Fandom: Panic! at the Disco, Fall Out Boy
Word Count: 1309
Disclaimer: I do not know these people, this never happened, I am making no money off of anything.
A/N: Following Pete's interview in the Advocate. For duendeoflorien. Betaed by pressdbtwnpages, encouraged by seanarenay. There's one line in here that I feel like I maybe accidentally plagiarized, but I don't remember if that's true or not, so we're going to pretend it's not, okay? Cool.
About a month after he does the interview, Ryan calls, enraged.
"You read the Advocate?" Pete laughs. "I thought you were all about pretending to be straight. You know you're going to have to come up with a really good cover story if someone catches you with that."
"No, I do not read the Advocate," Ryan spits at him. "Patrick told me."
Damn it. Patrick was the only person he'd told – besides the friends he'd mentioned in the interview, but they don't know about Ryan anyway – and he'd thought he made it clear that this was just between them. "I'm going to kill him," he mutters.
"For what? Telling your boyfriend about something he should have known about in the first place? Or –"
"You shouldn't have known about it. It was no big deal. You don't tell me about every interview you do," Pete points out.
"I don't say yes to interviews with gay magazines in which I essentially deny everything about our relationship!" Ryan shouts. Pete's sure Patrick, Joe and Andy can hear him in the other room.
"What do you want me to do, say, 'Actually, I'm bi, and I'm dating this guy Ryan, you may have heard of him, he's in Panic! at the Disco, but he's totally closeted, so keep it on the down low'? Yes, I see your point. That would have worked so well." Sarcasm isn't going to help his case any, but he can't help it. Ryan is being completely ridiculous.
He hears a click, and then Ryan isn't there anymore.
Well, he was right about sarcasm not helping.
Three hours later, he's still pleading into Ryan's voicemail. "Come on, Ryan Ross, call me back. Stop being so fucking stubborn. I'll let you yell at me more if you just fucking call me already."
Ryan is such a drama queen sometimes. Of course, this is still probably the healthiest relationship he's ever been in. Which isn't saying… anything, really.
He tries Ryan again. "This is ridiculous. Call me."
Patrick wanders into the room. "Ryan still mad?"
"I don't know," Pete says, frustrated. "He won't talk to me."
"That's probably a good indication, then."
"This is all your fault, you know."
"If you hadn't told him, I wouldn't be in this mess."
"You have a strange idea of fault, Peter Wentz," Patrick says, poking him in the side accusingly. "Ever think that this is maybe the sort of thing someone dating you should know about?"
"It's just another interview! It doesn't mean anything more than the ones in Spin or whatever entertainment tabloid calls us this week!"
"To you, maybe."
"Whatever," Pete says. "It was still my business. That I told you, because I knew you wouldn't tell the entire world. Except that you went and told the one person I didn't want to see it!" His voice escalates in volume until he is full-on shouting at Patrick. "Ryan's so far in the closet, he's practically in fucking Narnia! I knew this would freak him out. You are such a bastard. I can't believe you just told him like that, after I asked you not to!"
"He deserved to know," Patrick insists firmly.
"You don't get to decide that! He's my boyfriend!"
Patrick says, "Okay, you know what? I'm done arguing with you. Find me when you've calmed down." He walks back out of the room.
Pete punches the wall, which does absolutely nothing but make his hand hurt, but at least it feels therapeutic.
Pete knows it's probably futile, but he keeps calling Ryan, hoping that eventually Ryan will get so sick of screening his calls that he'll just pick up.
About an hour after the fight with Patrick, he gets a text: "you dont seem to have a problem with penises when youre blowing me." And then a minute later, "asshole."
He writes back, "stop texting me form your fuicking sidekick and pick up the pone."
After a minute, another text comes through.
He rolls his eyes and types, "ryanross im sorry ok? now calll me."
A second after he hits send, his phone rings. "Hey," he says.
Pete grins. "Nice to talk to you, too."
"What do you want?"
"You're the one who called me, remember?"
"Because you wouldn't leave me the fuck alone!"
Pete decides to stop playing around and actually talk to Ryan, since this might be his only chance. "I am sorry, dude."
"For what?" Ryan sounds suspicious, but hopeful.
Pete sighs. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the interview, okay? I didn't think it was a big deal, but if anything like it ever happens again, I'll talk it over with you first."
He waits for the subsequent grudging 'all right' that he's sure is coming, but Ryan only says, "That's it?"
"What do you mean, 'that's it?'"
"What about what you said in the interview?"
"What are you talking –" Then he remembers Ryan's first text message. "Oh."
"Ryan, look," Pete says, a little softer, "I wasn't going to tell them about us, okay? I didn't want to start up any more gay rumors. It didn't mean anything."
"Not good enough," Ryan says. "I think you need to make it up to me."
"I can do that."
"Good." Pete can hear the smile in Ryan's voice. He closes the door.
After they've both come, and before they come again, Ryan says, "I hate interviews."
"Comes with the territory," Pete says. "You gotta have fun with it. Play with the interviewer a little. Otherwise, it'll always make you miserable."
"Yeah, I guess," Ryan sighs.
"And you know you don't have to say yes all the time."
"Why did you?"
Pete pauses, not needing to ask what Ryan meant. "It was important," he says finally. "People need to know that you don't have to be gay to care about basic human rights."
"You're not straight, though," Ryan points out.
"But they don't know that. And besides, I could hardly have gotten Patrick to do it in my place." He snorts.
"I think you're really brave," Ryan quietly admits.
He's full of surprises.
Pete is just barely processing that when Ryan says, "I mean, I'd never do that interview in a million years. It's pretty cool of you, I guess."
"Yeah?" Pete asks.
"You're pretty cool yourself, Ryan Ross. Not to mention fucking sexy."
"It's the makeup," Ryan says. "It gets me all the guys."
"Don't worry, though... I only go home with the ones who remind me of you."
"You'd better not be going home with any of them."
Ryan laughs. "Like you don't sleep with anything that moves."
"Only when I'm not with someone."
"I wouldn't really."
They listen to each other breathe over the slightly staticked cell phone reception for a minute. Then Pete says, "Now I'm picturing you with some dude who looks like me."
"It's kind of hot."
"Is it," Ryan says, amused.
"Dude, you're such a fucking cocktease."
"That's not what you were saying ten minutes ago. Sounded more to me like, 'Oh, Ryan! Fuck yes!'"
"My point exactly. Now shut up and talk dirty to me."
Lucky for Pete, Ryan doesn't care that his idea of foreplay is to tell the other person to take their pants off. He complies.
A little while later, Ryan says, "I gotta go. Spencer wanted to have a band meeting and I just missed the first fifteen minutes."
"Go," Pete says. "We're okay?"
Ryan laughs at him. "What do you think?"
Pete grins. "Good," he says. "I'll see you soon. Have a good meeting."
"Bye," Ryan says.
Pete hangs up and stares at the ceiling, pants still around his ankles. He should make Ryan mad more often if this is the outcome.
He starts plotting.