In which There Is Jealousy, Embarrassment, Implied Sex, And A Dinner Party
Ryan likes Spencer from the get-go, so of course he expresses it by instant overt distrust, pranks, tests...
"Seriously, Ryan," Brendon finally says. "You threw his pants over the rafters. After you took them from his unconscious body. He's allowed to be a little freaked around you."
Ryan just pouts and slinks off. Brendon keeps a close eye on Ry next time they're around Spencer and Bob, and that's the only reason Brendon catches Spencer doing a reverse-pick, deftly dropping a wadded up bundle of beautiful sea-green silk into the open pocket of Ryan's oversized coat. Spencer catches Brendon watching, winks conspiratorally and drifts off.
Brendon grins. He knew he liked Spencer too.
The next time Spencer and Bob are back in town, Brendon decides to invite them to dinner.
Ryan fusses. Ryan never fusses. He's also wearing a sea-green scarf, and Brendon would be jealous if he was either the type to get jealous, or not sure in his bones that Spencer was as committed to Bob as Brendon was to Ryan.
But still, Ryan fussing. It's kind of adorable. Brendon smirks. "You didn't even so much as sweep the floor for me."
"You were delirious with fever and hadn't bathed since we'd fished you out of the sewer," Ryan shot back deadpan. "So no, I didn't bother sweeping."
Alex Marshall, who's been sitting in a corner watching the proceedings with interest, wrinkles his nose and says, "Brendon," in a reproachful voice.
"I was unconscious, Alex!" Brendon protested, frustrated.
"Still," Marshall said impetuously.
"Like it would have been any different if you were awake," Ryan added, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Marshall.
At least, Brendon reflects, making fun of him has calmed Ryan down a bit.
There's a knock on the door, and before Brendon has blinked, Marshall is gone through the open window, no doubt straight over to spread the word that Brendon's guests have actually arrived.
Brendon opens the door, beaming. Bob's looking a little awkward, holding a bottle of wine, which he hands to Brendon. He raised his eyebrows, grinned brightly and said, "Now, obviously one of you two was raised right. My bets on Smith, am I right?"
Bob snorts but doesn't deny it. Brendon stands aside and bows his guests in. He mutters to Spencer in a mock-secretive way, "You'll be the only one here, you know. No manners between us."
"Speak for youself, Urie," Ryan's voice carries through from the table.
What happens next leaves Brendon flabbergasted. He barely remembers sitting down, so shocked at the sudden display of polish and poise as Ryan flowed into the room and took over welcoming their guests with barely a word. He gives Ryan a pointed look that screams where did that come from?
Ryan gracefully ignores them and offers their guests a drink. It generally doesn't bother Brendon that he doesn't really know where Ryan came from; Ryan could say the same thing of him, and it's never been a problem. It's a little unnerving, though, that after this many years Ryan can still do something to make Brendon look up and wonder for a moment if he's seeing a stranger. Bob gives him a curious look, and Brendon lets his usual exuberence slide back into place, for now.
The food's good and the company's better, and Brendon has quite a nice night, but he still feels like maybe he should check. When he and Ryan clear the table, leaving their guests to their own devices for a moment, Brendon takes a second to walk up behind Ryan, put a tentative hand on his hip and lean in close to ask him, "You're not planning on leaving me for Spencer Smith, right?"
Ryan bumps back. "Depends, can he keep me in the style to which I'm accustomed?" he teases.
Brendon blinks, hesitating just a second too long. Ryan spins around and grabs Brendon's face. "Hey, wait, what, are you serious? No, never!" And he kisses Brendon, hard and brutally fast.
When Ryan pulls back, Brendon finds he's smiling a little sheepishly.
"Just, um, making sure, I guess," he says. "Hey, let me finish up in here. You go entertain our guests."
Ryan touches his cheek for a second before brushing past. When Brendon comes out a moment later, Spencer and Ryan are sitting as far apart as is possible without being rude. Brendon nudges Ryan along, closer to Spencer, as he flops into the conversation.
But Ryan flashes him a tiny little nod.
It's petty and stupid, but Brendon can't help but feel a little better, even if he does feel a little guilty with it.
It's officially Very Very Late by the time Bob and Spencer decide they must be going, and by the end, Brendon's starting to understand why people do this 'entertaining' thing on a regular basis. Brendon closes the door behind them, turns, and walks into Ryan's chest. Ryan's eyes are bright, his cheeks flushed. Ryan fists his hand in Brendon's shirt when Brendon tries to step back, hauling him into a kiss, his other hand is already slipping under the back of Brendon's shirt as he starts towing Brendon back to the bedroom.
Ryan pulls back from his mouth to move down to Brendon's neck, collarbone, and Brendon finds himself asking, "Hey, so, what brought this on? Not that--" a gasp, stumbling feet tripping through the doorway, "--not that I'm complaining but--"
Ryan growls at him, a low rumble in his throat. "Mine," he snarls, and Brendon realizes that's probably the best answer he's going to get.
And it's true, it's the most coherent thing he hears for a while, but later, much later, when they're lying near each other and Brendon lets his breath slow until he can feel the sweat dry on his skin, can hear Ryan's quiet breathing, he says, "You were jealous, Bren."
Brendon doesn't see the point in denying it to himself at this point. That kind of denial is only really possible before you start voicing your insecurities out loud. He nods.
"Christ. You weren't even jealous when I was fucking for money." Ryan sounds a little delighted.
Brendon huffs. "But that wasn't you..." he pokes a finger into Ryan's bony ribs until he squirms. "You and Spencer, you really get along..." he lets it trail off, sounding silly even to his own ears.
"Mhmm... Just like you get along with Gerard's brother and the woman with the pastry cart at market, and Bob and Spencer and, oh, about half the people you meet."
Brendon shrugs a little. It's true. It's also possible that he's blushing, which is absurd. He twists his head away, ready to let the subject drop.
Ryan rolls after him, catches his cheek with the palm of his hand and drags Brendon's eyes over to him. "It's you. It's always been you, and it always will be."
And Brendon could never deny Ryan anything, especially when Ryan wanted him. "Okay."