[fic] Conundrum | Fall Out Boy | Pete/Patrick
Title: Conundrum
Fandom: [Bandom]Fall Out Boy
Characters/Pairing: Pete/Patrick (established)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 600
Disclaimer: Owning real people is illegal nowadays, so I can’t say these boys are mine…
A/N: So, my first actual Bandom fic. The idea actually sprouted when I was watching a spelling bee and talking on the phone with faerie_lullaby, laughing because I knew how to spell the hard words the kids didn’t. Suddenly she’s like: You should so write a fic where Pete and Patrick have a spelling contest.
This resulted. (And don’t ask about the title, because it was all I could think of *sigh*)
“Trick…” Pete whined, standing at the top of the stairs that lead to Patrick’s basement.
Patrick did his best to ignore him, knowing he was only whining because he was ‘bored’. He turned up the volume on his TV as Pete called again.
By the third time, Patrick was getting slightly annoyed.
“If you’re so bored Pete, go back to bed. Or better yet, come take your dog for a walk.”
Hemingway glanced up at Patrick, never taking his head of his lap, with a slight whine.
“What, you too now?” Patrick asked, looking down at the dog. “Go, Pete will take you for a walk.”
At the word, Hemmy’s head lifted, his ears perked. Patrick grinned.
“Yeah, go get Pete…” he insisted, pointing to the stairs. Hemingway barked loudly and took off. Not two seconds later Patrick could hear Pete yelp and try and scramble away from his dog. From that sprung a loud commotion, Pete yelling and Hemingway barking.
Patrick was just beginning to wonder why he let Pete bring his dog along when he came to spend the night when there was a door slamming and Pete’s heavy footsteps on the stairs.
“You ass! Sending my own dog after me to kill me!” Pete yelled, stopping halfway on the staircase and staring Patrick down.
“I just told him you’d take him for a walk…”
“Do you KNOW what walking Hemmy is like? It’s like being stuck in a tornado that only wants to run into traffic!”
“Not my problem. He’s your dog.”
“You ass,” Pete opted to say again, unable to come up with anything better. He came the rest of the way downstairs. Distantly they could hear Hemingway barking, most likely at nothing, as he ran around the back yard.
Pete flopped himself onto the couch next to Patrick, sitting still for a few seconds before slouching over and resting his head on Patrick’s arm.
“What are you watching?”
“A spelling bee.”
“Um…why?” Pete asked.
“’Cause.” Was Patrick’s reply. He glanced down at Pete who was staring at him funny. “What?”
“You’re weird.”
“Mm-hmmm,” came Patrick’s non-committal response. He looked back at the TV and moved his arm so it was wrapped around Pete’s shoulder’s, running his fingers through his hair.
“Man,” Pete said after a long silence, “I can spell better than these kids.”
“Pete, they’re in elementary school. And I’m pretty sure they can spell better than you.”
“Nu-uh!”
“Dude, I’ve read your rough draft lyrics. By the way, it’s spelt C-O-N-U-N-D-R-U-M. There’s no e, and it’s not a k.”
“Shut up.” Pete sighed with a roll of his eyes. “I can spell, I was just tired. I knew it was spelt like that.”
“Alright, spell hallelujah.”
“H-A-L…” he paused, “Uh..L-A-L-U-Y-A.”
“You fail.”
“What, no! That’s how you spell it!”
“No, that’s how you say it. H-A-L-L-E-L-U-J-A-H.”
“J? J?! What are we, Mexican?”
“In Spanish the j is pronounced as an h, like in Julio. In hallelujah it’s silent.”
“Shut up.” Pete growled, “Where’s a dictionary?”
“What, are you going to challenge me to some sort of spell off now?”
“Yes.”
Patrick rolled his eyes, “I don’t have a dictionary.”
“Why not?”
“Because I know how to spell.”
“Shut up.” Pete repeated for the third time, his vocabulary decreasing, “You probably just use your stupid Spell-Check or whatever.”
“Or, you know, I’m smart. And if you say shut up one more time I’ll throw you in the yard with that dog of yours.”
Pete frowned and crossed his arms and snuggled closer to Patrick.
“At least I can spell supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” he mumbled.
Patrick laughed.
Fin.
Fandom: [Bandom]Fall Out Boy
Characters/Pairing: Pete/Patrick (established)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 600
Disclaimer: Owning real people is illegal nowadays, so I can’t say these boys are mine…
A/N: So, my first actual Bandom fic. The idea actually sprouted when I was watching a spelling bee and talking on the phone with faerie_lullaby, laughing because I knew how to spell the hard words the kids didn’t. Suddenly she’s like: You should so write a fic where Pete and Patrick have a spelling contest.
This resulted. (And don’t ask about the title, because it was all I could think of *sigh*)
“Trick…” Pete whined, standing at the top of the stairs that lead to Patrick’s basement.
Patrick did his best to ignore him, knowing he was only whining because he was ‘bored’. He turned up the volume on his TV as Pete called again.
By the third time, Patrick was getting slightly annoyed.
“If you’re so bored Pete, go back to bed. Or better yet, come take your dog for a walk.”
Hemingway glanced up at Patrick, never taking his head of his lap, with a slight whine.
“What, you too now?” Patrick asked, looking down at the dog. “Go, Pete will take you for a walk.”
At the word, Hemmy’s head lifted, his ears perked. Patrick grinned.
“Yeah, go get Pete…” he insisted, pointing to the stairs. Hemingway barked loudly and took off. Not two seconds later Patrick could hear Pete yelp and try and scramble away from his dog. From that sprung a loud commotion, Pete yelling and Hemingway barking.
Patrick was just beginning to wonder why he let Pete bring his dog along when he came to spend the night when there was a door slamming and Pete’s heavy footsteps on the stairs.
“You ass! Sending my own dog after me to kill me!” Pete yelled, stopping halfway on the staircase and staring Patrick down.
“I just told him you’d take him for a walk…”
“Do you KNOW what walking Hemmy is like? It’s like being stuck in a tornado that only wants to run into traffic!”
“Not my problem. He’s your dog.”
“You ass,” Pete opted to say again, unable to come up with anything better. He came the rest of the way downstairs. Distantly they could hear Hemingway barking, most likely at nothing, as he ran around the back yard.
Pete flopped himself onto the couch next to Patrick, sitting still for a few seconds before slouching over and resting his head on Patrick’s arm.
“What are you watching?”
“A spelling bee.”
“Um…why?” Pete asked.
“’Cause.” Was Patrick’s reply. He glanced down at Pete who was staring at him funny. “What?”
“You’re weird.”
“Mm-hmmm,” came Patrick’s non-committal response. He looked back at the TV and moved his arm so it was wrapped around Pete’s shoulder’s, running his fingers through his hair.
“Man,” Pete said after a long silence, “I can spell better than these kids.”
“Pete, they’re in elementary school. And I’m pretty sure they can spell better than you.”
“Nu-uh!”
“Dude, I’ve read your rough draft lyrics. By the way, it’s spelt C-O-N-U-N-D-R-U-M. There’s no e, and it’s not a k.”
“Shut up.” Pete sighed with a roll of his eyes. “I can spell, I was just tired. I knew it was spelt like that.”
“Alright, spell hallelujah.”
“H-A-L…” he paused, “Uh..L-A-L-U-Y-A.”
“You fail.”
“What, no! That’s how you spell it!”
“No, that’s how you say it. H-A-L-L-E-L-U-J-A-H.”
“J? J?! What are we, Mexican?”
“In Spanish the j is pronounced as an h, like in Julio. In hallelujah it’s silent.”
“Shut up.” Pete growled, “Where’s a dictionary?”
“What, are you going to challenge me to some sort of spell off now?”
“Yes.”
Patrick rolled his eyes, “I don’t have a dictionary.”
“Why not?”
“Because I know how to spell.”
“Shut up.” Pete repeated for the third time, his vocabulary decreasing, “You probably just use your stupid Spell-Check or whatever.”
“Or, you know, I’m smart. And if you say shut up one more time I’ll throw you in the yard with that dog of yours.”
Pete frowned and crossed his arms and snuggled closer to Patrick.
“At least I can spell supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” he mumbled.
Patrick laughed.
Fin.