How I Met My Doppelganger
Title: How I Met My Doppelganger
Author:
clippedwings
Rating: R (for implied sex and public groping)
Pairings: Patrick/Pete, double!Pete/Patrick, double!Pete/Peter, Mike/William, double!William/William, Butch Walker/Michael Guy Chislett (implied), Sisky/Butcher (implied). I think that's everyone.
Summary: Using the events of the video for "We've Got A Big Mess On Our Hands" by The Academy Is..., Pete indulges in narcissism, Patrick has a threesome, William gets really confused, Mike gets really jealous, and there are a couple of doubles. All in all, it's really just an average day.
Author's Notes: This fic ended up being a pretty big struggle. But I am so, so happy with how it came out. Thank you to my beta for giving me suggestions on how to get deeper into William's persona, thank you to Lesley for spazzing and keeping me going, and thanks to everyone else who kept me writing. You guys are amazing.
crossposted to
patrickxpeter, slutrick, theacademyslash, slashypunkboys
William looks at the mirror. He’s tired because, yeah, up ‘till three A.M. drinking with the boys was a really good idea right before the video shoot. He looks at the mirror and he brushes his teeth because he’s got good hygiene like that. And it doesn’t hurt if he wants to pick up any guys.
He looks at the mirror and he realizes that the mirror is smirking at him. No, no, the mirror isn’t smirking at him; it’s his reflection. His reflection is pulling out the toothbrush and fucking smirking at him. He looks confused at the mirror because he has this really killer hangover and he really needs to tell Carden not to keep him up so late anymore. He can’t tear his eyes from the mirror, even though there’s toothpaste dripping into the sink. He thinks he’s going to feel sick, his forehead feels hot, and he keeps in his breath.
This is like right out of fucking Peter Pan except he’s pretty sure that is fiction.
And then his reflection pulls back his arm and there’s a crash. There’s a crash and William’s falling to the floor.
“What the fuck?” he manages to say before he passes out.
***
Pete gets up out of bed. He distinctly remembers there being only one of him there last night. But when he looks back at the bed he can tell that’s not the case. There’s another version of him curled against the wall. The first thing he asks himself is,
“Did I drink anything last night?”
Instead of answering this, Patrick pipes up from the other room. Pete imagines that Patrick’s exclamation should be written in all caps.
“PETER WENTZ WHY THE HELL AM I NOT WEARING ANY CLOTHES?”
The figure that is still on the bed and looks an awful lot like Pete Wentz simply smirks, keeping his eyes closed tightly shut.
***
William finally pulls himself up when he realizes that the figure that has crawled out of the mirror has gotten dressed and is leaving. He wonders if he’s dreaming because this is an awful lot like The Ring, except he’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen a video in the last seven days. And if it were The Ring, there would be some creepy girl with long hair crawling out of his television.
So maybe instead, he resolves, he should lay off the booze more often.
But as he makes his way out of the door of his apartment, grabbing his cell phone on the way out, he realizes, holy shit, that figure looks a lot like him from the back side.
“Does my ass really look like that?” William thinks to himself, tilting his head to the side to get a better look.
He thinks for a moment about stalking closer and maybe doing a physical examination but with more thought he realizes that this is a very, very bad idea.
***
Pete has by now realized that this is wrong. This is so very wrong because there is not supposed to be a twin version of him walking around.
Pete is staring at the figure that is now sitting on his bed, staring back at him with a smug look on his face. Pete is staring and he’s staring and holy fuck, he should not be getting an erection right now.
“I take it you like what you see,” the figure says, the corner of his lips curving into a smirk.
Pete can’t help but grin at that and he tackles the figure immediately. It’s a little awkward at first, because let’s face it, Pete’s kissed boys, but this? Totally out of his league. He tries to uphold that above the waist rule, after all.
But this, as foreign as it is at first, is almost much too perfect. Their lips fit together like pieces of a puzzle, and their bodies interlock as legs tangle together and arms start groping at chests. It’s at this point that he really doesn’t know what name he should be moaning.
“What name should I moan?” Pete asks, breaking for air.
“Just call me Wentz. I’m your doppelganger.”
Doppelganger. The term rings a bell in Pete’s mind because goddamn did he watch a lot of Buffy. And just as quickly as Pete has realized what that means, that’s how fast it takes Pete to forget it. He forgets it because in times like these, you really can’t worry about the technical definition of “doppelganger.”
And that’s the last rational thought that passes Pete’s mind before he wraps his legs around Wentz’s waist and grinds.
***
Beckett grabs the apple and takes one big, taunting bite before tossing it away. William can barely see it, and he’s as confused as ever, but he continues to make his way out of his apartment to get a better look. Beckett pushes some yuppie to the ground and takes his wallet. William wonders why he would ever want to do a thing like that.
As William goes through the possibilities of why someone with such a resemblance to him would want to cause such harm, Beckett goes on the move again. William walks forward to try and get to the bottom of things. He hears the faint sirens of a police car, and then all of a sudden those people are pointing at him. Him! William Beckett! Why would anyone accuse him of committing a crime? He’s a fucking saint, everyone knows that! And maybe, he thinks, he should be focusing on the fact that his double committed said crime, but seriously. William Beckett does not do crime.
Better yet, who the hell called the cops?
William thinks that this is not the time to ask such questions and he slinks away into the darkness.
***
Patrick wakes up without any clothes on. He knows he’s a sound sleeper but really, sleeping through something that involves the removal of clothing? That’s just…odd.
The first thing he feels is fear. What if he was out so cold that someone…did something to him? He tries to think of who would do anything to him.
The next thing he feels is anger. Because he knows that a certain Pete Wentz is down the hall from him and this man, boy, whatever you want to call him, would probably sink to that level.
“Peter Wentz, why the hellam I not wearing any clothes?”
Patrick imagines that it wouldn’t be in all caps, but that hell definitely has to be stressed.
***
When Beckett walks into the recording studio, there is a general discord permeating through the air. The rest of his band looks at him strangely, though Beckett can’t think of any reason why this would be so.
Mike looks at Beckett especially strangely. Beckett is even sure there’s a glimpse of hurt on his face as Beckett wraps an arm almost protectively around one of the girls that he brings with him.
Chislett hasn’t been around long enough to realize that Beckett and girls don’t add up. Butcher and Siska look at each other and start laughing, shrill hyena-like laughs. Mike’s breath seems to be frozen and his heart refuses to keep beating. And Butch just doesn’t even know what to think anymore.
“Took you fucking long enough,” Butch scolds, a disapproving glare sent in William’s direction.
Beckett just blows Butch a kiss before walking his gaggle of girls to the nearby couch.
***
When Patrick walks in, he does not expect the sight splayed out in front of him. There are two Petes going at it, and they’re down to boxers. Which is strange because he was convinced that Pete went commando all the time. But that’s not the point. He’s in shock and his brain has sort of fizzled the moment he saw two half-naked Pete Wentzes on Pete’s bed.
“Since when do you have a twin?” Patrick asks, the look of confusion clear in his widened eyes and raised eyebrow.
Pete is so involved in the current makeout session that he almost doesn’t hear Patrick. But when he gets a glimpse of Patrick in only boxers, he simply grins and waves him over.
“Patrick, darling, come meet my doppelganger.”
Patrick isn’t quite sure why Pete’s calling the twin a doppelganger, but he shrugs and shuffles over to the bed. After all, two Petes are better than one.
***
Beckett’s flirting with girls. He’s flirting with girls and Mike really doesn’t like it. Later he will think back and wonder why it was the flirting with girls and not the injured hand that he was so worried about. But, he’ll end up rationalizing it with the fact that he even distinctly remembers the really amazing makeout session despite all the alcohol he drank the night before.
He’s still flirting and Mike knows that he really should calm down before he hurts someone. He really should calm down before he hurts Beckett.
“I’m out of here,” Mike mumbles as he starts to make his way out of the studio.
The rest of the band look at him just as confused as they did when Beckett walked through those doors.
Butch decides that he really, really needs to make Beckett get rid of those girls. Sisky decides that he and Butcher need a five-minute break. Chislett decides that he needs to follow Butch to make sure that he makes Beckett get rid of those girls. And to make sure that Butch doesn’t do anything stupid.
Butch decides that Beckett has seriously lost it because when was the last time that Beckett called him a “silly goose?”
***
Pete’s licking his earlobe. Pete’s licking and Wentz is nibbling and Patrick is pretty much in heaven right now. There really are subtle differences between the two of them and Patrick is not surprised he can pick them up.
Like, for instance, Pete seems to like swiping his tongue to smooth out the skin, while Wentz favors sucking and nibbling. Anything to produce a mark across Patrick’s flawless skin.
Though he really is grateful that both Pete and Wentz seem to really, really enjoy sandwiching him. There are hands up his shirt and down his pants. Patrick knows he’s never felt this good. And he knows he probably won’t feel this good ever again.
And now both versions are pulling his clothes off. As much as Patrick hates being completely naked while other people are still clothed, he seriously can’t move a muscle to stop them. Pete knows him well enough right now that if he presses a hand into his hip and licks at the back of the neck, at the spot where his neck joins his shoulder, that Patrick will make a small squeaking noise and won’t do shit to stop him. And Wentz is just a bastard and has been gnawing at the same spot on Patrick’s collarbone, practically giggling at the look on Patrick’s face.
So Patrick just lets them do whatever the hell they want to because he knows the ends really do justify the means. Besides, it’s not like Patrick really has a choice at this point. No matter how weird it is having two Petes on either side of him, getting him off, and no matter how much he almost wants to call the whole thing off because it’s really starting to creep him the fuck out, they have complete control over him. They have complete control and, okay, so maybe Patrick is enjoying this at least a little bit.
Which is probably a good thing because neither Pete nor Wentz have any intention of pulling away anytime soon.
***
When William shows up in front of Butch’s door, there’s a moment of confusion.
“Aren’t you supposed to be upstate with the guys?”
William clearly would remember something like this.
Unless…
“You mean?”
“Duh.”
Fuck. William hightails it out of there because if his doppelganger goes anywhere near Mike, he’s going to seriously rip him to shreds.
Not to mention if this creature also tries to take over his life anymore he’s going to be seriously fucking pissed.
***
When William finally catches up with himself (as weird as that sounds), it’s at a club. William thinks that maybe if he had been a little more observant and had remembered that he was supposed to be performing here, he wouldn’t be in this situation. But there’s still the problem that he has a freaking lookalike in his spot, singing his songs, his words, and butchering his act.
Licking his…fans?
No, no, that’s not right at all. And that’s the last fucking straw. William struts out on stage. He struts and he shoves Beckett once before punching him square in the draw. Before he knows what’s happening, he’s punching and he’s punching and his band mates are trying to hold him back.
He’s punching and he’s punching and wow, that’s new, there are teeth on his lips and a hand between his legs. This guy doesn’t fight fair, but William doesn’t care because it’s hot, it’s hot, and it’s exactly what he needs. It curbs his anger quickly until it’s lust. It’s lust and he’s forgotten why he was pissed in the first place. Who cares if there was a lookalike traipsing around in his clothes? He’s got hands and tongue in all the right places and nothing else matters.
And when he wakes up the next day, alone, in his bed again, he has no idea what happened between the fight on stage and waking.
***
When Patrick wakes up and realizes that there’s only one Pete beside him, and that he’s still sleeping soundly, he can’t help but smile. It was really strange, having two Pete’s inside him. It was really strange seeing two Pete’s, yes, but feeling them? Being surrounded by Pete, Pete, Pete.
It’s a feeling he wouldn’t give up for the world.
He smiles and he smiles and he moves closer and wraps an arm around the boy. No matter what all of yesterday was about (he still doesn’t know why he randomly woke up without pants) he does know that it was worth it, just to wake up with an armful of Pete Wentz.
***
When William wakes up, he feels Mike first. It isn’t Mike he feels, but Mike’s presence. He rubs his eyes open and yawns obnoxiously wide as he starts to stretch before his attention darts over to the corner where a very angry, very seething Mike Carden is sitting.
“What the fuck?”
The events of the night previous run through his head again and again and he wonders what Mike is mad at. It wasn’t really like he was cheating on him. It just sort of happened. And it was sex with himself, so really, it was just like masturbation, right?
“Sorry, what?”
“You don’t get to say sorry. You cheated on me. First with girls and then with…with…yourself?”
William’s eyes widen considerably at the idea of cheating on Mike with girls.
“Okay, dude, dude. That wasn’t me with the girls. Did you not see what I was wearing?”
Mike has to nod, pursing his lips in a rather understanding expression.
“Okay, but still. Yourself. Explain that?”
“You’re trying to tell me if you had the chance to have sex. With yourself. You would pass that up?”
Mike blinks. He blinks again and again until finally his face softens as he sees William’s side.
“Okay, but dude. Next time you happen to have a double, will you come find me? I mean. You got to have all the fun and I got nothing!”
William smirks and shakes his head. He gestures Mike forward with his long, lithe finger, and Mike obeys like a kid listening to the pied piper.
“Guess we have a lot of catching up to do, huh?”
Mike sees what William’s getting at. He really sees what William’s getting at and he knows that it’s going to result in a sore ass the next morning, but really, when did that ever matter? He knows it’s gonna hurt like a bitch, but it’ll be oh so fucking worth it in the end.
“Guess we do.”
***
Meanwhile, Wentz and Beckett look at each other and start laughing. No one knows why they’re laughing, because no one’s even around to see them laugh. But they’re laughing like two of the three witches in Macbeth. Something wicked this way comes.
They’re still laughing as they walk stereotypically into the sunset on the other side of the mirror.
“So, did you have as much fun as I did?”
Beckett pushes his sunglasses down so that his eyes were narrowing above the rims.
“Fuck yes I did. Who knew fucking yourself could be so much fun?”
“Oh, and let’s not forget the boyfriend. But you were too hung up on your doppelganger to even touch him. Pity, he looked like a nice piece of ass.”
Beckett snorts at this and shoves Wentz aside.
“You’re so fucking weird.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, look who I share a mirror image with.”
Beckett has to admit; there really is no way he can argue with that. After all, Pete Wentz is not even close to normal.
Author:
clippedwingsRating: R (for implied sex and public groping)
Pairings: Patrick/Pete, double!Pete/Patrick, double!Pete/Peter, Mike/William, double!William/William, Butch Walker/Michael Guy Chislett (implied), Sisky/Butcher (implied). I think that's everyone.
Summary: Using the events of the video for "We've Got A Big Mess On Our Hands" by The Academy Is..., Pete indulges in narcissism, Patrick has a threesome, William gets really confused, Mike gets really jealous, and there are a couple of doubles. All in all, it's really just an average day.
Author's Notes: This fic ended up being a pretty big struggle. But I am so, so happy with how it came out. Thank you to my beta for giving me suggestions on how to get deeper into William's persona, thank you to Lesley for spazzing and keeping me going, and thanks to everyone else who kept me writing. You guys are amazing.
crossposted to
patrickxpeter, slutrick, theacademyslash, slashypunkboysWilliam looks at the mirror. He’s tired because, yeah, up ‘till three A.M. drinking with the boys was a really good idea right before the video shoot. He looks at the mirror and he brushes his teeth because he’s got good hygiene like that. And it doesn’t hurt if he wants to pick up any guys.
He looks at the mirror and he realizes that the mirror is smirking at him. No, no, the mirror isn’t smirking at him; it’s his reflection. His reflection is pulling out the toothbrush and fucking smirking at him. He looks confused at the mirror because he has this really killer hangover and he really needs to tell Carden not to keep him up so late anymore. He can’t tear his eyes from the mirror, even though there’s toothpaste dripping into the sink. He thinks he’s going to feel sick, his forehead feels hot, and he keeps in his breath.
This is like right out of fucking Peter Pan except he’s pretty sure that is fiction.
And then his reflection pulls back his arm and there’s a crash. There’s a crash and William’s falling to the floor.
“What the fuck?” he manages to say before he passes out.
***
Pete gets up out of bed. He distinctly remembers there being only one of him there last night. But when he looks back at the bed he can tell that’s not the case. There’s another version of him curled against the wall. The first thing he asks himself is,
“Did I drink anything last night?”
Instead of answering this, Patrick pipes up from the other room. Pete imagines that Patrick’s exclamation should be written in all caps.
“PETER WENTZ WHY THE HELL AM I NOT WEARING ANY CLOTHES?”
The figure that is still on the bed and looks an awful lot like Pete Wentz simply smirks, keeping his eyes closed tightly shut.
***
William finally pulls himself up when he realizes that the figure that has crawled out of the mirror has gotten dressed and is leaving. He wonders if he’s dreaming because this is an awful lot like The Ring, except he’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen a video in the last seven days. And if it were The Ring, there would be some creepy girl with long hair crawling out of his television.
So maybe instead, he resolves, he should lay off the booze more often.
But as he makes his way out of the door of his apartment, grabbing his cell phone on the way out, he realizes, holy shit, that figure looks a lot like him from the back side.
“Does my ass really look like that?” William thinks to himself, tilting his head to the side to get a better look.
He thinks for a moment about stalking closer and maybe doing a physical examination but with more thought he realizes that this is a very, very bad idea.
***
Pete has by now realized that this is wrong. This is so very wrong because there is not supposed to be a twin version of him walking around.
Pete is staring at the figure that is now sitting on his bed, staring back at him with a smug look on his face. Pete is staring and he’s staring and holy fuck, he should not be getting an erection right now.
“I take it you like what you see,” the figure says, the corner of his lips curving into a smirk.
Pete can’t help but grin at that and he tackles the figure immediately. It’s a little awkward at first, because let’s face it, Pete’s kissed boys, but this? Totally out of his league. He tries to uphold that above the waist rule, after all.
But this, as foreign as it is at first, is almost much too perfect. Their lips fit together like pieces of a puzzle, and their bodies interlock as legs tangle together and arms start groping at chests. It’s at this point that he really doesn’t know what name he should be moaning.
“What name should I moan?” Pete asks, breaking for air.
“Just call me Wentz. I’m your doppelganger.”
Doppelganger. The term rings a bell in Pete’s mind because goddamn did he watch a lot of Buffy. And just as quickly as Pete has realized what that means, that’s how fast it takes Pete to forget it. He forgets it because in times like these, you really can’t worry about the technical definition of “doppelganger.”
And that’s the last rational thought that passes Pete’s mind before he wraps his legs around Wentz’s waist and grinds.
***
Beckett grabs the apple and takes one big, taunting bite before tossing it away. William can barely see it, and he’s as confused as ever, but he continues to make his way out of his apartment to get a better look. Beckett pushes some yuppie to the ground and takes his wallet. William wonders why he would ever want to do a thing like that.
As William goes through the possibilities of why someone with such a resemblance to him would want to cause such harm, Beckett goes on the move again. William walks forward to try and get to the bottom of things. He hears the faint sirens of a police car, and then all of a sudden those people are pointing at him. Him! William Beckett! Why would anyone accuse him of committing a crime? He’s a fucking saint, everyone knows that! And maybe, he thinks, he should be focusing on the fact that his double committed said crime, but seriously. William Beckett does not do crime.
Better yet, who the hell called the cops?
William thinks that this is not the time to ask such questions and he slinks away into the darkness.
***
Patrick wakes up without any clothes on. He knows he’s a sound sleeper but really, sleeping through something that involves the removal of clothing? That’s just…odd.
The first thing he feels is fear. What if he was out so cold that someone…did something to him? He tries to think of who would do anything to him.
The next thing he feels is anger. Because he knows that a certain Pete Wentz is down the hall from him and this man, boy, whatever you want to call him, would probably sink to that level.
“Peter Wentz, why the hellam I not wearing any clothes?”
Patrick imagines that it wouldn’t be in all caps, but that hell definitely has to be stressed.
***
When Beckett walks into the recording studio, there is a general discord permeating through the air. The rest of his band looks at him strangely, though Beckett can’t think of any reason why this would be so.
Mike looks at Beckett especially strangely. Beckett is even sure there’s a glimpse of hurt on his face as Beckett wraps an arm almost protectively around one of the girls that he brings with him.
Chislett hasn’t been around long enough to realize that Beckett and girls don’t add up. Butcher and Siska look at each other and start laughing, shrill hyena-like laughs. Mike’s breath seems to be frozen and his heart refuses to keep beating. And Butch just doesn’t even know what to think anymore.
“Took you fucking long enough,” Butch scolds, a disapproving glare sent in William’s direction.
Beckett just blows Butch a kiss before walking his gaggle of girls to the nearby couch.
***
When Patrick walks in, he does not expect the sight splayed out in front of him. There are two Petes going at it, and they’re down to boxers. Which is strange because he was convinced that Pete went commando all the time. But that’s not the point. He’s in shock and his brain has sort of fizzled the moment he saw two half-naked Pete Wentzes on Pete’s bed.
“Since when do you have a twin?” Patrick asks, the look of confusion clear in his widened eyes and raised eyebrow.
Pete is so involved in the current makeout session that he almost doesn’t hear Patrick. But when he gets a glimpse of Patrick in only boxers, he simply grins and waves him over.
“Patrick, darling, come meet my doppelganger.”
Patrick isn’t quite sure why Pete’s calling the twin a doppelganger, but he shrugs and shuffles over to the bed. After all, two Petes are better than one.
***
Beckett’s flirting with girls. He’s flirting with girls and Mike really doesn’t like it. Later he will think back and wonder why it was the flirting with girls and not the injured hand that he was so worried about. But, he’ll end up rationalizing it with the fact that he even distinctly remembers the really amazing makeout session despite all the alcohol he drank the night before.
He’s still flirting and Mike knows that he really should calm down before he hurts someone. He really should calm down before he hurts Beckett.
“I’m out of here,” Mike mumbles as he starts to make his way out of the studio.
The rest of the band look at him just as confused as they did when Beckett walked through those doors.
Butch decides that he really, really needs to make Beckett get rid of those girls. Sisky decides that he and Butcher need a five-minute break. Chislett decides that he needs to follow Butch to make sure that he makes Beckett get rid of those girls. And to make sure that Butch doesn’t do anything stupid.
Butch decides that Beckett has seriously lost it because when was the last time that Beckett called him a “silly goose?”
***
Pete’s licking his earlobe. Pete’s licking and Wentz is nibbling and Patrick is pretty much in heaven right now. There really are subtle differences between the two of them and Patrick is not surprised he can pick them up.
Like, for instance, Pete seems to like swiping his tongue to smooth out the skin, while Wentz favors sucking and nibbling. Anything to produce a mark across Patrick’s flawless skin.
Though he really is grateful that both Pete and Wentz seem to really, really enjoy sandwiching him. There are hands up his shirt and down his pants. Patrick knows he’s never felt this good. And he knows he probably won’t feel this good ever again.
And now both versions are pulling his clothes off. As much as Patrick hates being completely naked while other people are still clothed, he seriously can’t move a muscle to stop them. Pete knows him well enough right now that if he presses a hand into his hip and licks at the back of the neck, at the spot where his neck joins his shoulder, that Patrick will make a small squeaking noise and won’t do shit to stop him. And Wentz is just a bastard and has been gnawing at the same spot on Patrick’s collarbone, practically giggling at the look on Patrick’s face.
So Patrick just lets them do whatever the hell they want to because he knows the ends really do justify the means. Besides, it’s not like Patrick really has a choice at this point. No matter how weird it is having two Petes on either side of him, getting him off, and no matter how much he almost wants to call the whole thing off because it’s really starting to creep him the fuck out, they have complete control over him. They have complete control and, okay, so maybe Patrick is enjoying this at least a little bit.
Which is probably a good thing because neither Pete nor Wentz have any intention of pulling away anytime soon.
***
When William shows up in front of Butch’s door, there’s a moment of confusion.
“Aren’t you supposed to be upstate with the guys?”
William clearly would remember something like this.
Unless…
“You mean?”
“Duh.”
Fuck. William hightails it out of there because if his doppelganger goes anywhere near Mike, he’s going to seriously rip him to shreds.
Not to mention if this creature also tries to take over his life anymore he’s going to be seriously fucking pissed.
***
When William finally catches up with himself (as weird as that sounds), it’s at a club. William thinks that maybe if he had been a little more observant and had remembered that he was supposed to be performing here, he wouldn’t be in this situation. But there’s still the problem that he has a freaking lookalike in his spot, singing his songs, his words, and butchering his act.
Licking his…fans?
No, no, that’s not right at all. And that’s the last fucking straw. William struts out on stage. He struts and he shoves Beckett once before punching him square in the draw. Before he knows what’s happening, he’s punching and he’s punching and his band mates are trying to hold him back.
He’s punching and he’s punching and wow, that’s new, there are teeth on his lips and a hand between his legs. This guy doesn’t fight fair, but William doesn’t care because it’s hot, it’s hot, and it’s exactly what he needs. It curbs his anger quickly until it’s lust. It’s lust and he’s forgotten why he was pissed in the first place. Who cares if there was a lookalike traipsing around in his clothes? He’s got hands and tongue in all the right places and nothing else matters.
And when he wakes up the next day, alone, in his bed again, he has no idea what happened between the fight on stage and waking.
***
When Patrick wakes up and realizes that there’s only one Pete beside him, and that he’s still sleeping soundly, he can’t help but smile. It was really strange, having two Pete’s inside him. It was really strange seeing two Pete’s, yes, but feeling them? Being surrounded by Pete, Pete, Pete.
It’s a feeling he wouldn’t give up for the world.
He smiles and he smiles and he moves closer and wraps an arm around the boy. No matter what all of yesterday was about (he still doesn’t know why he randomly woke up without pants) he does know that it was worth it, just to wake up with an armful of Pete Wentz.
***
When William wakes up, he feels Mike first. It isn’t Mike he feels, but Mike’s presence. He rubs his eyes open and yawns obnoxiously wide as he starts to stretch before his attention darts over to the corner where a very angry, very seething Mike Carden is sitting.
“What the fuck?”
The events of the night previous run through his head again and again and he wonders what Mike is mad at. It wasn’t really like he was cheating on him. It just sort of happened. And it was sex with himself, so really, it was just like masturbation, right?
“Sorry, what?”
“You don’t get to say sorry. You cheated on me. First with girls and then with…with…yourself?”
William’s eyes widen considerably at the idea of cheating on Mike with girls.
“Okay, dude, dude. That wasn’t me with the girls. Did you not see what I was wearing?”
Mike has to nod, pursing his lips in a rather understanding expression.
“Okay, but still. Yourself. Explain that?”
“You’re trying to tell me if you had the chance to have sex. With yourself. You would pass that up?”
Mike blinks. He blinks again and again until finally his face softens as he sees William’s side.
“Okay, but dude. Next time you happen to have a double, will you come find me? I mean. You got to have all the fun and I got nothing!”
William smirks and shakes his head. He gestures Mike forward with his long, lithe finger, and Mike obeys like a kid listening to the pied piper.
“Guess we have a lot of catching up to do, huh?”
Mike sees what William’s getting at. He really sees what William’s getting at and he knows that it’s going to result in a sore ass the next morning, but really, when did that ever matter? He knows it’s gonna hurt like a bitch, but it’ll be oh so fucking worth it in the end.
“Guess we do.”
***
Meanwhile, Wentz and Beckett look at each other and start laughing. No one knows why they’re laughing, because no one’s even around to see them laugh. But they’re laughing like two of the three witches in Macbeth. Something wicked this way comes.
They’re still laughing as they walk stereotypically into the sunset on the other side of the mirror.
“So, did you have as much fun as I did?”
Beckett pushes his sunglasses down so that his eyes were narrowing above the rims.
“Fuck yes I did. Who knew fucking yourself could be so much fun?”
“Oh, and let’s not forget the boyfriend. But you were too hung up on your doppelganger to even touch him. Pity, he looked like a nice piece of ass.”
Beckett snorts at this and shoves Wentz aside.
“You’re so fucking weird.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, look who I share a mirror image with.”
Beckett has to admit; there really is no way he can argue with that. After all, Pete Wentz is not even close to normal.