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Thrift stores reek of old people. This is common knowledge for most. A store is wont to smell of its target audience and the source of most of their products. Still, the stench is pretty jarring when Andy and Patrick walk in.
“Okay,” Andy says as the door closes behind them, “I’ll go left, you go right. We should find something decent if we split up.”
Patrick snorts, “Why are we going at this like it’s an attack mission? It’s just a stupid crib, should be easy enough to find.”
Andy shrugs in his mildly amused manner.
“its just more interesting that way,” he says, before going on his way with no preamble. He’s kind of right, Patrick thinks. Looking for a baby crib in a musty thrift store is not how he’d usually want to spend his summer. Patrick wishes Pete hadn’t asked them to do this
Patrick can barely focus on the task at hand as he laments Pete’s promiscuity. It’s not that he’s a whore. Seriously. It’s just that Pete’s… popular
The girl he’s saddled with now is completely different from the one he had a few months ago, and the same was true about that girl, but it’s not that he’s doing it on purpose.
Pete’s got this thing where he can’t spend too much time single or he’ll convince himself he’ll die alone forever; and he really does love these girls, even if he doesn’t realize it’s just friendly love.
The most recent girl, Sadie, is the first one he’s gotten pregnant.
Well– maybe pregnant. Nobody’s sure yet, is what Pete told them, but: “I have a feeling about how this’ll go,” is what Pete also told them, obviously implying he’s pretty sure she’s gonna be pregnant.
Since then, he’s been sending Patrick, Joe, and Andy on these little “baby missions” (as Joe’s been calling them), so that he can seem like a good responsible boyfriend. He’s stockpiled diapers, formula, and as many pickles as you can buy at a Walmart. He’s trying to seem like a good boyfriend, Patrick thinks. Andy says it’s admirable but Patrick just thinks he looks more like a try-hard douche. Especially because all of these things they can barely afford while on tour; but of course Pete has to prioritize a girl.
There are no cribs in this stupid thrift store for some reason. There should be for sure, most babies outgrow their own anyway. Patrick angrily kicks some wooden structure that decidedly isn’t a crib, then regrets it immediately, falling onto the floor in agony at his stubbed foot.
“Hey I found one!” he hears from right above him, and, instead of answering to Andy, he stays on the floor and pouts.
“It actually looks pretty good for thrifted,” Andy keeps going, which is what Patrick expected, “and it’s cheap too; I think Pete will be happy.”
Patrick sighs largely and dramatically before hopping back up to face Andy. Immediately he grabs Patrick’s arm.
“C’mon, let’s go get it before someone else does,” he says, and Patrick lets himself get dragged across the dank thrift store.
The left side of the thrift store is decidedly crib-less.
Patrick sighs with his hands on his hips as Andy meanders around the furniture section with furrowed brows.
“I think someone took it, Andy,” Patrick sighs, if only to stop Andy from running circles around the place.
“Noooooouuughgh” Andy groans, “Pete’s gonna be so disappointed, he really liked this one.”
“Wait–” Patrick gives Andy a scrutinizing look, pointedly ignoring his kicked puppy face, “did you tell Pete about the crib before we bagged it? Why!?”
Andy opens his mouth to say something, but instead stares out into the distance like one of those freaky bats.
“Wha–”
“There.” Andy points somewhere behind Patrick, and he turns to see an old lady speaking to the shop’s owner right outside the door, and between them is the only crib in the entire establishment.
A reddish-brown blur of Andy zips past him before Patrick’s arm gets caught in the crossfire. Suddenly he’s trailing behind a determined Andy, and they’re making their way right out the door.
“Stop!” Andy calls out as soon as they make it out, and Patrick rips his arm away to tuck his face into his hands. This is by far the stupidest thing that’s ever happened as a direct result of Peter Wentz, and that’s really, really, saying something.
“Excuse me,” the old lady says, confused, and for good reason. Why oh why does Andy look like he’s about to have a standoff with this nice woman? Jesus, can Patrick just sink into the floor right now? That’d be amazing, truly.
“We need that crib!” Andy says, and Patrick has never wanted to die more. Pete’s got some competition for suicidality.
“Well,” The owner says, looking like he’s already weighed the pros and cons of being an instigator, “This lady hasn’t bought it yet, soooo...”
“What!?” The lady yelps and stares up at the man incredulously, “No, I was just buying it! I just think it should maybe be just a little cheaper– Ack!”
Andy leapt forward and snatched the crib just as her sentence finished. Now he’s bolting. Again. Patrick genuinely hates him so much.
They both rush towards the register, basically speed-running the entire interaction before finally, the crib is bought and well accounted for.
The old lady is still outside with the owner, jaw dropped while the owner dies of laughter on the hard sweltering ground.
Andy doesn’t even rush to the car when it’s done. Instead, he drops the thing and starts jumping up and down, cheering like a little girl and embarrassing Patrick even more.
He’s interrupted from his agony by his phone vibrating in his pocket. Patrick takes it out and sees it’s Pete.
Andy’s long stopped jumping, looking at the phone expectantly as Patrick picks up and puts it on speaker.
“Hello?”
All Patrick can hear is sniffling and the sterile air of what Patrick recognizes as a hospital room. Patrick’s stomach drops, and he doesn’t even get to ask before Pete’s saying:
“She isn’t pregnant.”