fic: After All is Said and Done (Coda to the Made of Silver, Not of Clay series)
Title: After All is Said and Done
(Coda to the Made of Silver, Not of Clay series)
Word Count: 1,262
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Brendon/Ryan
Disclaimer: The concept is mine, the boys are not. More's the pity.
Summary: This is what happened after.
Notes: This was actually requested of me months ago, and I forgot about it until today, when I offered to do comment fics. This isn't super long, but long enough that I'm posting it as a separate post rather than as a comment fic. Primarily for blahblahologist, and a tiny bit for monanoche, as anything connected with this series inevitably automatically is. The story takes place several months after the end of Missed Your Skin When You Were East.
After All is Said and Done
Gently, Brendon untied the scarf that was knotted intricately around Ryan's wrists, pressing kisses against the red marks left behind. It wasn't one of his delicate, silk scarves, because even now that he didn't wear them anymore, Ryan didn't want to risk them being ripped. He did let Brendon blindfold him with them, which Brendon loved all the more because then Ryan fought even harder not to squirm, lest the scarf over his eyes catch on something, and it became a challenge for Brendon to break his resolve.
Generally he was successful. Ryan came apart for him every time.
As Ryan gathered him into his arms, Brendon trailed the edge of the scarf over their bodies, looping back and forth. “Have you ever bought any scarves or clothes that you bought before, when you were there?” he asked idly.
Body twitching against Brendon's in a shrug, Ryan replied, “I don't know. None I remember,” and Brendon deflated just a little bit.
They'd been together for months now. Months of learning each other all over again, and Brendon had finally gotten to the point that he was comfortable talking about everything that had gone on between them. It was everything that he wanted.
Or at least. Almost everything.
Patiently, he'd told Ryan everything that he remembered, over and over. With painstaking detail he had described their time together, telling him all of the things that Ryan had forcibly suppressed for years. Brendon wasn't sure why he expected for everything to immediately be back in Ryan's memory, but he had, and to be honest, Ryan recalled a lot. But there were still so many little details that, no matter how many times Brendon recounted them to him, were still hazy or completely blank for Ryan. Brendon knew it had been a lot longer since Ryan had been there, and a lot more trauma had forced him to repress it. He understood that.
It's just that sometimes it was still disappointing, and made worse because Ryan felt guilty every time something like that came up, and then Brendon felt guilty for bringing it up, even though he knew he shouldn't have to.
Setting aside the scarf, he kissed Ryan's stomach, trailing upwards along his chest in an erratic path, and finally ending at his mouth, trying to kiss away what he knew they were both dwelling on, again.
“It's just, sometimes I feel like I should have left him alone and never brought it up again.” Brendon sighed into the phone, twisting onto his back. Ryan was in a poor mood, and had been all day. He kept pacing the bus, and then staring gloomily out the window. When Brendon pressed him about it, Ryan just shrugged him away and said he was sick of it being sunny. That was bullshit. Ryan hated cold weather, damp weather-anything that left him uncomfortable. Finally Brendon had just left him alone. For more than a week Ryan had been withdrawing into himself, with Brendon helpless to do anything. The only time he seemed anything like normal was when they were performing or fucking, and it was driving Brendon up the wall. Anytime he brought it up, Ryan acted like he didn't know what Brendon was talking about.
On the other end of the line, Gerard sighed back sympathetically. “Is that really want either of you would have wanted, Brendon?” he asked gently, and Brendon's mouth twisted inadvertently.
“I want him to be happy, preferably with me, but....I don't think I even know what he wants anymore,” he replied, defeated.
Usually talking to Gerard fixed everything, but by the time he got off the phone, Brendon was feeling just as lost as before. Curling his knees up to his chin, he stared moodily out the back lounge window. In the front of the bus, Spencer, Jon, and Cassie were playing cards (or had been, half an hour ago), and Ryan had persuaded Zack to take him on a Starbucks run. Brendon had taken the opportunity to call Gerard.
Now he mainly just wanted Ryan to come back. In an appropriate reflection of his mood, the sky had started to cloud over, big, heavy storm clouds hanging low and oppressive. “Good,” Brendon muttered to himself, “Ryan will get his damn rain.” He felt unreasonably bitter, like he used to when they were first recording Fever and couldn't get through two bars without some kind of miscommunication.
He stayed back there on the sofa, sending a series of inconsequential texts to Shane, until he heard the bus door open and the guys greeting Ryan and Zack. After another short pause, a thud and the light pad of socked feet told him that Ryan was on his way, so he sat upright and pasted on a smile as the door opened.
“Two extra pumps of vanilla,” Ryan said, like some kind of peace offering, as he held out the cup for Brendon to take. He didn't have to say what the drink itself was; they knew one another's favorites of nearly everything by now.
“Thanks.”
“Hey, Bren....” Ryan trailed off, cleared his throat, and then started again after a glance at the cloudy sky outside. “Want to go for a drive? We'll be back in time for soundcheck and everything; I have it all planned out.”
Skeptically, Brendon looked over. He had a sinking feeling that whatever Ryan was planning, it wasn't going to be something he wanted to hear. Still, it didn't seem like he had a choice. “Yeah...k,” he agreed, standing quickly and zipping his hoodie another inch. Ryan gave him a thin, hopeful-looking smile, and Brendon pretended he hadn't seen it as he flipped his hood over his head and forced a cheerful, “Onward!”
They drove for nearly an hour, Ryan looking anxiously at Brendon out of the corner of his eye now and then. When he pulled off the road, finally, fat raindrops had been falling for the past fifteen minutes, and they were in the middle of nowhere.
“We're in Colorado,” Ryan said, and Brendon amended his mental evaluation to include that they'd crossed the border from Utah to Middle of Nowhere, Colorado.
Ryan fiddled with the keys for a minute, and then climbed out of the car, leaving Brendon gawking after him.
“What are you doing?” he called, and when he got no reply, he sighed and opened his own door, joining Ryan in the rain. “What are you doing?” he demanded again, staring at Ryan as he climbed on top of the car.
Heart speeding up, Brendon looked around again, and without further hesitation, he climbed after Ryan, ignoring the water that soaked into his jeans. “Ryan-” he began, only to Ryan hold up a hand to stop him.
“Do you remember when we bought Cheetos at a gas station in Pennsylvania?” Ryan said, and Brendon furrowed his brow.
“No,” he eventually said, “Why?”
Ryan smiled very softly. “I love you, Brendon Urie. I always have, no matter where we are. No matter what else I do and don't know, I know that. And I hope that's enough.”
Brendon looked around again, at the deserted Colorado highway where Ryan had first told him that he loved him, years or decades or who-knows-how-long ago, and then leaned in to kiss Ryan, tension seeping away from him and running down the sides of the car like the rain.
“I love you. It is,” he said.