(no subject)
the fun never ends. pete/jenny lewis. pg-13.
663 words.
in case you don't know who Jenny is, she was in Rilo Kiley.
for xthebackseatx.
They meet at a show, backstage in the wings, because Pete wants to make her famous. "I already am famous, Peterface," she says, smiling at him through her teeth but not her eyes, swishing her hair around her shoulders. "I don't need your label or your time."
Pete laughs, because Jenny always says the same thing, and her voice never wavers and her voice never changes. "You're perfect," he says as he's backing away, because he can see Blake coming down the hallway, scowl set in place.
There's a mutual dislike there, but Pete's pretty sure he hates Blake more.
--
They grab coffee when Pete's in Las Vegas. Every time Pete's in Las Vegas, Jenny just happens to be home. She's pretty sure he shows up when he knows she'll be there, and he's pretty sure she does the same. It's nice, and they've been doing this for years, the same diner, the same orders, and here they aren't Pete Wentz and Shelly Long's daughter in Troop Beverly Hills, they're just Pete and Jen.
He's the only one she lets call her that, and neither of them are sure why.
--
"It's up and running now," he says, when the lights are twinkling in the sky, bright yellow bursts in the darkness. It's hard to see the stars in the city unless you're looking on the ground, but they always seem to end up here too, miles of desert around them, leaning on the hood of whatever car Pete's driving these days.
"We're not signing on your label, Pete. We already -- "
"We're not, or you're not?"
She sits up, blowing her bags out of her eyes and says, "The two are mutually exclusive, Peter." She smiles at him, through her eyes this time, because she really is fond of him. She doesn't know why, but she really is. She says as much, just to watch the smile on his face.
His eyes are dim, but the smile is there, hiding in the corners.
--
His band blows up. His pet baby bands blow up.
He doesn't make it to Vegas for a year, but she's got a show in New York, just a little one, in a club that used to be smoky, with people who remember her name.
He's there with someone, she can tell. It's not Patrick, because Patrick would rather shoot himself than sit in the back of a place like this. He'd want to get closer, want to hear the music, want to talk to her about the melodies and how he could fix them.
Jenny loves Patrick.
--
She's beautiful, and she's blonde and she has a name that's more than recognizable. She gushes and she says something like, "Saddle Creek is really fantastic, seriously. I listen to it all the time." She smiles, big, bigger than Jenny would have.
She doesn't seem threatened or threatening, so when Pete opens his arms and says something like, "Get your ass over here, Lewis," so that Jenny hugs him.
It still feels exactly the same.
--
There's a message on her machine when she wakes up on a Tuesday in July. It's sweltering hot during Vegas summers, and she'd never leave her house if she didn't have to, but this is Pete, so she calls him back, and tells him to meet her at the diner in twenty minutes.
She'll be late, and he's already there, but he'll wait. She knows he will.
--
He's got their orders already, and his hair is darker than she's seen it in a while. She tries to remember how long it's been since they've seen each other, but she can't count back that far.
"Hey sailor," she says, and the grin he shoots her is just this side of beautiful. "What brings you by these here parts?" She gulps down her coffee and motions for their waitress to get her another cup. Pete looking at her, and she can feel the sweep of it against her skin.
663 words.
in case you don't know who Jenny is, she was in Rilo Kiley.
for xthebackseatx.
They meet at a show, backstage in the wings, because Pete wants to make her famous. "I already am famous, Peterface," she says, smiling at him through her teeth but not her eyes, swishing her hair around her shoulders. "I don't need your label or your time."
Pete laughs, because Jenny always says the same thing, and her voice never wavers and her voice never changes. "You're perfect," he says as he's backing away, because he can see Blake coming down the hallway, scowl set in place.
There's a mutual dislike there, but Pete's pretty sure he hates Blake more.
--
They grab coffee when Pete's in Las Vegas. Every time Pete's in Las Vegas, Jenny just happens to be home. She's pretty sure he shows up when he knows she'll be there, and he's pretty sure she does the same. It's nice, and they've been doing this for years, the same diner, the same orders, and here they aren't Pete Wentz and Shelly Long's daughter in Troop Beverly Hills, they're just Pete and Jen.
He's the only one she lets call her that, and neither of them are sure why.
--
"It's up and running now," he says, when the lights are twinkling in the sky, bright yellow bursts in the darkness. It's hard to see the stars in the city unless you're looking on the ground, but they always seem to end up here too, miles of desert around them, leaning on the hood of whatever car Pete's driving these days.
"We're not signing on your label, Pete. We already -- "
"We're not, or you're not?"
She sits up, blowing her bags out of her eyes and says, "The two are mutually exclusive, Peter." She smiles at him, through her eyes this time, because she really is fond of him. She doesn't know why, but she really is. She says as much, just to watch the smile on his face.
His eyes are dim, but the smile is there, hiding in the corners.
--
His band blows up. His pet baby bands blow up.
He doesn't make it to Vegas for a year, but she's got a show in New York, just a little one, in a club that used to be smoky, with people who remember her name.
He's there with someone, she can tell. It's not Patrick, because Patrick would rather shoot himself than sit in the back of a place like this. He'd want to get closer, want to hear the music, want to talk to her about the melodies and how he could fix them.
Jenny loves Patrick.
--
She's beautiful, and she's blonde and she has a name that's more than recognizable. She gushes and she says something like, "Saddle Creek is really fantastic, seriously. I listen to it all the time." She smiles, big, bigger than Jenny would have.
She doesn't seem threatened or threatening, so when Pete opens his arms and says something like, "Get your ass over here, Lewis," so that Jenny hugs him.
It still feels exactly the same.
--
There's a message on her machine when she wakes up on a Tuesday in July. It's sweltering hot during Vegas summers, and she'd never leave her house if she didn't have to, but this is Pete, so she calls him back, and tells him to meet her at the diner in twenty minutes.
She'll be late, and he's already there, but he'll wait. She knows he will.
--
He's got their orders already, and his hair is darker than she's seen it in a while. She tries to remember how long it's been since they've seen each other, but she can't count back that far.
"Hey sailor," she says, and the grin he shoots her is just this side of beautiful. "What brings you by these here parts?" She gulps down her coffee and motions for their waitress to get her another cup. Pete looking at her, and she can feel the sweep of it against her skin.