This is just a short fic I threw together trying to prove that there are sexy band directors (or at least assistants) out there, and that some of them do have lives outside of band. Haha, just a short silly little fic for pure entertainment.
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64. Band-Aid / Bandage
It was one in the afternoon, it was hot, and it was humid … and it was band camp. Everyone was hot and thirsty and quite frankly, ready for lunch. It was the 400th time running set 32, but it just wasn't working.
"The sooner you get done with this set, the sooner we'll get to lunch." Mr. George Ryan reminded the exhausted band. You'd think a seasoned band like Mr. Ryan's wouldn't fall for his hallow words, but they did. They did the set the best they could for 15 more minutes and finally earned lunch.
The marchers let out a sigh as they walked off the field chatting with their friends as they made their way to the dining hall.
"Come on Mercedes! We don't want to be the last for lunch, do we?" Jenna and Kit asked their trombone playing best friend.
"I have to get my stuff together, you guys go on ahead." Mercedes smiled. The freshman girls smiled and went on ahead. Mercedes placed her trombone in the case and grabbed her water bottle.
"Oh to be a first year marcher …" the junior mumbled thinking of the girls.
"Shouldn't you be at lunch?" Mr. Chris Russel, the handsome assistant director (who couldn't be more than 25) asked.
"Probably. I'm headed that way." Mercedes smiled as she stood. "Care to join me?" She cocked her head to the side. Mr. Russel chuckled and followed. The pair walked in silence as they scuffed their feet in the dirt.
"So … What did you do to your arm?" Mercedes asked, nothing the rather large square band-aid exposing its self just past the sleeve of his short sleeved t-shirt.
"Nothing." He smirked.
"Come on, Mr. Russel. How embarrassing can it be?" He didn't respond. "Come on, you can tell me. I'm the girl who ended up doing a somersault on the 50 yard line last year due to a trombone – piccolo collision, remember?" She laughed, as did he.
"Alright. Fine. It's not an injury…" He trailed off.
"Oh?" She questioned.
"Yeah…" He trailed off again as he stopped to roll his sleeve up and pull the bandage away. Mercedes' eyes widened.
"You didn't!" She squealed.
"I did." He smiled triumphantly as he showed off his new tattoo.
"Oh my god …. Did it hurt?" She asked clenching her teeth as she moved a little closer to examine it.
"Not so bad." He lied as she admired the tattoo.
"Can I?" She asked as she placed her index finger to his arm. He nodded with a smile, flexing slightly. She let her finger trace the lined of the picture, the PERMANT picture on his arm.
"It is lovely … and very you!" She chuckled, pulling away as he readjusted the band-aid.
"Thank you." He nodded before putting out his arm. "And now to lunch?"
Mercedes chuckled and linked her arm in his. "Of course Mr. Snare – And –Drumsticks- Tattoo." And the pair broke into laughter as they made their way to the dining hall.