Patrick Stump/Fall Out Boy Imagines

[PETE] The Guy Next Door 3

You're watching a movie by yourself one night, a few months into living in your new home, when you hear a loud sound come from outside. You roll your eyes and sit up from your slouched position on the couch, peering over your shoulder and out the window to watch as Pete and his drunken friends stumble up the walkway to his house, being as obnoxious as possible by laughing their heads off and screaming when its not necessary. You notice Patrick from the day you first moved in, but there are a couple others that you've never seen before. You shake your head and return your attention back to the television, turning the volume up to drown them out.

The small group bursts through Pete's front door and wander their way into the kitchen, where the curly haired one of the bunch, Joe, breaks open the fridge and pulls out more drinks.

"So are you going to tell us who that girl is next door, Pete?" He inquires drunkenly, having noticed you on his way inside.

Pete hoists himself up onto the countertop and sits down. "Who are you talking about?"

"Oh you know," Patrick slurs, leaning against Pete and smiling up at him, "The girl you blew it with. The one who moved in a few months ago."

He scoffs. "I didn't blow it with her."

"So you just blew her then," Joe rationalizes, earning a look of agreement from Patrick who nods his head and shoots his index finger in Joe's direction.

Andy - the fourth and only sober member of the group - heaves a sigh and takes the beer cans out of Joe's hand, not wanting him or any of the others to get any more intoxicated than they already were. "Leave him alone, guys."

"No, he's been talking about her forever and I want to know about this girl he blew," The guitarist in their band whines, making grabby hands at the alcoholic beverages in the drummer's hands.

"I didn't blow her, Joe!" Pete yells with an inebriated chuckle, wrapping his arm around Patrick and holding him close.

"Is this her right here?" Joe questions, staggering toward the refrigerator and yanking off the photograph his friend had displayed on the magnetic door. The photo is of you and Pete from a couple of weeks ago, when the two of you had a "rainy day in" and spent the whole day together.

The photo looks like it was taken for his Myspace profile picture, the camera angled over the two of you in Pete's hand while you look up at it with funny faces. Pete's glaring up at the lens, his hair nearly covering his eyes. As for you, you're winking with your tongue sticking out. You told him to get rid of the picture after taking it, but he couldn't part with it. It meant too much to him.

"She's cute," He comments, staring at your half of the picture.

"Hey, give that back," Pete murmurs, jumping down from the counter and causing Patrick to fall forward, the world slipping out from underneath his feet. Your neighbor chases his friend around the kitchen for a little before shoving him into a wall and snatching the photo out of his hands.

"Ouch! Why does it matter so much?" Joe cries, peeling himself away from the wall and watching Pete pin the picture back up on the refrigeration. "You're not seeing her, are you?"

He shakes his head with a sigh. "No, she's just my neighbor."

"So she's single."

"She doesn't like guys like you, Joe," He mumbled, staring at the photograph himself. The corner of his lip perks upward. "She's done dating guys who don't deserve her."

Just then, everyone hears Patrick retch and before they know it, vomit sprays across the room, the second youngest of the four clasping his hands over his mouth in an attempt to stop the expulsion from happening.

Andy sighs in disappointment, bringing his hand up to his forehead. "I told you you guys shouldn't have encouraged him to join your stupid drinking game."

Pete frowns and trudges out of the room. "I'll go get him some clothes to change into."

"And I'll go get the mop and bucket," Joe groans, following Pete out.

*****

Patrick's eyes flutter open and he surveys the room around him. A low moan slips past his lips as he rolls up, finding that he's sprawled out over Pete's couch and adorned with clothes that are a little too tight on him. "Pete?" He croaks, his throat raspy and hoarse. He goes to get up when his foot lands in something squishy. He slowly looks down and sees that he placed his foot in a bucket, a bucket filled with what he can only assume is his own puke. "PETE!" He screams angrily.

"What the hell, Patrick?" Pete shouts as he storms down the stairs, dressed only in his boxers and a toothbrush between his lips.

"What happened last night?" He asks him, scratchy behind his head as Pete rolls his eyes and approaches his friend.

"What do you think happened? You got shitface drunk," The bassist answers, sitting down beside Patrick and continuing to brush his teeth. He notices where Patrick's foot is and laughs. "Nice going, man."

Before Patrick can shoot back a sarcastic response, a knock rattles on Pete's front door. "I'll get it!" The homeowner exclaims, rising to his feet and going to answer it. When he opens the door, he sees you on his doorstep, dressed in a pair of soft shorts and a t-shirt that hugs your torso in a complimenting way.

"Hey Neighbor," You greet tiredly.

"Hey, (Y/N)," Pete responds, tossing the toothbrush to the side and swallowing the blue, minty foam inside his mouth, "What's up?" Patrick hears your name and immediately perks up, leaning forward and watching the exchange between the two of you.

"The mailman gave me your mail again," You retort, handing him the small stack of envelopes.

"Oh, thanks." He takes the mail into his possession and smacks them against his hands once or twice before saying, "So, um, I was watching the weather and there's supposed to be rain tomorrow."

"Oh is it?" You ask, crossing your arms.

"Yeah, so..." He clasps his hands behind his back and inquires, "...are you doing anything?"

A smirk crawls onto your face, as well as a blush in your cheeks. "I'll see I have any plans and get back to you on that, alright?"

"Alright," He replies, his already wide smile growing even wider. You turn away and retreat back to your house, Pete closing the door behind you. He spins around and sees Patrick smirking at him. "What?"

"Ooh, you like her," He accuses him with a teasing tone to his voice.

"What? No I don't." Pete swoops up his toothbrush from the ground and brushes off the dirt.

"You totally do!"

"No. All she is to me is my neighbor that I tell you losers about because I want to shove it in your face how lucky I am. I mean, none of you live next to a girl like that, do you?"

Patrick folds his arms over his chest. "Okay, Pete, whatever you say."

"You know? Shut up. At least I don't have my foot stuck in a bucket of puke," He sneers before escaping back upstairs to hide his growing embarrassment.

I didn't know how much you'd mean to me back then. I thought you were just the cute neighbor I would tell all my friends about to make them jealous. But you turned out to be something more than that.