'Brendon Urie & the Super-Secret Fort' [Brendon Urie/Spencer Smith]
Title: 'Brendon Urie & the Super-Secret Fort'
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Rating: PG
Pairing: Brendon Urie/Spencer Smith
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: “Don’t tell me you’re still upset about ‘High School Musical’ ending, Brendon.” A slight hesitation, followed by yet another rustle. “Ah,” says Ryan, getting up from the bed. “Then it must be Spencer.”
Disclaimer: I don't own Panic, Pete does ;)
Author's Notes: I adore you, Brendon Urie. That is all.
---<---<---@
“Brendon?”
Brendon grunts, half-raises his head from the small nest of sheets and pillows he’s made for himself at the bottom of his bunk, and regards Jon balefully. He looks so utterly sorry for himself that Jon almost laughs - not at the other boy’s sadness, because Jon would never find such a thing funny, but rather at the fact that Brendon is so very dramatic.
“What’s going on, dude?”
Brendon sighs, but the expelled air is captured by the cotton of his sheets so it comes out as more of a huff. When he realizes that’s not going to make Jon go away, he rolls his eyes and, sounding most perturbed that Jon totally just invited himself into his super-secret fort (which nobody’s supposed to know the location of even though it’s in Brendon’s bunk), says witheringly, “I’m being emo, Jon Walker,” as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
It kind of is, but when Jon had asked what was going on, that wasn’t what he’d wanted to know. He quirks an eyebrow. “You’re moping, man.”
Brendon makes a noise that sort of sounds like “So what?” unless Jon’s imagining things.
“So… you’re Brendon,” Jon says, and Brendon’s kind of annoyed because, like, he knows this already. “You don’t mope.”
“I am not moping,” Brendon corrects him disdainfully, as if he can’t believe that Jon of all people really, seriously thinks that. “I’m being angsty.”
“You don’t angst,” Jon counters immediately, and Brendon puts on this growly face that he fancies is sort of reminiscent of Pete’s, and evidently Jon agrees because he says, “Whoa, dude, it’s called the Wentz Face for a reason.”
Brendon flips him the bird and retreats back under the sheets. “Go ‘way, Jon Walker,” he murmurs into the fabric.
Jon frowns, opens his mouth to say something else but then thinks better of it and obliges.
--
“Bren.”
It’s Ryan’s voice, not five minutes later, and Brendon doesn’t even stick his head out this time.
“Wow, Jon wasn’t kidding when he said you were moping.”
“I’m not moping,” Brendon says petulantly. “I told him I wasn’t moping. Jon Walker doesn’t listen.”
He feels the mattress dip down a little and knows Ryan’s just sat on the other end of the bed. “So, talk to me. I’ll listen.”
Brendon scowls before realizing Ryan can’t see him.
“Don’t make that face at me,” Ryan says anyway, because he writes the words that Brendon sings and they’re close enough to practically read each other’s minds. “Is it touring? Are you just grumpy from being on the bus too long?”
Brendon shakes his head deep within his cave of sheets and blankets, and the covers rustle against his tousled hair.
“Is it me?”
The covers rustle again.
“Jon?”
Rustle.
“Don’t tell me you’re still upset about ‘High School Musical’ ending, Brendon.”
A slight hesitation, followed by yet another rustle.
“Ah,” says Ryan, getting up from the bed. “Then it must be Spencer.”
Brendon’s head stays still.
--
“What’s up?” Spencer asks a short time later. Brendon pictures him with his eyebrows raised. “Ryan said I did something.”
Brendon murmurs something that may or may not be, “It’s not you, it’s me,” depending on the level of cliché he’s willing to stoop to that day.
Spencer says “Hmph,” and Brendon knows he’s crossing his arms. “If you won’t talk to me then I’ll go back outside and play Wii Bowling with Jon.”
Brendon can hear Spencer’s ridiculously expensive sneakers pivoting on the carpet as if he’s really going to leave, so he lifts his head up from the pillow and peeks through the sheets. “Don’t go.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
Brendon sighs unhappily. “Because you’re the reason I’m sad in the first place.”
Spencer frowns. “You know, all those names I called you yesterday when you tripped over my D&G’s, I didn’t mean them. I was just concerned that you left a smudge on them or something.” He sniffs. “They cost a lot. That’s why I usually keep them in their shoebox.”
“I didn’t mean to trip over them,” Brendon says with a pout. “I just got excited.”
“You got over-caffeinated,” Spencer corrects. “We took a vote earlier. No more Red Bull on the bus. It’s not safe for any of us.”
“You’re not king of the bus, Spencer,” Brendon tells him, eyes flashing. “You can’t make rules like that.”
“Three against one,” Spencer says with a smirk. “Democracy screwed you over.”
Brendon sighs heavily. “Am I allowed to keep the Candy Buttons?”
There’s a brief silence while Spencer thinks this over.
“You are,” he says finally, “but I don’t think you should buy any more for a while.”
Brendon doesn’t like it but he can understand the logic. “I’m really sorry about your shoes.”
Spencer nods curtly. “No harm done. They’ll get over it in time, I expect.”
Somehow, Brendon feels worse. “I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”
Spencer’s ice-blue eyes seem to soften slightly. “I wasn’t mad,” he tells Brendon. “Not exactly. I was just irked.”
“Irked, Spencer Smith?” Brendon inquires.
“Yeah. Like, kind of annoyed, but not a lot,” Spencer clarifies.
“Oh.” Brendon seems to accept this.
“So you can come out now,” Spencer says gently. “Nobody’s angry. You don’t need to hide.”
“I do.”
“You really -”
“I do, Spencer.”
Spencer sighs. “Is that super-secret fort of yours big enough for two people?”
Brendon furrows his brow in thought. “I s’pose,” he said dubiously. “Why?”
Spencer eases off his precious D&G’s and sets them neatly at the end of the bunk. “I can hide in it with you if it’ll make you feel better.”
“Hm.” Brendon considers this. The more he thinks about it, the more he thinks it would. “Okay,” he says finally, “but don’t tell Jon and Ryan where we are. I don’t want them to find us.”
Spencer puts a finger to his lips. “Not a word,” he promises.
Brendon smiles his first real smile of the day and lifts up the blanket so Spencer can join him.
---<---<---@
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Rating: PG
Pairing: Brendon Urie/Spencer Smith
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: “Don’t tell me you’re still upset about ‘High School Musical’ ending, Brendon.” A slight hesitation, followed by yet another rustle. “Ah,” says Ryan, getting up from the bed. “Then it must be Spencer.”
Disclaimer: I don't own Panic, Pete does ;)
Author's Notes: I adore you, Brendon Urie. That is all.
---<---<---@
“Brendon?”
Brendon grunts, half-raises his head from the small nest of sheets and pillows he’s made for himself at the bottom of his bunk, and regards Jon balefully. He looks so utterly sorry for himself that Jon almost laughs - not at the other boy’s sadness, because Jon would never find such a thing funny, but rather at the fact that Brendon is so very dramatic.
“What’s going on, dude?”
Brendon sighs, but the expelled air is captured by the cotton of his sheets so it comes out as more of a huff. When he realizes that’s not going to make Jon go away, he rolls his eyes and, sounding most perturbed that Jon totally just invited himself into his super-secret fort (which nobody’s supposed to know the location of even though it’s in Brendon’s bunk), says witheringly, “I’m being emo, Jon Walker,” as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
It kind of is, but when Jon had asked what was going on, that wasn’t what he’d wanted to know. He quirks an eyebrow. “You’re moping, man.”
Brendon makes a noise that sort of sounds like “So what?” unless Jon’s imagining things.
“So… you’re Brendon,” Jon says, and Brendon’s kind of annoyed because, like, he knows this already. “You don’t mope.”
“I am not moping,” Brendon corrects him disdainfully, as if he can’t believe that Jon of all people really, seriously thinks that. “I’m being angsty.”
“You don’t angst,” Jon counters immediately, and Brendon puts on this growly face that he fancies is sort of reminiscent of Pete’s, and evidently Jon agrees because he says, “Whoa, dude, it’s called the Wentz Face for a reason.”
Brendon flips him the bird and retreats back under the sheets. “Go ‘way, Jon Walker,” he murmurs into the fabric.
Jon frowns, opens his mouth to say something else but then thinks better of it and obliges.
--
“Bren.”
It’s Ryan’s voice, not five minutes later, and Brendon doesn’t even stick his head out this time.
“Wow, Jon wasn’t kidding when he said you were moping.”
“I’m not moping,” Brendon says petulantly. “I told him I wasn’t moping. Jon Walker doesn’t listen.”
He feels the mattress dip down a little and knows Ryan’s just sat on the other end of the bed. “So, talk to me. I’ll listen.”
Brendon scowls before realizing Ryan can’t see him.
“Don’t make that face at me,” Ryan says anyway, because he writes the words that Brendon sings and they’re close enough to practically read each other’s minds. “Is it touring? Are you just grumpy from being on the bus too long?”
Brendon shakes his head deep within his cave of sheets and blankets, and the covers rustle against his tousled hair.
“Is it me?”
The covers rustle again.
“Jon?”
Rustle.
“Don’t tell me you’re still upset about ‘High School Musical’ ending, Brendon.”
A slight hesitation, followed by yet another rustle.
“Ah,” says Ryan, getting up from the bed. “Then it must be Spencer.”
Brendon’s head stays still.
--
“What’s up?” Spencer asks a short time later. Brendon pictures him with his eyebrows raised. “Ryan said I did something.”
Brendon murmurs something that may or may not be, “It’s not you, it’s me,” depending on the level of cliché he’s willing to stoop to that day.
Spencer says “Hmph,” and Brendon knows he’s crossing his arms. “If you won’t talk to me then I’ll go back outside and play Wii Bowling with Jon.”
Brendon can hear Spencer’s ridiculously expensive sneakers pivoting on the carpet as if he’s really going to leave, so he lifts his head up from the pillow and peeks through the sheets. “Don’t go.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
Brendon sighs unhappily. “Because you’re the reason I’m sad in the first place.”
Spencer frowns. “You know, all those names I called you yesterday when you tripped over my D&G’s, I didn’t mean them. I was just concerned that you left a smudge on them or something.” He sniffs. “They cost a lot. That’s why I usually keep them in their shoebox.”
“I didn’t mean to trip over them,” Brendon says with a pout. “I just got excited.”
“You got over-caffeinated,” Spencer corrects. “We took a vote earlier. No more Red Bull on the bus. It’s not safe for any of us.”
“You’re not king of the bus, Spencer,” Brendon tells him, eyes flashing. “You can’t make rules like that.”
“Three against one,” Spencer says with a smirk. “Democracy screwed you over.”
Brendon sighs heavily. “Am I allowed to keep the Candy Buttons?”
There’s a brief silence while Spencer thinks this over.
“You are,” he says finally, “but I don’t think you should buy any more for a while.”
Brendon doesn’t like it but he can understand the logic. “I’m really sorry about your shoes.”
Spencer nods curtly. “No harm done. They’ll get over it in time, I expect.”
Somehow, Brendon feels worse. “I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”
Spencer’s ice-blue eyes seem to soften slightly. “I wasn’t mad,” he tells Brendon. “Not exactly. I was just irked.”
“Irked, Spencer Smith?” Brendon inquires.
“Yeah. Like, kind of annoyed, but not a lot,” Spencer clarifies.
“Oh.” Brendon seems to accept this.
“So you can come out now,” Spencer says gently. “Nobody’s angry. You don’t need to hide.”
“I do.”
“You really -”
“I do, Spencer.”
Spencer sighs. “Is that super-secret fort of yours big enough for two people?”
Brendon furrows his brow in thought. “I s’pose,” he said dubiously. “Why?”
Spencer eases off his precious D&G’s and sets them neatly at the end of the bunk. “I can hide in it with you if it’ll make you feel better.”
“Hm.” Brendon considers this. The more he thinks about it, the more he thinks it would. “Okay,” he says finally, “but don’t tell Jon and Ryan where we are. I don’t want them to find us.”
Spencer puts a finger to his lips. “Not a word,” he promises.
Brendon smiles his first real smile of the day and lifts up the blanket so Spencer can join him.
---<---<---@