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"Hey." Elisa pokes Pete with her toe. It's impeccably polished -- like Meagan when she goes on a job, rather than Meagan when she's home and letting Bronx paint her nails. She -- Elisa -- also has these amazing feet. Really well-shaped. And, like, the perfect size. Pete is kind of jealous of her feet, since his are too small.

Okay, actually, Pete never even noticed feet, mostly, until Gabe went off about them one night when they were both high on peyote, and suddenly Pete notices feet now. Suddenly feet are a thing. Maybe not suddenly, actually, since it's been, like, four years. Whatever.

"Hey," says Elisa again, and pokes Pete even harder.

"Your toenails are sharp," he says, and grabs her pokey foot, pulls it into his lap. He's the master at foot massage. Maybe that's how Patrick got Elisa -- foot massage. It makes as much sense as anything else (and way more sense than thinking that Patrick just has game). There's lotion on the side table -- maybe because Patrick rubs Elisa's feet when they sit on the couch? -- so Pete grabs it. He doesn't need to pay attention to Property Brothers, anyway, they just remind him of Mikey and Gerard and make him sad he doesn't have granite countertops.

"Mmm." She arches her back and sighs when he hits a spot on the ball of her foot, right in a line between her big toe and first toe. "There, good, there."

Pete focuses, concentrates, tries to get it right. When she sighs again and relaxes, he moves on to rubbing each toe. "Did you need something?"


"You said hey. So, like, did you need something? Did you need me to change the channel?"

"Oh. No, sorry, I got distracted." She puts her other foot in Pete's lap. "This one now."

"Yeah, sure." Pete focuses on her other foot. This one has hair on the big toe and on top of her instep. It's kind of cool, like a secret about her he gets to know.

"You're pretty good at that," she says finally.

"I try really hard."

"You try hard at other stuff too, probably, right?"

"Yes?" he says cautiously. Is this some kind of trick to yell at him for something Patrick is mad about? He can't tell.

"Patrick is going to be gone getting dinner for…" She looks at her watch. Who wears a watch when you can just check a phone? Elisa and Gabe. That's it. "At least another hour."

"An hour? I thought he was getting Thai?"

"Yeah, but we had a conversation." She raises her eyebrows at Pete.

"Am I about to get yelled at?" he asks. He can't keep rubbing her feet. Not if she's going to yell at him. How can she let him rub her feet when she's about to yell? Oh, god, she really is just like Patrick.

"No? I was thinking… we could. Like. Make out a little."

"Oh my god." Pete drops her feet and scrambles away from her as fast as she can. "You're already married. You can't test me now. Jesus, Elisa."

"I'm not testing you. Patrick and I discussed it. I want to make out with you. And you could finger me, too," she says thoughtfully, generously, like she's offering him a prize.

Her legs are long and pale and smooth, and her shorts are short. Maybe it is a prize.

Or maybe it's a trap and Patrick is going to refuse to keep working on new songs if Pete says yes.

"No," he says. "No way. No."

"Okay." She sits up and folds her legs and pats the couch next to her. "Seriously, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it weird. I had a whole… speech. But I really did get distracted."

"You had a speech?"

"Yeah, you know." She waves her hand. "About you and Patrick being so intimate, and about how I can be a connection between you, and I really like you and think you're probably a good kisser, and Meagan says you're good with your hands, and --"

"You talked to Meagan?" Pete doesn't walk any closer to her.

"Well, I asked her if she'd mind and she said you both kiss other people sometimes so it wouldn't be a big deal unless you were kissing Patrick --"

"Patrick's straight," Pete says automatically.

"Right, but sometimes he gets off thinking about me with other people? So you'd be the perfect… you know, you'd be perfect. I was thinking about it anyway, he'd be into it, Meagan doesn't mind -- but if you aren't into it, that's totally fine! No pressure!"

She looks so concerned. He frowns. "No pressure," he says. "I don't feel pressured."

"But you're still on the other side of the room." She digs in the cushions for the remote and raises the volume on the Property Brothers. "It's fine, honey. It's fine. Come sit, I'll text Patrick and tell him to come home faster, that it's okay."

Pete climbs over the armrest of the couch and sits on it. "It's really not a trick?"

She shakes her head. "Not a trick. Just… a thought I expressed poorly."

He slides down onto the couch and then crawls closer to her, looking up through his shaggy bangs. "Patrick's okay with it?"

She smiles down at him and touches his face. "I promise. I would never make that up. I would never trick you. Never. That would be terrible and mean."

"You are so incredibly hot," he says fervently.

"I think you're really pretty," she replies softly, and tilts his head up, and kisses him gently.

There's a weird explosion of guilt-shame-pleasure in his stomach, the kind of explosion he loves, the kind of explosion that makes him want to rub his dick against something and come in his pants and be called a dirty boy, a naughty puppy, a bad girl --

Elisa's mouth is hot and so so wet and she takes control of the kiss like she's in charge. And she is. She's definitely in charge. She pulls Pete onto her lap and lets him straddle her thighs, and she touches him like he's the girl. God, he loves being touched like he's the girl, like he's sixteen and in the back of some jock's car and a virgin and not unhappy at all, just full of anticipation and sexism and totally ready for the other girls to whisper that she's a slut in the locker room the next day. Oh, fuck, yes, Pete wants to be a slut. Meagan must have told her, she takes such good care of him.

He lets his head fall back, lets Elisa bite his neck, lets his hips jerk against her belly. He pants to get his breath back, moans, and she sucks the moan right off his lips and onto her tongue.

And then the door opens.

"Oh, fuck," says Patrick. "Sorry, sorry, fuck. I'll go away again."

Elisa holds onto Pete tightly, like she can tell he's about to bolt.

"You're early, baby," she says, and tilts up her head. Pete tucks his face into her neck, and then realizes it's so Patrick can kiss her mouth, not so Pete can hide.

Patrick is kissing Pete's saliva.

Contrary to a lot of implications Pete has made to fans and nosy, obnoxious reporters, they have never done that before.

Pete squeaks and curls tighter into Elisa, even though it means she can definitely feel his boner -- only harder because Patrick walked in on them. There's nothing like being humiliated and feeling weird to make Pete's dick really fucking hard. Jesus.

"-- wouldn't work," Patrick is saying. "I'm so sorry, I thought he'd freak out, even though I know we had a plan --"

"You're so cute. Do you want to go into the other room and listen to our sex noises?"

Pete squeaks again.

"Honestly, I kind of want to eat? Can you do this more later? Or, like, make a date or something? And I have an idea for a song, so I want to write, but I'll need him for that."

Elisa sighs, sounding not in any way annoyed, but, like, maybe deeply amused? Something like that. "I guess," she says, and runs her hand down Pete's back. "Pete? We can make a date to do that again?"

Pete sits up and clears his throat. "Uh, only if you pick me up in a nice car," he says, trying to sound kind of like a douchebag. He's pretty sure it comes out super shy, though. Damn it.

"Only if you wear a nice dress," teases Elisa, and kisses him again with her mouth closed.

She puts her feet in Pete's lap while they eat, too, so he snaps a surreptitious picture and texts it to Gabe. Gabe loves pretty feet. He'll totally be jealous. Pete sends it to Meagan too, and gets a whole row of smiley faces back, plus a kitty face and a mouth with its tongue sticking out. Meagan really gets him.