#bandomfluff24

[floralegia]

#1: "You're blushing."

For day one of @bandomflufffest!

"You're blushing!"

Patrick squints. "Of course I'm blushing. This is mesh. How do you wear this?"

"You're doing a great job from where I'm standing," Pete informs him, with a lascivious wink and a slow, thorough up-and-down glance. "You should put on the roses too. It's, like, bondage chic."

"I am definitely not doing that."

"Aw, baby, c'mon." Pete leaps from the greenroom couch. His smirking grin softens into a smile as he moves, and Patrick finds himself tangled up in a hug before he can so much as blink. "You look good. You know I mean that, right? I mean, you look really, really good."

Patrick tries to let him sweat for a minute, but he doesn't make it longer than a few seconds before he's smiling, too, ducking his head for a kiss.

"Yeah, I know," he says, between the first kiss and a second, and a third, and a fourth. Then, before things can get too out of hand, he lightly shoves Pete away, gesturing towards the item still waiting on a hanger.

"C'mon, you're gonna have to help squeeze me into these damn pants."

[maladaptivejen]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fall Out Boy, Bandom, DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz, Implied Andy Hurley/Joe Trohman Characters: Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump, Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley, Gabe Saporta, Travis McCoy, John Constantine Additional Tags: Srar era, immediately post-hiatus, Magic Realism, Angst and Fluff, Fluff, A little bit of angst, a little bit of laughter, a little bit of magic, a little bit of erica by my side, Magic Rituals, with literal drops of blood, rating mature for that but otherwise it's pretty tame

Summary:

Gabe stares at him in complete silence for what feels like an eternity, expression now morphing from calm concern to ominous alarm. “Pete,” he starts, and it sounds like he’s talking to a small child who’s just painted all over the walls. “Did you piss off a witch?” “Did I what?”

Pete finds himself in a bit of a predicament, and in the ensuing chaos of hexes, warlocks and talking cobras, Patrick is the anchor that keeps him sane. - Set in late 2012.

~

Written for the prompt “I’m right here” for @bandomflufffest​

Nope, you don’t need to know who John Constantine is to read this, don’t worry.

[floralegia]

#3: Love Songs

Day 3 of @bandomflufffest!

"Hey," Pete says suddenly, glancing up from his phone with a faux-serious expression on his face, the effect totally belied by the way the corners of his eyes crinkle with the threat of a grin. "Why don't you ever write me any love songs?"

Oh, honestly. Part of Patrick feels like he shouldn't even dignify that with a response. Seriously, how long have they been doing this?

"I've been writing you love songs for twenty years, Panda," he says, not even bothering to look up from his laptop, and smiles to himself at the sound of Pete sucking in air.

[floralegia]

#2: Confession

Day two of @bandomflufffest! You can also read it on ao3 here.

The voicemail notification has been staring at him for the better part of a day. Patrick can feel it like a physical weight, almost, or a creature lurking in his peripheral vision, there every time he turns his head. It's stupid; he should just listen to it. He aches with how much he wants to listen to it, actually. But at the same time, he's terrified of what it might or might not say. What if it's not what he's hoping it might be?

Or what if it is?

When he finally summons up his courage, the first thing he hears is just breath—a long, slow inhale he'd know anywhere.

"Hey, Trick," Pete says on the other end of the line, with a cheerfulness that's obviously a little forced. "Sorry I missed you. It's nothing time-sensitive or whatever, just call when you get a chance. I just thought maybe we could talk."

On the surface, he sounds confident, casual. Underneath, Patrick can hear the hesitance that never used to be there. That shouldn't be there. Something in his chest clenches, and more than anything he wishes he had Pete here with him in the room, so that he could do... something. It almost doesn't matter what. Smack him on the head, elbow him, jostle his shoulder. Just something to remind him that Patrick's there. Hell, something to remind him that Pete's there.

There's another of those achingly familiar breaths, and then so quiet Patrick almost misses it: "Fuck."

"I just miss you," Pete says, before Patrick can process anything else. Then again, it's not like anything else matters, not after a confession like that. "I—obviously I've missed you this whole time. I missed you the second you weren't there anymore. But lately, it's..."

A much gustier sigh this time, and then the forced cheerfulness is back; it's enough to make Patrick wince.

"Sorry, not trying to be maudlin," Pete chirrups. Mentally, Patrick ups his physical contact plans from a light smack on the arm to a full-on assault of some kind. "Just—give me a call when you can, okay?"

And just like that, the line clicks dead, only to be replaced by the pleasant robotic tones of the voicemail lady reading Patrick a list of menu options. He saves the message on impulse—doesn't let himself look at that decision too closely—and then spends a good few minutes just staring at the wall. Just—feeling things he hasn't been letting himself feel for quite some time. It was easier, with the go-go-go of the album, and touring, and everything, but now...

Well. Now he's got Pete's voice on his phone again, almost/not at all like nothing ever changed. And he's got something pounding in his chest that tells him that if it did change, then maybe it's finally a change for the better.

Maybe it's finally time for them to try again.

[floralegia]

#5: "I'm right here."

...or, well, "we're right here!" This one is a little bit longer (who's shocked?), so I'll just link to the ao3. It's 850 words of gen Family of Boys content. <3

[floralegia]

#6: Clothes Sharing

For day 6 of @bandomflufffest, we have... baby's first Frerard?! Also on ao3 here!

Eventually, enough is enough. Gerard slams into the back lounge of the bus with great prejudice, hands on his hips and glare firmly in place.

"Where are they, Frankie?"

Frank looks up from his guitar, blinking. "What?"

"Don't what me." Gerard stomps across the room to jab a finger into his chest—his damningly hoodie-clad chest. "Where! Are! My! Hoodies!"

"Hey! Fuckin'—quit it!" Scowling, Frank bats his hands away, holding the guitar in front of him like a shield. "This is literally the only one I have, and I'm wearing it, so you know where it is!"

"It is not the only one," Gerard scoffs. "You know how I know that? Because I have no fucking hoodies left. Do you know how many hoodies I brought on this tour? Five! It is January, Frank, I'm fucking cold! Where are they?"

Something unexpected happens then: Frank blushes. Frank isn't exactly a frequent blusher; Gerard would know, since he definitely is one. But here's Frank, pink-cheeked and suddenly refusing to make eye contact, even fucking fidgeting. It's... well, it's weird. Gerard's eyes, already slits from the strength of his glare, narrow impossibly further.

"Frank," he says, and bless him, Frank breaks in an instant.

"I'm sorry, I didn't actually realize I'd taken all of them," he says, flicking a quick glance at Gerard from under his eyelashes, which, like, is definitely unfair, but whatever. "Like, I didn't do it on purpose. Just, like... I mean you're right, it's fucking cold, and your hoodies, they're, like, cozy. And they smell good, you know? They smell like—well, you. Makes it cozier."

Gerard is suddenly forced to confront the idea that he may have slipped sideways into an alternate dimension sometime in the last few minutes. He thinks he'd have noticed before now if it was, like, a thing that happened while he was asleep or whatever, but now it's clear that something is off.

"Frankie," he says very slowly, "you are constantly telling me I smell like ass."

"It's different!" Frank protests. "And, like—that's why I have to get 'em before you've worn them too long!"

He seems to realize that this contradicts his 'it was all an accident, I'm innocent' routine and clams up immediately, but the damage is already done; Gerard charges forward again, and Frank cowers behind his guitar, but Gerard wrests it from him easily enough and sets it to the side (carefully, he's not a monster) before doing the only thing he can really think to do: enveloping Frank in a hug."

"Okay, now I'm just confused," Frank says, muffled by Gerard's shoulder. Gerard just squeezes him tighter in response.

He waits until he's good and ready before pulling back; Frank's made him suffer in the cold tour bus with a dwindling supply of hoodies for, like, two weeks at this point, the least he can do to make up for it is let Gerard hug to his heart's content. When he finally pulls back, he lets Frank see the way he's smiling before schooling his expression into something sterner.

"That's fucking adorable, Frankie," he says. "But you still can't steal all my fucking hoodies, okay? I need them. Like, at least some of them."

Frank is quiet for a moment, clearly thinking. Eventually, he tilts his head a little and says, "I have a proposal."

"Okay?"

"What if, like, I get your hoodies," he says, tapping Gerard's chest with one finger, "and you get my hoodies?"

Jesus Christ, Gerard thinks. That is seriously so fucking adorable. Does he get it? Does he realize how adorable that is? Gerard's not even sure if he realizes how adorable that is.

Regardless, he's clearly still waiting for a response, so Gerard does his best to corral the part of him that's mentally squealing like a teenage girl and instead sticks a hand out to formally seal the deal.

"We can do the prisoner exchange after you're done practicing," he says, and Frank's grin maybe sort of makes all the chilly mornings and frigid evenings Gerard's had to suffer through kind of worth it.

[floralegia]

#4: Sharing an Umbrella

For day 4 of @bandomflufffest, and what do you know, it's some different dudes this time around! Also found here on ao3.

The muttered curses echoing just behind make it patently obvious that Gabe's hoodie isn't exactly standing up to the way the rain is currently being driven more or less at their faces by that famous Chicago wind. Moderately safer and warmer within the shelter of his umbrella, William grins to himself. Sure, he might be fucked if the wind shifts direction and catches him like a sail, but for now he's feeling pretty good about his decision, thanks.

"Aw, c'mon, you can't tell me this is that much worse than New York," he calls over his shoulder, laughing a little at the peeved-but-fond grimace Gabe levels at him. "A little rain isn't going to take you down, is it?"

"Easy for you to say," Gabe shoots back, with a meaningful look at the umbrella. He'd laughed a little bit when William got it out, probably because it's covered in little rubber duckies, but he's not laughing now. The rubber duckies are damn good at their job.

William considers for a minute as they walk, Gabe slogging along behind him getting considerably more waterlogged with each step. The teasing, the back-and-forth, that's all well and good, but there's more than a little bit of autumn chill in the air, and William doesn't actually enjoy seeing his friends suffer. Not, like, for-real suffer. Well, okay, maybe Mike sometimes, but that's different.

"Here," he says, freezing in place for a moment so that he falls into Gabe's space, pulling him into the protective halo of the umbrella. Gabe startles a bit, but he's always been quick on the uptake; he's crowding closer into William's space in a heartbeat, shivering dramatically.

"My hero," Gabe simpers, and William rolls his eyes like he's supposed to, chuckles like he's supposed to, but inside, things are not so mellow and mundane. He takes a carefully-measured breath in and is all but clobbered by the spicy smell of Gabe's cologne--a bit dimmed by tromping all over Chicago in the rain, but still very much there, and still very much knee-weakening, damn it. He's really going to have to find a solution to that one of these days, at least if he's going to continue doing very kind and magnanimous things like sharing his umbrella when Gabe hasn't adequately prepared himself for the weather. Which he is, obviously, because the whole problem is that he likes Gabe. A lot. More than a lot.

Fuck. Maybe it's in everyone's best interests if they get inside quickly. After all, even the best rubber ducky umbrellas aren't typically built to handle two tall dudes. Also, the sooner they get indoors, the more likely it is that William will be able to prevent his brain from melting like cotton candy and dribbling out of his ears.

"C'mon," he says, cuddling up against Gabe just a little bit closer while he's got a good excuse and taking one more deep inhale. "Let's get out of this weather. There's a good cafe down the street."

"Lead the way," Gabe says, and William flashes him a close-lipped smile as they start to press their way forward into the wind again.

[bandomflufffest]

Thanks to everyone who participated in this first round of Bandom Fluff Fest! While the admin catches up on reblogging works, feel free to continue adding posts to the AO3 collection and Tumblr tag.

And keep your eyes peeled for another round, with fresh new prompts, coming your way in a few months... 👀