Fic: Every Time We Touch (pete/patrick)
Sep. 22nd, 2007 11:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
why_me_why_notHappy Saturday! I figured I'd better post some Pete/Patrick, b/c I don't want ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alli_everyday to pout at me when I text her on Monday morning. It isn't the porn though, alli, sorry. Maybe tomorrow?
Every Time We Touch
written bywhy_me_why_not
~850 words, PG
Summary: Patrick's the last to notice when Pete stops touching him.
A/N: alli told me not to write this one and I don't listen well. it was originally meant to be written for her birthday, which was more than a month ago, but I fail at punctuality. betad byirisgirl12000
Patrick's the last to notice when Pete stops touching him.
He's had this restless feeling for weeks now, that something's missing or some part of his life has gone slightly off-kilter, but he's got a dozen of handy excuses for the feeling, and only one or two of them actually involve Pete. Then he's checking up on the responses that Pete's been handing out on the website Q&A (someone has to) and he's startled to see someone's asked if Pete and Patrick are fighting because they never seem to touch anymore.
Patrick thinks about it for a moment before he reads Pete's reply. Pete hasn't been touching him. He's been staying in his own space on stage, which is decidedly unlike him, and in recent group photos, Joe and Andy have been a consistent barrier between them. Now that it's been brought to his attention, Patrick feels guilty for not noticing it on his own.
Pete's answer on the board is the cryptic, grammatically-challenged Pete-equivalent of "everything's cool between us; Patrick and I get our quality touching time off stage," which is complete bullshit, because Pete isn't touching him off stage. Pete isn't touching him at all.
And it's just him, Patrick muses as he pulls his hat lower over his eyes and leans against the wall. Pete's still as affectionately -- and obnoxiously -- invading everyone else's space.
Patrick wonders if he's done something to piss Pete off more than usual -- tempers are already high since they're practically living in each other's back pockets -- or if this is just one of those Pete Wentz Mindgames. Patrick learned long ago that life with Pete could be like that, the unwritten rules changing as soon as Patrick thinks he's gotten them figured out.
When he sits down next to Pete, Pete edges just a bit away and wraps his arms around himself. Patrick knows it's a concentrated effort not to touch him, because Pete is such a naturally tactile person, and it hurts but it also pisses him off.
"Fuck, Pete, what the hell is your problem?" Patrick demands roughly.
Pete sighs like it's a major deal or an inconvenience, and Patrick doesn't know if that's the question or the closeness. "Why do I have to be the one with the problem?"
"No, I just... just tell me what I did that's so bad, so I can apologize or fix it or whatever! Jesus fuck! What have I done that you can barely stand to be near me, much less touch me?"
There's no humor in Pete's laugh. "You've got it wrong, Trick. I like touching you. More than I should, actually, more than I have a right to. And it's getting harder and harder to pull away now, so..."
"God, Pete, why didn't you just say something?"
"Because you would've let me! You would've let me keep on hugging you and kissing you on stage and sitting in your lap and everything else, because you're Patrick and you're my best friend and it wouldn't have meant shit!"
Pete jumps up off the couch and storms off, leaving Patrick staring after him. He's not sure how he -- how they managed to fuck this up so royally, but he knows they have to find a way to fix it.
He just doesn't know how.
Two nights later, he wakes from a nightmare he barely remembers, even though he knows it was about something happening to Pete. He tells himself that he's going to Pete because the lingering fear makes him feel like a stupid kid and Pete is guaranteed to give him the proper amount of shit to make the uneasy feelings dissipate.
When Pete opens the door of his room, though, Patrick can't think of what he was going to say. He can see Pete's okay, which he already logically knew, but he really wants -- needs -- to feel him, alive and warm and breathing under his fingers.
Pete's staring at him expectantly, one hand on the door and the other on the doorframe, sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his bare chest taunting Patrick.
Patrick takes a deep breath and says quietly, "It means something."
"What?"
Patrick pushes Pete into the room, letting the door swing shut behind them, and wraps his arms around him. "Every time we touch, it means something." He presses a small, chaste kiss to Pete's lips.
"Quit playing." There's a small bit of hope underlying the edge in Pete's voice, even as he tries to push Patrick away.
"M'not playing," Patrick mumbles against Pete's skin. "Games are your thing." He nuzzles Pete's neck. "This means I'm sorry about this whole fucked up situation." Slides one hand down Pete's arm and circles his wrist. "This means I like having you touch me." Leans in to rest his forehead against Pete's, holding his gaze steady. "And this means I'm pretty damn sure I love you."
Patrick holds his breath, waiting for Pete to say something, and he's startled by the sudden burst of laughter. Next thing he knows, he and Pete are tangled together, laughing, and it feels normal, happy, and Patrick realizes that this is what he's been missing the last few weeks.
alli_everyday to pout at me when I text her on Monday morning. It isn't the porn though, alli, sorry. Maybe tomorrow? Every Time We Touch
written by
why_me_why_not~850 words, PG
Summary: Patrick's the last to notice when Pete stops touching him.
A/N: alli told me not to write this one and I don't listen well. it was originally meant to be written for her birthday, which was more than a month ago, but I fail at punctuality. betad by
irisgirl12000Patrick's the last to notice when Pete stops touching him.
He's had this restless feeling for weeks now, that something's missing or some part of his life has gone slightly off-kilter, but he's got a dozen of handy excuses for the feeling, and only one or two of them actually involve Pete. Then he's checking up on the responses that Pete's been handing out on the website Q&A (someone has to) and he's startled to see someone's asked if Pete and Patrick are fighting because they never seem to touch anymore.
Patrick thinks about it for a moment before he reads Pete's reply. Pete hasn't been touching him. He's been staying in his own space on stage, which is decidedly unlike him, and in recent group photos, Joe and Andy have been a consistent barrier between them. Now that it's been brought to his attention, Patrick feels guilty for not noticing it on his own.
Pete's answer on the board is the cryptic, grammatically-challenged Pete-equivalent of "everything's cool between us; Patrick and I get our quality touching time off stage," which is complete bullshit, because Pete isn't touching him off stage. Pete isn't touching him at all.
And it's just him, Patrick muses as he pulls his hat lower over his eyes and leans against the wall. Pete's still as affectionately -- and obnoxiously -- invading everyone else's space.
Patrick wonders if he's done something to piss Pete off more than usual -- tempers are already high since they're practically living in each other's back pockets -- or if this is just one of those Pete Wentz Mindgames. Patrick learned long ago that life with Pete could be like that, the unwritten rules changing as soon as Patrick thinks he's gotten them figured out.
When he sits down next to Pete, Pete edges just a bit away and wraps his arms around himself. Patrick knows it's a concentrated effort not to touch him, because Pete is such a naturally tactile person, and it hurts but it also pisses him off.
"Fuck, Pete, what the hell is your problem?" Patrick demands roughly.
Pete sighs like it's a major deal or an inconvenience, and Patrick doesn't know if that's the question or the closeness. "Why do I have to be the one with the problem?"
"No, I just... just tell me what I did that's so bad, so I can apologize or fix it or whatever! Jesus fuck! What have I done that you can barely stand to be near me, much less touch me?"
There's no humor in Pete's laugh. "You've got it wrong, Trick. I like touching you. More than I should, actually, more than I have a right to. And it's getting harder and harder to pull away now, so..."
"God, Pete, why didn't you just say something?"
"Because you would've let me! You would've let me keep on hugging you and kissing you on stage and sitting in your lap and everything else, because you're Patrick and you're my best friend and it wouldn't have meant shit!"
Pete jumps up off the couch and storms off, leaving Patrick staring after him. He's not sure how he -- how they managed to fuck this up so royally, but he knows they have to find a way to fix it.
He just doesn't know how.
Two nights later, he wakes from a nightmare he barely remembers, even though he knows it was about something happening to Pete. He tells himself that he's going to Pete because the lingering fear makes him feel like a stupid kid and Pete is guaranteed to give him the proper amount of shit to make the uneasy feelings dissipate.
When Pete opens the door of his room, though, Patrick can't think of what he was going to say. He can see Pete's okay, which he already logically knew, but he really wants -- needs -- to feel him, alive and warm and breathing under his fingers.
Pete's staring at him expectantly, one hand on the door and the other on the doorframe, sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his bare chest taunting Patrick.
Patrick takes a deep breath and says quietly, "It means something."
"What?"
Patrick pushes Pete into the room, letting the door swing shut behind them, and wraps his arms around him. "Every time we touch, it means something." He presses a small, chaste kiss to Pete's lips.
"Quit playing." There's a small bit of hope underlying the edge in Pete's voice, even as he tries to push Patrick away.
"M'not playing," Patrick mumbles against Pete's skin. "Games are your thing." He nuzzles Pete's neck. "This means I'm sorry about this whole fucked up situation." Slides one hand down Pete's arm and circles his wrist. "This means I like having you touch me." Leans in to rest his forehead against Pete's, holding his gaze steady. "And this means I'm pretty damn sure I love you."
Patrick holds his breath, waiting for Pete to say something, and he's startled by the sudden burst of laughter. Next thing he knows, he and Pete are tangled together, laughing, and it feels normal, happy, and Patrick realizes that this is what he's been missing the last few weeks.
