(no subject)
Title: Fixed-Odds Betting
Author: Elissa
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Bob/Spencer, Frank/Brendon
Summary: Brendon shrugs. "What was the bet, anyway?" "Whether or not you losers would defend Smith's honor," Frank says. Brendon scoffs. "Dude, to the death."
Disclaimer: Not real. Not even a little bit.
Author's Notes: Silly little thing for shutyourface. Un-betaed, so feel free to point out mistakes if you spot any.
"Your drummer's a fucking asshole," Frank says, all matter of fact.
Brendon's eyes widen, then narrow, and Frank can see his jaw clench from three feet away. He doesn't say anything, but Frank can tell he wants to, can tell he's searching for words or restraint, something.
Frank almost wants to laugh, because this kid is so not threatening, but his eyes are intense and he's holding himself utterly still, like maybe he might be throwing punches if he thought he could get away with it. Also, Frank's on the verge of losing a bet, and that shit's never funny.
Finally Brendon says, "That's not how this is going to work."
Frank lifts an eyebrow, crosses his arms. "No?"
"I don't talk shit about your drummer, you don't get to talk shit about mine."
Frank huffs out a breath and kicks at the ground. "Fucking bullshit. Loyal fucking motherfuckers."
"Excuse me?" Brendon takes a step forward, but Frank shakes his head.
"Chill, Urie. You just cost me fifty bucks, is all."
When Spencer comes around the corner laughing, Bob in tow, Brendon's eyebrows go up.
"Pay up, Frankie."
Frank digs a crumpled fifty out of his pocket and relinquishes the bill to Spencer. Bob puts a consoling hand on his shoulder and Frank shrugs it off.
"Fuck off, Bryar. You're sleeping with the enemy."
Brendon snickers under his breath. "Yeah, literally."
When Spencer smiles at Brendon, Brendon grins back, big and bright. "I think you should split that with me, since I obviously helped you win it."
Bob says, "He'd have to split it four ways."
Frank rolls his eyes. "Ross and Walker helped, too."
"Give me twelve-fifty, bitch! Pay me my dues." Brendon makes grabby hands, but Spencer shoves the bill into his own pocket and swats his hands away.
Brendon shrugs. "What was the bet, anyway?"
"Whether or not you losers would defend Smith's honor," Frank says.
Brendon scoffs. "Dude, to the death."
Spencer quirks his lips at Bob. "It's not like your guys wouldn't do the same."
"They wouldn't." Bob curls a hand around the back of Spencer's neck and throws Frank a sideways look.
Frank grins. "Well, I would. Maybe Ray. It's the Way's you've got to worry about. They're coldhearted."
"Yeah, I'm so sure dude." Spencer huffs out a laugh and shares a look with Brendon, like neither of them can fathom a world in which gauntlets aren't thrown anytime anyone speaks ill of a band mate. They probably can't.
Frank cocks his head. "Do I smell another bet?"
Bob shakes his head. "That's a sucker's bet, Frankie."
"Maybe. But is it a bet your boyfriend's gonna take?"
Spencer sticks out a hand. "Okay, it's a deal. We send Brendon in. Bet's on the fifty."
Frank clasps his hand around Spencer's. "Gee and Mikey first. If one of them takes the bait, jumps to Bob's defense, we'll use Ray as a tie breaker."
Spencer nods and they both shake on it.
On the way to the bus, Brendon sidles up beside Frank, bumps their hips together. "I'm glad you're not actually a trash-talking douchenozzle. I would have been sad about having to hate you."
Frank bumps back. "Win this bet for me, Urie, and I'll show you just how un-hateable I am."
"I'm pretty sure that's not a word." Bob sticks out a foot and Frank trips over it.
Frank glares. "I'm pretty sure tripping people makes you a tool."
Brendon reaches out an arm to steady Frank, then turns around and walks backwards, raises an eyebrow at Spencer. "Frank promised me blowjobs if I win this bet for him, it's gonna be pretty hard to top that, Spence."
Frank trips again, this time without the aid of Bob's foot. "What the fuck, Urie?"
Brendon steadies him again and Bob almost sends them both tumbling when he reaches out to cuff Brendon on the back of the head. "Keep your dick to yourself, would you?"
Brendon pouts exaggeratedly and Spencer shrugs. "Bob's mom never taught him how to share."
Frank's got a crack about Bob's mom right on the tip of his tongue, but Brendon is clearly still waiting for Spencer's offer, so he holds back.
Spencer says, "Twelve-fifty."
Brendon grins and worms his way in between Spencer and Bob, slings his arms over their shoulders and hauls himself up so that his toes are dragging the ground. "Deal!"
Frank scoffs. "My mouth is worth more than twelve-fifty."
"That's what she said," Brendon crows, and Bob hooks an arm under Brendon's knees, pulls up until Brendon tucks and flips over backwards, landing on his feet behind them.
It takes him a second to get his footing, but once he does, he jogs to catch up with Frank. "Plus, dude, I heard you gave some tech a hoover for ten bucks once."
Frank wrinkles his nose. "Oh, yeah? Well you should hear the shit people say about you."
---
Brendon tries his hardest to offend the Way's. He says some pretty vile shit, actually. Frank's kind of impressed. In the end, though, Gerard and Mikey aren't phased.
Brendon's got frown lines creasing his forehead when Frank makes him give up the bet thirty minutes in. He's still looking cranky when they meet Bob and Spencer outside.
"It's like they didn't even know I was there. It went in one ear and out the other."
Bob nods knowingly. "They have selective hearing."
Frank holds his hand out and wiggles his fingers until Spencer hands over the fifty. "Plus," he says, folding the bill and sticking it in his back pocket. "I hid the coffee from Gee this morning and Mike was on his cell phone."
"Dude, then he was operating under a handicap. I call unfair advantage."
Frank smirks. "Suck it up, Smith."
Bob hooks a finger in the waist of Spencer's pants and tugs him forward. "Not a bad idea."
When Spencer licks his lips, Brendon clears his throat. "Hey, now. A little too much innuendo out here for the kiddos."
Frank nods emphatically. "Fuckin' A."
"Your buss free?" Bob asks, pulling Spencer closer.
Jon comes up behind them, Ryan in tow and says, "It is now. There's a Starbucks down the street, we're going for coffee."
Ryan pulls his big sunglasses down over his face and pushes the sleeves up on his shirt. "You guys want to come?"
"Hell, no," Spencer says.
Frank and Brendon wave Jon and Ryan off, then watch Spencer tug Bob toward the bus.
"Young love." Frank fakes a wistful sigh.
"Yep," Brendon agrees. "It's a shame they've only got a couple of minutes of privacy before Ryan busts in on them."
Frank shakes his head. "Nah, it'll take at least ten minutes to get to that Starbucks."
"I'll bet you fifty bucks Ryan's back in less than three."
Frank shrugs. "Alright, you're on."
He plops down on the asphalt and leans back against their bus tire. He's got a clear view of the Panic bus from his spot. Brendon doesn't sit, just crosses his arms over his chest and keeps an eye on his watch. Before Frank even has the chance to get comfortable, Ryan and Jon come back around the corner.
Frank's jaw drops and Brendon gives a triumphant little fist pump. "Forty-five seconds, bitch!"
He smacks a kiss on Ryan's cheek when he hurries by and Frank begrudgingly pays up. Jon stops and slings an arm across Brendon's shoulders and doesn't follow Ryan back to the bus.
Brendon flaps the fifty in Jon's face. "The spoils of war, Jon."
Jon nods sagely and snatches the fifty out of Brendon's hand, tucks it into his pocket. Brendon shrugs and doesn't make any attempt at getting it back.
Frank gets to his feet. "What the shit, Urie? If you didn't want the money you coulda given it back to me! It's my week to buy cigarettes."
Jon smiles apologetically. "It's Brendon's week to buy something else that's smokeable."
Frank kicks at Brendon's shins, but Brendon steps out of the way and Frank's too dejected to try again. "How did you know they'd be back, anyway?"
Brendon grins. "Ryan forgets shit."
"Today it's his cell phone," Jon says, tapping his watch-less wrist when Ryan steps out of the bus. "Time's a-wasting, Ross!"
Frank's still pouting when Jon and Ryan head off again. He's so busy lamenting his loss, that he doesn't realize that Brendon is moving forward until he's right up in Frank's space.
"Don't be such a soar loser, Frank."
Frank sticks his bottom lip out and is more surprised than he should be when Brendon catches it between his teeth.
"Won't Ross and Walker be back in half a minute?" he asks, letting Brendon crowd him up against the side of the bus.
"Jon only lets him come back once. Besides, I've got another fifty in my pocket that says I can make you forget all about losing the first one."
Frank huffs out a laugh and fists a hand in Brendon's shirt. "It's a bet."
Author: Elissa
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Bob/Spencer, Frank/Brendon
Summary: Brendon shrugs. "What was the bet, anyway?" "Whether or not you losers would defend Smith's honor," Frank says. Brendon scoffs. "Dude, to the death."
Disclaimer: Not real. Not even a little bit.
Author's Notes: Silly little thing for shutyourface. Un-betaed, so feel free to point out mistakes if you spot any.
"Your drummer's a fucking asshole," Frank says, all matter of fact.
Brendon's eyes widen, then narrow, and Frank can see his jaw clench from three feet away. He doesn't say anything, but Frank can tell he wants to, can tell he's searching for words or restraint, something.
Frank almost wants to laugh, because this kid is so not threatening, but his eyes are intense and he's holding himself utterly still, like maybe he might be throwing punches if he thought he could get away with it. Also, Frank's on the verge of losing a bet, and that shit's never funny.
Finally Brendon says, "That's not how this is going to work."
Frank lifts an eyebrow, crosses his arms. "No?"
"I don't talk shit about your drummer, you don't get to talk shit about mine."
Frank huffs out a breath and kicks at the ground. "Fucking bullshit. Loyal fucking motherfuckers."
"Excuse me?" Brendon takes a step forward, but Frank shakes his head.
"Chill, Urie. You just cost me fifty bucks, is all."
When Spencer comes around the corner laughing, Bob in tow, Brendon's eyebrows go up.
"Pay up, Frankie."
Frank digs a crumpled fifty out of his pocket and relinquishes the bill to Spencer. Bob puts a consoling hand on his shoulder and Frank shrugs it off.
"Fuck off, Bryar. You're sleeping with the enemy."
Brendon snickers under his breath. "Yeah, literally."
When Spencer smiles at Brendon, Brendon grins back, big and bright. "I think you should split that with me, since I obviously helped you win it."
Bob says, "He'd have to split it four ways."
Frank rolls his eyes. "Ross and Walker helped, too."
"Give me twelve-fifty, bitch! Pay me my dues." Brendon makes grabby hands, but Spencer shoves the bill into his own pocket and swats his hands away.
Brendon shrugs. "What was the bet, anyway?"
"Whether or not you losers would defend Smith's honor," Frank says.
Brendon scoffs. "Dude, to the death."
Spencer quirks his lips at Bob. "It's not like your guys wouldn't do the same."
"They wouldn't." Bob curls a hand around the back of Spencer's neck and throws Frank a sideways look.
Frank grins. "Well, I would. Maybe Ray. It's the Way's you've got to worry about. They're coldhearted."
"Yeah, I'm so sure dude." Spencer huffs out a laugh and shares a look with Brendon, like neither of them can fathom a world in which gauntlets aren't thrown anytime anyone speaks ill of a band mate. They probably can't.
Frank cocks his head. "Do I smell another bet?"
Bob shakes his head. "That's a sucker's bet, Frankie."
"Maybe. But is it a bet your boyfriend's gonna take?"
Spencer sticks out a hand. "Okay, it's a deal. We send Brendon in. Bet's on the fifty."
Frank clasps his hand around Spencer's. "Gee and Mikey first. If one of them takes the bait, jumps to Bob's defense, we'll use Ray as a tie breaker."
Spencer nods and they both shake on it.
On the way to the bus, Brendon sidles up beside Frank, bumps their hips together. "I'm glad you're not actually a trash-talking douchenozzle. I would have been sad about having to hate you."
Frank bumps back. "Win this bet for me, Urie, and I'll show you just how un-hateable I am."
"I'm pretty sure that's not a word." Bob sticks out a foot and Frank trips over it.
Frank glares. "I'm pretty sure tripping people makes you a tool."
Brendon reaches out an arm to steady Frank, then turns around and walks backwards, raises an eyebrow at Spencer. "Frank promised me blowjobs if I win this bet for him, it's gonna be pretty hard to top that, Spence."
Frank trips again, this time without the aid of Bob's foot. "What the fuck, Urie?"
Brendon steadies him again and Bob almost sends them both tumbling when he reaches out to cuff Brendon on the back of the head. "Keep your dick to yourself, would you?"
Brendon pouts exaggeratedly and Spencer shrugs. "Bob's mom never taught him how to share."
Frank's got a crack about Bob's mom right on the tip of his tongue, but Brendon is clearly still waiting for Spencer's offer, so he holds back.
Spencer says, "Twelve-fifty."
Brendon grins and worms his way in between Spencer and Bob, slings his arms over their shoulders and hauls himself up so that his toes are dragging the ground. "Deal!"
Frank scoffs. "My mouth is worth more than twelve-fifty."
"That's what she said," Brendon crows, and Bob hooks an arm under Brendon's knees, pulls up until Brendon tucks and flips over backwards, landing on his feet behind them.
It takes him a second to get his footing, but once he does, he jogs to catch up with Frank. "Plus, dude, I heard you gave some tech a hoover for ten bucks once."
Frank wrinkles his nose. "Oh, yeah? Well you should hear the shit people say about you."
---
Brendon tries his hardest to offend the Way's. He says some pretty vile shit, actually. Frank's kind of impressed. In the end, though, Gerard and Mikey aren't phased.
Brendon's got frown lines creasing his forehead when Frank makes him give up the bet thirty minutes in. He's still looking cranky when they meet Bob and Spencer outside.
"It's like they didn't even know I was there. It went in one ear and out the other."
Bob nods knowingly. "They have selective hearing."
Frank holds his hand out and wiggles his fingers until Spencer hands over the fifty. "Plus," he says, folding the bill and sticking it in his back pocket. "I hid the coffee from Gee this morning and Mike was on his cell phone."
"Dude, then he was operating under a handicap. I call unfair advantage."
Frank smirks. "Suck it up, Smith."
Bob hooks a finger in the waist of Spencer's pants and tugs him forward. "Not a bad idea."
When Spencer licks his lips, Brendon clears his throat. "Hey, now. A little too much innuendo out here for the kiddos."
Frank nods emphatically. "Fuckin' A."
"Your buss free?" Bob asks, pulling Spencer closer.
Jon comes up behind them, Ryan in tow and says, "It is now. There's a Starbucks down the street, we're going for coffee."
Ryan pulls his big sunglasses down over his face and pushes the sleeves up on his shirt. "You guys want to come?"
"Hell, no," Spencer says.
Frank and Brendon wave Jon and Ryan off, then watch Spencer tug Bob toward the bus.
"Young love." Frank fakes a wistful sigh.
"Yep," Brendon agrees. "It's a shame they've only got a couple of minutes of privacy before Ryan busts in on them."
Frank shakes his head. "Nah, it'll take at least ten minutes to get to that Starbucks."
"I'll bet you fifty bucks Ryan's back in less than three."
Frank shrugs. "Alright, you're on."
He plops down on the asphalt and leans back against their bus tire. He's got a clear view of the Panic bus from his spot. Brendon doesn't sit, just crosses his arms over his chest and keeps an eye on his watch. Before Frank even has the chance to get comfortable, Ryan and Jon come back around the corner.
Frank's jaw drops and Brendon gives a triumphant little fist pump. "Forty-five seconds, bitch!"
He smacks a kiss on Ryan's cheek when he hurries by and Frank begrudgingly pays up. Jon stops and slings an arm across Brendon's shoulders and doesn't follow Ryan back to the bus.
Brendon flaps the fifty in Jon's face. "The spoils of war, Jon."
Jon nods sagely and snatches the fifty out of Brendon's hand, tucks it into his pocket. Brendon shrugs and doesn't make any attempt at getting it back.
Frank gets to his feet. "What the shit, Urie? If you didn't want the money you coulda given it back to me! It's my week to buy cigarettes."
Jon smiles apologetically. "It's Brendon's week to buy something else that's smokeable."
Frank kicks at Brendon's shins, but Brendon steps out of the way and Frank's too dejected to try again. "How did you know they'd be back, anyway?"
Brendon grins. "Ryan forgets shit."
"Today it's his cell phone," Jon says, tapping his watch-less wrist when Ryan steps out of the bus. "Time's a-wasting, Ross!"
Frank's still pouting when Jon and Ryan head off again. He's so busy lamenting his loss, that he doesn't realize that Brendon is moving forward until he's right up in Frank's space.
"Don't be such a soar loser, Frank."
Frank sticks his bottom lip out and is more surprised than he should be when Brendon catches it between his teeth.
"Won't Ross and Walker be back in half a minute?" he asks, letting Brendon crowd him up against the side of the bus.
"Jon only lets him come back once. Besides, I've got another fifty in my pocket that says I can make you forget all about losing the first one."
Frank huffs out a laugh and fists a hand in Brendon's shirt. "It's a bet."