'Because the Night' [Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz]
Title: 'Because the Night'
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: Fall Out Boy
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Profanity, slight innuendo
Pairing: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Word Count: ~1,700
Summary: “Well, this is gay.”
Disclaimer: I don't own Patrick, Pete does ;)
Author's Notes: This was originally called "Plain Truth" and then I realized that was a really crappy title. The new title is from this really awesome song. Ch-ch-check it outtt.
---<---<---@
“Patrick?” comes Pete’s voice from the other side of the tour bus.
Patrick opens one eye. “…Yeah?” he replies cautiously.
“Hold me.”
Patrick sighs. He reminds himself that Pete is trying to sound heart-rendingly pathetic on purpose (Pete’s good at it - he’s had a lot of practice). He reminds himself that at times like these, Pete looks at him in terms of body-heat and nothing more (it’s impersonal, Patrick, so brutally impersonal). He reminds himself that Pete is older than he is, that Pete has been alive for over a quarter of a century, that Pete should have got over the fear of sleeping alone by now (but he hasn’t, Patrick, he needs you).
“I’m sleeping.”
“Correction - you were sleeping. Now you’re awake and talking to me.”
It is pitch-black, but Patrick still swears he can see Pete’s shit-eating grin all the way from here. He rolls his eyes at the ceiling but stays silent.
“Please, dude. See, I’m saying please, I’m asking nicely. Get over here.”
“I’m not moving, asshole,” Patrick growls, his voice deeper than he’d intended. “I’m warm.”
There is a pause, and maybe, just maybe he finally got through to Pete, maybe -
“I’ll come to you then.”
And for a brief second Patrick is proud of himself because he feels like he eked out some kind of compromise, and then he realizes that Pete is still getting everything he wanted and it really wasn’t even particularly warm in his bed in the first place.
“…Okay?” Pete questions. As if Patrick has a choice.
Patrick says nothing. He hears rustling, looks over and can vaguely make out a Pete-shaped silhouette sitting on the opposite bunk. Well, this is new. Usually Pete would be pressing up against him by now, and he would be holding his breath and clenching the muscles in his abs so Pete would find him more toned than he really was, and all the while he’d be trying to surreptitiously adjust his position, slowly turning himself over so his back was to Pete and Pete wouldn’t feel what he did to Patrick every time he got this close to him because they were best friends and Patrick developing these feelings, it just wasn’t supposed to happen.
“Okay?” Pete asks more insistently, and by now a note of fear has crept into his voice. The only thing Patrick can resist less than a pathetic Pete is a scared Pete, and Pete probably knows this but then again Patrick doesn’t usually let it get to this point, so maybe Pete doesn’t.
Patrick admits defeat.
“C’mere,” he says gruffly.
He hears what sounds terribly like a sigh of relief - but then again, he could just be projecting. The Pete-shaped silhouette shifts, rises, and melts into the darkness for a few moments. Patrick waits. Then…
“Hey,” comes the whisper, sudden and expected all at once, and shockingly close to Patrick’s left ear. Pete moves like a cat, and Patrick still hasn’t got used to it.
“Hey,” Patrick whispers back, still lying prone and staring at the ceiling.
“Dude, move over.”
Patrick rolls his eyes again, realizes the futility of carrying out this action in the dark, then slides to his right. Pete slips his slender body into the bunk and the part of the mattress to Patrick’s left barely goes down. Christ, Peter’s skinny, Patrick thinks to himself. He automatically sucks in his stomach and then moves to turn over because if he doesn’t, his face will be right next to Pete’s and he can deal with a lot of things but he can’t deal with that. Pete grabs his left shoulder to stop him, and he freezes.
“What?” he hisses in annoyance. “Pete, go to sleep.”
“I just wanna look at you,” Pete murmurs, sounding hurt. He is propping his chin up with the heel of his hand and the words are half mumbled into his palm. “You always turn away.”
“Well, this is gay.”
Silence. “…No it isn’t,” comes the eventual reply, and Pete sounds a lot more hurt this time - and a lot more unsure.
Patrick sighs. He decides to leave that issue alone, to bury it like always. “Besides, it’s dark - how can you look at me?”
Pete lets out a quiet chuckle, conceding the point. “I can kinda see your eyes.”
Patrick squeezes them shut. He supposes Pete really can see his eyes because Pete says “Dude, quit it,” and he’s sounding hurt again and oh, Patrick’s starting to feel really guilty and he can’t bring himself to turn away anymore and fuck.
“Pete, don’t do this,” he mutters, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.
“Why not?” Pete asks innocently.
“Because you’re just lonely.”
Pause.
“I’m not lonely, I’m with you.”
Patrick opens his mouth to retort, then closes it again. He doesn’t know what to say to that. A moment later, he feels Pete’s cold hand snaking across his stomach to rest at his right hip, only it doesn’t make any sense that Pete’s hand is cold because the points on his skin where Pete’s fingers touch turn to fire. Patrick swallows, and Pete tugs at his hip.
“Quit looking at the ceiling. Look at me, I’m much more interesting.”
Patrick curses Pete, curses himself, and then does so. Their eyes meet. Pete smiles. It’s soft and sweet and not at all like the one he gives the cameras.
“Hey.”
Patrick sighs unhappily. “Hey.”
“Dude, what was so hard about that?” There is a hint of amusement in Pete’s tone and Patrick doesn’t know which he wants more - to kiss Pete or punch him.
“Nothing.”
Pete curls against Patrick’s body, presses his head against Patrick’s chest, inhales. “You smell good, Stump.”
Patrick doesn’t know what to say to this either. Pete notices.
“Jesus, what do you think I’m gonna do to you?”
Patrick presses his lips together, then says, “Nothing, Pete. Go to sleep.”
Pete shifts against him. Sighs. A few seconds of silence pass, and then, “I can’t. You’re too tense.”
Patrick frowns. “Well then, I hate to state the obvious, but go back to your own bed.”
Pete props his head up again. His elbow is on the pillow and his arm is really, really near Patrick’s face, and honestly Patrick just wants the whole thing to stop.
“No,” Pete replies softly. “Because you really don’t want me here and I need to figure out why the fuck that is.”
Patrick just looks at him. He feels trapped.
“What did I do?” Pete asks quietly.
“Nothing,” Patrick exclaims in exasperation. “Not everything’s about you, Pete.”
“This is.”
“Shut up.” Patrick’s getting seriously pissed off, and Pete can tell. Pete also has no intention of kowtowing to this. He’s Pete Wentz, for fuck’s sake - that’s not one of the things he does.
“No,” Pete says challengingly.
“Just drop it.”
“No.”
“Fuck off.”
“No. Not until you tell me why you’re being like this.”
“It’s gay,” Patrick snaps.
Pete’s eyes widen and Patrick gets the feeling he’s said too much, even though it’s nothing he hasn’t said before.
“Oh my God,” Pete says, looking stunned. He smiles dazedly. “I… oh, wow.”
“What? Two guys spooning in a single fucking bunk bed and you’re just realizing this is a little fucking gay?!”
Pete’s smile is wider now. “That’s not gay. This is.” And he leans in towards Patrick, and he kisses him.
Patrick stops breathing. His insides turn to ice, and then fire, and then he’s melting against Pete’s body because suddenly just one molecule of air between them means they’re too far apart. Pete’s kissing him and kissing him, and his lips are burning but he doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to stop for anything in the world, because Pete’s lips are on his lips and Pete’s tongue is in his mouth and oh, God, Pete’s tongue is in his mouth, and it feels like the constructs of his whole entire world have fallen down and in a sense they have but he really doesn’t miss them.
When Pete finally pulls away, they’re both breathless and dizzy. Patrick’s lips are tingling and Pete’s cheeks are flushed. They look at each other.
“Jesus,” Patrick breathes. He can’t think of anything more to say because his brain cells are still trying to wrap themselves around the fact that he just kissed his best friend.
Pete swallows. “I know,” he says, then grins shakily. “See? That was gay.”
Patrick shakes his head in disbelief. “Yeah, that was pretty fucking gay.”
Pete’s hand is on Patrick’s hip and he slides it up along Patrick’s body until it comes to rest on the back of his neck. Pete’s looking at him and his eyes are full of warmth and a part of Patrick still can’t believe this is happening, but then Pete’s thumb rubs gently back and forth along his jaw line and he knows it is. It’s something he’s wanted for such a very long time and it’s happened and it’s amazing, and he opens his mouth to tell Pete as much but just as he does something passes across Pete’s face.
“’Trick,” Pete begins, and his expression is solemn so Patrick doesn’t say anything, just nods. “Are you okay with that?”
“With what?”
Pete blinks. “…It being gay.”
Patrick reaches over and puts his arm around Pete’s waist. “Normally I don’t know if I would be, but Pete… it’s with you.”
Pete smiles cocky. “Yeah, I am pretty fucking special.”
Patrick swipes at Pete’s hair. “You’re an arrogant bastard, is what you are, but I love you anyway.”
And he’s told Pete he loves him on so many occasions before, but this time it’s different and they both know it. Pete’s smug grin fades and he regards Patrick seriously.
“I love you too, dude. I always have. Ever since I met you, or really fucking soon after that.” He shakes his head. “All those times I put my arm around you, kissed you on the cheek, made dirty jokes about us, you couldn’t tell?”
Patrick gives him a Look, and he laughs.
“OK, yeah, I suppose I do kinda do that to everybody. But you… God, I’m amazed this even happened.” He laughs again. “You act so straight.”
Patrick breaks eye contact for a second and looks down at the sheets. “I’m not gay,” he says quietly, and they can both hear the unspoken “but” at the end of his sentence.
Pete smiles at him, tips his chin up to reaffirm eye contact, then kisses him again. “You are for me,” he whispers.
And Patrick doesn’t contradict him.
---<---<---@
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: Fall Out Boy
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Profanity, slight innuendo
Pairing: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Word Count: ~1,700
Summary: “Well, this is gay.”
Disclaimer: I don't own Patrick, Pete does ;)
Author's Notes: This was originally called "Plain Truth" and then I realized that was a really crappy title. The new title is from this really awesome song. Ch-ch-check it outtt.
---<---<---@
“Patrick?” comes Pete’s voice from the other side of the tour bus.
Patrick opens one eye. “…Yeah?” he replies cautiously.
“Hold me.”
Patrick sighs. He reminds himself that Pete is trying to sound heart-rendingly pathetic on purpose (Pete’s good at it - he’s had a lot of practice). He reminds himself that at times like these, Pete looks at him in terms of body-heat and nothing more (it’s impersonal, Patrick, so brutally impersonal). He reminds himself that Pete is older than he is, that Pete has been alive for over a quarter of a century, that Pete should have got over the fear of sleeping alone by now (but he hasn’t, Patrick, he needs you).
“I’m sleeping.”
“Correction - you were sleeping. Now you’re awake and talking to me.”
It is pitch-black, but Patrick still swears he can see Pete’s shit-eating grin all the way from here. He rolls his eyes at the ceiling but stays silent.
“Please, dude. See, I’m saying please, I’m asking nicely. Get over here.”
“I’m not moving, asshole,” Patrick growls, his voice deeper than he’d intended. “I’m warm.”
There is a pause, and maybe, just maybe he finally got through to Pete, maybe -
“I’ll come to you then.”
And for a brief second Patrick is proud of himself because he feels like he eked out some kind of compromise, and then he realizes that Pete is still getting everything he wanted and it really wasn’t even particularly warm in his bed in the first place.
“…Okay?” Pete questions. As if Patrick has a choice.
Patrick says nothing. He hears rustling, looks over and can vaguely make out a Pete-shaped silhouette sitting on the opposite bunk. Well, this is new. Usually Pete would be pressing up against him by now, and he would be holding his breath and clenching the muscles in his abs so Pete would find him more toned than he really was, and all the while he’d be trying to surreptitiously adjust his position, slowly turning himself over so his back was to Pete and Pete wouldn’t feel what he did to Patrick every time he got this close to him because they were best friends and Patrick developing these feelings, it just wasn’t supposed to happen.
“Okay?” Pete asks more insistently, and by now a note of fear has crept into his voice. The only thing Patrick can resist less than a pathetic Pete is a scared Pete, and Pete probably knows this but then again Patrick doesn’t usually let it get to this point, so maybe Pete doesn’t.
Patrick admits defeat.
“C’mere,” he says gruffly.
He hears what sounds terribly like a sigh of relief - but then again, he could just be projecting. The Pete-shaped silhouette shifts, rises, and melts into the darkness for a few moments. Patrick waits. Then…
“Hey,” comes the whisper, sudden and expected all at once, and shockingly close to Patrick’s left ear. Pete moves like a cat, and Patrick still hasn’t got used to it.
“Hey,” Patrick whispers back, still lying prone and staring at the ceiling.
“Dude, move over.”
Patrick rolls his eyes again, realizes the futility of carrying out this action in the dark, then slides to his right. Pete slips his slender body into the bunk and the part of the mattress to Patrick’s left barely goes down. Christ, Peter’s skinny, Patrick thinks to himself. He automatically sucks in his stomach and then moves to turn over because if he doesn’t, his face will be right next to Pete’s and he can deal with a lot of things but he can’t deal with that. Pete grabs his left shoulder to stop him, and he freezes.
“What?” he hisses in annoyance. “Pete, go to sleep.”
“I just wanna look at you,” Pete murmurs, sounding hurt. He is propping his chin up with the heel of his hand and the words are half mumbled into his palm. “You always turn away.”
“Well, this is gay.”
Silence. “…No it isn’t,” comes the eventual reply, and Pete sounds a lot more hurt this time - and a lot more unsure.
Patrick sighs. He decides to leave that issue alone, to bury it like always. “Besides, it’s dark - how can you look at me?”
Pete lets out a quiet chuckle, conceding the point. “I can kinda see your eyes.”
Patrick squeezes them shut. He supposes Pete really can see his eyes because Pete says “Dude, quit it,” and he’s sounding hurt again and oh, Patrick’s starting to feel really guilty and he can’t bring himself to turn away anymore and fuck.
“Pete, don’t do this,” he mutters, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.
“Why not?” Pete asks innocently.
“Because you’re just lonely.”
Pause.
“I’m not lonely, I’m with you.”
Patrick opens his mouth to retort, then closes it again. He doesn’t know what to say to that. A moment later, he feels Pete’s cold hand snaking across his stomach to rest at his right hip, only it doesn’t make any sense that Pete’s hand is cold because the points on his skin where Pete’s fingers touch turn to fire. Patrick swallows, and Pete tugs at his hip.
“Quit looking at the ceiling. Look at me, I’m much more interesting.”
Patrick curses Pete, curses himself, and then does so. Their eyes meet. Pete smiles. It’s soft and sweet and not at all like the one he gives the cameras.
“Hey.”
Patrick sighs unhappily. “Hey.”
“Dude, what was so hard about that?” There is a hint of amusement in Pete’s tone and Patrick doesn’t know which he wants more - to kiss Pete or punch him.
“Nothing.”
Pete curls against Patrick’s body, presses his head against Patrick’s chest, inhales. “You smell good, Stump.”
Patrick doesn’t know what to say to this either. Pete notices.
“Jesus, what do you think I’m gonna do to you?”
Patrick presses his lips together, then says, “Nothing, Pete. Go to sleep.”
Pete shifts against him. Sighs. A few seconds of silence pass, and then, “I can’t. You’re too tense.”
Patrick frowns. “Well then, I hate to state the obvious, but go back to your own bed.”
Pete props his head up again. His elbow is on the pillow and his arm is really, really near Patrick’s face, and honestly Patrick just wants the whole thing to stop.
“No,” Pete replies softly. “Because you really don’t want me here and I need to figure out why the fuck that is.”
Patrick just looks at him. He feels trapped.
“What did I do?” Pete asks quietly.
“Nothing,” Patrick exclaims in exasperation. “Not everything’s about you, Pete.”
“This is.”
“Shut up.” Patrick’s getting seriously pissed off, and Pete can tell. Pete also has no intention of kowtowing to this. He’s Pete Wentz, for fuck’s sake - that’s not one of the things he does.
“No,” Pete says challengingly.
“Just drop it.”
“No.”
“Fuck off.”
“No. Not until you tell me why you’re being like this.”
“It’s gay,” Patrick snaps.
Pete’s eyes widen and Patrick gets the feeling he’s said too much, even though it’s nothing he hasn’t said before.
“Oh my God,” Pete says, looking stunned. He smiles dazedly. “I… oh, wow.”
“What? Two guys spooning in a single fucking bunk bed and you’re just realizing this is a little fucking gay?!”
Pete’s smile is wider now. “That’s not gay. This is.” And he leans in towards Patrick, and he kisses him.
Patrick stops breathing. His insides turn to ice, and then fire, and then he’s melting against Pete’s body because suddenly just one molecule of air between them means they’re too far apart. Pete’s kissing him and kissing him, and his lips are burning but he doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to stop for anything in the world, because Pete’s lips are on his lips and Pete’s tongue is in his mouth and oh, God, Pete’s tongue is in his mouth, and it feels like the constructs of his whole entire world have fallen down and in a sense they have but he really doesn’t miss them.
When Pete finally pulls away, they’re both breathless and dizzy. Patrick’s lips are tingling and Pete’s cheeks are flushed. They look at each other.
“Jesus,” Patrick breathes. He can’t think of anything more to say because his brain cells are still trying to wrap themselves around the fact that he just kissed his best friend.
Pete swallows. “I know,” he says, then grins shakily. “See? That was gay.”
Patrick shakes his head in disbelief. “Yeah, that was pretty fucking gay.”
Pete’s hand is on Patrick’s hip and he slides it up along Patrick’s body until it comes to rest on the back of his neck. Pete’s looking at him and his eyes are full of warmth and a part of Patrick still can’t believe this is happening, but then Pete’s thumb rubs gently back and forth along his jaw line and he knows it is. It’s something he’s wanted for such a very long time and it’s happened and it’s amazing, and he opens his mouth to tell Pete as much but just as he does something passes across Pete’s face.
“’Trick,” Pete begins, and his expression is solemn so Patrick doesn’t say anything, just nods. “Are you okay with that?”
“With what?”
Pete blinks. “…It being gay.”
Patrick reaches over and puts his arm around Pete’s waist. “Normally I don’t know if I would be, but Pete… it’s with you.”
Pete smiles cocky. “Yeah, I am pretty fucking special.”
Patrick swipes at Pete’s hair. “You’re an arrogant bastard, is what you are, but I love you anyway.”
And he’s told Pete he loves him on so many occasions before, but this time it’s different and they both know it. Pete’s smug grin fades and he regards Patrick seriously.
“I love you too, dude. I always have. Ever since I met you, or really fucking soon after that.” He shakes his head. “All those times I put my arm around you, kissed you on the cheek, made dirty jokes about us, you couldn’t tell?”
Patrick gives him a Look, and he laughs.
“OK, yeah, I suppose I do kinda do that to everybody. But you… God, I’m amazed this even happened.” He laughs again. “You act so straight.”
Patrick breaks eye contact for a second and looks down at the sheets. “I’m not gay,” he says quietly, and they can both hear the unspoken “but” at the end of his sentence.
Pete smiles at him, tips his chin up to reaffirm eye contact, then kisses him again. “You are for me,” he whispers.
And Patrick doesn’t contradict him.
---<---<---@