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Request: @StuckIn2013: 'Sweaters with Patrick Stump'

Prompt 17: Sweaters

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Patrick's sweater.

Navy blue, tremendously oversized, a tiny bit worn and frayed at the sleeves; it was more comforting than anything in the universe to you.

You loved wearing it. When the soft wool caressed your skin as you sunk into it, it felt as if you were being hugged by Patrick himself, and you absolutely adored it.

Patrick loved the sweater too – in fact, it was his favourite one – and usually, he wore it all throughout the Halloween-Christmas season. But now that the two of you were dating, and you had fallen in love with the piece of clothing just as he had, he would (quite reluctantly) leave his sweater at your place for you to wear whenever he was away – just so that you could have a metaphorical piece of him to hold on to until his physical form could take over.

Like now, for instance.

Fall Out Boy was currently on tour, which meant that you were at home, huddled on the sofa in Patrick's sweater. One of your arms were propped up on the armrest, holding up your head as your droopy eyes tried its hardest to stay focused on whatever show was on TV. Your puppy came bounding into the room and jumped up into your lap, and you let out a yawn before giving him a cuddle and readjusting so that the both of you could be comfortable. The playful pup nipped at the sleeves of the sweater, and you lightly swatted him away. Your pet was just as crazy over Patrick as you were, so you were certain that you weren't the only one who loved the item of clothing for the lingering scent it held.

"Nooooo," you whined, frowning as you once again swatted the hyper animal away. "I know you miss him. I do too, but ruining his clothes is not gonna help."

He let out a whine rather similar to your own, and after a few more nips, he settled down and fell asleep in your lap. Giggling softly, you scratched the top of his head before dozing off too.

~

The unwanted sound of your alarm woke you up the next morning, causing your pup to whine at the piercing sound. You stretched your arm out to the side of the bed, stroking his fur and mumbling an apology while your other hand killed the horrible noise. You zombied out of bed and towards the bathroom, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to wake up a bit more. Turning the tap on, you removed Patrick's sweater, leaving you in just your underwear; you walked back into the bedroom and put the sweater on the dresser, where you normally leave it until you return home and slip into its comfort again.

After finishing your morning routine (get dressed for work, have breakfast, feed the dog), you grabbed your coat from the hook next to the front door and slinked into its confines, grabbing your purse and keys.

"Okay," you said to the pup as you adjusted the collar of your shirt over your coat, "Be good. Mommy will be home soon. Love you."

You bent down to ruffle his fur, smiling when he wagged his tail in appreciation. Making sure you had everything you needed, you headed out the door, blowing a kiss at the animal in one last 'see you later'.

~

The workday was disappointingly uneventful. The only noteworthy thing was the new coffee machine they had installed in the break room; you practically squealed with joy at the sight of them. The previous machine had broken months ago, and you'd been living off of the crappy instant coffee they'd given as a replacement, which had no soothing effect on that caffeine itch of yours. So yeah, the new instalment was pretty darn amazing. But other than that, your day was pretty boring.

Trudging up the steps of the front porch and unlocking the door, your mind drifted to Patrick's sweater as you shrugged off your coat and hung it back on the hook.

"(Your/Dog's/Name), I'm home!" you yelled in a singsong voice, removing your pumps and wiggling your feet around. A confused frown fell over your face when you failed to hear the heavy thuds and happy panting as your pet ran to greet you, and you made your way around the house in search of him.

When you couldn't find him, you decided to try upstairs, and made your way up the steps while calling his name.

A devastated gasp fell from your lips and you dropped your shoes when you pushed open your bedroom door. Your pup was sitting in the middle of the room, happily chewing on what was left of Patrick's sweater; tiny shreds of it were strewn all across the floor.

"Oh, no!" you rushed forward, tapping the pup on the side of the head to tell him to let go, which he did. Another gasp escaped you and sadness filled your eyes as you examined the beloved piece of clothing. Well, what was left of it, anyway. It was practically non-existent at this point. 

Dropping your shoulders in disappointment, you looked at your dog. You so much wanted to be mad at him for ruining such an important thing, but his literal puppy-dog eyes made it impossible to do so. Instead, you sprawled yourself out on the floor next to him; he licked your face affectionately and you scratched the underside of his chin.

"Patrick's gonna kill the both of us, you know that?"

Lick.

"Guess we'll have to find a replacement, huh? One that looks exactly like it."

Lick.

"D'you think his mom would know where he got that one?"

Lick lick.

"Worth a shot," you shrugged, lifting yourself up so that you could grab your cell and call Patrick's mom. You nervously chewed on your fingernails, hoping that she would know where he got it so that you could go and get a replacement.

"Hello?" she picked up after the third ring.

"Hi, Mrs Stump," you greeted, "How are you?"

"Oh, (Y/N), hi! I'm wonderful, thanks for asking! How're things over on your side?"

"Not too great," you grimaced, "that's actually why I'm calling... do you remember that navy blue sweater of Patrick's? The one that he's totally besotted with?"

"Yes, of course!" she chuckled. "He's practically in love with that thing."

"Yeah," you chuckled nervously, twirling a strand of hair in your fingers, "Well, there was a bit of a, uh, accident."

"What do you mean?" You could sense her frown through the phone.

"Patrick bought me a puppy for my birthday two months ago, and he's not completely trained yet. So when I went to work this morning, he kinda... destroyed the sweater."

She gasped. "Oh, dear Lord."

You nodded even though she couldn't see you, and rubbed your eyes. "Do you by any chance remember where he bought it?"

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but he bought that sweater years ago. I honestly couldn't remember if I tried," she apologised over the phone.

You sighed and stressfully ran your fingers through your hair. "It's okay. It was a long shot. I guess I'll just have to go sweater-hunting, then."

"You should try that boutique on the corner of Main Street; I saw some lovely ones there just the other day."

"I'll make sure to do that. Thank you, Mrs Stump."

"Always a pleasure, sweetie. Take care."

"Buh-bye."

~

You walked through the front door, kicking your shoes off and walking to the kitchen to grab a drink from the fridge before sitting down at the kitchen table with a groan.

Patrick would be home in a week's time and for the first time ever, you were dreading it. You knew how much he loved that sweater, and now it was gone. Ripped to pieces. Irreparable.

And, it would seem, totally irreplaceable.

You'd spent the last four days searching for a replacement for the demolished sweater, but all your efforts spawned zero results. None of the shops anywhere in your city stocked sweaters like the kind Patrick's was. Even online, the only sweater you could find that remotely resembled his one was one that was designed for a seven-year-old.

Never in your life would you have thought that you would be so unwilling to see your boyfriend. Patrick would no doubt be upset – devastated, even – and he had every right to be. That sweater was one of his treasures, and it was all your fault that it was gone; you should've put it in the closet with the rest of the clothes, but no, you were too lazy.

Taking out your phone, you bit your lip in anticipation as you pulled up your messages, stomach dropping when you saw that you had zero new ones. You had enlisted the help of your friends and family living in other states or countries to find the sweater in their area, but so far, no one could find anything.

You tugged at your hair in frustration and hopped down from the kitchen barstool. Determinedly, you marched to the cupboard in the guest room, yanking it open and pulling down a box from the top shelf.

"You're my lost resort. Please, don't let me down."

~

"Mi amore," Patrick's angelic voice echoed through your house as his feet carried him around the rooms in search of you. "(Y/N), where are you? I missed you so-"

The sound of your sobs cut him off, and he hurried into the living room where you were sitting, navy blue wool scattered all around you.

"(Y/N)," he rushed forward to hold you, face and voice full of concern, "What happened?"

"I-I," you hiccupped through sobs, "I'm sorry, Trick. It's all my fault!"

"What's your fault? Mi amore, what happened?"

"Your-your sweater," you sniffled, "the puppy. He tore it apart and it's all my fault because I left it where he could reach it and now it's gone!" Patrick furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak but you continued, "And I tried to get you a new one but then I couldn't find one that looked anything like it; I even called everyone I know to see if they could find one but obviously they couldn't, so then-then I tried to make you one myself but of course, that failed miserably!" you threw your hands up in the air and laughed bitterly before picking up the disaster of a knitting-attempt you had done and waving it in your boyfriend's face. "SEE? IT'S TERRIBLE!"

Patrick glanced at the material you held in your hand, then to your tear-stained face, and laughed.

He laughed.

"Why are you laughing?" you asked in confusion, which only made him laugh harder; this made you angry. "It's not funny!"

"(Y/N)," he pulled you into his chest and continued giggling, "it's just a silly sweater. You didn't have to stress yourself out over it."

"It wasn't 'just a silly sweater'," you scoffed, pushing away, "It was my link to you while you're away."

"Baby, you could have all the clothes in my closet if you wanted it," he smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear, "That sweater isn't the only thing that smells like me, ya know."

"Yeah, but... I know how much you loved that one," you cast your gaze downwards.

"I did," he nodded, "but, I mean, let's be real here. I haven't worn that thing for, what, almost a year now? It was basically yours," he chuckled, "So," he unzipped his jacket to reveal a maroon sweater, "I had to find another one. I've practically been living in this thing for the entirety of the tour."

You scoffed and smiled in disbelief; Patrick beamed at you. "So, you're not upset?"

"Not really," he shrugged and shook his head, "And, how can I be?" he picked up your knitting, "This is way better than any sweater money could ever buy."

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