Just Dance
Title: Just Dance
Author: starsandsands
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Brendon/Patrick \o/
POV: 3rd, Patrick-centric,
Summary: We've sexed, Patrick, sexed!
Disclaimer: Dude, if this actually happened, I want the tape. [It didn't & I don't own anyone/anything]
Author Notes: This is quickly becoming a verse. Sequel to It's Not Just an Infatuation, It's an Obsession. I had a dream that FOB was doing a video and it involved Patrick dancing, soporta wanted fic, so I obliged. Title belongs to Lady Gaga.
Oh, god. Why does Pete Wentz have to walk in on the most awkward situations? Seriously.
"It's like he has a radar that detects you doing something he can tease you about for months," Patrick whines, resting his head on Brendon's shoulder.
"What happened?"
"Was dancing," he mumbles into his boyfriend's neck, feeling his face darken.
"Dancing?" Brendon shrugs Patrick off. "You were dancing?" Patrick nods and Brendon pouts. "Like Emo-Kid-Going-To-a-Concert dancing or full-scale Napoleon Dynamite-Meets-Broadway-Musical dancing?"
"Napoleon," Patrick whispers, his face flushing even more. Brendon practically falls over with excitement, his big brown eyes even wider than normal.
"IwannaseeIwannaseeIwannasee!" Brendon squeals, his arms flailing in pure, spastic glee.
"No," Patrick says firmly, scooting away to avoid being whapped by a stray arm.
"But I'll make it worth your while," Brendon's voice drops to a husky tone as he places a hand on Patrick's thigh.
"Oh no you don't," Patrick removes Brendon's hand. "Last time you said that, Pete walked in on us with me wearing l-l-lingerie," he whispers the last word, as if someone could hear them in the empty dressing room.
"But you look great in black lace!" Brendon exclaims, grinning and obviously remembering the incident.
Patrick grins back, then shakes his head. "That's not the point! He called me 'Miss' and treated me like a chick for a month!"
"So?"
"He opened doors for me, doors!"
"That bastard!"
"He doesn't even do that with his mother, or Ashlee, his wife and the mother of his child!"
"Peter Wentz, I damn thee to the deepest, dankest pit of hell for all eternity!" Brendon grins, then plasters himself to Patrick again. "Come on 'Tricky, for me?"
"No!" Patrick practically shouts, causing Brendon to shrink away and pout. Patrick immediately spots his mistake and tries to fix it. "Look Bren, I mean, it's embarrassing!"
"Patrick Martin Vaughn Stump, I have seen you naked more times than I could count on both hands and feet. We've sexed, Patrick, sexed! Not to mention all the compromising and semi-embarrassming posi-"
"Okay, okay, shut up! Just... lock the door and put some music on."
"Yay!" Brendon jumps off the couch, running about the room, locking the door, shutting the blinds and turning his ipod on the dock on.
When Patrick hears the first few notes of the song, he shakes his head. "No, I'm not dancing to one of my own songs, much less one about cheating."
Brendon makes big, moony, heart-eyes at him and Patrick sighs, getting up. "Alright, but don't say anything."
"You are so totally getting a blowjob for this!" Brendon claps his hands together happily.
"Ssh," Patrick hisses, closing his eyes and concentrating on the music.
He bops for a few beats, then shimmies, getting lost in the sounds. He does a few complicated steps, shakes his hips and breaks into a full routine, a la Napoleon Dynamite. He hops, jumps, twirls and shimmies his way across the room until the song is over, leaving him sweating, flushed and out-of-breath.
Brendon pounces.
"You're amazing," he breathes, in between kisses.
"Mmm... thanks," Patrick mumbles into Brendon's mouth. He groans as Brendon draws away, then gets down on his knees and unbuttons Patrick's fly. Brendon's just about to put Patrick in his mouth when the door swings open.
"Hey! I hope I'm bot interrupting anyth-" Pete stops in his tracks and Patrick hurriedly tries to hide, a dark crimson spreading over his already-flushed face.
"Dude!" Brendon huffs, "I was just about to give Patrick the best blowjob of his life until you so rudely interrupted!"
"Sorry. It isn't my fault you two are always doing whacko, crazy perverted shit whenever I'm around."
"How'd you get in the door was lo-" Pete's gone before Patrick can finish his question, the door slamming shut.
Brendon goes over to the door and finds it locked. "He's magic!" he whispers, eyes wide.
"You gonna finish what you started or are you going to leave me like this before a show?"
Brendon smirks and saunters over to Patrick, to finish his "job".
END.
Author: starsandsands
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Brendon/Patrick \o/
POV: 3rd, Patrick-centric,
Summary: We've sexed, Patrick, sexed!
Disclaimer: Dude, if this actually happened, I want the tape. [It didn't & I don't own anyone/anything]
Author Notes: This is quickly becoming a verse. Sequel to It's Not Just an Infatuation, It's an Obsession. I had a dream that FOB was doing a video and it involved Patrick dancing, soporta wanted fic, so I obliged. Title belongs to Lady Gaga.
Oh, god. Why does Pete Wentz have to walk in on the most awkward situations? Seriously.
"It's like he has a radar that detects you doing something he can tease you about for months," Patrick whines, resting his head on Brendon's shoulder.
"What happened?"
"Was dancing," he mumbles into his boyfriend's neck, feeling his face darken.
"Dancing?" Brendon shrugs Patrick off. "You were dancing?" Patrick nods and Brendon pouts. "Like Emo-Kid-Going-To-a-Concert dancing or full-scale Napoleon Dynamite-Meets-Broadway-Musical dancing?"
"Napoleon," Patrick whispers, his face flushing even more. Brendon practically falls over with excitement, his big brown eyes even wider than normal.
"IwannaseeIwannaseeIwannasee!" Brendon squeals, his arms flailing in pure, spastic glee.
"No," Patrick says firmly, scooting away to avoid being whapped by a stray arm.
"But I'll make it worth your while," Brendon's voice drops to a husky tone as he places a hand on Patrick's thigh.
"Oh no you don't," Patrick removes Brendon's hand. "Last time you said that, Pete walked in on us with me wearing l-l-lingerie," he whispers the last word, as if someone could hear them in the empty dressing room.
"But you look great in black lace!" Brendon exclaims, grinning and obviously remembering the incident.
Patrick grins back, then shakes his head. "That's not the point! He called me 'Miss' and treated me like a chick for a month!"
"So?"
"He opened doors for me, doors!"
"That bastard!"
"He doesn't even do that with his mother, or Ashlee, his wife and the mother of his child!"
"Peter Wentz, I damn thee to the deepest, dankest pit of hell for all eternity!" Brendon grins, then plasters himself to Patrick again. "Come on 'Tricky, for me?"
"No!" Patrick practically shouts, causing Brendon to shrink away and pout. Patrick immediately spots his mistake and tries to fix it. "Look Bren, I mean, it's embarrassing!"
"Patrick Martin Vaughn Stump, I have seen you naked more times than I could count on both hands and feet. We've sexed, Patrick, sexed! Not to mention all the compromising and semi-embarrassming posi-"
"Okay, okay, shut up! Just... lock the door and put some music on."
"Yay!" Brendon jumps off the couch, running about the room, locking the door, shutting the blinds and turning his ipod on the dock on.
When Patrick hears the first few notes of the song, he shakes his head. "No, I'm not dancing to one of my own songs, much less one about cheating."
Brendon makes big, moony, heart-eyes at him and Patrick sighs, getting up. "Alright, but don't say anything."
"You are so totally getting a blowjob for this!" Brendon claps his hands together happily.
"Ssh," Patrick hisses, closing his eyes and concentrating on the music.
He bops for a few beats, then shimmies, getting lost in the sounds. He does a few complicated steps, shakes his hips and breaks into a full routine, a la Napoleon Dynamite. He hops, jumps, twirls and shimmies his way across the room until the song is over, leaving him sweating, flushed and out-of-breath.
Brendon pounces.
"You're amazing," he breathes, in between kisses.
"Mmm... thanks," Patrick mumbles into Brendon's mouth. He groans as Brendon draws away, then gets down on his knees and unbuttons Patrick's fly. Brendon's just about to put Patrick in his mouth when the door swings open.
"Hey! I hope I'm bot interrupting anyth-" Pete stops in his tracks and Patrick hurriedly tries to hide, a dark crimson spreading over his already-flushed face.
"Dude!" Brendon huffs, "I was just about to give Patrick the best blowjob of his life until you so rudely interrupted!"
"Sorry. It isn't my fault you two are always doing whacko, crazy perverted shit whenever I'm around."
"How'd you get in the door was lo-" Pete's gone before Patrick can finish his question, the door slamming shut.
Brendon goes over to the door and finds it locked. "He's magic!" he whispers, eyes wide.
"You gonna finish what you started or are you going to leave me like this before a show?"
Brendon smirks and saunters over to Patrick, to finish his "job".
END.