This also has Roger Daltrey in it. A love triangle if you will.

~1970~

"Hey Moon, what's up with Pete and Rog?" You asked your friend, after a concert.

"I don't know. They've been eye fucking each other. I reckon they like each other."

You eyed Roger's ass. "You like them, too. Don't deny yourself, Y/n." A deep voice growled, making you jump.

"John, I know you're the spider king but stop scaring like that."

Roger and Pete came over, smiling their asses off. "Y/N, would you like to go get some ice cream with me and Petey?" You looked at Moonie.

"C'mon, like we're gonna hurt sweet, little Y/N?"

"Sure." He nodded and walked out with his hand in John's. You were right, they were gay for each other. I knew it. I knew it. I knew it. Anywho, you linked arms with both of them.

"Here you are." Said Pete, as the little ice cream shop came into view. You smiled. You remembered vaguely going to something like this when you were little.

"What would you like, sir?" A man at the counter asked in complete 1940s ice cream parlor outfit. His smile reminded you of James Dean's.

"Uhh, 2 vanillas and a chocolate, for the little lady." Pete said, giving the man a dollar. "And two Cokes."

"So, Y/N, what do you want to do after we after we eat our ice cream?" He asked in a low voice, waiting. He looked like a god. His skin, with that mess of curls. You could imagine banging him. Moaning in pure ecstasy.

"Both of you, baby." You whispered in his ear, tracing the scar on his stomach.

Pete came back with the ice cream a moment later, kissing you on the cheek. You giggled. He was adorable sometimes, hot others. We ate our ice cream, sitting and watching people go by, mocking them ever so often. They cracked you up. But it wasn't because they were richer than most people, it was because some people act like they're the coolest in the room, or the 'hello, I'm a badass' then trip over themselves and cry for their mummy.

You finished the last of your ice cream, and began fiddling with your hands, looking down at Roger's and Pete's laps. A mischievous smirk spread on your face, as you ran a hand up Pete's thigh. You started to palm him. He bit his lip, struggling to keep his composure.

As soon as Roger noticed he threw his ice cream away, grabbing my hand. Pete followed us out of the parlor.