The first thing Mikey did when he saw Pete Wentz was look away, which was why the first thing Pete did when he saw Mikey Way was kick him in the shins.

"You're not a soccer ball," Pete announced, grinning widely.

Mikey blinked.

"It's too bad dweeb-kicking's not a sport."

Mikey yawned.

Pete frowned. "I'll see you around, nerd," he said, and walked off. It was totally impressive, though not as good as it would be tomorrow. He could never assemble his posse in time for the first day. Posse-less, his strut just wasn't as good.

It didn't matter, though, because when he glanced back, Mikey wasn't even watching. He was going to pay, Pete decided, and sulked off to class.

||

"What's shaking, guys?" Pete plopped down next to Andy. "It feels so good to have my posse back."

"Stop calling us that. And back off my apple sauce," Andy added, stabbing Pete's hand with his plastic fork.

"What should I call you then, my crew? My minions?"

"How about your friends?" Joe sat down on Pete's other side. "Or is that too, like, square?"

"You live in the sixties. Patrick, Patrick." Pete nudged Patrick's shin with his foot. "Joe lives in the sixties."

Patrick kicked Pete hard and didn't look up from the paper he was staring at. "Why do I care?"

"Because that's – motherfuck. Mikey Way."

"Leave him alone, Pete," Patrick said, making a mark on the paper.

"But he - "

"Leave. Him. Alone."

Patrick was kind of a shitty posse member. Pete glared, but went back to counting the number of noodles he could cram in the little cardboard milk carton.

||

Mikey had Goldfish. They were nice, all new and crunchy. He was supposed to be in third period, but third period was Chemistry and it was boring, so he was in the bathroom, instead.

The bathroom was pretty boring too, though. Mikey swung his legs and ate another Goldfish, waiting for something interesting to happen.

The door swung open; Mikey lifted his legs so no one would see him being a delinquent. "Good," someone muttered, and then the stall next to Mikey clicked shut.

Mikey made a face, but instead of the sounds of someone taking a shit, there was pretty obvious rustling and heavy breathing. It was kind of typical, he thought as he stared at the bathroom wall, that something interesting would happen and he wouldn't even be able to see.

He could picture it, though. No faces or anything, just a hand around a dick, jacking steadily. The thought made him bite his lip, wishing he could move at least a little – not even to stand on the toilet and see, but to press a hand against himself, to get off right there on the sounds instead of later on the memories.

But he didn't even have a chance to try. The rustling stopped, and whoever it was moaned so quietly Mikey almost thought he'd imagined it. He shrank back against the stall as the guy stood up, turned the water on, and then left a few minutes later.

When he opened the door, the bathroom was empty.

Weird, he thought, and sent another Goldfish to its doom.

||

Mikey didn't really worry about his habit of thinking about cock when he jerked off. He figured it might get him beat up in school if he ever told anyone about it, but to hear Gerard talk he'd get beat up anyway. And guys were fun to think about, on the whole.

Two nights after Pete Wentz cornered him, Mikey squirted some lotion on his hand and thought about the way Pete's lips had curled, sneering at him. He thought it would be nice to get Pete's mouth around his cock – it would make him be quiet, even. Mikey jerked off a little harder, mind stuck on Pete's eyes looking up at him, a hand curved around his hip or his ass, definitely his ass, Pete would push for more than Mikey had given before...

He came quickly and cleaned up automatically. He could probably go again, but it had been a long day and his English teacher had threatened him with detention if he fell asleep again, so instead he just rolled over and closed his eyes, doing his best to fight off insomnia.

||

The thing that pretty much no one would get was that he couldn't not bug the kid, not when he was wandering around with a Discman and funny hair like the biggest loser-reject in the world.

"Hey Mikey Way, nice gym shorts. Bet they don't hide the boners you get when you run with the guys."

Mikey stopped and blinked at Pete. He looked really confused, but Pete knew Mikey'd heard him, because he only had one earbud in. "That doesn't make sense," he said finally. "I'm not thinking about sex when I run."

Pete always did. "Why not? Scared you'll come all over the track?"

"Things would flop," Mikey said, and put the other earbud in.

Which meant - "Hey!" Pete grabbed the Discman. "Hey! You can't wear boxers with gym shorts! Weirdo."

Mikey was slowly turning red. Pete waved the Discman and watched him get even brighter.

Unfortunately, they were interrupted before Pete had a chance to make his head, like, explode. "Not everyone has your fetish for tighty-whiteys, Pete," Andy said.

Pete leered. "I don't know about you, Hurley, but I like to go commando. And the ladies know it."

"Can I have my Discman back now, please," Mikey said quietly.

Andy crossed his arms and glared. Pete liked teasing, but it was kind of obvious when Andy was pissed and wanted to punch his head, so he rolled his eyes and gave the Discman back to Mikey. "Tell Garry hi for me," he said. "He was totally my favorite fag."

"Pete."

Pete grinned, flipped Hurley off, and started running before he had a chance to stomp Pete's feet with his badass boots.

||

"Douche," Gerard said. "Total douche, oh my God, I'm so sorry you have to put up with him. Douche."

Mikey chewed a Twizzler thoughtfully. "I guess," he said finally. "How's art school?"

"It's fun. We draw a lot of naked chicks. Seriously, is he harassing you?"

He had to think for a minute. Because yeah, Pete was pretty much harassing him, except he didn't really feel harassed. It wasn't like he was getting his head stuck in a toilet, or anything. "I don't know. Maybe?"

"It's a pretty straightforward question, Mikes."

"Then no. I guess," Mikey said.

Outside, something splattered. "Ma?" Mikey called, but he knew before he bothered looking outside that her she wasn't back yet.

"What?"

"Hang on," Mikey said, and put the phone down.

He didn't bother with a baseball bat or anything, since the only way he could beat up a robber would be with superstrength, and if he suddenly turned into Buffy he wouldn't need the bat anyway. Luckily, though, it wasn't a robber.

"Hi," he said, right when Pete threw another egg.

"...shit," Pete said.

The egg dribbled down Mikey's stomach and onto his jeans. "That kind of hurt." It did, too; his entire stomach was stinging.

Pete was also staring at his crotch. Mikey watched him swallow hard. "I...sorry?"

Mikey hadn't slept much for going on three days. Everything was a little blurry around the edges, and he couldn't think of anything to say to Pete.

"Please don't call my mom," Pete said, eyes widening. He was still staring at parts of Mikey that weren't his face, though.

"...he goes by Gerard now."

Pete blinked, finally looking Mikey in the eye. "What?"

"Garry." Mikey rolled his eyes. "Like, who uses two r's? But yeah. Gerard."

"That's nice," Pete said. "Seriously, are you going to call the cops?"

"I'm a little drunk," Mikey said. "So no. Whatever."

"Whatever," Pete echoed. "Right."

Mikey swiped a hand over his jeans, making a face. The egg was totally slimy. Gross.

"...I'm gonna go now," Pete said, and ran away.

||

The next day, Pete stood straight up from Patrick's lap, marched over to Mikey's table, and dumped a bowl of nasty cafeteria spaghetti right on his head.

Mikey didn't say anything, just looked at him like the giant freak he was until the lunch monitor came over. Pete got detention for a week. It was totally, completely, a hundred percent worth it.

||

Mikey avoided Pete for the next few weeks, because he figured if he was Pete and as pissed all the time as Pete seemed to be, running into Mikey would be like an open invitation to punch him in the nose. Mikey was bad at bleeding.

Unfortunately, it was only possible to avoid a person determined to torture you for so long.

"Freak," Pete said, and shoved him against the wall of the bathroom. "What the fuck are you doing in here?"

Oh. "Oh," Mikey said. "It was you who jacked off that one time."

He didn't deserve the punch to the stomach, but it was pretty predictable all the same. Mikey wheezed, trying to get his breath back, not wasting any air on moving away yet.

When he looked up, Pete was staring. "Move," he said. "Fucking move, asshole, I just hit you!"

"Um." Mikey breathed carefully. "Yeah. Please don't do it again."

Pete turned and ran out of the bathroom. Mikey leaned back against the wall, moving a hand to his stomach and waiting for the bell.

||

"I'm going to kill him!" Pete said, and kicked the ball so hard it flew over the top of the net.

"Kill whoever you want, Wentz, but do it on your own time." The coach glared. "Two laps."

"Fuck you too!" Pete yelled, and the coach benched him.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck," he said, kicking the dirt. "Fucking Mikey Way. Fucking freak. Motherfucking - "

"You could just leave him alone, you know."

Pete glared at Patrick. "No one asked you!"

"Pete." Patrick sat next to him on the bench, looking as annoyed as Patrick generally could without kicking a soft part of Pete's body. "You're being an asshole."

"I'm not," Pete said. Patrick didn't understand. He thought Mikey was kind of nice, the traitor. "He was in the bathroom while I was getting off!"

"It's not his fault you're a horndog freak." Patrick pinched his arm hard. "Leave him alone."

Patrick didn't understand, and for the first time, Pete had no idea how to make him get it. "But - "

"Pete, I'm not going to say it again."

Patrick pissed at him was pretty much the worst thing in the world. "Fine," he said. "I'll try. He's just – he's fucking hard to ignore, Patrick. He's obnoxious and funny-looking."

Patrick did the thing with his face that Pete knew meant he was missing something. "You're a moron," Patrick said, but he didn't sound mad or anything, just kind of amused. Pete crossed his eyes so Patrick would at least have something to laugh at.

"Whatever," he said finally. "I'll be good. Or try. Okay?"

"Uh-huh." Patrick stood, hefting his trumpet case. "I've got practice. Your house tonight?"

"Duh." Pete couldn't keep from grinning. "Geek."

"Jock," Patrick said, flicking Pete's forehead.

Pete bobbed his head to himself as Patrick walked off. Leave Mikey Way alone, right. He could totally do that without even breaking a sweat.

||

Jerking off to Pete wasn't routine; Mikey just did it every night. He figured he'd eventually get tired of the images and quit, but in the meantime, they made him come, and it was fun.

Then Pete started avoiding him.

It wasn't that he missed being teased and threatened, because no one actually liked that stuff. But school was a lot more boring now. Even being in the bathroom sucked, because he knew what wasn't going to happen now.

"I don't know," he told Gerard, staring at his ceiling. "It's like, at least there was something unpredictable? And now there's not."

"You miss him. That's gross, Mikey."

"I don't miss him." Mikey rolled his eyes. "I just miss, like. The excitement, I guess. And sometimes he was kind of funny." The other day he'd tripped over his own feet running after stealing Mikey's backpack.

"...right," Gerard said. "So I met this guy."

Mikey leaned back into his pillows and listened to Gerard talk, more than happy to let the subject change.

||

The most important thing about the whole event was that it totally, completely, definitely wasn't Pete's fault.

He'd been walking along, totally fine with trying to stick his hand down Joe's pants and counting the squeaks Joe made, when Mikey rounded the corner and smiled at him.

Or, okay, not at him, but it could have been him. Pete had no way of knowing. Which was why he walked faster, bashing into Mikey and knocking all his books to the ground.

Mikey was just as chicken as usual. He didn't even say anything, just knelt down and started picking his stuff up again. Pete had his mouth open to make fun of him when someone lifted him up and threw him into the wall.

"BOB!" Patrick yelled, but then Pete was being whirled around and a huge, mad red face was in his.

"Do that again, and I'll cut your fucking balls off," the guy said.

Pete squeaked. It wasn't his most manly moment, but Jesus, what the fuck?

"Bob." Patrick's hand materialized. Pete had to blink to make sure it was real. "Bob, put him down."

"Please," Andy added.

"Urk," Pete croaked.

Bob narrowed his eyes. His face was still really fucking red, Pete thought, heaving in a breath when Bob finally put him down.

"Thanks, man," he said, but Bob just turned and went to Mikey, so Pete decided to throw himself on Patrick, instead.

"Kind savior!" he yelled.

Patrick slammed him into the wall, hand around his neck. "Stop being an asshole," he said, stomping Pete's foot hard.

"Fuck! What the fuck, that's betrayal, it wasn't my fault!" But Patrick was walking away.

Pete sulked, turning to Joe and Andy. "It wasn't my fault," he said again.

Andy cleared his throat. Pete narrowed his eyes right as he said, "It kind of was, man."

"Yeah." Joe had the nerve to actually pat his shoulder. "Sorry."

"You're a bunch of traitors. And dickheads," Pete added. "Seriously, I'm going to kill you all."

He mostly wanted to intimidate them, but it backfired, because they backed off. "Just...dude. You said you'd leave him alone." Joe shrugged. "And you were kind of an asshole just now."

"Fuck you!" Pete yelled. His vision probably wasn't actually turning red, but he felt like it should be. "He was right there!"

Andy bit his lip. "Yeah, man. Walking."

They left Pete spluttering and waving his arms. When they were gone, he punched the shit out of the wall, not even caring when his knuckles split, knowing he'd be late for fourth period. His friends were taking Mikey fucking Way's side. They were fucking marshmallows.

Pete would show them. He had to. They were his...whatever, his people. They'd see.

He nodded. "They'll see," he told the sluggishly bleeding cuts on his knuckles.

||

Frank wouldn't stop jumping.

"And Bob grabbed him! It was awesome!" He leaped on Mikey's bed. "Wasn't it awesome!"

"Awesome, yeah." Mikey slowly Sharpie'd his nails, trying not to get any on his skin. "Hey, how are you and Jamia doing?"

"Oh god," Ray groaned from his spot on the floor.

Frank flung his arms up, flopping down on the bed and beaming. "Perfect. Yesterday she let me grab her tits."

"That's nice. Gerard says girls like it when you play with their nipples." Guys did too, but Mikey didn't say that part.

"Mikey!" Ray said, practically squeaking. "We didn't need to know that!"

"Speak for yourself," Frank said dreamily.

"How's Gerard doing, anyway?"

Mikey blinked at Ray. "Good. Um, I think."

"That's cool. He likes college?"

Ray was blushing. Hunh. "Sure," Mikey said. "You have a crush on him, don't you."

Frank cackled; Ray just got that much redder. Mikey thought it over, eventually deciding it was weird enough not to think about too much. Or mention. Ever. "Okay," he said finally. "Let's look at Internet porn."

They passed out with tits all over the screen and sheets of music scattered on the floor. When Mikey woke up, the clock read 4 AM and the computer screen was blank.

He lay still for a moment, trying to figure out what had woken him up. Ray and Frank were both sleeping like they were dead, and there was no thunder or even wind.

He looked out his window, just in time to catch a toilet paper roll flying over the branch of a tree outside.

"Pete," he muttered, and rolled out of bed, stepping on Ray's hair in an effort to avoid Frank's arms.

Pete didn't even notice Mikey until he grabbed Pete's wrist. Mikey kind of expected to get punched again, but instead Pete just turned around, wide-eyed.

"...what are you doing," Mikey said.

Pete's brow furrowed and his fingers flexed. Mikey didn't let go. "TP'ing your house, you fucking idiot, what's it look like," he said finally.

Mikey didn't even shrug, just kept looking.

"Because you're annoying, and I don't like you," Pete added. "And fucking Garry was a little freak, and - "

Mikey wasn't very good at punching. That was a reason for what he did next, even if it maybe wasn't the reason.

He pulled Pete close and stuck his hand down Pete's pants.

It shut Pete up right away, which was good, because he was hard and Mikey wanted to concentrate. "Hang on," he said, and maneuvered them so Pete was leaning against the wall of the house.

"What," Pete said, but Mikey shook his head, moving his hand slowly.

It was nice when Pete put his head back. Mikey could lay his head there, kissing Pete's neck, jacking him a little faster.

Pete didn't talk through the whole thing. It was a little confusing, because every time Mikey had thought about it, Pete had always been babbling. The silence was weird – he could hear the way his hand sounded against Pete's skin and his pants, the tiny choked moans Pete let out when Mikey twisted his hand. It didn't take long before Pete's hands were scrabbling against the wall, and then he pressed his hips against Mikey hard and whispered, "Fuck," coming all over Mikey's hand.

Mikey pulled his hand out and wiped it on his sweatpants. When he lifted his head, Pete was staring at him.

"What?" he said, sliding his hand over and cupping his dick. He didn't really expect Pete to do anything, and he was close anyway, so -

Pete leaned forward and kissed Mikey on the lips. Mikey came in his pants.

"I have to go," Pete said, so quickly Mikey could barely make the words out. "You – I have to go."

"Wait," Mikey said, but he was talking to Pete's back, and by the time he got enough breath back to say it louder, Pete was gone.

He hadn't really thought his first time would be in his front yard. He hadn't really thought his first time would be with someone who wouldn't think of it as a first time.

"Oh fucking well," Mikey told himself quietly, and went inside.

||

"I'm not gay."

"Probably not." Patrick looked up from his computer, watching Pete calmly. "You said you like tits."

"I do like tits! But he – I - "

Patrick looked like he was waiting, which was awesome and everything, except that Pete had no idea what he was waiting for.

"I kissed him! I made him come! He made me come!" Pete waved his arms. "No part of this is okay, dude. None."

Patrick raised his eyebrows.

"...it was nice," Pete said. "Kind of. He's nice."

Patrick crossed his arms.

"And I'm a dick," Pete said, horror creeping through him. Because, fuck, he was a bullying fucking asshole. "Patrick! Why didn't you tell me!"

"I did," Patrick said.

Pete buried his face in his hands. "Fuck," he said, muffled.

Patrick petted his hair.

||

In retrospect, Pete knew he really should've realized what was going on. He liked to think he usually had at least a little bit of a reason to be a complete dick, but this time, he pretty much didn't.

"He hates me, right? He should. He's probably got, like, a self-esteem problem if he doesn't."

"I don't know, man." Joe bent his Star Wars figures over each other until Obi-Wan was doing a good impression of humping Anakin's ass. "Some people are into that kind of thing."

"Some people are into, like, dogs," Pete said, and picked up Chewbacca. "Are you?"

"Pete!" Joe tried to grab the action figure, but Pete rolled out of his way.

"Joe! Joe, Chewy just wants you to love him!"

"I'm telling Mikey you'd probably rather have his dog," Joe said.

Pete didn't mean to ruin the fun, but he slumped and tossed the action figure to Joe, who looked as apologetic as Pete figured a guy being whacked in the head with a doll could.

"It sucks, man," Joe said finally.

Pete shrugged. "I was an asshole."

"Pretty much were," Joe said. "But still."

Pete chewed his lip, thinking about Mikey's hand, the way he'd looked Pete right in the eye. How it felt to have him gasp against Pete's mouth, shaking.

"I'll show him," he said finally. "I don't know how, but I will."

Joe made Chewy bend over for Yoda. "Of course you will."

||

Mikey thought it would have been okay if Pete ignored him, maybe, or kept being a dick. He wasn't ready for Pete to be polite, though. He opened doors for Mikey, smiled at him in the hallway, and just generally acted so nice that by the end of the week after the ill-advised hookup, Mikey felt like he was going insane.

He was emptying out his locker for the weekend's homework, music blaring out of his crappy headphones, when Pete tapped his shoulder.

"Fuck," he said too loudly, then knocked the headphones down around his neck. "What."

He didn't understand the jut of Pete's jaw or the way his eyes were narrowed, right until Pete said, "Can I carry your shit for you?", and Mikey realized this was Pete's idea of being brave.

"Okay," he said, and dumped them in Pete's arms. "You can walk me home."

It was pretty much a dare. Mikey should've known Pete would take it.

"I was a dick," Pete said when they hit the sidewalk outside the school. "Seriously. A huge massive dick."

"It's not that big," Mikey said without thinking.

"Um," Pete said. He sounded kind of horrified. Mikey wondered if the books thing was just Pete trying to make it up to him. He wasn't sure Pete knew there were no takebacks for this kind of thing.

"Not that it's not a nice dick, because it is," he added.

He didn't really expect Pete to blush, but he didn't expect him to say "Yeah, well, I didn't even get to see yours," either.

But he did. Mikey bit his lip.

"You could," he said, feeling a little like the time Frank talked him into jumping from the second story to the garage roof.

Pete moved closer, hip bumping Mikey's. "Okay," he said. They kept walking.

||

Over the weekend, Mikey learned that Pete liked Animal Planet, poetry, and kind of a scary amount of porn. He didn't learn what it would be like to kiss Pete when they both weren't freaking out, though, because Pete was slippery like an eel or Gerard avoiding a shower. He just never held still long enough for Mikey to kiss.

Maybe he was in denial, Mikey thought. It was a depressing idea, so of course he thought it over and over again.

But then Monday morning Pete showed up at Mikey's doorstep five minutes before Mikey was due to leave for school.

"Hi," he said. "Can I walk with you?"

Mikey had only had two mugs of coffee so far. He blinked at Pete. "Um."

Pete picked up his bookbag and held out his hand. Mikey was just tired enough to be stupid and take it.

The thing he always forgot about Pete was that he wasn't actually popular in school. He was a soccer player, yeah, and he had friends, but he wasn't Mr. Prom King or anything. He definitely wasn't popular enough to get away with walking into school, holding hands with Garry Way's little brother.

He did anyway.

When they got to Mikey's locker, Pete stopped and looked at Mikey, expression almost embarrassingly hopeful. Mikey sighed. "What are you doing?"

He wasn't expecting the bottom to drop out of his stomach when Pete's expression fell. "...I don't know," Pete said finally.

Mikey waited. At this point it was all he could think of to do.

"I guess," Pete said slowly, "I guess I like hanging out with you?"

Hanging out, right. Mikey should have known better. Gerard had always called this school hell. "Oh," he said, making his voice as flat as he could. "Okay."

"Okay?" Pete said hopefully. Mikey didn't blame him. He didn't want to kiss all his friends, either.

"Okay," he said, nodding.

Pete grinned and dropped his bag. Mikey had less than a second to be confused before Pete was pressing him back against the lockers and putting a finger under his chin.

"Okay," he said, and kissed Mikey gently.

Probably they needed to work on communication. Mikey kissed back anyway.

||

"And it's like, okay, but how do you know dogs can't play soccer?" Pete stole Joe's Lunchable and took a huge bite. "They might be able to! Ew, man, this tastes like cardboard."

"It's pizza, duh," Joe said.

"Isn't your dog just a puppy?" Frank asked from his spot in Jamia's lap.

"Not the point," Pete said. "Mikey, tell him what the point is."

Mikey shook his head and smiled, which to Pete said mission accomplished. He beamed at the table, ignoring Patrick's little eyeroll. Patrick still totally loved him. He had it in writing. "I think the point is that you're too young to be an unwed mother, Pete."

"Then you're going to have to marry me." Pete ducked his head and kissed Mikey, grinning. Mikey was blushing. Score, Pete thought, and did it again.

"That's disgusting," Ray said in a high voice.

"Disgusting is phone sex with my brother," Mikey said, and threw a tater tot at Ray's head.

Pete patted Mikey in the crotch and grinned when he squeaked. Totally the opposite of disgusting, he thought, and snuggled until they both almost fell off the lunch table bench.