a/n // i actually do ship petekey yall pls chill
mayyyybe a future onshot series??
insp. track - do i wanna know? // arctic monkeys
- x -
The cold air bit around the hollows of his cheeks, coloring them shades of red and pink as he checked his watch for the thousandth time, a loose cigarette dangling from between his teeth. He sighed almost delicately, brushing down his off-white shirt with one hand, the other searching his pocket for a light.
"You're later than usual."
A lithing voice interrupts him; his dark eyes stare up long legs, a stick-thin torso and meet unimpressed hazel eyes.
"Sorry, babe." He laughs flirtatiously around the cigarette, his eyelids batting with a blink against the harsh headlight gleam of a dirty car passing by.
"I dreamt about you." He mumbles in response, lips curling upwards as he leans against the wall. "Every night this week." He leans forward as he speaks, his lips hot with a dirty secret he wouldn't dare share with anyone else.
He snickers in response. "I'm not worthy. I just crawl back to you." He doesn't quite push him away, but there's a lingering discomfort between them, a reacing distance between two people once in love.
"Pete-"
"Save it, Mikey. I'm here. What else do you want?" He rolls his eyes as Mikey leans further in, a hand hovering above the hip closest to him as Pete finally drags out his lighter. He watches Mikey's ghostly pale complexion gleam under the light of the now-illuminated flame, making sharp angles appear gaunt, giving him an impression of being deader than the roadkill Pete's 90% sure Mikey's brother probably collects and stuffs. He takes a drag, suckling all of the cancerous smoke and resists the urge to blow it in the other man's face; instead, a breathy exhale into the musky Chicago skyline expels the rest of the smoke, and he sighs, the familiar burn of him already kiling his insides at barely twenty-eight settling in. "Do I wanna know?"
"Depends." Mikey's eyebrows furrow, the dark brunette contrasting with the not-at-all natural bleach blond that he's been sporting since the summer. It's late March now, but what was once an impulse decision has stayed. "How many secrets can you keep?"
"Stop with the cryptic bullshit, Mikey. Does this.. this feeling flow both ways? I'm constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you - and, and.." He breathes in more smoke, and watches Mikey's legs cross, leaning with his back against the wall. His eyes say "fuck me later", but his expression says "can I bum a cigarette?" - both things Pete would probably agree to. "We could be together." He sighs, and although he hates admitting it, it's true. Mikey may be known to be a bit of a slut, but he's not untouchable, as such. He's just got a bad image from the jealous boys like Gabe and Alex who really wanna know if the rumors about Mikey's lingerie kink are true.
(They are, by the way.)
"I don't know." Mikey admits. His hair falls into his face, eyelids closed and head titled to the muggy sky. Pete takes another drag, and maps Mikey's face with his eyes, trying desperately to remember every sharp angle and curve as Mikey sighs dejectedly, lips parting in a forlorn mislaid exhale.
Pete snubbs the cigarette under the heel of his boot. He can tell from Mikey's expression that there will be no fucking tonight, and dejectedly comes to the realization that his excuse to be here - with Mikey - is therefore invalid. Mikey watches the embers of the cigarette die, as Pete pauses to fix his jacket.
He has a girlfriend at home, anyway.
"Can't leave her waiting," He explains to Mikey's crestfallen expression, "plus, kids need feeding." Mikey looks unbearably salty at the mention of Pete's four and nine year old sons, but keeps it to himself. He leans up in a faked stretch instead, revealing a tangle of black lace curling from the waistband of his black jeans, eyes low, dark and dangerous as he dares Pete to stay. He doesn't even pause buttoning up his jacket.
For a moment, thoughts of his boys, Bronx and Saint, flood back to him, and Pete really wishes things were different. Better off. In another time, Mikey and him could've been something for real - together. But, unfortunately, reality wasn't as sentimental as him.
"I was kinda hoping that you'd stay." Mikey mumbles. Pete shoots him a disgustingly sympathetic grin instead.
"The nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day."
