Just Once - A Peterick Fic

Chapter 15

        I was cuddled up next to Pete on the couch backstage at Jimmy Kimmel, waiting for our turn to go on and play. We were just scheduled for a performance, not an interview this time and I wasn't complaining. Actually, I don't think any if us were.

        Andy and Joe sat on the couch opposite Pete and me, seemingly in deep conversation about absolutely nothing. Occasionally, a giggle would float over to us and I'd glance over there wondering what was so funny, but I never seemed to find out. Pete appeared to be oblivious to it, pretty well spaced out minus the occasional glance down at me accompanied by a cheesy smile. Needless to say, it elicited a laugh and smile in return from me each time because damn, that man was undeniably adorable.

        "Get ready! You're on after this commercial break!" I heard someone on the show's crew yell to the four of us without ever entering the room.

        I groaned, burying my face in Pete's chest. It's not that I didn't want to go out there and play; it's that I wanted to stay here cuddled up with Pete.

        "C'mon Pattycakes. You've gotta move," he told me, laughing a little at me. Pushing against my shoulder lightly, he tried to get me off of him feebly, not really putting too much effort into it.

        "But I don't want to," I whined, fighting to keep a smile off my lips and refusing to budge as he pushed on me.

        "But you need to," he said, his smile evident in his voice as he continued to try to push me off.

        That's when I felt hands grip around my ankles, pulling me in the opposite direction of Pete until I wound up being held bridal style by Andy. I looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open from surprise. The entire room remained silent until Pete's hysterical laughter filled the room. Soon, we all joined him, Andy having to put me down for fear of dropping me because he'd been laughing too hard.

        "What the hell was that, Andy?" Joe asked once he was able to speak again, giggles still spurting out of his mouth every once in a short while.

        He shrugged, saying, "We've only got a couple minutes before we have to be out there." He spoke as if it was a completely logical explanation, like every one just picked up their friends when they were in a hurry. This caused all of us to crack another smile, Pete shaking his head in disbelief.

        A moment later we were corralled to the part of the stage where we were to perform. The small audience cheered as we walked out, only a few all-out screaming. They were the ones wearing t-shirts with our faces on them so I shot them a quick smile. Our fans are the absolute best.

        We played I Don't Care, and left the stage shortly after, handing our instruments to the right people an heading back to the same room we'd been in before. This time is was just to grab our stuff, jackets and cellphones mainly, before heading out to meet the fans that were undoubtedly waiting outside for us. We couldn't escape them anymore but I guess that was a good thing, right?

        A couple of the kids out there that looked like fans shouted hateful things to us about the new album, how they didn't like it one bit. Needless to say, we didn't stop and talk to them, just the ones who genuinely seemed to be happy to see us. I think Pete might've flipped them off, but I only saw it out of the corner of my eye. It really wouldn't surprise me if he did.

        We heard a few negative things about every album we've put out, but it seemed like there were more than a few negative reviews coming in this time around and that scared me. Maybe I was just focusing more on the negative this time. That's what I'll keep telling myself. Nonetheless, I was worried about our tour coming up. What if it didn't go well?

No, Patrick. It has to go well.

~~~~~~~~

        "Are you nervous, Little Dipper?" Pete asked me when we were lying in bed back at the hotel that night. We were spooning, his arms wrapped around my waist from behind, thus the temporary nickname. I almost laughed at how sincerely he was able to call me that, but didn't because I had a feeling I knew exactly what he was talking about.

        "Of course, but about what specifically?" I asked anyways, hoping he meant something else. If he hadn't noticed the extra negativity, then maybe it was all just in my head.

        "Touring on this album cycle," he told me, his tone unchanged. I still hoped he was just talking about the usual nervous energy before a new tour rather than anything special for the album.

        "Well yeah, I mean, debuting new material live is always nerve-wracking," I said, choosing my words carefully. If he didn't feel especially nervous this time around, I didn't want to plant those seeds in his mind.

        "No, I mean, more so than usual," he said, sounding a little confused as if he wasn't quite sure why he was feeling this way, but he definitely was. My hopes were washed away with his words, like a flood had come through and wiped them out. He'd noticed the negativity too, even if it wasn't entirely conscious.

        "Yeah, I know what you mean," I admitted with a sigh, as if the entire thing were a burden weighing me down. In a way, it was. The idea that the fans might not respond well on this tour was a troubling one, and I couldn't shake it.

        Pete hesitated a moment before responding, as if he were trying to gather his thoughts enough to speak. "I'm not even sure why, I just have this feeling."

        "The fans just don't seem to be loving this album as much, I don't know," I told him, tacking on the last three words in order to sound like I hadn't been focusing on it as much as I actually have.

        "Maybe," he said, sounding as if he only half believed me, like he was going to give it some more thought later. As if he was snapping out of a trance, he suddenly changed his tone to one of encouragement. "I'm sure it'll all work out fine. They always say they'll be there no matter what."

        I wish his words made me feel better, but they hadn't because really, what good is their word? I love them, but they're a bunch of teenagers saying things over the internet.

        "Yeah, you're right," I told him absentmindedly, my thoughts running rampant inside my head. He grunted in response, obviously just moments from falling asleep, his face buried in the crook of my neck.

        Almost like I was trying to reassure myself, I grabbed his hand resting at my waist, just holding it for something to hold onto that wasn't a pillow or bed sheet. Everything would work out fine. It had to. Maybe if I'll tell myself that enough, I'll start to believe it. I'll chant it inside my head until I fall asleep, drilling it into my subconscious, replacing the negative thoughts.

        At least we'll try

        And run tonight.

        Everything will be alright.