(Pete's POV)

We weren't together. We were simply two bros who were hanging out. A lot. Getting lunch or dinner... Sometimes breakfast. Depending on how dinner went. Yeah, just two bros. More than occasionally making out and fucking the shit out of each other. Just two bros. Because Patrick is afraid of a title. He thinks it'll put us back in the same situation. So we're taking the relationship title slowly. Complete bullshit. But if it makes Patrick happy, I'll do it.

Because I did mess up. I'd gotten MJ pregnant while we were dating and now she was due in just a few months. Megan understood our relationship. Sleeping with her was a mistake but our kid wasn't. I would never refer to a child as a mistake. Not matter how 'aren't alright' Patrick thinks they are.

Of course Joe and Andy were the only ones who knew about Patrick and I. Even though we'd never come right out and admitted it to them. We'd even kissed in front of them. We didn't even admit to being together before Megan got pregnant. That was just our business. And Joe and Andy were good with pretending not to know. They always were.

"How are you feeling now?" Patrick asked from beside me on the couch.

"I have all the same symptoms. Except now I feel all drugged up."

"Hey" he stood up from the couch. "You were the one who asked for cold medicine." I didn't follow him into the kitchen. He was just going to get a drink anyway. Like always. Confirming my assumptions, he reentered the room with a glass of dark liquid.

I'd had a cold for approximately 20 hours now. My nose was stuffed and running. My throat was dry and almost sore. My eyes watered like I was watching The Notebook. And now my head was cloudy because my make shift doctor, Mr. Stump, overdosed me on the cough medicine. Hopefully it'd be a 24 hour bug. But I was still happy to be spending an entire day alone with him. No managers, no producers, no studio, no other guys. Just Patrick and I.

"Can I have a kiss?" I leaned in close when he finally sat back down.

"No." He moved away. "You're sick."

"Just a little cold." I leaned even closer.

"No. Pete, stop!" He laughed pushing me off of him with his free hand. "I need my voice. You don't!"

"On the cheek then?" I batted my eye lashes.

"The cheek?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Yeah..."

"I don't trust you." He laughed, finishing off his cup and sitting it on the floor beside the couch.

"Scout's honor!" I held up my right hand.

"You were never a scout."

"You got me." I tapped my chin. Pretending to think. "You kiss my cheek then."

"I don't-"

"Unless you're afraid you won't be able to keep your lips in one place." I teased.

"Oh please." He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll kiss your cheek.

"Thank you."

I turned my face to the side and waited for him to purse his lips and come closer. His eyes closed. And when there was only half an inch between us, I turned to that my face was facing his. His lips brushed against mine and I did a victory dance in my head.

I'd expected him to realize what I did and push me away laughing. But that's not what happened. Instead, as soon as Patrick's lips touched mine, his hand latched onto the back of my head and pushed our faces closer. I groaned at the contact. He pushed me back on the couch so that he was hovering over me. My legs opened wider to make it easier for him to position himself between them. I don't know how long we stayed like that. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. But we did eventually have to pull away for air.

"Shit." Patrick whispered into my face. "I love you, Pete." His breaths were coming harsh and fast. I know mine was the same. "That mouth. I've had dreams about that mouth." I blushed. "I wish every dream could be about it." And suddenly he wasn't hovering over me. I sat up quick enough to see his back disappearing into the kitchen. And again, he came out with a full glass.

"Pretty early in the morning for that to be your third glass, don't you think?" I tried to say it lightly. No one likes hearing they have a problem.

"Nope." He took a sip and smiled.

"So," I tried to think of a change of subject. "You dream about my mouth?"

He smirked. "I dream about your whole body. From top." He glanced at my hair. "To bottom" he looked at my socks. "But especially your bottom." He sipped.

"Oh?" I wiggled my eyebrows and tried to fight off the blush.

"Every time I began drifting off, I make sure I think nasty, nasty thoughts of you. And hope it continues on into my dreams."

I did blush then. "You're insatiable." He winked. "Have you been dreaming about me for long?" He nodded, sipping. "Even when you were mad at me?" A slower nod.
"While we were on tour?"

"It was hard not to on tour. You slept a few feet a way from me." He finished off the glass. "And you know I always left the stage tired so you were the last thing I saw before the lights when out."

"As soon as the bus lights went out, you went to sleep?" I laughed. He nodded. "I love you too." I blurted out. I'd meant to say it when he did, but I froze.

"I know." He smiled sheepishly, standing up again and stretching. "I'm going to get another-"

"Patrick!" A female voice called from the door. Patrick froze with wide eyes, his glass falling from his hands. Thank goodness he had carpet. "Patrick, babe? I'm home."

My eyes darted to the door then. Just as it was opening. I felt my stomach drop to my knees. Well, not literally because that would hurt... Probably almost as much as this did. Because there, in the doorway, holding suitcases and smiling uncontrollably, was Patrick's wife. The one and Only Elisa Yao- Elisa Stump, I mean. The woman who he'd told the band he was separated from. The woman who supposedly was going to get served divorce papers. The woman who he'd claimed was crazy and fame hungry. The woman he claimed he hasn't seen in almost a year. The woman who was very noticeably Pregnant.

"Elisa!" Patrick seemed to snap out of his stupor as he rushed to the door to take her bags. "What are you doing here? You're not due back for another two months!"

"I know, I know." She laughed. "But my dad took a spill and ended up having to go to the hospital. I didn't want to burden them with my condition." She walked past him and finally noticed me sitting on the couch. I stood. "Hey, Pete!" She walked over to me with open arms and I held up a hand to stop her.

"I have a terrible cold. Wouldn't want you to catch it." I lied. I'd love for her to get sick. I'd just hate for her to touch me.

"Oh, that's okay." She grabbed me into a tight hug. Well, as tight as she could manage considering her huge baby bump. I stiffened, Patrick noticed. "How are you? How's Megan?" She giggled happily. "I saw her pictures on Instagram. I'm larger than she is and she's a month and a half a head."

"A month and a half?" I said dully.

"I look more, don't I?" She gushed. "After all that trying we finally made it! I'll admit, I was a little jealous when you and MJ beat us to it-" My nostrils flared violently.

"Beautiful, why don't you go lay down. You must be jet lagged." Patrick interrupted.

"Oh I am!" She moved away from me and I breathed again. "It was nice seeing you, Pete. I'll see you when I wake up, honey." She headed towards the room. To the bed Patrick and I fucked in a few hours ago.

We stood there in the most tense of silences. My eyes would probably pop out of my head considering how hard I was glaring. And Patrick's face stood expressionless. Like he didn't know what to feel. That back stabbing, hypothetical little bitch. I walked to the door, where he was standing, and began putting on my sneakers.

"Pete-"

"Oh fuck you." I said calmly.

"You have no right to be mad."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"Keep your voice down!" He kicked the front door closed.

"Oh, go fuck a duck!" I said even louder. "For months. Months! You've been giving me shit about Megan. Hating me and her because she's pregnant. You even went as far as making the fucking chorus of our song abut how not alright my fucking kids are." Elisa would have had to be in a coma not to hear my yelling. "Well you know what, Patrick? Your fucking kid isn't alright!"

"Fuck you, Pete. Megan got pregnant way before Elisa. We were over when that happened."

"But you've been trying for so long!" I mocked his wife's voice.

"She was just saying that!"

"Because it was true! You badgered me about full honesty-"

"I am fully honest!"

"Yeah, you just pour a bunch of it down the drain when you feel like it!" I yelled.

"You're crazy!" He threw his hands in the air.

"Oh, I get called crazy and she gets called beautiful?!" I laughed hysterically. Maybe I was crazy. "She must be a better fuck."

"Watch your fucking mouth, man." Patrick warned.

"Fuck you. Fuck her. Fuck the baby! Because you're done fucking me." I screamed at the top of my lungs.

Patrick slammed my back against the door. It knocked the air right out of me. His hands mildly tight around my neck. "Keep your fucking voice down or I'll-"

"You'll what? Kill me?" I laughed as best as I could. "Elisa's a Christian girl isn't she? Why don't we let God settle this one?"

"You are the worst thing that's ever happened to me." He tightened his grip before pushing away from me.

"And what's the best? Your unborn baby? Your wife laying in that room on the blankets we fucked on?" His eyes narrowed. "Did she pick out the blanket? Does her body know the thread count as well as mine?"

"Pete-" his voice wasn't as angry as it had been. But it wasn't soft either.

"Fuck you!" I screamed again. Hoping it alerted the neighbors. I stomped into my shoes and swung the door open. "Don't dream about me tonight, asshole!"

**** **** **** **** **** ****

(Joe's POV)

We were meeting at my house today because apparently Pete wasn't "going to step foot in that hell hole again." That hell hole being Patrick's house. I don't know what happened, but it seemed worse now than any other time. Even when Megan found out she was expecting. Andy's theory was she was having twins. So that made for twice the anger. I wasn't so sure. If it were all MJ, why would Pete be so pissed at Patrick.

They were refusing to talk to each other. And when they did finally address each other's presence, it ended in screaming, name calling and Andy and I holding them back from murdering each other. So one could understand why I wasn't trilled today's session was in my place. My wife and child were away at her parents' for a week. So at least I didn't have to worry about them being disturbed.

"Hey Joe!" Andy was the first to come in followed by a very tense looking Patrick. He wasn't wearing his hat so maybe that's why.

"Joe." Patrick nodded in greeting.

"Hey guys."

Pete came in thirty minutes later. We'd already been brain storming. Not really getting any solid ideas though. Andy wanted to make a sort of summer song. Or at least a song about summer time. It was his favorite season.

"Sorry I'm late." He walked in looking disheveled.

"Busy tending to your mother and child?" So Patrick was going to be the one to start today. Great.

Pete gave him a really dude look before snorting. "No. I was fucking my fiance."

"Fiance?" We all said together.

"Yup." He looked at Patrick and smiled.

"Bullshit." Patrick grumbled.

"You should find out on Twitter soon." Ow, both Andy and I winced. That was low. "I have a song."

"A whole song?" I asked. He nodded quickly. "Let's hear it." Music always seemed to calm these guys down. Maybe it'd work again. And they could get over this whole argument. Pete dug in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He unfolded it and began singing.

"She's an American Beauty. I'm an American Psycho. She's an American beauty. I'm an American. I'm an American. American psycho."

"That's ridiculous!" Patrick muttered. "He's just saying the same stuff over and over."

"Let him finish, Pat." Andy said.

"And he's being an ass-"

"Patrick." I interrupted.

"I think I-I fell in love again. Maybe I just took too much cough medicine. I'm the best, worst thing that hasn't happened to you yet. The best worst thing. Oh!" Patrick scoffed at Pete's words. "You take the full full truth and you pour some out. The full full truth and you pour some out. And you can kill me kill me or let God sort em out. Kill me kill me or- oh!"

The way Pete was emphasizing the words, showed they had a different meaning to him and Patrick. But the song was good. A dark meaning but Pete was singing it in an upbeat tone. This was definitely going to be on the album. He started on the chorus again with Andy and I singing along. It was simple and easy to remember. Another plus.

"I wish I dreamt in the shape of your mouth. But it's your thread count I really care about. Stay up til the lights go out. Stay up, stay up! You take the full full truth but you pour some out. And as we're drifting off to sleep, all those dirty thoughts of me. They were never yours to keep."

Patrick had been tapping his foot impatiently throughout the whole song with his arms crossed. Shaking his head slightly at some parts. Yeah, this was defiantly a song directed at him. I just didn't understand what it meant.

"Altered boys. Altered boys. We're the thing that love destroyed."

"I am an American. I'm an American!" Andy called out in the middle. And it sounded great.

"You. Me. Us. Them. We're just resurrected men."

"I'm an American. I'm an American."

"Us, we we're only there to make you live again."

"I'm am American. I'm an American."

"Us. We were pity sex. Nothing more and nothing less. She's an americ-"

"This song is such bullshit!" Patrick yelled.

"Fuck you!" Pete shot back.

"I like it." Andy high fived Pete.

"Me too." I admitted.

"Then it's on the album." Pete grinned.

"I'm not singing it!" Patrick yelled.

"Yes you are." Pete walked over to him and smacked the paper to his chest. Causing Patrick to exhale sharply. "So learn it."

A/N:
This was kinda of long. Sorry not sorry. Also, I'm gonna hurry and finish this story. I have most of the chapters written already. Finally, did you guys see the Uma Thurman video? On a scale of obsessed to obsessed, how obsessed are you?! I'm OBSESSED. How can anyone not love them?! Thnks fr rdng!