Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > We're Only Liars But We're The Best
You enter the mansion and put your fingers in your mouth and whistle. "Anyone home? I have pizza!" it was true, both hands were occupied with two large boxes on each, each one with a different kind of pizza.
"LET ME AT IT!!!" Pete comes sailing down the hall towards you, then slides the last third of the way on the hardwood floor in his socks, almost colliding with you. He leans over to catch his balance and you reach a hand out and place your palm on his forehead. "Thanks, Roxy," he said breathlessly.
"Whatev. Let's find the others." Then she saw that there was no need to; Patrick, Joe, and Andy appeared from the doorway on your left and cautiously made their way down the hall.
"We were watching TV, and we heard you, then saw Pete, and were prepared for another ER trip..." Joe began. You laugh and head for the dinning room, Patrick close behind.
"So, how's Steve?" he asked timidly. Steve was your boyfriend...he broke up with you today. For the past two weeks you two have done nothing but fight with each other, and you were sick of it-apparently he was more. You bit your lip-you don't cry in front of people, you hate crying in general.
"He should be fine. We broke up today." Your lip began to bleed, and you had to squint your eyes to keep the tears in. You started taking deep breaths, which helps.
"Oh, really? I-I'm sorry." Yeah right, Patrick has liked you forever, and you knew it. But this wasn't the time for thinking of his wants, you were too busy thinking of how much you and Steve had together, now someone else was going to have it. Just the thought made you grit your teeth.
"Hey, my contacts are really dry, I'm going to go and..." you didn't finish. Patrick knew that you just wanted to be alone, so he let you escape without questioning you. You ran up the stairs and threw yourself into your room and onto your bed. For nearly ten minutes you lay on your bed with your face in your pillow, and attempted to control your emotions. There was a dull thudding on your door.
"Roxy, can I come in?" It was Pete. He always knew how to cheer you up.
"Sure." Your voice was steady. That was a start.
"Come on, Roxy. It's alright, everybody gets dumped at some point," he cooed and came over to sit on the edge of your bed.
"Pete," you whimper and sit up to hug him. You don't know how long you sit there for, but it feels good when he starts stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head.
"It's okay, Roxy. It's gonna be okay," he murmurs into your hair. When you're all sobbed out, you make for the bathroom to wash your face, but thank him first. Another thump, and Patrick was at your door.
"Are you alright, Roxy?" Why hadn't he been the one who's shoulder she'd cry on? Why hadn't he gotten here sooner? His hated himself, his shyness. Pete always got to her first, and was much better at the 'boyfriend' role than he was. Damn it!
"Yeah, I'm okay now. Thanks, Patrick."
"WE MIGHT TAKE TURNS, NOT FOR THE WORST, WE'RE ALL 'HAS-BEENS' AND 'NEVER-WERE'S'!" Pete grabbed your attention by screaming out some of his own lyrics and jumping on your bed, then loosing his balance by slipping on your bedspread and crashing on the floor, nearly cracking his head open on your dresser.
"Oh, that was stupid," he said as you pulled him off of the floor. He didn't mean to fall, that's just how he was, a little hyperactive monkey.
"What's the problem, Pete? Got ants in your pants?" You mock-sneer, and he tackled you and you two began a tickle fight as Patrick was left in the door looking in with jealousy.
"GET IN HERE, PATRICK!" Pete cried gleefully, and here you were pissing yourself laughing and you called out to him too. After a bit of wild dancing to some FOB music blaring from your stereo, you three head back downstairs to grab some leftover pizza and for you to make some mixed drinks.
"What y'all want?" you called into the living room where the boys retreated after your tickle war.
"Piña Colada!" shouted Andy.
"Irish car bomb!" that was Patrick's order.
"Make two more ICB's!" called Joe. You threw some ice, Coco Lopez, and pineapple juice in the blender and poured about a teaspoon of half and half in. That makes it really creamy. When it was blended, you poured it in a tulip glass, then mixed in some Malibu coconut rum in and added a stirrer, and garnish the rim with a marchino cherry and a sprig of mint. Once the blender was dropped in the sink you took the Irish Mist and Bailey's out of the liquor cabinet and three bottles of Guinness stout out of the refrigerator. You carefully poured the Guinness into the pint glasses at a forty degree angle and fill three shot glasses three-fourths with the Bailey's and top it with the Irish Mist. "Come and get it!" You made yourself an Irish Car Bomb and waited until Andy said "Go!" then plunked the whole shot glass into the pint of Guinness and chugged the entire thing. The shot glass hit your mouth, and the concoction of Irish Mist and Bailey's coated your mouth and throat, then the Guinness slid over it and plummeted into your stomach in an ocean of chocolate-biscotti flavored coffee taste. Once it was gone, you slam your glass on the table and watch Joe, Pete, and Patrick attempt the same.
"What are you doing, Pete? Sipping tea? Get it in there!" you grab the end of Pete's glass and quickly dump the rest into his mouth, causing him to sputter and run to the kitchen sink choking. Patrick slammed his and stood for a bit, then the drink hit him like a box of rocks and he ran like a rabbit into the bathroom.
"If he can't handle it, then why does he do it?" Joe asked in wonder, calmly setting his now empty pint on the table. You shrug and cringe at the sound of Patrick throwing up whatever he just ate.
"And the winner is Roxy," Andy said dully and lifted the split cherry off of the rim to suck on it.
"That was a dirty trick, Roxy!" Pete came back from the sink, wiping his mouth with his hand. You shrug again. Patrick swaggered back and placed his hat back on his head since he needed to take it off lest it fall into the toilet.
"Let's watch a movie," Joe suggested carefully, watching Patrick with a mixture of concern and disgust.
"Yeah, let's do that...EIGHT CRAZY NIGHTS, RIGHT PETE?!" you cry.
"Hell yeah! Coming up!" Pete grabbed your hand and you two tore into the living room where he dragged you onto the couch on top of him. The other guys come in and plop on chairs or the love seat, and Pete pulls you closer. Patrick puts in the Eight Crazy Nights DVD and presses the Play Now button, while casting an envious look at you and Pete on the couch. As the movie goes on, you and Pete fill in the lines, and eventually you feel his lips on your neck, gently running them from your ear to your shoulder. Then you notice that Patrick isn't watching the movie, he's watching you two, practically full frontal snogging. That was pretty inconsiderate of you, you suppose.
"Feel my hinny? You hoodlums better bring my wig back, I know it was you!" and then later, "Peanuts, for me?" (if you don't know, this is from Eight Crazy Nights).
"I want a panda," you randomly comment after Davey's hallucination scene.
"I can be your panda," Pete purred, and he did look like one with your eyeliner riming his eyes and your mascara that you applied for him. He even asked you to rub your silver glitter around his eyes, making him look like a very sparkly panda.
"Oh yeah, Panda Pete. VERY fitting."
"Well, I do have that shirt with the bear and dolphin." You nod, and try to focus on the movie, but Pete won't leave you alone, and Patrick's giving you puppy eyes. Joe and Andy are blissfully ignorant of the whole situation of the eyes. After the movie, everyone was asleep but you, and Pete wasn't going to let go of your waist. You sigh and decide just to stay there with him, and grab a blanket from the cabinet under the coffee table in front of you and drape it over you two.
The next morning, you wake up to Pete nibbling on your ear, and you shoot out of his now weakened hold only to stammer some excuse as to why you didn't want him holding you, and dash up to your room to shower and dress. You punch in the Theory of a Deadman code into your jukebox and turn it way up so you can hear it over the water in the bathroom. Once you realize that you threw out your empty bottle of Radiant Red, you decide to wrap a towel around yourself and make a mad dash to Patrick's room to grab his bottle. So you do it, and walk right in on Patrick taking off his shirt, ready to get into his own shower.
Scenario: you're holding the door open, looking stupid, and staring at Patrick in all of his half-naked glory.
"Er, I need shampoo." You're still staring, as is he.
"Uh, yeah. Go for it." Red is slowly overtaking his face. Don't worry, yours is too.
"LET ME AT IT!!!" Pete comes sailing down the hall towards you, then slides the last third of the way on the hardwood floor in his socks, almost colliding with you. He leans over to catch his balance and you reach a hand out and place your palm on his forehead. "Thanks, Roxy," he said breathlessly.
"Whatev. Let's find the others." Then she saw that there was no need to; Patrick, Joe, and Andy appeared from the doorway on your left and cautiously made their way down the hall.
"We were watching TV, and we heard you, then saw Pete, and were prepared for another ER trip..." Joe began. You laugh and head for the dinning room, Patrick close behind.
"So, how's Steve?" he asked timidly. Steve was your boyfriend...he broke up with you today. For the past two weeks you two have done nothing but fight with each other, and you were sick of it-apparently he was more. You bit your lip-you don't cry in front of people, you hate crying in general.
"He should be fine. We broke up today." Your lip began to bleed, and you had to squint your eyes to keep the tears in. You started taking deep breaths, which helps.
"Oh, really? I-I'm sorry." Yeah right, Patrick has liked you forever, and you knew it. But this wasn't the time for thinking of his wants, you were too busy thinking of how much you and Steve had together, now someone else was going to have it. Just the thought made you grit your teeth.
"Hey, my contacts are really dry, I'm going to go and..." you didn't finish. Patrick knew that you just wanted to be alone, so he let you escape without questioning you. You ran up the stairs and threw yourself into your room and onto your bed. For nearly ten minutes you lay on your bed with your face in your pillow, and attempted to control your emotions. There was a dull thudding on your door.
"Roxy, can I come in?" It was Pete. He always knew how to cheer you up.
"Sure." Your voice was steady. That was a start.
"Come on, Roxy. It's alright, everybody gets dumped at some point," he cooed and came over to sit on the edge of your bed.
"Pete," you whimper and sit up to hug him. You don't know how long you sit there for, but it feels good when he starts stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head.
"It's okay, Roxy. It's gonna be okay," he murmurs into your hair. When you're all sobbed out, you make for the bathroom to wash your face, but thank him first. Another thump, and Patrick was at your door.
"Are you alright, Roxy?" Why hadn't he been the one who's shoulder she'd cry on? Why hadn't he gotten here sooner? His hated himself, his shyness. Pete always got to her first, and was much better at the 'boyfriend' role than he was. Damn it!
"Yeah, I'm okay now. Thanks, Patrick."
"WE MIGHT TAKE TURNS, NOT FOR THE WORST, WE'RE ALL 'HAS-BEENS' AND 'NEVER-WERE'S'!" Pete grabbed your attention by screaming out some of his own lyrics and jumping on your bed, then loosing his balance by slipping on your bedspread and crashing on the floor, nearly cracking his head open on your dresser.
"Oh, that was stupid," he said as you pulled him off of the floor. He didn't mean to fall, that's just how he was, a little hyperactive monkey.
"What's the problem, Pete? Got ants in your pants?" You mock-sneer, and he tackled you and you two began a tickle fight as Patrick was left in the door looking in with jealousy.
"GET IN HERE, PATRICK!" Pete cried gleefully, and here you were pissing yourself laughing and you called out to him too. After a bit of wild dancing to some FOB music blaring from your stereo, you three head back downstairs to grab some leftover pizza and for you to make some mixed drinks.
"What y'all want?" you called into the living room where the boys retreated after your tickle war.
"Piña Colada!" shouted Andy.
"Irish car bomb!" that was Patrick's order.
"Make two more ICB's!" called Joe. You threw some ice, Coco Lopez, and pineapple juice in the blender and poured about a teaspoon of half and half in. That makes it really creamy. When it was blended, you poured it in a tulip glass, then mixed in some Malibu coconut rum in and added a stirrer, and garnish the rim with a marchino cherry and a sprig of mint. Once the blender was dropped in the sink you took the Irish Mist and Bailey's out of the liquor cabinet and three bottles of Guinness stout out of the refrigerator. You carefully poured the Guinness into the pint glasses at a forty degree angle and fill three shot glasses three-fourths with the Bailey's and top it with the Irish Mist. "Come and get it!" You made yourself an Irish Car Bomb and waited until Andy said "Go!" then plunked the whole shot glass into the pint of Guinness and chugged the entire thing. The shot glass hit your mouth, and the concoction of Irish Mist and Bailey's coated your mouth and throat, then the Guinness slid over it and plummeted into your stomach in an ocean of chocolate-biscotti flavored coffee taste. Once it was gone, you slam your glass on the table and watch Joe, Pete, and Patrick attempt the same.
"What are you doing, Pete? Sipping tea? Get it in there!" you grab the end of Pete's glass and quickly dump the rest into his mouth, causing him to sputter and run to the kitchen sink choking. Patrick slammed his and stood for a bit, then the drink hit him like a box of rocks and he ran like a rabbit into the bathroom.
"If he can't handle it, then why does he do it?" Joe asked in wonder, calmly setting his now empty pint on the table. You shrug and cringe at the sound of Patrick throwing up whatever he just ate.
"And the winner is Roxy," Andy said dully and lifted the split cherry off of the rim to suck on it.
"That was a dirty trick, Roxy!" Pete came back from the sink, wiping his mouth with his hand. You shrug again. Patrick swaggered back and placed his hat back on his head since he needed to take it off lest it fall into the toilet.
"Let's watch a movie," Joe suggested carefully, watching Patrick with a mixture of concern and disgust.
"Yeah, let's do that...EIGHT CRAZY NIGHTS, RIGHT PETE?!" you cry.
"Hell yeah! Coming up!" Pete grabbed your hand and you two tore into the living room where he dragged you onto the couch on top of him. The other guys come in and plop on chairs or the love seat, and Pete pulls you closer. Patrick puts in the Eight Crazy Nights DVD and presses the Play Now button, while casting an envious look at you and Pete on the couch. As the movie goes on, you and Pete fill in the lines, and eventually you feel his lips on your neck, gently running them from your ear to your shoulder. Then you notice that Patrick isn't watching the movie, he's watching you two, practically full frontal snogging. That was pretty inconsiderate of you, you suppose.
"Feel my hinny? You hoodlums better bring my wig back, I know it was you!" and then later, "Peanuts, for me?" (if you don't know, this is from Eight Crazy Nights).
"I want a panda," you randomly comment after Davey's hallucination scene.
"I can be your panda," Pete purred, and he did look like one with your eyeliner riming his eyes and your mascara that you applied for him. He even asked you to rub your silver glitter around his eyes, making him look like a very sparkly panda.
"Oh yeah, Panda Pete. VERY fitting."
"Well, I do have that shirt with the bear and dolphin." You nod, and try to focus on the movie, but Pete won't leave you alone, and Patrick's giving you puppy eyes. Joe and Andy are blissfully ignorant of the whole situation of the eyes. After the movie, everyone was asleep but you, and Pete wasn't going to let go of your waist. You sigh and decide just to stay there with him, and grab a blanket from the cabinet under the coffee table in front of you and drape it over you two.
The next morning, you wake up to Pete nibbling on your ear, and you shoot out of his now weakened hold only to stammer some excuse as to why you didn't want him holding you, and dash up to your room to shower and dress. You punch in the Theory of a Deadman code into your jukebox and turn it way up so you can hear it over the water in the bathroom. Once you realize that you threw out your empty bottle of Radiant Red, you decide to wrap a towel around yourself and make a mad dash to Patrick's room to grab his bottle. So you do it, and walk right in on Patrick taking off his shirt, ready to get into his own shower.
Scenario: you're holding the door open, looking stupid, and staring at Patrick in all of his half-naked glory.
"Er, I need shampoo." You're still staring, as is he.
"Uh, yeah. Go for it." Red is slowly overtaking his face. Don't worry, yours is too.
Sign up to rate and review this story