(no subject)
Dust and Feathers
Panic! At The Disco; Brendon/Jon, Ryan/Spencer ( Spencer/Brendon, Ryan/Brendon )
R; for the wtf27 challenge number 4: Wings. Still rolling with the "torture Panic! At The Disco for 27 prompts". For hyoukai, who is the best friend a girl could ask for, because she wanted to see J-Walk with angel wings.
As a note, I have to point out that this is the first time I've actively tortured Jon in one of my wtf27 fics. He wasn't in the genderswap, he wasn't in the moulin rouge AU, and he took care of the nicer kitten in the kitten fic. And all things considered, he got off pretty light in this one. Or something.
Something was tickling the side of his cheek.
It had so very rudely awakened Jon from his sleep, and it was nothing more than a little white feather, getting intimate with the skin of his cheek and if this was some sort of "clever" prank devised by his bandmates, he was going to injure someone.
He pushed himself up, moving to turn, and oh -- no.
He must have still been asleep, or this was a really sick joke.
He had a very large, very fluffy, very white pair of wings attached to his back. And they were attached. Embedded in his skin. Oh, he was going to kill something. Someone. Either way.
He sat up and stretched and -- oh God -- the wings moved. With his movements. They were attached to his body. Jon sat there for a moment and had a very quiet freak out. Then he took a deep breath, composed himself, and looked over to the other bed.
Brendon was sprawled out on his back, taking up the whole bed, asleep. He was muttering something. This did not surprise Jon when he first learned about this particular quirk, since Brendon talked nonstop when he was awake, so why not when he was asleep, too? Jon slid off the bed and went over to him, poking him hard in the ribs.
"Bren," he said. Another hard poke, this time hard enough to make Brendon shift away from his hand and enough to make his face scrunch up. "Brendon."
"Fuck off," he said, and grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it up over his head, ignoring Jon completely. Jon sighed, completely put-upon. Why did the whole rest of this band have to be complete bitches when they were woken up before they were ready? He jabbed the lump of blankets that hid Brendon from sight with two fingers and headed for the door.
Navigating the door was an issue, Jon realized, since he now had two very large extra appendages that were wider than his own shoulders and... okay, seriously, he had angel wings. They were so big that they'd probably carry him if he wanted to fly. Hell, he could probably carry a whole second person, if they were a little person. Ryan, maybe.
He walked across the hall and knocked, not actually expecting anyone to answer. Predictably, he was ignored. He banged again, and he was going to keep knocking until Spencer Smith hauled his ass out of bed and answered the door, because he knew that there was no way Ryan would ever do it.
After a solid two minutes of knocking, the door was answered by, predictably, an extremely cranky Spencer. His hair was messy and he was squinting at Jon in the light from the hallway.
"What?" he asked.
"Spencer," Jon said. "Look at me and ask that again."
Spencer frowned. "What the fuck are you -- do you have wings, Jon?"
"Are you blind, Spencer?" Jon asked.
"Jon, it is seriously too early for jokes and shit," Spencer said. "So you and Brendon should seriously, just go back to bed."
"I couldn't get Brendon to wake up," Jon said. "He told me to fuck off. Spencer, these are real. I have wings."
"I'm obviously dreaming," Spencer said. Jon reached out and pinched his arm viciously. "Ow! Mother fucker!" Spencer yelled at him, slapping Jon hard on the arm. "What the hell?"
"I have wings, Spencer, and this is not a joke," Jon said. And, with a little bit of concentration, he actually made them flap. It was pretty cool, if he did say so himself. Spencer clearly did not agree with this.
"I am losing my mind." He turned and walked back into the hotel room. "Ryan, I am losing my mind."
Ryan said nothing. Ryan, Jon thought, was probably still asleep, or pretending very hard that he was in hopes that he actually would be.
"Spencer you are not losing your mind," Jon said, turning sideways and making his way carefully through the door, following Spencer into the room. Jon marched over to the lamp and turned it on. There was no way he was going to let Ryan sleep through this.
"Ryan, Jon has wings," Spencer declared, sitting down on his bed and lounging back.
"No he doesn't," Ryan muttered through a face full of blanket. He was huddled up on his side, blankets pulled almost up over his head. Jon could see bits of dark hair sticking out, and that was it. He did, however, confirm Jon's theory that Ryan wasn't asleep, but pretending so that Spencer had to get out of bed instead of him.
"No, seriously," Spencer said. "Except for the part where people don't just randomly sprout wings."
"Uh." Jon said. "Obviously they do. Because guess what, Spencer, I have wings."
"Oh my God, both of you shut up and let me sleep," Ryan moaned from beneath his blankets.
"Ryan, I have wings, and this is more important than your beauty sleep, okay?" Jon said.
"He's full of shit anyway," Spencer said. "Like I said, people don't just randomly sprout wings."
Ryan sighed and pushed himself up, turning to look at Jon. He motioned him over, and Jon went, and Ryan reached out and grabbed hold of one of the wings, tugging on it gently, then once pretty hard. Jon made an unintelligible noise. It hurt, the tugging, but Ryan was touching his wings and it felt inexplicably good.
"They're real," he informed Spencer, then flopped back face down into his pillows.
Spencer just looked at them both in fascinated horror before pointing Jon in the direction of the door. Jon made his way back out and back into his own room to lay there until the wakeup call came.
***
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Brendon demanded, glaring at Jon. Jon was trying to figure out the best way to put on a shirt, considering the massive extra appendages now attached to his shoulderblades. He looked up from the shirt to look at Brendon.
"I tried. You told me to fuck off and pulled the blankets over your head," Jon said.
"Did I really?" Brendon asked.
"Yes! I'm not just making that shit up! You also talk in your sleep."
"Well, I knew that, Jon," Brendon said. "What I didn't know was that you grew wings."
"I hate you," Jon groaned.
"You love me," Brendon retorted.
"No, pretty sure this is hate. How the fuck am I supposed to put on a shirt?" He looked up at Brendon, waving the t-shirt at him.
"I don't know. I've never had wings. Go ask Ryan."
"He's never had wings."
"Yeah, but he has gay fashion sense."
Jon made a face, then reached out and grabbed Brendon's arm, dragging the younger boy along with him as he headed back across the hall to the room Spencer and Ryan were sharing. Ryan answered the door with a towel over his head.
"How may I be of service?" he asked from beneath his towel and dripping hair.
"Brendon said you have gay fashion sense and thinks you'll be able to tell me how to put on a shirt," Jon informed Ryan helpfully. Ryan rubbed at his hair through the towel and curled his lip up at Brendon.
"I'm going to start hitting you when you say shit like that," Ryan told Brendon, glaring. Jon believed him. Brendon didn't. "Anyway, how am I supposed to know how to put on a shirt, Jon? I've never had wings."
Jon made a noise of frustration and twitched his wings a little bit. Ryan just watched the wings move. "Why were you so calm about this this morning?" Jon asked him.
"Uh," Ryan said. "What exactly was I going to do about the fact that you've sprouted wings at five o'clock in the morning?"
"Pretend to sympathize? Go into a complete state of denial, like Spencer? Anything, really, Ryan," Jon said. Ryan rolled his eyes.
"I can hear you, Jon Walker. I know where you sleep at night. I'll come for you when you least expect it." Spencer's voice issued from the bathroom. He'd probably just gotten out of the shower.
"You and what army, Spencer Smith?" Jon asked. "I have wings now. Pretty sure I can kick your ass just by looking at you."
"I'm going to pull your feathers out," Spencer threatened. Easy to do when there was a door and Ryan between him and Jon.
"Like hell you will!" Jon protested.
"Oh my God," Ryan said, covering his face with his hands. "Both of you shut up. Find a t-shirt that you don't care if it gets torn up, and come back and we'll cut holes in it and slide your wings through. Or try, anyway. God, why are they so big?"
Jon just stared at Ryan. "... to go with the rest of my anatomy, Ryan."
Ryan made a face.
"Shouldn't we, uh, be trying to figure out how to get rid of them?" Brendon asked. He was half obscured behind Jon's wings, still standing out in the hall. "I mean, uh, yeah, they're cool and all, but uh. They don't really go with our whole... aesthetic."
"Oooh, Brendon. I love it when you use big words like that," Ryan piped up. "It's so sexy."
"If Jon's wings weren't in the way, I'd be hitting you right now," Brendon said. He reached out and petted Jon's wing. He couldn't resist it. Jon's knees almost buckled underneath him.
"Oh my God, don't touch them like that, or right there, or. Fuck. No touching," Jon said. Brendon jerked his hand away like he'd been burnt. Ryan was watching them, fascinated, and Jon was holding onto the doorjamb.
"I think you should keep them," Brendon said quietly.
***
Getting Jon into a shirt turned out to be tricky business. He sat in the middle of the bed while Ryan and Brendon tried to work his wings through holes Ryan had cut into the back of one of Jon's t-shirts. They were trying to be careful, trying not to pull any feathers out while they were doing it.
The first time a feather actually got pulled out, Jon jerked, because it hurt, and the wing moved -- he swore -- on it's own, knocking Ryan off the bed. He sat on the floor and looked up at Jon with his eyes wide and startled, his mouth half open in shock.
"Sorry," Jon said. "I didn't do it on purpose." At least, he didn't think so. He didn't really know how to control the wings at all yet. Brendon was sitting on the bed snickering at poor Ryan. Jon concentrated a little bit on moving the wing, and managed to hit Brendon with it too, knocking him over backward.
"Hey!" he protested.
"That, I meant to do," Jon said. Ryan got up and moved cautiously back onto the bed. "Don't worry, Ryan, I'll try not to do that again. Just don't pull any more feathers out, okay? It hurts."
"Okay," Ryan said, and went back to carefully tucking feathers through the hole in the t-shirt. He sighed. "This isn't working, Jon. It needs to like... tie on."
"I can't go shirtless, Ryan," Jon said.
"No, I know, but I'm saying, it needs to tie on." Ryan sat back and looked at the t-shirt for a minute. Then he reached out for the scissors and started cutting on the t-shirt. He was determined to make it fit.
"Seamstress Ryan," Brendon said. "He's a man of many talents."
"Shut up, Brendon," Ryan said.
Spencer came back in with breakfast while Ryan was busily cutting. He made a face.
"Please tell me that this isn't new costuming," Spencer said. The costumes were already weird enough. He didn't know what Ryan intended to do with that t-shirt, but he was pretty sure that he didn't want to wear it.
"No, I'm trying to make it so that Jon can wear a shirt, Spencer, Jesus," Ryan said, irritable because he was trying to concentrate. Spencer wisely said nothing as he fished through his bag and doled out breakfast sandwiches and hashbrowns, as well as sodas. Ryan ignored his, his tongue poking out of his mouth.
After a few minutes, Ryan put the scissors down and held up the shirt. "Okay," he said, sighing softly. "It's not the best thing ever, and it's not going to look that great, but, you know, you'll be wearing a shirt."
"Yeah. Which is better than nothing, since I'm going to freeze because I can't wear a coat," Jon said unhappily.
"Look, I fixed the t-shirt. Give me some time on the coat, okay? I mean, I could do the same thing to a hoodie, but it wouldn't keep your back very warm," Ryan explained.
"Well," Jon said. "Better than nothing, I guess."
"Yeah," Ryan said, and held the shirt up for Jon to slide on. They got his head and arms through the holes, and Ryan adjusted the three parts of the back so that they fell around Jon's wings. He'd cut them so that he could just tie them back together around the wings, and he got to work doing so.
"What did you do to it?" Jon asked, feeling Ryan's fingers brushing constantly against his back as he tied tight little knots all the way down the back of the t-shirt.
"I cut it up," Ryan said. "You know how you see those girls who cut the sides of t-shirts then tie them back together? That's what I did."
"Pretty brilliant, actually," Spencer said. Ryan beamed at him.
"Now we're never going to hear the end of it," Brendon said. "Don't tell him he's brilliant, Spence. It's bad for his health."
"Why not?" Ryan asked, turning to glare at Brendon, who was happily munching away on Ryan's forgotten potatoes. "It's not like I have an ego like yours or anything."
"Who're you betting on?" Jon asked, looking up at Spencer.
"Ryan, like always," Spencer said. This brought the argument that was blossoming behind Jon to a screeching halt.
"You place bets on our arguments?" Brendon asked.
"Why not? Spencer still owes me twenty bucks from the last one that Ryan lost," Jon said absently.
"Why do you betray me so, Jon?" Ryan whined dramatically. "After all my hard work so that you could wear a shirt."
"Aww, honey," Jon said, turning around and tackling Ryan back onto the bed, digging his fingers into the other boy's ribcage and making him yelp, then dissolve into helpless laughter. "I love you so much!"
Ryan was laughing too hard to respond.
"Brendon's eating your sandwich," Jon told him, once he was tired of tickling, leaving Ryan sprawled red-faced and breathless on the bed. Ryan tipped his head and looked at Brendon.
"If you eat my fucking sandwich I'm going to beat your ass," Ryan threatened. Jon laughed and got off the bed, going to finish getting his stuff to head out.
***
It was hard to hold his wings perfectly still while his costume was adjusted around them. Ryan was giving direction, and someone more knowledgeable about clothing than he was was adjusting Jon's stage costume.
"Why couldn't you have just... decided to do this before the costumes were all made?" She asked, looking up at Ryan. "I mean, wouldn't that have saved time, rather than changing half way through the tour?"
"We needed to do something to change it up," Ryan said smoothly. Jon was always impressed with his ability to lie, even though he couldn't keep the lies straight later on. "We were bored. This is fun." He reached out and poked the wing. Jon turned to glare at him over his shoulder. If he touched the wings, it was going to become very obvious that they were actually attached to Jon's body.
"Well, whatever," the girl said, and went back to sewing up the jacket.
***
Jon shared a room with Ryan that night. This was for two reasons: one, Spencer was so weirded out that he refused to share with Jon, and two, Brendon was constantly trying to touch the wings and he was making Jon crazy. So Jon was defaulted to sharing with Ryan, who was neither weirded out ( oddly enough ) by the presence of Jon's wings, nor did he constantly want to pet them.
Jon had a hard time sleeping, not used to sleeping on his stomach and not being able to lay on his side or back at all. It was uncomfortable, and he just laid there uncomfortably, floating in and out of sleep, listening to Ryan tossing and turning in the other bed.
He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, there was light peeking beneath the curtains. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked at the clock. It was late, and he was still tired. He looked over at the other bed.
Ryan was still asleep, his back to Jon. And Jon knew, that when Ryan woke up, Ryan was not going to be pleased.
Ryan was having his own experience. His pale, bare shoulders were sporting brand new appendages. But apparently, Jon had gotten lucky in the wing department with his pretty angel wings. Ryan hadn't been so lucky.
Stretched out behind Ryan across the bed was a pair of very long, iridescent wings. They were blue and green and sparkled a little bit in the faint light from under the window.
Ryan was going to be so, so pissed when he woke up.
***
"Get my scissors and cut them off," Ryan ordered. He was sitting on the end of the bed, his feet on the floor, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Ryan, they're attached to your body and that's going to hurt like a motherfucker," Jon said. "It hurt when you and Brendon were pulling my feathers yesterday -- fuck, that's weird, my feathers -- and it's going to hurt if we cut your wings off."
"I don't care," Ryan said dramatically. His back and the bed were covered in a very fine layer of glittery dust. "I don't care how much it hurts, I'll go stand in the bathtub so that if I bleed we can wash it off but please, please, please for the love of God and all that is holy cut them off before Brendon sees."
Because this was what was happening: Ryan had faerie wings, and he very, very desperately did not want Brendon Urie to see them. Because, even if they disappeared at some unknown point in the future, he was never, ever going to hear the end of it from Brendon. Years from now, when they were old and wrinkled and looked like Aerosmith, Brendon was going to be calling him a faerie.
Ryan was determined to put a stop to that before it ever started.
Jon walked over and sat down behind Ryan, reaching out and touching the place where Ryan's wings entered into his back. Ryan immediately pulled away from his fingers. As Jon thought, that place was just as sensitive as it was for Jon himself.
"It's going to hurt, Ryan," Jon said. "I mean, it's really, really going to hurt. I'm not doing it."
"I'll get Spencer to do it, then," Ryan said, leaning over and grabbing his Sidekick off the beside table, starting to send a text to Spencer.
"Brendon's going to follow him over here, if he's awake, you know that, right?" Jon asked. Because Brendon was nosy as hell, and wanted to know everything that was going on at all times.
"You won't let Brendon in," Ryan said, sending the text, asking Spencer to come into their room. Then he pulled his legs up against his chest and rested his chin on top of his knees.
Jon reached out and touched his back, making Ryan jump. A little flurry of glitter went up as Ryan moved. Jon snickered. "You shed faerie dust when you move," Jon said, still laughing a little bit. Ryan turned around and gave him a dirty look.
"Shut up," Ryan said. "I wish someone else had shared with you. Maybe they'd have wings instead."
***
Ryan stood with his arms crossed over his chest while Spencer lay on the bed, gasping for air through his laughter. Jon was leaning against the headboard, his wings carefully arranged for maximum comfort. Ryan looked so angry he was about to explode.
"Thanks, Spencer, thanks a lot," he said, his voice icy.
"I'm sorry, Ryan, you have faerie wings," Spencer said. "I mean, Jon's wings are pretty ridiculous, but you have faerie wings."
"I hate you," Ryan whined, flopping down and burying his face into the pillows. He lay that way for a moment before turning and looking at Spencer. "I want you to cut them off. Jon won't do it. I need you to do it."
"Is it going to hurt you?" Spencer asked. He was not really all that willing to do it, since he was pretty sure that the wings were part of Ryan's body now, and he didn't want to be cutting pieces of Ryan off.
"Probably," Jon said.
"I don't care," Ryan said. "It can't hurt that badly."
That was how Ryan came to be standing in the bathtub with Spencer, who held Ryan's scissors. Jon was sitting on the bathroom counter, watching them. He had a towel ready in case Ryan really did start bleeding.
"Okay," Spencer said, sounding nervous, raising the scissors until the base of the wing was between the blades. Then he started to close them.
Ryan let out a scream as soon as the blades touched him. Spencer hadn't even actually done anything, but Ryan couldn't help it. It scared him, and he knew for sure that it was going to hurt. Spencer looked down at the scissors, not even about to penetrate Ryan's.... was it skin? On the base of the wings? Then he looked up at Jon, who had covered his face.
"I didn't even do anything, you big baby," Spencer said.
"Okay, maybe don't cut them off," Ryan said unhappily.
"You have glitter all over your back," Spencer said.
"It's faerie dust, Spencer," Jon said. "Because Ryan's a faerie."
"I'm going to punch you in the face, Jon Walker," Ryan said, frowning at him. He took his scissors back from Spencer and stepped out of the bathtub.
"You wouldn't. You love my face, Ryan Ross," Jon said gleefully, kicking his legs briefly before getting back down onto the floor. "I can't wait for Brendon to see those, though. He'll love them."
"I hate you all," Ryan groaned, and stomped out of the bathroom, throwing himself back across one of the beds.
***
Brendon, Ryan had decided, was totally a dick.
He decided it around the point where Brendon laid eyes on the pretty, sparkly wings that had sprouted from his back and started laughing. He laughed so hard that he sank back against the wall, all but crying with laughter and clutching his stomach. Ryan walked over and kicked him.
Brendon let out a yelp and didn't quite stop laughing, but he threw his arms out and wrapped them around Ryan's legs, dragging him down. Ryan gave his own yelp and threw his hands out, bracing himself on the wall as he tried to keep from going down. He hit the floor and cried out with pain. Brendon let go of him quickly and sat up, not laughing anymore.
"I landed on my wings," Ryan said pitifully. Brendon just started laughing again. Ryan shifted so that he wasn't laying on his wings anymore, and kicked Brendon again. "I hate you."
Brendon twisted around and threw his arms around Ryan. "But I love you," he said obnoxiously. Ryan made a face and pushed at him, trying to get him off.
"Get away," Ryan whined at him, pushing ineffectually at Brendon.
"But Ryan," Brendon whined back in the same tone. "I want to pet your pretty, pretty wings. I want to loooove you."
"You're going to be covered in glitter," Spencer said.
"Glitter?" Brendon asked.
"Ryan sheds faerie dust," Jon said from his place on the bed. "Like, whenever he moves."
"That is awesome!" Brendon said. Ryan hit him again, and they wrestled around a little bit before just sprawling out on the floor. Brendon tipped his head and looked over at Ryan. "So what are we going to do? I mean, about the wings?"
"What do you mean, what are we going to do? They have to stay where they are," Ryan said. "We just... have to make them disappear."
"Yeah, because we can't cut them off," Jon said.
"How do you know?" Brendon asked, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair. He noticed that he had very fine sparkly dust all over his t-shirt. Ryan really did shed faerie dust.
"Spencer tried to cut Ryan's off," Jon said. "Ryan screamed like a girl before Spence ever actually did anything. It was actually kind of funny."
"It was not funny," Ryan snapped.
"Dude, it was totally fucking funny," Spencer said. "I didn't even touch you, and you screamed. And Jon covered his face."
"You're totally ruthless, Spencer," Brendon said. "Show me how."
"It's my secret power, Brendon," Spencer said. "If I show you, I have to kill you."
Brendon pouted.
***
"You know," said the seamstress, giving a dirty look to the back of Ryan's head. "You could have told me last night that you were going to be wearing these. Then I could have at least been working on your costume."
"I didn't know. We just thought that, you know, we'd see how Jon wearing them went over before I tried it," Ryan explained.
"Why didn't you pick wings like Jon's, instead?" she asked him.
"Because I didn't want to do the same thing," Ryan said. He was lying, she was even pretty sure he was lying. The kid must have lost a bet or something.
"Just let me know beforehand if Brendon or Spencer decide to do this. At least then I could get a jump-start on fixing this," she told Ryan.
"Of course," Ryan said, though he knew that there was no way that they could know if Brendon or Spencer were going to wake up with wings the next morning.
***
The only problem with the wings, was that because of the way Jon's were shaped, he no longer fit in his bunk. They were just too large, too wide to fit. Ryan fit because his were smaller, because they were structured differenly. Jon considered this to be unfair, because now he was having to sleep on the floor in the back lounge, because he couldn't find a comfortable position to lay in with his wings on the couch.
Jon was sure that he never, ever would have sprouted wings if he hadn't joined this band.
He sighed and smacked his hand into his pillow, trying to figure out a way to get comfortable at all. The lounge door pushed open and Brendon slipped in, coming in and laying down on the floor next to Jon.
"What do you want?" Jon asked him tiredly. He didn't feel like putting up with Brendon's shit right that minute.
"I just wanted to see how you were doing," Brendon said.
The moon was shining faintly through the blinds and Jon looked hard at Brendon, unsure whether he was being sincere or not. Sometimes with Brendon he couldn't really tell.
"I'm fine," Jon said.
"You're laying on the floor," Brendon said.
"Yeah, well, I don't fit in my bunk or on the couch with these stupid wings," Jon said unhappily. He was stretched out on his stomach with his face turned to the side. Brendon shifted and lifted one hand up, trailing his fingertips down the bare skin between Jon's wings, making Jon jerk.
"Brendon, what are you doing?" Jon asked, a little weirded out. Brendon pulled his hand away.
"I just," he started, then faltered and gave up. He was quiet for a moment, which was really rare for Brendon, and that meant that he was thinking really, really hard. "Look, I know that this is going to sound really stupid, but I think. Your wings are really hot and I want to touch them. A lot."
"What? Brendon, that's--"
Jon broke off, because Brendon was touching his wings. Jon had already learned that certain parts of his wings were more sensitive than others, and caused certain reactions in his body. Reactions that he didn't necessarily want to be having with Brendon.
"Don't. Don't touch me there," Jon whispered.
"I want to," Brendon said. And he didn't stop, either.
"Brendon, please don't," Jon whispered to him. Brendon pulled his hand away, curling it up between them as he shared Jon's pillow.
"Does it really bother you that much?" Brendon whispered back. Maybe the whispers were to keep anyone else from hearing. Jon wasn't sure.
"No, it's just." Jon started. "It's weird, Brendon, because."
"Because you don't do guys," Brendon said. Jon noticed that he didn't move, however.
"No, because we're in the same band," Jon said, rolling his eyes at him. Brendon frowned.
"Look, I'm being serious," Brendon said.
"I'm being serious too," Jon returned. Brendon sighed, then pushed himself up and left the lounge.
Jon sighed and buried his face into the pillows.
This whole wing thing sucked.
***
Jon was a mess when he stumbled down the hallway and into the kitchen the next morning. Spencer and Ryan were already there, squished onto one side of the booth, Ryan on the outside, his wings brushing the floor beside his feet. They both looked up when Jon walked in, and Ryan paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth.
"You look like shit," Spencer said.
"I feel like shit," Jon said, walking over and opening up some of the cabinets, looking for something to eat. Why didn't they have any food? The only thing in one of them was a box of cereal that Jon was sure was probably stale. His stomach growled. "Why is there no food?"
"Because we didn't buy any?" Spencer said. Ryan just went back to eating his cereal. That box was sitting on the table and was carefully labelled "RYAN" in block letters with sharpie. Which was stupid, Jon thought, since it was some sort of gross cereal that he wouldn't have eaten for money.
"Life sucks right now," Jon said, walking over and sliding into the booth. Brendon came stumbling into the kitchen, jerking the fridge open. Jon twisted around, and he, Ryan, and Spencer all watched Brendon as he reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of juice.
"What?" Brendon asked, reaching up and patting down the shock of messy hair standing up all around his head. "What?"
Ryan snickered a little bit and went back to eating.
"I don't have wings," Brendon declared, then shot Jon a dirty look and stalked out of the room, down the hallway and into the lounge, slamming the door behind him.
"What crawled up his ass and died?" Spencer asked.
"Are you kidding?" Ryan asked. "He's always like that. And he doesn't have any right, either, since he doesn't have fucking fairy wings. I brushed glitter out of my teeth this morning, you guys. Seriously. Brendon can suck it up."
Jon snorted. He was pretty sure he knew exactly what Brendon's problem was.
***
"I wonder if I can fly," Jon said absently. He and Ryan were sitting backstage at the arena. Spencer had managed to coerce Zack into taking him shopping, and Brendon, not wanting to hang around where Jon was ( Jon thought, anyway ). Ryan had been talking on the phone and had waved them off when they'd asked him. Jon hadn't wanted to go with Brendon, not after what had happened in the lounge the night before.
"I don't know," Ryan said, not looking up from his sidekick. "I'm sure I can't. I don't care how skinny I am, there's no way these pathetic things are going to hold me up." To prove the point, he fluttered his wings a little bit.
"I can't imagine that mine wouldn't," Jon said. "They'll probably hold me and you both up."
"Why don't you try it by yourself first?" Ryan suggested. He didn't want Jon taking flight with him and then... dropping him, or something.
"I don't think the ceiling is tall enough," Jon said, standing up. He frowned as he tried to figure out how to flap his wings. It was harder than it seemed like it should be. Ryan cheered as Jon got them moving, his hair flying around his face and the sparkling dust that was all over his wings and his body and his clothes started blowing around in the wind created by Jon trying to take off.
His bare feet lifted a few inches off the ground and he pumped his fist into the air. He was going to be able to fly! Of course, the instant that he did it, he lost his concentration on what he was doing with his wings and fell. He wasn't ready for it, and he fel backward onto his butt. Ryan fell over on the couch, laughing.
"You took off!" he said.
"I took off," Jon yelled, reaching out and shaking Ryan. "I am totally going to be able to fly."
"Do it!" Ryan yelled. "Do it!"
Jon pushed himself to his feet and got to work again. Faerie dust and loose paper began fluttering around everywhere. Jon's feet lifted off of the ground again and Ryan covered his mouth because he couldn't stop it from hanging open and his own faerie dust was getting in.
Jon's head bumped against the ceiling tiles and he leaned forward. That action started him moving across the room. "I am fucking Superman!" he yelled to Ryan. Then he crashed into the wall and stared at it in shock. Wow, he was actually pretty fast. Ryan was already sprawled out on the couch, he was laughing so hard. Jon dropped back down onto the ground and hurried back over to Ryan.
"I flew," Jon said excitedly. "I took off."
"And you crashed into the wall," Ryan said through his laughter.
"Yeah, but I flew. The fact that I crashed into the wall while i was doing it doesn't mean anything," Jon said.
"Oh come on, that was totally the best part," Ryan said, cracking up. Jon slapped him, openhanded on the arm. Ryan made a face at him and sat up, smoothing down his hair.
"Let's see you take off and fly across the room, then," Jon said. Ryan made a face at him. "At least try, dude."
Ryan got up and fluttered his wings. Glitter went everywhere. But the more he moved them, the less the glitter flew off of them. He wished that he'd known that earlier. Apparently moving his wings cleaned them off. He wondered if the glitter would just come back. Did it grow back? It didn't matter.
His wings didn't create quite the windstorm that Jon's had. And they barely lifted him off the ground, no matter how hard and fast he moved them. He let them flutter to a stop and looked at Jon.
"I can't fly," he said sadly. Jon pouted at him and then walked over to him.
"I can try and pick you up?" Jon said.
Ryan shrugged. "Don't pull a wing muscle."
Jon snorted and looked at Ryan. "How the hell am I going to pick you up, though? Like... I don't know. I can't just pick you up around the waist, because that won't work."
"Well, I can't piggyback and I'm not wrapping my legs around your waist," Ryan said.
"Well, I'm not going to be able to just pick you up in my arms, Ryan," Jon said. Ryan sighed. They stood there and looked at each other for a moment.
"So what do we do?" Ryan asked after a few minutes.
"I don't know, learn how to fly yourself?" Jon said.
"Jon," Ryan whined at him. "Pick me up. You know I'm not that heavy."
"Yeah, but." Jon said.
"You won't drop me and break my neck, or anything else, for that matter," Ryan said. He flexed his arm. "I'm tough."
"Yeah, right," Jon said, but picked Ryan up anyway. It was awkward, and Ryan wrapped his arms around Jon and held on for dear life as Jon started moving his wings. Ryan almost screamed, and definitely held on tighter when he realized that they'd left the ground.
"You're choking me," Jon managed to say. Ryan loosened his grip, but very little. Jon flew them around the room, Ryan clinging to him the entire time.
The door opened and Spencer and Brendon walked back in, stopping in the door and staring at the spectacle of Jon just fluttering around, leaving a little trail of glittery dust behind him from where he was carrying Ryan. He swooped -- honestly swooped, making Brendon yelp and duck behind Spencer for protection -- and deposited Ryan on the ground right beside them.
"Jon can fly," Ryan said, a little breathless, fairy dust stuck all over his skin. Spencer noticed that he even had it in his mouth, because he could see it on Ryan's tongue when he spoke.
"I can fly," Jon told them, landing right next to Ryan with a huge grin on his face.
Brendon made a little noise and turned around. "Let me know when you're done with this whole, hey, we have wings, let's enjoy them thing," he said, then slammed the door on his way out.
"What the fuck?" Ryan asked, completely confused.
"I'll go talk to him," Jon said, and pushed between Spencer and Ryan to follow Brendon. He caught up with him in the hallway.
"Dude, what the fuck?" he asked. Brendon stopped and looked at him, then turned back around, resuming his diva stomp down the hall. "Brendon!"
"Leave me alone!" Brendon snapped. Jon reached out and grabbed his arm and jerked him to a stop.
"Brendon. What the hell? Seriously," Jon said. "What's your problem today?"
"You're just. Carrying Ryan around like nothing happened," Brendon said.
"Nothing did happen, Brendon, what the fuck are you talking about," Jon asked, completely lost.
"No, you just turned me down and now you're all. Carrying Ryan around," Brendon snapped.
Jon just stared at him. What the hell was going on? Jon had just been carrying Ryan because Ryan's wings really couldn't do more than pick himself up maybe an inch up off the ground with his own wings.
"Are you jealous of Ryan?" Jon asked, looking at Brendon seriously.
He watched Brendon fidget for a few minutes, not seeming to want to admit to it. Then he finally sighed. "So what if I am? Why aren't you picking me up and carrying me around?"
"Because you were being a pissy bitch and went shopping with Spencer."
Brendon's mouth opened, then closed, then opened. Jon felt a small thrill of pride when nothing came out, because how ofted did someone render Brendon Urie speechless? He always had something to say.
"I was carrying Ryan because we both have wings," Jon said. "We were trying to make this not seem so horrible. You were trying to feel me up."
"I wasn't -- okay, I was, Jon, but." He took a deep breath. "I think the wings are really, really... hot. And I want to touch them, and I'm sorry if that turns you on, but I really, really want to touch them."
"I can't let you, Brendon," Jon said.
"Why not?" Brendon asked. Jon just stared at him. Why the hell was he being so fucking stubborn about this? Jon wasn't interested in Brendon that way. He was attractive, Jon knew that, but seriously? He didn't sleep with bandmates. That ruined bands, and it didn't matter how good looking Brendon was.
"Look, Brendon, seriously? I like being in this band. You like being in this band. We're not going to fucking destroy this great thing we've got just because you want to touch my fucking wings and turn me on," Jon snapped at him.
"We're not going to fuck up the band!" Brendon protested. "That's not what I want to do. I just want to touch them, and if that turns you on, then, well, I guess. I'll do whatever you want me to do."
"Brendon, I don't want to have sex with you, or whatever you're offering," Jon said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Look, me sleeping with someone in this band didn't ruin it before, and it's not going to now," Brendon said. "It's just. It happened, and it was done, and when your wings are gone I probably won't want it anymore."
"When you pick up girls, are they all fans who just go for it because you're Brendon Urie?" Jon asked. "Because saying shit like that will never, ever get you laid. Anywhere. Ever."
"Jon," Brendon said. "I want to make out with you, seriously. And I want to touch your wings and did I mention I want to make out with you? Because I do."
"But only because I have wings," Jon said. "And they turn you on."
"No, because you're fucking hot, Jon Walker. It's just the wings that put me over the edge."
"Brendon, no," Jon said, and walked back into the dressing room, leaving Brendon standing in the hallway.
***
Ryan flopped down onto the floor in the lounge beside Jon that night, fluttering his wings slightly. Jon closed his mouth up, trying to make sure that he didn't get any faerie dust into it.
"Brendon says you're being a bitch," Ryan said. Jon watched him kick one leg into the air, waving it back and forth as he made himself comfortable next to Jon on the pallet he'd made up on the floor.
"I'm sorry, what? Brendon's calling someone a bitch," Jon asked, turning his head and looking at Ryan. Their faces weren't that far away from each other as they lay there.
"He said you won't let him touch your wings," Ryan said.
"It turns me on," Jon said. "It feels so good, Ryan, and I don't want him doing that to me."
"Why not?" Ryan asked. "That doesn't make any sense, Jon. If it feels good, and he wants it, then why not do it? You don't want it?"
"No, Ryan, I'm not going to fuck up the band just so I can get off," Jon said, frowning at Ryan, who made a face.
"Jon, it's not going to fuck up the band," Ryan said. "I've slept with Brendon, it didn't fuck anything up. He's really good about not being a pain. And yeah, it means something, but it's not like... it's not like it's, oh, we broke up or whatever. We're friends."
"And Brendon and I are friends, and I want it to stay that way. And it might not if we do this," Jon said.
"I think it'll be fine, Jon, seriously. It hasn't broken us up before, and it won't break us up in the future," Ryan said, kissing Jon on the end of his nose, then pushing himself up and walking back out of the lounge, closing the door behind him.
Jon sighed and buried his face into the pillow.
***
Brendon didn't speak to Jon for three days. And at first, it was nice, but after the second day of Brendon playing telephone with him through Spencer and Ryan, Ryan finally got fed up and exploded all over Jon, telling him that he'd best make things up with Brendon and giving him a healthy coating of glitter as he stalked out of the room.
After he'd brushed the glitter out of his teeth, his beard, and his hair, Jon went to find Brendon. He found him, sitting in the back lounge, mashing frantically at buttons as he got destroyed onscreen. As the game over screen showed up, Brendon looked up at Jon, then dropped the controller and stood up to leave the room.
"Oh, for fuck's sake. Sit down." Jon said. Brendon ignored him and started out. Jon sighed and stood right in the doorway so that Brendon couldn't leave.
"Get out of the way," Brendon said, and if Jon had had his way, the first words Brendon had said to him in three days wouldn't have been those.
"No," Jon said. "So sit down and stop being a fucking diva. Have you slept with Ryan?"
Brendon's mouth dropped open, and yeah, Jon was being pretty straightforward about things, but still. "No?" Brendon said. And okay, Brendon probably shouldn't have lied. Was this Jon's business?
"Not what Ryan said," Jon said, crossing his arms. "In fact, he said you were together, broke up, and the band was fine, so I should sleep with you because really, it would be okay."
"He probably didn't say it like that," Brendon said.
"Pretty much did," Jon said. "That was the gist of it. Anyway, what the hell, when were you sleeping with Ryan?"
"Before you joined the band. Hell, before we were ever. While we were recording? Ryan and I, you know. It's not a big deal. He's kind of sleeping with Spencer now anyway," Brendon said, shrugging slightly. Like this didn't matter. Like the fact that he'd, oh, dated his bandmate or whatever wasn't a big deal.
"Ryan and Spencer are... what?" Jon asked. This was so confusing, and possibly more information than he ever wanted to know.
"Fucking," Brendon said, looking straight at Jon. "Or dating. Or whatever it is that they do."
"Oh," Jon said, his mouth staying int he shape of the letters.
"It's not a thing. Well, I mean, it's a thing, it's our thing. Like. I don't know." Brendon shrugged again. "I was sleeping with Spencer when we kicked Brent out, it was just. I don't know. Something that's between the three of us?"
"I joined the gayest band in the history of existence," Jon said, sinking down onto the couch with a sigh.
"Well, probably not, but... look, I don't want to run you off," Brendon said. "So if you feel better, you know, not doing it, then that's fine. I'm not going to hold it against you and... well, neither is anyone else."
"Why didn't I know this before?" Jon asked.
"I guess you just didn't notice. It's not like it's something special, anyway. It's just..." Brendon shrugged helplessly. He didn't know how to explain it, and it had been really strange at first. But now it was just something that happened. Ryan and Spencer shared a room most of the time, anyway.
"Brendon," Jon said. "This is something that destroys most bands. People start sleeping together, and then, you know, bands break up."
Brendon got up and walked over, kneeling on the floor in front of Jon, looking up at him.
"I don't know if you've noticed this, but this band is not like other bands," Brendon said, then leaned up and pressed his lips to Jon's.
Jon let him do it. Jon kissed him back.
He was so, so screwed.
***
Jon lay on the floor on his pallet, face down, with his arms folded beneath his head, eyes closed. Brendon's fascination with his wings was turning out to be a very good thing for him indeed, considering that it had, currently, resulted in Brendon lying on the floor beside him, stroking his fingers over the wings.
Jon was pretty sure that he'd never been this turned on in his life.
Brendon kept kissing his shoulder, brushing his fingers over the feathers like they were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. And Jon had to admit, seeing someone with angel wings was probably pretty fascinating, but Brendon normally had the attention span of a gnat. And here he was, laying there, watching his fingers move over feathers.
"Jon," he whispered after a long while, his fingers stilling and his hand moving to rest against warm skin at the base of the wings. "I want you to. Um. I mean, if you want, we could." Jon raised an eyebrow, looking at Brendon. He was pretty sure he knew what Brendon wanted.
"What?" Jon asked. He wanted to hear Brendon say it. It was sort of sick of him to do, but he wanted Brendon to ask him for it, now that they were laying there on the floor together.
Brendon leaned in close. "I want you to. Just. I want you to fuck me." He finally managed to get it out, then closed the distance between his mouth and Jon's, kissing the other boy hard, his hand coming up to tangle into Jon's hair. Jon shifted.
The way he figured it, if Brendon wanted this, and if he swore it wouldn't do anything, wouldn't mess anything up, then Jon could roll with it. And if it was awkward, then, well.... he'd figure out a way to make things better. But, Jon figured, if it didn't mess things up when it involved Ryan, then things would be okay if they involved him.
He just kissed Brendon in return and tipped him onto his back.
***
The thing about Brendon, is that he didn't really know how to be quiet. Ever, about anything, except when he was sulking, and that generally involved a lot of sighing and being generally dramatic.
Brendon was not capable of being quiet during sex, so that the other people around didn't know it was going on.
Spencer was sure that whatever it was, it was going well, because Brendon was definitely enjoying it and -- dammit, did they have to do it on the bus? He struggled out of his bunk and lurched sleepily down the hallway to the front lounge, where Ryan was bundled up into a faerie dust-covered blanket, playing with something on his computer. Spencer slid into the seat beside him and tugged at the blankets.
Ryan put up a half-hearted fight before letting Spencer adjust the blanket so that it was wrapped around the both of them. "I'm cold," he said. "You're letting a draft in."
"Wear more clothes," Spencer said, because Ryan wasn't wearing a shirt.
"I'd do it, but you know, the less of my clothes destroyed the better," Ryan said, then went back to what he was working on. Spencer snuggled up to him.
"Jon and Brendon have made up," Spencer told him helpfully.
"I know," Ryan said. "I put my headphones on so I couldn't hear."
"I should've thought of that," Spencer said sleepily, leaning against Ryan's shoulder. He could hear Brendon crying out in the back. He sighed. Ryan turned his head and kissed the top of Spencer's.
"Get them and go back to sleep. If you fall asleep here you're going to fall out in the floor," Ryan said. "Then I'll get drafty under my blanket."
"Mm," Spencer said absently, already half asleep against Ryan. Ryan just smiled and shook his head a little bit, working with the opposite hand now that the other one was pinned down by Spencer leaning against him. But that was fine.
Everything was fine.
***
"Okay, carry me," Brendon said. They were all sitting in the dressing room, bored before the show. Brendon was trying to convince Jon to entertain him, and Spencer was reading with Ryan asleep with his head pillowed on Spencer's thigh, his back to them and his wings trailed out across the floor.
Jon had actually been suprised, because nothing had changed, except that Brendon was less bitchy now that he was getting what he wanted and he touched Jon a lot more, just little lingering trails of his fingers on Jon's side or hand or wings. And now he was demanding that Jon fly him around the room.
"You're heavier than Ryan," Jon said, by way of excusing himself from having to do it. Brendon actually stomped his foot, crossing his arms over his chest. Spencer snorted, and Ryan shifted in his sleep at the noise.
"Just try, Jon, please?" Brendon pouted. How was Jon supposed to say no to that? Brendon was just going to be harder to pick up, was all.
"Fine, but if I sprain my wings, you're going to be the one who has to hear me bitching," Jon said, and figured that picking Brendon up would have to happen first.
Brendon was little, but he was a lot heavier than Ryan was, and it was harder for Jon to hold him up in his arms while he concentrated on working his wings, trying to get them up off the ground. Spencer made a noise at the wind that kicked up, blowing the pages of his book, his hair in his face, and glitter off of Ryan's wings around. Ryan made a noise and covered his face, pressing himself closer to Spencer, burying his face into the other boy's stomach.
Jon managed to get them both off the ground, but couldn't seem to get any real height. Brendon clung to him, because to him, they were actually pretty far up off the ground, and he could foresee bruises if Jon dropped him. He didn't want Jon to drop him. Jon flew them across the room and back, before he finally settled down onto the ground.
"I don't want to get like, totally tired out before the show, you know?" Jon explained. Brendon grinned and kissed him gleefully.
"You can fly," he said, then laughed, bouncing off to do... God really knew what, considering that it was Brendon. Jon shrugged a little and walked over and sat down on the floor, tugging his laptop out of the bag. Spencer stroked Ryan's hair, fixing it as the other boy relaxed back into sleep after the maelstrom of Jon's beating wings.
"He might be excited, but I'll be glad when these things are gone and I can sleep in a bed instead of on the floor," Jon said. "Even bunks would be better than the floor."
Spencer made a face. "That makes it sound horrible," he said. Bunks were no fun. "But, you know. Brendon."
"Hey, if he doesn't want to keep sleeping with me when this is all over, then, you know, whatever," Jon said. He was trying to convince himself that it didn't really matter to him.
"Yeah," Spencer said, but with a tone in his voice that said he didn't believe Jon any more than Jon believed himself.
Jon watched him playing with Ryan's hair while his computer booted up, and hoped that nothing would change when this was all over.
***
Jon woke up lying on his back with Brendon curled up around him, his face pressed into Jon's shoulder.
The important part was where Jon woke up on his back, with no signs that he ever had wings. He shook Brendon gently. "Brendon," he said, then shook harder, wanting the other boy to wake up, wanting him to know that his wings were gone.
Brendon woke up slowly, and he looked at Jon. "Your wings are gone," he said sleepily. Then he shifted, snuggling closer to Jon and throwing one arm across him. "That's good." And promptly fell back asleep.
Jon reached out and picked a feather out of Brendon's hair, reaching over and putting it on the bedside table. Who knew, maybe Brendon would want to keep it as a souvenier.
***
"Okay, that is not fucking fair," Ryan said, glaring at Jon when they all arrived downstairs that morning. He was still adorned with his pretty color-marbled, glittery wings. He looked about three seconds away from smoke trickling out his ears.
"It's not like I have control over this, Ryan," Jon said. It was too early for dramatics and Brendon was sort of sticking close to him, and had been all morning. But Jon had seen him tuck the feather away for safekeeping. That had made him smile.
"Maybe they'll go away tomorrow," Brendon said brightly as they picked over the continental breakfast provided by the hotel. It was pretty decent for picking. "I mean, you did get yours later than Jon got his."
"Why are you so fucking perky?" Ryan asked. Spencer stepped between them immediately, heading off the fight that he was sure was about to ensue. Brendon didn't answer, and was instead concentrating on making waffles. Ryan let it go with a frustrated little sigh.
He stalked all the way across the room and sat down at a table with two chairs, giving Spencer a pointed look, clearly saying that he should follow. Spencer looked at Jon and sighed dramatically.
"You just had to get rid of your wings and Ryan keep his, didn't you," he said. Jon cracked a smile, looking up at Spencer, before Spencer grabbed a pair of muffins and wandered off to sit with Ryan while he sulked.
"I want them to go away. I want to wear nice clothes. I hate this," Ryan said, as soon as Spencer was seated. He was half watching Brendon and Jon eating across the room. "I hope that the cure is not sex with Brendon. Because seriously. I don't want to get into the middle of that."
"Ryan..." Spencer said, then rolled his eyes, picking off bits of his muffin and eating them. He nudged the other one toward Ryan, who reached out and picked the top off of it, taking a bite.
"No, I mean it. I don't want to get into the middle of whatever the fuck is going on with him and Jon, and obviously sex is not the cure to this kind of thing because if it was, I would've been cured a long ass time ago," Ryan said.
"I don't know what to tell you," Spencer said. "But I will say that Brendon was right, Jon did get his wings a day before you did, so hopefully tomorrow morning, they'll be gone."
"Hopefully," Ryan said. Spencer knew that was the end of the conversation. After this long, he knew when Ryan was just going to clam up and just not keep talking. Now was one of those times.
Spencer hoped that the wings going away would make Ryan less bitchy for a while.
***
The wings were temporary. Ryan woke up the next morning, wingless and still covered in glitter. He sat on the bed for a long time, looking at the shimmery dust that was all over his arms and legs and he wondered if he'd miss it. It was stupid, because the day before, he'd been pissed off that Jon had lost his wings and Ryan hadn't yet.
And now he was sad that they were actually gone.
This was stupid.
He got up off the bed and went to shower. He just needed to get the glitter off of him.
***
"I was hoping that you'd, you know, be happier about the whole not having wings thing," Spencer said. They were squished into his bunk together, just barely, trying to ignore the fact that Brendon and Jon were totally making out in the back lounge.
"I was used to them, I guess," Ryan said, snuggling closer to Spencer.
"You were not, you hated them. And now you're not going to be waking up with glitter in your mouth. I'm not going to be waking up with glitter in my mouth."
"I liked having wings," Ryan finally said after a long moment. "I wish that I'd had wings like Jon's, though. I would've liked to fly."
"Boys weren't meant to fly," Spencer said.
"Then why did I get wings?"
"Because you're a faerie."
"Fuck you!"
"Yes please," Spencer said, grinning and kissing Ryan lightly. "But seriously, Ry, don't be so fucking down about it. Now you can wear regular clothes and coats and not freeze to death."
"I can go shopping," Ryan said, suddenly more bouyant. "I can wear clothes! Coats! Mmm, warm." Spencer cracked up as Ryan snuggled closer, holding the blanket tightly around them.
"See. It's good the wings go away. And the glitter didn't taste all that great," Spencer pointed out.
"That's --" Ryan broke off as they heard Brendon moan from the lounge. "Oh, fuck him."
"I guess Jon was really worried about Brendon not wanting to jump him anymore after the wings went away," Spencer said.
"Yeah, and now we're going to have to hear it," Ryan said. Spencer suddenly had an idea, and slipped out of the bunk. "Hey, get the fuck back here. You were keeping me warm!"
"Hold on!" Spencer said. Ryan could hear him rummaging around hin his own bunk, and then he was back, with his ipod and the speakers. He set them up at teh head of the bunk, above Ryan's head, and turned it on, loud enough that it would drown out Brendon's noises, but not be too loud for them to fall asleep. Then Spencer slipped back underneath the blanket and snuggled up to Ryan. "Fixed," he said.
"Definitely fixed," Ryan said, smiling brightly. They made themselves as comfortable as they could with two people packed into the bunk. Ryan tucked himself in against Spencer and closed his eyes.
"If you still had wings we couldn't do this," Spencer said.
"I know," Ryan admitted.
"So be glad that they're gone," Spencer said.
"I am. I am glad," Ryan said.
Spencer closed his own eyes and just concentrated on the sound of the music and Ryan breathing against him, blocking out everything else in the world.
Panic! At The Disco; Brendon/Jon, Ryan/Spencer ( Spencer/Brendon, Ryan/Brendon )
R; for the wtf27 challenge number 4: Wings. Still rolling with the "torture Panic! At The Disco for 27 prompts". For hyoukai, who is the best friend a girl could ask for, because she wanted to see J-Walk with angel wings.
As a note, I have to point out that this is the first time I've actively tortured Jon in one of my wtf27 fics. He wasn't in the genderswap, he wasn't in the moulin rouge AU, and he took care of the nicer kitten in the kitten fic. And all things considered, he got off pretty light in this one. Or something.
Something was tickling the side of his cheek.
It had so very rudely awakened Jon from his sleep, and it was nothing more than a little white feather, getting intimate with the skin of his cheek and if this was some sort of "clever" prank devised by his bandmates, he was going to injure someone.
He pushed himself up, moving to turn, and oh -- no.
He must have still been asleep, or this was a really sick joke.
He had a very large, very fluffy, very white pair of wings attached to his back. And they were attached. Embedded in his skin. Oh, he was going to kill something. Someone. Either way.
He sat up and stretched and -- oh God -- the wings moved. With his movements. They were attached to his body. Jon sat there for a moment and had a very quiet freak out. Then he took a deep breath, composed himself, and looked over to the other bed.
Brendon was sprawled out on his back, taking up the whole bed, asleep. He was muttering something. This did not surprise Jon when he first learned about this particular quirk, since Brendon talked nonstop when he was awake, so why not when he was asleep, too? Jon slid off the bed and went over to him, poking him hard in the ribs.
"Bren," he said. Another hard poke, this time hard enough to make Brendon shift away from his hand and enough to make his face scrunch up. "Brendon."
"Fuck off," he said, and grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it up over his head, ignoring Jon completely. Jon sighed, completely put-upon. Why did the whole rest of this band have to be complete bitches when they were woken up before they were ready? He jabbed the lump of blankets that hid Brendon from sight with two fingers and headed for the door.
Navigating the door was an issue, Jon realized, since he now had two very large extra appendages that were wider than his own shoulders and... okay, seriously, he had angel wings. They were so big that they'd probably carry him if he wanted to fly. Hell, he could probably carry a whole second person, if they were a little person. Ryan, maybe.
He walked across the hall and knocked, not actually expecting anyone to answer. Predictably, he was ignored. He banged again, and he was going to keep knocking until Spencer Smith hauled his ass out of bed and answered the door, because he knew that there was no way Ryan would ever do it.
After a solid two minutes of knocking, the door was answered by, predictably, an extremely cranky Spencer. His hair was messy and he was squinting at Jon in the light from the hallway.
"What?" he asked.
"Spencer," Jon said. "Look at me and ask that again."
Spencer frowned. "What the fuck are you -- do you have wings, Jon?"
"Are you blind, Spencer?" Jon asked.
"Jon, it is seriously too early for jokes and shit," Spencer said. "So you and Brendon should seriously, just go back to bed."
"I couldn't get Brendon to wake up," Jon said. "He told me to fuck off. Spencer, these are real. I have wings."
"I'm obviously dreaming," Spencer said. Jon reached out and pinched his arm viciously. "Ow! Mother fucker!" Spencer yelled at him, slapping Jon hard on the arm. "What the hell?"
"I have wings, Spencer, and this is not a joke," Jon said. And, with a little bit of concentration, he actually made them flap. It was pretty cool, if he did say so himself. Spencer clearly did not agree with this.
"I am losing my mind." He turned and walked back into the hotel room. "Ryan, I am losing my mind."
Ryan said nothing. Ryan, Jon thought, was probably still asleep, or pretending very hard that he was in hopes that he actually would be.
"Spencer you are not losing your mind," Jon said, turning sideways and making his way carefully through the door, following Spencer into the room. Jon marched over to the lamp and turned it on. There was no way he was going to let Ryan sleep through this.
"Ryan, Jon has wings," Spencer declared, sitting down on his bed and lounging back.
"No he doesn't," Ryan muttered through a face full of blanket. He was huddled up on his side, blankets pulled almost up over his head. Jon could see bits of dark hair sticking out, and that was it. He did, however, confirm Jon's theory that Ryan wasn't asleep, but pretending so that Spencer had to get out of bed instead of him.
"No, seriously," Spencer said. "Except for the part where people don't just randomly sprout wings."
"Uh." Jon said. "Obviously they do. Because guess what, Spencer, I have wings."
"Oh my God, both of you shut up and let me sleep," Ryan moaned from beneath his blankets.
"Ryan, I have wings, and this is more important than your beauty sleep, okay?" Jon said.
"He's full of shit anyway," Spencer said. "Like I said, people don't just randomly sprout wings."
Ryan sighed and pushed himself up, turning to look at Jon. He motioned him over, and Jon went, and Ryan reached out and grabbed hold of one of the wings, tugging on it gently, then once pretty hard. Jon made an unintelligible noise. It hurt, the tugging, but Ryan was touching his wings and it felt inexplicably good.
"They're real," he informed Spencer, then flopped back face down into his pillows.
Spencer just looked at them both in fascinated horror before pointing Jon in the direction of the door. Jon made his way back out and back into his own room to lay there until the wakeup call came.
***
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Brendon demanded, glaring at Jon. Jon was trying to figure out the best way to put on a shirt, considering the massive extra appendages now attached to his shoulderblades. He looked up from the shirt to look at Brendon.
"I tried. You told me to fuck off and pulled the blankets over your head," Jon said.
"Did I really?" Brendon asked.
"Yes! I'm not just making that shit up! You also talk in your sleep."
"Well, I knew that, Jon," Brendon said. "What I didn't know was that you grew wings."
"I hate you," Jon groaned.
"You love me," Brendon retorted.
"No, pretty sure this is hate. How the fuck am I supposed to put on a shirt?" He looked up at Brendon, waving the t-shirt at him.
"I don't know. I've never had wings. Go ask Ryan."
"He's never had wings."
"Yeah, but he has gay fashion sense."
Jon made a face, then reached out and grabbed Brendon's arm, dragging the younger boy along with him as he headed back across the hall to the room Spencer and Ryan were sharing. Ryan answered the door with a towel over his head.
"How may I be of service?" he asked from beneath his towel and dripping hair.
"Brendon said you have gay fashion sense and thinks you'll be able to tell me how to put on a shirt," Jon informed Ryan helpfully. Ryan rubbed at his hair through the towel and curled his lip up at Brendon.
"I'm going to start hitting you when you say shit like that," Ryan told Brendon, glaring. Jon believed him. Brendon didn't. "Anyway, how am I supposed to know how to put on a shirt, Jon? I've never had wings."
Jon made a noise of frustration and twitched his wings a little bit. Ryan just watched the wings move. "Why were you so calm about this this morning?" Jon asked him.
"Uh," Ryan said. "What exactly was I going to do about the fact that you've sprouted wings at five o'clock in the morning?"
"Pretend to sympathize? Go into a complete state of denial, like Spencer? Anything, really, Ryan," Jon said. Ryan rolled his eyes.
"I can hear you, Jon Walker. I know where you sleep at night. I'll come for you when you least expect it." Spencer's voice issued from the bathroom. He'd probably just gotten out of the shower.
"You and what army, Spencer Smith?" Jon asked. "I have wings now. Pretty sure I can kick your ass just by looking at you."
"I'm going to pull your feathers out," Spencer threatened. Easy to do when there was a door and Ryan between him and Jon.
"Like hell you will!" Jon protested.
"Oh my God," Ryan said, covering his face with his hands. "Both of you shut up. Find a t-shirt that you don't care if it gets torn up, and come back and we'll cut holes in it and slide your wings through. Or try, anyway. God, why are they so big?"
Jon just stared at Ryan. "... to go with the rest of my anatomy, Ryan."
Ryan made a face.
"Shouldn't we, uh, be trying to figure out how to get rid of them?" Brendon asked. He was half obscured behind Jon's wings, still standing out in the hall. "I mean, uh, yeah, they're cool and all, but uh. They don't really go with our whole... aesthetic."
"Oooh, Brendon. I love it when you use big words like that," Ryan piped up. "It's so sexy."
"If Jon's wings weren't in the way, I'd be hitting you right now," Brendon said. He reached out and petted Jon's wing. He couldn't resist it. Jon's knees almost buckled underneath him.
"Oh my God, don't touch them like that, or right there, or. Fuck. No touching," Jon said. Brendon jerked his hand away like he'd been burnt. Ryan was watching them, fascinated, and Jon was holding onto the doorjamb.
"I think you should keep them," Brendon said quietly.
***
Getting Jon into a shirt turned out to be tricky business. He sat in the middle of the bed while Ryan and Brendon tried to work his wings through holes Ryan had cut into the back of one of Jon's t-shirts. They were trying to be careful, trying not to pull any feathers out while they were doing it.
The first time a feather actually got pulled out, Jon jerked, because it hurt, and the wing moved -- he swore -- on it's own, knocking Ryan off the bed. He sat on the floor and looked up at Jon with his eyes wide and startled, his mouth half open in shock.
"Sorry," Jon said. "I didn't do it on purpose." At least, he didn't think so. He didn't really know how to control the wings at all yet. Brendon was sitting on the bed snickering at poor Ryan. Jon concentrated a little bit on moving the wing, and managed to hit Brendon with it too, knocking him over backward.
"Hey!" he protested.
"That, I meant to do," Jon said. Ryan got up and moved cautiously back onto the bed. "Don't worry, Ryan, I'll try not to do that again. Just don't pull any more feathers out, okay? It hurts."
"Okay," Ryan said, and went back to carefully tucking feathers through the hole in the t-shirt. He sighed. "This isn't working, Jon. It needs to like... tie on."
"I can't go shirtless, Ryan," Jon said.
"No, I know, but I'm saying, it needs to tie on." Ryan sat back and looked at the t-shirt for a minute. Then he reached out for the scissors and started cutting on the t-shirt. He was determined to make it fit.
"Seamstress Ryan," Brendon said. "He's a man of many talents."
"Shut up, Brendon," Ryan said.
Spencer came back in with breakfast while Ryan was busily cutting. He made a face.
"Please tell me that this isn't new costuming," Spencer said. The costumes were already weird enough. He didn't know what Ryan intended to do with that t-shirt, but he was pretty sure that he didn't want to wear it.
"No, I'm trying to make it so that Jon can wear a shirt, Spencer, Jesus," Ryan said, irritable because he was trying to concentrate. Spencer wisely said nothing as he fished through his bag and doled out breakfast sandwiches and hashbrowns, as well as sodas. Ryan ignored his, his tongue poking out of his mouth.
After a few minutes, Ryan put the scissors down and held up the shirt. "Okay," he said, sighing softly. "It's not the best thing ever, and it's not going to look that great, but, you know, you'll be wearing a shirt."
"Yeah. Which is better than nothing, since I'm going to freeze because I can't wear a coat," Jon said unhappily.
"Look, I fixed the t-shirt. Give me some time on the coat, okay? I mean, I could do the same thing to a hoodie, but it wouldn't keep your back very warm," Ryan explained.
"Well," Jon said. "Better than nothing, I guess."
"Yeah," Ryan said, and held the shirt up for Jon to slide on. They got his head and arms through the holes, and Ryan adjusted the three parts of the back so that they fell around Jon's wings. He'd cut them so that he could just tie them back together around the wings, and he got to work doing so.
"What did you do to it?" Jon asked, feeling Ryan's fingers brushing constantly against his back as he tied tight little knots all the way down the back of the t-shirt.
"I cut it up," Ryan said. "You know how you see those girls who cut the sides of t-shirts then tie them back together? That's what I did."
"Pretty brilliant, actually," Spencer said. Ryan beamed at him.
"Now we're never going to hear the end of it," Brendon said. "Don't tell him he's brilliant, Spence. It's bad for his health."
"Why not?" Ryan asked, turning to glare at Brendon, who was happily munching away on Ryan's forgotten potatoes. "It's not like I have an ego like yours or anything."
"Who're you betting on?" Jon asked, looking up at Spencer.
"Ryan, like always," Spencer said. This brought the argument that was blossoming behind Jon to a screeching halt.
"You place bets on our arguments?" Brendon asked.
"Why not? Spencer still owes me twenty bucks from the last one that Ryan lost," Jon said absently.
"Why do you betray me so, Jon?" Ryan whined dramatically. "After all my hard work so that you could wear a shirt."
"Aww, honey," Jon said, turning around and tackling Ryan back onto the bed, digging his fingers into the other boy's ribcage and making him yelp, then dissolve into helpless laughter. "I love you so much!"
Ryan was laughing too hard to respond.
"Brendon's eating your sandwich," Jon told him, once he was tired of tickling, leaving Ryan sprawled red-faced and breathless on the bed. Ryan tipped his head and looked at Brendon.
"If you eat my fucking sandwich I'm going to beat your ass," Ryan threatened. Jon laughed and got off the bed, going to finish getting his stuff to head out.
***
It was hard to hold his wings perfectly still while his costume was adjusted around them. Ryan was giving direction, and someone more knowledgeable about clothing than he was was adjusting Jon's stage costume.
"Why couldn't you have just... decided to do this before the costumes were all made?" She asked, looking up at Ryan. "I mean, wouldn't that have saved time, rather than changing half way through the tour?"
"We needed to do something to change it up," Ryan said smoothly. Jon was always impressed with his ability to lie, even though he couldn't keep the lies straight later on. "We were bored. This is fun." He reached out and poked the wing. Jon turned to glare at him over his shoulder. If he touched the wings, it was going to become very obvious that they were actually attached to Jon's body.
"Well, whatever," the girl said, and went back to sewing up the jacket.
***
Jon shared a room with Ryan that night. This was for two reasons: one, Spencer was so weirded out that he refused to share with Jon, and two, Brendon was constantly trying to touch the wings and he was making Jon crazy. So Jon was defaulted to sharing with Ryan, who was neither weirded out ( oddly enough ) by the presence of Jon's wings, nor did he constantly want to pet them.
Jon had a hard time sleeping, not used to sleeping on his stomach and not being able to lay on his side or back at all. It was uncomfortable, and he just laid there uncomfortably, floating in and out of sleep, listening to Ryan tossing and turning in the other bed.
He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, there was light peeking beneath the curtains. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked at the clock. It was late, and he was still tired. He looked over at the other bed.
Ryan was still asleep, his back to Jon. And Jon knew, that when Ryan woke up, Ryan was not going to be pleased.
Ryan was having his own experience. His pale, bare shoulders were sporting brand new appendages. But apparently, Jon had gotten lucky in the wing department with his pretty angel wings. Ryan hadn't been so lucky.
Stretched out behind Ryan across the bed was a pair of very long, iridescent wings. They were blue and green and sparkled a little bit in the faint light from under the window.
Ryan was going to be so, so pissed when he woke up.
***
"Get my scissors and cut them off," Ryan ordered. He was sitting on the end of the bed, his feet on the floor, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Ryan, they're attached to your body and that's going to hurt like a motherfucker," Jon said. "It hurt when you and Brendon were pulling my feathers yesterday -- fuck, that's weird, my feathers -- and it's going to hurt if we cut your wings off."
"I don't care," Ryan said dramatically. His back and the bed were covered in a very fine layer of glittery dust. "I don't care how much it hurts, I'll go stand in the bathtub so that if I bleed we can wash it off but please, please, please for the love of God and all that is holy cut them off before Brendon sees."
Because this was what was happening: Ryan had faerie wings, and he very, very desperately did not want Brendon Urie to see them. Because, even if they disappeared at some unknown point in the future, he was never, ever going to hear the end of it from Brendon. Years from now, when they were old and wrinkled and looked like Aerosmith, Brendon was going to be calling him a faerie.
Ryan was determined to put a stop to that before it ever started.
Jon walked over and sat down behind Ryan, reaching out and touching the place where Ryan's wings entered into his back. Ryan immediately pulled away from his fingers. As Jon thought, that place was just as sensitive as it was for Jon himself.
"It's going to hurt, Ryan," Jon said. "I mean, it's really, really going to hurt. I'm not doing it."
"I'll get Spencer to do it, then," Ryan said, leaning over and grabbing his Sidekick off the beside table, starting to send a text to Spencer.
"Brendon's going to follow him over here, if he's awake, you know that, right?" Jon asked. Because Brendon was nosy as hell, and wanted to know everything that was going on at all times.
"You won't let Brendon in," Ryan said, sending the text, asking Spencer to come into their room. Then he pulled his legs up against his chest and rested his chin on top of his knees.
Jon reached out and touched his back, making Ryan jump. A little flurry of glitter went up as Ryan moved. Jon snickered. "You shed faerie dust when you move," Jon said, still laughing a little bit. Ryan turned around and gave him a dirty look.
"Shut up," Ryan said. "I wish someone else had shared with you. Maybe they'd have wings instead."
***
Ryan stood with his arms crossed over his chest while Spencer lay on the bed, gasping for air through his laughter. Jon was leaning against the headboard, his wings carefully arranged for maximum comfort. Ryan looked so angry he was about to explode.
"Thanks, Spencer, thanks a lot," he said, his voice icy.
"I'm sorry, Ryan, you have faerie wings," Spencer said. "I mean, Jon's wings are pretty ridiculous, but you have faerie wings."
"I hate you," Ryan whined, flopping down and burying his face into the pillows. He lay that way for a moment before turning and looking at Spencer. "I want you to cut them off. Jon won't do it. I need you to do it."
"Is it going to hurt you?" Spencer asked. He was not really all that willing to do it, since he was pretty sure that the wings were part of Ryan's body now, and he didn't want to be cutting pieces of Ryan off.
"Probably," Jon said.
"I don't care," Ryan said. "It can't hurt that badly."
That was how Ryan came to be standing in the bathtub with Spencer, who held Ryan's scissors. Jon was sitting on the bathroom counter, watching them. He had a towel ready in case Ryan really did start bleeding.
"Okay," Spencer said, sounding nervous, raising the scissors until the base of the wing was between the blades. Then he started to close them.
Ryan let out a scream as soon as the blades touched him. Spencer hadn't even actually done anything, but Ryan couldn't help it. It scared him, and he knew for sure that it was going to hurt. Spencer looked down at the scissors, not even about to penetrate Ryan's.... was it skin? On the base of the wings? Then he looked up at Jon, who had covered his face.
"I didn't even do anything, you big baby," Spencer said.
"Okay, maybe don't cut them off," Ryan said unhappily.
"You have glitter all over your back," Spencer said.
"It's faerie dust, Spencer," Jon said. "Because Ryan's a faerie."
"I'm going to punch you in the face, Jon Walker," Ryan said, frowning at him. He took his scissors back from Spencer and stepped out of the bathtub.
"You wouldn't. You love my face, Ryan Ross," Jon said gleefully, kicking his legs briefly before getting back down onto the floor. "I can't wait for Brendon to see those, though. He'll love them."
"I hate you all," Ryan groaned, and stomped out of the bathroom, throwing himself back across one of the beds.
***
Brendon, Ryan had decided, was totally a dick.
He decided it around the point where Brendon laid eyes on the pretty, sparkly wings that had sprouted from his back and started laughing. He laughed so hard that he sank back against the wall, all but crying with laughter and clutching his stomach. Ryan walked over and kicked him.
Brendon let out a yelp and didn't quite stop laughing, but he threw his arms out and wrapped them around Ryan's legs, dragging him down. Ryan gave his own yelp and threw his hands out, bracing himself on the wall as he tried to keep from going down. He hit the floor and cried out with pain. Brendon let go of him quickly and sat up, not laughing anymore.
"I landed on my wings," Ryan said pitifully. Brendon just started laughing again. Ryan shifted so that he wasn't laying on his wings anymore, and kicked Brendon again. "I hate you."
Brendon twisted around and threw his arms around Ryan. "But I love you," he said obnoxiously. Ryan made a face and pushed at him, trying to get him off.
"Get away," Ryan whined at him, pushing ineffectually at Brendon.
"But Ryan," Brendon whined back in the same tone. "I want to pet your pretty, pretty wings. I want to loooove you."
"You're going to be covered in glitter," Spencer said.
"Glitter?" Brendon asked.
"Ryan sheds faerie dust," Jon said from his place on the bed. "Like, whenever he moves."
"That is awesome!" Brendon said. Ryan hit him again, and they wrestled around a little bit before just sprawling out on the floor. Brendon tipped his head and looked over at Ryan. "So what are we going to do? I mean, about the wings?"
"What do you mean, what are we going to do? They have to stay where they are," Ryan said. "We just... have to make them disappear."
"Yeah, because we can't cut them off," Jon said.
"How do you know?" Brendon asked, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair. He noticed that he had very fine sparkly dust all over his t-shirt. Ryan really did shed faerie dust.
"Spencer tried to cut Ryan's off," Jon said. "Ryan screamed like a girl before Spence ever actually did anything. It was actually kind of funny."
"It was not funny," Ryan snapped.
"Dude, it was totally fucking funny," Spencer said. "I didn't even touch you, and you screamed. And Jon covered his face."
"You're totally ruthless, Spencer," Brendon said. "Show me how."
"It's my secret power, Brendon," Spencer said. "If I show you, I have to kill you."
Brendon pouted.
***
"You know," said the seamstress, giving a dirty look to the back of Ryan's head. "You could have told me last night that you were going to be wearing these. Then I could have at least been working on your costume."
"I didn't know. We just thought that, you know, we'd see how Jon wearing them went over before I tried it," Ryan explained.
"Why didn't you pick wings like Jon's, instead?" she asked him.
"Because I didn't want to do the same thing," Ryan said. He was lying, she was even pretty sure he was lying. The kid must have lost a bet or something.
"Just let me know beforehand if Brendon or Spencer decide to do this. At least then I could get a jump-start on fixing this," she told Ryan.
"Of course," Ryan said, though he knew that there was no way that they could know if Brendon or Spencer were going to wake up with wings the next morning.
***
The only problem with the wings, was that because of the way Jon's were shaped, he no longer fit in his bunk. They were just too large, too wide to fit. Ryan fit because his were smaller, because they were structured differenly. Jon considered this to be unfair, because now he was having to sleep on the floor in the back lounge, because he couldn't find a comfortable position to lay in with his wings on the couch.
Jon was sure that he never, ever would have sprouted wings if he hadn't joined this band.
He sighed and smacked his hand into his pillow, trying to figure out a way to get comfortable at all. The lounge door pushed open and Brendon slipped in, coming in and laying down on the floor next to Jon.
"What do you want?" Jon asked him tiredly. He didn't feel like putting up with Brendon's shit right that minute.
"I just wanted to see how you were doing," Brendon said.
The moon was shining faintly through the blinds and Jon looked hard at Brendon, unsure whether he was being sincere or not. Sometimes with Brendon he couldn't really tell.
"I'm fine," Jon said.
"You're laying on the floor," Brendon said.
"Yeah, well, I don't fit in my bunk or on the couch with these stupid wings," Jon said unhappily. He was stretched out on his stomach with his face turned to the side. Brendon shifted and lifted one hand up, trailing his fingertips down the bare skin between Jon's wings, making Jon jerk.
"Brendon, what are you doing?" Jon asked, a little weirded out. Brendon pulled his hand away.
"I just," he started, then faltered and gave up. He was quiet for a moment, which was really rare for Brendon, and that meant that he was thinking really, really hard. "Look, I know that this is going to sound really stupid, but I think. Your wings are really hot and I want to touch them. A lot."
"What? Brendon, that's--"
Jon broke off, because Brendon was touching his wings. Jon had already learned that certain parts of his wings were more sensitive than others, and caused certain reactions in his body. Reactions that he didn't necessarily want to be having with Brendon.
"Don't. Don't touch me there," Jon whispered.
"I want to," Brendon said. And he didn't stop, either.
"Brendon, please don't," Jon whispered to him. Brendon pulled his hand away, curling it up between them as he shared Jon's pillow.
"Does it really bother you that much?" Brendon whispered back. Maybe the whispers were to keep anyone else from hearing. Jon wasn't sure.
"No, it's just." Jon started. "It's weird, Brendon, because."
"Because you don't do guys," Brendon said. Jon noticed that he didn't move, however.
"No, because we're in the same band," Jon said, rolling his eyes at him. Brendon frowned.
"Look, I'm being serious," Brendon said.
"I'm being serious too," Jon returned. Brendon sighed, then pushed himself up and left the lounge.
Jon sighed and buried his face into the pillows.
This whole wing thing sucked.
***
Jon was a mess when he stumbled down the hallway and into the kitchen the next morning. Spencer and Ryan were already there, squished onto one side of the booth, Ryan on the outside, his wings brushing the floor beside his feet. They both looked up when Jon walked in, and Ryan paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth.
"You look like shit," Spencer said.
"I feel like shit," Jon said, walking over and opening up some of the cabinets, looking for something to eat. Why didn't they have any food? The only thing in one of them was a box of cereal that Jon was sure was probably stale. His stomach growled. "Why is there no food?"
"Because we didn't buy any?" Spencer said. Ryan just went back to eating his cereal. That box was sitting on the table and was carefully labelled "RYAN" in block letters with sharpie. Which was stupid, Jon thought, since it was some sort of gross cereal that he wouldn't have eaten for money.
"Life sucks right now," Jon said, walking over and sliding into the booth. Brendon came stumbling into the kitchen, jerking the fridge open. Jon twisted around, and he, Ryan, and Spencer all watched Brendon as he reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of juice.
"What?" Brendon asked, reaching up and patting down the shock of messy hair standing up all around his head. "What?"
Ryan snickered a little bit and went back to eating.
"I don't have wings," Brendon declared, then shot Jon a dirty look and stalked out of the room, down the hallway and into the lounge, slamming the door behind him.
"What crawled up his ass and died?" Spencer asked.
"Are you kidding?" Ryan asked. "He's always like that. And he doesn't have any right, either, since he doesn't have fucking fairy wings. I brushed glitter out of my teeth this morning, you guys. Seriously. Brendon can suck it up."
Jon snorted. He was pretty sure he knew exactly what Brendon's problem was.
***
"I wonder if I can fly," Jon said absently. He and Ryan were sitting backstage at the arena. Spencer had managed to coerce Zack into taking him shopping, and Brendon, not wanting to hang around where Jon was ( Jon thought, anyway ). Ryan had been talking on the phone and had waved them off when they'd asked him. Jon hadn't wanted to go with Brendon, not after what had happened in the lounge the night before.
"I don't know," Ryan said, not looking up from his sidekick. "I'm sure I can't. I don't care how skinny I am, there's no way these pathetic things are going to hold me up." To prove the point, he fluttered his wings a little bit.
"I can't imagine that mine wouldn't," Jon said. "They'll probably hold me and you both up."
"Why don't you try it by yourself first?" Ryan suggested. He didn't want Jon taking flight with him and then... dropping him, or something.
"I don't think the ceiling is tall enough," Jon said, standing up. He frowned as he tried to figure out how to flap his wings. It was harder than it seemed like it should be. Ryan cheered as Jon got them moving, his hair flying around his face and the sparkling dust that was all over his wings and his body and his clothes started blowing around in the wind created by Jon trying to take off.
His bare feet lifted a few inches off the ground and he pumped his fist into the air. He was going to be able to fly! Of course, the instant that he did it, he lost his concentration on what he was doing with his wings and fell. He wasn't ready for it, and he fel backward onto his butt. Ryan fell over on the couch, laughing.
"You took off!" he said.
"I took off," Jon yelled, reaching out and shaking Ryan. "I am totally going to be able to fly."
"Do it!" Ryan yelled. "Do it!"
Jon pushed himself to his feet and got to work again. Faerie dust and loose paper began fluttering around everywhere. Jon's feet lifted off of the ground again and Ryan covered his mouth because he couldn't stop it from hanging open and his own faerie dust was getting in.
Jon's head bumped against the ceiling tiles and he leaned forward. That action started him moving across the room. "I am fucking Superman!" he yelled to Ryan. Then he crashed into the wall and stared at it in shock. Wow, he was actually pretty fast. Ryan was already sprawled out on the couch, he was laughing so hard. Jon dropped back down onto the ground and hurried back over to Ryan.
"I flew," Jon said excitedly. "I took off."
"And you crashed into the wall," Ryan said through his laughter.
"Yeah, but I flew. The fact that I crashed into the wall while i was doing it doesn't mean anything," Jon said.
"Oh come on, that was totally the best part," Ryan said, cracking up. Jon slapped him, openhanded on the arm. Ryan made a face at him and sat up, smoothing down his hair.
"Let's see you take off and fly across the room, then," Jon said. Ryan made a face at him. "At least try, dude."
Ryan got up and fluttered his wings. Glitter went everywhere. But the more he moved them, the less the glitter flew off of them. He wished that he'd known that earlier. Apparently moving his wings cleaned them off. He wondered if the glitter would just come back. Did it grow back? It didn't matter.
His wings didn't create quite the windstorm that Jon's had. And they barely lifted him off the ground, no matter how hard and fast he moved them. He let them flutter to a stop and looked at Jon.
"I can't fly," he said sadly. Jon pouted at him and then walked over to him.
"I can try and pick you up?" Jon said.
Ryan shrugged. "Don't pull a wing muscle."
Jon snorted and looked at Ryan. "How the hell am I going to pick you up, though? Like... I don't know. I can't just pick you up around the waist, because that won't work."
"Well, I can't piggyback and I'm not wrapping my legs around your waist," Ryan said.
"Well, I'm not going to be able to just pick you up in my arms, Ryan," Jon said. Ryan sighed. They stood there and looked at each other for a moment.
"So what do we do?" Ryan asked after a few minutes.
"I don't know, learn how to fly yourself?" Jon said.
"Jon," Ryan whined at him. "Pick me up. You know I'm not that heavy."
"Yeah, but." Jon said.
"You won't drop me and break my neck, or anything else, for that matter," Ryan said. He flexed his arm. "I'm tough."
"Yeah, right," Jon said, but picked Ryan up anyway. It was awkward, and Ryan wrapped his arms around Jon and held on for dear life as Jon started moving his wings. Ryan almost screamed, and definitely held on tighter when he realized that they'd left the ground.
"You're choking me," Jon managed to say. Ryan loosened his grip, but very little. Jon flew them around the room, Ryan clinging to him the entire time.
The door opened and Spencer and Brendon walked back in, stopping in the door and staring at the spectacle of Jon just fluttering around, leaving a little trail of glittery dust behind him from where he was carrying Ryan. He swooped -- honestly swooped, making Brendon yelp and duck behind Spencer for protection -- and deposited Ryan on the ground right beside them.
"Jon can fly," Ryan said, a little breathless, fairy dust stuck all over his skin. Spencer noticed that he even had it in his mouth, because he could see it on Ryan's tongue when he spoke.
"I can fly," Jon told them, landing right next to Ryan with a huge grin on his face.
Brendon made a little noise and turned around. "Let me know when you're done with this whole, hey, we have wings, let's enjoy them thing," he said, then slammed the door on his way out.
"What the fuck?" Ryan asked, completely confused.
"I'll go talk to him," Jon said, and pushed between Spencer and Ryan to follow Brendon. He caught up with him in the hallway.
"Dude, what the fuck?" he asked. Brendon stopped and looked at him, then turned back around, resuming his diva stomp down the hall. "Brendon!"
"Leave me alone!" Brendon snapped. Jon reached out and grabbed his arm and jerked him to a stop.
"Brendon. What the hell? Seriously," Jon said. "What's your problem today?"
"You're just. Carrying Ryan around like nothing happened," Brendon said.
"Nothing did happen, Brendon, what the fuck are you talking about," Jon asked, completely lost.
"No, you just turned me down and now you're all. Carrying Ryan around," Brendon snapped.
Jon just stared at him. What the hell was going on? Jon had just been carrying Ryan because Ryan's wings really couldn't do more than pick himself up maybe an inch up off the ground with his own wings.
"Are you jealous of Ryan?" Jon asked, looking at Brendon seriously.
He watched Brendon fidget for a few minutes, not seeming to want to admit to it. Then he finally sighed. "So what if I am? Why aren't you picking me up and carrying me around?"
"Because you were being a pissy bitch and went shopping with Spencer."
Brendon's mouth opened, then closed, then opened. Jon felt a small thrill of pride when nothing came out, because how ofted did someone render Brendon Urie speechless? He always had something to say.
"I was carrying Ryan because we both have wings," Jon said. "We were trying to make this not seem so horrible. You were trying to feel me up."
"I wasn't -- okay, I was, Jon, but." He took a deep breath. "I think the wings are really, really... hot. And I want to touch them, and I'm sorry if that turns you on, but I really, really want to touch them."
"I can't let you, Brendon," Jon said.
"Why not?" Brendon asked. Jon just stared at him. Why the hell was he being so fucking stubborn about this? Jon wasn't interested in Brendon that way. He was attractive, Jon knew that, but seriously? He didn't sleep with bandmates. That ruined bands, and it didn't matter how good looking Brendon was.
"Look, Brendon, seriously? I like being in this band. You like being in this band. We're not going to fucking destroy this great thing we've got just because you want to touch my fucking wings and turn me on," Jon snapped at him.
"We're not going to fuck up the band!" Brendon protested. "That's not what I want to do. I just want to touch them, and if that turns you on, then, well, I guess. I'll do whatever you want me to do."
"Brendon, I don't want to have sex with you, or whatever you're offering," Jon said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Look, me sleeping with someone in this band didn't ruin it before, and it's not going to now," Brendon said. "It's just. It happened, and it was done, and when your wings are gone I probably won't want it anymore."
"When you pick up girls, are they all fans who just go for it because you're Brendon Urie?" Jon asked. "Because saying shit like that will never, ever get you laid. Anywhere. Ever."
"Jon," Brendon said. "I want to make out with you, seriously. And I want to touch your wings and did I mention I want to make out with you? Because I do."
"But only because I have wings," Jon said. "And they turn you on."
"No, because you're fucking hot, Jon Walker. It's just the wings that put me over the edge."
"Brendon, no," Jon said, and walked back into the dressing room, leaving Brendon standing in the hallway.
***
Ryan flopped down onto the floor in the lounge beside Jon that night, fluttering his wings slightly. Jon closed his mouth up, trying to make sure that he didn't get any faerie dust into it.
"Brendon says you're being a bitch," Ryan said. Jon watched him kick one leg into the air, waving it back and forth as he made himself comfortable next to Jon on the pallet he'd made up on the floor.
"I'm sorry, what? Brendon's calling someone a bitch," Jon asked, turning his head and looking at Ryan. Their faces weren't that far away from each other as they lay there.
"He said you won't let him touch your wings," Ryan said.
"It turns me on," Jon said. "It feels so good, Ryan, and I don't want him doing that to me."
"Why not?" Ryan asked. "That doesn't make any sense, Jon. If it feels good, and he wants it, then why not do it? You don't want it?"
"No, Ryan, I'm not going to fuck up the band just so I can get off," Jon said, frowning at Ryan, who made a face.
"Jon, it's not going to fuck up the band," Ryan said. "I've slept with Brendon, it didn't fuck anything up. He's really good about not being a pain. And yeah, it means something, but it's not like... it's not like it's, oh, we broke up or whatever. We're friends."
"And Brendon and I are friends, and I want it to stay that way. And it might not if we do this," Jon said.
"I think it'll be fine, Jon, seriously. It hasn't broken us up before, and it won't break us up in the future," Ryan said, kissing Jon on the end of his nose, then pushing himself up and walking back out of the lounge, closing the door behind him.
Jon sighed and buried his face into the pillow.
***
Brendon didn't speak to Jon for three days. And at first, it was nice, but after the second day of Brendon playing telephone with him through Spencer and Ryan, Ryan finally got fed up and exploded all over Jon, telling him that he'd best make things up with Brendon and giving him a healthy coating of glitter as he stalked out of the room.
After he'd brushed the glitter out of his teeth, his beard, and his hair, Jon went to find Brendon. He found him, sitting in the back lounge, mashing frantically at buttons as he got destroyed onscreen. As the game over screen showed up, Brendon looked up at Jon, then dropped the controller and stood up to leave the room.
"Oh, for fuck's sake. Sit down." Jon said. Brendon ignored him and started out. Jon sighed and stood right in the doorway so that Brendon couldn't leave.
"Get out of the way," Brendon said, and if Jon had had his way, the first words Brendon had said to him in three days wouldn't have been those.
"No," Jon said. "So sit down and stop being a fucking diva. Have you slept with Ryan?"
Brendon's mouth dropped open, and yeah, Jon was being pretty straightforward about things, but still. "No?" Brendon said. And okay, Brendon probably shouldn't have lied. Was this Jon's business?
"Not what Ryan said," Jon said, crossing his arms. "In fact, he said you were together, broke up, and the band was fine, so I should sleep with you because really, it would be okay."
"He probably didn't say it like that," Brendon said.
"Pretty much did," Jon said. "That was the gist of it. Anyway, what the hell, when were you sleeping with Ryan?"
"Before you joined the band. Hell, before we were ever. While we were recording? Ryan and I, you know. It's not a big deal. He's kind of sleeping with Spencer now anyway," Brendon said, shrugging slightly. Like this didn't matter. Like the fact that he'd, oh, dated his bandmate or whatever wasn't a big deal.
"Ryan and Spencer are... what?" Jon asked. This was so confusing, and possibly more information than he ever wanted to know.
"Fucking," Brendon said, looking straight at Jon. "Or dating. Or whatever it is that they do."
"Oh," Jon said, his mouth staying int he shape of the letters.
"It's not a thing. Well, I mean, it's a thing, it's our thing. Like. I don't know." Brendon shrugged again. "I was sleeping with Spencer when we kicked Brent out, it was just. I don't know. Something that's between the three of us?"
"I joined the gayest band in the history of existence," Jon said, sinking down onto the couch with a sigh.
"Well, probably not, but... look, I don't want to run you off," Brendon said. "So if you feel better, you know, not doing it, then that's fine. I'm not going to hold it against you and... well, neither is anyone else."
"Why didn't I know this before?" Jon asked.
"I guess you just didn't notice. It's not like it's something special, anyway. It's just..." Brendon shrugged helplessly. He didn't know how to explain it, and it had been really strange at first. But now it was just something that happened. Ryan and Spencer shared a room most of the time, anyway.
"Brendon," Jon said. "This is something that destroys most bands. People start sleeping together, and then, you know, bands break up."
Brendon got up and walked over, kneeling on the floor in front of Jon, looking up at him.
"I don't know if you've noticed this, but this band is not like other bands," Brendon said, then leaned up and pressed his lips to Jon's.
Jon let him do it. Jon kissed him back.
He was so, so screwed.
***
Jon lay on the floor on his pallet, face down, with his arms folded beneath his head, eyes closed. Brendon's fascination with his wings was turning out to be a very good thing for him indeed, considering that it had, currently, resulted in Brendon lying on the floor beside him, stroking his fingers over the wings.
Jon was pretty sure that he'd never been this turned on in his life.
Brendon kept kissing his shoulder, brushing his fingers over the feathers like they were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. And Jon had to admit, seeing someone with angel wings was probably pretty fascinating, but Brendon normally had the attention span of a gnat. And here he was, laying there, watching his fingers move over feathers.
"Jon," he whispered after a long while, his fingers stilling and his hand moving to rest against warm skin at the base of the wings. "I want you to. Um. I mean, if you want, we could." Jon raised an eyebrow, looking at Brendon. He was pretty sure he knew what Brendon wanted.
"What?" Jon asked. He wanted to hear Brendon say it. It was sort of sick of him to do, but he wanted Brendon to ask him for it, now that they were laying there on the floor together.
Brendon leaned in close. "I want you to. Just. I want you to fuck me." He finally managed to get it out, then closed the distance between his mouth and Jon's, kissing the other boy hard, his hand coming up to tangle into Jon's hair. Jon shifted.
The way he figured it, if Brendon wanted this, and if he swore it wouldn't do anything, wouldn't mess anything up, then Jon could roll with it. And if it was awkward, then, well.... he'd figure out a way to make things better. But, Jon figured, if it didn't mess things up when it involved Ryan, then things would be okay if they involved him.
He just kissed Brendon in return and tipped him onto his back.
***
The thing about Brendon, is that he didn't really know how to be quiet. Ever, about anything, except when he was sulking, and that generally involved a lot of sighing and being generally dramatic.
Brendon was not capable of being quiet during sex, so that the other people around didn't know it was going on.
Spencer was sure that whatever it was, it was going well, because Brendon was definitely enjoying it and -- dammit, did they have to do it on the bus? He struggled out of his bunk and lurched sleepily down the hallway to the front lounge, where Ryan was bundled up into a faerie dust-covered blanket, playing with something on his computer. Spencer slid into the seat beside him and tugged at the blankets.
Ryan put up a half-hearted fight before letting Spencer adjust the blanket so that it was wrapped around the both of them. "I'm cold," he said. "You're letting a draft in."
"Wear more clothes," Spencer said, because Ryan wasn't wearing a shirt.
"I'd do it, but you know, the less of my clothes destroyed the better," Ryan said, then went back to what he was working on. Spencer snuggled up to him.
"Jon and Brendon have made up," Spencer told him helpfully.
"I know," Ryan said. "I put my headphones on so I couldn't hear."
"I should've thought of that," Spencer said sleepily, leaning against Ryan's shoulder. He could hear Brendon crying out in the back. He sighed. Ryan turned his head and kissed the top of Spencer's.
"Get them and go back to sleep. If you fall asleep here you're going to fall out in the floor," Ryan said. "Then I'll get drafty under my blanket."
"Mm," Spencer said absently, already half asleep against Ryan. Ryan just smiled and shook his head a little bit, working with the opposite hand now that the other one was pinned down by Spencer leaning against him. But that was fine.
Everything was fine.
***
"Okay, carry me," Brendon said. They were all sitting in the dressing room, bored before the show. Brendon was trying to convince Jon to entertain him, and Spencer was reading with Ryan asleep with his head pillowed on Spencer's thigh, his back to them and his wings trailed out across the floor.
Jon had actually been suprised, because nothing had changed, except that Brendon was less bitchy now that he was getting what he wanted and he touched Jon a lot more, just little lingering trails of his fingers on Jon's side or hand or wings. And now he was demanding that Jon fly him around the room.
"You're heavier than Ryan," Jon said, by way of excusing himself from having to do it. Brendon actually stomped his foot, crossing his arms over his chest. Spencer snorted, and Ryan shifted in his sleep at the noise.
"Just try, Jon, please?" Brendon pouted. How was Jon supposed to say no to that? Brendon was just going to be harder to pick up, was all.
"Fine, but if I sprain my wings, you're going to be the one who has to hear me bitching," Jon said, and figured that picking Brendon up would have to happen first.
Brendon was little, but he was a lot heavier than Ryan was, and it was harder for Jon to hold him up in his arms while he concentrated on working his wings, trying to get them up off the ground. Spencer made a noise at the wind that kicked up, blowing the pages of his book, his hair in his face, and glitter off of Ryan's wings around. Ryan made a noise and covered his face, pressing himself closer to Spencer, burying his face into the other boy's stomach.
Jon managed to get them both off the ground, but couldn't seem to get any real height. Brendon clung to him, because to him, they were actually pretty far up off the ground, and he could foresee bruises if Jon dropped him. He didn't want Jon to drop him. Jon flew them across the room and back, before he finally settled down onto the ground.
"I don't want to get like, totally tired out before the show, you know?" Jon explained. Brendon grinned and kissed him gleefully.
"You can fly," he said, then laughed, bouncing off to do... God really knew what, considering that it was Brendon. Jon shrugged a little and walked over and sat down on the floor, tugging his laptop out of the bag. Spencer stroked Ryan's hair, fixing it as the other boy relaxed back into sleep after the maelstrom of Jon's beating wings.
"He might be excited, but I'll be glad when these things are gone and I can sleep in a bed instead of on the floor," Jon said. "Even bunks would be better than the floor."
Spencer made a face. "That makes it sound horrible," he said. Bunks were no fun. "But, you know. Brendon."
"Hey, if he doesn't want to keep sleeping with me when this is all over, then, you know, whatever," Jon said. He was trying to convince himself that it didn't really matter to him.
"Yeah," Spencer said, but with a tone in his voice that said he didn't believe Jon any more than Jon believed himself.
Jon watched him playing with Ryan's hair while his computer booted up, and hoped that nothing would change when this was all over.
***
Jon woke up lying on his back with Brendon curled up around him, his face pressed into Jon's shoulder.
The important part was where Jon woke up on his back, with no signs that he ever had wings. He shook Brendon gently. "Brendon," he said, then shook harder, wanting the other boy to wake up, wanting him to know that his wings were gone.
Brendon woke up slowly, and he looked at Jon. "Your wings are gone," he said sleepily. Then he shifted, snuggling closer to Jon and throwing one arm across him. "That's good." And promptly fell back asleep.
Jon reached out and picked a feather out of Brendon's hair, reaching over and putting it on the bedside table. Who knew, maybe Brendon would want to keep it as a souvenier.
***
"Okay, that is not fucking fair," Ryan said, glaring at Jon when they all arrived downstairs that morning. He was still adorned with his pretty color-marbled, glittery wings. He looked about three seconds away from smoke trickling out his ears.
"It's not like I have control over this, Ryan," Jon said. It was too early for dramatics and Brendon was sort of sticking close to him, and had been all morning. But Jon had seen him tuck the feather away for safekeeping. That had made him smile.
"Maybe they'll go away tomorrow," Brendon said brightly as they picked over the continental breakfast provided by the hotel. It was pretty decent for picking. "I mean, you did get yours later than Jon got his."
"Why are you so fucking perky?" Ryan asked. Spencer stepped between them immediately, heading off the fight that he was sure was about to ensue. Brendon didn't answer, and was instead concentrating on making waffles. Ryan let it go with a frustrated little sigh.
He stalked all the way across the room and sat down at a table with two chairs, giving Spencer a pointed look, clearly saying that he should follow. Spencer looked at Jon and sighed dramatically.
"You just had to get rid of your wings and Ryan keep his, didn't you," he said. Jon cracked a smile, looking up at Spencer, before Spencer grabbed a pair of muffins and wandered off to sit with Ryan while he sulked.
"I want them to go away. I want to wear nice clothes. I hate this," Ryan said, as soon as Spencer was seated. He was half watching Brendon and Jon eating across the room. "I hope that the cure is not sex with Brendon. Because seriously. I don't want to get into the middle of that."
"Ryan..." Spencer said, then rolled his eyes, picking off bits of his muffin and eating them. He nudged the other one toward Ryan, who reached out and picked the top off of it, taking a bite.
"No, I mean it. I don't want to get into the middle of whatever the fuck is going on with him and Jon, and obviously sex is not the cure to this kind of thing because if it was, I would've been cured a long ass time ago," Ryan said.
"I don't know what to tell you," Spencer said. "But I will say that Brendon was right, Jon did get his wings a day before you did, so hopefully tomorrow morning, they'll be gone."
"Hopefully," Ryan said. Spencer knew that was the end of the conversation. After this long, he knew when Ryan was just going to clam up and just not keep talking. Now was one of those times.
Spencer hoped that the wings going away would make Ryan less bitchy for a while.
***
The wings were temporary. Ryan woke up the next morning, wingless and still covered in glitter. He sat on the bed for a long time, looking at the shimmery dust that was all over his arms and legs and he wondered if he'd miss it. It was stupid, because the day before, he'd been pissed off that Jon had lost his wings and Ryan hadn't yet.
And now he was sad that they were actually gone.
This was stupid.
He got up off the bed and went to shower. He just needed to get the glitter off of him.
***
"I was hoping that you'd, you know, be happier about the whole not having wings thing," Spencer said. They were squished into his bunk together, just barely, trying to ignore the fact that Brendon and Jon were totally making out in the back lounge.
"I was used to them, I guess," Ryan said, snuggling closer to Spencer.
"You were not, you hated them. And now you're not going to be waking up with glitter in your mouth. I'm not going to be waking up with glitter in my mouth."
"I liked having wings," Ryan finally said after a long moment. "I wish that I'd had wings like Jon's, though. I would've liked to fly."
"Boys weren't meant to fly," Spencer said.
"Then why did I get wings?"
"Because you're a faerie."
"Fuck you!"
"Yes please," Spencer said, grinning and kissing Ryan lightly. "But seriously, Ry, don't be so fucking down about it. Now you can wear regular clothes and coats and not freeze to death."
"I can go shopping," Ryan said, suddenly more bouyant. "I can wear clothes! Coats! Mmm, warm." Spencer cracked up as Ryan snuggled closer, holding the blanket tightly around them.
"See. It's good the wings go away. And the glitter didn't taste all that great," Spencer pointed out.
"That's --" Ryan broke off as they heard Brendon moan from the lounge. "Oh, fuck him."
"I guess Jon was really worried about Brendon not wanting to jump him anymore after the wings went away," Spencer said.
"Yeah, and now we're going to have to hear it," Ryan said. Spencer suddenly had an idea, and slipped out of the bunk. "Hey, get the fuck back here. You were keeping me warm!"
"Hold on!" Spencer said. Ryan could hear him rummaging around hin his own bunk, and then he was back, with his ipod and the speakers. He set them up at teh head of the bunk, above Ryan's head, and turned it on, loud enough that it would drown out Brendon's noises, but not be too loud for them to fall asleep. Then Spencer slipped back underneath the blanket and snuggled up to Ryan. "Fixed," he said.
"Definitely fixed," Ryan said, smiling brightly. They made themselves as comfortable as they could with two people packed into the bunk. Ryan tucked himself in against Spencer and closed his eyes.
"If you still had wings we couldn't do this," Spencer said.
"I know," Ryan admitted.
"So be glad that they're gone," Spencer said.
"I am. I am glad," Ryan said.
Spencer closed his own eyes and just concentrated on the sound of the music and Ryan breathing against him, blocking out everything else in the world.