Uhmm, I lied. I wrote a fic.


Title: Txt Msg <3
Author: me!
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: pg-13.
POV: Patrick.
Summary: “Oh my god, are you retarded? You love him. You sing bout him loving you every single night to thousands of people, how do you not know?”
“…I just didn’t.”
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot. I do not claim to own anything. Except the plot, which was previously mentioned
Author Notes: I wrote this early in the morning, it was supposed to be a starting of a fic, but I didn't think I needed to say anything else. If you think I do. I'll write a sequel. Also? there is no way that you can prove that the word "PatrickPatrickPatrick" has been added to my computer vocabulary. It is impossible.
Beta: My friend Mallory, No lj, No links for you.

“Patrick It’s me, I feel you should definitely answer your phone, This is like the 3rd time I’ve called you all day.” Patrick laughed at that, No, Pete It was like the 8th time. “Patrick, come on, please answer your phone. I need to talk to you.”
It was obviously important if Pete was saying need. As if. Pete was just going to have to wait. Patrick was in the studio helping Gym Class Heroes. He could wait. Patrick sent a quick text.
In the studio. I’ll call you later, if its absolutely important and life threatening, txt me back. Bye.
Pete immediately texted back.
It is important. I need to tell you.
Patrick thought about not replying, but he could see the urgency in Pete’s text.
Need to tell me what?
I love you.
That was a new one. Patrick went to go and ask Travis.
“Trav, whats up with this?” Patrick showed the text to Travis.
“Uhmm, yo, homie… Duh. Your supposed to be smarter then Pete in the love department. Dude, what the hell? Why are you still here. Go get him.”
Patrick stared blankly at Travis.
“Oh my god, are you retarded? You love him. You sing bout him loving you every single night to thousands of people, how do you not know?”
“…I just didn’t.”
***
Pete, wtf?
Patrick, you stupid fucker I lvoe you.
Can you come over?
Be there in 5.
***
Pete walked into Patrick’s house, and fell onto the couch. He then pulled out his sidekick and started typing. Patrick got a text message.
I have to type it I cnt say it outloud I need to se emy words
“Pete what the fuck?”
I cant talk unless you type too.
“Oh my god. You are insane.”
No trick your insane.
PATRICK!?!?!?!?
“Pete, I am not playing your silly little games.”
But Patrick. You need to play.
And if Patrick is impressed by this sudden use of grammar and proper use of capitalization he does not, will not say anything. “Pete, I play too many of your games.” Patrick sighs as his phone rings signaling another text message.
Patrick? Ilu.
Pete? Ilu2.
Pete beamed, “Do you mean it? Are you like for real?” Patrick sighed.
***
“Patrick? Patrickpatrick? Patrickpatrickpatrickpatrick?”
“hngnf.”
“Patrick, I hear the birds.”
“Pete, ‘s 5:30 in the mornin, ‘leepy time. Night.”
“Patrickpatrickpatrick.”
“Pete, I swear to god I will rip your tongue out though your very sore ass if you don’t shut up and go back to sleep.”
“Ooo, fisting. Kinky.” Patrick made a gesture that he hoped was threatening.
“Pete, shut up.”
“Kill joy.”
“PETE! Shut the fuck up.”