Author's Note:

Hey guys! Please review, and feel free to give sugestions, I love hearing them! Thanks!


DISCLAIMER:

I do not in any way shape or form own Panic! at the Disco, or Fall Out Boy. This Fan-Fiction is completely fan-based, and is completely fictional. None of this actually happened. Okay? Okay. Now, lets get to the story.


Chapter One; Well, this calls for a Toast

It wasn't that Brendon didn't have time to do the show. It was that he didn't want to do it. He had always tried his best to avoid getting roped into the high school's productions. They were full of beginners just trying to get a passing grade, and doing recitals because they had to, whether they liked it or not. Most of the students in the few dance classes the school offered ended up there against their will, because the regular PE classes filled up too quickly. It was as if the arts department was where the guidance counselor sent all the academic run off. Those losers didn't really want to be bothered with performing, and Brendon didn't want to be bothered with them. Unfortunately, Brendon was slowly learning that it's almost impossible to say no to Sabrina Doolittle. Sabrina was definitely one of the stranger high school kids, and was, just like himself, an outcast in school. Her hair was a bright blue, could that be the reason? Or could it be she had more peircings on her body than the most mathematical person could count? It was either that, or her compulsive hyper personality.

"Brendon, come on. I wouldn't ask if I didn't have to, but we're short male dancers, and the director's looking for anyone to help out now! We really need your help." Sabrina stared up at him with her bright blue eyes, fists clenched.

Brendon sighed, muttering under his breath in protest. "I've got classes at the academy after school and weekends."

"Please?" Sabrina asked, biting her lip. Sabrina wasn't one to pout, she wouldn't degrade herself to that. Which only made it worse. Brendon would have no problem saying no to a pouty whiner.

"But," Brendon started, pausing. Despite the fact that he usually went to the academy, their own production wasn't for a month or so. Brendon could cut down his hours spent there to make room for rehearsals at school if he wanted to… for a little while.

"I fucking hate this school." He muttered angrily, rolling his eyes. "Alright. Fine. You win."

"Alright?" Sabrina replied, sounding somewhat shocked that her friend had actually agreed to perform. "Alright what?"

"I'll do the show," Brendon clarified. Despite Sabrina's smile, he wasn't all that excited.

Sabrina hugged him, eyes sparkling. "Okay. Thank you, Brendon."

Brendon shrugged. "I've got some free time."

"Yeah, yeah. I know you don't want to, but I appreciate it. I really do. Come talk to the director after school today. Get you started."

"Okay," Brendon replied, shaking his head. Sabrina turned away smiling, heading in the opposite direction Brendon had to travel to get to class on time.

"How do I get myself into this shit?" Brendon growled, gathering his books and heading off to class.


The rehearsals were as sloppy as Brendon anticipated. The director had a hard time commanding the attention of the cast. Half the students didn't even know how to spot when they warm up with chain turns across the floor, but Brendon picked up his parts extremely quickly, satisfying the director. Currently, that was all that mattered to him in his current situation. Well, that and the fact that he was partnered with Sabrina for a modern piece. Sabrina was worlds better than most of the students there, and Brendon liked her. A lot. Of coarse, he would never, ever tell her this. At least not yet. They'd become good friends over the past couple years at the same school, and the only time rehearsal wasn't almost entirely a joke was when they get to run through their number.

"They had me dancing with Ashton at first," Sabrina grinned. "He's a good guy, but I think I'm too much lady for him."

"He's a weak little fuck?" Brendon asked, smirking.

Sabrina laughed, shaking her head. "Be nice." After a pause she added, "But he really tried."

Brendon had no problems dancing with Sabrina or lifting her when the choreography called for it. She was actually quite light in his opinion. The rehearsals themselves really weren't difficult, although they did become tedious after running through the same five minutes of music for hours at a time, because people wouldn't just cooperate and pick up their cues. Each practice, Brendon ended up mildly annoyed, pissed beyond comprehension about how pathetic the rest of the members were at their attempts. To make matters worse, Brendon still had to deal with walking through the crowd of skaters that hung around the auditorium steps and benches along the building after school, using the rails and table tops to practice tricks.

It was the 21st century, wasn't it? One would think that taking shots at a guy's masculinity got old a long time ago, but apparently not. The skaters are never automatically rude or all that bad, but Brendon had dealt with the occasional group of kids, girls and guys, who made sarcastic comments once he started talking about what he did for a past time, how he had been dancing for years, and, yes, that included ballet. People had always thought they were funnier than they really are. He didn't care what anyone there thought, but it was more that he didn't feel like having to field the attempts at scathing humor at all.

Brendon walked outside with a few of the other students after rehearsal. One of skaters hanging around the area asked what they were doing -- in the auditorium, what was going on in there?

"Dance show," one of the girls offered helpfully as they passed by. Brendon shrugged it off, the girl unfamiliar. He wasn't familiar with all of their names yet.

Another one of the boys asked if the girls danced around in those shorts they were wearing at that moment, which were black, skin-tight, and dangerously close to being swim-suit bottoms. Brendon rolled his eyes. At the same time another guy asked if the boys they were walking with danced around in tiny shorts, too, and the two laughed together.

Brendon was so busy looking back at them, that he didn't even see the skater that he collided with coming. Some random skinny kid trying to do an ollie or what-the-hell-ever. The guy grabbed hold of Brendon's arm, popping up the front of his board, narrowly escaping an outcome that probably would have involved landing on Brendon's feet. He sort of used Brendon as an anchor to regain his balance though, and Brendon shruged him off when the shock of the moment passed, saying, "Dude. Excuse you."

"You ran into me," the guy said, stepping off of his board.

"Whatever," Brendon growled, tugging at his left sleeve to straighten out the arm of his track jacket. He was in a shitty enough mood without some punk ass skater getting up in his face. Stepping around the guy, he muttered something under his breath, then followed Sabrina out of the gate, heading home.


Ryan. Ryan couldn't nail this fucking tail grind to save his life.

He tried all afternoon and fell eight times. After the collision with the drama-kid, pain was now searing through his shoulder like a hot blade. "Fuck it, I'll take over video-duty."

Spencer gave his friend a sympathetic glance. "Do you think you need ice? Me and Pete can go to the store down the street or something."

"No, I'm okay," Ryan replied, trying to convince himself more than Spencer. Joe set up at the top of the stairs and called down, "Hey, Ryan, you think your okay to film yet?"

"Yeah, just come on!" Ryan called back, pressing record.

They all hung out after school regularly, either at the benches and bike-racks or at the park. It was quicker to get to than the actual skate park, cost less, and had enough platforms, gates, and railing to make a day out worthwhile. More often than not, campus security didn't even bother them, because the guy on duty at the east gate, Andy, liked to watch them fall on their heads and fuck up their stunts.

The only time they really got interrupted was when the artsy kids came out of the auditorium and cut right through their area to leave campus. Ryan had no problem with those kids and their shows, but he could definitely do with less of the ones who had uptight attitudes, kind of like that jerk that ran into him that day, and then acted like Ryan was the jackass for getting in his way.

Keeping the camera rolling, he squinted into the viewfinder. His friends had asked them questions about the show again, and the dancers continued to shoot back vaguely sarcastic answers. Pete glanced around, searching out someone to ask about the dance. He flashed a charming grin to a dark-purple haired girl as she passed by. Her lips were pierced on both sides, along with the left side of her nose in a loop ring, and the right side of her eyebrow in a spike. Ryan recognized her as… Katie Marshall, was that her name? She was in one of his Language Arts classes.

"What if I want to come?" Pete asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's five dollars," Katie replied, not even glancing at the guy who asked her the question. Ryan caught her profile in the camera, and asked before really thinking about it, "But when is it?"

Only now had Ryan realized. The guy from the other day was standing next to her, Sabrina at his other side. He turned his head when Ryan asked, looking straight into the camera lens. Ryan lowered it, caught off. Before he had a chance to say anything, the three continued to walk, Sabrina getting the other two's attention again, and soon they were too far away, their backs retreating. Ryan didn't get an answer.


It seemed that the closer the show got, the later the rehearsals had begun to run. Ryan's friends started to take off for the evening before the dancers even began to come out of the auditorium. One afternoon, Ryan called his dad, saying he was on his way home, but his dad told him he wasn't that far away from the school, running some errands. Ryan could just hang out there, and he'd pick him up in about half an hour.

Spencer and Pete didn't stay after school at all, so Ryan sat alone on the benches, bored out of his mind. He sighed, deciding to go and check the auditorium and, luckily, he found the doors unlocked. bounding back down the stairs, he grabbed his backpack and his skateboard before slipping inside the building. He walked through the small foyer, silently walking into the theatre. The lights were down, so Ryan just felt his way to the last row, taking a seat in the back, watching them run the show. He slouched down, putting his feet up on the seat in from of him, looking around to see if anyone would notice him, or maybe tell him to leave. He relaxed, satisfied.

Ryan recognized the guy and the two girls from the day before in a couple of the numbers. He watched quietly, amusement written on his face. After one the songs, the room fell silent, in a sloppy manner, as the instructor appeared from a door left to the stage.

"Alright class, that was good. There's some food and drinks set up in the lobby, your welcome to it." He paused, then continued. "But you are not to bring it back in the auditorium."

Ryan smirked. Their teacher seemed like a bit of a hard-ass. 'That's the good thing about skating.' He thought to himself, playing with his nails. 'No rules.'

As the next set of dancers took the stage, Ryan noticed the asshole and a couple of the other dancers walk up the aisle, right past his seat, and out of the door. Ryan stood, still being quiet, grabbing his stuff before going into the lobby where the dancers were now getting water bottles, occasionally picking at the fruit platters laid out on the table.

'They sound like they're talking about the stuff they just did, about the show', Ryan mused, hanging back for a second. After a few minutes, the others talking with the boy said they were going back in to wait for their cues, and Ryan began to step closer. The guy nodded, waving. "Alright, yeah. I'll be back in a minute. I just want some of these cookies."

Ryan revealed himself, walking swiftly over to him. "Hey. You didn't answer my question."


Brendon turned, cookie in hand, narrowing his eyes at Ryan. "Huh? Oh… its you again." He rolled his eyes, turning away, continuing to walk down to the auditorium, continuing to walk away, paying the young skater no mind. Soon, he felt a strong hand pull him back, and he turned, fists clenched. "Would you fuck off already?" He yelled, soon silencing himself as he noticed the disapproving glances he received from the teachers.

"Look, I just want to talk, okay?" Ryan pressed on, keeping a tight grip on Brendon's shoulder. Brendon finally swung around, glaring at the other boy with death in his eyes. "When is this concert… thing?"

Brendon rolled his eyes. "You… since when were skaters into plays and dancing?"

Ryan looked down at his feet. "I'm actually more for the music than anything…but the dancing can be fun to watch too."

At this, Brendon eyed the boy suspiciously. "Music? But that's not even the point of the dance."

Ryan opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off. "Ryan!" Spinning around, Brendon watched as one of Ryan's 'skater buddies' walked in the door.

"Hey Pete!" Ryan called, waving. Soon, the other boy had made his way over to his friend, eyeing Brendon. "Who's your… friend?"

Brendon snorted in disgust. "Like I'd degrade myself as to be friends with the likes of you pricks." After, he added, "You are just like the rest of them." Without another word, he stalked away, muttering under his breath as Sabrina ran up to greet him.


Ryan watched Brendon stalk away, glaring at Pete. His friend backed away, lifting his hands in the air. "What the fuck did I do?"

Shaking his head, Ryan sighed. "Never mind. Come on, my dad should be coming to get me soon, maybe you can hang out at my place for the night."

Pete shrugged. "I don't see why not… Ry, are you going… girly on us?"

Ryan instantly jumped to his own defense, but strangely, began defending Brendon as well. "What do you mean? Hell no!"

Pete grinned. "Well, you were talking to… that guy, you know, one of the dance freaks… you know, ballet and shit."

Ryan narrowed his eyes. "Pete, grow the fuck up." With that, Ryan stalked away in the opposite direction, leaving the building. His father was already waiting for him.

"Hey son." The man in the vehicle smiled as Ryan opened the door. "Was that Pete in there? Does he need a ride?"

Ryan gave a look of distaste. "Let the fucker walk."