Patrick Stump/Fall Out Boy Imagines

[PETE - RQ] Not Ready For This

Requested by the wonderful KobraKidisbae. It might not be exactly what you're looking for, but I hope you like it!

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Pete asks you, the two of you standing by the front door of his house. Your hands are wrapped around the tie hung loosely around his neck, and his arms are snaked around your waist, keeping the two of you close. The bassist is dressed to the nines, Fall Out Boy having a press event to go to for their new album tonight. 

You chuckle. "Pete, I'll be fine. It's not like I haven't babysat before."

The corner of his lip perks up into a smirk and he pulls you even closer than you already are. "You're truly amazing, Caitlin, have I told you that? Because you didn't have to do this, honestly."

"I wanted to," You disclose, leaning in and planting a quick kiss on his lips.

Before the moment can grow any more passionate, a high pitched squeak sounds from behind the two of you. "Eww, Daddy's kissing Caitlin!" You and Pete look back to see Pete's son, Saint, standing in the center of the hallway leading to the kitchen in the back of the house. 

If it wasn't for Pete's exes having plans last minute and leaving both Bronx and Saint with their father, you would be going with the band member to the press event. Wanting to prove to Pete that you loved him and were ready to evolve your casual fling into a serious relationship, though, you offered to stay at his place that you've been to more times than you'd like to admit and watch the boys for the night.

"Hey, isn't it almost your bedtime?" Pete questions his youngest son teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not going to bed until Bronx goes to bed!" The blonde boy exclaims before bursting into a fit of giggles and racing up the stairs.

The bassist rolls his eyes and returns his attention to you, whispering, "His bedtime is eight o'clock, okay? Don't let him tell you any different, and if he complains that Bronx gets to stay up later, tell him he doesn't. Both of them need to be in their rooms by eight, but Bronx can stay up until ten playing video games or whatever as long as he's quiet."

You smile and tighten the accessory around Pete's neck, pushing yourself out of his hold and saying, "You're going to be late, Pete. I've got this, I promise."

He looks at you for a little before matching your expression and giving you a quick peck on the lips. "Thank you, Caitlin. I really appreciate this."

"You're welcome," You reply with a chuckle, giving him a slight shove towards the door, "Now go!"

"If you need anything, you have my number," He tells you, opening the door and shooting his index finger in your direction, "I'll be back in a couple hours. Don't forget-"

"GO!" You yell at him playfully. He winks at you and disappears outside, leaving his home and sons in your hands. You stand in the foyer for a moment or two before spinning around and folding your arms over your chest, muttering to yourself, "Okay, Caitlin, you can do this. You babysat your neighbors as a teenager all the time. This shouldn't be any different."

*****

Tears are streaming down your face as excited screams fill your ears, Bronx and Saint jumping on the couches and bouncing off of the walls in the living room while you sit in the bathroom on the closed toilet seat, the door locked and the hamper moved in front of it to act as a barrier. Your hands are shaking as you scroll through the contacts on your phone, where you come across Pete's and open it. 

Your finger hovers over his number as you contemplate whether or not you want to contact him. You want to call him to bring him back home and have him placate his energetic boys, but you know that if you call him, you'll lose your chance of ever being more to him than just the girl he's seeing to pass the time because he'll know you're not capable of taking care of his kids. But you can't take any more of this, it's pure madness; so you call him.

You bring the phone up to your ear and listen to the familiar rings as you wait for the Fall Out Boy member to answer your call. "Come on, come on, come on," You mumble, your leg starting to shake nervously as tears blur your vision.

Just as your about to give up and try calling him again, the ringing comes to an abrupt end and is replaced with a concerned, "Caitlin? Is everything okay?"

"Pete, I-I-" You stammer, "I need you to come home. I-I can't get your boys to go to bed. They...They won't listen to anything I say!"

An annoyed sigh resonates through the speaker, followed by a disappointed, "Okay, I'll be right there."

*****

"What did I tell you?" Pete yells at his youngest son in a whisper, tucking him into his bed rather harshly. You're standing out in the hallway with your arms folded over your chest, your cheeks streaked with dried tears and your eyes bloodshot and puffy. "I told you to be good for Caitlin, and what do you do? You drive her insane!"

"I just wanted to stay up and play with Bronx..." Saint murmurs, pursing his lips out into a pout.

"Well I wanted you to do as Caitlin told you to," The bassist replies to the small boy, standing up and placing his hands on his hips, "One night, Saint, you only had to be good for one night."

"But what about Bronx!"

"Bronx is older than you, Saint," His dad explains, a newfound softness to his voice as he sits down on the small mattress and hangs his head low, "And that's why he gets to stay up later than you. It's not because I like him better or I want to punish you, it's just how things are. So you've got to stop doing this, especially when Caitlin's around more often, you hear me? You need to listen to her, just like you listen to me."

"Why is she going to be around more often?"

"Because I really like her, Saint, and I want her to move in with us one day. But before that happens, I want you to like her too."

Saint turns his head away from his dad, letting out a heavy and exaggerated sigh, "I do like her, Daddy. But I just want to stay up with Bronx."

"Well you can't, okay? It's time for bed." The bassist, still dressed in his suit and tie, leans down and leaves a kiss on Saint's forehead, standing up and leaving the room. He closes the bedroom door decorated in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Pokemon stickers and glances over at you.

"I'm sorry about what happened tonight, Pete," You apologize, feeling genuinely guilty for not being able to keep his boys at bay as you peel yourself away from the wall you were standing against and turn towards Pete, "I just-"

"It's okay," He assures you, taking your hands in his and giving them a slight shake, "I'm the one who should be saying sorry for leaving you with them. I know they can be monsters sometimes and...and I thought they could change for one night, but-"

You slip your hands out of his and frown. "Pete, I don't think I can do this." His facial expression changes into one of horror, thrown off by your remark and afraid of what you're going to say next. "After tonight, I just...I want to be with you, I really do, but I don't think I'm ready. I mean, I can't even put your kids to bed."

"Hey," He mutters, bringing his hands up and placing them underneath your jawline, "Don't say that, okay? Sometimes I can't even put them to bed. But you're great, really. You knew when to call me, and honestly, that shows you're responsible. You don't try to do things you can't do on your own, and I wish I was smart enough to do that when I first started being a dad. I wasn't ready back then, just like you weren't ready tonight. But it just takes times, Caitlin, and with me by your side, you're going to be able to put Bronx and Saint to bed in no time. Just don't leave because of this, please." He swipes his thumb across your cheek. "I love you."

You smile and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. "I love you too." He grins and hugs you back.