Chapter Text
Patrick suspects the universe is telling him something. Something that clearly sounds like strange, skinny, slightly weird bassists are your destiny. Which isn’t a problem in itself, it’s just. Those strange, skinny, slightly weird bassists always come complete with baggage and quirks.
It’s why he’s found himself struggling to pull a fluffy pink jumper onto a wiggling cat, a task that seems impossible, and Patrick’s wondering what he’s done to deserve this.
“Hey,” Mikey says, and he crouches down, smiling as he runs his fingers along a small furred ear. “He looks great, you both do.” He looks up then, and his smile changes from one of affection to something more, something richer and intense, and Patrick gulps as he finally eases a cuff over a delicate paw.
Mikey rests his hand against Patrick’s jaw, long fingers and calloused fingertips, and he leans in, careful of the now purring cat. “You’re a natural.”
Patrick doesn’t agree, but he nods anyway, his eyes fluttering shut as Mikey brushes his lips against Patrick’s. The touch whisper soft, more a promise than an actual kiss.
“Pictures!”
Abruptly, Mikey’s gone, and Patrick should be used to this, because he’s spent a lifetime surrounded by people who spend their lives in quickfire motion, their rhythm that beat faster than his own. Except Mikey is gone for moments only, returning with a camera held in his hand.
Mikey sits next to Patrick, and his head is pressed against Patrick’s cheek, his hair tickling as he shifts, pulling the cat so he’s held under their chins, a pink jumpered ball of fluff. Patrick can’t help grinning when Mikey stretches out his arm, hand twisted so he can shoot a self picture, and says, “smile!”
The picture hits the internet the next day.
Five minutes after that, both Pete and Gerard call.