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

What The Gods Were Talking About.

by howshesews 6 reviews


Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: R - Genres: Humor, Romance - Published: 2006-11-20 - Updated: 2006-11-21 - 1163 words

Have you ever smiled so much you didn't realize you were smiling?

Well, that's our leading lady for the evening. Meg was on top of the world, and all because of a still largely-anonymous boy. Who cared? What did she honestly have to lose two days into a friendship with this guy? Well...

Nothing. Pervs.

After leaving the Metro, they decided it would be a good idea to get food.

At least, Meg decided it would be a good idea.

Patrick tapped Meg's shoulder, then pointed at his lips.

"What do you want to eat?" She smiled. Taco Bell. Duh.

"T-a-c-o B-e-l-l." She spelled, slowly. Patrick nodded. He was actually quite proud of himself. Maybe this wouldn't be such a problem after all. He motioned for her attention.

"Are we eating there, or taking it somewhere?" She shrugged, thinking about the question.

"We could go b-a-c-k to my house." She signed, slowly, Patrick mostly getting the jist of her response. He had so much learning to do.

"That's fine. Ready?" She nodded, and he took her hand in his own. She could feel her face burning. How ridiculous, she thought. Had he been turned around, facing her, she wouldn't have felt so bad. He was blushing too.

The ride to Taco Bell was silent, of course, and Patrick was very content, resting in the lack of conversation, thinking of the girl sitting next to him.

He needed to go slow. He needed to form a friendship with this girl, but since the second he met her, he knew she was He knew she was so much more than what everyone would initially expect them to be.

"Keep your head on your shoulders, Patrick. Keep your head on your shoulders." He muttered to himself. Even though Meg couldn't hear him, he still felt stupid talking to himself in the presence of another.

They pulled into the drive-thru of Taco Bell. Patrick slowed, rolling down his window.

"Thank you for choosing Taco Bell. Would you like to try a Cheesy Gordita Crunch with a Large drink and your choice of a crunchy or soft taco for just 2.99 this evening?" Patrick listened as the young man recited the overly rehearsed speech.

"Uh, no thanks. It'll be just a few minutes."


Meg looked at Patrick.

"What do you want?" She read his lips. His lips...

She was hungry...for Taco Bell...

His lips...

Christ, she thought. This had to stop. She pulled a pen and paper out of her purse, and began writing.

"A crunch wrap supreme, minus tomato." He read.

"Drink?" He asked.

Meg shook her head; he nodded, and read off the order to the young man. He then proceeded to order his own food.

"Your total is 6.67. Thank you." Patrick pulled forward, stopping at the window, paying, and retrieving their food.

Once he had pulled out of the parking lot of Taco Bell, and made his way back into the busy Chicago street, he sighed. So far, so good, he thought.

Given the circumstances, he was right. A lot more could have gone wrong than actually had.

When he pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex that he knew to be Meg's, and opened her door, allowing her into the cold Chicago air, he noticed a slight look of worry in her eyes.

How the hell would he know if that was worry?

Sure, he'd seen a lot. Hell, he'd been everywhere. Double hell, he made Odysseus look like a homebody. But even considering those things, how would he be able to begin identifying the look of concern in this completely uncommon girls eyes.

I, as the unbiased third party, really think they need to jump each other's bones. But, I digress... this is their story. Not mine. I'll just have to decrease my sexual charge for a few more chapters....damnit.

Meg climbed the stairs leading to 31 B, slowly, nervously. Patrick noticed her caution. Apparently, this girl made him psychic. (I told you I'm obnoxious.)

She made it to the landing, stood 8 feet, approximately, from her moderately ajar front door. What the hell? Patrick tapped her, and as usual, pointed at his lips.

"I'm going in first." She nodded. Like she was honestly going to protest.

He pushed the door open, slowly, cautiously, mostly nervously, and looked inside. The light was on, and he heard voices, though faint, coming from the back room. He rolled his eyes.

Patrick looked at her, she looked back.

"Pete." Meg made a face. This wasn't all that funny...if they were even trying to be.

Meg walked around Patrick's hovered form, pushing open the door, with more force, and a bit more anger. She slammed her open palm on the wall, letting them know she was there.

Mal looked up, and Pete stopped laughing. She looked at him, still smirking.

" I'll go." Pete's eyes lit up.

"Me too!" He followed Mal into the living room where Patrick and Meg were standing, more than confused.

Meg signed.

"What the hell are you doing here? I was terrified! My front door was left open and could have been anybody!" Mal smiled, and Pete smiled too.

"What are you two doing?" Patrick asked, almost as weirded out as Meg.

"Playing search and evade." Meg watched Mal as she signed their conversation, and made a face and Pete's answer.

"You're what? We played that when we were juniors. Is it just you two?" Meg asked. Mal shook her head.

"Andy and Joe are playing, along with Dirty, and some of their female friends from road crew. Are you guys in?"

Patrick looked at Mal...

"What the fuck is search and evade?" Pete explained.

"A motorized team and an infantry...Minus guns, and military strategy, and stuff. Mostly, we'll put one team in a car, and give the team on foot a head start. We're playing from Michigan all the way to...The Metro." Patrick's eyes widened.

"That's huge! And someone will definitely get shot. Ridiculous. Completely." Mal laughed. Meg played with Woof.

"Like T.J. writing his own bible?" Patrick shook his head.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Pete quickly shook his head, swatting at the air like he was ridding it of his craziness.

"I don't know. You get a thirty minute head start. You're fine." Patrick closed his eyes.

"That will get us to Wabash. Maybe. And a head start won't serve as a bullet proof vest. I'm not thinking this is a good idea." Woof purred as Meg gently stroked behind his ears. She kissed him (Woof. Not Patrick. Woof.).

"Patrick. Stop Take some chances. For one night. Order from disorder, bitches. This is what we live for. Chaos!" Patrick shook his head again.

"Whatever, Pete the Crusader. I'm in, I guess.." He tapped Meg's shoulder. "You playing?" She looked at Mal.

"Fucking duh." Mal laughed, and informed Patrick of her response.

He was loving this night.
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