Category Linkin Park

Xo by Penelope_Ink & lpfan503

Thursday Night with the Boys

A/N: Well, we know you guys want us to update our other stories, and we will. We promise we're working on those too. But they're all really heavy, and this crossover idea happened because Penelope helped lpfan discover Pete Wentz, and he's been fucking with her head. So... this happened. We can't help it. It's like, a sickness or something. We happen to love and adore Fall Out Boy, and might have a slight obsession with Peterick the way we do with Bennoda. We hope you enjoy, this has been amazingly fun to write. Oh, and the title is from the FOB song of the same title. One more thing- we aren't gonna tell you who is writing who until we're finished, because wondering is good for you.

Here's a pic of our stars....Mike, Chaz, Pete and Patrick (since not everyone is into FOB, we figured this might help) and a little Brad in the background.


Mike raised the beer to his lips as he watched his boyfriend lean over the pool table, raising an eyebrow at one of his favorite views in the world. He smirked around the bottle, his eyes calculating just how much Chester would miss the shot he was lining up to take before they drifted back down to his denim clad ass. It was a good try, but he knew the cue was going to hit the green striped ball at the wrong angle, miss the pocket, and lead to a string of good natured curse words. All part of a typical pool game on a Thursday night.

“You’re off about an inch,” he commented, his voice teasing, knowing how much his boyfriend hated his play by play analysis. “No way that’s going in.”

Chester, with his eyes fixed and his hands steadily pulling his pool stick back and forth as he got ready to take his shot, stopped long enough to say, “You’re just trying to distract me. So not going to work.” He rolled the ball of his barbell tongue piercing across his lips before he pulled back and SMACK! he hit the cue, and watched as it hit his chosen target, but instead of it going into the pocket, it banked off the side. “Dammit,” Chester hissed as he stood up straight, glaring at the table. “Dammit, dammit, dammit! That was so your fault,” he accused as he twisted around to give his boyfriend the glare he’d just punished the table with. “You and your math and however you figure this shit out. Dammit, Mike,” he said with a playful twist to his tone. “I’m starting to think you’re bad luck.”

He headed over to the tall table in the corner where his beer was sitting, and he let out a sigh as he picked it up and sat down, waiting for his next turn. He took a quick sip, looking out over the bar, and the line of five pool tables all in a row. Each one was covered in red felt. The two tables beside them were empty, but two guys were playing on the third one down and a group of girls was playing on the table on the other side of them. All in all, pretty typical for a Thursday night. The music overhead was something from the 80s and Chester half hummed along as he watched Brad gripe about being behind as he headed for the cue ball.

Mike leaned over and kissed Chester’s cheek when he sat down. “I’m not bad luck, you’re just too stubborn to let me teach you how to play better. You’re right, it’s all math.” He winked at his boyfriend’s disgruntled look before his tipped the green glass bottle toward Brad. “Delson, looks like Chaz didn’t bother to leave you a decent shot! Good luck, man!”

The curly headed man tossed an annoyed look toward the table where his friends were sitting as he walked a slow circle, first one direction, then back the other, around the pool table. “Next game I want to go after Mike,” he whined, cocking his eyebrow at the lack of available shots. “Going after Chester sucks. He never leaves the cue ball in a good place.”

“Hey,” Chester cried from his seat as he watched Brad inspect the table, “the point is for me to win. Not to leave you with good shots.” He chuckled a little as Brad discretely flipped him the bird. “So Brad, how’s work?” Chester asked, knowing that the other man had a hard time talking and taking a good shot. “Did you have any cool meetings with famous rock stars this week at Big Bad Warner Brothers?”

Brad shook off the question as he lined up his shot. “I, uh… yeah, meetings. Famous. Pictures?” He didn’t even string together a coherent sentence before he took the shot, once again missing the pocket. “Fuck! Stop distracting me while I’m trying to play!” He forcefully hit the end of his pool cue into the floor, his expression completely frustrated, causing both Mike and Chester to look at each other and laugh.

“So, you were saying… pictures?” Mike asked as he slid by Brad, his beer still in his hand.

“Yeah, promo stuff for your guys,” Brad huffed as he took Mike’s recently abandoned seat. “The next big band to take the stage!” he said theatrically. “Signed and discovered by the Mike Shinoda himself!”

“Thanks for the help,” Mike said sweetly as he balanced the bottle on the edge of the table, giving the room a quick glance as he did so. He knew he wasn’t supposed to put the beer on the edge of the table, on the off chance it would get knocked over, but he wasn’t clumsy. “And I didn’t sign or discover them. I’m just their rep. You’re so dramatic, Delson.” He knew what he was doing, and it didn’t take him long, even with the sassy banter. One of his favorite parts of playing pool with Brad and Chester was showing how nonchalantly he could sink a shot without looking like he was over analyzing things. Truth was, he’d been planning his shot since his last one.

“Here’s how it’s done,” he mumbled, leaning to take his shot. It was a complicated one. He needed to get around one of Chester’s balls in order to hit his shot, banking the cue off the edge before it smacked the targeted ball right into the pocket. He smiled in satisfaction and glanced at his boyfriend. “See? Just math and angles.”

“Whatever,” Chester muttered, tossing his boyfriend a smirk. “You just like to show off.” He watched as Mike made a face back at him before he rounded the table to take his next turn. “He’s too good,” Chester said with a sigh, directing his words to Brad. “I should dump him for someone who sucks as badly as I do. Hey. . .what are you doing for the next few years?” he asked batting his eyes playfully as he leaned his elbows on the table and made a kissing sound at his friend.

Brad shoved a hand into his curls before he grimaced. “You two are a mess. How many times have I had to tell you I’m not interested in your games? Mike would kick my ass, and anyway, not interested,” he fussed, his cheeks turning pink. “I’ve got a date this weekend, by the way. With a woman. So you’re on your own with Mr. Geometry over there.” He picked up his drink and took a long gulp, rolling his eyes at Chester.

“Jesus, Brad, you’re so boring,” Chester scoffed as he sipped his beer, his eyes drifting to the front half of the bar, where there were dozens of tables and people sitting at them. He was starting to feel the need for something stronger than a beer, but decided against it as he heard Mike cheer in another victory. Getting more drunk isn’t going to help my game. He turned his attention back to Brad, who looked like he was pouting. “Come on,” Chester said, elbowing his friend jovially across the small table. “You know we don’t mean anything by it. And kudos on getting a date. What’s her name?”

“Elisa,” Brad answered, his voice suddenly less irritated and a lot dreamier. “Don’t tell Mike, but she works for one of our competing labels. It’s all gotta be on the down low for now.”

“Did you see that last shot?” Mike crowed as he came back to the table. “Total genius, that was!” He tipped back the last of his beer and smacked it down on the table. “Another round? How about this. Why don’t you two get your own game going and I’ll take a break. Next round on me, I’ll even go grab them,” he offered, ready to give the others a break from his mad pool skills.

Chester stood up, tugging at his white v-neck t-shirt. “You know, even when you’re being nice, you still sound like an ass.” He plastered a grin on his face as he poked Mike on the chest. “But yes, slave, we’ll take more drinks. Bring me a gin and tonic, will ya’? Here,” he stated as he pulled a wad of cash from his pocket. “And don’t give me that look, Mike,” he said as he counted out bills, “you know I’ve always got cash on me because of work. You can save your electronic money for later when we do something more expensive. Like dinner.” He handed his boyfriend a bundle of ones, fives, and tens, not really counting any of it.

“I’ll get right on that gin and tonic, master,” Mike teased, grabbing the cash and winking at his boyfriend. “Though I think we’ve got it backwards tonight. I’m definitely the one calling the shots, here.”

“Oh my God,” Brad grumbled, covering his ears. “Just go get the damn drinks, Mike. No more bedroom talk from the two of you.”

“What? Bedroom talk?” Mike feigned innocence. “I was just commenting on my pool game, Delson. Don’t be so sensitive.” He laughed as he turned away and headed for the bar, passing by each pool table as he went. None of the regulars were around tonight, but it was early, he reasoned. As he passed by the next to last table he glanced curiously at the two men in the heat of their game who were playing there. He didn’t recognize either of them, but that happened sometimes.

One of the guys had black hair that spiked about an inch and half up off his head in a messy fohawk style. He was leaning on his cue stick, an honest sort of smile on his lips as he watched the other man line up his shot. “Come on, Patrick,” he chuckled, “if you get this one in you can pay for my cheese fries.”

“More cheese fries? Really?” the redhead asked, his concentration flicking upward just long enough to give the other man an eye roll before he focused back on his shot.

Mike grinned as he passed by, barely giving them a glance. They sound like me and Chester. A warmth tickled his belly as he thought about his boyfriend, his short blonde spikes and deep brown eyes. Two years had blown by in a whirlwind of pool games, dinners, and romance, and he couldn’t remember being happier. He adored their banter and their constant lust for each other, and how that lust could quickly turn into something deeper and more meaningful. They really had the whole package together.

“Two Dos Equis and a gin and tonic,” Mike said to the bartender with a charming smile, turning to rest his back against the bar as he waited. This was their favorite hang out, the site of his first date with Chester, and a regular occurrence in their weekly routine now. He barely registered the low hanging fake stained glass domed lights over each pool table anymore, or the dark green walls, or the dark wood panels on the floor. It was all familiar and comforting, and usually on Thursday nights, it was filled with faces Mike had seen before. That must have been what drew his attention back to the guys at the second to last pool table as he leaned against the bar - the fact that he had never seen either of them before.

Or maybe it was the man with the dark hair, and the full out grin he was flashing his pool partner every time they traded conversation. Mike could see his exceptionally straight teeth from his vantage point, and the black t-shirt the man had on was showing off two forearms full of tattoos. Maybe it was the tattoos. He’d always had a thing for tattoos. It was what had drawn him to Chester as well.

“Here you go,” Mike heard the bartender say from behind him, and he turned quickly, a little embarrassed that he’d been staring at the young tattooed man two tables away.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, tossing down Chester’s cash and grabbing both beers by the neck in one hand, Chester’s drink in the other. He wasn’t going to stare when he walked back by. Maybe a quick glance at his arms, but that’s it, he told himself as he started back to the table Brad and Chester had abandoned to start their next pool game.

“Pete, I’ve told you this, like, a million times,” Patrick said as he pointed at their string of balls left on the table, “the stripes don’t feel inferior just because the eight ball is a solid.”

“You don’t know that. Just think how you’d feel if you were a stripe.”

Mike’s eyes flashed over at the pair he’d been watching, putting the overheard name with the face it belonged to. Pete. His name is Pete. Why the fuck that matters, I have no idea. He scanned the tattooed arm that was holding a beer up to Pete’s mouth, and Mike could swear his heart skipped a beat. Christ. Look at those lips. Holy hell, this guy is smokin’ hot. With a guilty conscience, he flicked his gaze away before he saw Pete swallow a sip, hastily making his way back to his boyfriend. Looking doesn’t mean anything, we look at guys all the time. Rank them, even. I should point him out and see what Chester thinks. No, I’ll wait for Chaz to point him out to me. That would be better.

“Who’s winning?” Mike asked as he set the drinks on the table before squeezing and poking his lime down the neck of his beer bottle. “Have either of you gotten anything in?” He took the opposite seat from the one he’d been sitting in before, Chester’s previous location affording him a more discreet view of Pete from behind his drink.

“I’m losing,” Chester admitted as he stood watching Brad attempt to calculate his next shot. “And what’s worse is that somehow we ended up betting twenty bucks a ball. I’m going to have to pierce like fifty extra people at the shop tomorrow,” he groaned as he headed for the table. He picked up his gin and tonic, nodded it toward Mike and said, “Thank you, slave,” before he took a long gulp, licking his lips directly afterward.

“You’re so sexy when you do that,” Mike whispered, keeping his voice down for Brad’s benefit and feeling better about himself as he focused on his boyfriend. “You want me to help you with your shot?” he asked, nodding toward the table.

Chester took another drink before he set it back on the table. “No,” he denied, quickly patting Mike on the knee. “I’ve done this to myself. Gotta die like a man and be in debt to Delson.” He grinned for a second before he let out a slightly intoxicated giggle. “Brad! I might need a payment plan!” he laughed as he headed back toward the table to try and be a distraction.

“Of course you will,” Brad said drily, his attention focused on his shot. “I’m gonna kick your ass this time.”

Mike smiled at their bickering, knowing it was all in fun. He watched Brad sink a ball then miss the next shot, and Chester’s next shot left him with a good thirty second view of his boyfriend stretched out over the table. Mmmm. I may have to stretch him out over our kitchen table when we get home. Too bad I can’t get him on this pool table here. He bit his lip for a second and held back a sigh before knocking back another long drink of his beer. He set it down on the table and wiped his index finger quickly across his mouth, his facial hair tickling his hand. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna need a loan, Chaz. All I’ve got is electronic money!” His voice came out louder than he intended, and Mike realized he was already on his third beer and feeling pretty good. He also realized that his eyes kept drifting back to Pete even though he was trying to stay focused on the pool game in front of him.

“Pffffft,” Chester half slurred as he spun away from the table to face his boyfriend. “What loan? I just gave you a handful of money for three drinks. The way I see it, you owe me.” He waited, knowing Mike would have something smart to say, but he didn’t. Not right away. Chester looked over, his gaze floating across the room to the next occupied pool table where two guys were playing. The one with a lot of tattoos caught his attention immediately, and his eyebrow cocked as he looked back at Mike. “See something you like?” he asked as he took a few steps toward his boyfriend and his gin and tonic, which looked very lonely.

“I see you,” Mike answered immediately, knowing he’d been caught looking. He put his eyes back on Chester and shrugged, trying to play it off. “I may have gotten a bit distracted by some tattooed arms over there,” he nodded his head toward Pete, “but he’s got nothing on you, Chazzy.”

“Mhm,” Chester mumbled with a silly smile as he picked up his drink. He turned toward the other pool table as he sipped it. He watched as the tattooed fella and the redhead exchanged words almost constantly as they played, as they pointed at the table, and each other. He didn’t miss the slender build of the dark haired man, and how his eyes were deep and searching every time they flashed across the room toward him and Mike. “I don’t know, I’d give him an eight,” Chester said, looking back at Mike.

“An eight, huh?” Mike said absently, keeping his eyes on Chester. “Where’d he lose the other two points? From where I’m sitting, I can’t find anything wrong with him.”

“Chaz! You’re up!” Brad called from the pool table, his hands on his hips. “Are you two gonna make eyes at each other all night or are you gonna let me kick your ass and take your money?”

Chester let out a groan as he set his drink down. “Why do we even bring him?” he snickered at Mike playfully before he promised he’d be right back. “Gotta go lose another twenty bucks!” he hollered over his shoulder before he scrubbed his fingers through his blonde spikes, inspecting the table. “And you need to chill, Delson. If I lose slow or really fast, you get my hard earned cash either way.”

“Don’t worry, Chaz, I’ll defend your honor. I’ll win your money back for you,” Mike called confidently, taunting Brad by wrinkling his nose and sticking his tongue out at him before he burst into laughter. “Damn, Delson, your face. Fine, fine, I’ll just sit over here and keep myself occupied,” he surrendered, holding up both hands.

Mike rested his elbow on the table and watched as Chester lined up a shot. “Okay, I lied,” he called. “Chaz, don’t take that shot. Move over and hit the four ball. It’s a better shot, you’ll make that one.” He glanced Pete’s way again as he gave instructions, and blinked twice. Now Pete was the one stretched out over the pool table, and Mike could see the hint of another tattoo on his lower back as his t-shirt was pulled higher than the top of his jeans. I wonder how many tattoos he’s hiding under that shirt. Not that it matters.

Chester raised his cue stick in victory as he sunk the four ball. “Mike, you were actually right!” he called, twisting around to get a thumbs up from his boyfriend, but he dropped his excited stance the moment he saw his lover ignoring his win. Chester looked across the room again, giving the pair of guys another once over. He watched them for only a second before he turned his attention back to the game. He took his shot, just barely missing his target. “Damn,” he cursed softly before he nodded to Brad. “You’re up.”

“I’ve got you right where I want you,” Brad mumbled as he eyed the table. “Your money is mine, Bennington.”

Mike’s attention went right back to his boyfriend as Chester came and stood in his line of sight, right between him and Pete. He felt his cheeks flush a bit. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me. You know how much I love tattoos. I guess I’m just curious,” he admitted, dropping his gaze to the top of Chester’s drink. “Doesn’t matter, you’re the only person I want to go home with.” He hooked a finger around one of Chester’s belt loops and tugged him a little bit closer. “You know that, right?”

Chester leaned forward, losing his lips in Mike’s shaggy black hair for a moment as he kissed his head. “Of course I know that,” he said before he stood himself up straight, and swiped Mike’s hair from his eyes. “Now, go talk to him,” he suggested as he stepped out of the way. “Because clearly you’re hung up on him, so go on.” He waved through the air with his drink, a smile on his face. “I mean, you think he’s a ten on our sexy scale and even though that guy he’s playing pool with is probably his lover for the last who-knows how many years, you should go say something to him. Go ahead. I want to see you do it.” He took another step, this time leaning close to his boyfriend’s ear. “If you manage to get his name and number, I’ll suck you off before dinner.” He wiggled his eyebrows, even though he knew Mike couldn’t see him.

Mike leaned back and caught Chester’s sexy smile. “Before dinner? Too bad that’s not gonna work out. I never get numbers, and hardly ever names. It’s a wonder I ever snagged you.” He pressed a quick kiss to Chester’s lips. “And I didn’t say he was a ten, I was just curious what you thought was wrong with him.”

Brad chose that moment to walk over and grab his beer. “I feel like I’m playing by myself,” he commented, rolling his eyes.

“Playing with yourself?” Mike said, holding back a chuckle as he winked at Chester.

By myself,” Brad corrected. “I don’t know what you two are up to, but history tells me it’s probably no good.” He looked around the room for a minute, scanning over the other people at the bar before he turned back to his friends. They were both trying not to laugh, and Mike was nearly red with the effort. “No. Oh, no. Don’t tell me you’ve found a target again. I’ll never understand this game you two have.”

“Hey,” Chester said, his hand going out to rest on Brad’s boney shoulder, “just calm your jets, Delson. Now, you see that hot guy over there,” he said, nodding and pointing toward the two guys a few tables away, “I was just telling Mike that instead of sitting over here and slobbering over him, he needs to go and try and talk to him. Get a name and a number and if he does, well, he wins.” He patted Brad’s shoulder before he let go of him and took another drink. He was really starting to feel the alcohol and the thought of watching Mike try to fumble his way through what he knew would be a horribly awkward conversation would be a mix of amusing and a turn on. He’d really grown to like watching Mike interact with other sexy guys, though he’d kept that fact mostly to himself. He licked his lips and rolled his tongue piercing as his mind conjured up ideas of what it would look like - Mike face to face with the dark haired, tattooed pool player with the cute smile.

“Wins? Wins what?” Brad asked, before he quickly corrected himself. “No. God, don’t tell me. It’s never about money with you two.”

“Of course not,” Mike laughed as Brad picked at the label of his beer. “Why would it be?” He looked back at Chester with a suggestive smirk. “Before dinner, huh? Don’t forget, you promised me,” he said seriously before he knocked back the rest of his beer, the effects of the alcohol giving him a little bit of courage. He was a terrible flirt, and he knew there was no way he was coming back with a phone number, but the challenge had been extended and he couldn’t back down now. “I guess you better wish me luck, Chazzy.”

“Oh, I do,” Chester assured him with an affectionate rub to his back. “Go get him. Don’t come back without a name and a number.” He stopped for a moment, his intoxicated laugh from before showing up as he tugged on the back of Mike’s t-shirt. “Or both their numbers! I’ll give you a double win for that!”

Brad flopped down heavily in the bar stool and watched Mike shake his head before he started over to the other table. “I don’t get you two,” he said again for at least the third time. “Tell me how this is fun for you? Watching your boyfriend make a fool of himself in front of other guys?”

Chester turned, giving Brad a hard stare before his gaze softened. “It’s not about watching him make a fool of himself,” he stated, his rowdy tone from before gone. “Mike’s got, like, self-esteem issues sometimes. It’s good for him to try and talk to people. Even at work,” he said, flipping his hand toward Brad as he spoke. “He tells me how nervous he gets. He’ll never get anywhere in that company if he doesn’t learn how to talk to people. How to sell himself. That’s all flirting is, it’s selling yourself.” He glanced back across the room, watching as Mike stood a few feet away from the guys, like he was scared to step into their private bubble. “And if he can practice on hot guys,” Chester added, “then why the hell not? Besides, he never comes back with a number, but if he ever does, I’ll be hella proud of him.”

“So… the way you see it, you’re helping him out,” Brad said thoughtfully, his eyes following Chester’s gaze. “He does have trouble at work sometimes. He’s not assertive enough. I swear half the time I do his talking for him.” He fluffed a hand around his mass of curls and sighed. “At least he takes it all in good spirits. A game, with a prize. Mike’s nothing if not competitive.” He looked back at Chester. “You’re good for him. You’re always trying to make him better and you let him be himself. I don’t know how he ever managed to get your number, but it’s a good thing he did.”

“I was drunk out of my mind,” Chester laughed. “And he was cute. And really good at pool. It didn’t take much,” he admitted with a shrug. “You know how sometimes you meet someone and you have an instant connection with them? Like, you feel like you already know them? That’s how it was with me and Mike.” He smiled in thought, the memory flashing lazily across his mind before he turned back toward his boyfriend, and the two strangers who didn’t even seem to notice him.



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