Just Off The Key Of Reason (Pete Wentz/Mikey Way)

6: A Teenage Vow In A Parking Lot

"You're checking out my ass. I can tell." 

Pete's voice came from over the countertop of the comic book store like a foghorn. He wasn't pissed, or at least I didn't think so; being Pete, he could do nothing more but bask in the attention, even if it was unexpected.

In my defence, the guy had a really nice ass. There was little doubt about that, and being his boyfriend, I was practically obliged to stare. It was ass appreciation. I wondered if there was a National Ass Appreciation Day. I really did hope there was, and the guilty party of me just prayed that somehow it could be today.

"I am not." I persisted, trying my best to tear my gaze away from Pete's bending down figure, which really did give me a great view of his ass. It was a 'fine booty' as you may say, but I wasn't keen on letting Pete and his overgrown, mutated ego deal with the matter of compliments thrown around without a second thought. I really did have to watch myself with Pete.

He got up and turned to face me in one fluid motion, catching my gaze within instants, and almost as if he had been planning the whole ordeal as he would of course.

"You totally were." I was caught red-handed with very little I could do other than accept the truth and let his ego simply inflate further.

Really, I was doing his ego a favour by not complimenting him, because I was pretty sure if the thing got any bigger, Pete would just explode all together, and that was a mess I was most certainly not in the mood for cleaning up.

"Damn." I muttered, shaking my head in mock disappointment for myself. He'd most definitely caught me in the act. That wouldn't be quite such a bad thing if Pete ever let go of it that was, but Pete wouldn't. The guy would tease me about this until the day I die.

My ass appreciation would become Pete Wentz's claim to fame. He'd put it on his CV and probably introduce himself as 'Pete Wentz - owner of Mikey Way's favourite ass'. Ass. Ass. Ass. The word ass sounds fucking weird now. This one's definitely Pete's fault; at least my conscience can live off that.

Pete chuckled, letting a smirk ride over his lips as he looked me up and down; he was definitely trying to get in some two way ass appreciation, but there was no way I was turning round for Pete Wentz, even for a brief moment.

The thing is Pete would probably snapchat my ass with the caption 'best booty' to everyone in his contacts, and that included my brother. Don't blame me, but I'd rather that Gerard didn't get a picture of my ass with a cringe-worthy caption.

He is my brother after all, and there's also the matter that he'd probably print the goddamn thing out onto A2 paper and stick it all over the house like some sort of porn propaganda, courtesy of Mr Pete Wentz.

"I don't blame you - I have a lovely ass." Pete never really quite got the concept of modesty at all. I think the overinflated ego was something to do with that, which was maybe just a little bit my fault, but mostly his, because how you can live without something being Pete's fault.

That sounds kind of horrible, when you actually think about it, but I'm going to justify it with Pete's goddamn ego. I would torch that thing within a second. Maybe I'll burn along with Pride and Prejudice, and Ryan's scarves.

What concerned me the most about this was that Gerard was actually considering arranging a bonfire. Gerard and fire is not necessarily the best of combinations, but then again of course, fire and I is infinitely worse, as my college professor would most definitely agree.

"Meh, your ass is average." I shrugged it off, not letting him inject another compliment into his ego like a shot of heroin. Maybe I'd have to get those blue lights they have in the lifts and toilets in the shopping centre to stop people doing drugs; they make it so you can’t see your vein or something. I don't know - I'm not exactly an expert upon drug prevention methods, but I do try my best.