Pete had been in many situations - dangerous, chaotic, raw. But nothing, nothing, had prepared him for the moment Way grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into a kiss. It was sudden and desperate.
Way's lips crashed into his, hot and clumsy, tasting faintly of whiskey and sorrow. Pete's eyes snapped open as a warm, unfamiliar tongue forced its way into his mouth, tracing over the contours of his teeth, greedy and tender all at once.
His instincts kicked in, as Pete shoved him back, hands gripping Way's shoulders with the strength of a man torn between impulse and reason. He stared at him in disbelief,
𝙋𝙚𝙩𝙚 : W-what?! Why would you do that-
Before he could another word, Way surged forward again, this time pressing their mouths together with a hunger that was almost feral. It was harsh, deep and unrelenting.
A kiss born not of romance but ache - the kind that begged to feel anything other than heartbreak. And somehow... Pete didn't resist.
Just for a second, his grip loosened. His lips parted. Their tongues collided, dancing a rhythm both chaotic and strangely in sync. Heat curled in Pete's stomach, winding up his spine like fire.
Then, as quickly as it began, Way pulled back.
His breath was heavy, ragged. His glassy eyes searched Pete's face as he murmured,
𝙒𝙖𝙮 : Babe, I love you.
Pete's world shattered with those words.
𝙋𝙚𝙩𝙚 : Babe ? ...Right, he thinks I'm Babe...
It hit him like a bullet between the ribs. Pete stood frozen, his hands still on Way's shoulders, the echo of that kiss still burning on his lips. And just as quickly as he'd spoken, Way's knees buckled, his body slumping forward.
Pete caught him instinctively, arms wrapping around the smaller man's frame as if he'd done it a thousand times before. Way was warm and limp in his arms, breathing soft against his neck. The alcohol had claimed him at last.
Pete held him there for a moment. His mind raced, heart thundering in his chest. His hands clenched, not from anger but from everything else he wasn't supposed to feel - Longing, Jealousy and a hint of strange sadness.
He shook his head, burying the feelings deep down and gently placed Way down on the bar stool. He turned to his men,
𝙋𝙚𝙩𝙚 : Get him Home. Safe. Not a Single Scratch.
His men didn't dare to ask any questions. And so they did as they were told to do.