Canary In A Coal Mine [02] -- Peter Wentz

"What are we doing here, again?"
"We're here so you can pick up hot chicks."
Peter frowned, but then couldn't help smiling at his friend.
Gabe was what he needed right now.
"See? Look at those two girls that just passed. That blonde one had a nice a-"
"I'm thirsty." Peter cut him off.
They sat down at the dim bar.
Gabe ordered a maragrita, Peter ordered cranberry juice.
"'What are you, on your period?'" Gabe giggled.
"Don't give me that The Departed crap."
"'It's a natural diuretic.' Did you kn-" Gabe suddenly looked past Peter.
Peter hadn't been looking at Gabe, but instead had been looking at his juice. "Yes, I know."
"Isn't...Uh, Isn't that Amber?"
Pete's head whipped around. He searched for the familiar aviator sunglasses she always wore [even inside], the familiar choppy brown hair.
His heart raced 80 miles an hour when he saw her, and then stopped cold.
She was dancing. With some...guy.
"Let's go. This place is lame." Gabe tried to stop the eminent explosion.
Peter didn't listen. He got up and pulled his hood up. His eyeliner-rimmed eyes flashed.
Amber and the loser she was dancing with didn't notice him, until he tapped her shoulder.
"Peter? Oh my god..."
"Yeah. It's me. What's up, babe?"
"Hey, buddy, back off, awright?" The "Guy" said in a despicable Boston accent.
"Hey, why don't you back off, pal?" Peter said defensively, even though he was about 4 inches shorter than him.
"Guys! Settle down!" Amber tried to break the tension. She whisked Peter aside. "Look, Petey, I-"
"Don't fucking 'Petey' me."
"Pete! Look. The flight to Jimmy's got canceled-"
"I don't need your bullshit right now. You said you wanted a fucking break. A break."
"I bet you need one, too!"
"Like fuck I do. And you know what? I don't need you."
Amber stood there, her eyes welling up behind the shades.
"Peter...come on...Panda?"
"Don't fucking call me Panda! Only my friends can call me that!"
Peter stormed away, fuming.
He sat down again next to Gabe.

"Hey, man, you o-"
"Gimme a shot of vodka."
The bartender set the liquor in front of Peter, who proceeded to down it and ask for another one.
Soon, he'd had about a dozen shots.
"Hey, man, slow do-"
"I wanna fucking dance!" Pete yelled in a loud, slurred voice.
Gabe looked at him worriedly. "Peter, let's get you home." He set his arm on Pete's shoulder.
"Don't touch me, G-Gabe!" He brushed Gabe's hand off. "What does it take to get a fucking dance around here?"
Peter stumbled onto the dance floor. Gabe, sighing, followed him.
Peter was laughing hysterically for no reason. "Did you see that? The light up there went off...but then it turned back on."
"Yeah, fucking priceless. I think we really need to go home." Gabe was worried if strobe lights were making Peter laugh.
"I gotta go to the bathroom." Peter announced loudly, and walked away.
Gabe went back to the bar, to get their coats.
Twenty minutes passed, and he started to get worried.
He finally spotted Pete in the crowd, fondling dancing with some girl.

"We never stood a chance and I'm not sure if it matters."
"You come here often?" She yelled over the loud music.
"Sometimes...hey, doll? What's your name?"
"Michelle! What's yours?"
"Pete!"
They danced a couple more songs.
Pete was starting to make his move when she asked "Wanna come back to my place?"
"Depends. How far is it?"
"About twenty minutes from here."
"My place is ten."

"If you are the shores, I am the waves, begging for big moons."
Pete pushed Michelle against the wall once they were inside and had shut the door.
She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a rough, alcohol induced kiss.
His hands traveled up her shirt; her hands ran through his hair.
She started to remove his hoodie.
Peter broke the kiss and slurred "My bedroom's right over there."
They both stumbled clumsily in, and made sure to lock the door.
Once in his room, they proceeded removing each other's clothes.
Michelle picked up something from his bedstand.
"Transformers?"
"Er...yes. They're not mine."
"Ha. I think they're hot." She said, straddling him.

"Tell me you'd like boys like me better in the dark lying on top of you.
The next morning, Peter woke up with a splitting headache.
His bed was cold.
And sunlight was pouring in, poking him in the eyes.
He reached out but felt nothing but air.
He opened one eye. There was nothing but crumpled sheets where he was sure a girl had been the night before.
"Peter Wentz, you just had a one-night stand."
"I know this hurts...It was meant to."
Feed the back.
Er, feedback, that is.
C-box? That's been kinda lonely lately. Messages are nice too. And holy canoli, do I love banners. ^_^

I bet Peter hugs are the best.