(no subject)
Title: Only Blue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jon/Brendon/Ryan
Summary: Actually, Ryan amends to himself, blue is not just the paint of the day, it is the paint of his entire career as an amateur painter.
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, the situations are fictional.
Author Notes: I wrote Panic! slash for the first time at
slashatthedisco and loved it. This is my first fic of my own for my prompt table at
bandom_100 prompt 001. Blue
Author's Note 2: I'm writing 100 Brendon/Jon/Ryan based fics. If there's something you want, sexual or not, send me a message, seriously.
Ryan takes up painting to help himself relax.
He think’s he’s terrible, honestly, but he does enjoy the sense of relief that floods through him every single time he picks up a brush. Relief, rest, floods out of his blood through the brush tip, and onto the white canvas through his paints. Ryan always paints with his eyes half closed, leaning against the expensive easel he bought himself, perched with one foot against a small footstool. The paint of the day is blue.
Actually, Ryan amends to himself, blue is not just the paint of the day, it is the paint of his entire career as an amateur painter. Every painting so far had featured several swirling shades of the color. Ryan likes mixing blues, like on the painting before him, where a skyline lay above heavy dark blue buildings. He bites down hard on his lower lip as he tries to get the shades just right. Hard and dark blue on the buildings versus a light airy color on the sky.
“Yes ”
Ryan makes a quiet declaration, as things finally start to look right.
He stares at it for a good ten minutes, before deciding to leave this one alone for the night. It’s well past two in the morning and he needs some sleep.
~
It’s three thirty of that same morning, when Brendon walks into the front room of their suite, and sees the unfinished painting with it’s back turned to him. Ryan doesn’t mind when the others see his paintings, but to Brendon it always seems like he’s making a feeble attempt to hide them.
Brendon turns it around and gasps aloud at the beautiful skyline painted in front of him. He knows what Ryan thinks of his art, but Brendon thinks it’s really beautiful. In fact, he knows that the band’s brilliant lyricist has only found one more amazing talent. Something else he’s freakin’ brilliant at. Brendon kind of worships Ryan at times.
Brendon continues to watch the painting, pouting things out to himself. “The birds...” he mumbles in an awestruck voice, eyes wide.
He hears the steps behind them, but does not register them until there are arms wrapped around his waist and a head nestled against his shoulder. It’s a solid, warm weight against him, and it makes him sigh softly. He turns his head to the side and sees Jon staring at the painting.
“Did I wake you up?” Brendon asks.
Jon makes a small sound, a low grunting noise. “Mmhmm,” he mumbles sleepily into Brendons’ neck. “I ‘ready told ya that I wake up when either of you just up and leave me.” Brendon looks back at Jon apologetically, his heart pumping slightly more furiously at the words. He’s sure, however, that the bassist doesn’t mind that much, as he’s breathing against Brendon’s neck, nuzzling up close, eyes still on Ryan’s painting.
“That’s really good,” he murmurs. Brendon tilts his head slightly, giggling at the feel of Jon’s lips brushing along his neck with every word. He nods enthusiastically in agreement with his boyfriend.
“Yeah I hate how Ryan’s always criticizing them. They’re...”
Jon grins. “Perfect like Ryan?”
Brendon laughs loudly at this. Jon is making fun of the obsession they both have. They both love Ryan, no, they adore him, and sometimes it seems like an obsessive love. Ever since the walls had fallen away, and all of the fantasies had become real, Brendon still obsessed over Ryan. Jon did too. They considered him a genius, an angel, all in between.
“Yeah J, perfect like Ryan of course. It’s just that it’s so...”
Jon eases up on the tight hold he has on the younger man. “So what?”
Dark eyes are busy studying the painting in front of him. Jon squeezes Brendon’s hand. “Blue,” Brendon answers blankly. “Ever notice how all of Ryan’s paintings are blue?”
A light shake of Jon’s head. “They’re not all...”
Brendon gently jerks free from the large man’s grip and opens up the big drawer where Ryan stashed away his old paintings. Jon is greeted by an array of blue birds, blue flowers, a blue clown crying darker blue tears.
“Okay, then. They are.”
Brendon looks up and nods knowingly. “Joooonnn...I hope he’s okay. I can’t stand thinking he might be depressed again or something He hasn’t acted it, but you-you never know, the breakup, coming into us so fast. Maybe he’s..”
“Aww, Bren you always think the worst. Maybe he just likes the color.”
Brendon turns to Jon, pouting heavily, making the older man want to rethink the words. “Okay you and I both know he prefers purple and gold and...and Ryan colors ”
~
“You two could just ask instead of standing there like idiots at nearly four in the morning.”
Both men turn to see Ryan standing in his pajamas in front of them, hands on his slender hips, glaring. Yet behind the Ryan glare of doom, there is also a slightly amused smile. He yawns and brushes a hand through his matted hair. “You know I don’t like it when you contemplate my sanity without me.”
“We weren’t...” Jon says, but Brendon cuts him off in that innocent voice of his.
“Why is it the only color? Ryan, are you...are you sad? Oh man, if you are I’ll kill someone. Someone’s gonna pay for hurting my Ry-"
Jon and Ryan both burst out laughing at Brendon’s sudden fit. He doesn’t find this amusing. “Fine, let someone else worry about you.” He glares at them, and then adds as an afterthought, usually gentle dark eyes going hard. “I swear, stop making fun of me or no sex for either of you for a week.”
Ryan laughs at this and grabs Brendon by the wrist, a gentle stroke over his pulse to calm him. “Hey babe, let’ s not get mean now. Plus, you know we could take care of each other...and you’d be in trouble.” Ryan winks, good natured teasing.
“Then tell me ” Brendon is begging and it reduces Ryan to a fit of laughter. He lets his hand on Brendon’s wrist slide up his forearm.
“Well go ahead and spill,” Jon urges to Ryan, an amused smile playing on his face. It was the same amused smile that seemed to dance across his features whenever Brendon did something equally childish on stage. It was striking and contemplative, a lot like Jon himself.
Ryan walks backwards until he finds the sofa and sits down, dragging Brendon down with him. Jon watches with interest as Brendon struggles to escape from Ryan’s tight hold, pout on his face. Jon laughs hard, until Ryan gives him a look.
Ooh, it’s that look.
“Over here Walker, now.”
Jon relents to the Power of Ryan Ross and sits down on Brendon’s other side.
Ryan leans up against Brendon, a content smile on his face as curls up against the singer. “Okay, now that I’m comfortable, I’ll try and explain myself to you.”
“Get trying then,” Brendon says huffily. Ryan laughs and scoots up to kiss the other’s cheek lightly.
Ryan looks quiet and thoughtful. He’s a writer, not a talker. “Well, you guys are getting it all wrong. I have been using all blue paints, it is how I feel, but you know, colors have other meanings.”
Neither responds.
Ryan sighs and reaches across Brendon, taking Jon’s hand in his. “At least my art book says they do,” Ryan adds with a laugh. “I’m such a beginner. It says that blue does symbolize sadness. You both know I’ve been a little...er...down and out lately. But shades of blue are also the color to symbolize freedom. I’m really feeling free right now so it makes sense."
Ryan rarely talks that much about himself.
“Free?” Jon’s voice, curious, happy Ryan has talked about himself.
“Yeah. How could I not be? I’m happy, out of crappy relationships with girls who don’t give a damn, and I’m with you guys. In this.”
“This?” Brendon waves an arm around laughing.
“Yeah,” Ryan says, his eyes seeming to light up with the words. He smiles, a huge smile that just seems to light up his face. You can almost hear Brendon and Jon both gasping. They love the infrequent Ryan Ross smile, and can’t get enough of it. “You two. Everything.”
Jon is looking down but there is the faintest smile playing on his face. Brendon looks proud too. Ryan scoots close against Brendon and looks to Jon, who instantly obeys and gets closer.
“We’re really glad,” Jon’s voice, weak over what Ryan had said.
“This is the life.”
Ryan smiles. They’re all so happy and can’t stop smiling, and...
“It’s four o’clock, and none of us are getting to sleep anyway,” Brendon says, a suggestive grin crossing his face.
~
Ryan starts painting in red the next day.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jon/Brendon/Ryan
Summary: Actually, Ryan amends to himself, blue is not just the paint of the day, it is the paint of his entire career as an amateur painter.
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, the situations are fictional.
Author Notes: I wrote Panic! slash for the first time at
slashatthedisco and loved it. This is my first fic of my own for my prompt table at
bandom_100 prompt 001. Blue
Author's Note 2: I'm writing 100 Brendon/Jon/Ryan based fics. If there's something you want, sexual or not, send me a message, seriously.
Ryan takes up painting to help himself relax.
He think’s he’s terrible, honestly, but he does enjoy the sense of relief that floods through him every single time he picks up a brush. Relief, rest, floods out of his blood through the brush tip, and onto the white canvas through his paints. Ryan always paints with his eyes half closed, leaning against the expensive easel he bought himself, perched with one foot against a small footstool. The paint of the day is blue.
Actually, Ryan amends to himself, blue is not just the paint of the day, it is the paint of his entire career as an amateur painter. Every painting so far had featured several swirling shades of the color. Ryan likes mixing blues, like on the painting before him, where a skyline lay above heavy dark blue buildings. He bites down hard on his lower lip as he tries to get the shades just right. Hard and dark blue on the buildings versus a light airy color on the sky.
“Yes ”
Ryan makes a quiet declaration, as things finally start to look right.
He stares at it for a good ten minutes, before deciding to leave this one alone for the night. It’s well past two in the morning and he needs some sleep.
~
It’s three thirty of that same morning, when Brendon walks into the front room of their suite, and sees the unfinished painting with it’s back turned to him. Ryan doesn’t mind when the others see his paintings, but to Brendon it always seems like he’s making a feeble attempt to hide them.
Brendon turns it around and gasps aloud at the beautiful skyline painted in front of him. He knows what Ryan thinks of his art, but Brendon thinks it’s really beautiful. In fact, he knows that the band’s brilliant lyricist has only found one more amazing talent. Something else he’s freakin’ brilliant at. Brendon kind of worships Ryan at times.
Brendon continues to watch the painting, pouting things out to himself. “The birds...” he mumbles in an awestruck voice, eyes wide.
He hears the steps behind them, but does not register them until there are arms wrapped around his waist and a head nestled against his shoulder. It’s a solid, warm weight against him, and it makes him sigh softly. He turns his head to the side and sees Jon staring at the painting.
“Did I wake you up?” Brendon asks.
Jon makes a small sound, a low grunting noise. “Mmhmm,” he mumbles sleepily into Brendons’ neck. “I ‘ready told ya that I wake up when either of you just up and leave me.” Brendon looks back at Jon apologetically, his heart pumping slightly more furiously at the words. He’s sure, however, that the bassist doesn’t mind that much, as he’s breathing against Brendon’s neck, nuzzling up close, eyes still on Ryan’s painting.
“That’s really good,” he murmurs. Brendon tilts his head slightly, giggling at the feel of Jon’s lips brushing along his neck with every word. He nods enthusiastically in agreement with his boyfriend.
“Yeah I hate how Ryan’s always criticizing them. They’re...”
Jon grins. “Perfect like Ryan?”
Brendon laughs loudly at this. Jon is making fun of the obsession they both have. They both love Ryan, no, they adore him, and sometimes it seems like an obsessive love. Ever since the walls had fallen away, and all of the fantasies had become real, Brendon still obsessed over Ryan. Jon did too. They considered him a genius, an angel, all in between.
“Yeah J, perfect like Ryan of course. It’s just that it’s so...”
Jon eases up on the tight hold he has on the younger man. “So what?”
Dark eyes are busy studying the painting in front of him. Jon squeezes Brendon’s hand. “Blue,” Brendon answers blankly. “Ever notice how all of Ryan’s paintings are blue?”
A light shake of Jon’s head. “They’re not all...”
Brendon gently jerks free from the large man’s grip and opens up the big drawer where Ryan stashed away his old paintings. Jon is greeted by an array of blue birds, blue flowers, a blue clown crying darker blue tears.
“Okay, then. They are.”
Brendon looks up and nods knowingly. “Joooonnn...I hope he’s okay. I can’t stand thinking he might be depressed again or something He hasn’t acted it, but you-you never know, the breakup, coming into us so fast. Maybe he’s..”
“Aww, Bren you always think the worst. Maybe he just likes the color.”
Brendon turns to Jon, pouting heavily, making the older man want to rethink the words. “Okay you and I both know he prefers purple and gold and...and Ryan colors ”
~
“You two could just ask instead of standing there like idiots at nearly four in the morning.”
Both men turn to see Ryan standing in his pajamas in front of them, hands on his slender hips, glaring. Yet behind the Ryan glare of doom, there is also a slightly amused smile. He yawns and brushes a hand through his matted hair. “You know I don’t like it when you contemplate my sanity without me.”
“We weren’t...” Jon says, but Brendon cuts him off in that innocent voice of his.
“Why is it the only color? Ryan, are you...are you sad? Oh man, if you are I’ll kill someone. Someone’s gonna pay for hurting my Ry-"
Jon and Ryan both burst out laughing at Brendon’s sudden fit. He doesn’t find this amusing. “Fine, let someone else worry about you.” He glares at them, and then adds as an afterthought, usually gentle dark eyes going hard. “I swear, stop making fun of me or no sex for either of you for a week.”
Ryan laughs at this and grabs Brendon by the wrist, a gentle stroke over his pulse to calm him. “Hey babe, let’ s not get mean now. Plus, you know we could take care of each other...and you’d be in trouble.” Ryan winks, good natured teasing.
“Then tell me ” Brendon is begging and it reduces Ryan to a fit of laughter. He lets his hand on Brendon’s wrist slide up his forearm.
“Well go ahead and spill,” Jon urges to Ryan, an amused smile playing on his face. It was the same amused smile that seemed to dance across his features whenever Brendon did something equally childish on stage. It was striking and contemplative, a lot like Jon himself.
Ryan walks backwards until he finds the sofa and sits down, dragging Brendon down with him. Jon watches with interest as Brendon struggles to escape from Ryan’s tight hold, pout on his face. Jon laughs hard, until Ryan gives him a look.
Ooh, it’s that look.
“Over here Walker, now.”
Jon relents to the Power of Ryan Ross and sits down on Brendon’s other side.
Ryan leans up against Brendon, a content smile on his face as curls up against the singer. “Okay, now that I’m comfortable, I’ll try and explain myself to you.”
“Get trying then,” Brendon says huffily. Ryan laughs and scoots up to kiss the other’s cheek lightly.
Ryan looks quiet and thoughtful. He’s a writer, not a talker. “Well, you guys are getting it all wrong. I have been using all blue paints, it is how I feel, but you know, colors have other meanings.”
Neither responds.
Ryan sighs and reaches across Brendon, taking Jon’s hand in his. “At least my art book says they do,” Ryan adds with a laugh. “I’m such a beginner. It says that blue does symbolize sadness. You both know I’ve been a little...er...down and out lately. But shades of blue are also the color to symbolize freedom. I’m really feeling free right now so it makes sense."
Ryan rarely talks that much about himself.
“Free?” Jon’s voice, curious, happy Ryan has talked about himself.
“Yeah. How could I not be? I’m happy, out of crappy relationships with girls who don’t give a damn, and I’m with you guys. In this.”
“This?” Brendon waves an arm around laughing.
“Yeah,” Ryan says, his eyes seeming to light up with the words. He smiles, a huge smile that just seems to light up his face. You can almost hear Brendon and Jon both gasping. They love the infrequent Ryan Ross smile, and can’t get enough of it. “You two. Everything.”
Jon is looking down but there is the faintest smile playing on his face. Brendon looks proud too. Ryan scoots close against Brendon and looks to Jon, who instantly obeys and gets closer.
“We’re really glad,” Jon’s voice, weak over what Ryan had said.
“This is the life.”
Ryan smiles. They’re all so happy and can’t stop smiling, and...
“It’s four o’clock, and none of us are getting to sleep anyway,” Brendon says, a suggestive grin crossing his face.
~
Ryan starts painting in red the next day.