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Title: Did We Get Hitched Last Night?
Author: [livejournal.com profile] fleurdelisee
Word Count: ~3,000
Rating: R
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: 3rd, Ryan centric
Summary: The guy who will write 'One Night Stands For Dummies' will deserve a Nobel prize.
Disclaimer: Never happened as far as I know. If you stumbled upon this by Googling your name (seriously, don't you know it was a bad idea?), please, for the love of everything that's good, go away.
Author Notes: Un-beta'd, sorry for the scare. This was my submission for [livejournal.com profile] anon_lovefest, with the prompt to write a story around Katy Perry's Waking Up In Vegas.

Ouch, shit. Lights. It hurts. His head will explode in one point five second, seriously. Ryan swings his arm over his eyes to block out the murderous brightness showing through his closed eyelids. His head his throbbing and the sound of his blood pumping in his ears only makes it stronger.

As the sleep slowly wears off, a first question springs to his mind. When the hell did he go to bed? Because he is, right? He's not sleeping on the floor of the casino, please let him not be sleeping on the floor of the casino and be in his hotel room bed. He could check and stop the anxiety attack that's forming in his chest, tightening his stomach and making his breathing shallow and, oh great, empowers his headache. But checking implies opening his eyes and he seriously thinks his brain will crumple if he sees light.

Wow, too much thinking, now his head spins.

Finally surrendering, he cracks open one eye and turns his head left. As soon as what he sees is not a slot machine, he closes it again and breathes in deeply. Hotel room, perfect. So that brings him back to the first question, when did he go to bed? Or, you know, went to bed naked. He never sleeps naked, it's some sort of insane something - he cannot remember the word and searching it seems really hard – that makes him unable to sleep naked, even when he's alone. So, why the naked and how did he end up in his bed?

All of his dead-end filled thoughts are put to a brutal halt when he hears the sound of someone moving in the bed next to him.


Oh fuck, oh fuck, this is so, so not happening. There cannot be anyone in the bed next to him, he knows no one in Las Vegas (well there's Spencer but he is certainly not lying in bed with him naked because it's Spencer for fuck's sake). Even though everything in him tells him not to open his eyes, that it's going to hurt and that he'll regret it, he forces his eyelids open and turns his head to look to his right.

A boy is lying next to him. A gorgeous one, might he add. Gorgeous and naked. And awake.

“G'morning,” the boy whispers, his voice thick with sleep and obvious hangover.

“Hi,” Ryan replies, nerves settling in.

“Do I know you?”

The guy who will write 'One Night Stands For Dummies' will deserve a Nobel prize. What is he supposed to answer? Stay smooth, Ross. Don't show him you don't remember a single thing from last night. If only he could stop his eyes from widening like a deer in headlights.

“Hey, hey, don't freak out, I'm just kidding. Ryan, relax,” he says with a smile and reaches up to stroke his face. “You look even better in the daylight.”

He knows his name. He seems to know him yet Ryan has no memories of him. He could have walked in three minutes ago and he would never know. He should tell him, maybe. Is it insulting? Yeah, probably.

Next to him, the boy starts talking in a quiet voice, saying things Ryan's brain's not ready to process yet. But this voice, he recognizes it. He remembers hearing it last night.

Ryan walks out of the crowded casino, his head spinning from the overwhelming heat and the deafening mix of music and voices. He breathes in deeply the Vegas night air. It might be a July night in the desert but it's still colder than inside and it soothes his headache.

He slowly walks to sit on the bench located a few feet away from the entrance, only noticing the boy when he sits down.

“Too crowded for you too, huh?” Ryan says which causes the guy to laugh.

“No, not really. Well, I don't know. I lost my fake ID. I can't get in,” the guy answers with a shrug.

His voice, oh god.

“Why are you still here then?” Ryan asks as he leans against the back of the bench, crossing his legs.

“My awesome friends decided to go in anyway but we didn't use my car to come so I'm stuck here until they decide to go home. I don't mind, I mean, I love watching people go by and, okay this is weird but—I love inventing them life stories. It kills time,” he shrugs again but this time turns his head to flash a smile at Ryan.

“It's not weird, I love doing that too.“Ryan smiles back before sticking his hand out. “Ryan.”

“Brendon,” the boy replies, shaking his hand vigorously.

“Want a drink? I'll get you in,” Ryan offers before getting up.

“They won't let me, they always ask for IDs. Thanks for the offer though. I'd say I'll hold you up for it but Vegas' a big ass city and the odds we meet again are infinitely small.”

“Stop talking and come with me, I said I'd get you in,” Ryan sighs, holding out his hand.

Brendon takes it and Ryan hauls him up before wrapping his arm around his shoulders and bringing him closer.

“We're boyfriends, and when we'll be about to get in I will kiss you, okay? And while I do that I will show them my ID. If we're lucky the doorman will be awkward enough by then that he won't even check it. Is it okay?” Ryan pauses to study his face a few seconds. So gorgeous, what a catch. “Is it okay with you? I mean, if you're straight I'm pretty sure you won't want to act as my boyfriend, but--”

“It's okay.”

“Yeah?” Ryan smirks.

Brendon smirks back and nods. Ryan walks them to the end of the queue, keeping his arm around Brendon's shoulder and trying to act smooth even though the boy's arm is holding strongly onto his waist. He's not a girl, oh my god.

When there are only two people in front of them, Ryan leans closer to Brendon and ghosts his lips over his cheek.

“Still okay?” he whispers, earning him a strong nod. “Start kissing my neck. You'll be too busy to show your card.”

Ryan totally doesn't shiver when the boy's lips press on the sensitive skin of his neck, not at all. Nor does he lean in when Brendon wraps his other arm around his waist and presses himself against Ryan.

As he had planned, the doorman barely checks Ryan's ID before letting them in.

“Thanks so much man,” Brendon says once they're in. He's still holding Ryan's waist, thank you very much.

“Don't mention it. We're lucky it's a crappy one. It wouldn't have worked at the Palms Hotel or the Caesar Palace, you know?” Ryan's arm is also still around Brendon's shoulders and he feels courageous. “Plus, I fucking wanted that drink with you. You're hot.”

Okay, how many drinks did he have before meeting Brendon? Yeah, too much.

“Um, thanks? You are too. So, can I get this drink now?”

Ryan rubs his hands over his face a few times before rolling on his side to face Brendon.

“My head fucking hurts,” he moans.

“Yeah, mine too. You said one drink, not six,” Brendon laughs hollowly. “Do you remember my name?”

“Yes, Brendon, I remember your name,” Ryan says sharply. “I don't remember anything else, but I remember your name.”

“Oh,” Brendon says faintly. “You remember nothing? Really? I was counting on you to explain this.”

Ryan groans because he has to open his eyes to see what Brendon is talking about and this is the last thing he wants right now. He does and regrets it immediately.

“What the hell is this?” he snaps, suddenly really awake.

“I don't know, I don't know!” Brendon says nervously.

From as far as he can remember, he never wore a class ring. He never had a class ring to begin with.

“Is that yours?” he asks Brendon. There's nothing to freak out about, he only wears Brendon's ring, it's not like they're married.

“Yeah... is that yours?” Brendon holds up his left hand, the ring Ryan always wears on his finger.

Fuck, they're married.

No, this is so not happening. This is not even legal, of course it didn't happen!

“This isn't legal,” Ryan chokes out.

“I know dude, I don't understand. If we did get—we must have a certificate somewhere.”

With that, Brendon gets out of bed and starts looking around the room, naked. Stop staring, Ryan. He is so gorgeous, though. Guys should not have asses like this one has, seriously, this cannot be true. And he banged it. Well, hopefully. God, he banged that guy and doesn't even remember doing it.


The boy turns around – oh wow and he's married to this? - to face Ryan. He puts his hand on his hip, cocking it to the side.


“Did we have sex?” He feels so stupid.

Brendon's eyes widen and seconds later he is straddling Ryan's waist, his arms holding him up each sides of Ryan's head.

“Dude, dude, you were the best fuck I had in my whole life. Out of two but the point stands. You are a real animal in bed.”

“An animal?! Fuck. I was really fucking drunk. I'm more of a 'candles and roses' kind of guy. I don't--”

Brendon leans down and pecks Ryan's lips before pulling away quickly. “Am I allowed to do this or like, I don't know, it was my first one night stand and I just. We're married.”

“Did that make sense in your head?” Ryan chuckles, purposely skipping over the married part.

“I don't know. I really want to kiss you, though.”

“Then do,” Ryan deadpans, his eyes catching for the first time on the boy's lips and now he really want to kiss him too.

Brendon bends down again, his lips softly pressing against Ryan's, hesitant and shy being Ryan's best guesses as to why he isn't kissing him for real. He wraps his hand around Brendon's neck to bring him down closer.

Ryan kisses heatedly every inches of Brendon he can reach, never having enough of this perfect boy so pliant between his hands. He lets Ryan guide him around, anticipating what Ryan wants and giving him ten times more. Brendon is rocking his hips against Ryan's, a small moan escaping his swollen lips with every thrusts.

Ryan regrets shutting the lights, he wishes he could see the expression on Brendon's face as he buries himself deep inside of him. The only glances he gets are given to him from the colorful lights of Vegas outside the window, the wide open curtains letting them flow in.

“Don't forget it in the morning, please,” Ryan lets out, trying to make it sound like anything but begging.

“I won't. You're my second fuck, I could never forget it,” he says, barely audible.

Brendon smiles brightly for a brief moment, his face changing and getting
sohotholyfuck as Ryan roughly thrusts in.

Ryan pulls out of the kiss and laughs as Brendon whines.

“Some memories are coming back,” Ryan says, laughing as he tries to avoid Brendon's lips. “Stop it man, I'm trying to talk. I remember a bit of the sex.”

“It was good, huh?” Brendon asks, his mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses on Ryan's neck. “It would be better if you could remember the wedding, though. This part really bugs me.”

“Mm,” Ryan hums, putting a hand to his painful head. “I'll take a shower, I have the feeling that I must reek.”

“Yeah, now that you mention it,” Brendon begins with a smirk, earning him a smack from Ryan.

Brendon gets off of him and sprawls on the bed, very naked and very exposed, obviously not caring at all that he doesn't know Ryan, except that they are married. The word is capitalized and bold in Ryan's head, with blood dripping from the letters.

Ryan looks around the room for his suitcase, his stomach tying into tighter knots with each passing second.

“Where's my suitcase?” He turns to face Brendon and it's there, it hits him. “This is not my fucking hotel room!”

“No... You lost your keys last night. I had to pay for this one. You were legit freaking out. You don't remember? Don't worry, go take a shower and then we'll go to your hotel to get your suitcase, okay? I'll look for the wedding certificate.”

Ryan does as Brendon tells him, letting an involuntary moan out as the warm water hits him, helping him clear his thoughts.

”I fucking love you man,” Ryan says, hearing Brendon laugh next to him. “And I'm not drunk, okay? This is a thought through idea, alright?”

“Yes, of course! I mean, we're not drunk, we know what we're doing. I fucking love you too. We're made for each other, you are so perfect. I could never want anyone else to spend the rest of my days with me.” Brendon slurs back, leaning against Ryan and laughing some more as he almost trips. “Ryan! This one has Elvis! Let's go there!”

Brendon tugs Ryan into the chapel, both boys having matching smug smiles.

“Is there anybody in there? We want to get married!” Ryan shouts, causing Brendon to break into a fit of giggles.

Ryan rushes out of the shower, loosely wrapping a towel around his waist. He enters the room and finds Brendon staring at a piece of paper with a frown.

“Elvis,” he says when he looks up at Ryan.”Elvis married us.”

“I know. I remember a bit of it.”

Another memory flashes to his mind, Brendon and him giggling as they sign all the paperwork to make the wedding official. He shakes his head to kick the images out of his mind and bring his attention back to Brendon.

“Lucky you. Well, at least I'm married to a good looking guy. Maybe Jon and Bill won't laugh too much. Spencer, though, he won't let me forget this,” Brendon sighs, putting the sheet of paper on the bed.

“Spencer... Spencer Smith? You know Spence?” Ryan stares at him in complete disbelief. Finding out he's married to Brendon was probably easier to believe than Brendon knowing his childhood best friend.

“Hold, on, wait. Jon Walker? Spencer's epic crush?” Ryan adds, remembering the names Brendon had said.

“Boyfriend now, you should have seen them in the car last night. So you probably know William Beckett?” Brendon asks, his eyes sparkling and a large smile on his face.

Ryan shudders against his will, knowing Bill way too well. Brendon's eyes suddenly narrow as he stares at Ryan. His brows are furrowed in a frown and he's shaking his head.

“You are Ryan Ross? Spencer's best friend? The weird-ass writer who locks himself in his house for weeks without calling anyone? The guy they want me to meet because 'oh my god, Bren, you would be perfect for him'? Fucking Jon, always trying to match everyone around him. You should see him with Bill and Ga--”

“Brendon Urie!” Ryan stares at the small (naked, oh god) boy in front of him, having to work really hard to keep his mouth closed. “Spencer's been trying to get me to meet you for months!”

Somewhere in the room, a phone goes off, saving Ryan from blurting out 'the multi-talented guy who plays every instrument under the sun and is incredibly attracting' or something equally stalkerish.

“It's mine!” Brendon starts looking around the room, finally locating his phone and digging it out of his jeans.

“The Pussycat Dolls?” Ryan laughs, hearing 'Don't Cha' more clearly now.

“Shut up,” Brendon snaps, a light blush on his cheeks. “Hey Spence! You won't believe the night I had!” he answers.

Ryan walks closer to Brendon, pressing his chest against his back and wrapping his arms around his waist. He leans closer to the mouthpiece.

“Hello Spence,” he says, smiling as Brendon turns his head to kiss his jaw.

“Yeah, that's Ryan. Yes, your Ryan. He found me when you abandoned me outside of the casino and he offered me a drink. Then something happened and I woke up next to him this morning. Naked,” he pauses and laughs. “Yeah, it was awesome. But that's not the weirdest part. We got married!”

Ryan lets go of Brendon and starts putting his clothes on, blushing when he sees Brendon watching him with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow.

“I'm not Britney dude, I won't let go of this fucking hot guy who's stuck with me by the law.” He grins at Ryan and then rolls his eyes. “Have you ever thought that maybe he only acts like a jerk with you? He's been nothing but sweet with me.”

Ryan sits down on the bed next to him. “Only with you Spence,” Ryan says loudly enough for Spencer to hear. He reaches for the phone and takes it out of Brendon's hand.

“Can I borrow you money? I kind of need some to pay my hotel room.”

”You left without your credit card again or what?”

“No... I kind of played and lost. My publisher will send me a check next week but right now I'm fucking broke.”

”Ask your husband.”
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