New fic -Head Over Tail, Part 1

[darkangel_0410]

Story Title: Head Over Tail

Story Type: Slash, AU

Characters: Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump, Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley

Pairings: Pete/Patrick

Rating: PG-13/NC-17

Fandom: Bandom (FOB)

Series: Scars & Souvenirs

Disclaimer: As stated before, The Wentz and The Stump don't belong to me and neither do Joe or Andy, for that matter. If you found this because you decided googling your own name was a good idea, do yourself a favor and hit the back button (also, stop taking online pointers from Pete, seriously). And, Pete, if you're reading this, grow a set and start posting already -or, at the very least, comment once in a while and let a chick know what you think.

Warnings: Slash, language, BDSM, dom!Patrick, sub!Pete
Summary: Pete's twenty the first time he meets Patrick; he's the first unclaimed sub Patrick's ever met who's over the age of seventeen. They click almost immediately but that doesn't mean things will be easy for them.

A/N: This took me fucken forever to finish, I swear to god, lol. I should note some things here real quick: in this verse, everyone's either a Dom or a sub; subs are usually collared after they're of age -which is seventeen here- and if they're not, their parents have to pay a huge ass tax on them every month. I tried to stick as close to canon as I could, but obviously it's not exactly canon. If you have any other questions, just comment or message me or whatever and I'll be happy to answer them. Hope you enjoy it, peeps.

Patrick's first thought when he opened his front door and saw Pete Wentz standing there wasn't anything he could have predicted; it wasn't any fanboy thoughts about how this was Pete Wentz from Arma Angelus and RaceTraitor. It was simply: Huh. He's only an inch taller than I am.

He managed to keep his thoughts to himself -he didn't want to alienate Pete the first time they met, he figured that could wait until their second or third meeting; Pete, it seemed, had no such qualms.

“Fuck. What are you, twelve? And is that argyle? I'm going to shoot Trohman.”

“You're Pete Wentz? I thought you'd be taller,” Patrick said, his smart-ass reflex kicking in.

It wasn't exactly an auspicious first meeting, all in all.

*

Despite their first words to each other -or maybe because of them; Patrick could be contrary as fuck when he wanted to be and he suspected Pete was the same- they quickly struck up a friendship that seemed to revolve around Pete incessantly texting Patrick, Patrick telling him to stop acting like such a needy bitch and music; it always came back to the music -dissecting lyrics, discussing their favorite artists, setting up their band practices -having Patrick demonstrate whatever music he was writing on whatever instrument happened to be closest to him.

It felt comfortable to Patrick, easy, like they'd been friends for years. It wasn't until about six months in that Patrick realized Pete was a sub; and it was an accident that he even found out.

*

They had been going to do pick up Joe for practice and Patrick had been fighting with his girlfriend -over the band, of course- for almost an hour and he had finally shut his cell phone off and slouched forward, resting his head on the dashboard of Pete's car.

Pete had been fiddling with the radio, changing each station after only a few seconds. Finally, Patrick had just turned to him and spit out, “Fucken stop it already, Pete.” Without thinking, he had put that extra bit of authority in his voice, that edge of power that so readily marked him as a dom even though he was only just turned sixteen. Pete's reaction had been just as telling; he'd immediately stopped what he was doing and put his hands back on the steering wheel, his head tilted to the side before he'd met Patrick's eyes and looked away, his hand going back to play with the radio, almost as if nothing had happened.

But his shoulders stayed tense for the rest of the night.

*

It was another two weeks before the subject came up again.

By that time, they had worked through the first couple days of awkwardness between them and settled back into the same pattern they had before.

Except now, Patrick always made sure to watch what tone of voice he used when he was hanging out with Pete; they were friends before anything else -and yeah, he's curious as fuck as to why Pete's fucken twenty-one and not collared, but he's not going to poke at it with a stick; not unless Pete brought it up first, at least- and Pete deserved better than for Patrick to use something he couldn't help against him.

Well, maybe not deserved -Pete was an asshole, a lovable one, sure, but still a complete jackass most days- but Patrick wasn't going to cross a line like that; he wasn't going to do something that big -especially if it wasn't what Pete wanted.

So, yeah, everything was normal between them again.

Except now, when Patrick couldn't sleep at night, he thought about using Pete's biology against him -but in the best way possible. And he didn't think about it every night, just when he had hard time sleeping; which was only every other day. But, hell, he was sixteen, dom or not, and all his restraint was currently tied up with not actively attacking his best friend, so Patrick thought he could be forgiven for slipping a time or two -or twenty- in his mind.

But Patrick didn't let any of that show on his face when he saw Pete at band practice or when they were hanging out or driving around or doing any of their usual stuff; he kept it for when he was alone and in bed and his conscious was fucking off and not making him feel guilty about his fantasies.

“I wanted to say thanks,” Pete told him, bursting into his basement and flinging himself onto the old couch next to Patrick.

Patrick barely looked up from the Rolling Stone magazine; he was so used to Pete coming and going like a tornado that it didn't even register any more.

“For what?” Patrick asked absently, most of his attention on the article about guitars he was looking at; he was trying to work up points for the counter argument he knew his mother would have when he told her he needed a new one for Christmas.

“The other day -in the car,” Pete said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

This time, Patrick actually looked at Pete; noticed the way he was looking every where except at Patrick's face, the way he was biting his lip and acting more nervous than Patrick had ever seen him -and that included the time Pete had started a brawl against four other guys with only Patrick as back up and that one had ended with both their noses broken and Pete's ribs cracked.

“Just...for not making a big deal of it,” Pete went on, his fingers picking at the tears in the knees of his jeans. “I didn't want – I would have told you...” He trailed off and than shrugged, still determinedly not meeting Patrick's gaze.

“It's not,” Patrick paused for a second and tried to find the right words. “It's not my business. I mean, you're my best friend and if you want to talk about it -or whatever- than, yeah, I'll listen to you, but if you decide to never bring it up again, that's cool, too.

“And I'm not going to treat you different because of -you're still you, Pete. I'm not going to freak out and get all,” Patrick waved his hand around, hoping that it conveyed his point clear enough.

“In the first place, that would be a shitty thing to do, and in the second, I couldn't do something like that to anyone without their express permission before hand -and I'm especially not going to do that to my best friend.”

There was silence for a few minutes and than Pete looked Patrick in the eye and grinned.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Pete said as he tried to pull something out of his pocket. “I wrote this down yesterday -fuck, these pockets are a pain in the ass.”

“Maybe if you stopped wearing girl jeans, you wouldn't have this problem,” Patrick smirked as he smoothed out the piece of paper Pete gave him.

It was only a sentence and a half scrawled on the back of a receipt -i was terrified and would you mind if i sat next to you and i don't think your boyfriend can treat you right- but Patrick could already hear the beginnings of music playing through his mind, the notes and sounds lining up so easily for him the way the words never did.

“You bring anything else with you?” Patrick murmured, his fingers already drumming a vague beat on his knee as he tilted his head to the side.

“Yeah, my notebook's in my car; I'll go grab it,” Pete told him and got up.

Patrick barely heard him; he was focused on the music in his head and the words in his hand and completely missed the contemplative look Pete fixed on him before he went upstairs.

*

“I didn't want it to interfere with what I wanted,” Pete said suddenly, glancing at Patrick out of the corner of his eye.

They were on their way to band practice; Pete had picked Patrick up from school and they were heading over to Joe's to give him a ride over to Andy's.

“I always wanted more, you know? I always knew the more included music but until I got back from that boot camp, I didn't know how. And I didn't like the idea of having someone else having the power to make those kinds of decisions for me. Especially after that...” Pete trailed off and Patrick saw his jaw clench for a second before he went on.

“I've never been good at behaving the way people want me to.”

Patrick couldn't help the snicker that escaped and Pete grinned, understanding his amusement.

“And when I got into the music scene, I didn't want some jackass to think I was going to bend over for him just because of some stupid thing in my genes that I have no control over. Most of the local musicians are doms, anyway, so as long as I acted the part, they saw what they wanted to.”

“Your parents, they don't...” Patrick flailed for a second before he found what he wanted to say. “It doesn't bother them that your uncollared? I mean, isn't there, like, a tax for it or something? Not that I want you pushed into something you don't want, obviously, I just don't...get why they wouldn't be trying for that.”

“They've never known what to do about me,” Pete said, shrugging his shoulder. When they stopped at a red light, he look at Patrick, a self-deprecatory smirk twisting his lips. “I never acted the way they thought I should. By the time I got back home, my mom was going through her second divorce and my dad was still trying to bang his secretary; they gave me whatever I wanted so I'd go back to doing whatever it was that I was doing before I left.

“It was a win for everyone; I got to be in charge of my own life and they got to go back to their fucked up marriages and girlfriends and pool boys or whatever. They still feel guilty about sending me away to get fucked up even more, so they pay the fine without complaining about it and it makes me feel warm and tingly inside to know that they're getting hit where it hurts every month -their bank account.”

“No one knows?” Patrick asked as Pete looked back out the windshield, putting on the turn signal to go down Joe's road.

“No, “ Pete answered, his shoulder jerking again. “I think Andy knows something's up but he hasn't said anything to me. I don't really let myself ...be myself around most people -I like fights and shit as much as the next person, and, yeah, it would get me tons of attention but I'd rather get that attention 'cause our band is fucken awesome or 'cause I acted like an asshole or 'cause I fucked somebody's girlfriend or boyfriend, whatever.”

They pulled up in front of Joe's house and climbed out of the car. Patrick bumped his shoulder against Pete's as they went up the front sidewalk.

“Hey, you know I would never,” Patrick started to say, ducking his head and shrugging when he couldn't find the words he needed to get his point across.

But Pete understood what he couldn't say.

“No shit, Lunchbox,” Pete grinned as he pulled Patrick to his side for a quick noogie.

“My hat, jackass,” Patrick griped and shoved Pete away from him.

Pete snickered and than jogged up the porch steps. He pounded on the door until they could hear Joe yelling inside before he whipped open the door and glared at Pete for a second before Pete shouldered his way past Joe into the house.

“Fucken Pete Wentz,” Joe said, affection in his voice even as he rolled his eyes.

“Hey, Trohman, you got any cereal?” Pete's muffled voice filtered through the house, punctuated by the light thumping of cabinet doors opening and closing.

“Fucken Pete Wentz,” Patrick agreed as he followed Joe into his house and they both headed for the kitchen.

Patrick had a feeling that he meant it in a very different way than Joe did.

*

The thing was, Patrick had always considered himself a good person; sure, he could be stubborn and his temper tended to explode out of no where at absolutely nothing and, yeah, he had asshole tendencies (nothing like Pete's -but, seriously, who's were?) but he never went out of his way to hurt someone and he never used his status as a dom to get what he wanted the way he knew some people did; he didn't cheat on his girlfriend, he helped his mom when she asked for it, he was polite to people (unless they deserved him being rude, than all bets were off) and, all in all, he considered himself to be a decent human being.

But once he found out Pete was a sub, Patrick had to rethink that assumption.

It wasn't that he was suddenly attracted to Pete -he always had been but Patrick had dealt with that from the beginning; he had shoved it into a corner of his mind to be forgotten. Pete was hot, that was undeniable, but Pete was another dom -and Patrick knew from his own parents' experience that that was one dynamic that never worked out for anyone involved. Patrick could look at Pete and appreciate the way he looked but it was like looking at a painting or seeing Bowie on TV; they looked good and were awesome to check out but you never expected to be able to do anything with them.

And then he found out Pete was a sub.

When the dreams started, Patrick tried to shrug them off; he figured if he ignored them, they would go away. And when they didn't, it still didn't seem like that big of a deal; sex dreams didn't have to mean anything -it could just be his body's way of telling him to get fucken laid.

But they got worse, escalated to daydreams when he was in school, scenarios he'd run over in his head when he couldn't sleep at night. He knew it had gotten out of hand when he had Anna pinned to his bed, her arms stretched out over her head, his hands keeping her wrists against the mattress and for a second he could picture Pete in her place; his body straining against the hold Patrick had on him, his tattoos already marking the skin that Patrick wanted to put his own marks on.

Patrick's mind completely shorted out, his vision dimmed and when Anna called out his name as she got off, he heard Pete's husky voice instead. He never came so hard in his life.

Afterward, Anna had cuddled up against him for almost ten minutes while he franticly tried to keep himself from freaking out; it wasn't the guy aspect of it that was messing with him -his first kiss had been a guy; he'd always been a firm believer that you were attracted to a person, not their gender- but that he had just pictured his best friend while he was fucking his girlfriend.

Luckily, Anna had no idea what was going through his head; she wasn't a bad person or even really selfish, but she hated the band -more accurately, she hated Pete. From the instant she met him, she had taken an instant dislike to Pete -and the feeling was mutual. Patrick could tell by Pete's frosty politeness whenever they happened to be in the same area and he couldn't avoid talking to her; in the way Pete looked at her, his eyes hard and cold.

And if Anna had any idea how guilty Patrick felt at that moment, there was no doubt in his mind that she would use it to try to get him to quit the band. She had already started hinting that she thought he should find something else and Patrick didn't feel like getting into the same fight again this week.

When Pete called to tell him that they had to move practice to tonight on account of Andy having a show on Friday, Patrick was glad for the distraction. He didn't even mind the eye roll Anna gave him when he told her he had to go. They got dressed and even while they were talking, his mind kept focusing on the fact that he had just pictured his best friend while he was fucking his girlfriend.

Patrick walked her to the front door, unsurprised when he opened it and Pete was coming up the front walkway; of course, that was the way his luck was running today.

“Call me when you get home,” Anna had said, giving him a quick kiss before she turned and headed for her car.

“Anna,” Pete had murmured, polite enough even if the tone made Antarctica seem warm.

“Wentz,” and there was nothing even remotely nice in the slight sneer that crossed Anna's lips.

When Pete had grinned at him and Patrick had found himself smiling back, he had known he was in trouble.

*

It was inevitable that him and Anna broke up.

“We were always gonna break up,” Patrick confessed to Pete while they were tuning their guitar and bass before a show they were playing at a friend's house.

“Yeah?” Pete looked up from his bass and arched an eyebrow at him. “You seem really cut up about it, 'Trick.”

“Not all of us go off the emo deep end when we get dumped,” Patrick rolled his eyes to let Pete know he was teasing him before he went on in a more serious tone.

“We didn't want the same things; she thought I was wasting my time with all this,” Patrick waved his hand to encompass the whole scene; them tuning guitar and bass, Andy looking over his kit with a maniacal gleam in his eyes that promised death if anyone had scratched his drums, Joe absently playing a few chords while his eyes roamed over the small makeshift stage and the dozen or so kids milling around the backyard where they were setting up.

“I couldn't get her to understand that I need this, to make music, like,” Patrick struggled to find the right words and he could feel his face heat up the way it did when he was embarrassed.

“Most people need air,” Pete finished for him, nodding like it was easiest thing in the world to understand. “I never said this while you guys were together, Pattycakes, but Anna's a bitch. Fuck her if she can't see how fucken huge we're gonna be.”

Patrick winced at the nickname but otherwise let it pass; he had learned -the hard way- that if he didn't call Pete on any of them, he got tired of the nicknames a lot faster. In almost everything he did, the reaction was what Pete was after.

“Sure, Pete,” Patrick said but he could hear the amusement in his own words. “You want to see if everyone's ready to get going?”

As Pete went over to Andy and Joe, Patrick wondered vaguely how anyone managed to get along without a Pete to give them words they needed and to help balance them out.

*

When they went on tour, Patrick thought he prepared himself for a lot of different things; the fact that he would be living on top of three other guys, the fact that he would have no personal space, that he would have to live out of a duffel bag for months, sleep in the van most nights. He'd need to think about someone else's eating habits when he got snacks at a gas station (he didn't know much about vegans, but he was pretty sure that Cheetos weren't on their approved food list), he needed to learn to deal with the fact that Joe's clothes always smelled like pot, no matter how long it had been since he'd actually smoked anything. Basicly, he knew he would be stuck with Pete, Joe and Andy 24/7, for the whole summer.

What he hadn't taken into account was that he would be with Pete all summer long. Yeah, they spent a lot of time together before this but Patrick had school during the week and they weren't living in the same house, so there was still down time in between them seeing each other. But now? Now, Patrick had Pete in his space all the fucken time and Patrick was afraid something was going to give sooner or later.

It wasn't that they were fighting with each other -they argued, but Patrick could handle the bitching and sniping they fired at each other randomly when they were feeling pissy and homesick.

It wasn't even the way Pete was constantly in the middle of either starting a a brawl or actually getting his face punched in; hell, it wasn't even the way Pete was constantly having sex with anyone who looked even mildly interested and was a sub.

No, it was simpler than that; it was sharing beds on the rare times someone let them crash at their house after a show or the even rarer occasions they had enough money for a hotel room, sleeping against each other in the back of the van -squished in between the seat and the amp where there was barely enough room for one person, never mind two.

It was having Pete sprawl over him at any given second; his feet on Patrick's lap while he read a book or listened to music, his head on Patrick's shoulder while they were bullshitting with whoever happened to be awake and coherent. Just leaning against him while he listened to his iPod.

And it was pretending to be asleep on the bench seat with Andy and Joe in the front with the radio on while Pete jerked off in the back, his moans barely audible.

And, yeah, he had to deal with all of that with Andy and Joe, too, but they never made his chest tighten and make him feel like he couldn't breathe, like there was too much pressure there for his heart to keep beating.

After a month in, Patrick knew he was going to be fucked by the end of the summer.

*

Halfway through the summer, Patrick noticed that Pete's fights were escalating -hardly a day went by where he wasn't in at least a shoving match with someone else. It wasn't hard to guess what was going on; especially when Patrick caught Pete in the bathroom at some motel they were staying at with one hand wrapped around his dick and the other hand pressing against the bruise that was decorating his ribs.

Their eyes met for a second before Patrick mumbled an apology and backed out of the room. He slumped against the bathroom door for almost a minute, trying to talk himself out of it, before he was opening his jeans enough to slip his right hand under the waistband of his boxers.

Even as he started stroking himself and told himself it was wrong, Patrick knew that he would remember the sight for a long time.

*

It was only a week later that the fight happened.

Neither one of them had been sleeping; Pete not for three or four days and for Patrick it was almost as long. They stopped at a gas station to gas up and get snacks, Pete and Patrick got out to stretch their legs and ended up leaning against the van.

Patrick didn't remember what started it but before he knew it they were shoving each other, yelling about who knew what; he could remotely hear Joe and Andy arguing over who was going to break it up and than Pete's fingers were scratching at his throat and his temper finally completely snapped.

Patrick ripped Pete's fingers off before he shoved Pete against the van, his head cracked against the metal and made a thudding noise. Before Pete could even try to get his feet under him again, Patrick's fingers were wrapped around Pete's throat, keeping him pinned to the van.

“What the fuck,” Patrick snarled, his fingers tightening slightly and his power riding his voice. “Is your damn problem, Pete? You're practically begging for someone to put you on your knees and sort you out.”

Pete moaned, the sound barely audible with Patrick's hand still around him and squeezing. Patrick looked into his eyes and saw the pupils completely blown so there was hardly any brown showing; he couldn't really move too much but Pete managed to tilt his head enough to get his point across.

His throat, Patrick thought, the realization throwing him for a brief second. He's showing me his throat.

A quick glance down showed Patrick that not only was Pete hard, his dick pushing up against the tight jeans he was wearing, but that the rest of his body was limp, relaxed against the van and it hit Patrick that they could be in the middle of a scene for all the distress Pete was showing.

“Uh, guys, this might not be the best place to do this,” Joe said, clearing his throat slightly. He gave Andy a dirty look over his shoulder and Andy just smirked and motioned for him to go on.

“I don't want to get in the middle of whatever this thing you guys are doing but Andy's a fucken cheater and I lost Rock, Paper, Scissors, so I really need you guys to stop before someone calls the cops.”

Patrick took a deep breath and nodded and he loosened his grip on Pete's neck. Once Pete looked like he was going to be able to stand on his own, Patrick let go.

“We'll be there in a second,” he told Joe, not taking his eyes off of Pete. “I just want to talk to our bassist for a minute.”

“Alright,” Joe said after a second. “Hurry it up, yeah?”

“You need to stop this, Pete,” Patrick told him in a low voice; he made sure there was nothing but concern in his tone -he didn't want to make Pete think he had to listen to him. He didn't want Pete to think it was an order from dom to sub; especially since he wasn't even Pete's dom.

“You're going to get hurt -seriously hurt, I mean, not just bruises and red marks.

“What if it was someone else who you goaded into strangling you? What if they didn't stop? You'd be -”

“No,” Pete interrupted, his voice hoarse. He leaned back against the van but kept his eyes on Patrick's. “I would never – You're the only one I'd trust enough for it to get that far.”

Patrick felt his chest tighten at Pete's admission; he had suspected, of course -Pete didn't relax around anyone else the way he did around him, not even Andy and Joe- but to hear him say it sparked a familiar twist of possessiveness and protectiveness that settled over him; it was stronger than it had ever been with Anna or any of his other partners.

“I just... Sometimes I feel like my skin's too tight, like I can't breathe,” Pete finally went on, jerking his eyes away from Patrick's and looking down at the ground.

“And I just need...something so I can think again, so that I can breathe and talk and write without it feeling too forced or fake or not what it should be.”

“Yeah,” Patrick agreed, his voice low. “I haven't since Anna...”

He let it trail off, knowing Pete would understand what he was saying.

Pete nodded. “Yeah. I shouldn't have... I'm selfish, I guess. Hell, I know I'm a selfish bastard and I know I usually just want what I want and fuck the consequences, but I shouldn't have done that to you.

“I just – I knew you wouldn't hurt me, not permanently. And since you seemed OK with the cuddling and everything, I guess I thought this would be more of the same.”

“I can't,” Patrick said after a few beats of silence and than he stopped for a second, trying to find the right words for what he wanted to say.

“The leaning and hanging out and whatever is fine, but I can't do anything else. I just can't be casual about that with you. I know myself well enough to know that I wouldn't be able to let it be just a casual thing between friends.

“You don't want anything else. You don't, Pete,” Patrick repeated when Pete opened his mouth.

“You don't and that's fine -I would never be mad at you for that. But don't do this to me again, OK? I can't... I just can't, Pete.”

Patrick waited for Pete to nod and than turned to walk around to the van door. Pete caught up to him and slung an arm around Patrick's shoulders.

“You're still my bestie, 'Trick,” Pete said and gave him a loud kiss on the cheek.

“No shit, asshole,” Patrick grumbled and elbowed him in the side.

Pete snickered and than dove into the van. “Let's get this show on the road, bitches.”

“Everything OK?” Andy asked quietly as Patrick sat on the bench seat next to Pete and slid the door closed.

“As OK as it ever is,” Patrick answered his voice just as low.

Andy nodded in understanding before he started the car up. Everything was as normal as could be expected as they settled in for a long drive; Joe talking quietly to Andy about how he used to have a normal life before he decided to start a rock band filled with assholes, Andy chuckling a little and rolling his eyes. Pete throwing whatever he found on the floor at the back of Joe's head until he got bored and put his headphones on.

Pete toed off his shoes and swung his feet over onto Patrick's lap before he leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes. Patrick put his hand on Pete's ankle and squeezed it affectionately before he started staring out the window.

Some where in the back of his mind, he found himself wishing that he could have done whatever it was Pete wanted of him, just for the chance to see Pete on his knees before him.

*

The rest of the tour went quickly; everything was back to normal. Pete might have been a bit more clingy than usual -and before now Patrick would have thought that was fucken impossible- but other than Pete's tendency to stick to Patrick's side before and after shows instead of inciting riots and brawls, everything was the same.

Almost before Patrick could realize it was happening, he was getting dropped off in front of his house and Pete was helping him drag his bags inside.

“We'll see you this weekend, Lunchbox,” Pete told him, giving him a hug. “I'll pick you up on Saturday for practice. Try not to miss me too much 'til then.”

“Yeah, right,” Patrick scoffed and shoved Pete towards the door. “You know you'll be texting me in two hours, whining about being bored.”

“Yeah, but that's why you love me 'Trick,” Pete snickered before he called out a goodbye to Patrick's mom and darted out the front door. “See you later, Mom!”

“Pete's still Pete, I see,” Patricia commented before she pulled him in for a long hug.

“Yeah, Mom,” Patrick agreed, smiling a little. “Pete's always Pete.”

“Well, come on then,” she said after looking over her son for a minute. “There's pizza warming in the oven. You can tell me how touring went.”

After eating and talking for a few hours, Patrick dragged all his bags upstairs and collapsed on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

He had just gotten changed for bed when his phone started vibrating on his nightstand.

feels weird to be in an actual bed

And than almost immediately after:

see tricky lasted three hours ha

Patrick laughed and settled down to talk to Pete until he fell asleep.

Part2

Comments

[candy-belle.livejournal.com]

meeeppp!!! its here!! its finally here and it is sooooooo good!!!



I love the fight scene at the garage sent tingle down my spine and the last section loved the last text so Pete but so cute and for some reason i can see Patrick's face when he read it. guess what...*running off to part 2*