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Pete sighed and downed another glass of champagne in a decidedly unbusinesslike manner. Copious amounts of alcohol are just about the only thing that can get him through these fancy company parties the record label insists on holding. He knows he probably shouldn’t get completely wasted, being one of the top executives and all, but just a little bit of alcohol never hurt anybody. He can already feel it buzzing through his veins, and he sets down his empty glass and picks up a full one from a passing tray.
“Woah there Pete, you might want to slow down a little bit.” He hears someone chuckle, and he spins around to find Andy standing there, looking very different in his tuxedo and without some stupid Crossfit t-shirt.
“Shut up Hurley. You can be sober for the both of us.” Pete grumbles, but he takes just another sip from his glass instead of throwing it all down his throat like before.
“I really don’t understand why you don’t like these parties.” Andy said, declining a waiter’s offer of some small fruit tart with a wave of his hand. “There’s tons of hot ladies here, I even saw a little bit of side boob action over there.” Andy gestured vaguely in the direction of the table lined with small delicacies and bowls of punch. “I know how you love that side boob.”
“Come on Hurley, don’t tell me you like these parties.” Pete groaned. “You have to dress up all fancy, and there’s boring people asking you boring questions, and you’d think that for being a record label they’d be able to play some good music but no, the DJ always sucks. There’s only one good thing about these parties and it’s the alco—“ he stopped off mid-sentence as his eyes landed on the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. “Oh good Lord.” He breathed out.
Andy followed his gaze and huffed out a laugh as he noticed who Pete was looking at.
“See Wentz, there’s at least two good things about this party.” He said, gently taking the champagne glass from Pete’s hand, and giving him a small shove. “Now go talk to him!”
Pete stumbled forward slightly at Andy’s shove, then turned to glare at his friend.
“Dude, he’s working. I don’t want to interrupt him or whatever.” He mumbled, reaching for his glass again. Andy held it away from him.
“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some friendly conversation. Besides, you’re the top executive of the company holding this party, it’s not like he can get into too much trouble if you…distract him. But please, for the love of god, if you’re going to have sex with him, making sure you find a room with a door that locks.”
And with that Andy strode away, leaving Pete alone and drinkless. Pete groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. He hated these parties, he really did.
He turned around, in search of more champagne, and bumped into a waiter holding a tray full of the exact beverage Pete was looking for. Unfortunately said beverage was no longer in the glasses, but all over Pete, the floor, and the flustered looking waiter.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“ And Pete stopped again. It was the same gorgeous creature he had been eyeing a few moments ago, and he felt a blush rise into his cheeks.
“S’alright.” The waiter, who couldn’t have been older than 19 or 20, mumbled, bending down to pickup the largest pieces of broken glass and placing them on the tray he still held in his hand. “Sorry for getting it all over your suit.” He straightened up again, his pale skin flushed with embarrassment.
Pete laughed slightly, eyeing the shorter man. “I think that I should be the one apologizing for getting it all over you.” He said. “Here, we’ll get someone else to clean this up,” he waved at the puddle on the ground, “and we’ll go work on cleaning ourselves up.”
The waiter looked like he was about to protest, but then must have decided against it.
“Just let me go put this tray back and tell Brendon to come clean up.” He said. Pete watched as he gave the tray to one of his coworkers, a dark-haired bright eyed man, and gestured to the mess on the floor. His coworker rolled his eyes, but left obediently to go find something to clean it up with.
The waiter returned to Pete’s side. “Uh, there’s a men’s bathroom on the fourth floor that’s always empty, if you want to head up there.” He said. Pete nodded.
“Sounds good to me.” He replied, and followed the younger man out of the ballroom. “How do you know your way around so well?” He asked as they pushed through a service door and into an empty hallway.
“We cater here a lot. It’s a popular place for weddings and parties, because the venue is so big and fancy, and we’re also popular at said weddings and parties, though I’m not sure why.” He shrugged his shoulders and pushed the “up” button the elevator that they were now standing in front of. Pete huffed out a small laugh.
“It’s only a few floors dude, we couldn’t take the stairs?” He asked. The waiter shrugged his shoulders again.
“In case of stairway, use elevator. That’s always been my life motto.” He grinned up at Pete and the impossible happened: the blond waiter got even cuter. Pete felt slightly faint, and he grinned back. The elevator dinged, letting them know that it was there, and the doors slid open. The waiter motioned for Pete to go in first, which he did.
Moments later they were standing in front of big mirrors in the fanciest public restroom Pete had ever seen, blotting hopelessly at their clothes with wads of paper towels.
“I’m so sorry, again.” The waiter said, glancing over at Pete’s alcohol soaked shirt. Pete shook his head.
“Dude, that was totally my fault, stop apologizing.” Pete said, laughing slightly.
“Sorry.” The waiter mumbled. Pete shot him another look, and the blond blushed.
“Ah, I feel like I should know the name of the attractive guy who’s uniform I probably just ruined.” Pete said. The blond turned even more bright red.
“Did you just call me--?” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, it’s Patrick.” He said. “How about you?”
“Pete.” He said simply.
“Pete…Wentz?” Patrick said hesitantly. Pete nodded. “Aren’t you like…the head honcho of this whole operation?” Pete nodded again, more reluctantly. Patrick groaned.
“I am so gonna get fired.” He placed his face in his hands. “I can’t believe I spilled champagne all over the boss. I’m such a klutz.” He moaned again and leaned heavily against the wall of the bathroom. “I’m so dead. I’m gonna die.” His voice rose with hysteria. “My boss is gonna kill me! I’m gonna die!”
“Hey hey hey,” he stepped in front of the smaller man, “you’re going to be fine. It’s not your fault, first of all, and second of all, I’m not even going to say anything about it. You’re not going to lose your job, you’ll be fine.” He took Patrick’s hands in his own. Patrick refused to look him in the eye.
“I’m gonna die.” He said, miserably and adamantly. “Thanks for your efforts but I’m gonna die and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He took his hands out of Pete’s and shoved them into his pants pockets. He coughed uncomfortably, and Pete realized that they were standing way closer than could be considered appropriate. They were close enough that if Pete wanted to he could…
He grabbed Patrick by the waist and pulled him even closer and pressed his mouth against Patrick’s soft pink lips. It was awkward for a moment, as Patrick’s hand were still in his pockets, but to Pete’s delight they didn’t stay there for long. Patrick stood on his tiptoes slightly and tangled his hands in Pete’s dark hair, pulling him in closer and sucking Pete’s lower lip into his mouth.
Pete was surprised by Patrick’s enthusiasm, but he wasn’t complaining. He pushed Patrick against the wall, holding him there, and pushed his knee in-between the other man’s legs. Patrick moaned and gripped his hair tighter, causing Pete to moan in response.
Suddenly the bathroom door banged open. Pete and Patrick sprung apart like teenagers that had been caught, both reaching to smooth out their hair and their clothes.
“Fucking hell.” Andy groaned. “I came up here because for some reason the men’s bathroom downstairs was full and what did I say about locked doors Wentz?” He sounded completely exasperated.
“Sorry Hurley.” Pete mumbled, desperately trying to flatten his hair from Patrick’s hands. Andy just rolled his eyes and exited the bathroom, still grumbling under his breath. Pete glanced over at Patrick and they both burst into a fit of laughter. Never in his life had Pete felt more like a horny, impulsively acting teenager, not even in high school. It was kind of nice, he decided.
“We should probably get back down there. If I’m gone for too long I really will get fired.” Patrick huffed. “I think trying to clean our suits out tonight is a lost cause, we’ll just have to endure the rest of the party smelling like drunkards. I hope you don’t have to give a speech or anything tonight.”
Pete shook his head.
“Nope, no speech, thank heavens. I hate talking in front of people.” Pete pushed the door of the bathroom open and held it as Patrick walked out.
“Yeah, I know that feeling.” Patrick said, leading them back down the hallway to the elevator again. “I hate being up in front of people too. Unless I’m playing my music, that is.”
“Hey, what do you play? Are you in a band or something? Because now might be a good time to remind you that you just made out with the top executive of a record label…” Pete winked at him, and Patrick looked up at him, his cheeks turning red for not the first, and probably not the last time that night.
“Holy smokes you’re right.” He looked adorably flustered. “And, uh, no. It’s just some solo stuff I’m working on right now. I, uh, would you mind checking out a demo?” He looked up at Pete hopefully. Pete nodded, he was curious to see what other amazing things this kid could do with his mouth.
“Sure thing!” He fished his wallet out of his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Just email something to me and I’ll give it a listen.”
Patrick took the card from his hand, biting his lower lip excitedly. Pete groaned internally, his eyes fixed on Patrick’s impossibly pink lips and wishing he was feeling them against his own again, and not just staring at them.
“Wow thank you so much I can’t believe this is actually happening.” He rambled, shoving the card into his pocket. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
“Oh no, is this like the gateway to prostitution?” Patrick muttered, mostly to himself but loud enough for Pete to hear. “I mean, I’m trading sexual acts for favors. This is low key prostitution, isn’t it?” He pushed the button for the ground floor and grinned up at Pete and Pete laughed.
“Just don’t make a habit of it and I think you’ll be fine.” He said.
“I don’t know, I think I could make kissing you in bathrooms instead of doing my job a habit.” Patrick replied. “Or really kissing you anywhere instead of doing anything.”
Pete felt his body heat up. He hadn’t pegged this kid as the flirtatious type, and yet…
“How about kissing me in an elevator instead of talking?” He asked, voice embarrassingly husky with arousal.
“Yeah, I could manage that.” And with that Patrick grabbed the front of Pete’s jacket and pulled their mouths together again. It was just as good the second time around, and Pete understood exactly what Patrick meant when he said he could make this a habit. Pete could get downright addicted to this sort of thing.
Unfortunately they only had to travel four floors, and the elevator stopped much sooner than either of them would have liked. Give Pete an additional four floors and he probably would have had Patrick’s clothes on the floor he was so aroused right now. They broke apart, both breathing heavily, as the elevator doors slid open again, thankfully to an empty hallway.
Patrick straightened his bowtie and used his thumb to wipe Pete’s saliva off his lower lip.
“That was fun, let’s do it again sometime.” He smiled at the darker haired man cheekily.
“Or maybe get some coffee together?” Pete suggested. Patrick nodded.
“Preferably both, in no particular order.”
“My personal number should be written on the back of that business card I gave you.” Pete said, feeling his heart flutter in his chest happily.
“Great.” They both stood there for a second, both smiling a little bit, neither wanting to be the first to leave.
“I gotta get back to work, Brendon is probably annoyed as fuck with me, but I’ll call you.” Patrick winked one more time, and then turned and walked briskly back down the hallway.
Pete stood in the hallway, still feeling a pleasant warmth all over his body.
Maybe he could get used to these parties after all.