bandslash fic: who we were when
Written for blows_to_come. Huge thanks to disarm_d for the beta.
who we were when
brendon/ryan
1378 wds
Ryan is sort of twitchy and cranky for a whole bunch of practices, days and days, before anyone tells Brendon why.
“Broke up with his girlfriend,” Brent says after a week or two, shortly after Ryan stalks out in a snit. “Hasn’t gotten any in, like, a month.”
He’s been snapping at everyone, even Spencer, who just raises an eyebrow and ignores him. But it’s always worse with Brendon because Ryan never hesitates to bitch him out. Not when Brendon makes a mistake and definitely not when Ryan’s in a shitty mood.
And okay, Brendon is mostly pissed because Ryan takes his anger out on him more than anyone else and seriously, someone could have at least told him.
After so many practices with the glaring and the snapping, Brendon is pretty damn tired of it all. Yea, he knows he was flat on that last song, but he doesn’t need Ryan glaring at him the entire time to get the point.
“That was wonderful. Just wonderful,” Ryan says, as soon as the last note ends.
And the sarcasm, Brendon could do without that too.
To make it worse, Spencer just shrugs when Brendon sends him a look that clearly says could you do something? Please?
Ryan lets out another long-suffering sigh and Brendon is done, over it. He’s tired of listening to Ryan bitch and be a general pain in the ass. Spencer is able to ignore him well enough, tapping out a soft rhythm on his spare and Brent is always off in his own world, almost like he doesn’t want to be here.
“If you could just get it right, Brendon. I mean, it’s not that hard.” There’s so much attitude in his tone that Brendon just kind of snaps.
“I need to talk to you.” And he’s dragging Ryan down the hallway of Spencer’s grandma’s house, completely ignoring the look of surprise on Ryan’s face and the indignant noises he’s making. When they’re far enough away, can no longer hear the tap of Spencer’s drumstick or Brent’s insistent plucking, Brendon just sort of pushes Ryan towards the wall and plants himself in front of him.
Ryan’s face is completely devoid of any emotion and he seems almost bored.
“Yes?” Is all he says and Brendon has the biggest urge to hit him. But that would cause more problems than it would solve and he’s still a tiny bit afraid of Spencer.
“What the hell is your problem?” Ryan’s eyes flash, just for a second, and then it’s right back to the look of utter boredom. He meets Brendon’s gaze straight on and doesn’t even blink.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s all of it, everything from the last three days and the utter lack of concern on Ryan’s face that does it. Brendon doesn’t even hesitate, just moves right into Ryan’s space and kisses him. Hard.
There is no reaction, not at first. Ryan stands stock still, hands hanging at his sides and eyes wide, but emotionless.
It’s not until Brendon backs up, just an inch away from all that ice, that Ryan finally moves. One hand behind Brendon’s head, the other at his hip, Ryan meets Brendon in the middle. And just like the first time, it’s not gentle.
They kiss, rough and bruising, teeth biting softly, and then harder. Ryan doesn’t apologize for the whimper he pulls out of Brendon, but pulls away just enough to push him backwards into the closest open door.
Brendon flails a little, desperately searching for a light switch and his soft cry of triumph quickly dissolves into a moan as Ryan reaches for his zipper.
“No.” He’s concentrating all his efforts on that one word and is suddenly bereft when Ryan completely freezes, hands paused millimeters from the waistband of Brendon’s underwear. Brendon pulls him a little closer and somehow shuffles them in a tiny half-circle, lips still attached to Ryan’s jaw, throat, collarbone. He turns them just enough to push Ryan against the nearest vertical surface. “You.”
The tension drains out of the shoulders beneath his hands as Ryan finally relaxes, leans back against the sink as Brendon drops to his knees. The floor is hard, cold underneath Brendon, but Ryan is warm, solid heat right in front of him.
Impatient as ever, Ryan shifts his hips once, twice, and Brendon refocuses. He’s got the button and zipper undone in no time, Ryan’s dark underwear all that’s stopping him now.
He’s never done this, only ever received once and that had been a total disaster. But Ryan is making soft, almost whimpering noises and moving a little, sort of restlessly.
“Come on.” And Brendon has never heard Ryan beg before. Never heard that desperate tone in his voice.
He doesn’t pull them all the way down, just pushes underwear and jeans to mid-thigh, effectively trapping Ryan between him and the sink at his back.
Even as Brendon’s licking his lips, preparing himself, Ryan’s hand is making its way towards his dick. Without thinking, Brendon swats it away, mumbles something about patience that makes Ryan snort, and wraps his own around the base. He gives one pull and smoothes some of Ryan’s precome into the skin.
Just as Ryan tenses up, starts to tell him off for messing around, Brendon takes the head into his mouth, sucks on it lightly and whatever Ryan was about to say turns into a moan.
Brendon looks up, meets Ryan’s gaze and sucks him in farther. And Ryan doesn’t say anything, nothing that sounds like real words anyway, but his hands thread through Brendon’s hair and grip hard. He’s not pushing, not even thrusting into Brendon’s mouth, just holding him there.
Brendon’s using his tongue, trying to coordinate some kind of movement, create any sort of rhythm, but it’s the sucking at the tip and short licks at Ryan’s slit that produce the most reaction.
Small bursts of sound and the tightening of his fingers in Brendon’s hair are all he has to go on, but he loves the sound of Ryan’s voice pleading for it, even without words.
He pulls away, slowly allows Ryan to fall out of his mouth and the reaction is exactly what he is looking for.
“No, no, no.” Ryan tries to pull him back, tugs at Brendon’s hair just a little harder than necessary and whines softly.
Brendon hushes him and licks slowly up the underside of his cock. He’s trying to take his time, make it good, but Ryan is starting to twitch under his hands.
“Brendon.” He knows it’s supposed to be a warning, something deep and dark, but it just sounds desperate. With a smile, Brendon takes Ryan back into his mouth, takes in as much as he can.
He swallows, just once, and savors the tiny whimpers that escape Ryan.
“Please, Bren. Just.” He sucks harder then, swallows again. Ryan’s thigh begins to tense up underneath his palm and Brendon tightens his fingers around his leg and his cock both.
With one twist of his wrist and a tiny moan around his cock, Ryan is coming. Brendon lets Ryan work himself through his climax, coaxes as many small thrusts and incoherent mutterings out of Ryan as he can. He continues sucking him softly, trying to catch everything.
Ryan lets him go with one last thrust and the smallest of sighs. Sitting back on his heels, Brendon can’t help but smile up at him.
“You know this doesn’t change anything.” And Brendon knows Ryan is going for that nasty disapproving tone, but he’s not buying a word of it. Instead, he kisses the sharp jut of Ryan’s hip, bites down hard enough to leave a mark, and gently tucks him back into his underwear and jeans.
“Sure, Ry. I know.” Brendon smiles, soft and satisfied. Standing, Brendon leans in and kisses him once, just at the corner of his mouth. “Ready to finish?”
Ryan coughs, kind of chokes, breath hot against Brendon’s cheek.
“Rehearsal, jeez.”
The look Brendon catches on Ryan’s face right before he shuts off the bathroom light is not exactly blissful, but it’s damn close.
In the living room, Ryan meets Spencer’s look with a grin and even taps Brent on the shoulder as he passes.
who we were when
brendon/ryan
1378 wds
Ryan is sort of twitchy and cranky for a whole bunch of practices, days and days, before anyone tells Brendon why.
“Broke up with his girlfriend,” Brent says after a week or two, shortly after Ryan stalks out in a snit. “Hasn’t gotten any in, like, a month.”
He’s been snapping at everyone, even Spencer, who just raises an eyebrow and ignores him. But it’s always worse with Brendon because Ryan never hesitates to bitch him out. Not when Brendon makes a mistake and definitely not when Ryan’s in a shitty mood.
And okay, Brendon is mostly pissed because Ryan takes his anger out on him more than anyone else and seriously, someone could have at least told him.
After so many practices with the glaring and the snapping, Brendon is pretty damn tired of it all. Yea, he knows he was flat on that last song, but he doesn’t need Ryan glaring at him the entire time to get the point.
“That was wonderful. Just wonderful,” Ryan says, as soon as the last note ends.
And the sarcasm, Brendon could do without that too.
To make it worse, Spencer just shrugs when Brendon sends him a look that clearly says could you do something? Please?
Ryan lets out another long-suffering sigh and Brendon is done, over it. He’s tired of listening to Ryan bitch and be a general pain in the ass. Spencer is able to ignore him well enough, tapping out a soft rhythm on his spare and Brent is always off in his own world, almost like he doesn’t want to be here.
“If you could just get it right, Brendon. I mean, it’s not that hard.” There’s so much attitude in his tone that Brendon just kind of snaps.
“I need to talk to you.” And he’s dragging Ryan down the hallway of Spencer’s grandma’s house, completely ignoring the look of surprise on Ryan’s face and the indignant noises he’s making. When they’re far enough away, can no longer hear the tap of Spencer’s drumstick or Brent’s insistent plucking, Brendon just sort of pushes Ryan towards the wall and plants himself in front of him.
Ryan’s face is completely devoid of any emotion and he seems almost bored.
“Yes?” Is all he says and Brendon has the biggest urge to hit him. But that would cause more problems than it would solve and he’s still a tiny bit afraid of Spencer.
“What the hell is your problem?” Ryan’s eyes flash, just for a second, and then it’s right back to the look of utter boredom. He meets Brendon’s gaze straight on and doesn’t even blink.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s all of it, everything from the last three days and the utter lack of concern on Ryan’s face that does it. Brendon doesn’t even hesitate, just moves right into Ryan’s space and kisses him. Hard.
There is no reaction, not at first. Ryan stands stock still, hands hanging at his sides and eyes wide, but emotionless.
It’s not until Brendon backs up, just an inch away from all that ice, that Ryan finally moves. One hand behind Brendon’s head, the other at his hip, Ryan meets Brendon in the middle. And just like the first time, it’s not gentle.
They kiss, rough and bruising, teeth biting softly, and then harder. Ryan doesn’t apologize for the whimper he pulls out of Brendon, but pulls away just enough to push him backwards into the closest open door.
Brendon flails a little, desperately searching for a light switch and his soft cry of triumph quickly dissolves into a moan as Ryan reaches for his zipper.
“No.” He’s concentrating all his efforts on that one word and is suddenly bereft when Ryan completely freezes, hands paused millimeters from the waistband of Brendon’s underwear. Brendon pulls him a little closer and somehow shuffles them in a tiny half-circle, lips still attached to Ryan’s jaw, throat, collarbone. He turns them just enough to push Ryan against the nearest vertical surface. “You.”
The tension drains out of the shoulders beneath his hands as Ryan finally relaxes, leans back against the sink as Brendon drops to his knees. The floor is hard, cold underneath Brendon, but Ryan is warm, solid heat right in front of him.
Impatient as ever, Ryan shifts his hips once, twice, and Brendon refocuses. He’s got the button and zipper undone in no time, Ryan’s dark underwear all that’s stopping him now.
He’s never done this, only ever received once and that had been a total disaster. But Ryan is making soft, almost whimpering noises and moving a little, sort of restlessly.
“Come on.” And Brendon has never heard Ryan beg before. Never heard that desperate tone in his voice.
He doesn’t pull them all the way down, just pushes underwear and jeans to mid-thigh, effectively trapping Ryan between him and the sink at his back.
Even as Brendon’s licking his lips, preparing himself, Ryan’s hand is making its way towards his dick. Without thinking, Brendon swats it away, mumbles something about patience that makes Ryan snort, and wraps his own around the base. He gives one pull and smoothes some of Ryan’s precome into the skin.
Just as Ryan tenses up, starts to tell him off for messing around, Brendon takes the head into his mouth, sucks on it lightly and whatever Ryan was about to say turns into a moan.
Brendon looks up, meets Ryan’s gaze and sucks him in farther. And Ryan doesn’t say anything, nothing that sounds like real words anyway, but his hands thread through Brendon’s hair and grip hard. He’s not pushing, not even thrusting into Brendon’s mouth, just holding him there.
Brendon’s using his tongue, trying to coordinate some kind of movement, create any sort of rhythm, but it’s the sucking at the tip and short licks at Ryan’s slit that produce the most reaction.
Small bursts of sound and the tightening of his fingers in Brendon’s hair are all he has to go on, but he loves the sound of Ryan’s voice pleading for it, even without words.
He pulls away, slowly allows Ryan to fall out of his mouth and the reaction is exactly what he is looking for.
“No, no, no.” Ryan tries to pull him back, tugs at Brendon’s hair just a little harder than necessary and whines softly.
Brendon hushes him and licks slowly up the underside of his cock. He’s trying to take his time, make it good, but Ryan is starting to twitch under his hands.
“Brendon.” He knows it’s supposed to be a warning, something deep and dark, but it just sounds desperate. With a smile, Brendon takes Ryan back into his mouth, takes in as much as he can.
He swallows, just once, and savors the tiny whimpers that escape Ryan.
“Please, Bren. Just.” He sucks harder then, swallows again. Ryan’s thigh begins to tense up underneath his palm and Brendon tightens his fingers around his leg and his cock both.
With one twist of his wrist and a tiny moan around his cock, Ryan is coming. Brendon lets Ryan work himself through his climax, coaxes as many small thrusts and incoherent mutterings out of Ryan as he can. He continues sucking him softly, trying to catch everything.
Ryan lets him go with one last thrust and the smallest of sighs. Sitting back on his heels, Brendon can’t help but smile up at him.
“You know this doesn’t change anything.” And Brendon knows Ryan is going for that nasty disapproving tone, but he’s not buying a word of it. Instead, he kisses the sharp jut of Ryan’s hip, bites down hard enough to leave a mark, and gently tucks him back into his underwear and jeans.
“Sure, Ry. I know.” Brendon smiles, soft and satisfied. Standing, Brendon leans in and kisses him once, just at the corner of his mouth. “Ready to finish?”
Ryan coughs, kind of chokes, breath hot against Brendon’s cheek.
“Rehearsal, jeez.”
The look Brendon catches on Ryan’s face right before he shuts off the bathroom light is not exactly blissful, but it’s damn close.
In the living room, Ryan meets Spencer’s look with a grin and even taps Brent on the shoulder as he passes.