What Happens On Tour [9/15]
Title: What Happens On Tour…
Author: fuelledbydecay
Pairings: Ryden, some sides
POV: 3rd Person, Brendon
Rating: PG- 13
Warning: Slash, Drug use, Swearing, Sexual References etc.
Summary: Tours can leave you emotionally and physically strained and on the brink of collapse, but when you add tension and lust to that mix will you still be standing or will you fall over into a unknown world where boundaries are blurred and chaos is normality?
Disclaimer: This is completely fictional, all characters own themselves (Apart from Ryan he is totally mine). The plot is the work of my own imagination, so any haters don’t get too carried away. I know its all in my head and in their beds.
Beta: The wonderful Shannonmuffins<3, quitethejoke
A/N: This is probably my favourite chapter I've ever written. Ever. Read the sunrise scene and I hope you'll see why (:
Previous Chapters
9. Hangovers
Brendon woke up to the feel of warmth pressed against his back. A warmth that most definitely should not have been there. He was pretty sure that he had gone to sleep alone. More then pretty sure, he knew he’d gone to sleep alone because that fact had been the one thing that had kept him awake while the other musicians partied in the next room- oblivious to the singer’s inner turmoil.
When his eyes fell open he found that it was still a little dark, just before dawn. Through the dull light, he could see that he was still fully clothed from the night before (which was definitely a good thing). Instantly hating whoever it was for jolting him back to consciousness- snoring softly in his ear was the reason he had woken up. He knew the person sleeping next to him.
He was aware, painfully so, that the person most definitely was not Ryan because whoever it was didn’t smell like home. Stupid, safe, all-consuming home. Why- just why?
It was Spencer. Spencer fucking Smith, pressed up against him, blue eyes hidden under his lavender lids. Spencer Smith, who knew every little tiny detail about Ryan that Brendon didn’t and wouldn’t ever know.
A fresh swell of- whatever the hell it was- washed over him like a cold shower, reigning in the last of his sleepiness until he was dangerously awake. With careful hands he moved Spencer’s legs so that he could crawl out of the bottom of the bunk without waking him. Stumbling out into the walkway with heavy breaths, he wasn’t entirely sure where he was going at this time in the morning- but he did know that he was heading outside.He didn't want to listen to Spencer’s bizarre sounds as he inhaled and exhaled.
He didn’t make it very far outside the bus; just to a small strip of grass to watch the sun rise. The dew that coated the blades beneath him soaked through his jeans and onto his skin, turning it moist but he refused to move, propping himself up on his elbows as the sun slowly rose, proclaiming a new day. He was sure if Pete or Ryan had been with him they would have said something poetic and sagacious, probably mentioning how sunrise could be symbolic of fresh starts and rebirth- but whatever, Brendon wasn’t interested in that philosophical shit, he didn’t have to mask everything in fancy words because in his view the sunrise, as beautiful as it was, was just sunrise.
I know it’s sad but I never gave a damn about the weather and it never gave a damn about me.
His own lyrics filled his mind without bidding, light and teasing like a fleeting wind against his consciousness, demanding his attention yet daring him to forget. So maybe deep down he was slightly poetic, if only the slightest amount, and maybe sometimes his fingers itched to write down the stray lines that entered his head but he wasn’t as ridiculous as Ryan and Pete. He could say the words outright and with as much conviction as possible. That wasn’t the case for Ryan and Pete; they laced their thoughts and feelings between a thousand metaphors, until what they were saying was barely recognisable to them. They hid behind there words.
Brendon wanted to scream at them to stop hiding.
“You’re up early,” Ryan commented from behind him, bare feet crushing the wet grass with a steady pace. Even with his back turned, Brendon could tell that Ryan was smirking, lips cocked to one side, eyes bright with amusement. It was easy to confirm when Ryan sat next to him, sweat pants hung low on his barely there hips.
“Yeah, well. Spencer was snoring in my ear”.
Ryan laughed, comprehension flickering lightly in his caramel eyes as he brought them to Brendon’s, gentle and probing. “I figured as much. As soon as you walked into the bus last night with Pete I guessed Spencer would dive into your bunk."
Brendon blinked.“Why?”
“Spencer has this…tendency to sneak into bed with people when he thinks they’re upset or lonely. He really hates people sleeping alone when they’re down, and well he saw your face last night and I suppose he assumed you needed it.”
“I don’t mind sleeping alone."
Ryan’s smile faded just like they always did; sweet and unassuming until something caused them to disappear and then they would leave that bitter aftertaste behind. “So you were upset?”
Brendon shrugged, breaking the eye contact so that his heartstrings would not tug when he saw the older man’s face crumple. “Maybe.”
It was silent for a while. Not calm and soothing like the silences they used to share. This was a new silence that twisted Brendon’s insides into pretzels and made him want to leave, just disappear forever because he hated these new silences. These silences meant that Ryan was struggling for something to say; which had started happening frequently since the beginning of the tour. Ryan wasn’t supposed to be flustered and panicked; he was supposed to be sarcastic and fucking bold. These were the silences that were left when people ran out of things to say, or had things to say that they just couldn’t communicate without taking a long, long break.
“I, is this about? Because Pete talked to me last night- if you’re upset about that- I mean I wasn’t trying to- you know I didn’t- I wouldn’t ever-”
“You know,” Brendon interrupted dryly- his tone indicating that he really, really didn’t want Ryan broaching the subject at all. Looking at the fiery explosion of orange light disperse through the dull bluish grey sky like ink, tainting and staining as it went, “considering you’re the best lyricist I know, I think you’re the most verbally challenged person I’ve ever met."
“Maybe I’m more profound on paper."
“Or maybe you’re just so fucking terrified of saying what you really mean you dress it up in fancy phrases."
Ryan’s mouth fell shut, his eyes wild. Brendon didn’t care. He thought he’d pretty much hit the nail on the head there. It wasn’t like the stupid nothingness between them wasn’t normal anymore. In fact the thing that wasn’t normal was just how normal the tension had become.
+-+-+
So Brendon may have quietly stormed back to the bus after talking to Ryan. He may also have hidden Ryan’s three favourite paisley scarves inside the pants he was currently wearing just to retaliate, which may have lead to Ryan having a hissy fit, involving tearing the entire bus to pieces, leading to him finding Brendon’s barely-written in diary that may or may not have in depth details of his very private hook ups with several Fuelled By Ramen members over the last couple of years.
But it was one hundred percent, completely Ryan’s fault because he started the stupid conversation in the first place and- okay, fine. It was Brendon’s fault, too. He should have put it somewhere safer, like up his own ass.
“Please tell me none of this is true,” Ryan whispered, sitting on Brendon’s bunk, waving the faded blue diary above his head with long fingers. He looked up expectantly, eyes begging Brendon for a negative response, an “I have no idea what the hell that is” or a “No, Spencer or Jon must’ve put it there for a joke."
What he hadn’t wanted was the darkness that clouded over Brendon’s face, or the hard line of the younger man’s jaw as he slowly became defensive. “What the fuck, Ry? What the hell are you doing going through my things?”
“It’s true then?"
“It’s none of your goddamn business if it is or not!”
“Brendon, you stole my scarves. I was looking for them. This was jammed under the mattress, okay. I wasn’t…snooping."
Brendon snatched the offending item out from the guitarist’s fingers, hugging it close to his chest with childish affection. It was only in this close proximity that he was finally able to read the expression, or lack thereof, on Ryan’s face - a blank canvas that usually meant his emotions were on override under those calm, calm waters and that was all it took to have Brendon frozen, eyes wide and unsure as Ryan’s refused to meet his.
“You’re angry."
“No,” Ryan said quietly, barely a whisper and just like the harsh delivery only a parent can muster he raised his head and uttered the paternal line. “I’m disappointed."
And just no. He just- it’s unfair.
“Fuck you Ryan,” Brendon explodes, throwing the book at Ryan without actually admitting his arms to do so, fire blazing in his cheeks and bubbling under the surface of his huge eyes.“You don’t get to be disappointed with me. Who I hook up with has absolutely nothing to do with you. Absolutely nothing. So you don’t fucking get to sit there and be all fucking judgemental.”
Pink lips opened to speak, parted and on the edge of delivery, but whatever the message is it never arrives. Ryan sealed his mouth shut and raised himself from Brendon’s bunk wordless and guarded. Again Brendon’s limbs worked of their own accord, gripping the top of Ryan’s arm in strong fingers, and Brendon was pretty sure he was going to have to chop his arms off to stop them wandering again.
“Don’t you fucking dare judge me and then walk away,” Brendon growled, ignoring the sting of his eyes. “Don’t you fucking dare."
“What do you want me to say, Brendon?” Ryan demanded, amber eyes close to Brendon’s but still not close enough. “You’ve slept with half the label. I’m not going to pretend that that sort of behaviour’s acceptable."
“And messing around with someone who isn’t your girlfriend is?”
Shit. Brendon knows that he’s crossed the line. He knows by the way Ryan flinches, his eyes narrowing by a fraction of a millimeter- that blow was way below the belt. His tongue tingles after the release of the forbidden words, telling him with a biting sting that he should not have done that. But it’s just not fair, because Ryan hurt his feelings him too. How was Ryan allowed to comment on his promiscuity, practically brand him a slut and then not expect an equally harsh truth back?
Ryan shook Brendon’s hand off his arm; rather Brendon let him, and left, leaving Brendon feeling guilty and irritated with himself.
With one hand he pulled the scarves out of his pants and folded them neatly, taking much more care then was really needed, fingers running over the dainty silk as it rippled like water waves. When he was finished he put the scarves to rest on the pillow of Ryan’s bunk, smoothing out the wrinkles in the sheets before turning away.
He flipped open his diary and pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote down a few angry sentences before dating the entry and slamming the pages shut. The late afternoon sunshine crept into his bunk and onto the patches of his exposed skin, colouring it golden. He quickly threw his curtain shut and slid his eyes closed, wishing for sleep.
Only when had he ever been able to sleep when he knew Ryan was angry at him?
+-+-+
He woke up. Well no shit.
This time it was late. No light flowed in through the high set windows and no quiet chatter came from the lounge. Brendon guessed that either Ryan had told Jon and Spencer what Brendon had said and all three had decided to stay on Fall Out Boy’s bus for the remainder of the tour, or they were all sleeping peacefully in their bunks. Only, please God could it be the latter because he really, really didn’t want to have Spencer defending his best friend and bitching to Brendon in the morning.
Only there’s a frozen sculpture lying just behind him, barely breathing, gentle exhales ghosting under the skin of his ear. He knows this time it’s not Spencer, because Spencer would never have his arm draped across Brendon’s waist, and Spencer would never hold Brendon so protectively, also Spencer most definitely would not freeze to the spot if Brendon woke up and found him lying next to him.
“…R-ryan?” Brendon whispered, twisting in the arms around him to find two bright amber eyes staring startled at him. Ryan didn’t say anything, didn’t even blink as Brendon slowly slipped into consciousness, and then realised Ryan hadn’t meant for him to wake up and find him. Ryan had been planning on watching Brendon sleep in his arms before creeping back into his own bunk. Brendon wasn’t supposed to know that Ryan was holding him, which raised the question; just how many times had Ryan actually done this without Brendon realising?
Brendon was totally over thinking it.
“Did…did I wake you?”
“No, I’m still asleep right now."
“Shut up, asshole."
“Jackass."
The tension eased away quickly, replaced by easy smiles and shaky breaths as they continued on their whirlwind of petty insults. Brendon fell silent, realising that Ryan’s hand had slipped under the hem of his shirt and had started to thumb a small circle into the skin of Brendon’s hip. And oh God did it burn.
Ryan’s smile was lazy again, something that was rare on the young guitarist’s face since “the break up." His brown hair swept over his face slightly, skimming the top of his eyes. Brendon returned the smile gently, looking down to see the bare expanse of Ryan’s throat close and just so kissable in the darkness, snowy white and perfect. He needed to terminate that line of thought right there.
“I’m sorry I made judgements about your private life,” Ryan whispered, his face suddenly serious. “You’re right, it wasn’t fair. I’m sorry."
Brendon nodded. “And I’m sorry about what I said. I was just angry; I didn’t mean it. Sorry."
Ryan’s smile grew just a little bit, faltering when he realised that he was making patterns along Brendon’s hipbones. He muttered by way of apology before exiting the bunk with quick, jerky movements, the curtain fluttering shut behind him. Brendon thought he heard Jon snort softly from the bunk above, pretty sure that he’d been eavesdropping on the entire conversation.
Only he didn’t care because he wasn’t interested in keeping secrets. His secrets just kept him.
Author: fuelledbydecay
Pairings: Ryden, some sides
POV: 3rd Person, Brendon
Rating: PG- 13
Warning: Slash, Drug use, Swearing, Sexual References etc.
Summary: Tours can leave you emotionally and physically strained and on the brink of collapse, but when you add tension and lust to that mix will you still be standing or will you fall over into a unknown world where boundaries are blurred and chaos is normality?
Disclaimer: This is completely fictional, all characters own themselves (Apart from Ryan he is totally mine). The plot is the work of my own imagination, so any haters don’t get too carried away. I know its all in my head and in their beds.
Beta: The wonderful Shannonmuffins<3, quitethejoke
A/N: This is probably my favourite chapter I've ever written. Ever. Read the sunrise scene and I hope you'll see why (:
Previous Chapters
9. Hangovers
Brendon woke up to the feel of warmth pressed against his back. A warmth that most definitely should not have been there. He was pretty sure that he had gone to sleep alone. More then pretty sure, he knew he’d gone to sleep alone because that fact had been the one thing that had kept him awake while the other musicians partied in the next room- oblivious to the singer’s inner turmoil.
When his eyes fell open he found that it was still a little dark, just before dawn. Through the dull light, he could see that he was still fully clothed from the night before (which was definitely a good thing). Instantly hating whoever it was for jolting him back to consciousness- snoring softly in his ear was the reason he had woken up. He knew the person sleeping next to him.
He was aware, painfully so, that the person most definitely was not Ryan because whoever it was didn’t smell like home. Stupid, safe, all-consuming home. Why- just why?
It was Spencer. Spencer fucking Smith, pressed up against him, blue eyes hidden under his lavender lids. Spencer Smith, who knew every little tiny detail about Ryan that Brendon didn’t and wouldn’t ever know.
A fresh swell of- whatever the hell it was- washed over him like a cold shower, reigning in the last of his sleepiness until he was dangerously awake. With careful hands he moved Spencer’s legs so that he could crawl out of the bottom of the bunk without waking him. Stumbling out into the walkway with heavy breaths, he wasn’t entirely sure where he was going at this time in the morning- but he did know that he was heading outside.He didn't want to listen to Spencer’s bizarre sounds as he inhaled and exhaled.
He didn’t make it very far outside the bus; just to a small strip of grass to watch the sun rise. The dew that coated the blades beneath him soaked through his jeans and onto his skin, turning it moist but he refused to move, propping himself up on his elbows as the sun slowly rose, proclaiming a new day. He was sure if Pete or Ryan had been with him they would have said something poetic and sagacious, probably mentioning how sunrise could be symbolic of fresh starts and rebirth- but whatever, Brendon wasn’t interested in that philosophical shit, he didn’t have to mask everything in fancy words because in his view the sunrise, as beautiful as it was, was just sunrise.
I know it’s sad but I never gave a damn about the weather and it never gave a damn about me.
His own lyrics filled his mind without bidding, light and teasing like a fleeting wind against his consciousness, demanding his attention yet daring him to forget. So maybe deep down he was slightly poetic, if only the slightest amount, and maybe sometimes his fingers itched to write down the stray lines that entered his head but he wasn’t as ridiculous as Ryan and Pete. He could say the words outright and with as much conviction as possible. That wasn’t the case for Ryan and Pete; they laced their thoughts and feelings between a thousand metaphors, until what they were saying was barely recognisable to them. They hid behind there words.
Brendon wanted to scream at them to stop hiding.
“You’re up early,” Ryan commented from behind him, bare feet crushing the wet grass with a steady pace. Even with his back turned, Brendon could tell that Ryan was smirking, lips cocked to one side, eyes bright with amusement. It was easy to confirm when Ryan sat next to him, sweat pants hung low on his barely there hips.
“Yeah, well. Spencer was snoring in my ear”.
Ryan laughed, comprehension flickering lightly in his caramel eyes as he brought them to Brendon’s, gentle and probing. “I figured as much. As soon as you walked into the bus last night with Pete I guessed Spencer would dive into your bunk."
Brendon blinked.“Why?”
“Spencer has this…tendency to sneak into bed with people when he thinks they’re upset or lonely. He really hates people sleeping alone when they’re down, and well he saw your face last night and I suppose he assumed you needed it.”
“I don’t mind sleeping alone."
Ryan’s smile faded just like they always did; sweet and unassuming until something caused them to disappear and then they would leave that bitter aftertaste behind. “So you were upset?”
Brendon shrugged, breaking the eye contact so that his heartstrings would not tug when he saw the older man’s face crumple. “Maybe.”
It was silent for a while. Not calm and soothing like the silences they used to share. This was a new silence that twisted Brendon’s insides into pretzels and made him want to leave, just disappear forever because he hated these new silences. These silences meant that Ryan was struggling for something to say; which had started happening frequently since the beginning of the tour. Ryan wasn’t supposed to be flustered and panicked; he was supposed to be sarcastic and fucking bold. These were the silences that were left when people ran out of things to say, or had things to say that they just couldn’t communicate without taking a long, long break.
“I, is this about? Because Pete talked to me last night- if you’re upset about that- I mean I wasn’t trying to- you know I didn’t- I wouldn’t ever-”
“You know,” Brendon interrupted dryly- his tone indicating that he really, really didn’t want Ryan broaching the subject at all. Looking at the fiery explosion of orange light disperse through the dull bluish grey sky like ink, tainting and staining as it went, “considering you’re the best lyricist I know, I think you’re the most verbally challenged person I’ve ever met."
“Maybe I’m more profound on paper."
“Or maybe you’re just so fucking terrified of saying what you really mean you dress it up in fancy phrases."
Ryan’s mouth fell shut, his eyes wild. Brendon didn’t care. He thought he’d pretty much hit the nail on the head there. It wasn’t like the stupid nothingness between them wasn’t normal anymore. In fact the thing that wasn’t normal was just how normal the tension had become.
+-+-+
So Brendon may have quietly stormed back to the bus after talking to Ryan. He may also have hidden Ryan’s three favourite paisley scarves inside the pants he was currently wearing just to retaliate, which may have lead to Ryan having a hissy fit, involving tearing the entire bus to pieces, leading to him finding Brendon’s barely-written in diary that may or may not have in depth details of his very private hook ups with several Fuelled By Ramen members over the last couple of years.
But it was one hundred percent, completely Ryan’s fault because he started the stupid conversation in the first place and- okay, fine. It was Brendon’s fault, too. He should have put it somewhere safer, like up his own ass.
“Please tell me none of this is true,” Ryan whispered, sitting on Brendon’s bunk, waving the faded blue diary above his head with long fingers. He looked up expectantly, eyes begging Brendon for a negative response, an “I have no idea what the hell that is” or a “No, Spencer or Jon must’ve put it there for a joke."
What he hadn’t wanted was the darkness that clouded over Brendon’s face, or the hard line of the younger man’s jaw as he slowly became defensive. “What the fuck, Ry? What the hell are you doing going through my things?”
“It’s true then?"
“It’s none of your goddamn business if it is or not!”
“Brendon, you stole my scarves. I was looking for them. This was jammed under the mattress, okay. I wasn’t…snooping."
Brendon snatched the offending item out from the guitarist’s fingers, hugging it close to his chest with childish affection. It was only in this close proximity that he was finally able to read the expression, or lack thereof, on Ryan’s face - a blank canvas that usually meant his emotions were on override under those calm, calm waters and that was all it took to have Brendon frozen, eyes wide and unsure as Ryan’s refused to meet his.
“You’re angry."
“No,” Ryan said quietly, barely a whisper and just like the harsh delivery only a parent can muster he raised his head and uttered the paternal line. “I’m disappointed."
And just no. He just- it’s unfair.
“Fuck you Ryan,” Brendon explodes, throwing the book at Ryan without actually admitting his arms to do so, fire blazing in his cheeks and bubbling under the surface of his huge eyes.“You don’t get to be disappointed with me. Who I hook up with has absolutely nothing to do with you. Absolutely nothing. So you don’t fucking get to sit there and be all fucking judgemental.”
Pink lips opened to speak, parted and on the edge of delivery, but whatever the message is it never arrives. Ryan sealed his mouth shut and raised himself from Brendon’s bunk wordless and guarded. Again Brendon’s limbs worked of their own accord, gripping the top of Ryan’s arm in strong fingers, and Brendon was pretty sure he was going to have to chop his arms off to stop them wandering again.
“Don’t you fucking dare judge me and then walk away,” Brendon growled, ignoring the sting of his eyes. “Don’t you fucking dare."
“What do you want me to say, Brendon?” Ryan demanded, amber eyes close to Brendon’s but still not close enough. “You’ve slept with half the label. I’m not going to pretend that that sort of behaviour’s acceptable."
“And messing around with someone who isn’t your girlfriend is?”
Shit. Brendon knows that he’s crossed the line. He knows by the way Ryan flinches, his eyes narrowing by a fraction of a millimeter- that blow was way below the belt. His tongue tingles after the release of the forbidden words, telling him with a biting sting that he should not have done that. But it’s just not fair, because Ryan hurt his feelings him too. How was Ryan allowed to comment on his promiscuity, practically brand him a slut and then not expect an equally harsh truth back?
Ryan shook Brendon’s hand off his arm; rather Brendon let him, and left, leaving Brendon feeling guilty and irritated with himself.
With one hand he pulled the scarves out of his pants and folded them neatly, taking much more care then was really needed, fingers running over the dainty silk as it rippled like water waves. When he was finished he put the scarves to rest on the pillow of Ryan’s bunk, smoothing out the wrinkles in the sheets before turning away.
He flipped open his diary and pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote down a few angry sentences before dating the entry and slamming the pages shut. The late afternoon sunshine crept into his bunk and onto the patches of his exposed skin, colouring it golden. He quickly threw his curtain shut and slid his eyes closed, wishing for sleep.
Only when had he ever been able to sleep when he knew Ryan was angry at him?
+-+-+
He woke up. Well no shit.
This time it was late. No light flowed in through the high set windows and no quiet chatter came from the lounge. Brendon guessed that either Ryan had told Jon and Spencer what Brendon had said and all three had decided to stay on Fall Out Boy’s bus for the remainder of the tour, or they were all sleeping peacefully in their bunks. Only, please God could it be the latter because he really, really didn’t want to have Spencer defending his best friend and bitching to Brendon in the morning.
Only there’s a frozen sculpture lying just behind him, barely breathing, gentle exhales ghosting under the skin of his ear. He knows this time it’s not Spencer, because Spencer would never have his arm draped across Brendon’s waist, and Spencer would never hold Brendon so protectively, also Spencer most definitely would not freeze to the spot if Brendon woke up and found him lying next to him.
“…R-ryan?” Brendon whispered, twisting in the arms around him to find two bright amber eyes staring startled at him. Ryan didn’t say anything, didn’t even blink as Brendon slowly slipped into consciousness, and then realised Ryan hadn’t meant for him to wake up and find him. Ryan had been planning on watching Brendon sleep in his arms before creeping back into his own bunk. Brendon wasn’t supposed to know that Ryan was holding him, which raised the question; just how many times had Ryan actually done this without Brendon realising?
Brendon was totally over thinking it.
“Did…did I wake you?”
“No, I’m still asleep right now."
“Shut up, asshole."
“Jackass."
The tension eased away quickly, replaced by easy smiles and shaky breaths as they continued on their whirlwind of petty insults. Brendon fell silent, realising that Ryan’s hand had slipped under the hem of his shirt and had started to thumb a small circle into the skin of Brendon’s hip. And oh God did it burn.
Ryan’s smile was lazy again, something that was rare on the young guitarist’s face since “the break up." His brown hair swept over his face slightly, skimming the top of his eyes. Brendon returned the smile gently, looking down to see the bare expanse of Ryan’s throat close and just so kissable in the darkness, snowy white and perfect. He needed to terminate that line of thought right there.
“I’m sorry I made judgements about your private life,” Ryan whispered, his face suddenly serious. “You’re right, it wasn’t fair. I’m sorry."
Brendon nodded. “And I’m sorry about what I said. I was just angry; I didn’t mean it. Sorry."
Ryan’s smile grew just a little bit, faltering when he realised that he was making patterns along Brendon’s hipbones. He muttered by way of apology before exiting the bunk with quick, jerky movements, the curtain fluttering shut behind him. Brendon thought he heard Jon snort softly from the bunk above, pretty sure that he’d been eavesdropping on the entire conversation.
Only he didn’t care because he wasn’t interested in keeping secrets. His secrets just kept him.