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

9: So Hum Hallelujah, Just Off The Key Of Reason

A FEW MONTHS LATER

"You should show me that bucket list of yours." I insisted, grabbing towards the list he was adding to with a thick black marker pen.

I'd been eager to see this thing forever now, and he was sat here working on it barely a metre away from me and he wouldn't let me see it. That was unfair, surely. Well Pete certainly didn't think so at the very least, especially judging by the disgruntled expression upon his face.

"Why?" He pulled the notebook closer to his chest, almost taken aback by my hardly horrific 'invasion of privacy'. If he wanted that goddamn thing to be private, then maybe he should work on it, you know, in private and not in his living room right under my curious gaze - a gaze that yearned to fucking wander.

"Maybe I want to see how many of them are about me." I grinned at him watching his bemused expression as my smirk did nothing but widen and nothing but piss him off in the process, which really wasn't all that surprising, but it certainly was amusing at the very least.

"Why would they be about you?" He matched my smirk, wondering if he could make me regret challenging Pete Wentz; of course he couldn't because he was a big fucking softie who just helpfully happened to be in love with me.

"Because you love me and all that shit." Yeah, I was pretty shit when it came to reasons, but I was hardly in the mood to care. I just wanted to see that damn fucking list of his, and give myself some priceless gloating and possibly blackmailing material, because Pete was getting far too arrogant lately.

"I do?" He winked at me, his eyes widening in mock shock just to piss me off like the lovely little bastard he is. I do hate Pete, I do, but then again there's also the matter of being in love with him and that makes my head spin like fucking crazy.

"You do." I grinned at him, watching his expression morph through almost a colour wheel of several others.

"Hmm..." He sighed, I guessed he was considering the possibility by the look upon his face or that was what I hoped at the very least. "I guess I could show you, but only if you promise not to laugh."

I met his gaze, ruining it all within an instant by and out of place and guilty giggle. Fuck. "Stop." He blushed a deep shade of red, and it was kind of cute actually... in a weird way, I guess.

"I'm sorry." I matched his blush. That probably made him a little more comfortable but I honestly didn't know - it seemed to work though. "Show me?" i pulled my face up into a grin to meet his. His eyes met me with nothing short of skepticality.

"Now?" he raised his eyebrows, still entirely unamused with the concept. "Not a fucking chance, Way - not a fucking chance."

"I hate you." It was more than obvious that I was lying, especially for someone that knew me as unfortunately as well as Pete Wentz did.

He looked at me in silence for a few seconds, Pete Wentz puppy dog eyes in action, the puppy dog eyes carrying out the uncharacteristic motion of scrutinising me, or well something that vaguely resembled scrutiny anyway. "You don't."

"Okay," I sighed, biting down on the inside of my lip and reminding myself of just how damn annoying Pete Wentz could be at the best of times. And when that annoying characteristic was paired with that goddamn adorable one, I didn't know how I managed at all.

"Maybe I don't." I admitted after a few moments, gaining what could possibly described as the world's most smug smirk from Pete; I was close to punching him - but I was kind of weak and I doubted that my efforts would really get me very far.

"Make me a sandwich." He winked at me, gesturing towards his kitchen. His smirk increased, pulling dimples into the cheeks of his face.... not his ass... not that I was checking. He was sat down, leaving me in probably the worst position to consider checking his ass out - admittedly, I did want to. There wasn't a chance I was going to tell him that though.