FicWad

Disclaimer:: I don't own Peter, Brendon, Red Bull, or Ren and Stimpy. As far as I know, this never happened. Although, if it had, how amazing would that be?



Pete Wentz died the other day.

Well, he died in his dream, anyway.

He is now convinced that he's going to die in real life as well.

You see, he found some bogus website about a week ago that claimed that it's nearly impossible to die in a dream...some old guy that was supposedly a fancy Native American doctor that said if you died in your dream it meant you would die in real life soon.

However, I've died in my dreams lots of times, and I'm still alive and kicking (much to the dismay of my mother). So I tried to convince him it was just that he was so decided that he was never going to die in any of his dreams that he was thinking about it, and therefore dreaming about it, making it meaningless.

Of course, he didn't listen to me. Well, that's not true, he did listen to me, he just didn't believe me. He informed me that it still counted. Eventually I rolled my eyes and realized that he wasn't going to believe me no matter how many times I told him that he was not going to die.

He died in his sleep in the dream (which I informed him was more rare than dying, because I never sleep in dreams), therefore he hasn't slept in three days. Which really isn't all that strange, but instead of trying to sleep, he's trying not to.

Instead he's been sitting in the living room of our apartment, watching infomercials and old episodes of Ren & Stimpy and drinking Red Bull.

It's now three in the morning, and I haven't been able to get to sleep myself. I hear him crack open yet another energy drink, and laugh at something on the television.

There. That ought to get him to come in here...I just moaned loudly. Now he'll have to come in to find out whether I'm jacking off, or if something's wrong with me. And sure enough, less than a minute later I heard him mute the TV and stand up.

"Brenny?"

He's standing in the doorway, and I choke back a laugh. He sounds so utterly disoriented, and the best part is that he probably doesn't even realize it.

"Peeeete," I whine, sitting up, "Will you please come to bed? You're not going to die, I promise."

He sighed, coming over and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"But Bden, the doctor said I would! He's like Nostradamus! He's never been wrong!" Peter protested, kissing my forehead.

"Pete, honey, that shit's just to scare you into believing you'll die if you don't talk to him, so that you give them your credit card number..." I said absently, scooting closer to him and putting my arm around his shoulders.

He shifted uncomfortably for a second, and I sighed.

"Peter, did you give them our credit card numbers?" I asked, defeated.

"I had to, Brenny! I don't want to die! The doctor said that I would if I didn't listen to his advice! Are you saying that you aren't willing to pay thirty dollars a month to keep me alive!?" His mouth dropped open, and he took on a very hurt expression.

I laughed. "Pete, darling. You aren't going to die for a very long time. And even when you do eventually die, it's not going to be because you didn't give some nutcase your credit card number."

He nodded. "I know! It isn't going to be because of that! Because I did give him the number!"

"Ohh, Peter..." I rolled my eyes and hugged him. "Look, how about this? You try and sleep one night, alright? And if by some ridiculous measure of fate, you happen to die in your sleep, you can come back as a ghost and beat me up or something, okay?"

He sighed. "I'm not going to beat you up...besides, I couldn't. Ghosts can't touch humans."

I giggled at him, and pushed him back onto the bed, pulling the blankets up over us.

"Just give me one night, okay? I promise you won't die. And if you do, you can stay up for the rest of your life." I said, snuggling closer to him.

"Brendon, that makes absolutely no sense at all." He responded, wrapping his arms around me.

I rolled my eyes, "Dude, it's three thirty in the fucking morning. I don't have to make sense."

He laughed, "I love you."

I smiled, kissing him gently. "I love you too, PeterPanda."

He was asleep within five minutes, snoring loudly just like always...

And needless to say, he woke up the next morning not even almost dead.