Give Me A Taste Of What You're Really Like (Peterick)

I Keep My Jealousy Close, 'Cause It's All Mine.

It's been about a month since the little *Popsicle* incident and Pete's been trying to make Patrick's life utter torture--bending over at the most inconvenient times--grinding his ass against Patrick's crotch *accidentally* of course--swaggering his hips whenever he walks just to put on that little show he knows Patrick's watching--this all seems to have a lot to do with his ass, well...if that's where he wants the attention..

But none of this is having the desired effect--and by desired effect he means Patrick throwing him against a random desk and just goin' to town. He doesn't actually know when this turned into a challenge to get Patrick to fuck him--instead of a scheme of humiliation. He's not really obliged though, it could be both? But if he lets Patrick do that to him, it could easily backfire..well, even if this is becoming a change of plans--he really does indeed want Patrick to fuck him. hard. ravish him like he's some rare limited edition Bowie record for fuck's sake.

It's also been kind of quiet--like they're not trying to murder each other as much anymore, quiet--for once--probably because Pete's at least made an attempt to keep the peace, there was one little dispute--and okay yeah it was about someone drinking the last coke--but that's not the point, okay?

Whatever, what is the point really is the *desired effect* and Pete's not getting it, he needs to try something else--so being the genius he is he goes to Joe and Brendon.

"What?" Joe asks eyes wide, lurching forward over the table of the booth and Pete can barely even register what he's said over the booming beat of the speakers--why of all places are they at a club?

"I need your guy's help." He repeats, "After you--oh so helped me the first time--"

"Hey I gave you the idea to even do this--" Pete groans, slumping against the table's surface. "I hate you guys, why is the world so cruel to me?" He moans in distress, squirming lightly. "Can't you asshole's help me?"

Brendon rolls his eyes and moves to cross his arms atop of one another. "With what?" He asks, and Joe gives a sudden boisterous laugh. "You want him to fuck you don't you?!" He demands and Pete snaps up, sputtering. "What?!" He scoffs, "I would never absolutely never--"

"Sure." Brendon mutters, taking a sip of his beer. "Why is it you can't just admit to shit."

"Because I totally don't want his dick anywhere near my--" He cuts himself off as head blurs and his eyes go misty at the thought, though the mist clears when Joe whacks him in the shoulder. "Slow your roll, lover boy." He shakes his head in disapproval. "For one thing do you guys still hate each other with that utmost of passion normal lovers crave."

Pete tilts his head, wrinkling his nose at the comment. "I don't know, maybe?" He answers, breathing out a sigh of frustration. "I mean you guys haven't killed each other yet." Brendon adds and Joe nods. "Point."

"I'm pretty sure we'd get fired if we tried--" Brendon snorts into his glass. "Or y'know prison."

"But that's not the point, okay!" Pete growls, waving his arms and *accidentally* smacking Brendon's ear in the process. "Okay do you want me to help you, or do you want me to slap you?"

"Why not both?" Pete waggles his eyebrows, scooting closer. "I will hurt you." Brendon promises, flicking him in the shoulder which Pete exaggerates a cry of pain at, and grasps at the recently abused area. "Why must you bring these rich pains upon me--"

"Aren't we suppose to be focusing." Joe breathes, exhaling heavily in annoyance and they're all silent for a few seconds, whether they're thinking or trying to figure out if they have brains or not--there is currently a lot of alcohol in their systems at the moment.

"Wait!" Brendon squawks making the other two flinch, "Jesus, what?" Pete groans, bringing his hand up to clutch at his chest.

"I have an idea." Joe blinks, his mouth dropping into a frown. "Why is it you who always has the ideas." Brendon shrugs. "'cause I'm more awesome, duh." He says like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "Anyway, Pete you should wear a skir--"