Fic: The Wannabe Rockstar Meets Pete F*cking Wentz [Cook/Pete, pg-13, one-shot]
Title: The Wannabe Rockstar Meets Pete F*cking Wentz
Author: tinkertoo // Zach
Pairing: David Cook/Pete Wentz
Rating: pg-13 for language and alcohol
Word Count: 2,188
Summary: Pete and David first meet at a release party and manage to keep in touch, but only via text messages and the occasional phone call. When they meet up in person again, there's something more between them.
Warnings: mild amount of cursing. I seem to like refering to Pete as 'Pete Fucking Wentz' a lot
A/N: For thethingiswhat for winning my auction at help_haiti. She requested David Cook/Pete Wentz with the prompt "They meet at some event, strike up a friendship but since they both move around a lot it's hard to keep up more than just a quick call, text, tweet, etc. Then they meet up again at a different event and, you know, there's something there" because of this picture. Kat, you said take the prompt and run with it, that's kind of what I did. Also, this was a bitch to finish after the news about Fall Out Boy made me all pissed off at Pete, but I finally got it done =)
A/N 2: Yes, I know how ridiculous the title is. It's all I could think of.
CD release parties were supposed to be fun, filled with chatter about music, fueled by alcohol. They had become highlights of David’s celebrity life in the past year. But this one...not so much chatter and fun and maybe he felt a little out of place in the crowd and maybe there wasn’t enough alcohol to make him feel comfortable.
He was sort of laying low, staying out of everyone’s way, so it shocked the hell out of him when Pete Fucking Wentz was right there in front of him.
“I thought alone in this crowded room was just a line in a song, why are you over here all alone?” Surprisingly, his tone wasn’t mocking or mean, more playful than anything else.
“You know my songs.” That was beyond a compliment, coming from Pete anyway, music god of today. In response to the question, he shrugged. “No one interesting seemed to be interested in being social.” At the look on Pete’s face, he quickly added, “until now,” which made the other man smile.
“You seem pretty interesting too. Glad I snatched your attention before anyone else.” That made David smile more than it should have. Sure, he was used to getting compliments by now, but not from other celebrities (David Archuleta and Michael Johns excluded of course) and especially not from stars as big as Pete Fucking Wentz. He was a little overwhelmed, but not way would he show it, not when Pete seemed so cool and relaxed.
He got over being star-struck (or would like to say he was, but in reality there was no way to not feel both intimidated and in awe in the man’s presence) and they were able to carry on a normal conversation (well, as normal as a conversation can be with Pete Wentz) that spanned the entire rest of the release party. David was fascinated by Pete’s experiences and by all the crazy shit that went on inside his head, and Pete seemed to be fascinated with David’s everything, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what Pete found so interesting about the wannabe (now was) rockstar that by some brilliant luck had won a televised singing competition. Not that he was complaining about the attention at all, he actually kind of liked it.
It was well after midnight when they finally realized the time and that they both had obligations the following morning and they should probably get some sleep so neither would be zombies while being interviewed. Pete was the one to suggest that they swap numbers and keep in touch, and David was more than a little happy about that. After all, how many people could say they kept in touch with Pete Fucking Wentz? Plus he was an awesome guy that David definitely would love to hang out with again.
Dave! what’s up man?
Okay, he gets tons of messages in any one day, most of them don’t surprise him anymore. But he does lighten up a little bit, with a ridiculous smile on his face, when 1 new message from: Pete Wentz shows up on his phone. Honestly, he thought Pete was just being nice in giving him his number, but maybe he had wanted to keep in touch. God, he was overanalyzing this too much, that needed to stop and he needed to just read and answer the message.
trying this writing thing. this shit’s harder than it seems, ya know? what’s going on in the life of pete wentz?
No, he wasn’t sitting in wait for another message, that’d be ridiculous. He’d picked his guitar back up, was playing some random chords, trying to make something sound good, absentmindedly glancing over at his phone every couple of seconds. He didn’t jump that much when it buzzed on the table beside him again.
failing at this writing thing. needed a distraction. you busy or just wasting time?
just wasting time. trying but failing to get something done. how’ve you been?
The texts continued like that for pretty much the entire day. Surprisingly, Pete was almost as interesting in text as he was in person, and he was less intimidating. He probably wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but David had somehow lost track of everything else he was supposed to be doing that day, making the highlight of his day his text conversation with Pete.
After that day, they still kept in touch via texts, but the conversations were much shorter and never full day occurrences again. That day had to have been one of the rare times that Pete wasn’t busy (he was Pete Fucking Wentz after all, he was usually a busy guy). David still hadn’t figured out why he’d wanted to spend his off day texting an American Idol winner instead of doing something more productive or fun, but again David would never complain about the attention.
There were occasional calls too. Always from Pete, because David somehow never felt right being the one to call him (maybe it was because he never knew when Pete wouldn’t be busy or maybe he just didn’t want to seem too much like a fan instead of a friend or acquaintance or whatever he was to Pete).
Though there were quite a few texts and some calls scattered here and there, they hadn’t seen each other since the release party. It wasn’t like they didn’t want to meet face to face again (or at least David did), but that their schedules were so hectic it wasn’t allowed. David was writing again and Pete was doing god knows what, and they were never in the same place at the same time. David totally wasn’t following his tweets on his phone to figure out where he was, really, he just happened to know that the schedules didn’t permit another meeting.
Until they did. It was at some other big event David had been forced into attending by the label (“There will be a lot of big names there, it’ll look good for you to start going to these things.”) He had no clue what “big names” were on the guest list, but it seemed to be another of those boring parties with no alcohol and no real entertainment.
He was doing his usual routine for this kind of event: walk around, look like he belonged, mingle with the few celebrities who looked like they didn’t have their heads up their asses. It was when he pulled himself away from the snotty crowd to get a moment alone that he felt arms wrap around his waist. He tensed up until he heard the voice; somehow it instantly made him relax.
“You’re a hard guy to catch, you know that?” There was a laugh at the end and David turned in Pete’s arms.
“Me?” He let out a laugh of his own. “You’ve been all over the world in a few months, and I’m the hard one to find.”
Pete smirked and finally released him. “You should call more, we could’ve meet up sooner.”
“You should have more free time, I’m always available.” He ended the sentence before the words ’for you,’ could be tacked onto the end of it.
“Good to know. Let’s get out of theis place then, I could really use a drink, and it looks like you could too.”
Apparently, ‘get out of here’ meant go back to Pete’s hotel and raid the mini-bar, which had a shockingly nice selection, which meant a lot of beer that was gone in almost no time. David found himself sprawled out on a nice hotel bed with Pete collapsed on top of him in laughter. He wished he could remember what was so funny, but the alcohol made his brain fuzzy, he barely remembered how he ended up there in the first place. All he knew was that Pete’s weight felt really nice on top of him and he really liked his laugh.
“We have to do this more. I like you drunk.” Even Pete’s slur was cute. David decided he needed to get him drunk more often. Or just be around him more often, though drunken Pete Wentz was probably even more fun when David wasn’t just as far gone and could respond with more than a nod.
And then something happened that David registered with every nerve in his body but would later force himself to try to forget. Pete’s lips were on his, soft and warm and tasting of all different brands of alcohol and something else that was just Pete. It was sloppy, and fueled by drunken minds, and went no further than to end with Pete passing out of top of him some point later in the night.
The next morning, barring the hangover, David felt pretty good and he couldn’t (correction, wouldn’t let himself) remember why. It probably had something to do with the nice warm body curled up against him. Pete’s eyes opened seconds after David’s, and all he could do was smile and pretend to have no memory of the night before as Pete asked what happened.
“Too much alcohol. Makes you pass out in your clothes on top of a rockstar.” Pete closed his eyes and let out a low laugh, reminiscent of the night before.
They didn’t talk about it, and David could only assume Pete didn’t remember therefore he wouldn’t let himself remember. Or at least, would make it seem like he didn’t remember to Pete. He still had Pete’s taste on his lips, even after getting rid of alcohol/morning breath, and Pete’s laugh still rang in his ears and he really wanted to hear it again.
No, none of that really happened. Or, it wouldn’t have if alcohol hadn’t been a factor. Plus, weren’t they both supposed to be straight? Well, David knew he had a little bit of a...bent side, but Pete? No way.
Sometime after they’d parted ways (David really didn’t want to look at the clock and know a. how long he’d slept or b. what he should be doing instead of resting off his hangover) he got a text from Pete, with simply the word ‘Argh.’ Was that really what had been so funny? He tried to remember, and it had to have been, what else would that mean? He couldn’t believe his drunken self had reverted back to that lame ass joke, but apparently Pete had thought it was funny? He sent back a text, been watching pirate movies lately? :)
you know it. can’t believe i thought that was funny. you’re such a dork.
David smiled. He could almost sense the laughter in Pete’s text.
you’re the one that wouldn’t stop laughing. you must be just as big of a dork.
never said i wasn’t. busy tonight?
No, his pulse didn’t race when he read the second sentence. That could mean anything, and a drunken kiss meant nothing.
nope. He felt like he should’ve said more, but no other words came to mind.
cool, come to a party with me. will be more fun than the one last night, promise.
Before he could type a reply, his phone was ringing. Pete, of course. After he confirmed that sure, he’d love to go, he took down the address and ran to get ready; this party was a lot sooner than he’d thought (wow, how did it get that late?)
Pete’s arms stayed around him longer than was probably normal when they found each other and Pete hugged him. Not that he’d complain, and no one around seemed to notice or care. One thing David noticed, though, was that this wasn’t the huge, out of this world crazy party he’d expected. Instead, it was small, seeming to consist mainly of guys he’d recognized as being off Pete’s label or in his band. A lot more chill than he was expecting, but he probably needed that.
Pete managed to pull him into a secluded area, and everyone seemed to get the hint to leave them alone (Pete was very good at sending a message without actually saying anything).
They made small talk for a while before Pete got to a point. He had scooted closer to David on the couch, and David found his arm around Pete’s shoulders without thinking about it.
“So, tell me I’m crazy,” Pete started out, and David was momentarily confused but decided to play along.
“Okay, you’re crazy. Why?”
“Because I swear we barely know each other, but I feel something.” David could see the look in his eyes, they’d gotten guarded and Pete looked ready to bolt at any second. “And,” his voice got lower and David leaned in closer to hear, “and I’m crazy for getting you drunk last night just so I could kiss you. That was the plan for tonight too, but I’m too comfortable with you right now to try and trick you like that. Again.” Pete looked up from where his eyes seemed to be locked on the floor and they meet David’s. “Should I run now?”
David got a wicked smirk on his face as he shook his head. “No. You should kiss me again.”
Author: tinkertoo // Zach
Pairing: David Cook/Pete Wentz
Rating: pg-13 for language and alcohol
Word Count: 2,188
Summary: Pete and David first meet at a release party and manage to keep in touch, but only via text messages and the occasional phone call. When they meet up in person again, there's something more between them.
Warnings: mild amount of cursing. I seem to like refering to Pete as 'Pete Fucking Wentz' a lot
A/N: For thethingiswhat for winning my auction at help_haiti. She requested David Cook/Pete Wentz with the prompt "They meet at some event, strike up a friendship but since they both move around a lot it's hard to keep up more than just a quick call, text, tweet, etc. Then they meet up again at a different event and, you know, there's something there" because of this picture. Kat, you said take the prompt and run with it, that's kind of what I did. Also, this was a bitch to finish after the news about Fall Out Boy made me all pissed off at Pete, but I finally got it done =)
A/N 2: Yes, I know how ridiculous the title is. It's all I could think of.
CD release parties were supposed to be fun, filled with chatter about music, fueled by alcohol. They had become highlights of David’s celebrity life in the past year. But this one...not so much chatter and fun and maybe he felt a little out of place in the crowd and maybe there wasn’t enough alcohol to make him feel comfortable.
He was sort of laying low, staying out of everyone’s way, so it shocked the hell out of him when Pete Fucking Wentz was right there in front of him.
“I thought alone in this crowded room was just a line in a song, why are you over here all alone?” Surprisingly, his tone wasn’t mocking or mean, more playful than anything else.
“You know my songs.” That was beyond a compliment, coming from Pete anyway, music god of today. In response to the question, he shrugged. “No one interesting seemed to be interested in being social.” At the look on Pete’s face, he quickly added, “until now,” which made the other man smile.
“You seem pretty interesting too. Glad I snatched your attention before anyone else.” That made David smile more than it should have. Sure, he was used to getting compliments by now, but not from other celebrities (David Archuleta and Michael Johns excluded of course) and especially not from stars as big as Pete Fucking Wentz. He was a little overwhelmed, but not way would he show it, not when Pete seemed so cool and relaxed.
He got over being star-struck (or would like to say he was, but in reality there was no way to not feel both intimidated and in awe in the man’s presence) and they were able to carry on a normal conversation (well, as normal as a conversation can be with Pete Wentz) that spanned the entire rest of the release party. David was fascinated by Pete’s experiences and by all the crazy shit that went on inside his head, and Pete seemed to be fascinated with David’s everything, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what Pete found so interesting about the wannabe (now was) rockstar that by some brilliant luck had won a televised singing competition. Not that he was complaining about the attention at all, he actually kind of liked it.
It was well after midnight when they finally realized the time and that they both had obligations the following morning and they should probably get some sleep so neither would be zombies while being interviewed. Pete was the one to suggest that they swap numbers and keep in touch, and David was more than a little happy about that. After all, how many people could say they kept in touch with Pete Fucking Wentz? Plus he was an awesome guy that David definitely would love to hang out with again.
Dave! what’s up man?
Okay, he gets tons of messages in any one day, most of them don’t surprise him anymore. But he does lighten up a little bit, with a ridiculous smile on his face, when 1 new message from: Pete Wentz shows up on his phone. Honestly, he thought Pete was just being nice in giving him his number, but maybe he had wanted to keep in touch. God, he was overanalyzing this too much, that needed to stop and he needed to just read and answer the message.
trying this writing thing. this shit’s harder than it seems, ya know? what’s going on in the life of pete wentz?
No, he wasn’t sitting in wait for another message, that’d be ridiculous. He’d picked his guitar back up, was playing some random chords, trying to make something sound good, absentmindedly glancing over at his phone every couple of seconds. He didn’t jump that much when it buzzed on the table beside him again.
failing at this writing thing. needed a distraction. you busy or just wasting time?
just wasting time. trying but failing to get something done. how’ve you been?
The texts continued like that for pretty much the entire day. Surprisingly, Pete was almost as interesting in text as he was in person, and he was less intimidating. He probably wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but David had somehow lost track of everything else he was supposed to be doing that day, making the highlight of his day his text conversation with Pete.
After that day, they still kept in touch via texts, but the conversations were much shorter and never full day occurrences again. That day had to have been one of the rare times that Pete wasn’t busy (he was Pete Fucking Wentz after all, he was usually a busy guy). David still hadn’t figured out why he’d wanted to spend his off day texting an American Idol winner instead of doing something more productive or fun, but again David would never complain about the attention.
There were occasional calls too. Always from Pete, because David somehow never felt right being the one to call him (maybe it was because he never knew when Pete wouldn’t be busy or maybe he just didn’t want to seem too much like a fan instead of a friend or acquaintance or whatever he was to Pete).
Though there were quite a few texts and some calls scattered here and there, they hadn’t seen each other since the release party. It wasn’t like they didn’t want to meet face to face again (or at least David did), but that their schedules were so hectic it wasn’t allowed. David was writing again and Pete was doing god knows what, and they were never in the same place at the same time. David totally wasn’t following his tweets on his phone to figure out where he was, really, he just happened to know that the schedules didn’t permit another meeting.
Until they did. It was at some other big event David had been forced into attending by the label (“There will be a lot of big names there, it’ll look good for you to start going to these things.”) He had no clue what “big names” were on the guest list, but it seemed to be another of those boring parties with no alcohol and no real entertainment.
He was doing his usual routine for this kind of event: walk around, look like he belonged, mingle with the few celebrities who looked like they didn’t have their heads up their asses. It was when he pulled himself away from the snotty crowd to get a moment alone that he felt arms wrap around his waist. He tensed up until he heard the voice; somehow it instantly made him relax.
“You’re a hard guy to catch, you know that?” There was a laugh at the end and David turned in Pete’s arms.
“Me?” He let out a laugh of his own. “You’ve been all over the world in a few months, and I’m the hard one to find.”
Pete smirked and finally released him. “You should call more, we could’ve meet up sooner.”
“You should have more free time, I’m always available.” He ended the sentence before the words ’for you,’ could be tacked onto the end of it.
“Good to know. Let’s get out of theis place then, I could really use a drink, and it looks like you could too.”
Apparently, ‘get out of here’ meant go back to Pete’s hotel and raid the mini-bar, which had a shockingly nice selection, which meant a lot of beer that was gone in almost no time. David found himself sprawled out on a nice hotel bed with Pete collapsed on top of him in laughter. He wished he could remember what was so funny, but the alcohol made his brain fuzzy, he barely remembered how he ended up there in the first place. All he knew was that Pete’s weight felt really nice on top of him and he really liked his laugh.
“We have to do this more. I like you drunk.” Even Pete’s slur was cute. David decided he needed to get him drunk more often. Or just be around him more often, though drunken Pete Wentz was probably even more fun when David wasn’t just as far gone and could respond with more than a nod.
And then something happened that David registered with every nerve in his body but would later force himself to try to forget. Pete’s lips were on his, soft and warm and tasting of all different brands of alcohol and something else that was just Pete. It was sloppy, and fueled by drunken minds, and went no further than to end with Pete passing out of top of him some point later in the night.
The next morning, barring the hangover, David felt pretty good and he couldn’t (correction, wouldn’t let himself) remember why. It probably had something to do with the nice warm body curled up against him. Pete’s eyes opened seconds after David’s, and all he could do was smile and pretend to have no memory of the night before as Pete asked what happened.
“Too much alcohol. Makes you pass out in your clothes on top of a rockstar.” Pete closed his eyes and let out a low laugh, reminiscent of the night before.
They didn’t talk about it, and David could only assume Pete didn’t remember therefore he wouldn’t let himself remember. Or at least, would make it seem like he didn’t remember to Pete. He still had Pete’s taste on his lips, even after getting rid of alcohol/morning breath, and Pete’s laugh still rang in his ears and he really wanted to hear it again.
No, none of that really happened. Or, it wouldn’t have if alcohol hadn’t been a factor. Plus, weren’t they both supposed to be straight? Well, David knew he had a little bit of a...bent side, but Pete? No way.
Sometime after they’d parted ways (David really didn’t want to look at the clock and know a. how long he’d slept or b. what he should be doing instead of resting off his hangover) he got a text from Pete, with simply the word ‘Argh.’ Was that really what had been so funny? He tried to remember, and it had to have been, what else would that mean? He couldn’t believe his drunken self had reverted back to that lame ass joke, but apparently Pete had thought it was funny? He sent back a text, been watching pirate movies lately? :)
you know it. can’t believe i thought that was funny. you’re such a dork.
David smiled. He could almost sense the laughter in Pete’s text.
you’re the one that wouldn’t stop laughing. you must be just as big of a dork.
never said i wasn’t. busy tonight?
No, his pulse didn’t race when he read the second sentence. That could mean anything, and a drunken kiss meant nothing.
nope. He felt like he should’ve said more, but no other words came to mind.
cool, come to a party with me. will be more fun than the one last night, promise.
Before he could type a reply, his phone was ringing. Pete, of course. After he confirmed that sure, he’d love to go, he took down the address and ran to get ready; this party was a lot sooner than he’d thought (wow, how did it get that late?)
Pete’s arms stayed around him longer than was probably normal when they found each other and Pete hugged him. Not that he’d complain, and no one around seemed to notice or care. One thing David noticed, though, was that this wasn’t the huge, out of this world crazy party he’d expected. Instead, it was small, seeming to consist mainly of guys he’d recognized as being off Pete’s label or in his band. A lot more chill than he was expecting, but he probably needed that.
Pete managed to pull him into a secluded area, and everyone seemed to get the hint to leave them alone (Pete was very good at sending a message without actually saying anything).
They made small talk for a while before Pete got to a point. He had scooted closer to David on the couch, and David found his arm around Pete’s shoulders without thinking about it.
“So, tell me I’m crazy,” Pete started out, and David was momentarily confused but decided to play along.
“Okay, you’re crazy. Why?”
“Because I swear we barely know each other, but I feel something.” David could see the look in his eyes, they’d gotten guarded and Pete looked ready to bolt at any second. “And,” his voice got lower and David leaned in closer to hear, “and I’m crazy for getting you drunk last night just so I could kiss you. That was the plan for tonight too, but I’m too comfortable with you right now to try and trick you like that. Again.” Pete looked up from where his eyes seemed to be locked on the floor and they meet David’s. “Should I run now?”
David got a wicked smirk on his face as he shook his head. “No. You should kiss me again.”