Each Touch Ch. 1
Title: Each touch belongs to each new sound (1/4)
Authors: EL and Toby
Fandoms: AAR, FOB, Panic
Pairings: Nick/Tyson, Pete/Ryan, Mike/Ryan
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~32,000 total (god help us)
Summary: Ryan's good at fucking: it's the rest of it that sometimes confuses him. (mult. POVs)
Disclaimer: Never happened.
A/N: This is posted here, but Toby and I wrote this over IM TOGETHER for MONTHS AND MONTHS. It ate our brains and made us squealing, giggly girls. More than half the credit for this fic should go to Toby-- those of you that know her? Drop her an email and say nice job. That being said, you might be thinking WTF?! Ryan Ross living on the AAR tourbus during the BC&UD tour?? Are you on CRACK? To which the answer is YES, but it is the very best kind. I hope you all will come along because I promise this will be a very nice ride.
A few months ago, Toby and I had a conversation about Ryan Ross on tour with FOB during BC&UD:
Toby: Nick Wheeler would be appalled at their treatment of Ryan.
Toby: That is NOT the way to treat a pretty eager boy
EL: yes!
Toby: Tyson and Nick would adopt him.
Toby: He rides with them during bcud.
EL: was panic on bcud?
Toby: No, but they weren't doing anything!
Toby: Pete called him originally
Toby: And Nick watches, horrified. They make it a mission.
EL: Ryan is like an extended booty call. Pete sometimes actually forgets he's waiting on the bus and goes off with Dirty after a show
Toby: That's exactly what it is. So Nick starts inviting him over- no one in Pete's band can do anything.
Toby: He's skittish about the drunk thing, but Nick tries to put him at ease.
EL: They never make him feel pressured to drink, and none of the AAR boys ever get so drunk they throw up, or pass out
EL: its just... amusing.
Toby: Pete had whispered to Ryan that Nick and Tyson were fucking, but Ryan is totally shocked- they're a /couple/.
And then it became this:
Pete and Ryan are fucking but that doesn't make them... anything really.
Nick wakes Ty up with coffee in the morning, and they share a bunk and giggle and Chris and Mike just roll with it, like it's normal. They have an anniversary. Their whole crew knows, but that's because they're all friends - the band keeps the same techs every tour. And Ryan feels at first like maybe he shouldn't know, like Pete shouldn't have told him as he tugged Ryan into his bunk.
He feels almost embarrassed by it, like it’s not something rockstars should DO. The boys he knows-- Pete, Brendon, William, even ANDY-- go through people on tour like they're water. Nick and Ty are all forever and domestic. Ryan has no idea how to act around them.
It's not as though Ryan's really been exposed to this sort of relationship before. He used to download “Queer as Folk” episodes off bitorrent in high school, but these are two people that he really likes, two guys, making a go of it. And they're nice to each other, and they play music and cuddle.
Ryan knows that the girls who throw themselves at Ty aren't a problem. (He even meets Kim once, on the bus in LA, laughing with Nick and Ty over a can of Redbull and watching Arrested Development. She's pretty cool.) He's amazed when Nick shrugs off the news that a pair of twinky boys have Tyson cornered at the afterparty, all eyeliner and lipgloss and hips. Nick just shakes his head and says "not really his type" with a grin.
Nick, meanwhile, thinks it's endearing the way Ryan is puzzling through his and Tyson's relationship. He sees the way he watches them, as if he's trying to understand but isn't quite there yet. Nick's pretty sure he's not sleeping with Pete as often anymore.
It's weird. Ryan doesn't know who to talk to about them. Like, Brendon and Pete are clearly no use, and Spencer... Ryan talking to Spencer about boys who are in love just. He can't. Patrick is pretty cool about it, but Patrick is more confused about why Ryan's confused. "I mean, they're in love," Patrick says frowning. "What's not to get?"
Ryan really worries Patrick. He almost feels like it's his fault. For some weird Patrick-esque reason, he thinks it's his job to mop up Pete's messes. He’s been doing it for years. And he's okay about letting most stuff go-- the sycophants are sycophants and get what they deserve-- but Ryan was clearly a little fucked up pre-Pete and Pete didn't make matters any better.
Patrick and Nick are sort of tacitly working together on Project Ryan. Patrick keeps Pete from starting trouble over Ryan hanging out in AAR's bus. Pete gets whiny about how Ry was supposed to be keeping him company, and Patrick reminds him that he was out until 4am with Andy and Dirty at a club Ryan isn't old enough to get into. Pete is pouty.
Meanwhile, Nick and Tyson swaddle Ryan up in between them and show him their favorite movies. Nick makes them watch the Bon Jovi tour DVD. Ryan thinks Jon is hot. He mumbles it somewhere near the end of the first hour and Tyson whoops. "He's totally yours!" Tyson grins at Nick. Ryan blushes. "Don't tell my boyfriend, but I would so bang Jon Bon Jovi," he stage whispers at Ryan and Nick hits him with a pillow. It's... really fun.
Ryan falls asleep after they switch to "Chinatown" - Nick has a thing for Faye Dunaway, Tyson tells him. He's squashed in between them, which should be awkward, but they're both warm and don't seem to mind. Ryan's so slight, and Tyson actually carries him to the extra bunk ("Tyson's bunk") and rolls him inside. Ryan grumbles and falls back asleep almost instantly. Nick and Ty grin at each other. "It's a boy!" Tyson says and Nick just shakes his head.
"You're the one getting up for midnight feedings, dude."
Ryan wakes up in a strange bed the next morning. He thrashes for a moment, panic rising in his throat, but then he hears Mike's voice, and smiles. "The perfect waffle batter consistency has to retain some of its gumminess."
Ryan laughs, and stretches.
"You're going to break the iron, moron," Chris counters.
"Fuck you!" Mike retorts, but Ryan can hear the always-present smile in his voice. When Ryan slides out of bed, Nick and Ty are still asleep across from him and he tiptoes to the front of the bus.
"Hey kid," Chris smiles at him around the neck of a beer bottle. Ryan checks the clock-- it's 12:15, so he lets it slide.
"Hi," he says, rubbing his eyes. He takes a seat against the corner of the bus couch, across from the table. "He's right, you know. It's gotta be really thick to work right."
"Yeah?" Chris crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows. "You learned this when? Cause it looks like you haven't eaten a waffle in, like, years, you skinny bastard." Mike cuffs him lightly in the side of the head and they mock scuffle in the kitchenette for a minute. Ryan just grins at them, irrationally happy.
They're a little like Brendon and Spencer -- easy with each other, comfortable. "You want blueberries?" Mike asks, and Chris groans.
"You'll gunk up the iron, you can't do that."
"Yes, please,” Ryan grins.
"Fine, fucker, but you're buying us a new one when that one ends up gross beyond repair." Chris just flops on the couch next to Ryan and shakes his head as Mike drops a handful of blueberries into the batter.
Ryan closes his eyes and breaths deeply as Mike closes the lid of the iron and the smell of waffles fills the bus. "Where did you guys even get blueberries anyway?" He didn't think of tour buses in general or AAR specifically as fresh fruit locales.
"The wonder of Shabba," Mike laughs, stirring the batter a few more times. "He's magical." Ryan laughs, too -- he's met Shabba a couple of times on the bus, a round guy with a beard and a lisp. It's nice, the way they're all some sort of family. It's almost like the bus is their home, like they're a band of traveling musicians or something.
"Do I smell the heavenly aroma of waffles?" Tyson's voice booms out from the back lounge. He strides in, wearing only his boxers. His hair sticks out at unnatural angles, and there's a necklace of bite marks over his neck and collar.
"Dude, seriously," Chris groans, but he's laughing.
"Shirtless people named Gaylor cannot throw stones!" Tyson wisely notes with a pointed finger as he wanders over to Mike and hooks his chin over his shoulder. "I get the first one, right? Because I'm the most special boy?" He makes a ridiculous doe-eyed face and Mike smears a line of waffle batter down his cheek.
"The first one's for Ryan."
"I have been replaced! Supplanted, by my own brothers." Tyson turns, points his finger at Ryan. "You're trouble. "
Ryan flushes, shakes his head. "I just got up first."
"We seriously try not to let Ty get the first waffle ever," Chris leans close with a stage whisper and yeah, Ryan is suddenly quite aware that he's not wearing a shirt. (It's so normal that sometimes he forgets.) "He basically makes sex noises while he eats it and wants another one immediately. Not a pretty sight." Ryan flushes a little when Chris leans in -- it's reflex, these days, to expect something when a hot guy leans close to him. But the band treats him as a kid brother, or maybe a high schooler they're showing around their fraternity for the weekend.
"What's that I hear about sex noises?" Nick wanders in wearing jeans and nothing else. He flops on the couch next to Chris and puts his feet in Chris's lap, stealing a sip of beer. Nick ruffles Ryan's hair, and Ryan tilts into the touch, smiling contentedly. "You sleep okay?"
"Yeah," he says, a little embarrassed. "Sorry I passed out on you. I had a long day."
"Mmmm." Tyson nods. "Does day rhyme with Wentz, huh, huh?" He makes lewd hand motions and Ryan's smile falters a little.
"Leave the kid the fuck alone," Mike elbows him in the ribs as he opens the waffle maker and tugs the first one out with a fork. "You better come make it how you like it before the bottomless pit gets his hands on it," he tells Ryan.
Ryan gets up, squeezing past Tyson and Mike -- there's barely enough room in the kitchenette for one person and there are elbows everywhere. Mike hands Ryan the syrup without him even needing to ask for it, and the butter's sitting next to the batter pitcher. Tyson amuses himself by flicking Chris's gauge. There isn't any preamble, Chris is fine until flick number seven and then Tyson is on the floor, Chris straddling his waist and pinning his wrists to the floor. "You know I hate it when you do that, fucker," he grins as Tyson laughs and struggles underneath him.
"Took you long enough to do something," Ty gasps as Chris smacks him once in the chest and rolls off.
"He had to finish his beer," Nick says nonchalantly from the couch.
Mike laughs and looks at Ryan. "You got everything? I think we have whipped cream in the fridge."
"Uhh," Nick starts.
"Nope!" Tyson grins as he sits up. Chris leans against the couch, and moans. Ryan pauses, and then - oh, he gets it, blushing and looking down so his hair hides his eyes.
Mike cracks up, looping an arm around Ryan's shoulder. "Welcome to the Nick and Ty show."
Tyson throws up the horns from his spot on the floor.
Ryan is mostly through his waffle, sitting at the table and watching Mike make one after another while the boys poke at each other around him. When Dave and John climb onto the bus an hour later, Ryan's been roped into a game of Halo with Chris and Tyson. "We're rolling out in fifteen boys," Dave calls out and Ryan pauses the game.
"Um, I guess I should," he starts and Ty pouts.
"We just started, man!"
"I don't want to be in the way," he says, eyes darting to Chris, and to Mike and Dave and John.
"’s cool," Mike smiles and Ryan smiles back, slowly.
"Just send a note to Prince Wentzness to make sure he knows we've gone and kidnapped you, yeah?" Tyson grins. "Tell him I'm holding you for ransom."
Ryan slides his sidekick out of his hip pocket, flipping up the display screen. "What are your terms?"
Tyson grabs Ryan, pulling him close and wrestling him into his lap. "You're such a scrawny thing -- tell him he can have you back for three PS2 controllers and a kiss from Patrick."
"Hey!" Ryan pinches Tyson's arm, mildly offended.
"Fine, ow! Four controllers, a kiss from Patrick and Season One of 24."
"Better," Ryan grumbles, but he can't quite hide his grin as he types a quick note to Pete.
Nick wanders in from the shower a few minutes later as they're starting up the bus. "Hey, you're staying?" he says, genuinely happy.
Ryan flushes a little. "Yeah, I guess."
"Cool. Hey, when you're done, you wanna take a listen to some stuff I've been working on?"
"Yeah, sure," Ryan stammers. Next to Nick Wheeler he's a fucking plebe on the guitar, and the idea of playing with him makes Ryan's fingers itch a little.
"Look at that," Tyson grins, "he's making new friends!" He nuzzles Ryan's neck, cooing, and Ryan squirms, laughing as Tyson's hands tickle his sides -- he's being tickled, for the first time in maybe months, and he can hardly breathe for laughing. Tyson's bigger than him, but Ryan's got speed on his side, and he curls up into a ball, kicking out to fight back.
The game ends abruptly when one of Ryan's flailing feet connects with a cord on the playstation, and the screen goes dark. "Fuckers!" Chris says, throwing a pillow.
Tyson stops tickling and just collapses full body onto Ryan, both of them breathing heavily. Nick shakes his head. "Come find me when he unpins you," he laughs and heads back into the lounge. Chris kicks at them as his phone rings and heads to hide in his bunk while he chats quietly.
Ryan thinks he should go find Nick, but Tyson just shifts over a fraction, arm warm around Ryan's waist, as they lay tangled up on the couch. He grabs the remote. "Movie?" he asks, and Ryan just blinks. Tyson has the goofiest face, Ryan realizes, up close. From a normal distance, he's all eyes and jaw and cheekbones, but at six inches away, Ryan can see the way his facial muscles twist into strange expressions, as if Tyson's spent years trying to make himself look less pretty. Tyson waggles his eyebrows, and whispers, "If I don't let go, Nick will make us popcorn."
"Okay," Ryan whispers back, almost conspiratorially, and Tyson grins widely. He shifts and settles for a second more and flips the television on. Mike had been watching House and the DVD was still in.
Ty just presses play. "Can only watch this fucking show on DVD. I need to rewind too much. Fucking doctors and their fancy talk," he drawls in an exaggerated accent.
Ryan just tucks his arm under his head and nods. "Yeah, but they're hot."
"Indeed," Ty agrees. Tyson's warm next to him and it’s... comfortable. Ryan hasn't been this close to someone where it hasn't been sexual in a long time. Not since Spencer stopped sleeping in with him when he slept over.
They're up to the first false diagnosis -- Tyson and Ryan watch in comfortable silence as Foreman slides a needle into a girl's chest, a bared rectangle of her ribs and skin showing under the blue tarp. Tyson's face is a mask of horrified fascination; he makes a little grimacing noise as the 3-D effects show just what the needle's supposed to do. "Sure you want to eat and watch at the same time?" Ryan teases, and Tyson pokes him.
"Hush. Watch Chase."
"Duh," Ryan rolls his eyes and focuses on Chase's ass (and maybe a little of House's too). Nick wanders in a few minutes later, Def Leopard t-shirt riding a little high on his stomach. When Nick walks past the screen, Ryan's eyes momentarily dart to Nick's ass too, and he looks up to see Tyson grinning at him.
"Yeah, I know, right?"
"No, that’s not,” Ryan starts, mildly horrified, but Tyson cuts him off.
"Don't you dare insult my boyfriend’s ass. That is a fine ass my friend."
"Damn right it is," Ryan hears Nick call out, his head buried in the fridge.
Tyson makes a loud lip-smacking noise, adding, "Bring the boys some hydration, won't you, darlin?"
Ryan still can't look Nick in the eye when he comes back with a Rolling Rock and a Jones' soda. Nick touches his shoulder, handing it to him. Tyson grabs for his beer, wrapping his hand around Nick's wrist and pulling him down for a kiss. Ryan turns away, or tries to, but Nick they are basically kissing right over his head and averting his eyes means focusing either on Ty's chin or Nick's... groin. He settles for closing them tight. "I think we're grossing out the kid," Nick grins above him and Tyson plants a smacking kiss to Ryan's temple. "Come on, shift over," he says and they all move around until Tyson is squashed in the middle of them on the couch, one arm still hooked around Ry's shoulder.
"I was promised popcorn," Ryan says and pouts a little.
Nick looks to Tyson, who puts his hands up, palms up. "I have no idea what he's talking about," he murmurs. His beer wobbles treacherously on his thigh.
"Oh, no?" Nick says, and Tyson grins.
"My hand to God." They're staring at one another, matching smiles and eyes flickering in a language he can't even pretend to speak. Ryan sets his soda down, pulling his legs out from under himself as he stands. "It's in the top left cabinet," Ty calls out. "We like it extra salty, sweetness."
Ryan flips him off and opens the cabinet, rifling through a surprisingly neat and organized pile of junk food. He pauses. "Pork rinds? Oh my GOD," he wrinkles his nose.
"It's got to be better than the soy shit Hurley keeps on the other bus," Nick points out. (Nick has a good point.)
He finds the microwave popcorn in the back and sticks one in the machine, leaning on the counter. Nick and Tyson are folded quietly into each other on the couch, Nick's head tipped to Ty's shoulder as they watch the show. Ryan's stomach hurts a little in a way he can't quite get a grip on and he turns away.
The microwave buzzes and Ryan shakes out the bag. They actually have bowls and decent plates on their bus, too -- "Mrs. Wheeler," Chris explained to him -- so Ryan takes out one of the bigger ones and dumps the popcorn. He and Spencer used to make it when they had movie night, so he knows the perfect combination of added butter and salt. "Is it lupus?" he calls out as he comes back in, holding the popcorn aloft.
Tyson peers over Nick, applauds. "Dude, it's never lupus."
***
Tyson just swaggers onto the bus one night. Ryan's been hanging out since a quick fuck with Pete before a signing. He's paging through one of Nick's guitar magazines when Tyson wraps an arm around him on the couch. "So! Young Rosslet!"
"Hey," Ryan curls a little closer onto himself. He's still not quite comfortable with Tyson's hands-on friendship yet.
"Have a good time with the hobbits this evening?" he asks, and it’s laced with Tyson's usual blue streak, eyebrows wagging. Ryan blushes.
"Yeah," he says, and can’t help a half smile when Tyson laughs.
Tyson picks the magazine out of Ryan's reach with a practiced hand, trilling his fingers on Ryan's arm. "We missed you in the green room after, pumpkin. But I'm betting you had better things going on."
Ryan crosses his arms and huffs. 'Pumpkin' is the latest in a line of ever more annoying pet names. "Just catching up with Pete," he mumbles and Tyson shifts and slides until he's lying with his head on Ryan's thigh, legs on the couch (his feet hang off the end).
"So, tell me. Does Pete actually wait to get you to his bunk, or just lock the bus door throw you over the couch?" He's grinning and Ryan shoves lightly at his shoulder. Tyson bats his eyelashes up at Ryan, his absurd eyes fuzzy and glittering with alcohol. Most of the time, people being drunk ties a noose around Ryan's insides, pulling and tightening. But drunk Tyson - the whole band - feels like the default state. Ryan pets his hair, and Tyson purrs. "Come on, pumpkin. Talk dirty to me."
"'m not. No!" Ryan laughs and Tyson rolls his eyes.
"Fine," he says, sighing heavily like Ryan just told him he wouldn't feed him soup while he was sick. "But, come on," Tyson picks the hem of Ryan's shirt. "He's good, right? I mean, he's all energetic."
Ryan swats Ty's hand away. "Jesus, Ritter. Yes, okay? It's. He's good."
Tyson snuggles closer, like Ryan is telling a bedtime story. "Mm," he smiles. His hand comes up and touches Ryan's shoulder. "And you're his height too- maybe a little taller, yeah?" Ryan sighs, nodding, and Tyson grins. "So how about that couch scenario?"
Ryan isn't going to say anything, especially because the couch on the AAR bus is eerily similar to the couch on the bus across the parking lot where, yes, Pete had fucked him about two hours earlier. But Tyson isn't being creepy about it; he's actually interested. Like he's asking Ryan about his hobbies. Ryan chuffs a laugh at the thought. "Do you really want to talk about this in the living room?" he grins down.
"Well, I don't care," Ty says and ruffles Ryan's hair. "But we can go hide in my bunk and do each other's hair if you want."
Ryan blushes, shaking his head and dislodging Tyson's hand. "That's okay. I don't mind."
"Good," Tyson says. He maneuvers his long limbs, twisting and sitting up so he and Ryan are facing each other, Tyson's legs sprawled out on either side of Ryan. It's nice- surprisingly asexual.
"So." Ryan says. "Yeah. He, ah. Didn't really want to wait."
Tyson's smile is contagious, and Ryan's lips twitch as he continues. "Besides, sex in the bunk is a little. Constricting?"
Tyson nods. "Pete seems like a guy who needs a little room."
"Something like that," Ryan mumbles at his hands.
"So, you get on the bus and..." Tyson leans in, waits.
"We usually," Ryan starts and clears his throat. "I mean, Pete likes it when I blow him first, so. Just cause after," Ryan pulls a face and Tyson pats his knee.
"Dude, tell me about it. Lube and head do not mix."
Ryan gives a little nervous laugh, just because he hadn't known that was something that bothered other people, too. "Then. We, you know. And that's about it -- what?"
Tyson's got a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking. Ryan hits him, and Tyson lets loose a guffaw. "Okay, Ross, repeat after me: ASS FUCKING."
"Fuck. You." Ryan says pointedly.
"Close! Half a word right!" Tyson's arm is around his neck again, tugging him forward, and Ryan struggles out of his grip and swats his arm again.
"We aren't all sex crazed pervs like you, Ritter," he notes.
Tyson sighs. "Fine, but man, you are a repressed fucker." Ryan's face gets stony and Tyson backpedals. "Not that you're. Fuck, Ry. You're young and hot and fucking Pete fucking Wentz! Don't you want to tell someone about it?"
Ryan stops whatever he'd been meaning to say. Tyson looks genuinely wary, and it catches him off-guard. He thinks about Spencer, who gets awkward when Ryan comes back from these trips; Brent, who couldn't understand even before he was mostly gone, and Brendon, who's totally different and even worse. He does, he thinks. "Maybe," he says, looking away.
Tyson leans back against the couch cushions. "So talk." When Ryan sits quietly for a few more moments, Tyson shifts a little closer and leans in. He speaks quietly, almost conspiratorially. "Okay, I'll start. My favorite thing about sex on the bus is that when Nick is forced to be quiet during sex, he totally makes up for it in other areas. Like, when we first start a tour? I know I'm going to be out of commission for a week. The couch is better than the bunks mainly because I have less chance of getting a concussion from the fucking. Your turn!"
Ryan stares at him. This was possibly more than he wanted to know. But mostly it’s fun. There's something exhilarating about it- talking about sex like this, in the living room of the bus. Sex with a guy, and the scene isn't homophobic, so much as quiet. Ryan's voice hesitates as he says, "I kind of like the bunk better. I like being- close. Just physically. With the contact. It makes me feel like, I don't know. Like it's special."
Tyson nods. "I get that. I mean, Nick and I are on top of each all the time. You and Pete have to work at being close, right?" Ryan hasn't really thought of it that way, but it makes sense. Tyson presses a little closer, his leg swung companionably over Ryan's. "So you guys like it better face to face? I mean, he's tiny enough to get away with some of that shit in the bunks. Nick and I, well. I mean, there is a reason my boyfriend took up yoga and it wasn’t for the good of his chi, or whatever."
Ryan laughs. "Yeah, I mean. Pete likes it better the other way, but I like..." he trails off and Tyson pinches his arm.
"Ross, spill it."
"Kissing, okay? I like kissing." Ryan's cheeks burn and Tyson leans over and plants a smacking kiss on one of them. He scrubs his cheek with the back of his palm, as if to rub away the imprint of Tyson's closed lips or maybe his own flush.
"Kissing's awesome," Tyson says.
Ryan looks at him through his bangs. "Shut up, liar."
Tyson holds up his hands. "Never!" he smiles, shaking out his hair. "Seriously- you've never been in the back lounge on our day off. I once paid Gaylor and Kadaver three hundred bucks to let us have it to spoon up back there and neck." Ryan bursts out laughing. "What, it was hot!" Tyson protests.
"Neck?" Ryan giggles. "Who says that?"
"Fuck off," Tyson pokes at him.
"I like it," Ryan grins. "Makes me think of cars with the windows fogged up."
"Yeah, totally," Ty agrees. "That’s the best part. Nothing like being on the edge for, like, an hour. Just kissing and hands sliding under your clothes. Though half the time I get impatient and just rip Nick's pants off."
Ryan flushes. He's always thought that was weird- something only his (limited) girlfriends would like.
"What's the matter, cupcake?" Tyson tilts his head, touching Ryan's shoulder. "We're not gonna have to go over anatomy, right?"
Ryan shrugs him off. "Fuck. No. I." He bites his bottom lip. "Pete's got a lot to do, you know?"
"What's that got..." Tyson starts and then "oh." And Ryan turns away a little, stomach tightening. Maybe Pete did like making out, he thinks. Maybe he just didn't like making out with Ryan. They'd never talked about it. "No, hey," Ty tugs Ryan back. "If he's got enough time to fuck you, he's got enough time to make out, Ry. If that’s what you want."
Tyson's eyes are kind and concerned; Ryan can tell he's sobered up by now. "I don't know," he says, voice low, unable to express himself. "I like the sex. It's really, really good. I want it." He bites his bottom lip, an annoying habit Spencer's been teasing him over forever.
"I'm not saying he's being an asshole on purpose, but I've met the dude, remember? He's just."
"Pete?" Ryan adds wryly.
"Yeah," Tyson brushes a piece of hair behind Ryan's ear. "You gotta tell him if you want," Tyson starts and Ryan shakes his head vehemently.
"I can't, Ty. It's not. I mean, we aren't dating, okay?" Tyson looks at him hard and Ryan sighs. "It is what it is, you know?"
Tyson squints at him. "Hey," he murmurs. Ryan doesn't know what to do with the look he's being given.
"What?" Ryan looks down.
"You know you don't," Tyson starts, and then just sighs and pulls Ryan into a loose hug. "I think we got off topic," he says, clearly trying to cleanse the air of whatever is hanging there now. Ryan worries that it feels a little like pity. "Sex! And since you suck at sharing, I will just interview you, like we're on the porno version of MTV." Ryan laughs against Tyson's shoulder. "Sex in public places-- yes or no?"
Ryan thinks about it. "And buses don't count?" Tyson shakes his head. "Yes," Ryan says after another moment's reflection. "But only if it's, like, somewhere cool. The beach, maybe."
Tyson pulls a face, grimacing. "Trust me- it's not that great. Sand," he mouths, shifting as if shaking it off his skin. "We've got ourselves a beach, in Florida. And. Just. Not fun."
"Really?" Ryan sits up a little and looks at Ty. "I mean, I guess it makes sense, but,"
"No, really. Sand is, like, the anti-lube." Ryan grimaces and Tyson nods vigorously. "Yeah. You know where is good though? Ferris wheels."
Ryan's eyebrows shoot up. "When did you fuck on a ferris wheel?" he asks skeptically.
"Not fuck, but fooled around. Back home, at the county fair. They had a pretty big one, and Nick and I had only been going out for a few months. We were stuck at the top for a minute and I just slipped my hand into his jeans."
Ryan gapes. "You did not."
Tyson laughs, eyes wicked. "I swear! He was holding onto the side of the car with one hand, gripping a big, fucking stupid stuffed dog he won throwing baseballs at milk crates with the other. Fucking pretty as hell, too, with the lights from the metal skeleton glowing. Ask him about it, someday."
Ryan's pretty sure he won't, but he nods anyway. The mental picture of Tyson jacking Nick off forty feet above the ground, quietly so the people of the car in front won't turn around... Ryan shakes his head and wonders if he'll ever be able to have a conversation with Ty that doesn't end in him blushing.
"Has anyone ever, you know. Caught you?" Ryan asks and Tyson laughs loudly.
"Oh, man. You mean other than Mike and Chris and Shabba and John and my cousin and Mike's girlfriend and Nick's mom that one time?" Ryan laughs loudly. Tyson grins. "The first time, we were pretty freaked. And I still think Nick's blocked that bit about his mom way out of his mind. But," he stretches his arms over his head, cocking a grin. "When the god of looove hits you," he winks.
Ryan rolls his eyes, but Tyson slings his arm over Ryan, seemingly unconcerned. "Best time ever?" he asks Ryan.
"Pete," Ryan says quickly. He hasn't actually had sex with that many people, and it’s not a hard one to pick out. "The third time." The first, he'd been so nervous, he barely remembered it. The second was fast, pressed against the wall of Ryan's cheap hotel room. The third... "It was at his hotel suite in London, and we had, like, a whole afternoon by ourselves." He could still hear Pete's voice low in his ear, saying ‘God, I thought you'd never get here’ before dragging him naked and panting from the couch to the king size bed to the hot tub.
"Yeah?" Tyson smiles, and Ryan nods. He rubs his thumb over the knuckles of his fingers, bites his bottom lip again- there are two indentations there from his incisors. "We finished the album in, like, six weeks, and he just called and said, 'I miss you. Fucking get over here.'" Ryan flushes. "That's the first time I ever went to England, and I didn't even really see it." He exhales. "My turn.... When did you know, like. When you were a kid?"
"Hmm," Tyson wrinkles his nose in concentration and shifts so that Ryan's head is almost resting on his shoulder. It's new, not being the tallest, and Ryan likes it. "It's one of those things where I guess, yeah, if I'd been paying attention, I would gave gotten it a lot sooner, but I grew up in Oklahoma, sweetheart. So it wasn't until I was in high school that I figured out that getting a boner in the boy’s locker room was pretty fucking queer. I got myself a girlfriend fast after that."
Ryan glances up in question. "Really?"
"Yeah, but that was about six months before I met Nicky, and after that my faux hetero lifestyle was shot all to hell."
"Oh," Ryan says. He doesn't know how to phrase the question he's thinking, saying, "So, Nick -- you and he. I mean, he was your first?"
Tyson nods. "First, last, and only, baby." Ryan doesn't realize he's made a face, but Tyson ruffles his hair, chuckling. "I think it kinda weirds him out, too. The way I see it, I just got luckier at sixteen than most people get ever."
"No, I mean," Ryan is searching for something, but all he can land on is wow. It's just.. "Wow," he says, shaking his head. "And you don't, you know. Miss it?"
"Miss what?" Ty asks. "Miss random hookups in bar bathrooms? Nasty breakups?" He stretches a little and Ryan leans closer, sighing unconsciously when Tyson's fingers brush the hair at his temple. "I think I'm doing okay, don't you?"
Ryan smiles against Tyson's shirt and thinks of the feeling he gets in his stomach whenever he sees Tyson and Nick together, tight and hot. "Yeah," he says softly and doesn't mind it when Tyson kisses the top of his head.
"Ask me one," Ryan says, after a moment. They're just sitting, slumped together, listening to the buzz of the heat and the random bursts of people-noise (shouts, laughter, curses) outside.
"Okay," Tyson murmurs, shifting and stretching. His feet kick at a Coke can on the floor; it rolls under the table with a clanking sound. "Lemme think of a good one." He knits his brows together, as if solving a calculus problem. Ryan bumps his shoulder, feeling himself smile. "Ryan Ross, tell me your dirty little secret." Tyson grins as Ryan moans, grimacing.
"Like anything can beat Gaylor's," Ryan says with an eye roll.
Tyson laughs. "Come on, dude. It's only fair. Everyone on this fucking bus has to have an answer to that question."
Ryan huffs and spends so long thinking that Tyson starts singing the Jeopardy theme song. "Fine, God. I. Whatever," Ryan says, trying to sound nonchalant. "Sometimes I jerk off when I'm on the phone. With people."
"Like phone sex?" Tyson asks, and Ryan shakes his head.
"Like, they don't know."
He's blushing to his toes and he expects Tyson to laugh but he doesn't. He leans in with that same interested grin. "Who?"
Ryan shakes his head. "I - think that's two questions in a row."
Tyson waves his hand unconcernedly, his smile not wavering at all. "Follow-ups are an important component of interview techniques," he says. "Come on -- you wouldn't have told me that if you didn't want me to ask you who." He bats his eyelashes, hand feeling the fabric of Ryan's shirt over his shoulder. "Spill it."
Ryan exhales through his nose, and stares at a fixed spot on the floor. "Pete, sometimes," he mumbles, "when he's not in the mood for phone sex. He is a lot of the time, but he likes to tell me about his day, about the label or his clothing line." Ryan grins, a little. "And he doesn't really mind if all I do is make nodding noises back at him."
"Wentz does love the sound of his own voice," Tyson says and Ryan is startled by the sound of yelling as the bus door swings open.
Nick is smiling. "If that is not the pot calling the kettle black, Ty..."
Tyson grins. "Saved by the bell," he stage whispers and Nick puts his hands on his hips, cocking his head quizzically.
"What are you boys gossiping about?" he drawls and Ryan tucks his head into Tyson's shoulder.
"Noooothing," Ty replies slyly and Nick just shakes his head.
Tyson sits up, shifting Ryan further over as he leans forward. His free hand reaches out, grabbing the air in Nick's direction. "Yeah?" Nick says, but he's smiling; he turns in, planting a kiss on Tyson's mouth. Tyson's lips curl into a grin, and Ryan swears his eyes slide to Ryan as he curls his fingers into the nape of Nick's neck, kissing him deeply. Nick's hand wraps around Tyson's bicep, tongue darting out just a fraction and Ryan burrows a little lower, trying to watch without looking like he's watching.
Tyson makes a little wanting noise in the back of his throat that surprises even himself and Nick pulls back with a little gasp. "Sorry," he says in Ryan's general direction and Ryan just darts his eyes away quickly and shrugs. "The boys are off finding a bar that theoretically serves shots out of high heeled shoes," Nick continues, toeing off his shoes and folding onto the couch on Tyson's other side. Ty's hand is still on his arm.
"Movie?"
*
It occurs to him one day that, other than a few hallway gropes in various venues, Ryan hasn’t seen Pete in nearly a week. He gets a text: "come over b4 soundcheck" while he and Tyson are explaining Firefly to Nick.
He goes, because he's been feeling a little guilty, really, and wants to see Pete. He likes Pete. Mainly. But when he gets to the FOB bus and Pete presses him against the wall and presses a knee, hard, between his thighs, its less fun than it used to be. After a few weeks of Nick and Ty, Ryan has sort of come to expect foreplay.
He sits in their dressing room and watches them hold hands, or Nick kiss Tyson's cheek. Tyson gives Nick neck rubs. Ryan thinks, as Pete's hands shove at his shoulders and he slides to his knees, that he might need one soon.
Ryan really likes giving head. He's good at it, and he really likes things he's good at. But when Pete comes with a stuttered moan and Ryan swallows and Pete leans back and grins down at him with a wink, he feels... kind of wrong. Dirty.
"Go take a nap," Pete murmurs, ruffling his hair. Ryan nods, and thinks maybe he'll get a kiss, an endearment, but Pete's out the door. He goes and curls up in Pete's bunk, closes his eyes. He falls into an uneasy sleep-- the FOB bus smells like Pete, and dirty socks, and soy milk-- and when Pete bangs back onto the bus after the show and slips into the bunk with him, whispering "glad you're still here", Ryan thinks maybe, maybe this time... but Pete's kisses aren't sweet. They're Pete, and they're secondary to his hands which are sliding Ryan's pants down to his thighs.
Ryan doesn't know how to ask for what he wants. He kisses Pete's neck, tries to show him how he wants it - slow, intimate. "Please," and Pete grins, grabs his cock.
Ryan's eyes roll back because, really, he hasn't had sex in a week and he's been living on top of four very sexy guys, but Pete's just not getting it and Ryan groans in frustration. "Yeah, you fucking love it," Pete says low in his ear, and Ryan blushes beet red.
"Pete," he stammers out and Pete's jerking him harder. It's not that he doesn't like it-- raw and primal and sweaty is good-- but he's never really wished for anything underneath it until now.
"No," Ryan whispers, as Pete bites his neck, hard enough to leave a mark. He doesn't think he can breathe; the tiny bunk is suffocating.
Pete nuzzles his neck, curling against him and rocking his erection against Ryan's thigh. "No what, baby?" he murmurs.
"I just - no, okay?" Ryan says, and rolls away.
"Ry," Pete says, confused and little annoyed, and Ryan scrambles over him and falls from the bunk, tugging his pants up and blushing hotly when Andy comes out of the bathroom.
"Sorry, sorry," he mutters and takes off down the corridor. The driver is already there but the doors aren’t closed yet and all he can think of is getting back to the warmth of the AAR bus, curling into Nick's side and not thinking about this.
"Ryan!" Pete calls after him, worried this time, and Ryan takes off down the stairs and around the buses. Tyson is still out signing for fans, by the sound of the screaming girls on the other side of the fence and Ryan thinks "thank god".
The AAR bus is parked closer to the fence than the Fall Out Bus, and for one horrible moment, he thinks he'll have to face all of the fans to get onto it. But he ducks behind the Hawthorne Heights bus and catches his breath before sprinting over unseen. Nick taught him the code to the bus door, but he can't remember whose birthday it is at the moment. He pushes random buttons, and then tries again, and he's so frustrated he could scream when the door swings open. Captain John's staring at him from the top of the steps. "Hey, kid. You okay?"
"Yeah, sorry," and he's a little mortified, because what's he going to say? Sorry, my not-boyfriend wanted to have sex with me and I freaked? But John just looks concerned, not annoyed and says "Come on, come in here before they eat you," he smiles toward the girls at the fence and Ryan climbs the steps gratefully. Nick's on the couch, still damp from a lightening quick shower after the show. When he sees Ryan, he doesn't say anything, just gets up and tugs him into a hug.
Nick's good at hugging -- that's something Tyson taught Ryan early on, and Ryan's never been more thankful of it than now. He folds into Nick, the height difference making it so that he can tuck his head against Nick's shoulder. He's still half-hard, and he's pretty sure he looks about as fucked as he almost was, but he needs something to hold onto really fucking badly right now.
"Hey, hey, you're okay," he says soothingly into Ryan's temple, rubbing circles on Ryan's back and holding him close around his shoulders. Ryan can hear feet shuffling, John and Dave heading to the back lounge to give them some privacy. Ryan just clings to Nick and he's finally calming down a little, hands not shaking anymore.
He hears yells as the door opens and Tyson climbs on. "Hey, they're really cool today," he starts and Nick shakes his head over Ryan's shoulder. Ryan tilts himself closer against Nick as he hears Tyson's voice. He doesn't want to have to explain himself, and he's worried that Tyson will make him - Tyson's blunt where Nick's subtle, and Ryan feels cheap and used and not like talking about it. But Tyson just wraps his arms around Ryan from the other side, and he's surrounded. He likes it.
They eventually steer Ryan to the couch and everyone sort of tiptoes around while Ryan snuffles quietly into Nick's shoulder. Ryan doesn't even realize Mike's there until he kneels next to him and presses a cup of hot tea into his hand. "Lots of honey in it," he smiles softly and squeezes Ryan's knee. Ryan's throat closes up again, just from the small sweet gesture. Tyson's on his other side; Ryan feels like he has double shields from the world. He sips at his tea and tips his head onto Nick's shoulder.
"What the - " Tyson starts, shifting. Ryan looks over, and sees Tyson's phone, lighting up the fabric of his denim. He pulls it out, and looks to Nick. "I'd better take this."
***
"Is he okay?" Pete says, pretty early in the conversation.
Tyson scratches his head. "We've got him," he says, which is his best answer.
"Yeah, okay," Pete replies, audibly relieved.
"What the hell happened, Wentz?" Tyson asks, low enough that no one will hear him up front. Tyson can hear a whooshing noise, and knows from experience that's Pete shutting his bed curtains.
"I don't know, dude," he says, voice low. "I mean, it was all cool, you know? We were just fooling around -- he was totally into it, and then. My hand's on his dick, and he just freaks out."
Tyson flushes a little. It’s not like this is news, it’s just that Ryan is... Ryan. He stopped being the boyslut of Panic to AAR about a week ago and Tyson's not really comfortable with the way Pete's talking about him. "You're sure he was... I mean, it just came out of nowhere?" Tyson sounds skeptical and Pete huffs defensively.
"Completely," Pete says firmly. "At first, I didn't even realize he was telling me he didn't want it - it was totally surreal. Like a pod-Ryan, or something." He gives a short laugh. "And then he bolted. His phone's here - I called it like ten times. I figured, since he's been spending time with you guys, that you might know where he is." Tyson can't read Pete's tone.
He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose and thinks about the look on Nick's face when he came on the bus, how Ryan was still shaking a little when he wrapped an arm around him. "Look, I think. He's a little freaked out right now. I think maybe we should hold onto him for the night, figure this out in the morning."
Pete sighs like a man being asked to make a sacrifice for the cause, and Tyson wants to deck him. "Fine, just tell him we have his shit, and I'm not mad, okay?"
"I'll make sure he knows," Tyson says. There's a silence on the line, and he adds, "Crazy crowd tonight, yeah?"
Pete laughs, and Tyson can hear as he slides into the smooth-talking dude Tyson met on Warped. "Fucking insane, man. Dirty said nine thousand."
Tyson whistles. "Shit."
"I know, right? A bunch of dirty kids from the Midwest, and we're pulling nine thousand in the Carolinas." Tyson looks up when he hears a laugh from the front of the bus, a good sign but also a reminder that he has better places to be.
"Totally insane, dude," he replies. "I better get going. See you in the next state."
"Cool," Pete clicks his phone closed and Tyson strolls back out.
***
Ryan doesn't even think about it, just shifts closer to Nick when Tyson gets up and slips into the back of the bus. Mike comes and sits in Ty's seat at his back and Chris, Ryan notices, is on the counter by the door, just swinging his feet, eyes darting from Ryan to the door and back. None of them have asked him what happened, and he hopes they don't. It sounds foolish in his head-- it not like he didn't come on tour to sleep with Pete, after all-- but thinking about it, about being in Pete's bunk, just makes his stomach hurt now. He sighs heavily and Mike rubs his back.
“Hey," Chris says, as if casting about for something to break the silence, "ask Mike what some fan threw at him at the show tonight." Nick laughs next to him, and Mike shakes his head.
"What?" Ryan asks, looking to him.
"Nothing," Mike murmurs, flushing, at the same time that Chris crows, "a manthong!"
Ryan giggles. "Seriously?" He knows they're humoring him, but he doesn't feel like he's a burden.
"We are never to speak of it again!" Mike intones, and Chris just wags his eyebrows.
"I bet it was the dude in the chaps who was in line when we got here."
"Stop," Mike groans and covers his ears and Ryan pats his leg.
"Was it a nice manthong?"
Mike looks at him for a second and bursts out laughing. "No, dude, this was. No." he shakes his head emphatically.
Tyson comes out from the lounge with a thin, forced smile. "Everything okay?" Nick asks and Tyson nods a little, scootching onto the sofa between Ryan and Mike and slings an arm around his shoulders.
Ryan holds his cup up for Tyson, wordless. Tyson gives a laughing sigh, shakes his head. "No thanks." Nick's fingers are brushing the back of Ryan's neck, soothing motions over the muscles. He knows that Tyson and Nick are exchanging a fast, sharp dialogue with their eyes over his head; he suspects Mike and Chris might be in on it, too. He doesn't care. He knows they aren't patronizing him, or mocking him. He feels safer here than he has in months, to be honest, and not even that thought can scare him right now.
He's exhausted suddenly, yawning into his cup, and Nick smiles and says "Come on, bedtime," and hauls him to his feet.
Tyson is at his back, hugging him around his waist as they walk to the bunks. "We can't do three to a bunk, so who do you want tonight kiddo? Nick's bendier, but I warn you, he's been known to snore." Ryan blinks back at Ty.
"Just didn't think you'd want to be by yourself, is all," Nick drawls softly and tugs the curtain back on his bunk.
"Thank you," Ryan says - he wouldn't have known how to ask for this, but they seem to take it as a matter of course. He looks between them, tongue-tied.
Tyson laughs, kisses his forehead. "Take Nick," he murmurs, ruffling Ryan's hair. He lowers his voice to a whisper. "He's the best cuddler in the world." Ryan laughs a little.
Nick shakes his head in an aww-shucks sort of way and Tyson kisses him softly before taking Ryan's cup and heading back to the kitchenette. Ryan can hear a little talking past the curtain, low enough that he can't make it out, but Nick is handing him a pair of worn track pants and a Bon Jovi t-shirt. "Change and in," he orders and Ryan slips into the bathroom and changes quickly. He tries not to see where his face is blotchy from crying or the red patch on his neck where Pete's teeth had scraped less than gently. He rinses his mouth and thinks again that he would do best to have a toothbrush on this bus and comes out to find Nick in his PJs, already tucked in his bunk. "In, Ross." he holds out his hand and Ryan slips into the bunk and burrows against him shamelessly.
"Thanks," Ryan says, as Nick folds himself around Ryan. There's not much room in the bunk, but Ryan likes it that way, likes the way he can curl in against Nick's chest without any expectations.
"Hey, no problem," Nick whispers with a smile and folds his arm over Ryan's back, lets Ryan's head rest on his chest. "You know, you don't have to tell me what happened, but I'm here if you need to talk, okay?" Ryan swallows hard and nods, clutching a little at Nick's shirt.
He takes a deep breath, but doesn't say anything. Nick makes small circles on the small of Ryan's back. His breath feathers Ryan's hair. "I thought you were going to say that." Ryan smiles at that and burrows a little closer. Nick lets their ankles tangle together and Ryan sighs. "Tomorrow, we're doing pancakes, I think," Nick yawns and Ryan's eyes flutter closed. He's bone tired, all the adrenaline from the evening ebbing away.
"Thank you," he says quietly, most of the words muffled by Nick's shirt.
"Hey, don't thank me - Kadaver's the pancake man."
Ryan laughs. It's a struggle to get his mouth to form words, but he tries his hardest, mumbles, "I meant, not - "
"I know what you meant," Nick says, and Ryan smiles. "Sleep, kiddo."
***
The next thing Ryan knows, he's waking up to the sound of Chris cursing as he slides out of his bunk and steps on an errant shoe. He's still wrapped almost entirely into Nick and there is a little glow in the bunk. He blinks up to see Nick reading a mystery novel by itty-bitty-book-light.
"Hey," Nick murmurs, looking down. His face opens into a smile. "How'd you sleep?"
Ryan stretches his legs out until his toes hit the wall; he has the courtesy to turn his head as he yawns. "Good, thanks."
"Did the light wake you?" he asks with a frown. "Tyson sleeps like the dead, so this is usually,"
"No," Ryan smiles. Chris thumps into through the tiny hallway and squishes past Dave, whose hand flails into Mike's bunk and makes him jump in surprise, kicking the bunk next to him. Being Nick's. Ryan juts a thumb toward the noise and Nick just laughs.
"I have no idea how any band ever gets any sleep ever," he says.
"Earplugs," comes Chris's voice from right outside the curtain. He sticks his head in and grins. "Mornin'." Chris has the sort of smile that's contagious; Ryan finds himself grinning back.
"Pancakes?" Nick says, resting his book on his chest, next to Ryan's shoulder.
"Kadaver's doing his thing out there. I'm staying out of the way of his spatula -- "
"Chris eats the batter," Nick cuts in.
Ryan wrinkles his nose. There's raw egg in there. Chris just flicks Nick's shin with his finger and says "come on, early bird gets one that’s not shaped like a penis!" and slips back out. Ryan laughs out loud.
"That's what I like to hear!" Tyson booms outside.
A second later the bunk is full of Tyson, long limbs and dark hair trying to push themselves inside regardless of the lack of space. Ryan finds himself sandwiched between them-- it should be uncomfortable, but its not.
"Jesus Christ," Nick moans as Tyson squirms on top of them; Ryan gets an elbow in his side and yelps. "Ty, get the - " Tyson's nosing his face against Nick's neck, and Nick has to stop to laugh, pushing at him. "Ugh, there's no way you've brushed your teeth this morning."
Tyson pulls back, affronted. "I taste like sunshine and puppies, Wheeler. The masses would love to give me a kiss." He turns his head, catching Ryan in a chaste kiss.
Ryan blushes faintly but smiles up at him. "Mornin' sunshine," Tyson grins and turns back to Nick. "See?" Nick rolls his eyes but lets Tyson lean and kiss him, less chaste this time, but tender. It's a stand-alone kiss, one that means just enough by itself, and isn't leading to more. Ryan turns away, blinks at the curtain. He feels a little like he's intruding.
Nick makes a soft sound when the kiss ends. Ryan hears the whispered brush of Tyson's lips on Nick's cheek. "We're scarring the wee one," Tyson stage whispers, and Ryan shoves him with his shoulder, laughing.
"Then get the hell out, dork," Nick stage whispers back.
"Okay, up, up!" Tyson slithers back out of the bunk, Ryan's wrist in his hand, and tugs until Ryan's sliding out too, shivering as his bare feet hit the cool of the thin carpet. "There are pancakes to the fore and bathrooms to the aft," he says. "Pick your poison." Ryan picks bathroom first and Tyson nods. "Wise choice. Though you will be left with the pancakes shaped like Shabba’s ball sac. Kadaver makes those from memory."
"HEY!" comes a yell from the front, followed by a shoe. Ryan hides in the bathroom, grinning, until the scuffling dies down.
Authors: EL and Toby
Fandoms: AAR, FOB, Panic
Pairings: Nick/Tyson, Pete/Ryan, Mike/Ryan
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~32,000 total (god help us)
Summary: Ryan's good at fucking: it's the rest of it that sometimes confuses him. (mult. POVs)
Disclaimer: Never happened.
A/N: This is posted here, but Toby and I wrote this over IM TOGETHER for MONTHS AND MONTHS. It ate our brains and made us squealing, giggly girls. More than half the credit for this fic should go to Toby-- those of you that know her? Drop her an email and say nice job. That being said, you might be thinking WTF?! Ryan Ross living on the AAR tourbus during the BC&UD tour?? Are you on CRACK? To which the answer is YES, but it is the very best kind. I hope you all will come along because I promise this will be a very nice ride.
A few months ago, Toby and I had a conversation about Ryan Ross on tour with FOB during BC&UD:
Toby: Nick Wheeler would be appalled at their treatment of Ryan.
Toby: That is NOT the way to treat a pretty eager boy
EL: yes!
Toby: Tyson and Nick would adopt him.
Toby: He rides with them during bcud.
EL: was panic on bcud?
Toby: No, but they weren't doing anything!
Toby: Pete called him originally
Toby: And Nick watches, horrified. They make it a mission.
EL: Ryan is like an extended booty call. Pete sometimes actually forgets he's waiting on the bus and goes off with Dirty after a show
Toby: That's exactly what it is. So Nick starts inviting him over- no one in Pete's band can do anything.
Toby: He's skittish about the drunk thing, but Nick tries to put him at ease.
EL: They never make him feel pressured to drink, and none of the AAR boys ever get so drunk they throw up, or pass out
EL: its just... amusing.
Toby: Pete had whispered to Ryan that Nick and Tyson were fucking, but Ryan is totally shocked- they're a /couple/.
And then it became this:
Pete and Ryan are fucking but that doesn't make them... anything really.
Nick wakes Ty up with coffee in the morning, and they share a bunk and giggle and Chris and Mike just roll with it, like it's normal. They have an anniversary. Their whole crew knows, but that's because they're all friends - the band keeps the same techs every tour. And Ryan feels at first like maybe he shouldn't know, like Pete shouldn't have told him as he tugged Ryan into his bunk.
He feels almost embarrassed by it, like it’s not something rockstars should DO. The boys he knows-- Pete, Brendon, William, even ANDY-- go through people on tour like they're water. Nick and Ty are all forever and domestic. Ryan has no idea how to act around them.
It's not as though Ryan's really been exposed to this sort of relationship before. He used to download “Queer as Folk” episodes off bitorrent in high school, but these are two people that he really likes, two guys, making a go of it. And they're nice to each other, and they play music and cuddle.
Ryan knows that the girls who throw themselves at Ty aren't a problem. (He even meets Kim once, on the bus in LA, laughing with Nick and Ty over a can of Redbull and watching Arrested Development. She's pretty cool.) He's amazed when Nick shrugs off the news that a pair of twinky boys have Tyson cornered at the afterparty, all eyeliner and lipgloss and hips. Nick just shakes his head and says "not really his type" with a grin.
Nick, meanwhile, thinks it's endearing the way Ryan is puzzling through his and Tyson's relationship. He sees the way he watches them, as if he's trying to understand but isn't quite there yet. Nick's pretty sure he's not sleeping with Pete as often anymore.
It's weird. Ryan doesn't know who to talk to about them. Like, Brendon and Pete are clearly no use, and Spencer... Ryan talking to Spencer about boys who are in love just. He can't. Patrick is pretty cool about it, but Patrick is more confused about why Ryan's confused. "I mean, they're in love," Patrick says frowning. "What's not to get?"
Ryan really worries Patrick. He almost feels like it's his fault. For some weird Patrick-esque reason, he thinks it's his job to mop up Pete's messes. He’s been doing it for years. And he's okay about letting most stuff go-- the sycophants are sycophants and get what they deserve-- but Ryan was clearly a little fucked up pre-Pete and Pete didn't make matters any better.
Patrick and Nick are sort of tacitly working together on Project Ryan. Patrick keeps Pete from starting trouble over Ryan hanging out in AAR's bus. Pete gets whiny about how Ry was supposed to be keeping him company, and Patrick reminds him that he was out until 4am with Andy and Dirty at a club Ryan isn't old enough to get into. Pete is pouty.
Meanwhile, Nick and Tyson swaddle Ryan up in between them and show him their favorite movies. Nick makes them watch the Bon Jovi tour DVD. Ryan thinks Jon is hot. He mumbles it somewhere near the end of the first hour and Tyson whoops. "He's totally yours!" Tyson grins at Nick. Ryan blushes. "Don't tell my boyfriend, but I would so bang Jon Bon Jovi," he stage whispers at Ryan and Nick hits him with a pillow. It's... really fun.
Ryan falls asleep after they switch to "Chinatown" - Nick has a thing for Faye Dunaway, Tyson tells him. He's squashed in between them, which should be awkward, but they're both warm and don't seem to mind. Ryan's so slight, and Tyson actually carries him to the extra bunk ("Tyson's bunk") and rolls him inside. Ryan grumbles and falls back asleep almost instantly. Nick and Ty grin at each other. "It's a boy!" Tyson says and Nick just shakes his head.
"You're the one getting up for midnight feedings, dude."
Ryan wakes up in a strange bed the next morning. He thrashes for a moment, panic rising in his throat, but then he hears Mike's voice, and smiles. "The perfect waffle batter consistency has to retain some of its gumminess."
Ryan laughs, and stretches.
"You're going to break the iron, moron," Chris counters.
"Fuck you!" Mike retorts, but Ryan can hear the always-present smile in his voice. When Ryan slides out of bed, Nick and Ty are still asleep across from him and he tiptoes to the front of the bus.
"Hey kid," Chris smiles at him around the neck of a beer bottle. Ryan checks the clock-- it's 12:15, so he lets it slide.
"Hi," he says, rubbing his eyes. He takes a seat against the corner of the bus couch, across from the table. "He's right, you know. It's gotta be really thick to work right."
"Yeah?" Chris crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows. "You learned this when? Cause it looks like you haven't eaten a waffle in, like, years, you skinny bastard." Mike cuffs him lightly in the side of the head and they mock scuffle in the kitchenette for a minute. Ryan just grins at them, irrationally happy.
They're a little like Brendon and Spencer -- easy with each other, comfortable. "You want blueberries?" Mike asks, and Chris groans.
"You'll gunk up the iron, you can't do that."
"Yes, please,” Ryan grins.
"Fine, fucker, but you're buying us a new one when that one ends up gross beyond repair." Chris just flops on the couch next to Ryan and shakes his head as Mike drops a handful of blueberries into the batter.
Ryan closes his eyes and breaths deeply as Mike closes the lid of the iron and the smell of waffles fills the bus. "Where did you guys even get blueberries anyway?" He didn't think of tour buses in general or AAR specifically as fresh fruit locales.
"The wonder of Shabba," Mike laughs, stirring the batter a few more times. "He's magical." Ryan laughs, too -- he's met Shabba a couple of times on the bus, a round guy with a beard and a lisp. It's nice, the way they're all some sort of family. It's almost like the bus is their home, like they're a band of traveling musicians or something.
"Do I smell the heavenly aroma of waffles?" Tyson's voice booms out from the back lounge. He strides in, wearing only his boxers. His hair sticks out at unnatural angles, and there's a necklace of bite marks over his neck and collar.
"Dude, seriously," Chris groans, but he's laughing.
"Shirtless people named Gaylor cannot throw stones!" Tyson wisely notes with a pointed finger as he wanders over to Mike and hooks his chin over his shoulder. "I get the first one, right? Because I'm the most special boy?" He makes a ridiculous doe-eyed face and Mike smears a line of waffle batter down his cheek.
"The first one's for Ryan."
"I have been replaced! Supplanted, by my own brothers." Tyson turns, points his finger at Ryan. "You're trouble. "
Ryan flushes, shakes his head. "I just got up first."
"We seriously try not to let Ty get the first waffle ever," Chris leans close with a stage whisper and yeah, Ryan is suddenly quite aware that he's not wearing a shirt. (It's so normal that sometimes he forgets.) "He basically makes sex noises while he eats it and wants another one immediately. Not a pretty sight." Ryan flushes a little when Chris leans in -- it's reflex, these days, to expect something when a hot guy leans close to him. But the band treats him as a kid brother, or maybe a high schooler they're showing around their fraternity for the weekend.
"What's that I hear about sex noises?" Nick wanders in wearing jeans and nothing else. He flops on the couch next to Chris and puts his feet in Chris's lap, stealing a sip of beer. Nick ruffles Ryan's hair, and Ryan tilts into the touch, smiling contentedly. "You sleep okay?"
"Yeah," he says, a little embarrassed. "Sorry I passed out on you. I had a long day."
"Mmmm." Tyson nods. "Does day rhyme with Wentz, huh, huh?" He makes lewd hand motions and Ryan's smile falters a little.
"Leave the kid the fuck alone," Mike elbows him in the ribs as he opens the waffle maker and tugs the first one out with a fork. "You better come make it how you like it before the bottomless pit gets his hands on it," he tells Ryan.
Ryan gets up, squeezing past Tyson and Mike -- there's barely enough room in the kitchenette for one person and there are elbows everywhere. Mike hands Ryan the syrup without him even needing to ask for it, and the butter's sitting next to the batter pitcher. Tyson amuses himself by flicking Chris's gauge. There isn't any preamble, Chris is fine until flick number seven and then Tyson is on the floor, Chris straddling his waist and pinning his wrists to the floor. "You know I hate it when you do that, fucker," he grins as Tyson laughs and struggles underneath him.
"Took you long enough to do something," Ty gasps as Chris smacks him once in the chest and rolls off.
"He had to finish his beer," Nick says nonchalantly from the couch.
Mike laughs and looks at Ryan. "You got everything? I think we have whipped cream in the fridge."
"Uhh," Nick starts.
"Nope!" Tyson grins as he sits up. Chris leans against the couch, and moans. Ryan pauses, and then - oh, he gets it, blushing and looking down so his hair hides his eyes.
Mike cracks up, looping an arm around Ryan's shoulder. "Welcome to the Nick and Ty show."
Tyson throws up the horns from his spot on the floor.
Ryan is mostly through his waffle, sitting at the table and watching Mike make one after another while the boys poke at each other around him. When Dave and John climb onto the bus an hour later, Ryan's been roped into a game of Halo with Chris and Tyson. "We're rolling out in fifteen boys," Dave calls out and Ryan pauses the game.
"Um, I guess I should," he starts and Ty pouts.
"We just started, man!"
"I don't want to be in the way," he says, eyes darting to Chris, and to Mike and Dave and John.
"’s cool," Mike smiles and Ryan smiles back, slowly.
"Just send a note to Prince Wentzness to make sure he knows we've gone and kidnapped you, yeah?" Tyson grins. "Tell him I'm holding you for ransom."
Ryan slides his sidekick out of his hip pocket, flipping up the display screen. "What are your terms?"
Tyson grabs Ryan, pulling him close and wrestling him into his lap. "You're such a scrawny thing -- tell him he can have you back for three PS2 controllers and a kiss from Patrick."
"Hey!" Ryan pinches Tyson's arm, mildly offended.
"Fine, ow! Four controllers, a kiss from Patrick and Season One of 24."
"Better," Ryan grumbles, but he can't quite hide his grin as he types a quick note to Pete.
Nick wanders in from the shower a few minutes later as they're starting up the bus. "Hey, you're staying?" he says, genuinely happy.
Ryan flushes a little. "Yeah, I guess."
"Cool. Hey, when you're done, you wanna take a listen to some stuff I've been working on?"
"Yeah, sure," Ryan stammers. Next to Nick Wheeler he's a fucking plebe on the guitar, and the idea of playing with him makes Ryan's fingers itch a little.
"Look at that," Tyson grins, "he's making new friends!" He nuzzles Ryan's neck, cooing, and Ryan squirms, laughing as Tyson's hands tickle his sides -- he's being tickled, for the first time in maybe months, and he can hardly breathe for laughing. Tyson's bigger than him, but Ryan's got speed on his side, and he curls up into a ball, kicking out to fight back.
The game ends abruptly when one of Ryan's flailing feet connects with a cord on the playstation, and the screen goes dark. "Fuckers!" Chris says, throwing a pillow.
Tyson stops tickling and just collapses full body onto Ryan, both of them breathing heavily. Nick shakes his head. "Come find me when he unpins you," he laughs and heads back into the lounge. Chris kicks at them as his phone rings and heads to hide in his bunk while he chats quietly.
Ryan thinks he should go find Nick, but Tyson just shifts over a fraction, arm warm around Ryan's waist, as they lay tangled up on the couch. He grabs the remote. "Movie?" he asks, and Ryan just blinks. Tyson has the goofiest face, Ryan realizes, up close. From a normal distance, he's all eyes and jaw and cheekbones, but at six inches away, Ryan can see the way his facial muscles twist into strange expressions, as if Tyson's spent years trying to make himself look less pretty. Tyson waggles his eyebrows, and whispers, "If I don't let go, Nick will make us popcorn."
"Okay," Ryan whispers back, almost conspiratorially, and Tyson grins widely. He shifts and settles for a second more and flips the television on. Mike had been watching House and the DVD was still in.
Ty just presses play. "Can only watch this fucking show on DVD. I need to rewind too much. Fucking doctors and their fancy talk," he drawls in an exaggerated accent.
Ryan just tucks his arm under his head and nods. "Yeah, but they're hot."
"Indeed," Ty agrees. Tyson's warm next to him and it’s... comfortable. Ryan hasn't been this close to someone where it hasn't been sexual in a long time. Not since Spencer stopped sleeping in with him when he slept over.
They're up to the first false diagnosis -- Tyson and Ryan watch in comfortable silence as Foreman slides a needle into a girl's chest, a bared rectangle of her ribs and skin showing under the blue tarp. Tyson's face is a mask of horrified fascination; he makes a little grimacing noise as the 3-D effects show just what the needle's supposed to do. "Sure you want to eat and watch at the same time?" Ryan teases, and Tyson pokes him.
"Hush. Watch Chase."
"Duh," Ryan rolls his eyes and focuses on Chase's ass (and maybe a little of House's too). Nick wanders in a few minutes later, Def Leopard t-shirt riding a little high on his stomach. When Nick walks past the screen, Ryan's eyes momentarily dart to Nick's ass too, and he looks up to see Tyson grinning at him.
"Yeah, I know, right?"
"No, that’s not,” Ryan starts, mildly horrified, but Tyson cuts him off.
"Don't you dare insult my boyfriend’s ass. That is a fine ass my friend."
"Damn right it is," Ryan hears Nick call out, his head buried in the fridge.
Tyson makes a loud lip-smacking noise, adding, "Bring the boys some hydration, won't you, darlin?"
Ryan still can't look Nick in the eye when he comes back with a Rolling Rock and a Jones' soda. Nick touches his shoulder, handing it to him. Tyson grabs for his beer, wrapping his hand around Nick's wrist and pulling him down for a kiss. Ryan turns away, or tries to, but Nick they are basically kissing right over his head and averting his eyes means focusing either on Ty's chin or Nick's... groin. He settles for closing them tight. "I think we're grossing out the kid," Nick grins above him and Tyson plants a smacking kiss to Ryan's temple. "Come on, shift over," he says and they all move around until Tyson is squashed in the middle of them on the couch, one arm still hooked around Ry's shoulder.
"I was promised popcorn," Ryan says and pouts a little.
Nick looks to Tyson, who puts his hands up, palms up. "I have no idea what he's talking about," he murmurs. His beer wobbles treacherously on his thigh.
"Oh, no?" Nick says, and Tyson grins.
"My hand to God." They're staring at one another, matching smiles and eyes flickering in a language he can't even pretend to speak. Ryan sets his soda down, pulling his legs out from under himself as he stands. "It's in the top left cabinet," Ty calls out. "We like it extra salty, sweetness."
Ryan flips him off and opens the cabinet, rifling through a surprisingly neat and organized pile of junk food. He pauses. "Pork rinds? Oh my GOD," he wrinkles his nose.
"It's got to be better than the soy shit Hurley keeps on the other bus," Nick points out. (Nick has a good point.)
He finds the microwave popcorn in the back and sticks one in the machine, leaning on the counter. Nick and Tyson are folded quietly into each other on the couch, Nick's head tipped to Ty's shoulder as they watch the show. Ryan's stomach hurts a little in a way he can't quite get a grip on and he turns away.
The microwave buzzes and Ryan shakes out the bag. They actually have bowls and decent plates on their bus, too -- "Mrs. Wheeler," Chris explained to him -- so Ryan takes out one of the bigger ones and dumps the popcorn. He and Spencer used to make it when they had movie night, so he knows the perfect combination of added butter and salt. "Is it lupus?" he calls out as he comes back in, holding the popcorn aloft.
Tyson peers over Nick, applauds. "Dude, it's never lupus."
***
Tyson just swaggers onto the bus one night. Ryan's been hanging out since a quick fuck with Pete before a signing. He's paging through one of Nick's guitar magazines when Tyson wraps an arm around him on the couch. "So! Young Rosslet!"
"Hey," Ryan curls a little closer onto himself. He's still not quite comfortable with Tyson's hands-on friendship yet.
"Have a good time with the hobbits this evening?" he asks, and it’s laced with Tyson's usual blue streak, eyebrows wagging. Ryan blushes.
"Yeah," he says, and can’t help a half smile when Tyson laughs.
Tyson picks the magazine out of Ryan's reach with a practiced hand, trilling his fingers on Ryan's arm. "We missed you in the green room after, pumpkin. But I'm betting you had better things going on."
Ryan crosses his arms and huffs. 'Pumpkin' is the latest in a line of ever more annoying pet names. "Just catching up with Pete," he mumbles and Tyson shifts and slides until he's lying with his head on Ryan's thigh, legs on the couch (his feet hang off the end).
"So, tell me. Does Pete actually wait to get you to his bunk, or just lock the bus door throw you over the couch?" He's grinning and Ryan shoves lightly at his shoulder. Tyson bats his eyelashes up at Ryan, his absurd eyes fuzzy and glittering with alcohol. Most of the time, people being drunk ties a noose around Ryan's insides, pulling and tightening. But drunk Tyson - the whole band - feels like the default state. Ryan pets his hair, and Tyson purrs. "Come on, pumpkin. Talk dirty to me."
"'m not. No!" Ryan laughs and Tyson rolls his eyes.
"Fine," he says, sighing heavily like Ryan just told him he wouldn't feed him soup while he was sick. "But, come on," Tyson picks the hem of Ryan's shirt. "He's good, right? I mean, he's all energetic."
Ryan swats Ty's hand away. "Jesus, Ritter. Yes, okay? It's. He's good."
Tyson snuggles closer, like Ryan is telling a bedtime story. "Mm," he smiles. His hand comes up and touches Ryan's shoulder. "And you're his height too- maybe a little taller, yeah?" Ryan sighs, nodding, and Tyson grins. "So how about that couch scenario?"
Ryan isn't going to say anything, especially because the couch on the AAR bus is eerily similar to the couch on the bus across the parking lot where, yes, Pete had fucked him about two hours earlier. But Tyson isn't being creepy about it; he's actually interested. Like he's asking Ryan about his hobbies. Ryan chuffs a laugh at the thought. "Do you really want to talk about this in the living room?" he grins down.
"Well, I don't care," Ty says and ruffles Ryan's hair. "But we can go hide in my bunk and do each other's hair if you want."
Ryan blushes, shaking his head and dislodging Tyson's hand. "That's okay. I don't mind."
"Good," Tyson says. He maneuvers his long limbs, twisting and sitting up so he and Ryan are facing each other, Tyson's legs sprawled out on either side of Ryan. It's nice- surprisingly asexual.
"So." Ryan says. "Yeah. He, ah. Didn't really want to wait."
Tyson's smile is contagious, and Ryan's lips twitch as he continues. "Besides, sex in the bunk is a little. Constricting?"
Tyson nods. "Pete seems like a guy who needs a little room."
"Something like that," Ryan mumbles at his hands.
"So, you get on the bus and..." Tyson leans in, waits.
"We usually," Ryan starts and clears his throat. "I mean, Pete likes it when I blow him first, so. Just cause after," Ryan pulls a face and Tyson pats his knee.
"Dude, tell me about it. Lube and head do not mix."
Ryan gives a little nervous laugh, just because he hadn't known that was something that bothered other people, too. "Then. We, you know. And that's about it -- what?"
Tyson's got a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking. Ryan hits him, and Tyson lets loose a guffaw. "Okay, Ross, repeat after me: ASS FUCKING."
"Fuck. You." Ryan says pointedly.
"Close! Half a word right!" Tyson's arm is around his neck again, tugging him forward, and Ryan struggles out of his grip and swats his arm again.
"We aren't all sex crazed pervs like you, Ritter," he notes.
Tyson sighs. "Fine, but man, you are a repressed fucker." Ryan's face gets stony and Tyson backpedals. "Not that you're. Fuck, Ry. You're young and hot and fucking Pete fucking Wentz! Don't you want to tell someone about it?"
Ryan stops whatever he'd been meaning to say. Tyson looks genuinely wary, and it catches him off-guard. He thinks about Spencer, who gets awkward when Ryan comes back from these trips; Brent, who couldn't understand even before he was mostly gone, and Brendon, who's totally different and even worse. He does, he thinks. "Maybe," he says, looking away.
Tyson leans back against the couch cushions. "So talk." When Ryan sits quietly for a few more moments, Tyson shifts a little closer and leans in. He speaks quietly, almost conspiratorially. "Okay, I'll start. My favorite thing about sex on the bus is that when Nick is forced to be quiet during sex, he totally makes up for it in other areas. Like, when we first start a tour? I know I'm going to be out of commission for a week. The couch is better than the bunks mainly because I have less chance of getting a concussion from the fucking. Your turn!"
Ryan stares at him. This was possibly more than he wanted to know. But mostly it’s fun. There's something exhilarating about it- talking about sex like this, in the living room of the bus. Sex with a guy, and the scene isn't homophobic, so much as quiet. Ryan's voice hesitates as he says, "I kind of like the bunk better. I like being- close. Just physically. With the contact. It makes me feel like, I don't know. Like it's special."
Tyson nods. "I get that. I mean, Nick and I are on top of each all the time. You and Pete have to work at being close, right?" Ryan hasn't really thought of it that way, but it makes sense. Tyson presses a little closer, his leg swung companionably over Ryan's. "So you guys like it better face to face? I mean, he's tiny enough to get away with some of that shit in the bunks. Nick and I, well. I mean, there is a reason my boyfriend took up yoga and it wasn’t for the good of his chi, or whatever."
Ryan laughs. "Yeah, I mean. Pete likes it better the other way, but I like..." he trails off and Tyson pinches his arm.
"Ross, spill it."
"Kissing, okay? I like kissing." Ryan's cheeks burn and Tyson leans over and plants a smacking kiss on one of them. He scrubs his cheek with the back of his palm, as if to rub away the imprint of Tyson's closed lips or maybe his own flush.
"Kissing's awesome," Tyson says.
Ryan looks at him through his bangs. "Shut up, liar."
Tyson holds up his hands. "Never!" he smiles, shaking out his hair. "Seriously- you've never been in the back lounge on our day off. I once paid Gaylor and Kadaver three hundred bucks to let us have it to spoon up back there and neck." Ryan bursts out laughing. "What, it was hot!" Tyson protests.
"Neck?" Ryan giggles. "Who says that?"
"Fuck off," Tyson pokes at him.
"I like it," Ryan grins. "Makes me think of cars with the windows fogged up."
"Yeah, totally," Ty agrees. "That’s the best part. Nothing like being on the edge for, like, an hour. Just kissing and hands sliding under your clothes. Though half the time I get impatient and just rip Nick's pants off."
Ryan flushes. He's always thought that was weird- something only his (limited) girlfriends would like.
"What's the matter, cupcake?" Tyson tilts his head, touching Ryan's shoulder. "We're not gonna have to go over anatomy, right?"
Ryan shrugs him off. "Fuck. No. I." He bites his bottom lip. "Pete's got a lot to do, you know?"
"What's that got..." Tyson starts and then "oh." And Ryan turns away a little, stomach tightening. Maybe Pete did like making out, he thinks. Maybe he just didn't like making out with Ryan. They'd never talked about it. "No, hey," Ty tugs Ryan back. "If he's got enough time to fuck you, he's got enough time to make out, Ry. If that’s what you want."
Tyson's eyes are kind and concerned; Ryan can tell he's sobered up by now. "I don't know," he says, voice low, unable to express himself. "I like the sex. It's really, really good. I want it." He bites his bottom lip, an annoying habit Spencer's been teasing him over forever.
"I'm not saying he's being an asshole on purpose, but I've met the dude, remember? He's just."
"Pete?" Ryan adds wryly.
"Yeah," Tyson brushes a piece of hair behind Ryan's ear. "You gotta tell him if you want," Tyson starts and Ryan shakes his head vehemently.
"I can't, Ty. It's not. I mean, we aren't dating, okay?" Tyson looks at him hard and Ryan sighs. "It is what it is, you know?"
Tyson squints at him. "Hey," he murmurs. Ryan doesn't know what to do with the look he's being given.
"What?" Ryan looks down.
"You know you don't," Tyson starts, and then just sighs and pulls Ryan into a loose hug. "I think we got off topic," he says, clearly trying to cleanse the air of whatever is hanging there now. Ryan worries that it feels a little like pity. "Sex! And since you suck at sharing, I will just interview you, like we're on the porno version of MTV." Ryan laughs against Tyson's shoulder. "Sex in public places-- yes or no?"
Ryan thinks about it. "And buses don't count?" Tyson shakes his head. "Yes," Ryan says after another moment's reflection. "But only if it's, like, somewhere cool. The beach, maybe."
Tyson pulls a face, grimacing. "Trust me- it's not that great. Sand," he mouths, shifting as if shaking it off his skin. "We've got ourselves a beach, in Florida. And. Just. Not fun."
"Really?" Ryan sits up a little and looks at Ty. "I mean, I guess it makes sense, but,"
"No, really. Sand is, like, the anti-lube." Ryan grimaces and Tyson nods vigorously. "Yeah. You know where is good though? Ferris wheels."
Ryan's eyebrows shoot up. "When did you fuck on a ferris wheel?" he asks skeptically.
"Not fuck, but fooled around. Back home, at the county fair. They had a pretty big one, and Nick and I had only been going out for a few months. We were stuck at the top for a minute and I just slipped my hand into his jeans."
Ryan gapes. "You did not."
Tyson laughs, eyes wicked. "I swear! He was holding onto the side of the car with one hand, gripping a big, fucking stupid stuffed dog he won throwing baseballs at milk crates with the other. Fucking pretty as hell, too, with the lights from the metal skeleton glowing. Ask him about it, someday."
Ryan's pretty sure he won't, but he nods anyway. The mental picture of Tyson jacking Nick off forty feet above the ground, quietly so the people of the car in front won't turn around... Ryan shakes his head and wonders if he'll ever be able to have a conversation with Ty that doesn't end in him blushing.
"Has anyone ever, you know. Caught you?" Ryan asks and Tyson laughs loudly.
"Oh, man. You mean other than Mike and Chris and Shabba and John and my cousin and Mike's girlfriend and Nick's mom that one time?" Ryan laughs loudly. Tyson grins. "The first time, we were pretty freaked. And I still think Nick's blocked that bit about his mom way out of his mind. But," he stretches his arms over his head, cocking a grin. "When the god of looove hits you," he winks.
Ryan rolls his eyes, but Tyson slings his arm over Ryan, seemingly unconcerned. "Best time ever?" he asks Ryan.
"Pete," Ryan says quickly. He hasn't actually had sex with that many people, and it’s not a hard one to pick out. "The third time." The first, he'd been so nervous, he barely remembered it. The second was fast, pressed against the wall of Ryan's cheap hotel room. The third... "It was at his hotel suite in London, and we had, like, a whole afternoon by ourselves." He could still hear Pete's voice low in his ear, saying ‘God, I thought you'd never get here’ before dragging him naked and panting from the couch to the king size bed to the hot tub.
"Yeah?" Tyson smiles, and Ryan nods. He rubs his thumb over the knuckles of his fingers, bites his bottom lip again- there are two indentations there from his incisors. "We finished the album in, like, six weeks, and he just called and said, 'I miss you. Fucking get over here.'" Ryan flushes. "That's the first time I ever went to England, and I didn't even really see it." He exhales. "My turn.... When did you know, like. When you were a kid?"
"Hmm," Tyson wrinkles his nose in concentration and shifts so that Ryan's head is almost resting on his shoulder. It's new, not being the tallest, and Ryan likes it. "It's one of those things where I guess, yeah, if I'd been paying attention, I would gave gotten it a lot sooner, but I grew up in Oklahoma, sweetheart. So it wasn't until I was in high school that I figured out that getting a boner in the boy’s locker room was pretty fucking queer. I got myself a girlfriend fast after that."
Ryan glances up in question. "Really?"
"Yeah, but that was about six months before I met Nicky, and after that my faux hetero lifestyle was shot all to hell."
"Oh," Ryan says. He doesn't know how to phrase the question he's thinking, saying, "So, Nick -- you and he. I mean, he was your first?"
Tyson nods. "First, last, and only, baby." Ryan doesn't realize he's made a face, but Tyson ruffles his hair, chuckling. "I think it kinda weirds him out, too. The way I see it, I just got luckier at sixteen than most people get ever."
"No, I mean," Ryan is searching for something, but all he can land on is wow. It's just.. "Wow," he says, shaking his head. "And you don't, you know. Miss it?"
"Miss what?" Ty asks. "Miss random hookups in bar bathrooms? Nasty breakups?" He stretches a little and Ryan leans closer, sighing unconsciously when Tyson's fingers brush the hair at his temple. "I think I'm doing okay, don't you?"
Ryan smiles against Tyson's shirt and thinks of the feeling he gets in his stomach whenever he sees Tyson and Nick together, tight and hot. "Yeah," he says softly and doesn't mind it when Tyson kisses the top of his head.
"Ask me one," Ryan says, after a moment. They're just sitting, slumped together, listening to the buzz of the heat and the random bursts of people-noise (shouts, laughter, curses) outside.
"Okay," Tyson murmurs, shifting and stretching. His feet kick at a Coke can on the floor; it rolls under the table with a clanking sound. "Lemme think of a good one." He knits his brows together, as if solving a calculus problem. Ryan bumps his shoulder, feeling himself smile. "Ryan Ross, tell me your dirty little secret." Tyson grins as Ryan moans, grimacing.
"Like anything can beat Gaylor's," Ryan says with an eye roll.
Tyson laughs. "Come on, dude. It's only fair. Everyone on this fucking bus has to have an answer to that question."
Ryan huffs and spends so long thinking that Tyson starts singing the Jeopardy theme song. "Fine, God. I. Whatever," Ryan says, trying to sound nonchalant. "Sometimes I jerk off when I'm on the phone. With people."
"Like phone sex?" Tyson asks, and Ryan shakes his head.
"Like, they don't know."
He's blushing to his toes and he expects Tyson to laugh but he doesn't. He leans in with that same interested grin. "Who?"
Ryan shakes his head. "I - think that's two questions in a row."
Tyson waves his hand unconcernedly, his smile not wavering at all. "Follow-ups are an important component of interview techniques," he says. "Come on -- you wouldn't have told me that if you didn't want me to ask you who." He bats his eyelashes, hand feeling the fabric of Ryan's shirt over his shoulder. "Spill it."
Ryan exhales through his nose, and stares at a fixed spot on the floor. "Pete, sometimes," he mumbles, "when he's not in the mood for phone sex. He is a lot of the time, but he likes to tell me about his day, about the label or his clothing line." Ryan grins, a little. "And he doesn't really mind if all I do is make nodding noises back at him."
"Wentz does love the sound of his own voice," Tyson says and Ryan is startled by the sound of yelling as the bus door swings open.
Nick is smiling. "If that is not the pot calling the kettle black, Ty..."
Tyson grins. "Saved by the bell," he stage whispers and Nick puts his hands on his hips, cocking his head quizzically.
"What are you boys gossiping about?" he drawls and Ryan tucks his head into Tyson's shoulder.
"Noooothing," Ty replies slyly and Nick just shakes his head.
Tyson sits up, shifting Ryan further over as he leans forward. His free hand reaches out, grabbing the air in Nick's direction. "Yeah?" Nick says, but he's smiling; he turns in, planting a kiss on Tyson's mouth. Tyson's lips curl into a grin, and Ryan swears his eyes slide to Ryan as he curls his fingers into the nape of Nick's neck, kissing him deeply. Nick's hand wraps around Tyson's bicep, tongue darting out just a fraction and Ryan burrows a little lower, trying to watch without looking like he's watching.
Tyson makes a little wanting noise in the back of his throat that surprises even himself and Nick pulls back with a little gasp. "Sorry," he says in Ryan's general direction and Ryan just darts his eyes away quickly and shrugs. "The boys are off finding a bar that theoretically serves shots out of high heeled shoes," Nick continues, toeing off his shoes and folding onto the couch on Tyson's other side. Ty's hand is still on his arm.
"Movie?"
*
It occurs to him one day that, other than a few hallway gropes in various venues, Ryan hasn’t seen Pete in nearly a week. He gets a text: "come over b4 soundcheck" while he and Tyson are explaining Firefly to Nick.
He goes, because he's been feeling a little guilty, really, and wants to see Pete. He likes Pete. Mainly. But when he gets to the FOB bus and Pete presses him against the wall and presses a knee, hard, between his thighs, its less fun than it used to be. After a few weeks of Nick and Ty, Ryan has sort of come to expect foreplay.
He sits in their dressing room and watches them hold hands, or Nick kiss Tyson's cheek. Tyson gives Nick neck rubs. Ryan thinks, as Pete's hands shove at his shoulders and he slides to his knees, that he might need one soon.
Ryan really likes giving head. He's good at it, and he really likes things he's good at. But when Pete comes with a stuttered moan and Ryan swallows and Pete leans back and grins down at him with a wink, he feels... kind of wrong. Dirty.
"Go take a nap," Pete murmurs, ruffling his hair. Ryan nods, and thinks maybe he'll get a kiss, an endearment, but Pete's out the door. He goes and curls up in Pete's bunk, closes his eyes. He falls into an uneasy sleep-- the FOB bus smells like Pete, and dirty socks, and soy milk-- and when Pete bangs back onto the bus after the show and slips into the bunk with him, whispering "glad you're still here", Ryan thinks maybe, maybe this time... but Pete's kisses aren't sweet. They're Pete, and they're secondary to his hands which are sliding Ryan's pants down to his thighs.
Ryan doesn't know how to ask for what he wants. He kisses Pete's neck, tries to show him how he wants it - slow, intimate. "Please," and Pete grins, grabs his cock.
Ryan's eyes roll back because, really, he hasn't had sex in a week and he's been living on top of four very sexy guys, but Pete's just not getting it and Ryan groans in frustration. "Yeah, you fucking love it," Pete says low in his ear, and Ryan blushes beet red.
"Pete," he stammers out and Pete's jerking him harder. It's not that he doesn't like it-- raw and primal and sweaty is good-- but he's never really wished for anything underneath it until now.
"No," Ryan whispers, as Pete bites his neck, hard enough to leave a mark. He doesn't think he can breathe; the tiny bunk is suffocating.
Pete nuzzles his neck, curling against him and rocking his erection against Ryan's thigh. "No what, baby?" he murmurs.
"I just - no, okay?" Ryan says, and rolls away.
"Ry," Pete says, confused and little annoyed, and Ryan scrambles over him and falls from the bunk, tugging his pants up and blushing hotly when Andy comes out of the bathroom.
"Sorry, sorry," he mutters and takes off down the corridor. The driver is already there but the doors aren’t closed yet and all he can think of is getting back to the warmth of the AAR bus, curling into Nick's side and not thinking about this.
"Ryan!" Pete calls after him, worried this time, and Ryan takes off down the stairs and around the buses. Tyson is still out signing for fans, by the sound of the screaming girls on the other side of the fence and Ryan thinks "thank god".
The AAR bus is parked closer to the fence than the Fall Out Bus, and for one horrible moment, he thinks he'll have to face all of the fans to get onto it. But he ducks behind the Hawthorne Heights bus and catches his breath before sprinting over unseen. Nick taught him the code to the bus door, but he can't remember whose birthday it is at the moment. He pushes random buttons, and then tries again, and he's so frustrated he could scream when the door swings open. Captain John's staring at him from the top of the steps. "Hey, kid. You okay?"
"Yeah, sorry," and he's a little mortified, because what's he going to say? Sorry, my not-boyfriend wanted to have sex with me and I freaked? But John just looks concerned, not annoyed and says "Come on, come in here before they eat you," he smiles toward the girls at the fence and Ryan climbs the steps gratefully. Nick's on the couch, still damp from a lightening quick shower after the show. When he sees Ryan, he doesn't say anything, just gets up and tugs him into a hug.
Nick's good at hugging -- that's something Tyson taught Ryan early on, and Ryan's never been more thankful of it than now. He folds into Nick, the height difference making it so that he can tuck his head against Nick's shoulder. He's still half-hard, and he's pretty sure he looks about as fucked as he almost was, but he needs something to hold onto really fucking badly right now.
"Hey, hey, you're okay," he says soothingly into Ryan's temple, rubbing circles on Ryan's back and holding him close around his shoulders. Ryan can hear feet shuffling, John and Dave heading to the back lounge to give them some privacy. Ryan just clings to Nick and he's finally calming down a little, hands not shaking anymore.
He hears yells as the door opens and Tyson climbs on. "Hey, they're really cool today," he starts and Nick shakes his head over Ryan's shoulder. Ryan tilts himself closer against Nick as he hears Tyson's voice. He doesn't want to have to explain himself, and he's worried that Tyson will make him - Tyson's blunt where Nick's subtle, and Ryan feels cheap and used and not like talking about it. But Tyson just wraps his arms around Ryan from the other side, and he's surrounded. He likes it.
They eventually steer Ryan to the couch and everyone sort of tiptoes around while Ryan snuffles quietly into Nick's shoulder. Ryan doesn't even realize Mike's there until he kneels next to him and presses a cup of hot tea into his hand. "Lots of honey in it," he smiles softly and squeezes Ryan's knee. Ryan's throat closes up again, just from the small sweet gesture. Tyson's on his other side; Ryan feels like he has double shields from the world. He sips at his tea and tips his head onto Nick's shoulder.
"What the - " Tyson starts, shifting. Ryan looks over, and sees Tyson's phone, lighting up the fabric of his denim. He pulls it out, and looks to Nick. "I'd better take this."
***
"Is he okay?" Pete says, pretty early in the conversation.
Tyson scratches his head. "We've got him," he says, which is his best answer.
"Yeah, okay," Pete replies, audibly relieved.
"What the hell happened, Wentz?" Tyson asks, low enough that no one will hear him up front. Tyson can hear a whooshing noise, and knows from experience that's Pete shutting his bed curtains.
"I don't know, dude," he says, voice low. "I mean, it was all cool, you know? We were just fooling around -- he was totally into it, and then. My hand's on his dick, and he just freaks out."
Tyson flushes a little. It’s not like this is news, it’s just that Ryan is... Ryan. He stopped being the boyslut of Panic to AAR about a week ago and Tyson's not really comfortable with the way Pete's talking about him. "You're sure he was... I mean, it just came out of nowhere?" Tyson sounds skeptical and Pete huffs defensively.
"Completely," Pete says firmly. "At first, I didn't even realize he was telling me he didn't want it - it was totally surreal. Like a pod-Ryan, or something." He gives a short laugh. "And then he bolted. His phone's here - I called it like ten times. I figured, since he's been spending time with you guys, that you might know where he is." Tyson can't read Pete's tone.
He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose and thinks about the look on Nick's face when he came on the bus, how Ryan was still shaking a little when he wrapped an arm around him. "Look, I think. He's a little freaked out right now. I think maybe we should hold onto him for the night, figure this out in the morning."
Pete sighs like a man being asked to make a sacrifice for the cause, and Tyson wants to deck him. "Fine, just tell him we have his shit, and I'm not mad, okay?"
"I'll make sure he knows," Tyson says. There's a silence on the line, and he adds, "Crazy crowd tonight, yeah?"
Pete laughs, and Tyson can hear as he slides into the smooth-talking dude Tyson met on Warped. "Fucking insane, man. Dirty said nine thousand."
Tyson whistles. "Shit."
"I know, right? A bunch of dirty kids from the Midwest, and we're pulling nine thousand in the Carolinas." Tyson looks up when he hears a laugh from the front of the bus, a good sign but also a reminder that he has better places to be.
"Totally insane, dude," he replies. "I better get going. See you in the next state."
"Cool," Pete clicks his phone closed and Tyson strolls back out.
***
Ryan doesn't even think about it, just shifts closer to Nick when Tyson gets up and slips into the back of the bus. Mike comes and sits in Ty's seat at his back and Chris, Ryan notices, is on the counter by the door, just swinging his feet, eyes darting from Ryan to the door and back. None of them have asked him what happened, and he hopes they don't. It sounds foolish in his head-- it not like he didn't come on tour to sleep with Pete, after all-- but thinking about it, about being in Pete's bunk, just makes his stomach hurt now. He sighs heavily and Mike rubs his back.
“Hey," Chris says, as if casting about for something to break the silence, "ask Mike what some fan threw at him at the show tonight." Nick laughs next to him, and Mike shakes his head.
"What?" Ryan asks, looking to him.
"Nothing," Mike murmurs, flushing, at the same time that Chris crows, "a manthong!"
Ryan giggles. "Seriously?" He knows they're humoring him, but he doesn't feel like he's a burden.
"We are never to speak of it again!" Mike intones, and Chris just wags his eyebrows.
"I bet it was the dude in the chaps who was in line when we got here."
"Stop," Mike groans and covers his ears and Ryan pats his leg.
"Was it a nice manthong?"
Mike looks at him for a second and bursts out laughing. "No, dude, this was. No." he shakes his head emphatically.
Tyson comes out from the lounge with a thin, forced smile. "Everything okay?" Nick asks and Tyson nods a little, scootching onto the sofa between Ryan and Mike and slings an arm around his shoulders.
Ryan holds his cup up for Tyson, wordless. Tyson gives a laughing sigh, shakes his head. "No thanks." Nick's fingers are brushing the back of Ryan's neck, soothing motions over the muscles. He knows that Tyson and Nick are exchanging a fast, sharp dialogue with their eyes over his head; he suspects Mike and Chris might be in on it, too. He doesn't care. He knows they aren't patronizing him, or mocking him. He feels safer here than he has in months, to be honest, and not even that thought can scare him right now.
He's exhausted suddenly, yawning into his cup, and Nick smiles and says "Come on, bedtime," and hauls him to his feet.
Tyson is at his back, hugging him around his waist as they walk to the bunks. "We can't do three to a bunk, so who do you want tonight kiddo? Nick's bendier, but I warn you, he's been known to snore." Ryan blinks back at Ty.
"Just didn't think you'd want to be by yourself, is all," Nick drawls softly and tugs the curtain back on his bunk.
"Thank you," Ryan says - he wouldn't have known how to ask for this, but they seem to take it as a matter of course. He looks between them, tongue-tied.
Tyson laughs, kisses his forehead. "Take Nick," he murmurs, ruffling Ryan's hair. He lowers his voice to a whisper. "He's the best cuddler in the world." Ryan laughs a little.
Nick shakes his head in an aww-shucks sort of way and Tyson kisses him softly before taking Ryan's cup and heading back to the kitchenette. Ryan can hear a little talking past the curtain, low enough that he can't make it out, but Nick is handing him a pair of worn track pants and a Bon Jovi t-shirt. "Change and in," he orders and Ryan slips into the bathroom and changes quickly. He tries not to see where his face is blotchy from crying or the red patch on his neck where Pete's teeth had scraped less than gently. He rinses his mouth and thinks again that he would do best to have a toothbrush on this bus and comes out to find Nick in his PJs, already tucked in his bunk. "In, Ross." he holds out his hand and Ryan slips into the bunk and burrows against him shamelessly.
"Thanks," Ryan says, as Nick folds himself around Ryan. There's not much room in the bunk, but Ryan likes it that way, likes the way he can curl in against Nick's chest without any expectations.
"Hey, no problem," Nick whispers with a smile and folds his arm over Ryan's back, lets Ryan's head rest on his chest. "You know, you don't have to tell me what happened, but I'm here if you need to talk, okay?" Ryan swallows hard and nods, clutching a little at Nick's shirt.
He takes a deep breath, but doesn't say anything. Nick makes small circles on the small of Ryan's back. His breath feathers Ryan's hair. "I thought you were going to say that." Ryan smiles at that and burrows a little closer. Nick lets their ankles tangle together and Ryan sighs. "Tomorrow, we're doing pancakes, I think," Nick yawns and Ryan's eyes flutter closed. He's bone tired, all the adrenaline from the evening ebbing away.
"Thank you," he says quietly, most of the words muffled by Nick's shirt.
"Hey, don't thank me - Kadaver's the pancake man."
Ryan laughs. It's a struggle to get his mouth to form words, but he tries his hardest, mumbles, "I meant, not - "
"I know what you meant," Nick says, and Ryan smiles. "Sleep, kiddo."
***
The next thing Ryan knows, he's waking up to the sound of Chris cursing as he slides out of his bunk and steps on an errant shoe. He's still wrapped almost entirely into Nick and there is a little glow in the bunk. He blinks up to see Nick reading a mystery novel by itty-bitty-book-light.
"Hey," Nick murmurs, looking down. His face opens into a smile. "How'd you sleep?"
Ryan stretches his legs out until his toes hit the wall; he has the courtesy to turn his head as he yawns. "Good, thanks."
"Did the light wake you?" he asks with a frown. "Tyson sleeps like the dead, so this is usually,"
"No," Ryan smiles. Chris thumps into through the tiny hallway and squishes past Dave, whose hand flails into Mike's bunk and makes him jump in surprise, kicking the bunk next to him. Being Nick's. Ryan juts a thumb toward the noise and Nick just laughs.
"I have no idea how any band ever gets any sleep ever," he says.
"Earplugs," comes Chris's voice from right outside the curtain. He sticks his head in and grins. "Mornin'." Chris has the sort of smile that's contagious; Ryan finds himself grinning back.
"Pancakes?" Nick says, resting his book on his chest, next to Ryan's shoulder.
"Kadaver's doing his thing out there. I'm staying out of the way of his spatula -- "
"Chris eats the batter," Nick cuts in.
Ryan wrinkles his nose. There's raw egg in there. Chris just flicks Nick's shin with his finger and says "come on, early bird gets one that’s not shaped like a penis!" and slips back out. Ryan laughs out loud.
"That's what I like to hear!" Tyson booms outside.
A second later the bunk is full of Tyson, long limbs and dark hair trying to push themselves inside regardless of the lack of space. Ryan finds himself sandwiched between them-- it should be uncomfortable, but its not.
"Jesus Christ," Nick moans as Tyson squirms on top of them; Ryan gets an elbow in his side and yelps. "Ty, get the - " Tyson's nosing his face against Nick's neck, and Nick has to stop to laugh, pushing at him. "Ugh, there's no way you've brushed your teeth this morning."
Tyson pulls back, affronted. "I taste like sunshine and puppies, Wheeler. The masses would love to give me a kiss." He turns his head, catching Ryan in a chaste kiss.
Ryan blushes faintly but smiles up at him. "Mornin' sunshine," Tyson grins and turns back to Nick. "See?" Nick rolls his eyes but lets Tyson lean and kiss him, less chaste this time, but tender. It's a stand-alone kiss, one that means just enough by itself, and isn't leading to more. Ryan turns away, blinks at the curtain. He feels a little like he's intruding.
Nick makes a soft sound when the kiss ends. Ryan hears the whispered brush of Tyson's lips on Nick's cheek. "We're scarring the wee one," Tyson stage whispers, and Ryan shoves him with his shoulder, laughing.
"Then get the hell out, dork," Nick stage whispers back.
"Okay, up, up!" Tyson slithers back out of the bunk, Ryan's wrist in his hand, and tugs until Ryan's sliding out too, shivering as his bare feet hit the cool of the thin carpet. "There are pancakes to the fore and bathrooms to the aft," he says. "Pick your poison." Ryan picks bathroom first and Tyson nods. "Wise choice. Though you will be left with the pancakes shaped like Shabba’s ball sac. Kadaver makes those from memory."
"HEY!" comes a yell from the front, followed by a shoe. Ryan hides in the bathroom, grinning, until the scuffling dies down.