FicWad

Chicago, Illinois

"Thank you very much! Be sure to cop On Top Of Our Game!" And with that, Jamal Willingham, A.K.A. Pimpin, left the stage. The members of DFB were tired. They had been going on strong ever since the afternoon, and it was time for a well deserved break. They could kick back and go to a hotel to enjoy some room service, weed smoking, and the occasional groupie. Maybe if they felt like it, they could ask for some more studio time with Jermaine Dupri. Yeah. They could record some tracks that they would consider using for their third album. Something like that.

Pimpin' made his way backstage. Everyone was congratulating the members of DFB for such a banging performance. They always killed it, and sent their audiences into some sort of hip-hop driven euphoria.

Bernard Leverette, A.K.A. Jizzal Man, shook Jermaine Dupri's hand.

"Yo ass killed it out there, man. Makes me proud that I signed y'all. Keep killin' it like that, and we gon' be friends for life, nigga!" JD gave Bernard another handshake, and then he turned around to give some the same accolades to Jamal, who he hadn't seen yet.

"Yo nigga, we straight killed it. I mean, seriously. I'm sure niggas is thinkin' about what the hell they gon' do right about now. I mean, don't even get me started on dem D4L niggas." Gerald Tiller, A.K.A. Buddie, said to Bernard.

Oh, yes. The infamous DFB vs. D4L beef. The snap dance that everyone is so enthralled with was the cause. See, DFB and D4L are fighting over who came out with the dance first. Ask D4L, and they'll tell you that DFB is lying. Ask DFB, and they'll tell you D4L is lying. The only reason that there are such comparisons between the two is because they both hail from Atlanta.

So whether or not the fight will be squashed soon is uncertain. We just don't want a repeat of Biggie and Tupac. Nobody does.

The crowd was seemingly growing with all the people giving props to DFB for such a job well done at their last stop in Illinois.

Guess who pops in out of nowhere?

Patrick Stump was making his way through the crowd of baggy jeans, white tees, and DFB logo tees. He gave handshakes to some of the dudes he knew, but he was there to show love to DFB, too, just like everyone else.

The first one who noticed that Patrick was there was Maurice Gleaton, A.K.A. Parlae.

"Hey, dere goes dat boy!" He walked over and gave Patrick a handshake.

"What up, playa?" Maurice greeted Patrick. Patrick laughed and said, "Nothing much. I heard you guys really killed it out there." Maurice laughed a cocky laugh. "Man, not only did we kill it, we buried it!"

Patrick and Maurice laughed, and then Jamal greeted Patrick. They were insanely tight.

"What up, P?" Jamal greeted Patrick. Patrick smiled. "Nothing! Congrats! I heard the turnout was amazing." Jamal lifted his baseball cap off his head and then put it back on, since his head was sweating.

"Yeah. Venue was straight packed. But I'm sure you used to dat shit, too, right?" Patrick laughed. He didn't wanna sound cocky. I mean, yes, Fall Out Boy was the basically the shit when it came to rock, but he was still humble about his situation.

"Well......." Patrick made a face like he was thinking.

"Come on, P! You know you feel like you on top of da world. But you sho'll as hell don't act like it!"

Patrick couldn't help it. That was just the way he was. He was the uncontested "shy boy" of Fall Out Boy, and he liked it that way. He just loved to sing his cute little ass off, and it didn't hurt that he made money as well, but he was just a normal dude.

"I know I don't act like it," Patrick said to his shoes. "I guess I'm just one of those people who acts like he doesn't really wanna be famous."

Jamal laughed. "You is one of dem people! Look," Jamal put his hand on Patrick's shoulder. "You crack me up, P. Speakin' of P, where's Pete? Didn't he say he was bringin' his ass on?"

Patrick shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know where the hell he was. Pete was so unpredictable...

"I dunno where he is." Patrick adjusted his baseball cap. Anyone who loves FOB or just Patrick knows that that boy don't EVER take off his hat. If he does, it's a hella rare moment.

"Yeah, I figured. Dat boy be all over da place." Jamal cracked his knuckles and looked over Patrick. It's possible to do this. Patrick is only around 5'4.

"Hold up, man," Jamal walked away from Patrick. Patrick wasted no time in giving handshakes to the rest of DFB, and then to JD.

When Jamal came back, he was walking and talking with Pete. Jamal thought he saw one of his boys walk around the corner, and so he checked out the scene. Lo and behold, he bumped into Pete, wearing his black Clandestine hoodie and some tight girls jeans, as usual, and some black slip-on Vans.

"Look who I just bumped into!" Jamal said to Patrick. Patrick and Pete hugged. "Hey, man. I thought you weren't coming!"

Pete ended up giving handshakes to DFB and JD and a few others before he finally answered Patrick's question.

"Car broke down. We had to get another one." Patrick nodded in understanding. He pushed the nosepiece of his glasses to get them further onto his face. "How are Andy and Joe doing?"

Pete nodded. "They're good. Andy's still in Milwaukee, and Joe is in Florida. I called 'em before I came over, and they're doing well."

Patrick nodded. "That's good." Jamal tapped Pete and said, "Y'all wanna come get some chicken and waffles wit us? I mean, that is if y'all ain't busy or whateva. I'm hungry like a mafucka." Jamal rubbed his stomach to emphasize his point.

Patrick and Pete shrugged their shoulders and said in unison, "Sure." Jamal cracked his knuckles again. "Cool. Just lemme get dese other niggas and den we can be out."

Patrick and Pete waited until Jamal got everyone else from DFB.

Jamal came back over to where Pete and Patrick were. "Aight. Let's be out dis bitch."