[identity profile] finkpishnets.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] ivoryandgoldd
well, i guess we should have seen it coming
bandom | pete/mikey | pg-13 | ~932
(210): i just complicated the hell out of my summer by fucking him this early on.

a/n: originally posted at [livejournal.com profile] lemniciate's texts from last night fest way back when. posting to my own journal now so it doesn't get lost in the ether (of deleted journals).



Pete’s rules get a little, uh, loose when he’s drunk. Like how he won’t go near the shit Joe smokes or send naked pictures of himself to his ex or sing Britney Spears songs. When he’s drunk those tend to go to hell.

He’s never broken the gay above the waist rule though (not that he remembers anyway).

“You’re really tall,” he says, and the guy who looks kind of like a girl only prettier blinks and raises an eyebrow like he’s not completely wasted too.

“You’re really short,” he says blankly, and Pete’s sort of deeply impressed that he’s not slurring his words. That’s some serious talent.

“I’m Pete,” he says, only it actually comes out as, “I kind of want to bite your ear.”

Seriously Pretty Dude shrugs. “Okay,” he says.

Which, yeah. Awesome. Awesome.

Pete thinks his ear tastes like vodka but that might just be his mouth.

“Mikey,” someone says, and Pete looks up because that’s not his name, and, oh, okay, they mean Seriously Pretty Dude. “What the hell?”

Mikey shrugs and has a conversation entirely with his eyebrows that Pete’s more than a little bemused by, and then the familiar looking guy with the long black hair sighs and leaves and that’s better. He didn’t look like he’d let Pete bite his ear anyway.

“I’m Pete,” he says again, and this time it comes out right. Mikey shrugs like he already knows or like he doesn’t care.

Mikey turns his head at the same time Pete does and then they’re kissing completely by accident, and that might be Pete’s favorite kind of kissing because the surprise makes everything feel even better. Also, you know, he likes making out with people. All people. Patrick says it’s a complex.

He doesn’t know how long they stay there sharing lazy kisses but at some point it goes quiet, everyone trailing off to make the most of the clean buses that only ever exist on the first night of tour. It’s still warm out even though they’re nearer dawn than dusk, and the streetlights a couple hundred feet away cast a dull, orange light over everything; when he opens his eyes Pete can still make out the faint dusting of sun-made freckles on Mikey’s nose.

Pete can feel the alcohol in his veins, feel it washing over his vision even though the remains of sober him (who sounds kind of like Patrick when he thinks about it) would say that’s not actually possible however good it might sound in a song. His head is cloudy enough that everything seems okay, especially the weight of Mikey’s hand on his hip and the way his breath feels against Pete’s cheek, and right now he doesn’t care about rules or labels or any of that shit, he just really, really wants to see how Mikey looks naked.

Mikey blinks and Pete realizes he said that aloud.

“Okay,” Mikey says, and, yeah.

The gay above the waist rule goes to hell.


+


“You fucked Gerard Way’s little brother,” Patrick says incredulously, unsympathetic to the way Pete’s clutching at his head and wishing for death.

“Yes?” he says because, okay, now he’s not drowning in vodka he can kind of see Seriously Pretty Mikey as Mikey Way.

“You’re such a dick,” Patrick says with a sigh, “couldn’t you at least have waited until the end of tour?”

“It’s not like I meant it to happen,” Pete whines, and Patrick rolls his eyes.

“You never do.”

Which, okay, totally makes Pete sound like a sex-crazed alcoholic. Which is mostly untrue.

Still, he’s not denying it has the potential to be awkward as hell.

“So,” he says, giving Patrick his best pleading look, “how do you explain to the dude you fucked that you’re not actually gay?”

Patrick throws a shoe at him.


+


It’s even more awkward than Pete imagined.

“Hi,” he says, and Mikey blinks. “So, uh, how are you?”

“Okay,” Mikey says, “want to go watch soundcheck?”

Fuck yes,” Pete says.

They don’t speak again all afternoon.


+


“Okay,” Patrick says, “okay.”

“What?” Pete asks from where he’s drawing over a t-shirt with a green glitter pen. He thinks Mikey would prefer pink but the last truck stop hadn’t had any.

“Let me get this straight,” Patrick says, rubbing his thumbs over his temples. “You’re now dating Gerard Way’s little brother?”

“Huh?” Pete says, frowning. “No. We’re just friends.”

“Friends who sleep together, and hang out all the time, and give each other stuff.”

Pete nods. “Yeah,” he says, then: “does this look okay to you?”

“You’ve put a heart over the i on Little,” Patrick says incredulously.

Pete doesn’t understand what he’s getting at.


+


“Patrick thinks we’re dating,” Pete says, and Mikey frowns.

“We’re not,” he says, and Pete nods.

“I know.”

He squeezes Mikey’s hand and doesn’t tell Patrick that this is something else they do.


+


Pete’s never been shy of his feelings.

Still, it’s a little inconvenient to wake up and realize you’re in love.


+


“You’re such an idiot,” Patrick says, kindly.

“Yeah,” Pete says, “I really am.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a lesson in all this.”

Pete’s pretty sure there is, too.


+


Pete writes a blog and tells the world he’s in love and that’s almost as good as telling Mikey himself.


+


Mikey meets him between the buses with a smile, blinding in its rarity, and Pete sees the rest of the summer spread out before them, their own little bubble of something like romance, and thinks that it’ll only be complicated when it’s over.

Date: 2013-11-04 08:58 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] therainbowsloth.livejournal.com
Oh Pete, you're ridiculous. And lovely. But mostly ridiculous. (Though I have to agree with him in regards of Mikey Way being Seriously Pretty). I think long-suffering, incredulous Patrick is my favourite Patrick. This was precious and kind of hilarious, even though the last line killed me in all it's bittersweet glory.

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