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Domesticity's A Bitch, Ain't It

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pete is just. he's like. he can't fucking sleep. and it's totally beyond him why (thank whoever for coffee, though. he'd probably die without it). he just stays up, like, all night, by himself. like, all the time. and he's fucking bored. but then, the magical entity known as mikeyfuckingway enters his crazy, sleep-deprived world with even more coffee and his bored-looking happiness and it's. fucking great.

him and mikey are, like, closerthanthis. in it together, whatever 'it' is. pete doesn't know. he hasn't slept for real in... four days? five? but you can bet your ass that mikey has been up with him for every step of the way (ha fucking ha. way.).

patrick and gerard keep telling the two of them to, like, sleep, but pete is not gonna his waste his time being unconscious when it could be better spent with michael james fucking way. so what if it's 'negatively impacting their health'? they don't care.

(he thinks that maybe gee and patrick have bonded over being the ones who care most about pete and mikey. like, it's their job suddenly, to take care of the two of them. pete is a grownup, thankyouverymuch, and can look out for himself.)

he likes mikey's laugh. it's more of, like, a quiet chuckle, than an actual laugh, but. he likes that it's genuine, y'know? like, that tiny fucking laugh is more mikey than fucking... anything. he fucking loves it, okay.

they spend, like, all their time together. pete wants to teach mikey the bass line to a couple of their songs, and surprise, motherfucker, mikey sheepishly admits that he already fucking knows them. this is so fucking great.

sometimes, mikey's apathy can be a little offsetting. like, it's not that he doesn't feel stuff, y'know, he just doesn't show it. but it's okay, 'cause when mikey is happy, his mouth doesn't have to say a word. his eyes do all the talking. pete's not always sure he knows what they're saying, but. he likes them anyways.

mikey calls him 'peteypie'. he thinks he's being, like, so stealth, whenever he says it, but pete always hears it. it's fucking nice to have a nickname. mikey also pets his hair when he thinks pete's asleep, covers him with a blanket if he's cold. he presses little kisses all over pete's face before they go their separate ways on the nights gerard and patrick insist they actually sleep and texts him stupid, cute things that make pete blush like a fucking teenager. apathetic, my ass.

he's never had someone, like, take care of him like this before. with patrick, he was, like, so much older, so it just felt like he should be the one taking care of him, y'know? kinda like an obligation, but, like, one he didn't mind. but nothing with mikey feels forced. it's all just so fucking natural and pete loves it. loves it.

"peter," mikey whispers to him one night. or, morning, really. it's two.

"michael," replies pete. he's sharing mikey's bunk for the night, 'cause he really didn't have the effort needed to, like, walk. to his bus. both of them are tucked into their respective corners, mikey playing around on his sidekick, pete scribbling potential lyrics into a notebook. they're fucking content.

"do you wanna-"

pete zones out for a minute. he likes the way mikey (ha. way puns) says 'do you wanna'. he notes that in the margin of the page he's working on. could be usable...

"do i wanna what?" he asks a second later.

mikey heaves a sigh, and it's, like, so cute pete could just die. "i asked you if you wanna try and sleep, 'cause you have a show tomorrow, and. y'know. it's been awhile."

propping himself up on an elbow, pete gives mikey his very best serious look and says, "mikeyway, i'll let you in on a little secret of mine. sleeping is, like, an open relationship with death, okay? i love death, she's really sweet, right. and at the end of the day? where i wanna be. where i fuckin' belong. but, like, now? i'm enjoying time with my mistress. his name is consciousness."

pete thinks he's done a pretty good job of explaining things, but. mikey giggles a little, so. apparently not.

"what," pete demands. it sounded alright in his head, not at all funny.

"was that you low-key coming out as bi, and possibly a little suicidal, to me, or just babbling?" mikey asks, still chuckling, that little shit. for anyone else this would be, like, hardcore laughing, but mikey would never. anyone else would also be freaked about pete's comments about death, but. mikey gets him.

"both?"

"pete panda, you crack me up," mikey declares, monotonous.

"i try my very hardest, mikeyway."

Chapter Text

mikey has this habit of wearing really big sweatshirts in the morning to keep himself warm, which pete thinks is totally ridiculous. it's summer, and about a million degrees out. but somehow, mikey's body fucking defies nature and decides to be cold.

pete secretly finds the sweater paws mikey always ends up with adorable, but he teases him about them anyway because he's just that fucking great.

"look at yourself, mikeyway. the sleeves of your goddamn hoodie are too long. you're fuckin ridiculous."

it's somewhere around five thirty in the morning, pete thinks. he's not sure. he's been a little busy making out hanging out with mikey. neither of them has, like, slept at all, but it's whatever. pretty normal for a couple of insomniatic freaks (is that even a word? if it's not, pete's totally gonna make it one).

they're hunched over their respective mugs of coffee in the lounge of pete's bus and man, what he wouldn't give to be able to sleep like a normal human.

"you're one to talk, peter. you're what, five foot even?" mikey snarks. "nothing fits you right."

"five six," mumbles pete defensively. his height is a sensitive subject. "we can't all be giants."

mikey laughs - a tiny, barely-there laugh - and pries one of pete's hands off his mug. it takes him a second - pete really loves his coffee.

"see, look, 'm not a giant," he says as he lines their hands up, palm to palm.

pete glances at their hands briefly. mikey's long, spindly fingers stretch just beyond his.

"that doesn't mean anything, dude, you gotta have big hands to play bass," he says. he still gets a little shiver down his spine whenever mikey touches him. the good kind, though.

"oh, shut up," mikey tells him, and laces their fingers together.

if pete spends a few seconds staring at their entwined hands, nobody needs to know.

mikey carries on like nothing's changed.

pete hears footsteps coming from the bunks. it's andy, thank god. the only one who won't make a big stink about a) mikey being here, and b) them holding hands.

he just raises an eyebrow as he passes them to go talk to the driver. andy's the best.

Chapter Text

"pete, you are a grown-ass man. it's just thunder."

it's pouring outside, and pete, the 'grown-ass' man, is currently fearfully huddled into mikey's side. a flash of lightning illuminates mikey's face. he is having none of this.

"it's fucking scary-" pete winces as thunder crashes. he's not being irrational. lots of people (okay, mostly little kids and, like, dogs, but whatever) are afraid of thunderstorms. it's not weird. "hold me."

mikey rolls his eyes. "i am not gonna hold you, man."

"what if the lightning strikes the bus? won't we all be burned to death? wouldn't that make you wanna hold me in your last moments on earth?"

he feels like that is a perfectly reasonable, logical statement. which is why mikey's snort is not a welcome response.

"dude. do you not know how this stuff works?" he proceeds to give pete a lecture on electricity and conductors and pete really tries to listen, he does, but... mikey's distracting.

his hair is sticking up everywhere - in at least thirty-seven directions, pete's pretty sure, so completely different from his usual coiffed-to-perfection style that it makes pete's heart trip over some of its beats (it's probably just messy because it's now... three-ish in the morning, but pete still loves it). the lightning flickers across his smudged lenses, lighting up his eyes and making him look even paler than he already is (pete is kinda in love. aesthetically, at least).

"...you're not even listening, are you," mikey says. a particularly loud clap of thunder drowned out his first few words.

pete flinches and (reflexively, he swears) grabs mikey's hand.

"for your information, i was totally listening," he informs mikey in a very dignified tone (dignified for someone who needs his hand held during thunderstorms, anyway).

"sure you were."

he's annoyed, pete can tell, so he lifts mikey's hand and lightly kisses each knuckle.

"i'm sowwy," he says. maybe the mikey'll find the baby talk endearing enough to forgive him.

"oh, fuck you," mikey murmurs, but he's as close to smiling as he ever gets. "c'mon, you big baby. i'll hold you till the thunder stops."

pete wastes no time in situating himself in mikey's lap and kissing his cheek. "thank you, mikeyway. you're being a very considerate boyfriend right now."

if pete didn't know better, he'd say mikey was blushing.

"fuck you," he repeats, gently stroking pete's hair.

"you know you love me."

"fuck you."

Chapter Text

kissing mikey is probably in the top ten of pete's favorite things to do. actually, no. scratch that, make it top three. he just really likes kissing mikey.

(and since when is it a crime to enjoy kissing someone you like to kiss? uh, never)

every time is a little different, and if pete always looks forward to their next kiss like a fucking teenage girl, well. that's between him and exactly nobody.

sometimes mikey's gentle with it; closed mouths and hands on waists, slow and sure. pete loves those times. it's soft, and sweet, and pete thinks that those kisses are mikey's strange way of, like, showing affection (aside from his fond 'fuck you's that he mumbles).

other times, he's all business with bruising, biting kisses (and, more often than not, pete pinned up against the bus, a wall, a door... you name it, pete's been held against it) that leave both of them breathless and pete's knees weak. it's great.

and somehow, mikey seems to know exactly how to blend the two well enough to make pete dizzy. he literally cannot get enough of kissing mikey way.

others seem to disagree. namely, gerard.

"would you get a room already," he gripes when he finds them making out on the couch of mcr's dressing room.

"kinda had one, gee," mikey says, nonchalantly sliding off pete.

pete's pretty sure his face is, like, so red right now it's not even funny. normally, stuff like this ('this' being people seeing him making out with someone, not mikey getting off of him) doesn't bother him, but. gerard scares the shit out of him.

especially now, when he's staring down at him disapprovingly. (the makeup around his eyes makes them look even bigger and more intimidating, which is not helping.)

"right. you might wanna find another room, then, cause stage call is in fifteen and frank needs at least ten to fuck with his hair, so. don't be late."

they've been effectively kicked out, so they wander the venue. mikey absently tangles his fingers with pete's as they walk aimlessly down a hallway.

they get strange looks from some of the other bands, so in an unusual display of (well, anything, really, mikey's not one to show feelings and such) affection (or, y'know, possesiveness) he kinda slams pete into the wall and kisses him, like, hardcore.

wolf whistles and 'damn, wentz's erupt from everyone nearby, but. pete would be crazy to pay attention to them as of now.

after the noise from everyone fades, mikey nips at pete's bottom lip and steps back.

it takes pete a minute to catch his breath. "mikeyway, you're gonna be the death of me," he pants.

"i know." mikey smiles smugly.

Chapter Text

apparently, someone discovered that the hotel they're at tonight has a pool, and someone else decided they were all gonna go swimming. in the middle of the night.

mikey was not privy to any of this, but he's dragged down to the pool anyway.

he's sitting off to the side, dangling his feet in the water and just observing. it's strange; everyone seems to think he has mind-reading powers or some shit, but he usually learns things just by watching.

gerard, of course, is sitting primly on the steps, shirt on even at the pool (not that mikey can blame him, he's got his shirt on too), refusing to fuck up his hair or nails, which, of course, both get fucked up when frank pulls him into the water, laughing. mikey wonders about them, sometimes.

a bunch of the guys are playing some sort of game that involves both tackling each other and throwing a ball. mikey cannot fathom why pete is one of those guys.

(he is, however, most definitely not using the opportunity of everyone being in various degrees of undress to admire pete - and some of the others too, he's not blind, jesus - being shirtless. not at all.)

(...except he totally is.)

"c'mon, mikeyway, come swim," pete calls to him. he leaves the gaggle of shouting guys and makes his way towards mikey.

"i prefer being able to see, peter," mikey says, working very hard to keep his eyes on pete's. "and, y'know. kinda have to take these off to swim." he pokes at his glasses for a second to illustrate his point.

"you need me to be your eyes?" asks pete, winking.

(why is he winking? pete wentz will forever be a mystery to science, mikey thinks.)

he briefly watches frank's attempt to be sneaky while stealing a kiss from gerard (he knew it) before he replies. "i don't trust you as far as i can throw you, dude. so no."

the pout that pete's putting on is ridiculously adorable.

"you're not being a very good boyfriend, mikey," he whines, looking up at mikey with his stupid, big, golden eyes.

god. pete keeps throwing that word around. every time he says it, mikey gets this feeling, like he's being stabbed.

he doesn't mind it, though, because it's a nice kind of stab.

"oh, fuck you," he says, looking away to try to hide his blush.

it's what he's reduced to. pete kinda takes away his words, and leaves him with 'fuck you' and 'shut up', because he really does not know how to deal with these sort of feelings.

"you wish you could, mikeyway," pete replies flippantly, and he's off to go jump in the deep end, or do something equally ridiculous.

mikey catches the fond smile before it can spread across his face. no one needs to know how gone he is for this guy.

(which, by the way: he happens to be so whipped it's not even funny.)

Chapter Text

"what the- a double date? dude, no! your brother scares the fuck out of me," exclaims pete. apparently, frank suggested to mikey that the four of them go on some semblance of a double date.

which: no.

mikey laughs as much as he ever does, meaning a short, quiet little chuckle. "pete, calm down. it's just gee, he's not gonna, like, eat you or whatever. you'll live. 'sides, if you two spend time together, he'll stop being such a mom about you and me and chill out."

groaning, pete drops his head onto mikey's shoulder. "i don't know how you even do a double date, mikes. i'm not cut out for being a proper boyfriend."

it's true; his previous dating experience has not at all prepared him for this. he knows nothing about how to double date with his boyfriend's older brother and his boyfriend.

(god, he keeps using 'boyfriend' and 'double date'. he sounds like a character from a chick flick or something.)

more importantly, he doesn't know how to not make a total ass of himself in front of both mikey and gerard.

"please tell me this isn't gonna be a formal thing. please." he doesn't think he can handle that.

"dude, when do you think we'd find the time for that shit? this is probably gonna end up as all of us going to taco bell or something. you can handle it, i promise," mikey says, kissing the top of pete's head.

"taco bell? taco bell. i can do taco bell." he can do taco bell.

"yes, you can. this is no big deal." mikey rearranges them so he's got pete's head in his lap. why, pete will never know. mikey is an odd little duck.

"i get major good boyfriend points for this, right?" pete asks, looking up at him.

"um, no? you've hung out with them before, dude. this isn't any different." he strokes pete's hair gently. "you'll be fine."

"this could not be more different! before it was just me, as me, and him, and now it's me, as your, like, boyfriend, and your overprotective big brother, who looks at me like he wants to skin me alive!"

"don't be a drama queen." as always, mikey's word is final.

(pete really hates that mikey has to have the last word. really. he does not find it exasperatingly cute at all. no sir.)

so on one of the rare nights that neither of their bands are performing, the four of them end up at a taco bell around midnight.

pete's so nervous he can't sit still. which, nothing unusual for him, but he thinks the combination of him constantly drumming his fingers against his thigh and frank hopping around like a child might drive the people around them insane.

gerard, at least, is desensitized enough to find frank's incessant energy endearing. he puts a hand on his shoulder and holds him down long enough to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth before frank's bouncing off to inspect the case with kids' toys in it. he looks at frank fondly for a second before he's dragged over to look at a toy. frank also insists that gerard get him a toy, which he does. he watches frank play with it excitedly and smiles hugely.

(pete hopes he and mikey make it long enough to find each other's annoying idiosyncrasies endearing. not that he thinks about them having a future a lot or anything. no. that's for, like, six-year-old girls. he is a manly, grown-up man. he's gonna go spit, or lift weights, or... something super-masculine. yeah.)

mikey seems totally at ease. then again, it's his older brother and his best friend that he's with, whereas pete is facing down two people who will tear him limb from limb if he makes a wrong move towards mikey.

(even though gerard is skinny and frank is tiny, he's still worried.)

he zones out for awhile, worrying some more.

thank god frank brings up some age-old argument between the three of them that pete has no idea how to participate in. he can just sit and try to breathe.

mikey rests his hand on pete's knee under the table, and for some reason, it calms him immediately.

"so. pete." gerard's staring at him intently. his big hazel eyes are mildly (okay, really really) terrifying.

oh god, my time has come, pete thinks. frank has even put his toy down, so pete knows he's got it coming. he wonders briefly if patrick was serious about his offer to plan his funeral if tonight goes badly.

"yeah?"

gerard and frank exchange a look that makes pete very nervous.

"i assume you know that if you hurt him, all four of us will dismember you and eat you for breakfast?" frank asks. he sounds so ridiculously cordial that pete almost laughs.

before he can think better of it, pete blurts, "uh, yeah. i just- question, though? why do you just assume i'll hurt him? i mean, i know it's the standard big-brother-slash-best-friend talk, but... me and him, we're not standard. y'know? this is- it's not some fling where we fuck and i never speak to him again, okay? no. it's, like, serious. it's really important. to me. he's important to me. and maybe things will go good, maybe not. but i will never hurt him."

they all stare at him for a second. "...so you can go back to threatening me now. just wanted to put that out there."

mikey is still impassively looking at the wall, but the tiny smile pete's learned to detect is curling across his mouth and he thinks he did okay.

frank looks impressed. "hm. we'll hold you to that."

and they pick right back up with where they were with their argument.

pete can breathe again.

at the end of the night, frank pulls pete aside, still clutching his toy.

"man, i'm really glad you two got together. mikey could use someone like you in his life. oh, and by the way, the threat that gee came up with and had me parrot? nothing compared to what i'll do to you if you hurt him. think jaws meets silence of the lambs."

he gives pete a sunny grin before sauntering off to gerard.

sometimes pete wonders about him.

Chapter Text

sexuality has never been an issue for pete. he's always known what he was into, what he wasn't. (girls and guys, respectively.)

mikey way changes that. (in his defense, mikey changes a lot of stuff. not that pete would ever tell him that.)

pete is just so, so gone for mikey from the word go that he never even stopped to consider trivial matters like gender.

but. he has a cliché 'oh god, am i gay' moment one day, which is not exactly punk, but. shit happens.

it's half his fault, half mikey's. (mostly mikey's. definitely.)

they've been making out - kinda intensely- in mikey's bunk for awhile. it's sorta new, but it's good. pete's content. that is, until, mikey gently rolls his hips, which is definitely a new thing, and. pete can feel him -half-hard - against his thigh.

holy fuck.

and so pete wentz's great sexuality crisis begins.

it freaks him out bad enough that he won't touch mikey for a day and a half.

(which is abnormal because he is constantly in contact with him ordinarily - whether it's just brushing their fingers together or full-on cuddling, he is always touching mikey.)

the streak is broken when mikey finds pete on his bus, drops onto the couch beside him, and rests his chin on his shoulder.

"you wanna tell me what's wrong or am i gonna have to pry it out of you?" he looks at pete, expectant.

pete sighs. talking to mikey usually helps him solve his problems, so he tries. "i know this may come as a shock to you, but... i'm not exactly the most experienced at doing this kinda stuff, with a guy. so. the other day kinda... threw me off, a little."

mikey snorts. "it's not a shock to me, pete. it isn't exactly a secret you don't do dick. but you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to, and that i won't make you do anything. just tell me what your boundaries are, and i'll respect them, 'kay?"

"i think... above the waist. maybe." he still doesn't want to be touched right now, he's busy freaking out still, but figures it's best to establish 'boundaries' for later on. if there even is a 'later on'. oh, god...

"cool. i'll keep it pg." mikey kisses his cheek and goes to get them coffee.

that doesn't help much. or at all.

he still isn't sure what this whole thing with mikey even means in terms of what he's into. it's like, until he thought about it, he didn't know or care, but now that he has, it's the only thing that's on his mind.

"lunchbox, i'm having my mid-life crisis," he groans to patrick later that day. he's lying on the couch next to patrick, looking up at him and whining.

"you're living past fifty if i have anything to say about it," patrick replies without looking up from his book.

"ugh. that's not my point." sometimes pete really hates his best friend. he pushes his head onto patrick's lap.

"then what is your point?" patrick asks, shoving his head away.

pete sighs and sits up. "my point is that i've always liked girls, right? and just girls." "that's not what gabe says," patrick mutters, but pete ignores him and continues. "but now i'm with mikey, and... i didn't even think about the fact that he's a guy, like. it didn't matter to me. then all of a sudden i realized he was, so. now i'm freaking out."

"wow, you just now figured out that mikey has a dick?" patrick says dryly.

pete throws a pillow at his head. "no, it was just... brought to my attention, recently."

"brought to your attention? what does that- ohhh," patrick says.

"yeah. it's, uh. it- i- we were- mmhmm."

"so you're having a quarter-life crisis cause your boyfriend got a boner?"

"i, uh. yeah. but i don't know if this means i'm gay, or bi, or whatever... so i came to you. i mean, you've always been the smart one."

"thanks? i'm not really sure i'm the most qualified person to answer this question, but..." he puts his book down and thinks for a moment. "i think, taking into consideration the fact that that you didn't care - at first - that mikey's a guy, you might be pan?"

"what the hell is 'pan'?" a mythical satyr? a cooking implement? pete doesn't know.

"pansexual," patrick clarifies. "basically, it means you're not limited by gender in terms of people you're attracted to. and anyways, since when are you exclusively attracted to girls?"

pete has no idea what that means. "what are you- oh. right. i guess the whole thing with you should've brought on this crisis a lot sooner."

pete might be the worst best friend/ex-boyfriend (if that's what they even were - it was such a long time ago and they never really bothered with labels) in the history of both bad best friends and ex-boyfriends for forgetting.

patrick resumes reading his book. "nah. we never got physical like i'm assuming you do with mikey. it's cool. 'sides, everyone saw you and gabe making out that one time, so it's not like it's a shock to me."

"hey. everyone makes out with gabe. he's irresistible. but are you sure?"

"positive."

so, armed with both the potential title of pansexual and substantial curiosity, pete seeks out the only dude (that doesn't frighten him, anyway) that he knows that's been with (multiple, it's no secret he's more than a little promiscuous) guys before: frank.

after explaining himself and his... situation, pete nervously awaits frank's response.

he is not expecting a laugh.

"dude, come on. you're not serious," frank gets out between giggles.

"what? i really do need to know," insists pete, crossing his arms petulantly. this is a matter of life and death. probably.

"okay, okay." frank takes a few seconds to regain his composure. he sets down his beer and thinks for a second. "the only thing that really matters is that you like mikey because he's mikey, right? dicks don't need to come into the equation until you're both 100% sure you want them to. shit happens, but you don't need to freak about it. talk it through with him and you'll be okay."

oddly enough, frank is the one who's helped the most. pete thanks him profusely and heads out to talk to mikey.

he finds mikey curled into his brother's side while they both discuss the potential outcome of a fight between batman and aquaman.

"mikey," he says, a little too loudly. he's standing there really awkwardly and feels like he's intruding.

gerard glances up at him, then back at mikey. they have some sort of silent conversation that results in gerard nodding, kissing mikey's forehead, and leaving.

"what's up, peter pan?" asks mikey, pushing up his glasses.

"when we talked earlier, i wasn't totally straight with you." pete takes a moment to internally wince at his choice of words while mikey arches an eyebrow. "what i mean is, i didn't really tell you the whole truth. i was still really freaked about what happened, 'cause i've never really done anything like this-" he gestures wildly between the two of them to indicate their relationship. "with a guy. but until the other day, i never really thought about the fact that you're a guy."

"let me get this straight-" they both cringe slightly before mikey continues. "you didn't realize i was a dude until i got a semi while we were making out?"

"yes?"

"pete, i swear. you're gonna kill me one of these days," mikey says, shaking his head.

"i wasn't finished, michael." pete looks at him pointedly. he lapses into bemused silence and gestures for pete to continue. "anyway, like i said, i was still freaked, so i talked to patrick. don't give me that look, the guy's my best friend. he said i'm probably pansexual and gave me this whole lecture thing, which was confusing, but. i asked frank about it, and he said it shouldn't matter to me that you're a guy, 'cause it's you that i'm into."

hopefully that made sense to mikey. pete stands there awkwardly for a few seconds, waiting.

"fuck you, pete wentz. fuck you." he's making grabby hands at pete, so apparently the message was received.

pete settles in his lap and kisses his cheek. "i don't know how you put up with me, mikeyway."

he mumbles something they pete can't quite make out (it sounds suspiciously like 'dove poo', which gives pete pause. why would he be talking about bird shit?)

"you mumble a lot, anyone ever tell you that?"

mikey only smiles at him in response.

Chapter Text

"personally, i love the idea," proclaims frank. he'd suggested that a bunch of them head to the beach nearby and 'camp out' as some sick form of 'get to know the people you'll be stuck on tour with all summer', as opposed to everyone being sane, staying indoors, and drinking like normal people.

his proposal had been met with derisive laughs and a few "you're fuckin' nuts"s, even though a few people (meaning gerard and a couple other guys) thought it was an okay idea.

mikey is not one of those guys. he'd prefer to remain inside, and even if he didn't, how well could an impromptu camping trip planned by a tiny punk go? even when he sees pete fucking wentz (yeah, they know each other, but mikey has what's definitely not a crush on him and therefore will refer to him as pete fucking wentz because being on a first-name basis will not help said not-crush) start nodding like, yeah, this is a cool idea, he still doesn't want to go.

he watches idly while frank stands on a chair and begins giving orders to people about what to bring. gerard takes a break from gazing at him fondly and makes his way over to mikey.

"isn't this cool, man?" he asks, excited. mikey likes seeing the light back in his eyes, even if it is a little weird that frank's the one responsible for it.

mikey shrugs. "i dunno. i wasn't planning on going, but you guys have fun."

"noooo, mikes, you have to go," gerard exclaims. "it's gonna be great."

"nah, man, i'm good. you go have a good time with frank."

his brother bats his insanely long eyelashes at him and pouts. "but mikes, you gotta come."

mikey heaves a sigh. maybe he can find someone to hook up with before the tour starts or something. although, sex on the beach is not fun. sand gets everywhere, someone could hear (he's been known to elicit some pretty loud noises from people)... yeah, he'll rethink that. but he decides to go, because he doesn't trust frank to keep a good enough eye on is brother.

gerard knows the answer is 'yes' and leans in to press an excited kiss to mikey's cheek. "it's gonna be awesome!" he enthuses. mikey makes a mental note to keep him away from any drunken idiots.

upon arriving at the beach, some idiot decides it's a good idea to dump all the blankets into a heap and let everyone grab their own. mikey is not one for jumping into a pile of other human beings, and refrains from joining what looks like ten or so guys in fighting for blankets.

pete fucking wentz, he notices, immediately grabs one and retreats quickly.

he rolls his eyes (he really wonders sometimes why he - definitely does not - have a crush on that idiot) and wanders around.

a bunch of people ask him to come hang with them, but there's a group of jackasses running around and yanking people's blankets out from under them for shits and giggles, and he'd rather not have that happen, so.

eventually he winds up sitting on a sand dune, smoking with frank and gerard. (none of the blanket stealers would dare come near what's been termed "the emo power couple".)

it's kinda lame to be third-wheeling them, but he figures it's payback for all the stuff he's had to see and hear.

pete fucking wentz keeps his distance, hopefully because mikey's been glaring at him every time they make eye contact.

(which isn't often, it's not like mikey has been sneaking glances at him or anything.)

"pete's been making eyes at you for half the night, mikes," gerard says, nodding in his direction. he takes a long drag from his cigarette and hands it to frank.

mikey doesn't even wanna touch that. "so?"

"so, go over there and get a piece of that emo ass, because damn," orders frank, which earns a glare from gerard. he gives him his best wide-eyed innocent look and passes the cigarette back.

"no, dude, i'm not gonna just go over and talk to him, okay?" he does not need every damn person on this beach to know that he's sweet on an idiot.

 

pete cannot believe his luck. mikey fucking way actually showed up at the beach. he is here and there's an entire realm of possibility stretching out before him. he takes a moment to enjoy this before seeing one of the guys putting all the blankets into a pile. there's no way in hell there's enough for everyone and he's damn sure not gonna sit on sand. uh-uh. so he snags one right off the bat and flees.

he drapes the blanket over his shoulders like a cape (no, twenty-five is not too old to pretend to be a superhero, thankyouverymuch) and guards it fiercely. he spends the majority of the night debating whether or not he should go talk to mikey, who's been hanging around with gerard and frank, smoking.

unfortunately mikey catches him looking, and stares daggers at him. which, not exactly inviting.

(but, very confusing. him and mikey have been cool since they met, so this is kinda off-putting. he'll push through it, though.)

someone got a fire going awhile ago, but it's late now and it's slowly dying. mikey is one of the few people that're still up, and he's laid claim to the area around the embers of the fire.

pete takes a deep breath and cautiously sits beside him. "you cold, mikeyway?"

"no." he's totally lying. it's chilly out, so much so that even the guys have overcome their fragile masculinity and started sleeping huddled together. pete watches the light flicker across the odd angles of mikey's face and thinks he's never seen anything so beautiful.

"liar, i can see your goosebumps." pete drapes an arm over his shoulders and the blanket falls into place there too. (he may cry if mikey shrugs it off.)

but no, instead he (really very unexpectedly) drops his head onto pete's shoulder. "why are you doing this?"

well, now or never, pete supposes. "i dunno, you're cold, and i don't, like, want you to get sick or anything. y'know. 'cause, um. i like you."

"yeah?"

"mm-hm." that's not exactly reassuring... but he forges on. this is either gonna go really good or really bad. "this is the part where you tell me how you feel, mikey."

"it is, isn't it," mikey says sagely. he lifts his head from pete's shoulder and looks him square in the eye. "well. i think, all things considered, that-"

he's interrupted by a drunken yell from a little ways down the beach.

"get it, mikes! whooo!"

"shut the fuck up, iero," barks mikey. he's met with loud giggles that fade into silence.

"that was... interesting," pete manages.

mikey looks minutely embarrassed. "yeah, well. i, um... i like you too?"

well, shit. "dude. seriously?"

"uh, yeah." he's looking down and fiddling with one of the bracelets he's wearing, but he's smiling a little.

"dude." oh god, he sounds like an idiot.

"i know." mikey looks up at him. well, technically at his mouth (but, y'know. pete's not complaining here).

shit. is this happening? mikey's leaning toward him a little. oh, god, oh, holy fucking shit, mikey fucking way is trying to kiss him what the hell-

"shut up," he mumbles, barely giving pete a chance to register that he's just said all of that out loud before kissing him.

this is probably the most cliché thing that's ever happened to pete. he's being kissed on a beach in front of a fire and good god, he loves it.

when mikey's done (because really, pete is so not in charge here - which he kinda likes, not that he'd ever admit it), he sits back and looks at pete appraisingly.

"so. this is a thing now?"

pete's fairly sure he's blushing pretty badly. "uh, if you want?"

mikey rolls his eyes and nods. "dude, i just kissed you on a beach in the middle of the night, and even fucking frank knows that i've had a stupid crush on you for forever. so yeah, i want."

"cool, i guess." i guess? what the hell is wrong with me? pete thinks.

"calm down, dude," laughs mikey. he looks at pete (his eyes are twinkling and it's making pete dizzy).

"god, was i doing it again?" he says. his face is on fire, he's pretty sure. "christ. sorry."

"nah, don't be. it's cute."

Chapter Text

being with pete is not all sunshine and rainbows. it's not like mikey didn't already know that, he knows what he signed up for, but sometimes he gets reminded.

he's waiting patiently backstage for pete's set to be over, like usual, but this time pete doesn't come bounding off the stage sweaty and exhilarated and high on adrenaline; he stumbles in mikey's general direction with a blank look on his face.

"hey, pete, you guys did great," mikey says, making his way towards him.

it doesn't seem like pete can even see him, let alone hear him. he looks like he's lost in his own head. it scares mikey.

"is he okay?" he asks patrick. he has no idea what to do.

"god, i don't know, i could tell he was off before the show but i didn't think it'd be this bad..."

and patrick goes on to explain about bipolar depression and how it affects everyone differently and how pete sometimes gets like this and then a bunch of medical terms that mikey can't digest.

"is there anything i can do?" he interrupts.

"i don't know, i mean, there's not much you can do. i usually just stay with him, i guess, and make sure he's okay. there really isn't much anyone can do for him, but... if you're serious about him, about the two of you..." he eyes mikey carefully, like he doesn't trust him. mikey is affronted and stares him down until he continues. "i think you should know what you're in for."

so mikey stays by pete's side, because he's dead serious. he's scared, yeah, but he's not gonna leave pete alone like this. (well, technically, he wouldn't be alone, but.)

pete flops onto the couch in the lounge of his bus and mikey pulls him onto his lap. he looks so out of it. mikey decides to talk to him in an effort to keep him grounded.

"so, pete, the other day frank got totally smashed and starting writing sonnets about gerard, like, actual structured sonnets, can you believe it? yeah, gerard got all huffy and was like 'don't write sonnets about me' and frank was like 'fuck you gerard i do what i want' and gerard just shook his head and then- well, then gerard blew him and i nearly puked, but. fucking sonnets. i'd write you a sonnet, if i could. i can't do iambic pentameter, but if i could? man, you'd be up to your ears in 'em."

he keeps babbling away even though pete is showing no signs of listening. eventually he stops to take a breath and notices that pete's passed out.

"oh god, patrick, is this supposed to happen?" mikey calls, panicked. "is he sleeping or is this, like-"

patrick comes over and looks at them. after a second, he nods and says, "calm down, mikey, he's okay. it happens, sometimes. but i think your stage call is in a couple minutes, so why don't you go and i'll stay here with him, okay?"

mikey tenses and tightens his hold on pete. he doesn't want to leave, even though logically patrick is the best person that could be taking care of pete right now.

"he'll be alright, i'm here," patrick says softly.

"yeah- yeah, okay," mikey mumbles.

he makes it in time for stage call, but only barely. his brother immediately senses something's up.

"mikey, what's wrong," he demands, looking worried.

"i'm fine, gee, calm down, okay?" he knows gerard will see through that in an instant, but he tried.

"then why are you so-"

he needs to talk to someone about this, though, because it feels like he's gonna burst. he's so fucking worried about pete and it just sort of spills out. he grabs at gerard's hand and says,"it's pete, he's- god, i don't know, patrick said-"

before he gets the chance to explain any further, his bass is being thrust at him and they're all being ushered onstage. gerard looks at him worriedly as they go on, but mikey mouths 'later' at him and he nods.

he tries to push his thoughts out of his head and focus solely on the show. it works, mostly, but he nearly tosses his bass at the tech that approaches him afterwards in attempt to get back to pete as soon as he can.

"is he alright?" gerard says, getting his attention by grabbing him by the shoulders.

"i don't know, i think so. i still wanna-"

nodding, gerard orders, "go."

mikey hugs him briefly. "thanks."

he finds his way back to the fall out boy bus and breathes a sigh of relief when he's greeted by pete.

"hey, mikes," he says, sitting up from where he's slouched in patrick's lap. "how did your show go?"

"jesus fucking christ," mikey breathes. he's so fucking relieved. "it was fine, we were good, are you-"

"i'm okay, i think," pete says. he makes grabby hands at mikey. "c'mere."

mikey lets patrick stand up and head toward the back of the bus before he sits beside pete.

"so." pete mumbles, looking at him hesitantly.

"so." he knows pete needs to talk about this at his own pace, so he doesn't push it.

pete heaves a sigh. "listen, i know i never really talk about it, but-"

"i know. patrick told me."

"i get it, if you don't- if you can't-" pete looks at his hands, twisting the fabric of his hoodie.

"if i don't what?" mikey asks, putting one of his hands over pete's and stilling them.

"if you don't want to have to put up with shit like that."

"why wouldn't i?"

"because you don't deserve to deal with all that."

"pete."

"i'm serious, this is your get-out-of-jail-free card. you walk away and i won't think any less of you." he glances up at mikey, looking grave.

"pete."

"i mean, even i wouldn't want-"

"pete, shut up."

he obediently falls silent.

"listen to me. i don't give two flying shits that you're fucked up, you hear me? because i fucking love you anyway. so don't you think for a single fucking second that i'd ever, ever want to walk away from you."

pete smiles faintly. "you love me?"

"fuck you, of course i do."

Chapter Text

sometimes patrick misses the old days, back when it was him and pete against the world. sure, andy and joe were there too, as much a part of it as ever, but he and pete have always been much closer to each other than anyone else.

nowadays, though, it seems like it's changed to pete and mikey against the world, him included.

which is fine. he knew from the way pete talked so excitedly after first meeting mikey about a year ago that there was something. maybe pete didn't even know it himself, but patrick saw it coming from a mile away. so it wasn't a surprise when the two of them fell hard and fast this summer.

he's not jealous. he knows that he and pete had their go, and that their relationship ran its course several years ago, but he can't help missing his best friend.

mikey makes pete happy, though, so patrick keeps his mouth shut.

"hey, man, me and mikey are gonna watch the empire strikes back tonight, you wanna join us?" pete asks one day.

"nah, i don't wanna be, like, a third wheel."

"you won't, dude," says pete reassuringly. "'sides, we hardly ever hang out anymore. i miss you. so, you in?"

patrick smiles a little. "yeah, i guess."

later that night, he's sitting on the couch, texting andy about the merit of the tamborine when pete and mikey stumble in.

patrick can tell within an instant of looking at the two of them that they've been making out, mostly from pete. his hair is ruffled and his pupils are nearly eclipsing the oddly golden-brown of the iris. the only indicator he picks up on from mikey is that his lips are red and puffy.

he elects to ignore that and says, "hey" instead.

pete smiles at him and sits beside him, snuggling into his side like he always does. mikey stands there kind of awkwardly until pete extends a hand to him.

"nice. i got my two favorite dudes and one of my favorite movies. this is great."

mikey settles in beside pete, taking his hand in a subconscious gesture as the opening music starts.

it's nice. patrick expected it to be uncomfortable, or weird, but it's not. it's just him and pete and mikey, and that's it. it works.

by the time the end credits roll, pete's passed out in between them, snoring softly.

"dude, how did he do that?"

patrick shakes his head. "i don't know, man. he never just falls asleep like this."

"don't question it, i guess," mikey says, brushing some of pete's hair out of his eyes.

he sighs in his sleep and wraps an arm around mikey, pulling him close like he's a stuffed animal.

"god, i am so screwed," says mikey softly.

"what do you mean?" patrick asks.

"i don't know, man." he sighs. "i just- i'm fucking crazy about him. but-"

"you better have a really good 'but'."

they both look at each other for a second before cracking up.

(it's in that moment that patrick gets why pete's so in love with him. he doesn't know what it is, but he finally understands.)

"oh, god. that's really more pete's area than mine," patrick finally gets out.

mikey nods in between giggles. "jesus, i'd hope so." after a moment, he continues, "but, uh, seriously though. i am totally nuts about him, it's just... i don't know what's gonna happen, like, after the tour's over."

patrick takes a minute to digest this. "well, i mean, what do you want to happen?"

"fuck, i don't know. i mean, we're heading to fucking europe, after the last show. i love him, but i've gotta be realistic, i-"

"whoa whoa whoa. you love him, is that what i just heard coming out of your mouth?"

"well, yeah."

patrick just shakes his head. "dude."

"i know."

"have you told him?"

"a bunch of times, but only, like, twice when i really meant it. but, like, the point i'm trying to make here is that i... i can't see myself anywhere down the line if he's not right there with me."

wow. he'd known that the two of them were pretty serious, but this is insane.

"so what are you gonna do?"

mikey stares down at pete for awhile. "i don't know," he says finally. "i just- i don't want this– us – to be over when the tour ends. he means too much to me."

patrick nods. "i get you. i mean, i love him just as much as you do, and it'd kill me if i had to leave him."

"god, i just wish there was a way for me to make this... permanent, y'know?"

Chapter Text

hanging out with pete is always strange. like, he's a lot older than patrick, but sometimes it doesn't seem like it.

"oh, dude, check this out," pete calls.

patrick comes over and looks over his shoulder at the notebook he's pointing at.

"nice," he says. pete's drawn a passable-looking dinosaur amidst the all scribbled lyrics.

"i know, right? it's pretty sweet," enthuses pete.

"yeah, it's cool." patrick can't even tell what kind of dinosaur it's meant to be, but pete's just so damn excited by it that he can't help but smile.

"this should totally be our new logo. we could change our name and everything," pete says, looking at the drawing proudly.

patrick snorts. "fall out dino? i'm sure that'll go over good with andy and joe."

"it's not too late to change it, okay? we're not that big yet, we could make it work," he insists.

it's true; the band hasn't really taken off yet, but patrick can feel it– they're gonna make it, someday.

he rests his head on pete's shoulder. "if you say so."

Chapter Text

"are you fucking insane, mikey?"

so maybe casually broaching the topic of marrying pete wasn't the best way to go, but. patrick had insisted that he get gerard's approval before actually proposing, so.

mikey shrugs at his brother. "probably."

"you want to marry the guy you've only been dating for two months," he says in disbelief.

"yes." thank god mikey's skilled at keeping his poker face on, because a lesser man would've cracked already.

"hey, truefuckinglove or whatever," frank pipes up. "i think it's cool."

gerard gives him a look.

frank hold his hands up defensively. "what? i'm not sayin' we're gonna get married, i just think it's a cool idea for them."

at the notion of marrying frank, gerard goes pink and falls silent.

"so? do i get your blessing?"

"go for it, man," frank says. he elbows gerard until he nods.

he totally would've gone through with it anyways.

"so what are you gonna tell mom?" asks gerard.

"shit."

gerard rolls his eyes. "i'll take care of it if i get to be the best man."

"you might have to fight patrick for it, i think. he's pete's best friend and all."

"you kinda have to propose first, don't you?" frank points out.

which, yeah, valid point. "how the fuck should i do that?"

"i read this thing about a scavenger hunt proposal, once," gerard suggests.

"why were you looking at stuff about proposing?"

his face flushes. "i wasn't?"

"dude," frank says in awe, looking at him.

"shut up," gerard mutters. "anyway, the whole scavenger hunt thing is like, you start with a note, or text, or whatever, and then lead him around to a bunch of you guys' favorite spots and wait at the last one and then propose."

"that actually sounds pretty cool, except one, we've been on tour this whole time, so there's not really a lot of places i could hypothetically lead him, and two, i don't actually have a ring," mikey says.

"fuck rings, man. this is love," frank tells him, a slightly manic light in his eyes.

"no, not 'fuck rings'," says gerard. "there's gotta be something we can do."

"i'll give him a fucking ring pop if i have to."

"then you sure as hell better make sure it's his favorite flavor," says frank seriously.

mikey drops his face into his hands. "oh, god."

"i'm totally serious, dude, if i got proposed to with anything other than a motherfucking cotton candy bubblegum ring pop i'd say no."

"cotton candy bubblegum," gerard mumbles, as if he's making a mental note.

"i'm not proposing with fucking candy, dude, it was a joke," says mikey.

"well fuck, i don't know."

"hang on, lemme think," gerard says, holding up a finger. "you could, like, make him a flower crown?"

"i'm sure frank would look absolutely fabulous in one, gee, but this is for me and pete."

now frank's the one blushing. mikey's happy for them, he really is, but for god's sake he wants to vomit 90% of the time he's around them.

"right. uh, sometimes people exchange things that're important to them, y'know?"

"okay, yeah, what could i give him?"

both frank and gerard make an 'i don't know' noise. sometimes it's really fucking creepy, how in sync they are.

"worst best man ever," mikey says, rolling his eyes.

"i mean, for me, i'd write a song, maybe, or draw something? but you're not me, so."

"again, you giving me a rundown on how you'd propose to frank isn't helping me here. i'm seriously screwed if i can't come up with something."

"who says you have to? i mean, you haven't even asked him yet, and i'm pretty sure he won't care if you've got a ring or a fucking candy thong to give him," frank says.

which actually kinda makes sense. "jesus, alright. how should i ask, then?

"i dunno, that scavenger hunt thing seems pretty legit."

"don't tie yourself down to the first one you heard, though, there's a lot of different shit you could do," gerard reminds him.

"can't i just google it?" mikey groans.

Chapter Text

mikey is a nervous mess. he finally (sort of) figured out how to 'pop the question', as it were, but his whole plan is counting on seven vaguely irresponsible guys to be able to stay in one place for extended periods of time while keeping their big mouths shut, and. he's worried, to say the least.

he's been stationed under this awkwardly spindly tree for most of the day, texting furiously, trying to make sure his plan stays on track.

(after doing extensive googling that may or may not have lasted for twenty-seven hours, mikey decided that he couldn't decide on which idea to choose and so combined all of the ones he liked, which, in hindsight, was completely ridiculous.)

bob texts him and tells him that pete's got the basket and is headed off to find joe.

he really wishes he could have his brother with him, just to have someone to let his nerves out to, but as he doesn't know how long it'll take pete to go through the entire 'scavenger hunt', mikey elected to wait alone. which he's regretting now, because he feels so incredibly nervous.

if there's a hell, it's gotta be better than this, he thinks.

pete texts him a couple times over the course of the next hour or so, curious about the odd assortment of items he's been given and about where he's going, but mikey just replies with the next person for him to seek out.

he thinks if he says anything more than that, he'll just propose over text. which, while it might be easier, is so horrendously tacky that he cringes even thinking about it.

mikey's phone buzzes with a text from frank, saying that pete is on his way to gerard and patrick. (mikey figured that it'd be best to have the two of them together and last, seeing as they'll probably both end up as best men anyway.)

finally, his brother calls him. "he just walked away, now he's off to find you," he says. mikey can practically hear the excited smile in his voice.

"he'll be able to, right?" mikey asks.

"dude. your hint to him was 'from under the mikey tree' and there's literally no trees here except the one you're under. he's gonna do okay."

he nods unconsciously. "right, yeah. and he doesn't suspect anything?"

"no, he's just really weirded out. don't worry, though, he finds it endearing," patrick chimes in.

"okay. i'll let you know how it goes, i guess."

evidently mikey hangs up in the nick of time, because he sees pete walking towards him and lugging a shabby old easter basket full of what (to anyone but the two of them) looks like a bunch of random crap.

really, though, it's mikey's favourite coffee mug, a guitar pick with their initials sharpied on it, his brass knuckles necklace, a cheap plastic rose that he demanded ray get, a new notebook and pen (he'd noticed that pete's latest notebook was almost full a little while ago), and a starbucks gift card (which, yes, is lame, but in his defense, pete does drink starbucks more often than water), and one of his favorite hoodies.

"dude, i love you, but what the hell?" pete says, setting the basket down and giving mikey a look that's equal parts annoyed and amused.

"sorry," mikey says, then takes a deep breath. it's now or– well, not never, because he'll certainly try again if he can't do it now. "well, uh, i'm supposed to be on my knees for this, so that's a first, i guess."

he kneels down and fumbles with the crinkly package of the ring pop, thanking god that he gets it open with minimal trouble.

brandishing it like it's a weapon, he looks up at pete and says, "i know this isn't exactly the standard way to do it, but... you said it yourself, we're not standard. um, i really fucking love you. i told patrick that, when you were passed out in between us after we watched star wars together, and i kinda realised then that that's what i wanna be doing for the rest of my life. not telling patrick that i love you, i mean-"

pete starts cracking up.

glaring at him, mikey says, "shut up, i'm trying to propose here, this is serious business, alright? anyways, what i'm trying to say is... i wanna marry the shit outta you, pete wentz, if you'll have me."

there's silence for a moment, then pete takes the ring pop, examines it for a minute, then sticks it on his left ring finger.

"fuck you, mikeyway," he says.

"so?"

"i put the damn ring on, didn't i?"

"jesus fucking christ," mikey mutters, then stands and pulls pete into a kiss that is probably a little inappropriate, considering they're in a parking lot and anyone and their mother could happen across them, but it's not like mikey's complaining.

"fuck, fuck, what time is it?" pete says awhile later, pulling back slightly.

"shit, right, your set." he'd completely forgotten. but he supposes they can find time for this later. fuck, they have the rest of their lives for this, now.

pete takes his hand. "c'mon, i wanna show off the ring before i go on."

they don't walk more than five steps when frank runs up to them.

"so?" he says breathlessly, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"he said yes." mikey can't help but grin. he still can't wrap his head around the fact that he's gonna marry pete fucking wentz.

"oh, dude, congrats!" frank engulfs both of them in a tight hug. "so you're gonna let me be best man, right?"

"um, no?" says mikey, prying him off. "i kinda promised patrick and gerard that they could do it."

"wait, what?" pete asks, looking between them.

"yeah, i sort of... let them plan the whole wedding already?" it's already hard enough for mikey to say no to his brother, and with patrick's puppydog eyes thrown in, their pleas were irresistible.

"without knowing whether i'd say yes?"

"it's not like anything's set in stone, but they kinda got the idea of a spring wedding into their heads a few days ago and ran with it," frank puts in. "i walked away when they started arguing about flowers."

pete's nodding. "i mean, flowers are pretty important. what kind were they thinking of?"

shrugging, frank says, "fuck if i know."

"are you two seriously planning my wedding without me?"

"yes?"

"did somebody say wedding?" someone shouts. mikey's pretty sure it was gerard, and sure enough, he and patrick arrive within seconds.

patrick immediately tackles first mikey, then pete. "oh my god guys you're gonna be fucking married and it's gonna be so great i'm so fucking happy for you-"

"calm down, 'trick," pete laughs, hugging him back.

"i will not calm down, you're fucking engaged!"

gerard, thank god, is more subdued. "so, mom's gonna kill you."

"oh, god," mikey groans.

"yeah, she said she couldn't believe you were engaged when she hasn't even met the guy," says gerard.

"what am i supposed to do, stop the tour and bring him home?" mikey's not really surprised that his mom is more upset that she hasn't met pete than she is about him getting engaged after two months. she's always been cool.

"oh, christ, what if your mom doesn't like me?" pete asks, trying to disentangle himself from patrick. "what the hell am i supposed to do then?"

patrick, however, refuses to let go. "she'll love you. my mom did."

"yeah, but your mom met me before we were even a thing," counters pete. "so it's totally different."

"wait wait wait, you guys were together?" asks frank.

"dude, that's not common knowledge to you by now? even i knew," gerard says.

"seriously frank, get with the times," adds mikey.

"we can discuss this later, but we kinda do have a show to go do," patrick reminds them. he starts walking towards the stage, still holding onto pete.

"how did you know and not tell me?" frank asks gerard as they trail behind.

"i thought you knew man, everyone did," answers gerard, linking arms with his brother.

"well, i didn't."

Chapter Text

shopping for wedding dresses is way more chaotic than it looks in the movies. mikey was totally unprepared for it. he'd texted ray and asked him to be close by as a sort of backup in case his brother and fiancé went nuts. which they did, of course.

gerard, pete, and patrick practically have to accost him and drag him to a place that sells both dresses and tuxedos. (because, although mikey's relatively flexible about gender norms, he is most definitely not going to let his brother force him into some puffy horror of a dress). he has one foot out the door when he spots this badass leather tux (which, yeah, okay, is admittedly pretty epic) that, when he puts it on, has both pete and the salesgirl drooling over his ass.

gerard, always the attention whore, ends up trying on a dress at the same time as pete (which is cool, mikey's pretty sure his fiancé would look hot in pretty much anything). mikey is, however, ready to kill him for stealing pete's spotlight, but pete's bouncy and way too happy to be sharing so he broods silently in the corner instead.

"pat! pat! pat! pat! pat! pat! pat! pat! p--"

"what, pete?" patrick snaps, a little bit too harshly.

pete's lip starts to tremble in that tell-tale way that says he is about to cry, and patrick immediately regrets raising his voice.

"oh, i'm sorry peteypie," patrick says, going in to hug him. "i was just trying to assure this nice saleslady that we are going to behave and keep her store nice and clean for her next appointment. we have the whole place to ourselves until then."

"mmkay. but patrick?"

"yeah?"

"canyoutryonthisdressforme?" pete mumbles into his shoulder.

patrick is about to protest when he catches mikey giving him the stink eye in the corner. he decides he needs to stay on mikey's good side if he wants to be best man, so he takes a deep breath and asks, "which one?"

pete points to this chiffon nightmare in the center of the room (patrick has to remind himself he's doing this for his best friend) and asks if they have it in patrick's size. upon learning that they do, he squeals with delight then excitedly drags him into the dressing room.

mikey and gerard hear giggling coming from the dressing room while waiting and gerard makes a comment about girls on their wedding day. they lose it, falling to the floor and laughing hysterically. it's times like these that mikey's reminded how much he loves his brother.

pete comes back out, grinning widely, followed by a very red patrick and just when patrick thinks it cannot get worse, frank bursts into the store.

"ohmygod gee- patrick what are you wearing?" he bursts into very undignified laughter, pointing and snorting.

sometimes mikey wonders what his brother sees in frank.

eventually (and probably with the help of a miracle), mikey wrangles both pete and gerard back into the dressing room (despite his brother's comments about turning up naked to the wedding) but elects to keep patrick out with him just for laughs, rubbing his face into the shoulder of his big puffy dress to annoy him.

frank's sitting in between mikey and patrick, practically vibrating in his seat, when gerard and pete enter the white stage runway from either side and meet in the middle like supermodels. the opening to dance, dance is playing in the background and the room goes silent.

gerard stalks elegantly down the runway in a surprisingly classy, pale pink dress. frank has gone completely still and stares at him in utter adoration. mikey, on the other hand, has eyes only for pete in his black and white checkered wedding gown.

frank, in a moment of sudden inspiration (being the classy guy that he is, mikey thinks sarcastically), runs "backstage" screaming, "nobody move! i can fix it!" they hear banging and a faint thud followed by an "ow!" before he runs back out with this seven foot, hot pink, feathered monstrosity of a train and attaches it to gerard's ass, patting it affectionately in the process.

(mikey pretends not to see.)

patrick, desperate to regain some of his dignity, grabs his guitar (because he always has it on him- why not?) and explains an idea he'd had for an the alternative wedding bouquet.

"so, basically, petey, you get to throw the guitar and whoever catches it has to play it." he shoots a nervous glance to gerard, who was famously kicked out of his first band for being incapable of playing sweet home alabama and reasons, what are the chances gee is gonna catch it? it's a well known fact that he's terrible at sports.

"everyone here is pretty good so i'm sure whoever catches it will be fine."

nodding excitedly, pete throws patrick's baby up into the air and of course, gerard catches it, knocking over mikey and sending frank tumbling in the process. he starts playing a horribly off key intro to under pressure (reminding them all how terrible he is with a guitar). at some point in gerard's struggles, pete comes to the realization that gerard caught his 'bouquet'.

"holy shit, you caught it! oh my god, gee! you're next! oh my fucking god, gee we can get married together you and frank and me and mikey, dude! oh my god mikey mikey mikey, can we can we can we pleeeeease?" pete shrieks, turning to mikey.

gerard is still trying (and failing) to play patrick's guitar while frank fawns over him, lovingly rearranging his fingers in an attempt to teach him. patrick is trying (and failing) to calm the saleslady who is shrieking over the huge mess frank's made in the dressing rooms when ray coolly walks in, grabbing the guitar from gee and placing his fedora on patrick's head.

"what?" he says. "i think it looks hot."

after everyone's been calmed down and the guitar has been pried away from gerard (for the sake of music, never pick one up again, patrick thinks) pete pulls everyone into a big hug.

"love you, guys. this is gonna be great."

Chapter Text

there's no dramatic goodbye between them, no drastic gestures. at least, not at first.

instead, they just stand there for a moment, staring at each other. they're surrounded by everyone laughing and talking and kissing, but mikey's silences have always said more than most people do in a day.

suddenly he surges forward and hugs pete. "fucking call me, okay?"

if pete didn't know better, he'd say mikey was choked up. as it is, he's burying his face in pete's neck and holding him tightly.

"'course i will. we're fuckin' engaged, remember?" he doesn't ever wanna let go, but gerard's calling mikey and telling him it's time to get going.

mikey kisses the top of his head. "i gotta go."

pete nods as mikey takes a step back, swiping at his eyes. he looks down, like what he wants to say is written in the odd geometric carpet of the airport.

"'m gonna miss you, peter panda." he meets pete's eyes again and manages a weak smile.

"gonna miss you too, mikeyway."

"i'm coming back," mikey says. he's probably trying for determined, but his voice is shaking. "i'm gonna come back."

pete holds up his left hand and attempts a grin. (the plastic ring from the ring pop mikey proposed with is still on his finger.)

"you have to, now. you always have to come back. you're mine."

and that's it. mikey joins his brother and the rest of his band, dabbing at his eyes with his hoodie sleeve.

pete watches him go. his phone rings not a minute later.

mikey starts talking, low and quick, before pete can get a word in. "i fucking love you, okay? and i promise, i'm gonna come back the second this tour is done and i'm gonna fuckin' marry you."

"i know," whispers pete. it's somehow more real now, like it's finally setting in that he's found someone he wants to spend forever with.

"i love you."

"i know."

he hears a little giggle. "shut the hell up, han solo."

"does that make you my princess leia?"

"fuck you, i have to go get on a plane."

"have fun in europe, mikes."

mikey sighs. "yeah."

Chapter Text

"ugh, 'trick, i just miss him so much."

"pete, i love you, i really do, but it's been ten minutes."

it's only been eight and a half, technically, since mikey got on the plane. not that pete's been counting or anything. he's currently whining to patrick as they drive back from the airport.

"yeah, but we just got engaged, i'm allowed to be obnoxious, okay?"

patrick rolls his eyes. "uh-huh."

it's true, though, pete really does miss mikey already. he's gotten so used to their constant physical contact that he feels a little like he's missing part of himself. he'll probably substitute patrick as his cuddling partner while mikey's away.

which is okay, because while pete loves mikey a lot, trying to cuddle him is like spooning a broken pencil. he's just too angular. it's endearing, really.

"don't be rude, lunchbox. he's my fiancé and he's gonna be gone for a long time. let me bitch about it for a minute."

so patrick does, because he's pete's best friend and it's his job. he seems to know that pete needs touch, almost as much as he needs someone to listen. he rests his hand on pete's thigh, and it's just. it's right.

when pete finally finishes ranting (albeit in extended metaphor) about mikey's laugh, he looks at patrick.

"don't know why you put up with me, honestly."

"like i said, i love you." he says it in an odd, soft voice that pete hasn't heard from him in four years.

"patrick?"

Chapter Text

okay, so maybe patrick is jealous. but in his own defense, he's been in love with pete since he was sixteen, and it's not easy to get over your first love.

of course, not everyone's first love is pete wentz.

still, he can't help but feel guilty. pete's going to need him more than ever now, while mikey's away. he's gonna need his best friend, and patrick... doesn't want to be his best friend. (they tried, once, to be more, but pete was busy drowning in his own mind back then, and besides, it wasn't their time.)

that doesn't mean he won't be there for pete. he just has to hide how he feels, as disgustingly cliché as that sounds. but he slips up sometimes.

"patrick?"

he knew he fucked up the second the words left his mouth.

"nothing, i- it's nothing." he puts both hands on the steering wheel and takes a couple deep breaths.

"no, it's not nothing, 'trick, i- what did you mean?"

patrick sighs. "i meant what i said, pete. i love you."

"well, hey, i love you too-"

"no, pete, i love you."

"patrick," pete breathes. "you... you can't."

"that's why i said it was nothing, alright? i know i can't."

"i'm... i'm so sorry."

"yeah."

Chapter Text

pete lies in bed, listening to the sounds of his sleeping bandmates around him. his phone buzzes and his heart breaks into a thousand pieces as he reads the text from mikey.

mikey: liquid fire pours out of my eyes
as i watch you say good-bye

pete's eyeliner runs down his face as he reads the text.

pete: the stream crosses valleys and hills
leaving black destruction in its wake
covering my face


mikey holds his tears until they fill the brims of his eyes, blurring his vision until they spill over.

mikey: my vision goes blind
won’t i see you one last time?
but this is the end-
that i know


pete: an era has passed
god, please, make it last
make the lessons i learned stay with me


mikey: may the memories, the love, the pain and the gain
remain to keep my soul company


(drama queen) pete (rivaling even gerard): and when i move on
when my heart beats again
let the recollections give me the strength that i need


mikey: perchance i will dream

pete: in my slumber, stay with me

mikey: hold my hand one last time

pete: and kiss me goodnight

mikey: “to sleep, perchance to dream” (“hamlet” 3.1.66)

pete: ...

mikey: what?! i learned a lot working in barnes and noble

pete: love you :*

mikey calls pete.

"hi peteypie."

"hi mikeyway."

"i just wanted to hear your voice."

"me too. what time is it by you?"

"just past 1am. you?"

"10am. but we're gonna be traveling the whole day. gig starts at 9pm tonight."

"do you think you could stay on the phone with me? just till i fall asleep."

"i'll stay on until you wake up. i'll listen to you sleep like a creep and i'll be happy."

"good. i want you to be happy."

"love you, peteypie. sweet dreams."

"love you, mikeyway. to the moon and back."

pete drifts off, listening to the sound of mikey's soft humming, a little tone-deaf lullaby, just for him. and on the other side of the world, mikey closes his eyes. a tiny smile plays across his lips, as pete’s cute little snores harmonize with his terribly adorable singing. the soft bounce of the bus rocks him to sleep, and all the while, the call stays connected.

he types out one last message for pete to wake up to.

mikey: for while we are apart, love tethers our affection. be it near or far, our hearts stay the connection

Chapter Text

"gerard says we'll make this work because we've got true love on our side, i think his exact words were 'buttercup and westley true love, and that's fucking legit'. what does that even mean?"

pete groans. "i can't believe i agreed to marry a loser who's never seen the princess bride. consider the engagement off until you watch it."

this doesn't worry mikey deeply. pete has called off their engagement exactly seventeen times in the two months they've been apart, his reasons varying from a drunken "i need to live my free life as an independent woman who don't need no man, mikey" to "because gabe and bill need to get married first, mikes, and that's not gonna happen unless i spend my time trying to teach bill how to use a fucking brush and convincing gabe that his vows do indeed need to be in english so he's not reciting the ingredients to a sandwich at the fucking altar". mikey's not entirely unconvinced that's not something gabe would do.

"okay, but why does it matter if we have buttercup and westley love? i think our love is probably stronger than a couple of fictional-"

"you shut your filthy mouth, michael. i dare you to watch the princess bride and then tell me anyone can have a love stronger than they do," pete says, then hangs up.

sometimes mikey really regrets proposing to a literal four-year-old.

later, he asks frank about it, and his eyes get misty even trying to describe the profound love shared between buttercup and westley. mikey figures if even frank is crying, then maybe he should actually watch the movie as see what pete's on about.

gerard agrees to watch it with him, "for moral support, obviously. what kind of sibling would i be if i didn't watch the princess bride with my brother?"

by the end of the movie, gerard (who has been crying for forty minutes because "they have true love, dammit. he came back from the fucking dead for her, mikey!") and frank (who threw himself at gerard's feet and loudly proclaimed that he'd come back from the dead for him, causing them both to cry even more) are both emotional messes.

honestly, mikey's not too far behind them. watching this fucking movie about true love reminds him how much he misses pete.

"jesus christ, dude. that movie was a cinematic masterpiece," he tells pete later that night.

"told you so," pete replies, and mikey knows he's making his smug face, thousands of miles away. "wedding's back on."

"oh, shut it."

"make me," singsongs pete.

mikey rolls his eyes. "how the fuck am i gonna make you, dude? in case you forgot, there's a fucking ocean between us."

"don't remind me." he sighs. "when are you coming home?"

"i told you, in a few months if they don't add more dates."

"come home sooner." he sounds like a petulant child and somehow it just makes mikey miss him more.

"you know i can't."

"you need to work on your timing, y'know that? one second you're on your knees for me-"

"oh, fuck off," mikey interjects, smiling, but pete keeps going.

"-and the next you're being whisked away on tour. you really did pick the worst time to propose."

"if i hadn't, i could've lost you. so i think it's a fair trade."

pete's quiet for a minute. "is that why you did it? just to be sure you'd still have me?"

"of course not. i asked you to marry me because i want to spend the rest of my life with you, idiot."

"oh. seriously?"

"no, i just proposed for the fucking tax benefits."

Chapter Text

"pete has literally gone insane from missing you, dude. it was cute, at first, and everyone was happy for him and proud that he was in a stable and healthy relationship, but after yesterday we realized that we needed to get him to you, like, asap."

"what happened?" mikey asks.

"he refused to let anyone, even patrick, cuddle him or even hug him, claiming he missed you too much to touch anyone. he even cried a little when he started mumbling about you being mad or something, so-"

"i'll be there in like, two days at the absolute max."

god. he didn't know that pete was this bad. he doesn't know why he's gotten like this so quickly, but he knows he needs to fix it.

it takes him exactly eleven phone calls and three hours to get everything in order so he can leave the tour for a few days. (brian yells at him for ten minutes then sighs at him, and mikey knows that means they'll manage.)

andy is at the airport to pick him up and take him to pete. "thanks for calling, man."

he nods. "no problem."

 

he gets to the room where they've managed to convince pete to stay (andy explained on the way over that pete gets flighty when he gets like this, and after the best buy incident, no one's taking any chances).

joe is leaning against the wall texting. (it takes a moment for mikey to register that he's there as a sort of guard or something.) he looks up and nods at the door.

"he's in there with patrick."

"thanks."

he takes a deep breath to prepare himself for whatever he finds on the other side of that door.

as soon as he walks into the room he realizes things are worse than he thought.

pete is curled around a pillow on the bed and patrick is sitting in a chair with his head in his hands. both look up when they hear him come in.

"mikey," patrick says, looking simultaneously relieved and apprehensive.

after evaluating the scene, mikey knows that they're both messes right now, and he knows pete at least needs some firmness to help him get himself together, so he puts his stern voice on before he starts talking.

he decides to tackle the lesser of two evils and talk to patrick first.

"listen. you belong to pete. pete belongs to me. that means you belong to me too. and i expect you to act in my stead while i am away."

"i tried!" patrick protests, but mikey shushes him and turns to pete.

"pete. i know it's hard for you, but i expect you to let yourself be taken care of."

pete makes a small noise of protest and makes grabby hands at mikey, who makes him wait.

"who do you belong to?"

"you," pete whispers.

"that's right. you're mine, pete wentz. what would you do if i told you to watch my puppy for the week? would you kick it? not pet it at all because im not there?"

"of course not. i would never hurt something of yours," pete says, looking confused.

"then who gave you permission to hurt yourself?"

pete's eyes widen as the depth of that dawns on him.

mikey finally pulls him close and presses a kiss into his hair. he feels some of the tension in pete's body melt away, and he knows he's doing okay.

"you are mine. you too patrick. figure out how to take care of each other because you are the most valuable jewels i have and i expect you to handle each other, and yourselves, with care."

"i missed you," pete whispers, looking up at him.

"i know," mikey replies softly. patrick's just standing there uncomfortably, so mikey reaches a hand out and pulls him closer.

"get over here patrick. we need to have a talk."

the three of them move over to the couch, pete's head nestled against mikey's chest.

"now i understand we all have different definitions about what 'taking care' means. obviously, cuddling is okay. mandatory even. i think dr. mikey shall have to prescribe some mandatory cuddling. for the all around well being of my lovely patients, of course."

mikey pulls patrick against his other side.

"well, practice does make perfect," patrick laughs.

"now, patrick. anything you and pete want to do above the belt is fine. you may not move below the belt. i haven't even moved below the belt yet."

pete blushes a little at that but doesn't say anything.

"uh, actually, mikey, i'm ace, buddy. i mean, kissing and cuddling, and even the occasional hickey is fine, but that's about as steamy as it gets for me. i probably want to go below pete's belt as much as pete is slowly realizing he wants you to. wait, no," he says. frowning slightly. mikey patiently waits for him to continue.

"that came out wrong. to be blunt, pete really wants your dick bro. he just doesn't know how to say it. i don't want any of that from you. or anyone, really. in fact, i've just filled my quota of talking about sex for one day. i'm gonna go cuddle with, like, a stuffed unicorn or something. pete- tell him what you want."

he drops a quick kiss on pete's forehead, turns bright pink, and heads out the door.

"they okay?" joe asks from the hallway.

"they're good," patrick replies, and mikey thinks he sees him take joe's hand as the door closes, but he can't be sure.

he turns his attention back to his fiancé.

pete's looking down at his feet before he speaks. "so, uh... about what patrick said. i, um. i kinda do want... what he said."

mikey is suprised. after the whole 'oh god i'm pan' incident, he figured pete wouldn't want anything to do with dick, ever. "you do?"

"i mean... i never really thought i would, with anyone, but... i don't know. never mind."

"hey, hey. tell me."

"i don't really know how to explain it, but... it's you,i guess. and i want all of you. but i... i've never really done anything like this before, so."

"that's totally okay. we can go as slow as you need to."

"yeah?"

mikey nods. "i'd be honored to be your first."

"oh, shut up. i've gotten laid before," pete says, grinning a little.

"you know what i meant, loser."

he leans in and kisses pete gently.

 

 

mikey is lying on top of pete on the hotel bed, leisurely kissing his fiancé's neck. he sucks a mark on pete's collarbone then makes his way up pete's neck, kissing his jawline, and finally his lips.

"can't get rid of me anymore," he jokes. "that mark on your neck says you're mine."

pete smiles as he bites behind mikey's ear. evidently he's not as inexperienced at this as he claims, because it feels pretty damn good.

"can't get rid of me anymore," quips pete. "I know all of your sweet spots," he says, licking over the hickey as mikey shivers with arousal and anticipation.

they start kissing in earnest, barely coming up for air, when mikey's phone buzzes in his pocket, once, twice, three times a charm. he pulls away from the kiss, trying to get his phone out, but pete grabs his hand.

"don't."

"oh, i'm not checking it, babe. i would never do that. i'm just gonna throw it on the table."

his phone buzzes twice more and pete's eyes close as mikey tries to get his phone out of his pocket again.

"no- don't," says pete. he blushes a deep red. "...i like it."

mikey's eyes widen in understanding as his phone buzzes again. pete's eyes fall shut in bliss and mikey ruts against him.

"you like that, babe? like having my phone be your own personal little vibrator? i think, next concert you have, you're gonna go on stage with your phone in your pants. and i'm gonna text you the whole time. text after text. and you're gonna know it's me, giving you that pleasure. but you won't be able to touch, no- in fact, not allowed to. not until you get back to the room. and when you do, you're gonna let me know, and you're gonna lie down right on top of the phone, pressing it against yourself, and i'm gonna call you. over and over until you're right on the brink. and when you think that you can't hold it back even a second longer, you're gonna answer my call. then, and only then, i'm gonna let you come. i'm gonna drive you wild."

mikey's phone continues buzzing as he claims pete's mouth in a possessive kiss.

"come now, love. now."

and pete does.

pete's face as he comes is all mikey needs to follow his fiancé into that small, but perfect death. (he can't believe he gets to have that for the rest of his life.)

afterward, they lay on the bed, cuddling for a while, too blissed out to move. at some point, their clothes were lost in the shuffle and they lie peacefully, bodies pressed against one another in an act of pure, innocent comfort. mikey's phone has finally stopped buzzing and pete is nodding off on his shoulder, mikey stroking his hair softly. pete's fingers trace lazy patterns all over mikey's skin, just familiarizing himself more and more with the feel of his fiance’s body as he drifts to sleep.

“mikey?”

“yeah, peteypie?”

“i don't think i'm pansexual anymore,” he mumbles into mikey's chest.

“oh?"

"mmhmm. i think i'm mikeysexual,” says pete as he falls asleep with a shit eating grin on his face.

mikey's face glows as he opens his phone to 47 texts from his brother. (most, if not all, of them are memes.)

he replies with a quick 'what'.

gee: i missed you

mikey: was a bit busy;) miss you too bro

gee: ooh busy? go get your petey, tiger!

gee: oh did I interrupt with all my texts?

mikey: nope. in fact, you gave us just what we needed to.. finish, shall we say

gerard is silent for a moment as he works it out. then he flips his shit. he finishes texting his brother as frank comes in to see what all the screaming is about. he pulls his boy into a steamy kiss, and on the other size of the world, mikey opens his phone.

gee: you owe me one, brother mine ;)

Chapter Text

mikey cuddles up close to gerard on the couch and hits the call button on skype. the app barely rings once before pete answers, his screen mirroring mikey's with pete curled up next to patrick.

"mikey!" exclaims pete.

"petey!" exclaims mikey.

"hi pat," says gee, petting mikey's hair to ward off any tears.

"hi pat," says mikey, poking his head out from under gee's shoulder and smiling with a little wave.

"hi gee," answers patrick. "hi mikey," he adds, with a smile.

"where are the others?" asks patrick, while pete starts rapping his leg against the ground.

"they went to a holiday party. ray told me to say hi to joe for him. where are your others?"

"joe and andy are on panic's bus tonight. brendon told them he'd show them a traditional mormon christmas. i assume he's gonna get them shitfaced or high." patrick looks thoughtful for a moment. "probably both," he concludes.

pete's tapping gets louder until he's practically vibrating in his seat. gerard looks at him and fondly thinks of frankie. "is your little emo okay there?" he asks with a smile. "he looks like he's gonna explode."

"pete, you wanna show mikey what you got him for christmas?"

pete just bounces harder, climbing into patrick's lap.

patrick pries something out of pete's clenched fist and pete grabs it back, showing mikey a crumpled piece of paper.

"you got me.... a beautiful paper snowball...?" asks mikey.

patrick grabs the paper back and smoothes it out then puts it in front of the camera so mikey can see.

"gift receipt for michael james unicorn way... (and seriously how did pete convince anyone that mikey way's middle name is unicorn)... to signify purchase of..." mikey squints, trying to read the less than smooth paper. "A RING????!!!! YOU GOT ME A RING!!!!!! PATRICK MOVE THE FUCKING PAPER AWAY!"

mikey bounces up and down, hugging gee, and pete bounces up and down, hugging pat, and gee starts shrieking, "my baby brother is getting married!!" patrick just sits there smiling.

"i love my little emo family."

Chapter Text

"well, damn. that's, uh, that's a good question. gender's not- it's not really something a lot of people feel real comfortable talking about, or hearing about, but..." he pauses and squints at the screen.

"i'm a faggot? hear that, frankie? backtrucker69 called me a faggot. ain't that nice?" he turns the camera so frank's in the background of the shot, sprawled on the couch and fucking around on his phone.

he just holds up a middle finger and doesn't even look up. gerard laughs.

"anyway, i've never been one to let what makes people uncomfortable dictate what i wanna say, so. gender, for me, hasn't ever really been black and white like society seems to think it needs to be. it's like, instead of these boxes everyone is somehow sorted into at birth, people should think of it as everyone having their own little bubble, y'know? unique to everyone. but, uh, back to my original point.

"so, i've always identified a fair amount with the female gender, which probably isn't a suprise to anyone. there was a time where i was called a girl so often that i kind of considered myself to be more of a girl, when i discovered the idea of transgenderism. uh, when i was younger, i went to school - art school - and tried something out. as kind of an experiment, y'know? so i went to school in drag, and my day was completely different because everyone thought i was a chick."

he pauses for breath and looks at the comments. "yeah, you should see me as a chick. but yeah, i went as a girl, as like an experiment, and, uh, it worked really well and everyone was really nice to me." he laughs suddenly. "i looked hot as a chick." frank mutters "amen to that," in the background.

"anyway, people probably wanna give me shit for that, or for my fucked up gender identity, but that's not what really fucking matters. about me, or you, or anyone, y'know? that's just a label society has provided for people to try to quantify us, to try and find the box that's closest to that, but we're just us. don't let anyone try to define you. you're all fucking beautiful and only you know who you truly are. labels don't matter."

frank, who went offscreen sometime during gerard's rant, suddenly pops back into the frame. "label this, fuckers," he says, staring dead into the camera, then turns and kisses gerard.

gerard giggles then sighs into the kiss. "so, uh, yeah," he says to the camera when frank lets go of his face and plops down next to him. "i think you broke the comments," he adds.

frank just laughs. "well hey, why not? give the assholes somethin' to bitch about."

he reads a few out loud. "'frerard 4 lyf!'... 'too cute'... 'guys stop talking about frerard frank's just being supportive'... 'omg, that was so hot!!' well, yeah. everything this one does is hot," he says, angling his head towards gerard.

"oh, look at that one, frankie. someone noticed the ring." gerard points at the screen and frank leans over his shoulder to look.

"hey, might as well show it off," says frank, grinning.

gerard holds up his left hand briefly. "see?"

"that's right, this ass is mine now," frank announces.

gerard flushes bright red. "show 'em yours too."

"which one?"

"the actual ring, stupid."

frank shoves him. "shut up, loser." he pulls a chain out from under the collar of his shirt. a delicate ring dangles there, but the camera isn't focused well enough to show what it looks like. he drops the necklace almost as quickly as he pulled it out.

"yeah, well you're gonna marry this loser," gerard says, scrunching his nose. "oooh, oooh, show 'em the tattoo!"

frank rolls his eyes but holds up his left hand. he's got a fine black band encircling his ring finger.

"i figured, since he's always throwin' himself around onstage, it'd be better if he wore his ring around his neck, y'know?" explains gerard, lacing his fingers through frank's.

"closer to my heart that way too," frank adds, smiling softly.

"shuddup."

"anyway, we're engaged. in case that wasn't clear."

they watch the stream of comments for awhile, hand in hand, until gerard breaks the silence.

"tell 'em about why you picked your ring, frankie."

"only if you tell them about yours first," frank replies.

"alright, well, i chose this beautiful, black, raw diamond with a simple silver band. it's a little rough around the edges, and its worth isn't immediately apparent, but with the right amount of effort, it's got the potential for amazing things, just like any good relationship. just like our relationship," he says.

frank looks a little awestruck. "man, that's fuckin' deep."

gerard nods, satisfied. "your turn."

"so, um.. mine has tattoos and... that's pretty much why i picked it," he says, rolling his lip ring between his teeth and making it clink. he lifts the chain around his neck and holds it up long enough for the fans to see a beautiful white gold ring. sprawling black lines climb like ivy up each side, meeting in the middle to showcase a small diamond, set deep in the thick band.

"but this is my true ring," he says, showing the simple black line circling his finger again. he looks right into gerard's eyes. "this is my promise that i'll love you for-fucking-ever, and would quite literally give my left hand before i would let something come between us. i can never lose it... and i can never lose you."

"aww, frankie," gerard coos. he leans in and pecks frank's cheek.

the camera feed cuts out and there's a bit of rustling before gerard says, "what happened?"

there's a lot of hushed whispering that goes on before someone says, "i got it."

the camera comes back on, with pete's face incredibly close to it.

"back up man," frank complains.

"shhh, i'm fixing it, okay?" pete's hand passes in front of the camera before his face comes into view. "is that better?"

"no, asshole, your face is blocking the camera," bitches frank.

"shyaah, i made it better."

pete backs up a little, and a long fingered hand comes into view, wrapped around pete's chest from behind, softly pulling him backward.

mikey is with them now, whispering something in pete's ear that makes him blush, and is that a hint of a...?

"it's all good," mikey says, still pulling pete backward, then sitting down on the couch. pete smiles at him and settles into his lap. mikey's hands curl around his waist, but pete is pretty small and oh, that was lower than expected - pete gasps and grabs the object closest to him - frank - to cover himself.

"no way, motherfucker," he says, jumping off pete's lap and scurrying to the other side of the room. pete struggles in mikey's lap for a minute, mikey smiling evilly, before he grabs the throw pillows from behind gerard, sending his brother toppling.

"so how did your ring thing go?" asks mikey from behind a very flustered pete. he flashes a charming but mischeivous smile and pointedly ignores the chaos he just caused.

"it went great," says gerard, beaming as he gets up off the floor, dusts himself off, and goes to sit on frankie.

"mmhmm, we explained 'em to everyone," frank adds. he's wrapped around gerard, looking happier than ever.

"oh, look, pete, someone asked if you were wearing a ring," gerard says.

"meh. mine's not that special," pete says, briefly flashing his hand. a black gold band circles his finger, small black diamonds sprinkled up the sides, topped by a black diamond crown. it almost resembles the fall out boy logo. "it's mikey that's got the interesting story behind his."

"sheesh, so much ring-related shit today," mikey says, but he's smiling. he shows off his ring, a simple distressed silver band, blackened and just a little beaten up. "there's actually a message that comes with mine. it's kinda heavy but i think it needs to be said. i don't want any of you to ever feel ashamed for showing your scars. see my ring? flawed and yet, still beautiful... it's like me. i have flaws, and i'm gonna flaunt them. because every hit i took, every time i beat myself up, every fight i lost to my own damn mind-"

he cuts himself off and his eyes squeeze shut. pete takes his hand and kisses it softly. he takes a deep breath and continues. "all of those flaws, all the shit i've been through makes me... me. i'm not perfect, no one is. and sometimes, even the strong are allowed to break. pete taught me that," he says, pressing a kiss to the side of his fiance's head. pete smiles at him. "my petey has taught me a lot."

"well damn. i'm gonna puke, that was so sappy," says frank.

"way to ruin the moment, dude," responds mikey, but he doesn't look too put off, pressing kisses to the back of pete's neck and ears.

gerard leans over and nudges pete away so he can kiss mikey's forehead.

he mumbles something softly to him. mikey nods.

"hey, love you," he says. "'m happy for you."

"happy for you too, gee."

he kisses mikey's cheek and goes back to frank.

"so should we answer some questions, or let 'em wonder?" frank asks when gerard is once again draped over him.

"nah, they can speculate all they want. they won't know the true story," says mikey.

"they'll know parts of it. i've already got a couple songs in the works," pete admits with a smile. "next album!"

Chapter Text

"'trick. 'trick. patrick. paaaatriiick."

"dude, what?"

"that's the dude from mcr, isn't it?"

patrick glances up. "yeah, pete, he's kind of the frontman of the band."

pete shakes his head. "no, no, the one next to him. the one with glasses."

"that's his brother."

"what's his name?"

"mikey, or something."

"mikey," pete muses, continuing to stare across the crowded room. "solid name. suits him. what's he do in the band?"

"bass."

"he's pretty, isn't he? in a skinny, nerdy sort of way. i dig the joy division shirt," he says, staring.

"yes. now quit bothering me and go talk to him, i know you want to." he's annoyed, pete can tell (probably because he's not legal yet and so can't drink, pete's pretty sure - despite everyone's constant urging that he just drink anyway), but he really can't be bothered to stop talking.

"i do. i so do."

"then do it," patrick says. he walks over to joe and starts talking animatedly to him about something pete can't make out.

he thinks about going over and talking to mikey way, but decides not to. he'll bide his time for now.

one of the other guys from mcr (iero, he thinks) comes up to him with beer on his breath and an odd look in his eye.

"you've been starin' at mikey for, like, half the night, dude."

"yes."

"don't- don't do nothin', though. he's with gee tonight." iero wobbles a little but his voice is firm.

"don't worry your pretty little head about that. why's gerard need a babysitter, anyway?"

"noneya business, that's why." he thinks for a second, then leans in. "if someone's not with him he gets up to all sorts of crazy shit. tonight's mikey's turn to make sure he doesn't wind up in another state by morning."

"got it."

"don't tell anyone 'bout that. 'ts a secret."

pete nods solemnly. "cross my heart and hope to die."

he decides not to make any sort of move on the oddly beautiful dude across the bar until he doesn't have to babysit his alcoholic older brother. instead he butts his way into patrick and joe's conversation

Chapter Text

apparently thursday is a hotel night. and mikey. mikey wants to spend it with pete.

pete is ambivalent about this.

he's looking forward to having alone time with mikey (that's not restricted to being cramped in either of their bunks or behind the buses) but at the same time he is. very nervous.

mikey doesn't exactly have a reputation for being celibate. quite the opposite, really. (not to say that he's a slut, or anything, just- that he knows his way around. which is an awkward metaphor, but. pete's- he doesn't wanna think about it.)

so needless to say pete is- yeah. he's nervous. very.

"i mean- we just started dating- are we dating? what are we? anyway. we're just- and he's not- i don't want to."

"right," gerard says. "and you chose to talk to me about this because...?"

"i, um. i don't know. you guys are close? and i'm- patrick said if he heard another word about mikey that he'd find a new lyricist so- and he's the one i usually turn to? and i don't know, really. i'll- i'll talk to someone else."

"no, pete, wait."

pete looks at him. he's scared of what might happen thursday, yeah, but he's, like, thirty times more afraid of gerard.

"listen, he's not gonna expect you to do anything or force you, so don't worry. probably he's just gonna ask you to spoon and watch jaws, the nerd."

"spooning? i can- i can do spooning. yeah. okay."

"so don't worry. he seems scary but really, he's a dork that likes movies too much," he says, smiling.

"i'm- we're, uh. thank you."

 

it's thursday. (only barely. it's 12:17. but still. it counts.) pete is about to jump out of his skin with how nervous he is.

mikey effin' way: yo. dont b nervous

petepanda: not nervous

mikey effin' way: lies. i know you

petepanda: k maybe a lil nervous? not rlly tho

mikey effin' way: dont worry bby. nothins gonna happen

petepanda: pinky promise?

mikey effin' way: double pinky promise.

pete smiles. mikey always makes him feel better. maybe tonight won't be so bad.

Chapter Text

mikey and frank are doing an interview with some woman who has more ink than skin (frank stared appreciatively at all her tattoos for a good five minutes before the interview actually started).

gerard's watching them, waiting for frank to finish, when pete appears out of nowhere and sits next to him.

(he knows pete's still uneasy around him, even though he tries to hide it.)

"oh- hey," he says, smiling. he's trying to be less of a 'scary older brother' now that pete and mikey are engaged, but it doesn't seem to be helping pete's nerves much.

pete looks spooked but says, "hey."

they watch as frank nearly hits mikey in the eye while gesturing enthusiastically about something.

"listen, i know we sort of got off on the wrong foot," gerard begins.

"what? did i- i mean-"

shaking his head quickly, gerard says, "no, no, i didn't mean it like that. just that- i know you're pretty scared of me, and that i make you uncomfortable, but... i dunno, i just figure if you and mikey are gonna get married eventually, we should be on better terms."

mikey decides his favorite movie is definitely dawn of the dead before pete says, "what do you mean?"

"just that i think it'd be a good idea if you didn't shit yourself every time we're in the same room. we're gonna be family, so-"

"i'd like that," pete blurts. he looks at gerard (a little unsteadily, but there's none of the usual fear in his eyes).

"cool."

the interviewer thanks mikey and frank and they come over.

"you two playing nice?" frank asks, eyeing gerard.

"what are you, in a rom-com? we're fucking fine," gerard says. frank laughs at him and offers his hand. gerard takes it and lets frank haul him up.

mikey leans down and says something quietly to pete. gerard can't tell what it is, but pete's response makes mikey smile in a way he hasn't seen in years.

he's sure now more than ever that pete is a pretty special guy if he can get that out of mikey. before he lets frank drag him off to the bus ("for a nap" is what he said, although he had the smirk on his face that told gerard exactly what he had in mind) he grabs pete's arm and pulls him into a hug. pete returns the hug with a bewildered look on his face but says nothing.

they go their separate ways but gerard knows he made pete understand him.

Chapter Text

"star wars is way better than star trek."

 

"are you kidding me?! how are we even dating? star trek is clearly the better show."

 

"fuck off, frankie, star wars rules," gerard spits, annoyed.

 

pete looks at mikey with bewilderment. "battle of the nerds," he mutters under his breath, still looking at the tv.

 

"care to repeat that, gee?" asks frank. his voice has gone stony and his eyes are hard.

 

pete barely hears gerard's response, but watches in shock as the smaller man straddles his much taller boyfriend, putting a hand on each shoulder and forcing him to sit up straight against the back of the couch.

 

"what was that, slut?" gerard looks down, head facing forward, back ramrod straight. his tangled black hair falls into his eyes, hiding his face from pete.

 

"nothing, sir."

 

"so you admit star trek is the better series?"

 

"never, sir."

 

"someone is angling for a punishment."

 

"how ’bout I suck your cock to make it up to you?" gerard says, looking up at frank.

 

"how about you earn that right?"

 

mikey has his eyes on the movie still but pete is watching in horror and fascination. "mikey, they're-"

 

mikey doesn't even look away from the screen. "yeah, they do that sometimes."

 

"but frank- he-" pete stops, not knowing what to say. "gee should be allowed to think star wars is better."

 

"of course he should. it's clearly the superior series," he says matter-of-factly.

 

"but mikey, they're- aren't you gonna?"

 

"what? oh, you're worried about gerard? that's precious. they're just playing, don't worry. they do that a lot. you'll get used to it eventually. next week it'll be gee calling frank daddy or being punished for hooking up with one of the techs."

 

pete looks back at frank sucking hickeys into gerard's neck. "but... they're in public."

 

"uh-huh. they like that."

 

"i-" pete swallows hard.

 

"hey, frank. you mind taking your boy back to the bunks?" frank pulls away from gerard, whose eyes are blown wide with lust. He looks almost indignant, which confuses pete even further.

 

nodding, frank turns to gerard and orders, "slut. bunk. crawl."

 

pete whimpers. "holy shit."

 

"hey, it's all good baby. you're good. you're here with me." mikey moves closer to cuddle and comfort his petey. "it's all good baby," he repeats.

 

"mmhmm," affirms pete, mumbling the words into mikey's neck.

 

and if mikey feels something poking his leg, well, he doesn't say anything teases pete mercilessly because he's mikey fucking way.

 

and if either of them has a dark spot on their black jeans when frank and gerard come back out, well, no one mentions anything gerard makes a huge deal and ends up back by the bunks, faint smacking noises emerging from behind the thin curtain.

Chapter Text

mikey has been super chill with pete needing to take things at a glacial pace when it comes to below the waist. the most they've done is make out and grind on each other like a couple of horny teenagers, and mikey insists he's okay with just that, but pete knows he'll probably want more eventually.

he thinks, after awhile, he might be ready for it too. it's not like he's uncomfortable being seen naked or anything (god knows he sleeps naked all the time and pretty much everyone he knows has seen him naked), he just kind of has a mental block concerning it. but he knows if he talks to mikey about it, they can probably work through things.

it takes him awhile to build up the courage, but eventually he asks mikey if they can talk.

"if you're calling off the engagement again, i swear to god, pete," mikey says, smiling.

"hey, the last few times were totally valid. gabe totally needs to get with bill before we can get married," pete insists.

"pete. they're not even together."

"exactly. which is why they need my help. they're perfect for each other, they just don't know it yet."

mikey rolls his eyes at pete fondly. "so what did you want to talk about?"

"right, that." pete takes a deep breath. "i, um. so... i'm, uh, i've been thinking about... maybe we- i mean, i-"

mikey takes his hand and shushes him. "just talk to me. you can tell me anything, remember?"

"i remember."

"so spill."

"i've been thinking, and... i-i want to... with you."

he thanks god for mikey's mind reading powers, because he really has no idea how to say this.

"you do?"

he nods hesitantly and looks up at mikey.

"are you sure?"

"yeah, I think so."

"you think so? pete, i- this isn't something you think you want to do, baby. i want you to be completely sure. and if you don’t want to, it's completely fine,okay?"

"it's not that i don't want to, i-"

"pete, it's okay. we don't have to-"

"i want to!" pete insists. "i just... don't know how to."

"that's okay, you don’t need to know. that’s what I'm here for."

pete looks down and blushes.

“can you.. um.. canyoutellmewhattodo?” pete mumbles. he feels stupid for asking, but mikey puts his thumb under pete's chin and gently lifts his face until he's staring into mikey's eyes and the feeling dissolves instantly.

“of course, love. don't ever hesitate to ask me anything.”

“you're not... disappointed that I don't have any experience?”

mikey smiles softly at him and says, “no, sweetheart, never. that just means i get to teach you. do you know how big of an honor this is, that you're offering yourself to me this way?”

pete shakes his head, unable to believe his luck. he's so happy mikey is willing to do this with him, for him.

“i'm already yours, this is just another way of showing it.”

“peter lewis kingston wentz III, will you allow me the honor of being your first?”

"hey, it's not like i'm some blushing virgin-"

mikey raises an eyebrow and he falls silent.

"well?"

pete nods quickly.

“ah-ah, verbally please. i need 100% consent.”

“please, mikey, i want you to be my first, i want you to be my last, and my everything in between.”

mikey grabs pete's face with both hands, pushing his hair behind his ears, and kisses him. he grips pete's hair tightly, and when he tugs, pete's mouth falls open with a gasp, allowing mikey entry. after a moment, mikey pulls back.

“you're perfect,” he says roughly. it might be pete's imagination, but his eyes look a little watery. “so fucking perfect."

mikey smiles at him and pete's heart swells with love. he just keeps thinking how lucky he is and how much he loves his fiance.

mikey pulls pete's arms together above his head and holds them there with one hand while the other pulls pete’s shirt up over his head. it catches on his lover’s hands and mikey deftly wraps the shirt around pete's wrists in a loose binding, so pete can easily shake it off if he wants to. all the while, he keeps his gaze trained on pete, whose pupils are blown wide with lust.

“you like that baby? like me taking control? you don't have to do anything except what i tell you to do, i promise," he says, gently kissing pete's forehead when he nods. "let me take care of you, baby. just relax and let me take control.”

pete feels floaty, like he's swimming and mikey is the ocean. the waves wash over him but he knows he won't drown. mikey won't let that happen. mikey will take care of him. so he just goes lax and lets the current guide him.

mikey notices the exact moment pete lets go and kisses him deeply, grounding him with physical contact. he makes short work of pete's belt, and soon enough, pete is naked and lying on a warm blanket while mikey strips.

pete takes his eyes over mikey's rapid show of skin and wants to touch but doesn't know where to start or even if he's even allowed. should he ask before touching? does he have to? oh that would be so hot, he thinks. his mind is racing with so many thoughts about what's happening and what's going to happen he feels like he might be slipping under the waves.

mikey takes one look at pete's face and practically reads his mind.

“i know this is pretty overwhelming for you so i'm gonna tell you exactly what to do, alright? it's your first time with me and i want it to be perfect. okay, honey?”

pete nods gratefully. if mikey is telling him what to do, he can't mess up, as long as he follows orders. man, i wish i had someone like this every day. it would make life so simple, so easy, if i only had to answer to one person.

mikey climbs onto the bed and straddles pete. He kisses pete and pete melts into the bed but then he feels a sharp pain on his chest and oh my nipples fucking hurt and woah mikey is pressing down and his dick is touching my dick shit fuck what do i do what do i do it's too much shit i don't want him to think i don't want this. fuck, fuck, think!

mikey notices and in a second, he flips pete over and somehow he ends up lying on top of mikey's chest with his head pillowed in mikey's neck where he can feel his pulse, steady and soothing. mikey starts stroking his back and he just calms down.

“it was too much honey, i know, i'm sorry. we can just cuddle for a little, yeah? just close your eyes. you're okay, just close your eyes and rest a little. i'm sorry for scaring you like that.”

“wasn’t scared,” pete mumbles into mikey's neck. he sort of was.

“i think you were, and that's perfectly okay. what's my favorite line?”

“it's ‘kay to not be okay.”

“exactly. don't you ever forget it. it's okay to be not be okay, love, and you were being so brave for me, trusting me to take care of you like that, to make decisions for you. but you know you're allowed to say no, right? there's absolutely no need to be embarrassed. if you're not comfortable with something, you let me know right away. we don't have to do anything you're not completely comfortable with, okay? i love you and nothing you do will make me go away. remember? can't get rid of me now,” he says with a smirk.

“love you, mikeyway.”

“love you too, peteypie.”

pete nuzzles his head into mikey's neck and starts pressing tentative little kisses to mikey's collarbone, like he's not sure if he's doing it right. but he wants to try.

“perfect, honey, you're so perfect for me,” mikey says. he stretches his neck out and starts running a hand through pete’s hair.

with a little more confidence, pete shyly kisses his way up mikey's neck, past his jaw, up to the tip of his ear. he moves towards mikey's mouth and in his eagerness, he ends up biting mikey's lower lips. he's about to apologize, 'sorry' on the tip of his tongue, when mikey moans.

"fuuuck, so good."

Pete swallows his concerns and kisses over the spot he's bitten.

mikey moans again, continuously running his fingers through pete’s hair to keep his timid lover calm. it helps; pete feels better.

“i love you so much, petey. never letting you go.”

mikey continues carding his fingers through pete’s hair and uses his other hand to squeeze the back of pete's neck and apply a gentle pressure. pete takes a deep breath and moves his head downward until he's breathing hot little puffs of air onto mikey's right nipple.

“fuck, pete, so good," mikey breathes, trying his best not to scare pete.

pete's tongue darts out and mikey sees a tiny flash of pink as he feels kitten licks, tickling his nipple. reflexively, his back arches off the bed and he raises his chest high. pete continues down mikey's chest down to his stomach, but before pete can do anything, a dam breaks in mikey and suddenly his hands are everywhere, all over pete, running down his back to grab at his ass and pull him closer. pete blinks and he's on his back with mikey straddling him again.

“mine,” he says as he kisses pete roughly.

“yours!” pete gasps. “all yours, mikey. all yours.”

“let me take care of you. just relax, i got you.”

mikey slides down pete's body until his mouth is level with pete's groin and he blows cool air on pete’s cock. he presses a kiss to the tip, then licks a long stripe from tip to base. before pete can register what's happening, a hot wet heat surrounds his cock and he loses all coherent thought.

in the back of his mind, he notices his hips are trying to jerk up into mikey's mouth, but mikey's got him pinned against the bed, unable to move. pete gets lost in mikey's ministrations, lost in the pure sensation of it all, and nearly misses the telltale click of a cap opening and suddenly there is a wet finger circling his hole, probing gently, barely entering him, and he comes like a geyser, falling over the precipice. it's okay though, because mikey is there at the bottom, waiting to catch him.

pete's floating again, and doesn't mind it at all. he knows mikey's there with him and that's all that matters. at some point, mikey darts into the bathroom and brings back a washcloth to wipe them down. later on, he comes back to himself, and though he can't remember moving, he's lying on his side, mikey spooning him from behind. his legs still feel like jelly, but he's able to roll over and face his fuckawesome fiancé who just gave him probably (no, definitely) the best orgasm he ever had.

“so... i guess i don't have to ask if you like anal play,” says mikey with a smirk.

pete leans forward to kiss mikey, and bites him on the lip in a little admonishment. "no, guess not."

“fuck,” mikey moans. “i've unleashed a monster, haven't i? you're gonna use that whenever you want anything you, aren't you?”

“you bet your ass i am."

pete cuddles closer into mikey and notices a distinct lack of grossstickywet.

“shit, mikey, i never- fuck! only i could manage to fuck up sleeping with mikeyway.”

“hey, hey. what's wrong?”

“i never.. you didn't..” he glances down and mikey's crotch.

“oh, you thought i didn't..? only you would think that i would be able to watch pete wentz come all over my stomach and not follow suit," he says. "i came as soon as i saw your face, thrown back in pleasure. you did not fuck up mikey way, you fucked mikey way.”

and pete smiles, because even though he lasted about three seconds of mikey playing with his ass, he knows that soon they could have actual sex, and it would be okay, because he not only managed, but succeeded, in fucking mikey fuckin' way.

Chapter Text

mikey doesn't know where to look first. every time he blinks, pete is somewhere else on the bed.

note to self, he thinks, forbid pete from ever drinking coffee again. or sugary beverages. or anything containing sugar.

he watches pete jump up and down like a little monkey and idly wonders if he should stop his little monkey before he falls off the bed and breaks his head.

maybe i'll just let him keep going for a little, let him wear himself out.

pete's hanging off the bed, upside down. blood's rushing to his head and before mikey gets the chance to say that the position isn't good for him, pete is doing a backward somersault (tumblesauce) and his head crashes into mikey's crotch. he looks down and giggles.

“hi.”

“hey pretty boy, you having fun?” he asks, looking down at him fondly.

“yup!” says pete. he presses a kiss to the zipper of mikey's torn black jeans. “even more, now,” he says with a sly smile.

pete reaches for mikey's belt and pulls it loose. he catches the zipper between his teeth and drags it down slowly, bangs falling over his eyes and tickling mikey's stomach.

"you're like a puppy with a new favorite chew toy," mikey says, amused.

“i dunno, puppies are pretty rough with their toys,” pete says, forcefully mouthing at mikey over his briefs.

“you slobber like one too,” replies mikey, looking pointedly at the wet material of his jockeys. he doesn't mind, though. (he secretly finds it endearing, not that he'd ever let pete know.)

pete pouts. “i thought i get to be the toy.”

“oh, you are. a real life, almost life-sized toy.”

pete looks indignant but the banter melts away when mikey tangles his fingers in pete's hair and tugs him back to the ever growing bulge in mikey's pants.

“gonna fuck this pretty mouth. but i think my toy needs a lesson in patience first.”

“noooo... please mikey please, I'll be good," pete says.

mikey loves it when he tries to bargain with him. it lets him know pete wants this as much as he does.

mikey slips his briefs down his legs and pete salivates.

“you beg so nicely. so pretty. does my little toy remember what to do next?”

pete nods frantically. “please mikey, please may I suck your cock?”

“go ahead, pet. get me nice and wet.”

pete goes to town until he hears the familiar click of the cap on the lube. he turns around to give mikey access and he feels two fingers enter him and move around before they press hard against his prostate.

“shit-" he throws his head back, eyes closed, and mikey does what he knows pete loves and manhandles him, flipping his diminutive frame underneath mikey's lankier one. what feels like years later, mikey's sliding into him. he thrusts back and forth with powerful strokes until pete is seconds away from coming.

pete looks at mikey for permission. “come, baby. come now."

 

pete comes back to himself, cuddled close to mikey, and feeling very loose-lipped.

“wonder when we're gonna stop fucking like rabbits,” he says, burying his face into mikey's neck.

“never, hopefully.”

“this is all so new to me... i mean, it's not like i've never had sex before, it's just that... this is a whole new experience with you and with finding all these new kinks and... i don't want the new car smell to ever fade.”

“it won't. trust me," mikey says, smiling at him. (and even if it does, he'll still be there. honestly, he kinda can't wait for them to be a cliché old married couple.)

pete looks up into mikey's eyes for a moment, then puts his head back in the crook of mikey's neck.

"love you, mikeyway."

Chapter Text

pete and mikey have a tradition. pete still can't sleep normally. at least not on his own. mikey helps with that. but like a true four year old, pete doesn't

"-wanna go to sleep!"

"shhh. it's bedtime for all little rockstars."

"but you're not going to sleep!"

"firstly, it's 10am by me. secondly, i said 'little' rockstars. when i shrink to your size, you too can order me around."

"really?"

"no. you love when i tell you what to do. and i'm telling it's time to go to sleep, pete."

"how you gonna make me?"

"simply by telling you. i believe i told you to be quiet, peter."

mikey hears pete groan. he chuckles.

"i just heard your dick harden, thirty fucking thousand miles away. you hot for me petey?"

pete moans into the phone.

"you waiting for permission to talk?"

"mmmmph."

"good boy."

"ohhhhh. fuck."

"that was quick, peter. were you having fun without me before i called?"

"no. maybe. you know one of these days it's gonna take more than you acting like a bossy asshole to get me to shoot."

"it's good to have faith, peter."

"fuck you."

"i do. now go to sleep."

pete smiles.

"yes, sir."

as per tradition, mikey stays on the line listening to make sure pete is getting the rest he needs. after a few minutes, pete's breathing becomes shallower and mikey hears a small voice.

"m'key?"

"yes peteypie?"

"luv yoo."

"love you more. go to sleep, little love. i'll be here. mwa."

Chapter Text

there are some days gerard hates everything he writes, everything he draws, everything he says. there are some days he's so paralyzed by the fear of the future that he can't get out of bed. there are some days when he gets so agitated that he snaps at anyone that comes near him and refuses to speak to anyone.

no one is really sure what to do on those days, and they're happening more and more often lately, since he's been sober.

mikey is, obviously, the first choice to comfort him, but he's just as uncertain as the rest of them. this is a sober problem anyway, and mikey's answer to everything nowadays is usually booze, so he isn't exactly of help to them.

their next line of defense is brian; after all, it was brian gerard called when he was overdosing and scared out of his mind and ready to end it all. brian is the one he asked to save his life. but brian's no mental health expert, and if gerard won't talk, their phone calls become a moot point.

(ray gets so concerned about gerard that his hair deflates a little, which is funny but mostly disturbing.)

they're at a loss the next time gerard crawls into his bunk after a show without a word to anyone because no one had seen it coming.

frank hesitantly asks if he can try.

"i don't know, man," ray says tiredly.

"are you sure that's a good idea?"

shrugging, frank says, "why not? you guys have tried everything. let me take a crack at it."

eventually, ray, bob, and brian (they called him especially for this) agree that frank will be given a chance, but just this once.

he braces himself and taps lightly on the wall of gerard's bunk. he's met with silence, so he pulls the curtain aside and peers in at gerard. he's wearing his skeleton pajamas, and they've gotten pretty loose on him since he lost weight. they're slipping over one of his shoulders, making him look like a kid, almost.

gerard blinks a little at the light and scowls at him. "i coulda been jerking off for all you knew. privacy, jesus," he says grumpily. "nothing i ain't seen before," frank tells him. "scoot over."

when gerard doesn't move, frank climbs in on top of him. he's sweaty and gross, but that doesn't phase frank. they're always sweaty and gross. (okay, frank actually hates being sweaty and dirty and gross. he just loves gerard more.)

"you really don't know how to take no for an answer, do you?" gripes gerard, but he wiggles around until there's room for frank.

(this is good, frank thinks. he's making progress. at the very least, he got gerard to talk.) "never have, never will," he replies, wrapping his arms around gerard and pulling him closer. he can feel the tension in gerard's body and frowns. "talk to me."

"no." he tries getting out of frank's grip, but frank is a stubborn motherfucker and hangs on. he's not giving up now, just when gerard's starting to open up.

"what do you want, anyway?"

"i wanna listen. something's up and i want to be here for you." he kisses gerard's bare shoulder and says, "spill."

gerard sighs but remains quiet. after a while, he takes a deep breath and says, "i don't know. i'm just- i keep thinking about all that's happened, with me, with the band, and everything that's going to happen, and... i'm just all in my head about everything, but it's okay. i'll be fine in a few days. don't worry." he looks away.

"you know me, next to you I'm the biggest worrier on the planet," frank tries, hoping to earn a laugh. getting nothing, he aims for serious.

"hey, listen. i'm maybe not the most qualified person to give you a pep talk, but... i know everything feels like shit now, but you remember last year? everything was shit then, and you pulled through. and before you interrupt me," he says quickly, knowing gerard is itching to argue, to say something to prove frank wrong. "i don't mean the booze, or the pills, or bert, or whatever the hell you were doing. i'm talking about you, wanting to die. you, wanting to kill yourself. that's the lowest i've ever seen you, and you fucking made it out alive. so believe me when i say you can make it through this."

gerard nods a little. "okay."

they're silent for a minute and frank hopes he's made a difference. he kisses gerard's shouder again and starts to slide out of the bunk, meaning to leave him alone with his thoughts.

"no, stay," gerard says abruptly. that's how frank knows he did good. gerard never wants to be around people when he gets like this. he always pushes them away in favor of his own company.

"you sure?" he asks.

"shut up and spoon me."

Chapter Text

things get better after that night in the bunks. gerard's periods of sadness become fewer and farther between, and even when his depression hits, the focus starts to shift toward mikey and how he's not around as much anymore. (he's spending so much time with pete lately. gerard doesn't necessarily like it, and he maybe takes it out on pete more than he means to, but. he feels he's allowed to. it's his brother.)

but frank is... frank is always around. but he isn't just 'always there', he's always there for gerard. and that... well, that makes all the difference. most of the time, gerard barely has time to notice mikey leaving the bus (hand in hand with pete, which he chooses to ignore) before he has a lapful of tiny italian punk rocker, bouncing around and asking what horror movie they're watching tonight or what comic gerard's reading or what prank can they play on a certain blonde drummer, with really unfortunate luck. (mostly, it's frank coming up with ideas and gerard agreeing, but he likes it anyway.)

and frank is always touching him. It drives him crazy. (in a good way.) frank is always taking gerard's hand while they're walking to and from the venue or gently detangling his hair or hugging him at the most random times. and the best part is, frank encourages touching back! gerard is hesitant at first, unsure of what to do, but frank makes it easy. eventually, it comes naturally as breathing.

frank's decided he wants to release gerard's artsy side, so more often than not, gerard spends hours doing his nails or experimenting with makeup or dyeing his hair in colorful patterns. (gerard knows frank likes having someone touching his hair, no matter how much he denies it, so he makes it a point to fuck with frank's hair – style or color - at least once a week.) gee has a new canvas and while it’s not blank, it is most definitely beautiful. he whiles away the hours tracing all the tattoos that adorn frank's arms, shoulders, stomach, and more. (sometimes, frank hands him an uncapped sharpie and lets him go nuts drawing his own designs, crammed in between the ink he already has. gerard always takes his time to make anything he draws exquisite, to match the canvas.) he spends nights marveling over frank's piercings.

and then there's the night he asks if he can draw frankie.

“like one of your french girls?”

gerard blushes and swallows hard.

“um- if you- if you.. yeah,” he stutters out.

and because frank is frank, he starts stripping.

“hey baby ray! don't come by the couches; gee’s getting me naked!” frank yells, grinning devilishly at gerard.

“ohmigod no, let me leave first!” ray stumbles through the living area, hand over his eyes, reaching blindly for the door of the bus. “i'll be on fall out boy's bus,” he squeaks. “their singer seems nice. and um... i think their guitarist could swap hair tips with me. so i'll, uh, see you guys tomorrow.”

“'kay, i think that's everybody,” says frank. (mikey hasn't been seen by anyone since after their show yesterday, when he disappeared with pete. he's replied to every text gerard has sent him though, so he's alive, at least.)

frank pauses and makes a face.“oh, wait. yo, bryar! you around?” he shouts. no response. “yup, that's everyone.”

gerard settles in with his sketch pad, getting ready to draw frank’s bare torso, when he feels a hand on his chin.

“gonna make a deal with you," frank says, quirking an eyebrow. "so here i am, all exposed. and here you are, all covered up. so. for every part of my body you draw, you have to show me that part of your body.”

gee blushes but takes off his shirt. he's never liked exposing his body, (he doesn't know if he ever will, it's just not something he's fond of) and can't quite look frank in the eye. he hears frank let out a low whistle.

“gorgeous." gerard glances up and takes in frank staring at him. "how come you never let anybody see that bod?”

he winks and flashes gerard a full frank iero grin. “okay, let's do this. i know you're dying to touch,” teases frank.

gee moves closer to trace frank's tattoos with one hand while the other sketches. he's mapped them with his fingers so many times he could probably draw each one from memory, but nothing compares to the real thing.

he moves up to frank's face next, playing with the shadows on his lip and nose piercing and how the light glints off them. by the time gerard's made his way down to frank's toes, he's more than half hard, and it's nearing 4am. gee is naked except for his underwear. he's saving that part for last. (he's looking forward to and dreading it at the same time, because while he knows he's going to hate having his body on display, he also knows frank will be... frank about it, and that'll make it worthwhile.)

“you have beautiful toes,” whispers gerard, staring at them.

“prettier than my hands?” frank mimes a guitar sequence onto gerard's arm, and it should tickle, but gerard just becomes more aroused, and as he returns to drawing frank's feet, frank starts playing air guitar on gerard's back and neck, sending chills down his spine. when frank touches the back of his ear, gerard drops the drawing pad and his head falls back.

“you have beautiful ears,” frank mumbles, smiling.

gerard draws in a shaky breath. “fuck.”

frank continues playing with the skin behind gee's ears, licking, rubbing, sucking, biting, tickling, and ever so lightly scratching, until he's a pliant puddle, lying half on the couch, half on the floor of the bus. frank leans down for a kiss and gerard catches his lip ring in his teeth and tugs. frank moans into gee's mouth and the two of them rut into each other, frank on top, setting a punishing pace, and gee below, hips moving minimally, accepting frank's lead until they both reach completion. frank chuckles softly, and cuddles into gerard.

gee smiles a sleepy smile beneath him, eyes closed to the pale morning light. normally, at this hour of the morning, he'd be dead tired after a restless 2-3 hours of not-quite-sleep, dreaming of sweet, sweet coffee to keep him awake and far away from the dark depths of his mind.

but now? now he's cozy, with frank on top of him, a nice, warm, comfortable weight. and now he has someone besides his coffee cup who understands him, who doesn't judge him, who shares his weird-ass love and probably loves him more than he loves himself. not that he can say any differently about his love for Frankie.

“maybe next time I'll get you out of your underwear instead of getting stuck on toes and ears like a couple of fucking weirdos,” whispers frank into gee's neck, smiling. gee pulls frank's arms tighter around his check and snuggles in close. he kisses frank's hand that's resting on his chest.

“weirdos who found each other.”

Chapter Text

“your music helped me so much, helped me get through some really bad times when i just thought no one else could possibly understand, but you guys were there for me.”

 

a small girl with a bright smile beams at gerard, blushing when he meets her eyes with a furious stare. he pulls her into a tight bear hug, dwarfing her small body, then pulls back, and makes eye contact again, staring intensely.

 

“we will always be there for you. we will always be there for anyone who wants us to be. long after we lose the audience big enough to book us a gig like this, we will still be there for you, as long as you're willing to listen.”

 

gerard crushes her into a hug again.

 

“i'll see you in the show, okay?”

 

tears freely flowing, she moves on to let the next person in line meet the band.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

later that night, gerard steps on stage and waits for the screaming to die down.

 

“tonight, i met a girl, who felt things about herself, that no one should ever feel. but i’m willing to bet... that most of you have felt that way at some point in your lives. by raise of hands, or lighters, or whatever the fuck else, how many of you have ever wanted to be someone else?”

 

a few tentative hands rise among the audience.

 

“c’mon now i know that’s not true. raise your hand if you ever wanted to be someone else! i have!”

 

more hands go up as gee raises his own, and mikey joins in.

 

“now how many of you ever wanted to be someone else because you thought no one liked you?”

 

more hands go up.

 

“how many of you ever wanted to be someone else because you didn’t like yourself?”

 

even more hands rise, some friends even holding hands in the air.

 

“how many of you,” screamed gerard, “didn’t like yourselves because you thought no one else did?!”

 

almost every hand in the house was raised.

 

“i don’t think there is a single person here who hasn't ever thought bad things about themselves because they thought that's what other people were thinking. every. single. one of you. has had at least one passing thought when you believed that you weren’t pretty enough, smart enough, rich enough, straight enough, tall enough (frank jumped into the air raising his hand) or worthy enough of someone else's love because you thought that’s what everyone else believed. well, i’m here to tell you- you are worthy of my love, and you are worthy of your own love for yourself!"

 

he pauses.

 

"now i want everyone here to turn to the person next to you, friend or stranger, and tell that person that you love them; with all of your heart, you tell them that they deserve your love and they deserve to love themselves. go on now!”

 

gerard watches as they start.

 

“now give them a hug! because i’m willing to bet that even though you just met this person, you love them! and i’m gonna tell you why. you love them because you know they love you. you love them because humans are built to love. we love cats, dogs, pets whose shit we clean up! we love strangers on the train who smile at us, and artists who get up on stage to perform! we are capable of so much love, and for some reason, we forget to love ourselves! you just told the person next to you that you loved them- did you mean it?”

 

thousands of voices scream “yes”.

 

“the person next to you just told you that they loved you. did you believe them?”

 

less voices answer.

 

“and that is the root of the problem. you believed it with every ounce of your being when you said ‘i love you’ to a random stranger, but for some reason, you didn’t believe them when they said it back. so now i want you to turn to the person next to you and say ‘i love myself’.”

 

“i love myself.”

 

“again!”

 

“i love myself!”

 

“again!!”

 

“i love myself!!!”

 

someone far away in the crowd screams “i love you gee!!”

 

“i love you too. and i mean it with all my heart. because we are not strangers. you know me; you've seen into some of the deepest depths of my soul when you’ve heard me sing. and when that message resonates within you and you come to see us perform live, i know you too. because the same feeling that drove me to write this song is the feeling that drove you to listen to it and then to come hear us perform it live. and that is why you are not strangers. as long as i know myself, i know each and every one of you. i am proud of myself and who i am today and i am proud of you too! so stop trying to be someone else because you are a beautiful person! and there are many people in this world who love you for who you are. i'm one of them.

 

now before i finish, i'm going to share a line that you should all be familiar with. sing along if you like.

 

so many bright lights, they cast a shadow, but can i speak? is it hard understanding i'm incomplete? a life that's so demanding, i get so weak. a love that so demanding, i can't speak… these bright lights have always blinded me… i say: i see you lying next to me, with words i thought i'd never speak, awake and unafraid, asleep or dead.

 

how many of you, in that moment when you wished to be someone else, anyone else, wished to be the cool girl in school, the rock star you saw on the cover of kerrang, the celebrity you saw pictures of in the latest tabloid? come on, we've all been there. when i was growing up, i wanted to be freddie mercury.

 

the problem with celebrities though, with anyone thrust into the spotlight really, are the bright lights. see the bright lights overwhelm the image of the person standing in the spotlight, and cast a shadow against the curtain from whence the star emerged. what the world sees is simply a shadow of what that person is, a distortion created by the bright lights, composed of their best and worst qualities, only magnified to the point where you cannot catch a glimpse of the person behind the light. the mass public views only these shadows and emulates the qualities they see in the shadow, believing that they too can become these beloved, popular public figures if they only possessed the correct traits. but the world completely misses the traits that made this person famous. the traits are subsumed by the shadow and only come out when you meet the person in real life and see their true colors, not the distorted shadow that the media presents to the public. it is then that stories of diva behavior are shot down by fans who say that bowie answered his fan mail himself and wrote full length letters back, or-”

 

a fan interrupts and screams, “mikey way bought me a sprite after i threw up on your shoes, gee, and instead of making me feel bad about it, frank turned around and said that the shoes were ugly anyway.”

 

frank walks over to hug gee.

 

“ugly ass shoes.”

 

“thank you for that example,” responds gee with a bright smile. “it's time to stop treating celebrities like gods, because they are still human. we need to stop accepting the images the media distorts and take time to get to know these celebrities before we idolize them. bowie is a legend but he's also just a regular dude and through all that fame he hasn't lost his humanity. that's why i love bowie! and one of the first promises i made myself when we went on tour was to retain the essence of who i was before all this started. somewhere along the way i lost that but i'm back on track today.

 

i love myself because i am living proof to every single one of you that you can hit rock bottom and still come back up. i have been addicted to drugs and alcohol, i have been suicidal and severely depressed, but i fought to get better and in the process, i even found love.”

 

gee pauses to smile as frank wraps his arm around his waist.

 

“but that healing process started when i realized how many people loved me. how many people were devastated when i wanted to kill myself. and the process only ended when i learned to love myself. i will be the first to say that i am quite simply the quintessential spokesperson for the saying ‘it gets better.’ so i beg you, don’t let it get that far. you have to work to actively recognize all the people in your life that love you. those are the qualities i want you to emulate when you say you want to be like me. i want you to know the real me: the nerd who loves himself, comic books, and frank iero. in that order. kidding, babe, mostly, love you.”

 

he blows a kiss to frank.

 

mikey moves out of the shadows and goes to hug gee, tears streaming down his face. 

 

"so proud of you. so proud to be your little brother. love you so much."

 

gee kisses mikey on the head.

 

"love you, mikey. love you more than you will ever know."

 

gee takes mikey under his arm to finish his speech.

 

“so please, take the time to get to know your celebrities before you idolize them, and ask yourself: do they deserve my reverence? and if they do, love them, love them with all your heart, like i love every one of you. but if all you look up to is their shadows, you might want to reevaluate and set new standards and new goals for yourself. try to be the person behind the fame, and try to emulate the traits that endear them to you, not the flash and money that you think they are. try to be that person who spoke up because she is proud of who she is today. try to be a person that you yourself can be proud of… and you will love yourself.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

the next week, new tee shirts were being sold by every venue with a modified message that read: i'm not okay (but i will be).

 

Chapter Text

"so they just legalized gay marriage in vermont. first state," says ray, with a grin.

 

"that means... i need to call pete!"

 

mikey whips out his sidekick.

 

"pete- vermont- legal- yes! double? no but- yes of course i love you- fine- okay- fine- i love you."

 

mikey hangs up the phone but before anyone can ask him to explain, gerard's phone rings.

 

"pete? yeah i heard. you mean it? yes, i'd love to! monday? sounds good!"

 

gerard hangs up. he walks over to frank and kisses his finger right on top of the tattooed ring.

 

"vermont," he says, with a huge smile. "pete and i are going to interview wedding planners on monday."

 

mikey and frank look at each other.

 

"pete.. and you?"

 

"it's gonna be a double wedding!"

 

ray can't handle it anymore and falls to the ground laughing. frank and mikey look at him, lost for words.

 

"can you imagine all of pete and gerard's ideas in one wedding?!"


 

"okay so my aesthetic is black," says pete.

 

the wedding planner smiles, unsurprised. pete looked like if you cut him, he would bleed black eyeliner.

 

"but my fiancé likes unicorns."

 

"and i've been experimenting with color," says gee, pointing to his fire truck red hair, "and my fiancé wants a traditional italian catholic wedding."

 

"so let me get this straight: you want a double wedding with four grooms, and the theme will be emo unicorns who are also colorful. and there must be a priest willing to conduct this ceremony. correct?"

 

they nod.

 

"get out."


 

"so you want one side of the wedding to be black skulls and the other to be rainbow glitter?"

 

pete walks out.


 

"so you want an emo but also colorful wedding that should also be romantic?"

 

"yes."

 

"please leave. and please don't tell any of your friends about me."


 

"you want a wedding with four grooms? i don't even know if i can find you a priest for two grooms."


 

"okay i've got a good feeling about this one."

 

this doesn't make gerard feel better. pete's had a good feeling about the last 26 wedding planners they visited. lucky number 27?

 

they walk into a tiny office and there is a little, maybe five foot tall girl with wild, curly hair beaming at them. she gets up when she seems them and gives them each a hug. they sit down on the small couch and she sits across from them.

 

"congratulations on both of your engagements. a double wedding, how exciting! try to give me an idea of what you want. i'm sure artists like yourselves have loads of ideas," she says smiling.

 

"well i want to keep the black aesthetic. mikey wants something romantic, gerard wants colorful rebellion, and frank wants a traditional catholic wedding."

 

she doesn't run, doesn't throw them out. so that's two points in her favor right there. she just sits there thinking for a few minutes.

 

"how about a fairy tale wedding? but not one fairy tale, all of them! the ceremony itself can be romantic and beautiful while each table can have its own theme. we can have some dark tables like alice in wonderland and little red riding hood. oh we can get blood red table cloths and maybe a dark purple for the chesire cat. we can have some romantic tables with scenes from cinderella and sleeping beauty as centerpieces. we can have colorful tables with the little mermaid characters. oh, we can have a gorgeous table with the rose from beauty and the beast! and we can even have a table with hercules riding pegasus in the center!"

 

"my fiancé loves unicorns!"

 

"we can have a harry potter table! or four!"

 

gerard looks her dead in the eye.

 

"name your price."

Chapter Text

 

“the day of the wedding has finally arrived and emos from all across the lands are pouring into the grounds of the castle to greet the lords way and ladies wentz and iero.”

 

“what the fuck are you doing pete?” asks mikey, with a snort. “are you narrating our wedding?”

 

“why the fuck am i a lady? i should at least be a duke!”

 

“lord way is very happy with his title, lady wentz,” says gerard, bowing to kiss pete’s hand. “however, i would nonetheless be very happy to switch, if it pleases my lady,” he says, nodding to frank with a deep bow.

 

“fucking--”

 

“two by two, they arrive in couples,” continues pete, cutting off frank. “ sir gabe the tall and lady william the fine,” greets pete, with a curtsy. “ duke forehead, the obnoxious; sir ray, the bouncy. and who is this fine lady?”

 

“christa, lord wentz,” for she had just arrived and had missed the previous interaction.

 

“lady wentz,” corrects mikey.

 

“lady wentz,” repeats christa. “it will be nice to have another lady around here,” she says, gazing around the room.

 

“ah but you must meet my ladies in waiting-”

 

“cut the crap pete. what’s with that voice?”

 

pete clears his throat. “my ladies in waiting,” he continues with a flourish of his arm. “lady will and dame stumph.”

 

patrick mutters a curse under his breath. mikey shoots a warning glance at patrick who grumbles but smiles nevertheless at pete and christa, curtsying. joe glares at mikey a little. christa just looks confused.

 

“ah sir andrew, the smol, might i introduce you to lord travis, the tol?”

 

pete wanders off and the little party slowly dissipates to socialize with the other guests. there are still hours to go until the actual ceremony, but they all got emails from the wedding planner not-so-subtly ordering them to show up early on pain of death if they upset her clients.

 

patrick goes to finalize with the dj and notices gabe heading to the bar to chat up some poor unsuspecting emos (then again, his reputation does precede him, so maybe they’re not as unsuspecting as they seem).

 

after a little while, gabe notices that he’s lost his bill and heads off in search of his princess. he wanders around the castle, walking in on many an undressed emo (and two of the grooms- he really didn't need to know about frank’s ass tattoo) until he comes across a small wooden door, slightly ajar.

 

gabe pokes his head into the doorway and almost immediately regrets it. pete is sitting on the floor waving a hairbrush around wildly and babbling, while william, his long legs folded up beneath him, just watches him and nods occasionally.

"what's up, pete?" gabe asks, as a way of drawing his attention. bill looks up at him first and smiles in acknowledgement. his eyes twinkle like they always do when he smiles, but gabe doesn't get the chance to admire them because pete stands and launches himself up at gabe, fully expecting to be caught. gabe does indeed catch him and holds him for a second.

 

"i was trying to get my eyeliner right but then i remembered that will here-" (gabe has never liked people calling him that. it's always 'bill' or 'william' - or any of the variety of nicknames he's bestowed, of course. but 'will' just seems... wrong) "needs a crash course on how to use a fucking brush." gabe dumps him unceremoniously on the ground and rolls his eyes.

 

"i do," affirms bill from next to pete, not at all sarcastically. "i, as a twenty-four-year-old human being, have never encountered a hairbrush. i'm hopeless."

 

"nah," gabe replies, extending his hand to bill. "not to me."


 

“the time for pictures has finally arrived and all emos are requested to line up in mirrored height order with ladies wentz and iero in the middle.”

 

“is he going to be doing this all day?” asks frank. “wait then we won’t be near our fiancés, that makes no sense.”

 

“i don’t care! i want height order,” replies pete. “i am creating art!”

 

man the party planner is little, thinks mikey. "hey pete! petey! and frank! c'mere!" mikey quickly arranges pete and frank for a quick photo while the rest of the wedding party attempts to get themselves lined up in mirrored height order. mikey puts the the little party planner in between them. "say cheese! now you guys can have one wedding photo where you look normal sized! no offense, curly."

 

"none taken, you guys are adorable" she says, kissing frank, and then pete, on the cheek. pete grabs the camera and snaps a shot of curly under mikey's armpit.

 

“now give the camera back to our photographer. great, thank you, pete.”

 

she goes over to arrange the mess of emos and in seconds they are in the right places for the picture.

 

“see this is why bill couldn’t be our wedding planner, pete. for some reason, people just listen to tiny little fierce people more.”

 

“it’s ’cause we can reach your balls quicker,” shouts hayley from the direct middle of the line, causing all the men to reflexively protect their crotches. except for pete and frank. they just chuckle in agreement.

 

“it's a god given talent.”


 

gabe’s got someone pinned against the wall, as per usual. no one can see who it is, though, because gabe’s body is sort of all over the other person.

 

“gabe, who even are you making out with?” pete asks from mikey’s lap. gabe doesn’t even turn away from whoever it is, just flips him off and continues.

 

patrick, next to pete, rolls his eyes and mumbles, “i swear to god, everyone here has at least made out with gabe. how does that even happen?”

 

mikey just shrugs. “he gets around, i guess. probably ’cause he’s good at it.”

 

“mikey!” yelps pete, looking at him in shock. “how would you know?”

 

“what? you never saw the pictures of me and him from back in the day?” he asks nonchalantly.

 

pete thinks about it for a minute. “no, but you accepted your below the waist thing way before i did, so i’m cool with it. and dude,” he holds his hand up for a high five, “gabe.”

 

mikey high fives him and then laces their fingers together. they stare at each other for a minute, and patrick rolls his eyes and goes back to thinking about all the different people he’s seen gabe with. he gets up to about seventeen before gabe saunters over and drops onto patrick’s lap.

 

“you’re thinking about me, darling,” he drawls. “i can tell.”

 

patrick shrugs, shifting around to get comfortable with six feet of gabe in his lap. “i mean, kinda.”

 

gabe leers at him. “whatcha thinking about?”

 

“trying to remember all the people i’ve seen you making out with,” he answers honestly.

 

“hm. seventeen?”

 

patrick smiles. “yeah, seventeen was what i thought too.”

 

“but that’s just making out,” gabe continues. “i know i’ve slept with more than that, though. probably most of the people in this room.”

 

he surveys the room, mumbling, “him, him, her, him, her, her, ooh, both of them. let’s see, mikey, him, him, her, him, her, her, her, her, him, him, the dj... mmmmmm, who else?” he looks at patrick inquisitively. “oh, are we just counting like, full-on penetrative sex, or do blowjobs and shit count too? ’cause in that case, her, him, him, frank- no, it was some other guy that was too short for frottage. her, her, him-”

 

laughing, patrick says,  “i get it, you’ve slept with a lot of people, gabe.”

 

“you could be one of ’em, y’know,” gabe says, looking at him with what patrick knows are his seductive eyes.

 

“gabriel, i love you, and i’m sure you’re great in bed, and even if ash went for you back in the day,” he says, gesturing towards the dj, who blows them both a kiss, “that isn’t gonna change the fact that she and i are both ace as hell.”

 

gabe pouts. “so i’ll never get to see you naked?”

 

“nope.” he kisses gabe’s cheek anyway.


 

patrick is wandering around the reception semi-aimlessly, checking in on how everyone's doing, when he runs into gabe.

 

for once, he's not trying to seduce anyone, and it's frankly a little shocking.

 

"whoa, gabe, what's going on? this is the first time i’ve seen you without your tongue down someone's throat or trying to get in their pants," patrick says, grinning. (gabe gives him shit for being too serious and he gives gabe shit for never keeping it in his pants.)

 

"i've settled down," gabe shrugs. "chill out."

 

patrick's impressed, but also confused. "who managed to tame you? you were trying to seduce me half an hour ago."

 

before gabe can answer, william walks over, flashing a smile at patrick. he bends down (and he’s got a long way to go, he’s so fucking tall) and pecks gabe's cheek. "what's up?"

 

patrick watches them as a grin spreads across gabe’s face. he looks at william and says, "nothing much, mi querido. you?"

 

william settles on his lap and wraps his arms around him. "same."

 

patrick is surprised. (like, gabe has always disregarded personal space, and he and william clearly have no boundaries, but this isn’t their usual thing.)

 

evidently his shock is obvious enough that gabe tears his attention from william and picks up their conversation again. “oh, honey,” he says, grinning. “if i was actually trying to seduce you, you'd still be trying to catch your breath.”

 

patrick is too stunned to say anything, but he laughs. it’s still gabe. the two of them continue to talk for a while, and gabe doesn't even try to kiss william. instead, he just tucks an errant piece of hair behind william's ear like it's the most natural thing in the world.

 

it's odd; patrick is used to gabe and he's used to william but he thinks williamandgabe is going to take some getting used to. it's nice, though. they fit.


 

donna and donald way walk down the aisle, with their two boys between them. “con te partiro (time to say goodbye)” is playing and donna is sobbing. they stop at the end of the carpet of white flower petals and give each of their sons a kiss before moving to sit down. mikey and gerard hug and kiss and turn to face their audience, standing shoulder to shoulder under a canopy of hanging white flowers.

 

here comes the bride starts playing (“well you did want a traditional wedding, frankie.”) and pete and frank walk the aisle, each flanked by their own parents. they stop halfway down the aisle, and the way brothers come to meet them. gerard is openly bawling and smiling like a maniac, while mikey is making that face he makes when he doesn't want to cry (it's very convincing to anyone who doesn't know him like the back of their hand. usually).

 

pete dives headfirst into mikey and mikey shocks everyone by hiding his face in pete's shoulder. they see pete rubbing mikey's back. only gerard hears him whisper, “my brave man. my strong man.” mikey tilts his face up just enough to whisper into pete’s ear.

 

“i love you so much it hurts. i can't bear it.”

 

“‘course you can. if you can carry me and my baggage, i think you'll find your own to be just a drop in the bucket.”

 

gerard meets frank in an embrace, standing next to his brother and soon-to-be-brother-in-law. god, that name is longer than he-who-must-not-be-named, he thinks. no, actually… 1,2,3,4,5,6… 1,2,3,4,5,6. they're the same! logic dictates that pete and voldemort are one and the same. he must share this with mikey! … but…  maybe at another time...

 

gerard stares into frank's eyes. he is speechless. frank breaks the silence.

 

“love you, motherfucker.”

 

gerard's face breaks out into a huge grin and he kisses frank.

 

“save it for the vows, assholes!”

 

gerard flips off gabe with a smile, and the foursome makes their way down the aisle to the canopy of flowers.

 

“mawwiage. mawwiage is what bwings us togethew today.” the entire crowd laughs.

 

“mawwiage,” continues patrick, “that bwessed awwangement, that dweam within a dweam. and wove, twue wove, wiww fowwow you fowevah and evah… so tweasuwe youw wove...”

 

patrick pauses until the laughs settle down. the entire wedding party is crying from laughter. (this is why they love patrick.)

 

“and now, do you, michael james way, take peter lewis kingston wentz the third to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and protect, to drive you batshit crazy, in sickness and health, until death do you part?”

 

“i do.”

 

“do you, peter lewis kingston wentz the third, take michael james way to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and protect, to force you to eat your vegetables, in sickness and health, until death do you part?”

 

“i do.”

 

patrick takes a step back and ray steps forward to speak to gerard and mikey.

 

“do you, gerard arthur way, take frank anthony iero junior to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and protect, in sickness more often than health,” he smirks at frank before continuing. “until death do you part?”

 

frank makes a face as gerard starts to answer.

 

patrick interrupts, saying, “do you promise to pronounce his name correctly, even when no one else does?”

 

“i do.”

 

“do you, frank anthony eye-ear-oh, take gerard arthur way to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and protect in the weirdest but sweetest way possible, in sickness and health, until death do you part?

 

“i-”

 

“and for god's sake, do you promise to actually let him take care of you when you need it?”

 

frank can't decide if he should grit his teeth or smile. he does both. he's sure it looks creepy.

 

“i do.”

 

the crowd claps lightly.

 

“then it is time for the vows.” he and ray step further back so all eyes are on the grooms.

 

"mikey," pete begins. his hands are shaking and his eyes are wet but he continues. "when i met you, i was- god. i was so fucked up, only a few months past nearly killing myself, i-"


there's soft gasps from all the people that didn't know about the best buy incident and pete waits for them to settle down, tightening his grip on mikey's hands.


"i didn't know who i was anymore, i- i felt empty. lost. and i told myself i'd spend that summer finding myself again. but i found you instead. i was so... broken, but you took your time in finding all my pieces and putting them back together, and giving me some of yours when i was still incomplete. what i'm trying to say is that you are-" his voice breaks and he takes a few deep breaths to steady himself.


"god, i- i'm a fucking mess," he laughs, letting go of mikey's hand to wipe at his eyes. "you are my whole world, mikey, and i'm more than ready to spend my life with you."


"well, shit. i don't know how i'm supposed to follow that." pete smiles at him and he takes a deep breath and says, "but here goes, i guess. you're just- you're perfect. not, like, perfect perfect, but- ah, fuck.”

 

he sniffles a little and says, “you're perfect because you're not, y'know? you're short and you never shut up and you hide your feelings in dumb metaphors and i fucking love you for it. everything you hate about yourself is another item on the long list of reasons i love you, and even though sometimes you forget, i promise i will be here to remind you for as long as i'm alive."

 

mikey pulls out a simple gold wedding band without any markings. he slips it on to pete's finger. “it's simple, beautiful, and never ending, just like our love.”

 

pete pulls out a dark band, almost black, and slips it on mikey's finger. “here's a piece of my emo heart,” he manages to say with a straight face.

 

mikey grins and kisses pete passionately, shuffling over to the side of the canopy so gerard and frank can come into the center.

 

“frank, you have been by my side from the beginning and through it all: the drinking, the addiction, and the depression, culminating in…” he breathes deeply for a moment. “in my suicide attempt. i know no one likes to talk about it, but i want to talk about it because you were the one who sat with me every night; when everyone was battling their own demons, you were by my side, constantly coming up with new idiotic ways to keep me entertained. we’ve adopted so many new, healthier hobbies, all things i would have missed out on if you weren't around. i mean, like, i could live without the vegetarian thing, but we agreed, four nights a week dinner’s gotta be vegetable based. i could say that i wouldn't be where i am today without you, but the truth is, i wouldn't be alive today without you. and if the world had a few more of you, it would be a much better place.”

 

there’s a chorus of ‘how sweet’ and ‘awww’, but gerard shushes everyone and says, “i’m not finished.”

 

the audience quiets as he turns back to frank. “i don't know if this is the first life we have met each other in, but i know it won't be the last. i am yours; in every world, every timeline, every universe, forevermore. and if i come back as a cat, which is a very real possibility, i will be your cat. because love is love. and i love you.”

 

“well i thought it started a bit cliche,” whispers mikey to pete, who nods. “didn't stay that way for long,” mikey continues, laughing.

 

pete smiles and shushes him.

 

“gerard, i don't even know where to start. you're my everything: my artist, my muse, my best friend, and practically my pet cat. i know that sounds a bit ridiculous,” he said, turning to face their guests. “but not if you think about it.”

 

he turns back to gerard.

 

“i don't know what possessed you to pick a tiny little italian with a temper taller than himself, but… i want you to know that i will never hurt you. i've been sick a few times and i know i will be again, but knowing you will be there for me means i know i can make it through. we'll be making art together until the day one of us dies. and if it's you first– which it probably will be, everyone knows vegans live longer- i know you'll be back to visit me every birthday. and i will always be there for you. in every life. when i took that vow, it was not just until death do us part. that's just whatever shit ray printed off the internet when he got ordained. our vows are forever. you're mine now, sucker.” he smiles and pauses. “you're mine.”

 

frank pulls a ring out of his pocket. it is a beautiful, simple white gold ring. he slides it up gerard's finger to rest against his rough diamond engagement ring. the contrast of the black carbon against the shining gold ring is stark.

 

“see, you may think you are a diamond in the rough, and that's fine, because you got to pick your engagement ring. but i got to pick the wedding band, and i picked this pure white gold ring, because to me, you shine as bright, and look at perfect, as this ring in the sun. i still remember, a while back, we had a concert, and you had written on your neck, ‘very much alive’. you are so strong. such a strong person. you didn't prove your love to me by saying you would die for me, you proved you loved me when you decided to live for me. when i saw those words on your neck, i saw a man who could find hope in anything, even in the words of a madman. when you look at the world, you see beauty, you see hope, and i want to be part of that world. I want to be a part of your world.”

 

frank pulls a paper stencil out of his pocket. it has a simple black line with white words that read, “love gimme love gimme love”, followed by gerard's signature “g”.

 

a small, unassuming tattoo artist steps forward and wipes down frank's finger with alcohol. frank grits his teeth, smiles at gerard, and gives him permission to look away.

 

gerard smiles back before throwing up all over mikey's shoes.

 

“i'm okay.”

 

“i'm not!”

 

ray grabs a pitcher of water and throws it onto mikey's dress shoes. then, he hands him a pair of high top black converse.

 

“they didn't look right on you anyway.”

 

gabe is crying from laughter at this point and within minutes, frank's tattoo is done.

 

he turns to gerard, who has thankfully washed his mouth out in the interim, and kisses him.

 

“mine.”

 

“yours.”

 

“yours.”

 

“mine.”

 

gerard looks at frank's new tattoo. it's beautiful. he absolutely doesn't still look green at all. he also doesn't care. frank is his. that's all that matters. they kiss again.

 

ray and patrick stand side by side and speak together.

 

“by the power vested in me by the state of vermont, i now pronounce you husband and husband. you may now kiss the groom.”

 

pleasant music starts playing while the guests make their way to the reception and each pair locked lips like no one else is watching.


 

"who's ready for some entertainmeeent ?" booms patrick from onstage. "everybody put your hands together for two of our newlyweds, the two, the only, wayyyy brotherss!"

 

patrick loaded the link https://youtu.be/reZ1uiQkUD8 and a slinky, synthy beat starts playing, prompting gee to stalk seductively to the front of the stage.


imagine me and you,


he looks at frank.


i do, ” he sings, grabbing the mic.


i think about you day and night…


he smirks.


it's only right


to dream about the man you love”


he walks down to frank and pulls him against his body.


and hold him tight


so happy togethhhhher


he dips frank sensually, as he stretches the last note.


“if i should call you up


invest a dime”


he leans over and bites frank behind the ear.


and you say you belong to me”


he kisses frank's wedding band.


and ease my mind


imagine how the world could be..”

 

mikey walks out of the shadows, his glittery silver base tight in his hands, and he strums another strong, sexy, synthy beat.


so very fine


so happy togethhhher”


mikey stalks his way down to pete’s chair, gets right in his husband’s face and screams.


i can't see me loving nobody but you for all my liiiiife!!!


when you're with me baby the skies are blue for all my liiiife!!!”

 

gee joins in, making his way over to frank.


youuu and me!!!”


he pokes himself in the chest  


(i can't see me loving nobody by you)


meeee and you!!!”


mikey pokes pete in the chest.


“(i can't see me loving nobody but you)


youuu and me!!!

 

meeee and youuuu oooh!”

 

mikey fades into the background and gerard comes back into center stage, leading frank by the hand.

 

“me and you

 

and you and me”

 

he pulls frank flush against his body, rolling his hips down onto frank's, undulating as frank's eyes roll back in his head and his lips fall open into a silent o.

 

“no matter how they toss the dice”

 

gerard's back is facing the audience but his arm jerks forward at the word toss, playing on the double entendre. no one can see exactly what is happening but frank's gasp is telling. the wedding guests quickly figure out exactly where gerard grabbed frank, completely forgetting they are in public. (yeah forgetting. let's go with that. gerard definitely didn't quietly tell frank to look at their audience, and observe how everyone has their eyes on him. no siree.)

 

“it's meant to be

 

the only one for me is you”

 

he kisses frank, possessively claiming his mouth, as a shocked noise from the audience causes gerard to look up, meeting his mother's eyes for an unbearingly long millisecond.

 

“and you for me

 

so happy togethhhher”

 

"you're mine," he whispers, pulling away with a dark blush, embarrassed but still smiling, feeding off the goodbad humiliation, his eyes still locked on his husband’s. husband. fuck, that felt good to think.

 

frank pulls gee into the shadows and the last thing the wedding party sees is gerard falling to his knees.

 

mikey quickly brings the attention back to himself thinking, dammit gee! can't keep it your pants even in front of two hundred people. then again, he did masturbate on stage in front of thousands of people... fuck, my mom saw that. ugh, he shudders . still... the show must go on.

 

“i can't see me lovin nobody but you for all my liiiiife

 

when you're with me baby the skies are blue for all my liiiife”

 

mikey looks around to see quite a few people still staring at backstage, trying to catch a glimpse of gerard and frank.

 

“youuu and me!!!

 

meeee and you!!!

 

youuu and me!!!

 

meeee and you!!!

 

youuu and me!!!

 

meeee and you!!!

 

youuu and me!!!

 

meeee and youuu ohhhh!”

 

mikey climbs into pete's lap on the last note, easily covering his miniature husband as he kisses the shit out of him. oh well, if you can't beat em, join em.


 

“i don’t understand why we have to split up,” complains bill. he doesn’t want to leave gabe, but apparently they’re obligated to.

 

“that’s the point of the dance,” says gabe, rolling his eyes. “we’re both tol. we must find someone smol. and look at that tiny person.”

 

gabe spots someone across the room, whistles, and stalks over to a short dude in a gold jacket, talking to a tiny girl with bright orange hair. he doesn’t have to turn around for bill to recognize brendon. who else would wear a gold jacket to a fucking wedding?

 

“well hello there,” gabe says in what bill knows is his ‘seduction voice’. (it never worked on him, but he did get used to gabe using it on numerous people before they got together.)

 

the small girl comes over to him and says, “i’m hayley. you’re tall, i’m not. wanna dance?” he has a better chance to look at her now that they are not on opposite sides of the height ordered picture. he's not sure he likes her this close to him and his family jewels.

 

they dance together somewhat awkwardly, because william doesn’t know her all that well (and mostly because he’s busy watching gabe over the top of her head).

 

gabe holds brendon close by the small of his back as they dance, and a certain line from the rocky horror picture show pops into bill’s head. and it's the pelvic thrust that really drives you insayayayayane…

 

there is really no word to describe it other than... violent. they're thrusting, grinding... frotting. it's like watching gabe... and a mini-gabe, essentially, all but having sex on the dance floor. needless to say, he is less than pleased.

 

he spends the whole time watching gabe (and totally not being jealous), accidentally ignoring hayley.

 

hayley taps his shoulder. “hey, beanpole. eyes are down here.”

 

william glances at her briefly but looks right back at gabe, who’s apparently got his heart set on recreating a scene from dirty dancing.

 

brendon’s into it, if the shit-eating grin on his face is anything to go by. william is good with brendon, definitely, but he's still irrationally jealous and kinda hates him right now.

 

“asshole!” hayley shouts, stomping on his foot.

 

“ow, jesus!” he doubles over in pain, and okay, maybe he had it coming.

 

“when you're dancing with someone, it's polite to at least make eye contact,” she tells him, tugging on his hair a little to force him to meet her eyes.

 

“god, i'm so sorry. i'm not usually like this, it’s just… oh wow, look at him,” william says, and hayley does. “he's gorgeous.”

 

hayley looks back at bill, exasperated, and that's when she notices that half the eyes in the room are on gabe. actually, most of the eyes in the room. she can tell they are watching him because they are all staring in her general direction without actually making eye contact. she scans the crowd through every lovestruck look and does a double take when someone meets her eyes. patrick.

 

“for fuck’s sake! can we just pause for a moment? who here is not sexually attracted to gabe?”

 

he raises his hand and hayley raises hers. everyone else is still watching gabe and brendon. no one has paused.

 

“seriously? it’s just us? ash, i thought you were ace!”

 

“believe me, i am but... gabe,” she says in a tone that indicates that’s all the explanation needed.

 

most of the parents are milling around the buffet, away from their children’s chaos, but hayley turns to two of them incredulously. “mr. and mrs. saporta! really? you're not going to join me?”

 

they glance over at patrick sympathetically, then at their son. they look away quickly.

 

“we'd prefer not to get involved in.. this,” his mother says.


 

joe and patrick end up dancing together. they’re pretty close in height, so they sort of defeat the purpose of the smol/tol dance, but no one stops them. no one had ever seen patrick refuse to separate from someone like he did with joe, not even pete, so they let them be. as they move to a small, empty corner of the dance floor, every eye in the room follows.

 

“hey, man if you’re stressed, i got some good shit in my bag. lemme roll you a joint,” joe offers.

 

“no, i'm good,” patrick says, resting his head on joe’s chest. he places his ear right over joe’s heart and listens to the steady beat, matching his own breathing. he didn’t even realize he had closed his eyes until he feels joe’s hand under his chin, gently pushing upward. he looks up into clear blue eyes, and feels a little unworthy of the love radiating off the man cradling him so gently in his arms, the man he could never be compatible with in bed.

 

he takes a deep breath and says, “i-”

 

“i know.”

 

“but i don’t, i don’t do…”

 

“i love you for who you are, patrick. i don’t care if you don’t ever sleep with me, or if you don’t want me the way frank slobbers over gerard. i love you for you. and i know you love me too. you don’t have to say it.”

 

patrick almost cries.

 

joe leans in and patrick seals the kiss, and though the whole dance floor stops to watch, they remain blind to the rest of the world. nothing else matters but the two of them. nothing else exists.


 

toward the end of the night, everyone is a little tipsy and sitting in a circle near the dance floor. christa is off dancing with ray’s father, and he’s very happy she’s getting on with his parents so well. he’s a bit worried she won’t be able to handle his friends though, and frank is just trying to prove him right.

 

"god, ray, why are you such a fucking hetero?" complains frank, ever the obnoxious drunk.

 

ray looks at him, puzzled.

 

"i mean, we're all such queers and you're the only one here that's straight," he continues, kissing gerard sloppily on the cheek.

 

"it's not like i chose to be straight, man. i just am."

 

"it isn't a bad thing, ray," gerard pipes up, as he wipes some of frank’s slobber off his face. "personally, i'm just surprised you managed to stay straight surrounded by so many people that aren't."

 

ray looks around and notices all the gay couples: mikey and pete, gee and frankie, patrick and joe, gabe and bill. pete is sitting on mikey, frank is molesting gerard (nothing out, and patrick is sitting next to joe. ray looks at his empty lap, before remembering that his girlfriend is on the dance floor. mikey and joe notice at the same time and offer for ray to borrow pete and patrick respectively and they both climb into ray’s lap to sit down and snuggle (mostly with each other but also kind of with ray) when he points out, "what is it with you guys and sharing people?"

 

frank stares intensely at gerard for a moment, and declares, "i don't care what the fuck they wanna do, gee is mine!" he gloms onto him, curling into gee's chest, and for a moment, everyone coos over the adorable scene, but then frank gets all up in gerard’s face and stage whispers, "i wanna piss on you like dogs do to mark their territory.”

 

"gross! what the fuck, frank?" exclaims ray.

 

pete looks at mikey in alarm from across their little circle. "please, never piss on me."

 

"i promise i will never piss on you, petey."

 

joe turns to patrick.

 

"one time i was high and pissing in the woods and accidentally got your leg, but i promise it wasn't kinky or anything, oh god."

 

patrick laughs. "no worries, i know.”

 

"i'll try that,” answers gee, seemingly oblivious to everyone’s comments. “doesn't sound too bad.”

 

he starts rattling off logistics about when, and where, and what body part, and how long, and how it will smell while the group collectively makes puke and vomit noises, causing frankie to turn toward gee with a look in his eye, but gee nips it right in the bud.

 

"nope. that's one thing i will not try. well, that and needles.” he shudders. “go cuddle with ray."

 

gee pushes frank toward the puppy pile sitting on top of ray, and goes to cuddle with mikey, who accepts him gladly.

 


 

 End Credits Scene:

 

Curly: But how will she reach his hair? :p

 

BiDeanW: kick him in the shin first and then pull the hair?

 

Curly: I'm laughing so hard right now. Okay how about she steps on his toes then gets him to reach down to grab his foot then she sees an opportunity and grabs his hair. Okay it's getting mean again lol.

 

BiDeanW: Uhhhh maybe she just stomps on his foot and grabs his chin and makes him look her in the eye? Still getting the point across but less violent

 

Curly: Okay but gabe and Brendon have to stop dancing and notice this happening and die. Like on the floor laughing how tiny little Hayley gets bill.

 

BiDeanW: Omg what if like gabe was like “okay brendon i’m gonna see how jealous my bill gets when i dance with someone else” and they’re watching the whole time but like ~stealth? So when she stomps his foot he notices and cracks up??

 

Curly: Okay wait what if they don't notice because they are so busy grinding then Hayley walks over and grabs their crotches and forces them to look at bill who is still bent over lol and meantime everyone else like Patrick and mikey are watching this and on the floor laughing.

 

BiDeanW: Maybe she doesn’t grab their crotches lol a little too far hmm but maybe she stomps their feet too?

 

Curly: Hmm okay i understand that's too far. Um maybe Patrick notices first and gets Brendon and gabes attention and they all watch Hayley manhandling bill?

 

BiDeanW: Yeah that sounds good:)))

 

Curly: Great:) I sort of want to post this discussion in the notes at the end of the chapter like blooper style at end of a marvel movie? That one last 10 second scene:D

 

BiDeanW: Yessss this is our end-credits scene!!

 

Curly: :DDDDD

 

BiDeanW: I hope people appreciate the time we put into all this omg

Chapter Text

"so we're not doing a double honeymoon?"

pete's lip trembles.

"but- but i thought we could all go together. you and gee can fly, and frank and i can go in your suitcases."

mikey chokes on his coffee.

"you know we have money, right? like we can fly business now and get fast passes in the parks. either way, gee wants to go to italy and paris with frank to visit all the artsy museums and shit. and you know frank, he's just the epitome of romance. paris will be perfect for him," mikey snorts.

"but.. harry potter world! gee has to come!!"

mikey pulls pete into his lap and kisses him.

"i love you. and we're gonna have awesome time. rides." kiss. "butterbeer." kiss. "and fantastic sex."

pete giggles.

"don't you mean fabulous?"

"you realize you married me and not my brother, right?"

"i do," says pete, giggling at his own pun, "but sometimes i wonder if frank knows he married gee. gerard is gonna be all over the louvre and frank is not even gonna know what hit him."

"yeah but he'll stare at gee adoringly and then they'll have hot kinky sex and then maybe he'll get gee to draw him a tattoo of his favorite painting."

mikey pulls pete toward the bed and throws him on top of all the clothes waiting to be packed.

"i think i'll exercise my matrimonial rights and ravish my husband on our wedding bed."

"wow, when did you swallow a dictionary?"

mikey shuts him up with a kiss.

"mwa!"

Chapter Text

"do you mind taking off your clothes? i want to see how angels hide their wings."

the corner of mikey's mouth twitches. "did you get that from gabe?"

"how did you know?"

"that's, like, his generic line. he uses it when he wants to get in people's pants."

"and how would you know?" pete asks indignantly.

he shrugs. "why do you keep forgetting me and gabe hooked up?"

"i choose not to think about who i've had to share my husband with, thank you."

"it hasn't been that many people. gabe has been around with way more people than me. even you’ve made out with him! you should be more worried about who you’ve shared him with. he’s been with like most of the people who came to our wedding. he ends up making out with more people than sex though, i think. i remember the first time i met gabe.”

____________________________________________________________________________


gabe walks over to a guy with cropped platinum blonde hair. he's been staring at him the whole night and his voice is sort of dorky but he's also drop dead gorgeous so gabe’s gotta pull out his best lines.

 

“hey gorgeous.”

 

the blonde guy rolls his eyes.

 

“you heading to bed? do you mind if i… slytherin?"

 

the malfoy lookalike loses his shit and spits his drink out (and barely avoids calling his brother just to see his face but files it away to tell him in the morning). that’s enough encouragement for gabe, so he forges on.

 

"is that a wand in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?"

 

malfoy, as gabe has started to call the pretty blonde dude in his head, snorts.

 

"rumor has it that hagrid is not the only giant on campus."

 

malfoy sort of laughs.

 

"up for a duel? i'm told i'm pretty good with a wand."

 

malfoy lets out a honking laugh that should probably turn gabe off, but he's just so genuinely pleased by these lines that gabe just wants to continue.

 

"one night with me, and they'll be calling you moaning myrtle.” he throws in an over exaggerated wink for good measure.

 

draco (because malfoy is suddenly much too formal) falls over, clutching his sides.

 

“oh my god, stop-” he gets out in between a mixture of giggles and snorts. “i can't take it!”

 

gabe’s been getting major side eye from some tiny (most people are small to gabe, but this one takes the cake) dude with jet black hair and quite a few facial piercings that keeps popping up around them, but never actually making a move. he's sort of… hovering in the background. it looks like he’s making sure draco is okay and also glaring at anyone who approaches him. interesting.

 

draco finally notices him and pulls him into a one armed hug with a squeal of, “frankie! you gotta hear these. go on,” he says, gesturing to gabe, “tell him what you told me! they were so funny!”

 

gabe repeats the lines, feeling slightly like a tool because these two obviously have something going on (even if they don't know it). he's a little easy, but he isn't one to encroach on other people’s territory. blondie definitely belongs to this dude– it's now glaringly obvious to gabe and probably anyone around them.

 

he's also feeling just a bit threatened by the tiny guy whose hands are just a little too close to his balls for comfort and the pretty blond one hasn't even asked for his name. gabe can see that he's not getting anywhere and wanders off, when he notices a tall, skinny dude with light brown hair, wearing an anthrax t-shirt. he's lanky and his knees sort of knock together, but not in an unattractive way. (haha way.) gabe decides to go back to his tried and true lines.

 

"hey gorgeous, can i borrow your phone? i need to call god and tell him he's missing an angel." the guy looks at him, unimpressed. he tries again. "y'know midtown?"

he snorts. "of course i do."

"well, guess what?"

"what."

"i'm in midtown."

"really."

gabe nods. "yeah, i play bass."

"i know."

"and?"

"and?" he says, looking bored.

"you not interested?"

the kid shrugs, then looks him up and down. "maybe."

gabe sighs internally. this is gonna take some work. "gabe." he sticks out his hand.

"mikey," the kid replies, shaking it.

"nice to meet you, mikey. ridiculous name, by the way," gabe adds, trying to get a reaction out of the blasé dude. he laces his fingers through mikey’s and starts to lead mikey to the huge crowd of people dancing.

"what, you think 'michael' is any better?"

"nah. mikey suits you," says gabe, giving his trademark look™.

 

the dance floor is packed but gabe manages to dance them into the crowd, smoothly pressing against a sea of bodies, clearly in his element. mikey never looks in his element. his element is awkward gangly man-boy emos. his friends are the definition of ‘out of their element’. but somehow gabe brings him out of his shell and soon enough, they’re grinding. gabe’s got his hand in the air and mikey’s got a beer in his hand, and the combination of alcohol and gabe’s rubbing has him hot and ready. he leans in a bit and whispers into gabe’s neck, “wanna get out of here?”

 

the club is really loud and gabe is really tall, so mikey tries to get his attention by licking his neck and when that just makes gabe dance more frenetically, mikey sort of stands on his tip toes and bites the bottom of gabe’s ear.

 

“wanna get out of here?” he repeats.

gabe smiles and pulls mikey out of the crowd. they head for the door, gabe's hand on mikey’s back, and mikey waves goodbye to gerard. gabe follows the direction of mikey’s eye. it's the hot blonde dude. gabe looks at mikey inquisitively.

 

“just saying bye to my brother.”

____________________________________________________________________________

 

“aw man i have some amazing gabe stories, dude has just been around the block you know. i still can’t get over him and bill. i’m so fucking happy they’re together. bill, like, teaches gabe how to be a normal person”

____________________________________________________________________________

 

gabe walks over twirling a quarter between his fingers.

 

"if i flip this coin, what are the chances of me getting head tonight?"

"what?"

"if i flip this coin, what are the chances of me getting head tonight?" gabe repeats, a little unsettled by the look in william's eyes.

"i am underage, gabriel."

he shrugs. "is it illegal to-"

"yes," william says, glaring.

"but it's not real-"

"oh my god, no. you're not making me jailbait."

he sighs. "fine. can i at least hold your hand?"

william consents to having his hand held, which gabe will count as a win.

that's as far as it gets. gabe is fine with that.

 

“you do understand that oral sex is still sex, right?”

 

“what?”

____________________________________________________________________________

 

“hahahahaha, gabe isn’t all bad. he’s surprisingly considerate and responsible when he needs to be.”

 

“gabe? our gabe? tall doofus, slick smile trying to get into literally anyone's pants gabe?”

 

“he does good things sometimes that you don’t know about.”

____________________________________________________________________________


gabe approaches a tiny girl with shocking orange and red hair, sitting at the bar. he’s been watching her for an hour and the amount of drinks she's knocking back would leave him on the floor. he's not sure if she's here alone or if she knows the bartender.

 

"hey girl, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" gabe asks, winking.

hayley raises an eyebrow. “no, but i scraped my knees crawling out of hell.”


"oh i like that! can i use that?"

hayley shrugs. "i'm drunk and you're tall. why not?"

"what does me being tall have to do with anything?"

hayley gives him a look™. "tall boys are automatically more attractive. ohmigod did i say that out loud? shit i, fuck- i can't even think of a threat right now, but know that i will do something very bad if you tell anyone that i said that. short people are fucking awesome too.”


"pssh, i'm not a boy, i'm a man."

hayley snorts. "sure you are," she says. still, she takes his hand when he offers it to her.

they start to dance but hayley is sort of out of it so gabe lifts hayley up so she can rest her head on his shoulder and she sort of cuddles into his neck and he realizes that this is not gonna end in sex but she's so little and adorable he just lets her curl in, holding her securely in his arms. after a few minutes of swaying, he feels her go limp in his arms and hears a little snuffling sound in his ear. gabe gently carries her off the dance floor and manages to find someone who knows her because he doesn't want her to go home alone, she might choke on her own vomit or some other cliche. better safe than sorry.

____________________________________________________________________________

 

“it. is. beautiful! today.”

 

“you get laid last night?”

 

“not everything in life is about sex, gabriel.”

 

“did you have mind-blowing sex last night, peter?”

 

“my mind wasn't the only thing getting blown last night.” pete bends over laughing at his own terrible joke.

 

“point made. did you secure consent?!”

 

“...with my husband…? what the fuck man, yeah of course.”

 

“did you use a condom?”

 

“yes gabriel, i do in fact know how to have safe sex.”

 

“did you use lube?”

 

“what's with the 20 questions man?”

 

“i just recently learned the importance of communication and educating the young generation, my dear peter. i also plan on tackling people in football jerseys and saying ‘look how he’s dressed: he’s asking for it!’”

 

“that is hysterical; call me first because i want to come with, but i'm older than you, thank you. and more educated. why are you just learning about this now?”

 

“you are four months older in sun years my friend, but i am studying under the brilliant professor billiam, therefore i exceed your age in wisdom. i am his young grasshopper.” gabe bends his lanky arms and makes a weird face, wiggling his eyebrows like antennae. “however you dress, wherever you go, yes means yes, and no means no. billiam taught me that. he also recently showed me a brilliant ad about non-consensual sex. it's two papers that are stuck together and when you tear them open, it's someone's legs spread, and it says: if you have to use force, it's rape.”

 

“why do you say non-consensual sex? consensual sex is just sex. to say that implies that there is such a thing as non-consensual sex. which there isn’t. that’s rape. that is what it needs to be called. there is only sex or rape. do not teach people that rape is just another type of sex. they are two very separate events. you wouldn’t say ‘breathing swimming’ and ‘non-breathing swimming’, you say swimming and drowning. don’t teach people about ‘non-consensual sex’. it doesn’t exist.” (stolen almost word for word from socialnetworkhell on tumblr)

 

gabe stares at pete with his mouth wide open. pete moves his hand to close gabe’s mouth for him and gabe swats him away.

 

“you are one deep motherfucker peter lewis kingston wentz the third.”

 

“you know we were talking about your infamous pickup lines the other day. remember when you tried to pick me up?”

____________________________________________________________________________

 

“hi, i’m doing a survey of what people think are the worst pickup lines. do, do you think it’s:

(a) do you come here often?

(b) what’s your sign? or,

(c) hello, i’m doing a survey of what people think are the work pickup lines?”

 

pete laughs. he puts out his hand to introduce himself. “pete wentz.”

 

“gabe saporta,” he says, shaking pete’s hand. “who’s the kid?” asks gabe, jerking his head toward patrick who’s awkwardly standing behind pete.

 

“this is patrick! we’re from the chicago scene but we’re checking out the east coast.”

 

gabe nods hello to the kid. he looks about 14 years old.

 

“this your sugar daddy?”

 

the kid turns purple. pete smacks gabe on the arm and gives patrick a hug.

 

“he’s my cuddle buddy, and he’s seventeen so stay away.”

 

somehow patrick being seventeen doesn’t stop pete and gabe from getting hammered with patrick awkwardly watching in the background, being the only responsible adult. ( someone’s got make sure pete doesn’t get himself killed during a random hookup.) it’s nearing 2am and pete is letting loose. who knew he was a sad drunk??

 

"there's just so many dogs in the world right now that aren't being petted! and i could be doing something to change that. i could adopt all of them!!!"

 

gabe is at his breaking point because pete is shouting way too loudly and gabe has held himself back the whole night. fuck it. fuck everything. fuck pete’s seventeen year old shadow. gabe kisses pete.

 

“woah.”

 

gabe kisses pete again.

 

“shit you’re hot.”

 

pete’s breathing hard. “you are too. fuck, but it’s just kissing. i’m not good for more ‘down there’. i’m down for you grabbing my butt, but, like, that's pretty much it."

 

gabe doesn’t even hesitate. there’s a reason pete respects him to this day.

 

“yeah, of course man. whatever you’re comfortable with.”

 

pete looks relieved. “i mean we could still make out or whatever."

 

“rad.”

 

at this point, pete seems to remember that he brought patrick.

 

“um…. wanna continue this in my hotel room? i’ve got a couch and room service.”

 

“sounds good to me. is the kid coming with?”

 

“he’s mine. he always comes with.”

 

“cool, cool. i’ve never really had a cuddle pile before. mostly because i don’t usually play with jailbait.”

 

gabe smirks and pete is unsure if he should punch him, when gabe says, “sounds like a fun night in.”

____________________________________________________________________________

 

pete takes bill out on his twenty first birthday. patrick mandates that gabe doesn't come along because he's notoriously smooth when he's drunk and patrick doesn't trust him. bill turns out to be a really sappy drunk.

 

"wow, man, gabe is really tall, you know that?"

 

“so much hate, william; you also are ridonkulously tall.”

 

after three hours of listening to bill pine after gabe, patrick gives in. what the hell? it’s his twenty first: it’s about time they get together. they’re getting married someday anyway, even if they don't know it yet.

 

gabe shows up twenty minutes after patrick calls him and he doesn't disappoint.

 

"do you work for ups bec i could have sworn i saw you checking out my package."

 

“the fuck, gabe?” (pete)

 

“god, gabe!” (patrick)

 

“gaby baby!” (bill)

 

“billiam!”

 

bill blurts out, “i love you so much, gaby!”

 

man, bill is a sloppy drunk. talk about the opposite of suave. but they kiss and all is right in the world.

____________________________________________________________________________

 

eventually, gabe shares his lengthy list of sexcapades with billiam. the ones he remembers at least. one didn’t stand out until the eighth season of american idol.

____________________________________________________________________________

 

gabe opens his eyes and quickly shuts them again. the light is trying to murder him. as he lies in bed, he glimpses a few flashbacks of the night before. glitter. everywhere. he remembers approaching a really tall hot guy with gorgeous blue eyes like ice. hot hot ice. and ugh, his eyeliner was flawless. fuck me. and his little blond friend kept the party going. gabe could have sworn she was dressed in a trash bag. a fucking trash bag. and she looked hot.

gabe manages to get out of bed and into the shower. he has glitter in his asscrack. literally. glitter everywhere. he vaguely remembers the guy opening his boxers and blowing glitter inside while he pole danced in the club. he doesn't even remember when he lost his clothes. shit and those were my good jeans too , he thinks. ripped in all the right places and just the right shade of black. moment of silence for my lost skinny jeans. he briefly mourns them, then gets out of the shower because he needs coffee asap.

gabe staggers into the kitchen and manages to down some shitty instant coffee when the college kid he met at the party walks in with a dunkin donuts bag.

"marry me."

the college kid passes the bag to gabe.

"you looked like you really needed this when i woke up. kesha is waiting for me in the car outside. i gotta go. thanks for an awesome night."

the light hits his eyes and they positively glow they're so light. he leans in and kisses gabe, rough and dirty.

"adam lambert. remember my name."

____________________________________________________________________________

FIN

____________________________________________________________________________

End notes:

Don't try to rationalize the timeline- I didn't. 

PS sorry about the formatting issues: AO3 is not being kind to me. 

 

Pickup lines that did not make it into the chapter: 

1. Do you like titanic or was that the worst icebreaker I ever used?

2. Is there a mirror in your pants? Because I think I can see myself in them.

3. I'm not an impala but you can call me baby.

4. I'll be the pizza man, you be the babysitter.

5. There are 23 letters in the alphabet... oh right there's 26, sorry I forgot U R A Q T.

6. Did you fall from heaven? 'cause your face is pretty messed up.

7. Anything you say can and will be held against you, so only say my name, it will be held against you.