Pairing: Will/Pete [The Academy Is.../Fall Out Boy]
Disclaimer: So far as I'm aware this never took place, until I see video footage I'm going to stick to that.
Summary: Pete encounters writers block.
Dedication: For my Lesley, because she gets me through most days and I promised her this months ago.
The Academy Is… are taking a well earned rest from touring and recording and the music business in general; Butcher and Chiz have returned to their homes, taking a short holiday in order to visit their families. Mike and Sisky are off who knows where, and Bill, well Bill is alone and bored.
With nothing better to do, he ends up on the doorstep of Pete’s parent’s house, knowing the older man is taking time off from touring and everything else in order to focus on the book he’s writing. The book that has already missed its deadline. Bill knows he’s been having problems with it and if it were him, he’d have given up by now, but Pete is very different from him and refuses to be beaten by a book and a case of writer’s block.
Bill nibbles on his bottom lip, shoes tapping a random tune on the concrete floor as he waits for the door to be opened. He lifts slender fingers to press the buzzer again, jumping slightly as the door springs open before his fingers even make contact, and there is the older man standing before him.
Despite it being mid afternoon, Pete is dressed in his pyjamas still; dark hair sticking out at all angles. Will’s eyes linger on the skin of his stomach exposed, since pants are too low and top too small. He can’t help the smirk that curves his lips, tongue flicking over them as he eyes the strategically placed tattoo on the other man’s body before rolling his eyes and pushing inside of his house without a word.
Pete doesn’t need him to talk, he knows Beckett too well, they’ve been friends for oh, seven years? Give or take. Point is, they can read each other’s moods, and it’s with a bemused expression on his face that Pete shuts the door behind him and looks over at the younger man. “Bored?” he asks, watching as Bill’s shoes are kicked into the heap by the door, hoody dropped on top of them.
Plump lips twist into a rather pathetic pout as Bill nods his head, stepping closer to Pete and draping his thin arms around his shoulders. “Like you wouldn’t believe…” he whines, wrinkling his nose up. Pete briefly thinks that Bill is wrong, he can believe it, he’s seen the way the younger man gets agitated if he doesn’t have enough to do, doesn’t have anything to focus on. He’s the same. But he doesn’t get a chance to talk because Bill is patting his shoulder lightly, “It’s okay, you’ll entertain me, won’t you Petey?”
Pete doesn’t need to look at him, to know that the other boy is pouting down at him, eyes wide and puppy-dog like. He laughs and raises a hand to his hair, pushing it through it and attempting to flatten it or at least make the tangles look a little more, deliberate. He turns his head to look up at Beckett, a sigh leaving his lips, overdramatic and deliberately drawn out as he shakes his head a little. “I’m a little busy Becks…maybe later.”
He’s just teasing really, because it’s obvious he’s going to give in eventually, one way or another. But Bill still pouts, nose wrinkling up, “Doing what?” he whines, though he knows perfectly well what, “You’re not even dressed…” And he’s pressing his body up against Pete’s, rubbing just enough to make it seem accidental, though Pete is wiser than that. Still it’s a little hard to ignore the hand slipping down to snap the elastic waist band of his pants against the skin of his waist.
Pete laughs again, and shakes his head, “Fuck you Beckett…” he smirks as he says it, good natured and affectionate as he pushes the skinny boy away from him lightly. “You know I’ve been up.”
Bill stumbles, just slightly, catching himself gracefully and raising an eyebrow at him, smirk curving his lips again, “I’ll bet you have…” he raises slender hands to rest on slim hips and taps his bare foot on the floor. He shakes his head in mock disappointment, an exaggerated sigh leaving his own lips, “But really Pete, you’re a grown man, you surely don’t need to wait for my help…”
His voice is teasing and Pete laughs softly, shaking his head a little, “As though I would let you dress me. I like wearing actual clothes as opposed to walking around half naked.” He smirks and watches as Beckett simply sticks his tongue out at him before disappearing up the stairs. He rolls his eyes and follows after him.
Bill is only a few steps ahead of him, but he still somehow manages to have half of Pete’s clothing on the bed by the time the other man gets into the room. Sceptically picking through it and tutting softly.
Pete pulls a face and drops his small frame onto the chair at the desk, frowning at the mess piling up, “Really B, I don’t need to get dressed…I just need to get this god damn book finished.” He glares at the bright screen of his laptop, a tired sigh leaving his lips.
Bill turns his head, fixing him with a stare for a moment, taking in the tired circles under Pete’s eyes that he somehow missed before. He nibbles on his bottom lip and shuffles over, draping himself over the back of the chair and resting his chin on Pete’s shoulder. “What’s the problem with it?” He asks softly, and Pete knows he’s being genuine now, but that’s the problem; normal, genuine Beckett is somehow a lot hotter than deliberately flirty Beckett. And his lips are too close to his ear and his breath is too hot against his neck and Pete shrugs and shivers lightly. “I just…Can’t do it.” He mumbles, looking down at his hands as though they were the most interesting thing.
Bill frowns, because he hates it when Pete gives up, and it seems like that happens a lot more recently. The whole situation with…he won’t mention the name, not even in his head, though a frown settles on his situation. Ever since, him. Pete has seemingly gotten more fucked up about things, and Bill hates it. Because Pete is his idol, his hero, perhaps, his everything? And he’d do anything it took to make the other man smile, laugh, be happy.
He pulls back a little, pecking Pete’s cheek lightly and smiling reassuringly at him, “It’s brilliant Pete, you know it is,” he murmurs truthfully, glossy curls falling around his face as he nods his head a little. “You’re…just, stressed and tense…” he hesitates for a moment and moves to slide his slim frame into Pete’s lap, sitting delicately on him. “You need to relax,” he whispers, and then brushes his lips lightly against the older man’s.
It’s not like they’ve never kissed before, Bill has drunkenly made out with him a million times before, groped and cuddled, and pecked each others lips on stage. But no alcohol is involved this time and there’s no adrenaline pumping through their veins making them do crazy things. This is just them. All them. And Bill is aware that Pete may well just shove him to the floor, yell and walk out in disappointment, but it doesn’t stop him from reaching a hand to lightly caress his cheek as he slips his tongue out to swipe over Pete’s bottom lip.
Pete’s eyes are wide with surprise before he allows them to flutter shut, pulling the younger boy closer to him and stroking a hand up and down his back. His lips part, warm and inviting to Bill, sucking the probing tongue softly before they both pull back.
And one minute Bill is smiling shyly at Pete, and the next he’s sliding off his lap and ducking beneath the desk, settling his body between the older mans legs. “Relax…” is all he whispers.
And Pete’s head tips back a little, biting on his bottom lip in anticipation as skilled fingers tug the elasticated waist of his pants, tugging them down his thighs. A soft gasp as Beckett discovers –to his delight- that Pete Wentz does not wear underwear with his pyjamas, and then Pete feels plump lips close around him and he can’t help bucking his hips up. All conscious thoughts leave his head as he reaches his hands down to tangle in Bill’s perfect hair.
He tugs on it a little sharply, pulling the younger boy, encouraging him to take more in. Bill obliges. Willing to do whatever Pete wants, whatever it takes to make him relax, feel better.
He bobs his head carefully, tongue sliding over the underside as he grazes his teeth expertly, and Pete can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips. Beckett is definitely as experienced as everyone says, and yeah, his mouth and throat are good for more than just singing.
That’s all that he manages to think, because the next moment he’s bucking his hips up into the warm mouth, tugging hard on Bill’s hair as he finds his release, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he shudders his name out.
Bill swallows it all down, sucking on Pete until he’s finished and then pulling back and licking his lips, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. And he tilts his head up, a satisfied smile on his lips at the blissful expression on Pete’s face.
Pete is aware of fingers gently tucking him back into his pyjama pants and reaches out, pulling Bill up and getting to his own feet. Bill tilts his head to the side a little, a slight look of confusion on his pale features as Pete tugs him over to the bed, pushing the abandoned pile of clothing onto the floor. He lies down, pulling Bill with him and kissing at his lips lightly as he tangles his limbs with the other boys.
Bill looks at him for a moment longer, half frowning, “What about the book?” He asks, softly, lips brushing against the other man’s as he speaks.
“Fuck the book.”