Chutes and Ladders [ryden, R, standalone]
Title: Chutes and Ladders
Author: silver_etoile
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: Third
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Never happened.
Summary: Brendon has an adventure in babysitting, although he should probably pay more attention to the kid than her older brother.
A/N: I really... yeah.
*
“We’ll be gone tonight and back tomorrow late, at the Shaloma Lodge and Spa, here’s the address.”
Brendon nodded as Mrs. Ross smiled at him and handed him a list of phone numbers. Her husband was grumbling to himself as dragged more suitcases out the front door and to the car in the driveway.
They stood in the foyer of the medium-sized house as the afternoon sun streamed in the door behind them. The television was on in the living room and a head of messy dark hair was just visible over the crest of the back of the couch.
“So I’m only staying for tonight?” Brendon glanced at the list (cell phones, doctor’s office, fire department).
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Ross assured him. “Her brother should be home sometime tonight… He’ll take over from there.”
Brendon nodded again. All he knew was that Mrs. Ross and his mother had met through some book club or something, and Brendon had been enlisted as babysitter for the weekend. He wasn’t complaining, though. He certainly needed the money.
“Rilee! Come here please!”
The head on the couch stirred and turned from the TV, slipping from the couch and trotting over. The girl was only about seven years old, and Brendon smiled at her.
Mrs. Ross turned to her. “Rilee, this is Brendon. He’ll be staying with you tonight.”
Brendon gave a little wave as the girl’s hazel eyes fell on him. Her face was speckled with freckles and she wrinkled her button nose.
“Do you like Chutes and Ladders?” she demanded, staring defiantly up at Brendon, who was slightly taken aback.
“Uh, yeah, it’s my most favorite game ever,” he responded, waiting as she eyed him up and down and then gave a short nod.
Mrs. Ross just sighed, handing one last bag to her husband as he made the last trip to the car. “She’s obsessed with the game,” she murmured to Brendon when Rilee peered out the door after her dad. “You’ll probably have to play a dozen or so games tonight.”
“That’s okay,” Brendon said, smiling. He loved board games.
Mrs. Ross paused as she looked at him and then smiled. “Well, looks like she’s in good hands. We should get going. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. What’s ours is yours tonight.”
“Thanks,” Brendon said, following her to the door where she hugged Rilee and instructed her in a perhaps ominous (to Brendon anyway) way to be good. “You don’t have a worry. She’ll be completely safe.”
Mrs. Ross smiled at him and called to her husband, who was already in the car, before turning back.
“All right. You have all the numbers. Her brother will be coming home some time tonight. I left a list of her favorite foods on the fridge, and you should have everything you need.”
“We will,” Brendon assured her. “Have fun on your weekend away.”
Mrs. Ross waved as she left for the car and Brendon found himself alone with Rilee in the doorway. The little girl was staring up at him, a slightly suspicious look on her face.
“So,” he said after a minute, once the car had disappeared around a distant corner. “What do you want to do?”
She stared for another minute until Brendon actually started to feel uncomfortable under her eyes. Then she grabbed his hand and pulled him back from the doorway.
“We’re going to play Chutes and Ladders,” she announced, and Brendon just had time to kick the door shut before Rilee dragged him back into the house.
*
Two hours later, Brendon had lost five games of Chutes and Ladders. Rilee seemed very pleased with herself every time she landed on a ladder. Brendon was beginning to think the game was fixed.
“Hey, how about I make dinner and then we watch a movie?” he suggested after the sixth headfirst slide down the chute into his sixth loss.
Rilee looked as if the prospect of stopping her winning streak wasn’t appealing, but she finally agreed when Brendon promised that she could pick the movie.
Swearing he heard his spine crack in two when he rose, Brendon struggled up from where he’d been sitting on the floor for the past two hours. Rubbing the back of his stiff neck, he partially limped - his foot had fallen asleep somewhere in between the third and fourth loss - into the kitchen. He obviously wasn’t a kid anymore, although he wouldn’t say eighteen was very old either.
The kitchen was kind of small, but the aforementioned list was taped to the refrigerator and Brendon managed to make an at least semi-nutritious meal. Rilee didn’t complain at any rate, eating her macaroni and cheese heartily.
“So do you have any homework?” he asked, poking his noodles and watching the cheese congeal.
Rilee stopped eating to give him a look. “I’m seven.”
“Right.” Brendon wondered where she got all these looks and the flat, sarcastic tone in her voice if she indeed was only seven. “So what do you like to do?”
Rilee shrugged, taking a big gulp of her milk. “Color, play dress-up, play Barbie.”
Brendon nodded slowly. He vaguely remembered his sisters doing the same thing at that age… and maybe he’d joined in a time or two.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“An astronaut,” she replied, frowning at the orange Brendon pushed onto her plate. “I’m going to go to college.”
“That’s good,” Brendon commented, wondering why a seven year old was thinking about college.
Rilee nodded. “I’m going to fly into space.”
Jumping off her chair, she ran around the table, her arms outstretched as though wings, making humming noises.
“Rilee,” Brendon interrupted as she passed him. “No flying until after you eat your orange.”
Pouting, Rilee dropped her arms and crawled back into her chair, picking at the orange instead of eating it.
“Do you go to college?” she asked, her big hazel eyes turning to him instead.
“Not yet,” Brendon admitted. He had to graduate high school first. “This fall.”
“What are you going to be?”
“I don’t know,” Brendon said after a minute and was surprised when Rilee laughed.
“You don’t know?” she asked. “But you’re old.”
“I’m only eighteen,” Brendon argued, but he knew that to a seven year old, eighteen was ancient.
“My brother doesn’t know either,” Rilee continued as though Brendon hadn’t spoken. “Mommy and daddy say he needs a focus.”
Brendon was almost one hundred percent sure that Rilee didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t comment on it.
“You know, you’ll be eighteen someday,” he said instead and watched as her eyes widened. The freckles stretched across her cheeks and sprinkled over her nose.
“Nu uh!” she argued adamantly.
“Yes, you will,” Brendon insisted, “and you might not know either.”
“I’m gonna be a astronaut!” Rilee cried indignantly.
Brendon just laughed and reached out to ruffle her hair, but she was pouting and ducked out of the way with a pointed glare. He ignored it, though, standing and gathering the plates.
“You better eat your orange or we’re not watching a movie tonight.” He stepped away from the table, glancing back to see with some satisfaction that she was resignedly pulling it apart and sticking it in her mouth.
*
The thing Brendon loved most about babysitting - aside from eating someone else’s food, watching someone else’s television, and getting away from his own parents - was that he could watch Disney movies without needing a legitimate excuse.
Rilee picked out Aladdin (Brendon’s all-time favorite) and had him put it in the player. She sat raptly on the couch and didn’t even reprimand Brendon when he started to sing along. He managed to get her laughing when he imitated Iago’s voice.
“You sound like a frog!” she cried, laughing.
“Do not!” Brendon argued, leaning forward and catching her stomach, tickling fiercely.
“No!” she cried, laughing so hard she started gasping for breath. “No!”
“Say I don’t sound like a frog!”
“Yes! Yes!” she yelled, taking gasping breaths when he smirked and sat back smugly.
“Glad you agree,” he said finally, a smug smirk on his face. The only response he got was a tiny pink tongue sticking out at him as Rilee turned back to the screen.
Getting Rilee to bed was harder than Brendon had anticipated.
After the movie, she complained about going to bed so early (it was nine, a half hour after her actual bed time, Brendon reminded her). She demanded glass after glass of water, and Brendon found himself reading Green Eggs and Ham about half a dozen times before her eyes finally closed and her breathing slowed.
Turning on the night light, Brendon slipped from the room, sighing into the empty hallway and feeling relieved.
The door was shut with a small click and Brendon headed back to the living room where the end credits were still rolling. He debated sticking in another Disney movie, but opted instead to surf the hundreds of satellite channels.
Of course, there was nothing on.
In the end, Brendon settled on watching Titanic on TNT. He’d seen it God knew how many times, but he just couldn’t resist when Leonardo DiCaprio was looking at him like that. Brendon sunk down onto the comfy couch, a soda beside him and popcorn on the coffee table.
The movie was especially long with all the commercials and by the time it ended, it was well past midnight. Brendon was tired, but didn’t really feel like dragging himself to the guest bedroom quite yet, and so settled for flipping through the channels, pausing here and there on one of the many infomercials showing on late-night TV.
He was watching as the guy cut through the soda can with a knife when a noise from the entrance way caught his attention. It sounded like someone stumbling, which he decided to be right when a voice accompanied it, hushed and dark.
“Ow, fuck!” It was hissed out in the dark and more stumbling noises came.
Turning around carefully, Brendon sincerely hoped it wasn’t some murder serial killer that had gotten through the locked door without him hearing.
Then he heard the unmistakable sounds of keys dropping on the wood floor and knew it couldn’t be.
Peeking over the back of the couch, Brendon watched as a dark figure weaved in from the foyer, knocking into a table and cursing as a box fell to the floor with a loud snap. The figure didn’t bend over to pick it up, though, just continued.
“Um,” Brendon said when the figure nearly ran into the doorframe to the kitchen.
The response wasn’t immediate, but he could see a head turning back, obviously squinting in the dark.
“Who the fuck are you?” came a male voice, a little slurred, but otherwise very clear in its meaning.
“I’m Brendon,” Brendon said slowly. “I’m guessing you’re the brother?”
There was a pause while the figure remained turned toward Brendon, his features obscured by the darkness. The glowing light of the television didn’t quite extend that far into the room.
“Ah,” came the voice again, slower this time, more understanding. “The babysitter.”
“Um, yeah,” Brendon agreed. He wasn’t sure to make of this brother. “You’re Rilee’s brother, right?”
“Half-brother.” The correction was sharp and Brendon caught a hint of the same tone Rilee had used earlier when stating that she was only seven. The boy moved from the kitchen doorframe, tripping over where the flooring changed from wood to carpet. His features came into view in the blue-ish wash from the television.
Brendon could see a little bit of Rilee in his dark hair and eyes, but he had no freckles decorating his cheeks. Brendon thought it was kind of a shame. He didn’t say anything, though, taking in the rest of him.
He was thin, wearing black jeans and a sort of vest. His hair was a mess and the makeup around his eyes was long smudged. He was watching Brendon with a sort of cool indifference that didn’t quite work when he was obviously drunk.
“My dad left when I was nine, so my mom remarried the first guy she met,” the guy replied, his tone flat but cool. “They had a kid. Voila.”
Brendon wasn’t sure what to say as the guy rounded the couch, still staring down at Brendon as though he hadn’t expected to find him there.
“What’s your name?” he asked finally.
“Ryan,” the guy huffed, practically falling onto the couch. He reached for a handful of popcorn without asking, but Brendon didn’t stop him.
“Ryan?” Brendon repeated. “And Rilee?”
He saw the way Ryan rolled his eyes, crunching on the popcorn. “Yeah, mom thought it would be cute.” It was obvious from his tone that he thought it was anything but.
Brendon smiled as he recognized the same expression Rilee had worn earlier when Brendon had nearly beaten her in Chutes and Ladders. He would have too if it hadn’t been for that damn chute.
“What are you smiling at?” Ryan asked, frowning and blinking as he pulled back to stare at his fingers, shiny with butter from the popcorn. Bringing the digits to his mouth, he sucked on each.
Brendon found himself staring as Ryan licked at his fingers. Jerking himself back, he looked away quickly.
“Nothing,” he said hastily.
Ryan’s eyes were narrowed as he pulled back to look Brendon over. “You’re kind of old for babysitting.”
“I’m eighteen.” Brendon shrugged. He wasn’t sure he imagined the spark in Ryan’s eyes at the words. “You’re her bro-half-brother, why didn’t you do it?”
Ryan snorted, laughing darkly. “Please. My parents don’t trust me with her. I can barely do anything with myself.”
“They’re trusting you with her tomorrow.”
Ryan waved him away. “Only because they’ll be back tomorrow afternoon and I can’t possibly fuck her up in a span of hours unless I lose her or something.”
Frowning, Brendon picked at a few pieces of popcorn. “So where were you tonight?”
Ryan’s unfocused gaze slid back to him, but it might have been sharper now. “Out with friends,” he replied, his tone calm and collected as though it was a line he used a lot. “I’m nineteen. I’m not seven anymore.”
“Do you live here?” Brendon asked curiously. He hadn’t really seen anything in the house that would indicate a nineteen year old boy living there.
“Only when I can’t pay rent,” Ryan replied. “So as little as possible.” He scrubbed at his hair, then paused, looking at Brendon. “You ask a lot of questions. You’re worse than Rilee.”
Brendon smiled at that, noticing how Ryan’s eyes were drawn to his mouth slowly.
“She’s a good kid. A little demanding, but I think I’m starting to understand where she gets that from.”
Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed, and though he was drunk, he seemed to put things together fairly quickly. The speed at which he shifted surprised Brendon, and he didn’t know quite what to do when Ryan’s body was pressed up against his almost challengingly.
“What does that mean?” he asked, a finger pressing into Brendon’s chest.
Swallowing nervously, Brendon fished for an answer. “Nothing. It’s just that you guys are sort of similar.”
Ryan glared but didn’t move back, pressed chest to chest with Brendon, his finger pressing harder until it almost hurt, but then it slipped up his shirt, tracing a line slowly up to his neck.
Brendon didn’t know what to do and waited, watching Ryan carefully. He could smell the alcohol on his breath now and watched the way the light from the TV flickered over his face.
Ryan’s finger moved, sliding up Brendon’s neck until it paused over his pulse. Brendon was positive that Ryan could feel how hard it was beating as he silently panicked. He didn’t know Ryan at all, and with the way he was pressed against him, so warm in the cold night air, his musky, alcohol-drenched breath fogging over his cheek, he couldn’t be blamed for being slightly scared, and maybe a little aroused all at the same time.
“I’m not like her,” Ryan finally growled, licking his lips and breathing out hard against Brendon’s cheek.
Brendon shook his head slowly. “No, she’s like you.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t refute it. He blinked, eyes flitting over Brendon’s face, until a smirk colored his expression and his finger finally slid up from Brendon’s pulse to stroke a tiny patch behind his ear. If Brendon hadn’t been scared that Ryan was going to kill him, he might have found it enjoyable, and maybe he did anyway when Ryan shifted, pushing himself up so that he was actually straddling Brendon’s lap and not just practically lying on top of him.
The pressure on Brendon’s chest eased and he could almost breathe normally again, except for the little matter that Ryan was still looming over him. His eyes had darkened, though, and his finger was still on Brendon’s neck.
“Does Rilee like you?” he asked finally, his mouth close enough to Brendon’s ear that he could feel the moisture of his breath, the warmth ghosting over the shell, encompassing his skin that buzzed slightly.
“I think I won her over,” Brendon replied, not admitting that his voice shook. “I lost, like, a billion games of Chutes and Ladders.”
“That just means you suck at board games,” Ryan murmured. His finger was still stroking slowly but Brendon refused to let his eyes flutter closed at the soft touch, no matter how much he wanted to. “But that would win her over.”
“D-do you ever lose?” Brendon asked, trying not to choke on his own words as nerves clouded his judgment. He could feel the way Ryan loomed over him, hips hovering just above him while their bodies touched in other places.
“Not on purpose,” Ryan whispered. His thumb brushed behind Brendon’s ear and Brendon couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through his body at the light touch. Ryan seemed to notice as a small smirk appeared on his face. Shifting forward, he brought his mouth up to Brendon’s ear, so close his lips brushed over it when he next spoke. “But it’s easier to cheat when they can’t count higher than ten.”
“Ch-cheating is wrong?” Brendon managed to choke out against Ryan’s mouth pressed to his ear. It came out more like a question than anything and Ryan laughed, low and smooth.
“Yeah, sure,” he murmured back.
Brendon froze as he felt Ryan’s nose, cold and dry, pressing behind his ear, and the soft sound Ryan let out, his breath hot over Brendon’s neck.
“You know, you’re cuter than any of the other babysitters,” Ryan mumbled, syllables slurring and his thumb slipping on Brendon’s neck. “Less like a girl too.”
“Um, I’m not a girl?” Brendon said, again cursing himself as it came out sounding like a question.
“No,” Ryan muttered, lips brushing against Brendon’s neck softly. “You’re not.”
“You’re-” Brendon paused, taking a sharp breath when Ryan’s nose disappeared and his mouth replaced it, tongue tracing a circle on his neck. “You’re kind of drunk.”
“And you’re kinda not,” Ryan replied, sinking his teeth lightly into Brendon’s neck so that he jumped, but didn’t push hastily at his arms. “And you haven’t stopped me yet, so I’m gonna take that as a yes, you do like guys, and yeah, you’re not gonna tell me to fuck off.”
“I could,” Brendon offered weakly, but he knew it wasn’t true.
It wasn’t as though a lot of people knew he preferred guys - he certainly hadn’t told his parents at any rate. So his prospects were very slim considering who he hung out with at school.
“You won’t,” Ryan said, and he sounded so sure that Brendon just had to agree.
“What about…” He stopped when Ryan’s hips dropped down for the first time, taking a shaky breath and licking his lips slowly. “Rilee.”
“Hmm?” Ryan asked, words smashed against Brendon’s neck as he bit him again, sucking hard on the skin.
Brendon’s eyes fluttered shut but he jerked them open again. He couldn’t do this. It was wrong.
“Ryan, Ryan, stop,” he said, pushing fruitlessly at Ryan. It didn’t appear to work, but Ryan pulled back at his words anyway.
“What?” he asked impatiently, raising a finger to the reddened spot on Brendon’s neck and tracing it slowly. Brendon only jerked a little at the touch.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he whispered, his voice lacking the conviction he wished it had.
Ryan’s rolled eyes were just visible in the flickering blue light of the TV. “Maybe you shouldn’t, but I want to.”
Leaning in again, he drew his hips up this time, rocking slowly into Brendon, dragging the friction of the jeans tight against Brendon’s skin. Brendon’s eyes shot open wide as he felt Ryan’s cock, already hard, pressed against his hips.
“Ryan,” he said nervously, his hand reached for Ryan’s odd vest, feeling a smooth silk under his fingers.
Ryan didn’t stop the movement, using his whole body to rock against Brendon. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done this,” he breathed, words harsh in the room. His hair flopped into his face, but he just shook it back, leaning into Brendon’s ear and taking it in between his teeth.
“N-no,” Brendon stuttered, taking a sharp breath as Ryan’s tongue dipped into his ear. “I just don’t think-”
“That’s your problem then,” Ryan interrupted, mouth still drifting over Brendon’s ear even as Brendon let out a small whimper. Ryan’s smirk was momentary, and his hand dropped from Brendon’s neck to his lap, pressing down sharply as Brendon gasped for breath. “Looks like you’ve got another problem too.”
Brendon didn’t say anything as Ryan’s hand pressed down against his cock, shielded by a layer of jeans and boxers. Instead, he let out a breathless whimper and his hand tightened on Ryan’s vest.
“Fuck,” he cursed in a rush of air, his eyes sliding shut and his head falling back against the arm of the couch.
“Maybe later,” came the mumble from somewhere around his collar bone.
Ryan’s mouth was warm against his tee shirt, and his hand found ways to rock into his cock just at the right angle so that Brendon was arching up into him. Bites were pressed into his skin over his tee shirt and Brendon wasn’t sure if that was completely hot or if he was just really desperate for something that didn’t involve hay rides or church-sponsored activities.
Ryan was sliding further down, and Brendon bemoaned the loss of friction when his hips slid away and his hand moved to the zipper, tugging it down.
Brendon was hard by now and could feel the blood rushing down, pulsing deep in his cock as he struggled to retain a sense of reality. The moment Ryan’s hand shoved down his boxers, though, and slid over the hot skin of his prick, he lost any rational thoughts he might have had about Rilee or Ryan’s parents and that this was their house and he was the babysitter.
Swallowing hard, he tilted his head down to be able to see.
The flickering light from the infomercial cast a blue and white glow over Ryan’s features as he leaned forward, his mouth stretching wide and his tongue flicking over the head of Brendon’s cock. Ryan’s eyes were on Brendon’s and he caught the devious flicker that might have been a trick of the light.
“Oh,” Brendon panted, his fingers tightening over what part of the couch cushions he could grab as Ryan moved in, his mouth sliding over the hot skin.
It had been a while since Brendon had done this, and the last time hadn’t been so great. Getting drunk at a party and cornering the nearest gay guy didn’t always have the best results. Brendon could still remember the teeth and the pain.
Ryan, however, was nothing like the other had been, despite being drunk. He was smooth and didn’t fumble for the right grip as he sucked on Brendon’s dick. His fist curled around the base and stroked down short and fast until Brendon was biting his lip hard to muffle the noises that would surely wake Rilee just down the hall.
Ryan hummed around his cock, sending vibrations up his skin. Brendon squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth falling open as he panted. Ryan’s tongue was wet and slick, tonguing into the slit as Brendon struggled to hold on.
“Ry-Ryan,” he gasped when Ryan’s hand uncurled from around his prick and slipped down to rub over his balls slowly, thumb stroking down.
Ryan didn’t pull away or speak, sucking hard until Brendon’s hips were jerking up and he was mumbling nonsense, trying to warn Ryan. His hand went for Ryan’s hair, twisting and tugging desperately as he arched up, thrusting into Ryan’s hot mouth as he came.
Ryan didn’t move back, licking up Brendon’s release, even as Brendon’s hips slid down again and his grip in Ryan’s hair lessened.
“Sorry,” he whispered, releasing the locks and brushing them back slightly. His breath came back slowly, and he could feel Ryan’s hands, warm on his thighs, as he pushed himself up, sliding back into his lap.
“S’okay,” Ryan murmured, chest pressed against Brendon’s again but it wasn’t quite as suffocating as before. His mouth moved to Brendon’s neck, sucking on the same place as before until it was hot and red under his tongue. “Hey,” he muttered, thrusting his hips against Brendon’s thigh and Brendon’s eyes widened again. “Let me fuck you.”
“Wh-what?” Brendon asked, a slight thrill of both panic and excitement running through him.
“Come on,” Ryan whispered. “I sucked you off. Just let me.”
Brendon wasn’t sure it was a fair trade, especially since he’d never quite gone all the way. “Can’t I just…?” he asked, his hand sliding down to Ryan’s jeans and cupping his erection carefully. Ryan’s hips thrust into his hand, and his breath was hot against Brendon’s neck.
“Fuck, yeah, just-just,” Ryan panted, teeth scraping over Brendon’s jaw, and Brendon took that as a yes.
He fumbled with the button and got his hand underneath with only a little difficulty, hoping his hand wasn’t shaking in his nerves. Ryan only arched into his touch, though, so Brendon took it as a good sign.
He stroked quickly, doing things he knew he liked - the flick of the wrist, a thumb smearing the pre-cum at the tip of Ryan’s cock. It felt almost strange to do it to someone else, but that didn’t stop Brendon. He worked hard at it, careful not to hold too tightly, although when Ryan whined into his shoulder, fingers tightening over his arm, and “fuck, harder,” came out in a rush of air, Brendon did as he was told.
Ryan was practically on top of him, mouth and nose pressed into the juncture between Brendon’s neck and shoulder. He felt the occasional nip of teeth scraped over skin, sure to leave marks for the next morning.
Brendon didn’t stop to think how he would explain it to his parents, though, just stroked Ryan harder, slicking up and down his cock until he felt Ryan’s hips stutter in his grip and the warm, wet liquid spreading over his hands.
Ryan’s breath was harsh but quiet, let slip through gritted teeth as he slid down in Brendon’s grip, breathing hard against his neck.
Swallowing, Brendon pulled his hand away slowly, quietly inspecting the shiny liquid visible in the blue glow. He didn’t know what to do now as Ryan lay against him, still smelling like beer and stale cigarettes, his hair more mussed than ever and his cheeks flushed red.
After what felt like hours, although it was probably more like five minutes, Ryan shifted, pushing himself up and staring at Brendon.
Brendon’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he stared back. Ryan was close, close enough to brush their noses together, close enough that if Brendon just inclined forward less than an inch, their mouths would meet and he might be able to taste the beer rather than just smell it.
Ryan’s eyes were still glazed and his breath was still hot on Brendon’s skin. He blinked, though, inclining forward just barely, and Brendon held his breath. He could feel the kiss on the air and licked his lip again, staring into Ryan’s dark eyes. Moving forward, he was close enough to feel Ryan’s breath on his lips, hot and moist. Swallowing, he waited nervously for Ryan to close the distance.
But it never came. Instead, Ryan moved his mouth, his lips trailing along Brendon’s cheek as he spoke.
“Fuck, I need to sleep,” he muttered, sighing long and pushing away from Brendon without a second glance. He clambered up off the couch, obviously still tipsy from the way he stumbled to the side and cursed as he hit the coffee table.
Brendon watched him disappear down the hallway in relative disbelief. Alone in the living room with only the flickering TV, Brendon sighed and clicked the power button. Darkness fell around him and he wondered if he’d be able to sleep now.
*
Brendon wasn’t sure how much he actually slept in the lumpy guest bed. Maybe it hadn’t been lumpy and he just hadn’t been able to sleep, replaying Ryan’s actions only hours before. He spent many hours alternating between staring at the red alarm clock (which changed only two minutes at a time it seemed - two fifty-three a.m., two fifty-five a.m., two fifty-seven a.m.) and the ceiling that was dark except for the slit of moonlight that crept in through the curtain.
The last time he remembered was three twenty-two a.m. before his eyes were opening and the slit of moonlight had turned into a full blown blast of sunlight dancing across the ceiling. Groaning, he turned over and hid his face in the pillows, completely not ready for the day. He didn’t want to face Ryan, who probably didn’t even remember anything.
When he finally was awake enough, he poked his head out of the pillow to squint at the red letters that didn’t seem so threatening in the light. They read eight thirty-seven a.m. Sighing, Brendon really didn’t want to get up, but he knew that he had to feed Rilee and probably himself, if not Ryan as well.
Rolling out of bed, he tugged on a clean shirt and eyed his jeans. They were his only pair since he hadn’t counted on needing another. There were no stains on them that he could see, but he just felt weird wearing them out to where Ryan would probably be.
Still, though, he had no other pants, so he pulled them on and hoped no one would notice anything. He’d be going home in a matter of hours anyway. Rilee’s parents were due home that afternoon, and Ryan could take care of Rilee for now.
Telling himself to get a grip, Brendon opened the bedroom door and padded down to the kitchen, careful not to make noise.
The smell of coffee met his nose before he even stepped foot into the living room. He was surprised. He hadn’t expected Ryan to be up before noon after last night. He was wrong, though, when he stepped into the doorway to the kitchen to find Ryan up, hair a mussed mess, and eyeliner still smudged under his eyes. He was wearing a pair of low slung pajama pants and thin tee shirt with no shoes or socks.
“Um,” Brendon said as he stopped in the doorway and Ryan turned to him. Brendon wondered if he should say anything, but Ryan spoke first.
“I made coffee.” He nodded at the pot brewing on the opposite counter and Brendon nodded.
“I don’t really drink coffee,” he muttered quietly, but Ryan didn’t probe him about it like other people usually did. Instead, he just shrugged and poured himself a cup, opening the fridge door and staring inside for a good five minutes before sighing and shutting it.
He didn’t even acknowledge Brendon as he sunk down onto one of the stools at the breakfast counter. He only sipped his coffee fortifyingly.
The silence wasn’t awkward, but Brendon was sure it was going to be soon if he didn’t say something. He had to know if Ryan even remembered.
Just as he opened his mouth, Rilee appeared in the doorway, rubbing at her eyes and yawning. She stopped, though, as she caught sight of Ryan.
“Ryan!” she cried, running to him and hugging him tightly.
Despite the early hour and what was obviously a wince caused by a hangover, Ryan managed a smile and hugged her back. “Hey, Riles. What’s up?”
Rilee grinned. “Brendon sucks at Chutes and Ladders.”
“I do not,” Brendon protested, but Rilee was smirking knowingly and Brendon didn’t even have to wonder who she got that from as he glanced at Ryan. Ryan wasn’t smirking, but his coffee cup was up to his mouth and the corners were turned up.
“Brendon, huh?” Ryan asked and Brendon felt his heart sinking.
Rilee nodded again. “He lost six times.”
“How do you know I wasn’t just letting you win?” Brendon countered but Rilee gave him a knowing look.
“Because no one loses that much on purpose. Besides, I can count.” She directed this to Ryan, who didn’t respond, sipping more coffee. “Ryan always cheats.”
“Do not,” Ryan muttered but Rilee ignored him.
“Brendon, what’s for breakfast?”
“Uh…” Brendon paused, hesitating to move over to the fridge since Ryan was standing right next to it as he refilled his coffee. “Let’s see.”
Trying to ignore how Ryan’s eyes watched him round the counter to the fridge, he pulled it open and looked inside.
“How about eggs?” he asked and Rilee made a negative noise, something between sticking out her tongue and making a choking noise. “Okay, or not.” He looked again. “Waffles?” he asked, spotting a package deep in the freezer.
“Yeah!” Rilee cried, and Brendon dug it out, only dropping frozen meat on his foot once and hopping a little as he picked it up and shoved it back in.
When he got the waffles out and the door shut, he turned to find Ryan giving him an amused glance. Brendon didn’t know what to make of it, and so just turned to the toaster, making the waffles.
When Rilee was settled happily with her waffles covered in about a gallon of syrup at the dining room table, Brendon sighed and rested against the kitchen counter.
Ryan hadn’t said much while he’d made breakfast, only answered a few of Rilee’s questions about how long he was staying (until mom and Rich got back then he had to get back to school), and yes, he’d play Chutes and Ladders with her later.
“So,” Brendon said awkwardly once Rilee was occupied with her food. “I guess I should go soon. I, uh, have a paper to write for English.”
Ryan didn’t reply for a minute but set down his empty coffee cup. “My mom called,” he said after a minute. “They’re gonna stay an extra day.”
“Oh.” Brendon paused. He wasn’t sure what that had to do with him. Ryan was there now. He could take care of Rilee.
Ryan was watching him as he set down the cup and turned towards him. “Brendon,” he said after a minute, and Brendon glanced up.
“Yeah?”
Ryan moved, the same speed as the night before making itself apparent as he was in front of Brendon before he could even blink. His hands boxed him in against the counter but he wasn’t close enough to touch him.
“How would you feel about making a couple extra bucks?”
Brendon paused, frowning slightly. “You want me to watch Rilee again today?”
“No.” Ryan shook his head, sliding forward, and Brendon could feel the warmth of his body. He didn’t smell like alcohol now. He’d obviously showered and smelled vaguely of strawberry and coffee. “I want you to stay here and play Chutes and Ladders.”
Brendon was still confused, and things didn’t get much clearer when Ryan moved in, kissing him. His eyes widened as he felt Ryan’s mouth against his, a tongue sliding against his lips, licking its way in as Brendon parted his lips and closed his eyes. Ryan tasted like coffee and sugar, warm and sweet.
Brendon was particularly glad that Rilee’s back was turned toward the kitchen as Ryan slid closer, a heavy hand resting on Brendon’s hip as he kissed him deeper. Their noses bumped together and lips slid together. Ryan’s tongue traced Brendon’s bottom lip before he sucked on it lightly.
“Ryan,” Brendon broke away with a whisper, staring at Ryan. In the light, he could see that Ryan’s eyes were the exact shade as Rilee’s. “What are you doing?”
“Finishing what I started,” Ryan replied simply, kissing the corner of Brendon’s mouth. He smirked as he stepped back and Brendon wasn’t sure what to make of it. He figured it couldn’t be bad, though, as Ryan stepped past him, his hand brushing against his lightly.
Brendon followed him to the dining room table where Rilee was on her second waffle. She looked up, though, as they entered, looking from Ryan’s coolly indifferent expression to Brendon, who was having a harder time hiding his smile.
“What’s on your neck?” she asked suddenly, and Brendon’s fingers went up to the mark Ryan had so thoughtfully left there the night before.
“Um,” he started to say, but was saved by Ryan.
“Good news, Riles,” he said, ruffling her hair just as Brendon had tried to do the day before, and she ducked and pushed his hand away just as she had before. “Brendon’s gonna stay and play some Chutes and Ladders with us.”
Rilee looked at him carefully, almost like she knew they were hiding something, but in the end, she shrugged happily and stabbed at her waffle.
“As long as you don’t cheat,” she told Ryan, who shook his head.
“I never cheat,” he replied and Rilee didn’t look convinced, going back to her breakfast.
Brendon met Ryan’s gaze behind her back and couldn’t help smiling softly despite when Ryan walked by minutes later, brushing against his side again and whispering in his ear.
“If you don’t cheat, I’ll give you something more to remember me by.” He drew a light finger over the hickey on Brendon’s neck and Brendon didn’t stop the shiver that ran down his spine.
Brendon just smiled and watched Ryan until he disappeared into the living room.
“Come on, Rilee,” Brendon said. “Let’s go play some Chutes and Ladders. You are so going down.”
“In your dreams,” she shot back, flouncing off to the living room with Ryan.
As Brendon set the dirty dishes in the sink, he just thought that he could get used to this babysitting thing.
*
FIN.
Author: silver_etoile
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: Third
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Never happened.
Summary: Brendon has an adventure in babysitting, although he should probably pay more attention to the kid than her older brother.
A/N: I really... yeah.
*
“We’ll be gone tonight and back tomorrow late, at the Shaloma Lodge and Spa, here’s the address.”
Brendon nodded as Mrs. Ross smiled at him and handed him a list of phone numbers. Her husband was grumbling to himself as dragged more suitcases out the front door and to the car in the driveway.
They stood in the foyer of the medium-sized house as the afternoon sun streamed in the door behind them. The television was on in the living room and a head of messy dark hair was just visible over the crest of the back of the couch.
“So I’m only staying for tonight?” Brendon glanced at the list (cell phones, doctor’s office, fire department).
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Ross assured him. “Her brother should be home sometime tonight… He’ll take over from there.”
Brendon nodded again. All he knew was that Mrs. Ross and his mother had met through some book club or something, and Brendon had been enlisted as babysitter for the weekend. He wasn’t complaining, though. He certainly needed the money.
“Rilee! Come here please!”
The head on the couch stirred and turned from the TV, slipping from the couch and trotting over. The girl was only about seven years old, and Brendon smiled at her.
Mrs. Ross turned to her. “Rilee, this is Brendon. He’ll be staying with you tonight.”
Brendon gave a little wave as the girl’s hazel eyes fell on him. Her face was speckled with freckles and she wrinkled her button nose.
“Do you like Chutes and Ladders?” she demanded, staring defiantly up at Brendon, who was slightly taken aback.
“Uh, yeah, it’s my most favorite game ever,” he responded, waiting as she eyed him up and down and then gave a short nod.
Mrs. Ross just sighed, handing one last bag to her husband as he made the last trip to the car. “She’s obsessed with the game,” she murmured to Brendon when Rilee peered out the door after her dad. “You’ll probably have to play a dozen or so games tonight.”
“That’s okay,” Brendon said, smiling. He loved board games.
Mrs. Ross paused as she looked at him and then smiled. “Well, looks like she’s in good hands. We should get going. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. What’s ours is yours tonight.”
“Thanks,” Brendon said, following her to the door where she hugged Rilee and instructed her in a perhaps ominous (to Brendon anyway) way to be good. “You don’t have a worry. She’ll be completely safe.”
Mrs. Ross smiled at him and called to her husband, who was already in the car, before turning back.
“All right. You have all the numbers. Her brother will be coming home some time tonight. I left a list of her favorite foods on the fridge, and you should have everything you need.”
“We will,” Brendon assured her. “Have fun on your weekend away.”
Mrs. Ross waved as she left for the car and Brendon found himself alone with Rilee in the doorway. The little girl was staring up at him, a slightly suspicious look on her face.
“So,” he said after a minute, once the car had disappeared around a distant corner. “What do you want to do?”
She stared for another minute until Brendon actually started to feel uncomfortable under her eyes. Then she grabbed his hand and pulled him back from the doorway.
“We’re going to play Chutes and Ladders,” she announced, and Brendon just had time to kick the door shut before Rilee dragged him back into the house.
*
Two hours later, Brendon had lost five games of Chutes and Ladders. Rilee seemed very pleased with herself every time she landed on a ladder. Brendon was beginning to think the game was fixed.
“Hey, how about I make dinner and then we watch a movie?” he suggested after the sixth headfirst slide down the chute into his sixth loss.
Rilee looked as if the prospect of stopping her winning streak wasn’t appealing, but she finally agreed when Brendon promised that she could pick the movie.
Swearing he heard his spine crack in two when he rose, Brendon struggled up from where he’d been sitting on the floor for the past two hours. Rubbing the back of his stiff neck, he partially limped - his foot had fallen asleep somewhere in between the third and fourth loss - into the kitchen. He obviously wasn’t a kid anymore, although he wouldn’t say eighteen was very old either.
The kitchen was kind of small, but the aforementioned list was taped to the refrigerator and Brendon managed to make an at least semi-nutritious meal. Rilee didn’t complain at any rate, eating her macaroni and cheese heartily.
“So do you have any homework?” he asked, poking his noodles and watching the cheese congeal.
Rilee stopped eating to give him a look. “I’m seven.”
“Right.” Brendon wondered where she got all these looks and the flat, sarcastic tone in her voice if she indeed was only seven. “So what do you like to do?”
Rilee shrugged, taking a big gulp of her milk. “Color, play dress-up, play Barbie.”
Brendon nodded slowly. He vaguely remembered his sisters doing the same thing at that age… and maybe he’d joined in a time or two.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“An astronaut,” she replied, frowning at the orange Brendon pushed onto her plate. “I’m going to go to college.”
“That’s good,” Brendon commented, wondering why a seven year old was thinking about college.
Rilee nodded. “I’m going to fly into space.”
Jumping off her chair, she ran around the table, her arms outstretched as though wings, making humming noises.
“Rilee,” Brendon interrupted as she passed him. “No flying until after you eat your orange.”
Pouting, Rilee dropped her arms and crawled back into her chair, picking at the orange instead of eating it.
“Do you go to college?” she asked, her big hazel eyes turning to him instead.
“Not yet,” Brendon admitted. He had to graduate high school first. “This fall.”
“What are you going to be?”
“I don’t know,” Brendon said after a minute and was surprised when Rilee laughed.
“You don’t know?” she asked. “But you’re old.”
“I’m only eighteen,” Brendon argued, but he knew that to a seven year old, eighteen was ancient.
“My brother doesn’t know either,” Rilee continued as though Brendon hadn’t spoken. “Mommy and daddy say he needs a focus.”
Brendon was almost one hundred percent sure that Rilee didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t comment on it.
“You know, you’ll be eighteen someday,” he said instead and watched as her eyes widened. The freckles stretched across her cheeks and sprinkled over her nose.
“Nu uh!” she argued adamantly.
“Yes, you will,” Brendon insisted, “and you might not know either.”
“I’m gonna be a astronaut!” Rilee cried indignantly.
Brendon just laughed and reached out to ruffle her hair, but she was pouting and ducked out of the way with a pointed glare. He ignored it, though, standing and gathering the plates.
“You better eat your orange or we’re not watching a movie tonight.” He stepped away from the table, glancing back to see with some satisfaction that she was resignedly pulling it apart and sticking it in her mouth.
*
The thing Brendon loved most about babysitting - aside from eating someone else’s food, watching someone else’s television, and getting away from his own parents - was that he could watch Disney movies without needing a legitimate excuse.
Rilee picked out Aladdin (Brendon’s all-time favorite) and had him put it in the player. She sat raptly on the couch and didn’t even reprimand Brendon when he started to sing along. He managed to get her laughing when he imitated Iago’s voice.
“You sound like a frog!” she cried, laughing.
“Do not!” Brendon argued, leaning forward and catching her stomach, tickling fiercely.
“No!” she cried, laughing so hard she started gasping for breath. “No!”
“Say I don’t sound like a frog!”
“Yes! Yes!” she yelled, taking gasping breaths when he smirked and sat back smugly.
“Glad you agree,” he said finally, a smug smirk on his face. The only response he got was a tiny pink tongue sticking out at him as Rilee turned back to the screen.
Getting Rilee to bed was harder than Brendon had anticipated.
After the movie, she complained about going to bed so early (it was nine, a half hour after her actual bed time, Brendon reminded her). She demanded glass after glass of water, and Brendon found himself reading Green Eggs and Ham about half a dozen times before her eyes finally closed and her breathing slowed.
Turning on the night light, Brendon slipped from the room, sighing into the empty hallway and feeling relieved.
The door was shut with a small click and Brendon headed back to the living room where the end credits were still rolling. He debated sticking in another Disney movie, but opted instead to surf the hundreds of satellite channels.
Of course, there was nothing on.
In the end, Brendon settled on watching Titanic on TNT. He’d seen it God knew how many times, but he just couldn’t resist when Leonardo DiCaprio was looking at him like that. Brendon sunk down onto the comfy couch, a soda beside him and popcorn on the coffee table.
The movie was especially long with all the commercials and by the time it ended, it was well past midnight. Brendon was tired, but didn’t really feel like dragging himself to the guest bedroom quite yet, and so settled for flipping through the channels, pausing here and there on one of the many infomercials showing on late-night TV.
He was watching as the guy cut through the soda can with a knife when a noise from the entrance way caught his attention. It sounded like someone stumbling, which he decided to be right when a voice accompanied it, hushed and dark.
“Ow, fuck!” It was hissed out in the dark and more stumbling noises came.
Turning around carefully, Brendon sincerely hoped it wasn’t some murder serial killer that had gotten through the locked door without him hearing.
Then he heard the unmistakable sounds of keys dropping on the wood floor and knew it couldn’t be.
Peeking over the back of the couch, Brendon watched as a dark figure weaved in from the foyer, knocking into a table and cursing as a box fell to the floor with a loud snap. The figure didn’t bend over to pick it up, though, just continued.
“Um,” Brendon said when the figure nearly ran into the doorframe to the kitchen.
The response wasn’t immediate, but he could see a head turning back, obviously squinting in the dark.
“Who the fuck are you?” came a male voice, a little slurred, but otherwise very clear in its meaning.
“I’m Brendon,” Brendon said slowly. “I’m guessing you’re the brother?”
There was a pause while the figure remained turned toward Brendon, his features obscured by the darkness. The glowing light of the television didn’t quite extend that far into the room.
“Ah,” came the voice again, slower this time, more understanding. “The babysitter.”
“Um, yeah,” Brendon agreed. He wasn’t sure to make of this brother. “You’re Rilee’s brother, right?”
“Half-brother.” The correction was sharp and Brendon caught a hint of the same tone Rilee had used earlier when stating that she was only seven. The boy moved from the kitchen doorframe, tripping over where the flooring changed from wood to carpet. His features came into view in the blue-ish wash from the television.
Brendon could see a little bit of Rilee in his dark hair and eyes, but he had no freckles decorating his cheeks. Brendon thought it was kind of a shame. He didn’t say anything, though, taking in the rest of him.
He was thin, wearing black jeans and a sort of vest. His hair was a mess and the makeup around his eyes was long smudged. He was watching Brendon with a sort of cool indifference that didn’t quite work when he was obviously drunk.
“My dad left when I was nine, so my mom remarried the first guy she met,” the guy replied, his tone flat but cool. “They had a kid. Voila.”
Brendon wasn’t sure what to say as the guy rounded the couch, still staring down at Brendon as though he hadn’t expected to find him there.
“What’s your name?” he asked finally.
“Ryan,” the guy huffed, practically falling onto the couch. He reached for a handful of popcorn without asking, but Brendon didn’t stop him.
“Ryan?” Brendon repeated. “And Rilee?”
He saw the way Ryan rolled his eyes, crunching on the popcorn. “Yeah, mom thought it would be cute.” It was obvious from his tone that he thought it was anything but.
Brendon smiled as he recognized the same expression Rilee had worn earlier when Brendon had nearly beaten her in Chutes and Ladders. He would have too if it hadn’t been for that damn chute.
“What are you smiling at?” Ryan asked, frowning and blinking as he pulled back to stare at his fingers, shiny with butter from the popcorn. Bringing the digits to his mouth, he sucked on each.
Brendon found himself staring as Ryan licked at his fingers. Jerking himself back, he looked away quickly.
“Nothing,” he said hastily.
Ryan’s eyes were narrowed as he pulled back to look Brendon over. “You’re kind of old for babysitting.”
“I’m eighteen.” Brendon shrugged. He wasn’t sure he imagined the spark in Ryan’s eyes at the words. “You’re her bro-half-brother, why didn’t you do it?”
Ryan snorted, laughing darkly. “Please. My parents don’t trust me with her. I can barely do anything with myself.”
“They’re trusting you with her tomorrow.”
Ryan waved him away. “Only because they’ll be back tomorrow afternoon and I can’t possibly fuck her up in a span of hours unless I lose her or something.”
Frowning, Brendon picked at a few pieces of popcorn. “So where were you tonight?”
Ryan’s unfocused gaze slid back to him, but it might have been sharper now. “Out with friends,” he replied, his tone calm and collected as though it was a line he used a lot. “I’m nineteen. I’m not seven anymore.”
“Do you live here?” Brendon asked curiously. He hadn’t really seen anything in the house that would indicate a nineteen year old boy living there.
“Only when I can’t pay rent,” Ryan replied. “So as little as possible.” He scrubbed at his hair, then paused, looking at Brendon. “You ask a lot of questions. You’re worse than Rilee.”
Brendon smiled at that, noticing how Ryan’s eyes were drawn to his mouth slowly.
“She’s a good kid. A little demanding, but I think I’m starting to understand where she gets that from.”
Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed, and though he was drunk, he seemed to put things together fairly quickly. The speed at which he shifted surprised Brendon, and he didn’t know quite what to do when Ryan’s body was pressed up against his almost challengingly.
“What does that mean?” he asked, a finger pressing into Brendon’s chest.
Swallowing nervously, Brendon fished for an answer. “Nothing. It’s just that you guys are sort of similar.”
Ryan glared but didn’t move back, pressed chest to chest with Brendon, his finger pressing harder until it almost hurt, but then it slipped up his shirt, tracing a line slowly up to his neck.
Brendon didn’t know what to do and waited, watching Ryan carefully. He could smell the alcohol on his breath now and watched the way the light from the TV flickered over his face.
Ryan’s finger moved, sliding up Brendon’s neck until it paused over his pulse. Brendon was positive that Ryan could feel how hard it was beating as he silently panicked. He didn’t know Ryan at all, and with the way he was pressed against him, so warm in the cold night air, his musky, alcohol-drenched breath fogging over his cheek, he couldn’t be blamed for being slightly scared, and maybe a little aroused all at the same time.
“I’m not like her,” Ryan finally growled, licking his lips and breathing out hard against Brendon’s cheek.
Brendon shook his head slowly. “No, she’s like you.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t refute it. He blinked, eyes flitting over Brendon’s face, until a smirk colored his expression and his finger finally slid up from Brendon’s pulse to stroke a tiny patch behind his ear. If Brendon hadn’t been scared that Ryan was going to kill him, he might have found it enjoyable, and maybe he did anyway when Ryan shifted, pushing himself up so that he was actually straddling Brendon’s lap and not just practically lying on top of him.
The pressure on Brendon’s chest eased and he could almost breathe normally again, except for the little matter that Ryan was still looming over him. His eyes had darkened, though, and his finger was still on Brendon’s neck.
“Does Rilee like you?” he asked finally, his mouth close enough to Brendon’s ear that he could feel the moisture of his breath, the warmth ghosting over the shell, encompassing his skin that buzzed slightly.
“I think I won her over,” Brendon replied, not admitting that his voice shook. “I lost, like, a billion games of Chutes and Ladders.”
“That just means you suck at board games,” Ryan murmured. His finger was still stroking slowly but Brendon refused to let his eyes flutter closed at the soft touch, no matter how much he wanted to. “But that would win her over.”
“D-do you ever lose?” Brendon asked, trying not to choke on his own words as nerves clouded his judgment. He could feel the way Ryan loomed over him, hips hovering just above him while their bodies touched in other places.
“Not on purpose,” Ryan whispered. His thumb brushed behind Brendon’s ear and Brendon couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through his body at the light touch. Ryan seemed to notice as a small smirk appeared on his face. Shifting forward, he brought his mouth up to Brendon’s ear, so close his lips brushed over it when he next spoke. “But it’s easier to cheat when they can’t count higher than ten.”
“Ch-cheating is wrong?” Brendon managed to choke out against Ryan’s mouth pressed to his ear. It came out more like a question than anything and Ryan laughed, low and smooth.
“Yeah, sure,” he murmured back.
Brendon froze as he felt Ryan’s nose, cold and dry, pressing behind his ear, and the soft sound Ryan let out, his breath hot over Brendon’s neck.
“You know, you’re cuter than any of the other babysitters,” Ryan mumbled, syllables slurring and his thumb slipping on Brendon’s neck. “Less like a girl too.”
“Um, I’m not a girl?” Brendon said, again cursing himself as it came out sounding like a question.
“No,” Ryan muttered, lips brushing against Brendon’s neck softly. “You’re not.”
“You’re-” Brendon paused, taking a sharp breath when Ryan’s nose disappeared and his mouth replaced it, tongue tracing a circle on his neck. “You’re kind of drunk.”
“And you’re kinda not,” Ryan replied, sinking his teeth lightly into Brendon’s neck so that he jumped, but didn’t push hastily at his arms. “And you haven’t stopped me yet, so I’m gonna take that as a yes, you do like guys, and yeah, you’re not gonna tell me to fuck off.”
“I could,” Brendon offered weakly, but he knew it wasn’t true.
It wasn’t as though a lot of people knew he preferred guys - he certainly hadn’t told his parents at any rate. So his prospects were very slim considering who he hung out with at school.
“You won’t,” Ryan said, and he sounded so sure that Brendon just had to agree.
“What about…” He stopped when Ryan’s hips dropped down for the first time, taking a shaky breath and licking his lips slowly. “Rilee.”
“Hmm?” Ryan asked, words smashed against Brendon’s neck as he bit him again, sucking hard on the skin.
Brendon’s eyes fluttered shut but he jerked them open again. He couldn’t do this. It was wrong.
“Ryan, Ryan, stop,” he said, pushing fruitlessly at Ryan. It didn’t appear to work, but Ryan pulled back at his words anyway.
“What?” he asked impatiently, raising a finger to the reddened spot on Brendon’s neck and tracing it slowly. Brendon only jerked a little at the touch.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he whispered, his voice lacking the conviction he wished it had.
Ryan’s rolled eyes were just visible in the flickering blue light of the TV. “Maybe you shouldn’t, but I want to.”
Leaning in again, he drew his hips up this time, rocking slowly into Brendon, dragging the friction of the jeans tight against Brendon’s skin. Brendon’s eyes shot open wide as he felt Ryan’s cock, already hard, pressed against his hips.
“Ryan,” he said nervously, his hand reached for Ryan’s odd vest, feeling a smooth silk under his fingers.
Ryan didn’t stop the movement, using his whole body to rock against Brendon. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done this,” he breathed, words harsh in the room. His hair flopped into his face, but he just shook it back, leaning into Brendon’s ear and taking it in between his teeth.
“N-no,” Brendon stuttered, taking a sharp breath as Ryan’s tongue dipped into his ear. “I just don’t think-”
“That’s your problem then,” Ryan interrupted, mouth still drifting over Brendon’s ear even as Brendon let out a small whimper. Ryan’s smirk was momentary, and his hand dropped from Brendon’s neck to his lap, pressing down sharply as Brendon gasped for breath. “Looks like you’ve got another problem too.”
Brendon didn’t say anything as Ryan’s hand pressed down against his cock, shielded by a layer of jeans and boxers. Instead, he let out a breathless whimper and his hand tightened on Ryan’s vest.
“Fuck,” he cursed in a rush of air, his eyes sliding shut and his head falling back against the arm of the couch.
“Maybe later,” came the mumble from somewhere around his collar bone.
Ryan’s mouth was warm against his tee shirt, and his hand found ways to rock into his cock just at the right angle so that Brendon was arching up into him. Bites were pressed into his skin over his tee shirt and Brendon wasn’t sure if that was completely hot or if he was just really desperate for something that didn’t involve hay rides or church-sponsored activities.
Ryan was sliding further down, and Brendon bemoaned the loss of friction when his hips slid away and his hand moved to the zipper, tugging it down.
Brendon was hard by now and could feel the blood rushing down, pulsing deep in his cock as he struggled to retain a sense of reality. The moment Ryan’s hand shoved down his boxers, though, and slid over the hot skin of his prick, he lost any rational thoughts he might have had about Rilee or Ryan’s parents and that this was their house and he was the babysitter.
Swallowing hard, he tilted his head down to be able to see.
The flickering light from the infomercial cast a blue and white glow over Ryan’s features as he leaned forward, his mouth stretching wide and his tongue flicking over the head of Brendon’s cock. Ryan’s eyes were on Brendon’s and he caught the devious flicker that might have been a trick of the light.
“Oh,” Brendon panted, his fingers tightening over what part of the couch cushions he could grab as Ryan moved in, his mouth sliding over the hot skin.
It had been a while since Brendon had done this, and the last time hadn’t been so great. Getting drunk at a party and cornering the nearest gay guy didn’t always have the best results. Brendon could still remember the teeth and the pain.
Ryan, however, was nothing like the other had been, despite being drunk. He was smooth and didn’t fumble for the right grip as he sucked on Brendon’s dick. His fist curled around the base and stroked down short and fast until Brendon was biting his lip hard to muffle the noises that would surely wake Rilee just down the hall.
Ryan hummed around his cock, sending vibrations up his skin. Brendon squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth falling open as he panted. Ryan’s tongue was wet and slick, tonguing into the slit as Brendon struggled to hold on.
“Ry-Ryan,” he gasped when Ryan’s hand uncurled from around his prick and slipped down to rub over his balls slowly, thumb stroking down.
Ryan didn’t pull away or speak, sucking hard until Brendon’s hips were jerking up and he was mumbling nonsense, trying to warn Ryan. His hand went for Ryan’s hair, twisting and tugging desperately as he arched up, thrusting into Ryan’s hot mouth as he came.
Ryan didn’t move back, licking up Brendon’s release, even as Brendon’s hips slid down again and his grip in Ryan’s hair lessened.
“Sorry,” he whispered, releasing the locks and brushing them back slightly. His breath came back slowly, and he could feel Ryan’s hands, warm on his thighs, as he pushed himself up, sliding back into his lap.
“S’okay,” Ryan murmured, chest pressed against Brendon’s again but it wasn’t quite as suffocating as before. His mouth moved to Brendon’s neck, sucking on the same place as before until it was hot and red under his tongue. “Hey,” he muttered, thrusting his hips against Brendon’s thigh and Brendon’s eyes widened again. “Let me fuck you.”
“Wh-what?” Brendon asked, a slight thrill of both panic and excitement running through him.
“Come on,” Ryan whispered. “I sucked you off. Just let me.”
Brendon wasn’t sure it was a fair trade, especially since he’d never quite gone all the way. “Can’t I just…?” he asked, his hand sliding down to Ryan’s jeans and cupping his erection carefully. Ryan’s hips thrust into his hand, and his breath was hot against Brendon’s neck.
“Fuck, yeah, just-just,” Ryan panted, teeth scraping over Brendon’s jaw, and Brendon took that as a yes.
He fumbled with the button and got his hand underneath with only a little difficulty, hoping his hand wasn’t shaking in his nerves. Ryan only arched into his touch, though, so Brendon took it as a good sign.
He stroked quickly, doing things he knew he liked - the flick of the wrist, a thumb smearing the pre-cum at the tip of Ryan’s cock. It felt almost strange to do it to someone else, but that didn’t stop Brendon. He worked hard at it, careful not to hold too tightly, although when Ryan whined into his shoulder, fingers tightening over his arm, and “fuck, harder,” came out in a rush of air, Brendon did as he was told.
Ryan was practically on top of him, mouth and nose pressed into the juncture between Brendon’s neck and shoulder. He felt the occasional nip of teeth scraped over skin, sure to leave marks for the next morning.
Brendon didn’t stop to think how he would explain it to his parents, though, just stroked Ryan harder, slicking up and down his cock until he felt Ryan’s hips stutter in his grip and the warm, wet liquid spreading over his hands.
Ryan’s breath was harsh but quiet, let slip through gritted teeth as he slid down in Brendon’s grip, breathing hard against his neck.
Swallowing, Brendon pulled his hand away slowly, quietly inspecting the shiny liquid visible in the blue glow. He didn’t know what to do now as Ryan lay against him, still smelling like beer and stale cigarettes, his hair more mussed than ever and his cheeks flushed red.
After what felt like hours, although it was probably more like five minutes, Ryan shifted, pushing himself up and staring at Brendon.
Brendon’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he stared back. Ryan was close, close enough to brush their noses together, close enough that if Brendon just inclined forward less than an inch, their mouths would meet and he might be able to taste the beer rather than just smell it.
Ryan’s eyes were still glazed and his breath was still hot on Brendon’s skin. He blinked, though, inclining forward just barely, and Brendon held his breath. He could feel the kiss on the air and licked his lip again, staring into Ryan’s dark eyes. Moving forward, he was close enough to feel Ryan’s breath on his lips, hot and moist. Swallowing, he waited nervously for Ryan to close the distance.
But it never came. Instead, Ryan moved his mouth, his lips trailing along Brendon’s cheek as he spoke.
“Fuck, I need to sleep,” he muttered, sighing long and pushing away from Brendon without a second glance. He clambered up off the couch, obviously still tipsy from the way he stumbled to the side and cursed as he hit the coffee table.
Brendon watched him disappear down the hallway in relative disbelief. Alone in the living room with only the flickering TV, Brendon sighed and clicked the power button. Darkness fell around him and he wondered if he’d be able to sleep now.
*
Brendon wasn’t sure how much he actually slept in the lumpy guest bed. Maybe it hadn’t been lumpy and he just hadn’t been able to sleep, replaying Ryan’s actions only hours before. He spent many hours alternating between staring at the red alarm clock (which changed only two minutes at a time it seemed - two fifty-three a.m., two fifty-five a.m., two fifty-seven a.m.) and the ceiling that was dark except for the slit of moonlight that crept in through the curtain.
The last time he remembered was three twenty-two a.m. before his eyes were opening and the slit of moonlight had turned into a full blown blast of sunlight dancing across the ceiling. Groaning, he turned over and hid his face in the pillows, completely not ready for the day. He didn’t want to face Ryan, who probably didn’t even remember anything.
When he finally was awake enough, he poked his head out of the pillow to squint at the red letters that didn’t seem so threatening in the light. They read eight thirty-seven a.m. Sighing, Brendon really didn’t want to get up, but he knew that he had to feed Rilee and probably himself, if not Ryan as well.
Rolling out of bed, he tugged on a clean shirt and eyed his jeans. They were his only pair since he hadn’t counted on needing another. There were no stains on them that he could see, but he just felt weird wearing them out to where Ryan would probably be.
Still, though, he had no other pants, so he pulled them on and hoped no one would notice anything. He’d be going home in a matter of hours anyway. Rilee’s parents were due home that afternoon, and Ryan could take care of Rilee for now.
Telling himself to get a grip, Brendon opened the bedroom door and padded down to the kitchen, careful not to make noise.
The smell of coffee met his nose before he even stepped foot into the living room. He was surprised. He hadn’t expected Ryan to be up before noon after last night. He was wrong, though, when he stepped into the doorway to the kitchen to find Ryan up, hair a mussed mess, and eyeliner still smudged under his eyes. He was wearing a pair of low slung pajama pants and thin tee shirt with no shoes or socks.
“Um,” Brendon said as he stopped in the doorway and Ryan turned to him. Brendon wondered if he should say anything, but Ryan spoke first.
“I made coffee.” He nodded at the pot brewing on the opposite counter and Brendon nodded.
“I don’t really drink coffee,” he muttered quietly, but Ryan didn’t probe him about it like other people usually did. Instead, he just shrugged and poured himself a cup, opening the fridge door and staring inside for a good five minutes before sighing and shutting it.
He didn’t even acknowledge Brendon as he sunk down onto one of the stools at the breakfast counter. He only sipped his coffee fortifyingly.
The silence wasn’t awkward, but Brendon was sure it was going to be soon if he didn’t say something. He had to know if Ryan even remembered.
Just as he opened his mouth, Rilee appeared in the doorway, rubbing at her eyes and yawning. She stopped, though, as she caught sight of Ryan.
“Ryan!” she cried, running to him and hugging him tightly.
Despite the early hour and what was obviously a wince caused by a hangover, Ryan managed a smile and hugged her back. “Hey, Riles. What’s up?”
Rilee grinned. “Brendon sucks at Chutes and Ladders.”
“I do not,” Brendon protested, but Rilee was smirking knowingly and Brendon didn’t even have to wonder who she got that from as he glanced at Ryan. Ryan wasn’t smirking, but his coffee cup was up to his mouth and the corners were turned up.
“Brendon, huh?” Ryan asked and Brendon felt his heart sinking.
Rilee nodded again. “He lost six times.”
“How do you know I wasn’t just letting you win?” Brendon countered but Rilee gave him a knowing look.
“Because no one loses that much on purpose. Besides, I can count.” She directed this to Ryan, who didn’t respond, sipping more coffee. “Ryan always cheats.”
“Do not,” Ryan muttered but Rilee ignored him.
“Brendon, what’s for breakfast?”
“Uh…” Brendon paused, hesitating to move over to the fridge since Ryan was standing right next to it as he refilled his coffee. “Let’s see.”
Trying to ignore how Ryan’s eyes watched him round the counter to the fridge, he pulled it open and looked inside.
“How about eggs?” he asked and Rilee made a negative noise, something between sticking out her tongue and making a choking noise. “Okay, or not.” He looked again. “Waffles?” he asked, spotting a package deep in the freezer.
“Yeah!” Rilee cried, and Brendon dug it out, only dropping frozen meat on his foot once and hopping a little as he picked it up and shoved it back in.
When he got the waffles out and the door shut, he turned to find Ryan giving him an amused glance. Brendon didn’t know what to make of it, and so just turned to the toaster, making the waffles.
When Rilee was settled happily with her waffles covered in about a gallon of syrup at the dining room table, Brendon sighed and rested against the kitchen counter.
Ryan hadn’t said much while he’d made breakfast, only answered a few of Rilee’s questions about how long he was staying (until mom and Rich got back then he had to get back to school), and yes, he’d play Chutes and Ladders with her later.
“So,” Brendon said awkwardly once Rilee was occupied with her food. “I guess I should go soon. I, uh, have a paper to write for English.”
Ryan didn’t reply for a minute but set down his empty coffee cup. “My mom called,” he said after a minute. “They’re gonna stay an extra day.”
“Oh.” Brendon paused. He wasn’t sure what that had to do with him. Ryan was there now. He could take care of Rilee.
Ryan was watching him as he set down the cup and turned towards him. “Brendon,” he said after a minute, and Brendon glanced up.
“Yeah?”
Ryan moved, the same speed as the night before making itself apparent as he was in front of Brendon before he could even blink. His hands boxed him in against the counter but he wasn’t close enough to touch him.
“How would you feel about making a couple extra bucks?”
Brendon paused, frowning slightly. “You want me to watch Rilee again today?”
“No.” Ryan shook his head, sliding forward, and Brendon could feel the warmth of his body. He didn’t smell like alcohol now. He’d obviously showered and smelled vaguely of strawberry and coffee. “I want you to stay here and play Chutes and Ladders.”
Brendon was still confused, and things didn’t get much clearer when Ryan moved in, kissing him. His eyes widened as he felt Ryan’s mouth against his, a tongue sliding against his lips, licking its way in as Brendon parted his lips and closed his eyes. Ryan tasted like coffee and sugar, warm and sweet.
Brendon was particularly glad that Rilee’s back was turned toward the kitchen as Ryan slid closer, a heavy hand resting on Brendon’s hip as he kissed him deeper. Their noses bumped together and lips slid together. Ryan’s tongue traced Brendon’s bottom lip before he sucked on it lightly.
“Ryan,” Brendon broke away with a whisper, staring at Ryan. In the light, he could see that Ryan’s eyes were the exact shade as Rilee’s. “What are you doing?”
“Finishing what I started,” Ryan replied simply, kissing the corner of Brendon’s mouth. He smirked as he stepped back and Brendon wasn’t sure what to make of it. He figured it couldn’t be bad, though, as Ryan stepped past him, his hand brushing against his lightly.
Brendon followed him to the dining room table where Rilee was on her second waffle. She looked up, though, as they entered, looking from Ryan’s coolly indifferent expression to Brendon, who was having a harder time hiding his smile.
“What’s on your neck?” she asked suddenly, and Brendon’s fingers went up to the mark Ryan had so thoughtfully left there the night before.
“Um,” he started to say, but was saved by Ryan.
“Good news, Riles,” he said, ruffling her hair just as Brendon had tried to do the day before, and she ducked and pushed his hand away just as she had before. “Brendon’s gonna stay and play some Chutes and Ladders with us.”
Rilee looked at him carefully, almost like she knew they were hiding something, but in the end, she shrugged happily and stabbed at her waffle.
“As long as you don’t cheat,” she told Ryan, who shook his head.
“I never cheat,” he replied and Rilee didn’t look convinced, going back to her breakfast.
Brendon met Ryan’s gaze behind her back and couldn’t help smiling softly despite when Ryan walked by minutes later, brushing against his side again and whispering in his ear.
“If you don’t cheat, I’ll give you something more to remember me by.” He drew a light finger over the hickey on Brendon’s neck and Brendon didn’t stop the shiver that ran down his spine.
Brendon just smiled and watched Ryan until he disappeared into the living room.
“Come on, Rilee,” Brendon said. “Let’s go play some Chutes and Ladders. You are so going down.”
“In your dreams,” she shot back, flouncing off to the living room with Ryan.
As Brendon set the dirty dishes in the sink, he just thought that he could get used to this babysitting thing.
*
FIN.