[fic] Fire In The Storm 1/?
Title: Fire In The Storm 1/?
Author: Erin
roadtriphome
Fandom: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Silent Hill (game)
Rating: Lets go for a PG-13 for starters and we'll see where I go from there.
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Summary: After a tour, the band is returning home for the winter holidays. On the way there they have to make a stop in Silent Hill, Maine because the snow is getting too bad for either the tour buses or the van. They hope to just stay for the night, but with a storm hitting the area, the guys get trapped in the little tourist town for the next few days.
Disclaimer: This is totally fake. This is fiction!FallOutBoy. I also don't own the awesomeness that is Silent Hill either (that would be Konomi). This was not written to earn money or to speak slander.
Note: I have never written FOB, so I'm trying to get them down as best I can. So bear with me if I'm getting something wrong. This is sorta what this whole thing is about, me trying my hand at writing about guys (that aren't Murdoc from Gorillaz) and attempting m/m slash fic (I haven't written it in about four or five years).
"Alone in the dark, the snow will cover my footsteps." – Ginger Snaps
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
- Robert Frost’s “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening”
Prologue
In between midnight and the early hours of Sunday morning, the sight of a motel was the only thing Patrick could really register in his groggy haze. He knew the parking lot was too empty and that the warm spot that was his bed in the bus was much better than the December snow they were stumbling through. He just couldn’t figure out where they were and why they couldn’t keep heading home like planned.
“It figures this would happen on the way home.” Patrick heard Andy say, his voice muffled to his ears. He had bundled up so much he wondered if he was actually wearing his bunk blanket instead of carrying his overnight bag.
Someone tugged his coat sleeve gently, pulling him away from a seemingly normal pile of snow before they reached the front door of the motel. Pete’s voice was louder and his body was closer than he remembered it being. He appreciated the extra warmth and the shelter from the cold wind coming off the town’s surrounding lake. “You okay?”
“No, I’m tired.” He replied, quickly scooting into the motel’s front door. The bright lobby lights made him squint enough that he might as well have kept them closed. They were still used to the dull lights of the tour bus and the shadow of his skullcap.
Somehow, in his need to stand but his want to sit, Patrick found a couch close to the lobby desk. Joe joined him not too long after Pete and Andy started talking to the manager. At least, he heard Pete and Andy-like voices, but he was starting to drift off again.
“…storm’s coming in. I might have to put you up with a two bed'er. We might need more rooms than usual, if the roads get worse. You lucked out on this place being pretty dead during winter, but we still get a lot of truckers. You mind?” The manager sounded friendly, sincere even. Patrick could tell though, that he was a little nervous. Sometimes it was normal, they made a lot of people nervous. Tonight though, he wagered it was probably the snow.
“Nah, that’s alright. We’re use to it.” Pete’s voice sounded too awake. Patrick wondered if he had even tried to get to sleep before they hit the sketchy roads.
The nervous tone in the manager’s voice was stronger now. “Good, good. You can have room 107, its at the very end, you can’t miss it. It actually has a good view of the lake. The truckers don’t usual care about that sort of stuff, but I figure if you guys actually have to stay here another day, what the hell.” Papers shuffled and Patrick couldn’t help looking over to see what was going on. “Um… uh. I have to warn you about a few things though, nothing major.” He handed Andy a brochure, his hands expressing more than he was letting on. “If you hear the air raid siren tomorrow, it’s just our fog warning system. It gets really bad around here, really thick stuff, so just stay in until it burns off. It usually lasts a couple of hours, but our local TV station plays a lot of great shows during that time. It’s worth it just to stay in and relax. It’s not safe during the fog time. We get a lot of wild dogs that come in and we’ve had people get into weird accidents because of it. It’s also going to get a bit colder, what with the storm, so we may have ice fog and whatever else coming off the water.”
“Yeah, we get it. We get this sort of thing in Chicago…” Andy started, already disinterested and looking around the room in between glances at the brochure.
Joe’s body hummed beside Patrick, his voice scratchy. “Where’s the nearest place to eat?”
The manager seemed to have forgotten there were two other people in the room. “Oh, uh, well, we have a lot of places around here, but just down the street, on the corner of Katz Street, there’s Big Jay’s. They open at four and serve anything.” He smiled, still genuinely nice despite his nerves. “Even though I’d hate for you guys to get snowed in, I really do hope you take a chance to see the place. We’re more of a summer tourist spot, but you’d be surprised how great it is during the winter holidays.”
From the couch, Patrick saw the side of Pete’s face clearly enough that he knew his band mate was actually considering it. If he weren’t so tired and ready for a weeks worth of sleeping in and hopping around between Chanukah and Christmas – he would have tried to stop his best friend’s train of thought. He was tired though, overwhelmingly so, and the sight of the motel key changing hands with Andy brought him more joy than the prospects of going home.
“Well, night guys. If the snow’s too thick tomorrow and you stay, stop by here again and Jack’ll give you a map of the place. Just tell him you met his son Kevin.” The manger’s son yawned, stretching as he disappeared through a doorway, a TV turning on.
Joe stood back up, pulling Patrick with him, as they started for outside again. The trek to the motel room was cold and eerie. The short time in the warm and welcoming lobby had warped the outside world just enough that they risked slipping and sliding over the concrete porch to get to their room faster. Andy didn’t even fumble with the key; they were out of the snow and biting cold before they could even catch a glimpse of the lake view through the trees.
The room was warm and it smelled like someone had aired it out recently, the smell of pine and firewood still lingering in the air. This almost instantly caused him to crawl into the bed closest to the bathroom, but he set his things down, being careful of his laptop bag, before he took off everything that wasn’t a shirt and boxers. Joe had already taken the bed closest to the heater, his coat still on, along with his shoes. Andy could be heard chastising his friend good-naturedly, shoes, coats and bags finding their way to the room’s empty chairs and table before he too laid down and shut off their side’s lamp.
By the time Pete join Patrick in the other bed, he was almost unaware of anything. Not even the little shift of weight on the mattress brought him fully back to consciousness. The muttered goodnight in his ear pulled him deeper into sleep as the room grew quiet.
The echoes of the day that had been roaring in Patrick’s head muffled and died. The world faded out. Sleep set in.
Author: Erin
roadtriphomeFandom: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Silent Hill (game)
Rating: Lets go for a PG-13 for starters and we'll see where I go from there.
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Summary: After a tour, the band is returning home for the winter holidays. On the way there they have to make a stop in Silent Hill, Maine because the snow is getting too bad for either the tour buses or the van. They hope to just stay for the night, but with a storm hitting the area, the guys get trapped in the little tourist town for the next few days.
Disclaimer: This is totally fake. This is fiction!FallOutBoy. I also don't own the awesomeness that is Silent Hill either (that would be Konomi). This was not written to earn money or to speak slander.
Note: I have never written FOB, so I'm trying to get them down as best I can. So bear with me if I'm getting something wrong. This is sorta what this whole thing is about, me trying my hand at writing about guys (that aren't Murdoc from Gorillaz) and attempting m/m slash fic (I haven't written it in about four or five years).
"Alone in the dark, the snow will cover my footsteps." – Ginger Snaps
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
- Robert Frost’s “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening”
Prologue
In between midnight and the early hours of Sunday morning, the sight of a motel was the only thing Patrick could really register in his groggy haze. He knew the parking lot was too empty and that the warm spot that was his bed in the bus was much better than the December snow they were stumbling through. He just couldn’t figure out where they were and why they couldn’t keep heading home like planned.
“It figures this would happen on the way home.” Patrick heard Andy say, his voice muffled to his ears. He had bundled up so much he wondered if he was actually wearing his bunk blanket instead of carrying his overnight bag.
Someone tugged his coat sleeve gently, pulling him away from a seemingly normal pile of snow before they reached the front door of the motel. Pete’s voice was louder and his body was closer than he remembered it being. He appreciated the extra warmth and the shelter from the cold wind coming off the town’s surrounding lake. “You okay?”
“No, I’m tired.” He replied, quickly scooting into the motel’s front door. The bright lobby lights made him squint enough that he might as well have kept them closed. They were still used to the dull lights of the tour bus and the shadow of his skullcap.
Somehow, in his need to stand but his want to sit, Patrick found a couch close to the lobby desk. Joe joined him not too long after Pete and Andy started talking to the manager. At least, he heard Pete and Andy-like voices, but he was starting to drift off again.
“…storm’s coming in. I might have to put you up with a two bed'er. We might need more rooms than usual, if the roads get worse. You lucked out on this place being pretty dead during winter, but we still get a lot of truckers. You mind?” The manager sounded friendly, sincere even. Patrick could tell though, that he was a little nervous. Sometimes it was normal, they made a lot of people nervous. Tonight though, he wagered it was probably the snow.
“Nah, that’s alright. We’re use to it.” Pete’s voice sounded too awake. Patrick wondered if he had even tried to get to sleep before they hit the sketchy roads.
The nervous tone in the manager’s voice was stronger now. “Good, good. You can have room 107, its at the very end, you can’t miss it. It actually has a good view of the lake. The truckers don’t usual care about that sort of stuff, but I figure if you guys actually have to stay here another day, what the hell.” Papers shuffled and Patrick couldn’t help looking over to see what was going on. “Um… uh. I have to warn you about a few things though, nothing major.” He handed Andy a brochure, his hands expressing more than he was letting on. “If you hear the air raid siren tomorrow, it’s just our fog warning system. It gets really bad around here, really thick stuff, so just stay in until it burns off. It usually lasts a couple of hours, but our local TV station plays a lot of great shows during that time. It’s worth it just to stay in and relax. It’s not safe during the fog time. We get a lot of wild dogs that come in and we’ve had people get into weird accidents because of it. It’s also going to get a bit colder, what with the storm, so we may have ice fog and whatever else coming off the water.”
“Yeah, we get it. We get this sort of thing in Chicago…” Andy started, already disinterested and looking around the room in between glances at the brochure.
Joe’s body hummed beside Patrick, his voice scratchy. “Where’s the nearest place to eat?”
The manager seemed to have forgotten there were two other people in the room. “Oh, uh, well, we have a lot of places around here, but just down the street, on the corner of Katz Street, there’s Big Jay’s. They open at four and serve anything.” He smiled, still genuinely nice despite his nerves. “Even though I’d hate for you guys to get snowed in, I really do hope you take a chance to see the place. We’re more of a summer tourist spot, but you’d be surprised how great it is during the winter holidays.”
From the couch, Patrick saw the side of Pete’s face clearly enough that he knew his band mate was actually considering it. If he weren’t so tired and ready for a weeks worth of sleeping in and hopping around between Chanukah and Christmas – he would have tried to stop his best friend’s train of thought. He was tired though, overwhelmingly so, and the sight of the motel key changing hands with Andy brought him more joy than the prospects of going home.
“Well, night guys. If the snow’s too thick tomorrow and you stay, stop by here again and Jack’ll give you a map of the place. Just tell him you met his son Kevin.” The manger’s son yawned, stretching as he disappeared through a doorway, a TV turning on.
Joe stood back up, pulling Patrick with him, as they started for outside again. The trek to the motel room was cold and eerie. The short time in the warm and welcoming lobby had warped the outside world just enough that they risked slipping and sliding over the concrete porch to get to their room faster. Andy didn’t even fumble with the key; they were out of the snow and biting cold before they could even catch a glimpse of the lake view through the trees.
The room was warm and it smelled like someone had aired it out recently, the smell of pine and firewood still lingering in the air. This almost instantly caused him to crawl into the bed closest to the bathroom, but he set his things down, being careful of his laptop bag, before he took off everything that wasn’t a shirt and boxers. Joe had already taken the bed closest to the heater, his coat still on, along with his shoes. Andy could be heard chastising his friend good-naturedly, shoes, coats and bags finding their way to the room’s empty chairs and table before he too laid down and shut off their side’s lamp.
By the time Pete join Patrick in the other bed, he was almost unaware of anything. Not even the little shift of weight on the mattress brought him fully back to consciousness. The muttered goodnight in his ear pulled him deeper into sleep as the room grew quiet.
The echoes of the day that had been roaring in Patrick’s head muffled and died. The world faded out. Sleep set in.