hidethekey (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hidethekey) wrote2009-06-08 11:32 am
hidethekey) wrote2009-06-08 11:32 am
Say 18
Title: Say 18
Rating: R
Pairing: Pete/Patrick, mentions of Ryan/Brendon
POV: Third
Summary: Patrick and Pete both want each other, Pete just hopes that when he asks, Patrick tells him that he’s eighteen.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the boys or the song. I don’t own Racetraitor or really anything else. The song belongs to the Matches, as does the cut title and the boys belong to themselves, at least until Pete signs his life away aka gets married.
Notes: For the purposes of this story, Patrick’s eyes are blue. So there. I also know nothing about Racetraitor. This is obviously fiction, so I made all of it up. The title belongs to The Matches and it’s a really good song, so you should listen. Warnings are jailbait! Patrick and also Joe getting high. I hope you guys like it.
Patrick stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom and thoroughly checked himself out. He had to admit that he looked good. He looked good enough that, were he in an alternate universe with himself, there would definitely be some make outs going on. He grinned widely at his reflection. The argyle sweater was a nice touch but he was glad that he’d opted out of wearing the shorts and knee socks, choosing instead to wear a pair of sort of tight jeans and some all stars. He topped it all off with one of his hats, one of the ones that had a witty line scrawled across the front. He liked those hats best.
Patrick Stump was not generally the type of guy to do what he was planning on doing that night. He was not the type of boy that would shamelessly throw himself at a random guy from a random band... but this was Pete Wentz from Racetraitor! Patrick had seen the looks Pete was giving him at the last show he’d gone to and he’d also seen a few looks at other shows as well. Those looks were enough to set Patrick on fire.
Tonight was the night. Patrick knew it. Tonight, he was going to find Pete after the show and he was going to be the one that Pete brought home. He just had to wait for Joe to pick him up now. It didn’t take long. Joe liked to be at shows early so that he could be so close to the front that the band would sweat on him. Patrick found that to be a little on the gross side, but he thought that maybe if it was Pete’s sweat then that might be okay, especially since he was planning on being covered in Pete’s sweat before the night was through anyway.
When Joe arrived, Patrick hopped into Joe’s little hatchback beater. “Hey dude,” he said.
“Someone’s dressed up tonight,” Joe said with a teasing grin. “What’s the special occasion?”
“Remember the looks Pete was giving me at the last show? Tonight I’m going to go home with him,” Patrick announced proudly.
“Dude, are you sure? Pete’s like a fucking slut. Seriously, he’s a shallow douche bag, you don’t want him,” Joe stated, driving towards the venue.
“Oh but I do want him. I want him so bad that I can be a fucking slut, Joe, you just don’t understand.”
“That would be because I fuck chicks,” Joe replied. “But seriously, be careful with him. He might have syphilis.”
“Fuck you Joe, Pete Wentz does not have syphilis,” Patrick retorted.
“How would you know?”
“Because he’s fucking Pete Wentz! His sheer awesomeness would prevent the contraction and spread of any STD’s to his system.”
“Did you seriously just fucking say that? Better yet, do you fucking believe it?” Joe asked incredulously.
“Of course. Pete’s the God of Hardcore. He’s like, immune to shit like STD’s and the flu and, I dunno, measles or some shit,” Patrick replied. Joe rolled his eyes and pulled into the parking lot. He parked his piece of shit car in one of the closest spots and then they bounced over to be the first ones in line. Doors didn’t open for at least another hour anyway. Patrick sometimes hated the fact that Joe always wanted to be there so early, but tonight, he figured it was worth it. Instead of complaining at all, he stood with his friend and waited for the venue to open.
<(^^<)
Pete Wentz stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom. He thoroughly checked himself out. He had to admit, he looked good. He looked good enough that, were he in an alternate universe, he’d have himself naked and in bed so quickly that his alternate self wouldn’t know what hit him. He grinned widely. He’d chosen a random band shirt and some tight jeans. His hair was a mess but it looked fucking awesome that way. He’d also lined his eyes subtly with eyeliner. At least, he’d tried to be subtle but he’d accidentally stabbed himself in the eye and then kind of scribbled all over his face so then he’d just washed it all off. It hadn’t come all the way off though, so there were subtle lines.
Pete kind of hoped that the cute red head he’d seen at the last few shows would show up again at this one. Most people would say that the boy was just another kid. Pete had to admit that he was pretty normal looking and shit, but there was just something about him, some sparkle that Pete had never see shine so bright. Everyone in the world had some degree of sparkle, though sometimes it was marred by a lack of ambition. This kid’s sparkle was so bright he glowed. If the kid was there tonight, Pete wasn’t going to let him get away a second (or third) time (Pete had sort of been stalking him for a few months worth of shows but somehow always managed to get distracted before he could get to the kid).
Pete sprinted outside at the sound of a horn honking. He hopped into Andy’s car. His friend grinned, “Dude, are you wearing eyeliner?,” Andy asked with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, I know you’re all about embracing your sexuality and everything but make up? Pete, come on.”
Pete ignored his friend and said instead, “Remember that kid from last week, the cute little red head? I have a feeling he’ll be there tonight. If he is, I’m taking him home with me.”
“Dude, are you sure? Kid doesn’t look much like a slut, I don’t know if he’d go for you. Maybe he’s straight.”
“Dude, don’t dude me. Besides, he’s so not straight and he’s got it for me bad.” Pete remembered the special smiles the kid was giving him every time their eyes met. “Besides, even if he is straight, I can turn him. He wouldn’t be the first.”
“What if he’s not eighteen? You already got fucked with that one kid who lied to you. Cops said if you did it again, they’d do something about it. You were lucky to get off with a warning last time. We don’t need our bass player going to jail because he couldn’t fucking keep it in his pants.” Pete knew that Andy was right, that thing with the last kid really was a bad scene but this new kid… He had to be eighteen, right?
“Then we’ll just have to hope he says he’s eighteen,” Pete replied brightly.
“I’ve got my fingers crossed,” Andy said grimly.
<(^^)>
Patrick and Joe were right up from, which was exactly where they both wanted to be for two entirely different reasons. Patrick staked their spot even between sets when Joe went out with a few of their friends to get stoned. Typical of the Chicago scene, some of the bands were absolutely wretched while others were decent. The only reason Racetraitor was decent was because Pete didn’t actually try to sing. The dude was okay at yelling, which was common for the hardcore scene but singing… not so much. Patrick had heard him try and he still cringed at the memory. The few bands he’d already seen tonight were purely yawn-worthy. Patrick had to force himself to keep the bored expression from his face. Racetraitor was up next though and then Patrick could finally abandon their spot to like, use the washroom and seek Pete out.
Just when Patrick was starting to think that Joe was going to miss the set, Joe rejoined him. It was a mere three seconds before Pete hit the stage. Joe’s eyes were glazed and bloodshot but Patrick had expected that. He smiled and turned back to the stage and waited for the band. They hit the stage like a storm; all thunder and magnificence. Patrick started jumping and grinning right away. He pumped his fist in time with the beat and basically made a complete spectacle of himself. He’d seen the boys that Pete had not so discretely snuck off with to the bathrooms, alleys, or even just random corners, and they were always the brightest boys in the crowd. Patrick was determined to be that boy tonight.
When Pete flashed Patrick his too-big toothy grin and accompanied it with a wink, he knew he’d succeeded. Patrick smiled back and continued to dance up a storm. He didn`t even know if Joe was bedside him anymore but that didn`t matter because every time he looked up, Pete’s eyes met his.
(>^^)>
Pete wasn’t sure what he’d expected to happen when the band hit the stage that night. He knew he’d told Andy that the cute little red head would be there that night but truth be told, he wasn’t actually sure. He hoped that the kid would show, he really did. That kid was just so damn shiny. He was getting the feeling that if he and the kid did hook up (which he was really looking forward to) it would be more than just a one time thing. He’d been watching this red head for the past few months and he thought that there would be a bit more of a connection between him and the kid. At least, he hoped there would be, because really, the kid was fucking gorgeous.
They were three songs into their set when Pete spotted him. When he did, he wasn’t exactly sure how he had missed him in the first place. The kid was going fucking nuts! He was jumping all over the place, spinning, hopping, pumping his fist... he seemed so into it and from the way he was looking at Pete, so into him. This was looking very promising. Pete flashed him a grin and winked. He made sure to keep his eyes on the kid throughout the whole set.
Pete really outdid himself that night. He sang harder, played better and just performed far more spectacularly than he’d ever done before. Maybe this kid really was what he needed. He’d been feeling quite lethargic lately, but this kid was igniting him, making him want more again. There was no way Pete was letting him get away again.
On their last song, Pete leaned forward over the crowd, over the kid and just screamed the lyrics out. He was so high; he was floating, soaring over all the kids in the club except the one in front of him. This kid, he was soaring with Pete. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. Pete didn’t think he could ever feel better than this, but then he heard something. The fucking kid was singing along! He was smiling at Pete, his blue eyes bright and his mouth singing Pete’s song right back to him. Pete hadn’t thought that anyone could even understand what he was saying, let alone be able to sing the words back. He knew one thing at that moment though; Pete never wanted to hear this kid with this heavenly voice sing any songs but his own, ever.
<(^^)>
Patrick really tried not to cringe when Pete leaned close to him and started singing. Patrick liked music a lot. He could play loads of different instruments pretty well. He knew about tone and pitch. Pete was not quite tone deaf, but pretty damn close and his bass playing was mediocre at best. Patrick kind of felt bad for the guy. He could really use some lessons. Lessons on bass were definitely something that Patrick was willing to provide Pete Wentz. The thing was though, the lyrics weren’t bad. Like, the words Pete was singing had meaning and alliteration and metaphors. They were good. If only Pete could find himself a decent vocalist.
Pete seemed pretty insistent on singing to Patrick that night though and Patrick kind of felt his heart flutter because of it. The bassist’s eyes were bright, brighter than Patrick had ever seen them and Pete was so on that night, despite the vocal issues. Pete being so on was making Patrick feel even more brave and comfortable in his own skin. That was saying something because usually Patrick only felt comfortable when he was at home, alone in his bedroom, with a guitar in his hands. Despite what his better judgement would have told him at any other time, Patrick started singing along with Pete.
He’d sort of stalked Racetraitor on the internet and found a shitty website dedicated to the band where all of their lyrics were posted. He was pretty sure that Pete made it too. That was how he knew what Pete was screaming and that was how he was able to sing the words back. Patrick closed his eyes and sang at Pete, mouthing the words perfectly. He felt a sweaty hand in his hair on the last line, moving around to cup his cheek; he looked up to see Pete’s eyes boring into his own. His breath caught in his throat and his voice faltered to a clumsy close. Pete’s chestnut eyes were so intensely like they were looking right through Patrick and into his mind. Pete looked like he was trying to read everything about Patrick in those two seconds before the last word rang out and Pete’s band mates were pulling him form the stage. Patrick’s skin burned where Pete`s hand had touched it.
This was the best fucking night ever.
<(^^<)
Pete wanted to swear and curse and kick his band mates when they pulled him away from the kid. He’d been about to kiss him, like with tongue and everything. He’d wanted to kiss him so bad too but then, then he felt Andy’s grabby hands on his arms, wrenching him away from his boy. That was right, his boy. Pete wasn’t letting him get away, not tonight and not ever again. He had no idea if you could be in love with someone before even knowing his name but he was pretty sure that this feeling inside him wasn’t a side effect of the awesome set they’d just put on or the adrenaline. His heart was giving him that fluttery feeling he got when he’d had too much caffeine or when he was feeling things that were just too big for him and he needed to find an outlet. He needed to find his boy.
Andy pushed him up against the wall in the dressing room.
“Make fucking sure he’s 18 Pete,” he growled. Pete pulled his face away, pressing the back of his head against the wall. He made a face and Andy let Pete go. Pete blinked a few times. What did being eighteen have to do with anything? Wait. That was right... all that trouble he’d gotten into with that kid who’d lied.
“Ok, I’ll make sure,” Pete replied. He knew the truth though, Andy would be lucky if Pete even remembered to ask the kid. If he wasn’t in love, then he was at least enamoured. Pete kind of lost al use of his brain in these situations, he knew he wasn’t going to be thinking properly at all. He paused long enough to change his shirt and splashed his face but then he was off and out into the warehouse. Andy’s words fluttered out of his mind like all the other good advice that the drummer gave him.
The first problem that made its way into Pete’s mind was the fact that he had no idea where his boy was. He didn’t know anything about him really. The only thing Pete did know was that tonight the kid shined brighter than any stage light Pete had ever seen. He figured if he looked for that brightness, he’d definitely find the kid. Turned out though, Pete didn’t have to look too hard, his boy found him pretty easily.
<(^^)>
Patrick saw Pete come out of the backstage area practically right after his set ended. He had a familiar look about him; he was on the prowl. Well Patrick wasn’t going to let him get distracted by someone who wasn’t him. That slut Ryan Ross had beat him to it last week and Patrick wasn’t going to have that happen again. He sauntered up to Pete casually despite how much his hands were shaking. “Hi,” he said. Patrick cringed at how high his voice went at the end. It was like he was asking a question and that little crack, way to be suave...
It didn’t seem to faze Pete though. He practically skipped over to Patrick, complete with the big creepy grin.
“Hey,” Pete replied. His tone was even a little creepy and his grin seemed to grow even wider. Then he frowned like he was remembering something then blurted, “Are you eighteen?”
This seemed to be a very important question to Pete, like, essential for Pete to continue the conversation, so Patrick lied, “yes.” He knew he’d done the right thing when Pete’s eyes brightened and his grin widened if that were at all possible. “I’m Patrick” he introduced.
“Hey there Patrick,” Pete said, moving a little closer. Patrick felt a hand creeping over his hip. “This band is completely lame. Wanna go somewhere?”
Patrick figured that his was a line that Pete must use on thousands of unsuspecting teenagers. He knew that his chest shouldn’t be tightening because Pete had propositioned him like he had so many others. He knew this but he felt himself nodding anyway. He could totally be this kind of boy. Totally.
He felt a shiver run up his arm when Pete took his hand and led him outside where all of the smokers were lighting up. Patrick decided he really didn’t have to use the bathroom that badly anyway and followed the bassist over to an older looking Jeep. It was at that time Patrick noticed how short Pete was. Patrick himself wasn’t tall at all but Pete was only a teeny bit taller than he was. This was a shock to Patrick. If Pete’s awesomeness couldn’t make Pete taller, maybe it couldn’t protect him from STD’s either. Maybe Joe was right, maybe Pete did have syphilis! He’d just make sure they used a condom then….
(>^^)>
Pete unlocked and held the door open for Patrick. He sighed inwardly, what a pathetically normal name for someone so incredibly special. He swung around and hopped into his own side but didn’t bother starting the vehicle yet. “So,” he said. “You know more about me than I do about you. Tell me, where did you learn to sing like that?”
Patrick blinked up at him with a curious look on his face. “What do you mean?” I just sang back to you. I didn’t do anything special.”
“Nothing special?” Pete was incredulous. “You only have the best fucking voice I’ve ever heard. Seriously.” Pete replied. Patrick looked a little uncomfortable, like he wasn’t used to compliments at all. Pete knew he’d have to change the subject fast or else he’d lose this opportunity. He’d mistakenly been under the impression that if he were to get Patrick alone, the words would just flow between them, like he wouldn’t have to struggle to find them or resort to cheap pickup lines. He was groping to find something but then Patrick saved them.
“So are you going to take me home or not?” he asked. With the look the kid was giving him, Pete would have quite joyfully taken him on the front sear of the jeep. He figured though, with a connection like this, Patrick at least deserved a bed. He fired up the engine in reply.
“So do you do this often?” Pete asked
“What? Go home with random scene guys that are in bands?” Pete, instead of watching the road, watched the crease between Patrick’s eyebrows. “Oh yeah, it’s like a competition between Ryan Ross and I, to see which one of us can get with the most band dudes.”
Pete knew this wasn’t true at all. Ryan had a serious boyfriend named Brendon. The times when Ryan would come to Pete were when he and Brendon were fighting or when Ran needed someone to discuss lyrics with. Besides, Ryan was fucking fifteen; even Pete wouldn’t go that far. He didn’t say anything though. He’d just see how far this kid would take it.
“Oh,” Pete replied. He smiled, “well now you can add me to the list too.”
“Uh, yeah. I mean… yeah.” Patrick said with a hint of awkwardness. It was at that point that Pete realised that Patrick was likely a virgin....
<(^^)>
Pete’s room was not at all what Patrick had expected it to be. For one thing, Pete sill lived with his parents. For another, he had two twin beds that were pushed together to make a bigger one. Patrick was kind of scared that he’d fall through the crack. And lastly, Pete called it his ‘love cave’. Patrick couldn’t get over how cheesy the ‘King of Hardcore’ really was. Patrick sat down on the bed gingerly and looked up at Pete. “Hi,” he said.
He watched Pete smile. He really liked Pete’s smile, he found. “Hi,” Pete replied. He came over and sat down close to Patrick. “So how did you like the show?” he asked.
Patrick lit right up. Music was something he knew, something he could totally talk about. “Dude,” he said “you were on tonight. Like, I’ve never seen you perform so well. I’ve never seen you play so hard or scream so loud. It was... It was fucking amazing. I kind of wanted that show to last forever because it was seriously the best I’ve ever been to,” Patrick stated. He turned during his monologue to face Pete and then frowned. “But dude, you kind of shitty on bass and well, you can’t really sing either.”
Pete shot him a crooked grin. “So I’ve been told,” he said.
“I can play bass pretty good...” Patrick continued. He blurted out the rest before he lost his never because this was fucking Pete Wentz and they were in his room sitting on his fucking bed and... Why wasn’t there more kissing going on? Oh, right, Patrick needed to get back on subject, “I could teach you.”
Pete seemed to be a sufferer of attention deficit disorder because he didn’t even bother answering Patrick. He just leaned forward and basically attacked Patrick’s mouth. Patrick gasped and pulled back but Pete’s mouth followed him and suddenly Patrick was on his back on the bed with the bassist on top of him. He moved to push Pete away again but stopped. Wasn’t this what he’d wanted?
It was, but not quite. He wanted to realize the connection he felt with Pete. He wanted to know if Pete felt it too. Patrick wanted to bond with Pete, to stay up all night with him on the phone. He wanted to talk about music, books, food, movies or anything really. Pete didn’t seem like that kind of guy though and Patrick was willing to take whatever he could get.... He pulled Pete closer and kissed him back.
<(^^<)
Pete was about to pull off of Patrick because the kid was just lying there and letting him do stuff to him. He wasn’t responding at all and it was making Pete a little uncomfortable. This was supposed to be a mutual thing. He’d thought that this was what Patrick wanted.... He was starting; just starting to pull away to ask what was going on when Patrick pulled him forward again pressed their mouths together, kissing Pete almost desperately.
This was better. This was much much better. Patrick’s mouth was hot and passionate. His tongue darted out almost shyly but at the same time determinedly. Patrick wanted this, Pete could tell. Pete just hoped that Patrick wanted more than just the physical. Pete pulled their mouths apart and started kissing down Patrick’s neck, nipping softly and delighting in the gasps that came out of Patrick. The kid’s hands were on Pete’s shoulders, gripping at his shirt and pulling him even closer. Pete was hard already but even he realised that he was a horny little bastard. He hoped that maybe they could do this more than once tonight. More than once would make him a very happy man. Even if Patrick was a virgin, he seemed to want this and really, who was Pete to deny him?
He slipped his hands under Patrick’s shirt, tickling them over the kid’s skin. Patrick squirmed and Pete grinned. He brought their mouths back together and kissed Patrick roughly as he pulled the t-shirt up. Despite the fact that Pete could likely ask any of his one-night stands to do anything for him, Pete preferred to pleasure his partner before taking his own; he liked seeing the looks of ecstasy on their faces. Listening to soft cries and gasps and feeling hips shifting underneath his own got him off so much better than just demanding a blowjob then sending the groupie on his way. He liked to watch his boys come and know it was because he was making them feel good.
Patrick’s shirt was on the floor now and Pete felt grabby hands on the hem of his own. For being a presumptive virgin, Patrick seemed pretty insistent on getting Pete’s clothes off. This just spurred Pete on more. He let Patrick rid him of the offending garment but then leaned down to kiss over Patrick’s chest. “You’re fucking beautiful,” Pete said. His voice was harsh, like he hadn’t talked in years. The scratchiness of it drifted out into the silence and just seemed to hang there, like smoke in an airtight room.
Patrick paused and blinked up at him. “You really think so?” he asked.
Pete nodded and cleared his throat. “Just... fuck. Look at yourself. Your skin is perfect all speckled with freckles on your shoulders and like, creamy. Beautiful. Your eyes are so fucking blue that not even the sky can compare on its best days. Patrick you have to believe me.”
“No.” Patrick replied, shaking his head. “You’re beautiful Pete,” he said finally. He didn’t go into any more detail though, he just leaned forward and pressed their mouths back together in a kiss so hot Pete was surprised they didn’t catch fire.
<(^^)>
Patrick could not believe that Pete fucking Wentz believed he was beautiful. He absolutely couldn’t. Patrick just, yeah, he was cute, sometimes, maybe funny. He’d looked pretty good earlier but Patrick had never ever thought to consider himself beautiful. Ryan Ross, now he was beautiful. Bill Beckett? He was too. Patrick? Not so much. He listened to Pete, watched his mouth as the words formed and left his lips. He listened as they floated into the silence and hung between them.
When Pete seemed like he was done Patrick peered at him ponderously. “No,” he said, “you’re the on that’s beautiful Pete.” With that statement, he pulled Pete against him again and kissed him harder than he’d ever kissed anyone before. He felt Pete’s hands on his hips and then he felt them move between the two of them and dart towards his zipper. Patrick made a noise that was something between a gasp and a groan and realized that maybe his body had a mind of its own, because his hips jerked up almost violently to meet Pete’s fingers. That happened completely against Patrick’s will. It wasn’t fair. He was starting to get a little bit nervous though, because truth be told, Patrick wasn’t really this kind of boy at all. He wasn’t the type of guy who went home with a practical stranger and tried to get off with him. Patrick was really started to get nervous now.
Thankfully Pete’s hands stopped trying to get Patrick’s clothes off and went back to basically feeling him up instead. Patrick was okay with that though. Pete had already done this. Patrick had let other people do this. It wasn’t something completely new to him. Pete’s hands were all over his chest and they were followed quickly by his lips and teeth. Patrick was letting out involuntary gasps and arching against Pete’s hard body.
The thing that made Patrick fall apart though, was Pete’s hands slipping beneath the waistband of his underwear and not in a good way. “Pete, Pete,” he managed to gasp.
“Mmm yeah baby. You like that?” he asked.
“No. Stop, please,” and all of a sudden Pete’s weight was gone and Patrick found his breath returning.
(>^^)>
When Pete heard the “no” word, he pulled right off, like all the way off the bed. Despite some of his more dubious actions in the past, he wasn’t one to force himself onto someone who was having second thoughts, especially not someone like Patrick. He shifted from foot to foot, looking at Patrick nervously. The kid was trying to get his breath back and when he finally succeeded, he sat up and looked at Pete.
“I um,... I’m not...” Patrick brought his hands up and covered his face in what Pete thought was shame. “I’m not this boy Pete. I... I thought I could be, but I can’t.” Pete watched him get on the bed and then throw his legs over the edge and god, those thighs! How could Pete not have noticed them before? They were perfect, absolutely- wait. Was Patrick getting dressed? “I should just go...” he said, pulling his shirt over his head.
Pete caught the hem then reached and took possession of Patrick’s wrist. “Please,” he said, “please don’t go.”
“Don’t make this more awkward than it already is,” Patrick snapped. “Seriously, I’m sorry you get to miss out on your fun but I’m sure that if you went back to the show you’d find about a million other kids that can do for you what I obviously can’t.” Pete thought it was a good thing that the kid had a backbone; that meant that Patrick would challenge him, say no to him. Pete liked a challenge. He was just a little disappointed that it was showing itself right at that moment.
“Just... listen? If you do I promise to let you leave. I’ll even drive you home, ok? Just. I need to say something.” Pete moved his hand from Patrick’s wrist to his bicep and gave him a pleading look.
“Fine just... make it fast, okay?” Pete pulled Patrick back onto the bed and made him sit down. “Ok, I’m not some creepy stalker. I promise I’m not but… god! I’m so much better at writing words that actually saying them,” he sighed then turned to look at Patrick. The kid’s eyes were wide in the dim light and he looked like he was hoping for something. Pete prayed that he could get these words right. “I’ve been watching you at shows for the past three fucking months and I’ve never been so scared to tell someone that in my entire life. God... Patrick, I didn’t want this to just be a one night stand. I wanted to wake up next to you; share kisses while cooking breakfast, hold hands and go for walks together. That’s what I want from you. I don’t even fucking care if we have sex tonight I just- I don’t want you to go.” Pete’s monologue faltered to a clumsy close and he looked down at their hands which someone had twined themselves together. His ears were filled with a thick silence broken only by his and Patrick’s breathing. He didn’t look up; he couldn’t meet Patrick’s too-blue eyes.
Patrick’s eyes went wide at the end of Pete’s statement. He’d hoped, of course he’d hoped, but he’d never expected Pete to feel the same way as he did. He wasn’t even sure about what he should say to that. If Pete was no good at speaking words then Patrick was dismal. He couldn’t think of anything at all to reply to that. It was like Pete had taken the words right out of his mind and recited them back to him. Patrick didn’t think that Pete was a mind reader but he’d be willing to argue the point right now. It was only when Pete stared up at him with his nearly black eyes that Patrick realised he needed to say something. He looked away and started in a very small voice, “this is like a fairy tale.” He dropped his eyes back down to their fastened hands again before he found the lines to continue again, “it was like you took those words right from my head, seriously. I- if you’re shit with words than I’m- I dunno, really bad. I’ll try this again.”
Patrick needed a pause to try and collect his thought but it was hard with Pete next to him, pressing into him so close that the bassist was nearly in his lap and with Pete’s calloused fingers fumbled over Patrick’s own. Patrick bit his lip and opened his mouth once more. “I want to sit curled up with you for hours, talking about anything: music, books... I want to make you breakfast and kiss you constantly. I want to never see you take another boy or girl home again. I want you, Pete. I want to try this. I-”
Patrick was cut off by lips hitting his own and tongue forcing its way into his mouth. He reciprocated the kiss instantly this time, pressing into Pete. He remembered on last thing he needed to say though. “Pete-” he said but was interrupted by lips and tongue again. “Pete! There’s-” Pete pressed further in. Patrick felt hands on his hips and he also felt Pete trying to push him back against the bed. “I’m not eighteen!” he cried.
Pete stopped what he’d been doing and looked up at Patrick. “You lied to me,” he stated. “I can’t believe you lied to me! How old are you then?” Pete wasn’t angry at all, really. Lots of kids had lied to him in the past so that they could get into his pants, so why would Patrick be any different? Pete delighted in the kid’s deep blush.
“Seventeen,” he said in a small voice.”But I’m eighteen in a couple of months so...”
<(^^)>
Pete, being the asshole that he was, climbed off of Patrick, “Then we’re going to have to wait ‘til then. I don’t want to get arrested Patrick. The authorities don’t really like it when old guys like me mess around with sweet young things like yourself.” He chanced a glance up and Patrick looked distressed.
“But I won’t tell anybody! We can keep it a secret ‘til I do turn eighteen just- please don’t take this away from me!” Patrick sounded so desperate that it actually made Pete’s heart ache. He couldn’t keep the joke going any longer because he knew that the thought of not being with Patrick for a stupid reason like his age would hurt him just as much as it was obviously hurting Patrick.
Pete looked at him and grinned.
“I’m kidding kid,” he laughed. “Just, if Andy asks, please tell him you’re eighteen already. He’s a little, uh, weird about the whole thing.”
“I promise.” Patrick smiled, “so... You aren’t going to go home with Ryan Ross anymore are you?”
“No, guarantees on that one,” Pete replied. He flashed his eyes to Patrick’s and delighted inwardly at the jealousy there.
“What the hell?” the kid demanded. “Seriously, do you even know what being boyfriends means?”
Pete chuckled, “Ryan’s fucking fifteen, ‘Trick,” he found that he liked the little pet name. “Besides, he has a serious boyfriend. I’ve never even kissed the kid, let alone done anything else. We talk music together, that’s all.”
“Oh,” Patrick said. “Oh. That means you knew I was lying.”
“The whole time,” Pete replied. “I’m betting you’re a virgin too.” He knew he was right by the blush that flashed over Patrick’s cheeks. “And that means we aren’t doing anything more than making out. First times should be special and doing it right now would be a mistake.”
“But-”
“Trust me ‘Trick,” he really liked the sound of that pet name. “It’ll happen, just not tonight. Kissing though? Most definitely. You’re not going to get away with me not having my mouth all over you.”
Pete watched the kid grin and lean forward. He closed the space between their mouths easily and kissed Patrick so hard he was sure it made him dizzy. This was perfect. Pete was gripping the hips of this kid who was everything he’d ever wanted and kissing the life out of him. He could barely wrap his mind around it. It was Patrick… Patrick was in his arms, in his bed and not looking like he was planning on leaving any time soon. It was all too perfect and he was so, so happy that things had happened the way they did that night.
He’d just have to not tell Andy how old the kid was until Patrick actually turned eighteen...
Rating: R
Pairing: Pete/Patrick, mentions of Ryan/Brendon
POV: Third
Summary: Patrick and Pete both want each other, Pete just hopes that when he asks, Patrick tells him that he’s eighteen.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the boys or the song. I don’t own Racetraitor or really anything else. The song belongs to the Matches, as does the cut title and the boys belong to themselves, at least until Pete signs his life away aka gets married.
Notes: For the purposes of this story, Patrick’s eyes are blue. So there. I also know nothing about Racetraitor. This is obviously fiction, so I made all of it up. The title belongs to The Matches and it’s a really good song, so you should listen. Warnings are jailbait! Patrick and also Joe getting high. I hope you guys like it.
Patrick stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom and thoroughly checked himself out. He had to admit that he looked good. He looked good enough that, were he in an alternate universe with himself, there would definitely be some make outs going on. He grinned widely at his reflection. The argyle sweater was a nice touch but he was glad that he’d opted out of wearing the shorts and knee socks, choosing instead to wear a pair of sort of tight jeans and some all stars. He topped it all off with one of his hats, one of the ones that had a witty line scrawled across the front. He liked those hats best.
Patrick Stump was not generally the type of guy to do what he was planning on doing that night. He was not the type of boy that would shamelessly throw himself at a random guy from a random band... but this was Pete Wentz from Racetraitor! Patrick had seen the looks Pete was giving him at the last show he’d gone to and he’d also seen a few looks at other shows as well. Those looks were enough to set Patrick on fire.
Tonight was the night. Patrick knew it. Tonight, he was going to find Pete after the show and he was going to be the one that Pete brought home. He just had to wait for Joe to pick him up now. It didn’t take long. Joe liked to be at shows early so that he could be so close to the front that the band would sweat on him. Patrick found that to be a little on the gross side, but he thought that maybe if it was Pete’s sweat then that might be okay, especially since he was planning on being covered in Pete’s sweat before the night was through anyway.
When Joe arrived, Patrick hopped into Joe’s little hatchback beater. “Hey dude,” he said.
“Someone’s dressed up tonight,” Joe said with a teasing grin. “What’s the special occasion?”
“Remember the looks Pete was giving me at the last show? Tonight I’m going to go home with him,” Patrick announced proudly.
“Dude, are you sure? Pete’s like a fucking slut. Seriously, he’s a shallow douche bag, you don’t want him,” Joe stated, driving towards the venue.
“Oh but I do want him. I want him so bad that I can be a fucking slut, Joe, you just don’t understand.”
“That would be because I fuck chicks,” Joe replied. “But seriously, be careful with him. He might have syphilis.”
“Fuck you Joe, Pete Wentz does not have syphilis,” Patrick retorted.
“How would you know?”
“Because he’s fucking Pete Wentz! His sheer awesomeness would prevent the contraction and spread of any STD’s to his system.”
“Did you seriously just fucking say that? Better yet, do you fucking believe it?” Joe asked incredulously.
“Of course. Pete’s the God of Hardcore. He’s like, immune to shit like STD’s and the flu and, I dunno, measles or some shit,” Patrick replied. Joe rolled his eyes and pulled into the parking lot. He parked his piece of shit car in one of the closest spots and then they bounced over to be the first ones in line. Doors didn’t open for at least another hour anyway. Patrick sometimes hated the fact that Joe always wanted to be there so early, but tonight, he figured it was worth it. Instead of complaining at all, he stood with his friend and waited for the venue to open.
<(^^<)
Pete Wentz stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom. He thoroughly checked himself out. He had to admit, he looked good. He looked good enough that, were he in an alternate universe, he’d have himself naked and in bed so quickly that his alternate self wouldn’t know what hit him. He grinned widely. He’d chosen a random band shirt and some tight jeans. His hair was a mess but it looked fucking awesome that way. He’d also lined his eyes subtly with eyeliner. At least, he’d tried to be subtle but he’d accidentally stabbed himself in the eye and then kind of scribbled all over his face so then he’d just washed it all off. It hadn’t come all the way off though, so there were subtle lines.
Pete kind of hoped that the cute red head he’d seen at the last few shows would show up again at this one. Most people would say that the boy was just another kid. Pete had to admit that he was pretty normal looking and shit, but there was just something about him, some sparkle that Pete had never see shine so bright. Everyone in the world had some degree of sparkle, though sometimes it was marred by a lack of ambition. This kid’s sparkle was so bright he glowed. If the kid was there tonight, Pete wasn’t going to let him get away a second (or third) time (Pete had sort of been stalking him for a few months worth of shows but somehow always managed to get distracted before he could get to the kid).
Pete sprinted outside at the sound of a horn honking. He hopped into Andy’s car. His friend grinned, “Dude, are you wearing eyeliner?,” Andy asked with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, I know you’re all about embracing your sexuality and everything but make up? Pete, come on.”
Pete ignored his friend and said instead, “Remember that kid from last week, the cute little red head? I have a feeling he’ll be there tonight. If he is, I’m taking him home with me.”
“Dude, are you sure? Kid doesn’t look much like a slut, I don’t know if he’d go for you. Maybe he’s straight.”
“Dude, don’t dude me. Besides, he’s so not straight and he’s got it for me bad.” Pete remembered the special smiles the kid was giving him every time their eyes met. “Besides, even if he is straight, I can turn him. He wouldn’t be the first.”
“What if he’s not eighteen? You already got fucked with that one kid who lied to you. Cops said if you did it again, they’d do something about it. You were lucky to get off with a warning last time. We don’t need our bass player going to jail because he couldn’t fucking keep it in his pants.” Pete knew that Andy was right, that thing with the last kid really was a bad scene but this new kid… He had to be eighteen, right?
“Then we’ll just have to hope he says he’s eighteen,” Pete replied brightly.
“I’ve got my fingers crossed,” Andy said grimly.
<(^^)>
Patrick and Joe were right up from, which was exactly where they both wanted to be for two entirely different reasons. Patrick staked their spot even between sets when Joe went out with a few of their friends to get stoned. Typical of the Chicago scene, some of the bands were absolutely wretched while others were decent. The only reason Racetraitor was decent was because Pete didn’t actually try to sing. The dude was okay at yelling, which was common for the hardcore scene but singing… not so much. Patrick had heard him try and he still cringed at the memory. The few bands he’d already seen tonight were purely yawn-worthy. Patrick had to force himself to keep the bored expression from his face. Racetraitor was up next though and then Patrick could finally abandon their spot to like, use the washroom and seek Pete out.
Just when Patrick was starting to think that Joe was going to miss the set, Joe rejoined him. It was a mere three seconds before Pete hit the stage. Joe’s eyes were glazed and bloodshot but Patrick had expected that. He smiled and turned back to the stage and waited for the band. They hit the stage like a storm; all thunder and magnificence. Patrick started jumping and grinning right away. He pumped his fist in time with the beat and basically made a complete spectacle of himself. He’d seen the boys that Pete had not so discretely snuck off with to the bathrooms, alleys, or even just random corners, and they were always the brightest boys in the crowd. Patrick was determined to be that boy tonight.
When Pete flashed Patrick his too-big toothy grin and accompanied it with a wink, he knew he’d succeeded. Patrick smiled back and continued to dance up a storm. He didn`t even know if Joe was bedside him anymore but that didn`t matter because every time he looked up, Pete’s eyes met his.
(>^^)>
Pete wasn’t sure what he’d expected to happen when the band hit the stage that night. He knew he’d told Andy that the cute little red head would be there that night but truth be told, he wasn’t actually sure. He hoped that the kid would show, he really did. That kid was just so damn shiny. He was getting the feeling that if he and the kid did hook up (which he was really looking forward to) it would be more than just a one time thing. He’d been watching this red head for the past few months and he thought that there would be a bit more of a connection between him and the kid. At least, he hoped there would be, because really, the kid was fucking gorgeous.
They were three songs into their set when Pete spotted him. When he did, he wasn’t exactly sure how he had missed him in the first place. The kid was going fucking nuts! He was jumping all over the place, spinning, hopping, pumping his fist... he seemed so into it and from the way he was looking at Pete, so into him. This was looking very promising. Pete flashed him a grin and winked. He made sure to keep his eyes on the kid throughout the whole set.
Pete really outdid himself that night. He sang harder, played better and just performed far more spectacularly than he’d ever done before. Maybe this kid really was what he needed. He’d been feeling quite lethargic lately, but this kid was igniting him, making him want more again. There was no way Pete was letting him get away again.
On their last song, Pete leaned forward over the crowd, over the kid and just screamed the lyrics out. He was so high; he was floating, soaring over all the kids in the club except the one in front of him. This kid, he was soaring with Pete. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. Pete didn’t think he could ever feel better than this, but then he heard something. The fucking kid was singing along! He was smiling at Pete, his blue eyes bright and his mouth singing Pete’s song right back to him. Pete hadn’t thought that anyone could even understand what he was saying, let alone be able to sing the words back. He knew one thing at that moment though; Pete never wanted to hear this kid with this heavenly voice sing any songs but his own, ever.
<(^^)>
Patrick really tried not to cringe when Pete leaned close to him and started singing. Patrick liked music a lot. He could play loads of different instruments pretty well. He knew about tone and pitch. Pete was not quite tone deaf, but pretty damn close and his bass playing was mediocre at best. Patrick kind of felt bad for the guy. He could really use some lessons. Lessons on bass were definitely something that Patrick was willing to provide Pete Wentz. The thing was though, the lyrics weren’t bad. Like, the words Pete was singing had meaning and alliteration and metaphors. They were good. If only Pete could find himself a decent vocalist.
Pete seemed pretty insistent on singing to Patrick that night though and Patrick kind of felt his heart flutter because of it. The bassist’s eyes were bright, brighter than Patrick had ever seen them and Pete was so on that night, despite the vocal issues. Pete being so on was making Patrick feel even more brave and comfortable in his own skin. That was saying something because usually Patrick only felt comfortable when he was at home, alone in his bedroom, with a guitar in his hands. Despite what his better judgement would have told him at any other time, Patrick started singing along with Pete.
He’d sort of stalked Racetraitor on the internet and found a shitty website dedicated to the band where all of their lyrics were posted. He was pretty sure that Pete made it too. That was how he knew what Pete was screaming and that was how he was able to sing the words back. Patrick closed his eyes and sang at Pete, mouthing the words perfectly. He felt a sweaty hand in his hair on the last line, moving around to cup his cheek; he looked up to see Pete’s eyes boring into his own. His breath caught in his throat and his voice faltered to a clumsy close. Pete’s chestnut eyes were so intensely like they were looking right through Patrick and into his mind. Pete looked like he was trying to read everything about Patrick in those two seconds before the last word rang out and Pete’s band mates were pulling him form the stage. Patrick’s skin burned where Pete`s hand had touched it.
This was the best fucking night ever.
<(^^<)
Pete wanted to swear and curse and kick his band mates when they pulled him away from the kid. He’d been about to kiss him, like with tongue and everything. He’d wanted to kiss him so bad too but then, then he felt Andy’s grabby hands on his arms, wrenching him away from his boy. That was right, his boy. Pete wasn’t letting him get away, not tonight and not ever again. He had no idea if you could be in love with someone before even knowing his name but he was pretty sure that this feeling inside him wasn’t a side effect of the awesome set they’d just put on or the adrenaline. His heart was giving him that fluttery feeling he got when he’d had too much caffeine or when he was feeling things that were just too big for him and he needed to find an outlet. He needed to find his boy.
Andy pushed him up against the wall in the dressing room.
“Make fucking sure he’s 18 Pete,” he growled. Pete pulled his face away, pressing the back of his head against the wall. He made a face and Andy let Pete go. Pete blinked a few times. What did being eighteen have to do with anything? Wait. That was right... all that trouble he’d gotten into with that kid who’d lied.
“Ok, I’ll make sure,” Pete replied. He knew the truth though, Andy would be lucky if Pete even remembered to ask the kid. If he wasn’t in love, then he was at least enamoured. Pete kind of lost al use of his brain in these situations, he knew he wasn’t going to be thinking properly at all. He paused long enough to change his shirt and splashed his face but then he was off and out into the warehouse. Andy’s words fluttered out of his mind like all the other good advice that the drummer gave him.
The first problem that made its way into Pete’s mind was the fact that he had no idea where his boy was. He didn’t know anything about him really. The only thing Pete did know was that tonight the kid shined brighter than any stage light Pete had ever seen. He figured if he looked for that brightness, he’d definitely find the kid. Turned out though, Pete didn’t have to look too hard, his boy found him pretty easily.
<(^^)>
Patrick saw Pete come out of the backstage area practically right after his set ended. He had a familiar look about him; he was on the prowl. Well Patrick wasn’t going to let him get distracted by someone who wasn’t him. That slut Ryan Ross had beat him to it last week and Patrick wasn’t going to have that happen again. He sauntered up to Pete casually despite how much his hands were shaking. “Hi,” he said. Patrick cringed at how high his voice went at the end. It was like he was asking a question and that little crack, way to be suave...
It didn’t seem to faze Pete though. He practically skipped over to Patrick, complete with the big creepy grin.
“Hey,” Pete replied. His tone was even a little creepy and his grin seemed to grow even wider. Then he frowned like he was remembering something then blurted, “Are you eighteen?”
This seemed to be a very important question to Pete, like, essential for Pete to continue the conversation, so Patrick lied, “yes.” He knew he’d done the right thing when Pete’s eyes brightened and his grin widened if that were at all possible. “I’m Patrick” he introduced.
“Hey there Patrick,” Pete said, moving a little closer. Patrick felt a hand creeping over his hip. “This band is completely lame. Wanna go somewhere?”
Patrick figured that his was a line that Pete must use on thousands of unsuspecting teenagers. He knew that his chest shouldn’t be tightening because Pete had propositioned him like he had so many others. He knew this but he felt himself nodding anyway. He could totally be this kind of boy. Totally.
He felt a shiver run up his arm when Pete took his hand and led him outside where all of the smokers were lighting up. Patrick decided he really didn’t have to use the bathroom that badly anyway and followed the bassist over to an older looking Jeep. It was at that time Patrick noticed how short Pete was. Patrick himself wasn’t tall at all but Pete was only a teeny bit taller than he was. This was a shock to Patrick. If Pete’s awesomeness couldn’t make Pete taller, maybe it couldn’t protect him from STD’s either. Maybe Joe was right, maybe Pete did have syphilis! He’d just make sure they used a condom then….
(>^^)>
Pete unlocked and held the door open for Patrick. He sighed inwardly, what a pathetically normal name for someone so incredibly special. He swung around and hopped into his own side but didn’t bother starting the vehicle yet. “So,” he said. “You know more about me than I do about you. Tell me, where did you learn to sing like that?”
Patrick blinked up at him with a curious look on his face. “What do you mean?” I just sang back to you. I didn’t do anything special.”
“Nothing special?” Pete was incredulous. “You only have the best fucking voice I’ve ever heard. Seriously.” Pete replied. Patrick looked a little uncomfortable, like he wasn’t used to compliments at all. Pete knew he’d have to change the subject fast or else he’d lose this opportunity. He’d mistakenly been under the impression that if he were to get Patrick alone, the words would just flow between them, like he wouldn’t have to struggle to find them or resort to cheap pickup lines. He was groping to find something but then Patrick saved them.
“So are you going to take me home or not?” he asked. With the look the kid was giving him, Pete would have quite joyfully taken him on the front sear of the jeep. He figured though, with a connection like this, Patrick at least deserved a bed. He fired up the engine in reply.
“So do you do this often?” Pete asked
“What? Go home with random scene guys that are in bands?” Pete, instead of watching the road, watched the crease between Patrick’s eyebrows. “Oh yeah, it’s like a competition between Ryan Ross and I, to see which one of us can get with the most band dudes.”
Pete knew this wasn’t true at all. Ryan had a serious boyfriend named Brendon. The times when Ryan would come to Pete were when he and Brendon were fighting or when Ran needed someone to discuss lyrics with. Besides, Ryan was fucking fifteen; even Pete wouldn’t go that far. He didn’t say anything though. He’d just see how far this kid would take it.
“Oh,” Pete replied. He smiled, “well now you can add me to the list too.”
“Uh, yeah. I mean… yeah.” Patrick said with a hint of awkwardness. It was at that point that Pete realised that Patrick was likely a virgin....
<(^^)>
Pete’s room was not at all what Patrick had expected it to be. For one thing, Pete sill lived with his parents. For another, he had two twin beds that were pushed together to make a bigger one. Patrick was kind of scared that he’d fall through the crack. And lastly, Pete called it his ‘love cave’. Patrick couldn’t get over how cheesy the ‘King of Hardcore’ really was. Patrick sat down on the bed gingerly and looked up at Pete. “Hi,” he said.
He watched Pete smile. He really liked Pete’s smile, he found. “Hi,” Pete replied. He came over and sat down close to Patrick. “So how did you like the show?” he asked.
Patrick lit right up. Music was something he knew, something he could totally talk about. “Dude,” he said “you were on tonight. Like, I’ve never seen you perform so well. I’ve never seen you play so hard or scream so loud. It was... It was fucking amazing. I kind of wanted that show to last forever because it was seriously the best I’ve ever been to,” Patrick stated. He turned during his monologue to face Pete and then frowned. “But dude, you kind of shitty on bass and well, you can’t really sing either.”
Pete shot him a crooked grin. “So I’ve been told,” he said.
“I can play bass pretty good...” Patrick continued. He blurted out the rest before he lost his never because this was fucking Pete Wentz and they were in his room sitting on his fucking bed and... Why wasn’t there more kissing going on? Oh, right, Patrick needed to get back on subject, “I could teach you.”
Pete seemed to be a sufferer of attention deficit disorder because he didn’t even bother answering Patrick. He just leaned forward and basically attacked Patrick’s mouth. Patrick gasped and pulled back but Pete’s mouth followed him and suddenly Patrick was on his back on the bed with the bassist on top of him. He moved to push Pete away again but stopped. Wasn’t this what he’d wanted?
It was, but not quite. He wanted to realize the connection he felt with Pete. He wanted to know if Pete felt it too. Patrick wanted to bond with Pete, to stay up all night with him on the phone. He wanted to talk about music, books, food, movies or anything really. Pete didn’t seem like that kind of guy though and Patrick was willing to take whatever he could get.... He pulled Pete closer and kissed him back.
<(^^<)
Pete was about to pull off of Patrick because the kid was just lying there and letting him do stuff to him. He wasn’t responding at all and it was making Pete a little uncomfortable. This was supposed to be a mutual thing. He’d thought that this was what Patrick wanted.... He was starting; just starting to pull away to ask what was going on when Patrick pulled him forward again pressed their mouths together, kissing Pete almost desperately.
This was better. This was much much better. Patrick’s mouth was hot and passionate. His tongue darted out almost shyly but at the same time determinedly. Patrick wanted this, Pete could tell. Pete just hoped that Patrick wanted more than just the physical. Pete pulled their mouths apart and started kissing down Patrick’s neck, nipping softly and delighting in the gasps that came out of Patrick. The kid’s hands were on Pete’s shoulders, gripping at his shirt and pulling him even closer. Pete was hard already but even he realised that he was a horny little bastard. He hoped that maybe they could do this more than once tonight. More than once would make him a very happy man. Even if Patrick was a virgin, he seemed to want this and really, who was Pete to deny him?
He slipped his hands under Patrick’s shirt, tickling them over the kid’s skin. Patrick squirmed and Pete grinned. He brought their mouths back together and kissed Patrick roughly as he pulled the t-shirt up. Despite the fact that Pete could likely ask any of his one-night stands to do anything for him, Pete preferred to pleasure his partner before taking his own; he liked seeing the looks of ecstasy on their faces. Listening to soft cries and gasps and feeling hips shifting underneath his own got him off so much better than just demanding a blowjob then sending the groupie on his way. He liked to watch his boys come and know it was because he was making them feel good.
Patrick’s shirt was on the floor now and Pete felt grabby hands on the hem of his own. For being a presumptive virgin, Patrick seemed pretty insistent on getting Pete’s clothes off. This just spurred Pete on more. He let Patrick rid him of the offending garment but then leaned down to kiss over Patrick’s chest. “You’re fucking beautiful,” Pete said. His voice was harsh, like he hadn’t talked in years. The scratchiness of it drifted out into the silence and just seemed to hang there, like smoke in an airtight room.
Patrick paused and blinked up at him. “You really think so?” he asked.
Pete nodded and cleared his throat. “Just... fuck. Look at yourself. Your skin is perfect all speckled with freckles on your shoulders and like, creamy. Beautiful. Your eyes are so fucking blue that not even the sky can compare on its best days. Patrick you have to believe me.”
“No.” Patrick replied, shaking his head. “You’re beautiful Pete,” he said finally. He didn’t go into any more detail though, he just leaned forward and pressed their mouths back together in a kiss so hot Pete was surprised they didn’t catch fire.
<(^^)>
Patrick could not believe that Pete fucking Wentz believed he was beautiful. He absolutely couldn’t. Patrick just, yeah, he was cute, sometimes, maybe funny. He’d looked pretty good earlier but Patrick had never ever thought to consider himself beautiful. Ryan Ross, now he was beautiful. Bill Beckett? He was too. Patrick? Not so much. He listened to Pete, watched his mouth as the words formed and left his lips. He listened as they floated into the silence and hung between them.
When Pete seemed like he was done Patrick peered at him ponderously. “No,” he said, “you’re the on that’s beautiful Pete.” With that statement, he pulled Pete against him again and kissed him harder than he’d ever kissed anyone before. He felt Pete’s hands on his hips and then he felt them move between the two of them and dart towards his zipper. Patrick made a noise that was something between a gasp and a groan and realized that maybe his body had a mind of its own, because his hips jerked up almost violently to meet Pete’s fingers. That happened completely against Patrick’s will. It wasn’t fair. He was starting to get a little bit nervous though, because truth be told, Patrick wasn’t really this kind of boy at all. He wasn’t the type of guy who went home with a practical stranger and tried to get off with him. Patrick was really started to get nervous now.
Thankfully Pete’s hands stopped trying to get Patrick’s clothes off and went back to basically feeling him up instead. Patrick was okay with that though. Pete had already done this. Patrick had let other people do this. It wasn’t something completely new to him. Pete’s hands were all over his chest and they were followed quickly by his lips and teeth. Patrick was letting out involuntary gasps and arching against Pete’s hard body.
The thing that made Patrick fall apart though, was Pete’s hands slipping beneath the waistband of his underwear and not in a good way. “Pete, Pete,” he managed to gasp.
“Mmm yeah baby. You like that?” he asked.
“No. Stop, please,” and all of a sudden Pete’s weight was gone and Patrick found his breath returning.
(>^^)>
When Pete heard the “no” word, he pulled right off, like all the way off the bed. Despite some of his more dubious actions in the past, he wasn’t one to force himself onto someone who was having second thoughts, especially not someone like Patrick. He shifted from foot to foot, looking at Patrick nervously. The kid was trying to get his breath back and when he finally succeeded, he sat up and looked at Pete.
“I um,... I’m not...” Patrick brought his hands up and covered his face in what Pete thought was shame. “I’m not this boy Pete. I... I thought I could be, but I can’t.” Pete watched him get on the bed and then throw his legs over the edge and god, those thighs! How could Pete not have noticed them before? They were perfect, absolutely- wait. Was Patrick getting dressed? “I should just go...” he said, pulling his shirt over his head.
Pete caught the hem then reached and took possession of Patrick’s wrist. “Please,” he said, “please don’t go.”
“Don’t make this more awkward than it already is,” Patrick snapped. “Seriously, I’m sorry you get to miss out on your fun but I’m sure that if you went back to the show you’d find about a million other kids that can do for you what I obviously can’t.” Pete thought it was a good thing that the kid had a backbone; that meant that Patrick would challenge him, say no to him. Pete liked a challenge. He was just a little disappointed that it was showing itself right at that moment.
“Just... listen? If you do I promise to let you leave. I’ll even drive you home, ok? Just. I need to say something.” Pete moved his hand from Patrick’s wrist to his bicep and gave him a pleading look.
“Fine just... make it fast, okay?” Pete pulled Patrick back onto the bed and made him sit down. “Ok, I’m not some creepy stalker. I promise I’m not but… god! I’m so much better at writing words that actually saying them,” he sighed then turned to look at Patrick. The kid’s eyes were wide in the dim light and he looked like he was hoping for something. Pete prayed that he could get these words right. “I’ve been watching you at shows for the past three fucking months and I’ve never been so scared to tell someone that in my entire life. God... Patrick, I didn’t want this to just be a one night stand. I wanted to wake up next to you; share kisses while cooking breakfast, hold hands and go for walks together. That’s what I want from you. I don’t even fucking care if we have sex tonight I just- I don’t want you to go.” Pete’s monologue faltered to a clumsy close and he looked down at their hands which someone had twined themselves together. His ears were filled with a thick silence broken only by his and Patrick’s breathing. He didn’t look up; he couldn’t meet Patrick’s too-blue eyes.
Patrick’s eyes went wide at the end of Pete’s statement. He’d hoped, of course he’d hoped, but he’d never expected Pete to feel the same way as he did. He wasn’t even sure about what he should say to that. If Pete was no good at speaking words then Patrick was dismal. He couldn’t think of anything at all to reply to that. It was like Pete had taken the words right out of his mind and recited them back to him. Patrick didn’t think that Pete was a mind reader but he’d be willing to argue the point right now. It was only when Pete stared up at him with his nearly black eyes that Patrick realised he needed to say something. He looked away and started in a very small voice, “this is like a fairy tale.” He dropped his eyes back down to their fastened hands again before he found the lines to continue again, “it was like you took those words right from my head, seriously. I- if you’re shit with words than I’m- I dunno, really bad. I’ll try this again.”
Patrick needed a pause to try and collect his thought but it was hard with Pete next to him, pressing into him so close that the bassist was nearly in his lap and with Pete’s calloused fingers fumbled over Patrick’s own. Patrick bit his lip and opened his mouth once more. “I want to sit curled up with you for hours, talking about anything: music, books... I want to make you breakfast and kiss you constantly. I want to never see you take another boy or girl home again. I want you, Pete. I want to try this. I-”
Patrick was cut off by lips hitting his own and tongue forcing its way into his mouth. He reciprocated the kiss instantly this time, pressing into Pete. He remembered on last thing he needed to say though. “Pete-” he said but was interrupted by lips and tongue again. “Pete! There’s-” Pete pressed further in. Patrick felt hands on his hips and he also felt Pete trying to push him back against the bed. “I’m not eighteen!” he cried.
Pete stopped what he’d been doing and looked up at Patrick. “You lied to me,” he stated. “I can’t believe you lied to me! How old are you then?” Pete wasn’t angry at all, really. Lots of kids had lied to him in the past so that they could get into his pants, so why would Patrick be any different? Pete delighted in the kid’s deep blush.
“Seventeen,” he said in a small voice.”But I’m eighteen in a couple of months so...”
<(^^)>
Pete, being the asshole that he was, climbed off of Patrick, “Then we’re going to have to wait ‘til then. I don’t want to get arrested Patrick. The authorities don’t really like it when old guys like me mess around with sweet young things like yourself.” He chanced a glance up and Patrick looked distressed.
“But I won’t tell anybody! We can keep it a secret ‘til I do turn eighteen just- please don’t take this away from me!” Patrick sounded so desperate that it actually made Pete’s heart ache. He couldn’t keep the joke going any longer because he knew that the thought of not being with Patrick for a stupid reason like his age would hurt him just as much as it was obviously hurting Patrick.
Pete looked at him and grinned.
“I’m kidding kid,” he laughed. “Just, if Andy asks, please tell him you’re eighteen already. He’s a little, uh, weird about the whole thing.”
“I promise.” Patrick smiled, “so... You aren’t going to go home with Ryan Ross anymore are you?”
“No, guarantees on that one,” Pete replied. He flashed his eyes to Patrick’s and delighted inwardly at the jealousy there.
“What the hell?” the kid demanded. “Seriously, do you even know what being boyfriends means?”
Pete chuckled, “Ryan’s fucking fifteen, ‘Trick,” he found that he liked the little pet name. “Besides, he has a serious boyfriend. I’ve never even kissed the kid, let alone done anything else. We talk music together, that’s all.”
“Oh,” Patrick said. “Oh. That means you knew I was lying.”
“The whole time,” Pete replied. “I’m betting you’re a virgin too.” He knew he was right by the blush that flashed over Patrick’s cheeks. “And that means we aren’t doing anything more than making out. First times should be special and doing it right now would be a mistake.”
“But-”
“Trust me ‘Trick,” he really liked the sound of that pet name. “It’ll happen, just not tonight. Kissing though? Most definitely. You’re not going to get away with me not having my mouth all over you.”
Pete watched the kid grin and lean forward. He closed the space between their mouths easily and kissed Patrick so hard he was sure it made him dizzy. This was perfect. Pete was gripping the hips of this kid who was everything he’d ever wanted and kissing the life out of him. He could barely wrap his mind around it. It was Patrick… Patrick was in his arms, in his bed and not looking like he was planning on leaving any time soon. It was all too perfect and he was so, so happy that things had happened the way they did that night.
He’d just have to not tell Andy how old the kid was until Patrick actually turned eighteen...