Fics like Write Our Names In Wet Concrete

They’d been doing this dance– this thing Frank calls their “will-they-won’t-they bullshit” of sleeping in the same bunk more often than not and being glued to each other’s sides– since Kansas. Been actual friends since the first real day of Warped, though, and Mikey had been tangentially aware of Pete since 2003 when they’d played some bowling alley in Chicago where Pete had made it his mission to introduce himself and tell Mikey he was a better bass player than Pete was before he made Mikey sign his left pec (“like a groupie, dude!” he’d said through gentle, beer-buzzed laughter.) Mikey was sure he’d blushed or said something stupid (or nothing at all, more likely), and Pete’s mouth had curled into this wicked little grin when he’d said, “Am I your first groupie, Mikeyway?” Name all smashed together like that. Mikeyway. One word. No space between. Kind of like he and Pete were now, not that Mikey’s complaining. _______________________ Begins in 2003 and chronicles what could have been (or maybe was, idk, I wasn't there) through to present day. Mostly inspired by a late night deep dive into Petekey lore that infected my brain and some of the more iconic moments therein.

Fics like Write Our Names In Wet Concrete

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