Fic for Bec! Panic! GSF (ft Brent)
Title: Untitled as yet (Which means someone should tell me what to call it)
Fandom/Pairing: Bandom. Panic! GSF (Ryan/Spencer/Brendon/Brent)
Rating: R? I guess? It’s not too graphic
Disclaimer: Sooooo did not happen. Really. All fictional.
Warnings: Um. Brent? Wee bit of angst.
Summary: The boys help Ryan pack for college, have a bit of an angst session, and solve their problems with porn. You know, the traditional way of working things out.
A/N: This was supposed to be a wee drabblet for glamorous_nymph. It somehow turned into this, which, I have to add, only happened because I texted her and said I wanted to make it GSF, but Brent was in it. And after much deliberation her reply was I hate you! Write it. I hate you! and so I have and she’d better not bloody hate me. Hon, this is probably going to be your Xmas fic, since I may not get the other things I was planning to write for you done. Hope that’s okay. Please forgive the Brent. Also, you guys should all know that I wanted to call this fic ‘Packing Heat’. But I have not. Because mostly my lameness only amuses me, and this is for Bec. Someone should give it an awesome title though. Okay? ILU BB. Completely unbetaed cos I wanted her to read it too much to wait.
The day before Ryan leaves for college, Spencer and Brendon and Brent come round to help him pack.
Although ‘help’ is maybe not quite the right word.
“Spencer,” Ryan says, snatching a t-shirt off his friend. “I appreciate this, really, but could you maybe, I don’t know, fold things? I don’t want to have to go in on my first day all crumpled and creased.”
Spencer very carefully snatches the shirt back and folds it slowly and precisely, lining up the corners perfectly, before handing the shirt to Brendon and going to sit on the edge of Ryan’s bed. He crosses one leg over the other, folds his hands neatly on top and gives Ryan a pissy look.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Ryan says. “It’s just…Brendon! I already packed those things! Why are you putting them back in the drawer?”
Brendon pauses, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Um,” he says.
”Seriously, you guys,” Ryan stomps over and pushes Brendon out of the way, picking up the pile of clothes Brendon had just placed there, and dumping them into his suitcase. “I don’t need this. I don’t understand why you’re being so-“
“Don’t go,” Brent says, and Ryan looks at him in surprise. When they’d arrived, Brent had gone and sat in Ryan’s desk chair and not said a word, just watched the others or idly browsed through the books in the cardboard box on the desk. Ryan had thought, of all of them, Brent would be the least bothered to see him leave but he’d obviously been wrong.
He looks over at Spencer, who is busy checking out his cuticles very intently, then over at Brendon who is frowning at the ground and scuffing the floor with the toe of his sneaker.
“I’m not going that far,” Ryan reminds them. “I’ll be, like, an hour away. Two at the most. I’ll be back all the time. And you guys can come and visit me.”
Brendon snorts. “You know my mom won’t let me. And you’ll be caught up with your new friends. Maybe you’ll even get a new band…”
Ryan sighs. “Spencer,” he says, and his friend looks up at him, bangs falling in his eyes. “You don’t think that too, do you?”
Spencer shrugs, which for him is as good as a yes, and Brent nods in agreement.
“I’m not going to, like, forget about you guys or anything. That’s crazy talk. I’m just…god, I need to get out of this place. You can understand that, right?”
Brendon moves to sit on the bed and hooks his chin over Spencer’s shoulder. “I thought we were all going to get out of here together,” he says. “I thought we were going to make it big and never look back?”
Ryan closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “We are!” he says, moving to the window and staring out into the street below. It’s a good neighbourhood- there are a couple of kids playing on their bikes, a guy washing his car, someone else walking their dog. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t miss this place, it was just…he needed to get out. “We will make it big,” he says, turning back to his friends. “I just…this is a back up plan. In case…in case we don’t.”
Brendon jerks, banging his head against Spencer’s with an audible clunk. Spencer swears and exchanges a look with Brent, who slides out of the chair and moves to stand beside the bed, hands shoved deep into his pockets, biting his lip as he looks at Ryan. There is disappointment in his eyes that is echoed in Spencer’s, but it’s not as bad as the hurt clearly written across Brendon’s face. Justified too, Ryan thinks, since it had always been the others who would speak like this, talk of their plans for the future should the band fail to go where Ryan always insisted it would. Ryan suspects that they’d never really believed in Ryan’s grand plans, but the fact that Ryan appeared to care, that he was adamant there was no other possible future for them, had been some source of comfort, some hope for them.
“In case we don’t,” Spencer echoes, and Brendon presses himself back against Spencer’s back, clutching at his arm. “Fuck, Ryan.”
“I’m sorry,” Ryan says. “I…I do believe we will. I swear I do. But…I don’t want to end up thirty, working in a shitty dead end job and living for the weekend and band practices while everyone else around us grows up and gets on with life.”
Brent shakes his head and turns away, staring intently at the Morrissey poster above Ryan’s bed.
Spencer stands up suddenly, giving one decisive little nod. Then he walks over to Ryan’s closet and throws open the doors, pulling clothes from hangers and shoving them haphazardly into Ryan’s open suitcase.
“Guys,” Spencer says, and then Brendon is moving too, grabbing armfuls of Ryan’s shoes while Brent picks up a box and shoves the contents of a bookshelf into it.
“Wait,” Ryan says. “Stop. Guys, come on. Don’t be pissed off-“
Spencer slams the full suitcase shut and reaches for an empty one. “We’re not,” he says, voice tight in that way Ryan knows means he’s resisting the urge to punch something. Or someone. “We’re helping. We said we’d help- you wanted us to help, remember?- and so we are. Think about it. The quicker you pack, the quicker you can go and enjoy your backup plan.”
“This isn’t fair,” Ryan says, folding his arms across his chest as he watched his friends, his band mates, demolish the room he’d lived out the last 18 years in. “I don’t see why it always has to be me, Spence. Why do I always have to be the one who keeps the dream going, who tells you it’s going to be alright? Don’t I deserve a little insecurity, a little self doubt? Don’t I get a chance to dream of a future other than the one we all talk about, work towards? Don’t I get a chance of a happily ever after, even if the story doesn’t go the way we want it to?”
Brendon pauses as he’s about to throw a shoe into the suitcase, catching it on the very tip of his fingers, and lets it fall to the floor. Brent looks to Spencer, who has stopped mid stride, and then moves to Ryan, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Ryan,” Spencer says, opens his mouth to say more maybe, but then Ryan leans forward without thinking and kisses him.
Spencer makes a surprised noise and pulls back, meeting Ryan’s gaze with confused eyes. “I don’t-“
“Sorry,” Ryan says, and kisses him again. This time the noise Spencer makes is less surprise and more assent, and so Ryan crowds against him, licking into his mouth in the way he’s sometimes allowed himself to think about but has never been brave enough to do. Spencer’s hand finds his hip and he opens his mouth to Ryan, lets his head tilt back a tiny bit, and Ryan’s hand moves of its own accord to cup the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his soft hair.
Ryan closes his eyes and loses himself in the taste of Spencer, the taste of his best friend, and he should probably be freaking out but the moment of ‘what have I got to lose?’ that made him lean in is still coursing through him. Then he feels a hand on his arm, warm in comparison with Spencer’s cool touch, and pulls back, breaks the kiss, to find Brendon standing close to his side, frowning a little, looking young and needy and alone, and so Ryan reaches out and tugs him forward, presses his lips to Brendon’s.
Brendon’s hands are eager as they fist in Ryan’s shirt, and he kisses sloppily and happily, humming in content in the back of his throat as Ryan laughs against his lips before leaning back gently. Brendon chases his lips for a moment, then blushes as Ryan smiles at him, and glances over his shoulder.
Brent always looks slightly awkward around them, as if he’s not sure he fits, not sure if he’s saying or doing the wrong thing. But that constant awkwardness is eclipsed by what he’s obviously feeling now. Ryan watches his eyes dart towards the door, and Ryan thinks maybe he should let Brent leave, if that’s what he wants, before shaking his head a little and striding across the room. Before Brent can react, Ryan takes his face in his hands and kisses him. It’s gentle and short and sweet, but when he moves back, Brent looks kind of in awe and it’s the way his eyes are wide when he whispers “Oh, me too?” that makes Ryan laugh and his heart ache when he realises how much he’s going to miss these boys.
He turns around to tell them this, but Brendon has his face in Spencer’s neck, one hand snaking up under his shirt, and Spencer’s hand is in Brendon’s back pocket. Ryan catches his eye and Spencer sort of shrugs and dips his head to catch Brendon’s mouth with his own.
Brent is biting his lip as he watches them, a strange sort of hunger in his eyes that makes Ryan move the suitcases off his bed and push Brent down onto his back. Ryan straddles Brent’s hips, pulling him up to kiss again, slow and lazy and intimate this time. Behind him he hears a slight thump, as if Brendon has pushed Spencer back against the wall, but Brent’s hands are on his back, underneath his shirt, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of his jeans.
“Fuck,” Ryan says, and yanks at Brent’s shirt until he raises his arms and lets Ryan slide it off, throwing it to the floor. His own follows swiftly after, and then his fingers are fumbling with Brent’s pants, trying to get them open and down and since he can’t seem to undo the fastening he’s glad, for maybe the first time, that Brent wears his pants baggy enough that they’ll slide off with enough tugging.
“Holy shit!” Brent exclaims as Ryan gets his boxers off too and presses his nose into the crease where thigh meets body. Brent’s dick twitches, brushing against Ryan’s cheek, and he’s just licking his lips when Brendon is crowding against his shoulder saying “Hey, hi, can I…wow, um, please?” and taking Brent into his mouth before Ryan can even say a word.
He sits back, moving to the side as Brendon swallows Brent down. Brent is propped on his elbows, staring at the top of Brendon’s head like he can’t believe it, and to be honest, Ryan kind of can’t either and at the same time he’s not sure why they never did anything like this until now when he has to leave and can’t do this for at least a week.
Brendon’s lips look amazing wrapped around Brent’s dick, his hand pressing into the flesh of Brent’s thigh as he bobs his head. His eyes are closed, eyelashes dark against his cheek, then they fly open as he looks up at Brent, who bucks his hips, forcing himself deeper into Brendon’s mouth.
“God, that’s hot,” Spencer says right in Ryan’s ear, making him jump. Ryan hasn’t even left yet, and he’s already forgetting what a stealthy bastard Spencer can be when he wants to. “You… you did that, Ryan,” he adds, lips pressed right under Ryan’s ear. His hand slides down Ryan’s side, slipping to the front and coming to a rest just above the zipper on his jeans. “See why we don’t want you to go?”
Ryan laughs, but it ends in a strangled sort of yelp as Spencer’s hand hesitates for a split second before undoing Ryan’s jeans and reaching inside, wrapping those long fingers around Ryan’s already hard dick.
“Spence,” Ryan breathes, “we shouldn’t-“ but it’s not because it feels wrong, like he’d maybe expected. It feels weirdly right, and maybe a lot like some of the fantasies he’d allowed his mind to meander towards once or twice or a dozen times in the past.
“Shh,” Spencer hushes him. “Watch,” he says, and Ryan does, watches the way Brendon is holding Brent’s hips in place as he licks a wet strip up the length of his dick. Spencer’s hand mimics Brendon’s tongue, dragging slowly down and then back up, and then across the head of Ryan’s dick as Brendon sucks Brent back into his mouth. Ryan can feel calluses on Spencer’s hand as he twists his fingers back around him and starts to jack him off in time to Brendon’s movements. Ryan reaches a hand back, gripping Spencer’s hair as the pace increases, but he can’t turn his gaze away, alternating looking between Brendon’s swollen lips and up at Brent watching Brendon. He’s lucky enough to be watching the way Brent’s eyelids flutter when Brent’s mouth drops open and his eyes go wide as he comes, tugging at Brendon’s hair a little to give him warning. Brendon doesn’t budge, just stills his head for a moment or two before pulling away. He wipes his mouth and gives Brent such a big, hopeful smile that Ryan jerks his hips up and comes, spilling between Spencer’s fingers.
“Jesus,” Ryan mutters as Spencer gently tucks him back into his jeans and zips him up. There’s a moment of pause, as Brent tugs his boxers back on before leaning in to slide his tongue into Brendon’s mouth. Ryan wonders if he’s tasting himself on Brendon’s tongue, wonders what that would be like. He glances over at Spencer, wondering if he’s thinking the same thing, but Spencer is perched uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. There’s a hard look on his face, tension around the eyes and a bulge in his jeans.
“Hey,” Ryan says. “Hey. Thanks. I mean. Hey, let me-“
“Spencer.”
They both look up at Brent, who is kneeling on the bed, looking at Spencer with his brow furrowed. “Spencer,” he repeats. “Please. Can I…will you let me-“
Spencer leans forward and brushes his lips against Ryan’s, before sliding his hand into Brent’s and letting him tug him up, onto the pillows, spread eagled and smiling.
Ryan slides down off the bed onto the floor, listening to the sounds of Spencer kicking off his pants. It’s not that he doesn’t want to watch, doesn’t want to join in, because he does, so much, but there’s something tugging deep inside him, reminding him that the longer this goes on, the more he’s going to want to stay, to not go off to college. And that’s not the plan, not at all.
“Hi.”
Ryan suddenly has a lapful of Brendon, who curls around him like some sort of giant, smiley cat.
“Hey,” Ryan says softly.
“You kissed me,” Brendon reminds him, as if Ryan could forget and then he presses his nose against Ryan’s for a moment, before kissing him again.
“You always have the best ideas,” Brendon says after a moment or two. “That’s why you can never leave us.”
Ryan smiles against Brendon’s lips. “I’m not leaving. Not…not really. I’m just…it’s not forever. I’ll be back at the weekend.”
“No, you won’t,” Brendon is tugging off his shirt, undoing his belt, kneeling enough to shimmy out of his jeans until Ryan’s lap is full of naked Brendon. “You’ll be having too much fun to come home.”
“And miss a repeat of this?” Ryan, the movement of his stomach as he laughs jostling Brendon’s fingers, as they undo his jeans and gently work the denim down. He slaps Ryan’s thigh lightly until he lifts his hips and lets Brendon slide the rest of his clothing off.
“We wouldn’t do this without you,” Brendon assures him, even though Ryan didn’t know he needed to be assured until that moment.
“Promise?” Ryan asks, half joking, but Brendon is serious when he nods.
“If you promise to come home this weekend,” he says, and pushes Ryan onto his back. Ryan’s half hard again already, and Brendon strokes him gently for a moment or two before lining himself up until they’re pretty much nose to nose, belly button to belly button, dick to dick. Brendon rocks his hips experimentally, and Ryan gasps, exposing his throat.
Brendon takes advantage, licking up his throat and along his jaw. “Promise?” he repeats, and Ryan nods, hands sliding down to grasp Brendon’s hips as well as he can, rising to meet each of Brendon’s tentative movements, revelling in the delicious friction between them.
Above them, Spencer cries out, and Brendon stutters his pace for a moment before looking down at Ryan with wide eyes.
“That is so. Fucking. Hot,” he says, and forces their bodies even closer together.
Ryan’s hand is pressed into the small of Brendon’s back, lifting his head to try and press his lips to Brendon’s, but Brendon denies him each time. Ryan is determined to not come before Brendon does, but he hasn’t factored in the way that Brendon can roll his hips like that. He arches up as he comes, and Brendon kisses him then, long and hard and forceful as he continues to thrust against Ryan’s body, before jerking a little and stilling. There’s a warmth spreading between them that makes Ryan smile against the side of Brendon’s neck.
When Brendon’s warm weight is less like a comforting blanket and more like slightly suffocating, Ryan glances up to see Spencer and Brent peering down at them from the bed.
“Are you still going to college?” Brent asks. Ryan laughs and Brendon rolls off him with a sigh, moulding himself along Ryan’s side.
“You guys are good, but not that good,” Ryan attempts at being light hearted but fails. He frowns. “I’m sorry. I…this is something I need to do. Need to try.”
Spencer nods. “It’s okay,” he says. “We understand.”
Brent doesn’t look convinced, until Brendon looks up, a little sleepy, with a silly grin on his face and says “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay. Ryan promised he’d come home this weekend.”
Ryan sees Brent’s shoulders relax, and he leans into Spencer a little more. “Okay,” he says, and Spencer flashes them all his rare smile and Ryan sighs.
“You’d all better help me pack now,” he says. “For real, this time.”
And they do. They even help him load his car, and in the morning, when he’s about to drive away, Brendon makes him promise he’ll come home, again.
And Ryan does. He comes home every weekend after too, every weekend until Pete Wentz shows up and gives them their big break and he has to quit school to go on tour and Brendon and Spencer and Brent look at him expectantly.
“See?” Ryan says, shoving his unwanted, unneeded text books into the back of his closet. “I told you we’d make it. I never had a moments doubt.”
Fandom/Pairing: Bandom. Panic! GSF (Ryan/Spencer/Brendon/Brent)
Rating: R? I guess? It’s not too graphic
Disclaimer: Sooooo did not happen. Really. All fictional.
Warnings: Um. Brent? Wee bit of angst.
Summary: The boys help Ryan pack for college, have a bit of an angst session, and solve their problems with porn. You know, the traditional way of working things out.
A/N: This was supposed to be a wee drabblet for glamorous_nymph. It somehow turned into this, which, I have to add, only happened because I texted her and said I wanted to make it GSF, but Brent was in it. And after much deliberation her reply was I hate you! Write it. I hate you! and so I have and she’d better not bloody hate me. Hon, this is probably going to be your Xmas fic, since I may not get the other things I was planning to write for you done. Hope that’s okay. Please forgive the Brent. Also, you guys should all know that I wanted to call this fic ‘Packing Heat’. But I have not. Because mostly my lameness only amuses me, and this is for Bec. Someone should give it an awesome title though. Okay? ILU BB. Completely unbetaed cos I wanted her to read it too much to wait.
The day before Ryan leaves for college, Spencer and Brendon and Brent come round to help him pack.
Although ‘help’ is maybe not quite the right word.
“Spencer,” Ryan says, snatching a t-shirt off his friend. “I appreciate this, really, but could you maybe, I don’t know, fold things? I don’t want to have to go in on my first day all crumpled and creased.”
Spencer very carefully snatches the shirt back and folds it slowly and precisely, lining up the corners perfectly, before handing the shirt to Brendon and going to sit on the edge of Ryan’s bed. He crosses one leg over the other, folds his hands neatly on top and gives Ryan a pissy look.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Ryan says. “It’s just…Brendon! I already packed those things! Why are you putting them back in the drawer?”
Brendon pauses, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Um,” he says.
”Seriously, you guys,” Ryan stomps over and pushes Brendon out of the way, picking up the pile of clothes Brendon had just placed there, and dumping them into his suitcase. “I don’t need this. I don’t understand why you’re being so-“
“Don’t go,” Brent says, and Ryan looks at him in surprise. When they’d arrived, Brent had gone and sat in Ryan’s desk chair and not said a word, just watched the others or idly browsed through the books in the cardboard box on the desk. Ryan had thought, of all of them, Brent would be the least bothered to see him leave but he’d obviously been wrong.
He looks over at Spencer, who is busy checking out his cuticles very intently, then over at Brendon who is frowning at the ground and scuffing the floor with the toe of his sneaker.
“I’m not going that far,” Ryan reminds them. “I’ll be, like, an hour away. Two at the most. I’ll be back all the time. And you guys can come and visit me.”
Brendon snorts. “You know my mom won’t let me. And you’ll be caught up with your new friends. Maybe you’ll even get a new band…”
Ryan sighs. “Spencer,” he says, and his friend looks up at him, bangs falling in his eyes. “You don’t think that too, do you?”
Spencer shrugs, which for him is as good as a yes, and Brent nods in agreement.
“I’m not going to, like, forget about you guys or anything. That’s crazy talk. I’m just…god, I need to get out of this place. You can understand that, right?”
Brendon moves to sit on the bed and hooks his chin over Spencer’s shoulder. “I thought we were all going to get out of here together,” he says. “I thought we were going to make it big and never look back?”
Ryan closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “We are!” he says, moving to the window and staring out into the street below. It’s a good neighbourhood- there are a couple of kids playing on their bikes, a guy washing his car, someone else walking their dog. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t miss this place, it was just…he needed to get out. “We will make it big,” he says, turning back to his friends. “I just…this is a back up plan. In case…in case we don’t.”
Brendon jerks, banging his head against Spencer’s with an audible clunk. Spencer swears and exchanges a look with Brent, who slides out of the chair and moves to stand beside the bed, hands shoved deep into his pockets, biting his lip as he looks at Ryan. There is disappointment in his eyes that is echoed in Spencer’s, but it’s not as bad as the hurt clearly written across Brendon’s face. Justified too, Ryan thinks, since it had always been the others who would speak like this, talk of their plans for the future should the band fail to go where Ryan always insisted it would. Ryan suspects that they’d never really believed in Ryan’s grand plans, but the fact that Ryan appeared to care, that he was adamant there was no other possible future for them, had been some source of comfort, some hope for them.
“In case we don’t,” Spencer echoes, and Brendon presses himself back against Spencer’s back, clutching at his arm. “Fuck, Ryan.”
“I’m sorry,” Ryan says. “I…I do believe we will. I swear I do. But…I don’t want to end up thirty, working in a shitty dead end job and living for the weekend and band practices while everyone else around us grows up and gets on with life.”
Brent shakes his head and turns away, staring intently at the Morrissey poster above Ryan’s bed.
Spencer stands up suddenly, giving one decisive little nod. Then he walks over to Ryan’s closet and throws open the doors, pulling clothes from hangers and shoving them haphazardly into Ryan’s open suitcase.
“Guys,” Spencer says, and then Brendon is moving too, grabbing armfuls of Ryan’s shoes while Brent picks up a box and shoves the contents of a bookshelf into it.
“Wait,” Ryan says. “Stop. Guys, come on. Don’t be pissed off-“
Spencer slams the full suitcase shut and reaches for an empty one. “We’re not,” he says, voice tight in that way Ryan knows means he’s resisting the urge to punch something. Or someone. “We’re helping. We said we’d help- you wanted us to help, remember?- and so we are. Think about it. The quicker you pack, the quicker you can go and enjoy your backup plan.”
“This isn’t fair,” Ryan says, folding his arms across his chest as he watched his friends, his band mates, demolish the room he’d lived out the last 18 years in. “I don’t see why it always has to be me, Spence. Why do I always have to be the one who keeps the dream going, who tells you it’s going to be alright? Don’t I deserve a little insecurity, a little self doubt? Don’t I get a chance to dream of a future other than the one we all talk about, work towards? Don’t I get a chance of a happily ever after, even if the story doesn’t go the way we want it to?”
Brendon pauses as he’s about to throw a shoe into the suitcase, catching it on the very tip of his fingers, and lets it fall to the floor. Brent looks to Spencer, who has stopped mid stride, and then moves to Ryan, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Ryan,” Spencer says, opens his mouth to say more maybe, but then Ryan leans forward without thinking and kisses him.
Spencer makes a surprised noise and pulls back, meeting Ryan’s gaze with confused eyes. “I don’t-“
“Sorry,” Ryan says, and kisses him again. This time the noise Spencer makes is less surprise and more assent, and so Ryan crowds against him, licking into his mouth in the way he’s sometimes allowed himself to think about but has never been brave enough to do. Spencer’s hand finds his hip and he opens his mouth to Ryan, lets his head tilt back a tiny bit, and Ryan’s hand moves of its own accord to cup the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his soft hair.
Ryan closes his eyes and loses himself in the taste of Spencer, the taste of his best friend, and he should probably be freaking out but the moment of ‘what have I got to lose?’ that made him lean in is still coursing through him. Then he feels a hand on his arm, warm in comparison with Spencer’s cool touch, and pulls back, breaks the kiss, to find Brendon standing close to his side, frowning a little, looking young and needy and alone, and so Ryan reaches out and tugs him forward, presses his lips to Brendon’s.
Brendon’s hands are eager as they fist in Ryan’s shirt, and he kisses sloppily and happily, humming in content in the back of his throat as Ryan laughs against his lips before leaning back gently. Brendon chases his lips for a moment, then blushes as Ryan smiles at him, and glances over his shoulder.
Brent always looks slightly awkward around them, as if he’s not sure he fits, not sure if he’s saying or doing the wrong thing. But that constant awkwardness is eclipsed by what he’s obviously feeling now. Ryan watches his eyes dart towards the door, and Ryan thinks maybe he should let Brent leave, if that’s what he wants, before shaking his head a little and striding across the room. Before Brent can react, Ryan takes his face in his hands and kisses him. It’s gentle and short and sweet, but when he moves back, Brent looks kind of in awe and it’s the way his eyes are wide when he whispers “Oh, me too?” that makes Ryan laugh and his heart ache when he realises how much he’s going to miss these boys.
He turns around to tell them this, but Brendon has his face in Spencer’s neck, one hand snaking up under his shirt, and Spencer’s hand is in Brendon’s back pocket. Ryan catches his eye and Spencer sort of shrugs and dips his head to catch Brendon’s mouth with his own.
Brent is biting his lip as he watches them, a strange sort of hunger in his eyes that makes Ryan move the suitcases off his bed and push Brent down onto his back. Ryan straddles Brent’s hips, pulling him up to kiss again, slow and lazy and intimate this time. Behind him he hears a slight thump, as if Brendon has pushed Spencer back against the wall, but Brent’s hands are on his back, underneath his shirt, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of his jeans.
“Fuck,” Ryan says, and yanks at Brent’s shirt until he raises his arms and lets Ryan slide it off, throwing it to the floor. His own follows swiftly after, and then his fingers are fumbling with Brent’s pants, trying to get them open and down and since he can’t seem to undo the fastening he’s glad, for maybe the first time, that Brent wears his pants baggy enough that they’ll slide off with enough tugging.
“Holy shit!” Brent exclaims as Ryan gets his boxers off too and presses his nose into the crease where thigh meets body. Brent’s dick twitches, brushing against Ryan’s cheek, and he’s just licking his lips when Brendon is crowding against his shoulder saying “Hey, hi, can I…wow, um, please?” and taking Brent into his mouth before Ryan can even say a word.
He sits back, moving to the side as Brendon swallows Brent down. Brent is propped on his elbows, staring at the top of Brendon’s head like he can’t believe it, and to be honest, Ryan kind of can’t either and at the same time he’s not sure why they never did anything like this until now when he has to leave and can’t do this for at least a week.
Brendon’s lips look amazing wrapped around Brent’s dick, his hand pressing into the flesh of Brent’s thigh as he bobs his head. His eyes are closed, eyelashes dark against his cheek, then they fly open as he looks up at Brent, who bucks his hips, forcing himself deeper into Brendon’s mouth.
“God, that’s hot,” Spencer says right in Ryan’s ear, making him jump. Ryan hasn’t even left yet, and he’s already forgetting what a stealthy bastard Spencer can be when he wants to. “You… you did that, Ryan,” he adds, lips pressed right under Ryan’s ear. His hand slides down Ryan’s side, slipping to the front and coming to a rest just above the zipper on his jeans. “See why we don’t want you to go?”
Ryan laughs, but it ends in a strangled sort of yelp as Spencer’s hand hesitates for a split second before undoing Ryan’s jeans and reaching inside, wrapping those long fingers around Ryan’s already hard dick.
“Spence,” Ryan breathes, “we shouldn’t-“ but it’s not because it feels wrong, like he’d maybe expected. It feels weirdly right, and maybe a lot like some of the fantasies he’d allowed his mind to meander towards once or twice or a dozen times in the past.
“Shh,” Spencer hushes him. “Watch,” he says, and Ryan does, watches the way Brendon is holding Brent’s hips in place as he licks a wet strip up the length of his dick. Spencer’s hand mimics Brendon’s tongue, dragging slowly down and then back up, and then across the head of Ryan’s dick as Brendon sucks Brent back into his mouth. Ryan can feel calluses on Spencer’s hand as he twists his fingers back around him and starts to jack him off in time to Brendon’s movements. Ryan reaches a hand back, gripping Spencer’s hair as the pace increases, but he can’t turn his gaze away, alternating looking between Brendon’s swollen lips and up at Brent watching Brendon. He’s lucky enough to be watching the way Brent’s eyelids flutter when Brent’s mouth drops open and his eyes go wide as he comes, tugging at Brendon’s hair a little to give him warning. Brendon doesn’t budge, just stills his head for a moment or two before pulling away. He wipes his mouth and gives Brent such a big, hopeful smile that Ryan jerks his hips up and comes, spilling between Spencer’s fingers.
“Jesus,” Ryan mutters as Spencer gently tucks him back into his jeans and zips him up. There’s a moment of pause, as Brent tugs his boxers back on before leaning in to slide his tongue into Brendon’s mouth. Ryan wonders if he’s tasting himself on Brendon’s tongue, wonders what that would be like. He glances over at Spencer, wondering if he’s thinking the same thing, but Spencer is perched uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. There’s a hard look on his face, tension around the eyes and a bulge in his jeans.
“Hey,” Ryan says. “Hey. Thanks. I mean. Hey, let me-“
“Spencer.”
They both look up at Brent, who is kneeling on the bed, looking at Spencer with his brow furrowed. “Spencer,” he repeats. “Please. Can I…will you let me-“
Spencer leans forward and brushes his lips against Ryan’s, before sliding his hand into Brent’s and letting him tug him up, onto the pillows, spread eagled and smiling.
Ryan slides down off the bed onto the floor, listening to the sounds of Spencer kicking off his pants. It’s not that he doesn’t want to watch, doesn’t want to join in, because he does, so much, but there’s something tugging deep inside him, reminding him that the longer this goes on, the more he’s going to want to stay, to not go off to college. And that’s not the plan, not at all.
“Hi.”
Ryan suddenly has a lapful of Brendon, who curls around him like some sort of giant, smiley cat.
“Hey,” Ryan says softly.
“You kissed me,” Brendon reminds him, as if Ryan could forget and then he presses his nose against Ryan’s for a moment, before kissing him again.
“You always have the best ideas,” Brendon says after a moment or two. “That’s why you can never leave us.”
Ryan smiles against Brendon’s lips. “I’m not leaving. Not…not really. I’m just…it’s not forever. I’ll be back at the weekend.”
“No, you won’t,” Brendon is tugging off his shirt, undoing his belt, kneeling enough to shimmy out of his jeans until Ryan’s lap is full of naked Brendon. “You’ll be having too much fun to come home.”
“And miss a repeat of this?” Ryan, the movement of his stomach as he laughs jostling Brendon’s fingers, as they undo his jeans and gently work the denim down. He slaps Ryan’s thigh lightly until he lifts his hips and lets Brendon slide the rest of his clothing off.
“We wouldn’t do this without you,” Brendon assures him, even though Ryan didn’t know he needed to be assured until that moment.
“Promise?” Ryan asks, half joking, but Brendon is serious when he nods.
“If you promise to come home this weekend,” he says, and pushes Ryan onto his back. Ryan’s half hard again already, and Brendon strokes him gently for a moment or two before lining himself up until they’re pretty much nose to nose, belly button to belly button, dick to dick. Brendon rocks his hips experimentally, and Ryan gasps, exposing his throat.
Brendon takes advantage, licking up his throat and along his jaw. “Promise?” he repeats, and Ryan nods, hands sliding down to grasp Brendon’s hips as well as he can, rising to meet each of Brendon’s tentative movements, revelling in the delicious friction between them.
Above them, Spencer cries out, and Brendon stutters his pace for a moment before looking down at Ryan with wide eyes.
“That is so. Fucking. Hot,” he says, and forces their bodies even closer together.
Ryan’s hand is pressed into the small of Brendon’s back, lifting his head to try and press his lips to Brendon’s, but Brendon denies him each time. Ryan is determined to not come before Brendon does, but he hasn’t factored in the way that Brendon can roll his hips like that. He arches up as he comes, and Brendon kisses him then, long and hard and forceful as he continues to thrust against Ryan’s body, before jerking a little and stilling. There’s a warmth spreading between them that makes Ryan smile against the side of Brendon’s neck.
When Brendon’s warm weight is less like a comforting blanket and more like slightly suffocating, Ryan glances up to see Spencer and Brent peering down at them from the bed.
“Are you still going to college?” Brent asks. Ryan laughs and Brendon rolls off him with a sigh, moulding himself along Ryan’s side.
“You guys are good, but not that good,” Ryan attempts at being light hearted but fails. He frowns. “I’m sorry. I…this is something I need to do. Need to try.”
Spencer nods. “It’s okay,” he says. “We understand.”
Brent doesn’t look convinced, until Brendon looks up, a little sleepy, with a silly grin on his face and says “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay. Ryan promised he’d come home this weekend.”
Ryan sees Brent’s shoulders relax, and he leans into Spencer a little more. “Okay,” he says, and Spencer flashes them all his rare smile and Ryan sighs.
“You’d all better help me pack now,” he says. “For real, this time.”
And they do. They even help him load his car, and in the morning, when he’s about to drive away, Brendon makes him promise he’ll come home, again.
And Ryan does. He comes home every weekend after too, every weekend until Pete Wentz shows up and gives them their big break and he has to quit school to go on tour and Brendon and Spencer and Brent look at him expectantly.
“See?” Ryan says, shoving his unwanted, unneeded text books into the back of his closet. “I told you we’d make it. I never had a moments doubt.”