You Can Take The Religion Out Of The Boy... [s/a]
Title: You Can Take The Religion Out Of The Boy...
Author: panicmydear
Rating: PG-13 for some cursing and religion
Pairing: Caring!Ryan and Pouty!Brendon (side Jon/Spencer)
POV: 3rd, Ryan-centric
Summary: Every time Brendon was looked in the face by a "Jesus Is Risen!" sign or a flyer that stated "Jesus is the savior!", he flushed, grit his jaw, and walked the other way.
Disclaimer: Don't own, never happened.
Author Notes: I figured a lot of people were going to write fluff, so I went in another direction. If you can't had criticism of religion, don't read. This is stuff I'm struggling with and needed to get off my chest. If you care to discuss, go ahead, but please don't try to preach. Thanks. Gets fluffy at the end.
Ryan's eyes cracked open to pure unadulterated sunlight and his dog buried into his neck. Groaning, he pushed Hobo to the side gently and sat up in bed. Something wasn't right, he decided as looked around. Something was missing.
Rather, someone.
Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair. He was exhausted. Wasn't it bad enough that he had to stay awake until Brendon fell asleep to hide the damn Easter eggs? Wasn't it bad enough that was at about two thirty, when Brendon finally wound down after two Red Bulls and three bowls of Froot Loops? God, the things he does for his boyfriend.
Ryan slid out bed, his feet touching the wooden floor in a small creak as he did. He stretched his skinny limbs for a moment before leaving his room and making his way toward the living room.
He saw Brendon sitting on the couch, leaning forward and staring at the TV with a blank, empty look on his face. His regularly full lips were pressed into a tight, serious line as his eyes betrayed nothing. His glasses were on, but he still looked scary.
Ryan was scared. He wasn't used to seeing Brendon like this. Brendon would usually be running around, screaming, "Where did that damn bunny hide those fucking eggs?!" Not this morning, though. Bden had checked out. Mr. Urie had been left in his place.
It wasn't until Ryan realized what he was watching that he understood.
It was an Easter Sunday sermon.
"And, it was on the third day that Christ rose again! He was crucified on the cross to die for the sins of man. For each and every one of you!" the balding preacher stated with conviction. "He didn't have to do it, but he did, because he loves you! The Lord loves each and every one of his children, and He wants to give each of you eternal life! All you have to do is believe in Him and confess your sins!" The crowd around him cheered and hollered.
Ryan knew how Brendon felt about the "true meaning" of Easter. He tried to cover up what he was taught in the past by over doing the whole "bunny" thing. He painted eggs with deep concentration. He bought a shit load of candy. He decorated the house with little rabbit figurines. Anything to get him off of the topic of Jesus, he did. Every time Brendon was looked in the face by a "Jesus Is Risen!" sign or a flyer that stated "Jesus is the savior!", he flushed, grit his jaw, and walked the other way.
It was because he felt betrayed. For seventeen years of his life, it was pounded into his mind that God was watching you and taking care of you. "The Lord loves everyone", "the Bible is the only truth", and "you have to be good to get into heaven" were constantly told to him over and over. As he grew older and went to public high school, he started to question his beliefs a little, but not entirely. He still had his family taking him to church and keeping him on a tight leash.
Then, he met Ryan, Spencer, and Brent, and formed the band. At the time, they didn't know how popular they'd get or if any of it would mean anything, but they were just regular teenagers. They smoked, they had the occasional beer. Brendon was exposed to that and didn't know how to handle it. His old ways kept coming back subconsciously. He found himself questioning if something was wrong or right, and for what? For a book that tells him that some being is out there, controlling the world with an iron fist? If God was out there, really out there, wouldn't he help the people that were suffering in the world? Wouldn't he care?
The breaking point was when his parents told him to quit the band, as soon as they heard what they had been working on in the studio. He decided, fuck it, if God's really there, he'll want me to live my dream. He knew at that point that Mormonism wasn't for him. He stopped going to church and moved out shortly after. He had already graduated, so what was stopping him? He crashed with Spencer, and, in essence, Ryan, because Ryan was there 24/7 anyways.
He liked his new life. For the first time, he felt really free. He wouldn't give up his job for the world. Music was his passion and had been since a young age. He wasn't going to give up this opportunity just because he sang Ryan's words about sex or other personal struggles. Who were other people to judge if that was appropriate or not?
It was at that point that Ryan wrote "I Constantly Thank God For Esteban". He wrote it for Brendon and about the things that he had complained about to him. Ryan had also had his share of religious burdens, having gone to a Catholic high school. He didn't believe the things that were said. He hated hypocrites, and most religious people he had come into contact with were. They wandered around, going to church when it didn't mean anything to them instead of a ticket out of hell. They looked miserable like they would rather be anywhere else. If God was so great, then why weren't they more excited? These things jaded him and made him generally untrusting of Christianity or anything similar. That song was sort of their song. Their song of rebellion and saying, "Hey, fuck you, we don't need you to order us around."
Since then, Brendon shunned religion of all natures. Even when Ryan started doing yoga and all that zen stuff, he steered far clear. As much as he didn't want to admit it, all of those years of living a lie and praying to thin air had made an impact on him. He wasn't willing to take the risk of being deceived again. How could he know what was true and what was false?
"Bren, turn that shit off," Ryan whispered. He wasn't ordering him by any means, he just wanted to announce his presence and get Brendon to stop torturing himself.
Brendon looked up, his brown eyes wavering as he did. "I'm sorry, I just..." he trailed off, not knowing how to really make his case.
"It's alright, just. Turn it off, okay? I know you don't need to hear that," Ryan replied.
Brendon looked back to the TV, biting his lip, torn between following his advice and being a world class masochist. He chose the former, grabbing the remote and clicking the power button. The room was engulfed in an uncomfortable silence.
Ryan tentatively sat next to Brendon, curling up into his side and looking at his face. "Hey, you need to talk?" he asked quietly. He hated seeing Brendon like this, all depressed. It was his twenty-second birthday for crying out loud.
"It's just... I don't know. I feel out of place. Not going to church this morning and all. I know it's not the first year, but... It still feels weird, you know?" Brendon explained. "You were still sleeping, and I didn't want to wake you up, so I turned on the TV, and it was just. There."
Ryan placed his hand lightly behind Brendon's neck and rubbed it soothingly. "I get it, you know? It was your life for a really long time. You can't just get over it like it was nothing. It's just taking you a little while," he answered.
Brendon leaned his head on Ryan's shoulder, sighing. "The only other time Easter was on my birthday was when I turned twelve," he informed him.
"Ew. Damn, that sucks. I'm sorry. Did your parents make you go to church?" Ryan asked, tucking his arms around Brendon's body.
"Ya. I was fucking pissed. I had just turned twelve-years-old and had to wake up at seven to get ready for church. My sisters kept laughing at me. I wasn't a happy camper," Brendon explained.
"That blows. I'm glad my birthday's never on a holiday," Ryan simpered.
"You're lucky. My parents basically forgot about it. They were like, 'Oh ya, happy birthday, here's a tie.' I wanted a fucking Play station, dammit," Brendon grumbled.
"Well, even though you're not into that shit anymore, your mom still loves you. That's all that matters, you know? They accept you now," Ryan stated.
"Ya, but. They don't know," Brendon whispered.
"About what?" Ryan asked.
"Us. I'm afraid if I tell them, that it'll be the last straw. They'll hate me forever."
Ryan kissed his lips lightly. "It's fine, B. Tell them when you're ready. I can wait."
"They've been bugging me to go back to the church ever since I left, but... I just can't be a part of something that tells me this isn't right," Brendon replied softly, leaning his forehead onto Ryan's.
"There's nothing wrong with us, alright? You and me, what we have... it's perfect. Don't doubt that for a second. I love you, alright? And you love me. We're not going to let a religion bother us, right?"
Brendon smiled. "Right. I love you, Ry. Always have."
Ryan took his face in his hands, seeing the scared boy he met five years ago. The red glasses rimming his eyes were one and the same. "I love you, too. Happy birthday," he stated.
Brendon kissed him for a moment, then pulled away. "Come on, let's go look for those eggs. I need candy, dammit."
Ryan chuckled. His Bden was back and here to stay. "Let's do it."
Brendon jumped up and scanned the room, looking for any evidence of a brightly-colored egg. "Shit, there's one!" he shouted, running over to the bookshelf and taking out a pink and orange speckled egg.
Ryan chuckled. He loved when Brendon acted like this. It made him happy to see that he was happy.
"God, quiet down, would you? We're trying to sleep," Spencer muttered sleepily from the hallway.
"You wouldn't be so tired if you and Jon kept your hands to yourselves," Brendon retorted, sticking out his tongue.
Jon appeared behind Spencer, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. "I could say the same to you," he stated. "Ryan, where's the candy you promised me?"
Ryan sighed. "In the basket on the table labeled 'Jon'," he answered.
Jon removed his hands from Spencer to make his way to kitchen.
Spencer shook his head. "Grab me a Peep!" he shouted after his retreating back.
"Blue or red?!" Jon questioned from the other room.
"Red!" Spencer replied.
"Ryan, can you grab that egg for me?" Brendon pleaded, about ten other eggs already in his arms.
Ryan walked over and reached up to the doorframe easily and snatched the egg. "What's my prize for retrieving this?" he questioned.
Brendon thought for a moment. "A lifetime's worth of servitude," he decided.
"I thought I already had that."
"You did."
Ryan smiled and kissed Brendon deeply while setting the egg in his arms. "Don't drop those," he mumbled against his mouth.
Jon reappeared, looking like he had something shoved in his cheek. "I don't care what anyone says. Peeps are the godliest thing in the world," he stated, his voice slightly muffled.
"Where's mine?" Spencer pouted.
Jon smirked the best he could with a full mouth. "You're about to find out," he said, leaning in and connected their lips.
"Ew! He just shoved a chick-shaped marshmellow Peep in his mouth with his tongue!" Brendon squealed.
Spencer flicked him off without even losing stride in their lips.
FIN.
I know that I epic fail at the Mormonism topic. Please don't shoot me because I got everything wrong.
Author: panicmydear
Rating: PG-13 for some cursing and religion
Pairing: Caring!Ryan and Pouty!Brendon (side Jon/Spencer)
POV: 3rd, Ryan-centric
Summary: Every time Brendon was looked in the face by a "Jesus Is Risen!" sign or a flyer that stated "Jesus is the savior!", he flushed, grit his jaw, and walked the other way.
Disclaimer: Don't own, never happened.
Author Notes: I figured a lot of people were going to write fluff, so I went in another direction. If you can't had criticism of religion, don't read. This is stuff I'm struggling with and needed to get off my chest. If you care to discuss, go ahead, but please don't try to preach. Thanks. Gets fluffy at the end.
Ryan's eyes cracked open to pure unadulterated sunlight and his dog buried into his neck. Groaning, he pushed Hobo to the side gently and sat up in bed. Something wasn't right, he decided as looked around. Something was missing.
Rather, someone.
Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair. He was exhausted. Wasn't it bad enough that he had to stay awake until Brendon fell asleep to hide the damn Easter eggs? Wasn't it bad enough that was at about two thirty, when Brendon finally wound down after two Red Bulls and three bowls of Froot Loops? God, the things he does for his boyfriend.
Ryan slid out bed, his feet touching the wooden floor in a small creak as he did. He stretched his skinny limbs for a moment before leaving his room and making his way toward the living room.
He saw Brendon sitting on the couch, leaning forward and staring at the TV with a blank, empty look on his face. His regularly full lips were pressed into a tight, serious line as his eyes betrayed nothing. His glasses were on, but he still looked scary.
Ryan was scared. He wasn't used to seeing Brendon like this. Brendon would usually be running around, screaming, "Where did that damn bunny hide those fucking eggs?!" Not this morning, though. Bden had checked out. Mr. Urie had been left in his place.
It wasn't until Ryan realized what he was watching that he understood.
It was an Easter Sunday sermon.
"And, it was on the third day that Christ rose again! He was crucified on the cross to die for the sins of man. For each and every one of you!" the balding preacher stated with conviction. "He didn't have to do it, but he did, because he loves you! The Lord loves each and every one of his children, and He wants to give each of you eternal life! All you have to do is believe in Him and confess your sins!" The crowd around him cheered and hollered.
Ryan knew how Brendon felt about the "true meaning" of Easter. He tried to cover up what he was taught in the past by over doing the whole "bunny" thing. He painted eggs with deep concentration. He bought a shit load of candy. He decorated the house with little rabbit figurines. Anything to get him off of the topic of Jesus, he did. Every time Brendon was looked in the face by a "Jesus Is Risen!" sign or a flyer that stated "Jesus is the savior!", he flushed, grit his jaw, and walked the other way.
It was because he felt betrayed. For seventeen years of his life, it was pounded into his mind that God was watching you and taking care of you. "The Lord loves everyone", "the Bible is the only truth", and "you have to be good to get into heaven" were constantly told to him over and over. As he grew older and went to public high school, he started to question his beliefs a little, but not entirely. He still had his family taking him to church and keeping him on a tight leash.
Then, he met Ryan, Spencer, and Brent, and formed the band. At the time, they didn't know how popular they'd get or if any of it would mean anything, but they were just regular teenagers. They smoked, they had the occasional beer. Brendon was exposed to that and didn't know how to handle it. His old ways kept coming back subconsciously. He found himself questioning if something was wrong or right, and for what? For a book that tells him that some being is out there, controlling the world with an iron fist? If God was out there, really out there, wouldn't he help the people that were suffering in the world? Wouldn't he care?
The breaking point was when his parents told him to quit the band, as soon as they heard what they had been working on in the studio. He decided, fuck it, if God's really there, he'll want me to live my dream. He knew at that point that Mormonism wasn't for him. He stopped going to church and moved out shortly after. He had already graduated, so what was stopping him? He crashed with Spencer, and, in essence, Ryan, because Ryan was there 24/7 anyways.
He liked his new life. For the first time, he felt really free. He wouldn't give up his job for the world. Music was his passion and had been since a young age. He wasn't going to give up this opportunity just because he sang Ryan's words about sex or other personal struggles. Who were other people to judge if that was appropriate or not?
It was at that point that Ryan wrote "I Constantly Thank God For Esteban". He wrote it for Brendon and about the things that he had complained about to him. Ryan had also had his share of religious burdens, having gone to a Catholic high school. He didn't believe the things that were said. He hated hypocrites, and most religious people he had come into contact with were. They wandered around, going to church when it didn't mean anything to them instead of a ticket out of hell. They looked miserable like they would rather be anywhere else. If God was so great, then why weren't they more excited? These things jaded him and made him generally untrusting of Christianity or anything similar. That song was sort of their song. Their song of rebellion and saying, "Hey, fuck you, we don't need you to order us around."
Since then, Brendon shunned religion of all natures. Even when Ryan started doing yoga and all that zen stuff, he steered far clear. As much as he didn't want to admit it, all of those years of living a lie and praying to thin air had made an impact on him. He wasn't willing to take the risk of being deceived again. How could he know what was true and what was false?
"Bren, turn that shit off," Ryan whispered. He wasn't ordering him by any means, he just wanted to announce his presence and get Brendon to stop torturing himself.
Brendon looked up, his brown eyes wavering as he did. "I'm sorry, I just..." he trailed off, not knowing how to really make his case.
"It's alright, just. Turn it off, okay? I know you don't need to hear that," Ryan replied.
Brendon looked back to the TV, biting his lip, torn between following his advice and being a world class masochist. He chose the former, grabbing the remote and clicking the power button. The room was engulfed in an uncomfortable silence.
Ryan tentatively sat next to Brendon, curling up into his side and looking at his face. "Hey, you need to talk?" he asked quietly. He hated seeing Brendon like this, all depressed. It was his twenty-second birthday for crying out loud.
"It's just... I don't know. I feel out of place. Not going to church this morning and all. I know it's not the first year, but... It still feels weird, you know?" Brendon explained. "You were still sleeping, and I didn't want to wake you up, so I turned on the TV, and it was just. There."
Ryan placed his hand lightly behind Brendon's neck and rubbed it soothingly. "I get it, you know? It was your life for a really long time. You can't just get over it like it was nothing. It's just taking you a little while," he answered.
Brendon leaned his head on Ryan's shoulder, sighing. "The only other time Easter was on my birthday was when I turned twelve," he informed him.
"Ew. Damn, that sucks. I'm sorry. Did your parents make you go to church?" Ryan asked, tucking his arms around Brendon's body.
"Ya. I was fucking pissed. I had just turned twelve-years-old and had to wake up at seven to get ready for church. My sisters kept laughing at me. I wasn't a happy camper," Brendon explained.
"That blows. I'm glad my birthday's never on a holiday," Ryan simpered.
"You're lucky. My parents basically forgot about it. They were like, 'Oh ya, happy birthday, here's a tie.' I wanted a fucking Play station, dammit," Brendon grumbled.
"Well, even though you're not into that shit anymore, your mom still loves you. That's all that matters, you know? They accept you now," Ryan stated.
"Ya, but. They don't know," Brendon whispered.
"About what?" Ryan asked.
"Us. I'm afraid if I tell them, that it'll be the last straw. They'll hate me forever."
Ryan kissed his lips lightly. "It's fine, B. Tell them when you're ready. I can wait."
"They've been bugging me to go back to the church ever since I left, but... I just can't be a part of something that tells me this isn't right," Brendon replied softly, leaning his forehead onto Ryan's.
"There's nothing wrong with us, alright? You and me, what we have... it's perfect. Don't doubt that for a second. I love you, alright? And you love me. We're not going to let a religion bother us, right?"
Brendon smiled. "Right. I love you, Ry. Always have."
Ryan took his face in his hands, seeing the scared boy he met five years ago. The red glasses rimming his eyes were one and the same. "I love you, too. Happy birthday," he stated.
Brendon kissed him for a moment, then pulled away. "Come on, let's go look for those eggs. I need candy, dammit."
Ryan chuckled. His Bden was back and here to stay. "Let's do it."
Brendon jumped up and scanned the room, looking for any evidence of a brightly-colored egg. "Shit, there's one!" he shouted, running over to the bookshelf and taking out a pink and orange speckled egg.
Ryan chuckled. He loved when Brendon acted like this. It made him happy to see that he was happy.
"God, quiet down, would you? We're trying to sleep," Spencer muttered sleepily from the hallway.
"You wouldn't be so tired if you and Jon kept your hands to yourselves," Brendon retorted, sticking out his tongue.
Jon appeared behind Spencer, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. "I could say the same to you," he stated. "Ryan, where's the candy you promised me?"
Ryan sighed. "In the basket on the table labeled 'Jon'," he answered.
Jon removed his hands from Spencer to make his way to kitchen.
Spencer shook his head. "Grab me a Peep!" he shouted after his retreating back.
"Blue or red?!" Jon questioned from the other room.
"Red!" Spencer replied.
"Ryan, can you grab that egg for me?" Brendon pleaded, about ten other eggs already in his arms.
Ryan walked over and reached up to the doorframe easily and snatched the egg. "What's my prize for retrieving this?" he questioned.
Brendon thought for a moment. "A lifetime's worth of servitude," he decided.
"I thought I already had that."
"You did."
Ryan smiled and kissed Brendon deeply while setting the egg in his arms. "Don't drop those," he mumbled against his mouth.
Jon reappeared, looking like he had something shoved in his cheek. "I don't care what anyone says. Peeps are the godliest thing in the world," he stated, his voice slightly muffled.
"Where's mine?" Spencer pouted.
Jon smirked the best he could with a full mouth. "You're about to find out," he said, leaning in and connected their lips.
"Ew! He just shoved a chick-shaped marshmellow Peep in his mouth with his tongue!" Brendon squealed.
Spencer flicked him off without even losing stride in their lips.
FIN.
I know that I epic fail at the Mormonism topic. Please don't shoot me because I got everything wrong.