Ficlet: Just a Day (for wishforhome)
Ok, so, wishforhome kind of wrote something quite sad about her OTP.
pete/brendon i have the weirdest fucking otp ever. seriously. like, okay, what? have you ever tried to find brendon/pete fic? there are maybe ten good ones. i've read them all. the rest have pete as the creepy old pervert who forces brendon to give him a blowjob in exchange for a record contract. or molests him outside a gas station. or rapes him in the back of the van. THAT IS NOT MY OTP, OKAY! for me, the pairing is totally about dorks in love. they both have these manic elements to their personality that compliment, and the stupid shit they get up together makes them ridiculously awesome (half-naked bowling what). but they both also have serious sides, and they'd just be so adorable and in love together and ugh.
Which, I can totally understand the weird OTP thing, hi meet Patrick/Spencer and Frank Iero/Brendon, so can sympathise. And because the creative juices have been flowing lately I thought I'd scribble something out. And I'm impatient, so no beta, but I've read it over.
Warning: I'm not claiming this is any good. Just a bit of fluff for the cold nights (and days).
Brendon licks his wrist, trying to get the sticky off him without actually having to move. He grunts at a sweetness of it and lets his arm fall back to his side, brushing against Pete's leg Brendon can feel the other man move a little under his hand, and lets it distract his for a moment. There's a lump of squishy stuff under his arm and he's fairly sure it's some of the jelly. Fairly sure.
"So, maybe a food fight wasn't the best idea?" Brendon snorts at Pete and tries to roll onto his side. He gets it on the third try. Then he's looking at Pete's half naked body, covered in flour and salsa. He smirks to himself, because really, it's his fault that the food fight even started. Brendon wonders briefly if the flour handprints were still on the back of Pete's jeans. He giggles a little and loses his balance, falling onto the other man's leg.
Pete's fingers are stroking the inside of his ankle, which is a strange feeling. He turns over and sits up, pulling his feet under him so Pete's hand is sticking out at a strange angle. Brendon laughs gently and leans over, pressing his nose into the curve of the older man's jaw.
"It's late; we have to meet Spencer and Haley for lunch soon." He licks at a patch of clean skin on Pete's neck, then leans back, continuing. "You need a shower. We both need a shower." Then he sees Pete's leer and laughs, smacking his chest gently. "Separately; we'll never get there otherwise." He pushes himself up, half using Pete to do so.
He showers quickly, because he's already done so once today and it's more about looking presentable rather than actually being clean. Pete's already in the bathroom when he gets out the shower, and Brendon presses a kiss to the back of his shoulder before going to get dressed. He knows Pete will be long enough getting ready that Brendon can go and make himself a cup of coffee before they have to leave.
Brendon's sitting in the living room, half way through the coffee and idly flipping through TV channels when Pete comes out. He throws himself down on the couch and tries to put his feet on the non-existent coffee table.
"I seriously don't understand why you don't have a coffee table here, instead of the stupid sideboard all the way over there." Brendon shakes his head and looks across at Pete's disgruntled expression.
"You can dictate my furniture purchases when it's your house, asshole." Pete laughs and curves himself around Brendon's side, taking the luke-warm mug from his hands. The younger man just lets it go; he's used to half fulfilled caffeine cravings by now. In any case, they are going to eat in a minute, which means he doesn't need to be half-full on liquids.
As they are going out the door, Pete catches sight of the kitchen and laughs abruptly. "I'll clean it up when we get home, ok?" Brendon just shakes his head and pushes Pete out the door. They both know he won't. But he'll pay for the cleaning service that they use for after parties. So, it works out.
It's a cold day in Vegas, even though it's barely October, and Brendon presses himself to Pete's side a little more than is necessary. The older man just grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers, before pulling them into his jacket pocket. They stay like that for the rest of the walk.
Other than that, I've written nothing else today. Procrastination, and Cab!fic gets in the way.
pete/brendon i have the weirdest fucking otp ever. seriously. like, okay, what? have you ever tried to find brendon/pete fic? there are maybe ten good ones. i've read them all. the rest have pete as the creepy old pervert who forces brendon to give him a blowjob in exchange for a record contract. or molests him outside a gas station. or rapes him in the back of the van. THAT IS NOT MY OTP, OKAY! for me, the pairing is totally about dorks in love. they both have these manic elements to their personality that compliment, and the stupid shit they get up together makes them ridiculously awesome (half-naked bowling what). but they both also have serious sides, and they'd just be so adorable and in love together and ugh.
Which, I can totally understand the weird OTP thing, hi meet Patrick/Spencer and Frank Iero/Brendon, so can sympathise. And because the creative juices have been flowing lately I thought I'd scribble something out. And I'm impatient, so no beta, but I've read it over.
Warning: I'm not claiming this is any good. Just a bit of fluff for the cold nights (and days).
Brendon licks his wrist, trying to get the sticky off him without actually having to move. He grunts at a sweetness of it and lets his arm fall back to his side, brushing against Pete's leg Brendon can feel the other man move a little under his hand, and lets it distract his for a moment. There's a lump of squishy stuff under his arm and he's fairly sure it's some of the jelly. Fairly sure.
"So, maybe a food fight wasn't the best idea?" Brendon snorts at Pete and tries to roll onto his side. He gets it on the third try. Then he's looking at Pete's half naked body, covered in flour and salsa. He smirks to himself, because really, it's his fault that the food fight even started. Brendon wonders briefly if the flour handprints were still on the back of Pete's jeans. He giggles a little and loses his balance, falling onto the other man's leg.
Pete's fingers are stroking the inside of his ankle, which is a strange feeling. He turns over and sits up, pulling his feet under him so Pete's hand is sticking out at a strange angle. Brendon laughs gently and leans over, pressing his nose into the curve of the older man's jaw.
"It's late; we have to meet Spencer and Haley for lunch soon." He licks at a patch of clean skin on Pete's neck, then leans back, continuing. "You need a shower. We both need a shower." Then he sees Pete's leer and laughs, smacking his chest gently. "Separately; we'll never get there otherwise." He pushes himself up, half using Pete to do so.
He showers quickly, because he's already done so once today and it's more about looking presentable rather than actually being clean. Pete's already in the bathroom when he gets out the shower, and Brendon presses a kiss to the back of his shoulder before going to get dressed. He knows Pete will be long enough getting ready that Brendon can go and make himself a cup of coffee before they have to leave.
Brendon's sitting in the living room, half way through the coffee and idly flipping through TV channels when Pete comes out. He throws himself down on the couch and tries to put his feet on the non-existent coffee table.
"I seriously don't understand why you don't have a coffee table here, instead of the stupid sideboard all the way over there." Brendon shakes his head and looks across at Pete's disgruntled expression.
"You can dictate my furniture purchases when it's your house, asshole." Pete laughs and curves himself around Brendon's side, taking the luke-warm mug from his hands. The younger man just lets it go; he's used to half fulfilled caffeine cravings by now. In any case, they are going to eat in a minute, which means he doesn't need to be half-full on liquids.
As they are going out the door, Pete catches sight of the kitchen and laughs abruptly. "I'll clean it up when we get home, ok?" Brendon just shakes his head and pushes Pete out the door. They both know he won't. But he'll pay for the cleaning service that they use for after parties. So, it works out.
It's a cold day in Vegas, even though it's barely October, and Brendon presses himself to Pete's side a little more than is necessary. The older man just grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers, before pulling them into his jacket pocket. They stay like that for the rest of the walk.
Other than that, I've written nothing else today. Procrastination, and Cab!fic gets in the way.