What's up kids, your mother is here and she is back with a kick-ass amazing first chapter and hopefully a better writing style because I re-read the first couple of chapters of Brendon. Last night and shessssh I am glad to say that I have at least gotten better with how I write.

Anyway! I would like o start with a massive thank you and congratulations if you've made it this far? And I would like to say that I have so much in store, some ideas that were suggested to me early on in Brendon. will be coming to light *hint hint, nudge nudge* and I hope you all enjoy!

Please shower this first chapter with loads of comments!

Enjoy!

"A little help would be great, Brendon."

"You're doing a brilliant job, Dallon, I wouldn't want to mess up your...thing."Brendon is waving at hand over his shoulder, eyes glued to the rectangle screen of Dallons phone, which should honestly be renamed to Brendon's phone because Brendon is never on it and probably knows how to use it better than what Dallon does. Brendon knows how to good simple things, like take selfies and how to use up Dallons call credit, but everything else is a mystery to Brendon.

The living room is a tip, and Dallon swears that his wardrobe only talks up 10% of the clothes that have been neatly folded on the floor, on the coffee table, on the sofas and ready to be thrown into the open suitcases that lay on the carpeted flooring. Dallons stage clothes are provided for him at wardrobe, what clothes he does pack is for comfort, for sleeping, for if he actually gets free time to roam while he's out on tour.

Tour. The word along makes the hairs on the back of Dallons neck stand up and his chest tighten in that familiar, unfamiliar feeling of fear that's been nestled inside of him since the last tour. Dallon shouldn't really be surprised, the album drop was a success and Dallon has been overwhelmed with the amount of support, from fans new and old, Music artists and even old band mates that have come forward to praise Dallon.

He can still remember the day he got the phone call, the string of praising messages and run of tweets that there was an announcement of his tour, sweeping Brendon off of his feet and kissed him senseless up against the kitchen counter.

"Dallon, what does this say?"Brendon is kneeling over the back of the sofa, Dallons mobile phone raised high in the air to try and shove it into Dallons passing face.

"I'm a bit busy here, Brendon."

"You're just throwing clothes into suitcases, that doesn't look like being busy."The hybrid leans lazily over the back of the sofa, arm still hung up in the air but body slouched over as his kitten tail sways behind him, hitting off either side of the sofa.

"Our taxi arrives in two hours and you didn't pack! Of course I'm fucking busy!"He stresses, throwing a hoodie into the suitcase and suddenly uncaring of the neatness of it all because he just wants to get the packing finished so that he can run off last minute checks around the house, and things like their passports and insurance.

"I did pack! Look!"Without any shame and full power in his voice, Brendon is lifting up his favoured, perfectly decorated backpack that's been filled with Sinatra The Giraffe, Freddie The Blue Bird, some other important little stuff and clean underwear. He's pretty proud of his backpack, he had packed it that morning with all of the important stuff that he needed for their travel on the road.

"Um, clothes?"Dallon questions, eyebrow raised as he stares between his boyfriend and their backpack.

"Um, yours?"In return, the boyfriend in question smiles sweetly at Dallon, eyes crinkling and cheeks risen and goddamnit it's the most adorable type of smile that Dallon forces himself not to look.

"Brendon, no."Dallon pauses in front of the television where he has just grabbed a pair of Brendon's shoes that had been dumped there a week ago and haven't been moved since."You're bringing your own clothes on this tour and you're wearing them. I spent good money on these clothes and you are not ruining them."

"What do you mean ruin them? Are you saying that I'm a slob? That I smell bad?"

"Brendon, I watched you take to a sip of your milkshake through a straw only for you to tip the glass onto yourself. Twice!"

"That wasn't me, you've mistaken me for someone clumsy, like Josh."Brendon blushes an embarrassed shade of red, not looking Dallon in the eye as the older man passes by the sofa once again."Now tell me what this says!"

"For god sake, you're annoying!"Dallon snatches the phone out of his pleading boyfriends hand and squints to read the string of messages, glasses thrown somewhere into a suitcase or within the mess of clothes."Pete says that those jeans make your ass look too big."

"At least I have an ass!"Brendon gasps offended, hands immediately coming to rest upon his bum protectively as if wounded."Tell them that! Tell them at least I got an ass! And it's very cute, actually. Isn't it Dallon? Tell them my ass is cute!"He roars, totally offended by Petes words because how dare they!

"I am not telling Pete that you ass is cute, especially because I was joking and they didn't say that."Dallons own cheeks are tinted pink, brushing across the delicate bridge of his nose as he looks back at the message, mumbling."It actually says that- Hey! You have no right to talk to Pete about how weird I look when I'm stressed!"

"But you do look weird! You get all puffy and red and your nostrils do that weird thing where you look like a dragon and your hair-"

"What's wrong with my hair?"Dallon pats at his hair self-consciously, feeling it stuck up in all sorts of angles since h had lacked the time to properly brush his hair that morning.

"Honey, what's not wrong with your hair."

"Don't you honey me, you shit."It's a nickname that Brendon has picked up after many many times that Tyler has said it to Josh when the puppy hybrid has did something unbelievably stupid or got into an accident or he was just using pure sarcasm and sass against him. Dallon has found it funny, but since Brendon had picked it up, it was increasingly annoying.

"I didn't mean it badly. I love your hair! You do have a bad case of bed hair but like all of the time."Brendon lets out a remarkably loud cackle of laughter as he's grabbed by the waist and is held tight as he's tickled up and down his sides, head ripped back and mouth wise open as he cackles his laughter and hits Dallons chest to stop the assault."D-Dallon!"

"My hair isn't that bad, go on, say it."Dallon can't keep the grin off of his face, cheeks aching and eyes smiling as he watches the way that Brendon squirms and cackles with laughter, trying to get away from the assault.

"But it is!"He laughs, letting out a sound of surprise as he's stumbling backwards onto the sofa with Dallon on top, toppling over the piles of neat clothing that Dallom had ironed and washed to put into the suitcase onto the floor. Dallon stops, watching as Brendon pants for breath beneath him, red faced and puffed out cheeks, hair just as messy as he claims that Dallons is and a lazy smile remaining on his face, lifting his cheeks without effort.

Brendon's beauty is without effort.

"Are you scared?"Dallon asks quietly, after a moment to let Brendon catch his breath, after a moment of Dallon just watching the way that Brendon heaves his last, lung aching sigh as he comes down from his hysterics.

"Are you scared?"Brendon points the question back to Dallon, watching the man with great interest and eyes unmoving from his boyfriends face, watching every twisting muscle and shifting eyes. Dallon is hovered above him, elbows on either side of Brendon's head but the hybrid doesn't feel enclosed, he feels safe.

And is he? Is he scared? Fuck yes. It's one thing doing little gigs in basement clubs but actually going on the road, to a different state, to a different audience, to a larger sized audience is terrifying and just the thought, of hundreds, of thousands of eyes watching your movement, your singing, listening to your voice, your music is frightening and-

But he has Brendon, which is different, because he's never had a fan so big as Brendon is. He's never had someone that has willingly sat at the side lines and cheered him on through messed up notes and forgotten song lyrics and it's a soothing anchor to Dallons nervous soul. He longs for the moment to be upon stage and to look to the side to see Brendon watching him from backstage, a grin on his face and his eyes lit up.

"I am,"Dallon admits finally, a smile wavering on his lips but beating Brendon to interrupting his next words."But it's not something I can't handle."

"Just promise me that you're not going to forgot about us."Brendon snakes his arms around Dallons neck, pulling his boyfriend closer, noses touching in a light Eskimo kiss that has Dallons heart skipping a beat in his chest.

"You're not exactly quiet, it would be hard to forget you're there."

"You know what I mean."He hits him with a sharp look.

"I won't, I promise baby."The kiss that they share is so like the others that have happened in the past, but so different at the same time. It's a kiss of love, of passion, but of a new beginning, a new chapter of their lives and it's that that makes it different and more wonderful than ever. Brendon pulls for the kiss with his arms around Dallons neck, lips moving to catch up with his boyfriends own, eager and wanting.

"I love you,"

"And I love you, but you're still helping me pack your clothes into the suitcase, Brendon."

"Just let me wear your clothes and you can buy new ones!"Brendon tries to prompt the idea because hey, Brendon loves to get new clothes, so should Dallon and then that means that he can get all of Dallons old clothes! God, he's so smart.

"Which you will steal."Dallon deadpans but with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"True, but still!"Brendon whines, bouncing impatiently on the sofa when Dallon has moved off of him and is now grabbing at his arms to yank him off he sofa. In protest, Brendon is making himself a dead weight upon the sofa and whining as he's moved."I shall not be moved until my rights are accepted!"

"What rights?"

"The right to wear my boyfriends clothes?"

"Brendon."And there's that familiar tone, the tone of fondness but frustration that seeps into Dallons voice at the word, Brendon.

"Dallon."Brendon easily mocks, the same type of tone, the same type of look on his face that mirrors Dallon exactly.

"For fuck sake,"Dallon drops Brendon's arms, bending down to the mess of piles of clothes and yanking a couple of hoodies and sweatshirts out from the piles, familiar in theme and colour to Brendon as they are held up."You can bring these 4 and that's it."

"You need to wear them first,"

"I will wear them and drown them in my aftershave, how about that?"

"Deal."

Brendon's help is more of a hinderance than anything because despite not wanting to bring any of his clothes in the first place, he suddenly wants to bring them all, which is a lot of clothing. It also doesn't help that Brendon has a habit of picking out clothes that he likes, putting them in the suitcase before changing his mind which gets incredibly on Dallon's nerves until the point that he's shooing Brendon off to get their toiletry bags as he sorts out the clothes instead.

It's just as Dallon is zipping the suitcase close that there's he horn of the taxi for them outside. Dallon has the suitcases ready for the taxi driver to put into the trunk as he does last minute checks around the house, collecting their important essentials.

"Have you got everything? Sinatra, Freddie, clothes, money, my phone-"

"Dallon, for the millionth time, yes!"Brendon interrupts, holding his backpack securely in his hand and a coat draped over his shoulder.

"I'm just making sure."The older man breathes out a heavy sigh, eyes scanning the hallway and keys fumbling in his hands, clinking metal catching at Brendon's kitten ears as they twitch. The house seems so quiet, so unmoving and eerie. There was never a moment where there wasn't a television on in the living room or a guitar being strummed upstairs and now, it lays quiet and empty and will remain that way for the next couple of months.

"This is it."Brendon whispers, staring off into open space and then slowly to Dallon who smiles softly at his boyfriend, arm curling around his waist and pulling him close into his side, lips ghosting the top of his head as he speaks.

"It's going to be here when we get back."

First chapter! This is a lot shorter than usual but it's the finest chai tee so I just had to produce something!

Please tell me what your thoughts of this first chapter!

What did you think of this chapter?

Did you think it was a good start for the sequel?

What are you hoping to happen in this fic? Please let me know, I love prompts!

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Peace✌🏼