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[giddygeek]

More ficlets, from an entirely different fandom. These ones are pretty short, but I think I like them best of the four I did last night.

Bandslash, Pete/Patrick. I haven't written it before but I'll admit to being desperately in love with the pairing. This first one is for ficbyzee, who didn't have a specific prompt, but I had a theme, so! *grins*



Being hugged by Pete is sometimes a lot like being smothered by an octopus while trying to keep it from humping your leg. At least in Patrick's experience--which is, admittedly, vast.

"Mrphgrugh," he says against Pete's neck. "Archanth."

The hand on his nape loosens its grip a little. Patrick pulls back enough for breathing and intelligible speech and says, "I like oxygen, Pete, I kind of live on it, you know?" and he twists his hips away a little, lets one arm hang at his side. But the other arm braces on Pete's waist; he rests his cheek against Pete's shoulder.

"You could totally live by breathing me in." Pete is grinning, Patrick can tell. The hand on the back of Patrick's neck squeezes lightly, thumb brushing through his hair. "Admit it, Stump. You need me more than this paltry oxygen of which you speak."

"No one can live off pure ego alone." Patrick rolls his eyes--damn, Pete, really. He tries to wriggle free but Pete just smacks a kiss on his cheek and says, "I could live off of pure you," and looks at him with gleaming eyes, and Patrick thinks, maybe, maybe he could, after all.



This one was for kalpurna, who wanted Pete/Patrick in a bunk on the tour bus.



"Patrick," Pete whispers. The curtain of his bunk slides back, and Patrick opens his eyes. Pete's a blur, a dark shape against the faint orange glow coming in through the window. "Patrick, are you awake?"

"You know I wasn't," Patrick says, cranky and sleepy, but when Pete says, "Move over," he shoves to the back of his bunk. The wall is cold. He shivers, and then Pete is sliding in with him, warm, tucking in close by necessity. There isn't a lot of room in the bunks, not for two. 'I'm going to lie down in my chastity device now,' Joe says sometimes. 'Have a good abstinence,' Pete responds.

Andy usually just smirks. He's gotten four naked people in a bunk before without anyone falling on the floor. He claims it as an unofficial Guinness world record. Patrick, with Pete wrapped around him and breathing on his neck, wonders why you'd even want more than two.

He closes his eyes again and shifts, settling, and Pete shifts with him, then says, "Patrick. Tell me a story."

"Once upon a time this guy got a swirly and then he got left on the side of the road for keeping his bandmates up past their bedtime," Patrick says. "And it was really, really sad."

"What happened to the guy who kept his Patrick up past his bedtime?" Pete asks, and he doesn't sound sorry but the hand that settles on Patrick's hip, petting a little, says something different.

Patrick yawns in his face; even with the petting, Pete deserves it. He says, "Nothing bad happened to that guy. I think he slept good and woke up happy and wrote a song about it."

"That's my favorite story," Pete says, quiet in the darkness, and Patrick puts his hand over Pete's and squeezes, and goes back to sleep.



Why yes, I fully intend to spam my friendslist today. Two posts down, one, maybe two more to go. ;-)

Comments

[giddygeek.livejournal.com]

I just love snuggling in fic, man. And pining and obliviousness and humor. This is why bandslash = super awesome. *grins* Anyway--glad you liked, thank you very much!