The Strip (Final Part)
Part Eight
Ryan had insisted that he and Brendon stop by his apartment so that he could change before they went to the set together. Even though Brendon had offered Ryan some of his own clothes, Ryan had pointedly told Brendon that while he loved Brendon’s ass, it was huge, and there was no way that they could share pants. Brendon probably would have still been mad about that statement if Ryan hadn’t have sucked him off on the car ride over.
“It’s weird,” Ryan whispered to Brendon as they made their way through the corridors of the studio. “I knew that I would be back here for the filming of the final episodes, but it’s still weird being here. Plus, I don’t know why I’m supposed to be at this meeting,” he admitted. “It’s just for people to renew their contracts for next season, and mine is definitely not getting renewed. What do you think they want?”
“I don’t know, Ry.” Brendon squeezed Ryan’s hand tightly in his own.
It felt strange, walking down the hallway holding hands brazenly with Ryan. There was still a part of Brendon that was panicking, just a little, and he had to suppress the tiny urge to pull his hand away from Ryan in case someone saw them.
As if everyone didn’t know about them by then.
Even though Brendon still had those old urges of secrecy, there was a greater feeling that overwhelmed everything.
When they reached the outside of the conference room, Brendon stopped Ryan from heading in, and leaned in to give him a tender and hopefully comforting kiss. “Don’t worry.”
Ryan sighed. “I can’t help but think that it all might just be a big humiliation thing,” he admitted.
“Don’t be silly. They wouldn’t do that. They couldn’t. You’re too adorable.” He kissed Ryan again.
Despite himself, Ryan laughed. “Thank God for you, Brendon.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “Aren’t you a little nervous?”
“Why would I be nervous?”
“This is the first time that we’re going to see everybody after you told everyone about us,” Ryan reasoned.
Brendon laughed a little bit. “Considering how nervous I was at the Emmys, actually telling all of America that I love you, I think this will be pretty easy.”
“I know, but-”
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Brendon asked, and suddenly there was a terrible sinking in his chest. “I thought you wanted everyone to know.”
Ryan gave him a reassuring kiss. “I do. I do, Brendon, but I’m still a little apprehensive to see how everyone handles it.”
“I know,” Brendon agreed. “But remember, it doesn’t matter what they think, because you have me. And I’m way better than any of them.” He smirked.
“Insufferable,” Ryan muttered before kissing Brendon one last time. “Okay, let’s go in.”
He grabbed Brendon’s hand again, squeezed it tight, and together, they went into the conference room.
The long table was mostly full, and as Ryan and Brendon entered the room, almost every pair of eyes turned towards them. Although there were varying degrees of expressions on each person’s face, surprise was nowhere to be found. Everyone obviously had already found out. Brendon knew that even those people not at the actual awards show had either seen it on television, read it somewhere, or heard about it from someone else.
Looking around the room, Brendon was a little surprised to see that most of the faces looking back at him were smiling that same small, secret smile. As if they had known all along.
Ryan’s tight grip loosened, though their hands remained clasped together, and they took their seats, side by side.
Across the table, Brendon could see Keltie and Greta talking softly, though he could hear their coo of “They’re so cute.” From out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ryan smile and shake his head, obviously hearing them too, and Brendon leaned up a little against him, just needing the comforting warmth of his skin.
The meeting began shortly after they arrived, and Brendon released his hold on Ryan’s hand to place it on Ryan’s knee to soothe the slight tremor. He was obviously still nervous.
Ryan gave a small apologetic smile and stopped his bouncing leg, but Brendon didn’t move his hand from where it was.
Patrick cleared his throat as he stood up to address the cast members. “Hello, everyone. We have a couple of matters to discuss today, but it should really only take a few minutes. First off, congratulations to Brendon on his Emmy win.”
Brendon blushed red as Ryan squeezed his thigh and his cast mates congratulated him. He smiled back at them in thanks.
“Yes, well done, Brendon.” While Brendon was sure that Patrick, or someone else in the room, was going to make a comment on Brendon’s less-than-normal acceptance speech, he didn’t mention anything about it and continued. “Moving on, I’ve already contacted all of your managers and gone over the contracts for next season so everything should be in order. Nevertheless, you have a week to return the signed contract.”
Brendon knew from experience that even though the producers may have spoken with the managers, there was still a lot of finagling to do. Brendon was suddenly even happier that he wasn’t renewing his contract.
Patrick motioned to one of the producers, who, in turn, stood up and began to pass around bound packets of paper. When he passed by Brendon and Ryan, he laid a packet in front of each of them.
“That’s all,” Patrick said, concluding the very short meeting. “Don’t forget to go over the contracts and sign them by next week.”
The room began to fill up with the sound of various conversations and many of the cast members began to leave. Both Brendon and Ryan, however, were staring down at the contract lying in front of Ryan.
“I’m going to go talk to Patrick about this,” Ryan said, breaking the confused silence. “This is probably just some mistake.”
“I’ll come with you,” Brendon promised. “I have to turn my contract back in anyways.” Ryan shot him a skeptical look. “I told you that I wasn’t going to do this anymore. They’ve fucked with us enough.”
Ryan nodded and grabbed Brendon’s hand as he stood up. “Come on,” he said, and he led them both up to the head of the table where the producers were still milling about.
“Patrick,” Ryan addressed. He held up his contract in his hand. “I accidently got one of these. Here you go.” He handed the papers over.
“You might as well take mine too,” Brendon said. “I’m not going to be back for the next season.”
“Hang on,” Patrick said, holding his hands up in the air. “One thing at a time. First off, Ryan, this wasn’t a mistake. We want you to come back for the next season.”
Ryan’s brow furrowed. “But you fired me. You said that ratings were too low and I wasn’t essential for the new direction of the show.” His words were a little harsh, and Brendon knew that no matter what Ryan said, the fact that he was let go still stung.
Patrick cleared his throat, and his face seemed to develop a reddish hue. Almost as if he was blushing. “The situation is that since the Emmy thing, interest has seemed to go up in the show. Mainly, in you two.”
Brendon couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “Wait, so you’re saying that now that people know that Ryan and I fuck, they want to watch the show?”
While Brendon and Ryan’s relationship was apparently good for business, and therefore valuable, Brendon’s words made many of the producers to cringe at his blunt outburst. Brendon felt a weird sort of satisfaction making some of the old men squirm.
Wanting to maintain some sort of professionalism, Patrick didn’t answer the question directly. “The public change in your relationship has caused quite a bit of attention, and we think that it may be enough to revive the falling ratings of the show.”
When Brendon looked towards Ryan, he could see that they were sharing expressions of confusion and doubt.
“What does that mean?” Ryan clarified.
“It means that we’re offering your job back, Ryan.”
Ryan bit his lip for a moment, looking thoughtful, and then he shook his head. “No.”
“Excuse me?” Patrick asked.
“No. I’m done with this show, and I won’t have you all using Brendon’s and my personal life to benefit the network.”
Brendon chimed in. “And I meant what I said earlier, Patrick. I’m not going to be renewing my contract.”
Patrick, and the rest of the producers, stared at them both incredulously. Jon, however, for his part, didn’t look that shocked.
“You can’t be serious,” Patrick prodded. “You just won an Emmy for your work on this show, Brendon. You can’t walk away from this.”
Ryan’s hand found its way back into Brendon’s, and its warmth gave Brendon comfort and confidence. “I’m grateful for all this show has done for me,” Brendon assured. “It’s been a great learning experience and I met Ryan here.” He stole a quick glance, but quickly regained his composure. “But I’ve gotten all I can from this, and it’s time for me to move on.”
“I guess you’ll be redesigning the show after all.” Ryan smiled, if not a little patronizingly.
Patrick looked wildly between the two of them. “What do you expect us to do about this?”
Brendon shrugged. “Just say we died in a car accident or something. Maybe I was giving Ryan’s character road head and he lost control of the wheel when I was deep-throating,” he amended just to see the look of shock again on many of the producer’s faces.
He placed his contract down on top of the one that Ryan had laid down, and together, he and Ryan made their way out of the conference room, hands still tightly intertwined.
* * *
To say that Pete had been less-than thrilled when Brendon had finally returned his twenty seven messages would have been an understatement. The only way Brendon had convinced Pete not to kill him in his sleep was to never come out on national live television again. He didn’t really think that would be a problem.
“Well, since the cat’s out of the bag, we might as well use this whole thing to our advantage,” Pete had told Brendon. “We’ve got a couple of interviews lined up: People, US Weekly, maybe an appearance on Entertainment Tonight. Ellen was hoping you’d stop by.”
Brendon had put a stop to Pete’s long list of possible publicity outlets rather quickly. “Ryan and I have decided that while we’re happy that we’re out, we don’t want to do a big publicity circuit.”
In fact, other than Brendon’s rather public initial announcement at the Emmys, he and Ryan had been trying to keep a low profile. It had been over a month since Brendon had stopped being stupid and their relationship had gone public. Although it was nice for both of them to no longer have to worry about hiding their new status, they were still a hot topic with paparazzi, but if a camera was pointed their way once in a while, they tried to be courteous.
However, despite the fact that Brendon had told Pete that he and Ryan preferred to keep things quiet, Pete had somehow convinced him to do one television appearance. It was really quite amazing how convincing Pete could be. Even more amazing was how he had persuaded Ryan to agree to it as well.
When he had arrived at the set, Brendon was thankful that Ryan was by his side. It wasn’t that he hated talk shows, but still, standing back behind the stage, Ryan’s hand in his own, helped to calm Brendon’s nerves. At least he could be thankful for the fact that he had convinced Pete that one appearance would be enough and he wouldn’t have to go through the same banal questions over and over.
“Nervous?” Ryan asked him. The way that Ryan was standing, shoulders slightly slumped, chewing subconsciously on his lower lip, Brendon could tell that the question was more for his own reassurance that he wasn’t the only one with fluttering nerves.
Brendon gave him a small smile. “A little,” he admitted, “but after this, hopefully things will die down.” He gave Ryan’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Plus, Marissa isn’t so bad. It’s better than doing a spotlight on E! or something.”
“You’re right,” Ryan conceded.
One of the stage handlers poked his head around the corner where Ryan and Brendon were standing in the near darkness.
“After the commercial break, you two are on. You might want to head onto the set now,” he told them, and Brendon nodded.
The stage itself was set up to look like someone’s living room. There was a comfortable-looking couch placed next to a coffee table, and on the other side, there was a plush armchair that the host was sitting on. Walking onto the homey set, Brendon almost forgot that he was on a talk show, although when he and Ryan walked out from backstage and were flooded with the hot lights of the stage and the loud noise of the audience, he quickly remembered.
“They’re so loud,” Ryan whispered into his ear as some girl in the audience shrieked their names.
“Well, we are hot,” Brendon joked, and even though it was mostly bravado, he felt Ryan relax a little bit next to him, and he calmed down a little too.
“They’ll calm down when we get back on the air,” Marissa, the host, said as Ryan and Brendon greeted her. “Nice to meet you,” she said to Ryan, shaking his hand, and then smiled at Brendon. “Good to see you again.”
Brendon grinned. “I knew I was always your favorite guest.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The bright lights of the stage were turned up to a nearly blinding level of intensity, and off to the side, Brendon could see one of the camera men counting down, signaling the end of commercials.
He sat down on the comfortable sofa, and pulled Ryan down close to him. Their thighs were flush up against each other and Ryan leaned against him, almost propping himself up with the help of Brendon’s shoulder. Turning slightly, Brendon gave Ryan a comforting smile as the director counted down. Three. Two. One.
“And welcome back,” Marissa chirped into the camera, wide grin on her face. “Our next guests are from the hit television series The Strip. Welcome, Brendon Urie and Ryan Ross.”
Even though the audience had already clapped and screamed for them already, with that introduction, the cheers came once more, and Brendon could see Ryan blush red. Brendon took the reigns. “Thank you for having us.”
“Let’s just dive in then, shall we?”
Brendon nodded. Even though he knew that some of this was going to be personal, things that he’d rather not talk about, it would quell some of the media’s curiosity and then he and Ryan might even be able to go on a date like a real couple.
“Your Emmy speech came as a shock to many people,” Marissa started.
Ryan laughed, and it was deep and rich; it was real. “It came as a surprise to me too,” he admitted.
“Really?” The interest was overwhelmingly evident in her voice. “So the two of you didn’t plan it?”
“Not exactly,” Brendon said. “Well,” he corrected, “I planned it. Sort of. But Ryan didn’t know anything about what was going to happen until I said it.”
“What caused you to admit something so personal on live television?”
“That’s a rather long story. Basically, it was my way of showing Ryan how much I cared about him.”
There was a synchronized “Aw” from the audience, and Brendon let out an embarrassed chuckle.
“Ever since Ryan joined the show, the media has been speculating a real life feud between the two of you,” Marissa said. “Was there any animosity between you or have you been involved since the beginning and the rumors of disagreements was just a cover up?”
Brendon glanced at Ryan, and fell silent when he began to talk.
“There was never any rivalry between us,” Ryan clarified. “We’ve been together for over a year. We’ve had our ups and downs, but we’ve both been devoted to each other and our relationship, despite our occasional stupidity.”
He smiled at Brendon, and Brendon couldn’t help but grin back.
“What would this ‘occasional stupidity’ entail?”
Although Brendon and Ryan had agreed to be honest, they also had decided that some things didn’t need to be relived and were better off left in the past, so Brendon just smiled charmingly and said, “We all make mistakes. Why else do you think I would come out on national television?”
The audience laughed at that, and Marissa, thankfully, didn’t prod any further into the subject.
“Fair enough,” she agreed. “Since you’re not going to share every detail of your personal life, do you think you could talk to us about the next season of The Strip? Have the producers thought about possibly incorporating your real life relationship into the show?”
“Actually, both Ryan and I decided not to renew our contracts for next season,” Brendon said to a loud chorus of disappointment, and one rather adamant “No!” which caused him to laugh apologetically. “We’re both ready to move on and explore other interests,” he explained.
“What do you intend to do after the show?” Marissa asked. “Are there any plans for marriage possibly?”
Whoa, Brendon was not expecting that question.
“We’re very happy in our relationship as it is now,” Ryan answered seeing as Brendon couldn’t seem to make his vocal chords work. “Brendon and I are living together now, but we haven’t discussed marriage yet, and when we do, we intend to keep it a private affair.”
Despite the fact that Brendon was having a rather difficult time breathing, he couldn’t help but notice that Ryan had said “when” and not “if”. For some reason, that single word alone allowed the air to pass through easier.
“As for life after the show,” Ryan continued, “I’m going to be taking some time out from acting to concentrate on writing.”
Brendon perked up a little. “Ryan’s a fantastic writer,” he bragged.
Ryan blushed.
After only a few days of bugging, Ryan had finally given in and had shown Brendon some of his writings. When Brendon had read through it, and told Ryan that he loved it, he didn’t even have to act.
“I didn’t know you wrote,” Marissa said. “What are you working on?”
“A book about me,” Brendon chimed in, but Ryan ignored him with a well-meaning roll of the eyes.
“It’s fiction,” Ryan said, but that was all that Marissa could get out of him. Brendon grinned a little. He felt special being the only one who really knew anything about Ryan’s novel. Even Spencer had only gotten a terse overview of the plot.
“Well,” Marissa recovered from the succinct answer, “I’m sure that your fans will look forward to reading it. What about you, Brendon? What are your plans after The Strip?”
Now it was Brendon’s turn to be in the spotlight, and he flushed a little. He was nervous about what people would think about going into movies. While Ryan had told Brendon that he was a little scared what people may think of him writing, Brendon knew that Ryan was talented and would succeed. Despite the Emmy, despite Ryan’s words and the support of his friends, Brendon still had a tiny, annoying fear that his move into movies could turn into one big disaster.
“Brendon’s just been cast as a lead for an upcoming movie,” Ryan answered for Brendon proudly. “Pretty soon you’ll see him at the Oscars.”
“I really don’t think so,” Brendon said, blushing. “Ryan gives me way too much credit.”
“I really don’t,” Ryan assured.
Ryan’s hand found its way into Brendon’s and let their fingers brush up against each other. It was almost like it was only the two of them again. The bright lights of the stage seemed to dim, and the noise of the audience disappeared.
“Boys?”
Marissa’s voice pulled them out of their daze. She smiled at the audience.
“Young love,” she prompted, and the chorus of “Aws” were back. “As I was saying,” she continued. “Can you tell us anything about the season finale of The Strip? It must be pretty exciting since it’s both of your last shows.”
Brendon gave a coy smile. “We can’t really give anything away,” he said. “Actually, we just got the script yesterday, so we haven’t even filmed it yet. All I can say is stay tuned.”
* * *
“Shouldn’t you be throwing a party after we wrap for the season?” Brendon yelled to Jon over the loud music playing.
Spencer grinned and gave Jon a sloppy looking kiss on the cheek. “He couldn’t resist showing off his new pool.”
Jon laughed, but didn’t disagree, and kissed Spencer.
No matter how much Brendon loved both of them, he still wasn’t used to seeing them make out, so he excused himself and went to look for Ryan.
Jon’s house was huge. Apparently, being a producer paid well, and to celebrate Ryan and Brendon’s departure from The Strip into the real world (and his brand new pool with a built in water cove) Jon decided to throw an intimate party. Well, intimate by Jon’s standards. Nearly the whole cast and crew were invited, and Brendon had even seen Pete milling around, cocktail in one hand, cell phone firmly resting in the other.
“Have you seen Ryan?” Brendon asked Keltie when he spotted her by the bar. She and Greta were in the middle of a pretty serious-looking drinking contest and Keltie shook her head. Well, maybe wobbled would be a better word.
“Fill ‘em up!” Keltie yelled, and Shane obliged, winking at Brendon as he only filled Greta’s shot glass half-way.
“I’ve got twenty on Greta,” he whispered surreptitiously into Brendon’s ear.
Brendon grinned and shook his head, amused. “Has anyone seen Ryan?”
“I think he went inside,” Greta said after throwing back her shot.
Keltie frowned and slurred, “How’re you talking right?” She looked at Shane suspiciously. “Shane?!”
“I’m gonna go find him,” Brendon said, and left Shane at the bar with a suddenly irate Keltie.
He walked around the pool, careful not to get pushed in by Zack, who was standing innocently by the edge, but didn’t hesitate to hip bump anyone who passed by into the deep end.
Eventually, after circling around the backyard three times, Brendon sighed and headed towards the door to the living room. As soon as he closed the heavy glass sliding door, all of the noise from the party outside evaporated.
“Ryan?” Brendon yelled as he leaned against the back of a couch, and his voice carried easily. Jon’s house had great acoustics: hardwood floors.
“Brendon, I’m right here,” Ryan said, startling Brendon just a little bit as his hand reached out from where he was sitting underneath Brendon’s leaning figure on the couch.
“You scared me,” Brendon whined.
“You didn’t even look before you yelled.”
“I’ve been looking for you for twenty minutes. You weren’t outside.”
Ryan shrugged. “It was getting too much for me out there. I’d rather be in here where it’s quiet.”
Brendon grinned. “You’re so emo.” He jumped over the couch and slid down next to Ryan. “You better be glad that emo looks sexy on you.” He licked the shell of Ryan’s ear. “Very, very sexy.”
Squirming, Ryan pushed him away a little. “Brendon, we’re on Jon’s couch.”
“So?” Brendon asked as he started to place wet, open-mouthed kissed down across Ryan’s neck.
“So,” Ryan said, and even though he was obviously trying to sound strict, his voice was quickly losing any sense of control as Brendon’s hand skated down his thigh and pawed at Ryan’s zipper. “We can’t do this here,” he pleaded and he turned his head to look over his shoulder at the party going on behind him.
“Everyone’s outside,” Brendon reasoned. “And the glass is soundproof. Plus, we’ll hear it if anyone comes in. The noise from outside will alert us.” As he was talking, his hand continued its work on Ryan’s zipper, pulling it down, and almost subconsciously, Ryan raised his hips up and allowed Brendon to pull off his pants. “Plus, Jon and Spencer totally had sex in your dressing room yesterday. Twice.”
Ryan’s head shot up at that and he frowned. “They did not.”
“I’m afraid they did,” Brendon said, nipping at Ryan’s collar bone. “Jon told me he finally understood why you and I always spent so much time in there.”
“When?”
“During our read-through.” Brendon’s hand slipped under the band of Ryan’s boxers, and Ryan let out a breathy sigh.
“Oh fuck it!” Ryan exclaimed, and pulled Brendon’s mouth to his own, hungrily kissing him before he threw his one leg over Brendon to straddle his lap.
As Ryan ground down on him, Brendon greedily pressed his hips up into every swivel of hips. “Hold on,” he panted, and with Ryan’s help, he pulled off Ryan’s boxers and undid his own pants, pulling them down to his knees.
Brendon pulled Ryan’s hand to his mouth and teasingly licked over the pad of his index finger.
“God, your fingers are so sexy,” he moaned before taking two deep into his mouth, swirling his tongue over them and sucking hard.
“Bren, they’re just fingers,” Ryan huffed, but his eyes were hooded as he watched Brendon’s tongue lap out as he pulled Ryan’s fingers from his mouth.
“But they’re your fingers,” Brendon explained, and he allowed his own hand to snake down Ryan’s clothed back to knead at his naked ass. “And I want you to fuck yourself with them,” he whispered hotly into Ryan’s ear.
Ryan made a noise of protest, but it quickly vanished as one of Brendon’s own fingers circled at his entrance.
“You have to get yourself ready for me,” Brendon reminded. His hands left Ryan’s ass and gripped at the sides of Ryan’s hips, grinding him down onto Brendon’s hardening cock. “Don’t you want me to fuck you?”
Brendon could see Ryan’s eyes darting past him to look outside, to take in the people at the party oblivious to them, and Ryan nodded.
“I want you to fuck yourself with your fingers,” Brendon ordered. “Get yourself nice and ready for me. Then I want you to ride me. I want to you to come knowing that anyone could walk in here and see you with my cock up your ass and see how much you love it.”
Ryan’s hand scrambled, and he let out a deep groan as he forced his two fingers, still wet with Brendon’s saliva, deep inside him.
“Tell me what it feels like. Tell me what it feels like, fucking yourself,” Brendon demanded, eyes sweeping down from Ryan’s unfocused eyes to where his fingers were, arm bent uncomfortably, as he dragged them in and out.
“It’s not enough,” Ryan responded with an edge of irritation to his voice. “I need your fingers. God, I need your cock.”
Brendon kissed him hungrily. He couldn’t help himself, but he shook his head. “One more finger. One more finger and then I’ll fuck you.”
Ryan whined in frustration, but his body stiffened, and Brendon knew that he had forced a third finger inside.
“You’re so hot like this,” Brendon told him as he licked and sucked as his neck. “Gonna fuck you.”
“Please,” Ryan pleaded, “I’m ready. I am.”
“I know you are.” Brendon detached himself from Ryan’s neck and leaned back a little on the couch. He looked up at Ryan and grinned. “Ride me.”
Ryan rolled his eyes at Brendon’s cocky order, but grabbed a tight hold of Brendon’s dick and eagerly sunk down, drawing twin moans out from both of them. He set flat palms against Brendon’s clothed chest, and he pulled himself shakily up off of Brendon before he slammed down.
Brendon’s hands found their way to Ryan’s hips, and he helped direct Ryan’s movements while thrusting up into them. Ryan was riding him hard and fast, and Brendon knew that it was the added chance of being caught that made Ryan so desperate.
“You’re watching them, aren’t you?” Brendon asked as he pulled Ryan down on him as he pushed up. “If any of them looked over, they’d know exactly what you were doing. They would know that you were getting fucked.”
Ryan let out a groan, and Brendon could feel Ryan’s head drop down on his shoulder, but he knew that Ryan’s eyes were still focused outside.
“They’d be jealous,” Brendon went on as he viciously twisted his hips as he thrust up. “Your face, God, your face when we fuck is so sexy. You have no idea.”
Ryan’s movements were getting faster, jerkier, and Brendon brought one of his hands off of Ryan’s hips to pull him upright. Once Ryan was seated straight on his lap, still bouncing deliciously, Brendon’s hand meandered down to stroke Ryan’s cock.
“I want to watch you when you come,” Brendon growled. “I want you to look at me.”
Nodding, Ryan regained his speed, falling up and down on Brendon, and thrusting into his hand’s tight grip. His body tensed, and Ryan’s ass clenched around Brendon as he came. Brendon fucked Ryan through his orgasm, triggering his own, and Ryan slumped down against him.
“You came on my shirt,” Brendon complained, looking down.
Ryan laughed. “You’ll get over it.”
“Want to get off me now?”
“No, I’m good,” Ryan said, hugging Brendon with him still buried deep inside.
The door opened, and the loud noise from the party filtered through. When Ryan and Brendon looked up, Spencer was standing there with a bemused expression on his face. Brendon was thankful for the high-rising back of the couch, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think that Spencer didn’t know what was going on.
“I don’t even want to know,” Spencer said, shaking his head. “I’m just here looking for more chips.” He made his way to the pantry. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Jon that you had sex on his couch.”
Ryan tensed in his arms, but he yelled over to Spencer, “Just consider it payback for fucking in my dressing room.”
Brendon could really get used to seeing Spencer blush like that.
* * *
“I can’t believe this is our last day on set,” Brendon whispered to Ryan as they were standing back behind the cameras, watching as Greta and Keltie had a heartfelt reunion. “It’s so surreal.”
Ryan nodded. “We did have a lot of good memories on this set.”
“Well, not this set, exactly, but the cafeteria, and the gym, and certainly in Kyle’s bedroom,” Brendon teased. “Jesus, when you stop and think about it, we’ve fooled around on at least seventy percent of this studio.”
“What do you say after everyone goes home tonight we say goodbye properly?” Ryan asked lowly. “I’ve never been in the backseat of the Hummer, you know.”
Brendon grinned. “Oh really? All these years and you’ve never seen the back of your own character’s car? Well, that’s just something we’ll have to work on.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Brendon could see Keltie and Greta walk off the soundstage and head towards them.
“Are you guys ready for your last scene?” Keltie asked, grinning over at them.
Brendon shrugged. “I really think they could have come up with something better than this.”
Greta laughed. “You didn’t honestly expect them to take your road head idea seriously, did you?”
“Hey,” Brendon objected, “sex sells.”
“Well, at least they went with the car accident thing,” Ryan reasoned. “See, Brendon, they take some of your suggestions seriously.”
“And they had your characters come to an understanding,” Keltie pointed out.
Brendon glared. “Ryan ODs, and I take him to a hospital, but then we get hit by a truck and die in a fiery explosion of death.”
Keltie nodded. “Just think of all the angst they’ll get to work with for next season!” she exclaimed excitedly. “I think that maybe the show will actually get interesting again. No offense, but you two dying could be the best thing to happen to this show in a long time.”
“Whatever,” Brendon scoffed. “You know you’ll miss me.”
“You’re going off to be a big movie star,” Greta reminded him. “You’ll be fine.”
Brendon stuck his tongue out. “You can only hope that I’ll remember you when I give my Oscar acceptance speech.”
Keltie snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause we got so much recognition for when you won the Emmy. It was all just a big love note to Ross.”
Ryan wrapped one of his long, spindly arms around Brendon’s waist. “It’s not my fault that he’s creepily obsessed with me.”
Brendon pouted. “Not creepy,” he asserted. “Devoted.”
“Creepy,” Keltie seconded. “You should have heard him before the Emmy’s. I had to listen to almost five hours about the color of your hair and how your fingers were so sexy.” She took a minute. “It was definitely creepy.”
“Keltie!” Brendon objected. “You weren’t supposed to tell Ryan that!”
She ignored him. “Don’t worry, Ryan, I’ll tell you everything later. Actually, we should have a big dinner, just you, me, Jon, Spencer, Shane, Pete, and everyone else Brendon lamented about you to.”
“You really, really don’t have to do that,” Brendon gritted through his teeth.
Ryan grinned. “That sounds perfect, Keltie.”
“Spencer told me all about your moping!” Brendon exclaimed, but Ryan didn’t blush, just laughed.
“Of course he did. And I was pathetic without you. I’m not afraid to admit it.” He kissed the top of Brendon’s head.
Brendon relented. “Well, I guess I was pretty pathetic without you, too.”
Ryan grinned and kissed him fully on the mouth. “I knew it.”
“Boys, we’re ready for you on set,” Shane yelled.
Pulling Brendon after him, Ryan smiled back at him. “I hope they don’t ruin the car too much for this scene. If I recall correctly, we have a date later.”
Brendon just grinned.
*End*
Index
Other Stories