Soaring, Flying
Title: Soaring, Flying (or, wings are awesome even if flight is technically impossible)
Author: Me, of course ;D
Pairing: Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump (Fall Out Boy), Andy Hurley/Joe Trohman if you squint and tilt your head to the right sixty-four degrees
Rating: PG
Summary: "Why is it that when the weird shit happens, you call me?" Andy whined, opening the leather-bound book he carried.
Disclaimer: Fanfiction, dudes. It's called that for a reason.
Dedication: megyal for writing this, #2.
Warnings: Slight swearing, and crack. Lots and lots of crack.
A/N at the end <3
"I think we may have a slight issue here," Patrick observed, watching his own in the mirror. His shirt had been stripped off so that it wasn't as constricting, and so that he could get a better look at them. The bright white wings folded neatly against his back, but opened to span the width of the room. He had to be careful with those, or he'd break something and probably cut himself.
Pete nodded and joined him, staring at his own new additions to his body. They were leathery, but thin - he'd have to be careful of anything pointy getting pushed against it. Bones stuck out from a point at the top like fingers, and in between it was sort of webbed. He couldn't open them completely in the room. "Mine are bigger," he joked.
Patrick just rolled his eyes. "Call Andy. He'll know what to do." He folded the wings at his back and tossed the phone at the other man.
"Why is it that when the weird shit happens, you call me?" Andy whined, opening the leather-bound book he carried. There was that and a small bag of fairly dangerous-looking metal instruments - Pete's wings folded completely at the sight of them. "Into the living room, you'll be able to open them fully there so I can measure them. It looks like you've both turned into birds."
"And Patrick got the cool ones," Joe added, following them with a cup of soda from McDonalds. When the other three glared at him, he shrugged. "What? I'd rather have the feathers than... whatever the hell those are," he finished, gesturing to Pete.
"Living room, right," Patrick said, quickly and loudly to keep anyone from arguing further. He headed in after Andy, who measured Patrick's height, then wingspan.
"Well, what do you know," the drummer finally muttered, flipping through his book. "Pete, you've got an angel on your hands. Interesting."
Patrick laughed. "Angel? Me? Man, that is weird... and they do have nerve endings," he snapped at Pete, rustling the one the other man had been petting. "That tickles. Cut it out."
Pete smirked and joined Andy, who did the same thing to him as he had to Patrick. After another look in his book, he burst out laughing. "What?" Pete asked. "I know, it's weird, I have wings, but-"
"Vampire bat," Andy managed to spit, and that set Joe and Patrick off too.
After everyone regained their composure, Patrick looked over at Pete, eyes sparkling. "We knew you were a bloodsucker, but this is the final straw," he joked.
Pete stuck his tongue out at him, then turned to Andy. "How do we get rid of them?"
"You don't," Andy said simply. "There's nothing I know of to take them off... if they have nerve endings, that means they have blood vessels running through them, and probably major ones at that. So we can't cut them off. How did you get them?"
Pete glared at him from under his hair. "If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you how to get them off." He sighed and stretched them out, letting them flap a little bit. Not too much, it'd blow things over, but enough to let them get some exercise.
"I wonder if we can fly," Patrick murmured, idly reaching behind him to feel the feathers. He was starting to get used to them.
Andy shook his head. "You guys don't have the bone structure anywhere but the wings. You'd jump off the cliff and crash."
Pete nodded, then moved them up and down slightly as he rolled his shoulders. "Lighter bones or not, they're still heavy," he observed.
"Come here, Pete," Patrick suddenly called, tapping his lap to tell Pete to sit down. When the bassist did so, Patrick reached out to feel the membrane stretching over the bones. "It's actually kind of soft," he murmured.
Andy packed up the small case he'd brought everything in, then locked it up. "I'm gonna go, you two look like you're coming to terms with it," he teased.
Patrick tossed a pillow at him. "Fine. Don't schedule any photoshoots until we get this sorted out."
"Right. Joe, we're going, get out of their fridge," he snapped, noticing the guitarist in the kitchen. "We'll talk to you guys later," he added.
Once they were gone, Patrick went back to Pete. "You know, this is really smooth, right here where the wing meets skin..." He trailed his finger along it and smirked, watching Pete's back arch a little.
"For the record, that tickles too. And it's kind of a turn-on, can't lie," Pete laughed, reaching out to stroke the feathers on one of Patrick's wings.
Patrick just nodded. "You know... this may not be so bad. Weird, yeah, but when is our life normal?" He ran a hand down each of the visible bones in Pete's wing slowly, almost as if he wanted to map out each place on the new part of him and how it felt.
The wing flapped at him impatiently. "I told you, that tickles," Pete muttered. "Switch places with me." He got up and sat in the armchair nearby, motioning for Patrick to sit on his lap.
"Why?" he asked, doing so carefully.
Pete just shook his head, then nudged Patrick's side. "Wings out, as far as you can." Once he'd done so, Pete gently massaged his shoulder blades, right where most of the weight was held.
Patrick mewled quietly, shifting on Pete's lap. "God, that feels good," he muttered, rolling his back a little bit.
"I have them too," he reminded Patrick gently, rubbing around where the wing left his back with his fingertips. "I can feel where all the pressure is and such. I know where it gets tired."
Patrick smiled sleepily, twitching one wing. "So you've had wings for less than an hour, and you're an expert?" he asked with a smirk.
"Hey, I never said that," Pete argued, poking him gently. "That's not fair. But your wings must be heavier than mine, with all the feathers and everything."
"Yours are bigger, though," Patrick mused, sighing as Pete found another tense spot in his back. "Mmm, I dunno. Whatever."
Pete laughed. "Good point. Nothing makes sense anymore." He folded his wings in, then headed back to the bedroom to find a shirt. "I wonder if it looks fairly normal when we..." He pulled a T-shirt over his head, then sighed in frustration. "Alright. I guess we have to wear jackets for the next few days to hide it." He reached for his yellow and brown Clan one, then gestured to Patrick. "You too. Then we'll go have lunch?"
Patrick nodded and grabbed the nearest clean shirt, then his green button-down jacket. "Sure. Okay."
They were awakened the next morning by the phone. Patrick sat up and grabbed for it. "Hel-"
"Patrick, what the hell did you do!?" Andy shrieked from the other end of the line. He sounded absolutely frantic.
"Andy, calm down. What is going on?"
He heard Andy take a few deep breaths and say, "Joe and I have them too. What. Did. You. Do."
Patrick just laughed. "We'll be over there in a few minutes." He hung up and nudged Pete's wing gently. "Hey, come on. Up. We have to help the other guys with their new additions."
Pete sat up straight, looking bewilderedly at Patrick. "What are you talking about?"
"I'll fill you in on the way," Patrick promised.
A/N: Anyone that can figure out the implications of the wings gets cookies. Hint: Sometimes this happens in manga, depending on what you read.