Random PetexJohn Fic
Title: Anger
Rating: PG -13
Pairing: PetexJohn, hints of petexkeith and petexjohnxkeith
Warning: Some cursing, some sexual innuendo
Summary: Pete is angry and John must deal with the aftermath.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE WHO
Pete was pissed.
As the guitarist stood in front of him trembling, John couldn't help but feel slightly impressed at how well he managed to push his buttons. Unfortunately, this was not a difficult task. Pete was notorious far and wide for his temper. However it seemed that he always reserved his mood swings for his bandmates above all else. It wasn't as if John minded this fact. Despite how frustrating it tended to be dealing with the six foot tall child, the bassist always loved it when Pete was provoked. After all, the guitarist always came to him when he was bothered.
"John?" Pete bit out, his eyes glistening. At the sound of his name John returned his attention to his wayward bandmate. The guitarist had yet to cease his trembling resembling a frustrated child as he shook quietly in place. His hands were fisted at his sides as if they did not know what to do with themselves. The sight of his anxious friend made him giddy inside but he did not allow a chuckle to escape. Rather, the stoic bassist resorted to quirking an eyebrow at the sight.
It was awhile before John spoke, his tone leveled and monotonous.
"Yes Peter?"
It shocked John that he was able to keep the smirk from his face. As he stared silently, the guitarist lowered his gaze to the floor, his bright eyes obscured by his messy black bangs. His shoulders, once square and rigid had followed suit, sagging as they did so. Placing his fists into his jean pockets, Pete continued to tremble quietly.
The bassist hadn't meant for the situation to get this out of hand. Unfortunately, it seemed that anything had the slightest chance of vexing Pete. The unusual thing was that nothing had gone wrong. In between last night and this afternoon, nothing too unusual, even for the Who, had occurred to encourage the guitarist's behavior. The only incident John could think of happened yesterday when Pete happened to walk in on a thwarted cherry bombing attempt.
Being cooped in a hotel room on "time out" or at least what Roger referred to it as, was, to say the least, dull. John had been pacing to and fro with nothing to do when Keith barged in brandishing something in his hands. It was a new set of shiny, red cherry bombs that took John's breath away as he stared at them. In the next few seconds, the two found themselves in the bathroom, the bassist holding a book of matches. The toilet had been filled to the brim with the explosives just asking to be detonated. Once he was finished, Keith had smiled at John then, his eyes full of mirth. The drummer soon moved out of the way, his hands wringing wildly as the bassist walked forward to kneel beside their latest act of mischief. Striking the match, the duo were mere seconds away from plaster when the room door opened.
Time seemed to move slowly as the duo halted waiting for whoever it was to appear. After what seemed like forever, through the door emerged Pete. In his hand was his beloved guitar which he held firmly by its neck. Looking up, he was shocked to find that he wasn't the only occupant of the room. As two pairs of eyes fell upon him, the guitarist gave the two a curious glance before he spotted the matches in John's hands.
What happened next was unusual to say the least. Instead of getting angry or giving the pair a lecture, Pete just deposited his guitar in its case and went to lie down upon his bed. At that point, John and Keith had exited the lavatory to see what was up. Unfortunately the guitarist wouldn't respond. At the end of the incident, John had become more perplexed than before. Without shouting or threats, Pete had managed to cease the two's antics with minimal effort. Now if only he could get the guitarist back to normal.
John released a small sigh. Although it had happened yesterday, he believed that it was no reason for the guitarist's current state. At this he wondered if God could bless him with a manual on the habits of women and Townshends.
Now as he watched the display continue without end, John decided that maybe impatience will get it out of the younger man.
"Get on with it, Townshend," he muttered with indifference. "I ain't got all night..."
The guitarist suddenly lifted his head to stare at John. His blue eyes were vibrant with fury as he scowled, his body shuddering with repressed rage. Although this display would normally have the desired effect on the target, John remained unflappable, the only sign of a reaction evident in his solitary raised eyebrow.
"John Alec Entwistle," Pete's voice had raised another octave adding to John's amusement. "You are a godless, chainsmoking sicko with all the charm and morals of a neanderthal stuck in an ice cube!"
There was no response for a while. After moments of seething, Pete had calmed down leaving only a slither of anger in its wake. Instead of scarring the bassist like he wanted to, Pete was met with an unusual sound. As guttural, throaty laughter emerged from nowhere, the guitarist looked up to see John laughing. The sight left Pete's mouth hanging open as he watched the rare sight. He could've sworn Hell had frozen over and droughts ravaged the Earth as the bassist succumbed to side splitting laughter.
It was a while before John stopped. Taking a deep breath, he once again returned his gaze to Pete who continued to stare perturbed.
"Sorry mate. You sounded like a bird just now."
This response caused Pete's hackles to rise and a blush to mar his cheeks.
"How dare you? I did not sound like a bird nor do I. You are an ingrate twat!"
John just raised an eyebrow.
"If I'm such an ingrate twat then what does that make you?" John proceeded to sling an arm across Pete's thin shoulders, making him blush harder. "As I recall, you are pretty keen on letting this ingrate top."
Pete shook him off.
"That has nothing to do with it! John, just stop and listen! You are a conceited jerk and what are you doing?"
At that moment John tackled Pete causing him to lose his balance. The two proceeded to fall on the hotel bed in a heap.
"I'm going to say this in words you can understand, Peter," John had moved to straddle Pete's waist, looking down at his bandmate unfazed. "Since you won't tell me what's wrong, I've decided I'm going to fuck it out of you."
Pete winced at the bassist's poor vocabulary as he looked up alarmed. In this sense, he had something in common with all the groupies and girlfriends at John's disposal. In contrast to the silent man he played with, the bassist was very aggressive when it came to more private matters. As Pete felt something prod at his stomach he quietly accepted what was going to come, well at least that's what the bassist observed.
Suddenly Pete started to bite his lip. At that moment, John had grounded his pelvis into his, a dangerous smirk on his face. As Pete turned to look up at him flushed, the guitarist could have sworn that he saw the bassist lick his lips.
"God Pete..." John bit out. Pete had to admit that seeing the bassist this aroused was a breathtaking sight. "Everytime you get angry, we go through this. Must every one of your tantrums end with me screwing your brains out?"
John was right. Everytime Pete got angry, he always found himself in another compromising position with the quiet man. The first time it happened, it was a shock. His normally passive friend had assaulted him and ravaged him until neither one of them could stand. As time progressed it seemed as if Pete always sought him out when he was angry only to achieve the end result. This pattern of anger to shagging your bassist/best friend seemed a bit unhealthy but Pete found that no matter the problems, it felt right.
"I'll take that as a yes then."
Pete emitted a small sigh.
"So Keith's not joining us this time then?"
It was moments before John spoke, his voice heavy.
"No. He can have you tomorrow."
And so once again the two saw the end of the guitarist's anger. It was only the next afternoon did John come upon a sudden, post shag epiphany:
He never did find out what had gotten Pete upset.
At that moment, he heard a series of shouts coming from the hall. As the hotel room door slammed, he was suddenly met with the familiar sound of his name shouted from outside the bathroom door. With one last look in the mirror, he smirked before walking to the door, responding as he did so, not hiding the laughter in his voice.
"Coming Peter..."