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Being on an international tour, also means doing interviews and photoshoots, Shawn doesn't particularly enjoys either of those activities because he can tell the photographer has no idea what aesthetic would work best and he has to find something stupid to do to change his mind. Half the time, it's wrestling with Sid or throwing -possibly literal- shit around.
Today they all got lucky, both photographer and interviewer were into them enough that things went as smooth as possible and they're back at the venue. It's too early for the show but it's a ridiculous hassle to get ready with uniforms and masks, grease paint included, only to take it all off before putting it back again in the space of a couple of hours. So they're all puttering around the biggest dressing room. There're energy drinks, snacks and actual coffee, half the band is out back smoking and probably dodging some of the maggots that always seem to know where to find them.
Shawn is sitting on the sofa, or rather gradually sinking into it. There're Chris and Jay piled up more or less on top of him because the sofa is acting like a black hole. And Sid now, joining in because he's never met a warm pile of his band mates that he didn't immediately join. Sid smells of weed as usual, with a hint of exhaust fumes from outside and a bit too much tobacco, but that’s a smell that clings like a tick.
"Can you stop fucking squirming?" Sid grumbles as he tries to avoid Chris’s pointy elbows.
"M'getting my mask off… Just there's something caught in that strap…"
Shawn doesn't feel like pointing out that if Chris didn't insist on dousing water over his mask, the buckles wouldn't rust and he wouldn't end up stuck in his mask half as much. Though he’d like it if Chris could get himself sorted, both because of his elbows and because his mask smells terrible. Not that Shawn minds, he fucking loves that smell.
"Maybe you need to lube those," says Jay, who's been with them long enough that he should know better. And Shawn only lets it pass because Jay smells lovely, slightly grassy for some reason. Sometimes Shawn needs to take a photo for this smell, something that’d look freaky and natural and creepy he thinks.
"No, nonono, no! You can't seriously be encouraging Chris to use lube!" Shawn likes Sid's smell and his words, if he wasn't half buried within the sofa he would reach out and hug him.
They all stop bickering because Chris has finally got the buckle to cooperate and he’s now pulling his hood off to the usual concert of disgusted grunts. Both Sid and Jay get off the sofa as fast as they can, Shawn for his part inhales long and deep, because this smells so much like his life work.
“You wanna?”
Shawn cracks an eye open. Chris is holding his hood in front of Shawn’s face with a small private smile and Shawn’s already taking the hood, before he realizes the unspoken innuendo.
“I dun-”
Chris shaking his head stops him in the middle of the word. And he would answer indignantly but again Chris cuts him.
“I’m currently sitting in your lap, I have a pretty good idea what you’re getting from this.”