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fleurdeliseebckpTitle: Some Things Never Change (But Thankfully Some Do)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fleurdelisee
Beta:devilswhore_x
Word Count: 7800
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: 3rd, Ryan-centric
Summary: It is so familiar that Ryan instinctively reaches to his face to brush his bang away, a reflex pretty useless now seeing as he has since cut his hair.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. If you stumble on this by Googling your name, I beg you to go away. Lyrics belong to Fall Out Boy and the boys and Bryan Adams belong to themselves.
Author Notes: Just a plot bunny that had been digging around my head for a while. I hadn't planned it to be this long but it sort of happened. Many thanks to my wonderful love,devilswhore_x for the amazing b/job and for the support. The porn was unplanned, mind you, and I still don't know how it got in there.
The wind blows his hair in his face as Ryan walks up the Urie’s' front yard. The tall house is identical to what it was the first time he saw it, four years ago, yet it feels completely different. Familiarity, he thinks, as he rings the doorbell.
He stayed in his parked car for ten minutes, trying to gather enough courage to walk to the front door and ring the bell. He knew it was completely silly to be this nervous about something as small as ringing on Brendon's door. He only wanted to ask if he was doing anything that day, and if maybe they could do something together. He had it all planned out in his head.
'If you want to Brendon, you don't have to go, but I just thought it would be nice.' He had it all rehearsed in his head.
The house towered over him as he stood by the door, uncertain. Maybe he had the wrong house? No, it couldn't be, Brendon's purple minivan was parked in the driveway. His hand shook as he reached up and rang the bell. The few seconds that followed seemed never ending, when finally the door opened.
“Ryan!” Brendon's mother warmly says as she opens the door. “Bren's still asleep, I'll go wake him up in a moment. You can go wait in the kitchen if you wish, breakfast is served. Just ask Boyd for a plate.”
“No, thank you, it's fine. I'll go wake him up if you don't mind?” he asks as he struggles to take his shoes off.
“Sure, go ahead,” she smiles and pushes him softly towards the stairs.
Brendon is sprawled on his stomach over his covers. His pale skin is bathed by the ray of light coming through the curtains that had always been too small to cover the entire window. Ryan climbs on the bed and sits next to his boyfriend. He leans in and presses his lips to the soft flesh of his naked ass, replacing it with his hand as he trails open-mouthed kisses all the way up his back to his shoulder, lying on his side as he reaches Brendon's right shoulder.
The younger man groans and turns his head. He opens sleepy eyes and a smile appears on his face as he sees Ryan.
“G'morning,” he mumbles, scooting closer to Ryan and curling himself around him. Ryan's arms instinctively go around him, cradling and holding him close.
“I missed you,” Ryan says into Brendon's hair, and they cling to each other.
“I missed you too. It was a bad idea to stay apart. Bad, bad, bad idea. Bad, bad,” Brendon says, punctuating each word with a kiss to Ryan's neck. “Bad, bad idea. Never again. Love you too much,” he whispers and presses his lips to Ryan's. The thin man melts in the kiss, letting Brendon roll him on his back and straddle him, his hands cupping his face and his calloused fingers softly rubbing circles on his temples.
“I'm taking you out today,” Ryan says once Brendon's lying on top of him, minutes or hours later.
“Where to?” Brendon asks excitedly, his eyes sparkling.
“Los Angeles,” Ryan grins.
Ryan stood awkwardly in the kitchen as Mrs. Urie left to wake up her son. He could feel eyes piercing holes in him, could hear their unspoken questions of 'who the hell is this?' and 'I didn't know Brendon liked hanging out with these people?' hanging in the air. Brendon finally emerged in the room, wearing loose plaid pajama pants and a large Nirvana shirt, his hair sticking in every direction.
“Ryan?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep. “What are you doing here?”
The question wasn't harsh, only clueless and curious. The younger boy rubbed his eyes and looked expectantly at him, his eyebrow cocked in that way Ryan was pretty sure he had no clue was insanely sexual. He cleared his throat and shrugged before looking down.
“Ryan,” Brendon's voice was hard then, demanding, almost begging him not to say those few words that would break his heart.
“No, no. Not that, no,” he said quickly, looking up and meeting Brendon's skeptic eyes.
“No, really. Nothing happened. I was just wondering. Um. Are you busy today? I have to go down to LA and I wanted to know if you maybe would like to come with me?” he blurted out nervously before looking down again. He had the time to catch a glimpse of Brendon's smile though.
“Can I, Dad?” he heard Brendon ask and the affirmative answer that followed made his heart swell.
“Of course I will come with you Ry,” he beamed and Ryan felt his brain melting.
As he drives down the highway, Brendon's iPod plugged in and blasting Bryan Adams through the car, Ryan can feel Brendon's gaze on him. He turns his head slightly and notices his boyfriend staring at him, apparently spaced out. He is grazing his index finger and thumb over his bottom lip absentmindedly.
“What are you thinking?” Ryan asks, lowering the volume of the music (he really, really loves Brendon to endure Summer of '69) and glancing at Brendon.
“Mm. What?” Brendon mutters, blinking and stopping his motion.
“What were you thinking seconds ago?”
“Oh. I was thinking about kissing you. Why?”
“You were stroking your lips. So you always think of kissing me when you stroke your lips?” Ryan asks, a warmth building in him as he thinks of all the times he saw Brendon do this innocent movement.
“I didn't even realize I do it,” Brendon laughs. Ryan grins at him.
“Oh you brought your records?” Brendon exclaims as he digs through the glove box and retrieves a round red case.
“Yeah, I found them in an old box from my room. You can put one in if you want,” Ryan glances as Brendon pulls one out of the paper envelope. He puts it in the player and Ryan laughs and rolls his eyes.
“Pete would murder me if he knew I still have that one,” Ryan chuckles.
The first two hours had been painfully silent. Ryan was staring intently at the road, like something unexpected could suddenly pop out of nowhere. He saw from the corner of his eyes Brendon reaching forward to press play on the CD player. The music instantly filled the silence and he relaxed slightly.
“Still in your Fall Out Boy mood?” Brendon asked.
Ryan looked away from the road to smile at him. “Yeah,” he answered quietly.
Brendon nodded and brought his legs up on the seat. Ryan focused back on the road because if he didn't stop himself, he would stare at Brendon forever and that could be really bad for their health. Ryan began drumming his fingers on the steering as he heard Brendon humming along. He nearly choked when he heard the words he was singing along to, “Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can't say” and he had to mentally slap himself so he would breathe.
He glanced at Brendon minutes later and saw him staring at him, most probably lost in his thoughts. He was softly stroking his bottom lip with his fingers. That small motion was really disturbing, especially when Brendon was staring at him intently like this.
It was a habit Brendon had, Ryan understood that. If he had the opportunity to touch Brendon's lips – because fuck, his lips – he would spend all of his time touching them. Okay, they were Brendon's, which made it odd because people don't usually love their features, and Brendon pretty much admitted weeks before that he didn't really like any part of him so that made no sense.
Brendon really needed to stop this though, especially mixing it with licking his lips. That was really, really bad for Ryan’s concentration. And if he could just stop staring at him like he - like he what?
“I'm hungry Ross. Can we stop at that diner?” Brendon said and gave Ryan a weird look. Ryan blinked, realizing he was frowning and shook it off with a smile.
“Yeah, sure.”
They enter the diner, and it is so familiar that Ryan instinctively reaches to his face to brush his bang away, a reflex pretty useless now seeing as he has since cut his hair. He pushes his sunglasses on the top of his head and smiles at the waitress that has come over to them.
“Two?” she asks without really looking at them. It's eleven and apparently the lunch rush has begun.
“Yes please,” Brendon answers.
They are seated in the middle of the restaurant, loud conversations and screaming children surrounding them.
“Brilliant,” Ryan mutters, opening his menu and looking through it with a cocked eyebrow. “Shit, I don’t remember this place having such a bad selection,” Ryan says, appalled.
“Shut up, I totally remember. You complained the whole time and ended only taking a salad and stealing half of my fries,” Brendon says, grinning at Ryan.
“I think that's what I'll end up doing again,” Ryan says and wrinkles his nose as the list of deep fried food went on and on in front of his eyes. “Seriously, who would order a deep fried cheeseburger?”
“I would,” Brendon points out from behind his menu.
“I know you would. But if you do I'm not touching you for a whole month. You'll have fat seeping out of your pores,” Ryan says darkly.
“No need for lube then,” Brendon says with a smirk.
“You are so disgusting. Remind me why I love you?” Ryan asks while trying to hide his smile.
“The list is too long for me to say it right now. What are you ordering?” Brendon bends over the table to look at Ryan's menu. “This looks like something you would like,” he notes and points one of the pictures.
Ryan isn't even looking at what he's pointing, he's too busy staring at the expense of skin exposed when Brendon's shirt rode up, the two dimples at the base of his spine and the swell of his ass.
Ryan squints at it and smiles. “Yeah, that's something I like.”
“I don't mean my ass. I mean on the menu,” Brendon snaps and hits Ryan's arm playfully before sitting down.
Ryan looks down and nods. “Yeah, okay, you're right, I'll probably like it.”
“I know. I love you. I have to know what you like,” Brendon says, fluttering his eyelashes. Ryan rolls his eyes at Brendon as he bows his head to look at the menu. He puts his elbows on the table, rests his head on his closed fists and makes humming sounds as he looks through it.
“Have you made your choice?” The waitress asks them as she stops by their table.
Ryan orders the Greek salad and Brendon chooses a croque monsieur. Ryan suspects he took it for the name.
While they eat, Brendon babbles about whatever he did when they were apart, and Ryan really tries hard to listen but he can't stop looking at Brendon as he speaks. The way his hands fly around him uncontrollably, his shiny eyes as he tells something that he's excited about, and his lips.
“Are you even listening to what I'm saying?” Brendon's lips stretch into a soft smile, and Ryan can't help but smile back, his smile is contagious.
“Only half of it. I'm getting distracted by you,” Ryan bites his lip as he says that, because it's so sappy it hurts, but Brendon's grin is worth it.
“That's because you haven't seen me in a while, right? So you totally agree that your 'let's not stay together during tour break so we won't get on each other's nerves' plan isn't a good one?”
Brendon is staring at him with his huge brown eyes, pouting, and Ryan is far, far gone. And there are Brendon's lips, fucking there because he's pouting and it aches to stay in his seat and not launch forward to kiss them.
“Worst idea I ever had. Stop pouting now,” Ryan leans in, “I don't think I'll be able to stop myself from kissing you if you continue.”
Brendon's lips stretch into a smile. He moves back in his chair and takes a large bite of his food. He mumbles something as he chews, pointing at Ryan's plate.
“Don't speak with your mouth full,” Ryan replies automatically.
“What are those white things?” he asks after swallowing loudly.
“Feta cheese. Want to taste?” Ryan stabs one crumb with his fork and hands it to Brendon. “So?” he asks as Brendon chews thoughtfully.
“Tastes good, but you taste better.”
Ryan rolls his eyes as he retrieves his fork, their fingers brushing. After all these years, these little unplanned touches still make his heartbeat go faster. Brendon's too, apparently, because he grins stupidly at Ryan.
“Do you think it's still there?” Brendon suddenly asks, putting his glass loudly on the table, his voice choked from swallowing.
“If what's still there?” Ryan asks, pushing an oil soaked olive around his plate with his fork. He looks up at Brendon and quirks his eyebrow.
“Our tag!”
Ryan racks his brain, seeking that very memory. It suddenly hits him full force and he grins.
As soon as they paid the bill, they run to the bathroom excitedly.
“Okay, we did it under the counter, right?” Brendon asks as he bends down to check under it. Ryan tries for a full second not to stare before surrendering. After all, this ass belongs to him and he has every right to stare shamelessly.
“Hey, come here,” Brendon cries.
“Is it still there?” Ryan bends down next to Brendon to see.
Brendon points it and he smiles. His messy handwriting is still there, the four letter long acronym of the name they'd chosen the day before, PATD, no exclamation mark yet. Brendon pushes his shoulder with his, a warm smile on his face.
“I'm going to the bathroom,” Ryan said as he got up.
He entered the room and heard the door opening again. He turned around and saw Brendon standing there with a mischievous smirk on his face. Ryan's head went spinning, hundreds of thousands of theories swirling in his mind, all of them including Brendon pinned to a wall and his lips on his and -
“Look what I've got!” Brendon said excitedly as he pulled a sharpie out of his pocket. “I took it from your car, I hope you don't mind.” Ryan shrugged and Brendon grinned. “Let's see.” He looked around him, twirling the pen between his fingers. “We have to write it somewhere that we'll be sure it'll stay forever. Ah!” He stalked to the counter and bent down.
Ryan swallowed hard as his eyes fell on Brendon's ass. He had always noticed how great it was but he had never seen Brendon bent forward like this, his ass sticking out. He was trying really hard to look away but it was like his eyes were magnetically attracted by it.
“Ryan? You coming?” Oh, it would happen soon if Brendon kept wiggling his ass right in front of his fucking face. “Ryan?” He got up again and raised his eyebrow at him. “I can write it on my own if you want but I thought you'd like to take part of it,” Brendon said.
Oh right, that coming.
He bent down again and Ryan followed him. Brendon handed him the pen and smiled. “The honor is yours.”
Ryan uncapped it and tapped the end of it against his bottom lip as he thought of what to write. Smirking, he leaned in and wrote four letters on the wall.
“What if we change our name before we record?” Brendon asked after muttering the four letters under his breath.
“Then it will only be four random letters written by stupid teenagers,” Ryan shrugged and got up, his knees popping. “Alright, let's go. We still have two hours of road ahead of us.”
Brendon straightened up and walked to one of the urinals. “Okay, I just need to use one of those before we go.”
Ryan stood there as he heard Brendon unzipping his pants. He could feel his heart hitting his ribcage. Brendon craned his neck to look at Ryan.
“Didn't you need to use the bathroom too?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah, right.” He walked to the one next to Brendon's and closed his eyes. The temptation was way too strong. Way too strong. He heard Brendon squealing and he forced his eyes open. He had a faint blush on his face and was avoiding Ryan's eyes. The speed at which his head had moved when Ryan had opened his eyes, was he--?
“You okay?” he asked Brendon as he redid his pants and walked to the counter to wash his hands. Brendon settled on the sink next to his and looked at him in the mirror.
“Yeah, I'm fine. Perfectly fine.” He locked his eyes with Ryan for a split second before turning his back to him and heading for the hand dryers.
Back in the car, Ryan could see out of the corner of his eyes that Brendon was falling asleep. He was curled up on the seat, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees and his head resting on the back of the seat. His eyes were drooping closed and his breathing was getting deeper. Five more minutes and he was asleep. Ryan looked at him tenderly before reaching forward to shut the radio. He was ready to endure the silence if it meant seeing Brendon peacefully asleep like this.
Ryan rolls his eyes as he sees Brendon fast asleep, not an hour after they went back on the road. He can't stay awake during long car rides, especially after a meal. In the past years he would have shut the radio but Brendon told him several times before that it doesn't affect him.
Take This To Your Grave ends and he blindly looks around for Brendon's iPod. He finds it and goes through it, setting it to random after a while. The Cranberries start loudly and Brendon jumps and groans.
“Fuck,” he mumbles and rubs his eyes. “How long have I slept?”
“I don't know, half an hour maybe?” Ryan says, smiling softly at him.
Brendon nods and stretches in the seat. He reaches for Ryan's hand and squeezes it. He pulls it in his lap and puts his other hand on top of their entwined ones.
“You know, people don't believe me when I tell them you are able of being quiet,” Ryan speaks and glances at Brendon. He chuckles and strokes Ryan's hand.
“You calm me down. You're not my heroin, you're my Ritalin,” he laughs loudly at that, brings Ryan's hand to his lips and kisses it. He turns it around and starts kissing from his palm up to his fingers. He kisses the pad of his fingers before mouthing down to his palm again.
“Your hands, Ross. They always drove me insane. You don't even know,” he whispers as he continues to kiss and mouth at his hand and fingers, turning it over and mouthing his knuckles. Ryan can feel his breathing getting shallow and his mind is fogging up.
“Stop it or I'll kill both of us. I can't focus B,” Ryan whispers and tugs his hand away. He locks it on the steering and clears his throat. When he looks at Brendon he is smirking proudly.
They chat happily for the rest of the travel, Ryan almost killing them both when Brendon thought it was a good idea to put his hand on his crotch and squeeze. As they see the outlines of buildings in the distance, Ryan slightly speeds up. They've been sitting in this car forever now and he can't wait to walk around the streets and enjoy the beautiful weather.
Ryan parked the car and they got out, smiling widely at each other and at their surroundings. They began walking, Brendon's pace slightly erratic to match Ryan's long strides, looking around with huge, excited eyes. It wasn’t their first time in Los Angeles, yet they felt like it was. Every shop was an object of awe and admiration, every person looking so extraordinarily special.
“Ry, you gotta look at this shop!” Brendon exclaimed loudly and tugged on Ryan's wrist. “I can't believe people would want to wear these clothes. We've got to go in!”
They entered the shop and Ryan had to hold back his sarcastic remarks as they wandered around. Plaid woolen jackets, paisley shirts, hats with feathers, a whole wall of suspenders, it was all too much for Ryan not to comment. Brendon trying on everything he could find made it really hard for him to keep a straight face, too.
“Try this!” Brendon said, putting a hat with feathers on his head. He searched around for a mirror and scrunched his face at his reflection.
“I think it suits you, actually,” Brendon whispered as he stood behind him, pressed against his back.
“I look like my grandfather,” Ryan snorted and pulled the hat off. “Let's go somewhere else.”
“Oh my god, Ryan Ross look at this,” Brendon gasps and stops walking. Ryan goes back a few steps and stands next to him.
“What?” He looks in the direction Brendon points and he grins. “Is it that shop for real?”
“I think so. Let's go in,” Brendon whispers and grabs his hand to drag him in.
They enter the shop and Ryan's grin is the perfect reflection of Brendon's. It hasn't changed from what he remembers.
“It looks like someone's trying to sell your wardrobe,” Brendon smirks and emphasizes his statement by taking off a shelf a shirt identical to the one Ryan's wearing.
“You remember how much you laughed last time? Who would have believed you would end up being a walking mannequin for them?”
“It's always better than being the mannequin of The Children's Place,” Ryan deadpans with a smirk as they exit the store.
“It's not that bad,” Brendon mutters, pulling his shirt down to try to make it meet the waistband of his pants.
Ryan snorts and bumps his hip against Brendon's. “You know I love it,” he whispers and brushes his fingers lightly on the sliver of the skin of his back exposed.
“Yeah,” Brendon whispers back and leans in, their hips locked together as they walk. “If we weren't in the middle of a crowded street I would totally kiss you.”
“Yes, that, and the fact that we're kind of famous,” Ryan moves away and sighs, glancing around him just in case.
“It's not like paparazzi know us, Ry. Yes, fans could see us and freak out and write all over the Internet that we’re having sex, but we're not interesting for gossip magazines,” Brendon scoffed. Ryan pulls his sunglasses down an inch and stares at Brendon over them.
“Fine, whatever,” he sighs and wraps his arm around Brendon's waist, pulling him closer roughly. Brendon leans in with a smile and his arm goes around Ryan's thin waist as a reflex.
They walk like this for a while, commenting on some of the shops they go past. Ryan drags Brendon in a bookstore and manages to stay there for fifteen minutes before Brendon loses his cool and drags him out.
“I need new jeans,” Brendon comments as they walk past a clothes store. He pulls on Ryan's waist and lead them both in it, immediately heading for the women department. He lets go of Ryan and starts looking through the shelves for the right size and the right cut. Ryan folds his arms over his chest and looks around him as he waits for Brendon who can't decide which shade of blue he should get.
“Bren,” Ryan suddenly says, and Brendon looks up, startled.
“Yes? Ry, I don't know. Should I get the deep blue ones, or the washed ones? I mean, both shades are awesome, but I don't know. What do you think?”
“Bren,” Ryan snaps. “This is the store that you bought your first girls pants from.”
“When you forced me to buy my first girls pants. You sure?” He looks around him and frowns, probably racking through his brain for that memory.
“Yeah, it's possible. It's a small world,” he grins and shrugs, heading for the fitting room.
Ryan follows after him and sits in one of the couches designed for the exasperated boyfriends, and waits. Trying on new jeans is a long and complicated process for Brendon, a process that includes a lot of muttered curses, squirming and limbs hit against the walls of the small space.
“So, what do you think?” he asks as he gets out.
“They look exactly the same as all the others you own,” Ryan comments. “Only a tiny bit lighter. You know what I think of this cut on you, though,” Ryan smirks and crosses his legs meaningfully.
Brendon grins widely and goes back in the room after one last glance at his ass in the mirror.
“I think you need new pants. Yours look like you're wearing a bag. I don't want people in my band wearing horrible clothes. So you need new pants,” Ryan demanded, dragging Brendon into the nearest clothes store.
“I don't,” Brendon whined, letting Ryan lead him around the shop to the men department.
“They won't fit, by the way,” Brendon noted and pointed his chin at the pair Ryan was holding in front of him.
“Don't tell me your waist is wider than that,” Ryan deadpanned as he extended the waistband in front of Brendon.
“Oh no, the waist is never a problem. It's my hips that don't fit.” There was a hint of defiance in his tone, kind of 'I dare you to laugh'. Ryan eyed him because he was allowed for once and smirked.
“Right. So you what, take a size larger to fit your ass?”
“Yeah.” Brendon raised his shirt to show the belt pulled tightly around his waist.
An idea crossed Ryan's mind and he smirked. “Come with me,” he mysteriously whispered and heard Brendon's footstep following him as he crossed the store to the women department.
“Oh no. Fuck no, George Ryan Ross, I am not wearing girls pants. I'll allow you to put that stupid make up on my face before I wear girls pants,” Brendon snapped and when Ryan turned to look at him, he was standing in the middle of the aisle with his arms folded across his chest and a defiant look in his eyes.
“You have a big ass and broad hips. Girls too. It will fit you,” Ryan sighed and tried to drag Brendon towards the shelves.
“Yeah but they don't have dicks. I am not wearing girl’s pants. I may be gay, but I'm not that gay,” Brendon groaned and stayed put. Ryan stared at him and blinked a few times.
“You're gay?” He tried to keep his voice even when all he wanted was to start dancing because now there were a hundred of possibilities that had appeared for him and he really, really wanted to shout.
Brendon seemed to shrink, his shoulders sinking in and his head lowering. “Does it bother you?” he asked, his voice was small and scared.
“No!” Ryan said maybe too excitedly. “I just thought I was the only one in the band,” he added and smirked at Brendon when he looked up. Brendon smirked back, something unidentified glistening in his eyes.
“I kind of figured. I'll try one pair. One. If I look like an idiot, I am not buying them.”
“You won't regret it!” Ryan dragged him to the shelves and began pulling jeans off of it, putting them in front of Brendon to gauge his size. Once he settled on one, he asked Brendon which color he preferred. He pointed one with a sigh and followed Ryan to the fitting room, sighing as if he was walking to his death.
“Just try them on and stay open-minded,” Ryan said, pushing him in and stood by the door.
He heard Brendon swearing loudly, and then rambling about how he was never going to be able to have kids with how tight these pants were, and that he wondered how he was ever going to breathe while wearing them.
Brendon eventually came out, a hand over his eyes in a dramatic way. “I look stupid, I know it. Let me take them off,” he whimpered.
Ryan couldn't process any thoughts as he stared at Brendon.
“Bren, just look at yourself,” he managed to let out breathlessly.
Sighing, he uncovered his eyes and turned to face the mirror. His eyes visibly widened and he walked closer to it. He turned around and craned his neck to look in the mirror, and then the smirk on his face was enough to fog Ryan's mind.
“Okay, fine. I'm buying them. You were right, I'm smoking hot in those,” he said through his grin as he neared Ryan. He leaned in and pecked his cheek. “Thanks Ry.”
He disappeared in the room and Ryan inhaled sharply. He leaned his back on the wall and put his hands flat next to his body. He tried to calm his breathing but he felt like a school girl, overreacting for something as small as a peck on the cheek, but it was from Brendon and his lips and Ryan was really having trouble breathing.
Brendon got out of the fitting room and gave Ryan a strange look. Then he shrugged and smiled at Ryan.
“You should get more than one pair of these,” Ryan said in a voice slightly too high pitched for him.
“Yeah? Okay. Which shades?”
“Whichever you want.”
“I don't know. You know what I want though? Ice cream,” Brendon squealed and looked at Ryan with huge, pleading eyes.
“Yes, fine,” Ryan sighs playfully while picking up two pairs of jeans and dropping them in Brendon's hands.
They paid and began looking around the streets to find an ice cream parlor. Once they found it, it took Brendon five minutes to choose what flavor he wanted. Ryan automatically asked for pistachio but Brendon was stuck between his love of chocolate and the inviting colors of bubble gum.
They exited the shop, Brendon with a scoop of each on his sugar cone, and Ryan began talking about how they needed to find a bookstore so he could buy something to read but as he continued to walk, he noticed Brendon wasn't following him anymore. He went back the few steps between them and looked at the window Brendon was staring at. His ice cream was melting over his hand but he was fixated on whatever was behind that window.
Ryan saw the cello and a smile spread across his face.
“Don't you already own one?” Ryan asked playfully.
“Yes, but this one is so fucking beautiful...” Brendon trailed off and walked nearer to the window, squinting to look at the instrument more closely.
“What about we finish our cones and you go in there and ask if you can try it?” Ryan suggested and Brendon turned his gaze on him and Ryan felt for a second like the most beautiful thing in the world by the way Brendon was staring at him.
“You think they would let me?” He didn't even wait for the answer and started licking his cone quickly. Ryan almost had to look away.
“You have ice cream all over your hand by the way,” he commented stiffly.
“Oh, right, thanks,” Brendon mumbled before licking his hand and that time, Ryan really had to look away.
“Slow down Bren, you'll get a brain freeze. It won't run away,” Ryan said, chuckling lightly.
Brendon pouted but slowed down. They finished their cones still way too quickly for Ryan's liking and entered the shop. It was dark and quiet inside, it smelled of dust and polish. Brendon stayed near the entrance, his eyes flying to every instrument present in the shop.
“Go ask,” Ryan whispered and pushed his back slightly. Brendon shook his head and stared at Ryan with huge, nervous eyes.
“Fine,” Ryan sighed just for the act, he was ready to do anything for Brendon. He walked to the counter and rang the small bell. A man entered by a door hidden by a bead curtain and smiled at him.
“How may I help you?” he asked.
“My friend wants to know if he can try the cello in the display?” Ryan asked and the man glanced at Brendon.
“Yes, sure. You can sit on this chair. I'll get it for you,” the man said kindly and crossed the store. Brendon scrambled to the chair and sat on the edge of it, his fingers twitching where they were resting on his knees. The salesman handed him the instrument and Brendon beamed at him.
“Thank you,” he whispered and sat completely in the chair. He spread his legs – much to Ryan’s frustration – and positioned the cello between his thighs ceremoniously. He plucked the strings a few times and frowned before beginning to tune it.
Ryan met the gaze of the man and they exchanged a smile. A rich music filled the shop, Ryan turned his eyes on Brendon and stared in awe. His eyes were closed and his brows furrowed in concentration. He was chewing on his bottom lip and in another world Ryan was now used to.
Ryan didn't know how long Brendon played but when he stopped, it was to smile ecstatically at the shop owner. “Thanks sir,” he said fondly and got up clumsily, his eyes still not quite focused.
“I love chocolate ice cream,” Brendon moans as he licks his cone another time. “Can I taste yours?” he asks and makes a grabby hand at Ryan's cone.
Ryan only half hears him and barely notices when Brendon yanks his arm toward him to lick his cone. He's too lost staring at the window in front of him, hardly believing his eyes.
“B, look at this,” Ryan whispers and tucks Brendon by his shirt to drag him near the window. Brendon yelps before doing a double take at the window.
“No way,” he breathes out and looks at Ryan. They stare at each other before their faces split in similar grins.
“You know I'm buying it this time, right? It's the best I ever played on,” Brendon said excitedly.
“I know. I would have bought it for you if you hadn't, idiot,” Ryan deadpans and doubles his speed to eat his pistachio cone. Brendon does the same, a wide grin still on his face.
They enter the shop, glancing around to see that nothing has changed. The same man is standing next to a girl playing on a violin and he waves at them to wait a second. He says a few things to the girl and walks to meet them.
“How may I help you?” he asks and then his smile widens. “I remember you two! You tried that cello,” he points the one in the display, “you're the only one who could actually play who tried it!” he said animatedly.
“Yes, and now I'm coming to buy it,” Brendon says, trying to sound calm and adult. Ryan, though, could hear the excitement seeping through his voice. He eyes them both and Ryan imagines his thoughts, mainly involving that he probably can't afford it.
“I can afford it,” Brendon points out and smirks as the man clears his throat with unease.
The transaction takes forever. While Brendon discusses with the man about whatever needs to be said when buying a cello, he wanders around the store, looking at the guitars and violins. He meets the girl's eyes and she smiles knowingly at him, a small blush appearing on her cheeks. He waves and smiles back, tensing slightly.
Brendon is suddenly hanging on his neck, hugging him tightly and bouncing.
“You don't know how long I've dreamed of coming back here to buy it. I was so convinced it was gone by now. Thanks for taking me here,” he rambles in Ryan's ear.
“B... Careful. The girl over there, she knows us,” Ryan whispers and pushes Brendon away.
He pouts and shrugs it off because the man is coming towards them with the instrument in its case.
“It's all yours now,” the man smiles. Brendon squeals and takes the case with shaking hands.
“I'm so happy right now Ry,” he leans in and pecks Ryan's cheek. Ryan swallows uncomfortably and motions his head towards the girl. Brendon shrugs and as they exit the shop, he shouts 'keep it to yourself please' in her direction before smiling at Ryan.
“Like she will,” Ryan mumbles.
“It doesn't matter. How many times has it been said we were dating over the Internet? If she has no proofs they won't believe her. Stop freaking out,” Brendon whispers in his ear and plants a series of small kisses on his cheek.
Brendon elbowed Ryan repetitively until he groaned and turned on his side. “What?”
“I had a blast today. Thank you,” he said softly and smiled at Ryan. He squirmed to lie on his stomach and put his head on his folded arms.
“The sky's up there, by the way,” Ryan commented sarcastically and pointed upwards.
“I know but I have something prettier to look at,” he mumbled, his eyes piercing holes in Ryan's skin. He was mindlessly grazing his thumb over his bottom lip.
Ryan rolled on his side to look at him and Brendon smiled softly. The empty boxes of Chinese food they ate for dinner were discarded around them, the grass was prickling Ryan's cheek but it didn't matter because his eyes were locked with Brendon's and none of them had moved for something that felt like years. Brendon rolled on his side and faced Ryan, their knees brushing as he brought his legs up. He reached forward and took Ryan's hand in his, entwining their fingers. Ryan took his eyes off Brendon's to stare at their hands, his breathing somehow faster than seconds before.
When he looked up again, Brendon's face was inches away from his. He could feel his breath on his lips, quick and shallow like his. He leaned in and their lips brushed. Ryan closed his eyes and whimpered, moving in and kissing Brendon square on the mouth. Brendon let go of his hand to grab his face, fingers curling behind his head, keeping him close as he began kissing Ryan's mouth frantically. Ryan parted his lips and darted his tongue out to lick Brendon's lips. He heard him moaning, his tongue meeting his.
They kissed and kissed and kissed and suddenly Brendon was on top of Ryan, Ryan's hands roaming on his back under his shirt.
“I want you,” Brendon murmured into the kiss, panting and barely stopping long enough for him to finish his sentence, “I want this more than anything right now. Please.”
He lifted himself on his knees, his mouth still connected to Ryan's, and trailed his hand down his chest and lightly brushed it on the fly of Ryan's pants as if to emphasize his demand.
“I've been waiting for too long to wait any longer. Please, Ry, please, please, please.”
Ryan groaned and pushed Brendon off him, scrambling to his feet and then pulling him up. He dragged him to his car, pushing him against it to kiss him while trying to open the back door, one hand fisted in Brendon's shirt. The door clicked open and he pushed Brendon in before crawling on top of him. He smiled at him, his hair hanging like curtains each sides of his face, before diving in to kiss him again. Brendon's hands squeezed his ass and pulled it down to make their hips crash. They both moaned in the kiss and Ryan pulled away, panting. He blindly reached behind him and tried to shut the door but Brendon's feet were in the way.
“Can you just--” he tugged on Brendon's thighs until he understood and put his feet on the seat so Ryan could close the door.
“Wait--” Brendon groaned and sat up on the seat. He backed up to rest his back against the other door and pulled Ryan towards him by his shirt roughly. Ryan moved to straddle his thighs and resumed the kiss.
Ryan rolled his hips and Brendon gasped, his hands clawing at Ryan's shirt, bringing him even closer. Brendon's hands slid down his back and around his waist to reach the button of his jeans. He undid it and slowly unzipped his fly. Ryan threw his head back as the tip of Brendon's fingers brushed against his hardening cock. Ryan got up on his knees for Brendon to pull his pants and underwear down. As he did, Brendon groaned from the back of his throat. Ryan watched him eagerly as he undid his own pants, his shaking fingers struggling with his belt buckle. Ryan lift his hips up so Brendon could push his pants down and then he pushed his hips down.
They both moaned loudly at the friction of skin on skin and it was dizzying and overwhelming, and as they built a pace Ryan could only focus on kissing Brendon with all he had, his hips grinding down forcefully to meet Brendon's.
The rhythm didn't last long. As they were nearing their orgasms, their movements were getting more and more erratic until there was no rhythm anymore. Brendon came first with a loud shout of Ryan's name, and then Ryan followed, his entire body shaking from the tensed muscles. He rest his forehead on Brendon's shoulder and felt his fingers threading in his hair. He snuggled into him, burying his face in the crook of Brendon's sweat slick neck.
“I see Ursa Major,” Brendon chants happily.
They are lying on their back on a torn plaid blanket Ryan found in the trunk of his car – probably forgotten there after a picnic with Spencer and Jon last summer – staring at the starry sky over them.
“Where?” Ryan asks, curling into Brendon's side and hiding his face in his neck with a content sigh.
“The sky is up there, by the way,” Brendon jokes before wrapping his arms around Ryan, pulling him closer.
“I love you,” Ryan whispers in his neck and Brendon squeezes him tighter.
Ryan feels his fingers lifting his chin up and their lips meet in a lazy kiss. Brendon shifts and squirms around until he's leveled with Ryan so they can kiss better. His leg curls around Ryan's and he wraps his arm around his waist.
“I love you too,” Brendon murmurs in between kisses.
After one last kiss, he rests his forehead against Ryan's and pecks his nose. Ryan is absentmindedly stroking Brendon's bare hip while humming happily.
“Are we going to have sex on the backseat of your car?” Brendon whispers while chuckling. “That's what comes next, you know.”
"Mm,” Ryan mumbles, shifting closer to Brendon and feeling his arms pull him flat against his chest. “I should say no because you're too classy for the backseat of my car but really, it's only because last time I couldn't walk straight for days because my back hurt,” he pauses for a second, “and we're not doing it here. You know what I think about outdoor sex.”
Brendon sighs playfully and turns on his back, Ryan's head automatically going to rest on his chest.
“I'm glad I kissed you that night,” he whispers while tracing patterns on Brendon's chest.
“It would have happened one day or another. I wouldn't have been able to stay away from you for much longer. I was the epitome of pining.”
Ryan chuckles softly but as Brendon laughs too, the vibrations in his chest make Ryan laugh even more.
“We should go back to Vegas,” Brendon whispers, stroking Ryan's hair.
“We should. You drive,” Ryan mumbles and stretches. He gets on his feet and helps Brendon up. Brendon folds the blanket while Ryan looks for a garbage can to throw the boxes of food in. He gets in the passenger seat and curls up on himself. Brendon gets behind the wheel and leans in to kiss the top of Ryan's head before turning the engine on.
The cello is safely laid on the backseat. As they exit Los Angeles it begins to rain and Ryan smiles. He loves being in a car at night under the rain. He likes the feeling of safety, the cocoon the car creates around them and the sound of the rain on the roof and windows. Ryan tries to fight sleep as long as he can, but he can feel his eyelids closing. All he can see is Brendon's profile, a small smile on his face because he knows Ryan's looking at him. Somehow, Bryan Adams is once again playing, at a low volume because Brendon knows Ryan can't sleep with loud music. He feels Brendon's hand slipping in his and hears him softly singing along. That's all it takes for him to surrender to sleep, mumbling 'I love you' and hearing it back before completely passing out, a smile on his face.
Author:
fleurdeliseeBeta:
devilswhore_xWord Count: 7800
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: 3rd, Ryan-centric
Summary: It is so familiar that Ryan instinctively reaches to his face to brush his bang away, a reflex pretty useless now seeing as he has since cut his hair.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. If you stumble on this by Googling your name, I beg you to go away. Lyrics belong to Fall Out Boy and the boys and Bryan Adams belong to themselves.
Author Notes: Just a plot bunny that had been digging around my head for a while. I hadn't planned it to be this long but it sort of happened. Many thanks to my wonderful love,
devilswhore_x for the amazing b/job and for the support. The porn was unplanned, mind you, and I still don't know how it got in there.The wind blows his hair in his face as Ryan walks up the Urie’s' front yard. The tall house is identical to what it was the first time he saw it, four years ago, yet it feels completely different. Familiarity, he thinks, as he rings the doorbell.
He stayed in his parked car for ten minutes, trying to gather enough courage to walk to the front door and ring the bell. He knew it was completely silly to be this nervous about something as small as ringing on Brendon's door. He only wanted to ask if he was doing anything that day, and if maybe they could do something together. He had it all planned out in his head.
'If you want to Brendon, you don't have to go, but I just thought it would be nice.' He had it all rehearsed in his head.
The house towered over him as he stood by the door, uncertain. Maybe he had the wrong house? No, it couldn't be, Brendon's purple minivan was parked in the driveway. His hand shook as he reached up and rang the bell. The few seconds that followed seemed never ending, when finally the door opened.
“Ryan!” Brendon's mother warmly says as she opens the door. “Bren's still asleep, I'll go wake him up in a moment. You can go wait in the kitchen if you wish, breakfast is served. Just ask Boyd for a plate.”
“No, thank you, it's fine. I'll go wake him up if you don't mind?” he asks as he struggles to take his shoes off.
“Sure, go ahead,” she smiles and pushes him softly towards the stairs.
Brendon is sprawled on his stomach over his covers. His pale skin is bathed by the ray of light coming through the curtains that had always been too small to cover the entire window. Ryan climbs on the bed and sits next to his boyfriend. He leans in and presses his lips to the soft flesh of his naked ass, replacing it with his hand as he trails open-mouthed kisses all the way up his back to his shoulder, lying on his side as he reaches Brendon's right shoulder.
The younger man groans and turns his head. He opens sleepy eyes and a smile appears on his face as he sees Ryan.
“G'morning,” he mumbles, scooting closer to Ryan and curling himself around him. Ryan's arms instinctively go around him, cradling and holding him close.
“I missed you,” Ryan says into Brendon's hair, and they cling to each other.
“I missed you too. It was a bad idea to stay apart. Bad, bad, bad idea. Bad, bad,” Brendon says, punctuating each word with a kiss to Ryan's neck. “Bad, bad idea. Never again. Love you too much,” he whispers and presses his lips to Ryan's. The thin man melts in the kiss, letting Brendon roll him on his back and straddle him, his hands cupping his face and his calloused fingers softly rubbing circles on his temples.
“I'm taking you out today,” Ryan says once Brendon's lying on top of him, minutes or hours later.
“Where to?” Brendon asks excitedly, his eyes sparkling.
“Los Angeles,” Ryan grins.
Ryan stood awkwardly in the kitchen as Mrs. Urie left to wake up her son. He could feel eyes piercing holes in him, could hear their unspoken questions of 'who the hell is this?' and 'I didn't know Brendon liked hanging out with these people?' hanging in the air. Brendon finally emerged in the room, wearing loose plaid pajama pants and a large Nirvana shirt, his hair sticking in every direction.
“Ryan?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep. “What are you doing here?”
The question wasn't harsh, only clueless and curious. The younger boy rubbed his eyes and looked expectantly at him, his eyebrow cocked in that way Ryan was pretty sure he had no clue was insanely sexual. He cleared his throat and shrugged before looking down.
“Ryan,” Brendon's voice was hard then, demanding, almost begging him not to say those few words that would break his heart.
“No, no. Not that, no,” he said quickly, looking up and meeting Brendon's skeptic eyes.
“No, really. Nothing happened. I was just wondering. Um. Are you busy today? I have to go down to LA and I wanted to know if you maybe would like to come with me?” he blurted out nervously before looking down again. He had the time to catch a glimpse of Brendon's smile though.
“Can I, Dad?” he heard Brendon ask and the affirmative answer that followed made his heart swell.
“Of course I will come with you Ry,” he beamed and Ryan felt his brain melting.
As he drives down the highway, Brendon's iPod plugged in and blasting Bryan Adams through the car, Ryan can feel Brendon's gaze on him. He turns his head slightly and notices his boyfriend staring at him, apparently spaced out. He is grazing his index finger and thumb over his bottom lip absentmindedly.
“What are you thinking?” Ryan asks, lowering the volume of the music (he really, really loves Brendon to endure Summer of '69) and glancing at Brendon.
“Mm. What?” Brendon mutters, blinking and stopping his motion.
“What were you thinking seconds ago?”
“Oh. I was thinking about kissing you. Why?”
“You were stroking your lips. So you always think of kissing me when you stroke your lips?” Ryan asks, a warmth building in him as he thinks of all the times he saw Brendon do this innocent movement.
“I didn't even realize I do it,” Brendon laughs. Ryan grins at him.
“Oh you brought your records?” Brendon exclaims as he digs through the glove box and retrieves a round red case.
“Yeah, I found them in an old box from my room. You can put one in if you want,” Ryan glances as Brendon pulls one out of the paper envelope. He puts it in the player and Ryan laughs and rolls his eyes.
“Pete would murder me if he knew I still have that one,” Ryan chuckles.
The first two hours had been painfully silent. Ryan was staring intently at the road, like something unexpected could suddenly pop out of nowhere. He saw from the corner of his eyes Brendon reaching forward to press play on the CD player. The music instantly filled the silence and he relaxed slightly.
“Still in your Fall Out Boy mood?” Brendon asked.
Ryan looked away from the road to smile at him. “Yeah,” he answered quietly.
Brendon nodded and brought his legs up on the seat. Ryan focused back on the road because if he didn't stop himself, he would stare at Brendon forever and that could be really bad for their health. Ryan began drumming his fingers on the steering as he heard Brendon humming along. He nearly choked when he heard the words he was singing along to, “Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can't say” and he had to mentally slap himself so he would breathe.
He glanced at Brendon minutes later and saw him staring at him, most probably lost in his thoughts. He was softly stroking his bottom lip with his fingers. That small motion was really disturbing, especially when Brendon was staring at him intently like this.
It was a habit Brendon had, Ryan understood that. If he had the opportunity to touch Brendon's lips – because fuck, his lips – he would spend all of his time touching them. Okay, they were Brendon's, which made it odd because people don't usually love their features, and Brendon pretty much admitted weeks before that he didn't really like any part of him so that made no sense.
Brendon really needed to stop this though, especially mixing it with licking his lips. That was really, really bad for Ryan’s concentration. And if he could just stop staring at him like he - like he what?
“I'm hungry Ross. Can we stop at that diner?” Brendon said and gave Ryan a weird look. Ryan blinked, realizing he was frowning and shook it off with a smile.
“Yeah, sure.”
They enter the diner, and it is so familiar that Ryan instinctively reaches to his face to brush his bang away, a reflex pretty useless now seeing as he has since cut his hair. He pushes his sunglasses on the top of his head and smiles at the waitress that has come over to them.
“Two?” she asks without really looking at them. It's eleven and apparently the lunch rush has begun.
“Yes please,” Brendon answers.
They are seated in the middle of the restaurant, loud conversations and screaming children surrounding them.
“Brilliant,” Ryan mutters, opening his menu and looking through it with a cocked eyebrow. “Shit, I don’t remember this place having such a bad selection,” Ryan says, appalled.
“Shut up, I totally remember. You complained the whole time and ended only taking a salad and stealing half of my fries,” Brendon says, grinning at Ryan.
“I think that's what I'll end up doing again,” Ryan says and wrinkles his nose as the list of deep fried food went on and on in front of his eyes. “Seriously, who would order a deep fried cheeseburger?”
“I would,” Brendon points out from behind his menu.
“I know you would. But if you do I'm not touching you for a whole month. You'll have fat seeping out of your pores,” Ryan says darkly.
“No need for lube then,” Brendon says with a smirk.
“You are so disgusting. Remind me why I love you?” Ryan asks while trying to hide his smile.
“The list is too long for me to say it right now. What are you ordering?” Brendon bends over the table to look at Ryan's menu. “This looks like something you would like,” he notes and points one of the pictures.
Ryan isn't even looking at what he's pointing, he's too busy staring at the expense of skin exposed when Brendon's shirt rode up, the two dimples at the base of his spine and the swell of his ass.
Ryan squints at it and smiles. “Yeah, that's something I like.”
“I don't mean my ass. I mean on the menu,” Brendon snaps and hits Ryan's arm playfully before sitting down.
Ryan looks down and nods. “Yeah, okay, you're right, I'll probably like it.”
“I know. I love you. I have to know what you like,” Brendon says, fluttering his eyelashes. Ryan rolls his eyes at Brendon as he bows his head to look at the menu. He puts his elbows on the table, rests his head on his closed fists and makes humming sounds as he looks through it.
“Have you made your choice?” The waitress asks them as she stops by their table.
Ryan orders the Greek salad and Brendon chooses a croque monsieur. Ryan suspects he took it for the name.
While they eat, Brendon babbles about whatever he did when they were apart, and Ryan really tries hard to listen but he can't stop looking at Brendon as he speaks. The way his hands fly around him uncontrollably, his shiny eyes as he tells something that he's excited about, and his lips.
“Are you even listening to what I'm saying?” Brendon's lips stretch into a soft smile, and Ryan can't help but smile back, his smile is contagious.
“Only half of it. I'm getting distracted by you,” Ryan bites his lip as he says that, because it's so sappy it hurts, but Brendon's grin is worth it.
“That's because you haven't seen me in a while, right? So you totally agree that your 'let's not stay together during tour break so we won't get on each other's nerves' plan isn't a good one?”
Brendon is staring at him with his huge brown eyes, pouting, and Ryan is far, far gone. And there are Brendon's lips, fucking there because he's pouting and it aches to stay in his seat and not launch forward to kiss them.
“Worst idea I ever had. Stop pouting now,” Ryan leans in, “I don't think I'll be able to stop myself from kissing you if you continue.”
Brendon's lips stretch into a smile. He moves back in his chair and takes a large bite of his food. He mumbles something as he chews, pointing at Ryan's plate.
“Don't speak with your mouth full,” Ryan replies automatically.
“What are those white things?” he asks after swallowing loudly.
“Feta cheese. Want to taste?” Ryan stabs one crumb with his fork and hands it to Brendon. “So?” he asks as Brendon chews thoughtfully.
“Tastes good, but you taste better.”
Ryan rolls his eyes as he retrieves his fork, their fingers brushing. After all these years, these little unplanned touches still make his heartbeat go faster. Brendon's too, apparently, because he grins stupidly at Ryan.
“Do you think it's still there?” Brendon suddenly asks, putting his glass loudly on the table, his voice choked from swallowing.
“If what's still there?” Ryan asks, pushing an oil soaked olive around his plate with his fork. He looks up at Brendon and quirks his eyebrow.
“Our tag!”
Ryan racks his brain, seeking that very memory. It suddenly hits him full force and he grins.
As soon as they paid the bill, they run to the bathroom excitedly.
“Okay, we did it under the counter, right?” Brendon asks as he bends down to check under it. Ryan tries for a full second not to stare before surrendering. After all, this ass belongs to him and he has every right to stare shamelessly.
“Hey, come here,” Brendon cries.
“Is it still there?” Ryan bends down next to Brendon to see.
Brendon points it and he smiles. His messy handwriting is still there, the four letter long acronym of the name they'd chosen the day before, PATD, no exclamation mark yet. Brendon pushes his shoulder with his, a warm smile on his face.
“I'm going to the bathroom,” Ryan said as he got up.
He entered the room and heard the door opening again. He turned around and saw Brendon standing there with a mischievous smirk on his face. Ryan's head went spinning, hundreds of thousands of theories swirling in his mind, all of them including Brendon pinned to a wall and his lips on his and -
“Look what I've got!” Brendon said excitedly as he pulled a sharpie out of his pocket. “I took it from your car, I hope you don't mind.” Ryan shrugged and Brendon grinned. “Let's see.” He looked around him, twirling the pen between his fingers. “We have to write it somewhere that we'll be sure it'll stay forever. Ah!” He stalked to the counter and bent down.
Ryan swallowed hard as his eyes fell on Brendon's ass. He had always noticed how great it was but he had never seen Brendon bent forward like this, his ass sticking out. He was trying really hard to look away but it was like his eyes were magnetically attracted by it.
“Ryan? You coming?” Oh, it would happen soon if Brendon kept wiggling his ass right in front of his fucking face. “Ryan?” He got up again and raised his eyebrow at him. “I can write it on my own if you want but I thought you'd like to take part of it,” Brendon said.
Oh right, that coming.
He bent down again and Ryan followed him. Brendon handed him the pen and smiled. “The honor is yours.”
Ryan uncapped it and tapped the end of it against his bottom lip as he thought of what to write. Smirking, he leaned in and wrote four letters on the wall.
“What if we change our name before we record?” Brendon asked after muttering the four letters under his breath.
“Then it will only be four random letters written by stupid teenagers,” Ryan shrugged and got up, his knees popping. “Alright, let's go. We still have two hours of road ahead of us.”
Brendon straightened up and walked to one of the urinals. “Okay, I just need to use one of those before we go.”
Ryan stood there as he heard Brendon unzipping his pants. He could feel his heart hitting his ribcage. Brendon craned his neck to look at Ryan.
“Didn't you need to use the bathroom too?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah, right.” He walked to the one next to Brendon's and closed his eyes. The temptation was way too strong. Way too strong. He heard Brendon squealing and he forced his eyes open. He had a faint blush on his face and was avoiding Ryan's eyes. The speed at which his head had moved when Ryan had opened his eyes, was he--?
“You okay?” he asked Brendon as he redid his pants and walked to the counter to wash his hands. Brendon settled on the sink next to his and looked at him in the mirror.
“Yeah, I'm fine. Perfectly fine.” He locked his eyes with Ryan for a split second before turning his back to him and heading for the hand dryers.
Back in the car, Ryan could see out of the corner of his eyes that Brendon was falling asleep. He was curled up on the seat, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees and his head resting on the back of the seat. His eyes were drooping closed and his breathing was getting deeper. Five more minutes and he was asleep. Ryan looked at him tenderly before reaching forward to shut the radio. He was ready to endure the silence if it meant seeing Brendon peacefully asleep like this.
Ryan rolls his eyes as he sees Brendon fast asleep, not an hour after they went back on the road. He can't stay awake during long car rides, especially after a meal. In the past years he would have shut the radio but Brendon told him several times before that it doesn't affect him.
Take This To Your Grave ends and he blindly looks around for Brendon's iPod. He finds it and goes through it, setting it to random after a while. The Cranberries start loudly and Brendon jumps and groans.
“Fuck,” he mumbles and rubs his eyes. “How long have I slept?”
“I don't know, half an hour maybe?” Ryan says, smiling softly at him.
Brendon nods and stretches in the seat. He reaches for Ryan's hand and squeezes it. He pulls it in his lap and puts his other hand on top of their entwined ones.
“You know, people don't believe me when I tell them you are able of being quiet,” Ryan speaks and glances at Brendon. He chuckles and strokes Ryan's hand.
“You calm me down. You're not my heroin, you're my Ritalin,” he laughs loudly at that, brings Ryan's hand to his lips and kisses it. He turns it around and starts kissing from his palm up to his fingers. He kisses the pad of his fingers before mouthing down to his palm again.
“Your hands, Ross. They always drove me insane. You don't even know,” he whispers as he continues to kiss and mouth at his hand and fingers, turning it over and mouthing his knuckles. Ryan can feel his breathing getting shallow and his mind is fogging up.
“Stop it or I'll kill both of us. I can't focus B,” Ryan whispers and tugs his hand away. He locks it on the steering and clears his throat. When he looks at Brendon he is smirking proudly.
They chat happily for the rest of the travel, Ryan almost killing them both when Brendon thought it was a good idea to put his hand on his crotch and squeeze. As they see the outlines of buildings in the distance, Ryan slightly speeds up. They've been sitting in this car forever now and he can't wait to walk around the streets and enjoy the beautiful weather.
Ryan parked the car and they got out, smiling widely at each other and at their surroundings. They began walking, Brendon's pace slightly erratic to match Ryan's long strides, looking around with huge, excited eyes. It wasn’t their first time in Los Angeles, yet they felt like it was. Every shop was an object of awe and admiration, every person looking so extraordinarily special.
“Ry, you gotta look at this shop!” Brendon exclaimed loudly and tugged on Ryan's wrist. “I can't believe people would want to wear these clothes. We've got to go in!”
They entered the shop and Ryan had to hold back his sarcastic remarks as they wandered around. Plaid woolen jackets, paisley shirts, hats with feathers, a whole wall of suspenders, it was all too much for Ryan not to comment. Brendon trying on everything he could find made it really hard for him to keep a straight face, too.
“Try this!” Brendon said, putting a hat with feathers on his head. He searched around for a mirror and scrunched his face at his reflection.
“I think it suits you, actually,” Brendon whispered as he stood behind him, pressed against his back.
“I look like my grandfather,” Ryan snorted and pulled the hat off. “Let's go somewhere else.”
“Oh my god, Ryan Ross look at this,” Brendon gasps and stops walking. Ryan goes back a few steps and stands next to him.
“What?” He looks in the direction Brendon points and he grins. “Is it that shop for real?”
“I think so. Let's go in,” Brendon whispers and grabs his hand to drag him in.
They enter the shop and Ryan's grin is the perfect reflection of Brendon's. It hasn't changed from what he remembers.
“It looks like someone's trying to sell your wardrobe,” Brendon smirks and emphasizes his statement by taking off a shelf a shirt identical to the one Ryan's wearing.
“You remember how much you laughed last time? Who would have believed you would end up being a walking mannequin for them?”
“It's always better than being the mannequin of The Children's Place,” Ryan deadpans with a smirk as they exit the store.
“It's not that bad,” Brendon mutters, pulling his shirt down to try to make it meet the waistband of his pants.
Ryan snorts and bumps his hip against Brendon's. “You know I love it,” he whispers and brushes his fingers lightly on the sliver of the skin of his back exposed.
“Yeah,” Brendon whispers back and leans in, their hips locked together as they walk. “If we weren't in the middle of a crowded street I would totally kiss you.”
“Yes, that, and the fact that we're kind of famous,” Ryan moves away and sighs, glancing around him just in case.
“It's not like paparazzi know us, Ry. Yes, fans could see us and freak out and write all over the Internet that we’re having sex, but we're not interesting for gossip magazines,” Brendon scoffed. Ryan pulls his sunglasses down an inch and stares at Brendon over them.
“Fine, whatever,” he sighs and wraps his arm around Brendon's waist, pulling him closer roughly. Brendon leans in with a smile and his arm goes around Ryan's thin waist as a reflex.
They walk like this for a while, commenting on some of the shops they go past. Ryan drags Brendon in a bookstore and manages to stay there for fifteen minutes before Brendon loses his cool and drags him out.
“I need new jeans,” Brendon comments as they walk past a clothes store. He pulls on Ryan's waist and lead them both in it, immediately heading for the women department. He lets go of Ryan and starts looking through the shelves for the right size and the right cut. Ryan folds his arms over his chest and looks around him as he waits for Brendon who can't decide which shade of blue he should get.
“Bren,” Ryan suddenly says, and Brendon looks up, startled.
“Yes? Ry, I don't know. Should I get the deep blue ones, or the washed ones? I mean, both shades are awesome, but I don't know. What do you think?”
“Bren,” Ryan snaps. “This is the store that you bought your first girls pants from.”
“When you forced me to buy my first girls pants. You sure?” He looks around him and frowns, probably racking through his brain for that memory.
“Yeah, it's possible. It's a small world,” he grins and shrugs, heading for the fitting room.
Ryan follows after him and sits in one of the couches designed for the exasperated boyfriends, and waits. Trying on new jeans is a long and complicated process for Brendon, a process that includes a lot of muttered curses, squirming and limbs hit against the walls of the small space.
“So, what do you think?” he asks as he gets out.
“They look exactly the same as all the others you own,” Ryan comments. “Only a tiny bit lighter. You know what I think of this cut on you, though,” Ryan smirks and crosses his legs meaningfully.
Brendon grins widely and goes back in the room after one last glance at his ass in the mirror.
“I think you need new pants. Yours look like you're wearing a bag. I don't want people in my band wearing horrible clothes. So you need new pants,” Ryan demanded, dragging Brendon into the nearest clothes store.
“I don't,” Brendon whined, letting Ryan lead him around the shop to the men department.
“They won't fit, by the way,” Brendon noted and pointed his chin at the pair Ryan was holding in front of him.
“Don't tell me your waist is wider than that,” Ryan deadpanned as he extended the waistband in front of Brendon.
“Oh no, the waist is never a problem. It's my hips that don't fit.” There was a hint of defiance in his tone, kind of 'I dare you to laugh'. Ryan eyed him because he was allowed for once and smirked.
“Right. So you what, take a size larger to fit your ass?”
“Yeah.” Brendon raised his shirt to show the belt pulled tightly around his waist.
An idea crossed Ryan's mind and he smirked. “Come with me,” he mysteriously whispered and heard Brendon's footstep following him as he crossed the store to the women department.
“Oh no. Fuck no, George Ryan Ross, I am not wearing girls pants. I'll allow you to put that stupid make up on my face before I wear girls pants,” Brendon snapped and when Ryan turned to look at him, he was standing in the middle of the aisle with his arms folded across his chest and a defiant look in his eyes.
“You have a big ass and broad hips. Girls too. It will fit you,” Ryan sighed and tried to drag Brendon towards the shelves.
“Yeah but they don't have dicks. I am not wearing girl’s pants. I may be gay, but I'm not that gay,” Brendon groaned and stayed put. Ryan stared at him and blinked a few times.
“You're gay?” He tried to keep his voice even when all he wanted was to start dancing because now there were a hundred of possibilities that had appeared for him and he really, really wanted to shout.
Brendon seemed to shrink, his shoulders sinking in and his head lowering. “Does it bother you?” he asked, his voice was small and scared.
“No!” Ryan said maybe too excitedly. “I just thought I was the only one in the band,” he added and smirked at Brendon when he looked up. Brendon smirked back, something unidentified glistening in his eyes.
“I kind of figured. I'll try one pair. One. If I look like an idiot, I am not buying them.”
“You won't regret it!” Ryan dragged him to the shelves and began pulling jeans off of it, putting them in front of Brendon to gauge his size. Once he settled on one, he asked Brendon which color he preferred. He pointed one with a sigh and followed Ryan to the fitting room, sighing as if he was walking to his death.
“Just try them on and stay open-minded,” Ryan said, pushing him in and stood by the door.
He heard Brendon swearing loudly, and then rambling about how he was never going to be able to have kids with how tight these pants were, and that he wondered how he was ever going to breathe while wearing them.
Brendon eventually came out, a hand over his eyes in a dramatic way. “I look stupid, I know it. Let me take them off,” he whimpered.
Ryan couldn't process any thoughts as he stared at Brendon.
“Bren, just look at yourself,” he managed to let out breathlessly.
Sighing, he uncovered his eyes and turned to face the mirror. His eyes visibly widened and he walked closer to it. He turned around and craned his neck to look in the mirror, and then the smirk on his face was enough to fog Ryan's mind.
“Okay, fine. I'm buying them. You were right, I'm smoking hot in those,” he said through his grin as he neared Ryan. He leaned in and pecked his cheek. “Thanks Ry.”
He disappeared in the room and Ryan inhaled sharply. He leaned his back on the wall and put his hands flat next to his body. He tried to calm his breathing but he felt like a school girl, overreacting for something as small as a peck on the cheek, but it was from Brendon and his lips and Ryan was really having trouble breathing.
Brendon got out of the fitting room and gave Ryan a strange look. Then he shrugged and smiled at Ryan.
“You should get more than one pair of these,” Ryan said in a voice slightly too high pitched for him.
“Yeah? Okay. Which shades?”
“Whichever you want.”
“I don't know. You know what I want though? Ice cream,” Brendon squealed and looked at Ryan with huge, pleading eyes.
“Yes, fine,” Ryan sighs playfully while picking up two pairs of jeans and dropping them in Brendon's hands.
They paid and began looking around the streets to find an ice cream parlor. Once they found it, it took Brendon five minutes to choose what flavor he wanted. Ryan automatically asked for pistachio but Brendon was stuck between his love of chocolate and the inviting colors of bubble gum.
They exited the shop, Brendon with a scoop of each on his sugar cone, and Ryan began talking about how they needed to find a bookstore so he could buy something to read but as he continued to walk, he noticed Brendon wasn't following him anymore. He went back the few steps between them and looked at the window Brendon was staring at. His ice cream was melting over his hand but he was fixated on whatever was behind that window.
Ryan saw the cello and a smile spread across his face.
“Don't you already own one?” Ryan asked playfully.
“Yes, but this one is so fucking beautiful...” Brendon trailed off and walked nearer to the window, squinting to look at the instrument more closely.
“What about we finish our cones and you go in there and ask if you can try it?” Ryan suggested and Brendon turned his gaze on him and Ryan felt for a second like the most beautiful thing in the world by the way Brendon was staring at him.
“You think they would let me?” He didn't even wait for the answer and started licking his cone quickly. Ryan almost had to look away.
“You have ice cream all over your hand by the way,” he commented stiffly.
“Oh, right, thanks,” Brendon mumbled before licking his hand and that time, Ryan really had to look away.
“Slow down Bren, you'll get a brain freeze. It won't run away,” Ryan said, chuckling lightly.
Brendon pouted but slowed down. They finished their cones still way too quickly for Ryan's liking and entered the shop. It was dark and quiet inside, it smelled of dust and polish. Brendon stayed near the entrance, his eyes flying to every instrument present in the shop.
“Go ask,” Ryan whispered and pushed his back slightly. Brendon shook his head and stared at Ryan with huge, nervous eyes.
“Fine,” Ryan sighed just for the act, he was ready to do anything for Brendon. He walked to the counter and rang the small bell. A man entered by a door hidden by a bead curtain and smiled at him.
“How may I help you?” he asked.
“My friend wants to know if he can try the cello in the display?” Ryan asked and the man glanced at Brendon.
“Yes, sure. You can sit on this chair. I'll get it for you,” the man said kindly and crossed the store. Brendon scrambled to the chair and sat on the edge of it, his fingers twitching where they were resting on his knees. The salesman handed him the instrument and Brendon beamed at him.
“Thank you,” he whispered and sat completely in the chair. He spread his legs – much to Ryan’s frustration – and positioned the cello between his thighs ceremoniously. He plucked the strings a few times and frowned before beginning to tune it.
Ryan met the gaze of the man and they exchanged a smile. A rich music filled the shop, Ryan turned his eyes on Brendon and stared in awe. His eyes were closed and his brows furrowed in concentration. He was chewing on his bottom lip and in another world Ryan was now used to.
Ryan didn't know how long Brendon played but when he stopped, it was to smile ecstatically at the shop owner. “Thanks sir,” he said fondly and got up clumsily, his eyes still not quite focused.
“I love chocolate ice cream,” Brendon moans as he licks his cone another time. “Can I taste yours?” he asks and makes a grabby hand at Ryan's cone.
Ryan only half hears him and barely notices when Brendon yanks his arm toward him to lick his cone. He's too lost staring at the window in front of him, hardly believing his eyes.
“B, look at this,” Ryan whispers and tucks Brendon by his shirt to drag him near the window. Brendon yelps before doing a double take at the window.
“No way,” he breathes out and looks at Ryan. They stare at each other before their faces split in similar grins.
“You know I'm buying it this time, right? It's the best I ever played on,” Brendon said excitedly.
“I know. I would have bought it for you if you hadn't, idiot,” Ryan deadpans and doubles his speed to eat his pistachio cone. Brendon does the same, a wide grin still on his face.
They enter the shop, glancing around to see that nothing has changed. The same man is standing next to a girl playing on a violin and he waves at them to wait a second. He says a few things to the girl and walks to meet them.
“How may I help you?” he asks and then his smile widens. “I remember you two! You tried that cello,” he points the one in the display, “you're the only one who could actually play who tried it!” he said animatedly.
“Yes, and now I'm coming to buy it,” Brendon says, trying to sound calm and adult. Ryan, though, could hear the excitement seeping through his voice. He eyes them both and Ryan imagines his thoughts, mainly involving that he probably can't afford it.
“I can afford it,” Brendon points out and smirks as the man clears his throat with unease.
The transaction takes forever. While Brendon discusses with the man about whatever needs to be said when buying a cello, he wanders around the store, looking at the guitars and violins. He meets the girl's eyes and she smiles knowingly at him, a small blush appearing on her cheeks. He waves and smiles back, tensing slightly.
Brendon is suddenly hanging on his neck, hugging him tightly and bouncing.
“You don't know how long I've dreamed of coming back here to buy it. I was so convinced it was gone by now. Thanks for taking me here,” he rambles in Ryan's ear.
“B... Careful. The girl over there, she knows us,” Ryan whispers and pushes Brendon away.
He pouts and shrugs it off because the man is coming towards them with the instrument in its case.
“It's all yours now,” the man smiles. Brendon squeals and takes the case with shaking hands.
“I'm so happy right now Ry,” he leans in and pecks Ryan's cheek. Ryan swallows uncomfortably and motions his head towards the girl. Brendon shrugs and as they exit the shop, he shouts 'keep it to yourself please' in her direction before smiling at Ryan.
“Like she will,” Ryan mumbles.
“It doesn't matter. How many times has it been said we were dating over the Internet? If she has no proofs they won't believe her. Stop freaking out,” Brendon whispers in his ear and plants a series of small kisses on his cheek.
Brendon elbowed Ryan repetitively until he groaned and turned on his side. “What?”
“I had a blast today. Thank you,” he said softly and smiled at Ryan. He squirmed to lie on his stomach and put his head on his folded arms.
“The sky's up there, by the way,” Ryan commented sarcastically and pointed upwards.
“I know but I have something prettier to look at,” he mumbled, his eyes piercing holes in Ryan's skin. He was mindlessly grazing his thumb over his bottom lip.
Ryan rolled on his side to look at him and Brendon smiled softly. The empty boxes of Chinese food they ate for dinner were discarded around them, the grass was prickling Ryan's cheek but it didn't matter because his eyes were locked with Brendon's and none of them had moved for something that felt like years. Brendon rolled on his side and faced Ryan, their knees brushing as he brought his legs up. He reached forward and took Ryan's hand in his, entwining their fingers. Ryan took his eyes off Brendon's to stare at their hands, his breathing somehow faster than seconds before.
When he looked up again, Brendon's face was inches away from his. He could feel his breath on his lips, quick and shallow like his. He leaned in and their lips brushed. Ryan closed his eyes and whimpered, moving in and kissing Brendon square on the mouth. Brendon let go of his hand to grab his face, fingers curling behind his head, keeping him close as he began kissing Ryan's mouth frantically. Ryan parted his lips and darted his tongue out to lick Brendon's lips. He heard him moaning, his tongue meeting his.
They kissed and kissed and kissed and suddenly Brendon was on top of Ryan, Ryan's hands roaming on his back under his shirt.
“I want you,” Brendon murmured into the kiss, panting and barely stopping long enough for him to finish his sentence, “I want this more than anything right now. Please.”
He lifted himself on his knees, his mouth still connected to Ryan's, and trailed his hand down his chest and lightly brushed it on the fly of Ryan's pants as if to emphasize his demand.
“I've been waiting for too long to wait any longer. Please, Ry, please, please, please.”
Ryan groaned and pushed Brendon off him, scrambling to his feet and then pulling him up. He dragged him to his car, pushing him against it to kiss him while trying to open the back door, one hand fisted in Brendon's shirt. The door clicked open and he pushed Brendon in before crawling on top of him. He smiled at him, his hair hanging like curtains each sides of his face, before diving in to kiss him again. Brendon's hands squeezed his ass and pulled it down to make their hips crash. They both moaned in the kiss and Ryan pulled away, panting. He blindly reached behind him and tried to shut the door but Brendon's feet were in the way.
“Can you just--” he tugged on Brendon's thighs until he understood and put his feet on the seat so Ryan could close the door.
“Wait--” Brendon groaned and sat up on the seat. He backed up to rest his back against the other door and pulled Ryan towards him by his shirt roughly. Ryan moved to straddle his thighs and resumed the kiss.
Ryan rolled his hips and Brendon gasped, his hands clawing at Ryan's shirt, bringing him even closer. Brendon's hands slid down his back and around his waist to reach the button of his jeans. He undid it and slowly unzipped his fly. Ryan threw his head back as the tip of Brendon's fingers brushed against his hardening cock. Ryan got up on his knees for Brendon to pull his pants and underwear down. As he did, Brendon groaned from the back of his throat. Ryan watched him eagerly as he undid his own pants, his shaking fingers struggling with his belt buckle. Ryan lift his hips up so Brendon could push his pants down and then he pushed his hips down.
They both moaned loudly at the friction of skin on skin and it was dizzying and overwhelming, and as they built a pace Ryan could only focus on kissing Brendon with all he had, his hips grinding down forcefully to meet Brendon's.
The rhythm didn't last long. As they were nearing their orgasms, their movements were getting more and more erratic until there was no rhythm anymore. Brendon came first with a loud shout of Ryan's name, and then Ryan followed, his entire body shaking from the tensed muscles. He rest his forehead on Brendon's shoulder and felt his fingers threading in his hair. He snuggled into him, burying his face in the crook of Brendon's sweat slick neck.
“I see Ursa Major,” Brendon chants happily.
They are lying on their back on a torn plaid blanket Ryan found in the trunk of his car – probably forgotten there after a picnic with Spencer and Jon last summer – staring at the starry sky over them.
“Where?” Ryan asks, curling into Brendon's side and hiding his face in his neck with a content sigh.
“The sky is up there, by the way,” Brendon jokes before wrapping his arms around Ryan, pulling him closer.
“I love you,” Ryan whispers in his neck and Brendon squeezes him tighter.
Ryan feels his fingers lifting his chin up and their lips meet in a lazy kiss. Brendon shifts and squirms around until he's leveled with Ryan so they can kiss better. His leg curls around Ryan's and he wraps his arm around his waist.
“I love you too,” Brendon murmurs in between kisses.
After one last kiss, he rests his forehead against Ryan's and pecks his nose. Ryan is absentmindedly stroking Brendon's bare hip while humming happily.
“Are we going to have sex on the backseat of your car?” Brendon whispers while chuckling. “That's what comes next, you know.”
"Mm,” Ryan mumbles, shifting closer to Brendon and feeling his arms pull him flat against his chest. “I should say no because you're too classy for the backseat of my car but really, it's only because last time I couldn't walk straight for days because my back hurt,” he pauses for a second, “and we're not doing it here. You know what I think about outdoor sex.”
Brendon sighs playfully and turns on his back, Ryan's head automatically going to rest on his chest.
“I'm glad I kissed you that night,” he whispers while tracing patterns on Brendon's chest.
“It would have happened one day or another. I wouldn't have been able to stay away from you for much longer. I was the epitome of pining.”
Ryan chuckles softly but as Brendon laughs too, the vibrations in his chest make Ryan laugh even more.
“We should go back to Vegas,” Brendon whispers, stroking Ryan's hair.
“We should. You drive,” Ryan mumbles and stretches. He gets on his feet and helps Brendon up. Brendon folds the blanket while Ryan looks for a garbage can to throw the boxes of food in. He gets in the passenger seat and curls up on himself. Brendon gets behind the wheel and leans in to kiss the top of Ryan's head before turning the engine on.
The cello is safely laid on the backseat. As they exit Los Angeles it begins to rain and Ryan smiles. He loves being in a car at night under the rain. He likes the feeling of safety, the cocoon the car creates around them and the sound of the rain on the roof and windows. Ryan tries to fight sleep as long as he can, but he can feel his eyelids closing. All he can see is Brendon's profile, a small smile on his face because he knows Ryan's looking at him. Somehow, Bryan Adams is once again playing, at a low volume because Brendon knows Ryan can't sleep with loud music. He feels Brendon's hand slipping in his and hears him softly singing along. That's all it takes for him to surrender to sleep, mumbling 'I love you' and hearing it back before completely passing out, a smile on his face.
