Fic: Just to Get a Glimpse Beyond this Illusion
Just to Get a Glimpse Beyond this Illusion
Disclaimer: Fakefakefake. If you found this by ways of googling yourself or someone you know, please hit the backspace
Rating: PG
Pairing one-sided Brendon/Jon
AN Inspired by the pictures that make me feel like a stalker and a conversation in chat. Beta-ed by stephanometra. Title from Kansas.
Brendon should love Vegas shows.
He does, in a lot to ways. They're like Chicago shows, with home-made mom cookies in the green room that are soft and melty in his mouth. He gets awesome hugs from Mrs. Smith and both of Spencer's little sisters, and Mr. Smith claps his shoulder. It's like that in Chicago, too, only Jon's parents want to be called Cathy and Mike.
In Vegas he gets his mom's maple cookies that are still sort of warm from the oven because she knows that's how he likes them, ones that aren't two or three days old and taste like the inside of Tupperware, and then there are Spencer's mom's peanut butter, and maybe it's going to make him sick to shove two and three of them into his mouth at the same time, but that's okay.
He does the meet and greet before he can go back to plying himself with baked goods with his sisters and brothers hanging around backstage. It's sort of cute, how Jon tries to remember to only drink juice in front of them, despite the fact that there are Red Bull cans laying around and Spencer and Ryan are both making a production out of pouring beer into plastic cups.
His sisters both? have cameras, and they take pictures of the inside of the bus. Shane's already been through it, taking down the sign on their microwave and making sure that no one leaves a bong hanging out in the back lounge.
"Which bunk is yours?" Kyla asks. She pulls back the curtain to Ryan's bunk and peeks inside.
He steps in front of it as quickly as he can, and his smile feels a little forced, just a little too much like the meet and greet. "It's over here."
It's not; the bunk he shows them is actually Eric's, because it's the cleanest bunk on the bus and Eric's pretty good at keeping it cleared out of anything that isn't necessary for sleeping.
"Looks cramped," Kara says, but there isn't any disapproval in her tone, and he smiles at her as wide as he can.
He knows that his parents know he drinks caffeine and alcohol, and he's pretty sure that at least Mason knows that his band is at least partially stoned most of the day. He just don't know how to bring it up, beyond laughing weakly along with Kara when she notices that there will be no smoking tobacco backstage.
When his mom pulls out her Kodak camera, one of the ones that makes Jon roll his eyes a little because it sits on a printer dock. Brendon smiles for the picture as best he can. He has to be on stage in about ten minutes, and he doesn't really have time to do the cameras, his mom's, Kyla's, and and Kara's, especially not once his mom realizes that they're not in age order and demands another round.
Brendon can almost hear Ryan rolling his eyes, from across the room and halfway wedged under Spencer. "It's okay, Mom," Brendon says, and his smile freezes on a little more. "It'll be okay. We can do another lineup after the show's over." He knows that they can't, because he needs to go to the after-parties, even though Ryan's begging off because Keltie's in town and Spencer is ditching them to do midnight waffles with his family and Jon isn't much for after-parties to begin with.
His mom frowns before passing her camera over to Kara, so she can have a picture of Brendon with her and his dad. And then there's hugging and three kisses on his cheek. His dad and brothers all punch his shoulder before they all troop out to the VIP area. He walks with them to the stage door, stopping to high-five Chris and get a hug from Greta.
Brendon pretends that he doesn't notice the way Mason and Matt both grin at him when Greta's hand strays on his hip before she launches herself back to her band.
His mom kisses him again before she goes out, giving him one of the steel-armed hugs that always make him feel like he's five and he could just hold onto her and stay forever. He hugs her back, and she whispers that she's proud of him, of what he's doing. She says it every time she sees him live, and she has since she hugged him close and gave him the keys to the old purple van. It still makes his eyes sting.
Brendon ushers them out, and then he closes the door. Zach checks to make sure it's locked and says, "Five minutes." Phantom Planet is already lining up on the side of the stage.
He nods and goes back to the dressing room. He has forty-five minutes or so before he needs to worry about getting his battery pack and ear-piece, and right now he sort of wants to drag Jon or Ryan to the bathroom and make them share, fuck his voice. He takes another cookie off the table and remembers his mother's hug. The cookie doesn't taste as good; it's cool now.
Brendon settles for pouring a bottle of Corona into a plastic cup and sitting on one of the old couches.
Ryan and Spencer aren't talking to him; they never do when his family comes backstage. It's one of the things that make it really hard to love Vegas shows like he should, because he's home, where his family is supporting him. It doesn't matter to Ryan or Spencer, though. They remember helping Brendon find an apartment, and Spencer was the one who helped him pack his bedroom into Spencer's mom's old Volvo. Ryan was there the only time he broke down about it, when he couldn't figure out how to make dippy eggs and his toast burned. He doesn't think there are enough supportive hugs and dopey grins in the world to make them forget about it.
Brendon shakes his head and wishes they could, at least for his siblings who weren't home when it happened. He likes having them around, even if he knows that Mason is going to call him in the morning and ask about Greta. Brendon won't even mind because it means he'll get a chance to talk to Mason's son, and he never gets tired of being called "Uncle B," because his name was sort of hard to say before his nephew could make the "r" sound. "Uncle B" stuck.
He balances on the arm of the couch and smiles at Shane when he walks past with the video camera. The opening drum rolls of Phantom Planet's set start, so Shane's needed out there, and Brendon can't hang around him. His skin feels tight and dry, and he wants to talk it out until it's gone. Shane wouldn't roll his eyes.
Brendon finishes his beer and sets the cup on the table. If he goes for another, he knows that Ryan will do a huffing sigh. Ryan's probably high right now, but he's still a pissy bitch about anything that could fuck up Brendon's voice or the stage show. He's supposed to be on, and he can't be drunk because his mom is out there and she's proud of him.
She always says it in his ear and never to his face.
"You okay, dude?" Jon asks. He pushes a half-empty cup into Brendon's hand and stretches out on the couch beside him. "You look wound up."
"Thinking about the show," he says, like they haven't done this script a hundred times and he doesn't know these songs (except when he forgets the words, and what if he does that tonight, with everyone watching). His stomach rolls in a way that probably means stage fright, but he doesn't get stage fright. He's never fucking had it, and he's not going to start now.
"Yeah?" Jon leans back. He's in an undershirt and his stage pants. Jon won't put on the button-up until Motion City Soundtrack goes out.
Brendon watches Ryan walk out of the green room without so much as waving at him and Jon. He's going to attempt the guitar for "Do the Panic" again tonight, and Brendon can't bring himself to watch it, not tonight. "Yeah. They all came."
Jon nods, and he doesn't roll his eyes or make the little quirky frown that Spencer's mom makes when Brendon talks about his family showing up. Brendon seriously, seriously loves Jon Walker. It should make him feel better, but it doesn't. It makes the pitching his stomach worse, like he's trapped on a leaking boat and every time Jon moves close, it's one more wave that's ready to push him under where he'll be cold and alone again.
"It's great, that they all came, too," Brendon says and finishes the beer Jon gave him. He rolls off the arm of the couch and tucks close to Jon. He doesn't care that it makes his stomach worse.
"Yeah," Jon says. He puts one arm over Brendon's shoulders, fingers hanging on his upper arm and tapping along to the beat of Phantom Planet like he always does.
Brendon tries not to think about it, or about how Jon's shampoo sort of smells like orange creamsicles, even if Jon smells like fresh cigarettes and maybe a little pot underneath that. "Do you think we could not make the joke about me being single tonight?" he asks, and his voice sounds normal, like this is nothing.
Jon's fingers stop. "Your mom heard them on your birthday."
He forces a smile, because the show has escalated since then, with pitching jokes and more emphasis put on the dating girls and guys. He tries not to think of Mason's smile when he looked at Greta, and it's hard. Brendon pulls back from Jon a little, so he doesn't smell him so much.
"Yeah." His mom is the one that got the call when he got caught smoking pot. He remembers the way she smiled at him when he came home, that sad way that wasn't disappointment--not quite--but maybe something more like he was hurting her by being him. He didn't want to hurt her then, and he doesn't want to hurt her now. He wants more awkward pictures on shitty Kodak cameras.
"So we'll just play it vanilla tonight," Jon says, and he smiles. He pulls Brendon close again, fast enough that Brendon ends up mostly sprawled on Jon's chest.
"Vanilla sounds about the right speed." Brendon closes his eyes. Jon's theirs now, but Jon was still in Chicago when he came home after midnight and his mom turned those hurt eyes on him, when she squeezed his hand and put a progress report for math class on the table in front of him and said Sweetheart, we know that band is important to you, but if you're going to live under our roof, you need to make school more important.
"Spencer and Ryan won't like it." He closes his eyes and listens to Jon breathe. Jon's chest is warm under his cheek.
"No," Jon says, slowly. "But they can suck it up and deal if you want to do that. Family's family." He doesn't sound happy about it, but Jon never pushes about what Brendon wants to change for his family. And maybe that's one of the things that makes Brendon feel a little more sunk and lost,] because he wants to ask his mother advice about how he's supposed to handle this, like when Kyla had an epic crush on her lab partner in 10th grade and his mom just told her to act like she always would but maybe let their hands brush.
Brendon nods, rubbing his forehead on Jon's shirt. "I don't want to piss them off. I like when they come." It's not a lie. He likes maple cookies and hugging and awkward pictures. It's things like saying Eric's bunk is his or taking down their dorky little signs that make him hesitate before saying, sure, they can all come.
"They love you, Brendon," Jon says, voice quiet. He talks near Brendon's ear, and Brendon pulls his head up. He doesn't want things whispered at him.
"I know they do. I know, okay?" He's three seconds from yelling, spine straight, and he's going to yell at Jon. He pulls back and pushes a hand through his hair. "I need to be ready for The Hush Sound."
Jon grabs his hand, eyes serious and dark. They rarely are, outside of when they're talking about songs and laying down tracks, and it makes Brendon stop. "I know you know." He squeezes Brendon's hand again before he stands up. "Do the Panic" is starting, and Ryan's messing up the chords. Brendon tries not to wince.
"I should go and get my ear piece," Brendon says. He should take his hand out of Jon's. He looks over to where Spencer and Ryan were sitting before, but Spencer's gone. He's probably out back roller-blading with Crystal and Jackie.
He looks at Jon, pulling forward and wrapping his arms around him. He wants to tell Jon that he gets it, that he doesn't have to worry about what his family thinks because they're going to know eventually, because they would know already if they actually thought about if love is not enough, and he's not sure if his mom will whisper how proud she is to his ear so he can't see her face. She might start saying it on the telephone or writing it in notes.
Jon hugs him back and doesn't whisper anything.
Brendon is the one that pulled back. He kisses Jon's cheek, lips brushing against his beard. It stings and makes the back of his neck hot. "See you in a bit."
"Kick some ass." Jon reaches up and tousles Brendon's hair. He doesn't step back.
"Yeah," Brendon says, turning away from Jon and pressing one hand to his stomach as he ducks out to the backstage. He wants to turn back and say fuck it, to making the show vanilla and easing off on the jokes about Brendon having a thing for guys in tight jeans. His stomach tells him that he's not ready, that he wants to throw up his one-and-a-half beers, the feel of Jon's beard still scratched onto his mouth.
It'll kill his voice, though, and he still sort of wants a hug from his mom at the end of the show when she whispers how good he was.
Disclaimer: Fakefakefake. If you found this by ways of googling yourself or someone you know, please hit the backspace
Rating: PG
Pairing one-sided Brendon/Jon
AN Inspired by the pictures that make me feel like a stalker and a conversation in chat. Beta-ed by stephanometra. Title from Kansas.
Brendon should love Vegas shows.
He does, in a lot to ways. They're like Chicago shows, with home-made mom cookies in the green room that are soft and melty in his mouth. He gets awesome hugs from Mrs. Smith and both of Spencer's little sisters, and Mr. Smith claps his shoulder. It's like that in Chicago, too, only Jon's parents want to be called Cathy and Mike.
In Vegas he gets his mom's maple cookies that are still sort of warm from the oven because she knows that's how he likes them, ones that aren't two or three days old and taste like the inside of Tupperware, and then there are Spencer's mom's peanut butter, and maybe it's going to make him sick to shove two and three of them into his mouth at the same time, but that's okay.
He does the meet and greet before he can go back to plying himself with baked goods with his sisters and brothers hanging around backstage. It's sort of cute, how Jon tries to remember to only drink juice in front of them, despite the fact that there are Red Bull cans laying around and Spencer and Ryan are both making a production out of pouring beer into plastic cups.
His sisters both? have cameras, and they take pictures of the inside of the bus. Shane's already been through it, taking down the sign on their microwave and making sure that no one leaves a bong hanging out in the back lounge.
"Which bunk is yours?" Kyla asks. She pulls back the curtain to Ryan's bunk and peeks inside.
He steps in front of it as quickly as he can, and his smile feels a little forced, just a little too much like the meet and greet. "It's over here."
It's not; the bunk he shows them is actually Eric's, because it's the cleanest bunk on the bus and Eric's pretty good at keeping it cleared out of anything that isn't necessary for sleeping.
"Looks cramped," Kara says, but there isn't any disapproval in her tone, and he smiles at her as wide as he can.
He knows that his parents know he drinks caffeine and alcohol, and he's pretty sure that at least Mason knows that his band is at least partially stoned most of the day. He just don't know how to bring it up, beyond laughing weakly along with Kara when she notices that there will be no smoking tobacco backstage.
When his mom pulls out her Kodak camera, one of the ones that makes Jon roll his eyes a little because it sits on a printer dock. Brendon smiles for the picture as best he can. He has to be on stage in about ten minutes, and he doesn't really have time to do the cameras, his mom's, Kyla's, and and Kara's, especially not once his mom realizes that they're not in age order and demands another round.
Brendon can almost hear Ryan rolling his eyes, from across the room and halfway wedged under Spencer. "It's okay, Mom," Brendon says, and his smile freezes on a little more. "It'll be okay. We can do another lineup after the show's over." He knows that they can't, because he needs to go to the after-parties, even though Ryan's begging off because Keltie's in town and Spencer is ditching them to do midnight waffles with his family and Jon isn't much for after-parties to begin with.
His mom frowns before passing her camera over to Kara, so she can have a picture of Brendon with her and his dad. And then there's hugging and three kisses on his cheek. His dad and brothers all punch his shoulder before they all troop out to the VIP area. He walks with them to the stage door, stopping to high-five Chris and get a hug from Greta.
Brendon pretends that he doesn't notice the way Mason and Matt both grin at him when Greta's hand strays on his hip before she launches herself back to her band.
His mom kisses him again before she goes out, giving him one of the steel-armed hugs that always make him feel like he's five and he could just hold onto her and stay forever. He hugs her back, and she whispers that she's proud of him, of what he's doing. She says it every time she sees him live, and she has since she hugged him close and gave him the keys to the old purple van. It still makes his eyes sting.
Brendon ushers them out, and then he closes the door. Zach checks to make sure it's locked and says, "Five minutes." Phantom Planet is already lining up on the side of the stage.
He nods and goes back to the dressing room. He has forty-five minutes or so before he needs to worry about getting his battery pack and ear-piece, and right now he sort of wants to drag Jon or Ryan to the bathroom and make them share, fuck his voice. He takes another cookie off the table and remembers his mother's hug. The cookie doesn't taste as good; it's cool now.
Brendon settles for pouring a bottle of Corona into a plastic cup and sitting on one of the old couches.
Ryan and Spencer aren't talking to him; they never do when his family comes backstage. It's one of the things that make it really hard to love Vegas shows like he should, because he's home, where his family is supporting him. It doesn't matter to Ryan or Spencer, though. They remember helping Brendon find an apartment, and Spencer was the one who helped him pack his bedroom into Spencer's mom's old Volvo. Ryan was there the only time he broke down about it, when he couldn't figure out how to make dippy eggs and his toast burned. He doesn't think there are enough supportive hugs and dopey grins in the world to make them forget about it.
Brendon shakes his head and wishes they could, at least for his siblings who weren't home when it happened. He likes having them around, even if he knows that Mason is going to call him in the morning and ask about Greta. Brendon won't even mind because it means he'll get a chance to talk to Mason's son, and he never gets tired of being called "Uncle B," because his name was sort of hard to say before his nephew could make the "r" sound. "Uncle B" stuck.
He balances on the arm of the couch and smiles at Shane when he walks past with the video camera. The opening drum rolls of Phantom Planet's set start, so Shane's needed out there, and Brendon can't hang around him. His skin feels tight and dry, and he wants to talk it out until it's gone. Shane wouldn't roll his eyes.
Brendon finishes his beer and sets the cup on the table. If he goes for another, he knows that Ryan will do a huffing sigh. Ryan's probably high right now, but he's still a pissy bitch about anything that could fuck up Brendon's voice or the stage show. He's supposed to be on, and he can't be drunk because his mom is out there and she's proud of him.
She always says it in his ear and never to his face.
"You okay, dude?" Jon asks. He pushes a half-empty cup into Brendon's hand and stretches out on the couch beside him. "You look wound up."
"Thinking about the show," he says, like they haven't done this script a hundred times and he doesn't know these songs (except when he forgets the words, and what if he does that tonight, with everyone watching). His stomach rolls in a way that probably means stage fright, but he doesn't get stage fright. He's never fucking had it, and he's not going to start now.
"Yeah?" Jon leans back. He's in an undershirt and his stage pants. Jon won't put on the button-up until Motion City Soundtrack goes out.
Brendon watches Ryan walk out of the green room without so much as waving at him and Jon. He's going to attempt the guitar for "Do the Panic" again tonight, and Brendon can't bring himself to watch it, not tonight. "Yeah. They all came."
Jon nods, and he doesn't roll his eyes or make the little quirky frown that Spencer's mom makes when Brendon talks about his family showing up. Brendon seriously, seriously loves Jon Walker. It should make him feel better, but it doesn't. It makes the pitching his stomach worse, like he's trapped on a leaking boat and every time Jon moves close, it's one more wave that's ready to push him under where he'll be cold and alone again.
"It's great, that they all came, too," Brendon says and finishes the beer Jon gave him. He rolls off the arm of the couch and tucks close to Jon. He doesn't care that it makes his stomach worse.
"Yeah," Jon says. He puts one arm over Brendon's shoulders, fingers hanging on his upper arm and tapping along to the beat of Phantom Planet like he always does.
Brendon tries not to think about it, or about how Jon's shampoo sort of smells like orange creamsicles, even if Jon smells like fresh cigarettes and maybe a little pot underneath that. "Do you think we could not make the joke about me being single tonight?" he asks, and his voice sounds normal, like this is nothing.
Jon's fingers stop. "Your mom heard them on your birthday."
He forces a smile, because the show has escalated since then, with pitching jokes and more emphasis put on the dating girls and guys. He tries not to think of Mason's smile when he looked at Greta, and it's hard. Brendon pulls back from Jon a little, so he doesn't smell him so much.
"Yeah." His mom is the one that got the call when he got caught smoking pot. He remembers the way she smiled at him when he came home, that sad way that wasn't disappointment--not quite--but maybe something more like he was hurting her by being him. He didn't want to hurt her then, and he doesn't want to hurt her now. He wants more awkward pictures on shitty Kodak cameras.
"So we'll just play it vanilla tonight," Jon says, and he smiles. He pulls Brendon close again, fast enough that Brendon ends up mostly sprawled on Jon's chest.
"Vanilla sounds about the right speed." Brendon closes his eyes. Jon's theirs now, but Jon was still in Chicago when he came home after midnight and his mom turned those hurt eyes on him, when she squeezed his hand and put a progress report for math class on the table in front of him and said Sweetheart, we know that band is important to you, but if you're going to live under our roof, you need to make school more important.
"Spencer and Ryan won't like it." He closes his eyes and listens to Jon breathe. Jon's chest is warm under his cheek.
"No," Jon says, slowly. "But they can suck it up and deal if you want to do that. Family's family." He doesn't sound happy about it, but Jon never pushes about what Brendon wants to change for his family. And maybe that's one of the things that makes Brendon feel a little more sunk and lost,] because he wants to ask his mother advice about how he's supposed to handle this, like when Kyla had an epic crush on her lab partner in 10th grade and his mom just told her to act like she always would but maybe let their hands brush.
Brendon nods, rubbing his forehead on Jon's shirt. "I don't want to piss them off. I like when they come." It's not a lie. He likes maple cookies and hugging and awkward pictures. It's things like saying Eric's bunk is his or taking down their dorky little signs that make him hesitate before saying, sure, they can all come.
"They love you, Brendon," Jon says, voice quiet. He talks near Brendon's ear, and Brendon pulls his head up. He doesn't want things whispered at him.
"I know they do. I know, okay?" He's three seconds from yelling, spine straight, and he's going to yell at Jon. He pulls back and pushes a hand through his hair. "I need to be ready for The Hush Sound."
Jon grabs his hand, eyes serious and dark. They rarely are, outside of when they're talking about songs and laying down tracks, and it makes Brendon stop. "I know you know." He squeezes Brendon's hand again before he stands up. "Do the Panic" is starting, and Ryan's messing up the chords. Brendon tries not to wince.
"I should go and get my ear piece," Brendon says. He should take his hand out of Jon's. He looks over to where Spencer and Ryan were sitting before, but Spencer's gone. He's probably out back roller-blading with Crystal and Jackie.
He looks at Jon, pulling forward and wrapping his arms around him. He wants to tell Jon that he gets it, that he doesn't have to worry about what his family thinks because they're going to know eventually, because they would know already if they actually thought about if love is not enough, and he's not sure if his mom will whisper how proud she is to his ear so he can't see her face. She might start saying it on the telephone or writing it in notes.
Jon hugs him back and doesn't whisper anything.
Brendon is the one that pulled back. He kisses Jon's cheek, lips brushing against his beard. It stings and makes the back of his neck hot. "See you in a bit."
"Kick some ass." Jon reaches up and tousles Brendon's hair. He doesn't step back.
"Yeah," Brendon says, turning away from Jon and pressing one hand to his stomach as he ducks out to the backstage. He wants to turn back and say fuck it, to making the show vanilla and easing off on the jokes about Brendon having a thing for guys in tight jeans. His stomach tells him that he's not ready, that he wants to throw up his one-and-a-half beers, the feel of Jon's beard still scratched onto his mouth.
It'll kill his voice, though, and he still sort of wants a hug from his mom at the end of the show when she whispers how good he was.