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The moment keeps flashing over again and again in Joe’s mind, Pete sauntering over to his side of the stage during ‘Dance Dance’, their guitar and bass nearly closing the distance between them. It was enough for Joe to feel a hint of Pete’s warmth. Not to mention Pete reaching over to strum Joe’s guitar, looking at him with those warm, whiskey-hot eyes.
What did it all mean? Joe had been wondering for hours, sitting in his own hotel bedroom. His eyes burned, tearstreaks marking his face. It felt like he could have melted a hole in the ceiling with the way he was staring at it.
With the hotels nowadays, it wasn't likewhen they lived paycheck to paycheck, sleeping on friends' grimy carpets or nudged up against one another in the back of their tour van. This was the real deal. They’ve gone big now, commercial, almost.
So why was Pete only just deciding to start this up again? They had, of course, had their little gay escapades when they were young adults, but they just dumbed that down to stupid teenage hormones, who wouldn’t? It got Joe thinking that maybe Pete had always been into him. He’s seen the way Pete looks at him, those brown eyes admiring his calloused hands as he fingers the fretboard on stage. He just thought it was the Pete Wentz effect, you know? His charismatic presence, or whatever.
This time felt like it lay a bit deeper beneath the surface. It wasn’t like they were teenagers anymore; it isn’t like they could pass it off as experimentation. This was real and raw. Joe could see it, but thinking about it made his brain fill with sludge.
He could call Pete up right now, asking, “What are we?” and hang up. He could shoot him a text, “Hey, are you still gay for me or was that just a stage persona?”
Before he could make a decision, his body made one for him, apparently. It couldn’t handle it anymore. He found himself in an out-of-body experience, feeling himself walking in a mechanical fashion out of his hotel room and shuffling to Pete’s own respective room and knocking on the door. His palms were sweaty, clutched to his sides. Joe wiped his clammy hands on the denim of his jeans he hadn’t bothered to change out of yet.
Raising his hand to go knock again, the door swung open. It’s almost as if Joe’s stepped right up to the gates of heaven; the beauty standing before him is so ethereal. Pete is shirtless and in tartan pyjama pants, his chest hair and golden-toned abs glowing in the light of the doorway. Pete’s crown of thorns tattoo glistens with water. His hair is down and wet, and what’s that smell? He must’ve just washed his hair.
Pete’s long eyelashes bat at him, dizzyingly beautiful. Joe’s heart leaps to his throat, but before he can stop himself and turn around on his heel, the words come tumbling out.
“Pete, what was that on stage earlier?” His heart is thumping in his chest, pounding against his ribcage. Pete wipes his eyes sleepily.
“What do you mean? The guitar thing?” Joe’s brow furrows. No shit. Of course, it was about that. What else?
Joe’s eyes glaze over, dejectedly. “Yeah. Did that mean anything to you?” Joe bounces on the balls of his feet, staring at him almost expectantly. Pete’s eyes won’t meet his anymore. He shifts, weirdly, staring at the curly-haired boy in his doorway.
“Did it mean something to you?” His eyes divert to the floor. Guilty.
Joe was becoming frustrated. He wished Pete would just cut to the chase and reject him. Joe screws his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose while thinking of what to say. “Just tell me something, anything.”
“Okay, fine, you got me.” Pete piped up. The warm lighting of the hotel makes a spark of gold bounce across Pete’s irises, accenting his brown eyes.
What? Got him? What nonsense was Pete spewing now?
“I dunno, man. I didn’t only want to do that for shits and giggles. I wanted to do it to feel closer to you on stage.” He smiles.
“You know, we’re always on the opposite side of the stage nowadays. I felt a bit lonely.”
Joe blinks, disbelief dawning on his face.
“What do you mean by all of this, Pete?”
“I’ve felt a bit lonely for a while. I realised tonight that what I was missing was you. I missed your face snuggled in the crook of my neck in the back of our fucked-up tour van. I miss the heat of your body pressed against me in the back seat during the winter. I miss you.”
His ears are ringing, and he clutches the doorframe, steadying himself. Joe’s breathing becomes heavy, short and fast-paced. The feeling of relief spreads down his body. But it is replaced just as fast with the feeling of nervousness. What if he fucks up his one actual shot with Pete? The kid who gave him a chance to fill in for bass that one time, and they had been friends since?
“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t want to rush you or anything.” Joe finally chokes out.
Pete waves his hand, dismissing Joe’s freakout, “No, it’s totally fine. I get it. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Right then and there, Joe leans closer in the doorway, closing the gap between him and Pete. He quickly, and very awkwardly, pecks a kiss onto Pete’s lips. Why? To see how Pete would react, Joe guessed. Even he didn’t know why he had reacted that way.
Besides, Joe wasn’t given all that much time to dwell on it before Pete’s hands were wrapped around Joe’s waist, pulling him inside the hotel room. Pete kicked the door shut and held him close, placing a careful, placid kiss to Joe’s cheek. Pete earned a nice, rosy glow from him, Joe blushing under the bright lights.
Joe’s body moved instinctively on its own, craving more. He pulled Pete closer than close, their bodies pressed up against one another. Pete brought his mouth down, resting on an especially fleshy part of Joe’s neck and peppering kisses on it before sucking a mauve bruise into his neck, drawing a quiet moan from Joe’s lips.
Joe backs up for a moment, “We’re not doing anything, right? Not yet, at least.”
Pete nods, “Of course, we’re not jumping straight in the deep end, I promise. It’ll all be set at a comfortable pace. I wouldn’t make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”
Joe grins, relief prickling at his lips. He rests a hand on the back of Pete’s neck and draws him closer. They interlock lips, the soft of Pete’s versus the rough of Joe’s clashing. It’s like they were built for each other. Opposites attract. They felt like they were back at home, those 20 something odd years ago, getting hot and heavy in the back of the band’s van.
Pete slots a hand into Joe’s hair, scratching at his scalp. His eyes flutter under Pete’s touch, and he becomes breathless and floaty. Joe had never felt something so nice. He lets himself pull away before taking an experimental nibble on the side of Pete’s neck. He groans under Joe’s lips before Joe sinks his teeth deeper, earning a choked whimper.
“Fuck… you didn’t forget.” Pete chuckled, his grasp tightening in Joe’s hair.
“How could I? Making out is how we passed the time when we weren’t busy with tours or getting chicks.” Joe places a kiss on Pete’s jaw, grinning against it. “Trying to, at least.”
Pete pulls away, the heat from him no longer encapsulating Joe. Joe huffs a little from the loss.
“Do you want to stay in my room tonight? It’s a big enough bed for the two of us.” Pete mumbles, fidgeting with his nails nervously.
His eyes lit up; they hadn’t cuddled in years. He missed the warmth emanating from Pete. The soft skin of his chest. The pitter-patter of his heartbeat that would pump in rhythm to Joe’s. Their legs intertwined. Their breath that would thaw out the cold faces of one another in the winter.
“I’d love that.” Joe grins as he places a hand on the small of Pete’s back while they walk to the bed. Joe strips off his uncomfortable jeans and shimmies his way out of them, looking around nervously, seeking to find the judgment radiating off of Pete. But he didn’t mind. He just looked at him endearingly, enough so that Joe could nearly see love hearts in Pete’s eyes. Pete wasn’t focused on anything but Joe himself, not his body. It made him feel loved.
They shut off the bright lamps and overhead lighting and scooched under the covers. Joe crawled under Pete’s arm and up to his collarbone, nuzzling his way into the small of his neck, his ringlets of curls tickling Pete.
Placing a kiss on Joe’s head, he shut his eyes.
He wished he could fall asleep as easily as Joe, who was now gripping onto Pete’s waist like it was a lifebuoy and he was drowning. But he couldn’t.
At least he wasn’t stuck with his own bad thoughts tonight. He was stuck with ideas on how he could show his appreciation for Joe and their friendship in words. Well, a relationship, of sorts, now. But he was happy. And he was happy that Joe was happy.
Pete fell asleep a while after, grinning against Joe’s hair. Maybe when they woke up, they could go out for a nice breakfast, just the two of them.