Rating: R (for language, maybe higher later)
Summary: (sequel to Twenty-Five and Pregnant) Sixteen years ago, Pete and Ashlee had a son. Fifteen years ago, Patrick and Travis had a son. Growing up, they were each other's only friend and being best friends was encouraged. As teenagers, everyone wants to keep the juvenille delinquent away from the nerd, but when the nerd doesnt want to stay away from the bad boy, what are parents to do but hope for the best and be ready to pick up the pieces when everything explodes?
Disclaimer: Yet again, Patrick cant get pregnant to HAVE a son, so this is pointless.
Author's Note: i'm posting this just because, for some reason, the idea of middle aged patrick/travis make-outs on a piano is way hotter than the idea of two men in their forties getting it on should EVER be! (hahha)
“Patrick! He got his nipples pierced!”
Patrick didn’t have to even ask who Pete meant. “You had pierced nipples, Pete.” Patrick pointed out.
“I know! God, I have to call my mom and apologize for everything. Again! I feel like I’m turning into the evil parents I didn’t want to be, but dude… my sixteen year old son came downstairs with a hangover and pierced nipples at breakfast this morning!” Pete yelled in the phone. “Just… Jesus, if I did THIS to my parents, no wonder they yelled at me!” he said, then sighed. “I’m so scared he’s gonna do something like this one time and get into trouble.” Pete admitted. “It drives me crazy thinking that my baby boy was out drinking and getting his nipples and GOD know what else pierced all night!” Pete said. “And I mean… my parents had SOME control over me! They would ground me, or like… punish me in some way… Bronx is untouchable! He yells at us when we yell, he throws shit at me when he gets REALLY mad… I wonder what else I can do!” Pete said. “Send him to a psychiatrist?!” he asked.
Patrick couldn’t really sympathize. “Pete, you let him get this way! Did you ever discipline him when he was growing up? NO! If he broke something, you didn’t even say anything to him, just cleaned up after him. If he said something he shouldn’t, you just laughed at how funny it was to hear a five year old curse!” he said, then sighed. “And the biggest part of it Pete is he is YOUR son.” He said softly. “I’m not calling you mentally instable, because I’m your best friend and I love you but… you know better than any of us that your mind isn’t the most sane out there.” He said gently. “And that sorta thing is genetic. He’s grown up watching how insecure and moody you are, and it’s what he knows.” He said. “And to top EVERYTHING off, he’s sixteen, Pete.” He said. “My fifteen year old showed up with his beautiful curly black hair straightened with bleached tips! What do you say to that, Wentz?!” he asked.
“Yeah, but that’s just Jude’s hair. Jude may follow Bronx around all the time and look up to everything he does… but he is smart enough to draw the line. Hell, Bronx told me that Jude made a fucking eighteen ten on his last SAT! Your kid is fifteen and a total nerd, and my kid is a juvenile delinquent!” Pete said.
“Yeah, and do you see what I mean?! I love Bronx, you know I do, but I’m not so sure Jude is as strong-willed as everybody says he is! How do I know he won’t come home with piercings now because ‘Bronx has it, and Bronx is cool!’ or something?” he asked. “How do I know that some day he won’t start partying with Bronx, or doing bad things Bronx does?” he asked. “I hate to say it, Pete, but it honestly reminds me of how I was when we first started out! I was a good kid too! And I may have stayed a somewhat more decent kid than you guys, but I tried pot, I enjoyed drinking beers before every show when I was seventeen or eighteen. I had drunken, unsafe sex when he was conceived for God’s sakes, and I always WAS the good one! Jude is smarter than I was, but he has a worse best friend.” He said.
“Don’t worry, dude, Bronx may be a demon-child, but I doubt he’d hurt Jude. They’re best friends.” Pete said, and Patrick sighed, hoping Pete was right.
Travis was watching TV when the doorbell rang. He opened in and frowned, but stepped aside. “Hey, what’s up?” Travis asked, watching as Bronx took off his sunglasses.
“Picking up Jude.” He said, smiling. “Gotta take him out on a Saturday night, right?! Can’t have his nerdy little ass sitting at home all night long.” He said, then ignored whatever Travis started to say by pulling up his shirt as Jude came down stairs. “Jude! Check it out.” He said.
Jude laughed, examining Bronx’s nipples. “Ow, looks painful.” He said, reaching out to flick one of them, making Bronx whine and pull his shirt down. “They look really cool.” He said.
“Eh, they’re sore but I was so drunk it felt good.” Bronx said, then slapped Jude’s ass as he shoved him towards the stairs. “Go up there, get your hot ass in the tightest pants you have, and lets go out and get laid!” Bronx cheered, then followed Jude upstairs.
Travis just stood in the hall having a silent heart attack, before heading down the other hall to where Patrick was playing his piano. “Patrick, Patrick, go now, stop Jude!” he said, voice distressed. “I- I’m not even sure how to approach the situation of stopping him from going out with Bronx but PLEASE don’t let our baby leave!” he said, flopping down on the stool beside him.
Patrick sighed. “I already told him he could go, Travis.” He said, shrugging apologetically. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Travis whined and slumped, head banging a horrible tune on the piano. “Bronx got here, walked in talking about how ‘his nerdy little ass’ can’t sit around on a Saturday, showed Jude his fucking NIPPLES first thing, told Jude he was too drunk when they did it for it to hurt, then told him to go dress slutty so they can go out and get laid!!!!” he cried, wide eyed. “They- Jude wouldn’t do that, right?” he asked, looking worried.
Patrick laughed. “He’s fifteen, Travis!” he cried, rubbing Travis’s shoulders. “Bronx is a shit, and Jude may worry me sometimes, but he’s not stupid enough to do something THAT bad!” he said, sure of that much. He smiled. “Jude is too much of a romantic to just sleep with somebody at fifteen. He’s like… told me when I had the ‘you know condoms are your friend, right?’ talk that he’s- his exact words- ‘saving himself for real love’.” He said, snickering. “If one thing I’m confident about, no matter how bad of an example as Bronx is, you don’t have to worry about Jude getting an STD or knocking up some fifteen year old girl, Travis.” He said, then rubbed his hair, soothing him quickly. “Although, I still worry.” He said, sighing. “I don’t want my son walking around dressed slutty.” He said adamantly. “You and I both know there are bad people out there and Jude is a very beautiful boy.” He said softly.
Jude, though taller than Patrick, was still tiny like his dad. He was around five foot eight or five foot nine, with the potential to grow more, since he was only fifteen, so he wouldn’t always be so small hopefully, but at fifteen he was small. He also had been lucky enough to get a gorgeous figure that both his father’s would have envied when they were younger. He had curves but was still thinner than Patrick was. Patrick was reminded of himself at Jude’s age, Jude was just taller and sure to grow even more. Jude had Patrick’s blue eyes, and looked like a mix of his parents.
Travis snorted. “You’re telling me?! Do you know how many people LOOK at him!” He said, horrified. “He’s FIFTEEN!” he said. “Last time he came out to one of my shows, three guys in their late twenties tried to buy him drinks! Jude DOES NOT need to go out with Bronx Wentz! Bronx is a tiny shit like his dad and couldn’t do shit if someone got the wrong idea and wanted to hurt Jude! And I swear to God, if my son gets hurt while out with that kid, I’ll kill him, Patrick.” He said, then sighed. “Patrick, cant you make him stop?” he asked, pouting.
Patrick snickered and stood up. “I’m gonna let him go, but I’ll go set rules.” He said, pressing a kiss to Travis’s forehead. Travis hugged him around the middle, still sitting and Patrick smiled, hugging him. “He gets too guilty to do something I specifically tell him not to. And Travis, don’t worry. I know you worry probably more than I do, and I worry every time I hear Bronx’s name, but I know that I can’t be the mean parent. Besides, all parents worry like we do.” He said, and Travis whined.
“I’m calling my mom and apologizing for stuff she doesn’t even KNOW I did.” He said sadly.
Patrick snorted. “She knows, trust me. I don’t know if it’s the fact I had female organs until Jude was born or if it’s just because I am biologically the mother, but I know everything Jude does, even if he doesn’t fess up… we’re just lucky he admits everything I can’t possibly know.” He said, smiling. “Travis, look at me.” Travis lifted his head and Patrick kissed him softly. “You’ve trusted me for fifteen years, you can trust me now. Jude won’t do anything too stupid.” He sighed. “I admit, it wouldn’t shock me if he shows up with a tattoo on his ass or something like that, but he won’t drink or do drugs, and he won’t go sleeping around. That’s better than a lot of parents can trust their kids for.” He said softly, gently rubbing Travis’s scalp, soothing him.
Travis groaned and smiled, looking at Patrick. “I’ve trusted you a lot longer than that, Patrick. And I know.” He sighed. “Even after fifteen years, it’s crazy how bad I can worry about you and Jude no matter what I do.” He said. He looked up. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened to us if we hadn’t had Jude?” he asked, curiously.
Patrick smiled. “I wouldn’t be happy like I am now.” He said, then kissed Travis gently. “I probably wouldn’t have fallen in love with you, you probably would have just let me keep hurting you by being oblivious, and I don’t care what people say about how Fall Out Boy could still be on top. I’m one of the few guys from our era who has been married ten years, living with my husband for fifteen years, and who’s kid doesn’t hate me.” He said, then smiled. “I don’t like to think about what would have happened without Jude.” He said, then smiled at Travis, who smiled back and leaned their foreheads together.
“To be honest, I like hearing you put it that way.” He said, then smirked. “And I’m lucky because I have a good home, a wonderful son, a loving husband-“ he grinned. “And my husband is still fucking sexy.” He said, grabbing Patrick’s ass playfully as he pulled him into a kiss.
Patrick snickered and pulled back. “Travis, I’m fatter and balder than ever! I’ve got forehead wrinkles too!” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’m far from sexy.” He mumbled.
Travis grinned. “To me you are hotter than hell, even at forty.” He said, then kissed him again, one hand on his ass, the other on his back. He tugged Patrick closer, moaning into the kiss when Patrick straddled him, knees on either side of his thighs on the piano bench, pushing Travis back onto the keys with a discordant array of notes. Patrick moaned, sinking his fingers into Travis’s graying hair.
“You’re still fucking sexy too.” Patrick said in a low voice, kissing Travis again. Travis picked Patrick up and sat him on the piano, his ass hitting random keys. He wrapped his legs around Travis, both of them laughing as they kissed. It had been a long time since the piano had seen THAT kind of action. “I love you, Travie.” Patrick mumbled, moaning as Travis kissed his throat, sending a blush of lust across Patrick’s fair skin.
“Hey dad, I’m- OH MY GOD, EW!” they pulled part quickly both turning to see Jude looking horrified as he covered his eyes.
Bronx snickered beside him. “Damn, I didn’t know your parents still go at it like teenagers, Jude.” He said, snorting. “We’ll leave you guys to your piano then!” he said, saluting with a cheeky grin as he grabbed Jude’s hand.
Patrick groaned. “Wait!” he called, then pushed at Travis, who set him down on the ground. Patrick ran to catch up with them. “Jude, come here.” He called, and Jude waited. Patrick looked at him, then rolled his eyes. “No.” he said simply, and pointed at the stairs.
Jude sighed. “But dad you said-“
“I said you could go out with Bronx, not go out dressed like a twenty year old Brendon Urie!” he said, looking at his son’s practically painted on clothes. “Hell no, go up stairs, put on a shirt that doesn’t show your stomach, and jeans that aren’t so tight they leave NOTHING to the imagination!” he said. “Hell, body paint would cover about as much as those clothes.” He said, nodding at the stairs.
Jude groaned. “But dad! I look good!” he said, crossing his arms.
Patrick glared firmly. “What did I say?” he asked, and Jude sighed and walked upstairs again. Patrick turned to Bronx. “You listen to me, I just defended your skinny little ass to my husband-“
“Is THAT what they call it nowadays-“ Bronx stared but Patrick stepped closer, silenced him with his glare.
“If anything happens to my son while he’s out with you, I swear to God, you’ll wish your dad had been so gay he never THOUGHT about having kids.” He said. “I know for a fact the only thing in the world you give a shit about is yourself, but Jude thinks you’re the best thing since TV and he does shit just because he thinks you’re cool.” He said. “Everybody tells me I don’t have to worry because Jude’s stronger than your hold on him, but if he does something stupid or if he gets hurt because YOU put him up to it, I’ll come after you and you’ll regret it.” He threatened.
Bronx smirked. “Go fuck your husband, Patrick. You won’t do shit to me.” He said, then turned and walked out the door. “JUDE! I’M WAITING IN THE CAR!!!”
Patrick was so angry when Jude came downstairs he didn’t even half look at his clothes, just kissed his cheek and watched him leave.
Current Mood: awake