"So how's the tour going?"

"It's going great," Deryck answered pleasantly. "We're having a lot of fun." Big cheesy smile. The cameras exploded around him like guns.

I'd take a bullet to the head over this, he thought bitterly. The smile didn't slip.

"What was it like to be back in the studio?" another journalist wanted to know.

"It was fun, but we like touring more. We're glad to be back on the road."

Glad to be back in cramped bunks and half assed kitchens, a new city every night. Right.

Another journalist piped up from the back of the room. "What do you have to say to critics who accuse you of being the 'faster, slicker, more derivative Blink 182'?"

How about go fuck yourselves, you two faced vultures. How's that?

"Those guys are awesome," the singer answered instead. "We don't try to sound like anything but ourselves, but it's a compliment to be compared to them." He flashed trademark dimples to sell the line a little easier.

Jesus, when is this going to end? Someone get them out of here.

"Okay, I think that's enough, folks." Steve could have been telepathic, his timing was so perfect. Or maybe he was simply as exhausted as the rest of them. Either way, Deryck could kiss the drummer for ending the press session. He made polite farewells as courtesy demanded and slipped outside at the first opportunity, searching his pockets hungrily for a cigarette to mask the bitterness clinging to his mouth.

"Hey," Cone offered genially, leaning back against the cinderblock wall beside his bandmate. Deryck grunted a noncommittal reply and refused to meet his eyes, staring out instead over the empty parking lot.

"About that shit back there, Biz--" Cone began, and Deryck let his eyes drop closed, trying to block out the sound of his voice. Unfortunately, the bassist wasn't taking the hint. "It's all bullshit, you know that, right? Don't let it get to you. They just need something to talk about, and it's an easy target. They just want something to criticize."

Cone lapsed into silence, and Deryck opened his eyes, turning his gaze on the other boy. The cigarette still smoldered between his lips, and he squinted slightly against the eye-watering smoke. Cone smiled at him, full of good will, and it pissed Deryck off like nothing else. How dare he look so sincere.

"You know what, Cone?" Deryck asked slowly, regarding his friend evenly as he drew the cigarette from his lips. Cone's brows lifted in question and he leaned forward slightly, like an alert puppy. Deryck smiled. "You sound like a fucking girl even more than you look like one," Deryck informed him dryly, dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath the thin sole of his Chucks. "I'm going to the bus. We've got sound check in an hour, so don't be late, and try not to get fucking lost again." Cone's mouth hung open with shock, hurt brimming in his eyes. It was just so easy, Deryck thought wryly as he walked to the bus, in a better mood than he had been all week. It was just too goddamn easy.