Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy
Nightmares
6 Reviews'Aww, did Petey have bad dreams again?' Andy cooed in a whine that was thick with sarcasm. Dickweed. ::PETERICK::
Um, hey, Fall Out Boy readers. -waves nervously- This is my first FOB fic, but I have recently discovered my undying love for them, and I figured that me being a writer, I'd, y'know, write about them... But anyway, I'll shut up now, and please R&R? I will love you forever if you do. Thank'ee :3
'HOLY SHIT!' I almost fell headlong from my bunk, but instead I just shot upright at about three million miles an hour, my head smacking into the ceiling of my bunk. Pain erupted in my forehead, and I closed my tired eyes, slapping a hand to the throbbing bruise that was getting bigger every night. 'ARGH!' I winced at the pain, and I began spouting swear words under my breath as I forced my eyes open and turned to look around the darkened tour bus. Across from my bunk lay Andy and Joe, sound asleep beneath their blankets. Fuckers that they are. How is it fair that they can sleep through Pete and not me?
Another bloodcurdling shriek, similar to the one that ripped me from my dreams, tore the silence beneath me, and I jumped again. I managed not to hit my head again, but I grimaced. Every single fucking night...
I leaned over the edge of my bunk so that I was looking down into Pete's, where my best friend was lying, currently locked in a nightmare; his body was rigid, and there was sweat beaded all over his tanned face. His eyes were screwed shut so tightly that he'd surely be seeing stars when they opened, and his teeth were clenched almost as tightly as his fists, which were balled up at his sides, his knuckles going white. I watched his whole body shake as he screamed again, this time so loudly that I expected Andy and Joe to awake. But they fucking didn't. Fucking dickmuffins.
My heart wrenched as I watched him, but my pity was drowned out and overthrown by the overwhelming tiredness and bubbling annoyance-turned-anger that had been brewing inside me for weeks since these nightmare bouts had first started, tearing me from sleep every single fucking night.
'Pete!'
I shouted his name, trying to wake him, but he obviously didn't hear me, his expression became more pained and he screamed again, louder than ever. The scream drilled through my fucking skull, and I lost it.
'PETER MOTHERFUCKING WENTZ!'
His eyes snapped open and he gave another startled shriek as he tried to remember where he was. 'AHHH-PATRICK!?' He yelled as his gaze fell upon the upside down glare I was shooting at him from the darkness.
I took a breath, ready to tell him to SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME FUCKING SLEEP, but my words got caught in my throat the more I looked at him. He was breathing heavily in short, sharp gasps, and despite the sweat soaking his spiky black hair and running down his gorgeous face, he was shivering rather violently. His big brown eyes were shiny with - tears? - and both of his hands were covering his mouth in an attempt to make his breathing normal again-
Hold up. Did I just describe Pete's face as gorgeous?
...I did?
Ah fuck.
Oh well, at least it wasn't out loud. See, I maybe might kinda have a slight raging motherfucking huge crush on Pete Wentz, my best friend. And that right there is the reason I can't ever let him know how I feel. He's my best fucking friend.
Heh.
NO, not in that way, you sick, perverted brain. You know what I fucking mean. He was my best friend, which was why I couldn't ever tell him how I felt; it would fuck up our entire relationship, a relationship I worked shit-hard at building to the peak it's at right now.
My face softened as he trembled uncontrollably, and I adjusted my position so that I was more comfortable - although I knew that when I next sat upright I would suffer a pretty painful headrush.
'You alright, mate?' I murmured.
Pete slowly lowered his hands to rest on his bare, muscular, desirable- Patrick, stop - chest, and opened his mouth to reply, but another voice rang out.
'HOY! Will you two shut the fuck up?'
'STOP FUCKING SHOUTING!!'
Now all of us were awake. Great. Thanks, Peter.
Pete almost had a cardiac arrest, and he jumped harshly, slapping his hands to his mouth again, beginning to hyperventalate.
I looked across the bus to see Andy and Joe squinting sleepily at us from their bunks, but I could tell they were still half asleep. Lucky fuckers. In fact, Joe fell right back onto his pillow after his outburst, and instantly began snoring again. Just for that, I began to hate him with the burning rage of a thousand suns.
My face scrunched into a scowl. 'Well, then tell him to shut the hell up with his fff-bloody screaming!' Making the tremendous effort not to swear too badly, I pointed down at Pete, who was frowning up at me as though I had betrayed him in some way, shape or form.
Andy looking at me, then caught on to my distress. However instead of being constructive, he proceeded to degrade Pete, as he had deemed himself quite good at over the past few weeks. 'Aww, did Petey have bad dreams again?' he cooed in a whine that was thick with sarcasm. Dickweed.
'Fuck off, Andy,' mumbled Pete, his voice quieter than usual, and I looked down at him again, just soon enough to see a single tear roll down his cheek before rolling over to face the wall, his back to Andy.
'Pete? Hey, man, talk to me.' I leaned over again, but this time a bit too far, and I toppled from my bunk after wildly clawing at my sheets, my duvet, anything that would have stopped me falling. I landed heavily on the floor with a loud, emphasised and drawn-out 'Fuuuuuuuuuuuck...'
Owch. FUCK! That really fucking hurt more than it motherfucking should have.
I opened my eyes after reflexively closing them when I fell, and I looked up. I could see that Pete - the darling that he is-
Okay, Patrick fucking Vaughn Stump, you really need to stop the cutesy shit with Pete right now.
Anyway, Pete was now sitting bolt upright with his feet on the floor, leaning over me, a worried expression on his face-of-average-beauty. Wiping his eyes hurriedly, he said, 'Trick, you okay?'
Andy wasn't so sympathetic. From the second I hit the floor, he burst out laughing, and was presently clutching his stomach, completely pissing himself. Yes, I'm fine Pete, and yeah I'm fine Andy, thank's for fucking caring so fucking much.
I nodded at Pete, and Andy managed to choke out, 'Yeah, Tricky, you alright?' He wasn't really asking - he didn't really give two shits in his sleep confused state - but he was only speaking to further take the piss out of Pete.
Pete seemed to have noticed this too: his face hardened and he grabbed his pillow, lobbing it as hard as he could at Andy's face. The pillow hit him, but Pete stood up anyway, his bottom lip trembling, and I saw his eyes well up again before he stormed from the bunk area and out of the door into the night.
'Who pissed in Petey's cheerios?' asked Andy innocently, looking down at me from over the top of Pete's pillow. Lucky fucker. I would have given anything to have Pete's pillow in my face, the sweet smell of the Lynx Africa that Pete always wore lingering in my nostrils and making my head buzz... Where was I? Oh yeah, I was pissed at Andy.
'You did, Andy. Now shut it and go back to sleep, you're still pished from last night.' I rolled my eyes at him, and struggled to my feet, grabbing Andy's face and pushing his head down onto his pillow before following Pete out of the bus.
'Pete?' I whispered. I looked around and my eyes fell upon a hunched, shaking figure in the darkness by the back of the bus. Stepping out onto the tarmac, I hopped quickly towards him after the bloody freezing ground reminded my feet that they probably shouldn't have ventured out bare. Slowing down to approach Pete slowly, I could hear short, quiet sobs and my heart jolted. 'Pete?' I repeated, and I placed a hand on his shaking shoulder.
He jumped slightly, and stepped away from my touch, wiping his eyes quickly and turning to face me, trying his best to compose himself. 'Patrick,' he said, looking at me with those delicious brown eyes of his. Curse you, Pete Wentz, causer of heart murmurs.
I rubbed my head, my strawberry blonde hair ruffling in the slight breeze, and my head felt slightly naked in the absence of one of my many hats. I'm telling you, slight breezes are nowhere near as good as their reputations. I shivered, but for a different reason than Pete. 'Pete, are you okay, man?'
He nodded once, and looked at the ground, trying his best to hold back tears that were threatening to resurface from deep within. Stupid question, Patrick, of course he's not fucking okay.
I reworded what I was trying to say. 'What's wrong?'
He didn't reply.
'Look, I'm sorry, Pete, I really am. It's just, I haven't had a full night's sleep in weeks, my brain's kinda fucked up right now.' And my heart is too; you're fucking it up. Thank fuck I didn't say that out loud.
'I'm sorry, Trick,' Pete mumbled. 'I don't try to wake you up. I can't help the screaming though; the dreams, they just scare me so much...' He trailed off, and he looked so adorably sad, that I stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.
'What is it that you dream of that makes you scream so much?' I asked softly, not wanting to upset him further.
'I- I don't remember... But it's always the same. And it scares the living shit outta me.' He shuddered in my arms, and I squeezed him tighter, his aroma making my head swim and I found myself smiling like a crackhead despite the situation.
'It'll be fine, Pete. They're just dreams, remember that. They can't hurt you.' I felt a sob shake his frame, and I tightened my grip on him, and I stood up on tiptoes so I could kiss his forehead comfortingly. ' I won't let them.'
Ohhhhh shiiiittt.... Okay, so that last part might've just slipped out, and holy fuck did I just kiss Pete's head? I could feel my face burning like one of Joe's fucking joints. Sweet mother of fuck, I was so fucking fucked.
That seems to be a nervous habit of mine; most people bite their nails or crack their necks when they're nervous. Me? I swear as much as fucking possible, fitting as many 'fuck's into a fucking sentence as I fucking can.
But instead of shoving me away, Pete just sniffled slightly before saying softly, 'Thanks, Trick. I know you won't.' I pulled back slightly to smile sheepishly at him.
He was gazing at me. Not looking, not glancing, gazing. And it sent my heart into frenzy mode. More like 'holy fuck Pete Wentz is gazing at me' mode. There were still tears glistening on his cheeks, and without hesitating, I lifted my hand to wipe them away, running my short, stubby fingers along Pete's delicate cheekbones.
Pete gave a quiet giggle, then he blushed brightly. Pete Wentz fucking blushing? How much more fucking adorable could this guy get? He smiled at me and said, 'You have really nice eyes, Patrick.'
My 'really nice' eyes opened wide at that, and my heart skipped almost painfully. We edged closer, our faces mere inches from each other. 'Well,' I breathed. 'You have really nice eyes too, Peter.'
He smirked. 'Don't call me Peter.'
I smirked too. 'Can I kiss you now?'
Woah, where the hell did that come from?
His eyes sparkled. 'Yeah.'
Screw that last, where the fuck did THAT come from?!
But I spent no time pondering my luck, and quickly closed the gap between us, pushing my lips onto his quickly and getting straight to the point. Pete smiled into the kiss, and so did I. Who would have thought. Little Patrick Stump and sex-god Pete Wentz. Well, clearly US.
After several minutes of blissful kissing which I was glad Joe and Andy didn't interrupt, we broke apart. Pete was beaming, but his smile on the outside was nowhere near as big as mine on the inside. I half laughed, grabbing Pete by the hand. 'C'mon, Petey. Bed time.'
I pulled him back inside the tour bus, our heads still spinning from the magic that just occurred, and we both padded back through to the bunks, where Joe was unsurprisingly still in the deepest darkest recesses of slumber.
But Andy jolted awake when he heard our footsteps. 'You guys okay?'
'Yep,' said Pete, grabbing his pillow that Andy was still unconsciously clutching and ducking into his bunk.
'Perfectly,' I said, nodding to him and climbing into bed.
Nodding, Andy lay back, totally unaware that I had just climbed into Pete's bunk instead of my own.
Now, it seemed, I was the lucky fucker, and yes, you can take that in any way you wish, you perv.
Pete wasn't going to be having any more nightmares any time soon.
There you are. How was that? Not too bad I hope. I did bump off two English essays and studying for a French exam to write this, so I hope it didn't suck. Please rate and review? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaase? :3 Thanking you!
'HOLY SHIT!' I almost fell headlong from my bunk, but instead I just shot upright at about three million miles an hour, my head smacking into the ceiling of my bunk. Pain erupted in my forehead, and I closed my tired eyes, slapping a hand to the throbbing bruise that was getting bigger every night. 'ARGH!' I winced at the pain, and I began spouting swear words under my breath as I forced my eyes open and turned to look around the darkened tour bus. Across from my bunk lay Andy and Joe, sound asleep beneath their blankets. Fuckers that they are. How is it fair that they can sleep through Pete and not me?
Another bloodcurdling shriek, similar to the one that ripped me from my dreams, tore the silence beneath me, and I jumped again. I managed not to hit my head again, but I grimaced. Every single fucking night...
I leaned over the edge of my bunk so that I was looking down into Pete's, where my best friend was lying, currently locked in a nightmare; his body was rigid, and there was sweat beaded all over his tanned face. His eyes were screwed shut so tightly that he'd surely be seeing stars when they opened, and his teeth were clenched almost as tightly as his fists, which were balled up at his sides, his knuckles going white. I watched his whole body shake as he screamed again, this time so loudly that I expected Andy and Joe to awake. But they fucking didn't. Fucking dickmuffins.
My heart wrenched as I watched him, but my pity was drowned out and overthrown by the overwhelming tiredness and bubbling annoyance-turned-anger that had been brewing inside me for weeks since these nightmare bouts had first started, tearing me from sleep every single fucking night.
'Pete!'
I shouted his name, trying to wake him, but he obviously didn't hear me, his expression became more pained and he screamed again, louder than ever. The scream drilled through my fucking skull, and I lost it.
'PETER MOTHERFUCKING WENTZ!'
His eyes snapped open and he gave another startled shriek as he tried to remember where he was. 'AHHH-PATRICK!?' He yelled as his gaze fell upon the upside down glare I was shooting at him from the darkness.
I took a breath, ready to tell him to SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME FUCKING SLEEP, but my words got caught in my throat the more I looked at him. He was breathing heavily in short, sharp gasps, and despite the sweat soaking his spiky black hair and running down his gorgeous face, he was shivering rather violently. His big brown eyes were shiny with - tears? - and both of his hands were covering his mouth in an attempt to make his breathing normal again-
Hold up. Did I just describe Pete's face as gorgeous?
...I did?
Ah fuck.
Oh well, at least it wasn't out loud. See, I maybe might kinda have a slight raging motherfucking huge crush on Pete Wentz, my best friend. And that right there is the reason I can't ever let him know how I feel. He's my best fucking friend.
Heh.
NO, not in that way, you sick, perverted brain. You know what I fucking mean. He was my best friend, which was why I couldn't ever tell him how I felt; it would fuck up our entire relationship, a relationship I worked shit-hard at building to the peak it's at right now.
My face softened as he trembled uncontrollably, and I adjusted my position so that I was more comfortable - although I knew that when I next sat upright I would suffer a pretty painful headrush.
'You alright, mate?' I murmured.
Pete slowly lowered his hands to rest on his bare, muscular, desirable- Patrick, stop - chest, and opened his mouth to reply, but another voice rang out.
'HOY! Will you two shut the fuck up?'
'STOP FUCKING SHOUTING!!'
Now all of us were awake. Great. Thanks, Peter.
Pete almost had a cardiac arrest, and he jumped harshly, slapping his hands to his mouth again, beginning to hyperventalate.
I looked across the bus to see Andy and Joe squinting sleepily at us from their bunks, but I could tell they were still half asleep. Lucky fuckers. In fact, Joe fell right back onto his pillow after his outburst, and instantly began snoring again. Just for that, I began to hate him with the burning rage of a thousand suns.
My face scrunched into a scowl. 'Well, then tell him to shut the hell up with his fff-bloody screaming!' Making the tremendous effort not to swear too badly, I pointed down at Pete, who was frowning up at me as though I had betrayed him in some way, shape or form.
Andy looking at me, then caught on to my distress. However instead of being constructive, he proceeded to degrade Pete, as he had deemed himself quite good at over the past few weeks. 'Aww, did Petey have bad dreams again?' he cooed in a whine that was thick with sarcasm. Dickweed.
'Fuck off, Andy,' mumbled Pete, his voice quieter than usual, and I looked down at him again, just soon enough to see a single tear roll down his cheek before rolling over to face the wall, his back to Andy.
'Pete? Hey, man, talk to me.' I leaned over again, but this time a bit too far, and I toppled from my bunk after wildly clawing at my sheets, my duvet, anything that would have stopped me falling. I landed heavily on the floor with a loud, emphasised and drawn-out 'Fuuuuuuuuuuuck...'
Owch. FUCK! That really fucking hurt more than it motherfucking should have.
I opened my eyes after reflexively closing them when I fell, and I looked up. I could see that Pete - the darling that he is-
Okay, Patrick fucking Vaughn Stump, you really need to stop the cutesy shit with Pete right now.
Anyway, Pete was now sitting bolt upright with his feet on the floor, leaning over me, a worried expression on his face-of-average-beauty. Wiping his eyes hurriedly, he said, 'Trick, you okay?'
Andy wasn't so sympathetic. From the second I hit the floor, he burst out laughing, and was presently clutching his stomach, completely pissing himself. Yes, I'm fine Pete, and yeah I'm fine Andy, thank's for fucking caring so fucking much.
I nodded at Pete, and Andy managed to choke out, 'Yeah, Tricky, you alright?' He wasn't really asking - he didn't really give two shits in his sleep confused state - but he was only speaking to further take the piss out of Pete.
Pete seemed to have noticed this too: his face hardened and he grabbed his pillow, lobbing it as hard as he could at Andy's face. The pillow hit him, but Pete stood up anyway, his bottom lip trembling, and I saw his eyes well up again before he stormed from the bunk area and out of the door into the night.
'Who pissed in Petey's cheerios?' asked Andy innocently, looking down at me from over the top of Pete's pillow. Lucky fucker. I would have given anything to have Pete's pillow in my face, the sweet smell of the Lynx Africa that Pete always wore lingering in my nostrils and making my head buzz... Where was I? Oh yeah, I was pissed at Andy.
'You did, Andy. Now shut it and go back to sleep, you're still pished from last night.' I rolled my eyes at him, and struggled to my feet, grabbing Andy's face and pushing his head down onto his pillow before following Pete out of the bus.
'Pete?' I whispered. I looked around and my eyes fell upon a hunched, shaking figure in the darkness by the back of the bus. Stepping out onto the tarmac, I hopped quickly towards him after the bloody freezing ground reminded my feet that they probably shouldn't have ventured out bare. Slowing down to approach Pete slowly, I could hear short, quiet sobs and my heart jolted. 'Pete?' I repeated, and I placed a hand on his shaking shoulder.
He jumped slightly, and stepped away from my touch, wiping his eyes quickly and turning to face me, trying his best to compose himself. 'Patrick,' he said, looking at me with those delicious brown eyes of his. Curse you, Pete Wentz, causer of heart murmurs.
I rubbed my head, my strawberry blonde hair ruffling in the slight breeze, and my head felt slightly naked in the absence of one of my many hats. I'm telling you, slight breezes are nowhere near as good as their reputations. I shivered, but for a different reason than Pete. 'Pete, are you okay, man?'
He nodded once, and looked at the ground, trying his best to hold back tears that were threatening to resurface from deep within. Stupid question, Patrick, of course he's not fucking okay.
I reworded what I was trying to say. 'What's wrong?'
He didn't reply.
'Look, I'm sorry, Pete, I really am. It's just, I haven't had a full night's sleep in weeks, my brain's kinda fucked up right now.' And my heart is too; you're fucking it up. Thank fuck I didn't say that out loud.
'I'm sorry, Trick,' Pete mumbled. 'I don't try to wake you up. I can't help the screaming though; the dreams, they just scare me so much...' He trailed off, and he looked so adorably sad, that I stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.
'What is it that you dream of that makes you scream so much?' I asked softly, not wanting to upset him further.
'I- I don't remember... But it's always the same. And it scares the living shit outta me.' He shuddered in my arms, and I squeezed him tighter, his aroma making my head swim and I found myself smiling like a crackhead despite the situation.
'It'll be fine, Pete. They're just dreams, remember that. They can't hurt you.' I felt a sob shake his frame, and I tightened my grip on him, and I stood up on tiptoes so I could kiss his forehead comfortingly. ' I won't let them.'
Ohhhhh shiiiittt.... Okay, so that last part might've just slipped out, and holy fuck did I just kiss Pete's head? I could feel my face burning like one of Joe's fucking joints. Sweet mother of fuck, I was so fucking fucked.
That seems to be a nervous habit of mine; most people bite their nails or crack their necks when they're nervous. Me? I swear as much as fucking possible, fitting as many 'fuck's into a fucking sentence as I fucking can.
But instead of shoving me away, Pete just sniffled slightly before saying softly, 'Thanks, Trick. I know you won't.' I pulled back slightly to smile sheepishly at him.
He was gazing at me. Not looking, not glancing, gazing. And it sent my heart into frenzy mode. More like 'holy fuck Pete Wentz is gazing at me' mode. There were still tears glistening on his cheeks, and without hesitating, I lifted my hand to wipe them away, running my short, stubby fingers along Pete's delicate cheekbones.
Pete gave a quiet giggle, then he blushed brightly. Pete Wentz fucking blushing? How much more fucking adorable could this guy get? He smiled at me and said, 'You have really nice eyes, Patrick.'
My 'really nice' eyes opened wide at that, and my heart skipped almost painfully. We edged closer, our faces mere inches from each other. 'Well,' I breathed. 'You have really nice eyes too, Peter.'
He smirked. 'Don't call me Peter.'
I smirked too. 'Can I kiss you now?'
Woah, where the hell did that come from?
His eyes sparkled. 'Yeah.'
Screw that last, where the fuck did THAT come from?!
But I spent no time pondering my luck, and quickly closed the gap between us, pushing my lips onto his quickly and getting straight to the point. Pete smiled into the kiss, and so did I. Who would have thought. Little Patrick Stump and sex-god Pete Wentz. Well, clearly US.
After several minutes of blissful kissing which I was glad Joe and Andy didn't interrupt, we broke apart. Pete was beaming, but his smile on the outside was nowhere near as big as mine on the inside. I half laughed, grabbing Pete by the hand. 'C'mon, Petey. Bed time.'
I pulled him back inside the tour bus, our heads still spinning from the magic that just occurred, and we both padded back through to the bunks, where Joe was unsurprisingly still in the deepest darkest recesses of slumber.
But Andy jolted awake when he heard our footsteps. 'You guys okay?'
'Yep,' said Pete, grabbing his pillow that Andy was still unconsciously clutching and ducking into his bunk.
'Perfectly,' I said, nodding to him and climbing into bed.
Nodding, Andy lay back, totally unaware that I had just climbed into Pete's bunk instead of my own.
Now, it seemed, I was the lucky fucker, and yes, you can take that in any way you wish, you perv.
Pete wasn't going to be having any more nightmares any time soon.
There you are. How was that? Not too bad I hope. I did bump off two English essays and studying for a French exam to write this, so I hope it didn't suck. Please rate and review? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaase? :3 Thanking you!
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