FicWad

It’s really, really hot, way too hot, so hot, and Pete normally would have made some sort of dumb-ass sexual quip about it at one bandmates by now but it’s too hot for even that and jesus his eyeliner is running, that’s how hot it is. The humidity is pressing down on his shoulders and his chest. He wishes it would rain.

The air conditioner on the bus is working and everything, but sometimes when Pete gets bored and uncomfortable he turns into an annoying shit, and so after half an hour of trying to ignore his whining and antics, his bandmates (okay, it was mostly Joe, but the others didn’t exactly help him) had thrown him out. He’d climbed onto the roof of the bus and hung out there for a while, kicking his feet repetitively against the side just to spite Joe, but then Patrick had come out and given him a Look and he’d climbed meekly down. Whatever. The metal of the roof was too hot to sit on comfortably anyway.

So now Pete is sitting on the ground near the fence, scuffing his feet along the dry ground. Little clouds of dust puff up over his hightops and pretty soon there’s a chalky brown coating on them. He pulls his knees up to his chest and drapes his arms over them, letting his head fall backwards against the rusty chain link.

Strangely enough, there’s not really many other people milling about. Well, he is pretty far from the stages, he supposes, and maybe one of the headliners is on or something. He doesn’t really mind. He’s not in the mood to pose for pictures and be asked for autographs.

The only other person around, he notices, is this tall, skinny, slightly gawky looking guy hanging around nearby. Pete is positive he’s seen him around somewhere before, but he can’t place it even though for some reason he really wants to. He sits there puzzling and staring at the guy in a way that is probably actually pretty creepy and he can’t fucking figure it out.

This guy is attractive, Pete can tell from here. He has this fucking killer jawline that Pete feels a vague desire to lick. It’s not just that, though; there’s something about him, an air to him- the first word that comes to mind is intriguing. Pete sits there staring at him like a weirdo until there is a roll of thunder in the distance. He looks up at the sky, which has turned menacingly grey. Maybe it will rain. He grins.

When he looks back, the guy is walking away.

Pete is scrambling to his feet before he knows what he’s doing. He runs after him even though he probably shouldn’t because he will look like a creepy stalker, well, more of a creepy stalker than he already looked like. He taps the guy on the shoulder and the guy turns to look at him and Pete’s breath maybe hitches a little. Damn. This guy is seriously… pretty. He looks a little confused- lost, even- almost as if he’s not actually used to human interaction. Pete finds him strangely adorable.

“Hey!” he says, sounding a little over-enthusiastic even to himself. “Um. I’m Pete.”

The guy nods, bites his fingernail, his eyes slightly widened behind his glasses.

“I… I was sitting over there by the fence and I saw you and, um, I know that I know you, or actually more like know of you, from somewhere and I can’t place it-“ God damn it, Wentz, stop babbling. “-so are you in one of the bands or something?”

The guy nods shyly, one corner of my mouth quirking up slightly. “My Chemical Romance,” he says and Pete yells “OH!”

He wants to slap himself for that, because the guy, who Pete recognizes now, looks startled and Pete feels like an idiot. “Sorry,” he says. “I just… I recognize you now. You’re Mikey Way! Right? The bassist?”

The guy, Mikey, grins a fumbly little grin. “Yeah, that’s me,” he says. “And you’re…. Wentz! Pete Wentz? From Fall Out Boy?”

“Yeah,” Pete beams. “Well, hi Mikey.”

There is another rumble, closer now. Mikey and Pete stand there and fuck oh my god does Pete seriously have butterflies right now, really, he is not a fourteen year old-

“So, My Chemical Romance, huh?” Pete says, just to break the silence. “You guys did Helena, right?”

Mikey looks surprised. “Yeah, that’s us.”

“Dude, that song kicks ass. Your singer’s voice… jesus,” Pete says fervently, and he means it. He distinctly remembers getting shivers the first time he heard that song.

“Yeah, that’s my brother,” Mikey says and Pete nods, grins, and just wants to stand here and talk to Mikey forever, even if he’s not quite sure why.

He’s also not quite sure why he decides to blurt out, “You seem awesome and we better hang out this summer or I’m going to be really sad.”

Mikey grins again, looking way less uncomfortable this time, and then the sky opens up above them.

Seriously, one second Pete’s being all sociable and making new friends and the next second it’s fucking pouring and he’s soaked through.

“Shit,” Mikey says, still grinning, His tips his face up to the sky slightly and laughs and Pete’s stomach does this weird, happy backflip. The humidity’s going to break and he’s going to hang out with Mikey Way as much as he possibly can.

This summer is going to be even better than expected.

A/N: SO, I realize I've been gone for a while now and I apologize for that, Writer's block is a bitch, my lovelies, and unfortunately I have been afflicted with a most stubborn case of it.
However, yesterday I got bored and asked for prompts on Tumblr and I got a prompt that is now serving as the summary for this little ficlet. I felt so great after writing this, jesus. It just felt really good to create again, you know?
ANYWAYS, what I was going to say in this little blurb was that I will take prompts for one shots. I'll write Frerard, Pikey and Rydon. (One-shots will be written and one-shots only, as I'm currently in the middle of writing a story that I actually really like so far- a Frerard superhero AU called No Heroes Allowed. Keep your eyes peeled for that one, kiddies.)
So yeah, if you have a prompt you'd like me to use, you can contact me through reviews, tumblr (everybody-loves-boobs) or email (karma.authorgirl@gmail.com).
So yeah, bye for now! Hope you liked this little ficlet! Rates and reviews are much appreciated!