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If asked, later, Patrick could not tell a single soul exactly why he and Andy and Joe, the Way brothers and Ray Toro, and SpencerandRyan are even all together in the same place. The only thing they have in common is Pete, and Pete isn't even here. As a matter of fact, no one knows where Pete is.
"Hey, Andy!" Patrick calls across Joe's living room. He wants to ask Andy to text Pete to ask where he's at, because Patrick's phone died like ten minutes ago, but that doesn't look like it's gonna happen.
See, Andy was sitting in the middle of the couch when SpencerandRyan showed up. Patrick had claimed the armchair that is the furthest away from Joe and Joe's Armchair and Joe's Weed. (The capital letters are necessary, because it is sharpied on the baggie he keeps it in.) The Ways were sharing both the recliner and an illegal bottle of booze that they had procured from parts unknown, and Ray was hovering nervously over them like they'd do something rash if he didn't. So Spencer sat on one side of Andy, and Ryan sat on the other side.
This was fine as everyone made weird small talk, but got not fine very quickly when Ryan reached across the back of the couch with his stupid Tall Guy Arms to play with Spencer's hair, which apparently activates the Must Suck Major Face centers in both dudes.
So Hurley is trying to extricate himself from the SpencerandRyan on the couch, and can obviously not text anyone at the moment. His next thought is Joe, but Joe's Weed, while it has made him assume a rather entertaining position in his chair, has rendered him incapable of fine motor function. The Ways aren't an option for a myriad of reasons. The least of which being that Patrick's a little scared of talking to them, and one of the more major ones being that drunk Gerard's hand is, like, resting absently on Mikey's crotch, and Mikey's just looking down blearily at it, like maybe he's imagining things.
"Toro!" he calls on the last option available. Ray looks up from his phone at the sound of his name, eyes settling on Patrick. "You have Pete's number?"
"Yeah, why?
"Can you text him and ask where he is? My phone died."
"Sure dude." He looks back down at his phone. "Shit!" He drops his phone on the floor like it peed on him. Patrick is confused by this for the entirety of the two seconds it takes him to move his eyes from the bouncing entity that is Ray's hair down to the two brothers whom he's trying to separate.
Mikey has turned so he's on his knees facing Gerard, and Gerard is apparently fascinated by this new thing in front of him. He's hooked both his index fingers onto either side of Mikey's mouth and is stretching it out like it's the greatest thing in the world.
"Gerard, no!" Ray says. He rushes around to the other side of the recliner and hooks Mikey under the armpits, dragging him off his brother. Gerard pouts and looks down at his wet fingers. "This is why we can't take you anywhere," Ray mutters. Mikey starts trying to wriggle free, and Ray tightens his grip. "Seriously."
"Shit!"
Everyone's attention shifts toward the loud thud from the couch. SpencerandRyan even take the time to become Spencer and Ryan and look behind the furniture in concern. Andy, in his quest to be free from the clutches of young love, has opted to shimmy over the back of the couch. "Ow, fuck, my head." Joe starts laughing.
"Hey, get Ray's phone and text Pete," Patrick tells him. He leans back into his seat now that the excitement is over. Joe nearly falls out of his chair he's laughing so hard now. Fucking stoner.
"Fuck you!" Andy calls. He does it anyway, though. He pushes himself across the hardwood floor with his feet and grabs the miraculously undamaged device. "I don't know his password!" he calls through the couch. Then," Oh, I'll just use mine!" He gets his own phone out of his pocket and shoots a quick text to Mr. Pete Wentz, to the tune of where the fuck you at.
Pete's response?
call me
"He says call him!"
"Oh for the love of- would you come out from behind the couch?" Patrick says, standing from his seat just so he can express his frustration through body language.
Ray is working on setting Mikey down next to Spencer, who's moved to the middle seat of the couch now. Mikey is being very uncooperative and only wants to, quote,"climb into [Ray's] hair," because, "it's just so big."Andy stands and makes his way around to the front of the semicircle of seating. He sits on the floor this time and sets his phone on the coffee table. "So should I call him or what?" he asks.
"Hell yeah," Joe says, and that's all the confirmation Andy needs. He puts it on speaker.
"Hey!" Pete says, with inflections that only a truly hammered person can add to a single syllable word. Shouts would be a more apt description, also. Music is coming through the shitty phone speakers along with his voice.
"Where the fuck are you?" Patrick asks
"I'm like, behind the Burger King," Pete says, to the surprise of everyone. "I know right? There like a giant party in the field behind it, you should totally come, Pattycakes."
"Calling me that will only make me want to never speak to you again," Patrick informs him.
"Oh, and Frank's here."
"Do they have alcohol?" Gerard asks seriously, and it's the most coherent words in a row he's spoken. "Or! Do we need to bring alcohol?" Everyone in the room has a fake ID, even if two of them don't need it anymore.
Mikey settles down immediately at the mention of more booze, and Ray takes advantage of the calm to tame his hair again. He also forces Mikey to sit down properly.
"Nah, dude," Pete says. "They have so much beer, dude. So much. Like, they've gotten through. At least nine kegs since I got here. There's just a guy unloading them from a truck. I think it's Jesus. Party Jesus."
"We're going," Gerard decides.
"Oh, and, and," Pete's suddenly excited," Trickypops, Trickydoll, Trick-a-doodle-doo, Pattycake, Pattycake, bake me a cake-Patrick!"
Patrick sighs longsufferingly. "Yes, Pete," he says.
"Patrick, they have girls, right? They're on trampolines. Like for no reason, they're just there. Two of them are making out. It's amazing. You gotta come."
"We're coming," Gerard repeats again. Mikey nods.
"Girls. On trampolines."
"Yes, Pete, we heard."
"Amazing."
-
Ryan calls Brendon. He's asleep, as is his god given right on a Friday afternoon in early July. Ryan then calls Brendon's mom. Because apparently "occasional third in the bedroom" is an appropriate relational status to pass out your parents' numbers.
"Hello, Mrs. Urie," Ryan says, ever the gentleman to religious people who could possibly ruin his best friend's life. "Sorry to bother you, but could you find Brendon and tell him to call me? Sorry, we're just trying to make plans to go see a movie, and he's not answering. Thank you, ma'am."
"You're so proper," Spencer teases.
"Oh fuck off, you know how touchy they are." Ryan shoves his boyfriend.
"I'm touchier," Spencer says, running a hand up Ryan's thigh.
"Not in my house!" Joe protests. He then immediately starts giggling, so it's hard to take him seriously. He actually does fall off of his chair this time.
"Oh my god, pull yourself together," Patrick says, laughing. He goes over to haul his friend off of the floor.
Brendon calls Ryan's phone. "What do you want?" he says as soon as Ryan picks it up. His voice is still croaking from sleep. It's adorable.
"Aw, Bren, why you gotta be like that?"
Brendon rubs one eye and sits up more in bed. "You either want my access to a vehicle or my ass, otherwise you would've waited until I woke up on my own."
"You know me so well," Ryan says, fake touched. "Can you get your mom's van?"
Brendon is silent for a moment. "Why?" he asks finally, concerned.
"I'm planning a giant queer orgy, and I some of them need a carpool."
"Okay, but that's actually legitimately a possibility with you, though," Brendon says. "I'm too tired for this shit."
"Listen, we just need a ride to Burger King."
"Seriously?"
"I'll suck you off, like, twice." Ryan's blowjobs are, in fact, a thing of legend. That's why he withholds them at all costs.
Brendon sighs. "Where are you?"
"Joe Trohman's house. Door's unlocked, just come in."
"Okay. I'll see if Mom'll let me use the van."
"I told her we were going to a movie," Ryan says. If they're gonna lie to Brendon's mom, they should at least coordinate it.
"Which one?"
"Didn't say. Do your research."
"Did you know you're a fucking asshole?" Brendon asks.
"Aw, Bren-bren, I love you too." Ryan hangs up before Brendon can answer. "He's gotta check with his mom to see if he can get the van," he announces to the room.
Spencer and Gerard are the only ones listening. Mikey has gotten distracted again and is convinced that he can climb inside Ray's shirt with him. Patrick is trying to stop Joe from offering the Ways any of Joe's Weed.
Ryan's phone chimes. "Brendon's on his way," he says after he checks it. "Should be here in like five minutes."
Joe's still on the floor, but he's really friendly when he's high. His main goal becomes to make everyone else high, too, because he loves everyone, and they all deserve to be happy. He's happy.
"Are you happy?" Joe asks Patrick. Patrick is a good little dude. Patrick should be happy.
"Yes, Joe," Patrick says. "I'd be even happier if you got off the floor and put your shoes on, though."
"Nah."
"Joe, you need to put shoes on," Patrick says. Joe makes an argumentative noise and waves his hand. "Shoes," he repeats. Then he leaves the living room to find Joe's shoes, because that's the only way he's going to get them on.
He returns with a shoe in each hand a moment later. He sits on the floor and goes about trying to put them on Joe's feet. It's like getting rainboots on a toddler.
In the next thirty seconds, a truly spectacular series of events happens. Mikey, in a feat of drunken dexterity and agility, manages to get around Ray and crawl into Gerard lap and start kissing him. Ray grabs Mikey around the waist and tries to pull him off of Gerard. Gerard, inversely, grabs Mikey around the waist and tries to pull him closer.
"Mikey, no!" Ray shouts. All eyes now turn to the brothers.
Joe, taking advantage of Patrick's distraction, violently kicks both of his shoes off of his feet. Brendon walks into the living room and gets hit directly in the face by one of them.
"What the fuck?" he says, looking for the source of the projectile. "What the fuck?" he says, with more feeling this time as he sees the Way brothers making out in Joe's recliner.
"They do this sometimes when they get really smashed," Ray says. He finally pries Mikey off of Gerard. "Here, take him." He pushes the younger toward Ryan and Spencer. Ryan, always up for weird shit, grabs him and holds him in his lap like a squirming child.
"Okay, so you were serious about the queer orgy?" Brendon asks. He hands Joe's shoe back to Patrick when he motions for it.
"Nah," Ryan answers. "No. Stop that. Stay still," he tells Mikey. Mikey, miraculously, listens and stills his wriggling.
"Holy shit," Ray says. "Can you teach me how to do that?"
"Probably not," Spencer answers for him. "I've been trying to learn for years. It's really useful."
"Hell yeah it is," Ryan agrees. "Watch this; Brendon! Knees."
Brendon, simultaneously against his own will and habitually, falls to his knees on the floor. He's saying, "Fuck you," before his legs even hit the hardwood.
"You're a god," Patrick says. He's straddling Joe's thighs now, shoving shoes on his feet.
"Hey, I know you told me to wait in the car, but I got bor-what the fuck! You said this wasn't a sex thing!" Jon shouts. "This is totally a sex thing!"
"It's not a sex thing!" Brendon protests.
"I promised you blowjobs to get you here," Ryan reminds him.
"Then why is he the one on the floor??"
"Shut up, Jon," Brendon says.
"Dude, you're at dick sucking height, like, please stand up. "
"Fine, bitch." Brendon stands up and motions with his arms. "Happy now?" Jon shrugs.
"Hell yes!" Patrick shouts, victorious. Joe has two shoes on his feet, they're on the correct feet, and they're tied. "Fuck yes!"
"Can we guys, go? Go. guys. Car." Gerard gets progressively more confused as he talks. The gist of his message gets through, though.
-
They make it to the van, some of them more autonomously than others, Gerard holding the liquor bottle he'd reclaimed from the floor before leaving. Mikey and Gerard have to be separated. Ryan and Spencer take Mikey in the backseat so that Ryan can control him.
Brendon pauses as Jon, Gerard, and Ray climb into the middle seats. "There aren't enough seats," he says. "This van only fits eight."
"I'm goin' in the trunk!" Joe shouts, throwing his hands in the air in celebration. "Patrick! Trunk! Patrunk!" He grabs his friend's wrist and pulls him to the back of the car.
"I'm not sure that's," Brendon trails off as Joe opens the back hatch. He joyously hops into the trench that is a minivan's back end, pulling Patrick after him. "Okay," Brendon says, quietly. He obviously has no control right now.
Andy has quietly claimed shotgun, and is buckling his seatbelt as Brendon climbs into the car. "Seatbelts!" Brendon calls to the rest of the car.
There's shuffling around and swearing at each other to move their asses off the buckles. Ryan has to Buckley Mikey in. "Are we exempt?" Patrick asks, head popping over the backseat between Spencer's and Mikey's.
"Uh," Brendon pauses for a moment. He leans to the side and looks into the back. "Yeah, I guess," he calls. Patrick leans forward and shoves a thumbs up across the seats to near Gerard's head so Brendon can see it.
Brendon pulls out of Joe's driveway and starts out of the neighborhood. He lives a few streets away from a large, busy road. They have to make a left turn at a stoplight on to that road and drive about five minutes to get to the Burger King.
"So, why did you wake me up to drive you all to Burger King?" Brendon asks as they near the stoplight. "Oh fuck yes," he says, quieter, when the turn arrow turns green right before he gets there.
"Shut up," Gerard says," just drive." Mikey nods his approval from the backseat, unseen by his brother. Ray kicks Gerard in the shin. "Ow! Fucker." He uncaps his bottle and downs the last of it. When Ray raises an eyebrow he answers," to numb the pain."
Ray rolls his eyes. "We were looking for Pete," he tells Brendon. "Well, Patrick was looking for Pete. He says there's this massive party behind the Burger King. Like tons of kegs and shit—"
"And girls on trampolines!" Joe's head appears between Mikey and Spencer. He leans forward, using Patrick as a stool (much to Patrick's distress), until his head is in the middle seats, hands braced on Mikey's knee and the back of the seat. "He was really excited about the girls on trampolines."
"Why?" Brendon asks. The whole van goes silent. Brendon turns his head to quickly glance in the back. "What?" he asks.
"Dude!" Andy says. "Even I know why that's awesome!"
"And he's ace!" Joe calls from next to Gerard's head.
"Thank you, Joe," Andy says longsufferingly.
"I don't get it," Brendon says again, looking back in confusion.
"Eyes on the road!" Andy shouts, twisting the wheel back toward their lane. "We're going fifty miles an hour, fucker."
"Sorry," Brendon says, pointedly turning back toward the windshield. "But seriously, what the fuck?" He cuts his eyes to Andy.
"It's like," Andy starts to say, then thinks better of it. "Joe! You wanna take this one?"
"Nah man," Joe says.
Ryan's head appears on the other side of Gerard. "Aw, baby Brendon, I forgot." He smiles, like an asshole, because Ryan's kind of an asshole. "You're the only gay boy here, aren't you? Aw, so cute."
"Shut up, Ryan," Brendon says, turning to glare at him. Ryan raises his eyebrows and motions toward the windshield with his hand. Brendon quickly turns around to watch the road.
"See, you wouldn't know this, being a cocksucker and all," Ryan starts," but, you see, boobs are great. Mikey, stop that." He turns and slaps Mikey's had away from where it was rubbing his inner thigh.
"Anyway, Bren. I'll tell you the logic behind it; I don't know if your little gay brain will comprehend, but it's the least I can do." Ryan proceeds to explain, in graphic detail, the science behind breasts + bouncing = hot, much to Gerard's chagrin.
He has drunk a lot today, like, a lot. There was the bottle he and Mikey had shared, yeah, but there had been a lot more before that. He woke up hungover and threw up this morning, and he decided the best remedy to that was to just get drunk again, because he was starting to remember why he'd started drinking the day before.
So Gerard is just vaguely nauseous. That comes with the territory, but they're also in a car. He can handle riding in a car; he doesn't get motion sick, so it's not too bad. However, being drunk, nauseous, in a moving vehicle, and listening to someone describe bouncing around on a trampoline is just enough to push him over the edge.
He turns to tell whoever's next to him that he's going to throw up and that he needs a bag or to stop by the side of the road, but he doesn't get that far. As soon as he opens his mouth he pukes, all over the poor soul next to him.
"Dude! What the fuck!" Jon shouts as the older Way brother vomits on his lap.
Andy's and Brendon's heads snaps to the back seat at the noise. "Shit!" Brendon shouts. His hands leave the wheel as he jerks toward the backseat instinctively. "Fuck, no! My mom's gonna—"
The car goes careening off the road, across four lanes of traffric, while no one's looking. "TREE!" Andy shouts. He reaches over and jerks the wheel, trying to avoid it, but fails.
Andy and Brendon get an airbag to the face each. Joe goes face first into the front seat, kicking three people in the head in the process, and Ryan rocks forward as well, clacking heads with Jon. Everyone in the car is screaming. The windshield and front windows shatter, showering them in glass.
As soon as the airbag has deflated enough for him to speak, Brendon positively screeches, "George. Ryan. ROSS." He turns to glare into the backseat, pausing to make sure that Joe's still alive. Andy shakes his shoulder, and he gives a shaky thumbs up.
Ryan looks up at Brendon, one hand on his head where he collided skulls with Jon. He looks sheepish and offers an apologetic smile. "Um—"
"Don't. Say. Anything," Brendon hisses. "I will murder you. I will slit your fucking throat with this five inch shard of glass that is lying on my mother's dashboard because you needed a ride to a party. I will chop your fucking dick off, and you'll have to piss in a bag for the rest of your goddamn life, you fucking asshole."
"Whoa there, Bren, let's not—"
"Don't call me that!" Brendon interjects. "We're not fucking right now; you don't get to 'Bren-bren' me, you fucker." Ryan slinks back from the onslaught of angry Urie.
"Uh, I'm alive if anybody cares," Patrick calls hesitantly from the trunk. A chorus of the others agreeing that they are, in fact, still alive follows. Gerard's isn't so much words as a terribly pained groan.
-
They all collectively agree to walk to the Burger King. The only reason Brendon agrees is because he wants to put off calling his mother for as long as possible. Mikey can't really stand upright by himself, using Ray as support, and Gerard has to stop every minute and a half to throw up again.
"I'm disgusting," Jon complains as they walk. "Can stomach acid burn skin?"
"Shut the fuck up, Jon," Ryan snaps. He's still upset that Brendon's not talking to him. Spencer has a comforting arm around his waist as they walk.
The grass is discolored, and the air smells acrid from all the exhaust in the air. Mikey's lungs protest both the exercise and the air quality. Patrick is sweating through his shirt, and Joe is swearing about how he lost Joe's Weed in the crash.
Finally, blessedly, the glorious yellow and red sign is visible in the distance, fast approaching.
They can hear indistinguishable music as they get closer, and when they round the building they see it. A vast expanse of shirtless guys and nearly shirtless girls; tables of unidentified beverages; an above ground pool; and, yes, girls on trampolines looms before them.
There's a dude with a hose refilling the water that 's being splashed out of the pool, and Jon thanks the universe as he heads toward him, intent on rinsing the bile off of himself and his clothing. Gerard follows him for similar purposes. Ray is trying to get Mikey breathing regularly again.
RyanandSpencer are cautiously trying to get Brendon to talk to them. Brendon is silently ignoring them and marching toward the table. Joe drags Andy toward the pool, shouting gibberish about mermaids.
Patrick looks around for Pete, the asshole. He takes his hat off, self-consciousness overshadowed by how fucking hot it is. He fans himself with his hat as he walks through the crowds of people looking for his fuckwad of a best friend.
Pete finds him first. "Trickydoll!" Pete shouts after tapping Patrick on the shoulder. He drapes himself over Patrick's chest and presses a gross, wet kiss to his cheek. "Good, you're here. Here! Drink this." He shoves a cup into Patrick's had.
"You're an asshole," the blond says. Then he downs the drink, whatever it is, because he's just had that kind of day.