A/N: Wow, it's been awhile since I've posted anything... First off, I wanna say thank you to Penelope_Ink and lpfan503 for all their work on getting the site back up and running. You guys are awesome :)

Second, I've missed reading everyone's stories, and I hope I can catch up soon!

Now, I'm not sure where the inspiration for this story came from, but here we go. It's a bit of an odd format, but I hope it's enjoyable anyways. It's a multi-chapter, but will be fairly short (maybe 3-4 chapters). That said, here's my version of an inside look at Mike and Chester's growing relationship.

Part fluff, part slash, all Bennoda ;)

----------------------------------------------------------

March 23rd, 1999

I knew he was a firecracker right from the start. His voice was one of the best I'd ever heard, and his audition tape blew everyone away. I got him on the next available flight to Los Angeles, inviting him to dinner at a local pizza joint so we could discuss his potential membership in the band.

It was his first time meeting the other members of the group. He and I had a few phone conversations, but besides that we were strangers. I was nervous about bringing someone new into a band of guys who'd known each other for years, but as Brad constantly reminded me, we had no choice. Mark was gone, and he wasn't coming back. I didn't possess the skills required of a lead singer, and our chances of landing a record deal were wearing thinner by the day.

So, we called Chester.

Brad, Joe, Rob, and I were at the restaurant twenty minutes early, wanting to secure a quiet booth and confirm our plan before Chester arrived. The plan was pretty simple, actually. Make sure he's not an asshole, then invite him aboard.

Joe coughed from his spot in the corner, momentarily giving up on scanning for our potential vocalist. "It sucks that Dave's not here. He really should be."

"Yeah," Rob agreed, "He promised he was loyal to Xero, so why the fuck is he putting Tasty Snax ahead of us?"

"He's not." I cut them off before any more tension could grow. "One busy night doesn't mean we should question his loyalty."

Rob opened his mouth to reply, but he was stopped by Brad tapping his shoulder and pointing towards the restaurant's entrance. All four of us turned to look, and I made my first eye contact with the man who was about to become one of the most important fixtures in my life - even if I didn't know it yet.

When he saw us his lips curled into the biggest, most adorable smile I'd ever seen. He looked like a kid who'd just won a lifetime supply of candy - and we hadn't even introduced ourselves yet. I stood up so he could take my spot beside Joe in the booth, and snagged an extra chair from the vacant table next to us.

Before I could sit back down, Chester was in my airspace. He threw his arms around my neck and pulled me close, as if we'd known each other for years. I froze in his arms, unsure how to react. A few moments later, realizing I hadn't hugged him back, he pulled away from me.

"Oh, sorry..." His voice sounded small and awkward compared to the tape I'd replayed so many times it was burned into my memory. "I can be a little touchy-feely sometimes. Is that okay?" He looked so fragile when he asked, as if my answer would make or break his whole spirit.

I wasn't used to touching people - especially strangers - unless I had to. Affection was definitely not my strong suit, but Chester seemed nice enough, and had a voice that could breathe new life into Xero. I smiled at him, deciding I could get used to this quirk of his.

----------------------------------------------------------

September 1st, 2000

After more than a year of writing and rewriting, recording and re-recording, we finally had a date. Hybrid Theory would be released through Warner in less than two months. Our music - our message - would be broadcast to the world. And after that, the possibilities were endless.

The whole band was crowded into Rob's one-bedroom apartment to celebrate. Everyone except Chester, who was running late as usual.

"That fucker would be late for his own funeral." Dave tried to sound annoyed, but the combination of beer and utter joy made it impossible.

I laughed along with the rest of the group. I was relieved that our bassist was back for good. Everyone was, and that was almost as big a reason to celebrate as our album's impending release.

Finally, Rob's doorbell rang. He stood to answer it but I waved him off. I wanted to be the first to break the news to Chester. The first to see his goofy grin that I'd come to love.

"Well?" He rushed through the door as soon as it was opened. "Do we have a date?"

I shrugged, trying to make him sweat.

"Fuck, Mike..." He whined, bouncing on his toes and looking like he might punch a hole through the wall. "Do we have one or not?!"

I didn't feel like explaining cracked drywall to Rob, so I relented and allowed my smile to show. "October 24th." I whispered.

He beamed at me, squealing so loudly I would've scolded him for bothering the neighbors had I not been too damn happy to care. He jumped me, his arms hugging tightly to my neck and his legs wrapping around my waist. He was wiry, but heavier than he looked, and his attack stunned me. I stumbled backwards a few steps, my back hitting the wall and my hands grabbing instinctually to the backs of his thighs to keep him from falling.

He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, grin still plastered on his face. "You okay?" He managed to get out before breaking into uncontrollable giggles.

I nodded and laughed with him, too drunk on excitement and cheap beer to think otherwise.

----------------------------------------------------------

November 7th, 2001

Hybrid Theory was a bigger success than anyone imagined. Within weeks we were touring, and over the next year we spent so much time on the road we began to forget what our own homes looked like. Chester quickly learned that life on a tour bus wasn't a pleasant experience for him. His stomach didn't agree with sleeping in a moving vehicle, and he spent a good chunk of the tour feeling miserable. He dealt with it as gracefully as he could, but in the last few weeks his exhaustion began to show.

"Mike?" Chester's shaky voice woke me out of a sound slumber.

The curtain to my bunk was pulled back, and I blinked a few times, trying to get my eyes to focus and figure out what had disturbed me.

"It's me..." Chester whispered.

Finally my brain caught up with me, and I rolled over to meet Chester's eyes. He was kneeling in front of my bunk, his hands clutching to the railing so tight his knuckles had turned white.

"Carsick again?" I murmured.

He nodded. "I'm out of medicine, and Bob says we can't stop until the morning..."

"What time is it?"

"About 3am."

I sighed, feeling helpless. We were in the middle of nowhere, cruising down a particularly bumpy highway.

"There's no way you can fall asleep?" I placed my hand on top of his, thumb stroking over his tense muscles.

He shook his head. "My whole bunk is vibrating..."

"Okay," I said, scooting over in bed and pulling back the blankets, "Climb in."

Chester didn't rise from his spot on the floor, his eyes narrowing as if he thought I was kidding.

"Come on," I prodded when he still didn't move.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Maybe with two people the bed won't rattle as much."

He smiled a little, but still hesitated. "You're sure it's okay?"

"Yes. Now hurry up and get in, it's cold."

He nodded, crawling into bed next to me and draping the covers over us both. I pulled him against my chest and wrapped my arms around him, hoping it would keep him steady.

"Mike?" He asked, a contented sigh passing through his parted lips.

"Yeah?"

"I can't wait 'til we're rich enough to afford hotel rooms."

I chuckled, closing my eyes and touching my forehead to his.

"Me too."

----------------------------------------------------------

August 17th, 2002

We should've spent the first half of the year writing and recording Linkin Park's sophomore album. That's what all of our managers and producers told us. They'd say that "the fans are waiting" or "the spotlight won't linger forever" and in a way they were right. But a different idea had formed and grown in my mind, and in the minds of my five band mates. An idea we knew we had to make into a reality.

Reanimation.

At first it was just us, our backs against the wall. Fighting back against management, Warner, critics, and my neighbor who kept calling the police with 'noise complaints' when I worked from home. But as we kept going, word got around, and interest grew. It seemed that every time we finished a new demo, we'd get a call from an artist who wanted to be featured on it. At that point I knew we'd won. This was really happening. And by July, we had a finished product.

I think I was more proud of Reanimation than Hybrid Theory. Just because of the amount of shit we took for trying to pull this type of project off. But the album was a success, and we proved everyone wrong. I even gave my neighbor a signed copy, but I'm pretty sure she just threw it away.

It took until mid August for us to finally have an official release party. But, it was worth the wait to have Jonathan, Aaron, Kurt, and everyone else who helped make the album a reality under the same roof.

I was just putting the finishing touches on my spiked hair when I got a call from Chester.

"Chaz? What's up?"

"Mike?" He croaked. He sounded like he'd taken a walk through hell with no water. "I don't think I can make it to the party tonight..."

"Why not?" A stupid question, but I asked it anyways.

"I'm sick, dumbass."

"Oh..."

I couldn't mask the intense disappointment in my voice. This party was the highlight of the year for the whole band. How could Chester miss it?!

"I'm sorry, Mike. Have fun and drink lotsa booze for me, 'kay?" He tried to chuckle.

"Yeah, okay... Bye..."

I hung up, cursing myself for not saying more. After all, it wasn't Chester's fault he'd gotten sick. After a few minutes of scowling at myself in the mirror, I knew what I had to do.

Thirty minutes later I was knocking on Chester's door. He answered after a minute, clothed in grey sweatpants with a blanket around his shoulders. He really did look sick.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Taking care of you, duh." I rolled my eyes and pushed past him into the house.

"What about the party?" He waddled after me, trying to keep up without dropping the heavy blanket wrapped around him.

"I talked to Brad," I called from the kitchen, setting down the bag of supplies I'd bought on the way over. "He said that he and the guys are fine holding down the fort for us."

Chester finally caught up, frowning at me from the doorway. "Are you really okay with this? I know that party is important to you..."

"It is, but some things are more important." I glanced up in time to see his eyes widen and his breath hitch.

"Oh..."

There was a brief moment of awkwardness between us, but Chester quickly dispelled it.

"Nice hair." He chuckled.

I rolled my eyes. I'd changed out of my party clothes, but left my hair alone. It was held up with so much gel I probably could've used it to slice bread. "Did I overdo it?" I asked.

"For coming over and making soup? Absolutely."

Twenty minutes later we sat side by side on his couch, the tv playing quietly in the background. Chester sat wrapped in so many blankets I could only see his head, and he hummed in between sips of the broth I'd made him.

"Sorry again you had to miss the party." He glanced sidelong at me.

"Nah, it's fine. I'll just make another remix album someday. But you sure as fuck better not be sick for that party."

Chester giggled, pushing his hand towards me and extending his pinky finger. "Promise?"

I scoffed, but wrapped my pinky around his anyways and we shook, like we were twelve year old girls.

----------------------------------------------------------

November 20th, 2002

Recording for Meteora was going well and we were even a bit ahead of schedule. Vocally we were almost done. There were just a few nuts and bolts to be tightened up. And one of those nuts was Chester. He was currently bouncing off the walls of the recording booth, and I was trying my damndest to get another run through out of him.

"That was great. Just try it one more time. Really let me hear the anger in your voice."

I chuckled to myself, because right now Chester was the furthest thing possible from angry. He was giddy, restless, full of sugar, and ready for the lunch I'd promised to buy him.

"But Mike, I'm hungry!"

I looked away from him, not wanting to be drawn in by his pouting. "Please, just one more, then I promise we're done."

"That's what you said an hour ago!"

I glanced at the clock and frowned, realizing he was right. "I know," I sighed, "And I'm sorry. But I mean it this time. And if I'm lying, you can have my new Converse."

He perked up, eyes gleaming. "The red high tops?"

I nodded, and before I could speak he had the headphones back on, giving me the thumbs up to start the music. I grinned and began the intro for Don't Stay. Chester was so simple sometimes...

The mention of shoes must have worked, because three minutes later I had the best vocals we'd recorded all day. Chester realized it too, and moments later he came bounding out of the booth, fists pumping in the air.

"That felt fucking great!" He yelled, voice still raspy. He pulled open the door to the control room and threw his arms around me, still cheering. "Can we go eat now?"

"Yes," I laughed, hugging him back, "Burgers and ice cream, on me."

The grin on his face was almost blinding. Without warning he leaned in, pressing his lips to the corner of my mouth momentarily before pulling back. It wasn't quite a kiss, but dangerously close. He froze in my arms, realizing what he'd done.

"Oh, uh, sorry. I just got a little carried away..." He stepped back, glancing away. "Are ... are we okay?"

I nodded, trying to keep my breathing steady. "Y-yeah, it's fine. You just surprised me is all. Let's, uh ... let's go get that lunch."

I patted him on the shoulder, forcing myself to meet his eyes. The relief I saw there was obvious. We shared a shy, slightly awkward smile before I stepped around him, reaching for my car keys. My skin still felt hot where his lips had touched.

----------------------------------------------------------

December 21st, 2002

I thought about that near-kiss extensively in the weeks that followed. I tried to push it away, but somehow it always crept back into my mind - while I was working, while I was eating breakfast, and, to my chagrin, in the shower.

Chester was the same as always, to the point that I wondered if he'd forgotten the whole thing. I wished I could, too, but it was an incomplete memory in my head, burning to be continued. It was like a song I couldn't finish the words to. So it stuck.

With Meteora having been completed only days earlier, the last thing I wanted to do was be social. I wanted to veg out on my couch watching lame movies, eating junk food, and ignoring the outside world. But, Brad convinced me that I couldn't be the only jackass who didn't show up. So, I found myself at Warner's annual Christmas party.

A small gathering, Brad had said. Yes, just the Warner executives and their three-hundred closest friends. After being there for an hour, I'd yet to speak to anyone I knew. When I spotted Chester at the snack table a few yards away, I felt like I'd been thrown a lifeline. I wrapped up my conversation with Jeff Blue's uncle as politely as I could and made a beeline for Chester. I threw my arm around his shoulders from behind, nearly making him choke on the cookie he'd been stuffing into his mouth.

"This party is ridiculous." I muttered, leaning into his neck so no one else would hear.

"I know..." He paused to return a smile and wave from a man who looked familiar, but I couldn't place. "I like parties, and even I'm worn out.

"Think it's too early to ditch?"

He frowned. "Probably. I'm gonna go outside and have a smoke. Wanna come?"

"God, yes." I said, and we all but ran for the exit.

The winter air sent a chill down my spine, but it was refreshing compared to the stuffy office we'd been crammed into. Best of all, there was no one around, and I finally felt like I could breathe again. I was halfway to collapsing on a nearby bench when Chester grabbed my arm, pulling me backwards.

"Look..." He chuckled, pointing above our heads.

I followed his gaze, groaning when I realized what he was talking about. Mistletoe.

He shook his head, smirking at my less-than-thrilled response. "Am I that unappealing?"

"No, it's just a stupid tradition. What are we, teenagers?"

"Hey, tradition is tradition."

"And stupid is stupid."

"This is serious stuff," He mused, taking a half step towards me. "You know, there's an urban legend that if you meet someone under the mistletoe and don't kiss, one of you will die within seven days."

I scoffed. "Bullshit."

"Do you really wanna take a chance?"

Before I could respond he was in my airspace, causing any and all words to die in my throat. His nose grazed mine, his eyelids hooded and a half smile tugging on his lips.

"Well?" He whispered, his breath hot against my lips.

Rational thought was impossible with his smoldering eyes holding mine. I nodded slightly, my hand pulling on his sleeve to coax him closer. The time he took to close the gap between us was agonizing, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of leaning in first.

His lips met mine, melding together in a way that perfect couldn't even begin to describe. It definitely wasn't my first kiss, but somehow, it felt like one. His kiss was unique, just like every other aspect of him. His brief, open-mouthed pecks were innocent enough, but they lit a fire in me that I couldn't explain. A tingling fire that tasted of smoke and Christmas cookies.

Altogether, the kiss lasted no more than five seconds. He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, his cheeks tinged a shade of light pink that I was certain wasn't due to the chill in the air.

"Well?" His hushed words were almost lost in the breeze. "Was that okay?"

"It wasn't my worst kiss..." I replied, refusing to let him know how much he'd affected me. "And, it kept us from dying. Where did you hear that urban legend, anyways?"

"That? I just made it up."

He grinned, looking very proud of himself, while I was caught somewhere between shock and laughter. I wasn't sure if I wanted to smack him or pull him back under the mistletoe for round two.

He laughed, sauntering away before I could make a decision.

----------------------------------------------------------

July 4th, 2003

I unlocked the door to our shared hotel room, pushing it open and groping along the wall for a light switch. Once able to see, Chester stumbled in behind me, giggling into the can of beer he was holding.

"That was fucking amazing!" He slurred. "I wanna sing onstage every night!"

I cringed. Just how drunk was he? "Lucky for you, we're booked for the whole year."

"Wow, really?" His eyes widened, and I wanted to slap him for acting so stupid.

"Chaz, I think you've had enough beer for one night."

He shook his head, pulling the can closer to his chest. "But it's the Fourth of July! The founding fathers said I should have it!"

"Yes, when the founding fathers drafted the constitution, it was their sincerest hope that you would use it as an excuse to get piss drunk and annoy your roommate."

He sniffled, looking the tiniest bit more sober. "Do I really annoy you?"

Damn him and his pouting. Deciding it would be cruel to say yes, I took a different approach. "We have a busy day tomorrow. Can we please get cleaned up and ready for bed?"

He pondered for a minute, staring from me to the can, before mumbling a hesitant, "Okay..."

I breathed a small sigh of relief and took the can from him, pouring the rest of its contents down the bathroom sink. "Okay, now strip."

"Ooh, Mikey wants me."

"Like hell, lover boy. You need a shower before I even consider shaking your hand."

I left him in the bathroom after he promised he wouldn't fall, and changed into some pajama pants. My eyes were already feeling heavy when he emerged ten minutes later, smelling of soap and clean linen. He was still a bit uncoordinated as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of my bed, but seemed much more coherent than before.

"Better?" He asked, extending his hand towards me.

"Much." I took his hand in mine and shook. "Can we get some sleep now?"

He nodded, staring forlornly at his untouched bed across the room. I sighed, having a fair idea of what was coming.

"Mikey, can I sleep with you?"

"What are you, six?"

"No. But you're warm, and you remind me of a teddy bear."

"Uh ... thanks, I guess?"

He seemed to take that as an invitation, and before I knew it the light was off and he was pulling the blankets over us both. Over the next few minutes I felt him inching closer to me across the mattress, before hesitantly wrapping his arms around my waist and leaning into my chest.

"Is this okay?" He asked, his voice muffled by my tee shirt.

I chuckled and pulled him against me, my fingers beginning to trace along the lines of his tattoos. "If I said no, would you move?"

"Prob'ly not..."

Soon his breathing mellowed out, his light snores confirming he'd fallen asleep. Two years ago we'd been in the same position, but on a tour bus and hoping that one day we'd have hotel rooms to sleep in. Funny how things changed, but still stayed the same...

I tilted his chin up and pressed a quick, light kiss to his slightly parted lips. "Sleep well, Ches." I murmured before sleep found me as well.