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

Epilogue

Patrick sat down in the chair he was assigned to and heaved a sigh, tapping his foot anxiously as he waited for the person he was seeing to sit down across from him. In his hands were a few pictures to show them. He began to flick through the small collection, a smile growing on his face as the glint coming from the golden band wrapped around the fourth finger of his left hand caught his eye.

When he looked back up, the person he was anticipating was there before him. They appeared different, but not to the point where they weren't recognizable. Patrick picked up the phone and so did they.

"Long time no see, Patrick," The person remarked, the corners of their lips curling up into their classic grin, "You're looking good."

"Thanks, Pete," Patrick replied, his cheeks blushing in embarrassment, "You're looking pretty good too."

Pete chuckled, "What are you talking about? I look horrible. I feel like I do, at least, I haven't showered in days. Someone stole my soap and I don't get a new one for another week."

The singer sighed, "I know the feeling."

The imprisoned bassist noticed the photographs in his friend's hand and leaned forward, speaking into the telephone, "What do you got there?"

"Oh, here," He pinched the phone in between his shoulder and ear so he could place one of the pictures on the ledge of the glass window separating the two, holding it up against it so that Pete could see it, "This is from Bronx's soccer game last week. It was the championship and his team won. He even made the winning kick."

"No way!" Pete laughed, "That's amazing!"

"Mhmm...and here's a picture of Saint and Declan from their first day of third grade," Patrick swapped out the pictures.

"Wait, what happened to all of Saint's hair?" He inquired, noticing the buzz cut on his child. Last time he saw him, when he came to visit him a little while back - maybe seven or eight months ago - had a full head of hair.

"Well Saint wanted to get a haircut, but Jane and I both were too busy to take him to get one when he wanted it, so he decided to get one himself at home." Pete shook his head, a smile stretched across his face. "Let's just say I don't think Declan's going to be a barber in the future."

"No he will not," The prisoner chuckled.

"Oh, and here's a picture of my son,"  Patrick once again switched out the photographs, however, it wasn't a picture of Declan. Instead, it was a picture of Jane and him, looking down lovingly at the newborn baby in Jane's arms. Pete's eyes grew wide and he looked up to meet his friend's gaze.

"You and Jane had a son?" He inquired, surprised. Patrick nodded his head, the corners of his lip curling upward into a humble smile. "Oh my god! What? When?"

"About two months ago."

"What? How did I not know she was pregnant? Why didn't you tell me?" He shot question after question at him, however, it wasn't out of anger. Instead, it was out of elatedness. His friend had taken his advice. His efforts weren't for nothing. His decisions had proven to be the right ones.

"I wanted to surprise you," Patrick retorted, pulling back the picture and looking at it himself again, "We named him after you, you know."

"You did?"

"Yeah, it was Jane's idea. I wanted something else, but she insisted on naming him after you. A little reminder of what you've done for me, done for us." He failed to hide the rise of red pigmentation in his cheeks.

Pete smiled and sat back in his chair, crossing one of his arms over his chest and using the other one to still hold the phone up to his ear, "Patrick, I told you I was going to keep you out of trouble."

"I know you did," The singer murmured, "And I can't thank you enough for that. Really."

"No need to thank me," He sat forward and rested his elbows on the metal surface, "It's what friends are for."

Patrick smirked and placed his free hand on the glass. Pete matched his opposite one up to his and mirrored his facial expression.