I'll Do Anything For You (No, Really) [s/a]
Title: I'll Do Anything For You (No, Really) [s/a]
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: PG
Pairing: Rydon
POV: 3rd, Brendon-centric
Summary: Ryan gets sick and Brendon worries.
Word Count: 1,602
Disclaimer: If this happened, I want videos. But I highly doubt it, because it came from my brain, which is kind of cray-cray from all the word dust. So if you Googled yourself to get here, you should probably hit the back button RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.
Beta: ezdeeppornkittn
Author Notes: Holy shit, I'm still writing Rydon? Amazing. A little something based off of a short interview where the guys talk about showering. Dedicated to slashxmistress for introducing me to that video. Also, thank you aholelabledlove for encouraging my crazy ideas, as usual.
Brendon wakes up to a loud, hacking cough from the bunk across from his and he blinks himself into consciousness. The bus is no longer pitch black, the faint rays of the morning sun peeking through every available crack of the curtains. They're somewhere in the middle of nowhere England and it's cold, but Brendon's cozy in his nest of sheets and blankets.
The coughing comes again, a gasping breath following. The sounds are distinctly coming from Ryan's bunk, so Brendon quickly pulls on the nearest pair of underwear and tumbles out onto the floor, poking his head into Ryan's bunk. "Ry, you alright in there?" he whispers, because if Spencer and Brent were still asleep through Ryan's coughing, they certainly wouldn't want to be woken by Brendon.
"Uh huh," Ryan mutters against his pillow. He's curled up on his side, facing the wall, his blanket just barely covering his pale shoulder. Another coughing fit wracks his entire body, and Brendon crawls in with him, rubbing his back soothingly. "Brendon, don't. Don't want you sick too," Ryan whines, sniffling.
"I have an immune system of steel, Ryan Ross," Brendon replies, refusing to move.
Ryan coughs again, this time reaching out for the box of Kleenex between himself and the wall, spitting into a tissue.
"Want me to go see if we have anything for that?" Brendon asks, already halfway out of the bunk again.
"Sure."
Brendon searches the entire bus for anything even remotely useful for whatever illness Ryan seems to have, and comes back with a bottle of water and some Mucinex. "Come on, Ry, sit up a little."
Brendon gets Ryan to swallow the pill and some water before letting him slump back down to his pillow, his eyes lidded and a little unfocused, mouth open slightly so he could breathe.
"You really shouldn't be so close," Ryan mutters when Brendon burrows under the blanket and curls an arm around Ryan's waist, but he doesn't move to push Brendon away.
"I'm keeping you warm. Now shut up and go back to sleep."
Ryan does, and Brendon follows not too far behind.
***
"Wake up, you two! Sound check in an hour, let's go!"
Brendon wakes up sweaty and he sits up, pushing the blanket off before seeing Ryan next to him, out cold, still in the same position he was in when he fell asleep. He hates to wake Ryan up when he's like this, but.
"Ry, hey, wake up," Brendon whispers, running his fingers through Ryan's hair.
Ryan grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, "Five more minutes," and attempts to roll over onto his stomach, coughing weakly.
"I know you don't feel good, but we have sound check in an hour," Brendon adds a little louder, patting Ryan's cheek. "Up."
Ryan groans, rolling onto his back and letting out another pitiful not-quite-a-cough. "I don't know if I'll be able to sing tonight," he half-whispers, his voice muddled with mucus and scratchy with sleep.
"Do you feel okay enough to play?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course." Ryan coughs a little again, starting to push Brendon out. "I'll be fine." Brendon crawls out of Ryan's bunk and Ryan follows, sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his hand.
Brendon bites his lip; Ryan stumbles a little, disoriented and still not awake like he hasn't slept in years. His hair shines with excess oil, stringy and a little matted in places like he hasn't showered in even longer. Brendon presses a hand to Ryan's back, prodding him towards the bathroom. "Let me wash your hair for you; it'll make you feel better."
Ryan grunts noncommittally and allows Brendon to push him into the bathroom.
"I'll be right back," Brendon tells him, leaving Ryan leaned against the bathroom counter while he retrieves a bottle of water from the kitchenette and Ryan's shampoo and towel from his bag. When Brendon returns, Ryan is hunched over the bathroom sink, his ass sticking out in a position that would be almost provocative if it wasn't for the fact that Ryan sounds like he's hacking up a lung. Brendon rests a hand on Ryan's back in an attempt to be comforting; he really would do anything to make Ryan feel better, but he's kind of at a loss.
Ryan spits into the sink and shifts, looking over his shoulder expectantly. "I'm fine."
"This might be a little cold," Brendon mutters, unscrewing the cap on the water bottle. He pours enough over Ryan's bowed head to get his hair wet before grabbing the shampoo bottle. He squeezes a little out onto his hand and begins working it into Ryan's scalp.
Ryan hums contentedly, the sound rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. Brendon can't tell from this angle, but he would bet his life that Ryan's eyes are closed. He can see Ryan's muscles relax a little, shoulders slumping.
Brendon scrubs at Ryan's scalp until the shampoo is nothing but white suds encasing Ryan's head. He grabs the water bottle and rinses Ryan's hair out with what's left. He then drapes the towel over Ryan's head, ruffling his hair with the towel before moving away to let him stand up.
Ryan's cheeks are tinged pink when he moves the towel out of his face, and Brendon can't breathe for a second. Brendon has been pushing the boundaries of their friendship a lot since they've been touring, but jumping his guitarist while he's sick would just cause more problems than it's worth.
Ryan raises an eyebrow, and Brendon's kind of staring.
"Sorry?"
"I need to piss, get out, Brendon."
There's a weird quality to Ryan's voice that Brendon can't quite place, but he doesn't linger to hear it turn into anger. "Right, getting out." Brendon quickly retreats from the bathroom and goes back to the bunks to find something to wear.
***
Ryan does well enough during the set, even managing to belt out something resembling the lines he's supposed to be singing, but as soon as he comes off stage to set his guitar down, he launches into a coughing fit. Brendon and the rest of the guys surround him immediately, asking him if he's okay. Ryan tries to wave them away, but Brendon puts an arm around him and leads him outside to the bus.
"What about the fans?" Ryan croaks on a half-breath between coughs.
Brendon sighs fondly. "They'll probably be mad at you because they don't understand, but I don't think they want you coughing all over them either." Brendon ruffles Ryan's hair and nudges him towards the bunks. "Now go get in bed and I'll bring you some meds."
Ryan shuffles towards the bunks while Brendon searches out the Mucinex and a water bottle. When he finally follows Ryan down the bus, Ryan's in the bathroom in just his boxer-briefs, spitting into the sink. Brendon offers him the pill and the bottle, and Ryan takes them with a hint of a smile, grateful. Ryan straightens up to take the medicine, and he's so thin, all bones and skin, pale and sickly looking. Brendon kind of wants to feed him cupcakes until he goes into a sugar coma, he looks so pitiful, and Brendon's heart clenches painfully.
Brendon wraps Ryan in a hug after he sets down the empty water bottle. Ryan's still for a moment before he finally brings his hands up to Brendon's waist, squeezing a little.
"Really, Brendon, I'm okay."
Brendon pulls away and wants to tell him that he's just worried, but Ryan's still got a hand on Brendon's waist, smiling like he already knows. Brendon nods instead, moving so Ryan can go to his bunk and crawl inside. Brendon clings to the curtain, teetering between joining him and going to make sure the fans don't devour Brent and Spencer outside. He doesn't really want to leave Ryan alone, but Ryan can take care of himself for a few minutes. He reaches out to push Ryan's hair off his forehead.
"Go," Ryan tells him softly, the ghost of a smile still playing at his lips.
"I'll be right back, I promise."
Ryan blinks up at Brendon, his eyelashes long and perfect, his eyes the clearest hazel, tilting his head so that his cheek is pressed into the pillow and Brendon never wants to look away again. "Thanks, B."
Brendon bites his lip and smiles all the way back to Brent and Spencer.
***
It takes them a half hour to get through signing autographs and taking pictures with the fans before they can finally go back to the bus. They check in on Ryan, who's fast asleep, before retreating to the back lounge to play video games. It feels like only minutes later that the bus is rolling and Brent yawns, and they decide to go to sleep.
Brendon hears Ryan sniffling while Brent climbs into his bunk and Spencer's in the bathroom brushing his teeth. Brendon pokes his head through the curtain, trying not to let any light in. "Ry?"
Ryan's facing the wall, but he grunts his acknowledgement.
"Want me to join you?"
Ryan doesn't answer, just reaches behind him to pull back the blanket, offering Brendon the empty space.
Brendon grins, pulling back to quickly strip down to his boxer-briefs before slipping in next to Ryan. He wraps an arm around Ryan and presses them together until there's not a breath of air between them, bodies touching from their toes all the way up to where Brendon's nuzzling into Ryan's hair.
Brendon feels their pulses mingling, can hear the soft rhythm of Ryan's breathing, and then nothing.
-----------------------------------------
A/N: More of my work here.
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: PG
Pairing: Rydon
POV: 3rd, Brendon-centric
Summary: Ryan gets sick and Brendon worries.
Word Count: 1,602
Disclaimer: If this happened, I want videos. But I highly doubt it, because it came from my brain, which is kind of cray-cray from all the word dust. So if you Googled yourself to get here, you should probably hit the back button RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.
Beta: ezdeeppornkittn
Author Notes: Holy shit, I'm still writing Rydon? Amazing. A little something based off of a short interview where the guys talk about showering. Dedicated to slashxmistress for introducing me to that video. Also, thank you aholelabledlove for encouraging my crazy ideas, as usual.
Brendon wakes up to a loud, hacking cough from the bunk across from his and he blinks himself into consciousness. The bus is no longer pitch black, the faint rays of the morning sun peeking through every available crack of the curtains. They're somewhere in the middle of nowhere England and it's cold, but Brendon's cozy in his nest of sheets and blankets.
The coughing comes again, a gasping breath following. The sounds are distinctly coming from Ryan's bunk, so Brendon quickly pulls on the nearest pair of underwear and tumbles out onto the floor, poking his head into Ryan's bunk. "Ry, you alright in there?" he whispers, because if Spencer and Brent were still asleep through Ryan's coughing, they certainly wouldn't want to be woken by Brendon.
"Uh huh," Ryan mutters against his pillow. He's curled up on his side, facing the wall, his blanket just barely covering his pale shoulder. Another coughing fit wracks his entire body, and Brendon crawls in with him, rubbing his back soothingly. "Brendon, don't. Don't want you sick too," Ryan whines, sniffling.
"I have an immune system of steel, Ryan Ross," Brendon replies, refusing to move.
Ryan coughs again, this time reaching out for the box of Kleenex between himself and the wall, spitting into a tissue.
"Want me to go see if we have anything for that?" Brendon asks, already halfway out of the bunk again.
"Sure."
Brendon searches the entire bus for anything even remotely useful for whatever illness Ryan seems to have, and comes back with a bottle of water and some Mucinex. "Come on, Ry, sit up a little."
Brendon gets Ryan to swallow the pill and some water before letting him slump back down to his pillow, his eyes lidded and a little unfocused, mouth open slightly so he could breathe.
"You really shouldn't be so close," Ryan mutters when Brendon burrows under the blanket and curls an arm around Ryan's waist, but he doesn't move to push Brendon away.
"I'm keeping you warm. Now shut up and go back to sleep."
Ryan does, and Brendon follows not too far behind.
***
"Wake up, you two! Sound check in an hour, let's go!"
Brendon wakes up sweaty and he sits up, pushing the blanket off before seeing Ryan next to him, out cold, still in the same position he was in when he fell asleep. He hates to wake Ryan up when he's like this, but.
"Ry, hey, wake up," Brendon whispers, running his fingers through Ryan's hair.
Ryan grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, "Five more minutes," and attempts to roll over onto his stomach, coughing weakly.
"I know you don't feel good, but we have sound check in an hour," Brendon adds a little louder, patting Ryan's cheek. "Up."
Ryan groans, rolling onto his back and letting out another pitiful not-quite-a-cough. "I don't know if I'll be able to sing tonight," he half-whispers, his voice muddled with mucus and scratchy with sleep.
"Do you feel okay enough to play?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course." Ryan coughs a little again, starting to push Brendon out. "I'll be fine." Brendon crawls out of Ryan's bunk and Ryan follows, sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his hand.
Brendon bites his lip; Ryan stumbles a little, disoriented and still not awake like he hasn't slept in years. His hair shines with excess oil, stringy and a little matted in places like he hasn't showered in even longer. Brendon presses a hand to Ryan's back, prodding him towards the bathroom. "Let me wash your hair for you; it'll make you feel better."
Ryan grunts noncommittally and allows Brendon to push him into the bathroom.
"I'll be right back," Brendon tells him, leaving Ryan leaned against the bathroom counter while he retrieves a bottle of water from the kitchenette and Ryan's shampoo and towel from his bag. When Brendon returns, Ryan is hunched over the bathroom sink, his ass sticking out in a position that would be almost provocative if it wasn't for the fact that Ryan sounds like he's hacking up a lung. Brendon rests a hand on Ryan's back in an attempt to be comforting; he really would do anything to make Ryan feel better, but he's kind of at a loss.
Ryan spits into the sink and shifts, looking over his shoulder expectantly. "I'm fine."
"This might be a little cold," Brendon mutters, unscrewing the cap on the water bottle. He pours enough over Ryan's bowed head to get his hair wet before grabbing the shampoo bottle. He squeezes a little out onto his hand and begins working it into Ryan's scalp.
Ryan hums contentedly, the sound rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. Brendon can't tell from this angle, but he would bet his life that Ryan's eyes are closed. He can see Ryan's muscles relax a little, shoulders slumping.
Brendon scrubs at Ryan's scalp until the shampoo is nothing but white suds encasing Ryan's head. He grabs the water bottle and rinses Ryan's hair out with what's left. He then drapes the towel over Ryan's head, ruffling his hair with the towel before moving away to let him stand up.
Ryan's cheeks are tinged pink when he moves the towel out of his face, and Brendon can't breathe for a second. Brendon has been pushing the boundaries of their friendship a lot since they've been touring, but jumping his guitarist while he's sick would just cause more problems than it's worth.
Ryan raises an eyebrow, and Brendon's kind of staring.
"Sorry?"
"I need to piss, get out, Brendon."
There's a weird quality to Ryan's voice that Brendon can't quite place, but he doesn't linger to hear it turn into anger. "Right, getting out." Brendon quickly retreats from the bathroom and goes back to the bunks to find something to wear.
***
Ryan does well enough during the set, even managing to belt out something resembling the lines he's supposed to be singing, but as soon as he comes off stage to set his guitar down, he launches into a coughing fit. Brendon and the rest of the guys surround him immediately, asking him if he's okay. Ryan tries to wave them away, but Brendon puts an arm around him and leads him outside to the bus.
"What about the fans?" Ryan croaks on a half-breath between coughs.
Brendon sighs fondly. "They'll probably be mad at you because they don't understand, but I don't think they want you coughing all over them either." Brendon ruffles Ryan's hair and nudges him towards the bunks. "Now go get in bed and I'll bring you some meds."
Ryan shuffles towards the bunks while Brendon searches out the Mucinex and a water bottle. When he finally follows Ryan down the bus, Ryan's in the bathroom in just his boxer-briefs, spitting into the sink. Brendon offers him the pill and the bottle, and Ryan takes them with a hint of a smile, grateful. Ryan straightens up to take the medicine, and he's so thin, all bones and skin, pale and sickly looking. Brendon kind of wants to feed him cupcakes until he goes into a sugar coma, he looks so pitiful, and Brendon's heart clenches painfully.
Brendon wraps Ryan in a hug after he sets down the empty water bottle. Ryan's still for a moment before he finally brings his hands up to Brendon's waist, squeezing a little.
"Really, Brendon, I'm okay."
Brendon pulls away and wants to tell him that he's just worried, but Ryan's still got a hand on Brendon's waist, smiling like he already knows. Brendon nods instead, moving so Ryan can go to his bunk and crawl inside. Brendon clings to the curtain, teetering between joining him and going to make sure the fans don't devour Brent and Spencer outside. He doesn't really want to leave Ryan alone, but Ryan can take care of himself for a few minutes. He reaches out to push Ryan's hair off his forehead.
"Go," Ryan tells him softly, the ghost of a smile still playing at his lips.
"I'll be right back, I promise."
Ryan blinks up at Brendon, his eyelashes long and perfect, his eyes the clearest hazel, tilting his head so that his cheek is pressed into the pillow and Brendon never wants to look away again. "Thanks, B."
Brendon bites his lip and smiles all the way back to Brent and Spencer.
***
It takes them a half hour to get through signing autographs and taking pictures with the fans before they can finally go back to the bus. They check in on Ryan, who's fast asleep, before retreating to the back lounge to play video games. It feels like only minutes later that the bus is rolling and Brent yawns, and they decide to go to sleep.
Brendon hears Ryan sniffling while Brent climbs into his bunk and Spencer's in the bathroom brushing his teeth. Brendon pokes his head through the curtain, trying not to let any light in. "Ry?"
Ryan's facing the wall, but he grunts his acknowledgement.
"Want me to join you?"
Ryan doesn't answer, just reaches behind him to pull back the blanket, offering Brendon the empty space.
Brendon grins, pulling back to quickly strip down to his boxer-briefs before slipping in next to Ryan. He wraps an arm around Ryan and presses them together until there's not a breath of air between them, bodies touching from their toes all the way up to where Brendon's nuzzling into Ryan's hair.
Brendon feels their pulses mingling, can hear the soft rhythm of Ryan's breathing, and then nothing.
-----------------------------------------
A/N: More of my work here.