FicWad

Pete couldn't find his hoodie. It wasn't just any hoodie. It was his favourite hoodie. His purple/grey one, with dark purple patches sewn on it. It was comfortable. Even though it looked like... what it was; a mish-mash of material.
And he couldn't find it.
"Pat?" He yelled. Not really necessary, because his best friend was sitting in the couch opposite. Patrick glared balefully at him. "Patrick?"
"What?" Patrick asked innocently.
"Have you seen my hoodie?" Pete pouted.
"Which hoodie, Pete Panda? You may have forgotten, but you do own the largest hoodie collection known to man." Patrick smiled fondly at him.
"My purple one. With the cool pockets." The stout singer thought for a minute.
"I think Joe might have it." Pete nodded and stalked off to find his guitarist.
"Joe..." Pete sat next to Joe as he poured out some cereal.
"Yes?" Joe began spooning it into his mouth.
"Have you seen my purple hoodie? The wicked cool purple one." Joe chomped on his spoon as he thought.
"No..." He trailed off, making Pete suspicious.
"Trohman!" he growled. Joe choked on his mouthful and dropped his spoon back in the bowl. He sprinted for the garden, Pete in hot pursuit. The stocky bassist dived at Joe, grabbing him around the waist and dragging him to the ground. "What have you done with my hoodie?"
"What's it worth?" Joe grinned.
"I... I'll buy you that light sabre you've been eying for the past month."
"Fine." Joe shook Pete's hand. "Andy has it. In his room. But he's still asleep. I wouldn't wake him. He hasn't been sleeping to well recently." With this information ringing in his ears, Pete made his way back into the house.
When the men had bought their four bedroomed detached house, complete with cellar and huge garden, Pete had consulted William, who shared a two bedroomed maisonette with Mike, on how to choose who got what room. The cocky vocalist had told them to toss a coin; and Andy had won. He got the biggest room; that came with a double bed. Pete climbed the stairs, thinking of how different all the band members were. Patrick had his name in wooden blocks on his door, Joe had his made of 'Star Wars' stickers, Pete used guitar plectrums. And as for Andy... the drummer didn't even have his name on the door, just a pair of crossed drumsticks.
Cautiously, Pete pushed open the door. Andy was asleep, still. It wasn't like him to oversleep. The drummer was sprawled out on the bed, reddish brown hair splayed over his eyes. Pete couldn't help but stare at Andy's bright tattoos. He smirked as he realised Andy was sucking his thumb. The smirk slid off his face as he realised where his other hand was. Or, rather, what it was holding. There it was. His hoodie, clutched firmly in a hand that was more used to clutching drumsticks. Biting his lip, Pete began to uncurl Andy's fingers.
"Caught you." The hand was pulled back. Andy looked at him, clutching the hoodie un both hands.
"I..." Unusually, Pete was lost for words. "I want my hoodie back!"
"What's it worth?" Andy asked mischievously.
"Hey! It's mine! And you aren't obsessed with Star Wars! I don't know how to bribe you!" Pete whined. Andy thought.
"A kiss." He said quietly.
"What?" Pete yelped in shock. "Are you kidding?" As soon as those words were out, he wished he could take them back. Andy's eyes seem to die, and he hid under his curtain of hair.
"Yeah." He said sullenly. "Here's your hoodie." He threw it at Pete and turned over.
"Wait, Andy-" Pete grabbed his shoulder. Andy shrugged it off.
"Get out Pete."
As Pete walked back down the stairs, he swore he could hear sobbing.
-
"Hey!" Pete gripped the microphone as the rest of the band got in place. "We're Fall Out Boy, and I hope you guys are ready to have some fun tonight!" The cheers that followed his words assured Pete that, yes, they were. They launched promptly into 'Sugar We're Going Down'. Half way through a spin, Pete felt something hit his lower back. He spun around whilst playing, trying to see what it was. He noticed a pale line on the floor, but figured it was some paint strip. However, he didn't think that when something hit him on the back of his calf. He looked down. There was another pale line. So he played the next song with his back to the audience. Nothing happened until right at the end, when something hit him in the stomach. How did that happen? Well, he had been spinning his bass at the time. He bent down to play his bass on the floor. He finally got a good look at what had been hitting him.
They were drumsticks.
He looked up at Andy. The heavily tattooed drummer threw another one, striking Pete across the face.
Hang on a minute... where was he getting these from?
It was then Pete noticed the bag at Andy's feet. He'd obviously come prepared. Andy scowled at him.
"Fall Out Boy would like to welcome a special friend tonight!" Pete said into the microphone, ignoring Andy. "Ladies and gentlemen, Mr William Beckett!" William slipped onto the stage as Pete struck up the chords to 'Sophomore Slump'. William slipped behind Pete, leaning on him and holding the microphone away.
"What the hell is going on with you and Andy?" He muttered.
"What? Nothing!" Pete responded.
"Pull the other one... Dammit!" William grabbed his microphone back. "The best part of believe is the lie, I hope you sing along and you're still alive..." Patrick looked at them oddly for a minute. "Everyone noticed it. What did you do this time?"
"I honestly did nothing! He stole my hoodie!"
"Right... well, there has to be some reason why he's doing a Butcher."
"What?" Pete would have dropped his bass if William hadn't grabbed it.
"Throwing drumsticks at you. It's what Butcher does when he gets pissed. Mainly with Mike, because Ace is like that." Pete shook his head.
"It's not like that." He muttered. "It's not!" William shrugged as he walked off stage. Pretty soon after, Pete and the rest of the band followed.
"See you later." William gave Pete a hasty one armed hug. "I would stay, but we're having a movie marathon tonight. And Sisky's bringing food, Butcher drinks. So I can't miss it!" He smirked and waved at the others as he walked off, pulling on his blazer.
"What the hell were you thinking, Hurley?" Pete turned to the drummer as they entered the house.
"What do you mean?" Andy feigned innocence.
"Throwing your drumsticks at me! If you'd caught me off guard I could have broken my neck!" Patrick and Joe looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
"Don't give yourself too much credit. You'd probably fall over without my help."
"What is your problem? Is it because I wouldn't kiss you? Got a little school girl crush, Andrew? What's that saying...? 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?' Although, I guess in your case..." Andy picked up his drum sticks.
"You know what, Wentz? Find another drummer. One who can put up with your giant ego. Or, even better, find a robot! Then they won't be capable of falling for you!" He pushed them into Pete and stormed off.
"Fix it." Joe said bitterly, looking at the bassist. "I mean it Wentz. Sort it out. Otherwise... otherwise it looks like Fall Out Boy is going to become Split Up Boy." Joe pointed Pete in the direction of Andy's room. Patrick nodded to the stairs and Pete sighed as he began climbing them.
Why was it always him?
-
Pete knocked softly on the door. His stomach clenched as he heard sobbing from the other side. Odd. He'd heard Andy cry before, and not felt like this... Surely...
Suddenly, the door opened and a red eyed Andy glared balefully at him.
"What do you want?" he asked huskily. "Come to rub it in?"
"Andy. We need to talk." Pete looked beyond him to the tidy room. "Can I come in?" Andy shrugged and moved to let him in.
"What do you want to talk about?" He asked softly, rubbing his hands along his tattoos. Pete felt his stomach clench again as he looked at the sorrowful figure.
As the silence echoed through the room, Andy walked over to his cd player and switched it on.
//How do you feel, that is the question
But I forget you don't expect an easy answer
When something like a soul becomes initialized
And folded up like paper dolls and little notes
You can't expect a bit of hope
So while you're outside looking in describing what you see
Remember what you're staring at is me\\
As Pete looked at him, Andy broke down, tears pouring from his warm eyes. Pete crossed the room in two steps and took the younger man in his arms. Andy was too upset to care as Pete gently steered him to the bed, stroking his hair.
"It's ok... Everything's ok..." He crooned in the drummer's ear. "I'm here now; everything's going to be fine." Andy clutched at him tighter. Pete's stomach clenched again, more painfully than either of the two before. Then everything fell into place.
How could he have been so stupid? He... he...
"I'm sorry Pete." Andy looked up. "I should never have told you. I-" Gently, Pete pressed his lips to Andy's, massaging them with his own. Andy stiffened. "Don't toy with me, Pete." He whispered, trembling, as the bassist pulled away.
"I won't." Pete replied, also whispering. "I never realised until I saw you crying..."
"What?" Andy touched his lips with a trembling finger.
"That you're handsome..." Pete kissed him again softly. "And wonderful..." And again. "And so right for me." He pushed him gently back onto the bed. So this was the reason Andy had wanted the double bed...
Andy gasped as Pete nipped at his neck, and then scooted back up to claim his lips again. Unlike their previous kisses, this one was passionate and demanding. Andy moaned into Pete's mouth as the bassist slipped his hands under his shirt.
Suddenly, the door flew open.
"Joe says it's time to-" Patrick announced, then blushed. "Oh, sorry... I..." Blushing even darker, he shut the door. Andy giggled breathlessly as Pete slipped off the bed. Patrick knocked on the door nervously.
"Come in!" Andy called, switching off his stereo. A bright red Patrick slipped into the room. Pete blushed slightly at the look on his face.
"Yeah... sorry about that, Patrick." He bit his lip. "What did Joe say?"
"I-It's time to go for the Sixteen Candles shoot." Patrick stammered, avoiding Pete's eyes. "And Joe says you should bring a jacket this time Andy, because he was fed up of you shivering last night." Andy nodded and moved to his closet.
"Bother... and other, worse, things." He cursed. "I left one jacket in the concert, the other one's in the wash... and Pete ripped the other one. Oh well. I'll try not to shiver." They trooped down the stairs to meet Joe at the bottom, who was tapping his foot.
"Took your time." He grunted before slipping on his jacket and stepping into the ice cold air. Andy shuddered. It was colder than he'd thought. Oh well. They were already late. He gasped as the cold wind whipped past his arms. "Oh for God's sake!" Joe wrapped an arm around him, trying to share body heat. "I told you to bring a jacket!"
"I don't have one..." Andy muttered through chattering teeth, cuddling into Joe.
"Andy!" Pete suddenly yelled. The drummer turned around, to be met with the purple hoodie in his face. He looked at Pete questioningly. "I was fed up of you shivering." The bassist shrugged. "And I didn't like Joe cuddling my boyfriend." The smile on Andy's face told Pete he'd said the right thing. And to think all this happened because of a purple hoodie.
And hey, it looked better on Andy anyway.