Work Text:
It was nice in this green room. Spacious, chilled just enough, the overhead lights weren’t searing enough to cause headaches, and even the couches they were sitting on weren’t disgustingly worn out yet, stained by years of sweaty singers and spilled substances. Nah, it’s still pretty pristine. But the best part of it is the company. Patrick, Joe, Andy, the typical roadies popping in and out; sure, all great, but all expected for the tour, for Pete’s life. The standout, the excepted element to this show, this green room, this night, is Mikey Fucking Way.
Mikey was sprawled out over him, head against his chest, torso between his legs, and he was chatting and laughing with Patrick while Pete’s fingers traced through his hair. It was all so casual, so natural, like years hadn't passed. Like nothing's changed at all since Summer 2005, except maybe they were a bit older ‘n wiser now— or maybe still stupid, but just in better ways.
It was just like before, and Mikey was gonna play with them again tonight.
They’d been planning it for weeks, maybe even months, time had fuckin’ flown since the tour started falling into place, but Pete was still nervous as fuck. It was easier to ignore before it was right here in front of his fucking face, he could put it off, worry about it later. Sending that text felt like the most terrifying moment of Pete’s whole fucking year— which, honestly, lame . Mikey was cool, Pete knew he and Mikey were cool, and had been for forever. He shouldn’t have been so nervous. He had sent the text with his eyes closed, and fully braced for the “no” to eventually ping back.
Mikey replied within minutes; he would be fuckin’ stoked to.
And tonight was the night.
They would get up on stage, perform a whole fucking set like it was completely normal, and then he’d sweep Mikey out from the wings at the last minute, hand off his bass, and finish up Saturday , together.
Mikey’d agreed to all of this, for him, despite everything. Despite Pete’s weirdo-obsession reaching its 18th year and their lives moving so much further on. Things should be different now, they should be different now, but here they were. Mikey was still lying against him and his hands were still in Mikey’s hair.
He combed over Mikey’s scalp, rubbing little circles here and there, tangling what sections were long enough around his fingers and pulling gently through.
At some point Patrick got involved in some other topic, arguing something or other of literally no importance with Joe, who seemed to just want a stupid debate, freeing Mikey to just sit in silence against Pete.
Mikey tilted his head to look up at him; “You doin’ okay, man?”
“Me? Fuck yeah, I’m great. What are you—”
Mikey tapped his hand against Pete’s chest. “My head’s right here, Pete, and I can, uh, feel your heart going a fuckin’ mile a minute.”
Oh, shit, that it was.
“You nervous?” His voice was soft, gentle, not wanting to cut above the debate the other guys were fully involved in now, not wanting to broadcast his and Pete’s conversation nearly as much.
“Yeah, I guess I really fucking am.” Pete relented, finally spilling his thoughts. “Are you not? ”
Mikey shrugged. “Not really. It’ll be fun, like old times.”
“Yeah, old times. Thats why it's scary.”
“Were the old times not fun?” Mikey cracked a smile and with the tilt of his lips, the hint of his teeth, the gentle fucking look that’s grown to dominate his expression over the years, the serious veneer all melting away to reveal so much care underneath; it all reassured Pete, like Mikey’s always fucking managed to do.
“They were.” Pete relented again, Mikey was always right. “They were really fucking fun.”
“Okay, so let’s make this really fuckin’ fun.”
It felt like they’d barely made it off stage before Pete was crashing into Mikey’s chest, embracing him so tightly anyone who walked back into the green room would think Pete was trying to fuckin’ crush the poor guy.
It had been really fuckin’ fun . And Pete didn’t want it to end. Maybe he was squeezing so tight because he did wanna keep hold of Mikey, keep him from ever slipping out of his grasp again. They had never been completely gone from eachothers lives, but this close— to have him this close again... Pete didn’t want to lose that. It was so good to have this again.
This was what he was scared of, of being fuckin’ crazy again. Of getting Mikey close and letting it run all over his brain, take everything apart that wasn’t Mikey. Word after word he’d wrote for Mikey resurfaced in his head, so strong it threatened to spill over into more, into rambling that would turn to lyrics later, but would just be nonsense now. This was just a show for Mikey, just one fun night. Pete was overstepping it, reading too much, letting it all go crazy again.
“It's gotten so long...” Mikey was stroking through his hair now. And his arms were around Pete too. And he was laughing, hard.
“Yeah.” It felt good, to have Mikey’s chest shaking like that up against Pete’s face. Pete nuzzled into Mikey’s chest like a fuckin’ cat, but really more like he was trying to burrow a hole through his ribs and into his heart. But he couldn’t really get there, so he would have to settle for just standing here, teetering with Mikey on unsteady feet and delirious excitement and obsessive thoughts.
Pete felt Mikey’s heartbeat quicken against his temple. A lot. And it started fucking eating him alive. Yup, he’d fucked it This had been too much to ask— and not only that, but Pete had took too fucking much too. Greedy fucking son of a bitch. Okay, Pete, calm yourself. He was catastrophizing. Mikey never fucking said anything like that, it was just a thought, just a heartbeat. Part of being older ‘n wiser was learning better, thinking smarter. He could just... ask.
“What’s up?” Those two words felt like pulling a fucking tooth.
“’s pretty. I like it.” Mikey responded completely nonscelantly, still stroking through Pete’s hair. He was fucking ignoring Pete now, and his heart was only hammering harder, like he was trying to hide something from Pete. Fuck .
“No, I’m— I'm being for real, man. Was that weird? You feel okay?” It all shook out of him at once like some scared little kid. Warbled out like some pitiful wet-winged bird shivering through a downpour of messy, messy emotions
“Huh? Pete I feel fuckin’ great, uh—” Mikey looked down at Pete and he must’ve been wearing every fucking ounce of worry on his face, but Mikey just laughed.
Pete would’ve worried about panicking, but before he could even get halfway of a step into it, Mikey quelled it with a kiss pressed on top of his head, into his hair, and a little spin. Mikey spun him, picked him up and spun.
“This about my heartbeat now? Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just excited, Pete. Uh, really excited.” And sure enough— Mikey pressed fully against Pete and Pete felt it; Mikey was half-hard.
Oh. Oh, my fucking god. Well, that changed everything. Well, that... was really fuckin’ fun .
Mikey combed his fingers through Pete’s hair again, and pressed another kiss to the top of his head.
“You like it that much, huh?” Pete tried not to choke on it, tried to get back an ounce of dignity and composure and pure fuckin’ flirt, dig it out from grave he’d been digging himself in his head.
“Maybe I just like you? Ever think of that, Wentz?” Mikey fired back, and, fuck, did that sooth everything, instantly. Pete was barely dwelling on anything they were talking about, but after a moment and a sharp inhale, Mikey conceded; “But, yeah. I do like it.”
The groan edging Mikey tone, just threatening to spill out was enough to embolden Pete, let him keep pushing. “You know you don’t have to be so gentle.”
“Yeah, I remember.” And Mikey pulled, as if to prove it, but not too hard yet. It was just enough to tilt Pete’s face up, just enough to get his lips on his.
It was so nice. Mikey’s hands were big, and his fingers were twisting into Pete’s hair so well, burning at the roots in that way that made everything buzz so good. And all of a sudden Pete was in a mood, a mood where he wanted to thank Mikey, show him how much he appreciated all of this, coming back to play with them again, after so many years, still liking Pete, still wanting him.
Pete dropped to his knees.
Mikey’s hand was still in his hair so it burned and pulled Pete’s neck before Mikey had realized what Pete was doing and had loosened his hold.
“Jesus, Pete.” Was the response Mikey gave. Decidedly not a complaint, so Pete kept moving, rubbed his face forward into Mikey’s crotch, mouthing at his jeans.
Mikey could barely even look at Pete. He was hiding behind his hand and Pete could’ve sworn he’d tipped his hat lower. But he was pushing Pete forward, nudging behind his ears with his fingertips, just barely asking for more.
Pete didn’t hesitate this time. He unzipped Mikey’s jeans, slid them and his boxers down to his ankles, and took Mikey in his mouth.
It had been years, but it flooded back easily, the taste of Mikey, the way he wanted Pete to move his tongue, every little stuttered breath and moan he made, how they caught in the top of his throat.
Pete thought he was melting almost as much as Mikey was.
Things hadn’t changed, but it was easier now. Pete had settled into himself, he wasn’t chewing apart his mind’s inner-workings nearly so much, he was trying to just let himself be without so much thought—so much worry —to it, and Mikey was clean. Everything was better now, and this was for them.
Mikey grabbed a handful of Pete’s hair again, twisting the bleach-blond lengths around his fist, and pushed Pete deeper. He left him seated there for a moment, and exhaled so good and shaky before he drew Pete back— all the way back. Completely off his cock, giving Pete just enough of an opportunity to reposition so it’ll rest right up against his face. Fucking porno gold.
“Jesus, Pete.” Mikey repeated dumbly before he was covering his face again. Yup, direct hit.
Pete dragged his tongue along the underside, and it doesn’t take any more coaxing than that before Mikey was shoving him back on his cock.
Pete let that flood his head instead of his worries. Just Mikeyway’s fist in his hair and cock in his mouth and praise and moans echoing the greenroom loud enough that nobody would dare try the door.