Beach Music 8.5 Brendon/Gerard NC17
Title: Beach Music
Author: cloudlessclimes
Rated: NC-17
Pairing:Brendon Urie/Gerard Way
Disclaimer: This is purely a product of my diseased mind and has no bearing on reality what so ever, I own no one, I know no one.
Summary: Oh God. Ages ago I started writing Beach Music, the summary of which is: Brendon Urie is and has always been a girl. She meets Gerard Way. Things happen. And, well, I haven't abandoned it, exactly. Life, it gets in the way sometimes, you know? So, I seem to be feeling it again. I really want to finish this. I really, do.
One Two-A Two-B Three-A Three-B Four Five-A Five-B Six-A Six-B Seven-A Seven-B Eight-A Eight-B Eight-C Extra 1-The Sun Always Shines on TV Extra 2-It's Oh So Quiet
“I'm sorry Rob Mathes, could you please say that again? I don't think Ryan heard you!” Brendon's smile is exaggerated and wide as she pointedly thumps her arm across Ryan's shoulders.
The producer stops stuffing papers into his messenger bag and tugs at the collar of his polo shirt, “Oh, uh well, I know I'm not producing a tour for you gents, and lady,” he nods deferentially towards Brendon, “But I just think that what you've got here is so organic, so pure, I think you should just, you know, be yourselves on stage and do away with all the fancy costumes and such.” Rob smiles at Ryan and winks at Brendon when he sees Jon and Spencer nod in agreement.
Hitching his shoulders to knock Brendon's arm free, Ryan sighs and says, “Okay, okay. You were right and I was wrong. No vaudeville thing now, you happy Bear?”
“Delirious!” Brendon smacks a kiss to Ryan's cheek and then crosses the small distance across the studio to hug Rob. “My hero!” She sighs melodramatically.
Rob laughs and gives Brendon's waist a brief squeeze. He tucks wayward papers under his arm and then, saluting with two fingers raised to his brow says, “Okay troops, we'll rally again in the morning,” and then heads out the door.
“And on that note; Del Taco!” Jon waggles his eyebrows at Ryan who gets to his feet.
Scratching nervously at her nose and clearing her throat, Brendon asks, “Um, hey guys do you think we could have like a little band meeting for a sec?” Jon and Ryan turn back from the doorway and Spencer walks out from behind his drum kit, a concerned expression on his face.
Ryan leans against the wall by the sound board, shoulders hunched. “Do we really need to work out tour shit now?”
“Nonono, not about the tour!” Brendon shakes her head back and forth and kicks at the leg of her chair. “I just, um, Jon lives in Chicago, right?” wide eyed and nervous, her glance twitches between Jon and Spencer.
Jon snorts and says, “Okay, so we have to have a super important band meeting to establish that I live in Chicago?”
“No kidding, Bren.” Ryan scowls at her and crosses his arms over his chest, sighing.
But Spencer just studies Brendon's face, taking in the nervous way she's brushing her fingertips through her hair and chewing on her lip, “Yeah, Jon lives in Chicago...and?”
Smiling at Spencer, who's standing beside her, Brendon exhales loudly and says, “And, well...I guess he lives in Chicago and it's no big deal, you know? I mean it doesn't affect us, the band, at all.” Brendon swallows and pulls the cuffs of her hoodie over her hands to prevent her twitching.
“Thanks for setting the record straight,” Jon chuckles and tugs at the scraggly growth of his beard.
Spencer snaps, “Would you just let her finish? Jesus!” and scowls at Jon and Ryan.
“So, I was thinking,” Brendon takes a deep breath and smiles up at Spencer, squeezing his forearm in thanks, “That if, like, I didn't live in Vegas it wouldn't be that big a deal. Right?”
“Not live in Vegas?” Spencer's voice is louder than he means it to be, and he feels bad when he sees Brendon's shoulders tense. “Where do you wanna live?”
Rubbing her hoodie sheathed hands over the bare skin above her knees, Brendon shrugs and mumbles, “I dunno, I was thinking maybe New York? Somewhere on the East Coast.”
Ryan lets out a sharp, mean laugh, “Ooh. Okay. I get it now. This is about Gerard Way, isn't it?”
Brendon looks up at Spencer for a second, before she turns to Ryan and says, “Um, not really...” and she won't meet his eyes.
“Oh yeah. This is totally like the time you were in love with Tom so you were gonna move to Chicago to be with him. Or after we got signed and you were in love with being a rock star so you were gonna move to L.A. because that's where are the rock stars are.” The inflection in Ryan's voice never changes but he rolls his eyes. “C'mon,” he punches Jon in the shoulder and turns to leave the room, “in a month she'll be in love with pandas or some shit and want to move to fuckin' China.” Jon laughs and the two of them head out the door.
Breathing in and out and staring at her hands, clasped loosely in her lap, in a quiet voice Brendon finally says, “He always does that-treats me like I'm some kind of fuckin' stupid little girl.”
Spencer pulls up a chair beside Brendon and slides an arm around her slim shoulders, hugging her to his side. “In case you haven't noticed, our best friend can be kind of a misogynist dickhead sometimes. I thought maybe Keltie had high kicked it out of him by now, but...” Spencer sighs and presses a firm kiss to Brendon's temple.
Brendon's laugh is forced and sad, “Yeah.” She leans into Spencer and sighs again.
“Haley moved to Vegas the day after she graduated high school,” Spencer says into the quiet of the room.
“Huh?”
“I mean,” Spencer licks his lips and takes Brendon's hand in his, “She was eighteen years old and moved across the country, away from her family and friends, and didn't really give a shit what anyone said, and she did it for me. To be with me. So,” he shrugs awkwardly and swipes at his nose with his free hand, “she kind of knows what it's like. I'm just saying, you know, to move away to be with someone, because you love him. If you want to talk to her...”
Brendon squeezes Spencer's hand. “You're the best, you know that?”
His grin softening, Spencer smiles wide and blinding and laughs, “Nah, I just know that there's a way to be happy that doesn't involve being in a band, no matter what Stockholm Syndrome bullshit Ryan Ross tries to pull on you.”
“C'mon,” Brendon laughs and tugs Spencer to his feet, “Jon and Ryan are probably trying to remember where they parked their cars.”
* * *
Gerard smiles and exhales, cigarette smoke rising towards the hotel room ceiling as he leans back against the mound of pillows, “Hey!”
“Hey yourself,” Brendon smiles back before fussing with her computer, her image going momentarily blurry in the iChat window.
“Nice shirt,” the smirk in Gerard's voice would be noticeable, even if Brendon couldn't see him.
Preening exaggeratedly and tugging at the frayed collar of Gerard's old dress shirt, Brendon returns his smirk with one of her own and says, “Thanks. I stole it from this hot rock star I know.”
She blows him a kiss and Gerard laughs, “Oh yeah, that reminds me,” he tilts over the side of the bed and yeah, so maybe Brendon ogles his ass a little, “Look what I found!” He makes a little tah-dah motion and the holds a stuffed cat, comically waving one of it's paws towards his laptop.
“Gee Cat!” Brendon's eyes widen and she holds her arms out towards Gerard, “I was looking all over for him!”
“Come and get'im.” Gerard leers exaggeratedly and Brendon laughs again, narrowly managing to stifle an enormous yawn. “How you doin' honey? You look tired.”
Managing a small, wan smile Brendon answers, “Yeah, I'm always tired. The boys probably think I have like, sudden onset narcolepsy or some shit. But, goes with the territory I guess...” Brendon's voice trails off and she shrugs her shoulders dismissively.
“So...you went to the doctor?”
“Oh! Yeah! Yeah, the clinic sent me to a really nice lady, who does not know my mother. We have a schedule for appointments and stuff,” Brendon stops winding her fingers through her hair to pick up her giant handbag and start digging through it. Taking out a large envelope, Brendon slides out the contents and says, “Hey! Can you see this?” when she holds it up to her web cam.
Squinting, Gerard follows the movement of the page in his iChat screen, then, eyes going comically wide as he realizes what he's looking at, he manages to mumble, “Uh, yeah...is that...?”
“Yeah! Baby's first sonogram,” Brendon sets the printout in her lap and wrinkles up her nose, smiling. “Apparently that black blob in the corner is the kid. I'm eight weeks and four days. I can send you a copy if you want?”
Gerard's swallows a few times, willing his voice to work and blinking away the tears that have gathered in his eyes. Holy shit! That's a baby! “That would be fuckin' awesome,” he manages to rasp, hand reaching out towards his computer.
“I'm not a slut,” Brendon blurts suddenly, causing Gerard's head to snap up.
“Honey, what? Of course you're not...I never...what?” he shakes his head in confusion, watching as Brendon crosses her arms over her chest, scowling.
Biting her lip and spending too long fitting the sonogram back into its envelope, Brendon finally says, “Back in Jersey, when I found out...when I told you...it might not be yours...”
“And I said I didn't care! Because I don't,” Gerard interrupts, nodding and trying his best to keep anger out of his voice.
Brendon sighs and tucks her hair behind her ears, “But I do,” she says softly, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “I know what people say about me, Gerard. But, like, it's not like I fuck every guy I meet, you know?”
“Brendon...” Gerard stops short when Brendon holds up a warning hand.
“I have a couple of...friends...guys...we like to have a good time, you know? I trust them. And when I met you, I didn't know it would be a, a thing, and after we met in Chicago...I fucked other people,” her face scrunches up and she exhales loudly, but she keeps talking, “but not since you came to Vegas, I promise. I'm not a slut,” she finishes, her chin jutted up in defiance.
Gerard feels like something sharp has broken off inside him and is ping-ponging around his ribcage. With her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed, Brendon looks even younger than she is, and her tacked on promise is such a little kid thing to say, Gerard isn't sure how to answer her for a second, then he smiles. “Hey now, Queen Bee, what you did before we decided we were...us...it's kind of none of my fucking business. And um, okay so I took dummy math and got the fuck outta high school, but off the top of my head? Our gig in Vegas, when I came to see you? Was eleven weeks ago and if you haven't been with anyone since then...”
He watches Brendon, her scowl softening, “I'm eight weeks...and that was eleven weeks ago so..it's...”
“Ours,” Gerard can't stop the ridiculous grin that threatens to engulf his entire face.
“I like that kind of math,” Brendon smiles in relief. “I really wanted it to be yours, Gerard.”
“Me too,” he admits, hiding his grin behind a swipe of his hand. “So, any idea when I get to see you again?” There's a flurry of noise somewhere to Gerard's right and he turns, saying “Yeah yeah, I'll be right there,” before he turns back to his laptop.
Brendon shrugs her shoulders up to her ears, “I'm not sure, I have a bunch of stuff I need to do here first, but soon, I think.” She chews on her bottom lip for a second, “Gerard? Can you maybe not tell anyone yet? Kara was eight weeks and she told everybody and then, well, she wasn't pregnant anymore and I don't want...”
“Of course, Bren. Whatever you want. We'll tell people together okay? It's gonna be alright.” He nods and smiles at Brendon, who's leaned in close to her web cam. There's more noise behind Gerard and he rolls his eyes, making Brendon laugh, “So, I gotta go, but I'll talk to you tomorrow soon, okay?”
“Okay. Same Bat Time same Bat Station?”
“You got it!” Gerard smiles as Brendon winks and blows him a kiss before he closes his laptop and heads out to deal with whatever it is Brian wants now.
***
“Dude!” Gerard jumps at Matt’s exclamation and quickly clicks on another open tab. “Your girl has one of the tightest bodies I’ve ever seen in my life and you’re, like, checking out old man porn? Wait! Is that Maggie Gyllenhaal?” Cortez leans over Gerard’s shoulder and peers at the computer screen.
Caught and embarrassed Gerard sighs, “Yes, that’s Maggie Gyllenhaal. And no, it’s not old man porn. And, why the fuck are you telling me that you think about Brendon’s body?”
Cortez snickers and whacks Gerard’s shoulder, “Man, you’re looking at ladies in their panties with like, naked boobies and shit. That’s totally old man porn. What’s next? You gonna stash your Dad’s National Geographics under your mattress?”
Gerard snaps the laptop closed and glares at Cortez, “For your fucking information, this website? Is for that fancy underwear Bren loves, okay you perv? I’m buying her a present, asshole,” he huffs, cheeks flushed red.
“Aww, Gee! That’s so cute!” Cortez ruffles Gerard’s hair and then smacks him on the shoulder, “Little GeeWay misses his lady!” Then he laughs obnoxiously loud as he continues on his way to the bus’s kitchenette.
***
Making a disgruntled, sleepy noise, Gerard bats around for his cell phone. He's been brought out of the first decent sleep he's had in ages by the insistent droning of Respect by Aretha Franklin; Brendon's ring tone. Fingers sliding around the smooth plastic case of his iPhone, Gerard opens one bleary eye and looks at the time: 3:42a.m. “Mmm...lo?”
“Mmm...Gee?”
Brendon's voice is high and breathy and so unlike her that Gerard sits bolt upright, banging his head off the top bunk. “Shit, Queen Bee, you okay? Is everything...”
Labored, whining breathing fills Gerard's ear for a moment then Brendon says, “Ummmm...no! I was having this dream...”
“Aw honey, did you have a nightmare?” Gerard smiles sympathetically into the phone as his heart rate returns to normal and he eases back in his bunk, fingers gently probing the sore spot just above his hairline.
Concerned by Brendon's hiccuping gasps, Gerard opens his mouth to speak when she finally replies, “Uhh, no. Fuck,” there's a sound of rustling and then she says, “I was dreaming about you! You were inside me and it was so fucking good.”
Gerard swallows heavily and all he manages is a weak, “Uh...”
“I miss you so bad right now,” Brendon husks into the phone, “miss how you feel inside me. Wish you were here right now.” She's breathless and the volume of her voice ebbs and flows, and Gerard can imagine only too well what she's doing that may cause her to lose hold of the phone.
He's quite frankly shocked that Brendon called to initiate it. They'd tried it before-- phone sex and cyber sex--and it had always ended with Brendon dissolving into helpless giggles and Gerard willing to take on what ever genius declared Blue Balls a myth. “I miss you too Brendon,” Gerard finally manages to whisper into the darkness of his bunk, “I wanna be with you so bad, I could...”
“Tell me?” Brendon's gasp is a thready plea, “Tell me what you'd do...if you were here. Pretend you're here,” she pants in the phone.
Gerard returns her gasp with one of his own and then swallows hard against the need that unfurls low in his guts, “Kiss you. I'd kiss you. That fuckin' freckle, right by your eye, like on your cheek bone. Wanna put my mouth on you, light like, just to start.”
“Fuckin' tease,” Brendon growls.
Gerard manages a chuckle, turning on his side to face the bunk wall, rubbing his hand across his forehead and cupping his cell phone close. “You fuckin' love it. Then I'd kiss you. Your fuckin' lips, Bren, you don't even know,” he shifts is hips beneath his ratty tour blanket, “that thing you do with your tongue, shit honey,” his voice is pitched lower than usual.
“Lick,” Brendon exhales the word, “wanna lick you, taste you. Uh, Gerard,” her voice is a low throaty mixture of anticipation and relief.
Gerard allows his free hand to roam down across his chest, resting low and comfortable on his belly, fingers spread wide, “You taste so damn good. Gonna bite that spot, on your neck, make you fuckin' moan.”
As though she can actually feel it, Brendon moans and whispers, “Yeah, yeah. Do it,” and whines through her nose.
“Wanna lick down your neck,” Gerard is breathing hard through his nose and his fingers slide just under the waist band of his pajama pants, teasing the very tip of his erection, “Bren,” he pants, licking his lips, “Want you to...can you do something for me?”
The unsteady cadence of Brendon's breath fills Gerard's ear for a moment and then she manages a shaky, “Mmm?”
Snaking his hand up across his chest to tease at the flat disc of his nipple, Gerard digs his forehead into his pillow and whispers, “Take your hand, and like, touch your breast. Pretend it's me?”
“Oooh, yeah!” Brendon's voice is almost startlingly loud, “feels fucking awesome when you touch me like that,” Gerard can hear the rustling of Brendon's sheets as she shifts beneath them, “more fuckin awesome when you use your teeth.”
Gerard's hip involuntarily hitch upwards, and the bus bunk squeaks in wooden protest at his movements. “Jesus Christ, Brendon! Wish I was there to kiss you everywhere. God, your stomach-I fuckin' can't get enough of your stomach.” He drops his hand to give his straining cock a cursory tug.
“Mmm-hmm, so good, Gee. I still have marks, from your teeth,” Brendon gulps down air, fighting to get out words and her voice is high and tight, “On my tummy, I mean...”
“Shit,” Gerard interjects, panting and trying to keep hold of his phone and use the same hand to muffle his aroused whines as he increases the pressure of his fingers on his dick, “Brendon...”
“I know!” she bursts out before adding in a low, confessional whisper, “Sometimes, when I'm really lonely I press on the bruises and pretend it's you.” Gerard whines, high pitched and needy at Brendon's words. His breath is a scatter shot huh huh huh through the phone as he gives in and flicks back the waistband of his sleep pants.
Making needy noises of her own, Brendon says, “Are you touching yourself, Gee? Are you pretending it's me?”
“Yes,” Gerard hisses, clutching his cell phone so tightly his knuckles are white He closes his eyes and sinks into the glide and flex of his circled fingers around his aching cock.
“I wish you were,” Brendon says again, her voice barely more than a wistful exhalation of breath. “I tried, with my...my hand, but it wasn't the same, wasn't enough...” Her voice trails off in a moan and Gerard's breath stutters in his chest at the images her words cause to flash behind his tightly closed eyelids.
Trying to kick free of the tangled mess of his sheets, Gerard's grip on his phone loosens and it slides from his fingers. He just manages to catch it before the phone clatters free of his bunk. “Shit Queen Bee, do it. Fuckin' pretend I'm there. I wanna be.” He swipes his forehead across his forearm, smearing droplets of perspiration into the stained cotton of his shirt sleeve, and tightens the slide-hold on his hard cock. “Do you...have somethin'...?”
“Yeah, yeah...my purple one,” Brendon hiccups. “God, so good. Want you to fuck me so hard, Gee. M'so wet for you.”
“Mmm,” is all Gerard can manage through his clenched teeth. He's rocking up into the feeling of his circled fingers against sensitive skin, the electric snap of impending orgasm sparking at the base of his spine. He takes a few gulping breaths, listening to Brendon's reactions to what he imagines she's doing. “Yeah,” he exhales a long plume of breath, fluttering the hair over his forehead, “Shit, I can fuckin' feel you, Bren. Wanna taste you.” His nostrils flair as he exhales again, “Miss you.”
“Me too. ohohohoh” Gerard's hips twitch, matching the increasingly frantic stutter of Brendon's breathing. His tongue tip darts across his top lip, like he can taste her orgasm. He muffles a shout with his forearm and comes spilling into his hand and onto the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms.
Long seconds are filled with nothing but the tandem sounds of their shallow breathing. When Gerard can martial the wherewithal, he takes his hand out of his pants and wipes his fingers along the tousled knot of his sheets. “Holy shit, Brendon,” his voice is a rusted out wreck. He licks his lips and clenches tightly at the phone.
Brendon giggles, sleepy and soft, “Mmm hmm.” He can picture her and his hands itch to hold her. He knows that afterwards, she likes to be petted and cuddled into sleep. “Gee? Will you-will you stay on the phone til I fall asleep?”
“ 'course,” he answers immediately, despite the grainy itch of sleep tugging at him.
***
Gerard opens his gmail and laughs. There’s a new email from Brendon with the subject line : <3 <3 <3 <3!!!!!!!!!! He laughs more when he opens it and the entire body of the text reads:Thank You! You are the best, ever! I <3 it so much!! Noticing the attachment Gerard clicks on it and his chuckling dies in a surprised groan.
Brendon’s attached pics of herself, wearing the present Gerard had mailed to her. She's standing in front of a mirror wearing the tiny, sheer slipnightgownthing, one finger of her free hand twisted in the ruffled lace at its hem, the slightest glimpse of her white teeth where she’s biting into her plump bottom lip. The material skims her body and leaves little to the imagination (and if Gerard’s being honest with himself, he’s been using his imagination a lot in Brendon’s absence), the light casting shadows and making the curves and hollows of Brendon’s hips and breast and thighs stand out. She’s so fucking beautiful it makes Gerard ache, and he reaches out to trace the lines of her body with his index finger.
Shaking himself, Gerard draws his hand back from the screen and casts a guilty glance around the bus. He's still alone and he shakes his head, chuckling a little under his breath at his own ridiculousness. He minimizes the picture of Brendon and sees that there's another attachment. He clicks on this one wondering what sexy-ridiculous pose Brendon's come up with, and once the photo fills his screen all the breath is knocked from his lungs.
Gerard had forgotten Brendon's promise to send him her first ultrasound. But, in grainy black and white, that's the image he's staring at; can't look away from. Something that feels a like awe and joy and a lot like something he has no words for fills the spaces inside Gerard where breath used to be. He loses track of time, memorizing every line and shadow on the screen, knowing it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
Gerard hits print and snatches the page out of the printer before anyone comes back onto the bus and he has to explain what he's doing; put into words the incredible feeling. Still grinning, Gerard carefully folds the page and then takes his wallet out of his back pocket, tucking the page behind his drivers license for safe keeping. He nods and says softly, “Dad's keep pictures of their kids in their wallets, right?” and then stuffs it back into his pocket. Dad? Somewhat shell shocked at the first time he's let himself think the word, Gerard sits down hard on the sofa, repeatedly rubbing his fingers over his lips and staring into space.
Author: cloudlessclimes
Rated: NC-17
Pairing:Brendon Urie/Gerard Way
Disclaimer: This is purely a product of my diseased mind and has no bearing on reality what so ever, I own no one, I know no one.
Summary: Oh God. Ages ago I started writing Beach Music, the summary of which is: Brendon Urie is and has always been a girl. She meets Gerard Way. Things happen. And, well, I haven't abandoned it, exactly. Life, it gets in the way sometimes, you know? So, I seem to be feeling it again. I really want to finish this. I really, do.
One Two-A Two-B Three-A Three-B Four Five-A Five-B Six-A Six-B Seven-A Seven-B Eight-A Eight-B Eight-C Extra 1-The Sun Always Shines on TV Extra 2-It's Oh So Quiet
“I'm sorry Rob Mathes, could you please say that again? I don't think Ryan heard you!” Brendon's smile is exaggerated and wide as she pointedly thumps her arm across Ryan's shoulders.
The producer stops stuffing papers into his messenger bag and tugs at the collar of his polo shirt, “Oh, uh well, I know I'm not producing a tour for you gents, and lady,” he nods deferentially towards Brendon, “But I just think that what you've got here is so organic, so pure, I think you should just, you know, be yourselves on stage and do away with all the fancy costumes and such.” Rob smiles at Ryan and winks at Brendon when he sees Jon and Spencer nod in agreement.
Hitching his shoulders to knock Brendon's arm free, Ryan sighs and says, “Okay, okay. You were right and I was wrong. No vaudeville thing now, you happy Bear?”
“Delirious!” Brendon smacks a kiss to Ryan's cheek and then crosses the small distance across the studio to hug Rob. “My hero!” She sighs melodramatically.
Rob laughs and gives Brendon's waist a brief squeeze. He tucks wayward papers under his arm and then, saluting with two fingers raised to his brow says, “Okay troops, we'll rally again in the morning,” and then heads out the door.
“And on that note; Del Taco!” Jon waggles his eyebrows at Ryan who gets to his feet.
Scratching nervously at her nose and clearing her throat, Brendon asks, “Um, hey guys do you think we could have like a little band meeting for a sec?” Jon and Ryan turn back from the doorway and Spencer walks out from behind his drum kit, a concerned expression on his face.
Ryan leans against the wall by the sound board, shoulders hunched. “Do we really need to work out tour shit now?”
“Nonono, not about the tour!” Brendon shakes her head back and forth and kicks at the leg of her chair. “I just, um, Jon lives in Chicago, right?” wide eyed and nervous, her glance twitches between Jon and Spencer.
Jon snorts and says, “Okay, so we have to have a super important band meeting to establish that I live in Chicago?”
“No kidding, Bren.” Ryan scowls at her and crosses his arms over his chest, sighing.
But Spencer just studies Brendon's face, taking in the nervous way she's brushing her fingertips through her hair and chewing on her lip, “Yeah, Jon lives in Chicago...and?”
Smiling at Spencer, who's standing beside her, Brendon exhales loudly and says, “And, well...I guess he lives in Chicago and it's no big deal, you know? I mean it doesn't affect us, the band, at all.” Brendon swallows and pulls the cuffs of her hoodie over her hands to prevent her twitching.
“Thanks for setting the record straight,” Jon chuckles and tugs at the scraggly growth of his beard.
Spencer snaps, “Would you just let her finish? Jesus!” and scowls at Jon and Ryan.
“So, I was thinking,” Brendon takes a deep breath and smiles up at Spencer, squeezing his forearm in thanks, “That if, like, I didn't live in Vegas it wouldn't be that big a deal. Right?”
“Not live in Vegas?” Spencer's voice is louder than he means it to be, and he feels bad when he sees Brendon's shoulders tense. “Where do you wanna live?”
Rubbing her hoodie sheathed hands over the bare skin above her knees, Brendon shrugs and mumbles, “I dunno, I was thinking maybe New York? Somewhere on the East Coast.”
Ryan lets out a sharp, mean laugh, “Ooh. Okay. I get it now. This is about Gerard Way, isn't it?”
Brendon looks up at Spencer for a second, before she turns to Ryan and says, “Um, not really...” and she won't meet his eyes.
“Oh yeah. This is totally like the time you were in love with Tom so you were gonna move to Chicago to be with him. Or after we got signed and you were in love with being a rock star so you were gonna move to L.A. because that's where are the rock stars are.” The inflection in Ryan's voice never changes but he rolls his eyes. “C'mon,” he punches Jon in the shoulder and turns to leave the room, “in a month she'll be in love with pandas or some shit and want to move to fuckin' China.” Jon laughs and the two of them head out the door.
Breathing in and out and staring at her hands, clasped loosely in her lap, in a quiet voice Brendon finally says, “He always does that-treats me like I'm some kind of fuckin' stupid little girl.”
Spencer pulls up a chair beside Brendon and slides an arm around her slim shoulders, hugging her to his side. “In case you haven't noticed, our best friend can be kind of a misogynist dickhead sometimes. I thought maybe Keltie had high kicked it out of him by now, but...” Spencer sighs and presses a firm kiss to Brendon's temple.
Brendon's laugh is forced and sad, “Yeah.” She leans into Spencer and sighs again.
“Haley moved to Vegas the day after she graduated high school,” Spencer says into the quiet of the room.
“Huh?”
“I mean,” Spencer licks his lips and takes Brendon's hand in his, “She was eighteen years old and moved across the country, away from her family and friends, and didn't really give a shit what anyone said, and she did it for me. To be with me. So,” he shrugs awkwardly and swipes at his nose with his free hand, “she kind of knows what it's like. I'm just saying, you know, to move away to be with someone, because you love him. If you want to talk to her...”
Brendon squeezes Spencer's hand. “You're the best, you know that?”
His grin softening, Spencer smiles wide and blinding and laughs, “Nah, I just know that there's a way to be happy that doesn't involve being in a band, no matter what Stockholm Syndrome bullshit Ryan Ross tries to pull on you.”
“C'mon,” Brendon laughs and tugs Spencer to his feet, “Jon and Ryan are probably trying to remember where they parked their cars.”
* * *
Gerard smiles and exhales, cigarette smoke rising towards the hotel room ceiling as he leans back against the mound of pillows, “Hey!”
“Hey yourself,” Brendon smiles back before fussing with her computer, her image going momentarily blurry in the iChat window.
“Nice shirt,” the smirk in Gerard's voice would be noticeable, even if Brendon couldn't see him.
Preening exaggeratedly and tugging at the frayed collar of Gerard's old dress shirt, Brendon returns his smirk with one of her own and says, “Thanks. I stole it from this hot rock star I know.”
She blows him a kiss and Gerard laughs, “Oh yeah, that reminds me,” he tilts over the side of the bed and yeah, so maybe Brendon ogles his ass a little, “Look what I found!” He makes a little tah-dah motion and the holds a stuffed cat, comically waving one of it's paws towards his laptop.
“Gee Cat!” Brendon's eyes widen and she holds her arms out towards Gerard, “I was looking all over for him!”
“Come and get'im.” Gerard leers exaggeratedly and Brendon laughs again, narrowly managing to stifle an enormous yawn. “How you doin' honey? You look tired.”
Managing a small, wan smile Brendon answers, “Yeah, I'm always tired. The boys probably think I have like, sudden onset narcolepsy or some shit. But, goes with the territory I guess...” Brendon's voice trails off and she shrugs her shoulders dismissively.
“So...you went to the doctor?”
“Oh! Yeah! Yeah, the clinic sent me to a really nice lady, who does not know my mother. We have a schedule for appointments and stuff,” Brendon stops winding her fingers through her hair to pick up her giant handbag and start digging through it. Taking out a large envelope, Brendon slides out the contents and says, “Hey! Can you see this?” when she holds it up to her web cam.
Squinting, Gerard follows the movement of the page in his iChat screen, then, eyes going comically wide as he realizes what he's looking at, he manages to mumble, “Uh, yeah...is that...?”
“Yeah! Baby's first sonogram,” Brendon sets the printout in her lap and wrinkles up her nose, smiling. “Apparently that black blob in the corner is the kid. I'm eight weeks and four days. I can send you a copy if you want?”
Gerard's swallows a few times, willing his voice to work and blinking away the tears that have gathered in his eyes. Holy shit! That's a baby! “That would be fuckin' awesome,” he manages to rasp, hand reaching out towards his computer.
“I'm not a slut,” Brendon blurts suddenly, causing Gerard's head to snap up.
“Honey, what? Of course you're not...I never...what?” he shakes his head in confusion, watching as Brendon crosses her arms over her chest, scowling.
Biting her lip and spending too long fitting the sonogram back into its envelope, Brendon finally says, “Back in Jersey, when I found out...when I told you...it might not be yours...”
“And I said I didn't care! Because I don't,” Gerard interrupts, nodding and trying his best to keep anger out of his voice.
Brendon sighs and tucks her hair behind her ears, “But I do,” she says softly, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “I know what people say about me, Gerard. But, like, it's not like I fuck every guy I meet, you know?”
“Brendon...” Gerard stops short when Brendon holds up a warning hand.
“I have a couple of...friends...guys...we like to have a good time, you know? I trust them. And when I met you, I didn't know it would be a, a thing, and after we met in Chicago...I fucked other people,” her face scrunches up and she exhales loudly, but she keeps talking, “but not since you came to Vegas, I promise. I'm not a slut,” she finishes, her chin jutted up in defiance.
Gerard feels like something sharp has broken off inside him and is ping-ponging around his ribcage. With her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed, Brendon looks even younger than she is, and her tacked on promise is such a little kid thing to say, Gerard isn't sure how to answer her for a second, then he smiles. “Hey now, Queen Bee, what you did before we decided we were...us...it's kind of none of my fucking business. And um, okay so I took dummy math and got the fuck outta high school, but off the top of my head? Our gig in Vegas, when I came to see you? Was eleven weeks ago and if you haven't been with anyone since then...”
He watches Brendon, her scowl softening, “I'm eight weeks...and that was eleven weeks ago so..it's...”
“Ours,” Gerard can't stop the ridiculous grin that threatens to engulf his entire face.
“I like that kind of math,” Brendon smiles in relief. “I really wanted it to be yours, Gerard.”
“Me too,” he admits, hiding his grin behind a swipe of his hand. “So, any idea when I get to see you again?” There's a flurry of noise somewhere to Gerard's right and he turns, saying “Yeah yeah, I'll be right there,” before he turns back to his laptop.
Brendon shrugs her shoulders up to her ears, “I'm not sure, I have a bunch of stuff I need to do here first, but soon, I think.” She chews on her bottom lip for a second, “Gerard? Can you maybe not tell anyone yet? Kara was eight weeks and she told everybody and then, well, she wasn't pregnant anymore and I don't want...”
“Of course, Bren. Whatever you want. We'll tell people together okay? It's gonna be alright.” He nods and smiles at Brendon, who's leaned in close to her web cam. There's more noise behind Gerard and he rolls his eyes, making Brendon laugh, “So, I gotta go, but I'll talk to you tomorrow soon, okay?”
“Okay. Same Bat Time same Bat Station?”
“You got it!” Gerard smiles as Brendon winks and blows him a kiss before he closes his laptop and heads out to deal with whatever it is Brian wants now.
***
“Dude!” Gerard jumps at Matt’s exclamation and quickly clicks on another open tab. “Your girl has one of the tightest bodies I’ve ever seen in my life and you’re, like, checking out old man porn? Wait! Is that Maggie Gyllenhaal?” Cortez leans over Gerard’s shoulder and peers at the computer screen.
Caught and embarrassed Gerard sighs, “Yes, that’s Maggie Gyllenhaal. And no, it’s not old man porn. And, why the fuck are you telling me that you think about Brendon’s body?”
Cortez snickers and whacks Gerard’s shoulder, “Man, you’re looking at ladies in their panties with like, naked boobies and shit. That’s totally old man porn. What’s next? You gonna stash your Dad’s National Geographics under your mattress?”
Gerard snaps the laptop closed and glares at Cortez, “For your fucking information, this website? Is for that fancy underwear Bren loves, okay you perv? I’m buying her a present, asshole,” he huffs, cheeks flushed red.
“Aww, Gee! That’s so cute!” Cortez ruffles Gerard’s hair and then smacks him on the shoulder, “Little GeeWay misses his lady!” Then he laughs obnoxiously loud as he continues on his way to the bus’s kitchenette.
***
Making a disgruntled, sleepy noise, Gerard bats around for his cell phone. He's been brought out of the first decent sleep he's had in ages by the insistent droning of Respect by Aretha Franklin; Brendon's ring tone. Fingers sliding around the smooth plastic case of his iPhone, Gerard opens one bleary eye and looks at the time: 3:42a.m. “Mmm...lo?”
“Mmm...Gee?”
Brendon's voice is high and breathy and so unlike her that Gerard sits bolt upright, banging his head off the top bunk. “Shit, Queen Bee, you okay? Is everything...”
Labored, whining breathing fills Gerard's ear for a moment then Brendon says, “Ummmm...no! I was having this dream...”
“Aw honey, did you have a nightmare?” Gerard smiles sympathetically into the phone as his heart rate returns to normal and he eases back in his bunk, fingers gently probing the sore spot just above his hairline.
Concerned by Brendon's hiccuping gasps, Gerard opens his mouth to speak when she finally replies, “Uhh, no. Fuck,” there's a sound of rustling and then she says, “I was dreaming about you! You were inside me and it was so fucking good.”
Gerard swallows heavily and all he manages is a weak, “Uh...”
“I miss you so bad right now,” Brendon husks into the phone, “miss how you feel inside me. Wish you were here right now.” She's breathless and the volume of her voice ebbs and flows, and Gerard can imagine only too well what she's doing that may cause her to lose hold of the phone.
He's quite frankly shocked that Brendon called to initiate it. They'd tried it before-- phone sex and cyber sex--and it had always ended with Brendon dissolving into helpless giggles and Gerard willing to take on what ever genius declared Blue Balls a myth. “I miss you too Brendon,” Gerard finally manages to whisper into the darkness of his bunk, “I wanna be with you so bad, I could...”
“Tell me?” Brendon's gasp is a thready plea, “Tell me what you'd do...if you were here. Pretend you're here,” she pants in the phone.
Gerard returns her gasp with one of his own and then swallows hard against the need that unfurls low in his guts, “Kiss you. I'd kiss you. That fuckin' freckle, right by your eye, like on your cheek bone. Wanna put my mouth on you, light like, just to start.”
“Fuckin' tease,” Brendon growls.
Gerard manages a chuckle, turning on his side to face the bunk wall, rubbing his hand across his forehead and cupping his cell phone close. “You fuckin' love it. Then I'd kiss you. Your fuckin' lips, Bren, you don't even know,” he shifts is hips beneath his ratty tour blanket, “that thing you do with your tongue, shit honey,” his voice is pitched lower than usual.
“Lick,” Brendon exhales the word, “wanna lick you, taste you. Uh, Gerard,” her voice is a low throaty mixture of anticipation and relief.
Gerard allows his free hand to roam down across his chest, resting low and comfortable on his belly, fingers spread wide, “You taste so damn good. Gonna bite that spot, on your neck, make you fuckin' moan.”
As though she can actually feel it, Brendon moans and whispers, “Yeah, yeah. Do it,” and whines through her nose.
“Wanna lick down your neck,” Gerard is breathing hard through his nose and his fingers slide just under the waist band of his pajama pants, teasing the very tip of his erection, “Bren,” he pants, licking his lips, “Want you to...can you do something for me?”
The unsteady cadence of Brendon's breath fills Gerard's ear for a moment and then she manages a shaky, “Mmm?”
Snaking his hand up across his chest to tease at the flat disc of his nipple, Gerard digs his forehead into his pillow and whispers, “Take your hand, and like, touch your breast. Pretend it's me?”
“Oooh, yeah!” Brendon's voice is almost startlingly loud, “feels fucking awesome when you touch me like that,” Gerard can hear the rustling of Brendon's sheets as she shifts beneath them, “more fuckin awesome when you use your teeth.”
Gerard's hip involuntarily hitch upwards, and the bus bunk squeaks in wooden protest at his movements. “Jesus Christ, Brendon! Wish I was there to kiss you everywhere. God, your stomach-I fuckin' can't get enough of your stomach.” He drops his hand to give his straining cock a cursory tug.
“Mmm-hmm, so good, Gee. I still have marks, from your teeth,” Brendon gulps down air, fighting to get out words and her voice is high and tight, “On my tummy, I mean...”
“Shit,” Gerard interjects, panting and trying to keep hold of his phone and use the same hand to muffle his aroused whines as he increases the pressure of his fingers on his dick, “Brendon...”
“I know!” she bursts out before adding in a low, confessional whisper, “Sometimes, when I'm really lonely I press on the bruises and pretend it's you.” Gerard whines, high pitched and needy at Brendon's words. His breath is a scatter shot huh huh huh through the phone as he gives in and flicks back the waistband of his sleep pants.
Making needy noises of her own, Brendon says, “Are you touching yourself, Gee? Are you pretending it's me?”
“Yes,” Gerard hisses, clutching his cell phone so tightly his knuckles are white He closes his eyes and sinks into the glide and flex of his circled fingers around his aching cock.
“I wish you were,” Brendon says again, her voice barely more than a wistful exhalation of breath. “I tried, with my...my hand, but it wasn't the same, wasn't enough...” Her voice trails off in a moan and Gerard's breath stutters in his chest at the images her words cause to flash behind his tightly closed eyelids.
Trying to kick free of the tangled mess of his sheets, Gerard's grip on his phone loosens and it slides from his fingers. He just manages to catch it before the phone clatters free of his bunk. “Shit Queen Bee, do it. Fuckin' pretend I'm there. I wanna be.” He swipes his forehead across his forearm, smearing droplets of perspiration into the stained cotton of his shirt sleeve, and tightens the slide-hold on his hard cock. “Do you...have somethin'...?”
“Yeah, yeah...my purple one,” Brendon hiccups. “God, so good. Want you to fuck me so hard, Gee. M'so wet for you.”
“Mmm,” is all Gerard can manage through his clenched teeth. He's rocking up into the feeling of his circled fingers against sensitive skin, the electric snap of impending orgasm sparking at the base of his spine. He takes a few gulping breaths, listening to Brendon's reactions to what he imagines she's doing. “Yeah,” he exhales a long plume of breath, fluttering the hair over his forehead, “Shit, I can fuckin' feel you, Bren. Wanna taste you.” His nostrils flair as he exhales again, “Miss you.”
“Me too. ohohohoh” Gerard's hips twitch, matching the increasingly frantic stutter of Brendon's breathing. His tongue tip darts across his top lip, like he can taste her orgasm. He muffles a shout with his forearm and comes spilling into his hand and onto the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms.
Long seconds are filled with nothing but the tandem sounds of their shallow breathing. When Gerard can martial the wherewithal, he takes his hand out of his pants and wipes his fingers along the tousled knot of his sheets. “Holy shit, Brendon,” his voice is a rusted out wreck. He licks his lips and clenches tightly at the phone.
Brendon giggles, sleepy and soft, “Mmm hmm.” He can picture her and his hands itch to hold her. He knows that afterwards, she likes to be petted and cuddled into sleep. “Gee? Will you-will you stay on the phone til I fall asleep?”
“ 'course,” he answers immediately, despite the grainy itch of sleep tugging at him.
***
Gerard opens his gmail and laughs. There’s a new email from Brendon with the subject line : <3 <3 <3 <3!!!!!!!!!! He laughs more when he opens it and the entire body of the text reads:Thank You! You are the best, ever! I <3 it so much!! Noticing the attachment Gerard clicks on it and his chuckling dies in a surprised groan.
Brendon’s attached pics of herself, wearing the present Gerard had mailed to her. She's standing in front of a mirror wearing the tiny, sheer slipnightgownthing, one finger of her free hand twisted in the ruffled lace at its hem, the slightest glimpse of her white teeth where she’s biting into her plump bottom lip. The material skims her body and leaves little to the imagination (and if Gerard’s being honest with himself, he’s been using his imagination a lot in Brendon’s absence), the light casting shadows and making the curves and hollows of Brendon’s hips and breast and thighs stand out. She’s so fucking beautiful it makes Gerard ache, and he reaches out to trace the lines of her body with his index finger.
Shaking himself, Gerard draws his hand back from the screen and casts a guilty glance around the bus. He's still alone and he shakes his head, chuckling a little under his breath at his own ridiculousness. He minimizes the picture of Brendon and sees that there's another attachment. He clicks on this one wondering what sexy-ridiculous pose Brendon's come up with, and once the photo fills his screen all the breath is knocked from his lungs.
Gerard had forgotten Brendon's promise to send him her first ultrasound. But, in grainy black and white, that's the image he's staring at; can't look away from. Something that feels a like awe and joy and a lot like something he has no words for fills the spaces inside Gerard where breath used to be. He loses track of time, memorizing every line and shadow on the screen, knowing it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
Gerard hits print and snatches the page out of the printer before anyone comes back onto the bus and he has to explain what he's doing; put into words the incredible feeling. Still grinning, Gerard carefully folds the page and then takes his wallet out of his back pocket, tucking the page behind his drivers license for safe keeping. He nods and says softly, “Dad's keep pictures of their kids in their wallets, right?” and then stuffs it back into his pocket. Dad? Somewhat shell shocked at the first time he's let himself think the word, Gerard sits down hard on the sofa, repeatedly rubbing his fingers over his lips and staring into space.