandparents were leaving on their flight the same day Patrick and Pete were, so they all drove to the airport together. They had separate flights to catch, and went their separate ways once through security. As they were all saying goodbye, Carl gave Patrick a meaningful look, one that screamed: think about it.

Patrick did, the whole way home.



Part II