PatD Fic: Chasing the Monsoons, Ryan/Brendon
Title: Chasing the Monsoons
Rating: Soft-core NC-17
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon (mentions of past Ryan/Keltie)
Summary: Brendon's always had a problem filtering his thoughts, and when he get high, it gets a little worse, which is why he confesses his fear to Ryan.
Disclaimer: Don't sue. Ask the credit card company, I can't pay them either.
Author Notes: They smoke weed in this story. Just so you know, since it's one of those issues. Roughly 3,500 words.
Beta: sneaky_sena
Brendon Urie was born and raised in Las Vegas, Nevada, so in theory, he should be over his fear by now. In theory, a monsoon should be like any other rainstorm.
This, however, was all just theory.
In reality, monsoons make him wonder if he’s still small enough to crawl under his bed like when he was a little kid. He actually thinks maybe, since the king-sized bed that he got after he got famous is a lot higher than the little twin he had as a kid.
He also knows that he’s never actually cleaned under his bed, not in all the time he’s lived there, and he’s a little afraid of what’s there. Like spider corpses. And other dead insects. He’s going to hire a maid tomorrow to come clean his house.
The thunder cracks above his head, louder this time than before. It hasn’t started to rain yet, but it’s coming. He knows soon that the sky will just break open and all the rain will come down at once, and then it’ll be over, just as quickly as it came.
But, he doesn’t know how he’s going to make through the storm.
He crawls under the covers and makes himself a little tent with the blankets and his arm. It’s hot, but at least he won’t know if the lights flicker.
It’s also dark, but at least he has his cell phone.
Almost on cue, the screen lights up and announces that there is a text message from Ryan Ross Cell.
You ok?
Brendon scowls at his phone. Ryan is not supposed to know about the fear, but he maybe, probably, certainly told Ryan about it during a weed-induced snuggle fest after they’d come home from their last tour. Brendon hadn’t stood a chance. He has trouble filtering what he says as it is, let alone when he’s snuggled up in Ryan’s lap and Ryan’s high enough to let Brendon pet him.
Fine he types back.
Liar. Where r u?
Home
I know fuckr. Was driving near. Am here.
Brendon unwraps himself from the blankets slowly. “Ryan?”
“Brendon?” Ryan’s voice comes back to him. Brendon can tell he’s in the hallway, heading to his bedroom.
“I didn’t hear you come in.” He cringes again when the thunder cracks over head. “It hasn’t started to rain yet, has it?”
Ryan shakes his head. “Not yet, but it actually looks kind of bad. I didn’t want to get caught driving in it.”
“So you stopped by here because you didn’t want to drive?”
“If that makes you feel better,” Ryan says as he sits down on the edge of the bed. “Is that what you want to believe?”
“Yep,” Brendon says happily, but then jumps when the thunder cracks again. “Did you park in the garage?”
“Yeah. I stole an extra opener from your laundry room last time I was here.”
“That’s good,” Brendon says, lying down again. “I left it out for you anyway.”
Ryan lounges out next to him and retrieves a joint from his pocket. “You wanna smoke up?”
Brendon licks his lips. Yeah, he totally does, because it would calm him the fuck down and he wouldn’t be so insane about a little rain. He also totally does not want to, because invariably, when he and Ryan get stoned together with no one else around, he ends up in Ryan’s lap and then after Ryan leaves, he ends up jerking off until his dick is raw.
Ryan lights the joint and inhales without waiting for Brendon’s reply. He passes it over without a word.
Brendon takes it because, technically, he shouldn’t have to worry about the molesting of Ryan’s lap, because after all the times they’ve smoked together, Ryan must be well aware that Brendon’s going to end up there.
They share the joint wordlessly until it’s gone and Ryan flicks the roach into Brendon’s water glass.
“Hey, I was still drinking that,” Brendon grouses.
“No you weren’t.”
Ryan’s right. Ryan’s always right.
Brendon scoots closer on the bed, knowing that Ryan already expects it. “It’s raining,” he says.
Ryan just looks over at him. “Well, yeah, that started a little bit ago.”
“Do you think I’m weird?”
“Yes.”
Brendon scowls. “I meant about the rain thing.”
“Ah,” Ryan says. “I thought you meant in a generalized day-to-day sort of way.”
Brendon just makes a face at him.
“Your face is going to get stuck that way.”
Ryan’s wrong about that. Maybe it’s the only thing that Ryan’s ever wrong about.
Brendon manages to not crawl into Ryan’s lap for another three minutes. Well, three minutes if he rounds up. Probably. Ok, if he’s being honest, it wasn’t even really two minutes, but still, it was almost two minutes, and they were the longest two minutes ever.
“You smell good,” Brendon tells Ryan as he nuzzles into his chest. “Not so slutty anymore.”
“Yeah, well, I changed deodorant.”
“You don’t tell me these things,” Brendon moans. “You don’t tell me your secrets anymore.” He’s being a little melodramatic, and he knows it. If Ryan calls him on it later, he’ll just say it was the weed.
Ryan’s hand goes up to Brendon’s hair. “Keltie’s not real,” he tells him.
Brendon laughs. “I’ve met Keltie. Lots of times. Remember that one time I walked in on her going down on you? I’m really pretty much certain that Keltie is real.”
Ryan sighs. “She’s real, like in that she’s a person and she’s made of like atoms and shit.”
Brendon snuggles into Ryan’s side, because he knows now that Ryan’s going to go into some sort of rant-like tangent that’s going to go over his head anyway, so he might as well get comfortable while he’s being confused.
“And I thought she was real, like in real,” Ryan continues. “But I realized that I don’t think that anymore.”
“Maybe she blinded you with head,” Brendon suggests. “I’m pretty much going to believe anything if someone blows me first.”
“I think it was love. You know, I think she blinded me with love. Or the promise of love.” Ryan’s voice has gone deep and mellow and Brendon’s pretty sure that he wants to swim in it. If only swimming in someone’s voice was a possibility.
“And I think that I wanted to be in love,” Ryan continues. “So, I let myself think that she was real, but really, she doesn’t even have a real name. She’s a figment of something greater that doesn’t exist."
Brendon thinks that Ryan’s been reading too much Palahniuk again, but doesn’t say it, because if he does, Ryan will stop talking.
“I’ve never told anyone that,” Ryan tells him. “But I did break up with her.”
“No, you didn’t,” Brendon protests. “You talked about her at that interview, like, two days ago.” He’s not sure why he’s arguing. He never liked Keltie. Well, he liked her as a person. He just didn’t like that she got to fuck Ryan Ross and he didn’t.
“Yeah, we have an agreement. I talk about her like she’s my girlfriend so that her name gets out there and she doesn’t make a big deal about it when we really do break up.”
Brendon hopes it’s the weed that makes that statement sound so fucked up. “So, you’re not broken up?” Brendon is very confused as to what’s going on at this point. He’s pretty sure they’re broken up, except for how they’re not.
“We’re broken up,” Ryan tells him. “But only she and I know about it. Well, and now you.”
“Oh.” Brendon pretends like the conversation is making sense.
“I haven’t had sex in like, two weeks,” Ryan confesses.
“Dude, you went longer than that all the time when we were on tour.”
“Yeah, but there was phone sex. And the promise of sex in the future. And text sex. And internet sex. Now, there’s no sex.”
Brendon moves down so that he can rub his cheek against Ryan’s belly. It’s totally his favorite thing to do, and he tried it one time when Ryan wasn’t stoned and he got thrown off the couch.
Brendon used to think that Ryan only let him do it because Brendon liked it, but now he’s not so sure. Because last week, Ryan was stoned and Brendon wasn’t and Brendon never went to Ryan’s belly and Ryan had snapped at him all day the next day.
The snapping may have been related to the fact that Brendon accidentally spilled Red Bull all over Ryan’s copy of Fight Club, but Brendon prefers to think that it was because of the lack of face-on-belly rubbing.
Ryan’s still talking about something, but since he’s not talking about sex or anything Brendon finds interesting, Brendon’s decided to not listen. He’s just going to rub his cheek against Ryan’s belly, which is a lot softer than it used to be. Ryan’s a lot softer over all and that’s a good thing, Brendon decides. His face is rounder, and he doesn’t look so scared-mad all the time.
“What do you think?” Ryan asks him.
He tells Ryan about the softness and how much he likes it, which he’s a) sure wasn’t what Ryan was talking about and b) something he’s going to blame on the weed later.
Ryan just laughs. “I am getting a little pudgy.”
“Not pudgy!” Brendon exclaims. “No, you’re just more lovable now. You’re way more cuddly, and now more people think that, and then they get my cuddle time.” Brendon’s pouting into Ryan’s chest because he remembers that last week, he should have gotten way more cuddles, but they had gone to that roadie that Brendon now refuses to call anything other than Ted, even though Brendon knows for a fact that his name is Jeremy.
Ryan’s rubbing his arm now. “I should go soon.”
“Nah,” Brendon says, yawning. “We smoked all that weed.”
“This is true. I hadn’t intended on that part.”
“It was in your fucking pocket, dude.”
“I was at my dealers,” Ryan tells him. “He’s not far from here. The rest is in my car, and the joint was the freebie.”
“You only share free weed with me?”
“It was good free weed. Fucking hydroponic shit.”
“You love me, don’t you Ryan Ross?” Brendon hopes that Ryan doesn’t leave. He doesn’t like when Ryan drives stoned, which is almost never, and he’s really, really happy with his face on Ryan’s belly and he doesn’t ever want Ryan to leave, especially now that Keltie’s gone.
“Of course I do, Brendon,” Ryan says softly. “Why else would I be here, checking on you because there was a big, bad monsoon?”
“You were in the neighborhood, buying weed, and you didn’t want to get stuck in the rain.” Brendon thought at first that Ryan was actually checking up on him, and even though he’d fought Ryan on it, it’d made him happy. Now it seemed that Ryan coming during the storm was purely coincidental and that made him sad. Which he didn’t want to think about, because he didn’t like to be sad when he was pressed up against Ryan’s stomach.
“Yeah, I was.” Ryan kisses the top of Brendon’s head. “I also love the weather channel.”
Brendon’s not sure what the weather channel has to do with anything, but it’s about the same time that he notices that Ryan’s switched to the same laundry detergent as him, and then he falls asleep.
….
Ryan’s gone when he wakes up, but there is a note. Ryan always leaves notes, and Brendon’s not sure what he’s supposed to read into that, because none of his other friends leave notes. Generally, if his other friends get too wasted or high to drive, they pass out somewhere until they’re sober and then they go, and it doesn’t matter or not if Brendon’s passed out.
Come to think of it, his other friends don’t let him climb into their laps or nuzzle their bellies. Ok, Jon Walker does, but he doesn’t count because he’s Jon Walker and he’s made of awesome. And even that doesn’t count, because while Brendon does climb into his lap, he doesn’t feel the need to nuzzle his belly. Well, except for when Ryan’s holding out on him, and then he only does it while pretending it’s Ryan. He hopes this makes Ryan jealous.
Ryan’s note says that he looked like too much of a beautiful doll while sleeping to wake, and that he’ll see him later. Brendon doesn’t know if Ryan is being poetic, or if he wants to fuck, which means that even after all the time they’ve known each other, Ryan is still a fucking mystery.
Brendon jerks off in the shower. Twice. The water is cold by the time is done. And he’s chaffed. He resolves that it’s the last time he’s going to smoke up with Ryan alone.
….
Two days later, there’s another monsoon, and Ryan’s back. Brendon’s pretty sure that it’s not to see his dealer again, because while Ryan smokes a lot of weed, it’s not like he smokes enough that he needs to see his dealer every other day.
He’s certain that Ryan wasn’t seeing his dealer when instead of offering to get high, he suggests that they make a fort in Brendon’s living room and wait out the storm.
Brendon doesn’t bring it up though, because he doesn’t want to feel weak and pathetic like last time. This time he likes to pretend that Ryan was bored and just came by to see him because he’s awesome.
While they’re watching Finding Nemo in the fort, Ryan lets Brendon snuggle his stomach.
….
By the time the third monsoon hits, Brendon’s pretty sure that he’s gone insane. Because since the last monsoon, he’s been thinking about the fact that he totally got belly snuggles in while Ryan was completely sober.
He’s thinking about amping his fear up now.
But then again, last time Ryan had come over, he’d totally pretended that he wasn’t scared. Well, in that he’d only nearly pissed himself twice, when usually it was every time there was a burst of thunder.
When he’d watched the weather channel early that morning, he was more nervous about the advent of Ryan than the storm.
When Ryan came over the third time, Brendon was totally ready for him. Though, he had to stash the water glass that he’d been holding to the wall like a microphone before Ryan reclosed the garage door, and then he’d totally played it nonchalantly.
He’s totally nonchalant, right up until Ryan mentions how horny he is.
….
Brendon’s dick is still raw when the fourth monsoon comes. And by the fourth monsoon, he’s way more scared of the fact that he’s big buckets of crazy then he is of what any monsoon could ever do to him.
But Ryan shows up. Just before the rain, just like he has for every monsoon this season. Which should be impossible, since monsoons for the most part are unpredictable.
Ryan Ross is magic. And never wrong. Well, except about the Brendon’s face getting stuck like that thing.
They’re in Brendon’s bed again, and Brendon thinks that they’re going to get high, except for how they don’t. And Brendon thinks about wanting to rub his cheek against Ryan’s belly, but he doesn’t.
He doesn’t complain when Ryan sort of pushes him down there.
And he really doesn’t complain when Ryan spends the night.
Though the plan does seem flawed the next morning when Brendon wakes up, wrapped around Ryan. That parts good. The part where his dick is so hard that it hurts is not good.
Ryan yawns next to him and turns his head to face Brendon. “Morning,” he says, only vaguely awake. Brendon loves when Ryan half wakes up, just because he’s more cute and soft than normal.
“Morning,” Brendon replies. His voice is tight, but he hopes Ryan’s too asleep to notice that fact.
Ryan’s hand reaches up to touch Brendon’s face. “I love your stupid face,” he says and then he promptly falls back to sleep.
Brendon knows now that he has clearly lost his mind and is now hallucinating.
He starts to worry that his dick is going to fall off. Not because he’s having impure thoughts about Ryan, because really, he’s been having impure thoughts about Ryan for a while now, and God hasn’t stuck him down for it. He’s more worried that it’s going to fall off because of simultaneous over and under use. Though, Pete Wentz did tell him that it’s not really possible to die from sexual frustration.
Pete Wentz had to teach Brendon a lot of things about how his penis worked. Brendon really wishes he’d been allowed sex ed as a child.
Ryan shifts in his sleep, and now the erection that Brendon’s been so carefully trying to hide is rubbing up against Ryan’s thigh.
Brendon thinks about getting his phone and texting Pete. To find out if he’s going to die, or if his dick is going to fall off, but Ryan’s right there. And the good thing about Pete is that Pete’s never, ever told anyone about all of Brendon's penis-related questions. Not even about that time Brendon asked how to put a condom on.
In Brendon’s defense, he was only 18.
Ryan moves and that’s when Brendon notices it. "It" would be Ryan’s cock, and in theory Brendon knows how big it is because, well that one time he walked in on Keltie choking on it, and because they’ve been living in a bus or in closer quarters than that for about as long as Brendon has known Ryan.
Theory, of course has nothing to do with anything.
Brendon needs to get up, but Ryan is surprisingly heavier than he looks. Plus, he’s dead weight when he sleeps.
Brendon thinks he has it covered until Ryan smacks in him the face. It’s not a mean smack, it’s more that Ryan’s still half-asleep, and was probably aiming for Brendon’s chest, but Ryan has terrible aim when he’s not awake.
“Ryan,” Brendon starts. He’s trying to think of a lie as fast as he can.
“You’re such a fucking idiot,” Ryan tells him.
So far, Brendon’s been told that he has a stupid face and that he’s an idiot. It’s not even eight in the morning yet.
“It’s way too early for all the harassment I’ve been getting. I’m going to have to demand cuddles.” Even as the words are slipping out of his mouth, he regrets them. Because clearly, the cuddles are for later. Clearly.
Ryan apparently is not aware that Brendon meant later.
And Brendon still hasn’t gotten it yet. Not even when Ryan starts rutting against him. It’s because Brendon’s pretty sure he’s just had a stroke.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I hate the goddamn weather channel!” Ryan exclaims as he stops rutting.
It’s another weather channel reference that Brendon doesn’t get. Though, it all starts to make sense when there’s a hand around his cock and Brendon can see both of his own hands.
“That’s not my hand.”
Ryan stops jerking Brendon off for a moment and just looks at him. “No, it’s clearly my hand, and I’m trying to jerk you off because I’ve been trying to seduce you for days and you’re functionally retarded.”
“Oh.” Brendon looks up at the ceiling because clearly, he’s having the best, most intense wet dream ever, and he’s not going to fight it.
Ryan’s hand starts up again and Brendon’s pretty sure he’s going to come right away, and he’d be embarrassed about shooting his load off so soon, but it’s a wet dream, and what he’s really going to have to worry about is explaining to Ryan when he wakes up why he came in bed.
“Best wet dream ever,” Brendon breathes.
“Not a wet dream,” Ryan says before he bites down on Brendon’s neck. It’s hard enough that Brendon’s now completely sure that he’s not sleeping.
He also just came all over Ryan’s hand.
“Is this because you’re horny?”
Brendon’s pretty sure he’s about to get smacked.
Ryan wipes his dirty hand across the sheets. “If this was about my being horny, I would have just asked to fuck you. Instead, I’ve been following the fucking monsoons all around this goddamn town…”
“Oh…” it clicks. “The weather channel.”
Ryan licks at the spot where he bit. “Yeah, do you get it now?”
“Yeah, and I have to say, I’m glad that I’m not insane or having a stroke, because I was pretty worried about both those things.”
Ryan just puts a finger over Brendon’s mouth. “Shh.”
Rating: Soft-core NC-17
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon (mentions of past Ryan/Keltie)
Summary: Brendon's always had a problem filtering his thoughts, and when he get high, it gets a little worse, which is why he confesses his fear to Ryan.
Disclaimer: Don't sue. Ask the credit card company, I can't pay them either.
Author Notes: They smoke weed in this story. Just so you know, since it's one of those issues. Roughly 3,500 words.
Beta: sneaky_sena
Brendon Urie was born and raised in Las Vegas, Nevada, so in theory, he should be over his fear by now. In theory, a monsoon should be like any other rainstorm.
This, however, was all just theory.
In reality, monsoons make him wonder if he’s still small enough to crawl under his bed like when he was a little kid. He actually thinks maybe, since the king-sized bed that he got after he got famous is a lot higher than the little twin he had as a kid.
He also knows that he’s never actually cleaned under his bed, not in all the time he’s lived there, and he’s a little afraid of what’s there. Like spider corpses. And other dead insects. He’s going to hire a maid tomorrow to come clean his house.
The thunder cracks above his head, louder this time than before. It hasn’t started to rain yet, but it’s coming. He knows soon that the sky will just break open and all the rain will come down at once, and then it’ll be over, just as quickly as it came.
But, he doesn’t know how he’s going to make through the storm.
He crawls under the covers and makes himself a little tent with the blankets and his arm. It’s hot, but at least he won’t know if the lights flicker.
It’s also dark, but at least he has his cell phone.
Almost on cue, the screen lights up and announces that there is a text message from Ryan Ross Cell.
You ok?
Brendon scowls at his phone. Ryan is not supposed to know about the fear, but he maybe, probably, certainly told Ryan about it during a weed-induced snuggle fest after they’d come home from their last tour. Brendon hadn’t stood a chance. He has trouble filtering what he says as it is, let alone when he’s snuggled up in Ryan’s lap and Ryan’s high enough to let Brendon pet him.
Fine he types back.
Liar. Where r u?
Home
I know fuckr. Was driving near. Am here.
Brendon unwraps himself from the blankets slowly. “Ryan?”
“Brendon?” Ryan’s voice comes back to him. Brendon can tell he’s in the hallway, heading to his bedroom.
“I didn’t hear you come in.” He cringes again when the thunder cracks over head. “It hasn’t started to rain yet, has it?”
Ryan shakes his head. “Not yet, but it actually looks kind of bad. I didn’t want to get caught driving in it.”
“So you stopped by here because you didn’t want to drive?”
“If that makes you feel better,” Ryan says as he sits down on the edge of the bed. “Is that what you want to believe?”
“Yep,” Brendon says happily, but then jumps when the thunder cracks again. “Did you park in the garage?”
“Yeah. I stole an extra opener from your laundry room last time I was here.”
“That’s good,” Brendon says, lying down again. “I left it out for you anyway.”
Ryan lounges out next to him and retrieves a joint from his pocket. “You wanna smoke up?”
Brendon licks his lips. Yeah, he totally does, because it would calm him the fuck down and he wouldn’t be so insane about a little rain. He also totally does not want to, because invariably, when he and Ryan get stoned together with no one else around, he ends up in Ryan’s lap and then after Ryan leaves, he ends up jerking off until his dick is raw.
Ryan lights the joint and inhales without waiting for Brendon’s reply. He passes it over without a word.
Brendon takes it because, technically, he shouldn’t have to worry about the molesting of Ryan’s lap, because after all the times they’ve smoked together, Ryan must be well aware that Brendon’s going to end up there.
They share the joint wordlessly until it’s gone and Ryan flicks the roach into Brendon’s water glass.
“Hey, I was still drinking that,” Brendon grouses.
“No you weren’t.”
Ryan’s right. Ryan’s always right.
Brendon scoots closer on the bed, knowing that Ryan already expects it. “It’s raining,” he says.
Ryan just looks over at him. “Well, yeah, that started a little bit ago.”
“Do you think I’m weird?”
“Yes.”
Brendon scowls. “I meant about the rain thing.”
“Ah,” Ryan says. “I thought you meant in a generalized day-to-day sort of way.”
Brendon just makes a face at him.
“Your face is going to get stuck that way.”
Ryan’s wrong about that. Maybe it’s the only thing that Ryan’s ever wrong about.
Brendon manages to not crawl into Ryan’s lap for another three minutes. Well, three minutes if he rounds up. Probably. Ok, if he’s being honest, it wasn’t even really two minutes, but still, it was almost two minutes, and they were the longest two minutes ever.
“You smell good,” Brendon tells Ryan as he nuzzles into his chest. “Not so slutty anymore.”
“Yeah, well, I changed deodorant.”
“You don’t tell me these things,” Brendon moans. “You don’t tell me your secrets anymore.” He’s being a little melodramatic, and he knows it. If Ryan calls him on it later, he’ll just say it was the weed.
Ryan’s hand goes up to Brendon’s hair. “Keltie’s not real,” he tells him.
Brendon laughs. “I’ve met Keltie. Lots of times. Remember that one time I walked in on her going down on you? I’m really pretty much certain that Keltie is real.”
Ryan sighs. “She’s real, like in that she’s a person and she’s made of like atoms and shit.”
Brendon snuggles into Ryan’s side, because he knows now that Ryan’s going to go into some sort of rant-like tangent that’s going to go over his head anyway, so he might as well get comfortable while he’s being confused.
“And I thought she was real, like in real,” Ryan continues. “But I realized that I don’t think that anymore.”
“Maybe she blinded you with head,” Brendon suggests. “I’m pretty much going to believe anything if someone blows me first.”
“I think it was love. You know, I think she blinded me with love. Or the promise of love.” Ryan’s voice has gone deep and mellow and Brendon’s pretty sure that he wants to swim in it. If only swimming in someone’s voice was a possibility.
“And I think that I wanted to be in love,” Ryan continues. “So, I let myself think that she was real, but really, she doesn’t even have a real name. She’s a figment of something greater that doesn’t exist."
Brendon thinks that Ryan’s been reading too much Palahniuk again, but doesn’t say it, because if he does, Ryan will stop talking.
“I’ve never told anyone that,” Ryan tells him. “But I did break up with her.”
“No, you didn’t,” Brendon protests. “You talked about her at that interview, like, two days ago.” He’s not sure why he’s arguing. He never liked Keltie. Well, he liked her as a person. He just didn’t like that she got to fuck Ryan Ross and he didn’t.
“Yeah, we have an agreement. I talk about her like she’s my girlfriend so that her name gets out there and she doesn’t make a big deal about it when we really do break up.”
Brendon hopes it’s the weed that makes that statement sound so fucked up. “So, you’re not broken up?” Brendon is very confused as to what’s going on at this point. He’s pretty sure they’re broken up, except for how they’re not.
“We’re broken up,” Ryan tells him. “But only she and I know about it. Well, and now you.”
“Oh.” Brendon pretends like the conversation is making sense.
“I haven’t had sex in like, two weeks,” Ryan confesses.
“Dude, you went longer than that all the time when we were on tour.”
“Yeah, but there was phone sex. And the promise of sex in the future. And text sex. And internet sex. Now, there’s no sex.”
Brendon moves down so that he can rub his cheek against Ryan’s belly. It’s totally his favorite thing to do, and he tried it one time when Ryan wasn’t stoned and he got thrown off the couch.
Brendon used to think that Ryan only let him do it because Brendon liked it, but now he’s not so sure. Because last week, Ryan was stoned and Brendon wasn’t and Brendon never went to Ryan’s belly and Ryan had snapped at him all day the next day.
The snapping may have been related to the fact that Brendon accidentally spilled Red Bull all over Ryan’s copy of Fight Club, but Brendon prefers to think that it was because of the lack of face-on-belly rubbing.
Ryan’s still talking about something, but since he’s not talking about sex or anything Brendon finds interesting, Brendon’s decided to not listen. He’s just going to rub his cheek against Ryan’s belly, which is a lot softer than it used to be. Ryan’s a lot softer over all and that’s a good thing, Brendon decides. His face is rounder, and he doesn’t look so scared-mad all the time.
“What do you think?” Ryan asks him.
He tells Ryan about the softness and how much he likes it, which he’s a) sure wasn’t what Ryan was talking about and b) something he’s going to blame on the weed later.
Ryan just laughs. “I am getting a little pudgy.”
“Not pudgy!” Brendon exclaims. “No, you’re just more lovable now. You’re way more cuddly, and now more people think that, and then they get my cuddle time.” Brendon’s pouting into Ryan’s chest because he remembers that last week, he should have gotten way more cuddles, but they had gone to that roadie that Brendon now refuses to call anything other than Ted, even though Brendon knows for a fact that his name is Jeremy.
Ryan’s rubbing his arm now. “I should go soon.”
“Nah,” Brendon says, yawning. “We smoked all that weed.”
“This is true. I hadn’t intended on that part.”
“It was in your fucking pocket, dude.”
“I was at my dealers,” Ryan tells him. “He’s not far from here. The rest is in my car, and the joint was the freebie.”
“You only share free weed with me?”
“It was good free weed. Fucking hydroponic shit.”
“You love me, don’t you Ryan Ross?” Brendon hopes that Ryan doesn’t leave. He doesn’t like when Ryan drives stoned, which is almost never, and he’s really, really happy with his face on Ryan’s belly and he doesn’t ever want Ryan to leave, especially now that Keltie’s gone.
“Of course I do, Brendon,” Ryan says softly. “Why else would I be here, checking on you because there was a big, bad monsoon?”
“You were in the neighborhood, buying weed, and you didn’t want to get stuck in the rain.” Brendon thought at first that Ryan was actually checking up on him, and even though he’d fought Ryan on it, it’d made him happy. Now it seemed that Ryan coming during the storm was purely coincidental and that made him sad. Which he didn’t want to think about, because he didn’t like to be sad when he was pressed up against Ryan’s stomach.
“Yeah, I was.” Ryan kisses the top of Brendon’s head. “I also love the weather channel.”
Brendon’s not sure what the weather channel has to do with anything, but it’s about the same time that he notices that Ryan’s switched to the same laundry detergent as him, and then he falls asleep.
….
Ryan’s gone when he wakes up, but there is a note. Ryan always leaves notes, and Brendon’s not sure what he’s supposed to read into that, because none of his other friends leave notes. Generally, if his other friends get too wasted or high to drive, they pass out somewhere until they’re sober and then they go, and it doesn’t matter or not if Brendon’s passed out.
Come to think of it, his other friends don’t let him climb into their laps or nuzzle their bellies. Ok, Jon Walker does, but he doesn’t count because he’s Jon Walker and he’s made of awesome. And even that doesn’t count, because while Brendon does climb into his lap, he doesn’t feel the need to nuzzle his belly. Well, except for when Ryan’s holding out on him, and then he only does it while pretending it’s Ryan. He hopes this makes Ryan jealous.
Ryan’s note says that he looked like too much of a beautiful doll while sleeping to wake, and that he’ll see him later. Brendon doesn’t know if Ryan is being poetic, or if he wants to fuck, which means that even after all the time they’ve known each other, Ryan is still a fucking mystery.
Brendon jerks off in the shower. Twice. The water is cold by the time is done. And he’s chaffed. He resolves that it’s the last time he’s going to smoke up with Ryan alone.
….
Two days later, there’s another monsoon, and Ryan’s back. Brendon’s pretty sure that it’s not to see his dealer again, because while Ryan smokes a lot of weed, it’s not like he smokes enough that he needs to see his dealer every other day.
He’s certain that Ryan wasn’t seeing his dealer when instead of offering to get high, he suggests that they make a fort in Brendon’s living room and wait out the storm.
Brendon doesn’t bring it up though, because he doesn’t want to feel weak and pathetic like last time. This time he likes to pretend that Ryan was bored and just came by to see him because he’s awesome.
While they’re watching Finding Nemo in the fort, Ryan lets Brendon snuggle his stomach.
….
By the time the third monsoon hits, Brendon’s pretty sure that he’s gone insane. Because since the last monsoon, he’s been thinking about the fact that he totally got belly snuggles in while Ryan was completely sober.
He’s thinking about amping his fear up now.
But then again, last time Ryan had come over, he’d totally pretended that he wasn’t scared. Well, in that he’d only nearly pissed himself twice, when usually it was every time there was a burst of thunder.
When he’d watched the weather channel early that morning, he was more nervous about the advent of Ryan than the storm.
When Ryan came over the third time, Brendon was totally ready for him. Though, he had to stash the water glass that he’d been holding to the wall like a microphone before Ryan reclosed the garage door, and then he’d totally played it nonchalantly.
He’s totally nonchalant, right up until Ryan mentions how horny he is.
….
Brendon’s dick is still raw when the fourth monsoon comes. And by the fourth monsoon, he’s way more scared of the fact that he’s big buckets of crazy then he is of what any monsoon could ever do to him.
But Ryan shows up. Just before the rain, just like he has for every monsoon this season. Which should be impossible, since monsoons for the most part are unpredictable.
Ryan Ross is magic. And never wrong. Well, except about the Brendon’s face getting stuck like that thing.
They’re in Brendon’s bed again, and Brendon thinks that they’re going to get high, except for how they don’t. And Brendon thinks about wanting to rub his cheek against Ryan’s belly, but he doesn’t.
He doesn’t complain when Ryan sort of pushes him down there.
And he really doesn’t complain when Ryan spends the night.
Though the plan does seem flawed the next morning when Brendon wakes up, wrapped around Ryan. That parts good. The part where his dick is so hard that it hurts is not good.
Ryan yawns next to him and turns his head to face Brendon. “Morning,” he says, only vaguely awake. Brendon loves when Ryan half wakes up, just because he’s more cute and soft than normal.
“Morning,” Brendon replies. His voice is tight, but he hopes Ryan’s too asleep to notice that fact.
Ryan’s hand reaches up to touch Brendon’s face. “I love your stupid face,” he says and then he promptly falls back to sleep.
Brendon knows now that he has clearly lost his mind and is now hallucinating.
He starts to worry that his dick is going to fall off. Not because he’s having impure thoughts about Ryan, because really, he’s been having impure thoughts about Ryan for a while now, and God hasn’t stuck him down for it. He’s more worried that it’s going to fall off because of simultaneous over and under use. Though, Pete Wentz did tell him that it’s not really possible to die from sexual frustration.
Pete Wentz had to teach Brendon a lot of things about how his penis worked. Brendon really wishes he’d been allowed sex ed as a child.
Ryan shifts in his sleep, and now the erection that Brendon’s been so carefully trying to hide is rubbing up against Ryan’s thigh.
Brendon thinks about getting his phone and texting Pete. To find out if he’s going to die, or if his dick is going to fall off, but Ryan’s right there. And the good thing about Pete is that Pete’s never, ever told anyone about all of Brendon's penis-related questions. Not even about that time Brendon asked how to put a condom on.
In Brendon’s defense, he was only 18.
Ryan moves and that’s when Brendon notices it. "It" would be Ryan’s cock, and in theory Brendon knows how big it is because, well that one time he walked in on Keltie choking on it, and because they’ve been living in a bus or in closer quarters than that for about as long as Brendon has known Ryan.
Theory, of course has nothing to do with anything.
Brendon needs to get up, but Ryan is surprisingly heavier than he looks. Plus, he’s dead weight when he sleeps.
Brendon thinks he has it covered until Ryan smacks in him the face. It’s not a mean smack, it’s more that Ryan’s still half-asleep, and was probably aiming for Brendon’s chest, but Ryan has terrible aim when he’s not awake.
“Ryan,” Brendon starts. He’s trying to think of a lie as fast as he can.
“You’re such a fucking idiot,” Ryan tells him.
So far, Brendon’s been told that he has a stupid face and that he’s an idiot. It’s not even eight in the morning yet.
“It’s way too early for all the harassment I’ve been getting. I’m going to have to demand cuddles.” Even as the words are slipping out of his mouth, he regrets them. Because clearly, the cuddles are for later. Clearly.
Ryan apparently is not aware that Brendon meant later.
And Brendon still hasn’t gotten it yet. Not even when Ryan starts rutting against him. It’s because Brendon’s pretty sure he’s just had a stroke.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I hate the goddamn weather channel!” Ryan exclaims as he stops rutting.
It’s another weather channel reference that Brendon doesn’t get. Though, it all starts to make sense when there’s a hand around his cock and Brendon can see both of his own hands.
“That’s not my hand.”
Ryan stops jerking Brendon off for a moment and just looks at him. “No, it’s clearly my hand, and I’m trying to jerk you off because I’ve been trying to seduce you for days and you’re functionally retarded.”
“Oh.” Brendon looks up at the ceiling because clearly, he’s having the best, most intense wet dream ever, and he’s not going to fight it.
Ryan’s hand starts up again and Brendon’s pretty sure he’s going to come right away, and he’d be embarrassed about shooting his load off so soon, but it’s a wet dream, and what he’s really going to have to worry about is explaining to Ryan when he wakes up why he came in bed.
“Best wet dream ever,” Brendon breathes.
“Not a wet dream,” Ryan says before he bites down on Brendon’s neck. It’s hard enough that Brendon’s now completely sure that he’s not sleeping.
He also just came all over Ryan’s hand.
“Is this because you’re horny?”
Brendon’s pretty sure he’s about to get smacked.
Ryan wipes his dirty hand across the sheets. “If this was about my being horny, I would have just asked to fuck you. Instead, I’ve been following the fucking monsoons all around this goddamn town…”
“Oh…” it clicks. “The weather channel.”
Ryan licks at the spot where he bit. “Yeah, do you get it now?”
“Yeah, and I have to say, I’m glad that I’m not insane or having a stroke, because I was pretty worried about both those things.”
Ryan just puts a finger over Brendon’s mouth. “Shh.”