I Could Have Died With You; 03

Turned out, some of the guys Pete/Jason knew were actually kind of funny. Not hilarious or thoroughly witty, but... you know. They weren't that bad. But Scarlet was there working, she reminded herself. That was not the time to make friends.
Or enemies. That was definitely not the time to make enemies, either. Like that Mindy/Cindy girl. God, was she annoying. The way she laughed at everybody's jokes even when it was obvious she didn't get them, and her tiny irritating voice when she talked... not to speak of the way she was practically sitting on Pete's lap, his hands crawling disgustingly onto her legs, and the way he touched her like no one else was watching. Gross. Totally, totally gross.
Scarlet grabbed her camera phone and, discretely so no one would notice, snapped a few shots of the people around her. That was, after all, the reason why she was there. She photographed Patrick and Charlie being cute together, and that William Beckett guy laughing with this other person Scarlet couldn't tell if was a boy or a girl, and Joe and his adorable girlfriend and Pete being gross with whatsername.
And Scarlet was so compromised with her dubious work she almost jumped in surprise (and embarrassment) when someone touched her shoulder. She turned around to look apologetically at Charlie, shoving her cell phone hurriedly in her bag. "Look, I can explain..."
"Scarlet!" Charlie yelled enthusiastically over the loud music. "Come with me to the bathroom."
Scarlet blinked several times, surprised that she hadn't been caught, but grabbed Charlie's hand and followed her to the back of the club like everything was okay.
"So, you and Patrick, huh?" Scarlet said, leaning against the bathroom wall while Charlene entered one of the stalls.
"Yeah, pretty much." She heard Charlie say, nonchalantly, but she could sense the joy in her voice.
"How is he?" Scarlet found herself asking and buried her face on her palm. Steve had brainwashed her all too well. "You know, as a boyfriend."
Charlie came out of the bathroom stall and began to wash her hands on the sink. "Oh, he's not exactly my boyfriend." She said like it wasn't that big of a deal. "We're still trying to figure things out, I guess."
Scarlet nodded knowingly as Charlie dried her hands. That wasn't that juicy of a gossip, truth be told. But Scarlet was used to write about CD's and gigs, not relationships, and didn't know what else to ask.
"What about you and Pete?" Charlie asked suddenly, breaking Scarlet out of her daze. Huh?
"What about it?"
"Oh, you know, after you guys kissed and all, I really thought something was going to happen." Charlie explained, looking at her own reflection in the mirror now as she fixed her hair.
"We didn't kiss! He attacked me!" Scarlet defended, gesturing nervously and unnecessarily. Really, couldn't they just forget that had ever happened? It wasn't like she remembered it anymore.
Charlie laughed. "Right", she said sarcastically. "You totally looked like you weren't enjoying it."
"And I wasn't!" Seriously, Scarlet did not need to be reminded of those disgusting lips on her own. "God, could we just not?"
Charlie made the last readjustment to her hair and turned around to face Scarlet. "Sure. Just don't be surprised when you two can't take it anymore and are all over each other again."
Scarlet shrugged her shoulders uninterestedly but checked her makeup on the mirror before following Charlene outside.

---

Patrick was still asleep when Pete rang his doorbell the next morning. It had been a long night: Patrick wasn't exactly a party animal and all the clubbing was rather tiring, and besides, he had just gotten back from touring, which never failed to wear him out. You'd think Pete would know this and fight his urge to drop by at ass o'clock in the morning, but oh no, Pete had such better things in mind.
Patrick forced himself out of the comfort of his bed after Pete had ringed the doorbell for the tenth time. Tiny little creep, he just wouldn't go away. He glanced at the monitor next to his front door where Pete greeted him with a shit-eating wentzface on the screen, opened the door downstairs without saying a word and went into the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth while he waited for Pete to climb all the stairs, and, or, take the elevator.
"Good morning, sunshine!" Pete sang off-key a couple of minutes later when he finally reached Patrick's apartment. "I brought you your daily dose of the Wentz!" he announced happily, welcoming himself into the living room and dropping the contents of his hands on Patrick's coffee table.
When Patrick emerged from the bathroom, already wearing his glasses and a hat but still in his flannel pajama, he found Pete lying on his couch, the TV on on some hip hop music video and two cups from Starbucks and a bunch of magazines and newspapers swallowing his coffee table whole.
"Coffee", Patrick mumbled sleepily, gesturing at one of the cups from Starbucks, specifically the one Pete hadn't contaminated with his germs yet.
"Yeah, and coffee also", Pete said boringly, handing Patrick the cup, offended that his friend was more interested in his daily dose of caffeine than in 'the Wentz'. Fortunately, or not so, Pete's tantrums never lasted too long (or long enough) and soon he was moving around on the couch, making room for Patrick and throwing his feet on his lap once Patrick was installed. "So, I couldn't sleep, right?"
Patrick rolled his eyes because that was nothing new, and took a sip from his moccachino because if he was going to have to listen to Pete at ass o'clock in the morning he was definitely going to need caffeine.
"So I went out really early and bought us a whole lot of magazines", Pete continued, excitedly. "Let's see what Britney's been up to lately!"
Patrick knew Pete couldn't care less about Britney's whereabouts. It was what he had been up to lately Pete was interested in, you see, Pete had always had a slight obsession with what magazines said of him. Not always, just... just when he was sleepless and insecure and lonely. So, always, yeah.
"Pete, I really think there's no use in..."
"Oh hey, this one says I'm dating Lindsay Lohan." Pete informed excitedly, reading through the first magazine of the pile he had bought. Patrick shook his head and picked up Cosmo Girl. Sometimes it was not worth to argue with Pete. Never; it was never worth to argue with Pete.

Two cups of coffee and three hundred Paris Hiltons later, Patrick wished he had kicked Pete out of his apartment when he had the chance. Or never opened the door in the first place. Pete had way too much fun looking at photos of himself.
"Oh hey, that's Scarlet's magazine." Patrick noticed, looking at the cover of the magazine his friend was currently reading. Pete looked at him not-so-happily from behind it.
"Rickster, there're photos of us here." He informed.
"Well, it's a music related magazine, you'd expect..."
"No", Pete interrupted. "There're photos of us from last night. At the party. Doing nothing related to music." He passed the magazine on to Patrick.
And there it was. Everybody partying like tomorrow would never come. Pete making out with Mindy. Patrick, stay-away-from-the-magazines Patrick, kissing Charlie. And the caption: Fall Out Boy's Patrick Stump and girlfriend Charlie Campbell. Charlie was not his girlfriend.
"I'll be right back." Pete said before storming out.

---

Scarlet typed furiously on the keyboard of her computer. Oh god, album reviews were the best kind of fun. It was really the most entertaining part of her job, even though Steve often didn't include her original reviews in the magazine and forced her to change them into something "less bitchy and more professional". Screw Steve. He was such a dictator.
"Hey, Scar."
Scar looked up from her computer screen at a short figure shadowing her desk. No one that she knew of called her that at the magazine and what the hell was Pete Wentz doing there, god?
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Pete said nothing, merely threw at her a magazine Scarlet was all too familiar with. Scarlet didn't need to look at it or ask questions. She knew what he meant.
"Did you do this?" Pete asked, more calmly than Scarlet would have expected. Actually, and truth be told, Scarlet wasn't expecting this at all; to be confronted with the pictures she took. It was her job, and it wasn't like she had promised them she wouldn't do any of it.
"No." So why hadn't she admitted it? It wasn't like Pete could do anything about her merely doing her job.
"Are you sure?" he asked again, raising a brow. "Come on Scar, you were there for no reason, then these photographs show up in your magazine the next morning. It's too much of a coincidence."
Scarlet stood up so she could be face-to-face with Pete (which still didn't happen, because even though Pete was as pocket-sized as it gets, he was still taller than Scarlet), and glared at him as fiercely as she possibly could.
"Look, Jason", she started, metaphorically sharpening her claws. "This isn't my magazine, you know? I don't decide what gets published. And besides, anyone could have done it, okay? It doesn't have to necessarily be me."
Pete grabbed the magazine from her desk and flipped through it until he found the so discussed page, almost rubbing it in her face.
"Then how come you're not in any of the pictures, huh?" he asked, raising his tone considerably, which earned them the attention of a lot of Scarlet's coworkers. The journalist looked around semi-embarrassed and swallowed hard.
"Because I'm no one important, alright?" she told him, with unnecessary hand gestures. "It's not my fault all your famous friends decided to assemble last night. I'm sorry but you can't blame this on me."
Pete threw the magazine at the desk again. "Then who should I blame it on? No, really, think with me: you show up at the after-party of my friends' concert..."
"I was there to interview The Academy."
Pete ignored her. "... you went to join us at our table..."
"You dragged me there, you idiot!" This didn't seem to affect Pete's train of thought in the least.
"... you stick around for the whole night without throwing anything at my head..."
"Your huge, idiotic head." Scarlet added, for emphasis.
"... then the next morning all these pictures of me and Cindy making out and Patrick and Charlie together and Travis dancing and whatever show up at the magazine you work for, and..."
"Well, maybe you shouldn't have made out with her!" What? Oh god. Scarlet mentally punched herself in the stomach.
"... I don't think this is... Wait, what?" Pete made a very necessary pause when her words sank in, then smirked. "Are you jealous?"
Scarlet crossed her arms over her chest. "Of a girl whose name you can't remember for the life of you? Yes, very." She replied and hoped her sarcasm was sensed.
Pete frowned, opened his mouth to reply, but settled for sighing exasperatedly. He had an idea.
"You know, Patrick is having this dinner thing at his place tomorrow," he started, his tone changing remarkably and throwing around his charm like it made any difference to Scarlet. "Just a few close friends, Joe and Andy, their girlfriends and stuff. You should come."
Scarlet blinked at him in disbelief. "What?"
"You heard me. Be there at 8. You like sushi, right?" Pete continued, ignoring her confusion as he made his way towards the door. This was going to be great.
"But..." Scarlet tried, staring at the back of his head as Pete left the editorial office with his sidekick in his hands.
dinner@ur house 2morrow pattycakes. i have a plan.