(Patrick's POV)

I wasn't singing Pete's bullshit song. He only wrote it to get back at me anyway. All the guys were voting against me but I didn't care. I was the one who had to go into the studio and record. So I would have the final say in what I chose to sing. And American Bullshit was not going to be it. I wasn't singing it!

Yesterday Pete rudely slammed his make shift lyric sheet against my chest. And I promptly helped it become buddy buddy with one of my favorite lighters. Unfortunately, Pete had the damn song memorized. We were supposed to be meeting at the DCD2 recording studio today to put some music behind that ridiculous 'song'. Of course I had a recording studio in the basement, but Pete wasn't welcomed to my house while my wife was present. So our manager suggested the label studio.

So that's where I was headed now. I'd taken an uber because I wasn't the best driver. And quite frankly, I wasn't in a good enough head space to drive. I'd probably end up crashing into another car. I was filled with so much angst.

As luck would have it, I pulled up at the exact same time Pete did. I waited for him to get our before I did. It was clear he hasn't noticed me yet. He was staring at some bluebirds pitched on a bench. Probable taking a picture of them for Instagram. I could imagine his stupid caption now. 'I know why the blue birds sing.' Or something else similarly stupid. They began chirping. Pete chirped back. I snorted and he spun around. Glaring when he realized it was me.

"So now you speak bluebird, huh?" I mocked.

"Yup," he said easily, waking past me and into the entrance. "They said Patrick Stump has a little dick." He began laughing at his own joke.

"Oh, grow the fuck up, Pete." I walked in behind him. We waited together for the elevator. It dinged and we walked on. I pressed the button to our floor a little harder than necessary. Causing it to hit the side of my nail. I'd meant to clip them. "Ah shit. My nail!" I muttered. Pete laughed. I frowned.

"Such a fucking little valley girl."

"Oh fuck you!"

The doors slid open on our floor and we walked to the door we were supposed to be in. Joe and Andy were already there. Andy was hitting the drums lightly and Joe looked to be tuning his guitar. They both stopped what they were doing when we walked in.

"You guys rode up together?" Joe asked.

"Yeah." I sat on the leather couch. "So."

"And you didn't kill each other?" Andy chuckled.

"Don't give me ideas, Hurley." Pete warned. I rolled my eyes.

"So you still haven't made up then."

"Never gonna happen." I called from the couch.

"This is going to become another band problem." Joe sighed.

"No it isn't." I disagreed. "The problem will stay between us."

"No. You're the problem." Pete pointed to me. "The problem will stay within you."

"You're the fucking problem! You're the reason we'll never be okay again."

"If that's the outcome of me being the problem, I will happily stay a problem."

"Of course you'd happily stay an asshole."

"You were happy with my asshole a week ago." He shot back. I gasped. Joe made gagging sounds. Andy pretended not to hear. Well if they weren't sure before, they obviously knew now. "How's your wife enjoy sleeping in those blankets?"

"Elisa? You're back with her?" Andy asked. He and Joe shared a look I didn't understand. I ignored them. Pete didn't.

"Yes, she is back and bigger than ever?"

"Bigger?" Joe questioned.

"Shut the fuck up, Pete,"

"She's pregnant. Fucking pregnant." He told them anyway.

"No way!"

"Way!" Pete said in an overly animated voice. Walking around the room. "But it's the baby I feel bad for. Poor little son of a bitch." He stopped in front of me and winked. "Literally."

I stood then. "You have some nerve. You're having a baby with a girl you didn't even see fit enough to marry!" We were standing directly in front of each other. Just a few inches away. "I might be having a son of a bitch, but you're going to have a bastard."

I saw rather than felt Pete's fist connect with my jaw. The unsuspected punch caused me to fall back on couch. Joe and Andy were up and rushing to us immediately. I stood back up and lunged for Pete. But Joe grabbed me before I could touch him. Andy did the same to Pete. I struggled with every bit of strength in me to get free. But Joe's grip wouldn't loosen. We knocked over the table and pushed things around in our struggle. Andy slammed Pete and held him still on the floor. I could see pete pathetically scrambling to get free. Like a rat from a trap. He was a fucking little rat. The door slammed open and we all stopped.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" Our manager, Kay, stood in the doorway.

**** **** **** **** **** ****
(Andy's POV)

We all sat side by side on the couch. Patrick and Pete of course on opposite side with Joe and I between them. The studio was a mess. And Kay was livid.

"What the hell is wrong with you guys? Do you have any idea how much this will cost?!"

"Patrick started it." Pete said childishly.

"Oh, you can dish it out but you can't take it." Patrick didn't look at him when he spoke.

"I can take it about as well as you took that punch."

"It was a fucking sucker punch." Patrick faked laughter. "You hit me when I wasn't expecting it. I'll bet you wouldn't try that again."

"Don't make stupid bets."

"Don't test me, Wentz-"

"Enough!" Kay yelled. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous you both sound?! You two are best friends."

"Ex-friend."

"Pete," she glared at him. He grunted. "There are already so many critics circulating since the release of Centuries. We don't need added drama. Those vultures could be anywhere."

"We're sorry." I pouted. Her face softened.

"I know you are Andy." She ran her hands through her hair and sighed. "I want a new song. Recorded and ready by the end of the session."

"We have one-"

"I'm not singing that, Joe."

"Shut up!" Kay threw both hands up. "Then write another one everyone is happy with. I mean I want the music the words and Patrick's voice on it. Hold up." She walked out of the door. Leaving us alone. None of us moved. She stormed back in with a poster board and markers in her hand.

"Kay, what-"

She interrupted Joe. "You each get a marker." She handed Patrick a red one, Me a green one, Joe a blue one and Pete a black one. "I want you to brainstorm together on this poster board. Write down all ideas. Lyrics, notes, titles. Hell draw a picture if you need to. But I want that song." She sat the table back to it's correct place, putting the poster board on it. "Go."

She left the room, slamming the door behind her. We all sat there for a few seconds before I slid off the couch and began writing. The others guys did the same. It was deathly quiet in the room. The only sound to be heard was the squeaking of the markers against the paper. I don't know how long it took, but eventually the poster was full. We sat down the markers and started looking over the page.

The blue birds say Patrick has a really small penis. Written in black of course.

This is our culture. Green.

Put your anger on. Red.

Black ski mask song. Blue.

Love full of Novocaine. Red.

Just a son of a gun. Blue.

Cast out the vultures. Because this is our culture. Green.

In gruesome do we trust." Black

Landing punches ;). Black.

Sucker punching, asshole. Red

Your worse nightmare. Blue.

I'm stuck. Don't stop. Green.

Don't mind me. Blue.

Sore jaw. Numb heart. Red.

Problems unsolved. Blue.

Let's clap for the douche bag. Red.

Hold back your applause the way you hold back the truth. Just the look in your eyes show all of the proof. Black.

Valley girl, I don't feel a thing for you." Black.

"We can make a song from this. This is great!" All the guys looked at me as if I'd grown a third eye.

"We can?" Joe asked.

"I feel like it's missing a hype point. Like something to make everything pop. I'm not feeling it." Patrick admitted.

"We could bring the hype with the music." Joe suggested.

"We did a stick up for inspiration, why not hijack the hype?" Pete suggested.

"That's genius!" It really was. This was going to be good.

**** **** **** **** **** ****
(Patrick's POV)

"This is a black- black ski mask song. So put all of your anger on. In the truly gruesome do we trust. I will always land on you like a sucker punch."

I glared at Pete when I said the last part. We'd already recorded the music for the song. And now I just had to record the vocals. Pete was in the booth with me on back up vocals. Which isn't really vocals at all. Its just him screaming into a fucking mic. Poor microphone. Kay was sitting and watching us with cautious eyes. probably worried we'd kill each other.

"Screaming I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare!"

"Na na na nanana. Nana. Na na na." Pete added and I rolled my eyes.

"I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare. If you knew. Knew what the bluebirds sang at you, you would never sing along. Cast them out cause this is our culture. These new flocks are nothing but vultures." For some reason I handled the note exactly like I did the one in Phoenix. Andy's drum work cued me in. "Because they took our love and they filled it up. Filled it up with Novocaine and now I'm just numb. Now I'm just numb."

"N-N-Novocaine." Pete chanted beside me.

"Don't mind me, I'm just a son of a gun. So don't stop. Don't stop until your heart goes numb. Now I'm just stuck." I couldn't help but land my eyes on Pete as I sung the next part "I don't feel a thing for you!" I deliberately dragged the note out. The guitar cued me in this time. "I'm just a problem that doesn't want to be solved. So would you please hold your applause. Take this side show and all its freaks. Turn it into the silver screen, screen. Singing in am your worst nightmare. If you knew. Knew what the blue birds sang at you. You would never sang along. Cast them out cause this is our culture. These new flocks are nothing but vultures!" I sung the course again. Staring at Pete the entire time. This was a hate song. And though I didn't write all the lyrics like he had with his song, it was still directed at him.

"Nanananananananananana." He chanted.

"Umm umm I-I-I say one day the valley's gonna swallow me whole!"

"Hijak the hype. Hijack the hype!"

"I feel like a photo that's been over exposed." I held that note as well. It was a lyric I added at the last minute. And I felt like that completely.

"Hijack the hype. Hijack the hype!"

"Because they took our love and they filled it up! Filled it up with Novocaine and now I'm just numb. Now I'm numb." I heard Pete sing it with me. "Don't mind me, I'm just a son of a gun."

As I was singing, I moved a little away from the mic. A little closer to Pete. I don't know why. I needed to make sure he heard what I was saying. Understood that I was using his own words against him. If I couldn't hurt his physically, I was going to do my best to crush him with my voice. Pete moved a way from his mic too. Meeting me half way. I saw Joe move to interrupt but Kay held his arm to stop him.

"N-n-novocaine. Novocaine." He kept chanting as I sung in his face.

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Until your heart goes numb!"

"Novocaine. Novocaine."

"Now I'm just stuuuck!" I grabbed his shirt and pulled him to my chest roughly. And then I screamed the last line. "I don't feel a thing for you!"