This May Take Some Time and Effort. [Fall Out Boy/Patrick Stump fanfiction]

Chapter Twenty-Six: At Least We Stole the Show

If you guys wouldn't mind, would you check out my new Peterick fic, The Catwalk Knows Something I Don't? Thanks!

I wake up to the quiet thumping of bass, so faint that I almost don't hear it, but I can feel it in my feet as I stand up. Patrick must be recording covers-something's up. He only does that when he's upset.

I make my way through the halls to his studio, yawning and stretching along the way. I put my ear to the door, and when he finishes singing, I slip through, into the room filled with pretty much every instrument you can think of.

"G'morning," I smile, but he doesn't smile back. He doesn't even turn to face me, just selects another song on his phone to sing to.

"Patrick, baby, are you okay?" I ask worriedly, pausing the music and stopping the camera, which is recording all of this. "You seem upset. Did I do something?"

"No," he says simply, and I'm not quite sure which question he's answering, until he says three simple words.

"Go on Twitter." So I do.

I gasp as I see my timeline. Some account called 'fatpat' is sending hate to him.

Just reading the tweets fills me with rage. Who the fuck thinks this is okay? He's not fat, he's not ugly, and he's certainly not a horrible singer. He has the vocal range of a god! Trust me-I would know!

"Patrick, I'm so sorry," I say, wrapping my arms around his middle. He sighs and hugs back, kissing the top of my head lightly.

"You don't believe any of that, do you?" I ask, and he nods, ashamed.

"Oh, baby," I say softly, brushing away a tear rolling down his cheek with my thumb, leaving my hand there, cupping his cheek. "Why? You're gorgeous and talented, and everything I could ever dream of. You're romantic, sweet, funny, and, on top of all that, amazing. You have millions of girls all over you. Obviously you're pretty hot." 

"No, I'm not," he says, taking my hand and lowering it from his cheek, holding it tightly. "When will you realize that? I'm not hot, I'm not talented, and I'm certainly not amazing. You're all of that, and more. I don't think I deserve you."

"And I think that we both have an inferiority complex," I smile, and he laughs quietly, pulling me in for a tight hug.

"Don't listen to them, babe," I say, and he nods. "Just remember that I will always love you, no matter what. You're perfect to me.

"Now c'mon, let's go make breakfast. It's Christmas Eve-there's no time to be sad."

"Wait," he says quietly, and I look up at him, confused. He presses something on his phone, and Lose It by Oh Wonder starts to play. Just like our first date.

He places his hands on my waist, smiling, and I laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck. We start to dance-well, not dance, we mostly just sway side to side-right there in the middle of the studio, blushing like teenagers.

"I love you so much," Patrick smiles, and I smile, too, kissing his lips slow and deep.

"I love you too."
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"'Trick, baby, I need to get dressed," I whine, wiggling to get out of his grasp as we lie on the couch.

"But Cor..." he groans, and I sigh.

"I have to take a shower, c'mon, let me go," I pout, and he pouts back, holding me tight and, somehow, standing up.

"Patrick!" I squeal, and he smiles, pecking my cheek.