Keep Me Out Of Trouble (FOB FanFic ft. Brendon Urie)

Chapter 17

I chuckled nervously and ran a hand through my black hair, meeting her curious gaze.

I didn't know why I was having so much trouble telling her I was me. Because I wanted her to know, I honestly did. But there was just something holding me back. And I don't know what that something was.

"It...It's kind of hard to explain," I gave as my reason, though it was an obvious cop out.

"Is it like a 'if I told you, I'd have to kill you' kind of situation?" She joked, smiling that smile that always made me feel better when I was locked up in that narrow, white-brick walled room.

I laughed, "Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But it looks like you'll never know."

She heaved a sigh, "Fine, but because of that, I'm getting the most expensive dessert on the menu."

I scoffed playfully, "Wow, really? First date and you're already buying the most expensive dessert? I am just a bartender, you know."

She giggled, her cheeks growing a deep shade of red that complemented her very well. I grinned.

*****

After dinner (which fortunately did not end with the most expensive dessert), we returned to the bar for a few drinks to finish off the night, which were all on me, of course. We were the only two people there, seeing as it was after hours and I really shouldn't have even been there.

The more we drank, the more undone we became. We talked about everything and anything, and even though I was inebriated, I still managed to keep who I really was a secret.

It wasn't long before we ditched the bar and went to my place.

The two of us stumbled through the front door, locked at the lips and our arms wrapped around one another. Once we stepped inside, she pushed me up against the door and it closed with a click. I ran my hands up her sides and around to her back and began to unzip her dress. She voluntarily folded the top half of her dress down to reveal her black bra, grabbing my hands and placing them on her chest, all while keeping her lips connected to mine. My eyes widened in surprise.

She broke the kiss to catch her breath and glanced up at me, "You know," She leaned in and smiled, "You remind me of someone I used to know...you've got his smile."

As if on cue, the corner of my lips curled up, "Really?"

She returned the gesture and nodded her head, "Yeah, remember that convict I told you about? The one who was really sweet and didn't belong there?" She looked down and ripped my shirt open, accidentally popping off one of the buttons, "You remind me of him."

"What was his name?" I asked.

"Patrick," She answered quickly before crashing her lips into mine, pulling us away from the door.

Nearly tripping over our feet, she and I fell onto the couch together and she wrapped her legs around my waist, holding me closer to her and intensifying the intimate moment. Slowly but surely, I could feel that sensation I hadn't felt in a while starting to grow. I had to stop things before they got out of hand. "Jane, I can't," I muttered as I lifted myself up off of her, "I just can't." I couldn't do this knowing she thought I was someone else. She needed and deserved to know.

"What do you mean you can't?" She retorted, pouting her lips out.

"There's something you need to know."

She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, "Please don't tell me you have a girlfriend. I don't want to be the other woman. I hate the other woman."

I shook my head, "No, no, that's not it. It's just..." Here it was. "...it's me, Jane." I glanced back over at her. "I'm Patrick."

Jane stared at me for the longest time before the corner of her lip curled upward, "No you're not."

"Yes I am," I tried to tell her, "I'm Patrick!"

She shook her head and sat up, "No you're not. Stop it."

"Jane!"

"This isn't funny, Donnie!" She snapped, swinging her legs over the side of the couch and standing up, slipping her dress back on.

"I'm not trying to be funny, Jane! It's me!" I exclaimed, rising to my feet and turning her around to face me. She looked up at me with glistening eyes. "It's me," I repeated softer, tucking a piece of her hair that had fallen out of her clip behind her ear, "It's really me."

"And you want me to believe you? How do I know you're not lying to me?" She inquired angrily, taking a step away from me and eyeing me cautiously, "I've had people lie to me all my life, Donnie, and I don't need you lying to me too."

"I'm not lying to you, Jane," I attempted to convince her, shaking my hands out of frustration, "It's me. How else would I know your name when you walked into the bar? It's not because we met at a party because I was a friend of your sister's, it's because we met in prison and you were my correctional officer. The only reason I'm standing here today and not back in that hell hole is because I convinced Christian to help me run away, to get me a fake I.D. and a way out of town."

"But...But he...And you..." She shook her head and turned away from me, walking over to the bar separating the kitchen from the living room and sitting down on one of the stools. "Oh my god," She put her head in her hands, "This isn't real. It can't be."

I sat down beside her and put my hand on her back comfortingly, "You can't tell anyone, Jane. No one can know I'm me or else I'm fucked."

"Well of course I'm not going to tell anyone," She chuckled, glancing over at me, "Didn't you hear? Elisa came out to the press. She confirmed you were Brendon's attacker and said that Pete witnessed it. There's people everywhere looking for you. She wants you dead, Patrick."