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This is the stupidest thing that they've ever done.
Vessel squints behind the confines of III's mask as he stares at the bassist across from him, clad head to toe in Vessel's own stage regalia and full makeup, before the singer's gaze flits to the side to where II sits. The drummer looks hilariously adorable in IV's leather jacket as it hangs slightly on his smaller frame, but the dark paint around II's piercing blue eyes is the real icing on the cake as the drummer makes it a point to mimic IV's iconic side eye at every opportunity. Although, Vessel thinks, II just winds up looking the smallest bit insane as he occasionally forgets to smolder and rather, bugs his eyes out sideways.
"I've got our day plans finished," IV announces as he drops a thick binder atop the table that they're seated at within the heart of their tour bus. II's old tour jacket and double scythe pendant are displayed proudly across his chest while his crossed over mouth moves awkwardly as the guitarist's lips shift beneath the mask.
"Yeah, II? What's on the agenda for today?" III asks, mocking Vessel's own voice and tone, forcing his voice a touch deeper and III's own distinct accent into hiding as he instead mimics Vessel's own. Vessel glares daggers at his double, resisting the urge to kick his lanky partner under the table, before Vessel offers him a goofy smile and soothes away the worst of his momentary ire.
"This is fucking stupid," II says at last, as if he's been holding the words in for the past hour that they've been attempting to spend a day in the other's masks, but IV merely scoffs.
"Shut the fuck up, IV. I worked hard on this." IV says proudly, rolling his eyes dramatically, as Vessel cackles and slaps the table in a manner very unintentionally III-coded. Vessel chuckles deeply before losing it entirely, laughing until no sound escapes his lips while Vessel himself slumps against the table, unable to look the others in the eye, too afraid of devolving into hysterics like the bassist.
"Now," IV interjects, clearing his throat, as Vessel forces himself to look up in spite of the breathlessness that threatens him. III, meanwhile, continues to laugh silently, his exposed, painted black chest heaving as IV replicates II's classic intense stare. The problem is, as the guitarist does so, his eyes twitch before one of them blinks before the other does, and it is then that Vessel slinks to the ground of the tour bus, wheezing. III's mask all but vacuums itself to his face, the rubber pressing against his lips in a manner stifling and suffocating, but Vessel pays the brief discomfort no mind.
"This is serious. Can you two stop messing about for five minutes?" IV grumbles, crossing his arms angrily, as II, dressed as IV, resists the urge to cross his own arms, as if remembering that he's not himself, at least not for the day. Vessel manages to catch his breath, giggling instead at the abstract clothing that covers his body, the buttons of III’s shirt holding on for dear life, while III coughs and clears his throat, attempting to catch his own breath.
"Go ahead, II. I'm listening to you," II urges the guitarist turned temporary drummer. Vessel snickers as he catches sight of II's pales eyes, doing their best to mimic the same expressiveness that IV's eyes so often possess, but once more, it comes off as objectively wrong. II's eyes widen a hair too wide, too intense, and Vessel has to once more avert his gaze in order to stop himself from laughing.
"Thanks, Ivy. This is why you're my favorite!" II gushes, beams, and it is then that the real II scoffs.
"I'd never say that!" II huffs indignantly, pushing his chair back and standing up, before the drummer glances down at the now open binder and firmly shakes his head. "You scheduled a time for us to take bathroom breaks?"
"You'll need them," IV deadpans before pointing to another line in the binder. "You have scheduled times to drink water, too. And to suck on ice chips. We're staying hydrated on this tour."
"I'll give you somethin' to suck on I-"
"Hold the fuck on," Vessel cuts III off, remembering to mimic the bassist's accent and to wag his finger dramatically for emphasis. "If anyone is suckin' on anythin' 'round here it's gonna be me, doll."
II slams his head into the small table, biting back a laugh, whilst IV continues his best impression of the drummer and somehow remains straight faced in spite of the obvious amusement that glimmers in his eyes. III, however, merely grins and strides forward with confidence, swaying his hips in a manner that makes Vessel's cape billow behind the bassist as he saunters the short distance over to him, and grins downward at him with his best attempt at a wolfish smile. Vessel barks out a laugh as it instead comes off lopsided and far too playful.
"Well, now we're behind schedule thanks to you absolute muppets." IV bemoans, angrily scooting back his chair and stalking off before he slams the sole bedroom’s door shut and the three men left around the table devolve into silent, breathless, fits of giggles.
Vessel thinks that he passes out momentarily as III's mask continues to glue itself to his face, depriving him of oxygen, and perhaps adding to the delirious bliss that he feels in the process.
-
"I was more than just the bassist in your cargo van seat, and you were more than just some guy who stole my hoodie last week!"
Vessel cringes through another fit of laughter as III skitters about the cabin of the bus, dancing in a way painfully familiar to Vessel's own style, as the bassist not only belts out his own rendition of lyrics but does so horribly off-key. II looks up from IV's laptop, squinting, whilst Vessel frolics around him, chewing on his bottom lip as if he means to swallow it whole, whilst IV angrily stomps his feet.
"Sit the fuck down, Vessel! Vocal warmups are not on the schedule for the day," IV chastises him. "You're gonna break an ankle if we hit a bump."
"He's...happy, II. Let him have fun," II grits out, clearly forcing himself to remain calm, as he shoots IV a sideways glance that winds up making him look cross-eyed.
"I'm gonna dye my white checkered socks purple for the next gig, no one use the sink for a bit." Vessel announces proudly as he stands up, frowning when a button on III's shirt, no longer able to contain the robust swell of his pecs, pops and flies across the table, smacking II square in the forehead.
Vessel blinks, dark eyes wide in horror, whilst II breathes in deep through his nose then slowly closes his eyes. For a moment, all is silent, the world itself holding its breath, until II raises a hand to his forehead and whines.
Vessel's brain short circuits as he processes the sound, having never once heard the drummer do so much as grunt, before his brain registers that he is simply, once more, mimicking their guitarist, who cried if he so much as stubbed his toe.
"The fuck did you do to him?" II asks, panicked, and for a moment it is as if IV forgets who he is pretending to be and who II is pretending to be, as the guitarist rushes over to II's side and turns the drummer's head in his hands. IV's eyes widen behind II's mask, as if suddenly remembering their predicament, before the guitarist guides II's head to his stomach and angrily points at Vessel. "Apologize, now!"
"I'm sorry...Ivy. I... didn’t mean nothin' by it, my...tits are just too big for me shirt?" Vessel tries, cringing from his own tone, as III stalks forward and sets his jaw before cradling both IV and II in his arms, his body language reading protective gremlin mode. Vessel blinks, points at Vessel's own offending article of clothing, then delights in the horror that surfaces on III's expression as the bassist realizes that his favorite frilled shirt is now down a singular button.
"Go fix...your shirt, III, and think about what you've done! I'll take care of the little ones," Vessel commands with a glare, one that Vessel scoffs at, as he seizes the button from the tabletop before remembering to dramatically mope towards III's bunk, slamming the curtain shut behind him.
"Who the fuck are you calling little?" Vessel hears IV screech, words that pull a smile to his lips as he tugs III's mask off in the reprieve of isolation and reaches for the nearby sewing kit tucked into the straps above the bassist's bed.
If he pricks his fingers and drips blood on the bed below him, he doesn't notice, too caught up in the happy buzz in his chest and the echoing memory of II's whine as it rings in his ears.
-
Vessel is pretty sure that someone is drowning a cat in the kitchenette.
He slips from III's bunk, his fingers sore but his borrowed shirt freshly mended with the button fighting for its life once again, and immediately cocks his mask covered face to the side because not only is II chugging a protein shake and cooking eggs- he hates eggs- but he's also growling.
IV sits, cradling his head in his hands in the corner, as Vessel stalks over to the guitarist-turned-drummer and takes a seat across from him.
"Protein is power, mates. You lads need to bulk up more," IV says as he ceases his poor attempt at pig squealing and flips the omelet, glancing over his shoulder with IV’s mask pulled halfway up over his face. "Vessel's the only one who gets me."
"My thighs and arms are solid muscle, thank you very much." II replies with a glare that lacks the intensity of II's own, but Vessel can see the abject horror in IV's eyes as their gazes meet and the guitarist quietly whispers. "Are we actually gym-bros, Vess?"
Vessel places his hand over IV's own, glancing sympathetically at him, before he gives him the bad news.
-
"What the fuck are ya' doin', Vessel?" Vessel asks III, his mock cockney accent unintentionally pitching his voice several octaves higher, as he watches the bassist pause mid-climb up the side of the tour bus and look downward at him dramatically.
"I'm going to commune with Sleep and write a bitching new album!" III answers, his words giving Vessel pause, before he slowly shakes his head.
"Sleep isn't real, ya' dumb cunt!" Vessel emphasizes, placing his hands on his hips in typical III fashion, as he continues to stare upward at the bassist and the manner in which Vessel's own cloak upon III's back flows in the wind, adding to the absurdity of the moment.
"This is why I record solely with II," III calls back downward at him before he refocuses his efforts and resumes his ascent. Vessel's lips fall open behind III's mask out of surprise as his ears vaguely register Sam's what the fuck? off in the distance. "You and Ivy are just the hired help for tours for a reason! You just stand there and look pretty, and…and keep my bed warm at home! Neither one of you understands me!"
Vessel's jaw sets as he glares daggers at the top of the tour bus that III finally climbs over, successfully landing himself a place atop the roof, as Sam finally arrives from the crew's nearby parked bus and assesses the situation with a look of sheer disbelief.
"Have you lads finally lost it?" Sam asks innocently, offering Vessel a raised eyebrow, as the man looks up and down Vessel's attire - or rather III's borrowed clothing- before the sound of something crashing echoes throughout the area, followed in short order by a single word, yelled with sheer distress.
"Shit!"
Vessel blinks, stunned into disbelief, as a notebook flies off of the edge of the bus and lands perfectly, or perhaps not perfectly, on Sam's head with a loud thud.
"My precious lyrics! No!" III laments from atop the bus, hidden from view, as Sam clutches at his head, shakes it, and promptly storms off, leaving Vessel to stand there alone in petrified silence.
That is, until III starts openly mimicking him sobbing.
"I don't cry like that!" Vessel shouts, his face turning a vibrant shade of red beneath the bassist's mask, as he, too, storms off, leaving the bassist alone to mourn the loss of their next best-selling album.
-
"You're not listening to me!" IV in II's mask groans, tipping his head backwards in frustration, as he tries to coax III-dressed-as-Vessel off of the roof. "Stop performing rituals on the roof! You're gonna fucking break something, Ve!"
"I'm working on our passion and you're criticizing me? Stop being such a tour mum! I thought that what we had was special, II!" III calls back, sniffling dramatically, as he kicks his feet against the side of the tour bus, his cape billowing in the nighttime breeze all the while.
"Tour mum?!" II repeats, his eyes comically wide, as Vessel and IV stand idly by the door to their bus, watching on silently as IV tries to get a running head start and climb the exterior of the bus. "Get down here, Vessel! I'm going to wear your ass out when I get my hands on you!"
"Good luck with that, short stack! I'll find a new drummer who actually appreciates my art…and my ass!" III fake sobs, words that both Vessel and not-IV exchange a look over, before IV successfully flings himself hard enough against the bus that the entire thing shakes.
"We don't...argue like this," II whispers through IV's mask, his words slightly muffled, as Vessel snickers behind III's mask and nods his head in agreement. "They've...never gone with us to the studio and seen us prepare for a new album, though. Is this what they think we're like?"
"We all live together, so I’d hope not." Vessel points out, mock offended, as he watches on as IV manages to get a grip on something on the bus' side, just enough to begin propelling himself upwards with the provided leverage. "I think that they're just...really into their new characters, that's all. You remember how it goes…landing a new role and all."
"That’s true, but…I am going to wear your ass out for suggesting this, though." II says abruptly as IV falls, landing on the grass with a small oomph while III cackles from his place atop the bus, the sound carrying over the camping ground and earning them far too much attention in the process.
Vessel, meanwhile, stiffly turns his head towards the drummer and once more chokes, blushing furiously, as II gives him his best squinty-eyed IV impression before slinking back inside of the bus, leaving Vessel alone to bear witness to the chaos that he created.
-
"Enough."
Vessel looks up from his horrible attempt at finishing the crochet project that III had been working on as Sam bursts through the door of their bus and promptly places his hands upon his hips, scanning them all slowly.
II sits in a cut off muscle shirt, curling weights with IV's mask still pulled on. III sits in an armchair with his knees pressed to his chest, rocking back and forth slowly, as if traumatized and heartbroken over his argument with II. Meanwhile, IV ceases his banging on the kitchenette's pots and pans and glares something fierce towards their mutual friend, who stands there in obvious confusion but minor annoyance.
“I don’t care who is who anymore,” Sam growls, stabbing a finger toward the general vicinity of the band, all stationed just to his left. “I don’t care if you’re II pretending to be IV pretending to be Vess. I don’t care if you're pretending to be Liam fucking Neeson—stop screaming about protein shakes and non-existent gods from the top of your tour bus.”
"It was about eggs, actually." II pipes up, setting the weights down, as Sam turns to gawk at him.
"Who was yelling something about naturally thick thighs like twenty minutes ago?" Sam inquires with a perfectly raised brow. "It didn't summon creeps or nothing, but whoever did it, you scared the shit out of some nearby raccoons, and they climbed into the fucking merch van!"
"Well, they shouldn't have left the door open." Vessel adds, rather unhelpfully, with a sheepish smile behind the bassist's mask. “It was II, by the way. We were talking about IV’s thighs.”
"Okay,” Sam bites out, clearly not interested in their appreciation of their other partner’s legs, before he continues. “Look, I've gotten a notice that if it keeps up, we're going to be booted from the rest stop. So, can you lot try to be normal for like five minutes?" Sam asks, exasperated, as he pinches his brow and shakes his head in disbelief. "Oh, and no more of that god awful screeching, whatever the fuck that was."
"II was growling along to Vore, thank you very much. How dare you try to stifle his creativity?" IV gasps, shooting II an apologetic look from behind the drummer's own mask, as the guitarist abandons his makeshift drumkit and drapes his arms around II's neck.
"We're artists, mate." III pipes up, shrugging, as he slowly unfurls his arms from around his knees and showcases the chipping paint across his exposed abdomen.
"You're four theater kids in black body paint and silicone masks,” Sam shoots back, facepalming, before he sighs out of defeat. "Knock it off for the night, yeah? We'll be back on the road tomorrow morning, and hopefully the voices in your heads will stop by then."
"It was only a bit of fun," Vessel says cheekily as he slowly reaches upward and removes the bassist's mask from his face, breathing in deep for the first time since he had nearly sewn his finger into the fabric of III's beloved ruffled shirt.
"Well, fun's over for the night, lads." Sam says with a dismissive tone, but Vessel can see the hint of amusement in their friend's eyes before he turns around and promptly exits the tour bus, leaving them all in contemplative silence.
"Well, I had a good time today." IV says with a shrug, unintentionally shooting them all another II-patented intense stare, before they fall once more into quiet giggles.
-
"Ya' stretched my favorite shirt out," III pouts, holding the article of clothing in hand, as Vessel smiles and leans down, kissing his cheek.
"Got blood in your bunk, too." Vessel tells him with a cheeky grin.
"Ya' bitch!” III gasps, mock offended, as he turns his attention to IV. "Did ya' hear that, Ivy? Means you and I are gonna have to rough it tonight until my sheets are properly cleaned by the maid."
"We don't have a maid here?" IV questions with a tilt of his head.
"Even better, we have a II!" III declares with a beaming, lopsided grin, radiating utter adoration and pride.
Vessel blanches when IV does as II comes barreling down the hallway, fire and anger brimming in his eyes, his supersonic hearing once more spelling someone's doom as III leaps up from his seat and takes off down the remaining distance of the bus.
"Ya' can't hurt me, love! We have an album to write!" III pleads, his voice cracking, as Vessel slings an arm over IV's shoulders and pulls the guitarist into his side so that they can enjoy the show.
"You don't work on the albums, you prick!" II shouts back, but as he passes Vessel and IV, he offers them both a charming, amused smile.
“Next time that we switch roles, maybe we do it somewhere more…private?” Vessel suggests softly as IV blinks upward at him. “Like in bed, I mean.”
“Yeah? What inspired that idea?” IV giggles, blushing slightly, as Vessel offers the guitarist a pointed look.
“Did you hear II whine?” Vessel deadpans, completely serious, before the bus around him falls eerily silent.
Vessel realizes his mistake not a moment later as II stops dead in his tracks, the pillow in his hands stilling with him, as III continues to cower on the couch before the drummer stiffly turns his head towards the singer.
Vessel is on his feet in an instant with his hands raised in mock surrender.
“Have mercy, II?” He croaks out through a crooked grin, only for the pillow in II’s hands to leave them not a moment later before the cushion promptly smacks him dead in the face.
Vessel grins into the fabric in spite of it.