fic/drabble for maddie (and the birthday boy!)
So alphabetatoast wanted crack!fic with faily boys on safari and ryan naming his shoes (i didn't name them in this fic, but i have a feeling they're something lolarious like elouise and clementine or s/t) and ryan/brendon make up sex and while this isn't ~exactly what she wanted, it is completely indulgent and therefore, in drabble form.
hope this suffices, maddie, bb! :*
brendon urie's safari birthday (or why zack hall rules at life)
ryan/brendon, 1740 words, drabble
"but it's my birthday!" brendon whines and spencer's pants are about to rip, he swears.
"brendon, stop tugging my jeans and get off the floor. you're twenty-two for fuck's sake," spencer commands, signature bitch face intact.
"i don't care how old i am," brendon huffs, "it's my birthday and we're in africa, so what i say goes."
"actually," zack interjects from the jon's couch (he poked ryan awake earlier this morning and now he's claimed it for himself), "what i say goes, considering you guys would all get raped were it not for me."
brendon tilts his head and ponders, "this is true." zack makes a pleased grunt and spencer says, "exactly. now zack, tell brendon that we're not going on a safari."
brendon transforms into a babbling, panicked mess of "butbutbut" before zack cuts him off with a stern, "brendon, we're going on a safari," and spencer just all out gives up on the situation entirely and walks from the room, mumbling.
"OH MY GOD! YES!" brendon cheers and suddenly becomes a projectile of fuzzy hair and grins, landing with a thud on top of zack. "zack hall, you are my hero, holy shit."
"yeah, well," zack says, peeling brendon off of his side with a raised eyebrow. "we're only going because i want to catch a monkey. plus, i'm really bored and it's going to be extremely entertaining watching you try to convince ryan to go."
brendon frowns and says, "oh, fuck. i forgot about that."
zack gives a sympathetic, "yeah" before slapping his knee cheerfully and saying, "well, i'm off to tell eric. good luck, kid."
ryan has to go. it's fucking africa.
----
ryan is laughing and there's really nothing funny about crushing brendon's hopes and dreams.
"i'm not joking," brendon tries quietly, wringing his hands and twisting his fingers.
ryan's laughter fades into a sigh and then a look of disbelief, "no shit?"
"yeah, i- it's my birthday and i really want to go on a safari," brendon states. "it'd be cool. like, to celebrate my birthday over a few beers in the african brush, don't you think?"
ryan blinks and then bursts out laughing again. brendon doesn't see how this is funny because funny and totally fucking awesome are two separate emotions and this is definitely 'totally fucking awesome'.
"what's so funny?" brendon asks, voice sulky and a bit embarrassed, defensive.
"what's so funny is that you actually think that i'm going to pack myself into a jeep, drive out into the middle of the african desert, just to watch a few lions chow down on a decaying zebra. brendon, you and i watch that on the discovery channel every night."
brendon blushes and looks down at his toes, "yeah, but i usually fall asleep before the good stuff happens."
the ghost of a smile of pure and utter adoration for this boy tugs ryan's lips (because jesus christ, brendon falling asleep at nine o'clock? ryan's heart can hardly take it) and when ryan says "fine" and brendon just about has a seizure of happiness, ryan adds, "but only because it's your birthday", despite the fact that brendon is crushing his lungs.
----
"jon walker," brendon anounces, bounding into jon's room before stopping next to jon at the wetbar where he's mixing drinks. "you have been cordially invited to join myself and company on a safari into the depths of the african desert where we shall witness incredible acts of animal instinct, the unforgiving hand of mother nature and weather the sweltering heat of the african sun."
jon sips his rum, "cool."
----
"i can't believe you wore your italian leather shoes on a safari."
jon knows ridiculous. he lived on a bus with the academy is... for pete's sake, only to be abducted by people even more ridiculous, his band.
spencer knows shoes. he has five pairs of them safely back at the hotel, but this is just a little outrageous, seriously.
brendon knows ryan. he tends to wear things religiously, too, so it's not like he doesn't understand ryan's obsession but. damn.
"i can't believe you guys let me step in shit in my italian leather shoes!"
jon suppresses a laugh, spencer stares and brendon displays his maturity by saying, "dude, at least it's african shit."
jon has to walk away to laugh, preferably to near zack.
"brendon, would you please stop saying that? i don't care if we're in fucking africa. shit is shit and i just fucking. oh my god, i fucking stepped in shit. in these shoes." ryan's eyes are livid, outraged and spencer swears that in all of his years of knowing ryan, he's never seen him this angry. okay, well, maybe the time he and jon used the paper in ryan's notebook as rolling paper, maybe that's an exception. and the time brent called ryan a fag, but i mean, just look at ryan; can you really blame brent?
the sun is starting to go down and obviously taking life again in ryan's eyes because they're blazing and fuck, brendon totally saw that pile of shit just before ryan stepped in it. it was just, there. all ominous and shit and he totally could have said something but really, how the hell do you not see a giant pile of shit in the middle of the path? brendon blames ryan's diva glasses.
"i told you not to wear them," brendon tries, voice quiet and small, as an attempt to calm ryan because ryan's shoulders always ease when brendon talks soft like that. ryan deflates just a little and brendon's lips quirk when ryan lets out a pitiful chuckle.
"yeah, i know," he mumbles, a small smile tugging on his lips.
brendon shakes his head in mock disapproval and says, "when will you learn to listen to me, ross?"
"around the same time he learns how to stop dressing like a woman."
ryan's smile grows when he flips jon off.
----
"i'm sweaty," brendon declares when he curls up next to ryan on the couch in jon's room. why everyone assumed jon was okay with the intrusion, brendon's not sure. but it's jon and jon is pretty much okay with everything. except clubbing baby seals. he hates clubbing baby seals.
"you stink," ryan says, nose crinkling and shoving brendon away lightly. the sticky, wet residue brendon's hair left on ryan's neck reminds ryan of the funk left in the wake of a slug and brendon laughs.
"you love it," brendon forces, climbing up ryan's side, all out wallowing on him and rubbing his perspiration and stench all over ryan's clothing. "breathe it in, baby. this is the smell of a pure african warrior."
"funny you should say that," zack says as he closes the door to jon's suite. "because you smell like b.o."
"killing a grasshopper doesn't make you an african warrior, brendon," ryan protests, still trying to remove the sweat-soaked body from his lap. he thinks it's seeping into his jeans and really, that's gross. he enjoys brendon's sweat to a certain degree - mainly during sex, but whose judging - but this is just bordering on indecent.
"but i killed it with a spear!" brendon presses, arms wrapped around ryan's neck.
from across the room, at the wetbar no doubt, jon, who appeared not to have noticed the ridiculous conversation happening on his couch, turns to spencer who's at the fridge and says, "hey, spencer? since when did spears start looking a lot like nikes?"
ryan laughs, loud and beautiful, and brendon regrets the fact that he can't relish in it because of jon's sarcasm. "shut up, jon. i bet i could spear you, too."
"oh, yeah?" jon chuckles, turning around to face brendon with an amused smile. "just take off your shoe and we'll find out."
brendon makes squinty eyes of disapproval at jon and shakes his head, turning to look at ryan for just a moment, just long enough for jon to be caught off guard before he propels himself off ryan's lap and in jon's direction, shouting something indistinguishable through jon's explosive laughter.
----
"how did you get a key to my room?" ryan asks, closing the door when he steps inside to find brendon sitting on his bed, cross-legged and showered.
"i'm the birthday boy," brendon says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. "i get what i want."
"zack gave one to you, didn't he?"
brendon smiles and ryan kind of just floats towards it, like a moth to a flame and he presses his own stupid grin to brendon's.
"mmm, you taste good," brendon hums and ryan can't help but smile wider and cup brendon's face gently, long fingers tucked behind brendon's ears.
"happy birthday," ryan breathes, pressing soft kisses into the corner of brendon's mouth. brendon hums again and just as ryan has him backed up against the bed, knees hitting the edge, brendon whispers,
"can you believe those lions were eating that impala?"
if that's not a mood killer, ryan doesn't know what is.
"i mean, is that really what i miss on the discovery channel?"
"yes, brendon," ryan sighs.
"and people film that?"
"yes, brendon."
"and you watch it?"
"yes, brendon."
there's a pause.
"...you're sick, ryan."
ryan growls and says, "look, do you really want to discuss the horrors of nature with me? or do you want me to fuck you so we can get some of your birthday sex out of the way?"
grinning foolishly wide, brendon crawls backwards onto the bed, sprawls out and says, "sex please."
"that's what i thought," ryan nods and climbs up onto brendon's lap, straddling him.
he's kissing bruises into brendon's neck when all of brendon's moaning stops and ryan swears if anyone interrupts this, he's going to murder them mercilessly and feed them to the lions. no, really, with the way they were crunching on that impala, no one would ever find their bodies.
"what?" ryan asks, lips swollen and wet and brendon kind of loves how ryan has neglected to cut his hair recently. it's sticking to his forehead and curling with the heat and it's only now that brendon understands why ryan didn't speak to him for three days after he cut his own hair.
"when you say 'get some of it out of the way'...?" brendon begins, voice already a question.
"i mean, i've got a box full of condoms and it's not your birthday in america yet."
"oh."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
and now for me flailing over the birthday boy:
HERE IS MY FAVORITE PICTURE OF BRENDON BOYD URIE EVER TAKEN IN THE HISTORY OF FOREVER:
jfc, LOOK at him. i can't even. his face and his smile and omg, i bet that laugh was so fucking beautiful.
AND OH MY HELL HE'S AT THE PIANO. I JUST. HOW IS HE SO PERFECT?? :(
i want to pocket size him and carry him with me all the time. but omg, there are times - most of the time, actually - that i just want to fuck the shit out of him, oh my god
.____. so yeah, just.
UNF.
SO WITHOUT FURTHER DELAY,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BDEN!
MAY THIS DAY OF YOURS HAVE BEEN FILLED WITH LOVE AND LAUGHTER AND MUSIC AND LOTS OF DICK.
I LOVE YOU, YOU PRECIOUS BALL OF SUNSHINE! :*
hope this suffices, maddie, bb! :*
brendon urie's safari birthday (or why zack hall rules at life)
ryan/brendon, 1740 words, drabble
"but it's my birthday!" brendon whines and spencer's pants are about to rip, he swears.
"brendon, stop tugging my jeans and get off the floor. you're twenty-two for fuck's sake," spencer commands, signature bitch face intact.
"i don't care how old i am," brendon huffs, "it's my birthday and we're in africa, so what i say goes."
"actually," zack interjects from the jon's couch (he poked ryan awake earlier this morning and now he's claimed it for himself), "what i say goes, considering you guys would all get raped were it not for me."
brendon tilts his head and ponders, "this is true." zack makes a pleased grunt and spencer says, "exactly. now zack, tell brendon that we're not going on a safari."
brendon transforms into a babbling, panicked mess of "butbutbut" before zack cuts him off with a stern, "brendon, we're going on a safari," and spencer just all out gives up on the situation entirely and walks from the room, mumbling.
"OH MY GOD! YES!" brendon cheers and suddenly becomes a projectile of fuzzy hair and grins, landing with a thud on top of zack. "zack hall, you are my hero, holy shit."
"yeah, well," zack says, peeling brendon off of his side with a raised eyebrow. "we're only going because i want to catch a monkey. plus, i'm really bored and it's going to be extremely entertaining watching you try to convince ryan to go."
brendon frowns and says, "oh, fuck. i forgot about that."
zack gives a sympathetic, "yeah" before slapping his knee cheerfully and saying, "well, i'm off to tell eric. good luck, kid."
ryan has to go. it's fucking africa.
----
ryan is laughing and there's really nothing funny about crushing brendon's hopes and dreams.
"i'm not joking," brendon tries quietly, wringing his hands and twisting his fingers.
ryan's laughter fades into a sigh and then a look of disbelief, "no shit?"
"yeah, i- it's my birthday and i really want to go on a safari," brendon states. "it'd be cool. like, to celebrate my birthday over a few beers in the african brush, don't you think?"
ryan blinks and then bursts out laughing again. brendon doesn't see how this is funny because funny and totally fucking awesome are two separate emotions and this is definitely 'totally fucking awesome'.
"what's so funny?" brendon asks, voice sulky and a bit embarrassed, defensive.
"what's so funny is that you actually think that i'm going to pack myself into a jeep, drive out into the middle of the african desert, just to watch a few lions chow down on a decaying zebra. brendon, you and i watch that on the discovery channel every night."
brendon blushes and looks down at his toes, "yeah, but i usually fall asleep before the good stuff happens."
the ghost of a smile of pure and utter adoration for this boy tugs ryan's lips (because jesus christ, brendon falling asleep at nine o'clock? ryan's heart can hardly take it) and when ryan says "fine" and brendon just about has a seizure of happiness, ryan adds, "but only because it's your birthday", despite the fact that brendon is crushing his lungs.
----
"jon walker," brendon anounces, bounding into jon's room before stopping next to jon at the wetbar where he's mixing drinks. "you have been cordially invited to join myself and company on a safari into the depths of the african desert where we shall witness incredible acts of animal instinct, the unforgiving hand of mother nature and weather the sweltering heat of the african sun."
jon sips his rum, "cool."
----
"i can't believe you wore your italian leather shoes on a safari."
jon knows ridiculous. he lived on a bus with the academy is... for pete's sake, only to be abducted by people even more ridiculous, his band.
spencer knows shoes. he has five pairs of them safely back at the hotel, but this is just a little outrageous, seriously.
brendon knows ryan. he tends to wear things religiously, too, so it's not like he doesn't understand ryan's obsession but. damn.
"i can't believe you guys let me step in shit in my italian leather shoes!"
jon suppresses a laugh, spencer stares and brendon displays his maturity by saying, "dude, at least it's african shit."
jon has to walk away to laugh, preferably to near zack.
"brendon, would you please stop saying that? i don't care if we're in fucking africa. shit is shit and i just fucking. oh my god, i fucking stepped in shit. in these shoes." ryan's eyes are livid, outraged and spencer swears that in all of his years of knowing ryan, he's never seen him this angry. okay, well, maybe the time he and jon used the paper in ryan's notebook as rolling paper, maybe that's an exception. and the time brent called ryan a fag, but i mean, just look at ryan; can you really blame brent?
the sun is starting to go down and obviously taking life again in ryan's eyes because they're blazing and fuck, brendon totally saw that pile of shit just before ryan stepped in it. it was just, there. all ominous and shit and he totally could have said something but really, how the hell do you not see a giant pile of shit in the middle of the path? brendon blames ryan's diva glasses.
"i told you not to wear them," brendon tries, voice quiet and small, as an attempt to calm ryan because ryan's shoulders always ease when brendon talks soft like that. ryan deflates just a little and brendon's lips quirk when ryan lets out a pitiful chuckle.
"yeah, i know," he mumbles, a small smile tugging on his lips.
brendon shakes his head in mock disapproval and says, "when will you learn to listen to me, ross?"
"around the same time he learns how to stop dressing like a woman."
ryan's smile grows when he flips jon off.
----
"i'm sweaty," brendon declares when he curls up next to ryan on the couch in jon's room. why everyone assumed jon was okay with the intrusion, brendon's not sure. but it's jon and jon is pretty much okay with everything. except clubbing baby seals. he hates clubbing baby seals.
"you stink," ryan says, nose crinkling and shoving brendon away lightly. the sticky, wet residue brendon's hair left on ryan's neck reminds ryan of the funk left in the wake of a slug and brendon laughs.
"you love it," brendon forces, climbing up ryan's side, all out wallowing on him and rubbing his perspiration and stench all over ryan's clothing. "breathe it in, baby. this is the smell of a pure african warrior."
"funny you should say that," zack says as he closes the door to jon's suite. "because you smell like b.o."
"killing a grasshopper doesn't make you an african warrior, brendon," ryan protests, still trying to remove the sweat-soaked body from his lap. he thinks it's seeping into his jeans and really, that's gross. he enjoys brendon's sweat to a certain degree - mainly during sex, but whose judging - but this is just bordering on indecent.
"but i killed it with a spear!" brendon presses, arms wrapped around ryan's neck.
from across the room, at the wetbar no doubt, jon, who appeared not to have noticed the ridiculous conversation happening on his couch, turns to spencer who's at the fridge and says, "hey, spencer? since when did spears start looking a lot like nikes?"
ryan laughs, loud and beautiful, and brendon regrets the fact that he can't relish in it because of jon's sarcasm. "shut up, jon. i bet i could spear you, too."
"oh, yeah?" jon chuckles, turning around to face brendon with an amused smile. "just take off your shoe and we'll find out."
brendon makes squinty eyes of disapproval at jon and shakes his head, turning to look at ryan for just a moment, just long enough for jon to be caught off guard before he propels himself off ryan's lap and in jon's direction, shouting something indistinguishable through jon's explosive laughter.
----
"how did you get a key to my room?" ryan asks, closing the door when he steps inside to find brendon sitting on his bed, cross-legged and showered.
"i'm the birthday boy," brendon says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. "i get what i want."
"zack gave one to you, didn't he?"
brendon smiles and ryan kind of just floats towards it, like a moth to a flame and he presses his own stupid grin to brendon's.
"mmm, you taste good," brendon hums and ryan can't help but smile wider and cup brendon's face gently, long fingers tucked behind brendon's ears.
"happy birthday," ryan breathes, pressing soft kisses into the corner of brendon's mouth. brendon hums again and just as ryan has him backed up against the bed, knees hitting the edge, brendon whispers,
"can you believe those lions were eating that impala?"
if that's not a mood killer, ryan doesn't know what is.
"i mean, is that really what i miss on the discovery channel?"
"yes, brendon," ryan sighs.
"and people film that?"
"yes, brendon."
"and you watch it?"
"yes, brendon."
there's a pause.
"...you're sick, ryan."
ryan growls and says, "look, do you really want to discuss the horrors of nature with me? or do you want me to fuck you so we can get some of your birthday sex out of the way?"
grinning foolishly wide, brendon crawls backwards onto the bed, sprawls out and says, "sex please."
"that's what i thought," ryan nods and climbs up onto brendon's lap, straddling him.
he's kissing bruises into brendon's neck when all of brendon's moaning stops and ryan swears if anyone interrupts this, he's going to murder them mercilessly and feed them to the lions. no, really, with the way they were crunching on that impala, no one would ever find their bodies.
"what?" ryan asks, lips swollen and wet and brendon kind of loves how ryan has neglected to cut his hair recently. it's sticking to his forehead and curling with the heat and it's only now that brendon understands why ryan didn't speak to him for three days after he cut his own hair.
"when you say 'get some of it out of the way'...?" brendon begins, voice already a question.
"i mean, i've got a box full of condoms and it's not your birthday in america yet."
"oh."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
and now for me flailing over the birthday boy:
HERE IS MY FAVORITE PICTURE OF BRENDON BOYD URIE EVER TAKEN IN THE HISTORY OF FOREVER:
jfc, LOOK at him. i can't even. his face and his smile and omg, i bet that laugh was so fucking beautiful.
AND OH MY HELL HE'S AT THE PIANO. I JUST. HOW IS HE SO PERFECT?? :(
i want to pocket size him and carry him with me all the time. but omg, there are times - most of the time, actually - that i just want to fuck the shit out of him, oh my god
.____. so yeah, just.
UNF.
SO WITHOUT FURTHER DELAY,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BDEN!
MAY THIS DAY OF YOURS HAVE BEEN FILLED WITH LOVE AND LAUGHTER AND MUSIC AND LOTS OF DICK.
I LOVE YOU, YOU PRECIOUS BALL OF SUNSHINE! :*