superhuman

SIX

Patrick is on his mind.
Constantly.

He's too busy imagining his mouth and his eyes and his grin and his voice and him to be listening to Brendon when he tries to teach him about the history of telepaths, or when Dallon tries to explain why the basement is a no-go zone.

Although it's obvious that Patrick is not ready to stop hating him; he punched Pete in the face during hand-to-hand combat (which Dallon insisted upon) and "accidentally" kneed him in the balls during training, much to his displeasure.

(He also assumes he spat into his food, as the suspicious amount of blond hair in his spaghetti a few nights back might've suggested).

Which is why the sudden contact worries him. A lot.

"Pete!" Patrick giggles, throwing his arms around his neck, falling into his lap, grinning like an idiot. His face is centimeters away from Pete's, and his breath skirts across Pete's mouth. It stinks of whiskey, the almost putrid stench of the alcohol filling his nose as Patrick stared at him, eyes shimmering with faux innocence.
His hips messily ground down onto Pete's, one hand messily splayed across his sternum, smirking as a soft moan escapes Pete's lips.
Fuck.
Patrick looked every part a twink but in this situation, Pete was the one nearly coming in his pants from a few well placed strokes of Patrick's hips.
It's not until Patrick leans in to kiss him, one hand already knotted into his hair and one halfway up his shirt that Pete realizes - he's drunk. Not just buzzed - pissed drunk.
He shoves gently at the more dominant's hip, staring at him evenly.
"Trick," He says evenly, "You're drunk. Really drunk."
"Still wanna fuck youu!" He sing songs in a whisper, lips hovering right above his ear, before sloppily kissing just below it. It's not sexy anymore, not that Patrick is hammered. Pete is not about to be accused as a rapist by Dallon, or even worse, Brendon - Brendon's one of the few people who haven't acted like he's done something immorally wrong via existing as a telepath.
"I won't let you fuck me if you're drunk." He said strongly, shoving him off harder now; he lands onto his ass, and simply glares at him.
"Listen. You're pissed drunk, and I like you a lot. But I like you better sober. Let's get you back to your room and with some water in your system. If you still want to fuck in the morning, when you're sober, we might. For now, try to get some sleep, eh?"
He's babbling, he knows, but he wants Patrick to be ok - he's so small that it wouldn't take too much to give him alcohol poisoning.
He goes straight to the kitchen, filling a glass of water with shaky hands.
A pale brunette boy almost melts away from the shadows, cold hazel eyes regarding him cautiously. He's taller than Pete, but wiry, and is dressed in a ratty Anthrax shirt and too-small, torn jeans.
"So you're Patrick's new fling, eh?" There's some bitterness behind his voice as he states flatly, "My brother was one of his flings too. Blurry got him."
"Who's Blurry?" He blurts out, fearful. "Who the fuck are you?"
"Mikey. I'm a reality bender." He snaps his fingers and suddenly Pete is hog tied and he is seated on a majestic, Game of Thrones-esque throne, with a cold smirk across his face.

"Let me go!" Pete struggles helplessly and Mikey simply smirks, shaking his head.

"You're a looker, you know? Gerard was too. Was. You'll end up just like Gee if you're not careful.." He's strolling casually towards him as he speaks, stroking his cheek almost tenderly with the back of his palm as he speaks.
Pete gathers all the courage he can manage and spits, right into his face. Mikey's eyes darken, and he graps Pete's jaw, forcing him to stare into his eyes.

"Listen, you little prick. Patrick is bad news. So is Blurry. You'll be fucking ghosted if you keep trying anything with him. If Blurry doesn't do it himself, I will. You just made a powerful enemy, you know that, right? I could make you go insane via seeing your family die horribly. Or even perfect little Pattycakes.. He hates Blurry enough to wish him dead, so it wouldn't be surprising if tricking him into shooting you, thinking you were him.." The playful smirk returns, and he releases his jaw, clapping his hands like a child.
"We're going to have so much fun!"

a/n // shitty short chapter w some peterick and mikey!!
gasp mikey is a dick who would've known 0: