Even If You Were Broke - Standalone
Title: Even If You Were Broke
Rating: PG
Pairing: Pete/Mikey
Summary: Pete Wentz could have anyone he wanted. Anyone except for Mikey Way. He doesn't understand how Mikey could turn him down, he's a true Casanova, but he'll find a way to seduce the younger Way brother. Somehow.
Disclaimer: This is fictional.
Author's Note: Day 2 of MikeyWay week. I hooked up my ancient iPod, and created a fic around one of the songs that came up on shuffle. Thank you J.Lo for teaching me that broke guys are really just amazingly hot.
The thing about Pete Wentz was that he was famous. Fame was always a fickle bitch, but Pete had managed to drag it along for a nice ride. Things were going good; he had a band that he loved, he had money to spare, and he had a lot of girls who wanted his babies. Maybe the last thing was pretty much just creepy, most of the fans of Fall Out Boy were in the young teenage girl range. He had been hoping to be a hit more with the hot blonde co-ed audience, but success was success and he couldn't complain. Not without Patrick hitting him upside the head. Either way, point was he was famous. And along with that came certain laws, number one of them being that Pete Wentz could have anyone he wanted. Not that he'd describe himself as a whore. That gave everyone the wrong picture entirely. He was just consistently open for new and better options, like any reasonable person would be with an important purchase.
That's why Mikey Way was so damn annoying.
Sidling up to Mikey's side, Pete grinned that seductive grin of his, "How much for one night, Way?" The line was smooth, the delivery spot on. He'd made countless girls blush with his straight forward approach, but even when faced with slight embarrassment they were always secretly pleased with the attention and he found that by the end of the night it wasn't too difficult to get what he was there for. It was mutual enjoyment, Pete thrived off it.
"Huh?" Mikey answered, putting a damper on the mood with his obliviousness to it all, but Pete wasn't put off. That would've been hard to accomplish given the circumstances; he'd had his eye on Mikey Way for a while.
He pulled a clip of money from his back pocket, his grin settling into a self assured smirk. Removing the clip and fanning out the wad of cash, Pete counted a few bills --all fifties and hundreds, anything less was pocket change-- before giving up on that, and moving closer to Mikey. He hooked a finger in one of Mikey's belt loops and used it to tug him closer before tucking the wad of cash neatly into the elastic stretch of Mikey's boxers. "You're worth it all."
Mikey just laughed, making Pete wonder if Mikey hadn't gotten the memo that Pete was both famous and awesome, either of which was desirable but when combined was irresistible. Clearly Mikey had been out the day they went over those basics in the life skills classroom, but that was okay, Pete could provide him with a re-education. He was more than happy to.
"Keep your money," Mikey replied, obviously amused. He pulled the bills out from the space between the edge his tight boxers and his skin, not even looking at it as he handed it back to Pete. "You'll need it for the cab fare back."
Pete's mouth gaped, ready to throw aside Mikey's assumption that Pete was drunk because the night was young and he'd only had a few drinks. At worst he could be described as mildly tipsy. Either way, Mikey couldn't have known what Pete had been drinking, so who was he to throw around such unfounded accusations. Plus the cab fare wouldn't even put a dent in the wad of cash he carried around on him. But all those fine points of argument were lost when Pete noticed that Mikey had pulled away from him and ambled off into the crowds.
Standing there looking dumb with his money still in his hand, Pete let out a string of curses that would've made his mother go grab the nearest bar of soap.
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Pacing the hallways of his apartment, Pete wondered when the hell Mikey would get home. He'd gone all out this time, no expense spared; there was no chance of Mikey turning him down again. It was a sure fact in his mind, so he wasn't sure why he had taken to wearing a hole in the carpet of his living room, but it was comforting and there wasn't anyone around to stop him like there usually was.
The florist had sounded surprised when Pete rattled off an approximation of what he wanted, but it had been a pleasant surprise, like Pete's extravagance had wowed even a perfect stranger. Then there was also the financial aspect since Pete's order would probably keep their bottom line padded for at least the next year. It was a thousand red and black roses; bouquets to fill Mikey's apartment with flowers and reminders of the one and only Pete Wentz. Black and red were Pete's favorite colors, almost his trademark, but they were something he figured Mikey would be able to enjoy too. He wouldn't be able to look in any direction without thinking of Pete which was exactly what Pete was hoping for. He'd gone with the florist to help arrange them --thanking God he was able to scrounge up Mikey's spare key since he didn't think the florist would be so cool with breaking and entering-- and he'd written a small note to accompany each bouquet. It was terribly romantic, he expected Mikey to swoon.
Until then he played the waiting game. He wanted it to be a surprise, and he figured it was best to give Mikey some time to compose himself before calling Pete. He knew that My Chemical Romance had recently finished up their tour which meant all the boys were headed back to their respective homes in New Jersey. It was already fairly late at night, but Pete was okay with staying up longer. He didn't want to accidentally sleep through Mikey's call, it might make Mikey think he was being blown off and nothing of that sort was true. Until then he was left alone and victim to his own ideas; his fingernails were already bitten to the quick and shaded over three times with black Sharpie which kept wearing off the more Pete rubbed the pads of his fingers against them.
He had been waiting for hours when his phone started to vibrate on the coffee table, snapping Pete out of his dreams. Sliding across the floor on his socks, he grabbed the phone and flipped it open. The bright light from the screen hurt his eyes; he hadn't bothered turning on all the lights when the sun set, and it had been thirty minutes since when he decided he'd close his eyes for just five minutes. A small icon of an envelope flashed, telling him he had one new text message. The smile on his face widened as he recognized the number as Mikey's, and he fumbled to press the accept button.
lmao. rays allergic to flowers. fuckin hilarious joke man.
The smile died immediately, and Pete felt his heart drop. He fell back onto the couch and dropped his phone to the floor. Mikey's nonchalant version of a text still glared vibrantly from the display; Pete curled up like he was trying in vain to protect his insides from getting all twisted up over it. Tucking his chin towards his knees, he thought about what a stupid idea it had been.
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"Pick a card, any card."
Mikey laughed, "Seriously?"
"Dead serious," Pete answered, spreading a deck of cards across a table before looking back up at Mikey. "I spent the past few weeks with a world famous magician, picking up a few tricks." It wasn't just that Pete planned to woo Mikey with his magical abilities, although that was a part of it. His former self from sixth grade still believed that the key to anyone's heart was through pulling a rabbit out of a hat.
With a bemused smile, Mikey reached out and picked out a card. He held it up so only he could see, memorizing the number and suit before glancing at Pete for instructions on what to do next.
Pete picked up all the cards with one swipe, holding out the deck. "Now that you have picked a card, please place it anywhere in this deck." Mikey acquiesced easily enough to the request, sliding the card somewhere in the middle of the deck. Pete stared at the deck, furrowing his brow with concentration as he shuffled them. He couldn't screw it up, how foolish would he look if he did? He knew Mikey would only shrug it off, but he didn't think he could handle that embarrassment. Pete often put himself in a position to be laughed at, and most of the time he was okay with that, it got him attention; but he didn't want Mikey to be the one laughing. Not when he was supposed to take Pete seriously.
"Is this your card?" Pete asked, almost hopefully, as he held up the three of clubs. Mikey nodded in confirmation, and Pete felt unstoppable. He couldn't stop right then, not when he was on a roll. He sandwiched the card between the palms of his hands for a moment before pulling his hands away, revealing that he'd made the card 'disappear'. He held up his hands, wiggling his fingers and tugging at his sleeves to demonstrate that the card was truly gone, and then he cupped his hands together again. When he opened his hands once more, there was a ticket to a concert of one of Mikey's favorite bands there instead of the card. Both of Mikey's brows raised.
"What's that?"
"I don't know. It's magic," Pete teased lightly, holding out the ticket for Mikey.
Mikey took it and looked closer, "Cool trick. And cool band. I like them too." With that he handed the ticket back, completely forgoing the point which was that Pete had his own ticket and that Mikey was supposed to go with him as his date. "I tried to get tickets too, but then Frank has this thing that night."
The look on Pete's face was nothing less than crestfallen, but Mikey didn't notice any difference. "Mind if I?" Mikey trailed off, waving a hand towards the deck of cards. When Pete gave no response he took them anyway, shuffling them like a professional. "I used to do magic when I was twelve," Mikey admitted before doing a trick that would show up most talented magicians, much less Pete himself.
As Mikey reached out and picked up a card that had magically found its way into Pete's pocket, Pete could only think about how badly he was screwed.
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"Is he straight? Is that it?"
"Pete, I don't care."
"He couldn't be straight. Could he? I mean it. I need an answer."
Patrick was quiet for a minute before he closed his Macbook and stared down his bassist. Pete shut up immediately; Patrick might only have been a few inches taller than a midget, but despite the glasses and trucker hat he was still extremely threatening when he wanted to be. Without a word he managed to get across the fact that he was going to strangle Pete with his own bass strings if he continued on with the tangent he'd gone off on over an hour ago and hadn't stopped talking about since. Patrick was a patient person, really, he was, but there was only so much that one person could take of Pete's rambling. Patrick had reached his breaking point.
"I don't know if he's gay," Patrick answered, "But if you're going to keep talking about this, I'll personally call him and ask."
"You can't do that, Trick," Pete whined, "You don't just ask someone if they're gay. It's too obvious." Nevermind the fact that asking blunt questions like that was exactly what Pete usually did. His tact was typically lacking, and he'd put more than a few people in embarrassing situations by putting them on the spot like that. But that was everyone else, not Pete, and Pete didn't want to be told no.
"Why don't you ask one of his friends then?"
Pete thought about that for a few seconds before launching himself at the tiny singer, throwing his arms around Patrick and hugging him tight. "You're a genius Pattycakes."
"I know I am," Patrick answered with a resigned sigh, "Now please let go of me."
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Gerard was sort of terrifying, and Pete blamed Patrick completely for the mistake that ended up with him sitting across the table from the lead singer of My Chemical Romance. Pete was an outgoing guy, pretty fun loving and easy to get along with, but when you're like Pete there's bound to be some haters. Pete had learned to deal with them mostly; they had really gotten to him at the start, but gradually he became more and more immune to the insults and cold glares from people who barely knew him. Still, it really sucked to have to be face to face with one of them. He had thought that he and Gerard were cool, but by the way Gerard was staring him down from over a cup of coffee he was dead wrong.
"So," Pete began, "Is Mikey here?"
Gerard shook his head before taking a sip of the coffee, never taking his eyes off Pete in a way that was extremely creepy and put Pete on edge, a completely normal response considering the circumstances.
"Awesome!" Pete perked up, "Because I wanted to talk. To you know, you. About him."
"What about him?" Gerard answered, and Pete had a glimmer of hope, thinking that just maybe Gerard would be helpful and then all the problems in his life would be fixed and there could be a happily ever after; because that's how those things often work.
"Does he like guys?"
There was a cold sort of silence for a while after that, and Gerard leaned forward as if to try and get a better look into Pete's soul. "Why does it matter?"
"I wanted to know, just in case," Pete answered, and then wanted to take it back a moment later because as crappy responses go that was pretty bad.
"I saw the flowers," Gerard replied, leaning back again, "And the night at the party, with the cash." Pete swallowed hard, shrinking in his seat and letting Gerard continue. "My brother really doesn't get things sometimes, but he isn't a whore."
Pete felt compelled to try and interrupt at that point, just to say that he'd never thought Mikey was a whore, never, but Gerard held up a hand to signal that he wasn't done speaking yet.
"I don't know what your point is, but you can't buy Mikey. So stop trying."
"But I never tried to buy him," Pete retaliated, only to be met by a stern look. Thinking back on the last month, the unfortunate realization slowly dawned upon him and Pete jumped out of his chair. "Thanks Gee," he breathed, darting out the door before Gerard had a chance to respond.
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It took eleven phone calls to nine different people to track down Mikey Way, and then another forty three minutes for him to get to the front step and ring the doorbell. Mikey answered the door --Pete was grateful since he wasn't sure how he was going to explain to Frank Iero how he'd managed to get his address, and how he knew Mikey was there, but he was sure that if he had to try it would come across like he was some sort of psycho stalker, which he so wasn't-- and Pete took a brief moment to look Mikey over. He was dressed casually, and his hair was a mess; at that point Pete couldn't hold himself back any longer.
"I like you."
Mikey nodded along, and Pete could feel himself literally bouncing, "Yeah, I know." He didn't get it. Again.
Pete's mind blanked for an instant before he repeated himself with more emphasis, "No. Man. I like you. I really like you."
Pete could see on Mikey's face the exact second he understood what Pete meant. His brows furrowed, the cogs in his mind slowly turning, clicking all the pieces into place. The money, the roses, the card tricks.
"Why didn't you just say so?" Mikey answered, finally.
"Fuck," Pete said, a desperate whine reaching his voice, "I didn't know I could." Gripping Mikey's hips, Pete surged forward and pressed his lips to Mikey's, rough and hard. Relief flooded through his system as Mikey kissed back, softer than Pete but still firm and there.
As Mikey pressed against him instead of pulling away, Pete wondered why he hadn't done this in the first place.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Pete/Mikey
Summary: Pete Wentz could have anyone he wanted. Anyone except for Mikey Way. He doesn't understand how Mikey could turn him down, he's a true Casanova, but he'll find a way to seduce the younger Way brother. Somehow.
Disclaimer: This is fictional.
Author's Note: Day 2 of MikeyWay week. I hooked up my ancient iPod, and created a fic around one of the songs that came up on shuffle. Thank you J.Lo for teaching me that broke guys are really just amazingly hot.
The thing about Pete Wentz was that he was famous. Fame was always a fickle bitch, but Pete had managed to drag it along for a nice ride. Things were going good; he had a band that he loved, he had money to spare, and he had a lot of girls who wanted his babies. Maybe the last thing was pretty much just creepy, most of the fans of Fall Out Boy were in the young teenage girl range. He had been hoping to be a hit more with the hot blonde co-ed audience, but success was success and he couldn't complain. Not without Patrick hitting him upside the head. Either way, point was he was famous. And along with that came certain laws, number one of them being that Pete Wentz could have anyone he wanted. Not that he'd describe himself as a whore. That gave everyone the wrong picture entirely. He was just consistently open for new and better options, like any reasonable person would be with an important purchase.
That's why Mikey Way was so damn annoying.
Sidling up to Mikey's side, Pete grinned that seductive grin of his, "How much for one night, Way?" The line was smooth, the delivery spot on. He'd made countless girls blush with his straight forward approach, but even when faced with slight embarrassment they were always secretly pleased with the attention and he found that by the end of the night it wasn't too difficult to get what he was there for. It was mutual enjoyment, Pete thrived off it.
"Huh?" Mikey answered, putting a damper on the mood with his obliviousness to it all, but Pete wasn't put off. That would've been hard to accomplish given the circumstances; he'd had his eye on Mikey Way for a while.
He pulled a clip of money from his back pocket, his grin settling into a self assured smirk. Removing the clip and fanning out the wad of cash, Pete counted a few bills --all fifties and hundreds, anything less was pocket change-- before giving up on that, and moving closer to Mikey. He hooked a finger in one of Mikey's belt loops and used it to tug him closer before tucking the wad of cash neatly into the elastic stretch of Mikey's boxers. "You're worth it all."
Mikey just laughed, making Pete wonder if Mikey hadn't gotten the memo that Pete was both famous and awesome, either of which was desirable but when combined was irresistible. Clearly Mikey had been out the day they went over those basics in the life skills classroom, but that was okay, Pete could provide him with a re-education. He was more than happy to.
"Keep your money," Mikey replied, obviously amused. He pulled the bills out from the space between the edge his tight boxers and his skin, not even looking at it as he handed it back to Pete. "You'll need it for the cab fare back."
Pete's mouth gaped, ready to throw aside Mikey's assumption that Pete was drunk because the night was young and he'd only had a few drinks. At worst he could be described as mildly tipsy. Either way, Mikey couldn't have known what Pete had been drinking, so who was he to throw around such unfounded accusations. Plus the cab fare wouldn't even put a dent in the wad of cash he carried around on him. But all those fine points of argument were lost when Pete noticed that Mikey had pulled away from him and ambled off into the crowds.
Standing there looking dumb with his money still in his hand, Pete let out a string of curses that would've made his mother go grab the nearest bar of soap.
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Pacing the hallways of his apartment, Pete wondered when the hell Mikey would get home. He'd gone all out this time, no expense spared; there was no chance of Mikey turning him down again. It was a sure fact in his mind, so he wasn't sure why he had taken to wearing a hole in the carpet of his living room, but it was comforting and there wasn't anyone around to stop him like there usually was.
The florist had sounded surprised when Pete rattled off an approximation of what he wanted, but it had been a pleasant surprise, like Pete's extravagance had wowed even a perfect stranger. Then there was also the financial aspect since Pete's order would probably keep their bottom line padded for at least the next year. It was a thousand red and black roses; bouquets to fill Mikey's apartment with flowers and reminders of the one and only Pete Wentz. Black and red were Pete's favorite colors, almost his trademark, but they were something he figured Mikey would be able to enjoy too. He wouldn't be able to look in any direction without thinking of Pete which was exactly what Pete was hoping for. He'd gone with the florist to help arrange them --thanking God he was able to scrounge up Mikey's spare key since he didn't think the florist would be so cool with breaking and entering-- and he'd written a small note to accompany each bouquet. It was terribly romantic, he expected Mikey to swoon.
Until then he played the waiting game. He wanted it to be a surprise, and he figured it was best to give Mikey some time to compose himself before calling Pete. He knew that My Chemical Romance had recently finished up their tour which meant all the boys were headed back to their respective homes in New Jersey. It was already fairly late at night, but Pete was okay with staying up longer. He didn't want to accidentally sleep through Mikey's call, it might make Mikey think he was being blown off and nothing of that sort was true. Until then he was left alone and victim to his own ideas; his fingernails were already bitten to the quick and shaded over three times with black Sharpie which kept wearing off the more Pete rubbed the pads of his fingers against them.
He had been waiting for hours when his phone started to vibrate on the coffee table, snapping Pete out of his dreams. Sliding across the floor on his socks, he grabbed the phone and flipped it open. The bright light from the screen hurt his eyes; he hadn't bothered turning on all the lights when the sun set, and it had been thirty minutes since when he decided he'd close his eyes for just five minutes. A small icon of an envelope flashed, telling him he had one new text message. The smile on his face widened as he recognized the number as Mikey's, and he fumbled to press the accept button.
lmao. rays allergic to flowers. fuckin hilarious joke man.
The smile died immediately, and Pete felt his heart drop. He fell back onto the couch and dropped his phone to the floor. Mikey's nonchalant version of a text still glared vibrantly from the display; Pete curled up like he was trying in vain to protect his insides from getting all twisted up over it. Tucking his chin towards his knees, he thought about what a stupid idea it had been.
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"Pick a card, any card."
Mikey laughed, "Seriously?"
"Dead serious," Pete answered, spreading a deck of cards across a table before looking back up at Mikey. "I spent the past few weeks with a world famous magician, picking up a few tricks." It wasn't just that Pete planned to woo Mikey with his magical abilities, although that was a part of it. His former self from sixth grade still believed that the key to anyone's heart was through pulling a rabbit out of a hat.
With a bemused smile, Mikey reached out and picked out a card. He held it up so only he could see, memorizing the number and suit before glancing at Pete for instructions on what to do next.
Pete picked up all the cards with one swipe, holding out the deck. "Now that you have picked a card, please place it anywhere in this deck." Mikey acquiesced easily enough to the request, sliding the card somewhere in the middle of the deck. Pete stared at the deck, furrowing his brow with concentration as he shuffled them. He couldn't screw it up, how foolish would he look if he did? He knew Mikey would only shrug it off, but he didn't think he could handle that embarrassment. Pete often put himself in a position to be laughed at, and most of the time he was okay with that, it got him attention; but he didn't want Mikey to be the one laughing. Not when he was supposed to take Pete seriously.
"Is this your card?" Pete asked, almost hopefully, as he held up the three of clubs. Mikey nodded in confirmation, and Pete felt unstoppable. He couldn't stop right then, not when he was on a roll. He sandwiched the card between the palms of his hands for a moment before pulling his hands away, revealing that he'd made the card 'disappear'. He held up his hands, wiggling his fingers and tugging at his sleeves to demonstrate that the card was truly gone, and then he cupped his hands together again. When he opened his hands once more, there was a ticket to a concert of one of Mikey's favorite bands there instead of the card. Both of Mikey's brows raised.
"What's that?"
"I don't know. It's magic," Pete teased lightly, holding out the ticket for Mikey.
Mikey took it and looked closer, "Cool trick. And cool band. I like them too." With that he handed the ticket back, completely forgoing the point which was that Pete had his own ticket and that Mikey was supposed to go with him as his date. "I tried to get tickets too, but then Frank has this thing that night."
The look on Pete's face was nothing less than crestfallen, but Mikey didn't notice any difference. "Mind if I?" Mikey trailed off, waving a hand towards the deck of cards. When Pete gave no response he took them anyway, shuffling them like a professional. "I used to do magic when I was twelve," Mikey admitted before doing a trick that would show up most talented magicians, much less Pete himself.
As Mikey reached out and picked up a card that had magically found its way into Pete's pocket, Pete could only think about how badly he was screwed.
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"Is he straight? Is that it?"
"Pete, I don't care."
"He couldn't be straight. Could he? I mean it. I need an answer."
Patrick was quiet for a minute before he closed his Macbook and stared down his bassist. Pete shut up immediately; Patrick might only have been a few inches taller than a midget, but despite the glasses and trucker hat he was still extremely threatening when he wanted to be. Without a word he managed to get across the fact that he was going to strangle Pete with his own bass strings if he continued on with the tangent he'd gone off on over an hour ago and hadn't stopped talking about since. Patrick was a patient person, really, he was, but there was only so much that one person could take of Pete's rambling. Patrick had reached his breaking point.
"I don't know if he's gay," Patrick answered, "But if you're going to keep talking about this, I'll personally call him and ask."
"You can't do that, Trick," Pete whined, "You don't just ask someone if they're gay. It's too obvious." Nevermind the fact that asking blunt questions like that was exactly what Pete usually did. His tact was typically lacking, and he'd put more than a few people in embarrassing situations by putting them on the spot like that. But that was everyone else, not Pete, and Pete didn't want to be told no.
"Why don't you ask one of his friends then?"
Pete thought about that for a few seconds before launching himself at the tiny singer, throwing his arms around Patrick and hugging him tight. "You're a genius Pattycakes."
"I know I am," Patrick answered with a resigned sigh, "Now please let go of me."
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Gerard was sort of terrifying, and Pete blamed Patrick completely for the mistake that ended up with him sitting across the table from the lead singer of My Chemical Romance. Pete was an outgoing guy, pretty fun loving and easy to get along with, but when you're like Pete there's bound to be some haters. Pete had learned to deal with them mostly; they had really gotten to him at the start, but gradually he became more and more immune to the insults and cold glares from people who barely knew him. Still, it really sucked to have to be face to face with one of them. He had thought that he and Gerard were cool, but by the way Gerard was staring him down from over a cup of coffee he was dead wrong.
"So," Pete began, "Is Mikey here?"
Gerard shook his head before taking a sip of the coffee, never taking his eyes off Pete in a way that was extremely creepy and put Pete on edge, a completely normal response considering the circumstances.
"Awesome!" Pete perked up, "Because I wanted to talk. To you know, you. About him."
"What about him?" Gerard answered, and Pete had a glimmer of hope, thinking that just maybe Gerard would be helpful and then all the problems in his life would be fixed and there could be a happily ever after; because that's how those things often work.
"Does he like guys?"
There was a cold sort of silence for a while after that, and Gerard leaned forward as if to try and get a better look into Pete's soul. "Why does it matter?"
"I wanted to know, just in case," Pete answered, and then wanted to take it back a moment later because as crappy responses go that was pretty bad.
"I saw the flowers," Gerard replied, leaning back again, "And the night at the party, with the cash." Pete swallowed hard, shrinking in his seat and letting Gerard continue. "My brother really doesn't get things sometimes, but he isn't a whore."
Pete felt compelled to try and interrupt at that point, just to say that he'd never thought Mikey was a whore, never, but Gerard held up a hand to signal that he wasn't done speaking yet.
"I don't know what your point is, but you can't buy Mikey. So stop trying."
"But I never tried to buy him," Pete retaliated, only to be met by a stern look. Thinking back on the last month, the unfortunate realization slowly dawned upon him and Pete jumped out of his chair. "Thanks Gee," he breathed, darting out the door before Gerard had a chance to respond.
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It took eleven phone calls to nine different people to track down Mikey Way, and then another forty three minutes for him to get to the front step and ring the doorbell. Mikey answered the door --Pete was grateful since he wasn't sure how he was going to explain to Frank Iero how he'd managed to get his address, and how he knew Mikey was there, but he was sure that if he had to try it would come across like he was some sort of psycho stalker, which he so wasn't-- and Pete took a brief moment to look Mikey over. He was dressed casually, and his hair was a mess; at that point Pete couldn't hold himself back any longer.
"I like you."
Mikey nodded along, and Pete could feel himself literally bouncing, "Yeah, I know." He didn't get it. Again.
Pete's mind blanked for an instant before he repeated himself with more emphasis, "No. Man. I like you. I really like you."
Pete could see on Mikey's face the exact second he understood what Pete meant. His brows furrowed, the cogs in his mind slowly turning, clicking all the pieces into place. The money, the roses, the card tricks.
"Why didn't you just say so?" Mikey answered, finally.
"Fuck," Pete said, a desperate whine reaching his voice, "I didn't know I could." Gripping Mikey's hips, Pete surged forward and pressed his lips to Mikey's, rough and hard. Relief flooded through his system as Mikey kissed back, softer than Pete but still firm and there.
As Mikey pressed against him instead of pulling away, Pete wondered why he hadn't done this in the first place.