Everything's Gonna Fall (Right Into Place) | R | Brendon/Spencer
Title: Everything's Gonna Fall (Right Into Place)
Author: fatal_overdose
Rating: Light R
Fandom: FBR & MCR (look under cut for all the characters)
Word Count: ~7,500
Pairing: Brendon/Spencer (other pairings listed under the cut)
Summary: It’s not like they were doing anything dangerous. It really wasn’t dangerous at all, and for one of Brendon’s plans, that was pretty amazing. [future! fic]
Notes: Enjoy! ^^
It wasn’t that Gerard was particularly fond of Pete, or Brendon, for that matter, it’s just that he hadn’t been expecting it, and Ryan was there, so it wasn’t as if he could actually say no.
-
This is how it started:
Pete wasn’t a morning person. He wasn’t exactly a night person, either, though he usually didn’t mind staying up late and hanging out with people at the clubs, and he did kind of like reading Ryan’s livejournal and commenting anonymously about how sexy his ass was. But, the point was: Pete wasn’t a morning person, and even when he wasn’t a night person either, being woken in that square of time between late night and early morning wasn’t something he appreciated.
He wasn’t really in a bad mood, and he didn’t actually mind the call, especially since it was Brendon, and he couldn’t easily get mad at Brendon because Brendon was just .. Brendon. Being mad at Brendon Urie took a lot of energy out of everyone except Ryan Ross, who seemed to have been born with this evil gene that specialized in disliking anything and everything related to his band’s lead singer.
Pete thought Ryan was pretty fucking scary, so when Brendon called, Pete answered the phone.
He said, “Hello?”
Brendon rambled. He rambled a lot. All the fucking time. This was something Pete was used to. What he wasn’t used to was Brendon rambling in his ear at this time of night with this much energy.
He said, “Brendon.”
Brendon quieted down. In a small voice, he said, “I need you.”
Now, that was not something Pete was used to hearing, at least, not when he wasn’t sleeping with someone, and that hadn’t happened in a while, not since he broke up with Ashlee (he wasn’t sure how he’d actually spent so long with her. she was so fucking annoying).
Pete said, “Why don’t you call Patrick?”
-
He hadn’t actually expected Brendon to call Patrick after he’d hung up the phone and gone back to sleep. But, apparently, Brendon had called Patrick, along with Andy and Joe to make sure they all got the message. What surprised him even more than Brendon’s persistence, though, was that he was being dragged by the wrist out his own front door at 6:15 AM.
Patrick had one of Pete’s suitcases, filled to the top with mismatched clothes and unfolded messes, slung over one shoulder, and Hemingway’s leash in the other hand.
Pete said, “What?”
He really should have been expecting it - the call and the 7:45 flight to Vegas. He’d been spending too much time around William, anyway, and the kid’s freakishness was starting to rub off on him. Maybe the psychic abilities hadn’t sunk in yet.
Patrick said, “Brendon needs us.”
He said, “It’s an emergency.”
He said, “It’s important.”
Pete didn’t question it. He just ordered a coffee.
-
Jon picked them up from the airport in one of Ryan’s stolen cars. It was an old one - from way back during the time of their Sophomore Album. Ryan had like five cars now, anyway, not that he ever drove them. He spent most of his time at Spencer’s house, playing video games and writing songs and hoping he could hide out from Brendon just a little longer.
“Brendon was going to come pick you up,” Jon said, grinning at them in the rearview mirror. “But then he locked himself in Spencer’s room and he hasn’t come out since.” He shrugged and smiled like it was funny.
Pete didn’t think it was very funny. Hemingway really didn’t like airplanes.
“What’s wrong with him?” Patrick asked, sitting in the front seat like he was something special.
Jon shrugged and turned onto Spencer’s street. “There’s always something wrong with Brendon.”
-
Apparently, everyone was at Spencer’s house, and Spencer wasn’t very happy about that. “Make him happy so he’ll leave,” He said, frowning at them as they came through the front door. Ryan’s dogs all ran to greet Hemingway, and Pete said, “You go another?” Ryan just shrugged. He had more dogs than sane thoughts.
“Right, so,” Patrick said after they’d stashed all their bags in a guest room.
“He’s in my room,” Spencer said. “Don’t let him ruin anything.”
Pete shrugged and knocked on Spencer’s bedroom door. He said, “Brendon fucking Urie,” and there was scrambling on the other side of the door for a few seconds, then the door was swung open and Pete was pulled inside by the blur that was Brendon.
Brendon called, “Patrick too!” and when Patrick disappeared behind the door, wide-eyed, the door shut with a slam and everything was quiet.
Spencer said, “Well, damn.”
-
“What the fuck are they doing?” Ryan asked heatedly, pacing the room. Jon was stretched out, lying across the floor and taking up most of Ryan’s pacing space. Ryan glared at him.
Jon said, “What? I didn’t do anything.”
He wasn’t doing anything, technically, but he wasn’t trying to stop it (whatever it was, anyway), either. They weren’t touring right now, and they weren’t exactly writing either, so Jon didn’t see what the big deal was if Brendon wanted to have some weird sleepover with Pete and Patrick while stomping around in Spencer’s room and otherwise being very quiet.
(Normally, Brendon being very quiet was cause for concern, but Patrick and Pete were with him, so if Brendon tried to do something stupid, like, massacre everyone, Pete would probably scream, really high pitched and girly like Ryan maybe would, and Patrick would totally scream for help and warn them of danger.)
Ryan said, “This is crazy.”
Jon said, “This is Brendon.”
Spencer said, “Stop fighting. We don’t need anything else going on. Brendon is enough to deal with.” That was true, so Ryan and Jon both shut up. “Okay,” Spencer started. “So, I guess if we want to stop this, we need to know what’s going on.”
-
“So,” Pete said, bent over a piece of paper with Brendon lying next to him, both of them on the floor with their feet swinging up in the air behind them. “This. What?”
“It’s like,” Brendon pointed to a spot on the paper. “Kind of, we just. Uhm. Do you think it’s a good idea?”
“Well,” Patrick said.
Pete grinned and clapped Brendon on the shoulder. He said, “It’s just crazy enough to work!”
-
It’s not like they were doing anything dangerous. It really wasn’t dangerous at all, and for one of Brendon’s plans, that was pretty amazing. What they were doing was actually pretty safe and kind of cool if you tilted your head and squinted your eyes just right. Of course, that could have been that the squinting just made your brain hurt so you gave up and just accepted The Plan.
That’s what Brendon named it: The Plan.
It was The Plan and Ryan wasn’t allowed to know what it was because if he knew of The Plan, he would probably strangle Brendon and make him stop planning The Plan.
Pete liked calling it The Plan.
Ryan just got annoyed.
-
“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing.” Ryan hissed at them when they came into the room. He puffed up like a cat and if it had been anyone other than Ryan, it really wouldn’t have been scary at all because it wasn’t like he weighed anything at all (though he could throw a punch; Brendon learned that the hard way) but Ryan was mean, so.
“Calm down, Ross.” Pete said, grinning.
Ryan said, “I will kick you out of this house.”
“No you won’t. Just calm down,” Spencer said, coming into the room with four boxes of pizza. “They’ll get over whatever this is soon enough. You can’t kick them out, anyway.”
“Yeah, you don’t live here.” Brendon chimed in.
Ryan said, “Shut the fuck up,” and slouched in his chair.
“You don’t live here either,” Spencer reminded Brendon. “And I want my bed back, by the way.”
“I’ll share!” Brendon said excitedly, sitting up straight. Spencer rolled his eyes. Pete leaned over into Patrick’s space and whispered in his ear, “That was Brendon trying to get into Spencer’s pants.”
Patrick said, “I didn’t notice.”
-
They didn’t have anything to do during the day, anyway. They weren’t touring and there was no reason to go back to Chicago when they could just hang out here with Brendon and work on The Plan. Spencer didn’t really mind, anyway, and Jon was having a good time fighting Joe at Guitar Hero. Spencer said he was getting tired of listening to the Halo music all the time, so he was getting something out of this, too. Sort of.
Though, he wasn’t exactly happy about sharing his bed. Brendon was very clingy.
Ryan was mostly keeping quiet and hiding in the back yard, lounging by the pool, because his dogs didn’t like it when he was upset and Ryan was as protective of his dogs as a mother lion was of her cubs. Ryan was just as scary, too, so Spencer was letting him have his space.
“Hey, look,” Pete said when he emerged from Spencer’s bedroom around lunch time. He leaned against Spencer and grinned across the room at Jon. He said, “So, about The Plan,” he paused and waited for Spencer to do something like ask about The Plan as if he were interested. Spencer stayed silent. Pete continued. “Anyway, it’s like. Are you going to help us out, or are you on Ryan’s side?”
There was a long silence, one of paused video games and Jon staring wide-eyed and interested across the room at them. Joe and Andy had gone still, too, in the middle of their game of cards, waiting for an answer.
Spencer finally said, “So, it better be good.”
-
“You’re not serious.” Spencer said when he saw the walls of his bedroom, lined with papers and posters and oddly drawn graphs that looked like they were drawn more for the hell of it than for any particular reason.
“Spencer Smith,” Brendon said, walking over to them and leaning on Spencer, his nose pressing against Spencer’s neck. He was wearing one of Spencer’s hoodies. Spencer bit his lip. “This is The Plan. And you are now a part of it. Do you solemnly swear that you are up to no good and that you will not tell Ryan Ross?”
“What?” Spencer shifted away from them. “Are you - what? Have you been trying to read - ”
“Harry Potter, yes, whatever,” Pete said, “Now get to the point.”
Spencer sighed. “Alright, fine.”
“Say it,” Brendon pushed.
“I swear, okay?”
“Spencer,” Pete said. Spencer looked to Patrick for help, but Patrick just shrugged. He’d said it too, after much persuasion from the two five-year-olds he was apparently working with.
“Fine,” Spencer said, glaring. “I solemnly swear .. that I am up to no good.”
Brendon and Pete high-fived.
-
“So, uh, how are we supposed to do this, exactly?” Brendon asked, chewing lightly on the end of his purple gel pen.
“Well, I guess you’ll have to make a date,” Patrick said. “Like, when you want to do this.”
“I guess just, whenever we have everything planned out.” Brendon hummed thoughtfully.
“What? You can’t do that, can you?” Pete asked.
Brendon shrugged. “The streets are free, aren’t they?”
“Actually,” Patrick said, once again the voice of reason (like always, it seemed). “If you want to do it like it’s typically done, you’ll have to check with the city and the police and you’ll have to have streets blocked off and you’ll probably have to pay for a clean-up crew or something.”
“What, really?” Brendon asked, genuinely surprised.
Patrick sighed. This was going to be a long day.
-
“Jon,” Spencer said, pulling his jacket on and grabbing his keys from the coffee table. Jon ‘hmm’d. Spencer continued, “You’re watching the kids, okay? We’re going out for food. Don’t let them burn down the house.”
Jon said, “Okay.”
In the car, Ryan said, “Drive fast.”
-
So, Jon was a pretty good babysitter, considering. It wasn’t like Brendon and Pete were sneaking out of the room much, and Patrick was there to mostly keep them from doing stupid shit. The house itself looked fine when they pulled into the driveway. Everything was quiet and the TV was still bright through the front window, Jon still playing video games as usual.
Spencer said, “Well.”
Then, William Beckett opened the front door and greeted them with a friendly wave.
Ryan said, “Fuck.”
-
“Jon Walker, you said you’d watch them.” Ryan accused, pointing his finger menacingly down at Jon.
Jon ignored Ryan’s scary pointing finger. He said, “I did watch them. They’re very entertaining. Hey, Brendon, show them that dace you made - ”
“No, Brendon, we don’t want to see your fucking dance.” Ryan hissed through clenched teeth, glaring in Brendon’s general direction, but not right at him because then Ryan’s gaze might have, like, melted him to the floor or something, and they did kind of need Brendon for the band.
“Just so you know,” Jon said, “The call was made before you left, so.”
Ryan made an odd growling sound and stomped off to find his dogs.
Jon just shrugged.
-
Really, it wasn’t like they could be mad at William, either.
-
Except:
“Travis said he’ll be here tomorrow. He had some ‘business’ to attend to.” William just shrugged and continued filing his nails.
Spencer clasped a hand tightly on Ryan’s shoulder and said, “If you murder them, you will go to jail, and then you will never get to write songs or play guitar ever again.”
“You know what happens to boys like us in jail.” Brendon piped up. William murmured his agreement. Ryan thought there was maybe steam coming out of his ears. He stood up and left the room. Brendon just kept adding glitter to the paper.
-
“Okay, so, look,” Ryan said, exasperated. “Just. Whatever you’re doing. Can’t we just get back to work? This .. plan. It seriously isn’t important, is it?”
Brendon looked up from one of the posters he and William were making. “Of course it’s important!” He said. “This will be life-changing, Ryan Ross!”
Ryan said, “I hate you all.” and left the room.
“He’s not going to leave us alone about it, is he?” William asked.
Brendon shook his head.
-
Pete had an idea.
-
Pete’s ideas weren’t always great, and they weren’t always safe, either. But this. This was an amazing idea and he knew it. It was foolproof and would overpower the mastermind Ryan Ross, back him into a corner and make it so that he could never, ever come out. At least, not until The Plan was finished with.
Pete Wentz - he was pretty much incredible.
-
“Look, seriously, Brendon,” Ryan said. They’d been working on The Plan for six days now. Travis still hadn’t made it to Vegas, so it wasn’t like they were intimidating or anything. “You should just, stop this, okay? It isn’t. This is fucking stupid.”
Ryan was really getting tired of this.
Brendon frowned.
“Just, why don’t you stop with the .. this, whatever this is, and let’s start working on some new songs, okay?”
Ryan was really getting tired of this.
Pete said, “We’re just. It’ll be fun, Ross. Why don’t you just help us and then the planning will be over faster.” Pete’s grin was very fake.
Ryan should have known better.
He really should have known better.
Ryan said, “Fuck. This is just. This is insane.”
Pete said, “We aren’t bothering you.” He started pouting, just like Brendon. Ryan narrowed his eyes. Pete said, “I’ll call Gerard.”
Ryan froze.
-
Ryan froze.
-
His throat was dry. He said, “You wouldn’t.”
Pete waved his Sidekick around, grinning manically.
Ryan said, “Don’t.”
Pete just kept grinning.
-
Ryan didn’t have a problem with Gerard. He really, really didn’t. Everyone knew that. He didn’t have a problem with Gerard and, as far as he knew, Gerard liked him just fine. It was just - Ryan had listened to My Chemical Romance since he was sixteen years old, and, personally, he thinks that’s a long time. Gerard was just. He had the voice and the looks and the hips (and it’s not like Ryan was looking. he was the straight one in the band.) while Ryan was all sharp points and odd angles.
So, it wasn’t like Ryan hated Gerard or anything.
It was kind of more like hero worship, and Ryan wouldn’t stay in the same room with him for more than two seconds.
Gerard - well, he just thought Ryan was fun to mess with.
-
Spencer’s just upset because there are so many people in his house. “Fourteen,” he said, mostly to the empty room and Jon, because Ryan is hiding somewhere and he doesn’t think Ryan is going to come out anytime soon. “There are fourteen people in my house. I have three bedrooms, Jon.” Apparently, Spencer had been spending too much time around Ryan because he started pacing the room.
Bob eyed him suspiciously from across the room, quiet and nearly invisible in his black jacket that he’d just refused to take off when everyone piled into the house. He’d freaked out until Jon put him camera away, safely tucked in the kitchen atop the refrigerator where Brendon would not find it and take over Jon’s expensive film. For that, Jon Walker would maybe kill Brendon Urie.
But, possibly not.
Jon was just awesome like that.
Ray walked into the room and sat down by Bob, slinging an arm around his shoulders and grinning a very Jon Walker-ish grin. “Dude,” he said. “Chill. Spencer doesn’t bite.”
Spencer paused long enough to glance over at them and sort of half-nod and maybe kind of smile in their direction.
“My point is,” Spencer said, “I’m not paying for the food.”
-
Gerard was nice. He was nice and easy to be around, other than the whole worship thing, and Ryan liked Gerard. He liked Gerard a lot. He just wasn’t sure about being in the same room as Gerard, which was understandable, given the situation. Frankie - well, he was just creepy.
-
It was around ten that night when Ryan came out of hiding. Mikey sat quietly in the corner of the room with a book and a cup of coffee. Gerard was. Somewhere. Ray, Jon, and Bob were playing video games. Bob kept looking around, making sure no one had a camera. Andy and Joe had disappeared to somewhere with food, which made Spencer quite happy.
Ryan put a hand on his hip and said, “Spence, there are fourteen people in your house and three beds.”
Spencer said, “Well.”
“I’m going to leave,” Ryan said. He didn’t sound like he wanted to. Spencer knew what he was doing, anyway. This was Ryan’s way of trying to get Spencer to kick people out. Spencer actually liked having company - a lot. He just didn’t like cooking anything other than waffles, so it wasn’t like he was going to have an easy time feeding everyone.
“Take some people with you.” Pete said as he entered the room, carrying a few sheets of poster board. Brendon trailed behind him with multiple boxes of markers. Patrick and William filed in after them. Frankie and Gerard were, thankfully, still somewhere else. “We need more space, so you can take anyone you want. But not Jon Walker. He’s cool.” Mikey looked up, raising an eyebrow. “And, okay, you can leave Mikey, too. Gerard might get sad if you kidnap him.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Ryan said stubbornly, seeming to suddenly change his mind.
Spencer’s lips twitched at the corners.
Pete and Brendon were drawing something that looked sort of like a bear with a long tail and - like, twelve arms. Or something. Spencer rolled his eyes at them. William and Patrick were deciding on colors. Patrick smiled sheepishly up at Spencer. He’d been one of The Chosen Ones. He couldn’t leave or they’d have to, like, kill him or something since he knew their secret.
William was sort of almost scary. In a cute, fluffy, tall kind of way.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Ryan jumped, startled, and Spencer had to bite his lip to keep quiet. Ryan’s obsession with Gerard was just plain weird. Of course, a lot of Ryan Ross Things were weird, so.
Ryan said, “Uhm.”
Frank was peering over Gerard’s shoulder, grinning as he watched William fill in part of the weird shape thing.
Gerard looked at Ryan and said, “Hey.”
Ryan fled the room.
Spencer said, “You’re so mean to him.”
Gerard shrugged. “He’s just fun to mess with.”
-
Spencer woke the next morning with Brendon’s nose pressed against his neck, his arms wrapped tightly around Spencer’s waist. He took a few deeps breaths, wondering how he even made it through the night. Surely he should have suffocated by now.
Pete and William were sprawled across the floor, having just passed out there around midnight. Being idiots was really hard work. Patrick was on the floor, too, though he’d actually taken the sleeping bag Spencer had offered him. Pete had migrated towards the warmth during the night and was now lying half across Patrick. Patrick didn’t seem to notice.
Brendon suddenly murmured, “Breakfast?”
Spencer thought, Yeah, breakfast.
-
Breakfast was, apparently, a huge ordeal. Mostly the coffee, but Spencer’s waffles were quite a hit, too, and Spencer wasn’t quite sure who, but someone had gone and picked up three dozen doughnuts. With Brendon in the house, that was a big mistake. Other than Spencer, no one seemed to care about that small issue. In fact, Pete and William seemed to be shoving them down Brendon’s throat as fast as he could chew.
Spencer thought seriously about locking everyone outside and taking a nap in front of the TV.
His poor coffee maker was being emptied and refilled as fast as it could work. Apparently, Mikey would wander around in this zombie-like stage until Gerard fed him three cups of coffee. Spencer thought that was pretty weird. Jon was having a good time, though, and was wearing a paper hat from the doughnut place and serving coffee like he was at Starbucks again.
Everyone seemed to be enjoying that.
Frankie sidled up to Spencer and said, “You’re making waffles.” He had this weird smirk on his face and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was being a smartass or if he was asking for a plateful. Gerard came up behind them and said, “Hey.” Frank backed off a little and Spencer kept his eyes on the waffle maker.
Brendon yelled, “Who wants a doughnut?” and Frank darted off.
Spencer eyed him and Gerard just shrugged.
Across the room, next to Brendon, William yelled, “Double shot, Walker!”
Spencer groaned. “I am so going to die.” Gerard just patted his shoulder and said, “Sorry, Smith.”
-
Ryan arrived at Spencer’s house around noon with his dogs, only after calling Spencer and ‘inconspicuously’ figuring out where everyone in the house was. Spencer knew better than to think Ryan was just being curious. He knew about Ryan’s weird thing with Gerard. How Ryan didn’t know what he knew, well. Spencer wasn’t sure if Ryan was just hoping to hide it or if he was just too focused on Gerard to notice anything else.
What Spencer hadn’t told him was that Brendon had officially claimed the living room while Spencer was still on the phone with Ryan, saying their goodbyes. Ryan hadn’t asked, so Spencer didn’t tell. When Ryan and his dogs came through the front door, Ryan immediately froze. Gerard was sitting on the sofa next to Mikey, while Frank was on his hands and knees on the floor, pointing things out on what looked like a badly drawn map of the surrounding area.
Ryan’s heart decided to take a break and stop beating for half a second when he saw that there was another addition to Spencer’s House Of People He Really Didn’t Want Around But Wasn’t Kicking Out Anyway, sitting between Brendon and William, grinning evilly down at the map. He tried to back towards the door, but it was too late.
“Ryan!” She jumped up and ran across the room, jumping at him and hugging him around the neck. “I missed you!” She grinned manically.
“Hayley,” He said faintly, forcing a smile. He glanced over at Spencer, but Spence just shrugged.
“Are you going to come help us?” She asked, bouncing on her feet and holding onto his arm like it would save her life. He glanced around the room for a way out. Gerard was staring at him, smirking, just like everyone else. The room had gone quiet except for whispers between Brendon and Pete.
He said, “Uhm.”
“Ryan doesn’t support The Plan.” Brendon told her from across the room.
Hayley’s face fell.
She said, “You ass!” and ran back over to the circle that had formed around the poster board. Brendon snickered, looking up at Ryan through his bangs. Ryan glared at him and then at Pete when he looked up. Ryan looked over at Spencer and when Spencer didn’t meet his eyes (his head was down, hair covering his face, and Ryan just knew he was trying not to laugh) he left the room.
Frank looked up at Gerard and then at Spencer, his gaze piercing, and he said, “I’ll go talk to him.” and walked out of the room.
It was silent until Hayley said, “Can we color the trees orange?”
-
Frankie poked his head into the room and he was right - Ryan was hiding in Spencer’s room, sitting on the bed with his sidekick in his hands, turning it in his hands because he had nothing to do, no one to text (everyone he would normally text was in the living room, crowded around The Plan when really, no one knew what The Plan was, other than something Brendon had idiotically put together with that idiotic brain of his, so it wasn’t like he could text Jon or Spencer, because then everyone would know).
Frank said, “Uhm, hey.”
Ryan looked up, startled. He didn’t say anything because he hadn’t exactly spoken to Frank because he was always hanging on Gerard.
Frankie said, “So, uhm. Why don’t you like, approve of what they’re doing?” He shifted on his feet, staring at the ground, then glancing quickly at Ryan through his hair. Ryan didn’t exactly disapprove, it’s just that Brendon was an idiot and his ideas were stupid and, really, he just wants to start writing again when all Brendon wants to do is work on this shitty Plan and it’s not like Jon or Spencer are helping.
He said, “Brendon’s an idiot.”
Frank said, “Oh, well,” He grinned to himself, pulling idly at the fingerless gloves on his hands. “I knew that.” He glanced up at Ryan, eyes shining, teeth bared in that weird grin he had. Ryan swallowed and looked down at his hands.
“Then you should know why,” Ryan stated quietly. Frank shrugged and then it was silent, neither of them actually having anything to say. Ryan flipped his Sidekick open, then closed, open then closed, twisting it between his fingers. Frankie sighed and then Ryan blurted out, “Are you sleeping with Gerard?”
He didn’t mean to say it, but he’d been wondering it, and awkward silences did that to him.
Frankie flushed pink and didn’t say anything - he didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no. He looked up at Ryan and finally said, “Uhm, I’m.” and left the room.
-
It wasn’t that Brendon was an idiot - that wasn’t the reason for his plan being stupidly idiotic, it was just weird because he was Brendon - it was just that the idea in general wasn’t exactly. Usual. It really didn’t start like that, with a phone call. It actually started a few hours prior to that, with Brendon and his laptop in the late night hours, sitting at Spencer’s house after a night of movies.
He’d stumbled upon a site run by some people from ‘the deep south’ on the Gulf Coast, and he was interested because that’s how his brain worked. It wasn’t that he wanted to get the idea, it had just popped into his head while he looked at some brightly colored pictures and stared in awe at the screen because, sure, he had Vegas, but this place. This place had more.
He’d been to New Orleans before, yes, but never during the right season. He hadn’t really paid attention when they’d gone around town, the French Quarter, poking into shops and looking at masks that made Ryan’s eyes sparkle like Brendon’s did. He didn’t pay attention to the big details when the time called for it, and usually focused on the small things like the Alligator Heads and the Penny Press Machines on every corner.
Brendon had spotted the beads, sure, everyone had, but it hadn’t hit him until he’d seen the pictures - the pictures of live action, the air colored in greens and purples and golds. It hadn’t hit him until the words popped out at him on the page in their bold print.
He’s sprinted to Spencer’s room and shaken him awake, barely, just enough that his eyes had been open and he’d said, “Spence - hey, Spencer, what do you know about Mardi Gras?”
Spencer had rolled over and gone back to sleep.
Brendon had called Pete.
-
Frank slid into the spot between Mikey and Gerard on the sofa. Brendon was being loud, louder than ever, really, and even Spencer was listening, leaning forward the tiniest bit so he could hear better, not that the entire neighborhood couldn’t hear Brendon’s speech. Hayley was nodding along, excited, pointing things out between Brendon’s sentences, and it was like this was the biggest thing that had ever happened to any of them.
Pete and William were finishing the map while Brendon talked and it was looking good - great, even, compared to the grey and white lines it had formerly been. But when it came time for Brendon to point things out on the map, he suddenly went quiet and said, “And that’s where it ends. We don’t have the streets, so.”
Spencer said, “Well, why don’t you just make it a party?”
And Brendon looked like he could have kissed him.
-
It was a thing, now, and not just The Plan. It was The Plan That Actually Has A Plot, but everyone still called it The Plan because that was just easier to say. They still had to work on where to have it (“Not my back yard, Brendon. Don’t even think about it. My yard might be big, but it’s not that big.”) and how to set it up, exactly, but it was looking good and Andy, Joe, and Bob were helping Pete put together a list of food.
Brendon had even run up the stairs two at a time and told Ryan everything in a rushed voice, and Ryan didn’t approve, not at all, but if Ryan approved then it wouldn’t exactly be any fun, anyway, so. After, Ryan did come downstairs and join them, but he kept his distance and every time he spotted Gerard, he bolted to another room.
“You’re going to have to get over it eventually.” Spencer told him. He just shrugged.
They didn’t hear the front door open until a voice carried through the house.
“Hey, Brendon!” Everything was quiet, and Brendon looked excited already, dropped his pen and everything. “When was the last time your dick got sucked through the window?” Brendon bolted, and everyone followed. By the time they got there, Brendon had already attached himself to her like a fifth limb and she was grinning, hugging Brendon back.
Spencer said, “Not another one,”
Greta, of course, had a soft spot for the Panic boys and sought each of them out in the small crowd, attaching herself to Ryan for an extra long time.
“So,” she said, still grinning, still happy, but her hands were on her hips and she was looking at everyone, searching them. “Whose idea was it to have a party without me?”
-
Ray and Jon were huddled around Jon’s computer and camera, clicking around Photoshop and searching through Ryan’s weird fonts that he’d downloaded for all the albums and most of them were Ryan Ross Copyrights, designed by Ryan himself. Which was exactly why they should use the fonts and not let them go to waste, even if they weren’t being used on album covers like they were meant to be.
They decided that one of the local parks would be a good choice for the party - this weird, totally Un-Vegas party, but a party nonetheless. Ryan still wasn’t happy about everyone being in Spencer’s house, and he especially wasn’t happy about having to drive his dogs back and forth to his condo every night just because there was no place to sleep.
Mikey, leering from across the table, had offered to share his half of the sofa. Ryan choked on his bagel and walked away. Brendon finally told Ryan that, if it would make him happy, they could all wear the masks that Ryan liked, the ones from the But It’s Better If You Do video, and after that, Ryan seemed a little less unhappy, but he still paced the room and ranted to Spencer about wasting money on something stupid like this (Spencer didn’t point out that each of Ryan’s dogs had a different bowl for each day of the week) and he didn’t even notice when Gerard walked into the room.
“Hey,” Gerard said, close enough to wrap his arms around Ryan’s waist and pull him in enough just to freak him out. Ryan went stiff in his grip and Spencer buried his face in his hands and laughed. Brendon looked up from his spot at the kitchen table and smiled at Spencer, eyes bright and he was happy and when Gerard let Ryan go, Ryan still sprinted, but Spencer’s smile was brighter and Brendon’s heart was maybe beating a little faster.
Patrick and Pete appeared later, and it wasn’t like their disappearing had gone unnoticed. Pete leaned over Jon’s shoulder and pointed out matching masks on the website for him and Patrick, and Patrick didn’t say anything, just sat back and started a conversation with Bob.
Greta and Hayley poured over book after book, looking at outfits and comparing jackets with masks and colors in ties to feathers on boas. Gerard just requested that his band be in all black, while Frankie leaned across the table and flipped through the book to the gloves, pointing out multiple pairs that he would deem appropriate. There was a pause and then Greta attacked Frankie, hugging him around the neck and saying, “You’re so cute!”
Frankie just went still, then flushed and grinned up at Gerard.
Brendon pulled Spencer to where Jon and Ray were sitting, and said, “Okay, so. Guest list.”
Jon grinned. “Okay, throw `em at me.” Brendon thought, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, one finger on his chin, his head tilted just enough that it was perfectly funny. Brendon named off everyone in the house, not including Ryan’s dog (“Ryan needs to stop being so anti-social. He should learn to be a people-person.”) and then he named off almost everyone in the entire Fueled By Ramen industry.
He suddenly paused and actually looked thoughtful for a few seconds, then he said, “Jack Marin!” Spencer went quiet, face pressed against Brendon’s shoulder to keep from either laughing or making a face. He liked Jack Marin, yes, they were all friends, but Jeffree Star sort of had a big mouth, and there were enough videos on Buzznet about Jack’s dick as it was, so Spencer wasn’t sure he’d actually be able to face Jack without either laughing or getting sick.
Spencer changed the subject.
-
Brendon set a date and after that, Ryan thought it would maybe be a little calmer since there weren’t as many things to do. The costumes were ordered and Brendon’s millions of beads were ordered and Ryan was sure they could relax some, maybe write a song or two or maybe pick up some instruments. But, after Brendon set the date, the house was never quiet again.
-
It was never quiet, not even late at night, because after the lights went out, there was still whispering, quiet breathing and soft secrets.
-
“Spencer?” Brendon whispered into the darkness. Pete and Patrick and William were in the room, sleeping, on the floor with sleeping bags open and spread between them, covered in blankets that mostly came from Spencer’s mom when she heard what was going on, heard that Brendon had decided to throw a party and needed Spencer’s help. Spencer had almost been asleep, listening to the even breathing of the three on the floor below them, silent enough to hear that there were no other voices in the house.
Everyone was sleeping.
Spencer whispered back, “Yeah?”
Brendon was silent for a second, listening as Pete shifted. “Are you awake?”
Spencer shrugged, said, “Maybe.”
Brendon was silent then, and Spencer knew he had something on his mind, because Brendon was rarely quiet - usually reserved the quiet moment for when he had something to really worry about on his mind. He finally said, “Is this a bad idea?”
Spencer wasn’t sure what to say, because yes, it had been a bad idea from the start, and it was tiring and there were tons of people in his house and the only one of them he’d actually invited over was Ryan (and Jon, but Jon always stayed with him when they were writing. that’s just how things were.) and Ryan’s dogs were running around his backyard, making an oval-shaped track in the grass that didn’t exactly look all that appealing.
But overall, Spencer was happy, excited that everyone was staying with him and wanted to stay with him, and everyone was so funny, and maybe a little creepy sometimes (he still wasn’t sure about Frank) and. And, he really doesn’t mind now.
Brendon said, “I’ve been bothering you a lot.”
His voice is thick, and Brendon’s really worried about this, worried about the booklets spread across Spencer’s dining room table and the video games all over the floor and the poster boards tacked to Spencer’s walls - from his bedroom to the kitchen.
Brendon said, “I’m sorry.”
Spencer didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how.
Brendon said, “I’ll leave tomorrow.”
And really, Spencer had never been able to tell Brendon no.
-
Spencer was the kind of person who woke up scared in the middle of the night, heart racing and fingers cold, but then he couldn’t remember what the dream was about, couldn’t remember why he felt like he should be running. Wasn’t sure what he was running from.
He didn’t usually remember his dreams unless they were the important ones - the important ones that scared the shit out of him and made his heart race and his mind wild; the ones that made him search the room for something familiar, something that hadn’t been there, something that had always been there.
He remembered dreams from when he was just a kid, dreams about Ryan running away from home and Ryan with tears running down his face, fingers clenched in Spencer’s shirt, Ryan with bruises high on his cheek bones and Ryan with nothing left to say.
Spencer remembered this dream, though.
He remembered Brendon. Brendon and there were tears in this dream, too, but he couldn’t tell who they belonged to, not that it really mattered because Brendon was leaving. Brendon was leaving and Spencer was just standing there, letting him go. Spencer just couldn’t tell Brendon, “No.”
-
He woke up when Brendon slipped out of bed, out from underneath his arm, out of his grip. Brendon didn’t look at him, just quietly made his way across the room (Pete and Patrick and Bill were still sleeping, a tangled mess on the floor, William all long limbs and Pete holding onto as much as he could, keeping them close) and out the door.
It took him a minute to remember how to breathe, and when he did, it took him another second to stop and think about the dream. He heard Brendon at the bottom of the stairs and bolted.
-
“Don’t go,” he breathed, hot in Brendon’s ear, fingers clasped in the fabric of Brendon’s shirt, holding him tight, keeping him close. He had to catch his breath, not even awake yet and already running. Gerard sat up, groggy, and looked at them, eyes unfocused. Frank stirred but didn’t wake, pulled close next to Gerard, Ray on Gerard’s other side with Mikey and Bob on the sofa. Hayley and Greta had disappeared to Ryan’s house so they wouldn’t have to bother Spencer with breakfast, and Greta liked Ryan’s dogs, anyway.
(Spencer was sure Greta just like Ryan.)
Brendon looked away, looked at Gerard and looked at the floor and looked anywhere that wasn’t Spencer. He said, “Let go, Spence.”
“Bren, hey, don’t,” Spencer moved his grip from Brendon’s shirt to his wrist, pressing on the keys of the piano tattoo on his way down because he knew that made Brendon smile. “Don’t leave, okay? I don’t want you to.” He was already whispering and he tried to move them back into the hallway, closer to the stairs and farther from the prying eyes in the living room, but Brendon wouldn’t move, so Spencer had to work with what he had.
Brendon said, “I wasn’t thinking. I brought everyone into your house and. I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” Spencer’s voice was below a whisper now, just between him and Brendon, and Brendon had to lean in just to hear. “Did I ever tell you that I didn’t want you here?”
Brendon had to stop and think about that because no, Spencer hadn’t ever actually said that.
He said, “I don’t want to leave.”
Spencer said, “I don’t want you do.”
Brendon turned, fingers gripping Spencer’s shirt and pulling him closer, pressing his face into Spencer’s neck and staying there. Spencer pulled him close, one arm wrapped securely around his waist, the other in Brendon’s hair, keeping him where he was. Brendon said, “I’m sorry.”
Spencer said, “I know. It’s okay. I’m not mad.”
They stayed there, Brendon holding onto Spencer and not letting go, Spencer almost rocking them, though really, that was more out of exhaustion than anything. When Brendon finally sniffled and pulled back, eyes almost dry but not quite, he gave Spencer a weak smile and said, “Can I help you make breakfast?”
Spencer said, “Of course.”
-
It wasn’t huge - the party. Brendon mostly stood in the corner, looking down at the mask in his hands and wondering why he’d even wanted this in the first place. Out of everyone, Ryan seemed to be having the best time, though if anyone said anything, he’d immediately go pout on the other side of the park for five minutes.
Bob was feeling quite distressed, seeing as how the media had showed up, amazed at the size of the party and the gathering of all the bands in one place (which was pretty much a jackpot for any photographer).
“Hey,” Spencer said, coming up beside him. Brendon tilted his head in greeting, almost smiling, his lips twitching at the corners.
Brendon said, “Everyone’s leaving tonight.” He added, “I’m leaving tonight.”
“Why?” Spencer asked, eyes bright, leaning just enough to bump his shoulder with Brendon’s, forcing a smile.
“Because the party’s over. Everyone’s going home.” He shrugged and stared at the mask he was still holding. He hadn’t actually put it on yet. Spencer held his own mask in his hands, having taken it off when he came up beside Brendon.
“Well,” Spencer said slowly, “That doesn’t mean you have to leave. I’ll be kind of lonely without the house full.”
Brendon didn’t look up at him, but his mouth twitched into a frown and Spencer knew he was resisting. (Spencer liked knowing that he knew so many things about Brendon). “You’ll have Ryan,” Brendon pointed out. “And you’ll have Jon, too.”
“Ryan isn’t company,” Spencer said, “And Jon’s just there to use my TV for his video games. He doesn’t actually talk or move or get annoying or anything.”
A grin spread across Brendon’s face, finally; he’d been waiting. He looked up at Spencer and said, “I won’t leave if you won’t take my half of the bed.”
Spencer said, “It’s a deal.”
Author: fatal_overdose
Rating: Light R
Fandom: FBR & MCR (look under cut for all the characters)
Word Count: ~7,500
Pairing: Brendon/Spencer (other pairings listed under the cut)
Summary: It’s not like they were doing anything dangerous. It really wasn’t dangerous at all, and for one of Brendon’s plans, that was pretty amazing. [future! fic]
Notes: Enjoy! ^^
It wasn’t that Gerard was particularly fond of Pete, or Brendon, for that matter, it’s just that he hadn’t been expecting it, and Ryan was there, so it wasn’t as if he could actually say no.
-
This is how it started:
Pete wasn’t a morning person. He wasn’t exactly a night person, either, though he usually didn’t mind staying up late and hanging out with people at the clubs, and he did kind of like reading Ryan’s livejournal and commenting anonymously about how sexy his ass was. But, the point was: Pete wasn’t a morning person, and even when he wasn’t a night person either, being woken in that square of time between late night and early morning wasn’t something he appreciated.
He wasn’t really in a bad mood, and he didn’t actually mind the call, especially since it was Brendon, and he couldn’t easily get mad at Brendon because Brendon was just .. Brendon. Being mad at Brendon Urie took a lot of energy out of everyone except Ryan Ross, who seemed to have been born with this evil gene that specialized in disliking anything and everything related to his band’s lead singer.
Pete thought Ryan was pretty fucking scary, so when Brendon called, Pete answered the phone.
He said, “Hello?”
Brendon rambled. He rambled a lot. All the fucking time. This was something Pete was used to. What he wasn’t used to was Brendon rambling in his ear at this time of night with this much energy.
He said, “Brendon.”
Brendon quieted down. In a small voice, he said, “I need you.”
Now, that was not something Pete was used to hearing, at least, not when he wasn’t sleeping with someone, and that hadn’t happened in a while, not since he broke up with Ashlee (he wasn’t sure how he’d actually spent so long with her. she was so fucking annoying).
Pete said, “Why don’t you call Patrick?”
-
He hadn’t actually expected Brendon to call Patrick after he’d hung up the phone and gone back to sleep. But, apparently, Brendon had called Patrick, along with Andy and Joe to make sure they all got the message. What surprised him even more than Brendon’s persistence, though, was that he was being dragged by the wrist out his own front door at 6:15 AM.
Patrick had one of Pete’s suitcases, filled to the top with mismatched clothes and unfolded messes, slung over one shoulder, and Hemingway’s leash in the other hand.
Pete said, “What?”
He really should have been expecting it - the call and the 7:45 flight to Vegas. He’d been spending too much time around William, anyway, and the kid’s freakishness was starting to rub off on him. Maybe the psychic abilities hadn’t sunk in yet.
Patrick said, “Brendon needs us.”
He said, “It’s an emergency.”
He said, “It’s important.”
Pete didn’t question it. He just ordered a coffee.
-
Jon picked them up from the airport in one of Ryan’s stolen cars. It was an old one - from way back during the time of their Sophomore Album. Ryan had like five cars now, anyway, not that he ever drove them. He spent most of his time at Spencer’s house, playing video games and writing songs and hoping he could hide out from Brendon just a little longer.
“Brendon was going to come pick you up,” Jon said, grinning at them in the rearview mirror. “But then he locked himself in Spencer’s room and he hasn’t come out since.” He shrugged and smiled like it was funny.
Pete didn’t think it was very funny. Hemingway really didn’t like airplanes.
“What’s wrong with him?” Patrick asked, sitting in the front seat like he was something special.
Jon shrugged and turned onto Spencer’s street. “There’s always something wrong with Brendon.”
-
Apparently, everyone was at Spencer’s house, and Spencer wasn’t very happy about that. “Make him happy so he’ll leave,” He said, frowning at them as they came through the front door. Ryan’s dogs all ran to greet Hemingway, and Pete said, “You go another?” Ryan just shrugged. He had more dogs than sane thoughts.
“Right, so,” Patrick said after they’d stashed all their bags in a guest room.
“He’s in my room,” Spencer said. “Don’t let him ruin anything.”
Pete shrugged and knocked on Spencer’s bedroom door. He said, “Brendon fucking Urie,” and there was scrambling on the other side of the door for a few seconds, then the door was swung open and Pete was pulled inside by the blur that was Brendon.
Brendon called, “Patrick too!” and when Patrick disappeared behind the door, wide-eyed, the door shut with a slam and everything was quiet.
Spencer said, “Well, damn.”
-
“What the fuck are they doing?” Ryan asked heatedly, pacing the room. Jon was stretched out, lying across the floor and taking up most of Ryan’s pacing space. Ryan glared at him.
Jon said, “What? I didn’t do anything.”
He wasn’t doing anything, technically, but he wasn’t trying to stop it (whatever it was, anyway), either. They weren’t touring right now, and they weren’t exactly writing either, so Jon didn’t see what the big deal was if Brendon wanted to have some weird sleepover with Pete and Patrick while stomping around in Spencer’s room and otherwise being very quiet.
(Normally, Brendon being very quiet was cause for concern, but Patrick and Pete were with him, so if Brendon tried to do something stupid, like, massacre everyone, Pete would probably scream, really high pitched and girly like Ryan maybe would, and Patrick would totally scream for help and warn them of danger.)
Ryan said, “This is crazy.”
Jon said, “This is Brendon.”
Spencer said, “Stop fighting. We don’t need anything else going on. Brendon is enough to deal with.” That was true, so Ryan and Jon both shut up. “Okay,” Spencer started. “So, I guess if we want to stop this, we need to know what’s going on.”
-
“So,” Pete said, bent over a piece of paper with Brendon lying next to him, both of them on the floor with their feet swinging up in the air behind them. “This. What?”
“It’s like,” Brendon pointed to a spot on the paper. “Kind of, we just. Uhm. Do you think it’s a good idea?”
“Well,” Patrick said.
Pete grinned and clapped Brendon on the shoulder. He said, “It’s just crazy enough to work!”
-
It’s not like they were doing anything dangerous. It really wasn’t dangerous at all, and for one of Brendon’s plans, that was pretty amazing. What they were doing was actually pretty safe and kind of cool if you tilted your head and squinted your eyes just right. Of course, that could have been that the squinting just made your brain hurt so you gave up and just accepted The Plan.
That’s what Brendon named it: The Plan.
It was The Plan and Ryan wasn’t allowed to know what it was because if he knew of The Plan, he would probably strangle Brendon and make him stop planning The Plan.
Pete liked calling it The Plan.
Ryan just got annoyed.
-
“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing.” Ryan hissed at them when they came into the room. He puffed up like a cat and if it had been anyone other than Ryan, it really wouldn’t have been scary at all because it wasn’t like he weighed anything at all (though he could throw a punch; Brendon learned that the hard way) but Ryan was mean, so.
“Calm down, Ross.” Pete said, grinning.
Ryan said, “I will kick you out of this house.”
“No you won’t. Just calm down,” Spencer said, coming into the room with four boxes of pizza. “They’ll get over whatever this is soon enough. You can’t kick them out, anyway.”
“Yeah, you don’t live here.” Brendon chimed in.
Ryan said, “Shut the fuck up,” and slouched in his chair.
“You don’t live here either,” Spencer reminded Brendon. “And I want my bed back, by the way.”
“I’ll share!” Brendon said excitedly, sitting up straight. Spencer rolled his eyes. Pete leaned over into Patrick’s space and whispered in his ear, “That was Brendon trying to get into Spencer’s pants.”
Patrick said, “I didn’t notice.”
-
They didn’t have anything to do during the day, anyway. They weren’t touring and there was no reason to go back to Chicago when they could just hang out here with Brendon and work on The Plan. Spencer didn’t really mind, anyway, and Jon was having a good time fighting Joe at Guitar Hero. Spencer said he was getting tired of listening to the Halo music all the time, so he was getting something out of this, too. Sort of.
Though, he wasn’t exactly happy about sharing his bed. Brendon was very clingy.
Ryan was mostly keeping quiet and hiding in the back yard, lounging by the pool, because his dogs didn’t like it when he was upset and Ryan was as protective of his dogs as a mother lion was of her cubs. Ryan was just as scary, too, so Spencer was letting him have his space.
“Hey, look,” Pete said when he emerged from Spencer’s bedroom around lunch time. He leaned against Spencer and grinned across the room at Jon. He said, “So, about The Plan,” he paused and waited for Spencer to do something like ask about The Plan as if he were interested. Spencer stayed silent. Pete continued. “Anyway, it’s like. Are you going to help us out, or are you on Ryan’s side?”
There was a long silence, one of paused video games and Jon staring wide-eyed and interested across the room at them. Joe and Andy had gone still, too, in the middle of their game of cards, waiting for an answer.
Spencer finally said, “So, it better be good.”
-
“You’re not serious.” Spencer said when he saw the walls of his bedroom, lined with papers and posters and oddly drawn graphs that looked like they were drawn more for the hell of it than for any particular reason.
“Spencer Smith,” Brendon said, walking over to them and leaning on Spencer, his nose pressing against Spencer’s neck. He was wearing one of Spencer’s hoodies. Spencer bit his lip. “This is The Plan. And you are now a part of it. Do you solemnly swear that you are up to no good and that you will not tell Ryan Ross?”
“What?” Spencer shifted away from them. “Are you - what? Have you been trying to read - ”
“Harry Potter, yes, whatever,” Pete said, “Now get to the point.”
Spencer sighed. “Alright, fine.”
“Say it,” Brendon pushed.
“I swear, okay?”
“Spencer,” Pete said. Spencer looked to Patrick for help, but Patrick just shrugged. He’d said it too, after much persuasion from the two five-year-olds he was apparently working with.
“Fine,” Spencer said, glaring. “I solemnly swear .. that I am up to no good.”
Brendon and Pete high-fived.
-
“So, uh, how are we supposed to do this, exactly?” Brendon asked, chewing lightly on the end of his purple gel pen.
“Well, I guess you’ll have to make a date,” Patrick said. “Like, when you want to do this.”
“I guess just, whenever we have everything planned out.” Brendon hummed thoughtfully.
“What? You can’t do that, can you?” Pete asked.
Brendon shrugged. “The streets are free, aren’t they?”
“Actually,” Patrick said, once again the voice of reason (like always, it seemed). “If you want to do it like it’s typically done, you’ll have to check with the city and the police and you’ll have to have streets blocked off and you’ll probably have to pay for a clean-up crew or something.”
“What, really?” Brendon asked, genuinely surprised.
Patrick sighed. This was going to be a long day.
-
“Jon,” Spencer said, pulling his jacket on and grabbing his keys from the coffee table. Jon ‘hmm’d. Spencer continued, “You’re watching the kids, okay? We’re going out for food. Don’t let them burn down the house.”
Jon said, “Okay.”
In the car, Ryan said, “Drive fast.”
-
So, Jon was a pretty good babysitter, considering. It wasn’t like Brendon and Pete were sneaking out of the room much, and Patrick was there to mostly keep them from doing stupid shit. The house itself looked fine when they pulled into the driveway. Everything was quiet and the TV was still bright through the front window, Jon still playing video games as usual.
Spencer said, “Well.”
Then, William Beckett opened the front door and greeted them with a friendly wave.
Ryan said, “Fuck.”
-
“Jon Walker, you said you’d watch them.” Ryan accused, pointing his finger menacingly down at Jon.
Jon ignored Ryan’s scary pointing finger. He said, “I did watch them. They’re very entertaining. Hey, Brendon, show them that dace you made - ”
“No, Brendon, we don’t want to see your fucking dance.” Ryan hissed through clenched teeth, glaring in Brendon’s general direction, but not right at him because then Ryan’s gaze might have, like, melted him to the floor or something, and they did kind of need Brendon for the band.
“Just so you know,” Jon said, “The call was made before you left, so.”
Ryan made an odd growling sound and stomped off to find his dogs.
Jon just shrugged.
-
Really, it wasn’t like they could be mad at William, either.
-
Except:
“Travis said he’ll be here tomorrow. He had some ‘business’ to attend to.” William just shrugged and continued filing his nails.
Spencer clasped a hand tightly on Ryan’s shoulder and said, “If you murder them, you will go to jail, and then you will never get to write songs or play guitar ever again.”
“You know what happens to boys like us in jail.” Brendon piped up. William murmured his agreement. Ryan thought there was maybe steam coming out of his ears. He stood up and left the room. Brendon just kept adding glitter to the paper.
-
“Okay, so, look,” Ryan said, exasperated. “Just. Whatever you’re doing. Can’t we just get back to work? This .. plan. It seriously isn’t important, is it?”
Brendon looked up from one of the posters he and William were making. “Of course it’s important!” He said. “This will be life-changing, Ryan Ross!”
Ryan said, “I hate you all.” and left the room.
“He’s not going to leave us alone about it, is he?” William asked.
Brendon shook his head.
-
Pete had an idea.
-
Pete’s ideas weren’t always great, and they weren’t always safe, either. But this. This was an amazing idea and he knew it. It was foolproof and would overpower the mastermind Ryan Ross, back him into a corner and make it so that he could never, ever come out. At least, not until The Plan was finished with.
Pete Wentz - he was pretty much incredible.
-
“Look, seriously, Brendon,” Ryan said. They’d been working on The Plan for six days now. Travis still hadn’t made it to Vegas, so it wasn’t like they were intimidating or anything. “You should just, stop this, okay? It isn’t. This is fucking stupid.”
Ryan was really getting tired of this.
Brendon frowned.
“Just, why don’t you stop with the .. this, whatever this is, and let’s start working on some new songs, okay?”
Ryan was really getting tired of this.
Pete said, “We’re just. It’ll be fun, Ross. Why don’t you just help us and then the planning will be over faster.” Pete’s grin was very fake.
Ryan should have known better.
He really should have known better.
Ryan said, “Fuck. This is just. This is insane.”
Pete said, “We aren’t bothering you.” He started pouting, just like Brendon. Ryan narrowed his eyes. Pete said, “I’ll call Gerard.”
Ryan froze.
-
Ryan froze.
-
His throat was dry. He said, “You wouldn’t.”
Pete waved his Sidekick around, grinning manically.
Ryan said, “Don’t.”
Pete just kept grinning.
-
Ryan didn’t have a problem with Gerard. He really, really didn’t. Everyone knew that. He didn’t have a problem with Gerard and, as far as he knew, Gerard liked him just fine. It was just - Ryan had listened to My Chemical Romance since he was sixteen years old, and, personally, he thinks that’s a long time. Gerard was just. He had the voice and the looks and the hips (and it’s not like Ryan was looking. he was the straight one in the band.) while Ryan was all sharp points and odd angles.
So, it wasn’t like Ryan hated Gerard or anything.
It was kind of more like hero worship, and Ryan wouldn’t stay in the same room with him for more than two seconds.
Gerard - well, he just thought Ryan was fun to mess with.
-
Spencer’s just upset because there are so many people in his house. “Fourteen,” he said, mostly to the empty room and Jon, because Ryan is hiding somewhere and he doesn’t think Ryan is going to come out anytime soon. “There are fourteen people in my house. I have three bedrooms, Jon.” Apparently, Spencer had been spending too much time around Ryan because he started pacing the room.
Bob eyed him suspiciously from across the room, quiet and nearly invisible in his black jacket that he’d just refused to take off when everyone piled into the house. He’d freaked out until Jon put him camera away, safely tucked in the kitchen atop the refrigerator where Brendon would not find it and take over Jon’s expensive film. For that, Jon Walker would maybe kill Brendon Urie.
But, possibly not.
Jon was just awesome like that.
Ray walked into the room and sat down by Bob, slinging an arm around his shoulders and grinning a very Jon Walker-ish grin. “Dude,” he said. “Chill. Spencer doesn’t bite.”
Spencer paused long enough to glance over at them and sort of half-nod and maybe kind of smile in their direction.
“My point is,” Spencer said, “I’m not paying for the food.”
-
Gerard was nice. He was nice and easy to be around, other than the whole worship thing, and Ryan liked Gerard. He liked Gerard a lot. He just wasn’t sure about being in the same room as Gerard, which was understandable, given the situation. Frankie - well, he was just creepy.
-
It was around ten that night when Ryan came out of hiding. Mikey sat quietly in the corner of the room with a book and a cup of coffee. Gerard was. Somewhere. Ray, Jon, and Bob were playing video games. Bob kept looking around, making sure no one had a camera. Andy and Joe had disappeared to somewhere with food, which made Spencer quite happy.
Ryan put a hand on his hip and said, “Spence, there are fourteen people in your house and three beds.”
Spencer said, “Well.”
“I’m going to leave,” Ryan said. He didn’t sound like he wanted to. Spencer knew what he was doing, anyway. This was Ryan’s way of trying to get Spencer to kick people out. Spencer actually liked having company - a lot. He just didn’t like cooking anything other than waffles, so it wasn’t like he was going to have an easy time feeding everyone.
“Take some people with you.” Pete said as he entered the room, carrying a few sheets of poster board. Brendon trailed behind him with multiple boxes of markers. Patrick and William filed in after them. Frankie and Gerard were, thankfully, still somewhere else. “We need more space, so you can take anyone you want. But not Jon Walker. He’s cool.” Mikey looked up, raising an eyebrow. “And, okay, you can leave Mikey, too. Gerard might get sad if you kidnap him.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Ryan said stubbornly, seeming to suddenly change his mind.
Spencer’s lips twitched at the corners.
Pete and Brendon were drawing something that looked sort of like a bear with a long tail and - like, twelve arms. Or something. Spencer rolled his eyes at them. William and Patrick were deciding on colors. Patrick smiled sheepishly up at Spencer. He’d been one of The Chosen Ones. He couldn’t leave or they’d have to, like, kill him or something since he knew their secret.
William was sort of almost scary. In a cute, fluffy, tall kind of way.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Ryan jumped, startled, and Spencer had to bite his lip to keep quiet. Ryan’s obsession with Gerard was just plain weird. Of course, a lot of Ryan Ross Things were weird, so.
Ryan said, “Uhm.”
Frank was peering over Gerard’s shoulder, grinning as he watched William fill in part of the weird shape thing.
Gerard looked at Ryan and said, “Hey.”
Ryan fled the room.
Spencer said, “You’re so mean to him.”
Gerard shrugged. “He’s just fun to mess with.”
-
Spencer woke the next morning with Brendon’s nose pressed against his neck, his arms wrapped tightly around Spencer’s waist. He took a few deeps breaths, wondering how he even made it through the night. Surely he should have suffocated by now.
Pete and William were sprawled across the floor, having just passed out there around midnight. Being idiots was really hard work. Patrick was on the floor, too, though he’d actually taken the sleeping bag Spencer had offered him. Pete had migrated towards the warmth during the night and was now lying half across Patrick. Patrick didn’t seem to notice.
Brendon suddenly murmured, “Breakfast?”
Spencer thought, Yeah, breakfast.
-
Breakfast was, apparently, a huge ordeal. Mostly the coffee, but Spencer’s waffles were quite a hit, too, and Spencer wasn’t quite sure who, but someone had gone and picked up three dozen doughnuts. With Brendon in the house, that was a big mistake. Other than Spencer, no one seemed to care about that small issue. In fact, Pete and William seemed to be shoving them down Brendon’s throat as fast as he could chew.
Spencer thought seriously about locking everyone outside and taking a nap in front of the TV.
His poor coffee maker was being emptied and refilled as fast as it could work. Apparently, Mikey would wander around in this zombie-like stage until Gerard fed him three cups of coffee. Spencer thought that was pretty weird. Jon was having a good time, though, and was wearing a paper hat from the doughnut place and serving coffee like he was at Starbucks again.
Everyone seemed to be enjoying that.
Frankie sidled up to Spencer and said, “You’re making waffles.” He had this weird smirk on his face and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was being a smartass or if he was asking for a plateful. Gerard came up behind them and said, “Hey.” Frank backed off a little and Spencer kept his eyes on the waffle maker.
Brendon yelled, “Who wants a doughnut?” and Frank darted off.
Spencer eyed him and Gerard just shrugged.
Across the room, next to Brendon, William yelled, “Double shot, Walker!”
Spencer groaned. “I am so going to die.” Gerard just patted his shoulder and said, “Sorry, Smith.”
-
Ryan arrived at Spencer’s house around noon with his dogs, only after calling Spencer and ‘inconspicuously’ figuring out where everyone in the house was. Spencer knew better than to think Ryan was just being curious. He knew about Ryan’s weird thing with Gerard. How Ryan didn’t know what he knew, well. Spencer wasn’t sure if Ryan was just hoping to hide it or if he was just too focused on Gerard to notice anything else.
What Spencer hadn’t told him was that Brendon had officially claimed the living room while Spencer was still on the phone with Ryan, saying their goodbyes. Ryan hadn’t asked, so Spencer didn’t tell. When Ryan and his dogs came through the front door, Ryan immediately froze. Gerard was sitting on the sofa next to Mikey, while Frank was on his hands and knees on the floor, pointing things out on what looked like a badly drawn map of the surrounding area.
Ryan’s heart decided to take a break and stop beating for half a second when he saw that there was another addition to Spencer’s House Of People He Really Didn’t Want Around But Wasn’t Kicking Out Anyway, sitting between Brendon and William, grinning evilly down at the map. He tried to back towards the door, but it was too late.
“Ryan!” She jumped up and ran across the room, jumping at him and hugging him around the neck. “I missed you!” She grinned manically.
“Hayley,” He said faintly, forcing a smile. He glanced over at Spencer, but Spence just shrugged.
“Are you going to come help us?” She asked, bouncing on her feet and holding onto his arm like it would save her life. He glanced around the room for a way out. Gerard was staring at him, smirking, just like everyone else. The room had gone quiet except for whispers between Brendon and Pete.
He said, “Uhm.”
“Ryan doesn’t support The Plan.” Brendon told her from across the room.
Hayley’s face fell.
She said, “You ass!” and ran back over to the circle that had formed around the poster board. Brendon snickered, looking up at Ryan through his bangs. Ryan glared at him and then at Pete when he looked up. Ryan looked over at Spencer and when Spencer didn’t meet his eyes (his head was down, hair covering his face, and Ryan just knew he was trying not to laugh) he left the room.
Frank looked up at Gerard and then at Spencer, his gaze piercing, and he said, “I’ll go talk to him.” and walked out of the room.
It was silent until Hayley said, “Can we color the trees orange?”
-
Frankie poked his head into the room and he was right - Ryan was hiding in Spencer’s room, sitting on the bed with his sidekick in his hands, turning it in his hands because he had nothing to do, no one to text (everyone he would normally text was in the living room, crowded around The Plan when really, no one knew what The Plan was, other than something Brendon had idiotically put together with that idiotic brain of his, so it wasn’t like he could text Jon or Spencer, because then everyone would know).
Frank said, “Uhm, hey.”
Ryan looked up, startled. He didn’t say anything because he hadn’t exactly spoken to Frank because he was always hanging on Gerard.
Frankie said, “So, uhm. Why don’t you like, approve of what they’re doing?” He shifted on his feet, staring at the ground, then glancing quickly at Ryan through his hair. Ryan didn’t exactly disapprove, it’s just that Brendon was an idiot and his ideas were stupid and, really, he just wants to start writing again when all Brendon wants to do is work on this shitty Plan and it’s not like Jon or Spencer are helping.
He said, “Brendon’s an idiot.”
Frank said, “Oh, well,” He grinned to himself, pulling idly at the fingerless gloves on his hands. “I knew that.” He glanced up at Ryan, eyes shining, teeth bared in that weird grin he had. Ryan swallowed and looked down at his hands.
“Then you should know why,” Ryan stated quietly. Frank shrugged and then it was silent, neither of them actually having anything to say. Ryan flipped his Sidekick open, then closed, open then closed, twisting it between his fingers. Frankie sighed and then Ryan blurted out, “Are you sleeping with Gerard?”
He didn’t mean to say it, but he’d been wondering it, and awkward silences did that to him.
Frankie flushed pink and didn’t say anything - he didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no. He looked up at Ryan and finally said, “Uhm, I’m.” and left the room.
-
It wasn’t that Brendon was an idiot - that wasn’t the reason for his plan being stupidly idiotic, it was just weird because he was Brendon - it was just that the idea in general wasn’t exactly. Usual. It really didn’t start like that, with a phone call. It actually started a few hours prior to that, with Brendon and his laptop in the late night hours, sitting at Spencer’s house after a night of movies.
He’d stumbled upon a site run by some people from ‘the deep south’ on the Gulf Coast, and he was interested because that’s how his brain worked. It wasn’t that he wanted to get the idea, it had just popped into his head while he looked at some brightly colored pictures and stared in awe at the screen because, sure, he had Vegas, but this place. This place had more.
He’d been to New Orleans before, yes, but never during the right season. He hadn’t really paid attention when they’d gone around town, the French Quarter, poking into shops and looking at masks that made Ryan’s eyes sparkle like Brendon’s did. He didn’t pay attention to the big details when the time called for it, and usually focused on the small things like the Alligator Heads and the Penny Press Machines on every corner.
Brendon had spotted the beads, sure, everyone had, but it hadn’t hit him until he’d seen the pictures - the pictures of live action, the air colored in greens and purples and golds. It hadn’t hit him until the words popped out at him on the page in their bold print.
He’s sprinted to Spencer’s room and shaken him awake, barely, just enough that his eyes had been open and he’d said, “Spence - hey, Spencer, what do you know about Mardi Gras?”
Spencer had rolled over and gone back to sleep.
Brendon had called Pete.
-
Frank slid into the spot between Mikey and Gerard on the sofa. Brendon was being loud, louder than ever, really, and even Spencer was listening, leaning forward the tiniest bit so he could hear better, not that the entire neighborhood couldn’t hear Brendon’s speech. Hayley was nodding along, excited, pointing things out between Brendon’s sentences, and it was like this was the biggest thing that had ever happened to any of them.
Pete and William were finishing the map while Brendon talked and it was looking good - great, even, compared to the grey and white lines it had formerly been. But when it came time for Brendon to point things out on the map, he suddenly went quiet and said, “And that’s where it ends. We don’t have the streets, so.”
Spencer said, “Well, why don’t you just make it a party?”
And Brendon looked like he could have kissed him.
-
It was a thing, now, and not just The Plan. It was The Plan That Actually Has A Plot, but everyone still called it The Plan because that was just easier to say. They still had to work on where to have it (“Not my back yard, Brendon. Don’t even think about it. My yard might be big, but it’s not that big.”) and how to set it up, exactly, but it was looking good and Andy, Joe, and Bob were helping Pete put together a list of food.
Brendon had even run up the stairs two at a time and told Ryan everything in a rushed voice, and Ryan didn’t approve, not at all, but if Ryan approved then it wouldn’t exactly be any fun, anyway, so. After, Ryan did come downstairs and join them, but he kept his distance and every time he spotted Gerard, he bolted to another room.
“You’re going to have to get over it eventually.” Spencer told him. He just shrugged.
They didn’t hear the front door open until a voice carried through the house.
“Hey, Brendon!” Everything was quiet, and Brendon looked excited already, dropped his pen and everything. “When was the last time your dick got sucked through the window?” Brendon bolted, and everyone followed. By the time they got there, Brendon had already attached himself to her like a fifth limb and she was grinning, hugging Brendon back.
Spencer said, “Not another one,”
Greta, of course, had a soft spot for the Panic boys and sought each of them out in the small crowd, attaching herself to Ryan for an extra long time.
“So,” she said, still grinning, still happy, but her hands were on her hips and she was looking at everyone, searching them. “Whose idea was it to have a party without me?”
-
Ray and Jon were huddled around Jon’s computer and camera, clicking around Photoshop and searching through Ryan’s weird fonts that he’d downloaded for all the albums and most of them were Ryan Ross Copyrights, designed by Ryan himself. Which was exactly why they should use the fonts and not let them go to waste, even if they weren’t being used on album covers like they were meant to be.
They decided that one of the local parks would be a good choice for the party - this weird, totally Un-Vegas party, but a party nonetheless. Ryan still wasn’t happy about everyone being in Spencer’s house, and he especially wasn’t happy about having to drive his dogs back and forth to his condo every night just because there was no place to sleep.
Mikey, leering from across the table, had offered to share his half of the sofa. Ryan choked on his bagel and walked away. Brendon finally told Ryan that, if it would make him happy, they could all wear the masks that Ryan liked, the ones from the But It’s Better If You Do video, and after that, Ryan seemed a little less unhappy, but he still paced the room and ranted to Spencer about wasting money on something stupid like this (Spencer didn’t point out that each of Ryan’s dogs had a different bowl for each day of the week) and he didn’t even notice when Gerard walked into the room.
“Hey,” Gerard said, close enough to wrap his arms around Ryan’s waist and pull him in enough just to freak him out. Ryan went stiff in his grip and Spencer buried his face in his hands and laughed. Brendon looked up from his spot at the kitchen table and smiled at Spencer, eyes bright and he was happy and when Gerard let Ryan go, Ryan still sprinted, but Spencer’s smile was brighter and Brendon’s heart was maybe beating a little faster.
Patrick and Pete appeared later, and it wasn’t like their disappearing had gone unnoticed. Pete leaned over Jon’s shoulder and pointed out matching masks on the website for him and Patrick, and Patrick didn’t say anything, just sat back and started a conversation with Bob.
Greta and Hayley poured over book after book, looking at outfits and comparing jackets with masks and colors in ties to feathers on boas. Gerard just requested that his band be in all black, while Frankie leaned across the table and flipped through the book to the gloves, pointing out multiple pairs that he would deem appropriate. There was a pause and then Greta attacked Frankie, hugging him around the neck and saying, “You’re so cute!”
Frankie just went still, then flushed and grinned up at Gerard.
Brendon pulled Spencer to where Jon and Ray were sitting, and said, “Okay, so. Guest list.”
Jon grinned. “Okay, throw `em at me.” Brendon thought, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, one finger on his chin, his head tilted just enough that it was perfectly funny. Brendon named off everyone in the house, not including Ryan’s dog (“Ryan needs to stop being so anti-social. He should learn to be a people-person.”) and then he named off almost everyone in the entire Fueled By Ramen industry.
He suddenly paused and actually looked thoughtful for a few seconds, then he said, “Jack Marin!” Spencer went quiet, face pressed against Brendon’s shoulder to keep from either laughing or making a face. He liked Jack Marin, yes, they were all friends, but Jeffree Star sort of had a big mouth, and there were enough videos on Buzznet about Jack’s dick as it was, so Spencer wasn’t sure he’d actually be able to face Jack without either laughing or getting sick.
Spencer changed the subject.
-
Brendon set a date and after that, Ryan thought it would maybe be a little calmer since there weren’t as many things to do. The costumes were ordered and Brendon’s millions of beads were ordered and Ryan was sure they could relax some, maybe write a song or two or maybe pick up some instruments. But, after Brendon set the date, the house was never quiet again.
-
It was never quiet, not even late at night, because after the lights went out, there was still whispering, quiet breathing and soft secrets.
-
“Spencer?” Brendon whispered into the darkness. Pete and Patrick and William were in the room, sleeping, on the floor with sleeping bags open and spread between them, covered in blankets that mostly came from Spencer’s mom when she heard what was going on, heard that Brendon had decided to throw a party and needed Spencer’s help. Spencer had almost been asleep, listening to the even breathing of the three on the floor below them, silent enough to hear that there were no other voices in the house.
Everyone was sleeping.
Spencer whispered back, “Yeah?”
Brendon was silent for a second, listening as Pete shifted. “Are you awake?”
Spencer shrugged, said, “Maybe.”
Brendon was silent then, and Spencer knew he had something on his mind, because Brendon was rarely quiet - usually reserved the quiet moment for when he had something to really worry about on his mind. He finally said, “Is this a bad idea?”
Spencer wasn’t sure what to say, because yes, it had been a bad idea from the start, and it was tiring and there were tons of people in his house and the only one of them he’d actually invited over was Ryan (and Jon, but Jon always stayed with him when they were writing. that’s just how things were.) and Ryan’s dogs were running around his backyard, making an oval-shaped track in the grass that didn’t exactly look all that appealing.
But overall, Spencer was happy, excited that everyone was staying with him and wanted to stay with him, and everyone was so funny, and maybe a little creepy sometimes (he still wasn’t sure about Frank) and. And, he really doesn’t mind now.
Brendon said, “I’ve been bothering you a lot.”
His voice is thick, and Brendon’s really worried about this, worried about the booklets spread across Spencer’s dining room table and the video games all over the floor and the poster boards tacked to Spencer’s walls - from his bedroom to the kitchen.
Brendon said, “I’m sorry.”
Spencer didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how.
Brendon said, “I’ll leave tomorrow.”
And really, Spencer had never been able to tell Brendon no.
-
Spencer was the kind of person who woke up scared in the middle of the night, heart racing and fingers cold, but then he couldn’t remember what the dream was about, couldn’t remember why he felt like he should be running. Wasn’t sure what he was running from.
He didn’t usually remember his dreams unless they were the important ones - the important ones that scared the shit out of him and made his heart race and his mind wild; the ones that made him search the room for something familiar, something that hadn’t been there, something that had always been there.
He remembered dreams from when he was just a kid, dreams about Ryan running away from home and Ryan with tears running down his face, fingers clenched in Spencer’s shirt, Ryan with bruises high on his cheek bones and Ryan with nothing left to say.
Spencer remembered this dream, though.
He remembered Brendon. Brendon and there were tears in this dream, too, but he couldn’t tell who they belonged to, not that it really mattered because Brendon was leaving. Brendon was leaving and Spencer was just standing there, letting him go. Spencer just couldn’t tell Brendon, “No.”
-
He woke up when Brendon slipped out of bed, out from underneath his arm, out of his grip. Brendon didn’t look at him, just quietly made his way across the room (Pete and Patrick and Bill were still sleeping, a tangled mess on the floor, William all long limbs and Pete holding onto as much as he could, keeping them close) and out the door.
It took him a minute to remember how to breathe, and when he did, it took him another second to stop and think about the dream. He heard Brendon at the bottom of the stairs and bolted.
-
“Don’t go,” he breathed, hot in Brendon’s ear, fingers clasped in the fabric of Brendon’s shirt, holding him tight, keeping him close. He had to catch his breath, not even awake yet and already running. Gerard sat up, groggy, and looked at them, eyes unfocused. Frank stirred but didn’t wake, pulled close next to Gerard, Ray on Gerard’s other side with Mikey and Bob on the sofa. Hayley and Greta had disappeared to Ryan’s house so they wouldn’t have to bother Spencer with breakfast, and Greta liked Ryan’s dogs, anyway.
(Spencer was sure Greta just like Ryan.)
Brendon looked away, looked at Gerard and looked at the floor and looked anywhere that wasn’t Spencer. He said, “Let go, Spence.”
“Bren, hey, don’t,” Spencer moved his grip from Brendon’s shirt to his wrist, pressing on the keys of the piano tattoo on his way down because he knew that made Brendon smile. “Don’t leave, okay? I don’t want you to.” He was already whispering and he tried to move them back into the hallway, closer to the stairs and farther from the prying eyes in the living room, but Brendon wouldn’t move, so Spencer had to work with what he had.
Brendon said, “I wasn’t thinking. I brought everyone into your house and. I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” Spencer’s voice was below a whisper now, just between him and Brendon, and Brendon had to lean in just to hear. “Did I ever tell you that I didn’t want you here?”
Brendon had to stop and think about that because no, Spencer hadn’t ever actually said that.
He said, “I don’t want to leave.”
Spencer said, “I don’t want you do.”
Brendon turned, fingers gripping Spencer’s shirt and pulling him closer, pressing his face into Spencer’s neck and staying there. Spencer pulled him close, one arm wrapped securely around his waist, the other in Brendon’s hair, keeping him where he was. Brendon said, “I’m sorry.”
Spencer said, “I know. It’s okay. I’m not mad.”
They stayed there, Brendon holding onto Spencer and not letting go, Spencer almost rocking them, though really, that was more out of exhaustion than anything. When Brendon finally sniffled and pulled back, eyes almost dry but not quite, he gave Spencer a weak smile and said, “Can I help you make breakfast?”
Spencer said, “Of course.”
-
It wasn’t huge - the party. Brendon mostly stood in the corner, looking down at the mask in his hands and wondering why he’d even wanted this in the first place. Out of everyone, Ryan seemed to be having the best time, though if anyone said anything, he’d immediately go pout on the other side of the park for five minutes.
Bob was feeling quite distressed, seeing as how the media had showed up, amazed at the size of the party and the gathering of all the bands in one place (which was pretty much a jackpot for any photographer).
“Hey,” Spencer said, coming up beside him. Brendon tilted his head in greeting, almost smiling, his lips twitching at the corners.
Brendon said, “Everyone’s leaving tonight.” He added, “I’m leaving tonight.”
“Why?” Spencer asked, eyes bright, leaning just enough to bump his shoulder with Brendon’s, forcing a smile.
“Because the party’s over. Everyone’s going home.” He shrugged and stared at the mask he was still holding. He hadn’t actually put it on yet. Spencer held his own mask in his hands, having taken it off when he came up beside Brendon.
“Well,” Spencer said slowly, “That doesn’t mean you have to leave. I’ll be kind of lonely without the house full.”
Brendon didn’t look up at him, but his mouth twitched into a frown and Spencer knew he was resisting. (Spencer liked knowing that he knew so many things about Brendon). “You’ll have Ryan,” Brendon pointed out. “And you’ll have Jon, too.”
“Ryan isn’t company,” Spencer said, “And Jon’s just there to use my TV for his video games. He doesn’t actually talk or move or get annoying or anything.”
A grin spread across Brendon’s face, finally; he’d been waiting. He looked up at Spencer and said, “I won’t leave if you won’t take my half of the bed.”
Spencer said, “It’s a deal.”