FicWad

Pairing: Pikey (Pete/Mikey)

When Pete woke up, Mikey was staring at the ceiling. "Why are you such a fucking masochist?"

"How'd you know I was awake?"

"You still snore like a bear in hibernation."

"And you're still quiet as a mouse."

"Pete?"

"Hmm?"

"Answer the question."

"Maybe I'm not a masochist. Maybe you're just irresistible." Mikey rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, because a lot of people seem to have had that problem with me in the past." Pete scooted closer and nuzzled one of Mikey's brand new hickeys.

"They have. You just never noticed." Mikey kept his expression as sarcastic as he could make it with something touching his over-sensitized neck.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm calling bullshit on this one." Pete leant up and stared.

"Shall I make a list of the people I know of?" Mikey lifted an eyebrow. A challenge. Pete accepted. "Joe wanted to sleep with you until he found out I beat him to the punch. He probably still would have tried to if we'd broken up before the tour ended. Saporta was HIGHLY interested in you from the start. I recall that Lazzara once told me you had the hottest ass he'd ever seen; which is high praise considering that he doesn't exactly embrace a 'straight edge' lifestyle. I caught Walker staring at your crotch for two full minutes at a festival last year. And yes, I really did time it. Frank STILL licks his lips when he looks at you sometimes. I've caught Ray checking you out before. Both Jared AND Shannon Leto have expressed… interest in you in the past. Tomo had a full-on crush. Tyson Ritter, Matt Cortez, Alex Suarez, Ian Watkins-" Mikey's eyes widened.

"Wait, what was that last one?" Pete was exasperated.

"Why do you think they asked you to be in that video, dude?! Watkins wanted to get into your pants! Anyway, there's Buddy Nielsen, I'm pretty sure Rickly had a bit of a thing for you while you guys were recording Bullets, and there was also Chamberlain and Dudley from Underoath. That's all I've got off the top of my head." Mikey's mouth was wide open.

"What?!" He squeaked. Pete smirked.

"Don't worry, baby." He leant down to darken the smallest spot on Mikey's neck. "I'll protect you from the rabid masses." Mikey's voice shook slightly.

"And who's going to protect me from you?" Pete grinned childishly.

"The massive cock-block that you have the audacity to call your older brother."

It was only a couple of days later that Pete woke up in Mikey's bunk after having had a dream that he was a gingerbread man in an oven. He took a breath of bone dry, superheated air and actually thought it might not have been a dream after all. He opened the curtain on the window to see that it was early morning; the sun hadn't started to come up yet. There was no logical reason for the bunk to be that hot; especially not in Kansas in fucking March. He went with a hunch and reached out to feel Mikey's forehead. It was so warm that it actually stung Pete's hand.

"Right then." He muttered to himself, clambering quietly out of the bunk and into the living area. Clearly someone was answering his prayers, because Gerard was awake and sketching with a large mug of coffee on the dinette. "Hey." Pete called out quietly. Gerard waved dismissively. "What does Mikey take when he's sick?" Gerard's head shot up; he was in full big brother mode.

"He's sick?"

"Dude, the bunk feels like a fucking sauna. Seriously, his brain might be melting." Gerard was there one second and gone the next. 'Maybe it's a Way thing?' Pete thought to himself as he followed the dust cloud back to the bunks. Pete felt almost as if he were intruding when he saw the way Gerard was with his unconscious little brother. He just stood there quietly with a hand on Mikey's hair, stroking his temple gently with a thumb. Mikey murmured something in his sleep; too quietly for Pete to hear, and leaned into the touch, throwing out a hand and wrapping it loosely around Gerard's wrist. Gerard's troubled expression softened and he pressed a kiss to Mikey's forehead. Mikey smiled gently and curled his hand tighter.

"Can he actually tell that it's you?" Pete whispered.

"Of course he can tell it's me!" Gerard hissed back. "He said my name, didn't he?" Pete shrugged. Gerard stroked Mikey's hair one more time and then gently pulled his wrist away. "We need to go tell the driver to stop at whichever store we reach next. We're out of Dimetapp." Pete was confused but decided not to question. Gerard moved to Frank's bunk and gently shook him awake. When Frank opened his eyes and rubbed his face tiredly, Gerard did look a bit guilty.

"Frankie." He whispered, "We need to make a med run. Mikey's sick. Can you watch him for me?" Frank blinked a few times before shaking his head to clear it and nodding at Gerard, swinging himself out of his bunk. Pete followed Gerard up to the cab and within minutes they were at some ma and pa grocery store in the middle of nowhere. To Pete's great shock and relief, they did have Dimetapp. He wasn't really clear on why that was what Gerard thought Mikey needed but he wasn't about to argue. He'd never been around Mikey when he was sick, after all. Pete got the sudden idea that maybe that was a disadvantage for them both; considering the job he'd come on tour to do.

"Why Dimetapp?" Pete asked as he gently shook Mikey awake back in the bus. Gerard rolled his eyes.

"You may know more about my brother's body than I ever will or will ever want to, Wentz. But you still have a lot to learn about him as a person. Lesson one: only two kinds of non-prescription medicine work on Mikey Way. Grape flavoured Dimetapp and Nyquil. Mikey doesn't like Nyquil but he'll take it if he's REALLY sick. Don't try to feed him cherry Dimetapp under any circumstances. You will not like the results." Mikey finally woke up and bypassed Pete completely in favor of looking for his brother. When he met Gerard's eyes and spoke, he seemed to have regressed twenty years in age.

"Gee?" He spoke in a soft, unhappy voice. "I'm sick." Gerard smiled at him.

"I know, Mikes. I know. Here." Gerard held out a little medicine cup with the sketch-looking purple liquid in it and Mikey drank it without complaint. Gerard handed him a water bottle and helped him to sit up a little so he could drink that too.

"Gee?" Gerard's intent expression turned sympathetic.

"You want me to stay for a while?" Mikey looked down; as if ashamed, and nodded weakly. Gerard turned to Pete.

"You can stay in my bunk if you want." He pulled himself effortlessly in with Mikey and helped him lay down again. Mikey was asleep in seconds, but Pete had another question.

"Why do you have to help him move?" Gerard looked down sadly at Mikey.

"His joints always bother him when he has a fever. They have since he was little. So he's usually pretty sore when he's sick and he doesn't like moving a whole lot." He fixed Pete with a firm but not unkind stare. "So be careful not to jostle him over the next couple of days, alright?" Pete nodded seriously.

He contemplated the relationship between the brothers later that morning over a cup of lukewarm coffee. Gerard's face had been calm and assured; if a little worried. He was certain that in a few days Mikey would be just fine. He would, in the sense that the fever would be gone.

That was when Pete realized something. He had already accepted an idea that was completely alien to everyone else on the tour but Mikey. Sometimes you have to accept that your best days are behind you.