There's No Coldness In California (Patrick Stump/FOB Imagine Short Story)

Part 2

(H/N/F/Y) = His Nickname For You

You run into the dance studio with Gabby and all eyes turn to you, belonging to both adults and children. The two of you stand there, catching your breaths.

"Gabby and (Y/N)," The teacher greets you coldly, her hands clasped behind her back, "This is your thirteenth time being late to my class."

"I'm sorry, Elisa, but-"

"This is your thirteenth time," She interrupts you, "You do realize I have a two-time policy, right?" Before you can respond, she continues, "I know you think that, just because your husband and I are good acquaintances, you don't have to follow the rules. But you do, just like everyone else."

"He's not my husband and I can't help it that the roads are bad," You justify yourself, "I'm sorry I'd rather get my daughter here safely and late than carelessly and on time. And besides, at least I come here every day." Unlike some of the moms here, you want to tack on but refrain from doing so.

She rolls her eyes and waves Gabby forward. Your daughter looks back at you with wide eyes before timidly joining the other small girls dressed in leotards and tights. You make your way over to where all the other moms are sitting and lower yourself down into a chair at the end, ignoring the murmurs the other moms are sharing and making yourself comfortable. You know the other moms don't like you, you just don't know why. That's why you usually invite one of the guys to come with you. They've become a huge part in both yours and Gabby's lives.

Since Patrick was away working on his solo career - be it slaving away at a song or traveling around the country or world on tour - and wasn't home that often, you and your daughter were left to fend for yourselves. The guys came in when, one day, you had to work and your mom couldn't watch Gabby for you. Andy was the first to offer to watch her, and was more than willing to do so. The other two jumped in when Andy couldn't, and since then, you, the guys, and Gabby have formed this sort of pieced-together family. The five of you do everything together, including Gabby's dance classes.

A few minutes into the class, while the girls were warming up, the door opens once again and Pete stumbles in, covered in snow. A smile crawls onto your face whereas Elisa frowns.

"Are there any other people going to interrupt my class?" She grumbles to herself.

"Sorry, Lisa," Pete apologizes, shaking himself off before making his way over and sitting down beside you.

"It's Elisa," She reminds him coldly, "And for the last time, Pete, you're not welcome to come to these classes! You're not a student's parent or guardian!"

"But (Y/N) invited me," He simply replies, wrapping his arm around you back and sitting more comfortably in the chair he was in, "And if you think about it, I'm technically Gabby's parent or guardian. I'm stepping in for Patrick."

Elisa rolls her eyes before returning her attention to her students, getting them ready to start practicing their dance for the recital that's coming up.

You look over at Pete and poke him in the chest. "Psst." He meets your gaze. You lean in and whisper, "You won't believe who came home today."

"Who?"

"Patrick."

"Patrick? But I thought last time you and him met up, he said he was staying in California."

"That's what I thought too, but...as I went to leave for this class, there was a knock on my door and when I opened it, he was standing outside."

"Well...what'd you do?"

"What do you mean what did I do? I let him in. It's just as much his house as it is mine. I don't even know why he knocked." Pete gives you a weird look, as if to say, what's wrong with you? "What?" You ask.

"What do you mean 'what'? You're acting like what happened in California didn't happen, (Y/N)."

You shift awkwardly in your chair, remembering the day you went to visit him a while back.

You're making your way through the airport, Gabby - who at the time is just shy of being two - in one arm and in the other, your duffel bag. You thought the Chicago airport was bad, but the Los Angeles one was terrible. People are brushing past you inconsiderately, not even bothering to mutter an apology to you or your daughter.

You break through the crowd at one point and just stand there, scanning the terminal for a familiar face - namely Patrick's. You heave a disappointed sigh, not seeing him anywhere.

Just as you're about to turn around, hands are placed on your hips and you're pulled back into to someone else's body. "You guys don't look like you live in L.A.," The person murmurs into your ear, their voice sending a tingling sensation down your spine and bringing a smile to your face.

You spin around and see Patrick standing before you, a smile plastered on his face, distracting you from the bags underneath his eyes. "Patrick!" You exclaim, "For a second there, I thought you weren't going to show up."

He laughs. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know," You admit, a blush creeping up in your cheeks.

His eyes shift down to your daughter and the grin on his face falters. "Oh, you brought Gabby," He states flatly.

"Yeah," You reply, glancing down at her as well and smirking, "I wanted to leave her with my mom or one of the guys, but they were all busy. Plus, she hasn't seen her dad in eight months. So I thought it'd be nice to bring her along."

"You couldn't have found someone else?" He asks. You meet his gaze. "I mean...I was kind of hoping we could have this week alone, you know, just the two of us. My apartment isn't even kid-proof." Your eyebrows furrow together as you find yourself at a loss for words. He looks back down at the near two year old and sighs, ruffling her hair a little bit. "We'll just have to make it work, I guess."

The three of you leave for Patrick's apartment. The apartment he lives in is on the higher end, with a spacious living room and state-of-the-art kitchen, accompanied by two large bedrooms and two full baths, which you find a little ridiculous seeing as it's only him living there. Nonetheless, it's ten times nicer than the small, quaint house you have back in Chicago with reasonable sized rooms and appliances that are on the brink of death. You have lunch and then Gabby takes her nap. While Gabby's asleep, you and Patrick decide to catch up.

"So how have you been?" He breaks the silence that's blanketed over the two of you.

"I've been okay," You tell him honestly, refraining from giving the usual response of "I'm good" because you know that isn't true, "What about you?"

He chuckles. "I've actually been great. L.A. is absolutely amazing. Oh my god, (Y/N), I wish I could stay here forever. It's so awesome. The night life here is killer; there's nearly a party at every place at all times of the day. I literally feel like I'm twenty again."

"But doesn't it get lonely?" You ask him, meeting his gaze, "I mean, all your friends and family are back in Chicago."

"Yeah, but..." He crosses his arms over his chest and sits back in the chair he was sitting in. "...I've got friends here. And besides, when you're in L.A., that shitty place doesn't even cross your mind. Honestly, I never want to go back. Ever."

"He basically told you that he didn't want to be with you anymore, (H/N/F/Y), that he didn't want to be a father to Gabby, and that he'd rather party like someone's he not than be home with you and your daughter," Pete reminds you, bringing tears to your eyes, "How could you still treat him with any ounce of kindness after that?"

"I-I think I need to get some fresh air," You mutter, standing up and practically running out of the dance studio.