(no subject)
Said Too Much
Brendon Urie/Jon Walker, Ryan Ross/Spencer Smith, Brendon Urie/Ryan Ross ( Panic! At The Disco )
R
For the damnyouwentz “THESE TEEN HEARTS” fic exchange, for plainsong_x. Who said Brendon/Anyone. Wankfic. First time ( more or less ). So. I kind of. Yeah, I don't know. Brendon's a h0. Thanks to hyoukai for being my crutch on this thing and helping me through it.
In interviews he would say that it was because he was rebelling against his upbringing, because that was what kids who were raised strictly Mormon did, and maybe that had been the case in the beginning, when he was young and stupid and didn’t know any better. But then he’d gotten older, and realized that, well, he just liked it.
Besides, it was just sex, and so long as he was careful, the only thing that was likely to happen was he might piss a few people off. It was just for fun.
He swore off it once when he was seventeen. This had lasted approximately two weeks, three days, forty-seven hours, twenty minutes, and thirty-three seconds. Brendon knew the exact time because Ryan had kept track, since they'd all had a bet going to see how long Brendon could hold out. ( The truth was, the only reason he'd even lasted that long was because they'd taken a vote and decided that oral didn't count. Ryan had even won forty dollars in the whole bet for betting Brendon would last two weeks. Spencer had said five days. Brent had given him twenty-four hours. They were all jerks. )
They teased him, and he just went back to his old ways, leaving a trail of broken hearted girls in his wake.
Everything was good, until one night, when they were in the tiny apartment that they all shared for recording. He'd been lucky enough to snag one of the bunks for the night, and he was able to hear Brent breathing deeply, asleep on the bunk above him. He got up and headed down the hallway to the tiny, cramped bathroom. Then he heard a noise that he almost recognized. He stopped, turning and heading back toward the living area. They had a rule, you never brought anyone you wanted to sleep with back to the house, and it had been hard, but Brendon had respected that rule. Now it sounded like someone was breaking it. He charged into the living room, completely prepared to bust whoever it was, Ryan or Spencer.
It took him a full minute to realize that, technically, the rule wasn't being broken. It took him thirty seconds to see a familiar pair of basketball shorts in the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the dirty curtains, and he opened his mouth to embarrass the shit out of Ryan -- before he realized that the other person tangled up so intimately with Ryan on the floor wasn't some girl that the other boy had brought back at all. Slowly, it clicked in his brain that the person causing the tiny, quiet little sounds to escape from Ryan's mouth was Spencer. Brendon did an abrupt about-face and all but ran to the bathroom, locking himself inside.
"Holy shit," he whispered to himself. The next day, he almost quit. He couldn't even look at Ryan or Spencer without thinking about them. He couldn't say anything, because he didn't want them to know that he'd seen. He was on the verge of walking out the door when Spencer jerked him into the kitchen.
"Dude," said Spencer, looking hard at him and pushing his hair back out of his face. "What the fuck. Have you lost your mind?"
"I just. You. I." Brendon didn't really have words. Brendon usually had many words. Brendon usually didn't know how to shut the hell up.
"I'm waiting," Spencer said, crossing his arms. Why couldn't it have been Ryan who pulled him aside to talk to him? At least Ryan would try and scratch his eyes out right then instead of waiting until later and then killing him in his sleep. Or putting a hit out on him.
"How long have you and Ryan been fucking?" he spit out, and he watched Spencer's eyes go wide, obviously caught off guard.
"We're not," Spencer said smoothly. "Why the fuck would you say that?"
"Then what were you doing last night?" Brendon asked. Why couldn't he stop? Spencer really was going to murder him.
"Nothing," Spencer said. And Brendon knew he was lying, because Ryan hadn't been moaning like that because Spencer was doing nothing.
"Okay," Brendon said, hoping that Spencer wasn't really going to reach out and snap his eyeball out of his socket all Uma Thurman in Kill Bill style ( Brendon emphatically does not want to go that way, and he needs his eyes ). "Well. Maybe not fucking, but jerking each other off. Or jerking Ryan off, since he was the one doing all the -- " And here was Spencer, reaching out and grabbing him by the throat and squeezing and Brendon started to choke and --
"Brendon." Spencer said, and Brendon blinked. The other boy was standing there with his arms crossed, glaring at Brendon.
"Spencer," Brendon said, glad that he'd only imagined Spencer actually trying to kill him.
"You didn't see anything," Spencer said. And Brendon nodded. He'd seen nothing.
Except he had seen something. And Brendon knew that this whole fooling around with your bandmates thing was the stuff that ruined friendships and destroyed bands. But Brendon also knew that this was Spencer and Ryan, who had known each other since diapers and probably nothing would affect that, really, but --
Brendon had seen Spencer jerking Ryan off and that was all he could think about. He locked himself in the bathroom and bit down on his lip and forced himself to be quiet. He tried to pretend what he was doing wasn't completely horrible and wrong, sliding his hand into his sweatpants and thinking about that one image that was probably going to be burned into his mind for the rest of forever. The one that he'd told Spencer he'd forgotten but he hadn't and fuck, all he could think about was the way Ryan had made those tiny stifled noises.
Brendon bit his lip and closed his eyes and slowly moved his hand along the length of his cock, thinking about how maybe, if Ryan was getting too loud, Spencer would reach up and put a hand over his mouth to shut him up, and then the sounds would just be muffled. Maybe Ryan would buck his hips up against Spencer's hand, and Brendon wouldn't be able to stop himself and a noise would come out and --
Someone knocked on the door.
"Fuck," he whispered, because someone wanted into the bathroom and he just wanted to finish jerking off in peace and it was going to be completely fucking obvious what he was doing in there.
More knocking. Or banging. It was really more like banging, and an angry, cranky voice issued from the other side of the door. "Hurry it the fuck up. I have to piss," Ryan said. Brendon realized that he would be no fun to be around when they were on tour and someone woke him up before he was ready to be woken. He didn't even appreciate it when his bladder did it.
"Just a minute," Brendon forced out, and he heard Ryan make an exasperated noise on the other side of the door.
"I don't care if you're jerking off, can you please let me use the toilet so that I can go back to sleep."
Brendon almost choked. How had Ryan known he was doing that. "I am not in here jerking off. You shouldn't make assumptions, Ryan. You know what they say about when you assume --"
"I am going to punch you in the face," Ryan said. "If you don't want me to know you're jerking off don't go in the bathroom and start moaning."
"You wouldn't punch me in the face," Brendon said. "You can't mess up my face, because you need my face to front your band."
"I am not going to care if you don't let me in the fucking bathroom, Brendon," Ryan said. Brendon had the thought that Ryan wasn't nearly as intimidating as Spencer. Then he realized that instead of killing him, Ryan would disfigure him in his sleep. Sneak into the room and climb up to the top bunk while Brendon was sleeping and just scratch his face all up and leave him bleeding and in pain all over the sheets, and it would scar, and --
Ryan started banging on the door again. And Brendon walked over and jerked the door open. Ryan tried to shove past him, push him out, and close the door in his face, but Brendon put up a fight. Which was stupid on his part, Brendon realized about halfway through, when they got pressed together in the doorway and it became blatantly obvious that Brendon had been jerking off in the bathroom. Brendon stopped struggling and let Ryan push past him. Ryan looked at him for a moment, before turning away.
"You should really um. Take care of that," he said, then closed the door in Brendon's face. A dozen things to say flew through Brendon's mind, and he probably didn't choose the best retort when he yelled "I was trying!" and then leaned against the opposite wall, waiting for Ryan to come back out. And when he did, he had a look of disgust.
"Now, I have to go try and go back to sleep knowing that you're jerking off in the bathroom," Ryan said, giving Brendon his dirtiest look, which was somewhat marred by the fact that Ryan wasn't scary, or mean-looking in the slightest. Mostly he just looked sleepy and annoyed and he had a zit on the side of his nose. ( This, Brendon chose not to point out, seeing as if he had, Ryan probably would have punched a hand straight through his chest all Mortal Kombat-style. Ryan was sensitive. Really. )
"So what?" Brendon asked. He crossed his arms and waited for Ryan to get the fuck out of his way so he could just get back to business.
"I am pretty sure," Ryan said affectedly, "that when you're doing this band thing, you are not supposed to know when someone else is jerking off. You wouldn't want to know if I was jerking off."
"You don't. Spencer does it for you," Brendon said without thinking. He realized a split second later that that had been the Wrong Thing To Say. His hands flew up to cover his mouth and he watched Ryan's eyes go wide with shock.
"What?" Ryan asked, and Brendon realized that he was completely shocked. Spencer apparently hadn't told him about the conversation he'd had with Brendon earlier in the day.
"You. And Spencer," Brendon said. "I'm just saying, I don't have someone to do it for me, so I really need to get in there so I can. Um." The more he spoke, the more horrified Ryan looked. Right then, it was at the point where it looked like he'd given Ryan the cutest, sweetest puppy in the world, then jerked it away and chucked it in the garbage disposal.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Ryan said, only, it was obvious that he did, because he even sounded horrifed.
"Look, I saw you and Spencer in the living room, and I don't care, Ryan, I know we all do what we have to do since there's the no bringing girls back rule and right now what I have to do is ... well, you get where I'm going with this, right?" Brendon finished lamely. He tried to pretend that they weren't having this conversation. Spencer choking him was better than this.
Ryan stepped out of the doorway and poked one finger into his chest, and Brendon was scared for .03 seconds before he remembered that he could beat Ryan in a fight because if he could take his older brothers, he could take Ryan, because Ryan was nowhere near that tough and his brothers had always fought dirty, and --
"If you say anything to anyone," Ryan hissed at him, his nose inches away from Brendon's and his finger jabbing painfully into Brendon's breastbone, "I will kill you."
And with that he walked away, and Brendon went back into the bathroom and closed the door. He didn't want to tell anyone. He just wanted to finish jerking off to his fantasy of Spencer covering up Ryan's mouth when they were fooling around in peace, thankyouverymuch.
"No, I can top that," Brendon was saying. He was drunk. Jon was drunk. They were laughing and Ryan was working around them, trying to clean up the horrible mess of empty cans and bottles and trying to resist the urge to crack both of their skulls together. Jon had started the game, where you named the most awkward thing that you'd ever seen your bandmates doing, or that you'd done yourself. Ryan thought that it might be some kind of drinking game that Brendon and Jon seemed to find it the funniest thing ever, and Spencer had long since rolled his eyes and walked out. Ryan just wanted to make sure that neither of them hurt themselves.
"How can you top that?" Jon demanded, his words slurring. He couldn't see how walking in on William Beckett and Pete Wentz accidentally that one time could ever, ever be topped. "You can't top that! You're a liar if you can top that."
"No, no, I can!" Brendon said. "When we were making the record." Ryan almost reached out and covered up Brendon's mouth, because he was sure that he knew where this was going. "I walked in on him," and here he pointed at Ryan, "getting jerked by Spencer. And then he," another gesure indicating Ryan, "wouldn't let me jerk off in the bathroom about it later."
Ryan stared at Brendon in fascinated shock. "You jerked off about it?" Ryan asked. Jon roared with laughter.
"Was it that hot, dude?" Jon asked. "It couldn't have been that hot."
"It was totally hot," Brendon said, and began recounting exactly what he'd seen. Ryan threw an empty can at his head and walked out.
Brendon scrambled to his feet and picked up the can, lurching down the hallway, following Ryan. "Ryan," he called out, wanting the other boy to stop, because this fucking walking thing was hard. "Ryaaaaaaaan. You left this." He waved the beer can.
Ryan turned around and opened his mouth to say something witty that would be completely lost on Brendon because he was toasted, but Brendon took that opportunity to trip over someone's sneaker and fall into Ryan, taking them both down to the floor. Ryan grunted with pain and Brendon giggled. Like a school girl. Ryan wished he was recording it so that he could embarrass the shit out of Brendon for doing it later. He didn't. Damn the luck.
Brendon giggled a bit more and then started trying to put his hand down to push himself up. His face was pressed into Ryan's chest and his hand immediately found the most awkward place possible and applied pressure until Ryan made a noise.
Brendon looked up at Ryan, who was laying on the floor, completely frozen, and Brendon realized that whatever he'd done hadn't hurt Ryan. Brendon was unaware of the fact that Ryan mostly just wanted him to get off. Brendon was just too preoccupied with that little sound and making Ryan make it again to realize that. He tried to move his hand into the same place, trying to make the same noise again.
"Stop," Ryan said, and shifted his knees, trying to get out from beneath Brendon. Brendon took this as a cue to shift as well, moving up and giving Ryan a sloppy kiss in the general vicinity of his mouth. Ryan tried to defend himself, tried to push him away.
"Always wanted to kiss you," Brendon slurred at him. Ryan tried to push him away again, but Brendon didn't want to go, and he was heavy. "Thought it was a bad idea, though. Not supposed to sleep with bandmates. Heard it was bad."
"It is," Ryan said quietly, and pushed at Brendon a little bit more. Brendon tried to kiss him again, but Ryan turned his face away.
"But you and Spencer do it," Brendon whined at him. Ryan shoved at him harder, and almost got free, this time. Brendon shifted a little bit to the side.
"Did it. A few times. It's--"
"I want to do it," Brendon said. Ryan shoved him hard, and Brendon yelped with pain as Ryan pushed him off and got to his feet.
"I am not doing this. And you are not doing this. Go back to Jon," Ryan said, storming into the back lounge and slamming the door.
Brendon laid on the floor for a moment, before pushing himself up to his feet and stumbling back to the front lounge, throwing himself across Jon's lap.
"Ryan won't kiss me," he informed Jon dejectedly, wrapping his arms around the other boy.
"'S cuz you're drunk," Jon said. "He won't cuz you're drunk." That happened sometimes. Jon knew these things. Sometimes boys got all uppity when you were drunk and tried to kiss them and they didn't drink.
"He kisses Spencer," Brendon said, completely oblivious to the fact that he sounded approximately twelve.
"Spencer's not drunk," Jon said, the voice of logic in a sea of inebriation.
"If Spencer was drunk," Brendon said. "Ryan would still kiss him."
"Spencer wouldn't get drunk," Jon pointed out. This seemed mind-blowing to Brendon, who just sighed dramatically and rested his head against Jon's.
"Would you kiss me?" Brendon asked him after a few moments of silence.
"No," Jon said. "'m straight."
"I am too," Brendon informed him.
"No. You jerk off to boys. That's not straight," Jon said. Brendon shook his head.
"You should kiss me. I'm sexy. You should want to. Everyone should want to," Brendon said. And even drunk, Brendon's ego was still alive and well.
"'m straight," Jon repeated.
"Don't care," Brendon told him, then leaned down and kissed Jon full on the mouth. He had better aim than when he'd tried Ryan. Jon didn't even push him away. Maybe the alcohol in Jon's bloodstream didn't know he was straight? It didn't matter to Brendon.
"Ow, fuck!"
"You're not supposed to say that. It's killing the mood. Fucking relax."
"Don't fucking hurt me, then. It's hard to relax when it's -- nngh."
"See, just fucking relax and it's all good."
"Y-yeah. Yeah."
"Thought you were straight," Brendon said. He shifted his legs so that he was more comfortable. Jon shifted to get away from his feet, which were miraculously ice-cold.
"I was drunk," Jon said. He was half asleep. He'd be completely asleep, if Brendon would shut his mouth for five fucking seconds. "I can't be held responsible for things I say when I'm drunk."
"You're not straight." Brendon said.
"Brendon." Said Jon, his tone threatening.
"Jonathan," said Brendon, mimicking him.
"Shut the fuck up and let me go to sleep or I'm smothering you with a pillow," Jon said. Brendon tried to act aghast, but it was mostly wasted, since Jon's eyes were closed and he was stretched out on his stomach with his face turned away from Brendon.
"You wouldn't dare," Brendon said. He scooted over until his chin was on Jon's shoulder. Jon turned his head and looked at Brendon.
"Keep talking and you'll find out," Jon asked. Brendon could see the pillow descending to cover his face, Jon holding it down with all his strength and Brendon fighting him, clawing at him to get away. His chest would get tight and he'd be gasping for air and struggling against Jon and --
"Goodnight," Jon said. "And yes, you are allowed to say goodnight. You don't talk in your sleep, do you?"
"No," Brendon said. "Not that I know of." He was quiet for a moment, before saying, "goodnight," and tugging the blankets up around his shoulders.
Ryan and Spencer took bets on how long the whole, "Jon and Brendon are totally, totally sleeping together, how long do you think it'll take to ruin the band" thing. It was jinxing it, Ryan claimed, to even refer to it like that, to which Spencer had replied, oh, come on, you know if you sleep with someone in your band it ruins it.
Ryan had given him a Very Pointed Look that had shushed Spencer on that issue. At least for a while.
"But Brendon doesn't know how to be monogamous," Spencer had added. Ryan had just looked at him for a moment, thinking about what they'd looked like all cuddled up there together before he'd sneaked back out of the room and tried to forget he'd seen it ( except for the part where he didn't and immediately sped back to his room to tell Spencer ).
"I don't know. I guess he could learn?" Ryan said.
"Fine," Spencer said. "But if this ends in tragedy, you owe me a thousand bucks, man, I'm just saying."
"It won't," Ryan said, and he'd smiled, then elbowed Spencer and stolen most of the blankets. They scuffled around for a few minutes, then settled down against each other to sleep.
Brendon Urie/Jon Walker, Ryan Ross/Spencer Smith, Brendon Urie/Ryan Ross ( Panic! At The Disco )
R
For the damnyouwentz “THESE TEEN HEARTS” fic exchange, for plainsong_x. Who said Brendon/Anyone. Wankfic. First time ( more or less ). So. I kind of. Yeah, I don't know. Brendon's a h0. Thanks to hyoukai for being my crutch on this thing and helping me through it.
In interviews he would say that it was because he was rebelling against his upbringing, because that was what kids who were raised strictly Mormon did, and maybe that had been the case in the beginning, when he was young and stupid and didn’t know any better. But then he’d gotten older, and realized that, well, he just liked it.
Besides, it was just sex, and so long as he was careful, the only thing that was likely to happen was he might piss a few people off. It was just for fun.
He swore off it once when he was seventeen. This had lasted approximately two weeks, three days, forty-seven hours, twenty minutes, and thirty-three seconds. Brendon knew the exact time because Ryan had kept track, since they'd all had a bet going to see how long Brendon could hold out. ( The truth was, the only reason he'd even lasted that long was because they'd taken a vote and decided that oral didn't count. Ryan had even won forty dollars in the whole bet for betting Brendon would last two weeks. Spencer had said five days. Brent had given him twenty-four hours. They were all jerks. )
They teased him, and he just went back to his old ways, leaving a trail of broken hearted girls in his wake.
Everything was good, until one night, when they were in the tiny apartment that they all shared for recording. He'd been lucky enough to snag one of the bunks for the night, and he was able to hear Brent breathing deeply, asleep on the bunk above him. He got up and headed down the hallway to the tiny, cramped bathroom. Then he heard a noise that he almost recognized. He stopped, turning and heading back toward the living area. They had a rule, you never brought anyone you wanted to sleep with back to the house, and it had been hard, but Brendon had respected that rule. Now it sounded like someone was breaking it. He charged into the living room, completely prepared to bust whoever it was, Ryan or Spencer.
It took him a full minute to realize that, technically, the rule wasn't being broken. It took him thirty seconds to see a familiar pair of basketball shorts in the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the dirty curtains, and he opened his mouth to embarrass the shit out of Ryan -- before he realized that the other person tangled up so intimately with Ryan on the floor wasn't some girl that the other boy had brought back at all. Slowly, it clicked in his brain that the person causing the tiny, quiet little sounds to escape from Ryan's mouth was Spencer. Brendon did an abrupt about-face and all but ran to the bathroom, locking himself inside.
"Holy shit," he whispered to himself. The next day, he almost quit. He couldn't even look at Ryan or Spencer without thinking about them. He couldn't say anything, because he didn't want them to know that he'd seen. He was on the verge of walking out the door when Spencer jerked him into the kitchen.
"Dude," said Spencer, looking hard at him and pushing his hair back out of his face. "What the fuck. Have you lost your mind?"
"I just. You. I." Brendon didn't really have words. Brendon usually had many words. Brendon usually didn't know how to shut the hell up.
"I'm waiting," Spencer said, crossing his arms. Why couldn't it have been Ryan who pulled him aside to talk to him? At least Ryan would try and scratch his eyes out right then instead of waiting until later and then killing him in his sleep. Or putting a hit out on him.
"How long have you and Ryan been fucking?" he spit out, and he watched Spencer's eyes go wide, obviously caught off guard.
"We're not," Spencer said smoothly. "Why the fuck would you say that?"
"Then what were you doing last night?" Brendon asked. Why couldn't he stop? Spencer really was going to murder him.
"Nothing," Spencer said. And Brendon knew he was lying, because Ryan hadn't been moaning like that because Spencer was doing nothing.
"Okay," Brendon said, hoping that Spencer wasn't really going to reach out and snap his eyeball out of his socket all Uma Thurman in Kill Bill style ( Brendon emphatically does not want to go that way, and he needs his eyes ). "Well. Maybe not fucking, but jerking each other off. Or jerking Ryan off, since he was the one doing all the -- " And here was Spencer, reaching out and grabbing him by the throat and squeezing and Brendon started to choke and --
"Brendon." Spencer said, and Brendon blinked. The other boy was standing there with his arms crossed, glaring at Brendon.
"Spencer," Brendon said, glad that he'd only imagined Spencer actually trying to kill him.
"You didn't see anything," Spencer said. And Brendon nodded. He'd seen nothing.
Except he had seen something. And Brendon knew that this whole fooling around with your bandmates thing was the stuff that ruined friendships and destroyed bands. But Brendon also knew that this was Spencer and Ryan, who had known each other since diapers and probably nothing would affect that, really, but --
Brendon had seen Spencer jerking Ryan off and that was all he could think about. He locked himself in the bathroom and bit down on his lip and forced himself to be quiet. He tried to pretend what he was doing wasn't completely horrible and wrong, sliding his hand into his sweatpants and thinking about that one image that was probably going to be burned into his mind for the rest of forever. The one that he'd told Spencer he'd forgotten but he hadn't and fuck, all he could think about was the way Ryan had made those tiny stifled noises.
Brendon bit his lip and closed his eyes and slowly moved his hand along the length of his cock, thinking about how maybe, if Ryan was getting too loud, Spencer would reach up and put a hand over his mouth to shut him up, and then the sounds would just be muffled. Maybe Ryan would buck his hips up against Spencer's hand, and Brendon wouldn't be able to stop himself and a noise would come out and --
Someone knocked on the door.
"Fuck," he whispered, because someone wanted into the bathroom and he just wanted to finish jerking off in peace and it was going to be completely fucking obvious what he was doing in there.
More knocking. Or banging. It was really more like banging, and an angry, cranky voice issued from the other side of the door. "Hurry it the fuck up. I have to piss," Ryan said. Brendon realized that he would be no fun to be around when they were on tour and someone woke him up before he was ready to be woken. He didn't even appreciate it when his bladder did it.
"Just a minute," Brendon forced out, and he heard Ryan make an exasperated noise on the other side of the door.
"I don't care if you're jerking off, can you please let me use the toilet so that I can go back to sleep."
Brendon almost choked. How had Ryan known he was doing that. "I am not in here jerking off. You shouldn't make assumptions, Ryan. You know what they say about when you assume --"
"I am going to punch you in the face," Ryan said. "If you don't want me to know you're jerking off don't go in the bathroom and start moaning."
"You wouldn't punch me in the face," Brendon said. "You can't mess up my face, because you need my face to front your band."
"I am not going to care if you don't let me in the fucking bathroom, Brendon," Ryan said. Brendon had the thought that Ryan wasn't nearly as intimidating as Spencer. Then he realized that instead of killing him, Ryan would disfigure him in his sleep. Sneak into the room and climb up to the top bunk while Brendon was sleeping and just scratch his face all up and leave him bleeding and in pain all over the sheets, and it would scar, and --
Ryan started banging on the door again. And Brendon walked over and jerked the door open. Ryan tried to shove past him, push him out, and close the door in his face, but Brendon put up a fight. Which was stupid on his part, Brendon realized about halfway through, when they got pressed together in the doorway and it became blatantly obvious that Brendon had been jerking off in the bathroom. Brendon stopped struggling and let Ryan push past him. Ryan looked at him for a moment, before turning away.
"You should really um. Take care of that," he said, then closed the door in Brendon's face. A dozen things to say flew through Brendon's mind, and he probably didn't choose the best retort when he yelled "I was trying!" and then leaned against the opposite wall, waiting for Ryan to come back out. And when he did, he had a look of disgust.
"Now, I have to go try and go back to sleep knowing that you're jerking off in the bathroom," Ryan said, giving Brendon his dirtiest look, which was somewhat marred by the fact that Ryan wasn't scary, or mean-looking in the slightest. Mostly he just looked sleepy and annoyed and he had a zit on the side of his nose. ( This, Brendon chose not to point out, seeing as if he had, Ryan probably would have punched a hand straight through his chest all Mortal Kombat-style. Ryan was sensitive. Really. )
"So what?" Brendon asked. He crossed his arms and waited for Ryan to get the fuck out of his way so he could just get back to business.
"I am pretty sure," Ryan said affectedly, "that when you're doing this band thing, you are not supposed to know when someone else is jerking off. You wouldn't want to know if I was jerking off."
"You don't. Spencer does it for you," Brendon said without thinking. He realized a split second later that that had been the Wrong Thing To Say. His hands flew up to cover his mouth and he watched Ryan's eyes go wide with shock.
"What?" Ryan asked, and Brendon realized that he was completely shocked. Spencer apparently hadn't told him about the conversation he'd had with Brendon earlier in the day.
"You. And Spencer," Brendon said. "I'm just saying, I don't have someone to do it for me, so I really need to get in there so I can. Um." The more he spoke, the more horrified Ryan looked. Right then, it was at the point where it looked like he'd given Ryan the cutest, sweetest puppy in the world, then jerked it away and chucked it in the garbage disposal.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Ryan said, only, it was obvious that he did, because he even sounded horrifed.
"Look, I saw you and Spencer in the living room, and I don't care, Ryan, I know we all do what we have to do since there's the no bringing girls back rule and right now what I have to do is ... well, you get where I'm going with this, right?" Brendon finished lamely. He tried to pretend that they weren't having this conversation. Spencer choking him was better than this.
Ryan stepped out of the doorway and poked one finger into his chest, and Brendon was scared for .03 seconds before he remembered that he could beat Ryan in a fight because if he could take his older brothers, he could take Ryan, because Ryan was nowhere near that tough and his brothers had always fought dirty, and --
"If you say anything to anyone," Ryan hissed at him, his nose inches away from Brendon's and his finger jabbing painfully into Brendon's breastbone, "I will kill you."
And with that he walked away, and Brendon went back into the bathroom and closed the door. He didn't want to tell anyone. He just wanted to finish jerking off to his fantasy of Spencer covering up Ryan's mouth when they were fooling around in peace, thankyouverymuch.
"No, I can top that," Brendon was saying. He was drunk. Jon was drunk. They were laughing and Ryan was working around them, trying to clean up the horrible mess of empty cans and bottles and trying to resist the urge to crack both of their skulls together. Jon had started the game, where you named the most awkward thing that you'd ever seen your bandmates doing, or that you'd done yourself. Ryan thought that it might be some kind of drinking game that Brendon and Jon seemed to find it the funniest thing ever, and Spencer had long since rolled his eyes and walked out. Ryan just wanted to make sure that neither of them hurt themselves.
"How can you top that?" Jon demanded, his words slurring. He couldn't see how walking in on William Beckett and Pete Wentz accidentally that one time could ever, ever be topped. "You can't top that! You're a liar if you can top that."
"No, no, I can!" Brendon said. "When we were making the record." Ryan almost reached out and covered up Brendon's mouth, because he was sure that he knew where this was going. "I walked in on him," and here he pointed at Ryan, "getting jerked by Spencer. And then he," another gesure indicating Ryan, "wouldn't let me jerk off in the bathroom about it later."
Ryan stared at Brendon in fascinated shock. "You jerked off about it?" Ryan asked. Jon roared with laughter.
"Was it that hot, dude?" Jon asked. "It couldn't have been that hot."
"It was totally hot," Brendon said, and began recounting exactly what he'd seen. Ryan threw an empty can at his head and walked out.
Brendon scrambled to his feet and picked up the can, lurching down the hallway, following Ryan. "Ryan," he called out, wanting the other boy to stop, because this fucking walking thing was hard. "Ryaaaaaaaan. You left this." He waved the beer can.
Ryan turned around and opened his mouth to say something witty that would be completely lost on Brendon because he was toasted, but Brendon took that opportunity to trip over someone's sneaker and fall into Ryan, taking them both down to the floor. Ryan grunted with pain and Brendon giggled. Like a school girl. Ryan wished he was recording it so that he could embarrass the shit out of Brendon for doing it later. He didn't. Damn the luck.
Brendon giggled a bit more and then started trying to put his hand down to push himself up. His face was pressed into Ryan's chest and his hand immediately found the most awkward place possible and applied pressure until Ryan made a noise.
Brendon looked up at Ryan, who was laying on the floor, completely frozen, and Brendon realized that whatever he'd done hadn't hurt Ryan. Brendon was unaware of the fact that Ryan mostly just wanted him to get off. Brendon was just too preoccupied with that little sound and making Ryan make it again to realize that. He tried to move his hand into the same place, trying to make the same noise again.
"Stop," Ryan said, and shifted his knees, trying to get out from beneath Brendon. Brendon took this as a cue to shift as well, moving up and giving Ryan a sloppy kiss in the general vicinity of his mouth. Ryan tried to defend himself, tried to push him away.
"Always wanted to kiss you," Brendon slurred at him. Ryan tried to push him away again, but Brendon didn't want to go, and he was heavy. "Thought it was a bad idea, though. Not supposed to sleep with bandmates. Heard it was bad."
"It is," Ryan said quietly, and pushed at Brendon a little bit more. Brendon tried to kiss him again, but Ryan turned his face away.
"But you and Spencer do it," Brendon whined at him. Ryan shoved at him harder, and almost got free, this time. Brendon shifted a little bit to the side.
"Did it. A few times. It's--"
"I want to do it," Brendon said. Ryan shoved him hard, and Brendon yelped with pain as Ryan pushed him off and got to his feet.
"I am not doing this. And you are not doing this. Go back to Jon," Ryan said, storming into the back lounge and slamming the door.
Brendon laid on the floor for a moment, before pushing himself up to his feet and stumbling back to the front lounge, throwing himself across Jon's lap.
"Ryan won't kiss me," he informed Jon dejectedly, wrapping his arms around the other boy.
"'S cuz you're drunk," Jon said. "He won't cuz you're drunk." That happened sometimes. Jon knew these things. Sometimes boys got all uppity when you were drunk and tried to kiss them and they didn't drink.
"He kisses Spencer," Brendon said, completely oblivious to the fact that he sounded approximately twelve.
"Spencer's not drunk," Jon said, the voice of logic in a sea of inebriation.
"If Spencer was drunk," Brendon said. "Ryan would still kiss him."
"Spencer wouldn't get drunk," Jon pointed out. This seemed mind-blowing to Brendon, who just sighed dramatically and rested his head against Jon's.
"Would you kiss me?" Brendon asked him after a few moments of silence.
"No," Jon said. "'m straight."
"I am too," Brendon informed him.
"No. You jerk off to boys. That's not straight," Jon said. Brendon shook his head.
"You should kiss me. I'm sexy. You should want to. Everyone should want to," Brendon said. And even drunk, Brendon's ego was still alive and well.
"'m straight," Jon repeated.
"Don't care," Brendon told him, then leaned down and kissed Jon full on the mouth. He had better aim than when he'd tried Ryan. Jon didn't even push him away. Maybe the alcohol in Jon's bloodstream didn't know he was straight? It didn't matter to Brendon.
"Ow, fuck!"
"You're not supposed to say that. It's killing the mood. Fucking relax."
"Don't fucking hurt me, then. It's hard to relax when it's -- nngh."
"See, just fucking relax and it's all good."
"Y-yeah. Yeah."
"Thought you were straight," Brendon said. He shifted his legs so that he was more comfortable. Jon shifted to get away from his feet, which were miraculously ice-cold.
"I was drunk," Jon said. He was half asleep. He'd be completely asleep, if Brendon would shut his mouth for five fucking seconds. "I can't be held responsible for things I say when I'm drunk."
"You're not straight." Brendon said.
"Brendon." Said Jon, his tone threatening.
"Jonathan," said Brendon, mimicking him.
"Shut the fuck up and let me go to sleep or I'm smothering you with a pillow," Jon said. Brendon tried to act aghast, but it was mostly wasted, since Jon's eyes were closed and he was stretched out on his stomach with his face turned away from Brendon.
"You wouldn't dare," Brendon said. He scooted over until his chin was on Jon's shoulder. Jon turned his head and looked at Brendon.
"Keep talking and you'll find out," Jon asked. Brendon could see the pillow descending to cover his face, Jon holding it down with all his strength and Brendon fighting him, clawing at him to get away. His chest would get tight and he'd be gasping for air and struggling against Jon and --
"Goodnight," Jon said. "And yes, you are allowed to say goodnight. You don't talk in your sleep, do you?"
"No," Brendon said. "Not that I know of." He was quiet for a moment, before saying, "goodnight," and tugging the blankets up around his shoulders.
Ryan and Spencer took bets on how long the whole, "Jon and Brendon are totally, totally sleeping together, how long do you think it'll take to ruin the band" thing. It was jinxing it, Ryan claimed, to even refer to it like that, to which Spencer had replied, oh, come on, you know if you sleep with someone in your band it ruins it.
Ryan had given him a Very Pointed Look that had shushed Spencer on that issue. At least for a while.
"But Brendon doesn't know how to be monogamous," Spencer had added. Ryan had just looked at him for a moment, thinking about what they'd looked like all cuddled up there together before he'd sneaked back out of the room and tried to forget he'd seen it ( except for the part where he didn't and immediately sped back to his room to tell Spencer ).
"I don't know. I guess he could learn?" Ryan said.
"Fine," Spencer said. "But if this ends in tragedy, you owe me a thousand bucks, man, I'm just saying."
"It won't," Ryan said, and he'd smiled, then elbowed Spencer and stolen most of the blankets. They scuffled around for a few minutes, then settled down against each other to sleep.