Fic - P!ATD - Waking Dream
Title: Waking Dream
Author:
lady_deathangel
Disclaimer: This didn't happen. I'm not writing this for profit or claiming that it's true.
Rating: G
Pairings: gen
Warnings: fluff
A/N: I love this one! Written in response to a
we_are_citiesprompt. I had a smile on my face the whole time I wrote this so I hope this can put one on yours. :D
They were in Spencer’s room and they were deathly silent. Brendon was on the floor, cross-legged and tapping the tips of his fingers against his bent knee. Ryan was sitting on the bed next to Spencer, both of them still and watching the tap-tap-tap of Brendon’s fingers. It was so late it was edging on early and they’d been awake so long they’d stopped counting the hours but they weren’t tired.
In the quiet, Ryan twitched and sucked in a breath.
“Oh my God,” he whispered and Brendon looked up. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah,” Spencer said, his lips curving up just the slightest bit.
Brendon swallowed hard and curled his hands around his knees, rocking forward slightly.
“You guys,” he said. “You guys. Pete Wentz. A record deal. A fucking record deal.”
“Oh my fucking God,” Ryan said, falling back on the bed, arms spread wide. “Yeah. Yes. Can you-“ he cut himself off because he was smiling too wide for his mouth to form words.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” Brendon said breathlessly.
Ryan laughed and said, “You can’t, dude. You’d be throwing up the dinner Pete Wentz bought for you.”
“Oh my God,” Brendon muttered and he did look slightly green but his eyes were insanely bright and his body was practically vibrating.
Ryan was still laughing and Spencer looked down to see his best friend’s head tilted up, neck arched and grin wider than Spencer had ever seen it. Ryan’s eyes snapped open and he looked up at Spencer through his bangs and Spencer couldn’t help laughing with him.
“We sucked so bad,” Spencer said through his chuckles.
“Dude,” Brendon said. “Dude, we did. So bad. I thought he was going to laugh at us.”
“He fed us shitty tacos and gave us a record deal instead,” Spencer said. “Holy shit.”
Ryan laughed even harder, rolling into Spencer’s body and wrapping his arms around Spencer’s waist.
“He’s the most amazing guy ever,” Brendon said, and he was breathless again. He shot to his feet. “I’d totally blow him. Like, seriously.”
Spencer felt Ryan’s snort against his back and then Ryan was sitting up, hair flying in a hundred different directions. “Who wouldn’t?”
“Me,” Spencer said.
“Whatever, you totally would,” Brendon told him. “It’s Pete Wentz. A record deal. He fed you tacos.”
Ryan giggled, actually fucking giggled, and leaned his head on Spencer’s shoulder. They both watched as Brendon paced around the room restlessly, waving his arms a bit and wiggling his hips.
“Are you doing a striptease or what?” Spencer asked, snickering and pressing his cheek to the top of Ryan’s head.
Brendon twisted at the waist and bounced on the balls of his feet. “I just . . . I’m waiting to wake the fuck up,” Brendon said. “We have a record deal. We were just signed to a label. Oh my God.”
And then he was reaching out, wrapping a hand around Ryan’s wrist, pulling him up despite a small noise of questioning protest. Brendon clasped one of Ryan’s hands in his, curved the other around his waist and started to dance them around the room, humming some frenetic tune that Ryan couldn’t quite figure out.
“What are you humming?” Ryan asked.
“Queen, duh,” Brendon said, resuming his humming while Ryan’s head fell back on a laugh.
“C’mere Spence,” Brendon said after he and Ryan had made two tours of the room. “Dance with us.”
They both looked over at Spencer who rolled his eyes but smiled, big and bright, and joined them. He stepped behind Ryan, joined their hands together and placed the other hand over Brendon’s on Ryan’s waist. They slowed down, shuffling backandforth steps taking the place of quick ones; like lovers on prom night they moved, soft and intimate.
“Fuck,” Ryan muttered and his voice held every single emotion that was running through the three of them like a current.
Inside each of them they were kicking and screaming and dancing and jumping and running for miles on no sleep and swimming through oceans on one breath. They trembled together, pressing closer, closing gaps. Ryan’s cheek fell to Brendon’s shoulder, Brendon’s forehead to Spencer’s, the corners of mouths still pulled upward, breathing quick, heartbeats fast and erratic.
“Don’t wake me up,” Ryan said softly. “If this is a dream, don’t ever wake me up.”
Brendon and Spencer pinched him sharply on his hip and he yelped.
“We’re not dreaming,” Brendon said.
“Yeah,” Ryan said, pulling away. “Yeah we are. This is my dream. This is our dream.”
Spencer’s bedroom door opened and light spilled across the dim floor. Brent paused in the doorway, damp from his shower, and looked at them all with raised eyebrows.
“We’ve only been rock stars for, like, ten minutes. You can’t all be gay already.”
Brendon laughed and shifted around, withdrawing a hand from Ryan’s waist and holding his arm out wide.
“Jesus, just get your ass over here Brent. We’re having a moment.”
He closed the door and in seconds he was in the circle of their arms, sweet-smelling and calm and solid.
“So,” Brent said.
“Yep,” Ryan said.
“Pete Wentz,” Brendon said.
“A fucking album,” Spencer said.
“Oh my God,” they whispered, words echoing just this side of a new life.
Author:
lady_deathangel
Disclaimer: This didn't happen. I'm not writing this for profit or claiming that it's true.
Rating: G
Pairings: gen
Warnings: fluff
A/N: I love this one! Written in response to a
we_are_citiesprompt. I had a smile on my face the whole time I wrote this so I hope this can put one on yours. :D
They were in Spencer’s room and they were deathly silent. Brendon was on the floor, cross-legged and tapping the tips of his fingers against his bent knee. Ryan was sitting on the bed next to Spencer, both of them still and watching the tap-tap-tap of Brendon’s fingers. It was so late it was edging on early and they’d been awake so long they’d stopped counting the hours but they weren’t tired.
In the quiet, Ryan twitched and sucked in a breath.
“Oh my God,” he whispered and Brendon looked up. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah,” Spencer said, his lips curving up just the slightest bit.
Brendon swallowed hard and curled his hands around his knees, rocking forward slightly.
“You guys,” he said. “You guys. Pete Wentz. A record deal. A fucking record deal.”
“Oh my fucking God,” Ryan said, falling back on the bed, arms spread wide. “Yeah. Yes. Can you-“ he cut himself off because he was smiling too wide for his mouth to form words.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” Brendon said breathlessly.
Ryan laughed and said, “You can’t, dude. You’d be throwing up the dinner Pete Wentz bought for you.”
“Oh my God,” Brendon muttered and he did look slightly green but his eyes were insanely bright and his body was practically vibrating.
Ryan was still laughing and Spencer looked down to see his best friend’s head tilted up, neck arched and grin wider than Spencer had ever seen it. Ryan’s eyes snapped open and he looked up at Spencer through his bangs and Spencer couldn’t help laughing with him.
“We sucked so bad,” Spencer said through his chuckles.
“Dude,” Brendon said. “Dude, we did. So bad. I thought he was going to laugh at us.”
“He fed us shitty tacos and gave us a record deal instead,” Spencer said. “Holy shit.”
Ryan laughed even harder, rolling into Spencer’s body and wrapping his arms around Spencer’s waist.
“He’s the most amazing guy ever,” Brendon said, and he was breathless again. He shot to his feet. “I’d totally blow him. Like, seriously.”
Spencer felt Ryan’s snort against his back and then Ryan was sitting up, hair flying in a hundred different directions. “Who wouldn’t?”
“Me,” Spencer said.
“Whatever, you totally would,” Brendon told him. “It’s Pete Wentz. A record deal. He fed you tacos.”
Ryan giggled, actually fucking giggled, and leaned his head on Spencer’s shoulder. They both watched as Brendon paced around the room restlessly, waving his arms a bit and wiggling his hips.
“Are you doing a striptease or what?” Spencer asked, snickering and pressing his cheek to the top of Ryan’s head.
Brendon twisted at the waist and bounced on the balls of his feet. “I just . . . I’m waiting to wake the fuck up,” Brendon said. “We have a record deal. We were just signed to a label. Oh my God.”
And then he was reaching out, wrapping a hand around Ryan’s wrist, pulling him up despite a small noise of questioning protest. Brendon clasped one of Ryan’s hands in his, curved the other around his waist and started to dance them around the room, humming some frenetic tune that Ryan couldn’t quite figure out.
“What are you humming?” Ryan asked.
“Queen, duh,” Brendon said, resuming his humming while Ryan’s head fell back on a laugh.
“C’mere Spence,” Brendon said after he and Ryan had made two tours of the room. “Dance with us.”
They both looked over at Spencer who rolled his eyes but smiled, big and bright, and joined them. He stepped behind Ryan, joined their hands together and placed the other hand over Brendon’s on Ryan’s waist. They slowed down, shuffling backandforth steps taking the place of quick ones; like lovers on prom night they moved, soft and intimate.
“Fuck,” Ryan muttered and his voice held every single emotion that was running through the three of them like a current.
Inside each of them they were kicking and screaming and dancing and jumping and running for miles on no sleep and swimming through oceans on one breath. They trembled together, pressing closer, closing gaps. Ryan’s cheek fell to Brendon’s shoulder, Brendon’s forehead to Spencer’s, the corners of mouths still pulled upward, breathing quick, heartbeats fast and erratic.
“Don’t wake me up,” Ryan said softly. “If this is a dream, don’t ever wake me up.”
Brendon and Spencer pinched him sharply on his hip and he yelped.
“We’re not dreaming,” Brendon said.
“Yeah,” Ryan said, pulling away. “Yeah we are. This is my dream. This is our dream.”
Spencer’s bedroom door opened and light spilled across the dim floor. Brent paused in the doorway, damp from his shower, and looked at them all with raised eyebrows.
“We’ve only been rock stars for, like, ten minutes. You can’t all be gay already.”
Brendon laughed and shifted around, withdrawing a hand from Ryan’s waist and holding his arm out wide.
“Jesus, just get your ass over here Brent. We’re having a moment.”
He closed the door and in seconds he was in the circle of their arms, sweet-smelling and calm and solid.
“So,” Brent said.
“Yep,” Ryan said.
“Pete Wentz,” Brendon said.
“A fucking album,” Spencer said.
“Oh my God,” they whispered, words echoing just this side of a new life.