Chapter Text
The parking lot looks like every other parking lot Jon has seen: lots of concrete, rubber marks stretching curves over the pavement and shards of glass scattered over painted lines. The building bordering the parking lot at the farthest end is covered in graffiti, the weeds growing in the cracks between foundation and pavement running up to it, stretching towards the sky as if wanting to cover the wall in butter-yellow flowers and sharp leaves. Jon steps out of the idling car into the heat outside and it feels like coming home.
"Jon!"
Jon jumps as his brother calls his name and turns around, raising an eyebrow at him. "Mike?" he says and reaches for his things, putting them on the ground.
Mike looks at him, then at the parking lot, lips a thin line and eyebrows stuck in that 'I'm your big brother and I know better' expression. "You're sure they'll pick you up here?"
Jon nearly rolls his eyes but catches it in time - Mike wouldn't take it well and it's enough to have the whole dropping out of college between him and his family right now. "Yeah," he says instead, carefully modulating his tone into something that only a Scrooge could take exception to. Jon's had a lot of practice at that lately. He nods towards the few posters slapped up on the colorful wall of the venue. "They're on tonight."
"You know mom and dad will always welcome you home, right?" Mike says, and his eyebrows are back up in the big brother position. Jon can almost hear the words, despite the fact Mike isn't saying them. Go back to college, get a degree, marry Cassie, become an average Joe.
"I know," Jon says instead and picks up his camera bag so he can heft it onto his shoulder. The tour manager - whoever it is these days - has called ahead, Tom said. He can stash his stuff, then head out and take some pictures. It's been a while since he was here last, since... Jon cuts off the thought and turns his attention back to Mike. "I'll see you in a couple of weeks," he offers.
Mike scowls for a second, then shakes his head and smiles. This time it's genuine, if drawn. "Have a safe trip," he says and Jon nods with a smile, watching as Mike pulls out and disappear into traffic.
"Come out with us," Tom said last week when he caught Jon during his shift at Starbucks. "We need a tech and I know you don't like college. Why stay when you have a choice?" Jon didn't have an answer then and he doesn't have one know, which is why he is standing on a parking lot with a shitload of bags, eschewing college and his family's respect for a life on the road, for a life of music. Then again, there hadn't been a question of what he would do, and his family and Cassie had seen it too the moment he told them of Tom's offer.
Jon takes a deep breath and heads for the venue. Tom and the others are due to arrive in two hours or maybe a little more.
He might as well do something fun while he waits.
***
Working with a crew of techs turn out to be fast-paced, weird and a very good workout, Jon discovers. It's wholly unlike being in one of the bands and the profession draws all kinds of personalities, which together makes a tight-knit group of people that has to learn how to deal with anything or get out. Jon has been called peculiar every now and then with his love for flip-flops and too small shirts, but he fits right in on tour and that's something Jon missed when he dressed in jeans and button-ups and real shoes.
The first few days, Jon scurries from trailer to stage, to green room to bus; learning where 'his' band fit into the pecking order - what he might demand, what he might beg for. It keeps his mind alive in a way it wasn't in the corridors of the university; it challenges him and his ability to get along with people until he wakes up one day and find himself looking forward to see if trading a case of beer for that replacement string he needs will get him a smile along with the string from the grumpy tech of the second openers. Jon makes friends outside of the band and he's breathing again like he hasn't for months.
The best thing about being on the road with TAI, beyond the music, is that Jon gets to see Tom every day. It's been a long time since Jon has been able to do that and the feeling of actually sitting down to talk or heading out to take pictures with him - it makes Jon realize how much he had missed Tom, had missed their friendship. Talking on the phone isn't the same as talking in person and... Yeah. If there's something Jon regrets it's giving in to his parents' demands when he knew he could never live without music.
***
Jon doesn't have that much to do with the other bands - his work keeps him mostly with the techs and TAI and with no time to make friends with people he rushes past two times a day at most. Oh, he knows them by sight if not by name, but if someone asked him to sort them by band? He'd maybe manage the ones he'd heard of before. The only other band that has his attention is the second Decaydance band, some newbie band from Las Vegas Jon has never heard of. They keep mostly to themselves and Panic! is the only band Jon isn't sure he can pick out in a line up. Then things change one evening after a show in an unexpected, but not unwelcome, way.
Jon is sipping on a beer, watching Bill trounce Butcher on the Playstation when his cell, put on vibrate for the show, starts up a little dance on the kitchen table. Startled, Jon throws out a hand in the general direction of the noise and manages to catch the cell before it jiggles its way to the floor. For a second, he juggles the beer and the phone and the way he's slipping off of the couch before Mike takes care of the beer and smirks, ignoring Jon's glare as he push himself back up on the couch and thumbs open the phone.
"Hello?" The caller ID says Tom; Jon shouts into the phone, trying to be heard over the noise from the TV. He hears nothing on the other side of the phone and Jon hopes something hasn't happened again. The last time he got a phone call from Tom he'd been caught up in a brawl and yeah. Jon really didn't want to head down to the police station again. "Tom?" Jon tries again.
It's silent for a few more seconds, then someone clears their throat and Jon breathes again. "No, no it's... It's Brendon. From Panic! at the Disco?"
Which. Jon blinks and glances at the screen. It still says 'Tom' but it really doesn't make any sense. Tom is with Panic! at the Disco? "Why do you have Tom's phone?" he asks, trying not to sound too accusing.
"Um," Brendon says, and he sounds even more hesitant than before and Jon reigns in the way he really wants to snap at Brendon until he tells him what the hell is going on, because he suspects Brendon might just disconnect the call. "We might have found him? Like stumbling around the parking lot? Spencer thinks - that is we think - he might have forgotten where your bus is parked?"
And yeah, that's Tom all right. He swears, which catches Mike's attention. Jon waves it away, biting his lip hard. Tom drunk stupid is problem enough without involving the rest of them. "I'll be over in five," he tells Brendon, and tries to remember where he put his flip-flops.
"Right." Brendon sounds a little choked and something rattles behind him - a van door? - followed by a snatch of singing that Jon could have recognized asleep. "You know our van?" Brendon asks.
Jon rolls his eyes. Newbies, he thinks and gestures to Mike that he's heading out. "I know your techs," he replies, "so yes."
"Oh." Brendon sounds like that is news to him and Jon feels a stab of guilt. He was a newbie once too - admittedly it was long ago, but he was one. "You're a tech. I thought you were in a band."
"No, I tech guitars for TAI." Jon gives up on his flip-flops and heads for the door. He won't die from walking barefoot. From stepping on glass and getting rabies maybe, but that's another thing. "Jon Walker."
"I see." Brendon sounds like he wants to ask something else and Jon holds his breath, squinting across the lot as he waits. He thinks they parked at the other side of the lot, towards the general store. "I'll see you soon?" Brendon says vaguely and Jon hums before clicking off the phone and heading off, toes curling against the ground as he walks. It might be a little colder to walk barefoot than he expected it to be.
Jon shoves his hands into his pockets as he walks. Tom said he would get back later when he left, but if he got this drunk this fast? Jon doesn't know what to think. Tom should be able to find their bus even while inebriated after this long and he knows better than most that if there's one thing you really don't want to do, it's be left behind. The buses aren't leaving for another hour, but still. Mike got left behind by accident at a refuel stop a few days ago, and that had been bad enough. Leaving Tom behind at a venue? Jon closes his eyes.
The van is parked where Jon remembers it and when he turns the corner of the bus closest to it, he can see the purple nose sticking out from the other side. One of the Panic! kids - the one with the red glasses and the lavender hoodie - is crouching beside the van, scrunching his nose and shivering as he does something to a pair of expensive-looking shoes with a sharpie.
Jon walks up to him, curious about what he's doing. As he gets closer, he can see little hearts and stars covering the formerly pristine leather, punctuated by a rainbow over the toes. Jon laughs a little and the guy's head snaps up. "You came!" the guy says and Jon pinpoints him as Brendon - that voice really is unique in a very good way. By now, Jon's heard Panic! perform plenty of times and there's something really great about Brendon's voice as he sings.
Brendon stares at Jon for a second, then his expression changes and he scrunches his nose again. "Oh sorry!" he says, bouncing to his feet in a movie Jon could swear defied gravity. "You don't look like I thought you would. Our techs are all..." His forehead creases as he trails off and Jon can't help but laugh again, hooking his hands into his pockets.
"Tattooed?" he suggests and wiggles his toes as he catches Brendon looking at his toes.
"Yeah," Brendon replies, but he's really not thinking about that anymore, eyes flying between Jon's toes and Jon's face until Jon wants to ruffle his hair and laugh himself stupid. "Aren't you cold?" he says with huge eyes and an expression on his face that looks like it inspired the word 'earnest'.
"Not really," Jon tells him - it's not like it's a complete lie anyway - then sighs and straightens up. "I guess we should go find Tom?"
Brendon makes a double-take and his shoulders hunch a little, his eyes flickering towards the back of the van for a second before returning to him. The sparkle in his eye is gone and Jon kind of want to put it back. But this isn't his band and Tom needs him, so Jon just waits.
"Sorry," Brendon says and kind of shuffles backwards. He leaves the shoes where they are, moving past the van and towards their trailer that's standing in the lit part of the lot. Jon follows him, remaining quiet and not really knowing what to say anyway.
There's a little group waiting for them on the other side of the trailer, sitting on the concrete, leaning against the trailer side and, in Tom's case, half-sleeping and occasionally talking to himself. There's a blue-eyed kid and a skinny kid - the latter sitting as far from Tom as he can, pale and flinching every time Tom moves. The blue-eyed kid has an arm around his shoulders and is glaring at Tom, as if he's even aware of them. Jon closes his eyes for a second and put a little notch in front of the rumor that Panic! has alcohol issues. He'll have to keep an eye on Tom so he doesn't rib them too much.
Ignoring the Panics for a moment, Jon leans down and checks on Tom, flinching as the sweet scent of alcohol nearly punches him out. Tom hasn't exactly been careful with the drinking, that much is obvious. He crouches down and turns his head towards the other Panics, keeping himself between them and Tom. Whether it's to protect Tom from the blue-eyed kid's glaring or them from Tom's drunken stupor, Jon doesn't know.
"Sorry for him bothering you," Jon says, keeping his voice low as to not to startle them. The Panics look back, not really seeing him Jon thinks, except for Brendon, who bounces a little anxiously behind the other two, that stretched expression still on his face.
"No worries?" Brendon says, biting on his lip and roll over onto his heels. "It was nice to meet you."
Brendon seems to actually mean it too - at least a little - and Jon smiles, waving away a gnat from his face. "Good to meet you too, Brendon Urie," he says, then looks at the others, guessing at their names. "Um, Ryan Ross? And Brent Wilson?"
"Spencer Smith," the blue-eyed one corrects, eyes narrowing a little (but not in anger, Jon thinks). "Brent's not here right now."
Jon nods and smiles. "Well, it's nice to meet you too." He glances at Tom and sighs a little before hefting an arm around Tom and bringing him to his feet. Tom seems to wake up a little at that, at least enough that Jon thinks he'll manage to get him back to the TAI bus without help. He looks at the Panics a last time. "I guess I'll get Tom back to the bus now."
Spencer moves at that, almost rising and eyes snapping to Jon. "Need any help?" he says and moves before Jon even has the chance to answer.
Jon smiles and shakes his head – Ryan seems like he could need more help than Tom does right now. "Nah. I'm used to this." He hefts Tom higher and waves a little at them with his free hand. Ryan's mouth kind of twitches at that, which makes Spencer look at him with a strange look on his face. Jon doesn't really stay around to watch the rest of it though, maneuvering Tom towards the bus. And while Panic! will most likely get used to it sooner or later (probably sooner with the bands they're touring with), Jon decides to put in a word with TAI not to drag the Panics into their drunken escapades. They seem pretty nice after all.
***
Jon doesn't really run into them after that, nor does he ever meet the fourth Panic!. He sees them all before shows and such, but they don't really talk. Jon does, however, mention that it might be polite not to bother them while thoroughly intoxicated - that is, most nights when they can sleep in the day after.
The short tour ends and the next begins. Jon lets himself be swept away by the oddness that is touring and by the time he returns to Chicago for a few days, he feels like touring is his natural state and being home with his parents and Cassie is the equivalent of falling into another world. Listening to his family talk jobs and Cassie talk school, Jon sits on his hands and tries to listen through the want to return to the road. He knows it will fade, but it will take time; and this time around, Jon doesn't have it.
The last night in town, Jon runs into Pete while out with the band at one of the usual Decaydance hang-outs. It's a bar, of course, filled with people and loud music. Bill and the others have appropriated the better part of a corner in one of the smaller areas, but Jon hasn't joined them so far, which is why Pete sees him the moment he comes in, face lighting up and that horse grin of his intensifying as he shoves his way over to Jon by the bar.
"JWalk!" Pete greets him, holding up his hand for a high-five. Jon slaps it, grinning back. Meeting Pete is like being back on the road, kind of, with his presence and the memories he brings with him of touring, singing, playing and living the music in the way only people who's thrown their belongings into a bag and headed out with a band to live from day to day on their music can. "Been a while," he says, and yeah, Jon remembers. He hasn't actually seen Pete in person since he was part of 5o4Plan.
"A few months," Jon agrees and thinks back. "I think it was that gig down..."
"Yeah, yeah," Pete interrupts, cocking his head and nodding and Jon knows he remembers as well as Jon does. "You and Patrick talked shop."
Jon's mouth quirks a little. "Good times," he offers, taking a step to the side as someone pushes by him. Pete follows him and they glide into a secluded corner between bar and wall. "Shouldn't you be on tour?" Jon asks, turning his back to the chaos. "I thought you had that thing back on the coast."
Pete scratches the back of his neck and rolls his eyes. "Nah. There's a few days off and I have this thing I want to talk to Butcher about, so I thought I'd drop by." He peers up at Jon through his lashes, even though he doesn't really have to. Pete's like that, and Jon accordingly rolls slightly on his toes. "Think you have the time?"
Anyone's that has known Pete for some time can hear the genuine question in that and Jon, as always, swears internally at what put it there and hooks an arm around his shoulder, steering him towards the TAI corner. It's past time he returns to them anyway. "We always have the time for the Great Pete Wentz," he says, nodding and trying to look suitably solemn.
"The Great Bass Nemesis has spoken,"Pete intones in turn, then slaps Jon's back and grins. "Joined another band yet?"
Pete was genuinely sad when 5o4Plan broke up, Jon knows, and Jon is the last former member that doesn't really have anything going on. "Haven't found a good one yet," he says and doesn't mention the months he didn't even have music.
"We'll find you one," Pete promises, then catches sight of the band. "Race you there?"
He's off before Jon has the chance to answer and Jon shakes his head a little, still smiling vaguely. Knowing better than to chase someone in flip-flops, Jon ambles after him at his own speed. They're going to the same place after all; he will catch up.
***
The days off go by quickly and soon Jon is on the road again. TAI seems to have a decent following even when traveling with more famous bands, which Jon realizes as they slowly make their way through the country. He can't help but mingle with the crowds as they queue outside the venues, taking photos and chatting as he goes, trying to take in the differences between here and there. So yeah, musically, TAI is doing fine, but intraband? Things are a lot rockier.
They have been on the road for just a few days the afternoon Jon finds himself lurking in the bunks with Tom. Butcher and Sisky have shut themselves into the back with the other techs playing poker or something, while Bill rips Mike a new one over something or another he perceived Mike let Sisky do that management cracked down on. Hiding in the bunks is becoming more and more common these days, Jon admits to himself. He stares at the bunk above him as he sips on the beer he liberated from Bill's stash.
Tom snagged his guitar on the way back here and sits in the narrow passageway, legs slung over Jon's in his bottom bunk and playing something that sounds like the bastard child between an old 5o4Plan song and Dixie Chicks. Not that Jon listens to Dixie Chicks, but anyway. He isn't sure where Tom is going with it, but it actually sounds kind of cheery and when Tom starts over for the third time, Jon starts keeping the beat with his foot, humming a little as Tom embellish a little to fit his voice.
The bus shudders as it hits a rough patch and Jon loses the beat when Tom's fingers hesitate. Before Tom has the chance to find the melody again, the door to the front lounge opens and Bill storms through, a thundercloud for a face. Not that Jon is that surprised - arguing with Mike, in his experience, is like arguing with a chunk of wood. When he sees the beer Jon sips at, he grits his teeth with such force the muscles in his cheeks spasm.
"Enjoy that," Bill says in a choked voice. "Because I doubt anything even vaguely inhibiting will be left in our sight for the next twenty years because someone--" His volume rises dramatically. "--can't remember that our bassist is underage and shouldn't be caught doing stuff that can get us all arrested!"
Jon puts down the beer and sits up, shaking his head at Tom as he opens his mouth to say something, because, yeah, talking to Bill when he's like this? Is something Tom really shouldn't be doing. But Tom ignores him and Jon closes his eyes and flops back. Well, fuck that. If he doesn't listen...
"Calm down," Tom just says, and Jon can see the wide-eyed, innocent look on his face that he perfected when he was ten and wanted more cookies from his grandmother. Which Bill knows as well as Jon does. "It's only a week or so, they'll..."
There's a sharp silence and Jon just knows Bill is glaring at Tom. "Oh yeah?" Bill finally says and yeah, there's that tone of bitten back fury Jon didn't want. "And how will you, Mr. Drinking-myself-stupid-before-going-on-stage, deal?"
Jon sighs and opens his eyes again, kicking Bill in the leg and frowning up at him. Bill looks down and flinches a little as he catches Jon's eyes, then turns and walks back into the front lounge without another word. Jon looks at Tom and he's blank-faced, brows knitted and his hands clenched around the neck of the guitar.
"Fuck," Jon says to himself, then kicks at Tom just for good measure. He didn't sign up to become Tom's mediator, really.
Tom doesn't say anything, just rolls into his own bunk and closes the drapes. Jon presses his lips together then flops down again. Most of the time he loves touring with his best friend, but sometimes? Yeah, it pretty much sucks.
***
When Christmas approaches and their booked dates dwindle, Jon finds himself wondering what to do with himself for the holidays. Sure, he will be home for Christmas Day (if he isn't, his mom will kill him) but he also knows that staying any longer would drive him crazy with the well-meaning advice that he should stop tagging along with 'bands that won't go anywhere' and get a 'real job'. Most of his friends will be with their families - Cassie included, even if he will see her the day before Christmas. Even Tom has familial duties he can't wiggle his way out of this year, as he put it, sipping on a beer and a grimace on his face.
"You're the only one that was actually home last Christmas," Tom says, flopping down on his back and staring at the top of his bunk. The beer in his hand jiggles with the thrumming of the bus and Jon snatches it before it jiggles itself out of Tom's hand and onto the floor. Tom might just be a tiny bit drunk. "You can get away with only being home for one day. Me, I have to sit with Dad's Aunt Philippa and listen to her telling the story of How She Immigrated To America."
"Such a challenge," Jon says and finishes off Tom's beer. He can just picture Tom's face really, sitting next to an elderly lady and trying to look like he's listening while he wishes he's somewhere else. After the tour they've had, Jon can't help but feeling he's kind of earned it.
"I know," Tom says and closes his eyes. For a moment, Jon thinks he's dropped off, then he starts talking again. "You could always get a job. Jack - you know him, right? - keeps blabbering about the opportunities in the photography business over Christmas."
Jon blinks. "That actually sounds fun," he slowly says, then reaches for his cellphone. There's a few dudes from college he can call and there is that judge from the photography competition back last year that said he could call if he was interested in some extra work...
And that is how Jon ends up working for a newspaper over Christmas shooting crowds and social stuff all over town. It's strangely freeing working while everyone else is celebrating - Jon can take his time taking pictures, not worrying about being in someone's way, can see things he never has before as he isn't part of what it is going on. He's an outsider and he's taking pictures from an outsider's PoV. It sets his heart thumping in a way photography hasn't done since it became his job and lost that something that made Jon fall in love with it in the first place. When he heads home for the day, Jon has taken enough pictures that he signs up for a Flickr account in lieu of emailing pictures to people and when he returns to work, he finds that he's already gaining a following beyond family and friends. Jon blames the fact the newspaper had gleefully added it to his credit.
"Dude," Tom tells him the next time they see each other, grinning at Jon in a way that makes him feel vaguely alarmed. "You're getting internet famous."
Jon chuckles a little and ignores the way Tom is looking at him oddly. "Nah, it's just temporary. It's not like I want to be famous anyway." At least not for fluffy society pieces.
"Just keep telling yourself that," Tom says and waggles his eyebrows before changing the subject, to Jon's relief. While it feels nice that he can sell his pictures - well, being famous for them isn't quite in his plans for the future.
***
With Christmas over and the tour on again, it's time to head off to Europe, and this time, Jon finds out when he takes a moment to check out the schedule and other pertinent information, they're touring with Panic!. And what's more: TAI is sharing a bus with them. Jon can't help but think that will be a disaster if Panic!'s as skittish as they were before and he's actually kind of grateful that he's on a tech bus (and tiny, teeny opening band bus) this time around. It doesn't mean he's not feeling guilty for leaving Panic! to deal with TAI on their own as he haggles his way into a bottom bunk and dumps his stuff before beginning to work. But if Panic! hasn't found their backbone yet, maybe it's time they do.
If someone asks Jon, he will have to admit that his memories of Panic! are kind of fuzzy by now. Oh, he remembers their skittishness, their youth but not their faces or even their general looks. He knows in an abstract kind of way that they're becoming more and more famous, but their music isn't his music, so he doesn't overly care.
The first night in the UK, finishing with preparations early, Jon grabs his camera from the bus and heads out into the crowds before Panic!'s performance. He slips out a side door, nods to security and sidles into the crowds. The constant movement of the people surrounding him easily shoves him forwards and Jon lets himself be carried forwards, only applying his elbows and slipping out as he reaches the drink vendor. Five minutes and two coins later, he has a bottle of water in his hand and leans against the wall next to the vendor, sipping at the water and watching the crowds.
No one really pays any attention to him and it's actually kind of nice. He likes people watching and this? This is premium people watching. Girls, boys, women and men; natives and people from neighbouring countries divided into TAI fans, Panic! fans, Decaydance fans. There's a lot of the Panic! ones actually, more than he maybe expected, wearing most homemade t-shirts and clutching at bags containing official ones as if they fear they will be snatched away.
Curious, Jon sidles up to a group of mostly women his age wearing some of the better attempts at band t-shirts. "Hi," he says and smiles as they throw him surprised looks. "Saw your t-shirts - I'm just wondering if you're fans of Panic? I didn't know they were that known overseas."
One of them nods, her short hair bobbing. "Yes, you're from the US, right?" Jon nods and she continues. "They were featured on one of our music shows back in December, I think?" She glances at her friends and they nod, another picking up the thread.
"Yeah, with a singer we really like." She mentions a name Jon doesn't recognize. "We've been fans since. I think most of us fans here discovered them then." And there certainly seems to be a lot of them, Jon thinks, shifting a little.
The first woman cocks her head at him, her eyes sharpening. "You're with the band?" she asks, probably spotting the backstage pass Jon shoved down a pocket before heading out. Jon knows better than to say he's a tech, so he just holds up his camera.
"Photographer," he says, relieved when they nod; he asks for permission to take a picture while at it.
They titter a little but readily agree and when Jon makes moves to go away, one of them touches his arm briefly. "Do you have anywhere we can see the pictures online?" she asks, looking at him through her lashes.
Jon shrugs. "Sure," he says and scribbles down his Flickr URL before waving goodbye and heading inside again to grab a good place before the crowds enter.
By the time Panic! comes on to play, Jon is only one of many in front of the scene, leaning against the barrier with weight on his back against his side as people press against him and scream, greeting Panic! as they turn towards the crowd. Jon snaps a picture of Brendon as he steps up to the mike, following it up with one of Ryan as he plugs in the guitar, of Brent as he flashes a grin at the crowd, of Spencer as he tips his head backwards and laugh at something his tech says. He presses backwards, letting people swarm in from the sides and takes a few more pictures through a sea of arms, letting the scene blur into becoming the background to mobile phones, hands and wrist bands. Then Jon lowers the camera and just listens.
Panic's music is guitars, quick quick lyrics mixing with drawn out, almost playful snatches of melodies that turn vengeful halfway through and blur into something menacing but fascinating. There are places in which Brendon's voice doesn't quite manage, moments the bass is a little off the beat, times when the words doesn't quite match the melody, but there's something in there that makes Jon's heart thump and his throat sick with the pull to sing along. And the crowd agrees with him, singing along loudly enough that Brendon is laughing and joking into the mike that maybe they should take over.
Jon stops listening and edges towards the barrier again, something close to foreknowledge settling like a heavy weight in his stomach. He signals for security to get him over the barricade, showing his backstage pass so he can slip away unnoticed into the back and to his work.
"Any good photos?" Tom asks as Jon sneaks into the green room to deposit the camera with Tom's things while he works. Tom's on the couch, leaning back and relaxing with a beer at his elbow and his iPod in his lap, not plugged in. His speech doesn't sound slurred and Jon's grateful, because if what he saw out there... Jon wrenches the thought off its track and into the back of his mind. "I saw you heading out."
"I'm not sure," Jon says instead and knits his eyebrows. He can still hear the thump thump thump of their melody in his bones. "The music isn't bad, but their performance is a little... Yeah."
"The eternal problem," Tom agrees and eyes Jon's camera with pursed lips. "Steal the bathroom on Monday?"
Jon calculates the rolls of film he has used and: "Yeah. I'm starting to get behind and...I think I want those photos developed."
"Mmm. They good then?" Now Tom starts to sound slurred and Jon closes his eyes. Then he casually reaches out for Tom's beer, chugging the rest himself. Tom glares a little, then shakes his head and sighs, slumping back. He isn't too far gone then.
"I guess," Jon replies and pitches the beer into the litter basket. "Not my type of music." But he still can't stop thinking about it, that strange feeling that their performance had settled in him. It made him never want to see them again - which was quite frankly silly - but true. Not surprisingly, that wasn't in the cards anyway, because the next day, Jon comes back from an equipment run and everything begins to change.
***
The stage is supposed to be empty; the fans long ago ushered out and the bands shipped off to their buses. Only the tech crew still scurries around backstage, cleaning and carrying stuff to the trailers. Or that's how it's supposed to be, but when Jon turns up to fetch the last amp, there's someone on stage and it isn't one of his fellow techs.
"Hello?" he says and peers into the shadows. Someone turned off the main lights while he carried out the last box and Jon didn't turn them on again, thinking he would only have to fetch and carry. The only things he can see are vague shadows and the glint of metal and Jon hopes it's someone who has permission to be in here, because security isn't anymore.
The shadow stirs towards the back of the scene, and for a moment Jon can see a dark shirt and pale skin before they turn into Panic!'s bassist. Jon exhales quietly and notices Brent has his bass around his neck - he really should have turned that back in by now. He frowns and steps out on the stage. "Are you all right?" Jon asks, because really, what reason can there be to hanging around a dark stage.
Brent shrugs, the movement somehow managing to be sullen, and doesn't look up from his hands on the bass. "Guess so," he says and his voice is dull like tarnished silver. "Are we going?"
Jon shrugs and puts on a smile, hoping he looks reassuring. "Not for a little while yet. We're still cleaning out."
"Oh." The bassist looks up and his eyes widen as he sees Jon. "You're TAI's tech," he says, blinking once and really. How that's a surprise, Jon doesn't know. "The...bassist."
"Yeah," Jon agrees and nods with a little smile that manages to be genuine. "Jon Walker, at your service. Tech and camera man extra-ordinaire."
"Brent," Brent replies and his voice is less dull as a smile edges its way onto his face, looking intently at Jon. It seems like Jon might not know Brent, but Brent seems to be quite aware of him. Jon shifts a little as Brent continues. "I watched you do one of those episodes once. It looked like fun."
"It is," Jon agrees and wiggles his toes a little, settling back on his heels, because shooting TAI TV is something he'll never tire of talking about. "You should try it. Panic!, I mean."
Brent looks away and that dull feeling is back. "Yeah, maybe," he says and hefts the bass over his head and settles it in the crook of his arm, leaning it on his leg. "I should probably turn this in to the techs."
Jon makes a quick calculation - Brent probably doesn't know where Panic!'s trailer is and the buses are leaving pretty soon. "Give me a second and I'll accompany you," Jon suggests and nods towards the last amp. "I'm going there anyway. You can help me make sure I don't stumble on anything."
Brent's eyes flicker to Jon's flip-flop-clad feet and smirk a little, the expression bringing life to his pale face. "With those shoes, I can see why you need it," he says, looking up at Jon through the lank strands of his dark hair, and Jon can't help but laugh.
"But I wouldn't give them up for the world," he replies and walks over to the amp, hefting it into his arms. Jon looks at Brent over the top of it and waggles his eyebrows. Brent stifles a smile and heads towards the edge of the stage, foregoing the steps to jump off the edge. Jon follows, edging down more carefully.
They walk silently through the corridors, Jon giving him directions every now and then to ensure they go the shortest way. Only when the chilly air of the outside hits them through the open door do they stop and Brent glances at Jon before looking away again. "Do you..." he begins, biting his lip. The expression on his face makes Jon flash back to Brendon for a moment before focusing on Brent.
"Do I...?" he prompts, shifting his grip a little.
Brent shakes his head and steps through the door. "Nothing," he says and looks around for Panic!'s trailer. Jon catches his eye and nods in the right direction. "Thanks," Brent offers, then walks off, turning his head once to look at Jon before continuing. Jon sighs and heads off in his own direction. Brent seems like a nice guy, if a little overwhelmed. It would probably ease as it usually did.
Catching sight of his fellow techs, Jon hurries his steps. If they get things packed within the next ten minutes, there will be time for a trip to the supermarket before heading off, and it's a long ride to the next stop.
***
Jon doesn't really see Brent again for the next day. Well, he sees him, just as he sees the other Panic! guys, but with the whole shooting TAI TV and actually teching, nothing really comes out of it. Not that he particularly cares, but. Brent looked like he wanted to talk to someone yesterday and he seemed to like Jon, so. Yeah, the possibility's definitely there and with Jon's gut is saying the same, he finds himself waiting for Brent to show up.
But Brent doesn't approach him and that Friday Jon finds himself sprawled in one of the seats across from the stage in some sort of passive protest against his gut being wrong. TAI has taken over the green room for some hijinks Jon bows out of without even thinking when he hears the Brent's bass vibrate from the scene, realizing it's Panic's turn to practice. He sneaks into the hall to hover in the shadows, watching as Brendon bobs around the stage, walking over to Ryan every now and then to talk things over while Spencer watches from the back of the scene, something like a frown on his face, and Brent stands to the side, looking like a deer in the headlights for some reason Jon can't fathom.
The music sounds good, Jon thinks, leaning back and looking at them. There's really no reason for Brent to look like he does. The bass line follows the melody and it's pretty decent sounding all in all. Then they ease into the 'we don't care about critics' song and Jon winces, echoed by Brendon on stage. Brent's falling off the beat, just a smidgen, and it makes their whole performance off. He waits for them to stop and recenter, but they don't and Jon frowns. It's an easily fixed problem - take out some of the embellishments and Brent will be on the beat again (they really should have done this already - live isn't the same as the studio). He leans forwards, peering at them, and it's almost like watching a car crash: Ryan keeps hunching himself deep over his guitar and Brendon looks like he will crawl out of his skin every time a note comes in the wrong place. The tension is coiling in the air and Jon wants to say something to break it, opens his mouth to do it.
Then Spencer beats him to it, stopping to play in the middle of the song and placing the sticks on the ground carefully, his fingers lingering before he sits up. "Break," Spencer says and there's enough stone in his voice Ryan just takes off his guitar and Brendon heads straight off the stage, hands clenched by his sides, Spencer following tight on his heels. Brent is left alone behind them, looking after them with a blank face and thinned lips, still holding the bass.
Jon heaves himself to his feet and moves without thinking further about it, shuffling towards the stage with enough noise Brent looks at him as he jumps onto the stage, a strange knit to his eyebrows.
"Interesting songs," Jon offers and hooks his thumbs into his belt. "I like the chorus."
Brent twitches and looks away. "They're good," he says and sounds like it has nothing to do with him. There's a problem there, but it isn't Jon's to solve, he knows it. But he can't help but continue talking, walking over to pick up Brent's secondary bass as he does.
"Who does the music?" Jon asks, idly trying out the melody snatches he remembers from the song and ignoring the way Brent looks at him. It makes his stomach clench anyway, so it's only self-protection.
"Ryan and partly Brendon," Brent says and moves closer, apparently giving up on glaring. He watches Jon's fingers as they slip over the strings and winces as Jon goes wrong on the melody. "Brendon plays like a billion instruments, so..." He shrugs.
"Seen him play a couple," Jon agrees, cocking his head as he tries out one of the trickier parts of the melody. "You seem to have a lot of intricate stuff in the songs though. I don't think I could do it on a regular basis." Jon plays through the snippet, notes out of place from time to time, then does it again, improvising on the parts he can't quite remember. "The sequence in the middle there is kind of tricky," he comments and looks up at Brent through his lashes.
Brent's looking at him, something odd in his eyes and his lip firmly between his teeth - a nervous habit probably. "It's just..." Brent steps in and touches Jon's hand firmly, nudging his fingers into place, Jon letting them stretch and bow on his touch. Jon plays through the snippet, and it doesn't actually sound half bad. Brent smiles and step back, pushing his hair back from where it hangs pretty constantly in his face. "It's pretty hard," he offers.
"I've noticed," Jon says, putting down the bass. He doesn't know when it was, but somewhere in between coming over and letting Brent guide him, Jon decides to help him. He narrows his eyes as he tries to figure out how to phrase it, how to not offend or sound too bossy. "Seems a little complicated for a live performance," he slowly says, watching Brent's face. He doesn't seem like he's taking offense, so Jon blunders on. "If your timing is a tiny bit off, the whole thing is off."
"Yeah." The corners of Brent's mouth stretch into something that's most definitely not a smile and he hunch his shoulders a little. "But it sounds wrong otherwise." Jon can hear arguments in his voice, hundreds of rehashings and no results. But he can also see Ryan coming out from the shadows, a flat look on his face but his shoulders slumped as if a weight has suddenly been lifted.
"Walker," Ryan says as he comes close enough and Brent jumps about three miles into the air, spinning around. He doesn't say anything though, as Ryan stares at Jon, a strange twinkle in his eye. "You're TAI's bass tech," he says. "Formerly of 5o4Plan."
"That's right." Jon leans back on his heels and hopes he's reading Ryan correct.
"You played our song," Ryan challenges, or says, Jon isn't quite sure, and from the look on Brent's face, he isn't either. Jon decides to go on his gut feeling again, even though it let him down about Brent. It's usually right after all.
"I did," he says and nods, smiling. "It's a nice song."
"You changed it." It's said in a complete monotone and most would probably think it threatening. But Jon can see Brent twitching behind Ryan, looking at him with such huge eyes Jon almost think they'll pop out as Ryan turns at him. "Can you play it like that?" he demands.
Brent swallows and his hands clench around the bass. He looks between Jon and Ryan. "Yes?" he says and his fingers twitch into place without thinking. "It's a variation - almost like the one..."
"The one you showed us last week," Ryan interrupts and Jon can see the twinkle in his eyes again, the way his shoulders slump a little further. He smiles to himself as Ryan continues. "Play it like that tonight."
And that's his work done. Jon grins to himself and sidles away without listening further to what they're saying, sits down in his seat just as Spencer and Brendon return to the stage. Ryan tells them something, probably about the change, then they return to their places. The rest of the practice, in Jon's opinion, goes much smoother, and Ryan's even smiling in places, letting Brendon bounce closer to him than he had before. Brent's grinning as well, sharing glances with Spencer, and when Jon leaves, they actually look like they're having fun.
The whole thing gets Jon thinking, however, even if he keeps it to himself. He's been hearing bits and pieces about Panic!'s situation and to be honest? They're probably a bit in over their heads. Jon has the impression the went more or less straight from garage to studio to gigs and doing it that way, they've missed out on a lot of the weathering bands do, figuring things out together. They're doing it now instead, doing it while playing shows and dealing with getting famous, and it's wearing on them. How they get over it - if they get over it - is what will make or break them and from what Jon has seen, he kind of hopes it will be the former.
***
The next day ends up being gloriously easy on the actual work Jon does for the tour. They get to the venue early, nothing goes wrong and Jon finds he even has the time to snatch Tom from the rest of the band and head out to fiddle with their cameras. The venue people tell them of a nice park not too far away and he and Tom end up spending most of the time before sound check taking silly pictures and competing over who can take the most pictures of the skittish park bunnies. It's nice, having the time to do something together, just the two of them, and when they head back to sound check Jon and Tom are both grinning.
They part ways as they arrive, Tom heading for his band while Jon steers his steps towards the stage to finish set things up. It goes blissfully easy and when Tom shows up early, grin on his face and bright-eyed, Jon has the time to pay him some attention for once. Waving his cellphone at Jon, Tom plants himself in front of him and stares down as Jon plugs in the last few cables. "Guess who called," Tom challenges.
Jon tilts his head back, grinning up at Tom. "Stevie Wonder?"
"Close but no potato," Tom says and walks over to his guitar, stuffing his phone down his pocket. "Nick."
"Nicky Scimeca?" Jon leans back to get a better look at Tom as he fiddles with the strap of his guitar. His hands still in his lap. "Damn. How is he?"
"You know, playing around with his computers." Tom strums the guitar randomly and looks at Jon with something in his face Jon hasn't seen in a while. "He's thinking of starting something with Pete."
"And Pete's always starting something," Jon summarizes and gets to his feet. They haven't heard from Nick in a while - he seemed a little down last time Jon saw him, but he certainly seems to be better now. "Do you think something will come out of it?"
Tom shrugs, but his eyes are still bright. "Probably," he says, then gives Jon a thoughtful look. "Grab Mike's guitar. I want to play something."
Jon weighs the possibility of Mike being pissed off (slim) against a jamming session (fun) for about two seconds, then heads over and slings the guitar around his neck and bares his teeth at Tom in a challenge. "You're on."
By the time the others arrive, Jon and Tom are serenading each other with sappy love songs to the tunes of Rammstein to the general amusement of anyone walking past and when he hands off the guitar to Mike, Jon is grinning broadly.
"Nice song," Mike tells him with a smirk.
Jon skims a bow and heads off to do his work as William and company take over the stage. He ignores the feeling of loss in the vicinity of his heart - at least he has music and the road again. That will just have to be enough.