crack_van | Hand In Unlovable Hand by leviticus

Fandom: BANDOM
Pairing: Pete/Patrick, declining Pete/Ashlee marriage
Length: about 2800 words
Author on LJ:

leviticus_lied
Author Website: n/a
Why this must be read:
This is a beautifully written, angsty (but not too angsty) fic. One of my favorites.

It starts like this:

"You need a vacation, Pete," Patrick sighs. He’s echoing and loud through the speakerphone of Pete’s Sidekick, which, hey,

"Why haven’t I ever rhymed you with ‘sidekick’?" Pete yawns back.

There’s a little pause and Patrick shoots mindwaves at Pete: You tried and I didn’t let it into the songs, because, seriously. What he actually says is, "What are you doing?"

Pete swallows the last of his lukewarm caramel macchiato and it takes a while because his throat is tense and sore. "What? You want, like, a list?"

"With bullet points."

Pete glances around the wreckage of his desk and the undulating visual interpretation of the demo he’s checking through and can’t find a place to start. Instead, he asks, "You think Gerard would draw me an undulating visual interpretation of one of our things?"

"Pete. Take me off speakerphone."

Pete does, and holds the phone between his cheek and his shoulder. Maybe he can talk to Gerard about one of the acoustic versions Patrick does when he’s warming up or in radio station interviews. With lots of undulating.

"Pete - seriously. Is it more than two things at a time?"

"Does talking count?"

"No."

"Then, yes." Because of the contract he’s drafting.

"More than three?" but Pete’s learned better, "four? five? Stop me when I get there."

"I’m fine." In some corner of his head, Pete’s trying to find a verse to fit around I’m not fine but ask me again last night.

Patrick repeats seriously, "Vacation."

"I’m on vacation," Pete points out. "From touring and shit. And band stuff in general."

"Actual relaxation," Patrick insists, and Pete might take him up on it if he’ll sing something for Pete to fall asleep to tonight or something.

Tina-the-hot-and-brutal-PA stalks in on über-vicious stilettos. She looks pissed and bitchy and obscenely capable, which Pete doesn’t deserve. She smoothes her hair and straightens her suitjacket and snaps, "Tell your wife I’ve cleared your schedule for a week."

Pete blinks and parrots, "Tina cleared my schedule."

Patrick laughs, sort of mean and sharp, like glass. "Ashlee called in? Great. I asked her to pack for you, too."

Absentmindedly, Pete finds his cheap, free, stolen-from-the-bank clicky pen and writes on the inside of his wrist, choke on glass.

Tina taps her shoe and Pete can hear the souls of the innocent crunch beneath it. "Your flight leaves at three. I called a cab. Go downstairs." She does that all the time, short declarative sentences that leave no room for argument.

"Uh," Pete says, and Patrick laughs more cleanly.

"Have fun, Pete."

Pete says, "I, uh. Yeah. Thanks. Love you."

Tina turns away. "Ashlee really cares about you, huh?"

"God knows why," Pete agrees, and that’s the last thing he says for a while.

Hand In Unlovable Hand

Hand In Unlovable Hand by leviticus_lied (PG)

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