Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance

Eating In

by DisenchatedDestroya 2 reviews

Pete shows Mikey the merits of eating in. Short PIKEY one-shot. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Characters: Gerard Way,Mikey Way - Published: 2012-05-15 - Updated: 2012-05-15 - 808 words - Complete

Eating In

“I’m sorry, Pete.” Mikey mumbles into his plate of untouched chicken Chow Mein, tone about as sullen as his wavering little face. “I know I’m a fuck-up.”

At the morose little squeak that I don’t think I was meant to hear, I throw my empty carton of sweet ’n’ sour onto my grubby carpet and fill the empty space in my lap with my boyfriend; a certain Mr Mikey Way. The skinny fifteen-year-old instantaneously nestles into me like a bullet embedding itself into my heart and in return I cuddle him close, hands running all over his bony back as I try to convey to him just how not-cross I am.

I could never be cross with my Mikeymouse, he’s far too precious for that. Sure, we’ve had the odd little disagreements but I’ve never gone as far as shouting at him or showing any other sign of the fury that he seems to constantly expect from just about anyone who isn’t his big brother. Gerard’s something of a God-send, actually. Without him I doubt I’d even have a boyfriend right now; more like a tiny urn of ashes.

You see, before I met Mikes he’d picked up a fair few dirty habits. Self-hate and self-harm being but two, suicidal tendencies being another. Tendencies that he has tried to act on several times, six in total that we know of, but either Gerard or myself have managed to stop them from becoming a horrific reality. He’s only tried it twice since we’ve been dating, even if that is two-hundred times too many for my heart to be able to withstand without breaking, the other four times being left in Gerard’s hands to deal with. And he really does do an amazing job, just not amazing enough for it to make Mikes feel as secure as he should do.

Secure enough to go out for dinner with me on my birthday. The poor kid suffers from an extreme form of social phobia, one that forces him to see therapists and talk to people who scare the shit out of him; making it impossible for me to force the poor little mite into a bustling restaurant. Besides, Chinese takeaway is just as good as eating out. It’s not like you can make-out over a table in the formality of a restaurant like you can on a couch.

“You are not a fuck-up, Michael James Way.” I whisper into his ear before planting a firm kiss to his stress-sweat-slicked temple. Poor thing. “You’re just you; my little Mikeymouse. And I wouldn’t prefer you any other way.”

“But that’s not the point!” He growls, more to himself than to me, in such a resigned voice that it’s the least I can do to not break his ribs with the intensity of my hug. “It’s your damn birthday, Pete. You should be able to go out with your boyfriend on your motherfucking birthday.”

I smile down at him sadly, taking a good look at the tears he’s failing to hide by tilting his head down. That’s what makes this hurt all the more for me; he genuinely is one of life’s good people. The kind of person who only wants to help and not harm, love and not hate, be invisible and not a problem.

“Maybe I don’t want to go out on my birthday. What’s so great about going out anyway?” An idea flickers into my mind and I slide a hand down the rim of the boxer-shorts that are poking out from under his jeans. The action makes his hips buck against mine, a sense of euphoria fading onto his face as I pull him closer into me because he knows what this means; he won’t be walking right for a good few days. In a good kind of way. “Let’s face it, Mikeymouse, people in restaurants don’t usually like to watch two guys fucking, do they?”

He lets out a high-pitched whimper of bliss when my hand finally grips onto my favourite, most used part of my boyfriend. The part that makes me realise he isn’t the little baby that I have a tendency to take him as.

“F-fuck. Pe-ete?”

I plant a kiss onto his nose, letting him know that he’s got my full attention.

“Let’s get-et,” his tone wavers as I start rubbing, slowly at first in that way I know makes him melt, “takeaway more o-often.”

“As long as this is the desert, Mikeymouse, we can have it every night.”

A/N: I apologise for the short/crappyness of this, but I hope that you liked it and please let me know what you think! :)
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