Everything We Had. [Standalone; Sequel to Down on the Farm.]
Title: Everything We Had. [Standalone.]
Author: causticmayhemx
Pairing: Ryan Ross//Brendon Urie.
Rating: NC17.
Word Count: 6163.
Summary: The sequel to Down on the Farm. Five years after Ryan spent the summer with Brendon's family and he's still on Brendon's mind. Brendon finishes college and moves to New York for his new job, which holds more surprises than he initially thought.
Disclaimer: 100% faux.
Dedication: This is dedicated to everyone who read the last one and this one. You're the best.
A/N: There was no way I was gonna leave you all hanging. =] I hope you all like this. And yes, I talk about WWE a lot in here. Because you know what? I love it. Deal or don't read. Background information for before you read.
Everything We Had.
"Brendon! Make some coffee, enough for ten people, and bring cups, creamer, and sugar into conference room three. Hurry up!"
Brendon sighed, setting a couple of folders down in his cubicle before walking over to small kitchen. He got the coffee ready and stared at the conference room. The walls were windows, a dark brown door in the middle. His colleagues were shuffling around the room, setting out portfolios in front of each of the seats in the room, scrambling about to make sure the projector was working and that they had everything they needed.
He waited for the coffee to finish and he set the mugs on the tray, along with everything else he needed, and he carefully picked up the tray, carrying it back to the room. He nudged the door open with his foot and set the tray on the desk towards the side, arranging everything neatly. He looked up at the screen and saw the World Wrestling Entertainment logo.
"Dude, is Vince McMahon gonna be in here? Because I wanna kick his ass for being a douche bag and faking his own death," Brendon said.
Matt looked over at him. "You watch that shit?" he asked.
"No?"
Matt smiled. "You're crazy, farm boy."
Brendon rolled his eyes. "You're gonna call me that forever, aren't you?"
"Probably," Matt said, flipping through a portfolio before laying it down. "So when do you think us interns will actually get to sit in on a meeting and not, oh, I don't know, get coffee all day long?"
Brendon laughed. "It's been six months, Matt. I doubt it'll ever happen."
"We can hope."
"Well, then I'm hoping it's today. I love wrestling. Not even gonna lie," Brendon told him.
"Are you a RAW fan? ECW?"
"Smackdown all the way," he said, nodding. "I mean, Smackdown has The Undertaker."
Matt smiled. "I'm an HBK fan myself."
"The Showstopper," Brendon said, sighing wistfully. "I loved his Playgirl shoot..."
Matt laughed. "You looked at that?!"
"Who didn't?! And don't say you didn't, Matt. You're gay underneath the muscle, okay? I see right through you," Brendon said.
He ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, apparently you can."
Brendon smiled. "Man. I can't wait until the day we actually get to put our knowledge to the test, you know? I just want to actually do something. Getting coffee and copying papers isn't exactly what I signed on for."
"I know, right? I mean, shit. We have our degree so they have to know that we know what we're doing," Matt shook his head. "They just want to be top dog. They don't want any of us young guys to bowl them over with our extensive knowledge."
He laughed. "I agree."
"Brendon, Matt." Both of them looked up, meeting the eyes of Gary, their boss. He smoothed down the lapels of his dark gray business suit and nodded towards them. "Get your stuff. You're sitting in on this one."
Brendon's eyes lit up. "Are you serious?"
"Yes," Gary said, looking at his watch. "Now hurry up. And don't make an ass out of yourselves. That reflects badly on me."
"Yes, sir," Matt said, smiling, grabbing Brendon's arm and dragging him out of there. "Behave yourself."
Brendon smiled. "I will. I promise. You're such a good friend, Matt," he said, making his way to his cubicle and gathering together his folders and a notepad.
Matt rolled his eyes. "You're buying the beer tonight, then."
"Okay, sure," Brendon said. "I'll give you that one. You buy it every other time."
"Because you're poor and spend all of your money on John Deere catalogs."
Brendon laughed. "I do not! I don't even like John Deere."
"Sure you don't, farm boy. C'mon. Let's get back to the conference room before Gary kills us with his Rolex."
"Or his cuff links?"
"Those, too," Matt said.
The two of them walked back towards the room and stood by the table that held the coffee. Gary looked them up and down.
"Could the two of you look more haggard? You knew today was a big day. You couldn't even look nice?" he rolled his eyes.
Brendon looked down at his black pants, white shirt, and sweater vest. "Do I look haggard?" he asked, nervously adjusting his glasses.
Matt shook his head. "You look fine," he said quietly, motioning for him to be quiet.
Brendon held his folders to his chest, standing up straight, as the public relations and management team from World Wrestling Entertainment walked into the room. Gary shook hands with all of them, smiling. They all gathered around the table and Gary threw Brendon and Matt a look and they automatically sat down in the two chairs near the back of the room.
"I can't believe we get to sit in on a meeting," Brendon whispered, excited, as he opened his notebook. "What if Randy Orton walked in right now?"
Matt kicked his foot. "Shut up," he whispered through gritted teeth.
Brendon pouted briefly before getting over it and concentrating on the meeting.
+
The meeting was over within an hour and a half and Brendon and Matt waited in the back of the room while everyone else filed out. Gary shut the door behind them and looked over towards his interns. He sighed and shook his head, muttering under his breath as if he were arguing with himself about something.
"Brendon, Matt, come sit at the table," he said.
Brendon nodded and both of them walked towards the table and sat down. Brendon crossed his ankles and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "What's up?"
Gary sighed, sitting down across from them and folding his hands in front of him. "I'm going to give the two of you your first assignment. Now, normally, I wouldn't give my interns such a large assignment, however, you two have proven yourselves time and time again with the smaller accounts I've let you handle. The two of you will be working together and everything you do will have to be sent through me first for my approval," he told them.
Matt nodded. "What will we be working on?"
"The people who were just in here work for World Wrestling Entertainment. They have an event coming up in August, it's about a month away, on the seventeenth."
"Summer Slam," Brendon said.
Gary's eyebrows rose. "Yes, exactly."
"It's their biggest event over the summer. The press is going to be huge. Why are you entrusting us with this?" Brendon asked. "I mean, I'm flattered, obviously. I'm a huge fan. But. It's...huge."
Gary nodded. "I know it is. I wouldn't trust the two of you with it alone. Which is why you'll both work on it together. I trust that I've sufficiently supplied you with the knowledge that you need to handle this account. And if I feel that you can't, I'll pull you from it."
"Thank you for this opportunity," Matt said in earnest. "We'll do the best that we can. I hope you know that."
"I do, yes. Now, Brendon, you'll be working very closely with the press. News papers, magazines, journalists, all of that. Matt, you'll be working with advertisements; getting them on the air at the best times. You'll also work with the people who run the website, since you're a lot more computer savvy than Brendon," Gary said. He sighed again and looked at his hands before looking back up at his interns. "Don't let me down."
"We won't," Brendon said. "Promise."
+
"Want to go out for a celebratory drink?" Matt asked as the work day drew to an end.
Brendon shut down his computer and rearranged all of his files. He shrugged and placed the folder with all of Summer Slam's information into his messenger bag. "I guess, yeah."
Matt looked at him closely. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Brendon said, smiling. "Just nervous. It's our first big account and, I mean. It's nerve-wracking." He paused. "If you get to meet any of the wrestlers and I don't, I will beat you up."
Matt laughed. "I don't really want to meet them, don't worry."
Brendon picked up his jacket, sliding it on, before picking up his bag. "I want to. I want to meet The Undertaker."
"Isn't he the creepy one with the hat and the evil music?" Matt asked.
"Not creepy, not evil. He's amazing," Brendon corrected. "But yes, that's him."
Matt laughed, throwing an arm around Brendon's shoulder. "Let's go celebrate our extreme brilliance, yes?"
"Definitely."
+
"Ryan, stop."
"What?"
"Don't go. Please. I mean. You can't go, right? This is crazy. We're not done here. We-- We can't be."
Brendon gasped and sat up straight in his bed, heart beating wildly, forehead shining with sweat. He grabbed his glasses and glanced at his clock; it was three in the morning. He shook his head and slowly got out of bed. He wandered into his bathroom and flicked on the light, eyes squinting at the sudden brightness, and he turned on the sink, splashing his face with cold water. He studied his reflection for a minute.
"Stop thinking about him, you fool," he muttered, reaching for a towel and patting his face dry. He flipped off the light and wandered out into the small kitchen of his apartment. He grabbed a glass and got some water from the tap, drinking the entire cup, and he headed back to his room. He crawled under the covers and hugged the pillow to his chest. He removed his glasses and set them on the nightstand. And although he couldn't' read the time on the clock, he knew he didn't fall back asleep until sunrise.
+
"What the hell happened to you?"
Brendon looked up from his cup of coffee. "Tactless."
"You look haggard as hell, Brendon," Matt said. "And I say that in the nicest way possible. What happened?"
He shook his head. "Didn't sleep well," he told him. "That's all."
"You've looked bad all week, man, since we got that assignment. Gary might think it's too much and pull you. Or pull us," Matt said. "Don't let you not sleeping ruin this for us, man."
"I won't," Brendon said, rolling his eyes. "It has nothing to do with the assignment, okay? Just... Just dreams, okay?"
"Nightmares?"
He shook his head. "No, not exactly. Just. I keep having dreams of, like, the worst day of my life," he said, shrugging.
"But it's...not a nightmare?" Matt asked. "How does that work out?"
Brendon took a sip of his coffee. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay. Fair enough, I guess," he said, shrugging. "So Becka, the chick who runs all the audio and visual stuff on their website sent me a video, a little mock up of something she wants to do. Wanna look at it with me?"
"Sure."
+
"Do you want to talk about the dreams?" Matt asked him over lunch. He had decided to take his friend out for a bite to eat since his day had seemed so bad.
Brendon shrugged, taking a bite of his salad. "There's nothing to really talk about, you know?"
Matt paused. "No, not really."
"Oh, what do you know about it?" he muttered under his breath.
"Nothing," he said. "But I have a feeling that it must be bad. I've never seen you look like this, Brendon. And we went to college together, so I know when you're stressed out."
"This isn't stress-related, Matt," he said softly. "Okay?"
"Talk to me. I'm your best friend. I can help. Or, at least, try to help."
"You can't help this, Matt. I just have to stop thinking about it. That's all."
Matt sighed, shrugging his shoulders and picking up his burger. "Whatever."
Brendon ate half of his salad before setting his fork down. "His name is Ryan."
Matt rose an eyebrow, setting his food down and wiping his hands on a napkin. "What happened?"
"My mom was friends with his. When I was eighteen, he spent the summer with us because he...burned down a house. And his mom thought that if he stayed on our farm, it would help him or something," he told him.
"Did it?"
"I think it did," Brendon said. "But, um. I kissed him one day. In the barn. And, just. I never wanted to stop, you know? And it...evolved. And then he had to go home. That day...was the worst," he said, shaking his head.
"Did you love him?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. I know that I could've. I haven't seen him since."
"Wow. How long has it been?"
"Five years," Brendon said. "To the day on Summer Slam." He shook his head. "Oh, the irony, right?"
Matt sighed. "Wow. I just don't know what to say. That's just horrible."
"Yeah. I miss him a lot, you know? I think about him...a lot. I don't want to but I can't stop it."
"But... You've dated since, though. I mean, you dated that guy for a while--Jake?"
"Jon," Brendon said. "He and I should have never dated. I grew up with him and, after Ryan left, we just... Yeah. But... I haven't wanted to be with anyone. Ryan's always felt like my number one, you know?"
Matt smiled. "Sounds a lot like love to me."
Brendon shrugged. "I'm never going to see him again, so. I don't know why I even care." He glanced at his watch. "C'mon. We're running late."
+
The two of them managed to get back to the office without being late. Matt went his own way to line up an interview and Brendon went back to his desk. He was working on an e-mail when his phone rang.
"This is Brendon," he said, agitated but trying not to let it show.
"You have a meeting with a freelance writer after work. He's been assigned to cover the event."
Brendon nodded as Gary spoke, jotting down the information on a post-it note. "Time, place, and name?"
"Tonight after work at six, at the Starbucks on Fifth. His name is Ryan Ross."
Gary hung up and the phone slipped from Brendon's hand, falling onto his desk with a loud clank. He sat there for a minute, hand poised over the post-it note.
"Hey, Bren, can I-- What's wrong?" Matt asked.
Brendon shook his head, scribbling the rest of the information on the post-it. "Nothing."
Matt rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Can I steal your White Out?"
"Yeah," he said, barely paying attention. He dug it out of his drawer and handed it to him. "Keep it."
"Thanks." He studied his friend. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Brendon nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I am," he said, forcing a smile. "I am, thanks."
Matt smiled. "Awesome."
"Yes. Yes, I am," Brendon said.
Matt laughed. "Yes, you are. Oh, by the way. That Becka girl that I've been on the phone with half of today? With the WWE website? She sounds cute."
Brendon rolled his eyes. "And you've been hitting on her all day?"
"Of course," he said.
"Shameless."
"You love it," Matt said, laughing slightly. "Okay. I gotta go. You better finish that e-mail."
Brendon smiled. "Okay."
When Matt was out of his sight, he rested his head on his desk. He didn't know if it was the same Ryan Ross. And he didn't know if he wanted it to be or not.
+
The day slowly drew to an end, much to Brendon's demise, and he found himself procrastinating further; he didn't want to leave work. He didn't want to go to Starbucks. He didn't want to know if it was Ryan; and he definitely did not want to know if it wasn't. He sat in the chair in his little cubicle, spinning around a little bit.
"Is there a reason you're not leaving?" Matt asked, standing by his desk.
Brendon slowed to a stop and nodded. "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because?"
Matt rolled his eyes. "Because why?"
"Urie. Get your ass out of here or you'll be late for your meeting with Ross," Gary said, walking past his desk. "You know how bad the traffic is."
Brendon sighed, slowly standing up and grabbing his back. "I want to quit."
"You can't exactly quit an internship, Brendon," Matt said.
"Go to my meeting with me?" Brendon asked. "Please. I don't want to go."
"Why not?"
Brendon sighed. "Nothing. Never mind. I gotta go," he said, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his glasses. "Wanna walk out together?"
"Sure."
+
Brendon stood outside the door to the Starbucks for ten minutes. He had gotten there right at six, thanks to New York traffic, and he waited outside the door. He glanced at his watch. Almost quarter after. He sucked in a deep breath and reached for the door handle, but someone on the other side beat him to it, and the door swung open. Brendon's mouth dropped open.
"Ryan?"
Ryan froze. "Brendon? Is it-- I don't-- What?"
Brendon felt himself smile and he instinctively wrapped his arms around Ryan's waist. Even after five years, he could still recognize him from a mile away. Ryan looked basically the same, his hair was still rather long and he still wore it straight. He was taller, taller than Brendon had been, and still as thin as ever. "I knew it had to be you," he whispered into his hair. "I knew it."
Ryan slowly pulled away, keeping his hands on Brendon's shoulders. "You're the public relations guy I was supposed to meet?"
He nodded.
"You were late. I was about to leave," Ryan said, looking down.
"I know. I wasn't sure if it was you or not. I was nervous," Brendon told him. "I'm sorry."
Ryan shook his head. "Don't apologize, I-- God, it's been five years. You look--" Amazing. Gorgeous. Beautiful. "Good," he said. "You look good."
Brendon smiled. "You, too."
Ryan moved his hands and took a step back, shoving his hands in his pockets. "So, um. So, how have you been?" he asked, wondering if he looked as awkward as he felt.
"Do you want to get some coffee?" Brendon asked. "I mean. We can-- We can talk and then. Do what we're actually supposed to do," he laughed slightly. "Um. Work and...stuff."
Ryan nodded. "Okay. Okay, sure."
Brendon smiled again. "Okay. Okay, cool. Um. Starbucks okay?"
Ryan laughed. "Yeah. That's fine."
"Okay." He awkwardly walked around Ryan and into the Starbucks. The two of them found a free table by the window and sat down across from one another. He took off his messenger bag and set it down on the floor, wrapping the strap over his knee. "So. Um. How-- How have you been?"
Ryan looked down at his hands. "I've been okay. Working. I'm a freelance writer. I mean, I work a lot for the New Yorker and various magazines. So how did you end up in public relations?"
"I don't know," Brendon said honestly. "After you left, I had to get away from the farm. Everywhere I looked, it reminded me of you. So I applied to a couple colleges, went to one here, in New York. Then I got this internship and that's really been it. This is my first big assignment. Well, Matt and I are working it together."
"Matt?"
"He's my friend," he told him. "We roomed together senior year of college and we both got this internship, so."
Ryan nodded. "So, um. No boyfriend?"
Brendon looked up and their eyes met. Even after all this time, he was still able to read what was lying behind those caramel orbs. He looked back down and shook his head. "No."
"Me neither," he said quietly.
"What did you do after you left?" Brendon asked, voice choking slightly at the end of the question.
"I went home. Cleaned up my act. Graduated in the top of my class. Went off to college and majored in English. And apparently that did nothing for me since half of those sentences were fragments," he laughed slightly. "But, um. Then I moved to New York."
Brendon nodded, unable to meet Ryan's eyes again. A couple of minutes passed in silence before Brendon finally found the courage to speak again. "So, uh. Do you feel as awkward as I do?"
Ryan laughed a little. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I do. This is weird, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"I missed you," Ryan said quietly. "I missed you so much."
"I never got you out of my head, Ryan. No matter what I did, or where I went, or who was around. It only felt like you," Brendon told him. He finally looked up. "And I know this is the wrong place to say it. And I know it probably feels awkward and like I should've moved on, but I couldn't. And. You look really, really good."
Ryan smiled. "Um. My apartment is, um. A couple of blocks away," he told him. "It's small, but. It's close," he said.
Brendon knew that look as well as he knew...anything about himself, really. "Really?"
"Yeah."
Whether it was Brendon's brain thinking or the obvious sexual tension, it didn't matter. Brendon knew what he had to say. "Let's go, then."
+
Ryan led Brendon to his apartment, trying to make idle chit chat on the way there. Brendon smiled softly to himself; Ryan always rambled to himself whenever he was nervous. He reached out and grabbed Ryan's hand, squeezing it slightly, and his stomach did a little flip; just how it used to. His heart was pounding and he was sure that Ryan could hear it, that is, if he would shut up. Ryan walked faster when they actually entered the building; he would've ran but he knew that would make him seem too eager.
"The building doesn't have elevators," Ryan said quietly, leading him up the stair well.
"What floor are you on?"
"The third."
They finally got to the third floor and Ryan pushed open the door, nearly dragging Brendon down the hallway until he got to his room. He fumbled through his pockets for the key, having to release Brendon's hand. Brendon wrapped his arms around Ryan's waist, kissing the back of his neck. Ryan whined slightly, digging through his pockets again until he finally found his key. He managed to unlock the door on the first try and Brendon lightly pushed him into his apartment, turning him around and pressing him against the door, shutting it in the meantime.
Their lips met, for the first time in five years and, to Brendon, it felt like coming home. One of Brendon's hands delved into his hair; it was just as soft as he remembered, and his other hand was on his lower back, holding them closer. Ryan's hands were on his hips, neck arching forward to keep the two of them as close as possible. Ryan moaned against his mouth; his lips opened automatically when he felt Brendon's tongue, and he finally felt alive again.
Ryan's hand slipped to Brendon's ass, fingers gripping it almost possessively as Brendon nearly ravaged his mouth. He could barely think and Brendon couldn't remember a time when he had felt so good. Brendon's hand slipped further down Ryan's back, pressing their hips together as he felt himself straining against his jeans. Ryan moaned, rubbing their erections together, and Brendon bit at his lower lip, before his lips moved down to the side of his neck. He pressed his mouth to Ryan's pulse and could feel the blood pumping through him.
He moved his hand from Ryan's back to his front, hastily unzipping his jeans and sliding his hand in, fingers grasping around him. Ryan gasped, head falling back against the door, as he moved his own hand to massage Brendon outside of his jeans. Ryan could feel himself get closer and, when he came, the force surprised even himself. Brendon followed soon after, nearly collapsing against him, as the two of them struggled to get their breathing to return to normal.
Brendon pulled back and kissed his forehead. "You're so beautiful."
Ryan laughed slightly. "Still cheesy as ever, huh?"
Brendon smiled. "You missed it."
"Yeah," he nodded, resting his head against Brendon's chest. "I did."
+
"We never did talk about what we were supposed to talk about," Brendon said, his head resting on Ryan's chest as they lay together on the couch.
Ryan smiled, running his fingers through Brendon's hair. "When did you get all serious about what you're supposed to do?"
"Probably...senior year of college," he decided.
Ryan laughed. "Really?"
"Yeah."
"So what we were going to talk about? Not that you need an ego boost but I totally forgot the minute I saw you," Ryan said.
Brendon smiled. "Still got it."
Ryan laughed. "Yes. Yes, you do."
"Well," he started, "I think we had to set up an interview or two for you since you're covering the whole Summer Slam event."
"I don't even know what Summer Slam is."
Brendon sat up, looking down at him. "Are you serious?"
Ryan nodded, eyes wide. "Yeah... Is that. Is that bad?"
"Not really. I mean, I guess not everyone can love wrestling like I do, but. It's one of the biggest WWE summer events," he told him.
"Ah. So. I...talk to wrestlers?" Ryan asked.
Brendon smiled, laying back down next to him. "How long have you been doing your job? You sound clueless."
Ryan punched him in the side. "Jerk."
"Well, I know it's a far cry from burning down buildings, but--"
"Jerk!" Ryan repeated, louder, hitting him again.
Brendon smiled, turning his head to the side to press a kiss beneath Ryan's jaw. "You missed it."
He shrugged. "Maybe."
Brendon turned on his side so he could scoot closer. "Well. You can interview them if you want. I would suggest doing a tribute to Ric Flair."
"A tribute? Why? Is he even still wrestling? I thought he was old," Ryan rambled.
"Well, he was wrestling. He was retired at Wrestlemania, by Shawn Michaels. So maybe a tribute article, talking with him about his career, would be a nice dedication," Brendon told him.
"Could we set that up?"
"I'm in PR. I know who to talk to," Brendon said.
Ryan rolled his eyes.
Brendon paused. "Okay, I might not, but I know people who do," he corrected himself.
"Yeah? Who else should I do a spiel on? The guy who retired him? I mean, I bet he's proud," Ryan muttered.
"Oh, no, no, he feels awful. Ric was his mentor."
"Then why did he do it?"
"Why don't you ask him that?"
Ryan smiled. "I will."
"When I go to work tomorrow, I'll call their publicists and arrange all of that. Then I'll give you a call and let you know," Brendon said.
"Or you could just come over and tell me."
"Ryan Ross, are you trying to get into my pants?" Brendon asked, smiling.
Ryan laughed. "I don't need to try for that."
Brendon shook his head. "That's true."
+
Leaving Ryan's apartment the next morning was one of the most difficult things he had to do since seeing Ryan again (which wasn't saying much since they were just reunited fourteen hours prior to the morning). He borrowed some of Ryan's clothes, ensuring that he would see him again and ensuring that he wouldn't be humiliated by going to work in the same clothes as the day before.
He got to the office ten minutes early, just like normal, and he made some coffee, carrying a mug to his desk. He sat down in his chair, setting his bag to the side, and he took a sip of his coffee. He knew he was smiling, and he knew he probably looked creepy to anyone who was walking by, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.
"Did you get laid?"
Brendon peered up at Matt, who was standing by his cubicle, and laughed. "I can't smile without you assuming I've gotten laid?"
"Not that creepy smile, no," Matt said, staring at him for a minute. "What's up with you? The last time I saw you, you were freaking out about your meeting."
He shrugged. "I'm not freaked out anymore."
Matt moved to sit down on his desk. "What happened?"
"The guy I had to meet with? It was Ryan."
"The Ryan? The Ryan you're in love with Ryan?"
"I'm not in love with him," Brendon said. "And yes."
"Fate."
Brendon laughed. "If you want to call it that, sure."
"So you did get laid then, huh?"
"No!" he shook his head. "No. No, we talked most of the night."
"Did you stay there? Because those pants look way too long," he said.
Brendon looked down before nodding. "Yeah. I borrowed some of his clothes."
"You look happy."
"I am. God, it was so good to see him again. And it was so weird, you know? Because we were just talking about him and then bam, we're reunited. It was...amazing," he said wistfully, taking another sip of his coffee and staring off into space.
"When are you going to see him again?"
Brendon smiled. "After work. I have to schedule a couple things for him. Then we're going to get some food."
"Gonna get some," Matt muttered.
He rolled his eyes.
"Okay, I'm gonna get to work."
"I should do the same," Brendon said, setting his coffee aside. "Lunch?"
"Always."
+
"Progress report, Urie."
Brendon looked up from his desk to Gary, who was standing a couple of feet away. "I've gotten all of the local papers to agree to do reports on them. I've lined up several photographers who will be attending the event; one is a freelance who will take pictures for your company to keep on file. I've talked to a couple television stations who said that they'll air clips on the late night news. And the journalist I met with yesterday? I lined up two interview for him for next week; one is with Ric Flair, who was retired at Wrestlemania, and the other is Shawn Michaels, the man who retired Flair," Brendon told him, sorting through his files.
Gary looked impressed. "Good job, Urie."
"Thank you, sir."
"I see you're making damn sure that I don't regret assigning you this case."
Brendon felt himself smile. "I believe I'm going to take that as a compliment."
"As you should." Gary nodded in his direction before turning around and walking towards his office.
"Score," he muttered, picking up his phone and dialing Ryan's number.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Ryan, it's me."
"Oh, hey, Brendon. Sorry, the number showed up as unknown."
Brendon smiled. "Yeah, sorry about that. Um. Okay, so I got your meetings lined up. You're interviewing Ric Flair next Thursday morning at eleven, you'll be meeting him at the Four Seasons on Madison. And on Thursday afternoon, at three, you'll be interviewing Shawn Michaels at the Hilton, right across form the Four Seasons. I know it's weird and probably inconvenient that they're both on the same days but, shit, it is hard trying to get an interview with Ric Flair," he explained. He heard Ryan laugh.
"It's okay, Bren. Thank you for doing this for me. I've been doing some research about the whole WWE and Summer Slam deal so, hopefully, I'll learn more before the interview."
Brendon missed Ryan's laughter--hell, he missed Ryan period. "Well, good. Did you want to get some dinner tonight?"
"Man, I have so much to get done. I just got three more articles today and-- God, I'm sorry, Brendon."
"Don't be. I know you're busy. Did you maybe want me to pick something up and bring it over?"
"You wouldn't mind?"
"If I did, I wouldn't offer, baby," Brendon said. "And I miss you. So, even if it's for a few minutes, I want to see you."
"It'll be longer than a few minutes. I'm gonna try and finish all of this up soon so you can have my undivided attention when you come over, okay?"
Brendon smiled. "Okay. Is pizza okay?"
"Yeah. I'll see you later."
+
"One large pizza with extra Brendon Urie on top," Brendon announced, smiling as Ryan opened his apartment door.
"Ah. How I missed your perverted innuendo," Ryan said, shaking his head. "Come on in."
Brendon smiled walking in and kicking off his shoes. He set his bag down and turned to him. "It's actually just cheese."
"You can set it on the coffee table. I'll get the drinks and napkins," he said.
Brendon set the pizza down on the coffee table and sat down on the side of the couch that wasn't covered in papers.
"Okay, so here's what I don't get," Ryan started, walking over towards the couch and handing Brendon a bottle of water. "All those years ago, when I stayed on the farm with you, how come you never spoke in a Southern accent?"
"You mean, why'd I nay-ver tawk like dis?" he asked, adopting a horrible Forrest Gump-like accent.
Ryan doubled over in laughter, falling onto Brendon's lap and crinkling the papers that were on the couch. "I cannot--" He shook his head, still laughing and trying to breathe. "I cannot--" He laughed again, forcing himself to stop laughing, and he cleared his throat. "I cannot believe you just said that."
Brendon smiled. "C'mon, it wasn't that funny."
Ryan sent him a look, laughing slightly. "Yeah, it was."
"Let's just eat," Brendon said. "And then you can laugh at me later."
+
They sat on the couch for the new two hours, watching bad television and eating the entire pizza. Brendon was laying on the couch against the back and Ryan was laying against his chest. Brendon slid a hand over Ryan's stomach, under his shirt, to just lay on his warm skin. Ryan burrowed back against him, his eyes drifting shut.
"Hey, Ryan?"
"Mmm?"
"Were you...seriously involved with anyone in the last five years?" Brendon asked quietly.
"Hmm?"
Brendon traced random shapes on Ryan's flat stomach. "I know it's stupid to ask but. I just. I have to know what you've been doing...relationship wise these past five years."
Ryan moved to lay on his back so he could face Brendon. His hair was in his eyes and Brendon gently pushed it back. "There's never been any serious involvement."
"Really?"
He nodded. "I dated this one guy, William, for a few months. But. It just didn't feel right. Like...sex wise, it never felt right with anyone else, you know? Like, okay, yeah, it felt good, but not...right. So I just didn't after a while," he told him.
"How long was a while?"
"About a year afterwards, I just...stopped," Ryan said quietly.
"So... You haven't had sex in, like, four years?"
Ryan shrugged. "Yeah."
"But...what if we never found each other again? Would you have, like, stayed celibate?" Brendon asked.
"Probably."
Brendon wasn't sure how to respond. "Why?"
"Because I love you," Ryan said. "And after I left, I knew nothing would be that great. And it wasn't. I slept with a few guys but none of them made me feel that good, you know? So I figured, I'd wait around. And even if I never found you again, I'd have an amazing memory. Just...anything else felt like cheating since you've always had my heart, you know?"
"I don't know what to say," Brendon whispered. He was shocked and in awe that Ryan would have waited as long as he had to, even the rest of his life, just because of him. "You're the most...incredible person I've ever met in my life, Ryan Ross. I love you, too."
Ryan smiled, leaning up and kissing him. "I knew you did," he whispered against his lips.
"How could I not?"
"True," Ryan said, kissing him again. "I don't want to ruin the mood, but--"
"There was no one serious for me, either. I, um. I dated Jon for a while," he admitted.
Ryan paused. "So much for the just friends, huh?" he asked, smiling.
"Not mad?"
"Who cares? I got you in the end," Ryan said, pressing his lips to the side of Brendon's neck and wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him on top of him.
Brendon smiled, pressing a kiss to Ryan's temple, running his hands along his sides. "Thank you for waiting for me."
"Thank you for still wanting me," Ryan whispered.
"How could I not?" he asked again, smiling.
Ryan knew his eyes had to be shining and he couldn't remember a time when he was so blissfully happy.
"So how about ending the celibate streak, huh?"
[x] Okay so, I personally really fucking hate writing happy endings. They're lame, cliche, stupid, and completely unrealistic so I hated writing this ending. Next time I write a standalone with a sad ending, there will be no sequel. Anyway. Yeah, WWE. I had to do it. Obviously, this takes place in the month before Summer Slam (which is on August 17th--guess who will be watching). I was going to make it longer but, well, I didn't, so. I like how it went, I suppose. Anyway. I hope you enjoyed it and the ending. And I don't know why I want to write more to this. I probably won't. Anyway! Thank you for reading.
Also, I'm in need of ideas for stories. So if you have any, let me know. Enough of that. Thank you for reading. Again.
Author: causticmayhemx
Pairing: Ryan Ross//Brendon Urie.
Rating: NC17.
Word Count: 6163.
Summary: The sequel to Down on the Farm. Five years after Ryan spent the summer with Brendon's family and he's still on Brendon's mind. Brendon finishes college and moves to New York for his new job, which holds more surprises than he initially thought.
Disclaimer: 100% faux.
Dedication: This is dedicated to everyone who read the last one and this one. You're the best.
A/N: There was no way I was gonna leave you all hanging. =] I hope you all like this. And yes, I talk about WWE a lot in here. Because you know what? I love it. Deal or don't read. Background information for before you read.
Everything We Had.
"Brendon! Make some coffee, enough for ten people, and bring cups, creamer, and sugar into conference room three. Hurry up!"
Brendon sighed, setting a couple of folders down in his cubicle before walking over to small kitchen. He got the coffee ready and stared at the conference room. The walls were windows, a dark brown door in the middle. His colleagues were shuffling around the room, setting out portfolios in front of each of the seats in the room, scrambling about to make sure the projector was working and that they had everything they needed.
He waited for the coffee to finish and he set the mugs on the tray, along with everything else he needed, and he carefully picked up the tray, carrying it back to the room. He nudged the door open with his foot and set the tray on the desk towards the side, arranging everything neatly. He looked up at the screen and saw the World Wrestling Entertainment logo.
"Dude, is Vince McMahon gonna be in here? Because I wanna kick his ass for being a douche bag and faking his own death," Brendon said.
Matt looked over at him. "You watch that shit?" he asked.
"No?"
Matt smiled. "You're crazy, farm boy."
Brendon rolled his eyes. "You're gonna call me that forever, aren't you?"
"Probably," Matt said, flipping through a portfolio before laying it down. "So when do you think us interns will actually get to sit in on a meeting and not, oh, I don't know, get coffee all day long?"
Brendon laughed. "It's been six months, Matt. I doubt it'll ever happen."
"We can hope."
"Well, then I'm hoping it's today. I love wrestling. Not even gonna lie," Brendon told him.
"Are you a RAW fan? ECW?"
"Smackdown all the way," he said, nodding. "I mean, Smackdown has The Undertaker."
Matt smiled. "I'm an HBK fan myself."
"The Showstopper," Brendon said, sighing wistfully. "I loved his Playgirl shoot..."
Matt laughed. "You looked at that?!"
"Who didn't?! And don't say you didn't, Matt. You're gay underneath the muscle, okay? I see right through you," Brendon said.
He ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, apparently you can."
Brendon smiled. "Man. I can't wait until the day we actually get to put our knowledge to the test, you know? I just want to actually do something. Getting coffee and copying papers isn't exactly what I signed on for."
"I know, right? I mean, shit. We have our degree so they have to know that we know what we're doing," Matt shook his head. "They just want to be top dog. They don't want any of us young guys to bowl them over with our extensive knowledge."
He laughed. "I agree."
"Brendon, Matt." Both of them looked up, meeting the eyes of Gary, their boss. He smoothed down the lapels of his dark gray business suit and nodded towards them. "Get your stuff. You're sitting in on this one."
Brendon's eyes lit up. "Are you serious?"
"Yes," Gary said, looking at his watch. "Now hurry up. And don't make an ass out of yourselves. That reflects badly on me."
"Yes, sir," Matt said, smiling, grabbing Brendon's arm and dragging him out of there. "Behave yourself."
Brendon smiled. "I will. I promise. You're such a good friend, Matt," he said, making his way to his cubicle and gathering together his folders and a notepad.
Matt rolled his eyes. "You're buying the beer tonight, then."
"Okay, sure," Brendon said. "I'll give you that one. You buy it every other time."
"Because you're poor and spend all of your money on John Deere catalogs."
Brendon laughed. "I do not! I don't even like John Deere."
"Sure you don't, farm boy. C'mon. Let's get back to the conference room before Gary kills us with his Rolex."
"Or his cuff links?"
"Those, too," Matt said.
The two of them walked back towards the room and stood by the table that held the coffee. Gary looked them up and down.
"Could the two of you look more haggard? You knew today was a big day. You couldn't even look nice?" he rolled his eyes.
Brendon looked down at his black pants, white shirt, and sweater vest. "Do I look haggard?" he asked, nervously adjusting his glasses.
Matt shook his head. "You look fine," he said quietly, motioning for him to be quiet.
Brendon held his folders to his chest, standing up straight, as the public relations and management team from World Wrestling Entertainment walked into the room. Gary shook hands with all of them, smiling. They all gathered around the table and Gary threw Brendon and Matt a look and they automatically sat down in the two chairs near the back of the room.
"I can't believe we get to sit in on a meeting," Brendon whispered, excited, as he opened his notebook. "What if Randy Orton walked in right now?"
Matt kicked his foot. "Shut up," he whispered through gritted teeth.
Brendon pouted briefly before getting over it and concentrating on the meeting.
+
The meeting was over within an hour and a half and Brendon and Matt waited in the back of the room while everyone else filed out. Gary shut the door behind them and looked over towards his interns. He sighed and shook his head, muttering under his breath as if he were arguing with himself about something.
"Brendon, Matt, come sit at the table," he said.
Brendon nodded and both of them walked towards the table and sat down. Brendon crossed his ankles and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "What's up?"
Gary sighed, sitting down across from them and folding his hands in front of him. "I'm going to give the two of you your first assignment. Now, normally, I wouldn't give my interns such a large assignment, however, you two have proven yourselves time and time again with the smaller accounts I've let you handle. The two of you will be working together and everything you do will have to be sent through me first for my approval," he told them.
Matt nodded. "What will we be working on?"
"The people who were just in here work for World Wrestling Entertainment. They have an event coming up in August, it's about a month away, on the seventeenth."
"Summer Slam," Brendon said.
Gary's eyebrows rose. "Yes, exactly."
"It's their biggest event over the summer. The press is going to be huge. Why are you entrusting us with this?" Brendon asked. "I mean, I'm flattered, obviously. I'm a huge fan. But. It's...huge."
Gary nodded. "I know it is. I wouldn't trust the two of you with it alone. Which is why you'll both work on it together. I trust that I've sufficiently supplied you with the knowledge that you need to handle this account. And if I feel that you can't, I'll pull you from it."
"Thank you for this opportunity," Matt said in earnest. "We'll do the best that we can. I hope you know that."
"I do, yes. Now, Brendon, you'll be working very closely with the press. News papers, magazines, journalists, all of that. Matt, you'll be working with advertisements; getting them on the air at the best times. You'll also work with the people who run the website, since you're a lot more computer savvy than Brendon," Gary said. He sighed again and looked at his hands before looking back up at his interns. "Don't let me down."
"We won't," Brendon said. "Promise."
+
"Want to go out for a celebratory drink?" Matt asked as the work day drew to an end.
Brendon shut down his computer and rearranged all of his files. He shrugged and placed the folder with all of Summer Slam's information into his messenger bag. "I guess, yeah."
Matt looked at him closely. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Brendon said, smiling. "Just nervous. It's our first big account and, I mean. It's nerve-wracking." He paused. "If you get to meet any of the wrestlers and I don't, I will beat you up."
Matt laughed. "I don't really want to meet them, don't worry."
Brendon picked up his jacket, sliding it on, before picking up his bag. "I want to. I want to meet The Undertaker."
"Isn't he the creepy one with the hat and the evil music?" Matt asked.
"Not creepy, not evil. He's amazing," Brendon corrected. "But yes, that's him."
Matt laughed, throwing an arm around Brendon's shoulder. "Let's go celebrate our extreme brilliance, yes?"
"Definitely."
+
"Ryan, stop."
"What?"
"Don't go. Please. I mean. You can't go, right? This is crazy. We're not done here. We-- We can't be."
Brendon gasped and sat up straight in his bed, heart beating wildly, forehead shining with sweat. He grabbed his glasses and glanced at his clock; it was three in the morning. He shook his head and slowly got out of bed. He wandered into his bathroom and flicked on the light, eyes squinting at the sudden brightness, and he turned on the sink, splashing his face with cold water. He studied his reflection for a minute.
"Stop thinking about him, you fool," he muttered, reaching for a towel and patting his face dry. He flipped off the light and wandered out into the small kitchen of his apartment. He grabbed a glass and got some water from the tap, drinking the entire cup, and he headed back to his room. He crawled under the covers and hugged the pillow to his chest. He removed his glasses and set them on the nightstand. And although he couldn't' read the time on the clock, he knew he didn't fall back asleep until sunrise.
+
"What the hell happened to you?"
Brendon looked up from his cup of coffee. "Tactless."
"You look haggard as hell, Brendon," Matt said. "And I say that in the nicest way possible. What happened?"
He shook his head. "Didn't sleep well," he told him. "That's all."
"You've looked bad all week, man, since we got that assignment. Gary might think it's too much and pull you. Or pull us," Matt said. "Don't let you not sleeping ruin this for us, man."
"I won't," Brendon said, rolling his eyes. "It has nothing to do with the assignment, okay? Just... Just dreams, okay?"
"Nightmares?"
He shook his head. "No, not exactly. Just. I keep having dreams of, like, the worst day of my life," he said, shrugging.
"But it's...not a nightmare?" Matt asked. "How does that work out?"
Brendon took a sip of his coffee. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay. Fair enough, I guess," he said, shrugging. "So Becka, the chick who runs all the audio and visual stuff on their website sent me a video, a little mock up of something she wants to do. Wanna look at it with me?"
"Sure."
+
"Do you want to talk about the dreams?" Matt asked him over lunch. He had decided to take his friend out for a bite to eat since his day had seemed so bad.
Brendon shrugged, taking a bite of his salad. "There's nothing to really talk about, you know?"
Matt paused. "No, not really."
"Oh, what do you know about it?" he muttered under his breath.
"Nothing," he said. "But I have a feeling that it must be bad. I've never seen you look like this, Brendon. And we went to college together, so I know when you're stressed out."
"This isn't stress-related, Matt," he said softly. "Okay?"
"Talk to me. I'm your best friend. I can help. Or, at least, try to help."
"You can't help this, Matt. I just have to stop thinking about it. That's all."
Matt sighed, shrugging his shoulders and picking up his burger. "Whatever."
Brendon ate half of his salad before setting his fork down. "His name is Ryan."
Matt rose an eyebrow, setting his food down and wiping his hands on a napkin. "What happened?"
"My mom was friends with his. When I was eighteen, he spent the summer with us because he...burned down a house. And his mom thought that if he stayed on our farm, it would help him or something," he told him.
"Did it?"
"I think it did," Brendon said. "But, um. I kissed him one day. In the barn. And, just. I never wanted to stop, you know? And it...evolved. And then he had to go home. That day...was the worst," he said, shaking his head.
"Did you love him?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. I know that I could've. I haven't seen him since."
"Wow. How long has it been?"
"Five years," Brendon said. "To the day on Summer Slam." He shook his head. "Oh, the irony, right?"
Matt sighed. "Wow. I just don't know what to say. That's just horrible."
"Yeah. I miss him a lot, you know? I think about him...a lot. I don't want to but I can't stop it."
"But... You've dated since, though. I mean, you dated that guy for a while--Jake?"
"Jon," Brendon said. "He and I should have never dated. I grew up with him and, after Ryan left, we just... Yeah. But... I haven't wanted to be with anyone. Ryan's always felt like my number one, you know?"
Matt smiled. "Sounds a lot like love to me."
Brendon shrugged. "I'm never going to see him again, so. I don't know why I even care." He glanced at his watch. "C'mon. We're running late."
+
The two of them managed to get back to the office without being late. Matt went his own way to line up an interview and Brendon went back to his desk. He was working on an e-mail when his phone rang.
"This is Brendon," he said, agitated but trying not to let it show.
"You have a meeting with a freelance writer after work. He's been assigned to cover the event."
Brendon nodded as Gary spoke, jotting down the information on a post-it note. "Time, place, and name?"
"Tonight after work at six, at the Starbucks on Fifth. His name is Ryan Ross."
Gary hung up and the phone slipped from Brendon's hand, falling onto his desk with a loud clank. He sat there for a minute, hand poised over the post-it note.
"Hey, Bren, can I-- What's wrong?" Matt asked.
Brendon shook his head, scribbling the rest of the information on the post-it. "Nothing."
Matt rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Can I steal your White Out?"
"Yeah," he said, barely paying attention. He dug it out of his drawer and handed it to him. "Keep it."
"Thanks." He studied his friend. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Brendon nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I am," he said, forcing a smile. "I am, thanks."
Matt smiled. "Awesome."
"Yes. Yes, I am," Brendon said.
Matt laughed. "Yes, you are. Oh, by the way. That Becka girl that I've been on the phone with half of today? With the WWE website? She sounds cute."
Brendon rolled his eyes. "And you've been hitting on her all day?"
"Of course," he said.
"Shameless."
"You love it," Matt said, laughing slightly. "Okay. I gotta go. You better finish that e-mail."
Brendon smiled. "Okay."
When Matt was out of his sight, he rested his head on his desk. He didn't know if it was the same Ryan Ross. And he didn't know if he wanted it to be or not.
+
The day slowly drew to an end, much to Brendon's demise, and he found himself procrastinating further; he didn't want to leave work. He didn't want to go to Starbucks. He didn't want to know if it was Ryan; and he definitely did not want to know if it wasn't. He sat in the chair in his little cubicle, spinning around a little bit.
"Is there a reason you're not leaving?" Matt asked, standing by his desk.
Brendon slowed to a stop and nodded. "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because?"
Matt rolled his eyes. "Because why?"
"Urie. Get your ass out of here or you'll be late for your meeting with Ross," Gary said, walking past his desk. "You know how bad the traffic is."
Brendon sighed, slowly standing up and grabbing his back. "I want to quit."
"You can't exactly quit an internship, Brendon," Matt said.
"Go to my meeting with me?" Brendon asked. "Please. I don't want to go."
"Why not?"
Brendon sighed. "Nothing. Never mind. I gotta go," he said, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his glasses. "Wanna walk out together?"
"Sure."
+
Brendon stood outside the door to the Starbucks for ten minutes. He had gotten there right at six, thanks to New York traffic, and he waited outside the door. He glanced at his watch. Almost quarter after. He sucked in a deep breath and reached for the door handle, but someone on the other side beat him to it, and the door swung open. Brendon's mouth dropped open.
"Ryan?"
Ryan froze. "Brendon? Is it-- I don't-- What?"
Brendon felt himself smile and he instinctively wrapped his arms around Ryan's waist. Even after five years, he could still recognize him from a mile away. Ryan looked basically the same, his hair was still rather long and he still wore it straight. He was taller, taller than Brendon had been, and still as thin as ever. "I knew it had to be you," he whispered into his hair. "I knew it."
Ryan slowly pulled away, keeping his hands on Brendon's shoulders. "You're the public relations guy I was supposed to meet?"
He nodded.
"You were late. I was about to leave," Ryan said, looking down.
"I know. I wasn't sure if it was you or not. I was nervous," Brendon told him. "I'm sorry."
Ryan shook his head. "Don't apologize, I-- God, it's been five years. You look--" Amazing. Gorgeous. Beautiful. "Good," he said. "You look good."
Brendon smiled. "You, too."
Ryan moved his hands and took a step back, shoving his hands in his pockets. "So, um. So, how have you been?" he asked, wondering if he looked as awkward as he felt.
"Do you want to get some coffee?" Brendon asked. "I mean. We can-- We can talk and then. Do what we're actually supposed to do," he laughed slightly. "Um. Work and...stuff."
Ryan nodded. "Okay. Okay, sure."
Brendon smiled again. "Okay. Okay, cool. Um. Starbucks okay?"
Ryan laughed. "Yeah. That's fine."
"Okay." He awkwardly walked around Ryan and into the Starbucks. The two of them found a free table by the window and sat down across from one another. He took off his messenger bag and set it down on the floor, wrapping the strap over his knee. "So. Um. How-- How have you been?"
Ryan looked down at his hands. "I've been okay. Working. I'm a freelance writer. I mean, I work a lot for the New Yorker and various magazines. So how did you end up in public relations?"
"I don't know," Brendon said honestly. "After you left, I had to get away from the farm. Everywhere I looked, it reminded me of you. So I applied to a couple colleges, went to one here, in New York. Then I got this internship and that's really been it. This is my first big assignment. Well, Matt and I are working it together."
"Matt?"
"He's my friend," he told him. "We roomed together senior year of college and we both got this internship, so."
Ryan nodded. "So, um. No boyfriend?"
Brendon looked up and their eyes met. Even after all this time, he was still able to read what was lying behind those caramel orbs. He looked back down and shook his head. "No."
"Me neither," he said quietly.
"What did you do after you left?" Brendon asked, voice choking slightly at the end of the question.
"I went home. Cleaned up my act. Graduated in the top of my class. Went off to college and majored in English. And apparently that did nothing for me since half of those sentences were fragments," he laughed slightly. "But, um. Then I moved to New York."
Brendon nodded, unable to meet Ryan's eyes again. A couple of minutes passed in silence before Brendon finally found the courage to speak again. "So, uh. Do you feel as awkward as I do?"
Ryan laughed a little. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I do. This is weird, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"I missed you," Ryan said quietly. "I missed you so much."
"I never got you out of my head, Ryan. No matter what I did, or where I went, or who was around. It only felt like you," Brendon told him. He finally looked up. "And I know this is the wrong place to say it. And I know it probably feels awkward and like I should've moved on, but I couldn't. And. You look really, really good."
Ryan smiled. "Um. My apartment is, um. A couple of blocks away," he told him. "It's small, but. It's close," he said.
Brendon knew that look as well as he knew...anything about himself, really. "Really?"
"Yeah."
Whether it was Brendon's brain thinking or the obvious sexual tension, it didn't matter. Brendon knew what he had to say. "Let's go, then."
+
Ryan led Brendon to his apartment, trying to make idle chit chat on the way there. Brendon smiled softly to himself; Ryan always rambled to himself whenever he was nervous. He reached out and grabbed Ryan's hand, squeezing it slightly, and his stomach did a little flip; just how it used to. His heart was pounding and he was sure that Ryan could hear it, that is, if he would shut up. Ryan walked faster when they actually entered the building; he would've ran but he knew that would make him seem too eager.
"The building doesn't have elevators," Ryan said quietly, leading him up the stair well.
"What floor are you on?"
"The third."
They finally got to the third floor and Ryan pushed open the door, nearly dragging Brendon down the hallway until he got to his room. He fumbled through his pockets for the key, having to release Brendon's hand. Brendon wrapped his arms around Ryan's waist, kissing the back of his neck. Ryan whined slightly, digging through his pockets again until he finally found his key. He managed to unlock the door on the first try and Brendon lightly pushed him into his apartment, turning him around and pressing him against the door, shutting it in the meantime.
Their lips met, for the first time in five years and, to Brendon, it felt like coming home. One of Brendon's hands delved into his hair; it was just as soft as he remembered, and his other hand was on his lower back, holding them closer. Ryan's hands were on his hips, neck arching forward to keep the two of them as close as possible. Ryan moaned against his mouth; his lips opened automatically when he felt Brendon's tongue, and he finally felt alive again.
Ryan's hand slipped to Brendon's ass, fingers gripping it almost possessively as Brendon nearly ravaged his mouth. He could barely think and Brendon couldn't remember a time when he had felt so good. Brendon's hand slipped further down Ryan's back, pressing their hips together as he felt himself straining against his jeans. Ryan moaned, rubbing their erections together, and Brendon bit at his lower lip, before his lips moved down to the side of his neck. He pressed his mouth to Ryan's pulse and could feel the blood pumping through him.
He moved his hand from Ryan's back to his front, hastily unzipping his jeans and sliding his hand in, fingers grasping around him. Ryan gasped, head falling back against the door, as he moved his own hand to massage Brendon outside of his jeans. Ryan could feel himself get closer and, when he came, the force surprised even himself. Brendon followed soon after, nearly collapsing against him, as the two of them struggled to get their breathing to return to normal.
Brendon pulled back and kissed his forehead. "You're so beautiful."
Ryan laughed slightly. "Still cheesy as ever, huh?"
Brendon smiled. "You missed it."
"Yeah," he nodded, resting his head against Brendon's chest. "I did."
+
"We never did talk about what we were supposed to talk about," Brendon said, his head resting on Ryan's chest as they lay together on the couch.
Ryan smiled, running his fingers through Brendon's hair. "When did you get all serious about what you're supposed to do?"
"Probably...senior year of college," he decided.
Ryan laughed. "Really?"
"Yeah."
"So what we were going to talk about? Not that you need an ego boost but I totally forgot the minute I saw you," Ryan said.
Brendon smiled. "Still got it."
Ryan laughed. "Yes. Yes, you do."
"Well," he started, "I think we had to set up an interview or two for you since you're covering the whole Summer Slam event."
"I don't even know what Summer Slam is."
Brendon sat up, looking down at him. "Are you serious?"
Ryan nodded, eyes wide. "Yeah... Is that. Is that bad?"
"Not really. I mean, I guess not everyone can love wrestling like I do, but. It's one of the biggest WWE summer events," he told him.
"Ah. So. I...talk to wrestlers?" Ryan asked.
Brendon smiled, laying back down next to him. "How long have you been doing your job? You sound clueless."
Ryan punched him in the side. "Jerk."
"Well, I know it's a far cry from burning down buildings, but--"
"Jerk!" Ryan repeated, louder, hitting him again.
Brendon smiled, turning his head to the side to press a kiss beneath Ryan's jaw. "You missed it."
He shrugged. "Maybe."
Brendon turned on his side so he could scoot closer. "Well. You can interview them if you want. I would suggest doing a tribute to Ric Flair."
"A tribute? Why? Is he even still wrestling? I thought he was old," Ryan rambled.
"Well, he was wrestling. He was retired at Wrestlemania, by Shawn Michaels. So maybe a tribute article, talking with him about his career, would be a nice dedication," Brendon told him.
"Could we set that up?"
"I'm in PR. I know who to talk to," Brendon said.
Ryan rolled his eyes.
Brendon paused. "Okay, I might not, but I know people who do," he corrected himself.
"Yeah? Who else should I do a spiel on? The guy who retired him? I mean, I bet he's proud," Ryan muttered.
"Oh, no, no, he feels awful. Ric was his mentor."
"Then why did he do it?"
"Why don't you ask him that?"
Ryan smiled. "I will."
"When I go to work tomorrow, I'll call their publicists and arrange all of that. Then I'll give you a call and let you know," Brendon said.
"Or you could just come over and tell me."
"Ryan Ross, are you trying to get into my pants?" Brendon asked, smiling.
Ryan laughed. "I don't need to try for that."
Brendon shook his head. "That's true."
+
Leaving Ryan's apartment the next morning was one of the most difficult things he had to do since seeing Ryan again (which wasn't saying much since they were just reunited fourteen hours prior to the morning). He borrowed some of Ryan's clothes, ensuring that he would see him again and ensuring that he wouldn't be humiliated by going to work in the same clothes as the day before.
He got to the office ten minutes early, just like normal, and he made some coffee, carrying a mug to his desk. He sat down in his chair, setting his bag to the side, and he took a sip of his coffee. He knew he was smiling, and he knew he probably looked creepy to anyone who was walking by, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.
"Did you get laid?"
Brendon peered up at Matt, who was standing by his cubicle, and laughed. "I can't smile without you assuming I've gotten laid?"
"Not that creepy smile, no," Matt said, staring at him for a minute. "What's up with you? The last time I saw you, you were freaking out about your meeting."
He shrugged. "I'm not freaked out anymore."
Matt moved to sit down on his desk. "What happened?"
"The guy I had to meet with? It was Ryan."
"The Ryan? The Ryan you're in love with Ryan?"
"I'm not in love with him," Brendon said. "And yes."
"Fate."
Brendon laughed. "If you want to call it that, sure."
"So you did get laid then, huh?"
"No!" he shook his head. "No. No, we talked most of the night."
"Did you stay there? Because those pants look way too long," he said.
Brendon looked down before nodding. "Yeah. I borrowed some of his clothes."
"You look happy."
"I am. God, it was so good to see him again. And it was so weird, you know? Because we were just talking about him and then bam, we're reunited. It was...amazing," he said wistfully, taking another sip of his coffee and staring off into space.
"When are you going to see him again?"
Brendon smiled. "After work. I have to schedule a couple things for him. Then we're going to get some food."
"Gonna get some," Matt muttered.
He rolled his eyes.
"Okay, I'm gonna get to work."
"I should do the same," Brendon said, setting his coffee aside. "Lunch?"
"Always."
+
"Progress report, Urie."
Brendon looked up from his desk to Gary, who was standing a couple of feet away. "I've gotten all of the local papers to agree to do reports on them. I've lined up several photographers who will be attending the event; one is a freelance who will take pictures for your company to keep on file. I've talked to a couple television stations who said that they'll air clips on the late night news. And the journalist I met with yesterday? I lined up two interview for him for next week; one is with Ric Flair, who was retired at Wrestlemania, and the other is Shawn Michaels, the man who retired Flair," Brendon told him, sorting through his files.
Gary looked impressed. "Good job, Urie."
"Thank you, sir."
"I see you're making damn sure that I don't regret assigning you this case."
Brendon felt himself smile. "I believe I'm going to take that as a compliment."
"As you should." Gary nodded in his direction before turning around and walking towards his office.
"Score," he muttered, picking up his phone and dialing Ryan's number.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Ryan, it's me."
"Oh, hey, Brendon. Sorry, the number showed up as unknown."
Brendon smiled. "Yeah, sorry about that. Um. Okay, so I got your meetings lined up. You're interviewing Ric Flair next Thursday morning at eleven, you'll be meeting him at the Four Seasons on Madison. And on Thursday afternoon, at three, you'll be interviewing Shawn Michaels at the Hilton, right across form the Four Seasons. I know it's weird and probably inconvenient that they're both on the same days but, shit, it is hard trying to get an interview with Ric Flair," he explained. He heard Ryan laugh.
"It's okay, Bren. Thank you for doing this for me. I've been doing some research about the whole WWE and Summer Slam deal so, hopefully, I'll learn more before the interview."
Brendon missed Ryan's laughter--hell, he missed Ryan period. "Well, good. Did you want to get some dinner tonight?"
"Man, I have so much to get done. I just got three more articles today and-- God, I'm sorry, Brendon."
"Don't be. I know you're busy. Did you maybe want me to pick something up and bring it over?"
"You wouldn't mind?"
"If I did, I wouldn't offer, baby," Brendon said. "And I miss you. So, even if it's for a few minutes, I want to see you."
"It'll be longer than a few minutes. I'm gonna try and finish all of this up soon so you can have my undivided attention when you come over, okay?"
Brendon smiled. "Okay. Is pizza okay?"
"Yeah. I'll see you later."
+
"One large pizza with extra Brendon Urie on top," Brendon announced, smiling as Ryan opened his apartment door.
"Ah. How I missed your perverted innuendo," Ryan said, shaking his head. "Come on in."
Brendon smiled walking in and kicking off his shoes. He set his bag down and turned to him. "It's actually just cheese."
"You can set it on the coffee table. I'll get the drinks and napkins," he said.
Brendon set the pizza down on the coffee table and sat down on the side of the couch that wasn't covered in papers.
"Okay, so here's what I don't get," Ryan started, walking over towards the couch and handing Brendon a bottle of water. "All those years ago, when I stayed on the farm with you, how come you never spoke in a Southern accent?"
"You mean, why'd I nay-ver tawk like dis?" he asked, adopting a horrible Forrest Gump-like accent.
Ryan doubled over in laughter, falling onto Brendon's lap and crinkling the papers that were on the couch. "I cannot--" He shook his head, still laughing and trying to breathe. "I cannot--" He laughed again, forcing himself to stop laughing, and he cleared his throat. "I cannot believe you just said that."
Brendon smiled. "C'mon, it wasn't that funny."
Ryan sent him a look, laughing slightly. "Yeah, it was."
"Let's just eat," Brendon said. "And then you can laugh at me later."
+
They sat on the couch for the new two hours, watching bad television and eating the entire pizza. Brendon was laying on the couch against the back and Ryan was laying against his chest. Brendon slid a hand over Ryan's stomach, under his shirt, to just lay on his warm skin. Ryan burrowed back against him, his eyes drifting shut.
"Hey, Ryan?"
"Mmm?"
"Were you...seriously involved with anyone in the last five years?" Brendon asked quietly.
"Hmm?"
Brendon traced random shapes on Ryan's flat stomach. "I know it's stupid to ask but. I just. I have to know what you've been doing...relationship wise these past five years."
Ryan moved to lay on his back so he could face Brendon. His hair was in his eyes and Brendon gently pushed it back. "There's never been any serious involvement."
"Really?"
He nodded. "I dated this one guy, William, for a few months. But. It just didn't feel right. Like...sex wise, it never felt right with anyone else, you know? Like, okay, yeah, it felt good, but not...right. So I just didn't after a while," he told him.
"How long was a while?"
"About a year afterwards, I just...stopped," Ryan said quietly.
"So... You haven't had sex in, like, four years?"
Ryan shrugged. "Yeah."
"But...what if we never found each other again? Would you have, like, stayed celibate?" Brendon asked.
"Probably."
Brendon wasn't sure how to respond. "Why?"
"Because I love you," Ryan said. "And after I left, I knew nothing would be that great. And it wasn't. I slept with a few guys but none of them made me feel that good, you know? So I figured, I'd wait around. And even if I never found you again, I'd have an amazing memory. Just...anything else felt like cheating since you've always had my heart, you know?"
"I don't know what to say," Brendon whispered. He was shocked and in awe that Ryan would have waited as long as he had to, even the rest of his life, just because of him. "You're the most...incredible person I've ever met in my life, Ryan Ross. I love you, too."
Ryan smiled, leaning up and kissing him. "I knew you did," he whispered against his lips.
"How could I not?"
"True," Ryan said, kissing him again. "I don't want to ruin the mood, but--"
"There was no one serious for me, either. I, um. I dated Jon for a while," he admitted.
Ryan paused. "So much for the just friends, huh?" he asked, smiling.
"Not mad?"
"Who cares? I got you in the end," Ryan said, pressing his lips to the side of Brendon's neck and wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him on top of him.
Brendon smiled, pressing a kiss to Ryan's temple, running his hands along his sides. "Thank you for waiting for me."
"Thank you for still wanting me," Ryan whispered.
"How could I not?" he asked again, smiling.
Ryan knew his eyes had to be shining and he couldn't remember a time when he was so blissfully happy.
"So how about ending the celibate streak, huh?"
[x] Okay so, I personally really fucking hate writing happy endings. They're lame, cliche, stupid, and completely unrealistic so I hated writing this ending. Next time I write a standalone with a sad ending, there will be no sequel. Anyway. Yeah, WWE. I had to do it. Obviously, this takes place in the month before Summer Slam (which is on August 17th--guess who will be watching). I was going to make it longer but, well, I didn't, so. I like how it went, I suppose. Anyway. I hope you enjoyed it and the ending. And I don't know why I want to write more to this. I probably won't. Anyway! Thank you for reading.
Also, I'm in need of ideas for stories. So if you have any, let me know. Enough of that. Thank you for reading. Again.