comment!fic: Brendon and Jon flirting, it's sort of a contest
Number 2 ficlet from the stump Skoozie meme, archival purposes edition! For airgiodslv who asked for "Brendon and Jon both flirting with Spencer and/or Ryan and really being attracted to each other." 626 words. Goes absolutely nowhere.
“What are you doing?” Ryan asks Brendon, squinting his eyes and cocking his head, like maybe Brendon’s one of those optical illusions with hidden tigers or sailboats. Which would be awesome, but not actually possible. He doesn’t think.
Brendon panics for no reason whatsoever and says, “Wowing you with my sexual wiles.”
Jon snickers from across the room. Damn it. Brendon totally sucks at this game.
*
Jon is the master - master - at flirting with Spencer. Brendon watches with his lower lip tucked under his teeth and his fingers tangled in the hem of his t-shirt. Jon leans towards Spencer but doesn’t touch.
Jon has that smile on his face. The you-are-cute-as-a-button smile, and then he pokes Spencer in the belly and Spencer’s face pinks and Brendon nods solemnly.
Round one to you, Jonny Walker, he thinks, and gives him a mock salute behind Spencer’s back.
*
Brendon has been flirting with Spencer for years. There’s a distinct lack of subtlety to his approach, though, so mainly Brendon thinks Spencer thinks Brendon just actually wants that many piggyback rides - which, okay, he does. Piggyback rides are awesome.
So, um. Brendon figures he’s got to step it up a notch.
“What the fuck,” Spencer says, even though there’s a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, Brendon can so see it.
Brendon widens his eyes and flutters his lashes and says, “They’re pretty. Like you.” He shakes the buttercups a little, arm out-stretched.
Spencer cocks a hip and looks at him skeptically. “They’re weeds.”
Spencer’s such a stickler for details, sheesh.
*
Brendon walks into the lounge and spots Jon, big hands curled over Ryan’s shoulders, kneading into the muscles around his neck, and by the blissful expression on Ryan’s face, Brendon guesses Ryan’s thoroughly enjoying himself.
Jon bends down and whispers something in Ryan’s ear and Ryan laughs, relaxed, and curls an arm around Jon’s calf and presses his cheek into Jon’s knee.
Whenever Brendon tries to give Ryan a friendly neighborhood rubdown, Ryan starts throwing elbows.
Brendon does not understand how he could fail so hard at this.
*
“Seriously, Brendon, I will kill you.”
“But-”
“Back the fuck off, Jesus Christ, you’re like a six month old puppy,” Ryan says, and Brendon does not see how that’s a bad thing. Puppies are adorable and people want to give them hugs all the time. Ryan’s just being pissy and mean.
Brendon slumps down on the couch and curls his legs up and, whatever, Brendon hates this game. This game sucks balls.
Jon finds him and crawls up next to him and tucks his chin onto Brendon’s shoulder and asks, “What’s wrong, little buddy?”
“Nothing,” Brendon mumbles into his knees.
Jon reaches around him and squeezes his hip. “Nuh uh, talk.”
Jon’s really comfy to lean into. Brendon shifts so he’s resting all along Jon’s chest and Jon slips his hand from Brendon’s hip and palms his belly.
“Ryan won’t let me hug him,” Brendon says.
Jon smiles against Brendon’s neck. “You don’t want to hug Ryan, anyway. Ryan’s all cool robot casing.”
“I’m sitting right here,” Ryan says absently, flipping through his magazine.
“With a squishy warm core, Ryan Ross, you didn’t let me finish.”
Brendon grins against the corduroy of his pants. He doesn’t have to see him to know Ryan’s giving Jon a ridiculously fond you-douche look.
“You win,” Brendon says.
“I totally win. What do I win?” Jon snuggles closer.
“Oh my god, guys, bleh,” Ryan says, but he doesn’t move from his seat, and then Spencer comes in and squishes down next to him and jabs Ryan in the side until Ryan moves his boney ass half into his lap - which can’t be comfortable, Brendon thinks, but whatever.
Whatever.
“What are you doing?” Ryan asks Brendon, squinting his eyes and cocking his head, like maybe Brendon’s one of those optical illusions with hidden tigers or sailboats. Which would be awesome, but not actually possible. He doesn’t think.
Brendon panics for no reason whatsoever and says, “Wowing you with my sexual wiles.”
Jon snickers from across the room. Damn it. Brendon totally sucks at this game.
*
Jon is the master - master - at flirting with Spencer. Brendon watches with his lower lip tucked under his teeth and his fingers tangled in the hem of his t-shirt. Jon leans towards Spencer but doesn’t touch.
Jon has that smile on his face. The you-are-cute-as-a-button smile, and then he pokes Spencer in the belly and Spencer’s face pinks and Brendon nods solemnly.
Round one to you, Jonny Walker, he thinks, and gives him a mock salute behind Spencer’s back.
*
Brendon has been flirting with Spencer for years. There’s a distinct lack of subtlety to his approach, though, so mainly Brendon thinks Spencer thinks Brendon just actually wants that many piggyback rides - which, okay, he does. Piggyback rides are awesome.
So, um. Brendon figures he’s got to step it up a notch.
“What the fuck,” Spencer says, even though there’s a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, Brendon can so see it.
Brendon widens his eyes and flutters his lashes and says, “They’re pretty. Like you.” He shakes the buttercups a little, arm out-stretched.
Spencer cocks a hip and looks at him skeptically. “They’re weeds.”
Spencer’s such a stickler for details, sheesh.
*
Brendon walks into the lounge and spots Jon, big hands curled over Ryan’s shoulders, kneading into the muscles around his neck, and by the blissful expression on Ryan’s face, Brendon guesses Ryan’s thoroughly enjoying himself.
Jon bends down and whispers something in Ryan’s ear and Ryan laughs, relaxed, and curls an arm around Jon’s calf and presses his cheek into Jon’s knee.
Whenever Brendon tries to give Ryan a friendly neighborhood rubdown, Ryan starts throwing elbows.
Brendon does not understand how he could fail so hard at this.
*
“Seriously, Brendon, I will kill you.”
“But-”
“Back the fuck off, Jesus Christ, you’re like a six month old puppy,” Ryan says, and Brendon does not see how that’s a bad thing. Puppies are adorable and people want to give them hugs all the time. Ryan’s just being pissy and mean.
Brendon slumps down on the couch and curls his legs up and, whatever, Brendon hates this game. This game sucks balls.
Jon finds him and crawls up next to him and tucks his chin onto Brendon’s shoulder and asks, “What’s wrong, little buddy?”
“Nothing,” Brendon mumbles into his knees.
Jon reaches around him and squeezes his hip. “Nuh uh, talk.”
Jon’s really comfy to lean into. Brendon shifts so he’s resting all along Jon’s chest and Jon slips his hand from Brendon’s hip and palms his belly.
“Ryan won’t let me hug him,” Brendon says.
Jon smiles against Brendon’s neck. “You don’t want to hug Ryan, anyway. Ryan’s all cool robot casing.”
“I’m sitting right here,” Ryan says absently, flipping through his magazine.
“With a squishy warm core, Ryan Ross, you didn’t let me finish.”
Brendon grins against the corduroy of his pants. He doesn’t have to see him to know Ryan’s giving Jon a ridiculously fond you-douche look.
“You win,” Brendon says.
“I totally win. What do I win?” Jon snuggles closer.
“Oh my god, guys, bleh,” Ryan says, but he doesn’t move from his seat, and then Spencer comes in and squishes down next to him and jabs Ryan in the side until Ryan moves his boney ass half into his lap - which can’t be comfortable, Brendon thinks, but whatever.
Whatever.