Decorating with Fall Out Boy.

Joe:

"No, it can't be," you murmured to yourself, leaning closer over the steering wheel and squinting to get a clearer look through the windshield.

You were approaching your house, and from what you could see, there appeared to be something hanging from the roof. You had a nasty suspicion that it was either your boyfriend or his bandmate, but you gave them the benefit of the doubt and shook it off; surely they couldn't be that incapable of hanging Christmas decorations.

Upon pulling into your driveway, your suspicions were confirmed.

Your boyfriend, Joe, was dangling from the roof, holding onto a string of Christmas lights for dear life as Pete stood on the roof tiles, frantically trying to pull him up.

"OH MY GOD!" you exclaimed in a mixture of horror, disbelief and infuriation, hurriedly exiting your car and sprinting across the lawn to where the previously propped up ladder lay on the grass.

Swiftly, you set the ladder underneath Joe and carefully guided his feet to the steps. Once he was safely on the ladder, Pete let go and both guys sighed heavily in relief.

"Seriously, you guys?" you threw your hands up before setting them on your hips, frowning at both of them, "Can I not ever leave you two alone? First, you bury Joe in the snow, then you use the roof-gutter as monkey-bars!"

"I know what you're thinking," Joe spoke, stepping down from the ladder, "But this really wasn't our fault! The ladder fell over."

"Uh huh," you ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek and nodded, "And why exactly did the ladder fall over, Joe?"

Scratching the back of his neck, Joe avoided your gaze; as did Pete, who whistled through the silence.

"That's what I thought," you nodded mockingly before turning around and grabbing your bags from the car before heading inside, "Just know that now, not only will Pete definitely not be our baby's godfather, but you two are never, ever allowed alone with them!"

Andy:

You stifled a laugh as you watched Andy struggle to wrap the tinsel all around the tall frame of the Christmas tree.

"Why the heck did we buy such a huge tree?" he complained, stretching his arms as far as he could in order to wrap the tinsel around the entire tree.

"You're the one who wanted a big one," you chuckled, walking over to assist your husband, "Need I remind you the tantrum you threw over wanting to get this specific one?"

"You're smarter than me," he retorted as he draped the final piece of tinsel over the lower branches, "You're supposed to stop me from doing such stupid things."

"I've been doing that for almost five years now," you pointed out, adjusting one of the baubles that had gone askew, "I think I've earned a little break. There," you smiled, stepping back to admire the tree, "Beautiful."

"Yes, you are," he cooed, scooping you into his arms and nuzzling your neck, making you giggle in adoration.

"You're such a dork," you mumbled, ruffling his short hair as much as was possible.

"You love my dorkiness!" he defended, "Why else would you have stayed with me for five whole years?"

"Gosh," you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck and shaking your head in disbelief, "Can you believe it's been that long already?"

"I know," he murmured, gazing soulfully at you, "It's crazy. I can still remember the moment we first met as if it happened yesterday. I knew my life would change for the better from that moment, and I was right. It has. I love you more than anything."

"I love you too," you whispered, "Happy anniversary, baby."

Pete:

"Doll, help me put the star up?" Pete called out, struggling to reach the top of the towering Christmas tree.

"A star?" you quizzed, stepping into the living room, "I thought we agreed that we would put an angel on top."

"When did we agree on that?" he replied with a confused scrunch of his face.

"It's a given, is it not? Angels belong on the top of the Christmas tree. Not stars."

"That's bullshit," Pete snorted, and you let out an offended gasp.

Pete let out a gasp too, but the purpose of his one was to mock you.

The two of you stood in silence, staring at one another – eyes slightly twitching. A minute later, the soundtrack of the classic western standoff started playing, and the both of you slowly pivoted your head to look at Joe, who was playing the music from his phone.

"Go on," he encouraged, making a shooing motion with his hands.

"Pete," you spoke, turning back to your boyfriend, "we're putting an angel up there. End of argument."

"No, we're not! Everyone knows that stars belong up there!"

This back and forth continued on for the better part of an hour, during which both you and Pete each made multiple attempts to place your respective ornament on top of the tree as Joe observed from his seat on the nearby armchair. It was mildly entertaining at first, but after almost an hour, the novelty had worn off, and he was beginning to get irritated.

While you two were preoccupied with arguing, Joe took the opportunity to find a way to secure both the star and the angel on top of the tree.

"GUYS!"

"What?" you and Pete yelled in unison, whipping around to face Joe, who held out his hands to draw your attention to his solution.

"Oh," you said.

"Wow," Pete added.

"That looks stupid," you snorted.

"So stupid."

"What were you thinking, Joe?"

"Yeah. Take it down."

"But I... You... I just," Joe stammered, gesturing between you two and the tree. He gave up and waved a dismissive hand soon after. "Ah, fuck it. You two can fight it out. Ungrateful bitches."

Patrick:

You winced as you heard a crash; the unmistakeable sound of glass shattering. Turning around, you saw your boyfriend, wincing too and giving a sheepish smile.

"My mom got me those ornaments! Stop breaking them!" you scolded, carefully securing a bauble to the tree.

"It's not like I'm trying to break them!" he defended, gasping when another one slipped out of his grasp, resulting in yet another crash; the third one so far. "Oops," he chuckled nervously, casting his gaze downwards when he saw the death glare you were giving him. "Uh, maybe you should handle these."

"I think that would be best," you agreed, rushing to take the remaining three ornaments from your husband's arms before they too suffered a tragic end. "You can take over with these."

"Okie dokie," he replied happily, quite content in being tasked with handling the baubles.

Until you started yelling again, that is.

"THAT IS NOT WHERE THE BAUBLES ARE SUPPOSED TO GO!"

Patrick startled so much, his fedora fell off.

"WHY ARE YOU YELLING?"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!"

"I'M SORRY!"

"YOU SHOULD BE!"

"I AM!"

"GOOD!"

"Ugh," he groaned, removing the silver ball from the tree and readjusting its position so that it fell into the pattern you had going, "There. Is that better?"

"That's perfect," you beamed, "You're amazing."

Patrick raised an amused eyebrow. "Oh, so now I'm amazing? I could've sworn you were about to file for divorce a minute ago."

You frowned at him before looking down at your swollen tummy and gently caressing it.

"It's not my fault I'm having mood swings. Blame baby Stump," you pouted, and he sniggered, moving to plant a kiss on your head, and then kneeling to plant one on your stomach too, making you giggle.

"It's alright, I can handle it. It'll be worth it in the end," smooching your tummy one more time, he started rubbing it slowly, "You're the best Christmas gift I coulda ever wished for."

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