Fic(ish): Watch Your Wallet (and show me that smile)
So there was once a time in my life where I wrote fic. Not a lot of fic, and only a small amount got posted, but it still happened. And then I got a job, and while I am excited about many things involving my job, such as money and health insurance and actually doing something I love, there has been very few chances for fic.
Someday, SOMEDAY, I will finish the girl!Brendon fic that I am so very in love with, but in the meantime I'm getting rid of a few things that will not be finished.
Watch Your Wallet (and show me that smile)
“Walker, this one’s for you,” and the file landed on the desk.
Jon looked up just as his supervisor turned away, so apparently details weren’t going to be forthcoming. Ross, Ryan the label read, but there was no picture on the inside flap. So they hadn’t caught him on camera yet, Jon grinned, cracked his fingers, and got to work.
* * *
So it’s late, and Spencer is packing all the stuff in their rattrap of an apartment (but with original wood floors and molding because “Spencer, it is all part of the theme”) so they can make a quick getaway in the morning when Ryan comes bursting through the door in a flurry of scarves and too-bright eyes.
“No,” Spencer says before Ryan has a chance to open his mouth. It is important to be firm about these kind of things.
“But Spencer,” Ryan starts, skipping past the usual introduction and into the whining portion of the argument. “You don’t understand, it’s absolutely perfect: lonely young man, social awkwardness, need to belong. Perfect..”
“No, you don’t understand. There are cops, and they have a file.”
“There’s always cops,” Ryan snorts, but Spencer railroads over him.
“And since we nearly got caught on the Beckett thing, they are looking for us in the city we are actually in which is not conducive to not getting caught. They don’t let you wear scarves in prison, Ryan.”
Spencer can almost see him push down the need to respond in favor of turning wide eyes and a not-quite-trembling lip up to Spencer.
“Stop that. You look ridiculous.”
The lip is definitely trembling now. There might even be a shadow of tears.
“I hate you so much, oh my God.”
There is a smirk somewhere in Ryan’s eyes. Spencer can’t figure out how, but it’s definitely there.
“In addition to being awkward, is he at least filthy rich?”
“You know it.”
* * *
Spencer and Ryan have split up to hide in the bushes and survey the mark.
Or at least, that’s how Spencer phrased it this morning. So there’s a good chance that Ryan, on the south side of the estate, is actually in the bushes, cleverly camouflaged with an olive fringed scarf, possibly with foliage tucked into his hat brim.
For his part, Spencer is wearing a hoodie, and a backpack, and has earbuds in. If there’s any notes he needs to make, he can just pretend he was moved to write poetry about nature or some shit. The trees are actually really nice here, marking the boundaries but not actually creating one. He loves when people don’t have fences.
“Hi.”
“Holy fucking mother of shit!” Spencer spins around, and the kid jumps backward.
“Oh, um. Sorry. For startling you. I really thought, I mean, I made some noise, and,” the kid swallows. “Sorry.”
The kid is dressed similarly to Spencer, if Spencer were fond of pastels and Hello Kitty backpacks. He has dark hair and dark eyes and, although his first impression had placed the kid in high school, Spencer happens to know that he is twenty-four. Because the kid is Brendon Fucking Urie.
“I’ll just, … go then.” Brendon Fucking Urie says, and starts edging away. That is when Spencer realizes that he is still staring at the guy like a freak, and blushes abruptly and looks away. He doesn’t care what Ryan says, he can shift plans when he needs to.
“Wait!” and Urie stops immediately, glancing back at him. “I didn’t mean…, you startled me.”
The smile he gets in return is as much wry as it is guilty. “I got that.”
Spencer smiles back, and reaches into his pocket to turn off the imaginary music playing in his ears. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone else around here, it seemed so quiet.”
“There’s not usually, what with the “No Trespassing” signs.” Brendon gestures vaguely in the direction behind him.
Spencer can’t manufacture a blush, but he can look abashed if he wants to. “I…took it as a suggestion?” Then he winks at Brendon.
Brendon’s eyes widen, but he laughs. Spencer beams at him.
Gotcha.
Someday, SOMEDAY, I will finish the girl!Brendon fic that I am so very in love with, but in the meantime I'm getting rid of a few things that will not be finished.
Watch Your Wallet (and show me that smile)
“Walker, this one’s for you,” and the file landed on the desk.
Jon looked up just as his supervisor turned away, so apparently details weren’t going to be forthcoming. Ross, Ryan the label read, but there was no picture on the inside flap. So they hadn’t caught him on camera yet, Jon grinned, cracked his fingers, and got to work.
* * *
So it’s late, and Spencer is packing all the stuff in their rattrap of an apartment (but with original wood floors and molding because “Spencer, it is all part of the theme”) so they can make a quick getaway in the morning when Ryan comes bursting through the door in a flurry of scarves and too-bright eyes.
“No,” Spencer says before Ryan has a chance to open his mouth. It is important to be firm about these kind of things.
“But Spencer,” Ryan starts, skipping past the usual introduction and into the whining portion of the argument. “You don’t understand, it’s absolutely perfect: lonely young man, social awkwardness, need to belong. Perfect..”
“No, you don’t understand. There are cops, and they have a file.”
“There’s always cops,” Ryan snorts, but Spencer railroads over him.
“And since we nearly got caught on the Beckett thing, they are looking for us in the city we are actually in which is not conducive to not getting caught. They don’t let you wear scarves in prison, Ryan.”
Spencer can almost see him push down the need to respond in favor of turning wide eyes and a not-quite-trembling lip up to Spencer.
“Stop that. You look ridiculous.”
The lip is definitely trembling now. There might even be a shadow of tears.
“I hate you so much, oh my God.”
There is a smirk somewhere in Ryan’s eyes. Spencer can’t figure out how, but it’s definitely there.
“In addition to being awkward, is he at least filthy rich?”
“You know it.”
* * *
Spencer and Ryan have split up to hide in the bushes and survey the mark.
Or at least, that’s how Spencer phrased it this morning. So there’s a good chance that Ryan, on the south side of the estate, is actually in the bushes, cleverly camouflaged with an olive fringed scarf, possibly with foliage tucked into his hat brim.
For his part, Spencer is wearing a hoodie, and a backpack, and has earbuds in. If there’s any notes he needs to make, he can just pretend he was moved to write poetry about nature or some shit. The trees are actually really nice here, marking the boundaries but not actually creating one. He loves when people don’t have fences.
“Hi.”
“Holy fucking mother of shit!” Spencer spins around, and the kid jumps backward.
“Oh, um. Sorry. For startling you. I really thought, I mean, I made some noise, and,” the kid swallows. “Sorry.”
The kid is dressed similarly to Spencer, if Spencer were fond of pastels and Hello Kitty backpacks. He has dark hair and dark eyes and, although his first impression had placed the kid in high school, Spencer happens to know that he is twenty-four. Because the kid is Brendon Fucking Urie.
“I’ll just, … go then.” Brendon Fucking Urie says, and starts edging away. That is when Spencer realizes that he is still staring at the guy like a freak, and blushes abruptly and looks away. He doesn’t care what Ryan says, he can shift plans when he needs to.
“Wait!” and Urie stops immediately, glancing back at him. “I didn’t mean…, you startled me.”
The smile he gets in return is as much wry as it is guilty. “I got that.”
Spencer smiles back, and reaches into his pocket to turn off the imaginary music playing in his ears. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone else around here, it seemed so quiet.”
“There’s not usually, what with the “No Trespassing” signs.” Brendon gestures vaguely in the direction behind him.
Spencer can’t manufacture a blush, but he can look abashed if he wants to. “I…took it as a suggestion?” Then he winks at Brendon.
Brendon’s eyes widen, but he laughs. Spencer beams at him.
Gotcha.