Smile For Me
Title: Smile For Me
Author: elucreh
Pairing: Implied Panic GSF
Rated: PG
Summary: Late-night bus shenanigans! Sleepover games! A lot of acknowledgement that, no really, they are not alone on those buses!
A/N: Though this is set during the tour with the Dresden Dolls and the Hushies, I completely fabricated their route, because I am lazy like that. All techs are original characters and not based on real people at all, and this story is similarly fictional. The "Techs" section of the Ill-Kept Secret 'Verse.
"Now, we're all agreed?" Brendon asks, a stern look on his face. "No whining, everybody in, what the hat says goes?"
There are murmurs of agreement, and Jake tries not to let his apprehension show on his face. He doesn't know how he winds up at these parties. It's three in the morning after a show, and Spencer's motherfucking snare was either dropped or possessed between Kansas City and Phoenix, because it took half an hour's fiddling to get it right. He should be sleeping, not roped into what's probably going to turn into another round of Strip Poker because half the time Amanda rigs the drawing. (Not that he has anything to be ashamed of when the shirts come off, but sometimes he thinks of all the times he's promised his mother that he isn't going to any wild parties and cringes, because Strip Poker is not on her list of approved party activities. Not even if the most licentious thing that's ever happened was that one time they left the blinds up and four different semis blasted approval of Greta's black bra.)
But the performers come off a show high as kites on adrenaline, too wound up to sleep or even to keep it down enough to let other people sleep, and anyway like hell is he going to be outlasted by a bunch of androgynous teenagers, even if they can keep going all night.
Brendon pulls a slip of paper out of the hat. "And the name of the game is--"
Spencer starts a drumroll on top of Chris's head.
"Smile for Me."
Half the room groans, but Jake's mostly just glad Amanda didn't get to the papers this time. He doesn't know this one, but it has to be better than yet another night of Brendon pretending to pay attention to breasts.
"What is it?" the Hushies' guitar tech, Tilda, demands.
Spencer smiles at her. "Brendon got it from his cousins," he explains. "One person is 'it.' He has to find somebody he can make smile. If he chooses a victim and the victim can manage to say 'Baby, I love you but I just can't smile,' he has to give up and move onto somebody else. No tickling, but faces are allowed."
Jake leans down and whispers in Dusty's ear. "Why is everybody groaning?"
"Brendon always winds up in the middle," she whispers back. "He can't keep a straight face." Jake slaps his forehead in mock dismay, and Dusty grins at him.
She's right. Greta loses Eenie Meenie Miney Mo, and-being as smart as she is pretty-she goes for the obvious weakling in the herd. She starts toward the other end of the bus, but stops and tosses a look back over her shoulder, all mischief and a silly nose scrunch. "Brendon," she says, daring him with her voice, her eyes. "Smile for me."
Brendon's pretty obviously aware of his losing streak. His lips are pursed against any signs of humour. "Baby," he says, low, laughter already rumbling beneath the surface of his voice, "I love you, but I just can't-" suddenly Greta sticks out her tongue at him, and he gives in with a shout of laughter.
He gets up and bows his defeat, still giggling, and she collapses across Amanda and Katie Kay, grinning up at him. "No tag-backs, Brendon."
"What am I, in kindergarten? I know that."
Brendon turns slowly, looking over each of his potential victims with a measuring eye. Jake makes sure to give him his very best unimpressed look. Brendon looks intrigued by the challenge for a minute, but he seems to decide to save his best efforts for later.
Finally his eye lands on Tilda. Tilda's small and compactly built; her beauty's in the way her fingers move over a guitar string and the grin on her face when she turns it up to the sky, sweaty with sun and heaving heavy equipment. Jake's maybe given her beauty a lot of thought.
Brendon walks over to her and drops to the cushion beside her. "Tilda," he says, his voice low, intimate in the wash of the crowd's breathing.
"Yes, Brendon?" she replies, turning away from him and biting her lip, obviously trying not to giggle. Brendon walks his fingers up her arm, and catches the underside of her chin, turning her face up to his.
"Smile for me," he says, and breaks out the big grin that makes the fangirls' panties evaporate, delight and triumph beaming all over his face.
Jake doesn't blame her when she can't help but smile back.
The nice thing about Brendon's turns-even if there are a lot of them, because anybody who wants an easy out just makes a face at him-is that they don't last long; Brendon has a lot of practice being adorable at people.
It's more fun than Jake expected; after the first few lame attempts, the running jokes build up. Don the lighting guy likes to get down on one knee and serenade you with filthy words set to childrens' songs--oh my girlfriend's going down, going down, going down--and Zack is Jon's victim of choice, every time. It's gotten so that when Mira lets her hair down from its clip in a swoosh, she doesn't even have to do the sexy pout-everybody knows it's coming, and the whole crowd is awhoop with laughter while the poor victim tries to keep it together.
If Brendon's the easiest nut to crack, Ryan's the toughest-he hasn't had a turn yet, and they've been playing almost an hour. Every new round starts with an attack on Ryan's Fortress of Calm-partly because nobody's done it yet, and partly because everybody knows Ryan hates to lose. It's like the Ultimate Challenge. "I refuse," Bob announces loudly, stepping in to the ring after he went down like a ton of bricks in the face of Spencer's James Bond impression, "to let this game end without somebody taking Ryan down."
"Bring it," Ryan says, smug running through his voice, although not a shadow of a smirk is showing on his face. "I've got all night."
Ryan lets Bob try for almost ten minutes before telling him he loves him but he just can't smile, and Bob sighs with theatrical despair and goes to rub his head against Brian like a cat instead.
Maybe Ryan has all night, but the rest of them are winding down; Chris and Darren are curled together in a corner like puppies, and Katie Kay has to stop mid-giggle to yawn.
"Okay, okay,"Zack says finally, setting his beer down after Brendon cracks for Dusty's wide-eyed plea that her children were starving for the sight of a beautiful grin. "Ryan is Lord High Robot, Brendon gets last place for giggling before Tim even said anything, and some of us have to work tomorrow."
"You have no idea how honored I am," Ryan deadpans, and the crowd crack up and starts climbing to their feet. Most of them head off, although a few stick around to help clear up the empty bottles scattered around the room.
Ryan collapses backward with a groan. "Honored, maybe, but tired, definitely. Somebody help me up so I can stumble to bed." Brendon and Spencer stick out their hands and haul him to his feet. He flops against Brendon, and Brendon squeezes Ryan's ass. Ryan smiles for the first time all night, and Jake catches Spencer winking at Jon across the room as he slides a hand to join Brendon's.
Jake doesn't know how they fool anybody, honestly.
He rolls his eyes and catches Tilda looking at Brendon with surprise on her face. Surprise and maybe...disappointment? Oh. Huh. Maybe they do fool some people. Although clearly not for long.
Jake is down with being a rebound guy, though, and he goes over and offers to take the trash bag she's holding to the venue dumpster.
He stops on the way out the door to look back and grin at her-maybe he's no Brendon Urie, but he's been told he's got a pretty good smile, for all that.
She smiles back.
Author: elucreh
Pairing: Implied Panic GSF
Rated: PG
Summary: Late-night bus shenanigans! Sleepover games! A lot of acknowledgement that, no really, they are not alone on those buses!
A/N: Though this is set during the tour with the Dresden Dolls and the Hushies, I completely fabricated their route, because I am lazy like that. All techs are original characters and not based on real people at all, and this story is similarly fictional. The "Techs" section of the Ill-Kept Secret 'Verse.
"Now, we're all agreed?" Brendon asks, a stern look on his face. "No whining, everybody in, what the hat says goes?"
There are murmurs of agreement, and Jake tries not to let his apprehension show on his face. He doesn't know how he winds up at these parties. It's three in the morning after a show, and Spencer's motherfucking snare was either dropped or possessed between Kansas City and Phoenix, because it took half an hour's fiddling to get it right. He should be sleeping, not roped into what's probably going to turn into another round of Strip Poker because half the time Amanda rigs the drawing. (Not that he has anything to be ashamed of when the shirts come off, but sometimes he thinks of all the times he's promised his mother that he isn't going to any wild parties and cringes, because Strip Poker is not on her list of approved party activities. Not even if the most licentious thing that's ever happened was that one time they left the blinds up and four different semis blasted approval of Greta's black bra.)
But the performers come off a show high as kites on adrenaline, too wound up to sleep or even to keep it down enough to let other people sleep, and anyway like hell is he going to be outlasted by a bunch of androgynous teenagers, even if they can keep going all night.
Brendon pulls a slip of paper out of the hat. "And the name of the game is--"
Spencer starts a drumroll on top of Chris's head.
"Smile for Me."
Half the room groans, but Jake's mostly just glad Amanda didn't get to the papers this time. He doesn't know this one, but it has to be better than yet another night of Brendon pretending to pay attention to breasts.
"What is it?" the Hushies' guitar tech, Tilda, demands.
Spencer smiles at her. "Brendon got it from his cousins," he explains. "One person is 'it.' He has to find somebody he can make smile. If he chooses a victim and the victim can manage to say 'Baby, I love you but I just can't smile,' he has to give up and move onto somebody else. No tickling, but faces are allowed."
Jake leans down and whispers in Dusty's ear. "Why is everybody groaning?"
"Brendon always winds up in the middle," she whispers back. "He can't keep a straight face." Jake slaps his forehead in mock dismay, and Dusty grins at him.
She's right. Greta loses Eenie Meenie Miney Mo, and-being as smart as she is pretty-she goes for the obvious weakling in the herd. She starts toward the other end of the bus, but stops and tosses a look back over her shoulder, all mischief and a silly nose scrunch. "Brendon," she says, daring him with her voice, her eyes. "Smile for me."
Brendon's pretty obviously aware of his losing streak. His lips are pursed against any signs of humour. "Baby," he says, low, laughter already rumbling beneath the surface of his voice, "I love you, but I just can't-" suddenly Greta sticks out her tongue at him, and he gives in with a shout of laughter.
He gets up and bows his defeat, still giggling, and she collapses across Amanda and Katie Kay, grinning up at him. "No tag-backs, Brendon."
"What am I, in kindergarten? I know that."
Brendon turns slowly, looking over each of his potential victims with a measuring eye. Jake makes sure to give him his very best unimpressed look. Brendon looks intrigued by the challenge for a minute, but he seems to decide to save his best efforts for later.
Finally his eye lands on Tilda. Tilda's small and compactly built; her beauty's in the way her fingers move over a guitar string and the grin on her face when she turns it up to the sky, sweaty with sun and heaving heavy equipment. Jake's maybe given her beauty a lot of thought.
Brendon walks over to her and drops to the cushion beside her. "Tilda," he says, his voice low, intimate in the wash of the crowd's breathing.
"Yes, Brendon?" she replies, turning away from him and biting her lip, obviously trying not to giggle. Brendon walks his fingers up her arm, and catches the underside of her chin, turning her face up to his.
"Smile for me," he says, and breaks out the big grin that makes the fangirls' panties evaporate, delight and triumph beaming all over his face.
Jake doesn't blame her when she can't help but smile back.
The nice thing about Brendon's turns-even if there are a lot of them, because anybody who wants an easy out just makes a face at him-is that they don't last long; Brendon has a lot of practice being adorable at people.
It's more fun than Jake expected; after the first few lame attempts, the running jokes build up. Don the lighting guy likes to get down on one knee and serenade you with filthy words set to childrens' songs--oh my girlfriend's going down, going down, going down--and Zack is Jon's victim of choice, every time. It's gotten so that when Mira lets her hair down from its clip in a swoosh, she doesn't even have to do the sexy pout-everybody knows it's coming, and the whole crowd is awhoop with laughter while the poor victim tries to keep it together.
If Brendon's the easiest nut to crack, Ryan's the toughest-he hasn't had a turn yet, and they've been playing almost an hour. Every new round starts with an attack on Ryan's Fortress of Calm-partly because nobody's done it yet, and partly because everybody knows Ryan hates to lose. It's like the Ultimate Challenge. "I refuse," Bob announces loudly, stepping in to the ring after he went down like a ton of bricks in the face of Spencer's James Bond impression, "to let this game end without somebody taking Ryan down."
"Bring it," Ryan says, smug running through his voice, although not a shadow of a smirk is showing on his face. "I've got all night."
Ryan lets Bob try for almost ten minutes before telling him he loves him but he just can't smile, and Bob sighs with theatrical despair and goes to rub his head against Brian like a cat instead.
Maybe Ryan has all night, but the rest of them are winding down; Chris and Darren are curled together in a corner like puppies, and Katie Kay has to stop mid-giggle to yawn.
"Okay, okay,"Zack says finally, setting his beer down after Brendon cracks for Dusty's wide-eyed plea that her children were starving for the sight of a beautiful grin. "Ryan is Lord High Robot, Brendon gets last place for giggling before Tim even said anything, and some of us have to work tomorrow."
"You have no idea how honored I am," Ryan deadpans, and the crowd crack up and starts climbing to their feet. Most of them head off, although a few stick around to help clear up the empty bottles scattered around the room.
Ryan collapses backward with a groan. "Honored, maybe, but tired, definitely. Somebody help me up so I can stumble to bed." Brendon and Spencer stick out their hands and haul him to his feet. He flops against Brendon, and Brendon squeezes Ryan's ass. Ryan smiles for the first time all night, and Jake catches Spencer winking at Jon across the room as he slides a hand to join Brendon's.
Jake doesn't know how they fool anybody, honestly.
He rolls his eyes and catches Tilda looking at Brendon with surprise on her face. Surprise and maybe...disappointment? Oh. Huh. Maybe they do fool some people. Although clearly not for long.
Jake is down with being a rebound guy, though, and he goes over and offers to take the trash bag she's holding to the venue dumpster.
He stops on the way out the door to look back and grin at her-maybe he's no Brendon Urie, but he's been told he's got a pretty good smile, for all that.
She smiles back.