AN: So! Welcome to my first chaptered work in a long while. I can't promise frequent updates, but I do want to thank anyone who's taking time out of their day to read this. As per usual, I don't own anything. Enjoy!


The tour bus wheels went round and round. Lunt sat atop his bunk, just above Larry's idly flipping through a magazine. It was another teen magazine, with topics the 29 year old barely considered gossip about the same dozen of high school aged kids he saw at all the press parties and label events. The only reason he was even bothering to flip through it was because there was another featured article about the Boyz.

The Boyz in the Sink were the hottest boyband since either *NSYNC or the Backstreet Boys, depending on who you personally thought was hotter. But the Boyz? No competition there. Not even by a long shot. The secret to their success was simple – they were all trained and seasoned performers, who were about twice the age of their fanbase.

Daniel Anderson Jr -or "Junior" as he answered to - may have been the youngest, but he had been performing nearly straight from the delivery room. Diaper commercials, ice cream commercials, roles in musical theatre, he was a natural fit for the group. And of course, he was only eleven years old, making him both adorable and viable boyfriend for the thousands of twelve year old screaming fans.

Jimmy Fisher was 27 and had the voice to show for it. Sure, he was a little chunkier, but could that guy ever hold a note. And belt! And despite his portly girth, Jimmy was a remarkably strong dancer. He always told his bandmates his dream was to get on Dancing With the Stars. The guys agreed, he'd probably make the top three. But the reality show they all knew he would win, without a doubt, was Celebrity Master Chef. There was a reason Jimmy was a bit on the chunkier side, he could cook. He was always whipping up some gourmet-esque meal or another, usually singing as he went about it.

Then there was Larry Martin. Lunt's rival for the spotlight. Larry was three years his junior at a crisp 26 years old. Larry had more talent and charisma in his pinky finger then most people had in their whole bodies. The weirdest of all was that he had never had any form of formal training. His amazing voice, his stage presence, his abilities, they were all raw and untouched. Every gig he ever got he landed without voice, acting, or dancing lessons.

Much unlike himself. Ivan Lunt – who was to be only referred to by his surname - was the oldest of the group, and had been taking vocal and dancing lessons for as long as he could remember. He was talented, there was no doubt, and he worked harder for it than anyone he knew. Every time he almost had a shot, when it was close enough that he could just about reach out and grab it, someone else swiped it from him. He was talented. There was just somebody else out there who was always just a tad more talented than he was. Landing this – the spot in the boyband, being an internationally renowned music group, thousands of screaming fans – sometimes it still felt like a dream that he was about to wake up from.

So that's why he sat, flipping though a magazine aimed at kids Junior's age. Because this magazine, it was proof. Physical proof that despite it all, he made it. He was a star.

The article itself was fairly typical. It talked about their new album, about their latest hit single, and about the tour they were currently embarking on. It had a small poll in the corner where the readers were asked who they thought was the cutest member. Larry was leading, of course, with 57% percent of the vote. Junior had 22%, the remaining 21% being split just about evenly between himself and Jimmy. But that was typical.

"Whatcha readin?" Larry's voice came out of nowhere, as suddenly the younger of the two and plopped his head up to peak over Lunt's shoulder.

Lunt blinked in surprise, before closing the glossy cover and setting the magazine down on the plush red seat. "Just another cheesy teen magazine. Everyone seems pretty excited about the tour!"

"That may change." Came the familiar voice of Bob Williams, the band's manager. He was in his very early thirties, and always, without fail, wore a tie. "Khalil's out."

"Out?" Jimmy asked, now suddenly peeking his head out from his bunk. "Out how?"

Bob ran a hand through his already messy strawberry blonde hair. "He's going to be father. Which, you know, is great! But he and his wife decided it'd be best if he stayed off the road."

"So what are we gonna do?" Larry asked, his eyes wide and voice high in a state of absolute panic. "We have no opening act!"

Inhaling sharply, Bob informed the trembling performer "I'm working on it. The label signed a bunch of new acts last month. They're trying to decide if any of them are rehearsed enough for a tour. They're going to get back to me before we make it to the coliseum. We'll get this straightened out."

"I sure hope so…" Lunt mumbled from his bunk, flipping over onto his side in the hopes of catching a few Z's. It was day one of the tour, and things were already going amiss. Well, it wasn't exactly unlikely for them.


Meanwhile, Ellen Torres was impatiently waiting for the last member of her girl group to arrive. On one edge of the seat sat Victoria Butler. Average height, blonde, beautiful, and the voice of an angel. Vicki was what everyone aspired to be. On the other edge sat Petunia Jenkins. She was tall, thin, and awkward in just about every sense of the term. She could hit those high harmonies, though, and that's all that mattered. Late as always was Megan Bovary, the star and powerhouse of the group.

"Why are we here?" came Vicki's bored tone. "I have an appointment for a manicure in two hours and I need to be there."

Ellen had never thought it possible, but the door suddenly slammed open. Although, as she was quickly learning, Megan could possibly break laws of physics with how loud she was when she did absolutely anything. "So what is this about then, hmm?" she asked, masking the French accent that was practically oozing out to the best of her abilities.

Exhaling slowly, Ellen looked at the girls, a huge a smile spreading across her face. "You're going on tour!"

She was met with a lot of blinking and three very blank expression. Vicki was the first to speak up "And you're reminding us because…?"

"Hasn't that always been the deal?" Petunia questioned, "Our first album makes at least Gold and we get a tour next summer…"

"This summer!" Ellen corrected. "The Boyz in the Sink need an opening act!"

"And they want…us?" Megan asked slowly, blinking in confusion.

"Think about the publicity." Ellen reminded them. "You and the Boyz share a target demographic. Tween girls hear you singing at their favorite band's concert, tween girls like your music, and then tween girls buy your album!"

Vicki nodded "So when do we leave?"

"Four hours." Ellen stated simply "Your first show is tonight."

Megan's eyes all but popped out of her pretty little head. "Tonight?! But we haven't packed or choreographed or…"

"She has a point!" Petunia cried, her voice now wavering with panic and concern.

Ellen shook her head softly. Why did the girls have no faith in her? "Costumes are being provided. You'll have a full hair and makeup team. You're getting your own tour bus. All you really need is a toothbrush, leisure clothes, entertainment, and anything you want to bring from home."

And with that, the girls were out the door, Vicki already on the phone to cancel her manicure.


Being on the road this much was difficult. It was a hard life to adjust to. And that was for the adults. Junior hadn't even hit puberty yet. The wool of his knitted blue and yellow afghan itched like crazy, but he snuggled further and further into it. It smelled like home, like his father's cologne and the scented candles his mother was forever lighting. Two months, at least, away from home again. Last time it had been five months. He inhaled deeply, engulfing himself in the familiar scents. He'd be back before he knew it, he was sure.

With both the blanket and the low rumble of the tour bus engine, Junior let his eyes flutter shut, even if only temporarily.

He wasn't asleep a half hour when he bolted awake, altered by Bob's cries of "They did! They finally did it! We're saved!"

"Who saved what?" Junior murmured amidst a yawn. He yawned a second time, stretching before blinking a few times to look at Bob clearly, while moving to clutch his yellow plush dinosaur to his chest.

The rest of the band was soon crowded around Bob, hanging off his every word. "I just got a call from the head of the label. They're sending an opening act up to meet us once we get to Portland. The show will go on!"

"Did they say who it was?" Jimmy asked, eyes wide with interest.

All four pairs of eyes were directed at Bob, who was suddenly shaking nervously. "Ah…well…I mean, they did…" he tried, racking his brain for the name. He had been so overwhelmed that they were actually able to book an act for the entire two months that he didn't retain all the details. "It's a girl group." He recalled. "Pop act, like you guys. Some girly name. They're nobodies right now. They don't even have a single out. But hey, they've agreed to open for you!"

"Girls?" Came Larry's high pitched, concerned voice.

See, Larry may have been the group's heartthrob, the object of desire for the twelve year old fans, but when it came to women his age, particularly the pretty ones, he always clamed up. Always. Suddenly, all the charisma was gone, and he was back to being the dorky kid in high school who couldn't get a date to prom. He could play the character of confident cutie when the cameras were on well enough, but he was thankful that most of their fans were at least half his age, and that they were so busy that he really didn't have time to date. But this? This through a wrench into all of that.

"Yes, girls. Well, women." Bob self corrected. Bob spoke some more, but Larry had already tuned out. He was going to have to find a way to deal with this.


Stepping inside the tour bus was like stepping into a whole new world for Petunia. She came from a modest upbringing. They never had anything in excess, but they always had everything they needed. Being immersed in the glitz and glamour of a tour bus, of all things, brought tears to her eyes. She never thought her talent could ever get her this far in life. And yet here she was, surrounded in luxuries that she never even knew existed. She pinched herself to reassure that it wasn't all a dream.

"Sort of unbelievable, isn't?"

Petunia stumbled backwards a bit upon hearing Ellen's voice. She was so absorbed in the dream like trance that she had honestly forgotten where she was, albeit only momentarily. Still somewhat dizzy, the redhead nodded "Absolutely. Sometimes I forget it's all real. The career, the success, everything…"

"Well, you aren't all that successful yet." Ellen reminded her client teasingly, wrapping an arm around the taller girl's side. "You still need to establish a fanbase and actually release an album and hopefully at least one song will be a hit."

Swallowing a bit, Petunia nodded, still in Ellen's grasp. "I know. Of course, I know. It's just so hard to believe I've already come this far."

"Believe it, hon." Ellen smiled, "If everything goes well, this is only the beginning."

Petunia had opened her mouth to speak, but soon the bitter particles of a glitzy perfume danced on her tongue as it filled the tour bus. "Will this be enough?" Megan asked, eyeing her four extra large suitcases. Petunia soon looked down to her one knapsack and one overnight bag and felt woefully under packed.

"Ugh, Megan, move." Vicki moaned, pushing past the shorter girl, wheeling her two suitcases in behind her. Taking in her surroundings, the blonde then asked "Petunia, where's all your stuff?"

"This is all of it." Petunia replied, insecurity wavering in her voice, as she tucked an invisible strand of hair behind her ear. Vicki always made her feel inadequate. Petunia knew that the other girl wasn't doing so consciously, but anytime Vicki spoke to her it knocked her confidence down a few pegs. That's why she preferred not talking to her at all.

Vicki's eyes went wide, eyeing the two small bags. "Wow. Someone sure knows how to pack light."

"If she doesn't want to bring that much don't get on her case about it! It doesn't affect you anyhow." Megan cried from the single bunk she had already claimed for herself. As far as she was concerned, she was the lead, she was the star, and she was the best. And since she was the best, she deserved the best bed.

Vicki rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed by the accusation. "I wasn't getting on anyone's case! I mean, I wish I could've packed that light-"

"GIRLS!" Ellen screamed. Ellen almost never screamed at them, so all three ladies were shaken to the core. "We haven't even left yet and you're already fighting? You're professionals. Start acting like it."


"This is it, Boyz." Bob's voice bounced from the acoustics as all four men walked on stage, the echo of their footsteps deafening. "The venue's are going to be bigger this tour, tonight is a taste of the rest of your summer."

While the whole band took it in with appreciation, it was safe to say that Jimmy was the most observant. He did the mental math quickly – it could hold up to twenty thousand people. And the opening night of the concert has been sold out for months. This was the real deal. The height of their fame. He knew that this was the best it was ever going to get. He swallowed, taking it all in. It was all downhill from here, so he swore then and there to take in absolutely everything.

"In just a short three short hours, this entire building will be filled with fans screaming your names. You ready?" Bob asked, raising an eyebrow.

Taking a deep breath, Jimmy answered out loud "More than ever."

"Good!" Bob grinned, checking his phone for more updates. Bob was forever on his phone. He was dependant on it. And, well, why wouldn't he be? His whole life revolved around that little piece of plastic and metal. His career, the band's career, even his personal life, it was all connected. If he ever lost that phone, he wouldn't be able to cope. And honestly, he knew he'd be the first to admit that.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Williams?"

Bob, having not expected anyone else to be there, had jumped and turned at the sound of Ellen's voice. Of course, jumping and turning are not easily completed in syncopation, so Bob took a little tumble of the stage. Immediately, all four boys ran to help him back up.

Dusting off his shirt, pants and tie, he coughed awkwardly, eyeing the woman in front of him skeptically, though still managing to answer ever so cheerfully "Yes! That'd be me! Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Ellen Torres." She introduced, extending her hand. As Bob shook it, she didn't notice how she had caught the eye of one particular boy band member, who was suddenly having trouble remembering the last time a woman this attractive was around. "If you have time, Mr. Williams, I think we need to sit down and have a proper meeting. There's a lot we need to discuss."

"Was everything not outlined in the contract you sent?" Bob asked, suddenly confused. Every venue sent a thorough contract that needed to be read over before the Boyz could play there. Bob read each one individually to make sure they were followed to the letter.

"Contract?" Ellen repeated. Suddenly, the realization dawned on her. Shaking her head, she began "Oh, no, there's been a misunderstanding. I manage Sugar Crystals."

Bob looked to the Boyz, who had all turned to each other. No one knew who she was talking about. "I'm sorry, who?"

"The opening act." Ellen stated bluntly, before turning to motion to the girls now ascending the stage to join them "These girls."