Pete is straight, of course, but Patrick is actually straight, which would make him less fun to toy with if Pete didn't treat him like his emotional property. Gabe noses against Patrick's collarbone, grinning at the uncomfortable shifting he can hear from where Pete is sitting a few feet away. Patrick huffs out an annoyed breath and cranes his neck around Gabe's 'fro so he can see his laptop screen.
They're sitting in between buses, waiting. The vast majority of tour life consists of waiting, interspersed with a few hours of frantic motion, then more half-days of nothing. Patrick is using this time to do something extremely important, apparently. "Knock it off, Gabe," he says impatiently. Gabe nibbles his ear in response.
"He said knock it off," snaps Pete.
Gabe lifts his head, grins directly into Pete's gaze, and smacks a big long wet one right on Patrick's lips. Patrick splutters against him hilariously, and even though Gabe is braced for it, the punch knocks their lips apart.
It's true, Gabe is, but Pete has never been one to let his awareness of his own shortcomings keep them from functioning. He tackles Gabe, fists flying. There, finally, something interesting. Gabe rolls away from Patrick to avoid accidentally hitting him, because Pete would get seriously pissed if Patrick got hurt. It's not about Patrick, anyway.
Pete's aiming for Gabe's sensitive areas, and when their tussling turns into wrestling, Gabe can feel that he's hard. He always gets hard when they fight. Gabe is, too. He doesn't usually get aroused from brawling with his friends, but he does with Pete, because he never knows if this is going to be the time that Pete gives in, lets himself stop throwing punches and start rubbing off frantically like he so obviously wants to.
Pete knees Gabe in the stomach, and Gabe can tell the moment he feels Gabe's hard-on against his shin. He jumps up, backs away a few steps. "Leave Patrick the fuck alone," he says nervously and disappears onto his bus.
Not this time, then. Maybe Gabe needs a plan of attack that doesn't involve the presence of a real straight boy.
Gabe/Patrick & Gabe/Pete -- Just To Fuck Shit Up
They're sitting in between buses, waiting. The vast majority of tour life consists of waiting, interspersed with a few hours of frantic motion, then more half-days of nothing. Patrick is using this time to do something extremely important, apparently. "Knock it off, Gabe," he says impatiently. Gabe nibbles his ear in response.
"He said knock it off," snaps Pete.
Gabe lifts his head, grins directly into Pete's gaze, and smacks a big long wet one right on Patrick's lips. Patrick splutters against him hilariously, and even though Gabe is braced for it, the punch knocks their lips apart.
"Jesus Christ," says Patrick. "Leave it, Pete, he's just baiting you."
It's true, Gabe is, but Pete has never been one to let his awareness of his own shortcomings keep them from functioning. He tackles Gabe, fists flying. There, finally, something interesting. Gabe rolls away from Patrick to avoid accidentally hitting him, because Pete would get seriously pissed if Patrick got hurt. It's not about Patrick, anyway.
Pete's aiming for Gabe's sensitive areas, and when their tussling turns into wrestling, Gabe can feel that he's hard. He always gets hard when they fight. Gabe is, too. He doesn't usually get aroused from brawling with his friends, but he does with Pete, because he never knows if this is going to be the time that Pete gives in, lets himself stop throwing punches and start rubbing off frantically like he so obviously wants to.
Pete knees Gabe in the stomach, and Gabe can tell the moment he feels Gabe's hard-on against his shin. He jumps up, backs away a few steps. "Leave Patrick the fuck alone," he says nervously and disappears onto his bus.
Not this time, then. Maybe Gabe needs a plan of attack that doesn't involve the presence of a real straight boy.