anon_lovefest

“Hey, stalker,” Patrick calls out as he hears a dirt bike rapidly approaching. “Aren’t you a bit old to be playing with dolls?”

Pete’s bike screeches to a halt, and Hemmingway runs up to his side, panting heavily. A skeleton-gloved hand reaches up and pulls at the zip on his hoodie. The face-obscuring hood falls down, Pete’s face replacing the printed gas mask that had been there seconds before. He looks down at the doll in Patrick’s hand and his cheeks colour slightly.

“I just thought it really looks like you, and you know, since it looks like you, you might want it, and…”

“You talk to much, Peter-Pest,” Patrick says mildly. “Did you make it, because that’s a bit weird. If you did, I mean,” Patrick says, adjusting his hat.

“No, no, I just found it in my grandma’s basement, and it looks just like you, and I thought you might like it, so I…”

“You said that already,” Patrick cuts Pete off, a smile forming at the corners of his mouth. “I can’t believe there’s a doll like this though: it’s got my hoodie, it’s got my hat, for God’s sake.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty weird, it’s been in my family for decades. Maybe you just dress old-fashioned,” Pete suggests, before holding his gloved hands up in defence as Patrick scowls. “Hey, it’s that, or I’m making dolls of you. And I’m not doing that, I’m not that creepy.”

“You promise?” Patrick teases, fussing with the hat on his ‘other Patrick’. “If you’re not that creepy… you wanna come in for a drink or something? It’s kinda cold, and my mom wouldn’t mind making you cocoa, probably.”

“Yeah?” Pete asks, his voice brightening considerably. “I’d like that, yeah.” Pete heads over to his bike, but stops as he hears his grandmother’s voice shrilly calling through the air. He ignores it the first time, but she continues to call him, loud and insistent. Pete glances over his shoulder, before looking back at Patrick.

“I should… I should go,” Pete sighs, his shoulders sagging. He picks up his bike, and Hemmingway trots obediently over, ignoring the squirrel he was watching with interest. “Unless I ask her…”

“No,” Patrick interrupts, his cheeks a little pinker than Pete remembers them being. “No, you should go.”

“Oh, okay,” Pete answers, and zips his hoodie up over his face again. “See you around, Rickster.”

“It’s Patrick, Peter-Pest,” Patrick calls out to Pete’s retreating figure. “See you around,” he adds, a small grin on his face.

NOT THE OP, BUT THEY FIT THE PARTS SO WELLLLL. I adore this too much to even be anon. ♥

Thanks, glad you liked!

Eeep! OP here and I really love it!

*dubs you my hero*

Dame Hero at your service, haha.
Glad you liked it =].