i'll have my cake (and eat it too) :: brendon/ryan :: r
Title: I'll Have My Cake (And Eat It, Too)
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan
Rating: R
Summary: How exactly he ended up being able to hear his friends' thoughts is still a mystery to him.
Disclaimer: Completely fake. I don't own anyone, and all names are used fictitiously.
Notes: So this started out as a way to fulfill my desire for more sex pollen fic in this fandom, but it didn't turn out exactly like I planned. Warnings for complete improbability and general ridiculousness. Dedicated to the awesome fallintosilence on the occasion of her birth. Happy birthday, bb! Beta'd by choclitbunny ♥ :: ~6300 words
Brendon can be very efficient when he wants to be. In the time it usually takes the rest of his band to get dressed before a show, Brendon can have his clothes on, the venue explored, and the free food eaten. He is a master of stealth and time management.
Brendon knows Zack and the rest of the band don't like it when he just eats whatever he happens to come across at the venues. In hindsight, Brendon can see their point, but if he sees beautiful free food lying about, so easy for the taking, Brendon's no idiot. He will take it.
Chocolate cake, Brendon decides, has never tasted so good. There's something special about the cake Brendon finds at ThatOneVenue in Whateverville, Florida. It tastes…different. Sweeter, almost tangy. Brendon has a fleeting moment of consideration on whether or not the cake might be expired, but he shrugs it off in favor of taking another huge bite. If he gets some on his shirt, he has a good excuse. This cake is fucking amazing.
Brendon washes the cake down with water and heads out to meet up with the rest of the guys. The show's going to be awesome tonight.
-
He doesn't notice it at first, when he walks on the stage and meets the deafening applause. He stumbles a bit, but what else is new? Brendon is kind of clumsy. It's only when the show really gets going that Brendon realizes he can't remember what song they just played. The music starts to blend and mesh together to make one long medley. He knows he's supposed to be saying stuff, supposed to be introducing the next song and trying to talk to the fans, but he can barely manage to just play the music on autopilot.
He catches Jon's gaze more than once and he looks confused. Ryan just looks mad, but he gets mad at Brendon a lot anyway. Brendon really isn't in a state of mind right now to figure out exactly what he's done and exactly what's going wrong.
They finish, miraculously, and Brendon's feeling dizzy, too, on top of all the confusion clouding his brain. He wants to be able to think clearly and try to figure out what exactly is wrong, but he's too foggy-brained to even do that.
Backstage, Brendon feels sick with all the faces swimming in his vision. Ryan. Jon, Spencer, Zack, god, fucking everyone is talking to him. Why are they talking to him? Can't they see he's tired? He tells them this. At least he tries to. Brendon doesn't really know what he's managing to accomplish right now. He hears voices, lots of them, all asking him variations of the same thing.
No, he's not okay. He's not o-fucking-kay. That's Gerard's line. Brendon giggles, but he can't hear his usual laugh. He can't hear anything, come to think of it. The faces are all blurring together now and there's nothing left for him to see except black.
-
"Brendon?"
He's sleeping, dammit.
"Brendon?"
Still sleeping. Ryan can be so dense sometimes.
"Brendon!"
If Brendon wakes up at that, it's definitely not because he's scared of Spencer sounding angry at him. Not at all. But why is Spencer angry?
" 'm up," Brendon mumbles. His back is sore, like he slept on the floor instead of his bunk. He feels a little dizzy too, but other than that, he feels fine. It doesn't explain why he opens his eyes to find Spencer, Jon, and Ryan staring at him with such concern.
"What?" he asks Jon, because Ryan's annoying and Spencer is scary.
"You, uh. You passed out after the show last night. And we were all pretty sure you didn't take anything." Huh. Brendon's pretty sure he didn't take anything either. "You were acting really strange, too. You alright, B?"
Brendon looks from Jon to Ryan and Spencer and says, "Yeah, I'm fine. Hungry. I'm hungry, where's food?"
"That's all you think about, I swear. One day, that's gonna do you in," Ryan mutters as he hands Brendon a muffin.
Jon's stepped away now, and so has Ryan, but Spencer keeps looking at Brendon. It makes Brendon's feel guilty somehow, and he looks down. "Maybe you shouldn't drink so much beer on stage anymore. I don't know, you probably drank too much or something."
Now that's bullshit. It's not like Brendon's knocking them back while he performs. He shakes his head and doesn't bother responding. The muffin he's eating is too good to think about anything else. Nothing, nothing in the whole world, could command his attention away from this muffin right now.
"I need to get fucking laid."
Well, maybe that. "What?" Brendon turns to stare at Jon but Jon just blinks at him.
"I didn't say anything."
Brendon wrinkles his nose in confusion. "Oh. I thought you just said - . Never mind." He finishes his muffin and leaves to the bunks. He really could use a few more hours of sleep.
-
The next show runs much more smoothly. Brendon gets dressed in record time, like usual, but he stays lying down on the couch instead of wandering around the venue. He still feels a bit tired. When they make it on stage, everything goes normally, until Ryan walks over to him. He's not looking at Ryan's face, too concentrated on singing the song and moving his fingers over the neck of his guitar, but he wishes he got a look at Ryan when he positively growls in Brendon's ear, "God, I could fuck a sheep right now, I'm so horny."
Brendon registers the words a bit after Ryan says them, and he whips around to stare at him while Ryan walks back to his part of the stage. Brendon feels puzzled and slightly angry. What if the fans heard that? He was right next to Brendon's mic. Ryan should be more careful. Brendon's going to tell him this later.
-
Later doesn't happen because Brendon forgets. Someone distracts him with donuts after the show's over and Brendon falls asleep early that night, stomach too full to be comfortable sitting up awake with everyone else.
-
He wakes up early the next day and shit, he thinks. They have an interview today.
It's a really informal interview; it's at the venue, and everyone's standing instead of sitting. Brendon smiles to himself as he looks around at his band. They even stand close to each other. Spencer's cocked hip is almost touching Brendon's, and Jon and Ryan look joined at the shoulder. It's awesome.
The interviewer comes up to them and smiles. She's quite pretty with thick red hair and tight dress pulling snugly over her curvy figure. She turns around for a minute to grab a bottle of water and Brendon hears Spencer crack his knuckles. "Holy shit, I could fuck that bitch into next week."
Brendon chokes on the spit he was trying to swallow and stares incredulously at Spencer. Spencer seems completely non-pulsed and Brendon thinks that's quite rude. She's standing right there, how did she not hear that? She's probably just being polite and ignoring him. Spencer just stares at him back, though, and Brendon tries to shake it off. He needs to have a talk with his band about inappropriate statements at inopportune times. And people think he's the immature one.
-
The interview is a boring repetition of every other interview they've ever done, but Brendon's pretty sure he never had to hear a running commentary coming from his band about how hot the interviewer is. At least not during the interview. Their words are muttered, whispered, quiet enough so that no one loses their concentration completely, but come on. She's right there! She's right there, and why is she just ignoring that? If Brendon was a gorgeous woman with huge breasts interviewing a few guys, he thinks he'd have a problem hearing things like, "yeah, lick your lips," or "fuck, I should just pop that button myself, it's dying to open up," or "those legs would feel so good wrapped around me. God, I want to fuck you," during questions about music.
Brendon tries to catch everyone's eye and send off some kind of shut up signal, but every time he looks over at one of them, the interviewer starts talking to him, and he has to save face here. He can't be impolite too, and not at least look at her when he answers her questions, even though he's dying to catch one of the guys about to say something else so he can stop them subtly.
The interview finishes and then she's off. Brendon's assaulted with a litany of, "oh my god, that ass," and various other statements when he whips around to stare very pointedly at everyone. Even Spencer. Brendon means serious business, here.
Ryan rolls his eyes. "What, Brendon? You were being weird today. You hardly talked." Brendon's jaw falls open. "You could have at least elaborated on your answers a bit. You left us all to do it."
Brendon wants to punch him. "Elaborate? So if I mentioned how much I wanted to rub my dick between her tits, would that count as elaborating?"
Jon chuckles and squeezes Brendon's shoulder. "Whoa boy, take it easy. She'd probably cut you with one of her two inch nails if she caught you saying that."
Brendon is so, so confused.
-
It occurs to him a few days later that something is wrong. He's watching Wild Things with Jon but not paying much attention. He means to be looking over past Jon to read the time on the little clock they have, but he hears Jon, he hears him say, "I would give up my firstborn to spend the night with those sluts." Brendon is freaking out here, because he just heard Jon say that - which, gross, Brendon does not agree, they practically give his eyes STDs just by looking at them - but Jon's mouth didn't move. At all.
Jon notices Brendon's staring and looks back calmly. Like nothing strange just happened. Like he didn’t just manage to speak without opening his mouth. "How, um. Jon, how did you do that?"
Jon yawns and blinks at Brendon. He turns back to the movie. "Do what?"
Brendon feels like panicking here. He's hearing voices, in his head, and they sound like his friends, and why is this happening? Brendon tries one more time, "You spoke, you just said. You just said that thing. About, uh." Jon lifts an eyebrow to show he's listening. Brendon deflates and says in a small voice, "you really didn't just say anything?"
"You alright, Brendon?" Jon sounds only mildly concerned and Brendon gets up off the couch as fast as he can. He heads for the bunks, bumping wildly into things in his haste to get out. He rushes to his bunk and slides the curtain closed. At least he's alone here. Spencer and Ryan are in the back lounge and Brendon just needs to think for a bit.
He ends up closing his eyes and drifting into an uneasy sleep.
-
At first, Brendon doesn't know what wakes him up. He blinks, bleary eyed and still half asleep, and he tries to just close his eyes again and dose off.
"Uh, fuck yeah, just fucking take it."
Brendon's eyes fly open. That is Ryan's voice. Ryan's very loud voice. There's no way no one else is awake and hearing this. Unless.
Unless Brendon is crazy and can now suddenly hear his band mates' thoughts. What ever happened to normality?
Brendon tries to connect the pieces. If he can hear Ryan's thoughts - Ryan's dirty thoughts - then he must be jerking off. Ryan's always been a pretty quite person, as long as Brendon's known him. And whenever he jerks off, it's nearly silent; anyone would have to really strain themselves to hear it. Ryan's just talented like that.
Brendon closes his eyes and tries to think past the running commentary in Ryan's head to hear the slight rustle of a hand under a blanket, the slight change of breathing from a sleeping person to someone who is very much awake.
Brendon opens his eyes again and tries not to think about how he's hearing Ryan's fantasies. He sings as many Disney songs as he can. Very loudly, in his head to try and drown out the soft, dirty words and phrases coming from Ryan's mind.
He's not very successful.
There's no blocking it. He'll just have to sit it out and wait until Ryan comes before he can hear only silence and then go to sleep. He spends a few seconds wondering how on earth did this happen to him but is distracted once again by Ryan's thoughts.
"Mmm, fuck. God, yeah, let me fuck that ass. You feel so good."
Brendon feels his cheeks heating up. This is really, really awkward. He does not want to hear this shit coming from Ryan's head, in Ryan's voice. He really doesn't want to. His cock, on the other hand, seems to like it very much. Brendon feels a fleeting sense of deep betrayal but is torn from his mental scolding by the sounds of Ryan's ragged breathing. The sheets rustle more too, and Brendon has to wonder who Ryan is thinking about. He supposedly hasn't been with anyone since he and Keltie broke up, but maybe he's just missing her?
Ryan's breathing gets progressively louder and his thoughts jumble together to form disconnected words and Brendon's not really following. He knows that Ryan is close, so close. Brendon bites his lip and squeezes both of his hands into fists to avoid doing anything that he'd feel so shameful about later, and right before Brendon lets out a big breath, he hears a real moan come from Ryan's bunk. It's small, but it's there, and it's real, not just in Ryan's head. Brendon can tell and it makes it so much hotter. Brendon's not past admitting at this point that he should seek some serious help for this, but when Ryan's done, there's nothing left to hear inside his head but his own thoughts.
He's lulled to sleep by the gentle hum of the bus before he knows it.
-
At breakfast the next day, he can't quite meet Ryan's eyes. He flushes a dark red every time he thinks about what he heard from Ryan's head last night. It was a really intimate thing to intrude upon. Brendon feels so guilty when logically he knows this is something beyond his control. How exactly he ended up being able to hear his friends' thoughts is still a mystery to him. It's not just them; Brendon hears things from anyone who happens to be near him at the time.
And it hasn't failed to occur to Brendon that he only ever hears things from them that are sexual. It's never anything normal, and he doubts that all his band mates think about is sex. No, he's got something that's specifically channeling sexual thoughts. How superbly inconvenient for Brendon and Brendon's overly responsive dick.
It really doesn't help Brendon's cause when he's trying to watch a movie with the guys and he has to listen to one of their zoned out thoughts about a threesome with whoever happens to be on the screen at the moment.
Sometimes, Brendon hears really strange thoughts. He never wanted to know that Jon sometimes wonders what it would be like to dress up in a fur suit and try to get Cassie to go down on him.
He also doesn't need to know that Spencer secretly has a balloon fetish. Seriously, fucking balloons. His friends are so weird.
For the most part, Ryan's thoughts have been pretty vanilla, but that still doesn't mean they aren't awkward. Like the time they were sitting on a bench in some little park before a show, and Brendon sees a pinecone a few feet in front of them. He barely gets up from the bench, just bends over to pick it up, and he nearly topples over in complete shock when he hears Ryan's mind say, "his ass looks so good in those jeans."
Well, that was unexpected. Brendon clutches at the pinecone and sits back down on the bench. His cheeks heat up, and he doesn't meet anyone's gaze for the majority of that night.
-
Brendon finds that if he goes to bed before everyone else, he usually won't wake up when someone starts letting their thoughts run wild. Nothing is worse for Brendon than being woken in the middle of the night by fantasies he shouldn't be hearing. Tonight, it's Ryan, again. Brendon still feels awkward by Ryan's thoughts earlier that day, but Brendon pushes it out of his mind as fast as possible. It's just common knowledge Brendon has a good ass. An ass is an ass. Anyone can appreciate one, so it shouldn’t be weird that Ryan appreciates his. In a sexual way. Brendon needs to stop thinking.
That gets easier the louder Ryan's thoughts get. Tonight, it's nothing specific so far, just words and fragments and a whole lot of tension. Brendon thinks that Ryan sounds a bit louder in reality than he does normally. He's not being as careful with the rustling of his sheets like he normally is. He's even breathing louder. Brendon closes his eyes and concentrates on Ryan's thoughts. It's not like he could just go back to sleep, anyway. Tonight is different, though. Tonight, Brendon can sense something threading itself among Ryan's thoughts. It makes Brendon feel strange. It makes Brendon feel guilty, but this isn’t his own guilt he's feeling this time. Ryan feels guilty.
Brendon catches things like, "please," and "just this once, just one time, god," and Brendon feels resigned because Ryan feels resigned. This is strange. He's never been so in tune with his friends' emotions like he is tonight. Normally he just hears the thoughts; he never bothers to interpret the emotions behind them. Maybe tonight is different because he's paying more attention. Ryan gave him reason to earlier today.
Ryan's thoughts begin to take form and make more sense. "You look so good tonight," Ryan thinks. Brendon wants to know who looks good. "You look so good, god, I want to fuck you. Will you let me, please?"
Even though it's just in Brendon's head, Ryan's voice sounds raw and strained and nothing like Brendon's ever heard him sound like before. Like he's really asking for something secret, for something special. Like whoever it is he's thinking about might tell him no.
They would have to be crazy, Brendon thinks.
"You look so beautiful, gonna fuck you so good." Brendon smiles a little at Ryan's 'sex grammar' as he has gotten used to calling it in his head. It seams the English language takes the back burner to wild passion. Brendon wishes not for the first time that he could see the images that no doubt come with the words, but his strange gift only lets him hear the thoughts. Brendon wants to see who is beautiful. Brendon really wants to see.
Instead he listens for the soft sounds of Ryan's moans inside his head. Ryan's breathing in reality picks up and Brendon knows he's close. Brendon thinks about Ryan's plea, "just this once," and Brendon can't stop the slide of his hand down the front of his bare chest, past the blanket and onto his half-hard cock. Brendon is going to be so quiet, he is. Ryan will never have to know.
Ryan likes to think dirty, and Brendon's rewarded with filthy words and harsh commands. Brendon squeezes his hand tighter and wishes Ryan were whispering everything right into his ear. Brendon tries to imagine hot breath on the side of his neck where Ryan would talk to him if he were here.
"God, fuck yeah, baby, your ass feels so good." Brendon never knew before all this happened how much Ryan liked to think about fucking someone up the ass. It turns Brendon on more than it should. Brendon moves his other hand down his body to palm at his balls while he squeezes and pulls at his dick. He should get an award for how quiet he's being. He gets back to Ryan's thoughts and Brendon wishes yet again he could see what Ryan sees behind his closed eyes.
Ryan's breathing is so loud now it could actually wake someone else up. Brendon hopes to God it doesn't; he doesn’t want this to end early. He wants to catch everything. Ryan moans softly in his bunk, and Brendon catches his desperate, "say my name. Come on, say it. Tell me you love this, that you want this. Tell me how much you want me, god, fuck."
Ryan's positively whimpering now and Brendon's chewing his lip into a complete mess to prevent the pants and moans that are dying to escape his chest. He's close too, and he wants to come with Ryan. It feels so wrong, so much like cheating, but Brendon doesn't care right now.
There's so much noise coming from Ryan's bunk, almost like he's completely shuffling around in there. Brendon gets a fleeting image of Ryan thrusting his hips up into his fist before he bites back his own fantasy to focus on Ryan's. Ryan's talking again, this time much softer, much more raw and much more undone. "Yes, I'm so close. I want to come inside you, will you let me? Want you to remember that there's always a part of me in you." Brendon wants to cry out at this. The idea that Ryan cherishes this is so hot. "Look at me. Just, fuck. Yes." Brendon can hear the elated tone taking over Ryan's words. He's going to come any second now, Brendon just needs to speed his hand up a tiny bit more. "Yes, fuck, come on, come with me. Come on, fuck, Brendon."
Brendon gasps and comes, hand flying lightening fast over his dick, sheets rustling and toes curling and he can't believe it. He can't.
Brendon's vaguely aware of Ryan coming just seconds after him. He hopes Ryan was too distracted to hear Brendon and think anything of it. He hopes he can look Ryan in the eye tomorrow and not push him against a wall and give him everything Ryan wants, everything Brendon's heard spelled out in his mind since Florida.
Florida.
Brendon nearly shoots up in his bunk at the memory. Cake, he remembers cake. And then very shortly after feeling so weird, so out of it. And then next day, he heard the voices. Brendon makes a huge mental note, underlined and circled in red, to look into what the fuck he actually ate in Florida. He goes to sleep with the memory of Ryan's voice tickling the edges of his mind, calming him, saying his name.
-
Brendon doesn't come out of his bunk for a long time after everyone else gathers in the front of the bus. He needs some space to think. He's trying to figure out exactly what went down in Florida, but thoughts, Ryan's thoughts, keep flying through Brendon's head. He can't get the dirty words out of his mind. He can't stop himself from remembering how Ryan was asking for him, wanting him. "I want to come inside you…" The memory makes Brendon shudder.
Had Ryan been thinking about Brendon for a while now? Brendon's never heard a name coming from Ryan's thoughts before; last night was the first time for that. But there have been many instances where Brendon catches Ryan thinking filthy words about fucking someone's ass. Has it been Brendon's this whole time?
He feels his body heat up at the thought. Maybe Ryan really wants him. The idea turns Brendon on so much, he forgets completely about Florida and stays in the bunks an extra long time to jerk off.
-
When he finally manages to roll out of bed, Brendon doesn't say much to anyone. He avoids talking to Ryan the most. He feels simultaneously so exhilarated and so guilty at knowing Ryan's thoughts that he can't bring himself to even look at him. Ryan notices, though, and corners Brendon about it when they get off the bus and head for the venue.
"You avoiding me or something, Urie?" Brendon blushes and ducks his head and dammit, why can't Ryan just leave him alone?
"No. I, uh. I'm not avoiding you, that's stupid." With that, Brendon pushes past Ryan and goes to ask one of the venue staff where he can find a laptop.
-
Google is the most overrated thing on the planet. Brendon's tried about a million different combinations of 'poisoned cake' and 'sexual ESP' that he can think of, and he's still got nothing.
One site looks promising, but it turns out to be the biggest mistake ever. He doesn't need the venue people to check the records of this computer and find the animal porn that popped up unexpectedly. Now that shit is just wrong.
He's about to give up when the last result on the fifty-seventh page catches his eye. The website is plain and full of recipes for things that Brendon's never heard of before. Scrolling down the page, Brendon comes across instructions for making something called Suvokimas. It's hard to understand what exactly the instructions for making this stuff are saying since the grammar is so bad. Brendon thinks this whole website and everything on it is obviously foreign.
He feels a sense of delight at what he's found. The directions are strange, the ingredients even stranger, but Brendon catches one line that makes his heart beat faster and something like relief spread through his body. "Hiding in a dessert, the recipe will be most undetectable". There's more about what kinds of food hold the recipe, whatever it is, best. His heart leaps when he finally reads, "it will get you more intimate thoughts of the people."
Brendon rereads everything to make sure he understands it all properly. So some stupid cake made with this freaky recipe can make Brendon hear all the shit that's been assaulting his mind since he ate it? Brendon thinks it's all so fucked up, and what are the odds that something like that can actually happen, but he gets over it quickly in favor of searching for some kind of counter-recipe. He doesn’t have much time before the show, and Brendon's sick of feeling awkward around his friends. Brendon's sick of feeling awkward around Ryan.
His gut clenches at that and he keeps on reading.
-
The show goes as well as it can with Brendon so distracted by everything he just learned. There is a counter-recipe, but it involves some very strange ingredients Brendon has no idea where to find. This is the last week of touring before their break. He can hold out until then, and then figure out what the hell he's going to do.
-
Figuring out what the hell he's going to do involves making a phone call.
Brendon bypasses meeting his family right away when the tour finishes. He buys a plane ticket to LA instead and he waits in the airport for someone to pick up the phone.
"Hello?" Yes, finally, Brendon thinks.
"Hi, Andy? Hey, it's Brendon." He doesn't talk to Andy that much, but Brendon figures he will have the best understanding of what the hell is in the recipe that Brendon needs to find. Andy's interesting like that.
"Hi Brendon." Brendon can tell Andy sounds a bit confused. It is rather out of the blue to be calling him.
"Hi, hey, uh. I have a problem. Can I come see you?"
-
It turns out that Andy's actually heard of whatever this Suvokimas stuff is Brendon accidentally ate. And good thing, too, since Brendon was not very confident with his back up plan of, "Hey I thought we could make some brownies, do you know where the fuck I can find this stuff?"
Brendon's sitting in Andy's living room and waiting for the other man to come back with some books. He returns and puts them on the coffee table, opening and flipping the pages to land on one that says Perception across the top.
"Perception?" Brendon asks.
"Suvokimas is Lithuanian for perception. It's this really ancient recipe that can give you some freaky abilities."
"Yeah, I realized." Brendon still hasn't managed to wrap his brain around the fact that stuff like this can really happen. For now, he's concentrating hard on learning how to reverse it.
"So we can fix this. It's not gonna be easy getting the ingredients, but you can buy anything on the internet these days, so. We'll fix this."
Brendon feels so happy he could kiss Andy right now. But he'd rather not make things awkward. It's not like there has been a shortage of that in his life these days. "How do you know all this stuff? You're incredible." Brendon is in awe, really.
Andy shrugs. "I read."
Ryan reads. And Brendon does, sometimes. He's never read about something like this before, though.
Andy says, "I'll turn on my computer." Brendon beams.
-
Brendon can tell that Ryan is put out with him. The last week of tour, he barely talked to Ryan, and then he just left Ryan and Spencer to come to LA instead. He can understand the series of angry text messages he reads once he wakes up a week after tour ended. It took a while for the ingredients to make it to Andy's house, even on rush delivery and all the extra charges he made.
Once they arrive, he and Andy get to work on actually making the stuff, which smells like shit and tastes even worse. Brendon is more prepared for an adverse reaction to the recipe the second time around. He doesn't do anything after eating it. But it still doesn't stop his head from spinning and his concentration from clouding.
The next day when he finally wakes up, he asks Andy to channel his inner sexy. Brendon doesn't hear any of it. He smiles and heads to the guest room to check his phone.
And read all the angry messages from Ryan. Ryan is angry and confused. It makes Brendon's chest ache to know he caused it, but he had no choice. If he didn’t try to stop this stupid thing, he would never be able to look Ryan in the eye. He would keep hearing Ryan's thoughts and always wonder if Ryan might act on them or what they mean.
Ryan felt guilty that night. Brendon knows this because he felt it too. Ryan didn't really mean to be thinking about Brendon. He doesn't really want him. It was a one time thing, "just this once," and it's never something Ryan's going to think about again.
It still doesn't stop the idea from hurting Brendon.
He sighs and sits on the bed. He calls Ryan. Ryan picks up.
-
He's agreed to leave the next day and drive all the way back to Vegas and say hi to his parents before meeting Ryan and Spencer for sandwiches. Brendon thanks Andy and heads out early, the sun just barely kissing the sky. The road is clear, and Brendon loves driving when he can't see the next car in front of him.
After a quick meet up with his family, Brendon starts to feel nervous at the prospect of seeing Ryan again. On the phone, Brendon explained that they needed to talk. Ryan seemed to agree and now Brendon's questioning why he didn't just let this whole thing blow over. It's not like he's going to be hearing Ryan's thoughts anymore. It's not like Brendon hasn't convinced himself that what he heard that night wasn't indicative of how Ryan really felt about Brendon. It was a slip up, it happens.
Maybe Brendon's slipped up about Ryan for longer than he wants to admit. Maybe he's nervous because he wishes he could be that someone for Ryan and Ryan can be that for him. If Ryan just wants sex, Brendon can do that. He can. He won't let himself get all attached like he maybe wants to be. The question is: how does he tell Ryan?
Brendon sighs. Either way, Brendon's big mouth made it clear that they are going to talk. Brendon might grow some balls by then to actually say something.
-
Brendon meets the guys for sandwiches and it all goes well, if Brendon ignores the part where he tripped on his way through the door of the restaurant and nearly landed on his face. Brendon refuses to see that as a terrible omen of the doom that is to come. He is an optimistic person, dammit.
He's not too hungry, only barely picking at his sub, but Spencer doesn't make him feel like a bad friend for ditching them the last week. He fills the silence with useless chatter about his recent traumatizing experiences with the dog grooming shop around the corner from the restaurant. But Brendon's thankful for it, because Ryan's as quiet as Brendon today, and the last thing Brendon needs is awkward silence.
Afterwards, Spencer says he has "some other arrangement," involving strawberries, tequila, and a large stuffed pony. He grins suggestively, and Brendon feels a powerful rush of thankfulness that he can't hear exactly what's going through Spencer's mind right now. He walks out of the restaurant, taking his car and leaving Ryan and Brendon to themselves. They walk in silence back to Brendon's car. Brendon digs his hands into his jean pockets. They barely fit inside, but he can feel a hole forming, probably from one too many washings.
Ryan kicks at the dirt in front of them and Brendon chances a glance over. Ryan looks nervous. But why would he be? It's not like he knows what Brendon knows. Brendon swallows and speaks first. "So. Do you want to head back to my place? Shane texted me earlier; he's with Regan today."
Ryan sniffs and looks at him briefly. "Yeah, yeah. That works."
"Okay."
They get in the car and drive in silence. Brendon's head is about to explode.
It fees like they make it to the apartment in record time. Brendon might have been driving a little fast. Once inside, Brendon panics over what he should do first, what he's going to say. Ryan saves him the trouble.
"Look, Bren, I don't really get what I did. Since the end of tour, you've been avoiding me or something, and I don't know. Why?" Ryan sounds sad.
Brendon looks at him, leaning against the wall by the television, hands stuffed into the pockets of his spectacularly ugly pants, button up shirt a complete clash with the floral scarf he has wrapped around his neck. He randomly reminds Brendon of Mr. Rogers, and he's never wanted to kiss Ryan more.
Brendon feels the breath blow out of him. He doesn't know what to say. He has been avoiding Ryan, but would Ryan even believe him if Brendon told him why? "Ryan, I. You didn't do anything, no."
Ryan raises an eyebrow, chews on his bottom lip.
"You just." Brendon deflates and turns around, back to Ryan, facing his little kitchen. He stares at the dishes lined up by the sink, some of them almost molding from how long they've been sitting there. He says in a small voice, "I don't even think you know what you do to me."
He hears Ryan shuffle behind him and take a few steps closer. Never close enough, Brendon thinks. "What do you mean?"
Brendon's had it. He's had it with pretending, he's had it with trying to save face, and he's had it with trying not to let his stupid inconveniences mess up the band. He wants to be honest, he wants to just come clean and not have Ryan hate him for it. He turns around, and whoa, Ryan's a lot closer than he thought. Brendon takes a breath and pushes forward, closing the distance and sealing his lips over Ryan's.
For a second, Brendon's mind comes up with every curse word, every possible insult, every demeaning remark and echoes it all loudly inside Brendon's head before he pushes all those thoughts aside and focuses on Ryan. Ryan startles and his mouth stiffens. Brendon feels this because he's very pointedly channeling every ounce of concentration in his body to note the way Ryan's reacting right now. It takes a few seconds, a few long and horrible seconds, but Ryan begins to loosen up. Ryan starts to kiss him back.
Brendon could cry with glee right now. Instead, he moves his arms, clutching the back of Ryan's shirt in one hand and winding the fingers of the other through Ryan's soft hair. Ryan moves, backing Brendon into the nearest wall and placing both his hands on either side of Brendon's head. Brendon feels trapped by it. He wants Ryan to throw away the key and never let him out.
It's a few more seconds of sliding their mouths together before Brendon feels Ryan's tongue sliding wetly across his bottom lip. Brendon opens up on a moan, and Ryan pushes his tongue inside, licking everywhere in Brendon's mouth. Brendon pushes his tongue back against Ryan's and sighs into their kiss. He could do this forever.
They don't stop kissing until Brendon feels Ryan smile against his mouth and his long fingers sliding down the sides of his chest, stopping briefly at his hips before moving back slowly to rest on his ass. Ryan squeezes. Brendon gives a knowing little chuckle before pushing Ryan off him and towards his room. Ryan can have him just like Brendon knows he wants him.
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan
Rating: R
Summary: How exactly he ended up being able to hear his friends' thoughts is still a mystery to him.
Disclaimer: Completely fake. I don't own anyone, and all names are used fictitiously.
Notes: So this started out as a way to fulfill my desire for more sex pollen fic in this fandom, but it didn't turn out exactly like I planned. Warnings for complete improbability and general ridiculousness. Dedicated to the awesome fallintosilence on the occasion of her birth. Happy birthday, bb! Beta'd by choclitbunny ♥ :: ~6300 words
Brendon can be very efficient when he wants to be. In the time it usually takes the rest of his band to get dressed before a show, Brendon can have his clothes on, the venue explored, and the free food eaten. He is a master of stealth and time management.
Brendon knows Zack and the rest of the band don't like it when he just eats whatever he happens to come across at the venues. In hindsight, Brendon can see their point, but if he sees beautiful free food lying about, so easy for the taking, Brendon's no idiot. He will take it.
Chocolate cake, Brendon decides, has never tasted so good. There's something special about the cake Brendon finds at ThatOneVenue in Whateverville, Florida. It tastes…different. Sweeter, almost tangy. Brendon has a fleeting moment of consideration on whether or not the cake might be expired, but he shrugs it off in favor of taking another huge bite. If he gets some on his shirt, he has a good excuse. This cake is fucking amazing.
Brendon washes the cake down with water and heads out to meet up with the rest of the guys. The show's going to be awesome tonight.
-
He doesn't notice it at first, when he walks on the stage and meets the deafening applause. He stumbles a bit, but what else is new? Brendon is kind of clumsy. It's only when the show really gets going that Brendon realizes he can't remember what song they just played. The music starts to blend and mesh together to make one long medley. He knows he's supposed to be saying stuff, supposed to be introducing the next song and trying to talk to the fans, but he can barely manage to just play the music on autopilot.
He catches Jon's gaze more than once and he looks confused. Ryan just looks mad, but he gets mad at Brendon a lot anyway. Brendon really isn't in a state of mind right now to figure out exactly what he's done and exactly what's going wrong.
They finish, miraculously, and Brendon's feeling dizzy, too, on top of all the confusion clouding his brain. He wants to be able to think clearly and try to figure out what exactly is wrong, but he's too foggy-brained to even do that.
Backstage, Brendon feels sick with all the faces swimming in his vision. Ryan. Jon, Spencer, Zack, god, fucking everyone is talking to him. Why are they talking to him? Can't they see he's tired? He tells them this. At least he tries to. Brendon doesn't really know what he's managing to accomplish right now. He hears voices, lots of them, all asking him variations of the same thing.
No, he's not okay. He's not o-fucking-kay. That's Gerard's line. Brendon giggles, but he can't hear his usual laugh. He can't hear anything, come to think of it. The faces are all blurring together now and there's nothing left for him to see except black.
-
"Brendon?"
He's sleeping, dammit.
"Brendon?"
Still sleeping. Ryan can be so dense sometimes.
"Brendon!"
If Brendon wakes up at that, it's definitely not because he's scared of Spencer sounding angry at him. Not at all. But why is Spencer angry?
" 'm up," Brendon mumbles. His back is sore, like he slept on the floor instead of his bunk. He feels a little dizzy too, but other than that, he feels fine. It doesn't explain why he opens his eyes to find Spencer, Jon, and Ryan staring at him with such concern.
"What?" he asks Jon, because Ryan's annoying and Spencer is scary.
"You, uh. You passed out after the show last night. And we were all pretty sure you didn't take anything." Huh. Brendon's pretty sure he didn't take anything either. "You were acting really strange, too. You alright, B?"
Brendon looks from Jon to Ryan and Spencer and says, "Yeah, I'm fine. Hungry. I'm hungry, where's food?"
"That's all you think about, I swear. One day, that's gonna do you in," Ryan mutters as he hands Brendon a muffin.
Jon's stepped away now, and so has Ryan, but Spencer keeps looking at Brendon. It makes Brendon's feel guilty somehow, and he looks down. "Maybe you shouldn't drink so much beer on stage anymore. I don't know, you probably drank too much or something."
Now that's bullshit. It's not like Brendon's knocking them back while he performs. He shakes his head and doesn't bother responding. The muffin he's eating is too good to think about anything else. Nothing, nothing in the whole world, could command his attention away from this muffin right now.
"I need to get fucking laid."
Well, maybe that. "What?" Brendon turns to stare at Jon but Jon just blinks at him.
"I didn't say anything."
Brendon wrinkles his nose in confusion. "Oh. I thought you just said - . Never mind." He finishes his muffin and leaves to the bunks. He really could use a few more hours of sleep.
-
The next show runs much more smoothly. Brendon gets dressed in record time, like usual, but he stays lying down on the couch instead of wandering around the venue. He still feels a bit tired. When they make it on stage, everything goes normally, until Ryan walks over to him. He's not looking at Ryan's face, too concentrated on singing the song and moving his fingers over the neck of his guitar, but he wishes he got a look at Ryan when he positively growls in Brendon's ear, "God, I could fuck a sheep right now, I'm so horny."
Brendon registers the words a bit after Ryan says them, and he whips around to stare at him while Ryan walks back to his part of the stage. Brendon feels puzzled and slightly angry. What if the fans heard that? He was right next to Brendon's mic. Ryan should be more careful. Brendon's going to tell him this later.
-
Later doesn't happen because Brendon forgets. Someone distracts him with donuts after the show's over and Brendon falls asleep early that night, stomach too full to be comfortable sitting up awake with everyone else.
-
He wakes up early the next day and shit, he thinks. They have an interview today.
It's a really informal interview; it's at the venue, and everyone's standing instead of sitting. Brendon smiles to himself as he looks around at his band. They even stand close to each other. Spencer's cocked hip is almost touching Brendon's, and Jon and Ryan look joined at the shoulder. It's awesome.
The interviewer comes up to them and smiles. She's quite pretty with thick red hair and tight dress pulling snugly over her curvy figure. She turns around for a minute to grab a bottle of water and Brendon hears Spencer crack his knuckles. "Holy shit, I could fuck that bitch into next week."
Brendon chokes on the spit he was trying to swallow and stares incredulously at Spencer. Spencer seems completely non-pulsed and Brendon thinks that's quite rude. She's standing right there, how did she not hear that? She's probably just being polite and ignoring him. Spencer just stares at him back, though, and Brendon tries to shake it off. He needs to have a talk with his band about inappropriate statements at inopportune times. And people think he's the immature one.
-
The interview is a boring repetition of every other interview they've ever done, but Brendon's pretty sure he never had to hear a running commentary coming from his band about how hot the interviewer is. At least not during the interview. Their words are muttered, whispered, quiet enough so that no one loses their concentration completely, but come on. She's right there! She's right there, and why is she just ignoring that? If Brendon was a gorgeous woman with huge breasts interviewing a few guys, he thinks he'd have a problem hearing things like, "yeah, lick your lips," or "fuck, I should just pop that button myself, it's dying to open up," or "those legs would feel so good wrapped around me. God, I want to fuck you," during questions about music.
Brendon tries to catch everyone's eye and send off some kind of shut up signal, but every time he looks over at one of them, the interviewer starts talking to him, and he has to save face here. He can't be impolite too, and not at least look at her when he answers her questions, even though he's dying to catch one of the guys about to say something else so he can stop them subtly.
The interview finishes and then she's off. Brendon's assaulted with a litany of, "oh my god, that ass," and various other statements when he whips around to stare very pointedly at everyone. Even Spencer. Brendon means serious business, here.
Ryan rolls his eyes. "What, Brendon? You were being weird today. You hardly talked." Brendon's jaw falls open. "You could have at least elaborated on your answers a bit. You left us all to do it."
Brendon wants to punch him. "Elaborate? So if I mentioned how much I wanted to rub my dick between her tits, would that count as elaborating?"
Jon chuckles and squeezes Brendon's shoulder. "Whoa boy, take it easy. She'd probably cut you with one of her two inch nails if she caught you saying that."
Brendon is so, so confused.
-
It occurs to him a few days later that something is wrong. He's watching Wild Things with Jon but not paying much attention. He means to be looking over past Jon to read the time on the little clock they have, but he hears Jon, he hears him say, "I would give up my firstborn to spend the night with those sluts." Brendon is freaking out here, because he just heard Jon say that - which, gross, Brendon does not agree, they practically give his eyes STDs just by looking at them - but Jon's mouth didn't move. At all.
Jon notices Brendon's staring and looks back calmly. Like nothing strange just happened. Like he didn’t just manage to speak without opening his mouth. "How, um. Jon, how did you do that?"
Jon yawns and blinks at Brendon. He turns back to the movie. "Do what?"
Brendon feels like panicking here. He's hearing voices, in his head, and they sound like his friends, and why is this happening? Brendon tries one more time, "You spoke, you just said. You just said that thing. About, uh." Jon lifts an eyebrow to show he's listening. Brendon deflates and says in a small voice, "you really didn't just say anything?"
"You alright, Brendon?" Jon sounds only mildly concerned and Brendon gets up off the couch as fast as he can. He heads for the bunks, bumping wildly into things in his haste to get out. He rushes to his bunk and slides the curtain closed. At least he's alone here. Spencer and Ryan are in the back lounge and Brendon just needs to think for a bit.
He ends up closing his eyes and drifting into an uneasy sleep.
-
At first, Brendon doesn't know what wakes him up. He blinks, bleary eyed and still half asleep, and he tries to just close his eyes again and dose off.
"Uh, fuck yeah, just fucking take it."
Brendon's eyes fly open. That is Ryan's voice. Ryan's very loud voice. There's no way no one else is awake and hearing this. Unless.
Unless Brendon is crazy and can now suddenly hear his band mates' thoughts. What ever happened to normality?
Brendon tries to connect the pieces. If he can hear Ryan's thoughts - Ryan's dirty thoughts - then he must be jerking off. Ryan's always been a pretty quite person, as long as Brendon's known him. And whenever he jerks off, it's nearly silent; anyone would have to really strain themselves to hear it. Ryan's just talented like that.
Brendon closes his eyes and tries to think past the running commentary in Ryan's head to hear the slight rustle of a hand under a blanket, the slight change of breathing from a sleeping person to someone who is very much awake.
Brendon opens his eyes again and tries not to think about how he's hearing Ryan's fantasies. He sings as many Disney songs as he can. Very loudly, in his head to try and drown out the soft, dirty words and phrases coming from Ryan's mind.
He's not very successful.
There's no blocking it. He'll just have to sit it out and wait until Ryan comes before he can hear only silence and then go to sleep. He spends a few seconds wondering how on earth did this happen to him but is distracted once again by Ryan's thoughts.
"Mmm, fuck. God, yeah, let me fuck that ass. You feel so good."
Brendon feels his cheeks heating up. This is really, really awkward. He does not want to hear this shit coming from Ryan's head, in Ryan's voice. He really doesn't want to. His cock, on the other hand, seems to like it very much. Brendon feels a fleeting sense of deep betrayal but is torn from his mental scolding by the sounds of Ryan's ragged breathing. The sheets rustle more too, and Brendon has to wonder who Ryan is thinking about. He supposedly hasn't been with anyone since he and Keltie broke up, but maybe he's just missing her?
Ryan's breathing gets progressively louder and his thoughts jumble together to form disconnected words and Brendon's not really following. He knows that Ryan is close, so close. Brendon bites his lip and squeezes both of his hands into fists to avoid doing anything that he'd feel so shameful about later, and right before Brendon lets out a big breath, he hears a real moan come from Ryan's bunk. It's small, but it's there, and it's real, not just in Ryan's head. Brendon can tell and it makes it so much hotter. Brendon's not past admitting at this point that he should seek some serious help for this, but when Ryan's done, there's nothing left to hear inside his head but his own thoughts.
He's lulled to sleep by the gentle hum of the bus before he knows it.
-
At breakfast the next day, he can't quite meet Ryan's eyes. He flushes a dark red every time he thinks about what he heard from Ryan's head last night. It was a really intimate thing to intrude upon. Brendon feels so guilty when logically he knows this is something beyond his control. How exactly he ended up being able to hear his friends' thoughts is still a mystery to him. It's not just them; Brendon hears things from anyone who happens to be near him at the time.
And it hasn't failed to occur to Brendon that he only ever hears things from them that are sexual. It's never anything normal, and he doubts that all his band mates think about is sex. No, he's got something that's specifically channeling sexual thoughts. How superbly inconvenient for Brendon and Brendon's overly responsive dick.
It really doesn't help Brendon's cause when he's trying to watch a movie with the guys and he has to listen to one of their zoned out thoughts about a threesome with whoever happens to be on the screen at the moment.
Sometimes, Brendon hears really strange thoughts. He never wanted to know that Jon sometimes wonders what it would be like to dress up in a fur suit and try to get Cassie to go down on him.
He also doesn't need to know that Spencer secretly has a balloon fetish. Seriously, fucking balloons. His friends are so weird.
For the most part, Ryan's thoughts have been pretty vanilla, but that still doesn't mean they aren't awkward. Like the time they were sitting on a bench in some little park before a show, and Brendon sees a pinecone a few feet in front of them. He barely gets up from the bench, just bends over to pick it up, and he nearly topples over in complete shock when he hears Ryan's mind say, "his ass looks so good in those jeans."
Well, that was unexpected. Brendon clutches at the pinecone and sits back down on the bench. His cheeks heat up, and he doesn't meet anyone's gaze for the majority of that night.
-
Brendon finds that if he goes to bed before everyone else, he usually won't wake up when someone starts letting their thoughts run wild. Nothing is worse for Brendon than being woken in the middle of the night by fantasies he shouldn't be hearing. Tonight, it's Ryan, again. Brendon still feels awkward by Ryan's thoughts earlier that day, but Brendon pushes it out of his mind as fast as possible. It's just common knowledge Brendon has a good ass. An ass is an ass. Anyone can appreciate one, so it shouldn’t be weird that Ryan appreciates his. In a sexual way. Brendon needs to stop thinking.
That gets easier the louder Ryan's thoughts get. Tonight, it's nothing specific so far, just words and fragments and a whole lot of tension. Brendon thinks that Ryan sounds a bit louder in reality than he does normally. He's not being as careful with the rustling of his sheets like he normally is. He's even breathing louder. Brendon closes his eyes and concentrates on Ryan's thoughts. It's not like he could just go back to sleep, anyway. Tonight is different, though. Tonight, Brendon can sense something threading itself among Ryan's thoughts. It makes Brendon feel strange. It makes Brendon feel guilty, but this isn’t his own guilt he's feeling this time. Ryan feels guilty.
Brendon catches things like, "please," and "just this once, just one time, god," and Brendon feels resigned because Ryan feels resigned. This is strange. He's never been so in tune with his friends' emotions like he is tonight. Normally he just hears the thoughts; he never bothers to interpret the emotions behind them. Maybe tonight is different because he's paying more attention. Ryan gave him reason to earlier today.
Ryan's thoughts begin to take form and make more sense. "You look so good tonight," Ryan thinks. Brendon wants to know who looks good. "You look so good, god, I want to fuck you. Will you let me, please?"
Even though it's just in Brendon's head, Ryan's voice sounds raw and strained and nothing like Brendon's ever heard him sound like before. Like he's really asking for something secret, for something special. Like whoever it is he's thinking about might tell him no.
They would have to be crazy, Brendon thinks.
"You look so beautiful, gonna fuck you so good." Brendon smiles a little at Ryan's 'sex grammar' as he has gotten used to calling it in his head. It seams the English language takes the back burner to wild passion. Brendon wishes not for the first time that he could see the images that no doubt come with the words, but his strange gift only lets him hear the thoughts. Brendon wants to see who is beautiful. Brendon really wants to see.
Instead he listens for the soft sounds of Ryan's moans inside his head. Ryan's breathing in reality picks up and Brendon knows he's close. Brendon thinks about Ryan's plea, "just this once," and Brendon can't stop the slide of his hand down the front of his bare chest, past the blanket and onto his half-hard cock. Brendon is going to be so quiet, he is. Ryan will never have to know.
Ryan likes to think dirty, and Brendon's rewarded with filthy words and harsh commands. Brendon squeezes his hand tighter and wishes Ryan were whispering everything right into his ear. Brendon tries to imagine hot breath on the side of his neck where Ryan would talk to him if he were here.
"God, fuck yeah, baby, your ass feels so good." Brendon never knew before all this happened how much Ryan liked to think about fucking someone up the ass. It turns Brendon on more than it should. Brendon moves his other hand down his body to palm at his balls while he squeezes and pulls at his dick. He should get an award for how quiet he's being. He gets back to Ryan's thoughts and Brendon wishes yet again he could see what Ryan sees behind his closed eyes.
Ryan's breathing is so loud now it could actually wake someone else up. Brendon hopes to God it doesn't; he doesn’t want this to end early. He wants to catch everything. Ryan moans softly in his bunk, and Brendon catches his desperate, "say my name. Come on, say it. Tell me you love this, that you want this. Tell me how much you want me, god, fuck."
Ryan's positively whimpering now and Brendon's chewing his lip into a complete mess to prevent the pants and moans that are dying to escape his chest. He's close too, and he wants to come with Ryan. It feels so wrong, so much like cheating, but Brendon doesn't care right now.
There's so much noise coming from Ryan's bunk, almost like he's completely shuffling around in there. Brendon gets a fleeting image of Ryan thrusting his hips up into his fist before he bites back his own fantasy to focus on Ryan's. Ryan's talking again, this time much softer, much more raw and much more undone. "Yes, I'm so close. I want to come inside you, will you let me? Want you to remember that there's always a part of me in you." Brendon wants to cry out at this. The idea that Ryan cherishes this is so hot. "Look at me. Just, fuck. Yes." Brendon can hear the elated tone taking over Ryan's words. He's going to come any second now, Brendon just needs to speed his hand up a tiny bit more. "Yes, fuck, come on, come with me. Come on, fuck, Brendon."
Brendon gasps and comes, hand flying lightening fast over his dick, sheets rustling and toes curling and he can't believe it. He can't.
Brendon's vaguely aware of Ryan coming just seconds after him. He hopes Ryan was too distracted to hear Brendon and think anything of it. He hopes he can look Ryan in the eye tomorrow and not push him against a wall and give him everything Ryan wants, everything Brendon's heard spelled out in his mind since Florida.
Florida.
Brendon nearly shoots up in his bunk at the memory. Cake, he remembers cake. And then very shortly after feeling so weird, so out of it. And then next day, he heard the voices. Brendon makes a huge mental note, underlined and circled in red, to look into what the fuck he actually ate in Florida. He goes to sleep with the memory of Ryan's voice tickling the edges of his mind, calming him, saying his name.
-
Brendon doesn't come out of his bunk for a long time after everyone else gathers in the front of the bus. He needs some space to think. He's trying to figure out exactly what went down in Florida, but thoughts, Ryan's thoughts, keep flying through Brendon's head. He can't get the dirty words out of his mind. He can't stop himself from remembering how Ryan was asking for him, wanting him. "I want to come inside you…" The memory makes Brendon shudder.
Had Ryan been thinking about Brendon for a while now? Brendon's never heard a name coming from Ryan's thoughts before; last night was the first time for that. But there have been many instances where Brendon catches Ryan thinking filthy words about fucking someone's ass. Has it been Brendon's this whole time?
He feels his body heat up at the thought. Maybe Ryan really wants him. The idea turns Brendon on so much, he forgets completely about Florida and stays in the bunks an extra long time to jerk off.
-
When he finally manages to roll out of bed, Brendon doesn't say much to anyone. He avoids talking to Ryan the most. He feels simultaneously so exhilarated and so guilty at knowing Ryan's thoughts that he can't bring himself to even look at him. Ryan notices, though, and corners Brendon about it when they get off the bus and head for the venue.
"You avoiding me or something, Urie?" Brendon blushes and ducks his head and dammit, why can't Ryan just leave him alone?
"No. I, uh. I'm not avoiding you, that's stupid." With that, Brendon pushes past Ryan and goes to ask one of the venue staff where he can find a laptop.
-
Google is the most overrated thing on the planet. Brendon's tried about a million different combinations of 'poisoned cake' and 'sexual ESP' that he can think of, and he's still got nothing.
One site looks promising, but it turns out to be the biggest mistake ever. He doesn't need the venue people to check the records of this computer and find the animal porn that popped up unexpectedly. Now that shit is just wrong.
He's about to give up when the last result on the fifty-seventh page catches his eye. The website is plain and full of recipes for things that Brendon's never heard of before. Scrolling down the page, Brendon comes across instructions for making something called Suvokimas. It's hard to understand what exactly the instructions for making this stuff are saying since the grammar is so bad. Brendon thinks this whole website and everything on it is obviously foreign.
He feels a sense of delight at what he's found. The directions are strange, the ingredients even stranger, but Brendon catches one line that makes his heart beat faster and something like relief spread through his body. "Hiding in a dessert, the recipe will be most undetectable". There's more about what kinds of food hold the recipe, whatever it is, best. His heart leaps when he finally reads, "it will get you more intimate thoughts of the people."
Brendon rereads everything to make sure he understands it all properly. So some stupid cake made with this freaky recipe can make Brendon hear all the shit that's been assaulting his mind since he ate it? Brendon thinks it's all so fucked up, and what are the odds that something like that can actually happen, but he gets over it quickly in favor of searching for some kind of counter-recipe. He doesn’t have much time before the show, and Brendon's sick of feeling awkward around his friends. Brendon's sick of feeling awkward around Ryan.
His gut clenches at that and he keeps on reading.
-
The show goes as well as it can with Brendon so distracted by everything he just learned. There is a counter-recipe, but it involves some very strange ingredients Brendon has no idea where to find. This is the last week of touring before their break. He can hold out until then, and then figure out what the hell he's going to do.
-
Figuring out what the hell he's going to do involves making a phone call.
Brendon bypasses meeting his family right away when the tour finishes. He buys a plane ticket to LA instead and he waits in the airport for someone to pick up the phone.
"Hello?" Yes, finally, Brendon thinks.
"Hi, Andy? Hey, it's Brendon." He doesn't talk to Andy that much, but Brendon figures he will have the best understanding of what the hell is in the recipe that Brendon needs to find. Andy's interesting like that.
"Hi Brendon." Brendon can tell Andy sounds a bit confused. It is rather out of the blue to be calling him.
"Hi, hey, uh. I have a problem. Can I come see you?"
-
It turns out that Andy's actually heard of whatever this Suvokimas stuff is Brendon accidentally ate. And good thing, too, since Brendon was not very confident with his back up plan of, "Hey I thought we could make some brownies, do you know where the fuck I can find this stuff?"
Brendon's sitting in Andy's living room and waiting for the other man to come back with some books. He returns and puts them on the coffee table, opening and flipping the pages to land on one that says Perception across the top.
"Perception?" Brendon asks.
"Suvokimas is Lithuanian for perception. It's this really ancient recipe that can give you some freaky abilities."
"Yeah, I realized." Brendon still hasn't managed to wrap his brain around the fact that stuff like this can really happen. For now, he's concentrating hard on learning how to reverse it.
"So we can fix this. It's not gonna be easy getting the ingredients, but you can buy anything on the internet these days, so. We'll fix this."
Brendon feels so happy he could kiss Andy right now. But he'd rather not make things awkward. It's not like there has been a shortage of that in his life these days. "How do you know all this stuff? You're incredible." Brendon is in awe, really.
Andy shrugs. "I read."
Ryan reads. And Brendon does, sometimes. He's never read about something like this before, though.
Andy says, "I'll turn on my computer." Brendon beams.
-
Brendon can tell that Ryan is put out with him. The last week of tour, he barely talked to Ryan, and then he just left Ryan and Spencer to come to LA instead. He can understand the series of angry text messages he reads once he wakes up a week after tour ended. It took a while for the ingredients to make it to Andy's house, even on rush delivery and all the extra charges he made.
Once they arrive, he and Andy get to work on actually making the stuff, which smells like shit and tastes even worse. Brendon is more prepared for an adverse reaction to the recipe the second time around. He doesn't do anything after eating it. But it still doesn't stop his head from spinning and his concentration from clouding.
The next day when he finally wakes up, he asks Andy to channel his inner sexy. Brendon doesn't hear any of it. He smiles and heads to the guest room to check his phone.
And read all the angry messages from Ryan. Ryan is angry and confused. It makes Brendon's chest ache to know he caused it, but he had no choice. If he didn’t try to stop this stupid thing, he would never be able to look Ryan in the eye. He would keep hearing Ryan's thoughts and always wonder if Ryan might act on them or what they mean.
Ryan felt guilty that night. Brendon knows this because he felt it too. Ryan didn't really mean to be thinking about Brendon. He doesn't really want him. It was a one time thing, "just this once," and it's never something Ryan's going to think about again.
It still doesn't stop the idea from hurting Brendon.
He sighs and sits on the bed. He calls Ryan. Ryan picks up.
-
He's agreed to leave the next day and drive all the way back to Vegas and say hi to his parents before meeting Ryan and Spencer for sandwiches. Brendon thanks Andy and heads out early, the sun just barely kissing the sky. The road is clear, and Brendon loves driving when he can't see the next car in front of him.
After a quick meet up with his family, Brendon starts to feel nervous at the prospect of seeing Ryan again. On the phone, Brendon explained that they needed to talk. Ryan seemed to agree and now Brendon's questioning why he didn't just let this whole thing blow over. It's not like he's going to be hearing Ryan's thoughts anymore. It's not like Brendon hasn't convinced himself that what he heard that night wasn't indicative of how Ryan really felt about Brendon. It was a slip up, it happens.
Maybe Brendon's slipped up about Ryan for longer than he wants to admit. Maybe he's nervous because he wishes he could be that someone for Ryan and Ryan can be that for him. If Ryan just wants sex, Brendon can do that. He can. He won't let himself get all attached like he maybe wants to be. The question is: how does he tell Ryan?
Brendon sighs. Either way, Brendon's big mouth made it clear that they are going to talk. Brendon might grow some balls by then to actually say something.
-
Brendon meets the guys for sandwiches and it all goes well, if Brendon ignores the part where he tripped on his way through the door of the restaurant and nearly landed on his face. Brendon refuses to see that as a terrible omen of the doom that is to come. He is an optimistic person, dammit.
He's not too hungry, only barely picking at his sub, but Spencer doesn't make him feel like a bad friend for ditching them the last week. He fills the silence with useless chatter about his recent traumatizing experiences with the dog grooming shop around the corner from the restaurant. But Brendon's thankful for it, because Ryan's as quiet as Brendon today, and the last thing Brendon needs is awkward silence.
Afterwards, Spencer says he has "some other arrangement," involving strawberries, tequila, and a large stuffed pony. He grins suggestively, and Brendon feels a powerful rush of thankfulness that he can't hear exactly what's going through Spencer's mind right now. He walks out of the restaurant, taking his car and leaving Ryan and Brendon to themselves. They walk in silence back to Brendon's car. Brendon digs his hands into his jean pockets. They barely fit inside, but he can feel a hole forming, probably from one too many washings.
Ryan kicks at the dirt in front of them and Brendon chances a glance over. Ryan looks nervous. But why would he be? It's not like he knows what Brendon knows. Brendon swallows and speaks first. "So. Do you want to head back to my place? Shane texted me earlier; he's with Regan today."
Ryan sniffs and looks at him briefly. "Yeah, yeah. That works."
"Okay."
They get in the car and drive in silence. Brendon's head is about to explode.
It fees like they make it to the apartment in record time. Brendon might have been driving a little fast. Once inside, Brendon panics over what he should do first, what he's going to say. Ryan saves him the trouble.
"Look, Bren, I don't really get what I did. Since the end of tour, you've been avoiding me or something, and I don't know. Why?" Ryan sounds sad.
Brendon looks at him, leaning against the wall by the television, hands stuffed into the pockets of his spectacularly ugly pants, button up shirt a complete clash with the floral scarf he has wrapped around his neck. He randomly reminds Brendon of Mr. Rogers, and he's never wanted to kiss Ryan more.
Brendon feels the breath blow out of him. He doesn't know what to say. He has been avoiding Ryan, but would Ryan even believe him if Brendon told him why? "Ryan, I. You didn't do anything, no."
Ryan raises an eyebrow, chews on his bottom lip.
"You just." Brendon deflates and turns around, back to Ryan, facing his little kitchen. He stares at the dishes lined up by the sink, some of them almost molding from how long they've been sitting there. He says in a small voice, "I don't even think you know what you do to me."
He hears Ryan shuffle behind him and take a few steps closer. Never close enough, Brendon thinks. "What do you mean?"
Brendon's had it. He's had it with pretending, he's had it with trying to save face, and he's had it with trying not to let his stupid inconveniences mess up the band. He wants to be honest, he wants to just come clean and not have Ryan hate him for it. He turns around, and whoa, Ryan's a lot closer than he thought. Brendon takes a breath and pushes forward, closing the distance and sealing his lips over Ryan's.
For a second, Brendon's mind comes up with every curse word, every possible insult, every demeaning remark and echoes it all loudly inside Brendon's head before he pushes all those thoughts aside and focuses on Ryan. Ryan startles and his mouth stiffens. Brendon feels this because he's very pointedly channeling every ounce of concentration in his body to note the way Ryan's reacting right now. It takes a few seconds, a few long and horrible seconds, but Ryan begins to loosen up. Ryan starts to kiss him back.
Brendon could cry with glee right now. Instead, he moves his arms, clutching the back of Ryan's shirt in one hand and winding the fingers of the other through Ryan's soft hair. Ryan moves, backing Brendon into the nearest wall and placing both his hands on either side of Brendon's head. Brendon feels trapped by it. He wants Ryan to throw away the key and never let him out.
It's a few more seconds of sliding their mouths together before Brendon feels Ryan's tongue sliding wetly across his bottom lip. Brendon opens up on a moan, and Ryan pushes his tongue inside, licking everywhere in Brendon's mouth. Brendon pushes his tongue back against Ryan's and sighs into their kiss. He could do this forever.
They don't stop kissing until Brendon feels Ryan smile against his mouth and his long fingers sliding down the sides of his chest, stopping briefly at his hips before moving back slowly to rest on his ass. Ryan squeezes. Brendon gives a knowing little chuckle before pushing Ryan off him and towards his room. Ryan can have him just like Brendon knows he wants him.