Spin For You [Peterick]

-49-

[A/N: ...smut...]

Dear Patrick,

Lots of things have happened since our last date. I say lots, I mean, like two things, and both of them happened yesterday. One was a lot more fun than the other.

So you know how we used to be in that band that won awards and had fans and stuff? Yeah. We suck.

Like, not even aw-don't-be-so-hard-on-yourself kind of suck, we really, truly suck. A lot.

We had our first ever actual practice yesterday, and it went bad. If I wasn't playing bass, I would've put my fingers in my ears. We were all over the place, Joe kept stopping 'cause he didn't know which part of the song came next, and you'd shout at him, then you'd fuck the words up and he'd shout at you, and we couldn't get the sounds to go like they used to be, then the mic went weird and we pretty much gave up.

Me and Andy just sort of watched everything go to shit, because we'd actually practised, rolling our eyes as you kids squabbled over chord progressions.

After several attempts at Sugar, we decided to call it a day, otherwise somebody was gonna end up with a black eye.

We started to pack up, as much as we needed to anyway, we were gonna be back there tomorrow, solemnly turning off amps and placing guitars back in their cases. We were at Andy's house, 'cause he was the only one with a drum kit set up, and also the only one who was willing to have his basement subjected to four short, angry men.

Me and you left the other two down there while we headed up to the hall, deflated and sighing.

"I just can't believe we were that bad," you'd shrugged as you put your shoes on. "That was some class-A shit right there."

"I know. But, I'm sure it'll be better tomorrow, when people are a bit less...tetchy." By sure, I meant very very unsure, by better I meant hopefully slightly less completely crap, by tetchy I meant ready to rip each other's faces off and by people I meant you.

You ran your fingers through your hair, growling. "But we're awful! No-one remembers anything, it's ridiculous!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, me and Andy remember pretty much everything."

"Oh, just shift the blame why don't you," you tutted, wrestling with your jacket.

"I dunno, I just think that as the singer, it would be good if you knew at least some of the words."

"Shut up! I do know the words," you insisted, batting my arm.

"Mumbling incoherent sounds into the microphone and hoping nobody notices does not count as knowing the words."

"Well I – listen, you – ugh," you finished, giving up on whatever sentence that was gonna be.

Laughing at you, I gave you a pat on the head and pranced further down the hall, avoiding your swatting hands. "Get back here, you ass," you snapped, chasing after me.

I turned around just in time to catch you as you hurtled into me, cuddling you tight as you attempted to exert your wrath.

"Hey – Pete – let go, I'm trying to be angry – Pete!"

Squeezing you one last time, I put you back on the floor, smiling angelically into your scowl. "Hey, cheer up, or I'll kiss you."

Your glare deepened, but I saw you bite back a grin. "Well then, I guess you'll just have to kiss me."