Pete Wentz Is The Only Reason We're Together [1/?]
Title: Pete Wentz Is The Only Reason We're Together
Author: ellenblews
Rating: Overall NC-17, but this is like, PG.
Pairing: Joe Trohman/Ray Toro, others will pop up.
POV: Third, Joe-centric.
Summary:
Disclaimer: This isn't real. If you got here by Googling yourself/your bandmates, turn back. If you're Mr. Hurley, STOP LJING YOUR BANDMATES. THAT'S JUST CREEPY.
Beta: dudethatssanti
Author Notes: This is the ridiculously tiny first part. Chapters get longer.
Joe frowned as he pulled up to his and Marie's home and saw Pete's car in the driveway. He shrugged, assuming the man had come to try and talk himself around the notion of leaving the band. Joe parked the car and pulled the keys out of the ignition. Stepping out of the vehicle, he whistled and twirled the keys around his finger, pushing on the door to his house. He frowned when it didn't give way; he and Marie almost always left the door unlocked. Joe unlocked the door to the sound of a loud moan erupting from somewhere upstairs. Confused, and already angry, as he had a decent idea of what was going on, Joe took the stairs two at a time and cracked open his bedroom door. There were definitely two people in his bed, and they were definitely doing the dirty, as Dirty would say. He heard a gasp that, even then, went straight to his dick. He'd know that gasp anywhere; it was Marie's. Pushing the door open further still, he saw a tan, tattooed arm holding itself up.
Joe couldn't remember exactly what happened after that, but the next thing he knew, his best friend and fiancée had left the house, and his knuckles were throbbing like a bitch. He shook himself and rubbed his hand down his face, sighing. His phone rang next to him, and the opening to The Smiths' 'Charming Man' sliced through the silence. Sighing again, Joe picked it up, looked at the screen, and threw it on to the bed when he saw it was Pete calling. After a moment of deliberation, Joe picked up his phone and wiped it cautiously on his jeans. Sticking the offending object in his back pocket, he yanked the sheets off his bed and carted them to the laundry room. Even at a time like this, Joe's germaphobia couldn't be stopped. Sighing again, Joe needed to get out of the house, and turned on his phone to see that he already had 7 missed calls. 5 were from Pete, and one from Marie. Joe ignored all of those, and flicked to the last call. It was Patrick. Shrugging, Joe listened to the voicemail and called the man back.