Saturday // Peterick Oneshots

2. (I love you.)

Once again, not really sure what this is, or if it makes sense. Angst. Roughly IOH era.

Don't get Patrick wrong: making out with the Pete Wentz is fantastic...it's just that he wishes it would happen under better circumstances. Patrick had figured out pretty quickly after that first night when Pete had dragged him to a dark corner and kissed him until he couldn't breathe that it wasn't all affection motivating him. It's some sort of grounding technique-like when he leans on Patrick onstage, but more private.

More intimate.

It drove Patrick insane.

It really can't be healthy for him to keep letting Pete do it, it can't, but now he's addicted to the way it feels to be in their own little world and he doesn't know any rehab center that could help him out. Hell, he can't decide if he even wants help. If he goes insane so be it. Maybe they can have some sort of symbiotic relationship: Patrick calms Pete down and in exchange Pete continues to make Patrick's stomach fill with butterflies every time they come offstage.

The feeling's always strongest in the seconds before their mouths meet. It's right when Pete has Patrick backed up against the wall, his shaking hands on Patrick's shoulders and nothing but anxiety written on his face. He takes a few unsteady breaths, sweat still dripping from his hair and down his face, before silently asking for permission to lean in.

(That's what always gets Patrick the most. A part of him wants to shake Pete and yell at him until he understands that this is another one of their things now, and unless he has other motives, he doesn't need to ask. If he does, however, have other motives, Patrick would at least like to talk them over. Maybe their agendas would line up.)

Then again, it's also pretty fucking great when they actually kiss. Pete's lips aren't as soft as the fanfics say, but they're skilled and gentle and everything Patrick dreams about. Pete always cups his face for whatever reason, and it makes Patrick's heart flutter. Plus, he can't help but feel a rush of pride when Pete's trembling lessens at Patrick's hands on his waist.

I did that. I made Pete calm(er). No one else-me.

(Maybe he loves me for it.)

That's what Patrick wants, deep down. He wants Pete to kiss him all the time, not only when he's trying to come down from the rush of the show (though he doesn't mind being Pete's first choice). He wants to hold Pete in bed at night and be able to say those three little words.

But there's a reason those thoughts are always in parentheses.

Whenever they break away, Pete rests their foreheads together and whispers, "Thank you." Thank you. Like Patrick had held open a door for him and not made his mind go blank with (love) distraction.

But that's all he was, wasn't he? Distraction. Sometimes he'd fool himself otherwise, give the parenthetical thoughts a little more time to bounce around in his head, but it didn't matter. Pete always extracts himself from Patrick's hands and sneaks away. Patrick watches him walk off, just like he watches him when they're all on the bus later and Pete's tipsy but content, even if it means he's a little reckless. He watches closely and drags Pete to the bunks when he's had too much. He watches Pete roll out of bed the next morning. He watches Pete apply his eyeliner. He watches Pete tune his bass. He watches with a head full of concern and a heart full of longing.

He watches Pete a little too much.

It's gotten to the point where he knows Pete's mouth like the back of his hand. Again, it's a bit of an intimate affair, without all the other nitty-gritty details. It'd break Patrick's heart if it weren't for the fact that Pete only ever comes to him. Sure, he'll make out with anyone, but not like he does with Patrick. Not as a substitute for Xanax. For a good time, maybe, but not relief. He's not sure why it makes him feel better, but it does.

He still wishes Pete would say three words instead of the two, "Thank you," after they break apart.

He'd give anything for three.