token (joe/various, r)
ficbyzee: man. Joe the default straight dude, again. :(
gigantic: ohh, Joe. he never gets any gay sex. it's hard for him.
ficbyzee: it is.
gigantic: hahaha, naturally, i feel like writing something wretched about it.
Token
by Charli J. Joe/various. R. 6,813 words. Joe has a life-changing dream.
100% untrue work of fiction, no harm intended, etc.
Joe says -- and it's plain, the way he starts out. He closes his magazine, looks around the room, and calmly announces, "So. I had a dream."
"Oh, yeah?" Pete says, perfunctorily, because nobody is really listening, but somebody has to fill the silence. Joe's done his share of filling that preoccupied silence. Generally when Andy starts talking about new ingredients he's going to try in his protein shakes and asks what they think, Joe fills in that silence. That's great, Andy. Blueberries sound awesome.
"Yeah," Joe says. He's not easily discouraged. "You guys. Look. I had this dream. There was this, like -- the tooth fairy, except she was telling me I should hook up with guys. And I thought she meant, you know, making out, so. So I tried to tell her, 'Dude. Been there, done that,' and she said, 'Joseph,' -- she called me Joseph, it was weird. 'Joseph. Sex with other young, strong males is phenomenal.' I... I don't know."
Andy looks up. He stops tapping his drum stick against his thigh. "The tooth fairy told you to have gay sex?"
Joe shrugs. Well, when he says -- if he's going to say it like that. "I guess? Pretty much."
He's considering it. They're looking at him like he's being irrational or like they can't believe it, but he is. Joe Trohman is weighing the possibility of gay sex.
Patrick looks up from his laptop, hand paused over the mousepad. He pulls one earphone off and says, "Oh. Um."
And Joe cuts in explaining, "I mean, come on. Someone came to me in a dream."
"But that's just it. It was a dream," Pete points out.
"Yeah, but," Joe says, and God. God, like, that's what he just said? He knows that. "She was glowing, dude. That's -- come on, you have to admit that that's pretty special. How many fairies have come to you? Glowing. Seriously, I'm thinking about it."
;;
He has to figure out what his best options are. When he woke up this morning, it seemed like a fairly easy thing to accomplish. He's around dudes all the time, but as he starts considering it, Joe realizes that he might be out of his element here. Or, well, he definitely is, that's kind of the whole point.
He considers his band first.
It can't be Pete, because it's Pete. Joe can't really think of any specific reason other than that. He once heard that when someone answers a question with only the word "because," it's because either he or she really doesn't know or because the answer is so complicated and hard to comprehend that taking the time to explain isn't even worth it. Maybe Douglas Adams wrote that. That sounds like the sort of thing Douglas Adams would write. Andy made Joe read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy a couple years ago, because Joe wanted to see the movie for Mos Def, and Andy has a thing about reading the books first. Anyway! The point is -- what was the point? -- oh, Pete. It can't be Pete, and that's reason enough.
Patrick says he's straight, but Joe knows Patrick well enough that if Patrick really thought it would help, he'd probably give Joe a handjob or something. Patrick's really dependable that way. Joe won't make him though, because he doesn't want to traumatize Patrick or anything, especially not in the name of friendship. Anyway, he's pretty sure Pete called first dibs on any unexpected gay adventures Patrick might have like four years ago.
(Fact: Pete was actually wearing a purple robe at four in the morning at the time, and he typed up the final draft on cotton resume paper. It began: In the event that Patrick Martin Stump(h) should, any day henceforth, bat for the other team, Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III shall be first to round all three bases and touch home plate... There's still a copy taped inside his closet.)
So that's a no for Patrick. Andy actually tells Joe at lunch that he'll do it if Joe wants, but Joe's kind of put off by someone who doesn't hesitate at all.
"Just like that?" Joe says. "No."
Andy shrugs. "Why not?"
"Because I didn't know, like -- you're gay?"
"I'm open-minded," Andy says. "Hey, you said you needed to find somebody. I figured -- I thought maybe it'd just be easier. Or something. Less scary. Since you want to do it."
Andy shrugs. Oh. That's actually kind of thoughtful. That's kind of sweet, so Joe says, "Oh. Well, that's really nice, actually. Thanks. But you don't have to, dude."
"Cool," Andy says, fixing his glasses. "Do you have somebody already? Who're you gonna get then?"
And that, Joe thinks, is still the question.
;;
Okay. So, he's not gonna do it with anyone in his own band, even though he probably could. It's just better if he doesn't, so he won't. However, that means Joe doesn't know where to take his new goal next, so he picks up the phone and calls the only person most likely to understand completely when Joe says that he's had a dream -- a vision! -- and now he's seriously considering the true value of cock.
Gabe answers after three rings.
"Joe! Hello!" he says brightly. "Is this business, pleasure, or both? Because I don't have a problem with mixing."
"It's kind of -- It's special," Joe says, and then explains himself. He explains his dream and asks Gabe how he feels about sex with dudes. Has he had sex with dudes? Correct him if he's wrong or out of bounds here, but he's pretty sure that Gabe and William have -- you know. At least a couple times. He just needs advice from someone seasoned.
"Well," Gabe tells him, sagely, "Confucius say: the superior man is satisfied and composed, because the superior man loves the cock."
Um. Okay. Joe says, "Yeah. Alright, I doubt -- "
"Hey, don't take my word for it," Gabe says. "Look it up."
"No, cool, I'll take your word for it," Joe tells him. Gabe's full of shit, but he's also got a lot of actual, useful knowledge, too, if you let him razzle dazzle you for a minute. Joe asks, "So you think this is a good idea?"
Gabe snorts. He obviously thinks it's great. He says that, actually, he's pretty sure William was visited by the same fairy a couple years back.
"No, listen. Hear me out, seriously," Gabe insists when Joe laughs. "I swear, man, he just showed up at my house one day, talking about how he wanted to try something, you know. And, dude, like. The golden rule spans a lot of religions, Joe. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you and shit. That's pretty universal. If I was in need -- if I needed help, and I asked Bill for a favor, I'd hope he'd do what he could, you know? Who am I to break the golden rule?"
Joe says, "I guess if you put it that way -- "
"You have to!" Gabe says. "That's what it is. I'm like -- I'm just trying to be a good person."
"Right."
"Anyway," Gabe continues. "Good luck, dude, is what I'm saying. Who's gonna help you out with that?"
And Joe explains that that's kind of the problem. The fairy wasn't specific, really. It was kind of a half-ass dream. He's a little afraid that means this whole thing is bogus, but Gabe swears that, no, it just means his fate's in his owns hands.
"Really," Joe says, skeptically.
"Yeah! Like I vote for Ryan," Gabe says. "He'd do it. I mean, he hates me because I said something about his makeup once, but. It wasn't even an insult, but whatever -- "
"Dude, what'd you say?"
Joe can't imagine that Ryan has the energy to hate anybody. Which, okay, that's stupid, everybody hates somebody, but he's kind of a quiet guy. Joe just didn't think he got pissed off very often. It seems like it takes him a lot of effort to get excited, so Joe's having a hard time picturing anger.
"I told him --- okay, you've seen his makeup. The swirls and the -- yeah," Gabe says, clearing his throat. "I told him it looked good. I was pretty drunk already. It was after the show, and like. I was wasted and -- for real, there's no way that kid doesn't like taking it, right? Right. I might've said, there's no definite way to know now, but I might've told him that his makeup was really nice, that he was pretty, and when he said thank you, I asked if he likes to keep it on when he's getting fucked. But then I said, no, probably not, because that stuff's gotta smear on the bed, right?"
Joe doesn't say anything, because Joe is doing his best not to seem appalled and failing. He finally manages to say, "Um. Dude."
"Yeah. Yeah, I know." Gabe says, and then swears, "I wasn't trying piss him off. I told you I was wasted, and I'm that blunt with everybody, especially Bill. Bill says that kind of shit to me, and like. It was supposed to be funny. Mostly. I didn't know he'd get mad! It could have been an honest question; he doesn't know. I said he looked nice! Anyway, so he hates me, but he didn't say it wasn't true. The other one -- Brendon hates me more, but that's totally because he was fucking him at the time, and it was the worst kept secret in the fucking world. You know, protecting Ryan's honor. So, they'd rather hit me in the throat, but you -- I vote Ryan, dude."
Joe considers it. "Yeah? You're sure."
"Totally," Gabe says, and Joe imagines he even holds up his hand like he's swearing an oath on the other end.
"Hm," he says. "I don't know."
;;
Ryan stares at Joe and says, very slowly, "You want to know if I can what?"
Joe thinks Ryan should get his hearing checked out. He's pretty sure he spoke clearly the first time, and it's not really a sentence Joe wants to repeat, so it would be great if Ryan got his hearing worked on and spared anyone else who might come ask him for sex in the future. Just because, as of right now, Joe knows from experience how much it sucks to have to say, "It's a, uh, two part question: one, do you have sex with dudes? If yes, would you have sex with dudes that are me?" twice to Ryan Ross.
"Huh," Ryan says, scratching at his wrist through his glove. "I thought that was what you said."
"Yeahhh," Joe says, carefully.
"Is this supposed to be funny?"
"Uh. Sadly, no." It would suck as a joke, Joe thinks, since Ryan doesn't look at all amused.
"Pete put you up to this."
"Excuse me? No. Ryan, I just said -- "
"Hey, Brendon!" Ryan calls, and Brendon stops his desperate attempts to hop on Zack's back, trying to wind his arms around Zack's neck.
Joe forces a laugh. He grins weakly and says, "Okay, dude, I am just jok -- it's totally a hypothetical --"
But Brendon's over there in only a few seconds, and Ryan turns to whisper things into Brendon's ear while Joe watches, mildly terrified. He's a little surprised that he feels that way, too, since he's sure he could take both of them if need be, and therefore, neither Ryan nor Brendon should feel particularly threatening, but this has been a week of firsts.
Brendon's half-smiling, and it doesn't fade as Ryan speaks, head turned in secretively. Brendon waves at Joe. He drops his hand, eyes flicking away and then back to him once or twice. When Ryan pulls back, he turns and mutters a quick response, and then they stand next to one another casually, Ryan's hands folded in front of him on his stomach.
He says, simply, "We accept."
"Um," Joe says. "We?"
Wow. First, Joe thinks, whoa, maybe he should have been trying to hook up with other guys a long time ago if he's pulling two on his first try. Then he remembers Gabe's story and thinks, oh. Oh. So that's still going on.
"We," Brendon confirms.
"We only allow other people if it's together," Ryan says.
Brendon nods. "Except on our birthdays. That's like a free pass day."
Joe's eyes widen despite his attempt to remain collected. He didn't even know they were together until a couple days ago, let alone that, "You have rules?"
Ryan looks at Joe like he can't be serious, and Brendon just shrugs. "Not a lot of rules. Just, you know, normal negotiations -- cheating bad, threesomes awesome -- "
" -- girls only on special occasions," Ryan says.
"Orgies are always a possibility -- "
" -- but we have to fuck each other first --
" -- and last. Bondage, spanking -- "
" -- yes, please. We don't do blood or scat -- "
" -- roleplaying's negotiable, and, finally, you can never -- "
" -- ever -- "
" -- go wrong with a quickie in a public place," they finish together, calm and cool.
Joe blinks. "...oh. Uh."
Brendon cracks a smile, but it's Ryan's laugh that comes out first. Ryan says, "Relax. We're just giving you a hard time."
"Yeah," Brendon says. He reaches out to nudge Joe's arm. "We're really cool, I promise. So, do you want to?"
;;
Look. It's not that Ryan and Brendon are a bad idea or that Joe isn't interested, but, man, maybe two is not so good for the first experiment. It gets kind of bizarre, too, because Brendon sits on a chair against the wall at first and just talks about random things. He says he's being supportive, comforting. Keeping it mundane helps everything stay stress free, is what he tries to tell Joe. Really, it just means Brendon's talking about something he thought of while watching Teen Titans the other day at the same time Ryan easily pushes his finger into Joe, saying, oh, yeah, he saw that episode, and so Joe can't stop laughing.
He winces as Ryan twists his finger, and it feels. It mostly feels fucking weird, and Brendon's saying, dude, he'd loved it if he could shapeshift, and Joe seriously does not think he can stop laughing.
Ryan says, "I don't know if this is that funny."
"I don't know, Teen Titans is pretty funny," Brendon says.
"Come on," Joe says, gritting his teeth. "You have your fingers in my ass; it's fucking hilarious."
Except it's also just strange, and, honestly, not necessarily bad, but maybe a little much for him to start. Brendon gets up eventually, and Ryan suggests that, hey, Brendon could do Joe, who could do him, and yeah. Yeah, actually, this is all Joe's good for this round.
He says, "Look, guys --"
They're really nice about it. Brendon jerks Joe off as a some sort of consolation prize. He calls it giving a "Happy Helpful Hand," and when Ryan calls him ridiculous, they kiss right there over Joe, Brendon's hand still working. It's so suddenly sweet that Joe almost feels like he's intruding, but that... doesn't stop him from coming.
The kiss breaks, and Brendon looks down, smiling. He says, "Oh, hey!" like he's oddly proud. Joe thinks they're so bizarre, but at least he knows he can cross gay handjobs and fingering off his list. Done and done.
He sees Patrick the next night. They hang out, and while they're grabbing food, Patrick tells him about some beats he's been working on and how sometimes he does kind of wish they had a Pro Tools set up handy all the time. When Patrick finishes, he says, whatever, so that's been his lame day, and he asks Joe to please tell him something funny.
The first thing Joe thinks is, Well, I let Ryan Ross stick his fingers where the sun don't shine, and that is hilarious to Joe, but also probably not what Patrick means. Instead he says, "Have you ever hung out with Ryan and Brendon? Really hung out with them?"
"Um, yeah. I mean, they were on tour with us."
"Yeah, but I didn't know how weird they were until yesterday," Joe says. He taps his fingers against the table. "Brendon really likes cartoons."
Patrick laughs. "How does that make him -- that doesn't mean he's that weird."
Joe shrugs. He says, "Right, but. I mean, it was just -- the situation. I was -- if we hadn't been, like -- "
Patrick's eyes widen as he catches on. He wrinkles his nose and says, "Oh, Joe, come on. Dude, hey, I'm trying to eat onion rings here."
;;
He calls Gabe again. Joe calls him bright and early on Saturday morning and says, "So that didn't work. Well, it sort of worked. It was about fifteen percent successful, I'd say."
"What are we talking about?" Gabe asks.
"Ryan," Joe says. "You said I should try Ryan -- "
"You did it? Did he say no?"
Joe frowns. Suddenly suspicious, he says, "No. No, he wanted a threesome. Dude, wait, were you just giving me bullshit -- "
"I fucking knew it!" Gabe says, and he sounds ridiculously pleased with himself even through the phone. "And I -- no. I told you, didn't I? I told you."
It's like Gabe isn't even listening to him. Joe repeats that, hello, it didn't work though. He couldn't go through with it; he needs to try something else, someone different maybe.
"How is you pussying out my fault? Fuck, Joe, you had both of them?" Gabe asks, and then quieter, seemingly to himself, "Man, I wonder if I apologize, would they -- "
"Gabe."
"What? Oh," he says. "Oh, okay, fine. New plan."
;;
William thinks the whole thing is a travesty. Not the gay sex, he clarifies, but the fact that Joe is going about it all wrong. Joe tells him about his dream and his valiant efforts with Brendon and Ryan the next time he's in Chicago, and William shakes his head, tsking.
"What? What did I do?" Joe asks.
"Well," William explains. It's not what Joe did. It's what he didn't do. He respects his attempt to jump right into sex with dudes in a threesome and as a bottom. That's really bold, but also sort of like trying to swim before one can float, like trying to saddle up before Joe has a horse to mount.
"Huh," Joe says. He hadn't thought about it that way. That sort of makes sense. "So, I should -- "
"So we should fuck!" William says, smiling. "Top, to be specific. You should top."
"Oh! Oh, but Gabe said maybe you'd do me? That's what I --"
William snorts. "Gabe said? Gabe only said that you were going through a special period of growth and change and spiritual development. It's a delicate time in your life."
"He said all that?"
William's mouth hangs open, and then he snaps it shut, shaking his head. He says, "No, actually Gabe said you needed a deep dicking, but I'm altering the lesson plan, okay? What, do you think Gabe tells me what to do?"
"No! Of course not," Joe says.
"I'm kind of offended, Joe, that you think so little of my leadership skills."
"That's not what I meant."
"I am the master of my own destiny," William explains. "Although, Victoria Beckham is my co-pilot."
"The Spice Girl?"
"Posh was always the classy one." William shrugs.
Joe says, "I -- I guess. I'm sorry, dude." He feels kind of bad now.
"That's okay. I'm over it," William says, and he touches Joe's shoulder. "Anyhow. Shall we?"
Why not? It's not like it would suck to do it William's way first. Joe nods, and then stops, chuckling. "Wait. Wait, does that mean you just referred to yourself as a horse?"
William rolls his eyes. "It's a working metaphor, not a masterpiece, Trohman."
"It's funny," Joe says.
"Do you want in my pants or not?" William asks, and yeah. Yes, Joe does, so he shuts up.
And it turns out that sex with William is a pretty good idea. He's kind of a pushy bottom, over-directing until Joe reminds him that the issue is he's never fucked another guy, not that he's never used his dick before. He lightens up, thankfully, and Joe figures that has more to do with him finally sliding in and proving he's not sexually inept rather than just giving him the admonition on its own.
William moans. He rolls his hips and says, "I'm just trying to," pausing as he grits his teeth, "I'm helping."
"And, hey. Thanks for that," Joe says, pushing forward again. "Okay?"
William's hand tightens on Joe's arm, and he hums softly. This was a really good idea, actually. William is pliant and encouraging, pushing into Joe's thrusts, and it's not that Joe didn't notice that William is really kind of gorgeous before now, but. Back when he first started letting his hair grow out, Joe had a conversation with Mike Kennerty about dudes who, no matter how you tried to get around it, could only be described as beautiful, because they were definitely out there and fucking things up for guys who don't want to use adjectives like "beautiful" when describing other men. Of course, neither Joe nor Mike have that problem. Joe got stoned and kissed Pete in a stranger's garage just because once, but some people have serious issues, and anyway, long story short, William was in the top five. He doesn't remember most of the list now other than that Jeremy Sumpter -- pre-puberty, specifically in Peter Pan -- had rounded out the top ten. He remembers because he gave Mike a lot of shit for even knowing that kid's name and because, dude, he was a child, even though it was kind of true about him looking soft and feminine sometimes.
So, Joe has been aware of William for while. He's not blind, but he's never been up close either. He hasn't ever touched William's stomach, smoothing his fingers over the skin as William's body arched and Joe slid inside like this, and it's true. William's fucking adjectives up for a lot of people. Joe feels really good.
Although, it might even be better if Joe's just hearing things as he comes, and William doesn't really say, "Excellent, now go forth and complete your journey. Find your next conquest."
"Wait," Joe says, lying beside William. "You're not gonna do me? That was the whole reason I came up here."
"Don't be greedy, Joe," William says, patting Joe's arm. "Look, tell me about the dream again."
Joe huffs and scratches his face. This whole thing is turning out to be more hassle than Joe's sure he wants. He says, "You know the dream. It's simple. A chick in a sparkly skirt came to me and said that, you know, guys. Sex with guys is awesome."
"Phenomenal," William corrects, holding a finger up. "And, okay! See? Guys. Plurality, variety, promiscuity."
"Uh, what?"
"I'm not going to fuck you, Joe," William says resolutely.
Joe frowns. That's -- he's. "That's kind of unfair, Bill."
"I am merely a step in the right direction. You have to try different people. You won't find yourself sticking to me."
"That sounds like a line, dude," Joe says, because it really does. He doesn't need Nirvana. He just wants sex. "Didn't you just spend a whole day with Gabe? What if I do find myself here?" He makes the fingers quotes. "I could be here."
"You aren't," William says. "I looked."
Joe laughs, and William smirks. He's so full of shit. Joe tells him this.
"I'm trying to guide you," is William's defense, and he has the audacity to sound completely genuine. "Thanks for coming to me though. I had a nice time. I really think you're on your way."
;;
For a guy who's recently gotten laid, Joe feels sort of frustrated when he goes to rehearsal next. Patrick asks him if it's just one of those days during a water break, if his head's just not in it, and Joe nods, but then he opens his mouth to speak and realizes he's sulking because William Beckett wouldn't fuck him. That -- if that's not the lamest reason he's ever been bummed out, then it's at least competing for the title. Moreover, Joe has no idea how he's supposed to tell Patrick that that's why his lame ass has moped through half their songs today, and so he sticks to silent agreement.
He nods, thinks about it, and then says, somewhat honest, "No, like. Exploring gay sex is hard."
Patrick shifts and starts to nods as well, sympathetic, but then stops and raises his head. He says, "Hold on, I thought. I thought you already -- Is this still about Brendon or Ryan, or. Whatever?"
"Oh, no," Joe says.
"No," Patrick echoes. He presses the buttons on a soda machine, knuckling them idly. "Um. What happened with that? I thought you said you did it. With them. Back in LA. "
Joe shakes his head. "Not really. It's complicated."
"Cartoons?"
"Yeah," Joe says, chuckling. "Sort of. Dude, you don't have to talk about it with me. I mean, that's cool, but I know -- "
"Well, I'm just," Patrick says, shrugging and fixing his hat. He pulls up on the brim. "Andy was saying that -- I don't mind -- "
"Joe!" Pete calls. He chooses that moment to run up and tell Joe that he has a present for him. He pins a bright pink button on Joe's t-shirt that proclaims "It's my first time!" in bold white letters. It's kind of big.
Pete says, "I thought of you when I saw it."
Joe laughs. He tugs at the shirt, angling it so that he can see the button. "Thanks, Pete."
"Yeah, definitely," he says. "I tried to find one that said 'At gay sex!' or something close to complete the message, you know? But they don't sell it! Can you believe that? I'm gonna try Ebay."
"Or we could just make it," Andy offers, walking up them.
"Oh, fuck, yeah. That's what I'll do," Pete says. "I'll put illustrations on it, too. Accurate depictions of assfucking."
"On one button?" Patrick asks, smirking.
Pete bounces on the balls of his feet, laughing, and says, "Fuck, I'm excited now. Come on, break's over. Let's finish. I've got to make it to the arts and crafts store before it closes."
;;
Upon speaking to Gabe once again, Joe says simply, "Two strikes, dude. What kind of gay sex guru are you?"
Joe's beginning to lose faith in the guy. Gabe says, "Fuck you, I still maintain that the first one wasn't my fault. You choked."
"Okay, fine," Joe concedes. "But William -- William didn't reciprocate. That sucks."
"How was I supposed to know the guy would be full of loyalty to some kind of mission?" Gabe says. "You people are too complicated for me. This should be easy. In my day, all you had to do was find a dude, ask him politely, and then bend over or bend him over. Kids these days and their fucking etiquette. You have to go on quests -- "
"You're not even thirty, Gabe."
"You're missing the point, dude," Gabe says, snorting. "At most, all anybody had to do was a buy a guy a drink, get him -- oh. Oh, Joe."
"No."
"What the fuck? Beggars can't be choosers, Trohman. Listen." Gabe's advice -- Gabe's honest advice for Joe is to pick somebody and make sure they get wasted. He says, "Or high. As a matter of fact, that's quicker."
Joe feels like they're just reaching now. Maybe he should just give it up. Getting someone drunk? That sounds kind of fucked up.
"Man, whatever," Gabe says. "Any dude that against the idea isn't going to magically change his mind just because he's got a little JD in his system."
"Uh huh," Joe says. It still sounds sketchy to him. He's pretty sure he's done with letting Gabe give him advice on how to achieve this goal. "How many people have you gotten -- "
"Please, dude," Gabe interrupts, and he yawns. "You wish I was ever that hard up. Inebriation is just the icing on the cake for me and mine. Although, one of the first times I hung out with Alex, we -- "
"I don't want to know," Joe says quickly.
"You're right, you're right. A story for another time," he says. "Okay, I have some, uh, important business to attend to, but you -- your time is now, dude."
"What?" Joe asks.
"I don't know, man, that kind of shit works for Bill. I thought I'd try it."
;;
The worst thing about it is that Gabe's right. Joe doesn't go looking to get anybody stupid drunk or anything. It's just a regular night for Travis, but still.
His band has some time off, and he's spent the day with Patrick, him and Matt following Patrick from record store to record store. Joe meets them back at Patrick's apartment, and he and Travis take a walk around the neighborhood, Dixie cups in hand and sharing joints Travis managed to roll in the car on the way to the building.
They're catching each other up on things, covering various subjects at random, and Joe spills about his adventures as a man with a brand new interest in the wonders of cock. Travis is so stoned that he laughs the whole time, not mocking but still endlessly amused.
Joe finishes telling him about William, frowning at the joint between his fingers, and says, "But you know how he is. Whatever, at least I can cross gay topping off the list."
"Gay toppings, man?" Travis asks, shoulders bouncing lightly. "Are you making a pizza?"
It's hardly even a joke, but Joe laughs anyway, because, God, his life has been extraordinarily ridiculous the past few weeks. He's got a list. It isn't just a mental memo. Joe has a real, tangible list scrawled on the back of a Taco Bell receipt titled Non-Straight Activities For Dudes Seeking Dudes that he made and keeps track of just because he had a dream that some glittering pixie thing told him, hey, gay sex might be fun. And, okay, it has been mostly good so far, but Joe feels a little silly explaining it to people over and over. They laugh, and it is admittedly kind of hilarious, but it's not -- he's not kidding, so --
"I wish it was that simple," Joe says, smirking, and he realizes how stoned he is when he hears a car and tries to turn to see it but has to blink away dizziness. He's more than a little disoriented. "How to become homosexually enlightened in five easy steps."
Travis laughs. "Only five?"
"Well," Joe says, and he tries to count on his fingers. "Maybe more."
When they're out of weed, Travis says he can roll another, but he left his eighth in the car. They fumble their way upstairs to fetch the keys to Matt's rental, Matt and Patrick flipping channels and talking about blisters or something -- calluses. Joe doesn't notice that he's frowning until Patrick smiles at him, bemused, and clues Joe in that Matt's talking about drumming.
"You're that high?" Patrick asks, and he leans sideways to clip Joe's hip affectionately.
"Man," Joe sighs. He rubs his hand over his face and shakes his head, trying to clear it. "I guess? Wow."
"We found a new go-to guy out here," Matt says, casually. "Really good."
Travis comes out of the kitchen with the keys in his hand then, and that's the part where things get complicated. They smoke with the windows down. Hotboxing is great, but not where they have to return the merchandise. It's a roomy SUV, comfortable, and it's when Travis says, exhaling smoke, "Yo, now that I think about it, I do remember Bill talking about cosmic destiny or some shit," that Joe thinks he might be able to stretch out across the backseat without too much trouble even. He's isn't that tall.
"That's what Gabe said," Joe says, turning around to really get an idea how much room there might be. Maybe if they pushed the seats forward. He twists in his chair.
Travis holds out the joint for him, saying, "I think I just thought he was drunk. I mean, I'm pretty sure he was, anyway. I definitely was. All I really heard was the part about sucking my dick. What are you doing?"
"I'm --" Joe says and pauses. Huh. Blowjobs. He files that one away under Worthwhile Endeavor. "Do you think we could both fit in the back?"
"Uhm," Travis says, and then, "Oh! Oh. Joe, I have long legs, man."
;;
Pro: With enough determination and maneuvering, a 2007 Range Rover is an ideal and surprisingly accommodating location for enjoying oral sex and then reciprocating. Spacious, private, and complete with that new car smell.
Con: While Joe can now cross "mouth hugs" off his list, Travis won't fuck him. That has little to do with the car and is probably more the fault of how high they are. They can't figure out a way to get Joe's legs around Travis's easily, and then it just doesn't feel worth it somehow.
"We should go back upstairs," Travis says, tugging down Joe's shirt for him. "Sorry."
"It's cool," Joe says. There are probably worse things than being stuck as the little ass-virgin that could. "Thanks."
Matt and Patrick are watching a movie Joe doesn't recognize when they get upstairs. He suddenly feels too tired to get himself together and hang out on the couch with them, so he calls out goodnight and heads to one of Patrick's two extra bedrooms. Before he passes out, he sends Gabe a text message that simply reads, "Fired," and tucks his hand behind his head, thankful that he at least doesn't have blue balls.
;;
Joe pads into Patrick's kitchen after noon the next day, Matt and Travis already gone, but Patrick's frying eggs for breakfast anyway. Joe's head feels cloudy. It isn't a pounding headache, but remnants of the night before stick to his brain. He tucks his hands in his back pockets and asks, suddenly, "Is there something wrong with my ass?"
Patrick glances over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. Still pushing around eggs with the spatula, he asks, "What, like -- is it still there?"
"Huh?" Joe asks. "I mean, yeah. Yeah, it's still there."
"Then I don't know what the problem is," Patrick says, smiling lightly.
Joe twists his mouth. He presses his lips together and tries to think of a way to say this that doesn't sound quite as tacky as, "Then why won't anybody give me dick?"
Patrick makes a sound that's somewhere between a snort and a gasp. It's the ugliest sound Joe has ever heard in his life, and he laughs, apologizing for catching Patrick off guard like that.
"Shut up. Grab some plates," Patrick says. He turns off the stove and divides the eggs evenly. He empties the pan, sets it back on the stove, and as he takes his plate from Joe, Patrick shrugs. "I -- did you really want an answer to that? I'm kind of at a loss, dude. They don't teach this one."
"Um, no. I'm just -- saying," Joe tells him. He's got some turmoil in his life. He has anal angst, but there really isn't anything Patrick can do about it.
Patrick nods, and they make their way to his living room. He doesn't have a table out here. All the best furniture is at his house in Chicago, so they sit on couch and prop their feet on his cheap, blue IKEA coffee table.
He says, "Well, hey, you can vent. I told you I don't mind."
"I don't know, dude. Are you sure?" Joe asks, but Patrick just repeats himself, so Joe fills him in using none too graphic details. He leaves out names other than Ryan and Brendon, because Patrick already knows about them.
Afterwards, Patrick swallows his last bite of food and says, "First, I think you should stop listening to Gabe."
"Oh, I have. He means well --"
" -- but, yeah," Patrick finishes, nodding. "And it doesn't sound like there's, you know. I don't think there's anything wrong with you or... your ass."
"Thanks," Joe says, chuckling, because Patrick is maybe the only person he knows who could say that sentence and make it seem reassuring rather than extremely stupid. Not that it isn't a little stupid anyway, on principle. Nevertheless, Joe feels less frustrated. He would still like some gay sex where he bottoms, though, but there's only one way to fix that.
He follows Patrick to the kitchen and dries the plates and pan as Patrick washes them. He tells Patrick that he does honestly like this day a lot more suddenly, partly because he's got a full belly, but even that's Patrick's doing. They don't have to go to rehearsal until sometime in the evening today. It's just a short session, so Joe thinks he might stick around and occupy Patrick's space for a while. Lounge on his couch, eat his Oreos.
"You're probably excited," Joe says.
"Honored," Patrick says.
"Dude, I know. That's a whole bunch of extra me. That's exciting."
Patrick lifts his head when he laughs, turning off the water, and Joe gets him lower than he intends when he tries to smack a kiss to Patrick's face. Joe's hardly taller than Patrick, making it easy to catch the corner of his mouth next, to slide the extra couple centimeters and settle firmly in that place just past carried away. Patrick doesn't open his mouth wide, but he does open, their lips brushing dry and soft. He isn't wearing anything on his head, still in sleep clothes, worn and comfortable, and Joe encourages him to turn as he touches Patrick's face, his neck, so that they face one another completely.
Patrick's fingers are still wet, clenched loosely in Joe's own t-shirt, but Joe doesn't mind it. He's preoccupied with the unexpected warmth blooming in his stomach when he tries to pull back and Patrick rocks up to the balls of his feet, following, not allowing any gap.
"Wow," Joe breathes when they do get air. He hears Patrick's heels thump dully as he sinks into the floor again, and he wipes a hand across his eyes. When Joe glances down, he can see the damp blotches in his shirt, evidence of Patrick's touch. "This isn't because -- "
"No, no," Patrick says. He knocks his knuckles against Joe's chest lightly, reflexively, as if trying to quiet Joe, because, "That's not -- I don't know how to say it so that it doesn't sound lame, dude, so don't make me, but no. It's not that."
Joe nods. He says, "Okay," and waits, staring at Patrick's fingers curling against him, then says, "So. So, again?"
"Yeah," Patrick whispers, and he kisses Joe this time, more forceful but still sweeter than Joe would have guessed.
He's losing himself in it, kissing Patrick and touching his waist now, bumping their bodies closer until something occurs to him and he jolts back. He asks, startled, "Wait, what about Pete?"
"Um? What about -- "
Joe shakes his head. "The contract thing? I thought you liked girls, Patrick, and then Pete said -- "
Patrick laughs, maybe even a little derisively, and says, "That? That was years ago, Joe, come on. And it was a joke."
Um. Okay, whatever. Joe clearly doesn't know as much about Patrick as he thought, but that's fine. This is definitely alright with him. He says, "Right, okay. Alright," and then moves to lean in again but stops. "Hold on. Patrick, are you trying to deflower me?"
Patrick chuckles, smiles.
"That's kind of dirty, dude," Joe says. "I'm surprised."
Patrick glances away, biting his lip. When he turns back, his expression has darkened slightly, and he says, just casually enough to make Joe's stomach twist, "Joe, I have three bedrooms. Pick one," and, really, Joe can't throw out an answer fast enough.
;;
An indeterminable amount of time later, Joe rolls over on the mattress and relishes Nirvana.
He still believes in magic fairies.
;;
At rehearsal that evening, Pete practically sprints over when Joe and Patrick come through the door, brandishing a button that is aggressively orange and offensive even from a distance. He's saying something as well but stops dead when he notices Patrick and Joe's clasped hands.
"Dude!" he shouts, "You won't believe how many tries it took for -- what the shit is this?"
Joe pinches the button from Pete's fingers and holds up in front of his shirt, turning to the mirror to see it. It's fucking hideous. Yellow glitter was obviously involved in its creation.
"My first time," Joe says, smiling at his reflection.
"You and," Pete says, and then his mouth drops wide as he looks to, "PATRICK."
"What's going on?" Andy calls from across the room.
"Patrick, we had an agreement," Pete says, and then to Joe, "And you helped me type it up! That's so low, you guys."
"I told you," Joe says to Patrick.
Patrick rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He says, "I never signed that contract, Pete."
"Whatever, I like. I forged it," he says, sheepishly. Pete shrugs, going from indignant to shamefaced.
"You did what?"
"What, I was gonna tell you!" he says. "I swear. Anyway, that's not what we're focusing on here. The point is you two suck."
Joe smirks. He says, "Well, if you want to get technical, that's not -- "
"Trohman!" Pete interjects, and he snatches the button out of his hands and tucks it in his back pocket. "Give me that back. You don't deserve it, you filthy traitor. I hope you're both happy with yourselves."
Joe smiles, Patrick's hand warm in his, and he nods for Pete.
It's true. He is.
gigantic: ohh, Joe. he never gets any gay sex. it's hard for him.
ficbyzee: it is.
gigantic: hahaha, naturally, i feel like writing something wretched about it.
Token
by Charli J. Joe/various. R. 6,813 words. Joe has a life-changing dream.
100% untrue work of fiction, no harm intended, etc.
Joe says -- and it's plain, the way he starts out. He closes his magazine, looks around the room, and calmly announces, "So. I had a dream."
"Oh, yeah?" Pete says, perfunctorily, because nobody is really listening, but somebody has to fill the silence. Joe's done his share of filling that preoccupied silence. Generally when Andy starts talking about new ingredients he's going to try in his protein shakes and asks what they think, Joe fills in that silence. That's great, Andy. Blueberries sound awesome.
"Yeah," Joe says. He's not easily discouraged. "You guys. Look. I had this dream. There was this, like -- the tooth fairy, except she was telling me I should hook up with guys. And I thought she meant, you know, making out, so. So I tried to tell her, 'Dude. Been there, done that,' and she said, 'Joseph,' -- she called me Joseph, it was weird. 'Joseph. Sex with other young, strong males is phenomenal.' I... I don't know."
Andy looks up. He stops tapping his drum stick against his thigh. "The tooth fairy told you to have gay sex?"
Joe shrugs. Well, when he says -- if he's going to say it like that. "I guess? Pretty much."
He's considering it. They're looking at him like he's being irrational or like they can't believe it, but he is. Joe Trohman is weighing the possibility of gay sex.
Patrick looks up from his laptop, hand paused over the mousepad. He pulls one earphone off and says, "Oh. Um."
And Joe cuts in explaining, "I mean, come on. Someone came to me in a dream."
"But that's just it. It was a dream," Pete points out.
"Yeah, but," Joe says, and God. God, like, that's what he just said? He knows that. "She was glowing, dude. That's -- come on, you have to admit that that's pretty special. How many fairies have come to you? Glowing. Seriously, I'm thinking about it."
;;
He has to figure out what his best options are. When he woke up this morning, it seemed like a fairly easy thing to accomplish. He's around dudes all the time, but as he starts considering it, Joe realizes that he might be out of his element here. Or, well, he definitely is, that's kind of the whole point.
He considers his band first.
It can't be Pete, because it's Pete. Joe can't really think of any specific reason other than that. He once heard that when someone answers a question with only the word "because," it's because either he or she really doesn't know or because the answer is so complicated and hard to comprehend that taking the time to explain isn't even worth it. Maybe Douglas Adams wrote that. That sounds like the sort of thing Douglas Adams would write. Andy made Joe read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy a couple years ago, because Joe wanted to see the movie for Mos Def, and Andy has a thing about reading the books first. Anyway! The point is -- what was the point? -- oh, Pete. It can't be Pete, and that's reason enough.
Patrick says he's straight, but Joe knows Patrick well enough that if Patrick really thought it would help, he'd probably give Joe a handjob or something. Patrick's really dependable that way. Joe won't make him though, because he doesn't want to traumatize Patrick or anything, especially not in the name of friendship. Anyway, he's pretty sure Pete called first dibs on any unexpected gay adventures Patrick might have like four years ago.
(Fact: Pete was actually wearing a purple robe at four in the morning at the time, and he typed up the final draft on cotton resume paper. It began: In the event that Patrick Martin Stump(h) should, any day henceforth, bat for the other team, Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III shall be first to round all three bases and touch home plate... There's still a copy taped inside his closet.)
So that's a no for Patrick. Andy actually tells Joe at lunch that he'll do it if Joe wants, but Joe's kind of put off by someone who doesn't hesitate at all.
"Just like that?" Joe says. "No."
Andy shrugs. "Why not?"
"Because I didn't know, like -- you're gay?"
"I'm open-minded," Andy says. "Hey, you said you needed to find somebody. I figured -- I thought maybe it'd just be easier. Or something. Less scary. Since you want to do it."
Andy shrugs. Oh. That's actually kind of thoughtful. That's kind of sweet, so Joe says, "Oh. Well, that's really nice, actually. Thanks. But you don't have to, dude."
"Cool," Andy says, fixing his glasses. "Do you have somebody already? Who're you gonna get then?"
And that, Joe thinks, is still the question.
;;
Okay. So, he's not gonna do it with anyone in his own band, even though he probably could. It's just better if he doesn't, so he won't. However, that means Joe doesn't know where to take his new goal next, so he picks up the phone and calls the only person most likely to understand completely when Joe says that he's had a dream -- a vision! -- and now he's seriously considering the true value of cock.
Gabe answers after three rings.
"Joe! Hello!" he says brightly. "Is this business, pleasure, or both? Because I don't have a problem with mixing."
"It's kind of -- It's special," Joe says, and then explains himself. He explains his dream and asks Gabe how he feels about sex with dudes. Has he had sex with dudes? Correct him if he's wrong or out of bounds here, but he's pretty sure that Gabe and William have -- you know. At least a couple times. He just needs advice from someone seasoned.
"Well," Gabe tells him, sagely, "Confucius say: the superior man is satisfied and composed, because the superior man loves the cock."
Um. Okay. Joe says, "Yeah. Alright, I doubt -- "
"Hey, don't take my word for it," Gabe says. "Look it up."
"No, cool, I'll take your word for it," Joe tells him. Gabe's full of shit, but he's also got a lot of actual, useful knowledge, too, if you let him razzle dazzle you for a minute. Joe asks, "So you think this is a good idea?"
Gabe snorts. He obviously thinks it's great. He says that, actually, he's pretty sure William was visited by the same fairy a couple years back.
"No, listen. Hear me out, seriously," Gabe insists when Joe laughs. "I swear, man, he just showed up at my house one day, talking about how he wanted to try something, you know. And, dude, like. The golden rule spans a lot of religions, Joe. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you and shit. That's pretty universal. If I was in need -- if I needed help, and I asked Bill for a favor, I'd hope he'd do what he could, you know? Who am I to break the golden rule?"
Joe says, "I guess if you put it that way -- "
"You have to!" Gabe says. "That's what it is. I'm like -- I'm just trying to be a good person."
"Right."
"Anyway," Gabe continues. "Good luck, dude, is what I'm saying. Who's gonna help you out with that?"
And Joe explains that that's kind of the problem. The fairy wasn't specific, really. It was kind of a half-ass dream. He's a little afraid that means this whole thing is bogus, but Gabe swears that, no, it just means his fate's in his owns hands.
"Really," Joe says, skeptically.
"Yeah! Like I vote for Ryan," Gabe says. "He'd do it. I mean, he hates me because I said something about his makeup once, but. It wasn't even an insult, but whatever -- "
"Dude, what'd you say?"
Joe can't imagine that Ryan has the energy to hate anybody. Which, okay, that's stupid, everybody hates somebody, but he's kind of a quiet guy. Joe just didn't think he got pissed off very often. It seems like it takes him a lot of effort to get excited, so Joe's having a hard time picturing anger.
"I told him --- okay, you've seen his makeup. The swirls and the -- yeah," Gabe says, clearing his throat. "I told him it looked good. I was pretty drunk already. It was after the show, and like. I was wasted and -- for real, there's no way that kid doesn't like taking it, right? Right. I might've said, there's no definite way to know now, but I might've told him that his makeup was really nice, that he was pretty, and when he said thank you, I asked if he likes to keep it on when he's getting fucked. But then I said, no, probably not, because that stuff's gotta smear on the bed, right?"
Joe doesn't say anything, because Joe is doing his best not to seem appalled and failing. He finally manages to say, "Um. Dude."
"Yeah. Yeah, I know." Gabe says, and then swears, "I wasn't trying piss him off. I told you I was wasted, and I'm that blunt with everybody, especially Bill. Bill says that kind of shit to me, and like. It was supposed to be funny. Mostly. I didn't know he'd get mad! It could have been an honest question; he doesn't know. I said he looked nice! Anyway, so he hates me, but he didn't say it wasn't true. The other one -- Brendon hates me more, but that's totally because he was fucking him at the time, and it was the worst kept secret in the fucking world. You know, protecting Ryan's honor. So, they'd rather hit me in the throat, but you -- I vote Ryan, dude."
Joe considers it. "Yeah? You're sure."
"Totally," Gabe says, and Joe imagines he even holds up his hand like he's swearing an oath on the other end.
"Hm," he says. "I don't know."
;;
Ryan stares at Joe and says, very slowly, "You want to know if I can what?"
Joe thinks Ryan should get his hearing checked out. He's pretty sure he spoke clearly the first time, and it's not really a sentence Joe wants to repeat, so it would be great if Ryan got his hearing worked on and spared anyone else who might come ask him for sex in the future. Just because, as of right now, Joe knows from experience how much it sucks to have to say, "It's a, uh, two part question: one, do you have sex with dudes? If yes, would you have sex with dudes that are me?" twice to Ryan Ross.
"Huh," Ryan says, scratching at his wrist through his glove. "I thought that was what you said."
"Yeahhh," Joe says, carefully.
"Is this supposed to be funny?"
"Uh. Sadly, no." It would suck as a joke, Joe thinks, since Ryan doesn't look at all amused.
"Pete put you up to this."
"Excuse me? No. Ryan, I just said -- "
"Hey, Brendon!" Ryan calls, and Brendon stops his desperate attempts to hop on Zack's back, trying to wind his arms around Zack's neck.
Joe forces a laugh. He grins weakly and says, "Okay, dude, I am just jok -- it's totally a hypothetical --"
But Brendon's over there in only a few seconds, and Ryan turns to whisper things into Brendon's ear while Joe watches, mildly terrified. He's a little surprised that he feels that way, too, since he's sure he could take both of them if need be, and therefore, neither Ryan nor Brendon should feel particularly threatening, but this has been a week of firsts.
Brendon's half-smiling, and it doesn't fade as Ryan speaks, head turned in secretively. Brendon waves at Joe. He drops his hand, eyes flicking away and then back to him once or twice. When Ryan pulls back, he turns and mutters a quick response, and then they stand next to one another casually, Ryan's hands folded in front of him on his stomach.
He says, simply, "We accept."
"Um," Joe says. "We?"
Wow. First, Joe thinks, whoa, maybe he should have been trying to hook up with other guys a long time ago if he's pulling two on his first try. Then he remembers Gabe's story and thinks, oh. Oh. So that's still going on.
"We," Brendon confirms.
"We only allow other people if it's together," Ryan says.
Brendon nods. "Except on our birthdays. That's like a free pass day."
Joe's eyes widen despite his attempt to remain collected. He didn't even know they were together until a couple days ago, let alone that, "You have rules?"
Ryan looks at Joe like he can't be serious, and Brendon just shrugs. "Not a lot of rules. Just, you know, normal negotiations -- cheating bad, threesomes awesome -- "
" -- girls only on special occasions," Ryan says.
"Orgies are always a possibility -- "
" -- but we have to fuck each other first --
" -- and last. Bondage, spanking -- "
" -- yes, please. We don't do blood or scat -- "
" -- roleplaying's negotiable, and, finally, you can never -- "
" -- ever -- "
" -- go wrong with a quickie in a public place," they finish together, calm and cool.
Joe blinks. "...oh. Uh."
Brendon cracks a smile, but it's Ryan's laugh that comes out first. Ryan says, "Relax. We're just giving you a hard time."
"Yeah," Brendon says. He reaches out to nudge Joe's arm. "We're really cool, I promise. So, do you want to?"
;;
Look. It's not that Ryan and Brendon are a bad idea or that Joe isn't interested, but, man, maybe two is not so good for the first experiment. It gets kind of bizarre, too, because Brendon sits on a chair against the wall at first and just talks about random things. He says he's being supportive, comforting. Keeping it mundane helps everything stay stress free, is what he tries to tell Joe. Really, it just means Brendon's talking about something he thought of while watching Teen Titans the other day at the same time Ryan easily pushes his finger into Joe, saying, oh, yeah, he saw that episode, and so Joe can't stop laughing.
He winces as Ryan twists his finger, and it feels. It mostly feels fucking weird, and Brendon's saying, dude, he'd loved it if he could shapeshift, and Joe seriously does not think he can stop laughing.
Ryan says, "I don't know if this is that funny."
"I don't know, Teen Titans is pretty funny," Brendon says.
"Come on," Joe says, gritting his teeth. "You have your fingers in my ass; it's fucking hilarious."
Except it's also just strange, and, honestly, not necessarily bad, but maybe a little much for him to start. Brendon gets up eventually, and Ryan suggests that, hey, Brendon could do Joe, who could do him, and yeah. Yeah, actually, this is all Joe's good for this round.
He says, "Look, guys --"
They're really nice about it. Brendon jerks Joe off as a some sort of consolation prize. He calls it giving a "Happy Helpful Hand," and when Ryan calls him ridiculous, they kiss right there over Joe, Brendon's hand still working. It's so suddenly sweet that Joe almost feels like he's intruding, but that... doesn't stop him from coming.
The kiss breaks, and Brendon looks down, smiling. He says, "Oh, hey!" like he's oddly proud. Joe thinks they're so bizarre, but at least he knows he can cross gay handjobs and fingering off his list. Done and done.
He sees Patrick the next night. They hang out, and while they're grabbing food, Patrick tells him about some beats he's been working on and how sometimes he does kind of wish they had a Pro Tools set up handy all the time. When Patrick finishes, he says, whatever, so that's been his lame day, and he asks Joe to please tell him something funny.
The first thing Joe thinks is, Well, I let Ryan Ross stick his fingers where the sun don't shine, and that is hilarious to Joe, but also probably not what Patrick means. Instead he says, "Have you ever hung out with Ryan and Brendon? Really hung out with them?"
"Um, yeah. I mean, they were on tour with us."
"Yeah, but I didn't know how weird they were until yesterday," Joe says. He taps his fingers against the table. "Brendon really likes cartoons."
Patrick laughs. "How does that make him -- that doesn't mean he's that weird."
Joe shrugs. He says, "Right, but. I mean, it was just -- the situation. I was -- if we hadn't been, like -- "
Patrick's eyes widen as he catches on. He wrinkles his nose and says, "Oh, Joe, come on. Dude, hey, I'm trying to eat onion rings here."
;;
He calls Gabe again. Joe calls him bright and early on Saturday morning and says, "So that didn't work. Well, it sort of worked. It was about fifteen percent successful, I'd say."
"What are we talking about?" Gabe asks.
"Ryan," Joe says. "You said I should try Ryan -- "
"You did it? Did he say no?"
Joe frowns. Suddenly suspicious, he says, "No. No, he wanted a threesome. Dude, wait, were you just giving me bullshit -- "
"I fucking knew it!" Gabe says, and he sounds ridiculously pleased with himself even through the phone. "And I -- no. I told you, didn't I? I told you."
It's like Gabe isn't even listening to him. Joe repeats that, hello, it didn't work though. He couldn't go through with it; he needs to try something else, someone different maybe.
"How is you pussying out my fault? Fuck, Joe, you had both of them?" Gabe asks, and then quieter, seemingly to himself, "Man, I wonder if I apologize, would they -- "
"Gabe."
"What? Oh," he says. "Oh, okay, fine. New plan."
;;
William thinks the whole thing is a travesty. Not the gay sex, he clarifies, but the fact that Joe is going about it all wrong. Joe tells him about his dream and his valiant efforts with Brendon and Ryan the next time he's in Chicago, and William shakes his head, tsking.
"What? What did I do?" Joe asks.
"Well," William explains. It's not what Joe did. It's what he didn't do. He respects his attempt to jump right into sex with dudes in a threesome and as a bottom. That's really bold, but also sort of like trying to swim before one can float, like trying to saddle up before Joe has a horse to mount.
"Huh," Joe says. He hadn't thought about it that way. That sort of makes sense. "So, I should -- "
"So we should fuck!" William says, smiling. "Top, to be specific. You should top."
"Oh! Oh, but Gabe said maybe you'd do me? That's what I --"
William snorts. "Gabe said? Gabe only said that you were going through a special period of growth and change and spiritual development. It's a delicate time in your life."
"He said all that?"
William's mouth hangs open, and then he snaps it shut, shaking his head. He says, "No, actually Gabe said you needed a deep dicking, but I'm altering the lesson plan, okay? What, do you think Gabe tells me what to do?"
"No! Of course not," Joe says.
"I'm kind of offended, Joe, that you think so little of my leadership skills."
"That's not what I meant."
"I am the master of my own destiny," William explains. "Although, Victoria Beckham is my co-pilot."
"The Spice Girl?"
"Posh was always the classy one." William shrugs.
Joe says, "I -- I guess. I'm sorry, dude." He feels kind of bad now.
"That's okay. I'm over it," William says, and he touches Joe's shoulder. "Anyhow. Shall we?"
Why not? It's not like it would suck to do it William's way first. Joe nods, and then stops, chuckling. "Wait. Wait, does that mean you just referred to yourself as a horse?"
William rolls his eyes. "It's a working metaphor, not a masterpiece, Trohman."
"It's funny," Joe says.
"Do you want in my pants or not?" William asks, and yeah. Yes, Joe does, so he shuts up.
And it turns out that sex with William is a pretty good idea. He's kind of a pushy bottom, over-directing until Joe reminds him that the issue is he's never fucked another guy, not that he's never used his dick before. He lightens up, thankfully, and Joe figures that has more to do with him finally sliding in and proving he's not sexually inept rather than just giving him the admonition on its own.
William moans. He rolls his hips and says, "I'm just trying to," pausing as he grits his teeth, "I'm helping."
"And, hey. Thanks for that," Joe says, pushing forward again. "Okay?"
William's hand tightens on Joe's arm, and he hums softly. This was a really good idea, actually. William is pliant and encouraging, pushing into Joe's thrusts, and it's not that Joe didn't notice that William is really kind of gorgeous before now, but. Back when he first started letting his hair grow out, Joe had a conversation with Mike Kennerty about dudes who, no matter how you tried to get around it, could only be described as beautiful, because they were definitely out there and fucking things up for guys who don't want to use adjectives like "beautiful" when describing other men. Of course, neither Joe nor Mike have that problem. Joe got stoned and kissed Pete in a stranger's garage just because once, but some people have serious issues, and anyway, long story short, William was in the top five. He doesn't remember most of the list now other than that Jeremy Sumpter -- pre-puberty, specifically in Peter Pan -- had rounded out the top ten. He remembers because he gave Mike a lot of shit for even knowing that kid's name and because, dude, he was a child, even though it was kind of true about him looking soft and feminine sometimes.
So, Joe has been aware of William for while. He's not blind, but he's never been up close either. He hasn't ever touched William's stomach, smoothing his fingers over the skin as William's body arched and Joe slid inside like this, and it's true. William's fucking adjectives up for a lot of people. Joe feels really good.
Although, it might even be better if Joe's just hearing things as he comes, and William doesn't really say, "Excellent, now go forth and complete your journey. Find your next conquest."
"Wait," Joe says, lying beside William. "You're not gonna do me? That was the whole reason I came up here."
"Don't be greedy, Joe," William says, patting Joe's arm. "Look, tell me about the dream again."
Joe huffs and scratches his face. This whole thing is turning out to be more hassle than Joe's sure he wants. He says, "You know the dream. It's simple. A chick in a sparkly skirt came to me and said that, you know, guys. Sex with guys is awesome."
"Phenomenal," William corrects, holding a finger up. "And, okay! See? Guys. Plurality, variety, promiscuity."
"Uh, what?"
"I'm not going to fuck you, Joe," William says resolutely.
Joe frowns. That's -- he's. "That's kind of unfair, Bill."
"I am merely a step in the right direction. You have to try different people. You won't find yourself sticking to me."
"That sounds like a line, dude," Joe says, because it really does. He doesn't need Nirvana. He just wants sex. "Didn't you just spend a whole day with Gabe? What if I do find myself here?" He makes the fingers quotes. "I could be here."
"You aren't," William says. "I looked."
Joe laughs, and William smirks. He's so full of shit. Joe tells him this.
"I'm trying to guide you," is William's defense, and he has the audacity to sound completely genuine. "Thanks for coming to me though. I had a nice time. I really think you're on your way."
;;
For a guy who's recently gotten laid, Joe feels sort of frustrated when he goes to rehearsal next. Patrick asks him if it's just one of those days during a water break, if his head's just not in it, and Joe nods, but then he opens his mouth to speak and realizes he's sulking because William Beckett wouldn't fuck him. That -- if that's not the lamest reason he's ever been bummed out, then it's at least competing for the title. Moreover, Joe has no idea how he's supposed to tell Patrick that that's why his lame ass has moped through half their songs today, and so he sticks to silent agreement.
He nods, thinks about it, and then says, somewhat honest, "No, like. Exploring gay sex is hard."
Patrick shifts and starts to nods as well, sympathetic, but then stops and raises his head. He says, "Hold on, I thought. I thought you already -- Is this still about Brendon or Ryan, or. Whatever?"
"Oh, no," Joe says.
"No," Patrick echoes. He presses the buttons on a soda machine, knuckling them idly. "Um. What happened with that? I thought you said you did it. With them. Back in LA. "
Joe shakes his head. "Not really. It's complicated."
"Cartoons?"
"Yeah," Joe says, chuckling. "Sort of. Dude, you don't have to talk about it with me. I mean, that's cool, but I know -- "
"Well, I'm just," Patrick says, shrugging and fixing his hat. He pulls up on the brim. "Andy was saying that -- I don't mind -- "
"Joe!" Pete calls. He chooses that moment to run up and tell Joe that he has a present for him. He pins a bright pink button on Joe's t-shirt that proclaims "It's my first time!" in bold white letters. It's kind of big.
Pete says, "I thought of you when I saw it."
Joe laughs. He tugs at the shirt, angling it so that he can see the button. "Thanks, Pete."
"Yeah, definitely," he says. "I tried to find one that said 'At gay sex!' or something close to complete the message, you know? But they don't sell it! Can you believe that? I'm gonna try Ebay."
"Or we could just make it," Andy offers, walking up them.
"Oh, fuck, yeah. That's what I'll do," Pete says. "I'll put illustrations on it, too. Accurate depictions of assfucking."
"On one button?" Patrick asks, smirking.
Pete bounces on the balls of his feet, laughing, and says, "Fuck, I'm excited now. Come on, break's over. Let's finish. I've got to make it to the arts and crafts store before it closes."
;;
Upon speaking to Gabe once again, Joe says simply, "Two strikes, dude. What kind of gay sex guru are you?"
Joe's beginning to lose faith in the guy. Gabe says, "Fuck you, I still maintain that the first one wasn't my fault. You choked."
"Okay, fine," Joe concedes. "But William -- William didn't reciprocate. That sucks."
"How was I supposed to know the guy would be full of loyalty to some kind of mission?" Gabe says. "You people are too complicated for me. This should be easy. In my day, all you had to do was find a dude, ask him politely, and then bend over or bend him over. Kids these days and their fucking etiquette. You have to go on quests -- "
"You're not even thirty, Gabe."
"You're missing the point, dude," Gabe says, snorting. "At most, all anybody had to do was a buy a guy a drink, get him -- oh. Oh, Joe."
"No."
"What the fuck? Beggars can't be choosers, Trohman. Listen." Gabe's advice -- Gabe's honest advice for Joe is to pick somebody and make sure they get wasted. He says, "Or high. As a matter of fact, that's quicker."
Joe feels like they're just reaching now. Maybe he should just give it up. Getting someone drunk? That sounds kind of fucked up.
"Man, whatever," Gabe says. "Any dude that against the idea isn't going to magically change his mind just because he's got a little JD in his system."
"Uh huh," Joe says. It still sounds sketchy to him. He's pretty sure he's done with letting Gabe give him advice on how to achieve this goal. "How many people have you gotten -- "
"Please, dude," Gabe interrupts, and he yawns. "You wish I was ever that hard up. Inebriation is just the icing on the cake for me and mine. Although, one of the first times I hung out with Alex, we -- "
"I don't want to know," Joe says quickly.
"You're right, you're right. A story for another time," he says. "Okay, I have some, uh, important business to attend to, but you -- your time is now, dude."
"What?" Joe asks.
"I don't know, man, that kind of shit works for Bill. I thought I'd try it."
;;
The worst thing about it is that Gabe's right. Joe doesn't go looking to get anybody stupid drunk or anything. It's just a regular night for Travis, but still.
His band has some time off, and he's spent the day with Patrick, him and Matt following Patrick from record store to record store. Joe meets them back at Patrick's apartment, and he and Travis take a walk around the neighborhood, Dixie cups in hand and sharing joints Travis managed to roll in the car on the way to the building.
They're catching each other up on things, covering various subjects at random, and Joe spills about his adventures as a man with a brand new interest in the wonders of cock. Travis is so stoned that he laughs the whole time, not mocking but still endlessly amused.
Joe finishes telling him about William, frowning at the joint between his fingers, and says, "But you know how he is. Whatever, at least I can cross gay topping off the list."
"Gay toppings, man?" Travis asks, shoulders bouncing lightly. "Are you making a pizza?"
It's hardly even a joke, but Joe laughs anyway, because, God, his life has been extraordinarily ridiculous the past few weeks. He's got a list. It isn't just a mental memo. Joe has a real, tangible list scrawled on the back of a Taco Bell receipt titled Non-Straight Activities For Dudes Seeking Dudes that he made and keeps track of just because he had a dream that some glittering pixie thing told him, hey, gay sex might be fun. And, okay, it has been mostly good so far, but Joe feels a little silly explaining it to people over and over. They laugh, and it is admittedly kind of hilarious, but it's not -- he's not kidding, so --
"I wish it was that simple," Joe says, smirking, and he realizes how stoned he is when he hears a car and tries to turn to see it but has to blink away dizziness. He's more than a little disoriented. "How to become homosexually enlightened in five easy steps."
Travis laughs. "Only five?"
"Well," Joe says, and he tries to count on his fingers. "Maybe more."
When they're out of weed, Travis says he can roll another, but he left his eighth in the car. They fumble their way upstairs to fetch the keys to Matt's rental, Matt and Patrick flipping channels and talking about blisters or something -- calluses. Joe doesn't notice that he's frowning until Patrick smiles at him, bemused, and clues Joe in that Matt's talking about drumming.
"You're that high?" Patrick asks, and he leans sideways to clip Joe's hip affectionately.
"Man," Joe sighs. He rubs his hand over his face and shakes his head, trying to clear it. "I guess? Wow."
"We found a new go-to guy out here," Matt says, casually. "Really good."
Travis comes out of the kitchen with the keys in his hand then, and that's the part where things get complicated. They smoke with the windows down. Hotboxing is great, but not where they have to return the merchandise. It's a roomy SUV, comfortable, and it's when Travis says, exhaling smoke, "Yo, now that I think about it, I do remember Bill talking about cosmic destiny or some shit," that Joe thinks he might be able to stretch out across the backseat without too much trouble even. He's isn't that tall.
"That's what Gabe said," Joe says, turning around to really get an idea how much room there might be. Maybe if they pushed the seats forward. He twists in his chair.
Travis holds out the joint for him, saying, "I think I just thought he was drunk. I mean, I'm pretty sure he was, anyway. I definitely was. All I really heard was the part about sucking my dick. What are you doing?"
"I'm --" Joe says and pauses. Huh. Blowjobs. He files that one away under Worthwhile Endeavor. "Do you think we could both fit in the back?"
"Uhm," Travis says, and then, "Oh! Oh. Joe, I have long legs, man."
;;
Pro: With enough determination and maneuvering, a 2007 Range Rover is an ideal and surprisingly accommodating location for enjoying oral sex and then reciprocating. Spacious, private, and complete with that new car smell.
Con: While Joe can now cross "mouth hugs" off his list, Travis won't fuck him. That has little to do with the car and is probably more the fault of how high they are. They can't figure out a way to get Joe's legs around Travis's easily, and then it just doesn't feel worth it somehow.
"We should go back upstairs," Travis says, tugging down Joe's shirt for him. "Sorry."
"It's cool," Joe says. There are probably worse things than being stuck as the little ass-virgin that could. "Thanks."
Matt and Patrick are watching a movie Joe doesn't recognize when they get upstairs. He suddenly feels too tired to get himself together and hang out on the couch with them, so he calls out goodnight and heads to one of Patrick's two extra bedrooms. Before he passes out, he sends Gabe a text message that simply reads, "Fired," and tucks his hand behind his head, thankful that he at least doesn't have blue balls.
;;
Joe pads into Patrick's kitchen after noon the next day, Matt and Travis already gone, but Patrick's frying eggs for breakfast anyway. Joe's head feels cloudy. It isn't a pounding headache, but remnants of the night before stick to his brain. He tucks his hands in his back pockets and asks, suddenly, "Is there something wrong with my ass?"
Patrick glances over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. Still pushing around eggs with the spatula, he asks, "What, like -- is it still there?"
"Huh?" Joe asks. "I mean, yeah. Yeah, it's still there."
"Then I don't know what the problem is," Patrick says, smiling lightly.
Joe twists his mouth. He presses his lips together and tries to think of a way to say this that doesn't sound quite as tacky as, "Then why won't anybody give me dick?"
Patrick makes a sound that's somewhere between a snort and a gasp. It's the ugliest sound Joe has ever heard in his life, and he laughs, apologizing for catching Patrick off guard like that.
"Shut up. Grab some plates," Patrick says. He turns off the stove and divides the eggs evenly. He empties the pan, sets it back on the stove, and as he takes his plate from Joe, Patrick shrugs. "I -- did you really want an answer to that? I'm kind of at a loss, dude. They don't teach this one."
"Um, no. I'm just -- saying," Joe tells him. He's got some turmoil in his life. He has anal angst, but there really isn't anything Patrick can do about it.
Patrick nods, and they make their way to his living room. He doesn't have a table out here. All the best furniture is at his house in Chicago, so they sit on couch and prop their feet on his cheap, blue IKEA coffee table.
He says, "Well, hey, you can vent. I told you I don't mind."
"I don't know, dude. Are you sure?" Joe asks, but Patrick just repeats himself, so Joe fills him in using none too graphic details. He leaves out names other than Ryan and Brendon, because Patrick already knows about them.
Afterwards, Patrick swallows his last bite of food and says, "First, I think you should stop listening to Gabe."
"Oh, I have. He means well --"
" -- but, yeah," Patrick finishes, nodding. "And it doesn't sound like there's, you know. I don't think there's anything wrong with you or... your ass."
"Thanks," Joe says, chuckling, because Patrick is maybe the only person he knows who could say that sentence and make it seem reassuring rather than extremely stupid. Not that it isn't a little stupid anyway, on principle. Nevertheless, Joe feels less frustrated. He would still like some gay sex where he bottoms, though, but there's only one way to fix that.
He follows Patrick to the kitchen and dries the plates and pan as Patrick washes them. He tells Patrick that he does honestly like this day a lot more suddenly, partly because he's got a full belly, but even that's Patrick's doing. They don't have to go to rehearsal until sometime in the evening today. It's just a short session, so Joe thinks he might stick around and occupy Patrick's space for a while. Lounge on his couch, eat his Oreos.
"You're probably excited," Joe says.
"Honored," Patrick says.
"Dude, I know. That's a whole bunch of extra me. That's exciting."
Patrick lifts his head when he laughs, turning off the water, and Joe gets him lower than he intends when he tries to smack a kiss to Patrick's face. Joe's hardly taller than Patrick, making it easy to catch the corner of his mouth next, to slide the extra couple centimeters and settle firmly in that place just past carried away. Patrick doesn't open his mouth wide, but he does open, their lips brushing dry and soft. He isn't wearing anything on his head, still in sleep clothes, worn and comfortable, and Joe encourages him to turn as he touches Patrick's face, his neck, so that they face one another completely.
Patrick's fingers are still wet, clenched loosely in Joe's own t-shirt, but Joe doesn't mind it. He's preoccupied with the unexpected warmth blooming in his stomach when he tries to pull back and Patrick rocks up to the balls of his feet, following, not allowing any gap.
"Wow," Joe breathes when they do get air. He hears Patrick's heels thump dully as he sinks into the floor again, and he wipes a hand across his eyes. When Joe glances down, he can see the damp blotches in his shirt, evidence of Patrick's touch. "This isn't because -- "
"No, no," Patrick says. He knocks his knuckles against Joe's chest lightly, reflexively, as if trying to quiet Joe, because, "That's not -- I don't know how to say it so that it doesn't sound lame, dude, so don't make me, but no. It's not that."
Joe nods. He says, "Okay," and waits, staring at Patrick's fingers curling against him, then says, "So. So, again?"
"Yeah," Patrick whispers, and he kisses Joe this time, more forceful but still sweeter than Joe would have guessed.
He's losing himself in it, kissing Patrick and touching his waist now, bumping their bodies closer until something occurs to him and he jolts back. He asks, startled, "Wait, what about Pete?"
"Um? What about -- "
Joe shakes his head. "The contract thing? I thought you liked girls, Patrick, and then Pete said -- "
Patrick laughs, maybe even a little derisively, and says, "That? That was years ago, Joe, come on. And it was a joke."
Um. Okay, whatever. Joe clearly doesn't know as much about Patrick as he thought, but that's fine. This is definitely alright with him. He says, "Right, okay. Alright," and then moves to lean in again but stops. "Hold on. Patrick, are you trying to deflower me?"
Patrick chuckles, smiles.
"That's kind of dirty, dude," Joe says. "I'm surprised."
Patrick glances away, biting his lip. When he turns back, his expression has darkened slightly, and he says, just casually enough to make Joe's stomach twist, "Joe, I have three bedrooms. Pick one," and, really, Joe can't throw out an answer fast enough.
;;
An indeterminable amount of time later, Joe rolls over on the mattress and relishes Nirvana.
He still believes in magic fairies.
;;
At rehearsal that evening, Pete practically sprints over when Joe and Patrick come through the door, brandishing a button that is aggressively orange and offensive even from a distance. He's saying something as well but stops dead when he notices Patrick and Joe's clasped hands.
"Dude!" he shouts, "You won't believe how many tries it took for -- what the shit is this?"
Joe pinches the button from Pete's fingers and holds up in front of his shirt, turning to the mirror to see it. It's fucking hideous. Yellow glitter was obviously involved in its creation.
"My first time," Joe says, smiling at his reflection.
"You and," Pete says, and then his mouth drops wide as he looks to, "PATRICK."
"What's going on?" Andy calls from across the room.
"Patrick, we had an agreement," Pete says, and then to Joe, "And you helped me type it up! That's so low, you guys."
"I told you," Joe says to Patrick.
Patrick rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He says, "I never signed that contract, Pete."
"Whatever, I like. I forged it," he says, sheepishly. Pete shrugs, going from indignant to shamefaced.
"You did what?"
"What, I was gonna tell you!" he says. "I swear. Anyway, that's not what we're focusing on here. The point is you two suck."
Joe smirks. He says, "Well, if you want to get technical, that's not -- "
"Trohman!" Pete interjects, and he snatches the button out of his hands and tucks it in his back pocket. "Give me that back. You don't deserve it, you filthy traitor. I hope you're both happy with yourselves."
Joe smiles, Patrick's hand warm in his, and he nods for Pete.
It's true. He is.