Destructive is the Way We Want to Be
Title: Destructive is the Way We Want to Be
Pairing: Ashlee/Pete, Ashlee/Patrick
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Infidelity, Implied…fun.
Author: xmexandxyoux (me!)
Credit: I stole the WhamBam from CSI:NY (Wentzlee episode). Title from Empires.
Disclaimer: As much as I am pro-Stumplee, this never happened. (Duh).
Summary: He kissed her back, because here was a beautiful sobbing woman, and he had no idea how to make her feel better. But Ashlee did.
With a coy smile, she led him to the car. Feeling helpless, he allowed himself to be led.
LaineMchenry: @patrickvaughnstump: @jaelmurphy wants me to tell you that you two are kaput.
Patrick’s cursor hovered over the block this user button before clicking it defiantly. Humanity had reached a new low- dumped by a messenger. Through Twitter. In under 140 characters. Another relationship down the crapper. He wasn’t really surprised, considering he’d been dumped- and dumped on- a lot lately. He clicked the cursor once more, blocking Jael from his life- or at least his Twitter- and leaned back, satisfied with himself.
---
Ashlee tapped her fingers on the table; she was bored. Not bored of her life, just the monotony. She was tired of how routine it all was. Ashlee was tired of waking up and being a mother, 24-7, never having Ashlee-Time, not being able to spend the time she would like to with her husband. She loved Bronx, she loved Pete, but she just wanted more.
She wanted excitement. She wanted a secret. She wanted something only to herself. She wanted a paramour.
---
Patrick checked the Caller ID on his iPhone sleepily. He was wary: it read Ashlee. It had to be Pete. It would be strange for Ashlee to be calling him altogether, let alone hours before dawn, because he just plain didn’t know her that well. They’d gone through the motions of polite small talk at parties and had mutual friends, but not anything by themselves.
“Hello?” Patrick answered, his voice a drain clogged with sleep.
“Hi.” Surely enough, it was Mrs. Simpson-Wentz herself. “It’s Ashlee.” Ashlee said, as if Patrick hadn’t realized it by now and hadn’t been going through the file in his head marked “Reasons Why Ashlee Would Be Calling Me at 3 AM”. Except for the fact that it was empty because he hadn’t been able to think of any reasons, meaning it was pretty damn illogical. “I really need to talk to you.” That sent Patrick’s previously sleep-ridden dormant heart into complete overdrive. What the fuck was going on?
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is Pete okay? Oh, shit, it’s Bronx, isn’t it?” Patrick’s mind went into Worst Case Scenario Handbook mode, and he sat up in bed.
“No, no, no, we’re all fine. I just really need to talk to someo-you. Can you meet me at the diner on Broadway ASAP?”
“Uhm, okay.” Patrick answered uncertainly. Patrick wasn’t the type to let people down. So he agreed and showed up “as soon as possible”.
---
“I just- don’t feel love in the relationship.” Ashlee explained, letting the artificial tears slip down her face and pool into the saucer from her coffee. Patrick sipped his coffee, unsure of what to make of this whole scenario. Ashlee put her head in her hands and before she knew it, Patrick was next to her with his arms across her shoulders, trying to get her to stop crying. The plan was going swiftly. At this rate, he’d be putty in her hands before one could utter, “This is like Desperate Housewives”. And Ashlee played her role best as she could, trying to make it sincere without being melodramatic, which was no easy feat.
Perfect.
It was not entirely unexpected when she turned her head towards him and kissed him full on the mouth; for Patrick was still under the impression she had an unhappy marriage and was hurting. So naturally, she would turn to him for that support, he justified. He kissed her back, because here was a beautiful sobbing woman, and he had no idea how to make her feel better. But Ashlee did.
With a coy smile, she led him to the car. Feeling helpless, he allowed himself to be led.
---
Where the fuck was Ashlee? Her phone was dead, and she’d mysteriously disappeared. There had to be a logical reason. When Ashlee showed up seven minutes after Pete had considered filing a missing persons report, it was with an apologetic smile, and of course, an excuse.
“Sorry. Jess had a little . . . emergency.” The way she said emergency made it clear that it was none of Pete’s business, so he didn’t ask. And the less he asked, the less he knew. The less he knew, the better off he was- it was a benefit to both him and Ashlee. If he hadn’t been so relieved, he might have noticed that Ashlee’s top was on inside out and her shoes on the wrong feet.
But he didn’t.
---
Patrick lay in the backseat of the Civic, fumbling for his hat and wondering what on earth he had just done and when he could do it again.
---
Ashlee: Pete’s out with bx come over I need you
---
“Did you ever think that this might be wrong?” Patrick asked the morning of the fourth such illicit rendezvous.
“Often. But it‘s too good to stop.“ She replied before climbing into his lap.
---
Ashlee: Meet me at the Whambam, room 717 same time as usual
---
“When did you take up smoking?” Ashlee asked Pete, stepping outside to join him.
“About the same time you started having an affair.” Pete said, deadpan.
“How did you . . . know?” Pete’s admission sucked all of the breath out of Ashlee.
“Patrick.” Ashlee raised an eyebrow. Patrick was not one to give up secrets. Especially big-divorce-heartbreak-scandalous ones. “He had that I’m-doing-your-wife look in his eyes. I’d recognize it anywhere.”
“You’ve been married before?”
“No. He had guilt written all over his face.” Pete shook his head, disappointed and disgusted. She hadn’t even tried to deny it.
“Are you angry with him?” Ashlee tactfully avoided the subject of whether he was angry with her- and besides, she didn’t give a shit.
“I know it wasn’t his idea.” As much as Ashlee didn’t care anymore what Pete did/heard/said/thought of her, this hurt a vulnerable spot in her heart that had never been touched. ”Just don’t hurt him.”
---
“Hey.” Patrick had gotten accustomed to the late-night phone calls but he hadn’t been expecting this.
“Patrick,” Ashlee’s voice cracked as she spoke. “I- It’s over.”