Work Text:
America's Suitehearts (featuring Joe Budden, MURS, and 88-Keys), Fall Out Boy
"Laugh as another dream runs away from me..."
Pete pulls an unwilling Patrick onto the club's dance floor, laughing the whole way. The hip-hop group on the stage notices them and starts up a new song. Patrick can appreciate the lines, always has, but he can't spin them himself. He doesn't have the words. Pete dances him closer and closer to the stage and before he knows it, he's up there with them. The rappers are grinning at him, waiting, and Pete throws him a wink and blows a kiss. Patrick takes a deep breath and belts out a refrain made of lyrics Pete had only just sent him that morning.
Polite, MuteMath
Pete's been staring out the bus window, frown firmly in place, since they left the last venue. It's not like he wants to be alone, he just is. He falls asleep at some point. When the morning's bleary rays hit him, he has a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He smiles.
Kaijin, BalladoftheSea (OCReMix)
"God, please don't cry, alright?"
"You're fucking leaving me! You're fucking leaving me because you can't make up your motherfucking mind!"
"No! Look, I just-- I can make this work both ways!"
"Oh, yeah, Pete, let's try to make everyone unhappy here."
"It's not like that!"
"Then what is it like?!"
"I love you. I love Ashlee too. It's not about something she can give me that you can't. It's just... different."
"Different..."
"Yes. God, 'Trick, please understand."
"I don't think I can."
"'Trick..."
"Good luck, Wentz."
Shiny Toy Guns, You Are The One (Gabriel and Dresden Club Mix)
"Kissing over and over again..."
"Hey, Pete?" Patrick snuggles into Pete's side. He's got that fuzzy glow that says he's had a few too many. They're tucked away in the VIP room, far from the deafening din of the main club. "Gabe said you like me. Do you like me?"
"Of course I like you; you're my best friend." Pete gives him a tiny indulgent smile and plants a kiss on the top of his head.
"No, no, no. I mean like me like me. Do you like me like me?" Pete just rolls his eyes and chuckles. "Come on!" Patrick pokes at his side. "Do you like me like me or don't you?" He tries to give Pete a scrutinizing look and utterly fails. "Gabe said you want to fuck me," he continues, voice dropping a full octave, and it sends chills up Pete's spine. "I think you want to fuck me, Peter Wentz."
With that, Patrick pulls Pete down to his level, crashing their lips together. Pete moans into the kiss. This is what he's wanted for years. He's already half-hard from all the anticipation that's had too long to fester.
"Wait," Pete mumbles pushing Patrick away. He looks vaguely disgruntled. "Ask me in the morning when you're sober, okay? For now, d'you want to dance with me?"
"Yeah!" Pete smirks. He wouldn't take advantage of Patrick like that when he's drunk. He's everything. No way in hell was Pete fucking that up. And really, this is the only way to get him to dance most of the time. They step out the room and into the heavy thudding techno beats.
Acetone, Kenikie
"I would like another way to breath..."
Patrick strummed idly at his acoustic, playing a few random chords. They could be a song if he wanted. Not one of theirs, not Fall Out Boy's, but someone's. At the foot of the hotel bed, Pete hummed along brokenly, as if the words were floating around with the notes Patrick was playing. They chased after them lazily, both stuck in the funk of ending relationships.
"I want another way to breath," Pete muttered, "one that has nothing to do with a warm body next to me. Unless it's yours, 'Tricky." He flashed Patrick a smile, a warm private smile. Patrick blushed and grinned and continued to strum until he ran out of notes.
Poor Jack, Plain White T's
"Only dust and a plaque that reads 'Here lies dear old Jack'..."
Pete skulked through the graveyard, kicking idly at the tombstones he passed and raising annoyed ghosts. He ignored their mutterings. He'd ruined it. Hemmy trailed ethereally after him, looking vaguely concerned.
"It's not your fault, you know." He looked up. Had he eyes, they'd be glazed with grief. Patrick stood before him, fiddling with his sleeves and stitches nervously.
"It is."
Virtual Diva, Don Omar
"Sencillo, tamo trabajando por encima de sus expectativas... (Simple, love working over its expectations... [I think])"
Patrick watched her from across the room, eyes glued to the way her sharp hips stabbed at the air as they swayed. She looked up, catching his eye and smirking. Her honey eyes glittered in the low light, crow's feet just barely visible. Joe walked up behind him and slapped a hand on his shoulders with a laugh.
"Pete? Really?" Joe took a swig of his beer. "You're going to have to drive like a bat out of hell to catch her. She's got a thing for the ones who win."
"Then I guess I'm going to need a better car." Patrick could drive, really he could. And if that's what he needed to get Pete, he'd get it. "What's her favorite color?" Joe gave him a look. "For the paint job." Joe just laughed again.
Aesthetic Athletics, team9
Dr. Benzedrine sighed and looked up from his work. Mr. Sandman was there, grinning madly at him with a doubled smile.
"We're going dream hopping. Everyone is. There's a disco. We have to go." Benzedrine sighed again. How the Dreamer always managed to be a distraction was a wonder.
"Fine. One song then I need to get back to work."
"Okay, whatever. You need to change first." Mr. Sandman placed a little kiss on his cheek and he could swear he almost felt the painted on bone. Maybe this is why...
Linkin Park, Part of Me (Unreleased Track)
"Cut myself free, willingly stop just what's killing me..."
Fuck! Patrick swung around and aimed another punch at the wall. Andy was in the doorway, watching with a frown like he understood. Patrick wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp. He didn't know. He didn't know at all. He hadn't lost half of himself. If Patrick let his eyes close, he could see the note. If he listened to his own thoughts, he could almost hear Pete reading it as he wrote. Fucking fuck!
Patrick collapsed into a heap of tears on the carpet.
"Patrick, come on. We have to go. You have to go."
"I know. I just... Give me a second." He had a plan, a fucked up plan but a plan. Pete would have hated him for it but Pete wasn't there anymore and that was the problem. He walked into the bathroom with a purpose.
Oasis, Wonderwall
"Maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me..."
Pete rolled over and smiled. Patrick was still sleep, lips slightly parted and hair a mess on his head. He reached over to brush it out his eyes and let his hand rest on his cheek. What he had to say to him could wait until later. Pete rolled over, grabbing his phone as he sat on the edge of the bed. Patrick whimpered slightly but didn't wake up. Pete flipped through his contacts, pausing before he pushed the button to dial. The ring in his ears seemed to stretch endlessly.
"Hello?" She had been sleeping. Pete cursed himself. "Pete?"
"Ash, I need to talk to you."
"Okay. Can it wait?"
"...Sure."