Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Kerosene

A Love For Argyle

by chicago_fire 0 reviews

On to Patrick's house we go!

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Humor,Romance - Published: 2010-10-18 - Updated: 2010-10-18 - 1596 words

AN: Hey y'all. I'm sorry I haven't been updating lately, Ive been suffering major writers block. But it ends now! I hope you like it! More to come soon, I promise. rate and review it keeps me going! love- celeste :D

~[Celeste POV]~

I looked around the house, it was big and gorgeous. I let my backpack and jacket fall to the floor and decided to walk around. The other two just kinda copied me but went in different directions. I was walking into what I thought to be the family room. Pictures were strewn across the walls. Family photos, a signed Sinatra poster, baby pictures. Oh my god, pictures of him in a bunny suit. God! I wish I could take that for blackmail! Seeing all the pictures, I came to realize he had a pretty lucky childhood. Except the fact that his mom slowly drifted out of them one by one. She must have left. I knew how that felt, to have a parent leave. In my dad's case it was good riddance. I wondered what had happened to his mom. Maybe another night, another conversation. I know people don't tend to open up too much about those sorts of things. I didn't. I continued to wander around the room, looking at Patrick as a little kid.

"Which one are you looking at?"

"Holy shit, Patrick. You scared me." He had ninjaed his way into the room.


" It's fine. I was looking at that one--" I paused to point. "You on the tricycle, it's cute."

"Oh, yeah. That's my dad's favorite."

"Cool. So what happened to the other two?"

"Upstairs, my room. Want to come or tour the house a bit more?"

"I'll go with you." I wanted to laugh because why would I turn down a chance to be with him. He was much too adorable to pass up.

"Okay, follow me."

We walked and found the staircase, leading to a few rooms. I assumed the one plastered with posters was his. I was right when I followed him in. I was curious though. The other two rooms were shut. Pete was already shuffling through his music collection, and Joe was examining Star Wars posters.

"Just take a seat, anywhere. Doesn't matter."

I scanned the room for a place to sit, which was easy. Surprisingly, for a boy, his room was spotless. Pete and Joe were going to leave it a wreck no doubt. Patrick sat in his gamer chair and I decided to sit on the beanbag in between Pete and Patrick.

"So, you play drums. Where are they, then?” Joe asked. I was curious, too.

”Oh, they’re in the basement, along with the other instruments my dad plays.”

“Nice, what’s he play?” I ask, trying to ease my way into the conversation.

“Piano, drums, ukulele, cello, bass and electric guitar. There’s a lot more but I can’t name them all.”

“Damn, quite the music man.” I laughed nervously, hoping he didn’t notice the shake in my voice. What the hell? Get a grip, girl. You’ve got two other people in the room, no need to be nervous.

“Yeah, you could definitely say that. He taught me how to play when I was younger. Piano and drums, I never really took an interest in any others.”

“Nice, can we see the basement?” Pete asked the question I had wanted to. Funnily enough, we were in tune with each other like that.

“Yeah sure, my dad’s probably down there writing. I hope you guys don’t care.”

“Nah, its cool.” Pete answered and I shrugged and smiled.

“What does your dad do?” I asked as we were shuffling down the stairs.

“He’s a composer, and he writes jingles for commercials.”

“Cool, what kinda music did he write? Anything famous?” Joe asked.

“Well, when he was younger he played under the composer of the original Star Wars. You could say that’s famous.” I laughed at Joe’s reaction. Joe LOVED Star Wars.

“I’m in love. I’m in love with Patrick’s dad. This is so wrong, yet so right. Maybe he can connect me to The Force.” All three of us burst into laughter.

“Well, lucky you Joe. He’s divorced. You have a shot.” Patrick joked as we reached the basement.

It was beautiful. Plush carpet, gold records on the walls. I noticed a few miscellaneous awards and plaques. Patrick wasn’t joking. His dad was the real deal. I heard the strum of a guitar. He was somewhere near. In front of me, I noticed all the different instruments. There were guitars lining one wall, a keyboard, an organ, a synthesizer, and some bongo drums. Some I had no clue what they were. I was scanning the room and I didn’t see Patrick’s drums. The guys just kinda roamed around the room.

“Patrick? Is that you and your friends?”

“Yeah, dad. It’s us.”

“Then bring them on in here!”

“Uhm, do you want to meet my dad?”

“Sure.” I answered.

“Yeah, that’s cool. I think you know how Jewfro feels about it.” Pete laughed.

“Okay then.” Patrick had the cutest laugh. I followed right behind him, the others behind me. We walked into another room connected. There was a man, oddly dressed in a sweater vest, shorts and argyle socks, wearing headphones. Well, at least I knew a love for argyle ran in the family. When he saw our approach he removed them.

“Hey, kids. I’m Patrick’s dad, David.”

“Dad, this is Pete. That’s Joe, and this is Celeste.”

“Trickster, you didn’t tell me you had a girl with you.” He tried to keep his voice low, but so failed.

“Dad! Shut up!” He said through gritted teeth. He was blushing and so frustrated. The guys just chuckled. I giggled and tried not to blush.

“Sorry about that, Celeste.”

“Ohhh! Celeste! The neighbor’s daughter! She showed you around school!”

“Yes, dad. That’s her.”

“Charmed. I hope the son and I get to know you and your mom better tonight.” David smiled to me.

“Likewise.” I seemed calm, but dear god, I wasn’t. I just knew my mom would embarrass me.

“Have you shown them your drums yet?”

“No, I should do that. C’mon guys.” I could tell he wanted away from his dad, due to the fact he was still slightly blushing. He walked and we followed back to the other room, then to another, that was curtained at the door. Patrick lifted it and let us in first. There it was. The nicest set of drums I’d ever seen.

“There they are.”

“You are. So. Lucky.” Pete managed to get out.

“Not really. I had to pay for them myself. Most expensive thing I own.”

“I bet you worked really hard.” I said circling them.

“Oh yeah, a whole year working in a record store, non stop. It was worth it though.”

“Can we hear you play?” Joe asked. He seemed hesitant. I wanted to hear too, so I decided to give him a little push.

“Yeah, can we? I want to hear.” I begged sweetly.

“Okay, yeah sure. Joe can you toss me my sticks? They’re behind you.” I lit up as Joe threw them to him and Patrick sat down. I looked to Pete. He looked a little skeptical for some reason I was unaware of. Patrick took his sticks and tapped them together three times and started to play. At first it was a slow, standard beat, then his pace began to quicken. Before I knew it he was pounding the bass and snare drums in perfect and infectious rhythm, and breaking a sweat. He was really good. Wow. He must have played for like twenty minutes. He drummed one last roll, and finished.

“How’s that?” He smiled and I couldn’t help but clap.

“Holy crap, man. Where did you get such mad skills?” Pete asked, surprised.

“Yeah, seriously.” Joe added.

“I don’t know. I’ve been playing since I was like seven years old. Practice makes perfect, that’s what Dad always says.”

“No, I think practice makes amazing, in your case.” I said. He rose and walked over to a mini fridge grabbing a bottle of water.

“Thanks, that means a lot to me.” He opened the water, and chugged some. When he played I could tell he put all of himself into it.

“Dude, Joe. Think how awesome it would be to have him drum for us?!” Pete beamed.

“I think we would make people cream their jeans at our awesomeness.”

“I did not need that visual. Ugh.” I laughed, slightly grossed out.

“You still need a vocalist, if I agree to jam with you.”

“You’re right.” Pete looked to me the same time Joe did. Patrick stood looking at the guys.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“C’mon Celeste. Sing for us. Pleaseee?” Pete begged.

“No, I suck.”

“You do not.” Joe opposed.

“See, two people who think you don’t suck.” Pete said.

“I’d like to hear you sing. But if you’re too nervous or whatever it’s cool.” Patrick said. I felt like he was challenging me.

“I’m not nervous at all.”

“Then sing! Please! Please! I’ll beg if I have to! I’ll get on my knees!”

“Although that would be funny, fine. I won’t torture you like that. I’ll sing.”
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