There's a Reason They Call It a Crush (2/2)
Part One
Spencer and Ryan knew about Tom, of course, thanks to Brendon constantly talking about him. They’d even gone to Starbucks together to see him for themselves, but it took two weeks after Brendon started actually hanging out with him for Brendon to introduce them.
The reason for that lapse was a combination of Ryan’s love of Modern American poetry and the fact that Spencer tended to be over protective of Brendon, ever since the misunderstanding that Brendon had the first time he’d hooked up. Apparently some dudes have things that they consider to be “too gay” and when Brendon made the mistake of initiating one of those things…it didn’t end well. For his face, mostly, and his ego.
Also, Ryan once confessed to Brendon that Spencer had only recently had the growth spurt that shot him up over six feet, and he enjoyed using his newfound body mass to full effect. Brendon did appreciate it, most of the time. Before college, he’d never had friends who cared enough to kick the shit out of someone for him. It felt kind of nice.
Still, Brendon would rather that Spencer didn’t attack Tom for forgetting about Brendon’s extra whipped cream, if at all possible.
“He’s a nice guy,” Brendon was saying as they walked down the block to the Starbucks.
“So you’ve said,” Spencer answered. He did not look any less surly.
Brendon sent pleading eyes Ryan’s way, but he was watching Spencer with that stupid, besotted smile that meant he wasn’t going to be any help whatsoever. Brendon needed to start making friends with people who weren’t already dating.
Thank goodness for Jon. Oh, hey, that reminded him.
“You’ll get to meet Jon too!” Brendon said.
“Hot Starbucks Guy’s friend?” Ryan asked.
“Tom, okay? I’ve retired that nickname,” Brendon said. “And yes, his roommate, the one I’ve been hanging out with.” He nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “They both have beards too. You guys could bond over those little brushes you like so much.”
Spencer rolled his eyes, but he was grinning, which definitely a win, and perfectly timed to coincide with them walking in the coffee shop.
“Brendon!” Jon called when they walked in, waving him over. “Come here, you have to try these and tell me which one is better. I’m trying some new ideas for Halloween.” He handed Brendon an insulated cup.
Brendon sniffed at the small sip hole and then took a tentative drink. It tasted like pumpkin-flavored coffee, strong but good. Brendon hummed happily and took another drink. “This is good.”
Jon’s face lit up. “Really? Okay, wait, take a drink of water, here.” He passed Brendon a plastic cup of water, which Brendon finished in two long swallows. “Now this one.” Another insulated cup. Brendon tried the coffee with a lot less trepidation this time, and wasn’t disappointed.
This one was the same pumpkin-flavored coffee, but it had something extra in it that Brendon couldn’t name, but that almost made his eyes roll back in his head, it was so good.
“Oh my god,” Brendon said. “Oh my god.”
“You like it?” Jon asked.
“Like it?” Brendon demanded. “I want you to make this for me every day for the rest of my life. Oh my god.” He turned to Ryan and Spencer. “You guys have to try this. Wait, but not mine.” He clutched the drink protectively against him and picked up the first cup Jon gave him. “Here, you can have this one.”
Ryan rolled his eyes, but he took the cup from Brendon and took a sip. “Hey, this is good.”
“Thanks,” Jon said and then pointed at him. “Okay, wait, let me guess. Ryan, right? And you’re Spencer?”
“Yes, and you’re Jon,” Spencer said, nodding down at his nametag.
“I am,” Jon said. “Brendon talks about you two all the time.”
“Pshh,” Brendon said airily. “Only to complain about how annoying you both are. I mean, pinstripes and paisley, Ryan, really?”
“I like the contrast,” Ryan said, tugging at the bottom of his brown vest.
“Sure, well, who wouldn’t?” Jon said, sounding sincere. “What can I get for you, Spencer?”
“I think I’ll try one of your experiments,” Spencer said.
“I know I’m going to like you already. Just for that, you’re getting it on the house.”
“In that case, I know I’m going to like you too,” Spencer responded.
“Part of my plan,” Jon said, tapping the end of his nose. “You’ll all become assimilated.”
“You’re so good to me, Jon, seriously. Taking care of my friends,” Brendon said. He leaned forward, beckoning Jon closer and whispered, “So is Tom here?”
Jon straightened and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. He’s in the back taking stock. Want me to grab him?”
“But act, you know, cool about it.” Brendon laughed at himself. “Please, as if I have to tell you that. It’s like reminding normal people to keep breathing.”
“I’ll be right back,” Jon said.
“Isn’t he awesome?” Brendon asked when Jon left.
Ryan shook his head. “Brendon…”
“What?” Brendon asked, feeling suddenly defensive. How did Ryan not love Jon? He gave him free coffee, what else did he need to do, donate a kidney?
“Nothing,” Spencer said. He and Ryan had one of their creepy eyebrow conversations and Ryan sighed.
“He’s nice, Bren,” Ryan said.
“Well, now I don’t believe you,” Brendon said suspiciously and took a drink out of his cup. Delicious pumpkin-flavored coffee! That was another thing to love Jon for. He was going to make Ryan a list.
The door opened before he could start. He put the coffee on the counter and stood up straighter before thinking better of it and slouching down. A hand came out and snatched his coffee right as his elbow was about to make contact with it. Brendon turned and gave Spencer a grateful look.
“Hey, Brendon,” Tom said.
“Hey,” Brendon said. “How’s it going?”
“Doing a double today,” Tom answered.
“That sucks,” Brendon said, wrinkling his nose.
Tom shrugged, slinging a towel over his shoulder. “Well, the beer won’t buy itself.”
“It won’t?” Brendon asked, pouting. “Man, twenty-one is going to be such a letdown.”
Jon came up behind Tom and handed Spencer his coffee. “Here, Spencer.”
“Thanks, Jon,” Spencer said, accepting the cup and taking a sip. “Damn, this is good.”
“What is it?” Tom asked.
“My pumpkin coffee,” Jon answered. “Brendon and his friends like it.” Jon looked at them. “He refused to try it.”
“I’ve had some of the shit he’s put together before. Is mango coffee ringing a bell?” Tom asked pointedly.
Jon winced. “Yeah, that didn’t end too well. I thought the puree would…never mind.”
Tom wiped his hands on his towel. “Anyway, I’ve got to get back to the inventory. Our manager’s a fucking lunatic about it. Talk to you later, Brendon. And uh…” He looked next to Brendon.
“Oh! These are my friends, Spencer and Ryan.” He pointed to each on in turn.
“Those are the ones he’s always talking about,” Jon said.
Tom glanced at Jon. “Right. Well, it was nice meeting you guys.”
He walked back out the door that he came through, marked “Employees Only” while Brendon watched.
“Did the Earth move?” Jon asked.
Brendon blushed. “Shut up, I just wanted Spencer and Ryan to meet him.”
“And?” Jon said, looking at them curiously. “Have you fallen in love with him too? I bet he’d be open to some threeway action.”
Brendon gasped and covered his ears. “I’m not listening to that lalala.”
Spencer shoved his shoulder a moment later. “Stop humming, you look like an idiot.”
“Your face looks like an idiot,” Brendon muttered. “Come on, let’s sit down and actually work on this project.”
Ryan had convinced Spencer and Brendon to join a 200-level English class to fulfill their upper level Language Arts credit, and it was proving more trouble than it was worth. Who assigned group projects in an English class?
They found an empty table. Spencer pulled out his laptop, Ryan and Brendon grabbed the forty billion books they would need for reference and they got to work.
*
Three hours later, Brendon felt like his eyes were going to fall out of his head.
“I can’t, okay? I can’t read any more about Sylvia Plath. I’m going to put my head in an oven soon.” Brendon shut his book of poetry with a decisive slam and laid his forehead on it. His foot was tapping an impatient rhythm against the floor that his fingers joined in, drumming against the tabletop.
“Fine, fine,” Ryan said, lunging over the table and slamming his hands over Brendon’s to still them, “but we’re working on it again sometime this week. We’ve only got two weeks.”
“Good, great, whatever,” Brendon said. He would agree to pretty much anything at this point.
“Let’s go,” Spencer said, cleaning up the mess of books on and around their table. Brendon could tell by the tone of his voice that he was just as relieved as Brendon was to be finished for the day.
Brendon slung his backpack over his shoulders and waved at Jon behind the counter. Tom hadn’t come out from the stock room in the whole time they were there, which was another reason why Brendon was so jittery. How long could inventory actually take?
“Oh, hey, are you guys going?” Jon asked.
“Yes, thank god,” Brendon said.
“I’m off now. Mind if I walk with you guys?”
Brendon glanced quickly at Spencer and Ryan and then shrugged. “Sure. We’re going to their place, though. It’s right down the block.”
“I have to get to the bus stop on Milwaukee,” Jon said. “I have class in an hour.”
“What are you majoring in?” Spencer asked as they made their way out of the store.
“Film,” Jon answered.
“Do you want to be a director or something?” Spencer asked.
Jon shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, maybe? I’ve done some short films that have been okay. I haven’t decided on anything yet.”
“Aren’t you a senior?” Spencer asked, to which Ryan gave a soft, amused, “Spence.”
“Back off with the third degree,” Brendon agreed. “What are you, his mother?”
“Just curious,” Spencer answered with a careless shrug. “Anyway, this is our building.”
Ryan, Brendon and Spencer all started up the splintered wooden steps. Brendon turned back and gave Jon and wave and smile that Jon returned. “Have fun in class!”
“See you later, Brendon,” Jon said.
*
“I hate poetry,” Brendon intoned, deadly serious. “And I hate you, Ryan Ross. Come on, guys, it’ll be an easy A.” He was sprawled over their couch, one arm thrown over his eyes and the other clutching an e.e. cummings anthology.
Their stupid project was due on Monday. It was Saturday night and they still have a good thirty pages to write. Brendon hated everything.
His phone vibrated and he shoved his hand in his pocket to dig it out. It was a text message from Jon. He opened it and read what it said.
almost done with your work?/is ryan still being a jerk?
Brendon snorted and clicked reply.
beautiful poem. best way to kill myself: suffocate in a pillow or jump off the balcony?
An answer came within a minute.
going that good, huh? don’t they live on the second floor? jumping probably wouldn’t work.
Brendon replied again, ignoring Spencer’s glare.
good point. suffocation it is then. good bye cruel world.
When Jon didn’t reply within a couple of minutes, Brendon huffed out an annoyed breath and shoved the phone back in his pocket.
“Are you done talking to your boyfriend?” Spencer asked.
Brendon yawned and shifted so that he was on his side with his head resting on his open palm. “I wasn’t, that was Jon.”
Spencer rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I was just saying that we could do a whole part comparing and contrasting Claude McKay with Langston Hughes. Like, their form and the reasons they had for writing the way that they did.”
“No, no,” Ryan argued. “We already did a compare and contrast with cummings and Eliot. We can’t do the same thing twice.”
Brendon rolled over and shoved his face into the couch cushion.
*
Twenty minutes later, Ryan and Spencer were still arguing about what to do for McKay and Hughes, and Brendon still wasn’t paying any attention. The suffocation thing didn’t work, because it was really hard to stop breathing for so long. He did get kind of lightheaded once, though.
When his phone rang - the Shakira ringtone that Jon picked for himself - Brendon scrambled to answer it in the face of Ryan and Spencer’s twin pissy looks.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, pushing the green button. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Jon’s voice answered him. “I’m here, let me in.”
“What?” Brendon asked, jumping off the couch and heading for the door. The buzzer rang, startling him.
“I’m here,” Jon repeated. “Unlock the security door.”
Brendon pressed the security release next to the intercom. “Okay,” he said.
“Thanks. Be up in a minute.” The line went dead.
Brendon snapped his phone shut and turned to his friends. “Um, Jon’s here. He’s coming up.”
“We’re busy,” Ryan complained.
“We’ve been doing this six hours and we have all day tomorrow,” Brendon said. “I demand a half an hour break.”
“A break from lying on the couch doing nothing?” Spencer asked drolly, his eyebrow rising.
“A break from listening to you two bicker,” Brendon shot back.
There was a knock on the door before either of them could respond, and Brendon threw open the door. Jon stood in front of him in jeans and a hoodie with the hood pulled up. In his hands were four cups of coffee in a holder and a paper bag.
“Oh my god, Jon Walker, I love you!” Brendon cried, stepping aside to let him in.
“Is that coffee?” Ryan called from his place on the living room floor. “I think I love you too.”
“Figured you guys could use some caffeine,” Jon answered. “I also brought some lemon squares and chocolate peanut butter rice krispy treats.”
“Food of the gods,” Brendon proclaimed. “Put it on the coffee table, over here.” He directed Jon to the table and slammed shut a book Ryan was reading, catching his fingers in the process.
“Hey!” Ryan cried.
“Mandatory thirty minute study break, Ross. Starting now. Gimme the remote.”
He somehow managed to balance a cup of coffee, rice krispy treat and the remote in his hands all at once before falling back on the couch. Jon sat down next to him, and Brendon immediately maneuvered himself under his arm.
“Best friend ever,” he declared as he flipped channels, before stopping on one showing a familiar set and tossing the remote on the empty couch cushion. “Ha! Look! Home Improvement. I bet you’re glad we’re taking that break now.”
*
“So how’d it go?” Jon asked when Brendon walked into Starbucks on Monday after his class. He was alone because Ryan had all but collapsed after they finished and Spencer had promised him a victory blowjob. Brendon escaped as fast as possible.
“I don’t know about the written part. The presentation went okay though. Ryan and Spencer did most of the talking. I held up the visual aids.” He demonstrated his technique with a pamphlet at the counter.
“Well, I’m impressed,” Jon said.
“As you should be,” Brendon agreed. “As well you should be. I need something strong.”
“So what are your plans for Thanksgiving?” Jon asked as he got to work mixing and…brewing…and whatever else it was that he did.
“Fly home on Friday, sleep for a thousand years, eat turkey, fly back. You?”
“About the same,” Jon said, “just without the flying.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters to deal with?” Brendon asked.
“Two brothers,” Jon said. “But they don’t live at home.”
“I should have known it would be all boys from that hearty Walker stock,” Brendon said.
Jon looked at him. “I…have no idea what that means, actually.”
“Me neither,” Brendon admitted. “I think I might be delirious from lack of sleep.”
“Well, this should help with that,” Jon said. He handed Brendon the cup with a wink.
Brendon took a sip and barely contained his surprised cough. It was strong all right, but that definitely wasn’t just coffee.
“Yeah, it should. Thanks.”
“Could I have one of those?”
Brendon turned to find a guy, tall and thin with rumpled blonde hair leaning against the counter.
“Um, it’s just a triple shot of espresso,” Jon said. He cut a quick look over at Brendon.
“Sounds good,” the guy said. He gave Jon a slow smile that made something in Brendon’s stomach twist.
“It’ll take me a minute, hang on,” Jon said.
“I’m Chris, by the way,” the guy said. “I see you working here a lot.”
“Chris, you already have something to drink,” Brendon said, pointing to the half-empty cup in his hand.
The guy shrugged, not looking away from Jon, “I have a test tomorrow. Some more caffeine couldn’t hurt.”
“Well, here you go,” Jon said, presenting the guy with his cup and totaling it up on the register. “That’s $4.08.”
The guy pulled out exact change from his jeans - who even does that? - and accepted the cup. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Chris,” Jon said, and then smiled at him. He smiled at him, and that guy smiled back, and they just stood there smiling at each other.
After like four hours of watching them stare at each other, Brendon cleared his throat. “Um, are you done?” he asked the guy. “Because we were talking.”
The guy looked between him and Jon, probably getting totally the wrong impression, but whatever, and said, “Oh, yeah, I’m done. See you around, Jon.”
“See you,” Jon replied. “Have a nice day!”
Brendon watched the guy slink away with a satisfaction that faded as soon as he stepped out the door. Sure, he was creepy with his I see you working here and his eyefucking, but who knew what Jon’s type was. Maybe he liked creepy. Brendon was just about to apologize, or maybe even run out and call the guy back, when he noticed that Jon was watching him with a smile, small and pleased. So he must not have liked him after all.
“That guy was creepy,” Brendon declared.
“Sure,” he said.
Brendon was about to ask him what he meant by that when the bell over the door jingled and Tom walked in.
“Brendon! Just the person I wanted to see,” he said.
Brendon gripped the counter tightly with one hand and used the other to point to himself. “Me? I’m the person you wanted to see?”
“I figured you’d show up at some point today. You’re coming to the show on the nineteenth, right? At the Metro?” Tom clocked in as he spoke, pulling a green apron out from under the counter.
“That’s this Wednesday, right? Of course,” Brendon said.
“Cool, I figured you were,” Tom said, “so I put you on the guest list. That way you don’t have to wait in line, and you can hang with us backstage before.”
Brendon’s whole body froze. Tom was putting him on the guest list. He was putting him on the guest list.
“Oh, cool,” he said, trying to remain calm.
“And we’re all going over to Alfred’s afterward. You should come with.”
Tom ducked his head to tie the apron around his waist, and Brendon immediately looked for Jon to make holy shit! eyes at him. He must have gone into the back room for something, though, because he wasn’t there.
Still, though. Holy shit.
*
“And then he said, ‘I’m putting you on the guest list,’” Brendon said.
“That’s, like, the third time you’ve told me,” Ryan said.
Brendon frowned at the phone. “Why aren’t you happy for me?”
“I am happy for you,” Ryan argued. “Spencer and I are even going to come with this time.”
“What? No!” Brendon cried. Was Ryan crazy? “Are you crazy?”
“What? You begged last time,” Ryan said.
“Yeah, but I didn’t know anyone then. And he hadn’t put me on the guest list then either. Seriously, four’s an orgy, and I don’t think our relationship is ready for that yet.”
“How are you going to get there then?” Ryan asked.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard about this new technology called the Electric Train, but apparently people can use it to get almost anywhere in the city. Anyway, I’ll probably get Jon to drive me there.”
“Oh, so Jon can go, but we can’t,” Ryan said.
“Jon is Tom’s best friend, of course he’s going.”
*
“Jon,” Brendon said into the phone. “Jon, you have to come here and help me.”
“What’s wrong?” Jon said.
“You have to come by. I’m freaking out, okay? I don’t even know what to wear. And it’s so stupid, because who cares, right? I think I might be having a panic attack here.” Jon didn’t say anything, so Brendon continued, feeling himself get more and more worked up as he went on. “This is my big night, Jon, and if I ask Ryan to help me, I’ll end up wearing a paisley vest, polka dot shoes and, like, three necklaces from Claire’s. Don’t get me wrong, that look works for him, it does, but he and I are two different people. You’re Tom’s best friend, Jon, you have to - “
“Christ, Urie, fine. I’m coming over now, okay?” Jon said, sounding exasperated. Whatever, Brendon was used to that in his normal human interactions anyway.
“Thank you, thank you. I owe you, seriously.”
*
“I don’t have anything to flip out about,” Brendon said, more to himself than to Jon. “I’m hot.” He spun around and faced Jon, gesturing down his body. “I’m hot, right?”
Jon rolled his eyes. “Yes, Brendon, you’re hot.”
“Plus, you’ll be there the whole time, which is good, because - ”
“No I won’t.”
Brendon stopped pacing around the tiny dorm room and looked at Jon. “What?”
“I don’t feel good. I told the guys I’m not gonna go.”
Brendon waved his hands in the air as something sick settled in the pit of his stomach. “What do you mean, you’re not going? I thought it was a requirement!”
Jon shrugged, pulling out his cell phone and idly punching a few keys. “I have a headache. I didn’t think it was a good idea to go to a concert.”
“That’s true, I guess. Shit, I’m sorry I made you come all the way over here. Do you want an aspirin or something?”
Jon waved away Brendon’s concern. “Forget it. It’s your big day, right?”
“It is,” Brendon said, getting back on track. “It is my big day, and I was thinking I’d just wear my favorite Radiohead shirt.” He threw open his tiny closet and grabbed the shirt from one of the shelves. Pulling off the shirt he had on and tossing it in the closet, he turned to face Jon as he put the Radiohead one on and smoothed it down his chest. “What do you think?”
Jon stared at the logo without speaking a moment, and then said, “I…”
“You don’t like it,” Brendon concluded, pulling the shirt back up and over his head.
“No, no,” Jon said. “It looks fine. No one is going to care what shirt you’re wearing. And Tom loves Radiohead. It’s fine, seriously.”
Brendon stared down at the shirt another moment before pulling it back over his head. He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it forward and then grinned at Jon, though he knew it had to look manic.
“Okay, I guess I’m ready.” He shifted from one foot to the other and tapped his fingers against his thighs. “Yup, ready.”
“You’re still freaking out,” Jon commented, and Brendon barked out a laugh.
“Tom’s like this big rock star, right?” Brendon said. Jon snorted and raised his eyebrows. “No, he is. He’s in a band that’s playing the Metro tonight. And he has, like, fans that follow him around and ask for his autograph and shit, and I just…” He combed his fingers through his hair again, a nervous tic he’d never been able to get rid of. “Not to count my chickens or jump the gun or anything, but I don’t know if I’m a very good kisser. Of guys.” He snuck a look up at Jon to see if he was still laughing at him, but he was watching Brendon seriously, so continued. “The first time was bad. Like really, epically bad. So bad that sometimes I’m surprised it didn’t just knock the gayness right out of me, to be honest. The other times after that weren’t bad, necessarily, nothing like the first one, but still the guys weren’t exactly - um -“
Brendon trailed off when he realized that Jon was standing much, much closer to him than he had been a minute ago. “What are you doing?” he asked.
Jon didn’t answer. Instead, he wrapped one hand around the back of Brendon’s neck and tugged him forward until their lips met. Brendon went still in shock, but Jon’s mouth was soft and damp and coaxed Brendon’s more inexperienced one into action. Brendon threw an arm around Jon’s shoulders and pulled him closer, moaning into the kiss and letting Jon’s tongue dip shallowly into his mouth.
He could now say with certainty that he’d been right - his other kisses had sucked, especially compared to this. His hand was pushed under the material of Jon’s shirt, ready to slip higher, when Jon put his hands on Brendon’s arms and pushed away from him.
Brendon’s mouth followed Jon’s instinctively, his eyes tracing the wet, red line of it. Jon took another step back and dropped his hands away from Brendon.
“You, uh.” Jon cleared his throat. “You know how to kiss. You’ll be fine.”
“What?” Brendon asked. He blinked a few times to try and make the world make sense again.
“Yeah,” Jon replied, agreeing with something Brendon didn’t think he said. “My head is killing me, so I’m gonna go. Good luck tonight.” He left so quickly that Brendon didn’t have time to say a word.
“What?” he demanded of the empty room.
*
Brendon could barely remember the trip to the Metro on the El. He kept thinking back to that kiss, and Jon’s face after. The way that he just left Brendon alone in his room. It played in his head on a loop, over and over. Kissing, staring, leaving. Kissing, staring, leaving.
He barely avoided missing his stop.
The walk to the Metro from the El stop was a short one, and Tom kept his promise to put him on the guest list, so he got to go right in.
Alfred saw him first and gave a wave. His arm was around a woman that Brendon remembered as the girl in the slinky black dress from Tom’s party.
“Hey, where is everyone else?” Brendon asked.
“Dressing room, probably. Did you get your backstage pass? You could just go back there.”
Brendon patted the sticker that the doorman had given him. “Okay, thanks.”
As he made his way through the people, his mind once again drifted to what had happened earlier. He touched his lips with two fingers and sighed. Kiss, stare, leave.
He was let backstage with no problems and found the dressing room with the band’s name on it quickly. Could Jon possibly…but no, he had been talking about how nervous he was, so Jon was just being a good friend. But then, why did he leave?
Brendon was barely paying any attention when he pushed open the partially closed door to the dressing room, too lost in his own thoughts.
“Shit!”
Brendon was jostled back to Earth by the sight of Tom and Sean scrambling away from each other. Sean’s shirt was unbuttoned and Tom’s mouth was red and dark.
“Um,” Brendon said, taking an involuntary step back.
“Brendon, god, why didn’t you knock?” Sean demanded.
“You - the door was open,” Brendon said. His eyes were glued to Tom, running a shaking hand through his hair and rubbing his mouth with the back of his fist. Brendon’s heart gave a weak lurch, but other than that, he couldn’t think of anything except…
“Why didn’t Jon tell me?” he wondered, more to himself than the other two people in the room.
“He doesn’t know,” Tom explained, holding his hands up and looking earnestly at Brendon. “No one knows yet. Anyway, why should he tell you?”
“No reason,” Brendon said, semi-hysterically. “Just, you know, in conversation.”
“Look, you won’t tell him, will you?” Sean asked.
Brendon shook his head as he backed out of the room. “I won’t.”
*
“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, pressing a bottle of water into his hands.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Brendon said. “Honestly, it doesn’t feel bad at all.” He shook his head. “I must be in shock or something. I can’t…”
“What?” Spencer asked.
“Nothing. It’s just…this has been a really weird day.”
“Sounds like it,” Ryan said.
“No. I mean, yes, but something else happened too,” Brendon said. “He…Jon came over earlier today. I was nervous, you know, so I called him. Anyway, we were talking, and I told him that I was worried about kissing Tom, which is - “ Brendon laughed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Pretty hilarious now, but at the time…”
“And?” Ryan prompted.
“And Jon kissed me. I mean, he walked right up to me and didn’t say a word. Just kissed me.” He looked up at their faces to gauge their reactions.
“Brendon,” Ryan said, sitting next to him on the couch and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Brendon laid his head against Ryan’s shoulder and shut his eyes. “Brendon, the first time we met Jon, he was practically falling all over himself trying to impress us. He brought us snacks when we were killing ourselves finishing that project on Saturday. You talk to him every day. Hell, you probably see him more than you see us at this point.”
“He’s my friend,” Brendon said.
Spencer appeared in front of him. “Things I know about Jon Walker: he’s a film major, he works at Starbucks, he has two cats named Dylan and Clover, he makes the best coffee ever.” The last bit was said in a truly terrible impression of Brendon’s voice. Seriously, since when was Brendon British? “He loves Muse, makes awesome pancakes, has two brothers, his favorite video game is Halo 3, his favorite movie is Pulp Fiction, his iPod has even more music than yours, his favorite food is mac and cheese with chicken in it, he once drank a whole bottle of Jack Daniels in one night without even throwing up, he’s just the most awesome guy…”
“I get it, Spencer,” Brendon said, cutting him off.
“Things I know about Tom Conrad: he’s a photography major, he works at Starbucks, he’s in a band and he’s the hottest guy you’ve ever seen. Oh, and he lives with Jon Walker. Anything else, Ryan?”
“I think he has a dog,” Ryan said.
“That’s right, a dog with a stupid name,” Spencer said.
“Bear is not a stupid name,” Brendon said. “And I know a lot about Tom, okay? I know the classes he’s in and his birthday and…” Now that he thought about it, though, all the stuff he knew about him came from his Facebook profile. “We don’t talk much, that’s all. I mean, obviously he was busy with Sean that whole time.”
“Yeah,” Ryan said softly. “And Jon was busy with you.”
“I don’t…” Brendon started, but he couldn’t finish, because suddenly all these little details that he hadn’t noticed were coming back to him. God, Jon had been trying to impress Ryan and Spencer that day, how had Brendon missed that?
“He kissed you, Brendon. Come on,” Spencer said.
“I don’t,” he said again, and then abruptly stood up, throwing Ryan’s arm off of him. It was Jon. It has always been Jon. “I have to…”
“Good luck,” Spencer said as Brendon made his way to the door.
Brendon opened it and turned around. “Ryan, any advice?”
“Don’t fuck it up,” Ryan said.
*
Brendon made the twenty-minute walk to Jon’s house in seven minutes, and was ringing the doorbell before he’d even caught his breath.
Jon answered it in sweatpants and a t-shirt, beer in hand.
“Brendon,” he said, surprised.
“Can I come in?” Brendon asked, pushing past him and into the house. The coffee table was full of empty beer bottles and a rerun of MASH was playing on the television.
“What are you doing here? Is Tom with you?” Jon asked.
“No, he’s still at the show. I left,” Brendon said.
“Why?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Brendon said, and he laughed a little when he realized he meant it. It really didn’t matter. Because it was Jon - his beard and his flip flops and the soft way he slurred his s’s.
“Are you okay? Did something happen?” Jon asked, looking concerned now, probably because Brendon was standing in his living room, cackling at him like a crazy person.
“I’m great, and something…something did happen. You kissed me, Jon.”
Jon ducked his head, and Brendon followed his gaze down to his bare toes. “You wanted to know if you were any good.”
“You kissed me,” Brendon repeated, taking a tentative step closer. “The best kiss of my life, and then you left.”
Jon’s eyes shot up, and the look he gave was one Brendon recognized but had never understood. He could read it easily now, with his blinders - his fucking Tom Conrad blinders - gone. It was a mixture of nerves, amusement and cautious hope.
“Really? The best kiss of your life?” Jon asked.
“Really,” he confirmed. “Jon, I like Tom - no, listen!” Brendon added hastily when Jon’s expression went blank and he took a step away. “I like Tom, but it would never work out with two of us. For…” He swallowed the urge to snicker, because it was not the time, but only barely just. “For a lot of different reasons, but mostly because I’m kind of in love with you.”
That look was awe, pure and simple, and Brendon wondered what Jon saw on his own face.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” Jon asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
“I think I’m in love with you. Not to be, you know, creepy or anything, but you’re amazing, Jon. I’ve been such a jerk to you too, and I would understand it if you were pissed at me or didn’t like me back. But, okay, I lied, something else did happen today. I don’t want to go into detail, but I’ll say that I had a talk with Tom that should have broken my heart. It should have, but the only thing I could think about was you and that kiss and how you left. And this isn’t the only reason - there’s seriously like a million. Even as I’m talking I keep thinking up more - but oh my god, you’re so hot, Jon, holy shit - “
“Okay, stop talking now,” Jon said, smiling, before he framed Brendon’s face with his hands and pulled him in for a kiss.
*
“Aren’t the other guys going to be mad if they come home and find us?” Brendon asked, some time later when they were both lying on the living room floor. “Some things friends don’t need to know?”
Jon propped his head up on one fist and smiled down at Brendon. “Who cares? Anyway, they’re at that party. They won’t be home for hours.”
“So you’re gonna teach me how to give blowjobs like that, right? I thought mine were okay, but I see now that they’ve been extremely subpar - “
“I’m not complaining,” Jon said.
“But there’s always room to grow,” Brendon said. “I want to learn, Jon. Would you deny my thirst for knowledge?”
“Never,” Jon promised. “At least not when it comes to my dick.”
“See, that’s smart thinking.” Brendon hummed happily and snuggled closer when Jon began threading his fingers through Brendon’s hair, pushing his head into Jon’s hand. “Oh, yes, please.”
“I think I’ve found your weakness,” Jon said, laughter evident in his voice.
“You have. Will you use it against me?” Brendon asked.
“Are you kidding? Shamelessly,” Jon said.
“Awesome,” Brendon said, already anticipating it.
“You know,” Jon said, scratching at the short, sensitive hairs on the back of Brendon’s neck and making Brendon’s eyes drift shut in bliss, “I told Tom to invite you to that first concert at the Subterranean.”
“What?” Brendon forced his eyes open to look at Jon. “What do you mean?”
The tips of Jon’s ears turned pink as he spoke, which was fucking adorable. “You used to come in to Starbucks all the time and do homework. I saw your name on one of your assignments and found you on Facebook…”
Brendon gasped. “Jon, you Facebook-stalked me? That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard!”
Jon tugged on Brendon’s hair, and wow, they were really going to have to experiment with that more some time soon, because Brendon could feel his spent cock start to take a renewed interest in the activities.
“I saw that you were a music major, so I thought, you know, music major, concert. It would be a way to get to hang out with you. I didn’t realize you wanted Tom then, or I wouldn’t have done it.”
Lifting himself up, Brendon gently pushed at Jon’s shoulders until he laid flat on the carpeting. Then, he bent down and kissed him softly, pulling back after a moment to place a hand on Jon’s cheek. “I’m really sorry.”
“I know you are,” Jon said.
“I’m going to make it up to you,” Brendon promised.
“I know you are,” Jon said again, then grinned. “Hey, what time is it?”
Brendon squinted up at the digital clock on Jon’s DVD player. “Um, almost one-thirty, why?”
Jon pushed out from under Brendon and rolled himself to his feet.
“Where are you going?” Brendon demanded, making grabby hands.
“I’ll be right back,” Jon said. He walked across the living room and down the hallway that would take him to the kitchen. Brendon turned on his stomach and ogled Jon’s bare ass with interest.
“Oh baby,” he said, loud enough that Jon could hear him. “I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave.”
“You did not just say that,” Jon called from in the kitchen. Brendon heard the sound of the refrigerator opening above his snickering, and then Jon said, “Close your eyes!”
“Why?” Brendon asked.
“I have a surprise for you!” Jon said.
“Fine,” Brendon said, doing as he was told, “but if the surprise is ice or any kind of ice-like substance being put anywhere on my body…”
“It’s not, I swear,” Jon said, surprising Brendon with his closeness. “Okay, open them.”
Brendon crawled to his knees and opened his eyes. In front of him, Jon was holding a chocolate cake, still inside the white, paper Jewel box.
“What?” Brendon asked.
“It’s November twentieth,” Jon explained. “Happy gay-iversary.”
Brendon stared down at the cake and then up at Jon’s hopeful face. Somehow, with all the craziness going on in his life lately, he’d managed to forget about that.
“Thank you,” he said, carefully taking the cake out of Jon’s hands and placing it on the table.
Then, he went about celebrating his very first gay-iversary the right way.
Spencer and Ryan knew about Tom, of course, thanks to Brendon constantly talking about him. They’d even gone to Starbucks together to see him for themselves, but it took two weeks after Brendon started actually hanging out with him for Brendon to introduce them.
The reason for that lapse was a combination of Ryan’s love of Modern American poetry and the fact that Spencer tended to be over protective of Brendon, ever since the misunderstanding that Brendon had the first time he’d hooked up. Apparently some dudes have things that they consider to be “too gay” and when Brendon made the mistake of initiating one of those things…it didn’t end well. For his face, mostly, and his ego.
Also, Ryan once confessed to Brendon that Spencer had only recently had the growth spurt that shot him up over six feet, and he enjoyed using his newfound body mass to full effect. Brendon did appreciate it, most of the time. Before college, he’d never had friends who cared enough to kick the shit out of someone for him. It felt kind of nice.
Still, Brendon would rather that Spencer didn’t attack Tom for forgetting about Brendon’s extra whipped cream, if at all possible.
“He’s a nice guy,” Brendon was saying as they walked down the block to the Starbucks.
“So you’ve said,” Spencer answered. He did not look any less surly.
Brendon sent pleading eyes Ryan’s way, but he was watching Spencer with that stupid, besotted smile that meant he wasn’t going to be any help whatsoever. Brendon needed to start making friends with people who weren’t already dating.
Thank goodness for Jon. Oh, hey, that reminded him.
“You’ll get to meet Jon too!” Brendon said.
“Hot Starbucks Guy’s friend?” Ryan asked.
“Tom, okay? I’ve retired that nickname,” Brendon said. “And yes, his roommate, the one I’ve been hanging out with.” He nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “They both have beards too. You guys could bond over those little brushes you like so much.”
Spencer rolled his eyes, but he was grinning, which definitely a win, and perfectly timed to coincide with them walking in the coffee shop.
“Brendon!” Jon called when they walked in, waving him over. “Come here, you have to try these and tell me which one is better. I’m trying some new ideas for Halloween.” He handed Brendon an insulated cup.
Brendon sniffed at the small sip hole and then took a tentative drink. It tasted like pumpkin-flavored coffee, strong but good. Brendon hummed happily and took another drink. “This is good.”
Jon’s face lit up. “Really? Okay, wait, take a drink of water, here.” He passed Brendon a plastic cup of water, which Brendon finished in two long swallows. “Now this one.” Another insulated cup. Brendon tried the coffee with a lot less trepidation this time, and wasn’t disappointed.
This one was the same pumpkin-flavored coffee, but it had something extra in it that Brendon couldn’t name, but that almost made his eyes roll back in his head, it was so good.
“Oh my god,” Brendon said. “Oh my god.”
“You like it?” Jon asked.
“Like it?” Brendon demanded. “I want you to make this for me every day for the rest of my life. Oh my god.” He turned to Ryan and Spencer. “You guys have to try this. Wait, but not mine.” He clutched the drink protectively against him and picked up the first cup Jon gave him. “Here, you can have this one.”
Ryan rolled his eyes, but he took the cup from Brendon and took a sip. “Hey, this is good.”
“Thanks,” Jon said and then pointed at him. “Okay, wait, let me guess. Ryan, right? And you’re Spencer?”
“Yes, and you’re Jon,” Spencer said, nodding down at his nametag.
“I am,” Jon said. “Brendon talks about you two all the time.”
“Pshh,” Brendon said airily. “Only to complain about how annoying you both are. I mean, pinstripes and paisley, Ryan, really?”
“I like the contrast,” Ryan said, tugging at the bottom of his brown vest.
“Sure, well, who wouldn’t?” Jon said, sounding sincere. “What can I get for you, Spencer?”
“I think I’ll try one of your experiments,” Spencer said.
“I know I’m going to like you already. Just for that, you’re getting it on the house.”
“In that case, I know I’m going to like you too,” Spencer responded.
“Part of my plan,” Jon said, tapping the end of his nose. “You’ll all become assimilated.”
“You’re so good to me, Jon, seriously. Taking care of my friends,” Brendon said. He leaned forward, beckoning Jon closer and whispered, “So is Tom here?”
Jon straightened and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. He’s in the back taking stock. Want me to grab him?”
“But act, you know, cool about it.” Brendon laughed at himself. “Please, as if I have to tell you that. It’s like reminding normal people to keep breathing.”
“I’ll be right back,” Jon said.
“Isn’t he awesome?” Brendon asked when Jon left.
Ryan shook his head. “Brendon…”
“What?” Brendon asked, feeling suddenly defensive. How did Ryan not love Jon? He gave him free coffee, what else did he need to do, donate a kidney?
“Nothing,” Spencer said. He and Ryan had one of their creepy eyebrow conversations and Ryan sighed.
“He’s nice, Bren,” Ryan said.
“Well, now I don’t believe you,” Brendon said suspiciously and took a drink out of his cup. Delicious pumpkin-flavored coffee! That was another thing to love Jon for. He was going to make Ryan a list.
The door opened before he could start. He put the coffee on the counter and stood up straighter before thinking better of it and slouching down. A hand came out and snatched his coffee right as his elbow was about to make contact with it. Brendon turned and gave Spencer a grateful look.
“Hey, Brendon,” Tom said.
“Hey,” Brendon said. “How’s it going?”
“Doing a double today,” Tom answered.
“That sucks,” Brendon said, wrinkling his nose.
Tom shrugged, slinging a towel over his shoulder. “Well, the beer won’t buy itself.”
“It won’t?” Brendon asked, pouting. “Man, twenty-one is going to be such a letdown.”
Jon came up behind Tom and handed Spencer his coffee. “Here, Spencer.”
“Thanks, Jon,” Spencer said, accepting the cup and taking a sip. “Damn, this is good.”
“What is it?” Tom asked.
“My pumpkin coffee,” Jon answered. “Brendon and his friends like it.” Jon looked at them. “He refused to try it.”
“I’ve had some of the shit he’s put together before. Is mango coffee ringing a bell?” Tom asked pointedly.
Jon winced. “Yeah, that didn’t end too well. I thought the puree would…never mind.”
Tom wiped his hands on his towel. “Anyway, I’ve got to get back to the inventory. Our manager’s a fucking lunatic about it. Talk to you later, Brendon. And uh…” He looked next to Brendon.
“Oh! These are my friends, Spencer and Ryan.” He pointed to each on in turn.
“Those are the ones he’s always talking about,” Jon said.
Tom glanced at Jon. “Right. Well, it was nice meeting you guys.”
He walked back out the door that he came through, marked “Employees Only” while Brendon watched.
“Did the Earth move?” Jon asked.
Brendon blushed. “Shut up, I just wanted Spencer and Ryan to meet him.”
“And?” Jon said, looking at them curiously. “Have you fallen in love with him too? I bet he’d be open to some threeway action.”
Brendon gasped and covered his ears. “I’m not listening to that lalala.”
Spencer shoved his shoulder a moment later. “Stop humming, you look like an idiot.”
“Your face looks like an idiot,” Brendon muttered. “Come on, let’s sit down and actually work on this project.”
Ryan had convinced Spencer and Brendon to join a 200-level English class to fulfill their upper level Language Arts credit, and it was proving more trouble than it was worth. Who assigned group projects in an English class?
They found an empty table. Spencer pulled out his laptop, Ryan and Brendon grabbed the forty billion books they would need for reference and they got to work.
*
Three hours later, Brendon felt like his eyes were going to fall out of his head.
“I can’t, okay? I can’t read any more about Sylvia Plath. I’m going to put my head in an oven soon.” Brendon shut his book of poetry with a decisive slam and laid his forehead on it. His foot was tapping an impatient rhythm against the floor that his fingers joined in, drumming against the tabletop.
“Fine, fine,” Ryan said, lunging over the table and slamming his hands over Brendon’s to still them, “but we’re working on it again sometime this week. We’ve only got two weeks.”
“Good, great, whatever,” Brendon said. He would agree to pretty much anything at this point.
“Let’s go,” Spencer said, cleaning up the mess of books on and around their table. Brendon could tell by the tone of his voice that he was just as relieved as Brendon was to be finished for the day.
Brendon slung his backpack over his shoulders and waved at Jon behind the counter. Tom hadn’t come out from the stock room in the whole time they were there, which was another reason why Brendon was so jittery. How long could inventory actually take?
“Oh, hey, are you guys going?” Jon asked.
“Yes, thank god,” Brendon said.
“I’m off now. Mind if I walk with you guys?”
Brendon glanced quickly at Spencer and Ryan and then shrugged. “Sure. We’re going to their place, though. It’s right down the block.”
“I have to get to the bus stop on Milwaukee,” Jon said. “I have class in an hour.”
“What are you majoring in?” Spencer asked as they made their way out of the store.
“Film,” Jon answered.
“Do you want to be a director or something?” Spencer asked.
Jon shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, maybe? I’ve done some short films that have been okay. I haven’t decided on anything yet.”
“Aren’t you a senior?” Spencer asked, to which Ryan gave a soft, amused, “Spence.”
“Back off with the third degree,” Brendon agreed. “What are you, his mother?”
“Just curious,” Spencer answered with a careless shrug. “Anyway, this is our building.”
Ryan, Brendon and Spencer all started up the splintered wooden steps. Brendon turned back and gave Jon and wave and smile that Jon returned. “Have fun in class!”
“See you later, Brendon,” Jon said.
*
“I hate poetry,” Brendon intoned, deadly serious. “And I hate you, Ryan Ross. Come on, guys, it’ll be an easy A.” He was sprawled over their couch, one arm thrown over his eyes and the other clutching an e.e. cummings anthology.
Their stupid project was due on Monday. It was Saturday night and they still have a good thirty pages to write. Brendon hated everything.
His phone vibrated and he shoved his hand in his pocket to dig it out. It was a text message from Jon. He opened it and read what it said.
almost done with your work?/is ryan still being a jerk?
Brendon snorted and clicked reply.
beautiful poem. best way to kill myself: suffocate in a pillow or jump off the balcony?
An answer came within a minute.
going that good, huh? don’t they live on the second floor? jumping probably wouldn’t work.
Brendon replied again, ignoring Spencer’s glare.
good point. suffocation it is then. good bye cruel world.
When Jon didn’t reply within a couple of minutes, Brendon huffed out an annoyed breath and shoved the phone back in his pocket.
“Are you done talking to your boyfriend?” Spencer asked.
Brendon yawned and shifted so that he was on his side with his head resting on his open palm. “I wasn’t, that was Jon.”
Spencer rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I was just saying that we could do a whole part comparing and contrasting Claude McKay with Langston Hughes. Like, their form and the reasons they had for writing the way that they did.”
“No, no,” Ryan argued. “We already did a compare and contrast with cummings and Eliot. We can’t do the same thing twice.”
Brendon rolled over and shoved his face into the couch cushion.
*
Twenty minutes later, Ryan and Spencer were still arguing about what to do for McKay and Hughes, and Brendon still wasn’t paying any attention. The suffocation thing didn’t work, because it was really hard to stop breathing for so long. He did get kind of lightheaded once, though.
When his phone rang - the Shakira ringtone that Jon picked for himself - Brendon scrambled to answer it in the face of Ryan and Spencer’s twin pissy looks.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, pushing the green button. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Jon’s voice answered him. “I’m here, let me in.”
“What?” Brendon asked, jumping off the couch and heading for the door. The buzzer rang, startling him.
“I’m here,” Jon repeated. “Unlock the security door.”
Brendon pressed the security release next to the intercom. “Okay,” he said.
“Thanks. Be up in a minute.” The line went dead.
Brendon snapped his phone shut and turned to his friends. “Um, Jon’s here. He’s coming up.”
“We’re busy,” Ryan complained.
“We’ve been doing this six hours and we have all day tomorrow,” Brendon said. “I demand a half an hour break.”
“A break from lying on the couch doing nothing?” Spencer asked drolly, his eyebrow rising.
“A break from listening to you two bicker,” Brendon shot back.
There was a knock on the door before either of them could respond, and Brendon threw open the door. Jon stood in front of him in jeans and a hoodie with the hood pulled up. In his hands were four cups of coffee in a holder and a paper bag.
“Oh my god, Jon Walker, I love you!” Brendon cried, stepping aside to let him in.
“Is that coffee?” Ryan called from his place on the living room floor. “I think I love you too.”
“Figured you guys could use some caffeine,” Jon answered. “I also brought some lemon squares and chocolate peanut butter rice krispy treats.”
“Food of the gods,” Brendon proclaimed. “Put it on the coffee table, over here.” He directed Jon to the table and slammed shut a book Ryan was reading, catching his fingers in the process.
“Hey!” Ryan cried.
“Mandatory thirty minute study break, Ross. Starting now. Gimme the remote.”
He somehow managed to balance a cup of coffee, rice krispy treat and the remote in his hands all at once before falling back on the couch. Jon sat down next to him, and Brendon immediately maneuvered himself under his arm.
“Best friend ever,” he declared as he flipped channels, before stopping on one showing a familiar set and tossing the remote on the empty couch cushion. “Ha! Look! Home Improvement. I bet you’re glad we’re taking that break now.”
*
“So how’d it go?” Jon asked when Brendon walked into Starbucks on Monday after his class. He was alone because Ryan had all but collapsed after they finished and Spencer had promised him a victory blowjob. Brendon escaped as fast as possible.
“I don’t know about the written part. The presentation went okay though. Ryan and Spencer did most of the talking. I held up the visual aids.” He demonstrated his technique with a pamphlet at the counter.
“Well, I’m impressed,” Jon said.
“As you should be,” Brendon agreed. “As well you should be. I need something strong.”
“So what are your plans for Thanksgiving?” Jon asked as he got to work mixing and…brewing…and whatever else it was that he did.
“Fly home on Friday, sleep for a thousand years, eat turkey, fly back. You?”
“About the same,” Jon said, “just without the flying.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters to deal with?” Brendon asked.
“Two brothers,” Jon said. “But they don’t live at home.”
“I should have known it would be all boys from that hearty Walker stock,” Brendon said.
Jon looked at him. “I…have no idea what that means, actually.”
“Me neither,” Brendon admitted. “I think I might be delirious from lack of sleep.”
“Well, this should help with that,” Jon said. He handed Brendon the cup with a wink.
Brendon took a sip and barely contained his surprised cough. It was strong all right, but that definitely wasn’t just coffee.
“Yeah, it should. Thanks.”
“Could I have one of those?”
Brendon turned to find a guy, tall and thin with rumpled blonde hair leaning against the counter.
“Um, it’s just a triple shot of espresso,” Jon said. He cut a quick look over at Brendon.
“Sounds good,” the guy said. He gave Jon a slow smile that made something in Brendon’s stomach twist.
“It’ll take me a minute, hang on,” Jon said.
“I’m Chris, by the way,” the guy said. “I see you working here a lot.”
“Chris, you already have something to drink,” Brendon said, pointing to the half-empty cup in his hand.
The guy shrugged, not looking away from Jon, “I have a test tomorrow. Some more caffeine couldn’t hurt.”
“Well, here you go,” Jon said, presenting the guy with his cup and totaling it up on the register. “That’s $4.08.”
The guy pulled out exact change from his jeans - who even does that? - and accepted the cup. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Chris,” Jon said, and then smiled at him. He smiled at him, and that guy smiled back, and they just stood there smiling at each other.
After like four hours of watching them stare at each other, Brendon cleared his throat. “Um, are you done?” he asked the guy. “Because we were talking.”
The guy looked between him and Jon, probably getting totally the wrong impression, but whatever, and said, “Oh, yeah, I’m done. See you around, Jon.”
“See you,” Jon replied. “Have a nice day!”
Brendon watched the guy slink away with a satisfaction that faded as soon as he stepped out the door. Sure, he was creepy with his I see you working here and his eyefucking, but who knew what Jon’s type was. Maybe he liked creepy. Brendon was just about to apologize, or maybe even run out and call the guy back, when he noticed that Jon was watching him with a smile, small and pleased. So he must not have liked him after all.
“That guy was creepy,” Brendon declared.
“Sure,” he said.
Brendon was about to ask him what he meant by that when the bell over the door jingled and Tom walked in.
“Brendon! Just the person I wanted to see,” he said.
Brendon gripped the counter tightly with one hand and used the other to point to himself. “Me? I’m the person you wanted to see?”
“I figured you’d show up at some point today. You’re coming to the show on the nineteenth, right? At the Metro?” Tom clocked in as he spoke, pulling a green apron out from under the counter.
“That’s this Wednesday, right? Of course,” Brendon said.
“Cool, I figured you were,” Tom said, “so I put you on the guest list. That way you don’t have to wait in line, and you can hang with us backstage before.”
Brendon’s whole body froze. Tom was putting him on the guest list. He was putting him on the guest list.
“Oh, cool,” he said, trying to remain calm.
“And we’re all going over to Alfred’s afterward. You should come with.”
Tom ducked his head to tie the apron around his waist, and Brendon immediately looked for Jon to make holy shit! eyes at him. He must have gone into the back room for something, though, because he wasn’t there.
Still, though. Holy shit.
*
“And then he said, ‘I’m putting you on the guest list,’” Brendon said.
“That’s, like, the third time you’ve told me,” Ryan said.
Brendon frowned at the phone. “Why aren’t you happy for me?”
“I am happy for you,” Ryan argued. “Spencer and I are even going to come with this time.”
“What? No!” Brendon cried. Was Ryan crazy? “Are you crazy?”
“What? You begged last time,” Ryan said.
“Yeah, but I didn’t know anyone then. And he hadn’t put me on the guest list then either. Seriously, four’s an orgy, and I don’t think our relationship is ready for that yet.”
“How are you going to get there then?” Ryan asked.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard about this new technology called the Electric Train, but apparently people can use it to get almost anywhere in the city. Anyway, I’ll probably get Jon to drive me there.”
“Oh, so Jon can go, but we can’t,” Ryan said.
“Jon is Tom’s best friend, of course he’s going.”
*
“Jon,” Brendon said into the phone. “Jon, you have to come here and help me.”
“What’s wrong?” Jon said.
“You have to come by. I’m freaking out, okay? I don’t even know what to wear. And it’s so stupid, because who cares, right? I think I might be having a panic attack here.” Jon didn’t say anything, so Brendon continued, feeling himself get more and more worked up as he went on. “This is my big night, Jon, and if I ask Ryan to help me, I’ll end up wearing a paisley vest, polka dot shoes and, like, three necklaces from Claire’s. Don’t get me wrong, that look works for him, it does, but he and I are two different people. You’re Tom’s best friend, Jon, you have to - “
“Christ, Urie, fine. I’m coming over now, okay?” Jon said, sounding exasperated. Whatever, Brendon was used to that in his normal human interactions anyway.
“Thank you, thank you. I owe you, seriously.”
*
“I don’t have anything to flip out about,” Brendon said, more to himself than to Jon. “I’m hot.” He spun around and faced Jon, gesturing down his body. “I’m hot, right?”
Jon rolled his eyes. “Yes, Brendon, you’re hot.”
“Plus, you’ll be there the whole time, which is good, because - ”
“No I won’t.”
Brendon stopped pacing around the tiny dorm room and looked at Jon. “What?”
“I don’t feel good. I told the guys I’m not gonna go.”
Brendon waved his hands in the air as something sick settled in the pit of his stomach. “What do you mean, you’re not going? I thought it was a requirement!”
Jon shrugged, pulling out his cell phone and idly punching a few keys. “I have a headache. I didn’t think it was a good idea to go to a concert.”
“That’s true, I guess. Shit, I’m sorry I made you come all the way over here. Do you want an aspirin or something?”
Jon waved away Brendon’s concern. “Forget it. It’s your big day, right?”
“It is,” Brendon said, getting back on track. “It is my big day, and I was thinking I’d just wear my favorite Radiohead shirt.” He threw open his tiny closet and grabbed the shirt from one of the shelves. Pulling off the shirt he had on and tossing it in the closet, he turned to face Jon as he put the Radiohead one on and smoothed it down his chest. “What do you think?”
Jon stared at the logo without speaking a moment, and then said, “I…”
“You don’t like it,” Brendon concluded, pulling the shirt back up and over his head.
“No, no,” Jon said. “It looks fine. No one is going to care what shirt you’re wearing. And Tom loves Radiohead. It’s fine, seriously.”
Brendon stared down at the shirt another moment before pulling it back over his head. He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it forward and then grinned at Jon, though he knew it had to look manic.
“Okay, I guess I’m ready.” He shifted from one foot to the other and tapped his fingers against his thighs. “Yup, ready.”
“You’re still freaking out,” Jon commented, and Brendon barked out a laugh.
“Tom’s like this big rock star, right?” Brendon said. Jon snorted and raised his eyebrows. “No, he is. He’s in a band that’s playing the Metro tonight. And he has, like, fans that follow him around and ask for his autograph and shit, and I just…” He combed his fingers through his hair again, a nervous tic he’d never been able to get rid of. “Not to count my chickens or jump the gun or anything, but I don’t know if I’m a very good kisser. Of guys.” He snuck a look up at Jon to see if he was still laughing at him, but he was watching Brendon seriously, so continued. “The first time was bad. Like really, epically bad. So bad that sometimes I’m surprised it didn’t just knock the gayness right out of me, to be honest. The other times after that weren’t bad, necessarily, nothing like the first one, but still the guys weren’t exactly - um -“
Brendon trailed off when he realized that Jon was standing much, much closer to him than he had been a minute ago. “What are you doing?” he asked.
Jon didn’t answer. Instead, he wrapped one hand around the back of Brendon’s neck and tugged him forward until their lips met. Brendon went still in shock, but Jon’s mouth was soft and damp and coaxed Brendon’s more inexperienced one into action. Brendon threw an arm around Jon’s shoulders and pulled him closer, moaning into the kiss and letting Jon’s tongue dip shallowly into his mouth.
He could now say with certainty that he’d been right - his other kisses had sucked, especially compared to this. His hand was pushed under the material of Jon’s shirt, ready to slip higher, when Jon put his hands on Brendon’s arms and pushed away from him.
Brendon’s mouth followed Jon’s instinctively, his eyes tracing the wet, red line of it. Jon took another step back and dropped his hands away from Brendon.
“You, uh.” Jon cleared his throat. “You know how to kiss. You’ll be fine.”
“What?” Brendon asked. He blinked a few times to try and make the world make sense again.
“Yeah,” Jon replied, agreeing with something Brendon didn’t think he said. “My head is killing me, so I’m gonna go. Good luck tonight.” He left so quickly that Brendon didn’t have time to say a word.
“What?” he demanded of the empty room.
*
Brendon could barely remember the trip to the Metro on the El. He kept thinking back to that kiss, and Jon’s face after. The way that he just left Brendon alone in his room. It played in his head on a loop, over and over. Kissing, staring, leaving. Kissing, staring, leaving.
He barely avoided missing his stop.
The walk to the Metro from the El stop was a short one, and Tom kept his promise to put him on the guest list, so he got to go right in.
Alfred saw him first and gave a wave. His arm was around a woman that Brendon remembered as the girl in the slinky black dress from Tom’s party.
“Hey, where is everyone else?” Brendon asked.
“Dressing room, probably. Did you get your backstage pass? You could just go back there.”
Brendon patted the sticker that the doorman had given him. “Okay, thanks.”
As he made his way through the people, his mind once again drifted to what had happened earlier. He touched his lips with two fingers and sighed. Kiss, stare, leave.
He was let backstage with no problems and found the dressing room with the band’s name on it quickly. Could Jon possibly…but no, he had been talking about how nervous he was, so Jon was just being a good friend. But then, why did he leave?
Brendon was barely paying any attention when he pushed open the partially closed door to the dressing room, too lost in his own thoughts.
“Shit!”
Brendon was jostled back to Earth by the sight of Tom and Sean scrambling away from each other. Sean’s shirt was unbuttoned and Tom’s mouth was red and dark.
“Um,” Brendon said, taking an involuntary step back.
“Brendon, god, why didn’t you knock?” Sean demanded.
“You - the door was open,” Brendon said. His eyes were glued to Tom, running a shaking hand through his hair and rubbing his mouth with the back of his fist. Brendon’s heart gave a weak lurch, but other than that, he couldn’t think of anything except…
“Why didn’t Jon tell me?” he wondered, more to himself than the other two people in the room.
“He doesn’t know,” Tom explained, holding his hands up and looking earnestly at Brendon. “No one knows yet. Anyway, why should he tell you?”
“No reason,” Brendon said, semi-hysterically. “Just, you know, in conversation.”
“Look, you won’t tell him, will you?” Sean asked.
Brendon shook his head as he backed out of the room. “I won’t.”
*
“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, pressing a bottle of water into his hands.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Brendon said. “Honestly, it doesn’t feel bad at all.” He shook his head. “I must be in shock or something. I can’t…”
“What?” Spencer asked.
“Nothing. It’s just…this has been a really weird day.”
“Sounds like it,” Ryan said.
“No. I mean, yes, but something else happened too,” Brendon said. “He…Jon came over earlier today. I was nervous, you know, so I called him. Anyway, we were talking, and I told him that I was worried about kissing Tom, which is - “ Brendon laughed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Pretty hilarious now, but at the time…”
“And?” Ryan prompted.
“And Jon kissed me. I mean, he walked right up to me and didn’t say a word. Just kissed me.” He looked up at their faces to gauge their reactions.
“Brendon,” Ryan said, sitting next to him on the couch and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Brendon laid his head against Ryan’s shoulder and shut his eyes. “Brendon, the first time we met Jon, he was practically falling all over himself trying to impress us. He brought us snacks when we were killing ourselves finishing that project on Saturday. You talk to him every day. Hell, you probably see him more than you see us at this point.”
“He’s my friend,” Brendon said.
Spencer appeared in front of him. “Things I know about Jon Walker: he’s a film major, he works at Starbucks, he has two cats named Dylan and Clover, he makes the best coffee ever.” The last bit was said in a truly terrible impression of Brendon’s voice. Seriously, since when was Brendon British? “He loves Muse, makes awesome pancakes, has two brothers, his favorite video game is Halo 3, his favorite movie is Pulp Fiction, his iPod has even more music than yours, his favorite food is mac and cheese with chicken in it, he once drank a whole bottle of Jack Daniels in one night without even throwing up, he’s just the most awesome guy…”
“I get it, Spencer,” Brendon said, cutting him off.
“Things I know about Tom Conrad: he’s a photography major, he works at Starbucks, he’s in a band and he’s the hottest guy you’ve ever seen. Oh, and he lives with Jon Walker. Anything else, Ryan?”
“I think he has a dog,” Ryan said.
“That’s right, a dog with a stupid name,” Spencer said.
“Bear is not a stupid name,” Brendon said. “And I know a lot about Tom, okay? I know the classes he’s in and his birthday and…” Now that he thought about it, though, all the stuff he knew about him came from his Facebook profile. “We don’t talk much, that’s all. I mean, obviously he was busy with Sean that whole time.”
“Yeah,” Ryan said softly. “And Jon was busy with you.”
“I don’t…” Brendon started, but he couldn’t finish, because suddenly all these little details that he hadn’t noticed were coming back to him. God, Jon had been trying to impress Ryan and Spencer that day, how had Brendon missed that?
“He kissed you, Brendon. Come on,” Spencer said.
“I don’t,” he said again, and then abruptly stood up, throwing Ryan’s arm off of him. It was Jon. It has always been Jon. “I have to…”
“Good luck,” Spencer said as Brendon made his way to the door.
Brendon opened it and turned around. “Ryan, any advice?”
“Don’t fuck it up,” Ryan said.
*
Brendon made the twenty-minute walk to Jon’s house in seven minutes, and was ringing the doorbell before he’d even caught his breath.
Jon answered it in sweatpants and a t-shirt, beer in hand.
“Brendon,” he said, surprised.
“Can I come in?” Brendon asked, pushing past him and into the house. The coffee table was full of empty beer bottles and a rerun of MASH was playing on the television.
“What are you doing here? Is Tom with you?” Jon asked.
“No, he’s still at the show. I left,” Brendon said.
“Why?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Brendon said, and he laughed a little when he realized he meant it. It really didn’t matter. Because it was Jon - his beard and his flip flops and the soft way he slurred his s’s.
“Are you okay? Did something happen?” Jon asked, looking concerned now, probably because Brendon was standing in his living room, cackling at him like a crazy person.
“I’m great, and something…something did happen. You kissed me, Jon.”
Jon ducked his head, and Brendon followed his gaze down to his bare toes. “You wanted to know if you were any good.”
“You kissed me,” Brendon repeated, taking a tentative step closer. “The best kiss of my life, and then you left.”
Jon’s eyes shot up, and the look he gave was one Brendon recognized but had never understood. He could read it easily now, with his blinders - his fucking Tom Conrad blinders - gone. It was a mixture of nerves, amusement and cautious hope.
“Really? The best kiss of your life?” Jon asked.
“Really,” he confirmed. “Jon, I like Tom - no, listen!” Brendon added hastily when Jon’s expression went blank and he took a step away. “I like Tom, but it would never work out with two of us. For…” He swallowed the urge to snicker, because it was not the time, but only barely just. “For a lot of different reasons, but mostly because I’m kind of in love with you.”
That look was awe, pure and simple, and Brendon wondered what Jon saw on his own face.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” Jon asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
“I think I’m in love with you. Not to be, you know, creepy or anything, but you’re amazing, Jon. I’ve been such a jerk to you too, and I would understand it if you were pissed at me or didn’t like me back. But, okay, I lied, something else did happen today. I don’t want to go into detail, but I’ll say that I had a talk with Tom that should have broken my heart. It should have, but the only thing I could think about was you and that kiss and how you left. And this isn’t the only reason - there’s seriously like a million. Even as I’m talking I keep thinking up more - but oh my god, you’re so hot, Jon, holy shit - “
“Okay, stop talking now,” Jon said, smiling, before he framed Brendon’s face with his hands and pulled him in for a kiss.
*
“Aren’t the other guys going to be mad if they come home and find us?” Brendon asked, some time later when they were both lying on the living room floor. “Some things friends don’t need to know?”
Jon propped his head up on one fist and smiled down at Brendon. “Who cares? Anyway, they’re at that party. They won’t be home for hours.”
“So you’re gonna teach me how to give blowjobs like that, right? I thought mine were okay, but I see now that they’ve been extremely subpar - “
“I’m not complaining,” Jon said.
“But there’s always room to grow,” Brendon said. “I want to learn, Jon. Would you deny my thirst for knowledge?”
“Never,” Jon promised. “At least not when it comes to my dick.”
“See, that’s smart thinking.” Brendon hummed happily and snuggled closer when Jon began threading his fingers through Brendon’s hair, pushing his head into Jon’s hand. “Oh, yes, please.”
“I think I’ve found your weakness,” Jon said, laughter evident in his voice.
“You have. Will you use it against me?” Brendon asked.
“Are you kidding? Shamelessly,” Jon said.
“Awesome,” Brendon said, already anticipating it.
“You know,” Jon said, scratching at the short, sensitive hairs on the back of Brendon’s neck and making Brendon’s eyes drift shut in bliss, “I told Tom to invite you to that first concert at the Subterranean.”
“What?” Brendon forced his eyes open to look at Jon. “What do you mean?”
The tips of Jon’s ears turned pink as he spoke, which was fucking adorable. “You used to come in to Starbucks all the time and do homework. I saw your name on one of your assignments and found you on Facebook…”
Brendon gasped. “Jon, you Facebook-stalked me? That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard!”
Jon tugged on Brendon’s hair, and wow, they were really going to have to experiment with that more some time soon, because Brendon could feel his spent cock start to take a renewed interest in the activities.
“I saw that you were a music major, so I thought, you know, music major, concert. It would be a way to get to hang out with you. I didn’t realize you wanted Tom then, or I wouldn’t have done it.”
Lifting himself up, Brendon gently pushed at Jon’s shoulders until he laid flat on the carpeting. Then, he bent down and kissed him softly, pulling back after a moment to place a hand on Jon’s cheek. “I’m really sorry.”
“I know you are,” Jon said.
“I’m going to make it up to you,” Brendon promised.
“I know you are,” Jon said again, then grinned. “Hey, what time is it?”
Brendon squinted up at the digital clock on Jon’s DVD player. “Um, almost one-thirty, why?”
Jon pushed out from under Brendon and rolled himself to his feet.
“Where are you going?” Brendon demanded, making grabby hands.
“I’ll be right back,” Jon said. He walked across the living room and down the hallway that would take him to the kitchen. Brendon turned on his stomach and ogled Jon’s bare ass with interest.
“Oh baby,” he said, loud enough that Jon could hear him. “I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave.”
“You did not just say that,” Jon called from in the kitchen. Brendon heard the sound of the refrigerator opening above his snickering, and then Jon said, “Close your eyes!”
“Why?” Brendon asked.
“I have a surprise for you!” Jon said.
“Fine,” Brendon said, doing as he was told, “but if the surprise is ice or any kind of ice-like substance being put anywhere on my body…”
“It’s not, I swear,” Jon said, surprising Brendon with his closeness. “Okay, open them.”
Brendon crawled to his knees and opened his eyes. In front of him, Jon was holding a chocolate cake, still inside the white, paper Jewel box.
“What?” Brendon asked.
“It’s November twentieth,” Jon explained. “Happy gay-iversary.”
Brendon stared down at the cake and then up at Jon’s hopeful face. Somehow, with all the craziness going on in his life lately, he’d managed to forget about that.
“Thank you,” he said, carefully taking the cake out of Jon’s hands and placing it on the table.
Then, he went about celebrating his very first gay-iversary the right way.