BS: P/P: PG: Deprivation
Title: Deprivation
Author: Gibson_fic
Fandom: Bandslash, Fall Out Boy
Characters/Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: PG for language
Disclaimer: This is a fictional story about characters based, in part, on the images and histories of real people. If that bothers you and/or you are one of those people, you probably don't want to read this. No harm is intended; no profit is being made.
Word Count: ~1300
Universe: This is loosely in the same universe as On The Necks Of Best Friends. I call this the Touching ‘Verse.
Summary: “Right now, when there’s more than two thousand miles between them and neither of them is really sleeping and certainly not anything that could be considered restful, well Patrick can see why the McCartney’s never slept apart.”
Author's Notes: This is part something I’ve been working on, part characters I can’t walk away from, part fevered inspiration and part apology. It’s for reni_days who asked me almost a year ago how Pete and Patrick handled being apart.
This is unbetad. All mistakes are my own. I appreciate comments of all kinds, including critical.
Patrick hated doing interviews alone. Especially now. It’s not as though he didn’t expect to get questions about Pete, about him and Pete, but he’d perhaps naively thought that those would be some of the questions, not all of them. The guy across from him was fairly typical, from some music website and looking for a story, for something to set him apart, to increase their...did they call it circulation on websites? Patrick wasn’t sure.
“Mr. Stump?”
“Patrick.” It was reflexive, Patrick was barely aware he was saying it, but it brought him back to himself.
“Yes, well, as I was asking, where is Pete today?”
Patrick wanted to ask the guy where his boyfriend, or girlfriend, whatever, was today. Probably, like Pete, he was at work. Patrick can’t help that today, this week, for the next two weeks actually, work meant Pete was in LA and he was in New York.
Pete couldn’t help it either.
“He’s in LA, working with the label.”
The interviewer’s eyes flashed, “And you’re here producing, right?”
“Yes. The new Cobra Starship album, it’s going to be great.”
“That must be hard for you. Being apart like that.”
“Well, it’s not easy, but we’ve had to do it before.”
He’s able to change the topic, to get off the subject of Pete and the distance between them and if his somewhat blithe responses aren’t entirely truthful, well the only people who’d know already have a fair idea how much Pete and he hate to be apart.
~~
It’s ironic really. Patrick never thought he’d be the clingy type. The having to be to be together every day type, but Pete handles these separations better than he does. Though, Pete says it’s because he’s used to it, because he barely knows what it’s like to get a decent night’s sleep, even now that he’s sleeping better than he has in years. Patrick though, he’s never really had trouble sleeping. He’s only had trouble sleeping on any sort of regular basis since he started sleeping with Pete. That’s a fair trade though.
He’d happily give up sleep to be sure that Pete was getting some--meeting in the middle, compromising, finding some way to come together. That’s how it’s always been for them; he didn’t really expect this to be any different. But that only works when they’re together, when they’re still sleeping.
Right now, when there’s more than two thousand miles between them and neither of them is really sleeping and certainly not anything that could be considered restful, well Patrick can see why the McCartney’s never slept apart. Pete’s been talking about being an unreasonable dick and refusing to schedule things if it means they can’t be together at the end of the day. Patrick’s been resisting him, but now, rubbing a hand across his gritty eyes, he’s beginning to think the idea has merit. Certainly neither one of them is worth a dime right now. Patrick can barely even focus on the computer in his lap.
There are two thousand four hundred and forty-five miles and four time zones separating them (Pete sent him a text earlier, the miles were broken down into hundredths) and there is nothing that is okay about how he feels right now.
His phone rings and he answers without looking at it, “You should be at dinner right now.”
“Love you too, honey. Yes, my day was wonderful. How nice of you to ask.”
“Dick. You know I love you and I know your day isn’t going according to plan because you’re calling me and I know you’re supposed to be at dinner right now.”
“Yeah, well, about that. I told Island that unless they wanted another Lennon/McCartney situation, they had to let me do things my way.”
“If it’s a Lennon/McCartney situation, shouldn’t you be telling me that? Also who am I supposed to be in this? Aren’t we more Taupin/John?"
“’Trick. Only you would get caught in the semantics. The point is, I haven’t slept in six days and you haven’t either. Not really. Also, please don’t scream. My head already hurts.”
Patrick was still trying to puzzle that one out, when he saw his door start to open and knew instantly what Pete had done. He flipped his phone closed, saying, “Some poor receptionist is going to get fired tomorrow for giving out unauthorized keys.”
“Patrick, you wouldn’t really punish some poor girl for caving in the face of true overwhelming love now would you?”
“No, but I might for letting some scary-looking unwashed dude into my hotel room.”
Pete grinned, “Whatever, you know you love me.”
“Yeah, I love you, but don’t think I’m letting you into this bed until you’ve showered, so you might want to do that now. Seeing as how I’m going to sleep now and all.”
“There’s my favorite person--so happy to see the dude that flew across a hemisphere to see him that he doesn’t even kiss him before rushing him into the shower.” Pete stalked toward him as he said it, a mischievous look on his face.
“Okay, fine. Come and get your kiss and then shower. Fuck, it’s not like you’re going to take long, I know you’re not actually going to wash your hair or anything.”
Pete laughed and then slid his mouth over Patrick’s leaning over him, bracing one hand on the headboard and using the other to steady the computer. Patrick opened his mouth immediately, kissing Pete deeply and then he pulled back, said, “I missed you. Now, hurry up.”
Pete grinned again and went into the bathroom, grabbing the overnight case he’d left by the door on the way.
Patrick saved his work and shut the Mac. By the time he’d gotten the lights turned off and the computer safely set aside, Pete was turning off the water. Dude could take the fastest showers in the history of indoor plumbing. Patrick thought that the next time he got a bee in his bonnet about a record, that’s what he should try for, it was a guaranteed success.
Pete came out of the bathroom in a pair of boxer-briefs, toweling at his hair and flashed a smile Patrick could see even in the dim light coming from the window, then he launched himself at the bed, landing half on Patrick.
“I missed you!” he said settling his wet head on Patrick’s shoulder, one arm under him and the other sprawled across Patrick’s chest, one leg hooked over Patrick’s own. Patrick had no doubt if he tried to move right now Pete would latch on to him like a monkey and refuse to let go.
That was actually okay with him.
“I missed you too. Did you get any sleep at all?”
“Not really.”
“Yeah.”
“I wasn’t kidding you know. I told them that we had to be together.”
“Pete, we mostly set our own schedules.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m telling you too.” He paused, wiggling closer. Patrick could already feel the pull of too many sleepless nights weighing him down, tugging down his eyelids.
“There ought to be some perks to being famous and if I have to play the asshole card to get them, I will.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Patrick could feel Pete smiling against his chest. His hands tightened against Patrick then he said, “We’re going to sleep now. Then you’re going to make sweet, sweet love to me, then we’re going to sleep some more.”
Patrick laughed, “Right.” He tightened his arms around Pete, feeling centered again, then closed his eyes.
There were worse things to use their fame for than a good night’s sleep.
FIN
Author: Gibson_fic
Fandom: Bandslash, Fall Out Boy
Characters/Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: PG for language
Disclaimer: This is a fictional story about characters based, in part, on the images and histories of real people. If that bothers you and/or you are one of those people, you probably don't want to read this. No harm is intended; no profit is being made.
Word Count: ~1300
Universe: This is loosely in the same universe as On The Necks Of Best Friends. I call this the Touching ‘Verse.
Summary: “Right now, when there’s more than two thousand miles between them and neither of them is really sleeping and certainly not anything that could be considered restful, well Patrick can see why the McCartney’s never slept apart.”
Author's Notes: This is part something I’ve been working on, part characters I can’t walk away from, part fevered inspiration and part apology. It’s for reni_days who asked me almost a year ago how Pete and Patrick handled being apart.
This is unbetad. All mistakes are my own. I appreciate comments of all kinds, including critical.
Patrick hated doing interviews alone. Especially now. It’s not as though he didn’t expect to get questions about Pete, about him and Pete, but he’d perhaps naively thought that those would be some of the questions, not all of them. The guy across from him was fairly typical, from some music website and looking for a story, for something to set him apart, to increase their...did they call it circulation on websites? Patrick wasn’t sure.
“Mr. Stump?”
“Patrick.” It was reflexive, Patrick was barely aware he was saying it, but it brought him back to himself.
“Yes, well, as I was asking, where is Pete today?”
Patrick wanted to ask the guy where his boyfriend, or girlfriend, whatever, was today. Probably, like Pete, he was at work. Patrick can’t help that today, this week, for the next two weeks actually, work meant Pete was in LA and he was in New York.
Pete couldn’t help it either.
“He’s in LA, working with the label.”
The interviewer’s eyes flashed, “And you’re here producing, right?”
“Yes. The new Cobra Starship album, it’s going to be great.”
“That must be hard for you. Being apart like that.”
“Well, it’s not easy, but we’ve had to do it before.”
He’s able to change the topic, to get off the subject of Pete and the distance between them and if his somewhat blithe responses aren’t entirely truthful, well the only people who’d know already have a fair idea how much Pete and he hate to be apart.
~~
It’s ironic really. Patrick never thought he’d be the clingy type. The having to be to be together every day type, but Pete handles these separations better than he does. Though, Pete says it’s because he’s used to it, because he barely knows what it’s like to get a decent night’s sleep, even now that he’s sleeping better than he has in years. Patrick though, he’s never really had trouble sleeping. He’s only had trouble sleeping on any sort of regular basis since he started sleeping with Pete. That’s a fair trade though.
He’d happily give up sleep to be sure that Pete was getting some--meeting in the middle, compromising, finding some way to come together. That’s how it’s always been for them; he didn’t really expect this to be any different. But that only works when they’re together, when they’re still sleeping.
Right now, when there’s more than two thousand miles between them and neither of them is really sleeping and certainly not anything that could be considered restful, well Patrick can see why the McCartney’s never slept apart. Pete’s been talking about being an unreasonable dick and refusing to schedule things if it means they can’t be together at the end of the day. Patrick’s been resisting him, but now, rubbing a hand across his gritty eyes, he’s beginning to think the idea has merit. Certainly neither one of them is worth a dime right now. Patrick can barely even focus on the computer in his lap.
There are two thousand four hundred and forty-five miles and four time zones separating them (Pete sent him a text earlier, the miles were broken down into hundredths) and there is nothing that is okay about how he feels right now.
His phone rings and he answers without looking at it, “You should be at dinner right now.”
“Love you too, honey. Yes, my day was wonderful. How nice of you to ask.”
“Dick. You know I love you and I know your day isn’t going according to plan because you’re calling me and I know you’re supposed to be at dinner right now.”
“Yeah, well, about that. I told Island that unless they wanted another Lennon/McCartney situation, they had to let me do things my way.”
“If it’s a Lennon/McCartney situation, shouldn’t you be telling me that? Also who am I supposed to be in this? Aren’t we more Taupin/John?"
“’Trick. Only you would get caught in the semantics. The point is, I haven’t slept in six days and you haven’t either. Not really. Also, please don’t scream. My head already hurts.”
Patrick was still trying to puzzle that one out, when he saw his door start to open and knew instantly what Pete had done. He flipped his phone closed, saying, “Some poor receptionist is going to get fired tomorrow for giving out unauthorized keys.”
“Patrick, you wouldn’t really punish some poor girl for caving in the face of true overwhelming love now would you?”
“No, but I might for letting some scary-looking unwashed dude into my hotel room.”
Pete grinned, “Whatever, you know you love me.”
“Yeah, I love you, but don’t think I’m letting you into this bed until you’ve showered, so you might want to do that now. Seeing as how I’m going to sleep now and all.”
“There’s my favorite person--so happy to see the dude that flew across a hemisphere to see him that he doesn’t even kiss him before rushing him into the shower.” Pete stalked toward him as he said it, a mischievous look on his face.
“Okay, fine. Come and get your kiss and then shower. Fuck, it’s not like you’re going to take long, I know you’re not actually going to wash your hair or anything.”
Pete laughed and then slid his mouth over Patrick’s leaning over him, bracing one hand on the headboard and using the other to steady the computer. Patrick opened his mouth immediately, kissing Pete deeply and then he pulled back, said, “I missed you. Now, hurry up.”
Pete grinned again and went into the bathroom, grabbing the overnight case he’d left by the door on the way.
Patrick saved his work and shut the Mac. By the time he’d gotten the lights turned off and the computer safely set aside, Pete was turning off the water. Dude could take the fastest showers in the history of indoor plumbing. Patrick thought that the next time he got a bee in his bonnet about a record, that’s what he should try for, it was a guaranteed success.
Pete came out of the bathroom in a pair of boxer-briefs, toweling at his hair and flashed a smile Patrick could see even in the dim light coming from the window, then he launched himself at the bed, landing half on Patrick.
“I missed you!” he said settling his wet head on Patrick’s shoulder, one arm under him and the other sprawled across Patrick’s chest, one leg hooked over Patrick’s own. Patrick had no doubt if he tried to move right now Pete would latch on to him like a monkey and refuse to let go.
That was actually okay with him.
“I missed you too. Did you get any sleep at all?”
“Not really.”
“Yeah.”
“I wasn’t kidding you know. I told them that we had to be together.”
“Pete, we mostly set our own schedules.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m telling you too.” He paused, wiggling closer. Patrick could already feel the pull of too many sleepless nights weighing him down, tugging down his eyelids.
“There ought to be some perks to being famous and if I have to play the asshole card to get them, I will.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Patrick could feel Pete smiling against his chest. His hands tightened against Patrick then he said, “We’re going to sleep now. Then you’re going to make sweet, sweet love to me, then we’re going to sleep some more.”
Patrick laughed, “Right.” He tightened his arms around Pete, feeling centered again, then closed his eyes.
There were worse things to use their fame for than a good night’s sleep.
FIN