Needle in the ARM, BITCH!
Ft Pissed off Patrick and underage drinking
"So…" Pete was rocking back and forth on his tiptoes in the middle of the Poseidon cabin, Joe and Andy sitting on the bed. Frank Iero was standing beside Pete, a smirk on his pierced lips. "I was talking to Iero over here," he gestured to the shorter camper, "and he said he knew a place where you can get inked when you're underage." Andy's face lit up, and he looked down at the start of tattoo sleeves he'd gotten started in New York, and grinned at his boyfriend.
"Got anything you want done, Joe?"
"Well," the younger said hesitantly. "I have an idea, but it's kinda stupid, I'm gonna think it over on the way there." Pete, Andy and Frank nodded in understanding, and they went back to discussing how they were going to get out of the camp without getting caught by harpies, or worse…Patrick.
A few hours later, Frank, Pete, Andy, Joe, Gabe and Brendon were standing behind the Hades cabin, Gabe and Brendon already wasted beyond Tartarus, and the others preparing themselves for getting the two out of camp. Pete gestured for them to follow, and stared at Joe and Andy until they stopped making out against a tree and started blushing and muttering about damn emos or something like that.
They walked in a group, Joe and Andy at the back, making sure that the "drunk duo" didn't run out to the woods and harass some dryads. They were nearly at the border when Joe went still, immediately drawing Andy to a standstill as well. "I heard something." Joe whispered, a hint of fear in his voice.
"Everyone be quiet." Ordered Frank, causing even Bren and Gabe to stop their tipsy giggling and stand there, clinging to their vodka as the other four scanned the area for any threats. Suddenly Pete let out a scream, and a red-faced, out of breath Patrick stump appeared behind Joe.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he wheezed. "Is that vodka? Where are you going? I fucking swear, Pet-" a tanned hand was clapped over the boy's mouth, and was soon replaced with-
"Pete, is that duct tape?!" sputtered Andy. "I'm seriously not sure that's a good idea, dude." Patrick had gone even more red in the face, and was struggling like a fish out of water as Frank and Pete picked him up and carried on ahead, leaving a bewildered Joe and Andy to sprint and catch up with them, consequently bashing into the Dionysus kids, and cursing as they tripped the rest of the way through he woods with muddy jackets.
When they reached the tattoo place, they walked inside into the warmth and set Patrick down, collapsing onto chairs while Pete went to talk to the guys who would be doing their tattoos. Joe grabbed Andy's hand, and pulled him behind the pillar that held up the roof of the shop. As they crashed their lips together, Joe held Andy close to him, and giggled as they pulled apart. "This is so fun," he murmured. "I never want it to end. I never want this-" he gestured between their chests "to end."
"Well it's not going to," replied Andy, pulling him in for another kiss. "So you'd better get used to it." He ended with a smirk, pulling Joe back to the bench, where they sat with their fingers entwined until Andy had to get up and head over to Pete to help deal with the tattoo artist, Bob, Joe thought he was called.
As he leaned his head back against the wall, he felt a nudge on his arm and smelt vodka in front of him. "Hey dude, you have to try this." Slurred Brendon. Thinking that if he was going to get a tattoo, he might as well go all the way with this teenage rebellion, he grabbed the bottle of liquor from his intoxicated friend and took a swig, wincing at the burn in the back of his throat. He pondered the taste for a few moments, then remembered that the point of this was to get drunk, not to sample delicious liquids, and downed another few gulps before the bottle was snatched away by Bren, who told him to "slow down, Trohman, you're gonna die of alcohol poisoning at that rate." Joe spared a glance at Gabe, who was struggling to free Patrick from his bonds (quite hard when you're drunk, it seems).
Joe only began to notice how dizzy he was when the tattoo artist was in the middle of the "hate" part of the "viva hate" he was getting tattooed on his stomach (what, it was a really good Morrissey album, alright?). His head began spinning and he suddenly wondered why he hadn't realized before how funny this whole thing was. Patrick was falling asleep in his chair, still tied up, Brendon and Gabe were producing alcohol practically from thin air, and Andy was getting part of his sleeve done next to him.
He giggled, the alcohol giving him a buzz, and he barely noticed the sting of the needle as his tattoo was finished off. While it was being bandaged up, he looked over at Andy, who was having the same process done to his arm, and smiled, a wave of happiness and affection rolling over him.
They walked back through the woods, Joe and Andy hand in hand, the others stumbling drunkenly behind, and that night they fell asleep with Joe's head on Andy's chest and Andy's hand in Joe's hair.