i put a spell over the west...
Story Title: Happily Ever After Below (And Above) The Waist
Story Type: Slash, AU
Characters: Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump, Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Ray Toro, Bob Bryar, Frankie Iero
Pairings: Pete/Patrick, Bob/Frankie, one-sided Pete/Mikey
Rating: PG-13/NC-17
Fandom: Bandom
Series: None
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I don't own anyone mentioned in this story, please don't sue me. I was going to say that if you got here by googling your own name, to hit the back button, but who am I kidding -if I found out people were writing stories about me and my friends, I would so read that shit.
Warnings: Slash, language, au, shapeshifting, magical realism, underage sexual shenagins (Patrick’s fifteen when the story starts), smut, fluff
Summary: “Shapeshifters,” Joe repeated slowly, clearly trying to wrap his mind around it. “What like werewolves?”
“Why is everyone obsessed with werewolves?” Patrick asked, irritated. “Christ, we're dragons, you jack ass. Not everything's like the movies.”
A/N:Here, it is, the second part. Enjoy, guys. Also, lj's messed up the formatting again. Grrrrrr.
Part 1
Part 2
Are we growing up or just going down? It's just a matter of time until we're all
found out. Take your tears and put them on ice 'cause I swear I'd burn down the city
just to show you the light.
Sophomore Slump Or Comeback Of The Year, Fall Out Boy
“Warped is going to be fucken insane,” Pete told them as he threw himself onto the couch, narrowly missing the empty cans of Redbull that were resting on the arm.
“We’ve heard it before, Pete,” Patrick told him and headed for the door that separated the lounge from the bus driver and the steps to go outside. “I’m going to go get some air,” he added over his shoulder.
Joe just waved him off from where he was trying to wake up, hunched over in a chair, but Pete jumped up -knocking over the cans this time- and followed him out.
Once they were outside, Pete rested his chin on Patrick’s shoulder and hummed contentedly; Patrick smiled slightly, resting his weight against Pete for a second.
They watched the techs and bands walk by, hurrying to get things settled before the first concert of the tour.
Patrick was just about to suggest they go see if craft services was set up when he felt it; that persistent itch along his spine that told him there were other shapeshifters near by, ones that he didn’t know.
Almost at the same time, Pete straightened up; he searched the people around them quickly before he met Patrick’s eyes. After a minute they both nodded and turned towards the other end of the parking lot.
*
They ran into each other just past were the merch tents were starting to go up.
There were three of them; Patrick squinted and then said, soft enough so only Pete could hear him, “Son of bitch. Looks like My Chemical Romance is part of the club.”
Pete snickered before he turned back to face the other shapeshifters. He inhaled softly, catching the scents on the wind. Snow and the bone deep cold of winter, sweat and coffee, the sharp tang of unhappiness, mixed with other scents from the people still milling around them. And under it all was the strong scent he had found at his house and Patrick’s, at his grandparents.
“You’re dragons,” Gerard said in disbelief, looking them over.
Patrick noticed that Mikey was watching Pete with avid interest; he let himself smirk a little. Mikey wasn’t the first one to look at his mate that way and Patrick knew he wouldn’t be the last. He met Mikey’s guilty eyes while Pete introduced them. He knew his amusement was obvious; what did it matter if people looked at Pete, wanted him? Pete was his, always would be, and everyone knew it.
“Fire dragons,” Pete was saying, his voice as smug as it always was over that little fact. “I’m Pete and this is Patrick, my mate,” he went on, his hand circling Patrick’s wrist with the ease of familiarity; he stepped forward a little more, bringing Patrick with him.
“Jesus, Pete, I can walk over there on my own, you know,” Patrick said dryly; but he made no move to untangle himself and when Pete turned and grinned at him, Patrick smiled back, his affection for Pete obvious.
Gerard moved closer, keeping his voice low enough so that the humans wouldn’t overhear them.
“We should go somewhere we can talk -one of our buses, maybe?”
“Ours,” Patrick answered, his voice firm; Pete raised an eyebrow at the tone but didn’t comment on it. Patrick didn’t bother telling Pete what he probably already guessed; Patrick wanted this first meeting between them to be on their home turf -his instincts were practically demanding it. Making them go to their bus made them submit to Patrick’s wishes and whether or not they consciously understood it, that put Patrick as dominant over them.
Dominance games were rarely something Patrick ever bothered with, but when he had to play them, he came out on top.
“Only Joe and Andy are on the bus this early,” he went on. “And they already know about us, so there’s no worries about someone overhearing.”
“That sounds good,” Gerard agreed; he ran his hands through his hair and shared a look with his brother for a minute before Mikey shrugged and looked away.
“Yeah, whatever,” Mikey said, his voice even.
Gerard glanced at Bob, who nodded and said, “Yeah, that’s alright.”
“Awesome,” Pete beamed, clearly happy to be hanging out with new shapeshifters. “Come on, we’re back this way.”
He turned to go but kept his grip on Patrick’s wrist. Patrick smiled; Pete liked to make his “ownership” of Patrick clear to any new shifters they happened to run into and ended up spending time with. It only happened twice before over the past few years, but Pete was predictable about some things.
Patrick was a lot less subtle -he usually just made sure Pete had visible bruises or bite marks. He didn’t like any confusion when it came to who Pete belonged to.
*
Joe looked up blearily from the chair he was still collapsed in. He eyed up everyone before he spoke. “Jesus, you found more? Wasn’t that clusterfuck in Minnesota enough for you?”
“Fuck off, Trohman,” Patrick told him and flipped him off. “That jackass deserved it. Besides, that was last year -let it go already.
“This is Gerard, Mikey and Bob. Guys, Joe.”
“Hey,” Joe said, waving a little. “Aren’t you guys in that band? The one with that song,” he hummed a few notes from Vampires Will Never Hurt You.
“Yeah, that’s us,” Gerard answered with a small smile.
“Good times,” Joe commented, standing up and wincing a little. “Fuck, my head.”
“Told you to stay away from the tequila,” Pete reminded him unsympathetically. “It always fucks you up.”
“Yes, thank you, asshole,” Joe spit out, but there wasn’t any real anger behind the words. “Alright, I’m going to try and find some fucken coffee; Andy went to go get some of his vegan crap at the store.
“Fuck, I hope Dirty has some aspirin.”
*
“We’ve never seen any other dragons,” Pete said from his spot next to Patrick on the couch; Gerard was on Patrick’s other side while Mikey was in the chair and Bob was leaning against the wall across from them.
“A few wolves, even a bear or two,” Pete went on, grinning at Bob who smiled back. “Oh, and those two panthers, remember ‘Trick?”
“Yeah, that mom and her kid,” Patrick agreed. “In southern California, I think.”
“But no dragons, except for our families. It’s awesome running into you guys. What kind of dragons are you, anyway?”
“Ice dragons,” Gerard answered, after exchanging a bemused look with his brother.
“It’s definitely going to be an interesting summer,” Patrick mused.
*
“Fuck,” Pete panted, straining up against the hold Patrick had on his wrists. “Damn it, Patrick, let me move. Please.”
The last word was spit out desperately and it made Patrick smirk as he lazily rolled his hips. He knew it wasn’t doing anything except teasing Pete. He shifted both of Pete’s wrists to his right hand and ran the fingertips of his left along the length of Pete’s cock.
“What’s wrong?” Patrick asked mockingly, his voice low.
He dipped his fingers underneath Pete’s balls to press against where they were connected. Pete mewled and tried to open his legs even farther.
“Come on, Pete,” Patrick murmured, running his thumb along where Pete was being stretched by his dick. “Use your words and tell me what you want.”
“Motherfucker, would you just fuck me already,” Pete hissed out, pushed to his limit; his dick ached, it felt like he had been hard for hours and he just wanted to get off, some friction, anything.
Patrick looked at Pete, his lips twisted in a devious smirk that made Pete shudder. He moved his hands to the inside of Pete’s thighs and pushed them up and apart.
“Was that so tough?”
Before Pete could do more than open his mouth, Patrick pulled out and then slammed into him as hard as he could.
“Patrick,” Pete managed to gasp, his breath cut off; there was nothing like the first thrust of a good, hard fuck.
It was rough and fast and hard and had Pete babbling like an idiot in a matter of minutes.
“Fuck, Patrick, that’s perfect, you’re perfect, harder, pleasepleaseplease,” Pete begged as he wrapped a hand around his dick.
“Mine,” Patrick growled, his eyes flashing yellow as he continued to pound into his mate’s body. “Mine.”
“Yes, fuck,” Pete moaned, his head falling back onto the pillow, his body tense as he came all over his stomach. “Yours, always.”
Patrick growled again, dropping Pete’s legs and burying his face in Pete’s neck. He only lasted a couple more thrusts before he came, biting down on Pete’s neck.
“Holy shit, Lunchbox, that’s way better than what I had planned,” Pete said as he nuzzled Patrick’s face affectionately.
Patrick pushed up onto his elbows and took in his mate’s flushed face and heavy lidded eyes smugly. “Yeah? What was it?”
“I was just going to see if you wanted to come to the movies with me and Mikey,” Pete answered, absent-mindedly running his hands over Patrick’s back and sides. “I didn’t even get a chance to ask you before you jumped me.
“Which, by the way, is definitely how you should start answering all my questions, Jesus fuck.”
Patrick snorted and moved off of him to lay on his back. “That might cause some problems if we’re on stage, jackass.”
“Come on, man, you know our fans are a bunch of perverts; they’d love it and then beg for more,” Pete smirked and Patrick rolled his eyes; only Pete would be proud of having dirty-minded fans.
“So, you wanna come with? We’re going to see the new Owen Wilson movie.”
“Nah, not in the mood,” Patrick answered as he stretched and covered his eyes with his arm; he didn’t mention that he didn’t want to ruin his good mood by watching Mikey make fuck me eyes at Pete. He knew Pete would never do anything, but it always annoyed him and he was feeling too good to deal with that right now. “I’m just gonna hang out and try to get some work done, maybe see if Joe wants to play some video games later.”
“Sounds good,” Pete got up and started hunting around for his pants; he turned to ask Patrick and stopped what he was doing. The sight of his mate sprawled on the hotel bed, all that pale skin on display that Patrick usually kept covered up in layers of clothes, it made him reconsider what he was doing for the afternoon. Patrick’s legs dropped open as if he was aware of Pete’s thoughts.
Pete walked over to the bed and crawled in between Patrick’s thighs and bit one of them. Patrick let out a startled moan and pushed himself up so he could look at Pete’s face. “I thought you were going out.”
“Fuck it,” Pete rasped out as he nibbled and bit his way up to Patrick’s neck -pausing to mouth at the head of his dick before pulling back and continuing up, smirking- and sucked a bruise where his pulse was just starting to pound. He pulled away and drank in the sight of the red mark that would start edging over into black and blue soon. And, yeah, he had definitely found something better to do with his day.
“Let Mikey go by himself, I’m busy.”
*
A few days later, Patrick was in craft services, eating a sandwich and trying to figure out a melody that had been bothering him, when Frankie slipped into the seat across from him.
“Hey,” Patrick said, a little surprised; he had heard Frankie coming this way but had assumed he was going to sit at another table. While all the bands on Warped intermingled a great deal, people usually left him alone when he had a notebook with him. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” Frank answered, opening up one of the three Red Bulls he brought over along with his sandwich and some chips. “Gee and Ray are geeking out over lyrics for the next album, Bob’s off being all broody and shit and Mikey’s still trying to fuck -uh, I mean..” Frankie trailed off with a grimace and chugged his energy drink.
“Pete? Yeah, I’m aware of Mikey’s delusions,” Patrick said dryly. “I’m not going to start yelling at you or anything, man.”
Frankie shrugged but he relaxed a little. “I told Mikey to stop being a douche, but he’s a stubborn bitch sometimes. I mean, Gee told me about how you guys are, whatever -”
“Mates,” Patrick supplied, amused despite himself.
“Yeah, that,” Frankie went on, waving his hands around while he was talking. “And how it’s, like being married and shit and I told Mikey how scuzzy trying to fuck someone else’s husband is, but does that jackass ever listen to me? No, of course not.”
“How many of those have you had already?” Patrick wondered as Frank opened another can and downed half of it before looking at him again.
“Shit, I don’t know -a few?” Frank guessed and shrugged again before digging into his food.
Patrick shook his head and went back to his notebook, jotting down ideas as he absentmindedly ate the rest of his sandwich.
He was just finishing off his soda when he caught Bob’s scent; clean air, fresh grass and the musty smell of fur. And underneath it was the sharp scent of unhappiness that always seemed to surround the bear shifter.
“Hey, guys,” Bob said as he slid into the seat next to Frank.
“Bobert!” Frankie crowed and leaned over to give him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “You decided to leave off with the pissiness and come hang out!”
“Get off of me, Iero,” Bob growled, but there was no menace to the words and when he looked at Frankie there was something about it that reminded Patrick of the way he looked at Pete.
Huh, Patrick thought to himself. That explains a lot.
Later on, after Frankie had finished his food and wandered back off, Patrick looked at Bob with understanding.
“Why don’t you tell him?” He asked quietly, making sure none of the humans walking around would be able to hear him.
“There’s no point,” Bob said; for a brief minute he looked miserable, as unhappy as his scent suggested he was. “He’s straight and he’s never even looked at me with anything other than friendship.”
“He’s been around shifters his whole life, Bob,” Patrick argued, remembering what Gerard had said about him growing up down the street from him and Mikey. “I’m sure if you explained it to him -”
“Look,” Bob interrupted, his voice low and intense. “Even Gerard and Mikey don’t understand it -their parents aren’t mated. Yeah, they’re both shapeshifters, but they met and fell in love like humans do Why do you think Mikey keeps hitting on Pete? He has no concept of the way you and Pete are tied together; he doesn’t get that Pete’s just being nice to him, that he only wants to be friends.
“I tried to tell him, but he blew me off, told me that it was bullshit. And if a fucken shapeshifter won’t listen, what the hell makes you think a human will?”
Patrick drummed his fingers on the table and sighed. “You could at least try; maybe he’ll surprise you.”
“Or maybe he’ll be so freaked out, he’ll run as far away from me as possible,” Bob said darkly. “I can’t take the chance, OK? Even just being friends is better than him halfway across the country and afraid of me; I couldn’t stand that.
“And don’t say anything to anyone, please? I mean, I know you’ll tell Pete, but just not anyone else.”
Patrick agreed reluctantly; he still thought Bob should say something to Frank, but he respected the other shifter’s wishes on it.
*
“Frank and Bob,” Pete mused, later on that night; he was stretched out on the sofa with Patrick next to him. “I can see that, I guess. But Bob should at least say something to him.”
“Yeah,” Patrick agreed and traced the tattoo along Pete’s collarbone; he was warm and sated, his clothes tossed haphazardly around the lounge, laying down with his mate, their legs intertwined and he couldn’t imagine not doing whatever it took to be able to do this whenever he wanted. He turned his head and inhaled his mate’s scent before he closed his eyes.
Pete ran a hand down Patrick’s back and left it around his waist; he felt relaxed, maybe enough to sleep for an hour or two.
“Wake me when you get up?” Patrick mumbled, already almost asleep. “Need to get clothes on before anyone gets up.”
Pete squeezed him in agreement and then shut his eyes, ready to get whatever sleep he could for the night.
*
“Hey, you,” Pete greeted as he stumbled onto the My Chemical Romance bus behind Frankie and Mikey; all three of them were covered in the remnants of silly string and shaving cream.
“Hey,” Patrick repeated, amused; he was sitting next to Ray, discussing guitars and their favorites. “Do I even want to know?”
“Probably not,” Pete answered cheerfully; he flung himself next to Patrick, ending up half on his lap and half on the couch. “And stay away from Bill and those guys, they might be a little, uh, pissed off right now.”
“Torosaurus! What’s up?” Frank said, squeezing into the small space between Ray and the end of the couch. “I thought Gee was gonna keep you chained in here for the whole tour.”
“Just because I don’t run around as insane as you doesn’t mean anything,” Ray said, chuckling a little. “But I need to go call Christy and then I have to try and fix that guitar clip in the new demo. Talk to you later, guys.”
Ray waved to everyone and ducked around Bob who had come in the lounge, woken up from his nap by the noise.
Mikey went to sit next to Pete and stopped when he heard a low noise come from Patrick. Pete looked up, surprised by the sound as well as the way his mate’s jaw was clenched. “You, OK, ‘Trick?” He
asked, concerned.
Patrick didn’t answer but he kept his eyes on Mikey. Mikey glared at him and moved to sit again; this time there was no mistaking the sound that came from Patrick as anything other than a possessive growl. Patrick tensed up and it was obvious he was close to losing it.
“Hey, babe, come on,” Pete said, sitting up and placing his hand on the side of Patrick’s face. “He’s just a friend, that’s all.”
“Bob,” Frankie said quietly, his eyes darting in between Mikey -who still refused to move- and Patrick, who’s growling had started rising in volume. “What do we do?”
Bob felt a rush of pride that his mate had looked to him for protection, but he pushed it to the side; he needed to diffuse this situation before Mikey ended up in the hospital.
He walked over and started dragging Mikey across the room, despite his protests; Patrick’s eyes carefully tracked his progress.
“Stop it, Bob,” Mikey hissed, trying -and failing- to free himself. “I’m not afraid of him.”
“Then you’re a fucken idiot,” Bob told him bluntly. “And a bigger one than I thought.
“Frankie, move over and sit next to Patrick. Trust me,” he added softly when Frank hesitated. Frankie took a deep breath and cautiously moved over. Bob sat down next to Frankie and shoved Mikey in between him and the arm of the couch. Patrick relaxed and turned into the hand Pete still had on his face and inhaled his mate’s scent.
“Pete,” he said, his voice rough. “I - Mine.”
Pete shivered at the tone, heat starting to pool in his stomach and curl along his spine. “Yeah, I am,” he breathed out and leaned in for a quick kiss. Bob looked pained as the scent of arousal started filling the lounge; Mikey just looked aggravated.
Pete stood up and didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye before Patrick grabbed his hand and they were out the door.
“I feel bad for whoever’s on their bus,” Bob said with a snicker; he was pretty amused by the whole thing now that they were out of immediate danger. “They’re about to get treated to a very loud, free show.”
Mikey frowned at Frankie who was giggling at the idea. “Damn it, Bob, why did you move me? I could have -”
“Gotten hospitalized,” Bob finished for him and raised an eyebrow when Mikey scoffed. “You’re playing with fire, Mikey -”
“Literally,” Frankie added seriously.
“One of these days, Patrick’s going to get tired of just warning you away from Pete and he’s going to beat the shit out of you. You need to stop trying to get into Pete’s pants -he’s never going to leave Patrick; more, he’s never going to want to leave him. And he’s sure as hell not going to let you put your hands on him.”
“Whatever,” Mikey said, going into the back by the bunks and crawling into his. He gave into the
desire to brood and figure out the next step in this thing between him and Pete.
*
“Dude, it’ll be awesome,” Pete said as he took a bite of his burger; they were in a McDonald’s with the rest of the guys, plus Mikey, getting lunch before the meet and greets started. “Mikey’s gonna come onstage during Saturday,” he added, spewing crumbs and pieces of meat all over the table.
Patrick made a non-committal noise and met Mikey’s eyes; he stared back and let a smug smirk twist his lips before his customary blank look was back in place. Patrick raised an eyebrow; if Mikey wanted to play these games, he was more than happy to oblige, but he knew Mikey wouldn’t like the results.
*
Pete finished the last note, and listened to the crowd scream themselves hoarse, before turning to go.
Mikey had already handed off Pete’s bass to the waiting tech and slung his arm around Pete’s shoulders; Pete grinned at him, flushed with the success of a good show.
They were nearly offstage when Mikey turned and nuzzled Pete’s face and bit his jaw before pulling back; Pete shoved him back a step and hissed out, “What the fuck, Mikey?”
He went to say more but he saw Patrick standing in the shadows, a pissed off look on his face. “Fuck. God damn it, Mikey, do you ever fucken listen? Look, I’m going to go talk to my mate,” he stressed the two words, scowling darkly. “But don’t think I’m done being pissed at you about this.”
He stalked off towards his mate, hesitating when he was in front of Patrick. “’Trick, I didn’t know he was going to do that, I never would have let him.”
“I know.”
It was said quietly, but with unshakable belief and it made Pete’s shoulders sag in relief. Patrick’s hand circled his wrist and tightened before he turned to walk away and tugged Pete after him. Pete followed willingly enough even if he wasn’t quite sure what was going on.
They went past the tents and kept going until they were weaving through the tour buses; they stopped, but before Pete could say anything, Patrick pushed him against the nearest bus and nosed along his neck and jaw.
“You smell like him,” Patrick growled, scraping his teeth along Pete’s jawline and then biting down roughly on his neck. “You’re mine, Pete. Mine.”
“Yes,” Pete moaned as Patrick scraped his nails down his sides, underneath the shirt he had worn onstage. He could hear people milling around, could hear them talking and drinking, and part of his brain was telling him to shut up and be quiet so no one would come investigate, but the rest of him was too busy with the feel and scent and touch of his mate to be bothered with anything else.
Patrick dropped to his knees and nuzzled Pete’s denim clad erection before he looked up at him, his eyes starting to bleed over into yellow; Pete knew his own eyes were changing, too.
“Come on, Pete,” Patrick said, his fingers making quick work of Pete’s belt and jeans. He shoved Pete’s pants down to mid-thigh before he licked his way back up. “I know you’re louder than that,” a quick nip to his inner thigh, “I want to be able to hear you,” a sucking bite placed just above his hipbone; where everyone would be able to see it whenever his shirt moved. “I want everyone around to hear you and to know that I’m the one making you fall apart.”
“Fuck me,” Pete said, his voice shaking as Patrick dug his fingers into his ass hard enough to bruise.
“Maybe next time,” Patrick promised darkly before he sucked the head of Pete’s dick into his mouth.
Pete moaned, his head slamming back onto the bus he was pressed against; he fisted his hands in Patrick’s hair, knocking Patrick’s hat off, unable to stop the way his hips jerked up and shoved his dick farther down Patrick’s throat.
“Shit, sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to, please don't stop,” Pete babbled, pulling back. Patrick just hummed in encouragement, his hands urging Pete to do it again. Pete moaned again, holding Patrick’s head still while he fucked into Patrick’s mouth with deep strokes. Patrick had to sing tomorrow and Pete knew his voice would be husky, rough, all day and night; people would hear it, and the idea that everyone they knew would hear Patrick talk and know that Pete had put that rasp there, it was enough to make him black out.
When Pete opened his eyes, Patrick was pulling off of his spent cock; a darkly possessive look in his eyes when he got to his feet and claimed Pete’s mouth in a rough kiss.
Pete made an eager noise, opening his mouth and tasting himself on his mate’s tongue; he managed to get Patrick’s pants open enough to fit his hand around Patrick’s dick.
“Fuck,” Patrick panted, his fingers gripping Pete’s shoulders as he thrusted into Pete’s hand. “He bit you, that’s, fuck,” he whined as his mate’s hand tightened around his dick. “That’s mine, you’re mine, all of you, and no one else is allowed,” Patrick gasped out, spilling all over Pete’s hand.
“Yes, yours,” Pete said, stroking him through the aftershocks. “Only yours and you’re mine. No one else matters. No one else ever will.”
Patrick pulled away and caught Pete’s lips for deep kiss before Pete pulled his hand out and Patrick felt his dick give a desperate twitch as Pete licked his fingers clean.
“Jesus fuck, Pete, I’m not in high school any more, I can’t go again that fast,” Patrick groused as they got their pants situated and Patrick snagged his hat off the ground and set it back on his head.
“Bullshit,” Pete laughed, sliding his arm around Patrick’s waist as they turned to go. “Just yesterday you went twice in an hour.”
Patrick smirked but before he could say anything, they stepped out from behind the bus to a chorus of shouts and wolf whistles.
“Holy fuck, Wentz,” Frankie called from over by his bus; he was sharing a cigarette with Bob and he looked impressed. “You’ve got some fucken lungs on you.”
“Guess we really should have figured you for a screamer,” Bob added, amused.
“Fuck off,” Pete yelled, but he was grinning and his lazy, good mood was obvious to everyone. “I wasn’t that loud -was I, babe?”
He turned to look at Patrick who was practically radiating smugness despite the slight blush on his face. “You pretty much were, Pete -you kind of started yelling towards the end.”
“Whatever,” Pete snickered, flipping everyone off. “You’re all just a bunch of jealous bitches.”
“Oh, yeah,” Andy said dryly and rolled his eyes; he was sober but he was probably the one beside them and Gerard who were. “Seeing your ass all those times pushed me over the edge.”
Patrick smirked again and started steering Pete towards their bus; he caught Mikey’s eyes from where he was half hidden in the shadows of his band’s bus.
Patrick raised an eyebrow; See? He’s mine and he always will be.
Mikey looked away first and Patrick hoped he got the idea.
*
part two