Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > I'm Not One For Love Songs

I'm Not One For Love Songs (Part 24)

by ohsotay23 3 Reviews

I don't really feel like writing a summary, just read it. Oh, and review. (:

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Humor,Romance - Characters:  - Published: 2010/04/02 - Updated: 2010/04/03 - 2066 words - Complete

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Author's Note: I know I haven't updated in forever. I have no excuse besides that life just gets hectic sometimes, yuh dig? Probably one more chapter after this. It has winded down and I'm trying to think of some ideas for another story. It seems to me like ficwad is kind of dying though?


Song Recommendation: We Love Like Vampires- Sparks The Rescue


I'm Not One For Love Songs


“Don't ask me, I have no fucking clue what you should do.”

I just looked at Jay, “Thanks cuntface, that helps so freaking much,” I said with an unamused face. I had just finished telling Jaycee what had occurred all this morning. We were speed walking on the treadmills, taking a brief break after running our first mile.

“Well, I mean, at least the Dumb Asshole Douche, a.k.a. D.A.D., is gone. Or well, I guess he's not your Dad, sooo, I guess just the asshole douche? I don't know. Anyways, he's gone now, hopefully for good. And Gabe didn't seem like he was ready to flake out or anything now that he's gotten a dose of the drama that is encased in your life, right?” she asked a bit hesitantly with raised eyebrows.

“Not at all, he was there and the perfect support system,” I let her know, smiling back as I reflected on my morning and how sweet he had been.

“Then I don't see the problem. I mean if you want to try and take a look for your biological father, then I'm here to support you. Do you really think that you're ready for that though?” she asked, not holding back at all, as usual.

“Honestly, I don't think I'm ready to meet the guy who my mother fucked behind my douche bag ex-father's back. Maybe in the near future I'll try and look for him, but not just yet,” I admitted to her and myself.

“That's probably for the best,” she agreed and we both sped our treadmills back up and started up to run another mile before continuing with the rest of our conversation.

About 4 minutes later Jay stopped, “Kay, I'm done,” she sighed as she slowed it down and started to take some deep breaths.

“Dude! We didn't even do a half a mile! I need to get all of this BLAH energy out!” I whined, still running at my steady 6.8 miles per hour.

“We just ran a freaking mile less than 15 minutes ago! I am good for a week and a half! You can run all of your blahblahblah-ness out while I go 5 feet to the right and do the arm weight machine,” she declared as she walked to the right of my machine. I just shook my head and rolled my eyes at her preference over doing the weights rather than the cardio.

I kept up running until I could barely walk myself the eight blocks back to my apartment. Jay had decided that she was going to shower and change and that she would be back later to have a movie night and Chinese. And yes, I am aware that working out and then gorging yourself is completely pointless. It's a girl thing.

As I entered the apartment I could help but grin widely and silently 'Awww' to myself.

The apartment was spotless. Everything was back in it's place. Everything that had been broken was put back together. One thing was missing though: Gabe. I looked around the room, turning in a full circle, and then checked the kitchen, bathroom, and Jay's soon to be ex-room. As I approached my bedroom I was beginning to feel a bit worried about dear Gabriel's whereabouts. As I opened the door to the room and walked in I felt myself let out a relieved sigh. He was literally laying on my bed with a tub of Haagen Daz chocolate ice cream and watching the Tennis Channel.

“Why on Earth are you watching the Tennis Channel?” I asked, completely taken aback. As far as I knew I was the only person that I knew who enjoyed the sport enough to regularly watch a channel completely dedicated to it.

“Because it's pretty much the only thing that you watch 85.9% of the time, so I figured that I should start getting a better understanding,” he explained, as if I was an idiot for asking. He didn't even bother taking his eyes off the screen as I looked a bit bewildered while watching an old Nadal vs. Federer match.

I half-smiled and took a seat next time him on the bed. All I had ever wanted was a guy who loved tennis as much as I did. And while he didn't exactly love it like I did, he was at least trying to understand it. And that was enough for me. I guess you don't need to have the same like and passions as the person that you love to be able to really love them. You just need to be open-minded enough to try and understand it, and then maybe you'll end up loving it to.

“You're cute,” I said simply and turned my head to look at the side of his completely enraptured game.

“Thanks hunny bunny, you're cute too,” he winked at me and put his arm around my shoulder.

“So, what do you think so far?” I asked, a bit amused.

“I barely understand this at all. Why is that guy who looks like a pirate standing there and why doesn't that other dude with the big nose just move over there so that he can get to the ball faster?”

“Oh, the pirate one is Rafael Nadal dear. When I'm done with you I fully plan on marrying him. I even have a shirt with his face on it,” I said with complete seriousness, though only half of that statement was true.

“I hate you,” he said with a mock glare.

“Well, that's okay, because Rafa loves me,” I said with a fake, though almost real, swoon at the television.

He just kept glaring, “Kidding!” I said, putting my hands up and surrendering, “You're the only one I love,” I told him with a kiss to the cheek.

That sure put a smile on his face, though he tried to hide it and pretend to still be mad, “Good, cause he probably can't even speak English.”

I just gave him a look, because he was totally one to be saying that about someone.

“P.S. I love you too,” he whispered in my ear as we went back to the match.

“Good... butthead,” I said with my nose up, though we both smiled and looked to the side at each other.

I leaned my shoulder against his and we both laid there leaning against the pillows and shared some ice cream. Sure he got pissed of at my comments about how sexy Rafael Nadal is, and I got annoyed by the fact that he was making fun of the grunting, the umpire's accent, and Rafa's wedgie picking. That was okay, though, because he was giving it a chance.

And that's exactly how Jay found us an hour and a half later; with the Tennis Channel on, us curled up next to each other fast asleep, and a melted carton of ice cream on the bedside table.

“You didn't have sex, did you?” she asked monotonously.

“Yes, I'm actually pregnant with his sextuplets right now. The TLC cameras should be here any day now,” I groaned and rolled over so that I could get up off of the bed and wake up a bit more.

“Yep, we're even gonna go for triplets after that. Take that John and Kate. We'll take your sextuplets and twins and add one more!” Gabe said as if he was pumping himself up. Oh jeez.

“Do you have any idea how much that would not surprise me?” Jay asked with her arms crossed as we left the bedroom and walked towards the kitchen.

“Almost as much as it would not surprise me if Fall Out Boy's agent made Joe go to a speech therapist to get that whole lisp problem fixed,” I teased.

“Hey!” Joe said offended, as he stood in my kitchen eating some dry Captain Crunch. I did in fact jump in surprise at his appearance in my apartment.

“Oh, hey there Joe. How nice it is to see you completely unexpectedly in the middle of my kitchen, eating my cereal, and scaring the crap out of me,” I said sarcastically.

“You know how it is. It's hard out there for a Jew,” he shrugged.

“If you were not my best friend's fiancee I would probably send you to a homeless shelter and make them shave your beard off,” I informed him.

“As long as they don't touch the hair on my head or grope me in any inappropriate places then I'd be cool with that,” he told me.

“I'll keep that in the mental storage cabinet,” I joked.

To you it might seem like I completely hate Joseph Mark Trohman, but that is not true. You see, this is our relationship: I make fun of him and he comes up with humorous quips. It keeps things interesting. And he does know that I approve of him and think of him as a friend/cool guy.

“So, uhm, not that I don't love you and you Jewishness and all, but what exactly are you doing here?”

“I came to pick up dear Gabriel so that he could get some help getting the rest of his shit out of his apartment and then I am going to help JayJay get her crap out of her room,” he said.

“All by yourself?” I raised my eyebrow skeptically know just how lazy this man was most of the time.

“Well we will also be meeting Peter, Ryland, Suareasy, and P-trick there.”

“You seriously just had to try and give them all nicknames, didn't you?” Jay asked with an annoyed sigh.

“Don't hate my attempts babe! Even I couldn't make those plain jane names sound any funkier!” he said defensively.

“Joe, you have one of the plainest, overused names ever used before,” she informed him.

“I can't help that no one is trying to give me a cool nickname and fix that. I am simply trying to help some bros out and I get the haters all over me. Oh well, I guess haters are gonna hate, nothing you can do about that,” he said with an accepting head nod.

“But remember man, as the wise man Weezy always says, “haters make you famous”,” Gabe added with a smirk.

“I can no longer stand being a room with either of you two. My sanity is literally leaving bit by bit. Please go and get his stuff and do not enter this apartment again until at least 10 o'clock,” Jay said with frustration and an obvious oncoming headache. I definitely saw her trying to contain some giggles though.

“Alright, see you later babe,” Joe said with a peck on her head before going to help Gabe grab his wallet and such while trying to make sure that he didn't trip over anything with the crutches.

“Oh, Nat! Come here for a second!” I heard Gabe call to my from the door.

As I approached him he opened his arms and gave me a big hug, though his left crutch dug into my shoulder, and a peck on the lips before pulling back and explaining to me, “I couldn't forget to give you a proper goodbye, and you didn't expect me to walk all the way back over there with these crutches, did you?” he asked me with a 'tsk'.

“You're such a primadonna,” I teased with a pat to his cheeks, “go get your crap,” I told him.

“Be back home later,” he called as he closed the door.

'Home'. He called this place 'home'. And I actually like how it sounded coming from his mouth.

But for the next few hours I had to focus more on some girl time, Chinese food, and old black and white movies, while me and Jay talked about our boys.

It was a calming feeling to know that someone would be there once Jay left to be with her own guy.

This was for real, and this was great.
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