Castle Under Siege
Title: Castle Under Siege
Author: “faerie_lullaby"
Bandom: Panic! At The Disco/The Young Veins
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1936
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: When Ryan shows up at Brendon's, he's expecting a different reaction from Ryan than what he gets.
Author’s Notes: This went in a completely different direction than I wanted. There was going to be angst and they were going to have words, okay, and then Brendon was like, psh, no, we’re not. Written for rydenrevival.
The clock is ticking past midnight when the doorbell rings. Down in the studio, Brendon almost doesn’t hear it, but he definitely hears the dogs barking, their claws clicking on the floor above his head as they race through the house. With a sigh, he slides the headphones off from where they hang around his neck and sets them down on the table.
Penny Lane is at the door to the studio, quivering in anticipation, and she bounds off down the hall, looking back once as if to make sure Brendon is following her.
He flips on the outside light when he reaches the front door, and looks out through the peep hole. Ryan is standing on his stairs, staring around at his front lawn. Huffing softly, he unlocks the door and pulls it open, watching as Ryan turns to face him.
“Hey, Ross,” he says, lounging against the door frame. Ryan doesn’t say anything, just makes a face at him and pushes past Brendon into the house, making for the kitchen. Brendon rolls his eyes but closes the door behind himself and follows the other into the kitchen.
Ryan’s raiding his fridge, predictably, tossing things onto the counter.
“I take it you’re here because you listened to the album?” Ryan gives him a vague noise, and Brendon still knows him enough to differentiate his noises. “And now you’re here to tell me what you think?” Had this been like old days, Brendon would’ve goaded the answer out of the other man, teased him a little. Those days were long past, though, so he waited patiently.
Eventually, once Ryan had concocted what looked like a sandwich made of everything in Brendon’s fridge and took a seat at the table, his patience starts to fade. He fidgets in his seat as Ryan takes a huge bite out of his sandwich, then laughs as half the fillings fall out onto the plate.
They’ve come a long way, the two of them. Ryan gives him a mock-glare when six months ago he would’ve bitched Brendon out.
“I listened to the album.” He says it with a mouth full of sandwich, but Brendon still knows enough Ryan-speak to understand him. He waits for more, but Ryan seems to be done talking and content with finishing his sandwich.
Brendon sighs and sinks lower into his chair, sprawling his legs out under the table as he watches Ryan eat.
It takes him awhile; most of it is still sitting on the plate so Ryan has to finish that as well, tearing up the meats, licking the sauces off his fingertips until the plate has been cleared completely. He pushes the plate away from him and Brendon thinks that now they’ll be able to talk, but then Ryan is standing and yawning, arms stretching to the ceiling.
“I’m beat,” he says, turning to leave the kitchen. “I’m gonna crash, kay?” He disappears up the stairs, and once he hears the door upstairs shut, he thunks his head down onto the table and sighs. Bed time for him, too, he supposes, and he gets up, shutting off the lights and making sure the dogs are let out one last time, checking the locks.
His bed is delightfully cool when he slips between the sheets, his room nice and dark and he slips off faster than he’d thought he would, body sinking into the mattress.
He wakes up briefly what seems moments later to Ryan crawling in next to him, letting in cool air until he curls up against him, and Brendon drifts off once more.
When he wakes for the second time, daylight is streaming in through curtains that Brendon was sure he had closed when he went to bed. The second thing that registers is Ryan still curled up against his side, one long leg thrown over his hips, face buried in his neck.
It’s nice, he thinks; they haven’t been this touchy with each other in a long time, and Brendon still thrives on touch, and it nearly puts him back to sleep, until Ryan shifts alongside him and murmurs something unintelligible before waking up. Brendon can feel Ryan’s eyelashes against the skin of his neck as his eyes open and he tenses up slightly until Ryan moves over a bit and leans up onto his elbow. He’s glaring lightly, and Brendon remembers that Ryan is a bitch before he’s been caffeinated.
He sighs, fully expecting to have to get up and make Ryan a cup of coffee, but Ryan tugs him back down onto the bed.
“Seriously, ‘I want you to catch me like a cold’? Those are your stunning lyrics?” And okay, they’re getting into this now? At ass o’clock-okay, noon, whatever.
“Spencer liked it,” he replies. “And so did Pete, so your logic is invalid here. Also, you’re not in this band anymore, so I’m in charge of the lyrics.” As soon as he says it, he regrets it. Ryan’s face falls fractionally, but it’s enough for Brendon to catch and leans up and forward, throwing an arm tentatively around his shoulder. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it, you know that.”
He does feel bad; the sentiment is one he’s felt but never said out loud, especially where Ryan could hear or read it.
“No, I know. Gotta let out, right?” Brendon smiles into Ryan’s neck and hums the rest of the line into his skin, chuckling when Ryan squirms in his arms.
“So is that all you came here to do? Raid my fridge, criticize my lyrics and fall into bed with me? Not exactly in that order?” He leans away from Ryan and watches Ryan’s eyes dart down to his mouth, then back up to his eyes.
“I, uh, didn’t really plan it? I just drove down on a sort of whim, I guess?”Brendon raises an eyebrow at him, and Ryan smiles sheepishly, ducking his head to stare intently at the blankets.
“C’mon. Breakfast. I’ll even make you waffles.” That gets almost a full smile out of him, and gets him out of the bed to follow him downstairs.
*
The rest of the day passes fairly quickly, and he’s a little surprised that they haven’t broken out into any fights, mostly tiny squabbles over what to eat for lunch, or for the few hours they jammed, telling him his voice sounded like a toad.
(Brendon had jumped him then, after setting aside his guitar. Resting most of his weight on Ryan’s thighs, he had dug his fingers into the others’ ribs, tickling him mercilessly until he’d begged breathlessly to be let go. Brendon had, but not before getting in a vicious pinch to the back of Ryan’s knee.)
Now they’re back to where they started, after midnight and curled up on the couch, watching some movie on TV Ryan had said they “had to watch, it’ll change your life, I swear!”. Mostly, Brendon’s bored out of his skull, watching Ryan stare intently at the screen.
Bed time comes soon after the movie is over, and Brendon`s not shocked when Ryan follows him into his room and crawls under the blankets with him.
It feels like old times again, back before they got famous, when Brendon was living on his own, in a small, dingy apartment, and Ryan needed to get away from his father.
Three days pass like that, three days of movies and cigarettes during the day and deep, easy sleep during the night. Brendon still doesn’t know why Ryan’s here in his house, though, and every time he asks, Ryan purses his lips and gives him a noncommittal noise.
Brendon gives up after a few times, figuring Ryan will tell him sooner or later, in his weird, cryptic way.
The day the album comes out dawns, and Brendon all of a sudden feels butterflies in his belly, despite the album having been streamed on Facebook for the past few weeks. He wakes up jittery, and his fidgeting manages to wake Ryan, who simply rolls over and throws a leg over his hips and an arm over his chest.
“Go back t’sleep. Still early.” he mumbles, before dropping back off. Brendon sighs and relaxes into Ryan’s hold, blinking once, twice and then he’s asleep once more.
He doesn’t actually manage to sleep much longer than a couple hours, but his phone is already ringing in his ear. He picks up as Ryan grumbles, and smiles when Spencer’s voice comes over the line, excited but with a thread of nervousness in it.
Brendon chatters with him for a few minutes until he hears the dogs whining to be let out. He hangs up after promising to meet Spencer for dinner later, then rolls over to face Ryan, whose eyes are still closed, but he’s clearly awake.
“You planning on telling me at any point in time why you’re here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you know I love having you here,” Ryan snorts into the pillows and cracks open one eye, but one corner of his mouth is lifting up in amusement, so Brendon very much doubts that Ryan believes him, but it’s true. He’s very much enjoyed having someone else in the house with him, not just the dogs.
“Can’t I just be here because I missed you and not because you I have ulterior motives?” he asks defensively.
“Well, are you here because you actually missed me? Or do you have ulterior motives?” Brendon leans up onto his elbow, hovering over Ryan, dark eyes teasingly intent on Ryan’s face.
He watches Ryan swallow, throat working visibly as he does, and Brendon waits.
“Yes,” he says, voice dry and even. “Yes, I’m here to take your music, and it will be reprogrammed with hidden messages, telling the fans to go and spend money on things they don’t need.”
Brendon frowns, then raises an eyebrow at the other. “You’ve been watching Josie and The Pussycats, haven’t you?” he asks, snickering.
“I really dig Du Jour.” He says it so seriously, and Brendon holds it in for a second before he laughs, ducking his head as he does. When he looks up, Ryan is staring at him, a small smile on his face for the briefest of moments before he starts leaning up into Brendon’s space. Brendon holds his breath, his heart thumping wildly as Ryan gets closer.
“I really did miss you, you know,” he murmurs just before he presses his mouth to Brendon’s, kissing him softly, mouth moving slowly against his until Brendon parts his lips and lets Ryan in.
His mind is racing, one thought jumping to the next until he can’t think anymore, doesn’t register anything but the long-forgotten feeling of Ryan’s mouth on his, slightly sleep-sour, but warm and wet. He’s older now, and more experienced, but Ryan always managed to make him tremble and feel like a teenager.
When they finally pull apart, Brendon’s head is foggy and he has to blink a few times to focus. Ryan is still in his space, looking just as thrown as Brendon feels and it makes him smile.
“I regret letting you go,” Ryan whispers, and Brendon can feel his heart stop, body stilling.
‘You never should’ve,’ he thinks, but he can’t bring himself to say that. “I will come back to life, but only for you,” he says instead, and the smile that breaks out on Ryan’s face is breathtaking. He leans in once more and kisses his smile and Ryan lets him, his body relaxing back into the bed, and Brendon follows him down, like he always did, and always will.
Author: “faerie_lullaby"
Bandom: Panic! At The Disco/The Young Veins
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1936
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: When Ryan shows up at Brendon's, he's expecting a different reaction from Ryan than what he gets.
Author’s Notes: This went in a completely different direction than I wanted. There was going to be angst and they were going to have words, okay, and then Brendon was like, psh, no, we’re not. Written for rydenrevival.
The clock is ticking past midnight when the doorbell rings. Down in the studio, Brendon almost doesn’t hear it, but he definitely hears the dogs barking, their claws clicking on the floor above his head as they race through the house. With a sigh, he slides the headphones off from where they hang around his neck and sets them down on the table.
Penny Lane is at the door to the studio, quivering in anticipation, and she bounds off down the hall, looking back once as if to make sure Brendon is following her.
He flips on the outside light when he reaches the front door, and looks out through the peep hole. Ryan is standing on his stairs, staring around at his front lawn. Huffing softly, he unlocks the door and pulls it open, watching as Ryan turns to face him.
“Hey, Ross,” he says, lounging against the door frame. Ryan doesn’t say anything, just makes a face at him and pushes past Brendon into the house, making for the kitchen. Brendon rolls his eyes but closes the door behind himself and follows the other into the kitchen.
Ryan’s raiding his fridge, predictably, tossing things onto the counter.
“I take it you’re here because you listened to the album?” Ryan gives him a vague noise, and Brendon still knows him enough to differentiate his noises. “And now you’re here to tell me what you think?” Had this been like old days, Brendon would’ve goaded the answer out of the other man, teased him a little. Those days were long past, though, so he waited patiently.
Eventually, once Ryan had concocted what looked like a sandwich made of everything in Brendon’s fridge and took a seat at the table, his patience starts to fade. He fidgets in his seat as Ryan takes a huge bite out of his sandwich, then laughs as half the fillings fall out onto the plate.
They’ve come a long way, the two of them. Ryan gives him a mock-glare when six months ago he would’ve bitched Brendon out.
“I listened to the album.” He says it with a mouth full of sandwich, but Brendon still knows enough Ryan-speak to understand him. He waits for more, but Ryan seems to be done talking and content with finishing his sandwich.
Brendon sighs and sinks lower into his chair, sprawling his legs out under the table as he watches Ryan eat.
It takes him awhile; most of it is still sitting on the plate so Ryan has to finish that as well, tearing up the meats, licking the sauces off his fingertips until the plate has been cleared completely. He pushes the plate away from him and Brendon thinks that now they’ll be able to talk, but then Ryan is standing and yawning, arms stretching to the ceiling.
“I’m beat,” he says, turning to leave the kitchen. “I’m gonna crash, kay?” He disappears up the stairs, and once he hears the door upstairs shut, he thunks his head down onto the table and sighs. Bed time for him, too, he supposes, and he gets up, shutting off the lights and making sure the dogs are let out one last time, checking the locks.
His bed is delightfully cool when he slips between the sheets, his room nice and dark and he slips off faster than he’d thought he would, body sinking into the mattress.
He wakes up briefly what seems moments later to Ryan crawling in next to him, letting in cool air until he curls up against him, and Brendon drifts off once more.
When he wakes for the second time, daylight is streaming in through curtains that Brendon was sure he had closed when he went to bed. The second thing that registers is Ryan still curled up against his side, one long leg thrown over his hips, face buried in his neck.
It’s nice, he thinks; they haven’t been this touchy with each other in a long time, and Brendon still thrives on touch, and it nearly puts him back to sleep, until Ryan shifts alongside him and murmurs something unintelligible before waking up. Brendon can feel Ryan’s eyelashes against the skin of his neck as his eyes open and he tenses up slightly until Ryan moves over a bit and leans up onto his elbow. He’s glaring lightly, and Brendon remembers that Ryan is a bitch before he’s been caffeinated.
He sighs, fully expecting to have to get up and make Ryan a cup of coffee, but Ryan tugs him back down onto the bed.
“Seriously, ‘I want you to catch me like a cold’? Those are your stunning lyrics?” And okay, they’re getting into this now? At ass o’clock-okay, noon, whatever.
“Spencer liked it,” he replies. “And so did Pete, so your logic is invalid here. Also, you’re not in this band anymore, so I’m in charge of the lyrics.” As soon as he says it, he regrets it. Ryan’s face falls fractionally, but it’s enough for Brendon to catch and leans up and forward, throwing an arm tentatively around his shoulder. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it, you know that.”
He does feel bad; the sentiment is one he’s felt but never said out loud, especially where Ryan could hear or read it.
“No, I know. Gotta let out, right?” Brendon smiles into Ryan’s neck and hums the rest of the line into his skin, chuckling when Ryan squirms in his arms.
“So is that all you came here to do? Raid my fridge, criticize my lyrics and fall into bed with me? Not exactly in that order?” He leans away from Ryan and watches Ryan’s eyes dart down to his mouth, then back up to his eyes.
“I, uh, didn’t really plan it? I just drove down on a sort of whim, I guess?”Brendon raises an eyebrow at him, and Ryan smiles sheepishly, ducking his head to stare intently at the blankets.
“C’mon. Breakfast. I’ll even make you waffles.” That gets almost a full smile out of him, and gets him out of the bed to follow him downstairs.
*
The rest of the day passes fairly quickly, and he’s a little surprised that they haven’t broken out into any fights, mostly tiny squabbles over what to eat for lunch, or for the few hours they jammed, telling him his voice sounded like a toad.
(Brendon had jumped him then, after setting aside his guitar. Resting most of his weight on Ryan’s thighs, he had dug his fingers into the others’ ribs, tickling him mercilessly until he’d begged breathlessly to be let go. Brendon had, but not before getting in a vicious pinch to the back of Ryan’s knee.)
Now they’re back to where they started, after midnight and curled up on the couch, watching some movie on TV Ryan had said they “had to watch, it’ll change your life, I swear!”. Mostly, Brendon’s bored out of his skull, watching Ryan stare intently at the screen.
Bed time comes soon after the movie is over, and Brendon`s not shocked when Ryan follows him into his room and crawls under the blankets with him.
It feels like old times again, back before they got famous, when Brendon was living on his own, in a small, dingy apartment, and Ryan needed to get away from his father.
Three days pass like that, three days of movies and cigarettes during the day and deep, easy sleep during the night. Brendon still doesn’t know why Ryan’s here in his house, though, and every time he asks, Ryan purses his lips and gives him a noncommittal noise.
Brendon gives up after a few times, figuring Ryan will tell him sooner or later, in his weird, cryptic way.
The day the album comes out dawns, and Brendon all of a sudden feels butterflies in his belly, despite the album having been streamed on Facebook for the past few weeks. He wakes up jittery, and his fidgeting manages to wake Ryan, who simply rolls over and throws a leg over his hips and an arm over his chest.
“Go back t’sleep. Still early.” he mumbles, before dropping back off. Brendon sighs and relaxes into Ryan’s hold, blinking once, twice and then he’s asleep once more.
He doesn’t actually manage to sleep much longer than a couple hours, but his phone is already ringing in his ear. He picks up as Ryan grumbles, and smiles when Spencer’s voice comes over the line, excited but with a thread of nervousness in it.
Brendon chatters with him for a few minutes until he hears the dogs whining to be let out. He hangs up after promising to meet Spencer for dinner later, then rolls over to face Ryan, whose eyes are still closed, but he’s clearly awake.
“You planning on telling me at any point in time why you’re here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you know I love having you here,” Ryan snorts into the pillows and cracks open one eye, but one corner of his mouth is lifting up in amusement, so Brendon very much doubts that Ryan believes him, but it’s true. He’s very much enjoyed having someone else in the house with him, not just the dogs.
“Can’t I just be here because I missed you and not because you I have ulterior motives?” he asks defensively.
“Well, are you here because you actually missed me? Or do you have ulterior motives?” Brendon leans up onto his elbow, hovering over Ryan, dark eyes teasingly intent on Ryan’s face.
He watches Ryan swallow, throat working visibly as he does, and Brendon waits.
“Yes,” he says, voice dry and even. “Yes, I’m here to take your music, and it will be reprogrammed with hidden messages, telling the fans to go and spend money on things they don’t need.”
Brendon frowns, then raises an eyebrow at the other. “You’ve been watching Josie and The Pussycats, haven’t you?” he asks, snickering.
“I really dig Du Jour.” He says it so seriously, and Brendon holds it in for a second before he laughs, ducking his head as he does. When he looks up, Ryan is staring at him, a small smile on his face for the briefest of moments before he starts leaning up into Brendon’s space. Brendon holds his breath, his heart thumping wildly as Ryan gets closer.
“I really did miss you, you know,” he murmurs just before he presses his mouth to Brendon’s, kissing him softly, mouth moving slowly against his until Brendon parts his lips and lets Ryan in.
His mind is racing, one thought jumping to the next until he can’t think anymore, doesn’t register anything but the long-forgotten feeling of Ryan’s mouth on his, slightly sleep-sour, but warm and wet. He’s older now, and more experienced, but Ryan always managed to make him tremble and feel like a teenager.
When they finally pull apart, Brendon’s head is foggy and he has to blink a few times to focus. Ryan is still in his space, looking just as thrown as Brendon feels and it makes him smile.
“I regret letting you go,” Ryan whispers, and Brendon can feel his heart stop, body stilling.
‘You never should’ve,’ he thinks, but he can’t bring himself to say that. “I will come back to life, but only for you,” he says instead, and the smile that breaks out on Ryan’s face is breathtaking. He leans in once more and kisses his smile and Ryan lets him, his body relaxing back into the bed, and Brendon follows him down, like he always did, and always will.