*PETERICK ONESHOT* Fall Out Boy just completed their tour with My Chemical Romance and Panic! At The Disco and they want to finish the night with a bang. What will happen when they decide to play a...
All the guys traipsed into the Fall Out Boy tour bus and slumped themselves down on the black leather sofa and carpeted floor, wrecked after an enthusiastic show.
“So what do you wanna do? This evening needs finished with a bigger bang than the show,” Brendon asked.
“How about a game? Like a Spin the Bottle, 7 Minutes in Heaven kinda game?” the small MCR guitarist, Frank, suggested.
Everyone seemed pleased with this arrangement (especially Gerard who was grinning hornily at Frank) except Patrick, who seemed almost intimidated by the idea. Patrick never was a fan of these games, especially when played with his bandmates. He’d never tell but he had a soft spot for his band’s bass player, Pete Wentz. Ever since the first day Patrick saw the glistening brown orbs Pete had for eyes, he knew something was going to change. But Patrick kept his mouth shut and went along with the game.
“So how are we gonna play this game? Mikey asked, Joe and Ray nodding in agreement.
“How about I spin the bottle,” Andy started, reaching for the beer bottle Spencer had just emptied. “And I’ll ask the chosen person ‘Heaven or Hell’, ‘Heaven’ being seven minutes in the bunks and ‘Hell’ being a dare?”
“Sounds good,” Pete said in his sexy tone that sent Patrick overboard. He was trying oh so desperately hard not to blush.
“Okay. No chickening out either,” Ray said, like he meant business as Andy spun the bottle.
“Oh hey Brendon!” Gerard smirked as the bottle landed on his dark sharp haired fellow singer. “Heaven or hell? What’s it gonna be?”
Brendon stroked his invisible beard as he deliberated about the life-changing decision.
“Alright, Urie,” said Bob as he looked from the sofa to the Panic! singer on the floor. “I want you to go outside and run around all three of our buses...” Bob paused.
“That’s supposed to be daring?” Brendon raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not done yet! You spoilt my dramatic pause!” Bob scowled. “Run round our three buses...” Bob leaned forward during his ‘dramatic pause’. “Naked.”
“Fine. I’ll be right back.”
Little did Brendon know (or remember) that there were still fans hanging about outside the buses, so when he strutted off the bus naked he didn’t just run around the buses, but was chased for about four laps.
Frank stood inside the bus with the door open, giggling, ready for a wheezing Brendon to enter. Spencer and Gerard were rolling on the floor with laughter, clutching their knees to their chests. Brendon scowled.
“Never ever again. Ever. Were you trying to get me killed, Bryar?” almost scared to go near Bob.
“I didn’t think it was that daring, to be perfectly honest, Brendon,” Bob smirked. Brendon stuck his tongue out while pulling on his jeans.
“Bob, care to do the honour?” Frank asked.
“My pleasure,” Bob reached out and spun the bottle at lightning speed. The bottle began to slow and stopped on one person – Patrick.
“Crap” he thought, beads of perspiration began to form on his brow. It was a good thing his cap covered it as Patrick was fumbling through a million thoughts. Yes, he wanted to get with Pete, but it would just be plain awkward – he was his best friend after all.
Not heaven, not heaven. I can’t. Pick. Heaven.
Noo! That was what I wasn’t supposed to say!
“Oh, someone’s feeling horny,” Ray jeered. Pete looked at Patrick with those big brown marble eyes and a lop-sided smile. Patrick couldn’t feel any worse right now.
“Spin it, Patrick,” Mikey urged, intrigued to find out what would happen next. Patrick’s shaky hand reached out and gave the bottle a small tap. For such a small tap it felt like an eternity.
Shiz. Crap. Eff. No. Flip. For Pete’s sake! Pete’s sake? Why Pete? Crap. Crap. Crap.
Pete. The empty Budweiser bottle pointed towards the sole of Pete’s Clandestine Industries sneaker and he looked up at Patrick. Patrick daren’t look back for risk of collapse. Why was Pete so amazingly attractive and Patrick was just...Patrick?
Pete ran his fingers through his black, poker-straight fringe and lifted himself up off the carpet. Patrick timidly followed.
What was going to happen? This could all go horribly wrong...
Patrick felt unable to control himself; how he had said “heaven” instead of “hell” and landed himself in this situation in the first place was the perfect example of lack of control.
Patrick pulled the door to the bunks closed behind him, so nobody was able to see his awkwardness. He sat down on one end of his top bunk; Pete sat at the other, his little legs up to his chest and perfect jaw resting on top.
“Well, this is awkward,” Pete broke the silence after about thirty seconds.
“You think?” Patrick replied, unable to meet his love’s dark crystal eyes.
“You’re trembling,” Pete sounded concerned and Patrick lifted his face. “And blushing...”
Patrick grabbed his crimson cheeks then realised he wasn’t the only one.
“So are you...” Patrick replied through the lump in his dry throat.
“Sh*t.” Pete looked uneasy, for such a cool guy.
“Look Patrick, I don’t wanna make things awkward between us but...y’know...” Patrick felt he should say something but was too desperate to hear the end of the sentence. “You know how I used to feel about Ashlee?”
“Yes. You were crazy; it was driving all four of us insane...” Patrick was cut off by Pete’s gushing confessional reply, face redder than ever.
“Well, I maybe kinda feel the same way about you...a little bit.”
Patrick thought he was dreaming. Pete-flippin’-beautiful-Wentz liked Patrick-just-Patrick-Stump?!
“Patrick? Patrick!” Pete was trying to get Patrick out of his dazed state. He was practically on Patrick’s knee before bringing him back to Earth.
Pete stopped and gazed under Patrick’s cap.
“You’ve got really nice eyes, Patrick,” Pete lifted the cap off his bandmate’s head. Patrick closed his “really nice eyes” and leaned forward until his slightly chapped lips met Pete’s incredibly soft ones. They were so soft; soft wet pillows of dark tanned flesh – like marshmallows: soft and spongy and incredibly sweet. Then Patrick could feel Pete’s marshmallow lips part, revealing an even sweeter tongue. It was sickeningly sweet, like a great big lollipop and Patrick treated it no differently than that. He swirled his tongue around Pete’s candy tongue as Pete pulled him closer to his muscular chest. Patrick broke off the deep kiss.
“Wow. I love you too Pete. I never thought this was an experience I’d be able to share with you,” Patrick confessed with his eyes as if they were physically connected to Pete’s.
“Patrick, I’ve been the same about you. The second I met you and was able to play with you I knew I was over Ash.”
Patrick just lay there on the thick sheets on his bunk, enjoying the first moments with Pete, prolonging them more and more.
“One minute,” Pete said looking at his watch.
“Let’s enjoy it,” Patrick said dreamily as Pete nestled his head under Patrick’s chin, his soft black locks tickling Patrick’s neck like a delicate feather. The two lay there in each others’ embrace until Brendon knocked on the door (rather politely, considering it was Brendon), indicating the end of the seven minutes. The newly matched couple left the bunks, showing no signs of the relationship.
“Have fun?” Mikey asked his friend Pete.
“What d’you get up to?” Spencer smirked.
Pete and Patrick refused to answer.
“They did it,” Gerard sounded adamant in his answer; Joe tried to hold back a smirk.
“Did you?” Andy asked his friends, almost concerned about their sexuality and how close they’d allegedly got.
“They clearly did,” Ray jeered at their silence.
“These are all good questions, but I guess we’ll never know...” Brendon said.
Pete and Patrick sat quietly out of the rest of the game and when they got back to the bunks later that night and their fellow musicians had returned to their own buses, the FOB guys fell straight to sleep. Except Pete. His bunk felt cold and empty and had to climb into Patrick’s bunk. Patrick smiled in his sleep and put his arm around Pete for the best night’s sleep they’d ever had.