Pete's excited. Pete's fucking ecstatic. His long-ass tour has just ended and he'd found himself on a plane to New Jersey before Patrick even had a chance to blink.
Or remind Pete that they were meant to be working on their next album as soon as they got back from Europe. Also, Pete might have accidentally forgotten to turn his phone back on once the plane was in the air. Completely unintentional, of course. And so Pete's off to see his very own Mikey Way. Well sure, he'd dumped the kid at the end of Warped but after three and half months in Europe he's ready settle down for a while. Maybe even a year this time! Yeah. Mikey's one lucky bastard. Pete can't say that he doesn't envy him.
One can imagine Pete's delight when Mikey opens the door in only a pair of boxers and displaying a severe case of bed-head. They're his Peter Pan boxers and Pete is suddenly certain that Mikey was made aware of Pete's future visit by some cosmic force and that is the reason for his attire.
Except that Mikey looks really confused that Pete's randomly standing outside of his apartment. "Didn't you guys just get back from Europe like-" Mikey shades his eyes and looks at the sun behind Pete. "
Yesterday?" Pete shrugs and leers at Mikey.
"Well, I happened to be in the area and thought I'd drop in for a conjugal visit with New Jersey's official sex-god." Mikey laughs. As though he believes that Pete's joking.
"Oh, haven't you heard? I relinquished that title. One night convinced me I didn't deserve it." He tries to shake his head sadly but ends up smiling dazedly instead. Pete's confused but goes with the flow. "You can come in, if you want. Although, we weren't really planning on getting out of bed today."
Now Pete's simply floored. His evil, monogamous plot comes to a screeching, shattering halt. "We?" Just then a distinctly masculine voice comes from the bedroom.
"¿Se hizo usted perdido?!" And Pete knows that husky, accented Spanish. Would know that voice just about anywhere.
"You fiend!" He hisses under his breath in the direction of the bedroom. Mikey smiles and wanders toward it to tell Gabe they have a visitor. He's stopped short when Gabe; in all of his naked glory, bursts through the open doorway and presses Mikey against the wall. For once, the awkward-kneed bassist is dwarfed by someone. He seems to be enjoying it. As Gabe lowers his lips to take Mikey's hungrily, Pete's plan deletes itself as a safety measure. There's no way he's getting into a threesome that involves his best guy friend. No way. There are just certain lines that no bro will cross.
Such is Pete's shock and horror that he is unable to move until Mikey's boxers are on the floor, his legs are around Gabe's waist, and
'Holy shit. Are they really
?' Mikey's loud moan of pleasure tells Pete that yes, indeed they are. He chokes back the vomit and runs to the front hall, leaving a note with his hotel name and room number for Mikey on a spare piece of paper.
As the front door slams shut and Gabe breaks the skin on Mikey's neck to distract him from the sudden departure, Gabe grins. Pete's evil plot may have failed, but Gabe's was an unprecedented success. Only huge territorial displays can make it through Pete Wentz's thick skull when he's determined about something. Mikey stiffens and then goes limp in Gabe's arms, gasping. Gabe's grin evolves into a smirk as the wall is abused twice more and his own knees weaken. His property is officially marked.
He looks down at a sleepy Mikey Way, eyes already half-shut, and carries him gently into the bedroom. He lays down himself and pulls the unprotesting body into his arms, keeping him warm and surrounded. "Wha' tha'?" Mikey slurs.
"Nothing to worry about, Mikey."