Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Ownership
“Whatcha want, Pete? Frank said you were looking for me.” I drawl restlessly, slumping down in the chair opposite the black-haired boy at his table in the school library. “Make it quick, mind; I’m meant to be in detention right now.”
He looks up at me from where he’d been transfixed on his fancy cell phone, no doubt texting my baby brother. Again. The two are always either joined at the hip or discussing all new ways to hang out with each other more often. Like last week, Pete slept over at ours three nights in a row and then insisted on returning the favour by taking Mikes home with him. They now practically live in one another’s pockets, Mikey more the one to be pocketed and Pete the actual pocket, but still. It was kind of cute to begin with, but now it’s just getting downright creepy. Frank, however, finds it adorable.
But then again, Frank’s opinion can’t be much trusted on anything. Silly bastard thinks that Mikes has something going on with Pete. Ha.
I’ve seen kormas with a spicier love-life than my baby brother.
“Oh, yeah. Hi, man.” He smirks a little, something that I think most people are meant to find charming, and slides his cell into his pocket as though he’s hiding a dirty little secret. Knowing Pete Wentz, he probably is. “Look, um, I’m only asking you this because it means a lot to Mikey and I want to do this properly and, like, please don’t punch me, but can I, well…”
“Spit it out, Wentz.” I snap, hiding my amusement at the King of Confidence stumbling over his words around me. “C’mon, I don’t have all day.”
He takes a deep breath, deep eyes looking everywhere other than me. Good. I like watching people like Pete squirm; it’s kinda like burning ants under a magnifying glass.
“Can I date your brother?”
“What?”
He blushes the same shade as those obnoxiously plastic-y Twizzlers he’s always chewing on and gives me the cheesiest smile I think I’ve ever seen.
Seriously, this whole thing makes me want to puke up rainbows. The way he’s ringing his hands where he’d normally be tapping out some sort of tune on the table, the way his eyes are darting around like meagre minnows instead of bursting with arrogance, the way he’s acting so utterly lovesick. It’s fucking pathetic.
And it sure as hell isn’t going to get him my baby brother.
“Can I date Mikey?” He asks again once my head has stopped spinning and he’s sure I’m not going to decapitate him with my surprisingly sharp nails. At least, I don’t think I am. “Please?”
He might be acting like some sort of gentleman right now, but I know better than to take this at face-value. He’s only being like this to increase his chances of getting into my baby brother, quite literally. Of getting into the shy little fifteen-year-old who really doesn’t the school heartbreaker ruining the happiness he’s currently got going for him.
Because of Pete.
I gawp at him as though he’s just sprouted wings and scan him for any sign of insincerity, of anything that could possibly lead to him hurting my baby brother. As disappointed as I am to admit that I can’t find anything on the cocky bastard, I can’t help but think this might just give me the opportunity to find out more about my baby brother’s best friend and would-be lover. And catch the fucker out in the process.
“Hell no!” I all but yell, earning us a heated glare from the librarian. “You’ll hurt him, Pete.”
“I’ll be gentle with him the first time, I promise!” I face-palm at what he thinks is the obvious solution to a completely different problem to the one I was considering; this is a different issue entirely. And one that he wants to steer well clear of if he hopes to still have a dick by the end of lunch. “Look, if you’re that worried about it, I’ll let him top first time.”
He fixes me with what I think is meant to be a reassuring smile. I just groan, wondering why God so clearly hates me.
“What?”
“I meant emotionally, fucktard!” I squeal, tone wrapped tightly in disgusted frustration because, well, Mikey’s Mikey; innocent and fragile and just a baby. Not Pete Wentz’s mindless object of lust. “You’ll break his heart, not his ass!”
“Oh.” He lets out a sheepish chuckle, running a hand over his neck in an awkward gesture that I’d normally place with my brother; not with this arrogant asshole. “I knew that! I was just kidding with you, Gee. ‘Course I was.” His voice is drenched with so much fakery that if personified, I’m certain it would be a cheerleader. And that in itself is enough to send alarm bells whirring about him for me. “But I wouldn’t do either of those things. I, well, I really do love Mikey, Gerard. And I think, I hope, he loves me back.”
I briefly glance at my watch to see that I’m already ten minutes late for detention, but I quickly wipe that small concern away. What’s an angry teacher when my baby brother’s heart and happiness hang in the balance? Jack shit, that’s what.
Because Pete’s sudden seriousness and undoubtable belief in what he’s just said honestly does get through to me. He just sounds so, I don’t know, desperate? Like he’s begging for me to spare his life, not just give him the go ahead to be with my brother. He looks as though I’m about to either end his world or turn it into his own personal heaven. It’s such a look that forces me to at least consider his suitability. If not for him, for my baby brother who never stops talking about the seventeen-year-old douche bag. And grinning like an idiot whilst he does so.
“Okay, Wentz, okay.” I swallow past my thoughts and lean back in my chair, trying my best to look as intimidatingly business-like as possible in the middle of the bakery and crafts section of a school library. “Say you do love my brother; tell me where you’d take him on your first date?”
Our eyes lock and his flash with understanding; the game is on.
His face splits into a smile so wide and dreamy that it makes candyfloss seem sour in comparison.
“I’d take him to my tree house. It’s in my backyard in an old blossom tree; I know how much Mikey loves looking at the blossom. We could sit there reading comics and snuggling, looking at the blossom.” He pauses in thought, everything about him exuding the idea that this kind of event would be better than anything else he could spend his time doing. “And I’d get my mom to bring us sushi, especially the kind with all the avocado in, because that’s his absolute favourite.”
I’m shocked. Truly, intensely shocked because, if I’m going to be entirely honest, I would have thought he’d say something stupid and clichéd, like taking him to the cinema or out for a pizza. But no; Pete Wentz has just described something that is so purely Mikey that I just can’t find fault in it. Everything about the date plan is based around my baby brother, from sharing a piece of his childhood with Mikes to the sushi, everything is for my brother. None of it solely for Pete, all for Mikey.
Wow. Maybe he does care.
“To be Mikey’s boyfriend, you’ve got to be able to look after him.” My tone is very matter-of-fact, letting him know that this just got serious; it has. My brother’s safety and happiness mean more to me than my own. Always have done, always will do. “So what do you do if someone’s picking on him?”
“Punch the fu-“ He catches himself, a scary glint of honest-to-God fury seeping into his eyes, and takes a second to compose himself, leaving me intrigued as to what a better answer could possibly be. “Take Mikes away, make sure he’s alright, snuggle him and then go back to punch the bastard right in his fucking face.”
There’s something about the way he says it that strikes a deep chord in my black little heart; I always punch first, look after later. Something that should be done Pete’s way round, now that I think about it. But that doesn’t mean he’s won me over. Very nearly, I’ll give him that, but not quite.
“What about if he has a nightmare?”
“Wake him up and just snuggle him until he knows that he’s safe.” He pauses, something about his whole demeanour making think that he’s talking from experience. “He likes it when you rub his tummy and sing him your Grandma’s old lullaby, helps him to calm down.”
I didn’t think Mikey ever told anyone about that, about that secret little tune that Grandma Elena made up just for us, all those years ago when we slept around her house for the first time and got scared of her big old Grandfather Clock’s ticking. And just the fact that he lets Pete close enough when he has a nightmare for Pete to be able to rub his tummy means that he must trust him a hell of a lot. Too much for me to ruin this for him.
But there’s just one more thing I’ve got to ask before I let my brother grow up.
“And what will you do if I say no?”
He smirks, his usual cocky nature coming to light once more.
“Date him anyway. I love him too much not to. And you can’t stop that.”
“I don’t want to.”
A/N: So at around one this morning this idea popped into my head, I slept on it and this came out. Not great, I know, but I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think and thanks for reading! :)
“Whatcha want, Pete? Frank said you were looking for me.” I drawl restlessly, slumping down in the chair opposite the black-haired boy at his table in the school library. “Make it quick, mind; I’m meant to be in detention right now.”
He looks up at me from where he’d been transfixed on his fancy cell phone, no doubt texting my baby brother. Again. The two are always either joined at the hip or discussing all new ways to hang out with each other more often. Like last week, Pete slept over at ours three nights in a row and then insisted on returning the favour by taking Mikes home with him. They now practically live in one another’s pockets, Mikey more the one to be pocketed and Pete the actual pocket, but still. It was kind of cute to begin with, but now it’s just getting downright creepy. Frank, however, finds it adorable.
But then again, Frank’s opinion can’t be much trusted on anything. Silly bastard thinks that Mikes has something going on with Pete. Ha.
I’ve seen kormas with a spicier love-life than my baby brother.
“Oh, yeah. Hi, man.” He smirks a little, something that I think most people are meant to find charming, and slides his cell into his pocket as though he’s hiding a dirty little secret. Knowing Pete Wentz, he probably is. “Look, um, I’m only asking you this because it means a lot to Mikey and I want to do this properly and, like, please don’t punch me, but can I, well…”
“Spit it out, Wentz.” I snap, hiding my amusement at the King of Confidence stumbling over his words around me. “C’mon, I don’t have all day.”
He takes a deep breath, deep eyes looking everywhere other than me. Good. I like watching people like Pete squirm; it’s kinda like burning ants under a magnifying glass.
“Can I date your brother?”
“What?”
He blushes the same shade as those obnoxiously plastic-y Twizzlers he’s always chewing on and gives me the cheesiest smile I think I’ve ever seen.
Seriously, this whole thing makes me want to puke up rainbows. The way he’s ringing his hands where he’d normally be tapping out some sort of tune on the table, the way his eyes are darting around like meagre minnows instead of bursting with arrogance, the way he’s acting so utterly lovesick. It’s fucking pathetic.
And it sure as hell isn’t going to get him my baby brother.
“Can I date Mikey?” He asks again once my head has stopped spinning and he’s sure I’m not going to decapitate him with my surprisingly sharp nails. At least, I don’t think I am. “Please?”
He might be acting like some sort of gentleman right now, but I know better than to take this at face-value. He’s only being like this to increase his chances of getting into my baby brother, quite literally. Of getting into the shy little fifteen-year-old who really doesn’t the school heartbreaker ruining the happiness he’s currently got going for him.
Because of Pete.
I gawp at him as though he’s just sprouted wings and scan him for any sign of insincerity, of anything that could possibly lead to him hurting my baby brother. As disappointed as I am to admit that I can’t find anything on the cocky bastard, I can’t help but think this might just give me the opportunity to find out more about my baby brother’s best friend and would-be lover. And catch the fucker out in the process.
“Hell no!” I all but yell, earning us a heated glare from the librarian. “You’ll hurt him, Pete.”
“I’ll be gentle with him the first time, I promise!” I face-palm at what he thinks is the obvious solution to a completely different problem to the one I was considering; this is a different issue entirely. And one that he wants to steer well clear of if he hopes to still have a dick by the end of lunch. “Look, if you’re that worried about it, I’ll let him top first time.”
He fixes me with what I think is meant to be a reassuring smile. I just groan, wondering why God so clearly hates me.
“What?”
“I meant emotionally, fucktard!” I squeal, tone wrapped tightly in disgusted frustration because, well, Mikey’s Mikey; innocent and fragile and just a baby. Not Pete Wentz’s mindless object of lust. “You’ll break his heart, not his ass!”
“Oh.” He lets out a sheepish chuckle, running a hand over his neck in an awkward gesture that I’d normally place with my brother; not with this arrogant asshole. “I knew that! I was just kidding with you, Gee. ‘Course I was.” His voice is drenched with so much fakery that if personified, I’m certain it would be a cheerleader. And that in itself is enough to send alarm bells whirring about him for me. “But I wouldn’t do either of those things. I, well, I really do love Mikey, Gerard. And I think, I hope, he loves me back.”
I briefly glance at my watch to see that I’m already ten minutes late for detention, but I quickly wipe that small concern away. What’s an angry teacher when my baby brother’s heart and happiness hang in the balance? Jack shit, that’s what.
Because Pete’s sudden seriousness and undoubtable belief in what he’s just said honestly does get through to me. He just sounds so, I don’t know, desperate? Like he’s begging for me to spare his life, not just give him the go ahead to be with my brother. He looks as though I’m about to either end his world or turn it into his own personal heaven. It’s such a look that forces me to at least consider his suitability. If not for him, for my baby brother who never stops talking about the seventeen-year-old douche bag. And grinning like an idiot whilst he does so.
“Okay, Wentz, okay.” I swallow past my thoughts and lean back in my chair, trying my best to look as intimidatingly business-like as possible in the middle of the bakery and crafts section of a school library. “Say you do love my brother; tell me where you’d take him on your first date?”
Our eyes lock and his flash with understanding; the game is on.
His face splits into a smile so wide and dreamy that it makes candyfloss seem sour in comparison.
“I’d take him to my tree house. It’s in my backyard in an old blossom tree; I know how much Mikey loves looking at the blossom. We could sit there reading comics and snuggling, looking at the blossom.” He pauses in thought, everything about him exuding the idea that this kind of event would be better than anything else he could spend his time doing. “And I’d get my mom to bring us sushi, especially the kind with all the avocado in, because that’s his absolute favourite.”
I’m shocked. Truly, intensely shocked because, if I’m going to be entirely honest, I would have thought he’d say something stupid and clichéd, like taking him to the cinema or out for a pizza. But no; Pete Wentz has just described something that is so purely Mikey that I just can’t find fault in it. Everything about the date plan is based around my baby brother, from sharing a piece of his childhood with Mikes to the sushi, everything is for my brother. None of it solely for Pete, all for Mikey.
Wow. Maybe he does care.
“To be Mikey’s boyfriend, you’ve got to be able to look after him.” My tone is very matter-of-fact, letting him know that this just got serious; it has. My brother’s safety and happiness mean more to me than my own. Always have done, always will do. “So what do you do if someone’s picking on him?”
“Punch the fu-“ He catches himself, a scary glint of honest-to-God fury seeping into his eyes, and takes a second to compose himself, leaving me intrigued as to what a better answer could possibly be. “Take Mikes away, make sure he’s alright, snuggle him and then go back to punch the bastard right in his fucking face.”
There’s something about the way he says it that strikes a deep chord in my black little heart; I always punch first, look after later. Something that should be done Pete’s way round, now that I think about it. But that doesn’t mean he’s won me over. Very nearly, I’ll give him that, but not quite.
“What about if he has a nightmare?”
“Wake him up and just snuggle him until he knows that he’s safe.” He pauses, something about his whole demeanour making think that he’s talking from experience. “He likes it when you rub his tummy and sing him your Grandma’s old lullaby, helps him to calm down.”
I didn’t think Mikey ever told anyone about that, about that secret little tune that Grandma Elena made up just for us, all those years ago when we slept around her house for the first time and got scared of her big old Grandfather Clock’s ticking. And just the fact that he lets Pete close enough when he has a nightmare for Pete to be able to rub his tummy means that he must trust him a hell of a lot. Too much for me to ruin this for him.
But there’s just one more thing I’ve got to ask before I let my brother grow up.
“And what will you do if I say no?”
He smirks, his usual cocky nature coming to light once more.
“Date him anyway. I love him too much not to. And you can’t stop that.”
“I don’t want to.”
A/N: So at around one this morning this idea popped into my head, I slept on it and this came out. Not great, I know, but I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think and thanks for reading! :)
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