Lullaby [3/20]
Title: Lullaby
Author: hearts_lust
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, Gabe/William, slight mentions of Spencer/Jon
POV: Second, Ryan.
Summary: Brendon and Ryan are married and live next door to Gabe and William, two very odd characters who always want sex.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Author Notes: If you haven't read Just Face It; You Need Me, this probably won't make sense. But who knows.
Dedications: basschick27
tell_her_lies
paper_teenheart
santixcore Who beta'd for me.
brennybear19
First five to comment. :]
The Love We Have Is Strong
I Was Constructed For You
"Jon, stop! Stop! Ryan's right here, stop! Pull the fuck out!"
"I'm trying, I'm trying!"
You shut the bedroom door as those words are being said. You really have no idea what the fuck just happened. All you know is that your supposedly straight best friend is fucking Brendon's supposed to be best friend. "Ryan," you hear Spencer say, "What're you doing here?"
"Brendon and I had a fight and I left."
"Well go back."
"Why?"
"Because I'm a little busy if you didn't notice."
"I'm so telling Hayley."
"Don't!"
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Duh, I'm your bestie."
"But you fucking lied to me!"
"Ryan, what the hell did I ever lie to you about?"
"About not being gay, you homo."
"I'm not gay, and look who the fuck's talking!"
"But I admit my homosexuality, you in-denial little homo."
"Bye Ryan."
You cross your arms over your chest and storm down the stairs. The one time you need somebody to talk to, they're too busy fucking some boy to talk to you. Now who the fuck are you going to confide in? You're not going to Gabe's and staying the night because God knows what kind of STDs you'd get out of that, and you really don't have any friends.
Brendon's parents live right across the street, and you almost, almost knock on the door and ask for a nights stay, but you remember how Brendon's siblings hate you and how pissed off he'd be if he knew you went there. You have no choice but to go home.
On the drive back, you have Blessthefall blaring in your ear. Normally you wouldn't like screaming stuff like this, but right now, you're in the mood.
Your phone rings while you're at a red light. You fish it out of your pocket and read the caller ID.
Brendon.
"Hello?" you say.
"Come home."
"What, are you controlling me now? Brendon, you are not my father and I don't have to listen to you."
"No, no. That's not it. I need you."
"Brendon, I can't. Not right now."
"Please, Ryan; I need you."
"I'm sick of your yelling at me."
"I hate us fighting."
"Brendon, I don't know where I'm going, but I can't come home. Not tonight. I'm sorry."
"Baby please, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out on you." By this point you can hear the tears in his voice, and it almost makes you drive home. But instead you turn the opposite direction -- towards the strip.
"I know you're sorry but I can't come home. I love you, Brendon, but this shit has to stop. You can't keep blocking me out because you're not getting any better. We're going to see Dr. Kingston tomorrow. He's a therapist and he's going to help you, Brendon, and you're going whether you want to or not."
"I'll go, just, please, come home. I need you."
"Fine," you say, turning down a side street and heading back towards your apartment. "I'm on my way. Go to bed and I'll be there in ten, okay baby?"
"I love you, Ryan."
"Love you too."
You turn left at the red light you were previously at, only to go down six streets and turn right. Finally, you see the apartment building, and your apartment. The lights are out except in the bedroom, and the cat is sitting in the window. You pull the car into parking space number fifty-two and turn off the engine.
You personally think it's stupid to have numbered parking spaces. If you have vistors, where do they park if all of the numbers are filled? Oh, that's right. They have to start double parking. This place is a load of crap, you think, and you can't wait to get out of here.
Climbing the stairs, you start to get nervous. Why did Brendon keep saying he needed you? What did he do? Is he okay? Shut the fuck up, you tell yourself, because racing thoughts right now isn't such a great idea. You open the door and walk straight back to your bedroom.
Brendon's in there. He's passed the fuck out and you smile. He's adorable when he sleeps, you think. His face is more relaxed than normal. Midnight comes in and jumps on the bed, landing on Brendon's head. "Oh, Midnight," you whisper, walking closer and picking her up. "You don't sleep on somebody's head. It's rude!"
Suddenly you realized you're giving the fucking cat advice, when really there's no need. She's gonna do whatever she wants, whether you or Brendon like it or not. You laugh at yourself and shake your head, kissing Midnight's slender, furry body. You set her back down on the bed, and she jumps on Brendon's stomach.
You pull your jeans off, along with your shirt, and get in the bed, also. The bed is warm, Brendon's warm, but you're cold, and you don't want to be a bitch and wake him up. Shit, you just did. The cold skin of your body touching his hot skin woke him up. "Fuck, Ryan, you're freezing."
"Tell me something I didn't know."
"Our cat is a lesbian."
You look at Brendon's oddly. "What the fucking hell, Brendon?"
"Seriously! She is! Today I took her outside with me after you left and we were just sitting there, but this other girl cat walked up and Midnight tried to rape her!"
When you look at Midnight, laughing, is seems like she's smiling because it's true. "Brendon, can cats even be anything but straight?"
"I don't know, but how amazing would it be to have fucking gay cats! Shit, Ryan, let's have some animal babies!"
"Woah now," you say. "One cat is enough; I don't need another."
"Aw, but they're so cute and fuzzy!"
"Brendon go to sleep. We'll discuss this in the morning."
He kisses your neck, your cheek, your chest, and then finally your lips. You don't want sex tonight; the mood died when you left the house. You just want to sleep and cuddle and kiss your husband without taking it to sex. "Night," he finally whispers in your ear before kissing you once more.
"Night," you reply, kissing him back.
-----
The next morning, Brendon's out of the bed before you are. It's strange, too, because between the two of you, Brendon always sleeps the latest. You get out of bed and walk into the living room. Brendon's sitting on the couch, mid-bite of Cinammon Toast Crunch, and he's staring at you. When you look at the clock on the stove, it reads 8:47. What the fucking hell.
"Morning," he says happily. "I got up early because of that appointment."
You smile and kiss his cheek, sitting down beside him. "Well I'm glad you're willingly going. I thought I was gonna have to drag your ass there."
"Nah, I'm sick of feeling like this. I want help."
"I'm glad," you say once more. "Now hurry up so we can leave. We've gotta be there soon, baby."
"Okay," he says, taking another bite of his cereal and getting up. He walks past the worn out, black couch and into the too-small, messy kitchen. He washes his bowl out -- something he never does -- and puts it in the diswasher before going to get dressed.
Impressive.
"I'm ready," he says ten minutes later. The doctors appointment is in twenty minutes, and it takes fifteen to get there. Not too bad. "Let's go."
He wraps his arm around your waist as the two of you head for the car. He opens the driver door for you, letting you get in and start the car, before heading for the passenger side. You pull out of spot number fifty-two and drive towards your destination.
Brendon blares Three Days Grace the whole way there. It was fine the for the first six minutes, but they got annoying after a while. You shut off the radio and he looks at you. "What was that for?"
"I have a headache." His voice is driving me up the wall.
"Sorry."
You stare at the street in front of you. Only a couple more minutes and you'll be there, and Brendon'll be getting the help he needs. You like that he's willing to come and get help, and that he's admitting he has a problem. Thinking of this makes you smile.
You pull into the parking lot for his office, parking in the third spot from the door. When you get out, you immediately walk over to Brendon and lace your hand with his.
The walls are a light blue, the couch is old and worn out, and the doctor looks like he could fall over dead at anytime. "Mr. Urie," he says, looking at Brendon. "Your, eh, husband has informed me of these constant fights. What are they about?"
"The smallest of things. We could argue over what side of the bed we sleep on and we wouldn't talk for a day or so."
"And why is this?"
"You're the doctor, you tell me."
"Mr. Urie, have you ever been diagnosed with Bipolar type I or II?"
"No sir."
"Mhm," he says, writing something on his clipboard. "Tell about how you've been feeling as of late."
"Ugh, like shit."
"Why?"
"My best friend has been avoiding and ignoring me for a year. I found out recently that he's been going to our neighbors apartment and eating their food and stuff."
"And this is why you feel bad?"
"Yes."
"Would you say you're depressed?"
"I don't know. How would I?"
"Well have you changed your eating habits? For example, do you eat less?"
"Yeah."
"You're moody, also, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"Are you blocking others out."
"Kind of."
"Then I know exactly what's wrong. Mr. Urie I'm prescribing you anti-depressants. I want you to take two a day, once in the morning and once before bed. I want you to make another appointment as soon as the bottle is empty, okay?"
"O-okay," he says, looking at you in disappointment. You don't know why he's looking at you that way. It's not like he's let you down. You love him, medicine or not.
"I want to have a weekly session, too. Brendon, I don't believe you're depressed. I'm trying to stop it before you do get depressed; this is all just a precaution."
"Okay," he says once more. "Are we done yet?"
"Yeah, we are. I'll see you next Thursday."
You pull Brendon out of the chair, out of the room, out of the building. Once you're standing outside and by your car, you pull him into a hug and he cries. You rub his back and hold his shaking body in your arms. "Shh, it's okay, Bren. You're okay."
He cries for a few more minutes, but you don't let go. You hate to see him cry, you hate to see him sad, but this isn't something to be sad over. It's stopping something before it happens, and that something isn't anything too horrible.
"I'm sorry," he says into your ear after pulling away.
"Don't be, baby. Everything'll be fine, you'll see. Brendon, this isn't the end of anything," you say looking into his eyes. "This is just a beginning of a happier life for you and I both."
"I know," he whispers. You place a quick kiss on his lips before climbing into the car.
~~~
Sooooo. This would have been posted soon but somebodies DEATH got in the way and yeah. Don't really wanna talk about it. But sorry to victoria4_xo because I needed to get this out and I let somebody else beta. Other than that I hoped you enjoyed this. <33
Author: hearts_lust
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, Gabe/William, slight mentions of Spencer/Jon
POV: Second, Ryan.
Summary: Brendon and Ryan are married and live next door to Gabe and William, two very odd characters who always want sex.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Author Notes: If you haven't read Just Face It; You Need Me, this probably won't make sense. But who knows.
Dedications: basschick27
tell_her_lies
paper_teenheart
santixcore Who beta'd for me.
brennybear19
First five to comment. :]
The Love We Have Is Strong
I Was Constructed For You
"Jon, stop! Stop! Ryan's right here, stop! Pull the fuck out!"
"I'm trying, I'm trying!"
You shut the bedroom door as those words are being said. You really have no idea what the fuck just happened. All you know is that your supposedly straight best friend is fucking Brendon's supposed to be best friend. "Ryan," you hear Spencer say, "What're you doing here?"
"Brendon and I had a fight and I left."
"Well go back."
"Why?"
"Because I'm a little busy if you didn't notice."
"I'm so telling Hayley."
"Don't!"
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Duh, I'm your bestie."
"But you fucking lied to me!"
"Ryan, what the hell did I ever lie to you about?"
"About not being gay, you homo."
"I'm not gay, and look who the fuck's talking!"
"But I admit my homosexuality, you in-denial little homo."
"Bye Ryan."
You cross your arms over your chest and storm down the stairs. The one time you need somebody to talk to, they're too busy fucking some boy to talk to you. Now who the fuck are you going to confide in? You're not going to Gabe's and staying the night because God knows what kind of STDs you'd get out of that, and you really don't have any friends.
Brendon's parents live right across the street, and you almost, almost knock on the door and ask for a nights stay, but you remember how Brendon's siblings hate you and how pissed off he'd be if he knew you went there. You have no choice but to go home.
On the drive back, you have Blessthefall blaring in your ear. Normally you wouldn't like screaming stuff like this, but right now, you're in the mood.
Your phone rings while you're at a red light. You fish it out of your pocket and read the caller ID.
Brendon.
"Hello?" you say.
"Come home."
"What, are you controlling me now? Brendon, you are not my father and I don't have to listen to you."
"No, no. That's not it. I need you."
"Brendon, I can't. Not right now."
"Please, Ryan; I need you."
"I'm sick of your yelling at me."
"I hate us fighting."
"Brendon, I don't know where I'm going, but I can't come home. Not tonight. I'm sorry."
"Baby please, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out on you." By this point you can hear the tears in his voice, and it almost makes you drive home. But instead you turn the opposite direction -- towards the strip.
"I know you're sorry but I can't come home. I love you, Brendon, but this shit has to stop. You can't keep blocking me out because you're not getting any better. We're going to see Dr. Kingston tomorrow. He's a therapist and he's going to help you, Brendon, and you're going whether you want to or not."
"I'll go, just, please, come home. I need you."
"Fine," you say, turning down a side street and heading back towards your apartment. "I'm on my way. Go to bed and I'll be there in ten, okay baby?"
"I love you, Ryan."
"Love you too."
You turn left at the red light you were previously at, only to go down six streets and turn right. Finally, you see the apartment building, and your apartment. The lights are out except in the bedroom, and the cat is sitting in the window. You pull the car into parking space number fifty-two and turn off the engine.
You personally think it's stupid to have numbered parking spaces. If you have vistors, where do they park if all of the numbers are filled? Oh, that's right. They have to start double parking. This place is a load of crap, you think, and you can't wait to get out of here.
Climbing the stairs, you start to get nervous. Why did Brendon keep saying he needed you? What did he do? Is he okay? Shut the fuck up, you tell yourself, because racing thoughts right now isn't such a great idea. You open the door and walk straight back to your bedroom.
Brendon's in there. He's passed the fuck out and you smile. He's adorable when he sleeps, you think. His face is more relaxed than normal. Midnight comes in and jumps on the bed, landing on Brendon's head. "Oh, Midnight," you whisper, walking closer and picking her up. "You don't sleep on somebody's head. It's rude!"
Suddenly you realized you're giving the fucking cat advice, when really there's no need. She's gonna do whatever she wants, whether you or Brendon like it or not. You laugh at yourself and shake your head, kissing Midnight's slender, furry body. You set her back down on the bed, and she jumps on Brendon's stomach.
You pull your jeans off, along with your shirt, and get in the bed, also. The bed is warm, Brendon's warm, but you're cold, and you don't want to be a bitch and wake him up. Shit, you just did. The cold skin of your body touching his hot skin woke him up. "Fuck, Ryan, you're freezing."
"Tell me something I didn't know."
"Our cat is a lesbian."
You look at Brendon's oddly. "What the fucking hell, Brendon?"
"Seriously! She is! Today I took her outside with me after you left and we were just sitting there, but this other girl cat walked up and Midnight tried to rape her!"
When you look at Midnight, laughing, is seems like she's smiling because it's true. "Brendon, can cats even be anything but straight?"
"I don't know, but how amazing would it be to have fucking gay cats! Shit, Ryan, let's have some animal babies!"
"Woah now," you say. "One cat is enough; I don't need another."
"Aw, but they're so cute and fuzzy!"
"Brendon go to sleep. We'll discuss this in the morning."
He kisses your neck, your cheek, your chest, and then finally your lips. You don't want sex tonight; the mood died when you left the house. You just want to sleep and cuddle and kiss your husband without taking it to sex. "Night," he finally whispers in your ear before kissing you once more.
"Night," you reply, kissing him back.
-----
The next morning, Brendon's out of the bed before you are. It's strange, too, because between the two of you, Brendon always sleeps the latest. You get out of bed and walk into the living room. Brendon's sitting on the couch, mid-bite of Cinammon Toast Crunch, and he's staring at you. When you look at the clock on the stove, it reads 8:47. What the fucking hell.
"Morning," he says happily. "I got up early because of that appointment."
You smile and kiss his cheek, sitting down beside him. "Well I'm glad you're willingly going. I thought I was gonna have to drag your ass there."
"Nah, I'm sick of feeling like this. I want help."
"I'm glad," you say once more. "Now hurry up so we can leave. We've gotta be there soon, baby."
"Okay," he says, taking another bite of his cereal and getting up. He walks past the worn out, black couch and into the too-small, messy kitchen. He washes his bowl out -- something he never does -- and puts it in the diswasher before going to get dressed.
Impressive.
"I'm ready," he says ten minutes later. The doctors appointment is in twenty minutes, and it takes fifteen to get there. Not too bad. "Let's go."
He wraps his arm around your waist as the two of you head for the car. He opens the driver door for you, letting you get in and start the car, before heading for the passenger side. You pull out of spot number fifty-two and drive towards your destination.
Brendon blares Three Days Grace the whole way there. It was fine the for the first six minutes, but they got annoying after a while. You shut off the radio and he looks at you. "What was that for?"
"I have a headache." His voice is driving me up the wall.
"Sorry."
You stare at the street in front of you. Only a couple more minutes and you'll be there, and Brendon'll be getting the help he needs. You like that he's willing to come and get help, and that he's admitting he has a problem. Thinking of this makes you smile.
You pull into the parking lot for his office, parking in the third spot from the door. When you get out, you immediately walk over to Brendon and lace your hand with his.
The walls are a light blue, the couch is old and worn out, and the doctor looks like he could fall over dead at anytime. "Mr. Urie," he says, looking at Brendon. "Your, eh, husband has informed me of these constant fights. What are they about?"
"The smallest of things. We could argue over what side of the bed we sleep on and we wouldn't talk for a day or so."
"And why is this?"
"You're the doctor, you tell me."
"Mr. Urie, have you ever been diagnosed with Bipolar type I or II?"
"No sir."
"Mhm," he says, writing something on his clipboard. "Tell about how you've been feeling as of late."
"Ugh, like shit."
"Why?"
"My best friend has been avoiding and ignoring me for a year. I found out recently that he's been going to our neighbors apartment and eating their food and stuff."
"And this is why you feel bad?"
"Yes."
"Would you say you're depressed?"
"I don't know. How would I?"
"Well have you changed your eating habits? For example, do you eat less?"
"Yeah."
"You're moody, also, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"Are you blocking others out."
"Kind of."
"Then I know exactly what's wrong. Mr. Urie I'm prescribing you anti-depressants. I want you to take two a day, once in the morning and once before bed. I want you to make another appointment as soon as the bottle is empty, okay?"
"O-okay," he says, looking at you in disappointment. You don't know why he's looking at you that way. It's not like he's let you down. You love him, medicine or not.
"I want to have a weekly session, too. Brendon, I don't believe you're depressed. I'm trying to stop it before you do get depressed; this is all just a precaution."
"Okay," he says once more. "Are we done yet?"
"Yeah, we are. I'll see you next Thursday."
You pull Brendon out of the chair, out of the room, out of the building. Once you're standing outside and by your car, you pull him into a hug and he cries. You rub his back and hold his shaking body in your arms. "Shh, it's okay, Bren. You're okay."
He cries for a few more minutes, but you don't let go. You hate to see him cry, you hate to see him sad, but this isn't something to be sad over. It's stopping something before it happens, and that something isn't anything too horrible.
"I'm sorry," he says into your ear after pulling away.
"Don't be, baby. Everything'll be fine, you'll see. Brendon, this isn't the end of anything," you say looking into his eyes. "This is just a beginning of a happier life for you and I both."
"I know," he whispers. You place a quick kiss on his lips before climbing into the car.
~~~
Sooooo. This would have been posted soon but somebodies DEATH got in the way and yeah. Don't really wanna talk about it. But sorry to victoria4_xo because I needed to get this out and I let somebody else beta. Other than that I hoped you enjoyed this. <33