Honey, I'm home!
So, okay. I'm back from vacation, and I brought fic! As usual, it wasn't supposed to turn out precisely like this, but what the hey. Also, I kind of want to write a DVD commentary for this one; would anyone else be interested in seeing that?
Title: Don't You Wish...
Author: DF
Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Pairing: Ryan/OFC, past Ryan/Keltie, Brendon/Ryan
Summary: "That's because you're dating a Pussycat Doll," Jon informs Ryan, holding back a snicker. "It will never not be funny." Except when it isn't, anymore.
Note: TThere's any actual reason for this existing, I swear. Mostly it has to do with an amusing chain of untruths, including a misinformed friend (Keltie's dance troupe is PCD-like) and a hastily-removed Wikipedia entry (I don't think Ryan's secretly dating a friend of Keltie's named Caitlin...).
Disclaimer Not real, never was, never will be. All merchandise is real, all lyrics belong to the Pussycat Dolls, except for the one that belongs to Kelis. Caitlin is imaginary, though.
ETA: DVD commentary can be found here.
"Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me," Brendon sings, dancing as he bends to grab a drink out of the refrigerator. Actually, Ryan thinks sourly, dancing wouldn't be the right word. What Brendon's really doing is just shaking his ass.
"Enough," he says wearily, definitely not watching the very tempting sight in front of him. No. Definitely not. "It's been a month. Shouldn't it stop being funny?"
"Never," Brendon vows, tilting his head back to chug his soda. "Never ever ever, Ross."
Ryan sighs and rests his head on the kitchen table. It's times like these that he really regrets telling everyone that he's dating a Pussycat Doll.
..
Caitlin is 23 years old, 5 feet 5 inches tall, and brunette. She's a friend of Keltie's, even though girls have that whole rule about never dating their friends' exes. Keltie set them up, so the point seems rather moot.
(The break up - Ryan doesn't like that word, it seems too harsh, but separation makes it sounds like they're married - was very amicable. Keltie said that she'd always love him as a friend, but she didn't think she was the one for him.
"I can make you happy up to a certain point, I think, but after that... We both knew it wouldn't last forever. It'll just get messy if we put it off any longer" - her exact words, or something to that effect, before she'd kissed Ryan on the forehead and asked him to say something. He hadn't made much of a fuss. He's had enough girlfriends by now to realise that it's never any use, fighting.
He and Keltie are still friends.)
Caitlin is sort of like Keltie. Her sense of humor is a little less subtle, and she's a little brassier, a little more willing to use her sex appeal outside of work, but generally dating her isn't too different from dating Keltie. Ryan hardly has to adapt himself at all.
Caitlin is lactose-intolerant, a cat person, and her favorite flowers are tiger lilies. She hates soggy cereal and occasionally volunteers to give Ryan lapdances. Her major weaknesses are 300-thread count sheets and gourmet chocolate. She exercises for two hours every other day in her grungiest sports bra, takes a shower and then changes into ridiculously expensive lingerie to make herself feel pretty. She may or may not be aware that Ryan's bandmates secretly hate her.
..
Well, okay. They don't hate her. Ryan just doesn't think they're exactly fond of her, either. When they met her, they'd all sized her up with various degrees of subtlety, and Ryan knows Spencer well enough to recognise what it means when he puts that specific, oh-so-neutral face on.
Jon seems affable enough - he told Ryan congratulations, and that he was happy if Ryan was - but he still shares a look or two with Spencer, sometimes.
Brendon, despite his teasing, seems to like Caitlin the most. A couple minutes after introductions, he'd demanded, "What's your opinion of Disney movies?"
She hadn't even blinked - Ryan had warned her - just said, "Cinderella was my favorite, but I saw Mulan about 200 times when it came out."
He nodded approvingly and launched into Be A Man. Caitlin shot Ryan a confused look; he just nodded at her, and after a moment, she got it and joined in.
("Disney, Brendon?" Ryan asked later, to which Brendon said, "Hey, it worked with Jon.")
Brendon smiles at Caitlin when he sees her, so Ryan's pretty sure he approves. He was put out to find that she doesn't play video games, but since she's perfectly willing to cheer him on, Ryan doesn't think Brendon minds all that much.
Spencer, though... Ryan wouldn't mind Spencer's blessing, or at least something more than his carefully neutral thoughts.
"I liked Keltie," Spencer says one day.
"Keltie and I wouldn't have worked out," Ryan says tonelessly, because he kind of thinks they'd worked fine. They'd never needed to change anything. That was good, right? "She says we weren't meant to be long term."
"Of course not," Spencer agrees as if it were obvious. "I still liked her. Do you even care that she broke up with you?"
Ryan considers glaring, or maybe throwing a fit, but it would take too much energy. Instead he shrugs. "Could you maybe try to like Caitlin?" he asks. He could ask why Spencer doesn't like Caitlin, but he doesn't know if he wants to hear the answer. "For me?"
Spencer says, "I'd try to like her if I ever got the feeling that you liked her, too."
..
Brendon is everywhere with that stupid song. And it's not just him; Jon had left a neatly folded Pussycat Dolls t-shirt on Ryan's pillow one day ("you already had the sweatshirt," his note says) and Spencer even bought him the CD. Apparently disapproving of Caitlin doesn't mean he's above making a few laughs at her - at Ryan's - expense.
Brendon is by far the worst, though. He's the one who found the poster, the mug, the hat, the version of the Sims where "Don't Cha" appeared in Simlish. He even found the cosmetics line (Ryan's only a little ashamed to admit that he's actually used this) and the fucking shoe collection. That was supposed to only be out in Norway, for fuck's sake!
And every time Ryan turns around, Brendon's humming, "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me," and attempting to shimmy. It's getting so that whenever Ryan hears that song, even on the radio when he's alone in his car, he looks around for Brendon's wiggling hips.
He doesn't bother to turn it down when Caitlin's there, but she just kind of giggles at him. Ryan doesn't know how to tell her that it's not funny, it's annoying.
Not to mention odd; Brendon can be irritating sometimes, gets fixated on things occasionally, but not to this level. Something's wrong, but Ryan can't figure out what the hell it could be.
..
"I'm cold."
"You always do this, Ross. You always forget that not everywhere in the US is as hot as Vegas, and so you never bring a coat." Brendon laughs as they walk along the street.
"It's summer!" Ryan protests. "No one said Chicago was going to be cold in the summer!"
"Technically, it's spring," Brendon says thoughtfully. "And aren't you supposed to be the responsible one?"
Ryan makes a face at him, but Brendon just laughs again and tugs off his jacket. "Here. I swear, you wear this thing more than I do."
"You'll be cold," Ryan argues, even as he's putting the jacket on. He really is freezing.
"I've got a sweatshirt and a scarf," Brendon points out. "You, however, dress fashionably, which means it's not warm at all. I'll be fine."
"Yeah, okay," Ryan says, settling more comfortably into the jacket. He'd never say it, but sometimes he wonders if his subconscious is making him forget his jackets accidentally on purpose, just so he can bask in the heat of Brendon's borrowed coat. He really likes this jacket. It doesn't hurt that it smells like Brendon - he likes Brendon's cologne, too.
"Hey!" Brendon says suddenly, grabbing Ryan's arm. "Check out the billboard!"
PUSSYCAT DOLLS LIVE MARCH 25TH. Ryan notices that they don't say "in concert". There's a picture, too; all of the girls lined up doing some dance move he thinks he's seen Brendon imitating once or twice.
"Oh," he says. "Hey. Wow."
"Let's go see if we can spot Caitlin," Brendon exclaims, dragging Ryan to get a closer look. Ryan's just amused - amused, that's all - by the fact that Brendon never bothered to let go of his arm.
..
"How's Caitlin?" Jon asks after Ryan gets off the phone with her one day.
"Fine. They've got a new routine that she's practicing," Ryan tells him, automatically repeating what Caitlin had mentioned. "Do you care?"
Jon shrugs. "She's nice. I don't want her to be sick or on fire or anything."
"I thought you didn't like her."
Jon looks thoughtful for a moment. "Anyone who makes my friends happy, I generally like," he says eventually, putting the magazine he was reading down. "Anyone who makes them unhappy, I generally don't like."
"She makes me happy," Ryan declares, and when Jon just looks at him he adds, "And she definitely makes Brendon happy. I think he's killed himself laughing three times over this week alone."
Jon laughs a little and settles back into the couch, picking up his magazine again. "That's because you're dating a Pussycat Doll," he informs Ryan, holding back a snicker. "It will never not be funny."
Ryan rolls his eyes and leaves the room to the sound of Jon singing, "Ooh, you've got it bad I can tell. You want it bad, but oh well."
He doesn't even wonder if Jon's song choice is purposeful. No, really, he doesn't. He's just glad it's a different song.
..
"Hey, Ryan!" Spencer calls the next day. "I was talking to Jon yesterday."
Ryan makes a noncommittal noise and waits for the inevitable comment about Caitlin.
"Did you ever watch that documentary Brendon was bugging us about, the one about deepsea marine animals?" Spencer asks instead, and Ryan is so surprised that it takes him a moment to respond.
"I'm pretty sure he just wanted to watch it because it was called 'Under the Sea' and he liked the Little Mermaid reference," he replies eventually. "So no."
"We did," Spencer tells him. "It was actually pretty cool. You know, the sea is pretty happy if you look at it from the beach, it's all waves and dolphins and shit. But once you go below the surface there's all this insane stuff going on that you'd never suspect."
Ryan frowns. "Does this have a point?" he asks. "Because I don't think I'm getting it."
Spencer sighs the special sigh he saves for when someone is being particularly dense. "All I'm saying is Jon and I aren't the ones you have to worry about."
Ryan thinks for a moment and groans. "Pete is never going to let me hear the end of this," he mutters.
Spencer sighs again. "Denial isn't a good look for you, Ryan," he says, rolling his eyes. "Get over it."
..
"I'm not in denial," Ryan tells himself, tapping his foot. "I'm not. Why would I be in denial? There's nothing to deny."
It's a rather pathetic attempt, and he drops onto his bed, silently cursing Spencer. It was so much easier to pretend when he didn't have to think about it.
..
Brendon stretches up to grab a bowl for his cereal, making his shirt ride up and expose a tiny, pale sliver of torso. Ryan watches that thin expanse of skin disappear as Brendon drops back down again, his prize - the bowl - clutched in his hand.
"Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me," he sings, shaking his ass as he pours the cereal in.
No, I don't wish my girlfriend was hot like you, I wish my girlfriend was you, Ryan thinks, and then immediately after, Oh god.
..
See, the problem is, Ryan and Brendon used to have a thing, one which was mostly comprised of many unsaid words, a few makeout sessions - Ryan hates that phrase, it sounds so childish, but maybe that's what they were - and some late night cuddling on the couch.
It didn't end badly, not really. They didn't start fighting or anything, that's not why. Ryan was just - is just - a little scared of things going too well.
So one day he went out and found a girl after the show, and their thing just dissolved. Maybe it's his fault for ending it, Ryan thinks irritatedly, but Brendon didn't bother to fight for them either.
He and Brendon are still friends, obviously.
..
For some reason he apparently still wants to have sex with Brendon. Whatever. He'll get over it.
His subconscious has no business putting those thoughts in his head, though. It's not his fucking fault.
..
When Ryan turns 22, he has two birthday parties,one which he thinks of as the Ashlee party and one which he thinks of as the Patrick party. The former is the public party, with all his friends but also people he barely knows, who are just for a party, guaranteed to go wild but not too crazy. That's the party the press knows about. Pete's throwing it, of course, with help from Caitlin, who's inviting some of her dancer friends.
Pete's actually throwing the second party, too, but this time Brendon is helping, with the occasional input from Spencer and Jon. It's only DecayDance people, very elite boys club except for the odd girl here and there. Very exclusive, and very private; no press, no outsiders, no rumors. Pete's good when it comes to things like that, which makes Ryan wonder just how intentional the leaking of those pictures of his dick was.
Ryan got his nicknames for the two parties because the first one is the one where Ashlee will be at Pete's elbow, and they'll be caught making out in a corner at least twice. The second party is the one where Pete and Patrick will be inseparable.
(Girlfriends aren't allowed to come to the Patrick party, not unless they're on the label. To them, it's just something Pete is doing, something for the label, you know how he gets sometimes.)
Ryan prefers the Patrick party. It's nice to be around people who know him.
..
"In honor of the birthday of our dear Ryan Ross, we have a special treat," Pete announces grandly. Most of the people in the room are slightly buzzed, not like the crowd of wasted people an hour into last week's Ashlee party.
Ryan himself is still working through his first drink, but he saw Brendon doggedly knock back two shots in a row before Pete dragged him away to whisper something in his ear. Party business, Ryan figured.
On further reflection, that scene could have something to do with why Pete is standing in front of a microphone, with all the members of DecayDance cheering and laughing. Brendon's just staring down at the ground.
"No, I think you all know about Ryan's budding relationship with Caitlin Mores of the Pussycat Dolls -" Pete waits for the laughter to die down, and dread begins to creep into Ryan's stomach "- and so, thinking of that, Brendon and I have been working on a surprise for weeks. This one's for you, Ryan!"
Pete grins like the asshole that he is and sits down next to Patrick. Well, next to might not be the right phrase. Almost on top of would be a bit more apt.
Brendon, now smiling, walks up to the microphone, followed by a couple others. Ryan sees William, Ryland, the Butcher, Maja, Vicky T, Gabe - fuck, how many people were in on this?
Then Ryan hears the music start up and he knows exactly where this is going. Sure enough, Travis steps up to rap out Busta Rhymes's part, and Brendon sings, "I know you like me..."
He and the rest of the ensemble on stage are dancing in a way that's very familiar. Ryan finally realises that it's the exact same moves the Pussycat Dolls use when they perform, down to the very last thrust and vaguely stripperesque self-caressing.
He's impressed, despite himself. It must have taken ages to perfect the choreography.
If he thinks about the effort this must have taken, he can distract himself from Brendon arching his back up and shimmying in a way that should be illegal. He doesn't have to pay attention to the way Brendon is looking straight at him. Don't you wish...
But by the time the dance break comes, everyone's eyes are on Brendon, because Brendon is sashaying offstage so he can give Patrick a lapdance.
No, really. Ryan chokes on his drink for a second, but there's no mistaking it. There's Patrick's lap, and there's Brendon draping himself all over it. Patrick looks mildly amused - he puts up with these types of antics from Pete all the time - but Pete grimaces over-exaggeratedly and says, "My Patrick. Get your own."
Brendon doesn't skip a beat, lifting his leg up and spinning so he's suddenly straddling Pete. It's so smooth that Ryan would think he'd practised it if he couldn't see Pete's face. He suspects that Pete had come up with the idea of Brendon giving someone a lapdance, but they'd never decided upon a victim. Pete probably suggested Ryan; Ryan's surprised Brendon didn't agree. It's just a joke, after all. Or it was.
What Brendon's doing with Pete is a lot less playful than what he was doing to Patrick. He grinds down, rolling his hips to the rhythm of the song and Ryan's not sure it can be called a lap dance anymore. Ryan's not really sure of anything right not.
The crowd is catcalling, has been since Brendon strutted down to the dancefloor, and they complain when Brendon gets off of Pete and saunters back up to the stage. His ass gets slapped a couple times along the way.
Travis has another verse as Busta, but Ryan doesn't pay attention; he's heard the song enough times before. He knows what's coming.
"I know she loves you," Brendon sings to Travis. "So I understand; I'd probably be just as crazy about you if you were my own man. Maybe next lifetime, possibly - until then old friend, your secret is safe with me." He looks at Ryan exactly once, no more. "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me..."
The rest of the party goes swimmingly.
..
Pete corners him later, after the party. "What'd you think of the surprise?" he crows. "Awesome, right?"
"Absolutely," Ryan says, sarcasm practically dripping off his words. "It was wonderful."
Pete frowns. "The fuck's up your ass? It was funny."
"It really was," Ryan agrees insincerely. "We should have Patrick sing an Ashlee Simpson song at your birthday, so you can see how funny it is."
"Don't be a dick at your own party, Ross," Pete tells him, his face darkening.
"After my own party," Ryan corrects, but he's lost most of the bitterness, for now. He slumps further into his seat. "Sorry."
"'Sfine." Pete gives Ryan a thoughtful look. "You okay, Ryan?"
"Sure." Ryan's voice is flat, and he knows Pete will press him. He adds, "It was a great party."
This apparently satisfies Pete for now, because he says, "It was, wasn't it? Fucking awesome. Hey, you should open Brendon's present. I bet it's hysterical. I've gotta go; Trick's driving me home."
"And let me guess, you won't let him leave?"
"Hey, it's dangerous out there!" Pete protests, attempting to look innocent. It fails. "He could get mugged!"
"In a car?" Ryan wonders dryly, but Pete has already bounced out the door, dragging Patrick behind him. It's just Ryan and the dregs now; Spencer stayed until the bitter end - he's in the bathroom now - but Jon had said his goodbyes already and Brendon had, by all appearances, disappeared.
Brendon's present is at the bottom of the pile. Ryan pulls it out and looks at it for a moment; two presents in one, one neat and rectangular, the other lumpy. The first, he decides, is probably a book on the Pussycat Dolls, if there even is such a thing. He wouldn't put it past Brendon to have one written for the express purpose of giving it to Ryan. The other one... A set of Pussycat Doll sheets and pillowcases? A limited edition Pussycat Dolls costume? The possibilities are endless.
As it turns out, he's completely wrong.
The rectangular present is a book he's been wanting for a while, but never had a chance to buy. The inscription says,
Ryan,
I know that you secretly like inscriptions even though you bitch about then ruining the pristine title page, so I'm writing one anyway. Maybe one day when we're old and wrinkled we'll open this book and you'll say, 'I remember the day you gave me this.' And, since I'll obviously be deaf and forgetful, I'll say, 'Eh? I don't remember that.' And you'll say, 'Of course you don't, Brendon,' and I'll say, 'Is my name Brendon?'
Brendon's writing is getting smaller and smaller; he obviously started running out of room. The last few lines are crossed out, but Ryan can still make out what they say:
And you'll ask, 'Do you remember my name?' and I'll say, 'Of course, Ryan Ross. I remember everything about you.'
The inscription stops there; Brendon's signature at the end is in extra large letters, as if to make up for the squished writing and scratched out lines. Ryan carefully sets the book aside and opens the lumpy package.
It's Brendon's jacket, folded neatly. Under the jacket is a note that says simply, "You seem to like it."
Ryan sits for a moment until Spencer comes out of the bathroom.
"Ready?" he asks.
"For now," Ryan says, clutching the jacket and book as he stands. "Let's go."
..
When she'd broken up with him, Keltie had asked, "When you picture the future, am I ever there?"
"I don't picture the future," he said, and she looked at him curiously.
"Never? You never imagine what it's going to be like when you're forty, or fifty?"
"Band stuff, maybe," he offered. "Where we're going."
"Because the band is important to you," she said sagely, but smiled, too, which took away the pretension. "Never personal stuff?"
He just shook his head.
He tries it now, frowning. What does he want? A house, maybe. Spencer would obviously live next door; their gardens would connect, but they'd have a fence to separate their yards from the neighbours'.
His kitchen would be clean, and when he opened the refrigerator there would never be any beer; that's something he's wanted since he was a kid. Jon could bring over his own if he ever wanted any. There would have to be Capri Sun and Red Bull on hand, though, for Brendon, or else he'd never hear the end of it.
The living room would have huge bookshelves and pictures all over the place, all his friends smiling from the walls and shelves. A guitar, of course. Notebooks.
It's funny - he would've thought he'd want a stylish living room, all angles and sleek lines like the edgier home magazines, but apparently his subconscious has other ideas. A comfortable sofa, a big TV. A baby grand piano in the corner - he doesn't even play piano. There's a tasteful glass coffee table, but it's got footprints and an old cup of coffee on it.
The imaginary Ryan this all belongs to shout out, "Hey! Mugs go in the sink!"
Who else lives there? Ryan wonders, feeling strangely out of control in his own head. Who else lives with him? Wife, girlfriend, roommate?
"I know, I know!" a familiar voice calls back, and Brendon wanders in. Ryan suddenly knows that his bare feet will be a perfect match to the prints on the coffee table. "I'm sorry, I just got an idea for those lyrics you showed me - here, I'll show you -"
He moves towards the piano, but imaginary Ryan grabs his wrist, points to the mug. "Sink," he commands.
"Slavedriver," Brendon teases, dropping a quick kiss on Ryan's lips before grabbing the mug. "I -"
Ryan shuts down the fantasy violently. He doesn't want that with Brendon, he tells himself. All he was thinking was sex, not fucking - fucking domesticity. He's not a domestic person.
He wants furniture so fashionable it's on the verge of being uncomfortable. He wants a girlfriend with nice hair who he can have conversations with but doesn't mind if he shuts himself up all day writing music. He doesn't want something complicated that he's not in control of.
Above all, he doesn't want a messy living room with a cheerfully overstuffed couch - perfect for cuddling, his traitorous mind tells him - and footprints on the coffee table. He doesn't. He can't.
..
"Do you ever think about what life is going to be like when you're older?" he asks Caitlin abruptly when they're on the phone one day.
She sounds thoughtful when she says, "I don't really like to. All us Dolls will have to find something else to do when we get old. I wouldn't mind owning a dance studio, maybe, or getting married or something. I don't know. Why?"
"No reason," he makes himself say. It's a fine answer. It really is. (He tries to remember what Caitlin got him for his birthday; for some reason, he can't remember.) "I don't know. Something Keltie said once, maybe."
Caitlin's friends with Keltie, but she still doesn't like it when the ex is brought up in casual conversation. She changes the subject.
..
"Well, yeah," Brendon says when he asks. "Sometimes."
"What do you think?" Ryan presses.
Brendon grins, but there's a bit of a wistful edge to it. "Can't tell you or it won't come true."
"That's wishes," Ryan complains.
"Exactly," Brendon says, as if it's obvious. "You think I'm picturing bad things? Why, what do you imagine?"
"Can't ask if you won't tell," Ryan manages to say, but before Brendon can ask why the sudden line of questioning, he adds, "You've stopped singing that song."
Brendon shrugs. "I figured I couldn't really top your party. Besides, if she's going to be here for a while I should probably get over it, right?"
"Right," Ryan says. "Okay."
..
When he gets home he sits on his bed for half an hour, not doing anything, not even answering his phone when it rings.
Then he goes downstairs and gets in the car.
..
"I broke up with Caitlin," he announces four and a half hours later. Brendon stares at him, surprised.
"What? Why?"
Ryan just shrugs. "Spencer said I didn't care when Keltie broke up with me," he says suddenly. Brendon stays silent. "I thought I wanted to marry her. So why didn't I do anything when she broke up with me?"
Ryan stands up and sits down again, perching on the arm of the couch. Brendon, sitting cross-legged on the couch, has to look up to see him. "You can still ask Keltie to go out with you again," he offers.
"No. If I wanted to date Keltie I would still be with Caitlin." Ryan frowns, realising that doesn't make any sense, and amends it. "Dating Keltie was easy. Caitlin was enough like Keltie that that was easy, too. But why do you think I didn't do anything?"
He's not asking what he's asking, but he's Ryan of the thousand metaphors; sometimes he just doesn't like saying what he means.
"Because you wanted to stay friends," Brendon says now, drawing his knees up to his chest. "You talked so much about how fighting the end was pointless, and you figured that maybe you were wrong about you two being right for each other, and you were afraid that she would get mad at you if you pushed."
"Really?" Ryan asks, and Brendon slouches down a little.
"I don't know. Why did you?"
"I think it was probably because I didn't care," Ryan says thoughtfully. He'd definitely had enough time to figure it out on the trip to see Caitlin. He'd liked being with Keltie, but he was fine being without her, too.
"But you said you wanted to marry her," Brendon reminds him, and Ryan says, "I said I thought I wanted to marry her. It would've been... uncomplicated."
"Wouldn't that have gotten kind of boring after a while?" Brendon wonders, slightly hesitant but with the corners of his mouth beginning to quirk upwards.
He looks happy when Ryan laughs suddenly. "Yes. So it's probably a good thing that she dumped me." He pauses and then asks, "Were you really worried that I'd get angry?"
"I was talking about you and Keltie," Brendon answers, too quickly for him not to know what Ryan's talking about.
Ryan is skeptical. "Really?"
Brendon draws his knees a little closer, rests his chin on them. "Maybe not." When Ryan looks mildly triumphant, he continues, "But I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do! You were my first actual relationship, or whatever it was, and you'd been talking about how fighting the end was pointless, and the band was still kind of new and I just didn't want to fuck anything up."
"You wouldn't have," Ryan says.
Brendon snorts. "Why do you care so much now? You did have a choice of whether or not to hook up with that girl, you know."
"You weren't the only one who didn't know what the fuck he was doing," Ryan replies quietly. "I get suspicious when too many good things happen at a time."
"Good for you." Brendon sighs. "What are you asking, Ross? What's the point of this whole conversation?"
"I didn't fight when Keltie dumped me because I didn't care," Ryan repeats.
"What - oh." Brendon looks up at Ryan and frowns. He gets it, Ryan knows. Of course he does. "Of course I cared, Ross. I was pretty much in love with you."
Ryan sits back a little, surprised. "Seriously?"
"No, I'm lying." Brendon rolls his eyes. "Yes, seriously. Why do you think I cared so much about not fucking things up? I didn't want you to hate me forever."
"You were in love with me, you didn't say anything when I went out with that girl."
"Why do you keep talking about how I didn't do anything?" Brendon demands, finally unfolding and standing up fully. Ryan stands up too, to match. "You were the one who went with that chick in the first place. How the fuck was I supposed to know if it actually mattered to you?"
"It did," Ryan insists. "That's why I fucked up. And I'm sorry."
"That might've been helpful back then," Brendon tells him. "If you wanted to get back together so badly, why didn't you do anything? It's not like -"
Ryan kisses him. Brendon, astonished, can't help but kiss back.
"So, okay," he says when Ryan pulls away. His hands have somehow ended up tangles in Ryan's hair. "I'm a little confused."
"If I say that what I thought I wanted wasn't actually what I wanted at all, would it be too cliche?" Ryan wonders, one hand curling around the back of Brendon's neck, the other settling comfortably on his waist.
"Do I get to be one of the things you want?"
Ryan gives him a look clearly meant to convey the fact that A) he just kissed Brendon and B) they're standing less than an inch apart.
"Okay. Then no, it won't be."
"Alright. What I thought I wanted wasn't actually what I wanted at all. Also, it's possible that I'm a little bit in love with you."
"I can't blame you," Brendon says seriously, leaning forward so their foreheads touch. "I mean, no one is hot like me." He wiggles his hips so slightly Ryan wouldn't have noticed if they weren't pressed together.
"If you sing that song again I'm walking out the door," he threatens, lying through his teeth.
Brendon laughs. "You'd come back," he says confidently. "My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. Or, you know, the living room."
Purely to stop him from quoting more songs, Ryan kisses him.
No, wait. Wasn't the whole point of this for Ryan to stop lying to himself? He kisses Brendon because he wants to. Shutting him up is just a side benefit.
Nobody gonna love me better, I will stick with you forever...
Forever. Suddenly, that sounds like a pretty nice word.
Title: Don't You Wish...
Author: DF
Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Pairing: Ryan/OFC, past Ryan/Keltie, Brendon/Ryan
Summary: "That's because you're dating a Pussycat Doll," Jon informs Ryan, holding back a snicker. "It will never not be funny." Except when it isn't, anymore.
Note: TThere's any actual reason for this existing, I swear. Mostly it has to do with an amusing chain of untruths, including a misinformed friend (Keltie's dance troupe is PCD-like) and a hastily-removed Wikipedia entry (I don't think Ryan's secretly dating a friend of Keltie's named Caitlin...).
Disclaimer Not real, never was, never will be. All merchandise is real, all lyrics belong to the Pussycat Dolls, except for the one that belongs to Kelis. Caitlin is imaginary, though.
ETA: DVD commentary can be found here.
"Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me," Brendon sings, dancing as he bends to grab a drink out of the refrigerator. Actually, Ryan thinks sourly, dancing wouldn't be the right word. What Brendon's really doing is just shaking his ass.
"Enough," he says wearily, definitely not watching the very tempting sight in front of him. No. Definitely not. "It's been a month. Shouldn't it stop being funny?"
"Never," Brendon vows, tilting his head back to chug his soda. "Never ever ever, Ross."
Ryan sighs and rests his head on the kitchen table. It's times like these that he really regrets telling everyone that he's dating a Pussycat Doll.
..
Caitlin is 23 years old, 5 feet 5 inches tall, and brunette. She's a friend of Keltie's, even though girls have that whole rule about never dating their friends' exes. Keltie set them up, so the point seems rather moot.
(The break up - Ryan doesn't like that word, it seems too harsh, but separation makes it sounds like they're married - was very amicable. Keltie said that she'd always love him as a friend, but she didn't think she was the one for him.
"I can make you happy up to a certain point, I think, but after that... We both knew it wouldn't last forever. It'll just get messy if we put it off any longer" - her exact words, or something to that effect, before she'd kissed Ryan on the forehead and asked him to say something. He hadn't made much of a fuss. He's had enough girlfriends by now to realise that it's never any use, fighting.
He and Keltie are still friends.)
Caitlin is sort of like Keltie. Her sense of humor is a little less subtle, and she's a little brassier, a little more willing to use her sex appeal outside of work, but generally dating her isn't too different from dating Keltie. Ryan hardly has to adapt himself at all.
Caitlin is lactose-intolerant, a cat person, and her favorite flowers are tiger lilies. She hates soggy cereal and occasionally volunteers to give Ryan lapdances. Her major weaknesses are 300-thread count sheets and gourmet chocolate. She exercises for two hours every other day in her grungiest sports bra, takes a shower and then changes into ridiculously expensive lingerie to make herself feel pretty. She may or may not be aware that Ryan's bandmates secretly hate her.
..
Well, okay. They don't hate her. Ryan just doesn't think they're exactly fond of her, either. When they met her, they'd all sized her up with various degrees of subtlety, and Ryan knows Spencer well enough to recognise what it means when he puts that specific, oh-so-neutral face on.
Jon seems affable enough - he told Ryan congratulations, and that he was happy if Ryan was - but he still shares a look or two with Spencer, sometimes.
Brendon, despite his teasing, seems to like Caitlin the most. A couple minutes after introductions, he'd demanded, "What's your opinion of Disney movies?"
She hadn't even blinked - Ryan had warned her - just said, "Cinderella was my favorite, but I saw Mulan about 200 times when it came out."
He nodded approvingly and launched into Be A Man. Caitlin shot Ryan a confused look; he just nodded at her, and after a moment, she got it and joined in.
("Disney, Brendon?" Ryan asked later, to which Brendon said, "Hey, it worked with Jon.")
Brendon smiles at Caitlin when he sees her, so Ryan's pretty sure he approves. He was put out to find that she doesn't play video games, but since she's perfectly willing to cheer him on, Ryan doesn't think Brendon minds all that much.
Spencer, though... Ryan wouldn't mind Spencer's blessing, or at least something more than his carefully neutral thoughts.
"I liked Keltie," Spencer says one day.
"Keltie and I wouldn't have worked out," Ryan says tonelessly, because he kind of thinks they'd worked fine. They'd never needed to change anything. That was good, right? "She says we weren't meant to be long term."
"Of course not," Spencer agrees as if it were obvious. "I still liked her. Do you even care that she broke up with you?"
Ryan considers glaring, or maybe throwing a fit, but it would take too much energy. Instead he shrugs. "Could you maybe try to like Caitlin?" he asks. He could ask why Spencer doesn't like Caitlin, but he doesn't know if he wants to hear the answer. "For me?"
Spencer says, "I'd try to like her if I ever got the feeling that you liked her, too."
..
Brendon is everywhere with that stupid song. And it's not just him; Jon had left a neatly folded Pussycat Dolls t-shirt on Ryan's pillow one day ("you already had the sweatshirt," his note says) and Spencer even bought him the CD. Apparently disapproving of Caitlin doesn't mean he's above making a few laughs at her - at Ryan's - expense.
Brendon is by far the worst, though. He's the one who found the poster, the mug, the hat, the version of the Sims where "Don't Cha" appeared in Simlish. He even found the cosmetics line (Ryan's only a little ashamed to admit that he's actually used this) and the fucking shoe collection. That was supposed to only be out in Norway, for fuck's sake!
And every time Ryan turns around, Brendon's humming, "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me," and attempting to shimmy. It's getting so that whenever Ryan hears that song, even on the radio when he's alone in his car, he looks around for Brendon's wiggling hips.
He doesn't bother to turn it down when Caitlin's there, but she just kind of giggles at him. Ryan doesn't know how to tell her that it's not funny, it's annoying.
Not to mention odd; Brendon can be irritating sometimes, gets fixated on things occasionally, but not to this level. Something's wrong, but Ryan can't figure out what the hell it could be.
..
"I'm cold."
"You always do this, Ross. You always forget that not everywhere in the US is as hot as Vegas, and so you never bring a coat." Brendon laughs as they walk along the street.
"It's summer!" Ryan protests. "No one said Chicago was going to be cold in the summer!"
"Technically, it's spring," Brendon says thoughtfully. "And aren't you supposed to be the responsible one?"
Ryan makes a face at him, but Brendon just laughs again and tugs off his jacket. "Here. I swear, you wear this thing more than I do."
"You'll be cold," Ryan argues, even as he's putting the jacket on. He really is freezing.
"I've got a sweatshirt and a scarf," Brendon points out. "You, however, dress fashionably, which means it's not warm at all. I'll be fine."
"Yeah, okay," Ryan says, settling more comfortably into the jacket. He'd never say it, but sometimes he wonders if his subconscious is making him forget his jackets accidentally on purpose, just so he can bask in the heat of Brendon's borrowed coat. He really likes this jacket. It doesn't hurt that it smells like Brendon - he likes Brendon's cologne, too.
"Hey!" Brendon says suddenly, grabbing Ryan's arm. "Check out the billboard!"
PUSSYCAT DOLLS LIVE MARCH 25TH. Ryan notices that they don't say "in concert". There's a picture, too; all of the girls lined up doing some dance move he thinks he's seen Brendon imitating once or twice.
"Oh," he says. "Hey. Wow."
"Let's go see if we can spot Caitlin," Brendon exclaims, dragging Ryan to get a closer look. Ryan's just amused - amused, that's all - by the fact that Brendon never bothered to let go of his arm.
..
"How's Caitlin?" Jon asks after Ryan gets off the phone with her one day.
"Fine. They've got a new routine that she's practicing," Ryan tells him, automatically repeating what Caitlin had mentioned. "Do you care?"
Jon shrugs. "She's nice. I don't want her to be sick or on fire or anything."
"I thought you didn't like her."
Jon looks thoughtful for a moment. "Anyone who makes my friends happy, I generally like," he says eventually, putting the magazine he was reading down. "Anyone who makes them unhappy, I generally don't like."
"She makes me happy," Ryan declares, and when Jon just looks at him he adds, "And she definitely makes Brendon happy. I think he's killed himself laughing three times over this week alone."
Jon laughs a little and settles back into the couch, picking up his magazine again. "That's because you're dating a Pussycat Doll," he informs Ryan, holding back a snicker. "It will never not be funny."
Ryan rolls his eyes and leaves the room to the sound of Jon singing, "Ooh, you've got it bad I can tell. You want it bad, but oh well."
He doesn't even wonder if Jon's song choice is purposeful. No, really, he doesn't. He's just glad it's a different song.
..
"Hey, Ryan!" Spencer calls the next day. "I was talking to Jon yesterday."
Ryan makes a noncommittal noise and waits for the inevitable comment about Caitlin.
"Did you ever watch that documentary Brendon was bugging us about, the one about deepsea marine animals?" Spencer asks instead, and Ryan is so surprised that it takes him a moment to respond.
"I'm pretty sure he just wanted to watch it because it was called 'Under the Sea' and he liked the Little Mermaid reference," he replies eventually. "So no."
"We did," Spencer tells him. "It was actually pretty cool. You know, the sea is pretty happy if you look at it from the beach, it's all waves and dolphins and shit. But once you go below the surface there's all this insane stuff going on that you'd never suspect."
Ryan frowns. "Does this have a point?" he asks. "Because I don't think I'm getting it."
Spencer sighs the special sigh he saves for when someone is being particularly dense. "All I'm saying is Jon and I aren't the ones you have to worry about."
Ryan thinks for a moment and groans. "Pete is never going to let me hear the end of this," he mutters.
Spencer sighs again. "Denial isn't a good look for you, Ryan," he says, rolling his eyes. "Get over it."
..
"I'm not in denial," Ryan tells himself, tapping his foot. "I'm not. Why would I be in denial? There's nothing to deny."
It's a rather pathetic attempt, and he drops onto his bed, silently cursing Spencer. It was so much easier to pretend when he didn't have to think about it.
..
Brendon stretches up to grab a bowl for his cereal, making his shirt ride up and expose a tiny, pale sliver of torso. Ryan watches that thin expanse of skin disappear as Brendon drops back down again, his prize - the bowl - clutched in his hand.
"Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me," he sings, shaking his ass as he pours the cereal in.
No, I don't wish my girlfriend was hot like you, I wish my girlfriend was you, Ryan thinks, and then immediately after, Oh god.
..
See, the problem is, Ryan and Brendon used to have a thing, one which was mostly comprised of many unsaid words, a few makeout sessions - Ryan hates that phrase, it sounds so childish, but maybe that's what they were - and some late night cuddling on the couch.
It didn't end badly, not really. They didn't start fighting or anything, that's not why. Ryan was just - is just - a little scared of things going too well.
So one day he went out and found a girl after the show, and their thing just dissolved. Maybe it's his fault for ending it, Ryan thinks irritatedly, but Brendon didn't bother to fight for them either.
He and Brendon are still friends, obviously.
..
For some reason he apparently still wants to have sex with Brendon. Whatever. He'll get over it.
His subconscious has no business putting those thoughts in his head, though. It's not his fucking fault.
..
When Ryan turns 22, he has two birthday parties,one which he thinks of as the Ashlee party and one which he thinks of as the Patrick party. The former is the public party, with all his friends but also people he barely knows, who are just for a party, guaranteed to go wild but not too crazy. That's the party the press knows about. Pete's throwing it, of course, with help from Caitlin, who's inviting some of her dancer friends.
Pete's actually throwing the second party, too, but this time Brendon is helping, with the occasional input from Spencer and Jon. It's only DecayDance people, very elite boys club except for the odd girl here and there. Very exclusive, and very private; no press, no outsiders, no rumors. Pete's good when it comes to things like that, which makes Ryan wonder just how intentional the leaking of those pictures of his dick was.
Ryan got his nicknames for the two parties because the first one is the one where Ashlee will be at Pete's elbow, and they'll be caught making out in a corner at least twice. The second party is the one where Pete and Patrick will be inseparable.
(Girlfriends aren't allowed to come to the Patrick party, not unless they're on the label. To them, it's just something Pete is doing, something for the label, you know how he gets sometimes.)
Ryan prefers the Patrick party. It's nice to be around people who know him.
..
"In honor of the birthday of our dear Ryan Ross, we have a special treat," Pete announces grandly. Most of the people in the room are slightly buzzed, not like the crowd of wasted people an hour into last week's Ashlee party.
Ryan himself is still working through his first drink, but he saw Brendon doggedly knock back two shots in a row before Pete dragged him away to whisper something in his ear. Party business, Ryan figured.
On further reflection, that scene could have something to do with why Pete is standing in front of a microphone, with all the members of DecayDance cheering and laughing. Brendon's just staring down at the ground.
"No, I think you all know about Ryan's budding relationship with Caitlin Mores of the Pussycat Dolls -" Pete waits for the laughter to die down, and dread begins to creep into Ryan's stomach "- and so, thinking of that, Brendon and I have been working on a surprise for weeks. This one's for you, Ryan!"
Pete grins like the asshole that he is and sits down next to Patrick. Well, next to might not be the right phrase. Almost on top of would be a bit more apt.
Brendon, now smiling, walks up to the microphone, followed by a couple others. Ryan sees William, Ryland, the Butcher, Maja, Vicky T, Gabe - fuck, how many people were in on this?
Then Ryan hears the music start up and he knows exactly where this is going. Sure enough, Travis steps up to rap out Busta Rhymes's part, and Brendon sings, "I know you like me..."
He and the rest of the ensemble on stage are dancing in a way that's very familiar. Ryan finally realises that it's the exact same moves the Pussycat Dolls use when they perform, down to the very last thrust and vaguely stripperesque self-caressing.
He's impressed, despite himself. It must have taken ages to perfect the choreography.
If he thinks about the effort this must have taken, he can distract himself from Brendon arching his back up and shimmying in a way that should be illegal. He doesn't have to pay attention to the way Brendon is looking straight at him. Don't you wish...
But by the time the dance break comes, everyone's eyes are on Brendon, because Brendon is sashaying offstage so he can give Patrick a lapdance.
No, really. Ryan chokes on his drink for a second, but there's no mistaking it. There's Patrick's lap, and there's Brendon draping himself all over it. Patrick looks mildly amused - he puts up with these types of antics from Pete all the time - but Pete grimaces over-exaggeratedly and says, "My Patrick. Get your own."
Brendon doesn't skip a beat, lifting his leg up and spinning so he's suddenly straddling Pete. It's so smooth that Ryan would think he'd practised it if he couldn't see Pete's face. He suspects that Pete had come up with the idea of Brendon giving someone a lapdance, but they'd never decided upon a victim. Pete probably suggested Ryan; Ryan's surprised Brendon didn't agree. It's just a joke, after all. Or it was.
What Brendon's doing with Pete is a lot less playful than what he was doing to Patrick. He grinds down, rolling his hips to the rhythm of the song and Ryan's not sure it can be called a lap dance anymore. Ryan's not really sure of anything right not.
The crowd is catcalling, has been since Brendon strutted down to the dancefloor, and they complain when Brendon gets off of Pete and saunters back up to the stage. His ass gets slapped a couple times along the way.
Travis has another verse as Busta, but Ryan doesn't pay attention; he's heard the song enough times before. He knows what's coming.
"I know she loves you," Brendon sings to Travis. "So I understand; I'd probably be just as crazy about you if you were my own man. Maybe next lifetime, possibly - until then old friend, your secret is safe with me." He looks at Ryan exactly once, no more. "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me..."
The rest of the party goes swimmingly.
..
Pete corners him later, after the party. "What'd you think of the surprise?" he crows. "Awesome, right?"
"Absolutely," Ryan says, sarcasm practically dripping off his words. "It was wonderful."
Pete frowns. "The fuck's up your ass? It was funny."
"It really was," Ryan agrees insincerely. "We should have Patrick sing an Ashlee Simpson song at your birthday, so you can see how funny it is."
"Don't be a dick at your own party, Ross," Pete tells him, his face darkening.
"After my own party," Ryan corrects, but he's lost most of the bitterness, for now. He slumps further into his seat. "Sorry."
"'Sfine." Pete gives Ryan a thoughtful look. "You okay, Ryan?"
"Sure." Ryan's voice is flat, and he knows Pete will press him. He adds, "It was a great party."
This apparently satisfies Pete for now, because he says, "It was, wasn't it? Fucking awesome. Hey, you should open Brendon's present. I bet it's hysterical. I've gotta go; Trick's driving me home."
"And let me guess, you won't let him leave?"
"Hey, it's dangerous out there!" Pete protests, attempting to look innocent. It fails. "He could get mugged!"
"In a car?" Ryan wonders dryly, but Pete has already bounced out the door, dragging Patrick behind him. It's just Ryan and the dregs now; Spencer stayed until the bitter end - he's in the bathroom now - but Jon had said his goodbyes already and Brendon had, by all appearances, disappeared.
Brendon's present is at the bottom of the pile. Ryan pulls it out and looks at it for a moment; two presents in one, one neat and rectangular, the other lumpy. The first, he decides, is probably a book on the Pussycat Dolls, if there even is such a thing. He wouldn't put it past Brendon to have one written for the express purpose of giving it to Ryan. The other one... A set of Pussycat Doll sheets and pillowcases? A limited edition Pussycat Dolls costume? The possibilities are endless.
As it turns out, he's completely wrong.
The rectangular present is a book he's been wanting for a while, but never had a chance to buy. The inscription says,
Ryan,
I know that you secretly like inscriptions even though you bitch about then ruining the pristine title page, so I'm writing one anyway. Maybe one day when we're old and wrinkled we'll open this book and you'll say, 'I remember the day you gave me this.' And, since I'll obviously be deaf and forgetful, I'll say, 'Eh? I don't remember that.' And you'll say, 'Of course you don't, Brendon,' and I'll say, 'Is my name Brendon?'
Brendon's writing is getting smaller and smaller; he obviously started running out of room. The last few lines are crossed out, but Ryan can still make out what they say:
And you'll ask, 'Do you remember my name?' and I'll say, 'Of course, Ryan Ross. I remember everything about you.'
The inscription stops there; Brendon's signature at the end is in extra large letters, as if to make up for the squished writing and scratched out lines. Ryan carefully sets the book aside and opens the lumpy package.
It's Brendon's jacket, folded neatly. Under the jacket is a note that says simply, "You seem to like it."
Ryan sits for a moment until Spencer comes out of the bathroom.
"Ready?" he asks.
"For now," Ryan says, clutching the jacket and book as he stands. "Let's go."
..
When she'd broken up with him, Keltie had asked, "When you picture the future, am I ever there?"
"I don't picture the future," he said, and she looked at him curiously.
"Never? You never imagine what it's going to be like when you're forty, or fifty?"
"Band stuff, maybe," he offered. "Where we're going."
"Because the band is important to you," she said sagely, but smiled, too, which took away the pretension. "Never personal stuff?"
He just shook his head.
He tries it now, frowning. What does he want? A house, maybe. Spencer would obviously live next door; their gardens would connect, but they'd have a fence to separate their yards from the neighbours'.
His kitchen would be clean, and when he opened the refrigerator there would never be any beer; that's something he's wanted since he was a kid. Jon could bring over his own if he ever wanted any. There would have to be Capri Sun and Red Bull on hand, though, for Brendon, or else he'd never hear the end of it.
The living room would have huge bookshelves and pictures all over the place, all his friends smiling from the walls and shelves. A guitar, of course. Notebooks.
It's funny - he would've thought he'd want a stylish living room, all angles and sleek lines like the edgier home magazines, but apparently his subconscious has other ideas. A comfortable sofa, a big TV. A baby grand piano in the corner - he doesn't even play piano. There's a tasteful glass coffee table, but it's got footprints and an old cup of coffee on it.
The imaginary Ryan this all belongs to shout out, "Hey! Mugs go in the sink!"
Who else lives there? Ryan wonders, feeling strangely out of control in his own head. Who else lives with him? Wife, girlfriend, roommate?
"I know, I know!" a familiar voice calls back, and Brendon wanders in. Ryan suddenly knows that his bare feet will be a perfect match to the prints on the coffee table. "I'm sorry, I just got an idea for those lyrics you showed me - here, I'll show you -"
He moves towards the piano, but imaginary Ryan grabs his wrist, points to the mug. "Sink," he commands.
"Slavedriver," Brendon teases, dropping a quick kiss on Ryan's lips before grabbing the mug. "I -"
Ryan shuts down the fantasy violently. He doesn't want that with Brendon, he tells himself. All he was thinking was sex, not fucking - fucking domesticity. He's not a domestic person.
He wants furniture so fashionable it's on the verge of being uncomfortable. He wants a girlfriend with nice hair who he can have conversations with but doesn't mind if he shuts himself up all day writing music. He doesn't want something complicated that he's not in control of.
Above all, he doesn't want a messy living room with a cheerfully overstuffed couch - perfect for cuddling, his traitorous mind tells him - and footprints on the coffee table. He doesn't. He can't.
..
"Do you ever think about what life is going to be like when you're older?" he asks Caitlin abruptly when they're on the phone one day.
She sounds thoughtful when she says, "I don't really like to. All us Dolls will have to find something else to do when we get old. I wouldn't mind owning a dance studio, maybe, or getting married or something. I don't know. Why?"
"No reason," he makes himself say. It's a fine answer. It really is. (He tries to remember what Caitlin got him for his birthday; for some reason, he can't remember.) "I don't know. Something Keltie said once, maybe."
Caitlin's friends with Keltie, but she still doesn't like it when the ex is brought up in casual conversation. She changes the subject.
..
"Well, yeah," Brendon says when he asks. "Sometimes."
"What do you think?" Ryan presses.
Brendon grins, but there's a bit of a wistful edge to it. "Can't tell you or it won't come true."
"That's wishes," Ryan complains.
"Exactly," Brendon says, as if it's obvious. "You think I'm picturing bad things? Why, what do you imagine?"
"Can't ask if you won't tell," Ryan manages to say, but before Brendon can ask why the sudden line of questioning, he adds, "You've stopped singing that song."
Brendon shrugs. "I figured I couldn't really top your party. Besides, if she's going to be here for a while I should probably get over it, right?"
"Right," Ryan says. "Okay."
..
When he gets home he sits on his bed for half an hour, not doing anything, not even answering his phone when it rings.
Then he goes downstairs and gets in the car.
..
"I broke up with Caitlin," he announces four and a half hours later. Brendon stares at him, surprised.
"What? Why?"
Ryan just shrugs. "Spencer said I didn't care when Keltie broke up with me," he says suddenly. Brendon stays silent. "I thought I wanted to marry her. So why didn't I do anything when she broke up with me?"
Ryan stands up and sits down again, perching on the arm of the couch. Brendon, sitting cross-legged on the couch, has to look up to see him. "You can still ask Keltie to go out with you again," he offers.
"No. If I wanted to date Keltie I would still be with Caitlin." Ryan frowns, realising that doesn't make any sense, and amends it. "Dating Keltie was easy. Caitlin was enough like Keltie that that was easy, too. But why do you think I didn't do anything?"
He's not asking what he's asking, but he's Ryan of the thousand metaphors; sometimes he just doesn't like saying what he means.
"Because you wanted to stay friends," Brendon says now, drawing his knees up to his chest. "You talked so much about how fighting the end was pointless, and you figured that maybe you were wrong about you two being right for each other, and you were afraid that she would get mad at you if you pushed."
"Really?" Ryan asks, and Brendon slouches down a little.
"I don't know. Why did you?"
"I think it was probably because I didn't care," Ryan says thoughtfully. He'd definitely had enough time to figure it out on the trip to see Caitlin. He'd liked being with Keltie, but he was fine being without her, too.
"But you said you wanted to marry her," Brendon reminds him, and Ryan says, "I said I thought I wanted to marry her. It would've been... uncomplicated."
"Wouldn't that have gotten kind of boring after a while?" Brendon wonders, slightly hesitant but with the corners of his mouth beginning to quirk upwards.
He looks happy when Ryan laughs suddenly. "Yes. So it's probably a good thing that she dumped me." He pauses and then asks, "Were you really worried that I'd get angry?"
"I was talking about you and Keltie," Brendon answers, too quickly for him not to know what Ryan's talking about.
Ryan is skeptical. "Really?"
Brendon draws his knees a little closer, rests his chin on them. "Maybe not." When Ryan looks mildly triumphant, he continues, "But I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do! You were my first actual relationship, or whatever it was, and you'd been talking about how fighting the end was pointless, and the band was still kind of new and I just didn't want to fuck anything up."
"You wouldn't have," Ryan says.
Brendon snorts. "Why do you care so much now? You did have a choice of whether or not to hook up with that girl, you know."
"You weren't the only one who didn't know what the fuck he was doing," Ryan replies quietly. "I get suspicious when too many good things happen at a time."
"Good for you." Brendon sighs. "What are you asking, Ross? What's the point of this whole conversation?"
"I didn't fight when Keltie dumped me because I didn't care," Ryan repeats.
"What - oh." Brendon looks up at Ryan and frowns. He gets it, Ryan knows. Of course he does. "Of course I cared, Ross. I was pretty much in love with you."
Ryan sits back a little, surprised. "Seriously?"
"No, I'm lying." Brendon rolls his eyes. "Yes, seriously. Why do you think I cared so much about not fucking things up? I didn't want you to hate me forever."
"You were in love with me, you didn't say anything when I went out with that girl."
"Why do you keep talking about how I didn't do anything?" Brendon demands, finally unfolding and standing up fully. Ryan stands up too, to match. "You were the one who went with that chick in the first place. How the fuck was I supposed to know if it actually mattered to you?"
"It did," Ryan insists. "That's why I fucked up. And I'm sorry."
"That might've been helpful back then," Brendon tells him. "If you wanted to get back together so badly, why didn't you do anything? It's not like -"
Ryan kisses him. Brendon, astonished, can't help but kiss back.
"So, okay," he says when Ryan pulls away. His hands have somehow ended up tangles in Ryan's hair. "I'm a little confused."
"If I say that what I thought I wanted wasn't actually what I wanted at all, would it be too cliche?" Ryan wonders, one hand curling around the back of Brendon's neck, the other settling comfortably on his waist.
"Do I get to be one of the things you want?"
Ryan gives him a look clearly meant to convey the fact that A) he just kissed Brendon and B) they're standing less than an inch apart.
"Okay. Then no, it won't be."
"Alright. What I thought I wanted wasn't actually what I wanted at all. Also, it's possible that I'm a little bit in love with you."
"I can't blame you," Brendon says seriously, leaning forward so their foreheads touch. "I mean, no one is hot like me." He wiggles his hips so slightly Ryan wouldn't have noticed if they weren't pressed together.
"If you sing that song again I'm walking out the door," he threatens, lying through his teeth.
Brendon laughs. "You'd come back," he says confidently. "My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. Or, you know, the living room."
Purely to stop him from quoting more songs, Ryan kisses him.
No, wait. Wasn't the whole point of this for Ryan to stop lying to himself? He kisses Brendon because he wants to. Shutting him up is just a side benefit.
Nobody gonna love me better, I will stick with you forever...
Forever. Suddenly, that sounds like a pretty nice word.