1 - 20 of 26 Works by intocooperstown
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"This is way colder than you led me to believe."
"It's not that bad once you get used to it."An evening at home spent by the pool.
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As he’s unlocking the door to their room Pete nudges him and says, “Thanks for this. You didn’t have to, like— I would’ve been fine on the bus.”
Patrick shrugs, opening the door. “Maybe. But if you could see yourself right now? I don’t think the bus would’ve been the best place for you to ride out whatever this is.”
Patrick's been feeling under the weather for a bit now, and tonight Pete's not feeling the best either. They take an extra night to rest and genuinely check-in with each other.
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“We don’t have to,” Pete continues softly, his expression morphing into something more like a comforting smile than a mask. His thumb rubs circles on the inside of Patrick’s knee. “We can watch a movie, or write— whatever you want.”
Patrick looks into Pete’s eyes, black when the bus is between streetlights and flashing amber when under one. There’s no need to do this if their other tactics will work, and there’s nothing saying they won’t at the moment.
And yet, his head is full of Pete, of the siren’s call of stripped down to our skeletons.
Patrick says, “I want you… I want you to.”
Patrick can't sleep- Pete's lyrics are keeping him up. Pete helps him by taking a page out of Patrick's book.
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It's Halloween during Tourdust, and Pete is staying in a (supposedly!) haunted hotel room.
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A sad little record into a sad big record. Even after all these years.
Big feelings after the last US Tourdust show.
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Pete knows Patrick is teasing him, and he’s not hurt by it, really— there is a reason why he cut himself off during his weird body fluid composition talk, after all. But Patrick’s thumb is rubbing over the belt of his robe, just over his waist, and Pete kind of wants to follow that line of thought again, now that they’re in private (or as private as you can get on a hotel balcony) and not on stage in front of thousands of people.
A conversation about the Riffing with Patrick on stage at Woodlands.
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Andy braces himself as Pete stutters to a halt, barely avoiding a full-on collision. Pete straightens up, his expression sobering up. “Hurley.”
Andy nods once. “Wentz.”
Pete can barely contain his smile, it breaks out on his face again immediately. He drops his duffle bag and throws his arms around Andy, tugging him into a tight hug. Andy returns it without hesitation, thumping him hard on the back as he pulls him in.College era Wentzley to soothe the soul.
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Reading his mind, Patrick says, “I missed you.”
Pete tucks his face into Patrick’s neck, breathing him in deep. It feels so fucking good to be held by someone again. Someone who knows him. Gets him. “I missed you too.” His lips brush Patrick’s skin as he says it, and he presses in closer, unashamedly nuzzling him.
Pete and Patrick come back to their hotel room after a long day of interviews and album promotion. When they go to bed, things are different between them in the best way possible.
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“Headfirst Slide” was a little bit different: Pete knew the fans had grown to love Folie, he still loves that album himself, but remembering the shows where he had to shield Patrick from being pelted by flying glow sticks still makes him wince. So Pete agreed, but it was a trial run, a test, just to see.
And fuck, it went over even better than “Calm Before the Storm.”
"Headfirst Slide" has a permanent place on the setlist. It's reawakening some not-so-buried feelings in Pete.
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“Do we have roof access?”
“What?”
“Roof access?”
Patrick says, “No, I heard you the first time. Why?”
Pete glances up at him, eyes glittering and warm as honey. “We need to celebrate. We’re going to take our own advice.”
Patrick plays the finished version of "Heartbreak Feels So Good" for Pete, and gets a bigger reaction than he expected.
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Gerard slumps back against the wall.
His stomach growls and he feels like he’s about to pass out.
He fucking hates this. He hates that he’s been holed up in the basement for god knows how long, avoiding his family, his own brother, eating nothing and seeing no sunlight and feeling sorry for himself.
He finally lifts his drink to his mouth, draining the cup in a few large swallows. He feels it immediately, sagging lower against the wall. He crushes the plastic in his hand. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back.
“Hey.”
Gerard’s eyes slide open. He turns his head.
Next to him stands a short guy with dark hair and pale skin. His brown eyes are glittering in the dingy house lights. He smiles at Gerard. “How’s it going?”
Gerard goes to a party at his brother's insistence. His night gets pretty... interesting.
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And now this guy, who he met for the first time less than a week ago, is supposed to what, babysit him in the most half-assed way possible? A part of Patrick wants to pitch a fit and tell Pete he can kindly take his mom’s money and shove it up his ass.
But Pete smiles, not showing his teeth, this lopsided grin accompanied by a warmth in his amber colored eyes that makes Patrick’s heart thump traitorously against his chest as he opens his mouth and says, “Yeah, okay, I guess.”
Patrick's mom goes out of town and recruits Pete Wentz to keep an eye on him. To his surprise, and delight, they stay friends even after their two weeks are up.
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The night Party Poison disappears, he leaves Ghoul at the hands of his concerned baby brother. He wants answers.
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Not Afraid to Walk This World Alone (But I'd Rather Not) by intocooperstown
Fandoms: My Chemical Romance
28 May 2022
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“Can’t sleep?”
Ray jumps so hard he almost drops his guitar. He turns his head and sees Gerard approaching from the other hallway. “Neither can I,” he says, plopping down on the floor next to him and crossing his legs, pressing his back to the wall as well. Ray isn’t surprised— they’re all paranoid these days.
But with Gerard here, Ray can let his eyes slide shut for a second as he tries to calm his heart beat. “You scared the shit out of me, dude.”
Or, the story of how Ray and Gerard wrote "Famous Last Words" in a haunted mansion.
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In the wake of the reunion- and, more specifically, his reunion with Patrick- Pete thinks about how he wants to move forward.
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Patrick wakes up from his nap with a crick in his neck. He can hear the captain’s muffled voice over the intercom, telling the passengers that they’ll be landing in thirty minutes. Patrick blinks a few times, straightens up, and looks out the window. It’s pitch black outside, and normally he would groan because it’s only five, but he can see the lights on the edge of Chicago coming into view and he can’t help smiling to himself.
Home.
Fill for the prompt peterick + home for the holidays!
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Andy sits up, covers falling from his shoulders. He shivers against his will, the cold creeping into him like a fog over the lake. His head doesn’t feel right, like it’s full of cotton. Andy winces as he swallows.
Shit.
He’s totally sick, isn’t he?
In which Andy has to take a sick day and his best friends take care of him.
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Patrick hasn’t let Pete hug him, touch him, weasel his way into Patrick’s space, etc. since that first, and last, reunion hug.
And Pete has no idea why.
Space by TooRational, the Pete Wentz remix.
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“It’s quite simple,” they start. “Your files have been reviewed, your lives analyzed, and the math was overwhelming, really. It was almost as if there was no point in crunching the numbers at all.” The being’s smile widens. “It’s quite sweet, if you don’t mind me saying so. I don’t get to work with a lot of long-time soulmates.”
If the being can feel the weight of what they just said, they’re unfazed by it. They don’t even blink. Patrick freezes the same second Pete does, and he chokes out, “But we weren’t together.” He glances at Pete, looks away just as quickly. “Not when we died, not ever.”
“The universe is funny like that,” the being says with a nod.
Patrick and Pete? Soulmates in the afterlife? Who would've guessed!
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Pete’s not easily scared, okay? He’s got a decent tolerance for horror movies, and it’s hard to get too freaked out when three of your best friends are piled on the couch with you, cracking jokes about how stupid the characters are, sharing a bowl of popcorn and blankets and body heat. He grew up sneaking downstairs with his brother to watch the midnight showings of Friday the 13th and Nightmare on Elm Street. To this day, he goes to the scariest haunted house he can find every Halloween, regardless of whether or not they’re on tour. A web series of scary short stories that his oldest recommended shouldn’t affect him. It shouldn’t.
Pete's anxiety starts acting up and sleeping at night gets little harder.