Legendary

“You were the star on TMZ today.”

I had barely picked up the phone before my mom was already talking, reminding me of what I already knew and did not want to be reminded of.

“They must’ve played the whole press conference at least three times. “

Balancing the phone in between my shoulder and ear, I went ahead and typed the URL into my laptop, and, sure enough, first thing on the page, right under the giant red banner:

Singer of Fall Out Boy Walks out on Press Conference

And right below that, a link to the video with exclusive typed right above it, as if you couldn’t find it on every single freaking website right now.

“Patrick, honey, you there?”

I shifted the phone to my other ear, “Yeah, I’m here, I was just…” I let my words trail off, too distracted reading the detailed text explaining everything, some shit I didn’t even know myself.

...Pete Wentz is later spotted outside on his Blackberry, making a desperate attempt to call Stump. “He’s a great guy, and probably what I’ll miss most about all this,” he says, before another failed effort of dialing Stump’s number…

“--you okay, sweetie? I know you loved your job very much, and I definitely would have heard about this before-“

“I’m fine, Mom,” I snapped at her, regretting it immediately after she became suddenly and shockingly quiet. “I’m alright, really, it was just a shock to me too, that’s all.”

She made a sound that might have been agreement, or maybe disapproval, whatever the hell Mom Sounds mean. “How ‘bout Rachel, how’s she doing?”

“She spends a lot of time at work,” I replied truthfully, because, hell, the house is fucking quiet when it’s just me and the Macbook. “I’ve told her she could use a vacation, but she’s too far obsessed with the fact she might miss something.”

“Workaholic, eh?” I nodded, ignoring the fact she couldn’t see me. “Maybe you two should come back home for awhile. We haven’t seen you in decades; it’d be nice to remember what my son looks like when he’s not the featured face for E! Entertainment.”

I snorted, “Or the one next to the featured face.”

“Honey, it was your ego I was protecting. I don’t need to be reminded which one of you I see more.”

---

Apparently, they only make flights from LAX to O’Hare that leave at ridiculous fuck o’clock in the morning.

The reason I know that is not the fact that the clock’s displaying a bright red, grueling 1:32, not the fact that the sun went down only hours ago, not the fact there isn’t one car on this deserted road, but instead because Rachel sure as hell isn’t going to let me forget that I just had –“I didn’t get a choice, it was this or two in the morning the next day” “You’re still an ass for waking me up at half past midnight” – to pick a plane that left at three in the morning.

And even though her feet were propped on the dashboard, it was her music we’re listening to, and she was half asleep, she was still griping.

“I should be asleep, right now, laying in my warm, soft bed; but, no, instead I’m in the middle of the San Diego Freeway in the most cramped car, ever.”

“Be happy we don’t have a Focus.”

She scoffed but, when I looked over, she was biting back a smile. I felt bad, no doubt, she only got a half hour of sleep, maybe, but if I had to listen to this the whole way there, you might as well put a gun to my head.

“Get some sleep, alright? I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

She went quiet for a moment and for a second there, I actually believed she had taken my advice.

Ha, right, “And how the hell do you expect me to be able to do that?” I let out a deep sigh and gave up, turning the dial on the radio until I was sure she wouldn’t go as far to yell over it.

And I think she got the hint when she rolled her eyes and let her head fall against the window, arms tucked in her jacket, eyes drifting shut. Out of courtesy, and a bit of guilt, I turned the stereo down a bit; still loud enough to get my point across, but definitely quiet enough so she could sleep.

When her breathing hallowed out and deepened, I fully switched off the dash, and decided to listen to her instead.

---

It was almost two by the time we reach the airport, and, in between pulling suitcases out of the trunk and gently trying to wake Rachel up, maybe this time on the Good Side of the car seat, I’ve calculated there’s no way we’ll able to make this flight on time. Between security and probably having Gate Triple Z, it’s going to take at least a couple hours just to get there.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late,” I whispered to her, kneeling down onto the ledge of the Civic so I was eyelevel with her. “Rachel, sweetie, come on.”

She stirred awake, stretching her arms out in front of her before looking me like she had no clue how the hell she got there.

“Plane takes off in an hour” is all I had to say and she muttered a definitely audible oh shit and yanked her seat back upright. I helped her out of the car, her hand in mine, even if she could get out just fine without me, probably the guilt from earlier sinking in. Again.

It’s when we step into the airport that I silently thanked god for the early flight. The lines were already starting to form at the check-in desk and, wallowing in the bench next to the door, some guy, clad in jeans and a jacket that hung to his knees, was sleeping, a video camera tucked under his arm with a bright TMZ sticker. I shook my head at him, but moved along a bit faster. It was still only a couple days since my face had been plastered on their screens; I was still ‘hot’ material.

Getting our bags check was easy, we were fifth in line for our particular airline, so it didn’t take long; security, though, would be another issue.

I’m pretty sure god thinks hell will freeze over the day that I can make it through the metal detector without being stopped. You’d think years of going through it, once, just once, something stupid on me wouldn’t set it off. Whether it be a zipper, a button, hell, once it was my Bluetooth earphone I had totally forgot about, but always something goes off.

I stepped off to the side on instinct after walking through the detector and all Rachel could do was stand off to the side and watch, pretending as if she wasn’t laughing. But it was obvious. As was the smirk the guard had as he waved his stupid wand across me, as if he was going to find a knife or gun or, dare I say, bomb.

Goddamn, he was smug about this. “So, you’re in that band that just broke up, eh?” I nodded, wishing he’d stop taking his sweet, non-valuable time and finish. “And you’re the one that skipped out during the announcement.” It wasn’t a question. I nodded anyway. “My daughter said that she expected that.” He was done and I attempted to walk off but was halted by his wand pushing into my chest. “She said that you’re the pussy of the group, anyway.” He tapped my shoulder, a small, dominant smile still across his face. “You’re clean. Have a nice flight, sir.”

I yanked my bag from the examination table, took Rachel’s hand, and walked off. “Wait, what’d he say? Was it rude? We should go talk to the manager, I think we should. Maybe-“

“Rachel,” I snapped, “just shut up for a moment, okay?” Guilt sunk in right away when she recoiled, her eyes widened, and she gently squeezed my hand, pleadingly almost. “Let’s get to our gate first, alright?” I placed a kiss on her forehead, pulling my hand from hers to rub her shoulder, and whispered an apology into her ear. She nodded against the crook of my neck and as much as I knew we should be at the gate like, right fucking now, I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

“Flight number eight-twenty-four to O’Hare International Airport,” came a voice over the speaker, “has been delayed for an approximate hour. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

I couldn’t see the smile on Rachel’s face, but could sure as hell feel it against my neck.

“What the hell kind of sign is that supposed to be?”

---

Landing in Chicago was a bittersweet thing.

No, scratch that, it’s all sweet. Every ounce of Midwest air, every drop of golden sunlight, every bit of glorious seventy-degree weather, everything just screams home. And, goddamn, that’s where I wanted to be.

Seeing my mom waiting for us as we exited the terminal wasn’t something that surprised me. What did surprise me was seeing Kevin and Megan waiting with her. I mean, sure, they’re my siblings but we hardly got to talk anymore. Between tours and recording and producing, calling your family just to chat isn’t exactly a high priority task.

“Tricky!”

Kevin’s a hyper guy. I swear, some days, he’s my own little personal Pete, minus the girl jeans and eyeliner. It almost amazes me the fact that we’re brothers, considering we’re so different.

On instinct, my hand flew to my hat, holding it to my head as he practically tackled me, sending us both stumbling back a few feet.

I pulled my arms from under his to give him a quick, awkward hug before pushing him away, as politely as possible. “Hey, Kevin; long time, no see. How’re the kids?”

He beamed, stepping back so I could hug Megan and Mom. “They’re good, but, hey, how’ve you been? It’s been years since I’ve seen your short ass other than in Rolling Stone.”

Resisting the urge to wipe away the kiss my mom had just placed on my forehead, I shrugged, deciding to pull my hat further down instead. “We’ve seen better days, y’know?” Speaking of, I reached behind, blindly searching and finding Rachel’s hand with my own, pulling her until she was with next to me.

“Oh man, I’m sorry.” Kevin pulled me into another hug, this one being a little more sincere, which he took no time at all to kill. “Still needing phonebooks to see over the steering wheel?”

---

I dropped our bags onto the bed, biting back a stray giggle at the familiarity of it all. The blue, chipped paint still coating the walls, the bed sheets still with Batman print on them, dating all the way back to my fourth birthday, and, possibly the best of all, every bit of Fall Out Boy stuff decorating the walls. From backstage passes to our first shows all the way to Take This to Your Grave vinyls. It all sorta killed and made my day at the same time. But just remembering every moment, ever memory, every feeling, I was smiling my ass off practically.

Rachel pushed the door open, shutting it behind her gently and walking over to where our stuff sat, purposely ignoring my odd facial expression, only paying me a fraction of a second of attention.

“You know, there is such a thing as hotels. Is there any specific reason we have to stay in your old bedroom?” She snorted and dug through her bag before her eyes caught sight of the bed.

There was a moment, I could tell, where she was processing it. Every movement had stopped and she was just staring. Before anything else, her eyes squeezed shut and she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, but her attempt failed in no time. And she was laughing so hard, she all but collapsed onto the bed.

“Batman sheets? Seriously?” She wiped away a tear that had formed in the corner of her eyes, and I huffed, crossing my arms.

“I got them for my birthday forever ago and I was damn proud. So, you, you can shut it.” I was determined to sound stern, but it only effected in another storm of laughs.

“Oh my god, you’re too adorable,” she giggled, placing a small kiss on my cheek. Intent on getting her to stop laughing, I threw another pout and stood up overdramatically, crossing the room over to the door and “slamming” it on the way out. Though, even with it shut, I could still hear her muffled laughs from the other side.

I shook my head and turned back around, almost screaming when my mom was right there. Instead, I put my hand on my chest, feeling my heart beating through the fabric.

She laughed, patting my shoulder as she shook her head. “Relax, dear, it’s okay. Oh, by the way, Chandler was going through the stuff that you’ve just thrown in our basement” – she accentuated this by rolling her eyes – “and he found some things you’ll actually probably want. I stuck them all in the closet in there. And if Rachel wants different sheets-“

“No, we’re fine with those.”

Her brows furrowed. “The Batman ones? Aren’t they sorta, you know-“

“Of course not.” I smiled, grabbing the door handle behind me. “She likes them, thinks they’re cute.”

She didn’t approve, her eyes searched mine, and her hand landed on her hip. “They’re so thin though. I don’t want you guys getting cold. Plus, god knows how old and dirty they are.”

I let my head roll back on my shoulders, leaning against the door. “Mom, we’re cool. Thanks but I think we’ll just stick with these.”

Her expression softened and she nodded slowly. “Alright. Well, if you want other ones, feel free to ask. Tell Rachel I said so too.”

Thanking her quickly, I placed a kiss on her cheek and, when the laughing had died down, I entered back into the room where Rachel had switched to pajamas and was pulling a book out from the bottom of the suitcase.

“It’s only eight and you’re already getting ready for bed?” I asked, pulling open the closet to take out whatever the hell my mom was talking about.

Rachel walked over, head cocked, she wrapped her arms around my neck and placed a small kiss on my lips. “I’m glad I got to meet the rest of your family. Today was fun.”

And it was. After getting our bags at the airport, we had gone out to eat with the rest of the Vaughn’s and, for hours, we had just talked, which was nice. Then we’d spent another god knows how long just in Chicago, shopping and going to visit a few friends. It was almost like a breath of fresh air, getting away from LA.

“Yes, it was. Thanks for agreeing to come.” I rested my forehead against hers and she sighed easily, closing her eyes and leaning more into me.

She smiled, though, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks for getting me away from work. They piss me off.” I giggled and she looked up at me, then over at the open closet, and back to me. “Whatcha doin’?”

“My mom said my step-dad put some old shit I’d probably want in there,” I shrugged, glancing over at it. “I figured I’d just see what she’s talking about.”

She let out an amused sound. “More Batman sheets? Or is it gonna be Power Rangers this time?”

“Good job,” I rolled my eyes and pulled away from her. “Way to ruin the moment.”

She threw her hands up innocently before deciding to go ahead and start digging through the closet. “It’s what I do best. Fuck, you have a lot of shit in here. No, wait, what’s this?”

I leaned in, instantly interested in what she had and I pretty much didn’t even try to hide the smile that had exploded on my face when she pulled out my Thriller vinyl, pretty much my all time favorite Michael Jackson album.

I took the record from her hands holding it to my chest. “Every night, she walks right in my dreams, since I met her from the start,” I sang, in between Rachel’s giggles, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I’m so proud, I am the only one who is special in her heart.”

I had discarded the record onto the dresser and was gently pushing Rachel back until we were on the bed. “The girl is mine, the doggone girl is mine,” I sang against her lips. She smiled and wrapped her arms around my chest, pulling me closer to her.

“I know she's mine because the doggone girl is mine,” I whispered, dipping in close to her ear. I kissed her neck softly as my hands disappeared underneath her shirt and felt along her warm skin. She drew my face back to hers for another kiss on the lips, and I lifted her shirt above her head as I sang, “I don't understand the way you think, saying that she's yours, not mine.”

I traced her curves and stared down at this perfect girl before me. How had I managed to end up with her again? I felt her lips curl up in a smile against mine as she toyed with the hem of my tee, tugging on it a little before she finally slipped it over my head. My lips hit hers once more until I pulled back to caress her cheek, murmuring, “Sending roses and your silly dreams, really just a waste of time.”

I stopped to kiss along her neck again, my fingers nonchalantly brushing across the clasp of her bra. I looked up at her through my lashes, trying to give her my best innocent face, and she nodded, encouraging me to continue. “Because she's mine, the doggone girl is mine.” Slow and gentle, I took the clasp in my hands and unhooked it, kissing her on the forehead as she shoved her fingers in my belt loops and tugged my hips down against hers.

I licked my lips, trying not to seem too eager as I ran my hands across her thighs. “Don't waste your time because the doggone girl is mine,” I breathed quietly, building up the nerve to pop open the button of her jeans. She sighed in satisfaction and brought my lips down to hers as I carefully slid her jeans down away from her waist. “I love you more than he, but I love you endlessly.”

Once her jeans hit the floor, my lips were attached to her neck, licking and biting softly. The soft whimpers escaping her mouth told me that I must’ve been doing something right. “So come and go with me to one town,” I crooned, my fingers exploring her whole body. I took another look at her, so grateful that she was with me. Just seeing her like this, willing and ready… “But we both cannot have her, so it's one or the other.”

I moved a bit faster now as I got off the bed and quickly shimmied out of my own pants. I wanted her – no, I needed her, and I needed her now. My life had been absolutely shitty for the past couple weeks or so, and I needed at least one thing to go right for me. She gazed at me through lustful eyes as I lied back down on the bed and planted a kiss on her lips. “And one day you'll discover…” I whispered, closing the gap between us.

For a moment, we just stayed like that, but I was speechless as I stared into her eyes, my throat going dry. I pressed a soft kiss to her temple and brushed a few stray hairs out of her eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” I said quietly.

She blushed, smiling at me. I leaned in close to her, drawing our bare chests together as I kissed her, long and hard and passionate. We pulled away and I bit my lip, giving her a crooked smile. “So…uh…are we…going to…do the ‘it it’?” I asked, somewhat nervous, though I’m not sure why; it’s not like this was our first time.

“…On your Batman sheets?” she snorted in amusement and, I admit, the idea of changing the sheets quickly crossed my mind, but I paid no attention to it. Instead, I placed another kiss on her lips, nodding slowly so she understood but made sure not to let anything come in between us.

She laced her fingers into my hair, pulling me in even closer, if at all possible, and I reached down, my fingers lightly brushing over the waistband of her underwear, once again, glancing up to catch her eyes; pupils blown and lips parted. Another nod and I continued. “That she’s my girl,” I smiled against her skin, placing one last kiss on it before carrying on. “Forever and ever.”

---

I blindly searched for my jeans, finding them still in a puddle on the floor, and pulled them on, reaching over to pull open the blinds. Sunlight flooded in and I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake myself up a little, which was failing. Hard.

I perked up, though, when I could hear everyone downstairs, and I mean, everyone. I was pretty sure I could pick out Kevin’s voice, my mom’s too, and Rachel’s and Chandler’s, Megan’s even, and I was instantly curious, scurrying to finish getting ready and heading down the steps.

In the living room, as I suspected, everyone was gathered, eyes practically glued to the TV they didn’t even notice me in the room. I was about to speak up when I glanced up at the screen and instantly regretted coming down here.

“D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-duh, Batman!” the four-year-old mini-me sang, clad in nothing but Batman sheets tied around my neck as a cape and an oversized Chicago Cubs hat, supplied by my dad. I jumped around, off the couch, onto the coffee table; practically prancing around the whole room.

My mom was chasing the little, naked Patrick around on the screen, asking him to ‘put some clothes on and get ready for bed,’ but, instead, he just took to another leap off the armchair, landing somewhere off-screen and running off. It was when the screen switched to the black that I realized Kevin, with smug-ass smile on his face, was just staring at me.

“Aren’t home videos the best, Tricky?” he asked and it didn’t even take everyone in the room laughing for me to blush. I glanced over at my mom, giving her my best puppy eyes so she could possibly step in and save me. The plan quickly failed when she shrugged and just continued to laugh.

Rachel, thank god, stood up, still stifling laughs, and walked behind him, wrapping her arms around my waist. “You were a sexy little toddler,” she whispered against the back of my neck, giggles still stuttering out against my skin.

I threw on my best pout, crossing my arms and pushing out my bottom lip, and turned slightly, making sure Rachel could see it, but she just laughed some more, as did everyone else in the room and I didn’t need a mirror to know I blushed even harder, wishing I had a way to get out of this.

“You should try that look more often,” shot Megan from across the room. “Apparently someone likes it.”

Kevin waggled his eyebrows at me and I glanced back at my mom, who had switched the TV off and sighed, standing up off the couch. “Okay guys, it was cute, now let’s move on.” Kevin opened his mouth to say something but my mom tapped his knee and gave him The Look, so he immediately closed and looked back at me, eyebrow cocked.

My mom smiled and moved on, turning back to Rachel and me. “I’m doing a load of laundry, anything you need washed?” We both shook our heads before a very intruding Kevin stepped in, fucking again.

“I’m thinking the Batman sheets could use a good wash,” before I could even comprehend what he was implying, he continued. “Did they survive last night, our little buckaroo?”

Oh dear god, was all I could make out of Rachel’s mumbling behind me, her arms clenching tighter around me.

Other than that, the room went silent, amused faces growing on Megan, my step-dad, and Kevin. I didn’t even have the heart to look at my mom. If they all heard, there’s no doubt she would’ve too.

Rachel buried her face into my shirt, still murmuring something I couldn’t decipher, and I could just tell Kevin was on the verge of cracking up, and… I was… hell, I was dying.

For the second time that day, my mom came through, well, at least she tried. “Do you want to wash them, Patrick?”

I licked my lips, searching for the right words to say but quickly failed and threw a shrug instead. “No, it’s fine-“

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, shutting me up instantly. “You want to sleep on those now?”

Kevin was clenching his stomach, curled up in the fetal position, just laughing; laughing harder than I could’ve ever imagined, my step-dad poking him, telling him something about how I’m already embarrassed enough.

“Alright,” I sighed, “I’ll go get them.”