Petekey Standalones

We Walk the Streets at Night (We Go Where Eagles Dare)

We Walk the Streets at Night (We Go Where Eagles Dare)
By: Pennyplainknits
AU
Pete/Mikey, Frank/Gerard, Pete/Ryan
PG-13
8500 words

Shit, Pete realises, he doesn't even know if Mikey goes to school here. He knows pretty much nothing about him other than that he likes British punk and Star Wars and superheroes and had a unicorn patch on his black denim jacket, and is kind of perfect, and, god, Pete is such an idiot.

*
The music's so loud and distorted, Pete can barely figure out the words the guy is screaming out of the speakers, but that doesn't matter. He's here to dance his ass off, catch up with his boys (and Victoria), and forget the hell that was his fucking math midterm.

"How did you think you did?" Nate asks, bending down to shout into his ear.

"I don't want to talk about it," Pete says, holding his bottle high so the press of the dancing crowd doesn't make him spill it. "I'd be fine if they just let me write essays for all the answers. How did X feel when Y left him for another man, you know?"

"I don't think math works like that," Nate says.

"I know." Pete shakes his head, flicking sweat out of his eyes. "Don't care now, it's over either way, right?"

"Right," Nate says, and he puts his hand out to steady Pete as the crowd surges again.

Pete nods thanks, and pushes into the crowd as Taking Back Sunday blares out of the speakers, putting his arms in the air and dancing his ass off, until the only thing that's in his head is the press of bodies and the thud of the bass. It's working perfectly until a girl knocks into him and he gets a look at her.

"Oh."

It's Morgan. She looks--beautiful. Pete can't stand to look at her. She tucks her hair behind her ear, that same dear, familiar gesture, and smiles.

"I didn't know you'd be here," she says. "How have you been, Pete? It's good to see you."

Pete opens his mouth, but he knows that if he says anything, it will be to beg her, beg her to take him back, and he knows that that would be a bad idea. That they were always a bad idea. The voice in his head that reminds him of this sounds suspiciously like Patrick's.

Instead, he turns around and pushes his way through the crowds with some difficulty. The party's in full swing now, with what looks like half of campus letting off steam. He stumbles through the press of people until he can find another door. It could be the door to the bathroom, for all he cares, he's not above hiding in the shower.

It turns out to be a small den, people sitting around on couches and on the floor, haze of grey-blue smoke in the air. The music in here is muffled, but still loud enough to hear when it switches to Green Day. Most importantly, though, there's no Morgan.

Pete flops down onto a beanbag, and only registers he kicked someone on the way down when he hears a flat "Ouch."

"Oh, hey, dude, sorry," he says, drawing his legs up out of the way. "Didn't see you there."

"I was practicing being invisible," the guy says. "I guess it finally worked."

Pete gets a good look at him then, bleached hair in a swoop over half of his face, tight black jeans, awesome boots all straps and buckles, and--

"Hey, Buzzcocks," he says, nodding at the guy's shirt. "Fucking awesome."

"You like them?" The guy's mouth twitches up at one corner. He has green eyes, but they look a little red, like the smoke is getting to them. He's pretty much the cutest thing at the whole party, Pete decides.