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walked for miles 'til I found you

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walked for miles 'til I found you
American Idiot RPF; Johnny Gallagher/Theo Stockman; pg-13; 797 words
"Sorry, did I wake you?" Theo asks, even though it's kind of obvious that he did.

They all love doing the show (Aspen does have a tendency to bitch (loudly and frequently) about whatever's bothering her at the moment: the fact that Tony didn't get nominated for a Tony; that she hates sharing a tiny dressing room; that Lorin got to go on before her, but that's just who she is), even if their voices are shot by Sunday, or they need some extra time in the PT room. It's a fucking Green Day musical, and they're getting paid to be as manic as possible and swear loudly, which is pretty much Theo's dream. Yeah, the "peace, love, and happiness" vibe at Hair was pretty cool, but American Idiot? It's about five times better, and he doesn't have to play some no-dick pussy-whipped husband anymore. Fuck that.

It's just after their fourteenth straight show, and there's still one left before the final stretch. Everyone's exhausted, and it shows. Mary, who's, like, the sweetest girl ever, snapped at Theo backstage; even Gerard's hyper energy has faded. Being in the ensemble is a hell of a lot easier than not, though, and for once, Theo appreciates not getting the lead. Johnny definitely has it the worst—he looked like he was going to just collapse in the middle of "Know Your Enemy," so Theo stops in to check on him before heading out to sign and grab dinner.

Johnny's dressing room is a fucking mess, which is typical, but it's silent. Even when he's resting, he's fiddling around on his guitar or talking to Stark. Theo looks around and sees him (he can't walk into a room and not see Johnny), asleep on the couch, stripped down to his undershirt and boxers. He startles awake—Johnny's a light sleeper, and probably won't be able to get back to his nap now that he's up, the noise clouding his brain too much for that to happen; Theo feels guilty about it, because Johnny's been working his ass off and deserves a break more than anyone.

He scrubs a hand over his face, eyes a little red. "Come in," he says, and Theo can't get over how fucking young Johnny looks, even though they're the same age.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Theo asks, even though it's kind of obvious that he did. "If I'd known you were sleeping, I wouldn't—"

"It's fine." Johnny doesn't seem too bothered, just shifts over so there's room for Theo on the couch. "There's root beer in the fridge, if you want it." Root beer is Theo's favorite. He went through three twelve-packs a week during rehearsals and previews, and no one else but Christina ever asked for any, so it can't be a coincidence that Johnny has some in his mini-fridge.

"If you wanna take a nap, I can go," Theo offers, standing up. "I don't want to bother you."

"Don't," Johnny insists, and pulls Theo back down, fingers not moving from around Theo's wrist. "'m up anyway. Might as well be social, or something, right? When's your next gig?" he asks. "I'll definitely be there."

"I have no fucking clue." Theo laughs. "Since the last one wasn't cool enough for a hipster such as yourself, I'll have to do some research to find somewhere that meets your approval." Johnny lets out a huge yawn, and Theo nudges him in the side. "Oh, am I boring you? Jesus, Gallagher, you're turning into a real Broadway diva."

"Totally," Johnny agrees, and then his head just sort of...falls into Theo's lap. Facing the ceiling, but still. "I could really use a massage right now," he says. "My neck is killing me."

"Is that an order?" Theo teases, sliding his hand up to where Johnny's skin is warm and soft and a little sweaty. He tries not to think about what it would feel like to work all the tension out of Johnny's body, because he's got Lea (at least for now) and Johnny's got Aubrey and they both know that dating someone you're doing a show with is stupid and almost never works out, but all he wants to do is something to make Johnny less stressed.

"Stop thinking so much," Johnny says, and tugs Theo down for a kiss. The angle's awkward, and Johnny's breath is a little sour with sleep, but his lips are warm. It's a good kiss, and for a few minutes, everything else disappears, the world narrowing down so it's just them and the couch they're on.

When they break for air, Johnny keeps his hand curled around the back of Theo's neck, his face only a few inches away; he smiles, bright white and brilliant, and curls in on himself, head still in Theo's lap as he drops off to sleep.