Fall Out Boy Oneshots

Don't Panic - Patrick Stump

"Patrick." I said, looking at my boyfriend's knuckles turning white against the cramped plane seat.

"What?" He snapped as he turned to me with panicked eyes.

I placed a hand on his shoulder in an effort to be comforting, "It'll be okay." I reassured him.

"You don't know that." He argued as he went back to staring out the window of and watching us take off.

"I do know." I shot back. He looked at me in confusion. "There were only 26 fatal plane crashes last year." I quoted.

"That's a lot." He said, his voice cracking slightly.

"Out of 31 million." I continued. Knowing of Patrick's fear of flying I'd been researching all this week for information that might make this slightly easier on him. I figured if I had enough facts to rebut his fears, maybe he would be able to relax a bit.

He took a moment to process the statistic, taking off his hat and resting it on his knee so that he could run a hand through his short, blonde hair, "Well... that's... I suppose..." He stumbled over his words, before nodding and looking back out the window.

I took his hand in mine to stop him from digging his nails into the armrest. "At least tell me why?" I asked gently.

"Why what?" He muttered.

"Why are you scared of flying?" I clarified with a small smile.

He let out a deep sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. After a minute of what I assumed was trying to compose his thoughts, he met my gaze. "Because, er..." He started. "It's just..." His eyes flicked down to my lips before he groaned. "Quit smiling at me, I can't stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that and I'm focusing on not dying." Patrick said.

"Good, let me be a distraction from it." I grinned, and saw him trying his best not to smile before he clearly got caught up in his own thoughts again.

"Planes just... shouldn't work. How does this tonne of metal, and people, and bags stay in the air?" He eventually answered - I felt his hand tense around mine as he said it.

"You want me to explain the science behind it?" I offered.

"No. The science doesn't make it make sense." He said, shaking his head.

It was hard to try and distract a man who didn't want to be distracted. He just seemed to wallow in his fear, which then just created a vicious cycle of making it worse.

"You see, it-"

"Shh... listen..." I interrupted, holding my hand in front of his face and feigning like I was listening to something.

"To what??" He asked urgently. "What is it??" His tone was quickly increasing in volume.

"That's the sound of me falling in love with you." I said seriously.

He let out an incredulous laugh. "That's not helping."

"Are you sure? You're smiling now." I chuckled, nudging his shoulder with mine.

"Maybe it's helping a little bit." He conceded.

The take-off continued without a hitch, as expected. Patrick continued to nearly hyperventilate, as expected. But once we were travelling smoothly, I heard his breathing even out slightly. He started rattling off odd little tidbits he knew about flying.

"I hear it gets cold, when we hit cruising altitude." He mentioned offhandedly.

"Good thing you're really warm." I said, winking at him.

"Am I?" He questioned, looking like he was blushing slightly as the steward handed us our dinners.

"Here, eat your tiny little sectioned out meal," I said, handing it across to him, "drink the free booze, and then take a nap with me." I suggested while he peeled the foil off the top.

"I dunno if I'll be able to get to sleep." He grimaced.

"Then drink more miniature bottles of liquor." I said with a laugh. "It'll go faster if you sleep."

He took a sip of the dark liquor in his plastic cup, looking like for the first time since we stepped onto the plane that he might be able to relax. "With you next to me, I think I can manage that." He smiled, pulling me in close to him and pressing a kiss to my temple.