Fic: It was only a kiss (How did it end up like this?) - [Brandon Flowers/Ryan Ross]
Title: ‘It was only a kiss (How did it end up like this?)’
Author: jen_jm
Pairing: Brandon Flowers/Ryan Ross
Rating: PG-13
Word count: about 500
Warnings: angst, flashfic
Disclaimer: title from The Killers' ‘Mr. Brightside’. Don’t own, don’t sue. It’s all fiction.
Summary: “The room around him is dark, empty, but the bed is messy and the air is thick with the scent of sex, of them.”
Crossposted
~~
Brandon opens his eyes and it takes him a whole minute to realize what happened, to rememberhow it happened. The room around him is dark, empty, but the bed is messy and the air is thick with the scent of sex, of them. There’s a soft, defined line of light coming from under the door that tells him that he’s not alone, not yet.
He gets up and walks out of his bedroom, trying to make less noise he can. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, but he doesn’t even flinch as he walks barefoot on the cold floor. There’s a muffled voice coming from somewhere near, the kitchen maybe; it sounds too soft, hoarse, even broken maybe, but he doesn’t stop to think about it as he keeps walking.
The moment he stops and leans against the kitchen’s doorframe, the voice stops and the boy standing there looks at him in the eye, caught off guard. He lowers the phone and flips it closed, but still doesn’t say a word as he tries to walk past Brandon and out of the room.
When he finds himself stopped by an outstretched arm, he looks away and says, “he’s coming to get me.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Brandon whispers, than uses that arm to grip the boy’s hip and push him against the wall. “Just-- not all of it, not this way.”
“Right,” the other boy spats, bitter and visibly upset.
When he gets no answer, he struggles out of the grip and retrieves his clothes, while Brandon stands in the corridor and lights a cigarette -something he hasn’t done in ages, like many of the things he did tonight-, waiting for him to come back. When he does, they stand there for several seconds, just facing each other without making eye-contact.
“It’d take you just a word,” the boy whispers without looking at him, just before his phone rings.
“I know,” Brandon admits, then silence falls on the again for a few seconds.
The other boy just shakes his head, bringing his hand to the doorknob. He stops when he feels a hand on his hip again, forcing him to turn.
“Ryan.” It’s a whisper on his lips and then Brandon’s mouth is closing on his once again, preventing any kind of reply, any kind of protest. Ryan’s hand closes on Brandon’s forearm and pushes until he withdraws, eyes closed.
“It’s just a kiss,” Brandon says against his jaw, feeling the hint of a stubble graze his own skin.
“It’s not enough,” Ryan mutters, then he’s getting free again and turns away.
Brandon looks at him and nods, but doesn’t add anything. He can hear a car waiting outside and the ash from his cigarette falls on the floor as the door clicks shut after Ryan once again.
~~end
A/N:seriously, blame this on Mr. Brightside. And on Brandon Flowers of course. I should not like him this much. But I do.
It’s dedicated to hazel_gwendolen because it’s only thanks to her if I went to seeThe Killers in concert. Thanks, tata, mucho amor. <3
JM
Author: jen_jm
Pairing: Brandon Flowers/Ryan Ross
Rating: PG-13
Word count: about 500
Warnings: angst, flashfic
Disclaimer: title from The Killers' ‘Mr. Brightside’. Don’t own, don’t sue. It’s all fiction.
Summary: “The room around him is dark, empty, but the bed is messy and the air is thick with the scent of sex, of them.”
Crossposted
~~
Brandon opens his eyes and it takes him a whole minute to realize what happened, to rememberhow it happened. The room around him is dark, empty, but the bed is messy and the air is thick with the scent of sex, of them. There’s a soft, defined line of light coming from under the door that tells him that he’s not alone, not yet.
He gets up and walks out of his bedroom, trying to make less noise he can. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, but he doesn’t even flinch as he walks barefoot on the cold floor. There’s a muffled voice coming from somewhere near, the kitchen maybe; it sounds too soft, hoarse, even broken maybe, but he doesn’t stop to think about it as he keeps walking.
The moment he stops and leans against the kitchen’s doorframe, the voice stops and the boy standing there looks at him in the eye, caught off guard. He lowers the phone and flips it closed, but still doesn’t say a word as he tries to walk past Brandon and out of the room.
When he finds himself stopped by an outstretched arm, he looks away and says, “he’s coming to get me.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Brandon whispers, than uses that arm to grip the boy’s hip and push him against the wall. “Just-- not all of it, not this way.”
“Right,” the other boy spats, bitter and visibly upset.
When he gets no answer, he struggles out of the grip and retrieves his clothes, while Brandon stands in the corridor and lights a cigarette -something he hasn’t done in ages, like many of the things he did tonight-, waiting for him to come back. When he does, they stand there for several seconds, just facing each other without making eye-contact.
“It’d take you just a word,” the boy whispers without looking at him, just before his phone rings.
“I know,” Brandon admits, then silence falls on the again for a few seconds.
The other boy just shakes his head, bringing his hand to the doorknob. He stops when he feels a hand on his hip again, forcing him to turn.
“Ryan.” It’s a whisper on his lips and then Brandon’s mouth is closing on his once again, preventing any kind of reply, any kind of protest. Ryan’s hand closes on Brandon’s forearm and pushes until he withdraws, eyes closed.
“It’s just a kiss,” Brandon says against his jaw, feeling the hint of a stubble graze his own skin.
“It’s not enough,” Ryan mutters, then he’s getting free again and turns away.
Brandon looks at him and nods, but doesn’t add anything. He can hear a car waiting outside and the ash from his cigarette falls on the floor as the door clicks shut after Ryan once again.
~~end
A/N:seriously, blame this on Mr. Brightside. And on Brandon Flowers of course. I should not like him this much. But I do.
It’s dedicated to hazel_gwendolen because it’s only thanks to her if I went to seeThe Killers in concert. Thanks, tata, mucho amor. <3
JM