Patrick Stump One Shots (Complete)

"Baby's Home"

You smiled to yourself. Patrick was coming home today from the tour he was on for his shiny-new double platinum album. (Yay Pat!)

You paced throughout the house, dusting things and making everything tidy. Patrick Patrick Patrick you hummed contently to yourself.

Sighing, you placed your hands on your hips. You swayed on your feet left, right, forwards, back, left, right, forwards, back.

You ran your fingers through your (short/medium/long length) hair and smiled, taking a quick moment to bathe in the now setting sun just outside you sliding glass doors.

Stretching, you heard a jingle and a click. Gasping with excitement, your body tensed up as you spin around and watched the door eagerly.

The door swung open to reveal a tired, sweaty, beat looking Patrick with keys in one hand and two suitcases in the other.

You let out a little squeal, running over to the door.

He jumped a little, holding you in his arms and spinning the two of you around, dropping the bags.

You felt your eyes burn and your throat tighten.
"Oh my God, Patrick, I missed you so much!" You cried into his neck, your arms and legs tightly wrapped around him.

"Oh, baby," he looked at you, tears in his eyes, "I missed you, too."

His eyes were dull and round, almost regretful. You assumed he was just tired and shrugged it off.

He put you down.

"I...." He began, as if he was pondering something, "I'm going to take a shower. You might want to as well after that hug." He smiled brightly. You looked at him and his eyes livened.

"Alright, Stump-O-Matic." You joked, picking up his guitar case and carrying it purposefully to his 'sound-room'.

"Oh, baby," his eyebrows furrowed, "I love you so much." He reached out his hand to touch your face, but soon pulled back, afraid he may harm you.

You looked at him questioningly as he looked away. You grabbed his hand delicately. He jumped.

"We can talk later, Pat." You rubbed your thumb over his hand.

He frowned and walked up the stairs to shower.

He came out of your room with a towel around his waist, ready to get in the shower. He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed.

Baby's tired you thought to yourself, smiling.

Patrick's phone jingled from the dining room table.

"Can you get that, Angel?" He asked sweetly, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door.

Picking up his phone, you heard him pull the faucet knob out of the shower and the water hit the tub floor.

My favorite sound, Baby's home you smiled, again, to yourself.

<Caller ID: UNKNOWN NUMBER>

You looked at the phone questioningly and slid the bar to answer.

"Hola?" You smiled to yourself, speaking into the phone.

"Hello, is Patrick there?" It was a female voice, sweet and cute.

"No, I'm sorry, but I can take a message." You walked over to your desk where you had been working on your book and grabbed a light blue sticky note pad and a black rollerball ink pen Patrick had gotten you for your eighteenth birthday, only three years ago.

"Oh, alright. Thank you." She spoke. You held the phone between your shoulder and your jawline.

She continued, "I'd just like to tell him that he was great the other night."

You smiled to yourself, assuming she was a fan who had just seen a show.

"And to thank him for letting me stay in his bunk with him. It was cold, but we surely warmed up after our little rendezvous. Thank him for the shirt, too. It still smells like him. I think it's cute he likes TMNT." She paused and sighed, "Anyways, just please know I called and thank him for helping me get my mind off my breakup. My name is Erica, if I hadn't mentioned. Are you his secretary?"

Your hand shook as you dropped the pen. Dropping the phone as well, your hand flew to your mouth.

"He.... He didn't..." You attempted to convince yourself as hot tears began pouring out of your eyes.

Just then, Patrick stepped out of the steamy bathroom, a Q-tip in hand, towel back in its usual place around his hips.

"Who was it, babe?" He asked before looking up at you. As he saw your face, he realized.

"My God," you cried, your hands tugging at your hair as you turned around and tried not to collapse.

He was your world, your universe. You knew that seemed cliché, but it was true. You couldn't even do anything without thinking of his gorgeous eyes, big lips. He had completely ruined your mind, all you could think of was him. You had built your life around the two of you and you couldn't just start over.

"I... I..." You tried to process what had just happened.

"That shirt- Patrick, I got you it for your birthday, I... I... I thought you loved it! I can't believe..." You couldn't think straight.

You just stood there, shaking and crying, trying not to puke.

This was such a shock to you, you were practically dry-heaving. Gasping for air, you paced to the kitchen, pulling your hair behind you as you wretched in the sink.

You made a moaning sound as you cried even more.

He just stood there, now at the foot of the stairs.

Seeing how it effected you broke him.

He never said anything.
Nothing after you shouted in his face.
Nothing after you apologized and blamed yourself.
Nothing after you smacked him for not listening.
Nothing after you ran upstairs and threw anything you could grab into a black duffle bag. His black duffle bag.
Nothing after you screamed at him to just "SAY SOMETHING!"
Nothing as you left your house into the pouring rain.
Nothing as you pulled out of the driveway.

And here you were, sitting in your car.

You glanced over at his bag seeing his messy scribble. P Stump.

You shook your head and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

Glancing at the clock, you said to yourself, "Just 48 minutes ago, I was in my home with my favorite person, ecstatic to see him. Now I'm sitting here, trying to forget my entire life."