activism (badlands) wrote in wentzwalker,

Be Okay [standalone]

Title: Be Okay
Author: morelikerelapse
Pete Wentz/Jon Walker (mentions of past boyfriends/girlfriends)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: After a break-up, Pete finds himself turning to someone he didn't expect to turn to for comfort.
Disclaimer: It's not real.
A/N: Join wentzwalker!

    Pete slammed his phone down against the counter; his teeth grinding behind pressed lips. He reached over and turned up the volume for the radio on the soundboard before dropping back against the wall. Pete's legs gave out from beneath him as he slid down to the gray carpet, speckled with pink dots. Face pressed into hands and all he could think of was her blonde hair that smelled of oranges- it always reminded him of this orange grove his family would drive past on trips up north in the summer- and how he would never smell it again. Not now. She had taken that away from him.

    Pete bit down on his lip. His fingers wove through his dry hair, tugging on it. His head went back against the wall, hitting it, repeatedly. Distracting. Anything to keep from crying.

    And that was when Jon Walker walked into the studio, perhaps not a minute too late, and rushed over, grabbing Pete's shoulders. "Dude... what is wrong?"

    Pete pressed his hands against Jon's chest, shoving him away from his own body, pushing himself up onto his feet. Hands, vigorously rubbing his face until eyes, squinted, looked at the gentle face in front of him. "It's nothing. Nothing new."

    "You know I don't believe that, Petey..." Of course he wouldn't, no one would but when it came to Jon Walker... well, Jon saw through almost everyone. Pete shrugged. He shrugged and sighed, but he wasn't going to let Jon in. Not now. Pete didn't need sympathy for something that was probably his own doing. "Come on," Jon mumbled, softly. Nasally. That voice was enough to drive Pete insane right now.

    Pete sighed again.

    "...It's over, isn't it?"

    "Aren't you a motherfucking genius?" Pete muttered. Jon rolled his eyes and turned down the volume on the radio. Pete punched his arm. "Don't fucking touch that!"

    The volume went back up.

    Jon frowned and placed his soft, fat hand on Pete's small, dry, tan hand. "Why don't we just talk about this? You can't keep it inside forever." Pete shook his head. "Pete... it's not your fault, whatever happened, don't blame yourself. Girls like that? They're not meant for guys like you."

    Pete ground his teeth together again and muttered, "guys like me?"

    "I mean guys like us," Jon quickly corrected himself. "You know what I mean. Guys like us; we're just stupid boys from Chicago. We talk big but we can't walk that walk. Girls like that, Pete, they're all about the walk and latching onto whatever or whoever will get their name in the magazine. Use you up and spit you out like gum. It was never personal so... don't worry, things will work out."

    Everyone always said things would work out. Morgan; things will work out. Jeanae, things will work out. Things will work out. Things will work out. Tony; things will work out. All those unrequited loves, boys and girls alike; things will work out. And now her, things will work out. "What the fuck do you know?" Pete snapped at him. "You don't know shit, Jon Walker. Your whole life has been one lucky break after another. You don't know fucking shit about things being hard, about this. Nothing will ever work out," his words dripped out slowly through his teeth, vindictive and sharp like knifes. Pete turned on his heels and silently stormed out of the studio.

    Jon sighed and went to turn down the radio before he got a headache. 'Warning, Cook county has just been put under a tornado warning effective until two o'clock p.m.' Then Jon groaned and he knew he had to go outside to bring Pete back inside despite being upset with him. But he just couldn't leave Pete outside in weather like that; he was much too nice.

    He ran out of the studio as the rain began to pour down and grabbed Pete's arm, tugging on it. "You have to get inside." Pete pulled his arm out of Jon's grasp and shook his head. "There's a fucking tornado warning!"

    "Who cares?" Pete tugged on his soaking wet shirt that clung to his skin and sat down on the floor. "Either you go inside or you sit out here with me but I am not going inside." He wasn't sure why he wanted Jon to stick around now, but he did and maybe he would. Maybe that'd be okay.

    And Jon didn't know why he was sitting down next to Pete, but he was. Maybe it was just to make sure he would be okay. Then his arm was around Pete's neck, comforting, and Pete was leaning into him. "I just want to be okay," Pete admitted quietly.

    Jon looked at Pete and Pete looked back at him. Their heads slowly, steadily moved in closer together and their lips met. Jon cupped Pete's cheek and his tongue found it's way into Pete's mouth, wanting to comfort him. Pete's tongue rubbed against Jon's tongue, for reasons he didn't know. He could never love Jon. Not like that. Not like this.


    Pete crawled onto his lap, pressing his chest against Jon's chest, arms wrapping around his neck. Jon wrapped a protective arm around Pete's small body. Jon could get used to this.

    His hand founds itself unbuttoning, unzipping, tugging on Pete's pants. Ignoring the rain. The thunder. The lightening. His hand found itself wrapped around Pete's erection, softly tugging on the length. Just wanting to make Pete feel good. Okay. Safe. Pete moaned softly into Jon's mouth, his body squirming a little from the sudden pleasure. He could get used to this. But not from Jon. Not like that. Not like this.

    Well, maybe.

    Pete's head tilted back, letting the rain run down his face and neck. His mouth hanging open, panting softly between his quiet whimpers. His body tensed up as he released his sticky, thick cum onto Jon's strong hand.

    Pete leaned into Jon as he tugged up Pete's pants. Jon placed a kiss on Pete's temple and maybe like that, like this, Pete could be okay.

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