Patrick Stump/Fall Out Boy Imagines

[PATRICK] Fedoras...I Can't

You're at a nice restaurant with your husband of two years, Patrick, celebrating your anniversary. You're both scanning the menus, trying to decide what you're going to get tonight, when you overhear another table's conversation.

"Fedoras...I can't." A female's voice says.

"Really?" A male's responds.

You look over your shoulder, trying to pinpoint the source of this conversation.

"Yeah. Whether you're a guy or a girl, you shouldn't wear them. It is never okay."

"Come on..."

"Okay, maybe if you're Freddy Kreuger. You know, I actually can understand why they made Freddy Kreuger wear a fedora. Because a man trying to kill me, wearing something like that on his head? It's my worst fucking nightmare."

You return your attention to your own table, unsuccessfully spotting the woman who had voiced her opinion on the hat, and notice that Patrick has the nastiest look on his face. You can only assume that he heard the same conversation you just heard.

You reach your hand across the table and place it gently over his, "Hey, don't take it personally, Patrick. If that's what she thinks, she obviously hasn't seen you in one." He tilts his head down, ignoring your remark. "Come on, since when have you listened to what other people think?"

"Since always," He answers bluntly.

You retract your hand from his and place it in your lap with your other one, "Okay, let me rephrase, since when has a complete stranger's opinion on fedoras gotten to you? You know you look amazing in them, Patrick. Everyone does."

"Apparently not."

You roll your eyes, "So what if one person thinks they're only meant for Freddy Kreuger?" He sighs and picks up his menu, not answering you. "Patrick, don't let it get to you."

"I'm not."

You shake your head and pick your menu up, "Whatever you say..."

*****

You're in bed later that evening, waiting for Patrick to come and join you. He's been in the bathroom that comes off of the bedroom you two sleep in for more than fifteen minutes. You're starting to get worried.

You become impatient and decide to go check on him. You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand up, walking into the bathroom and finding Patrick staring at himself in the mirror above the sink, removing his fedora from his head, looking at himself without it for a little, then replacing it and looking at himself with it for a little before taking it off again.

You sigh and walk up behind him, snaking your arms around his front and mumbling, "You let it get to you."

"I know, (Y/N). It's just..."

"It's just what?"

He shrugs his shoulders and sets his favorite hat down on the counter, "It's just...I really care about other people's opinions, and what they think of me."

"You know whose opinion matters the most?" You look at him in the mirror.

"No. Whose?"

"Yours," You remove one of your arms from around him and grab his fedora, placing it on his head and smirking, "And if you like the fedora and how it looks on you, then who cares about what others think?"

He glances over his shoulder at you and smiles, "You really think so?"

"One hundred percent," You retort, leaning in and giving him a quick kiss on the lips.