ROCK LEGEND WANTS TO FIGHT!
Title: ROCK LEGEND WANTS TO FIGHT!
Author: ribbonsonwrists
Pairings: Trainer!Patrick/Nuisance!Pete, and Jessie!Andy/James!Matt for an extra lol.
Rating: PG-13. A few fuck bombs, but really not much else.
Word Count: 1040 of pure CRACK.
Summary: "DEE FUCKING SNIDER?" Patrick squeaked, staring at the Electric Gym's leader.
"Well yeah. Come on, Patrick hair like that doesn't just happen, okay?" Pete noted reasonably.
"Squirtle," the turtle added helpfully, then threw his tiny arms around Pete's neck again.
Disclaimer: No harm meant. Not mine, don't know, don't own, don't sue?
Author's notes: For jedi_iwakura and megyal. Thanks to fictionitis_xd for her Poke-love. Includes a shout out to cardel's fic Freaky Friday.. This was so fucking funny to write, I'm totally gonna write the battles. I just had to get this out to the loves of the lazy fic fest. seriously. I love this little crack nugget to death.
Author's Notes part deux: Watch the videos for Hot For Teacher and Dance, Dance to get the last jokes.
TOMMY LEE WANTS TO FIGHT!
"Seriously, Pete? Are those stupid, shitty signs going to pop up every time we're close to danger?"
Pete shifted from foot to foot, bouncing his only Pokemon on his hip. For some reason, he'd taken to the tiny turtle and spoiled it enough to make that annoying Ash kid's stupid Pikachu jealous. "Well, yeah, Patrick. That's how you know a battle's coming and you can pick which of your little buddies you want to send out to fight. Or you can run away like a pussy, but if you wanna be a master, you need to beat the gym leaders. That's Tommy, Gene, Dee, Steve, Mick, Freddie, Eddie, and Bono. In, yanno, no order at all."
"Right. How do you know this? You stopped training before you even got to Tommy's gym. Know what? Never mind. What kind of Pokemon does he use?"
"Rock. Duh."
Of course he'd use rock. Patrick hung his head and sighed, plucking a ball from his hip and hoping Pete hadn't let his Bulbasaur out without feeding him again.
***
Patrick had gone to sleep a normal guy, best friends with a guy who stuff just happened to happen to. No really. Pete had switched bodies with him once, and after they'd stopped freaking out long enough to figure out that it was just their particular brand of luck, they'd had a pretty sweet revelation. Then there was the time Patrick's mom had assumed that Pete had always been a part of the house's furniture and began dusting him, even spraying him with polish before he sputtered and meekly stated that he wasn't a coffee table, he was a Pete, and Petes needed showers not Lemon Fresh Pledge. He was promptly deposited in the shower and scrubbed until he whimpered and begged to be cleaned with Pledge again.
Point is, odd things happened to Pete and whoever was closest to him, which nine times of ten was Patrick. The tenth time was usually Gabe, sometimes Bill and once when he'd become a duck for a week, Jon Walker. Patrick didn't quite know why he still trusted Pete in that innocent "You're Older Than Me, Fix It" way he had, but he did. And now, Patrick was fairly sure the only way to get through this was the way he always did: blindly tumbling through with his hand firmly in Pete's.
***
"Okay, so I'm supposed to have this big ol' speech about how you don't fuck with the Crüe gym and all that shit, but, uh... I'm kinda too stoned to remember it."
At that, a large boulder shaped Pokemon snorted and held up a hand to high five a bulkier snake looking one, before realizing he didn't have hands and awkwardly patted its head. Pete's turtle giggled and let a teeny stream of bubbles out it's nose. Pete immediately began to coo over the CUTENESS before the leader spoke again.
"Huh huh. They like jokes like that. Rock Pokemon, yanno? Stoned? Anyway, it would totally harsh my mellow if we fought -and what the fuck is that sign doing there? I don't want to fight- so I'm gonna hand over the Boulder Badge if you lend me your Charmander to light up."
Pete grinned and stepped forward, the fire Pokemon's ball in his hand. "Deal, Tommy Lee." he grinned and released the little dragon who squealed and held his tail still for the other man. Patrick blinked and shrugged, calling him back after Tommy's thankful sigh and the shiny badge placed firmly in Pete's palm was transferred into Patrick's vest.
***
"DEE FUCKING SNIDER?" Patrick squeaked, staring at the Electric Gym's leader.
"Well yeah. Come on, Patrick hair like that doesn't just happen, okay?" Pete noted reasonably.
"Squirtle," the turtle added helpfully, then threw his tiny arms around Pete's neck again.
Patrick nearly fainted, but instead, pulled out a ball and tossed it, praying that his Digletts wanted to obey him today.
***
"There they are. I hate those brats." Andy huffed and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Pete adjust his turtle's little black and red hoodie. "Them and their stupid Squirtle."
Matt blinked and thought for a minute. "I thought we were after that wicked strong Pikachu. Not a spoiled ass Squirtle."
"Those three have foiled us sixteen of our last eighteen tries!"
"And the other two?" Matt drawled lazily, petting the Poke-snake that had curled up around his waist.
"Those were the times we were having sex and the right group went by."
"Riiiight." Matt smiled smugly and settled in to peer through the bushes as Patrick and Pete walked by them and toward the final gym. "So, Andy, tell me again why you wear that skirt still?"
***
EDDIE VAN HALEN WANTS TO FIGHT!
"Oh Jesus..." Patrick stared at the sign with a kind of resigned stupidity.
"Dude. You're gonna battle Eddie Van Halen. As your best friend, boyfriend and companion, I'd totally advise against it. Pussy out, Patrick. Bravely turn around and RUN."
"Pete."
"Squiiiiirtle!"
"Listen Kerouac, I'm not gonna back out. I beat the other Gym leaders."
"You had a hat-swap with Freddie. That's hardly beating him."
"He had some FANTASTIC hats."
"Spoken like a true gay man. Babe, listen to me, kay? Eddie. Van. Halen."
"You called?"
"We'd like to negotiate the terms of you not killing Patrick and all his Pokebuddies." Pete said delicately. "See he's kind of awesome, and Kerouac here," he hitched the Squirtle higher on his skinny hip "is kind of attached to him and I think he likes the Bulbasaur too, cause they hang out a lot." Pete nodded and let the turtle steal his sun glasses.
"Oh. So. When that happens, there's one thing we do: Dance Off."
Patrick actually fainted.
***
Patrick wasn't sure how his suit got there. He wasn't sure why he was facing an awkward looking Eddie Van Halen in a pink suit and ruffled shirt. He was sure, however, that Pete's Squirtle moonwalked by them and was absolutely positive they both sulked at it and it's little sequined glove.
"Draw?"
"Draw. Fucking turtle."
Author: ribbonsonwrists
Pairings: Trainer!Patrick/Nuisance!Pete, and Jessie!Andy/James!Matt for an extra lol.
Rating: PG-13. A few fuck bombs, but really not much else.
Word Count: 1040 of pure CRACK.
Summary: "DEE FUCKING SNIDER?" Patrick squeaked, staring at the Electric Gym's leader.
"Well yeah. Come on, Patrick hair like that doesn't just happen, okay?" Pete noted reasonably.
"Squirtle," the turtle added helpfully, then threw his tiny arms around Pete's neck again.
Disclaimer: No harm meant. Not mine, don't know, don't own, don't sue?
Author's notes: For jedi_iwakura and megyal. Thanks to fictionitis_xd for her Poke-love. Includes a shout out to cardel's fic Freaky Friday.. This was so fucking funny to write, I'm totally gonna write the battles. I just had to get this out to the loves of the lazy fic fest. seriously. I love this little crack nugget to death.
Author's Notes part deux: Watch the videos for Hot For Teacher and Dance, Dance to get the last jokes.
TOMMY LEE WANTS TO FIGHT!
"Seriously, Pete? Are those stupid, shitty signs going to pop up every time we're close to danger?"
Pete shifted from foot to foot, bouncing his only Pokemon on his hip. For some reason, he'd taken to the tiny turtle and spoiled it enough to make that annoying Ash kid's stupid Pikachu jealous. "Well, yeah, Patrick. That's how you know a battle's coming and you can pick which of your little buddies you want to send out to fight. Or you can run away like a pussy, but if you wanna be a master, you need to beat the gym leaders. That's Tommy, Gene, Dee, Steve, Mick, Freddie, Eddie, and Bono. In, yanno, no order at all."
"Right. How do you know this? You stopped training before you even got to Tommy's gym. Know what? Never mind. What kind of Pokemon does he use?"
"Rock. Duh."
Of course he'd use rock. Patrick hung his head and sighed, plucking a ball from his hip and hoping Pete hadn't let his Bulbasaur out without feeding him again.
***
Patrick had gone to sleep a normal guy, best friends with a guy who stuff just happened to happen to. No really. Pete had switched bodies with him once, and after they'd stopped freaking out long enough to figure out that it was just their particular brand of luck, they'd had a pretty sweet revelation. Then there was the time Patrick's mom had assumed that Pete had always been a part of the house's furniture and began dusting him, even spraying him with polish before he sputtered and meekly stated that he wasn't a coffee table, he was a Pete, and Petes needed showers not Lemon Fresh Pledge. He was promptly deposited in the shower and scrubbed until he whimpered and begged to be cleaned with Pledge again.
Point is, odd things happened to Pete and whoever was closest to him, which nine times of ten was Patrick. The tenth time was usually Gabe, sometimes Bill and once when he'd become a duck for a week, Jon Walker. Patrick didn't quite know why he still trusted Pete in that innocent "You're Older Than Me, Fix It" way he had, but he did. And now, Patrick was fairly sure the only way to get through this was the way he always did: blindly tumbling through with his hand firmly in Pete's.
***
"Okay, so I'm supposed to have this big ol' speech about how you don't fuck with the Crüe gym and all that shit, but, uh... I'm kinda too stoned to remember it."
At that, a large boulder shaped Pokemon snorted and held up a hand to high five a bulkier snake looking one, before realizing he didn't have hands and awkwardly patted its head. Pete's turtle giggled and let a teeny stream of bubbles out it's nose. Pete immediately began to coo over the CUTENESS before the leader spoke again.
"Huh huh. They like jokes like that. Rock Pokemon, yanno? Stoned? Anyway, it would totally harsh my mellow if we fought -and what the fuck is that sign doing there? I don't want to fight- so I'm gonna hand over the Boulder Badge if you lend me your Charmander to light up."
Pete grinned and stepped forward, the fire Pokemon's ball in his hand. "Deal, Tommy Lee." he grinned and released the little dragon who squealed and held his tail still for the other man. Patrick blinked and shrugged, calling him back after Tommy's thankful sigh and the shiny badge placed firmly in Pete's palm was transferred into Patrick's vest.
***
"DEE FUCKING SNIDER?" Patrick squeaked, staring at the Electric Gym's leader.
"Well yeah. Come on, Patrick hair like that doesn't just happen, okay?" Pete noted reasonably.
"Squirtle," the turtle added helpfully, then threw his tiny arms around Pete's neck again.
Patrick nearly fainted, but instead, pulled out a ball and tossed it, praying that his Digletts wanted to obey him today.
***
"There they are. I hate those brats." Andy huffed and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Pete adjust his turtle's little black and red hoodie. "Them and their stupid Squirtle."
Matt blinked and thought for a minute. "I thought we were after that wicked strong Pikachu. Not a spoiled ass Squirtle."
"Those three have foiled us sixteen of our last eighteen tries!"
"And the other two?" Matt drawled lazily, petting the Poke-snake that had curled up around his waist.
"Those were the times we were having sex and the right group went by."
"Riiiight." Matt smiled smugly and settled in to peer through the bushes as Patrick and Pete walked by them and toward the final gym. "So, Andy, tell me again why you wear that skirt still?"
***
EDDIE VAN HALEN WANTS TO FIGHT!
"Oh Jesus..." Patrick stared at the sign with a kind of resigned stupidity.
"Dude. You're gonna battle Eddie Van Halen. As your best friend, boyfriend and companion, I'd totally advise against it. Pussy out, Patrick. Bravely turn around and RUN."
"Pete."
"Squiiiiirtle!"
"Listen Kerouac, I'm not gonna back out. I beat the other Gym leaders."
"You had a hat-swap with Freddie. That's hardly beating him."
"He had some FANTASTIC hats."
"Spoken like a true gay man. Babe, listen to me, kay? Eddie. Van. Halen."
"You called?"
"We'd like to negotiate the terms of you not killing Patrick and all his Pokebuddies." Pete said delicately. "See he's kind of awesome, and Kerouac here," he hitched the Squirtle higher on his skinny hip "is kind of attached to him and I think he likes the Bulbasaur too, cause they hang out a lot." Pete nodded and let the turtle steal his sun glasses.
"Oh. So. When that happens, there's one thing we do: Dance Off."
Patrick actually fainted.
***
Patrick wasn't sure how his suit got there. He wasn't sure why he was facing an awkward looking Eddie Van Halen in a pink suit and ruffled shirt. He was sure, however, that Pete's Squirtle moonwalked by them and was absolutely positive they both sulked at it and it's little sequined glove.
"Draw?"
"Draw. Fucking turtle."