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The 2007 Warped Tour season had been a rainy one, but Quinn and the rest of The Used certainly did not mind. After having played Warped three other years before and suffering through obscene heat, they welcomed the rain in 2007 with open arms. While newer bands constantly complained about the mud and their wet clothes, Quinn could only appreciate everyone not smelling terrible all of the time from sweating so much and thought it was convenient that nature was cleaning their disgusting bodies automatically. Sometimes when it was pouring outside, he would even go out and shampoo his hair in the rain, and it was lovely not having to wash himself with a water bottle or a hose. Furthermore, it was great to see all of the fans having a good time instead of seeing kids being carried out on stretchers because they had dehydrated and passed out. The only downside to all of it was that there would be the occasional thunderstorm and shows would have to be delayed, cancelled, or postponed, but there had only been a few such shows, and the managing staff of the festival seemed to handle it well when it happened. If Quinn were being honest, he would rather Warped Tour be this rainy every year that they played the festival, as he was quite over three straight months of heat, sweat, and sunburns.
On one particularly rainy day in July, the water came down in sheets and slammed against the tops of their tents so hard that everyone almost had to yell to hear each other. Quinn was sitting around with the rest of the band and a few of their crew members, waiting out a thunderstorm delay. Management had been pretty sure that the storm would pass and that they would be able to continue with the day’s festivities, so no one was particularly bummed. In fact, the atmosphere of Warped was quite electric today, since there had been a “warped tour prom” planned for tonight for bands, crews, and staff. The event wasn’t going to be formal or anything, unless people wanted to dress up, but it was mostly planned to be a fun party after all of the fans left where everyone could relax, drink, and hang out before moving on to the next city. Everyone had been talking about it for a week now, and the discussion had escalated now that the party was tonight.
At their table, one of their friends was telling currently telling them about how he had heard that someone asked his girlfriend to the prom by writing her a song and serenading her with it during soundcheck. “I don’t know if I’d want to put that much effort into taking my girlfriend to a little party, you know?” Jeph commented with a shrug.
Quinn leaned back in his chair, considering Jeph’s words. “I mean, it’s kind of stupid, but it’s also cute in the same way,” he began, staring out at the rain as Bert gently drummed his fingers on Quinn’s thigh from next to him, “It’s almost more cute that he did that for a small, stupid event than if it were a huge one, because he took the time to write that song and stuff even though he really didn’t have to.” Jeph only shrugged, but everyone else nodded in agreement.
A crack of thunder sounded, and it seemed as though the roar was becoming quieter as the minutes went on, giving them hope that they would indeed be able to play today.
*
Later that day, an hour so after The Used had played their set, Quinn was changing his clothes in their bus when his phone’s text alert sounded. When he dug his phone out of his bunk, he read that the text was from Bert, who wanted him to “dress nice” and come to the crew’s bus. He wondered what that even meant, “dress nice,” and he didn’t know why Bert didn’t just meet him at their own bus. Nevertheless, he decided to go along with whatever shenanigan Bert was up to, and he changed into a white dress-up shirt which he simply wore over a pair of jeans with his regular converse. He wasn’t going to dress too fancy because he knew that Bert was probably up to no good.
As he finished up, he glanced at himself in a small hand mirror and ran a hand through his hair before grabbing his phone and heading for the door. Upon pulling it open, he glanced up at the pouring rain and sighed, slamming it and running the fifteen or so feet to the other bus. Once there, he entered and rubbed his feet on the bottom step, looking down at his now soaked outfit and kicking off his shoes. “Bert?” he yelled, heading up the steps and rounding the corner. He felt lumps under his feet when he reached the landing and looked down to see daffodils all over the floor and looked back up to see them strewn all about the narrow hallway. Not only that, but it didn’t seem like anyone was even on the bus. “What the fuck,” he mumbled as he stepped on more daffodils on his way to the back lounge.
He grabbed the lounge’s door handle and pulled it open, finally finding Bert, who was standing on the bench in a full blown tuxedo (who or where he got the tuxedo from was anyone’s best guess, really, because Quinn knew that that man did not own a tuxedo), and the small room was filled with streamers, confetti, and balloons.
Quinn laughed and closed the door behind him, kicking one helium-less balloon. “What’s all this?” he asked with a grin.
“Quinn Allman,” Bert began, reaching his hand out to offer Quinn a single chocolate cupcake, “Will you go to Warped Tour prom with me?” Bert had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face and Quinn couldn’t help but laugh at the other man.
Quinn stepped up onto the bench and took a few wobbly steps toward Bert, gently taking the cupcake and bending down to place it on the table before wrapping an arm around the other man’s waist and pulling him closer. He pressed his lips gently to the other’s and kissed him for a long time, melting in the silence of the tour bus and getting Bert's tuxedo all wet. When Quinn finally pulled away, he laughed once more as he glanced around at the decorations, knowing that Bert had done it partly to make fun of him and partly because he knew that he would really like it. He stared at Bert’s blue, blue eyes and squeezed the man’s hip. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, you know that?”
Bert’s perfect smile was almost blinding, and he ran a hand through his blonde hair before gesturing toward the door. “I know. Shall we go? The party is a-waiting.”
“You’re really gonna wear that?” Quinn asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement as he examined Bert's now slightly wrinkled, wet tux.
“Damn fuckin’ straight I am. Don’t tell me what I can and cannot wear, Allman,” Bert replied as he took careful steps over the bench and onto the floor. Quinn only laughed and shook his head, following the other with a grin and staring at Bert’s ass as the other man walked out the door.
FIN