wip: fairy fairy quite contrary (fob)
Aug. 2nd, 2007 11:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mimesereHm. Fic that I will not finish because I know myself well enough to know it's just not going to happen. And because nine million other people have written this story and written it better. I do, however, reserve the right to steal from myself if I so choose.
Pete, Patrick, stories. 1700 words of lameness and cussing.
This is how it usually happens: Pete wakes up with Patrick leaning against him, mostly asleep, and absently fingering chords onto Pete's thigh. This close up, Patrick's face is mostly hidden under his hat, but Pete can see the line of his jaw and a small voice in his head says, "oh," very, very softly. And it's like that voice takes over, because Pete's nudged the brim of Patrick's hat out of the way and is leaning in closer before he realizes it.
He doesn't actually come back to his senses until after he's kissed the corner of Patrick's mouth and Patrick's blinking sleepily at him. Even then, it takes a second to remember that this isn't how the story goes.
*
This is how the story goes.
Once upon a time, there was a prince. Or a princess. Or a milkmaid or shepherd or a third son or some chick in a donkey skin with a creepy dad or some little dude. There's a person, is the point.
And the prince - princess milkmaid shepherd third son donkey skin wearing chick little dude -- goes on an awfully big adventure where they get a ton of money, some magical musical instrument, and give the finger to all the people who said he-she-it couldn't make it. Along the way he-she-it discovers his-her-its one true love and that's it, that's *it*, it's over, it's all happily ever afters in a castle on top of a hill the end.
*
This is how the story goes.
Once upon a time, there's a guy named Pete Wentz. And he's not a prince, really; he's an okay guy with some issues and what amounts to a vision of himself giving the finger to the entire world. He's a little funny looking and he kind of hates his hair and he's lucky in his friends but not really lucky in anything else.
Then he meets Joe and Joe changes everything.
Joe is his fairly odd-parent, shaking dresses out of trees and turning pumpkins into stagecoaches. He's got a stupid haircut and his wand is an okay guitar, nothing great, but he talks and Pete listens because when Joe says stuff, it's like magic.
Joe says, "I think we should start a band."
Joe says, "I met this guy."
Joe says, "Here's his address, I told him you'd go over tomorrow." When Pete raises his eyebrows, Joe rolls his eyes. "I've got a good feeling about this."
"Fuck you, Luke," is what Pete says back, but he takes the paper scribbled over with Joe's handwriting and shoves it in his pocket. All the luck that Pete invests in his friends, Joe has five times over and it takes him to places where he meets someone who knows someone who knows someone that maybe knows someone that might have something Joe wants. It's fucking uncanny.
So he goes and rings the doorbell and the door opens and Pete Wentz falls totally, stupidly, hopelessly in love.
It takes him maybe an hour to figure it out and in that time he insults Patrick's clothes, says fuck twenty-two times, and tells him that he's a good drummer, sure, but Pete knows approximately two dozen drummers who are as good or better and asks if Patrick can sing.
"No," says Patrick. He glares at Pete, his arms folded across his chest and the tips of his ears turning red. Pete's kind of glad he's out of kicking range even if Patrick still sounds polite. "I don't sing."
"Everyone can sing," Pete says. "Some people better than others."
"And I'm sure you know two dozen people who would be as good or better than I am at it, so maybe you should go talk to them."
"Dude, I said I was sorry about the two dozen thing, can you let that go already?"
"No."
"Joe didn't say you were kind of a pissy bitch."
Patrick smiles at Pete like he's imagining kicking Pete in the balls. "Joe didn't say you were--" He stops suddenly and bites his lip. "Joe didn't mention singing."
"Oh come on," says Pete. "That's totally not what you were going to say."
"It was."
"It was *not*."
"It *was*."
"A dick? An asshole? You have to tell me now." Pete grins up at Patrick. "I promise I won't tell anyone else that you say dirty words."
Patrick shoves his glasses up onto his forehead and rubs his eyes. "If I sing, will you go away?"
"Sure," says Pete. "You'll never see me again."
Patrick snorts and Pete can read annoyance in the way he grabs the acoustic guitar next to Pete and in the way he sort of flings himself onto the ground and in the way he says, "Do you have a request?" like what he's hoping is that Pete will fall over and die.
"Whatever," says Pete. "I'm easy."
"Yeah," says Patrick, settling the guitar across his lap carefully. "I've heard that."
Pete's already trying to think of how he's going to tell Joe that Patrick didn't really work out, even though he can see why Joe thought he would, and he's come up with a pretty good line that completely doesn't mention how the first thing Pete did was laugh at the guy when Patrick starts singing. It's not great -- Patrick's voice is kind of tight and he forgets the words about halfway through -- but it makes Pete sit up and glare at Patrick.
Patrick glares right back and comes back strong on the chorus, his hand sliding down the neck of the guitar to do something with fuck, Pete doesn't know, some fucking chord thing and Pete has to stop him because otherwise he thinks he might punch the kid and that would probably get him arrested. Patrick looks like a guy who'd press charges.
He reaches over and presses his hand against Patrick's, pushing hard against the strings. "What the *fuck*," says Pete. He's just. "Why the fuck are you playing drums?"
"Because I like them, asshole," Patrick snaps.
And that's it. That's *it*. It's all over.
"Fuck," says Pete. "I think I'm in love with you."
Patrick slaps at Pete's hand until Pete backs off. "If you touch me, I will call the cops *so fast*."
It takes Pete another hour to convince Patrick that he's not going to touch him inappropriately -- what he says is, "I'm not going to molest you, " and Patrick says, "You're still touching me, dick, go stand by that wall," and Pete says, "You've got a great mouth," and Patrick says, "Do you think I'm joking about calling the cops? Because I'm really not," and Pete says, "Okay, it's only a few years, I can wait," and Patrick stares at him for a long, long moment and then he laughs -- and by the time he does, they've gotten into two fights about music, Patrick's kicked Pete in the shins, and Pete's kissed him.
"Gonna call the cops?" Pete asks.
Patrick punches him in the stomach and shoves him off. Pete can't stop laughing.
He's in love and it's the best thing ever.
*
Maybe the weirdest thing about the whole…love thing is when Pete realizes, somewhere in Ohio, that Patrick is *it*. He is the end of Pete's line.
He meets Jeanae three weeks later.
*
The story goes like this: Once upon a time (a long long time ago), there was a far off kingdom (in a galaxy far, far away), and in that kingdom was a prince (princess senator rebel leader smuggler farmboy) and however it happens, the prince(ss) senator rebel leader smuggler farmboy meets their one and only and lives happily ever after.
The prince says, "Wait, that's it? Forever and ever? That's *it*?"
Joe says, "Yeah, pretty much. I mean, it's Star Wars." Joe lies on Pete's bed, his feet propped up against the wall, and fucks around with an old Transformer of Pete's.
"But no, seriously," says Pete. "That's it? Where's the fighting?"
Joe snorts. "They fight all the time!"
Pete smacks Joe in the middle of his forehead. "That's not fighting, that's flirting."
"That one dude didn't think so," says Joe. "You know, that guy? He wrote that book where Luke and Leia hooked it up. Totally Flowers in the Millennium Attic."
"Joe, I love you, but I fear you sometimes."
"Fear is the mindkiller," Joe says serenely.
Pete doesn't even think before he answers. "Fear is the little death."
"Little death," says Joe thoughtfully. "I thought that was orgasms." He sounds supremely unconcerned about fear and orgasms both, which kind of pisses Pete off, because fuck, Joe's sixteen. Fear and orgasms should be at the top of his list of things to be concerned about.
Pete's pretty sure they were at the top of his when he was sixteen. They're pretty much at the top of his list now. "But no, like, what? It's all sunshine and roses after Leia wakes him up with true love's first kiss?"
"No?" Joe turns over on the bed so he's lying on his stomach. Joe is surprisingly good at disappointed parent looks when he wants to be. "Was there kissing? Because mostly I remember her waking him up with true love's first carbonite thawing. Then there's all this shit about a planet and some witches and like, fuck, some other dude. Han gets totally jealous and acts like a dick." He frowns at Pete and Pete wants to lean over, to smooth away the lines between Joe's eyebrows because Joe is made for smiling. "Not that he should have, you know, I mean. Being a jealous dick is not the right way to win the love of a rebel princess."
"I'm not Han," says Pete.
"Really, really not," Joe says back. "Just. Don't, Pete."
This is what his life has come to: Pete Wentz is taking love advice from Joe and George Lucas.
In my head, near the end which is set now-ish, Pete watches Patrick start to move on and he totally cockblocks -- um, Pete cockblocking is pretty much a theme I like to revisit a lot -- and freaks out at Patrick who is like, OMGWTF. This is where we pick up, all dialogue 'cause I suck at prose.
Patrick: "Wait, no, no, I thought we weren't doing this. Where the fuck do you get off?"
Pete: "I thought -- what do you mean you thought we weren't doing this? I love you, asshole."
Patrick: "I KNOW THAT."
Pete: "And you love me!"
Patrick: "I know that too! But you were all--I thought we weren't doing this!"
Pete: "I thought you were waiting for me!"
Patrick: *punches Pete in the face*
Pete: "What the fuck?"
Patrick: "You thought I was waiting for you? Fuck you *so much*. I am not that guy, Pete. I'm *not*."
And that's...Pete knows that Patrick's not that guy. Patrick isn't going to sleep forever or wait for his prince to come and he's not something out of a story, all patience and castles and staring out of windows longingly. "I know," says Pete finally. "I just. I thought I was different."
Patrick sounds totally, completely calm when he says. "Fuck you, Pete," and walks out. Pete's expecting the door to slam, but it closes quietly behind Patrick and Pete is left with the feeling that he is the dumbest person alive.
Joe whistles softly, this low, amazed sound that makes Pete hunch his shoulders. He'd totally forgotten Joe was there. "You okay?" asks Joe.
"No," Pete says.
Joe leans forward and curls his fingers into the hem of Pete's shirt, tugging him closer. "Will you be okay?"
"How badly did I fuck up there, do you think?"
"Pretty bad," says Joe. "It'll be fine."
"What if I don't want it to be fine?"
"Then me and Andy will kill you."
Joe pulls Patrick aside and says, all friendly-like, that he loves Patrick a lot but if he breaks Pete's heart, Joe will not be held responsible for what he does. He has to live with Pete, okay, and he does not want to live with heartbroken songwriting Pete because that Pete sits around in a black hoodie and mopes or says horrible things about people and doesn't want to play video games and that is just...no. Okay?
Andy pulls Pete aside and tells him that if Pete fucks with Patrick, Andy will kill him slowly and painfully and creatively because he does not want to deal with a more music obsessed and focused Patrick and also because a Patrick in the middle of heartbreak is a Patrick who does annoying things like steal Andy's comic books and try to read them and fail and leave them lying around while he composes a score for Doom Patrol that sounds like Danny Elfman on a bender.
Pete and Patrick do not break each other's hearts anymore and they live happily ever after.
...andthentheydonesextheend.
Pete, Patrick, stories. 1700 words of lameness and cussing.
This is how it usually happens: Pete wakes up with Patrick leaning against him, mostly asleep, and absently fingering chords onto Pete's thigh. This close up, Patrick's face is mostly hidden under his hat, but Pete can see the line of his jaw and a small voice in his head says, "oh," very, very softly. And it's like that voice takes over, because Pete's nudged the brim of Patrick's hat out of the way and is leaning in closer before he realizes it.
He doesn't actually come back to his senses until after he's kissed the corner of Patrick's mouth and Patrick's blinking sleepily at him. Even then, it takes a second to remember that this isn't how the story goes.
*
This is how the story goes.
Once upon a time, there was a prince. Or a princess. Or a milkmaid or shepherd or a third son or some chick in a donkey skin with a creepy dad or some little dude. There's a person, is the point.
And the prince - princess milkmaid shepherd third son donkey skin wearing chick little dude -- goes on an awfully big adventure where they get a ton of money, some magical musical instrument, and give the finger to all the people who said he-she-it couldn't make it. Along the way he-she-it discovers his-her-its one true love and that's it, that's *it*, it's over, it's all happily ever afters in a castle on top of a hill the end.
*
This is how the story goes.
Once upon a time, there's a guy named Pete Wentz. And he's not a prince, really; he's an okay guy with some issues and what amounts to a vision of himself giving the finger to the entire world. He's a little funny looking and he kind of hates his hair and he's lucky in his friends but not really lucky in anything else.
Then he meets Joe and Joe changes everything.
Joe is his fairly odd-parent, shaking dresses out of trees and turning pumpkins into stagecoaches. He's got a stupid haircut and his wand is an okay guitar, nothing great, but he talks and Pete listens because when Joe says stuff, it's like magic.
Joe says, "I think we should start a band."
Joe says, "I met this guy."
Joe says, "Here's his address, I told him you'd go over tomorrow." When Pete raises his eyebrows, Joe rolls his eyes. "I've got a good feeling about this."
"Fuck you, Luke," is what Pete says back, but he takes the paper scribbled over with Joe's handwriting and shoves it in his pocket. All the luck that Pete invests in his friends, Joe has five times over and it takes him to places where he meets someone who knows someone who knows someone that maybe knows someone that might have something Joe wants. It's fucking uncanny.
So he goes and rings the doorbell and the door opens and Pete Wentz falls totally, stupidly, hopelessly in love.
It takes him maybe an hour to figure it out and in that time he insults Patrick's clothes, says fuck twenty-two times, and tells him that he's a good drummer, sure, but Pete knows approximately two dozen drummers who are as good or better and asks if Patrick can sing.
"No," says Patrick. He glares at Pete, his arms folded across his chest and the tips of his ears turning red. Pete's kind of glad he's out of kicking range even if Patrick still sounds polite. "I don't sing."
"Everyone can sing," Pete says. "Some people better than others."
"And I'm sure you know two dozen people who would be as good or better than I am at it, so maybe you should go talk to them."
"Dude, I said I was sorry about the two dozen thing, can you let that go already?"
"No."
"Joe didn't say you were kind of a pissy bitch."
Patrick smiles at Pete like he's imagining kicking Pete in the balls. "Joe didn't say you were--" He stops suddenly and bites his lip. "Joe didn't mention singing."
"Oh come on," says Pete. "That's totally not what you were going to say."
"It was."
"It was *not*."
"It *was*."
"A dick? An asshole? You have to tell me now." Pete grins up at Patrick. "I promise I won't tell anyone else that you say dirty words."
Patrick shoves his glasses up onto his forehead and rubs his eyes. "If I sing, will you go away?"
"Sure," says Pete. "You'll never see me again."
Patrick snorts and Pete can read annoyance in the way he grabs the acoustic guitar next to Pete and in the way he sort of flings himself onto the ground and in the way he says, "Do you have a request?" like what he's hoping is that Pete will fall over and die.
"Whatever," says Pete. "I'm easy."
"Yeah," says Patrick, settling the guitar across his lap carefully. "I've heard that."
Pete's already trying to think of how he's going to tell Joe that Patrick didn't really work out, even though he can see why Joe thought he would, and he's come up with a pretty good line that completely doesn't mention how the first thing Pete did was laugh at the guy when Patrick starts singing. It's not great -- Patrick's voice is kind of tight and he forgets the words about halfway through -- but it makes Pete sit up and glare at Patrick.
Patrick glares right back and comes back strong on the chorus, his hand sliding down the neck of the guitar to do something with fuck, Pete doesn't know, some fucking chord thing and Pete has to stop him because otherwise he thinks he might punch the kid and that would probably get him arrested. Patrick looks like a guy who'd press charges.
He reaches over and presses his hand against Patrick's, pushing hard against the strings. "What the *fuck*," says Pete. He's just. "Why the fuck are you playing drums?"
"Because I like them, asshole," Patrick snaps.
And that's it. That's *it*. It's all over.
"Fuck," says Pete. "I think I'm in love with you."
Patrick slaps at Pete's hand until Pete backs off. "If you touch me, I will call the cops *so fast*."
It takes Pete another hour to convince Patrick that he's not going to touch him inappropriately -- what he says is, "I'm not going to molest you, " and Patrick says, "You're still touching me, dick, go stand by that wall," and Pete says, "You've got a great mouth," and Patrick says, "Do you think I'm joking about calling the cops? Because I'm really not," and Pete says, "Okay, it's only a few years, I can wait," and Patrick stares at him for a long, long moment and then he laughs -- and by the time he does, they've gotten into two fights about music, Patrick's kicked Pete in the shins, and Pete's kissed him.
"Gonna call the cops?" Pete asks.
Patrick punches him in the stomach and shoves him off. Pete can't stop laughing.
He's in love and it's the best thing ever.
*
Maybe the weirdest thing about the whole…love thing is when Pete realizes, somewhere in Ohio, that Patrick is *it*. He is the end of Pete's line.
He meets Jeanae three weeks later.
*
The story goes like this: Once upon a time (a long long time ago), there was a far off kingdom (in a galaxy far, far away), and in that kingdom was a prince (princess senator rebel leader smuggler farmboy) and however it happens, the prince(ss) senator rebel leader smuggler farmboy meets their one and only and lives happily ever after.
The prince says, "Wait, that's it? Forever and ever? That's *it*?"
Joe says, "Yeah, pretty much. I mean, it's Star Wars." Joe lies on Pete's bed, his feet propped up against the wall, and fucks around with an old Transformer of Pete's.
"But no, seriously," says Pete. "That's it? Where's the fighting?"
Joe snorts. "They fight all the time!"
Pete smacks Joe in the middle of his forehead. "That's not fighting, that's flirting."
"That one dude didn't think so," says Joe. "You know, that guy? He wrote that book where Luke and Leia hooked it up. Totally Flowers in the Millennium Attic."
"Joe, I love you, but I fear you sometimes."
"Fear is the mindkiller," Joe says serenely.
Pete doesn't even think before he answers. "Fear is the little death."
"Little death," says Joe thoughtfully. "I thought that was orgasms." He sounds supremely unconcerned about fear and orgasms both, which kind of pisses Pete off, because fuck, Joe's sixteen. Fear and orgasms should be at the top of his list of things to be concerned about.
Pete's pretty sure they were at the top of his when he was sixteen. They're pretty much at the top of his list now. "But no, like, what? It's all sunshine and roses after Leia wakes him up with true love's first kiss?"
"No?" Joe turns over on the bed so he's lying on his stomach. Joe is surprisingly good at disappointed parent looks when he wants to be. "Was there kissing? Because mostly I remember her waking him up with true love's first carbonite thawing. Then there's all this shit about a planet and some witches and like, fuck, some other dude. Han gets totally jealous and acts like a dick." He frowns at Pete and Pete wants to lean over, to smooth away the lines between Joe's eyebrows because Joe is made for smiling. "Not that he should have, you know, I mean. Being a jealous dick is not the right way to win the love of a rebel princess."
"I'm not Han," says Pete.
"Really, really not," Joe says back. "Just. Don't, Pete."
This is what his life has come to: Pete Wentz is taking love advice from Joe and George Lucas.
In my head, near the end which is set now-ish, Pete watches Patrick start to move on and he totally cockblocks -- um, Pete cockblocking is pretty much a theme I like to revisit a lot -- and freaks out at Patrick who is like, OMGWTF. This is where we pick up, all dialogue 'cause I suck at prose.
Patrick: "Wait, no, no, I thought we weren't doing this. Where the fuck do you get off?"
Pete: "I thought -- what do you mean you thought we weren't doing this? I love you, asshole."
Patrick: "I KNOW THAT."
Pete: "And you love me!"
Patrick: "I know that too! But you were all--I thought we weren't doing this!"
Pete: "I thought you were waiting for me!"
Patrick: *punches Pete in the face*
Pete: "What the fuck?"
Patrick: "You thought I was waiting for you? Fuck you *so much*. I am not that guy, Pete. I'm *not*."
And that's...Pete knows that Patrick's not that guy. Patrick isn't going to sleep forever or wait for his prince to come and he's not something out of a story, all patience and castles and staring out of windows longingly. "I know," says Pete finally. "I just. I thought I was different."
Patrick sounds totally, completely calm when he says. "Fuck you, Pete," and walks out. Pete's expecting the door to slam, but it closes quietly behind Patrick and Pete is left with the feeling that he is the dumbest person alive.
Joe whistles softly, this low, amazed sound that makes Pete hunch his shoulders. He'd totally forgotten Joe was there. "You okay?" asks Joe.
"No," Pete says.
Joe leans forward and curls his fingers into the hem of Pete's shirt, tugging him closer. "Will you be okay?"
"How badly did I fuck up there, do you think?"
"Pretty bad," says Joe. "It'll be fine."
"What if I don't want it to be fine?"
"Then me and Andy will kill you."
Joe pulls Patrick aside and says, all friendly-like, that he loves Patrick a lot but if he breaks Pete's heart, Joe will not be held responsible for what he does. He has to live with Pete, okay, and he does not want to live with heartbroken songwriting Pete because that Pete sits around in a black hoodie and mopes or says horrible things about people and doesn't want to play video games and that is just...no. Okay?
Andy pulls Pete aside and tells him that if Pete fucks with Patrick, Andy will kill him slowly and painfully and creatively because he does not want to deal with a more music obsessed and focused Patrick and also because a Patrick in the middle of heartbreak is a Patrick who does annoying things like steal Andy's comic books and try to read them and fail and leave them lying around while he composes a score for Doom Patrol that sounds like Danny Elfman on a bender.
Pete and Patrick do not break each other's hearts anymore and they live happily ever after.
...andthentheydonesextheend.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-03 07:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-04 02:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-03 09:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-04 02:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-03 08:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-04 02:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-03 09:01 pm (UTC)He meets Jeanae three weeks later.
Will anything ever be a better summary of Pete Wentz than these three lines? No, probably not. But one must soldier on.
I hope you decide to finish it, or to steal from yourself with a vengence. Or to write something entirely different! Whichever works!
Also, I feel it might be rude for me to say this, since we don't really know each other, but I'm bad at impulse control and also kind of have to, so: suck at prose, LJ's collective ass.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-04 02:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-04 07:39 pm (UTC)