The Way You Look - Standalone
Title: The Way You Look
Rating: PG
Pairing: Pete/Mikey
Summary: Mikey Way looks hot dressed in Clandestine, Pete Wentz knew he would. And who says you have to wait for an actual birthday to celebrate? Pete scoffs at your logic.
Disclaimer: This is fictional.
Author's Note: Welcome to the start of my MikeyWay addiction.
"I’ve got something for you Mikey Way."
It wasn’t the words but who they were coming from that made them potentially dangerous. Any sane person would’ve backed away right then and there, but maybe Mikey Way wasn’t all that sane. He never liked labels anyway. Who was to tell him whether or not he was mentally stable. No therapist, that was for sure, he had gone to one once but never bothered going back. He didn’t see a point in sitting on a couch staring at a person across from him while they asked pointless questions he could answer from rote memory; it was their attempt to get to know him better, but truth was Mikey was fine if no one understood him. He could get across a point when it counted, and other than that it didn’t really matter did it. Sinking onto a lumpy couch, he looked up at Pete Wentz. “What’s something?”
The look on Pete’s face meant Mikey had said the right thing. It was one of the younger Way brother’s talents, always knowing what to say and when to say it. People figured he was born with it, since he’d been that way for as long as anyone had known, but it couldn’t have been genetic. Not with the way Gerard constantly burst into conversations only to say something extremely awkward and thought provoking which often effectively ruined the chance of any friendly chatter continuing.
Pete disappeared to the back of the bus, a bounce in his step due to left over energy from the show they had played that night. The summer night had thankfully cooled somewhat, putting everyone at ease, or in the very least Patrick would’ve been on their case about staying up so late. Whereas Pete had fully embraced the lifestyle as a self proclaimed rock god, Patrick was more worried about getting in at least 8 hours of sleep before the next morning. Mikey figured by the sluggish way Patrick had walked past them without a word that they only had an hour before the tired figure showed up to tell them to either go to sleep or get the fuck off the bus. He understood the tour dynamics too well, having been on a number of them himself. Mikey could feel his eyelids begin to droop; exhaustion had reached him hours earlier as he hadn’t slept in what felt like days, but he pushed himself to stay up longer. He remembered what Gerard had said earlier, more lectures about staying out late with strange boys, as if Gerard wouldn’t do the same thing. Mikey didn’t want to be on the bus with Frank and Gerard anyway, not while they tried their hardest to become Frerard. He almost felt like it should bother him more. It didn’t, but still wasn’t something he wanted to observe firsthand. That’s why he had first started with the excursions outside of his band’s home away from home at night; from there it had become habit.
When Pete returned, there box in his arms. The wrapping looked like a monkey had done it, the mangled stick on bow was drastically off center, and the pattern was blue and silver with menorahs on it; it was pretty nice considering.
"Did I miss a holiday?"
Pete shook his head. "Happy birthday, Mikey Way!"
Mikey looked carefully at the other bassist, doing the math from late June to his birthday in his head, before chuckling, "Pete, my birthday is in September."
"It is not."
"Fine, it's not," Mikey conceded, there was no winning that argument either, and his heart wasn't in it anyway. If Pete wanted his birthday to be in late June, then why couldn't it be? He never got to decide when his birthday was in the first place; who was to say he couldn't change it whenever he wished. Time wasn't a fixed constraint. If it made Pete happy to have it at that moment, then Mikey didn't see why not.
"September is too far away anyway," Pete answered, "I couldn't wait that long. He handed over the box and watched eagerly as Mikey opened it. It took much constraint on his part not to rip open the wrapping himself as Mikey ran his fingers along the edges to find the tape before slowly peeling it off and unfolding the colorful paper. It was a level of patience that Pete wasn't used to, but he held back, staring in anticipation at his fellow bassist.
Even as a child, Mikey Way was irritatingly patient. Every holiday he was the last to finish opening his gifts. Gerard had always yelled at him when he was younger since he'd have to wait for Mikey to finish before they could go have breakfast on Christmas mornings, but Mikey liked to take his time. He felt like it would make every good moment last longer, like he could press pause and just stay there in that place forever.
"Pete." Mikey looked up at Wentz, expression cautious.
"Do you like it?"
It was hard to say no to that, and even harder to say no to the look on Pete's face. Mikey pulled the somewhat neatly folded hoodie out of the box. It was black and plain other than the large print graphic on the front which declared in white 'CLANDESTINE INDUSTRIES'. A white bat was tilted at the lower left hand corner, and red stripes filled in the space between the two words.
"It's your company," Mikey states, but Pete already knew that, it was very obvious. Mikey was only trying to convince himself of something. "The new line?"
Pete nodded to confirm, "It's not out yet, I wanted you to be the first. It's great, isn't it?"
The design wasn't bad, that wasn't what bothered Mikey. And what bothered him wasn't much really, it was nothing more than a question in the back of his mind. "Yeah, it's great."
Pete wasn't stupid and he wasn't convinced, "What's wrong?" Most people wouldn't think of Pete as the intuitive kind. He acted like an idiot a lot, and most of the time he barely noticed when there was a problem that needed to be addressed. Months ago it would have slipped his view; Mikey Way was good at hiding what he felt, excellent even, but Pete knew the tells. Most of them were identical to his own.
"I dunno Pete," Mikey laughed, but it was the kind of laugh meant to hide the fact that the question was genuine, "Dressing me up in Clandestine wear? You trying to claim me as your's or something?" The way Mikey phrased it was elegantly light hearted, the elegance coming in with how Mikey managed to make it sound absolutely ordinary.
"Would that be so bad?"
Mikey contemplated that for a moment before slowly shaking his head. "I guess not."
Moving the box aside, Pete straddled Mikey's lap, taking his answer as permission to do as he wished. His fingers quickly found the edge of Mikey's shirt and he inched the fabric up, his palms sliding up Mikey's side as he did so. Mikey watched, not helping but nothing trying to stop him either. Like a doll in Pete's hands, he raised his arms as Pete nudged them, allowing Pete to tug off his shirt completely, leaving his bare chest open to Pete's gentle touches. A silence fell over both of them, but it was comfortable and Mikey felt like he could sit there forever if he needed to. He held eye contact with the other, not staring him down but just giving him a knowing look that Pete shared in return.
Pete reached out and picked up the hoodie, glancing over Mikey before taking Mikey's arms and fumbling them into the new article of clothing. It wasn't complete surrender on Mikey's part, Pete knew that, but it was a measure of trust; a silent statement that for now at least Mikey would let himself be taken.
Mikey's carefully straightened and styled hair was ruined as Pete pulled the hoodie down the rest of the way, but Mikey gave him a warm smile anyway. "Now I'm a target for your fangirls."
Leaning in, Pete smiled back stupidly. His hands found their way back to Mikey's sides. He'd picked out the perfect size; it fit snugly, tight but with room to breathe. "Hey, Mikey Way," Pete was almost too close to Mikey's mouth but Mikey wasn't moving away, "I'll protect you."
Rating: PG
Pairing: Pete/Mikey
Summary: Mikey Way looks hot dressed in Clandestine, Pete Wentz knew he would. And who says you have to wait for an actual birthday to celebrate? Pete scoffs at your logic.
Disclaimer: This is fictional.
Author's Note: Welcome to the start of my MikeyWay addiction.
"I’ve got something for you Mikey Way."
It wasn’t the words but who they were coming from that made them potentially dangerous. Any sane person would’ve backed away right then and there, but maybe Mikey Way wasn’t all that sane. He never liked labels anyway. Who was to tell him whether or not he was mentally stable. No therapist, that was for sure, he had gone to one once but never bothered going back. He didn’t see a point in sitting on a couch staring at a person across from him while they asked pointless questions he could answer from rote memory; it was their attempt to get to know him better, but truth was Mikey was fine if no one understood him. He could get across a point when it counted, and other than that it didn’t really matter did it. Sinking onto a lumpy couch, he looked up at Pete Wentz. “What’s something?”
The look on Pete’s face meant Mikey had said the right thing. It was one of the younger Way brother’s talents, always knowing what to say and when to say it. People figured he was born with it, since he’d been that way for as long as anyone had known, but it couldn’t have been genetic. Not with the way Gerard constantly burst into conversations only to say something extremely awkward and thought provoking which often effectively ruined the chance of any friendly chatter continuing.
Pete disappeared to the back of the bus, a bounce in his step due to left over energy from the show they had played that night. The summer night had thankfully cooled somewhat, putting everyone at ease, or in the very least Patrick would’ve been on their case about staying up so late. Whereas Pete had fully embraced the lifestyle as a self proclaimed rock god, Patrick was more worried about getting in at least 8 hours of sleep before the next morning. Mikey figured by the sluggish way Patrick had walked past them without a word that they only had an hour before the tired figure showed up to tell them to either go to sleep or get the fuck off the bus. He understood the tour dynamics too well, having been on a number of them himself. Mikey could feel his eyelids begin to droop; exhaustion had reached him hours earlier as he hadn’t slept in what felt like days, but he pushed himself to stay up longer. He remembered what Gerard had said earlier, more lectures about staying out late with strange boys, as if Gerard wouldn’t do the same thing. Mikey didn’t want to be on the bus with Frank and Gerard anyway, not while they tried their hardest to become Frerard. He almost felt like it should bother him more. It didn’t, but still wasn’t something he wanted to observe firsthand. That’s why he had first started with the excursions outside of his band’s home away from home at night; from there it had become habit.
When Pete returned, there box in his arms. The wrapping looked like a monkey had done it, the mangled stick on bow was drastically off center, and the pattern was blue and silver with menorahs on it; it was pretty nice considering.
"Did I miss a holiday?"
Pete shook his head. "Happy birthday, Mikey Way!"
Mikey looked carefully at the other bassist, doing the math from late June to his birthday in his head, before chuckling, "Pete, my birthday is in September."
"It is not."
"Fine, it's not," Mikey conceded, there was no winning that argument either, and his heart wasn't in it anyway. If Pete wanted his birthday to be in late June, then why couldn't it be? He never got to decide when his birthday was in the first place; who was to say he couldn't change it whenever he wished. Time wasn't a fixed constraint. If it made Pete happy to have it at that moment, then Mikey didn't see why not.
"September is too far away anyway," Pete answered, "I couldn't wait that long. He handed over the box and watched eagerly as Mikey opened it. It took much constraint on his part not to rip open the wrapping himself as Mikey ran his fingers along the edges to find the tape before slowly peeling it off and unfolding the colorful paper. It was a level of patience that Pete wasn't used to, but he held back, staring in anticipation at his fellow bassist.
Even as a child, Mikey Way was irritatingly patient. Every holiday he was the last to finish opening his gifts. Gerard had always yelled at him when he was younger since he'd have to wait for Mikey to finish before they could go have breakfast on Christmas mornings, but Mikey liked to take his time. He felt like it would make every good moment last longer, like he could press pause and just stay there in that place forever.
"Pete." Mikey looked up at Wentz, expression cautious.
"Do you like it?"
It was hard to say no to that, and even harder to say no to the look on Pete's face. Mikey pulled the somewhat neatly folded hoodie out of the box. It was black and plain other than the large print graphic on the front which declared in white 'CLANDESTINE INDUSTRIES'. A white bat was tilted at the lower left hand corner, and red stripes filled in the space between the two words.
"It's your company," Mikey states, but Pete already knew that, it was very obvious. Mikey was only trying to convince himself of something. "The new line?"
Pete nodded to confirm, "It's not out yet, I wanted you to be the first. It's great, isn't it?"
The design wasn't bad, that wasn't what bothered Mikey. And what bothered him wasn't much really, it was nothing more than a question in the back of his mind. "Yeah, it's great."
Pete wasn't stupid and he wasn't convinced, "What's wrong?" Most people wouldn't think of Pete as the intuitive kind. He acted like an idiot a lot, and most of the time he barely noticed when there was a problem that needed to be addressed. Months ago it would have slipped his view; Mikey Way was good at hiding what he felt, excellent even, but Pete knew the tells. Most of them were identical to his own.
"I dunno Pete," Mikey laughed, but it was the kind of laugh meant to hide the fact that the question was genuine, "Dressing me up in Clandestine wear? You trying to claim me as your's or something?" The way Mikey phrased it was elegantly light hearted, the elegance coming in with how Mikey managed to make it sound absolutely ordinary.
"Would that be so bad?"
Mikey contemplated that for a moment before slowly shaking his head. "I guess not."
Moving the box aside, Pete straddled Mikey's lap, taking his answer as permission to do as he wished. His fingers quickly found the edge of Mikey's shirt and he inched the fabric up, his palms sliding up Mikey's side as he did so. Mikey watched, not helping but nothing trying to stop him either. Like a doll in Pete's hands, he raised his arms as Pete nudged them, allowing Pete to tug off his shirt completely, leaving his bare chest open to Pete's gentle touches. A silence fell over both of them, but it was comfortable and Mikey felt like he could sit there forever if he needed to. He held eye contact with the other, not staring him down but just giving him a knowing look that Pete shared in return.
Pete reached out and picked up the hoodie, glancing over Mikey before taking Mikey's arms and fumbling them into the new article of clothing. It wasn't complete surrender on Mikey's part, Pete knew that, but it was a measure of trust; a silent statement that for now at least Mikey would let himself be taken.
Mikey's carefully straightened and styled hair was ruined as Pete pulled the hoodie down the rest of the way, but Mikey gave him a warm smile anyway. "Now I'm a target for your fangirls."
Leaning in, Pete smiled back stupidly. His hands found their way back to Mikey's sides. He'd picked out the perfect size; it fit snugly, tight but with room to breathe. "Hey, Mikey Way," Pete was almost too close to Mikey's mouth but Mikey wasn't moving away, "I'll protect you."