Careful {TABLE 44}
Summary: AUish, they're younger { table}
Disclaimer: I own them; I'm also a flying nargle.
It’s summer and summer is Brendon’s favorite. He once met a girl named Summer and had deemed her his best friend. It lasted a week, until he realized that Summer was just her name and that she wasn’t as great as the season.
Ryan is his best friend now.
Ryan has other friends. He has girl friends; two words, girls that he’s friends with.
Brendon only has Ryan. He and Ryan are going to be rock stars together. Brendon just knows it.
Ryan takes care of Brendon. He reminds him to buckle up, tie his shoes when they’re undone, and ignore the mean kids at school. He keeps Brendon from getting hurt. Ryan knows people are mean and could hurt Brendon. He can’t let Brendon get hurt. He won’t. He has to be careful.
Brendon has been sitting against the wall beside Ryan, humming to himself while Ryan toys with the blue and pink eyeliner he’d stolen. He has a mirror propped up on his knees and is sitting very still, so as not to jostle it. Brendon is captivated by the tranquil concentration on Ryan’s face.
“Ry, Ry, Ry, Ryan!” Brendon sits up to face his best friend.
“Yes, Bren?” Ryan answers quietly, drawing a small bird on the bridge of his own nose. Brendon doesn’t say anything because he’s captivated again, but Ryan knows what he wants. “I’ll do you next,” he assures. Brendon, satisfied with the answer, sits back and resumes his humming.
Ryan says a few minutes later, “Stop bouncing, Bren.” Brendon hadn’t realized he had been. He makes a conscious effort not to move. It’s hard for him. Then, he begins to wonder what the eyeliner pen feels like. Is it soft? Will it hurt his eyes? Ryan can do it, then so can he . . . right?
“Ready?” Ryan is looking at Brendon expectantly, pink eyeliner in hand. Brendon nods carefully & focuses more on not moving as Ryan scoots closer & leans over the darker haired boy. If Brendon was captivated by Ryan earlier, you should see him now. Brendon’s fidgeting and he doesn’t know it, but Ryan does. He’s trying to be patient and work around the squirming boy. It’s not working. “Lie down,” he orders.
“Wh- What?”
Ryan says it slower, “Lie down,” but still firmly.
Brendon really can’t comprehend what Ryan is getting at, “Why?”
“You’re fidgeting and if I stop, you’ll just complain, so lie down.” Oh! Brendon feels stupid for thinking Ryan was going to . . . do something. Else.
“Okay,” Brendon murmurs, red-faced as he lies back. Ryan, deadpan, straddled Brendon. He straddled Brendon.
“It’s the only way to get you still,” Ryan clarifies. Brendon nods as if he understands - Ryan’s probably right anyway - but he’s mentally freaking the fuck out. Ryan bends over and - Oh, hell; Brendon feels him do so. Brendon really wants to do something, anything but, right now, he’s just trying to focus on not moving while Ryan doodles across his face. “Quit opening your mouth.” Brendon does but he really feels like he has to say something before Ryan notices.
The amount of concentration on Ryan’s face makes Brendon think hope that he won’t. Ryan shifts his hips a bit, biting his lip as he draws a stick tree sprouting from Brendon’s eye.
"Bren," Ryan snaps. "Quit squirming!" he whisper yells.
"I can't," Brendon hisses back, glaring with disdain, even if he doesn't really hate Ryan. He, kind of, does right now.
This is one of those times where Brendon has to be careful without Ryan’s help. He has to be careful and think only about baseball and his mom’s great aunt Gertrude. That’s all he has to do; not notice the gorgeous boy with perfect hips and perfect everything straddling him. That’s all.
“Brendon,” Ryan whines, and Ryan never whines, so he’s clearly annoyed.
“Ryan, I can’t,” Brendon huffs.
“Why not?” Ryan whines again, sitting up. Oh, hell. Brendon’s eyes widen with the newfound friction. Ryan frowns, “What the hell is-“ he’d moved again. “Oh,” and now his cheeks were redder than the pink eyeliner tracing them. Brendon threw his arms over his face just to hide. He really, really, really just wanted to disappear right now. This is worse than seventh grade when Travis McCoy had stolen his clothes from the locker room. Ryan bent over Brendon again, the eyeliner discarded on the floor beside him, “Bren.”
Brendon grumbled, “No.”
Ryan couldn’t hold back a small smile. “Move your arm,” he nudged. Brendon shook his head, only it didn’t really work because of his arms & all. “Please?” Brendon shook his head again.
Ryan huffed and slowly laced one of his hands with one of Brendon’s while the other toyed with the hem of Brendon’s too small tee. “Please, Bren,” Ryan breathed, getting as close as he could with Brendon’s skinny arms in the way. He tugged the hand he held away and nudged the other with his nose. Brendon couldn’t help it; he giggled, causing Ryan to smile triumphantly and that be the first thing Brendon saw when he pulled his arm away.
“What?” Brendon asked, faking annoyance. Psh, as if Ryan could annoy Brendon.
“Are you done hiding?” he asked amusedly. Brendon pretended to ponder a moment before nodding. “Good,” Ryan bit his lip, leaning a bit closer. “Then, I can do this,” he murmured. And in the next second Ryan’s lips were on Brendon’s, hands in his hair as Brendon wrapped his legs around Ryan’s waist, only pulling him closer.
They pull apart to catch their breath and Ryan mumbles, “Damn it,” as he opens his eyes.
Brendon’s suddenly hesitant and cautious again, “What?”
“I messed up your makeup,” Ryan groaned.
Disclaimer: I own them; I'm also a flying nargle.
It’s summer and summer is Brendon’s favorite. He once met a girl named Summer and had deemed her his best friend. It lasted a week, until he realized that Summer was just her name and that she wasn’t as great as the season.
Ryan is his best friend now.
Ryan has other friends. He has girl friends; two words, girls that he’s friends with.
Brendon only has Ryan. He and Ryan are going to be rock stars together. Brendon just knows it.
Ryan takes care of Brendon. He reminds him to buckle up, tie his shoes when they’re undone, and ignore the mean kids at school. He keeps Brendon from getting hurt. Ryan knows people are mean and could hurt Brendon. He can’t let Brendon get hurt. He won’t. He has to be careful.
Brendon has been sitting against the wall beside Ryan, humming to himself while Ryan toys with the blue and pink eyeliner he’d stolen. He has a mirror propped up on his knees and is sitting very still, so as not to jostle it. Brendon is captivated by the tranquil concentration on Ryan’s face.
“Ry, Ry, Ry, Ryan!” Brendon sits up to face his best friend.
“Yes, Bren?” Ryan answers quietly, drawing a small bird on the bridge of his own nose. Brendon doesn’t say anything because he’s captivated again, but Ryan knows what he wants. “I’ll do you next,” he assures. Brendon, satisfied with the answer, sits back and resumes his humming.
Ryan says a few minutes later, “Stop bouncing, Bren.” Brendon hadn’t realized he had been. He makes a conscious effort not to move. It’s hard for him. Then, he begins to wonder what the eyeliner pen feels like. Is it soft? Will it hurt his eyes? Ryan can do it, then so can he . . . right?
“Ready?” Ryan is looking at Brendon expectantly, pink eyeliner in hand. Brendon nods carefully & focuses more on not moving as Ryan scoots closer & leans over the darker haired boy. If Brendon was captivated by Ryan earlier, you should see him now. Brendon’s fidgeting and he doesn’t know it, but Ryan does. He’s trying to be patient and work around the squirming boy. It’s not working. “Lie down,” he orders.
“Wh- What?”
Ryan says it slower, “Lie down,” but still firmly.
Brendon really can’t comprehend what Ryan is getting at, “Why?”
“You’re fidgeting and if I stop, you’ll just complain, so lie down.” Oh! Brendon feels stupid for thinking Ryan was going to . . . do something. Else.
“Okay,” Brendon murmurs, red-faced as he lies back. Ryan, deadpan, straddled Brendon. He straddled Brendon.
“It’s the only way to get you still,” Ryan clarifies. Brendon nods as if he understands - Ryan’s probably right anyway - but he’s mentally freaking the fuck out. Ryan bends over and - Oh, hell; Brendon feels him do so. Brendon really wants to do something, anything but, right now, he’s just trying to focus on not moving while Ryan doodles across his face. “Quit opening your mouth.” Brendon does but he really feels like he has to say something before Ryan notices.
The amount of concentration on Ryan’s face makes Brendon think hope that he won’t. Ryan shifts his hips a bit, biting his lip as he draws a stick tree sprouting from Brendon’s eye.
"Bren," Ryan snaps. "Quit squirming!" he whisper yells.
"I can't," Brendon hisses back, glaring with disdain, even if he doesn't really hate Ryan. He, kind of, does right now.
This is one of those times where Brendon has to be careful without Ryan’s help. He has to be careful and think only about baseball and his mom’s great aunt Gertrude. That’s all he has to do; not notice the gorgeous boy with perfect hips and perfect everything straddling him. That’s all.
“Brendon,” Ryan whines, and Ryan never whines, so he’s clearly annoyed.
“Ryan, I can’t,” Brendon huffs.
“Why not?” Ryan whines again, sitting up. Oh, hell. Brendon’s eyes widen with the newfound friction. Ryan frowns, “What the hell is-“ he’d moved again. “Oh,” and now his cheeks were redder than the pink eyeliner tracing them. Brendon threw his arms over his face just to hide. He really, really, really just wanted to disappear right now. This is worse than seventh grade when Travis McCoy had stolen his clothes from the locker room. Ryan bent over Brendon again, the eyeliner discarded on the floor beside him, “Bren.”
Brendon grumbled, “No.”
Ryan couldn’t hold back a small smile. “Move your arm,” he nudged. Brendon shook his head, only it didn’t really work because of his arms & all. “Please?” Brendon shook his head again.
Ryan huffed and slowly laced one of his hands with one of Brendon’s while the other toyed with the hem of Brendon’s too small tee. “Please, Bren,” Ryan breathed, getting as close as he could with Brendon’s skinny arms in the way. He tugged the hand he held away and nudged the other with his nose. Brendon couldn’t help it; he giggled, causing Ryan to smile triumphantly and that be the first thing Brendon saw when he pulled his arm away.
“What?” Brendon asked, faking annoyance. Psh, as if Ryan could annoy Brendon.
“Are you done hiding?” he asked amusedly. Brendon pretended to ponder a moment before nodding. “Good,” Ryan bit his lip, leaning a bit closer. “Then, I can do this,” he murmured. And in the next second Ryan’s lips were on Brendon’s, hands in his hair as Brendon wrapped his legs around Ryan’s waist, only pulling him closer.
They pull apart to catch their breath and Ryan mumbles, “Damn it,” as he opens his eyes.
Brendon’s suddenly hesitant and cautious again, “What?”
“I messed up your makeup,” Ryan groaned.