(no subject)
Title: The One Where Ryan Ross Has A Breakdown (And Brendon Wears A Gold Bikini)
Author: Star; ryanbrendonlove
Rating: R
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, maybe some Spencer/Jon.
POV: 3rd
Summary: “William, I need to see your ass,” Ryan said.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the boys, because if I did pictures of the events in this story would be available to the world. And I think we’d remember them.
Author Notes: This is complete crack, inspired by an AIM conversation I had with Jamie; stereotypeloser (speaking of which, bb, I’m not dead ;D I wanted to show this to you before I posted but I haven’t been online for so long), so all blame should be placed on him ;D
Ryan was thinking. This wasn’t much of a change, Ryan was always thinking, but he wasn’t always thinking about the merits of dating his band mates. He had been started off in that interview earlier on; the girl asked him which of the guys he’d rather date. And really, Ryan thought, what a stupid fucking question.
But the fact remained that it had stumped him. Who would Ryan want to date? Because Jon; well, Jon was Jon. And he was happy, and he made the world happy and Ryan’s life would be complete if he could just snuggle with Jon until the end of time.
And then there was Spencer, of course, Ryan’s best friend for so long. And Ryan would be happy in a relationship with Spencer, he guessed. They were already like an old married couple, so it wasn’t much of a stretch.
But Brendon threw a spanner in the works. Ryan and Brendon just should never have worked; they were polar opposites. And yet somehow, RyanandBrendon, BrendonandRyan. They were best friends; soul mates, some might say. Plus, Brendon had the hottest ass Ryan had ever seen.
Ryan paused in his thoughts and pulled a face. Did he really just think that Brendon had a nice ass? Because Ryan was straight, obviously. And besides, Brendon had a bubble-butt. Ryan liked them skinny, like William Beckett.
Ryan shook his head again. He was not thinking about which of his friends had the nicest ass. He’d never even looked at them in that way, he told himself. And really, this is all the fault of that stupid fucking question.
*
Next morning, after a fitful night’s sleep filled with images of Brendon and William fighting to prove to a terrified Ryan who was hottest, Ryan was murmuring thoughts of killing interviewers into his cup of coffee. He jumped when Brendon slammed through the door shouting “good morning” loud enough to wake the entire venue and started to rootle around in the cupboard for cereal. And this was the moment that Ryan realised he was going mad. Brendon Urie, Brendon, was waving his bubble-butt around as he searched for the box, and Ryan was liking it. Liking it a bit too much, he thought to himself. He excused himself, blushing slightly, and ran to his bunk. He had some serious thinking to do.
*
Later that day, Ryan had made an important discovery. He’d found out that God (or whatever higher being was up there) really held a grudge against him. Brendon had come bouncing through the bus, grabbing Ryan on the way, babbling about finding something nice to wear for the meet and greet. He then proceeded to try on everything he owned, bending all over the place asking for Ryan’s opinions, and asking if things made his butt look big.
Ryan really hated his life.
*
William Beckett’s afternoon nap was stopped with a bang. Rather, several bangs. He flung open the bus door in what he hoped was a threatening manner, a promise to painfully kill the intruder right on his lips, and came face to face with a distraught looking Ryan Ross.
“William, I need to see your ass,” Ryan said. William closed his eyes and shook his head. He had clearly been slipped some drugs by one of his evil band mates. He cracked open one eye, and Ryan was still standing there pouting.
“You need to what?” William demanded.
“Your ass. I need to see it, please!” Ryan grabbed William’s arms and span him round before he had a chance to react. “Now bend over,” Ryan said. William bent over slowly, praying this was all a dream. Ryan made a noise that sounded something like a cat in a washing machine, and shot back to the Panic bus.
Willam went back to his nap, hoping that sanity would return when he woke up later.
*
“Spencer! Spencer, oh my god,” Ryan shouted through the bus. He found the drummer in the back room, with his head on Jon’s stomach. “Spencer,” he announced gravely, “Spencer, my life is over. I like big butts.” Spencer and Jon proceeded to howl with laughter. “Oh my god, it isn’t funny guys! I like Brendon’s butt!” Spencer fell off the couch, and honestly looked like he was going to explode. Ryan huffed, and stormed out of the room, thinking of silent and undetectable murder methods.
*
Life was getting worse, Ryan though. Last night he could barely sleep. He finally nodded off at about 3am, to a dream where he was all ‘blinged-up’ and performing “Baby Got Back” to a crowd of bemused onlookers. He couldn’t understand why everyone was looking to his left, rather than pointing and laughing at him, until he turned his head a little. Brendon was doing a rather suggestive dance dressed in what could only be described as a string bikini. It was gold.
Ryan contemplated just how painful it would be to gouge out his own eyes with a spoon.
*
“Spencer, it’s getting worse. Last night Brendon was shaking his ass in a gold bikini. I think my life is over,”
Spencer once again just laughed and laughed. Ryan placated himself with ideas of pulling Spencer’s lungs out slowly with a coat hanger. Violence seemed to be the answer these days.
*
Ryan was so pleased when hotel night finally came. He might have a chance of some sleep now, he thought. Ryan didn’t expect Spencer and Jon’s nefarious plan.
When he threw open the door to his room, he couldn’t believe his eyes. There was a person on his bed. More specifically, there was a Brendon on his bed. A Brendon wearing a smirk and a skimpy gold bikini. He beckoned Ryan over to the bed, and he fell onto the mattress gladly.
“I always knew you liked my ass, Ryan, you were just in denial,”
The last coherent thought that ran through Ryan’s head that night was what a brilliantly stupid fucking question that had turned out to be.
Author: Star; ryanbrendonlove
Rating: R
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, maybe some Spencer/Jon.
POV: 3rd
Summary: “William, I need to see your ass,” Ryan said.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the boys, because if I did pictures of the events in this story would be available to the world. And I think we’d remember them.
Author Notes: This is complete crack, inspired by an AIM conversation I had with Jamie; stereotypeloser (speaking of which, bb, I’m not dead ;D I wanted to show this to you before I posted but I haven’t been online for so long), so all blame should be placed on him ;D
Ryan was thinking. This wasn’t much of a change, Ryan was always thinking, but he wasn’t always thinking about the merits of dating his band mates. He had been started off in that interview earlier on; the girl asked him which of the guys he’d rather date. And really, Ryan thought, what a stupid fucking question.
But the fact remained that it had stumped him. Who would Ryan want to date? Because Jon; well, Jon was Jon. And he was happy, and he made the world happy and Ryan’s life would be complete if he could just snuggle with Jon until the end of time.
And then there was Spencer, of course, Ryan’s best friend for so long. And Ryan would be happy in a relationship with Spencer, he guessed. They were already like an old married couple, so it wasn’t much of a stretch.
But Brendon threw a spanner in the works. Ryan and Brendon just should never have worked; they were polar opposites. And yet somehow, RyanandBrendon, BrendonandRyan. They were best friends; soul mates, some might say. Plus, Brendon had the hottest ass Ryan had ever seen.
Ryan paused in his thoughts and pulled a face. Did he really just think that Brendon had a nice ass? Because Ryan was straight, obviously. And besides, Brendon had a bubble-butt. Ryan liked them skinny, like William Beckett.
Ryan shook his head again. He was not thinking about which of his friends had the nicest ass. He’d never even looked at them in that way, he told himself. And really, this is all the fault of that stupid fucking question.
*
Next morning, after a fitful night’s sleep filled with images of Brendon and William fighting to prove to a terrified Ryan who was hottest, Ryan was murmuring thoughts of killing interviewers into his cup of coffee. He jumped when Brendon slammed through the door shouting “good morning” loud enough to wake the entire venue and started to rootle around in the cupboard for cereal. And this was the moment that Ryan realised he was going mad. Brendon Urie, Brendon, was waving his bubble-butt around as he searched for the box, and Ryan was liking it. Liking it a bit too much, he thought to himself. He excused himself, blushing slightly, and ran to his bunk. He had some serious thinking to do.
*
Later that day, Ryan had made an important discovery. He’d found out that God (or whatever higher being was up there) really held a grudge against him. Brendon had come bouncing through the bus, grabbing Ryan on the way, babbling about finding something nice to wear for the meet and greet. He then proceeded to try on everything he owned, bending all over the place asking for Ryan’s opinions, and asking if things made his butt look big.
Ryan really hated his life.
*
William Beckett’s afternoon nap was stopped with a bang. Rather, several bangs. He flung open the bus door in what he hoped was a threatening manner, a promise to painfully kill the intruder right on his lips, and came face to face with a distraught looking Ryan Ross.
“William, I need to see your ass,” Ryan said. William closed his eyes and shook his head. He had clearly been slipped some drugs by one of his evil band mates. He cracked open one eye, and Ryan was still standing there pouting.
“You need to what?” William demanded.
“Your ass. I need to see it, please!” Ryan grabbed William’s arms and span him round before he had a chance to react. “Now bend over,” Ryan said. William bent over slowly, praying this was all a dream. Ryan made a noise that sounded something like a cat in a washing machine, and shot back to the Panic bus.
Willam went back to his nap, hoping that sanity would return when he woke up later.
*
“Spencer! Spencer, oh my god,” Ryan shouted through the bus. He found the drummer in the back room, with his head on Jon’s stomach. “Spencer,” he announced gravely, “Spencer, my life is over. I like big butts.” Spencer and Jon proceeded to howl with laughter. “Oh my god, it isn’t funny guys! I like Brendon’s butt!” Spencer fell off the couch, and honestly looked like he was going to explode. Ryan huffed, and stormed out of the room, thinking of silent and undetectable murder methods.
*
Life was getting worse, Ryan though. Last night he could barely sleep. He finally nodded off at about 3am, to a dream where he was all ‘blinged-up’ and performing “Baby Got Back” to a crowd of bemused onlookers. He couldn’t understand why everyone was looking to his left, rather than pointing and laughing at him, until he turned his head a little. Brendon was doing a rather suggestive dance dressed in what could only be described as a string bikini. It was gold.
Ryan contemplated just how painful it would be to gouge out his own eyes with a spoon.
*
“Spencer, it’s getting worse. Last night Brendon was shaking his ass in a gold bikini. I think my life is over,”
Spencer once again just laughed and laughed. Ryan placated himself with ideas of pulling Spencer’s lungs out slowly with a coat hanger. Violence seemed to be the answer these days.
*
Ryan was so pleased when hotel night finally came. He might have a chance of some sleep now, he thought. Ryan didn’t expect Spencer and Jon’s nefarious plan.
When he threw open the door to his room, he couldn’t believe his eyes. There was a person on his bed. More specifically, there was a Brendon on his bed. A Brendon wearing a smirk and a skimpy gold bikini. He beckoned Ryan over to the bed, and he fell onto the mattress gladly.
“I always knew you liked my ass, Ryan, you were just in denial,”
The last coherent thought that ran through Ryan’s head that night was what a brilliantly stupid fucking question that had turned out to be.