Love's Not A Competition (But I'm Winning) [6/6]
Ryan follows Jon out to the car, after they argue for close to an hour because Jon decided that it would be appropriate to carry Ryan’s luggage out to the parking lot, as if Ryan has suddenly turned into a ten year old girl. Jon told him in return that his arms are so skinny they would probably snap if he strained them too much, and that he needs a big strong man to carry his things for him. The argument ends with Jon crowding Ryan against the passenger side door of Ryan’s and kissing him; mainly to stop the next sharp-edged comment from coming out of his mouth. It’s an effective plan though.
“Where’s your car?” Ryan asks, as Jon slips into the passenger side.
He throws his suitcase into the backseat, and wonders if he ever would have gone through with actually leaving. If Jon hadn’t stopped him would he have taken off, just left without so much as an explanation? He isn’t sure. Part of him shouts at him that it was impulsive and stupid, but the other part of him -the sadist part of him- wanted to punish Jon. Luckily that part of him isn’t dominant.
When he gets into the driver’s side, Jon smiles at him sheepishly and says, “Spencer drove me. I figured if you said ‘no’ I could guilt trip you into giving me a lift home so you would miss your flight. It would’ve bought me some time to persuade you that you were being really stupid”.
“Wow,” Ryan laughs, turning on the ignition. The car thrums to life, vibrations causing the little air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror to swing backwards and forwards. They drive out of the parking lot in silence out onto the road. The ride is peaceful until Jon starts to make comments about Ryan’s driving, and how he is way too aggressive with the brakes. The rest of the ride is spent in an angry silence when Ryan tells him to either shut up or get the hell out of the and walk the rest of the way home.
When they pull into the drive, Brendon’s already on the porch waiting. Both of his feet drum excitedly on the ground, and his eyes light up brightly when he spots the car pulling into the driveway. Ryan has the feeling that there has been a massive conspiracy going on behind his back. Either he is completely oblivious or his friends are incredibly sneaky. He suspects it’s probably the latter of the two.
Brendon runs up to the car, and pulls Ryan out from his seat, straight into a hug before he’s even turned off the ignition. Brendon smells like barbeque smoke and beer, and his arms are too tight around Ryan’s chest. It almost feels like his ribs are about to crack under the pressure, but Ryan laughs and accepts the hug anyway. He wraps his arms around Brendon in response and squeezes lightly. “Were you in on this too?”
“Maybe a little bit,” Brendon admits sheepishly. He ducks under Ryan’s arm to pounce on Jon, who opens his arms invitingly. The pair embraces enthusiastically, as if they haven’t seen each other in years rather than hours, until Jon steps back and Brendon skips back into the house purposefully, demanding that they follow.
Ryan casts his glance in Jon’s direction, only to receive a stupid grin. Sighing, he follows Brendon cautiously into the house and hopes that no balloons or confetti are waiting for him, because he will spontaneously combust if that is the case. It’s the kind of crazy thing he expects from Brendon. One time, Brendon filled Ryan’s kitchen with glitter to celebrate completing their first album. Ryan ended up picking sparkles out of his cereal for months. He didn’t talk to Brendon for over a week either, until Spencer told him he was being a bitch.
Luckily, Spencer seems to have been in control of the situation, and any extravagant plans that Brendon may have had for big parties or confetti have been turned into a low key barbeque for just the four of them. Sometimes Ryan thinks that Spencer is Superman.
“Hey, you’re back,” Spencer greets them when they reach the kitchen. He slides some burgers onto a plate, freshly cooked and gestures for them to go ahead and eat them. His smile is a little too smug to be sincere but Ryan lets it slide because the burgers do look really good, and he hasn’t eaten in a while.
“Turns out Ryan couldn’t resist my charm,” Jon jokes easily, dodging a punch that Ryan aims at his stomach. He grabs a burger and puts it in a bun. Eyes warm with amusement. It’s almost as if the past few weeks never happened, and Ryan’s secretly grateful that Jon is actually smiling genuinely at him again.
Ryan warns, “I could change my mind”. He snatches the burger agilely from Jon’s curled fingers and steps out into the yard. The sound of Jon’s outrage makes Ryan grin to himself as he finds himself a lawn chair and sits in it. It’s a bit dusty from the time its spent packed up in the garage but it’s still comfy. Ryan snuggles into it, crossing his long legs at the ankles- the epitome of relaxation.
The grill is set up a few feet away, smoking. The embers smoulder and die. He watches the ashes get blown around in the wind as the others file out into the yard and take equally dusty seats. He pretends that he doesn’t notice Jon takes the seat closest to him. When a casual touch brushes the top of his thigh, along the seam he also acts oblivious to it. Although his muscles tighten slightly in surprise, and after a long moment he can’t help but sneak a glance at Jon from behind his bun. The bastard smiles smugly at him and Ryan secretly seethes. If he keeps on doing it Ryan is going to kill him.
Jon continues to ‘accidentally’ brush his hand along any available piece of Ryan the rest of the evening.
*
“Are you and Bren happy?” Ryan asks suddenly. The question has been bothering him perpetually and he realises he needs some sort of reassurance that things will turn out for the better. He and Spencer are sitting on the grass, wet with dew, watching Jon chase a hysterical Brendon around the back yard. The sun is dipping down below the few trees in the yard behind, and for once Ryan doesn’t feel like his heart is sinking with it. It’s been a while since that’s happened.
Spencer smiles warmly at him and slings an arm around Ryan’s slight shoulders. “Never been happier”.
Ryan nods. It’s the answer he wanted to hear. It’s not confirmation that his relationship with Jon is going to be perfect. Hell, if anything it will be more tempestuous and the fighting more heated. The upside of that is that at least they get to have make-up sex afterwards, and Jon will leave bruises on his hips that will last for weeks. The thought alone causes Ryan to shudder involuntarily with anticipation. Brendon lets out a manic scream and Ryan snaps out of his reverie, his embarrassment staining his cheeks a furious shade of red.
*
Ryan looks around the room in astonishment. He can feel his initial surprise giving way to the familiar burn of anger, but he tries to suppress it. His fists clench tightly at his sides as he turns around to survey the rest of the room. Brendon and Spencer are busy packing in their room, which Ryan knows is codeword for sex -if the noises coming through the door are anything to go by- and Jon is in his room on the laptop. Still, Ryan can guess who stole all his stuff without even thinking about it.
Glancing around the room one more time (just in case is belongings magically reappear), he decides to go and question Jon. The noise from the guest room gets louder as Ryan steps out into the hall and he can’t resist banging on the door just for the hell of it. For one blissful second the moans stop before Brendon calls out something that sounds suspiciously like ‘Fuck off Ryan!’ before the noise resumes. It’s louder than before.
Jon’s sitting at his desk when Ryan enters. His head his bent to see the screen better, his brow crumpled together in concentration. Ryan props himself up against the door, his hip jutting out to rest on its wooden frame. He’s ready to make a dramatic exit if he has to. “Do you want to tell me why all my things are in your room instead of mine?”
Jon gulps, tearing his eyes away from the screen to look at Ryan. At least he has the sense to snap his laptop shut and focus his attention on Ryan venting in the doorway. He looks a little sheepish as he answers, “I thought you could move in here. We could turn your room into a guestroom then, or something”.
“Oh, did you?” Ryan says sarcastically, eyebrows raised into his hairline to show just how much he thinks of that idea. “And at what point exactly were you going to discuss this with me?”
Comprehension flickers comically onto Jon’s face. He gets up from his desk and opens his arms pleadingly, realising his mistake. “Now?”
Ryan snorts, then spots some of his CDs stacked neatly with Jon’s in alphabetical order. He grabs them in both hands, letting out and outraged growl as he does so. How could Jon be stupid enough to decide something like this without even asking? In the corner he spots his acoustic guitar sitting next to Jon’s old bass and he storms across the room to fetch that too. In the process of storming, he fails to notice Jon moving to grab his arm.
Fingers squeezing tight along Ryan’s forearm, Jon says, “Ry, you’re being childish. I thought it was a good idea, okay? I’m sorry”.
“You should be,” Ryan retorts. He’s forced to stand stationary because of Jon’s grip on his arm, but his eyes still dart around, noting the positions of various belongings. “As if I’d want to move into you’re stinky room”.
“Stinky?” Jon echoes incredulously. He drops Ryan’s arm, and Ryan takes the opportunity to continue collecting his things. “My room’s stinky? Have you been in your room recently? Because I can tell you the odour coming from it is far from pleasant!”
Mid-way through picking up his embarrassingly large collection of chick flicks, Ryan stops to glare at Jon, “Fuck you, at least my room has some order in it. Yours looks like the remains of a disaster zone!”
“Yeah?! Well fuck you too!”
Ryan turns away, reaching for his guitar, so he doesn’t see Jon charge up behind him. However, he does feel Jon grab him by the hips so hard he can feel his skin pinch together painfully. The next minute, Jon’s yanking him around to face him like a puppet, and kisses him so forcefully that Ryan almost falls over onto the floor. All the things Ryan had been holding clatter to the ground, and Jon treads on a few as he stumbles blindly towards the bed. Ryan has a feeling that they are repeating exactly the same steps as last time, just without the alcohol.
He tugs off Jon’s t-shirt. It makes a ripping noise as some of the stitching comes undone around the hem, but Ryan just throws it across the floor carelessly. It’s a horrible shirt anyway. His fingers grip Jon’s bare shoulders possessively, almost melting into his skin, and if his blunt nails leave clawed marks across his back it will have nothing to do with Ryan marking his territory. Jon’s own hands fumble along Ryan’s waistband, tugging open his jeans in one movement. They fall to the floor, Ryan almost tripping over them in his eagerness to escape them. The rest of the clothes follow quickly, cascading to the bedroom floor so quickly that Ryan is almost surprised when the warmth of Jon’s body seeps into his own skin as he’s pulled down onto the mattress.
They kiss sloppily, mouths mismatched and not quite in sync but neither really cares. Jon fumbles in the drawer beside his bed, and after a moment produces a bottle of lube. He slicks his fingers up quickly. Ryan starts to make a comment about Jon’s hastiness, but an index finger pushes in through the tight muscled ring of his entrance, and he ends up choking out a startled gasp instead.
He grips the back of Jon’s neck roughly, dragging him in for another kiss, as a second finger pushes in. Jon moves the digits rhythmically inside Ryan. He scissors his fingers, stretching Ryan open. He doesn’t give any warning when he pulls his fingers out and reaches for the bottle again, this time squirting a handful onto his palm before rubbing it onto his cock.
Ryan can’t help the sound he makes when Jon grips his hips, aligning himself, and then pushes in, in one swift movement. He doesn’t give Ryan time to adjust. The pace is fast, ruthless, and with every thrust Ryan can hear the bed creak in protest. His legs wind around Jon’s waist, forcing him deeper, as Jon strokes his cock, but it still isn’t enough. Jon groans into his skin, biting along Ryan’s pale collarbone. On the next thrust he changes his angle, hitting Ryan’s prostate and he clings to Jon tighter. He pulls Jon’s face up to meet his again, and kisses him deeply. Pressure builds inside his stomach, warm with heat and he moans into Jon’s mouth.
He comes first, hips bucking up to meet Jon’s, spilling himself on both their stomachs. Jon keeps on thrusting through Ryan’s orgasm, until his breath stutters and he releases himself inside of Ryan. He collapses onto the bed with a grunt.
“Did you just have sex with me to shut me up?” Ryan asks, looking across the pillow at Jon.
“Maybe”.
Ryan thinks he should probably be outraged by that but he really can’t find it in him to care. He just got laid. Who cares what the reasons behind it were?
He grazes his fingers lightly across the exposed skin of Jon’s chest and smirks. “This is going to be how every argument ends, isn’t it?”
Jon turns onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. His hair sticks up in a thousand different angles, and his eyes dance brightly. He’s wearing one of his shit-eating grins that half the time Ryan wants to wipe of his face but this time he just finds himself smiling back just as ridiculously. God, he’s pathetic. “Pretty much.”
“Fucking shit guys!” Spencer yells from the doorway. Ryan casts a startled glance at him, eyes wide with surprise. Instinctively he pulls the sheets over himself to hide his body from view but Spencer already has his eyes squeezed shut and shielded with his hand. “If this is payback for me and Brendon being too loud, I sincerely apologise. Please never have sex with the door open again... and, fuck Jon could you at least attempt to cover yourself?”
Ryan throws some of the sheets at Jon, who catches them in one hand and thankfully spreads them over himself. His chest rises and falls erratically, and it takes a moment for Ryan to realise that he’s laughing. Actually, giggling would probably be a more appropriate word for it. The silence that follows -in between Jon’s quiet chuckles and gasps for air- is more than a little awkward. It’s almost tangible. Spencer still stands in the doorway, looking close to dying from embarrassment. His cheeks are the same colour red as Ryan’s. He shuffles from foot to foot for a moment before he says, “Right, I’m off to make a bonfire, so I can try and burn these images out of my mind”.
He shuts the door pointedly behind himself without a backward glance.
“That was your fault,” Ryan accuses, jabbing Jon in the stomach with his index finger when he’s sure Spencer’s footsteps have moved far enough down the hall.
Jon lifts an eyebrow, finally having stopped laughing. “If I recall correctly, you’re the one who stormed into my room and started shouting at me”.
“Yeah, well you’re the one who started kissing me with the door wide open!”
Laughing, Jon pulls Ryan closer to him and despite his squirming, kisses him softly. When he pulls away he smiles gently, says, “I’m allowed to have moments of weakness. I love you”.
Ryan feels his face soften despite himself. When did he become such a girl, seriously? He buries his head in the nape of Jon’s neck and whispers, “I love you too”.
A/n: The ending's mushy I know. Sorry for the long wait. My internet's been down and I've been getting stuff ready for college. I'm thinking of writing a companion piece for this for the Brendon/Spencer side of the story. Hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing.
“Where’s your car?” Ryan asks, as Jon slips into the passenger side.
He throws his suitcase into the backseat, and wonders if he ever would have gone through with actually leaving. If Jon hadn’t stopped him would he have taken off, just left without so much as an explanation? He isn’t sure. Part of him shouts at him that it was impulsive and stupid, but the other part of him -the sadist part of him- wanted to punish Jon. Luckily that part of him isn’t dominant.
When he gets into the driver’s side, Jon smiles at him sheepishly and says, “Spencer drove me. I figured if you said ‘no’ I could guilt trip you into giving me a lift home so you would miss your flight. It would’ve bought me some time to persuade you that you were being really stupid”.
“Wow,” Ryan laughs, turning on the ignition. The car thrums to life, vibrations causing the little air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror to swing backwards and forwards. They drive out of the parking lot in silence out onto the road. The ride is peaceful until Jon starts to make comments about Ryan’s driving, and how he is way too aggressive with the brakes. The rest of the ride is spent in an angry silence when Ryan tells him to either shut up or get the hell out of the and walk the rest of the way home.
When they pull into the drive, Brendon’s already on the porch waiting. Both of his feet drum excitedly on the ground, and his eyes light up brightly when he spots the car pulling into the driveway. Ryan has the feeling that there has been a massive conspiracy going on behind his back. Either he is completely oblivious or his friends are incredibly sneaky. He suspects it’s probably the latter of the two.
Brendon runs up to the car, and pulls Ryan out from his seat, straight into a hug before he’s even turned off the ignition. Brendon smells like barbeque smoke and beer, and his arms are too tight around Ryan’s chest. It almost feels like his ribs are about to crack under the pressure, but Ryan laughs and accepts the hug anyway. He wraps his arms around Brendon in response and squeezes lightly. “Were you in on this too?”
“Maybe a little bit,” Brendon admits sheepishly. He ducks under Ryan’s arm to pounce on Jon, who opens his arms invitingly. The pair embraces enthusiastically, as if they haven’t seen each other in years rather than hours, until Jon steps back and Brendon skips back into the house purposefully, demanding that they follow.
Ryan casts his glance in Jon’s direction, only to receive a stupid grin. Sighing, he follows Brendon cautiously into the house and hopes that no balloons or confetti are waiting for him, because he will spontaneously combust if that is the case. It’s the kind of crazy thing he expects from Brendon. One time, Brendon filled Ryan’s kitchen with glitter to celebrate completing their first album. Ryan ended up picking sparkles out of his cereal for months. He didn’t talk to Brendon for over a week either, until Spencer told him he was being a bitch.
Luckily, Spencer seems to have been in control of the situation, and any extravagant plans that Brendon may have had for big parties or confetti have been turned into a low key barbeque for just the four of them. Sometimes Ryan thinks that Spencer is Superman.
“Hey, you’re back,” Spencer greets them when they reach the kitchen. He slides some burgers onto a plate, freshly cooked and gestures for them to go ahead and eat them. His smile is a little too smug to be sincere but Ryan lets it slide because the burgers do look really good, and he hasn’t eaten in a while.
“Turns out Ryan couldn’t resist my charm,” Jon jokes easily, dodging a punch that Ryan aims at his stomach. He grabs a burger and puts it in a bun. Eyes warm with amusement. It’s almost as if the past few weeks never happened, and Ryan’s secretly grateful that Jon is actually smiling genuinely at him again.
Ryan warns, “I could change my mind”. He snatches the burger agilely from Jon’s curled fingers and steps out into the yard. The sound of Jon’s outrage makes Ryan grin to himself as he finds himself a lawn chair and sits in it. It’s a bit dusty from the time its spent packed up in the garage but it’s still comfy. Ryan snuggles into it, crossing his long legs at the ankles- the epitome of relaxation.
The grill is set up a few feet away, smoking. The embers smoulder and die. He watches the ashes get blown around in the wind as the others file out into the yard and take equally dusty seats. He pretends that he doesn’t notice Jon takes the seat closest to him. When a casual touch brushes the top of his thigh, along the seam he also acts oblivious to it. Although his muscles tighten slightly in surprise, and after a long moment he can’t help but sneak a glance at Jon from behind his bun. The bastard smiles smugly at him and Ryan secretly seethes. If he keeps on doing it Ryan is going to kill him.
Jon continues to ‘accidentally’ brush his hand along any available piece of Ryan the rest of the evening.
*
“Are you and Bren happy?” Ryan asks suddenly. The question has been bothering him perpetually and he realises he needs some sort of reassurance that things will turn out for the better. He and Spencer are sitting on the grass, wet with dew, watching Jon chase a hysterical Brendon around the back yard. The sun is dipping down below the few trees in the yard behind, and for once Ryan doesn’t feel like his heart is sinking with it. It’s been a while since that’s happened.
Spencer smiles warmly at him and slings an arm around Ryan’s slight shoulders. “Never been happier”.
Ryan nods. It’s the answer he wanted to hear. It’s not confirmation that his relationship with Jon is going to be perfect. Hell, if anything it will be more tempestuous and the fighting more heated. The upside of that is that at least they get to have make-up sex afterwards, and Jon will leave bruises on his hips that will last for weeks. The thought alone causes Ryan to shudder involuntarily with anticipation. Brendon lets out a manic scream and Ryan snaps out of his reverie, his embarrassment staining his cheeks a furious shade of red.
*
Ryan looks around the room in astonishment. He can feel his initial surprise giving way to the familiar burn of anger, but he tries to suppress it. His fists clench tightly at his sides as he turns around to survey the rest of the room. Brendon and Spencer are busy packing in their room, which Ryan knows is codeword for sex -if the noises coming through the door are anything to go by- and Jon is in his room on the laptop. Still, Ryan can guess who stole all his stuff without even thinking about it.
Glancing around the room one more time (just in case is belongings magically reappear), he decides to go and question Jon. The noise from the guest room gets louder as Ryan steps out into the hall and he can’t resist banging on the door just for the hell of it. For one blissful second the moans stop before Brendon calls out something that sounds suspiciously like ‘Fuck off Ryan!’ before the noise resumes. It’s louder than before.
Jon’s sitting at his desk when Ryan enters. His head his bent to see the screen better, his brow crumpled together in concentration. Ryan props himself up against the door, his hip jutting out to rest on its wooden frame. He’s ready to make a dramatic exit if he has to. “Do you want to tell me why all my things are in your room instead of mine?”
Jon gulps, tearing his eyes away from the screen to look at Ryan. At least he has the sense to snap his laptop shut and focus his attention on Ryan venting in the doorway. He looks a little sheepish as he answers, “I thought you could move in here. We could turn your room into a guestroom then, or something”.
“Oh, did you?” Ryan says sarcastically, eyebrows raised into his hairline to show just how much he thinks of that idea. “And at what point exactly were you going to discuss this with me?”
Comprehension flickers comically onto Jon’s face. He gets up from his desk and opens his arms pleadingly, realising his mistake. “Now?”
Ryan snorts, then spots some of his CDs stacked neatly with Jon’s in alphabetical order. He grabs them in both hands, letting out and outraged growl as he does so. How could Jon be stupid enough to decide something like this without even asking? In the corner he spots his acoustic guitar sitting next to Jon’s old bass and he storms across the room to fetch that too. In the process of storming, he fails to notice Jon moving to grab his arm.
Fingers squeezing tight along Ryan’s forearm, Jon says, “Ry, you’re being childish. I thought it was a good idea, okay? I’m sorry”.
“You should be,” Ryan retorts. He’s forced to stand stationary because of Jon’s grip on his arm, but his eyes still dart around, noting the positions of various belongings. “As if I’d want to move into you’re stinky room”.
“Stinky?” Jon echoes incredulously. He drops Ryan’s arm, and Ryan takes the opportunity to continue collecting his things. “My room’s stinky? Have you been in your room recently? Because I can tell you the odour coming from it is far from pleasant!”
Mid-way through picking up his embarrassingly large collection of chick flicks, Ryan stops to glare at Jon, “Fuck you, at least my room has some order in it. Yours looks like the remains of a disaster zone!”
“Yeah?! Well fuck you too!”
Ryan turns away, reaching for his guitar, so he doesn’t see Jon charge up behind him. However, he does feel Jon grab him by the hips so hard he can feel his skin pinch together painfully. The next minute, Jon’s yanking him around to face him like a puppet, and kisses him so forcefully that Ryan almost falls over onto the floor. All the things Ryan had been holding clatter to the ground, and Jon treads on a few as he stumbles blindly towards the bed. Ryan has a feeling that they are repeating exactly the same steps as last time, just without the alcohol.
He tugs off Jon’s t-shirt. It makes a ripping noise as some of the stitching comes undone around the hem, but Ryan just throws it across the floor carelessly. It’s a horrible shirt anyway. His fingers grip Jon’s bare shoulders possessively, almost melting into his skin, and if his blunt nails leave clawed marks across his back it will have nothing to do with Ryan marking his territory. Jon’s own hands fumble along Ryan’s waistband, tugging open his jeans in one movement. They fall to the floor, Ryan almost tripping over them in his eagerness to escape them. The rest of the clothes follow quickly, cascading to the bedroom floor so quickly that Ryan is almost surprised when the warmth of Jon’s body seeps into his own skin as he’s pulled down onto the mattress.
They kiss sloppily, mouths mismatched and not quite in sync but neither really cares. Jon fumbles in the drawer beside his bed, and after a moment produces a bottle of lube. He slicks his fingers up quickly. Ryan starts to make a comment about Jon’s hastiness, but an index finger pushes in through the tight muscled ring of his entrance, and he ends up choking out a startled gasp instead.
He grips the back of Jon’s neck roughly, dragging him in for another kiss, as a second finger pushes in. Jon moves the digits rhythmically inside Ryan. He scissors his fingers, stretching Ryan open. He doesn’t give any warning when he pulls his fingers out and reaches for the bottle again, this time squirting a handful onto his palm before rubbing it onto his cock.
Ryan can’t help the sound he makes when Jon grips his hips, aligning himself, and then pushes in, in one swift movement. He doesn’t give Ryan time to adjust. The pace is fast, ruthless, and with every thrust Ryan can hear the bed creak in protest. His legs wind around Jon’s waist, forcing him deeper, as Jon strokes his cock, but it still isn’t enough. Jon groans into his skin, biting along Ryan’s pale collarbone. On the next thrust he changes his angle, hitting Ryan’s prostate and he clings to Jon tighter. He pulls Jon’s face up to meet his again, and kisses him deeply. Pressure builds inside his stomach, warm with heat and he moans into Jon’s mouth.
He comes first, hips bucking up to meet Jon’s, spilling himself on both their stomachs. Jon keeps on thrusting through Ryan’s orgasm, until his breath stutters and he releases himself inside of Ryan. He collapses onto the bed with a grunt.
“Did you just have sex with me to shut me up?” Ryan asks, looking across the pillow at Jon.
“Maybe”.
Ryan thinks he should probably be outraged by that but he really can’t find it in him to care. He just got laid. Who cares what the reasons behind it were?
He grazes his fingers lightly across the exposed skin of Jon’s chest and smirks. “This is going to be how every argument ends, isn’t it?”
Jon turns onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. His hair sticks up in a thousand different angles, and his eyes dance brightly. He’s wearing one of his shit-eating grins that half the time Ryan wants to wipe of his face but this time he just finds himself smiling back just as ridiculously. God, he’s pathetic. “Pretty much.”
“Fucking shit guys!” Spencer yells from the doorway. Ryan casts a startled glance at him, eyes wide with surprise. Instinctively he pulls the sheets over himself to hide his body from view but Spencer already has his eyes squeezed shut and shielded with his hand. “If this is payback for me and Brendon being too loud, I sincerely apologise. Please never have sex with the door open again... and, fuck Jon could you at least attempt to cover yourself?”
Ryan throws some of the sheets at Jon, who catches them in one hand and thankfully spreads them over himself. His chest rises and falls erratically, and it takes a moment for Ryan to realise that he’s laughing. Actually, giggling would probably be a more appropriate word for it. The silence that follows -in between Jon’s quiet chuckles and gasps for air- is more than a little awkward. It’s almost tangible. Spencer still stands in the doorway, looking close to dying from embarrassment. His cheeks are the same colour red as Ryan’s. He shuffles from foot to foot for a moment before he says, “Right, I’m off to make a bonfire, so I can try and burn these images out of my mind”.
He shuts the door pointedly behind himself without a backward glance.
“That was your fault,” Ryan accuses, jabbing Jon in the stomach with his index finger when he’s sure Spencer’s footsteps have moved far enough down the hall.
Jon lifts an eyebrow, finally having stopped laughing. “If I recall correctly, you’re the one who stormed into my room and started shouting at me”.
“Yeah, well you’re the one who started kissing me with the door wide open!”
Laughing, Jon pulls Ryan closer to him and despite his squirming, kisses him softly. When he pulls away he smiles gently, says, “I’m allowed to have moments of weakness. I love you”.
Ryan feels his face soften despite himself. When did he become such a girl, seriously? He buries his head in the nape of Jon’s neck and whispers, “I love you too”.
A/n: The ending's mushy I know. Sorry for the long wait. My internet's been down and I've been getting stuff ready for college. I'm thinking of writing a companion piece for this for the Brendon/Spencer side of the story. Hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing.