disturbia au, pxp [1/4]
title. my mind holds the key
pairing. pxp (like my mind knows something else), implied petexryan
rating. r, overall, a later chapter may be nc-17.
summary. Patrick has just moved to the middle of nowhere, from Chicago, as his parents try to save their marriage. In suburbia, he meets Pete Wentz--his 'vicious' next door neighbor who's under house arrest.
author's note's. Originally intended to be a one shot, this got out of control. I decided to make it a mini-chapter fic. Inspired by the movie Disturbia, and some elements from the movie will be present. Except for the serial killer. Many, many, many thanks to both
angelcakes694 and
lkd_n_gabesbsmt for various AIM conversations and help at various points in time!
x-posted to communities later, in the morning. also, if there are any mistakes, i'll fix those in the morning--just be kind f-list so please point them out.
"Patrick, honey, there is something we need to tell you about our new neighborhood."
The teenager rolled his eyes, his face still squashed up against the cool glass of the back seat in the SUV that was beginning to pull into a residential area--away from the strip of what this place apparently called "Main Street." Patrick was far from impressed with what he had seen.
"Yes ma'am." He said, giving the signal for his mother to continue with her worried tone.
"Next door--well, there's a boy under house arrest. I think he got into a scuffle with one of his teachers. Now, I don't want you getting near him. There's no telling what he would do to someone his own age."
"Yes ma'am, I will stay away from the blood thirsty boy living next door to us in suburbia." Patrick said with a sigh of frustration. He had his fingers crossed out of his parents line of sight, childishly. He was pissed enough at them for dragging him out of Chicago to this little shit town.
"Patrick." His father warned, and Patrick mumbled out an apology as they pulled into the drive way of a two-story completely respectable and three-times too big house. The moving van pulled up right in front of the yard, and everyone started pulling out of their seat-belts and cars. Patrick grabbed his duffel-bag and laptop case and informed his parents that he remembered which room was his and he took the walk way to the back of the house--taking the black metal stairs towards the back room on the second floor.
He looked to the house next door, over the shrubs, and could have sworn he saw a teenage-sized blur pass by the open window.
***
"Do you need some help with that?" Patrick was very amused at his neighbors current situation. The "blood thirsty boy" was currently bending his arm at an odd angle trying to reach his mailbox--that had an oddly sized package sticking out of it.
"No." He replied with a grimace as he grabbed the corner of the package leaning forward just a little more. A loud beeping emitted from behind the shrub and the boy leaned forward quickly grabbing the package and jerking back, disappearing for a moment before his head popped back up again. "You're the new neighbor."
Patrick nodded, "And you're the blood thirsty teacher-puncher that my Mom warned me about."
The tan boy laughed bitterly, a bit of a grin slipping over his lips, "Yeah, that's me. Pete. Care to divulge a name for me?"
"I dunno." Patrick shrugged, "My mom told me not to talk to you."
Pete chuckled again, this time much more lightheartedly, "Oh, yeah. And every teenage boy who gets dragged out to Suburbia always listens to his mom."
Patrick grinned in response, "Patrick from Chicago. I hate this place, frankly. I'm just glad that I don't have to go to school until after the Winter break is over."
"Haha. I've still got two months out of that hell hole. Before I get a load of shit from my ex-ex-bestfriend about punching his cousin."
"Wait--ex-ex-bestfriend . . . wouldn't that mean you're friends again?"
"No. It means that we're not even ex-bestfriends anymore. We've stooped down to the level of being mortal enemies until next year when we forget the whole thing and laugh and go out and grafitti behind the shitty bar on the bad end of Main Street."
"Main Street isn't big enough to have a shitty end." Patrick said, flatly.
"Oh-ho-ho. You have a lot to learn about small town life. Oh, hey, you know what--your mom is down the street." He said, squinting. "Hey--hey, got a cell phone?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"I want your number new kid, duh." He said, rolling his eyes. Patrick chuckled softly and gave him his number and then tore off up the drive way.
***
"Patrick from Chicago, is this you?"
Patrick laughed and made himself more comfortable in his chair at his desk, "Yeah, this is me. Is this the blood thirsty next door neighbor?"
"Yup, that's me. So, hey. Look outside of your window. No--not that one. The other one. Yeah, facing my house."
"Dude, that's fucking creepy." Patrick looked over, leaning a little bit and squinting--he could see a vaguely-Pete shaped blur with what looked like binoculars.
"Maybe. D'you wanna come over to my house for pizza and a movie tomorrow?"
Patrick paused for a moment--not quite sure if he was hearing right. "I dunno--You are a blood thirsty teenager. That can't be safe for me--besides tomorrow is Saturday. I do have new school friends you know.."
"Oh whatever. But, Yeah, maybe not. You can lock up all the kitchen knives if you want too." Pete chuckled through the slightly fuzzy phone signal. "Seriously dude. I have blankets and hot chocolate."
"What exactly?"
"Do I have to spell it out for you, new kid?" Pete chuckled, "I'm asking you on a date--but I can't exactly leave my house for, like, a month and a half and I really don't want to wait that long to ask you."
Patrick couldn't help but turn a little red, "I gave you my number, like, two weeks ago."
"Yeah, but the thing is--you're cute and you look pretty damn straight. I spent all of that convincing myself that it was a good idea to call you."
He smiled a little. "Yeah, sure. What time?"
"Umm, my Mom's out for the rest of the weekend at some kind of convention--so anytime is cool for me. You?"
"Heh. My Mom has no clue if I'm here or not." Patrick said, rolling his eyes, "But dude--it's totally sketchy that you're inviting me when you're home alone."
Patrick could almost hear Pete's smug grin, "Yeah. But seriously, you can trust me."
***
The movie ended up being more of them talking--about music and songs and Suburbia, and then, hey--there were ending credits in the background.
Patrick was a little stunned when the music started playing--he didn't realize that much time had passed, it was only five-thirty, but as the Winter months were, the sun was already pretty low.
"Wow. Dude, you're totally stealing away my un-packing time." Patrick complained, half-heartedly.
Pete rolled his eyes, grinning bright and wide in a way that Patrick realized he did when something really amused him. Pete was pretty easy to read, but Patrick had a feeling there would never cease to be something new for him to learn about how to read Pete. There was just something about him.
"So, new kid. Am I safe enough for you?"
"I'm pretty sure you're not going to pull out a knife on me."
"Can I test my limits?"
"What do you mean?"
"Tell me when I'm not safe." Pete replied, shifting on the couch so he was closer to Patrick, and Patrick instinctively pushed back into the couch as Pete leaned forward, tilting his head and breathing on Patrick's neck.
Patrick took a moment, "Safe."
Pete trailed his nose up Patrick's throat, moving his head and ghosting his lips over Patrick's jaw bone, until they were right over Patrick's lips.
"Safe." He whispered, softly, barely opening his lips to say the words before Pete was kissing him, for the first few moments soft and light--but Patrick's lips parted around the word once again and then Pete had no restraints--kissing him hard and fast, shifting so Patrick was on his back and Pete was leaning over him.
Suddenly Patrick's phone started ringing from his pocket, a distinctive continuous chorus of "Dun dun dun." Pete pulled back and chuckled a little, letting Patrick pull his phone out of his pocket, flipping it open and putting it to his ear.
"Hey Mom, yeah. I'm just walking around, yeah. I'll be fine. No, you don't have to come and get me from anywhere. I'll be home soon, promise. Bye." He said, closing his phone, turning back to Pete red faced, "Umm. Sorry about that." He laughed nervously.
"Yeah, Mom's ruin everything." He said, softly, leaning back down, pressing his lips against Patrick's again, "You still have to tell me when I'm in a danger zone." He chuckled.
"You are now, Pete. If I'm not home, Mom will tell Dad and then Dad will freak out and life will be horrible."
Pete scrunched his nose up, "You're such a goody-two-shoes." He said grinning, "So, you should totally come over again tomorrow."
"I can't." Patrick said, "I really have to get some packing undone. I hate boxes piled up in my room. I really want to get everything knocked out."
"I'd help you if I could." Pete said, laughing a little.
"I don't really think that you would."
pairing. pxp (like my mind knows something else), implied petexryan
rating. r, overall, a later chapter may be nc-17.
summary. Patrick has just moved to the middle of nowhere, from Chicago, as his parents try to save their marriage. In suburbia, he meets Pete Wentz--his 'vicious' next door neighbor who's under house arrest.
author's note's. Originally intended to be a one shot, this got out of control. I decided to make it a mini-chapter fic. Inspired by the movie Disturbia, and some elements from the movie will be present. Except for the serial killer. Many, many, many thanks to both
angelcakes694 and
lkd_n_gabesbsmt for various AIM conversations and help at various points in time!
x-posted to communities later, in the morning. also, if there are any mistakes, i'll fix those in the morning--just be kind f-list so please point them out.
"Patrick, honey, there is something we need to tell you about our new neighborhood."
The teenager rolled his eyes, his face still squashed up against the cool glass of the back seat in the SUV that was beginning to pull into a residential area--away from the strip of what this place apparently called "Main Street." Patrick was far from impressed with what he had seen.
"Yes ma'am." He said, giving the signal for his mother to continue with her worried tone.
"Next door--well, there's a boy under house arrest. I think he got into a scuffle with one of his teachers. Now, I don't want you getting near him. There's no telling what he would do to someone his own age."
"Yes ma'am, I will stay away from the blood thirsty boy living next door to us in suburbia." Patrick said with a sigh of frustration. He had his fingers crossed out of his parents line of sight, childishly. He was pissed enough at them for dragging him out of Chicago to this little shit town.
"Patrick." His father warned, and Patrick mumbled out an apology as they pulled into the drive way of a two-story completely respectable and three-times too big house. The moving van pulled up right in front of the yard, and everyone started pulling out of their seat-belts and cars. Patrick grabbed his duffel-bag and laptop case and informed his parents that he remembered which room was his and he took the walk way to the back of the house--taking the black metal stairs towards the back room on the second floor.
He looked to the house next door, over the shrubs, and could have sworn he saw a teenage-sized blur pass by the open window.
***
"Do you need some help with that?" Patrick was very amused at his neighbors current situation. The "blood thirsty boy" was currently bending his arm at an odd angle trying to reach his mailbox--that had an oddly sized package sticking out of it.
"No." He replied with a grimace as he grabbed the corner of the package leaning forward just a little more. A loud beeping emitted from behind the shrub and the boy leaned forward quickly grabbing the package and jerking back, disappearing for a moment before his head popped back up again. "You're the new neighbor."
Patrick nodded, "And you're the blood thirsty teacher-puncher that my Mom warned me about."
The tan boy laughed bitterly, a bit of a grin slipping over his lips, "Yeah, that's me. Pete. Care to divulge a name for me?"
"I dunno." Patrick shrugged, "My mom told me not to talk to you."
Pete chuckled again, this time much more lightheartedly, "Oh, yeah. And every teenage boy who gets dragged out to Suburbia always listens to his mom."
Patrick grinned in response, "Patrick from Chicago. I hate this place, frankly. I'm just glad that I don't have to go to school until after the Winter break is over."
"Haha. I've still got two months out of that hell hole. Before I get a load of shit from my ex-ex-bestfriend about punching his cousin."
"Wait--ex-ex-bestfriend . . . wouldn't that mean you're friends again?"
"No. It means that we're not even ex-bestfriends anymore. We've stooped down to the level of being mortal enemies until next year when we forget the whole thing and laugh and go out and grafitti behind the shitty bar on the bad end of Main Street."
"Main Street isn't big enough to have a shitty end." Patrick said, flatly.
"Oh-ho-ho. You have a lot to learn about small town life. Oh, hey, you know what--your mom is down the street." He said, squinting. "Hey--hey, got a cell phone?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"I want your number new kid, duh." He said, rolling his eyes. Patrick chuckled softly and gave him his number and then tore off up the drive way.
***
"Patrick from Chicago, is this you?"
Patrick laughed and made himself more comfortable in his chair at his desk, "Yeah, this is me. Is this the blood thirsty next door neighbor?"
"Yup, that's me. So, hey. Look outside of your window. No--not that one. The other one. Yeah, facing my house."
"Dude, that's fucking creepy." Patrick looked over, leaning a little bit and squinting--he could see a vaguely-Pete shaped blur with what looked like binoculars.
"Maybe. D'you wanna come over to my house for pizza and a movie tomorrow?"
Patrick paused for a moment--not quite sure if he was hearing right. "I dunno--You are a blood thirsty teenager. That can't be safe for me--besides tomorrow is Saturday. I do have new school friends you know.."
"Oh whatever. But, Yeah, maybe not. You can lock up all the kitchen knives if you want too." Pete chuckled through the slightly fuzzy phone signal. "Seriously dude. I have blankets and hot chocolate."
"What exactly?"
"Do I have to spell it out for you, new kid?" Pete chuckled, "I'm asking you on a date--but I can't exactly leave my house for, like, a month and a half and I really don't want to wait that long to ask you."
Patrick couldn't help but turn a little red, "I gave you my number, like, two weeks ago."
"Yeah, but the thing is--you're cute and you look pretty damn straight. I spent all of that convincing myself that it was a good idea to call you."
He smiled a little. "Yeah, sure. What time?"
"Umm, my Mom's out for the rest of the weekend at some kind of convention--so anytime is cool for me. You?"
"Heh. My Mom has no clue if I'm here or not." Patrick said, rolling his eyes, "But dude--it's totally sketchy that you're inviting me when you're home alone."
Patrick could almost hear Pete's smug grin, "Yeah. But seriously, you can trust me."
***
The movie ended up being more of them talking--about music and songs and Suburbia, and then, hey--there were ending credits in the background.
Patrick was a little stunned when the music started playing--he didn't realize that much time had passed, it was only five-thirty, but as the Winter months were, the sun was already pretty low.
"Wow. Dude, you're totally stealing away my un-packing time." Patrick complained, half-heartedly.
Pete rolled his eyes, grinning bright and wide in a way that Patrick realized he did when something really amused him. Pete was pretty easy to read, but Patrick had a feeling there would never cease to be something new for him to learn about how to read Pete. There was just something about him.
"So, new kid. Am I safe enough for you?"
"I'm pretty sure you're not going to pull out a knife on me."
"Can I test my limits?"
"What do you mean?"
"Tell me when I'm not safe." Pete replied, shifting on the couch so he was closer to Patrick, and Patrick instinctively pushed back into the couch as Pete leaned forward, tilting his head and breathing on Patrick's neck.
Patrick took a moment, "Safe."
Pete trailed his nose up Patrick's throat, moving his head and ghosting his lips over Patrick's jaw bone, until they were right over Patrick's lips.
"Safe." He whispered, softly, barely opening his lips to say the words before Pete was kissing him, for the first few moments soft and light--but Patrick's lips parted around the word once again and then Pete had no restraints--kissing him hard and fast, shifting so Patrick was on his back and Pete was leaning over him.
Suddenly Patrick's phone started ringing from his pocket, a distinctive continuous chorus of "Dun dun dun." Pete pulled back and chuckled a little, letting Patrick pull his phone out of his pocket, flipping it open and putting it to his ear.
"Hey Mom, yeah. I'm just walking around, yeah. I'll be fine. No, you don't have to come and get me from anywhere. I'll be home soon, promise. Bye." He said, closing his phone, turning back to Pete red faced, "Umm. Sorry about that." He laughed nervously.
"Yeah, Mom's ruin everything." He said, softly, leaning back down, pressing his lips against Patrick's again, "You still have to tell me when I'm in a danger zone." He chuckled.
"You are now, Pete. If I'm not home, Mom will tell Dad and then Dad will freak out and life will be horrible."
Pete scrunched his nose up, "You're such a goody-two-shoes." He said grinning, "So, you should totally come over again tomorrow."
"I can't." Patrick said, "I really have to get some packing undone. I hate boxes piled up in my room. I really want to get everything knocked out."
"I'd help you if I could." Pete said, laughing a little.
"I don't really think that you would."