He Won't Find Out What I Know
Title : He Won't Find Out What I Know
Summary : Pete has a hard time dealing with the fact that he has to keep his relationship with Patrick a secret. As he takes a drive home; he thinks about how they had first met. Pete/Patrick, with slight nod to Pete/Ashlee
Author : D.J./
sistersamael
Rating : I'd say a light PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own Patrick or Pete. They are their own people and as well, none of this is real.
Author's Notes : This is my first real attempt at Pete/Patrick and RPS in general. So, I'd love some constructive criticism. Be honest but be gentle; I'm sensitive. :)
He Won't Find Out What I Know
Pete walked out of the K-ROQ studio in Los Angeles, his sunglasses on and his hood up, even thought it was a hundred degrees outside. The sunlight prickled against his skin and he headed to his car. On the morning show, Pete was their special guest. They asked questions about the upcoming fall tour, previews on the upcoming Panic! At The Disco album and the usual questions about his personal life. Sometimes, Pete wondered if he was indeed Ryan Ross, because he seemed to love a three-ringed circus. Pete loved the attention. He knew how to whore himself out. He knew how to get people talking about him and his band. But there was something that he wasn't privy to exposing.
"So are you and Ashlee dating?" the disc-jockey asked. His too white and too straight smile made Pete want to punch him.
"No, man. Ashlee and I are just really good friends. We just like to hang out and stuff," Pete said and took a sip of his bottled water, washing down bile and lies.
The whole world believed that Pete Wentz and Ashlee Simpson was a couple. They showed up together at award shows and fashion shows together. Ashlee was nothing more than arm-candy, a front. It was their manager Bob's brilliant idea. "No teenage girl wants to buy an album made by fags," he said. "Teenage girls like to think that they have a change." So, Pete became friends with Ashlee and she had become his version of a Louis Vuitton purse. Pete knew that there were sacrifices to be made in the music business but living the lie was the worst.
In all truth, Pete loved the chubby lead singer known as Patrick Stump. He loved him more than life itself. He was the one he woke up next to in the morning and the very last thing he saw before going to sleep at night. When the music died down, when the fame faded like an old photograph; Patrick was the one that he had wanted to grow old with. Pete sometimes wondered what it would be like if Fall Out Boy hadn't been eaten up by the music machine. What it would be like to be a pair of scene kids still stuck in some Chicago suburb, living for the moment and for the music. It was fantasies like that kept Pete going when things went wrong.
True, that was one benefit that came from a secret relationship. It was something that was completely and utterly his. It was something that the Buzznet, Oh No They Didn't or whatever crowd could not take and exploit. Yes, Pete had seen the speculations and the stories but none of those scene kids had ever come close to the truth. He liked that. He loved knowing those staged kisses on stage were real. He loved the secret cuddling and love making sessions in the back of the tour bus. He loved seeing the parts of Patrick that no one got to see. But sometimes, the secrecy got to be a bit much to swallow.
It got to be a choke-hold, a personal hell. It had felt like he had his mouth eternally covered with duct-tape and he could not pull it off. He smiled nicely for the paparazzi. He held Ashlee's hand and looked cute but he grew tired of the lie. He didn't love Ashlee at all, not at all. He did enjoy her company but he didn't think of her romantically or especially sexually. The one time that they tried to have sex, Pete spent most of it on his cell phone, talking to William Beckett. Ashlee merely rolled over and pretended that she was going to sleep. Pete was just thankful that Ashlee wasn't at his place every night. Patrick was, though, on the nights that Ashlee wasn't there. When Ashlee wasn't there, they lived life like a normal couple but taking baby steps so that no one would catch them with their pants down.
Pete had wondered if he made a press statement, saying that he was with Patrick, what would happen. How would the fans react? He knew he kept his mouth shut partly for reasons that were good for the band and partly selfish reasons. He knew that if such a statement was made, it would be the end of Fall Out Boy. They might still be around but they would not be on the level that they were today and he couldn't do that to Patrick, Andy and Joe. But then, he knew that the taunts and catcalls would be there. It would be going back to High School; hallways filled with the echoes of "faggot" and "cocksucker" and other words he didn't want to hear again. He couldn't hear them again. Closets were safer than being out in the open.
As Pete got into the car, one question had reverberated through his head: how did you meet Patrick? He gave the usual story, the we met in the Chicago scene and created Fall Out Boy together story. But he knew like everything else, it wasn't true. He turned onto Rodeo Drive and he had thought about the truth. He chuckled to himself and he was taken back to a rather balmy September morning.
________________________________________
September, 2001
Chicago, Illinois
Patrick Stump had been late again, bustling through the crowds, as fast as his feet could carry him. He would have asked his mother to drop him off at school but she had left before he had the chance to do so. His father already gone and that had meant that he had to head to school by foot. He knew he had to keep his grades up so he could graduate but he really didn't want to go to school today. For one, he was extremely tired and for another reason; he was still thinking about going to the club last night. It had been an all ages show at one of the best clubs in the Chicago scene. Patrick was filling in as drummer for one of the local High School bands and he had thought that he had done great. He felt amazed by it all and he wanted to relive that night over and over. But no, dawn came and he was needed at school. He tried running as fast as he could but he stopped. It was just too hot to run anywhere.
He looked at the pavement and he had decided that he wasn't going to make it to school today. Today, he was just going to blow it off and he really didn't care at the moment. He knew his parents were going to have his ass once more but the thought of just sitting in a classroom this morning was just too much to bear. He was in his senior year and he was just dying for the year to already be over. There was a bustling, interesting world beyond his High School and he had wanted to be a part of it. He wanted to be out there, making music, being with his friends, in control of his own life. He was going to be eighteen in a few months and graduate in June; why couldn't it be June now?
He walked into Liberty Coffee and Teas, a small coffeehouse in downtown Chicago. He had a few dollars in his pocket and he could get himself a cup of coffee and hang out. He wondered if any of his friends weren't in school today. After coffee, he could go and visit. He knew he couldn't go right back home; even though he would be alone. He ordered his coffee and took a seat at one of the small tables in the back. He looked over at the bookcase standing by the dessert case and he had wondered if the selection was good. He opted to tend to his own thoughts and he wanted to work on a new song anyways. He sat his book-bag down onto the ground and got out a notebook and a pen. He wrote some random lyrics and scratched them out, displeased with his own work.
He was never good with words, no matter how hard he tried, Patrick knew that he was never going to be a good lyricist. His words had no sense of poetry or flow; they were chaotic and clumsy, like a drunken tornado. Hell, even talking was a hard act for him to perform. When he was at school he was mostly silent; like a mouse making his way back to his hole, trying not to alert the cats in the house. When people approach Patrick; he stuttered and stammered. He looked at his Chuck Taylors and the tile on the floor. He forgot about even approaching the girls because who would want to go out with a band geek? He thought in musical notes, in bars and chords. His mind was a constant melody, notes changing pitch with emotion. Patrick had the belief that if people talked in musical notes; then he'd be in a lot better company. He looked at the lyrics he did write and began to wonder about the melody. He leaned back in the chair and began singing them out, planning them in different structures and little did he know he had caught someone's attention.
Pete Wentz had been sitting there, having an espresso before heading off to band practice. Today was his day off of work and he was going to spend it perfecting their songs before tonight's show. The only thing that was bothering him was the fact that their drummer had gone MIA. There was no word from the fill-in and they couldn't find anyone to fill-in for the fill-in. He took a sip of his coffee, irritated as hell, which was until he had heard that kid singing in the back. He looked over at him, lost in his own little world, singing his lyrics and Pete couldn't help but to smile at him. He had thought that the scene was absolutely adorable, not to mention that the kid was pretty cute too. He looked at him and he decided to head over there.
"Don't leave me hanging, hanging on busted chords and broken hearts," Patrick sung out, hating that lyric but he wrote a small bar into his notebook. He hadn't realized anyone was near him and he jumped about ten feet off the ground when he felt a hand lay on his shoulder. "OH MY GOD," he cried out and he saw this guy he hadn't known from Adam, standing there, with a soft smile on his face.
"Careful, dude, you might have a heart-attack," he said as he took a seat across from him. He looked over this kid, with black framed glasses and strawberry blonde hair. He couldn't help but to stare at him because he was way too cute. Were there scene kids this adorable in Chicago? Pete wasn't too sure of it but this kid made him feel butterflies at the pit of his stomach. He tried to swallow them down, because Pete was not in the mood to be a nerd.
"Sorry," Patrick said as he closed his notebook, hiding his notes. "I... I just didn't see you there."
"It's okay, I'm covert, I'm a ninja," Pete said with a laugh. "What's your name?"
"Patrick, but most probably just call me Pat," he said as he took a deep drink of his coffee; trying to calm his nerves. He took a good look at this boy-man sitting across from him. His skin was like cafe-au-lait and his eyes like chocolate. He had a mischievous smile and wore a battered hoodie. Patrick didn't understand what he was feeling at the moment but he felt a racing in his chest and knot in his stomach; like the way he did when he saw cute girls. He felt like such a dork but why was it that he wanted to sit here with him? Why was it that he didn't want to get up?
"Okay, Pat," he said and chuckled once more. "I heard you singing and I liked it. You got a nice voice."
"I'm not really a singer. I'm a drummer," Patrick explained.
Pete's eyes lit up and had wondered if that non-existent god had decided to bless him. Pete had needed a drummer tonight and he had wondered if this kid would be willing to fill in. He was going to bide his time and then shoot for it. "A drummer, awesome. Are you in a band or anything?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm in a band but it's not really any good or anything. I'm hoping to get into an actual good band when I get out of High School, you know?" Patrick explained.
"Well, why wait, dude? I mean, we need a drummer tonight, for our show at the club tonight and I was wondering: would you want to?" Pete asked, as if he was asking him what the weather was like.
Patrick sat there and contemplated it for a moment; a confused, perplexed puppy look came onto his face. Here was his chance; the chance to be in a band that wasn't one of the High School regulars. He could be in a band that probably plays more than just the all-ages club on open mic night. But at the same time; he was only seventeen and not control of his own destiny just yet. Since he had skipped school today, he was assured his mother was going to ground him for the next couple of weeks. Yes, sure, he was going to head home before his mother or father got there and delete any messages that the school might have left about his absence but he was assured he was grounded. But he looked at the guy across from him, the cute guy with an infectious smile. He was the cutest thing he had seen in a long time and he wanted to know him better than just this small conversation over coffee.
"I don't know if I can," Patrick said sheepishly, taking another drink of his coffee.
"Why?" Pete said. "I mean, I know our band is a little different than the usual..."
"What's your band's name and what do they play?"
"Arma Angelus. We're a hard-core, death-core kind of band. I do vocals, you know, death grunts and stuff."
"I've always kind of played regular punk rock."
"Well, the drumming isn't the difficult. If you'd come with me; I'm pretty sure that you could master the songs tonight, before we play at the House of Blues. So, what do you think?"
"To tell the truth; I kind of doubt I could."
"Why?"
"Well, I'm not sure my mom would like it..."
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen and that made Pete pause for a second. This kid was seventeen, which was just crazy. He had thought that he had to be at least twenty or twenty-one. He merely chuckled once more and Patrick felt a touch apprehensive. "What's so funny?" he asked.
"It's just that I thought you were older, that's all. You sure you can't do it?" he asked once more, reclining for a moment.
Patrick thought it over once more and he had come to his final conclusion. He was going to head to the practice with Pete. Yes, his parents might kill him. Yes, he might be sitting in his room until graduation but there was something compelling him to go. He felt like he was sitting on something big and he felt as if he let it go, then he was going to miss a great opportunity. He was going to do it and besides, this Pete guy was kind of cute.
"I'll do it," Patrick said calmly, finishing off his coffee.
"Cool dude, come on, I told Andy I'd meet him at ten," he said and Patrick went with him. Little did he know what he had gotten into.
__________________________________
Pete was half way home and he just smiled to himself. Yes, Patrick hadn't realized what he had gotten into. His life had changed on simple day. He practiced with Andy and him and then played the very last Arma Angelus show. They went on to form Fall Out Boy and they became lovers. The rest, as they say, was history and Pete wouldn't have changed anything for the world. He had his band and he had Patrick. What more did he need in life?
As he parked the car, he realized that yes; it was hard keeping Patrick a secret but it was the best secret he could keep.
The End
Summary : Pete has a hard time dealing with the fact that he has to keep his relationship with Patrick a secret. As he takes a drive home; he thinks about how they had first met. Pete/Patrick, with slight nod to Pete/Ashlee
Author : D.J./
sistersamaelRating : I'd say a light PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own Patrick or Pete. They are their own people and as well, none of this is real.
Author's Notes : This is my first real attempt at Pete/Patrick and RPS in general. So, I'd love some constructive criticism. Be honest but be gentle; I'm sensitive. :)
He Won't Find Out What I Know
Pete walked out of the K-ROQ studio in Los Angeles, his sunglasses on and his hood up, even thought it was a hundred degrees outside. The sunlight prickled against his skin and he headed to his car. On the morning show, Pete was their special guest. They asked questions about the upcoming fall tour, previews on the upcoming Panic! At The Disco album and the usual questions about his personal life. Sometimes, Pete wondered if he was indeed Ryan Ross, because he seemed to love a three-ringed circus. Pete loved the attention. He knew how to whore himself out. He knew how to get people talking about him and his band. But there was something that he wasn't privy to exposing.
"So are you and Ashlee dating?" the disc-jockey asked. His too white and too straight smile made Pete want to punch him.
"No, man. Ashlee and I are just really good friends. We just like to hang out and stuff," Pete said and took a sip of his bottled water, washing down bile and lies.
The whole world believed that Pete Wentz and Ashlee Simpson was a couple. They showed up together at award shows and fashion shows together. Ashlee was nothing more than arm-candy, a front. It was their manager Bob's brilliant idea. "No teenage girl wants to buy an album made by fags," he said. "Teenage girls like to think that they have a change." So, Pete became friends with Ashlee and she had become his version of a Louis Vuitton purse. Pete knew that there were sacrifices to be made in the music business but living the lie was the worst.
In all truth, Pete loved the chubby lead singer known as Patrick Stump. He loved him more than life itself. He was the one he woke up next to in the morning and the very last thing he saw before going to sleep at night. When the music died down, when the fame faded like an old photograph; Patrick was the one that he had wanted to grow old with. Pete sometimes wondered what it would be like if Fall Out Boy hadn't been eaten up by the music machine. What it would be like to be a pair of scene kids still stuck in some Chicago suburb, living for the moment and for the music. It was fantasies like that kept Pete going when things went wrong.
True, that was one benefit that came from a secret relationship. It was something that was completely and utterly his. It was something that the Buzznet, Oh No They Didn't or whatever crowd could not take and exploit. Yes, Pete had seen the speculations and the stories but none of those scene kids had ever come close to the truth. He liked that. He loved knowing those staged kisses on stage were real. He loved the secret cuddling and love making sessions in the back of the tour bus. He loved seeing the parts of Patrick that no one got to see. But sometimes, the secrecy got to be a bit much to swallow.
It got to be a choke-hold, a personal hell. It had felt like he had his mouth eternally covered with duct-tape and he could not pull it off. He smiled nicely for the paparazzi. He held Ashlee's hand and looked cute but he grew tired of the lie. He didn't love Ashlee at all, not at all. He did enjoy her company but he didn't think of her romantically or especially sexually. The one time that they tried to have sex, Pete spent most of it on his cell phone, talking to William Beckett. Ashlee merely rolled over and pretended that she was going to sleep. Pete was just thankful that Ashlee wasn't at his place every night. Patrick was, though, on the nights that Ashlee wasn't there. When Ashlee wasn't there, they lived life like a normal couple but taking baby steps so that no one would catch them with their pants down.
Pete had wondered if he made a press statement, saying that he was with Patrick, what would happen. How would the fans react? He knew he kept his mouth shut partly for reasons that were good for the band and partly selfish reasons. He knew that if such a statement was made, it would be the end of Fall Out Boy. They might still be around but they would not be on the level that they were today and he couldn't do that to Patrick, Andy and Joe. But then, he knew that the taunts and catcalls would be there. It would be going back to High School; hallways filled with the echoes of "faggot" and "cocksucker" and other words he didn't want to hear again. He couldn't hear them again. Closets were safer than being out in the open.
As Pete got into the car, one question had reverberated through his head: how did you meet Patrick? He gave the usual story, the we met in the Chicago scene and created Fall Out Boy together story. But he knew like everything else, it wasn't true. He turned onto Rodeo Drive and he had thought about the truth. He chuckled to himself and he was taken back to a rather balmy September morning.
________________________________________
September, 2001
Chicago, Illinois
Patrick Stump had been late again, bustling through the crowds, as fast as his feet could carry him. He would have asked his mother to drop him off at school but she had left before he had the chance to do so. His father already gone and that had meant that he had to head to school by foot. He knew he had to keep his grades up so he could graduate but he really didn't want to go to school today. For one, he was extremely tired and for another reason; he was still thinking about going to the club last night. It had been an all ages show at one of the best clubs in the Chicago scene. Patrick was filling in as drummer for one of the local High School bands and he had thought that he had done great. He felt amazed by it all and he wanted to relive that night over and over. But no, dawn came and he was needed at school. He tried running as fast as he could but he stopped. It was just too hot to run anywhere.
He looked at the pavement and he had decided that he wasn't going to make it to school today. Today, he was just going to blow it off and he really didn't care at the moment. He knew his parents were going to have his ass once more but the thought of just sitting in a classroom this morning was just too much to bear. He was in his senior year and he was just dying for the year to already be over. There was a bustling, interesting world beyond his High School and he had wanted to be a part of it. He wanted to be out there, making music, being with his friends, in control of his own life. He was going to be eighteen in a few months and graduate in June; why couldn't it be June now?
He walked into Liberty Coffee and Teas, a small coffeehouse in downtown Chicago. He had a few dollars in his pocket and he could get himself a cup of coffee and hang out. He wondered if any of his friends weren't in school today. After coffee, he could go and visit. He knew he couldn't go right back home; even though he would be alone. He ordered his coffee and took a seat at one of the small tables in the back. He looked over at the bookcase standing by the dessert case and he had wondered if the selection was good. He opted to tend to his own thoughts and he wanted to work on a new song anyways. He sat his book-bag down onto the ground and got out a notebook and a pen. He wrote some random lyrics and scratched them out, displeased with his own work.
He was never good with words, no matter how hard he tried, Patrick knew that he was never going to be a good lyricist. His words had no sense of poetry or flow; they were chaotic and clumsy, like a drunken tornado. Hell, even talking was a hard act for him to perform. When he was at school he was mostly silent; like a mouse making his way back to his hole, trying not to alert the cats in the house. When people approach Patrick; he stuttered and stammered. He looked at his Chuck Taylors and the tile on the floor. He forgot about even approaching the girls because who would want to go out with a band geek? He thought in musical notes, in bars and chords. His mind was a constant melody, notes changing pitch with emotion. Patrick had the belief that if people talked in musical notes; then he'd be in a lot better company. He looked at the lyrics he did write and began to wonder about the melody. He leaned back in the chair and began singing them out, planning them in different structures and little did he know he had caught someone's attention.
Pete Wentz had been sitting there, having an espresso before heading off to band practice. Today was his day off of work and he was going to spend it perfecting their songs before tonight's show. The only thing that was bothering him was the fact that their drummer had gone MIA. There was no word from the fill-in and they couldn't find anyone to fill-in for the fill-in. He took a sip of his coffee, irritated as hell, which was until he had heard that kid singing in the back. He looked over at him, lost in his own little world, singing his lyrics and Pete couldn't help but to smile at him. He had thought that the scene was absolutely adorable, not to mention that the kid was pretty cute too. He looked at him and he decided to head over there.
"Don't leave me hanging, hanging on busted chords and broken hearts," Patrick sung out, hating that lyric but he wrote a small bar into his notebook. He hadn't realized anyone was near him and he jumped about ten feet off the ground when he felt a hand lay on his shoulder. "OH MY GOD," he cried out and he saw this guy he hadn't known from Adam, standing there, with a soft smile on his face.
"Careful, dude, you might have a heart-attack," he said as he took a seat across from him. He looked over this kid, with black framed glasses and strawberry blonde hair. He couldn't help but to stare at him because he was way too cute. Were there scene kids this adorable in Chicago? Pete wasn't too sure of it but this kid made him feel butterflies at the pit of his stomach. He tried to swallow them down, because Pete was not in the mood to be a nerd.
"Sorry," Patrick said as he closed his notebook, hiding his notes. "I... I just didn't see you there."
"It's okay, I'm covert, I'm a ninja," Pete said with a laugh. "What's your name?"
"Patrick, but most probably just call me Pat," he said as he took a deep drink of his coffee; trying to calm his nerves. He took a good look at this boy-man sitting across from him. His skin was like cafe-au-lait and his eyes like chocolate. He had a mischievous smile and wore a battered hoodie. Patrick didn't understand what he was feeling at the moment but he felt a racing in his chest and knot in his stomach; like the way he did when he saw cute girls. He felt like such a dork but why was it that he wanted to sit here with him? Why was it that he didn't want to get up?
"Okay, Pat," he said and chuckled once more. "I heard you singing and I liked it. You got a nice voice."
"I'm not really a singer. I'm a drummer," Patrick explained.
Pete's eyes lit up and had wondered if that non-existent god had decided to bless him. Pete had needed a drummer tonight and he had wondered if this kid would be willing to fill in. He was going to bide his time and then shoot for it. "A drummer, awesome. Are you in a band or anything?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm in a band but it's not really any good or anything. I'm hoping to get into an actual good band when I get out of High School, you know?" Patrick explained.
"Well, why wait, dude? I mean, we need a drummer tonight, for our show at the club tonight and I was wondering: would you want to?" Pete asked, as if he was asking him what the weather was like.
Patrick sat there and contemplated it for a moment; a confused, perplexed puppy look came onto his face. Here was his chance; the chance to be in a band that wasn't one of the High School regulars. He could be in a band that probably plays more than just the all-ages club on open mic night. But at the same time; he was only seventeen and not control of his own destiny just yet. Since he had skipped school today, he was assured his mother was going to ground him for the next couple of weeks. Yes, sure, he was going to head home before his mother or father got there and delete any messages that the school might have left about his absence but he was assured he was grounded. But he looked at the guy across from him, the cute guy with an infectious smile. He was the cutest thing he had seen in a long time and he wanted to know him better than just this small conversation over coffee.
"I don't know if I can," Patrick said sheepishly, taking another drink of his coffee.
"Why?" Pete said. "I mean, I know our band is a little different than the usual..."
"What's your band's name and what do they play?"
"Arma Angelus. We're a hard-core, death-core kind of band. I do vocals, you know, death grunts and stuff."
"I've always kind of played regular punk rock."
"Well, the drumming isn't the difficult. If you'd come with me; I'm pretty sure that you could master the songs tonight, before we play at the House of Blues. So, what do you think?"
"To tell the truth; I kind of doubt I could."
"Why?"
"Well, I'm not sure my mom would like it..."
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen and that made Pete pause for a second. This kid was seventeen, which was just crazy. He had thought that he had to be at least twenty or twenty-one. He merely chuckled once more and Patrick felt a touch apprehensive. "What's so funny?" he asked.
"It's just that I thought you were older, that's all. You sure you can't do it?" he asked once more, reclining for a moment.
Patrick thought it over once more and he had come to his final conclusion. He was going to head to the practice with Pete. Yes, his parents might kill him. Yes, he might be sitting in his room until graduation but there was something compelling him to go. He felt like he was sitting on something big and he felt as if he let it go, then he was going to miss a great opportunity. He was going to do it and besides, this Pete guy was kind of cute.
"I'll do it," Patrick said calmly, finishing off his coffee.
"Cool dude, come on, I told Andy I'd meet him at ten," he said and Patrick went with him. Little did he know what he had gotten into.
__________________________________
Pete was half way home and he just smiled to himself. Yes, Patrick hadn't realized what he had gotten into. His life had changed on simple day. He practiced with Andy and him and then played the very last Arma Angelus show. They went on to form Fall Out Boy and they became lovers. The rest, as they say, was history and Pete wouldn't have changed anything for the world. He had his band and he had Patrick. What more did he need in life?
As he parked the car, he realized that yes; it was hard keeping Patrick a secret but it was the best secret he could keep.
The End