When The Moonlight Hits Your Bright Eyes (Peterick)

When The Moonlight Hits Your Bright Eyes

The first time it happened left Patrick really confused. It was nothing really; Just another instance of Pete being Pete. He really should be used to these things by now. They happened often enough to where he should have already built an immunity to it. But instead he had stuttered on the next few words of the song. It was a normal thing for Pete to do. It was no secret to anyone that knew them that Pete loved to be all over Patrick, loved to be all over anyone. So when Pete had casually walked up to him on stage, mid set, and ran his hand across Patricks back from shoulder to shoulder and winked at him, it hadn't really been that big of a deal. Of course the action had made the fans scream with joy; they screamed at anything any of them did. Although they barely had a fan base yet, the fans they did have were dedicated. Pete knew exactly how to add fuel to this whole "Shipping" fire. But this time was a little different. Sure Pete did typically like to touch him and be all over him, but usually only when they were alone, at home, band practice, or even the back of the van. Rarely ever was it that he would do these things outside of those spaces and especially not on stage. Patrick tried not to over think it. That was probably all that Pete had wanted, to get a reaction from the crowd. That had to be it, He thought As he continued singing, It's all just for the crowd.

The second time it happened was a little more intense. Patrick had been in the middle of belting out the chorus to "Calm Before the Storm" when out of no where Pete had run his rough, calloused fingers up the length of Patricks arm and landed warm against the back of his neck. His fingers lingered there for what was only seconds but to Patrick had felt like long, gruelling minutes. Then he felt Petes hand travel down the length of his sweat soaked t-shirt before, finally, lifting it and going back to playing. That night in the back of the van, Patrick could swear he still felt Petes fingers burning into his skin, finger prints permanently etched in flesh.

It was only two days later that it happened a third time. This time it was right as they were finishing the last verse of "Moving Pictures" Pete had laid his head on Patricks shoulder, the ends of his hair feathering lightly against Patricks neck. Patrick tore his gaze from the small crowd in front of him to stare down at the top of Petes head. Pete, whose face looked angelic in the glow of stage lighting, his smooth tan skin looking especially luminescent, radiant even. Patrick hadn't even realised he went into autopilot until the roar of the crowd had become nearly deafening, and the moment he pulled away the heat was suddenly lifted. He looked back at his shoulder and upon noticing its emptiness realised Pete had traveled half way across the stage by now, retreating to the upper left hand corner. Patrick simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief, and disappointment.

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The air in the backstage dressing room is stuffy; like four tired boys dripping with post-show excitement and sweat. They have about another hour/hour and a half before they will probably be kicked out by the owner of whatever run down club they're at, but whatever time they can spend not in the back of there old run down van on two donut tires, the better.

"Guys I'm like starving," Patrick groaned, "Anyone down for Chinese?"

"Nah, I ate before the show like a smart person." Andy says without even looking up from his laptop.

"You're going to eat a whole Chinese person?" Joe snickers from behind his magazine.

Patrick rolls his eyes. "Yes Joe, I plan on eating an entire person."

"Actually," Pete chimes in "we'll be eating an entire person. I could go for some Chinese."

Patrick glances around nervously. Any other day this would have been fine, so why does he suddenly have this deep tightening knot in the pit of his stomach? He has no clue, but he does know that he does not want to be alone in the van with Pete.