:3 can you write van accident peterick please !!!! i will love you dearly and desperately until i die
hiii hii yes ofc, idk if you want smut, so my warning is that the third part of this will have smut. i didn’t expect this to be this long but i hope you like it!!
Winter, 2004. somewhere in pennsylvania.
Pete had fallen asleep in the third row of the van almost immediately into the drive, legs thrown across Patrick’s lap the second they had both sat down.
Patrick, unbothered, had his headphones in, tapping his fingers on Pete’s calf to the beat.
five minutes later the van had slid off the road and into the forest, eventually hitting a tree and coming to a stop.
nothing but silence filled the air for a good ten seconds, well, aside from the blaring DING… DING… DING…DING… of the vans alarm.
“holy shit” someone says. Patrick can’t quite make out who it was because of the adrenaline pumping through him.
Pete’s awake now, obviously, he’d scrambled to sit up the second he realised they were off the highway and about to crash into a tree.
Joe opens the van door and reminds everyone that they should probably get the fuck out.
Patrick stumbles out and steps back to look at it, still shaken, his lower lip begins to quiver and his nose becomes pink as the cold air wraps around him. the snow crunches beneath his feet, already soaking into his converse.
Pete stands beside him and laughs.
“holy shit we’re alive!” with that stupidly charming grin. Patrick punches his shoulder.
“could’ve died.” Patrick whispers to himself under his breath.
Random Motel, Pennsylvania
Andy had handed Patrick a room key and then fucked off to his room with joe. the others had all roomed together. leaving Pete and Patrick together (of course)
Since the crash, Pete couldn’t stop laughing, Patrick couldn’t understand what was funny about them nearly dying.
“it’s not that funny, dude we literally have no van. I could’ve died, WE could have died.” he lectures as he throws his backpack in the corner of the room and locates the thermostat, pressing the up arrow until the number on the screen wouldn’t increase.
“cool your tits, we’re alive and fine.” pete says through his t shirt, which is stuck on his head for a moment before he manages to yank it off.
Pete flops into the bed before wiggling out of his jeans and launching them at Patrick.
“dick” Patrick says as he dodges them and goes to shower.
Patrick exits the bathroom with a towel around his waist and damp hair.
“close your eyes” he calls out, but pete’s eyes are already closed and his breathing is quiet.
he walks to his backpack, digs out a shirt and boxers and some stupid plaid pijama pants and begins changing.
Pete, was in fact not asleep. but Patrick didn’t know that. he barely opens his eyes and the second he catches a glimpse of patrick’s damp back, a smirk plasters itself across his face, which he quickly conceals, because if Patrick realised he was awake he’d be dead.
Now clothed, Patrick turns off the bedside lamp and climbs into bed beside Pete.
Patrick can’t sleep, the thermostat is too high, which is his own fault, and he can’t shake the thought of what if? what if i had been in the seat in-front of me and the branch had hit me and-
he feels Pete stir beside him.
“mmn’ dude i can hear you thinking…” pete mutters out.
a tattooed arm lands across his midsection.
“can you turn down the heater, please?” Pete asks.
with a groan, Patrick stands up and aggressively turns down the heater.
Pete’s eyes peel open, and he can see patrick’s eyes are extra shiny, as if he had been crying.
“god, come here.” he sighs as he reaches his arms toward Patrick.
Patrick hesitantly steps closer to Pete’s side of the bed. Pete grabs the waistband of his pijama pants and tugs him closer.
“can you- can you lay on top of me? the pressure helps me sleep..”
and with a sigh patrick situates himself, chest to chest with Pete, his chin on his shoulder and face down into the pillow beside his head. he can’t really breathe well but whatever.
Pete sighs in content and wraps his arms around patrick’s waist, squeezing gently.
Patrick’s too tired to do anything to protest.
The hands on his waist become hands cupping his ass, and the best thing he can think of doing to tell Pete to cut it out is sinking his teeth into the crook of Pete’s neck.
He shouldn’t be as surprised as he is when instead of an “Ow!” he gets a low moan from the older boys lips instead.
“trick- fuckin’ don’t do that”
“then stop grabbing my ass you freak”
Patrick attempts to squirm out of his grasp but it’s futile, Pete only grabs at his waist to keep him there.
Patrick pushes himself up to sit back and glare down at Pete.
“don’t look at me like we haven’t fucked before.”
“i was 18 and drunk, pete.”
“it’ll get your mind off the crash..”
and all of a sudden Pete’s hands are urgently untying the carefully tied bow of patrick’s pijama pant strings, and Patrick’s getting off of him to remove the pants all together before returning to straddle him.
Pete reaches to cup his face and pull him down into a sleepy wet kiss, giggling as he smacks over dramatic kisses from his lips up to his cheeks, then down to his jaw and coming to a stop on his neck, where he licks and sucks and bites, trying his best not to leave a pete-wentz-mouth shaped bruise in a place everyone can see.
Patrick keeps letting out these little whimpers that make Pete want to compile them all onto a cd and play over and over again forever.
Finally deciding to pay attention to the aching problem in both of their boxers, Pete taps his fingers on Patrick’s shoulder before saying
“lay on your back for me, yeah?” into Patrick’s ear.
Patrick does as he’s told and rolls over onto his back, arms falling up by his head. Pete is quick to sit up and play with the waistband of Patrick’s boxers, watching in awe as Patrick squirms, the little bit of skin on his tummy revealed by his slowly riding up shirt glowing white in the moonlight seeping through the thin curtains.
“quit- fucking around Pete cmon.. m’ tired..”
Pete lightly taps his thigh and asks “do you have lube?”
Patrick, ashamed, nods and tells him it’s in the front pocket of his backpack. returning with the lube bottle, Pete now has the pleasure of tugging off the boys boxers and throwing them far across the dark room. he leans down and kisses Patrick’s hip before sitting back up and squeezing more lube than needed onto his fingers.
Patrick gasps at the cold-wet feeling of Pete rubbing at his entrance with his slicked up fingers, before throwing his forearm across his face to clamp his teeth into the skin in order to muffle his pathetically girlish moan at the first finger being introduced.
“ah- nuh uh, cmon,” Pete pulls Patrick’s arm away from his face. “wanna hear you, kay?”
Patrick nods and bites his lip as another finger is added and Pete begins moving them a little more, effectively stretching him until Patrick is squirming underneath him for more.
“for what?” Pete asks, giving him a pitiful look.
“fuck- your dick- please..”
Pete chuckles and takes off his boxers before pushing Patrick’s legs apart more so that he fits between them, he aligns himself, and in one swift motion he buries himself into the boy.
He gives Patrick a moment to adjust, because he’s not a monster, before grabbing the back of his thighs and pushing them up, and holding onto them as he begins to pump inside of him.
“fuck- so fuckin’ tight.. anyone else do this to you since last time?”
Patrick shakes his head no, before a whine escapes his lips at a particularly deep thrust.
He repeatedly fucks into the boys prostate, eliciting a moan with each thrust.
Pete’s hands fall down to the boys waist as he goes harder, faster, rougher. He leans down to lick a bead of sweat off of his neck, then kisses him deeply, sincerely.
“Fuck- trick m’ gonna come already”
“not- not inside” is all Patrick can manage to get out between his moans.
right as Pete reaches the edge, he pulls out and pushes Patrick’s shirt up further, and begins rapidly jerking off onto his stomach, biting his lip and making eye contact with the wet blue eyes below him.
He comes all over the boys stomach, and before Patrick can even protest, he wipes some up with his middle and index finger and shoves them into Patrick’s parted lips, watching with awe when he obediently sucks on the digits, tongue parting them. Pete shoves the fingers further into Patrick’s throat and wraps his other hand around the poor boys aching cock, jerking him off vigorously and rather aggressively. Patrick moans around his fingers, drawing a groan from pete as he feels the way his throat constricts around the fingers.
Patrick writhes as he comes all over their stomachs, Pete presses down on his tongue and runs his thumb over the sticky pink tip in his hand.
“fuck you.” Patrick sputters out once Pete finally lets him breathe.
