Pete's nudes get leaked to the internet. Mikey is an idiot who shouldn't be allowed on Google. Pete/Mikey (14/07/12: minor edits)
This story was inspired by this right here which led to this which spawned this
(You don't have to look at those to understand this, it's just me and my friend Ffion being crazy, but it's pretty funny in my humble opinion.)
Also, in case anyone's interested- FOB actually did play a secret show at The Knitting Factory in New York. Mikey actually did attend, and he played Dance, Dance with them. And the stage dive thing is factual too. So is the timing of the show in relation to the leaking of Petey's n00dz. (I made the rest up though)
By the way, this is literally the dirtiest thing I've ever written. So, um, enjoy.
“So, we’re in New York,” Pete had told Mikey over the phone. “We’re playing a secret show tonight at the Knitting Factory. You wanna come? I can get you on the VIP list.”
That was how Mikey ended up on the side of the stage, having just played Dance, Dance with his friends from Fall Out Boy, watching Pete do a stage dive and watching as no one, not a single person, moved to catch him.
Joe must have caught the stunned look on Mikey’s face. He wandered over casually as Pete clambered to his feet and back onstage, trying not to look embarrassed.
“What was that?!” Mikey asked, his shock apparent in his voice. “What just happened?!”
Joe’s face was torn between sympathy and amusement. “Pictures of Pete’s dick just got leaked to the internet. Most of the people here probably saw it.”
“Oh,” said Mikey. This was the first he’d heard about it. He struggled not to scrunch his face up in disgust, because, well, poor Pete. “That...um...sucks.”
“It does,” Joe agreed, shaking his head and chuckling. “I don’t know why the fuck he took the pictures in the first place, but, y’know... He’s Pete. And Pete will do what Pete does.”
And with that final wise-sounding yet totally inane statement, Joe returned to his former place on the stage, head banging to the beat.
Mikey wanted to talk to Pete after the concert was done and the crowd had dispersed, but he didn’t.
It kind of made him feel like a shitty friend. He wanted to go see if Pete was okay, but he was feeling awkward and he didn’t know what to say and for whatever reason it wasn’t just that he wanted to see if Pete was okay, he wanted to console him. He wanted to wrap him all up in his arms and make sure he knew everything was going to be fine, and this was a very, very strange feeling; and so, instead of acting on it, or even going to see if he was okay, he watched from the bar as Patrick spoke quietly to Pete, leaning in concernedly. Pete was nodding in a tired sort of way, and then he tipped forward slightly and rested his head on Patrick’s shoulder.
Patrick’s got it under control, Mikey decided, and so he threw the rest of his cocktail back and left without saying goodbye.
When Mikey got home he wasn’t tired. Unable to think of anything else to do, he plopped himself down in front of the TV. But there was nothing good on, and Mikey couldn’t quite focus on the screen in front of him. Then, for some reason, his mind drifted back to his conversation with Joe earlier.
Before he quite knew what he was doing or why the fuck he was doing it, he had grabbed his laptop and opened Google.
He typed “pete wentz penis” into the search bar.
His finger hovered over the enter key.
Why the fuck not? he thought. One little peek couldn’t hurt.
He hit enter.
The results loaded.
And then Mikey screeched.
Holy shit Joe wasn’t kidding.
Letting out another incredibly high-pitched shriek, he slammed the lid of the laptop closed. He barely restrained himself from chucking it across the room; instead he settled for tossing it onto the couch, then chucking a pillow on top of it and backing away. He stood staring at it for a moment as if it was going to leap out from under the pillow and attack him or something.
After a while, he attempted to go back to watching TV, but his brain kept straying back to the image he had just seen and he couldn’t focus, and eventually he gave up, went to bed, and somehow fell asleep.
There were many things Mikey was expecting as a result of his disastrous Google search. He was expecting to be scarred for life. He was expecting to need shittons of therapy. He was expecting to never be able to look Pete in the eye again.
He was not expecting to wake up with cum-filled boxers.
Yet that is exactly what ended up happening.
It didn’t even register at first. The first thing that registered was that he’d been dreaming about Pete, which wasn’t really that uncommon, if he was going to be honest.
Then he rolled over, and the second he made this motion he realized. Well shit, he thought blearily. Wet dream.
He stripped off his boxers and headed for the bathroom, feeling vaguely puzzled. He had heard from Gerard how panicky he’d felt when he realized that he liked Frank, yet even when he ended up masturbating in the shower to thoughts of Pete’s dick, he felt only bemusement; instead of feeling any kind of panic whatsoever, he found himself looking down at his growing erection feeling almost confused as to how it had come to be.
It wasn’t until he subconsciously moaned Pete’s name as he came all over himself that he began to get worried.
Later that day, the phone rang. Mikey groaned when he checked the caller ID and saw Peter Pan, but he answered it anyway.
“Heyyyyy!” said Pete cheerfully the second Mikey picked up. “Mikeyway! My man!”
“Oh my god,” Mikey said, rolling his eyes and grinning. “You sound like a douchebag.”
“Love you too, Mikes,” said Pete. “But enough of this pointless babble! We’re wasting precious time! I have a free day here, man, let’s take advantage of this!”
“Wait, you do?”
“Yes. And I command you to come hang out with me.”
There was a strange tugging feeling in the pit of Mikey’s stomach. “Um,” he said. “Okay. What do you have in mind?”
“Starbucks? Seriously?” Mikey raised his eyebrows at Pete as he approached. “You can go to Starbucks anywhere.”
“Yeah, I know,” Pete grinned. “But I know how much you love your Starbucks, so I figured I’d treat you.”
“Wow, what a gentleman,” said Mikey sarcastically.
Pete laughed, socking him in the arm. “Shut up and let me buy you a fuckin’ coffee.”
“”Venti white chocolate mocha soy frappuccino with raspberry syrup and extra whip”?” said Mikey disbelievingly as they walked out of the Starbucks ten minutes later, beverages in hand. “What the hell even is that?”
“Fucking delicious is what it is,” Pete responded. “You should try this shit.”
“No thanks, princess, that stuff goes straight to your thighs,” Mikey said bitingly. He smirked into his own drink as Pete gave him an exaggerated glare and swatted at him.
“You suck,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his mocha-soy-frap-whatever-the-fuck-it-was. “This is delicious. And I may be a princess, but have you looked in a mirror recently? You, too, are a princess, Mikeyway.”
“Screw you, I’m manly as hell,” Mikey laughed. He took a gulp of his coffee (black; dark roast; manly as fuck) just to prove a point, and ended up choking on it. Pete didn’t say anything. He just looked smug.
They ended up back at Mikey’s place playing video games, and that was when the problem really started.
He had just run out of lives in whatever shitty game they were playing, and Pete laughed at him for a minute before going back to trying to defeat one of the CPU players. Mikey jabbed him sulkily in the ribs with his foot a couple of time, but Pete paid no attention, so he stopped.
He started out watching the game on the screen, but that somehow turned into watching Pete. He was concentrating fiercely, leaning forward slightly, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth, and Mikey thought vaguely that he looked really hot, and then he wondered where the hell that had come from, and then suddenly all he could think about was Pete’s dick.
He let out a horrified squeak. Oh shit, no, not now, fuck...
Pete paused his game and looked over at him. “You okay there, Mikeyway?”
“Y-yeah. Yeah,” Mikey managed, looking anywhere but at him. Pete stared at him for a moment, but shrugged and went back to playing.
Mikey spent the next half hour desperately thinking about dead kittens.
It only got worse as the day progressed. Mikey could barely keep his eyes off of Pete, but when he looked at Pete all he could think about was Pete’s cock, and he had to run for the bathroom several times. Luckily, Pete didn’t seem suspicious, merely making jokes about Mikey having a small bladder, but Mikey was totally freaking out.
Maybe, when he thought about it, he’d always kind of felt this way about Pete somewhere in the back of his mind, but Jesus, that fucking Google search had really brought it out. It was one thing that he’d maybe always been sort of attracted to Pete, but now he pretty much just wanted to pin him down and fuck his brains out.
So that was how the day was spent- Pete played dumb video games and watched movies and various other things, and Mikey pretended to do those things too, but mostly he just concentrated on not ravishing Pete right then and there.
They ordered a pizza for dinner; cheese, party size, because despite his skinny frame, Mikey could and would eat a fuckton of pizza, and because when they’d been looking at the takeout menu, Pete had stated that they should get a party size because “everyday’s a party when I’m with you, Mikeyway.” (Mikey had laughed weakly and hated Pete a little bit for being so awesome and perfect and, suddenly, irresistible.)
They sat on the couch to eat, legs entangled in a way that Mikey found extremely unhelpful. That was when he knew it had gotten out of hand- when the way Pete’s foot was bumping his knee was hot and every bite he took looked sexual. He was just glad Pete was focused on his food and not him (or his crotch).
“Thanks for the pizza, Mikey Mouse,” said Pete after he finished the last slice. He licked some tomato sauce off his fingers, and Mikey finally lost it. Before he could stop himself, he leaned over and grabbed the back of Pete’s head and pressed their lips together.
Pete let out a startled little squeak and Mikey, cursing his shitty self-control, went to pull away and apologize. But then Pete curled his hand into Mikey’s hair and kissed him back. Mikey stayed right where he was.
Before long, they were full-on making out. Mikey, sensing no resistance, had pinned Pete down, and he was about to go for his zipper when Pete pulled away.
“Hey,” he said. “So. Um. What the fuck?”
Mikey was going to say something suave and smooth, but when he opened his mouth, what came out was, “I saw your dick on the internet and now I want to have sex with you.”
“Oh,” said Pete blankly.
Mikey just looked at him expectantly. He slowly smirked.
“I could live with that,” he said. “But your internet privileges are revoked. Because seriously, man, what the fuck.”
Mikey laughed and kissed Pete again. Pete responded whole-heartedly, and Mikey couldn’t stand it any longer- he reached down and palmed at Pete through his jeans and fuck, yes, there it was, in the flesh. Pete moaned into Mikey’s mouth, and he tasted like pizza and, faintly, raspberry, which couldn’t have been left over from Starbucks earlier, and did he just taste like raspberries all the time?
Maybe Mikey would find out.
A/N: Ugh. As usual, shitty ending sorry. >:[
anywho, please rate and review?
(omfg that rhymed XD)