If Only Until Morning

I realised that I was dreaming around the time that Heath Ledger showed up. You know those moments, when something happens and you think, "Wait, just a minute now! There is no way that he'd be almost naked and in our practice space!"

Just me? Fine.

Usually I can stay asleep through lucid dreams, but once I knew I was asleep, I was partially awake. And even partially awake, I knew we were moving downward. I lifted my head and blinked blearily around. Airplane, I decided, settling back onto Jesse's shoulder, Means I'm taking a trip. Jesse thrown into that mix means the band. Band plus trip equals...

"I am so fucking pumped for Warped!"

Thwap!

I grinned and twisted around in my seat to see Sean and Matt engaged in a duel with their complementary pillows. To be honest, I was surprised they got through the flight that far without screwing around. The stewardess, or flight attendant , or whatever the hell politically correct nonsense they're called this week, came by and told them to stop in a way I guess was meant to be polite.

"I don't appreciate your ruse, ma'am," Matt stated loftily, tilting his chin up. The woman looked confused while the rest of us tried not to laugh. "Your ruse. Your cunning attempt to trick me."

She opened her mouth, closed it again, and shook her head. "Just please keep your voice down, sir," she sighed.

"He has Tourette's syndrome," Jesse supplied with an easy smile. "He can't help screaming randomly at the top of his lungs." To support his point, Matt screeched, "Mustard rabbits!" People turned to look at him derisively.

The attendant's eyes widened. "Shouldn't he be on some sort of medication?" she asked in a small voice, nervously eying Matt, who beamed at her.

"Oh, 'e is," Sean confirmed, lacing his fingers together on top of his head. "Only we accidentally left 'em in Germany."

Eyes wide as saucers, she quickly shuffled away, muttering about crazy people. Matt smirked at the three of us. "This job would be great if it weren't for the fucking customers."

"You'd feel a hell of a lot better if you ripped into the occasional customer," Jesse laughed, riffling through his pockets for gum.

I handed him a piece of mine and tossed the remainder of the pack at our bandmates. "There's nothing quite like pointing out the shortcomings of others, is there?"

Sean clicked his tongue. "You three 'ave watched that movie far too many times," he scoffed, shutting the window cover.

As we deboarded, the same flight attendant was thanking people for flying whatever the hell airline we were on, and she tried to hide when she saw us coming. Arm looped through his, I stopped beside Matt as he grinned widely at the nervous woman. "I know I'm your hero," he said, quite sane and pleasant.

I rolled my eyes as we strolled down the steps to the tarmac. "You really need a girlfriend or something else with which to entertain yourself," I pointed out, slipping on a pair of sunglasses.

He shrugged. "You know I'm the one you want to do dirty things with."

"With whom you want to do dirty things," I corrected, looking over the heads of surrounding workers for our luggage. "And no, you bloody aren't."

Matt gasped and put a hand over his heart. "I'm offering you my body, and you're offering me semantics. I'm hurt, Penelope."

I shot him a level stare while Sean hit him over the head with his hat. "Enough with the movie quotes! We need to find our shite an' whoever's pickin' us up."

With carts of equipment and cases in tow, the four of us found our way to baggage claim and sat down to wait. For me, that was on three-and-a-half-foot-high amp. I had to cling to Sean to keep from losing the band. I definitely didn't come out of there not bruised. Swinging my feet and staring blankly at the rotating belt of bags, I tried to ignore as much as I could the people walking far too close.

"This is why I hate L.A.," I mumbled to myself as yet another person jostled into me. I rubbed my left eye tiredly and leaned onto my hand. After a moment, I felt a very deliberate tap on my shoulder and, defensively, stood to my full height and put on a cold, condescending glare. "Can I help you?" I inquired, turning slowly.

The short man in tight jeans and a hoodie moved back a few steps. "Jeez, you're scary," he breathed, shaking his head slightly. "I forgot how tall you are."

I smirked and felt a protective arm appear around my shoulder. A stormy-faced Brit tugged me closer. "Is there a problem here?" Sean asked.

I couldn't help laughing at his stern expression and Pete's nervous one. "Oh, that's right. You didn't meet Peter last time." I circled my cart of equipment and gave Pete a reassuring smile, putting an arm around his shoulder. "Wentz, this is Sean, you remember?" He smiled and nodded, shaking his hand.

"Ha!" Matt exclaimed, prodding Jesse's shoulder. "Told you he'd pick us up! Pay up, bitch."

I rolled my eyes at them and smiled at Pete. "Let's go before they started a bet on what other famous persons you brought with you," I advise, gathering up my bags.

He laughed as we started to walk. "No one, actually," he said. "Everyone else is already at the site."

"You never actually told us who else is on the bill," Jesse put in questioningly.

"Penangela!"

I turned just in time to see a tall blur lurch at me and felt myself get lifted off the ground. While the rest of the guys snickered, I rationalised not to rearrange my assailant's face. Nobody else used that name. "Aromi Giovanni Tropher! Put me down this instant!"

Returned to my feet, I laughed at our manager's pouting expression. I nuzzled into his shoulder and kept us walking. "I am very glad that you could join us this time around," I told him as we exited the airport. "And that Charlie finally realised that your position required more than an en passant presence."

Pete turned around to blink at me and Aromi gave a whine as we started packing our stuff into the hitch trailer attached to Pete's car. "You know I'm not good with big words, Principessa," he reminded, picking up my amp.

The great thing about being in a band of guys, and knowing guys who were brought up to at least try to be gentlemen, is that I never have to carry anything unless I insist upon it. Which often I do and help anyway if they try to interfere. This was no exception. "Why can't you just shut up and let us do your work for you like a normal girl?" Pete grumbled, rubbing his shin.

It slipped.

Honest.

I shrugged, hiding a smile. "E mia natura." While the others started to pile into the car, Matt stood stock-still and stared at me with wide green eyes. I smirked and tugged him by the collar towards the door. "N' pensieri impuri, Matteo."

He groaned as I situated myself in his lap. "How do you expect me not to have impure thoughts when you speak Italian and sit on my lap?" he asked desperately, sitting stiffly.

Pete revved the engine and shot me a smirk in the rear view mirror. I arched an eyebrow at my drummer, looking quite distressing beneath me. "Say seventeen Hail Marys and then we'll talk."

I jumped out of the car and whacked Matt's head once it appeared. "Ow!" he exclaimed, more surprised than injured. "I can't help it!"

Sean snorted and put on sunglasses. "Be thankful she doesn't 'ave 'er Nona's palenta stick." Matt nodded rationally and started pulling equipment out of the trailer. I slung my duffel onto my shoulder and followed Wentz towards the mass of busses from which a din of voices rose.

A grin slithered onto my lips when I spotted a certain head of hair exiting a bus after its companions. They all spotted us and stopped to wait. I noticed the tallest among them set his sights on me and I beamed at the person beside him.

"Sisky!" I squealed exaggeratedly, sweeping past everyone else to give him a hug. While the others laughed, one made a miffed noise and I turned to him with a condescending smile. "Aww, did William miss wittle ol' me?"

Beckett stuck out his lower lip. "You love Sisky more than me," he said sadly.

I scoffed. "Please. Nobody could love Sisky more than you do." He rolled his eyes at me, but accepted my hug. "So!" I turned to the rest of the group with a grin. "Which other musical males am I going to be smothered by this summer?"

"Who's the babe?"

The people around me immediately took a few steps away from me. I turned towards the voice and surveyed the two boys before me. The one who'd obvious spoken was doing the same to me. "You staying around for tour?" he asked, grinning. "Sweet. Finally something sexy to have fun with."

I scrutinised him: tall, sort of cut (from what I could tell), very scene haircut. I went through the checklist of bands I'd looked up on the Warped Tour site and reached a logical conclusion.

"Judging by your vacant expression, lack of common sense, and crude grasp of the English language, you must be Alex Gaskarth," I decided.

He blinked at me. His companion's lips twisted into a stifled grin. At him I smiled. "And since you haven't said anything to refute your intelligence, though your bandanna and tattoo give you away, you're Zack Merrick." He ran his hand through his hair sheepishly.

Alex looked between us. "This isn't fair," he objected to Zack. "Why does she like you?"

Aromi put a protective arm around my shoulders. "Because she doesn't like boys who come off too strong," he explained easily. "And, kid, you're like espresso seeped for six days."

"Right," I agreed. "I get enough of that from Matt." Said drummer tossed me a glare, which I laughed off.

"She hasn't hit him," Jesse pointed out in disbelief. "I am very confused."

I smiled mildly. "First offence is free. Something tells me he won't go long without a few shots, though." I eyed Alex again and rolled my eyes. Turning to Wentz, I said, "So. Quarters?"

If you never been in a tour bus, you aren't missing much. You have the driver's area, lounge, bunkroom, another lounge, and bathroom. There's also a television or two, a few video game systems (though we brought those with us), and whatever instruments we keep up with us. Alright, so a tour bus is pretty much heaven. But it wouldn't be after about a week of rooming with four guys. And living around God-knows how many.

I hopped off the last step of the bus onto Aromi's back, and the band trailed after Pete (as well as our other new friends) into a large group of tents. Some people didn't give us much attention-- musicians are generally pretty strange-- though some stared or snickered.

I straightened and shaded my eyes from the sun. "I recognise that shirt," I acknowledged quietly. I tapped Aero's head. "Down, boy."

Feet on the ground, I strode away from our little parade towards a circle of guys, a few of them holding glass bottles. "Fancy meeting you here," I greeted.

They turned to me and grinned in recognition. "You're a long way from SF," the tallest pointed out, shifting feet (housed in incredibly stylish shoes). I shrugged nonchalantly and pulled away from hugging the bassist Justin, who had the most adorable grin. "Are you a merch girl?"

"I'm offended, Mister Harris," I stated, putting a hand over my heart and making a sad face at Shawn. "You don't remember that we almost opened for you."

Jon grinned. "So you're who everyone's been muttering about?"

"Penny Dreadful's reputation precedes us, I see." I heard Sean call my name from some direction and scanned the area before turning back to my absolute favourite band. "Well, I look forward to performing and hanging out with you guys this summer." I walked backwards, grinning.

"How do we know you're not just saying that?" Shawn called, still wearing his charming smirk. Down, hormones! The man is 25!

"The male to female ratio currently stands at 2 to a zillion," I called, laughing. "And you've got the only other female. Tell Victoria I'll catch her up later!"

On my stride in the direction of where I thought was Sean's voice, I met a few other bands: the rest of All Time Low-- Isn't there a one-whore-per-band rule?-- the majority of Fall Out Boy, and Paramore. The last was an accident: I walked head-first into Hayley Williams.

"Ow! I'm so sorry! ...Ow!" Several deep laughs and one higher-pitched sounded, and I squinted up from rubbing my head. Four people: one of them to my delight, another redheaded female, also rubbing her head.

"My bad," she excused with a laugh. "Wasn't looking where I was going."

"I was," one guy stated evocatively, looking at me.

I arched an eyebrow at him while another of the guys rolled his eyes. "Excuse my little brother," he said apologetically, looking at the kid. "Teenagers have simple minds."

I smirked. "I'd be offended if you weren't right."

He stuck out his hand, and I shook it. "Josh Farro. This is Jeremy Davis, my idiot brother's Zac, and this lovely lady is Hayley Williams."

I gave her a hug. "Want to be my friend?" I pleaded. Hayley laughed and nodded. "Sweet. I'm Angie. I don't suppose you've seen a trail of tall boys following Pete Wentz, have you? I seem to have lost them."

"Over there," Jeremy said, pointing.

"Wait, you're Penelope Dreadful?" Zac asked with a mix of scepticism and amazement. I nodded admittedly; he didn't listen to my introduction. He looked impressed, but a little disappointed. "I thought you'd be shorter."

"What a shame. I thought you'd be smarter." Hayley and Josh snickered while Zac merely blinked in surprise. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a band to find."

As I walked away, I heard Hayley say, "They're not all you'll find." I stopped, twirled around, and asked what she meant. I must say, Hayley Williams does not look so cute wearing that grimace. "If you're anything as cool as you seem, you'll just love your merch girl."

I frowned as they walked away and couldn't shake it as I heard my name called in a British accent again. "We have a merch girl?" I asked no one in particular.

"Matt," I said hesitantly once I rejoined the group, "You have something on your chest." It made a hideous noise, and I felt a muscle in my cheek twitch. "It seems to be of the giggling blonde variety."

Neither of them-- Matt or the blonde-- appeared to hear me, so I turned to Aromi, who wouldn't care about a man-slut jab. However, I amended my statement. "Since when do we have a merch girl?"

A voice sounded behind me. "Of all the people around, she instantly locks onto one she sees every day. Typical." Elation shot through me like a shock, and I whirled around to see four familiar faces. Only I was looking at one in particular. Which happened to be staring right back to me with a smile.

"You sneaky bastard, Ross!"

Several of our company went quiet and stared at me. The happy expression slipped off the face of the one I addressed. I stormed over to him and narrowed my eyes dangerously. "You didn't tell me you were coming on tour," I hissed lowly.

He cleared his throat and attempted a grin. "Surprise?"

A smirk crawled up from my toes and I threw my arms around Ryan, hugging him tightly. He was laughing, making a warm feeling drip over me. My eyes shot open after a moment and glanced around. "Don't kiss me now," I breathed into his ear, when his head moved. "I'll explain later."

Ryan wore a confused expression when I pulled away, but he covered it with a smile. I bounced to the other three, giving hugs all around. "And here I thought we'd have to censor you for indecent activity," Brendon laughed.

I grinned slyly. "That's for later," I promised.

"Um, hi?" Voice: female, husky, coy. Exercise caution. I put on a half-smile for the girl who'd detached herself from Matt. "Who are you?"

I arched an eyebrow. "I believe I should be asking you that question," I told her, pointing a casual finger. "You are, after all, the foreign creature making strange noises at my drummer."

Matt snickered and brought the two of us together. "Penelope, meet our official retailer of merchandise: Alison Reich." I looked her over and the word SKANK invisibly appeared on her forehead, but I suppressed it at the risk of being judgmental. "Ali agreed to run the booth for us."

"I'm a big fan," she gushed. My right eyelid twitched. Of course, you didn't just ask who I was. "We're going to be best friends!"

I muttered a noncommittal response and she sauntered towards Alex and Jack to engage in... ahem... "conversation". Grinning excitedly, Matt asked me what I thought of her. Shize. Matt always knows when I'm lying. "She seems..." I drifted off, looking for a word.

Luckily, Pete came by to tell us that we should get back to the bus; some bands had already rolled out. I whispered to Ryan, still giving me a careful and slightly disappointed look, that I'd explain later and followed the guys to the bus.

Alison stopped in front of me, blocking the door. I raised my eyebrows expectantly, smiling politely. She wrinkled her nose and said, "If you want, I can help you with that filthy rat's nest you've got on your head."

With a feral, falsely-friendly smile, she turned and flounced into the bus, leaving me to gape after her. I gritted my teeth and shut my eyes. This was going to be a long tour.