art gets stood up at mclarens so patrick gets drunk with him to make him feel better but they just end up hooking up in artās apartment. bonus points if tashi finds them the next morning and art thinking his chances with tashi are ruined (but lowkey she doesnāt really mind)
"She's not coming, man."
The chatter of MacLaren's is all that Art can really hear, his head craned to look at the door and flinching every time it swings open. "You don't know that," he mutters, sipping his beer, and looking over at Patrick. "She works as a realtor. She's probably just tying up some loose ends. She's on her way."
Patrick rolls his eyes at Art's insistence, swishing his scotch around in his glass. "It's been half an hour, Artie boy. Realtors don't even have a real job, she could've been here an hour early if she wanted to." He seems shocked when Art glares at him, shrugging innocently.
"You're being a dick," Art murmurs, hunching over his glass as he keeps staring at the door, chewing on his lip anxiously. "She's gonna show up."
Patrick stays at the bar as an hour passes, watching as Art's form grew more slumped and hunched over. Finally, after two hours had gone by, the blonde turned to his friend, big blue eyes glassy and a frown pulling down his lips. "...I don't think she's coming," he says, voice almost unheard underneath the din of the bar.
Patrick smiles sympathetically at Art, flagging down the bartender and ordering another glass of scotch. "Told you, man. Chin up." He slides the drink over to his friend, a cocky grin plastered on his face. "You don't need her to have a good time."
Despite his disappointment, Art can feel his lips curl up into a smile, taking the glass and clinking it against his friend's. "Cheers," he says reluctantly, and Patrick shoves him playfully.
"Atta fucking boy."
The bar becomes their territory, with Patrick protecting Art like a mother bear. With Patrick's bottomless pockets, their glasses are never empty, and by the end of the night, Art and Patrick are stumbling back upstairs to Art's apartment, lights strobing in their heads and words slurring.
"Thanks for hanging out with me, dude," Art calls out from where he collapses onto the couch, and Patrick shuffles around the kitchen aimlessly, looking for something to eat. "I thought- I wanted her to come, but, you..." Art looks up with bleary eyes as Patrick sits on the couch next to him, heavy head laying onto Art's shoulder. "You're, like, the best bro ever."
Patrick laughs at that, looking up at Art. His glossy blue eyes gazed back down at him, lower lashes casting shadows onto his flushing cheeks. Art's always been very pretty, almost in a girl-like sense, but through the haze of alcohol and feeling his best friend pressed so close against his body, it makes something in his stomach flip...
It doesn't take long until Patrick's lips are abruptly crashing into Art's, the taste of cigars and scotch mingling with Art's naturally sweet taste. They clash together, hands gripping at each other shirts as the clumsily unbutton them, slamming into the bedroom door and knocking it wide open. The door smacks against the other side, nearly knocking over a painting that Tashi had left the other day, and Art pulls away to hurriedly fix it.
Patrick rolls his eyes, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and settling onto Art's bed, kicking his shoes off and pulling his socks away. "Hurry up," he grouses, watching with hungry eyes as Art stumbles over and collapses on the bed next to him, tripping over his feet because of how his pants were pooled at his ankles. He oomphs when he lands atop Patrick's chest, grinning up at his friend. Art's lithe fingers trace down Patrick's chest, all the way down his happy trail before wrapping around his leaking dick. It jumps against his stomach at the contact, and Art places a gentle kiss right along the tip.
"Can I-?" Art doesn't even have to finish the question before Patrick's pulling him closer, chests flush against one another as Art rummages around in his abandoned jeans pocket for a condom. The blonde can feel Patrick's erection poke against his thigh in anticipation, and a keening groan escapes his lips when he pulls away, tearing the condom wrapper open with shaky hands and rolling it on.
Art spits into his open palm and jerks himself off, watching with adoring eyes as Patrick spreads his legs wide, his cock bobbing and leaking onto his stomach. "Ready?" Art whispers, reassuring hands grounding onto Patrick's hips as the head of his length prods against the brunette's twitching hole. Patrick nods with a cocky grin on his face, quickly wiped off his face once Art pushes in.
Patrick's chapped lips part, slack-jawed, and Art's head tips back as he bottoms out. "Ohhhh, fuck, Pat-" Art mewls, swallowing thickly as he begins to slowly thrust, watching as Patrick's dick twitches and he seems to clench around him. "Shit- don't- don't do that," the blonde pleads desperately.
His thrusts are gentle, pressing against Patrick's prostate with each one and relishing at the feeling of Patrick's hole squeezing around him, his hands wrapped around Art's biceps in a similar fashion. "You feel so good in me," Patrick rasps, his voice weaker than Art's ever heard in his life.
"Yeah?" Art pants, speeding up his thrusts and causing Patrick to whimper. The brunette starts to jerk himself off, sensing himself nearing to the edge. Art moans at how deliciously Patrick seems to tighten around him, hips stuttering and moving faster. "Oh ff-fuck, Pat, you're so fucking tight," he groans, sweaty curls sticking to his forehead.
Patrick's moans pitch up in cadence and volume, his other hand gripping the bedsheets as he strokes himself hurriedly. "I'm gonna fucking cum," he growls, his stomach tightening as Art keeps pounding away at his prostate. "Keep- keep doing that- don't stop-"
Art's two steps ahead of him, already buried deep in Patrick's warm hole and shooting a load inside, his moans tearing through his throat as he weakly tries to thrust deeper, despite the fact of him having a condom on.
The sight of Art moaning and falling apart on top of him is enough to send Patrick over, cum splattering onto his and Art's chest as he moans, loud enough that Art can feel it vibrating through his body. They lay like that for a bit, brains slowly catching up to speed with what their bodies were doing before Art pulls out, tying off the condom and shuffling away from the bed to toss it. Patrick wraps a blanket around him, watching as Art leaves and comes back. "I can stay, right?" Patrick's voice is timid, as if Art could ever kick him out.
The blonde collapses next to Patrick, tucking his face into Patrick's neck and nodding. "Please stay," is all he says before he's snoring, naked body pressed up against Patrick. He sighs in relief, eyelids growing heavy, and he gives in to the warm comfort of having Art beside him.
They're awoken unceremoniously the next morning, banging pots and pans in the kitchen. The door to Art's room is ajar, and there's someone else outside. Art's the first to wake, sitting up and blinking blearily, and when Patrick tries to do the same, he winces and lays back down.
"Hello?" Art calls out, drawing the blanket up to his chest, and footsteps approach his room.
Tashi stands in the doorway, a cup of coffee in her hand and a smug smile on her lips. "Morning, princess," she says, watching with glee at how Art's face flushes. She takes a sip of her coffee, wiggling her finger between the two men.
"So. You two, huh?" she grins, and Art's quick to shake his head.
"No! No, Tash, I- it isn't what it looks like- me and Pat, we just got, like, so drunk, and we-"
"It's okay." Tashi shrugs, cutting off Art's awkward rambling. Beside Art, Patrick's smirking too, his expression matching Tashi's. "I've always wanted two boyfriends, anyway."
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