Hey, everyone! Here's your new oneshot! I had another, much much longer one I was planning to publish, but a portion of it is in French (spoiler alert) and it's several thousand words, so it's taking me some time to crank through. But it'll be the next oneshot posted for sure.

The summary; a short space of time in which Mitch Grassi finds himself stuck at an airport, bored out of his mind and trying not too go crazy (or puke) at the thought of getting on yet another plane. It's a good thing his boyfriend is there to distract him, or else the tiny brunette might just throw his phone across the room and begin to tear his hair out. Nobody needs to see that.

The lyrics below are from Lady Gaga's Do What You Want, so disclaimer.

Read away!

Mitch leaned his head on Scott's shoulder, watching with idle eyes as the blonde scrolled through Twitter. Avi and Kevin sat across from them with the beat boxer's phone between the pair and a single ear bud in each of their ears as they listened to music together. The only girl of the group, Kirstin, was sitting on her knees and reading. She tilted her head to the side, licked her lips, then carefully turned a page.

The countertenor sighed, though wasn't heard over the constant annoying loud obnoxious awful hum of noise that always accompanied an airport. It was time for Pentatonix to leave Chicago, Illinois and continue their tour in Los Angeles, California. Like they usually did, they were going to fly.

In the middle of the motherfucking night. While it was stormy as shit outside.

Because, oh yeah, besides the constant annoying loud obnoxious awful hum of people arguing and rushing about and talking, there was also the constant annoying loud obnoxious awful roar of wind that carried hail rapping against the large glass windows (Mitch knew it was tempered glass made to resist the elements, but this did not make him feel any better). Rain had joined the mix several minutes ago, causing the volume of the storm to crank up many notches. It was four in the a.m., Mitch was tired, and he had to get on a plane. Three things that he strongly disliked all happening at the same damn time.

"I'm bored." The smaller man whispered in Scott's ear, turning his face so that he could press his lips on the smooth neck awaiting him.

The blonde felt himself automatically leaning into the gesture, his body language screaming for more contact with the brunette, but with resigned and strictly-taught self-control he pulled away.

"That doesn't mean we should have sex in the middle of an airport, Mitch." He said with more snap in his voice than he had intended. He too was exhausted, of waiting and from lack of sleep.

"I was not thinking-!" Mitch wore an offended expression, sharply inhaling a gust of air and cutting off his own voice. "Please, with all of these people watching? Queen has more class than that."

"Mmmm." Scott nodded placatingly. The countertenor really hadn't been thinking that, and he really was tired, and the drawl in Scott's tone was beginning to greatly piss him off if you mashed all those factors together. Irritated, Mitch crossed his arms, huffing through his nose so that he wouldn't have a freak out. The knowledge that the plane would arrive soon didn't help his clammy hands or his upset stomach.

The baritone had only meant to kid (partially, if he was being honest), instantly noticing the negative vibes rolling off of the brunette. He slowly wrapped an arm around Mitch's tiny figure, tugging him closer. Even as the sharp edge of the cheap wooden chair dug into his side, Mitch gratefully accepted the warm invitation and relaxed against Scott's side.

"Sorry, Mitchie. I didn't mean it."

"I know." Mitch kissed the blonde lightly on the lips and reveled in the taste and smoothness. "I just want to get out of the city. I mean, it was great here, but it's so cold, and our jackets are nowhere in hell thick enough. I wonder how cold it needs to get before the city closes all of the schools...probably some crazy amount like eight feet, because those snow plows are huge. They could take down a monster truck. Hah, if that was a thing that would be amazing; these big tattooed muscled guys in their big-ass trucks ramming their vehicles against the smaller-ass plows that are driven by the skinny snowplow guy."

Scott patiently waited until the end of the countertenor's babble which he immediately knew apparated from nervousness. Since he couldn't hear half of what was exiting Mitch's mouth, he gathered the brunette in his arms and heaved him over his seat.

"Ohmygod!" Mitch exclaimed, startled at the feeling of being lifted into the air. His hands flailed momentarily, and then locked around the baritone's neck to make sure he wouldn't fall over. A second later, the brunette was sitting in Scott's lap (more like practically on top of the blonde). "If you'd ask me to move, I would've moved!"

"Yeah, but that would take too long." Scott smiled and lifted up his phone. "If you're bored, you can listen to music with me. The plane should be here in fifteen minutes, so we don't have long to wait."

Mitch's gaze flicked from the baritone's startling blue orbs to Avi and Kevin, whom were still sitting close to each other and exchanging silent messages about the music with their eyes. Kirstie was intent on her book, as she too was slightly bothered by the noise of the airport and was trying to block it out. The storm continued. Ice shards clicked and clattered loudly.

Bright red-and-purple patterned ear buds were buried in Mitch's bag somewhere; he reached and hooked a finger around the leather strap, attempting to drag it towards him without giving up his spot on Scott's lap. As Mitch's position shifted, the blonde sucked in air as his body did things that he did not want it to do. Mitch moved, wriggling and groping the insides of his bag. Scott felt like connecting his hand to his forehead in exasperation, feeling his pants tighten. Oh, god, this was not the time to be thinking about sex. He had been joking earlier. Just kidding. And they were in a freaking airport, for hell's sake!

Ugh, why was Mitch so damn attractive? If he wasn't, Scott wouldn't be having this problem in the first place.

"You okay, babe?" The brunette asked distractedly, his focus on untying the tangled mess of red cords that were knotted so tightly that they could've won a summer camp award.

Scott breathed. "I'm good." He thought of bad things and sad things until finally his problem went away. He glanced at Mitch, still worrying away at the cords. Good, he hadn't noti-

"I thought you were joking about the sex thing." The brunette looked at Scott from beneath his dark eyelashes, his voice lower and smoother.

Oh, no. "I was."

"Then why are you so hard?" Mitch stopped with his task altogether, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not." Scott said, eager to distract his boyfriend and veer away from the current topic. A light sheen of sweat surfaced on his forehead. He swiftly changed the subject. "Oh, lookie, you got your cords unknotted. Yay. Let's listen to music now."

Smiling slightly (the countertenor would make sure to take care of Scott's problem later), Mitch slipped one earbud in his small ear and handed the other to the blonde, whom copied him. Once he noted that both of them were ready, Scott took hold of the tiny plug and slipped it into his iPhone. He scrolled and scrolled, searching for just the right song, until the man sitting in his lap pointed at a particular playlist that the baritone did not hesitate to tap on.

I feel good

I walk along

But then I trip upon myself and I fall

I, I stand up

And then I'm okay

But then you print some shit

That makes me wanna scream

Mitch began mouthing the words to the funky pop song, nodding his head to the beat. The blonde mimicked him, stifling his giggles when he noticed Avi and Kevin giving the pair weird looks. Kirstie, whom knew her best friend's taste in music almost as well as she knew the back of her own hand, immediately recognized what song they were listening to and grinned.

So do what you want

What you want with my body

Do what you want

"As long as you don't choke me!" The tiny brunette sang aloud to finish the verse, his mind jumping to a Superfruit episode in which they had brushed on that particular essence. Scott laughed, the sound vibrating his chest. He remembered that too.

Avi blinked. "Somebody choked you?"

"Yeah." Mitch answered a little louder than normal due to the lyrics pounding his eardrums. "Scott did the other night when we were-" His explanation broke off into a startled gasp. The baritone had begun tickling him as a means of cutting off whatever he was about to say next. "Ack! Stop, stop! I am going to kill you!"

"Sure." Scott stopped his rein of torture at his boyfriend's command (he was queen, after all). He twisted his head so that he could lightly kiss the faint scowl off of Mitch's face.

Do what I want

What I want with your body

Do what I want

What I want with your body

Back at the club

Taking shots

Gettin' naughty

"No invitations..." The taller man continued to kiss Mitch, allowing a small part of himself to give in to his previous cravings. Suddenly, the stuffy, hot, busy noisy awful airport didn't matter. Enjoying the brunette's sweet taste and twining their tongues together, Scott barely had enough air to sing the few remaining words in a low octave. "...it's a private party."

Kevin was holding one hand in front of his face, attempting to give the couple some privacy and failing. "You guys, people are starting to stare."

The beat boxer was not wrong; many outsiders had paused in their activities and were ogling the two singers kissing, apparently drawn to the sight by some unknown force. Mitch opened his eyes from their closed position, noticed the people watching, and with Gaga still playing in his ears he pulled his mouth away.

"Later." He said when his favorite blonde gave him a slightly hurt look. "When there aren't so many people watching, okay?"

Kirstin had set her book aside to coo. She paused doing that action, received the hurried glance that Avi was sending her, cleared her throat, and gained her two best friend's attention like nobody else could. "Mitch, Scott. Avi says our plane is here."

"Really?" YES! They were getting out of this damn airport! Mitch eagerly leapt out of his boyfriend's lap (which caused his earbud to pop out of his ear) but bounced on the balls of his feet unsteadily. He nearly lost his balance from transitioning to different areas so quickly; Avi reached over and caught his thin arm just before he would've fallen.

"Thanks, Avi." Mitch said gratefully with a smile. The bass nodded, turned, and gathered his things. All of the other group members did the same.

The countertenor winced, distinctive buzzing and humming dancing around his ears once more. He had forgotten about the loud pattering of the ice storm that raged outside, the obnoxious prattle of voices around him, and just the general irritation that he had originally sat in his seat with. He had been distracted. Thank shit that they were going to get on a plane and out of here.

Mitch's stomach lurched. He had also forgotten about the plane. Now getting on it wasn't such a great idea.

"Ugh, we have to get on the plane."

Scott took his boyfriend's hand and squeezed it in reassurance. "It'll be fine, Mitchie." He leaned down so that his nose skimmed the brunette's pale throat. "You'll have me to distract you."

Kevin and Avi gave half-amused, half-impatient stares. Kirstin rolled her eyes fondly at all for of them and forged ahead to catch their ride. The noise was beginning to get to her. Plus, she honestly just wanted out of this cooped airport. Conversation began to flow among the group in snippets.

"That rain is effing loud."

"It's hail, actually."

"Are you correcting the queen?"

"Yes."

"Fine. So, Avi, I was sitting in Scott's lap and digging around my bag for my buds, and all of a sudden he-"

"Hey! Not cool, Mitchie!"

"I'm not sorry. I'm grumpy, haven't been kissed in five minutes, and am about to get on a plane. Not the best mix for me."

"I can solve one of your problems."

"Which one?"

"Your grumpiness. I could tickle you again. Then the problem is solved."

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"No kisses for a week."

"Ha!"

"What's so funny, Hoying? I can bump it up to two if you think you can manage one, tough guy."

"Oh, Mitchie. You aren't going to last half an hour."