That night they were on the road to Chicago by eight o'clock. The band would be playing two shows in Chicago at Wintrust Arena. With a number of stops along the way, Gabe spent most of the time in his bunk to avoid the pestiferous presence that was Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

The roadies were spread out over four tour buses. Unfortunately, Gabe got stuck in the same bus with Ryan, Drew and Jordan.

He didn't really believe in having friends in this job but if he did, those three were the closest Gabe had to it. The other boys often kept to themselves or were younger and preferred to stick to their own groups.

They drove for over twelve hours. Instead of taking them to the hotel when they arrived, the tour bus drove straight to the arena that TSA would be playing next.

The roadies had managed to catch a few hours of sleep in their bunks. It was an expectation that they could work with only a few hours of sleep at the time. Gabe had only been on two tours with the band, but each time he would go home and sleep for days when it was over.

Having mastered the routine by now, the stage was up within four hours and the various necessary OHS tests had been completed. Gabe was talking to James, the lighting technician, when Mark appeared beside him.

"Gabe," he said. "The boys are finishing their run-through and one of the drums needs tuning. Can you go fix it please?"

"I'm finishing with the lights," Gabe growled. "Get someone else to do it."

"Gabe," Mark said sternly, causing Gabe to look up. "He's asking for you."

With a twisted look of confusion, Gabe set down the device he'd been using and made his way towards the main stage.

A number of people were strewn across the stage conducting lighting tests, sound checks and more, but the drum kit was momentarily deserted.

Letting out a sound of annoyance, Gabe made his way over to the drum kit and began experimentally tapping each one to find the out-of-tune culprit.

"It's this one."

Gabe's head jerked up to where the dark-haired drummer had appeared and was pointing to the snare drum.

Without a word, Gabe made his way over to the drum. He lifted it off its stand and placed it on the floor in front of him.

Beginning to adjust the tension rods, he looked up at Harley with a scowl. "Can't you do this yourself?"

"I can." he said. "I wanted you to."

Not even beginning to try and comprehend his reasoning, Gabe set to work tuning the drum, twisting each peg to the desired position.

"Why me?" he spoke after a minute.

Harley looked down at him from where his gaze was focused downstage. "What?"

Gabe twisted another peg. "You requested me. Why?"

Looking up at him, Gabe noticed a glint and saw that the drummer had a small eyebrow piercing. Gabe couldn't recall noticing it when they first met but it was dark then.

"Because it's your job."

"I was busy," Gabe said in annoyance. "Any one of the road crew could've done this."

Harley shrugged. "And yet, here you are."

Rolling his eyes, Gabe didn't dignify his answer with a response and simply finished tuning the drum. He placed it back on the stand before rising to his feet.

"Is there anything else?" he asked unpleasantly.

Harley shook his head and Gabe nodded and turned to leave. "Right."

"Wait."

Gabe turned around and Harley nodded in his direction. "Thankyou."

"Don't mention it." the roadie mumbled in response and walked away.

That night, and the night after, the band played brilliantly. They had a brief session before and after the show where a number of fans were awarded backstage passes for a meet-and-greet.

With over one thousand screaming fans leaving the building after the second show, the crew was ready to bump-out and get to work immediately.

Machines were used to disassemble the stage and pack it into the waiting trucks. As soon as they were loaded, the trucks would be on the road to Louisville.

They worked quickly, given the late hour, with the tour manager barking out orders from every direction. Gabe gripped a microphone stand tightly in order to restrain himself from punching the manager.

The band had made their way backstage long ago and were beginning to stir up a ruckus with their mile-high adrenaline rush from the show. Gabe watched as one of the senior roadies shooed Tyler away as he skipped around them.

Throwing a cable into a box, Gabe went to pick up an instrument stand when a hand is placed on his shoulder and a sultry voice whispered huskily, "What do you say Gabe? Up for it tonight?"

Gabe turned to face a sweaty and grinning Tyler, meeting the singer's excitement with an unimpressed scowl. "I've got tonnes to do tonight."

"We'll be quick," Tyler grinned. "Just need to let off a little steam after that. Besides," He leaned in close to whisper in the roadie's ear, his eyes going dark. "This is your job."

With a roll of his eyes, Gabe met his gaze. "Fine, but this better be quick."

"You got it."

He slapped Tyler's hand away when offered, as though Gabe would publicly flaunt their pending activity by holding his hand like it's an achievement. He may have this job for a reason but Gabe would be damned if he couldn't hold on to his dignity while doing so.

The other boys whistle and call to one another as they passed. Tyler grinned like an idiot and Gabe knew his ego would be on the same level as his adrenal excitement.

As they go, Gabe looked around briefly and noted the missing band member once again. He was met with a tonne of stares and quite a few winks and smirks, all of which he rejected with a glare.

Tyler led them out the back to a waiting car. They rode back to the hotel and take the elevator to the band member's room.

Tyler wasted no time getting started and soon enough they were tangled in a mess of bourbon-tasting kisses and a heat that would turn cold by morning.

Tyler's lips danced across Gabe's collarbone and with a loud groan, Gabe flipped them over and smirked when Tyler looked up at him in surprise. Control was something Gabe excelled at.

Soon enough Tyler's surprise dissolved into a collected smirk. "I forget that you like it rough, Gabe. Well in that case, let's make some friction."

It's over soon enough with Tyler passed out beside him, soft snores filling out the room. His brown hair was a mess and Gabe had to wonder if he looked the same or worse.

Slipping on his jeans, Gabe retrieved his shirt and fixed his hair in the mirror before leaving the room to head back to the stadium.

He didn't leave a message as they all knew how this situation worked. Gabe didn't need Tyler or anyone else's permission and he didn't need Gabe's to leave, no questions asked.

When he got back Gabe received more immature cat-calls that he responded to with heated glares before returning to his work from earlier.

"He got to you, didn't he?" Mark appeared beside Gabe, ruffling his hair with a laugh. "Your hair's still a mess."

Gabe pushed his hand away. "Just another night of meaningless sex. That's the job."

"That's the job." Mark echoed. "But sometimes I have to wonder how those idiots get people to sleep with them."

His tone was affectionate and Gabe knew that he was joking but it didn't stop his response that they got paid for it.

Mark clapped Gabe on the back with a smile. "You're good Gabe, we're lucky to have you."

"We as in the crew, or we as in the band to use us as their sex toys?"

Mark stared at him for a moment before a grin broke out on his face. "I've heard you're a killer Gabe and I'll admit it's one of the reasons I picked you. Don't lose your fire kid, it makes you very very valuable."

"Thanks." Gabe replied with animosity and heaved a stage box into the truck.

Mark watched as he placed another crate into the truck before taking his leave. Shaking his head, Gabe resumed his job whilst trying to ignore the ache in his stomach, and the even bigger one in his chest.

***

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