In parentheses
Title: In parentheses
Author: alles_luege
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan
Rating: PG -13
Summary: Another pointless fic about boys falling in love and hookers.
“I didn’t pay,” Brendon answers. There is icing on his lower lip and it is distracting Ryan, his eyes darting ever so often to it.
“Then it doesn’t count as fucking a hooker,” Ryan manages to say.
Warning(s): kissing
Author’s Notes: Baby Panic.
Word Count: 1.061
Beta: tygermine
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, not real.
She is standing in the middle of the crappy apartment. The first thing he notices is the bruise on her knee.
And that she’s naked.
He doesn’t like the bruise, it’s too close for comfort.
Her breasts are kinda big, also her toenails are painted black and green.
She’s not his type.
That much is sure. She is putting (boy’s) jeans (with buttons) on when he makes some noise and she turns around.
“Hi,” she says, and her breasts are staring at him, and they look really nice so…up close.
”Hi…” he answers and she smiles.
“So, you’re?”
”Ryan.” He says. She extents her hand (there are three crimson butterflies on her wrist, he finds it disturbing and cool at the same time and he is sure it must have hurt like a bitch).
For a moment he thinks she might be a whore (what with the lack of shame - she is naked from the waist up and the buttons aren’t buttoned up, she doesn’t wear panties.) But she has this nice smile and really, would Brendon invite a whore home? (Maybe, it’s Brendon and well, it’s Brendon, he might not even know. Ryan wants to sigh.)
”Nice to meet you, I’m Cindy.”
“So…is Brendon here?” he asks, because the apartment isn’t that big and he can’t hear the shower running, which doesn’t actually mean Brendon is not there. (He could be doing weird Brendon stuff…)
“Gone for coffee and donuts or something with a lot of sugar,” she answers laughing. “Hey, can you hand me my bra?”
He looks around and picks it up from the ground beside him. “Thanks. I really can’t go out without one…” she says absentminded while putting it on in this totally complicated way where you close it in the front and then turn it around. But not wearing any panties, he thinks. Girls.
She’s putting her shirt on when Brendon enters the room.
“Ryan!” He says smiling wide. “I have coffee.”
Ryan really wants to bitch him out, because hello?!!! Naked Girl.
“Great.” He says instead.
~+~
“I know exactly what’s going on,” Ryan says after Cindy leaves with a cup of coffee and a kiss to Brendon’s cheek. (He might be a bit jealous.) Brendon makes a questioning ‘hmmm’ noise (his mouth is full of donut mush). He looks ridiculous, Ryan thinks. He doesn’t roll his eyes at Brendon, which totally counts as good behaviour.
“You’re living alone and now you want to do all the things you couldn’t do when you were with your parents. I get that, but this girl…”
“Cindy?!
“Yeah, Cindy. She is totally a hooker, right?”
Brendon laughs. “Dude, she’s not.”
“She is.”
“She’s not…and even if she is, we’re in Vegas.” Brendon thinks that covers anything. He always uses it when he can’t really explain why he’s done something stupid.
“We’re always in Vegas,” Ryan scoffs.
“Whatever…”
“You can’t just go out and do things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” Ryan says.
“Oh, really? I’m on my own now and I do what I want and if I want to fuck a whore on a Saturday morning then I’m doing just that.” Brendon says and Ryan is surprised at the words, because god! Brendon has a filthy mouth. (And maybe he is just a bit turned on by this or Cindy…her breasts weren’t that bad and her bruise on the knee…)
“You don’t have the money for it,” Ryan says.
“I didn’t pay,” Brendon answers. There is icing on his lower lip and it is distracting Ryan, his eyes darting ever so often to it.
“Then it doesn’t count as fucking a hooker,” Ryan manages to say. “You have icing on your lip,” he adds, because it is distracting. Brendon fucking licks at his lip. Ryan hates him now, because he wishes he could do that.
“It totally does, because she still sleeps with men for money.” Brendon says, firmly. Ryan ponders this. Could it be that Brendon is right?
“Still, you can’t just do that…I was…she was naked in the middle of the room on a Saturday morning. You can’t do that to people.”
“Ryan Ross, you are so strange. Other boys would jump at this opportunity. Naked Girl.” Ryan can totally hear the capitals in this. Ryan doesn’t answer. “Or is it that you don’t like to see girls naked?” Brendon teases.
“I’ve seen enough girls naked, thank you very much.” They’re in Vegas after all. And he’s seen his fair share of dancers.
“So…you were just disappointed that I wasn’t there too?”
“Yeah…” Ryan answers. Wait! No, that totally wasn’t what he meant.
“Ryan Ross…” Brendon says and his voice has this SOUND. This fucking…It makes Ryan want things. Like kiss Brendon, lick his throat, push him down on the mattress and get him naked.
“It’s not what….” he tries.
“Shut up.” Brendon says firm and leans forward. Ryan panics for a few - eternal- seconds, because OH GOD. And then Brendon’s lips are on his and he can taste icing, it feels soft and warm and good. Okay, he thinks, he can go with that.
~+~
Months later, when Ryan wakes up one morning: his hotel bed rumpled with stains on the sheets from last night’s activities. And he was drunk, because hey they have a gold record and that needed to be celebrated. He can remember everything clear and bright, he aches in a good way and his skin feels sore where Brendon sucked too hard. The light is shining too bright into his eyes, because someone didn’t close the curtains shut and he really will never drink again. He just turns around, his hand nudges something warm and he smiles. Brendon makes some noise, content like a cat and burrows deeper into Ryan’s side.
The gold record reflects the morning sun. (There is a crack at the corner where Brendon let it drop last night and a heart across it Brendon draw with pink lipstick to make up for it.) Ryan smiles again, as if he would actually care about that thing at a moment like this. (Or ever.)
~end~
Author: alles_luege
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan
Rating: PG -13
Summary: Another pointless fic about boys falling in love and hookers.
“I didn’t pay,” Brendon answers. There is icing on his lower lip and it is distracting Ryan, his eyes darting ever so often to it.
“Then it doesn’t count as fucking a hooker,” Ryan manages to say.
Warning(s): kissing
Author’s Notes: Baby Panic.
Word Count: 1.061
Beta: tygermine
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, not real.
She is standing in the middle of the crappy apartment. The first thing he notices is the bruise on her knee.
And that she’s naked.
He doesn’t like the bruise, it’s too close for comfort.
Her breasts are kinda big, also her toenails are painted black and green.
She’s not his type.
That much is sure. She is putting (boy’s) jeans (with buttons) on when he makes some noise and she turns around.
“Hi,” she says, and her breasts are staring at him, and they look really nice so…up close.
”Hi…” he answers and she smiles.
“So, you’re?”
”Ryan.” He says. She extents her hand (there are three crimson butterflies on her wrist, he finds it disturbing and cool at the same time and he is sure it must have hurt like a bitch).
For a moment he thinks she might be a whore (what with the lack of shame - she is naked from the waist up and the buttons aren’t buttoned up, she doesn’t wear panties.) But she has this nice smile and really, would Brendon invite a whore home? (Maybe, it’s Brendon and well, it’s Brendon, he might not even know. Ryan wants to sigh.)
”Nice to meet you, I’m Cindy.”
“So…is Brendon here?” he asks, because the apartment isn’t that big and he can’t hear the shower running, which doesn’t actually mean Brendon is not there. (He could be doing weird Brendon stuff…)
“Gone for coffee and donuts or something with a lot of sugar,” she answers laughing. “Hey, can you hand me my bra?”
He looks around and picks it up from the ground beside him. “Thanks. I really can’t go out without one…” she says absentminded while putting it on in this totally complicated way where you close it in the front and then turn it around. But not wearing any panties, he thinks. Girls.
She’s putting her shirt on when Brendon enters the room.
“Ryan!” He says smiling wide. “I have coffee.”
Ryan really wants to bitch him out, because hello?!!! Naked Girl.
“Great.” He says instead.
~+~
“I know exactly what’s going on,” Ryan says after Cindy leaves with a cup of coffee and a kiss to Brendon’s cheek. (He might be a bit jealous.) Brendon makes a questioning ‘hmmm’ noise (his mouth is full of donut mush). He looks ridiculous, Ryan thinks. He doesn’t roll his eyes at Brendon, which totally counts as good behaviour.
“You’re living alone and now you want to do all the things you couldn’t do when you were with your parents. I get that, but this girl…”
“Cindy?!
“Yeah, Cindy. She is totally a hooker, right?”
Brendon laughs. “Dude, she’s not.”
“She is.”
“She’s not…and even if she is, we’re in Vegas.” Brendon thinks that covers anything. He always uses it when he can’t really explain why he’s done something stupid.
“We’re always in Vegas,” Ryan scoffs.
“Whatever…”
“You can’t just go out and do things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” Ryan says.
“Oh, really? I’m on my own now and I do what I want and if I want to fuck a whore on a Saturday morning then I’m doing just that.” Brendon says and Ryan is surprised at the words, because god! Brendon has a filthy mouth. (And maybe he is just a bit turned on by this or Cindy…her breasts weren’t that bad and her bruise on the knee…)
“You don’t have the money for it,” Ryan says.
“I didn’t pay,” Brendon answers. There is icing on his lower lip and it is distracting Ryan, his eyes darting ever so often to it.
“Then it doesn’t count as fucking a hooker,” Ryan manages to say. “You have icing on your lip,” he adds, because it is distracting. Brendon fucking licks at his lip. Ryan hates him now, because he wishes he could do that.
“It totally does, because she still sleeps with men for money.” Brendon says, firmly. Ryan ponders this. Could it be that Brendon is right?
“Still, you can’t just do that…I was…she was naked in the middle of the room on a Saturday morning. You can’t do that to people.”
“Ryan Ross, you are so strange. Other boys would jump at this opportunity. Naked Girl.” Ryan can totally hear the capitals in this. Ryan doesn’t answer. “Or is it that you don’t like to see girls naked?” Brendon teases.
“I’ve seen enough girls naked, thank you very much.” They’re in Vegas after all. And he’s seen his fair share of dancers.
“So…you were just disappointed that I wasn’t there too?”
“Yeah…” Ryan answers. Wait! No, that totally wasn’t what he meant.
“Ryan Ross…” Brendon says and his voice has this SOUND. This fucking…It makes Ryan want things. Like kiss Brendon, lick his throat, push him down on the mattress and get him naked.
“It’s not what….” he tries.
“Shut up.” Brendon says firm and leans forward. Ryan panics for a few - eternal- seconds, because OH GOD. And then Brendon’s lips are on his and he can taste icing, it feels soft and warm and good. Okay, he thinks, he can go with that.
~+~
Months later, when Ryan wakes up one morning: his hotel bed rumpled with stains on the sheets from last night’s activities. And he was drunk, because hey they have a gold record and that needed to be celebrated. He can remember everything clear and bright, he aches in a good way and his skin feels sore where Brendon sucked too hard. The light is shining too bright into his eyes, because someone didn’t close the curtains shut and he really will never drink again. He just turns around, his hand nudges something warm and he smiles. Brendon makes some noise, content like a cat and burrows deeper into Ryan’s side.
The gold record reflects the morning sun. (There is a crack at the corner where Brendon let it drop last night and a heart across it Brendon draw with pink lipstick to make up for it.) Ryan smiles again, as if he would actually care about that thing at a moment like this. (Or ever.)
~end~