[A/N: ...smut...]

Dear Patrick,

Lots of things have happened since our last date. I say lots, I mean, like two things, and both of them happened yesterday. One was a lot more fun than the other.

So you know how we used to be in that band that won awards and had fans and stuff? Yeah. We suck.

Like, not even aw-don't-be-so-hard-on-yourself kind of suck, we really, truly suck. A lot.

We had our first ever actual practice yesterday, and it went bad. If I wasn't playing bass, I would've put my fingers in my ears. We were all over the place, Joe kept stopping 'cause he didn't know which part of the song came next, and you'd shout at him, then you'd fuck the words up and he'd shout at you, and we couldn't get the sounds to go like they used to be, then the mic went weird and we pretty much gave up.

Me and Andy just sort of watched everything go to shit, because we'd actually practised, rolling our eyes as you kids squabbled over chord progressions.

After several attempts at Sugar, we decided to call it a day, otherwise somebody was gonna end up with a black eye.

We started to pack up, as much as we needed to anyway, we were gonna be back there tomorrow, solemnly turning off amps and placing guitars back in their cases. We were at Andy's house, 'cause he was the only one with a drum kit set up, and also the only one who was willing to have his basement subjected to four short, angry men.

Me and you left the other two down there while we headed up to the hall, deflated and sighing.

"I just can't believe we were that bad," you'd shrugged as you put your shoes on. "That was some class-A shit right there."

"I know. But, I'm sure it'll be better tomorrow, when people are a bit less...tetchy." By sure, I meant very very unsure, by better I meant hopefully slightly less completely crap, by tetchy I meant ready to rip each other's faces off and by people I meant you.

You ran your fingers through your hair, growling. "But we're awful! No-one remembers anything, it's ridiculous!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, me and Andy remember pretty much everything."

"Oh, just shift the blame why don't you," you tutted, wrestling with your jacket.

"I dunno, I just think that as the singer, it would be good if you knew at least some of the words."

"Shut up! I do know the words," you insisted, batting my arm.

"Mumbling incoherent sounds into the microphone and hoping nobody notices does not count as knowing the words."

"Well I – listen, you – ugh," you finished, giving up on whatever sentence that was gonna be.

Laughing at you, I gave you a pat on the head and pranced further down the hall, avoiding your swatting hands. "Get back here, you ass," you snapped, chasing after me.

I turned around just in time to catch you as you hurtled into me, cuddling you tight as you attempted to exert your wrath.

"Hey – Pete – let go, I'm trying to be angry – Pete!"

Squeezing you one last time, I put you back on the floor, smiling angelically into your scowl. "Hey, cheer up, or I'll kiss you."

Your glare deepened, but I saw you bite back a grin. "Well then, I guess you'll just have to kiss me."

Sighing, I pecked you lightly on the nose, my fingers finding your forearms and running across your wrists to hold your hands. To be honest, I was amazed I'd managed to make it though the whole practice without jumping on you.

Dropping the humour, I went back to my usual besotted boyfriend status, playing with your fingers and stroking the backs of your hands with my thumbs. "Hey, can we go out later? I feel a second date coming on."

"Oh, do you now? What're you planning?" You narrowed your eyes at me, a smile pulling at your lips.

"I dunno, just something small, like...oh, we could go on a walk together. Like, in the evening, through the city and stuff, with the lights and the stars. What d'you think?" I bounced on my heels like a little kid, looking at you hopefully.

You thought for a second. "Hmm. Okay. I was gonna say no, 'cause, like, exercise and stuff, but you made it sound pretty, so hell yeah, let's do it!"

My face grinned all by itself, and I cheered quietly, lifting your hands up and waving them around in celebration. You gave a me a you're-such-a-dork-why-do-I-even-know-you look, but you didn't snatch your hands back.

"Hey, can I have proper kiss now?" you pouted, peeking at me from under your eyelashes.

"So demanding..." I tutted, but pulled you closer to me, grabbing your hips and letting you wrap your arms round my neck, our lips meeting gently. It wasn't too soft or too rough, our tongues lightly meeting and keeping a gentle rhythm. If only we'd been this in time when we were trying to play the music. 

I swear kissing you is like an out-of-body experience, I forget who I am, where I am. For instance, I'd completely forgotten that we were in Andy's house, and that he and Joe had been making their way upstairs while we were making out against the hallway wall. I didn't notice their talking, or the fact that they'd stopped talking.

Until I heard a cough.

I froze, and so did you, your lips stilling and your eyes opening slowly as if you were trying to delay time. We both turned our heads slowly towards the noise, our arms still coiled tightly around each other.

Andy and Joe had stopped dead in the middle of the hall, staring at us blankly. I felt shock jump through me and pushed you away as you sank down from your toes, taking your hands off me and stepping to one side, arms behind your back and your face slowly turning the colour of ripe tomatoes. Ducking your head, you wiped at your slightly swollen mouth and adjusted your hat. 

No-one said anything. 

We all just sorta stared at each other, waiting for someone to do something. My eyes were trained on Joe, bracing myself for a broken nose.

Slowly, Andy turned to Joe, an eyebrow raised and a hand held out. Joe shook his head at us, then dug a hand in his pocket and pulled out a fifty dollar bill, sighing and slapping it into Andy's outstretched palm. Then he marched off to get his coat from the lounge.

Andy laughed, waggling the fifty at us before pocketing it. With a smile and a wink, he headed off after Joe.

Right. Well.

Not even realising I'd been holding my breath, I breathed out, blinking in Andy's direction like he'd just shone a bright light in my face.

"Hey, we're not dead," you laughed faintly.

And that was it. No raised voices, no new scars. We really have changed.

So me and you just pranced out of there, unscathed, and headed home. I don't think either of us could believe our luck.

-

After that, I felt like I could do anything. Hey, Jesus, you might be able to walk on water and all that shit, but can you avoid a black eye off your protective band mates and gain their approval of a relationship which actually literally nearly killed someone multiple times in the past? Ha, didn't think so.

I hadn't even really thought about how Joe would even react, and now I didn't have to. Joe was apparently okay with it, Andy was apparently so okay with it he'd decided to bet on it, I could tell in the way you blushed when I looked at you that you were okay with it, and god knows okay is an understatement when it comes to me. For the first time ever, we can have a relationship without fighting anyone for it.

Anyway, with that out the way, I can write about what I really wanna write about.

-

The date was amazing. Like, it was with you, so obviously it was gonna be amazing, but I couldn't help feeling that it was my idea and I was in charge so it was my responsibility if it went horribly wrong. What if the cars were so loud we couldn't hear each other? What if we got mugged? What if we got stabbed? What if we got mugged then stabbed then run over? 

I needn't have worried, though. It'd been ages since you'd been in Chicago, and I could tell you missed it to death. You bathed in the dazzling lights and walked to the beat of the passing cars, talking and laughing with eyes brighter than the city itself, our arms wound together along with our smiles. I couldn't see the stars that night, but with you beside me, I didn't need to.

We talked about nothing, and everything. Once we'd managed to persuade ourselves that we could be a somewhat good band again, you were off, fantasising about our new record. It only exists in your imagination, but watching your crazy mind work and your hand gestures nearly knock a few people out as we walked, I wanted it to exist in reality. I don't even really remember what you were saying, just how you said it, and how it made me wanna find a way to translate you into words. But I've been trying to do that for eleven years now, and I've never been able to.

At the end of the night, I found myself completely infatuated, reduced to a lumbering idiot with stars in his eyes. It comes in waves, I guess, and this time, my logical brain had decided to abandon me completely. I'm kinda glad it did, though.

I walked you to your door, and we kept talking. I had no idea where all this conversational material was coming from, surely we'd got through everything, surely this is where we'd hit the awkward silences, but apparently not.

Then we started kissing. I dunno, it was just supposed to be a kinda goodbye gesture, but a peck on the cheek turned into a peck on the lips, then my hands on your waist and your fingers in my hair and five minutes later we were still there, clasping at each other like we had nowhere else to be.

In fact, the way your hands pulled at my hair, and stroked at my neck, the way you'd gasp slightly in between kisses, the way you'd sigh when I ran my fingers across your hips, it made my thoughts run wild. And I soon had a rather noticeable, uh, problem.

For a while, I was pretty sure it was well contained within my too-tight jeans, but then it got kinda painful on the zipper and I realised maybe I had to deal with it sooner rather than later.

"Uh...I better go now," I'd slurred through slick lips, pulling away from you and discretely pushing my thankfully long sweater down.

You unwound your hands from me and stepped away, but not before you'd run a palm down my chest which really hadn't helped my downstairs situation. "Okay. Yeah, I'd better be getting to bed too. Tonight was really great," you grinned shyly, pulling the sleeves of your cardigan over your hands. Oh, great, yeah, be cute, make me want you even more, that's just fucking brilliant.

"Yeah, it was. Okay bye!" I pretty much yelled at you, waving and smiling as non-creepily as I could, I turned away. As much as I'd have liked to stare at you a bit more, I had a job to do, in the crudest sense of the phrase.

And for a couple seconds, I thought I'd got away with it. 

Suddenly, you appeared in front of me.

"You could stay, you know," you purred, looking up at me through your fanned lashes and sneaking your teeth over your bottom lip. Oh my fucking god is he suggesting what I think he's suggesting?

"Uh...I...uh..." I lost the sentence in your glittering eyes. "O – okay," I finally managed to stammer, wondering if it would be socially acceptable to throw myself on top of you.

I didn't have to, though. You kissed me again, but this time, it was different. It wasn't hey we're a cute couple let's kiss on the doorstep for a while 'cause we're cute, look at our cuteness, it was slow and full of promise, and it wasn't meant to satisfy me, but to make me hunger for more.

Running both your hands over my chest, you pressed your thigh between my legs, swallowing the moan that leaked from my lips. It took all the self-control I had not to buck my hips into you and embarrass myself even further.

It didn't seem to put you off, though, you just kept doing that thing you do where you make me want you so bad so effortlessly, grazing your fingers across my arms, pushing back against my lips. Tingles sizzled over my skin, and even under my several layers of clothing, your touch was electrifying.

"Do you want to have sex with me?" you asked suddenly, pulling away and looking me straight in the face.

I nearly laughed, it was such dorky way to say it. I'd become used to a suggestive look or a slurred wanna fuck? and I couldn't help but smile at the way you'd been so aggressively clear about it.

You saw my grin and gave me a look of mock hurt, before shrugging, "well, do you?"

My pants pretty much spoke for me in answer to that question. "Yeah. I really do." Even the mention of the word sex had sent heat to the pit of my stomach.

"Okay. Cool," you nodded, beaming at me, your thigh still pressed against my crotch in the most frustrating way. "Do you wanna do it here, or inside?"

I raised an eyebrow, looking around at the corridor stairwell thing we were standing in, your door still hanging open. "Well, the grey walls and used chewing gum in this place are very pretty, but maybe inside would be better?"

You scowled. "I was just asking. Now get the hell in here."

I barely had time to laugh at you before you grabbed my arm and pulled me over the threshold. As soon as you'd shut the door, you pushed me up against it, smashing your lips against mine and gripping my forearms with fervent hunger.

Oh my god. We're gonna fuck. I'm gonna see him naked again, he's gonna see me, I haven't fucked anyone in ages so this is gonna be amazing whatever happens. It was really difficult not to grin against your lips.

We kissed violently and passionately, it was like your mouth was an apple and I hadn't eaten in weeks; I bit at your bottom lip and pulled as hard as I dared, but it must have paid off 'cause you let out a deep, low moan, your hips twitching against mine.

The layers of clothing between us suddenly seemed almost offensive; it might have been cold outside, but it certainly wasn't now, with your breath on my face and your body pressed close to mine. You clawed at my sweater, tugging the hem up to my chest and letting me yank it over my head before reattaching our lips.

Suddenly, your hands weren't gripping my arms anymore, they were dangerously close to my hips, one sneaking under the hem of my t-shirt and the other wandering to my thighs, brushing lightly at the bulge in my pants. My knees buckled slightly, and I felt you smirk against my lips. You knew exactly what you were doing to me, didn't you?

My t-shirt was dumped on the floor along with my sweater, and I was completely exposed to you. And you were gonna take full advantage of that. Before I knew it, your mouth was on me, sucking and biting and sending me into a blissful agony that made my toes curl in my shoes. You licked at my tattoos, tracing them with your tongue and pausing every so often to nibble little marks into my skin, making me whine shamelessly, head dropping back to rest against the door.

I finally decided I couldn't take any more of this pant-wearing lark, and grabbed hold of your hips, pushing you clumsily down the hall in search of somewhere I could throw your body across. You seemed to catch my drift, and we stumbled through your lounge and towards your bedroom in a mess of yearning kisses and tangled limbs.

Nothing else seemed to exist anymore. Everything around us was just there for our own benefit, the soft carpet to entice our feet out of their shoes, the warm air to show us that clothes were completely unnecessary. Soon, all I had on were the things I wanted most to be rid of; my jeans, yet somehow you'd managed to keep hold of everything except your hat. Well, I'm gonna have to put that right immediately.

Pushing you down on the bed, I pulled at your cardigan, letting you wriggle your arms out of the sleeves and toss it away somewhere. Hearing the thunk of your shoes as they were kicked off, I got to work on your shirt, disconnecting our lips so I could see what I was doing. Buttons are fucking hard to undo, though, especially when you're trying to control a raging boner and a racing mind, and I yanked at them fruitlessly. But then, you started to help me, your fingers nimbly prising your shirt open, button by button.

I watched in amazement. In all the times we'd fucked before, you'd never, ever taken off your own shirt. You'd sooner jump into a pit of poisonous snakes than do that. I'd always do it for you, with gentle hands and reassuring glances. But this. The way your eyes shone bright and your hands worked so quick, it was mesmerising. Soon, your shirt was fully off, and my god, are you hot. 

For a moment, I just had to sit back and look at you. It was weird, I guess, seeing you all slim, less pad on your chest and your stomach, your hip bones creeping out from your jeans, shadows of your ribs showing when you breathed in. It was so different to everything I'd been used to, but it didn't matter 'cause it floored me all the same.

"Fuck..."I breathed, sitting on your splayed thighs and running my fingers over your breastbone, feeling you jerk underneath me as I brushed across your nipples, pink and perky and mouthwatering. You blushed a little bit, smiling shyly as I gazed at the beautiful creature laid out just for me.

Giving you a grin bigger than the bulge in my pants, I started to kiss you, down your throat and across your collarbone, pronounced and delicious, flicking my teeth out every so often and hearing you whine wantonly.

"Jeans. Off. Now," you ordered breathlessly, and I didn't need to be told twice; I undid both our pants and yanked them off consecutively, before climbing back on top of you and grinding our hips together in a stream of curses.

Suddenly, you pulled me close to you, wrapping your hands around my neck and kissing me hard. Then, you roughly flipped us over, pushing me into the mattress and bracing your arms either side of me.

"Is this okay?" you asked in between kisses, looking down at me with wide eyes.

It took me a moment to process what you were asking. Wait. He wants to fuck me? You bet your god diggity dang bucket it's okay.

"Yeah, fuck yeah," I breathed, a shiver running through me. I hadn't been fucked by many people before; Mikey had done it a fair bit, but I generally preferred being on top. But right now, you had complete control over me, and I loved it. 

I watched desperately as you hopped off the bed to find lube and condoms – safety first, kids – seeing your ass wobble, the muscles in your legs flex. You were gonna have to hurry the fuck up, 'cause I'd been practically gagging for it for a while now and I didn't know how much longer I could keep it up.

How I managed not to give in to release, I'll never know. The feel of your hands between my thighs, the way you mouthed at me through the fabric of my boxers before yanking them off, your fingers pushing into me and sending shots of pain and adrenaline racing through me, until finally, finally, you were fucking me, letting me adjust to you before slowly rolling your hips, cursing as you did.

And jesus christ, I'd never felt anything like this. In the past, I'd found it uncomfortable, painful being stretched open like that, all sticky and weird and unnatural. But this was different. I don't know what the hell you did, but there was nothing unnatural about it at all, everything seemed hot as fuck, the burn just making it better. 

I gripped your hips tight, digging my fingers into the soft flesh and watching your body move as if it was a firework display, the heat in my stomach building and flowing in my veins, my head spinning. With every thrust, you sent waves of pleasure through me, and I knew I wasn't gonna last much longer. You knew exactly how to do this just right, how to make me buck up into your touch, how to pull long, low whines from my throat, how to drag your lips over my skin and make me sob shamelessly.

I couldn't wait any longer. You must've known that too, because you started to jerk me roughly, thrusting in time with your hand, tipping me over the edge. My god, you know how to fuck. 

 And that was it, the orgasm hit me, hard, taking all the breath from my lungs and leaving me a moaning mess underneath you. You were quick to follow, cursing loudly as you shuddered through your high and I swear I've never seen anything quite as beautiful as that.

You gasped for air, sweat glistening on your skin. I dropped my legs from your waist and let you pull out, falling down onto the bed beside me.

"Well," I panted, poking you in the arm, "that was fun."

You laughed and shoved me back, "You're such an idiot."

"Says Mr. Do you want to have sex with me?" I mocked, putting on a childishly innocent voice.

"Okay, fine," you admitted, "I'm an idiot too."

"We can be idiots together," I giggled, wiping my slick hair from my face.

And so there we were, lying side by side, two happy idiots. I wouldn't have it any other way.

-

After that, we just sorta dozed for ages, or at least I did. I let you potter about, cleaning yourself up and gathering our clothes, making me jump when you suddenly attacked me with a wet towel 'cause I was gross.

When I was all clean, I crawled under the covers, feeling the familiar post-sex ache in my muscles. You emerged from the bathroom and I made grabby hands at you, patting the sheets beside me.

Soon, we were wrapped up in each other, your head against my chest and our legs tangled. I took the opportunity to explore your naked body, to reacquaint myself with it in a way that I hadn't during the fucking, gently and curiously, cupping your butt in my hands, stroking the slight pudge of your stomach, gliding my hands over your thighs. You didn't protest, just snuggled into me further, wrapping your arms tight around my waist and letting me touch you.

I'd forgotten how good it is to just hold you in my arms, how lovely and cuddly you are, how your hair fluffs up when I breathe into it and your lips part when you drift off to sleep. You're really, really beautiful.

I'm back at home now, lying on the sofa on my front with my legs in the air, butterflies still flitting about in my stomach. I can't quite believe I just had sex with you; I can't deny I'd thought about it, you've been the subject of my fantasies for several weeks now, but I didn't think I'd get to see you like that for ages. And you fucked me. I got fucked by Patrick Stump. I'd like that on a t-shirt, please. 

And you looked so comfortable, too. There was no apprehension, no hesitation, more just a fuck it, let's fuck attitude towards the whole thing, you kissed me hard and held me tight and made me feel so fucking good. When exactly did you become a sex god, may I ask?

I've gotta go back to Andy's in a minute. I stayed the night at yours, and woke up in your arms. I would've stayed, we could've gone to practice together, but I really needed a shower and my clothes stank to high heaven so I kissed your sleepy lips goodbye and slipped out of bed. Your blue eyes peeked at me from under the covers, a smile touching them as I stumbled around for pants and shoes, your hand waving me a farewell as I wandered out of your bedroom. It took all my concentration not to fall down the stairs to your flat, I was grinning so hard.

It's stupid, cause I saw so much of you last night, but I can't wait to see you again. You make me so excited, I smile at strangers in the street and laugh too hard at stuff on the TV just to release some of the cloud of happiness in my lungs. 

I better wrap up now, otherwise I'll be late, and if I'm late, I won't be able to tease you for being late, like you always are. Maybe we'll be less crap today, you never know. And hopefully, somebody will have learnt the words to at least one of the songs. There's hope for Fall Out Boy yet. 

Thanks for an amazing night, though. Two dates in, and I'm already head-over-heels. 

I really like you, Patrick. 

From Pete xx