Fic: Footnote in a Fairy Tale 1/2
Title: Footnote in a Fairy Tale
Author: jacqui_hw
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Word Count: 13,045
Warnings: Sex, Language
Summary: Post-split, set in the near future.
Ryan stood at the bar and sipped his drink, watching the crowd, waiting until he found whatever it was he'd been needing for the last few days. Ever since they'd arrived in London there'd been a feeling in the pit of his stomach, that something had to happen. He needed change, he needed excitement.
AN: A giant thank you to ditchwitchbitch for the awesome beta work, help and support she has given me in writing this.
Footnote in a Fairy Tale
The club was hot and dark. There were too many people crammed into the tiny space. They weren't so much dancing as grinding against each other to the music. One heated, sticky mass of hormones.
Ryan stood at the bar and sipped his drink, watching the crowd, waiting until he found whatever it was he'd been needing for the last few days. Ever since they'd arrived in London there'd been a feeling in the pit of his stomach, that something had to happen. He needed change, he needed excitement. As Jon had put it ever so simply, he needed to get laid. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he'd know it when he saw it. He ordered another drink. The song changed to something a little slower and he could feel the bass line pounding in him, urging him forward, into the crowd. He downed his drink in one long swallow and walked out onto the dance-floor. He moved with the music, through writhing sea of bodies, enjoying the feeling of being pushed and pulled every which way. His eyes ran slowly over the people nearby, still searching.
Eventually, he found him. The guy was his height, dark hair obviously styled, but starting to curl a little at the nape of his neck, in the heat. Ryan couldn't see his face, only the hard lines of his back and shoulders under the ridiculous purple t-shirt and tight black jeans that clung to his hips and ass like a second skin. He was dancing with someone, but not touching, a casual twirl of his hips that Ryan took to mean he hadn't found what he was looking for either.
Ryan moved closer, glad for the unceasing crush of the crowd that let him slide up against the guy's back, his hands going immediately to the guy's swaying hips. They fit together effortlessly. Ryan smiled and pressed a feather-light kiss to to the curve of the guy's shoulder. He felt the guy's hips twitch under his hands and press back against him. The guy's hands covered Ryan's and he leaned back against Ryan's chest. Ryan felt his skin tingling, the alcohol mixing with the music in his blood, making everything race a little faster, heart pound a little harder. Ryan rocked forward with the beat and bit back a moan as his erection rubbed against the guy's ass.
"You wanna get out of here?" he murmured hotly into the guy's ear.
The guy jerked back, suddenly, away from Ryan, spinning quickly to stare at him.
Oh holy fuck.
Brendon.
They watched each other for a moment. Ryan couldn't speak, didn't want to speak. He didn't want to deal with this, whatever this was. All he knew was that he'd been waiting for something and Brendon was it. His hands found Brendon's hips again and tugged him back against him, so they stood chest to chest, hips molded together as they swayed to the music.
Ryan watched Brendon's eyes fall shut and felt his breath hitch against his cheek. Ryan tilted his head, ever so slightly, smiling as their noses brushed, and sealed his lips to Brendon's. He couldn't hear Brendon's moan of surrender over the music, but he felt it with every inch of his body, as Brendon pressed himself closer along Ryan's length and ran his tongue over Ryan's lower lip. Ryan opened for him at once, sliding his hands up to Brendon's hair and tugging a little, as his tongue slid against Brendon's.
They pulled apart, gasping into each other's mouths. Brendon's eyes were still closed when he rested his forehead against Ryan's.
"Do you have a place?" he asked, pushing his hips closer, grinding a little. Ryan could feel he was hard. It took a moment for Ryan to realize what Brendon had asked and another to get the point.
"My hotel isn't far," he replied and grabbed Brendon's hand. They swayed through the crowd towards the exit. There was a row of cabs outside the door and Ryan tugged Brendon into the first one, stammering out the name of his hotel as Brendon fell against him, slid his hand up the inside of Ryan's thigh and pressed his hand against Ryan's straining dick.
"What's your name?" Brendon murmured in his ear. Ryan would have laughed, because this whole thing was so stupid and so insane, but Brendon's tongue flicked out to lick a drop of sweat from Ryan's neck and Ryan forgot everything that existed outside of them, right now.
"No names," he gasped, his eyes meeting Brendon's for a moment before their mouth crashed back together.
The journey to the hotel was short and Ryan didn't remember any of it. He tossed what he hoped was the correct kind of bill through the window to the driver and caught Brendon's hand again, pulling him inside, across the lobby, into the elevator. They emerged on the fourth floor, breathless and panting. Ryan stalked along the corridor, leading Brendon to his room as quickly as possible.
Brendon's lips were on his neck, hands resting on his hips, as Ryan fumbled the door open and pulled him inside. They stumbled towards the bed and Ryan took the opportunity to slide his hands under Brendon's shirt, enjoying the feel of smooth skin under his fingers. Brendon grinned against his lips and tugged Ryan's shirt over his head. He kissed along Ryan's jaw and down his neck, stopping at the curve to let his teeth scrape lightly at the skin, before sucking gently. Ryan moaned and let his head fall forward onto Brendon's shoulder.
"Fuck."
Brendon's hands were busy with his belt and zipper; Ryan slid his own down to Brendon's ass.
"You want to help me?"
Ryan stepped back and gave Brendon a firm push, sending him onto his back on the bed. Brendon laughed and quickly wriggled out of his jeans, pushing off his shoes as he went. Then he lay back, wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked himself slowly as he watched Ryan undress.
"Jesus," Ryan hissed, almost falling as he struggled to get out of his jeans faster. Brendon made a muffled snorting noise and Ryan's lips twitched. He fumbled for his wallet and the condom he'd shoved in there at the start of the tour just to shut Jon up. Brendon moaned and Ryan turned his full attention back to him, staring at him for a moment, completely caught up the sight of Brendon touching himself, with his other hand outstretched towards Ryan. He moved towards Brendon instinctively, and crawled up the bed to hover over him.
Brendon's free hand wrapped around Ryan's dick and started to stroke him in time. Ryan rocked into his fist and his eyes fell closed at the sensation. He caught Brendon's lips with his own again and kissed him, hard but lazy. He caught Brendon's lower lip and sucked gently, earning a moan, before sliding down Brendon's body and wrapping his lips around the head of Brendon's cock.
Brendon gasped and his eyes flew open. Ryan stared up at him through his lashes, watching the emotions play across Brendon's face. He smiled around his dick and sank a little lower. He pulled Brendon's hand away and it went immediately to his head, stroking over his hair. Ryan moved his right hand to circle the base of Brendon's cock, squeezing gently, stroking his thumb up the shaft as his tongue slid down. Brendon moaned and scrambled a little, pulling his knees up until his feet were planted flat on the bed, on either side of Ryan's shoulders. Ryan pulled back and circled his tongue around the head and then sucked two fingers into his mouth, slicking them as he stroked Brendon with his left hand.
He thrust his fingers inside Brendon slowly, scissoring them, stretching him. Brendon's hands were fisted in his hair, pulling and pushing him where he wanted and needed. Ryan kept one hand firmly on Brendon's hip, preventing him from thrusting up into his mouth too much. He added a third finger, crooking his fingers slightly. Brendon shuddered, head thrown back.
"Come on, fucking.. Do it now."
Ryan moved back up Brendon's body and kissed him fiercely, feeling Brendon's arms circle his waist as his hand searched for the condom and swiftly tore it open.
"How do you want to do this?"
Brendon rolled over, breathing hard, and pushed himself onto his hands and knees. Ryan rolled the condom on, keeping his eyes on line of Brendon's back, the curve of his ass. He was trembling a little. Ryan realised he was too. He ran one hand along Brendon's side and leaned in to kiss his hip.
"Wait," Ryan murmured and rolled awkwardly off the bed, to his knees in front of his suitcase.
"What the fuck?" Brendon groaned, twisting his head around in time to see Ryan grab a small tube of lube. "Couldn't you have thought about that sooner?"
Ryan was back beside him in a second, slicking the lube over his cock. "Would you rather I'd forgotten altogether?"
Brendon let out a harsh, guttural laugh and rocked back towards Ryan. "Come on."
Ryan slid inside him slowly. He held Brendon steady for a moment, feeling him adjust, waiting until he pushed back onto Ryan's cock and moaned. Ryan pulled back and then slammed forward into him. The headboard hit the wall. Brendon buried his face in the pillow and rocked back.
"Fuck, yes, please..."
Ryan fucked him, slow and hard, enjoying the feel of Brendon wrapped around him, his moans urging him on. More, more, more, he needed... Ryan fell forward, molding his chest to Brendon's back, changing the angle. He slowed down until he was barely moving at all. Felt each and every one of Brendon's gasps. He pressed a kiss to the nape of Brendon's neck and then dragged his tongue along his spine.
He felt Brendon begin to shake and reached for his cock, stroking him quickly as he increased the pace of this thrusts, slamming into him, reaching out for that perfect spot, perfect moment, until he was there, something harsh and ragged dropping from his lips as he felt Brendon spill over his hand.
---
Brendon woke with a start and it took him a moment to remember where he was. The room was dark, but the curtains were still pulled back, allowing the street lamps to cast a strange glow across the wall facing the bed. The arm around his waist felt heavy and warm. He didn't want to think about how comfortable he was. He turned his head, wondering if he'd imagined the whole thing and the person lying next to him was a complete stranger.
It was still Ryan, though Brendon considered that that probably didn't make him any less of a stranger right now. He looked young, with his face pushed into the pillow, hair falling in front of his eyes, mouth open slightly. If Brendon concentrated hard enough, he could picture Ryan just like this, in another bed, years ago and half a world away.
Well not just like this. This was brand new. The desire to close that tiny distance between them and kiss Ryan awake was still there, as strong as it had been hours before in the club. Brendon was sure he hadn't felt that way the previous day or week or month or year. Nothing had prepared him for the shock of seeing Ryan, but nothing could have stopped him from ending up here, like this. And when Ryan woke up...
Brendon's thought process came to an abrupt halt. When Ryan woke up, this would be over. One night. No acknowledgement that they'd even met before, nevermind shared a life for five years. The rules had been plain right from the start. Ryan was going to go home and carry on doing whatever Ryan wanted to do, the way he always had. Brendon really only had one option if he wanted to maintain his dignity.
With one last, curious look at Ryan's face, Brendon lifted the arm from around his waist and slid out of the bed. He fumbled into his clothes, trying to stay as quiet as possible. He checked for his wallet, phone and keys and let himself out of the hotel room.
---
Ryan woke up alone.
His hand stretched out across the bed, searching, but the sheets were cold and empty. He kept his eyes closed, hoping to convince himself, just for another few minutes, that Brendon was still there, in the room. Maybe in the shower. Singing and laughing to himself, just like every other morning, but this time, this time it was for Ryan, about Ryan, because of Ryan.
There was no noise coming from the bathroom though. No shower. No singing.
Ryan wiped the sleep from his eyes and stretched.
No Brendon.
He tried to tell himself he wasn't surprised, that he hadn't been expecting Brendon to be there, warm and snuggled close. That he didn't care one way or another. He pushed the covers back with a self-deprecating snort. That was a lie. He stumbled sleepily towards the bathroom, turned on the shower and stared at himself in the mirror until it started to steam up.
"Well," he whispered to himself, leaning closer until his forehead was touching the glass. "That hurts."
An hour later he was desperate to silence the stream of consciousness in his head, that was reminding him over and over of every mistake he'd ever made in his life and how this one, this one night, was the biggest and the stupidest. He knocked on Jon's door until it swung open and Jon stood in front of him, looking half-asleep but worried.
"What? What's wrong with you? Do you need a doctor?"
Ryan pushed past him. "Why would I need a doctor?"
"It's seven am. I'd think you just got back but those aren't the clothes you were wearing when you went out."
Ryan shrugged, embarrassed, and pulled open the curtains. "I can get up early when I want to. Let's go out. Lets explore."
Jon looked dazed. "I repeat. It's seven o'clock in the morning." He yawned and then fixed Ryan with a curious look. "Did something happen last night?"
Ryan thought about Brendon. He thought about smooth, slick skin, hands grasping and pulling and pushing, never leaving one another. He thought about hot, breathtaking kisses, his hands in Brendon's hair, his mouth on Brendon's throat, teeth grazing his hip, a gasping, exhilarated laugh.
"No," he said, peering out of the window at the rainy London streets. "Nothing happened."
---
The first class lounge was busy, but no one was bothering them. Brendon wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. Spencer would say it was, if he were awake and Brendon could raise the energy to say the words aloud, but Spencer had curled up in his chair a second after sitting down and mumbled, "Sleeping. Wake me when they flight's called. Not before," in a tone that meant, "If you disturb me before I have to get on the plane, the building had better be on fire."
Brendon had played every game on his iPhone, twice, and used Grndr to confirm to himself that the guy in the corner definitely was gay and definitely was looking at him like that. He'd leaned a little closer to Spencer and laid his head on his shoulder for ten minutes until the guy had stopped staring.
The flight to LA wasn't due to depart for another two hours and Brendon was bored. Touring Europe was always amazing, but it did mean a stupid amount of time sitting around airport lounges. Starbucks was calling him, but the two empty cups lying at his feet told him he'd already had enough.
With a sigh, he swung his legs up onto the seat next to him and started scrolling through his address book. Family he'd be seeing soon enough, Eric he'd be seeing in a week, Jon... Brendon's thumb hovered, wanting to scroll past, but feeling something like guilt swell up inside him. The last time he'd talked to Jon had been a month ago, and that had been a quick "We'll catch up soon dude, I promise. It's just hectic right now. I'll call."
He hadn't called. It wasn't his fault though, he assured himself. He had been busy. It wasn't his fault that Jon wasn't touring with them. Jon had no one to blame for that but himself.
Now, however, Brendon felt like a tool for not even trying. Jon was his friend. He loved Jon. It wasn't Jon's fault that Ryan was, well, Ryan. He pressed call and took a deep breath with every shrill brrrr of the dial.
"Hello?" a sleep-muffled voice answered, just as Brendon thought the phone would click over to voicemail. There was a stifled yawn and then, "This is Jon's phone."
Brendon's heart was pounding so hard he was half afraid it would beat right out of his chest. A lump rose in his throat and he couldn't, literally couldn't, speak. Or think. Or move.
Ryan.
There was another noise at the end of the line, the sound of someone sitting up maybe, shifting the phone from ear to ear. Maybe even checking the caller ID, if the tiny hitch of breath was anything to go by.
"Brendon?"
The sound of his name on Ryan's lips catapulted him into action and he quickly hung-up, switching the phone off for good measure. He pushed it to the bottom of his backpack and grabbed his wallet.
Coffee sounded like an excellent idea now.
---
It had been a long month, what with the end of their first tiny European tour and then back home to get ready for their first full US one. Ryan felt as though he hadn't slept since they left London for Paris, and maybe he hadn't, at least not more than a couple of hours at a time. Maybe he should have been glad that his body made it impossible to lie to himself when he had a problem, but really, he was just exhausted and no amount of sitting up at night thinking about things was going to change what had happened.
Alex had been strumming out the same few chords over and over for ten minutes. It was possible Ryan was supposed to know the song, since the tune was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't concentrate. He walked the length of the room again and pretended he didn't notice the way Jon's eyes were following him everywhere.
Maybe if he told Jon the truth, got it all out into the open, he could finally sleep. Maybe Jon would be able to fix what he couldn't. Ryan reached for his own guitar, but he hesitated before his hand had closed around the neck, and he spun away. His hands were shaking.
"Can you shut up for five minutes and let me think?"
Alex stopped immediately and looked up, surprised. Jon sat forward on sofa and said softly, "Do you need something?"
Ryan pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I need.. I need..."
The words were tripping over themselves in his head. He'd been having the same argument with himself for a month. Say it say it say it say it.
"Ryan?" Jon's voice sounded like it was coming from a mile away, but there were hands on his shoulders, shaking him, holding him up. He felt a thumb against his jaw, forcing his head up. "Ryan, open your eyes. Ryan..."
"I think I'm gay."
The words slipped out before Ryan could catch them and his eyes flew open, meeting Jon's immediately. That was not what he'd meant to say. Nothing like it. What possible corner of his mind thought that would be more constructive than "I slept with Brendon and now I can't get to sleep"? He felt his shoulders slump, Jon's hands the only things keeping him steady and still. He didn't dare look at Alex. It was all he could do to keep looking at Jon.
"Okay," Jon said quietly and then pulled Ryan into a hug, wrapping his arms around him tightly, keeping him close. "Did you think I was going to care?"
The lump in his throat made it difficult for Ryan to answer, but it could stay there because he wasn't going to cry. He shook his head as best he could, as it was, wedged against Jon's shoulder.
"You're so stupid sometimes," Jon told him, serious and affectionate. Ryan clung to him, huffing out a laugh.
"Besides," Alex piped up from across the room as he resumed strumming. "The succession of blondes you bring home would seem to indicate bisexual anyway."
Ryan dared a look at Alex, who was watching him much the way he always had. "Don't you want to come and hug me too?"
Alex grinned. "You seem to be pretty well taken care of."
"You can never have too many hugs," Jon said, sparing Ryan from having to ask.
The strumming stopped and seconds later a warm body pressed close against Ryan's back. Alex laid his cheek on Ryan's hair and said into his ear, "Jon's right. You really are stupid."
Ryan closed his eyes and relaxed.
---
There were three windows and seventeen tabs open on Brendon's laptop. Brendon himself was curled up in the corner of the sofa, computer resting on his knees which were pulled up towards his chest. It was Brendon's favourite spot these days because it meant no one else could see the screen and ask him awkward questions like, "Why are there seventeen pages of stuff about Ryan open on your computer?"
Some of it, he reasoned to himself, was stuff he needed to know. Stuff that could, technically, be about Jon too. Stuff like tour information or interviews about the album. Some of it, yes Brendon had to admit, was a little weirder. That fact that he refreshed Ryan's Twitter page more than his own, was possibly a cause for concern. As was the fact he was spending an increasing amount of time lurking on LiveJournal communities. It was possible that he'd picked that up from Pete though. Or maybe he was just an attention-whore, who wanted to know everything people were saying about him and his friends. No one ever thought of that did they? He picked up his can of Red Bull from the table behind him, shook it to check and then finished off the last of it.
The only thing he couldn't justify to himself, and therefore to anyone else, were the nine tabs of photos that he couldn't bring himself to close. They'd been sitting there in a window since the day he'd opened them, almost a week earlier. Pictures of Ryan and Jon in the studio, pictures of Ryan holding cats and pretend wives, pictures of Ryan just walking down the street looking... And that was what always stopped him in his tracks and caused him to re-evaluate his whole existence because really, when exactly did Ryan get hot?
Brendon, of course, had always known that Ryan was attractive, in the same way that he knew that Spencer and Jon were attractive, and that he himself wasn't entirely unfortunate looking. But when they'd met, Ryan had been wearing a worn My Chemical Romance t-shirt and ugly jeans that were a bit too big and his hair had covered most of his face and Brendon had never really stopped thinking about him like that. Now it seemed as though, overnight, Ryan had transformed from awkward, average dork, into... well, this.
"What are you staring at?"
Brendon jumped and automatically slammed the laptop closed. Spencer was standing in the kitchen doorway, holding a cup of coffee, now with a look of amused suspicion on his face.
"Nothing. I'm not staring at anything. What are you staring at?"
"You're very twitchy lately," Spencer said, walking towards him. "Are you okay?" He sat down on the other end of the sofa.
"I'm fine. I'm great. Yeah," Brendon answered. As long as you don't count the fact that I seem to have become obsessed with your best friend. Oh and I slept with him...
"How are you?"
"Increasingly worried about your mental health."
Brendon pulled a face at Spencer. "You're hilarious."
"I like to think so," he agreed pleasantly and sipped his coffee. "Seriously, you've been acting all weird ever since we got back from..." Spencer narrowed his eyes at Brendon. "Did you knock someone up?"
"I haven't slept with a girl since Sarah and I broke up," Brendon said honestly. Then he punched Spencer's arm. "Thanks for having some faith in me though. Douche."
"Be careful!" Spencer laughed, protecting his coffee. He kicked at Brendon's leg. "You're a douche."
Brendon sat back and opened his laptop again, making sure Spencer couldn't see the screen, even though he could feel Spencer watching him.
"So you haven't slept with any girls since Sarah," Spencer mused, sipping his coffee again. "What about guys?"
Brendon felt his face begin to flame and was glad the computer screen masked most of his face. "What about them?"
Spencer's hand fell onto one of Brendon's bare feet, which were worming their way between the sofa cushions, trying to stay warm. "Brendon Urie, is there someone special in your life you're not telling me about?" Spencer's voice was amused, teasing.
Brendon looked at the picture of Ryan currently filling his screen and wondered what had happened. "No," Brendon answered, closing all of the windows very deliberately before he turned off the laptop. "No there's not."
---
The club looked the same as any other from the outside which possibly lulled Ryan into a false sense of security. Jon had announced they were going out, Alex had thrown him his coat, and Ryan had been in the car, speeding towards the city before he even realised what was happening. It wasn't until he sat down at a table, beer in hand, that he realised there were no women there. Not one.
"What the hell?" he said, looking around to confirm his suspicions. "Is this a gay club?"
Jon smiled and clapped his hand down on Ryan's shoulder. "You said you thought you were gay. This is a good way to find out."
Ryan stared at him, open-mouthed. "No, it's really not."
Alex rolled his eyes and looked around. "Alright, who do you like?"
"I'm not doing this," Ryan huffed, taking a long drink of his beer and slouching down in his seat. "I can't believe you brought me here."
Jon's smile faded into a confused frown. "Don't you want to figure this out? I thought you were confused."
"I am confused," Ryan hissed, sitting forward again and glancing around to see if anyone had heard. This whole situation was ridiculous. "But I know I'm attracted to guys." Well one guy. But that meant gay right? Or bi, like Alex had said. Ryan sighed. He couldn't deny being confused at least.
"What about that guy?" Alex asked, nudging Ryan's arm with one hand, while he pointed across the bar with the other. Ryan grabbed hold of his wrist and yanked him closer, getting his attention.
"Stop it. Jesus, just stop."
Jon sighed. "We're just trying to help."
"There's no need to be embarrassed," Alex told him, pulling his arm free. "It's not like anyone in here knows who you are." He smirked. "And even if they did, no one's going to be super shocked."
Ryan kicked him.
"Okay, okay," Jon said, holding up his hands to prevent a fight. "Ryan, why don't you just tell us what you're looking for."
Ryan glared at him. "The exit?"
"In guys," Jon amended, ignoring the venom dripping from Ryan's tone. "What's your type?"
Ryan took another drink, determined not to answer and make everything even worse. Alex and Jon, however, fixed their attention on him and waited. And waited. And waited. The more the minutes ticked by, the more Jon's smirk grew. Ryan really wanted to punch him.
"I hate you," he spat eventually and looked away from them out to the writhing bodies on the dance-floor. He finished his beer and propped his elbows on the table. "Fine," he said and proceeded to lie through his teeth. "Tall, blonde, muscular. Blue eyes, strong-jaw..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Alex said. "I can't keep up." His eyes were back to scanning the crowd. "What about him?"
Ryan didn't even look. He was too busy staring down Jon, who was looking altogether too smug. "What?"
"You're lying," Jon said simply. "Why?"
"I'm not lying," Ryan protested and, sensing that he'd only find escape through Alex's suggestions of potential boyfriends, lovers, whatever, he turned his attention to the guy Alex was pointing at.
He was tall, blonde, everything Ryan had asked for and didn't really want. There was no denying the guy was attractive, but Ryan wasn't attracted. He looked around the club, ignoring Alex's suggestions and trying to find something, anything, that would help him figure this thing out. Too short, too tall, wrong hair, wrong nose, beautiful eyes, amazing laugh, not good enough, not right.
Not Brendon.
"I need another drink," Ryan said, standing suddenly, surprising both Jon and Alex as he practically ran to the bar.
He stood for a moment, leaning on the counter, trying to clear his head. Jon and Alex were only trying to help, he knew that, but this was so far from what he needed... He looked around the club, letting his eyes skim over the guys there, much as they had a month ago in London, waiting until he felt the same tug that he'd felt when he found Brendon in the crowd. He didn't feel anything. He didn't know whether that was good or bad. He ordered two drinks and downed one as soon as it was placed in front of him. He was going home after the second one, with or without his friends.
---
"So here's the thing," Spencer said as he walked into the living room on Friday night. Brendon hummed absently, more interested in the penguin documentary he'd found on the Discovery Channel. Clearly though, Spencer wanted his attention and when he didn't continue with what the thing actually was, Brendon had no choice but to look up at him. Spencer was fastening the buttons on his shirt sleeves and looking darkly amused.
"Aren't you a little over-dressed for a Criminal Minds marathon?" Brendon's smirk vanished almost as soon as it had appeared. Some super-cool rockstars they were.
"The thing is, you're bugging me," Spencer continued his earlier thought, ignoring Brendon. "You sit around here all day, moping. I don't know what you're moping about, but I can't deal with it anymore. So we're going out, we're getting you a few drinks and then we're getting you laid."
"Why Spencer, does Haley know how you feel about me?" Brendon laughed, right before a shirt flew across the room and landed on his head.
"That you irritate the shit out of me? Yes. Get dressed." Spencer pulled on his jacket and turned away to check himself in the mirror. Brendon watched him, amused for another minute before standing and changing his shirt.
He objected to the term moping, but only in his head because Spencer was prone to pulling out a dictionary and proving Brendon wrong. He wasn't sure when that had started. Probably around the same time Ryan and his encyclopedic knowledge of boring shit like that, decided it'd rather be off getting drunk with Alex Greenwald than, you know, spending time with him. Them. Whatever. He didn't care. And he wasn't moping.
"You are moping," Spencer insisted, tossing Brendon his wallet. "So you can tell me why or we can go get drunk."
Telling Spencer the truth about Ryan and what happened in London sounded as appealing as telling his mother about it, so he smiled brightly and switched off the TV. "Why couldn't I have gotten Jon?"
It was supposed to be a joke, but Brendon wished he could take it back the minute he'd said it. Sure, sure, nothing in his life seemed to make sense anymore. Yes, he was angry with Ryan for making him feel this way. Yes, he wished he could go back and push Ryan away and tell him no, fuck you, what the hell? No, he couldn't sleep and when he did it was fitful and unsatisfying, filled with long limbs and soft kisses and far, far too much fucking Ryan. But he could deal with that. Ryan was at least avoiding him for a reason. Brendon wasn't exactly sure when Ryan and Spencer had last spoken, but he knew it was longer than ever before. Before the tour at least. And if he had to put money on it, he'd bet against it being Spencer's fault.
Spencer looked away, missing Brendon's apologetic grimace. "Are you ready?"
Brendon stepped closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Hey," he said, brightly, "don't tell me you don't sometimes wish you'd got Jon too. I know you too well Spencer Smith, and Jon Walker is awesome."
Spencer laughed and relaxed, catching Brendon's wrist and dragging him towards the door.
---
Ryan was maybe five steps from their table when something made him stop. He willed himself to move, telling himself that even if it was who he thought it was, that was just another reason to get out of this place as fast as he could. His legs betrayed him however, and turned him around, seemingly of their own accord.
His eyes found Brendon easily, leaning against the wall at the far end of the room. He was chatting casually with a guy (a guy, Ryan couldn't help but notice, who looked nothing like him), head tilted back, smile blinding and caught in a laugh. He took a sip of something flourescent and green, and then looked down at it surprised when he reached the bottom. He laughed again and jiggled the glass. Spencer appeared at his side as if from nowhere, and took the glass from Brendon. They spoke for a moment, eyes bright and glittering and happy. Ryan bit down on a surge of jealousy that thankfully wasn't in related to the guy who was now rubbing Brendon's arm. Not wholly related to it any way.
Spencer moved away, back towards the bar, swaying through the crowd in time to the music. Ryan hesitated, debating for a moment whether it would be better to follow Spencer, but his feet carried him forward again, without his consent, in Brendon's direction.
He knew the exact moment Brendon saw him. Their eyes met, both wary and confused, but Ryan ignored it. It was still there. That desperate need for Brendon, exactly the same as the last time. Brendon shook his head slowly and Ryan knew that wasn't anything to do with him. The guy was still rubbing Brendon's arm, still talking. Brendon wasn't even paying attention.
Ryan glanced around, finding the emergency exit quickly. He caught Brendon's eye and nodded in that direction, not waiting for any form of response before circling the dancefloor and escaping though the door, out to the alley at the back. He took a couple of deep breaths and leaned heavily on the wall opposite the door. What the actual fuck was he doing?
The door opened behind him less than a minute later.
"Hey."
He turned to find Brendon watching him warily, hands already fishing a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket.
"Hey."
"You want one?" Brendon asked, offering the packet as he lit the cigarette in his mouth.
Ryan shook his head. His hands were shaking too much. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Brendon chuckled, blowing out a stream of smoke. "No shit."
"Are you... How are you?" Ryan wasn't sure exactly what he'd thought would happen when he started this, but he was sure it hadn't been exchanging awkward pleasantries. Luckily Brendon seemed to have the same idea.
"You didn't drag me out here to ask how I was, Ryan." He took another long drag on the cigarette and stepped closer, crowding Ryan against the wall.
"No," Ryan murmured. "I didn't."
Brendon flicked the cigarette butt away, his hands finding Ryan's hips instead. "So what did you want?"
Ryan's hands slid up into Brendon's hair of their own volition and pulled him close. Brendon rolled his hips against Ryan's, pushing him back into the wall. Ryan's eyes fell closed and his mouth opened on a groan. Brendon took the advantage and kissed him hard.
"What the fuck?"
"Oh my God."
Ryan froze, seconds or maybe hours after they'd started, head tilted back against the wall, back arched towards Brendon, one leg caught high up around Brendon's thigh. He felt Brendon stiffen at the same time, and their eyes met, just as nervous and confused as before. Ryan pushed at Brendon's shoulders until he stepped away, letting Ryan find his feet again.
In the doorway to the club, Spencer and Jon were staring at them, their faces each displaying exactly the same look of shock. Ryan wanted to laugh. Instead he chanced a look at Brendon, who was backing away slowly, down the alley, while studiously watching his shoes.
"Ryan?"
That was Spencer, and Ryan just couldn't stand to do this there, at that moment, when Brendon was so close, when he could still taste him on his lips. Without another word, he bolted in the opposite direction.
Part Two
Author: jacqui_hw
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Word Count: 13,045
Warnings: Sex, Language
Summary: Post-split, set in the near future.
Ryan stood at the bar and sipped his drink, watching the crowd, waiting until he found whatever it was he'd been needing for the last few days. Ever since they'd arrived in London there'd been a feeling in the pit of his stomach, that something had to happen. He needed change, he needed excitement.
AN: A giant thank you to ditchwitchbitch for the awesome beta work, help and support she has given me in writing this.
Footnote in a Fairy Tale
The club was hot and dark. There were too many people crammed into the tiny space. They weren't so much dancing as grinding against each other to the music. One heated, sticky mass of hormones.
Ryan stood at the bar and sipped his drink, watching the crowd, waiting until he found whatever it was he'd been needing for the last few days. Ever since they'd arrived in London there'd been a feeling in the pit of his stomach, that something had to happen. He needed change, he needed excitement. As Jon had put it ever so simply, he needed to get laid. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he'd know it when he saw it. He ordered another drink. The song changed to something a little slower and he could feel the bass line pounding in him, urging him forward, into the crowd. He downed his drink in one long swallow and walked out onto the dance-floor. He moved with the music, through writhing sea of bodies, enjoying the feeling of being pushed and pulled every which way. His eyes ran slowly over the people nearby, still searching.
Eventually, he found him. The guy was his height, dark hair obviously styled, but starting to curl a little at the nape of his neck, in the heat. Ryan couldn't see his face, only the hard lines of his back and shoulders under the ridiculous purple t-shirt and tight black jeans that clung to his hips and ass like a second skin. He was dancing with someone, but not touching, a casual twirl of his hips that Ryan took to mean he hadn't found what he was looking for either.
Ryan moved closer, glad for the unceasing crush of the crowd that let him slide up against the guy's back, his hands going immediately to the guy's swaying hips. They fit together effortlessly. Ryan smiled and pressed a feather-light kiss to to the curve of the guy's shoulder. He felt the guy's hips twitch under his hands and press back against him. The guy's hands covered Ryan's and he leaned back against Ryan's chest. Ryan felt his skin tingling, the alcohol mixing with the music in his blood, making everything race a little faster, heart pound a little harder. Ryan rocked forward with the beat and bit back a moan as his erection rubbed against the guy's ass.
"You wanna get out of here?" he murmured hotly into the guy's ear.
The guy jerked back, suddenly, away from Ryan, spinning quickly to stare at him.
Oh holy fuck.
Brendon.
They watched each other for a moment. Ryan couldn't speak, didn't want to speak. He didn't want to deal with this, whatever this was. All he knew was that he'd been waiting for something and Brendon was it. His hands found Brendon's hips again and tugged him back against him, so they stood chest to chest, hips molded together as they swayed to the music.
Ryan watched Brendon's eyes fall shut and felt his breath hitch against his cheek. Ryan tilted his head, ever so slightly, smiling as their noses brushed, and sealed his lips to Brendon's. He couldn't hear Brendon's moan of surrender over the music, but he felt it with every inch of his body, as Brendon pressed himself closer along Ryan's length and ran his tongue over Ryan's lower lip. Ryan opened for him at once, sliding his hands up to Brendon's hair and tugging a little, as his tongue slid against Brendon's.
They pulled apart, gasping into each other's mouths. Brendon's eyes were still closed when he rested his forehead against Ryan's.
"Do you have a place?" he asked, pushing his hips closer, grinding a little. Ryan could feel he was hard. It took a moment for Ryan to realize what Brendon had asked and another to get the point.
"My hotel isn't far," he replied and grabbed Brendon's hand. They swayed through the crowd towards the exit. There was a row of cabs outside the door and Ryan tugged Brendon into the first one, stammering out the name of his hotel as Brendon fell against him, slid his hand up the inside of Ryan's thigh and pressed his hand against Ryan's straining dick.
"What's your name?" Brendon murmured in his ear. Ryan would have laughed, because this whole thing was so stupid and so insane, but Brendon's tongue flicked out to lick a drop of sweat from Ryan's neck and Ryan forgot everything that existed outside of them, right now.
"No names," he gasped, his eyes meeting Brendon's for a moment before their mouth crashed back together.
The journey to the hotel was short and Ryan didn't remember any of it. He tossed what he hoped was the correct kind of bill through the window to the driver and caught Brendon's hand again, pulling him inside, across the lobby, into the elevator. They emerged on the fourth floor, breathless and panting. Ryan stalked along the corridor, leading Brendon to his room as quickly as possible.
Brendon's lips were on his neck, hands resting on his hips, as Ryan fumbled the door open and pulled him inside. They stumbled towards the bed and Ryan took the opportunity to slide his hands under Brendon's shirt, enjoying the feel of smooth skin under his fingers. Brendon grinned against his lips and tugged Ryan's shirt over his head. He kissed along Ryan's jaw and down his neck, stopping at the curve to let his teeth scrape lightly at the skin, before sucking gently. Ryan moaned and let his head fall forward onto Brendon's shoulder.
"Fuck."
Brendon's hands were busy with his belt and zipper; Ryan slid his own down to Brendon's ass.
"You want to help me?"
Ryan stepped back and gave Brendon a firm push, sending him onto his back on the bed. Brendon laughed and quickly wriggled out of his jeans, pushing off his shoes as he went. Then he lay back, wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked himself slowly as he watched Ryan undress.
"Jesus," Ryan hissed, almost falling as he struggled to get out of his jeans faster. Brendon made a muffled snorting noise and Ryan's lips twitched. He fumbled for his wallet and the condom he'd shoved in there at the start of the tour just to shut Jon up. Brendon moaned and Ryan turned his full attention back to him, staring at him for a moment, completely caught up the sight of Brendon touching himself, with his other hand outstretched towards Ryan. He moved towards Brendon instinctively, and crawled up the bed to hover over him.
Brendon's free hand wrapped around Ryan's dick and started to stroke him in time. Ryan rocked into his fist and his eyes fell closed at the sensation. He caught Brendon's lips with his own again and kissed him, hard but lazy. He caught Brendon's lower lip and sucked gently, earning a moan, before sliding down Brendon's body and wrapping his lips around the head of Brendon's cock.
Brendon gasped and his eyes flew open. Ryan stared up at him through his lashes, watching the emotions play across Brendon's face. He smiled around his dick and sank a little lower. He pulled Brendon's hand away and it went immediately to his head, stroking over his hair. Ryan moved his right hand to circle the base of Brendon's cock, squeezing gently, stroking his thumb up the shaft as his tongue slid down. Brendon moaned and scrambled a little, pulling his knees up until his feet were planted flat on the bed, on either side of Ryan's shoulders. Ryan pulled back and circled his tongue around the head and then sucked two fingers into his mouth, slicking them as he stroked Brendon with his left hand.
He thrust his fingers inside Brendon slowly, scissoring them, stretching him. Brendon's hands were fisted in his hair, pulling and pushing him where he wanted and needed. Ryan kept one hand firmly on Brendon's hip, preventing him from thrusting up into his mouth too much. He added a third finger, crooking his fingers slightly. Brendon shuddered, head thrown back.
"Come on, fucking.. Do it now."
Ryan moved back up Brendon's body and kissed him fiercely, feeling Brendon's arms circle his waist as his hand searched for the condom and swiftly tore it open.
"How do you want to do this?"
Brendon rolled over, breathing hard, and pushed himself onto his hands and knees. Ryan rolled the condom on, keeping his eyes on line of Brendon's back, the curve of his ass. He was trembling a little. Ryan realised he was too. He ran one hand along Brendon's side and leaned in to kiss his hip.
"Wait," Ryan murmured and rolled awkwardly off the bed, to his knees in front of his suitcase.
"What the fuck?" Brendon groaned, twisting his head around in time to see Ryan grab a small tube of lube. "Couldn't you have thought about that sooner?"
Ryan was back beside him in a second, slicking the lube over his cock. "Would you rather I'd forgotten altogether?"
Brendon let out a harsh, guttural laugh and rocked back towards Ryan. "Come on."
Ryan slid inside him slowly. He held Brendon steady for a moment, feeling him adjust, waiting until he pushed back onto Ryan's cock and moaned. Ryan pulled back and then slammed forward into him. The headboard hit the wall. Brendon buried his face in the pillow and rocked back.
"Fuck, yes, please..."
Ryan fucked him, slow and hard, enjoying the feel of Brendon wrapped around him, his moans urging him on. More, more, more, he needed... Ryan fell forward, molding his chest to Brendon's back, changing the angle. He slowed down until he was barely moving at all. Felt each and every one of Brendon's gasps. He pressed a kiss to the nape of Brendon's neck and then dragged his tongue along his spine.
He felt Brendon begin to shake and reached for his cock, stroking him quickly as he increased the pace of this thrusts, slamming into him, reaching out for that perfect spot, perfect moment, until he was there, something harsh and ragged dropping from his lips as he felt Brendon spill over his hand.
---
Brendon woke with a start and it took him a moment to remember where he was. The room was dark, but the curtains were still pulled back, allowing the street lamps to cast a strange glow across the wall facing the bed. The arm around his waist felt heavy and warm. He didn't want to think about how comfortable he was. He turned his head, wondering if he'd imagined the whole thing and the person lying next to him was a complete stranger.
It was still Ryan, though Brendon considered that that probably didn't make him any less of a stranger right now. He looked young, with his face pushed into the pillow, hair falling in front of his eyes, mouth open slightly. If Brendon concentrated hard enough, he could picture Ryan just like this, in another bed, years ago and half a world away.
Well not just like this. This was brand new. The desire to close that tiny distance between them and kiss Ryan awake was still there, as strong as it had been hours before in the club. Brendon was sure he hadn't felt that way the previous day or week or month or year. Nothing had prepared him for the shock of seeing Ryan, but nothing could have stopped him from ending up here, like this. And when Ryan woke up...
Brendon's thought process came to an abrupt halt. When Ryan woke up, this would be over. One night. No acknowledgement that they'd even met before, nevermind shared a life for five years. The rules had been plain right from the start. Ryan was going to go home and carry on doing whatever Ryan wanted to do, the way he always had. Brendon really only had one option if he wanted to maintain his dignity.
With one last, curious look at Ryan's face, Brendon lifted the arm from around his waist and slid out of the bed. He fumbled into his clothes, trying to stay as quiet as possible. He checked for his wallet, phone and keys and let himself out of the hotel room.
---
Ryan woke up alone.
His hand stretched out across the bed, searching, but the sheets were cold and empty. He kept his eyes closed, hoping to convince himself, just for another few minutes, that Brendon was still there, in the room. Maybe in the shower. Singing and laughing to himself, just like every other morning, but this time, this time it was for Ryan, about Ryan, because of Ryan.
There was no noise coming from the bathroom though. No shower. No singing.
Ryan wiped the sleep from his eyes and stretched.
No Brendon.
He tried to tell himself he wasn't surprised, that he hadn't been expecting Brendon to be there, warm and snuggled close. That he didn't care one way or another. He pushed the covers back with a self-deprecating snort. That was a lie. He stumbled sleepily towards the bathroom, turned on the shower and stared at himself in the mirror until it started to steam up.
"Well," he whispered to himself, leaning closer until his forehead was touching the glass. "That hurts."
An hour later he was desperate to silence the stream of consciousness in his head, that was reminding him over and over of every mistake he'd ever made in his life and how this one, this one night, was the biggest and the stupidest. He knocked on Jon's door until it swung open and Jon stood in front of him, looking half-asleep but worried.
"What? What's wrong with you? Do you need a doctor?"
Ryan pushed past him. "Why would I need a doctor?"
"It's seven am. I'd think you just got back but those aren't the clothes you were wearing when you went out."
Ryan shrugged, embarrassed, and pulled open the curtains. "I can get up early when I want to. Let's go out. Lets explore."
Jon looked dazed. "I repeat. It's seven o'clock in the morning." He yawned and then fixed Ryan with a curious look. "Did something happen last night?"
Ryan thought about Brendon. He thought about smooth, slick skin, hands grasping and pulling and pushing, never leaving one another. He thought about hot, breathtaking kisses, his hands in Brendon's hair, his mouth on Brendon's throat, teeth grazing his hip, a gasping, exhilarated laugh.
"No," he said, peering out of the window at the rainy London streets. "Nothing happened."
---
The first class lounge was busy, but no one was bothering them. Brendon wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. Spencer would say it was, if he were awake and Brendon could raise the energy to say the words aloud, but Spencer had curled up in his chair a second after sitting down and mumbled, "Sleeping. Wake me when they flight's called. Not before," in a tone that meant, "If you disturb me before I have to get on the plane, the building had better be on fire."
Brendon had played every game on his iPhone, twice, and used Grndr to confirm to himself that the guy in the corner definitely was gay and definitely was looking at him like that. He'd leaned a little closer to Spencer and laid his head on his shoulder for ten minutes until the guy had stopped staring.
The flight to LA wasn't due to depart for another two hours and Brendon was bored. Touring Europe was always amazing, but it did mean a stupid amount of time sitting around airport lounges. Starbucks was calling him, but the two empty cups lying at his feet told him he'd already had enough.
With a sigh, he swung his legs up onto the seat next to him and started scrolling through his address book. Family he'd be seeing soon enough, Eric he'd be seeing in a week, Jon... Brendon's thumb hovered, wanting to scroll past, but feeling something like guilt swell up inside him. The last time he'd talked to Jon had been a month ago, and that had been a quick "We'll catch up soon dude, I promise. It's just hectic right now. I'll call."
He hadn't called. It wasn't his fault though, he assured himself. He had been busy. It wasn't his fault that Jon wasn't touring with them. Jon had no one to blame for that but himself.
Now, however, Brendon felt like a tool for not even trying. Jon was his friend. He loved Jon. It wasn't Jon's fault that Ryan was, well, Ryan. He pressed call and took a deep breath with every shrill brrrr of the dial.
"Hello?" a sleep-muffled voice answered, just as Brendon thought the phone would click over to voicemail. There was a stifled yawn and then, "This is Jon's phone."
Brendon's heart was pounding so hard he was half afraid it would beat right out of his chest. A lump rose in his throat and he couldn't, literally couldn't, speak. Or think. Or move.
Ryan.
There was another noise at the end of the line, the sound of someone sitting up maybe, shifting the phone from ear to ear. Maybe even checking the caller ID, if the tiny hitch of breath was anything to go by.
"Brendon?"
The sound of his name on Ryan's lips catapulted him into action and he quickly hung-up, switching the phone off for good measure. He pushed it to the bottom of his backpack and grabbed his wallet.
Coffee sounded like an excellent idea now.
---
It had been a long month, what with the end of their first tiny European tour and then back home to get ready for their first full US one. Ryan felt as though he hadn't slept since they left London for Paris, and maybe he hadn't, at least not more than a couple of hours at a time. Maybe he should have been glad that his body made it impossible to lie to himself when he had a problem, but really, he was just exhausted and no amount of sitting up at night thinking about things was going to change what had happened.
Alex had been strumming out the same few chords over and over for ten minutes. It was possible Ryan was supposed to know the song, since the tune was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't concentrate. He walked the length of the room again and pretended he didn't notice the way Jon's eyes were following him everywhere.
Maybe if he told Jon the truth, got it all out into the open, he could finally sleep. Maybe Jon would be able to fix what he couldn't. Ryan reached for his own guitar, but he hesitated before his hand had closed around the neck, and he spun away. His hands were shaking.
"Can you shut up for five minutes and let me think?"
Alex stopped immediately and looked up, surprised. Jon sat forward on sofa and said softly, "Do you need something?"
Ryan pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I need.. I need..."
The words were tripping over themselves in his head. He'd been having the same argument with himself for a month. Say it say it say it say it.
"Ryan?" Jon's voice sounded like it was coming from a mile away, but there were hands on his shoulders, shaking him, holding him up. He felt a thumb against his jaw, forcing his head up. "Ryan, open your eyes. Ryan..."
"I think I'm gay."
The words slipped out before Ryan could catch them and his eyes flew open, meeting Jon's immediately. That was not what he'd meant to say. Nothing like it. What possible corner of his mind thought that would be more constructive than "I slept with Brendon and now I can't get to sleep"? He felt his shoulders slump, Jon's hands the only things keeping him steady and still. He didn't dare look at Alex. It was all he could do to keep looking at Jon.
"Okay," Jon said quietly and then pulled Ryan into a hug, wrapping his arms around him tightly, keeping him close. "Did you think I was going to care?"
The lump in his throat made it difficult for Ryan to answer, but it could stay there because he wasn't going to cry. He shook his head as best he could, as it was, wedged against Jon's shoulder.
"You're so stupid sometimes," Jon told him, serious and affectionate. Ryan clung to him, huffing out a laugh.
"Besides," Alex piped up from across the room as he resumed strumming. "The succession of blondes you bring home would seem to indicate bisexual anyway."
Ryan dared a look at Alex, who was watching him much the way he always had. "Don't you want to come and hug me too?"
Alex grinned. "You seem to be pretty well taken care of."
"You can never have too many hugs," Jon said, sparing Ryan from having to ask.
The strumming stopped and seconds later a warm body pressed close against Ryan's back. Alex laid his cheek on Ryan's hair and said into his ear, "Jon's right. You really are stupid."
Ryan closed his eyes and relaxed.
---
There were three windows and seventeen tabs open on Brendon's laptop. Brendon himself was curled up in the corner of the sofa, computer resting on his knees which were pulled up towards his chest. It was Brendon's favourite spot these days because it meant no one else could see the screen and ask him awkward questions like, "Why are there seventeen pages of stuff about Ryan open on your computer?"
Some of it, he reasoned to himself, was stuff he needed to know. Stuff that could, technically, be about Jon too. Stuff like tour information or interviews about the album. Some of it, yes Brendon had to admit, was a little weirder. That fact that he refreshed Ryan's Twitter page more than his own, was possibly a cause for concern. As was the fact he was spending an increasing amount of time lurking on LiveJournal communities. It was possible that he'd picked that up from Pete though. Or maybe he was just an attention-whore, who wanted to know everything people were saying about him and his friends. No one ever thought of that did they? He picked up his can of Red Bull from the table behind him, shook it to check and then finished off the last of it.
The only thing he couldn't justify to himself, and therefore to anyone else, were the nine tabs of photos that he couldn't bring himself to close. They'd been sitting there in a window since the day he'd opened them, almost a week earlier. Pictures of Ryan and Jon in the studio, pictures of Ryan holding cats and pretend wives, pictures of Ryan just walking down the street looking... And that was what always stopped him in his tracks and caused him to re-evaluate his whole existence because really, when exactly did Ryan get hot?
Brendon, of course, had always known that Ryan was attractive, in the same way that he knew that Spencer and Jon were attractive, and that he himself wasn't entirely unfortunate looking. But when they'd met, Ryan had been wearing a worn My Chemical Romance t-shirt and ugly jeans that were a bit too big and his hair had covered most of his face and Brendon had never really stopped thinking about him like that. Now it seemed as though, overnight, Ryan had transformed from awkward, average dork, into... well, this.
"What are you staring at?"
Brendon jumped and automatically slammed the laptop closed. Spencer was standing in the kitchen doorway, holding a cup of coffee, now with a look of amused suspicion on his face.
"Nothing. I'm not staring at anything. What are you staring at?"
"You're very twitchy lately," Spencer said, walking towards him. "Are you okay?" He sat down on the other end of the sofa.
"I'm fine. I'm great. Yeah," Brendon answered. As long as you don't count the fact that I seem to have become obsessed with your best friend. Oh and I slept with him...
"How are you?"
"Increasingly worried about your mental health."
Brendon pulled a face at Spencer. "You're hilarious."
"I like to think so," he agreed pleasantly and sipped his coffee. "Seriously, you've been acting all weird ever since we got back from..." Spencer narrowed his eyes at Brendon. "Did you knock someone up?"
"I haven't slept with a girl since Sarah and I broke up," Brendon said honestly. Then he punched Spencer's arm. "Thanks for having some faith in me though. Douche."
"Be careful!" Spencer laughed, protecting his coffee. He kicked at Brendon's leg. "You're a douche."
Brendon sat back and opened his laptop again, making sure Spencer couldn't see the screen, even though he could feel Spencer watching him.
"So you haven't slept with any girls since Sarah," Spencer mused, sipping his coffee again. "What about guys?"
Brendon felt his face begin to flame and was glad the computer screen masked most of his face. "What about them?"
Spencer's hand fell onto one of Brendon's bare feet, which were worming their way between the sofa cushions, trying to stay warm. "Brendon Urie, is there someone special in your life you're not telling me about?" Spencer's voice was amused, teasing.
Brendon looked at the picture of Ryan currently filling his screen and wondered what had happened. "No," Brendon answered, closing all of the windows very deliberately before he turned off the laptop. "No there's not."
---
The club looked the same as any other from the outside which possibly lulled Ryan into a false sense of security. Jon had announced they were going out, Alex had thrown him his coat, and Ryan had been in the car, speeding towards the city before he even realised what was happening. It wasn't until he sat down at a table, beer in hand, that he realised there were no women there. Not one.
"What the hell?" he said, looking around to confirm his suspicions. "Is this a gay club?"
Jon smiled and clapped his hand down on Ryan's shoulder. "You said you thought you were gay. This is a good way to find out."
Ryan stared at him, open-mouthed. "No, it's really not."
Alex rolled his eyes and looked around. "Alright, who do you like?"
"I'm not doing this," Ryan huffed, taking a long drink of his beer and slouching down in his seat. "I can't believe you brought me here."
Jon's smile faded into a confused frown. "Don't you want to figure this out? I thought you were confused."
"I am confused," Ryan hissed, sitting forward again and glancing around to see if anyone had heard. This whole situation was ridiculous. "But I know I'm attracted to guys." Well one guy. But that meant gay right? Or bi, like Alex had said. Ryan sighed. He couldn't deny being confused at least.
"What about that guy?" Alex asked, nudging Ryan's arm with one hand, while he pointed across the bar with the other. Ryan grabbed hold of his wrist and yanked him closer, getting his attention.
"Stop it. Jesus, just stop."
Jon sighed. "We're just trying to help."
"There's no need to be embarrassed," Alex told him, pulling his arm free. "It's not like anyone in here knows who you are." He smirked. "And even if they did, no one's going to be super shocked."
Ryan kicked him.
"Okay, okay," Jon said, holding up his hands to prevent a fight. "Ryan, why don't you just tell us what you're looking for."
Ryan glared at him. "The exit?"
"In guys," Jon amended, ignoring the venom dripping from Ryan's tone. "What's your type?"
Ryan took another drink, determined not to answer and make everything even worse. Alex and Jon, however, fixed their attention on him and waited. And waited. And waited. The more the minutes ticked by, the more Jon's smirk grew. Ryan really wanted to punch him.
"I hate you," he spat eventually and looked away from them out to the writhing bodies on the dance-floor. He finished his beer and propped his elbows on the table. "Fine," he said and proceeded to lie through his teeth. "Tall, blonde, muscular. Blue eyes, strong-jaw..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Alex said. "I can't keep up." His eyes were back to scanning the crowd. "What about him?"
Ryan didn't even look. He was too busy staring down Jon, who was looking altogether too smug. "What?"
"You're lying," Jon said simply. "Why?"
"I'm not lying," Ryan protested and, sensing that he'd only find escape through Alex's suggestions of potential boyfriends, lovers, whatever, he turned his attention to the guy Alex was pointing at.
He was tall, blonde, everything Ryan had asked for and didn't really want. There was no denying the guy was attractive, but Ryan wasn't attracted. He looked around the club, ignoring Alex's suggestions and trying to find something, anything, that would help him figure this thing out. Too short, too tall, wrong hair, wrong nose, beautiful eyes, amazing laugh, not good enough, not right.
Not Brendon.
"I need another drink," Ryan said, standing suddenly, surprising both Jon and Alex as he practically ran to the bar.
He stood for a moment, leaning on the counter, trying to clear his head. Jon and Alex were only trying to help, he knew that, but this was so far from what he needed... He looked around the club, letting his eyes skim over the guys there, much as they had a month ago in London, waiting until he felt the same tug that he'd felt when he found Brendon in the crowd. He didn't feel anything. He didn't know whether that was good or bad. He ordered two drinks and downed one as soon as it was placed in front of him. He was going home after the second one, with or without his friends.
---
"So here's the thing," Spencer said as he walked into the living room on Friday night. Brendon hummed absently, more interested in the penguin documentary he'd found on the Discovery Channel. Clearly though, Spencer wanted his attention and when he didn't continue with what the thing actually was, Brendon had no choice but to look up at him. Spencer was fastening the buttons on his shirt sleeves and looking darkly amused.
"Aren't you a little over-dressed for a Criminal Minds marathon?" Brendon's smirk vanished almost as soon as it had appeared. Some super-cool rockstars they were.
"The thing is, you're bugging me," Spencer continued his earlier thought, ignoring Brendon. "You sit around here all day, moping. I don't know what you're moping about, but I can't deal with it anymore. So we're going out, we're getting you a few drinks and then we're getting you laid."
"Why Spencer, does Haley know how you feel about me?" Brendon laughed, right before a shirt flew across the room and landed on his head.
"That you irritate the shit out of me? Yes. Get dressed." Spencer pulled on his jacket and turned away to check himself in the mirror. Brendon watched him, amused for another minute before standing and changing his shirt.
He objected to the term moping, but only in his head because Spencer was prone to pulling out a dictionary and proving Brendon wrong. He wasn't sure when that had started. Probably around the same time Ryan and his encyclopedic knowledge of boring shit like that, decided it'd rather be off getting drunk with Alex Greenwald than, you know, spending time with him. Them. Whatever. He didn't care. And he wasn't moping.
"You are moping," Spencer insisted, tossing Brendon his wallet. "So you can tell me why or we can go get drunk."
Telling Spencer the truth about Ryan and what happened in London sounded as appealing as telling his mother about it, so he smiled brightly and switched off the TV. "Why couldn't I have gotten Jon?"
It was supposed to be a joke, but Brendon wished he could take it back the minute he'd said it. Sure, sure, nothing in his life seemed to make sense anymore. Yes, he was angry with Ryan for making him feel this way. Yes, he wished he could go back and push Ryan away and tell him no, fuck you, what the hell? No, he couldn't sleep and when he did it was fitful and unsatisfying, filled with long limbs and soft kisses and far, far too much fucking Ryan. But he could deal with that. Ryan was at least avoiding him for a reason. Brendon wasn't exactly sure when Ryan and Spencer had last spoken, but he knew it was longer than ever before. Before the tour at least. And if he had to put money on it, he'd bet against it being Spencer's fault.
Spencer looked away, missing Brendon's apologetic grimace. "Are you ready?"
Brendon stepped closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Hey," he said, brightly, "don't tell me you don't sometimes wish you'd got Jon too. I know you too well Spencer Smith, and Jon Walker is awesome."
Spencer laughed and relaxed, catching Brendon's wrist and dragging him towards the door.
---
Ryan was maybe five steps from their table when something made him stop. He willed himself to move, telling himself that even if it was who he thought it was, that was just another reason to get out of this place as fast as he could. His legs betrayed him however, and turned him around, seemingly of their own accord.
His eyes found Brendon easily, leaning against the wall at the far end of the room. He was chatting casually with a guy (a guy, Ryan couldn't help but notice, who looked nothing like him), head tilted back, smile blinding and caught in a laugh. He took a sip of something flourescent and green, and then looked down at it surprised when he reached the bottom. He laughed again and jiggled the glass. Spencer appeared at his side as if from nowhere, and took the glass from Brendon. They spoke for a moment, eyes bright and glittering and happy. Ryan bit down on a surge of jealousy that thankfully wasn't in related to the guy who was now rubbing Brendon's arm. Not wholly related to it any way.
Spencer moved away, back towards the bar, swaying through the crowd in time to the music. Ryan hesitated, debating for a moment whether it would be better to follow Spencer, but his feet carried him forward again, without his consent, in Brendon's direction.
He knew the exact moment Brendon saw him. Their eyes met, both wary and confused, but Ryan ignored it. It was still there. That desperate need for Brendon, exactly the same as the last time. Brendon shook his head slowly and Ryan knew that wasn't anything to do with him. The guy was still rubbing Brendon's arm, still talking. Brendon wasn't even paying attention.
Ryan glanced around, finding the emergency exit quickly. He caught Brendon's eye and nodded in that direction, not waiting for any form of response before circling the dancefloor and escaping though the door, out to the alley at the back. He took a couple of deep breaths and leaned heavily on the wall opposite the door. What the actual fuck was he doing?
The door opened behind him less than a minute later.
"Hey."
He turned to find Brendon watching him warily, hands already fishing a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket.
"Hey."
"You want one?" Brendon asked, offering the packet as he lit the cigarette in his mouth.
Ryan shook his head. His hands were shaking too much. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Brendon chuckled, blowing out a stream of smoke. "No shit."
"Are you... How are you?" Ryan wasn't sure exactly what he'd thought would happen when he started this, but he was sure it hadn't been exchanging awkward pleasantries. Luckily Brendon seemed to have the same idea.
"You didn't drag me out here to ask how I was, Ryan." He took another long drag on the cigarette and stepped closer, crowding Ryan against the wall.
"No," Ryan murmured. "I didn't."
Brendon flicked the cigarette butt away, his hands finding Ryan's hips instead. "So what did you want?"
Ryan's hands slid up into Brendon's hair of their own volition and pulled him close. Brendon rolled his hips against Ryan's, pushing him back into the wall. Ryan's eyes fell closed and his mouth opened on a groan. Brendon took the advantage and kissed him hard.
"What the fuck?"
"Oh my God."
Ryan froze, seconds or maybe hours after they'd started, head tilted back against the wall, back arched towards Brendon, one leg caught high up around Brendon's thigh. He felt Brendon stiffen at the same time, and their eyes met, just as nervous and confused as before. Ryan pushed at Brendon's shoulders until he stepped away, letting Ryan find his feet again.
In the doorway to the club, Spencer and Jon were staring at them, their faces each displaying exactly the same look of shock. Ryan wanted to laugh. Instead he chanced a look at Brendon, who was backing away slowly, down the alley, while studiously watching his shoes.
"Ryan?"
That was Spencer, and Ryan just couldn't stand to do this there, at that moment, when Brendon was so close, when he could still taste him on his lips. Without another word, he bolted in the opposite direction.
Part Two