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December 14th, 2008


[info]chaosmanor07:00 pm
Title: Outside of a Dog
Author: [info]chaosmanor
Rating: It's going to be for grownups only. Expect sex.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Acknowledgments: A large tip of the keyboard to AlXson BechdXl, whose 'verse I might have borrowed from a little.

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven




Chapter Nine


Patrick’s List of Hate for Monday had the usual things on it, like remembering to initiate the once-a-week fridge cleanout for the store, because if they didn’t set up a routine right at the beginning, they’d find themselves four months later with a Nuclear/Biological/Chemical alert issued on Joe’s abandoned lunches. It also had a big, fat Talk to Spencer item, right at the top, above everything else.

Pete had abandoned any pretence at wearing the Fall Out Boy uniform T-shirt, and had turned up for work half an hour late and dressed in a Don’t Google Yourself T-shirt and a white denim jacket, both of which Patrick suspected belonged to someone else, probably Mikey. “Do you want me to dump Spencer for you?” Pete asked. “I could, you know. I’ve ditched enough people to know exactly how to do it.”

“I’m just about desperate enough to actually consider your offer,” Patrick said. “Do you have any advice that’s well-adjusted?”

“There’s no good way, so you might as well minimize the inconvenience to yourself and do it quickly and cleanly,” Pete said. “Don’t hang around for the histrionics, and don’t apologize.”

Patrick shook his head in disbelief. “I’m even more amazed that any of your exes still talk to you.”

“What do you do then?” Pete asked.

Patrick thought back. “Um, I think every time I’ve broken up with someone, either they’ve dropped me, or it’s been a mutual decision, with no hard feelings.”

“You weren’t really going out with Spencer, anyway, so I can’t see why there’d be any drama,” Pete said. “In your position, I would have just stopped calling him.”

“But you’re an asshole,” Patrick said. “I took a quick poll, on your blog, if you want some confirmation.”

“You did what?!” Pete shoved Patrick away from the keyboard of the store PC, tapping at the keys frantically to log himself in.

“I’m going to go find Spencer,” Patrick said. “While you write a post explaining how you’re not actually as poorly socialized as we all think you are.”

Jon, who Patrick had only met a couple of times, was behind the counter at Panic Toys, but he waved at Patrick and said, “Hi. Spencer is out the back, with a shipment of LegX and no paperwork, if you’re looking for him.”

“Thanks,” Patrick said, squeezing around behind the counter and Jon, and into Panic’s storeroom, where Spencer was perched on top of a carton, surrounded by many other cartons, swearing steadily as he scribbled the codes of the boxes of toys beside him.

Patrick waited for Spencer to finish what he was writing, and resisted the urge to call out random numbers, then Spencer said, “Um, hi. I didn’t think I’d see you today, since you didn’t call yesterday. I thought you’d have the flu or something.”

Patrick shrugged. “I wanted to see you, face to face.”

“Uh oh,” Spencer said. “That’s not good.”

“No, it’s not. I’m not comfortable with what happened on Saturday night, with how you got wasted when we were out together. I’m Edge, and booze and pot aren’t part of my life.”

“Okay,” Spencer said. “It’s how I party, but this is something we can sort out, isn’t it?”

Patrick shoved his hands into his pockets. “Honestly? I guess it could be, except there’s an Edge guy I’m interested in. Under these circumstances, I’m just going to walk away.”

He resisted the urge to apologize, because Pete was probably right about that part, at least.

Spencer nodded, and Patrick said, “I’ll see you around,” and let himself out of the storeroom, past Jon, who wasn’t even trying to look like he hadn’t been eavesdropping.

He stopped outside the nail salon, and texted Andy, because even though Andy’s workplace was cruel and unusual, and didn’t allow Andy email or cell phone access during work hours, Andy would check both during his lunch break.

Pete looked up from the keyboard and screen, and said, “Well?” when Patrick walked back into the bookstore.

Patrick leaned against Pete and wrapped arms around him. “Done. I was callous and cruel.”

Pete hugged him back. “You heart-breaker.”

“I’m going to comment on your blog again,” Patrick said. “And let me just add ‘Pete’ to today’s List of Hate.”

“You don’t hate me,” Pete said, leaning his head contentedly on Patrick’s shoulder and possibly startling the only customer in the store, who was browsing the graphic novels.

Patrick could smell Mikey on Pete’s borrowed clothes, a little musky and sweaty, and he decided he liked the way Pete and Mikey smelled together. “No, I don’t,” Patrick admitted. “But it is still your turn to clear up the storeroom, since I did the fridge.”

***

By late afternoon, Patrick and Pete had negotiated a truce on the subject of their personal lives, after things had escalated messily.

“You shouldn’t have a password that can be guessed so easily,” Patrick said, trying to squirm free of Pete’s grip. “Then I couldn’t hijack your blog.”

“It’s not freaking easy to guess,” Pete said, tightening his hold on Patrick’s wrists. “You’re just inside my fucking head. No one else knows the name of my imaginary friend from grade school. And you shouldn’t be so thin-skinned.”

“Ow,” Patrick said, as Pete dragged his hands further up his back. “It’s not being thin-skinned I’m worried about. It’s being thin-boned.”

The guy in the suit on the other side of the counter sighed wearily. “Can I buy a book? Is it too much to ask?”

“Let go of me, Pete,” Patrick said. “There’s money involved.”

Pete let go of Patrick’s hands and ducked out of reach, in one smooth movement, and Patrick served the customer.

“Are you two brothers?” the customer asked, taking his change.

“No, best friends,” Patrick said. “But we should have been siblings.”

The customer nodded and took his book.

Joe came in next, bearing soda and corn chips for everyone, and still wearing his grubby work clothes and smelling of fertilizer. He handed Patrick a soda and sat down wearily on the carpet, leaning back against the edge of a bookcase.

“I’m ready,” Joe announced.

“For what?” Patrick asked.

“For the floor show,” Joe said. “Pete promised me some serious action, when Andy turns up here.”

Patrick turned slowly to glare at Pete, who cringed and hid behind a rack of Star Wars novels. “No, I didn’t,” Pete said. “I didn’t say anything of the sort, Joe. You’re imagining it. Hallucinating, or something.”

“Floor show?” Patrick asked Joe. “Did Pete give you any particulars?”

Joe dug into the bag of corn chips he was holding. “No, he just said to bring snacks. Hey, here’s Andy now! He’ll know.”

“I’ll know what?” Andy asked, as he swung his pack onto the counter and pulled the banking deposit bags out.

Patrick leaned across and grabbed a handful of the back of Pete’s T-shirt, just as Pete began to bolt for the storeroom door. “Why Pete is an idiot,” Patrick said.

“I can’t answer that,” Andy said. “Not in a few short sentences.”

A customer walked up to the counter, beside Andy, and Patrick let go of Pete and smiled at her. She was vaguely familiar, in a way that a lot of young dykes were. He’d either sold her books before, or they’d seen each other around the queer community somewhere.

She grinned at him and handed him the TXnk GXrl anthologies in her hands, and the money.

“Hi there,” she said. “I wondered where you’d gone to, since you weren’t at Mad Wombyn when I dropped in there earlier. I like the range here, too. Mad Wombyn would never sell me TXnk GXrl.”

“TXnk GXrl is so deeply transgressive in so many ways,” Patrick said. “You’ve got to love a comic that offends everyone all the time.”

“Hey, I just want to thank you for the advice you gave me about the glass anal screw,” the dyke said, and Patrick suddenly knew exactly which customer from Mad Wombyn Books she was. “You were completely right, and it’s just the best thing ever.”

Patrick knew he’d gone deep red, and that Pete, Joe and Andy were all listening intently, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. “Really? That’s good. Did your girlfriend like the silicon lube?”

“Ex-girlfriend,” the dyke said. “I didn’t need to worry about her too much. Now it’s just me and the anal screw, but that’s cool. Listen, you should totally sell sex toys here! I’d come here and buy toys, and I’d tell all my friends. You give the best advice.”

“Um, thanks,” Patrick said, managing to put the volumes into a bag and hand the dyke her change.

She strolled out the store, Patrick thudded his forehead against the counter, and Pete exploded in shrieks of laughter. “Just fucking kill me now,” Patrick said. “Okay?”

“She was seriously hot,” Joe’s voice announced. “Did you really sell her sex toys?”

“Go away,” Patrick said, without lifting his head. “All of you.”

“We should sell sex toys,” Pete said, between shouts of laughter. “That would be so fucking awesome.”

Andy reached behind the counter and grabbed the banking, and disappeared out to the storeroom with his pack, the banking deposit bags and the banking, and Patrick whimpered with embarrassment.

Pete elbowed Patrick, a moment later, and said, “I’ll serve customers. You go out the back.”

Patrick glanced across at Joe, who seemed to be measuring up the store for the sex toy display case, and shrugged.

“Go,” Pete hissed.

Patrick pushed the storeroom door open, and Andy looked up from where he was sitting at the folding garden chair and table that he used for cashing up. The banking was sitting untouched on the table in front of him.

The storeroom wasn’t very big, so when Andy stood up, he was right in front of Patrick, close enough to push the door closed solidly.

He leaned forward, barely touching Patrick, but close enough to whisper, “You recommended a glass anal screw? You like them?”

Random hairs from Andy’s beard prickled Patrick’s neck, and Andy’s breath was warm on his ear.

“Um, yeah,” Patrick whispered back.

“I had to stand there, in front of two of our friends and some random dyke, and find out that you get off on glass anal screws,” Andy hissed. “Do you have any fucking idea what was going through my head? I was picturing you, naked and face down on my bed, with me sliding something cold and hard into your ass. Cold and hard and slippery.”

Andy pushed him back against the storeroom door with a ‘thud’, and a cheer went up from the front of the store, from Pete and Joe, then Joe’s voice asked, “What’s an anal screw?”

Patrick was a wreck. He didn’t know whether to scream with frustration, or get down on his knees and beg. He was so turned on he could barely think, and he wasn’t going to be walking anywhere in public without something substantial, like the complete works of RobXrt JordXn, in front of him for camouflage.

“Please?” Patrick whispered, and Andy’s lips brushed against his ear.

“Please, what? Please do that to you?”

“Oh, fuck, yes.”

Andy kissed Patrick, the slowest, hottest fucking kiss ever, making Patrick grab randomly at Andy’s shoulders, just to keep himself upright. He had no idea why they’d waited so fucking long to do this, because this was obviously the best fucking idea.

Someone rapped on the other side of the storeroom door, right beside Patrick’s head, making Patrick jump and bite Andy’s tongue.

“Owfuckow,” Andy swore.

“Hey,” Pete said through the door. “Not wanting to rain on your happiness parade or anything, but I thought I should point out there’re customers in the store and that while I suspect that Andy is wonderfully discreet, I can guarantee, from a few years of close intimacy, that Patrick is a noisy fucker.”

Patrick banged his head back against the storeroom door. “Go away,” he said. “Now.”

Andy planted one hand on the door and leaned against Patrick, and fuck, he wasn’t the only one who was turned on.

“How noisy?” Andy asked, his voice low. “Can you keep it down? Because I don’t think either of us are getting out of this storeroom any other way.”

“I’ll try,” Patrick said.

Andy dragged his teeth across Patrick’s neck, scraping the skin, then he pulled away from Patrick far enough to get his hands between them and undo Patrick’s jeans.

Patrick’s jeans crumpled around his knees, then Andy’s hands crept under the edge of his T-shirt, palms smoothing across his sides, fingers brushing up his ribs, moving slowly, so that Patrick shivered.

In the front of the store, Pete served a customer, the register drawer banging closed, and Joe grappled with the basics of anal sex toys, saying, “What? Is it really made of glass? And why would a girl want one?”

Andy’s lips pressed against Patrick’s ear. “My place, tonight. You and me, in my bed.” Andy’s hands pushed Patrick’s boxers down, and there was a moment of pure bliss as Andy’s fingers found Patrick’s cock.

“Yesyesyes,” Patrick gasped, because with how he was feeling, it was going to be over embarrassingly soon.

“Turn around,” Andy whispered, stepping back and almost colliding with the folding chair behind him.

Patrick thought about arguing, because damn it, Andy was getting undressed, but on the other hand, the quicker he complied, the sooner he’d be naked from the waist down and facing away from Andy…

Damn, Andy didn’t rustle through his pack, and that was probably a good call, with Joe, Pete and an unknown number of customers listening. Patrick would be up for fucking with Pete listening, and Joe must be desensitized to the whole thing, since Pete didn’t have a real bedroom door, but the customers wouldn’t necessarily be so cool.

Patrick almost fell over, with his jeans and underwear around his knees, but he managed to get himself braced against the door. The first touch of Andy’s hands on his hips was gentle, then one hand pushed up, under Patrick’s T-shirt, to his shoulder, gripping tightly.

The other hand drifted across Patrick’s buttock, and Andy whispered, “I know there are people around, but you still have to tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

“Don’t stop.”

Andy’s breathing was harsh in Patrick’s ear, as the length of one of his fingers slid down the crack of Patrick’s ass, and Andy growled, “Okay, not stopping.” His fingertips circled, behind Patrick’s balls, then back, across Patrick’s ass, and one finger pressed in slowly.

“Touch yourself,” Andy whispered. “Can you do that for me?”

Andy moved, cock rubbing against Patrick’s hip, trailing wetness, and fuck, Andy was grinding against Patrick, pushing a finger in, breath roaring in his ear, and Patrick grabbed his own cock with one hand and clamped the other one over his mouth.

“What do you think they’re doing back there?” Joe asked, in the front of the store, and Patrick bit his hand hard enough to draw blood in his attempt to stay quiet.

“Shh, I’m trying to listen,” Pete said. “Hi, can I help you with that book? That’ll be $6.99.”

“Gonna fuck you so slow and hard,” Andy whispered. “Wanna find out how to make you scream.”

The finger inside Patrick moved, pushing and curling, hitting the fucking jackpot, and it was all fucking over. Patrick bit down on the webbing of his hand, jerked at his cock with his other hand hard, and came over the back of the storeroom door, Andy’s arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him upright.

“Go Team Patrick,” Pete called out, from the front of the store. “Good one!”

“Did he just…? How could you tell?” Joe asked. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Psychically connected,” Pete said. “Hi there. Did you want to buy that RobXn HXbb?”

“Do you know when the next in the series is released?” an unfamiliar voice asked, and Patrick rested his forehead against the storeroom door and thought about killing both Pete and Joe.

Except Andy hadn’t come yet, and he was jerking himself off against Patrick’s hip, knuckles bumping against Patrick, forehead pressed against Patrick’s shoulder.

Normally, Patrick would get pretty strident if someone was planning on taking those kind of liberties with his skin and clothes, but he had a feeling that he was heading somewhere none of the rules applied with Andy, and besides, they weren’t going anywhere except directly to Andy’s place and bed, so it didn’t matter if he smelled of come.

Andy whimpered, just once, and then come trickled down Patrick’s thigh, hot and wet, and Patrick’s cock hadn’t really had enough, and wanted more.

Andy half-squatted, half-fell, and bit and licked at Patrick’s thigh.

“Not helping,” Patrick said, turning enough that his cock collided with Andy’s forehead.

Andy’s thumbs dug into Patrick’s hips, and for a moment Patrick thought Andy was going to suck him, then Andy shook his head slowly and stood up.

“Let’s get out of here.”

No food preparation area utilized by Joe could exist without paper towels, so after Patrick had done his jeans back up, he grabbed a handful and wiped down the back of the storeroom door, thus proving he was possibly slightly more considerate than Pete. Only slightly, of course, because if he truly cared about other people’s squeamishness, he wouldn’t have made the mess in the first place.

When Patrick opened the door and walked out into the store, Joe applauded and Pete jumped at Patrick, arms around Patrick’s neck, legs around his waist, knocking him backwards into Andy.

The three of them went down, onto the carpet, at the feet of the bemused customer browsing the gaming tie-ins, and Patrick hugged Pete back.

Pete buried his face against Patrick’s neck and sniffed, then lifted his head to grin at Patrick and Andy. “Hi,” Pete said. “You two going home now?”

“That’s the plan,” Patrick said. “Could you get off me?”

The customer stepped over Patrick’s legs disapprovingly, and stalked out of the store.

Pete shuffled backwards, down Patrick, and his grin got wider. “You smell damned funky. What the fuck did you two do?”

Andy pulled his legs out from under Patrick and got to his feet, then hauled Pete off Patrick. “Thanks for covering for Patrick at the store, Pete.”

Pete hugged Andy. “Anything to help out. And don’t worry, I’ll make Patrick tell me, next time I get him alone.”

Patrick retrieved his pack from under the counter, and his keys and phone from the drawer under the register, then followed Andy out of the store.

In Andy’s car, Patrick said, “You know, I had a List of Hate for today. I’m kind of hoping it’s over now, and that Pete and Joe were the last things on it.”

“I can imagine it’s been a shitty day for you. Mine’s merely been… frustrating.”

Patrick glanced at Andy and grinned. “Really? I’ve had Pete torturing me all day. Then there was the Spencer thing to deal with. We got a shipment of romance novels and meditation tapes that had to be sorted out. The register drawer wouldn’t open all morning because Joe put food in it yesterday. Ryan glared at me on his way past the store, and I’d swear I’ve still got burn marks. And Mikey arrived during his lunch break, and believe me, Mikey and Pete weren’t as quiet as we were. Joe turned up, with snacks, because apparently Pete had promised him some kind of floor show with you.”

“Mikey and Pete weren't on the fridge?” Andy asked.

“No, I believe on the floor. Why are we driving to my place, not yours?”

“Supplies,” Andy said. “You do have essential equipment, don’t you? You wouldn’t endorse a product to that nice lesbian when you didn’t own one, would you?”

Patrick slumped back in his seat. “Hi Mom. You exchange vegan recipes with Andy while I collect my sex toys. Won’t be long.”

“The thing is, you could say that to your mom,” Andy said. “And all she’d want to know is how long we’ve been sleeping together.”

“I don’t want to say that to my mom!” Patrick said, far too loudly. “Really! I’d rather not talk about my sex toys, or hers, with her ever again!”

“Your mom is cool,” Andy said. “And she does have some great recipes.”

“Argh,” Patrick said. “List of Hate, new entry.”

Patrick’s mom, who considered Andy a nice boy, did drag Andy off to the kitchen to force packets of frozen lasagna on him while Patrick emptied his pack onto his bed, then refilled it with toys, his laptop and phone recharger, and a change of clothes.

His pack clinked faintly, as he hugged his mom goodbye. “Won’t be back tonight,” Patrick said.

“Are you crashing at Pete’s?” his mom asked, with the faintly concerned look that Patrick’s semi-residence at Pete’s apartment sometimes gave her.

“Um, no, Andy’s place,” Patrick said.

Patrick might fail at sub-text reading, but his mom was an expert. Her eyebrows shot up, and she swung around to look at Andy. “This is new,” she said. “When did this all happen?”

“Going now,” Patrick said, grabbing Andy’s arm and dragging him out of the kitchen. “Not talking about this.”

“Bye, Andy,” Patrick’s mom called out. “Welcome to the family. Don’t bother bringing Patrick back in a hurry.”

“How did she know?” Patrick asked, getting back into Andy’s car, pack between his feet. “How the fuck can she tell?”

“One, you smell like you’ve just had sex,” Andy said, reversing the car out onto the road. “Two, you have bite marks on your neck. Three, you look so happy, you’re almost levitating. Want me to keep going?”

“Fuck you,” Patrick said.

“It’s all open for negotiation,” Andy said. “We can certainly talk about that option.”

Patrick groaned, and said, “Can I jerk off in your car?”

“Not unless you want me to crash it,” Andy said. “Might be a good idea to not distract me too much.”

Patrick sat in silence, trying not to think too much about what they were about to do, until Andy parked his car outside the house he shared.

“Um, there’s one thing,” Andy said. “Your List of Hate…”

“What?” Patrick asked, reaching for his pack.

“I was the first person to leave the house this morning, and I know Rossman didn’t start work until midday, and Matt the Asshole had the day off.”

Patrick froze, the car door open. “And?”

“I’m not sure what sort of condition my room will be in.”

Patrick got out of the car. “Your housemates will have trashed your room?”

Andy looked embarrassed, which was something that happened so rarely that Patrick couldn’t actually recall having seen it before. “Believe me, that would be a good option. They knew I was hoping you’d come home with me tonight, and they might have decided that, based on having put up with me talking about you for some considerable time, that they should, um, help. Or seek revenge.”

Patrick leaned against the top of Andy’s car. “Some considerable time, hey? Exactly how long?”

Andy closed his car door. “Do you want to hear this?”

“Absolutely.”

“Since Joe first brought you along to gaming, and you were regrettably underage.”

Patrick slung his pack over his shoulder and grinned at Andy. “Let’s go and see what your long-suffering housemates have done to your room.”

The house wasn’t empty, but everyone who was home seemed to be in their own rooms with the doors closed, which Patrick was grateful for. At the door to Andy’s room, Andy held up a hand, and Patrick stayed back as Andy pushed the door open cautiously with his foot.

Patrick could smell something cloying and sweet coming from the room, and he wrinkled his nose. “Did they jello-and-frosting your bed?” he asked Andy, as Andy peered around the door, then slammed the door shut. “Joe did that to Pete once.”

“They’d have to use agar-agar jello, which is a bit expensive,” Andy pointed out. “This is worse. Much worse.”

He opened the door again, and stood aside to let Patrick look inside.

The ceiling of the room was packed with pink helium-filled balloons, dangling ribbons, and the blankets on the bed were pulled back, the sheet covered in what looked and smelled horribly like rose petals.

“No,” Patrick said, and he clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing.

“Yes,” Andy said resignedly. “I have no fucking idea where they got the satin sheets from, but whoever lent them is going to regret it when we’ve finished with them.”

Andy lent back out, into the hallway and called out, “Nice one! Now all of you turn up your music and put your headphones on!”

The door with the Hellboy poster opened a crack, and Matt peered out. “Did you like it?”

“Very classy,” Andy said. “Fuck off now, Matt.”

“Okay. Hi, Patrick.”

“Hi, Matt,” Patrick said. “You made my List of Hate today.”

“I feel honored,” Matt said, then he closed his bedroom door again.

Patrick put down his pack in Andy’s room, and watched Andy scoop the worst of the rose petals off the bed and onto the floor.

“Know what the ironic thing is?” Andy said, wiping his hands on his shirt and standing in front of Patrick.

Patrick shook his head, not sure he could talk without laughing.

Andy rubbed gentle knuckles against Patrick’s cheek. “Later on, when it’s dark, I was going to get candles out, because I’ve got this fantasy about how you’d look like that, the shadows on your skin, when you’re flushed and red.”

“Oh, fuck, that’s how you set fire to yourself,” Patrick said, and not laughing wasn’t an option. He sat down on the edge of the bed, doubled over and clutching at his stomach, and gave in to the laughter.

Andy slid across the bed beside him and poked him in the ribs. “That wasn’t actually a solo event, you know.”

Patrick took a deep breath, and tried to stop laughing. “Like that makes it any fucking better. Now it makes it look like you break out the candles for everyone you fuck. Welcome to the fucking list, Andy.”

The look of horror on Andy’s face was so fucking classic that Patrick collapsed back on the bed and surrendered to the laughter completely.

on to the next chapter

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