Fall Out Boy/Panic! At the Disco: My Own Way (Fate Remix) (Patrick/Pete, Brendon/Ryan | T | 931w)
[ Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz, Brendon Urie/Ryan Ross | T | 931w | 2007-10-21 | Mirror ]
Mobster AU. In which four boys fumble their way to success.
Author’s Notes: Written for remixthedrabble; remix of This Is a Love Song In My Own Way by theswearingkind.
My Own Way (Four Twists of Fate Remix)
So, there are these four boys, right?
Now… these boys aren’t exactly what you’d call on the fast track to success. They’re so far away that they can’t even catch the slightest whiff. Point in fact, not a single one of them is even sure where the fucking track is.
That sound you hear? That’s destiny, laughing her ass off, and flipping logic the finger.
*
This first boy, he spends most of his childhood being unfavorably compared to the Pillsbury dough boy and the Lucky Charms elf, which pisses him off, not because the other kids insult him, but because he’s convinced there’s no way he looks like both those things.
He spends a lot of time trying to convince people that he isn’t cute.
*
The second wears corrective mouthgear for years at night to help straighten out the horse teeth that some evil fairy godmother cursed him with, not to mention the fucking stutter; Christ, you’d think someone up there would have given this kid a break.
He spends most of his time trying to convince people that he is cute.
*
The third basically vibrates through his formative years, and bounces out the other end mostly unscathed, but a little at a loss for where all that momentum is going to take him.
As long as it’s somewhere off-center from normal, though, he’ll be happy, because normal is boring and the only Hell that he believes in is a place of never-ending boredom.
*
The fourth, well, the fourth, he’s probably the best of them all-best, because he has an incomparable drive to do something with his life, to get out, to go somewhere better. But he’s also the worst off because, well… that drive had to come from somewhere.
Either way, he’s getting out: that part isn’t optional.
*
Right. Take four boys of dubious success potential, add a dash of luck and a big helping musical talent, and then factor in another deity whose name starts with “F,” ends with “ate,” who has a really big soft spot in her all-powerful heart for tiny gay boys and what do you get?
Something that’s a little like magic.
*
“Hi my name is PATRICK” his nametag says, and Pete counts them, seven innocuous and glorious little letters that turn his head and heart inside out and lay them at this kid’s feet.
“Me? A singer?” He turns a shade of purple not found in nature and sinks into his hat. “I-no, man. I wish.”
Pete smiles wide and forgets to be embarrassed about his teeth.
“Patrick, Patrick, Patrick,” he says, but what he means is I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever wished for.
*
“Bren,” Ryan says severely, squirming away.
“Okay, okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Brendon lets his hands settle; they fit themselves with a magnetic draw into hollows of Ryan’s hips.
“You…” Ryan leans back a breath. “You don’t have to.”
Brendon could swallow the sun whole and it wouldn’t feel this good. “Yeah?” He whispers, lips brushing Ryan’s earlobe.
And Ryan nods right into him, and they don’t talk any more about stopping.
*
Ryan becomes powerful, more powerful than he ever imagined was possible. And, yeah, okay, some of this power comes from the shadier-than-thou dealings, but, really? Most of it comes from Brendon at his side, unbelievably there. Always just there.
Brendon also likes to call him the gayest Godfather of them all. Ryan lets it slide, mostly because it’s true.
*
Pete is in Vegas to win the keys to the kingdom (read: the button to Patrick’s jeans) and the heart of his prince (read: exactly what it says). This fucking mint-condition Ziggy Stardust record, man, if he can win the money to buy it-it’ll be the best happy-non-statutory birthday present ever.
And everything is going according to plan-which, score, because he was fully prepared to lose his life savings of $142.56-until he gets kidnapped, that is.
Yes, kidnapped. By a guy in a sparkly shirt.
Destiny and Fate, man. They sure know how to have a good time.
*
Pete rubs the back of his neck, looking back and forth from shiny-shirt-bouncy one to the egregiously-pretty fedora-wearing one.
“Seriously? You’ve heard my music and you liked it?”
Fedora nods. “Seriously. Except I didn’t know that Brendon was going to kidnap you-” He shoots a look at Brendon, who bounces apologetically, “But I really, um. I really think it sucks that you haven’t been signed. That’s all.”
This turn of events, Pete quickly realizes, is even better than the I-love-you-please-have-legal-sex-with-me gift he’s getting Patrick. And that’s saying something.
*
Pete Wentz and Patrick Stump have the most earth-shattering legal sex known to man, Bowie playing the whole time (the .mp3, not the record-they make be sex-craved, but they’re not stupid). Neither of them has to say the word love, but that doesn’t stop them. Especially Pete, every single time Patrick touches him.
Ryan revolutionizes make-up in the Mafia (mostly by introducing it) and channels some of his emo-angst over his profession into songwriting. Brendon hums tunes to the lyrics when he thinks Ryan can’t hear; Ryan does, and starts letting Brendon use his eyeliner. (For those not versed in gay mob boss tradition, that’s the equivalent of a marriage proposal. Brendon accepts.)
*
Fall Out Boy’s first CD is financed by notorious Vegas mobster Ryan Ross.
*
That sound you hear? That’s Destiny and Fate, making out.
Mobster AU. In which four boys fumble their way to success.
Author’s Notes: Written for remixthedrabble; remix of This Is a Love Song In My Own Way by theswearingkind.
My Own Way (Four Twists of Fate Remix)
So, there are these four boys, right?
Now… these boys aren’t exactly what you’d call on the fast track to success. They’re so far away that they can’t even catch the slightest whiff. Point in fact, not a single one of them is even sure where the fucking track is.
That sound you hear? That’s destiny, laughing her ass off, and flipping logic the finger.
*
This first boy, he spends most of his childhood being unfavorably compared to the Pillsbury dough boy and the Lucky Charms elf, which pisses him off, not because the other kids insult him, but because he’s convinced there’s no way he looks like both those things.
He spends a lot of time trying to convince people that he isn’t cute.
*
The second wears corrective mouthgear for years at night to help straighten out the horse teeth that some evil fairy godmother cursed him with, not to mention the fucking stutter; Christ, you’d think someone up there would have given this kid a break.
He spends most of his time trying to convince people that he is cute.
*
The third basically vibrates through his formative years, and bounces out the other end mostly unscathed, but a little at a loss for where all that momentum is going to take him.
As long as it’s somewhere off-center from normal, though, he’ll be happy, because normal is boring and the only Hell that he believes in is a place of never-ending boredom.
*
The fourth, well, the fourth, he’s probably the best of them all-best, because he has an incomparable drive to do something with his life, to get out, to go somewhere better. But he’s also the worst off because, well… that drive had to come from somewhere.
Either way, he’s getting out: that part isn’t optional.
*
Right. Take four boys of dubious success potential, add a dash of luck and a big helping musical talent, and then factor in another deity whose name starts with “F,” ends with “ate,” who has a really big soft spot in her all-powerful heart for tiny gay boys and what do you get?
Something that’s a little like magic.
*
“Hi my name is PATRICK” his nametag says, and Pete counts them, seven innocuous and glorious little letters that turn his head and heart inside out and lay them at this kid’s feet.
“Me? A singer?” He turns a shade of purple not found in nature and sinks into his hat. “I-no, man. I wish.”
Pete smiles wide and forgets to be embarrassed about his teeth.
“Patrick, Patrick, Patrick,” he says, but what he means is I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever wished for.
*
“Bren,” Ryan says severely, squirming away.
“Okay, okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Brendon lets his hands settle; they fit themselves with a magnetic draw into hollows of Ryan’s hips.
“You…” Ryan leans back a breath. “You don’t have to.”
Brendon could swallow the sun whole and it wouldn’t feel this good. “Yeah?” He whispers, lips brushing Ryan’s earlobe.
And Ryan nods right into him, and they don’t talk any more about stopping.
*
Ryan becomes powerful, more powerful than he ever imagined was possible. And, yeah, okay, some of this power comes from the shadier-than-thou dealings, but, really? Most of it comes from Brendon at his side, unbelievably there. Always just there.
Brendon also likes to call him the gayest Godfather of them all. Ryan lets it slide, mostly because it’s true.
*
Pete is in Vegas to win the keys to the kingdom (read: the button to Patrick’s jeans) and the heart of his prince (read: exactly what it says). This fucking mint-condition Ziggy Stardust record, man, if he can win the money to buy it-it’ll be the best happy-non-statutory birthday present ever.
And everything is going according to plan-which, score, because he was fully prepared to lose his life savings of $142.56-until he gets kidnapped, that is.
Yes, kidnapped. By a guy in a sparkly shirt.
Destiny and Fate, man. They sure know how to have a good time.
*
Pete rubs the back of his neck, looking back and forth from shiny-shirt-bouncy one to the egregiously-pretty fedora-wearing one.
“Seriously? You’ve heard my music and you liked it?”
Fedora nods. “Seriously. Except I didn’t know that Brendon was going to kidnap you-” He shoots a look at Brendon, who bounces apologetically, “But I really, um. I really think it sucks that you haven’t been signed. That’s all.”
This turn of events, Pete quickly realizes, is even better than the I-love-you-please-have-legal-sex-with-me gift he’s getting Patrick. And that’s saying something.
*
Pete Wentz and Patrick Stump have the most earth-shattering legal sex known to man, Bowie playing the whole time (the .mp3, not the record-they make be sex-craved, but they’re not stupid). Neither of them has to say the word love, but that doesn’t stop them. Especially Pete, every single time Patrick touches him.
Ryan revolutionizes make-up in the Mafia (mostly by introducing it) and channels some of his emo-angst over his profession into songwriting. Brendon hums tunes to the lyrics when he thinks Ryan can’t hear; Ryan does, and starts letting Brendon use his eyeliner. (For those not versed in gay mob boss tradition, that’s the equivalent of a marriage proposal. Brendon accepts.)
*
Fall Out Boy’s first CD is financed by notorious Vegas mobster Ryan Ross.
*
That sound you hear? That’s Destiny and Fate, making out.