Fall Out Boy Imagines and Preferences

Preference #18 Fights

Pete:
"I'm home," you called as you stepped into your and your husband, Pete's house. You had just gotten back from a girls night with Marie and Elisa, and as much as you loved spending time with them, you loved spending time with your boys even more.

"Mommy!" Your son, Bronx squealed, throwing himself into your arms. A look of fear was plastered across his face.

"What's wrong, baby?" You asked, hugging him back tightly.

"It's Daddy," he explained, his eyes wide from fear. "He yelled at me for no reason, and now he won't come out of his office.

"Shoot," you mumbled to yourself. He only acted like that when he didn't take his medicine. "How about I go talk to Daddy, and you stay here and draw Mommy a picture?"

"Okay," he agreed. You kissed his forehead, then made your way down the hall, and to Pete's office.

"Pete?" You gently tapped on the door.

No response.

"Pete, I'm coming in," you announced, before pushing open the door. He was sitting at his desk in the dark. The only light was coming from his laptop screen, and was illuminating his face.

"What?" He glared at you, obviously annoyed.

"I just got back from dinner," you explained, flicking the light switch. "Baby, you've got to turn the lights on in here."

"Fine," he rolled his eyes.

"Honey, did you remember to take your medicine today? Bronx said you yelled at him for no reason."

"God damn it, (Y/N)!" He screamed. "Can't I just be in a bad mood for once? You always assume that I'm pissed because I didn't take my meds!"

"Pete, calm down," you raced over to him, and placed your hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him.

"Don't fucking touch me," he boomed, pushing you away from him. You slammed into the wall, and tears stung your eyes.

"Bronx!" You called out to your son.

"Yeah, Mommy?" He stood in the doorway, too terrified to come any closer.

"Can you do Mommy a favor and grab your suitcase, please?"

"Okay," he nodded, noticing the urgency in your voice.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

"Don't talk to me," you muttered, leaving the room, and going to your bedroom.

"I got it!" Bronx announced a moment later.

"Could you please put in a few t-shirts, some pants, and a couple pairs of underwear?"

"Sure!" He agreed.

"Thank you so much, Bronxy. How about you put some toys in there too? Don't forget the stuffed animals you like to sleep with."

"Answer my questions. Where are you going?" Pete repeated.

"Away from here." By now, you had finished your packing, and we're moving on to Saint, who was currently laying in his crib.

You grabbed his diaper bag, and threw in a few extra sets of cloths, diapers, pacifiers and his favorite toys. You scooped up your son, and went to the front door, where Bronx was already waiting with his Spiderman suitcase.

"Ready to go, Buddy?" He nodded, and you lead him out to the car.

"Where are we going, Mommy?" He asked as you buckled him and his brother into their car seats.