orgasms and cheap thrills (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} sunday_porch) wrote,@ 2006-12-23 14:53:00 |
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Read My Mind
Title: Read My Mind
Author:jzbell
Pairing: Mostly Pete and Patrick gen, although there is panicslash in the background. Because I can't ignore the canonical gay.
Rating: R
Summary: Everyone has psychic powers! But then things get confusing.
Disclaimer: Not real!
Notes: DYW SS ficlet forunlovablehands, who said "outline a stupid story where everyone has psychic powers and i'll be your new beffie!" I took her very literally! Observe: a stupid story where everyone has psychic powers. Ang probably deserves something longer and plottier and with more MCR, but alas. This is what you get.
Thanks tododger21 who read it over and told me what was more confusing than it needed to be. ♥
If you ask, Pete Wentz will tell you he could read Patrick Stump's mind the first time he met him.
If you ask, Patrick Stump will tell you it took longer for him to pick it up, but he eventually developed the corresponding talent.
*
No, really.
*
It wasn't a big deal, actually. Mostly, it was convenient, because Patrick's pretty sure it would be impossible to understand Pete Wentz without being able to see inside his head.
It's not like they had, like, actual telepathic conversations or something like that. Not exactly. It was just that whatever was in the front of Pete's mind, Patrick picked up on, and vice versa. And sure, it might have been embarrassing, if it had been anyone but Pete. Except it was Pete, and Patrick never really thought much of it.
Besides, he had it on good authority that Nick and Tyson could read each other's thoughts, too. It was just a thing some of them had, a musician thing maybe, and they pretty much all took it for granted.
*
Until the morning Patrick woke up without Pete there, and instead was disturbingly aware of what appeared to be Gerard Way's morning wood.
*
"Morning, sunshine, would you care to explain to me why I have three of the members of Panic! at the Disco in my head?" Pete asked when Patrick stumbled out.
Patrick stopped. "Three of them?"
Pete nodded. "I know, how weird is that, all four of them are, like, connected or whatever. Or well, they were, until now. I can totally hear Brendon and Spencer and Jon, and all three are getting me, too, besides each other."
"Ryan?"
"From what I can tell, Ryan's got Tyson Ritter."
Patrick blinked. "Oh, now that is just cruel."
Pete nodded vehemently, eyes wide. "So uh, yeah. What the fuck is going on?"
In his head, Patrick sensed coffee. He slumped down on a bench and rubbed his forehead.
Pete hummed, and flipped open his Sidekick.
*
"Okay, so," Pete was saying. "Gabe and William might have Mikey now, instead of Travis."
"Might?"
"Yeah, they're not sure. Apparently he doesn't think very loud."
Patrick smirked at that.
Even though actually, Gerard didn't either. Patrick had been scarily accustomed to Pete's brain. Pete thought in words, a constant stream of whole clauses, clever turns of phrase, metaphors and parenthetical asides, sometimes even punctuated (sometimes even properly). But Gerard, Patrick was learning, thought in images. He was very quiet, mostly, muted colors. Except sometimes the peace would be interrupted with a flash of something brighter, a picture so vivid it was startling. The whole thing was unnerving, and Patrick was already missing the steady cadence of Pete's internal monologue.
He had a sense of dark blue; he was making Gerard feel bad. It made Patrick feel even worse.
He sighed. "This kind of sucks."
Pete glanced at him. "Why?"
"Well, for one, you're telling me that all these guys, people we've known, have some sort of telepathic link, sometimes even connecting more than two of them, and now everyone's links are fucked up. I mean, shit, I feel like we should be making a spreadsheet."
Pete shrugged. "Probably wouldn't do much good. And come on, it's not like it's that shocking. We had it."
"Yeah, but we didn't talk about it. It was just there. And now it's not." He sighed again, but didn't continue his thought.
Pete eyed him. He didn't need a psychic connection to know there was more to it. "What is it?" he asked.
"Gerard... doesn't think the same way you do," Patrick said lamely.
"That's weird. I mean, the Panic guys really aren't that different. You're all kind of musical; rhythmic, melodies. Except, you know, there's more of them, and Brendon's definitely a little more verbal, so it can get sort of overwhelming. But sometimes they, like, harmonize."
Okay, that made Patrick smile a little, and he could tell that Gerard thought it was pretty sweet, too.
A moment later, Pete's eyes went kind of wide, no longer focusing.
Frowning, Patrick asked him, "What?"
Pete cleared his throat, a half a smile playing at his mouth. "I, uh." He stood up.
Eyebrows raised, Patrick waited.
"They're, ah. Trying to make Ryan feel better."
He grinned at Patrick. "They're pretty sure it's working."
*
All told, Gerard was surprisingly nice to have around; he mostly left Patrick alone, although Patrick did jump every time he was struck by a particularly vivid thought.
Pete, on the other hand, was alternately entertained and frustrated. "Patrick," he'd whined at one point. "I don't like this, they totally miss Ryan. It's sad." This was precisely five minutes after Pete had come out of the bathroom, looking guilty and a little flushed. Patrick just shook his head.
They discussed the possibility of, you know, doing something about it, but couldn't exactly come up with a something to do. It wasn't like they could just say to someone, "hey, usually I've got this psychic connection with my buddy here, except now I'm connected to a dude in another band, or, well, three dudes, and I'd kind of like my normal ESP back."
"I guess we'll just have to sleep on it," Pete said in a voice that suggested he might not be doing much sleeping.
Patrick shrugged. He and Gerard went to bed.
*
When he woke up, Patrick's head was buzzing, and at first he thought Pete was back.
But no, the words didn't have Pete's poetry, although there was definitely a nice rhythm...
Then Patrick realized that Brendon Urie was masturbating in the shower.
"Oh, god," he said, rolling to bury his face in the pillow.
*
Pete looked almost as pained as Patrick felt when he stumbled in to greet him. "Who is it today?" Patrick asked.
Pete hesitated, and Patrick could almost imagine him pausing a conversation in his head. "Bill. He's being a fucker, by the way."
Patrick blinked, and knew it was best not to ask. "Oh."
"You?"
"Brendon. Just Brendon, although god, I think he can carry on several threads of thought simultaneously."
"Heh, yeah, he is like that, isn't he?"
Patrick groaned. Brendon laughed at him. There was actual laughter, in his head. It was fucking bizarre.
"Great," Patrick mumbled.
*
If Gerard had been mostly pleasant, Brendon was the polar opposite. Rather than leaving Patrick alone to his thoughts, he was right there the entire time. It was kind of invasive, actually, and it made Patrick quite uncomfortable. With Pete, they would sometimes sort of communicate back and forth, but it was never like this, it never felt like a conversation, or more to the point, like someone was eavesdropping on him, even at more intimate moments. But with Brendon... it was almost like someone was constantly poking his brain, no matter what he was doing, and he really didn't appreciate it.
Fuck you too, Brendon thought cheerfully, and started singing The Killers in his head while concentrating on his video game.
Pete walked in, holding his Sidekick. "Okay, so. Nick Wheeler? Greta."
He got a girl? Brendon thought loudly, the song totally continuing in another part of his mind. That is not fair!
"How the fuck do they put up with you?" Patrick muttered aloud as Pete wandered away again. Brendon's reply came in a flurry; as far as Patrick could tell, the answer involved a lot of blowjobs.
*
"I just want us to be back to normal!" Patrick spat on the third day.
Not that Gabe was worse than Brendon, because he wasn't. He was more like Gerard actually, except the colors were brighter all the time, and the pictures mostly didn't make sense. Patrick wondered if this counted as a contact high.
Pete wasn't really complaining either, because he had Andrew McMahon, and Andrew was nothing if not zen.
"You're right though," Pete agreed, "this is getting out of hand. We've got to ask someone."
*
They asked Andy.
"...and yeah, we'd kind of like our normal ESP back. We're asking you because we figured you're the most likely to know shit like this. It seems like a comics kind of thing."
While Patrick tried not to hit Pete for including him in that "we," Andy regarded Pete like he was deciding whether to take it as a compliment or insult. Finally, he sighed. "Actually, it's not hard to figure out. Solar flares."
"You're joking," Patrick said. In his head, Gabe was expressing vague concern about ninjas hiding in the bushes somewhere outside.
Patrick decided maybe solar flares weren't that crazy after all.
"Give it another day or so. I bet everything will sort itself out. If it doesn't, come talk to me again."
*
That night, there was a faint greenish glow on the horizon.
"Northern lights," Pete said softly.
"This far south?" Patrick asked.
"Sure," Pete said. "When there's solar flares." He looked sidelong at Patrick.
"You're kidding, so Andy was right?"
"I guess we'll know for sure tomorrow. I'm going to kick his ass if I wake up hearing Brandon Flowers' thoughts, though."
*
Patrick woke slowly, a steady beat of words leading him out of sleep. He smiled, even though he felt a little silly doing it.
"Not silly," Pete told him once he'd made his way out. "Although, I gotta say, I was kind of hoping I'd wake up with Justin Timberlake in my head today."
Patrick knocked against his shoulder, and Pete grinned at him, outside and inside. Nice to have you back, too.
Title: Read My Mind
Author:
jzbellPairing: Mostly Pete and Patrick gen, although there is panicslash in the background. Because I can't ignore the canonical gay.
Rating: R
Summary: Everyone has psychic powers! But then things get confusing.
Disclaimer: Not real!
Notes: DYW SS ficlet for
unlovablehands, who said "outline a stupid story where everyone has psychic powers and i'll be your new beffie!" I took her very literally! Observe: a stupid story where everyone has psychic powers. Ang probably deserves something longer and plottier and with more MCR, but alas. This is what you get.Thanks to
dodger21 who read it over and told me what was more confusing than it needed to be. ♥If you ask, Pete Wentz will tell you he could read Patrick Stump's mind the first time he met him.
If you ask, Patrick Stump will tell you it took longer for him to pick it up, but he eventually developed the corresponding talent.
No, really.
It wasn't a big deal, actually. Mostly, it was convenient, because Patrick's pretty sure it would be impossible to understand Pete Wentz without being able to see inside his head.
It's not like they had, like, actual telepathic conversations or something like that. Not exactly. It was just that whatever was in the front of Pete's mind, Patrick picked up on, and vice versa. And sure, it might have been embarrassing, if it had been anyone but Pete. Except it was Pete, and Patrick never really thought much of it.
Besides, he had it on good authority that Nick and Tyson could read each other's thoughts, too. It was just a thing some of them had, a musician thing maybe, and they pretty much all took it for granted.
Until the morning Patrick woke up without Pete there, and instead was disturbingly aware of what appeared to be Gerard Way's morning wood.
"Morning, sunshine, would you care to explain to me why I have three of the members of Panic! at the Disco in my head?" Pete asked when Patrick stumbled out.
Patrick stopped. "Three of them?"
Pete nodded. "I know, how weird is that, all four of them are, like, connected or whatever. Or well, they were, until now. I can totally hear Brendon and Spencer and Jon, and all three are getting me, too, besides each other."
"Ryan?"
"From what I can tell, Ryan's got Tyson Ritter."
Patrick blinked. "Oh, now that is just cruel."
Pete nodded vehemently, eyes wide. "So uh, yeah. What the fuck is going on?"
In his head, Patrick sensed coffee. He slumped down on a bench and rubbed his forehead.
Pete hummed, and flipped open his Sidekick.
"Okay, so," Pete was saying. "Gabe and William might have Mikey now, instead of Travis."
"Might?"
"Yeah, they're not sure. Apparently he doesn't think very loud."
Patrick smirked at that.
Even though actually, Gerard didn't either. Patrick had been scarily accustomed to Pete's brain. Pete thought in words, a constant stream of whole clauses, clever turns of phrase, metaphors and parenthetical asides, sometimes even punctuated (sometimes even properly). But Gerard, Patrick was learning, thought in images. He was very quiet, mostly, muted colors. Except sometimes the peace would be interrupted with a flash of something brighter, a picture so vivid it was startling. The whole thing was unnerving, and Patrick was already missing the steady cadence of Pete's internal monologue.
He had a sense of dark blue; he was making Gerard feel bad. It made Patrick feel even worse.
He sighed. "This kind of sucks."
Pete glanced at him. "Why?"
"Well, for one, you're telling me that all these guys, people we've known, have some sort of telepathic link, sometimes even connecting more than two of them, and now everyone's links are fucked up. I mean, shit, I feel like we should be making a spreadsheet."
Pete shrugged. "Probably wouldn't do much good. And come on, it's not like it's that shocking. We had it."
"Yeah, but we didn't talk about it. It was just there. And now it's not." He sighed again, but didn't continue his thought.
Pete eyed him. He didn't need a psychic connection to know there was more to it. "What is it?" he asked.
"Gerard... doesn't think the same way you do," Patrick said lamely.
"That's weird. I mean, the Panic guys really aren't that different. You're all kind of musical; rhythmic, melodies. Except, you know, there's more of them, and Brendon's definitely a little more verbal, so it can get sort of overwhelming. But sometimes they, like, harmonize."
Okay, that made Patrick smile a little, and he could tell that Gerard thought it was pretty sweet, too.
A moment later, Pete's eyes went kind of wide, no longer focusing.
Frowning, Patrick asked him, "What?"
Pete cleared his throat, a half a smile playing at his mouth. "I, uh." He stood up.
Eyebrows raised, Patrick waited.
"They're, ah. Trying to make Ryan feel better."
He grinned at Patrick. "They're pretty sure it's working."
All told, Gerard was surprisingly nice to have around; he mostly left Patrick alone, although Patrick did jump every time he was struck by a particularly vivid thought.
Pete, on the other hand, was alternately entertained and frustrated. "Patrick," he'd whined at one point. "I don't like this, they totally miss Ryan. It's sad." This was precisely five minutes after Pete had come out of the bathroom, looking guilty and a little flushed. Patrick just shook his head.
They discussed the possibility of, you know, doing something about it, but couldn't exactly come up with a something to do. It wasn't like they could just say to someone, "hey, usually I've got this psychic connection with my buddy here, except now I'm connected to a dude in another band, or, well, three dudes, and I'd kind of like my normal ESP back."
"I guess we'll just have to sleep on it," Pete said in a voice that suggested he might not be doing much sleeping.
Patrick shrugged. He and Gerard went to bed.
When he woke up, Patrick's head was buzzing, and at first he thought Pete was back.
But no, the words didn't have Pete's poetry, although there was definitely a nice rhythm...
Then Patrick realized that Brendon Urie was masturbating in the shower.
"Oh, god," he said, rolling to bury his face in the pillow.
Pete looked almost as pained as Patrick felt when he stumbled in to greet him. "Who is it today?" Patrick asked.
Pete hesitated, and Patrick could almost imagine him pausing a conversation in his head. "Bill. He's being a fucker, by the way."
Patrick blinked, and knew it was best not to ask. "Oh."
"You?"
"Brendon. Just Brendon, although god, I think he can carry on several threads of thought simultaneously."
"Heh, yeah, he is like that, isn't he?"
Patrick groaned. Brendon laughed at him. There was actual laughter, in his head. It was fucking bizarre.
"Great," Patrick mumbled.
If Gerard had been mostly pleasant, Brendon was the polar opposite. Rather than leaving Patrick alone to his thoughts, he was right there the entire time. It was kind of invasive, actually, and it made Patrick quite uncomfortable. With Pete, they would sometimes sort of communicate back and forth, but it was never like this, it never felt like a conversation, or more to the point, like someone was eavesdropping on him, even at more intimate moments. But with Brendon... it was almost like someone was constantly poking his brain, no matter what he was doing, and he really didn't appreciate it.
Fuck you too, Brendon thought cheerfully, and started singing The Killers in his head while concentrating on his video game.
Pete walked in, holding his Sidekick. "Okay, so. Nick Wheeler? Greta."
He got a girl? Brendon thought loudly, the song totally continuing in another part of his mind. That is not fair!
"How the fuck do they put up with you?" Patrick muttered aloud as Pete wandered away again. Brendon's reply came in a flurry; as far as Patrick could tell, the answer involved a lot of blowjobs.
"I just want us to be back to normal!" Patrick spat on the third day.
Not that Gabe was worse than Brendon, because he wasn't. He was more like Gerard actually, except the colors were brighter all the time, and the pictures mostly didn't make sense. Patrick wondered if this counted as a contact high.
Pete wasn't really complaining either, because he had Andrew McMahon, and Andrew was nothing if not zen.
"You're right though," Pete agreed, "this is getting out of hand. We've got to ask someone."
They asked Andy.
"...and yeah, we'd kind of like our normal ESP back. We're asking you because we figured you're the most likely to know shit like this. It seems like a comics kind of thing."
While Patrick tried not to hit Pete for including him in that "we," Andy regarded Pete like he was deciding whether to take it as a compliment or insult. Finally, he sighed. "Actually, it's not hard to figure out. Solar flares."
"You're joking," Patrick said. In his head, Gabe was expressing vague concern about ninjas hiding in the bushes somewhere outside.
Patrick decided maybe solar flares weren't that crazy after all.
"Give it another day or so. I bet everything will sort itself out. If it doesn't, come talk to me again."
That night, there was a faint greenish glow on the horizon.
"Northern lights," Pete said softly.
"This far south?" Patrick asked.
"Sure," Pete said. "When there's solar flares." He looked sidelong at Patrick.
"You're kidding, so Andy was right?"
"I guess we'll know for sure tomorrow. I'm going to kick his ass if I wake up hearing Brandon Flowers' thoughts, though."
Patrick woke slowly, a steady beat of words leading him out of sleep. He smiled, even though he felt a little silly doing it.
"Not silly," Pete told him once he'd made his way out. "Although, I gotta say, I was kind of hoping I'd wake up with Justin Timberlake in my head today."
Patrick knocked against his shoulder, and Pete grinned at him, outside and inside. Nice to have you back, too.
