If Only Until Morning

"Okay, guys, very funny," I called, padding into the lounge of the bus. The three of them--Aero was still sleeping-- looked up, Matt raising an intrigued eyebrow at my only wearing a towel and turning back to his book. "But fess up. Where are they?"

"Where are what?" Jesse asked, confused.

"Don't play dumb, Trill," I advised, gripping the top of my towel-toga tightly. "I know you took them, so just tell me. I won't be mad."

"We really have no idea what you're talking about, babe," Matt said, saving his place with his thumb to look at me.

I frowned, scrutinising them all. "You mean to tell me that someone snuck on this bus and stole all of my underwear?"

They looked at each other, and before they said anything, the bus door opened and Super Slut came prancing in, dressing in her usual Daisy Duke shorts and barely-qualifies-as-a-tank top. She stopped, all eyes in the room on her. Ali, however, was looking at me. "You know, there are a lot of guys around," she pointed out, severe smile on her overly glossed lips. "You really should put some clothes on."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "I could give you the same advise," I replied levelly. "Who was it this morning? Wentz? Or do you do it band by band? Is there an application process?"

Now all eyes were on me again, three sets of them surprised as well as confused. Ali, however, only smirked and covered it with an innocent expression. "What are you implying?"

"What did you do with my underwear?" I demanded coldly.

"Your underwear is missing?" she asked, pretending to be concerned and caring and making me want to rearrange her face.

Still eying her dangerously, I turned on a bare heel and went to dress myself. I stormed silently past the band and Ali, who shot me a vicious smile, and swung out of the bus. I glanced at my watch: 9:17. She couldn't have covered that much space in the time I was in the shower. But she could have gotten certain "friendly" individuals to help her.

I had almost an hour and a half, sixteen pairs of underwear, and about nineteen bands' busses to check before fans started in. I had to think hard to remember who she'd already met; if the band knew us, they would know her, too. Start with the obvious first, I decided, striding off.

"What? What?" Jack groaned, opening the bus door, on which I was pounding. He blinked blearily and focused his eyes on me, visibly perking up. "Hi there."

"Did Alison come around here within the last half hour?" I asked, ignoring thecute smile on his face.

Barakat shrugged. "I just woke up." Impatient, I pushed past him into the bus and inwardly cringed. I really should thank any and all higher powers that Matt, Sean, and Jesse were clean boys. But I could ignore the squalor. At least for a few minutes.

I crossed to the couch and nudged Gaskarth, staring half-lidded at the TV, with my foot. He slowly looked up at me and snapped to attention, wearing a broad grin. "Hey, Penelope," he greeted.

"I don't find you in the least bit charming or funny," I declared flatly. "And I know you have it, so drop the act."

He leaned back, hands behind his head. "Have what?" I opened my mouth, but then noticed that Barakat was watching attentively, and Zack and Rian had entered and were also listening. I bit down on my lip, taking a deep breath. Humiliation is never fun, but especially first thing in the morning. "She gave you my underwear," I said quietly. "I want it back."

Gaskarth tweaked his ear forward. "Say what?"

Beyond frustrated, I grabbed him by the hair and knocked his head back. The air in the room got suddenly tenser as Gaskarth's eyes went wide. "Where are they?" I insisted slowly. His hand jerked up, three pairs of familiar panties dangling in his grip. I let his head go and grabbed them with a small smirk. "Thank you for your cooperation."

I started to exit the bus, but stopped a foot or two from Barakat, who looked terrified when I did, and turned around. "I don't suppose she told you where she was going next, did she?"

Gaskarth shook his head, rubbing it. "Ow, woman. If you like it rough, all you had to do was ask."

I rolled my eyes and returned to leaving, swiping a plastic bag off the table on my way out. If this was how the whole adventure was going to go, I might have a lawsuit or three on my hands. I hoped it wouldn't.

Fall Out Boy came next, as they were parked next to All Time Low. Andy answered the door and immediately he said, "Pete and Joe have 'em." Oh, Andy. Sweet, rational, sell-out-your-friends Andy.

Wentz and Trohman were on opposite couches, slingshotting my underwear at each other. Patrick was watching slightly amused, but his smile dropped once he spotted me. I caught a projectile pair of hipsters and stuffed it into the bag. They both looked at me with entertained expressions. I held out my hand, wearing a no-nonsense "Comply, or suffer" expression.

"Spoil sport," Joe accused, handing them back.

Pete gave me his signature grin. "So I have a question," he said, showing off his basketball skills. "If Ali stole your underwear and gave them to other bands to hide... are you going commando?"

Grand. Now I had four twenty-something males very interested in the contents of my pants. I looked from Patrick back to Pete. I leaned my face close to his and smiled confidently. "I'm sure you and Ryan can discuss that later, Pete." He swallowed hard.

Although I'd gotten lucky with the first two spots, I wasn't with the next few. The most I got was a lot of laughter and repetitions of Wentz's question, as well as one or two attempts to check the answer themselves.

I'm not sure which was worse: Siska and Carden in stitches over my red and white pirate underwear, or Zac Farro insinuating that he should get Ali to steal the rest of my clothes. Seeing Hayley nail him in the head with a pillow from across the room was pretty amusing though.

No, I'm pretty sure the worst part was meeting four-fifths of Cobra Starship and having to ask for my underwear. Especially since Gabe was so taken with the idea of banging whatever chick owned the skivvies with the metallic snake encircling them. Beyond awkward.

Sitting on the back of a pickup truck used for schlepping equipment, I sifted through the bag, counting. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen... Shit. I rolled my head back, eyes shut. Of course, she had to bring the only even slightly sexy interesting pair to Panic's bus. I hopped off the truck and trudged off. "I'll never hear the end of this from Brendon," I muttered.

"Why would we have your underwear?" Spencer laughed, straightening his hair in the hallway mirror.

"Because Alison is a fucking bitch," I growled through my teeth at the floor.

Ryan leaned in. "Say what now?"

I turned my clenched jaw into a smile. "Nothing. Just talking to myself."

"The only reason why there'd be any of your clothes on this bus is, like, if you and Ryan snuck away without anyone noticing and had crazy clothes-losing sex," Jon commented, not looking up from the magazine he was reading.

While I saw Ryan's expression go shifty, I pealed off a laugh. "I'm sorry, how long have you known either of us?" I asked rhetorically. "If we were to be sneaky, I should think we wouldn't leave a metaphorical vapour trail."

Brendon then decided to stroll in, spot me, and say, "Oh, hey, Pen. I found these on the bathroom doorknob." And then he held up my pair of black lace panties on two fingers.

I rubbed my eyes with one hand, taking deep breaths. Jon and Spencer were hooting. "Thanks, Bren," I said wearily, taking them. "This brings the perfect end to my utter humiliation of the morning, which looms to continue until the end of tour, if not further. Consider my reputation trashed."

Ryan, trying to keep the smile off his face, took the contents from my hands and sat me down on the couch. I slumped into his shoulder and made a face at the whole situation. "How exactly did those end up here?" he asked. Ryan peered in the bag and continued, "Rephrasing: Why are you carrying around a bag of your underwear?"

I groaned, throwing myself sideways onto the seat. "Because Alison thought it'd be a nice idea if she took all of it when I was in the shower and share it with guys on tour," I explained maliciously. I rolled my arm over my eyes. "I swear to God, if I get another person asking about the interior of my jeans, I'm going to scream."

"...Lucky I didn't ask then," Brendon laughed. I raised my arm to glare at him.

"It was just a prank, Ange," Ryan reasoned. "We play pranks all the time."

"Not on each other!" I protested, sitting up. "Not out of spite! We don't turn on our bands! We team up and do silly, insignificant, childish things to each other!" I frowned suddenly and snatched up the plastic bag, heading for the door. "Which reminds me."

"Woah, where are you going?" Brendon asked. "Stay and hang out."

I paused and looked at the four of them individually, gaze lingering on Ryan. "I don't hang out with liars who stand me up," I said matter-of-factly. And then I swept out of the bus and back to my own, where I spoke to no one for the thirty seconds I was there before I returned outside, with parasol open, to find someone who wouldn't aggravate or embarrass me.

Or at least, someone who would be charming and amusing about it.