FicWad

Heya! I'm new to this site and of course, a fan of FOB. So I thought I'd write a story about them. Of course, I only own anyone you don't recognise. Anyways, reviews are welcome! Please be nice :)


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"Did you order Chinese?" Pete asks as he walks into the tour bus.

I nod. He says thanks, then proceeds to enter the small kitchen and rummage through the fridge, finally finding himself a bottle of water. Patrick, Joe and Andy also enter the bus, various greetings thrown in my direction, a special "'Sup bitch?" from Joe. I merely call him a dickhead and return back to reading my magazine.

So, I guess you want an introduction. Who am I? My name is Rachel. How old am I? In a week I'll be twenty three. Why am I on the Fall Out Boy tour bus, reading a magazine and dressed in flannels and a singlet, sipping a coffee and previously just had a quickie with the Pete Wentz before he went on stage and tore it up like that gorgeous boy he is?

Sounds like I own the joint, doesn't it? Well, point for me.

But, I don't own the joint. I'm that girl. That girl. You know, the one that no one knows in the gossip magazines, who think I'm the new toy for the rocker? Well, let's say that I'm not exactly the toy, more like one of the merchandise people who got offered a good time.

And not that sort of good time.

Don't be so dirty! Ha.

Although, I guess occasionally sleeping with one of the band members is a bonus. One. So, that doesn't make me a whore or groupie. I don't dress like Paris and I don't jump anything with a penis. I just have the added bonus that me, Rachel Eves, have occasional sex with the bassist.

Only twice though.

And it's been almost a year since I got brought onto here!

"Hey Rach, did you see Joe almost fall off the stage?" Andy asked while stripping his sweaty shirt off and putting a new one on. The boy is like a rainbow with all those tattoos. If it weren't for the media, no one would have guessed the boy is a vegan. If I personally didn't know him, or of him, I would think he's a crazy-ass motherfucker. Excuse my language.

I nodded, "Haha, I sure did. I was by the side, and the fans outside who were close enough kept giving me funny looks."

"Were you wearing your PJ's and no shoes?" Pete asked, a smile on his face.

I frowned, "Hey. Shut up."

Patrick laughed, "Why didn't you get changed?"

I shrugged, "I took one of your hoodie's and put it over my singlet. Who needs regular clothes when I can wear flannels, a Clandestine hoodie and no shoes?" I took another sip of my coffee before adding, "Anyways, no one can resist my overly long heart PJ pants."

When I walked around, the ends of pants tucked under my feet. It comes with being 5 ft 2.

Joe sat back on the lounge, picking up his pink game boy and turning it on. The on music played for a moment, before cutting out and switching off. Immediately, he looked at me.

"You've been playing with it haven't you?"

I shook my head, imitating his American accent, "Nah. I so did not."

"You so did too."

"Now children, play nice!" Patrick said in an almost motherly tone, which resulted in my magazine swatting at his arm. "And don't do that with your voice," he said to me, "you sound...weird."

My shoulders slumped and I rose an eye brow at him, "That's exactly what you said to me about my Aussie accent after a week of working with Dirty."

Pete sat down next to me, firstly lifting my legs off the couch and placing them on his lap. I didn't know it could get that much more comfortable. Ha.

"Aussie accents are pretty awesome."

"AH-some." I mimicked.

Pete looked at me, "We don't say it like that."

"You do," I retorted, "listen to how I say it: awesome. This is how you say it: AH-some. You make it sound like half the letters are missing."

The bus gave a jolt, the engine starting. I had started laughing, knowing that there would be an argument soon over something that wasn't that interesting, but whatever.

"Fine then, Miss Australian," Pete said back in a mock-offended tone, "what about you Aussie's and saying 'mate' and 'crickey' and 'shit-stick'."

I snickered, "Shit stick? My dad uses that and he's like sixty. And mate is just a nice way of talking to someone."

Andy added, "She has a point. I don't think I've heard one Australian say shit-stick yet."

Pete turned to him, a grin on his face as he said, "Dude, you're 'spose to have my back!"

"Doooode!" I said loudly before bursting into giggles as Pete locked my feet in his arm and began to tickle them.

This resulted into me knocking the remains of my coffee onto Andy, who yelped and stood up.

Both Pete and I ceased our wild antics and looked at Andy.

"You just squealed like a girl!" I said, laughter already in my voice.

"Dude, you just knocked hot coffee onto my crutch!" He didn't sound that angry, but hot coffee would hurt. Especially on your crutch.

"You got in the way of the coffee, Andy", I managed to say in a serious tone.

Pete nodded, "Yeah. If you moved, it wouldn't have happened."

Andy shook his head at us, "Sometimes I wonder if you guys are even adults."

"She is the size of a thirteen year old girl, Andy," Joe intervened.

"Oh, snap!" Andy cheered, giving Joe a high-five as he passed him to go into the bedroom and get something to change into.

"Hey shut up -" I racked my brain for something, "butt-face!"

"Vocabulary of a thirteen year old too!" Pete added, and I playfully slapped him on the arm. I made contact with dampness.

"Ew, go change. You're covered in sweat. And I have a feeling it isn't just yours either."

I lifted my legs and Pete slid off the couch, "Like to add yours?"

Immediately I saw that devious 'let's have a repeat of two hours ago' look on his face. I shook my head at him.

"Ha, not in a million years."

Boy, was that a lie.

He merely smirked at me as if he had heard what I really wanted to say. Thank god he turned around and went to get changed.

Joe had managed to find some new batteries and was now happily playing Mario, still clothed in his sweaty clothes. Ew. Patrick was still seated in his original position, only now he was staring at me with a quizzical expression.

"What?" I innocently asked, although I had a hunch he knew the chemistry between Pete and myself.

He stared at me for a moment more before shaking his head and saying in a lowered voice, "Be careful, Rach." And with those three words, he stood up and proceeded towards the front of the bus to talk to Dirty.

I'm sure you're all wondering how this happened. All these unexplained events and I'm here, blabbing about how Andy got his crutch burnt, running Joe's game-boy batteries down, Patrick the all-knowing and Pete, the man with one hundred...trillion teeny-bopper girls, and even boys sweat on him and how he probably wouldn't have even noticed until I pointed it out.

I'll start from the beginning.