Lost and Found (Out): Part 2
Title: Lost and Found (Out): Part 2
Pairing: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz (Peterick)
Rating: NC-17 (for sexual content).
Summary: Patrick has been in love with his best friend for almost as long as he's known him. So when Pete starts hooking up with strangers frequently, he's far from happy about it. Will Patrick's jealousy force him to be honest about his feelings for once or will it just tear apart their friendship?
Author's Note: This is the most sexual content I've ever written into a fan fic so hopefully I did okay writing that part. This fic did not have a beta, so if you notice a mistake, feel free to point it out so that I can change it!
Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Pete Wentz or Patrick Stump, nor do I own Joe Trohman or Andy Hurley or any other celebrity mentioned. This did not actually happen (as far as I know). Also the title to this belongs to Fall Out Boy!
You make this all go away.
You make this all go away.
I'm down to just one thing.
And I'm starting to scare myself...
I just want something.
I just want something I can never have.
-Nine Inch Nails “Something I Can Never Have”
I try to sleep on the couch of the All Time Low bus but sleep doesn't seem inclined to come tonight. Already, Pete has tried to call me twelve times and has texted me ten times. It's nearly enough to make me roll down a window and throw my phone out into the road. I can't even bring myself to read any of the texts or listen to any voice mails. I know I should, just in case he decides to do something rash, but I just can't make myself do it. Joe and Andy promised to tell me if there was an emergency or anything (not that they're happy about all of this). I just hope they'll know if something really bad is going to happen. I also told them to let Pete know that I need some time to be alone and don't want him to contact me right now. Obviously, he doesn't give a shit what I say. He doesn't respect me enough to give me this space that I need and it just makes me that much more furious about it all.
A small, miserable part of me is aware that this is kind of all my fault. If I didn't like the way he flirted with me onstage, I should have stopped him way before now because I should have known there would come a day when he pushed the boundaries a little too hard. I just didn't want to tell him to stop because I love it all too much. I knew that if I didn't let him whisper words against my skin, I would probably never know what it felt like to have his lips on me. So I let it go on and that just made it that much harder when he never wanted to give me that kind of attention offstage. If I wasn't overweight and generally hideous then maybe he'd hit on me. Maybe he'd want me. But he only hits on me for show and I'm not stupid enough to think that will ever change. So the real question is what am I going to do about it? I can't keep going on like this and I don't want to quit the band. I don't want to lose my best friend (if I didn't already assure that with my behavior tonight).
The more I think about it, the more scared I get and the more the rage I feel turns inward. Pete might have taken things too far and he might have hurt me, but I was ultimately the one that lost it and was cruel. I already hurt him badly enough when I snapped at him before the show today. If only I'd been able to just deal with his antics and then calmly told him that he'd gone too far afterward. Now he's going to want a thorough explanation and I know that telling him that his touch made me uncomfortable is not going to be detailed enough. I've gotten mad at him before and we've fought before but not like this. Other than today, I'd never stormed off and flat out refused to talk to him after a fight. Nor had I ever snapped at him without at least explaining myself in some way afterward. I'm the worst best friend in the world.
It's around four in the morning by now and I wonder if he's okay and if he's somehow managing to sleep. I doubt that he is because he has enough trouble with trying to sleep on a normal night. As if to confirm that I'm not the only one still awake, my phone vibrates. I glance at the screen just to make sure that it isn't Andy or Joe, and of course it's Pete. A huge part of me wants to keep ignoring his attempts but I know that the other two guys are long asleep by now and what if something happened? I would never forgive myself.
I force myself to take in a deep, shaky breath and open the message.
please talk to me. im dying here, trick. i cant lose u. tell me what I did and ill fix whatever it is. id rather die than lose my best friend.
He's just being over-dramatic, I hope. He couldn't prefer death over losing me. And I wouldn't leave him and the band behind this easily I don't think. Still, after almost losing him to suicide before, I can't help but take that pretty seriously. I stare at the message for at least five minutes before I can think of anything to say back.
You aren't losing me. I just need some time alone. Go to sleep, Pete. I will see you tomorrow night, at the show.
I set down my phone and shut my eyes, scrolling through my ipod and hoping I can find something that might help me sleep. It doesn't surprise me when my phone vibrates a couple more times. Which means that whatever he's saying is taking multiple messages. Shit. So should have ignored that text.
u know i cant sleep without u breathing in the bunk next to me. or u singing to me over the phone. cant sleep knowing ur mad either. what did I do? was it bc of what i did during sugar? uve always let me touch u b4. it was just ur leg.
I groan out loud when I read his response. Why can't he just leave well enough alone?
Damn it. Seriously, you can sleep without me for one night.
I know he's going to argue because I deliberately didn't answer his questions. I try to ignore the double meaning my own words could have. I tell myself not to think about what I can't have.
if u think ur gonna get away with not talking about what happened ur wrong. so u should talk now.
I want to scream when I read his response and I type mine up while I'm still furious, even though I know that it's going to come back to haunt me later. I just can't keep holding everything in;I need to let at least a few things out before I'm engulfed by all of it. I feel like an old pier in a storm and if I keep going along the way I am now, I'm going to end up being beaten to death by the waves. I don't want this to end with me collapsing into the sea.
Fine! Yes, it was mostly b/c of what you did during Sugar. It was too much, you touching me that high and while on your knees. I would prefer if you'd just not touch me anymore.
I feel somewhat queasy after I hit send and already I wish I could take it back. He really did just touch my leg and he's probably touched that same spot randomly during everyday conversation before. It was the context and setting that made it different. That and the fact that he'd already had his lips on my neck. I had already wanted him so much and it somehow hit me harder in that moment that he would never, ever be mine. That this was just a game. I can't play anymore.
I'm not sure I really want him to completely stop touching me, even if maybe that's what is in my best interest. It takes me a few minutes after he sends one back to even bring myself to read it.
sry. no more touching from me. night.
I had actually been considering offering to call and sing to him...provided he promised we wouldn't talk. It's probably for the best that the conversation ends here though. I close my eyes and try to just breathe and stop thinking. It doesn't work and I don't sleep except for maybe about an hour the next afternoon when I doze off in front of the tv with Alex and Jack. Pete tries to drop by as soon as the buses stop, but Rian doesn't let him in.
I get ready for the show as much as possible in the bus, even doing most of the last minute things that I normally do backstage there, like warm up. Alex pulls me aside about ten minutes before I have to go.
It helps me breathe when he hugs me and I'm grateful for his simple strength. I don't know why he's being so supportive because I don't know him super well yet, but I'm eternally grateful.
“You should be honest with him, Patrick. You're destroying yourself this way and it's really hard to watch. I'm with you whatever decide and if you need to come back here, you're welcome to. Good luck with the show, I know you'll sound beautiful,” Alex tells me quietly, his expression is one of heartfelt concern. Another reason to ache until this is over.
I don't arrive backstage until twenty minutes before we have to go on. I try to pretend to be very busy and I can tell Pete knows I'm just avoiding him because of the way his jaw tightens.
Right before we go on, he comes to stand beside me. “Can I at least hug you,” he asks in a small voice.
I want him to, perhaps more than I've wanted anything up to this point. I need for us to be okay and there's a sharp feeling in my lungs that makes breathing hurt my chest so badly. I shake my head no, unable to even speak the words. I'm afraid if I give in and let him hug me, I'll do something stupid like never let him go or be honest about how I feel. I stare at the floor, afraid to lose at him. It's hard to believe that things like the floor can be this solid, that the world can be this sturdy, when mine is breaking apart.
He steps closer and cups my face in his hands, lifting my chin to make me look at him. “Patrick, we're talking about this afterward...and I know that this has to be more than just what happened yesterday. You've been slightly off lately. You can either make this easy and wait for me in the dressing room after, or you can make me chase you down and force you to talk.”
I jerk away from him. “I said not to touch me,” I complain. I can hear my anger and frustration in my voice, but it's the desperation and sadness that makes it waver.
He puts his hands up slightly, as if to say he surrenders (for now) and he steps back to put some space in between us. A minute later we're taking the stage and I wish I could just go home.
The show itself is miserable. Pete stays on his side of the stage and I stay on mine. Joe tries to keep the energy up but even he can't do it alone. When Pete speaks in between songs occasionally, he sounds so subdued compared to normal and I feel sick thinking, I did that.
My voice sounds weak because it lacks breath support. It's honestly all I can do to breathe as is, much less sing. Panic is gripping my lungs because I know I have to talk to him after this is over. I don't know what the hell to say because there's no way to explain without telling the truth. I've never been a good liar. I want to refuse to talk and just go hide out in the All Time Low bus again, but that's no solution. Besides, I can't bear the thought of losing Pete as a best friend and running away from him for too long would be a great way of causing me to lose him. But the truth? What if the truth makes it awkward and he refuses to let me close ever again?
By the time we get to the last song, I feel like I'm choking out the words more than I'm singing them. When I glance over at Pete, he's looking back at me. Concern and anxiety cross his face and I have to look away again.
Too soon, the show is over and we all head backstage. Everything in me is screaming to run away but instead I sit down on the floor in the dressing room and put my face in my hands. After a few short minutes, I sense someone sit down carefully next to me. He doesn't touch me but he's close enough that the heat from his body does. I exhale shakily.
“You should know that you can't say or do anything to make me stop being your best friend,” Pete says quietly. “You can tell me if I've done something to make you unhappy,besides last night I mean.”
I finally sit up a little and turn to look at him. He has a shirt on now. There's only maybe six inches of space in between us and I know it's only there because he's trying to respect my boundaries. There's so much suffering in his eyes and I just hope I can somehow take it away without destroying our friendship. I want to bury my face in his neck but I don't do it because I was the one that needed space. I lean my head back against the wall and stare straight ahead so I don't have to keep looking at him.
“It's not that simple,” I whisper. “If I tell you, it might change everything. It could ruin everything.”
“And I told you, there's no way you can destroy this. Whatever is going on has you really upset, so as your best friend I need to know. I need to be here for you. Even if...even if I'm the problem.” I can feel his intense gaze on me as he speaks, his voice full of conviction.
“I know better than to tell you this though. There's a reason I've kept this secret from you for years.”
The desperation makes my voice go up an octave and I keep telling myself to stay calm and breathe, and breathe, but my lungs won't listen too well. I feel lightheaded and close my eyes tightly for a moment.
“Years,” he whispers, sounding so...damaged.
I put my hands back over my face as If they'll somehow offer me some extra protection to block out my whole world turning to ashes. They don't. I still feel and it's like having a hurricane in my veins. I try to hold my anguish in but it comes out in a soft sob, which makes me feel that much more pathetic.
“I know you told me not to, but I'm going to touch you,” he says suddenly.
I'm sitting with my knees to my chest and he uses that to his advantage and wraps an arm under my knees and another around my back. It's awkward and just as I'm about to protest he pulls me over and puts me into his lap. He changes his hold so that he has an arm around my waist. I know I should fight him on this but I'm too worn down, so I just turn enough to bury my face in his neck like I've been wanting to this whole time. I expect him to push for an answer but he doesn't yet, he just holds me tighter with one arm, like he's afraid to let go. He uses his free hand to take off my hat and gently stroke my hair. Normally I would probably bitch him out for removing my hat but having him brush his fingers softly through my hair is so soothing. This isn't something I normally let anyone do but then I don't usually sit in anyone's lap either.
At least five minutes pass and I'm trying to gather my courage to tell him how I feel when I hear a female voice I don't recognize.
“Pete, dude, I thought we were going to hang out. Andy said you must still be back here so I hope you don't mind that I came looking for you. You uh...you look kind of occupied.”
I'm guessing this is someone that he planned on “seeing” after the show so I figure there's no real point in sticking around. I can't do this anyway, no matter how many times he tries to assure me that I can. I pull back and use both hands to pry his arm from around me. He stops messing with my hair out of shock and I take the opportunity to stand up quickly. I grab my guitar case and hurry towards the exit.
I get a good head start because I hear him stop to talk to the girl, which makes me grind my teeth a little.
I'm so close to All Time Low's bus, which is lined up with the others behind the venue. I think I've lost him and I'm just starting to feel relief course heavily through my entire being when I hear his voice.
“Trick, wait!” I freeze for a second too long and then his feet are pounding the pavement and suddenly he's too close. He reaches out and gets a hold of my wrist, forcing me to come to a halt.
“Don't,” I tell him, trying to jerk free of his hold. He lets go and I think I might be home free but then he latches both arms around my waist and holds on for dear life.
“Let the fuck go,” I snarl at him, shaking a little, though I'm not sure if it's more from fear or more from anger. I just want to escape the inevitable a bit longer. I don't want to have to lose him forever. At least until the words come out of my throat, I will still have the tiniest bit of illusion left that maybe things won't end badly.
“I'm not letting go until you tell me what's going on with you. You will just have to drag me along with you if you plan on going anywhere,” Pete tells me, much too calmly.
Our own bus is the closest and I'm only barely surprised when we crash into it from my fighting to get him off of me. I feel the way it shakes behind his back and a hysterical laugh escapes from me that sounds like it's being ripped from my throat. (Or maybe just like I'm being ripped open). It's really not funny but at the same time it is because this situation is just ridiculous.
“Why can you never leave well enough alone,Pete,” I ask viciously, shaking him as he continues to cling to me and his eyes are wide with something like fear but he doesn't let go. “I would get over it eventually, I would.”
Am I trying to convince myself or him of that? I don't even believe my own words because if I was going to get over my feelings for him they wouldn't be wreaking havoc on my stomach right about now.
“Well enough? What are you even talking about! You're not doing well, Jesus, anyone can see that. Tell me what it is, Trick. I'm done being patient. We both know I'm not good at that, especially not when it comes to you. I can't keep watching you like this and having you somewhere else is even worse. If you're going to freak out, I need it right in front of me. I could never run away from you.”
His tone is desperate and his voice shakes so much on those last two sentences. It's spears right through my chest and I suffocate. I could never run away from you. He doesn't have to sound accusatory for me to feel the kind of gnawing guilt that could nearly bring me to my knees.
The door to the bus slams open and I hear Andy's voice but I don't look because I'm too focused on Pete. I nearly fall when strong hands suddenly yank me (and the clinging Pete) towards the door.
“Walk,” Joe demands and I do because I can tell this is an intervention that I won't be able to get out of.
Andy is standing by the couch with his arms crossed over his chest when Pete and I sit down on it (don't ask me how he's still hanging on).
“Joe and I are going to go play some xbox with All Time Low. You two are staying here, together, until you work it out, build a bridge and get the fuck over it,” Andy says seriously, his eyes boring into mine until I flinch. His eyes always seem to see too much and I wonder if he knows.
It's really quiet once they vacate the bus and I'm left alone with Pete again. It's probably good that they interceded when they did because I have a feeling that could have ended up as a fistfight at that rate.
“You're going to cut off my circulation if you keep holding on like that,” I say finally, just to break the silence.
He lets go slowly, watching me like he's afraid I'll explode as soon as I'm free of his grip.
“Why would you even want me freaking out right in front of you,” I blurt out, before I realize what I'm asking.
Pete looks at me like I'm genuinely retarded. “You're my best friend, Trick. I just want you, however you are.”
Suddenly I'm swallowing down tears,barely holding it together. What if I was wrong all along? Maybe he can handle this. I know I have to do this so I swallow my fears even though they go down about as easily as rocks. The only thing I have to hold onto is that I get to control how I tell him.
“I'll talk about it but only if you agree to some conditions first,” I tell him.
He responds with a small smile even if it's somewhat strained. “What are they?”
I consider for a moment, trying to make the right moves, whichever ones might keep at least part of us safe. “One, you'll try your hardest not to freak out on me. Two, you promise that you will try to stay friends with me. Three, you'll give me space if I need it.”
Pete looks kind of freaked out already and I'm not about to try to calm him down because I need him to understand how serious this is. “Okay,” he says delicately. The frightened but expectant look on his face adds even more pressure to my chest.
As many times as I've thought of what it might be like to tell him or to be with him, I've never come up with a good way to confess. The silence is a bit heavy and I decide that maybe in this case, actions will speak so much louder than words. I close the space between us until our thighs touch and even now his body is so familiar to me and the heat and energy of it makes me burn and want.
“I think that maybe I can show you a little easier than I can tell you,” I say quietly, sounding so much steadier than I feel. I don't know how he'll react to this but I'm hoping that he'll at least kiss me back, however he feels. That maybe he'll give it a few seconds chance at least, to see if I can set him on fire too. I cup his chin and I lean in slowly so that he can still move away if it's what he wants.
By the time I cover his mouth with mine, he must have gotten over the confusion because he kisses me back. It's a brush of silk at first, so soft; it becomes more certain quickly, firm and full of fervor. It's not enough even as it makes my head swim. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, needing his taste like I've never needed anything. He lets out a soft whimper and my body vibrates in response, a tremor going through me. I want more sound, want to put my hands to good use, want to play him like a guitar.
My tongue slips into his mouth and his taste is so strong that I can't help but moan as I savor it. I slide one hand under his shirt because damn it if I'm going to do this, I'm going all out. His skin is so smooth and I can feel the muscles in his stomach under my hand. It makes me think about what it might be like if he put those muscles to good use with me....I need to feel him move inside of me, need to sink inside of him. I trace the tattoo that rides low on his stomach with my fingertips, going off of memory. That tattoo has featured in so many of my daydreams and it's surreal to be touching it, to be doing any of this. He's not stopping me at all and I want to take that to mean that maybe I can have what I've always wanted but I hesitate to do so without knowing for certain.
I pull away from the kiss, wanting to taste more skin, and he makes a noise of protest that makes me smile. I press open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down to his neck, licking my way from the bottom of his neck to the beginning of his shoulder and back.
“Patrick,” he groans out. “I want you so bad.”
The smile on my face must be huge because it makes him chuckle. Heat is kindling in my stomach, insistent. I slide my hand down over his hip and just under his belt-line, making myself crazy along with him. There are questions that I should be asking both of us but there are too many to worry about right now and this is too good to slow down too much.
I have to say something before I go on though. I can't just let things lie and take what I want. “I love you,” I whisper, staring into his golden-brown eyes. They're so dark and blown wide and it's overwhelming that it's because of me. That little hint of gold in them seems to flare up a little, the way it does when he's happy and I go weak with relief.
“I love you too,” he tells me, his voice thick like honey, sliding down slowly into my heart, making it beat faster.
I reward him with a shower of kisses, covering his neck and as much of his shoulders as I can by pulling at his shirt. I wish he'd just left the shirt off but maybe I can fix that. I want to push him back on this couch but I don't really want Andy and Joe to walk in on us like this.
“Let's go back to the bunks,” I suggest. Seconds later we're stumbling back into my bed and I'm pulling the curtain shut behind us. I put a hand on his chest and push him back gently, pressing our lips together again. I kiss him until my lungs burn from the lack of air, until we're both worked up to the point that we can't stop touching, to the point that my hips are pushing down hard against his mindlessly.
“I need to be closer to you,” I announce breathlessly once I pull back to get some oxygen. My hands are shaking as I push up his shirt and stop just short of taking it off.
“Yes,” Pete chokes out, sitting up just enough for me to get the shirt off. His hands slide under the t-shirt I'm wearing. “I need your skin,” he tells me, his voice so impossibly low. I'm quick to get rid of my own shirt, carelessly tossing it wherever in my haste.
Before I even have a chance to think, his mouth closes on my nipple and I lean heavily on the palms of my hands because suddenly every muscle in my body has turned to hot liquid. “F-fuck,” I groan,unable to help myself. He pulls back after a moment and shifts us so we're on our sides. Then his mouth goes everywhere he can reach...on my chest and neck and stomach. He teases with his tongue and teeth and sucks some of my skin into his mouth, especially when he gets to my hipbones. By the end I'm a whimpering, shaking mess. Never could I have imagined the kind of power he truly has over me, how deeply he makes me ache to make him mine.
When he pauses to breathe, I push him back again, wanting to drive him just as insane as he has me right now. I need to make him need me the way I have him for years. I lavish my attention on him, leaving at least one mark on his neck. I want everyone to see. I caress him with my mouth until his breathing is fast and I stop just above his pants to lick slow, hot lines along his belt-line. I don't think I ever want to taste anything but him again. I reach one hand down and tug at his jeans to request access and when he just moans I take that as a yes. It takes some effort to get them down but he helps me.
It's hard to believe this is real and not just another dream but when I skim my hand over his boxers and finally feel him, it's more real than any other moment has ever been. My senses anchor me here in this instant. The hard warmth under my hand, the desperate way he arches up into my touch, and the way his slightly swollen lips part all make this undeniably tangible. The sound of his unsteady breathing and the soft whine he lets escape his throat almost make me come undone. I need to give him more but there's something I have to hear him say first or so help me, I will stop right now, no matter how much my entire being would protest that.
“I'll do anything to make you feel good, just as long as you tell me what I need to hear,” I say huskily, hoping that he won't deny me this. It's a little fucked up to ask it in this setting but I need to hear it before I can go on.
“What,” Pete questions, his forehead crinkling up just a little in confusion (and maybe frustration because I am not playing fair).
“No one else again,” I demand in a carefully controlled voice, knowing that I'm being much too possessive and half expecting it to send Pete running. We've made no real commitments here, not really, as much as I don't want to think about that. “Say it for me and I'll give you what you want.”
“All I want is you,” Pete whispers, his fingertips suddenly tracing my face reverently. “There'll be no one else again, so long as you'll have me. I love you, Patrick Stump. Forget there was anyone else.”
I didn't really expect him to say that; I don't know what I expected and the sweetness of his response robs my lungs of all breath. “You're all I've ever wanted, the only one I'll ever let completely in.” It feels so good to finally speak the words that it actually hurts a little. “I love everything about you, even the things that drive me insane sometimes.”
He has no idea the number of things that no one else but him knows about me and I'm ready to give him everything else too, including all of the secrets that I keep reigned in tight. He kisses me tenderly and I know that no matter what else happens tonight, my world has changed irrevocably and I will find a kind of completeness in him.
When we separate to breathe, I slide my hand just under the waistband of his boxers and grin. “Should I take care of this for you now,” I ask deviously.
He chuckles a little, his eyes still dark with want. “God, yes,” he replies.
I tug his boxers down and off, somewhat stunned by how exquisitely beautiful that he is now that I've got him laying here with nothing covering his body up. I take a moment just to consume all of him with my eyes. My hand runs gingerly over his chest,my nails grazing his skin as I continue downward until I'm gripping his hip. I lean down and let my breath kiss the tip of his cock, just to watch him shudder.
“So beautiful,” I whisper, my voice all hushed adoration and roughness. “I can't wait to swallow you down. I want to watch your face when you come undone.”
His breathing is heavy as I lick my lips and move closer to brush my mouth over the tip of him, slowly. I get a shaky gasp for my efforts and satisfied with that, I lick him from base to head and then slide my mouth down over him. It feels good to have him fill me up, to be in control of giving him pleasure. I lose myself in the sounds he makes, the strangled moans that seem to increase the tighter my mouth gets around him. I revel in the intimacy of having him inside of a part of me, in the way I can see his mind blur.
When he starts to get a little closer, I pull away for just a brief second. “I want you to pull my hair and fuck my mouth,” I nearly growl.
He lets out a long moan, his hips arching a little as I go back down on him, making sure to angle this so that I can get him in deep. I wrap my hand around what little bit I can't swallow and get a rhythm going between the hot suction of my mouth and my hand.
“Patrick,” he cries out softly, burying one hand in my hair and tugging. That's all the encouragement I need to suck harder, to push my mouth down farther so he hits the back of my throat repeatedly. “Fuck, Trick, I--I can't,” he nearly sobs out when I groan softly around him and he feels the vibration in addition to all the other stimulation.
I grip his hips tight in both hands for an instant, my nails digging in as I pull him in closer and then let go, trying to persuade him to arch his hips a little. That's apparently all he can handle and I try to memorize the way he looks with his face contorted in bliss and the way those soft little noises sound as he does just what I wanted and cums down my throat.
We cuddle close after we're mutually sated, my head resting against his chest. I could stay this way forever, breathing in his smell, his hand lightly stroking through my hair. My hat is probably still backstage somewhere but somehow I just can't seem to be bothered to go find it before we leave. For now my whole world has narrowed down to just one other person and I'm finally not scared of that anymore. After not sleeping last night, I'm pretty exhausted and I keep having to fight waves of contented sleepiness.
“Will you sleep with me tonight,” I ask when I feel like I can't fight it anymore.
“Always,” he whispers.
My heart skips when I look up at him because his lips are curved up into a gentle smile and I know I had something to do with putting it there. I end up falling asleep to the sound of his heart in my ear.
Pairing: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz (Peterick)
Rating: NC-17 (for sexual content).
Summary: Patrick has been in love with his best friend for almost as long as he's known him. So when Pete starts hooking up with strangers frequently, he's far from happy about it. Will Patrick's jealousy force him to be honest about his feelings for once or will it just tear apart their friendship?
Author's Note: This is the most sexual content I've ever written into a fan fic so hopefully I did okay writing that part. This fic did not have a beta, so if you notice a mistake, feel free to point it out so that I can change it!
Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Pete Wentz or Patrick Stump, nor do I own Joe Trohman or Andy Hurley or any other celebrity mentioned. This did not actually happen (as far as I know). Also the title to this belongs to Fall Out Boy!
You make this all go away.
You make this all go away.
I'm down to just one thing.
And I'm starting to scare myself...
I just want something.
I just want something I can never have.
-Nine Inch Nails “Something I Can Never Have”
I try to sleep on the couch of the All Time Low bus but sleep doesn't seem inclined to come tonight. Already, Pete has tried to call me twelve times and has texted me ten times. It's nearly enough to make me roll down a window and throw my phone out into the road. I can't even bring myself to read any of the texts or listen to any voice mails. I know I should, just in case he decides to do something rash, but I just can't make myself do it. Joe and Andy promised to tell me if there was an emergency or anything (not that they're happy about all of this). I just hope they'll know if something really bad is going to happen. I also told them to let Pete know that I need some time to be alone and don't want him to contact me right now. Obviously, he doesn't give a shit what I say. He doesn't respect me enough to give me this space that I need and it just makes me that much more furious about it all.
A small, miserable part of me is aware that this is kind of all my fault. If I didn't like the way he flirted with me onstage, I should have stopped him way before now because I should have known there would come a day when he pushed the boundaries a little too hard. I just didn't want to tell him to stop because I love it all too much. I knew that if I didn't let him whisper words against my skin, I would probably never know what it felt like to have his lips on me. So I let it go on and that just made it that much harder when he never wanted to give me that kind of attention offstage. If I wasn't overweight and generally hideous then maybe he'd hit on me. Maybe he'd want me. But he only hits on me for show and I'm not stupid enough to think that will ever change. So the real question is what am I going to do about it? I can't keep going on like this and I don't want to quit the band. I don't want to lose my best friend (if I didn't already assure that with my behavior tonight).
The more I think about it, the more scared I get and the more the rage I feel turns inward. Pete might have taken things too far and he might have hurt me, but I was ultimately the one that lost it and was cruel. I already hurt him badly enough when I snapped at him before the show today. If only I'd been able to just deal with his antics and then calmly told him that he'd gone too far afterward. Now he's going to want a thorough explanation and I know that telling him that his touch made me uncomfortable is not going to be detailed enough. I've gotten mad at him before and we've fought before but not like this. Other than today, I'd never stormed off and flat out refused to talk to him after a fight. Nor had I ever snapped at him without at least explaining myself in some way afterward. I'm the worst best friend in the world.
It's around four in the morning by now and I wonder if he's okay and if he's somehow managing to sleep. I doubt that he is because he has enough trouble with trying to sleep on a normal night. As if to confirm that I'm not the only one still awake, my phone vibrates. I glance at the screen just to make sure that it isn't Andy or Joe, and of course it's Pete. A huge part of me wants to keep ignoring his attempts but I know that the other two guys are long asleep by now and what if something happened? I would never forgive myself.
I force myself to take in a deep, shaky breath and open the message.
please talk to me. im dying here, trick. i cant lose u. tell me what I did and ill fix whatever it is. id rather die than lose my best friend.
He's just being over-dramatic, I hope. He couldn't prefer death over losing me. And I wouldn't leave him and the band behind this easily I don't think. Still, after almost losing him to suicide before, I can't help but take that pretty seriously. I stare at the message for at least five minutes before I can think of anything to say back.
You aren't losing me. I just need some time alone. Go to sleep, Pete. I will see you tomorrow night, at the show.
I set down my phone and shut my eyes, scrolling through my ipod and hoping I can find something that might help me sleep. It doesn't surprise me when my phone vibrates a couple more times. Which means that whatever he's saying is taking multiple messages. Shit. So should have ignored that text.
u know i cant sleep without u breathing in the bunk next to me. or u singing to me over the phone. cant sleep knowing ur mad either. what did I do? was it bc of what i did during sugar? uve always let me touch u b4. it was just ur leg.
I groan out loud when I read his response. Why can't he just leave well enough alone?
Damn it. Seriously, you can sleep without me for one night.
I know he's going to argue because I deliberately didn't answer his questions. I try to ignore the double meaning my own words could have. I tell myself not to think about what I can't have.
if u think ur gonna get away with not talking about what happened ur wrong. so u should talk now.
I want to scream when I read his response and I type mine up while I'm still furious, even though I know that it's going to come back to haunt me later. I just can't keep holding everything in;I need to let at least a few things out before I'm engulfed by all of it. I feel like an old pier in a storm and if I keep going along the way I am now, I'm going to end up being beaten to death by the waves. I don't want this to end with me collapsing into the sea.
Fine! Yes, it was mostly b/c of what you did during Sugar. It was too much, you touching me that high and while on your knees. I would prefer if you'd just not touch me anymore.
I feel somewhat queasy after I hit send and already I wish I could take it back. He really did just touch my leg and he's probably touched that same spot randomly during everyday conversation before. It was the context and setting that made it different. That and the fact that he'd already had his lips on my neck. I had already wanted him so much and it somehow hit me harder in that moment that he would never, ever be mine. That this was just a game. I can't play anymore.
I'm not sure I really want him to completely stop touching me, even if maybe that's what is in my best interest. It takes me a few minutes after he sends one back to even bring myself to read it.
sry. no more touching from me. night.
I had actually been considering offering to call and sing to him...provided he promised we wouldn't talk. It's probably for the best that the conversation ends here though. I close my eyes and try to just breathe and stop thinking. It doesn't work and I don't sleep except for maybe about an hour the next afternoon when I doze off in front of the tv with Alex and Jack. Pete tries to drop by as soon as the buses stop, but Rian doesn't let him in.
I get ready for the show as much as possible in the bus, even doing most of the last minute things that I normally do backstage there, like warm up. Alex pulls me aside about ten minutes before I have to go.
It helps me breathe when he hugs me and I'm grateful for his simple strength. I don't know why he's being so supportive because I don't know him super well yet, but I'm eternally grateful.
“You should be honest with him, Patrick. You're destroying yourself this way and it's really hard to watch. I'm with you whatever decide and if you need to come back here, you're welcome to. Good luck with the show, I know you'll sound beautiful,” Alex tells me quietly, his expression is one of heartfelt concern. Another reason to ache until this is over.
I don't arrive backstage until twenty minutes before we have to go on. I try to pretend to be very busy and I can tell Pete knows I'm just avoiding him because of the way his jaw tightens.
Right before we go on, he comes to stand beside me. “Can I at least hug you,” he asks in a small voice.
I want him to, perhaps more than I've wanted anything up to this point. I need for us to be okay and there's a sharp feeling in my lungs that makes breathing hurt my chest so badly. I shake my head no, unable to even speak the words. I'm afraid if I give in and let him hug me, I'll do something stupid like never let him go or be honest about how I feel. I stare at the floor, afraid to lose at him. It's hard to believe that things like the floor can be this solid, that the world can be this sturdy, when mine is breaking apart.
He steps closer and cups my face in his hands, lifting my chin to make me look at him. “Patrick, we're talking about this afterward...and I know that this has to be more than just what happened yesterday. You've been slightly off lately. You can either make this easy and wait for me in the dressing room after, or you can make me chase you down and force you to talk.”
I jerk away from him. “I said not to touch me,” I complain. I can hear my anger and frustration in my voice, but it's the desperation and sadness that makes it waver.
He puts his hands up slightly, as if to say he surrenders (for now) and he steps back to put some space in between us. A minute later we're taking the stage and I wish I could just go home.
The show itself is miserable. Pete stays on his side of the stage and I stay on mine. Joe tries to keep the energy up but even he can't do it alone. When Pete speaks in between songs occasionally, he sounds so subdued compared to normal and I feel sick thinking, I did that.
My voice sounds weak because it lacks breath support. It's honestly all I can do to breathe as is, much less sing. Panic is gripping my lungs because I know I have to talk to him after this is over. I don't know what the hell to say because there's no way to explain without telling the truth. I've never been a good liar. I want to refuse to talk and just go hide out in the All Time Low bus again, but that's no solution. Besides, I can't bear the thought of losing Pete as a best friend and running away from him for too long would be a great way of causing me to lose him. But the truth? What if the truth makes it awkward and he refuses to let me close ever again?
By the time we get to the last song, I feel like I'm choking out the words more than I'm singing them. When I glance over at Pete, he's looking back at me. Concern and anxiety cross his face and I have to look away again.
Too soon, the show is over and we all head backstage. Everything in me is screaming to run away but instead I sit down on the floor in the dressing room and put my face in my hands. After a few short minutes, I sense someone sit down carefully next to me. He doesn't touch me but he's close enough that the heat from his body does. I exhale shakily.
“You should know that you can't say or do anything to make me stop being your best friend,” Pete says quietly. “You can tell me if I've done something to make you unhappy,besides last night I mean.”
I finally sit up a little and turn to look at him. He has a shirt on now. There's only maybe six inches of space in between us and I know it's only there because he's trying to respect my boundaries. There's so much suffering in his eyes and I just hope I can somehow take it away without destroying our friendship. I want to bury my face in his neck but I don't do it because I was the one that needed space. I lean my head back against the wall and stare straight ahead so I don't have to keep looking at him.
“It's not that simple,” I whisper. “If I tell you, it might change everything. It could ruin everything.”
“And I told you, there's no way you can destroy this. Whatever is going on has you really upset, so as your best friend I need to know. I need to be here for you. Even if...even if I'm the problem.” I can feel his intense gaze on me as he speaks, his voice full of conviction.
“I know better than to tell you this though. There's a reason I've kept this secret from you for years.”
The desperation makes my voice go up an octave and I keep telling myself to stay calm and breathe, and breathe, but my lungs won't listen too well. I feel lightheaded and close my eyes tightly for a moment.
“Years,” he whispers, sounding so...damaged.
I put my hands back over my face as If they'll somehow offer me some extra protection to block out my whole world turning to ashes. They don't. I still feel and it's like having a hurricane in my veins. I try to hold my anguish in but it comes out in a soft sob, which makes me feel that much more pathetic.
“I know you told me not to, but I'm going to touch you,” he says suddenly.
I'm sitting with my knees to my chest and he uses that to his advantage and wraps an arm under my knees and another around my back. It's awkward and just as I'm about to protest he pulls me over and puts me into his lap. He changes his hold so that he has an arm around my waist. I know I should fight him on this but I'm too worn down, so I just turn enough to bury my face in his neck like I've been wanting to this whole time. I expect him to push for an answer but he doesn't yet, he just holds me tighter with one arm, like he's afraid to let go. He uses his free hand to take off my hat and gently stroke my hair. Normally I would probably bitch him out for removing my hat but having him brush his fingers softly through my hair is so soothing. This isn't something I normally let anyone do but then I don't usually sit in anyone's lap either.
At least five minutes pass and I'm trying to gather my courage to tell him how I feel when I hear a female voice I don't recognize.
“Pete, dude, I thought we were going to hang out. Andy said you must still be back here so I hope you don't mind that I came looking for you. You uh...you look kind of occupied.”
I'm guessing this is someone that he planned on “seeing” after the show so I figure there's no real point in sticking around. I can't do this anyway, no matter how many times he tries to assure me that I can. I pull back and use both hands to pry his arm from around me. He stops messing with my hair out of shock and I take the opportunity to stand up quickly. I grab my guitar case and hurry towards the exit.
I get a good head start because I hear him stop to talk to the girl, which makes me grind my teeth a little.
I'm so close to All Time Low's bus, which is lined up with the others behind the venue. I think I've lost him and I'm just starting to feel relief course heavily through my entire being when I hear his voice.
“Trick, wait!” I freeze for a second too long and then his feet are pounding the pavement and suddenly he's too close. He reaches out and gets a hold of my wrist, forcing me to come to a halt.
“Don't,” I tell him, trying to jerk free of his hold. He lets go and I think I might be home free but then he latches both arms around my waist and holds on for dear life.
“Let the fuck go,” I snarl at him, shaking a little, though I'm not sure if it's more from fear or more from anger. I just want to escape the inevitable a bit longer. I don't want to have to lose him forever. At least until the words come out of my throat, I will still have the tiniest bit of illusion left that maybe things won't end badly.
“I'm not letting go until you tell me what's going on with you. You will just have to drag me along with you if you plan on going anywhere,” Pete tells me, much too calmly.
Our own bus is the closest and I'm only barely surprised when we crash into it from my fighting to get him off of me. I feel the way it shakes behind his back and a hysterical laugh escapes from me that sounds like it's being ripped from my throat. (Or maybe just like I'm being ripped open). It's really not funny but at the same time it is because this situation is just ridiculous.
“Why can you never leave well enough alone,Pete,” I ask viciously, shaking him as he continues to cling to me and his eyes are wide with something like fear but he doesn't let go. “I would get over it eventually, I would.”
Am I trying to convince myself or him of that? I don't even believe my own words because if I was going to get over my feelings for him they wouldn't be wreaking havoc on my stomach right about now.
“Well enough? What are you even talking about! You're not doing well, Jesus, anyone can see that. Tell me what it is, Trick. I'm done being patient. We both know I'm not good at that, especially not when it comes to you. I can't keep watching you like this and having you somewhere else is even worse. If you're going to freak out, I need it right in front of me. I could never run away from you.”
His tone is desperate and his voice shakes so much on those last two sentences. It's spears right through my chest and I suffocate. I could never run away from you. He doesn't have to sound accusatory for me to feel the kind of gnawing guilt that could nearly bring me to my knees.
The door to the bus slams open and I hear Andy's voice but I don't look because I'm too focused on Pete. I nearly fall when strong hands suddenly yank me (and the clinging Pete) towards the door.
“Walk,” Joe demands and I do because I can tell this is an intervention that I won't be able to get out of.
Andy is standing by the couch with his arms crossed over his chest when Pete and I sit down on it (don't ask me how he's still hanging on).
“Joe and I are going to go play some xbox with All Time Low. You two are staying here, together, until you work it out, build a bridge and get the fuck over it,” Andy says seriously, his eyes boring into mine until I flinch. His eyes always seem to see too much and I wonder if he knows.
It's really quiet once they vacate the bus and I'm left alone with Pete again. It's probably good that they interceded when they did because I have a feeling that could have ended up as a fistfight at that rate.
“You're going to cut off my circulation if you keep holding on like that,” I say finally, just to break the silence.
He lets go slowly, watching me like he's afraid I'll explode as soon as I'm free of his grip.
“Why would you even want me freaking out right in front of you,” I blurt out, before I realize what I'm asking.
Pete looks at me like I'm genuinely retarded. “You're my best friend, Trick. I just want you, however you are.”
Suddenly I'm swallowing down tears,barely holding it together. What if I was wrong all along? Maybe he can handle this. I know I have to do this so I swallow my fears even though they go down about as easily as rocks. The only thing I have to hold onto is that I get to control how I tell him.
“I'll talk about it but only if you agree to some conditions first,” I tell him.
He responds with a small smile even if it's somewhat strained. “What are they?”
I consider for a moment, trying to make the right moves, whichever ones might keep at least part of us safe. “One, you'll try your hardest not to freak out on me. Two, you promise that you will try to stay friends with me. Three, you'll give me space if I need it.”
Pete looks kind of freaked out already and I'm not about to try to calm him down because I need him to understand how serious this is. “Okay,” he says delicately. The frightened but expectant look on his face adds even more pressure to my chest.
As many times as I've thought of what it might be like to tell him or to be with him, I've never come up with a good way to confess. The silence is a bit heavy and I decide that maybe in this case, actions will speak so much louder than words. I close the space between us until our thighs touch and even now his body is so familiar to me and the heat and energy of it makes me burn and want.
“I think that maybe I can show you a little easier than I can tell you,” I say quietly, sounding so much steadier than I feel. I don't know how he'll react to this but I'm hoping that he'll at least kiss me back, however he feels. That maybe he'll give it a few seconds chance at least, to see if I can set him on fire too. I cup his chin and I lean in slowly so that he can still move away if it's what he wants.
By the time I cover his mouth with mine, he must have gotten over the confusion because he kisses me back. It's a brush of silk at first, so soft; it becomes more certain quickly, firm and full of fervor. It's not enough even as it makes my head swim. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, needing his taste like I've never needed anything. He lets out a soft whimper and my body vibrates in response, a tremor going through me. I want more sound, want to put my hands to good use, want to play him like a guitar.
My tongue slips into his mouth and his taste is so strong that I can't help but moan as I savor it. I slide one hand under his shirt because damn it if I'm going to do this, I'm going all out. His skin is so smooth and I can feel the muscles in his stomach under my hand. It makes me think about what it might be like if he put those muscles to good use with me....I need to feel him move inside of me, need to sink inside of him. I trace the tattoo that rides low on his stomach with my fingertips, going off of memory. That tattoo has featured in so many of my daydreams and it's surreal to be touching it, to be doing any of this. He's not stopping me at all and I want to take that to mean that maybe I can have what I've always wanted but I hesitate to do so without knowing for certain.
I pull away from the kiss, wanting to taste more skin, and he makes a noise of protest that makes me smile. I press open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down to his neck, licking my way from the bottom of his neck to the beginning of his shoulder and back.
“Patrick,” he groans out. “I want you so bad.”
The smile on my face must be huge because it makes him chuckle. Heat is kindling in my stomach, insistent. I slide my hand down over his hip and just under his belt-line, making myself crazy along with him. There are questions that I should be asking both of us but there are too many to worry about right now and this is too good to slow down too much.
I have to say something before I go on though. I can't just let things lie and take what I want. “I love you,” I whisper, staring into his golden-brown eyes. They're so dark and blown wide and it's overwhelming that it's because of me. That little hint of gold in them seems to flare up a little, the way it does when he's happy and I go weak with relief.
“I love you too,” he tells me, his voice thick like honey, sliding down slowly into my heart, making it beat faster.
I reward him with a shower of kisses, covering his neck and as much of his shoulders as I can by pulling at his shirt. I wish he'd just left the shirt off but maybe I can fix that. I want to push him back on this couch but I don't really want Andy and Joe to walk in on us like this.
“Let's go back to the bunks,” I suggest. Seconds later we're stumbling back into my bed and I'm pulling the curtain shut behind us. I put a hand on his chest and push him back gently, pressing our lips together again. I kiss him until my lungs burn from the lack of air, until we're both worked up to the point that we can't stop touching, to the point that my hips are pushing down hard against his mindlessly.
“I need to be closer to you,” I announce breathlessly once I pull back to get some oxygen. My hands are shaking as I push up his shirt and stop just short of taking it off.
“Yes,” Pete chokes out, sitting up just enough for me to get the shirt off. His hands slide under the t-shirt I'm wearing. “I need your skin,” he tells me, his voice so impossibly low. I'm quick to get rid of my own shirt, carelessly tossing it wherever in my haste.
Before I even have a chance to think, his mouth closes on my nipple and I lean heavily on the palms of my hands because suddenly every muscle in my body has turned to hot liquid. “F-fuck,” I groan,unable to help myself. He pulls back after a moment and shifts us so we're on our sides. Then his mouth goes everywhere he can reach...on my chest and neck and stomach. He teases with his tongue and teeth and sucks some of my skin into his mouth, especially when he gets to my hipbones. By the end I'm a whimpering, shaking mess. Never could I have imagined the kind of power he truly has over me, how deeply he makes me ache to make him mine.
When he pauses to breathe, I push him back again, wanting to drive him just as insane as he has me right now. I need to make him need me the way I have him for years. I lavish my attention on him, leaving at least one mark on his neck. I want everyone to see. I caress him with my mouth until his breathing is fast and I stop just above his pants to lick slow, hot lines along his belt-line. I don't think I ever want to taste anything but him again. I reach one hand down and tug at his jeans to request access and when he just moans I take that as a yes. It takes some effort to get them down but he helps me.
It's hard to believe this is real and not just another dream but when I skim my hand over his boxers and finally feel him, it's more real than any other moment has ever been. My senses anchor me here in this instant. The hard warmth under my hand, the desperate way he arches up into my touch, and the way his slightly swollen lips part all make this undeniably tangible. The sound of his unsteady breathing and the soft whine he lets escape his throat almost make me come undone. I need to give him more but there's something I have to hear him say first or so help me, I will stop right now, no matter how much my entire being would protest that.
“I'll do anything to make you feel good, just as long as you tell me what I need to hear,” I say huskily, hoping that he won't deny me this. It's a little fucked up to ask it in this setting but I need to hear it before I can go on.
“What,” Pete questions, his forehead crinkling up just a little in confusion (and maybe frustration because I am not playing fair).
“No one else again,” I demand in a carefully controlled voice, knowing that I'm being much too possessive and half expecting it to send Pete running. We've made no real commitments here, not really, as much as I don't want to think about that. “Say it for me and I'll give you what you want.”
“All I want is you,” Pete whispers, his fingertips suddenly tracing my face reverently. “There'll be no one else again, so long as you'll have me. I love you, Patrick Stump. Forget there was anyone else.”
I didn't really expect him to say that; I don't know what I expected and the sweetness of his response robs my lungs of all breath. “You're all I've ever wanted, the only one I'll ever let completely in.” It feels so good to finally speak the words that it actually hurts a little. “I love everything about you, even the things that drive me insane sometimes.”
He has no idea the number of things that no one else but him knows about me and I'm ready to give him everything else too, including all of the secrets that I keep reigned in tight. He kisses me tenderly and I know that no matter what else happens tonight, my world has changed irrevocably and I will find a kind of completeness in him.
When we separate to breathe, I slide my hand just under the waistband of his boxers and grin. “Should I take care of this for you now,” I ask deviously.
He chuckles a little, his eyes still dark with want. “God, yes,” he replies.
I tug his boxers down and off, somewhat stunned by how exquisitely beautiful that he is now that I've got him laying here with nothing covering his body up. I take a moment just to consume all of him with my eyes. My hand runs gingerly over his chest,my nails grazing his skin as I continue downward until I'm gripping his hip. I lean down and let my breath kiss the tip of his cock, just to watch him shudder.
“So beautiful,” I whisper, my voice all hushed adoration and roughness. “I can't wait to swallow you down. I want to watch your face when you come undone.”
His breathing is heavy as I lick my lips and move closer to brush my mouth over the tip of him, slowly. I get a shaky gasp for my efforts and satisfied with that, I lick him from base to head and then slide my mouth down over him. It feels good to have him fill me up, to be in control of giving him pleasure. I lose myself in the sounds he makes, the strangled moans that seem to increase the tighter my mouth gets around him. I revel in the intimacy of having him inside of a part of me, in the way I can see his mind blur.
When he starts to get a little closer, I pull away for just a brief second. “I want you to pull my hair and fuck my mouth,” I nearly growl.
He lets out a long moan, his hips arching a little as I go back down on him, making sure to angle this so that I can get him in deep. I wrap my hand around what little bit I can't swallow and get a rhythm going between the hot suction of my mouth and my hand.
“Patrick,” he cries out softly, burying one hand in my hair and tugging. That's all the encouragement I need to suck harder, to push my mouth down farther so he hits the back of my throat repeatedly. “Fuck, Trick, I--I can't,” he nearly sobs out when I groan softly around him and he feels the vibration in addition to all the other stimulation.
I grip his hips tight in both hands for an instant, my nails digging in as I pull him in closer and then let go, trying to persuade him to arch his hips a little. That's apparently all he can handle and I try to memorize the way he looks with his face contorted in bliss and the way those soft little noises sound as he does just what I wanted and cums down my throat.
We cuddle close after we're mutually sated, my head resting against his chest. I could stay this way forever, breathing in his smell, his hand lightly stroking through my hair. My hat is probably still backstage somewhere but somehow I just can't seem to be bothered to go find it before we leave. For now my whole world has narrowed down to just one other person and I'm finally not scared of that anymore. After not sleeping last night, I'm pretty exhausted and I keep having to fight waves of contented sleepiness.
“Will you sleep with me tonight,” I ask when I feel like I can't fight it anymore.
“Always,” he whispers.
My heart skips when I look up at him because his lips are curved up into a gentle smile and I know I had something to do with putting it there. I end up falling asleep to the sound of his heart in my ear.