Demolition Lovers (Frerard)

16: Pete Likes Balls

Lindsey wasn't stupid.

Lindsey wasn't stupid and Pete wasn't discreet, and the whole house smelled of someone else and his sheets were messed up, and Pete was smiling, for once.

The whole place practically screamed sex.

Pete was not discreet.

In fact, Lindsey noticed it all upon the very moment that she walked through the door, raising her eyebrows in Pete's direction, who had, of course, just attempted to shrug it off, but failed in the process, because Pete Wentz and discretion resided in two entirely different ends of the universe.

"Who was it?" Lindsey got straight to the point, despite the fact that this was anything but straight, sitting down beside Pete after she'd closed the door behind herself. "Come on, I'm not stupid." She gave Pete a glare not to be messed with, leaving him to blush like hell as he pulled his knees up to his chest and poured himself another glass of wine.

It was wine today, apparently, which was oddly classy for Pete, but it made a change at the very least, because Lindsey was really starting to expect Pete just developing an allergy to vodka, because it was getting a little concerning now, to say the least, that was.

"What?" Pete played dumb: the only card he had left, and the only one he'd begun with - he didn't exactly know how to deal cards properly, evidently. "I don't know what you're talking about, I-"

"Bullshit." Lindsey cut him off, grabbing the bottle and pouring herself a glass of wine too, because, okay, Pete did have a concerning addiction to alcohol, but he definitely knew what was good and what wasn't by now, so if there was anyone to trust with that, it was most definitely Pete Wentz. "Since when did you drink wine, anyway?"

Pete shrugged it off: not entirely too sure of the answer himself, but whatever. "Since now, I guess. It's not nearly as shitty as I expected it to be, which is... nice... I don't know... I feel fucking classy, Lindsey, classy."

"You will never be classy." She promised him, taking a sip as she narrowed her gaze: utterly unconvinced by any of Pete's pouts or arguments.

"Stop bullying me." Pete scowled, folding his arms in a manner that ensured he looked far to young to be allowed to drink wine, but whatever, Lindsey was his lawyer, not his mother, even though the lines definitely did seem to blur more than they should.

"I'm not bullying you, I'm just telling you the truth. You're a gang leader, you're drunk for about ninety percent of your life, and you're refusing to tell me as to just who you had sex with here last night, and don't fucking bullshit me, Pete: I can tell."

"I didn't have sex with anyone." Pete continued, dropping the whole classy thing, because, well, okay, Lindsey had a point, and it was a damn good one at that. "But... yeah, there was someone here over night... we didn’t fuck, though, which is... disappointing, but he was high as fuck and was practically passing out all over me and well.. I'm not that much of an asshole."

"That's good news at the very least." Lindsey rolled her eyes, pulling her phone out after feeling it vibrate in her pocket, and making no secret of the way she blushed as she read Alicia's text message: it was unimportant, just a hello and several emojis that made very little sense, but to Lindsey, well, it was nothing short of the highlight of her day.

"Alicia." Pete was stupid, well, yeah, but Lindsey was being a very obvious lesbian right now, and to the extent that even Pete Wentz was picking up on it, which really meant that Alicia was pretty fucking stupid not to have noticed the great big lesbian affair going between her and Lindsey yet. "It's Alicia, and you're smiling and you're blushing. Lesbians."