Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > At Trust And Love And Hope
"Leave him alone and come help me with this bag."
"No wait, I think he's drooling."
"Why is this fascinating to you? He always drools."
Pete closed his mouth and rolled over, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"See told you there was drool."
"And? Patrick, we can play with Pete later, this bag is about to rip."
Pete grunted, feeling the couch shift as if someone was getting off. He wiped at his mouth again, saliva sticky and wet against his hand. He groaned, opening his eyes. He squinted at the sunlight that was streaming in, idly wondering why it seemed like he had just laid down to sleep and already voices were waking him up.
"Oh look, now you woke him up."
"I didn't, it was probably your loud voice."
"Well I do sing for a living."
"Then I would think you wouldn't talk so much to preserve your voice."
Pete shut his eyes tightly and groaned when he hear the distinct sound of plastic hitting someone's head. He squinted one eye open and didn't stop the tiny smile that ghosted his lips. Patrick was defending himself from several flying objects ranging from an empty Corona box to bottle caps that were being thrown by Ricki.
"What time is it," Pete croaked out when Ricki was defending herself against Patrick's assault.
"Wow, I didn't think it spoke before noon," Ricki grinned. "It's 11:30 sunshine."
Pete groaned and buried his face into the pillow. "It's only 11:30, go back to sleep you two."
Patrick giggled and started gathering the things Ricki had thrown at him earlier. Whether he was going to chuck them back at her was still something he hadn't made up. "I think you had said something to Ricki about helping cleaning up."
Ricki chuckled when she felt a bottle cap hit her back as she bent down to pick up more cups. "Stop throwing things at me first of all. And secondly, Pete always says he's gonna help clean up. Then he sleeps on the couch and gets mad when we throw things at him. It's the way of life."
"I'm about to throw a punch if you two don't shut up," he moaned, his voice muffled by the pillow.
Patrick threw one last bottle cap for good measure. "You know, this is the most he's spoken to me without mumbling in like a month."
Ricki gave Pete's still form a glance before throwing the bottle cap back at Patrick. "Really? That must be a luxury. He's been at my apartment every day for the past month. That kid doesn't know when to shut up."
Pete lifted his head and squinted at Ricki. "I can hear you, you know."
She grinned. "That's the best part." She giggled when he got up suddenly and made his way out of the living room. "Aw, did we make Petey mad?"
Patrick chuckled when he just flipped her off and shut the door to the bathroom. He continued stuffing trash into a black bag. "Really, he's been over a lot?"
"Yeah," she sighed, tying her bag closed. "He'd either spend a couple nights in a row or be here really early and leave when he drops me from work."
He readjusted his cap thoughtfully. "Huh. He hasn't called me since we got back from the UK."
They both gave each other a glance. "Something's up," she murmured, Patrick nodding in agreeance slowly.
"Jesus Christ its cold in here," Joe commented, shuffling in, wrapped in a blanket. He sat down on the couch and watched with his friends clean with tired eyes. "So you aren't going to put the heater on?"
Ricki rolled her eyes good naturally at him. "It is on. You should put some clothes on."
Joe grinned, his eyes glittering. "But I thought you liked taking them off?"
She blushed and threw a pillow at him. "You're an idiot."
Patrick moved the full trash bags beside the door. "You've taken his clothes off before?"
"What about clothes off," Pete asked, walking back into the living. His wet hair and change of clothes indicated that he had showered, but the droop of his eyes showed he was still tired. He grinned broadly and expanded his arms. "Told you I'd clean up."
"Yes, sleeping on the couch helped so much," Ricki said sarcastically. She sat on her now clean floor and raised her eyebrows at Joe. "That's my blanket."
"I know," he said indifferently. "Do you still have pizza?"
"I stuck it in the oven to keep it somewhat warm," Patrick commented, sitting on the arm of the couch by Pete.
"I'm cold...can you stick something in me to keep me warm," Ricki asked, letting her legs drop open, her mouth prettily pouty.
Pete let out a bark of a laugh, laughing harder when he saw the blush creep around Patrick's throat. Ricki giggled and flashed Patrick a bright grin. Joe glowered before standing up suddenly. He muttered something about "showering" and "dumbasses" before the click of the bathroom door was heard.
Ricki gave the closed door a curious look before glancing up at Pete. "So what are we doing today?"
"Why is it up to me?"
"Because every time we suggest something you always say no," Patrick answered matter-of-factly.
Pete's eyes widened once before he cast his eyes downward. His causal sitting position stiffened up, his mind finally catching up to realization that Patrick was sitting right next to him. Ricki raised an eyebrow at Patrick who didn't even try to hide the confused look that veiled his face.
"Well...uh...I'm gonna go...do something," Patrick mumbled, glancing at
Pete as he stood up. "Give me a call, later." After placing a quick kiss on Ricki's head and shooting another glance at Pete's bowed head, he left.
"Okay what the fuck is your problem," Ricki demanded.
"Nothing," Pete mumbled, slowing raising his head. He looked around timidly, fully expecting Patrick to come bursting out yelling "Gotcha". He looked at his best friend, his eyes revealing the war inside his head. "There's nothing wrong."
Ricki gave him a look. "Why are you being rude to Patrick then?"
"I'm not being rude."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
"YES you are."
He glared at her and got off the couch. "I treat Patrick the same as I always have."
She got up and followed him to the kitchen. Eyeing him as he prepared himself a bowl of cereal she hopped up to sit on her counter. "You know," she muttered when he had devoured the first bowl and was pouring himself a second. "You have been acting weird towards Patrick."
Pete placed his now empty bowl into the sink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You just won't give up will you?"
Ricki perked up. "So you admit you've been acting weird?"
Pete rubbed his elbow, letting his hand trace one of his tattoos. "I've been thinking about shit and the day we returned to the states, I realized what my problem is."
"Wait," she demanded, her eyes twinkling. "It took you another trip overseas to realize that something is wrong with you?"
He gave her a bland look. "Har, har, har. I'm being serious here."
She giggled and set her lips. "Okay I'm serious now."
"Well you know how Patrick's gay," he asked slowly.
"Patrick's gay," she exclaimed, jumping off the counter. "Wow...I never knew!"
"Will you stop," he asked angrily. "I'm pouring my heart out and you keep fucking around."
"Well who spit in your bean curd," she mumbled, getting herself a bowl of cereal. She leaned against the counter opposite her best friend, raising her eyebrow over her bowl of cereal. "Since when have you lost your sense of humor?"
"Well I'm trying to tell you something important and you keep messing around," he told her, his voice slightly hysterical.
Ricki chewed thoughtfully. "You know...you're overracting a bit."
"No I'm not," he practically yelled. He leaned off the counter and threw his arms in the air. "I'm telling you something important, something life changing and all you can do is stand there and laugh at me!"
"I'm not lau-"
"Yes you are," he exploded, startling her. Milk and cereal sloshed over and spilled down her shirt.
"What the fuck Wentz," she demanded angrily. She set down her bowl, dabbing at her milk drenched shirt with a hand towel. "Why are you getting so mad?"
"Because you're not listening to me," he yelled.
Her eyes widened. "I'm fucking listening, you just are acting like a fucking asshole!"
"Fuck you, I'm not!"
"Fuck YOU, you ARE!"
"Hey can I borrow this shirt," Joe asked, ambling in with the shirt in question in his hand. He stopped short and gaped at the scene in front of him. Pete was standing on one end of the counter, a murderous look on his face. Ricki was standing at the other, her face contorted from its usual loveliness to an angry war mask, complete with splashes of milk and an indignant glare.
Joe backtracked with his hands in the air. "I'll just go." He grabbed his keys and bag and left as fast as he could. Whatever Pete and Ricki were fighting about it was always better to stay out of it.
"And now your punk ass scared Joe right out this apartment," Ricki glared.
Pete balled his fists and shoved them into his pockets. "Oh and I bet you're so fucking upset since you've been batting your eyelashes at him lately."
She stuck her hip out, placing an angry hand on it. "And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh come ON," he groaned. "Everyone has seen the looks you've been shooting at him. Why don't you just fuck him and ruin it already?"
Ricki held herself back from flying at him and beating him to a pulp. "Oh what the fuck ever. Do NOT turn this round on me Pete. You need to get your head out of your ass and tell me what the hell is up with you?"
"I'm trying to tell you," he roared, making her flinch. He counted to ten but only got to 3 when he yelled again. "I'm trying to tell you that I can't handle Patrick being gay!"
Ricki snapped her head back as if he had physically hit her. She stared at him for a full two minutes before she trusted herself to speak. "You what?"
Pete sighed, long and frustrated. "I heard...I heard him and Jason in the hotel in London." Ricki leaned forward, trying to catch the whispering sounds Pete was making. "And...and I heard them fighting and I figured he was gonna break up with him, you know? They were having problems."
"I remember," Ricki urged him when he got silent. "Jason couldn't handle the road time and the press and all that. But...what does that have to do with you?"
"Because," he bit off. He sighed and let his hands fall to his side. "Because it just weirds me out. Patrick is gay, he likes guys, he...its weird."
"You didn't have a problem before."
"That was before I heard them having...having..." Pete let himself trail off. His eyes burned and he cast them downward from his best friends stare.
"Get out."
His head snapped up. "What?"
"Get out," she repeated. Her face had that angry tribal look again. "If you think so fucking highly of yourself then you can just get the hell out."
"Why?"
"Because you're being stupid," she huffed. "You think Patrick's sexuality is weird after how many years of knowing him? And you wait till you leave on tour to tell me? That's asshole thinking Pete, especially if you think I'm going to be okay with it."
"But -"
"Fuck you Pete Wentz," she growled. She threw the towel in her hand at him and stalked out. He heard her bedroom door slam and he slumped down to the ground.
"But that's not the whole story Ricki," he whispered to the silence of the apartment.
"No wait, I think he's drooling."
"Why is this fascinating to you? He always drools."
Pete closed his mouth and rolled over, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"See told you there was drool."
"And? Patrick, we can play with Pete later, this bag is about to rip."
Pete grunted, feeling the couch shift as if someone was getting off. He wiped at his mouth again, saliva sticky and wet against his hand. He groaned, opening his eyes. He squinted at the sunlight that was streaming in, idly wondering why it seemed like he had just laid down to sleep and already voices were waking him up.
"Oh look, now you woke him up."
"I didn't, it was probably your loud voice."
"Well I do sing for a living."
"Then I would think you wouldn't talk so much to preserve your voice."
Pete shut his eyes tightly and groaned when he hear the distinct sound of plastic hitting someone's head. He squinted one eye open and didn't stop the tiny smile that ghosted his lips. Patrick was defending himself from several flying objects ranging from an empty Corona box to bottle caps that were being thrown by Ricki.
"What time is it," Pete croaked out when Ricki was defending herself against Patrick's assault.
"Wow, I didn't think it spoke before noon," Ricki grinned. "It's 11:30 sunshine."
Pete groaned and buried his face into the pillow. "It's only 11:30, go back to sleep you two."
Patrick giggled and started gathering the things Ricki had thrown at him earlier. Whether he was going to chuck them back at her was still something he hadn't made up. "I think you had said something to Ricki about helping cleaning up."
Ricki chuckled when she felt a bottle cap hit her back as she bent down to pick up more cups. "Stop throwing things at me first of all. And secondly, Pete always says he's gonna help clean up. Then he sleeps on the couch and gets mad when we throw things at him. It's the way of life."
"I'm about to throw a punch if you two don't shut up," he moaned, his voice muffled by the pillow.
Patrick threw one last bottle cap for good measure. "You know, this is the most he's spoken to me without mumbling in like a month."
Ricki gave Pete's still form a glance before throwing the bottle cap back at Patrick. "Really? That must be a luxury. He's been at my apartment every day for the past month. That kid doesn't know when to shut up."
Pete lifted his head and squinted at Ricki. "I can hear you, you know."
She grinned. "That's the best part." She giggled when he got up suddenly and made his way out of the living room. "Aw, did we make Petey mad?"
Patrick chuckled when he just flipped her off and shut the door to the bathroom. He continued stuffing trash into a black bag. "Really, he's been over a lot?"
"Yeah," she sighed, tying her bag closed. "He'd either spend a couple nights in a row or be here really early and leave when he drops me from work."
He readjusted his cap thoughtfully. "Huh. He hasn't called me since we got back from the UK."
They both gave each other a glance. "Something's up," she murmured, Patrick nodding in agreeance slowly.
"Jesus Christ its cold in here," Joe commented, shuffling in, wrapped in a blanket. He sat down on the couch and watched with his friends clean with tired eyes. "So you aren't going to put the heater on?"
Ricki rolled her eyes good naturally at him. "It is on. You should put some clothes on."
Joe grinned, his eyes glittering. "But I thought you liked taking them off?"
She blushed and threw a pillow at him. "You're an idiot."
Patrick moved the full trash bags beside the door. "You've taken his clothes off before?"
"What about clothes off," Pete asked, walking back into the living. His wet hair and change of clothes indicated that he had showered, but the droop of his eyes showed he was still tired. He grinned broadly and expanded his arms. "Told you I'd clean up."
"Yes, sleeping on the couch helped so much," Ricki said sarcastically. She sat on her now clean floor and raised her eyebrows at Joe. "That's my blanket."
"I know," he said indifferently. "Do you still have pizza?"
"I stuck it in the oven to keep it somewhat warm," Patrick commented, sitting on the arm of the couch by Pete.
"I'm cold...can you stick something in me to keep me warm," Ricki asked, letting her legs drop open, her mouth prettily pouty.
Pete let out a bark of a laugh, laughing harder when he saw the blush creep around Patrick's throat. Ricki giggled and flashed Patrick a bright grin. Joe glowered before standing up suddenly. He muttered something about "showering" and "dumbasses" before the click of the bathroom door was heard.
Ricki gave the closed door a curious look before glancing up at Pete. "So what are we doing today?"
"Why is it up to me?"
"Because every time we suggest something you always say no," Patrick answered matter-of-factly.
Pete's eyes widened once before he cast his eyes downward. His causal sitting position stiffened up, his mind finally catching up to realization that Patrick was sitting right next to him. Ricki raised an eyebrow at Patrick who didn't even try to hide the confused look that veiled his face.
"Well...uh...I'm gonna go...do something," Patrick mumbled, glancing at
Pete as he stood up. "Give me a call, later." After placing a quick kiss on Ricki's head and shooting another glance at Pete's bowed head, he left.
"Okay what the fuck is your problem," Ricki demanded.
"Nothing," Pete mumbled, slowing raising his head. He looked around timidly, fully expecting Patrick to come bursting out yelling "Gotcha". He looked at his best friend, his eyes revealing the war inside his head. "There's nothing wrong."
Ricki gave him a look. "Why are you being rude to Patrick then?"
"I'm not being rude."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
"YES you are."
He glared at her and got off the couch. "I treat Patrick the same as I always have."
She got up and followed him to the kitchen. Eyeing him as he prepared himself a bowl of cereal she hopped up to sit on her counter. "You know," she muttered when he had devoured the first bowl and was pouring himself a second. "You have been acting weird towards Patrick."
Pete placed his now empty bowl into the sink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You just won't give up will you?"
Ricki perked up. "So you admit you've been acting weird?"
Pete rubbed his elbow, letting his hand trace one of his tattoos. "I've been thinking about shit and the day we returned to the states, I realized what my problem is."
"Wait," she demanded, her eyes twinkling. "It took you another trip overseas to realize that something is wrong with you?"
He gave her a bland look. "Har, har, har. I'm being serious here."
She giggled and set her lips. "Okay I'm serious now."
"Well you know how Patrick's gay," he asked slowly.
"Patrick's gay," she exclaimed, jumping off the counter. "Wow...I never knew!"
"Will you stop," he asked angrily. "I'm pouring my heart out and you keep fucking around."
"Well who spit in your bean curd," she mumbled, getting herself a bowl of cereal. She leaned against the counter opposite her best friend, raising her eyebrow over her bowl of cereal. "Since when have you lost your sense of humor?"
"Well I'm trying to tell you something important and you keep messing around," he told her, his voice slightly hysterical.
Ricki chewed thoughtfully. "You know...you're overracting a bit."
"No I'm not," he practically yelled. He leaned off the counter and threw his arms in the air. "I'm telling you something important, something life changing and all you can do is stand there and laugh at me!"
"I'm not lau-"
"Yes you are," he exploded, startling her. Milk and cereal sloshed over and spilled down her shirt.
"What the fuck Wentz," she demanded angrily. She set down her bowl, dabbing at her milk drenched shirt with a hand towel. "Why are you getting so mad?"
"Because you're not listening to me," he yelled.
Her eyes widened. "I'm fucking listening, you just are acting like a fucking asshole!"
"Fuck you, I'm not!"
"Fuck YOU, you ARE!"
"Hey can I borrow this shirt," Joe asked, ambling in with the shirt in question in his hand. He stopped short and gaped at the scene in front of him. Pete was standing on one end of the counter, a murderous look on his face. Ricki was standing at the other, her face contorted from its usual loveliness to an angry war mask, complete with splashes of milk and an indignant glare.
Joe backtracked with his hands in the air. "I'll just go." He grabbed his keys and bag and left as fast as he could. Whatever Pete and Ricki were fighting about it was always better to stay out of it.
"And now your punk ass scared Joe right out this apartment," Ricki glared.
Pete balled his fists and shoved them into his pockets. "Oh and I bet you're so fucking upset since you've been batting your eyelashes at him lately."
She stuck her hip out, placing an angry hand on it. "And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh come ON," he groaned. "Everyone has seen the looks you've been shooting at him. Why don't you just fuck him and ruin it already?"
Ricki held herself back from flying at him and beating him to a pulp. "Oh what the fuck ever. Do NOT turn this round on me Pete. You need to get your head out of your ass and tell me what the hell is up with you?"
"I'm trying to tell you," he roared, making her flinch. He counted to ten but only got to 3 when he yelled again. "I'm trying to tell you that I can't handle Patrick being gay!"
Ricki snapped her head back as if he had physically hit her. She stared at him for a full two minutes before she trusted herself to speak. "You what?"
Pete sighed, long and frustrated. "I heard...I heard him and Jason in the hotel in London." Ricki leaned forward, trying to catch the whispering sounds Pete was making. "And...and I heard them fighting and I figured he was gonna break up with him, you know? They were having problems."
"I remember," Ricki urged him when he got silent. "Jason couldn't handle the road time and the press and all that. But...what does that have to do with you?"
"Because," he bit off. He sighed and let his hands fall to his side. "Because it just weirds me out. Patrick is gay, he likes guys, he...its weird."
"You didn't have a problem before."
"That was before I heard them having...having..." Pete let himself trail off. His eyes burned and he cast them downward from his best friends stare.
"Get out."
His head snapped up. "What?"
"Get out," she repeated. Her face had that angry tribal look again. "If you think so fucking highly of yourself then you can just get the hell out."
"Why?"
"Because you're being stupid," she huffed. "You think Patrick's sexuality is weird after how many years of knowing him? And you wait till you leave on tour to tell me? That's asshole thinking Pete, especially if you think I'm going to be okay with it."
"But -"
"Fuck you Pete Wentz," she growled. She threw the towel in her hand at him and stalked out. He heard her bedroom door slam and he slumped down to the ground.
"But that's not the whole story Ricki," he whispered to the silence of the apartment.
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