Title: The Best Yet
Author: Cherry Vanilla
Pairing: Mikey Way/Pete Wentz (Fall Out Boy)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: “Hold on you haven’t heard the best yet.”
Title, Summary and Lyrics by The Academy Is..
Can be considered in the universe of my Bert/Gerard ‘Kill/Smile, but only for the portrayal of that relationship.
* * * * *
“I’m not the type to forget about nights like this”
* * * **
Pete begins using the website journal as an *actual* ‘lock and key don’t read my private thoughts’ journal. He knows it’s stupid, but perhaps that’s why he’s compelled to do it. He structures his sentences vaguely, with just enough veiled subtext for anyone not paying attention to miss. It isn’t by chance that he places the words ‘totally in love again’ two lines away from the mention of Mikey. Mikey. Pete’s never met anyone like him. He’s an enigma, a wallflower, hovering in the background. He lets his brother and Frank take all the attention. He has girls screaming for him, yet he barely bats an eyelid, completely unfazed. Sometimes Pete wonders if he’s constantly sedated. He’s certainly is in a state of mediation when on stage. Pete has watched with interest, enthralled by the vast differences in their stage personas. For Mikey, it’s a calming experience, for Pete uncontrollable chaotic euphoria.
He’s fascinated by Mikey, loves the way he’ll laugh at his jokes as if they’re the best he’s ever heard. If he were being honest with himself, he loves making Mikey laugh, loves the way his smile curves beneath his teeth as if carefully guarded. He doesn’t know how it happened, how he and Mikey got to be so close, so fast. He’s hung out a few times with the other guys from MCR but not as often. When he watches their set, it’s mostly for Mikey. He doesn’t know why Mikey watches his.
They decided to visit a water park on their day off and Pete told himself he wasn’t studying the pale skin of Mikey’s stomach, wasn’t looking at the faint trail of hair, wishing he could trace it downward with his hand, and then his mouth. He’s positive Gerard has caught on. Pete’s sure Gerard thinks he’s cool, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’d want him fucking his brother. He sort of wishes he *could* talk to Gerard, since he has no idea if Mikey even likes guys. Patrick and Andy never shut up with the innuendos so Pete is 99.9% sure Mikey doesn’t question which way he swings.
After the water park, he and Mikey gravitated toward one another. Pete suggested watching the sunset, hoping Mikey wouldn’t find that cheesy or ‘gay.’ Mikey just smiled, sucking on the straw from his McDonalds coke and nodded. He looked all of 12 and Pete felt like the world’s biggest perv for wanting to taste those syrupy sweet lips.
The sunset was perfect, lying on a patch of grass, bodies so close. They talked of their childhoods, families, this crazy whirlwind tour they’re on. Mikey mentioned an ex-girlfriend at one point, and Pete’s heart sank. Then, a millisecond later, his hand curved into Pete’s, fingers small and unsure, like an infants.
“You really get me, it seems,” he said quietly. Pete’s heart swelled and he wanted to push him on his back, kiss him everywhere. Instead, he squeezed back and fell in love.
* * * *
One of Pete’s favorite shirts is his ‘I heart Revenge’ one. He bought it after he began listening to Three Cheers non-stop. Now, it is The Mikey Shirt, caps and all. He looks over to where Mikey is watching and smiles, grabs the mic, and says, “This next one is about revenge. Right, Mikey? Revenge!” Mikey smiles softly and nods. He plays the rest of the song with a huge smile on his face. During Grand Theft, he notices Mikey mouthing the lyrics and his stomach flips. Thousands of kids are doing the same thing that very second, but for some reason Mikey makes it different. Especially when the words ‘I could be him’ pass his lips. He wants them directed at him. Wants Mikey to be ‘him.’
The next day during soundcheck Pete’s in a pissy mood, letting everything get to him and sad for Joe he hardly notices when Mikey sneaks up and touches his shoulder. He’s sweating a little, hair sticking to his forehead, drops of perspiration on the rims of his glasses. Pete’s sure he doesn’t look any better.
“Um, here,” Mikey says, as quietly as always, shoving something rectangular into his hand. “Have a good show,” he nods to Pete, Ray, and walks off. Pete watches him go, loving the way his ass moves behind the tight jeans, then looks at the object in his hand. A mix tape. An actual old school mix tape. Pete looks at the track listing and the carefully etched random lyrics that decorate the front and back covers. It’s a blend of 80’s punk/new wave, heavy on The Smiths and Morrissey. It’s the best thing Pete’s ever received.
“He made you a mix?”
“Huh?” He responds absently, looking up to find Ray watching him curiously. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“Nothing, just,” Ray fiddles with his guitar strings and sighs. “I shouldn’t, but. Well, that means he really likes you. That’s his, like. Thing. Way of telling people he likes them.”
Pete frowns, irrationally angry that he wasn’t unique, that other people, *girls* probably, have been privy to Mikey’s mixes. Then he processes what Ray is actually saying. Mikey *likes* him, which means he likes dick, or maybe just Pete’s dick, but still.
He runs his thumb over the cassette and smiles.
* * * *
After the show, he goes behind the stage and finds Mikey with Gerard.
“Sure you know what you’re doing?” Gerard is saying.
“Yes, Gee, Jesus, I’m not a baby.”
“Yet you always have bed-head,” he grins, ruffling Mikey’s hair.
“Shut up,” Mikey whines.
“If you’re sure,” Gerard says.
“Sure,” Mikey mumbles.
Pete steps forward. “Hey.”
Mikey nearly jumps out of his skin.
Gerard laughs. “Hey, man.”
Mikey must give him a look because Gerard kicks his shin and says, “Alright, I’m leaving. Maybe I’ll go call *Bert*.”
“Asshole!” Mikey yells after him.
“Uh, what was all that about?” He plays dumb, even though he knows. Now that Ray told him, it’s easier to spot everything.
“Uh, nothing. Great set.”
“Yeah, you too. Thanks for that mix. I listened a little before.”
“Sure,” Mikey ducks his head and Pete sees a rising blush on his cheeks.
“You wanna ride on our bus tonight?” He says in a rush. There it is and there’s no taking it back.
Mikey’s head shoots up like a canon. “Um, yeah. Yeah.”
Pete looks around. The bands are packing up, fans watching by the gate. Fuck. He pulls Mikey around to the side of the stage, behind a large speaker. Mikey follows willingly and trips into Pete when he comes to a sharp stop.
Pete laughs against his cheek. “Clutz.”
Mikey pulls back a little and Pete cups the back of his neck, fingers brushing the damp strands. Mikey’s eyelids flutter behind his glasses. Pete takes a long breath, hopes they aren’t making a huge mistake, and leans in. Mikey’s lips are soft and thin, and they stay pressed together for long seconds until Pete licks between them, their tongues meeting, slippery and wet, teasing and chasing. They kiss searchingly for long minutes, straining against one another, learning shapes and curves until Pete pulls back. He notices Mikey is muttering the humming section of ‘Melt
With You’ and he laughs, joining in, their foreheads resting together, nothing but the sound of breathing and soft ‘mmm-mm-mm-mm’s’ filling the air.
“Oh my god, we’re ridiculous,” Pete grins.
Mikey’s thumb traces his bottom lip. “Yeah.”
They kiss once more and walk towards the buses, hands clasping briefly during various parts of their journey. Gerard comes into view, standing near the bus, talking on his cell. When he sees their hands, he laughs into the phone.
“Hey, Bert, guess what? My little bro has a boyfriend.”
There’s silence for a beat while Gerard listens. “Bert says you’re stealing our thunder!”
Mikey flips him off and turns to Pete. “Let me get a few things?”
“Sure.”
There’s awkward silence that consists of Pete shuffling his feet and Gerard looking at him quizzically. “Don’t fucking hurt him.”
Before Pete can say anything, Gerard continues into the phone. “Fuck you, asshole, I can so be intimidating!” Another pause. “That’s it, I’m withholding phone sex,” he says loudly and stomps off onto the bus. Pete shakes his head and smiles, bemused.
He leans against the bus, lets his mind wander to tonight, already equating it with perfection.
He knows he’ll idealize it in his head, put Mikey and everything regarding them both on a pedestal. He knows he’ll toss the word ‘love’ around in his head and his journal and let it consume him. He’ll be too trusting, too vulnerable. He’ll slip his hand down the front of Mikey’s pants, grasp him hard and sure, and watch his face as he comes. He’ll kiss his lips, make him smile and shake. And in the morning, he’ll want to do it all over again.
[end]