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William has apparently already met Pete's new baby band and he's enamoured of the one named Ryan. Butcher finds himself entirely unsurprised when he meets them himself, crowded together in the first venue. Ryan is the one in the pinstripe pants and Butcher thinks he might have some sort of garter around his bicep. Oh yeah, he's not at all surprised that William likes him.
Butcher starts talking to the drummer, who is only eighteen, which Butcher might feel bad about, but then. Sisky. He tells Spencer all about the drums he wants. "The toms, man, they're made of maple so they really fucking, you know, resonate."
Spencer hums his agreement throughout Butcher's ramble and when Butcher tells him about the twine that winds around it, Spencer laughs, loud and bright. "Brendon would love that," he says, "Hey, Brendon. Get over here."
The singer wanders over, all patterned shirt and ugly tie. "What's up man, I'm Brendon," he says, sticking his sucker back in his mouth.
"Andy," Butcher says, holding out his hand to shake.
"Butcher was just telling me about his drums," Spencer interjects. "They've got twine that goes all the way around the edges, like the little drummer boy."
Brendon's eyes light up and he grins gleefully at Butcher. He takes his sucker out and waves it around. "Dude, that's awesome! Ba rum pum pum pum!" he sings. Butcher laughs.
*
William invites the whole band over to their bus, since they get their own bus this tour. They're headlining, after all. That's when Butcher finds out that William and Ryan are just not meant to be.
"He's tee-total, dude," William says in disbelief.
"You're star-crossed, that's for sure," Mike nods, seriously.
"He's in a band. Who gives up alcohol when they're in a band?"
"Andy Hurley?" Siska suggests and William snorts.
"And they're from Vegas," Tony points out. "Tee-total and Vegas should be, like, mutually exclusive."
William points at him. "Exactly what I'm saying."
"Um, hey."
Butcher looks up to see Brendon standing by the door with his bassist. They both look kind of nervous, so Butcher smiles at them.
"Brendon, my man," Mike says, sitting upright. "Come to join us?"
"Yeah," Brendon agrees, moving further into the bus.
"Sweet," Tom says, "Someone get these gentlemen a drink."
*
The next time Butcher sees Brendon, he's looking a little the worse for wear and Ryan is looking mildly thunderous.
"Hey guys," Butcher greets them and they mumble their responses.
"Brendon, did you want to come over later? I've found those parts we were talking about."
"Um, sure," Brendon says, glancing quickly at Ryan. "Are you busy now?"
Butcher shakes his head and Brendon follows him back to the bus. "How're things?" Butcher asks and Brendon groans.
"I have a fucking killer headache and Ross won't stop being grumpy at us. You'd think we shot his mother."
"Right. You're all his little bitches," Butcher agrees.
"Hey!" Brendon protests. "Brendon Urie is nobody's bitch!"
"It's okay," Butcher reassures him, "I'm not judging you, dude. Some people were just born bitches."
Brendon shoves him sideways. "I'll bitch you," Brendon mutters under his breath and Butcher laughs.
When they arrive at the bus, Jon is in the kitchen.
"Hey man," Butcher greets him and leads Brendon through to the bunks. He dumps a haphazard pile of papers onto Adam's bunk and starts rifling through them.
Tony sticks his head onto the bus. "Hey, Jon, man. There's a broken pedal out here, we need your magic fingers."
Jon groans, "I just want my fucking coffee," but he goes anyway.
"Magic fingers, huh?" Brendon asks.
"You bet," Butcher says distractedly, putting a stack of discarded papers to one side. "Jon gives awesome massages. You should get him to give you one some day."
"Uh huh," Brendon snickers, picking up the abandoned papers, "maybe once I've met the guy."
"Oh hey, did you do this?" Brendon asks, and Butcher looks up. Brendon's holding one of his sketches, Tom's face with an unfinished portion of Mike's in the bottom right corner.
"Yeah. I went to art school."
"Serious?" Brendon asks, looking at it again. "That's really awesome. Did you not fancy trying the starving artist thing?"
Butcher lets out a snort of laughter. "No way, man, I'm too greedy. I prefer to do the successful musician thing. It leaves me loads of time to do the art thing without starving." He finds the drum parts he was looking for and pulls them out of the pile triumphantly. "Ah ha!" he exclaims and spreads them on the bunk. "This is the bit I was talking about," he says, pointing. Brendon moves closer to look.
William comes out of the back lounge. "Yo Brendon, we gonna see you tonight?" he asks, squeezing past them.
"Not tonight, I don't think," Brendon says, pouting. "Tonight we're all going to stay in and suck up to Ryan."
William narrows his eyes and stomps off towards the kitchen, muttering about Vegas and tee-total. Butcher rolls his eyes at him, then leans over and whispers to Brendon, "You're totally his bitches."
*
Butcher doesn't stumble out of his bunk until late the next day.
"I'm fairly sure they're not even from Vegas," William is saying as Butcher grabs a mug of coffee.
"What's going on now?" Butcher asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Brendon," Tom fills in. "He's a virgin."
Butcher blinks. "Huh."
"I mean, what else is there in Vegas but hookers and drink?" William is complaining.
"Gambling," Butcher says promptly. "But maybe don't ask them about that."
Tom starts laughing. "I think William's head might explode if they don't do that either."
"They're not from Vegas, you guys! It's a façade!"
*
The following evening, Butcher takes Siska out for pizza (since Sisky insists he was going into withdrawal, dude, he was getting the pizza shivers) and when they get back to the bus, Brendon and Brent are there. Everyone is already tipsy. Butcher feels the need to catch up so he pours a sizeable glass of whiskey and grabs a beer as chaser.
He's sort of, not really, half-heartedly listening to Mike and Tom talk about guitar strings when Brendon collapses beside him. Brendon appears to be way past the tipsy phase of drunkenness.
"Butcher," he says seriously. Butcher regards him solemnly.
"Yes Brendon."
"I like your tattoos," Brendon says. Butcher blinks. It wasn't what he was expecting.
"I like your tattoos," Brendon repeats, "did you draw them yourself?"
Brendon is leaning in now, peering closely at the bird on Butcher's chest.
"Butcher," Brendon says again, still leaning, looking up through his eyelashes.
"Yes Brendon," Butcher says again and really, this kid is the cutest. His eyes are soft brown under his ugly-ass bangs.
"Will you draw my tattoos?" Brendon asks. "I really like your tattoos." He reaches out as if to touch Butcher's chest, but stops at the last moment. His eyes dart up and he frowns.
"Your beard is fucking ugly though, dude."
Butcher scowls. "Shut up," he says automatically and, "Your hair is fucking ugly."
"What?" says Brendon, outraged.
"It looks like a hemet," Butcher explains.
"It does not!"
"It really does, dude. With these little bits here." Butcher reaches out and tugs on the locks of hair which frame Brendon's face. It really is a hideous haircut.
"Shut up," Brendon commands. "I was going to be a cosmetologist. I can't have bad hair."
"Yeah, right," Butcher snorts. "Helmet head."
*
There's not often a lot to draw on tour, but Butcher is really in the mood today so he grabs some paper and a pencil and tries to find a spot. He ends up sitting just to the right of the stage where they'll play tonight, drawing his kit from the side and Sisky's bass. It's not the most interesting thing he's ever drawn but he finds the very boredom of it soothing. He's adding some shading on the kick when Brendon comes and sits beside him. Butcher tenses a little, because he's really not in the mood for talking, but Brendon doesn't say anything, he just sits there.
After a while, Butcher switches and starts drawing Brendon's profile in the corner of his page. Brendon's nose is straight and his lips are kind of insanely full, pink and plump. He keeps trying to sneak glances at the page though, so Butcher just adds a scribble of hair and turns the page so he can see it properly. Brendon looks down at it for a long moment then up at Butcher.
"That's awesome."
Butcher quirks his lips. He starts towards Brendon, hesitates, then leans in. Brendon keeps absolutely still. When Butcher presses their mouths together, Brendon immediately starts vibrating, jigging his leg up and down against Butcher's knee. Butcher waits for him to pull back but he doesn't. He just stays there, still except for that leg. Butcher raises his hand and winds it through Brendon's hair, the helmety bits by his ears. He tilts his head a little and opens his mouth. Brendon's still vibrating, but Butcher just presses slow, open-mouthed kisses against him, again and again, until Brendon hesitantly opens his mouth a little. Butcher kisses him for two long beats then pulls back.
Brendon looks kind of freaked, but he's not running, so Butcher counts it as a win. He smiles at Brendon and offers him the drawing.
"You can keep it if you want."
*
When Brendon arrives at their bus that night, Brent in tow, he immediately grabs a beer and sits down with William and Jon, to discuss Mary Kate vs. Ashley. Butcher figures he's playing hard to get. He laughs to himself and continues to whip Siska at Go Fish.
Half an hour later, Brendon still hasn't caught his eye, though every time Butcher looks over, he's looking very determinedly at someone who isn't Butcher. At the end of his next game, when Tony gets up and leaves a space next to Brendon, Butcher takes the opportunity to throw himself down in the empty seat. Brendon glances at him briefly, then down at his bottle. Butcher notices his knuckles tightened around his beer and mentally corrects 'playing hard to get' to 'pissing his pants.'
"What's going on, man?" Butcher asks, shifting to face Brendon a little more.
Brendon is still staring at his beer when he answers. "Nothing much." He looks up at Butcher again and gestures with his bottle to Jon. "Jon likes Jessica Simpson better than Ashlee."
Butcher nods seriously. "He's not all there, upstairs," he confides and Brendon cracks a smile.
"Hey, you want to get out of here?" Butcher hedges. Brendon's grip tightens on his bottle again. He leans in closer to Butcher.
"We can't go to mine," he says quietly. "The van is tiny."
"It's okay," Butcher tells him, just as quiet. "Let's just go back to the lounge."
Brendon stares at him, wide-eyed and panicked. Butcher laughs.
"Relax, man. I'm not going to steal your flower or anything."
"Fuck off," Brendon says, punching him in the arm, but he's laughing now, draining his beer and setting the bottle on the floor by the sofa.
They pick their way through all the bottles and packets of chips and people's legs. As they reach the bunks, Butcher takes a moment to aim a lazy kick at Siska, who's sprawled on the floor.
Butcher closes the door of the back lounge behind him and when he turns, Brendon is standing close behind him.
"Whoa," Butcher says, jolting back a little. Brendon steps in and kisses him. Butcher steps back so he's leaning against the door. Brendon grabs Butcher's biceps and slides his tongue out, tracing along the seam of Butcher's lips. Butcher opens his mouth hungrily and pushes back into Brendon's mouth. He fists one hand in Brendon's hair, just the right length and soft between Butcher's fingers, and wraps the other around Brendon's waist, pulling him in close. Brendon makes a sound, low and desperate, as their hips collide. Brendon's t-shirt is warm at his back and his hands are slightly clammy, clutching at Butcher's bare arms. Butcher slides his hand down to palm at Brendon's ass, pulling him in tighter, and is rewarded by another low moan.
Brendon is still enthusiastically and a little sloppily sucking on Butcher's tongue and his hands slide up to tangle in Butcher's hair, head tilted sharply to one side. The angle is awkward and their arms are tangled together uncomfortably but Butcher just manoeuvres his hand in between their bodies and cups Brendon's crotch.
Brendon gasps and pulls back immediately. Butcher drops his hands to his side and they stare at each other, panting in the silence.
"I'm sorry," Brendon says, "I'm sorry, we can, if you want, we can-"
"Brendon, dude, calm down. We don't have to do anything," Butcher assures him. He takes a small step forward, then another as Brendon watches nervously. Butcher cups Brendon face and brings their mouths together again. They kiss slowly this time, open-mouthed and warm, and Brendon relaxes into it. Butcher walks them backwards, arranging them on the couch so their legs are tangled together, Butcher braced above Brendon as they trade lazy kisses. Brendon pulls back a little.
"Don't you-" he starts, breath warm at Butcher's mouth.
"Just this," Butcher says and leans down again.
*
Butcher wakes up when Brendon jerks awake beside him. Bunks are just too small not to notice things like that. Butcher blinks a couple of times and looks at Brendon. Brendon is frowning a little and looking around him sleepily, half propped on one elbow.
"Hey," Butcher says and pushes himself up briefly for a kiss. He's too tired to be functionally awake.
"Hey," Brendon whispers. He starts pushing back the sheets. "I'd better get going or the guys will leave without me or something."
"Mm hmm," Butcher agrees sleepily. "I'll see you at the next stop then."
Brendon practically falls over himself climbing out of the bunk. At the last minute, he turns and presses a kiss to Butcher's lips. "See you," he whispers.
By the time Butcher wakes up again, the bus is moving. The next venue isn't far away and with a bit of luck, he'll have slept through most of the journey.
William and Tom are sitting at the table when Butcher stumbles out. He accepts a cup of coffee from Jon and slumps next to Tom.
"So," William says. Butcher stares at him. "So," William says again.
"You gonna finish that thought there?" Butcher finally asks as Jon sits opposite him.
"I saw Brendon stumble from your bunk this morning," William smirks, "looking at little rumpled, shall we say?"
"Definitely rumpled," Tom agrees. Butcher adds him to the list.
"What are you getting at?" Butcher asks, narrowing his eyes. William smirks some more but doesn't answer. Jon watches him, then turns to Butcher in all seriousness.
"I think what Bill is trying to ask is did you taste his sweet, luscious, perfectly ripe cherry?"
Tom bursts out laughing. William points at Jon, then at Butcher. "Yes," he says, "that is exactly what I meant. Is Brendon Urie without his flower?"
Butcher rolls his eyes. "In those bunks? I think everyone would know about it if that were the case."
"It's still not too late," Jon says earnestly. "We can arrange to have the bus cleared if you want."
"You guys are assholes," Butcher declares over Tom's renewed laughter. "I'm going to find Sisky."
*
Tom catches Butcher's arm as they're piling off the bus and pulls him to one side. "Hey," he says quietly, "The guys from hellogoodbye know a bar around here that they're dragging us all to. Just so, you know."
Butcher stares. "No?" he ventures.
"I'm just saying, man," Tom continues, looking around. "Tonight. The bus should be empty." He winks and grins wickedly. Butcher is part embarrassed, part weirdly touched. Tom grins again, punches him on the arm and ambles off. Butcher watches as he joins Mike. Mike says something to him and he replies. They both look back over their shoulders at Butcher and smirk. Right. Butcher hates them both.
Brendon comes and stands at the side of the stage just as they're wrapping up sound check. Butcher waits until the others have left, grinning at him and high-fiving Brendon. Brendon comes closer and hovers nervously by Butcher's kit. Jon is the only one left now, fiddling around with Mike's pedals.
"Hey," Brendon starts, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"What's up, man?" Butcher stands and leads Brendon back towards the dressing room.
"Have you heard? hellogoodbye are taking everyone to a bar tonight."
"Yeah, I heard," Butcher replies, looking around. He stops Brendon, hand on his forearm, and steps to the side of the corridor. "I was thinking about skipping it."
Brendon looks up at him, mouth twitching into a grin. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Butcher says. "You know, thought I might stay on the bus. Practise my yoga."
"Yoga, huh?" Brendon teases. "Well, uh, I don't know if I've told you this, but I'm actually pretty good at yoga."
"Really?" Butcher looks him up and down appraisingly. Brendon turns pink but keeps going.
"If you want some help, I'd be happy to stay behind with you."
Butcher breaks into a smile. He leans in and kisses Brendon. "Yeah," he says.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
*
They all pile out of the venue just after eleven and Forrest runs off in the direction of this bar of his. Butcher ignores the looks his band are sending him and focuses on Brendon instead. Brendon looks a little nervous but once the parking lot is cleared, he follows Butcher to the bus confidently enough. Butcher leads him through to the back lounge; the door slides open and-
"A blanket?" Brendon asks, quirking an eyebrow at Butcher. "Where are my candles?"
Butcher knocks him with his shoulder. "Shut the fuck up," he orders, "this is for me. You think I'm just going to ignore all the crap that gets spilt here?"
"Okay." Brendon nods and sits down carefully on the blanket, back against the couch. Butcher sits beside him, turned to face him slightly. Brendon licks his lips a little and Butcher leans in to kiss him. Brendon's lips are so soft and he hums against Butcher's mouth. He brings one hand up to hold Butcher's face and Butcher leans back, manoeuvring them both until Brendon is lying on top of him, He swipes his hands in broad strokes down Brendon's back, feeling the line of his spine through his t-shirt. His ass curves deliciously at the bottom. Brendon kisses him harder and Butcher thrusts his hips up, colliding with Brendon's. He starts pushing Brendon's t-shirt up his back.
"Off," he says against Brendon's lips. Brendon groans but he sits back and pulls his t-shirt over his head. Butcher struggles to do the same and then Brendon is back on top of him, mouth hot and wet against Butcher's, hips grinding down. Butcher grabs hold of Brendon's hips and pushes up against him again and again. He runs his hand around between their bodies and cups Brendon's crotch. This time, Brendon doesn't pull away, he just stops in place, slowing his kisses. Butcher is preparing for another freak out when Brendon starts up again, pushing slowly but deliberately into Butcher's hand. His cock is hard against the denim but the angle is seriously awkward as Butcher attempts to fumble with Brendon's zip. Brendon pulls back again to push his pants off himself and Butcher struggles to do the same with his shorts. He spreads his legs wide and Brendon settles back between then, thrusting once, twice until their cocks line up. Butcher groans at the sensation and pulls Brendon back down to kiss him.
Butcher is still kind of waiting for a freak out so he makes himself go slow. Virgin, he reminds himself and places one hand on Brendon's back, down where it starts to curve into his ass. Brendon seems to be fine with the situation though, if the enthusiasm he displays while humping Butcher into the floor is any indication. Butcher kisses him harder and tries to match his thrusts.
Brendon tears his mouth away from Butcher's and ducks his head down, panting in Butcher's ear. His thrusts grow more erratic and Butcher curves his hands around Brendon's hips and pushes him away.
"Wait, Brendon, wait," he says, panting. Brendon whines, a high pitched sound erupting from his throat. "Wait," Butcher says again. He reaches behind him and hands the condom to Brendon. "Put it on," he indicates towards Brendon's cock. Brendon looks a little astounded, but he fumbles with it anyway. Butcher covers his fingers in lube and reaches around himself, pushing one in. He's already added another by the time Brendon finishes. Brendon sits back on his heels, watching Butcher's actions closely, and Butcher has to close his eyes against the look of concentration on Brendon's face.
He feels Brendon's fingers graze against his upper thigh and opens his eyes again. Brendon's gaze is flicking between Butcher's face and his ass. He's biting his lip. "Can I?" he asks, gesturing and Butcher nods frantically.
"Yeah, man." Butcher scrambles to grab the lube and squirts a healthy amount onto Brendon's outstretched palm. Brendon slicks up his fingers and pushes one inside. Butcher's head thunks down on the rug and he flexes his hips a little.
"More, you can use another," he tells him and Brendon obeys. Brendon is slowly and carefully, too carefully, pushing his fingers into Butcher's ass. "Spread them," Butcher groans, "like scissors." Brendon does as he's told and Butcher writhes on the floor. He looks down at Brendon's face, at the look of fascination he sees there. Brendon uses his other hand to move Butcher's leg up, allowing him to see more clearly and Butcher tries to keep his leg there, he really does, but he'd like to get to the fucking now, if possible.
"Come here," he pants out. Brendon shuffles forward, his fingers stilling. Butcher slathers more lube onto Brendon's cock, more than he needs probably, but he wants Brendon's first time to go smoothly. "Come on," Butcher repeats, lying back and pulling his legs wider.
Brendon is wide-eyed but he pulls his fingers out of Butcher's ass and moves to lean over Butcher. He's bracing himself on one hand while the other guides the head of his dick against Butcher's hole. Butcher feels a pressure, not quite strong enough.
"Keep going, man, harder," he tells Brendon and Brendon nods anxiously. He presses in harder. Butcher focuses on relaxing and then there it is, the head of Brendon's cock is inside Butcher's ass.
"Uh," Brendon breathes out. He's sweating now, beads gathering on his forehead. Butcher lets go of one of his legs, threading his fingers through Brendon's hair instead. He runs that hand down Brendon's neck, across his collarbone. Brendon's sweat makes the glide easier. Brendon whines a little and keeps pushing in, ever so slowly.
"Butcher, you're so tight, oh God, so, Butcher, I'm gonna," Brendon babbles. Butcher threads his fingers through Brendon's hair.
"Hold on," he says, "hold on." Brendon nods frantically and keeps pushing until Butcher can feel Brendon's hips against his ass. Brendon takes several short, sharp breaths through his teeth. His muscles are all tense above Butcher.
"Relax," Butcher says, "just relax." Brendon nods again but doesn't show any sign of loosening up. Butcher can feel Brendon's entire length pressed up inside him. He reaches down and wraps a hand around his cock. Brendon exhales raggedly, eyes fixed on the movement of Butcher's hand. After a while, he makes a tentative thrust forward with his hips. Butcher groans, probably more than he would normally but hey, the kid's doing all right, Butcher wants to encourage him. Brendon goes again, gaining confidence and now Butcher's really starting to feel it, as Brendon's strokes get longer and longer. Butcher adds a twist to the movement of his hand and Brendon's pace stutters.
"Oh God, I'm gonna come, Butcher, I'm gonna come," Brendon grits out through his teeth. Butcher just strokes a thumb over the head of his cock and nods.
"Yeah, do it," he says and Brendon does, shuddering above him, hips jolting, breath coming ragged. Butcher speeds up his hand as Brendon starts to droop, focusing on Brendon's red lips, more swollen than usual, the sweat on his hairline, the way his eyes are half closed. Butcher comes with a groan.
Brendon pulls out gingerly, whimpering a little. He takes off the condom then looks around at a loss. Butcher takes pity and ties it in a knot for him. He discards it in a pile of paper towels which he also swipes briefly across his stomach.
Brendon lies down half on top of him. Butcher lays his hand on Brendon's back; Brendon is hotter than usual and still sweating.
"This blanket will be totally gross now, you should burn it," Brendon says eventually.
"Nuh uh." Butcher shakes his head. "I'm going to cut it into tiny pieces and sell them on E-Bay. Brendon Urie's sex blanket."
Brendon thwacks him in the chest but doesn't respond. They lie still for a while, until their breathing evens out.
"Ugh," Brendon says at last, lifting his head. "We should probably move from here, unless we want your bandmates to find us lying here naked."
"You don't want that?" Butcher feigns surprise, but he takes the hand that Brendon offers to hoist himself up. He bundles the lube and spare condoms in the blanket and shoves it in the corner with their clothes; Brendon's right, that blanket needs to be washed. Brendon watches him, smiling, and when Butcher straightens up, he darts forward to press a kiss onto Butcher's lips.
"Thank you," he says and Butcher just smiles back. Brendon crawls, naked, into Butcher's bunk and Butcher follows.