100 Steps: Drink
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[6] hipstamatic - christmas
Jon watches Brendon across the shop. He's with one of the baristas, using his hands to do most of the talking, and smiling. The barista looks a little gob-smacked but charmed, leaning forward as Brendon talks. Jon's eyes narrow.
"Oh my god, Walker. He's a grown man, he can flirt if he wants to."
Jon's cheeks are warm when he swings his gaze back around. Cassie's got one eyebrow quirked, smirking at him. Her hair's back to brown now and falling out of its ponytail. Jon kind of loves it. He reaches over, pulling on a strand. "Brendon's a little-"
He's not quite sure how to explain it, how protective he feels. How much Brendon's gotten under his skin in the few short months they've known each other. The look on Cassie's face softens at whatever she sees on his face. Glancing back towards the counter, she replies, "Yeah. He is, isn't he?"
Jon can't help grinning. Cassie's always been a softy and Brendon has enough of the lost puppy syndrome to reel her in.
"So, he doesn't talk to his parents?" Jon looks back across the shop where Brendon's still regaling the barista. The dude is one of half a dozen of the college hipsters that hang around this area. Only this seems to have forgotten that he's supposed to look indifferent, leaning into Brendon's space, to Brendon's space, infatuation clearly written all over his face. Brendon seems oblivious to the interest, but Jon wonders if it's real. He has a feeling Brendon's gotten a lot of practice pretending over the last few years.
A hand on his arm makes him realize that he never answered her.
"No." He shrugs. "Not that I've ever seen. I've asked a couple times, but it's the one thing he really doesn't ever talk about."
'Doesn't talk about it' is an understatement. Want to get Brendon to shut down? Ask about his parents. Or where he was at before Chicago, either will work. It always pisses Jon off when he thinks about it. They're still alive, he knows. Once or twice, he's beaten Brendon to the mailbox and seen the LDS newsletters. The ones that have the Sent lovingly from stickers, with Boyd & Grace Urie filled in. The newsletters always disappear shortly after, and Brendon usually ends up at the piano for a couple of hours, crashing chords finally tapering off to slow, bittersweet melodies. He tells Cassie this.
"Do you think it's because he's, well-" she hesitates. "Because of the liking guys thing?"
Jon huffs out a laugh. "I'm not really sure he's gay, Cass." She looks pointedly over Jon's shoulder and he can't help grinning. "Bden's got a lot of love to give, okay?" The smile fades away.
"He does," Jon repeats and this time Cassie smiles softly back at him. "I think they couldn't figure out how to deal with that, maybe? So Brendon did what he thought was best and left."
"And now he teaches music to pre-schoolers?" Nodding, Jon adds, "And on Thursdays, he's in charge of Art." Cassie bites her lip, fighting her own smile.
Thursdays are the best, really. Brendon comes home from work with at least a half a dozen new 'gifts,' each one taking up a space on the refrigerator. It's getting a little crowded, but Brendon is always reluctant to take any of them down. Jon has an idea, but he needs to do some research before he can implement it.
"Hey," he says. "What do you know about-" That's as far as he gets before Brendon is sliding into the seat beside him.
"Oh man, this place is the best!" Jon raises an eyebrow and Brendon lifts his cup. "I got a free drink!"
He's about to respond when Cassie lets out a peal of laughter, hand reaching out to touch Brendon's cup. She twists it around and taps the side. "I think this is the real reason, honey." Brendon's eyes widen and Jon watches a blush spreads across his face.
"What is it?" he asks. Cassie laughs again and keeps turning the cup around until Jon can read the 643-8763 call me! Cory sprawled down the side.
He laughs, watching Brendon blush harder and smile softly to himself.
[7] playing the part - christmas
[6] hipstamatic - christmas
Jon watches Brendon across the shop. He's with one of the baristas, using his hands to do most of the talking, and smiling. The barista looks a little gob-smacked but charmed, leaning forward as Brendon talks. Jon's eyes narrow.
"Oh my god, Walker. He's a grown man, he can flirt if he wants to."
Jon's cheeks are warm when he swings his gaze back around. Cassie's got one eyebrow quirked, smirking at him. Her hair's back to brown now and falling out of its ponytail. Jon kind of loves it. He reaches over, pulling on a strand. "Brendon's a little-"
He's not quite sure how to explain it, how protective he feels. How much Brendon's gotten under his skin in the few short months they've known each other. The look on Cassie's face softens at whatever she sees on his face. Glancing back towards the counter, she replies, "Yeah. He is, isn't he?"
Jon can't help grinning. Cassie's always been a softy and Brendon has enough of the lost puppy syndrome to reel her in.
"So, he doesn't talk to his parents?" Jon looks back across the shop where Brendon's still regaling the barista. The dude is one of half a dozen of the college hipsters that hang around this area. Only this seems to have forgotten that he's supposed to look indifferent, leaning into Brendon's space, to Brendon's space, infatuation clearly written all over his face. Brendon seems oblivious to the interest, but Jon wonders if it's real. He has a feeling Brendon's gotten a lot of practice pretending over the last few years.
A hand on his arm makes him realize that he never answered her.
"No." He shrugs. "Not that I've ever seen. I've asked a couple times, but it's the one thing he really doesn't ever talk about."
'Doesn't talk about it' is an understatement. Want to get Brendon to shut down? Ask about his parents. Or where he was at before Chicago, either will work. It always pisses Jon off when he thinks about it. They're still alive, he knows. Once or twice, he's beaten Brendon to the mailbox and seen the LDS newsletters. The ones that have the Sent lovingly from stickers, with Boyd & Grace Urie filled in. The newsletters always disappear shortly after, and Brendon usually ends up at the piano for a couple of hours, crashing chords finally tapering off to slow, bittersweet melodies. He tells Cassie this.
"Do you think it's because he's, well-" she hesitates. "Because of the liking guys thing?"
Jon huffs out a laugh. "I'm not really sure he's gay, Cass." She looks pointedly over Jon's shoulder and he can't help grinning. "Bden's got a lot of love to give, okay?" The smile fades away.
"He does," Jon repeats and this time Cassie smiles softly back at him. "I think they couldn't figure out how to deal with that, maybe? So Brendon did what he thought was best and left."
"And now he teaches music to pre-schoolers?" Nodding, Jon adds, "And on Thursdays, he's in charge of Art." Cassie bites her lip, fighting her own smile.
Thursdays are the best, really. Brendon comes home from work with at least a half a dozen new 'gifts,' each one taking up a space on the refrigerator. It's getting a little crowded, but Brendon is always reluctant to take any of them down. Jon has an idea, but he needs to do some research before he can implement it.
"Hey," he says. "What do you know about-" That's as far as he gets before Brendon is sliding into the seat beside him.
"Oh man, this place is the best!" Jon raises an eyebrow and Brendon lifts his cup. "I got a free drink!"
He's about to respond when Cassie lets out a peal of laughter, hand reaching out to touch Brendon's cup. She twists it around and taps the side. "I think this is the real reason, honey." Brendon's eyes widen and Jon watches a blush spreads across his face.
"What is it?" he asks. Cassie laughs again and keeps turning the cup around until Jon can read the 643-8763 call me! Cory sprawled down the side.
He laughs, watching Brendon blush harder and smile softly to himself.
[7] playing the part - christmas