[fanfiction] reciprocal of love
Fandom/Pairings: Bandom; Panic GSF
Rating: R.
Pre-Notes: City!verse, although a different section. The only thing you need to know is Panic! Is part of a circus, Brendon is ringmaster, Jon tames tigers/lions, Spencer bitchfaces the musicians into submission and Ryan Ross is a magician, sort of. Well, you'll see.
Disclaimer: Magic isn't real, kids.
Summary: You can only give as much love as you can take back.
----
reciprocal of love
Brendon comes up behind Ryan, wrapping his arms around Ryan's waist and pressing a kiss to the underside of Ryan's jaw, where there's a smudge of brown paint left over from yesterday's show. There's always paint hidden on Ryan's body if a person feels like looking for it, and Brendon always feels like looking for it.
“So,” Brendon says, voice low in Ryan's ear, “what are you doing tonight?”
“Sleeping,” Ryan monotones.
“Great,” Brendon grins, “meet me at the lion cages after the show.”
Thankfully, there's no one around to see Brendon's hand skating over the front of Ryan's pants. Except Jon, who just smiles at the both of them as he walks by. Brendon bounds after Jon, chattering with him and leaving Ryan standing in the mess of backstage tents, aroused and slightly confused. It was pretty much a staple of dealing with Brendon, though, so Ryan just went to set up his paints.
----
“Hey,” Jon says as he walks over to Spencer.
Spencer glares at him, because he is not in his happy place. One of the band members has some sort of death flu and this is not a good time to be trying to talk to him, because he's trying to figure out how to work the music without a piano. He used to be able to have Brendon do it, but then Brendon became the Ringmaster and now he's working the entire show so ugh. Just ugh. He's going to have to ask Amanda to do it and Amanda hates the piano. Today is not a good day and-
And Jon is wrapping Spencer up in a hug so that all the tension melts out of Spencer because Jon is an amazing, magical person like that. Spencer sighs and Jon loosens his hold a little.
“Hey,” Jon says again.
“Hey,” Spencer replies.
Jon smiles, “So, what are you doing tonight?”
“Probably sleeping, why?”
“No reason. Meet me by the lion cages after the show?”
Spencer raises an eyebrow, “Sure. Mind telling me why?”
“You'll see.”
Jon presses a quick kiss to Spencer's lips and whispers a goodbye into his ear before disappearing to go tend to the animals. Spencer stands there for a moment before putting his determined face on and going to find Amanda. She was going to have to play the piano, or the whole show was just going to go down the drain. The music was important to a proper Big-Top experience, okay?
----
Their show goes beautifully. Ryan's act in particular, vines being painted up his body in elaborate spirals that ended in flowers (that night at least) near his eyes. In theory, it's a fucking boring act. All Ryan does is paint himself in vines and branches and flowers-but there's magic in it, magic in the way the vines leap from the canvas onto Ryan, wrapping around him, across him, along him. It's Brendon's favorite part of the show, watching the brush drag along the expanse of Ryan's chest. Sometimes when Ryan is feeling bold, like that night, he'll catch Brendon's eye and smile the very barest hint of a smile. It always takes Brendon's breath away, which is why he changes as quickly as possible after the show and practically trips over himself to get to the lion cages.
Ryan is already there, waiting, and Brendon wraps his arms around Ryan's waist before pulling him forward for a kiss. Ryan melts into Brendon and the world drops away-until Spencer clears his throat from somewhere to Brendon's left and the reluctantly pull apart.
“Why are we here?” Spencer sighs, “And where is Jon?”
“Right here,” Jon says from somewhere behind the lion cage, “Spencer.”
There's always awkward fumbling at first, trying to figure out who goes where, but eventually they're all standing in a little circle behind the lion cages. Brendon is draped over Ryan, and he catches Jon's eyes before grinning.
“Jon and I got you two a present.”
“It had better not involve Jell-o,” Spencer says automatically.
“One time,” Brendon pouts, “but anyway the lion cage just got cleaned, so it's empty and no one will be around for a few hours.”
“The lion cage,” Spencer raises an eyebrow, “do you know how unclean they are?”
Brendon rolls his eyes, “We put down blankets. It's cool, Spencer.”
Spencer eyes Brendon warily for a few more seconds before relenting. He always relents, because Brendon's tongue is clever and he's more than happy to use it. Especially, Spencer knows, on the days when Ryan has a paintbrush hidden just inside his sleeve and his fingers curled around a tiny bottle of ink.
----
Ryan Ross is a kind of magician-if by magician, one means artist-and sometimes . . . Sometimes Ryan writes poems on the smooth skin of Brendon's back. Sometimes, he pens them on Spencer's. Sometimes, Jon's. Sometimes, on days when they're in the lion cage and it's dark-everything lit only by a flicking florescent light-when Brendon's stretched out on blankets and Ryan runs the paintbrush across the skin, letting the words flow and shift and form poetry that Ryan whispers to Brendon, who whimpers around Spencer's cock at the ink all over ink, staining everything a brilliant blue. Ultramarine, to be exact.
Sometimes, like tonight, Ryan links their fingers together as they fuck and wills the words to flow from Brendon to him. It's a ridiculous misuse of his talent, but these people-these three people who shouldn't have such an effect on him-make him do things like that. Jon is at his ear when the blue starts spiraling from Brendon's skin to his, whispering the things the ink spells out. It's always the same message. The message he paints are different but all the same.
I love you I love you I love you I love you love me love love me love love love.
It's different from the performance he does every night, because the words change. The colors change. The people change. No, that's not true-the people don't change at all. The people are the only thing that stays the same, but Ryan is always discovering new things about them. Always finding new things to love, tiny little details that he smile to himself about.
“I love the way you'll smile just for me, sometimes, during your performance,” Jon says into his ear, “I love the way you always have paint somewhere, I love the way you kiss . . .”
When the words flow onto him, they're not his words. They're his words, remixed into Brendon's words and covering him in a blanket of love. Jon's voice wraps around him too, and Ryan feels his safest here, like this. Unlike Brendon, unlike Jon, Ryan doesn't like performing for the audience. He's good at it, but good isn't the point. So many eyes staring at him, wanting a piece of him . . . There isn't any of that here. Just Spencer, a warm presence who strokes Brendon's hair, whispering Ryan's words. Just Jon, a soothing voice with hands that wander across ultramarine ink, whispering Brendon's words. Just Brendon, crying out and without all of the suave sensibility he adopts in the ring.
Just them.
----
“Shhh,” Jon laces fingers with Ryan and pulls him close, “give them to me if they're too much. Don't suffer.”
Ryan sobs, probably too far gone to be aware of the way the ink migrates off him and onto Jon as Jon slowly fucks him. It's nice and easy, Jon knows that Ryan is at his most vulnerable like this-most vulnerable when he's just accepted warmth and love from one of them. Spencer tried to explain why, once, but Jon had cut him off with a kiss because he didn't need to know why. He just needed to know how to take care of Ryan afterward. Spencer had smiled and told him.
Told him that to make Ryan better, you had to give him his defenses back. So that's what Jon does. He lets himself be Ryan's canvas and sees Spencer and Brendon taking turns giving Ryan sweet, chaste kisses. Together, in a way they've perfected over the last year, they bring Ryan back to himself. He smiles at Jon when he finally comes back to, resting a hand on the brilliant blue ink that's now covering Jon.
“Thank you,” Ryan says hoarsely.
Jon smiles back, “Any time, Ryan. Any time.”
Brendon presses a kiss to the side of Ryan's neck, where there's a smudge of blue. His lips are blue when he pulls away, and Spencer laughs before pressing his lips to Brendon's. They all need a shower badly-fortunately, the other circus folk know better than to ask why the four of them are all covered in smears of the same brilliant, brilliant blue.
This entry originally posted here. Original entry currently has
comments. :D
Rating: R.
Pre-Notes: City!verse, although a different section. The only thing you need to know is Panic! Is part of a circus, Brendon is ringmaster, Jon tames tigers/lions, Spencer bitchfaces the musicians into submission and Ryan Ross is a magician, sort of. Well, you'll see.
Disclaimer: Magic isn't real, kids.
Summary: You can only give as much love as you can take back.
----
reciprocal of love
Brendon comes up behind Ryan, wrapping his arms around Ryan's waist and pressing a kiss to the underside of Ryan's jaw, where there's a smudge of brown paint left over from yesterday's show. There's always paint hidden on Ryan's body if a person feels like looking for it, and Brendon always feels like looking for it.
“So,” Brendon says, voice low in Ryan's ear, “what are you doing tonight?”
“Sleeping,” Ryan monotones.
“Great,” Brendon grins, “meet me at the lion cages after the show.”
Thankfully, there's no one around to see Brendon's hand skating over the front of Ryan's pants. Except Jon, who just smiles at the both of them as he walks by. Brendon bounds after Jon, chattering with him and leaving Ryan standing in the mess of backstage tents, aroused and slightly confused. It was pretty much a staple of dealing with Brendon, though, so Ryan just went to set up his paints.
----
“Hey,” Jon says as he walks over to Spencer.
Spencer glares at him, because he is not in his happy place. One of the band members has some sort of death flu and this is not a good time to be trying to talk to him, because he's trying to figure out how to work the music without a piano. He used to be able to have Brendon do it, but then Brendon became the Ringmaster and now he's working the entire show so ugh. Just ugh. He's going to have to ask Amanda to do it and Amanda hates the piano. Today is not a good day and-
And Jon is wrapping Spencer up in a hug so that all the tension melts out of Spencer because Jon is an amazing, magical person like that. Spencer sighs and Jon loosens his hold a little.
“Hey,” Jon says again.
“Hey,” Spencer replies.
Jon smiles, “So, what are you doing tonight?”
“Probably sleeping, why?”
“No reason. Meet me by the lion cages after the show?”
Spencer raises an eyebrow, “Sure. Mind telling me why?”
“You'll see.”
Jon presses a quick kiss to Spencer's lips and whispers a goodbye into his ear before disappearing to go tend to the animals. Spencer stands there for a moment before putting his determined face on and going to find Amanda. She was going to have to play the piano, or the whole show was just going to go down the drain. The music was important to a proper Big-Top experience, okay?
----
Their show goes beautifully. Ryan's act in particular, vines being painted up his body in elaborate spirals that ended in flowers (that night at least) near his eyes. In theory, it's a fucking boring act. All Ryan does is paint himself in vines and branches and flowers-but there's magic in it, magic in the way the vines leap from the canvas onto Ryan, wrapping around him, across him, along him. It's Brendon's favorite part of the show, watching the brush drag along the expanse of Ryan's chest. Sometimes when Ryan is feeling bold, like that night, he'll catch Brendon's eye and smile the very barest hint of a smile. It always takes Brendon's breath away, which is why he changes as quickly as possible after the show and practically trips over himself to get to the lion cages.
Ryan is already there, waiting, and Brendon wraps his arms around Ryan's waist before pulling him forward for a kiss. Ryan melts into Brendon and the world drops away-until Spencer clears his throat from somewhere to Brendon's left and the reluctantly pull apart.
“Why are we here?” Spencer sighs, “And where is Jon?”
“Right here,” Jon says from somewhere behind the lion cage, “Spencer.”
There's always awkward fumbling at first, trying to figure out who goes where, but eventually they're all standing in a little circle behind the lion cages. Brendon is draped over Ryan, and he catches Jon's eyes before grinning.
“Jon and I got you two a present.”
“It had better not involve Jell-o,” Spencer says automatically.
“One time,” Brendon pouts, “but anyway the lion cage just got cleaned, so it's empty and no one will be around for a few hours.”
“The lion cage,” Spencer raises an eyebrow, “do you know how unclean they are?”
Brendon rolls his eyes, “We put down blankets. It's cool, Spencer.”
Spencer eyes Brendon warily for a few more seconds before relenting. He always relents, because Brendon's tongue is clever and he's more than happy to use it. Especially, Spencer knows, on the days when Ryan has a paintbrush hidden just inside his sleeve and his fingers curled around a tiny bottle of ink.
----
Ryan Ross is a kind of magician-if by magician, one means artist-and sometimes . . . Sometimes Ryan writes poems on the smooth skin of Brendon's back. Sometimes, he pens them on Spencer's. Sometimes, Jon's. Sometimes, on days when they're in the lion cage and it's dark-everything lit only by a flicking florescent light-when Brendon's stretched out on blankets and Ryan runs the paintbrush across the skin, letting the words flow and shift and form poetry that Ryan whispers to Brendon, who whimpers around Spencer's cock at the ink all over ink, staining everything a brilliant blue. Ultramarine, to be exact.
Sometimes, like tonight, Ryan links their fingers together as they fuck and wills the words to flow from Brendon to him. It's a ridiculous misuse of his talent, but these people-these three people who shouldn't have such an effect on him-make him do things like that. Jon is at his ear when the blue starts spiraling from Brendon's skin to his, whispering the things the ink spells out. It's always the same message. The message he paints are different but all the same.
I love you I love you I love you I love you love me love love me love love love.
It's different from the performance he does every night, because the words change. The colors change. The people change. No, that's not true-the people don't change at all. The people are the only thing that stays the same, but Ryan is always discovering new things about them. Always finding new things to love, tiny little details that he smile to himself about.
“I love the way you'll smile just for me, sometimes, during your performance,” Jon says into his ear, “I love the way you always have paint somewhere, I love the way you kiss . . .”
When the words flow onto him, they're not his words. They're his words, remixed into Brendon's words and covering him in a blanket of love. Jon's voice wraps around him too, and Ryan feels his safest here, like this. Unlike Brendon, unlike Jon, Ryan doesn't like performing for the audience. He's good at it, but good isn't the point. So many eyes staring at him, wanting a piece of him . . . There isn't any of that here. Just Spencer, a warm presence who strokes Brendon's hair, whispering Ryan's words. Just Jon, a soothing voice with hands that wander across ultramarine ink, whispering Brendon's words. Just Brendon, crying out and without all of the suave sensibility he adopts in the ring.
Just them.
----
“Shhh,” Jon laces fingers with Ryan and pulls him close, “give them to me if they're too much. Don't suffer.”
Ryan sobs, probably too far gone to be aware of the way the ink migrates off him and onto Jon as Jon slowly fucks him. It's nice and easy, Jon knows that Ryan is at his most vulnerable like this-most vulnerable when he's just accepted warmth and love from one of them. Spencer tried to explain why, once, but Jon had cut him off with a kiss because he didn't need to know why. He just needed to know how to take care of Ryan afterward. Spencer had smiled and told him.
Told him that to make Ryan better, you had to give him his defenses back. So that's what Jon does. He lets himself be Ryan's canvas and sees Spencer and Brendon taking turns giving Ryan sweet, chaste kisses. Together, in a way they've perfected over the last year, they bring Ryan back to himself. He smiles at Jon when he finally comes back to, resting a hand on the brilliant blue ink that's now covering Jon.
“Thank you,” Ryan says hoarsely.
Jon smiles back, “Any time, Ryan. Any time.”
Brendon presses a kiss to the side of Ryan's neck, where there's a smudge of blue. His lips are blue when he pulls away, and Spencer laughs before pressing his lips to Brendon's. They all need a shower badly-fortunately, the other circus folk know better than to ask why the four of them are all covered in smears of the same brilliant, brilliant blue.
This entry originally posted here. Original entry currently has
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