Fic: Wrong Maps: Pendejo, Pete/Patrick, PG-13
Title: Pendejo
Author: tobi_wankenobi
Pairing: Pete/Patric, Andy/OFC
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Summary: The boys spend a little time in the Lone Star State. Six Flags and Coyote Ugly. Joe and Andy tag along from Mississippi.
Author's Notes: Hola. For the Wrong Maps challenge. I am not from San Antonio, but I have visited several times and I did do a LOT of research. Also, this was tight because I was out of internet for a while and had to run back to check out all the stories and get mine done. I hope you enjoy, but if you don't feel free to send me flaming bags of shit! -thumbs up-
Disclaimer: I'm completely unaffiliated with Fall Out Boy and The Museo Almeda, Coyote Ugly, The Naked Iguana and Six Flags. No harm to any Latino, living or dead, was intended. :\
“But we’ve already been to San Antonio,” Joe says from the backseat, reaching blindly for Andy’s seatbelt and unbuckling it with a quick sneaky hand.
“Correction,” Pete says, raising one hand from the steering wheel to point dramatically at the ceiling as Andy slaps Joe’s hand, hard, (“Stop doing that, ass!”) and Patrick turns in the passenger seat to nose into the quarrel. “We’ve played in San Antonio. There is totally shit here besides the basketball stadium and the green room.”
“Mexicans,” Joe says, rubbing at the back of his left hand and looking ruefully at Andy for a moment, then brightening. “Mexican food.”
“The Alamo,” Patrick reads, squinting down at the welcome center brochure. “The boardwalk, the Museo Almeda. That shouldn’t be hard to find. It’s big and pink, says this. Uh… Six Flags Fiesta, Sea World, Splashtown-,” Pete bounces in the passenger seat and interrupts him.
“We’re going there,” he says, grins at Patrick and receives a raised eyebrow in return.
“I just listed off like… six places, Pete.”
“Cool, yeah,” Pete grins even wider.
Patrick turns the radio up. He still hears the sharp popping sound of Joe being corrected in the backseat again. He sighs.
“Take this exit.”
***
The Museo Almeda ends up matching Pete’s close fitting shirt exactly. He makes Patrick take a picture of this, stands in front of the large, pink and glass building with his thumb up and his smile too big. They never actually make it inside, but Pete’s happy with the photo and Patrick is happy to find a hotel.
They rent two rooms at the Holiday Inn River Walk and then corral in Pete and Patrick’s to discuss their plans. Pete desperately wants to go to Six Flags and Joe says he sort of seconds this, but he also wants to stroll down the river walk so that they can have dinner at The Naked Iguana. He doesn’t even deny that it’s only the name of the place that makes him want to go. Andy is unsure, but he makes Patrick look up the menu on the internet and once he’s verified that there is indeed something there vegan-friendly, supports Joe’s decision. They chatter on for a while about things to do and finally, it’s Patrick who lays it all down.
“All right. It’s only like, what… Pete, what time is it?”
“11:32 am,” Pete says.
“It’s only 11:32 in the morning. So, let’s do Six Flags and then go to that place for dinner. And tomorrow, on the way out we should stop by the Alamo.”
“I think you’re too short for the rides, bro.” Joe ducks a flying remote control and grins from under his bangs at Patrick’s huff.
“Six Flags, Naked Iguana, hotel, bed, sex-“
“Pete!”
“-Wake up, Alamo, leave. Right?” Pete looks around at his gathered friends, eyebrows raised in expectation.
Andy points to Joe. “I’m not doing him.”
“Dipshit.”
“Good!” Pete claps his hands once and bounces off the bed. “You two get out of our room. We’ll meet down in the lobby in like… thirty.” He shoos the two of them through the adjoining door and closes it, then turns and gives Patrick his sauciest look.
It’s been a bit crowded since Joe and Andy had nudged in on their little road trip. Patrick barely has time to defend himself.
***
They actually meet in the lobby in forty-five, Joe and Andy waiting fifteen minutes to be joined by a smiling Pete and a rosy looking Patrick. Everyone has changed into their theme park wardrobe, shorts and t-shirts and Patrick’s hat declares proudly that he is a master of the Jedi arts.
“Uh huh,” Joe says, looking from Pete to Patrick and Andy shakes his head.
“Shut up, your eyes are redder than that museum,” Pete grins and puts an arm around Patrick’s waist and Patrick is apparently pleased enough with him to lean in a little bit, even down here in the lobby.
“That museum was pink, you douche-bag,” Joe says, slow and amused.
“Still.”
Patrick drives them to the theme park and they banter during the long wait, sign a few autographs. Then a few more. Then a few more.
By the time they’ve gotten inside, they have a small crowd trailing behind them.
“We need to split up,” Pete says. “We’re too conspicuous together.”
“They already see us, though,” Andy points out, not nodding over his shoulder at the crowd of giggling girls that has taken to shadowing them.
They try to lose them on the Poltergeist, and even though it doesn’t really work, it’s easy for Patrick to forget them as the car races along the track making his stomach flip and Pete whoops beside him like a man finding Jesus on television. The g-force is killer and Patrick shares a grin with Pete whose smile is equally wide and whose longish black hair looks sort of perfect blown by the wind.
Six Flags Fiesta Texas turns out to be a success for them. Patrick is tall enough for all of the rides, and they go on more than they will be able to remember the names of later. When Pete and Patrick come down off of Scream, Joe informs them that they’d heard Patrick doing just that all the way from the ground.
By nightfall their muscles are tired and their cheeks and arms are pink from the sun. Pete says that if the Naked Iguana has a problem with the way they are dressed, it can go fuck itself because at least they bothered to put clothes on.
The river walk ends up being a pretty perfect top off for the evening. Patrick likes the way the walk is lit, likes the attractive store fronts and the scent of good food in the air. It is camp and touristy and they duck into any number of little shops on their way to dinner. They buy t-shirts and tex-mex tourist toys, Pete buys a shot glass shaped like a penis and they all sort of forget about The Naked Iguana when they stumble across Coyote Ugly during their travels.
“Let’s go in there.” Pete looks intensely at the place, and then at Patrick, obviously checking him out and Patrick shakes his head, all of a sudden, raises his eyebrows at Pete. “Aw c’mon, Patrick.”
“No way! I don’t even like that movie. I am not.”
"No, but you need to." Pete gives Patrick his best big pleading eyes and Joe and Andy watch like spectators at a tennis match.
"No."
"Pussy."
At three-thirty in the morning, Patrick finally gets off his stool to dance a little bit. He still refuses to get up onto the bar like Pete wants him too, but he sways his hips a little and moves his hands some in time to the music and Pete wants to tell him that he looks a little like a special education student and then kiss him right in front of all the people watching him. Joe is drunk and Andy is talking to a Latina girl with long black hair.
"I'm in Fall Out Boy," Pete hears and though he doesn't break his eyes away from Patrick's adorable dance, he does grin widely. "Yeah, I'm the drummer." Pete does look over this time, in time to see Andy miming striking invisible drums for the girl. Pete shakes his head, then looks back toward Patrick who has taken to watching the overhead neons instead of dancing and Pete is out of his chair like a steamroller, pushing Patrick out onto the packed dance floor.
Despite the crush of bodies, it's only the second time they've had a relatively private moment since Mississippi. Dark and strobe lit, everyone is an anonymous, warm body and Patrick looks like pale, stop-go animation and actually moves almost fluidly under Pete's guiding hands.
Even though The Naked Iguana Lounge never actually makes it into the evening agenda, the rest of Pete's plans for the night are fulfilled.
***
The Alamo doesn't look as impressive in the mid morning light as Pete had thought it would. It is a brick building, and maybe the shape is a little inventive, but it's pretty plain otherwise. He had been expecting something bigger.
No. That's not it. The place is pretty big, actually, and Pete furrows his brow and looks at it and tries to figure out what's wrong with it.
"Don't repeat this," Patrick says, out of the corner of his mouth beside him, leaning in close. "Cause I know there was a big war here, and a lot of people died and stuff... But this isn't nearly as moving as you'd think it would be."
Pete thinks about that, looks back toward the brick building and searches for the ache in his chest that a place like this should inspire. "What's wrong with us," he whispers to Patrick, raising his eyebrows a bit and looking around as if to make sure they're not being overheard.
"I don't know," Patrick whispers back. "Maybe we should go inside."
Things are prettier inside, but all so neat and tidy and there's a little gift shop and Pete still fails to feel emotionally moved by the place. It's sort of disappointing. He wants to go back to the river walk, or maybe actually go inside The Museo Almeda to make up for it. He thinks all the people in shorts and camera straps should leave. Maybe then he will be able to imagine a great battle here. Maybe he should have watched the movie. He's not sure.
"Let's go back to the hotel and get the guys."
Joe is sleeping off his hangover and Andy is still due to meet up with them at the Holiday Inn. The second bed in Joe's hotel room had gone unused that night, and the 'passenger side' of the little Latina's had gotten a warm up.
"So how was San Antonio," Patrick wants to know, behind the wheel again and he looks at Pete from under the brim of his hat, expression open and smiling. Pete supposes they are sort of an obvious Good Sex Couple. He smiles back and rolls the window down, putting his hand out so that the morning air can whip at the limb. He thinks of the river walk and Patrick moving against him like water under the strobe lights, Andy and Joe and his friends are fucking top of the line.
"Couldn't have been better," he says, cheerfully, leaning over and kissing the smooth skin under Patrick's ear until Patrick laughs and tucks his shoulder, batting Pete away.
"I'm driving!"
"I love you."
Patrick softens and looks at him again.
"Love you too."
Andy meets them at the glass door of the lobby. His hair is a little wild and there is a dark purple mark over the pulse point on his neck.
"Damn," Pete says, inspecting the mark.
"Mouth like a hoover," Andy says, tipping his head to the side a bit so Pete and Patrick can see better. He looks proud of it.
Pete points to Patrick.
Patrick doesn't even argue with him this time. "Better than a hoover," he corrects.
"Right." Pete looks pleased.
Andy shakes his head at them. "You guys are a mutation. Did anyone wake Joe up, yet?"
They fetch their guitarist and hit the rental again, Andy behind the wheel, this time, Joe slumped in the passenger seat like a man dying. Pete and Patrick crowd into the backseat and they get on their way. Soon it's highway and open land and San Antonio is a memory, a hickey, and one photo on Patrick's digital camera.
Author: tobi_wankenobi
Pairing: Pete/Patric, Andy/OFC
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Summary: The boys spend a little time in the Lone Star State. Six Flags and Coyote Ugly. Joe and Andy tag along from Mississippi.
Author's Notes: Hola. For the Wrong Maps challenge. I am not from San Antonio, but I have visited several times and I did do a LOT of research. Also, this was tight because I was out of internet for a while and had to run back to check out all the stories and get mine done. I hope you enjoy, but if you don't feel free to send me flaming bags of shit! -thumbs up-
Disclaimer: I'm completely unaffiliated with Fall Out Boy and The Museo Almeda, Coyote Ugly, The Naked Iguana and Six Flags. No harm to any Latino, living or dead, was intended. :\
“But we’ve already been to San Antonio,” Joe says from the backseat, reaching blindly for Andy’s seatbelt and unbuckling it with a quick sneaky hand.
“Correction,” Pete says, raising one hand from the steering wheel to point dramatically at the ceiling as Andy slaps Joe’s hand, hard, (“Stop doing that, ass!”) and Patrick turns in the passenger seat to nose into the quarrel. “We’ve played in San Antonio. There is totally shit here besides the basketball stadium and the green room.”
“Mexicans,” Joe says, rubbing at the back of his left hand and looking ruefully at Andy for a moment, then brightening. “Mexican food.”
“The Alamo,” Patrick reads, squinting down at the welcome center brochure. “The boardwalk, the Museo Almeda. That shouldn’t be hard to find. It’s big and pink, says this. Uh… Six Flags Fiesta, Sea World, Splashtown-,” Pete bounces in the passenger seat and interrupts him.
“We’re going there,” he says, grins at Patrick and receives a raised eyebrow in return.
“I just listed off like… six places, Pete.”
“Cool, yeah,” Pete grins even wider.
Patrick turns the radio up. He still hears the sharp popping sound of Joe being corrected in the backseat again. He sighs.
“Take this exit.”
***
The Museo Almeda ends up matching Pete’s close fitting shirt exactly. He makes Patrick take a picture of this, stands in front of the large, pink and glass building with his thumb up and his smile too big. They never actually make it inside, but Pete’s happy with the photo and Patrick is happy to find a hotel.
They rent two rooms at the Holiday Inn River Walk and then corral in Pete and Patrick’s to discuss their plans. Pete desperately wants to go to Six Flags and Joe says he sort of seconds this, but he also wants to stroll down the river walk so that they can have dinner at The Naked Iguana. He doesn’t even deny that it’s only the name of the place that makes him want to go. Andy is unsure, but he makes Patrick look up the menu on the internet and once he’s verified that there is indeed something there vegan-friendly, supports Joe’s decision. They chatter on for a while about things to do and finally, it’s Patrick who lays it all down.
“All right. It’s only like, what… Pete, what time is it?”
“11:32 am,” Pete says.
“It’s only 11:32 in the morning. So, let’s do Six Flags and then go to that place for dinner. And tomorrow, on the way out we should stop by the Alamo.”
“I think you’re too short for the rides, bro.” Joe ducks a flying remote control and grins from under his bangs at Patrick’s huff.
“Six Flags, Naked Iguana, hotel, bed, sex-“
“Pete!”
“-Wake up, Alamo, leave. Right?” Pete looks around at his gathered friends, eyebrows raised in expectation.
Andy points to Joe. “I’m not doing him.”
“Dipshit.”
“Good!” Pete claps his hands once and bounces off the bed. “You two get out of our room. We’ll meet down in the lobby in like… thirty.” He shoos the two of them through the adjoining door and closes it, then turns and gives Patrick his sauciest look.
It’s been a bit crowded since Joe and Andy had nudged in on their little road trip. Patrick barely has time to defend himself.
***
They actually meet in the lobby in forty-five, Joe and Andy waiting fifteen minutes to be joined by a smiling Pete and a rosy looking Patrick. Everyone has changed into their theme park wardrobe, shorts and t-shirts and Patrick’s hat declares proudly that he is a master of the Jedi arts.
“Uh huh,” Joe says, looking from Pete to Patrick and Andy shakes his head.
“Shut up, your eyes are redder than that museum,” Pete grins and puts an arm around Patrick’s waist and Patrick is apparently pleased enough with him to lean in a little bit, even down here in the lobby.
“That museum was pink, you douche-bag,” Joe says, slow and amused.
“Still.”
Patrick drives them to the theme park and they banter during the long wait, sign a few autographs. Then a few more. Then a few more.
By the time they’ve gotten inside, they have a small crowd trailing behind them.
“We need to split up,” Pete says. “We’re too conspicuous together.”
“They already see us, though,” Andy points out, not nodding over his shoulder at the crowd of giggling girls that has taken to shadowing them.
They try to lose them on the Poltergeist, and even though it doesn’t really work, it’s easy for Patrick to forget them as the car races along the track making his stomach flip and Pete whoops beside him like a man finding Jesus on television. The g-force is killer and Patrick shares a grin with Pete whose smile is equally wide and whose longish black hair looks sort of perfect blown by the wind.
Six Flags Fiesta Texas turns out to be a success for them. Patrick is tall enough for all of the rides, and they go on more than they will be able to remember the names of later. When Pete and Patrick come down off of Scream, Joe informs them that they’d heard Patrick doing just that all the way from the ground.
By nightfall their muscles are tired and their cheeks and arms are pink from the sun. Pete says that if the Naked Iguana has a problem with the way they are dressed, it can go fuck itself because at least they bothered to put clothes on.
The river walk ends up being a pretty perfect top off for the evening. Patrick likes the way the walk is lit, likes the attractive store fronts and the scent of good food in the air. It is camp and touristy and they duck into any number of little shops on their way to dinner. They buy t-shirts and tex-mex tourist toys, Pete buys a shot glass shaped like a penis and they all sort of forget about The Naked Iguana when they stumble across Coyote Ugly during their travels.
“Let’s go in there.” Pete looks intensely at the place, and then at Patrick, obviously checking him out and Patrick shakes his head, all of a sudden, raises his eyebrows at Pete. “Aw c’mon, Patrick.”
“No way! I don’t even like that movie. I am not.”
"No, but you need to." Pete gives Patrick his best big pleading eyes and Joe and Andy watch like spectators at a tennis match.
"No."
"Pussy."
At three-thirty in the morning, Patrick finally gets off his stool to dance a little bit. He still refuses to get up onto the bar like Pete wants him too, but he sways his hips a little and moves his hands some in time to the music and Pete wants to tell him that he looks a little like a special education student and then kiss him right in front of all the people watching him. Joe is drunk and Andy is talking to a Latina girl with long black hair.
"I'm in Fall Out Boy," Pete hears and though he doesn't break his eyes away from Patrick's adorable dance, he does grin widely. "Yeah, I'm the drummer." Pete does look over this time, in time to see Andy miming striking invisible drums for the girl. Pete shakes his head, then looks back toward Patrick who has taken to watching the overhead neons instead of dancing and Pete is out of his chair like a steamroller, pushing Patrick out onto the packed dance floor.
Despite the crush of bodies, it's only the second time they've had a relatively private moment since Mississippi. Dark and strobe lit, everyone is an anonymous, warm body and Patrick looks like pale, stop-go animation and actually moves almost fluidly under Pete's guiding hands.
Even though The Naked Iguana Lounge never actually makes it into the evening agenda, the rest of Pete's plans for the night are fulfilled.
***
The Alamo doesn't look as impressive in the mid morning light as Pete had thought it would. It is a brick building, and maybe the shape is a little inventive, but it's pretty plain otherwise. He had been expecting something bigger.
No. That's not it. The place is pretty big, actually, and Pete furrows his brow and looks at it and tries to figure out what's wrong with it.
"Don't repeat this," Patrick says, out of the corner of his mouth beside him, leaning in close. "Cause I know there was a big war here, and a lot of people died and stuff... But this isn't nearly as moving as you'd think it would be."
Pete thinks about that, looks back toward the brick building and searches for the ache in his chest that a place like this should inspire. "What's wrong with us," he whispers to Patrick, raising his eyebrows a bit and looking around as if to make sure they're not being overheard.
"I don't know," Patrick whispers back. "Maybe we should go inside."
Things are prettier inside, but all so neat and tidy and there's a little gift shop and Pete still fails to feel emotionally moved by the place. It's sort of disappointing. He wants to go back to the river walk, or maybe actually go inside The Museo Almeda to make up for it. He thinks all the people in shorts and camera straps should leave. Maybe then he will be able to imagine a great battle here. Maybe he should have watched the movie. He's not sure.
"Let's go back to the hotel and get the guys."
Joe is sleeping off his hangover and Andy is still due to meet up with them at the Holiday Inn. The second bed in Joe's hotel room had gone unused that night, and the 'passenger side' of the little Latina's had gotten a warm up.
"So how was San Antonio," Patrick wants to know, behind the wheel again and he looks at Pete from under the brim of his hat, expression open and smiling. Pete supposes they are sort of an obvious Good Sex Couple. He smiles back and rolls the window down, putting his hand out so that the morning air can whip at the limb. He thinks of the river walk and Patrick moving against him like water under the strobe lights, Andy and Joe and his friends are fucking top of the line.
"Couldn't have been better," he says, cheerfully, leaning over and kissing the smooth skin under Patrick's ear until Patrick laughs and tucks his shoulder, batting Pete away.
"I'm driving!"
"I love you."
Patrick softens and looks at him again.
"Love you too."
Andy meets them at the glass door of the lobby. His hair is a little wild and there is a dark purple mark over the pulse point on his neck.
"Damn," Pete says, inspecting the mark.
"Mouth like a hoover," Andy says, tipping his head to the side a bit so Pete and Patrick can see better. He looks proud of it.
Pete points to Patrick.
Patrick doesn't even argue with him this time. "Better than a hoover," he corrects.
"Right." Pete looks pleased.
Andy shakes his head at them. "You guys are a mutation. Did anyone wake Joe up, yet?"
They fetch their guitarist and hit the rental again, Andy behind the wheel, this time, Joe slumped in the passenger seat like a man dying. Pete and Patrick crowd into the backseat and they get on their way. Soon it's highway and open land and San Antonio is a memory, a hickey, and one photo on Patrick's digital camera.