In Your Arms [3/4]

2006

Patrick is under Pete, his skin creamy white besides where Pete made his marks. Pete kisses Patrick for the umpteenth time, hands roaming. Patrick moans into the kiss. He grabs coffee skin using his right hand and traces the Bartskull tattoo with his left. Pete breaks from the kiss, and stares into the pools that are colored sea green. Patrick brings their mouths together again.

The two share a groan. When Pete enters him, he cries out “Pete! Pete! Pete!” before he comes. Pete would make it last longer, but Patrick’s muscles contracting around him is too much. Pete comes a few minutes later shouting Patrick’s name into the air. They fall asleep together, arms encircling each other.

---

“Pete?”

Pete opens his eyes to see a confused Patrick staring at him.

“Are you okay? You were moaning and groaning…and shouting my name.” Oh, shit. Patrick heard that? Pete bites his lip before nodding against the pillow.

“Y-yeah, ‘M fine. Just had a bad dream, that’s all.” But Patrick knows when Pete lying, and gives Pete a questionable look.

“Look, I-I’m fine Patrick -”

“I know you Pete, you’re lying,” Patrick says, inching his was closer to Pete. Pete inches back near the edge of the bunk in response. He’s really fucking hard, and if Patrick does his famous hug, Patrick will feel it, and that won’t be good.

“Pete, what’s the matter?” Patrick gives him that look, that look that makes him melt and almost lose control. Pete throws the covers off him and goes to run to a room where he can take care of his – ahem, “problem” – but Patrick grabs him by the arm and pulls. Pete’s face is only inches from Patrick. Patrick squeezes his arm.

“Pete, tell me what’s wrong,” Patrick says slowly, using a soft, deep tone of voice. The fact that he’s using that voice, and that look, is not helping his “problem” and the urge to kiss Patrick. He turns his head to look away from the temptation in front of him. Oh, those eyes and those lips, and God, he thought he couldn’t get harder but he does.

“Pete…?” Pete breaks away.

“I…uh, have to go to the bathroom!” And with that he runs to said room, leaving a confused Patrick sitting there.

After this night, Pete doesn’t speak to Patrick for three days, but still gets close to Patrick on stage, still gets hard looking at those eyes, wishing they were looking into his, and those lips, wishing they were around his cock. He corners a girl after every show and takes her into the bathroom.

Patrick ignores Pete’s unusual behavior. He’s Pete after all. He ignores the twang of jealously every time Pete drags a girl to the bathroom. Because really, Pete wouldn’t like him, Pete would never like him.

But hey, that doesn’t stop Patrick from thinking about it.

---

Today is a live performance in front of a small crowd. It’s acoustic, too; Pete has to be close to Patrick. Bob says there’s no way they can cancel, so Pete will just have to deal with it and find Annie (or is it Anna?) backstage again. Pete grips his bass tightly as Patrick practices his warm ups. If Patrick keeps singing like that Pete thinks there will have to be an intermission during their performance.

One Patrick’s done with his warm ups, he walks over and peaks out of the curtain. He sees a crowd, most of them young teenage girls as usual, some older women, and some teenage boys. He pulls back and searches for his guitar (he has a habit of walking around when he warms up and sometimes gets lost and/or forgets where things are). He finds it (in the hands of Joe, who knows Patrick’s habit) and begins tuning up. The shows start soon.

Pete can hear the crowd chant, “F-O-B! F-O-B!” loudly, and he breaths deeply. Right now he’s next to Patrick, so he takes the chance to apologize.

“Hey Patrick?” Patrick turns his head to him. “I’m sorry for a few nights ago, I could have been -”

“It’s alright,” Patrick says, cutting him off, “I don’t care. Probably thinking about some girl, right?”

“Um, yeah -” If only he knew… “- So, we’re cool?” Patrick nods and gives a barely detectable smile.

“We’re cool.” The announcer comes onstage.

“Please welcome, Fall Out Boy!” The crowd scream in response and Patrick and Pete rush onstage, Andy and Joe following behind them.

Patrick sits on the stool. He is the middle of a trio formed by Joe, Pete, and him. Andy of course is a foot away in the back. Patrick gives a quick glance at the audience again. In the front he can see a girl with her mom. She has a bag of some kind of candy in her hand. Patrick guesses she’s at least six or seven.

“Alright, our first song is called: This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race!” says Pete through the microphone, and Patrick starts singing.

They’re through the first three songs. One more song and they’re done. Patrick’s relieved, because it’s really hot in here, and he’s really sweating.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, our last song for tonight is The Take Over, The Break’s Over!” Patrick starts playing, and soon his voice joins with the instruments.

“Baby, seasons change but people don't, and I'll always be waiting in the back room. I'm boring but over compensate with headlines and flash, flash, flash photography.

“Don’t pretend you ever forgot about me. Don’t pretend you ever forgot about me...

“Wouldn't you rather be a widow than a divorcee? Style your wake for fashion magazines, oh. Widow or a divorcee? Don't pretend, D-d-don't pre -”

The rest comes out as chokes and gasps as something flies from the audience into Patrick’s throat. He tries to cough it out, but it’s stuck. He grabs at his throat instinctively, and looks at the audience. Fear and horror is plastered onto their faces. He looks at that girl.

The girl’s candy is Gummi Bears. And she’s trying to hide the bag.

Patrick falls out of his stool, onto the floor. He can hear people calling for Paramedics and his vision becomes blurry and oh crap, he’s gonna die. He’s gonna die because of a fucking Gummi Bear.

He can see Andy and Joe right next to him, but Patrick’s vision is getting even more blurred. His breathing is slowing to a stop. He can’t really think anymore. He’s gonna die. But right before he goes unconscious, someone grabs him by the back and gives him the Heimlich maneuver. Once, twice, three times, then;

Hack!

The offending Gummi Bear is spit out onto the floor of the stage. Patrick’s gasping for breath, enjoying the oxygen going to his lungs. Pete appears from behind him, gives him a hug, and whispers to him.

“Oh God, ‘Trick. I thought I lost you, like I did in the dream, so I just had to…” Pete trails off, starting to sob. Patrick cries along with him because damn, Pete saved him from the wrath of that Gummi Bear. Andy and Joe join in the hug. With applause, the four finish the song before getting off the stage.

Patrick will never think of Gummi Bears the same way again.