the file name on this one is "bdencatears"
Warning: Contains mentions of blood in a context that could be triggery for self-harm.
Author's note: I got almost 2K into this before I abruptly ran out of story. The premise: Brendon wakes up a cat boy, and does not enjoy the experience.
"Goddammit, Ross, I told you, that hurts," Brendon yelled, shoving his guitar off his lap and standing up.
He was vibrating more than usual, fists clenched at his sides, and his eyes were a little too bright. Ryan paused in the act of handing Jon a cup of coffee and gave Brendon an incredulous look.
"What? Are you seriously upset because I didn't get you coffee?" Ryan sounded genuinely confused. "And didn't I tell you to take my hat off, like, an hour ago?"
"No, asshole, I'm upset because you keep stepping on my fucking tail," Brendon snarled, and before any of them could say anything, he stomped off into the bunk area and slammed the door shut behind him, narrowly missing the tail in question.
Ryan and Jon turned to look at Spencer. Spencer pushed his fingertips against his eyes briefly and took a slow breath. They had been on the road for a while, cooped up on the bus, driving through one rainstorm after another. Brendon was sort of due for a freak-out of some kind. He didn't usually employ costumes for his freak-outs, but maybe that was just because he hadn't thought of it before.
"I'll go," Spencer said, waving Jon back when he started to edge forward. "You guys keep working on that melody."
Spencer stood up, curled his fingers around the doorknob and twisted once, testing. The catch popped out easily, and he slipped inside. Brendon was sitting on his bunk, breathing hard and clawing at his forearms.
"Brendon, Brendon, stop, what the hell?" Spencer knelt down in front of Brendon and grabbed his hands.
Brendon's arms were scratched and bloody, as if he had been literally clawing at them. Spencer took a deep breath, trying to ignore the smell of blood, and held on tighter.
"Let go, let go, let go," Brendon muttered, trying to yank his hands away.
"No," Spencer said, and tightened his grip. "What the fuck is going on, Brendon?"
"I'm having a really sucky dream," Brendon said, yanking harder. "And I would like -" Spencer felt something sharp come to rest against the flesh of his fingers -"to fucking wake up now."
"Sucky how?" The sharp thing dug in and Spencer clenched his teeth but didn't let go.
"I have a tail and Ryan keeps fucking stepping on it even when I told him not to and it hurts and I have ears -"
"We all have ears," Spencer interrupted, fighting the sudden urge to let go and check, just to be absolutely sure.
"I have cat ears," Brendon said, shaking his head violently, so that Ryan's hat fell on the floor.
There were, indeed, two small furry ears poking out of the hair on the top of Brendon's head. They both pointed at Spencer for a moment, then swiveled around and lay down flat against Brendon's skull.
"Holy shit, where did you get those from?" Spencer whispered, thoroughly impressed.
"I didn't get them from anywhere," Brendon said, his voice wobbling a little. "They were just there, when I - let me go, please, I want to wake up now."
"Brendon," Spencer said, softly, as Brendon ducked his head and tried to wriggle further back into the bunk. "Brendon, you aren't asleep."
"I have claws," Brendon said, and the sharp thing bit harder into Spencer's fingers. "I have a tail, and ears, and claws."
"But you were playing your guitar earlier," Spencer said, trying to remember if he had noticed anything weird about Brendon's hands at the time.
"They retract," Brendon whispered. His voice was low and ragged, and when Spencer looked up he saw Brendon's lip was trembling.
Spencer shifted so he was sitting on the floor of the bus and tugged on Brendon until he came out of the bunk and allowed himself to be manhandled into Spencer's lap. After a moment or two of struggling Spencer got him to settle, the length of the tail draped over Brendon's thighs. Spencer put an exploratory hand on it; it was warm, and the fur was soft, like a real cat's fur would be soft. He pressed his fingers down gently and Brendon made a small, irritated noise. The end of the tail curled and tapped the floor several times.
"Okay," Spencer murmured, tapping Brendon's still-clenched hands. "Let me see your fingers."
Brendon opened his hand. His palms and fingers were as much of a bloody mess as his arms. Spencer hissed through his teeth and wiped the worst of it off on his own jeans; he'd figure out something to tell Zack later.
Brendon sniffled and curled closer, and Spencer rubbed his shoulder briefly before pulling the hand up for a better look. Beneath the remaining bloodstains it mostly looked like it was supposed to: knobbly, calloused, a little rough around the knuckles. What didn't belong, however, were the neat slits in the pads of Brendon's fingertips. Spencer squeezed one carefully, and a clear, curved claw emerged.
"Jesus fuck, you have claws," Spencer breathed, lowering both of their hands into his lap.
Spencer stared at the empty bunk for a while, his head full of roaring static. Then something thumped out in the front lounge, reminding him that Jon and Ryan were hovering outside the door, awaiting either an explosion or an explanation.
"I want to wake up now, please," Brendon repeated, and moved as if he were going to get up. Spencer held him tighter, pinning him against his chest until he located his voice.
"Guys," Spencer called out. "Jon, Ryan, get in here right fucking now."
The door slid open a fraction and Jon peered around the edge cautiously before stepping inside. Spencer saw his eyes widen when he noticed the blood and scratches on Brendon's arms, and gave him a look that Spencer hoped conveyed It's okay, he's fine. There was another muffled thump and then Ryan appeared over Jon's shoulder, his expression shifting from frustrated to alarmed when he got a good look at Brendon.
"Brendon has claws," Spencer said, because he didn't know where else to begin.
"Claws," Jon repeated, his voice tilting upwards.
Spencer raised Brendon's hand and squeezed one finger carefully. Brendon shifted uneasily in his lap, and Spencer wondered if it hurt. He rubbed the finger in question gently, in apology.
"The fuck?" Ryan snapped, shoving past Jon and dropping down by Spencer's knee for a better look. "What the hell did you - Jesus Christ, Brendon, ears, too? That is the dumbest -"
"I didn't do it on purpose, jackass," Brendon said, his ears tickling Spencer's nose as they swiveled back and down. "And get the fuck off my tail or I swear to -"
"Woah, they move, too?" Jon said, leaning forward.
Ryan's eyes narrowed in a way that was never a good sign. Brendon growled low in his throat, and Spencer felt ten quite distinctive sharp points pressing against his fingers and his jeans.
"Do it and die, Urie," Spencer said as sharply as he could. "Ryan, get off of Brendon's tail, you're hurting him."
"For fuck's sake, Spencer, it isn't like it's real," Ryan muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
"He can probably still -" Jon began, his tone gentle, and then Brendon wrenched himself free of Spencer and stood up, knocking Ryan onto the floor of the bus.
Jon darted forward - to pick Ryan up or hold him back, Spencer wasn't sure - but before Spencer could get hold of Brendon again, Brendon had yanked his pants and underwear down and spun around so that Spencer got an eyeful of his crotch.
"Nnnnnaugh," Spencer managed, and squeezed his eyes shut.
"Oh my god." Jon sounded like someone had slapped him.
Spencer waited, but Ryan didn't say anything. Spencer shifted a little so that he was (hopefully) no longer directly facing Brendon's dick and opened his eyes carefully. Jon was kneeling on the floor wearing a stunned expression; Ryan was splayed over Jon's knees, his mouth open in surprise. Brendon swung around again, the tail following him in a slow arc, his arms crossed over his chest.
"That's really good work, dude, who did that for you?" Jon sounded impressed.
Looking at Brendon's behind, Spencer could see why. The tail looked like it had always been there, growing out of the base of Brendon's spine. Spencer could even see muscles stretching and flexing as it moved on the floor.
"I would really like to wake up now," Brendon repeated, sounding determined.
Spencer saw the claws emerge, but it was Jon who jumped up and caught Brendon's hands as he started scratching himself. There was a moment of flailing limbs while Brendon tried to wriggle free and Ryan crawled around them to sit next to Spencer.
"Okay, that's enough," Jon said in the tone Spencer had only ever heard him use on people who threw nasty things on stage. "Let's go get you cleaned up and find some bandages."
"I thought I saw some in the cabinet under the sink," Ryan whispered as Jon tugged Brendon's pants up and buttoned them. "Peroxide, too."
Jon made a noise of acknowledgement; after that they sat there in silence until the door clicked shut.
"Motherfucker," Ryan said, and Spencer fought down a hysterical giggle.
"We've been on the road for a month, how the hell did he - " Ryan began, then sighed, rubbing at his face with his hands. "Actually, never mind. What the fuck do we do now?"
"I don't know," Spencer said, flopping backwards and squinting at the ceiling of the bus.
Ryan hmphed softly; Spencer drummed his fingers on the top of his ribs and tried to arrange his thoughts in a logical sequence. He kind of wanted to dig deeper into the "how" aspect of the problem, truth be told. Brendon had never been shy about talking about his tattoos, or showing them off. And he had seemed genuinely upset, not over-acting for effect.
"We'll have to tell Zack," Ryan said, shuffling around again, and Spencer felt a hand settle on his belly. "And Pete."
"I'll let you make that call," Spencer murmured, swatting at Ryan's hand when Ryan squeezed his stomach.
"He's going to want pictures," Ryan said, wrinkling his nose, and Spencer hummed his agreement.
"Interview tomorrow," Spencer said a few minutes later, tucking an arm under his head. "Two, actually - one radio, though."
Ryan groaned and rested his head on Spencer's chest. Spencer unfolded his legs and stretched them one at a time, still running through the schedule in his head. The claws and the ears were easy - it was winter, they'd all be wearing gloves and hats anyway. The biggest problem was probably going to be concealing the tail, which, how had Brendon been doing it all this time?
He was still pondering that when the door opened and Jon came through, tugging Brendon behind him. Brendon was still hunched in on himself and Jon was decidedly more wild-eyed than he had been before.
"Now what?" Ryan snapped as he straightened up.
Brendon didn't say anything, just yanked his arm out of Jon's hand and slammed out into the lounge.
Author's note: I got almost 2K into this before I abruptly ran out of story. The premise: Brendon wakes up a cat boy, and does not enjoy the experience.
"Goddammit, Ross, I told you, that hurts," Brendon yelled, shoving his guitar off his lap and standing up.
He was vibrating more than usual, fists clenched at his sides, and his eyes were a little too bright. Ryan paused in the act of handing Jon a cup of coffee and gave Brendon an incredulous look.
"What? Are you seriously upset because I didn't get you coffee?" Ryan sounded genuinely confused. "And didn't I tell you to take my hat off, like, an hour ago?"
"No, asshole, I'm upset because you keep stepping on my fucking tail," Brendon snarled, and before any of them could say anything, he stomped off into the bunk area and slammed the door shut behind him, narrowly missing the tail in question.
Ryan and Jon turned to look at Spencer. Spencer pushed his fingertips against his eyes briefly and took a slow breath. They had been on the road for a while, cooped up on the bus, driving through one rainstorm after another. Brendon was sort of due for a freak-out of some kind. He didn't usually employ costumes for his freak-outs, but maybe that was just because he hadn't thought of it before.
"I'll go," Spencer said, waving Jon back when he started to edge forward. "You guys keep working on that melody."
Spencer stood up, curled his fingers around the doorknob and twisted once, testing. The catch popped out easily, and he slipped inside. Brendon was sitting on his bunk, breathing hard and clawing at his forearms.
"Brendon, Brendon, stop, what the hell?" Spencer knelt down in front of Brendon and grabbed his hands.
Brendon's arms were scratched and bloody, as if he had been literally clawing at them. Spencer took a deep breath, trying to ignore the smell of blood, and held on tighter.
"Let go, let go, let go," Brendon muttered, trying to yank his hands away.
"No," Spencer said, and tightened his grip. "What the fuck is going on, Brendon?"
"I'm having a really sucky dream," Brendon said, yanking harder. "And I would like -" Spencer felt something sharp come to rest against the flesh of his fingers -"to fucking wake up now."
"Sucky how?" The sharp thing dug in and Spencer clenched his teeth but didn't let go.
"I have a tail and Ryan keeps fucking stepping on it even when I told him not to and it hurts and I have ears -"
"We all have ears," Spencer interrupted, fighting the sudden urge to let go and check, just to be absolutely sure.
"I have cat ears," Brendon said, shaking his head violently, so that Ryan's hat fell on the floor.
There were, indeed, two small furry ears poking out of the hair on the top of Brendon's head. They both pointed at Spencer for a moment, then swiveled around and lay down flat against Brendon's skull.
"Holy shit, where did you get those from?" Spencer whispered, thoroughly impressed.
"I didn't get them from anywhere," Brendon said, his voice wobbling a little. "They were just there, when I - let me go, please, I want to wake up now."
"Brendon," Spencer said, softly, as Brendon ducked his head and tried to wriggle further back into the bunk. "Brendon, you aren't asleep."
"I have claws," Brendon said, and the sharp thing bit harder into Spencer's fingers. "I have a tail, and ears, and claws."
"But you were playing your guitar earlier," Spencer said, trying to remember if he had noticed anything weird about Brendon's hands at the time.
"They retract," Brendon whispered. His voice was low and ragged, and when Spencer looked up he saw Brendon's lip was trembling.
Spencer shifted so he was sitting on the floor of the bus and tugged on Brendon until he came out of the bunk and allowed himself to be manhandled into Spencer's lap. After a moment or two of struggling Spencer got him to settle, the length of the tail draped over Brendon's thighs. Spencer put an exploratory hand on it; it was warm, and the fur was soft, like a real cat's fur would be soft. He pressed his fingers down gently and Brendon made a small, irritated noise. The end of the tail curled and tapped the floor several times.
"Okay," Spencer murmured, tapping Brendon's still-clenched hands. "Let me see your fingers."
Brendon opened his hand. His palms and fingers were as much of a bloody mess as his arms. Spencer hissed through his teeth and wiped the worst of it off on his own jeans; he'd figure out something to tell Zack later.
Brendon sniffled and curled closer, and Spencer rubbed his shoulder briefly before pulling the hand up for a better look. Beneath the remaining bloodstains it mostly looked like it was supposed to: knobbly, calloused, a little rough around the knuckles. What didn't belong, however, were the neat slits in the pads of Brendon's fingertips. Spencer squeezed one carefully, and a clear, curved claw emerged.
"Jesus fuck, you have claws," Spencer breathed, lowering both of their hands into his lap.
Spencer stared at the empty bunk for a while, his head full of roaring static. Then something thumped out in the front lounge, reminding him that Jon and Ryan were hovering outside the door, awaiting either an explosion or an explanation.
"I want to wake up now, please," Brendon repeated, and moved as if he were going to get up. Spencer held him tighter, pinning him against his chest until he located his voice.
"Guys," Spencer called out. "Jon, Ryan, get in here right fucking now."
The door slid open a fraction and Jon peered around the edge cautiously before stepping inside. Spencer saw his eyes widen when he noticed the blood and scratches on Brendon's arms, and gave him a look that Spencer hoped conveyed It's okay, he's fine. There was another muffled thump and then Ryan appeared over Jon's shoulder, his expression shifting from frustrated to alarmed when he got a good look at Brendon.
"Brendon has claws," Spencer said, because he didn't know where else to begin.
"Claws," Jon repeated, his voice tilting upwards.
Spencer raised Brendon's hand and squeezed one finger carefully. Brendon shifted uneasily in his lap, and Spencer wondered if it hurt. He rubbed the finger in question gently, in apology.
"The fuck?" Ryan snapped, shoving past Jon and dropping down by Spencer's knee for a better look. "What the hell did you - Jesus Christ, Brendon, ears, too? That is the dumbest -"
"I didn't do it on purpose, jackass," Brendon said, his ears tickling Spencer's nose as they swiveled back and down. "And get the fuck off my tail or I swear to -"
"Woah, they move, too?" Jon said, leaning forward.
Ryan's eyes narrowed in a way that was never a good sign. Brendon growled low in his throat, and Spencer felt ten quite distinctive sharp points pressing against his fingers and his jeans.
"Do it and die, Urie," Spencer said as sharply as he could. "Ryan, get off of Brendon's tail, you're hurting him."
"For fuck's sake, Spencer, it isn't like it's real," Ryan muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
"He can probably still -" Jon began, his tone gentle, and then Brendon wrenched himself free of Spencer and stood up, knocking Ryan onto the floor of the bus.
Jon darted forward - to pick Ryan up or hold him back, Spencer wasn't sure - but before Spencer could get hold of Brendon again, Brendon had yanked his pants and underwear down and spun around so that Spencer got an eyeful of his crotch.
"Nnnnnaugh," Spencer managed, and squeezed his eyes shut.
"Oh my god." Jon sounded like someone had slapped him.
Spencer waited, but Ryan didn't say anything. Spencer shifted a little so that he was (hopefully) no longer directly facing Brendon's dick and opened his eyes carefully. Jon was kneeling on the floor wearing a stunned expression; Ryan was splayed over Jon's knees, his mouth open in surprise. Brendon swung around again, the tail following him in a slow arc, his arms crossed over his chest.
"That's really good work, dude, who did that for you?" Jon sounded impressed.
Looking at Brendon's behind, Spencer could see why. The tail looked like it had always been there, growing out of the base of Brendon's spine. Spencer could even see muscles stretching and flexing as it moved on the floor.
"I would really like to wake up now," Brendon repeated, sounding determined.
Spencer saw the claws emerge, but it was Jon who jumped up and caught Brendon's hands as he started scratching himself. There was a moment of flailing limbs while Brendon tried to wriggle free and Ryan crawled around them to sit next to Spencer.
"Okay, that's enough," Jon said in the tone Spencer had only ever heard him use on people who threw nasty things on stage. "Let's go get you cleaned up and find some bandages."
"I thought I saw some in the cabinet under the sink," Ryan whispered as Jon tugged Brendon's pants up and buttoned them. "Peroxide, too."
Jon made a noise of acknowledgement; after that they sat there in silence until the door clicked shut.
"Motherfucker," Ryan said, and Spencer fought down a hysterical giggle.
"We've been on the road for a month, how the hell did he - " Ryan began, then sighed, rubbing at his face with his hands. "Actually, never mind. What the fuck do we do now?"
"I don't know," Spencer said, flopping backwards and squinting at the ceiling of the bus.
Ryan hmphed softly; Spencer drummed his fingers on the top of his ribs and tried to arrange his thoughts in a logical sequence. He kind of wanted to dig deeper into the "how" aspect of the problem, truth be told. Brendon had never been shy about talking about his tattoos, or showing them off. And he had seemed genuinely upset, not over-acting for effect.
"We'll have to tell Zack," Ryan said, shuffling around again, and Spencer felt a hand settle on his belly. "And Pete."
"I'll let you make that call," Spencer murmured, swatting at Ryan's hand when Ryan squeezed his stomach.
"He's going to want pictures," Ryan said, wrinkling his nose, and Spencer hummed his agreement.
"Interview tomorrow," Spencer said a few minutes later, tucking an arm under his head. "Two, actually - one radio, though."
Ryan groaned and rested his head on Spencer's chest. Spencer unfolded his legs and stretched them one at a time, still running through the schedule in his head. The claws and the ears were easy - it was winter, they'd all be wearing gloves and hats anyway. The biggest problem was probably going to be concealing the tail, which, how had Brendon been doing it all this time?
He was still pondering that when the door opened and Jon came through, tugging Brendon behind him. Brendon was still hunched in on himself and Jon was decidedly more wild-eyed than he had been before.
"Now what?" Ryan snapped as he straightened up.
Brendon didn't say anything, just yanked his arm out of Jon's hand and slammed out into the lounge.