Time marches on, as it is wont to do, and things quickly settle down after the drama on and around Valentine’s Day. With the tension between Ryan and Brendon now converted into an almost sickeningly sweet relationship, the atmosphere in Little Things is back to its usual chocolate-scented harmony. The days slide into weeks, and then months, bringing warm weather and a rush of students needing a chocolate fix during their finals.

Even though he’s been through this once already, Patrick still isn’t fully prepared – mentally, that is; he’s got enough stock this time around to feed most of the Northwest – for the sheer volume of exhausted or over-alert students he gets coming into the shop on a daily basis. Luckily for Patrick, Ryan isn’t one of them; being a first-year, his finals aren’t quite as stressful as those taking their last set before (hopefully) graduation, and without him, Patrick would probably be swamped.

As it is, Ryan manages to make it in for most of his shifts, and proceeds to be an island of calm in the shop while managing to both make Patrick want to be sick with how sweet he and Brendon are (it rivals fluffy kittens and puppies with added sparkles), but at the same time want to hug him time and time again for finally getting over his slight sexuality freak-out. Caught between the two, Patrick finds himself spending a lot of time smiling at the skinny student, although that could simply be because he can’t stop smiling himself at the moment.

The reason for this, one Pete Wentz, also makes Patrick veer between two extreme emotions. On the one hand he can be so utterly mischievous and annoying that Patrick has to rein in the urge to throw some form of kitchen utensil at him, and then moments later he makes Patrick feel like he’s the only one in the world who matters. There’s a third emotion, but if Patrick even considers that one he gets distracted and messes up whatever decorations he’s working on at the time. 

Pete is very good in bed, and that’s all Patrick will let himself think right now.

With the end of the semester fast approaching, it’s time for yet another concert, which Brendon announces with all the ceremony and flourish they’re slowly getting used to him affecting. Gone is the good Mormon boy they met back in Fall, something that Pete attributes to Ryan’s corruptive influence and Patrick’s sinfully good chocolate. No one, he whispers in Patrick’s ear, could eat his chocolate and not want to be bad at least sometimes.

Pete subsides to his stool with a grin after Patrick gives him a sideways look through his lashes; to all appearances Patrick doesn’t look away from the cake he’s currently decorating, but Pete definitely gets the message in Patrick’s eyes. What could potentially become an awkward moment for Ryan is defused by Brendon, who swings into the shop with a jaunty wave and a mouthful of song.

“I take it you got the part?” Patrick’s question goes unanswered, at least verbally. Brendon keeps belting out his song as he thrusts a sheaf of papers onto one of the low tables and grabs Ryan, whirling him around in an almost recognizable version of a waltz. Almost recognizable. Brendon’s newly discovered liking for all things theatrical means there are far too many twirls and dips for a traditional dance, although Ryan certainly isn’t complaining.

This could, however, be due to the speed at which he’s being twirled and dipped.

Pete rescues the papers before they get covered in chocolate frosting and moves them out of the way, stealing a scoop of cream and a kiss from Patrick before he leans on the back counter to scan them. Brendon had been a mass of nerves for three weeks, ever since the auditions for the play had been held, and now that he’s got the part, that nervousness and anxiety has been transformed into energy and good humor.

“I’m the lead,” says Brendon breathlessly, now standing with his arms wrapped around Ryan’s waist from behind and looking distinctly smug, “and I’m singing all my own songs, no dubs.”

“We guessed that from your entrance,” remarks Patrick dryly, wiping his fingers on a cloth. He steps back to lean against Pete’s side and read over his shoulder, giving Ryan a mostly-private moment to turn his head and kiss Brendon softly. After almost four months together, a lot of Ryan’s original reticence about dating a guy has faded, but whenever possible, Patrick tries to give them some room.

Pete slips an arm around Patrick’s waist as they peruse the script and song sheets, the natural ease born of a solid friendship not altered in the slightest by the mind-blowing and sometimes-minor-blackout-inducing sex they’re now enjoying. They also read at the same speed, which means a particular section catches their eyes at the same time. Patrick raises an eyebrow. “Uh, Brendon, it says -”

“Yeah! Cool, isn’t it!” His exuberance makes Patrick raise the other eyebrow, casting an incredulous look at Pete. Ryan eyes them both, then extricates himself from Brendon’s hold and moves round to the back of the counter to see. “What is it, what’s he got to do?” in response, Patrick shakes his head smilingly and gestures in Brendon’s direction. Ryan turns and Brendon grins, rolls his eyes, then pulls out his ipod.

It’s a sight that very few chocolate shops have ever witnessed, at least by Patrick’s way of thinking. How many other shops will have had a first-year student standing in amongst shelves of strawberry creams, champagne truffles and lemon sorbets, moving his hips in time with I Got Rhythm and then doing one of the most well-known and most maligned dance moves of all time.

Jazz hands.

In all honesty, and complete seriousness, Brendon performs his little dance, complete with many appearances of the jazz hands, and then takes a bow. Patrick stares, only keeping a straight face by virtue of his tight grip on the edge of the counter. That is, until he sees Ryan’s face. It’s mostly happiness that Brendon got the part, but with a good dose of ‘what the hell is my boyfriend doing, dear god?’ thrown in. After seeing that Patrick can’t help his laughter, but within mere moments he’s wearing the expression as well.

“Hey, dude, can you show me how to do that?” Ryan and Patrick stare together in shocked (Patrick less so, he knows how bad Pete can get) amazement as Pete slides out and joins Brendon on the shop floor. Unsurprisingly Pete picks up the slinky movement of the hips very quickly, his eyes fixed on Patrick as he and Brendon move in unison, and then Brendon starts the music again.

This time neither Patrick nor Ryan get anywhere close to keeping a straight face. They’re doubled over with laughter in seconds, the images of their boyfriends doing snake-hips and jazz hands slightly out-of-synch one which will go down in their histories as one of the funniest and most ridiculous ever. And considering who they’re dating, that’s saying something.

“What. The. Fuck.” Pete and Brendon spin round, still doing jazz hands, to be immortalized with surprised expression in Jon Walker’s camera. Spencer lets go of the clapper in the shop’s antique bell and comes down off his tip-toes, edging around Pete and Brendon to stand by the counter.

Ryan snickers and gives him a one armed hug over the worksurface, nodding a hello to Jon. “Nice to see you putting that growth spurt to good use.” A round of good-natured teasing follows, with Jon threatening to pin the photographs up across the entire campus if he doesn’t get a hot chocolate now, to which Patrick simply shrugs and points out that Pete did something much more embarrassing than that on their one-month anniversary.

Let’s just say the O.C is now banned, and leave it at that.

When Brendon starts rehearsals a week later, Ryan begins to turn up to his shifts at the shop with copies of the script, the songs, and what seem to be sketches of costumes. Any attempt by Patrick to see what they are exactly is foiled by Ryan’s nimble fingers and admonishing looks, so scarily like Patrick’s mother’s that he holds up his hands in surrender and stops trying.

Pete, on the other hand, is unfazed by Ryan’s Looks. He manages not only to see the designs, drawn up by the play’s wardrobe mistress Greta, but also persuades Ryan to tell them why he’s got them. As it turns out, Ryan’s a dab hand with a needle, and being connected with one of the actors means he got roped into helping out. For all his bitching about sewing calluses and pin-pricks, Spencer knowingly informs Patrick that Ryan’s loving it.

“He gets to make the costumes just how he wants them, while watching Brendon moving his hips and shaking his ass for hours on end at rehearsals,” Spencer mumbles through a mouthful of chocolate. “If he could somehow manage to read at the same time, he’d be in heaven.”

Spencer, Patrick knows, is about to enter his own version of heaven. Jon, being older than Spencer, is now finished with university and graduating in a few weeks. Contrary to the worries of certain friends, they aren’t breaking up, or even taking a break. Jon’s landed himself a job at one of Chicago’s best photography firms, for whom he’s done some freelance work while still a student, and with the money they’ve given him for signing a two-year contract, he’s bought a condo. 

Spencer’s is currently in the process of moving into, as well as decorating what they blushingly call ‘their place’. . While Jon doesn’t mind cleaning, can cook very well indeed (Spencer often glares at the chocolate on display when he’s in the shop and blames Jon for feeding him so well that he doesn’t want any), and is fairly organized, he doesn’t really have any clue about interior design. Not that it matters, really, but Spencer…Spencer likes pretty things, says Ryan with a flippy hand gesture, and he likes things to match.

Jon is frequently to be found at Little Things, idly swinging his legs on Pete’s stool and stealing cast off pieces of cake or cookie decorations while he half-heartedly whines about whatever it is that Spencer’s currently doing to their apartment which has meant he’s had to escape. This week it’s painting their living room, an undertaking which means that not only Jon has been exiled, but his two cats Dylan and Clover are currently exploring Tomrad’s place for a few days.

Patrick eyes the icing he’s just piped onto a tray of strawberry shaped cookies critically, then looks briefly over at Jon before picking up a thin icing pen for definition. “I thought you said last week that it was in dire need of painting?”

Jon sighs and fiddles with a tub of sprinkles. “I did, and it does. It’s just…” he trails off, looking unsure.

“The way he’s doing it?”

Jon nods. “He’s just getting on with it, and –” He breaks off, staring at the tub in his hands. Patrick puts down his icing pen and focuses on Jon, sensing there was something possibly major going on here. “Look, it’s not that I don’t like it, because that’s not it at all. I‘ve just never moved in with someone who hasn’t changed because of it.”

“You’re worried that he’ll change?”