Lullabye

A mellowed out Pete. This was a first for Patrick, but he wasn't complaining.
Patrick sat on the bed in his cluttered apartment, fiddling with his guitar again, and nodding along to no particular rhythm. Pete lay sideways in the swivel chair a few feet away, and at the moment, looked half asleep.

But of course, no such luck for Patrick. Pete had other crazy ideas, but he had just contained himself for the past hour for Patrick's sake.

"Patrick…" Pete whined, turning his head to look at Patrick. "What cha' doin?"
Patrick groaned in frustration, knowing this would not stop if Patrick didn't come up with a creative answer.

"I'm trying to write something for Folie à Deux," Patrick said lamely, plucking a few random notes. Pete raised a curious eyebrow at him.

"Are you crazy? All the tracks are done, and the final product is gonna be put on the CD in a week," But after seeing the look in Patrick's eyes - the look that sparked in his smoky gray eyes any time he came up with an idea- Pete became more awake than ever.

"Maybe we could do something extra…" Patrick led on his fib, continuing to strum, not even aware that he had cords going together.

"Like a hidden track?" Pete said, almost disappointed. Almost every band had a 'hidden' track on one album or another, and they weren't that thrilling.

"No, something more secretive," Patrick murmured, feeling the rhythm he had been strumming rocking him into a haze. "You think of something."

"But… we would need a whole new son-" Pete started, but faded into silence. Pete stared intensely at Patrick, who was now letting his fingers fly and his wrist strum, eyes closed.

After a few seconds, Patrick started to hum, and Pete's brain stopped functioning. Pete had heard some pretty noises from Patrick before, but this humming…it was like nothing before. With the soft sound on the un-amped guitar mixing  perfectly with Patrick's tune, Pete became entranced.

Shapes formed in his head, becoming letters, and those letters turning into words, until he had words the fit the tune.

But his words fell flat at the last strum of the guitar.
"Why did you stop?" Pete nearly shouted. Patrick looked over at him, baffled. Patrick had completely missed Pete's experience and had no idea how much Pete enjoyed Patrick's humming.

"Cause…" he said, placing the guitar beside the bed. Pete jumped from his chair, stormed over to Patrick, and poked a finger in his chest.

"What was that tune? When did you write that?" Pete asked, poking Patrick over and over. Patrick gave a shrug, and turned over on his side.
Without warning, Pete landed onto of Patrick; Patrick flailed about until Pete pinned his arms down. Pete stuck out his lower lip, pouting.

"Please tell me…"
Patrick blushed, and with all his strength, pushed Pete off himself. Patrick turned over to lie on his back, Pete rolling next to him.

"I…I really don't know. It's just something I made up," He mumbled, looked away. Pete latched onto Patrick's closest arm, grabbing it with enough strength to bruise it.

"Can you remember it?" Pete asked continuing clutching Patrick's arm like it was his life preserver in the middle of the ocean. Patrick didn't answer, and for a few minutes he laid there, eyes closed, with Pete watching him close at hand.
Finally, Patrick began to get a beat going. The very light tap, tap, tap, of his fingers drumming on his jeans continued on for another minute. Pete's grip loosened, and he slid up in the bed to rest his head on Patrick's shoulder.

Patrick picked up humming with the beat, very quietly at first. Then he seemed to lose himself as the humming became louder, almost more sure of its self; Pete mindlessly twirled a lock of Patrick's hair at the nape of his neck.
As his song started to slow, Patrick's humming turned into words. No lyrics, but meaningful la, la, la dee-da's .

Pete could feel the warm, comforting blanket of sleep fall over him. He placed his head on the place where Patrick's arm meet his chest, and drifted off.
In his unconscious state, the words came to him again, and he muttered the last ones before finally falling asleep,

"Honey is for bees you silly bear…"