something a bit different
Title: Green Eyed
Author: Kasha
Rating: PG…the fuck?
Summary: It was just that, sometimes, Joe got jealous.
Author’s Notes: Fake like woah. Inspired, for some reason, by Pete’s online response to the question of why Patrick “sucked balls” on FUSE: “that kid is my bestfriend, i don't care if you're a girl i'd still punch you in the mouth if you said that to my face. have a nice day.”
It didn’t happen that often, but sometimes, Joe got jealous. Not jealous jealous, really, but just kind of jealous in that inconsequential way that everyone in a group of close friends got sometimes. It was human nature, this friendly jealousy. It wasn’t like it meant anything.
It was never even over anything big, honestly, just a whole bunch of little things that kept adding up.
Like the way Pete would always make sure to high-five Patrick first before a show, letting his hand linger a bit too long before pulling away and moving on to Joe and Andy, almost as an afterthought. Joe had gotten into the habit of slapping hands with Andy first thing sort of by default. And it wasn’t that Joe didn’t love Andy like a brother, because he did, it was just that he would have liked to maybe high-five Pete first for once, just to change things up. But it wasn’t a big deal or anything.
Or the way Pete had to run all his lyrics by Patrick before he’d even consider letting anyone else see them, how he freaked out the one time Joe had made the mistake of casually glancing through a notebook left open on the sofa and could only be calmed down by—who else—Patrick. Joe had stood outside the bathroom door for twenty minutes assuring Pete that he hadn’t really read anything and he hadn’t meant anything by it, the notebook was just there, and he would never do it again and he was really, really sorry. And yeah, it had kind of hurt Joe’s feelings just a little that Pete had only unlocked the door when Patrick had shown up and launched into some ridiculous joke about nuns and walruses. And, okay, maybe he had felt a little left out when, instead of coming out and apologizing to Joe for flipping, Pete had just yanked Patrick into the bathroom with him and relocked the door firmly behind him. But it hadn’t actually bothered Joe.
And the way Pete’s answers on the Q&A section of the band’s website were filled with references to Patrick, some joking, some painfully earnest, even though the kid avoided the internet like the plague and would never even read them. The first time Joe had seen his name appear in Pete’s uncapitalized and frequently unpunctuated responses, he’d felt an irrational thrill of joy tingling somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Since then, he’d surreptitiously check the site whenever he saw Pete screwing around on his sidekick, eagerly looking for any further mention of his name. More and more often, he found only Patrick’s. But it was just one of those things, just one of those silly things that Joe didn’t really care about.
The worst, though, was the way Pete would kiss Patrick when he thought no one else was looking, the way he would pull the younger man to him and wrap an arm around his shoulders and tenderly clasp his hand even when he knew damn well that plenty of people were looking. And it wasn’t that Joe wanted to be Patrick right then. It wasn’t that Joe would give anything just to spend five minutes behind those geeky glasses and under that stupid hat so he could hear Pete whisper in his ear that he loved him.
It really wasn’t.
It was just that, sometimes, Joe got jealous.
Author: Kasha
Rating: PG…the fuck?
Summary: It was just that, sometimes, Joe got jealous.
Author’s Notes: Fake like woah. Inspired, for some reason, by Pete’s online response to the question of why Patrick “sucked balls” on FUSE: “that kid is my bestfriend, i don't care if you're a girl i'd still punch you in the mouth if you said that to my face. have a nice day.”
It didn’t happen that often, but sometimes, Joe got jealous. Not jealous jealous, really, but just kind of jealous in that inconsequential way that everyone in a group of close friends got sometimes. It was human nature, this friendly jealousy. It wasn’t like it meant anything.
It was never even over anything big, honestly, just a whole bunch of little things that kept adding up.
Like the way Pete would always make sure to high-five Patrick first before a show, letting his hand linger a bit too long before pulling away and moving on to Joe and Andy, almost as an afterthought. Joe had gotten into the habit of slapping hands with Andy first thing sort of by default. And it wasn’t that Joe didn’t love Andy like a brother, because he did, it was just that he would have liked to maybe high-five Pete first for once, just to change things up. But it wasn’t a big deal or anything.
Or the way Pete had to run all his lyrics by Patrick before he’d even consider letting anyone else see them, how he freaked out the one time Joe had made the mistake of casually glancing through a notebook left open on the sofa and could only be calmed down by—who else—Patrick. Joe had stood outside the bathroom door for twenty minutes assuring Pete that he hadn’t really read anything and he hadn’t meant anything by it, the notebook was just there, and he would never do it again and he was really, really sorry. And yeah, it had kind of hurt Joe’s feelings just a little that Pete had only unlocked the door when Patrick had shown up and launched into some ridiculous joke about nuns and walruses. And, okay, maybe he had felt a little left out when, instead of coming out and apologizing to Joe for flipping, Pete had just yanked Patrick into the bathroom with him and relocked the door firmly behind him. But it hadn’t actually bothered Joe.
And the way Pete’s answers on the Q&A section of the band’s website were filled with references to Patrick, some joking, some painfully earnest, even though the kid avoided the internet like the plague and would never even read them. The first time Joe had seen his name appear in Pete’s uncapitalized and frequently unpunctuated responses, he’d felt an irrational thrill of joy tingling somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Since then, he’d surreptitiously check the site whenever he saw Pete screwing around on his sidekick, eagerly looking for any further mention of his name. More and more often, he found only Patrick’s. But it was just one of those things, just one of those silly things that Joe didn’t really care about.
The worst, though, was the way Pete would kiss Patrick when he thought no one else was looking, the way he would pull the younger man to him and wrap an arm around his shoulders and tenderly clasp his hand even when he knew damn well that plenty of people were looking. And it wasn’t that Joe wanted to be Patrick right then. It wasn’t that Joe would give anything just to spend five minutes behind those geeky glasses and under that stupid hat so he could hear Pete whisper in his ear that he loved him.
It really wasn’t.
It was just that, sometimes, Joe got jealous.