In which Patrick does some thinking and accidentally starts a sex riot.
Patrick Stump was a new man.
Okay, he felt like a new man, at least. Fall Out Boy was back, and gone were his insecurities about himself and his career that had plagued him all through the beginnings of the band and throughout his solo venture with Soul Punk. The start of Fall Out Boy hadn't been the best for his confidence as girls flocked to his best friend Pete and often ignored the awkward fat guy with sideburns at the mic. Increased media was also terribly destructive for a guy who was barely out of high school, but he had dealt with it. Touring for Folie Á Deux had been extremely tolling on the whole band, what with the negative reception from critics and audiences, and combined with the angry "fan" response from his tour for Soul Punk, Patrick's self-esteem had kind of hit the dumps.
It had been a difficult couple years, but with the help of his wife Elisa and his bandmates/best friends back by his side, Patrick felt like he could conquer anything. Nothing could bring him down.
Until that one show in New York.
"I LOVE YOU PATRICK!" was a phrase that he had never heard the female fans scream at the top of their lungs until tonight. It was coming from everywhere, it felt like, as the band walked onto the stage and prepped their instruments. Everywhere he looked, girls screamed and fainted at his gaze. Confused gaze, but apparently sexy gaze nonetheless.
"Hey, guys," he said into the microphone as he adjusted his guitar strap. He got an unbelievably loud, high pitched response from what he was now considering a mostly female audience. "We're Fall Out Boy, and we're glad to be back. This song is our favorite to cover, are you ready to hear it?"
They went on to play Thriller, then several favorites from their albums. As they finished "I Don't Care," Patrick smiled and turned around to get his water bottle. Pete started playing the bass intro to "Where Did The Party Go" and turned around to exchange some words with his lead singer.
"Hey man," Pete said, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. "You doing alright?"
Patrick looked over at Andy, who was already tapping out the bass drum line and giving him a thumbs up. Joe was interacting with the crowd, getting them pumped and having them clap their hands to the beat. Patrick turned back to Pete and smiled.
"Never been better," he responded.
He returned to his position at the mic and that was when he noticed the first bra.
It wasn't an intimidating thing. Plain black, not that lacy or strappy or anything, nestled comfortably around the base of his microphone stand. It was his first bra of the night, and the crowd was cheering and laughing, but what they didn't know was that it was his first bra ever.
The guys knew something was up when Patrick didn't come in with the lyrics on time, but as soon as they glanced over at his point of fixation and horrible fascination, they knew.
He picked up the bra. Oh my god...
"Um." He sounded awkward as fuck, but he knew no other response to this. "Is anyone missing a bra?" he asked the crowd.
They screamed so loudly he thought he would soon go deaf. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Pete doing what can only be described as a facepalm.
His question had the opposite response desired. More bras flew at him.
"Agghhh fu-" Patrick was cut off as one hit him squarely in the face. As he removed it in order to restore vision and ability to speak/breathe, his cheeks went as red as the lacy satin that lay in his hands.
The song intro halted, but the bras did not. They continued assaulting the singer from almost every angle, along with panties and the lines "MARRY ME PATRICK!" "I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES!" And so on and so forth.
In the midst of the chaos, Patrick had time to ponder. Why was this happening now, all of a sudden? He was never the one to have ladies' underwear thrown at him. It was always Pete, the hot one in the band, the one that girls put posters up of in their rooms and swooned over and probably masturbated to.
But that's beside the point.
Pete was older now. He was different from the "glory days" of Fall Out Boy, when he had fantastic emo hair and wore gratuitous eyeliner, often resulting in the androgynous look that many girls find attractive. What was Patrick? He was the fat one with the glasses. Except Patrick was older now too, and Pete had shorter hair and a kid and no eyeliner and was approaching 34 and Patrick was thinner now and gone were the sideburns and low self esteem.
All of this occurred to him as bras went everywhere.
Oh, god, he thought in horror, am I starting a sex riot by accident?
Girls climbed up onto the stage half naked and screaming, and it wasn't long until Patrick began screaming and attempted to run to safety. Silly Patrick. He didn't know that you can't run from fangirls.
And so the fangirls tackled him and kissed his face and tried to rip off his clothes as his bandmates called security and watched in horror. Luckily, Patrick was wearing many layers of cardigans which were hard to remove so the rabid fans were unable to violate him too severely. The burly security guys eventually removed all the girls and helped the traumatized lead singer back to his position, where the band resumed playing the show.
Say what you want about Fall Out Boy, but they're perseverant.
Backstage after the show, the band had group meeting. It was established that Patrick was alright and that he could continue the tour.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he reassured them. "I just don't know what to do with all this." He gestured to their makeshift couch that they were sitting on, which was actually a heap of bras and underwear.
A/N: I haven't been on here for awhile, but I'm planning on writing stories again and posting more often. You could say this is my comeback, or whatever. I will admit that since I left I have become a fan of Fall Out Boy, and although I'm pretty new to the fanbase this is my attempt at a silly FOB oneshot. (Okay honestly though I'm just procrastinating and wrote this piece of crap.)