CATEGORY: Fluff
FEATURING: antisocial!Tyler and musician!Josh
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Use of ALCOHOL and LANGUAGE! This fic is pretty safe though
PROMPT: Tyler goes to a bar to see a local band, and quickly develops a crush on Josh, the drummer.
WORD COUNT: Approximately 1,900

Tyler is at the library when his phone rings.

The librarian, and a few nearby patrons, shoot him dirty looks. His phone is supposed to be on vibrate, but he so rarely gets calls or texts that he didn't bother. Embarrassed, Tyler quickly leaves the main library area and ducks into the men's room to take the call.

"Hey Tyler!" He's greeted with the voice of his sometimes-best-friend, Brendon. "Man, you took forever to pick up."

"I was in the library."

"Do you ever not study?" Tyler can practically hear Brendon shaking his head in pity. "You must have knowledge coming out your ass by now."

To be perfectly honest, Tyler studies quite frequently. He needs good grades if he's going to get a good job later on. He doesn't respond to Brendon's jibe.

"Anyway," Brendon continues, "I'm going to a bar later tonight to see Dallon's band, you interested?"

"Neither of us is twenty-one yet, Brendon."

"It's fine, I know a guy. We'll get in."

"I don't really drink."

"Aw, come on, Ty," Brendon coaxes. "You've got to loosen up a little. Do you really want to look back at your college days and see yourself sitting on your ass studying the whole time?"

Tyler glances at the book in his hands. American History: Original and Secondary Source Readings. "I guess not."

"Good. I'll meet you outside at nine. The band starts about fifteen minutes after, so don't be late." And with that, Brendon hangs up the phone.

Tyler never did ask which bar Dallon's band was playing at, but it isn't difficult to guess: there's only one popular bar in town. It's simply titled Pete's, and it's the bar that Tyler knows Brendon and his popular friends go to.

He's never been to a bar before, really, so he doesn't entirely know what to wear. He isn't much one for fashion, so he's never worried too much about his clothes. He finally settles on a large white tank top with huge holes for sleeves, a pair of black skinny jeans, and black close-toed shoes. It's probably not what everyone else is wearing, but it'll be fine.

When he arrives at the bar, he parks on the street, which is already almost full of cars. He gets out and goes to the entrance, where Brendon is waiting.

"Finally. Ready to go in?"

Tyler shrugs. "I guess."

Brendon lightly shoves his friend's shoulder, sighing. "Lighten up. Seriously." Tyler decides not to point out that was a bit of an oxymoron.

He follows Brendon to the bar's entrance, where a man covered in tattoos is waiting. He has short, almost red hair, and a beard that's of the same shade. Tyler thinks that, without all the tattoos and the menacing sunglasses, he'd look like a nice guy.

"ID's, please," the guy says. His voice is softer than Tyler would have thought.

"You know me," Brendon says, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. Tyler is a bit nervous, so he stays quiet and lets Brendon use his charismatic charm on the man.

"I don't know him," the man comments, gesturing with an arm to Tyler.

He's my buddy, and he doesn't drink, anyway," Brendon argues. "Come on, we're just here to see the band. Please?"

The man hesitates. Tyler thinks that he's going to make them leave, but finally he just sighs. "Don't tell anyone I let you in."

"Thanks, Andy, you're the best." Brendon grabs Tyler's arm and practically drags him into the bar. Tyler's not sure, but he thinks he sees Andy give him a sympathetic look.

The bar is loud, with music blaring over loudspeakers. It's dark, and Tyler blinks a few times to adjust his eyes to the dimness. It's crowded, and there are people everywhere, from the bar itself to the tables scattered throughout the room to the area in front of the empty stage, where a few people are dancing to the music. Tyler wonders how much they've had to drink.

"I'm gonna go find Dallon," Brendon shouts over the loud music. "Get yourself a drink or something!" He quickly disappears into the crowd, and Tyler is left alone.

He just stands there for a moment, unsure what to do. Finally, he goes to the bar and seats himself upon an available barstool. Thankfully, there's nobody sitting on either side of him, so he doesn't feel too awkward.

"Can I get something for you?" the barkeep asks, approaching Tyler from the other side of the counter. Surprisingly, he doesn't look tough like Tyler would have expected. In fact, he looks rather nice. He's slightly pudgy, with orange hair, a pair of black glasses, and a fedora. His name tag reads 'Patrick'.

Tyler chooses a drink at random, one Patrick says is lighter, alcohol-wise, and he takes a few smaller sips. He's only been drunk once, at a party Brendon convinced him to go to. He didn't like the feeling; everything was disoriented and confusing, and afterwards he felt sick. Since then, he only drinks lightly, when Brendon drags him along to some social event he's not interested in.

Sometimes, Tyler wonders why he's friends with Brendon, but he soon reminds himself that it's because nobody else ever bothers to talk to him.

"Hey, man!" Speak of the devil.

"Hey," Tyler responds simply. As Brendon orders two drinks, Tyler sees that someone is with him, a tall, brown-haired guy he recognizes as Dallon. When their drinks arrive, they clink their glasses together, and Tyler feels a pang of jealousy in his stomach. He wishes he had a partner. Not a drinking partner, but somebody he could trust, share interests and conversations with.

He mentally scolds himself for getting overly sentimental.

"I'd better get going, I think our drummer's almost done setting up." Dallon nods to Tyler, finishes off his drink, and puts his empty glass on the counter. "Nice seeing you guys."

"See you after the set?" Brendon asks, snaking an arm around Dallon to give him a half hug.

Dallon grins and nods. "You bet."

Tyler and Brendon sit together at a table not too far from the edge of the stage. Many other people have gathered close as well as Dallon takes the stage alongside his guitarist and drummer.

Lots of people cheer as the band, called Panic! Pilots, launches into their first song, which Brendon tells Tyler is called "London Beckoned Songs About Money Written By Heathens". Kind of a wordy title, in Tyler's opinion.

He has to admit, though, they're pretty good. Dallon has a great voice, and the guitarist, whom Tyler recognizes as Spencer, a friend of Brendon's, is talented as well with his guitar. The one member of the band that really catches Tyler's eye, though, is the drummer, whom Tyler has never seen before. He has bright yellow hair, neon yellow, like a highlighter. He wears a red snapback, a black t-shirt, red shorts, and red shoes. His drumming is rather intense; he looks as if he is putting everything he has into each song. Halfway through the set, he takes off his shirt, which makes Tyler stare even more than he already was, no matter how hard he tries not to. (A/N: Same, Tyler)

After the band finishes with their final song, "Northern Trees", Tyler applauds with everyone else. I hope I can meet the drummer....

The band dismounts the stage, spreading into the crowd. Tyler can see the boy with the highlighter hair moving through the crowd and heading for the bar.

When Tyler gets there, however, the drummer is surrounded by a small crowd of three or four girls. The boy's heart sinks, and instead of trying to approach the drummer anyway, he goes to sit at the other end of the bar.

The girls are seemingly relentless. Tyler can't hear what they're saying, but it's pretty clear that they're flirting with the drummer, and he isn't exactly pushing them off of him. Every once in a while, he'll speak, and the small group of girls erupts into giggling.

Tyler decides that now would be a great time to get another drink.

"Are you doing okay?"

Tyler has had a few drinks by now. He isn't drunk, but he's teetering on the edge of it. He looks to Patrick, the person who spoke. "No, not really."

"What's wrong?" Patrick leans his arm against the counter.

Tyler shakes his head a little. "This is kind of stereotypical, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"Lone guy at the bar, telling the barkeep all his problems."

Patrick smiles a little. "Some girl do you wrong?"

"Nope. I'm actually into the drummer."

Patrick just nods, not seeming to be terribly surprised. "You've been glancing over to him all night. I was wondering what was up."

"I saw him perform." Tyler rubs the back of his neck. "I was going to go over to him after the set ended, but he got swarmed by some girls."

"That sucks." Patrick's voice is sympathetic. "He seems to be alone now, though."

Tyler looks over, and sure enough, all the girls are gone. They must have disappeared while he was talking to Patrick. He's pretty sure he can see them on the other side of the bar, now surrounding Spencer. Tyler's heart lifts up a bit.

"Go talk to him," Patrick says, giving Tyler a gentle, good-natured shove in the drummer's general direction.

"What if he's not gay?" Despite Tyler's attraction to the drummer, he's still a bit reluctant. He really doesn't want to get rudely shut down.

"You'll never know until you ask," Patrick insists. "Go on!"

"Alright, alright." Tyler hops off the bar stool and walks over to the drummer, who's checking his phone. Almost hesitantly, Tyler slides into the seat next to him.

The drummer looks up from his phone. Up close, Tyler can see that he has dark brown eyes, and they look almost black in the dark blue lights of the bar. He's wearing his shirt again, which clings to him, and Tyler realizes his hair is lightly damp with sweat. Drumming must be great exercise.

Tyler swallows. "Hi."

The drummer smiles. Tyler mentally remarks how nice of a smile he has. "Hey."

"You, um." Tyler can feel the blush creeping across his cheeks. "I was watching you guys play. You're a really good drummer."

The drummer smiles wider. "Thank you." He holds out his hand to Tyler. "I'm Josh Dun."

Tyler shakes his hand. Josh's hands are calloused and rough, unlike his own, which are small and soft. "Tyler Joseph."

Josh turns off his phone and looks to Tyler. He hopes this is a good sign.

"I can see you've got a lot of fans," Tyler starts. He finds himself thinking about the girls that were practically swarming Josh earlier, and he feels jealousy twist his stomach.

"Yeah," Josh shrugs. "I don't know if they like the music so much, though."

"I like the music," Tyler blurts out.

Worry immediately fills him, but Josh grins. "Thank you." He pauses. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Water, please," Tyler says, relieved.

Maybe going to this bar wasn't such a terrible idea after all.