How Far Down [Brendon/Ryan R]
Title: How Far Down
Author: silver_etoile
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan
Pov: Third
Rating: R
Summary: Ryan likes his job, and it only gets more interesting when a new customer starts coming in regularly. (6,500).
Disclaimer: I don't own a shop, and Ryan is not my worker, or I may be happier with my life.
A/N: I got into a comment discussion the other day with disc0_dancer about Starbucks fics. This came out of it... :) Beta'd by silverdragon87.
*
The air is sort of musty, but it’s a warm, comforting smell that lingers in his clothes long after he has left. On the front door, there’s a little bell that jingles every time someone enters, and there’s a cat that sits on a wooden post by the window, staring out at the sidewalk. The front counter is set back a little ways from the door and the window. There’s another little bell here that sits on top of the rich cherry finish of the counter. An old-fashioned cash register is heavy on the wood and makes ticking sounds whenever it’s opened.
Ryan Ross works in the small bookshop in his off-time from the University. There are rows and rows of books that dwindle into the dark corners of the store, and Ryan likes to wander down the aisles during his shifts. He is often called back to the front by the insistent ringing of the counter bell.
The cat, Dylan, has lived there ever since the shop opened, although no one is sure how he came to be there. He didn’t belong to the owner, and the first day the shop opened, had just wandered in and perched on top of the counter. The owner liked him, though, and let him stay.
Ryan spends most of his time in the shop rearranging messy shelves or flipping through the pages of the new books they get in. He sits on the tall stool behind the counter and reads until a customer comes in and he has to help them.
His best friend, Spencer Smith, comes in sometimes to chat with him. Ryan’s lucky his boss is such a nice, laid-back guy, and doesn’t get angry at him for talking to Spencer for hours. Jon’s pretty cool, though, and Ryan really likes working for him.
He started working at the bookshop just after starting college, needing the money for expenses, and has continued working there ever since. It’s been nearly two years, and Ryan’s really content.
All sorts of people come into the bookshop. There are the regulars, like Mrs. Pointer, who comes by every Wednesday with a cat treat for Dylan and a new story about her grandchildren for Ryan. Ryan suffers through the stories only because Mrs. Pointer always leaves a generous tip in the little jar on the counter when she leaves, even if she doesn’t buy anything. Jon’s told Ryan the woman just wants companionship.
There are the tourists, who stumble upon the store after getting lost in Vegas. They usually wander in asking for directions to the Strip, and then end up spending their entire afternoon in the shop, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the quaint desert-ness. There are little saguaro cactus figurines on the counter and a Southwestern painting on the wall behind it. Ryan thinks it’s gaudy, but Jon says it keeps the tourists from running away to the Strip. He’s right, since they always make a hefty sale from the lost tourists.
There are the people who come in every few months that Ryan never recognizes. They always know him, though. They smile and say hi, then wander to the back of the store where Ryan can’t see them. Sometimes he wonders why Jon deliberately made the back dark like that. Jon never says why.
There’s Spencer, who sometimes drops by on Saturday afternoons with a vanilla frappacino for Ryan and a non-fat latte (with extra whipped cream) for Jon. He’ll smile and hang around the counter for a few hours, petting Dylan, and talking about their Planetary Science class and the test next Tuesday.
Most of the time, though, it’s just Ryan in the shop. Jon works most of the morning, and hangs around a few more hours after Ryan gets there, but leaves before three in the afternoon. Ryan doesn’t know where he goes, but he leaves the shop in his care with the instruction to lock up and don’t forget to feed Dylan.
Ryan spends these hours reading any book he wants. He changes every day. One day he’ll read a mystery book, the next a romance, and the next, the Complete Works of Shakespeare. He likes to change.
It starts on a Tuesday. Jon’s just left for the afternoon, and outside, the sun is hanging lower, casting a warm, yellow light on the city. This is Ryan’s favorite time of day: just after noon and just before sunset. In the summer time, the weather is perfectly hot but with a breeze that ripples the surfaces of the pools in everyone’s back yard.
Ryan’s just picked out his book for the day, Paradise Lost by Milton, when the door opens and the bell jingles. Dylan lets out a little sound, sort of like a purr and a meow mushed together. He stretches on his post, his claws digging into the wood as he stands up and stares through his wide, yellow eyes at the boy who’s standing in the doorway.
Ryan glances up and pauses. The boy is looking around slowly, his eyes taking in the dark, endless shelves. He’s wearing a pair of tight jeans and a yellow hoodie, his hands stuffed into his pockets.
He doesn’t look like a tourist, since he’s lacking the Hawaiian shirt, the huge sunglasses, and bright blue fanny pack. He looks like any kid off the streets.
Ryan wonders if he’s one of those people who come once every few months and he just doesn’t remember. He doesn’t think so, though. There’s something very distinct about this boy, though he can’t put his finger on it, and he thinks he would remember him.
So, setting down his book, Ryan shifts on his stool and looks at the boy. "Can I help you?" he asks simply.
The boy’s gaze comes to Ryan quickly. He’s got pretty, dark brown eyes that are partially covered by his hair that falls in his face. He shakes his head in response to Ryan and turns to Dylan, who’s not-so-patiently pawing the boy’s sleeve. A loud purr rumbles from the grey cat as soon as the boy touches his head.
Ryan watches him for a second, then decides he’s better off reading. He picks up his book again and starts reading.
The boy stands near the door for a minute, petting Dylan, then slowly moves off to the other side of the store. Ryan doesn’t watch him, but he can hear his muffled footsteps on the other side of the shelves. He’s gone down the fiction aisle.
Ryan soon loses track of the boy, immersed in the epic poetry of Milton. He doesn’t think about him again until he senses a presence approaching the counter.
The boy is there, a thick book in his hands. Ryan looks up, his eyes flicking from the book to the boy’s face.
"Found something?" he asks, marking his place in his book and setting it aside.
The boy nods again and slides the book forward over the smooth, wooden surface of the counter. It’s a copy of Grimm’s Fairytales. Ryan reaches for it and scans the barcode quickly, a little curious at the boy’s lack of speech.
"That’ll be $15.92," he says.
The boy fishes in his tight jeans and comes out with a wallet. It’s pink with butterflies on it.
He hands over a crumpled twenty dollar bill and Ryan rings it up, giving the boy his change.
"You want a bag?"
"No," the boy mumbles, grabbing the book from the counter and tucking it under his arm.
Ryan looks at him for a second, then clears his throat. "Have a nice day," he says mechanically.
The boy nods again, a small smile gracing the corners of his lips as he turns and leaves, the bell tingling behind him. Ryan stares for a minute, then shakes his head and sighs. Picking up his book, he thinks that he probably will never see that boy again.
**
He’s wrong.
The next Saturday, Spencer is there, having brought the customary Starbucks run. He’s leaning on the counter, talking to Ryan about the midterm in Planetary Science. Jon is in the back sorting the new shipment they’d received the day before. Ryan is nodding along with Spencer, not really listening.
The door jingles and Ryan looks up. The same boy is in the doorway. His eyes meet Ryan’s for a second before he turns and disappears down the same row as before.
"…And Johnson said there’d be the stuff about quasars and stuff on the test, right?" Spencer asks earnestly, looking at Ryan, who’s still staring at the spot the boy had left from. He doesn’t respond and Spencer sighs. "Ryan? Ryan? Earth to Ryan." He’s waving his hand in front of Ryan’s face and Ryan jerks back.
"What?" he snaps moodily and Spencer raises an eyebrow.
"Quasars, yes or no?"
"I don’t know," Ryan replies, rolling his eyes. "Isn’t there a study guide somewhere?"
"You’re better than any study guide," Spencer points out. "You’ve read the entire book."
Ryan shrugs. "I was bored."
"Working in a store full of books and you choose to read your textbook." Spencer arches an eyebrow. "You must have been."
Ryan sighs. "No, he said he wouldn’t put quasars on the test. If you listened, you would know."
"I was sick that day, remember?"
Ryan shrugs. Spencer falls silent, stroking Dylan’s smooth fur. He’s lounged on the counter, enjoying the full attention of someone other than Mrs. Pointer.
Ryan hears a noise and glances at the long shelf in front of the counter. He catches a glimpse of the boy through the books. He appears to be contemplating a particular book but doesn’t take it out. Instead, he turns and disappears from Ryan’s view.
Spencer turns around when Ryan stares for longer than a minute, but there’s no one there when he looks. Instead, he frowns.
"You feeling okay?"
Ryan scowls. "Yes. Of course."
"You’re not sick, or going crazy?"
Ryan huffs. "No."
"Good," comes a second voice from behind the counter. Jon comes through the door, a box in his hands. "Wouldn’t want to send you home."
"Why?" Ryan asks indignantly. "Because I stare at a shelf for two seconds?"
"We’re only worried for your health," Jon says convincingly, shifting the box in his arms. "Can’t have my best worker getting sick."
"I’m your only worker," Ryan points out moodily.
Jon shrugs, with difficulty since the box he’s holding is rather heavy. "No difference. Christ, this is heavy. Spencer, come help."
Spencer hurries over to Jon and grabs the end of the box. Ryan watches, amused, as Spencer helps him carry it over and set it down on the floor by one of the display shelves. He remains on his stool, proving his worth as Jon’s only employee.
Spencer stands up and looks at Ryan. "I work harder than you do, and I don’t even work here."
Ryan smirks. "There are perks to this job."
Jon just laughs. "Reading all my books without paying being the main one."
"It’s like my own personal library," Ryan says with a smirk. Spencer rolls his eyes. Jon laughs.
There’s another noise and the boy has emerged from behind the shelves finally. His hands are empty and he glances at Ryan. Jon notices the boy for the first time and smiles welcomingly at him.
"Hi, can I help you find anything?"
The boy shakes his head, returning the smile. "No, I’m just browsing," he replies simply. "You have a nice selection of books."
Ryan is shocked. The boy barely said one word to him last time, and now he's talking to Jon as though they're old friends.
"Glad you think so," Jon replies. "I try to keep up with the times."
Ryan snorts but stays silent, ignoring Jon’s eye roll. The boy’s eyes flick to him, but he says nothing of it.
"Well, if you need any help," Jon says, "you can always ask me. I’m Jon, I own the place, or you can ask Ryan, my trusty assistant." He pats Ryan’s shoulder and winks. Ryan rolls his eyes.
"Just don’t ask Dylan," Ryan adds instead. "He won’t be any help."
The boy’s eyebrows come together. "Dylan?"
Ryan nods to the fat grey cat stretched across nearly the entire counter. He makes a small sound and looks up at Ryan, as though he knows they’re talking about him.
"Oh." The boy smiles a little. "Well, thanks."
"No problem," Jon replies.
The boy bites his lip for a second, his eyes flickering to Ryan before he smiles and slowly backs out of the store. Ryan’s eyes stay on the door for several seconds as Jon turns back to Spencer.
"Help me rearrange these, Spence," he says, and they set about putting the books on the shelf while Ryan stares out the window.
**
The boy doesn’t come back for nearly a week, not that Ryan’s noticing or anything. Mrs. Pointer comes on Wednesday as usual and talks Ryan’s ear off for a good hour about her grand daughter, who took her first steps the day before. Ryan grins and bears it, smiling at the appropriate places, and making pleased noises.
He doesn’t see anyone else he recognizes the rest of the week. Some tourists get lost on Thursday and end up buying their entire collection of desert bobble-heads that they got in by accident and Jon kept to "amuse the tourists."
Friday rolls around and Ryan is bored. There’s nothing new he wants to read, and he doesn’t want to study for school. He has his iPod on, but even that doesn’t hold his attention, so he digs out his notebook and begins to doodle, occasionally writing down words that spring into his mind.
He’s sitting at the counter, one elbow on the counter, his head resting in it as the other doodles jagged black crows on the notebook paper. His earbuds are in, and he doesn’t hear the familiar jingle of the door.
He doesn’t see Dylan stretch upward and rub eagerly against the hand that reaches out to pet him. He misses the soft smile on the boy’s face as the cat meows and paws at his hand when he stops stroking him.
It isn’t until half an hour later, when the boy has wandered off into the maze of shelves and come back to the front, a thin paperback in his hands, that Ryan notices him. He jerks out of his reverie with his page and glances up as a chest comes into his view.
The white hoodie covered with colorful butterflies is unzipped, and underneath, is a band tee-shirt, though the name is half-covered and Ryan can’t read it.
He recognizes who it is before he even reaches the face. His eyes flick to the book on the counter. It’s an English version of Le Petit Prince by Antoine de St. Exupéry. Ryan didn’t even know they had it.
The boy is smiling at him, but not speaking. Ryan takes the book and scans it into the register. "This it?"
"Yeah," the boy replies, still smiling. He takes out the same ridiculous butterfly wallet that matches his hoodie, oddly enough, and pays Ryan.
Ryan feels like he should say something as the boy takes the book and shoves it into his back pocket. He hesitates too long, though, and the boy is turning away and leaving without so much as a backward glance out the door. Dylan hops off his post and paws at the door as it swings shut.
Ryan feels like he missed something important, though he doesn’t know what. Instead, he shakes his head and returns to his doodle, now penciling in a little rose under a glass cover.
**
The boy comes back a few more times after that visit, but doesn’t buy anything. He just wanders through the aisles for a few minutes, and Ryan asks every time if he can help him find something. The boy just smiles and says no.
Ryan doesn’t know why, but it frustrates him that the boy comes in so often and he doesn’t even know his name. The boy knows his name, and has used it on several occasions. Sometimes he says hello, other times, if someone is already there, he’ll just sort of smile at Ryan and disappear into the shelves.
Jon hasn’t caught on yet, and Ryan hasn’t told Spencer about the boy. It’s not that he won’t, it’s that Spencer will make a big deal out of it and press him for details, of which there are none. Ryan doesn’t even know this boy. All he knows is that he as an affinity for colorful butterflies and girl jeans. Hardly basis for a relationship, even a pretend one.
Jon has met the boy several times, though he knows about as much as Ryan does. The boy is much more talkative to Jon, though Ryan never seems to be around when this happens. Jon always tells him that the boy came in while he was in class.
This has only happened a few times, though. Mostly, the boy comes in in the late afternoon, around five when the sun is just barely dusting the edges of the earth and everything is bathed in a golden orange color. Dylan is usually stretched out on the windowsill, drinking in the warm rays of the sun before they disappear completely.
The bell jingles and the cat stretches, a meow on his lips before the hand even scratches his ears. Ryan glances up to find the boy standing there, bending over to pet the cat on the sill. He doesn’t say anything and goes back to reading his book, or pretending to anyway.
The boy pets Dylan for a few minutes before straightening up. Usually, he wanders off into the store for a while before either leaving empty-handed or buying some small book. Ryan wonders if he actually reads the things he buys or if it’s merely an excuse to come into the shop.
This time, though, the boy doesn’t wander to the back. Instead, he picks his way to the counter, glancing at random books along the way until he’s standing in front of Ryan, his fingers tapping on the counter nervously.
Ryan raises an eyebrow. This is new.
"Looking for something special?" he asks dully, turning down the volume on his iPod.
The boy shrugs. "Sort of," he replies. He glances around, fingering the cactus figurine. He’s biting his lip and Ryan forces himself not to stare. That’s a sure-fire way to get the boy to leave and never come back.
Ryan’s hasn’t exactly admitted to himself that he finds the boy, in his outrageously-colored hoodies, with his butterfly wallet, and purple-toed shoes, attractive, but somewhere deep down, he knows it’s true. The boy’s got soft brown hair that he just wants to run his hands through and mess up so badly. His lips are something Ryan would love to touch, kiss, just once.
The boy looks nervous, chewing on his lip and avoiding Ryan’s eyes. "Um, do you guys have, like, psychology books?"
Ryan’s confused, but only shows it in the lowering of an eyebrow. "Yeah, they’re in the back," he says, jerking his thumb down the first row to the end that’s shrouded in shadow.
"Thanks," the boy says and turns quickly, hurrying down the aisle Ryan indicated. Ryan peers after him long after he’s been engulfed by the darkness.
The time passes and the sun sets until the big hand on the clock over the door hits seven and Ryan slides off his stool. It’s time to close.
He hasn’t seen the boy since he left for the psychology section, and he doesn’t immediately close the shop like he usually does. Instead, he feeds Dylan in the back first and then comes back out into the shop. He hesitates a moment before heading for the back.
The bookshelves tower on either side of him, lit with warm, low, yellow lights. He’s always reminded of some medieval castle. The lights peter out near the back, though, and there’s only a single light here: a small floor lamp that only gives off about a two-foot radius of light.
There’s a small arm chair back here for people to sit, if they’d like to, and Ryan can make out the boy’s form. He’s hunched over a book and jumps as Ryan clears his throat. He glances up, startled.
"We’re closed," Ryan informs him after the second of silence that passes between them.
"Oh, sorry," the boy apologizes quickly, standing up, leaving the book on the chair.
Ryan glances at the book, but can’t make out the cover in the dim light. "Do you want to buy that?"
"Hm?" The boy looks like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Uh, no, that’s okay."
Ryan nods slowly. The boy forces a smile and moves past Ryan.
They walk back to the front and the boy pauses at the door. Outside, it’s completely dark except for the orange streetlights.
"I’ll see you later," the boy says with a small smile, then shoves his hands in his pockets and leaves through the jingling door.
Ryan waits a second before locking the door and quickly heading back to the little arm chair in the back. Sitting on the checkered fabric is a large, square book. Picking it up, he reads the title, his face curving into a small smirk: So You Might Be Gay?
**
"Brendon came in today," Jon shouts from the back where he’s doing inventory.
Ryan barely glances up from his new book. "Who?"
Jon comes out, a clipboard in his hands and a bag of receipt paper in his hands. "The boy with the weird shoes, who always comes in here?"
Ryan frowns and Jon sighs.
"With the butterfly wallet."
"Oh," Ryan says quickly. "You know his name?"
Jon shrugs, counting the tapes and marking them down. "Sure. I know a lot about him."
Ryan’s curiosity is sparked and he stares after Jon as he turns and heads back into the back. Ryan slides off his stool and follows him.
"What do you know?" he demands.
Jon’s sitting on the floor surrounded by boxes of pens and ink cartridges, and raises an eyebrow at Ryan. "Why?"
Ryan’s sighs, frustrated. "I’m just wondering," he lies, badly.
Jon makes a noise but doesn’t respond. He’s shifting through the cartridges now. Ryan puts his hands on his hips impatiently.
"Come on," he pushes. "What do you know?"
Jon’s preoccupied but speaks anyway. "His name’s Brendon, and he’s a freshman at UNLV, but he’s thinking of transferring to BYU." Jon pauses, sticking the pen in his mouth as he counts the cartridges. At Ryan’s blank stare, he takes the pen out. "He’s Mormon."
"I got that," Ryan snaps. He pauses, thinking back to the book Brendon, as he was now named, had been reading. "Anything else?"
"Um…" Jon scribbles down a number. "He really likes Dylan and offered to adopt him and let him sleep in his dorm."
Ryan snorts, but Jon looks serious.
"I told him no, but if he wanted you, you were all his."
Ryan’s mouth falls open. "Jon!"
Jon shakes his head and laughs. "Oh, relax. I didn’t mean it like that, and I doubt he thought that anyway. Besides, he seems like a good Mormon boy. Probably hasn’t even kissed a girl yet."
Ryan rolls his eyes at the stereotype. Jon’s not paying attention, though, now counting the boxes of blue pens.
"When did he tell you all this?" Ryan asks. He wonders why Brendon never talks to him like that. All he gets is a yes, or no, or hi.
Jon shrugs vaguely. "I dunno. We talk randomly. He doesn’t come in that often."
"He comes in every week!" Ryan says before he stops to think.
Jon looks up, the pens forgotten. "Really?" His tone is interested and an eyebrow goes up.
Ryan frowns and glances away. "Well, not, like, every week, but you know, every few weeks or so…" He knows lying is useless since he’s already given it away. He sighs. "Don’t tell Spencer, please."
Jon looks at him for a second before laughing. "Why not? He’s your best friend. Doesn’t he deserve to know you have a secret boyfriend?"
Ryan stares. "He’s not my boyfriend. I didn’t even know his name until you just said it. Besides, he’s Mormon. He can’t be gay."
Jon shrugs. "I knew a girl in high school who was Mormon and a lesbian."
"You’re not helping," Ryan snarls, crossing his arms over his chest.
Jon just shrugs again. "So why can’t I tell Spencer?"
"Because he’ll make fun of me."
"For liking a guy you’ve never had a complete conversation with? Yeah, I can see that."
Ryan groans. "You know what? Never mind. I’m just gonna go back out to the front and do my job."
Jon’s laugh follows him through the door as he climbs onto the stool and sticks his nose in his book. "I’ll be sure to tell Spencer about all this when I see him next."
Ryan just groans again and lets his head hit the counter with a thud.
**
Luckily, Spencer doesn’t come in until Saturday, and it’s Sunday that Jon finds out about Ryan’s (nonexistent) crush on Brendon. Ryan spends the week dreading when Spencer will find out and ask him all sorts of questions he doesn’t have answers to.
It’s Tuesday again and a horde of tourists have already come and gone with about half of their desert memorabilia. Sometimes, Ryan has to admit that Jon is a very good business man.
He’s trying to relax now that the swarm has lifted and it’s finally quiet in the little shop again. His sigh carries through the shop and he leans back in the stool, lifting his chosen book for the day.
He’s just gotten comfortable when the door jingles again. He groans and sighs at his book. He must have been louder than he thought, since when he looks up, Brendon is standing there, looking apologetic.
"Hi," he says quickly. "I didn’t mean, um, are you busy?"
Ryan stares for a second, then shakes his head. "No, I just. It’s been a long day."
Brendon nods and takes a step inside, bending down to scratch Dylan’s ears as usual. He straightens up after a minute, ignoring the pitiful meow of the cat. He looks nervous again as he approaches the counter. Ryan sets down his book, bending the spine on the counter.
Brendon’s dragging his toe as he reaches the counter and sets his elbows on it, much like Spencer does when he visits. His lip is between his teeth again and Ryan glances away.
Brendon looks away from Ryan, down the dark alley of books. "Um, so I guess you saw the book?" he asks awkwardly.
Ryan hesitates, watching Brendon carefully. "Yeah," he admits finally.
Brendon nods jerkily, still not meeting his eyes. "I-I’m not," he stutters finally. "Or, I mean, I don’t think I am. I was just curious, you know, ‘cause it’s normal, right? To think about it and… stuff."
Ryan tries not to smile when Brendon is so obviously nervous about this whole topic. He fixes his expression into a straight face when Brendon glances at him hopefully.
"Yeah, don’t worry about it," Ryan assures him. "I’m just a cashier. I don’t judge."
Brendon smiles a little. "Oh. Good." He pauses, then bites his lip again. "Um. Do you have any more books like that?" He sounds like he’d rather be roasting in hell than asking this question, but Ryan takes pity on him.
"Let’s go look," he says and slides off the stool. He leads the way down the aisle, pretending not to notice the way Brendon is checking out his ass.
They reach the back where all the psychology and self-help books are. Ryan skims the titles while Brendon stands behind him awkwardly.
"Here’s one," Ryan comments, pulling out a blue-covered book. "It’s all about knowing your body and stuff." He raises an eyebrow but holds it out to Brendon nevertheless.
Brendon takes it quickly and Ryan searches for more. He finds a few more, but when he turns back to Brendon, the books are on the chair and Brendon is staring at him.
"What?" Ryan asks, three heavy books in his hands. "Not what you want?"
"I’m not sure," Brendon replies, taking a tentative step forward.
Ryan frowns. "Well, do you want, like, magazines or something?"
Brendon shakes his head and takes another step. Ryan’s confused, and a little wary of Brendon as he comes even closer.
"You know, there’s always Wikipedia," he suggests awkwardly as Brendon invades his personal space. "The internet, it’s amazing, you know?" He feels stupid, but he can’t stop the words.
Brendon nods, then stops moving, looking nervous again. "Um, Ryan?" he asks.
"Yeah?"
"My professors always tell me that there’s only so much you can learn from books."
Ryan stares for a second. "Well," he blurts suddenly. "You know, books are good. It’s good to learn theory first."
"And after theory?" Brendon looks hopeful, and Ryan has to remind himself that Brendon doesn’t know what he wants. He doesn’t know who he is. Getting involved with him is a bad idea.
Ryan pauses, taking in Brendon’s face that’s no more than two inches away now. He’s got freckles burned into the otherwise tan skin, and a tiny scar runs under his left eye. It’s miniscule, but this close up, Ryan can see everything. His eyes are a dark, chocolate brown, and pleading with him.
Ryan knows it’s a bad idea, can hear his brain yelling at him, but he doesn’t listen. Instead, he leans forward slowly, pressing his lips to Brendon’s. They’re soft and moist from where Brendon’s been chewing on them since he arrived. He runs his tongue over the lower lip carefully.
Brendon seems to be steeling himself, but opens his mouth and lets Ryan’s tongue inside. Their lips slide together and Brendon lets Ryan take over.
The books in Ryan’s hand hit the floor with a loud clunk as his hand goes to Brendon’s neck, pulling his mouth tighter against his. Brendon’s noise is muffled in Ryan’s mouth as he attacks his lips. His teeth are on Brendon’s lower lip, and he isn’t easy. If Brendon was going to give him the opportunity, he would take full advantage. Who knew when it would made available again?
Brendon tastes like dark chocolate, bitter and a little sweet. He isn’t as inexperienced as Ryan had thought. His hand is on the back of Ryan’s shirt, grasping the thin material in his fingers, pulling Ryan closer. Ryan’s hand is on his cheek as he bites his lips and presses his lips harder against them.
Ryan stumbles forward, pushing Brendon down onto the small chair. It’s low to the ground, and Ryan stares down at Brendon, his breathing hard.
Brendon looks flushed and a little nervous as Ryan lowers his body down on top of his. His legs are on either side of Brendon’s thighs, and as he moves, his hips brush against Brendon’s. Brendon lets out a small moan that he tries to muffle.
Ryan smirks a little and leans back in, his lips barely hovering over Brendon’s mouth. "It’s not what you say, it’s what you do, right?" he whispers.
Brendon nods quickly, staring into Ryan’s eyes. Ryan pauses a second before kissing him again.
Ryan can feel Brendon shifting restlessly beneath him, whimpering into his mouth when Ryan’s hips graze his. Ryan leaves Brendon’s mouth with a nip and lets his lips drift over Brendon’s cheek, his jaw, down his throat, until he comes to his neck and breathes in Brendon’s scent. He smells like fresh soap and strawberry shampoo.
He bites his lip for just a second as he feels Brendon’s hips moving under his. His nose is pressed against Brendon’s throat and he lets out a long breath that has Brendon shuddering underneath him.
His tongue flicks over Brendon’s neck and he bites down softly on the tan skin. Brendon keens underneath him and his hips jerk upward, grinding his erection against Ryan’s. Brendon gasps, surprised, and his eyes shoot open.
Ryan doesn’t see, though, busy at Brendon’s neck. His hand, however, slides over Brendon’s chest, pulling down the zipper on his hoodie to reveal another band tee. His hand drifts lower, shoving the shirt up and running over Brendon’s bare skin.
Brendon is trembling beneath him, his senses on overload. He gasps and moans, whimpers and groans, when Ryan moves, rocking his hips downward. Ryan’s pretty sure Brendon’s going to die from all the pleasure he’s experiencing.
As Ryan bites down on Brendon’s neck, his hand slips lower, out from under the tee-shirt. It moves to the button on Brendon’s jeans, deftly undoing it and sliding down the zipper before Brendon has a real grasp of what’s going on.
Brendon realizes fairly quickly, though, and stares down. Ryan’s fingers are stroking the little trail of dark hair that disappears under his boxers. His body is still trembling and it’s difficult to swallow.
He glances at Ryan, his expression scared and aroused at the same time. He wants this, Ryan can tell, but he’s afraid. He’s afraid of what it will mean to him and his family.
Ryan moves in, pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips and Brendon seems to relax just a little. His fingers continue stroking the patch of skin softly. He won’t do anything Brendon doesn’t want him to.
When he pulls back, Brendon nods ever so slightly and Ryan returns it. He kisses him again, then moves his lips back to his neck as he slides his hand under Brendon’s boxers and wraps around his cock easily.
Brendon’s hips jerk in reaction to the unfamiliar touch and he takes a sharp breath. He’s never done this with anyone but his hand before. He tries to keep his breathing steady, but it’s difficult when Ryan’s hand starts to move, stroking up and down the hard length.
Ryan moves slowly at first, building up a strong rhythm. He keeps a close eye on Brendon, listening to his breathing that gets harsher with every tug of his hand. He licks his lips and swallows as he watches Brendon’s face screw up in pleasure, and hears the little whimpers that fall from his lips.
He can feel Brendon’s cock pulsing between his fingers as he strokes harder now, wanting to get Brendon off, wanting him to feel the pleasure that being with a guy can have. He’s surprised when Brendon drags his mouth back for a messy kiss, broken with a sharp gasp from Brendon. Brendon’s staring down at Ryan’s hand that moves quickly over his cock, tugging and twisting just the right way.
He wants to watch, but the force of his climax is too strong and he grits his teeth and throws his head back as he comes. Ryan’s panting into his neck as he brings Brendon through it, and finally, Brendon’s head drops back.
"Wow," he breathes, opening his eyes slowly.
It’s only now that Ryan realizes why Jon keeps the back of his shop so dark. He frowns for just a second, and then glances at Brendon and smiles.
Brendon looks like a sated puppy, tired out after a day of too much playing. He smiles lazily at Ryan.
"That was… wow," he says again.
Ryan laughs and pulls back slightly. "Better to do than to read."
Brendon nods seriously. "Do you want me to…" He glances at Ryan’s erection that is visible through his jeans.
Ryan shakes his head. "Don’t worry about it," he murmurs, then kisses Brendon softly.
Brendon pulls away. "Um, you don’t know my name."
Ryan stares at him for a second, then smiles. "It’s Brendon."
"How do you know?"
"I have my ways," Ryan says mysteriously, climbing off Brendon and allowing him to fix his clothes before heading back to the front.
Brendon reaches the counter a second after Ryan, and leans over it as Ryan hops back onto the stool. "Do your ways involve asking Jon?"
Ryan pauses. "They might."
Brendon grins. "I like Jon. He told me I couldn’t have Dylan, though." He glances at the cat still stretched out on the windowsill.
"No, Jon’s pretty attached," Ryan comments.
Brendon nods and glances back. "He said I could have you."
Ryan laughs. "Don’t I get a say in this?"
Brendon shrugs. "Only if you say yes."
Ryan glances at him. "Tell me why you’ve been coming in here for the past month and sometimes don’t even buy anything."
Brendon kind of sighs and shrugs. "Well, first, it was to find a birthday present for my sister, and then… um, I guess I kinda wanted to see you."
"So the books you bought?"
Brendon smiles sheepishly. "I picked them ‘cause the covers were pretty."
Ryan stares for a second and then laughs. "Did you read them?"
"Yes," Brendon replies, almost indignantly. "The Little Prince was really good."
Ryan smiles. "It is good."
Brendon smiles too. "So…" He’s biting his lip again. "Can I have you? I promise to take good care and never drop you on the floor, and I’ll give you a bath every week, and, and I’ll take you to the park where you can play with other people…" Brendon smiles hopefully, well aware it sounds ludicrous.
Ryan stares for half a second before his face cracks a smile. "It might work, as long as I get lots of space to run. Do you have a backyard?"
Brendon pauses. "Um, I have a hallway."
Ryan nods. "Hm, I suppose a hallway will work." He watches as Brendon’s face cracks into the widest grin he’s ever seen on a person.
"You won’t regret it," he promises and smiles as Ryan pulls him forward by his chin and presses a kiss to his lips.
"I’m sure I won’t."
**
Spencer glares at Ryan across the counter. "So when were you going to tell me that you got a boyfriend?"
Ryan shrugs vaguely, reorganizing the cactus figurines according to height. "Today."
Spencer glares harder.
Ryan sighs. "Look, it just happened this week."
"And Jon was the one who told me," Spencer points out moodily.
Ryan rolls his eyes. "Because you spend so much time with Jon. What are you doing with him anyway, Spencer?"
Spencer goes red and mutters something about inventory while Ryan merely arches an eyebrow.
"And I get in trouble for keeping secrets."
Spencer’s still blushing, but scowls anyway. "Yeah, well, I-You-it-"
Ryan just shakes his head. "Give it up, Spence."
Spencer frowns, but seems to accept it and sighs. "So after you get off, you wanna catch a movie?"
"Can’t," Ryan replies simply, picking up a saguaro figurine and inspecting it.
"Why not?" Spencer demands.
Ryan sets the figurine down. "I have a date."
"With Brendon?"
"The one and only," Ryan replies.
Spencer stares at him for a second, then sighs. "Fine, I guess I’ll ask someone else."
Ryan glances at him and smirks. "Why don’t you and Jon go try out some of those dark corners in this place? They’re there for a reason."
He just laughs as Spencer goes red again, and smiles as he glances out the window. The sun is hanging low and the golden dust has descended over the city again, making everything beautiful.
~~**~~
A/N: I made a wedding cake today! (No special reason, just wanted to see if I could.) :) Here's a picture.
:D anyway, hope you enjoyed the fic!