fic: Sing Me A Rainbow (Steal Me A Dream)
Can't sleep. Wrote fic.
Spencer/Ryan BFF love. Kind of gen. Or threesome boyfriends with Brendon if you prefer to read it that way. 1180 words. PG.
ETA: For lolab, who appreciates metaphors about fish and hardware stores.
And because it's friggin' neat to have her fangirling me for a change after all the heart eyes I've been making at her pccf lately. lol.
Part I in this little 'verse can be found here.
Sing Me A Rainbow (Steal Me A Dream)
Spencer has known Ryan Ross since he was five years old, and since the band took off, they’ve been practically living on top of each other 90% of the time. So when Ryan and Keltie break up, Spencer should have seen it coming.
Maybe he did.
Maybe the whole denial thing is just another aspect of life that he and Ryan have perfected together.
Keltie was lovely. A perfect picture of everything Spencer has known Ryan to think he wanted since he discovered that girls existed as some kind of strange, pretty creatures whose hair he really wanted to touch. Ryan has never owned up to it, but Spencer is pretty sure he still keeps the checklist they made when they were twelve and thirteen scotch taped into one of his journals. “The Perfect Girl,” the list was called (or really, lists, because there had been one for each of them), and they had spent hours lying on the grass in Spencer’s back yard, adding important character traits. Some of them had fallen away when they got a little older (Spencer doesn’t consider it to be crucial that his future wife is shorter than 5’2 any longer; growth spurts happened. He’s very happy about that.), but most of them remained.
Blonde
Cute
Skinny
Hot legs
Cheerleader
Likes music
Wears lots of skirts
Long hair
Not clingy
Nice
Those had been in the top ten on Ryan’s list.
In retrospective, Spencer thinks it’s kind of surprising that “nice” even made the list. He doesn’t really think Ryan was honestly expecting to get that one. The girls Ryan knew when he was that age (and that he kept going back to, long after that) were not nice. They were young and insecure and often broken, hiding themselves behind attitude and mind games, and later adding makeup, alcohol and sex to the list.
Ryan would put them on pedestals. Wrap himself up in some kind of dark but shimmering fantasy where they were angels without wings and princesses to be freed from towers. He would idolise them and fall to his knees. Lift them up while somewhere at the back of his mind, there would be a voice telling him to push down instead.
They fell. One by one.
No one is a saint at fifteen.
Keltie had looked like more of the same. Spencer had barely even listened to a word she said when Ryan first brought her over to meet the gang. Spencer had two files for any girl Ryan liked by then: “scene queen” and “cosmo girl.” They came packaged in different colours, had different names for their demons, but really, when it came down to it, they were the same kind of co-dependent, messy jumbled balls of fears and hopes and twisted expectations.
Possibly the scene queens were a bit smarter. At least they knew that they were fucked up as hell.
Keltie was definitely a cosmo girl, which was one of the main reasons why Spencer kept his distance for so long. She was too shiny on the surface. To wrapped up in pink, brainwashing ribbons that told her to always please the world around her. To show affection to win affection. To love in order to be loved. She threw her tantrums and demanded respect just like the girls before her had, but since everything but her mouth screamed something completely different (Love me. Want me. Need me.), Spencer was not surprised that Ryan didn’t pay much attention to it.
A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.
Keltie had been the owner of a whole fucking hardware store.
Still, Spencer had hoped it would work this time, when the months started to turn into years and Ryan smiled more than he had before her. His moods turned lighter, his clothes more comfortable and his hair loose and curly, like he didn’t need to control every single aspect of his life anymore to stop himself from crumbling. Maybe that’s when Spencer had closed his eyes and decided not to look any further; he doesn’t really know when he went from hope to genuine belief.
They went on and off a lot. Even that was easy-going.
The kind of fake easy-going-but-really-falling-apart cosmo girl specialty.
If I run, will you chase me?
Ryan did. Spencer just isn’t sure he really cared about actually catching Keltie most of the time.
Also, she usually came back on her own.
It fell down in the end. Spencer doesn’t understand why. Like, he understands every one of the links that make up the chain, but when he puts them together, he still doesn’t get why it wouldn’t just work anyway.
It wasn't like there hadn’t been cheating before. Ryan didn’t even try to hide the fact that he and Keltie had some kind of unspoken don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy whenever the band was out on tour.
Maybe it was the “tell” part that fucked up the agreement.
Because there is just no way in hell that someone as meticulous as Ryan Ross would get caught cheating through something as cheesy as a text message unless he’d deliberately planned it that way.
The thoughts won’t leave him alone, so in the end, Spencer just asks. It’s one night at Brendon’s house, when they’re both getting ready for bed.
“Who was the text from?”
He doesn’t need to be more specific than that for Ryan to get it. It’s definitely one of the perks of having known someone all your life.
“Brendon,” Ryan admits, sitting down on Spencer’s air mattress, waiting for a reaction.
Spencer blinks. “Why?”
“I needed something good,” Ryan says. “Something strong enough. It had to be someone she knew I loved more than her. And someone who loved me enough to do it.”
“You could have asked me.”
It just slips out. Spencer mentally kicks himself.
Ryan reaches out to pull him down on the temporary bed, keeps nudging and wiggling until they’re stretched out on the blue sheets, limbs tangled and breathing perfectly synchronised.
“I wasn’t sure if you would have done it,” Ryan says. “Haley, she’s different. I don’t think she’d leave.”
“She would if I asked her. Not the way you did, but if I really asked, she would.”
“I know,” Ryan says, weaving his fingers with Spencer’s over Spencer’s hip. “That’s what makes her special, I think.”
“Yeah,” Spencer says, turning his head and smiling into Ryan’s hair. “It is.”
They fall asleep like that. Brendon wakes them in the morning, climbing all over them and inserting himself into the middle.
“I told him,” Ryan mumbles sleepily, wrapping his arms tightly around Brendon’s chest and curling up behind him.
“Good,” Brendon replies with a yawn, turning his head to meet Ryan’s mouth for a soft, simple kiss. “Did you tell him you love him too?”
“He didn’t need to,” Spencer says, snuggling into them as well, one leg finding its way between Brendon’s, his foot hooking itself securely around Ryan’s calf. “That part, I already knew.”
Liked it? There's more fic right here.
Spencer/Ryan BFF love. Kind of gen. Or threesome boyfriends with Brendon if you prefer to read it that way. 1180 words. PG.
ETA: For lolab, who appreciates metaphors about fish and hardware stores.
And because it's friggin' neat to have her fangirling me for a change after all the heart eyes I've been making at her pccf lately. lol.
Part I in this little 'verse can be found here.
Sing Me A Rainbow (Steal Me A Dream)
Spencer has known Ryan Ross since he was five years old, and since the band took off, they’ve been practically living on top of each other 90% of the time. So when Ryan and Keltie break up, Spencer should have seen it coming.
Maybe he did.
Maybe the whole denial thing is just another aspect of life that he and Ryan have perfected together.
Keltie was lovely. A perfect picture of everything Spencer has known Ryan to think he wanted since he discovered that girls existed as some kind of strange, pretty creatures whose hair he really wanted to touch. Ryan has never owned up to it, but Spencer is pretty sure he still keeps the checklist they made when they were twelve and thirteen scotch taped into one of his journals. “The Perfect Girl,” the list was called (or really, lists, because there had been one for each of them), and they had spent hours lying on the grass in Spencer’s back yard, adding important character traits. Some of them had fallen away when they got a little older (Spencer doesn’t consider it to be crucial that his future wife is shorter than 5’2 any longer; growth spurts happened. He’s very happy about that.), but most of them remained.
Blonde
Cute
Skinny
Hot legs
Cheerleader
Likes music
Wears lots of skirts
Long hair
Not clingy
Nice
Those had been in the top ten on Ryan’s list.
In retrospective, Spencer thinks it’s kind of surprising that “nice” even made the list. He doesn’t really think Ryan was honestly expecting to get that one. The girls Ryan knew when he was that age (and that he kept going back to, long after that) were not nice. They were young and insecure and often broken, hiding themselves behind attitude and mind games, and later adding makeup, alcohol and sex to the list.
Ryan would put them on pedestals. Wrap himself up in some kind of dark but shimmering fantasy where they were angels without wings and princesses to be freed from towers. He would idolise them and fall to his knees. Lift them up while somewhere at the back of his mind, there would be a voice telling him to push down instead.
They fell. One by one.
No one is a saint at fifteen.
Keltie had looked like more of the same. Spencer had barely even listened to a word she said when Ryan first brought her over to meet the gang. Spencer had two files for any girl Ryan liked by then: “scene queen” and “cosmo girl.” They came packaged in different colours, had different names for their demons, but really, when it came down to it, they were the same kind of co-dependent, messy jumbled balls of fears and hopes and twisted expectations.
Possibly the scene queens were a bit smarter. At least they knew that they were fucked up as hell.
Keltie was definitely a cosmo girl, which was one of the main reasons why Spencer kept his distance for so long. She was too shiny on the surface. To wrapped up in pink, brainwashing ribbons that told her to always please the world around her. To show affection to win affection. To love in order to be loved. She threw her tantrums and demanded respect just like the girls before her had, but since everything but her mouth screamed something completely different (Love me. Want me. Need me.), Spencer was not surprised that Ryan didn’t pay much attention to it.
A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.
Keltie had been the owner of a whole fucking hardware store.
Still, Spencer had hoped it would work this time, when the months started to turn into years and Ryan smiled more than he had before her. His moods turned lighter, his clothes more comfortable and his hair loose and curly, like he didn’t need to control every single aspect of his life anymore to stop himself from crumbling. Maybe that’s when Spencer had closed his eyes and decided not to look any further; he doesn’t really know when he went from hope to genuine belief.
They went on and off a lot. Even that was easy-going.
The kind of fake easy-going-but-really-falling-apart cosmo girl specialty.
If I run, will you chase me?
Ryan did. Spencer just isn’t sure he really cared about actually catching Keltie most of the time.
Also, she usually came back on her own.
It fell down in the end. Spencer doesn’t understand why. Like, he understands every one of the links that make up the chain, but when he puts them together, he still doesn’t get why it wouldn’t just work anyway.
It wasn't like there hadn’t been cheating before. Ryan didn’t even try to hide the fact that he and Keltie had some kind of unspoken don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy whenever the band was out on tour.
Maybe it was the “tell” part that fucked up the agreement.
Because there is just no way in hell that someone as meticulous as Ryan Ross would get caught cheating through something as cheesy as a text message unless he’d deliberately planned it that way.
The thoughts won’t leave him alone, so in the end, Spencer just asks. It’s one night at Brendon’s house, when they’re both getting ready for bed.
“Who was the text from?”
He doesn’t need to be more specific than that for Ryan to get it. It’s definitely one of the perks of having known someone all your life.
“Brendon,” Ryan admits, sitting down on Spencer’s air mattress, waiting for a reaction.
Spencer blinks. “Why?”
“I needed something good,” Ryan says. “Something strong enough. It had to be someone she knew I loved more than her. And someone who loved me enough to do it.”
“You could have asked me.”
It just slips out. Spencer mentally kicks himself.
Ryan reaches out to pull him down on the temporary bed, keeps nudging and wiggling until they’re stretched out on the blue sheets, limbs tangled and breathing perfectly synchronised.
“I wasn’t sure if you would have done it,” Ryan says. “Haley, she’s different. I don’t think she’d leave.”
“She would if I asked her. Not the way you did, but if I really asked, she would.”
“I know,” Ryan says, weaving his fingers with Spencer’s over Spencer’s hip. “That’s what makes her special, I think.”
“Yeah,” Spencer says, turning his head and smiling into Ryan’s hair. “It is.”
They fall asleep like that. Brendon wakes them in the morning, climbing all over them and inserting himself into the middle.
“I told him,” Ryan mumbles sleepily, wrapping his arms tightly around Brendon’s chest and curling up behind him.
“Good,” Brendon replies with a yawn, turning his head to meet Ryan’s mouth for a soft, simple kiss. “Did you tell him you love him too?”
“He didn’t need to,” Spencer says, snuggling into them as well, one leg finding its way between Brendon’s, his foot hooking itself securely around Ryan’s calf. “That part, I already knew.”
Liked it? There's more fic right here.