I think this is something really important that everyone who reads and writes RPS needs to acknowledge:
It's not real.
As much as I joke about how much I believe in this, I know it's not a real thing. By writing RPS, I'm not trying to start and rumors or slander anybody. I would think that anyone reading my writing would realize that I'm not serious when I say "Pete and Pat are so in love." Pete is married, Pat has had girlfriends. Just about everyone I write about has a family. I know that.
What RPS is about is fun. We all want to see cute boys kissing, and when it's two boys who are talented, that we know something about, and that are easily recognized by most of the country, it's easy to want to write slash of them.
I've never met an RPS writer who means any disrespect for the person that they're writing about, or who wants anyone to see said person negatively because of their writing. We write it because we like these people. We have fun writing about them and trying to imagine what they could be like in reality. I don't think it's really any different than writing about characters played by real people on TV - they're characters. These aren't people we know, even if we may feel that we do.
Were Gerard, Frank, Ray, Pat, Pete, Tom, Mark, or Travis to read any of my fanfics, I would hope that they would laugh and feel flattered rather than being angry or unsettled. What I'm saying about them in these fics is that they're cute, they seem really nice, and they're incredibly talented - I'm NOT saying that I'm portraying them accurately, that they're cheating on their wives, or that they don't love their wives and kids.
These are great guys. That's why we write about them. To anyone who finds RPS weird: we do it for fun and out of love for these celebrities. We mean no offense, and we want people to see that these stories are PURELY created in our imaginations.
RPS is greatly misunderstood by many people; as much as I joke about how "OMG SO REAL" this is, I know it isn't, and I want everyone to understand that I don't know these celebrities, so the stuff I'm writing isn't going to be accurate. It's just for fun.
(I'm not writing this because I've gotten complaints - I'm writing it to avoid them. I've seen a lot of people react to RPS very badly, and I want to head this off at the pass. ANY REAL PERSON FANFICS THAT YOU SEE FROM ME CAN HAVE THIS POST APPLIED TO THEM.)
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Ohmigod
So, don't want to sound like the stereotypical teenage girl, but OHMIGOD my life has been just a big pile of stress lately. I'ma give you the main points.
- My brother was recently in the hospital. (He's fine, he just had an infection.)
- I just made a Twitter. A Twitter. Why did I make a Twitter? I'm so confused.
- My List of Shit to Do got waaaaay bigger than it has ever been in one week. Damn papers!
- I'm late getting out ANOTHER fanfic! (Because of all the shit that's been going on, of course, but I feel AWFUL.)
- If I see another piece of Twilight gear, I will vomit into my own eyes.
- I just watched House. Which is actually kind of a shitty show, but it was my favorite episode, "Whac-a-mole." (I only watch it for the sick guy, seeing as he's REALLY REALLY HOT.)
- I think I'm slowly turning everyone in Hollywood gay. Mark and Tom. Pete and Patrick. Frank and Gerard. Chuck and Sebastian. Zacky and Synyster. (Hey, it's not my fault that THEY'RE ALL TRUE. It's not a conspiracy theory, it's honesty.)
- EVERYONE IS BUSY DOING SOMETHING INTERESTING EXCEPT ME!!! I'm busy, but everything I'm doing is fucking dull!
Anyway, yeah. I don't usually like to complain, especially not on the internet, because it's stupid, but I've been in the worst of moods for two fucking weeks. I'm still unwinding.
But anyway, yeah, I have a Twitter. If anyone's interested, my name is Alli_Bialystock on there.
Now I'm gonna go eat some pudding like the fatty I am.
Fuck.
- My brother was recently in the hospital. (He's fine, he just had an infection.)
- I just made a Twitter. A Twitter. Why did I make a Twitter? I'm so confused.
- My List of Shit to Do got waaaaay bigger than it has ever been in one week. Damn papers!
- I'm late getting out ANOTHER fanfic! (Because of all the shit that's been going on, of course, but I feel AWFUL.)
- If I see another piece of Twilight gear, I will vomit into my own eyes.
- I just watched House. Which is actually kind of a shitty show, but it was my favorite episode, "Whac-a-mole." (I only watch it for the sick guy, seeing as he's REALLY REALLY HOT.)
- I think I'm slowly turning everyone in Hollywood gay. Mark and Tom. Pete and Patrick. Frank and Gerard. Chuck and Sebastian. Zacky and Synyster. (Hey, it's not my fault that THEY'RE ALL TRUE. It's not a conspiracy theory, it's honesty.)
- EVERYONE IS BUSY DOING SOMETHING INTERESTING EXCEPT ME!!! I'm busy, but everything I'm doing is fucking dull!
Anyway, yeah. I don't usually like to complain, especially not on the internet, because it's stupid, but I've been in the worst of moods for two fucking weeks. I'm still unwinding.
But anyway, yeah, I have a Twitter. If anyone's interested, my name is Alli_Bialystock on there.
Now I'm gonna go eat some pudding like the fatty I am.
Fuck.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
High On Infinity, Chapter Six
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fall Out Boy.
Author's Note: Okay, this chapter is short short short. Hopefully I'll start up the sequel very soon. Still, there's other stuff I think I'll be posting soon.
Name: High On Infinity
Pairing: Patrick/Pete (Fall Out Boy)
Genre: Humor, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Six
Pete and I looked at each other, both of us still shaking and panting. He looked over at me and gave me a grin.
“That was even better than I imagined,” he told me happily, taking my hand in his.
I pulled a blanket over us and curled up next to him. “It was perfect,” I agreed. I laid my head on his shoulder, reveling in the feeling of his fingers laced through mine. I closed my eyes, concentrating on Pete’s body beside me. “I’m just happy that you’re happy.”
Pete kissed the top of my head and snickered. “So, you still think you’re unattractive?”
I nuzzled at Pete’s neck, kissing right beneath his ear. The only answer I could come up with was, “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked lightly, brushing my hair back.
I didn’t even try explaining. I just drifted to sleep in the crook of his arm.
Until I was woken the next morning by a two jackasses invading my home.
“PATRICK!” Andy was yelling. I jumped violently. Pete jerked to life beside me, rubbing his eyes and looking every inch like a little kid.
“YO, PAT!” That was Joe. “Do you know where Pete is?”
Pete and I grinned lazily at each other. “Yeah, I think so!” I answered, and Pete’s smile grew. “Why?”
“Because he disappeared!”
That was a voice I wasn’t expecting.
Pete and I exchanged horrified looks. “A-Ashlee?” I sputtered, pulling my blanket around me. Pete zoomed around the room like Speedy Gonzales, searching frantically for his clothes. He hopped into his boxers, and I struggled into my clothes. Both of us had a leg in our pants when the door to the living room opened, and three gaping faces were revealed to us.
“Pete?” Ashlee gasped.
“Fatty?” Joe gasped.
“All right, guys!” Andy cheered.
Pete and I looked at each other, then back at the three intruders.
What the fuck do you do in this kind of situation?
“I swear to God, Ash, I can explain,” Pete hurried, but Ashlee snorted cruelly and stormed out. Pete followed, struggling into his pants.
“Congratulations!” Andy said, following the door slam. “How was it?”
“Was he drunk?” Joe demanded. “He had to be drunk. How the hell did you trick him into sleeping with you?”
I didn’t answer. I just went back to the couch and crawled under the covers.
I really hate my life.
Author's Note: TO BE CONTINUED!!!! Please comment.
Author's Note: Okay, this chapter is short short short. Hopefully I'll start up the sequel very soon. Still, there's other stuff I think I'll be posting soon.
Name: High On Infinity
Pairing: Patrick/Pete (Fall Out Boy)
Genre: Humor, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Six
Pete and I looked at each other, both of us still shaking and panting. He looked over at me and gave me a grin.
“That was even better than I imagined,” he told me happily, taking my hand in his.
I pulled a blanket over us and curled up next to him. “It was perfect,” I agreed. I laid my head on his shoulder, reveling in the feeling of his fingers laced through mine. I closed my eyes, concentrating on Pete’s body beside me. “I’m just happy that you’re happy.”
Pete kissed the top of my head and snickered. “So, you still think you’re unattractive?”
I nuzzled at Pete’s neck, kissing right beneath his ear. The only answer I could come up with was, “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked lightly, brushing my hair back.
I didn’t even try explaining. I just drifted to sleep in the crook of his arm.
Until I was woken the next morning by a two jackasses invading my home.
“PATRICK!” Andy was yelling. I jumped violently. Pete jerked to life beside me, rubbing his eyes and looking every inch like a little kid.
“YO, PAT!” That was Joe. “Do you know where Pete is?”
Pete and I grinned lazily at each other. “Yeah, I think so!” I answered, and Pete’s smile grew. “Why?”
“Because he disappeared!”
That was a voice I wasn’t expecting.
Pete and I exchanged horrified looks. “A-Ashlee?” I sputtered, pulling my blanket around me. Pete zoomed around the room like Speedy Gonzales, searching frantically for his clothes. He hopped into his boxers, and I struggled into my clothes. Both of us had a leg in our pants when the door to the living room opened, and three gaping faces were revealed to us.
“Pete?” Ashlee gasped.
“Fatty?” Joe gasped.
“All right, guys!” Andy cheered.
Pete and I looked at each other, then back at the three intruders.
What the fuck do you do in this kind of situation?
“I swear to God, Ash, I can explain,” Pete hurried, but Ashlee snorted cruelly and stormed out. Pete followed, struggling into his pants.
“Congratulations!” Andy said, following the door slam. “How was it?”
“Was he drunk?” Joe demanded. “He had to be drunk. How the hell did you trick him into sleeping with you?”
I didn’t answer. I just went back to the couch and crawled under the covers.
I really hate my life.
Author's Note: TO BE CONTINUED!!!! Please comment.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Happy Valentine's Day!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Green Day.
Author's Note: Okay, so yes, it's a little late. I started this last year, and then just kinda forgot about it. I finished it on time - I really did - but thanks to a whole slew of difficulties the past couple days, I haven't been able to post.
As with just about everything, I took some artistic liberties. Pretty small liberties, though, like how Mike and Tre would've known each other from a local band hang out anyway, and Billie would've known Tre as well, but they never really spoke (Tre was younger and in a different band).
It wasn't because of the flowers. It wasn't because of the chocolate. It wasn't even because of the idiots making out in every movie theater he went into. It was because none of Mike's relationships ever seemed to last until February 14th. For the past three years, every person he'd gone out with broke up with him before that magical day of love and lust. Two of them even dumped him on February 13th.
"Don't worry about it, man," Billie had told him, lighting up a cigarette. "You should count yourself lucky. Valentine's Day sucks, everything about it. Hell, its initials are VD. Trust me, you're better off where you are now - nothing good can come of a crappy Hallmark holiday.
That was all well and good, Mike thought, but Billie really hadn't a clue what Mike went through every year. After all, Billie always had 80 to cuddle, snuggle, and fuck every year. At nineteen, Mike considered himself lucky to get a pity kiss on the cheek.
"Just once, man," Mike said as he stood by Billie in a flower shop on February 13th. "Just once, I'd like to manage a date on February 14th."
"I don't get you," Billie replied, digging through his pockets for his wallet. "Only, like, 2% of guys actually like the romantic stuff. Most of them just want to fuck."
"No kidding," Mike snapped. "Every guy I've gone out with says I'm out of my mind when I buy him chocolate or whatever."
"Let's not forget that you gave one of your dates an asthma attack when you gave him flowers," Billie snickered. "Remember that?"
"No, I don't seem to recollect," Mike sneered. "No shit, I fucking remember it. It was the only time I took someone to the hospital that wasn't you."
"Don't say it like that!" Billie said indignantly. "It's not like I've never had to take you to the ER. Remember that thing with the peanut?"
"I'm still amazed it could fit up there. I would've left it there as a trophy if I could've."
"Why couldn't you?"
"Firstly, it hurt like hell. Secondly, have you ever tried to pee around a peanut? It's not as easy as one might suspect."
"Good point. But, as we were saying. Valentine's Day is a major bust, man. Do you know how much money I've already spent on 80? The woman's driving me into the ground." Billie raised his voice to high, squealy pitch. "'Billie, get me flowers! Billie, let's go to a nice restaurant! Billie, get me candy! Billie, give me your balls in a jar and let me keep them above my mantelpiece so I can use your masculinity as my personal trophy!' Why the hell would you WANT to spend all this on someone?"
"It's not that I want to spend money," Mike replied, fiddling with a rose. "It's that I want someone to spend money on."
"Well, if that's all," Billie grinned, "you can buy me some candy when we leave."
Mike slapped him upside the head. "Nice shot, fatass, but no way am I shelling out money so I can make you obese."
Billie stuck his tongue out and began rooting around in his wallet to pay for 80's flowers. "This is a Goddamn robbery," he grumbled. "I can't believe it. Six fucking bucks for a fucking rose. I could get the damn things from my neighbor's garden for free."
"Hey, at least you've got someone to buy roses for."
"Oh, for the love of God! Will you stop your bitching? Christ. You get so fucking annoying this time of year. If you're gonna piss and moan, at least do it somewhere where I can't fucking hear you."
"Like where, asshole? We practically fucking live together. My house is right across the street. No matter where I am or what I say, you're gonna bitch about it, because you want me to listen to all your damn problems and keep mine all in my fucking head! What kind of friendship is that?"
Billie got in his car and slammed the door. "The kind that's making you walk your sorry emo ass home." And he took off, sticking his middle finger out the window for emphasis.
Mike trudged slowly through the park, trying to remember how to get back to his house. He wasn't used to this part of town. He tripped over something lying on the ground. Both Mike and the something yelped as Mike swayed, trying to regain balance.
When both of Mike's feet were safely back on the ground, he looked down. A round-faced teenager looked up at him, grinning almost maniacally. "Vhy, hello," the boy said in a thick Russian accent.
Mike stared. The guy's blue eyes were huge and round, making him look like a choirboy on crack. His bleached blonde hair was swept back limply, and his huge smile seemed to radiate joy and heaping helping of crazy.
"Uh, hey," Mike greeted him. He held out a hand nervously. "I'm sorry. Um, did I knock you over?"
"No," the boy replied, still grinning. "No, I vas already doing the lying of the ground." He hopped up, surprisingly limber for such a short, stocky guy. "And who is it that you are, my Comrade?"
Mike glanced around, wondering if he had somehow made it on Candid Camera and this was all some weird prank that Billie was going to laugh his ass off at later. "Er... I'm Mike," he finally said.
The guy grabbed Mike's hand and shook it ecstatically. "I'm Vlad, Vlad Pertuzky. Nice to be doing the meeting of you."
Mike gave a slightly half-nod, unable to stop staring. Something about Vlad was extremely endearing, something cute and playful and yet kind of disturbing. He didn't want to say it, but it popped out before he could stop it.
"You on drugs?"
Vlad tilted his head, then laughed. "No! I haven't done the smoking of the druggy-drug for a vhile now. Too expensitive, no?"
"Yeah, it is kinda tough on the wallet," Mike admitted with a laugh. "Not that I do it," he added quickly.
At Vlad's raised eyebrows (well, more wiggling eyebrows), Mike smiled sheepishly. "Well, okay, yeah, I do."
They walked around the park, talking, and Mike found himself growing more and more endeared to the goofy smile and wide eyes on Vlad's angelic face. He only hoped that Vlad would leave before he realized what a loser Mike actually was.
"So," Vlad said suddenly, "do you have anyone for the Valentiney Day?"
Too late. Mike was a loser.
"Uh... No," he mumbled. "But that's how I like it," he added quickly. He waved a hand at Vlad's disbelieving look. "Really. I mean, my pal, Billie, he's got a girlfriend - she's great, don't get me wrong - but she empties his wallet out every other day. Who wants to be broke all the time, you know?"
Vlad's eyes flashed and, if Mike hadn't known better, he would've thought that a look of disappointment had darted across Vlad's cheerful face. "Vell, but it's not all bad, vith the kissing and the hugging and the making of love." At the last one, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and nudged Mike's ribs. Mike's palms were sweating.
"Well... Yeah, that's true," Mike replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess things have just never worked out for me in that department."
"In vhat department?"
"Love. Romantic stuff." Mike shook his head. "It's not like I don't try. I just keep messing it up, that's all."
Vlad looked thoughtful. Then his eyes widened, excited. "Vhat is it that you are doing the trying of? Maybe I can be helping you!"
Mike glanced over at him. "What? Uh, no. I don't think so, sorry."
Vlad's face contorted into a pout. "Vhy not?" he demanded, slugging Mike lightly on the shoulder. "I vant to help."
Before Mike could answer, Vlad had looped his arm through Mike's. "Let's do the pretending," he chipred, laying his head on Mike's shoulder. "Show me how you vould treat me if I vas lady friend."
At Mike's suddent rigidity, Vlad raised an eyebrow. "Or is it man friend?"
Mike cleared his throat, his cheeks hot and his chest freezing cold. "Y-Yeah. That one."
Vlad grinned. "Okies dokies, that makes this much easier." He leaned in confidentially. "I likes having man friends, too."
"Uh... Nice." Dammit, Mike, you loser, stop talking! Just leave already!
But no. Mike simply wouldn't listen to that tiny little voice in his head. Instead, he reveled in the warmth of Vlad's body right next to his and played along.
"Now, for the romanticy conversation." Vlad cleared his throat and straighted up. "Tell me that I have nice eyes."
Mike looked into Vlad's wide blue eyes and smiled. "You have beautiful eyes." It wasn't an act, it was the truth.
Vlad smiled and pretended to blush, girlishly fanning himself. "You're so flattering!" he giggled ridiculously. Mike couldn't help but laugh along.
"Now." Vlad stepped in front of Mike, striking a Superman, hands-on-hips pose. "Pretend that you are dropping me off after date."
Mike gulped. "W-What do you mean? Like..."
"Like pretend this tree is door," Vlad explained, slapping the tree. "My door. This is end of date. Ve are standing at door. Vhat do you do?"
"Well..." Mike wiped his wet palms on his jeans. "Did we have a good time?"
"Ve had a vonderful dinner at the Olive Garden, followed by a long valk on the pier. It vas very romantic." Vlad locked his hands behind his back and grinned playfuly. There was something in his eyes, something that made Mike even more nervous. Vlad moved closer and nudged against Mike's chest, who felt as though his stomach was twisted like a pretzel. "I had a very good time," Vlad said in a falsetto, fluttering his eyelashes.
"Yeah, me too," Mike said, smiling and giving a tiny, breathless laugh. He was only inches away from Vlad, staring into those big baby blues, falling into those oceanic orbs...
"Vell?" Vlad whispered. His smiled was gone, replaced by something serious, something different, something...
Mike's heart did a somersault when his lips touched Vlad's. The park, the tree beside them, the ever-present loneliness all seemed to melt away into that touch. Every nerve on his body was doubly sensitive, feeling every twitch of movement, feeling the arms wrapping around his shoulders, feeling his hands take on a life of their own and slide down the sides of the man in his arms...
"Aw, Mike, what the fuck?"
The world snapped back into focus. Mike jerked away, whipping around to see Billie striding towards him with a smirk. "You bitch and moan about not having anyone, and then I come here to see you, making out with..." He stopped dead. "Tre?"
Vlad leaned around Mike, his face lighting up. "Oh, hey, Billie!" Every trace of an accent was gone from his voice. "What's up?"
Mike stared. "Wait... What?"
Billie walked over and yanked Vlad away from Mike, grumbling, "Jesus, man."
"Wait, wait." Mike pointed at Vlad, bewildered. "What did you call him?"
"Tre. That's his name." Billie slapped a still-grinning Vlad (or, really, Tre) upside the head. "What did you do to him? Did you mess with his head?"
Tre widened his eyes in mock surprise. "Who, me? Never!"
Billie sighed. He turned back to Mike. "Mike Pritchard, mee Tre Cool. He's a drummer. You remember that little kid from The Lookouts?"
"Oh yeah, I remember you now!" Tre exclaimed, grabbing Mike's hand and giving it a vigorous shake. "The bass player in Sweet Children! Nice to meet ya!"
"Yeah... You too..." Mike felt his face go warm. Dammit. He finally thinks he found a guy, and he wasn't even real?
"Man, 80 said you were kind of a little jerk," Billie muttered to Tre, "but I never woulda pegged you as the type to jerk some poor dude around."
"Who did I jerk around?" This time, Tre looked earnest. He knit is eyebrows together in a frown. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you shouldn't go giving some poor guy with no self-esteem and no one to love him false hope." Billie gave Mike a tap on the shoulder. "Come on, man, let's go. I've got things to do besides save you from your romantic misery."
"Yeah." Mike tried to stifle his humiliation enough for Billie not to see it. "Yeah, I'm coming."
It wasn't until Mike was halway to the car that he heard, "Wait." He turned to see Tre trotting up, looking worried. It was an expression Mike had never thought he'd see on such a bright, careless person. He grabbed onto Mike's wrist, obviously worried that he wouldn't stay to hear him out.
"What's up?" Billie called from his car, exasperated.
"Just hold on a sec," Mike yelled back. He looked sideways at Tre. He was desperate to not look as hurt and miserable as he felt. "Yeah? What is it?"
"You didn't..." Tre was panting a little from the short run. "You didn't really think I was just fucking around with you, did you?"
Mike just shrugged. "Why wouldn't you? That's what everybody else does."
Mike was shocked to see Tre blush. "Yeah, well, I don't know about everybody else," he mumbled, "but I meant it. The only reason I talked to you in the first place was 'cause I thought you were cool."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
Mike's face split into a grin, as did Tre's. The two stood looking shyly at each other until Billie beeped his car horn and bellowed, "HURRY IT THE FUCK UP, DIRNT!"
"Right. I gotta go." Mike hurried towards the car, but Tre's voice stopped him again.
"Hey, are you busy tomorrow?"
Mike whipped around. "Uh, you mean on Valentine's Day?"
Tre looked down, embarrassed. "Oh, right. I shoulda figured you had a date. Nevermind."
"No, no!" Mike called out, grinning. "No. I, uh, I'd like to do something."
Tre smiled. "Okay. How about dinner?"
Mike cocked an eyebrow. "With you or Vlad?"
Tre strode up to him and surprised him yet again with a peck on the lips. "What's the difference?" he asked brightly, and then walked away, leaving Mike in a state of shock that he doubted would ever fade. At least, not as long as Tre was around.
Author's Note: Comments are appreciated!
Author's Note: Okay, so yes, it's a little late. I started this last year, and then just kinda forgot about it. I finished it on time - I really did - but thanks to a whole slew of difficulties the past couple days, I haven't been able to post.
As with just about everything, I took some artistic liberties. Pretty small liberties, though, like how Mike and Tre would've known each other from a local band hang out anyway, and Billie would've known Tre as well, but they never really spoke (Tre was younger and in a different band).
Name: February Thirteenth
Pairing: Tre/Mike (Green Day)
Genre: Humor/Romance
Rating: PG-13
It wasn't because of the flowers. It wasn't because of the chocolate. It wasn't even because of the idiots making out in every movie theater he went into. It was because none of Mike's relationships ever seemed to last until February 14th. For the past three years, every person he'd gone out with broke up with him before that magical day of love and lust. Two of them even dumped him on February 13th.
"Don't worry about it, man," Billie had told him, lighting up a cigarette. "You should count yourself lucky. Valentine's Day sucks, everything about it. Hell, its initials are VD. Trust me, you're better off where you are now - nothing good can come of a crappy Hallmark holiday.
That was all well and good, Mike thought, but Billie really hadn't a clue what Mike went through every year. After all, Billie always had 80 to cuddle, snuggle, and fuck every year. At nineteen, Mike considered himself lucky to get a pity kiss on the cheek.
"Just once, man," Mike said as he stood by Billie in a flower shop on February 13th. "Just once, I'd like to manage a date on February 14th."
"I don't get you," Billie replied, digging through his pockets for his wallet. "Only, like, 2% of guys actually like the romantic stuff. Most of them just want to fuck."
"No kidding," Mike snapped. "Every guy I've gone out with says I'm out of my mind when I buy him chocolate or whatever."
"Let's not forget that you gave one of your dates an asthma attack when you gave him flowers," Billie snickered. "Remember that?"
"No, I don't seem to recollect," Mike sneered. "No shit, I fucking remember it. It was the only time I took someone to the hospital that wasn't you."
"Don't say it like that!" Billie said indignantly. "It's not like I've never had to take you to the ER. Remember that thing with the peanut?"
"I'm still amazed it could fit up there. I would've left it there as a trophy if I could've."
"Why couldn't you?"
"Firstly, it hurt like hell. Secondly, have you ever tried to pee around a peanut? It's not as easy as one might suspect."
"Good point. But, as we were saying. Valentine's Day is a major bust, man. Do you know how much money I've already spent on 80? The woman's driving me into the ground." Billie raised his voice to high, squealy pitch. "'Billie, get me flowers! Billie, let's go to a nice restaurant! Billie, get me candy! Billie, give me your balls in a jar and let me keep them above my mantelpiece so I can use your masculinity as my personal trophy!' Why the hell would you WANT to spend all this on someone?"
"It's not that I want to spend money," Mike replied, fiddling with a rose. "It's that I want someone to spend money on."
"Well, if that's all," Billie grinned, "you can buy me some candy when we leave."
Mike slapped him upside the head. "Nice shot, fatass, but no way am I shelling out money so I can make you obese."
Billie stuck his tongue out and began rooting around in his wallet to pay for 80's flowers. "This is a Goddamn robbery," he grumbled. "I can't believe it. Six fucking bucks for a fucking rose. I could get the damn things from my neighbor's garden for free."
"Hey, at least you've got someone to buy roses for."
"Oh, for the love of God! Will you stop your bitching? Christ. You get so fucking annoying this time of year. If you're gonna piss and moan, at least do it somewhere where I can't fucking hear you."
"Like where, asshole? We practically fucking live together. My house is right across the street. No matter where I am or what I say, you're gonna bitch about it, because you want me to listen to all your damn problems and keep mine all in my fucking head! What kind of friendship is that?"
Billie got in his car and slammed the door. "The kind that's making you walk your sorry emo ass home." And he took off, sticking his middle finger out the window for emphasis.
Mike trudged slowly through the park, trying to remember how to get back to his house. He wasn't used to this part of town. He tripped over something lying on the ground. Both Mike and the something yelped as Mike swayed, trying to regain balance.
When both of Mike's feet were safely back on the ground, he looked down. A round-faced teenager looked up at him, grinning almost maniacally. "Vhy, hello," the boy said in a thick Russian accent.
Mike stared. The guy's blue eyes were huge and round, making him look like a choirboy on crack. His bleached blonde hair was swept back limply, and his huge smile seemed to radiate joy and heaping helping of crazy.
"Uh, hey," Mike greeted him. He held out a hand nervously. "I'm sorry. Um, did I knock you over?"
"No," the boy replied, still grinning. "No, I vas already doing the lying of the ground." He hopped up, surprisingly limber for such a short, stocky guy. "And who is it that you are, my Comrade?"
Mike glanced around, wondering if he had somehow made it on Candid Camera and this was all some weird prank that Billie was going to laugh his ass off at later. "Er... I'm Mike," he finally said.
The guy grabbed Mike's hand and shook it ecstatically. "I'm Vlad, Vlad Pertuzky. Nice to be doing the meeting of you."
Mike gave a slightly half-nod, unable to stop staring. Something about Vlad was extremely endearing, something cute and playful and yet kind of disturbing. He didn't want to say it, but it popped out before he could stop it.
"You on drugs?"
Vlad tilted his head, then laughed. "No! I haven't done the smoking of the druggy-drug for a vhile now. Too expensitive, no?"
"Yeah, it is kinda tough on the wallet," Mike admitted with a laugh. "Not that I do it," he added quickly.
At Vlad's raised eyebrows (well, more wiggling eyebrows), Mike smiled sheepishly. "Well, okay, yeah, I do."
They walked around the park, talking, and Mike found himself growing more and more endeared to the goofy smile and wide eyes on Vlad's angelic face. He only hoped that Vlad would leave before he realized what a loser Mike actually was.
"So," Vlad said suddenly, "do you have anyone for the Valentiney Day?"
Too late. Mike was a loser.
"Uh... No," he mumbled. "But that's how I like it," he added quickly. He waved a hand at Vlad's disbelieving look. "Really. I mean, my pal, Billie, he's got a girlfriend - she's great, don't get me wrong - but she empties his wallet out every other day. Who wants to be broke all the time, you know?"
Vlad's eyes flashed and, if Mike hadn't known better, he would've thought that a look of disappointment had darted across Vlad's cheerful face. "Vell, but it's not all bad, vith the kissing and the hugging and the making of love." At the last one, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and nudged Mike's ribs. Mike's palms were sweating.
"Well... Yeah, that's true," Mike replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess things have just never worked out for me in that department."
"In vhat department?"
"Love. Romantic stuff." Mike shook his head. "It's not like I don't try. I just keep messing it up, that's all."
Vlad looked thoughtful. Then his eyes widened, excited. "Vhat is it that you are doing the trying of? Maybe I can be helping you!"
Mike glanced over at him. "What? Uh, no. I don't think so, sorry."
Vlad's face contorted into a pout. "Vhy not?" he demanded, slugging Mike lightly on the shoulder. "I vant to help."
Before Mike could answer, Vlad had looped his arm through Mike's. "Let's do the pretending," he chipred, laying his head on Mike's shoulder. "Show me how you vould treat me if I vas lady friend."
At Mike's suddent rigidity, Vlad raised an eyebrow. "Or is it man friend?"
Mike cleared his throat, his cheeks hot and his chest freezing cold. "Y-Yeah. That one."
Vlad grinned. "Okies dokies, that makes this much easier." He leaned in confidentially. "I likes having man friends, too."
"Uh... Nice." Dammit, Mike, you loser, stop talking! Just leave already!
But no. Mike simply wouldn't listen to that tiny little voice in his head. Instead, he reveled in the warmth of Vlad's body right next to his and played along.
"Now, for the romanticy conversation." Vlad cleared his throat and straighted up. "Tell me that I have nice eyes."
Mike looked into Vlad's wide blue eyes and smiled. "You have beautiful eyes." It wasn't an act, it was the truth.
Vlad smiled and pretended to blush, girlishly fanning himself. "You're so flattering!" he giggled ridiculously. Mike couldn't help but laugh along.
"Now." Vlad stepped in front of Mike, striking a Superman, hands-on-hips pose. "Pretend that you are dropping me off after date."
Mike gulped. "W-What do you mean? Like..."
"Like pretend this tree is door," Vlad explained, slapping the tree. "My door. This is end of date. Ve are standing at door. Vhat do you do?"
"Well..." Mike wiped his wet palms on his jeans. "Did we have a good time?"
"Ve had a vonderful dinner at the Olive Garden, followed by a long valk on the pier. It vas very romantic." Vlad locked his hands behind his back and grinned playfuly. There was something in his eyes, something that made Mike even more nervous. Vlad moved closer and nudged against Mike's chest, who felt as though his stomach was twisted like a pretzel. "I had a very good time," Vlad said in a falsetto, fluttering his eyelashes.
"Yeah, me too," Mike said, smiling and giving a tiny, breathless laugh. He was only inches away from Vlad, staring into those big baby blues, falling into those oceanic orbs...
"Vell?" Vlad whispered. His smiled was gone, replaced by something serious, something different, something...
Mike's heart did a somersault when his lips touched Vlad's. The park, the tree beside them, the ever-present loneliness all seemed to melt away into that touch. Every nerve on his body was doubly sensitive, feeling every twitch of movement, feeling the arms wrapping around his shoulders, feeling his hands take on a life of their own and slide down the sides of the man in his arms...
"Aw, Mike, what the fuck?"
The world snapped back into focus. Mike jerked away, whipping around to see Billie striding towards him with a smirk. "You bitch and moan about not having anyone, and then I come here to see you, making out with..." He stopped dead. "Tre?"
Vlad leaned around Mike, his face lighting up. "Oh, hey, Billie!" Every trace of an accent was gone from his voice. "What's up?"
Mike stared. "Wait... What?"
Billie walked over and yanked Vlad away from Mike, grumbling, "Jesus, man."
"Wait, wait." Mike pointed at Vlad, bewildered. "What did you call him?"
"Tre. That's his name." Billie slapped a still-grinning Vlad (or, really, Tre) upside the head. "What did you do to him? Did you mess with his head?"
Tre widened his eyes in mock surprise. "Who, me? Never!"
Billie sighed. He turned back to Mike. "Mike Pritchard, mee Tre Cool. He's a drummer. You remember that little kid from The Lookouts?"
"Oh yeah, I remember you now!" Tre exclaimed, grabbing Mike's hand and giving it a vigorous shake. "The bass player in Sweet Children! Nice to meet ya!"
"Yeah... You too..." Mike felt his face go warm. Dammit. He finally thinks he found a guy, and he wasn't even real?
"Man, 80 said you were kind of a little jerk," Billie muttered to Tre, "but I never woulda pegged you as the type to jerk some poor dude around."
"Who did I jerk around?" This time, Tre looked earnest. He knit is eyebrows together in a frown. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you shouldn't go giving some poor guy with no self-esteem and no one to love him false hope." Billie gave Mike a tap on the shoulder. "Come on, man, let's go. I've got things to do besides save you from your romantic misery."
"Yeah." Mike tried to stifle his humiliation enough for Billie not to see it. "Yeah, I'm coming."
It wasn't until Mike was halway to the car that he heard, "Wait." He turned to see Tre trotting up, looking worried. It was an expression Mike had never thought he'd see on such a bright, careless person. He grabbed onto Mike's wrist, obviously worried that he wouldn't stay to hear him out.
"What's up?" Billie called from his car, exasperated.
"Just hold on a sec," Mike yelled back. He looked sideways at Tre. He was desperate to not look as hurt and miserable as he felt. "Yeah? What is it?"
"You didn't..." Tre was panting a little from the short run. "You didn't really think I was just fucking around with you, did you?"
Mike just shrugged. "Why wouldn't you? That's what everybody else does."
Mike was shocked to see Tre blush. "Yeah, well, I don't know about everybody else," he mumbled, "but I meant it. The only reason I talked to you in the first place was 'cause I thought you were cool."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
Mike's face split into a grin, as did Tre's. The two stood looking shyly at each other until Billie beeped his car horn and bellowed, "HURRY IT THE FUCK UP, DIRNT!"
"Right. I gotta go." Mike hurried towards the car, but Tre's voice stopped him again.
"Hey, are you busy tomorrow?"
Mike whipped around. "Uh, you mean on Valentine's Day?"
Tre looked down, embarrassed. "Oh, right. I shoulda figured you had a date. Nevermind."
"No, no!" Mike called out, grinning. "No. I, uh, I'd like to do something."
Tre smiled. "Okay. How about dinner?"
Mike cocked an eyebrow. "With you or Vlad?"
Tre strode up to him and surprised him yet again with a peck on the lips. "What's the difference?" he asked brightly, and then walked away, leaving Mike in a state of shock that he doubted would ever fade. At least, not as long as Tre was around.
Author's Note: Comments are appreciated!
Friday, February 6, 2009
High On Infinity, Chapter Five
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fall Out Boy.
Author's Note: SO. I recently was part of an event that totally changed my life and I'm still coming down from how frigging awesome it was. It's hard to believe that I'm friends with people I constantly fought with or didn't like, that I'm hugging people that I never would have spoken to without this event. I advise you all to get your 12 hugs a day (yes, that's actually the recommended amount - 3 minimum!), and enjoy the next part of the story.
But remember - this part is SMUT. Pure SMUT. A lotta sex and stuff. So if you aren't fond of porn, don't read this part. (You can understand the story just fine without reading this, don't worry.)
Name: High On Infinity
Pairing: Patrick/Pete (Fall Out Boy)
Genre: Humor, Romance
Rating: R
Chapter Five
It wasn’t long before we were undressed on my couch, with my head in Pete’s lap, licking up his manhood and hardly believing that this was happening.
Pete panted hard as I licked precum off the tip. “Patrick…” He groaned so loud that I was afraid the neighbors might hear. “Jesus Pat…” He ran his hands through my hair. “How many times have you done this?”
“Not as many as you’d think,” I said before taking all of him down my throat. He gasped, and I nearly gagged as he thrust lightly upward. I was kind of out of practice, and Pete was certainly not small. I gently licked at him before sitting up and kissing my way up his chest to his neck, finally resting on his lips. His eyes were heavy and dark with lust, and the idea that I had put that look on his face and that breathless catch in his voice turned me on more than anything ever had.
Pete pushed me onto my back, parting my knees and sliding between my legs. I gasped when I felt Pete’s erection nudge me. He nibbled at my neck, and it was my turn to moan obscenely loud. Pete smiled against my skin. “Do you like that?”
“God, yes.” I bit my lip when I felt Pete’s hand on my shaft. “Oh, fuck, Pete, fuck fuck fuck…” His movements were rough and rapid, better than I’d felt it a long time, hell, better than I’d ever felt, and as his hand quickened so did my breathing, and he was biting into my shoulder so hard I bled, and I cried out…
Pete moved his hand away, and I gave a tiny murmur of protest. Pete licked at the mark he’d left on my shoulder and laced the fingers of his left hand with mine, holding our intertwined fingers above my head. He grabbed at his jeans, pulling out a small tube from his pocket. I closed my eyes before I felt a finger, slick with something cold, slip into my body. I gasped.
“Does it hurt?” Pete breathed in my ear.
“N-No…” I shifted slightly. “No, it’s good, it’s really, really good.”
He added another finger and I squeaked quietly, feeling a slightly pain shoot from my hips through my neck. “Pat?” Pete sounded nervous.
“It’s okay,” I reassured him, grabbing onto his shoulders.
Pete gulped. “You’re really tight,” he whispered, his voice shaking with excitement.
“It’s been awhile,” I blushed. Pete smiled and put our foreheads together.
“I’ll make it worth it, trust me,” he muttered, and I felt the thin, cool fingers replaced by something much larger and hotter.
Pete moaned slowly and quietly as he pushed deeper and deeper into me, inch by inch. He kept his eyes locked on mine, making sure I wasn’t in too much pain. I nodded him on after a few moments, and he slowly pulled out and thrust back in.
It didn’t take long for me to get comfortable. His cock going in an out of me made my breathing quicken and my heart race. I began rocking with him, raising my hips to meet him. Every pump brought a fresh shot of pain, but a good kind, the kind that made me moan and hold onto Pete with everything I had.
“Oh, Patrick,” Pete said softly, lovingly, and I could feel my body tingle with the emotions in his voice. “God, you feel so good inside…”
I could only whisper, “Harder.”
He stopped for a second, looking worried. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I murmured, placing a tiny kiss on those perfect lips. “I’ve been waiting too long.” I lifted my hips, giving him better access.
Pete kissed up my jaw to my sideburns – how he knew what that would do to me, I didn’t know – and he gradually sped up, his hips moving gracefully, like waves lapping at the shore. His tense muscles, shadowy eyes, and sticky skin made him the absolute sexiest thing I had seen in my life. “Turn over,” he commanded.
I obeyed, enjoying the feeling of being bossed around. Pete was getting fast and rough – his cock was swollen to an achingly perfect size, and my own was slightly pained from the need to cum. He slammed into me over and over, panting at my shoulder, his heartbeat matching mine. Every one of my nerve endings was alight, my whole body burned…
Pete hit the spot within me that made me moan in pleasure. “Oh, God, there, again, please…” I didn’t care that it didn’t make sense. He was going so fast, hitting my prostate over and over again, and he was thrusting so hard…
Pete ran his tongue over my spine, and I couldn’t control myself. With a burst of light before my eyes and groan of Pete’s name, I came hard, my body tightening. Pete followed almost immediately after, crying out and rocking with me until we were both completely spent. I collapsed to the couch, trembling, and Pete fell next to me, trying to slow his breathing.
Author's Note: Please review!
Author's Note: SO. I recently was part of an event that totally changed my life and I'm still coming down from how frigging awesome it was. It's hard to believe that I'm friends with people I constantly fought with or didn't like, that I'm hugging people that I never would have spoken to without this event. I advise you all to get your 12 hugs a day (yes, that's actually the recommended amount - 3 minimum!), and enjoy the next part of the story.
But remember - this part is SMUT. Pure SMUT. A lotta sex and stuff. So if you aren't fond of porn, don't read this part. (You can understand the story just fine without reading this, don't worry.)
Name: High On Infinity
Pairing: Patrick/Pete (Fall Out Boy)
Genre: Humor, Romance
Rating: R
Chapter Five
It wasn’t long before we were undressed on my couch, with my head in Pete’s lap, licking up his manhood and hardly believing that this was happening.
Pete panted hard as I licked precum off the tip. “Patrick…” He groaned so loud that I was afraid the neighbors might hear. “Jesus Pat…” He ran his hands through my hair. “How many times have you done this?”
“Not as many as you’d think,” I said before taking all of him down my throat. He gasped, and I nearly gagged as he thrust lightly upward. I was kind of out of practice, and Pete was certainly not small. I gently licked at him before sitting up and kissing my way up his chest to his neck, finally resting on his lips. His eyes were heavy and dark with lust, and the idea that I had put that look on his face and that breathless catch in his voice turned me on more than anything ever had.
Pete pushed me onto my back, parting my knees and sliding between my legs. I gasped when I felt Pete’s erection nudge me. He nibbled at my neck, and it was my turn to moan obscenely loud. Pete smiled against my skin. “Do you like that?”
“God, yes.” I bit my lip when I felt Pete’s hand on my shaft. “Oh, fuck, Pete, fuck fuck fuck…” His movements were rough and rapid, better than I’d felt it a long time, hell, better than I’d ever felt, and as his hand quickened so did my breathing, and he was biting into my shoulder so hard I bled, and I cried out…
Pete moved his hand away, and I gave a tiny murmur of protest. Pete licked at the mark he’d left on my shoulder and laced the fingers of his left hand with mine, holding our intertwined fingers above my head. He grabbed at his jeans, pulling out a small tube from his pocket. I closed my eyes before I felt a finger, slick with something cold, slip into my body. I gasped.
“Does it hurt?” Pete breathed in my ear.
“N-No…” I shifted slightly. “No, it’s good, it’s really, really good.”
He added another finger and I squeaked quietly, feeling a slightly pain shoot from my hips through my neck. “Pat?” Pete sounded nervous.
“It’s okay,” I reassured him, grabbing onto his shoulders.
Pete gulped. “You’re really tight,” he whispered, his voice shaking with excitement.
“It’s been awhile,” I blushed. Pete smiled and put our foreheads together.
“I’ll make it worth it, trust me,” he muttered, and I felt the thin, cool fingers replaced by something much larger and hotter.
Pete moaned slowly and quietly as he pushed deeper and deeper into me, inch by inch. He kept his eyes locked on mine, making sure I wasn’t in too much pain. I nodded him on after a few moments, and he slowly pulled out and thrust back in.
It didn’t take long for me to get comfortable. His cock going in an out of me made my breathing quicken and my heart race. I began rocking with him, raising my hips to meet him. Every pump brought a fresh shot of pain, but a good kind, the kind that made me moan and hold onto Pete with everything I had.
“Oh, Patrick,” Pete said softly, lovingly, and I could feel my body tingle with the emotions in his voice. “God, you feel so good inside…”
I could only whisper, “Harder.”
He stopped for a second, looking worried. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I murmured, placing a tiny kiss on those perfect lips. “I’ve been waiting too long.” I lifted my hips, giving him better access.
Pete kissed up my jaw to my sideburns – how he knew what that would do to me, I didn’t know – and he gradually sped up, his hips moving gracefully, like waves lapping at the shore. His tense muscles, shadowy eyes, and sticky skin made him the absolute sexiest thing I had seen in my life. “Turn over,” he commanded.
I obeyed, enjoying the feeling of being bossed around. Pete was getting fast and rough – his cock was swollen to an achingly perfect size, and my own was slightly pained from the need to cum. He slammed into me over and over, panting at my shoulder, his heartbeat matching mine. Every one of my nerve endings was alight, my whole body burned…
Pete hit the spot within me that made me moan in pleasure. “Oh, God, there, again, please…” I didn’t care that it didn’t make sense. He was going so fast, hitting my prostate over and over again, and he was thrusting so hard…
Pete ran his tongue over my spine, and I couldn’t control myself. With a burst of light before my eyes and groan of Pete’s name, I came hard, my body tightening. Pete followed almost immediately after, crying out and rocking with me until we were both completely spent. I collapsed to the couch, trembling, and Pete fell next to me, trying to slow his breathing.
Author's Note: Please review!
Friday, January 30, 2009
High On Infinity, Chapter Four
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fall Out Boy.
Author's Note: So in this chapter, things really start to happen.
Things have not been all that great. Actually, they've been really shitty. A kid from my area died recently, as have a lot of other people (none of whom I knew very well, just people I've been hearing about a lot), so death has been in the picture quite often as of late. It's not that MY life is tough right now - I didn't really know any of the deceased closely - but more that a lot of other people are in pain, and it's just been one of those things that has affected everyone in some way.
Oh, and just a side note to you assholes that think joking about death is funny: it's not. Someday you're gonna lose somebody close to you, and you'll want people to be respectful to you. Just because you aren't in pain right now, that doesn't mean you can be a douche to the people who are. Show some goddamn respect, you pricks.
Name: High On Infinity
Pairing: Patrick/Pete (Fall Out Boy)
Genre: Humor, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Four
If there was someone I had been expecting to be ringing my doorbell at two o’clock in the morning, it sure as hell wasn’t Pete.
“Pete?” I rubbed my eyes. I’d only fallen asleep ten minutes before. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you home?”
“You said you wanted a love song,” he explained. He was panting. I looked around him to see a bike lying on my lawn. I pointed at it, and he waved my hand away. “Ashlee would’ve heard the car.”
“So you biked here?” I asked incredulously. “That must’ve taken like half an hour! Why are you here, anyway?”
“You said you wanted a love song,” he repeated. He tossed something at my feet. I looked down to see all four of our band’s CDs lying on the floor. “Well, there it is.”
I stared. “Um… There what is?” I asked stupidly. I’m fucking retarded. He had just thrown all of his feelings at me – literally – and I didn’t get it.
“There’s your damn love song,” Pete replied, suddenly bold. He grabbed a CD and held it up to me. “Every goddamned song, every single one… You always asked, and I always lied, because I knew that there was no fucking way you would ever want me, okay?”
My mouth almost fell open. I put my hands behind my back and pinched myself. No way was this really happening…
Pete kept going, possessed by years of silence. “Jesus, Patrick, I can’t believe you didn’t see it. Every time I wrote something, I thought of you. Every time I heard you talking about my wife…” He shook his head desperately. “I couldn’t stand it. I knew you were right about it all. I should have been with you, but no. She was there. I had to think of you every time I said ‘I love you’ to her just so it wouldn’t be a lie.” He grabbed my shoulders, looking into my eyes with a beautiful kind of pain. “I love you. More than I could ever say.” He looked down at the CDs. “These… They’re just not enough to explain it. I keep trying with every song, but it never works.”
I couldn’t say a word. I was still stuck in the thought that this had to be a dream. How could Pete Wentz really be on my doorstep, saying that he loved me? The fantasies I’d been having since college were suddenly a reality.
All I could say was, “Why?”
That threw him. “Huh?” Everything poetic seemed to drop out of the situation. He blinked. “W-What?”
“Why?” I asked again, wanting to smack myself. Shut the fuck up, you retard! Take whatever you can get! “Why the hell would you be in love with me?”
“I…” Pete looked around. “I… Are you seriously asking me this?”
“Yes, I’m seriously asking you!” I snapped. “If you can’t tell me why, then why would you tell me you love me in the first place?”
Pete, to my surprise, blushed. “It’s just…” He looked shyly at me. “You have to promise you won’t laugh.”
I couldn’t have come up with a less funny situation if I tried. I promised him.
Pete brushed his fingers across my cheek, and I shivered. “You’re so generous,” he said quietly, soothingly. “With everything. You’d give anything to make someone else happy.” His fingers made their way from my sideburn to my chin. “You’re always willing to help people, even the ones you don’t like.” His fingers slipped to the high collar of my jacket. “You’re so polite, so gentle, so innocently kind…” He snapped open the first button. My skin went hot, and my stomach turned in fluttering knots. “Your voice, your smile, your laugh…” He seemed overcome, his voice growing husky. He leaned in and kissed me gently. His lips were soft and fit against mine like a puzzle piece.
This was definitely real.
God wouldn’t be cruel enough to taunt me with a dream like this.
I kissed him back, soft and nervous. My hand shook as I reached it up to run through his silky dark hair. His tongue found mine, and he groaned passionately, a sound that I never thought I would hear, especially not directed towards me…
Pete lightly threw my hat aside and kicked the door closed. He pushed my back against it, his movements still slow and deliberate. He clicked open the buttons on my jacket. My hands were already under his shirt, ghosting over the tough stomach and perfect chest. I moaned in spite of my attempts not to look desperate. I hadn’t had sex in close to two years, and this was Pete. I don’t think I could get more desperate.
I felt his fingers begin to pull up my shirt, and I froze. He pulled away, concerned. “What?” he whispered.
“I…” My face must have been bright pink. “I’m a little… I’m… Kind of… Uncomfortable with my weight.”
Pete’s eyes softened, and he gave a small, breathy laugh. “Is that what you’re so scared about?”
I looked down at my feet. Pete nudged my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Pat,” he said seriously. “I know what you look like, okay? You’re perfect.” He kissed me again. “I love you.”
My throat constricted, and, for some strange reason, I wanted to cry. “I love you too,” I muttered shakily. I kissed him more deeply. “Ever since I met you, I’ve loved you. I was always so scared to tell you…”
Pete gave me a miserable look. “I wish one of us would have said something,” he whispered. “Think of all the hurt we could’ve avoided.”
I bit my lip guiltily. Pete slipped his hands under my shirt again, kissing my neck. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re together now.”
Those words ignited a fire in us both. We kissed with renewed passion, becoming more and more fervent. I pulled Pete’s shirt off, then my own, not caring how I looked anymore. He pressed himself against me hungrily as I hurried to undue his belt. He slid down my body and used his teeth to unbutton and unzip my jeans. It wasn’t long before we were making love on my couch.
Author's Note: The next chapter will be very, very smutty (it was originally all one chapter, but I chopped it up so that people could ignore the sex if they wanted). You've been warned - please read and review!
Author's Note: So in this chapter, things really start to happen.
Things have not been all that great. Actually, they've been really shitty. A kid from my area died recently, as have a lot of other people (none of whom I knew very well, just people I've been hearing about a lot), so death has been in the picture quite often as of late. It's not that MY life is tough right now - I didn't really know any of the deceased closely - but more that a lot of other people are in pain, and it's just been one of those things that has affected everyone in some way.
Oh, and just a side note to you assholes that think joking about death is funny: it's not. Someday you're gonna lose somebody close to you, and you'll want people to be respectful to you. Just because you aren't in pain right now, that doesn't mean you can be a douche to the people who are. Show some goddamn respect, you pricks.
Name: High On Infinity
Pairing: Patrick/Pete (Fall Out Boy)
Genre: Humor, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Four
If there was someone I had been expecting to be ringing my doorbell at two o’clock in the morning, it sure as hell wasn’t Pete.
“Pete?” I rubbed my eyes. I’d only fallen asleep ten minutes before. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you home?”
“You said you wanted a love song,” he explained. He was panting. I looked around him to see a bike lying on my lawn. I pointed at it, and he waved my hand away. “Ashlee would’ve heard the car.”
“So you biked here?” I asked incredulously. “That must’ve taken like half an hour! Why are you here, anyway?”
“You said you wanted a love song,” he repeated. He tossed something at my feet. I looked down to see all four of our band’s CDs lying on the floor. “Well, there it is.”
I stared. “Um… There what is?” I asked stupidly. I’m fucking retarded. He had just thrown all of his feelings at me – literally – and I didn’t get it.
“There’s your damn love song,” Pete replied, suddenly bold. He grabbed a CD and held it up to me. “Every goddamned song, every single one… You always asked, and I always lied, because I knew that there was no fucking way you would ever want me, okay?”
My mouth almost fell open. I put my hands behind my back and pinched myself. No way was this really happening…
Pete kept going, possessed by years of silence. “Jesus, Patrick, I can’t believe you didn’t see it. Every time I wrote something, I thought of you. Every time I heard you talking about my wife…” He shook his head desperately. “I couldn’t stand it. I knew you were right about it all. I should have been with you, but no. She was there. I had to think of you every time I said ‘I love you’ to her just so it wouldn’t be a lie.” He grabbed my shoulders, looking into my eyes with a beautiful kind of pain. “I love you. More than I could ever say.” He looked down at the CDs. “These… They’re just not enough to explain it. I keep trying with every song, but it never works.”
I couldn’t say a word. I was still stuck in the thought that this had to be a dream. How could Pete Wentz really be on my doorstep, saying that he loved me? The fantasies I’d been having since college were suddenly a reality.
All I could say was, “Why?”
That threw him. “Huh?” Everything poetic seemed to drop out of the situation. He blinked. “W-What?”
“Why?” I asked again, wanting to smack myself. Shut the fuck up, you retard! Take whatever you can get! “Why the hell would you be in love with me?”
“I…” Pete looked around. “I… Are you seriously asking me this?”
“Yes, I’m seriously asking you!” I snapped. “If you can’t tell me why, then why would you tell me you love me in the first place?”
Pete, to my surprise, blushed. “It’s just…” He looked shyly at me. “You have to promise you won’t laugh.”
I couldn’t have come up with a less funny situation if I tried. I promised him.
Pete brushed his fingers across my cheek, and I shivered. “You’re so generous,” he said quietly, soothingly. “With everything. You’d give anything to make someone else happy.” His fingers made their way from my sideburn to my chin. “You’re always willing to help people, even the ones you don’t like.” His fingers slipped to the high collar of my jacket. “You’re so polite, so gentle, so innocently kind…” He snapped open the first button. My skin went hot, and my stomach turned in fluttering knots. “Your voice, your smile, your laugh…” He seemed overcome, his voice growing husky. He leaned in and kissed me gently. His lips were soft and fit against mine like a puzzle piece.
This was definitely real.
God wouldn’t be cruel enough to taunt me with a dream like this.
I kissed him back, soft and nervous. My hand shook as I reached it up to run through his silky dark hair. His tongue found mine, and he groaned passionately, a sound that I never thought I would hear, especially not directed towards me…
Pete lightly threw my hat aside and kicked the door closed. He pushed my back against it, his movements still slow and deliberate. He clicked open the buttons on my jacket. My hands were already under his shirt, ghosting over the tough stomach and perfect chest. I moaned in spite of my attempts not to look desperate. I hadn’t had sex in close to two years, and this was Pete. I don’t think I could get more desperate.
I felt his fingers begin to pull up my shirt, and I froze. He pulled away, concerned. “What?” he whispered.
“I…” My face must have been bright pink. “I’m a little… I’m… Kind of… Uncomfortable with my weight.”
Pete’s eyes softened, and he gave a small, breathy laugh. “Is that what you’re so scared about?”
I looked down at my feet. Pete nudged my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Pat,” he said seriously. “I know what you look like, okay? You’re perfect.” He kissed me again. “I love you.”
My throat constricted, and, for some strange reason, I wanted to cry. “I love you too,” I muttered shakily. I kissed him more deeply. “Ever since I met you, I’ve loved you. I was always so scared to tell you…”
Pete gave me a miserable look. “I wish one of us would have said something,” he whispered. “Think of all the hurt we could’ve avoided.”
I bit my lip guiltily. Pete slipped his hands under my shirt again, kissing my neck. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re together now.”
Those words ignited a fire in us both. We kissed with renewed passion, becoming more and more fervent. I pulled Pete’s shirt off, then my own, not caring how I looked anymore. He pressed himself against me hungrily as I hurried to undue his belt. He slid down my body and used his teeth to unbutton and unzip my jeans. It wasn’t long before we were making love on my couch.
Author's Note: The next chapter will be very, very smutty (it was originally all one chapter, but I chopped it up so that people could ignore the sex if they wanted). You've been warned - please read and review!
Monday, January 19, 2009
High On Infinity, Chapter Three
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fall Out Boy.
Author's Note: This chapter was kind of an asshole to me when I was putting it on Ficwad. I had to upload it four fucking times. Still, I found this chapter to be my favorite. And no - I don't know what a screw to the urethra would do to the human body, but I'll be damned if I'm not amused by the idea. The last three chapters were originally only one chapter, but I've decided that it's only fair to separate the smut from the rest of the story. That way, you can cut it out if it's not your cup of tea.
Name: High On Infinity
Pairing: Patrick/Pete (Fall Out Boy)
Genre: Humor, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Three
The lights were blinding. We were playing a small charity gig, nothing impressive, but the auditorium we were in was lit up like a joint on 4-20. All I could feel were guitar strings under my fingertips, my mouth forming the words “dance, dance” and Pete’s head resting gently on my shoulder. I felt the last one most of all. It was enough to make a guy forget the words to a song he’d played a hundred times before.
Fortunately, that didn’t happen.
I always marveled at the way Pete did that. It never fails – every show, he winds up at my shoulder, his sweat-soaked hair brushing my neck. I wonder if the crowd ever saw an enamored expression on my face, because “enamored” is the only way to describe the feelings that any contact with Pete brought up. He was more than a friend, or a band mate, or a crush – he was the personification of everything right with the world.
As I began to play “Hum Hallelujah,” I thought about how much I hated the song. Not because it was poorly written – the words were just as beautiful as any others I had seen come from Pete’s pen. It wasn’t even the heartbroken tone of the song. It was what it stood for more than anything else.
As with all of Pete’s songs, I asked what it meant. Who was it for? Why was it written? Was it autobiographical, or general, just a few words scratched out about a feeling once felt put not pinpointed, known but not identified?
“I wrote it a long time ago, when Ashlee said she didn’t want to get married,” he answered, fiddling with his wedding band. “I was bitter.” He smiled at me. “I guess I have to take it back now, though, don’t I?”
I didn’t want him to take it back. I wanted him to remember it, keep it in his heart, let it fester, and then let it rot their relationship from the inside out.
I never said I wasn’t vindictive.
The words “sometimes we take pills” never failed to put a shudder through me. I knew Pete felt it as we played, and he glanced questioningly up at me. I tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, but I couldn’t help it.
When Pete had tried to kill himself, that day became the worst of my life. I got the call from him, and I felt so Goddamn far away, so helpless. I couldn’t be there with him. I couldn’t save him, I couldn’t even try. That was someone else’s job.
But it was supposed to be my job.
After that day, nothing could faze me. I still don’t know if that was good or bad. I barely felt it when my dad hung up after hearing me admit that I like guys. I think it would have hurt worse to have my mom not send me a Christmas card like she always did had I not gone through what I had.
How can anything compare to almost losing the person you love more than your own life?
I found my voice shaking, and I tried to steady it. It was a challenge just to keep my breath from catching on tears I’d forgotten I’d had. Something about the adrenaline, the heat, and the beating heart of the love of my life next to me had flipped a switch.
We went off the stage to screams of happiness, but I was shaking. What the hell is wrong with me? I thought.
But when I saw Ashlee and baby Bronx, I realized it.
It was their job to save him from now on.
That opportunity would never be mine.
“Hey, my big bad rock star!” Ashlee cooed, kissing Pete in a way that made it look like she was trying to scoop his tongue out of his mouth with her own. Joe cast me a look as he packed up his guitar. I kept my eyes on my own guitar case.
“There’s my two favorite girls,” Pete said when he finally came up for air. Andy and I exchanged glances that said, “Well, no shit.”
“Pete, we’re going out for a drink. Wanna come?” Andy was checking his stupid watch again. I tossed a shirt at him.
“If we’re going to a bar, you’re gonna want to be fully dressed.” I stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. “Especially if we’re going to the kind of bar that makes appletinis.”
“Hey, shut the fuck up,” Andy snapped, pulling on the shirt. “They’re a good drink.”
Joe just laughed. “Sometimes I think you’re gayer than Pat.”
Andy shrugged. “I think most people are gayer than Pat. Pat’s just not very gay.”
Joe nodded. “Not very gay at all.”
“A terrible excuse for a homosexual,” Andy added.
“Truly the straightest of the gays.” Joe shook me slightly. I rolled my eyes.
“There’s just nothing gay about Pat,” Andy concluded.
Pete laughed. “You mean except the ‘having sex with guys’ thing?”
“To them, that’s a minor detail,” I reminded him. “So, are you coming with us or not?”
Ashlee was shooting him a dangerously bitchy look, but Pete shrugged. “Yeah, sure. We haven’t done anything in a while.”
“Two and a half weeks.” Andy checked his watch (which also had the date, moon cycle, and a calculator). “And even then you picked up a couple pizzas and left.”
Ashlee turned on her heel and stormed out, angry, I’m sure, that she wasn’t the center of attention. It didn’t matter – Pete was coming with us, and that’s all that any of us cared about.
The bar that we went to was one that we had discovered in college, not long after we began playing together. It was pretty much a gay bar – most of the patrons were gay – but it had nothing to do with leather or sex, like the kind of places you see on TV. For a bar, it was pretty classy, with nice plush couches and fat armchairs sitting around the dance floor. I ordered a Coke (I’ve never been much of a drinker). Joe and Pete wanted Budweiser. Andy was left ordering the girliest thing on the menu – the brand new chocotini.
“Omigawd, how fetch!” Joe squealed when the chocotini was plunked on the table. Andy glared and gave it a small sip.
“How is it?” Pete asked.
“Not bad.” Andy took another drink. “Like an alcoholic Tootsie Roll.”
“I wanna see your Tootsie Roll,” Joe said in a deep, half-pedophile voice, and I nearly choked on my Coke. Joe was pretty funny when I wasn’t the butt of his jokes.
Andy, for what was probably the fifth time in his life, blushed. “Dude, not here! There are gay dudes here! They might think I’m…” He lowered his voice. “You know.”
“If you keep drinking chocotinis, then yeah, they will think you’re… You know.” Pete took a drink and looked around. “Man, I really missed this place.” He gave me a grin. “I almost forgot how fun it was to get out of the house.”
“Hey.” A guy who I recognized from the light from my bedroom window appeared at my shoulder. The last time I’d seen him, his head was on my pillow.
Seeing as I had only ever had sex with three people, and it had been a good year and a half since I had even kissed somebody, I couldn’t help but recognize him. He didn’t seem to recognize me – or, if he did, he kindly ignored me in favor of resting his gaze on the drink in Andy’s hand. Andy gulped, and Joe smirked.
Joe smirked, that is, until another guy showed up, giving him the same up-and-down stare Andy was receiving.
“You two wanna dance?” the second one asked with a cheery grin. I noticed then that the two of them had handkerchiefs in their pockets – the one leering at Andy had a leopard-print one in his right pocket, while the one making eyes at Joe had a teal one poking out of his left pocket. Having learned more about ‘70s gay culture than could possibly be useful, I recognized the symbols easily.
And decided that it was time to pay my asshole friends back for everything they’d ever done to me.
“Of course they do!” I chirped, grabbing the drinks from my friends’ hands and giving them to a waiter to take away. “Just a little shy, that’s all.”
Pete surprised me with his willingness to participate in the torture. “Yeah. They don’t think they’re very good dancers,” he said in a stage whisper to the two. I had to keep my eyes on the tablecloth to keep from laughing. Joe’s face was contorted in shock, and Andy’s mouth was moving with nothing but tiny squeaks and hisses coming out.
“They’re also a little worried they’re not, you know…” Pete dropped his voice sympathetically. “Attractive.”
The two men gave Andy and Joe a quick, sad glance.
“But hey.” I tapped Andy’s man on the wrist. “Why don’t you prove them wrong? I’m sure they’d love to get to know you two.”
“Well, sure!” the second said, grabbing the stunned Joe’s hand. “Don’t worry about a thing, boys. You’re in good hands.” He gave Joe a wink and he and his partner pulled their prey out to the dance floor.
The second they were out of sight, I threw a few bills down on the table, turned to Pete, and said, “Let’s run for it.”
Pete looked even more shell-shocked than Andy and Joe just had. “Run for it?” he repeated quietly. “You mean… Ditch them?”
I shrugged. “They’d do the same to us, wouldn’t they?”
He looked caught. He glanced back at the writhing dance floor, then stared at the door.
He jumped up. “Come on, let’s go before they see us.”
We raced out, hitched a cab, and laughed our way back to my house. By the time we got in the door, I was ready to collapse from howls.
“Did you see the handkerchiefs?” I sobbed, grabbing onto the counter for support.
Pete could only nod. He was trying to get his breath back, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Do you know what they meant?” I asked.
Pete shook his head, still rocking with laughter.
I took a deep breath. “Andy’s guy,” I giggled, “likes tattoos. No big deal.”
Pete shook his head again, managing a tiny, winded, “No big deal.”
“The other guy…” I had to fight back the laughter that I knew was coming back. “The other guy is a genital torturer.”
That was it. Pete slipped to the linoleum with laughter so harsh that it was silent. I finally joined him, sliding down the cabinets to my knees.
It must’ve taken us a good fifteen minutes to get over it. By the end, we were wiping our eyes and gasping for air.
“Ohhh, man,” Pete muttered, still chuckling. “Oh. God, poor Joe.”
“Fuck Joe,” I replied. “He once tied me to a doorknob and paid a homeless guy to pee on me. I think the time’s right for a little revenge.”
“He got a homeless guy to pee on you? Where the hell was I?”
“It was back in high school.”
“Wow.”
“Joe was a dick in high school.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
I took a deep breath and leaned back against the cabinet. “I’m surprised I don’t feel guilty.” I looked over at Pete. “I bet you missed this kind of stuff, huh?”
“Yeah. Marriage will do that.” He gave me a tiny smile. “Listen.” He sat up a little straighter, suddenly serious. “Listen, man. It’s just me and you right now.”
I nodded, trying to ignore a quivering deep in my stomach.
“So you can be perfectly honest?”
“Of course, Pete.”
“Why is it that you hate Ashlee?”
I groaned. That was the last thing I wanted to talk about. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious!” Pete grabbed my shoulder. “Why don’t you like her?”
“Maybe because you never shut the hell up about her.” I stood up and began pacing. “Just… I don’t like her, okay?”
“But why?” Goddamn, he was persistent.
“Because, she just…” I shook my head, frustrated. “I don’t know the words.”
“Just try.”
I puffed out my cheeks, trying to think. I finally exhaled. “I guess she just doesn’t see what she has.”
“What do you mean?”
I was in hell. Why the fuck didn’t he want me to describe it. “She’s a bitch” just wouldn’t suffice?
“Just… Think about it.” I snatched off my hat and ran a hand through my hair. “You give her everything. I mean, you have a kid with her, and she doesn’t fucking care. You marry her, and she doesn’t fucking care. You buy her anything and everything, you’re her slave, and she doesn’t fucking care!” I shook my head. “No offense, but you fucked up pretty bad, picking someone so Goddamned unappreciative.”
Pete looked stunned at my honesty. It was like I’d just stabbed his dog in front of him.
“Jesus, Pat, where’d all that come from?” he breathed.
“You told me to be honest!” I snapped. “I hate her. I thought you knew that.”
“Well, yeah, but… Wow.”
“I told you. If you don’t want to know, maybe you shouldn’t ask.” I leaned back against the fridge, crossing my arms. “All I know is that I’d fucking kill to have someone write a love song for me.”
He didn’t answer. After a few minutes of sitting, still slumped on the floor, he stood, brushed himself off, and left without looking back.
About an hour later, Andy and Joe threw themselves inside, looking angry as hell. “What the hell was that shit?!” Joe shrieked, throwing a vase at me (fortunately missing). I noticed his shirtsleeve was torn, and Andy’s shirt was gone. Which wouldn’t have surprised me, but he had his arms wrapped protectively around himself.
“I feel dirty, Pat,” he moaned. “So fucking dirty…”
It took everything I had not to laugh. I wanted to stay in a pissy mood, but it was getting more and more difficult every second. Joe limped in, his eyes crazy and glued to me.
“Do you know why I’m limping?” Joe asked dangerously.
“I… Can guess,” I said quietly. I had to hold a hand in front of my mouth to disguise my grin. He looked way too insane to piss off.
“I’m limping,” Joe explained quietly, “because I just had a screw shoved halfway up my penis.”
That was it, I couldn’t help it. I broke down. My abdomen ached from laughter. “A screw?” I screamed. “A screw? Why the hell did you let him near your cock?”
“I HAD TO PEE AND HE WAS HELPING ME!” Joe shouted. That just made it worse – I was crying. “I thought he was just being nice!”
“What about you?” I choked, looking over at the still-white-and-shuddering Andy.
“He touched me, Pat. He touched me.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Joe snapped. “You didn’t have hardware in your pecker.”
“He grabbed a nipple, Pat!” Andy shouted, making me jump. “A fucking nipple!” He pointed at the pink spots on his chest. “These are MINE, Goddammit! MY nipples!”
“I can see that,” I gasped.
Andy grabbed me by the shirt and hauled me up, shaking me violently. “You know I put out when I’m drunk!” he yelled. “You know, and you took advantage of me!”
“No I didn’t,” I told him. “That guy at the bar took advantage of you.”
Andy threw me down and skulked to the fridge. “You are the biggest asshole I have ever fucking met.”
“With the biggest ass I’ve ever fucking seen,” Joe added for good measure.
Even that couldn’t faze me. Fat jokes couldn’t invade on the sweet entertainment of watching Joe grab an ice pack and slap it over his crotch.
“You know, if you hate me so much, maybe you should get out of my house,” I told them. All they did was glare. Joe rearranged his pack and winced.
I snickered. “Sorry, guys.”
“Whatever.” A cold root beer had calmed Andy down considerably. He flung himself on my couch. “So, where’s Pete?”
“Did you see little Pete?” Joe asked, feigning innocence.
“In the dark?”
“Under the covers?”
“Did he light up the room with his flashlight?”
“And by flashlight, we mean penis.”
“And by the room, we mean you.”
“And by light up, we mean butt fuck.”
I snorted. “Yeah, guys. That’s why I’m jumping around and dancing.” I sighed. “Don’t worry, I still have my new-found virginity intact.” I sat down next to Andy and looked down at my stomach. “And if I don’t lose weight, I have a good feeling it’ll stay that way.”
“Even if you do lose weight, it’ll stay that way,” Joe joked, bordering on cruel. “You’re one unattractive little leprechaun.”
“Wow, Joe, anger much?” Andy replied.
“I had a Goddamn screw shoved up my dick,” Joe answered, scowling. “I can say whatever I damn well please.”
“He’s got a point,” I admitted. “No, I told Pete what I think of Ashlee, and he got mad and left.”
Joe sat up so quick he gave a gasp of pain and laid gingerly back down. “For real?” he asked breathlessly, holding down the ice pack. “You told him you love him?”
“God no!” I laughed bitterly. “Yeah, that’d be a fun conversation. Face it, Pete thinks of me as a brother.”
“A brother you never, ever wanna have sex with,” Andy nodded sympathetically.
I ran a hand over my face, suddenly tired. “I just wish I knew what he sees in her.” I turned to Joe. “What do you think he likes in a guy?”
Joe shrugged. “He seems to like Johnny Depp.”
“Dude, I’m straight and I like Johnny Depp,” Andy snapped. “I think he likes guys… Like him.”
“You know, like, in his league. Not ugly motherfuckers like you,” Joe explained.
“Gee, thanks. Want another screw up your cock?” I was back in my bad mood. Even Joe’s look of anguish when I smacked his crotch didn’t cheer me up.
“It’s just… Ashlee… It’s like she’s blind,” I mumbled. “How can she not see how lucky she is? She had something that I would fucking die for, and she doesn’t even care about it.”
“Yeah, well…” Joe looked awkward. He seemed to want to continue being mean to me, but he obviously didn’t have the heart.
Andy reached over and shook my shoulder. “Hey, don’t feel bad, man. You’re gonna find someone, and you’re gonna have a great life. Good things happen to good people.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I shook him off and pointed at the door. “Now get the hell out, will you? I want to brood in silence.”
Author's Note: Comments are very much appreciated!
Author's Note: This chapter was kind of an asshole to me when I was putting it on Ficwad. I had to upload it four fucking times. Still, I found this chapter to be my favorite. And no - I don't know what a screw to the urethra would do to the human body, but I'll be damned if I'm not amused by the idea. The last three chapters were originally only one chapter, but I've decided that it's only fair to separate the smut from the rest of the story. That way, you can cut it out if it's not your cup of tea.
Name: High On Infinity
Pairing: Patrick/Pete (Fall Out Boy)
Genre: Humor, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Three
The lights were blinding. We were playing a small charity gig, nothing impressive, but the auditorium we were in was lit up like a joint on 4-20. All I could feel were guitar strings under my fingertips, my mouth forming the words “dance, dance” and Pete’s head resting gently on my shoulder. I felt the last one most of all. It was enough to make a guy forget the words to a song he’d played a hundred times before.
Fortunately, that didn’t happen.
I always marveled at the way Pete did that. It never fails – every show, he winds up at my shoulder, his sweat-soaked hair brushing my neck. I wonder if the crowd ever saw an enamored expression on my face, because “enamored” is the only way to describe the feelings that any contact with Pete brought up. He was more than a friend, or a band mate, or a crush – he was the personification of everything right with the world.
As I began to play “Hum Hallelujah,” I thought about how much I hated the song. Not because it was poorly written – the words were just as beautiful as any others I had seen come from Pete’s pen. It wasn’t even the heartbroken tone of the song. It was what it stood for more than anything else.
As with all of Pete’s songs, I asked what it meant. Who was it for? Why was it written? Was it autobiographical, or general, just a few words scratched out about a feeling once felt put not pinpointed, known but not identified?
“I wrote it a long time ago, when Ashlee said she didn’t want to get married,” he answered, fiddling with his wedding band. “I was bitter.” He smiled at me. “I guess I have to take it back now, though, don’t I?”
I didn’t want him to take it back. I wanted him to remember it, keep it in his heart, let it fester, and then let it rot their relationship from the inside out.
I never said I wasn’t vindictive.
The words “sometimes we take pills” never failed to put a shudder through me. I knew Pete felt it as we played, and he glanced questioningly up at me. I tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, but I couldn’t help it.
When Pete had tried to kill himself, that day became the worst of my life. I got the call from him, and I felt so Goddamn far away, so helpless. I couldn’t be there with him. I couldn’t save him, I couldn’t even try. That was someone else’s job.
But it was supposed to be my job.
After that day, nothing could faze me. I still don’t know if that was good or bad. I barely felt it when my dad hung up after hearing me admit that I like guys. I think it would have hurt worse to have my mom not send me a Christmas card like she always did had I not gone through what I had.
How can anything compare to almost losing the person you love more than your own life?
I found my voice shaking, and I tried to steady it. It was a challenge just to keep my breath from catching on tears I’d forgotten I’d had. Something about the adrenaline, the heat, and the beating heart of the love of my life next to me had flipped a switch.
We went off the stage to screams of happiness, but I was shaking. What the hell is wrong with me? I thought.
But when I saw Ashlee and baby Bronx, I realized it.
It was their job to save him from now on.
That opportunity would never be mine.
“Hey, my big bad rock star!” Ashlee cooed, kissing Pete in a way that made it look like she was trying to scoop his tongue out of his mouth with her own. Joe cast me a look as he packed up his guitar. I kept my eyes on my own guitar case.
“There’s my two favorite girls,” Pete said when he finally came up for air. Andy and I exchanged glances that said, “Well, no shit.”
“Pete, we’re going out for a drink. Wanna come?” Andy was checking his stupid watch again. I tossed a shirt at him.
“If we’re going to a bar, you’re gonna want to be fully dressed.” I stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. “Especially if we’re going to the kind of bar that makes appletinis.”
“Hey, shut the fuck up,” Andy snapped, pulling on the shirt. “They’re a good drink.”
Joe just laughed. “Sometimes I think you’re gayer than Pat.”
Andy shrugged. “I think most people are gayer than Pat. Pat’s just not very gay.”
Joe nodded. “Not very gay at all.”
“A terrible excuse for a homosexual,” Andy added.
“Truly the straightest of the gays.” Joe shook me slightly. I rolled my eyes.
“There’s just nothing gay about Pat,” Andy concluded.
Pete laughed. “You mean except the ‘having sex with guys’ thing?”
“To them, that’s a minor detail,” I reminded him. “So, are you coming with us or not?”
Ashlee was shooting him a dangerously bitchy look, but Pete shrugged. “Yeah, sure. We haven’t done anything in a while.”
“Two and a half weeks.” Andy checked his watch (which also had the date, moon cycle, and a calculator). “And even then you picked up a couple pizzas and left.”
Ashlee turned on her heel and stormed out, angry, I’m sure, that she wasn’t the center of attention. It didn’t matter – Pete was coming with us, and that’s all that any of us cared about.
The bar that we went to was one that we had discovered in college, not long after we began playing together. It was pretty much a gay bar – most of the patrons were gay – but it had nothing to do with leather or sex, like the kind of places you see on TV. For a bar, it was pretty classy, with nice plush couches and fat armchairs sitting around the dance floor. I ordered a Coke (I’ve never been much of a drinker). Joe and Pete wanted Budweiser. Andy was left ordering the girliest thing on the menu – the brand new chocotini.
“Omigawd, how fetch!” Joe squealed when the chocotini was plunked on the table. Andy glared and gave it a small sip.
“How is it?” Pete asked.
“Not bad.” Andy took another drink. “Like an alcoholic Tootsie Roll.”
“I wanna see your Tootsie Roll,” Joe said in a deep, half-pedophile voice, and I nearly choked on my Coke. Joe was pretty funny when I wasn’t the butt of his jokes.
Andy, for what was probably the fifth time in his life, blushed. “Dude, not here! There are gay dudes here! They might think I’m…” He lowered his voice. “You know.”
“If you keep drinking chocotinis, then yeah, they will think you’re… You know.” Pete took a drink and looked around. “Man, I really missed this place.” He gave me a grin. “I almost forgot how fun it was to get out of the house.”
“Hey.” A guy who I recognized from the light from my bedroom window appeared at my shoulder. The last time I’d seen him, his head was on my pillow.
Seeing as I had only ever had sex with three people, and it had been a good year and a half since I had even kissed somebody, I couldn’t help but recognize him. He didn’t seem to recognize me – or, if he did, he kindly ignored me in favor of resting his gaze on the drink in Andy’s hand. Andy gulped, and Joe smirked.
Joe smirked, that is, until another guy showed up, giving him the same up-and-down stare Andy was receiving.
“You two wanna dance?” the second one asked with a cheery grin. I noticed then that the two of them had handkerchiefs in their pockets – the one leering at Andy had a leopard-print one in his right pocket, while the one making eyes at Joe had a teal one poking out of his left pocket. Having learned more about ‘70s gay culture than could possibly be useful, I recognized the symbols easily.
And decided that it was time to pay my asshole friends back for everything they’d ever done to me.
“Of course they do!” I chirped, grabbing the drinks from my friends’ hands and giving them to a waiter to take away. “Just a little shy, that’s all.”
Pete surprised me with his willingness to participate in the torture. “Yeah. They don’t think they’re very good dancers,” he said in a stage whisper to the two. I had to keep my eyes on the tablecloth to keep from laughing. Joe’s face was contorted in shock, and Andy’s mouth was moving with nothing but tiny squeaks and hisses coming out.
“They’re also a little worried they’re not, you know…” Pete dropped his voice sympathetically. “Attractive.”
The two men gave Andy and Joe a quick, sad glance.
“But hey.” I tapped Andy’s man on the wrist. “Why don’t you prove them wrong? I’m sure they’d love to get to know you two.”
“Well, sure!” the second said, grabbing the stunned Joe’s hand. “Don’t worry about a thing, boys. You’re in good hands.” He gave Joe a wink and he and his partner pulled their prey out to the dance floor.
The second they were out of sight, I threw a few bills down on the table, turned to Pete, and said, “Let’s run for it.”
Pete looked even more shell-shocked than Andy and Joe just had. “Run for it?” he repeated quietly. “You mean… Ditch them?”
I shrugged. “They’d do the same to us, wouldn’t they?”
He looked caught. He glanced back at the writhing dance floor, then stared at the door.
He jumped up. “Come on, let’s go before they see us.”
We raced out, hitched a cab, and laughed our way back to my house. By the time we got in the door, I was ready to collapse from howls.
“Did you see the handkerchiefs?” I sobbed, grabbing onto the counter for support.
Pete could only nod. He was trying to get his breath back, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Do you know what they meant?” I asked.
Pete shook his head, still rocking with laughter.
I took a deep breath. “Andy’s guy,” I giggled, “likes tattoos. No big deal.”
Pete shook his head again, managing a tiny, winded, “No big deal.”
“The other guy…” I had to fight back the laughter that I knew was coming back. “The other guy is a genital torturer.”
That was it. Pete slipped to the linoleum with laughter so harsh that it was silent. I finally joined him, sliding down the cabinets to my knees.
It must’ve taken us a good fifteen minutes to get over it. By the end, we were wiping our eyes and gasping for air.
“Ohhh, man,” Pete muttered, still chuckling. “Oh. God, poor Joe.”
“Fuck Joe,” I replied. “He once tied me to a doorknob and paid a homeless guy to pee on me. I think the time’s right for a little revenge.”
“He got a homeless guy to pee on you? Where the hell was I?”
“It was back in high school.”
“Wow.”
“Joe was a dick in high school.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
I took a deep breath and leaned back against the cabinet. “I’m surprised I don’t feel guilty.” I looked over at Pete. “I bet you missed this kind of stuff, huh?”
“Yeah. Marriage will do that.” He gave me a tiny smile. “Listen.” He sat up a little straighter, suddenly serious. “Listen, man. It’s just me and you right now.”
I nodded, trying to ignore a quivering deep in my stomach.
“So you can be perfectly honest?”
“Of course, Pete.”
“Why is it that you hate Ashlee?”
I groaned. That was the last thing I wanted to talk about. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious!” Pete grabbed my shoulder. “Why don’t you like her?”
“Maybe because you never shut the hell up about her.” I stood up and began pacing. “Just… I don’t like her, okay?”
“But why?” Goddamn, he was persistent.
“Because, she just…” I shook my head, frustrated. “I don’t know the words.”
“Just try.”
I puffed out my cheeks, trying to think. I finally exhaled. “I guess she just doesn’t see what she has.”
“What do you mean?”
I was in hell. Why the fuck didn’t he want me to describe it. “She’s a bitch” just wouldn’t suffice?
“Just… Think about it.” I snatched off my hat and ran a hand through my hair. “You give her everything. I mean, you have a kid with her, and she doesn’t fucking care. You marry her, and she doesn’t fucking care. You buy her anything and everything, you’re her slave, and she doesn’t fucking care!” I shook my head. “No offense, but you fucked up pretty bad, picking someone so Goddamned unappreciative.”
Pete looked stunned at my honesty. It was like I’d just stabbed his dog in front of him.
“Jesus, Pat, where’d all that come from?” he breathed.
“You told me to be honest!” I snapped. “I hate her. I thought you knew that.”
“Well, yeah, but… Wow.”
“I told you. If you don’t want to know, maybe you shouldn’t ask.” I leaned back against the fridge, crossing my arms. “All I know is that I’d fucking kill to have someone write a love song for me.”
He didn’t answer. After a few minutes of sitting, still slumped on the floor, he stood, brushed himself off, and left without looking back.
About an hour later, Andy and Joe threw themselves inside, looking angry as hell. “What the hell was that shit?!” Joe shrieked, throwing a vase at me (fortunately missing). I noticed his shirtsleeve was torn, and Andy’s shirt was gone. Which wouldn’t have surprised me, but he had his arms wrapped protectively around himself.
“I feel dirty, Pat,” he moaned. “So fucking dirty…”
It took everything I had not to laugh. I wanted to stay in a pissy mood, but it was getting more and more difficult every second. Joe limped in, his eyes crazy and glued to me.
“Do you know why I’m limping?” Joe asked dangerously.
“I… Can guess,” I said quietly. I had to hold a hand in front of my mouth to disguise my grin. He looked way too insane to piss off.
“I’m limping,” Joe explained quietly, “because I just had a screw shoved halfway up my penis.”
That was it, I couldn’t help it. I broke down. My abdomen ached from laughter. “A screw?” I screamed. “A screw? Why the hell did you let him near your cock?”
“I HAD TO PEE AND HE WAS HELPING ME!” Joe shouted. That just made it worse – I was crying. “I thought he was just being nice!”
“What about you?” I choked, looking over at the still-white-and-shuddering Andy.
“He touched me, Pat. He touched me.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Joe snapped. “You didn’t have hardware in your pecker.”
“He grabbed a nipple, Pat!” Andy shouted, making me jump. “A fucking nipple!” He pointed at the pink spots on his chest. “These are MINE, Goddammit! MY nipples!”
“I can see that,” I gasped.
Andy grabbed me by the shirt and hauled me up, shaking me violently. “You know I put out when I’m drunk!” he yelled. “You know, and you took advantage of me!”
“No I didn’t,” I told him. “That guy at the bar took advantage of you.”
Andy threw me down and skulked to the fridge. “You are the biggest asshole I have ever fucking met.”
“With the biggest ass I’ve ever fucking seen,” Joe added for good measure.
Even that couldn’t faze me. Fat jokes couldn’t invade on the sweet entertainment of watching Joe grab an ice pack and slap it over his crotch.
“You know, if you hate me so much, maybe you should get out of my house,” I told them. All they did was glare. Joe rearranged his pack and winced.
I snickered. “Sorry, guys.”
“Whatever.” A cold root beer had calmed Andy down considerably. He flung himself on my couch. “So, where’s Pete?”
“Did you see little Pete?” Joe asked, feigning innocence.
“In the dark?”
“Under the covers?”
“Did he light up the room with his flashlight?”
“And by flashlight, we mean penis.”
“And by the room, we mean you.”
“And by light up, we mean butt fuck.”
I snorted. “Yeah, guys. That’s why I’m jumping around and dancing.” I sighed. “Don’t worry, I still have my new-found virginity intact.” I sat down next to Andy and looked down at my stomach. “And if I don’t lose weight, I have a good feeling it’ll stay that way.”
“Even if you do lose weight, it’ll stay that way,” Joe joked, bordering on cruel. “You’re one unattractive little leprechaun.”
“Wow, Joe, anger much?” Andy replied.
“I had a Goddamn screw shoved up my dick,” Joe answered, scowling. “I can say whatever I damn well please.”
“He’s got a point,” I admitted. “No, I told Pete what I think of Ashlee, and he got mad and left.”
Joe sat up so quick he gave a gasp of pain and laid gingerly back down. “For real?” he asked breathlessly, holding down the ice pack. “You told him you love him?”
“God no!” I laughed bitterly. “Yeah, that’d be a fun conversation. Face it, Pete thinks of me as a brother.”
“A brother you never, ever wanna have sex with,” Andy nodded sympathetically.
I ran a hand over my face, suddenly tired. “I just wish I knew what he sees in her.” I turned to Joe. “What do you think he likes in a guy?”
Joe shrugged. “He seems to like Johnny Depp.”
“Dude, I’m straight and I like Johnny Depp,” Andy snapped. “I think he likes guys… Like him.”
“You know, like, in his league. Not ugly motherfuckers like you,” Joe explained.
“Gee, thanks. Want another screw up your cock?” I was back in my bad mood. Even Joe’s look of anguish when I smacked his crotch didn’t cheer me up.
“It’s just… Ashlee… It’s like she’s blind,” I mumbled. “How can she not see how lucky she is? She had something that I would fucking die for, and she doesn’t even care about it.”
“Yeah, well…” Joe looked awkward. He seemed to want to continue being mean to me, but he obviously didn’t have the heart.
Andy reached over and shook my shoulder. “Hey, don’t feel bad, man. You’re gonna find someone, and you’re gonna have a great life. Good things happen to good people.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I shook him off and pointed at the door. “Now get the hell out, will you? I want to brood in silence.”
Author's Note: Comments are very much appreciated!
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