Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Put Your Ear to the Speaker
"Mmm."
You blink and sit up, your eyes searching around you for proof of where you were. You remembered going to a concert and maybe going home, but your head hurt painfully. You then remember your surroundings. You were on Fall Out Boy's tour bus.
A few other bodies hovered around you; Pete, Andy, and even Dirty (you couldn't really remember when he got there). They were asleep, don't worry. All snoring like content creatures.
Man, it was really cold. You put your arms to your shoulders to hug yourself and then blink down at yourself.
"Oh, God."
Last night you'd been wearing a The Hush Sound T-shirt and jeans, with a pair of black Converses and your red hair had been pulled into a ponytail, straightened.
Shocker: not anymore.
Shivering, you get up slowly and comprehend the bus was actually moving. Someone must be driving it, you thought, and get up to look at a mirror. You bite your lip a little too hard at the realization of what you were wearing.
A Clandestine Industries trucker hat type thing was on your head, your hair was down. A matching black tie hanging around your neck (hint: the only thing on your shoulders). A super-small tube top clung to your torso. When you pulled some of it off your stomach, it snapped back and hit you like a elastic. Ow. You reminded yourself not to do that again.
Everything else was your own: the black boy shorts. And that was it.
You rub your eyes, thinking, What the heck had happened last night that you'd missed out on? You get up slowly and found your jeans. You pulled them on, sliding the Clandestine belt you'd been wearing through the loops. You removed the hat, tie, and top, and switched them out for your own clothes, throwing them on the floor like everything else on the bus.
You blink some more and start walking throughout the bus. Two rooms were off to the side (you had a good idea of who was in there), and someone was driving the bus, of course. You had been in the rather small kitchen, and you approached the front of the bus. Charlie was driving it.
"Good morning," he said without looking at you. You move up to the passenger seat, yawning at the bright sunlight.
He looked over at you and started laughing. "I see you found your clothes," he said, grinning. You couldn't see his eyes; they were hidden by the white framed Clandestine sunglasses.
"Yeah, thanks for pointing them out," you said, unsmiling. "Where are we?"
"Well, right now, we are at Hess." The bus pulled to a stop.
"I can see," you say, looking out the side window. You crossed your arms. "What city, may I ask?"
"The same one. Don't worry, we won't kidnap you," he said with a smile. "I was driving around to wait until one of you partiers woke up." He glanced back at the kitchen. Pete started murmuring and turned over, almost smacking Dirty in the head with his fist.
"Oh. Thanks. I guess," you respond, yawning again. You cross your legs and hug your shoulders.
"I have a question."
"Shoot."
"What exactly happened last night, Mr. C?" you ask, biting your lip nervously, hoping there weren't more pictures on Pete's SK3.
He chuckled. "They always want to know. But what they don't know doesn't hurt them..." He looks at you. Well, you think he is, you can't exactly see his eyes.
"Do you really want to know?"
You nod. If any of this leaked out on the Net, you actually wanted to know it first...not like that other incident we won't mention now.
"Well..."
"Sup Mr. C? Kathleen?"
You turn around, groaning. Pete had snuck up behind both of you. You wondered what he'd heard. As if in answer, he laughed. "No."
You blink. Maybe he could read your mind. You then turned to Charlie. His eyes on the road, he pulled out of the Hess station silently, ignoring your gaze.
"So, did you sleep good?" Pete asked, trying to coax you to the kitchen. He looked amazing, you think, then slap yourself mentally.
"Yes," you answer, puzzled. Something bad HAD to have happened last night. He wouldn't ask you if you slept good if something bad didn't happen.
"Me too," he said, leaning in, kissing your mouth. As he pulled away, yours opened, as if you were going to say something, but he put his finger to your lips.
"Don't ask what happened," he said, "only stay with what's going on now."
You blink and sit up, your eyes searching around you for proof of where you were. You remembered going to a concert and maybe going home, but your head hurt painfully. You then remember your surroundings. You were on Fall Out Boy's tour bus.
A few other bodies hovered around you; Pete, Andy, and even Dirty (you couldn't really remember when he got there). They were asleep, don't worry. All snoring like content creatures.
Man, it was really cold. You put your arms to your shoulders to hug yourself and then blink down at yourself.
"Oh, God."
Last night you'd been wearing a The Hush Sound T-shirt and jeans, with a pair of black Converses and your red hair had been pulled into a ponytail, straightened.
Shocker: not anymore.
Shivering, you get up slowly and comprehend the bus was actually moving. Someone must be driving it, you thought, and get up to look at a mirror. You bite your lip a little too hard at the realization of what you were wearing.
A Clandestine Industries trucker hat type thing was on your head, your hair was down. A matching black tie hanging around your neck (hint: the only thing on your shoulders). A super-small tube top clung to your torso. When you pulled some of it off your stomach, it snapped back and hit you like a elastic. Ow. You reminded yourself not to do that again.
Everything else was your own: the black boy shorts. And that was it.
You rub your eyes, thinking, What the heck had happened last night that you'd missed out on? You get up slowly and found your jeans. You pulled them on, sliding the Clandestine belt you'd been wearing through the loops. You removed the hat, tie, and top, and switched them out for your own clothes, throwing them on the floor like everything else on the bus.
You blink some more and start walking throughout the bus. Two rooms were off to the side (you had a good idea of who was in there), and someone was driving the bus, of course. You had been in the rather small kitchen, and you approached the front of the bus. Charlie was driving it.
"Good morning," he said without looking at you. You move up to the passenger seat, yawning at the bright sunlight.
He looked over at you and started laughing. "I see you found your clothes," he said, grinning. You couldn't see his eyes; they were hidden by the white framed Clandestine sunglasses.
"Yeah, thanks for pointing them out," you said, unsmiling. "Where are we?"
"Well, right now, we are at Hess." The bus pulled to a stop.
"I can see," you say, looking out the side window. You crossed your arms. "What city, may I ask?"
"The same one. Don't worry, we won't kidnap you," he said with a smile. "I was driving around to wait until one of you partiers woke up." He glanced back at the kitchen. Pete started murmuring and turned over, almost smacking Dirty in the head with his fist.
"Oh. Thanks. I guess," you respond, yawning again. You cross your legs and hug your shoulders.
"I have a question."
"Shoot."
"What exactly happened last night, Mr. C?" you ask, biting your lip nervously, hoping there weren't more pictures on Pete's SK3.
He chuckled. "They always want to know. But what they don't know doesn't hurt them..." He looks at you. Well, you think he is, you can't exactly see his eyes.
"Do you really want to know?"
You nod. If any of this leaked out on the Net, you actually wanted to know it first...not like that other incident we won't mention now.
"Well..."
"Sup Mr. C? Kathleen?"
You turn around, groaning. Pete had snuck up behind both of you. You wondered what he'd heard. As if in answer, he laughed. "No."
You blink. Maybe he could read your mind. You then turned to Charlie. His eyes on the road, he pulled out of the Hess station silently, ignoring your gaze.
"So, did you sleep good?" Pete asked, trying to coax you to the kitchen. He looked amazing, you think, then slap yourself mentally.
"Yes," you answer, puzzled. Something bad HAD to have happened last night. He wouldn't ask you if you slept good if something bad didn't happen.
"Me too," he said, leaning in, kissing your mouth. As he pulled away, yours opened, as if you were going to say something, but he put his finger to your lips.
"Don't ask what happened," he said, "only stay with what's going on now."
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