I’m Not Complainin’ That It’s Rainin’ (I’m Just Saying That I Like It a Lot)

An insomniac with ESP, a cursed vegan with super-strength, a psychic pothead, and some guy in argyle got locked out of a van in the rain. It sounds like the beginning of a long, stupid joke, but it actually happened to Fall Out Boy on their first tour, which makes it a long, funny joke.

“This kind of sucks,” Andy said, kicking a pebble. It clacked against the pavement for a while and splashed into a puddle.

“That’s putting it mildly.” Patrick shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. “So…really no idea where we left the keys, huh, Joe?”

Joe screwed up his face for a moment. “Nope. They’re probably somewhere so mind-numbingly stupid that not even omniscience can track them down.” He glared at Pete, who grinned like the sun shone out his ass.

“On the bright side, that’s the longest sentence we’ve gotten out of you in maybe forever,” he pointed out. “I think my stupidity is helping you grow as a person.”

“Yeah, I’m really coming out of my shell, man. Mainly to beat the shit out of you, but still.”

Andy broke in. “While Joe’s busting his all-seeing ass finding our keys, maybe we should seek an alternative.”

“Getting a roof over our heads would be nice,” Patrick agreed. “Maybe you could Hulk out on a door?”

“If we do that, the alarm will go off, the cops won’t believe us, and Patrick’s mom will bail us out of a cell that smells like Pete’s socks,” Joe said. “Then she’ll take Patrick home and threaten to dump us at the bottom of Lake Michigan if we come near him again.”

He shivered, as though to drive his point home, but actually because the rain had finally soaked through his boxers.

Patrick leaned against the side of the van. “Can we not bring my mother into this? We’re kind of locked out of our fucking van in the middle of a rainstorm.”

“Make that a thunderstorm,” Joe corrected, moments before a boom cracked across the land.

Andy stared first at Joe and then at Pete. “And yet he can’t find our keys. That’s how bad you fucked up. Did you drop them out of the timestream or something?”

“Maybe one of his ghosty friends took them to the afterlife,” Patrick suggested.”As a souvenir.”

Pete scowled. “For your information, I haven’t had any ghosty friends around in a week.As far as I know.”

“There was that one dead chick who gave you a handjob three days ago. I’d call you on necrophilia, except I don’t think you even knew she croaked.”

Pete balked. “Dude! That’s fucking creepy, keep your omniscience out of my goddamn sex life.”

“Omniscience has nothing to do with it. You’re just really loud.”

Patrick tilted his head against the van and cackled. Andy bit his lip and counted the cracks in the asphalt.

“Ha-fucking-ha,” Pete said. “For your information, I’m not the only one who gets ghost-laid around here. There’s a dude undoing Patrick’s belt now, why don’t we laugh at—”

“There’s a what?!” Patrick screamed, kicking out his leg. Off-balance and panicked, he did the logical thing, and…tumbled right through the side of the van.

Moments later,a small, panicked blur rolled out the back and ran to hide behind Andy. “Is he gone?” he squeaked.

“No, and he was never there,” Pete said, sauntering over to the open doors. “But now the van’s open.”

Patrick scowled. “Motherfucker! Shit’s not cool.”

“It worked, though,” Andy said. “He gets points for that.”

He laughed at Patrick’s glare. “Oh, don’t be so uptight,” he declared, picking him up.

Patrick flailed a little and almost fell through his arms. “Dude! Warn a guy!”

“Sorry, bro.” No, he wasn’t. Picking up Patrick was one of the best things about touring with him, or being strong, or existing, really. He was warm and soft and portable, like a teddy bear, except one that wouldn’t shut up about Pete Wentz being a fucking douchenugget.

Andy tossed him over one shoulder and crawled in one of the side doors. “Nice job, Wentz. Maybe you’re not a hopeless shithead after all.”

“I need to up my game, then,” he said, sitting in the backseat, legs sprawled across the nasty old upholstery. “Can’t have you guys liking me— oh, you have a Patrick! Gimme!”

Andy dumped Patrick in the back, and Pete wrapped his arms around him and hauled him in so the small blonde sat up between his legs. The bassist rested his chin on top of his head.

“How are you so tiny? It’s wonderful. You’re wonderful. Stop wiggling, you little shit.”

Patrick stopped squirming and settled for pouting, because damn it, cuddling Pete meant sharing body heat, and Patrick was pretty fucking cold, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Joe poked his head over the seat from the back of the van. “You two are so cute.”

Pete flashed a toothy grin. “We know. Get over here, you must be freezing.”

“No, no, I don’t want to interrupt the moment. This is when you two start to fall in love.”

Patrick turned beet red. Pete’s grin became a genuine smile. “Really?!”

“Yep.” Joe crawled over the seat’s back and sat opposite them. “You’re gonna fall head-over-heels and have lots of great sex, and then Pete, you’re gonna propose onstage in front of millions of screaming fans, and Patrick will cry a little bit, and you’ll have a spring wedding and Andy will be the bridesmaid, and—”

“Will we have kids?” Pete asked.

“Loads,” he said. “You’ll adopt a whole troop of them. Little ones from Cameroon and Thailand and other politically correct places, and you’ll name them pretentious things like January, or Bronx, or Blue like that Joni Mitchell song. Did I mention the sex? It’ll be great. You’ll have lots of it. Loudly.Because, as we’ve established, Pete’s a screamer.”

Patrick groaned, rolled over, and buried his face in Pete’s chest. “Wentz, if you fall in love with me, I’ll send you to a doctor and get your head X-rayed.”

“No danger of that, my little lunchbox. I’m far more attracted to Joe here. Dashingly handsome, and witty to boot.Dunno how I’d kiss him with that fucking nose, though.”

Joe scooted closer and squirmed up next to Patrick between Pete’s legs.”We’d work it out somehow, honeybunch.”

Andy giggled from the front seat. “I feel left out. And very glad about it, too.”

Patrick reached out. “Don’t be too bummed. You can pick me up and tote me around while these two smooch.”

“Really?” He grabbed Patrick’s hand and looked at him with hopeful eyes.

“Yes, really. It’s kind of nice, being carted around like the goddamn Queen of Sheba.”

“You’ll regret saying so,” Andy warned, yawning.

Patrick yawned, too. “I know. But I don’t right now.”

“This moment is tender and all,” Pete said, “but someone is kind of crushing my balls, and it’s really cold, and we can’t turn on the heat without our keys.”

“Your point?” Joe asked.

“My point is that we should get up and find our keys. Or grab some blankets or towels or something. And one of you should get off my balls.”

So they all rolled off each other and began poking around under instruments and the countless other shit strewn in the back. Eventually, Joe had a vision, which entailed going into a trance and murmuring riddles more cryptic than Pete’s stupid-ass lyrics. They knew to ignore him until he came up out of it and flat-out told them, “Check under Pete’s underwear.”

Sure enough, there they were, and since Pete was the only one brave enough to touch them anymore, he was wrangled into driving while Joe slouched in the passenger’s seat and Andy and Patrick cuddled up in the backseat, twitching and mumbling in their sleep.

Pete watched them in the rearview mirror. “They’re saccharine,” he observed.

“Better that than bitter,” Joe observed.

“Yeah, but kind of too hands-on.Will they end up a thing?”

Joe pondered. “No, Patrick’ll always be your territory, man. Andy’s just a cuddleslut.”

“Fuck, that’s gotta be his one vice. I need to remember that.”

“Wow, it’s almost like you don’t trust him or something.”

He laughed it off. “I don’t trust anyone with that fucking godly amount of self-control.”

“You don’t trust anyone who puts their hands on Patrick, man. It’s kind of obvious.”

Pete fell silent.

“You need to knock it off with this leader-of-the-pack, you-are-all-mine-to-protect thing you’ve got going,” Joe went on. “Seriously, it’ll be fine. We’ll never need a protector. You can just be your idiotic self, and we’ll all muddle through together. Okay?”

After a few moments of digestion, Pete nodded. “Okay, fair enough.”

Awkward silence expanded between them. Then Pete said, “I…I just don’t wanna end up the only one that can see you guys. Y’know? I’ve had, like, nightmares about that shit. ‘Specially…well. ‘Specially about Patrick. Kid hits me right in the heart.”

Joe smirked. “We’re not going anywhere, bro. Especially not him, I promise you that. As far as I can see, we’re fine and happy and together, through everything. And you know I have a great view.”

Pete glanced in the mirror again, watched his friends nap peacefully in each other’s arms. Then he looked at Joe, all-knowing and still smiling, and settled on the flat road, stretching ahead out of sight, toward the next city, the next show, and then the one after that…

“You think your view is good, man. I have the best view of all.”