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overpass. seven. ditch the bass soon as you can. i’m waiting. you know where.-xopeter
“Dude, this means we need to find out who that text was supposed to go to.” Brendon smiled slyly, tossing Ryan’s phone back to him.
“You realize Pete’s a fucking slut. That text could have gone to anyone, like, anyone.” Spencer pointed out as he ambled into the room.
“Well.” Brendon started, “Let’s start deducting then, they have to be on Warped-”
“Not necessarily.” Ryan chimed in, “Could just be someone in the area who happens to play bass.” Ryan could have really cared less who Pete was fucking, but much like his friends, he needed some-fucking-thing to do, and if all else fails he could sell it to a magazine.
“Fine,” Brendon rolled his eyes, “We know they play bass..This is hard. Why can’t we just ask William?”
“He’d just tell on us, which would be the same as asking Pete himself.” Ryan shook his head, sitting down and assuming what seemed like an appropriate thinking position.
“Fine, fine, yeah dumbass idea I know.” Brendon sighed dramatically, “We need to redo Build God anyway, Ry, keep an eye on your phone, we’ll know who Pete’s fucking before we finish this album, I can assure you of that, boys.” He grinned mischievously, practically skipping away into the studio as Ryan watched, still in the same pose as he had been, mind swirling with thoughts, some healthier than others.
-
kisses on the forehead are sweeter than kisses on the lips. you’re awake. bus.-peterpan
“Guys come here!” Ryan called, Brendon’s excitement had bled into him throughout the day and he was starting to get progressively more enthusiastic about the idea.
He jumped down from his bed near the same time as the barely awake chorus of Whats and Whys entered his room.
“This better be about another Pete text.” Brendon stated, hand knotted in his hair.
“It is.” Ryan assured, tossing his phone to the others.
“He seems serious.” Brent hummed
“And we know they’re someone on Warped now.” Spencer commented.
“Can you go through your phone and see if there’s anyone with a number like yours?” Brendon asked, chucking Ryan’s phone back at him.
“Sure babe.” Ryan nodded cooperatively, hardly even questioning his response despite of Spencer’s all-knowing smirk.
“I’m done Sherlocking for the night.” Spencer mumbled, walking back out of the room with Brent in tow.
“You know we could just tell them.” Brendon chuckled, wrapping one arm around Ryan’s waist once they were gone.
“Like the wonderful example Pete is setting? No thanks.” Ryan laughed, kissing Brendon’s cheek quickly, “You should go back to bed.”
“If I’m nice about it will you get up and go to breakfast with me tomorrow?” Brendon pouted, rocking on his feet childishly.
“ ‘Course, now sleep, I still have work to do.” Ryan laughed pushing Brendon out of his room and returning to his own bed.
_
i love you for fake-pete
“Why can’t we just know who Pete’s fucking?” Brendon groaned, rolling over on the floor.
“Be honest, Bren.” Spencer laughed, looking down from his stool, “You’d be complaining about how there was nothing exciting if you didn't have a fuckin’ mystery to solve.”
“I didn't want a hard mystery though!” Brendon whined in return.
“Look, someone’s come to rescue you.” Spencer nodded to Ryan as he walked in phone in hand.
“Lemme see!” Brendon popped off the floor childishly, making grabby hands to Ryan’s phone which was quickly supplied.
“No clues!” He pouted, handing Ryan’s phone back, “I hate you all.”
_
of course it’s going to end, who said love was a good thing? thanks for spending the night-petey
“Any more texts?” Brendon asked, sliding into the chair across the table from Ryan happily.
“Just this one, no clues I can see.” Ryan answered, handing his phone over tiredly, while Brendon had driven himself crazy over the case Ryan had sort of given up half way.
“Get out your laptop.” Brendon ordered, addressing his bowl of cereal more than his boyfriend but still serious in his intent.
“Why?” Ryan questioned, obliging anyway.
“We have nothing better to do, look up the headlining bands with what Pete would consider bangable bassists and where they’re from; we’ll try the area codes and then your number.” Brendon answered simply, picking up Ryan’s phone.
“And if by chance person-fucking-Pete picks up?” Ryan quirked an eyebrow, pulling up different tabs as Brendon had instructed.
“Hang up.” Brendon shrugged, “It’s not like my voice is recognizable, Ry, we call, ask their name, and hang up.”
“Fine.” Ryan paused, “918?”
Brendon did as he had previously said as he would before shaking his head, “Sean Bell.”
“714?”
“Tyler.”
“312?”
“Alicyn Michaels.”
“612?”
“Amber Tolkien, don’t know if she faked that or not.”
“862.”
“Mikey-” Brendon paused, glancing up at Ryan, “Dude, I think we just cracked it.”
“No fucking way.” Ryan looked across the table, wide-eyed, “Holy shit I just added him to the list on a whim.”
Brendon’s face lit up in a wide grin, “I’m not gonna risk Spence killing me for waking him up this early, but when we go and meet Pete we gotta bring it up.”
“Why?” Ryan tilted his head, confused.
“We could use it against him.” Brendon got up and pecked Ryan’s lips, “Remember? They don’t know we know, or anyone else does for that matter.”
“Oh.” Ryan nodded, “Okay.”
_
It wasn't a good few weeks before Warped Tour actually did come within an hour’s drive, but when it did, Brendon and Ryan were first to the Fall Out Boy bus, Brendon practically bouncing in his place as he waited while Ryan stood behind, one of Brendon’s hands gripped loosely.
It was Joe who’d greeted them, “Welcome children, or whatever you’re calling yourselves these days, Pete’s in the back and everyone else is playing or something.” He informed, stepping off the bus as they went in.
When they did make their way to the back, they were more than surprised to see some B-movie playing on a small tv and the aforementioned pair tangled up in each other, completely oblivious to Ryan and Brendon.
“You’re together!” Brendon pointed triumphantly, at the very most getting their attention; whereas Ryan quickly sensed the tone and blended accordingly.
“No shit, Brendon.” Pete chuckled, looking back, “Hi Ryan.”
“He wanted you to cry and give us money.” Ryan informed from the hall.
“Him or me?” Pete questioned.
“Both of you, I guess.” Ryan shrugged,
“I gave you a fuckin’ record deal.” Pete laughed, “And Mikey exists which is gift enough.” He gestured to the blushing boy at his side and smiled.
“Now stop thinking you’re smart for figuring out what livejournal users figured out less than a day after it happened and make an album.”