A Girl-Shaped Love Drunk Message

Tue, 18 Mar 2008 01:13:34 GMT

Just thought I would update and let everyone know that I've been in the hospital for the past few days- I am fine and getting better but am unsure when I'm going to be released. I won't go into detail or anything just know that I'm out of the ICU and on my way to recovery- hopefully home soon and writing again.

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Wed, 12 Mar 2008 18:50:45 GMT

Panic At The Disco, My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, Cobra Starship, The Academy Is...

Panic At The Disco-

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My Chemical Romance-

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Fall Out Boy/Cobra Starship/TAI-

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Live Out Your [Karma]- Book 1 (Chapter 10)

Tue, 11 Mar 2008 19:45:19 GMT

Title: Live Out Your [Karma]- Book 1 (Chapter 10)
Featuring/Pairings: Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump(FOB), Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Jon Walker/Spencer Smith(PA!TD), Ray Toro
Summary: AU, In the year 2030 The United States is a third world country and Chicago is divided into sectors that strain relations between the social classes to the breaking point. Pete is a member of an underground movement; Patrick is the sheltered son of a rich business man. They've nothing in common but when circumstances force them together something that was missing in each of them clicks into place.
A/N: My first venture in to Bandom. Setting based off TV Show Dark Angel, however there are no X5s.

Pete’s thrusts hit that spot deep inside that made Patrick see stars as white hot busts of pleasure pulsed though his limbs. He moved quickly complimenting the movements of Pete’s cock inside of his body. “God Trick…so tight…Jesus…love you…shitshitshit…”

Patrick’s legs bent further back as the older boy leaned down to kiss him. He was surrounded by Pete. Pete was in his body, over and under his body and Patrick couldn’t remember anything ever feeling so good. Sweat dripped from both of them covering soft skin in a glowing sheen that gave everything a surreal glow in the lamp light.

When Pete had paused earlier in the night, asking him if he really wanted this, if he was ready to take what they had further, Patrick had nodded quickly. He was ready, he’s wanted it, he just didn’t know how much he wanted it. He’d had sex before but it was never this intense. The slide of Pete’s palm against his hip, the soft hairs behind his knees brushing against the smooth skin of Pete’s shoulders, all contributed to the deep intense feeling rolling through Patrick’s body.

“Please…”Patrick whimpered as Pete hit his prostate once again. He didn’t even know what he was asking for, anything, Pete, just more of Pete. Pete seemed to understand though because suddenly the slow sweet glide of Pete’s cock sped up. “Yes! God yes…so good…” Patrick moaned as Pete’s hips worked hard and fast ramming into Patrick’s body. The headboard made a dull bumping sound every time Pete snapped his hips up and soon they were both reduced to nonsensical mumblings under their breath.

Patrick reached out dragging Pete’s face to his and pressing a searing kiss to his lips. Pete slid his tongue into Patrick’s slightly parted mouth. The slide of tongues wet and hot between them as Patrick arched up trying to get more friction as his aching cock slid between their bodies.

“Trick…oh god, I’m gonna…” Opening his eyes, Patrick looked up into Pete’s eyes; dilated pupils surrounded by dark lashes.

“Touch me, Pete fuck, just…” Pete smirked continuing to thrust will all his strength into Patrick’s willing body before he reached down palming Patrick’s thick dick in his sweaty hand.

“Fucking beautiful” Pete whispered as his hand began to slide up and down in time with the penetrating thrust of his hips.

Patrick moaned as Pete licked a path down his neck, stopping at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Pete’s hand swept swiftly from the base to the tip of Patrick’s leaking erection, his thumb flicking over the tip as he bit down softly into Patrick’s neck.

“Pete…” Patrick whispered into his lover’s ear. Pete spasmed; his hips moving erratically and faster than Patrick thought possible.

“Say it again” Pete moaned.

“Pete” Pete’s cock hit his prostate; “Pete” Pete sucked a pert nipple into his mouth “PetePetePetePetePete…”

Pete’s mouth let go and the Patrick watched as the tan man’s back arched away from him, his mouth opening wide and emitting a loud moan. Pete’s hands gripped Patrick’s thighs, leaving bruises that Patrick would recall for days and filling him as his dick pulsed inside of him.

“Fuck…” Pete moaned, slowly sliding Patrick’s legs from over his shoulders. “Trick, I’ve never…that was…shit…” Pete looked down at the younger boy, smiling viciously before claiming his lips with his own, biting down on Patrick’s lower lip. “Want to stay here forever” he mumbled against Patrick’s lips.

Patrick smiled into the kiss, arching up for a moment as Pete’s hips slid over his still hard cock. “We’re going to have to do something about that” Pete whispered.

“No you don’t have t-”

“Shh…want to” Pete leaned back slightly from Patrick with a sated smile. “Really really want to.”

Patrick’s eyes rolled back into his head as he felt Pete’s lips tentatively slip against the underside of his cock. Patrick focused all of his attention on not thrusting up. “Gonna make you feel so good, Trick” Pete’s tongue swirled around the head and Patrick felt his voice break as he whimpered.

Gerard hung up the phone with a sigh, rubbing his eyes and leaning back against an old wooden table.

“Bad news?” Mikey asked from his perch on a stool beside the kitchen’s center island.

“Is there any other kind?” Gerard crossed his arms over his chest.

“Don’t be like that Gee; we get good news all the time.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah remember the other day when we were at Flo’s? We got pancakes Gerard, real pancakes; they weren’t made out of protein or anything! It was the best day…” Mikey mused as he chewed on a bit of his peanut butter sandwich.

Gerard tried to suppress a smile at Mikey’s childish enthusiasm, but it was really no use. It was rare that Mikey let his worries go long enough to kid around, and to be honest the pancakes were pretty fucking awesome.

“So how bad is it?” Mikey asked before pushing the last bit of his sandwich in to his mouth.

“Well” Gerard walked over jumping onto the center island beside where Mikey was sitting. “Do you want to the bad news or the worse news first?”

“Surprise me” Mikey answered dryly.

“Well according to Cheech, we’ve got two problems that need our immediate attention.”

“And those would be…?”

“First, there’s going to be a raid on all of our known associates first thing in the morning.” Gerard rolled his eyes, police raids were nothing new for them, “So, you better tell Ray” Mikey smiled lightly and nodded that he would. “Also, he thinks he might have information on the shooting that killed Maja.”

“I’m taking it we’re not going to like this information?”

“He practically said that we have a rat in our midst.”

“Maybe he’s wrong.”

“Mikes,” Gerard breathed, “when has he ever been wrong?”

Mike turned away; he didn’t want to believe that it was someone they knew. None of the inner circle would be that stupid, of that he was absolutely sure. Spencer, Jon, Joe and Pete were not part of whatever happened. No way in hell would he ever believe that. They were all each other had, they were family. So then, who was it?

Gerard could see the wheels starting to turn in Mikey’s head. No doubt going over every move anyone involved with their operation had made over the last few months. With a forced smile, he sat a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “Stop. Analyzing everyone we’ve ever met is not going to help right now.”

“I just…who could it possibly be? I can’t think of anyone that knows about us that I don’t have complete faith in.” Mikey stood.

“I know” Gerard agreed.

Mikey began to pace the length of the small kitchen. “Did I misjudge someone? What if I trusted someone and they did this…but why would they do that? I mean, Maja didn’t have any recent information on The Party…shit what if I told someone something I shouldn’t have? Now the sector cops are going to be looking to hang someone for Maja’s murder… What if our friends are in danger? Have you heard from Spence and Jon lately?”

Gerard reached out stopping Mikey’s pacing, “Mikey, whoever it is, whatever they’re doing, it’s not your fault. Stop trying to take responsibility for something we’re not even sure has happened.”

“But Gee, if I trusted the wrong person…our friends…”

Gerard wrapped his brother up in his arms, letting him lean against him and take deep breaths to calm him self. Mikey was all Gerard had left, he was the one who kept him sane most days and if Mikey was freaking out you can be damn sure that Gerard was silently panicking as well. Gerard had become good at hiding his emotions these past few years though, so it’s no surprise that he stood calmly by and let Mikey’s over active imagination reign itself in.

Mikey had always had the hardest job as far as Gerard was concerned. Gerard might be the leader, the man with the plan, but it was Mikey that sorted out all of the details. I was Mikey that made sure the inner circle had plenty of sector passes with fake identity cards in them so they could make it past sector posts undetected. It was Mikey who kept track of the safe houses, Mikey who made sure there was a sure fire escape route for every protest, discreet mission or attack The Party had planned. On top of all of that he was Gerard’s pillar as well.

When Frank was killed, Gerard had been in a bad place. He’d hated everyone and everything. He took to alcoholism like a fish takes to water and perfected the art of self destruction. Taking pills and hanging out with a well known gang was just the tip of the iceberg. His parents eventually kicked him out, not willing to watch their son slowly kill himself.

Gerard spent a three weeks sleeping in alleys or crashing on the couches of acquaintances, trading sex for a night of warmth and safety indoors. Mikey came to him on his sixteenth day of being homeless. He’d grabbed Gerard with a strength he hadn’t know his little brother possessed and took him back to an apartment he’d rented.

After a shower and a change of clothes provided by Mikey, Gerard had sat down and waited. The brothers were silent for a few minutes, each one afraid to break the silence that seemed to settle over them the moment they had walked in the door. Eventually, Mikey had cleared his throat and looked up through the fringe of hair hanging in his eyes. “You’re breaking my heart; you’d be breaking his too.”

Gerard never touched liquor or drugs again.

They’d come so far since those days. Gerard had really never foreseen any of this. He’d never stopped and thought to himself, I’m going to become a rebel. He didn’t seek out the attention of the world or the media or the police. It had all started with him trying to make up for those three weeks. He just wanted to make Frank and Mikey proud, fight out against the things that were wrong with the city. He didn’t want to stand silently by and act like Frankie had never been there. He couldn’t just let his memory fade.

Gerard thinks Frank would be proud of him now.

Mikey leaned back from his brother having reined in the emotions and smiled shyly at Gerard.

“Sorry” he blushed.

“Hey, no” Gerard shook his head, hugging him once again “It’s alright.”

Mikey just nodded, because, yeah, he knew it was. That was just how they worked. They were there to pick the other one up when they fell, The Brothers Way until the end and all of that.

“We better start making the calls.” Mikey straightened up and reaching into his back pocket and taking out a small black address book.

“You’re probably right. Let’s head over to Ray’s though, okay?” Gerard slipped on his jacket, “I need to talk to Pete about some things.”

“Okay” Mikey tried to hide his excitement.

Gerard smirked because he was a bastard and could read his little brother like a book. He didn’t comment though and for that Mikey was thankful. One awkward, “Hey, guess what I’m gay too” conversation with his older brother was enough for a lifetime.

Gerard waited for Mikey to button up his gray pea coat before he flipped off the kitchen lights and made his way to the front door.

They lived in Party headquarters. It was just more convenient having all of The Party’s resources under one roof. Mikey was a keen paper man, and all of his supplies for making sector passes, visas and passports were there. The blueprints of government buildings Gerard and the other guys had helped procure were there as well as anything pertaining to The Party’s next moves. No one took that kind of information out of HQ. If someone’s home was raided they couldn’t have their entire operation exposed. Gerard was extremely glad that they’d instated that policy now that Pete and Joe’s apartment was probably being searched by the police.

“What are we going to do about this whole Pete thing?” Mikey asked as Gerard punched the security code into the panel next to the door.

“I don’t know.” Gerard answered honestly, “We won’t survive another stunt like the one Maja pulled.”

“You think Pete knows what he’s doing?”

“I’d like to think so.” Gerard had absolute faith in Pete. He was charismatic and talented when it came to missions. Not covert missions, mind you. No, those they left for the baby faced, sweet talking Jon Walker. Pete was useful for when something called for a clever plan and swift execution. Joe being a demolitions expert worked well with his best friend and Spencer was there to patch everyone up afterwards.

Besides that though, Pete was his best friend next to Mikey. He’d been the one to help mold what he and Mikey had started into some semblance of order. They were the ones who stayed up late talking about “The Cause” and how they’d come to be where they were. Gerard had told him things about Frank that he’d never even told Mikey about and Pete had trusted him enough to yell and scream about Maja when she’d deserted. He was a pillar of strength for Joe and a constant annoying big brother to Jon and Spencer. So yeah, Gerard trusted him to make his own decisions.

Then again, Pete was ruled by his emotions at times. The Maja incident just being the most obvious and prime example of that. This situation didn’t seem the same to Gerard though. Pete had taken a step back from love and relationships in general after Maja. The guilt he’d felt for letting Maja pull the wool over his eyes had been so intense that they’d nearly lost him all together. So, Patrick, well he had to be something special. He had too, because Pete would never forgive himself if something happened to any of the inner circle and yet here he was taking a risk.

Gerard didn’t really know anything about Patrick. Well, other than the fact that he’d taken a bullet for Pete after only knowing him for a day. What did that say about a person? The kid was either certifiably insane or head over heals in love. Really, both tended to produce the same outcome.

Fri, 07 Mar 2008 01:21:08 GMT

Title: Live Out Your [Karma]- Book 1 (Chapter 9)
Featuring/Pairings: Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump(FOB), Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Jon Walker/Spencer Smith(PA!TD), Ray Toro
Summary: AU, In the year 2030 The United States is a third world country and Chicago is divided into sectors that strain relations between the social classes to the breaking point. Pete is a member of an underground movement; Patrick is the sheltered son of a rich business man. They've nothing in common but when circumstances force them together something that was missing in each of them clicks into place.
A/N: My first venture in to Bandom. Setting based off TV Show Dark Angel, however there are no X5s.

Being the richest man in the country afforded one many perks. In the city of Chicago, where Richard Stump made his home, he found one perk more useful than any other. That, was the fact that if he wanted the police to get something done, they got it done quickly, efficiently and with no argument.

So, when he sent them out to investigate a tip called in by a notorious street hustler, he expected results. Therefore, it was no surprise that when the sector chief returned without his son and with the news that he had possibly been shot by some trigger happy new recruit, he was less than pleased.

Richard Stump, it was said was made of stone, he was blunt and cold; ruthless in business and in life in general. He hadn't lowered the price of medical supplies after the Pulse and he hadn't given into pressure from the government to hand over his company's resources in light of the general state of emergency that had washed over the country either. It was said that he had no feelings for others, that he didn't care if people lived or died as long as his profit margins stayed high. This was all true. However, there was one person whose safety and general well being he did care for, and that was his son.

He may not have shown much affection to his son as a boy or even now as a man, but he did care. Patrick was his only son, which made him his only heir. He would one day have to take over the running of the empire Richard had built.

Also, Patrick looked like his mother.

The chief stood tall and proud before him, but Richard could see sweat building on his brow and his fingers tightening around the brim of his helmet that he'd tucked under his arm.

“So, Chief Iero, what about this situation strikes you as positive?”

“Excuse me, sir?” Iero wiped his graying hair from his damp forehead.

“I asked,” Mr. Stump stepped out from behind his mahogany desk, “What about this situation seems positive? I assume you think something is positive, you see, or else you wouldn’t be here now informing me of your complete incompetence instead of out there looking for my son!”

“Yes, sir”

“Yes?”

“I mean…no, sir”

“No?”

“Sir,” Iero straightened his back and looked the other man in the eyes. “With all due respect sir, these Party members know their stuff. They have plans in case of incidences such as this. A police raid is nothing new to them. I have reports from several of my men that someone in the escaping party was, in fact, shot. However, we cannot be sure of the person’s identity and no body has been found, which means that whoever it was is most likely still alive.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, sir.” Iero nodded, “Gunfire is nothing new to them either.”

“Very well” Stump nodded his ascension to the chief’s expertise. “I want men patrolling sector 7, I want Party friendly establishments searched and known associates interrogated until I get my son back.” Iero nodded, “Don’t come back with out him.”

“Of course not, sir” Iero turned signaling the men behind him to exit through the office door.

“Cheech” Mr. Stump called before the Captain could leave, “Bring him home.”

Iero nodded and followed his men out.

Pete ran a hand through Patrick’s hair. It was nearing Midnight but Patrick was still antsy having been stuck in Ray’s bed for the majority of the day. He’d insisted he was feeling much better; that the Quick Heal was doing its job and the hole in his shoulder was almost completely mended. Nevertheless, every time he’d tried to get up Pete had been there pushing him back down until eventually he just climbed into bed with Patrick, wrapping him up in his arms and making sure he wasn’t going to budge.

“I’m not a child you know?”

“Yes I know, your behavior today has proven to me that you can be trusted to do the adult thing and rest.”

“Ass” Patrick chided but snuggled further into Pete’s side anyway.

Pete ran a hand along Patrick’s arm, over his elbow and down until he could entwine his fingers with the younger boy’s.

Patrick was still pale. Even in the dim light of Ray’s bedroom, Pete could see that. His color had returned some but his cheeks weren’t the rosy pink they usually were and dark circles lined the area under his eyes. It didn’t matter that modern medicine could heal bullet wounds in a matter of hours, blood loss was blood loss and there had been an awful lot of it on that cement floor.

“People are looking for me.” It wasn’t a question.

“There was a news bulletin just after you left the diner.”

“So, that’s why the police…”

Pete nodded “We think the men who tried to hold you up turned us in, probably trying to get their hands on some of the reward money.”

“There’s a reward?”

“Yep, turns out you’re worth a boat load of money Patrick Stump” Pete smirked.

“Maybe you should…” Patrick faltered as Pete ran a finger over his bottom lip.

“Should what?” Pete asked leaning in.

“It’s not safe…” Patrick whispered, “First the train station and then the police...”

“Hey.” Pete rested his forehead against Patrick’s “I will protect you, nothing like this is ever going to happen again. I won’t let it.” he vowed.

“Pete,” Patrick sighed, “It’s not me I’m worried about. If you get hurt… or Joe even, I couldn’t…it would be my fault, Pete.”

“This is not your fault ‘Trick. None of it, and even if you did go home, even if you let the police take you, they would still be after us. We’re Party members, it comes with the gig.” Patrick scrunched his nose, “What?”

“Trick?”

“It suits you, I like it.” Pete nodded.

“Me too” Patrick leaned in placing a chaste kiss on Pete’s dry lips. “What about Maya though?”

“What about her?”

“I don’t think it was the police who shot her.” Pete sighed inwardly, he’d been avoiding the subject ever since the idea had made itself at home in his head.

What was he supposed to say though? He didn’t know who was behind the shooting at the train station, it certainly wasn’t The Party. They didn’t go in for killing people. ‘That’s the government’s job’ Pete thought angrily. No it wasn’t them, or anyone they associated with. If it had been someone in their group Gerard would know about it by now and he would have not only told Pete about it earlier, but also have kicked the ass of the stupid fuck before exiling them from the community.

The Party did not have any tolerance for traitors. And people who went behind The Party’s backs, people who thought they knew better than the inner circle and took it upon themselves to further the cause by killing innocent people…they were definitely traitors.

Pete had originally hoped the bullet had been meant for Maja. She was a commander of the entire Chicago police department. Surely a lot of people would have it out for her. However, Pete’s hope faded when he recalled that Maja had several men protecting her at all times and making sure any threat to her was taken out ahead of time. Too bad they’d been nowhere to be seen at the train station.

This all lead back to Pete’s original and vastly more disturbing conclusion that the bullet that had killed Maja had been meant for Patrick. Someone wanted the innocent, funny, adorable boy he was in bed with dead.

Pete sighed and ran a hand through Patrick’s red hair bringing it to a stop on the back of his neck and resting his forehead against the other boy’s. He had no answers and he could tell that Patrick was expecting him to shed some light on this, that he thought Pete knew something that he didn’t or a way to get them out of this situation. He wanted so much to be able to say something useful. Anything that would make the fact that Patrick had been shot at, chased, and threatened all within the first day and a half of knowing him, okay. There was nothing though, because he couldn’t lie to Patrick, not now. Not when every time he looked at Patrick he felt a tightening in his gut followed by a contented happy feeling flowing through him. This was right, he knew it and he was not going to mess it up by lying. Not if he had a choice.

“Trick, I…”

“How did you get into The Party?” Patrick smiled sadly, effectively changing the subject, Pete sighed thankfully before pulling Patrick further into him and pressing his lips against his.

“It’s a long story”

“I’ve got time” Pete smiled as Patrick laid his head down on Pete’s cotton covered chest.

“Well,” Pete began “I grew up in the higher sectors, I think you probably already guessed that” he smiled and ran a hand through Patrick’s hair. “After the Pulse, things were really different, no school, no jobs, my family was flat broke. My dad still tried to raise us right though. He wanted us to respect the government, learn what we could, my mom even took over our education, but then the sector posts went up. They sectioned us off, put up bared wire so that we couldn’t get into the richer neighborhoods like we were less than…I don’t know…just less.

“That’s when my dad changed. He started speaking out, started going to these meetings…” Pete paused remembering a time when he was out of the loop, when he wasn’t so angry or aware. “Anyway,” he continued “I was eighteen when I went to my first protest with my dad. He was really big into it, like people where calling his name and waving hello and thanking him for all these things he’d done that I didn’t have any idea he was doing in the first place. I’d always looked up to my dad, but after that I had a new level of respect for him. He was doing something important.” Patrick looked up at Pete and smiled softly, “They took him a year later.”

“He was disappeared?”

“Yeah” Pete looked down twisting a ring around his finger. “After that, I got my mom and little brothers out of the city, I stayed though. I felt like I owed him that. Then I met Gerard”

“Gerard Way?” Patrick seemed impressed.

“Yes” Pete grinned “the infamous Gerard Way, but he wasn’t so infamous back then, he was just a kid like me with a chip on his shoulder. He had a vision though, he started The Party.”

Patrick moved slightly, entwining his legs with Pete’s. Pete could tell he didn’t know what to say, for once, he thought kindly.

“What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what about you? What was your childhood like, why have you been away for so long?”

“I don’t want to talk about it” Patrick looked away.

“Why not? I thought we were sharing sob stories here” Pete joked.

“It’s just…I don’t have anything like that. I wasn’t involved in anything important…I’m not anything to write home about.” He shrugged.

“Bull shit” Pete looked down at Patrick catching his eyes with his own. “Trick, I’ve never known someone like you before.” Patrick tried to roll his eyes and turn away again but Pete stopped him, turning his face back so he could look at him straight on, “Don’t do that, I’m serious.”

“Pete-“

“No.” he said firmly, “I want to know. Tell me about your life.”

Patrick sighed and laid his head down once again, placing a hand over Pete’s heart. “Okay.” He nodded, “Well…my mom she was everything to me. She was the earth and sky, you know?” Pete brought his hand up to cover Patrick’s. “After the pulse, we pretty much kept to ourselves. My tutor would come over and we had a housekeeper and a driver who lived with us, but mainly it was just me and my mom. She was…I don’t really know how to describe her. She had that ability to light up a room. It didn’t matter if there was one person or a hundred in the room; she was just this presence that everyone could feel. People flocked to her, but she chose to spend most of her free time with me. I don’t know if she was trying to make up for my father or what, but she was there when I woke up and put me to bed her self every night until she died.” Pete tightened his hold on Patrick’s hand wrapping the other around the younger boy’s back.

“She taught me about music, our library was full of vinyl instead of books. She liked Prince a lot and she insisted I learn how to play ‘Raspberry Beret’.” Patrick smiled remembering. “I can play just about every instrument under the sun because of her. It’s my connection to her, playing…

“Anyway, she died of cancer when I was thirteen.” Patrick’s smile faltered “That’s why I’ve been away so long. Richard was never much of a father and he didn’t know how to react to suddenly having to communicate with a teenage son. I was shipped off to London a week after the wake. I don’t know how to describe the feeling of simply not being wanted. Kind of felt like my whole life was suddenly swept away, not just my mother.

“It wasn’t all bad though, I went to school and I met Hurley and we traveled, it’s kind of hard to feel sorry for yourself when you’ve had every advantage shoved your way.”

Patrick fell silent and Pete didn’t speak either. It was somewhat easier to understand Patrick now, absentee father and one way ticket to boarding school reeked of neglect. It didn’t matter how much money was thrown his way Patrick had gone from a happy kid to orphaned exile over night. Patrick learned how to take care of himself in a foreign country at a time where most kids had probably already picked their friends and weren’t looking to befriend the geeky sheltered kid from America.

He understood now why Patrick felt free to argue with Pete when he hardly knew him. He’d had to build up a defense system well before they ever met. He still didn’t understand one thing though…

“Why didn’t you run away?” Pete asked.

“When? I seem to remember doing a lot of running lately.”

“When you found out I was a Party member” Pete smirked.

“Oh then” Patrick answered, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? It must have crossed your mind.”

“Well yeah,” Patrick breathed “I thought about it. I mean who wouldn’t? You’re a Party member and I’m Patrick Stump, fleeing had to cross my mind at some point, hell you caught me hanging out a window.”

Pete smiled remembering the scene outside the Kathmandu Diner. “Then why didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t scared.” Patrick shrugged, “I knew I should be, but I just wasn’t.”

“Why not?” Pete looked down at Patrick. He looked different with out his hat and glasses. Not better, not worse but different. ‘Comfortably disheveled’ Pete thought, hair slightly mussed from laying in bed all day and an easy smile across his plump limps. Pete liked him like that.

Patrick didn’t answer Pete, instead opting to once again brush his lips across Pete’s. Though this time after a moment Pete felt Patrick’s soft tongue tracing a path over his bottom lip. Patrick rolled over so they laid chest to chest as Pete opened his mouth to and let Patrick’s tongue slip inside.

Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick’s waist sighing deeply into the red head’s mouth while Patrick softly guided a hand down the other man’s chest before trailing under Pete’s white shirt feeling the warm taught skin underneath.

“Wait…just…” Pete said, struggling for a minute before pulling the white tee-shirt over his head and throwing it aside.

Patrick’s eyes grew wide as he watched Pete lay back down. A small lamp beside the bed that gave off a soft yellow glow, not very bright, but just enough light that the patterns decorating Pete’s arms and torso are brought out vivid and beautiful against his tan skin. Patrick leaned down tracing the thorns wrapping around Pete’s neck and chest with his fingers.

“Did they hurt?” Patrick asked as he replaced his fingers with his mouth, licking and biting along the design.

“Yes” Pete moaned as Patrick began sucking at the junction between his neck and shoulder.

Patrick’s hands began to wonder, flowing in a swift line down Pete’s torso and coming to rest at his hips. When his left came down to palm his hardening cock through the threadbare denim he still wore, Pete felt his control slip.

In one swift move Pete wrapped a leg around Patrick and used his body to push them over so he was straddling Patrick’s waist. The expression of surprise on Patrick’s face gave Pete the opportunity to slip his tongue into the other boy’s mouth. He could taste stale coffee and the copper tang of blood, but also something rich and dark as his tongue swept against Patrick’s. He took everything he was being offered, swallowing a soft moan from Patrick and delving into the warm cavern of his mouth.

Using his leverage, Pete began to subtly shift his hips against Patrick’s. Patrick moaned gripping behind Pete’s neck, running his fingers through the fine hair there and bringing him into another hungry kiss. Pete bucked harder down into his lover’s pliant body, grinding their straining erections together. “shit…” Patrick panted, running his hands down Pete’s back, leaving thing white lines with his nails.

Pete moaned feeling the sharp edges of Patrick’s blunt nails marking a trail down his back. “Patrick…Trick…oh god” he trust down again.

Patrick was already shirtless after having his own clothes cut down the middle earlier in the day and now lay below Pete in only a pair of thin black boxer shorts. Pete shifted, kissing a path down Patrick’s torso and coming to a stop at the waist band. “Trick?” He asked, because they haven’t known each other that long and he’s not going to do anything Patrick doesn’t want him to. He can wait. He really doesn’t want to wait, but he will, he will wait until Patrick’s ready.

Chapter 10

Live Out Your [Karma]- Book 1 (Chapter 8)

Tue, 26 Feb 2008 03:07:41 GMT

Title: Live Out Your [Karma]- Book 1 (Chapter 8)
Featuring/Pairings: Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump(FOB), Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Jon Walker/Spencer Smith(PA!TD), Ray Toro
Summary: AU, In the year 2030 The United States is a third world country and Chicago is divided into sectors that strain relations between the social classes to the breaking point. Pete is a member of an underground movement; Patrick is the sheltered son of a rich business man. They've nothing in common but when circumstances force them together something that was missing in each of them clicks into place.
A/N: My first venture in to Bandom. Setting based off TV Show Dark Angel, however there are no X5s.

“How do you think the cops found you?” Jon asked, sitting back on a beige loveseat, in a secluded section of the bar. Ray, the owner, had closed down Toro’s Pub for the evening so that Patrick could rest and The Party could meet without interruption.

Joe, because Pete refused to, had told the group, in detail, what had happened. He described the scene at the transit station, Maja’s death, the fight at Kathmandu Diner and everything else up until he’d rushed into the bar and grabbed the phone to call Spencer. The only thing Joe didn’t come right out and tell his friends was that he’d walked out of the bathroom to find Pete and Patrick making out in the skuzzy gray chair that sat in their living room.

It wasn’t as if anybody could have missed the signs anyway, what with Pete sitting dejectedly by and letting Joe do all the talking. Pete was a vocal guy, that’s just how it was. So, the fact that he was sitting there quietly without hopping in to interject something was a clear indication that Pete felt strongly enough about Patrick to be very upset.

“Yeah I wondered that too.” Spencer echoed Jon’s thoughts.

“I’ll give you two guesses.” Joe answered before looking over at Pete who hadn’t spoken a word since Gerard and Mikey had arrived.

“Fucking Saporta” Pete agreed.

“You really think Gabe and The Butcher went and informed on you to the sector cops just because you stopped them from mugging Patrick?” Mikey asked.

“Nah,” Gerard shook his head, “those little bitches did it because they knew who Patrick was. They probably thought they could get their hands on some of the reward money.”

Gerard never trusted anyone. Even when someone entered The Party with Mikey’s okay, they had to prove themselves to Gerard. It had taken Joe getting arrested and not breaking under the weight of the sector police “interrogation” to earn their leader’s trust. It had taken Jon getting Gerard and Pete both out of a jam at a sector post. Spencer had saved Mikey’s life. While Pete, well Pete was the first person to be allowed into The Party who didn’t have the last name Way and he had proven himself many times over.

“What are we going to do with him?” Mikey asked from his perch on a table beside his brother. He didn’t have to say Patrick’s name, everyone knew who he was referring to.

No one spoke, but they all turned their heads in Pete’s direction.

“Pete?” Gerard finally spoke, “Do you want to tell us what is going on between you two?”

“No” Pete answered.

“Pete…”

“I don’t know” Pete looked Gerard in the eye, “Give me some time to talk with him when he wakes up, we’ll decide what to do then.”

Gerard gave Pete a stern look before nodding to confirm that he would give Pete the time he needed. With that decided Jon and Spencer stood up from their spots on the sofa and collected their jackets. Having The Party all together in one place was never very safe and away from headquarters it was even less so.

“I left the meds and the Quick Heal in the back room next to Patrick.” Spencer said quietly, “Give him two teas spoons of the Quick Heal when he wakes up and two pills out of the orange bottle as well.”

Pete nodded, “two teaspoons, two pills, got it.”

“You’ll need to give him three doses, once every four hours.” Spencer smiled sadly, “You know Pete, they could patch him up in about two seconds if you took him back home. The Stump Corporation obviously has the best medicine available.”

Pete bowed his head, Spencer was right, he always was. Right now it was really annoying.

“Come on baby, we need to get home.” Jon slipped a black pea coat over Spencer’s shoulders.

“See ya’” Spencer smiled after he’d slipped his arms into the sleeves and took Jon’s hand.

Ray came out from behind the bar and unlocked the front door for Jon and Spencer before closing it behind them. Which left only Gerard and Mikey to deal with; Pete turned and looked at Gerard who was already making his way over. Mikey was thankfully busy flirting with Toro as usual.

“Are you alright?” Gerard asked, placing a hand on Pete’s shoulder.

“Of course I’m alright.” Pete slid out from under Gerard’s hand.

“Pete, the last time I saw you this quiet and standoffish was right after Maja deserted.”

“This isn’t like that.”

“No, I don’t suppose it is. It is quiet different isn’t it?” Gerard gave Pete a meaningful look, “That kid has gotten under your skin.”

“So what if he has?” Pete looked up meeting Gerard’s gaze.

“Hey, that’s fine. You like the kid, that’s fine with me, I don’t care. I just want you to be careful, because there are only two ways this thing can end. One,” he held up a single finger, “he decides he loves you and you decide you love him and you two team up and we have a new member, once he gets past Mikey of course. Or Two,” a second finger joined the first “Patrick Stump, son of pharmaceutical tycoon Richard Stump, gets scared and runs back home and informs on you and Joe and everything else he’s seen. Then The Party is in fucking trouble. Again.”

“He won’t inform on us.” Pete reassured, “He might not love me or whatever, but he’s not going to nark.”

“I hope you’re right.” Gerard sighed.

Me too was on the tip of Pete’s tongue but he stayed silent and watched as Gerard retreated, grabbing Mikey on the way out of the bar.

Ray and Joe had gone to scrounge up some clothes so Joe could stop gripping the thin material at his waist and Pete found himself sitting on the table beside Patrick. The back room was quiet now with all of the Party members gone; just Patrick’s labored breaths and Pete’s uneasy fidgeting echoing softly off the walls.

Pete had never spent much time at Toro’s before. He knew Ray of course; he’d been at a couple meetings whenever he was working on something with Mikey. It was generally acknowledged that he was a trustworthy, solid type of guy. Hell, anyone that hung with Mikey for any prolonged amount of time had to be devoted. The stuff that Mikey got up to basically guaranteed any acquaintance a spot on the higher sectors watch dog list.

So yeah, Ray was cool. His bar however, well it wasn’t what one would expect from the afro crowned Puerto Rican. There were no brightly lit jukeboxes or overhead speakers blaring old rock music, no neon signs advertising beer. It was a hole in the wall, the dark rich wood of the bar contrasting with the soft leather sofas and chairs. It was a left over remnant from a time when Chicago had been a place that attracted party goers every Friday and Saturday night. Pete could imagine it being some hip bar where only those people ‘in the know’ got together.

In the basement, where Pete sat with Patrick tough, it was all grey cement walls and bare dusty floors. It reminded Pete a little of a holding cell he’d been put in one time.

Patrick’s face turned slightly as he slept, moving so his nose nearly touched Pete’s thigh. Pete turned, running the back of his hand lightly over Patrick’s pale cheek. Patrick didn’t stir any further and Pete let out a light sigh. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. It seemed like they were on the verge of something. Pete wasn’t sure what that something was but he knew that it involved lips and hands and light sweeps of tongue.

For the first time in a long while Pete allowed himself to wish for a time before The Pulse. He usually didn’t think about it, there was no point wishing for things that could never be. It hurt to think back to those times, to times with his family, to a time when he was a son and a big brother. Back then he could have taken Patrick out on a date though. He could have done this whole thing without gun fire and running from the cops. Pete would give anything to be able to pick Patrick up at his high-rise apartment and take him out for pizza.

Pete tucked the blanket lying over Patrick up further so it rested under the young boy’s chin. He’d placed a pillow under Patrick’s head and a blanket over his body earlier to keep him warm. Even though he’d been sweating, Spencer had made a point to say to keep him warm, so Pete had covered him up. There was no way he was going against the advice of the good doctor, no way.

Pete adjusted himself on the side of the table feeling the dull ache in his haunches. If the table was uncomfortable to sit on, he could only imagine how uncomfortable it was to sleep on. Looking around, Pete had to admit there was really no other place to move to though. The front room had couches but the likelihood of someone stumbling in was too great and Ray lived upstairs but it would be a hassle to get Patrick up the stairs without pulling his stitches out…

“You’re wearing my hat.” A tired voice said.

Pete’s attention turned back to Patrick, smiling when he saw the dark blue-green eyes looking up at him from under heavy lids. “Hey” he slid a hand through Patrick’s soft hair.

“Are you alright?” Patrick’s scratchy voice asked.

“Shouldn’t it be me asking you that?” Pete watched as Patrick’s eyes darted over him looking for any signs of injury. “I’m fine” he assured him, “besides being scared out of my fucking mind after you got shot, I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry” Patrick reached out slowly, stopping the hand moving in his hair and lacing their fingers together. “I didn’t think.”

“Damn straight,” Pete nodded, “If you ever do something like that again, I will kill you.”

“Kind of defeats the purpose doesn’t it?” Patrick managed a weak smirk.

“Patrick, I-I”

Pete’s emotions were going haywire, relief and happiness were overlapping the fear and worry he’d felt moments earlier. All of it was so intense and so sudden, everything was so sudden. He’d just met Patrick but he was already afraid of what was going to happen between them. He was afraid now that Patrick had seen what his life was like, that he was going to decide Pete wasn’t worth it and run home.

Honestly, Pete wouldn’t blame him. Not many would choose the life Pete had, especially not if their lives had been so unaffected by the things that had shaped Pete’s. It was dangerous, hell Patrick had only been with him for one day and he’d already been shot. Fucking shot, he’d bled, a lot…he could have died! He could be dead now, and for what? For Pete? Fuck that, he was so not worth Patrick’s life, why had Patrick pushed him down like that? He barely knew him and he’d put himself out there for him.

Pete felt the area behind his eyes begin to prickle. Shit, he didn’t cry. He just didn’t but this feeling was rushing over him in a swift wave. It was a kind of warm relief followed by a fluttering in his rib cage. He hadn’t felt anything this acutely in a long time, his job came with a mandatory numbing of emotions, but Patrick smiled at him and Pete was just kind of lost. If he was going to be honest with himself, he’d pretty much been lost since Patrick had screamed at him in the Diner.

Patrick was looking at him; Pete could feel the younger boy’s gaze searching his face for some clue as to what was going on in his head. Pete was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to sensor anything at the moment. He was too tired, too raw after everything that they’d gone through in the past few hours.

“Hey, it’s okay” Patrick brought their laced fingers up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to Pete’s middle finger, “It’ll all be okay, you’ll see.”

When Patrick first opened his eyes all he could focus on where colors, there was a lot of brown. Light brown of the ceiling over his head, slightly darker areas shadowed by cracks and peeling paint. Looking to his side there were cardboard boxes lining the walls, light beige covered in black writing. Yellow morning sun poured in through a small basement window in the corner, bouncing off silver folding chairs underneath. Beside him stark white cotton contrasted with smears of vivid red over the taught muscles of Pete’s stomach. Patrick knew it was Pete because golden skin peaked out from under the sleeves.

Patrick sighed slightly as he tilted his head back, catching sight of raven hair covered by a familiar black cap.

“You’re wearing my hat.”

Pete’s faced turned quickly towards him, quick enough to see the pained expression before it was converted to a look of overwhelming relief.

“Hey” Pete said softly and Patrick leaned into his touch as Pete slipped a hand into his hair.

“Are you alright?”

Pete's hand slowed slightly. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

That wasn’t an answer. Patrick looked at Pete, the blood smearing the front of his shirt didn’t look to be coming from him, but he wanted to be sure.

“I’m fine” Pete assured him, “besides being scared out of my fucking mind after you got shot, I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Patrick felt bad, only a little though. “I didn’t think.” He knew if Pete had been shot he’d be going out of his mind with worry. Still, he didn’t have any regrets. What he’d done had been instinct, to protect someone he…he felt a lot for and as far as he was concerned, something like that could never be wrong. If it wasn’t wrong, it was kind of hard to regret doing it.

“Damn straight,” Pete nodded, “If you ever do something like that again, I will kill you.”

Patrick couldn’t help but smirk, worried Pete was somewhat endearing. “Kind of defeats the purpose doesn’t it?”

“Patrick I-I…”

Patrick saw the moment it hit Pete, all the weariness from the past couple of days coupled with what Patrick could only assume was an immense sense of relief. Pete’s hand unconsciously gripped tighter where Patrick had laced their fingers together and when Patrick saw Pete’s eyes glaze over with unshed tears; he knew this was for real. This situation he’d suddenly found himself in was real. He was really, truly, recovering from a gun shot wound while being watched over by a Party member. A Party member that he, to make matters even more surreal, was pretty much head over heels for.

How did all of this happen? All Patrick remembers in his fuzzy recovering memory are gun shots interlaced with images of golden skin, black hair and gorgeous eyes. He thinks that the attraction started as soon as Pete smirked at him outside the train station, he knows that the infatuation started when Pete laughed with him as he hung out a bathroom window. Still, he can’t explain how he’s come to this moment. How he’d managed to fall for someone with street cred and a temper that matched Patrick’s own.

He looked up at Pete who was silently panicking as well, and he knew immediately how it happened. It was Pete grasping his hand as they ran from the train station. It was kohl outlined eyes staring into his after being mugged; a touch of hands to his face as Pete made sure Gabe hadn’t worked him over. It happened while he played guitar and Pete played bass to an improved version of an old Morrissey song. It was cemented when Pete’s lips attached to his and made permanent when Patrick’s arms found their way around Pete’s neck.

Patrick could tell that Pete was trying hard to keep it together, to not let everything fall down on him and burry him under the weight. Patrick wondered if they had met under different circumstances whether they would still feel the same about each other. Pete was only twenty three years old; he should have been in school studying something mundane like English lit or physics. They could have met in school, could of had their first kiss in the quad, or in the stacks of the library. There was a chance that Pete wouldn’t have been the same loyal, fierce, energetic person he was now though. He might have been popular, he was pretty enough, he could have played sports and won everyone over with his infectious smile and never given Patrick a second glance.

Pete bit his lip as he thought and Patrick realized that all the what-ifs and maybes really didn’t matter though. He was here lying on a really uncomfortable table and Pete was beside him wearing his hat. The oddest thing was that Patrick wouldn’t change any of it.

In the future, if anyone bothered to ask, Patrick was certain he would say that was the moment he realized how easy it would be for him to fall in love with Pete Wentz.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Slowly, contracting his tired muscles, Patrick raised their clasped hands and ran his lips lightly across Pete’s fingers. “It’ll all be okay, you’ll see.”

Chapter 9

Live Out Your [Karma]- Book 1 (Chapter 7)

Fri, 22 Feb 2008 01:45:10 GMT

Title: Live Out Your [Karma]- Book 1 (Chapter 7)
Featuring/Pairings: Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump(FOB), Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Jon Walker/Spencer Smith(PA!TD), Ray Toro
Summary: AU, In the year 2030 The United States is a third world country and Chicago is divided into sectors that strain relations between the social classes to the breaking point. Pete is a member of an underground movement; Patrick is the sheltered son of a rich business man. They've nothing in common but when circumstances force them together something that was missing in each of them clicks into place.
A/N: My first venture in to Bandom. Setting based off TV Show Dark Angel, however there are no X5s.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Pete was once told that when you use a word many times in a row, it looses its meaning, but no other word seemed appropriate under the circumstances.

Pete jumped the rest of the way down the ladder coming to a crashing halt beside Patrick. Joe was already there feeling for a pulse.

“He’s alive” Joe said knotting the towel on his hip and grabbing Patrick beneath the shoulders, “take his legs, we gotta move!”

Pete wound his arms over Patrick’s thighs, gripping beneath his knees and picked him up with Joe as gunfire echoed from the room above. They made their way down the dark corridor, the only light having been from the apartment above was now gone and not being able to see Patrick was filling Pete’s brain with all sorts of scenarios. None of them were good.

They ran with Patrick 100 yards or so before slowly coming to a stop. Patrick didn’t speak, didn’t move or moan, just laid still and limp in their arms. Pete tried to concentrate on reaching out to the wall beside them where he and Joe both knew a small door was subtly placed.

Pete remembered Gerard using a saw and miniscule hinges as he built the door, “This way if you’re being chased” he’d said, “they won’t be able to follow ya’. They won’t even notice the door.” He was right too, if Pete hadn’t known exactly where to look, he never would have seen it. Luckily for them though, Gerard was fucking paranoid and had insisted they have a plan and practice once or twice a year. So, finding the exit was no problem even in the dark. They sat Patrick down gently and Pete popped the door open quietly.

Behind them they could hear the sound of thick soled boots clamoring down the ladder. Gruff voices echoed off the walls of the narrow passage way and Pete tried his best to keep his breathing shallow and his hands steady as he pushed the wall away.

With the door open, Pete sat back and allowed Joe to pass through first. Once inside, Joe turned back and reached out to drag Patrick forward. Pete helped guiding him through, before shimmying in after both of them. They closed the door quickly and flipped the deadbolt Gerard had installed “Just in case.”

It was still dark, but across the small room a sliver of light seeped in from under another door which Pete knew would exit into the basement of a Party friendly bar a black and a half down from their apartment.

“Wait here, okay?” Joe asked, “I’m going to go get help.”

Pete nodded even though he new Joe couldn’t see him in the dark and listened as Joe shuffled across the floor and over to the door. The rusty hinges of the door opened quickly and Pete watched as Joe, still dressed in only a towel tripped over boxes of liquor that were piled in front of the exit. He watched until Joe took two giant steps, legs out as far as they could stretch in front of him, one hand on the doorframe and the other refusing to leave its place at Joe’s side reserving what little modesty he had left. Pete watched as Joe skidded across the cement floor and flung open the door that lead to front of the bar. He watched all of this just so he wouldn’t have to turn around. He was afraid of what he’d see.

Then he heard the shuddering intake of breath beside him and his attention turned immediately to Patrick. His face was lit only by the light coming from the other side of the open door. Even in the dark, Pete could see that Patrick was pale, and he’d been pale before, not ghostly white like Mikey or Gerard but the kid could have used some sun. This was extreme though, he could see the outline of green veins in his hands and the usual pink hue of his cheeks was gone. His breath came in short spurts, his chest still rising and falling but in shallow intervals. The hair around his face was damp and stuck to his neck and forehead, the rest, which was usually covered by his hat, stuck up at awkward angles.

‘Shit his hat!’ Pete thought springing up from his place on the floor. He couldn’t see much behind them. He looked around trying to spot the small shape of the hat in the dim light but the area was so dark he could only see a couple feet ahead of him. He had to find it though. Patrick would need it when he woke up. It was his security blanket, Pete could tell by the way Patrick would constantly adjust it when he was unsure what to say or lower it over his eyes when he didn’t want attention. Patrick couldn’t wake up without it. Pete had to make sure it was there.

So Pete did the only thing he could think to do, he settled himself down onto his hands and knees and began crawling slowly while letting his arms coast ahead of him reaching for Patrick’s hat in the darkness. He went ahead slowly, sweeping his hands form side to side, trying to cover all the ground between where Patrick laid and the small door they’d come in through. The only sounds in the room were Patrick’s labored breathing and the swoosh of skin against cement as Pete’s hands searched. Near the door his hands came to purchase on a small bit of black cotton and Pete raised it in triumph looking over at Patrick who was still unmoving on the floor.

Clutching the brim of the cap, Pete slowly started making his way back towards Patrick. In the faint light Pete could see were the bullet had hit home. Red blood flooded the floor below Patrick’s left shoulder, forming a small puddle that reached up and soaked the hood of Patrick’s sweatshirt and the back of his black jacket. Pete knelt down next to the boy he’d only met hours ago and was only partially shocked when the area behind his eyes began to prickle.

“Pete, I called the Doc, he’s on his way.” Joe’s voice sounded from the doorway. Pete only nodded in recognition of the words, not trusting his voice to stay steady.

It struck Pete as odd that it was only moments earlier that he’d been kissing Patrick and even less than that, that he had been carrying Patrick, but now he couldn’t bring himself to reach out and touch him.

He wanted to wrap his arms around the younger boy, wanted to hold him in his arms until his gorgeous eyes opened and that priceless smile graced his face. There was blood though, and staggered breathing and no movement besides that. Pete had lost people before, family and friends and Party members but never someone who he’d felt so much for after such a small period of time. He was certain that loosing Patrick would be something akin to loosing all those people in one foul swoop. Touching him would make the situation a reality.

So Pete didn’t touch him, he placed Patrick’s black cap over his own head and tugged it down instead.

Spencer and Jon had arrived a few minutes later, Joe and Jon had carried Patrick into the backroom of the bar and Pete had followed silently. Joe and Jon sat Patrick on a cleared off table and stepped back immediately so Spencer could set up.

Needles and thick heavy thread were pulled out of Spencer’s bag, followed by bags of universal donor blood and rubbing alcohol. Spencer unrolled a black satchel that contained his instruments and laid them beside Patrick before taking a deep breath and using the scissors to cut down Patrick’s hoodie. A quick line from the neck to the hip revealed a black tee shirt beneath and once that was cut as well, Spencer carefully maneuvered Patrick so that he could slide the jacket and shirts off with out jostling him too much.

Everything looked so much worse in the unforgiving light of the backroom. The crimson color smeared across Patrick’s pale chest and perspiration lining his forehead stood out in stark relief under the florescent lights.

“I need some rags and hot water.” Spencer murmured and Joe was out of the door in a rush. “Jon could you…” Spencer motioned to the bags of blood and Jon came forward to hold the bag high as Spencer slipped the attached needle into Patrick’s arm.

As Spencer finished and the blood began to run down the tubes and into Patrick’s body, Joe returned with a bowl filled with steaming water and some rags clutched in his hands. He stopped in front of Pete and held it out for him. Pete looked up from under Patrick’s hat, scowling at Joe. He couldn’t do that. Joe should know he couldn’t do that… Joe just pushed the bowl into Pete’s hands and shifted him towards the table.

“Just keep the wound clear so I can see what I’m doing.” Spencer explained, “We’ll start with his back.” Pete dipped the white rag into the water and began to sweep at blood.

For his part, Spencer set to work quickly. Checking the wound and disinfecting it with quick, well practiced movements. Pete would have praised some kind of higher power, if he believed in one, for making Spencer Smith so brilliant, or even for just bringing him into Pete’s life at all. The boy was young, barely twenty years old, but there was no physician that Pete had more faith in. He’d seen Spencer patch up worse and if there was one person that was going to make Patrick better it was “Doc” Smith.

When Spencer began stitching up the gash in the front of Patrick’s shoulder and the water in Pete’s hands was a dark pink color, Patrick flinched and made a small noise. Setting aside the water as Spencer tied off the last knot, Pete began to run a hand through Patrick’s hair. It was the first time he’d touched him in any way, other than to wipe blood aside, since he’d seen Patrick lying motionless on the floor just one room away.

“’Trick?” Pete wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt comfortable with giving Patrick a nickname, but it fit. “’Trick, wake up man.”

“He’s lost a lot of blood Pete.” Spencer offered, “He’ll live, but you’ve got to give him a couple hours to come around.” Pete nodded silently, letting the tips of his fingers run down the side of Patrick’s face.

Pete listened absently as Spencer explained to the room that the bullet had been a through and through, no major arteries or organs hit. He’d stitched up the flesh on his chest and back and he would heal nicely. “It’s going to hurt like a bitch when he wakes up.” Spencer took time removing his blood caked gloves before turning and throwing them in the waste bin. “I’ll get him some pain meds and Quick Heal. He should be back on his feet some time in the next day or so.”

“You did well, baby” Jon smiled and wrapped an arm around Spencer from behind.

“He always does well” Pete nodded in agreement.

Spencer and Jon were an odd pairing to say the least. Spencer was a certified genius, having gotten into medical school at some ridiculously young age. He also had a penchant for form fitting tee shirts and tight girl jeans. His appearance was always meticulously put together. Even standing in the backroom of Toro’s Bar at two in the morning, his hair looked soft and groomed and his eyeliner was carefully applied. Jon however, stood behind Spencer in an oversized gray hoodie, stained jeans and flip flops. Yes, flip flops in winter, in Chicago. Pete didn’t even know where Jon got them; it wasn’t like Old Navy was still doing a booming business.

Where Spencer was snarky and sarcastic, Jon was kind and laidback and just as easily as Spencer could patch a bullet wound, Jon could wrap people around his finger and get any information he needed without using violence. Not to say that Jon didn’t have the training if he did need to use violence. He was a Party member after all. He just preferred not having to walk around with guilt weighing him down. In fact, the only time Pete had seen Jon shoot somebody was when a supposed “ally” pulled a knife on Spencer.

Still, Pete was surprised when a week after that particular standoff, the duo had announced they’d gotten married.

“So,” Spencer looked over to Joe, “Nice towel.”

“Blow me.”

Chapter 8

Live Out Your [Karma] Book 1- Chapter 6

Tue, 19 Feb 2008 02:23:12 GMT

Title: Live Out Your [Karma]- Book 1 (Chapter 6)
Featuring/Pairings: Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump(FOB), Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Jon Walker/Spencer Smith(PA!TD), Ray Toro
Summary: AU, In the year 2030 The United States is a third world country and Chicago is divided into sectors that strain relations between the social classes to the breaking point. Pete is a member of an underground movement; Patrick is the sheltered son of a rich business man. They've nothing in common but when circumstances force them together something that was missing in each of them clicks into place.
A/N: My first venture in to Bandom. Setting based off TV Show Dark Angel, however there are no X5s.

The silence had been dragging on for some time now and Pete wasn’t exactly sure what to do about it. Joe had left a few minutes earlier to take a shower. Neither of them had mentioned anything but they both knew the other needed to wash off the filth from the day. Blood, sweat and soot layered their skin on top of the usual dirt and grime. It had been a long day. Not to mention that Joe had sat on a train for upwards of ten hours beforehand, which was the only reason Pete, let him get away with calling the first shower and leaving him alone with Patrick.

Patrick hadn’t said anything since Joe had confirmed his suspicions. God, Pete wished he’d say something. Anything, tell him off, storm out or threaten to turn them in even, but nothing… Patrick just sat in the ugly gray chair Mikey had given them, looking around the room and purposely not making eye contact.

Pete watched Patrick carefully as his eyes scanned the room taking in his surroundings. He adjusted the hat on his head, which Pete had already picked up as a nervous habit of Patrick’s, and continued to look around. The thing about Patrick Stump, Pete concluded, was that he was completely unaware of how fucking gorgeous he was. His strawberry blonde locks fell gracefully against his pale cheek as his hat settled comfortably. The long fingers that had just run over the bill, descended to lie splayed against denim covered thighs. It was just…someone should have told him by now that the way he moved had the ability to drive people crazy. Seriously, because Pete was pretty much convinced that he was going insane.

Part of Pete had hoped that Patrick would run away, arms flailing, when Joe had dropped the bomb. Really, having Patrick afraid of him would be so much easier than this quiet acceptance. Acceptance meant that Pete had a chance, that maybe Patrick had second thoughts about The Party having met them, and that maybe he would be around more now.

Gerard would be fucking thrilled to have the son of the most powerful man in the city on their side. Pete had to begrudgingly admit that Patrick could probably get his hands on the type of information Party Members only had wet dreams about. He had to weigh that against his sanity though, because having Patrick around was already screwing with his delicate balance. Delicate balance, meaning Pete had to hold himself back from reaching over and playing with Patrick’s hair like a pre-teen girl.

“You play?”

“What?” Pete asked

“Do you play?” Patrick motioned to the corner where Pete and Joe kept their instruments.

“Oh…yeah, you?”

“I play a bit” Patrick nodded finally looking at Pete.

Okay, so there was something he could use to distract himself. Pete stood up going to the corner and picking up both his bass and Joe’s guitar.

“Which one do you want?” Pete held up both instruments in front of Patrick.

“Uh…” Patrick held out his hand taking Joe’s guitar and gently settling it into his lap.

Both instruments were acoustic, seeing as electricity in the higher sectors was unreliable at best. Pete’s bass was worn and the grain which was once a glossy rose red color was now faded and stained. It still worked well though and the feeling of it in his hands felt like nothing else in the world. It made him feel sane and calm; he needed that at the moment.

Across from him Pete watched as Patrick wrapped his fingers around the neck of Joe’s black guitar and began to strum softly. Testing to see that all of the strings were tuned, Patrick took his time plucking each one. The smile that lit up Patrick’s face once he was satisfied made something in Pete’s stomach flip-flop.

“So what do you want to play?” Patrick asked.

“I don’t know,” Pete returned the smile, “What is it you kids listen to?”

“Kids?” Patrick raised an eyebrow, “exactly how old are you?”

“Twenty-three, but I don’t really listen to anything post-pulse.”

Patrick shrugged, “Me neither.” Then he began to strum a familiar tune.

Pete hoped Patrick hadn’t heard his sudden intake of breath. The notes flooded the room, ringing out clearly through the small apartment and slowly Pete began to join in. All Pete could think of was playing the right chords in the right time, because if he let himself think about other things he would be lost. Things like how in the world Patrick had known to play this song or how amazing and natural it felt to be playing with Patrick in the first place.

Then Suddenly Patrick opened his mouth.

“You have never been in love,
Until you’ve seen the stars,
Reflect in the reservoirs.”

Patrick’s voice was stunningly beautiful. Strong and clear, it overtook all of Pete’s other thoughts until all he could think of was Patrick’s singing and the contented look on his face. His pink lips as they moved over the words, his closed eyes and face tilted slightly towards the ceiling.

“And you have never been in love,
Until you’ve seen the dawn rise,
Behind the home for the blind,

We are the pretty petty thieves,
And you’re standing on our street…”

Pete watched as Patrick lowered his head and opened his eyes, looking directing into his own. When had his eyes become that intense shade of blue?

“...where Hector was the first of the gang
with a gun in his hand
and the first to do time
the first of the gang to die. Oh my.
Hector was the first of the gang
with a gun in his hand
and the first to do time
the first of the gang to die. Oh my.

You have never been in lo-”

Pete was unsure of when exactly he’d moved from his seat on the couch and over to Patrick, but suddenly he found himself kneeling on the floor in front of Patrick and his lips were covering those of the younger boy.

For a moment after the music stopped Patrick was still and Pete’s eyes widened as he realized where he was and what he was doing. Then suddenly Patrick’s lips began to move against his own and Pete’s eyes fell shut as he sat the bass aside. Patrick’s lips were dry but soft as they slid against his own and Pete found himself wrapping his arms around Patrick’s torso and pulling him closer.

Patrick kissed like he sang, with ease and confidence. Pete wondered how someone as socially inept as Patrick claimed to be could kiss like that.

Slowly the kiss ended as the two broke apart to breathe in much needed air.

“This is the weirdest day ever.” Pete broke into a bright bout of laughter seeing Patrick’s resigned face. “What?” Patrick asked trying to fight a smile of his own, “It is…”

“I’m sorry” Pete smiled as he palmed Joe’s guitar setting it aside.

“Sorry you kissed me or sorry you laughed?” Patrick smirked.

“Neither really” Pete pondered, “Forget I said anything.”

Pete could see Patrick formulating some kind of comeback but quickly leaned forward, kissing him again before he could get it out. Fingers trailed paths across Pete’s ribs and onto his back until his chest was flat against Patrick’s. In the back of his mind a little voice was yelling that Pete should stop, that this kid was a Stump and this could only end badly. Patrick’s hot tongue flicked against his own and Pete promptly told the little voice to fuck off.

Patrick wasn’t sure what had prompted him to play that song. It had always been one of his favorites but he could have just as easily played something by David Bowie or his old fall back, Prince. In reality he hadn’t even thought about it, just began to play and he’d heard the shocked squeak from Pete across the room a second later when he’d begun to play along.

It was all going okay though, because Patrick hadn’t missed a note and he’d known that he could sing pretty well. Andy had always said that when they started their band, Patrick was taking lead vocals. It had felt natural to play with Pete, like it was something that he’d done a thousand times over. The steady rhythm coming from Pete and the harmony coming from himself blended seamlessly. Good things don’t last though and Patrick really should have remembered that before he’d moved.

He’d felt the sudden urge to move and before he knew what he was doing Patrick had looked up, and yeah, not the best idea ever, because there were Pete’s amazing mocha eyes looking right back.

He saw Pete move, it was quick and without warning, but when his lips fell against his, he wasn’t sure it was real. Then Pete stilled and he was sure. So he did the only things that felt natural, he surged forward, moving his lips against Pete’s.

Thought’s raced in his mind. Things like ‘This. Is. Not. A. Good. Idea.’ and ‘You’ll get your heart broken.’ And yeah, Patrick’s heart was already involved. Which really made no sense because Patrick had always been the practical one, whatever else he was, he was definitely a matter-of-fact kind of guy. And the fact of the matter in this situation was that Pete was a Party member and Patrick was the son of Richard Stump. There was no way that this…whatever it was, could work. So the fact that all Patrick could think about was getting his tongue into Pete’s mouth was a little out of character.

After Patrick had informed Pete that yes, this was the weirdest day in the history of anyone’s life ever, and Pete had laughed that infectious laugh and pulled him close again, Patrick stopped thinking. There was really no need for it. Not when Pete was gasping slightly as Patrick bit down slightly on his bottom lip, nor when Pete’s arms were wrapped around him, bringing him as close as possible.

It was only when they separated again, slowly and with hands still roaming over each other’s bodies trying to map out the new territory, that Patrick’s thoughts began to over power him.

“Pete!" Joe ran into the room wrapped in a towel “Sector cops!”

“What are you…”

“They’re here! A black and white just stopped outside the building!” Joe looked over at them “Fucking move!”

Pete grabbed Patrick’s hand and followed the barely covered Joe back into the apartment.

“But shouldn’t we be getting out of here?” Patrick asked motioning to the door.

“Daring escape is more our style” Pete winked back at him, as they burst through one of the bedroom doors, quickly closing it behind them. A loud bang came from the living room a moment later and Patrick instantly recognized the sound of splintering wood and military boots against unfinished floors. In front of him Pete leaned over, moving a large green trunk and revealing a door cut into the wooden floor.

“Pete” Joe called and threw him a gun.

Patrick just watched as Pete nodded and held the weapon up pointing it at the closed door. Patrick could see the shadows of the cops beneath the door as they shuffled closer.

“You first Troh, no one wants to see that.” Pete smirked motioning to Joe’s towel.

Joe jerked the trap open, revealing a sturdy looking ladder leading down into the dark. Joe climbed in, clutching a gun of his own and watching the door the entire time. As soon as he was out of sight, Pete grabbed Patrick behind the neck bringing him forward until their lips crashed together.

“Your turn” he said turning back to the door.

Patrick took a deep breath and maneuvered himself over the ladder before looking back at Pete.

“Don’t worry, I’ll follow.”

Patrick smiled and then suddenly another loud crash sounded and the door to the bedroom was open and two men with bigger guns than Pete’s were standing in the room. Patrick didn’t think, he just grabbed the back of Pete’s leather jacket and pushed him down the ladder ahead of himself.

Gunfire sounded and suddenly Patrick felt himself falling down through the trap door.

A/N: Song- ‘The First of the Gang to Die’ by Morrissey

Chapter 7

Live Out Your [Karma]- Book 1- Chapter 5

Sat, 16 Feb 2008 02:13:28 GMT

Title: Live Out Your [Karma]- Book 1 (Chapter 5)
Featuring/Pairings: Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump(FOB), Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Jon Walker/Spencer Smith(PA!TD), Ray Toro
Summary: AU, In the year 2030 The United States is a third world country and Chicago is divided into sectors that strain relations between the social classes to the breaking point. Pete is a member of an underground movement; Patrick is the sheltered son of a rich business man. They've nothing in common but when circumstances force them together something that was missing in each of them clicks into place.
A/N: My first venture in to Bandom. Setting based off TV Show Dark Angel, however there are no X5s.

“What’s your name kid?” The Butcher asked with a sneer.

‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ Patrick thought, this was not good.

“My friend asked you a question” Gabe said stepping once again into Patrick’s personal space.

“P-Patrick” he finally answered.

“Well now,” The Butcher said holding up Patrick’s school ID card and tossing the wallet on the ground. “It seems that we’ve stumbled across the first son of ChiTown.” The shorter man reached into a pocket taking out a silver Swiss army knife.

Patrick stayed silent, cursing himself for rushing out of the diner like he did. Joe and Pete may not have been good guys, may have even been Party members, but he was pretty sure they weren’t going to shank him under a dark overhang. Then again, Patrick thought, it was possible that the only reason they hadn’t was because they were unaware of who he truly was.

The Butcher scooted in closer as Gabe held his back against the wall. The blade was warm from having been in the Butcher’s pocket and contrasted with the cold skin of Patrick’s neck, sending goose bumps down over his shoulders and torso.

“Listen here Stump; this is what’s going to happen…” Patrick tried to listen to what scary man number one was saying, honestly he did, but he was a little distracted by the sick feeling of a sharp blade pressed against the taught skin of his neck.

Stump, god he hated his name at that moment, even more so than usual. It wasn’t like he had a choice in who his father was. He didn’t build an empire; he didn’t run a multibillion dollar company. He was just born. That’s all he’d done, been born, but that seemed to be enough to set most people off.

“Hey!” Patrick had never been so glad to hear anyone’s voice in his life, “Back up!”

The two men jumped back immediately and Patrick sighed in relief as he turned to see Pete and Joe walking towards them.

“No, you don’t understand, man” The Butcher said quickly. “This is the Stump kid!”

Shit, now Patrick was going to go right back to being held up.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time” Pete stopped a couple feet from The Butcher.

“Fine man” The Butcher conceded, backing up and pushing Gabe along with him. “He’s all yours.”

No one moved until the two thugs passed the end of the overhang and turned a corner, walking out of sight. Patrick slowly looked over at Joe and Pete.

“Thanks.” Patrick really hoped this meant that they weren’t going to try to hurt him now.

“Are you okay?” Pete moved forward and resting his hands on Patrick’s shoulders as he looked him over. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine” Patrick looked up at Pete, who nodded stiffly back and let his arms fall back to his sides.

“That’s good” Pete said.

Patrick’s gaze still held Pete’s and for some reason he was finding it hard to move his eyes elsewhere. There was something about the combination of Pete’s golden skin and charcoal black hair that called for his attention. It was like starring into the sun, you know it’s probably not good for you, but curiosity always seems to get the better of you and you end up with the image burned into your retinas.

Finally Pete seemed to notice the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over them, and looked away from Patrick. The younger boy sighed, whether from relief or disappointment, even he wasn’t sure. Looking down, Patrick noticed his belongings still strewn across the ground and bent down to pick them up.

“Here” Pete crouched down to help.

Patrick gathered his wallet and his ID, which was now covered in some foreign substance that he didn’t really want to think about. They’d taken his SimCell and the twenty bucks but at least he wasn’t dead. A hand reached in front of him and Patrick looked up to see Pete handing him the rest of the wallet’s contents.

“Thanks” Patrick reached out, his hand brushing Pete’s as he took the pictures and library card.

“No problem” Pete replied, not taking his eyes off Patrick. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Patrick asked as they both stood up.

“For earlier, in the diner” Pete rubbed the back of his neck absently. Apologizing obviously wasn’t something he did often.

“You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true” Patrick sighed and stuffed his wallet into his back pocket.

“No I-”

“Listen,” Joe interrupted, “can we save the soul penetrating explanations for later? We should probably get out of here before that idiot Gabe blabs to too many people.”

“Right, come on.” Pete led Patrick with a soft touch on the elbow, “You’ve got to come with us.”

Patrick simply walked with Pete trying not to feel the heat from his fingers seeping through his clothes.

Home sweet home” Joe announced as they entered their apartment. Patrick followed him in and Pete shut the door behind them.

The apartment was small and from the door he could see it in its entirety. A small kitchen set off to the left, to the right two nicely sized windows looked out onto a barren street, or would have if they weren’t covered in newspaper. In front of him a small but nicely lived in sitting room welcomed any visitors that happened to come by and two doors lined the opposite wall, which Patrick assumed were the bedrooms.

“Take a seat” Pete motioned Patrick into the living room.

Patrick walked in and took a seat on a slightly stained gray chair while Pete and Joe took spots on the sofa across from him.

The situation was awkward at best, the two older men not knowing what to do with the son of Richard Stump and Patrick still not knowing what to make of them at all. One thing was for sure though, and that was that Pete and Joe were more than just your average guys. From the nods of respect in the diner to the way the man with the knife simply left Patrick alone when Pete told him to, it all indicated that they were high up on some sort of food chain.

It all made Patrick so confused because Joe was such a normal guy. The sweet woman in the diner had hugged him and called him “baby boy.” He liked Star Wars for fucks sake! What kind of terrorist fanboyed Star Wars? Then there was Pete, and he was, well Pete. He had a dangerous side yeah, that was obvious, but he’d also saved Patrick from The Butcher and Gabe. He’d grabbed his hand after the shooting and dragged Patrick to safety, and now sitting here in the two men’s apartment he realized that Pete had taken Patrick to the safest place he knew.

It was all juxtaposed though, against Pete’s outburst about Primaries and Joe’s obvious disdain for the now deceased Maja. Nothing made sense. He felt safe one minute and threatened the next and, for a moment as he hung out a window, over come by Pete’s beauty as he laughed.

“We’re all going to have to be honest I think.” Joe said, breaking the tense silence.

Patrick looked up from under the brim of his hat, his eyes landing on the two men in front of him, “What do you want to know?” he shrugged. If he wanted honesty he supposed he could start the ball rolling.

“Why didn’t you tell us who you were?” Pete asked.

“Oh yeah,” Patrick smirked, “that would have been a smart move on my part. No offense, but I have no idea who you guys are. All I know is that one minute I was talking to some agent my father had sent and then she was dead and I was in the higher sectors with you two.”

“Touché” Joe conceded looking at Pete.

“Are you Party members?”

“Wow, you don’t beat around the bush do you?” Joe smiled.

“I’ve seen the way people react to you two. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“I suppose you think Party members are all Molotov throwing anarchists.” Pete looked up daring him to deny it.

“Honestly,” Patrick smiled self-deprecatingly, “I’m confused.” Pete and Joe waited for him to continue. “You need to understand” he began, “that I haven’t stepped foot on US soil in over five years, all I have to go on are the stories. I’ve heard about the fire bombings and the riots because that’s what gets ratings, that's what people abroad are shown. It’s just that you two…you don’t seem like you would do those things. You seem like normal guys.” Patrick couldn’t help but look at Pete as he spoke, “You’ve had lots of opportunities to take advantage of me, and you haven’t. I know people I went to school with who would have been less accommodating.” Pete tried to hide a smirk but Patrick saw it anyway. “So I don’t know what to think. I am a Primary; I grew up in sector one and I don’t know how to function outside of it- fuck I barely know how to function inside of it- So when you ask me if I think Party members are a bunch of raging pyromaniacs, I don’t really know how to respond.” There was silence for a moment. Patrick letting out a deep breath and the two friends across form him looking him over critically.

Once again Patrick couldn’t help but think of the situation as completely bizarre. Things like this just didn’t happen. Two Party members, and Patrick was pretty sure that was what they were, didn’t find themselves sitting in quiet contemplation with the son of one of their enemies. It was just too surreal.

“Okay,” Joe nodded “We’re going to lay it out there for you…” he turned to Pete seeming to ask permission and when Pete didn’t protest he continued. “We are Party members.”

Patrick just nodded, he wasn’t aware of how to respond, but he was less scared than he thought he should be.

Chapter 6

snatched from sassywitch

Fri, 15 Feb 2008 03:33:43 GMT

1. Pick 15 of your favourite movies.
2. Go to IMDb and find a quote from each movie.
3. Post them here for everyone to guess.
4. Fill in the film title once it's guessed.
5. NO GOOGLING/using IMDb search functions.

1.Wait... No! I mean, can't we just, like, kick this old school? Like, I have the baby, put it in a basket and send it your way, like, Moses and the reeds?

2.Way I remember it, albatross was a ship's good luck, 'til some idiot killed it. Yes, I've read a poem. Try not to faint.

3.I'm standing where my, uh, living room was and it's not here because my house is gone and it's an Ultimart! You can never go home again, Oatman... but I guess you can shop there.

4.You know, at one time, I used to break into pet shops to liberate the canaries. But I decided that was an idea way before its time.

5.You're a wanker, number nine!

6.You see life is like that. We change, that's all. You see, the guy I am now is not the guy I was then. If the guy I was then met the guy I am now he'd beat the shit out of me. Those are the facts.

7. I am a very important man. I've got a tower.

8. You wanna be really great? Then have the courage to fail big and stick around. Make them wonder why you're still smiling.

9. Is it always this much fun? Or is today someone's birthday?

10. You can't expect to wield supreme executive power just because some watery tart threw a sword at you.

Live Out Your [Karma] Chapter 4

Thu, 14 Feb 2008 01:51:43 GMT

Title: Live Out Your [Karma]- Book 1 (Chapter 4)
Featuring/Pairings: Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump(FOB), Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Jon Walker/Spencer Smith(PA!TD), Ray Toro
Summary: AU, In the year 2030 The United States is a third world country and Chicago is divided into sectors that strain relations between the social classes to the breaking point. Pete is a member of an underground movement; Patrick is the sheltered son of a rich business man. They've nothing in common but when circumstances force them together something that was missing in each of them clicks into place.
A/N: My first venture in to Bandom. Setting based off TV Show Dark Angel, however there are no X5s.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Patrick looked down as his body balanced precariously through the half opened window.

“Uh…hey”

Pete Smirked, “hi”

“So, I know what this looks like” Patrick began, “but man, I just uh…really want to go home, you know?”

“So you’re climbing out the window of the men’s room?” Pete asked shifting his hips and placing his arms over his chest trying to suppress a smile.

“Pretty much” Patrick nodded.

Pete tried to hold a straight face, honest to god he did, but it was just too funny. The windowsill digging into Patrick’s stomach as his hands clutched on the side of the building while trying desperately to explain what his predicament. He felt the laughter bubble up and it all came out in what Pete hopped was a manly chuckle, but knew it probably wasn’t. Patrick glared at him from his precarious position in the window which only made Pete laugh harder clutching his stomach as it cramped.

“This is not funny” Patrick said, before a bright smile appeared on his face and he joined Pete in laughing at the ridiculous situation.

Pete hated that he couldn’t take his eyes away from Patrick’s smile as he laughed. He hated the way Patrick’s lips tilted up and the way the blood rushed to his perfect cheeks making them a rosy pink color. Most of all, Pete hated that he wanted to know what those lips felt like against his own.

What the hell was with him anyway? He didn’t do things like this, get crushes. Crushes were for thirteen year old girls with ponytails. Pete was a grown man, right hand man to the Way brothers. He was fucking hardcore. People like him didn’t get crushes on people like Patrick. Unless of course people like Patrick happen to smile like that and lick their dry lips in a way that could seem pornographic but on Patrick just looked innocent. Shit! He had to cut this out. This kid was going back where he came from as soon as possible.

“Pa-” Joe’s voice rang out in the bathroom “trick…What are you…Get down from there before you break something!”

Patrick’s laughing immediately stopped as if he’d just remembered why he was climbing through the window in the first place. He looked at Pete, and Pete simply raised an eyebrow.

“Shit” Patrick muttered and pushed himself back inside the window.

Pete shook his head smiling as he walked the rest of the way down the alley to the front of the building. He walked in the door just in time to see Patrick being led out of the bathroom by a very pissed off looking Joe Trohman. Joe threw Patrick down into the booth and sat down across from him.

Pete made his way over to the booth receiving the usual nods of respect from supporters. Looking up he saw Patrick taking in the scene and something hard seemed to set in his eyes. Pete didn’t want to think about why he felt disappointed that the smile had left Patrick’s face.

“How’d it go?’ Joe asked as Pete sat down next to Patrick.

“Fine” Pete shrugged.

“So” Patrick seemed to gather his courage, “are you guys going to let me go or what?”

“It’s not like we’re keeping you with us for our benefit” Pete looked over at him. What the hell…first Joe makes him look after the kid, and now the kid is complaining about it?

“Then why am I still here? What do you want? I only have like twenty bucks on me…”

“Fuck you, we’re not thieves.” Pete sneered

“Accept when we are” Joe smirked.

“Then what do you want? Why can’t I leave?” Patrick ignored Joe.

“Go ahead” Pete stood, “No one is gonna stop you.”

Patrick looked up at Pete warily “I can just go?”

“Yeah man, go. Good luck to you.” Pete felt his heart plummet and cursed himself silently.

“Pete…” Joe nagged.

Pete just cast a severe look his way. “No he thinks he can make it out there, he thinks he knows what he’s doing, let him go!”

“What is your problem, man?” Patrick stood up and garnering the undivided attention of the entire diner.

“Nothing,” Pete reigned himself back in. “You think a little Primary like you can make it back to his sector all alone, be my guest.”

“Primary?”

“Yeah, you people in the low sectors that are only out for number one, Primaries” Pete explained.

“You know what?” Patrick said, “I’m done. I’m done being dragged around by two weird guys I don’t know, I’m done being shot at and I’m done having this conversation. Have a nice life, asshole.” Pete tried hard to keep a smile off his face as Patrick bumped his shoulder on the way out of the diner. The kid had balls.

“What was that all about?” Joe asked as Pete sat down again.

“He was pissing me off.”

“That was not pissed off that was…that was scared.” Joe looked confused.

“What?”

“Don’t bullshit me man, I’ve been your best friend since forever. I know the Wentz panic mode when I see it.”

“Whatever, the kid needed to go home and now he’s going home.”

“Okay, whatever you say” Joe shrugged and grinned up at Flo as she sat down his meal. “Thanks”

“Of course, sugarplum” She turned to Pete with a motherly smile, “You want anything, sweetie?”

“No I’m fine” Pete smiled half heartedly.

“Okay, you boys just holler if you need anything.”

Both boys nodded and Flo made her way across the floor to refill someone’s coffee. Joe dug into his plate of instant eggs and dry toast with vigor. Poor guy probably hadn’t had a bite to eat since before he’d gotten on the train the day before. Pete starred past him towards the window unconsciously chewing on his thumb nail.

“Hey,” Joe looked up at him with a sympathetic smirk, “people saw him in here with us. They know he’s off limits.”

“Yeah…” Pete knew Joe was right. Word traveled fast when someone new was spotted in the presence of one of the inner circle and if people knew he was somehow connected to the cause, they’d leave the kid alone.

Joe dug back into his meal, tucking in and pondering seconds, Pete turned his attention to the newswire scrolling across the adjacent wall.

“In other news” the reporter began, “a violent shooting took place at the Michigan Avenue Transit Station today, leaving one woman, sector leader Maja Ivarsson, dead. Ms. Ivarsson was sent to the station to retrieve the returning son of pharmaceutical tycoon Richard Stump.”

Pete’s eyes widened as a picture of Patrick flashed on the screen. “Holy…”

“What?” Joe asked following Pete’s line of sight to the screen.

“Patrick who was returning from school abroad is still missing” The reporter continued. “Mr. Stump is offering a one hundred thousand dollar reward for the return of his son.”

“We’ve got to find him” Pete was up and out of his seat before Joe had even finished his thought.

Patrick was pretty sure he was headed in the right direction, it was definitely the way they’d come. He could see the bridge they’d passed under up ahead and he had faith that he would find his way home without help. He was eighteen, he was self sufficient. If he could navigate the London underground system, the streets of Chicago should be no problem. At least that’s what he told himself as he rounded the corner to pass under the bridge. Once he was back at the station he could just find a payphone…wait a second, what the hell…he had a SimCell in his pocket!

Patrick reached into his pants sighing with relief when his fingers curled around the small box. Lifting the box up to eyelevel, he cursed himself for not thinking of using it in the first place. But hey, that was what panic and unfortunate attraction to short dark haired anarchists got you.

“Dial” he commanded and a hologram list of all of his contacts appeared before him. “Find Stump Corporation” several numbers under that heading appeared, “Find Richard St-“

“What have we here?” A hand reached out grabbing the SimCell from Patrick’s open palm.

“Hey!” Patrick’s protests were cut short as another pair of hands shoved him against the wall.

“That’s a pretty piece of technology, you’ve got there. What is a rich boy like you doing all the way down in Sector seven, eh?” The man that held him was tall and while not bulging with muscles was certainly strong enough to keep Patrick pinned.

“He asked you a question” The man holding Patrick’s SimCell challenged, “What is a delicate thing like you, doing down here?”

“Nothing, I’m just- just passing through”

“Just passing through he says,” the man with the phone looked at his partner, “Well that’s just so very convenient for us isn’t it, Gabe?”

“Very” Gabe nodded stepping back from Patrick.

“Empty your pockets” the other man said in a bored tone.

Patrick sighed, of course this had to happen, it was his luck. “There” he said, handing over his wallet. “That’s all I’ve got.”

The two men held their prize looking through the brown leather and slipping the few bills inside, out and stuffing them into their pockets.

“This is well made,” the tall one, Gabe, said looking at the wallet. “Is this real leather?”

“Yeah, take it” Patrick answered.

“I will, thanks” he said making it clear that Patrick’s permission was not required.

Patrick leaned back against the wall of the tunnel as the men started flipping his various cards and pictures out of the wallet and onto the dirty ground.

“Hold on a minute” the shorter man said, “are you reading what I’m reading?”

“What is it Butcher?”

“Look here” the shorter man pointed to Patrick’s school ID card.

Chapter 5

Sat, 09 Feb 2008 03:23:22 GMT

Title: Live Out Your [Karma]- Book 1 (Chapter 3)
Featuring/Pairings: Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump(FOB), Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Jon Walker/Spencer Smith(PA!TD), Ray Toro
Summary: AU, In the year 2030 The United States is a third world country and Chicago is divided into sectors that strain relations between the social classes to the breaking point. Pete is a member of an underground movement; Patrick is the sheltered son of a rich business man. They've nothing in common but when circumstances force them together something that was missing in each of them clicks into place.
A/N: My first venture in to Bandom. Setting based off TV Show Dark Angel, however there are no X5s.

They’d been walking for just over twenty minutes when Pete stopped and told Joe and Patrick to wait in the diner. Joe had simply nodded and held the door of the Kathmandu Diner open for Patrick. For his part, Patrick simply nodded and headed inside.

There is an odd feeling that comes to someone when they are the center of attention in a room full of strangers. Patrick had never liked that feeling, so it was with trepidation that he raised his head to stare back at the patrons of the small diner. No one bothered to hide their confusion at his presence and Patrick could feel the blood rushing to his cold cheeks.

After a moment of silence Joe stepped forward and led the way to an empty booth in the back of the restaurant. The others went back to eating or prior conversations they had been having. Patrick couldn’t help but notice as several customers gave Joe a nod of respect as they made their way towards the table.

Sitting down, Patrick pulled his bag close and tugged his hat over his eyes to deter any further attention. It was obvious to everyone, including him, that he didn’t fit in. Everyone in the diner seemed to be wearing worn clothes in dark warm colors. Many sported tattoos and piercings which would rival even Andy’s collection and many of them seemed to be in deep conversation.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Patrick looked up to see a middle aged woman in a long tunic talking to Joe.

“Hey, Flo” Joe smiled softly leaning up into a hug as the woman wrapped her arms around him.

“It’s about time you got back here. You’ve been missed baby boy.”

“Thanks, it’s good to be home.”

“You want the usual, honey?”

“Yeah that’d be great.” Joe grinned.

“Okay, and for you, sugar?”

Patrick blanked as the woman turned her attention to him; “Umm…” he stuttered nervously, “c-coffee?”

“Coming right up.” She winked and walked back towards the counter.

Patrick sat back in the booth, playing with the torn vinyl beneath his fingers. This was not good. The situation he was in would just not do. Lost in Chicago with two men he knew nothing about, well except that they had business in the higher sectors and ran away after people were murdered. All he could think was how truly and royally fucked he was. He was probably going to end up mugged and bleeding in some alley. Joe looked up at him from across the table. It was probably going to be at the hands of this guy.

“You really are scared aren’t you?” Joe asked as if it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

Patrick didn’t bother to answer, instead casting his eyes elsewhere. The walls of the diner were painted a rich dust red and were covered in posters. One in particular caught his eye; stark white paper against the red wall, looking not nearly as old as the rest. In the center a black skeleton stood with a sword shoved past his ribs and through its red heart which bled from the wound. Even if Patrick hadn’t taken several Art History courses at Chilton, he would know that the artist had talent and a powerful message.

It wasn’t until he looked closer that he saw the emblem. There on the corner of the poster was a black heart flanked by dark bat wings. Patrick’s eyes widened. It was never said, but everyone in Chicago knew what the symbol meant. It was the calling card of The Party. He was sitting in a Party friendly coffee shop. No wonder people were staring at him, not only did he not fit in, he was the enemy.

Granted, Patrick didn’t know a lot about The Party, but he knew enough to know that people like him were detested. He’d heard the rumors, same as everyone else, even across the Ocean in London they’d reached him. Tales of men attacking the lower sectors, looting and setting fire to condos and apartment buildings. They were anarchists with no love for anything but destruction and lawlessness. Those were the people he was with and those nods of respect probably meant that Joe was some higher-up in, if not The Party, some rebel group. He had to get out of there. He needed to get as far away from the place as was humanly possible.

Patrick looked around, no one seemed to be paying him any type of close attention and Joe was busy typing something in to his old fashioned sidekick.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

Joe looked up giving him a critical look as if he was measuring the likelihood of Patrick running away. In the end though, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “No one’s stopping you. It’s in the back” he motioned down a short hallway.

“Okay” Patrick breathed and stood up to quickly make his way to the restroom.

Once inside Patrick slammed his back against the door, letting out a breath he barely knew he was holding. Not even two hours back in Chicago and he was in trouble. His father was going to love this.

Patrick shook his head, clearing his mind of all thought that did not revolve around getting out of the diner with out being noticed and finding his way to sector one. He just needed to keep focused and find a way home. Looking around, his eyes landed on a long, thin frosted window which lined the area above the sinks. ‘Well that’s one problem down.'

Pete did not like this situation, not one bit. Who did Joe think he was anyway? He didn’t have the right to tell him that he had to take care of some spoiled rich kid. The kid had been meeting Maja for fucks sake. He could be dangerous! Okay…Pete admitted, the boy was obviously not dangerous but still he wasn’t the kid’s mother. Patrick was an adult, or close enough to one, he could find his own way home.

Pete tried not to think about unassuming eyes and geeky retro clothing. After all, he wasn’t attracted to rich trust fund babies with no concept of the real world. If there was one thing that was apparent about Patrick, it was that he had no idea what it was like in the higher sectors.

Chicago’s class system was pretty well set out. Anyone living in sectors one through four generally had enough money to support themselves and their families. Those sectors were mostly populated by men who played foreign stock markets, people with bank accounts in the Cayman Islands, and of course managers and the CEO of the Stump Corporation. The rest of Chicago’s citizens made their homes in sectors five through eleven. Those were real people, living real lives. They didn’t ignore the world around them. They didn’t hide themselves away behind miles of barbed wire and sector police.

All the good that those people could use their money for…Pete could only shake his head thinking about it. Instead of helping to rebuild the crumbling city they were buying the newest game systems from Hong Kong and taking trips abroad to further distance themselves from the situation at home. People in the city were dying of hunger and exposure and those Primaries were off on vacation in the French fucking Riviera.

That’s why he fought, that’s why Gerard had picked him as his number two, because he knew the simple truth. If things didn’t change there wasn’t going to be a future, not for anyone. Not even for people like Patrick.

Pete sighed as he came to a stop in front of a rusty door. The number six which had been spray painted onto the warped metal was faded and barely visible but Pete was confident that it was the right place. Knocking twice in quick succession he waited. It was only a moment before he heard shuffling behind the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Sam. I’ve come for the rent.” Pete bellowed, a lock slid and in an instant the door was slid open.

“I won’t have the rent until the end of the week” A guy with blonde hair and a lip ring answered.

“Well it’s due now.”

“Well I don’t have it.”

“Listen man!” Pete reached out grabbing the man by the collar, “I don’t know who you think you’re dealing with here” Pete slipped the small envelope into the man’s shirt pocket “but we are not going to put up with your bullshit much longer.” Pete backed up, “I’ll be back, and you better have the money.”

The blonde man, Ben...Brian…Bob, something along those lines, retreated playing the part of the startled tenant well. Pete glared at him once more before walking away heading back towards the diner he’d left Joe and Patrick in.

For the most part, that’s how Pete’s job went; deliveries to Party contacts, running intelligence between the inner circle and supporters of the cause. It was less often that he got to do the real work, the work he was good at. He longed for a mission; it had been two months since he’d helped out with anything substantial. There hadn’t even been a protest in six weeks.

Pete had begun to wonder if Gerard was loosing his nerve, or his mind. It only took a second for him to remember Gerard’s intensity and conviction. There was a reason the man had formed The Party and that goal was no where near complete. So not loosing his nerve, but loosing his mind was still a possibility. Okay, probably not because Gerard was the most put together of all of them, with the possible exception of Mikey. Which only led Pete to one conclusion, the man was planning something big.

Pete couldn’t wait.

Pete kicked at the litter that covered the ground as he walked down the alley towards the front of the Kathmandu. He was going to have to figure out what to do with the kid. The right thing to do would be to take Patrick as far as sector four and let him find his way from there. Then again, Pete wasn’t feeling particularly charitable today, not when he still had drops of Maja’s blood dotting the front of his tee shirt.

‘Maja is dead. Shit. Maja is dead.’ Pete had hated her sure, loathed her to the core. After she’d sold The Party out they’d had to move their headquarters and those contacts that had been exposed were either forced to flee the city or had been rounded up by sector police and never seen again. Two years later and it was still hard to find people brave enough to risk helping The Party.

Nevertheless, there had been something between them, in the past, that brief moment of time where they were both content and happy to be together. He used to run his hands through that long blonde hair and kiss her overly red lips. They were, once upon a time, a couple. There was heat and passion and lust followed by yelling, revulsion and betrayal. Now that was all gone, he couldn’t look at her ever again with love or hatred.

Looking back though, Pete couldn’t say that he would have done anything different outside the station. Not even if he’d had the reflexes to jump and push her out of harm’s way. Not because he didn’t care or because he wanted revenge, but because the scariest part of the whole situation was that Pete was pretty sure that the bullet that shot Maja had been meant for Patrick.

Pete knew when things were wrong, it was instinct. He’d known the moment his father was taken by the government during a peaceful protest, he’d known the moment Maja had sold her soul and he knew the moment that echo sounded in the street that Patrick was in danger. He just didn’t know why or better yet, why he cared.

Honestly, who would want to hurt the kid anyway? He wasn’t intimidating; it wasn’t like he could do any serious damage to anyone. He was shorter than himself and Pete was the shortest member of the Party. Besides that, Patrick looked so innocent with his newsboy cap and his chunky glasses. He looked more like a geek than a threat. Though he did have a temper, Pete couldn’t help but smirk as he recalled Patrick demanding that they point him in the direction of the nearest taxi. The kid had balls considering he knew nothing about them.

Speaking of…”What the fuck are you doing?”

Patrick looked down as his body balanced precariously through a half opened window.

“Uh…hey"

Chapter 4

Wed, 06 Feb 2008 03:17:44 GMT

Title: Live Out Your [Karma]- Book 1- Chapter 2
Featuring/Pairings: Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump(FOB), Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Jon Walker/Spencer Smith(PA!TD), Ray Toro
Summary: AU, In the year 2030 The United States is a third world country and Chicago is divided into sectors that strain relations between the social classes to the breaking point. Pete is a member of an underground movement; Patrick is the sheltered son of a rich business man. They've nothing in common but when circumstances force them together something that was missing in each of them clicks into place.
A/N: My first venture in to Bandom.

Pete hated sellouts. He also hated leggy blondes with superiority complexes. So basically, Maja was the embodiment of all that Pete loathed. Even before she’d left The Party to make big money heading up the security team for the Primary sectors, she had been a self-righteous snob. Pete had never understood how she even ended up in The Party, let alone how she rose to a level that meant Pete actually had to deal with her. Everyone else that Pete worked with was dedicated and knew their stuff backwards and forwards. Maja just seemed to appear one day with a swagger all her own.

She had been a friend though. After Pete got past her sultry, self-obsessed persona he had found a girl who was realistic and clever in ways he could never be. She was an asset. They’d gone on several jobs together and he had never seen her slip up or fail to come out on top in a tight situation.

Eventually, they became close. Pete had trusted her with his cause and ultimately, his heart. She left the first without a second thought and the latter in several thousand pieces scattered across the floor of the apartment they had shared.

Breaking his heart was forgivable, after all he was Pete Wentz and even he knew that was a lot to handle sometimes. Leaving The Party and betraying their friends however, was different. The moment he’d found out that she’d sold their secrets to the highest bidder was the moment his heartache had been replaced with blinding rage.

There was a reason he was famous, a reason he was good at his job. An obscure past and a disloyal ex only added to the mystery.

“Pete!” Pete looked up to see his best friend exiting the station with his usual enthusiastic smile and a bounce in his step.

“Hey!” He returned as Joe’s long arms wrapped around him in a familiar greeting. “I missed you man!” Pete stepped back looking Joe over. “How were things?”

“Not too bad, not too bad.” Joe looked over Pete’s shoulder and stilled. “Maja” he sneered.

“Joseph” She returned with a bitter scowl.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Some of us have work to do.”

“What, You can’t practice being a backstabbing bitch in your own sector?”

Maja turned her attention to Joe ready to get in his face but Pete pushed an arm between them.

“Let’s get out of here.” Pete looked up at Joe, “We don’t need the attention Troh.”

Joe glared at Maja as she raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“Fine” he conceded.

Maja turned back to the doors and immediately spotted the person she was waiting for.

“Patrick!” She called.

Pete looked back seeing a short kid with thick glasses making his way over to Maja.

“What you babysitting now?” Joe scoffed.

Pete just looked at the kid trying to figure out his connection to Maja. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen. Strawberry blonde locks peeked out from under his newsboy cap which matched the hoodie under his black blazer. Tight jeans and black chucks rounded off the ensemble making him look like he stepped right out of a dated pre-pulse film.

“Maja?” he asked coming to a stop in front of them.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “How was your trip? Did all of your luggage make it?”

“Yeah, everything was fine.” He nodded, looking over at Pete and Joe who were by this time openly staring at him.

“Uh, hi?” he squeaked.

Pete couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s nervousness. Not a professional then.

“Hello, and who might you be?” Joe was master of the unassuming nice guy routine.

“I’m…”

“Oh no” Maja said standing between her two old friends and the kid, “You’re not getting any information Joseph, so beat it.”

Joe clutched his heart, “You wound me. I was only trying to be nice to young…Patrick was it?”

“What’s going on?” Patrick asked clutching the strap of his bag tightly.

“Don’t worry,” Maja looked back at him over her shoulder. “It’s nothing to conc-“

A loud bang echoed through the street, screams rang out and the next thing anyone knew they were all hugging asphalt.

Pete looked around trying to sort out what had happened. Setting his hands on the ground to push himself up he felt warm liquid coat his palm. Glancing up he saw fair blonde hair dyed red at the tips. Maja’s eyes were open but clouded and unmoving.

“What the fuck!?” He yelled as he pushed himself to stand. “Joe?”

“I’m fine.” Joe answered, getting to his feet behind him. “That was a hit.”

“So I gathered.”

Pete looked around and spotted Patrick on the ground next to Maja. He was frozen, not moving a muscle, simply gapping at the dead woman before him. Pete could already hear sirens and he knew that he and Joe had to be gone by the time they reached the station. He held out his hand to the kid.

“Come on, kid.” The kid blinked finally moving to gaze at Pete. “We have to go. You can either come with us or stay here and see if that bullet was meant for you” Pete had a feeling it was. “What’s your choice?”

Patrick grabbed hold of Pete’s hand letting him pull him to his feet. Joe tapped Pete on the shoulder and motioned to the flashing red lights coming towards the station. Pete simply nodded and started running in the opposite direction.

He never let go of Patrick’s hand.

The three of them didn’t stop running until they had made several quick turns down both alleyways and streets, skimming across a large park and under several bridges. By the time their speed slowed to something resembling a normal pace Patrick was completely turned around. He wondered if that was the entire point.

“So who are you, kid?” The shorter man finally asked, letting go of his hand.

Patrick was unsure of what to say, how much to give away. He didn’t know these people and the woman his dad had sent to pick him up didn’t seem to trust them. There had to be a reason for that, right? Not to mention that the woman was now dead…as in DECEASED.

Patrick shuffled his feet looking the smaller man over. He didn’t look dangerous. He stood slightly taller than Patrick; his leather jacket look scuffed and worn in, his hair was black and messy in a way that meant he had probably spent an hour or so perfecting it. His skin was bronze and smooth and he looked to be around Patrick’s age, maybe a bit older. The man, who seemed to notice his lack of response, looked over at Patrick and…holy shit was that eyeliner? It totally was. The black ring curved around his coffee colored eyes, bringing out the soft almond shape.

Patrick was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to get turned on by guys wearing eyeliner.

“You got a name or what, kid?”

“Well it’s not kid.” Patrick snapped.

“How old are you?” The other man asked.

Patrick kept his mouth shut. There was really no other solution. He didn’t know these guys and the fact that Maja had died right in front of them and they had just run away, wasn’t really giving him a sense that he should trust them. The tall guy just shrugged and ran a hand through his wavy hair.

“So what was it? Patrick?” The shorter man tried to recall.

Patrick paused, but nodded after only a slight hesitation.

“Well I’m Pete, this is Joe” He pointed his thumb towards the taller man.

“Wish I could say it was nice to meet you.” Patrick mumbled, which for some reason made Pete’s face light up.

“So what were you doing with Maja?” Joe asked looking down at him, “She wasn’t trying to turn you to the dark side was she?”

“The dark side?” Patrick smirked, “I wasn’t aware that I was dealing with the force.”

“You know Star Wars?” Joe looked astonished.

“Uh, yeah I used to watch it all the time when I was younger.”

“Wait, you actually got to watch the movies?” Joe was astonished, “All I got were the crappy paperbacks my bro pilfered from the library.”

“As interesting as this conversation has the potential to be” Pete deadpanned, “I think we had better figure out what we’re going to do with the kid.”

“Will you stop calling me that? I’m not a kid!” Patrick stopped abruptly, feeling himself starting to panic. “I don’t need taking care of, and you aren’t doing anything with me. I’m just looking to go home. So why don’t you point me to the nearest taxi and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Taxi?” Pete scoffed, “Have you even noticed where you are?”

Patrick looked around, trying to hide his sudden intake of breath behind a brave face. He didn’t recognize anything. He couldn’t see the tops of the skyscrapers from in between the abandoned brick buildings and he didn’t see any familiar names on the street signs. He was lost.

“Shit” he whispered.

“Yeah, I thought so.” Pete crossed his arms over his chest, “You’ve never been above sector three in your life have you?”

Joe smirked, the fact that the kid had been able to watch actual films when he was younger should have been his first clue. The kid was obviously some rich boy who Maja had been sent to fetch.

“We didn’t pass any sector posts though.” Patrick looked confused.

“Police only care if people are moving around in sectors four and below.” Pete shrugged, “Come on Troh we have a package to deliver.” Pete turned starting out down the street with his best friend in tow.

“You’re just going to leave me here?” Pete could hardly hear Patrick’s soft voice as he started off.

“Pete” Joe whispered in his friend’s ear, “He’ll get mugged.”

Damn Joe for having a conscience. Pete stopped, turning to look at Joe.

“He’s some spoiled rich brat, he’s not our responsibility. Our loyalty is to the cause and he’s not part of it.”

“What are you talking about?” Joe shook his head, “the cause involves equality among the classes, equal rights…this kid may not be part of the fight but that doesn’t mean he’s the enemy.”

Pete heard a shuffle of clothing and turned to see Patrick wandering away from them. “See he doesn’t even want our help.”

“Pete, he’s headed in the wrong direction.”

“Shit.” Pete frowned. “Wait! Patrick wait!”

chapter 3- The Kathmandu Diner.

Sun, 03 Feb 2008 20:47:49 GMT

Title: Live Out Your [Karma]- Book 1 (Chapter 1)
Featuring/Pairings: Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump(FOB), Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Jon Walker/Spencer Smith(PA!TD), Ray Toro
Summary: AU, In the year 2030 The United States is a third world country and Chicago is divided into sectors that strain relations between the social classes to the breaking point. Pete is a member of an underground movement; Patrick is the sheltered son of a rich business man. They've nothing in common but when circumstances force them together something that was missing in each of them clicks into place.
A/N: My first venture in to Bandom. Setting based off TV Show Dark Angel, however there are no X5s.

‘Karma is a bitch’ Pete thought, and it was evident every time he looked around downtown Chicago. The graffiti, the litter strewn streets and the abundance of dirt and grime over every available surface, left the city a shadow of its former beauty. Pete could remember how it was before ‘The Pulse’. Before the terrorists finally got wise and decided to hit America where it would hurt the most. No need to hijack airplanes or bomb city buses, in this day and age it was as simple as throwing a switch. An electromagnetic pulse, like the one that was set off above American airspace on July 6th 2017, had the ability to knock out all electronic devices. An EMP of that size also had the power to erase hard drives and back-up units within the blast radius. This included bank records, SS numbers and immigration information.

The United States became a third world country overnight.

Pete shuffled down the street, pulling his leather jacket tighter around his slight frame. Chicago winters were never kind and it seemed that even in mid October, the chill in the air could seep all the way to your bones. Checking his watch, Pete noted the time and hurried his pace down towards Michigan Avenue. The streets were quiet as usual, not many stayed in the city after The Pulse. (There was more luck finding shelter and food in the country where you could work your own land.) So Pete meandered on past the empty shop windows, passing only one market that still functioned on some level.

He could remember a time before, before the city he loved was deserted and cast off as another sign of the opulence that had brought the U.S. to its knees. There used to be taxis running up and down these streets. Vendors used to stand on street corners to sell him and his father hotdogs on the way to ballgames. His mom used to love to shop on this very street. The city used to be alive. Now it was a shell.

Now the skyscrapers that used to stand proudly above the city were empty and dark. No one could afford to pay rent on their own homes, forget paying six figures for office space. Abandoned cars lined the streets rusting from years of neglect because without money for gasoline there wasn’t much point in keeping them. They did make good shelter for squatters though, especially in the harsh Chicago winters.

Pete stepped off the curb passing the rusting silver fender of a Buick before checking the coast was clear and crossing the street. The train station was only a block down; Pete could see the steam rising from the top of the building and hear the quiet murmur of voices in the distance. Glancing at his watch again, he was glad to see that he was right on time. Joe would just be getting into the station.

Joe being a fellow party member and Pete’s best friend, though today was all about business. The cause always had a way of taking precedent. Still, he would be glad to see him. It had been two months since Joe had left Chicago and if Pete was going to be honest with himself, it had been torture. Joe was one of the only people in The Party that could stand him for any long amount of time. Pete wasn’t sure if it was because of his enthusiasm towards his friends and the cause or his apparent case of ADD which made it impossible for him to stay on one subject for more than two minutes at a time, and of course there were the mood swings... Either way most people just ended up confused when they came into contact with Pete Wentz.

That wasn’t to say that Pete wasn’t a valued member though. On the contrary, he had risen through the ranks so quickly that he was practically a legend. After the Way brothers there was no party member so well known.

Outside the station there were an array of people waiting for passengers from the once weekly train; men in suits, women with small children and one or two other people who just looked to be waiting for friends or family. The main entrance was guarded by a holy man perched upon a wooden box. He raised his voice spouting scripture and speaking about morality. People passed by him without a second glance. The street was lined with bicycle taxis ready to offer rides to those disembarking, ‘A mere two dollars across town’ one sign read, and down the street kids warmed their frozen fingers over a garbage fire.

Pete came to a stop just to the left of the building’s only exit. He grinned, just thinking about Joe’s over the top smile, which was sure to make an appearance once his friend stepped outside.

Out of the corner of his eye a flash of shocking blonde hair appeared followed by a cool scent of freesia. With a deep sigh Pete looked over his shoulder.

Just his luck.

“A little out of your territory aren’t you?”

The blonde looked up, rolling her eyes when she saw Pete “My job is not confined to one area of the city.”

Of course it was Pete’s luck that she would be here. He couldn’t just have one day where things went his way. All he wanted to do was his job. Meet Joe, get the package, take it to the drop and go home to catch up with his friend. Having an impromptu meeting with an ex-party member and lover, heavy on the ex, was not on his to do list.

“Ah but Maja, what will the city’s prosperous few do without you there to protect their assets?”

“They’ll survive for one afternoon.” Maja sighed turning away to watch the exit.

“Are you sure? Some suspicious character might find away to breach your precious velvet rope.”

“I doubt it, the police are helpful and I designed my system well.”

“You’re disgusting.” Pete sneered.

“Oh grow up Pete.” She smirked looking over at him, “The world is divided into two sects, and people who can afford to pay deserve a little protection.”

“That’s not what it is and you know it.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s institutionalized elitist bullshit.”

“Welcome to the new world Wentz.”

Patrick stuffed his backpack under his seat and buckled his seatbelt. The train was mostly vacant, and Patrick was glad that he didn’t have to sit next to anyone he didn’t know. It always made him nervous when strangers tried to start conversations with him on trips. They always ended up wanting to know his life story or tell him theirs. Either way, he just wasn’t interested.

Patrick pulled his iPod out from the pocket of his hoodie, placing the earbuds in his ears and starting up the music. If he was lucky no one would interrupt him and he could rest his eyes and listen to some classic Prince until he reached his stop. The kids at his boarding school had all thought he had odd taste in music, passing up popular Indian funk beats for dated music their grandparents listened to. Of course they had thought he was odd in other ways as well, so the music thing really wasn’t anything that drew too much attention.

Being a Stump, Patrick had been welcomed with open arms in England. After all, heritage and money went a long way abroad. Even that hadn’t been enough to make him fit in though. As soon as they caught sight of his thick, black rimmed glasses and pension for retro style the name was soon forgotten and Patrick became the music geek from America in 2B.

Americans were pretty much persona non grata in the world now; arrogance seemingly their downfall. He’d watched films in school about the fall of the great empire that was “America” but he didn’t really have any memories from before The Pulse. Which made all the images that floated across the screen seem obtuse and foreign. It just all so far removed from his own experience. Sure his mom had pictures framed of him and some kids at an amusement park for a birthday or something but he can’t remember a time when affluence like that went unchecked in his hometown.

Not that he’d been home all that often, or at all, in the last five years. His father thought it safer for him to stay abroad and he had no problem traveling around Europe or going home with Andy to Thailand. Coming home had never been high up on his list of priorities.

He’d been sent of to boarding school shortly after his mother had died, his father decided that raising a son didn’t fit well into his already hectic schedule. Running America’s only remaining multi-billion dollar corporation was no doubt more important than him, he was just one kid, and his father’s company was responsible for employing half the working population of Chicago. He couldn’t help but feel bitter about the fact that his father seemed to have made the decision so easily though.

So Patrick didn’t really have any family. Well unless he counted Hurley, which by the way, he totally did. Andy Hurley…damn Patrick missed that crazy vegan bastard already. Andy was the first and only person in Chilton Preparatory School to befriend Patrick. The drummer had a soft spot for strays, loners without a place in the world, which his three dogs, two cats and various other pets at home could attest to. Patrick wasn’t a pet though and everyone at Chilton had been shocked when the infamous Andy Hurley had befriended the kid the rest of the student body had already deemed unworthy.

They had bonded over their love for classic music and hatred of Chilton Prep. They devoted most of their time to reading comics and making plans to form a band, which never happened, because, as a rule, bands generally needed more than two people. Nevertheless, they’d been brothers in everyway that was important and Patrick had come to know Andy’s family even better than his own.

Hurley’s reputation also made school easier for Patrick, because no one was going to tease or pick on one of Andy’s friends. It just wasn’t done.

Andy was infamous for two reasons. First his family made everyone’s, even Patrick’s, family look like paupers. His father had invented some computer system that could protect files and banking systems from EMP.

In the days and weeks following The Pulse the world had been up in arms. Another electromagnetic pulse could go off any minute, anywhere in the world and there was no way to defend one's self. Banks were closing their doors and people were cashing out their stocks, confusion and paranoia reigned. Until that is, Andy’s father had found a solution. There wasn’t a country or reliable business on the planet that did not use the Hurley software system.

The second reason Andy Hurley was notorious was less to do with family and more to do with him. Or at least what people perceived him to be. Andy was eccentric, that much was true, besides being Vegan in an age when meat was a delicacy and soy was for the poor who could afford nothing more. Andy was also rumored to have been a martial arts expert, a snake charmer, a rebel party member, an Asian porn star and a demolitions expert.

Whenever he was asked about the rumors, Andy would simply answer that only one of them was true and leave the guy guessing. Patrick was the only one who knew it was all complete bullshit. The only skill Hurley had, besides being a kick ass drummer, was an amazing aptitude for computer hacking. Andy could get anything, any time to any one. He was golden.

A beep sounded from Patrick’s pocket, interrupting the chorus of When Doves Cry. Picking up his SimCell Patrick held the small box in front of him.

“Answer” he directed and a small holograph of his best friend popped up.

“Where are you?” Andy said looking confused.

“I’m on the train home.”

“Shit, you’re still traveling? You should have just come home with me again.”

“It’s not like winter holidays Hurley, school is over now.”

“So what? You could still come home with me.”

“I have a job waiting for me here.’ Patrick sighed, this was not the first time they’d had this conversation.

“I’d pay you!”

“You’d pay me to come and live with you and Thailand?”

“Yeah”

“Dude, do you know how wrong that would look?” Patrick laughed at Andy’s annoyed expression, “Hurley heir: concubine scandal! What would your father say?”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” Patrick’s expression softened, “I could get you a job here.” He pressed, “You were just bitching about how you didn’t want to go back to ChiTown anyway.”

“I know Hurls, but I have some stuff I have to take care of here first. Maybe after all the family stuff is over with, I could come and visit.”

“Fine, but it had better be soon Stump.” The holograph pointed menacingly.

“Wild horses, man.” Patrick shook his head in accession.

“Okay, good. Well I have to go, work work work.”

“So in other words Reiko is there and you’re going to be busy for the next three minutes.” Patrick smirked as he mentioned Andy’s girlfriend.

“Fuck off!” Andy laughed. “I’ll talk to you soon?”

“Of course” Patrick waved his goodbye and Andy’s image disappeared.

chapter 2- Pete hated sellouts.

Karma- The Files

Fri, 11 Jan 2008 03:22:55 GMT

Title: Live Out Your [Karma]- Book 1 (The Files)
Featuring/Pairings: Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump(FOB), Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Jon Walker/Spencer Smith(PA!TD), Ray Toro
Summary: AU, In the year 2030 The United States is a third world country and Chicago is divided into sectors that strain relations between the social classes to the breaking point. Pete is a member of an underground movement; Patrick is the sheltered son of a rich business man. They've nothing in common but when circumstances force them together something that was missing in each of them clicks into place.
A/N: My first venture in to Bandom.

The Files: An Introduction to the characters of Karma.

Name: Patrick Martin Stump
Date of Birth: April 27th, 2012

Patrick Stump was only five years old when unnamed terrorists set off an Electromagnetic pulse over the United States, subsequently leaving his hometown of Chicago in panic and ruin. Of course, being five and the son of the nation’s only remaining multi-billionaire meant that Patrick didn’t really notice a lot of changes. Cloistered away in sector one, Patrick spent his formative years at home in a skyline penthouse.

Perhaps the only noticeable change in Patrick’s life was the view from his bedroom window. Where once he saw the lush green of the park and streets heavy with commuter traffic, Patrick only saw overgrown patches of grass and abandoned cement roads. Patrick knew that things had changed for others, but it was hard to comprehend when their housekeeper Rita still woke him every morning with a stack of pancakes and a glass of OJ. He would hear his father’s business partners complaining about upheaval in the outlying neighborhoods, of the need for police protection of some sort. He saw the sector posts being erected and the barbed wire fencing going up to separate the different neighborhoods. Even at a young age Patrick could feel that something about it wasn’t quite right.

Nevertheless, life at the Stump household went on with private tutors and a doting mother who took every opportunity to play board games and listen to music with her son. On week days Patrick would hurriedly rush through his school lessons so he could join his mother in the library to read and play games. On the weekends they would curl up in the living room and pick out ancient albums to listen to. His mother’s collection was the largest in the city, having grown in size through each member of her family dating back to the early twentieth century. David Bowie, Elvis Costello, Prince, The Clash, Hardcore, Alternative, Jazz, Blues, Pop... It was from these sessions that Patrick developed his love of music and his desire to learn to play.

By Patrick’s eighth birthday his lessons had lengthened to include musical instruction. Piano, guitar and drums were his favorites.

Besides being responsible for Patrick’s passion for music, his mother was also responsible for opening Patrick’s eyes to the world around him. At thirteen Patrick’s mother succumbed to a year long battle with cancer and Patrick was faced with going back home with only his distant father for company. He’d snuck away from the wake and made it all the way to sector five before he’d been struck by his surroundings.

He came to a stop outside a large warehouse where a large group of people were gathered and a man stood atop a truck dock speaking in a mighty voice. He was shouting something about the police and hunger and inequality running rampant and Patrick knew instinctively that he didn’t belong. That he was intruding on something he couldn’t possibly understand. For the first time he was at odds with the people around him, he was an outsider.

That uneasy feeling would follow him all the way across the ocean when his father sent him off to boarding school the next week. Luckily though, it was there that he would meet his best friend…

Name: Andrew John Hurley
Date of Birth: May 31st 2012

Andy Hurley is the Golden child of the world’s leading software pioneer. His family makes their home in ultra fashionable country of Thailand. Which is where Andy spends the majority of his time when not at boarding school in England. He often brings his best friend Patrick home over breaks as well, sharing with him the local nightlife and his love of the culture.

Andy’s techno savvy father is balanced by his liberal free spirited mother who encourages her son to express his feelings and emotions through music, movement and body art. As a result, Andy got his first tattoo at thirteen, and though he now regrets his choice of Splinter from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, he sees it as a right of passage.

At Chilton, Andy is the go to guy. He is respected for the ability to get whatever anyone wants, whether it is contraband or simply risqué, he has the discreet skill which earns him a reputation mired in myth.

Name: Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III
Date of Birth: June 5th 2007

Pete Wentz was born with an abnormally long name and little else. He lived in a middle class neighborhood with his mother, father and siblings until age ten when The Pulse hit America. Pete remembers July 6th 2017 with perfect clarity. It had started out like any other day, except that Pete’s alarm clock hadn’t sounded to rouse him from bed like it normally did. Opening his eyes, he could see the sun beaming in through the small space between his curtains.

With a start he had jumped out of bed, his mother would kill him if he missed the bus again. That’s when he’d noticed how quiet the house was. There were no sounds coming from rest of the apartment, not of his mother cooking breakfast or the twins running around making a racket before they left to catch their own bus. It was silent.

Pete had slowly opened his door, coming out into the hallway, still he heard nothing. He had made his way to James and Alex’s room first only to open the door and find the precocious six year olds still sound asleep in their matching race car beds. Slipping out and down the hall quietly, he’d then swung open the door to his parent’s room. His mother and father were sitting in silence, arms wrapped around each other, looking out the window onto the unusually still city street. Pete knew immediately that something was terribly wrong.

Pete’s family lost everything. What little they had in savings was gone, his father’s position as a civil rights lawyer became superfluous and schools shut down only to be opened months later with the help of sub par student teachers and out dated text books. Yet, in the midst of the city’s blind panic Pete’s father still tried to provide for his family.

However, in the unstable aftermath that was post-pulse America, Peter Wentz Jr. soon found that the system was working against him. Not only against him, but the majority of the middle and lower classes as well. Unemployment was at a staggering all time high and little was being done about it, food was scarce and hospitals were running out of provisions to take care of the many injuries, whether self inflicted or results of mass hysteria. With bank records destroyed by the EMP no one could afford to shop at the markets and hospitals had no way to pay for prescription drugs or the equipment they needed to take care of their patients.

Pete was eighteen when the city was divided into 9 sectors. Chicago’s affluent population settled in sectors 1-3 while 4 served as a buffer between the rich and the “unwashed masses.” Pete’s father saw this as a slap to the face to all of those people working hard to regain what they had. He put his training as a lawyer to work; he spoke out against the city’s policies, leading demonstrations and sit-ins. At home, he spoke to his sons about justice and equality.

Peter Wentz Jr. was disappeared by the government later that year after speaking out at a workers rally.

Pete felt adrift after the loss of his father. His mother insisted they get out of the city. It was dangerous for them, being the family of a well known political activist made you next on the list. As the government became more brazen and unrepentant when it came to abducting people off the street, Pete decided his mother was right. He sent her, along with Alex and James to the country. Pete stayed, he had work to do.

He wasn’t long on his own before Pete met Gerard Way at one of the neighborhood’s only surviving coffee shops. He and Pete shared similar political ideals and Gerard had heard of Pete’s father. Soon Pete began to become more involved with a growing political group known simply as The Party. He climbed the ranks fast before going underground to escape prosecution from the government sector police in 2027. He was accompanied by his best friend…

Name: Joseph Mark Trohman
Date of Birth: September 1st 2009

As an only child of two devoutly Jewish parents, Joe was a bit of an outcast before The Pulse and part of a hated sect afterwards. Stereotyping led to violence led to 1,500 American Jews being attacked and killed across the country. Joe’s parents were among the victims.

Disaffected and angry, Joe spent the next seven years being swapped between the homes of distant relatives and the laughable foster care system. It was during his stay at one such foster home, a shitty apartment in sector 7, that Joe was befriended by a boy living across the hall. Pete Wentz was out spoken, unlike Joe who kept his emotions bottled up and he was impulsive where as Joe was overly cautious. Nevertheless, the two got along famously and during the year and a half that Joe lived in the building; they solidified a friendship that had the ability to weather any storm.

Over the years Pete helped Joe to come to terms with the anger and fear left in the wake of his parent’s murders. Joe helped Pete to internalize more. In other words he helped Pete mellow out so he wasn’t bouncing off the walls at all hours.

In 2025 Pete dragged him to his first Party meeting and it was there that he met The Party’s founders…

The Brothers Way

Name: Gerard Arthur Way
Date of Birth: April 9th, 2005

Besides being the most sought after criminal in Chicago, Gerard Way is also founder of The Party. An artist by trade and a revolutionary by design, Gerard rebelled against the government after his boyfriend Frank Iero was beaten to death by a group of post-pulse Christian extremists and his murderers went unpunished.

Gerard threw himself into the fight against a corrupt government which seemed unwilling to help or protect those of lower social standing. The government’s neglect of the poor and its outright disinterest in protecting citizen’s identified as minorities or simply “different” solidified his belief that extreme action needed to be taken.

Computer hacking and information gathering from reliable sources, have both proven to be valuable tools in the fight for equality. In an age where the government decides what information people get to hear, read and relay, The Party is famous for relating the true dealings of both local and nationwide government practices. Through newsletters and the internet, The Party tries to inform and educate citizens. Luckily even under an oppressive regime it’s impossible to control access to information completely.

This is not to say that The Party is entirely non-violent. All members are trained in combat by Gerard, who after Frank’s death spent an abhorrent amount of time perfecting various fighting styles. “The unfortunate reality is that actions speak louder than words” Gerard once said, “You have to shake people out of apathy and acceptance. You shouldn’t just accept that you are never going to have a better life no matter how hard you work. You shouldn’t just accept the segregation of the classes in this city and you shouldn’t just accept the murders and disappearances of the people you love.”

By 2029 The Party had claimed responsibility for the bombing of three sector posts and in one world famous display, The Party rerouted food service trucks to bring the food for sectors 1-3 to the higher sectors while the food that was usually set aside for sector four and above was sent into the lower sectors. The people in Chicago’s sectors 1-3 lost a lot of weight that week.

It wasn’t long before The Party gathered a following of likeminded citizens. A network of sympathizers, which now allows Gerard and his inner circle to travel around and live in the city without being found out. Which suits Gerard perfectly because there is only one thing he cares about more than The Party; the safety of his little brother…

Name: Michael James Way
Date of Birth: September 10th, 2008

Having a brother that starts a socio-political movement pretty much assures you a spot on ‘the team’. So it was no surprise when Mikey Way joined The Party soon after it was founded in 2025. It was also no surprise when his name found its way on to the sector 9’s most wanted list.

The brothers Way, as Mikey and Gerard are affectionately called, are the pillars that hold The Party firmly in place. While Gerard is the face and voice of the Party, Mikey is the man behind the curtain. “Mr. Wizard” as Pete has christened him, works tirelessly making sure things are planned and everyone has an escape route during public protests and the occasional riot.

An introvert, Mikey generally stays close to his brother and the other party members, only coming out of his shell once he knows them well. Not many people reach in the inner circle and that is due in part to them having to have Mikey’s approval. It is widely known that Mikey Way is an excellent judge of character and the entire Party relies on him when looking at potential candidates. To date, he has only cast favor on a select few. A small group which includes Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman and…

Name: Jonathan Jacob Walker
Date of Birth: September 17th, 2007

Being orphaned at a young age, Jon always dreamt of having a family. However, as many kids in similar situations did, Jon came to realize early on that the only person he could rely on was himself. Jon grew up between church basements and neighborhood squats which endowed Jon with a clear sense of right and wrong and an uncanny ability to outsmart sector police. The second of which brought him to the attention of Gerard Way and Pete Wentz.

In 2027 Jon’s ability to appear unassuming and harmless helped to distract a burly cop while Jon discreetly shooed two strangers out of harm’s way. Instead of simply running off, which he naturally assumed they would, the two strangers later thanked him and invited him out for a drink. Jon soon found himself following Way and Wentz to a “Party friendly” coffee shop.

Jon’s actions that day ensured Mikey’s immediate acceptance into the organization. (There was nothing that Mikey Way appreciated more than someone keeping his big brother out of prison.)

Jon is now the guy The Party sends in when things needed to be kept quiet. With his laid back attitude and bright smile Jon has the power to charm anyone, including sector police and fellow party members, which include his husband…

Name: Spencer James Smith
Date of Birth: September 2nd, 2010

Pre-pulse there were approximately 115 universities and colleges in the state of Illinois. Post-pulse only seventeen still operated. Of those seventeen not one offered scholarships or financial assistance. Hacking the system was the obvious solution for a poor kid like Spencer Smith and luckily, he was good at it.

In fact Spencer was good at just about everything, “like scary good” Joe Trohman would come to say. At sixteen Spencer was accepted to The University of Illinois- Chicago, he was eighteen when he entered medical school and nineteen when the government realized he wasn’t actually paying for his education. Spencer had rather been flipping numbers around in various computer systems to make it look like he was meeting his tuition requirements.

Mikey Way found him running from sector police two days after he was found out. A week later he was being introduced to Gerard as “Doc” and four days after that Jon returned from a mission. “Jon meet Spencer, Spencer meet Jon” that was all it had took; a year later Spencer and Jon were the only married couple in the inner circle of The Party.

On to chapter 1- Karma is a bitch.

Yoinked form drifting

Sun, 09 Dec 2007 21:16:08 GMT

Go to the Wikipedia home page and click random article. That is your band's name. Click random article again; that is your album name. Click random article 15 more times; those are the tracks on your album.

Band Name: Maxwell Forrest [ A Star Trek character? Really?...]
Album Name: Carlton, Victoria

one. Jiulong
two. Alan Gold
three. Karin Söder
four. Ashley Foyle [Aparently my album is a list of shout outs]
five. Bratty v A-G NI [A Northern Ireland legal case]
six. Bay Beach Amusement Park
seven. GWR FM Wiltshire [We will get a lot of play on those radio stations]
eight. Vincent Maher
nine. Minamimaki mayoral election, 2007
ten. Edenoi
eleven. New Caledonian franc
twelve. Eubulus
thirteen. German Actuarial Society [Could be as great as 'Village Green Preservation Society', I'm just going to go ahead and put that out there.]
fourteen. Seeking Whom He May Devour
fifteen. Skidby

BANDOM

Thu, 22 Nov 2007 06:09:08 GMT

(10) Fall Out Boy
(12) My Chemical Romance
(15) Panic! At The Disco

Teasers:

Fall Out Boy-

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

My Chemical Romance-

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.

Panic! At The Disco-

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.

My First Bandom icons! lol- Hope you like!

*All backgrounds by SwearToShakeItUp@deviantart.com*

Some icons....

Sat, 06 Oct 2007 22:38:09 GMT

Teasers:

Heroes-
(8) M3 (Matt, Mohinder and Molly)
(6) Miscellaneous

(12) Supernatural/Dark Angel
(7) Placebo
(3) Orlando Bloom
(2) John Barrowman
(2) Aaron and Shawn Ashmore

M3 (Matt, Mohinder and Molly):

1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.

Heroes Miscellaneous:

1.2.3.4.5.6.

Supernatural/Dark Angel:

1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10.11.12.

Placebo:

1.2.3.4.5.6.7.

Orlando Bloom:

1.2.3.

John Barrowman:

1.2.

Aaron & Shawn Ashmore:

1.2.

Favorite Fic- Number 1

Fri, 21 Sep 2007 00:21:02 GMT

I'm going to start posting links to some of my favorite works of fiction for the following reasons-

A) They are great and deserve the attention.
B) I've read them several times and think you all would enjoy them as well!
c) I get to make fun posters to promote them (see below)

Name of story: Don't Go Mistaking Paradise
Author: __tiana__
Summary: A J2 remake of the classic 80s film 'Some Kind of Wonderful'.
Pairing/Characters: J2 (Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki), Sandy McCoy, Chad Michael Murray
Why it deserves attention: Well written adaptation that strays enough from the original to keep it suprising and entertaining but close enough to the original spirit of the film. bluefauxhawk!Jensen and Artist!Jared.

LINK: http://users.livejournal.com/__tiana__/71275.html

Update- Chapter 12/18

Sun, 09 Sep 2007 03:51:55 GMT

Title: Carnivale (12/18)
Rating for chapter: PG
Pairings: EW/OB
Summary: Elijah is the star of a carnival side-show that passes through Orlando's town, but unlike most performers Elijah is kept against his will. (Werewolf!Lij) (unbetad, mistakes are my own.)

Chapter 12-

Chapter 12-

Elijah cooed softly patting the side of Cambridge’s face. Elijah had grown quite fond of the skittish horse, even if he had almost crushed Orlando some nights back. The horse’s owner had refused to take him back, saying the horse was a menace and a danger and if Orlando couldn’t cure the beast of its fits, then he was just going to have to put the animal down himself. Of course, Orlando had neither the constitution nor the will to put down an innocent animal and so had turned the horse over to Elijah when his lover had asked him to.

Elijah couldn’t help but identify with the horse, Cambridge was a wild animal that had been hurt in the past and so had turned violent when confronted with the unfamiliar. From what Elijah was able to gleam from the horse, he knew that his previous owner hadn’t been a kind man and had taken to beating him when he was uncooperative. Overall though, a feeling of confusion and sadness was what the horse presented himself to Elijah with. Whether the confusion had to do with his new surroundings or the way the horse had been treated, Elijah didn’t know. For the first time he wished his bond with animals was more intense so that he could truly know what Cambridge was feeling.

His gift with animals used to frighten him. Not because of the fact that he could so easily read their looks and body language; that was just something he’d always been able to do. What scared Elijah was the fact that other people couldn’t. That his ability served to highlight the fact that he wasn’t human.

Of course there were other factors which served to illustrate the fact just as well. For instance most people’s bodies didn’t contort into canine forms once a month with the rising of the full moon. Most men his age didn’t have fingernails that elongated in to sharp claws when scared or excited. It also wasn’t normal to be able to lift twice your body weight without breaking a sweat.

All of the things that made Elijah standout as abnormal, all of them that led others to label him as a freak, were things the young American had detested about himself as far back as he could remember. It was the reason people like his parents had been able to dump him in some rundown carnival and continue on their way with little, if any, guilt. It was the reason people like Bean had felt free to take their aggression out on him. Communicating with Animals, becoming an animal…it was all connected. Somehow deep inside of him, in his blood, something wasn’t right. Something had gotten to him when he was young and shaped his future bringing him to this point.

Though, Elijah conceded as he ran a brush along Cambridge’s left flank, the place he found himself now was not bad. In fact, he might almost say it was good, great even. At the same time last year he’d been living in a small silver plated caravan, now he was free to roam around Orlando’s large home and the land it sat on. A year before that he’d been forced to perform for ignorant audiences that took one look at him and were certain of the evil that lived in him. Now he had Orlando. He had a mate who had risked everything to be with him, who loved him without fear.

Elijah sighed putting the wooden brush aside and walked over to the corner of the stall to retrieve a bag of oats for Cambridge. His gifts did come in handy at times. His ability to communicate with animals was helping him to teach Cambridge to trust again.

Elijah scooped up a handful of oats and raised his cupped hand to Cambridge who looked at it warily for a moment before he tilted his head and proceeded to nibble on the offered food. Elijah smiled softly as he ran his hand along the horse’s long nose and over his dark mane.

“Good boy” Elijah smiled, “Good boy.”

A searing pain laced through Elijah’s body wringing a startled wail from his throat. Falling to the ground in a loose heap, Elijah didn’t have to even turn to know at once what the cause of his pain was. Another prod and Elijah could hear the sick sizzling sound of silver against the bare flesh of neck. His body convulsed with the pain he was no longer accustomed to.

“Should have known I’d find you with the animals.” A voice hissed behind him.

Suddenly the pain was joined by an immense sense of fear as he recalled the same voice purring to him on nights when drink was just not enough. When the only pleasure the Carnival owner could derive was from making others feel throbbing, agonizing pain.

********************************************************************************************

Orlando’s long legs carried him fast up the hill towards his home. He’d heard Billy yelling after him, asking what was wrong and ‘where was he going?’ Orlando hadn’t stopped to answer. He had no time to stop, not one second because if David’s boy had told Bean where to find Elijah, then the ringmaster would waste no time in proceeding to the house.

Orlando’s breath came in short hard busts as he forced his body to accelerate. Visions of silver and flesh danced through his mind as he wound his way through the trees and for some reason Orlando knew they weren’t just flashes of nightmares. What he was seeing in his mind was truly happening, Bean was in the barn with his cane and Elijah was at his mercy.

His heart began to pound as the Orlando pushed himself further, he could hear the blood rushing in and out of the organ. His legs were screaming in protest as he dug down deeper finding even more speed, pushing himself up the bluff. Then suddenly, his eyes began to cloud and sting- he could see everything so clearly. The dark curving path was no longer hard to make out but seemed as well lit as if it were mid day. His speed reached new heights as he bound effortlessly up the last length of the bluff and approached the barn.

“Foul boy! Did you think you could escape that easily?! Did you think I wouldn’t come back to claim what is mine?”

Orlando did not stop to think. In an instant he was charging forward flinging his body with all the force he could muster into Bean’s back. There was a yell of protest as Bean went flying against one of the solid wooden stalls, a loud crash of bones against the grain and a sudden silence that followed.

Bean didn’t move. His head didn’t turn to fling anymore insults, his hands didn’t move to his cane and his chest no longer rose and fell with the intake of breath. Orlando knew in an instant he was dead. He’d seen enough death both in his profession and with the loss of his parents. This time however the familiar sting of sorrow and remorse didn’t enter his bloodstream. He only felt the surge of anger and relief.

Orlando turned hearing Elijah take an unsteady, pained breath. Immediately his anger was gone, replaced with worry and concern.

“Are you alright?” Orlando asked as he knelt down beside his lover.

Elijah looked up at Orlando, eyes widening with concern. “Are you?”

“Of course” Orlando answered, confused by the worried sound in Elijah’s voice.

“No, Orlando, look at yourself.” Elijah pointed an unsteady hand towards the water trough.

Orlando stood and walked towards the trough, expecting to see cuts and abrasions from his mad dash to the stable. He stopped suddenly, catching his reflection in the water. At first Orlando thought his eyes were playing tricks with him, that the combination of the dim light of the barn and the panic still racing its way through his body was doing something to his mind. After all, Orlando’s skin was smooth and bronze from days spent under the sun, but not quite so gold and bright. His eyes were brown and deep not crystalline blue that seemed to glow even in the dim stable…

Like a flash it hit him, True Mate, his other form, this was it. All he could think was ‘this wasn’t what I expected.’ He’d expected to look like Elijah, a dense pelt, long snout, curving talons. This was, well it was still different, but it was familiar. His skin shone with more intensity and his canines were elongated filling out his upper lip, he had the same eyes as Elijah. Deep black and vivid blue, except where Elijah’s eyes simply held a sliver of the color around where his cornea usual was, the blue in Orlando’s eyes covered the entire center of his eyes. Elijah had…Elijah!

Orlando turned back to his injured lover, his appearance forgotten. Elijah had scooted back, bracing his back against the stall opposite Bean’s body.

“Are you okay? What did he do to you?” Orlando asked, once again coming to rest beside Elijah.

“Nothing he hasn’t done before” Elijah winced as he tried to push himself up from the ground.

“Here…” Orlando said putting an arm under Elijah’s shoulder and helping him to stand.

Orlando looked over his lover, surveying his torn clothes and the collection of new burns that were already healing. Orlando ran his thumb over a new scar on Elijah’s neck as it formed. Elijah sighed at the comforting touch and Orlando could feel his new form melting away replaced by the more familiar presence he was used to.

“I was so worried” Orlando whispered.

“How did he find me?” Elijah asked leaning further into Orlando’s touch until he was caught fully in his lover’s embrace.

“I don’t…”

“Is he dead?” Billy’s brogue questioned from the entryway to the stable.

Orlando turned to his friend, but didn’t let Elijah out of his arms. “Yes.” Orlando replied, “I did it.”

“You didn’t have a choice.” Elijah looked up into his eyes, “He would have taken me and killed you if you tried to stop him.”

“You have to run.” Billy said in an eerily calm voice.

“I’m sure the constable will understand,” Orlando said. “It was purely self defense.”

Billy shook his head, “You don’t understand Orli, Bean has been running around town asking about Elijah, telling people what he is.” Orlando felt a cold chill run through his body. “You have to leave now. Not everyone here is like Mr. Tennant and me. People are scared of things they don’t understand.”

“What are you saying?” Orlando asked.

“Authorities of the Crown will be here by late morning. Elijah has to run now.”

“I’ll go.” Elijah said backing up and looking to Orlando, “I have to before they come, I won’t let them take me.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“What?” Billy asked, “That’s ridiculous, you’re whole life is here.”

“He’s right” Elijah nodded, “You’re home is here, your friends, your parents are buried here.”

“Elijah, you are not leaving here without me. I meant it when I told you I loved you. Where you go, I follow. That’s how this works.”

Journal Headers

Fri, 22 Jun 2007 18:27:28 GMT

Orlando Bloom x2
Jensen Ackles x1

Take if you like 'em, Comments are loved.

Thu, 14 Jun 2007 06:50:06 GMT

Title: Never Run Away From You (2/2)
Fandom: Billy Eliott
Pairing: Billy/Michael
Rating: PG-13; boy!kissing
Summary: The actual words used had been something like “missing, presumed dead”

Michael turned away from the man he was serving and looked at Billy with a shocked expression. Dead? What did he mean, dead? The group of men surrounding the bar had stopped their conversations when Billy had yelled and were now all staring at Michael waiting for his response.

“I-I think you have me confused with someone else.” Michael’s voice shook.

“Bullocks,” Billy walked around the bar until he was right in front of Michael and beside the men he’d been serving.

“Is everything alright Mike?” the other barman asked.

“S’fine.” Michael said turning back to Billy.

Taking a deep breath Michael couldn’t help but noticed how much Billy had changed in the three years since he’d last seen him. His body was the same height, just slightly shorter than himself, but his hair seemed lighter, as if he’d been spending a lot of time in the sun. His body was more toned from further ballet training, his shoulders round instead of flat. He looked amazing, which was a problem.

It was a problem because Michael had sworn to himself that he would not fall in love ever again. He was secure and safe in the small world he’d made for himself. Adding the only boy he’d ever truly loved into the mix had the potential to tear that world apart. Looking at Billy, Michael couldn’t determine whether that was a good or bad thing.

“What are you doing here?” Michael asked.

“What am I doing here?”

“Okay, point taken.” Michael conceded, “Listen, I’m working now. I get off in an hour.”

Billy simply nodded in understanding and turned away.

Billy made his way slowly back to the table on the far side of the bar where his friends were now sitting with a newly arrived Harrison.

“Hey where are the drinks?” Monica asked.

Billy sat dumbstruck by what had just happened and deaf to his friend’s question. Michael…was alive. He was alive and in London, working in the bar he was sitting in. All this time Billy had thought he was dead and now it turns out he’s working in some pub just a few miles from where Billy lived!

Billy could think of no reaction to his situation that seemed appropriate. Yelling at Michael was the first thing that came to mind. Screaming at him about how worried he’d been, how he’d blamed himself for his death. He wanted to berate him for all the time he’d spent believing that if he’d just told someone about what was going on in Michael’s house or convinced Michael to seek help, his best friend would still be alive. For all the nights he’d cried himself to sleep and all the hours of sleep he’d missed while going over the situation in his head. Billy wanted to point out what his disappearance had done to him.

He couldn’t though, his best friend was alive.

When Billy thought of that, he wanted to kiss Michael. He wanted to fall into his arms and never let go, the boy he’d fallen in love with was alive. He was alive! He was living and Billy couldn’t help but think back to the few days after he’d returned home to find Michael gone and all the times he’d prayed for the rumors not to be true.

Had his prayers been answered?

Then the reality set in, he’d never told Michael he was in love with him. He’d never gotten the chance after that night in the gym and now three years had passed. What was he going to say when Michael got off work? He didn’t even know if Michael was the same boy he’d fallen for. Two years of living on his own in a big city could have changed him even more.

“Billy!”

Billy turned to look at his friends, who were all staring at him, “Sorry?”

“Are you okay?” Gregory asked.

“Yeah, maybe…probably” Billy tried to convince himself.

“What happened?” Monica asked.

“Michael.”

“Michael? That’s not giving us a lot to go on, love.” Monica slid into the chair across from Billy.

“Michael, from Everington”

“You mean…the boy who died?” Gregory asked, laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Not dead.” Billy murmured.

“What?”

“He’s working behind the bar.”

All three friends turned quickly towards the bar catching the eye of a tall brunette behind the bar who quickly looked away when caught staring.

“You mean that’s him?” Monica asked.

“Aye” Billy nodded.

“So he’s not dead.” Gregory sat back.

“It appears that way.” Billy leaned back in his chair, tipping his head back and looking at the ceiling. This was not how he’d expected his night to turn out.

“Well, did you talk to him?” Gregory pried.

“No Gregory, I ordered my drinks and went on my merry way, of course I talked to him!”

“Calm down Billy, Greg’s only trying to help.” Monica took Billy’s hand in hers.

“I’m sorry.” Billy sighed, “It’s just…he was dead you know, it was horrible and tragic but at least I understood what had happened. Now he’s here…he’s in London and I don’t know where he’s been or what he’s been through…what am I supposed to say to him?”

“How about, hello?” Harrison offered with a smirk.

Billy smiled, it was rare that Harrison said anything that Billy was interested in hearing, but at that moment the boy had known what needed to be said.

“Aye, that’s a start.” Billy nodded.

**

Michael watched from behind the bar as Billy crossed back over to the table where his friends sat. Michael couldn’t help but notice how different his friends looked from any of the other patrons, and him for that matter. The girl who seemed about their age was tall and slim and her white skin and clean blonde hair made her look like a fashion model. Her dress was obviously expensive and a small diamond pendant rested against her sternum. She looked comfortable even if she looked out of place in the pub. She seemed to have a level of confidence that bordered on self empowered, which Michael supposed made her perfect for the city.

The man sitting beside the girl had ginger hair that was stuck up in meticulous spikes and looked like it took a long time in the mirror to perfect. His tailored jacket was offset by a tee-shirt underneath that advertised a local football club, though from the distance Michael couldn’t quite make out which one.

The last man at the table leaned towards Billy with a look of concern. His dark skin was even and clear. His head was shaved and well moisturized. His body was also well built, though he was taller than Billy. His femininity showed in the way he wore his clothes, a velvet black jacket was accompanied by a white dress shirt and a colorful scarf wrapped around his neck. He also seemed a little out of place in the bar, his manners and light touch gave away his upper class upbringing.

No doubt they had all met at the Royal Ballet School.

Michael felt his stomach clench as he watched the girl take Billy’s hand in hers. She caressed it gently, as if she’d done so many times before and Michael had to look away.

He made his way to the end of the bar refilling a few pints and trying to keep his mind off of the fact that Billy was taken. It wasn’t as if he’d expected him to stay single, hell he didn’t even know for sure if Billy had ever really liked him. Michael had written off the night in the gym as pity and shelved it away as one of the only fond memories he could look back on from his childhood. Even if Billy’s motivation hadn’t been genuine, the feeling of his lips on Michael’s had been one of the purest experiences of his life.

Taking another order Michael continued to mix and pour various beverages although without his usual friendly attitude. If the patron’s noticed anything they kept their mouths shut, not that Michael expected anything less. The people who frequented the pub generally knew not to pry into his life. He was happy enough to talk about theirs also long as his was never touched on.

It wasn’t like he would have much to share with them anyway. He’d grown up in Scotland the only son of a workaholic and an alcoholic. His workaholic mother was rarely home and his alcoholic father took it upon himself to rid his son of his “alternative preferences” through the use of his fists. It wasn’t an uncommon story and it wasn’t one that he felt the need to let strangers in on. He didn’t need any sorrowful looks cast his way. He was fine. He’d gotten out, he’d run away to London and had gotten a decent job, he could afford his own flat and his life was perfectly adequate. No sympathy needed.

A group of young men laughed from the side of the bar where they were having a conversation and Michael tried to hide his frown. So he didn’t have any one he could really call a friend. So what? He didn’t need them, never had. He’d only ever really had one friend and he’d left. It seemed his fate, that everyone he loved or cared about was destined to hurt or leave him. Being alone was safer.

**

Shaking his head once again, Billy insisted that his friends go on ahead. There really was no reason for them to stay. None of them knew Michael or the entire story of what went on between them. Having them there when Michael got off work would just serve to make the encounter even more awkward, if that was possible.

“Are you sure?” Monica asked again, “I mean we could wait for you.”

“No,” Billy maintained, “This is something I need to do on my own.”

“Fine,” Monica conceded, “But I’m going to keep my mobile on just in case you need to talk afterwards, alright?” Billy nodded, knowing that there was no use in arguing with her.

“Okay then,” Harrison nodded taking his fiancé by the hand. “We best be off before the line at the door gets too long.”

“Right,” Gregory huffed, “now I get to be the third wheel.”

“Oh don’t be like that. You know I’d leave Harrison in a second if you weren’t such a flaming poof.” Monica laughed, kissing Gregory on the cheek and guiding their party away from the pub leaving Billy alone outside the front door.

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better” Billy heard Gregory reply as he was pulled further away.

Billy watched his friends walk away until they turned the corner and were out of sight. He loved his friends, but was also very glad that they hadn’t all insisted on staying with him. He knew, as well as they did, that if they had been adamant about staying he wouldn’t have had the heart to tell them to fuck off.

Taking a deep breath Billy looked down at his wrist reading the time on his new watch. The silver wristband had been a graduation gift from his family, Billy knew that they’d probably saved up and pooled their money in order to get it for him and for that reason it never left his wrist. The time was ten after and Michael was going to be out any minute.

For the life of him, Billy had no idea what he was going to say.

What does one say to the recently resurrected long-lost love of their life? Billy didn’t really think there was a script to follow, no protocol he knew of. If someone asked him to dance about it, he might be able to pull something out of thin air, but he doubted that would suffice in this scenario. He wanted to start it in a way that signified how important the conversation was; something that reflected how much pain he’d been through, how much he felt for Michael, or had felt at least. It had to be something subtle yet profound and poetic.

“Cigarette?” Billy looked up, shocked to see Michael standing next to him offering him a fag in his outstretched fingers.

“Uh…no…don’t smoke.” Ah yes profound; Billy wanted to shove his head against the nearest brick wall.

Michael simply nodded and put the pack of smokes back into his pocket after lighting one for himself.

“So…” Michael began, “You thought I was dead?”

“No Michael,” Billy turned to look at his best friend, “I thought you were on holiday at club fucking Med.” Michael had the decency to look embarrassed, “Of course I thought you were dead, Jesus! The last time I saw you that bastard had just beat you to a bloody pulp and then I get home to tell you…to tell you! And you were gone and nobody knew where you went and everybody in that small fucking town was whispering about incompetent police that can’t find your body!”

“Billy! Billy, calm down mate.” Michael rested a hand on Billy’s shoulder only to have it slapped away.

“Don’t you tell me to calm down Mike” Billy sneered. “Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

“Believe it or not Billy, not everything is about you.”

Billy sighed heavily but nodded, Michael was right of course. It wasn’t about him.

“Why didn’t you ever try to contact me?” Billy’s voice was barely audible.

“What would I have said?” Michael asked taking a drag off his cigarette. “Sorry about molesting you last year but I’ve run off from home and wondered if I could crash at the dormitory? Come on, that’s bullocks.”

“As I recall, it was I who did most of the molesting.” Billy smirked.

Michael couldn’t help but smile back at his old friend, even as he felt his determination to remain solitary slipping away.

Billy looked up at him through full blonde eyelashes, “What did you come home to tell me?” Michael ventured to ask.

“What? Oh, nothing…it’s not important.”

“Come on, it must have been important if you’re still thinking about it years later.”

“Well…it’s just- you see I- well I’d thought- well not thought- I knew after New Years- after we- well I just knew and I’d been thinking about a way to tell you, a way to make you believe me.”

“Uh, you want to start that one over, Bill?”

“Oh god” Billy ran a hand over his face, “You’d think after all this time I’d be able to just come out and say it.”

“Say what exactly?” Michael threw his cigarette down and ground it down into the pavement.

“Well I guess Monica would say I’ve nothing to loose…” Michael tried his best not to pull a face at what he assumed was the name of the girl who’d been fawning over Billy in the pub, “When I came home that Christmas I was going to tell you that I was i-in love with you.”

Billy turned his face away, red with embarrassment and Michael stood frozen in shock. All Michael could think was that he’d heard something wrong. He’d imagined what he wanted to hear. But Billy was blushing and looking sheepish and his eyes were avoiding looking at his straight on.

Had he really said it? Had Billy just- “Did you just say you were in love with me?”

“Aye” Billy nodded, seeming to find conviction in his declaration and looking up at Michael.

“But you aren’t…you weren’t…”

“I tried to tell you Michael, I- oh forget it.” Billy reached forward fisting the front of Michael’s gray shirt and pulling him forward until their lips met.

Billy latched on, softly pressing his lips against Michael’s. For a moment Michael was still, in shock, but a second later his lips started moving against Billy’s and his hand crept around Billy’s waist.

Billy breathed in through his nose not wanting to part from Michael, not after waiting all this time. Michael’s lips were warm and smooth against his own and as he darted his tongue out against Michael’s lips he could taste salt and smoke and something undeniably Michael. It was rich and woody with a heat like cinnamon. Billy had missed that taste, even if he didn’t fully realize it before.

Michael opened his mouth inviting Billy in and moaned softly as their tongues touched for the first time since that night in the gym. Only this time it was so much different because Michael didn’t have blood caking to the side of his face and he wasn’t afraid that Billy was going to push him away. Letting his arms push under the back of Billy’s shirt, Michael ran his hands over the cool smooth skin he found beneath.

Billy’s back hit the side of the building as Michael’s weight fell against him and firm, strong hands rested on the small of his back. The impact forced his lips from Michael’s, and Billy leans back meeting his best friend’s wide eyes.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.” Billy whispered.

“Promise.” Michael answered feeling his solitary life slipping away, replaced by something new.

Tue, 12 Jun 2007 07:52:28 GMT

Title: Never Run Away From You (1/2)
Fandom: Billy Eliott
Pairing: Billy/Michael
Rating: PG-13; boy!kissing
Summary: The actual words used had been something like “missing, presumed dead”

London- 1992

Michael smirked as he pushed his way through the busy urban streets of London. It was late but the night was finally over and he’d done well for himself, patting his front pocket once, Michael made sure the night’s tips were still in its place and continued on. Turning a corner he brushed past more people on their way to which ever club was hip that week and sped up a bit, eager to get home and rest.

The pub had been busy all night with the men crowding in to watch the Premiership finals, so by the time it had finally died down and John had given him the go ahead to take off it was half past one in the morning. He’d been standing on his feet pulling pints for the past nine and a half hours.

The pub wasn’t a bad place to work though; all in all it suited Michael pretty well. No one asked questions about his past and everyone just assumed that he was straight. Which suited him just fine seeing as his past experiences with being the only gay teen in a sleepy mining town, was what lead him to flee Scotland in the first place. He liked the anonymity being a bartender afforded him. He worked primarily on his own and the small talk he held with customers generally revolved around them and not him. It wasn’t hard to steer away from any uncomfortable subjects; mostly people just wanted someone to listen and Michael did that well.

It wasn’t that he was ashamed of being gay or afraid of the reaction he’d get from the patrons of the bar. He’d worked there going on two years now and he’d become an establishment at the old pub. People took comfort in his presence there and finding out he preferred blokes wasn’t going to change their opinion of him. He liked his solitude for other reasons, reasons he didn’t like to think about, and managed not to for the most part.

Even growing up Michael had only ever had one true friend and once he lost him to some fancy ballet school. Michael hadn’t bothered trying to win over new people after that. He knew he was different, hell he used to sneak into his sister’s room and try on her clothes! Michael didn’t need to be told that doing that wasn’t normal adolescent boy behavior. So he kept to himself and eventually taught himself how to appear and act like the other boys in his classes. He’d started playing football instead of playing with make up and listening to The Clash instead of his mother’s old disco albums, and before he knew it he’d become someone else. He’d become Mike.

Michael turned the last corner towards his home and hurried his pace to the front of the building. The place was old but in good shape and with his wage at the bar and a good share of generous tips, Michael was able to afford to live comfortably by himself. Another blessing, since a roommate was about as high up on his list of brilliant ideas as confronting a bear in the wild or returning to Scotland.

Once inside, Michael hustled up the stairs to his second floor apartment and entered with a contented sigh. He loved his apartment; it was one of the only things he truly took pride in. It wasn’t in the best neighborhood perhaps, but it was big and more importantly, all his own. He decorated it the way he wanted, mostly it was a mixture of odds and ends he found at local thrift markets but he’d managed to give the place a bit of atmosphere. Vintage Rock posters lined the walls and the comfortable furniture in the living room all matched. His small dinning table which sat in the kitchen had been picked out of a pile of rubbish the first month he’d moved to London and the chairs were collected at different times in the same fashion. Everything was clean and put together and even though CDs had recently been put on the market Michael’s vinyl collection sat in a place of honor on the left side of the living room.

Of course, it wasn’t at all like his home in Scotland. His mother had never been home much and so didn’t care to decorate any more than throwing a few framed pictures on the mantel and his father had been too drunk to care about home decor. Michael was sure that if he’d ever talked to shrink about his life they’d probably tell him that the reason he took such pride in his home was because he’d never been able to as a child. Then again if a shrink ever told him that he’d probably say something like “No shit, Sherlock” and walk out of the office straight away. The truth was though, that his second floor walk-up was the first place he’d ever been that truly felt like home. As far as he was concerned he’d be content to stay there the rest of his life.

Michael knew of course, that he should be considering going to college and choosing a profession, not planning out his life in his solitary apartment on the dodgy side of town. But college was for kids who came from families with money and professions were for people with bigger dreams. Michael had already fulfilled his dreams, he was on his own far away from his family and he was at peace. Who needed more than that?

Michael made his way through the apartment and into the bedroom, stripping quickly and flopping down unceremoniously onto his unmade bed. He wanted to take a shower and wash all of the smoke and dirt from his skin but as soon as he’d seen the bed he’d known he wouldn’t be able to stay awake long enough. So instead he curled up under his blue down blanket and shut his eyes. Seconds later he was asleep.

**

“You’ve got to come!” Gregory whined.

“Why? It’s not like I’ve not been down the pub before.” Billy rolled his eyes and turned back to the book in his lap.

“It’s Friday night Billy!” Monica pointed out. “And you’ve just gotten cast in the best ballet company in London, it’s time to celebrate!”

“Can’t we celebrate by letting me stay in and be comfortable?” Billy pleaded

“No!” His two best friends shouted in unison.

“William Elliot, if you do not get your lazy arse off that sofa and into a pair of skin tight jeans in ten seconds, I will brand the words old maid onto the middle of your forehead with a cattle iron!” Monica’s southern American accent made the threat seem plausible and Billy gaped at her from his seat on the sofa.

“We need to see about getting you into some anger management courses, love.” Gregory said looking over their female friend. “That was scary.”

“One…two…”

“I’m going! I’m going!” Billy raised his hands in defeat and leapt off the sofa to go clean up and change for a night out with his friends.

Searching his room for anything clean, Billy grabbed a pair of faded blue jeans and a gray tee shirt with the words Royal Ballet School printed on it. He still missed the school sometimes, it was hard to believe he was a graduate and that tomorrow he’d be starting his internship with the London Ballet. It seemed like just yesterday he was getting on the bus in Everington to go to school for the first time. He could remember his dad and Tony’s faces as the bus left and the sudden plummeting feeling in his stomach as he wondered if he was making the wrong decision.

He supposed things had gone as they should have though. Tony was married now with two children, twin girls who he doted on constantly and his father lived with them now that his grandmother had passed. Billy didn’t have any regrets about leaving; his family was doing well and he got back to see them once or twice a year. He’d also made great friends at Royal. Monica and Gregory had greeted him the first day and they’d practically been joined at the hip ever since.

Truth be told, Gregory and Monica were probably the only reason Billy ever got out of the house at all. After classes and dance rehearsals Billy always felt drained, all he really wanted to do was curl up with a good book. However his friends found that extremely boring and insisted that if he kept it up he would eventually become a hermit and no one would ever love him. So he was, night after night, dragged out to the local pub or some new dance club and inevitably ended up helping Monica or Gregory carry the other back up to the flat they all shared. He loved his friends, but neither of them could hold their liquor.

**

It was early yet, so the pub wasn’t quite as crowded as it would have been had they gotten there an hour later. Billy looked around taking in the environment; he’d never been there before. Coming there had been Harrison’s idea; Harrison of course being the unreliable and usually tardy boy who Monica had decided, for some reason that escaped everyone but her, to get engaged to. Billy only hoped Harrison didn’t show up late for the wedding too, Monica would undoubtedly beat him to a bloody pulp before shoving him down the isle to say their vows.

The pub was in a somewhat sketchy area but still nice. The walls were covered in worn red paint and the oak bar was dented in places but still sturdy and strong. Patrons gathered around tables or congregated on the stools surrounding the bar holding out their money for the barman. Two young men scooted around each other preparing drinks on the other side of the counter. One was blonde and slender; he worked fast and served up the drinks with little personality. The other however smiled and greeted the regular customers with a few kind words. He was tall with dark hair that hung over his face as he bent down to retrieve the different bottles needed to fill his orders. His arms were strong, even under his military green jacket; Billy could see the muscles of his biceps slide against the fabric.

“Nice, isn’t he?” Gregory pushed at Billy’s shoulder with his own.

“Who?” Billy asked.

“The bartender you’ve been eyeing up for the last five minutes.”

“I haven’t been eyeing anybody up.” Billy blushed.

“Mmm hmm” Gregory teased, “You know, it’s okay to be human Billy, you know to like someone that way.”

“Shut up” Billy pushed his friend away laughing. “I’ll get the first round, what do you two want?”

“Just get us whatever you’re having” Monica said absently as she turned to point something out to Gregory.

Billy nodded and made his way to an empty space at the end of the bar to wait his turn. He didn’t have to wait to long as the friendly bartender made his way towards him. As he walked in Billy’s direction he ran a hand through his hair lifting it out of his face, momentarily revealing striking blue-green eyes which were all too familiar.

“What can I get you?” the barman asked in thick Scottish accent.

“M-Michael?” The man’s head shot up upon being addressed and both stood still for a long moment just looking at each other.

“Oi! Can I get some service?” A man called out to Michael and he stepped away from Billy walking towards the other patron as if he’d never seen Billy at all.

“Wait!” Billy called out, but Michael stepped over to the impatient man and began taking his order.

A thousand thoughts ran through Billy’s mind, and none of them seemed helpful at all. If there was one regret Billy had about his life, it was leaving Michael. His best friend had never told him about the thrashings he got at home but Billy had always known. He’d been afraid when he had left about what would happen to Michael without someone to escape with, even if it was just a late night visit to the gym. When he’d gotten to Royal he’d written a few letters and received short but warm replies but after a while it all seemed to get away from him. Then he’d gone home for Christmas Holidays two years ago and Michael had been gone.

The actual words used had been something like “missing, presumed dead” and Billy had lost control. As soon as Tony had told him the news Billy had run to his old room, slamming the door shut. It had taken two days for his father to convince him to leave his bedroom. He’d never, however, been able to convince Billy that whatever had happened to Michael wasn’t his fault.

The last time Billy had seen Michael had been the year before that and he’d noticed the difference in him right away. He’d been told, by Michael’s sister, where to find him and with a skeptical glance he’d nodded and said he’d be off then. When he’d reached the football pitch and seen Michael on the field with two other boys, he was shocked to say the least. In fact, he’d only recognized his friend because he was the only boy with brown hair around. He’d called his name and the game had stopped, the other two players seeming to be shocked that someone was actually talking to their opponent. Michael had just smiled and made his way over to Billy.

As he walked towards him Billy had been shocked at the difference between the boy he’d known and the teenager who had taken his place. Michael still held himself gracefully but seemed to have shirked off any of the femininity that had clung to him as a child. His hair was cut short and spiky and his blue sweatshirt barely fit over his developed body. He was no longer lanky and weak; in fact the only thing that seemed to have gone unchanged was the rich color of his friend’s eyes.

They hadn’t seen each other for years but they still spent all of the time they could together over the short time Billy had off from school. Michael listened as Billy described his lessons and the people he’d met. Michael had told him about some of the people he used to know and explained when Billy asked that, yes he was gay but he’d never told anyone besides Billy. Billy tried to ask about his home life once but Michael had gone quiet for a moment and asked him not to ask about it anymore. Billy didn’t.

Things weren’t the same of course, but Billy hadn’t really expected them to be, not after five years apart. Billy had more confidence and Michael had made himself hard to protect himself from the world he lived in. It wasn’t until the beginning of the second week they spent together that they were truly comfortable again. Then everything had spun out of control so fast. Billy had started to realize his more than platonic feelings for Michael and Michael had started to trust him again.

On New Years Eve Billy had decided to go to the gym to practice seeing as his brother and father were down at the pub with Tony’s new wife to celebrate and Billy was too young to join them. He’d slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and trekked to the gym ready for a good workout, he had been neglecting his dance practice ever since he got home and he didn’t want it to show when he finally went back to campus.

It was late on the holiday, night had fallen about an hour ago and most people in the village were either already at the pub or on their way there. When the two boys from the soccer pitch came rushing out of the gym Billy greeted them with a small wave and proceeded inside. The gym was dark so Billy assumed Michael’s football friends must have been the last to leave. So much the better, he hated people he didn’t know snickering in the corners while he practiced.

Billy flicked on the lights revealing the scuffed marred floor of the gym and the equally used practice equipment. Setting his bag down Billy took a seat on a nearby bench and began unlacing his sneakers.

Suddenly the dull thud of something heavy falling over echoed through the gym and Billy shot up from his seat.

“Hello?” He called, no one answered so Billy sat back down.

Unlacing his shoes the rest of the way and slipping them off followed by his socks Billy then reached into his bag and grabbed his ballet shoes. He ran his fingers over them with reverence; they were the most expensive thing he owned. He’d had to work with a second-hand pair for two years before one of his teachers has surprised him with a new pair for an end of the year performance. They fit like a glove and didn’t hurt near as much as the ones he’d learned with. They were built with care by someone who knew the needs of a dancer and for this reason he cherished them above all of his other possessions.

Slipping the slippers on Billy began to feel at home again. Looking in the mirror before him, Billy couldn’t help but smirk at the familiar sight. He had decided long ago that dancing was his natural state, that it was when he was dancing that he felt most like himself. Billy flexed his claves and lifted himself into a nice starting position.

Readying him self to do a tours chaînés déboulés, he took a deep breath and counted off in his head. One, two and three and four…Billy fell to the ground. A gasp had sounded through the gym and now Billy could hear coughing and harsh breathing. Something wasn’t right.

Making his way out of the section of the gym reserved for ballet classes Billy made his way to the light switch for the rest of the gym. The room was quickly illuminated but Billy could see nothing out of the ordinary. The boxing ring was clear of anyone, the basketballs were all in place, but there was still the harsh breathing.

“Hello?” He called, again he got no answer. “Hello?”

“Go away Billy, I’m fine.” Billy’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized Michael’s voice.

Billy ran in the direction the voice had come from, on the far side of the boxing ring Billy could see the edge of one of Michael’s old boots. He rounded the side and tried not to gasp when he saw the state of his friend.

“Michael, what happened?” Billy sunk to his knees him.

“Nothing, just go away.” Michael answered as he tried to push himself up from where he’d been laying on the ground.

“Bullocks, look at you!” Billy argued as he helped Michael sit up.

The left side of Michael’s face was black and blue and a cut above his eye was leaving a bright red trail of blood down to his chin. He moved in slow staccato motions as he settled himself back against the side of the boxing ring.

“Look, it’s not a big deal. Just leave it alright?”

“No, no Michael it’s not alright. Who did this to you? Was it those two pricks I saw on the way in?”

Michael’s laugh turned into a cough “Those two? No, I could take them” he smirked.

“This is not funny Michael, if it wasn’t them who did this to you?”

Michael just looked at him like he was an idiot and it was then that Billy realized he was. Of course he’d seen the aftermath of Michael’s father’s work; he’d just never seen it moments after the fact. Probably because Michael escaped to places that were usually deserted, like the gym. Billy dropped the subject and sat down next to Michael with a defeated look. He hated that Michael had to live with a drunken brute for a father but what could he do? He was just a kid.

Looking at Michael he didn’t feel like a child though. He felt all his sixteen years and then some. Everyone at school always took shots at him for never dating. Truth be told he did have the opportunity; he just didn’t have the drive. Not until he had come back home for the first time in five years and seen his best friend walking towards him from the football pitch. Then proceeded to spend a week finding out that despite the fact Michael had grown and learned to hide his true nature away, he was still the same kid he’d left. He was a bit wiser and a bit more wary of the world but still the same kid.

“Are you alright?” Billy asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Michael assured him. “Go back and practice.”

“Nah, don’t feel like it.” Billy replied, “Besides its New Years Eve.” Billy reached over and began brushing the blood from the side of Michael’s face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Got any resolutions?” Michael asked.

“Aye, you?”

“Aye” Michael nodded looking into Billy’s eyes.

“What’s yours?” Billy asked running a hand down the side of Michael’s face as he finished clearing the blood away.

“I asked you first.” Michael smirked as he moved forward into Billy’s space.

“I’m going to try not to kiss you.” Billy stated even as his face inched closer to Michael’s. “What’s yours?”

“To make you break yours.”

Their mouths met hesitantly but soon the kiss gave way to something more intense. Michael’s mouth opened against Billy and Billy took the opportunity to seek out the other boy’s tongue with his own. Michael’s hands traveled up Billy’s chest until his arms wrapped around his shoulders and soon Billy was leaning in, tipping Michael onto his back.

A loud bang sounded outside the gym as the first of the evenings fireworks exploded in the sky and Michael jumped away.

“This…we…I-I have to go.” Michael hobbled to his feet grasping onto the side of the boxing ring for stability.

“What’s wrong?” Billy asked standing up beside him.

“What’s…what’s wrong?” Michael asked, “Well right now a few things not the least of which is I’ve just made out with my straight best friend.”

“Michael, I never said I was straight.”

“Well you never said you weren’t!”

“Well I thought the whole kissing you thing would be a good indicator.”

“Listen, I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I don’t need your pity.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I have to go.”

That was the last time Billy had spoken to Michael. He’d had to leave the next day in order to be back to school in time for his first class. Once back, he’d started several letters to Michael, all of which were disastrous failures and unworthy of being sent. Billy just couldn’t seem to put down on paper what he really felt, it was all to complicated…or perhaps too simple but either way a letter, he’d decided, just wouldn’t do.

So, Billy spent an exorbitant amount of time during his year at school trying to find the correct way to tell his friend that he loved him. That he found, was going to be the easy part, making Michael believe it was another problem all together. Billy started off slowly simply trying to map out what he would say, he practiced in the mirror and even talked to Monica and Gregory about different approaches to use. Eventually, Billy had come up with a casual speech that he was sure would get his point across, as long as he remembered to ask Michael to hold his comments until the end.

For better or worse he’d finally had a plan and by the time the bus pulled into the station in Everington he was ready to march over to Michael’s house and make him listen.

That’s when Tony had told him the news.

Michael had disappeared just over three months ago. The police had turned up witnesses that said the “activity” at the house had been getting louder and louder over the past weeks but no one who could point to Michael’s whereabouts. The general consensus was that the old man had finally gone too far and killed the boy and then stuck his body somewhere the police couldn’t find. Without a body it was hard to get a murder charge to stick and so the old man was still free.

Tony had had to restrain Billy from going over to the house and strangling Michael’s father with his bare hands. Once he finally came out of his room that was. The only reason he’d stayed away was because his father had pointed out that Michael wouldn’t have wanted his best friend thrown in jail over a man that was going to be a social pariah for the remainder of his life anyway.

So when Billy saw those familiar blue-green eyes look at him from across the bar, only one thought was important. ‘He’s not getting away that easy.’

“Oh no you don’t!” Billy called Michael’s attention back to him as he served two pints to the other patron. “You get your dead Scottish arse back over here!”

Fri, 25 May 2007 06:44:05 GMT

Title: Carnivale (11/18)
Rating for chapter: R
Pairings: EW/OB
Summary: Elijah is the star of a carnival side-show that passes through Orlando's town, but unlike most performers Elijah is kept against his will. (Werewolf!Lij) (unbetad, mistakes are my own.)

Chapter 11-

Running through the dense woods Elijah ducked in and out of the thick brush whipping around trees and jumping over fallen limbs. His breath came in harsh pants as he began to change. Overhead he could see the full moon rising; he had to get as far away from the village as possible, before it was too late. Gathering all the strength he could, he heaved himself further at a faster pace, all the while keeping an eye on the cloudless sky.

Elijah could feel his canines growing longer and faint copper taste of his own blood swept over his tongue causing his pulse to quicken as the monster inside him shivered with pleasure. His vision clouded over, leaving him blind for a fraction for a second before he saw through the wolf’s eyes. Using his sharpened senses he continued to rush away from the nearby village; he couldn’t afford to risk hurting someone. His claws sharpened and extended next before the bones in his fragile hands contorted, bending and breaking into a new form that sent waves of pain through his body. Soon fur was growing and his mind was becoming fuzzy. Soon he’d be gone completely.

Suddenly his body stilled, he smelled food. His body crumpled and twisted, a snout formed over where his mouth and nose had been. Fur covered his body and he rested for a moment on all fours. The moon rose to its zenith and the monster howled.

Again, a slight wind brushed past his face bringing with it the scent of meat, of flesh. The wolf bounded through the dense forest with the ease of an animal that was at home in its territory. He followed the strong scent, it was musky and heavy on the air; it had to belong to big game. This would be an exhilarating hunt. Jumping off a small incline the wolf landed on the soft dirt and continued his path towards his prey.

When the smell became overwhelming the wolf slowed to a stop crouching down in the overgrown grass. His ears perked as a small rustle sounded twenty feet before him. Inching forward he moved silently, in the dark he could see the outline of a tall pale animal.

A sudden shock of panic swept through him quickly and the wolf stood still for a moment before shaking its main and refocusing its attention on its prey. The animal didn’t sense its presence. The kill would be quick and efficient.

The animal moved to the bank of a small lake and leaned over. The wolf saw its opening and charged. Running silently and pouncing on its shoulder, the wolf’s teeth dug into the neck tugging hard and sending its prey to the ground quickly. Falling with the other animal, the wolf finished the job quickly focusing on the artery. His victim was dead instantly and laid silent before him. Again the cold chill of panic slid down the wolf’s spine and suddenly the wolf was gone and Elijah sat in its place.

With blood covering his bare chest and hands Elijah looked into the shocked eyes of his dead lover.

Elijah awoke in a cold sweat, adrenaline pushing its way quickly through his veins. Bringing his hands up before his face, Elijah examined them for blood and only after finding none did he breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

A small movement beside him called Elijah’s attention to Orlando’s sleeping form. Elijah could feel his panic starting to dissipate as he watched Orlando’s dark curls, which had fallen over his face, stir with every breath in and out. His lover was alive; it was all just a dream, a horrible, terrifying nightmare, but still a dream.

Elijah turned on his side towards Orlando and pushed his hair back behind his ear to reveal his peaceful face. Looking over him Elijah couldn’t help but wonder how he’d fallen so hard so fast. Just weeks ago he was sitting in his silver encrusted caravan waiting for the next show when he would be forced to perform again, now he was laying beside Orlando in a soft bed. Their bed, it was their bed now, just like it was their life. Elijah was no longer a lone attraction; he was someone’s partner…someone’s mate.

Orlando stirred mumbling something in his sleep and unconsciously moving closer to Elijah’s warmth. Elijah wrapped his arms around his lover reveling in the sensation of holding someone close without fear. It was a great gift Orlando had given him, to be able to touch someone with out being afraid.

Most people, Liv being the one exception, had been afraid to touch the carnival monster. Who could blame them, really? A person who could turn into a vicious beast on command isn’t about to set everyone at ease. That was all expected of course, even his mother had been wary of him as he grew older. Elijah reasoned that was probably why they’d deposited him with Bean as soon as they’d immigrated to England.

What may have been more unexpected though was that Elijah feared contact with other people just as much as they did with him. The crucifix shaped scar behind his ear was witness to the kind of treatment he’d received at the hands of “well meaning” mystics and holy men and the spider web traces of faded burns covering his torso were evidence of what bad men could do to him if given the opportunity. Elijah had grown up being feared and in turn became fearful.

The first time Liv had touched him through the bars of his cage Elijah had flinched and shied away. In the end he had hugged Liv, the night she’d helped him escape but even then he felt awkward and vulnerable in a way that made him scared and uncomfortable. It wasn’t until the day in the tailor’s shop when his forehead had rested against Orlando’s that human touch had been a comfort to him.

“Stop thinking so much” Orlando mumbled, moving so that he was looking up at Elijah.

“Sorry” Elijah smiled snuggling down under the blanket with Orlando.

“What were you thinking about?” Orlando asked, trailing his hand down Elijah’s bare side.

“It’s not important.”

“It is important to me.”

“Fine, nosey.” Elijah kissed Orlando on the nose, “I was thinking about how my life has changed since I got here.”

“Good change, yeah?”

“Of course” Elijah traced Orlando’s lips with his thumb “I’ve woken up in bed with you for the last week. I would say that is a vast improvement.”

“Then why did you look worried?”

“Because I am” Elijah stated simply.

“What are you worried about this early in the morning?” Orlando sat up facing Elijah who sat with his back against the headboard.

“A lot of things,” Elijah sighed, “I’ve been having these dreams…”

“Do you want to tell me about them?” Orlando asked, seeing Elijah’s body tense.

Elijah shook his head no, because he didn’t. He didn’t want to tell Orlando that he had dreams of him dying. Not only dying but being hunted and killed by the wolf, by him. Looking at Orlando’s worried expression though, Elijah conceded, Orlando had a right to know what he’d gotten himself into. What a monster his mate truly was; even if it cost Elijah the one man he’d ever loved.

“I don’t want to scare you.” Elijah could hear his voice shaking.

“You won’t.” Orlando rested his hand on Elijah’s thigh in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

Elijah rested his hand over Orlando’s and took a deep breath, “In them, in the dreams, the wolf, it…I attack you. I don’t know it’s you” Elijah explained hurriedly, “but I jump at you from behind and my teeth are around your neck…” tears began to fall from Elijah’s eyes, “And you…you’re so still and you don’t even scream and then I’m me again. I’m me and you’re so still, Orlando and I’m covered in your blood and I’ve killed you and I don’t know what to do…I’m so scared…”

Orlando reached over pulling his lover into his lap. Elijah let himself go limp as silent tears slid down his cheeks. Feeling weak in front of Orlando was something Elijah had never considered and now that he did he couldn’t help but hate himself for it. But he couldn’t bear to move away from Orlando’s warmth. Not if it might be the last time Orlando could bring himself to hold him lovingly. Surely after what he’d said Orlando wouldn’t want to stay that close to him. So Elijah buried his head against Orlando’s firm chest breathing in his unique scent and wishing that time would stand still for just a moment so that he could savor his last moments in his lover’s arms.

“I’m so sorry” he muttered.

Orlando pushed Elijah away with a gentle hand and directed Elijah’s eyes up towards his own. Elijah hurriedly wiped the tears from his cheeks feeling ashamed of his weakness and turned his head away.

“It’s okay to be scared” Orlando whispered in his ear. Elijah simply nodded but Orlando was well aware that he didn’t believe it. “You know I would never let you hurt me.” Elijah couldn’t help but smirk because it was true, Orlando could defend himself, especially now. “If there is one person in the world that I am safe from, it’s you.”

Elijah looked up into Orlando’s face and watched as Orlando’s eyes turned an icy blue for a moment and his left eye winked at him. Elijah felt his panic ebb away slowly, replaced by sense of calm and belonging. Orlando was his True Mate, he’d changed for him and their bond would keep the wolf from harming Orlando, he was sure of it.

Orlando leaned over in bed kissing the corner of Elijah’s mouth. “We are safe.” He whispered “It was just a nightmare.”

“I love you.” Elijah said as an embarrassed blush spread across his cheeks.

Orlando beamed; Elijah had never said it before. Orlando had told Elijah that he loved him the night of his transformation and the morning after, but Elijah had never come out and said it himself. Though Orlando knew he felt the same, hearing the words coming from Elijah of his own volition, was something else entirely.

“Prove it.” Orlando smirked.

Elijah surged forward taking Orlando’s mouth with his and tipped Orlando so that he was lying on his back with Elijah straddling his waist.

“What did you have in mind?” Elijah asked running a hand down Orlando’s strong chest.

“I was thinking…”Orlando leaned up to whisper into his lover’s ear, “You could use this.” Orlando’s hand gently squeezed Elijah’s hardening length.

Elijah sucked in a hard breath through his teeth and looked down at his lover with black eyes. Only a sliver of silvery blue remained around his cornea reminding Orlando of a hollow moon. Leaning up Orlando lowered Elijah’s head so that he could kiss the lids of one eye and then the other before lowering his lips over Elijah’s.

Elijah slid his hands over Orlando’s broad chest stopping to run his fingers over the pink nipples. Eliciting a moan from Orlando, Elijah took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside the warm cavern of his lover’s mouth. Orlando’s tongue met his and slid softly against Elijah’s lips.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“No, that is not what I’m saying” Billy laughed as he sat his pint down on the table.

“Then clarify it for me, blacksmith” Orlando smirked.

The local pub was all but deserted at the late hour. It wasn’t surprising though, seeing as tomorrow was Sunday and most people in the village would be getting up early to attend morning mass. The only people who were drinking this late were drunkards who couldn’t be bothered with what day it was and Billy and himself.

Orlando had arranged for Billy to meet him at the late hour, hoping to convince Elijah to join them, knowing that the risk of him being noticed or recognized from the carnival would be much less at this time. However, Elijah had decided to stay at home arguing that no matter how few people would be about, it was still too soon for him to be out in the open.

Orlando had of course been disappointed; he wanted to be able to go out in public with his lover just like he would any other friend. He’d also hoped to be able to tell Billy about their relationship. His best friend was the only person who knew about Orlando’s proclivities besides his departed parents, and he wanted to be able to share his joy with him. If one person would understand it would be Billy.

Orlando looked over at his friend who was still laughing at something inconsequential they had been arguing about and couldn’t help but feel elated himself. Billy’s happiness was infectious. Though there was a time not long ago when Billy’s light had been dampened by loss, his spirit had won out over the melancholy. He was Orlando’s salvation when his parents had passed and his dearest friend since childhood. He wanted to share his happiness with him, but without knowing how Elijah felt about sharing their relationship with others, opted to stay quiet.

“Are you even listening to me?” Billy asked, seeing that his friend’s attention had wandered.

“Sorry” Orlando brought himself back, “What were you saying?”

“Nothing to worry about” Billy waved him off, “So how goes it with the wolf-boy?”

“Billy!” Orlando looked around making sure no one had heard him.

“Piss off, no one around here is listening to us, and even if they were they’d be too drunk to remember what they heard in the morning.”

“Still, I’m just…”

“Aye, you care about him, I know.” Orlando nodded. “I’m just glad to see you out of the house. Seems like ages since I’ve seen you.”

“It’s barely been two weeks”

“For us, that’s a long time.”

“I know,” Orlando sighed, “I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with Elijah and all.”

“How is that going, anyway? Last time I saw you two he still hadn’t opened up much, are things better?”

“Things are good, he’s told me a lot about his life in the carnival, nothing before it but it’s a start.” Orlando finished off his pint, “He’s also helping with the animals. He’s a bit of a natural talent.”

“Do you think its part of the whole…dual citizenship thing?”

“Dual citizenship?” Orlando smirked, “that’s horrible.”

“Oi! You were the one who was on about subtlety.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry” Orlando chuckled.

“Hey, you better watch it mate, I may be smaller than you but I’ve worked iron all my life and that’s made me a might stronger than your bony arse.” Billy smiled into his pint.

“Oh yes, who will save me from wee Billy Boyd?” Orlando mocked.

“Keep it up” Billy’s eyebrow rose in invitation.

“Oh you don’t-“

“There you are!” The friend’s head rose from their conversation to see Mr. Tennant looking down at them.

“Mr. Tennant, what can we do for you?” Billy smiled, motioning to an empty seat at their table.

“I’ve come to talk to Mr. Bloom, about…” The tailor spared a glance at Billy, “well about your guest.”

“Billy knows about Elijah,” Orlando assured him “what is the matter?”

“Well, it’s just…well a man came to see me yesterday.”

“Aye” Orlando nodded as he waited for Mr. Tennant to continue.

“Well you see, I wasn’t at home, it was just my eldest David and the man started asking a lot of questions.”

“Questions about what?” Orlando felt his heart rate increase.

“About the village and had any newcomers settled here lately,” Tennant continued, “David, he meant no harm, it’s just that one night I must have gotten a bit drunk and when I get drunk you see, I talk a lot. I must have told him about you bringing Elijah in to get fitted for those new clothes.”

Orlando’s knuckles were turning white as he gripped on to the side of the table.

“Mr. Tennant?” Billy asked, obviously afraid of what was going to be said.

“David, he told the men that you had a man come to live with you.”

“What did this man look like?” Billy asked.

“David said the man was wearing a long red coat.”

Orlando jumped up from the table rushing out of the pub.

All Yoinked from emma_took

Tue, 10 Apr 2007 04:29:38 GMT

A bunch of

Are you smiling?
Not at the moment

When did you last meet someone new?
Last week

Truthfully, what is irritating you now?
I'm trying to load EP 9 of BBC's Robin Hood, it's taking FOREVER!!

When did you last have pizza?
Um...probably early last week at the school cafe.

Do you drink beer?
The only kind I really like is Corona.

Do you have any friends who are famous?
*Pfft* No.

Are you any good at poker?
Never played it

Do you like Monopoly?
Yes but I'm always leery b/c ANNIE IS A CHEATER!

What Do You Want?
Money for tuition and rent!

Are you tired?
YES, but I can't go to bed until this EP loads!

Last spoken words you heard?
Something my Art History Professor said.

When is your birthday?
February 2nd 1986

Besides your bed what is your favourite thing in your room?
The big map I have hung over my desk.

Pepsi... Coke.... Pepsi... Coke...?
Ick neither. I don't like caffine...I know it's weird.

Do you ever throw up?
Maybe Like 5 times in my entire life.

Who is the last person you hugged?
Mom or Dad when I left home yesterday to come back to campus.

Is your computer a laptop?
Heck yes it is, it's like a 2003 Toshiba Satelite and it's Navy. I am WAY too attached to it.

How many myspace views do you have?
Whatever, facebook is the shit.

Want to be a prince or a princess?
Not in this day and age, in the past...maybe.

Do you believe dreams come true?
I'm a cynic, it's all a matter of hard work and chance.

Do you like Batman?
Yes, way better than Superman. He's got all the cool gadgets and no tights.

Who is in the room with you?
No one, I'm blissfully alone until my roomie comes back.

Who is the last person to text you?
Ben

Who's the last person you said "I love you" to?
Mom or Dad

What was the last thing you ate?
a Warhead! *mouthwaters*

What was the last thing you did?
read fic.

What is the closest item near you that is blue?
St Ive's FresH2O lotion.

What are you wearing on your feet
flip flops

What instant messaging service do you use?
AIM

What is your favorite pair of shoes?
Either my brown chucks or Plaid Rocket dogs...or my grey heels...I CAN'T CHOOSE!

What do you wear more, jeans or sweatpants?
Jeans, I wear them most everyday.

What is the last movie watched?
Children of Men

What do you currently hear right now?
Train Whistle outside competing with Rock Kills Kid on my iTunes.

What did you do for your last birthday?
went out to dinner and went shopping, and listened to the fam fight as usual.

Where's your favourite place to be?
on a plane.

Where is your phone?
by my elbow

Where do you sleep?
in a dorm room. Ick.

Where do you shop the most?
Macy's, Gap, Thrift Stores

Where did you get the shirt you're wearing?
Gap

Where was your default MySpace picture taken?
Facebook! lol, it's a pic Emile took.

Why did you pick your desktop background?
Because What to do in Case of Fire is my favorite movie EVER!

Why did you kiss the last person you kissed?
because I wanted to. Duh.

Are you happy?
In general.

THE OPPOSITE SEX:

1. Guitar or Drum Player: Two Words: Keith Moon.
2. Skater or Surfer: Skater
3. Brown or Blue Eyes: Blue
4. Blonde or Brunette: Brown
5. Brains or Looks: Can I have both? No, okay then brains.

FOOD:

11. Hamburger or Hot dog: cheeseburger!
12. Pie or Cake: peach pie
13. Apple or Banana: Apple, ew bananas are nasty! <- I agree Emma!
14. Coke or Pepsi: Neither
15. Chicken or Beef: Chicken. Preferably Orange Chicken *licks lips*
16. doretos or chrisps Ahoy: Uh neither, Sun Chips!
17. Pancakes or Waffles: Waffles, no contest
18. Chocolate or Vanilla: Vanilla
19. Strawberry or Cherry: Strawberry
20. Watermelon or Cantaloupe: Watermelon
21. Potato salad or Macaroni Salad: Mac and Cheese.
22. brown or White bread: White bread
23. Tic Tacs or Candy: C-A-N-D-Y
24. Sausage or Bacon: Sausage
25. Sour Cream and Onion or BBQ: Sour Cream and Onion
26. Roast Potatos or Roast Parsnips: WTF is a parsnip? lol
27. Dry Roasted nuts or salted: neither thanks
28: vodka and coke or vodka and orange: Vodka and Orange

SPORTS:

26. Baseball or football: European Football (not American!)
27. Swim or Track: Swim
28. Tennis or Golf: Tennis!
29. Skiing or Sledding: Sledding
30. Cycling or Jogging: Jogging

THIS OR THAT:

31. McDonalds or Burger King: McDonalds
32. kit kat or snickers : Kit Kat
33. Wal*Mart or tesco: Tesco
34. Trophy's or TGI Fridays: TGI Fridays

CLOTHES:
36. Pants or Shorts: Pants
36. Zip-Up or Pull-Over: Zip up
38. Dresses or Skirts: Skirts
39. Mittens or Gloves: Mittens
40. Print or Solid: solid

NAMES

42. Jessica or Jennifer: no cheerleader names...thanks. (sorry if you have that name, please forgive me!)
43. Aaron or Erin: Aaron
44. Carrie or Kari: Kari
45. Todd or Tom: uh... I have to choose from those two? Neither?
46. Lynn or Lee: Lynn
47. Sarah or Susie: Sarah
48. Justin or John: Justin
49. Lisa or Linda: God who is coming up with these names?
50. Mike or Nick: Mike (dad)

THIS OR THAT, AGAIN:

51. Punk or Rock: Punk Rock circa 1970s
52. Pop or Alternative: Alternative by far
68. Aladdin or Lion King: Lion King
69. Snow White or Sleeping Beauty: Sleeping Beauty, the best villian.
70. Comedy or Drama: Drama
71. Horror or Science Fiction: Sci Fi.

COMPUTER/VIDEO GAMES:

76. AOL or MSN: AOL
77. Dogpile or Google: Google
78. Mac or PC: PC
79. PS2 or N64: None, the last thing I owned was a SEGA!
80. Mario Brothers or Zelda: N/A

SCHOOL:

81. Pen or Pencil: Ballpoint
82. English or History: History!!!
83. Math or Science: Maths
84. Home Economics or Woodwook: Woodwork
85. Backpack or Messenger Bag: backpack

ANIMALS:

86. Cat or Dog: Dog
87. Fish or Hamster: Fish
88. Tiger or Lion: Lion
89. Butterfly or Lady Bug: No bugs please
90. Seals or Otters: Seals

ALL ABOUT ME FROM “A” TO “Z”

A - AVAILABLE? Not Really

B - BEST SPORT?: Soccer

C - CRUSHED?: Uh, say what?

E - EASIEST PERSON TO TALK TO?: Annie

F - FAVORITE COLOR?: Green

G - GUMMY BEARS OR GUMMY WORMS?: Sour Worms!

H - HOMESTATE?: Minnesota

I - INSTRUMENT?: I've had an electric guitar since 8th grade, I still can't play a note.

J - JUICE?: Orange Strawberry Banana

K - KIND OF MUSIC?: mostly alternative/indie/punk/rock

L - LONGEST CAR RIDE? 7 hours Minneapolis, Minnesota to Kansas City, Missouri

M - MILK FLAVOR?: NONE, ew

O - ONE WISH?: I really need to win the lottery.

P - PHOBIA/FEARS?: Small dogs, Rodents, Bats, small animals in general.

Q - FAVORITE QUOTE?: "The Revolution can't start until we find the hair gel." - Joe Strummer

R - REASON TO SMILE?: school year is almost over!

S - SONG YOU LAST HEARD?: Golden Touch- Razor Light

T - TIME YOU WOKE UP TODAY?: 7am

U - UNKNOWN FACT ABOUT ME?: I REALLY like being alone, like to an unhealthy degree.

V - VEGETABLE YOU DON'T LIKE?: beets

W - WORST HABIT?: being a push over when it comes to important people in my life.

X - X-RAYS YOU'VE HAD? fingers on right hand, ankles and wrists.

Y - YUMMY FOOD? Anything sour.

Z - ZODIAC/ASTROLOGY SIGN?: Aquarius

Ship Meme

Fri, 30 Mar 2007 21:18:28 GMT

Six ships you like:

1. Elijah/Orlando(LOTR RPS)
2. Jack/Ianto (Torchwood)
3. John/Chas (Constantine)
4. Remus/Sirius (HP)
5. Percy/Oliver (HP)
6. John/Bobby (X-men)

Three ships you used to like, but don't anymore:

7. Rogue/Logan (X-Men)

8. Remus/Regelus (HP)

9. Willow/Tara (BTVS)

Three ships in your various fandoms that you can't stand:

10. Harry/Draco (HP) sorry everyone.

11. Jack/Ten (Torchwood/Dr Who)

12. John/Balthazar (Constantine)

Two ships you're curious about but haven't actually started shipping:

13. Mohinder/Sylar (Heroes)

14. Eragon/Murtagh (Eragon)

15. Mark/Roger (Rent)

1. Why do you dislike #11 so much?

It's nothing against either character, in fact I LOVE both Jack and The Doctor. It's just simply put-
Jack Harkness + Ianto Jones = Love
and
The Doctor + Rose Tyler (also)= Love

2. Who is someone you know that ships #13?

I'm making a banner for butterflyweb which is a Mylar fic.

3. What would be your ideal scenario for couple #3?

John is lost after Chas dies at Ravenscar, he goes to visit Chas' grave and finds out Chas is now an angel. Then there would be a whole lot of Chas helping John with some gigantic demon threat and hurt/comfort (where in John comforts Angel!Chas) and then a healthy dose of smut! *evil laugh*

4. Which is your favorite episode for #1? Try to pick just one, if you can.

N/A

5. How long have you been following couple #6?

Probably 3 or 4 months, it's all butterflyweb's fault.

6. What's the story with #8? What made you stop liking them/caring?

Remus/Sirius is just so much better and really Regelus is a creep if we're going to be honest.

Which ship do you prefer - #2 or #4?

That is an evil EVIL question, Jack/Ianto or Remus/Sirius...hmm I write neither but love both. If I had to choose absolutly had to...R/S just because Janto is somewhat cannon and I could get my fix from watching the show.

8. You have the power to make one ship non existent. Choose from #10 or #12.

10 because it's freakin' everywhere! Then again I'd have a lot of angry girls after me...

9. What interests you about #14?

I've only read the first book and in it I just love the dynamic between Eragon and Murtagh. They just seem like they'd make a great couple who'd have very hot sex. lol

10. When did you stop liking #7?

I don't know, it just kind of happened.

11. Did your waning interest in #9 kill your interest in the show?

Yes, I just missed Oz too much.

12. What's a song that reminds you of #5?

Open Your Eyes by Snow Patrol

13. Which of these ships do you love the most?

To Write, #1. To Read #3 (at least at this moment.)

14. Which do you dislike the most?

Harry/Draco, I can't escape it!

15. If you could have any of these two pairings double date, who would it be? (even better if they're from different shows)

Jack and Ianto with John and Chas. That would be hilarious, Chas would be talking up a storm with Jack while John would sit back brooding and only offering a rude quip from time to time. Ianto would just sit there taking it all in.

16. Have #2 kissed yet? Elaborate if you'd like.

YES!!! Canon! It's freaking canon people! *dies*

17. Did #4 have a happy ending? If the show hasn't ended yet, do you think a happy ending is likely?

Umm...no damn veil.

18. What would make you start shipping #13?

Convincing/realistic/hot/attention-holding stories.

19. If only one could happen, which would you prefer - #2 or #6?

I'd have to go with Jack/Ianto because after all they've been through and all they are no doubt going to go through they deserve to be together. Plus it's Canon! Something like that NEEDS to work out in that kind of arena.

20. You have the power to decide the fate of #10. What happens to them?

Harry realises he's just hanging around Draco to take his mind off the bad "Boy Who Lived" crap he has to deal with. Draco realises he hates Harry and there is no reason to stay with him, even if he is a good shag. They go they're seperate ways and Harry eventually comes to terms with the fact that he's in love with his best friend-Ron. They get together and have hotter sex than he and Draco ever did and live happily ever after after destroying Voldemort.