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flash_indie

Grace - Chapter 12

Feb 25, 2007 15:20

Title: Grace - Chapter 12 (part 2)
Rating: M
Fandom: P!atd (Brendon/Ryan)

( A thousand nurses have stolen Catherine from me, stolen my white rabbit and left me sitting here with her broken clock. Tick! it goes, and it’s too slow, too desperate and strained in its timing, the second hand is moving in hours. )

the country inside my head, grace, panic at the disco, bandom

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flash_indie February 27 2007, 00:42:03 UTC

Carindale's hardcore. I love it. I've moved house an appalling amount of times. I lived in england for eight years, and just, I was born here, and we only recently moved back ( ... )

woodenduck February 27 2007, 01:19:44 UTC

Oh. *starts breathing again* you wrote almost-fic in comment form! *makes gabbled noises* Even though I refuse to believe that Brendon would cheat on Ryan. Hahah.

I think Brandon/Brendon happens when they're both single, arrogant assholes at the same party, all glittering lights and pretentious suits, but the champagne is free. Brendon knocks it back, it's cloyingly sweet, and he knows he shouldn't, he knows that it's gonna piss Ryan off, but he doesn't care. His eyes are burning with a different agenda tonight, although Brendon swears he didn't come here just to get wasted and pretend not to watch Ryan make out with his girlfriendBut there's no way Ryan will be pissed, he thinks, because Ryan won't notice. Won't notice through veils of blonde hair and expensive makeup. He won't see through clouds of floral perfume and estrogen, high heels and cinched waists ( ... )

flash_indie February 27 2007, 02:14:57 UTC

He's pretty sure Ryan can't see, pretty sure that Ryan, those big, hazel eyes of his, pretty sure they're still glued to her, his lips like melted wax over her cherry-scented flesh.

And Brandon, he's nothing like Ryan, he's all hard edges, straight lines and a tongue that doesn't so much cut as it slits, slaughters, tears the neck of the victim, leaves it hanging open like the slots in the pokies machines back home. Leaves it like the casualties of your run-of-the-mill African genocide.

Brendon's fingers don't shake as he puts the glass down on the bartop, but his heart, it throbs in his chest, his cock in his pants, Ryan can't see, so it's not...it doesn't matter.

Brandon though, his face is set in something between homicidal irritation and an uncontainable haughtiness. A guy who just fucked a chick he hated, a guy who just watched Passion of the ChristHe moves too quickly though, roadrunner on speed, and he's at Brendon's side before he can think to move away, before he can think to move closer ( ... )

woodenduck February 27 2007, 02:43:23 UTC

And there's venom in Brendon's words, he knows it. In this one moment, he's so angry, furious, livid. At Ryan, because it was meant to be them, it was meant to be him, and he can't, he just can't anymore. He's angry at himself, for coming here, false expectations, wanting something more, something that will inevitably slip through your fingers the moment you try to get a grip on it, like fine white sand when you clench your fist too hard.

But mostly he's mad as hell at Brandon. Mad because he wants to be angry, he wants to yell and throw punches. He hates Brandon for being so collected, for prying where he doesn't belong, asking questions that sting, and they aren't even friends. Last time Brendon checked, they were meant to hate each other.

Brandon's eyes flash darkly, unreadable, inscrutable (but Brendon knows, he knows), and he leans in, voice rough and warning, running sharp currents down Brendon's spine (he knows), as he breathes into Brendon's ear. "Maybe I will," he murmurs, breath warm, moist, clouding, before he leans back ( ... )

woodenduck February 27 2007, 02:48:05 UTC

Also, when did this get less porny and more angsty?

flash_indie February 27 2007, 03:28:45 UTC

There are tiles in the hallway, and Brendon figured that at somewhere like this, someplace where they’re making billions by ripping off ugly businessmen’s wives - the sort with the diamond encrusted dildos, the sort whose only religion is the dollar sign above their bedroom door - well, he kinda figured they’d be able to afford carpet.

Then again, carpet burn is a bitch.

The tiles though, they’re freezing beneath his covered knees, he can feel the icecaps rip at he skin, the bergs jabbing like they’re that famous one, like he’s the goddamn fucking Titanic ( ... )

woodenduck February 27 2007, 03:36:32 UTC

Ahahaha! I love it! I just love this. People are so being linked to this thread. I like how our writing styles are so completely different, as well. Makes me all literary-flutterary.

I think I brought the angst, don't worry. I haven't written angst in ages, but it just... happened.

And no, I haven't read it, but I'll be sure to, because I'm pretty sure that I love you.

flash_indie February 27 2007, 03:46:57 UTC

I love it too, so much fun!

I loved your bits, and it all just, guh, fell together so well. *tears* I'm so proud.

Maybe we both brought the angst, there was no escaping it. Everything I write is angsty though, all of it. Just can't help myself.

Just for the record, I love you too, in like, every sense of the word. I think we should get married, set up house in some lonely Brisbane suburb and just write forever together. That sounds like fun. Lets do that.

woodenduck February 27 2007, 03:54:27 UTC

*sobs* Just so proud! All so hot and angsty and impromptu! It needed the angst. That pairing needs it. It just can't function on lust alone.

And yes! Brisbane writing co-op! We can farm some kind of animal. This could work! But no, I really adore what you write, you have an unquestionable talent. So there.

Anyway, I'm skipping off to have lunch, so have a super afternoon!

flash_indie February 27 2007, 06:36:56 UTC

Ahah, I can't imagine that pairing not being chock-full of angst. (Brendon, he loves Ryan too much really, and Brandon, well, he loves himself too much. It would never work out.)

I adore you too! (Hardly talentless yourself, love) ^^

We should do this more often. Comment co-write galore.

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