fic: Star Wars Night
So I have this Pete/Mikey Summer of Like story floating around in my head and it's been proving difficult to pin down. This is just a little ficlet to try to get to know them a little better. Parts of this may or may not resurface in another story in the future.
STAR WARS NIGHT
Pete/Mikey
1095 words; PG
Pete sort of asks Mikey out; Mikey sort of says no.
Mikey's lying on his back, staring up at the clouds and smoking a little joint out of the corner of his mouth. Pete watches where his lips are closed around the shiny paper, watches the curl of smoke getting puffed out Mikey's nostrils. He idly traces the X's inked into his forearm and thinks about touching Mikey's skin instead. They're so different, he thinks, but really alike too. He wonders if Mikey ever has trouble sleeping, or if he's ever drank his own pee for ten bucks.
Then he realizes that there's no reason not to ask.
"Do you ever have trouble sleeping?" Pete asks the air between them. Maybe the question is out of nowhere, but Pete has a feeling like Mikey is the kind of guy who can appreciate that.
"Yeah, sometimes," Mikey says easily, like it isn't something that weighs him down twenty-two consecutive hours a day.
"Okay," Pete says.
He watches a bunch of dudes go by with a keg on a dolly. He can't tell if Mikey's eyes are open or not because he's wearing these ridiculous sunglasses that hide half his face. They look like novelty sunglasses, like they probably aren't prescription. Pete wonders if Mikey would be able to see anything even if his eyes were open.
"Have you ever drank your own pee?" Pete asks into the new quiet.
"No," Mikey says quickly. "Why?"
"Just wondering," Pete tells him. A beat goes by before he asks, "Would you?"
"Probably not," Mikey says, more thoughtfully than Pete would have expected.
"What if it was for a movie?" Pete asks.
Mikey tips his chin down so he's looking at Pete. The ash from the end of his joint drops onto his chest, but he doesn't seem to notice. "What kind of movie? like Jackass?" Pete's about to say yes when Mikey adds, "Or like some weird freaky sex thing?"
"Would that change your answer?" Pete asks. He's aiming for rhetorical but misses, though not by much.
"You know, it might," Mikey says. The edges of his lips curl up, just a little bit, and there's a precarious moment where the burned-down stub of his joint hangs right on the edge of his lip before it falls and lands on his shirt. "Fuck, fuck," Mikey swears, sitting up quickly and brushing himself off. From the corner of his eye, Pete sees the roach roll off to land in the grass. He's mostly just staring at Mikey; it's the most animated he's seen him yet and he's kind of captivated.
"Really?" Pete asks. He cringes a little at the sincerity that snuck into his voice without permission.
Mikey doesn't answer, just keeps giving him this little half-smile as he lies back down.
Pete's heart skips a beat. He tries to be discreet about taking a deep breath before he says, "Are you coming to the kickball game tonight?" He doesn't know why it feels so much like asking Mikey on a date. It shouldn't, it's just Warped kickball. It's not like he'll even get a chance to put the moves on, because everybody's going to be there and Mikey doesn't seem like the kind of guy who's into having an audience.
"Nope," Mikey says.
"Oh." Pete is disappointed, too disappointed for what should just be a minor let-down. Pete is quiet as he tries to decide if he should go with the hard sell or the soft sell to try to convince Mikey he should come.
He's still torn with indecision when Mikey says, "It's Star Wars night on our bus, so."
And that catches Pete's attention. He likes Star Wars! He likes Star Wars a lot, actually. Fuck, Mikey really is perfect.
Mikey is also still talking. "It's always comedy gold watching Gee and Ray try to outdo each other coming up with new ways to diss Episode One. I can't miss that, you know?"
"Did you just say diss?" Pete blurts out. That's not what he was going to say but it's better than some of the other options, as far as word vomit goes.
"I did," Mikey says placidly. His phone beeps with a text message, and he somehow manages to slide it out of his back pocket without really moving at all. He reads it quickly, then flips the screen shut again and puts it away in a single motion. "They're starting now, I guess," he says, and then sits up again, then climbs to his feet.
It's the least graceful thing Pete has ever seen, but there's this lump in his throat that's keeping him from laughing.
Mikey looks down at him, his face inscrutable behind the giant dumb sunglasses. Pete stares back. Mikey's half-smile is gone. Pete misses it a lot already.
"Do you like Star Wars?" Mikey asks him then.
"Do I like Star Wars," Pete repeats like it's the dumbest fucking question in the history of stupid questions.
"Do you?" Mikey repeats. He sounds sort of irritated, and Pete really hopes he didn't just take that as Pete mocking him.
"Fuck yes," Pete assures him. "i have so many action figures, man, you should see my room-" He cuts himself off when he realizes what he just invited Mikey to do. At least it wasn't outright propositioning him, Pete thinks, although asking a Star Wars nerd if he wants to see your Star Wars figures may as well count as the same thing. Pete could live with it if it does. Maybe he'll try that line again when Warped rolls into Chicago and see where it gets him.
Anyway, it was clearly the right answer because Mikey looks a lot more relaxed all of a sudden. Pete hadn't even realized he was tense, but it's obvious now with how his posture's changed. It looks like Pete's going to have to spend a lot more time watching Mikey to get him figured out. Pete has no problem with this at all.
"Do you want to come?" Mikey asks.
Pete's mouth goes dry. "To Star Wars night? Your band won't mind?"
Mikey shrugs.
"I'd love to," Pete says, and he hops to his feet.
When Mikey gestures at one end of the parking lot and then starts walking towards it, Pete takes the two steps to catch up with him and then links his arm through Mikey's. Mikey gives him a quick look from behind the edge of his sunglasses but he doesn't say anything and doesn't remove his arm.
That settles it: Pete is officially in love.
STAR WARS NIGHT
Pete/Mikey
1095 words; PG
Pete sort of asks Mikey out; Mikey sort of says no.
Mikey's lying on his back, staring up at the clouds and smoking a little joint out of the corner of his mouth. Pete watches where his lips are closed around the shiny paper, watches the curl of smoke getting puffed out Mikey's nostrils. He idly traces the X's inked into his forearm and thinks about touching Mikey's skin instead. They're so different, he thinks, but really alike too. He wonders if Mikey ever has trouble sleeping, or if he's ever drank his own pee for ten bucks.
Then he realizes that there's no reason not to ask.
"Do you ever have trouble sleeping?" Pete asks the air between them. Maybe the question is out of nowhere, but Pete has a feeling like Mikey is the kind of guy who can appreciate that.
"Yeah, sometimes," Mikey says easily, like it isn't something that weighs him down twenty-two consecutive hours a day.
"Okay," Pete says.
He watches a bunch of dudes go by with a keg on a dolly. He can't tell if Mikey's eyes are open or not because he's wearing these ridiculous sunglasses that hide half his face. They look like novelty sunglasses, like they probably aren't prescription. Pete wonders if Mikey would be able to see anything even if his eyes were open.
"Have you ever drank your own pee?" Pete asks into the new quiet.
"No," Mikey says quickly. "Why?"
"Just wondering," Pete tells him. A beat goes by before he asks, "Would you?"
"Probably not," Mikey says, more thoughtfully than Pete would have expected.
"What if it was for a movie?" Pete asks.
Mikey tips his chin down so he's looking at Pete. The ash from the end of his joint drops onto his chest, but he doesn't seem to notice. "What kind of movie? like Jackass?" Pete's about to say yes when Mikey adds, "Or like some weird freaky sex thing?"
"Would that change your answer?" Pete asks. He's aiming for rhetorical but misses, though not by much.
"You know, it might," Mikey says. The edges of his lips curl up, just a little bit, and there's a precarious moment where the burned-down stub of his joint hangs right on the edge of his lip before it falls and lands on his shirt. "Fuck, fuck," Mikey swears, sitting up quickly and brushing himself off. From the corner of his eye, Pete sees the roach roll off to land in the grass. He's mostly just staring at Mikey; it's the most animated he's seen him yet and he's kind of captivated.
"Really?" Pete asks. He cringes a little at the sincerity that snuck into his voice without permission.
Mikey doesn't answer, just keeps giving him this little half-smile as he lies back down.
Pete's heart skips a beat. He tries to be discreet about taking a deep breath before he says, "Are you coming to the kickball game tonight?" He doesn't know why it feels so much like asking Mikey on a date. It shouldn't, it's just Warped kickball. It's not like he'll even get a chance to put the moves on, because everybody's going to be there and Mikey doesn't seem like the kind of guy who's into having an audience.
"Nope," Mikey says.
"Oh." Pete is disappointed, too disappointed for what should just be a minor let-down. Pete is quiet as he tries to decide if he should go with the hard sell or the soft sell to try to convince Mikey he should come.
He's still torn with indecision when Mikey says, "It's Star Wars night on our bus, so."
And that catches Pete's attention. He likes Star Wars! He likes Star Wars a lot, actually. Fuck, Mikey really is perfect.
Mikey is also still talking. "It's always comedy gold watching Gee and Ray try to outdo each other coming up with new ways to diss Episode One. I can't miss that, you know?"
"Did you just say diss?" Pete blurts out. That's not what he was going to say but it's better than some of the other options, as far as word vomit goes.
"I did," Mikey says placidly. His phone beeps with a text message, and he somehow manages to slide it out of his back pocket without really moving at all. He reads it quickly, then flips the screen shut again and puts it away in a single motion. "They're starting now, I guess," he says, and then sits up again, then climbs to his feet.
It's the least graceful thing Pete has ever seen, but there's this lump in his throat that's keeping him from laughing.
Mikey looks down at him, his face inscrutable behind the giant dumb sunglasses. Pete stares back. Mikey's half-smile is gone. Pete misses it a lot already.
"Do you like Star Wars?" Mikey asks him then.
"Do I like Star Wars," Pete repeats like it's the dumbest fucking question in the history of stupid questions.
"Do you?" Mikey repeats. He sounds sort of irritated, and Pete really hopes he didn't just take that as Pete mocking him.
"Fuck yes," Pete assures him. "i have so many action figures, man, you should see my room-" He cuts himself off when he realizes what he just invited Mikey to do. At least it wasn't outright propositioning him, Pete thinks, although asking a Star Wars nerd if he wants to see your Star Wars figures may as well count as the same thing. Pete could live with it if it does. Maybe he'll try that line again when Warped rolls into Chicago and see where it gets him.
Anyway, it was clearly the right answer because Mikey looks a lot more relaxed all of a sudden. Pete hadn't even realized he was tense, but it's obvious now with how his posture's changed. It looks like Pete's going to have to spend a lot more time watching Mikey to get him figured out. Pete has no problem with this at all.
"Do you want to come?" Mikey asks.
Pete's mouth goes dry. "To Star Wars night? Your band won't mind?"
Mikey shrugs.
"I'd love to," Pete says, and he hops to his feet.
When Mikey gestures at one end of the parking lot and then starts walking towards it, Pete takes the two steps to catch up with him and then links his arm through Mikey's. Mikey gives him a quick look from behind the edge of his sunglasses but he doesn't say anything and doesn't remove his arm.
That settles it: Pete is officially in love.