a white sport coat (and a skinny black tie) [jon/ryan]
a white sport coat (and a skinny black tie)
1660 words // pg // jon/ryan
[Prompt: written for 2009 no_tags round 1 prompt of jon/ryan and costumes.]
[Recipient: turps33]
[A/N: totally not what i went in expecting to write, lol.]
[Beta: cloudlessclimes]
*
"Right now," Jon muttered, "Spencer is somewhere laughing his ass off."
He shifts a little on the pedestal and gets a disgruntled huff of air that's a little too close to his crotch for comfort. Ryan looks up from his book, long legs sprawled across half the couch and says, "That'd be--hey, what's today?"
"The 10th."
Ryan's face goes a little blank at Jon's answer, eyes losing focus as he thinks. It's ridiculously similar enough to how he looks when he's stoned that Jon wonders if he hid his stash well enough.
"Cleveland, then. Wait-"
Ryan's nose scrunches and Jon's thoughts shift to vague ideas of getting a bunny. Bunnies are soft. But Dylan would sulk if he got another pet, he knows, and Clover would want to eat it. Marley still thinks everything's a toy, so all in all, probably not a good idea. Which is too bad since Jon's a big fan of soft. He pushes a thought of pale, smooth skin out of his head.
"-burgh. No, no that's not it. I'm pretty sure it's Cleveland."
Jon tunes back in time to see Ryan nod decisively. Grinning, he says, "Actually, they're in Columbus today."
Ryan frowns. "Then why did you ask?"
Seriously. Jon's going to re-hide his damn weed. Ryan's more than capable of getting his own now. Some things never change though.
"I didn't, Ross. What I said is that Spencer is currently laughing his ass off." The tailor's hand shifts closer to Jon's junk and he grimaces, adding, "In Columbus. Not Cleveland."
Before Ryan can respond, the tailor is unbuttoning his pants, and Jon's left standing in his t-shirt and boxers. The guy, an older gentleman who's communicated mostly in grunts and irritated sighs the entire time, looks up. They stare at each other for a second, and Jon realizes he can move now. With relief, Jon steps out of the way and heads toward the couch. He flops down at the other end of the couch with a sigh and starts poking Ryan in the thigh until he finally looks at Jon.
"I thought we were done with costumes. I'm pretty sure it's in my contract that I don't have to wear them ever again. Plus, you know, you have Kate and Z and Alex to torment now."
"One-" Ryan finally sets his book down, "-it's a suit, not a costume. A suit. You wore one last week, so quit bitching." He shifts around, nearly kneeing himself in the chin at one point, until his head is in Jon's lap. "And two, you are my favorite, Jon Walker. I live to torment you." Waving a hand around, "The rest are just a bonus."
Jon raises his eyebrow, unimpressed and Ryan flutters his eyelashes. Jon can feel his lips twitch and Ryan grins, wide. Rolling his eyes, Jon pushes him off the couch. There's a flailing of limbs and a thump as he hits the floor.
"Ow. Fucker."
Leaning over, Jon's about to call him a wimp, when there's a cough across the room. They both look over.
The tailor is watching them, looking distinctly unimpressed as well, and with Jon's pants in his hands.With a grimace, Jon does his best to make them explode with the power of his mind.Nothing happens except a stiff, "These should be ready tomorrow evening, Mr. Walker." It's the most he's said the entire two hours he's been at the house. Jon mutters an oh joy under his breath, earning him a short punch to the calf.
Neither one of them move as the guy gathers the rest of Jon's suit and his equipment. Ryan offers him a "Thank you" and receives a short nod in return. They hear the front door shut, but Ryan doesn't move from his spot on the floor. Jon pokes him in the side with a bare foot and Ryan curls out of reach, arm coming around his side for protection. Jon gives up and falls back against the cushions.
After a few minutes, Ryan finally pulls himself up off the floor and slides in beside Jon. They sit in silence and Jon's just opened his mouth to ask why they were wearing suits for this tour when Ryan asks quietly, "Has she called?"
He stiffens immediately, looking away. Ryan's body is a line of warmth along his side. It's nice, but he doesn't want to admit it. Instead he states tersely, "I don't want to talk about it."
From the corner of his eye he can see Ryan's hand hovering over his thigh. Awkward Ryan is awkward, he thinks. Spencer was always better at the whole concern and comfort thing. Of course, Spencer usually just said something like 'That sucks, dude', gave you a hug and let you figure your shit out on your own.
"Jon-"
Ryan? Not so much.
"Leave it alone, Ryan." Jon knows it's pointless, but adds, "I mean it."
"It's been three months." Jon resolutely refuses to look at him. "You haven't said more than 'we broke up' to me. To anyone. Tom-" That makes Jon whip his head around, "-says you won't even talk to him-"
"Oh, you've been talking to Tom, huh?" A surge of anger slams through Jon and he snaps, "What the fuck, Ry? Who gave you the right to go poking around in shit that's not your business?"
Ryan rolls his eyes. "Don't be a jackass. You're my friend. My band mate. Of course, I've got the right."
"Fine." Jon's done with this. There's an ache in his jaw and he realizes that he's been clenching his teeth together. "She called last week to say that she's having her friend pick up the last of her stuff. And that she's dating someone. Are you satisfied?" He gets a vague sense of nauseous glee at the shock on Ryan's face.
"Shit, Jon-"
"Fuck off. I don't want to hear it." He shoves off the couch, heading down the hallway to the guest bedroom. Ryan follows, but Jon blocks him at the door with a quiet, "I really don't think you're the best person to talk to about this." It's a dickweed move, he knows, closing the door in Ryan's face.
*
The problem, Jon notes, with locking yourself away in a dark room to be alone is that you're alone. In a dark room. With nothing else to think about but the fact that your girlfriend left you three months ago and you're a jackass for hurting your friend when all he was doing was being your friend.
Jon's doing his best to not think about the flicker of hurt on Ryan's face when his phone buzzes on the nightstand.
New Text
Spence
Ryan says you're being an asshole. Is it roshambo time? I get to go first.
Huh. Ryan must really be worried if he'd been talking to Spencer. For the past year, Ryan has studiously been working to prove that he could handle 'stuff' without Spencer. It's stupid, but Jon knows that Ryan is not best about admitting when he's wrong. Or when he misses his best friend.
He's just staring at his phone when another text comes through.
No, really. I will kick your ass. Or leave Brendon at the house and lock all the doors from the outside.
idle threats, Jon sends back.
I don't make idle threats, you of all people should know that. Are you going to go talk to him now?
He's halfway through typing it's not that important when Spencer's next text comes through.
Of course it's important, jackass. Now go let him in.
that shit's still creepy, you know, he sends instead. It really is.
Whatever. Also don't be a dick and call me sometime. Dick.
With a small smile, Jon sends off a fine. Hopefully, his weary sigh is appropriately conveyed through the distance. He sits on the edge of the bed for a while, phone curled in the palm of his hands. It really is time.
When he opens the door, Ryan falls backwards. It's the second time today that he's landed flat on his back and Jon can't quite help smiling. "I have been informed that I am being a jackass." Ryan's phone lights up with a new text message just then. "But then you know that already."
Ryan stays quiet and Jon stares down at his face, upside down, his own smile slipping. "Sorry about that last thing." The words are quiet, but it feels like they echo down the hallway. Half a second later, Ryan scrambles up from the floor. They stand there, in Jon's doorway, staring at each other.
"So." Jon looks down at his toes, then back up. "I think I could use a hug." The words are barely out of his mouth before Ryan's wrapped himself around Jon. With a sigh, Jon buries his face against Ryan's shoulder, his own arms coming up, hugging back. Ryan's bony, but he's warm. Jon forgets that sometimes.
"Are we going to talk now?"
"No." He can feel Ryan tense up and he amends quickly, "Not yet. But soon, I promise." Ryan relaxes, arms tightening around him.
They stand like that for a few minutes, quiet, until Ryan breaks the silence with, "You know, this is kind of awkward when you're not wearing pants."
"Shut the fuck up, Ross. We're having a moment, don't blow it."
"I'll wear your damn suit," he mutters into Ryan's shoulder after a moment. He can't seem to stop gripping the fabric under his hands, at the small of Ryan's back.There's a slight pause before something that sounds suspiciously like matching ties.
"What?"
Ryan pulls back, "Well, not matching exactly. Since I'll be wearing the white suit, my tie will be black. Yours is white. Did I mention that?"
Shaking his head, Jon drags him back into the hug, "The things I do for you, Ross."
Ryan squeezes back and Jon just lets himself breathe.
[originally posted anonymously here on 01/13/10]
[x-posted here on xx/xx/10]
1660 words // pg // jon/ryan
[Prompt: written for 2009 no_tags round 1 prompt of jon/ryan and costumes.]
[Recipient: turps33]
[A/N: totally not what i went in expecting to write, lol.]
[Beta: cloudlessclimes]
*
"Right now," Jon muttered, "Spencer is somewhere laughing his ass off."
He shifts a little on the pedestal and gets a disgruntled huff of air that's a little too close to his crotch for comfort. Ryan looks up from his book, long legs sprawled across half the couch and says, "That'd be--hey, what's today?"
"The 10th."
Ryan's face goes a little blank at Jon's answer, eyes losing focus as he thinks. It's ridiculously similar enough to how he looks when he's stoned that Jon wonders if he hid his stash well enough.
"Cleveland, then. Wait-"
Ryan's nose scrunches and Jon's thoughts shift to vague ideas of getting a bunny. Bunnies are soft. But Dylan would sulk if he got another pet, he knows, and Clover would want to eat it. Marley still thinks everything's a toy, so all in all, probably not a good idea. Which is too bad since Jon's a big fan of soft. He pushes a thought of pale, smooth skin out of his head.
"-burgh. No, no that's not it. I'm pretty sure it's Cleveland."
Jon tunes back in time to see Ryan nod decisively. Grinning, he says, "Actually, they're in Columbus today."
Ryan frowns. "Then why did you ask?"
Seriously. Jon's going to re-hide his damn weed. Ryan's more than capable of getting his own now. Some things never change though.
"I didn't, Ross. What I said is that Spencer is currently laughing his ass off." The tailor's hand shifts closer to Jon's junk and he grimaces, adding, "In Columbus. Not Cleveland."
Before Ryan can respond, the tailor is unbuttoning his pants, and Jon's left standing in his t-shirt and boxers. The guy, an older gentleman who's communicated mostly in grunts and irritated sighs the entire time, looks up. They stare at each other for a second, and Jon realizes he can move now. With relief, Jon steps out of the way and heads toward the couch. He flops down at the other end of the couch with a sigh and starts poking Ryan in the thigh until he finally looks at Jon.
"I thought we were done with costumes. I'm pretty sure it's in my contract that I don't have to wear them ever again. Plus, you know, you have Kate and Z and Alex to torment now."
"One-" Ryan finally sets his book down, "-it's a suit, not a costume. A suit. You wore one last week, so quit bitching." He shifts around, nearly kneeing himself in the chin at one point, until his head is in Jon's lap. "And two, you are my favorite, Jon Walker. I live to torment you." Waving a hand around, "The rest are just a bonus."
Jon raises his eyebrow, unimpressed and Ryan flutters his eyelashes. Jon can feel his lips twitch and Ryan grins, wide. Rolling his eyes, Jon pushes him off the couch. There's a flailing of limbs and a thump as he hits the floor.
"Ow. Fucker."
Leaning over, Jon's about to call him a wimp, when there's a cough across the room. They both look over.
The tailor is watching them, looking distinctly unimpressed as well, and with Jon's pants in his hands.With a grimace, Jon does his best to make them explode with the power of his mind.Nothing happens except a stiff, "These should be ready tomorrow evening, Mr. Walker." It's the most he's said the entire two hours he's been at the house. Jon mutters an oh joy under his breath, earning him a short punch to the calf.
Neither one of them move as the guy gathers the rest of Jon's suit and his equipment. Ryan offers him a "Thank you" and receives a short nod in return. They hear the front door shut, but Ryan doesn't move from his spot on the floor. Jon pokes him in the side with a bare foot and Ryan curls out of reach, arm coming around his side for protection. Jon gives up and falls back against the cushions.
After a few minutes, Ryan finally pulls himself up off the floor and slides in beside Jon. They sit in silence and Jon's just opened his mouth to ask why they were wearing suits for this tour when Ryan asks quietly, "Has she called?"
He stiffens immediately, looking away. Ryan's body is a line of warmth along his side. It's nice, but he doesn't want to admit it. Instead he states tersely, "I don't want to talk about it."
From the corner of his eye he can see Ryan's hand hovering over his thigh. Awkward Ryan is awkward, he thinks. Spencer was always better at the whole concern and comfort thing. Of course, Spencer usually just said something like 'That sucks, dude', gave you a hug and let you figure your shit out on your own.
"Jon-"
Ryan? Not so much.
"Leave it alone, Ryan." Jon knows it's pointless, but adds, "I mean it."
"It's been three months." Jon resolutely refuses to look at him. "You haven't said more than 'we broke up' to me. To anyone. Tom-" That makes Jon whip his head around, "-says you won't even talk to him-"
"Oh, you've been talking to Tom, huh?" A surge of anger slams through Jon and he snaps, "What the fuck, Ry? Who gave you the right to go poking around in shit that's not your business?"
Ryan rolls his eyes. "Don't be a jackass. You're my friend. My band mate. Of course, I've got the right."
"Fine." Jon's done with this. There's an ache in his jaw and he realizes that he's been clenching his teeth together. "She called last week to say that she's having her friend pick up the last of her stuff. And that she's dating someone. Are you satisfied?" He gets a vague sense of nauseous glee at the shock on Ryan's face.
"Shit, Jon-"
"Fuck off. I don't want to hear it." He shoves off the couch, heading down the hallway to the guest bedroom. Ryan follows, but Jon blocks him at the door with a quiet, "I really don't think you're the best person to talk to about this." It's a dickweed move, he knows, closing the door in Ryan's face.
*
The problem, Jon notes, with locking yourself away in a dark room to be alone is that you're alone. In a dark room. With nothing else to think about but the fact that your girlfriend left you three months ago and you're a jackass for hurting your friend when all he was doing was being your friend.
Jon's doing his best to not think about the flicker of hurt on Ryan's face when his phone buzzes on the nightstand.
New Text
Spence
Ryan says you're being an asshole. Is it roshambo time? I get to go first.
Huh. Ryan must really be worried if he'd been talking to Spencer. For the past year, Ryan has studiously been working to prove that he could handle 'stuff' without Spencer. It's stupid, but Jon knows that Ryan is not best about admitting when he's wrong. Or when he misses his best friend.
He's just staring at his phone when another text comes through.
No, really. I will kick your ass. Or leave Brendon at the house and lock all the doors from the outside.
idle threats, Jon sends back.
I don't make idle threats, you of all people should know that. Are you going to go talk to him now?
He's halfway through typing it's not that important when Spencer's next text comes through.
Of course it's important, jackass. Now go let him in.
that shit's still creepy, you know, he sends instead. It really is.
Whatever. Also don't be a dick and call me sometime. Dick.
With a small smile, Jon sends off a fine. Hopefully, his weary sigh is appropriately conveyed through the distance. He sits on the edge of the bed for a while, phone curled in the palm of his hands. It really is time.
When he opens the door, Ryan falls backwards. It's the second time today that he's landed flat on his back and Jon can't quite help smiling. "I have been informed that I am being a jackass." Ryan's phone lights up with a new text message just then. "But then you know that already."
Ryan stays quiet and Jon stares down at his face, upside down, his own smile slipping. "Sorry about that last thing." The words are quiet, but it feels like they echo down the hallway. Half a second later, Ryan scrambles up from the floor. They stand there, in Jon's doorway, staring at each other.
"So." Jon looks down at his toes, then back up. "I think I could use a hug." The words are barely out of his mouth before Ryan's wrapped himself around Jon. With a sigh, Jon buries his face against Ryan's shoulder, his own arms coming up, hugging back. Ryan's bony, but he's warm. Jon forgets that sometimes.
"Are we going to talk now?"
"No." He can feel Ryan tense up and he amends quickly, "Not yet. But soon, I promise." Ryan relaxes, arms tightening around him.
They stand like that for a few minutes, quiet, until Ryan breaks the silence with, "You know, this is kind of awkward when you're not wearing pants."
"Shut the fuck up, Ross. We're having a moment, don't blow it."
"I'll wear your damn suit," he mutters into Ryan's shoulder after a moment. He can't seem to stop gripping the fabric under his hands, at the small of Ryan's back.There's a slight pause before something that sounds suspiciously like matching ties.
"What?"
Ryan pulls back, "Well, not matching exactly. Since I'll be wearing the white suit, my tie will be black. Yours is white. Did I mention that?"
Shaking his head, Jon drags him back into the hug, "The things I do for you, Ross."
Ryan squeezes back and Jon just lets himself breathe.
[originally posted anonymously here on 01/13/10]
[x-posted here on xx/xx/10]