Something Worth Fighting For (Patrick Stump Imagine Story)

They've Been Missing You To Death

It's the next day and you're in the kitchen making Gabby's lunch for school. You've been up since four in the morning, and slipped out of bed at five, as to not seem too suspicious. You don't want Patrick worrying about you any more than he already is.

You finish spreading the peanut butter on the slice of bread and set the knife down, grabbing the slice with grape jelly on it and piecing the two together, using the two spreads as adhesive. You place the sandwich down and pick the knife back up, using a paper towel to wipe off the remaining peanut butter.

As you pull the knife back, the light catches it in such a way that intrigues you. You stare at the shiny metal in a trance almost, your mind wandering to dark places, wondering what it would look like if it was coated in red, your red.

The sound of footsteps pattering down the stairs snaps you out of the daze you'd fallen into and saves you from doing something you'd inevitably regret. You shake your head and discard the paper towel, using the knife to cut the sandwich you've made into four triangles - the way Gabby likes it - rather than you cutting your wrists.

"Well someone's up early," You hear the person who came downstairs greet you. It's Patrick.

"Yeah, I had a bad dream," You fib, snatching a small plastic bag from the box you have out on the counter and putting the sandwich into it, "I couldn't fall back asleep."

"Oh, I'm sorry, hon," He retorts, slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him, "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Not really," You extend your hand out and grab Gabby's Doctor Who tin lunch box which isn't too far out of your reach. You throw the sandwich in.

"Well, I had a good one. Do you want to hear it?"

"Sure," You say, though you really don't want to.

"Well it started off with me standing in the shadows in the wings of a concert venue, looking out onto the stage that was completely dark. My heart was pounding as I heard the roar of the crowd-"

"Did it give you heartache to sing?" You can't help but make the reference, smiling back at Patrick who shakes his head and gives you that No, (Y/N), Just No look, though he can't keep it for long and eventually smiles back.

"Wow, (Y/N), you're so funny," He says sarcastically.

"I try," You smirk and turn your head back, closing up your daughter's lunch box.

"So, as I was saying, I heard the roar of the crowd and I was sweating like crazy, nervous as hell. Like, worse than I was the first time I ever went on stage," Patrick goes onto to reiterate his dream to you, "I think it was our first show after our second comeback. Not the one after Folie A Deux, but the one after our little break after American Beauty/American Psycho. The fans were chanting our name, anticipating us to strike that first chord of the first song we were going to play and step on stage to rock our hearts out like we used to. But before I stepped on stage, a hand gripped my shoulder..."

He trails his hand up from your waist to your shoulder.

"...and I was turned around."

He spins you around so that you're facing him, but still in his arms.

"It was you. I told you I was nervous, despite all the odds seeming to be in our favor...with a sold out show, great openings acts, the crowd pumped up and waiting to see us - there's no doubt that it was going to be good. But I couldn't shake the bad feeling I had. And you know what you said to me?"

You shake your head no.

"Come on, guess."

"Um...that you've got nothing to worry about?"

"Close. You told me that they've been missing me to death...because, you know, gotta love you and your references..." You giggle, finding no way to disagree with him. He grins and continues, "...and then you told me that I've got nothing to worry about. So you were, like, half right. But after that, you leaned in and..." He does what he claims you did and connects his lips with yours, pushing you against the kitchen counter and deepening the kiss. A familiar sensation starts to grow in the lower pit of your stomach and you pull Patrick closer.

He slips his hands underneath your thighs and lifts you onto the counter, pushing the knife and lunch box to the side, inevitably causing them to fall to the floor. He breaks the kiss and moves his head to the crook of your neck, his lips grazing your skin as you wrap your legs around him.

You stifle a moan that wants to escape your mouth, closing your eyes and tilting your head back.

Just as Patrick glides his hand up your thigh and underneath your silk, spaghetti-strap nightgown, you hear a loud "OH MY GOD!" that it isn't from you or Patrick.

Your eyes pop open and you look over Patrick to see your son standing in the doorway, a horrified expression marking his face. You push your husband away from you and jump down from the counter, straightening out the front of your nightgown. Patrick's cheeks grow a deep shade of red, keeping his back to the teenager.

"Ethan, you-" You try to defend yourself and Patrick when your son cuts you off.

"Oh my god, if you guys are going to do that, do it in your fucking bedroom! Not in the fucking kitchen where I've got to make my lunch!" He screams, "Ugh! You know what? I think I'm just going to buy lunch today. And for the rest of the year. You guys are disgusting!" He throws his hands in the air and turns out of the room.

Patrick looks over at you with a embarrassed grin. You blush insanely, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

Author's Note: Hey guys, I'm sorry if this was as bad as I think it is. This update doesn't really have much to do with the plot, but I wrote it a little while ago and, well, I wouldn't know how to rewrite it if I decided to. Plus, it probably didn't help that I tried to dabble in writing a little bit of "smut". SO...hopefully the next update will be better. Thanks for reading and I hope you have a good day! -Rachael