SDS - Rage
Title: Rage
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 417
Disclaimer: Not real, not mine.
Notes: Whoops, missed yesterday. For the Seven Days of Sin challenge.
Patrick was throwing things again.
Pete knew it was his fault.
“I know what I’m fucking doing,” Patrick shouted. “Don’t fucking treat me like I’m incompetent.”
“I’ve been doing music longer, and so I think I can say that we need another chorus at the end.”
It was stupid on a monumental scale. Their fights always were. Pete liked fighting about stupid things because it meant that there was a clear way to fix it. It meant that things were still going to be okay when the yelling stopped. Important fights were normally over things that didn’t have an answer.
Patrick was easy to rile up. Sometimes he was red-faced and furious before Pete even realized they were fighting. However, Pete liked being the instigator.
“That’s going to be repetitive, and the song will end up going on for too long,” Patrick argued, hands waving emphatically. Pete got distracted watching the tendons in Patrick’s neck go taught.
“Fucking look at me, you asshole,” Patrick bit out. “We’re going to work this out and finished this god damn song if it kills me.”
“You’re 20. What the fuck do you know about song structure?” Pete said. Because he did that. He brought up things that didn’t matter or relate, only to see Patrick blow up even more. Patrick didn’t often disappoint.
“Apparently more than you do, dicksmack! Go write your whiney-ass lyrics and I’ll put them into something worth listening to.”
“Maybe we should get Joe’s opinion,” Pete said, arms crossed defiantly.
Patrick’s eyebrows pressed down into his eyes, making him almost squint. “No, because it would be a waste of Joe’s time to even bring it up! Don’t you go running for back-up just because you know you’re wrong!”
And with nothing to respond to that, Pete did the only thing left to do: he grabbed Patrick and kissed him. And while Patrick sputtered and tried to wriggle away, Pete kept pressing in and mashing his mouth to Patrick’s. When Patrick grabbed handfuls of Pete’s shirt and pulled, dangerously stretching the material, Pete pushed him against the wall and kissed harder.
The thing was, Pete really liked angry sex. Like, really liked it. He loved how rough and careless it got, how desperate and heated the whole situation became. He liked that it was one of the only times that Patrick stopped being self-deprecating.
It was one of the only times Patrick would take what little Pete had to give. He could live with that.
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 417
Disclaimer: Not real, not mine.
Notes: Whoops, missed yesterday. For the Seven Days of Sin challenge.
Patrick was throwing things again.
Pete knew it was his fault.
“I know what I’m fucking doing,” Patrick shouted. “Don’t fucking treat me like I’m incompetent.”
“I’ve been doing music longer, and so I think I can say that we need another chorus at the end.”
It was stupid on a monumental scale. Their fights always were. Pete liked fighting about stupid things because it meant that there was a clear way to fix it. It meant that things were still going to be okay when the yelling stopped. Important fights were normally over things that didn’t have an answer.
Patrick was easy to rile up. Sometimes he was red-faced and furious before Pete even realized they were fighting. However, Pete liked being the instigator.
“That’s going to be repetitive, and the song will end up going on for too long,” Patrick argued, hands waving emphatically. Pete got distracted watching the tendons in Patrick’s neck go taught.
“Fucking look at me, you asshole,” Patrick bit out. “We’re going to work this out and finished this god damn song if it kills me.”
“You’re 20. What the fuck do you know about song structure?” Pete said. Because he did that. He brought up things that didn’t matter or relate, only to see Patrick blow up even more. Patrick didn’t often disappoint.
“Apparently more than you do, dicksmack! Go write your whiney-ass lyrics and I’ll put them into something worth listening to.”
“Maybe we should get Joe’s opinion,” Pete said, arms crossed defiantly.
Patrick’s eyebrows pressed down into his eyes, making him almost squint. “No, because it would be a waste of Joe’s time to even bring it up! Don’t you go running for back-up just because you know you’re wrong!”
And with nothing to respond to that, Pete did the only thing left to do: he grabbed Patrick and kissed him. And while Patrick sputtered and tried to wriggle away, Pete kept pressing in and mashing his mouth to Patrick’s. When Patrick grabbed handfuls of Pete’s shirt and pulled, dangerously stretching the material, Pete pushed him against the wall and kissed harder.
The thing was, Pete really liked angry sex. Like, really liked it. He loved how rough and careless it got, how desperate and heated the whole situation became. He liked that it was one of the only times that Patrick stopped being self-deprecating.
It was one of the only times Patrick would take what little Pete had to give. He could live with that.