giddygeek | (no subject)

Another bandslash ficlet!

~900 words, Pete/Patrick, with thanks to

dsudis for agreeing with me. *G*

Fifty Hours a Night

After the fifth night of pretty damn near no sleep, Pete didn't so much ask Andy to switch places with him for a while as he begged, threatened, cajoled, and eventually bribed him.

Andy, who was a smart guy, had played very reluctant to be separated from all of his favorite smoothie ingredients overnight without appropriate compensation.

"This is literally highway robbery," Pete bitched, handing over all the cash in his wallet, the autograph he's been carrying around since Mark Hoppus gave it to him the first day of the tour, two pictures of Dirty's kid, and a ring made of bent paperclips that Brendon had given him in Vegas during their shirtless bowling wedding ceremony.

Andy accepted the cash and trinkets serenely. "Nothing in life is free," he said, which was bullshit because it seemed to Pete that he was always giving things away for free, but then Andy jerked his head and his little posse of vegan homeboys followed him over to the other bus and Pete had what he wanted, which was what mattered.

He headed into the lounge, and there was Patrick, frowning over his computer.

"Patrick," he said, relieved like he hadn't seen Patrick in a year. Knowing very well that he was risking life and limb, he picked the laptop up, put it on the floor while Patrick made outraged, growling noises and grabby hands, and then he collapsed face first into Patrick's lap, sighing hugely.

Patrick twitched, but the growling stopped. "Hey," he said, instantly concerned, one of his hands settling on Pete's back between his shoulder blades. "You all right?"

Pete rolled onto his side, facing Patrick. "If I said yes, would you kick my ass for putting the laptop down?"

"In a heartbeat," Patrick said without having to think about it, and Pete nodded, which felt strange considering his cheek was resting against warm denim and the solid strength of Patrick's thigh.

"Then no, I'm not all right, I can't sleep, entertain me," Pete said, and he started worming an arm behind Patrick's back. Patrick looked bewildered but obligingly made room, which meant slouching a little, which meant his hips pushing forward, and Pete looked affectionately at the bulge of his dick in the tight jeans and thought about kissing it; not like he was really trying to start something, but just to show his appreciation.

"No," Patrick said, clearly knowing just what Pete was thinking. "I seriously have work to do, Pete. I can't--"

"I am your frontman," Pete said, curling his arm more tightly behind Patrick, fisting his hand in Patrick's shirt. "I come before your other work."

Patrick touched his hair and Pete pushed up against his hand like a cat. Patrick looked like he was trying not to smile. "You're Pete," he said. "You don't come first just because you're the frontman."

And how was Pete supposed to resist that?

He leaned forward and gave into the urge to kiss Patrick through his jeans, to breathe hotly against the swell of his dick. Patrick's hips twitched and his hand clenched in Pete's hair, which was normally pretty awesome and a sign of Patrick's total willingness to give Pete whatever he wanted in exchange for this, but mid-breath, Pete yawned so hard his jaw cracked, and Patrick's second twitch was more nervousness than anything else.

"I'm not having sex with you when you're so tired you might accidentally yawn and bite off my dick," Patrick said. "You want to go lie down in the back?"

"I want to stay right here," Pete said, and kissed Patrick again just because he wanted to, because Patrick had said no, which was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. "We've got all night to go to bed, anyway. Let's stay right here, Patrick."

The hand in his hair scratched lightly at his scalp. "Yeah, well, it's not like could I go anywhere, with you in my lap," Patrick said after a while, and Pete smiled, because that was it. That was exactly right.

"You could try, and I'll try to stop you," he offered anyway. "That could be kind of fun."

Patrick snorted, tangling his fingers in Pete's hair before smoothing it flat again, trailing his fingers down Pete's cheek, brushing a thumb under his eyes, over the dark shadows Pete knew he had. It used to be easier to sleep, when he was tucked in a bunk across from Patrick; easier still to sleep tucked in with him. Two buses was a good idea, he knew it was, but sometimes when his bus was all sunlight and big empty bed, it was like trying to sleep on the moon.

"Or you could just shut up and take a nap," Patrick murmured. "And I'll wake you up when I'm ready to go to bed."

Pete smiled again and tightened his arm around Patrick. He curled up closer, enjoying the sway of the bus, the rhythm of Patrick's quiet breathing, the feel of his own heart thumping away in his chest. "Yeah," he said. "Just wake me up when you're ready." And, feeling all kinds of contented, peaceful and totally fucking exhausted, he closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

missmollyetc.livejournal.com

God, this is so wonderfully sweet. I love the Pete/Patrick interaction, especially when it shows their actual friendship as well as their more sexual side. Great stuff.

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(no subject)

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