Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > First Impressions and Famous Last Words
'Falling' for FOB
2 reviewsJen's new to town and is literally knocked off her feet. But will this stranger change her attitude and has she landed herself more than she bargined for?
0Unrated
OK, it's my first fanfic (no excuse but you know...) I wrote it a while ago and posted on quizilla. It's been tweaked a little :)
Enjoy
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How we met sort of sums everything that happened to us. A strange beginning for an even stranger relationship. Very poetic.
It was a dark, damp autumn afternoon in London and I was rushing from the library to the supermarket trying to avoid the commuters and the puddles on the pavement whilst still holding an umbrella and a pile of books. The perils of the task were only intensified by the fact I was new to town and getting lost was a serious possibility. A possibility that did, of course, happen.
"'Go study in London. It'll be good for you' they said", I cursed under my breath trying to find some shelter in order to stop and get back my bearings. I spied a doorway and stood underneath the overhang trying to work out whether I really had just walked past the pub opposite 10 minutes earlier. At that very moment I was knocked flying onto the pavement by someone or something emerging from the door behind me.
"S**t", I swore loudly as I felt the sharp pain of a grazed knee.
"Oh man, I am like so sorry. I wasn't expecting anyone to be out here. Are you ok?" I looked up to see a pair of chequered Vans sneakers, some dark jeans and a large flight case with the words 'Fall Out Boy' stencilled across the side. The owner of the box (currently somewhat of an idiot in my opinion) set it down beside him and offered me a hand. I reluctantly took it and allowed the idiot to help retrieve the books that had been scattered across the road. I did this all with out looking at him.
"Do I look like I'm ok to you? You complete idiot" I began "What if there had been a car coming? Do you not look where you're going before..." It was then that I looked up to be faced with a pair of brown eyes that even in my seriously pissed off state I could only describe as amazing. These teamed with a sweeping fringe enhanced with a red block of colour and a mouth that you just knew would produce the cheekiest smile made up the face of a very sheepish looking bloke. I can't say I have a 'type' or that if I did pretty boys would be it but on this occasion I was mesmerised. All feelings of annoyance had melted into something I now like to call 'male induced air headedness'.
"I am really, really sorry" the man said in an unplaceable American accent (which I later found out to be from Chicago). "Look, come inside, your leg's bleeding. I am so sorry."
I looked down at my knee. The pain was something else that this guy's appearance had completely removed from my mind. He offered me his arm and I hobbled through the door. I found myself in fairly large room with a small stage at one end and a bar at the other. The man guided me to a stool beside the bar and I sat down, placing my injured leg on the one beside it. It was at this point that the fog that had filled my head began to disperse to be replaced with mild annoyance: I had things to do and I wanted to get back in time to see Neighbours.
"I'm Pete by the way," he reached out and shook my hand as he set down my books on the counter. "There must be a first aid box around here somewhere; I'll get you like a band aid or something."
"JAMES" he cried up the stairs in the corner "DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING FOR MINOR INJURIES?"
"What?" came the reply "What have you done now? There's some plasters and antiseptic under the bar on the left hand side!"
"THANKS" Pete hollered as he vaulted over the bar. "So you know my name. What's yours?" he asked with a smile as he walked towards me. I scowled; he was one of those types I hated so much. The type of guy that you could almost believe would knock a girl over just to get a phone number. Looking like that it figured. "Jen" I answered sharply. There was silence as Pete stood next to me and began to dab the graze with antiseptic soaked cotton wool. I winced but still tried as hard as I could to keep my 'I am not impressed' face. I don't know why even let him do it to be honest. Normally I would have been out of the door at the first opportunity. But that's what he does to me, changes things, and I'm glad I didn't leave there and then.
He began to whistle a tune which was vaguely familiar but which I couldn't quite place. I studied his face; he was concentrating so hard that small lines formed on his forehead and his tongue even began to peep out of the corner of his mouth. He placed a plaster on my graze and then stood back as if to admire his work. The air headedness had struck again and I only then realised that a group of guys had entered the room and were now looking at us with slight confusion. I suddenly became aware of my drowned rat appearance and cursed the decision to wear a fairly flimsy shirt with no coat; it was sunny this morning.
"Guys! Hay! This is Jen. I bumped into her when I was moving the gear." Pete greeted the men with handshakes and hugs.
"More like nearly killed," I muttered under my breath.
Pete turned to me "Meet Patrick, Andy and Joe: my band mates."
They acknowledged me; their expressions changing to those of understanding, like they had seen this all before. Everything made slightly more sense in my mind too. He was a musician and in my experience musicians, especially good looking ones, tended to be cocky and a more than a little presumptuous.
I caught myself and stood up. "Well thank you for the medical attention but I must be going." I said tersely, picking up my books. "Just remember to take more care and look where you're going in future," I added and headed for the door.
"Wait." Pete grabbed my arm. A shiver ran down my spine as I span round to meet his gaze. For not the first or last time I was lost for words and Pete saw his chance,
"I really am sorry. I'd like to apologise properly somehow. We've got a gig here tomorrow and I'll get your name on the door. It's here, 8pm, it'd be great if you came." He looked at me pleadingly and I turned to leave.
"I'll see what I'm doing. Maybe." I called over my shoulder as I walked back out into the cold rain. But why was I smiling like a school girl?
Enjoy
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
How we met sort of sums everything that happened to us. A strange beginning for an even stranger relationship. Very poetic.
It was a dark, damp autumn afternoon in London and I was rushing from the library to the supermarket trying to avoid the commuters and the puddles on the pavement whilst still holding an umbrella and a pile of books. The perils of the task were only intensified by the fact I was new to town and getting lost was a serious possibility. A possibility that did, of course, happen.
"'Go study in London. It'll be good for you' they said", I cursed under my breath trying to find some shelter in order to stop and get back my bearings. I spied a doorway and stood underneath the overhang trying to work out whether I really had just walked past the pub opposite 10 minutes earlier. At that very moment I was knocked flying onto the pavement by someone or something emerging from the door behind me.
"S**t", I swore loudly as I felt the sharp pain of a grazed knee.
"Oh man, I am like so sorry. I wasn't expecting anyone to be out here. Are you ok?" I looked up to see a pair of chequered Vans sneakers, some dark jeans and a large flight case with the words 'Fall Out Boy' stencilled across the side. The owner of the box (currently somewhat of an idiot in my opinion) set it down beside him and offered me a hand. I reluctantly took it and allowed the idiot to help retrieve the books that had been scattered across the road. I did this all with out looking at him.
"Do I look like I'm ok to you? You complete idiot" I began "What if there had been a car coming? Do you not look where you're going before..." It was then that I looked up to be faced with a pair of brown eyes that even in my seriously pissed off state I could only describe as amazing. These teamed with a sweeping fringe enhanced with a red block of colour and a mouth that you just knew would produce the cheekiest smile made up the face of a very sheepish looking bloke. I can't say I have a 'type' or that if I did pretty boys would be it but on this occasion I was mesmerised. All feelings of annoyance had melted into something I now like to call 'male induced air headedness'.
"I am really, really sorry" the man said in an unplaceable American accent (which I later found out to be from Chicago). "Look, come inside, your leg's bleeding. I am so sorry."
I looked down at my knee. The pain was something else that this guy's appearance had completely removed from my mind. He offered me his arm and I hobbled through the door. I found myself in fairly large room with a small stage at one end and a bar at the other. The man guided me to a stool beside the bar and I sat down, placing my injured leg on the one beside it. It was at this point that the fog that had filled my head began to disperse to be replaced with mild annoyance: I had things to do and I wanted to get back in time to see Neighbours.
"I'm Pete by the way," he reached out and shook my hand as he set down my books on the counter. "There must be a first aid box around here somewhere; I'll get you like a band aid or something."
"JAMES" he cried up the stairs in the corner "DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING FOR MINOR INJURIES?"
"What?" came the reply "What have you done now? There's some plasters and antiseptic under the bar on the left hand side!"
"THANKS" Pete hollered as he vaulted over the bar. "So you know my name. What's yours?" he asked with a smile as he walked towards me. I scowled; he was one of those types I hated so much. The type of guy that you could almost believe would knock a girl over just to get a phone number. Looking like that it figured. "Jen" I answered sharply. There was silence as Pete stood next to me and began to dab the graze with antiseptic soaked cotton wool. I winced but still tried as hard as I could to keep my 'I am not impressed' face. I don't know why even let him do it to be honest. Normally I would have been out of the door at the first opportunity. But that's what he does to me, changes things, and I'm glad I didn't leave there and then.
He began to whistle a tune which was vaguely familiar but which I couldn't quite place. I studied his face; he was concentrating so hard that small lines formed on his forehead and his tongue even began to peep out of the corner of his mouth. He placed a plaster on my graze and then stood back as if to admire his work. The air headedness had struck again and I only then realised that a group of guys had entered the room and were now looking at us with slight confusion. I suddenly became aware of my drowned rat appearance and cursed the decision to wear a fairly flimsy shirt with no coat; it was sunny this morning.
"Guys! Hay! This is Jen. I bumped into her when I was moving the gear." Pete greeted the men with handshakes and hugs.
"More like nearly killed," I muttered under my breath.
Pete turned to me "Meet Patrick, Andy and Joe: my band mates."
They acknowledged me; their expressions changing to those of understanding, like they had seen this all before. Everything made slightly more sense in my mind too. He was a musician and in my experience musicians, especially good looking ones, tended to be cocky and a more than a little presumptuous.
I caught myself and stood up. "Well thank you for the medical attention but I must be going." I said tersely, picking up my books. "Just remember to take more care and look where you're going in future," I added and headed for the door.
"Wait." Pete grabbed my arm. A shiver ran down my spine as I span round to meet his gaze. For not the first or last time I was lost for words and Pete saw his chance,
"I really am sorry. I'd like to apologise properly somehow. We've got a gig here tomorrow and I'll get your name on the door. It's here, 8pm, it'd be great if you came." He looked at me pleadingly and I turned to leave.
"I'll see what I'm doing. Maybe." I called over my shoulder as I walked back out into the cold rain. But why was I smiling like a school girl?
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