Summary: Pat’s mad at you. But he also wants his cuddles. What occurs when his need overcomes his anger is too cute and it leads to the both of you melting into the mattress together. (SFW)
Something my darling @loveletterstoledger said to me today sparked this little ficlet. This idea was entirely her own and I wanted to write something about it so please send her some love directly if you enjoy this; she deserves it!💜💗🌸💙 (I hope you enjoy this, my love!!!! I haven’t written for Pat for a while so I might be a bit rusty!)💛🥰💕
TW; (minor) argument between Y/N and Pat, miscommunication (this is the basis of the argument), tension (momentary). If I’ve missed anything then please let me know!
Word count: 1, 038.
“Pat, would you just listen to m - “ Your voice rises slightly with frustration and with some kind of urgency for Pat to do as you ask him to, which is simply to listen because he’s labouring under a misunderstanding and you want to correct it, but his dark brown eyes seem to look through you.
Pat’s beyond the point of listening to you and so angry is he that he’s unable to be his best self for you as he scoffs and leaves the room, his dark curls flying about his face like the strands are electrical currents, so palpable are his emotions in this moment. He storms from the room and his steel toe caps thunder through the house until finally does your bedroom door slam shut so hard that the walls in the living room, where you stand, shake.
You sigh in defeat, a thick lump of unshed tears in your throat and a prickly heat behind your eyes and nostrils spreads. You wrinkle your nose - you won’t cry. You’re not going to follow him, so knowing are you that when Pat removes himself from a situation, it’s because he’s keeping venom from leaving his tongue; what’s said is said. Even in the worst of moods, Pat wouldn’t want to do you unnecessary harm, and so he silences himself before there’s even a risk of that happening.
You grab your phone as you sit on the sofa and give yourself a small break from the monotony of your daily routine. If you know Pat as well as you’re sure that you do, then he’ll be back within twenty minutes. With a small smile and a lot of anxiety, you force yourself to focus on mindlessly scrolling your socials (the irony doesn’t escape you).
Just as you get into the rhythm of scrolling without thought and refreshing your feeds every few seconds, cycling are you through the apps on your phone, Pat comes storming into the room and grabs your hand, pulling you up to standing. He seems to be a live wire, his skin almost crawling with energy. His dark curls fly around him as his hand tightly grips yours and without looking back does he walk with you to the bedroom.
Pat ignores all of your questions and all of your protests; half way to the room do you cease this and simply allow Pat to do as he will; so stubborn is he that he will always get his way. Truthfully would you allow nothing less than this, for there is nothing he could ask which you could ever refuse and the same is equally true in the reverse. You live for each other.
Finally do the both of you reach the bedroom and Pat uses his spare hand to slam the door shut behind you; you are barely in the room for there is a strong gust of wind against your head and you step closer into Pat, not wanting to get your clothes stuck in the door.
“Pat, what - “ One last attempt to see what Pat was after, but before you could finish your sentence, he grunted and threw himself down on the bed, the look in his eyes making his needs obvious.
You tried to not laugh but you couldn’t help it. “Ohhh ~ ,” You exhaled and made a sound of knowing at the same time. “You want your angry cuddles.” You bit down on your lip to prevent from laughing too much but you had always found it funny when Pat got angry. He just stomped around, made some noise and then demanded for cuddles like he was a belligerent cat. He didn’t like being angry and so he usually calmed down pretty quickly. You came forward and Pat lunged forward and wrapped his arms around you, tugging you down with him onto the bed.
Pat grunts angrily and crushes you to his chest, his breaths deep and long as he forces himself to calm down, as he gets himself reacquainted with what it means to hold you in his arms and to be safe in what the both of you share. He presses a tender yet somehow aggressive kiss to your forehead and rests his chin, the angles of which are sharp, against the crown of your head, and takes another deep breath before he makes another angry noise and rolls so that you’re pressed against the mattress and Pat is hovered over you.
You let him tug you this way and that, used are you to Pat’s angry cuddles. As far as healthy ways of dealing with anger goes, Pat has one of the healthier methods you’ve ever seen. He always lets himself vent his emotions and always will he apologise for negative ones as and when he expresses them to you, even and especially when they’re not actually directed at you. Normally are the both of you efficient at communicating with one another but for some reason today did you just bump heads and so was nothing solved.
He leans forward and presses his forehead against yours, the fire in his eyes slowly beginning to simmer into a gentle flame. For some reason is there a tugging in your gut and and you begin to speak, your voice just above a whisper as you tell Pat what you had been trying to say before the tension had deafened Pat’s ears to your words only moments ago. He listens to you, inclining his head as he presses kisses to your cheeks, lips, the pulse point on your neck. He hums and makes noises of sympathy and of compassion, so large is his heart, and you know that all is well between you again when his hands slide up, up your body and grip your face. His fingers splay behind your ears and he kisses you so soundly that you quite forget what you were just about to say, and perhaps that had been Pat’s plan all along.
He lives in the moment and dwells not on the past, for it is gone and all he has is right now with you. You’re everything to him, just as he is everything to you.
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