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Someone wrote in
2009-10-26 02:29 pm (UTC)
"Hey, have you seen Pete?" Patrick asks Joe, and he has
asking basically everyone on the tour today.
Joe shrugs. "Nope, sorry dude."
"Huh," Patrick says, "It's just that no one's seen him
." He frowns.
"Was there something you wanted him for?"
"No, I just. I don't know," Patrick says uncertainly. He'd actually just wanted to try doing some writing today, it's been a while since him and Pete had really gotten a chance to.
"Sorry man," Joe says apologetically. "I guess if he fucked off earlier then he could be back on our bus? You could go check, if you want."
"Yeah," Patrick says, nodding, "yeah, I'll do that, thanks."
Joe smiles. "No pro--"
"OH MY GOD, WHAT THE FUCK, OH MY GOD WHO SET MY PANTS ON FIRE!?" They hear Dirty scream. Patrick is no longer alarmed by these kinds of things. Joe looks passed him with an amused look on his face, looking more awake than he has all day.
"Oh man, I gotta see this," Joe says and runs to where Dirty's still yelling and the others are all laughing.
"To the bus, then," Patrick says to himself, and starts making his way to Joe and Pete's bus.
"AAHH OH MY GOD THERE'S STILL FIRE ON MY UNDERWEAR, GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"
Patrick doesn't turn around, but the corners of his lips are twitching up a bit.
"Pete?" Patrick calls, walking through the narrow bunk area. He heads straight to Pete's bunk and peaks his head in. "Pete?"
Patrick feels a hand grabs his ass and he jumps, banging his head and swearing, "Fuck
it's Pete. Patrick starts turning around. "Fucking asshole, stop groping me, I am going to--"
Patrick stops and blinks. Because there's no Pete.
"...Pete?" Patrick says slowly, eyes darting around. He turns to another bunk, pulls the curtain back. Nothing.
Hands grope his ass again, he jumps, turns around swinging. "Fucki--"
Again, no one. Patrick's eyes widen. "
Patrick hears but doesn't see Pete (definitely Pete) say, "'Sup stud?"
Patrick suddenly feels a body press against him, a chest against his, hips, knees, hands clutching at his shoulders, lips sliding wetly against his jaw, a nose pressed into his cheek. He stops breathing, because he can feel
He just can't see it.
"I, shit what... Pete?" Patrick asks breathlessly, trying to understand, to
what the fuck is going on right now.
He feels a mouth move over his, breathing hot and wet against his lips - and it's blowing his mind that he just can't
it - and then whisper, "So nice to see you, Rickster."
Patrick swallows, unconsciously peeking his tongue out to lick his lips, and then gasps when it flicks against someone else's - no, Pete's, definitely Pete's. The way he smells, his voice, yeah, it's definitely Pete.
"Well, Can't really say the same," Patrick says shakily. Pete laughs.
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