request drabble!
Another one finished! At this pace I'll be done next December or something. I got, like, forty prompts.
For poetrychik, who wanted Patrick/Mikey Way with overprotective Pete and matchmaking Gerard. I was thinking Summer of Like time period, but who knows, right? Ending is lame, as all of my drabble endings tend to be. Whatever.
It took a few days for Patrick to realize Mikey wasn’t hanging around for Pete - although mainly it wasn’t hanging around. It was Gerard showing up at the bus with his arm clamped around Mikey’s shoulders and then disappearing.
“Um.” The first time it happened, Patrick watched Mikey sort of stand there and stare at the ceiling. “Pete’s not here.”
“Okay,” Mikey said, head bobbing. Then he folded himself up on the couch next to Patrick and slipped in some ear buds, and Patrick shrugged and went back to his laptop.
It kept happening, though.
Gerard would shove Mikey up the bus steps and mutter something like, “Perseverance!” or, “Go get ‘em, tiger,” and even when Pete was there Mikey would kind of just stare at Patrick a lot, and it was starting to get a little creepy.
And then. Then Pete got snippy and possessive and weird, even for Pete.
“Pete. Pete, I kind of need to breathe,” Patrick said, because Pete was practically on top of him and had a strangle hold on his neck, arms looped tight. “Seriously,” he gasped. “It would be nice if I could sing tonight, too.”
Pete loosened his grip, but his face didn’t look at all chagrined. He was glaring at Mikey across the lunch tent, who in turn was staring at them with huge, dark, creepy eyes.
“Okay, what? What the hell is going on?” Patrick demanded, and Pete pressed his nose up against his cheek, kept pushing until his face was mashed into his throat and seriously. “Pete.”
Patrick grabbed Pete’s hands - which had been on his thighs, Christ - and shoved him back, and then they kind of scuffled a little, Pete refusing to move and Patrick refusing to let him back onto his lap, god, and Patrick vaguely heard someone shout, “Slap fight!” just as they tipped over the side of the bench and went sprawling in the mud.
Patrick punched Pete in the stomach.
Pete oofed and flopped backwards.
Mikey was standing over them.
Gerard was behind Mikey, grinning, and Patrick bit out, “Okay. Okay, someone want to clue me in here?” because something was going on, and he wanted to know why Pete was suddenly trying to stick his hands down his pants almost daily and why Mikey was suddenly all mute and lurky.
Pete fisted a hand in Patrick’s sleeve. “Patrick. Patrick, Mikey wants to break your fragile heart.”
“Hey!” Mikey said, just as Gerard went, “I’ll break your fragile heart, Wentz,” and by fragile heart he clearly meant femur bone.
And then Gerard said, “Whoops,” and Mikey tripped forward, stumbled over someone’s black shoe and landed on top of Patrick.
“Uh.” Patrick blinked. Mikey was sort of straddling him.
“Hi,” Mikey said. He had a half-smile curving his mouth, and his eyes weren’t all that creepy up close. Kind of pretty, actually.
“Uh.” Patrick cleared his throat. “Yeah. Hi.”
“Patrick!” Pete wailed, and Patrick flicked his gaze over to see Gerard tugging on Pete’s arm, Pete’s other one reaching out towards Patrick, hand opening and closing on air. “Patrick, don’t leave me! Resist the darkness! Vampires will never hurt you!”
Gerard laughed, said, “Come on, Wentz,” and hauled him to his feet. “Frank found a hose.”
“Ooo, naked, wet Iero,” Pete said, bouncing, and then Patrick turned back to Mikey, who looked like he was settled in quite comfortably on top of him.
“So,” Patrick said. “Mikey Way.”
“Patrick Stump,” Mikey said, grinning wider.
Patrick was sitting in mud. It felt pretty disgusting. He kind of didn’t mind right then, though.
For poetrychik, who wanted Patrick/Mikey Way with overprotective Pete and matchmaking Gerard. I was thinking Summer of Like time period, but who knows, right? Ending is lame, as all of my drabble endings tend to be. Whatever.
It took a few days for Patrick to realize Mikey wasn’t hanging around for Pete - although mainly it wasn’t hanging around. It was Gerard showing up at the bus with his arm clamped around Mikey’s shoulders and then disappearing.
“Um.” The first time it happened, Patrick watched Mikey sort of stand there and stare at the ceiling. “Pete’s not here.”
“Okay,” Mikey said, head bobbing. Then he folded himself up on the couch next to Patrick and slipped in some ear buds, and Patrick shrugged and went back to his laptop.
It kept happening, though.
Gerard would shove Mikey up the bus steps and mutter something like, “Perseverance!” or, “Go get ‘em, tiger,” and even when Pete was there Mikey would kind of just stare at Patrick a lot, and it was starting to get a little creepy.
And then. Then Pete got snippy and possessive and weird, even for Pete.
“Pete. Pete, I kind of need to breathe,” Patrick said, because Pete was practically on top of him and had a strangle hold on his neck, arms looped tight. “Seriously,” he gasped. “It would be nice if I could sing tonight, too.”
Pete loosened his grip, but his face didn’t look at all chagrined. He was glaring at Mikey across the lunch tent, who in turn was staring at them with huge, dark, creepy eyes.
“Okay, what? What the hell is going on?” Patrick demanded, and Pete pressed his nose up against his cheek, kept pushing until his face was mashed into his throat and seriously. “Pete.”
Patrick grabbed Pete’s hands - which had been on his thighs, Christ - and shoved him back, and then they kind of scuffled a little, Pete refusing to move and Patrick refusing to let him back onto his lap, god, and Patrick vaguely heard someone shout, “Slap fight!” just as they tipped over the side of the bench and went sprawling in the mud.
Patrick punched Pete in the stomach.
Pete oofed and flopped backwards.
Mikey was standing over them.
Gerard was behind Mikey, grinning, and Patrick bit out, “Okay. Okay, someone want to clue me in here?” because something was going on, and he wanted to know why Pete was suddenly trying to stick his hands down his pants almost daily and why Mikey was suddenly all mute and lurky.
Pete fisted a hand in Patrick’s sleeve. “Patrick. Patrick, Mikey wants to break your fragile heart.”
“Hey!” Mikey said, just as Gerard went, “I’ll break your fragile heart, Wentz,” and by fragile heart he clearly meant femur bone.
And then Gerard said, “Whoops,” and Mikey tripped forward, stumbled over someone’s black shoe and landed on top of Patrick.
“Uh.” Patrick blinked. Mikey was sort of straddling him.
“Hi,” Mikey said. He had a half-smile curving his mouth, and his eyes weren’t all that creepy up close. Kind of pretty, actually.
“Uh.” Patrick cleared his throat. “Yeah. Hi.”
“Patrick!” Pete wailed, and Patrick flicked his gaze over to see Gerard tugging on Pete’s arm, Pete’s other one reaching out towards Patrick, hand opening and closing on air. “Patrick, don’t leave me! Resist the darkness! Vampires will never hurt you!”
Gerard laughed, said, “Come on, Wentz,” and hauled him to his feet. “Frank found a hose.”
“Ooo, naked, wet Iero,” Pete said, bouncing, and then Patrick turned back to Mikey, who looked like he was settled in quite comfortably on top of him.
“So,” Patrick said. “Mikey Way.”
“Patrick Stump,” Mikey said, grinning wider.
Patrick was sitting in mud. It felt pretty disgusting. He kind of didn’t mind right then, though.