Basically Pete almost dies, and Patrick comes to see him in the hospital. Slight angst and a whooollee lotta fluff
Thank you once more to @rosecolouredgorl for helping me a TON with this one.
TW: violence, death m (he doesn’t die i promise), food m, needles, hospitals, ask to tag
AN: I’m posting this on AO3 as well :)
Pete gasped, holding his hand up to the knife wound in his side. His attacker had run off down the alley, pushing past a woman that was now calling the police. He glanced at her before falling back, his head hitting the pavement hard. Through the throbbing in his head, he faintly remembered something about leaving knives in you rather than pulling them out; something to do with bleeding to death faster? Pete didn't really remember, but he couldn't care; it was getting harder and harder to breathe.
Pete groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to ignore the pain. He’d worked so hard today, staying in the studio until dark, and now he was lying on the ground in an alley. Their album was almost finished; Pete really hoped he would have got to see it completed.
With shaking hands Pete reached into his pocket and fished out his phone, dialing Patrick's number immediately. He wasn’t really sure why at first; if anything he should call his mom, or his brother, or maybe a damn ambulance. As soon as it started to ring, though, he felt instantly calmer. Patrick made him feel safe, he always had, and, if nothing else right now, Pete needed something comforting.
Pete breathed deeply, trying to sound normal.
"Hello?" Patrick's voice was so beautiful on the other end of the line; he sounded sleepy, like he always was after recording.
"Hey Tricky, what are you up to?"
"I made tea before bed, why? What's up Wentz?"
Pete stared up at the sky, watching the clouds slowly move away to reveal the stars. It was gorgeous, and helped to soothe him even more. “Just wanted to hear your voice, I guess,” he said, softer than before.
Patrick laughed, and Pete felt his heart stutter, but that could have been the fact that he was slowly bleeding to death. "Pete, you listened to my voice all day man. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine Rick, don't worry," Pete hesitated, before speaking quietly. "Patrick, you know I love you, right? Like.. You're my best friend in the entire world." He could feel Patrick's frown through the phone, and hoped he wasn't worrying him too much.
"Yeah, and I love you too, dumbass. Pete.. Is something wrong? Do you need me to come get you..?"
Pete shook his head despite the fact that his friend couldn't see him. "Nah, it's okay, really. Just.. Wanted to remind you."
Patrick hummed, and Pete shivered. His vision was getting weird, and he knew he had to hurry before he ran out of time. "Patrick.. I-I love you a lot, okay? Like.. Just always know that, okay? I'm not making much sense, I know, but when do I ever right? Just.. Yeah,” he chuckled breathlessly, wincing at how his laughter made the pain in his side so much worse.
"I love you too Pete. You're okay, really. Just.. Tell me if something's wrong, okay?"
Pete smiled. Patrick cared about him, he always had honestly. Patrick was there with him through everything, and even if he didn’t realize it, he was helping him now, too. Patrick loved him, in his own way, and even though Pete longed for him to feel the same love he did, for now, the thought that he mattered to Patrick Stump at all was enough.
"I gotta go, Trick. I hope you have a good night," he said softly, tilting away from the phone to gasp and spit out blood.
"Goodnight Petey, talk to you later."
Pete dropped the phone, his breaths coming out harder. He faintly heard the sound of a siren, but he doubt they would make it in time. He closed his eyes, trying to pull up a memory to make this hurt less.
As Pete felt his fingers start to numb, he thought back to one of their first hotel nights that Patrick and him had shared a bed. Patrick was shy at first, of course, bitching whenever Pete made a stupid joke. By the third Star Wars movie, however, he was sitting right beside Pete, their knees touching. Pete coughed again, groaning as his chest started to go numb as well, and desperately clung on to that memory. Patrick went to bed first, watching anxiously as Pete got ready for bed. He knew it would make him uncomfortable if he took his shirt off, so that’s exactly what Pete did before turning off the bedside lamp and crawling in beside Patrick. He kept his distance, at first, but little by little Patrick scooted closer, until his arms slowly started to wrap against Pete’s torso. He felt Patrick press his nose against his shoulder blade, and had to bite his lip to stop smiling. As Pete slowly started to fall asleep, both then and now, he could feel Patrick’s warm breath when he whispered, “Goodnight, Pete.”
Pete didn’t know when he started to be able to feel things again. It started slowly, with his toes suddenly coming back into existence. Pete tried to wiggle them, to regain feeling in his legs, but it was like a fog was pressing him down, keeping his whole body in the dark. The next time he felt something, it was a hand against his arm. The fingers were cold and unknown, and then suddenly there was a stabbing sensation. Vaguely, he registered it as a needle. Pete tried to move, to get the attention of whoever was prodding him, but he didn’t seem to be able to. After a moment, the fingers disappeared, and took the touch with it.
The final time Pete started to feel something, it was his head. It started throbbing, a strange ache just behind his eyes. He tried to move them, to turn his head to make the pain go away, and then suddenly his body was back. Pete’s eyes flew open, and he gasped as he suddenly was able to take in his surroundings.
The hospital room was the stereotypical bright white and green, with a few chairs in the corners. There were flowers on every table he could see, and a few on the floor underneath the T.V. The floor itself was tile, and smelled faintly of bleach even from here. The bed Pete was currently occupying was stiff and uncomfortable, similar to how he felt.
Pete strained to turn his head, his eyes raking over the tubes attached to his arm. A needle was taped to his arm, and he tried to lift it once before giving up. He felt tired, his throat was dry, and everything ached in a peculiar way. The door opened suddenly, and Pete slowly turned his head to watch a nurse walked in, followed by someone familiar.
He vaguely registered the nurse changing IV bags, telling him that the doctor would be in soon to check on him. Patrick was staring at him, wide eyed, not moving from his spot by the door. Pete's stomach twisted at the few tears that fell down his cheeks. The nurse left quickly, shutting the door behind her, and Patrick slowly walked forward. His eyes never left Pete’s as he carefully sat down in the chair beside his bed.
Pete stared at him, thinking that he looked so much like an angel. He was without his hat but was wearing his glasses, his hoodie zipped up tight. There were a few rain drops in his hair, and Pete wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through it.
Instead, he shakily reached for Patrick's hand, attempting to smile at him. "Y'know, they should've given you a sexy nurse costume whenever you came in. I might get better faster."
Patrick laughed, more tears falling from his eyes. "You almost fucking died, and you still... Fuck, Wentz, what am I gonna do with you?"
Pete laughed, trying to cover his anxiousness. He almost died? ...Everyone must have been so worried, especially Patrick. “I have some ideas, Rickster.” Joking seemed the best way to go, he thought. Making Patrick laugh seemed like the point of his entire existence, anyway. Well, aside from pissing him off too, but that wasn’t relevant at the time.
Patrick shook his head, but scooted closer, running his cold fingers through Pete's hair. "Petey.. You almost died," he said softly, blue eyes staring into Pete's brown ones.
Pete nodded," Yeah.. How long have I been here?"
"Almost four days man.. You scared the hell out of us, Pete."
The bassist nodded, lacing his fingers through Patrick's. "Sorry," he whispered. Pete was stupid, so fucking stupid. If he’d just called the ambulance instead, had gotten it there sooner...
Patrick shook his head, leaning forward to wrap his arms loosely around Peter's shoulders. Pete could feel tears soaking through his hospital gown, and Patrick's warm breath on his neck.
Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick's middle, pressing his lips to his hair. "It's okay, Tricky it's alright. I'm right here, Trick." He silently willed the fear to leave Patrick’s mind, as if that would help. Pete had caused him enough worrying for a lifetime, no doubt, and he wanted that worry to end as soon as humanly possible.
The singer nodded, pulling back to take a shaky breath. He met Pete's eyes with a watery smile. "That's.. That's why you called me, huh?"
Pete nodded, smiling sheepishly. "I.. I didn't want to worry you," Patrick laughed, cupping Pete's face with his hand, "but.. I had to tell you.. I.. I needed you to know, Trick. I didn't.." Pete huffed in frustration, looking down. "I couldn't.. Patrick, I had to make sure you knew that you mean the world to me.. I was so sure I was gonna die, man, and I didn't..." Pete shook his head, feeling tears form in his own eyes. He almost died and scared the fuck out of Patrick, he couldn’t just drop his stupid 14-year-long crush on the poor guy too.
"Pete," Patrick breathed, warm breath washing over Pete's face. The bassist looked up, heart melting at the gorgeous blue eyes staring at him.
"I never," he swallowed, choking up, " Pete I never ever doubted that.. You.." Patrick shook his head, running his thumb over Pete's cheekbone.
Before either of them could speak, the door opened, and a man walked in. He was in a long white coat, looking down at the chart in his hands. Patrick hurried to move out of the way, standing awkwardly in the corner. His cheeks were a lighter shade of pink, making Pete smile slightly as he turned back to the doctor. He was an older black man, with kind dark eyes. He smiled at Pete, and spoke with a deep and warm voice. " Hello Mr.Wentz, I'm Doctor Peterson. It's good to see you with your eyes open, son. Do you remember what happened to you?"
Pete nodded, "I was walking home, and was jumped by some kid.. He pushed me into the alley, holding the knife to my neck, and asked for my wallet. After I gave it to him, along with my watch and necklace, he stabbed me." Pete frowned, glancing over at Patrick.
"Did they catch him?" he asked, watching as Patrick shook his head.
The doctor sighed, "Well, you weren't awake to give a statement. The girl that called the ambulance didn't see much of the kid, so if you feel up to it, I'm sure the police would like to hear from you."
Pete nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek. "I.. Can I talk to them tomorrow?"
The doctor nodded, smiling kindly at him. "You don't have to speak to anyone until you feel up to it, Peter. Now," he looked down at his chart again, "You suffered a pretty deep stab wound to your side, and it almost completely went through your liver, and caused a bit of internal bleeding. There was also a fairly deep gash on the back of your head, I figure that happened when you fell?. ” He said, smiling when Pete nodded.
“You should be discharged in a few days, as long as your improvement remains constant. However, " the doctor looked over at Patrick, his face changing from friendly to serious in seconds, "He can only have four visitors in the room at the time, and only one person after visiting hours are over. If you bring him food, then it needs to be somewhat light on his stomach."
Patrick nodded, eyes wide as he focused on every word the man said. Pete knew Patrick would be following every instruction as carefully as he could, bitching at anyone that tried to do something else.
The doctor turned back to Pete, warm smile present once more. "I'm sure you'll want some time to rest, so I'll let you be. I'll be back in a few hours to check on your monitors, but if you need me before then, press the call button." Doctor Peterson smiled at them both before leaving, closing the door quietly behind himself.
Pete leaned back and rested his head against the pillows, closing his eyes. He heard Patrick shuffle closer, taking his place in the chair beside the bed. "Your mom is in town. She stayed in the hospital for almost an entire week, but me and Andy managed to convince her to get a hotel. I left her a message, so she should be here first thing in the morning."
Pete nodded, opening his eyes to look up at Patrick. "Do you need to go home?"
The singer shook his head." I'm not leaving you, Petey." The bassist knew from experience that there was really no point in arguing with the younger boy. He nodded, smiling sheepishly up at him.
Patrick smiled at him, fingers lightly touching his face again. "Do you need anything?"
Pete shook his head, and Patrick nodded. For a moment, they sat in silence, staring at one another. It wasn’t uncomfortable, the way Patrick’s blue eyes seemed to scan Pete’s entire body before returning to his eyes. It gave Pete time to look at him anyway, and admiring Patrick was always a favorite pastime of his. He had just started counting the freckles on Patrick’s nose when the singer finally broke into a grin.
"Sleeping in that chair can't be comfortable," Pete said, watching as Patrick stood and shrugged off his hoodie. He was wearing one of Pete's Metallica t-shirts underneath, and Pete almost melted. He must have stolen that while they were on tour, he thought, warmth spreading slowly from his heart into the rest of his body.
"It's whatever. I am not getting a hotel, Pete."
Pete raised his hands in defense, smiling at Patrick. "I'm just saying, man, I'm not exactly a big guy. You could share the bed with me; it's not like we haven't slept together before."
Patrick rolled his eyes, "Of course you had to say it like that."
Grinning, Pete shifted closer to his monitors, making enough room for Patrick to slide into the bed beside him. The younger man took off his shoes and climbed into the bed. He carefully wrapped one arm around Pete's chest, resting his head on the other.
"Hey," Pete said quietly, his nose almost touching Patrick's.
"Hi," Patrick whispered.
As cliche as it was, the world slowed down. Pete wasn't focusing on anything but Patrick; the feel of the younger man against him, how warm and soft he was, how safe Pete felt with him.
Patrick carefully brushed his fingers over Pete's collarbone, exposed by the hospital gown. Pete shivered, brushing his fingers down the younger man's spine. He felt him shiver against his side, and Pete blushed when he heard the heart rate monitor speed up. Patrick smirked, his own cheeks turning pink despite it. "Pete... When... When you called me... Did.."
Patrick couldn't finish his sentence; he bit his lip, looking down at his hand on Pete's chest. The bassist grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers.
"If.. If you're asking what I think you are, then... Yeah. Yeah, Patrick, yes."
The singer bit his lip, looking up at Pete. He let go of Pete's hand and cupped Pete's face, shifting closer slightly. "Can I?" He breathed, so close that Pete could practically taste him.
The bassist didn't reply, only shifted forward, pressing his lips against Patrick's softly. For a moment, they stayed motionless, until Patrick opened his mouth the slightest bit. Pete pressed his tongue against his soft bottom lip, and both of them gasped as their kiss deepened. Patrick shivered and groaned, his lips wrapping around Pete's tongue.
The bassist shivered, breathing hard as he pulled away. Patrick stared at him, blue eyes glancing at the monitor behind him for a moment. He smiled sheepishly, shaking his head. "We should, um... We should probably save that for later, Pete, since your heart rate thingy is kind of losing its shit."
Pete laughed and nodded, shifting so that Patrick was pressed more tightly against his side. “You should sleep, Trick,” he said softly, kissing his nose. The singer hummed, curling closer to Pete. Patrick’s fingers gripped the fabric of his hospital gown loosely, tracing small circles over Pete’s heart with his fingertips.
“Love you,” Patrick whispered, sounding so sleepy already. Pete figured he’d stayed at the hospital for a while, refusing to leave. With a soft smile, he pressed his forehead against Patrick’s, and closed his eyes.
Frank talks to his best friend Jamia about his crush, and what ‘nonbinary’ means. -- basically fluffy nonbinary gerard and supportive frank feat. Jamia being an actual queen (i lov her)
Special Thanks to Madison ( @rosecolouredgorl ) , who was very kind and beta’d this fic for me! <3
TW: food m, ask to tag?
AN: Sorry for being gone for so long, I just recently got out for summer and those last few weeks of school were pretty rough. Thank you all for sticking with me <3 It means so much ((I know this blog is mainly Peterick but i like Frerard too ^^ Expect a healthy mix of both!))
Frank sighed again, dipping the brush back into the black nail polish. He was very carefully painting Jamia's nails, and she was going to do his once they were dry. They'd made it a habit to hang out as often as they could, usually on Sunday's. Frank had been friends with Jamia since they were little, and that friendship stayed strong even though they were both going to college.
"Okay, what's with the pitiful act Frankie? Are people bothering you again?"
Frank made a face, remembering all the times in highschool that Jamia had to pull him out of lockers. "No, nothing like that. I just.. okay." Frank sat up straighter, pulling his knees to his chest. Jamia listened with interest, not really caring that only half of her hand was painted.
"I.. I met this guy, in my biology class? He's a total dork, okay, like even more of a dork than me, and he's.. Oh my god Jamia he's so fucking pretty."
Jamia giggled, rolling her eyes, but encouraged Frank to continue.
"I'm pretty sure he's in to guys, too, I mean we talked about Rocky Horror in class and whether or not Morrissey or Bowie was more of a turn on - he's a total freak for Bowie, by the way."
Jamia frowned,"So what's the problem? Is he taken or something?" Frank shook his head.
"No, nothing like that, I just.. we've become pretty good friends I guess, and we were talking one day at this coffee shop, you know the one across from the library? And he.." Frank frowned, chewing lightly on his lip ring. "Jamia, do you know about nonbinary people?"
The girl blinked in surprise, but nodded. "Yeah, I've read about it, and I know a few people. Why, is he..?" Frank nodded.
"I.. I really like him, like really, he's..," frank sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "I just don't know what to do. I mean I.."
"Well, is it a problem for you that he's non binary?" Frank shook his head, biting down harder on his lip. "Do you like him any less since he told you?" Frank shook his head again, and Jamia shoved his shoulder.
"Well, dumbass, what's the hold up!"
"I don't know what to do! Like, am I supposed to treat him differently because of this, I.. I mean I've dated girls and guys before, and there was that one cute trans boy in my AP lit class, but..."
Jamia took Frank's hand comfortingly, squeezing his fingers. "Frankie, if you want to know what to do you need to ask him. If he needs you to do anything different, he'll let you know, okay? But I'm sure he wants you to support him, I mean he obviously trusts you. Be there for him."
Frank nodded, hugging his friend tightly in thanks before finishing her nails.
"Hey, G, wait up!" Frank jogged across the campus, waving at the boy that just turned around. Gerard's hair was a mess, as always, but he seemed in a good enough mood. There was a cup of coffee gripped tightly in one hand, his sketchbook in the other.
Gerard smiled,"Hey Frankie, what's up?"
Frank fidgeted, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. Even though he and Gerard had gotten close over the past five months, he didn’t want to ruin it all just cause he was an idiot. "I just.. can we talk?" Gerard frowned but nodded, following him to a spot on the main campus.
He sat down under the tree and looked up at Gerard, biting his lip ring. Gerard sat down, watching Frank questioningly. He seemed nervous, on edge, and Gerard immediately thought the worst. "Look man if you're gonna tell me you're, like, sick or something, I'm actually going to cry."
Frank snorted," I’m not ill, G, and you do know that I get sick like every other week right?" Gerard rolled his eyes but waited. Frank felt his eyes on him as he took a deep breath, refusing to meet his eyes as he started talking.
"Look, do you, um.. do you remember the conversation we had the other day, in the coffee shop? You, uh.. you told me you were nonbinary." Gerard nodded, his expression going blank. "Oh," he said softly, nodding. "I.. I didn't think that it.. It would bother you, I'm.. I.."
Frank gasped, grabbing Gerard's hand immediately. "Hey, no no no G, that's not what I meant at all oh my god dude. It doesn't bother me at all, I'm not an asshole man, I accept you completely." Gerard nodded, looking relieved, and squeezed Frank's fingers.
Frank looked sheepish now, his eyes trained on his shoes. "I just.. I had time to think about it, and come up with questions and stuff.. if it isn't, like, too personal or.. yeah." Gerard nodded, leaning back against the tree. Frank took a deep breath and began.
"So, lots of nonbinary people go by different pronouns and shit.. do you prefer something else, do I need to avoid certain words..?" Gerard shook his head.
"Nah, they or he is fine. I don't think I have any, like, trigger words or whatever. I'll let you know if something changes though Frankie." Frank nodded. "Okay, thanks man. Um.. do you want to wear different shit? Like, cause yknow sometimes we buy you shit, and I know you've been getting in to makeup a bit more.." He dropped his eyes when Gerard looked up at him, and started pulling up the grass around him, biting the inside of his cheek.
Gerard grinned,"I do like makeup a lot, yeah, but, um... Well, I dress differently sometimes." They cleared their throat, eyes looking down at the grass. "I've kinda done drag again lately?" Frank sucked in a breath, counting to ten in his head, and then to twenty, trying desperately not to picture his crush in heels and panties. It wasn't working too well.
"Oh," frank said quietly, feeling his own face heat up. "I, um.. i don't buy you panties till the second date, you know, so.." Gerard giggled, shaking his head.
"Frank if that was you asking me out, then yes, but I'll have you know I don't show you my panties till the third date anyway."
Frank smirked, continuing with his questioning. "So, you're not really.. you're not gonna change much, now that you're out, just be more.. yourself."
Gerard nodded," I’m not.. I’m not gonna be more masculine, cause I'm not really a guy, but I'm not gonna be too feminine either, cause I'm not a girl. I'm just.. Gerard. I have stupid hair and wear weird band shirts and heels sometimes, no big deal. Just your average, nonbinary, pansexual person."
Frank frowned. "Wait, what's pansexual again?"
"Pansexual is like, being attracted to a person regardless of their gender or lack of gender. So, like, I'll date boys or girls or trans people or nonbinary or genderfluid people.. i don't really care, as long as they're a good person, yknow?"
Frank nodded slowly, considering the word in his head. That.. seemed pretty great, actually.. Pansexual had an ‘I don’t give a fuck’ vibe about it that Frank could respect.
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
Gerard nodded, smiling at Frank for a moment before leaning forward.
“So.. So you were asking me out, right? Like, that wasn’t just me being presumptuous? “
“Yeah, dork, I was asking you out.” Frank rolled his eyes, shifting slightly so that he was closer to Gerard.
“Awesome,” Gerard hummed and leaned down so that their head was on Frank’s shoulder. “Y’know, I might make an exception. Like...Maybe I won’t wait for the third date for you, Frankie.”
Frank stiffened, looking down at Gerard with wide eyes. Giggling, Gerard pushed himself up off the ground, holding his hand out for Frank. “Come on, loser. I don’t have an afternoon class, so we can go back to yours and watch zombie movies. As long as you order take out, anyway.”
Frank grinned and took their hand, squeezing the charcoal-covered fingers. “Awesome.”
hey so im back for a little while, but its the end of the semester for me so things are ridiculously hectic, so i’m gonna be very very busy lately. i won’t have time to set up my queue like normal either, unfortunately :/
ive also been kinda doing badly again mentally too. nothing too bad, but nightmares are absolutely horrible and i would love to actually sleep for once.
anyway, once i’m out for summer I have a LOT planned. working on fics and stories and art and everything in between, its gonna be great! i’ve been working on fics off and on while i’ve been gone, too, as much as i can. I can’t wait for summer aaa <3
also, a lowkey announcement i guess? I despise my birth name for a number of reasons, and while i adore ghost as my nickname and will still use it, it would be rad if you could try calling me Lucas?? Idk if it’ll stick, i just.. yeah :/
tl;dr: school is shit, my life is lowkey hell, but its chill bc im a nerd. also, call me lucas if you don’t mind, and like this post if you’ve read this :)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Fall Out Boy
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Characters: Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - No Band, world jumping, Outlaws, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Anxiety Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, Panic Attacks, Overstimulation, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Adventure & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Old Friends, Angst and Hurt/Comfort
Summary:
Pete’s face was pressed into the grass wet with dew. Breathing in, he felt dirt coat his pores, blades of grass cut open his corneas, water drown him as his lungs contracted. Seconds later, he was sitting up and shaking. Every inch of him was vibrating as his kept running his hands down his face, again and again and again. Everything was too loud, too bright, too fast. It was as if someone had taken the world, placed it in Photoshop, and sharpened all of its edges until it was unrecognizable.
Pete and Patrick have just jumped into a new world, on the run from BiP. They have to find their purpose, as well as Joe and Andy, before it’s too late.
Soo I’ve been really inactive for a bit, and I want to apologize for that. If you want a longer explanation + what is possibly gonna happen this week, then it’s under the read more, but otherwise yeah. Sorry ^^”
R u ever gonna finish that high school teacher au?
I intend to! I have the next chapter as a draft, it’s just things are a little hectic right now between school and home. i won’t get in to my sob story, but i will try and work a bit harder on it! to be honest with you, i didn’t really think people cared.
thank you for the ask btw, this means a lot anon <3
hc that pete likes to call patrick 'sunshine' cause he gets all flustered and pete finds it adorable :>
YES awh I fully support this. Especially when Patrick has just woken up and he’s grumpy.
“Good morning sunshine!”
Patrick glared, wiping the sleep from his eyes before sitting on the couch in their tour bus. Pete was unphased, plopping beside him with a bowl of cereal in hand.
“Why do you do that?” Patrick asked suddenly. Pete turned from the tv to look over at him, putting his spoon down slowly.
“I’m confused… what do you mean?”
Patrick flushed, waving his hand. “You know, the calling me sunshine thing. The other two are sarcastic asses and call me that to be jerks, but you do it a lot… why?”
Pete shrugged, grinning,“Cause you’re my sunshine Rickster.” Without another word, Pete turned back to the television, giggling at something, but Patrick was no longer paying attention.
His face felt warm, stomach twisted in knots. Pete was always affectionate, of course, had always given him compliments, but.. that was new, something that caught him off guard. Patrick waited until Pete was through eating to try and bring it up again, curling into a ball on the opposite end of the couch.
“This show is stupid,” Patrick said casually, glancing over at him. Pete shrugged,“I like stupid shows, you know that.”
Patrick nodded, chewing his bottom lip before continuing. “It’s almost as stupid as you comparing me to the sun.”
The bassist frowned, his head tilting as he looked over. Patrick flushed immediately, but waited for the other man to speak.
“How’s that stupid?”
“I just don’t get it… I don’t see how I’m the sun. You’re the one with the blond hair now, why aren’t you Mr.Sunshine?”
Pete shook his head, his smile much softer than Patrick has expected. “Trick… you’re sunshine to me for a lot of reasons. You’re bright and warm and comforting, your voice is like summer sometimes.. The sun keeps everything alive, too, and..,” Pete turned, looking down at his hands,“you, uh.. you kinda keep me alive a lot? I mean.. I do stupid shit, obviously, but..” he shrugged, still not meeting Patrick’s eyes.
The singer’s heart was in his throat as he stared at his best friend. Pete glanced at him, a faint blush on his cheeks as he looked away again.
The uncomfortable silence was broken by Patrick taking a deep breath. “Pete..” The bassist kept his eyes down, unsure of the reaction the other man would have. Patrick’s lips brushing over his cheek softly shocked him out of silence.
Patrick has to go on vocal rest because of a sore throat, and Pete makes him feel better. Sort of.
TW: NSFW, what plot lmao, ask to tag
In hindsight, maybe booking so many interviews near so many shows wasn’t a good idea. Patrick’s voice started wavering, and he put himself on vocal rest immediately. He always hated having to do vocal rest; he didn’t want to lose his voice, because cancelling shows always made him feel so guilty.
Patrick pouted in his hotel room, sipping tea occasionally. His laptop rested on his legs, and his phone was lying on the mattress beside him, the only ways he could communicate.
Working on garage band made him feel better at least. He could be productive, create, do something other than go stir crazy in a hotel room. The band was enjoying the small break, Pete and Joe handling an interview for him, Andy taking a run in the city.
His phone buzzed beside him, Pete letting him know that they had returned. Patrick didn’t respond, and sighed seconds later when there was a knock at the door. He got up, huffing as he walked barefoot to let Pete inside.
He was grinning hugely, hands pressed into the pockets of his hoodie.
“Hey Rickster! The interview went well, and Trohman scoped out this place to get dinner later. How you holding up?”
Patrick shrugged, plopping down on his bed again. Pete’s smile turned soft, and he sat beside Patrick, brushing the hair out of his eyes.
The singer bit his lip, humming as he leaned into the touch. Since the hiatus, Pete and Patrick had somehow managed to get closer. Lately things had turned more... Intimate. Their eyes lingered on the other more often, touches turning more and more risque.
They were free to do whatever, of course. Patrick had ended things fairly easily with Elisa, the two of them staying good friends as they worked to raise Declan. He had to, of course, since he finally got the balls to admit to himself that he was gay. He knew that something similar had happened with Pete, his and Meghan’s breakup somehow smoother than Patrick’s.
They were allowed to do… Whatever this is, if they wanted to, but Patrick was reluctant. He’d waited so long to get the chance to get with Pete, and now that he could.. He didn’t want to mess it up. So far they haven’t gone any further than a few risque touches, filthy looks, and the one time they made out against the bus.
Pete was smiling still, fingertips brushing down the side of the singer’s face, until he was cupping Patrick’s face with his hand. His thumb gently brushed over Patrick’s bottom lip, making the singer gasp.
The bassist’s smile turned into a smirk, a filthy grin that had Patrick’s stomach doing flips. His breathing turned ragged as Pete leaned forward, lips parting slightly. He gave Patrick plenty of time to turn away, to end this before it could even get started, but he didn’t.
Patrick leaned up, pressing his lips against Pete’s. He kissed him slowly at first, shifting so that they were both more comfortable. His hands snaked down to Pete’s waist, forcing their torsos to touch. The bassist moaned quietly, fingers twisting up in Patrick’s hair, deepening their kiss, his tongue swirling around inside of the singer’s mouth.
He moaned loudly, pulling away from their kiss to breathe. Pete wasn’t phased, trailing his lips down Patrick’s jaw to suck and nip at his neck.
“Pete,” he breathed, his voice high-pitched. His fingers were digging into the soft skin around Pete’s waist, and he desperately need the bassist’s shirt off now. Whining, Patrick tugged at the bottom of his t-shirt until Pete got the hint, leaning back to yank it off his head. Pete leaned down again, teeth grazing over Patrick’s neck, making him gasp.
He shivered, fingers digging into Pete’s sides as he licked a stripe up Patrick’s neck. Pete leaned up, brown eyes almost completely obscured by his blown pupils. He was breathing heavily, staring at Patrick as if asking for permission.
Swallowing hard, Patrick nodded, hands slowly moving up Pete’s chest.
“Please?” he begged, voice rough and high-pitched. Pete growled and kissed him roughly, pushing Patrick backwards onto the bed. His hands were gripping Patrick’s sides roughly, thumbs rubbing circles over the exposed skin. Patrick shivered, shifting so that his thigh was pressed up against Pete’s cock.
From the gasp Patrick received, that was exactly what Pete needed. He shifted, trying to create more friction, until Pete was panting in his ear, swears and Patrick’s name mixed in with the gasps.
With a whine, Pete pulled Patrick’s shirt up off of his head, shifting so that he was on his knees above him. Grinding down made them both cry out, and the singer pulling Pete down for another kiss. Pete pulled away suddenly, a wicked grin on his face.
“Fuck, Trick, wanna- wanna taste you.”
Patrick whined and nodded, lifting his hips to let Pete yank his pajama bottoms off. His erection sprang up, cock leaking slightly. Pete licked his lips before leaning down, staring at Patrick from under his lashes.
The singer shifted so that he was on his elbows, desperately needing to watch. Pete licked from base to tip, before swirling his tongue over the head. Patrick whined loudly, fingers tangling in the bassist’s hair. Pete smirked and went down, gagging a bit as he fit all of Patrick into his mouth.
Patrick cried out, voice breaking as he held on. Pete’s mouth was warm and wet and perfect, just barely grazing his dick with his teeth. Patrick didn’t want to finish quickly, but Pete was ridiculously good at giving head, one hand pulling and twisting as he sucked, the other carefully kneading at Patrick’s balls.
Patrick pulled at his hair until he came up with an obscene pop, brown eyes looking at him curiously.
“P-Pete,” Patrick was shaking, desperate,” Pl-please let me.. Wanna suck you off..” Pete gasped quietly and nodded, carefully switching their positions. He kissed Patrick, surprisingly gentle, but he could taste himself on Pete’s mouth. Patrick whined and slipped down, trailing kisses down the bassist’s chest and stomach. Patrick sucked a large bruise on Pete’s hip bone, marveling in the whines and gasps that came from his mouth as he did.
Pete watched with heavy-lidded eyes as Patrick moved down, swearing as soon as his breath hit the tip of Pete’s dick.
“Fuck, Trick, fuck, please.. I- fuck,”he whimpered, head tipping back as Patrick started to suck lightly on his tip. He smiled and sucked roughly on Pete’s head, tongue pressing against his slit before he went down. Patrick went as far as he could before he gagged.
Pete’s hips moved before Patrick could hold them down. He felt the tip of Pete’s dick hit the back of his neck, and he pulled off immediately, wiping the spit from his mouth. Patrick coughed, wiping the tears out of his eyes as Pete sat up.
“Fuck, I’m sorry Trick, I didn’t mean-,” Patrick waved him off, smiling.
“It’s good,” his voice was wrecked; he’d be lucky if he could even talk tomorrow. Patrick kissed him once, biting Pete’s bottom lip before moving down again.
Patrick sucked another bruise on Pete’s stomach, biting roughly. Pete groaned, tightening his fingers in Patrick’s hair.
“You can pull,” he croaked, licking at the bruise he’d just made,” I really don’t mind. “
He heard Pete swore before he took his cock into his mouth again, sucking on the head. With one hand, he held down Pete’s hips, using the other to wrap around the base. Patrick hollowed his cheeks and went down again.
“FUCK,” Pete’s back arched off of the bed, pulling roughly at Patrick’s sweaty hair. The singer hummed, every noise he pulled from Pete going straight to his erection.
Patrick pulled off for a moment, sticking two fingers into his mouth before continuing to suck at his head. Pete groaned, gasping loudly when one of Patrick’s fingers touched his entrance.
“PLEASE please oh god, oh fuck, Trick,” Pete whimpered; at this point, the entire hotel knew what they were doing, but who cares. Patrick was about to fuck THE Pete Wentz; he’d scream it from the rooftops, if he could speak at all, that is.
Patrick licked the underside of Pete’s dick as he carefully pushed a finger inside, watching the older man carefully. One of Pete’s arms were thrown over his eyes, and he whimpered at every touch Patrick made, hands still tight in his hair.
“You good?” he asked, voice barely audible. Pete nodded, gasping as he opened his eyes to look down.
“P-Please fuck me Trick?”
Patrick’s cock twitched, and he nodded, carefully pushing two fingers inside. Pete bit back a scream, pulling harshly at Patrick’s hair.
The singer stopped, giving the other man a moment to adjust. He kissed and sucked Pete’s dick while he waited, pushing his fingers further inside when Pete nodded.
Carefully, Patrick stretched him open further, fingers searching for that bundle of nerves that would have the bassist really screaming.
From the loud moan Pete just made, it seems like he found it. Patrick pushed to the left again, smirking when Pete whimpered.
He spit in his hand as he sat up, slicking his own dick as best as he could. Pete was watching him with dark eyes, lips parted as he gasped.
“Trick,” his fingers moved up, squeezing the singer’s hips. Patrick shivered; his fingers were rough, pressing harshly into his skin.
Patrick leaned down, hands sliding up Pete’s chest as he kissed him. He pulled back slightly, shifting their position so that Pete’s legs were open wider. He kept their eyes locked as he pushed against his entrance, breathing heavily.
“Please?” Pete’s voice was pretty wrecked too, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s neck. “Please fuck me Tricky?”
Gasping, Patrick pushed in carefully, shaking from the effort it took not to slam in to Pete. He was so, so tight, and the singer knew he wouldn’t last long.
Pete tipped his head back, fingers digging into Patrick’s shoulder. When he was all the way in, Patrick hovered over him, mouthing at his collarbones.
“M-Move.”
Patrick nodded, kissing him one last time before pulling out almost all the way, slamming roughly back into him. Pete cried out, pulling Patrick closer.
They set a rough rhythm, Patrick pounding into Pete as harshly as he could. Pete was loud, moaning and cursing as he scratched down Patrick’s back. The singer felt himself getting closer, and he shifted, aiming slightly to the left.
The second his dick touched Pete’s prostate, the bassist screamed, clenching around Patrick.
“THERE THERE, FUCK, Patrick PLEASE please pleasepleaseplease,” Pete was so close, meeting every thrust as best as he could. Patrick grabbed Pete’s hips roughly, holding him down as he fucked in to him with the last strength he could.
Pete shivered and screamed again as he came, shooting against Patrick’s stomach. The singer fucked into him faster, coming after a few more thrusts, buried deep inside of the bassist.
Patrick collapsed on top of Pete, gasping as he came down. Jizz was smeared across both of their stomachs now, but he couldn’t bring himself to care much.
Pete was still breathing hard, brushing hair out of Patrick’s face. Groaning quietly, he pulled out, making a face at the mess they made.
“G-Give me a minute, I’ll get it,” Pete said quietly, squeezing Patrick’s hand. The singer nodded, moving so that he could lay on his back beside Pete.
As soon as he caught his breath, Pete stood, limping to the bathroom for a washcloth. Patrick couldn’t help but smirk at how the bassist was walking; he would still have difficulty tomorrow, most likely.
Patrick felt a strange surge of possessiveness as Pete cleaned them both up, pulling the bassist into his arms as soon as he was done.
Pete hummed happily, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s middle as he curled against his side. He tucked his head under the singer’s chin, settling beside him sleepily.
“That was..”
“Yeah,” Patrick croaked, lacing their fingers together on top of his chest. He held Pete’s hand to his heart, kissing the crown of his head.
“I love you,” he whispered, heart beating faster. They never admitted feelings like this before, never accepted what they felt. Then again, Patrick never had his dick in Pete’s ass until now, so he figured maybe it was time.
Pete grinned, kissing Patrick’s knuckles. “Love you too, Pattycakes.”
With a satisfied sigh, Patrick hugged the bassist tighter, both of them falling asleep within seconds.
Look the title is lowkey awful BUT this is for the anon that requested more parent peterick, with a special shoutout to my buddy Spencer ( @hidefromeveryone ) for helping me with the plot!
AU: my child won’t stop crying but they start laughing at you / im sorry my kid pointed at you but y’know what that shirt is terrible
TW: food mentions, bad flirting,
Patrick really regretted not drinking that second cup of coffee that morning. He’d worked at the studio for a while, mixing another track for Cobra, but then decided he wanted to take Declan out for the day. It was a nice day out, admittedly. Sunny days in Chicago were something to be cherished.
They went to the museum and the mall, stopping by Patrick’s favorite record store, before deciding to take the bus home instead of walking. Patrick managed to find a not gross looking seat for Declan to sit in, and he stood in front of him, holding the bar with one hand and his phone with the other.
Things were okay at first. Declan was a little fussy, as most toddlers are when you take them out for long periods of time, but then the chaos started.
“Daddy, I wan a cupcake!”
“Dec, we haven’t even had dinner yet buddy. Cupcakes are gonna have to wait.”
Declan started pouting, quietly at first, but the whining slowly got worse. Pretty soon, his son was close to screaming, a few eyes turning toward them. Patrick felt his face heat up, stomach curling into a knot as he put his phone in his pocket and leaned down to his son.
“Dec, c’mon buddy, I said we can get cupcakes later? You have to eat your good food first.”
He felt the bus slow to a stop, people getting off, replaced by more tired people.
“Dec, please don’t cry? I’ll let you pick the movie tonight if you behave for the rest of the ride home.”
Declan’s cries didn’t slow, and Patrick sighed, resigning to the fact that he was now the asshole dad on the bus with the screaming kid.
The bus doors closed, and they slowly started driving again. People pushed their way around for seats or places to stand, and a man not much taller than Patrick grabbed the bar close to him.
Despite the fact that his toddler was causing a scene, Patrick couldn’t help but look over at the guy. Even for Chicago, he was dressed kind of weird. Bright yellow pants, with a flannel shirt and black boots. He was obviously wearing a wig and fake mustache, but despite the strange attire, didn’t look too bad.
Patrick looked away from him, back down to his... No longer screaming toddler?
Declan was staring up at the man beside him, blue eyes wide, a small smile slowly stretching across his face.
“Daddy!” Declan said loudly, pointing at the man beside him.
“We can get donuts? His shirt has them Daddy, can we get some too?”
Patrick flushed bright red, feeling the man’s eyes fall on him, and then on Declan.
“Uh.. S-Sure Dec, yeah, we can get donuts. But only after you eat dinner.”
Declan smiled and nodded, still staring at the man. “Daddy,” he asked quietly, eyes turning to his father,” Why’s his hair funny?”
Patrick was mortified. He turned to the stranger, apology already on his lips, but the man was beaming.
“Can I tell you a secret little guy?” He asked; his voice sounded nice, like he made jokes a lot. Patrick relaxed a little, watching the exchange carefully.
Declan nodded, leaning forward. The stranger smiled. “This isn’t my real hair!” He tugged the wig off carefully, tucking it under his arm to shake his real hair loose. Oily black hair was now poking out everywhere, most of it covering his eyes. He tore off the fake mustache as well, rubbing his lip as he smiled down at the now shocked toddler.
“Daddy, can I get fake hair too?”
“No, buddy, but maybe some other time.” Patrick smiled, turning to the man.
“I’m sorry if he embarrassed you, I.. Alright in all honesty it was an ugly outfit, but you made him stop screaming, so thanks. Um, I’m Patrick by the way.”
“Pete,” the man said easily, grinning lazily at Patrick. “And it’s cool, he’s a cute kid.”
Patrick nodded, smiling down at his son fondly. There was a pause before he heard Pete speak quietly again. “Y’know I can see where he gets it from.”
Patrick blushed, whipping his head around to stare at him in shock. A mischievous grin stretched wide across his handsome face, his brown eyes sparkling. The sight made Patrick’s stomach flutter.
“T-Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself. Y’know, aside from your terrible fashion choices.”
Pete laughed loudly, earning Patrick more glares; by now he had more than likely pissed off the entire bus, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Much, anyway.
“Really though, why in the hell were you wearing that?”
Pete bit his lip, smiling nervously at Patrick. “My stop is soon, but um.. Give me your number, and I could tell you later?”
Patrick blinked, feeling the heat rush up to color his face. “S-Sure, okay, yeah, um.. Do you have your phone, or a pen, or..?”
Pete pulled a sharpie out of the pockets of his way too tight yellow jeans, handing it to Patrick.
He glanced at Declan before uncapping it, nervous as to what the toddler might say. Pete rolled up one of his shirt sleeves, revealing dark tattoos covering his arms. Patrick bit his lip, writing the number on the palm of his hand instead of ruining the ink.
Declan leaned forward, oohing. “Can I see?” He asked, smile bright and pleading. Patrick could recognize the puppy-dog eyes easily, but it seemed that Pete didn’t mind.
He leaned down, showing Declan his sleeve. “It’s the Nightmare Before Christmas! That’s my favorite Disney movie.”
“Mine’s Aladdin!”
Patrick smiled, watching as the two talked about Disney until the bus slowed to a stop.
“So, um, Patrick.. I’ll text you later?” Patrick nodded, waving as he walked off the bus. Declan shouted his goodbye, settling into the seat as soon as the doors shut.
“Daddy, I liked him.”
Patrick grinned, gathering their things for the next stop. “Yeah, I did too.”
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