Waiting in itself is a really, really boring affair. It literally means doing nothing in its purest sense, just existing in anticipation to some event that you obviously don't control.

Such as standing outside of a hotel in the middle of a rather cold, late October Friday with nothing to keep warm but the thought, the hope of a glimpse of a famous face..

His name is William Kaplan and he's pretty sure losing his fingers to frostbite will be worth it if he can an autograph from one of the Young Avengers.

The Young Avengers...his very reason for existence. Okay, that sounded a little melodramatic, but ever since the quartet of extremely talented young men had rocked the charts with their first single, the fates smiled down upon the band and their fame began to rise steadily. Some forum users hailed them as the new Guns n' Roses, the new Metallica. Billy admitted it was way too early to give the young band quite that much credit, and he was an intensely loyal fan who worshipped the quartet as young gods. So much so he knew everything about everyone. Not just the history of the band, their discovery by a scout at a gig and their performance for one of the most influential record labels in the world and their consecutive signing up at Stark Noise.

No, he knew everything about Thomas Shepherd, Theodore Altman, Elijah Bradley and Nathaniel Richards there was. How the snowy-haired lead-singer was Theodore's best friend since childhood, how the two of them began the amazing band in the Altman garage somewhere in Brooklyn, how they'd discovered the perfect combination in drummer Eli and bassist Nate who just answered a personal ad in some local paper.

Billy wished he'd known of their existence in that stage. It would have been absolutely amazing to know them as they grew up, before thousands of people had their lyrics and names on their lips, before radio stations squabbled for interviews with each of them.

That was impossible now though and it didn't exactly help to dwell on a stupid daydream like that. Not when he could make up a thousand new ones as he waited four hours in the cold just to catch a glimpse of his heroes.

The large, silver bus crawled down the street, taking half an eternity to stop in front of the hotel. A distance of maybe six meters was all there lay from door to door. The fans numbered around the hundred, maybe even more. Billy didn't know and he didn't care. He wanted to see the people he worshipped close up. They all did, that's what they'd wasted at least four hours of their lives for.

The Young Avengers kept good contact with their fanbase, rewarding such loyalty with a few minutes of their precious time. Another quality that made them so very fucking cool, at least in the fans' eyes; they were still down to earth, despite their dizzying ascent to the popular music world.

As soon as the door slid back, the girls erupted into cheers. Billy didn't feel that odd out, but there was a significantly higher number of girls than guys here. Clearly, 'stalking' the band to even their hotel was still a very female fan profession. Billy had seen a few guys in the crowd, some of them even looked as if they might actually be fans themselves and not the tortured boyfriends guilt-tripped into accompanying their girls here. There'd been nods of solidarity, silent, male communication over the excited chatter of the girls. Billy couldn't join in with them. Not because they were female or anything, it just excited him way too much. He'd almost passed out from hyperventilation before and decided that, hey, in the freezing cold and in front of his idols, he would look extremely uncool passing out from excitement like a middle-age mom meeting Robert Pattinson.

So with his headphones keeping at least his ears warm, Billy passed the time until this one, shining moment in his life.
Billy couldn't believe he was going to see the Young Avengers in person. He had to admit, just like the girls, who began screeching as soon as the bus ground to a halt and Tommy's bright mop of hair appeared at the door, he was absolutely infatuated, nay, obsessed with the handsome quartet of young men. Not that he was going to scream though. Just stare and hope for a miracle and half a second of meeting a gaze, preferably Ted Altman's gaze. Billy loved the entire band, but the lead guitarist was his favourite. There was something so comforting about Ted. He was blonde, he was beautiful, he was entirely too nice and polite. And he absolutely loved his music. Anyone could see that, just by watching one concert. Or even just one clip of a guitar solo.

Ted's fingers made love to his Fender Stratocaster, they produced a complicated dance of interwoven chords, translating into an energy that no words could do justice. He was...the magic that glued the band together, the magic ingredient that took the Young Avengers from just good to fucking great.

And did Billy mention that gorgeous part yet?

"I bet y'all are here to see me!" Tommy's voice was unmistakable, rising above the excited chatter and baited breath of the waiting crowd. The lead singer was well known for his boisterous confidence and his rebellious attitude. He was frequently seen arguing with the band's manager and had a habit of really living up to that cliched Rockstar lifestyle. Of course he was the first to leave the bus and dive into the crowd, wielding a sharpie and a lethal smirk.

The rest of the band followed at a more dignified, almost shy pace. Nate didn't quite aspire to be like Tommy, but he held his own, decent amount of swagger as he began to entertain those fans approaching him. Eli regarded everything with a semi-stern expression, but he was betrayed by the twitching smile at the corner of his lips when someone asked him to sign some drumsticks.

Ted was last to appear and he almost hesitated as he stepped out of the bus. He looked genuinely surprised by the red-faced, obviously expectant crowd for a half a minute. As if he couldn't believe their fans braved this freezing weather just to see them...

With a sudden rush of confidence, the blond lead guitarist stepped forward and began signing albums, posters, bags and whichever body parts he was offered. Which sent the fans into a frenzy not unlike an enormous group of sharks. Everyone was pushing and shoving to be up front. Billy felt his fingers go numb with the cold as he brought his little mass in motion. If he was lucky, he'd get a good glimpse of the band signing some stuff. He didn't even dream of getting to actually look at them without other people obstructing his view or God forbid, getting an autograph.. Besides, the only things he had on him were his ticket, his phone and his pass for the subway to get home.

Somehow through the hustle and bustle, he found himself in a sort of surging current of people that moved him without his choice, it was like drifting in the ocean (not that he's ever done that either) but the static, charged atmosphere of pure joy around him was making Billy just as feverish and excited to see the band...

And just when he'd been thinking he might be hearing Tommy talk nearby, the current crushed him against the bus, pinning him right against the sliding door still open from the band's exit. Well. This was probably the closest he was ever gonna get to the Young Avengers, but he couldn't exactly say he was thrilled to be pressed against the unyielding, cold vehicle.

Billy could have cried with frustration as he feebly tried to push through the crowds and was harshly elbowed back to his shitty position. He wasn't even tall enough to tower over the crowd and at least stare at the band...

"Hey, you okay back there?"

The voice drifting across his ears was probably part of his daydream, because there was no way that sweet, mellow baritone would ever be addressing him in real life. Billy braced his arms on the bus and managed to turn himself around, straightening his back and shoulders.

And coming face to face with Theodore Altman. The world ground to a silent halt around Billy, because here was his absolute favourite...idol, the subject of his fanaticism, smiling easily at him, sharpie in hand, bandana covering most of his bright golden hair, silver piercings winking unknown promises at Billy, and Ted had spoken to him. Billy did a half-turn, though he was pretty damn sure there was no one behind him.

"Yeah, you, you okay man? Kinda did a squashed bug on a windshield impression there," Theodore was even closer now, looking ridiculously flawless in his plaid shirt and grubby jeans and with the dimples of his smile deepening.

Billy stared like a deer in the headlights, couldn't move at the sight of all of his flawless human perfection approaching him.

"Huarh...I'm okay..."

Ted gave an approving nod, then his smile grew a smidgen more...insecure? Awkward?

"So, uhm, can I sign anything for you?"

"I don't really have anything...look," oh great stuff Kaplan. Apparently, his brain was paralyzed by the experience and his mouth was protesting out of sympathy. Not to mention the utter rebellion of his frigid fingers, which absolutely refused to be of any aid to him, moving sluggishly through bare pockets.

Damn it. This was it, the perfect opportunity to get something unforgettable, a priceless autograph and Billy fucking Kaplan doesn't even manage to bring something cool to sign.

Ted began signing the CD's and offered posters around him as he waited for Billy. At least he was trying to be polite about distancing himself from the weirdo who barely managed a coherent string of words in his presence.

"Could you sign my...arm or something?!" Desperation was thick in his voice but Billy didn't care anymore. No matter how much of a fool he looked, this was still his shining moment of having Ted Altman write something for him...on him.

The implication of what he'd demanded only hit Billy when a warm hand enclosed around his and another pulled the sleeve of his YA hoodie back. His arm. Ted was touching his arm, was smiling to himself as he uncapped his sharpie once more and held Billy's arm still by ensnaring his left fist.

"You're one of those crazies waiting for hours in the cold, huh? What's your name?"

"B...B..." the touch and gentle scrape of the sharpie on his skin might be the most erotically electrifying experiences Billy had ever felt and in combination with Teddy's voice as he spoke boosted the fanboy into a star-struck stratosphere. So far up, he never did manage to finish his own name.

It was over all too soon, the warm touch leaving his arm and hand, the pen gone from his skin.

"See ya!"

And just like that, the young man was gone, absorbed by the eager and hungry crowd of fans, swallowing him and his bandmates whole.
Billy felt utterly numb, his arm exposed to the cold wind as he gathered his wits about him.

Carefully, he twisted his arm and stared down at what his idol had bestowed upon him.

Get something hot inside of you before your fingers fall off, B! Teddy Altman.

Billy blew on the strong black lines as if they were written in wisps of spider-silk. He would never, ever wash this arm again, he promised himself as a beautiful grin wandered onto his lips. He followed the dissipating crowd in a pleasant daze, the blissful warmth in his stomach a plentiful ward against the cold october wind.