A Handful Of Moments You Wish You Could Change (Patrick Stump Imagine Story)

A N-N-Nervous Wreck

Later that day, you're in Ethan's room, cleaning some things up while he's out with some of his friends - Gabby's in her bedroom playing with her dolls and Patrick's god knows where - when you come across a book buried underneath a pile of dirty clothes.

You push the dirty clothes aside - making a mental reminder to yourself to clean them later - and take hold of the book, picking it up off of the ground and gasping, realizing what it is.

It's an old photo album, filled with photographs that captured the priceless memories and milestones of Ethan's childhood.

You sit down on the ground and open it, seeing the first page where the pictures from the day Ethan was born were showcased behind plastic slip covers. You flip the next page and see that these pictures were from a couple   days after, specifically the day you brought Ethan home.

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You're sitting in the backseat of Patrick's car with your newborn son lying in the baby carrier that doubled as a car seat. You look down at him admiringly while Patrick drives, eying you in the rear view mirror. Ethan looks so small, wrapped up in that generic baby blanket all the hospitals seem to have and then wrapped up in a blanket Mrs. Stumph had given you at your baby shower. And on top of that was this little stuffed elephant your step-sister had bought for her nephew.

You meet Patrick's worried gaze and smirk, "What?"

"N-Nothing," He stammers, returning his gaze to the road ahead of him, "It's comfortable enough back there, right? Is he okay?"

You chuckle, "Patrick, he's fine. Maybe a little overheated with how many layers he's wrapped up in, but he's fine. You don't need to be so nervous."

"This is my first time being a dad, (Y/N)," He replies, his grip on the steering wheel growing tight and gradually turning his knuckles white, "Of course I'm going to be nervous. Just being out on the road makes me nervous. What if we get in a crash?"

You lean back in your seat, "Have you gotten in a crash before?"

"No. But that's not to say that I won't."

You heave a sigh, "Patrick we're going to be-" The car jerks forward as Patrick slams on the breaks, abruptly stopping at a red light he was about to run through. You're pushed back in your seat and Patrick tenses up. Ethan, remarkably, stays sound asleep. "Not fine if you do that!" You cry, finishing your sentence.

"Sorry," He apologizes, his cheeks blushing a deep red color. "I wasn't paying attention and...and I'm so sorry. This is why I'm nervous!"

You shake your head, "Just calm down, Patrick. Everything's going to be fine."

*****

You and Patrick are rushing around the house in search of the little elephant, your son's favorite toy. He's screaming his head off, tears streaming down his cheeks as he clings to the side of his crib in the nursery. You and your husband are tearing the house apart, trying to find a toy you're not even sure is the reason he's crying.

"Where the hell is it!?!" Patrick yells as you and him cross paths for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes.

"I don't fucking know!" You shout back as you go back into the living room for the third time and starting looking under the couches and coffee tables and end tables, basically anywhere this toy can be.

You lie down on the floor and heave a sigh, flirting with the idea of just joining your son in his sob fest.

This past month has been torture for you and Patrick. You can't sleep through the night, you're always forgetting something whenever you leave the house - whether it be Ethan's diaper bag or Ethan himself - and you're doubting whether or not you're meant for something like this.

Patrick peers into the living room, panting as he leans against the threshold and sees you on the ground. "Did you find it?"

You shake your head no.

He heaves a sigh and drags himself into the room, lying down beside you. His chest rises up and down rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. "I don't think I've ever done so much running in my entire life," He admits, chuckling a bit.

You turn your head to look at him, a smirk slowly crawling on your face.

"Why does he love that elephant so much anyways?" He thinks aloud, "You know, I saw that elephant in the hospital gift shop...your sister probably got it for him right before coming up to see you."

"Well, I don't think where my sister got it really matters to him."

"Still. It's cheap."

"She's only a teenager, Pat. What do you expect her to do, go to-"

Patrick gasps and grabs your shoulder, "Do...Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

He "shh"s you, putting his finger up to your lips. You give him a bizarre look as the house falls silent. Dead silent.

Patrick looks back to you and whispers, the corners of his lips curled up, "Now do you hear it?" You stare at him blankly, "He stopped crying, (Y/N). Ethan stopped crying!" He laughs before pulling you in and crashing his lips into yours.

You pull away and giggle, "Oh my god, Patrick, we're such horrible parents. We let our son cry himself to sleep."

Patrick shrugs his shoulders, "I'm sure he'll get over it."

You gasp in disbelief and smack him on the arm.