stop trying to explode my head...

Fri, 29 Jun 2007 02:30:52 GMT

Title: Once Bitten
Author: Katie
Rating: PG
Pairing: Patrick Stumph/Gerard Way (also slight Patrick/Peter Wentz)
POV: Third Person
Disclaimer: Fiction. Never happened and I don't own them except in my fantasy land.
Dedication: For mikeyface and her birthday! :)

Number One Worst Wake-Up Call Ever:

“PATRICK! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”

The shouting drags a very unwilling Patrick Stumph from the cozy comforts of sleep into the cold harsh shackles of reality and consciousness. The flashing red numbers on the alarm clock beside him say that it’s somewhere around 3:30 in the morning.

“PATRICK, I’M NOT KIDDING! OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR! NOW!” In his post-sleep haze, it takes Patrick a moment to register the words and another to act on them. He reluctantly rolls out of insanely luxurious bed and shuffles to the door, yawning and cursing Pete’s name under his breath. The very second the door is unlocked, Pete thrusts it open with a bang and is in the room like a shot.

“You’d better have a good reason for this,” Patrick tries his best to glare and look intimidating but only succeeds in looking like someone who had just woken up less than a minute ago. Pete’s eyes are wide and wild. It’s like looking at a caged animal. He’s out of breath, as if something or someone had been furiously chasing him.

“NO TIME TO EXPLAIN,” He pants leaning against the door and then suddenly pushing away from it. “Short version: Gerard is coming to kick my ass. Stall him! Get him out of here!” He literally dives beneath the bed rather ungracefully. Patrick is about to let loose the fountain of questions his mind has developed at Pete’s explanation, but he’s cut off by a curt knock at the door.

“Patrick. Open up,” Gerard’s voice is calm yet menacing. A chill runs down Patrick’s spine as he opens the door and mentally scrambles to think of any possible way one might divert his attention away from his apparent mission to kill Pete.

“Oh hey Gerard. It’s awful fucking early, man. What’d you need?” Plan A: play dumb.

“I know he’s in here. Where the hell is that motherfucker?” Plan A: FAILED. Gerard’s teeth are clenched together just like his fists. Patrick resists the urge to ask Gerard if maybe the term “brotherfucker” would be a more appropriate name given Pete’s relationship with the younger Way boy.

“He’s not here,” Plan B: lie.

“I know he’s fucking here, Patrick. I heard him yelling at you to open the door,” Plan B: FAILED. Damn Pete and his loud mouth.

“Why do you want him? What did he do?” Plan C: Redirect.

“I warned the fucker if he hurt Mikey, I would hurt him. I’m only asking you one more time, Patrick. Where is he?” Plan C: FAILED.

“Uhm,” Patrick is out of plans and is about to settle for merely begging Gerard to think of the band and not beat Pete so badly that he couldn’t play bass anymore when his cell phone goes off. “One second,” Patrick pulls the offending gadget out of his pocket and sees that he had received a text message. From Pete. He starts to wonder about the logistics of Pete being able to text message him from his position cowering under the bed but then realizes that it isn’t so far-fetched an idea that Pete would have his Sidekick under there with him.

The message reads, “IF ALL ELSE FAILS GET NAKED.”

“WHAT?” Patrick demands aloud and is met with a strange look from Gerard. He can feel a hand from beneath the bed reach out and pinch the back of his ankle hard. His yelp of pain is covered by his phone signaling another text message.

This one says, “I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO. GET HIM OUT OF HERE. SEDUCE HIM! YOU CAN DO IT.”

“Who keeps messaging you?” Gerard’s brain finally fits together the pieces of the puzzle and he reaches out to snatch Patrick’s phone away.

“No one!” Patrick instinctively throws the phone off to the side in an attempt to keep it away from Gerard and it ends up flying out the open window five stories to the concrete below. He winces but remembers his mission and composes himself. He knows he has to do this. To save Pete. “So. Uhm. You look good,”

Gerard doesn’t look so angry anymore. He looks more confused now and maybe a little frightened. “What?”

A muffled voice from under the bed groans, “Dude. You suck at this.” Patrick ignores both the voice under the bed and the one inside his head now hoping that Gerard does find Pete and kicks his ass.

“I don’t know. Its 3:30 in the morning and my brain cells aren’t awake yet. This is my idea of conversation,” Patrick shrugs.

“Patrick, I didn’t come here for conversation,” Gerard points out and he looks royally pissed off again.

“Oh come on. I’m sure a little part of you wanted to see me,” Patrick gives his extreme discomfort a violent shove away from his mind and trails a hand down Gerard’s chest.

“Better,” The voice beneath the bed comments.

“Patrick. I don’t know what you’re doing or why you’re doing it, but I’m just here to kick Wentz’s ass,” Gerard pulls away from Patrick’s hand, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process.

“I’m sure we could find more fun things to do with my ass,” Even Patrick is a little taken aback by the words coming out of his mouth. He supposes he’s a good actor when he wants to be and right now he’s trying on the role of the seductive hero.

The voice under the bed goes into a coughing fit and Gerard is either too inattentive or too flustered to notice, even when the voice squeaks, “DAMN,” after the coughing subsides.

“P-Patrick?” Pete is clearly the last thing on Gerard’s mind at the moment. The first, in all likelihood, is probably getting the fuck out of that room.

“We don’t have to play this game, Gerard. I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me lately, and well, I’m interested,” Patrick keeps going even though the only he really wants to do is drag Pete out by his hair and videotape the carnage as Gerard mercilessly makes him bleed. Is that really so much to ask?

“Patrick. I quite honestly have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. And it’s really beginning to scare me,” Gerard is slowly backing towards the door. His intent is to wait until Patrick looks a little distracted and then bolt as fast as he can. He can beat Pete’s ass tomorrow.

“I fucking hate you, Pete,” Patrick mutters and hopes that it’s loud enough for Pete to hear but quiet enough so Gerard won’t notice. He takes a deep breath and leans in quickly capturing Gerard’s mouth in a simple kiss. He’s about to pull away and tell Gerard that if he really wants to kick Pete’s ass he’ll have to stand in line because Patrick has definitely earned first dibs, when suddenly Gerard is kissing him back. Hard.

“HOLY FUCK!”

“JESUS!” The two cries are intermingled as the two jump away from each other, Patrick clutching a hand to his chest and Gerard with his cupped over his mouth.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Gerard’s words are muffled and it takes Patrick a moment to translate them into a language he can understand.

“YOU KISSED ME!” Patrick tries his best to keep his heart from beating clean out his chest.

“YOU BIT ME!” Gerard exclaims as he finally removes his hand from his mouth and reveals a small trickle of blood running down his chin.

“WELL YOU HAD YOUR TONGUE IN MY MOUTH!” Patrick has to shout the words to make them heard over the insane laughter coming from under the bed.

“Yes Patrick. That’s generally how people kiss. And seeing as you kissed me first, I would think you would have enjoyed it!” Gerard’s swollen tongue taints his speech with a slight lisp and it takes everything Patrick has within him not to start cracking up. As awful as the situation is, it’s also fantastically amusing.

“Well. You just. Surprised me,” Patrick can literally feel the blush creeping onto his face and he has lost all sense of his original plan. “It was a reflex. When something’s in my mouth, I usually bite it.”

“Noted. Remind me never to let you give me a blowjob,” Gerard mumbles as he ventures into the attached bathroom. “I need ice,” He states as he cleans the blood from his face.

“Hang on a second,” Patrick grabs the provided ice bucket and is about to raid the machine in the hallway when he’s stopped by that damn voice under the bed.

“Dude! You’re not leaving me alone with him, are you?” The voice pleads. “Please Patrick don’t leave me!”

“You’ll be fine. Just KEEP YOUR FUCKING MOUTH SHUT,” Patrick snaps as he yanks open the door and slams it shut behind him. A large part of him desperately wants to come back and find Pete lying in the center of the room as a tangled bloody mess. It would serve him right for all of the shit he put poor Patrick through. He fills the ice bucket and goes back to the room. He’s slightly disappointed to notice Pete still under the bed. “Here,” He wraps some of the ice in a towel and hands the makeshift ice pack to Gerard.

“Thanks,” Gerard presses it up against his mouth and the initial wince quickly turns into a sigh of relief. He flops onto the bed and either doesn’t notice or just ignores the groan of protest from undeneath.

“I’m really sorry. I totally didn’t mean to do that,” Patrick sits next to him, hitting the bed a little harder than he needed to. He suppresses a giggle when a sharp curse comes from beneath the bed. At least the night isn’t a total waste.

“Don’t worry about it. Shit happens,” Gerard waves his hand as if dismissing an apology for a lost CD rather than for a nearly eaten tongue. “So I’m a bit confused right now.”

“About what?” Patrick silently pleads with him to just forget the entire evening and go back to his room.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Well you said you liked me and you kissed me, but then when I tried to kiss you, you freaked out and nearly took off half of my tongue.”

“I’m sorry. Just. I didn’t expect you to kiss me back. I’m not exactly used to people I like liking me back,” Patrick is no longer sure how much of what he’s saying is just acting anymore and how much of it is actually what he feels. What he is sure of is that he truly wishes that the earth would open up and swallow him whole.

“So you do like me?” Gerard asks and his eyes are shining with hope and something else Patrick can’t quite identify.

“Yes,” Patrick nods. He feels like he’s been suddenly transported back to the playground at elementary school. The awkward feelings are all rushing back.

“So. If I kissed you right now, would that be okay or would I just end up bleeding some more?” Gerard is half-serious and half-teasing and Patrick can’t decide whether to chuckle or jump him.

“I think it’d be okay,” Patrick can feel his cheeks burn and his heart rate double as the words fall from his lips. Gerard lights up with a smile and starts leaning in. Patrick meets him halfway and they kiss again. It’s slow, deep, and fairy tale-esque. It’s the kind of kiss that makes your heart skip three beats and your head spin off into another dimension. Patrick can swear there are lights and flashes going off in front of his eyes. He realizes that Pete still has his Sidekick and is probably snapping photos. His suspicion is only confirmed when he hears a cry of, “aww,” from beneath the bed. Try as he might, Patrick can’t seem to find the motivation to care about Pete, his photography, or anything beyond Gerard’s mouth over his at the moment.

It’s over all too soon and there’s an awkward pause between the two men. “So, uh. I should probably get back to my room,” Gerard runs a hand through his hair.

“Oh. Yeah. It is pretty late,” Patrick agrees.

“No. Please tell me you’re not this stupid,” The voice from under the bed is shrill with horror.

“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow though, right?” Gerard’s voice is hopeful. He gives Patrick’s hand a gentle squeeze which makes Patrick smile.

“Definitely. I’ll see you tomorrow,” They get up and Patrick escorts Gerard to the door where they share one last tender kiss before Gerard exits and disappears down the hall.

“HEY. DUMBASS!” Pete wiggles out from his hiding place so his upper body is now exposed.

“Is that your way of saying ‘you’re welcome, Patrick, for doing me that wonderfully kind favor when you could have just thrown me out of my ass,’? If it is, you suck at gratitude,” Patrick jumps on the bed and enjoys the groan Pete makes as the lower half of his body is sandwiched between the bed and the floor.

“STOP FUCKING DOING THAT,” He snaps. “You do realize that he likes you, right? Like seriously likes you?” Pete crawls completely out from under the bed and takes a seat beside Patrick.

“Yes,” Patrick sighs. He wants to sleep, not get lecturing by the person who took away his sleep in the first place.

“And he would have stayed here if you had asked him to,” Pete continues.

“Yes,” Patrick stares hard at Pete and wonders if maybe he could make the bassist’s head explode if he concentrated enough.

“And if you had asked him to stay, you two more than likely would have ended up having sex,” Nope. No explosion yet.

“Yes,” Patrick focuses harder and waits for wisps of smoke to start appearing from Pete’s ears.

“First off, stop trying to explode my head. I know that look,” Pete rolls his eyes. “Second, so you didn’t ask him to stay because?”

“Because. I think I really like him,” Patrick looks down at his hands and bites his lower lip.

“Oh. Well that explains why you wouldn’t want to have sex with him,” The sarcasm is almost literally dripping off of Pete’s tongue.

“I just. I want to take it slow. I don’t want to fuck up anything that could happen by having sex with him just so he won’t kick your ass,” Patrick can see the change in Pete’s eyes as the words register. He understands.

“Oh. Okay yeah, I can see that,” Pete nods and stares off into space for a moment. “Is it cool if I stay here tonight? You did a good job of distracting him tonight but he might remember by morning and I really don’t want to woken up by a punch in the face.”

“Sure,” Before the word has even dropped off Patrick’s tongue Pete leaps up, dives under the covers, and makes himself comfortable. “I spoil you sometimes,” He mutters as he joins him, curling close and settling himself in Pete’s arms.

“Yeah, you do. But I love you for it, Trick,” Pete flashes his infamous Wentz grin and plants a noisy exaggerated kiss on Patrick’s cheek. The room is silent for a moment and Patrick is about to drift back into sleep when he suddenly hears, “Hey. It would have completely killed the mood if I had come out and offered to participate in a threesome, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, Pete. Yes, it would have,” Patrick chuckles in spite of himself.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. I wanted to though.”

“Thank you for restraining yourself.”

“Only for you, babe.”

“Good night Peter.”

“Good night Patrick.”

*!*!*!*!

Comments and feedback are better than cookies and peanut butter. :) <3

Come One Come All To This Tragic Affair...

Wed, 10 Jan 2007 05:56:36 GMT

Here's the deal:

Hello there! This is Katie, better known to LJ as evilcake and this is my fic journal.

Be prepared for some of the most astounding writing your undeserving eyes have ever been privileged enough to read... Yes, I am completely bullshitting you. :P Am I that conceited? No. Do I really think I can write worth a damn? No. But it's something I enjoy doing and some people enjoy reading, so it's a win-win as far as I'm concerned.

I specialize in Green Day, My Chemical Romance, and the Network (well.. Fink) but I will happily take requests as long as you ask me nicely. :)

Aside from this first entry, all entries will be friends only. Yes, I am very obsessive, neurotic, and paranoid about my writing but if you comment here and request me to add you, I more than likely won't deny you.

Hopefully this will all work out magically and we'll have a lot of fun here. :D

-Katie

By the way: my layout was fabulously made by citylightsleep at music_b0x

I'm An Addict For Dramatics...

stop trying to explode my head...

Come One Come All To This Tragic Affair...