Testing of my First Who Fic
This is the first Who fic I ever posted, woooooo! Thought it up a few nights ago, wrote it last night. Have fun reading. <33 (Still needs official betaing, but I'm posting it anyways just for kicks)
Title: Unholy Trinity
Author: Me (cutothechase)
Pairing: John/Keith, John/Pete, Keith/Pete, and surprise at the end
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own the Who or any individual members. It'd be too much cleaning up if I did.
Wordcount: 1091
Summary: John has been acting strange, so Keith knocks politely on Pete's door to ask for advice. But instead he found out a lot more than what he was looking for.
“Johnny, what’s wrong?” Keith asked exasperatedly for the millionth time.
John shrugged his shoulders, not able to meet Keith’s eyes. That was his answer to everything these days, and Keith was getting tired of it.
He sighed and slammed the door as he left the apartment, heading for the car which he barely knew how to drive.
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“Pete, where the bloody hell are you? I need to talk to you,” Keith called out casually after into Pete Townshend’s apartment.
Pete grunted to him as he came down the steps. “Keith, it’s fucking three A.M. And how did you get in, anyhow?”
“It was open,” he replied with a shrug. Pete skeptically went to investigate his front door, which was now lying flat on the floor, knocked completely off its hinges. Keith took this opportunity to raid his fridge.
“Yep, it’s open alright,” Pete muttered uninterestedly.
Keith scampered back before Pete even knew he was gone, sipping a cold beer. “Want one?” Keith asked.
“How very considerate of you.”
Assuming that wasn’t a no, Keith snatched another can from the fridge.
“Wanna come up then?” Pete asked, not even bothering to open his drink.
Keith nodded hesitantly and took the stairs two at a time in order to beat Pete to the top.
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“It’s like he doesn’t even love me anymore. Nothing’s funny, there’s no jokes, no more laughs. He won’t even look at me, Pete. I don’t know what to do.”
“This is about John, then?” Pete clarified, suddenly cracking open his beer and downing half. “That’s why you’re here, is it?”
Keith confirmed it with a bow of his head, his eyes studying the beer can fervently as embarrassment crept into his cheeks with a wave of pink.
“I thought… if anyone knew, it’d be you,” he said quietly, biting his lip.
Fuck, this kid is good, Pete thought. “I’d know what, Keith?” His tone convincingly maintained an air of boredom and frustration towards the younger man.
“You know, just… how to deal with John?” Keith gave him a hopeful glance, shifting position as he sat on the bed next to Pete.
Pete relaxed as he realized Keith wasn’t trying to imply anything.
“You just gotta give him time, is all. He’ll come around. He’s just not very vocal. When something’s bothering John, he won’t usually tell you. He’ll tell his bass, and his dog, and maybe a French horn or two - but no one who can fix the damn thing that’s worrying him in the first place. Don’t you worry, he’ll be okay in a day or two,” Pete reassured him, his hand sliding over his shoulder to comfort him.
“I’ll take your word,” Keith finally muttered. “I just hope you’re right. But you always are. You always do the right thing, Pete.” He set his empty beer can down and took Pete’s face into both of his hands. “You’ve got the prettiest eyes, know that?”
Pete swallowed and chuckled. “You’ve got the stupidest pick-up lines when drunk, but you know that.”
“Do now,” he joked, diving onto Pete’s lips with a deep kiss.
Keith broke off slowly, innocent eyes glinting with mischief as he tore Pete’s shirt off.
“Keith, what the hell do you think you’re-” His voice blurred into a groan as Keith began to rub him roughly through his boxers.
At once, his pants and boxers were tugged down and kicked to the floor, along with any resistance Pete still had.
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Pete moaned loudly into the bed, his hips frantically moving to Keith’s erratic rhythm, grinding himself madly against the mattress in hope of some release.
Keith tried to slow the pace one last time, but Pete was obviously not too keen on this idea.
“Move, dammit! Whaddya think you’re-? OH GOD YES!”
Pete was beginning to tense up, Keith could feel it. But it didn’t seem right, something was missing. Or maybe just somebody…
He slammed into Pete again, his mind a world away…
But he wasn’t the only one thinking of somebody else.
“Fuck! JOHN, oh fuck I’m gonna, oh John…” Pete swore angrily as he felt Keith’s warmth leave him right before he came. “John, where the fuck did you go?”
Keith was pulling on his pants hurriedly. He hadn’t finished, but he hadn’t needed to.
At least now the problem was solved, case closed. He just wasn’t sure if he was ready to face the results.
Pete looked confusedly at Keith, his pupils still dilated with lust. “What happened?”
“Doesn’t matter. See you tomorrow,” Keith muttered, heading down the stairs.
Pete groaned and followed after him, tying a shirt around his waist. “Wait!”
Keith hesitated at the empty door frame, frowning down at the knocked-down door.
“You called me ‘John’,” he said simply, and with that, he left Pete standing naked and alone.
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He set the keys down quietly and silently made his way into the bedroom, where John lay on the bed still fully awake, staring blankly at the wall.
“You slept with Pete,” Keith said calmly, making him jump in alarm.
John’s smile quickly faded as he took in Keith’s words.
It was better not to deny it. It’d cause a lot less pain and trouble for everyone that way. And he was planning on telling him anyways.
John sighed. “How did you…?”
“Just now, while I was fucking Pete, he called out your bleeding name, you bastard!” Keith slumped into the wall, looking like a hurt puppy.
John paused for a few seconds, a small smile spreading slowly on his lips. “You slept with him too, then?”
Keith’s head suddenly slammed back against the wall, his eyes wide in realization. “I’m such a prick.”
“At least you’re not a lying old sod like me,” John said darkly, smirking as he pat the bed next to him.
Keith slinked into his arms, and John held him there tightly for what seemed like years.
“What are we going to do now?” Keith muttered sadly against his chest.
“Well, we’re both quite literally ‘fucked,’ it seems,” he noted seriously. “Looks like there’s only one thing we can do…”
Keith was unable to look at him. Terror spread through his whole face. “Oh Johnny, please no! I can’t leave you, please, never!” he cried frantically.
John merely chuckled again, smiling gently at Keith’s big brown eyes.
Keith looked up at him uncertainly, and John ruffled his hair with a sigh.
“You. Me. Townshend. Threesome. Now,” he said gruffly, dragging Keith to the door by his shirt collar.