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rsadelleThere was an ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
anon_lovefest prompt in August that said, "Pete/Patrick. Pete and Patrick don't start dating until the long-defunct Fall Out Boy gets back together for a slightly awkward reunion show." I started writing it, but then I got stuck, partially because it kept coming to an end before I wanted it to. Rereading it now, I didn't even write down that too-early ending. Below is what I did write, and below that is a note about the ending it kept coming to and the one I originally wanted.
So the thing is that Pete hasn't really played bass in years. Fall Out Boy was the only band he ever wanted, so after they decided there was no more Fall out Boy, he didn't go looking for a new band, or even take up any of the offers he had to do special guest spots with other bands. He focused on his record label, his clothing line, and his family.
Andy has never not been in a band the whole time Pete's known him, so he's in practice. Joe, too, found another band. And Patrick. Patrick, of course, sings even better now and plays more instruments.
So, yeah, Pete's the only one who doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, which is why he's the one who insists they all fly to New York a week before the show so they can practice.
It's not going well. They have to stop every few bars for Pete to catch up, and even if it's been years since he last spent every waking moment with them, he can tell all three of them are frustrated with him.
Patrick calls for the break.
"Sorry, dude," Pete says, but he's grateful for it. His fingers aren't used to this anymore either, and the skin is starting to feel sore and raw.
Patrick waves him off and sits down at his laptop. Joe and Andy wander off to find something to eat and catch up. Pete sits down on one of the practice space's couches and pulls out his phone to check his messages. What he really wants isn't there - it's still early in New York, even earlier in LA, and Bronx's school is strict about cell phone use during school hours. There are business things, though, and he deals with some of those before closing his phone and turning it over and over in his hands while he just looks at the familiar shape of Patrick with headphones bent over a laptop.
It's just like always, and it's totally different.
Pete gets up and walks across the space to the couch Patrick's on. He's not sure if he's allowed to do this anymore, but he's Pete Wentz, and he's never let that get in his way, so he sits down next to Patrick and leans his chin on Patrick's shoulder.
The corner of Patrick's mouth quirks up in a yes, hi kind of way, but he doesn't look up, and Pete figures that means it's okay. He's still there, watching Patrick do inexplicable but surely amazing things on his laptop, when Joe and Andy wander back in twenty minutes later.
Joe laughs and Andy says, "Just like always."
Patrick takes off his headphones, Pete gets off the couch, and they try practicing again.
He's got maybe two songs down when Patrick calls for the next break.
"Maybe," Patrick says very diplomatically, "we should let Joe and Andy get out of here for a while and just work on the bass parts."
Pete can feel his mouth twisting into something that could be either a pout or a sneer, and he tries to remember every trick every therapist has ever tried to teach him to derail his internal monologue of notgoodenoughnotgoodenoughnotgoodenough.
"It's fine," Patrick says, "okay? We can work on that for a while, and they can go do whatever."
Pete makes himself nod. "Yeah, yeah, sure dude." He holds up his phone. "Just let me."
"Yeah, sure." Patrick pulls out his own phone and steps away to give him privacy.
It's late enough now that there's a text on his phone from Bronx: how mny guitrsts 2 chng lt bulb?
Pete grins down at his phone and texts back: 12. 11 2 do it & 1 2 say cd do it bttr He snaps the phone closed and is still grinning when he steps closer to Patrick.
"Okay," Patrick says, "maybe we should just." He gestures at the couches, and Pete picks up his bass and sits next to him.
A couple of hours later, he has the first two songs down cold, and a good start on the next two, and Joe texts them both to suggest dinner.
So they go out, to a restaurant that's quiet enough that they can talk, and Patrick and Joe discuss the wine list.
"Any preferences?" Patrick asks Pete, and. And, okay, they haven't all seen each other that much in recent years but surely. But, no, it's been mostly parties, not dinners.
"I don't drink anymore," Pete says, and they all look at him.
"Good for you, man," Andy finally says. "How long?"
"Four and a half years." Pete watches them do the math and figure it out. Since the divorce. The very messy divorce, complicated by cheating (her), drinking (him), and screaming (both of them). He lets the silence sit for a moment before he says, "But you go ahead."
Despite covering Bronx, Patrick's work, Joe's marriage, and Andy's anarchist ventures, they manage to avoid any other conversational land mines and it's almost like old times, except they're back at the hotel by eleven.
Pete calls Bronx and spends half an hour listening to stories from fifth grade before Ashlee makes Bronx hang up and get ready for bed.
Then he spends another two hours with his bass trying to get down what he needs to know. He has a feeling he's not going to sleep much anyway.
*
The next day is pretty much the same, except that Pete doesn't suck quite as bad, even if his fingers hurt like hell from where he doesn't have calluses anymore.
"Hey," Patrick says when they take an afternoon break, after Pete's checked in with Bronx via text, "you wanna get dinner tonight?"
"Yeah, sure, dude," Pete says. "Andy and Joe coming with us?"
"Thought it could be just us," Patrick says. "Get a chance to catch up."
"Awesome." Pete grins and feels better about all the songs he still can't play right.
*
They're staying in a really nice hotel, so after they split up for a bit so Patrick can get some work done and Pete can call Bronx, they meet back down in one of the hotel's restaurants. It's quiet, dimly lit, candles on the tables, and the maitre d' puts them at a somewhat secluded table in the corner.
Pete spends most of dinner laughing, and by the time they take the elevator back up to their floor, he's pretty sure nothing can make him stop grinning.
Patrick walks him to his door and they lean on either side of it, still talking, until Andy pokes his head out of his own room and says, "Dudes. Some of us are trying to sleep."
Patrick resettles his hat and nods. "I should." He points a thumb back toward his own room.
"Yeah, yeah." Pete ducks in and wraps his arms around Patrick. "See you in the morning." He presses a kiss to Patrick's cheek and then turns away and slides his keycard into the lock.
He sleeps deep and dreamless, and his giddiness takes him through practice the next day.
*
"Pizza and pay-per-view?" he asks Patrick when they're done for the day.
"Basic cable's not good enough for you? You're so Hollywood," Patrick teases.
Pete elbows him. "You know it, bitch. You in?"
"Yeah, I'm in."
Pete watches Patrick as they put things away, gather all their shit together. He's different now, more confident, more at ease with himself, more like he fits in his own body. Of course, Pete's more like that too, now, but he was always good at faking it in ways Patrick wasn't.
Patrick catches him watching and smiles, and that hasn't changed, the way Patrick has that one smile just for him. Pete smiles back and waits for Patrick to be done so they can go order pizza.
After he calls for pizza, he piles the pillows from both beds up against the headboard of the one right in front of the TV. Patrick kicks off his shoes, tosses his hat onto the other bed - another way he's changed - and settles in next to Pete. They actually don't end up watching pay-per-view. They find The Lost Boys on basic cable and just watch that.
When the pizza comes, they put it on the bed and sit up cross-legged to eat it. Pete finds himself watching the way Patrick licks sauce off of his fingers.
Pete puts the leftovers in the mini-fridge when they're done. When he comes back, he sits down close enough to Patrick to lean against him. Patrick wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer. Pete smiles without looking over at Patrick and tips his head down onto Patrick's shoulder.
Through the rest of the movie, Pete edges his way closer to Patrick so that by the time the credits roll, not only is his head on Patrick's shoulder, but his legs are draped over Patrick's lap, his arms are wrapped around Patrick, and his shoulder is pressed against Patrick's chest.
Patrick shifts enough to reach the remote and turns the TV off, and then he wraps his arms back around Pete and they just sit like that for a long time in the soft light of the lamp on the nightstand.
I think where this kept ending in my head was the next day/evening when they have a conversation where one of them asks, "Was that a date last night? And the night before?" Where I wanted it to end was at the concert with Bronx there watching from side stage.
anon_lovefest prompt in August that said, "Pete/Patrick. Pete and Patrick don't start dating until the long-defunct Fall Out Boy gets back together for a slightly awkward reunion show." I started writing it, but then I got stuck, partially because it kept coming to an end before I wanted it to. Rereading it now, I didn't even write down that too-early ending. Below is what I did write, and below that is a note about the ending it kept coming to and the one I originally wanted.So the thing is that Pete hasn't really played bass in years. Fall Out Boy was the only band he ever wanted, so after they decided there was no more Fall out Boy, he didn't go looking for a new band, or even take up any of the offers he had to do special guest spots with other bands. He focused on his record label, his clothing line, and his family.
Andy has never not been in a band the whole time Pete's known him, so he's in practice. Joe, too, found another band. And Patrick. Patrick, of course, sings even better now and plays more instruments.
So, yeah, Pete's the only one who doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, which is why he's the one who insists they all fly to New York a week before the show so they can practice.
It's not going well. They have to stop every few bars for Pete to catch up, and even if it's been years since he last spent every waking moment with them, he can tell all three of them are frustrated with him.
Patrick calls for the break.
"Sorry, dude," Pete says, but he's grateful for it. His fingers aren't used to this anymore either, and the skin is starting to feel sore and raw.
Patrick waves him off and sits down at his laptop. Joe and Andy wander off to find something to eat and catch up. Pete sits down on one of the practice space's couches and pulls out his phone to check his messages. What he really wants isn't there - it's still early in New York, even earlier in LA, and Bronx's school is strict about cell phone use during school hours. There are business things, though, and he deals with some of those before closing his phone and turning it over and over in his hands while he just looks at the familiar shape of Patrick with headphones bent over a laptop.
It's just like always, and it's totally different.
Pete gets up and walks across the space to the couch Patrick's on. He's not sure if he's allowed to do this anymore, but he's Pete Wentz, and he's never let that get in his way, so he sits down next to Patrick and leans his chin on Patrick's shoulder.
The corner of Patrick's mouth quirks up in a yes, hi kind of way, but he doesn't look up, and Pete figures that means it's okay. He's still there, watching Patrick do inexplicable but surely amazing things on his laptop, when Joe and Andy wander back in twenty minutes later.
Joe laughs and Andy says, "Just like always."
Patrick takes off his headphones, Pete gets off the couch, and they try practicing again.
He's got maybe two songs down when Patrick calls for the next break.
"Maybe," Patrick says very diplomatically, "we should let Joe and Andy get out of here for a while and just work on the bass parts."
Pete can feel his mouth twisting into something that could be either a pout or a sneer, and he tries to remember every trick every therapist has ever tried to teach him to derail his internal monologue of notgoodenoughnotgoodenoughnotgoodenough.
"It's fine," Patrick says, "okay? We can work on that for a while, and they can go do whatever."
Pete makes himself nod. "Yeah, yeah, sure dude." He holds up his phone. "Just let me."
"Yeah, sure." Patrick pulls out his own phone and steps away to give him privacy.
It's late enough now that there's a text on his phone from Bronx: how mny guitrsts 2 chng lt bulb?
Pete grins down at his phone and texts back: 12. 11 2 do it & 1 2 say cd do it bttr He snaps the phone closed and is still grinning when he steps closer to Patrick.
"Okay," Patrick says, "maybe we should just." He gestures at the couches, and Pete picks up his bass and sits next to him.
A couple of hours later, he has the first two songs down cold, and a good start on the next two, and Joe texts them both to suggest dinner.
So they go out, to a restaurant that's quiet enough that they can talk, and Patrick and Joe discuss the wine list.
"Any preferences?" Patrick asks Pete, and. And, okay, they haven't all seen each other that much in recent years but surely. But, no, it's been mostly parties, not dinners.
"I don't drink anymore," Pete says, and they all look at him.
"Good for you, man," Andy finally says. "How long?"
"Four and a half years." Pete watches them do the math and figure it out. Since the divorce. The very messy divorce, complicated by cheating (her), drinking (him), and screaming (both of them). He lets the silence sit for a moment before he says, "But you go ahead."
Despite covering Bronx, Patrick's work, Joe's marriage, and Andy's anarchist ventures, they manage to avoid any other conversational land mines and it's almost like old times, except they're back at the hotel by eleven.
Pete calls Bronx and spends half an hour listening to stories from fifth grade before Ashlee makes Bronx hang up and get ready for bed.
Then he spends another two hours with his bass trying to get down what he needs to know. He has a feeling he's not going to sleep much anyway.
*
The next day is pretty much the same, except that Pete doesn't suck quite as bad, even if his fingers hurt like hell from where he doesn't have calluses anymore.
"Hey," Patrick says when they take an afternoon break, after Pete's checked in with Bronx via text, "you wanna get dinner tonight?"
"Yeah, sure, dude," Pete says. "Andy and Joe coming with us?"
"Thought it could be just us," Patrick says. "Get a chance to catch up."
"Awesome." Pete grins and feels better about all the songs he still can't play right.
*
They're staying in a really nice hotel, so after they split up for a bit so Patrick can get some work done and Pete can call Bronx, they meet back down in one of the hotel's restaurants. It's quiet, dimly lit, candles on the tables, and the maitre d' puts them at a somewhat secluded table in the corner.
Pete spends most of dinner laughing, and by the time they take the elevator back up to their floor, he's pretty sure nothing can make him stop grinning.
Patrick walks him to his door and they lean on either side of it, still talking, until Andy pokes his head out of his own room and says, "Dudes. Some of us are trying to sleep."
Patrick resettles his hat and nods. "I should." He points a thumb back toward his own room.
"Yeah, yeah." Pete ducks in and wraps his arms around Patrick. "See you in the morning." He presses a kiss to Patrick's cheek and then turns away and slides his keycard into the lock.
He sleeps deep and dreamless, and his giddiness takes him through practice the next day.
*
"Pizza and pay-per-view?" he asks Patrick when they're done for the day.
"Basic cable's not good enough for you? You're so Hollywood," Patrick teases.
Pete elbows him. "You know it, bitch. You in?"
"Yeah, I'm in."
Pete watches Patrick as they put things away, gather all their shit together. He's different now, more confident, more at ease with himself, more like he fits in his own body. Of course, Pete's more like that too, now, but he was always good at faking it in ways Patrick wasn't.
Patrick catches him watching and smiles, and that hasn't changed, the way Patrick has that one smile just for him. Pete smiles back and waits for Patrick to be done so they can go order pizza.
After he calls for pizza, he piles the pillows from both beds up against the headboard of the one right in front of the TV. Patrick kicks off his shoes, tosses his hat onto the other bed - another way he's changed - and settles in next to Pete. They actually don't end up watching pay-per-view. They find The Lost Boys on basic cable and just watch that.
When the pizza comes, they put it on the bed and sit up cross-legged to eat it. Pete finds himself watching the way Patrick licks sauce off of his fingers.
Pete puts the leftovers in the mini-fridge when they're done. When he comes back, he sits down close enough to Patrick to lean against him. Patrick wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer. Pete smiles without looking over at Patrick and tips his head down onto Patrick's shoulder.
Through the rest of the movie, Pete edges his way closer to Patrick so that by the time the credits roll, not only is his head on Patrick's shoulder, but his legs are draped over Patrick's lap, his arms are wrapped around Patrick, and his shoulder is pressed against Patrick's chest.
Patrick shifts enough to reach the remote and turns the TV off, and then he wraps his arms back around Pete and they just sit like that for a long time in the soft light of the lamp on the nightstand.
I think where this kept ending in my head was the next day/evening when they have a conversation where one of them asks, "Was that a date last night? And the night before?" Where I wanted it to end was at the concert with Bronx there watching from side stage.