Cut Above All the Rest

Last show of the tour. Everyone was frantic, everyone was panicked and everyone was excited. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and that meant Christmas Eve party at the Hilton Hotel conference room in Chicago. Jon was going to opt out, just telling the guys that he didn't feel well. He felt a little bad about that, but he'd much rather be cuddled on the couch with his cat and Caddy watching some crappy movie than watching William Beckett do keg stands and Travis and Gabe race to get drunk and naked the fastest.

"You're almost home, Jon," Caddy said quietly into the phone. "It's been months! I can almost smell you, you're that close." She did a big overdramatic 'sniff' noise that Jon could hear through the phone.

"Watch it there, babe. You won't want to smell me until after I've showered. Living on this bus has put a massive black mark on my personal hygiene record," he laughed quietly, pulling on some...white shoes. They belonged to shoe-fetish-Spencer, he was pretty sure. Brendon had tossed them at him before, telling him it was the last show of the whole tour, and he'd be damned if Jon went on stage in flip-flops, or, God forbid, bare-foot.

She laughed loudly at his joke and he could imagine her shaking her head softly. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Jon, bright and early at the airport."

"You're coming to get me?"

"Of course, silly; Dylan and I are. I love you and I'll see you tomorrow." Dial tone.

- - -

The show went down without a hitch, and so did the after party. End of tour parties were still quite new to Jon, as he was the newest member of the band, so he sat quietly with a couple of members of The Academy Is..., a beer in hand, listening welcomely to the conversation.

He was feeling slightly buzzed -only slightly- already on his fifth beer after only about 40 minutes, so he didn't trust himself to answer in his phone, which had been buzzing occasionally since the time he started drinking. They say drunk people have a habit of letting the truth slip, and if he was right in guessing that it was Cad on the other end of the phone, and he did happen to answer and let a certain truth slip, he would be in hot, hot water.

There was also the matter of the airport tomorrow. The guys would be with him, meaning they would meet Caddy, meaning all hopes that Jon had for two separate lives would go down the metaphorical plughole.

It was not long later, while Jon was on his eighth, or ninth beer and pulled out his phone, while it was vibrating softly again, alerting to a call. He got up slowly and wandered away from the 'party', ducking behind Panic's bus, pressing the green 'accept' button. "Hey," he said quietly into the phone.

"Hey Jon." It was Caddy. Of course it was Caddy. The amount he talked to that girl was borderline weird. "I've been calling, I mean,-"

Jon giggled softly, cutting her off. "I've just been busy! I'm sorry!" He sank down to the ground, leaning on the wheel and putting his half empty beer next to him. "Last night of the tour," he murmured, noting that his words were slurring only slightly. "I don't hold my alcohol well..."

"I know, Jon baby; I know," she said softly, sweetly back.

"I miss you," he said after another moment. "You still owe me that ki-" he paused and burped, "-ss. And...I can't wait to see you!" he shrieked, standing up and tugging on the ends of his hair, giggling again. "I mean, like, I've never been away from you for so long and I miss you so, so, so much! I want that kiss."

"You already said that."

"Just reminding you!" he said petulantly, reminding Cadlyn oddly of a boy she used to babysit who lived three apartments down. There were a few strange noises on the other end of the phone, followed by 'oof!' "I just had...I just had to sit back down!"

"It's okay, Jon."

"You're really pretty," he said after another few moments, guzzling down the rest of his drink, tossing the empty bottle to the side, glancing around, contemplating whether he could be bothered getting off his ass and getting another.

Cad murmured a thank you back, silently hating on the people who invented alcohol. It made Jon do and say stupid things, and sometimes, she quite disliked him when he'd been drinking. "I meaaaaan it!" he wailed. "You're gorgeousss!"

"Stop it, Jon."

"You stop it. I wish..." he burped again, taking another beer from the cooler he'd found, running all the way back to his hiding spot, his flip flop that he'd put on not long before coming off twice along the way. "Will you marry me? I mean it!" he giggled again. "When I get home, we should get married!"

"Jon, stop it, or I'm hanging up."

"Okay," he whined softly. "Please don't hang up! You know alcohol is a depressant? I did." He twisted the cap off of either his ninth or tenth. "And five standard drinks in the first hour apparently means that you're intoxicated."

"And..." she was almost afraid to ask. "What number are you on?"

"I don't...really know. Nine? I think, maybe ten." He smiled to himself, taking a long drink of his beer. Caddy was everything to him...he frowned slightly, realising how easily she could break him if she wanted to. What an odd thought his train had stopped on, but he dwelled longer.

"Jon?"

"Yes?"

"Keep talking. What are you thinking about now?" Caddy asked him softly, and he giggled back. He could imagine her twisting blonde hair around slim fingers, biting her lip, anticipating an answer.

"You."

"Me?"

"You."