#patrick pov

but i wanna hold ya

like it's june in the west end

back when you were my best friend

before love came to kill us

we're not supposed to

but i can't learn my lesson

i miss when you were my best friend (yes, i do)

before love came to kill us

Let Me See Your Beauty Broken Down

E | 2K | David/Patrick | Fluff & Smut | Relationship Firsts | Patrick POV

There is something all-encompassing, in a general yet very specific sort of way, in how this man does everything. This very specific man, in his general but very specific store, has quite generally captured every specific part of this business-major-in-midrange-denim’s heart, and there doesn’t seem to be any chance of him letting go of it anytime soon.

I got carried away af with this. I hope its up to standard, and since i used “you’re mine and I watch everything you do” already, I did the first prompt. Also, this is a one shot, I will not be doing another part, so enjoy it as a singular work, my duderinos.

Prompt Used: “You’re being too friendly with them”

Word Count: +2,500

Warnings: Possessiveness, drugging, that good kush, Patrick POV. Tozier!Reader.

Tagged: @dreamboathannah, @restoftheworldfallsaway @ghoulishtozier @itwasmathilda, @fangirlinganditswonders, @neoandersons, @basicwheeler, @leetime14, @passionfortrashin

(Anyone who wanted to be tagged for WYS automatically gets tagged for my other Patrick works as a bonus, my duderinos. Message me -through pm-  if you want to also be tagged! Love y’all.)

Patrick leaned against the front of his car, wiping the motor oil off his long fingers and watching the Tozier girl while she helped their classmates. Her hair was rolled up into a tight bun, the dark green button up she had worn over her t shirt all day tied at her waist while she peered under the hood of Dylan Pram and Cole Harris’ project car.

She was talking some auto mechanic nonsense and pointing out where their problems mostly laid, the two dipshits at her side feigning cluelessness. Patrick knew their game, others in the class had tried it once or twice too, but to no avail. He would know best, [First Name] was fucking oblivious when it came to flirting.

Dylan stepped closer to her as she rummaged under the hood, and Patrick’s fingers flexed under the rag he rubbed them with when the jock rested a firm hand on her lower back and spoke in her ear.

He must have said something utterly hilarious, because the trashmouth choked on a laugh and straightened. Cole shared their smile, but his eyes connected with Dylan, a silent conversation running between them as Patrick’s partner parted from them with a wave and a soft laugh.

“Nice one, Dylan. Remember to clean it up when you’re done, dude.” She waved them off, coming back to Patrick with flushed cheeks from her laughter. Behind her, eyes and sly grins sought her back, and Patrick ignored them, smirking at the Toizer girl when she arrived.

“You’re being too friendly with them, Tozier.” He said quietly, tossing the dirtied rag over the top of his tool box. “They’re going to think you got the hots for ‘em.”

“Who? Cole and Dylan?” Her lips tilted in a cute little lopsided grin. “I thought they were going to announce their engagement soon, I had no idea they swung for the other team.”

He allowed a laugh, but a certain fondness for the girl startled him. She was starting to really soften him up, and day by day he found himself leaning closer and speaking more frequently with her. Gone were the earlier days of the truly antagonistic ways since Henry had dropped his grudge towards her cousin and his friends, and Patrick had grown used to falling instep beside her while walking to class.

He guessed that this would be called friendship.

So that was clearly why a strange fire built in his stomach when he caught Dylan eyeing his partner with particularly hungry eyes, because she was his friend…Then again, his underlying pining for her also applied to that, but he would never admit that aloud.

No, he was a good actor. He could win a god damn academy award for his patience and tactful thinking. Patrick could keep [First Name] in the dark over his, well he hated to say feelings, but yes, feelings, for her.

So he frowned, and easily slipped into the role of a concerned friend, nudging her with his elbow as she went to sit on the hood of the Monte Carlo.

“What?” She mirrored his frown, resting her ankle across her knee and drumming painted nails on her jeans.

“Don’t think we’re the only bad guys around here, Princess. There’s plenty of sleazy fuckers hiding behind a football jersey in Derry.” He warned with earnest, but was met with a scoff.

“Dylan and Cole are fucking nimrods, and they couldn’t fix a lightbulb together if they tried.” She waved him off as the class bell rang. “I’ll see you at the bonfire tonight, yeah?”

Patrick had done his duty, he had given her the passing warning. It was up to her to listen, he supposed.

“Yeah. I’m bringing some good shit too, hope you’re not as fucking uppity as you were last time.” He bent his lean form down, collecting his leather jacket that was draped over the hood as Tozier slipped off the front and snatched up her backpack. “See you around eight.”

“Adios, Hockstetter. Don’t keep Bowers waiting.”

She left, patting Belch’s arm as she headed out past him and Henry. She said something in passing, making Belch smile after her. Henry watched her go as well, a certain gleam in his eyes as Patrick came to meet them by one of the open garage doors.

“Glad we don’t have to worry about being ambushed with a fucking tire iron now.” The bigger boy said, pulling his varsity jacket over his shoulders. The three watched her go, her back growing smaller as she jogged across the fields to get to the parking lot.

Henry huffed indignantly. “She was going to be a fucking problem, that’s the only reason I’m not tormenting her little shit of a cousin. Cigs?”

He threw a hand out to Patrick, demanding the taller boy share his pack. Patrick complied, digging around the pockets of his jacket before tossing him the pack, the trio of boys heading across the field as students began to file out of the school in mobs.

“She’s a good work partner too,” Belch said absently, the spring air nipping his cheeks pink. “I got an A on our last assignment, my coach and Ma were in tears, swear.”

“Yeah, whatever. Goody two shoe bitches like her are a dime a dozen, but I’m not gonna deal with another run in with her.” Henry muttered, lighting his cigarette after a few tries and stuffing Patrick’s pack in his own back pocket, something that the lankier boy would not forget before the day was through.

“Sounds like you got a crush, Henry.” Patrick dared to say, eyes lazily raking over the boy next to him. Henry tensed, shoulders under his bomber jacket rigid as he sent a glare to Patrick.

They both held a steely gaze before Belch interrupted, announcing the arrival of their smallest and blondest, Vic.

“Hey! Did you get the part?” Belch called out to the victorious looking boy, who nodded eagerly.

Henry took the opportunity to look away, but Patrick chose to keep a dark look on his friend. The rest of his pals dissolved into talk over Vic’s newest accomplishment, Henry berating him and Belch defending him, while Patrick ignored it all. He was itching to get to the canalside and have a good time, if only just to abolish the jealousy he felt twisting in his gut.

He didn’t have time for that shit.

Patrick sat the closest to the bonfire, the heat curling the ends of his hair, but significantly warming his fingers that had numbed from the cold of a spring night in Maine. There had been a girl at his side at some point, but she was long gone, having moved on to someone who was more interested in her than staring into the depths of flames.

Henry and Belch had raced off elsewhere the moment the four had found the party, Vic staying close to Patrick for a while until he was led away by a few drama friends of his. Patrick was happy to be alone in all honesty, it made dealing and keeping his high all the easier. The party raged around him, fellow classmates dancing and drinking away, high on the drugs he supplied or drunk off cheap liquor and nasty beer. The music that blasted through speakers was crackled and heavy, something with a strange beat and sliced with dark lyrics. Patrick enjoyed it, sitting by himself and waiting for his next costumer to find him.

He felt a lovely haze, his high improving his mood tenfold. There was a sloppy kiss mark on his neck, but he could barely recall who had given it to him. It was perfection.

And then someone plopped down beside him.

“You’re a hard guy to find, Hockstetter.” Drawled a voice to his side.

“Am I?” Patrick said loftily, slowly turning to look to his new companion, and then felt his nostrils flare upon recognizing him. “Harris.”

The brunette bristled, and Patrick realized he had turned to face him without a mask, instead showing him the slack and emotionless state he normally had when he was alone. He brought it back, and Cole was set to ease at the surprisingly friendly smile he was given.

“So how much?” He asked, and dug out his wallet, opening the folds and showing off a pretty stack of cash.

Patrick felt limply at his side, finding his backpack and unzipping it. “What do you want? I’ve got weed, coke, E, a few poppers and a few tabs of acid if you wanna have a real good time.”

Cole sat still for a second, eyes darting around the contents of the bag. He licked dry lips before lowering his voice, barely audible over the roar of the flames.

“Do you have any… Roofies?”

“Why.” The dealer snapped, more forceful than needed.

“Do you or don’t you?” Cole insisted, keeping his voice low even as Patrick’s raised. It wasn’t as if anyone would hear them, but it didn’t matter to either of them- they both knew Cole has crossed a line.

“I’ve got some Molly, and that’s the closest you’re getting, Harris.” Patrick dug out a small bag of violet pills, smacking them to Cole’s chest. “Don’t be a fucking idiot. Thats a gram, so give me sixty.”

Cole eyed him, hand raising to take the drugs offered. “You sure-”

“Sixty bucks, then fuck off.” Patrick sneered, and snatched the twenties that were held out to him, stuffing the money in his pocket.

“Jesus, fuck. Fine.” Cole stood, and shuffled away, pocketing his drugs before casting his dealer a nasty little glare.

Patrick watched him retreat with his tail between his legs, digging into his bag for a joint. He lit it and took heavy hits, the smoke tasting musky but sweet. The haze returned eventually, distracting him as he sat there. He took patient drags, letting the smoke curl and twist from his mouth, ignoring the worry that scratched at his thoughts, it wasn’t his business. Harris wasn’t his problem.

But Tozier was.

He stood then, hauling his bag over his shoulder and walking over the rocks and gravel that crunched under his feet, weaving between crowds of grinding teens. What time was it? Where was Tozier, he hadn’t seen her yet.

Fuck.

Somehow, through his high and the distraction of the dancing and drunkenness, he found Belch. The boy was working on a drink of his own, the brown bottle in his hand nearly empty and his face flushed.

“What time is it?” Patrick demanded, Belch blinking in surprise as the urgency. The boys he stood with part of his football team and seeming confused at Patrick’s arrival, but they welcomed him with a round of nods.

“Uh,” Belch shook his arm, the watch he normally wore glinting in the far off fire light. “It’s like eight forty-seven, why?”

Patrick’s gaze swept the heads of their classmates, but he couldn’t find hers. “Have you seen Tozier?”

“No?” Belch said, caught off guard as Patrick spun away with a curse. “Hey! Wait, dude!”

But Patrick was gone, slinking away and now targeting Harris or Pram. A blond and brunette pair, who wore blazers and had proper preppy haircuts.

[First Name] was never late. To anything. She arrived nearly twenty minutes early for class, she turned in her work a day in advance and had never left him or the others hanging if she agreed to meet them up for a meal at the malt shop.

So there was no way she was late to the spring bonfire, not if she had assured him she would be there at eight. No, she would have arrived at seven forty-five.

He caught a mullet in his peripheral vision, as well as the arm candy Henry was desperately sucking face with.

“Henry.” Patrick jerked his shoulder, tearing him from liplock. The girl, a senior the dark haired boy recognized as Carly Henderson, whined from loss of contact.

“The fuck, Hockstetter!” Henry hissed, grinding his teeth as he rolled his head to face his friend. “I’m fuckin’ busy.”

“I can’t find Tozier.”

Henry’s brows furrowed. “I saw her earlier with Harris and that fuckwit Pram, by the coolers.”

Patrick’s jaw set, and he dug his heels into the rocks, sprinting away. He shoved aside a few people, the coolers in his sight. It was then he saw Tozier, leaning heavily against Dylan Pram and in the middle of a fit of giggles, her eyes glazed and face burning. She held a solo cup, the contents sloshing out her cup as Cole Harris tilted it back to her mouth, encouraging her to drink.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” The pair cheered, and she downed the contents, crushing the cup with a valiant cry.

He slowed, coming up on them slow and steady, a predatory tilt to his shoulders as his eyes burned hotter than the logs of the bonfire. Cole was the first to see him, and his expression flattered a mere second before he paled considerably.

Pram was oblivious, carelessly crafting heavy touches to the girls waist and hips, the hands trying to wander further before Cole shot a hand out and gripped the sleeve of his blazer, catching his attention.

“Well, what do we have here?” Patrick announced his arrival with a dangerous tone.

His friend gasped, and she tore herself from the blond, taking a few steps to stumble to the man who had inevitably caused this mess, wrapping her arms around his skinny torso. “Patrick! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Protectively, no, posessively, Patrick secured her in his arms. He threaded strands of her hair between his ringed fingers, rubbing a comforting thumb to her scalp. “You found me, Princess.”

She nuzzled her face to his chest and he held her there, grey-green eyes dancing with malevolence at the boys just feet from them.

It wouldn’t take a genius to see she was high, and higher than he had ever seen her. She had always been a lightweight, barely touching a beer and still stumbling around like she had drank a bar dry after a few sips. He’d given her a hit of a joint once and been entertained for hours as she babbled on about Star Trek with Belch and professional wrestling with Henry.

Those had been good times, he had smiled an actual smile once or twice during those times. But now? Seeing her fucked up on drugs he had sold some fuckwit jock with intent to do the worst? He saw red.

“You smell nice.” She murmured, and it was only her voice that stopped from him slugging the frozen pair in front of them. She drew him back from his rage, and he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, his hold tightening.

“Let’s get you some water, sweetheart.” Patrick said, and he turned with her, the hollow glare he shot over his shoulder sending a clear message.

‘I’ll remember this.’