FIC POST;
this one time, at band camp...
(or; save a drum, bang a drum major)
Brendon/Ryan, AU, NC-17, 6700~ words
Spencer's best friend is falling for the guy they used to refer to as "the annoying kid from All-State".
Special thanks to torturemysoul for giving this a gander and telling me it didn't suck, to onmycrew for the awesome beta make doubly sure that it didn't suck, and to wishpaper for listening to me bitch for months about this, and for giving it barista authenticity.
To say that Brendon is excited would be an understatement. Ever since he started with his high school marching band, he's wanted to be a drum major. Now, going into his senior year, he's been chosen to be one, and will be going to the drum major camp being held at UNLV.
Normally he's there for the usual symphonic percussion camp, but he's always commuted. His parents don’t feel that band camp is the proper surroundings for him to be in around the clock, not with so many non-Mormons in attendance. However, after weeks of begging, pleading, and patented Urie puppy-dog eyes, he finally convinced his parents to let him stay, promising to pray every day, to call them every day as well, and to make sure that he follows the teachings of the Book of Mormon, despite being around all sorts of temptation.
(The temptation is part of the reason he wants to stay, though. Really, what’s the harm in drinking a Coke now and again? Sure, it messes with his ADHD, but that's what medication is for, right?)
Either way, he’s headed for a whole week of marching, conducting classes, leadership workshops, and showmanship. Plus, Brendon's best friend, Jon, is working at the Starbucks in the Student Union throughout the summer, so he'll get to spend time with him as well. It’s going to be the best week ever.
--
Spencer Smith is annoyed.
It’s not even officially the first day of band camp - well, drum major camp for him - and he already wants to strangle his roommate. When Spencer had arrived with his things, it already looked like a tornado had hit the room, and they were taking up much more than their fair share of the closet. Do they not understand that Spencer needs space? He'd packed ten pairs of shoes alone, and that's just because his mother made him get rid of some because they were taking up too much room. (He'd snuck another two pairs in his backpack, but what his mother didn't know wouldn't hurt him.)
Kicking aside discarded sneakers and articles of clothing, nose wrinkled in disgust, Spencer is just thankful that Ryan has decided to take summer classes to get a head start on his freshman year, and that he had been lucky enough to score a single for the summer session. At least then he can sneak out to Ryan's room and avoid actually having to stay in his assigned room with his gross roommate.
In fact, as soon as he’s unpacked - which he does as quickly as humanly possible - Spencer decides to leave his room to hunt down his elusive best friend, who is likely being emo and writing in his journal while hiding in his dorm room. Just then, a familiar voice has him freezing while he's pulling the door closed behind him.
"Spencer Smith, is that you?"
"Shit."
--
(Brendon and Spencer met in their junior year during All-State band. Spencer played timpani, and Brendon played marimba, so they tended to be right next to each other in the percussion section, or at the very least Brendon kept shooting him these huge smiles and trying to talk to him when they were supposed to be listening to the conductor, which would send Spencer's bitch mode into overdrive. For some reason, though, Brendon was not at all fazed by it.
It wasn't until after the last rehearsal before the All-State concert that Spencer realized that maybe Brendon wasn't quite the idiot that he had thought he was at first. Having forgotten his sheet music for his school band under his seat, Spencer went back to the auditorium, pausing in the doorway when he heard music playing. The celesta had been in the corner, covered, since it wasn't being used in any of the works they would be performing, and yet someone was playing it.
Stepping further into the room, his curiosity peaked, Spencer listened to the music, immediately recognizing it as Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies from Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite, probably the most famous work featuring a celesta. But when the music somehow switched into the Whiteman orchestration of Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, Spencer was entranced. When the music tapered off, it was all he could do to not applaud.
And when he could see the player's face, of course it was Brendon; could it really have been anyone else? Ducking into the shadows of the auditorium to avoid being seen, Spencer decided that Brendon was not so bad after all. And before the performance, he returned the smile Brendon aimed his way, and was pleased to see it widen ever so slightly at his encouragement.)
--
It takes some fast talking, a particularly potent glare, and a well-placed elbow to get the boy-turned-boa constrictor off of him. Spencer is starting to think that maybe that smile wasn't his best idea after all. Either way, he’s free now and headed for Ryan's dorm.
Ryan is on scholarship, and his dorm is included, which is the only reason why he's staying on campus instead of commuting from home. It's also the only reason why he's taking summer classes, since his father never would have sprung for them. When the school year officially starts, he'll be in the Tonopah Complex with the other scholarship students - which happens to be exactly where Spencer and the rest of the kids in band camp are staying - but for now, he's over in the Hughes Building, with most of the other students there for the summer term. It's an upperclassman dorm, but not many incoming freshmen take summer courses. Ryan is not the usual freshman.
(Spencer sometimes finds it kind of annoying that Ryan is as smart as he is, but never for long. There are some things that Ryan is so utterly and completely stupid about; it’s kind of tragic, really.)
It’s not long until Spencer is at Ryan’s room, knocking on the door in the customary two long, three short raps that had become like their own personal signal over the years. The shift of Ryan’s customary neutral expression into a smile as he opens the door makes the disgusting roommate completely worth it in Spencer’s eyes. Lately there are less and less things that can make Ryan smile, truly smile, so anything is good, and if his presence whenever he’s not dying on the football field in the ridiculous June heat can do that, then that is just fine with Spencer.
--
“It is so hot! Spencer Smith, why is it so hot?”
For some reason, Brendon has gotten into the habit of calling people by their full names. He especially likes doing so when it comes to Spencer. Brendon is five years old, apparently, and thinks that alliteration is hilarious.
Spencer is more than a little bit annoyed by it. “I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that we live in the desert?” Spencer is also not the biggest fans of stupid questions.
They had just finished classes for the first day of camp, having spent hours upon hours out on the football field, marching in place, and learning how to conduct in two and four. Spencer has decided that it’s well past time he left to meet up with Ryan, who should be out of his work-study job at the bookstore by now (plus, it’ll get him away from Brendon). It wasn’t in his plan for Brendon to start following along after him.
“Where are you going? Can I come?”
Groaning under his breath, Spencer looked briefly over his shoulder, seeing only for a second the hopeful look on Brendon’s face. Damn it. “Shouldn’t you be going back to your room? Bugging your roommate or someone else from your school?”
Shrugging his shoulders, Brendon’s mouth is curved in a somewhat wry smile, an expression Spencer is pretty sure Brendon is incapable of, but there he is doing it all the same, and Spencer doesn’t like it. “My roommate is kind of mad at me because I flushed all of my Adderall that I’m supposed to be taking this week. He thinks that if I wasn’t going to take them that I should have given them to him, or whatever. Plus, he thinks I’m going to be too annoying all week without it.”
Spencer is inclined to agree with Brendon’s roommate, as far as the whole annoying thing goes, but he still thinks it’s pretty fucked up for the kid to have come straight out and said something like that. Besides, Ryan did ask who Brendon was - well, not exactly, but Spencer knows how to read Ryan after so many years of friendship - and if Brendon gets a kick out of saying “Spencer Smith”, he’ll be thrilled with “Ryan Ross”.
“My best friend’s a freshman here, and decided to take summer classes to get a head-start on the school year. He’s staying in one of the other dorms. That’s where I was going.” The look that Brendon gives him clearly states that he thinks that Spencer’s friend is completely insane for voluntarily going to school when he could be enjoying his summer. Spencer would normally be inclined to agree, but Ryan’s situation is anything but normal. Starting to walk away towards Ryan’s dorm, Spencer waits a few seconds before looking over his shoulder at Brendon, one eyebrow cocked in inquiry. “Well, are you coming along or not?”
Not needing any further invitation, Brendon trails along behind Spencer, rambling on and on about the piece they both were going over in their conducting classes (“We performed that my sophomore year, back when my friend Jon was a drum major! I wonder if he still remembers it. Maybe he’d help me with it, do you think?”). By the time they get to Ryan’s door, Spencer is starting to regret inviting Brendon along.
“Spence, what the-”
“-and then I said-”
“-fuck took you so long?”
Ryan barely spares a glance for the weird kid standing next to Spencer, who seems to be doing his best impression of a fish, all mouth gaping open and big lips and wide eyes, and what the hell is that all about anyway? “Don’t tell me this is the annoying kid from All-State?”
Brendon’s expression seems to crumple for a second, but only a second, and then a huge smile spreads across his features, eyes brightening, latching onto Spencer with a gleeful laugh.
“Spencer Smith, you told your friend about me? See, you do like me!”
Far too busy cuddling an unwilling Spencer, Brendon doesn’t catch Ryan’s reaction to Brendon's mercurial mood change; though, even if he did, he wouldn’t know what it meant. Spencer, however, catches every nuance in Ryan’s expression, and knows exactly what it means.
Trouble. For him, at least. But trouble all around is a pretty fair assessment as well.
--
It’s the second actual day of camp when Brendon discovers the Jamba Juice in the Student Union. He proceeds to give the place dirty looks whenever he passes it (he has workplace loyalty, okay?), getting mixed vegetable bowls from the Panda Express or roasted vegetable Labrettis from Pandinis. And sure, the Taco Bell looks good, but Brendon is trying really hard to be a vegetarian, and the delicious steak gorditas will have one less person eating them, so long as he can keep his willpower going. (Plus, ever since Jon told him that "gordita" means "fat little girl", he found them too amusing to eat, anyway.)
The Starbucks, on the other hand, is a tasty bit of deliciousness that Brendon’s parents will never find out that he goes to every day. He blames Jon, since he works there and all, but really, how can he resist the yummy frozen goodness of a Frappuccino? He’s determined to try most of them, but his favorite is still the double chocolate chip mixed with the strawberries and crème.
He’s leaning on the pick up counter, watching Jon make drinks for all the band camp kids on their lunch break, and rambling on and on about everything and nothing at all, but mainly about one subject in particular: Ryan Ross.
“Jon, you don’t understand! He’s, like, perfect! And pretty, like...girl pretty! Guys aren’t supposed to be girl pretty! It’s like he’s fucking with my head!” As if to emphasize his point, Brendon clutches at his hair, making it stand up on end. However, his flair for the dramatic is wasted on Jon, as he’s far too engrossed in watching two people sitting across the Student Union, near the dreaded Jamba Juice. One is a guy that is obviously involved in the band camp like Brendon, his nose and cheeks pink from too much sun, and the other is - well, Jon's not entirely sure. He thinks that it's a boy, but they could just as easily be a really skinny scene girl. Either way, they're holding out a tube of chapstick - or maybe lip gloss - and looking like they're both bored and lecturing at the same time.
Following Jon’s gaze, Brendon’s face lights up immediately, waving one arm in the air at the pair. “Spencer! Ryan! Over here!” The pair he’s attempting to flag down appear like they would rather have their legs gnawed off by a rabid moose than go over there where Brendon is practically vibrating with excitement - or maybe that’s just the caffeine. However, people are starting to stare, and while Ryan still appears reluctant, Spencer drags him over to the Starbucks.
“Brendon, you’re at a ten, and we need you at about a two, okay?” Ryan snorts at Spencer’s words, their shoulders bumping together, sharing a grin. Brendon merely sticks out his tongue, blowing a raspberry in response, and Jon takes it all in while making an "umm, iced nonfat latte, grande please, and triple, with a shot of sugar-free vanilla" - which makes Jon's head hurt from the stupid - for a blonde girl that is too busy staring at Ryan to pay attention to the drink being made for her. Jon finds the whole situation vaguely amusing, especially considering that Ryan - who is a boy after all - the cause of the existential woes Brendon has been piling on him the entire lunch break, is looking very intently at Brendon, but always manages to have his eyes elsewhere whenever Brendon turns toward him.
Jon would really like to know when his life turned into a bad teenage drama. Because really. Degrassi has nothing on them.
--
Things start getting really weird when one day Spencer comes off the field from a conducting class and spots Ryan off on the other side of the field, a book in his lap and sunglasses hiding his eyes, though it's obvious that he's watching the class on the other end of the field, where Brendon is learning how to do tricks with a mace. Spencer knows Ryan, and especially in recent years, Ryan isn't much for leaving an air-conditioned room to sit around outside in the sun for hours on end, which is apparently what he had done today, if the pink tinge on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose is any indication.
Spencer is far enough away that he hasn't been spotted yet, when Brendon bounds off the field, smiling and calling out to his audience of one. "Ryan, Ryan! Check this out!" He then proceeds to do an intricate twirl-toss-catch movement with the mace, improvising some footwork that most definitely was not taught in the showmanship class. He inevitably ends up tripping at the end, tumbling to the ground in front of Ryan, cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment but grinning brightly, and the hint of a returned smile on Ryan's face makes Spencer's stomach twist oddly.
It's not entirely a bad feeling.
All the same, it feels like Spencer is intruding, so he quickly changes directions before either Brendon or Ryan can spot him and call him over to them. Count it as his good deed for the day (other than not strangling Brendon, but that doesn't count since every day is a struggle against that, really).
--
Growing up, Brendon didn't really have any problems with being a Mormon. To be perfectly honest, he really liked it. As a kid, he only really knew other Mormons, so he didn't see anything wrong with it. He had a great big extended family, with tons of cousins to play with and he was really close with his siblings, even though they were all older than him. Even when he got older it wasn't so bad. Sure, he couldn't have a soda, and there was the whole "your body is a temple" aspect of the religion, but the teenage sex thing hadn't really appealed to Brendon all that much anyway, and it wasn't like people were banging down his door either.
But then Brendon met Ryan Ross.
And it really wasn't like he hadn't already started questioning things, but that mainly had to do with the strict laws governing how he was supposed to live his life. Especially with senior year and then college looming ahead of him, the prospect of going off to BYU like his older siblings and going on his mission was becoming less and less appealing. And then Ryan shows up in his life, making him question things that he never thought to question before.
The CTR ring on Brendon's finger feels heavy, like it's taunting him. Choose The Right. How can he do that when he's not even sure what "The Right" is anymore? What feels right to him? Or what he's always been told is right?
A knock at the door jostles Brendon out of his reverie, and he bounds over to answer it, expecting to see Jon, fresh off his shift at Starbucks. Instead, Brendon is surprised to see Ryan Ross standing there, ridiculously huge white-framed sunglasses perched on top of his head, which in turn shows off the tanlines he's gotten from sitting around outside while the drum major classes are going on. They're kind of hilarious, but Brendon only just keeps himself from laughing by sheer dint of will, and the fact that he doesn't want to scare Ryan off, especially since he appears to have shown up without Spencer, which is more than a little surprising.
"Um, hi?"
"Yeah, Spencer's helping someone with their drill designing or something, I wasn't really paying attention. I was going to go down to the Union to get something to eat, and since he's busy and you're right here, I figured I'd ask if you wanted to come with." Ryan is staring Brendon down, almost daring him to say no.
Brendon is not dumb, so he's not even contemplating turning Ryan down. However, because he's not dumb, he also knows that Spencer's been on the football field all this time, working on the drills, so Ryan's story doesn't entirely match up. Which means that Ryan had to come to the dorms specifically to see him, which makes Brendon smile.
"Sure, Ryan Ross. Lead on, lead on!"
Dinner is pretty awesome, and it's made the most awesome by the fact that Brendon has Ryan to himself for most of the meal. Jon stops by for a few minutes after his shift, but he smells like coffee and wants to shower, so he leaves pretty quickly. Spencer doesn't even turn up until they're already done eating, looking furious.
"Next time I agree to help someone, remind me that I hate people, okay?"
It's the only thing he says before stalking off to get something to eat, leaving Brendon and Ryan looking at each other and shrugging. Brendon is pretty sure that is his cue to leave so that Spencer and Ryan can have psychic best friend bonding time or whatever, but before he can make his excuses, Ryan stops him with a hand on his arm.
"He's gonna want to blow off some steam, which equates to a video game tournament in my room. You game?"
Brendon cocks a brow. "Does that mean I have to let him win?"
The grin on Ryan's face is nearly a smirk. "Oh, no. Kick his ass, if you can. He needs to vent and it's better to do it this way than by punching walls."
"Ryan." Just that one word out of Spencer's mouth is incredibly bitchy and demanding, and Brendon hopes that Spencer will teach him how to sound that way one day. He'll probably fail rather epically at it, but it'll be fun to try all the same. And Spencer is the master of bitchy tones of voice and expressions.
"We're coming, we're coming, okay? Just give us a second to throw our shit away, alright?"
"Allow me," Brendon beams and makes a huge, showy, sweeping bow, before grabbing the trays off the table and skipping over to the trash cans, leaving Ryan rolling his eyes and Spencer tapping his foot impatiently. Dumping the remnants of their dinner and putting the trays away, Brendon looks down at his hand, at his CTR ring, and in a flash of determination, he yanks the bit of metal off his finger and chucks it in the garbage too.
"Brendon, if you don't get your ass over here right now, we're leaving without you!"
"Keep your pants on, Spencer Smith! You can't be that eager for me to kick your ass." If video game tournaments with Spencer and Ryan's rare true smiles - and Brendon can totally tell the difference between a fake smile and a real one - are wrong, than he doesn't want the LDS' version of what's right.
--
"Jon Walker,” Spencer says, leaning against the transaction plane of the Starbucks during a lull in business. “Do you know where Brendon is right now?” Jon does not, in fact, know where Brendon is right now, but the look in Spencer’s eyes makes him think that Spencer does know, and is baiting Jon. “Um. No, I haven’t seen him since the beginning of my shift, when he asked for one of his usual Frappuccinos and a venti Zen tea.”
Spencer’s eyes don’t flicker at all, as if he was expecting to hear exactly that. Jon himself was a bit surprised over the tea, but he didn’t question it, just handing over both drinks to Brendon, letting him go on his merry way. And merry it was. Brendon had been even more perky and bouncy than normal, and Jon is still a little bit freaked out by it, since the mood seemed to have had no known cause. At least, not one that had been shared with him and for which he was quite glad. He had already heard enough about Brendon’s sexuality being challenged by Ryan, and how Ryan was ruining his mission to lose his virginity while he was away at band camp.
“He seems to think that bringing Ryan tea and gummy bears will convince him to let Brendon fuck him.”
Jon is very glad that he isn’t drinking anything at that moment, or handling any 200-degree liquids, because, um. Ow. That would have sucked. Quite a bit more than Brendon apparently wants to suck Ryan (or have Ryan suck him)...and he can’t believe he let his brain go there, oh god. The images, they burn. Jon might just be whimpering right then. “Why do you hate me, Spencer Smith? Why?”
“Because your best friend wants to use my best friend to fulfill his American Pie-esque dream of the geek getting the girl. Or boy, rather,” and really, Spencer can be pretty scary. Jon’s not quite sure why Brendon hasn’t ever mentioned that before. Jon also wonders if Spencer somehow knows that Jon's the one who decided to marathon the American Pie movies with Brendon, shocked that a big band geek like Brendon didn't know the movies at all. Spencer might decide to murder Jon in his sleep if he found out, and yeah, no thanks.
Sighing, Jon starts to make a drink, handing it off to Spencer once it's done. "Quad venti 6-pump almond 2% 170-degree stirred extra-foam latte, double-cupped." Just holding the drink seems to make Spencer that much less pissy. (Which is really a good thing, because it means he won't try to kill Jon with his eyes, and also because Spencer actually has a really nice smile that makes everyone else want to smile when he is.)
"This isn't going to make this all better, Jon Walker," Spencer said, peering over the lid of his drink, just holding it to his lips, not drinking it just yet. "But it's a good start."
--
Brendon is part-Hawaiian, and Spencer really hates this about him.
See, the thing is, Spencer burns in the sun. Especially his nose and the tops of his ears. But he refuses to wear zinc oxide on his nose because it looks ridiculous.
As Ryan likes to point out, a burned and peeling nose is even more ridiculous-looking.
And this is why Spencer hates the fact that Brendon is part-Hawaiian. Because Brendon has a really great tan now, and he keeps getting complimented on it by girls from other schools that don't know who he is. Even Ryan has commented on Brendon's tan, and that's really saying something. Like the fact that his best friend is falling for the guy they used to refer to as "the annoying kid from All-State".
Though, it could be worse. Ryan could still be mooning over his ridiculous crush he had on Pete Wentz from Fall Out Boy, based purely on the fact that they talked once after a show. So yeah, definitely could be worse.
--
Band camp week always seems to be over in the blink of an eye, what with all the classes and the various events they hold at night to keep everyone at the camp entertained. Bonfires and movie nights, things Brendon always wanted to participate in, but never could. But now that he's there for these things, all he has wanted to do is spend time with Ryan (and Spencer too, by default).
It's the last night of the camp, and it feels like no time has passed at all, but he's got his drum major certification in his hand all the same. They're having a bonfire and marshmallow roast - and an impromptu dance as well, but that's more just music playing and kids deciding to use it as an excuse to dance and hook up with each other before going home the next day - and there's nowhere that Brendon would want to be least, except perhaps home with his parents at their next Family Home Night. It was bound to be filled with lots of lessons to make sure he didn't forget his faith while he was with the heathens.
So when Ryan shows up at the bonfire and starts to drag Brendon away, he really doesn't fight it. The prospect of being alone with Ryan is infinitely more appealing to being ogled by weird band geek girls that want to have stories to tell their friends when they get home.
They end up back in Ryan's room, which is remarkably Spencer-free.
"So, you're leaving tomorrow."
Brendon's pretty sure that Ryan already knew that, so all he does is nod, albeit a bit slowly. He's not really sure where this conversation is going.
"Then are you going to ask me the fuck out, or did you not even realize that you've been flirting with me all week?"
Well. That was not at all what Brendon was expecting. Like, sure, Brendon had been flirting ridiculously, but he never thought Ryan would call him on it. He just figured he'd go home like a loser and kick himself over not saying anything to Ryan about it.
"Um. I, uh. Well. Yes? I mean, do you? Want to go out sometime? I mean, as long as you're cool with the fact that I roll in a minivan shaped like a grape jellybean. And I probably could never introduce you to my parents because they're Mormon and kind of crazy, and yeah. I don't really know much about this whole thing, it's not like I've ever--"
And Ryan Ross just grabbed Brendon's lips. Literally grabbed them with his fingers, and Brendon is just staring and trying to talk but Ryan isn't letting go.
"Brendon. Stop talking."
Brendon does. He totally does. Mainly because Ryan is kissing him and there are much better things his lips could be doing other than talking. Like kissing Ryan back, which is seriously just. Awesome. And then they're on Ryan's bed and that's awesome too.
Then there are hands at the waistband of his pants and Brendon's a little freaked out. But in a good way. He's just never had anyone actually try to get in his pants before and it's kind of nerve-wracking. Plus, Ryan is really hot, and Brendon's been nearly painfully hard since about five seconds into their makeout session. And said hot guy's hand is slipping into his open fly and, and...
"Shit...!"
"Am I really that good? Or are you just that bad?" The words are harsh, but Ryan's smile, which is not mocking in the least, softens the blow. Even so, Brendon flushes a bit, the tips of his ears turning red.
"Shut it, Ross," he mumbles, fingers fumbling at Ryan's clothes. He's pretty determined to get Ryan off too, wants him to enjoy it, but when he opens Ryan's pants and pulls out his cock, his eyes widen in surprise.
"Holy fuck, what kind of Godzilla cock do you have? That thing is huge!" Brendon is starting to feel a bit intimidated. Or more than a bit, really.
"Okay, you really need to stop now with the weird talk. I mean, that's flattering and all but how about less freaking out and more jerking me off?"
And that's just it, because Brendon's determined now, okay? He's totally going to get Ryan off, and Ryan will be begging him for more. Begging! Because Brendon's a musician, which means he's totally good with his hands.
It seems like Ryan agrees with that, hips shifting on the bed as Brendon jerks him off, slow and dirty, lifting his hand every so often to lick at it, not wanting to stop to find something to make it easier, enjoying the feel of Ryan's cock, hard and heavy in his hand.
But then Ryan says something, and Brendon would swear he imagined it, but Ryan's looking at him, eyes dark with arousal and something more. Something he can't even put into words.
"Brendon, I want you to fuck me."
He wasn't even aware that he could get hard again so soon, but it's almost comical how he went from sated to achingly hard in a matter of moments, just at the idea of getting to fuck Ryan.
The thing is, Brendon doesn't really know what he's doing. He fumbles himself and Ryan out of their clothes, but that's where his brain sort of stutters and stops. It's just damn hard to think coherent thoughts with Ryan stretched out on the bed, completely naked.
So he just goes for it, hips nudging forward, the head of his cock prodding at Ryan's ass, but it's a lot more difficult than he thought it'd be, since nothing is really happening. Things just get progressively worse when Ryan starts to laugh.
"What?!"
"You really don't know what you're doing, do you?"
That might be the case, but it's not like Brendon's going to just come out and say it. What if Ryan decided that he didn't want to have sex anymore? That would just suck so hard, and not in the good way.
"What do you mean? Of course I know what I'm doing!"
"Sure you do. Then maybe you should know that the lube is in that drawer, and there's condoms in there too."
Brendon's eyes follow where Ryan's fingers point, cheeks turning ruddy with embarrassment.
"Right, of course," he mutters, leaning over the edge of the bed to try to reach the drawer, nearly losing his balance and tumbling off more than once, but he manages to grab the small tube and a foil-wrapped packet all the same. The condom is easy enough, he learned how to put them on bananas in health class. The lube, however, is completely beyond him. What is it even for?
"Oh for-- Give me that."
And oh, so that's what the lube is for.
Brendon's erection was fading a bit between Ryan laughing at him and the awkwardness of the moment, but it's totally back again, because holy shit. Ryan's got these long fingers, and Brendon didn't realize how hot they were, but they totally are, especially pushing in and out of Ryan's ass like they are right now.
"Roll over."
"Huh?"
"Get on your back; it'll be easier this way, believe me."
Confused, Brendon does as he's told, and as soon as he's lying on his back, Ryan's drawing his fingers out of his ass and shifting to straddle Brendon's hips, and oh God, he's not. He's just not. Except he totally is grabbing Brendon's cock and positioning himself over it.
And Ryan's slipping down onto Brendon's cock, and the only thing going through his head is a never-ending litany of fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..., the feeling of tighthotslickgodyesplease almost too much for him.
Ryan is stopping and biting his lip, eyes closed, sucking in a breath before slipping the rest of the way down Brendon's dick, and he's just. Gorgeous. Brendon had thought that Ryan was girl pretty when they first met, but he's unmistakably male and all the more beautiful for it, if that's even the right word to use. And it's so hard for him to not just come right then and there, but there is no way Brendon's letting that happen again, not with Ryan on top of him, starting to shift his hips a little, looking down at Brendon with the tiniest of smiles curving his lips.
Even with such determination, it's hard to keep his cool, because Ryan is making these noises, and the friction against his cock feels so damn good. And then Brendon figures out that if he moves his hips too, that makes Ryan get even louder, and that's the beginning of the end. Because there's only so much that Brendon can take, okay?
"Ry--Ryan, gonna...!"
Ryan is rolling his eyes, but he fists his cock and starts stroking it fast, trying to finish himself off, but Brendon can't hold off any longer. His climax hits, and it's nothing like he's ever felt, by himself, mouth pressed into his pillow, trying to make sure nobody in his house can hear him, because his body is a temple and he shouldn't be desecrating it in such a way. But Brendon is seeing stars, and nothing has ever felt this good before, ever.
He's just starting to come down when Ryan's orgasm hits, come splattering Brendon's chest, shoulder, neck. And fuck, that's kind of awesome, if a bit sticky. But even more awesome than that is Ryan slipping off of him and curling up beside him, licking his own come from Brendon's skin. If it were physically possible, Brendon would totally be hard again, but all he wants to do right now is sleep.
"Brendon, you still owe me a date. Also, we have got to work on your stamina. I'd like to have sex for more than two minutes next time, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah...sleep now, talk later."
--
Spencer finds Brendon and Ryan curled up in bed together - and oh God, they're not entirely covered and that's just wrong; Ryan's his best friend, but that doesn't mean he wants to see his junk - and it's really not that much of a surprise. Spencer didn't miss Ryan dragging Brendon away from the bonfire last night. It's actually more surprising that it took this long.
"Hey, douchebag. Wake up," Spencer gives Brendon a not-so-gentle nudge to make sure that he gets his ass in gear and doesn't just ignore him.
"Nnghhh, what? Gyah!" Rolling over and finding Spencer glaring at him is not at all how Brendon wanted to wake up. And apparently his flailing and shriek of manly surprise has woken Ryan as well.
"What the fuck, Spencer. What are you doing here? It's like, ass-o'clock in the morning."
"Yeah, it is, but loverboy here needs to hurry back to his room, since parents are supposed to be arriving in less than an hour to pick everyone up."
And since Spencer's a bitch, he totally smirks when Brendon starts freaking out and scrambling for his clothes. In fact, he only turns away because ew, gross.
Brendon's finally got his clothes on, and Ryan's got the covers pulled up enough that nothing Spencer doesn't want to see is showing, but when Spencer turns around, they're being all soppy and gross and kissing, and it's all that Spencer can do not to make obnoxious gagging noises.
"I'll call you, okay?"
"Sure."
"And I wasn't lying about the jellybean van."
"I know."
"And I--"
"Brendon, shut the fuck up and go already. Your parents are gonna be here soon and you still have to get your shit from your room. Plus, I want to get some more sleep before I have to go to work."
They're kissing again, and while Spencer isn't gagging, it's too much effort for him to not tap his foot impatiently. When they break apart, Spencer grabs Brendon's wrist and tugs him towards the door.
"Ryan, Mom wants you to come over tomorrow for dinner. She thinks that because you're living on campus you're not eating or whatever. So you better show up or she'll think you're dead and will totally hunt you down, and you don't want that."
Ryan makes a noise of that Spencer takes for agreement and waves them both off, sticking his head under his pillow to go back to sleep, presumably, and Spencer walks with Brendon back over to the dorms that the drum major kids were staying at. They're quiet almost the entire way, but right before they go inside, Spencer stops them, staring at Brendon.
"You hurt him, and I'll kill you. Don't think I won't. It's not like one less Mormon in Nevada would be a big deal."
Brendon's looking pretty scared, and while that's sort of the point, Brendon's kind of like a puppy dog and it makes Spencer feel bad.
"You make him happy, so just keep it that way. Okay?"
A nod is all Brendon manages before Spencer's pushing him towards the doors of the dorm.
"Now go get your shit before the Mormons descend and I tell them you were too busy breaking the laws of chastity with a dude to pack your things."
Spencer's pretty amused by the way Brendon runs to do just as he said, following at a much more sedate pace. It's pretty much a given that Spencer's going to be stuck being in Brendon's presence a lot, and while Brendon's not nearly as bad as Spencer once thought he was, it's good to know that he can intimidate him into doing things.
It's not that long before Spencer's up to his room and back down again with his things, scanning the crowd of parents for his mom, and spotting a group of people assaulting Brendon.
("Where's your ring?"
"Oh, it fell off during drills on the field. I tried looking for it, but I couldn't find it."
"Well, we'll just have to get you a new one, won't we?"
"...yeah, of course.")
It's then that Spencer's mom comes out from behind a band geek girl and her family, smiling happily.
"Spencer! How was camp? Did anything interesting happen."
Pausing for just a moment, he just shook his head.
"Not really, just the same old thing, like every other year."
(or; save a drum, bang a drum major)
Brendon/Ryan, AU, NC-17, 6700~ words
Spencer's best friend is falling for the guy they used to refer to as "the annoying kid from All-State".
Special thanks to torturemysoul for giving this a gander and telling me it didn't suck, to onmycrew for the awesome beta make doubly sure that it didn't suck, and to wishpaper for listening to me bitch for months about this, and for giving it barista authenticity.
To say that Brendon is excited would be an understatement. Ever since he started with his high school marching band, he's wanted to be a drum major. Now, going into his senior year, he's been chosen to be one, and will be going to the drum major camp being held at UNLV.
Normally he's there for the usual symphonic percussion camp, but he's always commuted. His parents don’t feel that band camp is the proper surroundings for him to be in around the clock, not with so many non-Mormons in attendance. However, after weeks of begging, pleading, and patented Urie puppy-dog eyes, he finally convinced his parents to let him stay, promising to pray every day, to call them every day as well, and to make sure that he follows the teachings of the Book of Mormon, despite being around all sorts of temptation.
(The temptation is part of the reason he wants to stay, though. Really, what’s the harm in drinking a Coke now and again? Sure, it messes with his ADHD, but that's what medication is for, right?)
Either way, he’s headed for a whole week of marching, conducting classes, leadership workshops, and showmanship. Plus, Brendon's best friend, Jon, is working at the Starbucks in the Student Union throughout the summer, so he'll get to spend time with him as well. It’s going to be the best week ever.
--
Spencer Smith is annoyed.
It’s not even officially the first day of band camp - well, drum major camp for him - and he already wants to strangle his roommate. When Spencer had arrived with his things, it already looked like a tornado had hit the room, and they were taking up much more than their fair share of the closet. Do they not understand that Spencer needs space? He'd packed ten pairs of shoes alone, and that's just because his mother made him get rid of some because they were taking up too much room. (He'd snuck another two pairs in his backpack, but what his mother didn't know wouldn't hurt him.)
Kicking aside discarded sneakers and articles of clothing, nose wrinkled in disgust, Spencer is just thankful that Ryan has decided to take summer classes to get a head start on his freshman year, and that he had been lucky enough to score a single for the summer session. At least then he can sneak out to Ryan's room and avoid actually having to stay in his assigned room with his gross roommate.
In fact, as soon as he’s unpacked - which he does as quickly as humanly possible - Spencer decides to leave his room to hunt down his elusive best friend, who is likely being emo and writing in his journal while hiding in his dorm room. Just then, a familiar voice has him freezing while he's pulling the door closed behind him.
"Spencer Smith, is that you?"
"Shit."
--
(Brendon and Spencer met in their junior year during All-State band. Spencer played timpani, and Brendon played marimba, so they tended to be right next to each other in the percussion section, or at the very least Brendon kept shooting him these huge smiles and trying to talk to him when they were supposed to be listening to the conductor, which would send Spencer's bitch mode into overdrive. For some reason, though, Brendon was not at all fazed by it.
It wasn't until after the last rehearsal before the All-State concert that Spencer realized that maybe Brendon wasn't quite the idiot that he had thought he was at first. Having forgotten his sheet music for his school band under his seat, Spencer went back to the auditorium, pausing in the doorway when he heard music playing. The celesta had been in the corner, covered, since it wasn't being used in any of the works they would be performing, and yet someone was playing it.
Stepping further into the room, his curiosity peaked, Spencer listened to the music, immediately recognizing it as Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies from Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite, probably the most famous work featuring a celesta. But when the music somehow switched into the Whiteman orchestration of Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, Spencer was entranced. When the music tapered off, it was all he could do to not applaud.
And when he could see the player's face, of course it was Brendon; could it really have been anyone else? Ducking into the shadows of the auditorium to avoid being seen, Spencer decided that Brendon was not so bad after all. And before the performance, he returned the smile Brendon aimed his way, and was pleased to see it widen ever so slightly at his encouragement.)
--
It takes some fast talking, a particularly potent glare, and a well-placed elbow to get the boy-turned-boa constrictor off of him. Spencer is starting to think that maybe that smile wasn't his best idea after all. Either way, he’s free now and headed for Ryan's dorm.
Ryan is on scholarship, and his dorm is included, which is the only reason why he's staying on campus instead of commuting from home. It's also the only reason why he's taking summer classes, since his father never would have sprung for them. When the school year officially starts, he'll be in the Tonopah Complex with the other scholarship students - which happens to be exactly where Spencer and the rest of the kids in band camp are staying - but for now, he's over in the Hughes Building, with most of the other students there for the summer term. It's an upperclassman dorm, but not many incoming freshmen take summer courses. Ryan is not the usual freshman.
(Spencer sometimes finds it kind of annoying that Ryan is as smart as he is, but never for long. There are some things that Ryan is so utterly and completely stupid about; it’s kind of tragic, really.)
It’s not long until Spencer is at Ryan’s room, knocking on the door in the customary two long, three short raps that had become like their own personal signal over the years. The shift of Ryan’s customary neutral expression into a smile as he opens the door makes the disgusting roommate completely worth it in Spencer’s eyes. Lately there are less and less things that can make Ryan smile, truly smile, so anything is good, and if his presence whenever he’s not dying on the football field in the ridiculous June heat can do that, then that is just fine with Spencer.
--
“It is so hot! Spencer Smith, why is it so hot?”
For some reason, Brendon has gotten into the habit of calling people by their full names. He especially likes doing so when it comes to Spencer. Brendon is five years old, apparently, and thinks that alliteration is hilarious.
Spencer is more than a little bit annoyed by it. “I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that we live in the desert?” Spencer is also not the biggest fans of stupid questions.
They had just finished classes for the first day of camp, having spent hours upon hours out on the football field, marching in place, and learning how to conduct in two and four. Spencer has decided that it’s well past time he left to meet up with Ryan, who should be out of his work-study job at the bookstore by now (plus, it’ll get him away from Brendon). It wasn’t in his plan for Brendon to start following along after him.
“Where are you going? Can I come?”
Groaning under his breath, Spencer looked briefly over his shoulder, seeing only for a second the hopeful look on Brendon’s face. Damn it. “Shouldn’t you be going back to your room? Bugging your roommate or someone else from your school?”
Shrugging his shoulders, Brendon’s mouth is curved in a somewhat wry smile, an expression Spencer is pretty sure Brendon is incapable of, but there he is doing it all the same, and Spencer doesn’t like it. “My roommate is kind of mad at me because I flushed all of my Adderall that I’m supposed to be taking this week. He thinks that if I wasn’t going to take them that I should have given them to him, or whatever. Plus, he thinks I’m going to be too annoying all week without it.”
Spencer is inclined to agree with Brendon’s roommate, as far as the whole annoying thing goes, but he still thinks it’s pretty fucked up for the kid to have come straight out and said something like that. Besides, Ryan did ask who Brendon was - well, not exactly, but Spencer knows how to read Ryan after so many years of friendship - and if Brendon gets a kick out of saying “Spencer Smith”, he’ll be thrilled with “Ryan Ross”.
“My best friend’s a freshman here, and decided to take summer classes to get a head-start on the school year. He’s staying in one of the other dorms. That’s where I was going.” The look that Brendon gives him clearly states that he thinks that Spencer’s friend is completely insane for voluntarily going to school when he could be enjoying his summer. Spencer would normally be inclined to agree, but Ryan’s situation is anything but normal. Starting to walk away towards Ryan’s dorm, Spencer waits a few seconds before looking over his shoulder at Brendon, one eyebrow cocked in inquiry. “Well, are you coming along or not?”
Not needing any further invitation, Brendon trails along behind Spencer, rambling on and on about the piece they both were going over in their conducting classes (“We performed that my sophomore year, back when my friend Jon was a drum major! I wonder if he still remembers it. Maybe he’d help me with it, do you think?”). By the time they get to Ryan’s door, Spencer is starting to regret inviting Brendon along.
“Spence, what the-”
“-and then I said-”
“-fuck took you so long?”
Ryan barely spares a glance for the weird kid standing next to Spencer, who seems to be doing his best impression of a fish, all mouth gaping open and big lips and wide eyes, and what the hell is that all about anyway? “Don’t tell me this is the annoying kid from All-State?”
Brendon’s expression seems to crumple for a second, but only a second, and then a huge smile spreads across his features, eyes brightening, latching onto Spencer with a gleeful laugh.
“Spencer Smith, you told your friend about me? See, you do like me!”
Far too busy cuddling an unwilling Spencer, Brendon doesn’t catch Ryan’s reaction to Brendon's mercurial mood change; though, even if he did, he wouldn’t know what it meant. Spencer, however, catches every nuance in Ryan’s expression, and knows exactly what it means.
Trouble. For him, at least. But trouble all around is a pretty fair assessment as well.
--
It’s the second actual day of camp when Brendon discovers the Jamba Juice in the Student Union. He proceeds to give the place dirty looks whenever he passes it (he has workplace loyalty, okay?), getting mixed vegetable bowls from the Panda Express or roasted vegetable Labrettis from Pandinis. And sure, the Taco Bell looks good, but Brendon is trying really hard to be a vegetarian, and the delicious steak gorditas will have one less person eating them, so long as he can keep his willpower going. (Plus, ever since Jon told him that "gordita" means "fat little girl", he found them too amusing to eat, anyway.)
The Starbucks, on the other hand, is a tasty bit of deliciousness that Brendon’s parents will never find out that he goes to every day. He blames Jon, since he works there and all, but really, how can he resist the yummy frozen goodness of a Frappuccino? He’s determined to try most of them, but his favorite is still the double chocolate chip mixed with the strawberries and crème.
He’s leaning on the pick up counter, watching Jon make drinks for all the band camp kids on their lunch break, and rambling on and on about everything and nothing at all, but mainly about one subject in particular: Ryan Ross.
“Jon, you don’t understand! He’s, like, perfect! And pretty, like...girl pretty! Guys aren’t supposed to be girl pretty! It’s like he’s fucking with my head!” As if to emphasize his point, Brendon clutches at his hair, making it stand up on end. However, his flair for the dramatic is wasted on Jon, as he’s far too engrossed in watching two people sitting across the Student Union, near the dreaded Jamba Juice. One is a guy that is obviously involved in the band camp like Brendon, his nose and cheeks pink from too much sun, and the other is - well, Jon's not entirely sure. He thinks that it's a boy, but they could just as easily be a really skinny scene girl. Either way, they're holding out a tube of chapstick - or maybe lip gloss - and looking like they're both bored and lecturing at the same time.
Following Jon’s gaze, Brendon’s face lights up immediately, waving one arm in the air at the pair. “Spencer! Ryan! Over here!” The pair he’s attempting to flag down appear like they would rather have their legs gnawed off by a rabid moose than go over there where Brendon is practically vibrating with excitement - or maybe that’s just the caffeine. However, people are starting to stare, and while Ryan still appears reluctant, Spencer drags him over to the Starbucks.
“Brendon, you’re at a ten, and we need you at about a two, okay?” Ryan snorts at Spencer’s words, their shoulders bumping together, sharing a grin. Brendon merely sticks out his tongue, blowing a raspberry in response, and Jon takes it all in while making an "umm, iced nonfat latte, grande please, and triple, with a shot of sugar-free vanilla" - which makes Jon's head hurt from the stupid - for a blonde girl that is too busy staring at Ryan to pay attention to the drink being made for her. Jon finds the whole situation vaguely amusing, especially considering that Ryan - who is a boy after all - the cause of the existential woes Brendon has been piling on him the entire lunch break, is looking very intently at Brendon, but always manages to have his eyes elsewhere whenever Brendon turns toward him.
Jon would really like to know when his life turned into a bad teenage drama. Because really. Degrassi has nothing on them.
--
Things start getting really weird when one day Spencer comes off the field from a conducting class and spots Ryan off on the other side of the field, a book in his lap and sunglasses hiding his eyes, though it's obvious that he's watching the class on the other end of the field, where Brendon is learning how to do tricks with a mace. Spencer knows Ryan, and especially in recent years, Ryan isn't much for leaving an air-conditioned room to sit around outside in the sun for hours on end, which is apparently what he had done today, if the pink tinge on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose is any indication.
Spencer is far enough away that he hasn't been spotted yet, when Brendon bounds off the field, smiling and calling out to his audience of one. "Ryan, Ryan! Check this out!" He then proceeds to do an intricate twirl-toss-catch movement with the mace, improvising some footwork that most definitely was not taught in the showmanship class. He inevitably ends up tripping at the end, tumbling to the ground in front of Ryan, cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment but grinning brightly, and the hint of a returned smile on Ryan's face makes Spencer's stomach twist oddly.
It's not entirely a bad feeling.
All the same, it feels like Spencer is intruding, so he quickly changes directions before either Brendon or Ryan can spot him and call him over to them. Count it as his good deed for the day (other than not strangling Brendon, but that doesn't count since every day is a struggle against that, really).
--
Growing up, Brendon didn't really have any problems with being a Mormon. To be perfectly honest, he really liked it. As a kid, he only really knew other Mormons, so he didn't see anything wrong with it. He had a great big extended family, with tons of cousins to play with and he was really close with his siblings, even though they were all older than him. Even when he got older it wasn't so bad. Sure, he couldn't have a soda, and there was the whole "your body is a temple" aspect of the religion, but the teenage sex thing hadn't really appealed to Brendon all that much anyway, and it wasn't like people were banging down his door either.
But then Brendon met Ryan Ross.
And it really wasn't like he hadn't already started questioning things, but that mainly had to do with the strict laws governing how he was supposed to live his life. Especially with senior year and then college looming ahead of him, the prospect of going off to BYU like his older siblings and going on his mission was becoming less and less appealing. And then Ryan shows up in his life, making him question things that he never thought to question before.
The CTR ring on Brendon's finger feels heavy, like it's taunting him. Choose The Right. How can he do that when he's not even sure what "The Right" is anymore? What feels right to him? Or what he's always been told is right?
A knock at the door jostles Brendon out of his reverie, and he bounds over to answer it, expecting to see Jon, fresh off his shift at Starbucks. Instead, Brendon is surprised to see Ryan Ross standing there, ridiculously huge white-framed sunglasses perched on top of his head, which in turn shows off the tanlines he's gotten from sitting around outside while the drum major classes are going on. They're kind of hilarious, but Brendon only just keeps himself from laughing by sheer dint of will, and the fact that he doesn't want to scare Ryan off, especially since he appears to have shown up without Spencer, which is more than a little surprising.
"Um, hi?"
"Yeah, Spencer's helping someone with their drill designing or something, I wasn't really paying attention. I was going to go down to the Union to get something to eat, and since he's busy and you're right here, I figured I'd ask if you wanted to come with." Ryan is staring Brendon down, almost daring him to say no.
Brendon is not dumb, so he's not even contemplating turning Ryan down. However, because he's not dumb, he also knows that Spencer's been on the football field all this time, working on the drills, so Ryan's story doesn't entirely match up. Which means that Ryan had to come to the dorms specifically to see him, which makes Brendon smile.
"Sure, Ryan Ross. Lead on, lead on!"
Dinner is pretty awesome, and it's made the most awesome by the fact that Brendon has Ryan to himself for most of the meal. Jon stops by for a few minutes after his shift, but he smells like coffee and wants to shower, so he leaves pretty quickly. Spencer doesn't even turn up until they're already done eating, looking furious.
"Next time I agree to help someone, remind me that I hate people, okay?"
It's the only thing he says before stalking off to get something to eat, leaving Brendon and Ryan looking at each other and shrugging. Brendon is pretty sure that is his cue to leave so that Spencer and Ryan can have psychic best friend bonding time or whatever, but before he can make his excuses, Ryan stops him with a hand on his arm.
"He's gonna want to blow off some steam, which equates to a video game tournament in my room. You game?"
Brendon cocks a brow. "Does that mean I have to let him win?"
The grin on Ryan's face is nearly a smirk. "Oh, no. Kick his ass, if you can. He needs to vent and it's better to do it this way than by punching walls."
"Ryan." Just that one word out of Spencer's mouth is incredibly bitchy and demanding, and Brendon hopes that Spencer will teach him how to sound that way one day. He'll probably fail rather epically at it, but it'll be fun to try all the same. And Spencer is the master of bitchy tones of voice and expressions.
"We're coming, we're coming, okay? Just give us a second to throw our shit away, alright?"
"Allow me," Brendon beams and makes a huge, showy, sweeping bow, before grabbing the trays off the table and skipping over to the trash cans, leaving Ryan rolling his eyes and Spencer tapping his foot impatiently. Dumping the remnants of their dinner and putting the trays away, Brendon looks down at his hand, at his CTR ring, and in a flash of determination, he yanks the bit of metal off his finger and chucks it in the garbage too.
"Brendon, if you don't get your ass over here right now, we're leaving without you!"
"Keep your pants on, Spencer Smith! You can't be that eager for me to kick your ass." If video game tournaments with Spencer and Ryan's rare true smiles - and Brendon can totally tell the difference between a fake smile and a real one - are wrong, than he doesn't want the LDS' version of what's right.
--
"Jon Walker,” Spencer says, leaning against the transaction plane of the Starbucks during a lull in business. “Do you know where Brendon is right now?” Jon does not, in fact, know where Brendon is right now, but the look in Spencer’s eyes makes him think that Spencer does know, and is baiting Jon. “Um. No, I haven’t seen him since the beginning of my shift, when he asked for one of his usual Frappuccinos and a venti Zen tea.”
Spencer’s eyes don’t flicker at all, as if he was expecting to hear exactly that. Jon himself was a bit surprised over the tea, but he didn’t question it, just handing over both drinks to Brendon, letting him go on his merry way. And merry it was. Brendon had been even more perky and bouncy than normal, and Jon is still a little bit freaked out by it, since the mood seemed to have had no known cause. At least, not one that had been shared with him and for which he was quite glad. He had already heard enough about Brendon’s sexuality being challenged by Ryan, and how Ryan was ruining his mission to lose his virginity while he was away at band camp.
“He seems to think that bringing Ryan tea and gummy bears will convince him to let Brendon fuck him.”
Jon is very glad that he isn’t drinking anything at that moment, or handling any 200-degree liquids, because, um. Ow. That would have sucked. Quite a bit more than Brendon apparently wants to suck Ryan (or have Ryan suck him)...and he can’t believe he let his brain go there, oh god. The images, they burn. Jon might just be whimpering right then. “Why do you hate me, Spencer Smith? Why?”
“Because your best friend wants to use my best friend to fulfill his American Pie-esque dream of the geek getting the girl. Or boy, rather,” and really, Spencer can be pretty scary. Jon’s not quite sure why Brendon hasn’t ever mentioned that before. Jon also wonders if Spencer somehow knows that Jon's the one who decided to marathon the American Pie movies with Brendon, shocked that a big band geek like Brendon didn't know the movies at all. Spencer might decide to murder Jon in his sleep if he found out, and yeah, no thanks.
Sighing, Jon starts to make a drink, handing it off to Spencer once it's done. "Quad venti 6-pump almond 2% 170-degree stirred extra-foam latte, double-cupped." Just holding the drink seems to make Spencer that much less pissy. (Which is really a good thing, because it means he won't try to kill Jon with his eyes, and also because Spencer actually has a really nice smile that makes everyone else want to smile when he is.)
"This isn't going to make this all better, Jon Walker," Spencer said, peering over the lid of his drink, just holding it to his lips, not drinking it just yet. "But it's a good start."
--
Brendon is part-Hawaiian, and Spencer really hates this about him.
See, the thing is, Spencer burns in the sun. Especially his nose and the tops of his ears. But he refuses to wear zinc oxide on his nose because it looks ridiculous.
As Ryan likes to point out, a burned and peeling nose is even more ridiculous-looking.
And this is why Spencer hates the fact that Brendon is part-Hawaiian. Because Brendon has a really great tan now, and he keeps getting complimented on it by girls from other schools that don't know who he is. Even Ryan has commented on Brendon's tan, and that's really saying something. Like the fact that his best friend is falling for the guy they used to refer to as "the annoying kid from All-State".
Though, it could be worse. Ryan could still be mooning over his ridiculous crush he had on Pete Wentz from Fall Out Boy, based purely on the fact that they talked once after a show. So yeah, definitely could be worse.
--
Band camp week always seems to be over in the blink of an eye, what with all the classes and the various events they hold at night to keep everyone at the camp entertained. Bonfires and movie nights, things Brendon always wanted to participate in, but never could. But now that he's there for these things, all he has wanted to do is spend time with Ryan (and Spencer too, by default).
It's the last night of the camp, and it feels like no time has passed at all, but he's got his drum major certification in his hand all the same. They're having a bonfire and marshmallow roast - and an impromptu dance as well, but that's more just music playing and kids deciding to use it as an excuse to dance and hook up with each other before going home the next day - and there's nowhere that Brendon would want to be least, except perhaps home with his parents at their next Family Home Night. It was bound to be filled with lots of lessons to make sure he didn't forget his faith while he was with the heathens.
So when Ryan shows up at the bonfire and starts to drag Brendon away, he really doesn't fight it. The prospect of being alone with Ryan is infinitely more appealing to being ogled by weird band geek girls that want to have stories to tell their friends when they get home.
They end up back in Ryan's room, which is remarkably Spencer-free.
"So, you're leaving tomorrow."
Brendon's pretty sure that Ryan already knew that, so all he does is nod, albeit a bit slowly. He's not really sure where this conversation is going.
"Then are you going to ask me the fuck out, or did you not even realize that you've been flirting with me all week?"
Well. That was not at all what Brendon was expecting. Like, sure, Brendon had been flirting ridiculously, but he never thought Ryan would call him on it. He just figured he'd go home like a loser and kick himself over not saying anything to Ryan about it.
"Um. I, uh. Well. Yes? I mean, do you? Want to go out sometime? I mean, as long as you're cool with the fact that I roll in a minivan shaped like a grape jellybean. And I probably could never introduce you to my parents because they're Mormon and kind of crazy, and yeah. I don't really know much about this whole thing, it's not like I've ever--"
And Ryan Ross just grabbed Brendon's lips. Literally grabbed them with his fingers, and Brendon is just staring and trying to talk but Ryan isn't letting go.
"Brendon. Stop talking."
Brendon does. He totally does. Mainly because Ryan is kissing him and there are much better things his lips could be doing other than talking. Like kissing Ryan back, which is seriously just. Awesome. And then they're on Ryan's bed and that's awesome too.
Then there are hands at the waistband of his pants and Brendon's a little freaked out. But in a good way. He's just never had anyone actually try to get in his pants before and it's kind of nerve-wracking. Plus, Ryan is really hot, and Brendon's been nearly painfully hard since about five seconds into their makeout session. And said hot guy's hand is slipping into his open fly and, and...
"Shit...!"
"Am I really that good? Or are you just that bad?" The words are harsh, but Ryan's smile, which is not mocking in the least, softens the blow. Even so, Brendon flushes a bit, the tips of his ears turning red.
"Shut it, Ross," he mumbles, fingers fumbling at Ryan's clothes. He's pretty determined to get Ryan off too, wants him to enjoy it, but when he opens Ryan's pants and pulls out his cock, his eyes widen in surprise.
"Holy fuck, what kind of Godzilla cock do you have? That thing is huge!" Brendon is starting to feel a bit intimidated. Or more than a bit, really.
"Okay, you really need to stop now with the weird talk. I mean, that's flattering and all but how about less freaking out and more jerking me off?"
And that's just it, because Brendon's determined now, okay? He's totally going to get Ryan off, and Ryan will be begging him for more. Begging! Because Brendon's a musician, which means he's totally good with his hands.
It seems like Ryan agrees with that, hips shifting on the bed as Brendon jerks him off, slow and dirty, lifting his hand every so often to lick at it, not wanting to stop to find something to make it easier, enjoying the feel of Ryan's cock, hard and heavy in his hand.
But then Ryan says something, and Brendon would swear he imagined it, but Ryan's looking at him, eyes dark with arousal and something more. Something he can't even put into words.
"Brendon, I want you to fuck me."
He wasn't even aware that he could get hard again so soon, but it's almost comical how he went from sated to achingly hard in a matter of moments, just at the idea of getting to fuck Ryan.
The thing is, Brendon doesn't really know what he's doing. He fumbles himself and Ryan out of their clothes, but that's where his brain sort of stutters and stops. It's just damn hard to think coherent thoughts with Ryan stretched out on the bed, completely naked.
So he just goes for it, hips nudging forward, the head of his cock prodding at Ryan's ass, but it's a lot more difficult than he thought it'd be, since nothing is really happening. Things just get progressively worse when Ryan starts to laugh.
"What?!"
"You really don't know what you're doing, do you?"
That might be the case, but it's not like Brendon's going to just come out and say it. What if Ryan decided that he didn't want to have sex anymore? That would just suck so hard, and not in the good way.
"What do you mean? Of course I know what I'm doing!"
"Sure you do. Then maybe you should know that the lube is in that drawer, and there's condoms in there too."
Brendon's eyes follow where Ryan's fingers point, cheeks turning ruddy with embarrassment.
"Right, of course," he mutters, leaning over the edge of the bed to try to reach the drawer, nearly losing his balance and tumbling off more than once, but he manages to grab the small tube and a foil-wrapped packet all the same. The condom is easy enough, he learned how to put them on bananas in health class. The lube, however, is completely beyond him. What is it even for?
"Oh for-- Give me that."
And oh, so that's what the lube is for.
Brendon's erection was fading a bit between Ryan laughing at him and the awkwardness of the moment, but it's totally back again, because holy shit. Ryan's got these long fingers, and Brendon didn't realize how hot they were, but they totally are, especially pushing in and out of Ryan's ass like they are right now.
"Roll over."
"Huh?"
"Get on your back; it'll be easier this way, believe me."
Confused, Brendon does as he's told, and as soon as he's lying on his back, Ryan's drawing his fingers out of his ass and shifting to straddle Brendon's hips, and oh God, he's not. He's just not. Except he totally is grabbing Brendon's cock and positioning himself over it.
And Ryan's slipping down onto Brendon's cock, and the only thing going through his head is a never-ending litany of fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..., the feeling of tighthotslickgodyesplease almost too much for him.
Ryan is stopping and biting his lip, eyes closed, sucking in a breath before slipping the rest of the way down Brendon's dick, and he's just. Gorgeous. Brendon had thought that Ryan was girl pretty when they first met, but he's unmistakably male and all the more beautiful for it, if that's even the right word to use. And it's so hard for him to not just come right then and there, but there is no way Brendon's letting that happen again, not with Ryan on top of him, starting to shift his hips a little, looking down at Brendon with the tiniest of smiles curving his lips.
Even with such determination, it's hard to keep his cool, because Ryan is making these noises, and the friction against his cock feels so damn good. And then Brendon figures out that if he moves his hips too, that makes Ryan get even louder, and that's the beginning of the end. Because there's only so much that Brendon can take, okay?
"Ry--Ryan, gonna...!"
Ryan is rolling his eyes, but he fists his cock and starts stroking it fast, trying to finish himself off, but Brendon can't hold off any longer. His climax hits, and it's nothing like he's ever felt, by himself, mouth pressed into his pillow, trying to make sure nobody in his house can hear him, because his body is a temple and he shouldn't be desecrating it in such a way. But Brendon is seeing stars, and nothing has ever felt this good before, ever.
He's just starting to come down when Ryan's orgasm hits, come splattering Brendon's chest, shoulder, neck. And fuck, that's kind of awesome, if a bit sticky. But even more awesome than that is Ryan slipping off of him and curling up beside him, licking his own come from Brendon's skin. If it were physically possible, Brendon would totally be hard again, but all he wants to do right now is sleep.
"Brendon, you still owe me a date. Also, we have got to work on your stamina. I'd like to have sex for more than two minutes next time, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah...sleep now, talk later."
--
Spencer finds Brendon and Ryan curled up in bed together - and oh God, they're not entirely covered and that's just wrong; Ryan's his best friend, but that doesn't mean he wants to see his junk - and it's really not that much of a surprise. Spencer didn't miss Ryan dragging Brendon away from the bonfire last night. It's actually more surprising that it took this long.
"Hey, douchebag. Wake up," Spencer gives Brendon a not-so-gentle nudge to make sure that he gets his ass in gear and doesn't just ignore him.
"Nnghhh, what? Gyah!" Rolling over and finding Spencer glaring at him is not at all how Brendon wanted to wake up. And apparently his flailing and shriek of manly surprise has woken Ryan as well.
"What the fuck, Spencer. What are you doing here? It's like, ass-o'clock in the morning."
"Yeah, it is, but loverboy here needs to hurry back to his room, since parents are supposed to be arriving in less than an hour to pick everyone up."
And since Spencer's a bitch, he totally smirks when Brendon starts freaking out and scrambling for his clothes. In fact, he only turns away because ew, gross.
Brendon's finally got his clothes on, and Ryan's got the covers pulled up enough that nothing Spencer doesn't want to see is showing, but when Spencer turns around, they're being all soppy and gross and kissing, and it's all that Spencer can do not to make obnoxious gagging noises.
"I'll call you, okay?"
"Sure."
"And I wasn't lying about the jellybean van."
"I know."
"And I--"
"Brendon, shut the fuck up and go already. Your parents are gonna be here soon and you still have to get your shit from your room. Plus, I want to get some more sleep before I have to go to work."
They're kissing again, and while Spencer isn't gagging, it's too much effort for him to not tap his foot impatiently. When they break apart, Spencer grabs Brendon's wrist and tugs him towards the door.
"Ryan, Mom wants you to come over tomorrow for dinner. She thinks that because you're living on campus you're not eating or whatever. So you better show up or she'll think you're dead and will totally hunt you down, and you don't want that."
Ryan makes a noise of that Spencer takes for agreement and waves them both off, sticking his head under his pillow to go back to sleep, presumably, and Spencer walks with Brendon back over to the dorms that the drum major kids were staying at. They're quiet almost the entire way, but right before they go inside, Spencer stops them, staring at Brendon.
"You hurt him, and I'll kill you. Don't think I won't. It's not like one less Mormon in Nevada would be a big deal."
Brendon's looking pretty scared, and while that's sort of the point, Brendon's kind of like a puppy dog and it makes Spencer feel bad.
"You make him happy, so just keep it that way. Okay?"
A nod is all Brendon manages before Spencer's pushing him towards the doors of the dorm.
"Now go get your shit before the Mormons descend and I tell them you were too busy breaking the laws of chastity with a dude to pack your things."
Spencer's pretty amused by the way Brendon runs to do just as he said, following at a much more sedate pace. It's pretty much a given that Spencer's going to be stuck being in Brendon's presence a lot, and while Brendon's not nearly as bad as Spencer once thought he was, it's good to know that he can intimidate him into doing things.
It's not that long before Spencer's up to his room and back down again with his things, scanning the crowd of parents for his mom, and spotting a group of people assaulting Brendon.
("Where's your ring?"
"Oh, it fell off during drills on the field. I tried looking for it, but I couldn't find it."
"Well, we'll just have to get you a new one, won't we?"
"...yeah, of course.")
It's then that Spencer's mom comes out from behind a band geek girl and her family, smiling happily.
"Spencer! How was camp? Did anything interesting happen."
Pausing for just a moment, he just shook his head.
"Not really, just the same old thing, like every other year."