Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Sets of Three, They Say...

Alright, Alright. Slow Down.

by howshesews 5 reviews


Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: R - Genres: Humor, Romance - Published: 2006-11-19 - Updated: 2006-11-20 - 1464 words

Calm. Humble. Beautiful. Rare. Meg was completely different from anyone he had ever known. Her confidence. Her courage. Her smile. When she smiled, he smiled, and that was more than uncommon. He'd known her for less than a day. But all he could think about was nothing short of...only her. Pete was beyond hooked. Not romantically, though. Just...hooked.

Patrick, on the other hand, couldn't help but feel a small amount of resentment. Not towards Pete. Pete didn't know what Patrick's plans had been. Sure, Pete could be a prick sometimes, but had he known Patrick's plan to spend the afternoon prior to the concert with Meg, he wouldn't have asked for Meg's company at lunch that day. He had more faith in his friend than that. Even still, the resentment was there. Mostly towards himself, hi inaction. But the more he thought about it, the more clear it became as to what he needed to do.

Patrick grabbed his keys, his hat, his wallet, and was out the door.

Border's. Who doesn't love bookstore slash coffee shop?

Well, Patrick. Now, if he had placed a paper bag over his head, making him unrecognizable, it might have been not so bad. But unfortunately, he'd used his last paper bag two days prior at the promenade with Joe, who was paper bagged as well.

Not really.

With no paper bag, and the thought of wearing one being the farthest thing from his mind, Patrick made his way inside, with haste.

"Excuse me, Miss. I'm looking for some books on signing." The young, female employee stopped what she was doing, turned and faced Patrick, lips curving upwards into a smile.

"Autographs?" He shook his head. Recognized.

"The language. I need some instruction manuals or something. Can you show me where they are?" The girl nodded, waving her hand as a motion for him to follow her.

When they arrived at the aisle title "foreign Language", Patrick scoffed.

""Isn't sign language the same internationally?" The girl just shrugged pointing at about seven different books. Patrick stepped forward, and grabbed them all.

"Thanks." He said, walking away with an arm full of books. The girl just slightly nodded. Weird.

After paying one-hundred-and-seven dollars for the books, Patrick left. Hah. Pete and his "mother fucking alphabet". He had him SO beat.

Meg grabbed her laptop. Pete may have known the alphabet, but she had a feeling that would make for an incredibly frustrating conversation for the most part. Having to spell everything out took time, and she had noticed that his spelling wasn't exactly top notch.

Was she nervous? Sure. Naturally. She was going on a date-

Wait. What was this? Mal had called it a lunch date. Meg had quickly corrected her, saying she didn't Even know Pete's last name.

"W-e-n-t-z." Mal signed, smiling. Meg rolled her eyes.

"He's my friend. We're just going to lunch as a couple of friends. Stop being overdramatic." Mal made a face of offense.

"That's absurd. Hey. Maybe if you and Pete fall madly in love, you could hook me up with Joe. That'd be pretty sweet. It'd be the least you could do for, you know, me hiring you and all." Meg rolled her eyes, waving before she went upstairs to wait for Pete.

She was sitting on her couch playing with the hem of her skirt when her phone buzzed.

MSG: I'm here.

It was from Pete. She went to the front door and opened it, revealing an eyeliner-free Pete Wentz. She smiled and invited him in. Holding up a finger, saying she'd be ready in a minute.

She grabbed her jacket and her laptop, and a pen and paper, in case her laptop died. It did that sometimes. After getting all her stuff together, she stood in front of Pete and smiled, letting him know she was good to go. He grabbed her hand, and led her down to his car.

The ride there was silent, because you can't do a lot of communicating while driving. Pardon my bluntness, but really, try to imagine it.

Lemongrass. Thai. Dude pays attention. She smiled as he parked and exited the vehicle, walking quickly to Meg's door, and opening it. He took her hand once again, and lead her inside.

After being seated by a young Asian girl in a red satin kimono, Meg opened her laptop, and started up word. Pete drummed on the table quietly, not knowing what else to do with his hands.

(He could have...talked to her, maybe?)

She typed a message to him.

"How did you know I liked thai so much? And I can read lips very well, by the way, so if you just want to talk, feel free." She turned the screen towards him, and he read.

"I saw the boxes on your counter the other night, and I kind of thought pizza was...not really appropriate. Easy, sure, because who doesn't like pizza, but not really appropriate for today." She smiled and began typing her reply.

"I don't like pizza, so I'm glad you went with thai. My favorite thai place, no less." He smiled and patted himself on the back, making Meg laugh.

"I had no idea this was your favorite Thai place. I couldn't have known that. Lucky guess. I'm glad you're here. I mean, I'm glad you decided to join me, when you could have said no." She nodded.

"I'm glad you invited me. No one really asks me to do things on Fridays. It's usually movie marathons with me and my cat, Woof. It's okay, though. We like each others company." Pete smiled. She was charming. Wait.

"You named your cat 'Woof'?" Meg smiled.

"Mal, named him, and gave him to me. I thought it was funny, but I guess it wasn't really a joke I could appreciate so much." Pete nodded. Meg typed.

"Tell me about yourself. You have a show tonight. Tell me about your band. What do you play? What's your passion? IS it fun for you?" He read and laughed.

"Lots of questions." She nodded, and typed.

"First time we've ever really talked." He read.

"You're right. I love music. I play bass. Patrick, Joe and Andy, the guys you met last night, are in Fall Out Boy with me. We've been pretty blessed with success, I suppose, but it's not what I take pride in the most. No way. It's rewarded me with some pretty crazy teenage girls on my front porch at 3 in the morning, so I'm not super excited about my job all the time. It keeps me busy 25 hours a day, 8 days a week. I guess I mostly take pride in my words. I write a lot of the lyrics, but even outside of that I've written things that I'm proud of. I love people. People are a passion of mine, I guess, to answer question number 2. I like chilling. I'm a pretty relaxed guy. I'm also a pretty stupid guy. But I'm going to make you think I'm cool until I know you better, so as to not really scare away a potential friendship. That would be silly of me." Meg followed along, almost word for word. Her abilities in lip-reading were very impressive. She nodded, sort of taking it all in, and typed.

"That's...a lot. I think it's cool that you write. We have that in common. Except you write words, while I write notes. I love to transpose. Re-write pieces. I never play anything the same twice. I know you didn't ask. I'm just sort of telling you." He read.

"I was going to. Ask, I mean." She nodded.

"Hungry?" He smiled as he read.

"That's why I brought you here." He said, and they filled out their orders.

The language made no sense to him. Was he supposed to sign every word? Or kid he skip a few and trust that the person reading got the jist of it. Whatever. Maybe he didn't want to know. Maybe he wouldn't end up needing to know. She was at lunch with Pete that very second.

Maybe he'd just spent one hundred and seven dollars on books. He was going to figure the fuck out how to sign. And he was going to do it before Pete.

Wait, wait, wait. Rewind. Pete was his best friend. This wasn't a competition. This wasn't a race. Pete was asking to her to a friendly lunch and all of the sudden Patrick was a madman, trying to be this competitive asshole that everyone knew he wasn't...all the time. Forget it. He was sure he'd end up with plenty of time to learn all of this, and today...well, it didn't need to be done by the end of it.
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