CASUAL AFFAIR; brendon urie

Chapter Twelve

They sure took their sweet time getting ready to play. I nudged Breezy and held my palm out as if to say 'This! What is this?' and she gave me a knowing look, rolling her eyes and nodding. Both of us having worked the merch on tours and concerts before really should have readied us for it, but it just took so damned long. And none of the crowd assembled moved away or complained, making me wish I had their seemingly boundless patience.

Finally - finally - the guy who had been fiddling with the mic - which had been emitting a low pitched sort of whining before - moved away, put one of his hands to one of the ear muffs on his headgear, looked deep in thought, before nodding once, and giving the guys the thumbs up.

It seemed to be a unanimous thing.

Spencer patted Brendon on the shoulder, dodged an arm punch from Dallon, and ruffled that giant hair of Ian's, before going up, behind his drums, grabbing the sticks laid there, and twirling them in his hands like some karate pro. He adjusted the mic there, and stood up quick enough to give a quick thumbs up - to Linda, I'm guessing, but the crowd sure loved it.

Ian crooked his finger to the other two, and they all leant in close as he whispered something. They all seemed to find whatever he'd said a hoot, because although I couldn't hear them, their faces creased up in laughter, and Dallon held his palm out for a high five. Ian then shook his suit jacket off, loosened his tie, and slung his guitar more comfortably around him, running his fingers up the neck, before taking his place.

The room only got more rapturous.

Then there was only Brendon and Dallon off to the side, heads close together as they spoke, Dallon's fingers dancing along the neck of his own guitar in a sort of unconscious way, before gesturing wildly with that hand. Brendon nodded with whatever he'd said, then held his hands up in a what was I supposed to do? Way. My heart stilled, until Dallon, too, nodded, face breaking out into a grin again.

It was him who went up to the main mic first, narrowly missing the keyboard, before letting his guitar hang loose, and gripping the mic. I seemed to be trying to go all chameleon, keeping one eye on my brother, the natural disaster, and Brendon, who had since shucked off his suit jacket, had a beer bottle clutched in one hand, arms folded, watching it all with amusement. He took a swig, before his eyes swept the crowd, and they ... They caught mine. I didn't know what to do with myself, so I probably gawped right at him, as his lips twitched upward in a wicked smile, and he took another swig. And just like that, the contact was broken again, releasing me from my paralysis, and letting me breath - at least normally - again.

"Pop, pop, popsicle." Dallon chimed into the microphone, and the sound echoed throughout the room, and all those assembled whooped, and made other such sounds of excitement.

"Ves, ves, vesicle."

Breezy and I shared a look.

"Test, test-"

"Oh, God." Breezy groaned, smacking her palm to her forehead.

"Testing!" he seemed to deliberately look our way as he said it and gave the most wicked grin. This little stunt, however, seemed to delight the crowd to no end, as they burst into raucous laughter, and noises of applause.

"I married an asshole, didn't I?" Breezy peeked between her fingers, but there was a smile on her lips.

I took another drink of the awful whatever-the-hell-excuse for alcohol was in the cup. "That's what I've been trying to tell you all this time."

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Dallon cried, thrusting one fist into the air. And just like that, Dallon got the crowd eating up his every word, giving some spiel about how tonight was our - his - lucky night because we got first listen to the brand spanking new Panic!, and lucky little him got to play in the brand spanking new Panic! And how momentous it all was. I mean, he got really into it, enjoying his brief time as being the main attraction in the band, centre stage.