Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Press Play

make you smile

by killxsmile 3 reviews

"If I could, I'd only wanna make you smile."

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Humor,Romance - Published: 2009-08-12 - Updated: 2009-08-12 - 1689 words

Author's Note: I'm pretty much terrible at updating...

redballoon: More adorability to come in this chapter.

somethingorother: You might get your wish...

tonytay113: Yep yep. Power outages made that romantic dinner possible.

chocolatechortle22: lol @ "black-outie."

doyleangel: To be honest, I kinda did forget about this story. I still love FOB like a fish loves water, but I'm not as interested in writing about them anymore. BUT I'm in love with the plot I've developed on this, so I'm going to do my best to keep the updates coming.



“I spy with my little eye, two things that are green,” Patrick said, handing the flashlight to me.

It had been an hour since finishing dinner, and we were still amused by this game. Skewing my mouth to the side, I used the flashlight to search the living room for green objects.

“Is one of them the pen on the coffee table?”


“The binding of The Grim Grotto?”


“The plant next to the TV?”


“Cap on the parmesan cheese?”

He shook his head and chuckled. “I don‘t think you‘re ever gonna guess…”

“Way to have faith in me,” I replied, playfully pushing his shoulder.

“Just saying,” he defended.

“Hmm…” I said, surveying the room once more. “Bailey’s food bowl?”

“That’s still a no.”

“Apple on the counter?”


“Unripe banana?”


“Chiquita sticker on the unripe banana?”

“No, but that was a really good observation.”

Taking one last sweep of the room, my mind drew a blank.

“I can’t think of anything else…”

“Give up?”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “What were you spying?”

“Your eyes…”

With a shy smile, he bit his lip.

Jesus, this boy is adorable.

As he tentatively leaned toward me, bullet-sized hummingbirds began fluttering around my stomach. Patrick sensed my apprehension, and took my hand into his.

“I’m kinda nervous, too,” he quietly admitted.

Smiling, I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Our noses grazed as we slowly leaned toward one another. His warm breath mixed with mine as our mouths met in a sweet kiss. And though our lips were locked, neither of us was thinking about finding keys.

We eventually pulled away from each other, and as we did so, the apartment lights coincidentally flickered on.

Then they went out just as quickly.

“Wow. That was weird,” Patrick said, half-laughing, half sighing.

“The kiss or the lights?” I playfully asked.

“The lights,” he said, putting an arm around my shoulder. “The kiss was wow.”

We each let out a chuckle before our lips met once again. Smiling, Patrick and I pulled away from each other and saw that our flashlight had gone out.

“Have any more batteries?”

“Yeah. Help me find them?”


He took my hand in his and carefully led me out of the living room. After climbing a flight of stairs and taking a few steps, Patrick informed me that we’d reached his room.

“So where do we start looking?”

“The closet. There‘s an emergency kit with batteries and a radio somewhere in there, but I couldn‘t find it earlier.”

“How big is it?”

“About the size of a shoebox.”

I found what felt like a photo album, a tennis racket, a pair of boots and an accordion, but no emergency kit.

“Any luck?” I asked.

“Didn‘t find the batteries, but I think I found stuff that will help with our lighting situation.”

Quiet wooshing sounds were followed by button clicks.

“Are those Episode 3 light sabers?” I asked as the objects respectively emitted red and green neon glows.


“Count Dooku and Obiwan, right?”

“How did you know?” he asked, handing the green one to me.

“The handles are different than Yoda and Vader’s.”

“You’re into Star Wars?”

“I’m not a jedi yet, but I’m no padawan either.”

“Is it weird that I find that really sexy?”

“Not at all,” I said, chuckling. “Believe it or not, I actually have a little crush on Yoda.”

“Wow,” he said, laughing.

“What? He’s cute, green and talks using inverted syntax. Plus he can kick sith ass,” I said, yawning mid-sentence.


“Sort of,” I replied. “What time is it?”

“1:41,” he said, looking at his watch.

“It’s kind of late… I think I should probably be getting home.”

“I know I’m gonna come off sounding really forward, but I’d feel a lot better if you stayed here until the power came back on. The traffic lights still aren’t working and I‘d feel really guilty if I didn’t get you home safely,” he said, concern apparent in his voice.

“I don’t want to intrude or anything...”

“No, no. I insist.”


“Seriously, it’s fine. You can take the bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”

“I’ll take the couch, Patrick,” I said, feeling guilty.

“You’re the guest. You take the bed.”

I laugh/sighed.

“You’re really persistent.”

“Well, I really like you,” he simply replied.

Smiling, I looked up at him.

“Since you put it that way, I guess I could take the bed.”


“Wait, you probably want something to sleep in, right?” he asked.

“Um, if you don’t mind…”

“Oh, it’s no problem. I think Pete left some clothes here that you could wear.”

He walked over to his dresser and handed me a Clandestine t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

“Thank you,” I said taking a seat on the side of his bed.

“Don’t worry about it,“ he said, slipping his hand into mine and taking a seat next beside me.

Though I tried to keep it in, a tired yawn escaped my lips once again.

“Well I’ve kept you up for long enough, so I’ll let you get some sleep,” he said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Goodnight, Juliet.”

“Night, Patrick.”

Quietly, he got up and made his way to the door, closing it behind him.

I set the light saber onto the bed, then changed into the clothes he had given me. After slipping underneath the covers, I turned off the neon glow and quickly fell asleep.

As sunshine seeped in through the blinds, I noticed Bailey pacing back and forth at the side of the bed.

“What’s up?” I asked, voice still raspy from sleep. He wagged his tail and headed toward the door. But instead of leaving, he took a seat and looked back as if he wanted me to follow him.

After running a hand through my hair, I swung my feet off the side of the bed and got up. Bailey stood up as well, but waited for me before continuing down the stairs.

Upon passing the living room, I noticed that Patrick was still asleep on the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest. I swear, he couldn’t stop being cute even if he tried.

Still following the yellow Labrador, I found myself in the kitchen once again. Bailey quickly pawed at one of the lower cabinets then nudged his food bowl toward me.

“I’m guessing that your breakfast is in there.”

Surely enough, when I opened the cabinet there was a bag of PurinaOne on the other side. Not wanting to wake Patrick for such a simple task, I filled the ceramic dish with kibble.

Watching him eat, I wondered if I should start on breakfast.

“Do you think Patrick would mind if I cooked something up?”

The dog looked up from his bowl and seemed to shake his head.

“So I should make something?”

He nodded as his tongue lolled at the side of his mouth.


Opening the fridge, I saw bread, a couple boxes of takeout, a gallon of milk, some soda, a carton of eggs and some random vegetables and fruits.

Skewing my mouth to the side, I wondered what I could make. French toast and omelets would work…

After grabbing the ingredients, I washed my hands and got to work. Who would have thought job experience at IHOP would come in handy?

20 minutes later, I found myself singing/scooping the second omelet onto a plate.

“If I could, I’d only wanna make you smile if you wanna stay with me a while…”

Bailey took a seat at the foot of the table and looked up at me with the same expression Bella had whenever I cooked anything with fish. Chuckling, I tossed him a corner of my French toast. He happily barked after scarfing it down.

“Quiet, Bailey. You‘re gonna wake up Juliet,” Patrick said, entering the room while rubbing his eyes.
“I’m already up.”
“Oh, hey. Good morning,” he said, yawning.

When his gaze fell upon the table, he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Wait, you made breakfast?”

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind…”

“No, not at all. This looks really good,” he said, taking a seat. “I‘m beginning to think you‘re a cook or something.”

“Well, I’m kind of a chef at a restaurant…”

“Jeez, no wonder you’re such a whiz at the stove.”

I blushed, not knowing what to say.

As I put the pan into the sink, he waited for me at the table. After running some water, I took a seat across from him.

“This is really good,” Patrick said, after taking a bite of the French toast.

Internally, I let out a sigh of relief.

“Glad you like it.”

After we finished the rest of our meals, Patrick placed our dishes in the sink.

“Do you have any plans for today?” he asked.

“Well, I have to get to work in an hour,” I replied, skewing my mouth to the side.

“Cool, I’ll drive you.”


“But before we go, I have a question,” he said, standing up. “Do you get to wear one of those cool chef’s hats?”

“Sadly, no,” I said, smiling. “But I do have a cool jacket with my name on it.”


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