Work Text:
“I was trying to do a costume change, too. I came out in dry clothes, and now...” He handwaves. “I’m not. Magic!”
Pete can't help the laughter that tears from his throat. Patrick’s banter is cute. Pete's charmed by it. It's gotten better and better as the tour has gone on, Patrick’s confidence boosting with every night, and it's not just Pete coaxing it out of him anymore. That was authentic, all Patrick. It had caught Pete off guard in the best possible way; who could believe this was the same kid with the hat skewed so far down his face you wouldn’t’ve even believed he had eyes at all?
Pete certainly had noticed the effects of the heat, even without Patrick’s joke. The poor guy was drenched . He dutifully kept his denim jacket on despite, but his undershirt was sticking to his skin— clinging to his neck, his chest, his stomach. Pete was thinking hard about peeling it off, now. Patrick looked damn good with it on, but Pete couldn’t help but consider future plans.
It was wonderful, wonderful torture to watch Patrick get wetter and wetter all night knowing he couldn’t get his hands on him until after the show. Sometimes it was a little too obvious, excitement overflowing into little skip and spring in his step, but hopefully only the other guys knew what it really was about. Pete relished in the pyro superheating all of them, making tension swell and hearts race and slicking Patrick's hair to his forehead until he’d pulled his hat off, trying to fan off anything and cool just a bit down. Pete wanted to get too-close with his flamethrower bass. He wanted to scare Patrick a little, piss him off, get him warm and worked-up in more than one way. Patrick was mostly rosy these days, but it was fun to get him back into a good-natured scuffle every now and again. A lovers’ spat.
Tonight, Pete was thinking of that, and about licking every last drop of sweat off of Patrick’s skin.
He didn’t really want to wait. The humid summer air was messing with his brain as much as it was messing with Patrick’s body. How bad would it be, really, if he snuck a little taste? He’d done weirder things with Patrick, and there were worse photos of him online, so who cared, really? He committed to the thought as he crossed the stage, stuck to it and settled on his little skip as he approached Patrick. Who didn’t even notice, or budge, at least, when Pete stopped and stood right beside him.
He leaned in close, right up to Patrick’s neck, just like old days, and licked .
Patrick almost jumped. He hadn't been expecting that , clearly. A kiss was more in-line. Familiar, a bit old-school, but not so shocking. But Pete hadn't given him any quick kiss, no dainty peck. Instead he had licked a thick stripe up Patrick’s neck, all the way behind his ear. It was glorious, he was salt-slick and sweat-sweet. Pete loved the taste of him, no matter how he was getting it, but this was a particularly good twang.
Patrick had missed his next lyrics-queue, but that wasn’t particularly worrisome. Happened all the time, Oh boy, Patrick forgot the words again. Pete would’ve seen the comments even if the intern hadn't been snickering and sending them to him all tour. It was a common occurrence, and with so much new on their plate, who could even blame Patrick.
People would really notice this one though; Patrick forgetting the words cause Pete licked him. He could see the tiktoks and tweets with their shocked little captions cropping up already. Whoops .
It was well worth it though. Pete slid his tongue over his teeth, savoring the taste and spreading it over his whole mouth. It had to last the rest of the set, there was no way Patrick would encourage his behavior, offer up his skin for the tasting again. Pete was lucky to have gotten away with what he did, and he was thankful for it.
When he stepped into the spotlight with Patrick again for a bit more banter, there was a look in Patrick’s eye. It didn’t match the sparkle Pete knew was shining back in his. Instead, it held a bit of a burn; the look an animal gave just before it started to growl. But Patrick didn’t growl and, sparing a moment with an eye-roll that barricade totally would’ve caught, he returned to something softer in his gaze. Just some light judgement, maybe Pete would get bitched-at later for being so bold, but he wasn’t sleeping in the doghouse yet. Patrick, if annoyed, was still very endeared. Even after years, Pete’s charm still had its effects.
Pete flashed a toothy grin, and turned away with a playful riff of his bass. Patrick matched his laughter from earlier, and Pete’s heart sung. He had some good tastes to savor until Saturday came to a close.