I dedicate this to my fucked up ankle, @KatieAFanOfAll 's hentai and @its-a-musi-cal cuz she asked (IOH era)
Something should have clicked in Pete's tiny, shriveled lizard brain that jumping off of a minimal of ten feet tall speaker was not a good idea. Of corse, being the impulsive idiot he was, he jumped turning the chorus of Thnks Fr Th Mmrs, falling right on his left ankle. God, the pain. It was blinding pain. Of corse, he brushed it off like nothing happened, even if he was writhing in pain. He could not feel his foot, the noise his joint made when he dropped on it with all his one hundred and twenty pounds of his weight was enough to keep him away from physical activity for the rest of his life. If he survived the fall. If.
Pete survives. Spoiler.
"It's a fracture." He remembers the doctor saying before Andy pushes him in a wheel chair, following the doctor to get his ankle wrapped. Pete hates hospitals, but he gets to choose the color of his cast, which is pretty cool. He chooses black, of corse. What kind of emo icon would he be if he didn't choose black. Andy gives him the "I'm not mad, just disappointed" kind of voice when he tells Pete that he needs to take care of himself, and that he can not keep getting hurt seeing that he is getting older. Pete doesn't want to get older. He wants to eighteen forever and he really wants to get the cast with the race cars on it.
Whatever.
Patrick forces him to sit in the wheel chair until they get back to the hotel and Joe draws a dick on his cast in shimmery Sharpie.
"You look badass dude, say you got mauled by bears or some shit." Joe says, so nonchalant as Patrick pushes Pete's wheel chair through the lobby.
"Ooh or you didn't break it in the worst fucking way ever." Patrick sighs. "Seriously, why did you jump off the speaker? What if you hit your head? Jesus, Pete, you worry me to no end."
"If he hit his head, it wouldn't do anything. There's not much in there." Joe chuckles as Andy opens the elevator with the key card.
"Hey! I can hear you." Pete pouts, looking up at his bandmates. Andy is so...so stoic in his vegan and straight edge glory, almost over all of the trio's childish banter.
"Ssh, baby, this doesn't concern you." Patrick pets the top of Pete's hair in a childish way. Crossing his arms, a large frown resting on his face, Pete rides up the elevator to the fifth floor, listening to Joe and Patrick argue over his injury.
"Now you can't suck his toes, sorry Pat."
"Don't call me that. And hey I am not into that."
Having a broken ankle sucks. Pete hates everything about this.
"It's gonna get all sweaty after sex." Pete sulks, listing off the many reasons why he hates having a cast. "I can't run. I can't stand to take a piss. Patrick, I love sex, running and taking pisses. It's the joy of my life." He's laying on the bed, leg with the cast propped up on a pillow. "It's a sweaty...sweaty sex cast. And there's no fucking way I'm not fucking for three weeks, mmkay?"
"You broke your ankle, you didn't loose your legs." Patrick has had enough with Pete's juvenile complaints. "Also, excuse you, with out me, you wouldn't have sex."
"Fuck off." Pete's grumpy. A class A grump, if you will. He's pissed off, pardon the pun. "I'm in pain and you're a shitty boyfriend."
"How about I go down to the drug store and pick up some Advil and cherry coke and then we cuddle and watch Tim Burton movies. Am I shitty boyfriend now?"
YOU ARE READING
peterick smut//br41n v0m1t
Fiksi Penggemarp0rn w/o no plot and plots with some p0rn with my favorites