One Time... At Band Camp [six]
Title: One Time... At Band Camp [six]
Author: panic_is_l0ve
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Pairing(s):Through the whole story, you will see Brendon & Ryan, Pete & Patrick, Spencer & Jon, & William & Gabe, & possibly more.
POV: 3rd, Brendon centric.
Summary: Ask Brendon, he knows every band camp story in the book because he's been through them all... or at least, so he thought.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This is purely fiction.
Beta: requisiteheart She is f**king amazing.
Author Notes:Don't kill me? Ahaha... And sorry for the delay. :/
Chapters: Master List | Prologue. | One. | Two. | Three. | Four. | Five.
"This is a horrible idea." Brendon stood in front of the mirror sighing.
Gabe was plopped onto the others bed as usual, flipping though a magazine he found in Brendon's room. "You worry too much, why is this is a bad idea again?"
"Because!" Brendon turned around, throwing his hands in the air. It's like Gabe was stupid or something he thought. "I've never been on a date before. I don't know what to do! And this is Brendon Urie we're talking about, I don't do dates."
Gabe closed the magazine, setting it next to him and rolled over onto his stomach. "Then why did you ask him out?" He looked at his best friend with an exasperated look.
"I... don't know. You're useless Gabe."
"Whatever." The taller boy shrugged and rolled back over, grabbing up the magazine again and picking up where he had left off.
Brendon turned back around, shaking his head and shrugging his shirt off. He tossed it to the side in disapproval.
This is not going to work. Brendon Urie doesn't do dates. The shirtless boy thought to himself. Walking over to the nightstand, Brendon grabbed up his phone and dialed Ryan's number -Brendon had chased after Ryan the previous day because, duh, how would Brendon pick him up if he didn't know where he lived?
Ring, ring, ring. "Hello?" A worried voice replied into the receiver.
"Hey Ryan, it's Brendon."
"Oh, hey! What's up?"
"Well, um, I have some bad news. I... can't go tonight. I'm so sorry! My mom fell and twisted her ankle so I have to take care of her," Brendon lied through his teeth.
"Your mom didn't-" Gabe began, but then was soon pelted with a pillow to shut him up.
"I'm sorry to hear about your mom Brendon, I hope she gets better." Ryan's voice was sad, but understanding.
"Well, I'll see you Monday."
****
Today was much different than last week, not only were the rookies and officers there, but every other kid in band was now present. All of the officers had arrived at least 10 minutes before time, but when eight rolled around, everyone was there.
Their was now a circle gathering around Brendon. It had started with Brendon, Gabe, Spencer, Keltie, Cassadee, Hayley, and Patrick around five minutes before eight. But after everyone arrived, Pete, Jon and Jersey had joined.
Pete was on the drumline, snare drum naturally. He was on the short side with dark, nearly black hair. Even in the heat he wore skinny jeans. It was pretty obvious that something was going on between him and Patrick, so naturally Pete clung to the others side.
The taller boy next to him with brown hair and a little scruff was Jon. He played the xylophone and was really good friends with both Brendon and Spencer, but he was standing rather close to Spencer to be natural. Closing out the circle was Jersey, the crazy trombonist. He had snake bits, crazy black hair and thick framed glasses, making him hard to miss.
So the circle of friends all chatted away, catching up on summer tails and discussing the marching show for this up coming year. Even Gabe enthused about the show -which he normally didn't- that is, until William came throw the door. Even across the room, his presence made Gabe stop talking.
"God Gabe, pick your jaw up off of the floor" the short, dark haired boy teased, punching Gabe in the arm playfully.
"I have no clue what you are talking about," Gabe defended himself.
"Whatever dude! Gabe and Bilvy sitting in a tree..." Brendon sang.
"SHUT UP DUDE." the taller one nearly shouted, and he was serious. He was furiously trying to quiet his friends as William gracefully walked across the room.
"Sorry man!"
"It's okay..."
William saw all of his friends in a circle and walked up with a particularly big grin on his face.
"Hey," William started, manly facing Gabe's direction. The skinny boys long brown hair -not that they weren't all skinny, he was just the skinniest- fell into his face as he spoke.
"Hey," Gabe was the first to reply.
What broke everybody's train of thought was Mr. Reed clapping, causing everyone to stop talking and when he shouted "Band Ten Hut!" Everyone rushed to attention and quickly replied, "Hut Two!"
"Alright everyone, parade rest please." The older man commanded, allowing everyone to relax again once he had their attention. "Welcome back, vets. I'm glad to see you've returned! I hope you can help to make the rookies feel at home over the next year. Before we begin, I need to go over a few things," Mr. Reed began, standing at his podium and speaking enthusiasticly.
Brendon wasn't really sure what Mr. Reed was discussing but he was pretty sure it was about fees and such. He stopped listening and, well, caring about the teacher's rambles and instructions. It took him longer than normal but he finally realized that Ryan wasn't at camp that day - that is until the boy barged through the door, nearly falling onto the ground.
The fragile boy stood with wide eyes as everyone's attention dawned towards him. He shuffled towards the back of the room quietly with his head down, avoiding all of the eyes staring at him.
"Did I miss anything?" Ryan whispered into Brendon's ear as he came up behind the dark haired
boy.
"Nothing, nothing at all," Brendon replied with a grin on his face because, hello, Ryan was talking to him even though he stood him up last Friday.
"Okay, thanks."
**
After Mr. Reed finished talking, it was time to go and practice and now walking over to the baseball field, Brendon had a bigger crowd. Ryan though, was not apart of it. Brendon wasn't going to complain though because things were working out a lot better than he imagined. So he walks down the sidewalk with his saxophone case in one hand, a water bottle in the other, a small band drawstring bag on his back and his friends trailing behind him and he's a pretty happy guy.
Normally, everyone was to meet at the field first thing, but today was an exception to this rule because they had meet in the band room first. Normally, practice is started at the field, rather than detouring to the band room first thing. Most of the kids with cars just parked near the field when they had practice.
Brendon never really imagined himself in this position. When they get to the field, he gets to start the rehearsal. He gets to lead and tell everyone what to do. The power was astonishing and Brendon wasn't sure just how to handle it yet. Being the band captain seemed like a dream, a fantasy, but it was real. He could do what he wanted and talk as much as he wanted. He could correct and punish and bark orders.
The hardest part about being a captain would be to not overstep those boundaries.
As everyone gather onto the sideline of the make-shift football field (painted on the back end of the baseball diamond), Brendon helped set up what was needed for rehearsal. This included Gabe's podium, the speaker, and the yard markers.
The grass was soft, and had that freshly cut smell to it. Bright white football lines were painted onto the grass, showing great contrast between that of the green grass. It was a nice day to have band camp, the skies were a nice blue with just enough clouds to cover the sun, but not cause it to rain.
The band members settle themselves on the sideline, setting their stuff in groups of sections. It was pretty chaotic, band members playing, chatting, and running around with no control.
"Attention please!" Brendon shouted towards the mass of kids. "We are going to form a warm-block now. It will go score order and the section leaders will stand at the end, so section leaders, if you will."
All of the section leaders, starting with Cassadee, stood at a different yard line. The flutes started on the right 20 yard line, continuing in score order to the left. Each section leader was faced toward the sideline, with their section in a row behind them. After it was all set up, Brendon went back to the front of the block and next to Gabe.
"We are going to start with some stretches!" Brendon enthused, looking over at Gabe who grinned back. "Set your instruments down."
"Left arm across!" Gabe demonstrated by holding his left arm straight across his chest with his right arm holding it, which was bent at the elbow, fist pointing upwards.
The whole band -and Brendon- mimicked the movement and held the stance until Gabe put his arm down.
The two boys went through the rest of the warm-ups with the band afterwards and then everyone took a lap around the length of the baseball field -around the perimeter of the fence.
"Okay, make two lines guys!" Gabe shouted, walking with Brendon to the side of the football field to form the lines. Everyone -cautiously avoiding the instruments- walked over to form the two lines. When they were set, Brendon and Gabe began to run, leading the band around the field.
When they returned to the front side-line where all of their belongings -except their instruments which were still in the block-, the whole band took a water brake. Brendon was standing near the podium with Gabe, looking around at all the warn out kids. His eye caught Ryan's and they both immediately looked away.
***
It was an hour into fundamentals and it was way to hot for this. Despite the breeze they had earlier in the day, the clouds quickly disappeared, leaving the sun to blister down on the band. Everyone was standing in the warm-up block they had earlier, standing at attention with their instruments.
One of the staff members, Mr. Westly, was running the fundamental block, making the band march whatever commands he decided to throw at them.
"Again! Forward eight, back eight, forward eight, left eight, back eight, right eight halt! Repeat!" Mr. Westly shouted, pacing back and forth next to the whole band.
Every kid in band - that showed up that day - were on the football field, either on a yard line or halfway and evenly spaced left to right. It was basically a giant box of band geeks.
In unison with the cowbell Mr. Westly was beating with a drumstick, the whole band repeated the command and then executed it. Some of the kids -manly rookies- stumbled or got off step, but the recovery was good. It really wasn't bad for the first day.
It was the fifth time in a row Mr. Weslty made the band do this drill, but he slowed down the tempo to half of the original tempo. Mr. Westly tapped the cowbell at 60 BPM -or the rate of the second hand on a clock. The slower tempo called for more control over the body, it was much easier to fall at this tempo.
Luckily for Brendon, he didn't have to do fundamentals. Being the captain, the officer was aloud to walk around and critic the other band members on their marching. It was weird to do so though, because Brendon didn't want to correct his friends on their mistakes. Walking within the block, he passed by Ryan, who avoided all eye-contact.
After the last run, they were allowed a two minute water break.
"Breendoooon!" Gabe stressed the vowels in the captain's name as he trudged over from where he was getting off of his podium.
"Hmm?" the shorter boy hummed at his best friend. Instead of a reply, Gabe just leaned his weight on Brendon, nearly knocking him over.
"Where did William go?" the moping boy stood up straight, using his shirt as a fan to cool of his body. Every time the white material flew up, his tan skin was shown and it was already shades lighter than his arms and legs from the sun exposure last week.
"The pit had to stay inside, remember? You don't pay attention to anything dude."
"What's the pit?"
Brendon smacked his forehead. "The pit is the percussion on the side line smart one. William plays the timpani, the giant drums."
"Oh! Okay, I know what your talking about."
They both laughed as they grabbed up their water bottles off of the side line. The band seemed like it was going to be surprisingly good this year.
<-Five.Seven.->
Author: panic_is_l0ve
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Pairing(s):Through the whole story, you will see Brendon & Ryan, Pete & Patrick, Spencer & Jon, & William & Gabe, & possibly more.
POV: 3rd, Brendon centric.
Summary: Ask Brendon, he knows every band camp story in the book because he's been through them all... or at least, so he thought.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This is purely fiction.
Beta: requisiteheart She is f**king amazing.
Author Notes:Don't kill me? Ahaha... And sorry for the delay. :/
Chapters: Master List | Prologue. | One. | Two. | Three. | Four. | Five.
"This is a horrible idea." Brendon stood in front of the mirror sighing.
Gabe was plopped onto the others bed as usual, flipping though a magazine he found in Brendon's room. "You worry too much, why is this is a bad idea again?"
"Because!" Brendon turned around, throwing his hands in the air. It's like Gabe was stupid or something he thought. "I've never been on a date before. I don't know what to do! And this is Brendon Urie we're talking about, I don't do dates."
Gabe closed the magazine, setting it next to him and rolled over onto his stomach. "Then why did you ask him out?" He looked at his best friend with an exasperated look.
"I... don't know. You're useless Gabe."
"Whatever." The taller boy shrugged and rolled back over, grabbing up the magazine again and picking up where he had left off.
Brendon turned back around, shaking his head and shrugging his shirt off. He tossed it to the side in disapproval.
This is not going to work. Brendon Urie doesn't do dates. The shirtless boy thought to himself. Walking over to the nightstand, Brendon grabbed up his phone and dialed Ryan's number -Brendon had chased after Ryan the previous day because, duh, how would Brendon pick him up if he didn't know where he lived?
Ring, ring, ring. "Hello?" A worried voice replied into the receiver.
"Hey Ryan, it's Brendon."
"Oh, hey! What's up?"
"Well, um, I have some bad news. I... can't go tonight. I'm so sorry! My mom fell and twisted her ankle so I have to take care of her," Brendon lied through his teeth.
"Your mom didn't-" Gabe began, but then was soon pelted with a pillow to shut him up.
"I'm sorry to hear about your mom Brendon, I hope she gets better." Ryan's voice was sad, but understanding.
"Well, I'll see you Monday."
****
Today was much different than last week, not only were the rookies and officers there, but every other kid in band was now present. All of the officers had arrived at least 10 minutes before time, but when eight rolled around, everyone was there.
Their was now a circle gathering around Brendon. It had started with Brendon, Gabe, Spencer, Keltie, Cassadee, Hayley, and Patrick around five minutes before eight. But after everyone arrived, Pete, Jon and Jersey had joined.
Pete was on the drumline, snare drum naturally. He was on the short side with dark, nearly black hair. Even in the heat he wore skinny jeans. It was pretty obvious that something was going on between him and Patrick, so naturally Pete clung to the others side.
The taller boy next to him with brown hair and a little scruff was Jon. He played the xylophone and was really good friends with both Brendon and Spencer, but he was standing rather close to Spencer to be natural. Closing out the circle was Jersey, the crazy trombonist. He had snake bits, crazy black hair and thick framed glasses, making him hard to miss.
So the circle of friends all chatted away, catching up on summer tails and discussing the marching show for this up coming year. Even Gabe enthused about the show -which he normally didn't- that is, until William came throw the door. Even across the room, his presence made Gabe stop talking.
"God Gabe, pick your jaw up off of the floor" the short, dark haired boy teased, punching Gabe in the arm playfully.
"I have no clue what you are talking about," Gabe defended himself.
"Whatever dude! Gabe and Bilvy sitting in a tree..." Brendon sang.
"SHUT UP DUDE." the taller one nearly shouted, and he was serious. He was furiously trying to quiet his friends as William gracefully walked across the room.
"Sorry man!"
"It's okay..."
William saw all of his friends in a circle and walked up with a particularly big grin on his face.
"Hey," William started, manly facing Gabe's direction. The skinny boys long brown hair -not that they weren't all skinny, he was just the skinniest- fell into his face as he spoke.
"Hey," Gabe was the first to reply.
What broke everybody's train of thought was Mr. Reed clapping, causing everyone to stop talking and when he shouted "Band Ten Hut!" Everyone rushed to attention and quickly replied, "Hut Two!"
"Alright everyone, parade rest please." The older man commanded, allowing everyone to relax again once he had their attention. "Welcome back, vets. I'm glad to see you've returned! I hope you can help to make the rookies feel at home over the next year. Before we begin, I need to go over a few things," Mr. Reed began, standing at his podium and speaking enthusiasticly.
Brendon wasn't really sure what Mr. Reed was discussing but he was pretty sure it was about fees and such. He stopped listening and, well, caring about the teacher's rambles and instructions. It took him longer than normal but he finally realized that Ryan wasn't at camp that day - that is until the boy barged through the door, nearly falling onto the ground.
The fragile boy stood with wide eyes as everyone's attention dawned towards him. He shuffled towards the back of the room quietly with his head down, avoiding all of the eyes staring at him.
"Did I miss anything?" Ryan whispered into Brendon's ear as he came up behind the dark haired
boy.
"Nothing, nothing at all," Brendon replied with a grin on his face because, hello, Ryan was talking to him even though he stood him up last Friday.
"Okay, thanks."
**
After Mr. Reed finished talking, it was time to go and practice and now walking over to the baseball field, Brendon had a bigger crowd. Ryan though, was not apart of it. Brendon wasn't going to complain though because things were working out a lot better than he imagined. So he walks down the sidewalk with his saxophone case in one hand, a water bottle in the other, a small band drawstring bag on his back and his friends trailing behind him and he's a pretty happy guy.
Normally, everyone was to meet at the field first thing, but today was an exception to this rule because they had meet in the band room first. Normally, practice is started at the field, rather than detouring to the band room first thing. Most of the kids with cars just parked near the field when they had practice.
Brendon never really imagined himself in this position. When they get to the field, he gets to start the rehearsal. He gets to lead and tell everyone what to do. The power was astonishing and Brendon wasn't sure just how to handle it yet. Being the band captain seemed like a dream, a fantasy, but it was real. He could do what he wanted and talk as much as he wanted. He could correct and punish and bark orders.
The hardest part about being a captain would be to not overstep those boundaries.
As everyone gather onto the sideline of the make-shift football field (painted on the back end of the baseball diamond), Brendon helped set up what was needed for rehearsal. This included Gabe's podium, the speaker, and the yard markers.
The grass was soft, and had that freshly cut smell to it. Bright white football lines were painted onto the grass, showing great contrast between that of the green grass. It was a nice day to have band camp, the skies were a nice blue with just enough clouds to cover the sun, but not cause it to rain.
The band members settle themselves on the sideline, setting their stuff in groups of sections. It was pretty chaotic, band members playing, chatting, and running around with no control.
"Attention please!" Brendon shouted towards the mass of kids. "We are going to form a warm-block now. It will go score order and the section leaders will stand at the end, so section leaders, if you will."
All of the section leaders, starting with Cassadee, stood at a different yard line. The flutes started on the right 20 yard line, continuing in score order to the left. Each section leader was faced toward the sideline, with their section in a row behind them. After it was all set up, Brendon went back to the front of the block and next to Gabe.
"We are going to start with some stretches!" Brendon enthused, looking over at Gabe who grinned back. "Set your instruments down."
"Left arm across!" Gabe demonstrated by holding his left arm straight across his chest with his right arm holding it, which was bent at the elbow, fist pointing upwards.
The whole band -and Brendon- mimicked the movement and held the stance until Gabe put his arm down.
The two boys went through the rest of the warm-ups with the band afterwards and then everyone took a lap around the length of the baseball field -around the perimeter of the fence.
"Okay, make two lines guys!" Gabe shouted, walking with Brendon to the side of the football field to form the lines. Everyone -cautiously avoiding the instruments- walked over to form the two lines. When they were set, Brendon and Gabe began to run, leading the band around the field.
When they returned to the front side-line where all of their belongings -except their instruments which were still in the block-, the whole band took a water brake. Brendon was standing near the podium with Gabe, looking around at all the warn out kids. His eye caught Ryan's and they both immediately looked away.
***
It was an hour into fundamentals and it was way to hot for this. Despite the breeze they had earlier in the day, the clouds quickly disappeared, leaving the sun to blister down on the band. Everyone was standing in the warm-up block they had earlier, standing at attention with their instruments.
One of the staff members, Mr. Westly, was running the fundamental block, making the band march whatever commands he decided to throw at them.
"Again! Forward eight, back eight, forward eight, left eight, back eight, right eight halt! Repeat!" Mr. Westly shouted, pacing back and forth next to the whole band.
Every kid in band - that showed up that day - were on the football field, either on a yard line or halfway and evenly spaced left to right. It was basically a giant box of band geeks.
In unison with the cowbell Mr. Westly was beating with a drumstick, the whole band repeated the command and then executed it. Some of the kids -manly rookies- stumbled or got off step, but the recovery was good. It really wasn't bad for the first day.
It was the fifth time in a row Mr. Weslty made the band do this drill, but he slowed down the tempo to half of the original tempo. Mr. Westly tapped the cowbell at 60 BPM -or the rate of the second hand on a clock. The slower tempo called for more control over the body, it was much easier to fall at this tempo.
Luckily for Brendon, he didn't have to do fundamentals. Being the captain, the officer was aloud to walk around and critic the other band members on their marching. It was weird to do so though, because Brendon didn't want to correct his friends on their mistakes. Walking within the block, he passed by Ryan, who avoided all eye-contact.
After the last run, they were allowed a two minute water break.
"Breendoooon!" Gabe stressed the vowels in the captain's name as he trudged over from where he was getting off of his podium.
"Hmm?" the shorter boy hummed at his best friend. Instead of a reply, Gabe just leaned his weight on Brendon, nearly knocking him over.
"Where did William go?" the moping boy stood up straight, using his shirt as a fan to cool of his body. Every time the white material flew up, his tan skin was shown and it was already shades lighter than his arms and legs from the sun exposure last week.
"The pit had to stay inside, remember? You don't pay attention to anything dude."
"What's the pit?"
Brendon smacked his forehead. "The pit is the percussion on the side line smart one. William plays the timpani, the giant drums."
"Oh! Okay, I know what your talking about."
They both laughed as they grabbed up their water bottles off of the side line. The band seemed like it was going to be surprisingly good this year.
<-Five.Seven.->