FuzMa (fuzma) wrote,

Mary said I should post this here. So here goes nothing. It is total crack!fic. Don' let yourself be stopped from the pairing cause NOTHING actually happens, okay?

title: "Dirty Pretty Thing new lover from Kate Moss. What will his mate Pete say?”
category: real person slash
pairing: Stan/Peter and Kate Moss
notes: I had to write this after the sarcastic conversation Mary and I had here, after it has been all over the yellow press that Kate Moss and Stan from DPT are love birds now :P And that Peter and Stan are actually mates!
Also, the "painting houses" thing comes from an interview with Stan where he said he thought he would have to paint houses for the rest of his life until the job in The Libs and of course DPT came along.
And keep in mind that I am one of those people who like Kate Moss.
warning:Well, as I said this is crack!fic. But even when I try to be silly from sentence one to the last one I still manage to end up writing fluff. Angsty fluff even. Don't ask me how I do that! I am such a fucking fool for fluff. Written in ten minutes. Heh. That explains all the mistakes ;)
disclaimer: It says so in THE SUN, and THE DAILY MIRROR. If we cannot believe those anymore then I don't know ...

I cannot believe I am posting this. *sighs*

Stan is glad he is finally home. His head feels as if someone is constantly hammering against the walls of his brain. Will he ever learn that he just cannot hold his liquor when it comes to Gin? After this he definitely will. Never again am I drinking the vile stuff. This thought though makes him think about what happened last night, and he feels the bile rising in his throat. Quickly he stumbles into the bathroom and throws up into the sink.

Stan just made it onto the bed when he hears the front door bang against the wall and close again, loud stomping in the hall and then he is standing seething and towering in the door to the bedroom, a paper in hand. The SUN, as far as Stan can make out in his hazy state. Ohshit! Nononono. I should have been the one telling him, not the bloody SUN.

“Could you maybe explain this to me?!” he roars, making Stan burrow his head in the pillow in front of him. The sheer volume of his voice is making his head pound even more than before.

“Pete, could you maybe … “ He is interrupted by yelling again. “Don’t Pete me. Look at this. LOOK! Tell me it is not true.” Okay. No mercy on my head then. I deserve this anyway. Slowly he lifts his head, just to be confronted with the front page of The SUN and the crucial headline: “Dirty Pretty Thing new lover from Kate Moss. What will his mate Pete say?”

Stan pulls up all his bravery and looks into Pete eyes. Pete, who is now pleading quietly: “Please tell me this is not true?” Stan cannot form any words, he just keeps looking at Pete and he can imagine how he must look like. All guilty and sorry. And probably very pitiful. Pete must have seen especially the guilt written all over his face and he goes all white, his eyes impossible huge and takes a step back, while crumpling up the paper with the offensive headline.
“No!”, he whispers. “You didn’t?! How the fuck could you do that, Stan? How?! And with her of all people? Have you fun hurting me like this? After all what I have done for you?! I bloody gave up my place in the band, so that you could finally get away from painting houses. Because of me you are where you are, while I gave up the most important thing in my life for you. You, who became my most important thing in my life. And this is how you pay me back? By fucking my ex behind my back and for all the world to know? Brilliant, Stan. Just brilliant.” After his rant all air leaves Pete and he falls down on the bed, burying his head in his hands. Stan sits up as well, wincing as even this slow movement brings pain to his head, and sits next to Pete. Not touching him though. He doesn’t think he has the right to touch him right now. He feels dirty and ashamed.
“Pete, I … “ he stumbles for words. “You cannot believe how sorry I am about this. I don’t want to excuse what I’ve did because there are no excuses but I cannot even remember any of last night. I remember playing the festival and meeting Kate backstage and then a whole lot of Gin. But that’s it.”
“How … “ Pete starts but doesn’t end it as Stan knows what he is about to ask anyway.
“I woke up next to her this morning, yeah? Ohgod, Peter, you know how I get from Gin. I promise I will never touch it again. I think she filled me up with it and well, I know it sounds ridiculous but I guess she took advantage of me. Fuck. I really cannot remember anything anymore. I cannot believe I did this to you … to us. Please, forgive me? I know I don’t even have the right to ask for forgiveness but PLEASE … ” Stan is near tears now and as Pete lifts his head from his hands, he can see Pete is not better off. SHIT! Look what you have done, you fucking idiot.
“I don’t know if I can, Stan. I definitely need some time to … “ He is interrupted by the phone ringing. Stan winces from the sudden sound and makes no move to pick it up, but Peter does.
“Kate? How dare you call here after what you did last night?”
“What I did last night? What are you talking about, Pete?”
“You know what I am talking about!”
“No, I don’t. And before you can yell at me a bit more, I just called to ask how Stan is? I hope he got home alright? He really should just sleep it off today. And maybe keep away from the Gin, yeah?” At this she giggles, and Peter seethes.
“The fuck? You just fucked my best mate after filling him up with Gin and you have the nerve to call here and act as if nothing out of the ordinary happened?”
“Now wait a minute. I didn’t fuck Stan. Not at all. He nearly passed out yesterday and I didn’t think he should have been alone that night and all his mates were already gone, so I took him home with me and let him crash at my place. That’s all there is to it, Pete. You really should not believe all the papers. You of all people should know that.”
“But he said he woke up next to you this morning?” Pete sounds utterly confused while relief is mixing itself into his voice.
“Course he did, darling. We both slept in the same bed BUT we were both fully clothed. And I did not touch him. Pete, he wasn’t even able to lift a finger, how the hell should we have fucked? So, whatever you have yelled at him for this, go and forgive him. Not that there is anything you have to forgive him for. Okay?”
“Okay. Shit. Thank you, Kate.” He hangs up. Stan is back to lying on the bed, his eyes closed and still a pained expression on his face. Pete looks fondly at him, leans over and kisses his forehead. Stan opens confused eyes. “Wha…?”
“Shhhhh! It’s alright. Everything is alright again. You just sleep it off and then I’ll explain it all, yeah?” Stan obeys with a sigh, not trying to question this sudden change in Pete's behaviour, and Pete snuggles close to him, closing his eyes in relief.
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