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Aug. 17th, 2008 12:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stardustonsableSleep 'til The Sun Burns Out
NC-17 (I know, I'm shocked too)
5,980 words
Pete/Patrick/Travis, implied Cobra GSF
Gigantic thank yous to![[info]](https://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
akire_yta, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
perspexsea, for betaing and my e5chat loves andt_usual_suspect for cheerleading when I really needed it. Based losely (to the point that you'd probably have to ask me to get how) on this prompt from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif){kind=small}
we_are_cities. This is indeed mpreg, folks, so if this isn't your bag well, can't say I didn't warn you. ♥
*
“You can only lose so many babies before they figure you’re defective,” Patrick says, and places a hand on his belly, just barely rounded, unnoticeable under clothes. “Only so long before they figure out you aren’t any good. And they aren’t always right, y’know?”
Pete giggles. It’s a high, panicked sound. Travis looks over at him, half annoyed, half amused. He’s accepted that he will have to be the responsible one this time around.
“So, correct me if I’m wrong,” Pete glances at Travis, then looks at Patrick. His hands twitch, but his stare is steady, “You’re a fucking experiment. For the government. Not only that, but you’re a pregnant experiment. And a fugitive. And you decide to come to us, for no apparent reason. And now you’re expecting us to get you out of the city?” Pete crosses his arm and smirks. “What’s in it for us, princess?”
Patrick glares at Pete, and if he weren’t in a delicate state Travis would totally let them fight, if only to see someone kick Pete’s ass. “Absolutely fucking nothing. But if you don’t you have the guilt of two dead people hanging over your head.”
Travis sighs. “Two more never hurt nobody.”
Patrick looks at him, and Travis realizes that he hasn’t spoken since he and Pete found Patrick in their hideout.
“I never thought you would be one to go back on your promises, Travis McCoy,” Patrick stares at him, his hand sliding away from his belly to hang at his side.
Travis sighs again, and pulls a carton of cigarettes out of one of his pockets. “Are you really gonna call me on promises I made when you had those pretty little lips wrapped around my dick?”
The would-be silence fills with the sound of rain falling, and Pete tapping his chipped-black nails on the tabletop. He stops tapping at that statement and glances between the two.
Patrick sighs and walks towards the door. “Fine. Whatever. Maybe they’ll take pity and take this damn thing out before they kill me. I wonder what she would have looked like, though. Maybe she would have had your eyes, Travie.”
Travis doesn’t have to look to know that Patrick is biting the inside of his mouth to fight a cruel grin. Both of them know he just won.
Travis sighs and stands. “Fine, Stump. Congratulations, welcome to the family, what the fuck ever. Grab a gun so we can go.”
Patrick grabs a handgun from a nearby rack and slides it into the waistband of his pants. ‘Like he knows what he’s doing’ Travis thinks, and then remembers that he does. Remembers exactly where he and Patrick met. Fuckin’ military school.
“Come on, Wentz. We’ve got to rescue Princess Peach from Bowser.”
Pete nods and follows Patrick out the door. He touches Patrick’s elbow once he passes through the threshold and Travis knows they’ll be fucking in a week. He doesn’t care what they do, as long as they don’t hurt his little girl.
*
The beat is thumping a headache into Travis’s head. This was all Pete’s idea, but Patrick doesn’t seem to be complaining. They’re both on the dark floor, the strobe lights passing over them enough for Travis to keep an eye on them. They’re pressed close together, closer than strictly necessary and maybe Travis was wrong when he decided he didn’t care what they did. He orders another shot.
“You don’t think we’ll get out?” Patrick asked. He fought a smile as he drug his fingers through Travis’s hair, tugging lightly on the curls.
“No,” Travis said, and looked up at Patrick, letting him encompass his vision. He turned, his ear pressing into Patrick’s thigh and shifts forward until his nose brushed his belly, the pale soft skin stretched over a barely there bump, “Not anymore.”
He didn’t know if he wanted them to.
Patrick throws his head back, probably searching for a bit of air that isn’t thick with desperation and the heat of too many bodies. His neck is pale, and the colored lights reflect off of his skin beautifully. Red, purple bright orange. Pete moves in quickly, Travis sees a flash of teeth, Patrick’s eyes closing. He imagines he can hear his moan, the one Travis had elicited more times than he could remember. Travis turns to the bar, and orders another shot.
*
“Perhaps we shouldn’t get completely trashed while running away from the government next time, right Travie?”
Travis couldn’t remember wanting to hit Patrick quite as much years ago, when they were in the holding cells.
“Were you always this much of a bitch, or is it just the drugs they had you on?” He asks, wondering if it’s too early to start drinking again. The headache still pounding steadily from the night before insists that it is.
He feels Patrick stiffen, and tension permeates the room. There’s the sound of clothes rustling and Patrick moves away.
“Fuck you, McCoy.” He hisses and the door slams.
Travis curses and sits up. He regrets it immediately as pain settles along his forehead and spreads down to his neck.
“Did you two fuck as much as you fight? ‘Cause that had to be awesome to see.”
Travis opens his eyes a little, allowing the smallest amount of light in. “Fuck off, Wentz. And stop yelling. Have fun debauching the carrier of my kid?”
Pete shrugs. “We were too busy getting your drunk ass back here to do anything. Here’s what I don’t get though. How could the kid be yours? You came here, like, a year ago. And he isn’t an elephant, not from what I can tell.”
Travis tentatively opens his eyes and looks over at Pete. “Gestation period for guys is longer, and they probably slowed the process down as long as they could so they could study him. You know how insane they are about male pregnancies, and no one around here can get past the freak factor long enough to see just how fucked up the whole thing is.”
Pete nods. “So you can get pregnant too, huh?”
“No,” Travis says shortly and stands up. He grabs a pair of jeans from a pile near his feet and pulls them on. “Pack your shit, we need to get out of here. Our Princess is probably more valuable than I thought.”
*
Victoria watches them coolly.
“You know what we want, sweetheart. Why you gotta give me the evil eye?” Travis asks.
She doesn’t answer, is silent and still until she glances at Patrick’s stomach. Then she raises an eyebrow. “Travis. It’s hard enough trying to operate without being on some watch list. Now you bring us an experiment?”
Patrick glares at her and Pete snickers a little. Travis shifts so he’s standing in front of Patrick a bit. “What are you talking about, baby? No experiments here. Just a few friends that want to see Gabe.”
Victoria’s eyes widen. “He’s the real thing?”
Travis nods a little. “And you have customers to serve. So maybe we can go back now?”
She rolls her eyes, but pushes on the door marked employees only. The sounds of the kitchen burst out. She leads them past the busy cooks and into Gabe’s office.
Gabe is all smiles when he sees Travis. None of his glee reaches his eyes. Travis figures he’d be a bit nervous if Gabe ever smiled at him sincerely.
“We need a place to stay, my man.”
Gabe snorts and sits back. “What makes you think I have somewhere?”
“Other than the fact that you’re running a smuggling ring out of houses all along the coast?” Pete volunteers.
“Unconfirmed rumours,” Gabe says, waving a hand. “Seriously, McCoy, I don’t work out of cottage homes with picket fences.”
Patrick snorts and Gabe leans over to see him around Travis. “Say something, Princess?”
Patrick narrows his eyes and moves to stand in front of Gabe’s desk. “I realize the whole pregnant thing might throw you for a loop but really, I’m a guy.”
Gabe smiles. “Actually it was the feathery hair and pillowy lips that confused me.”
Travis coughed. “Gabe, this is Patrick. We met in military school."
Gabe’s smile dimmed. “I know five-hundred ways to kill you with a paper clip military school?”
“A thousand.” Patrick says, picking up a paper clip from Gabe’s desk. “I went there longer than Travis. Now, about you finding somewhere for us to stay."
Gabe opens his mouth only to be interrupted by Victoria’s disembodied voice yelling at them to get out, now.
Travis hears the immediately recognizable sound of matter being swallowed by fire and then Gabe is holding a door open, yelling at them to get the fuck out.
*
“Fuck, McCoy,” Gabe turns away from where his restaurant used to be to look at Travis. “Did you bring the fucking government to my door? My restaurant is fucking gone man. My business. My-” Gabe falters. “Vicky-T, Ryland, Alex, Nate they’re all fucking gone. So this kid better come out shitting gold and crying diamonds, McCoy, because necros are not fucking cheap.”
Patrick inhales sharply and presses into Travis’s back shamelessly. “Gabe…,” Travis starts and looks back at the burning building. “I’ll pay for it. Full memory and everything. For all of them. But I need you to get us out of here. Now.”
Gabe curses and turns to punch the wall of the neighboring building. He inhales shakily then nods. “Ok. You can stay at my house tonight. I’ll have something set up by tomorrow.”
Travis nods and wraps an arm around Gabe’s shoulders.
“Full necros, man.”
Travis nods, “Don’t worry about it. I know some people.”
*
“What are we doing, Travis? What are we going to do with the kid?” Pete asks as he watches Patrick who’s fallen asleep in the middle of the bed Gabe had given them.
“We’re getting out.” Travis says. “You don’t have to go with us, but we’re getting out.”
Pete scowled. “You’re gonna go play house with Stumpy? After all the bullshit he’s brought us? We didn’t have to run from the feds before, just stupid cops. He’s a fugitive.”
Travis shrugs and looks out of the glass doors that led to Gabe’s backyard. “You knew I was a fugitive when you met me, Wentz. And I’m pretty sure that’s what you’d be if I ever let your dumb ass get caught. I’m not sayin’ I’m gone forever. But he can’t be here right now. At least not until the kid is born.”
“I was doing fine on my own, McCoy,” Pete hisses and stands up. “Fine, whatever. Do whatever the fuck you want. I hope you and the wife have a nice life.”
Pete turns to walk away but Travis curses and leans up to pull him back. He keeps tugging until Pete lets himself be pulled down, half on the couch, half on Travis.
Travis turns his head and brushes his lips against Pete’s ear. “Don’t go around telling your friends about me being sweet to you, Wentz.” He mutters, and shifts until Pete is laying on top of him, their legs tangled.
“Jealousy isn’t pretty on you, and you aren’t exactly beauty queen material, so you might wanna cool it.”
Pete makes a face like he’s about to start up again but Travis just laughs and shakes his head. “Go to sleep, Wentz. You can go back to being the big badass mercenary tomorrow.”
Patrick shifts and snuffles quietly in the bed.
*
“C’mon, Stumpy,” Pete says and shakes Patrick awake. “Travis says it’s time for your physical. Which basically means he wants to see Smith again. Anyway, up, you behemoth.”
Patrick’s arm swings out, his fist connects solidly with Pete’s jaw. “Don’t call me that, fucker.”
He sits up and yawns, ignoring Travis, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed snickering.
“That’s why he sent you to do his dirty work, by the way,” he says to Pete who’s kneeling at the edge of the bed, gingerly touching his face. “Now where are we going?”
“Hospital. Of sorts,” Gabe says from the door, blatantly staring at Patrick’s stomach. “C’mon. You need to clear out for a few hours, I’ve got business to take care of.”
*
“What the hell happened to you?” a woman with honey-colored curls and a stern look asks Patrick.
“One could ask you the same.” Patrick snaps back, draping an arm across his belly.
Greta snorts. “Good thing you aren’t trying to be secretive or anything. Because I’d totally know you were pregnant. Have you been eating? At all? Have these idiots been treating you okay? I realize it’s a bit difficult to stay perfectly healthy when you’re on the run from the law but—“
“How would you know?” Patrick mutters, mostly to himself. Greta’s eyes narrow.
“Because I’ve been running my entire life, babe. And because I’ve been a doctor longer than you’ve known Travis. And yeah, I do know that that’s at least ten years, because Travis doesn’t stop talking when he’s on anesthesia. You just need a shitload of vitamins. This your first kid?”
Patrick freezes, looking up and Greta then at the cracked walls of the clinic. “Why?”
Greta raises an eyebrow. “Because if it isn’t I need to know how they got the first one out. Is there a birthing scar or something? It’ll be easier to know where to cut if you guys aren’t near somebody with medical experience when the kid’s ready to come out.”
“Oh,” Patrick says softly. “I don’t know.”
Greta looks up from her clipboard. “You…you don’t know if this is your first kid or not?”
Patrick shook his head. “I remember being pregnant before. That was Travis’s. We were kept in a lab. One day they drugged me. When I woke up, they told me that Travis was dead, and that they’d kept me unconscious for a few months. So. I don’t know. Maybe?”
“Oh.” Greta says. “Travis doesn’t know does he?”
“How long they kept me under? That I don’t know if the kid is his?” Patrick laughs weakly and shakes his head. Greta sighs and pulls him into a hug. If she notices her shirt getting wet, she doesn’t say anything.
“C’mon,” she says after a minute, “let’s finish this checkup.”
*
“Everything in order, Doc?” Travis asks later, wrapping Greta in a hug. She laughs and hugs him back then pulls away.
“He’s surprisingly healthy. Just keep his stress levels low, tell Pete that too. And please do your best to get him to a doctor, me if you’re in the area, in about six months,” She laughs again when Patrick mutters something about the gestation period of an elephant. “Spencer will bring him the vitamins he needs. It was nice meeting you, Patrick. Later, Travis.” She gives a little wave then steps out of the room.
“Hey, hey, Greta, about Gabe,” Travis follows her out and catches her hand. She has a dark look when she turns to him.
“You know I hate Necromancy, Travis.”
Travis nods, “I know, I wouldn’t ask if you weren’t the best Greta.”
She rolls her eyes, “You wouldn’t ask if you didn’t think I’d do it for cheap. Me being the best is just a perk.” She gives Travis a knowing look, then nods. “Only to keep you and Patrick out of trouble. Full memory for four people, right?”
Travis nods. “I appreciate it, O Sorceress.”
She waves a dismissive hand. “It’s high tech DNA replication, and a whole bunch of data entry. Tell this Gabe person to be at my office tomorrow, anytime before noon.”
Patrick pulls his knees up and rests his chin on them, watching them exchanging last bits of information through the doorway.
“Should you be doing that?” Travis asks when Greta leaves, pulling himself up on to the examination table. The paper crinkles.
Patrick shrugs. “Don’t know. Why do you care? Damn kid is growing like a tree anyway.”
“Hey hey,” Travis said and pulls Patrick closer. “You knew the kid was gonna grow slow. And yeah, you may get on my fuckin’ nerves sometimes, but I did miss you, kid.”
Patrick huffs a laugh and pulls away. “Whatever, Travis, you and Pete-”
The door opened and someone, Patrick assumes Spencer, walks in, a small bag in one hand.
“Travis!” he says, his face lighting up with a smile. Patrick narrows his eyes.
“Hey, Spence,” Travis says, standing up to envelope Spencer in a hug.
Honestly, Patrick knows that Travis hugs everyone. It doesn’t stop him from glaring harder. He barely notices Pete coming in the room behind Spencer.
“It’s been a while Travis.” Spencer says as he hands Patrick the bag with a significantly smaller smile. He turns back to Travis and Patrick almost growls. Spencer had just cocked his hips. Patrick knows that move. He used to do that move before, when he wanted Travis to do something for him.
Pete glances over at him and starts snickering.
“Um, yeah,” Travis grins. “It has. You been doing alright, Smith?”
Spencer nods and steps closer. “I have, you could come see how well, later, y’know. If your...guest doesn’t mind.” He throws another smile at Patrick, who’s digging his nails into the palm of his hand. Pete wraps an arm around his waist. It would’ve been calming if Pete wasn’t snickering into Patrick’s shoulder.
“Um, no.” Travis rubs the back of his neck and looks back at them. “I, uh, I think I’ve settled down for a while. I’m not man enough to handle them and you, Spence. Flattered that you think so though.” He grins at Spencer again and Patrick wants to yank on a handful of Travis’s hair then hit this Spencer kid in one of those pretty blue eyes.
Spencer nods, smile firmly in place. “I never thought I’d see the day the great Travis McCoy settled down, but okay. Later Travis, Wentz. It was nice meeting you, Patrick.”
Patrick stares back at him, taking pleasure in the awkward silence that falls on all of them but Pete, who’s now shaking with the effort of keeping his laughter under control. Spencer’s smile is more amused than seductive now, and he nods before leaving the room.
Travis turns around. “What the hell, Patrick?”
Pete cackles loudly. Patrick rolls his eyes and pushes him to the floor.
“Thought you were going to rip out his throat with your teeth, Stumpy.” Pete tells them a few minutes later when he’s finally stopped laughing. “Who knew you were so possessive.”
“The government,” Patrick says drily.
Travis raises an eyebrow. “Yet you don’t mind Wentz hanging all over me.”
Patrick shrugs and stands up. “Whatever. Can we go now?”
Travis shakes his head and hands Patrick his own jacket. “It’s cold out there, Stump. Gotta keep you and the kiddy warm.”
It swallows Patrick, but he just pulls it closer, and if anyone notices him inhaling a bit deeper, no one mentions it.
*
“So you like me, Stumpy?”
They’re back at Gabe’s place, have been for a few hours. Pete had been giving him considering looks since they left Greta’s clinic.
“No,” Patrick said, not looking away from the ceiling- which he’d been staring at for the past hour. “I pretty much hate you, right now. Nothing personal, I hate everyone right now. You’re just in the lead. Mostly because you keep fucking calling me that.”
Pete grins and crawls onto the bed and straddles Patrick, careful to sit on his pelvis. “You don’t snap at me, Stumpy. And I know you know me and Travis hook up sometimes. Unless you have like, night deafness. So you must like me.”
He grins and slips his hands under Patrick’s shirt and spreads them wide, covering most of his raised belly.
“Hate you,” Patrick says shortly, eyes trained on the ceiling.
“That makes me feel a bit objectified then,” Pete says, dragging blunt nails across Patrick’s stomach in nonsensical patterns. “Especially if you’re enjoying this.”
He leans over, and kisses Patrick’s jaw lightly. Patrick exhales and shifts. “Why are you doing this, Wentz?”
Pete shrugs, and Patrick can feel him smile against his neck. “Because I like you, Stump.”
Patrick sighs and turns his head to catch Pete’s mouth.
“Well, at least you two are getting along.” Travis says.
Patrick jumps and tries to pull away but Pete follows with a throaty chuckle.
*
Gabe moves them into an apartment just outside of the center of the city. Its tiny enough to be comfortable, and nondescript enough to make them all feel safe. Gabe has left a note on the (only) bed in the house for them to have fun, and gives them a number to call if they ever need him.
Pete suggests that they go out to celebrate and Patrick agrees, if only because the days when he could go out with only a few layers of clothing were slowly dwindling.
They find a club so similar to the one from Patrick’s first nights with them that Travis is hit with déjà vu.
This time though, they pull Travis onto the dance floor. Patrick moves between him and Pete, writhing to the beat and Travis is reminded of why he took a chance on him in the first place.
“You would pull some shit like this,” Matt said shaking his head at Travis, who’s staring at the dance floor. At the slightly chubby kid with the hat who should not be moving like that.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, man.” He said and turns to grin at Matt.
Matt rolled his eyes, “Didn’t anyone tell you you’re not supposed to get a crush on the dudes at military school? Or you’re at least supposed to be a little bit more subtle about it. You’re staring at him. He’s the Superintendent’s nephew or some shit like that.”
Travis shrugged. “He’s dancing with a guy. And we’re in a gay club, so, y’know.”
Matt smacked his shoulder. “Dude, I told you, this isn’t a gay club. It’s a punk club. Yes, I saw the guy with eyeliner on. Eyeliner does not equal gay.”
Travis shook his head and turned back to looking at the guy. “Whatever. You military kids are weird. What’s his name?”
Matt sighed and leaned against the wall. “Patrick Stump. And you’re a military kid too, now, McCoy.”
“Patrick,” Travis said, rolling the name around his mouth. “Cool.” He stood up, ignoring the way Matt was muttering to himself, and made his way towards Patrick.
“What d’you think, Travis?” Pete asks, shaking Travis out of his memories. There’s some acoustic song playing, and Patrick is swaying, his eyes closed. He’s humming too, Travis can feel the vibrations against his chest.
“Do you think we could make our Princess beg?” Pete has a dangerous glint in his eye, the same one that drew Travis to him almost a year ago. Travis grins and nods as Patrick tells them that it’ll never happen. He lets himself get dragged into the beat of the music as his boys make things into a bet. It’ll be fun to win later on tonight.
*
“Fuckfuckfuck.” Patrick mumbles the words like a prayer, clinging to the words and doing his best to hang on as Travis and Pete work together to break him apart.
“Something wrong, Stumpy?” Pete asks as he works on his upper body, suckingbitinglicking his mark into Patrick’s pale skin, contemplating where the purple bruises will look best. Occasionally he’ll slide up to nip at Patrick’s ear, humming and only stopping only when Patrick is shaking with the effort of not making a noise. Pete would give him credit. The bet had mutated into Pete and Travis making Patrick fall apart (“come so hard you’ll be seeing into when the baby is born,” Pete says and leers until Travis cuffs him for talking about the baby and sex in the same sentence), but he was holding on valiantly.
Travis chuckles quietly, watching from where he’s settled between Patrick’s thighs. Finally deciding which mode of action he’ll take he dips his head down, skimming his lips across Patrick’s baby bump (still so damn small) and over to his hip. He lays his own claims, biting just hard enough for it to hurt, getting Patrick to hiss and arch up, only to have Pete gently push his hips back down.
Travis sits back, looks up at Patrick, his eyes bright and blown out, his chest rising and falling rapidly from the effort of holding back. He’d always been loud (and bossy), whenever he was worked up. Travis couldn’t help the small, satisfied smile that curled across his mouth.
“You’re pretty like this,” he says, drawing curlicues on one pale thigh with a long finger, “all spread out and wanting it. Shame you won’t just give up and let us hear those pretty noises you make. You know that’s what gets Pete.” Travis pauses to stretch himself out beside Patrick “You making those noises.”
He holds his hand out to Pete, who drags his tongue across the span of his palm. Travis swears he can feel every bump on Pete’s tongue, feel every molecule in the puff of air Patrick lets out at the sight. “You want it, Stump? You want me to get you off while Pete sucks bruises into that pretty little collarbone of yours?”
He reaches down, wrapping his hand around Patrick’s dick.
“Shit,” Patrick gasps out, and Pete laughs, his eyes trained on the sight of Travis jerking Patrick in slow, careful pulls.
Patrick whines a little and thrusts up. Pete’s hand immediately pins him back down.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he says into Patrick’s ear. “Gotta ask nicely, Stumpy.”
“Fuck you,” Patrick bites out. Travis laughs and twists his hand a little.
“Not with that attitude you won’t,” Pete replies and leans up to kiss Patrick.
They go on like this for minutes, Travis’s hand moving agonizingly slow, Pete catching all of Patrick’s little half whimpers with his own mouth.
Pete lets up and Patrick gasps out, “Fine, fine, shit, fuck. Please. Just, fucking go.”
Travis is happy to oblige, his hand speeding up, and he definitely notices Pete’s hand sliding off Patrick’s hip, over to the table beside the bed. Tanned fingers snatch a small jar of oil, before vanishing between Patrick's legs.
It doesn’t take much to guess Pete’s destination when Patrick goes stiff, mewls, and comes with a sob of relief.
Travis grinds against Patrick’s hip lightly as they lay, watching Patrick come down. He’ll make Pete get him off after Patrick’s gone to sleep.
“You realize this mean we win,” Pete says to the mostly-silence.
Patrick punches him, then pushes him onto the floor so he can get up to clean himself off.
*
They settle. They calm. They stop looking over their shoulders so much.
*
Travis lures Patrick out for lunch one day when Pete’s gone to do whatever it is that Pete does when he leaves.
Patrick regrets not watching his back, and Travis’s.
*
“Hey!” Pete yells, and swings into the kitchen, where he figures Patrick is.
He’s right. Patrick yelps and punches him in the stomach, hard.
“Seriously, Stump,” Pete wheezes. “You’ve gotta stop hitting me.”
Patrick growls and bangs the phone in his other hand against the wall. “Travis is gone. So either shut the fuck up and help me contact Gabe or get punched again. You scared the shit out of me, seriously.”
Pete’s eyes widen. “He’s what? Stop that.” He takes the phone from Patrick. “He doesn’t answer tapped lines. Even if he’s the one tapping them. Call Greta, tell her to get him to a meeting place.” Pete stops to rattle of the numbers.
Patrick makes the call then leans against the wall, resting one hand on his belly. “He’s gone.”
“Stumpy. Stump. Patrick,” Pete pulls him off the wall and into his arms. “What happened?”
Patrick shakes his head and digs his nails into Pete’s arm a little. “Don’t know how they found us. Don’t know how they found out. I don’t know how you went so long without getting caught.”
He pulled away from Pete with a curse and turned to punch the wall. “Fuck!” He screams and grabs the kitchen ashtray, preparing to throw it.
“Patrick,” Pete says, loudly. He grabs Patrick’s arm, sets down the ashtray. “God, kid, I’m starting to see why they put you in military school in the first place. We’re going to get him back. We know who’s got him, shit, we probably know where he is.”
Patrick takes a shuddery breath and leans against Pete. “I only hit him once.”
Pete makes an offended noise and Patrick shakes his head. “It was years ago, before I learned not to hit anybody when I was actually angry. You just annoy the shit out of me, Wentz. I only hit him once. In the stomach.”
Pete stilled. “Why. Why do you remember where you hit him?”
Patrick laughed hollowly. “We didn’t know. Shit, we barely understood that guys could get pregnant. And we were both clean, and so goddamned stupid.”
“Patrick, you aren’t- was Travis?”
“Yeah,” Patrick says, and turns to bury his head in Pete’s shoulder. “I can’t make it up to him. I can’t give him the kid that I made him lose. Every time I try something happens.”
“They got him back, because they figured out he could get pregnant too.” Pete says quietly.
“They got him back to harvest genes from the kid he’s got now,” Patrick replies. “From the fucking zygote that’s developed just enough to have what they need. I was a fluke. My gestation is nice and slow because they made it that way. Travis is the real thing. All the slow growing guinea pigs they want.”
Pete is silent, he stares at the sink. This morning Travis had been leaning against it, talking, gesturing with an unlit cigarette.
“He knew.” Pete says.
Patrick nods. “He told me. Right before they got him. He made a bunch of noise, yelling shit. Told me to remind Gabe that he owed him. That Greta wouldn’t have done shit if Travis hadn’t asked.”
“As if I’d forget something like that.”
Pete jumps and Patrick is pointing a gun in Gabe’s direction. Pete hadn’t realized he had it.
Gabe holds his hands up. There were four people behind him, looking at them with a mix of distrust and pity. “Calm down, Prin-Patrick. We’re friends.”
“You’re smugglers.” Patrick says calmly, his arm steady. “You’re thieves that wouldn’t have helped me if it wasn’t for Travis. Why the fuck should I trust you.”
Gabe smiles. “Because you’re one of us, even if you haven’t stole a thing. Honor among thieves and all that shit.”
“Or maybe,” Victoria says and pushes Gabe out of her way. “Maybe because he just got us back and doesn’t want to die.”
“Not before he can enjoy one night with us anyway.” One of the taller men adds. “I’m Ryland by the way.” He waves and laughs nervously.
“I don’t think you’d hesitate to shoot him, either.” Victoria says, and Patrick suspects there’s some admiration in her voice.
“We know where Travis is.” The man closest to Ryland says. “I’m Alex,” He introduces himself.
Patrick lowers the gun. “So do we. That isn’t the problem. Getting him out is.”
“That would be where we come in,” Gabe says, slinging an arm around Patrick’s shoulder. He backs off immediately after, but Patrick’s elbow still connects solidly with his side.
“You have a plan?” Pete asks.
“Of course we do,” Victoria says. “We always have a plan.”
Patrick eyes them suspiciously but nods and gestures for them to sit down.
Gabe lays it out, using a lot of hand gestures and occasionally the salt and pepper shakers to diagram parts of fit.
When he finishes Patrick stares at him for a minute, calls him an absolute idiot, then agrees to it.
*
It takes a month to gather all the firepower Gabe wants. Pete grumbles about how he could’ve gotten it faster for weeks. He’s suitably quiet when Gabe shows him a pile of ammunition almost taller than Pete.
*
When Patrick sees them for the last time before they go he can’t do anything but laugh.
“Don’t get killed,” He tells Pete before brushing their lips together, softly.
Pete frowns, “You know I used to do this for a living right? I mean, we pretty much stopped because we didn’t want anyone retaliating while you were with us but…me and Travis were mercenaries.”
Patrick laughed. “Were? You’re giving it up already? Yes, Pete, I know what you are, were, whatever. Doesn’t mean you can’t get killed. Just come back whole. And with Travis.”
Pete smiles a little and kisses Patrick again. “Whole. With Travis. Same thing.”
Spencer and Greta are staying with him until they come back, a decision that had been made without Patrick there to bitch about Spencer. They stand behind Patrick and watch as Pete and Gabe and Gabe’s crew leave, their guns and ammunition clattering.
When Spencer asks Greta in a whisper if they knew they were only laying siege on a laboratory Patrick laughs and turns around to them. “They’re a little gung ho. The enthusiasm is nice, though.” Patrick smiles at Spencer, and Greta laces their fingers together before wrapping an arm around Spencer’s waist and leading them both back into Gabe’s headquarters.
Hours later, when the sound of an explosion rolls across the city, Patrick doesn’t panic. Gabe’s a fucking maniac, but he wouldn’t hurt what was Patrick’s. He doesn’t have a death wish.
*
Patrick trails his hand along Pete’s side snickering when he squirms away.
“Hey,” Pete says then yawns wide enough to make his jaw pop. ”What’s up?”
“Hi,” Patrick answers, his lips quirked into a smile. “It’s your turn.”
Pete groans. “But she’s so cute when she’s sleeping.”
Patrick scoffs, “Are you implying that my kid isn’t adorable at all times?”
“Yes,” Pete answers, seriously. “Especially when she’s kicking me. Kid has your temper.”
“She has two parents,” Patrick says and rolls onto his stomach, just because he can. “How do you know that isn’t Travie’s temper.”
Pete snorted. “I lived with Travis for years, I’ve never seen any temper.”
“You’re gonna see it soon, if you two don’t decide who’s getting the kid then shut the hell up.” Travis says from Patrick’s other side.
Patrick snickers and pushes Pete out of the bed, gently so he has time to catch his footing. “Time to wake the munchkin up for the day. I’ll warm up her breakfast. Travis, you can-,”
“Stay in bed,” Travis says rolling onto his side. “Stay in bed, and then, if I feel like it, take a shower, then get back in bed.
Patrick shrugs then slides out himself. “I’ll let you win this battle.”
Travis snorts. “This one, and every other one for the next year and a half.”
Patrick shakes his head and leans over to brush a kiss on Travis’s mouth, then another one over his barely raised stomach. “That’s assuming it doesn’t take longer.”
Travis groans and pulls the sheets over his head, Patrick just laughs.
*
Alex and Ryland are holding him up, but Travis, his arms and face bruised, but his stomach untouched, walks to them.
Patrick holds him close and almost sobs with relief when he feels Pete join them.
