Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Still So Young, Desperate For Attention

The Epic Battle of Middle Tummy

by alyssaatthedisco 4 Reviews

The human race is a complex and philosophical mystery that has stumped the wisest of men. Amelie and the guys of Panic! are no acception. Sorry about the summary. Didn't quite know what to say.

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: G - Genres: Angst, Drama, Humor, Romance - Characters:  - Published: 2006/12/30 - Updated: 2006/12/31 - 2940 words

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The show was going great. For the most part, everything was on time and going well. Only a few mishaps, which was to be expected because it was a live show. Amelié couldn't remember the last time she had so much fun. The first time she walked out on that stage, there were people as far as she could see. Just moving blurs, all of which were screaming. Most of them were teenage girls, their faces painted up like the make-up the band usually sported. The most common t-shirts found were not tour t-shirts, but in face any t-shirt of any color with either Brendon or Ryan's face on it, with the occasional Spencer and Jon mixed in with the crowd- normally in a group of their own.

Whenever she was on stage, she was behind the speakers, so she could hear all of the screaming and the "I love you"'s from the teenage to prepubescent crowd of mostly females. She took note of her surroundings: what she was doing, what her dancers were doing, what needed to be fixed in the routines and who wasn't putting in 110%. Whenever she was backstage, she was hastily changing into her next costume, fixing her make-up and shouting orders and directions at her dancers, helping them with problems as well. One of the girls tripped and sprained her ankle on stage and was now sitting on the floor crying, a bag of ice on her swelled foot, another girl standing over her, trying to provide comfort.

"What's going on?" She ran over, tying her white point shoes as she did.

"She tripped over her skirt. Her ankle is the size of a balloon " This was all said in rather a quick hurry as everything was done in a hurry backstage. Amelié gently lifted the bag off her ankle to see the damage.

"Okay, I don't want you dancing on that. It's okay, we'll manage without you. In the meantime, see if you can change out of your costume. I have no idea who the seamstress is, or if there is one. Leave it in the dressing room near my station with a post it on it and I'll hem it." She put the bag of ice back down and had the other girl help her in moving the injured girl to a chair out of the way of trampling feet that were running back and forth with too many cares to wonder what they stepped on.

Her cue was coming up and she had to be on stage. She was a little worried for a split second, because this was the song with the instrumental intermission where Brendon was going to be helping her. She didn't know if he would be able to do it after all that singing and bouncing around, but she would see. Whatever happened would happen.

"Come on guys, places " She called behind her as she took her place, ready to run out onto the stage. The beat in the song came where she knew her cue was, but she noted that she came out a fraction too early, remembering to correct that. For this dance, her costume was at first- a long white 1930's inspired dress with a train. When she got near Brendon, he would put his hand on her waist and pull a loop on the skirt as he twirled her, leaving a fluttering piece of white material in Brendon's hand and a just above the knee length flowing white frock in it's place. The pearls around Amelié's neck flew wildly when she spun, adding to the effect. Her hand (the one hand that was gloved in white satin up to the elbow) was raised in the air, doing a little wave. When she finished twirling, Brendon got down on his knee as if he was proposing and locked his elbow into a bend, holding her hand the whole time to brace her. She bent forward, towards him, went on tip toe and raised her left leg high in the air so that her legs here a vertical line. Another thing to note, Brendon used his right arm to steady her. That needed to be corrected. It was blocking his face from the audience and needed to be the left arm so that they could see what he was doing- winking at her and blowing a kiss. She made a big dramatic mime gasp and covered her mouth with the gloved hand. The dance continued on with Amelié dancing around Brendon and doing different leaps and steps. Then came the lift. She did her lead up, giving him lots of speed to go off of, but one of his hands slipped and she fell sideways on her foot, but she did a little twirl, trying to make it look good. She continued on doing a little improved swing dance with Brendon as he tried to stare a huge apology at her. She nodded and went back into the routine, leaping her way off stage.

She knew her ankle was hurting a little, but she didn't have time for it and she didn't have a stand in, so she changed into her next costume- a glossy white vintage looking babydoll with a boy-flattering tie below her hips. The dress was square looking but flowed with her, flattering her shape. The tie came just below her torso, which is what made the dress so 1920's. It had spaghetti straps and only came down to just a little past the bow, which wasn't very far. She fixed her make-up, making it very dark and flapper girl, penciling in thick, dark eyebrows, making them longer, giving herself a dark ring of eyeliner around her eyes, over rouging her cheeks and dark cupid lips, putting concealer over the rest of the showing lips. All of this was done in a span of 2 minutes and she was back on stage dancing.

Forty-five minutes later, the show ended and the fans started to pour out into the streets. Brendon poked his head into the crowded dressing room that the dancers shared, looking for Amelié.

"Awesome job everyone! It was amazing." He clapped loudly. "Elly, can I see you for a second?" He jabbed his finger towards the door, letting her know he would be waiting out there for her, and two seconds later, his head disappeared from the dressing room door. She nodded her head, taking off her point shoes before she went, as her ankle was swelling slightly and the ribbons were cutting off the circulation going to her foot.

"Hi!" She smiled, still pumped from the show when she bounced around the corner to see Brendon standing against the wall waiting for her.

"Elly!" He smiled back, lifting her into a giant hug to the point where her feet left the ground. "I'm really sorry about that dance. My hand slipped, I'm really sorry. I know you've been working really hard on the choreography and I screwed it up." She shushed him, putting a finger on his lips.

"Bren, it's okay. I didn't expect it to go perfectly, it never does. I was just going for as perfect as we can get it, and that was it. We'll improve it, don't worry. I know you didn't mean to let go. Accidents happen." She smiled, fixing the collar of his vest, which was all sweaty. He gave a toothy relieved grin.

"Are you hurt at all? You stumbled a little when you fell." He looked her over, trying to see she wasn't broken.

"I'm okay, I promise. I just landed funny. My ankle is a little stiff, but that's it." She took his hand while she was talking and did a twirl under his arm as she lifted it up, then pulled out of the twirl and joined her other hand with his, making him waltz with her. "Oh!" She exclaimed, but there is one thing I wanted to talk to you about." She continued to waltz down the hall with him. "During the instrumental, when you get down on your knee and hold me steady, can you use your other hand to hold mine? It blocks you from the screaming girls and they can't see what you're doing."

"Of course. Yeah, not a problem." They crossed a doorway and a breeze rippled over Amelié's legs and décolleté.

"Oh dear. I just realized I'm dancing around half naked in hallways full of people." She flushed pink and broke the unified frame that they held together. He let his arms fall as she consciously tugged at the hem of her dress, trying to make it longer. He laughed.

"Okay, you run along to your dressing room and change. You and the rest of the dancers are invited out for a party in an hour." He watched as she ran back to the room, again, pulling her dress down as she went. She changed quickly into her skirt and light top, not bothering with her make-up, as none of the others were. The dancers were so busy talking that most only had on leg or arm the their chosen garments and were sitting or standing around laughing and yelling to each other. She knew her voice was too quiet to carry over the din and so she stood on a chair at the front of the room and puts two fingers in her mouth, whistling loudly. Everything started to calm down and all faces turned to her.

"Does anyone mind if I take a few pictures?" She asked, just to make sure that all consented. All decided it would be a good idea and went back to chattering while Amelié moved back to her station, at the very back corner and took out her expensive camera, setting the focus and lens setting before wandering about the room, snapping photos here and there. Before she knew it, her memory card was starting to fill up- an arm here, a leg there, painted and powdered faces caught in perpetual laughs and wide toothy grins, hugs and tears, high fives and stretching. When she couldn't take anymore and knew things were starting to wind down again, she got back up on the chair, her camera dangling from her neck, giving another quick whistle.

"That was an awesome show tonight guys. I'm really proud of you all and I you should be too." She pumped them up and they all cheered and hollered with pride, but she couldn't let them off that easily. "But, come on guys..settle down." She waited. "That doesn't mean we don't have stuff to clean up. Myself included. I know I have to hem Marlee's skirt because she tripped and hurt herself, does anyone else need adjustments?" She asked. A few others raised their hands. Some needed hemming, some needed stitching because they were ripped or damaged. She collected them in her arms and listed some of the things that she saw that needed to be corrected. "So far tomorrow's practice, that is what we'll work on." She paused, looking around and noticing they were starting to look a little more humble now, and she decided it to raise their spirits again. "Well, what are you waiting for? We have a party to get to with the guys of Panic!" She yelled and they roared wildly when they heard they were invited. Everyone started moving around again, gathering all of their things and making their way outside, trying to find out where the party was. The room had emptied rather quickly and Amelié sat down in a chair, pulling it over to where her pile of costumes were sitting, pulling one off the top and getting out her little needle and thread that she always carried in her dance bag for just such emergencies. It took her half an hour on Marlee's skirt alone because of how slow she had to do it, with nothing but a little needle and no sewing machine. It was getting quiet, the only sound around her was in the arena itself as the stage was being taken apart and the lighting equipment being packed away into the trucks.

"I'd chime in haven't you people ever heard of closing the god damn door" Amelié jumped as her phone rang, making her stab herself with the needle.

"Ow! Shit." She watched for a second as a drop of blood formed and fell from her finger before she found her phone to answer it. It was Ryan. He wanted to know where she was, and she could hear him talking not only through the phone, but also just in the hall.

"Walk about five paces forward, turn into the doorway on your left." She waited for him to do that and watched as his figure appeared in the doorway, not immediately seeing her behind her mound of clothes. He laughed and shook his head in wonderment, closing his phone and going to sit beside her, pulling up another stool.

"Hey." He smiled in greeting. "Why aren't you at the party?" He asked, looking at all the clothes.

"A few of the dancers had some wardrobe malfunctions, and I didn't know if you had a seamstress, and I want them fixed now because my dancers are getting hurt."

"So, you elected to stay behind and fix all the costumes." Ryan finished.

"Exactly." She shrugged. "What about you? Why aren't you at the party?" She asked, going back to sewing, trying not to let her finger bleed all over the garment.

"Well I was, but then I noticed you weren't there. Without you there, everyone was drunk. It was kind of nice having someone who was on my side for awhile." He picked up one of the finished costumes and hung it on the rack for her.

"Awwww!" She sank lower in her chair, feeling slightly guilty that she didn't go.

"It's okay, don't feel guilty." He seemed to read her mind, giving her a big smile. "That's why I came to find you. You throw some wicked parties, even though you don't have anything to drink." She let out a short burst of a laugh, even though it was quiet.

"Would you be referring to last night's party?" She leaned back against the wall, still sewing.

"Indeed I would. That was a wild party. I don't even remember it all and I wasn't drinking." He laughed.

"Yeah, but that was a huge sugar overload. I mean, I don't know how you hair got like that, I don't know who covered my face in blush, but it was pretty funny. Not so fun to get off, but funny." He laughed again, leaning back on the vanity. "You know, I have no idea what happened and when..." She said thoughtfully. "But I'm pretty sure we all had a part in drawing on Brendon's stomach. I mean, it took more than one person to think up the Epic Battle of Middle Tummy." They both enjoyed another laugh.

"Yeah, that was a stroke of genius." He laughed, picking up the costume she just finished and putting it on the rack under the appropriate name of the dancer. For hours, he sat there, actually helping her sew the costumes and look for rips and tears and putting them back, and they talked like they had been best friends for years. There wasn't a lull in the conversation at all. They talked about everything from the band members, to the dancers, to different foods and restaurants and then themselves, but very little, as they were both a lot alike, not wanting to talk about themselves. They were just cleaning up the garbage left by the dancers when Ryan got a video message on his cell phone. He tried to watch it, but it just looked like a bunch of flashing lights and four three outlines and noise.

"How many times to I have to tell them I can't understand their video messages when they go to clubs?" He ended the message and shook his head in disbelief. "I'm guessing they want us to join the party, but frankly, I don't feel like partying." Amelié shook her head.

"Me neither. I did, at first, but I'm getting more relaxed now." He agreed. "We could just go back to my hotel room and hang out?" She offered, knowing he wouldn't take that the wrong way.

"Yeah. Sounds good to me." He got up, stretching as he did, showing off a little of his stomach as his shirt went up, not to mention the rim of his boxers.

When the other band members came back to the hotel, they found Ryan and Amelié sitting on the floor in her room between the tv and the bed playing a game of slap jack but doing more laughing then slapping. Harry Potter was blaring on the television, but getting no attention.
All of their make-up was washed off and they were both in their pyjama's, having the grandest time. They decided to sit there and play a game of crazy eights countdown and then thought it was time for bed, since that was two long night in a row.

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A/N: Okay, so thar be the seventh chaptar. I have no idea why I've decided to say "ar" instead of "er", but it's amusing me. I've been sitting at the computar for a VERY long time now on this chaptar, and I must say, I don't think it's too shabby. I'm also trying to make up for the last chaptar being so short. So um.. enjoy! :D

~Alyssa
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