[pseudofic] IRONY KILLED THE CAT [shane/brendon, pg13]
Okay, so I meant to post this right after Big Bang. Most of it - including A CERTAIN LINE which I am sure you will notice - was written right after Big Bang. I just cleaned it up now and felt like posting it because, looking over it again, it actually KIND OF OWNS. also i wanted to post it for posterity. hell yeah. hell. yeah. ... ahahahaha. don't take this too seriously, i don't know wtf either.
by the by, despite the title, there were no cats killed in the making of this fic. it has not actually been edited or anything, though. and once again, this takes place after my big bang fic, which i linked down below, sooooo yeah.
IRONY KILLED THE CAT
shane/brendon. pg13. 4,108 words.
wherein tests are taken, snakes talk, and certain serious things are considered ironically.
follows shortly after Potential & Limitless Grace.
"Hey," Shane says conversationally. Brendon's been thinking about ordering take-out or something. He's kind of hungry, but it's also only like 4:30. Then again, 4:20 was ten minutes ago, and he might have celebrated a little early. Brendon’s kind of hungry.
"Yeah?"
Shane's been working on editing something and Brendon's been watching TV and not harassing his friends, because they've all seen enough of him in the last few days to last a lifetime, probably (which, so what if they're on tour all the time, there are probably limits off tour, probably). "I was thinking we could go get tested soon. Since we're probably going to be doing this for a while."
"Oh, right, yeah," Brendon nods. "Sure. When?"
"I'll call." Shane shrugs. "You free next week?"
Brendon waves a hand. "Eh, just log into the band calendar on Google, I think Spence still updates that thing. I probably am."
Shane laughs. "Right."
“Do we have any snacks?”
-
Brendon's been trying to leave his friends alone, but Spencer is wise, and Brendon needs wisdom in his life right now.
"Piggyback, c'mon," is the first thing Brendon says, then as he's riding Spencer's back into the arcade, he says, "If you were dating somebody, would you trust them if they said they didn't have any STDs?"
"Uh," Spencer says, and lets Brendon down once they're through the doors.
"Because I'm pretty sure I don't."
"Good for you," Spencer says. "I'm proud of you."
"But if you were dating somebody," Brendon says. "If you were dating somebody and they wanted to go get tested. That's weird, right? Like, both of you. They should already know if they've got anything."
Spencer is staring at him. "Who are you going out with?"
"Nobody," Brendon says. "This is a hypothetical. If you were hypothetically dating somebody. They should already know their - and I mean, if you're already pretty sure."
"Just go do it."
"I already said I would, it's just weird," Brendon says.
"Not really. If it’s going to be a long-term thing, I mean.”
"I wouldn't - hypothetically, I mean, I wouldn't lie."
"That's good," Spencer says. "Go get hypothetically tested. Shane's hypothetically a good dude, I'm happy for you."
"You're hypothetically happy," Brendon says. "I'm only hypothetically sleeping with anyone. And I never mentioned Shane, not even hypothetically, so I’m going to pretend you never said that. Hypothetically."
"That word is about to lose any meaning it ever had."
"Yeah," Brendon says. “Yeah, it kind of already did, I think.”
-
"I'm gonna go get tested," Brendon says.
"Okay," Brent says, then there's a long pause. "For what?"
"Sexually transmitted infections, Brent."
"Oh. Wait, why? Does Shane have herpes or something? Do you think you got it?"
"I - what?"
"Did you catch the herp, dude? That sucks."
"No," Brendon says, slowly. "No one has the herp. And what does Shane have to do with it?"
"Nothing," Brent says.
"Okay." Brendon pauses. "Did he tell you he has the herp? Where did you hear he's got herpes, dude?"
"Nowhere," Brent says. "Why does it matter?"
"I don't know," Brendon says. "I - what the fuck is this conversation, man, I'm just going to be a responsible adult. I'm so fucking responsible. It's amazing. It shows. Uh. Responsibility. And self-actualization or something."
Brent stares at him. Brent is kind of a weird dude sometimes. Brent says, "Your mom's self-actualized."
"Okay. Good. We're making progress here."
-
Brendon is kind of antsy even after he actually gets tested. Planned Parenthood doesn’t have any stickers or anything, which is kind of a bummer, but he takes some free condoms.
They’re not quite as awesome as a free sticker would have been.
The point is, he’s antsy, because he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have anything, but waiting gets him more and more paranoid that maybe there is something lurking inside. He keeps checking his junk to make sure he doesn’t have any weird rashes or something.
At one point, he’s sort of getting a headache and manages to convince himself it’s the onset of syphilis.
“Pretty sure it’s not,” Shane says. “Unless you’ve been sleeping around.”
“No. But what if, like. What if it took this long to manifest? I’m going to go insane and die, Shane. Show some concern.”
“They can treat syphilis, dude, you’re not going to die in a week.”
“What if I did? What if I have, like, some mutated, deadly strain of syphilis?”
Shane starts laughing.
“You’re not being supportive of me in my time of need, Shane. Shane. Come on, Shane.”
“Poor thing,” Shane says, still laughing. He rubs a hand across Brendon’s back soothingly. “I promise I’ll be really sad if you die of super-syphilis.”
“Hm.” Brendon puts on his best pout.
“Honest. Hey, c’mon. You’re good, dude. The fact that you’re even nervous is freaking me out a little. Like, do you have something to be nervous about?”
“No,” Brendon says. “Except if Audrey gave me syphilis.”
“Has Audrey ever said anything about having syphilis?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Is Audrey still alive?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Shane says.
Brendon’s resolve is pretty weak in the face of Shane smiling at him and rubbing his back, so he gives up and folds himself up against Shane’s side and goes back to watching the movie.
-
“So we can do it without condoms now, right?”
“I - we haven’t gotten the HIV results, dude.”
“Do you have HIV?”
“Probably not,” Shane says. “But we’re going to wait and see. Then we’re going to do it again.”
“So we can do it without condoms after that.”
“We’ll see.”
“Audrey never said anything about HIV, either.”
“Is Audrey seriously the only other person you’ve slept with?”
“No,” Brendon says, shaking his head. He’s feeling really affronted. He thought Shane had more faith in him than that. “I’m young and virile. I’ve slept with tons of people. So many fucking people, man. I don’t remember how many.”
“Okay, one, that’s not even remotely comforting. I’m not sure I actually believe you, but still, no.” Shane pauses. “And two, you know that Regan and I went and got tested, too, right.”
Brendon looks at him. “Okay.”
“It’s not like I don’t trust you or anything,” Shane says. “You know that, right? I mean, it’s just as much about, like. You knowing that I’m clean and not sleeping around as the other way around.”
Brendon’s voice is softer this time. “Yeah, okay.”
-
Ryan writes a song about flowers. “It’s a metaphor,” he explains, patiently.
“For what?”
“I don’t know.” Ryan pauses. “What’s your tattoo a metaphor for?”
After examining it briefly, Brendon says, “I don’t think my tattoo is a metaphor.” There are currently four flowers in full bloom. Sometimes there are more than less. A few petals have turned brown at the edges on one flower, but that’s nothing new; he’s had blooms come and go several times now. They do better with sunlight.
“Unless you look at it metaphorically,” Ryan says.
Brent says, “So can I get a bass solo or something?”
“Yes,” Spencer says. “Shit, yes. That would be the best thing in the history of music.”
“Thank you.”
Ryan crosses his arms. “You’re not even that good.”
“Bass solo,” Spencer says. There’s a tightness around his jaw he only gets when he’s really mad or when he’s trying really, really hard not to laugh. “We’re doing it.”
“Hey,” Brent says. “Hey.”
“Shut up, Brent, I’m supporting you, here,” Spencer says, just managing to retain his composure and looking sort of haughty in the process. Then he lets his expression lighten: “So wait, Brendon, do you have the clap or anything?”
“No,” Brendon says. “What the fuck?”
Ryan stares at the both of them, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, seriously, what?”
“He hypothetically got tested for STDs.” Spencer is looking really, really smug right now.
“You haven’t even been sleeping with that many groupies lately,” Ryan says.
“Better safe than sorry,” Brendon says, with a strange expression because he can’t decide if he’d rather try to grin and shrug it off, or frown because Spencer’s being a douche. He’s pretty sure the band wouldn’t care that he and Shane are going out, but he also hasn’t actually told any of them yet. Which - okay, so Brent and Spencer totally have the right idea, but Brendon is pretty sure they’re just being assholes, which is pretty frustrating. And also part of why Brendon hasn’t told anybody yet.
It’s a really weird thing to keep secret, but. But Spencer’s being a jerk, so.
-
They go get tested again. Brendon doesn’t actually tell anyone this time.
Shane says, “You know they won’t kick you out, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re the lead singer.”
“The band could break up, though. Ryan Ross could start a terrible side project with Jon or something.”
“They love you, dude,” Shane says.
“Yeah,” Brendon says. Right about now, he’d normally be getting up and pacing and asking if Shane wanted take-out or calling Brent to play video games or something, but instead he just lets Shane keep playing with his hair. He’s too warm and content where he is.
Shane presses a kiss against his temple, and rubs his thumb against Brendon’s cheek, and Brendon leans up to press their lips together. Shane’s other hand rests loosely against Brendon’s side but his fingers curl in possessively against his skin as they deepen the kiss.
His hand is in the same spot where he left bruises a week ago, and the spot is still sort of sore. There’s also a tiny sapling growing up from one of the dark blue-purple marks, just a tiny green stalk and two leaves curled away from each other but already bigger than it was yesterday and trembling under the pressure, so.
He’s pretty sure he’s going to have to tell the band.
-
“So I’m gonna have to leave practice by, like, five,” Brendon says. “Just so you know.”
“Dude,” Ryan says.
“Yeah, okay,” Spencer says. “What’s up? Going somewhere?”
“I, uhm. Am going out. To get dinner. At a restaurant. A really nice one.” Brendon pauses dramatically. “With Shane. So. As, like, a date. So yeah.”
“Not hypothetically?” Spencer asks, and he actually sounds kind of warm and understanding. Brendon was fearing a lot worse.
“Not hypothetically.”
“You’re going out with the camera guy we got off Craigslist,” Ryan says.
Brendon sits up straight, trying not to hunch his shoulders or duck his head or look away like he wants to. “So? He’s our camera guy, not just some random guy off the Internet or whatever.”
“I’d say he’s your camera guy,” Brent says. “You know, like, technically. I thought Shane said you weren’t going out, though.”
“Wait, what?” Brendon says. His stomach feels cold. He knows - like, Shane knows that he isn’t out to the band, but he’s also said he wouldn’t lie if anybody asked him.
“I thought he was cheating on you,” Brent says, real casually, like it doesn’t matter. “Only he said that wasn’t even possible since you weren’t going out. So you are now, or what?”
“Fuck,” Brendon says. He looks down, rubbing at his arm without meaning to. As he does, he manages to dislodge half the petals from the big white flower just above the piano keys.
“Fuck,” Spencer agrees.
“We can make it into a song.” Ryan, for what it’s worth, looks concerned, and probably thinks that offer means something.
Brendon bites down hard on his lip. He wants to laugh, but he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t because he’s not sure he’d be able to stop. “I’m gonna. Can we cut practice short?”
“It wasn’t, like, super-recent?” Brent offers.
“Yeah, no,” Brendon says. “That. Whatever. Fine. I’m still going to go - I don’t know. I’m going somewhere else.”
He drives out to the desert. Night takes a long, long time to fall, but he sits out on a rock until well after dark. Spencer texts, at one point, offering to let him crash at his new place. Spencer has a guest bedroom. Brendon’s pretty tempted, but he doesn’t text back for a long time because as soon as Shane tries to call he turns off his phone.
He’s pretty sure he’s being stupid, but he also doesn’t want to deal with all this, whatever this is.
His side hurts. He takes tiny, shallow breaths for a while , then lifts up his shirt like that’ll help him figure out what’s wrong. Surprisingly, it does, a little: a few of the leaves on his tree have gone brown and are curled up at the edges, peeling away from his body. The skin underneath is raw and red. Brendon tries to push the leaves back down, but it doesn’t help.
After a while, he pulls his shirt down and jumps off of the rock. It has a slight overhang. Underneath, there is light reflected off a pair of eyes, which he notices out of the corner of his eye. The main reason he only looks is because of the rattling noise.
In the darkness, Brendon can’t make out its color, but he can tell that there is a massive rattler coiled up barely three feet away. “Hey,” he says, backing away slowly. “Please don’t bite me.”
There is a deep, stuttering hiss. “I already have. You taste poorly.”
“Oh,” Brendon says. “Oh. You’re - I thought you lived in Ryan’s back yard.”
“There were men who came and took me here,” the snake says. “I stayed.”
“I guess there’s less people to worry about here,” Brendon says.
“Hm.” The snake uncoils from its place under the rock, slithering towards Brendon, who stands as still as he can. The snake noses at his foot then raises itself up off the ground. It can stand to nearly waist height, looking up at him, before it lowers itself back to the ground. “Sit. Let us talk.”
Brendon doesn’t know why, but he sits down. “Are you going to teach me how to dance?”
“That is the cobra’s place, not mine.”
“Oh.”
“Do I look like a cobra?”
“No,” Brendon says, contrite. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t bite me.”
“I already said I wouldn’t.” The snake is watching him unblinkingly, tongue testing the air regularly, visible even in the relative darkness. There are a lot of stars out tonight. The moon is half full, but Brendon doesn’t know if it’s waxing or waning. “Why are you out in the desert alone? There are dangerous things in the night.”
“I know,” Brendon says. “It wasn’t night when I got here. I just didn’t leave. I’m - I don’t know. I should go home, only I kind of. Live with the problem?”
“We all live with our own problems.”
“Deep.” Brendon snorts, rolling his eyes. “Are you going to impart some wisdom or anything, like, give me a mission? Or are you just gonna fake being deep?”
The snake stares at him.
“Dude,” Brendon says.
“All things,” the snake says, very slowly, “in due time.”
Brendon takes stock of his life, and the fact that right now he’s sitting out in the middle of the desert sulking and talking to a snake, rather than talking to his boyfriend, who probably has a totally reasonable explanation of some kind. “So we’re going with deep, then.”
“Yes.”
The snake is kind of scary, and it’s also right there, which makes it scarier than conversing with someone like a grown-up, so. Brendon decides to go along with it. “Okay. Cool.”
“You aren’t actually helping any.”
“Yeah, well,” Brendon says. “It’s cold. And I’m hungry as shit, because I was supposed to go get dinner with, uhm. With Shane. My boyfriend. And then I didn’t.”
“I know.”
“Dude, you’re psychic?”
“I’m a talking snake.”
“Point taken.” Brendon nods, picking up a handful of sand and letting it sift through his fingers.
“It would be in your best interests to speak with Shane,” the snake says, then pauses. “Just go talk to him or something, seriously.”
Brendon snorts. “Yeah, I kind of figured. I was actually avoiding doing that.”
The snake stares at him.
“Fine,” Brendon says, getting up and kicking at the sand. “Fine, jeez, avoiding it was dumb. I’ll go do that now. You happy now?”
-
Shane frowns. “So Brent says something dumb, you don’t even ask him when or what it was about, and just assume I’m cheating? Cool, thanks.”
“Yeah, it was pretty stupid of me,” Brendon says.
“Seriously, dude,” Shane says. “Because back when I told him we weren’t dating, that was like. Right when I met Regan.”
“Oh, yeah.” Brendon pauses. “Why the fuck did he ask if - damn it, Brent.” Brendon pulls out his phone and texts that, only with a few more exclamation points.
Shane touches Brendon’s side, just lightly, saying, “Look, just - talking’s good, okay? You could have even come home and yelled at me or something, that would’ve been better than disappearing.”
Brendon winces away. “Yeah.”
“You alright?”
“Kind of.” Brendon pauses. “I talked to a snake.”
Shane raises his eyebrows.
-
The bed is cold when Brendon wakes up, but he hears water running from the bathroom so he figures Shane’s headed off to work or something. He gets up and meanders his sleepy way to the bathroom, and takes a leak before even saying good morning.
“That was classy,” Shane says, just finishing getting his belt buckled. He’s wearing the big obnoxious wolf buckle Brendon bought him a while back, but otherwise he’s dressed up pretty nicely. Nicely for Shane, at least, which means some slacks that still remember being ironed once, a striped button-down, and a tie draped around his neck but not actually tied yet.
“Hmm.” Brendon shrugs. “Leaving so soon?”
“Yeah,” Shane says. He leans on the edge of the sink for balance as he pulls his socks on. They’re argyle. “I’m meeting some people over breakfast. They want to give me money.”
“Ooh,” Brendon says. He steps forward, and Shane cocks his head questioningly then smiles as Brendon goes for the tie. Brendon pulls the ends down to about where he wants them, making little minute adjustments as to just how much longer the wide part is. “You a high roller now, huh?”
“Hopefully they’ll at least pay for the food.” Shane laughs a little, ducking his head. “They’re the millionaires.”
Brendon finishes getting Shane’s tie done, and tugs on the end until it’s where he wants it. Shane makes a face and Brendon loosens it a little, offering up a contrite smile that Shane returns with less contrition and more fondness. “Knock ‘em dead, tiger.”
“I - what? Excuse me, what?” Once Shane starts laughing, it takes him a long time to stop. Longer than Brendon, at least.
“You heard me.”
“Holy shit.” Shane is still smiling, the corners of his eyes all crinkled up. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I was born this way.” Brendon is flippant, fussing with Shane’s collar a little before stepping back. “There. Go forth into the world.”
“Thanks.”
-
Brendon gets an idea, after Shane leaves, one that involves spending twenty minutes looking for a Sharpie, and then after finding one looking for some in other colors. In the end, there aren’t as many as he wants so he heads to CVS and grabs a set of Crayolas and some posterboard, too, and some scissors as well. They probably have scissors back at the condo, but he’s a little paranoid after the marker debacle and doesn’t want to have to drive the trip to the drugstore twice.
After getting back, he grabs the camera and takes Dylan for a walk - he’s kind of wanted to film Dylan for a while, because Shane’s been teaching him a little about framing and composition and stuff, and it’s fun, and their dog is great. Brendon wants to be able to show home movies to his nieces and nephews, years from now.
Then he gets to work.
-
Shane gets a text from Brendon not to wait up that night, because of some band stuff - nothing interesting, sry ☹ apparently. The projector is set up, though, with film already loaded into it.
The screen is out, blocking the TV, with a note taped to it. Watch this!!!! ☺ is scrawled in Brendon’s half-legible handwriting.
Shane gets the projector running then settles onto the couch, because he doesn’t have anything else to do on a Tuesday night.
-
The film is grainy, colors a little washed out. The first thing that comes into focus is Brendon’s face, squinting at something very close to the lens as the shot wobbles. Then he’s lowering the camera down onto the table, and it’s clear he’s not wearing anything. Brendon backs away enough to reveal that he’s in the bedroom, and he sits on the bed, grinning. One of Brendon’s hands is cupped casually around his half-hard dick, and he waves with the other before -
The camera is pointed at the grass. Shane doesn’t want to know if Brendon edited that intentionally, or if something went wrong with the camera, or if he just recorded over the last shot or what. The picture is unsteady but it becomes clear relatively quickly that Brendon is filming Dylan out on a walk in the park.
This time there’s a little fumbling around before the scene ends, and a moment where the screen is blank.
Brendon’s sitting on their couch in the living room. From the angle, he probably had the camera propped next to the TV in the little media center. For a couple of seconds Brendon just grins - looking almost nervous - before picking up a sign. A stack of signs, actually, which is clear when he switches from Hi, Shane! to You’re cooler than the other side of the pillow!!!
Did you have a good day? is followed up with Even if you did hopefully this will make it better!!!
Then: Laws are made for breaking right?
And: Let’s rebel and do what we’re told!!
Brendon is using a lot of exclamation points on his signs. He’s also grinning like an idiot as he flips between them. He keeps having to brush his hair out of his face, and Shane thinks that later he’ll have to tell Brendon to go get a haircut if he isn’t going to bother trimming it himself. Maybe he’ll just buy Brendon some stupid hair clips instead, to rub it in. Whatever’s funniest.
The film is still playing.
So: Anyway we’ve known each other for years so we might as well
And: Do you want to marry me?? with Because I’d totally marry you and If that’s what you’re into.
The next sign is, We could say it was ironic or something. ;) and Shane isn’t sure how to take that. He’s not sure how to take any of this, but then there’s more footage of Dylan wandering around the park sniffing at trees. Brendon turns the camera away respectfully for a while to film a distant squirrel, and Shane can only guess what happened there.
Shane gets out his phone. He doesn’t let Brendon say anything first. "Dude, did you just try to propose to me ironically?"
“Tell me you wouldn’t get married ironically.”
“I think you’re the one who would do that.”
“But you’d go along with it,” Brendon says after a while, hesitant. “Because that’s what you do. Right?”
“I think marriage is probably better left unironic, man.”
“I mean, if you don’t want to,” Brendon says.
“I’m just trying to figure out if you’re kidding,” Shane says.
“Uhm. If you want me to be?”
"You know, irony killed the cat."
"I don't think it did. I think that was curiosity, and you're lying to me."
"It's called a joke," Shane says, laughing.
“Right. Yeah. Sorry, I - you know, nerves." Brendon pauses. "I wasn't actually kidding, I don’t think. Unless you think I should have been, but like, I would marry you unironically, if you were into that. But if not, you know. Totally ironic.”
“Yeah, okay.”
"Okay? Okay what?"
"Sure, fine," Shane says.
"That doesn't answer anything, Valdes. I can tell how smug you are over the phone, dude, stop it. Stop being smug. Dude."
"So what, would you say, is the most unironic form of marriage? Like, elopement? Having a big ceremony? What?"
"Shit, dude, I didn't think ahead that far," Brendon says. "I was stuck on the ironic version."
"Well, try thinking about the unironic version, then get back to me."
"I - okay, yeah, sure."
by the by, despite the title, there were no cats killed in the making of this fic. it has not actually been edited or anything, though. and once again, this takes place after my big bang fic, which i linked down below, sooooo yeah.
IRONY KILLED THE CAT
shane/brendon. pg13. 4,108 words.
wherein tests are taken, snakes talk, and certain serious things are considered ironically.
follows shortly after Potential & Limitless Grace.
"Hey," Shane says conversationally. Brendon's been thinking about ordering take-out or something. He's kind of hungry, but it's also only like 4:30. Then again, 4:20 was ten minutes ago, and he might have celebrated a little early. Brendon’s kind of hungry.
"Yeah?"
Shane's been working on editing something and Brendon's been watching TV and not harassing his friends, because they've all seen enough of him in the last few days to last a lifetime, probably (which, so what if they're on tour all the time, there are probably limits off tour, probably). "I was thinking we could go get tested soon. Since we're probably going to be doing this for a while."
"Oh, right, yeah," Brendon nods. "Sure. When?"
"I'll call." Shane shrugs. "You free next week?"
Brendon waves a hand. "Eh, just log into the band calendar on Google, I think Spence still updates that thing. I probably am."
Shane laughs. "Right."
“Do we have any snacks?”
-
Brendon's been trying to leave his friends alone, but Spencer is wise, and Brendon needs wisdom in his life right now.
"Piggyback, c'mon," is the first thing Brendon says, then as he's riding Spencer's back into the arcade, he says, "If you were dating somebody, would you trust them if they said they didn't have any STDs?"
"Uh," Spencer says, and lets Brendon down once they're through the doors.
"Because I'm pretty sure I don't."
"Good for you," Spencer says. "I'm proud of you."
"But if you were dating somebody," Brendon says. "If you were dating somebody and they wanted to go get tested. That's weird, right? Like, both of you. They should already know if they've got anything."
Spencer is staring at him. "Who are you going out with?"
"Nobody," Brendon says. "This is a hypothetical. If you were hypothetically dating somebody. They should already know their - and I mean, if you're already pretty sure."
"Just go do it."
"I already said I would, it's just weird," Brendon says.
"Not really. If it’s going to be a long-term thing, I mean.”
"I wouldn't - hypothetically, I mean, I wouldn't lie."
"That's good," Spencer says. "Go get hypothetically tested. Shane's hypothetically a good dude, I'm happy for you."
"You're hypothetically happy," Brendon says. "I'm only hypothetically sleeping with anyone. And I never mentioned Shane, not even hypothetically, so I’m going to pretend you never said that. Hypothetically."
"That word is about to lose any meaning it ever had."
"Yeah," Brendon says. “Yeah, it kind of already did, I think.”
-
"I'm gonna go get tested," Brendon says.
"Okay," Brent says, then there's a long pause. "For what?"
"Sexually transmitted infections, Brent."
"Oh. Wait, why? Does Shane have herpes or something? Do you think you got it?"
"I - what?"
"Did you catch the herp, dude? That sucks."
"No," Brendon says, slowly. "No one has the herp. And what does Shane have to do with it?"
"Nothing," Brent says.
"Okay." Brendon pauses. "Did he tell you he has the herp? Where did you hear he's got herpes, dude?"
"Nowhere," Brent says. "Why does it matter?"
"I don't know," Brendon says. "I - what the fuck is this conversation, man, I'm just going to be a responsible adult. I'm so fucking responsible. It's amazing. It shows. Uh. Responsibility. And self-actualization or something."
Brent stares at him. Brent is kind of a weird dude sometimes. Brent says, "Your mom's self-actualized."
"Okay. Good. We're making progress here."
-
Brendon is kind of antsy even after he actually gets tested. Planned Parenthood doesn’t have any stickers or anything, which is kind of a bummer, but he takes some free condoms.
They’re not quite as awesome as a free sticker would have been.
The point is, he’s antsy, because he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have anything, but waiting gets him more and more paranoid that maybe there is something lurking inside. He keeps checking his junk to make sure he doesn’t have any weird rashes or something.
At one point, he’s sort of getting a headache and manages to convince himself it’s the onset of syphilis.
“Pretty sure it’s not,” Shane says. “Unless you’ve been sleeping around.”
“No. But what if, like. What if it took this long to manifest? I’m going to go insane and die, Shane. Show some concern.”
“They can treat syphilis, dude, you’re not going to die in a week.”
“What if I did? What if I have, like, some mutated, deadly strain of syphilis?”
Shane starts laughing.
“You’re not being supportive of me in my time of need, Shane. Shane. Come on, Shane.”
“Poor thing,” Shane says, still laughing. He rubs a hand across Brendon’s back soothingly. “I promise I’ll be really sad if you die of super-syphilis.”
“Hm.” Brendon puts on his best pout.
“Honest. Hey, c’mon. You’re good, dude. The fact that you’re even nervous is freaking me out a little. Like, do you have something to be nervous about?”
“No,” Brendon says. “Except if Audrey gave me syphilis.”
“Has Audrey ever said anything about having syphilis?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Is Audrey still alive?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Shane says.
Brendon’s resolve is pretty weak in the face of Shane smiling at him and rubbing his back, so he gives up and folds himself up against Shane’s side and goes back to watching the movie.
-
“So we can do it without condoms now, right?”
“I - we haven’t gotten the HIV results, dude.”
“Do you have HIV?”
“Probably not,” Shane says. “But we’re going to wait and see. Then we’re going to do it again.”
“So we can do it without condoms after that.”
“We’ll see.”
“Audrey never said anything about HIV, either.”
“Is Audrey seriously the only other person you’ve slept with?”
“No,” Brendon says, shaking his head. He’s feeling really affronted. He thought Shane had more faith in him than that. “I’m young and virile. I’ve slept with tons of people. So many fucking people, man. I don’t remember how many.”
“Okay, one, that’s not even remotely comforting. I’m not sure I actually believe you, but still, no.” Shane pauses. “And two, you know that Regan and I went and got tested, too, right.”
Brendon looks at him. “Okay.”
“It’s not like I don’t trust you or anything,” Shane says. “You know that, right? I mean, it’s just as much about, like. You knowing that I’m clean and not sleeping around as the other way around.”
Brendon’s voice is softer this time. “Yeah, okay.”
-
Ryan writes a song about flowers. “It’s a metaphor,” he explains, patiently.
“For what?”
“I don’t know.” Ryan pauses. “What’s your tattoo a metaphor for?”
After examining it briefly, Brendon says, “I don’t think my tattoo is a metaphor.” There are currently four flowers in full bloom. Sometimes there are more than less. A few petals have turned brown at the edges on one flower, but that’s nothing new; he’s had blooms come and go several times now. They do better with sunlight.
“Unless you look at it metaphorically,” Ryan says.
Brent says, “So can I get a bass solo or something?”
“Yes,” Spencer says. “Shit, yes. That would be the best thing in the history of music.”
“Thank you.”
Ryan crosses his arms. “You’re not even that good.”
“Bass solo,” Spencer says. There’s a tightness around his jaw he only gets when he’s really mad or when he’s trying really, really hard not to laugh. “We’re doing it.”
“Hey,” Brent says. “Hey.”
“Shut up, Brent, I’m supporting you, here,” Spencer says, just managing to retain his composure and looking sort of haughty in the process. Then he lets his expression lighten: “So wait, Brendon, do you have the clap or anything?”
“No,” Brendon says. “What the fuck?”
Ryan stares at the both of them, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, seriously, what?”
“He hypothetically got tested for STDs.” Spencer is looking really, really smug right now.
“You haven’t even been sleeping with that many groupies lately,” Ryan says.
“Better safe than sorry,” Brendon says, with a strange expression because he can’t decide if he’d rather try to grin and shrug it off, or frown because Spencer’s being a douche. He’s pretty sure the band wouldn’t care that he and Shane are going out, but he also hasn’t actually told any of them yet. Which - okay, so Brent and Spencer totally have the right idea, but Brendon is pretty sure they’re just being assholes, which is pretty frustrating. And also part of why Brendon hasn’t told anybody yet.
It’s a really weird thing to keep secret, but. But Spencer’s being a jerk, so.
-
They go get tested again. Brendon doesn’t actually tell anyone this time.
Shane says, “You know they won’t kick you out, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re the lead singer.”
“The band could break up, though. Ryan Ross could start a terrible side project with Jon or something.”
“They love you, dude,” Shane says.
“Yeah,” Brendon says. Right about now, he’d normally be getting up and pacing and asking if Shane wanted take-out or calling Brent to play video games or something, but instead he just lets Shane keep playing with his hair. He’s too warm and content where he is.
Shane presses a kiss against his temple, and rubs his thumb against Brendon’s cheek, and Brendon leans up to press their lips together. Shane’s other hand rests loosely against Brendon’s side but his fingers curl in possessively against his skin as they deepen the kiss.
His hand is in the same spot where he left bruises a week ago, and the spot is still sort of sore. There’s also a tiny sapling growing up from one of the dark blue-purple marks, just a tiny green stalk and two leaves curled away from each other but already bigger than it was yesterday and trembling under the pressure, so.
He’s pretty sure he’s going to have to tell the band.
-
“So I’m gonna have to leave practice by, like, five,” Brendon says. “Just so you know.”
“Dude,” Ryan says.
“Yeah, okay,” Spencer says. “What’s up? Going somewhere?”
“I, uhm. Am going out. To get dinner. At a restaurant. A really nice one.” Brendon pauses dramatically. “With Shane. So. As, like, a date. So yeah.”
“Not hypothetically?” Spencer asks, and he actually sounds kind of warm and understanding. Brendon was fearing a lot worse.
“Not hypothetically.”
“You’re going out with the camera guy we got off Craigslist,” Ryan says.
Brendon sits up straight, trying not to hunch his shoulders or duck his head or look away like he wants to. “So? He’s our camera guy, not just some random guy off the Internet or whatever.”
“I’d say he’s your camera guy,” Brent says. “You know, like, technically. I thought Shane said you weren’t going out, though.”
“Wait, what?” Brendon says. His stomach feels cold. He knows - like, Shane knows that he isn’t out to the band, but he’s also said he wouldn’t lie if anybody asked him.
“I thought he was cheating on you,” Brent says, real casually, like it doesn’t matter. “Only he said that wasn’t even possible since you weren’t going out. So you are now, or what?”
“Fuck,” Brendon says. He looks down, rubbing at his arm without meaning to. As he does, he manages to dislodge half the petals from the big white flower just above the piano keys.
“Fuck,” Spencer agrees.
“We can make it into a song.” Ryan, for what it’s worth, looks concerned, and probably thinks that offer means something.
Brendon bites down hard on his lip. He wants to laugh, but he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t because he’s not sure he’d be able to stop. “I’m gonna. Can we cut practice short?”
“It wasn’t, like, super-recent?” Brent offers.
“Yeah, no,” Brendon says. “That. Whatever. Fine. I’m still going to go - I don’t know. I’m going somewhere else.”
He drives out to the desert. Night takes a long, long time to fall, but he sits out on a rock until well after dark. Spencer texts, at one point, offering to let him crash at his new place. Spencer has a guest bedroom. Brendon’s pretty tempted, but he doesn’t text back for a long time because as soon as Shane tries to call he turns off his phone.
He’s pretty sure he’s being stupid, but he also doesn’t want to deal with all this, whatever this is.
His side hurts. He takes tiny, shallow breaths for a while , then lifts up his shirt like that’ll help him figure out what’s wrong. Surprisingly, it does, a little: a few of the leaves on his tree have gone brown and are curled up at the edges, peeling away from his body. The skin underneath is raw and red. Brendon tries to push the leaves back down, but it doesn’t help.
After a while, he pulls his shirt down and jumps off of the rock. It has a slight overhang. Underneath, there is light reflected off a pair of eyes, which he notices out of the corner of his eye. The main reason he only looks is because of the rattling noise.
In the darkness, Brendon can’t make out its color, but he can tell that there is a massive rattler coiled up barely three feet away. “Hey,” he says, backing away slowly. “Please don’t bite me.”
There is a deep, stuttering hiss. “I already have. You taste poorly.”
“Oh,” Brendon says. “Oh. You’re - I thought you lived in Ryan’s back yard.”
“There were men who came and took me here,” the snake says. “I stayed.”
“I guess there’s less people to worry about here,” Brendon says.
“Hm.” The snake uncoils from its place under the rock, slithering towards Brendon, who stands as still as he can. The snake noses at his foot then raises itself up off the ground. It can stand to nearly waist height, looking up at him, before it lowers itself back to the ground. “Sit. Let us talk.”
Brendon doesn’t know why, but he sits down. “Are you going to teach me how to dance?”
“That is the cobra’s place, not mine.”
“Oh.”
“Do I look like a cobra?”
“No,” Brendon says, contrite. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t bite me.”
“I already said I wouldn’t.” The snake is watching him unblinkingly, tongue testing the air regularly, visible even in the relative darkness. There are a lot of stars out tonight. The moon is half full, but Brendon doesn’t know if it’s waxing or waning. “Why are you out in the desert alone? There are dangerous things in the night.”
“I know,” Brendon says. “It wasn’t night when I got here. I just didn’t leave. I’m - I don’t know. I should go home, only I kind of. Live with the problem?”
“We all live with our own problems.”
“Deep.” Brendon snorts, rolling his eyes. “Are you going to impart some wisdom or anything, like, give me a mission? Or are you just gonna fake being deep?”
The snake stares at him.
“Dude,” Brendon says.
“All things,” the snake says, very slowly, “in due time.”
Brendon takes stock of his life, and the fact that right now he’s sitting out in the middle of the desert sulking and talking to a snake, rather than talking to his boyfriend, who probably has a totally reasonable explanation of some kind. “So we’re going with deep, then.”
“Yes.”
The snake is kind of scary, and it’s also right there, which makes it scarier than conversing with someone like a grown-up, so. Brendon decides to go along with it. “Okay. Cool.”
“You aren’t actually helping any.”
“Yeah, well,” Brendon says. “It’s cold. And I’m hungry as shit, because I was supposed to go get dinner with, uhm. With Shane. My boyfriend. And then I didn’t.”
“I know.”
“Dude, you’re psychic?”
“I’m a talking snake.”
“Point taken.” Brendon nods, picking up a handful of sand and letting it sift through his fingers.
“It would be in your best interests to speak with Shane,” the snake says, then pauses. “Just go talk to him or something, seriously.”
Brendon snorts. “Yeah, I kind of figured. I was actually avoiding doing that.”
The snake stares at him.
“Fine,” Brendon says, getting up and kicking at the sand. “Fine, jeez, avoiding it was dumb. I’ll go do that now. You happy now?”
-
Shane frowns. “So Brent says something dumb, you don’t even ask him when or what it was about, and just assume I’m cheating? Cool, thanks.”
“Yeah, it was pretty stupid of me,” Brendon says.
“Seriously, dude,” Shane says. “Because back when I told him we weren’t dating, that was like. Right when I met Regan.”
“Oh, yeah.” Brendon pauses. “Why the fuck did he ask if - damn it, Brent.” Brendon pulls out his phone and texts that, only with a few more exclamation points.
Shane touches Brendon’s side, just lightly, saying, “Look, just - talking’s good, okay? You could have even come home and yelled at me or something, that would’ve been better than disappearing.”
Brendon winces away. “Yeah.”
“You alright?”
“Kind of.” Brendon pauses. “I talked to a snake.”
Shane raises his eyebrows.
-
The bed is cold when Brendon wakes up, but he hears water running from the bathroom so he figures Shane’s headed off to work or something. He gets up and meanders his sleepy way to the bathroom, and takes a leak before even saying good morning.
“That was classy,” Shane says, just finishing getting his belt buckled. He’s wearing the big obnoxious wolf buckle Brendon bought him a while back, but otherwise he’s dressed up pretty nicely. Nicely for Shane, at least, which means some slacks that still remember being ironed once, a striped button-down, and a tie draped around his neck but not actually tied yet.
“Hmm.” Brendon shrugs. “Leaving so soon?”
“Yeah,” Shane says. He leans on the edge of the sink for balance as he pulls his socks on. They’re argyle. “I’m meeting some people over breakfast. They want to give me money.”
“Ooh,” Brendon says. He steps forward, and Shane cocks his head questioningly then smiles as Brendon goes for the tie. Brendon pulls the ends down to about where he wants them, making little minute adjustments as to just how much longer the wide part is. “You a high roller now, huh?”
“Hopefully they’ll at least pay for the food.” Shane laughs a little, ducking his head. “They’re the millionaires.”
Brendon finishes getting Shane’s tie done, and tugs on the end until it’s where he wants it. Shane makes a face and Brendon loosens it a little, offering up a contrite smile that Shane returns with less contrition and more fondness. “Knock ‘em dead, tiger.”
“I - what? Excuse me, what?” Once Shane starts laughing, it takes him a long time to stop. Longer than Brendon, at least.
“You heard me.”
“Holy shit.” Shane is still smiling, the corners of his eyes all crinkled up. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I was born this way.” Brendon is flippant, fussing with Shane’s collar a little before stepping back. “There. Go forth into the world.”
“Thanks.”
-
Brendon gets an idea, after Shane leaves, one that involves spending twenty minutes looking for a Sharpie, and then after finding one looking for some in other colors. In the end, there aren’t as many as he wants so he heads to CVS and grabs a set of Crayolas and some posterboard, too, and some scissors as well. They probably have scissors back at the condo, but he’s a little paranoid after the marker debacle and doesn’t want to have to drive the trip to the drugstore twice.
After getting back, he grabs the camera and takes Dylan for a walk - he’s kind of wanted to film Dylan for a while, because Shane’s been teaching him a little about framing and composition and stuff, and it’s fun, and their dog is great. Brendon wants to be able to show home movies to his nieces and nephews, years from now.
Then he gets to work.
-
Shane gets a text from Brendon not to wait up that night, because of some band stuff - nothing interesting, sry ☹ apparently. The projector is set up, though, with film already loaded into it.
The screen is out, blocking the TV, with a note taped to it. Watch this!!!! ☺ is scrawled in Brendon’s half-legible handwriting.
Shane gets the projector running then settles onto the couch, because he doesn’t have anything else to do on a Tuesday night.
-
The film is grainy, colors a little washed out. The first thing that comes into focus is Brendon’s face, squinting at something very close to the lens as the shot wobbles. Then he’s lowering the camera down onto the table, and it’s clear he’s not wearing anything. Brendon backs away enough to reveal that he’s in the bedroom, and he sits on the bed, grinning. One of Brendon’s hands is cupped casually around his half-hard dick, and he waves with the other before -
The camera is pointed at the grass. Shane doesn’t want to know if Brendon edited that intentionally, or if something went wrong with the camera, or if he just recorded over the last shot or what. The picture is unsteady but it becomes clear relatively quickly that Brendon is filming Dylan out on a walk in the park.
This time there’s a little fumbling around before the scene ends, and a moment where the screen is blank.
Brendon’s sitting on their couch in the living room. From the angle, he probably had the camera propped next to the TV in the little media center. For a couple of seconds Brendon just grins - looking almost nervous - before picking up a sign. A stack of signs, actually, which is clear when he switches from Hi, Shane! to You’re cooler than the other side of the pillow!!!
Did you have a good day? is followed up with Even if you did hopefully this will make it better!!!
Then: Laws are made for breaking right?
And: Let’s rebel and do what we’re told!!
Brendon is using a lot of exclamation points on his signs. He’s also grinning like an idiot as he flips between them. He keeps having to brush his hair out of his face, and Shane thinks that later he’ll have to tell Brendon to go get a haircut if he isn’t going to bother trimming it himself. Maybe he’ll just buy Brendon some stupid hair clips instead, to rub it in. Whatever’s funniest.
The film is still playing.
So: Anyway we’ve known each other for years so we might as well
And: Do you want to marry me?? with Because I’d totally marry you and If that’s what you’re into.
The next sign is, We could say it was ironic or something. ;) and Shane isn’t sure how to take that. He’s not sure how to take any of this, but then there’s more footage of Dylan wandering around the park sniffing at trees. Brendon turns the camera away respectfully for a while to film a distant squirrel, and Shane can only guess what happened there.
Shane gets out his phone. He doesn’t let Brendon say anything first. "Dude, did you just try to propose to me ironically?"
“Tell me you wouldn’t get married ironically.”
“I think you’re the one who would do that.”
“But you’d go along with it,” Brendon says after a while, hesitant. “Because that’s what you do. Right?”
“I think marriage is probably better left unironic, man.”
“I mean, if you don’t want to,” Brendon says.
“I’m just trying to figure out if you’re kidding,” Shane says.
“Uhm. If you want me to be?”
"You know, irony killed the cat."
"I don't think it did. I think that was curiosity, and you're lying to me."
"It's called a joke," Shane says, laughing.
“Right. Yeah. Sorry, I - you know, nerves." Brendon pauses. "I wasn't actually kidding, I don’t think. Unless you think I should have been, but like, I would marry you unironically, if you were into that. But if not, you know. Totally ironic.”
“Yeah, okay.”
"Okay? Okay what?"
"Sure, fine," Shane says.
"That doesn't answer anything, Valdes. I can tell how smug you are over the phone, dude, stop it. Stop being smug. Dude."
"So what, would you say, is the most unironic form of marriage? Like, elopement? Having a big ceremony? What?"
"Shit, dude, I didn't think ahead that far," Brendon says. "I was stuck on the ironic version."
"Well, try thinking about the unironic version, then get back to me."
"I - okay, yeah, sure."