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31 December 2008 @ 04:00 pm
Bandom RPS Fic: A Wave You Glide In On (2/2)  

part ♥

Neither Pete nor Jon wanted to go to the Lockjaw that Saturday night.

"I have homework," was Jon's uncharacteristic response.

"I need to write more poetry exalting Patrick's delightful Roman nose," said Pete, which was more characteristic but no less annoying.

"Fine," said Brendon. "I'll just go by myself, then."

"But not leave by yourself, is the implication?" Jon rubbed his stubble, not catching Brendon's eye. He'd been very cool towards Brendon lately, as if it were Brendon's fault that Ryan was a pain in the ass masquerading as a person.

"At least I'm not mutating into a giant nerd," he retorted. He stepped on Jon's foot as he stomped past, and didn't apologise.

Brendon could just tell it was one of those nights that was going to go badly. He'd planned on wearing his pink chucks, because Pete had scrawled all over them and girls loved deciphering his cryptic messages (which were usually along the lines of 'cheese is yum'). When he went to put them on, he couldn't find the left one anywhere. He'd had to resort to an old pair of orange Vans, which completely clashed with his outfit. Zack wasn't on duty that night and no amount of wheedling would induce Dirty to let him skip the line.

His mood lifted slightly when he spotted the blonde girl by the bar, looking slightly left out of a group Brendon recognised from school. He didn't recognise her, which boded well for his chances. So did the smile she gave him when he approached, still a bit concerned that she'd be put off by the distressing orangeness of his footwear.

He detached her from her friends by slinging an arm around her shoulder and turning her away, so she missed the dirty glances Ruby sent him. He'd made out with Ruby a year ago, and her best friend eleven months and three weeks ago, which didn't put him high in Ruby's favour. Still, she didn't throw drinks at him anymore, so Brendon counted it as a win.

"I'm Brendon, and I'm a part-time white knight," he said. "What's your name and your drink?"

"I'm Chastity," said the blonde girl, a smirk in her eyes. Brendon mentally fist pumped. Girls with names like Chastity were always easy. "Can you get me a Bloody Mary?"

"I can try," said Brendon honestly. He let his hand slip down her back a little, which was just when Ryan walked in.

For a second it was like Brendon's brain screeched to a halt. Ryan looked horribly uncomfortable, which might have been due to his skin-tight sharkskin pants. The icy light made his collarbones flare, and all Brendon could see was the dark shadow dusting the V of his white tshirt.

"You're not trying very hard," said Chastity. She was wearing glittery lipgloss. Brendon smiled widely at her and turned to the barman. The barman crossed his arms.

"No ID, no alcohol."

"I have an ID," said Brendon. "I just left it at home. Does that count?"

"Let me think," said the barman. "No."

"Fine." Brendon sighed. "A Sprite and -?"

"How about something a bit more ... juicy?" Chastity blew on his ear.

"What, like pineapple juice?"

Chastity flicked her eyes in a way that made the sparkles on her false eyelashes dance. "Yeah, except not really. C'mon." She took his hand and let him to the side door - the unofficial makeout zone.

"Oh, right." It clicked with Brendon just as she tugged him out the door. For some reason he felt like looking over his shoulder, in case -

"Me first," said Chastity, pushing him to his knees.

"Why not me first?" Brendon pouted, sliding his hands under her skirt.

"That's reserved for guys who can actually get me drinks," said Chastity. "At least your hands are warm ... oh."

Brendon hooked his fingers into the delicate lace of her panties and pulled them down, squeezing one thigh to get her to lift it over his shoulder. It was easier when girls opened up a little. It was easier when they were lying down, actually, or when they let him go first and he could pretend to fall to sleep afterwards. But Brendon was smart enough to take what he could get.

He lifted her skirt between two fingers and ducked his head under it, puffing out a breath of air in a way that made her giggle and sigh at the same time. He didn't plan on hanging around, so he slid two fingers into her - and they went in easy, so he couldn't be entirely failing at pick-up lines - and flicked his thumb over her clit. Her thigh shook against his cheek, and he finally started to get hard. Stretching his fingers against the hot tightness, he went for broke and licked her, around his fingers and up, making his tongue as stiff as possible, the way Audrey had taught him.

Chastity moaned, her fingers twined in his hair. She shoved him closer, which was why Brendon never did it when girls went down on him - it was fucking annoying. Tiny hairs caught on his tongue, making him want to cough. He tongued her harder, hoping it would speed things up. It seemed to work, because she started bucking into his face, and everything got a whole lot slippier.

"O-oh, fuck," said Chastity, "you're good at that."

Brendon surreptitiously wiped his mouth. "It's a skill." He was just about to add, 'My turn,' when Chastity giggled.

"You can come out now," she said.

Brendon spun around on his knees. And of course it was Ryan, staring at him like he was covered in demon ichor instead of girl come. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Chastity's panties still coiled around one ankle. They were pink.

"I wasn't watching," muttered Ryan. "I just needed to talk to Brendon."

"Sure." Chastity smirked. "He's all yours, babe." She kicked her panties into her hand and shoved them in her purse. "Get back to me when you're old enough to buy liquor," she told Brendon.

"What?" groaned Brendon, as Chastity slinked from view. He sprawled back on the gravel, which wasn't any kinder to his vertebrae than it had been to his knees. "So close. So close."

"I'm sorry," said Ryan.

"You should be," said Brendon, "considering that from past evidence, it's not like you're gonna suck my dick."

"That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

Brendon perked up. He lifted his head, but that just gave him a prime view of Ryan's lean hips in those low-slung pants. For some reason, his breath felt tight. "You're finally giving into your very understandable need to get me off?"

"No!" Ryan huffed. It blew the hair out of his eyes, settling it in a downy sweep across his forehead. "Can you, like. Stand up or something?"

Brendon shook his head. "I have to wait for my hard-on to go away. You get that, right? Unless you want me to start dealing with it myself, right now -"

"Fine, shut up." The way Ryan said it was high and hasty. Brendon remembered Ryan licking his palm so it was all wet when he wrapped it around Brendon's cock, which was a memory Brendon had been very successfully repressing. Until now.

Ryan scrabbled around in the gravel until he got comfortable. Brendon just lay beside him, trying to ignore the fact that, if anything, his erection was getting worse. There was a silence between them that wasn't broken by the music pouring from the smoky windows of the club, or the sounds of cars purring through the streets.

"Spencer told me what you overheard," said Ryan, "eventually. I had to threaten to publish a love note about Jon in the Letters section first."

"So you have a big creepy crush on me, whatever." Brendon waved his hand. "I can deal."

"You really are a dick," said Ryan, wonderingly. "I have no idea why I like you."

"Probably 'cause I'm hot," said Brendon. "I mean, it's not like you ever talked to me; that has to be the reason."

"I'm not actually that shallow. Unlike some people I could mention."

"Oh, you mean Chastity? What's shallow about getting what you want? Besides -" Brendon raised himself on one elbow "- I didn't hear you complaining when you were in her position."

Ryan flushed deeply. Streaks of hair fell across his cheeks as he dipped his head; Brendon kind of wanted to brush them neatly behind his ears, then pull him down on top of - no! "That was different," Ryan muttered.

"It sure was," said Brendon. "That time, I got off too."

"Fucking hell - is that all you think about?"

Brendon considered this. "I also think about smoothies," he said. And my guitar, and the music in my head, and the way you look when you scowl with the light all behind you. "Where's your faithful shadow?"

Ryan snorted. "He had last minute issues with the game he covered last week. He needed Jon's urgent help."

"Oh, yeah," said Brendon. "Did we win?"

"We lost by fifteen points," said Ryan, "but sure, it's the kind of thing you'd easily miss."

"Whatever." Brendon rolled back, staring at the sky. He thought about mentioning that Danni White had let him feel her up at the after-game party, but Ryan never seemed to appreciate these nuggets of information.

"Are you really..."

The break in Ryan's question was so long that Brendon looked over, watching the long line of Ryan's throat move as he swallowed. "Really what?"

Ryan picked up a handful of gravel and let it trickle through his fingers. "What do you want from life?"

"Blowjobs and to be left alone," said Brendon. "I don't think I'm asking too much."

"Those are kind of mutually exclusive," said Ryan.

"No," said Brendon, "they're sequential."

"Oh." One, two, three plinks as Ryan released the last of the gravel and stood up, brushing his hands on his pants. "I guess I'll see you around."

"Not if I see you first," said Brendon, making finger guns and meaning it. He didn't like the way being around Ryan made him feel.

"Just for the record -" Ryan paused at the door but didn't turn around. "It's not because you're hot. Or, well, it's not the only reason. You're more than you think you are."

The door shut gently and continued to bang periodically as the wind toyed with it. Brendon ran his hand over the gravel Ryan had dropped. It felt cold.


"Going on the internet, Mom!"

"Half an hour, tops!" his mom called back, as she always did. It was a waste of breath: Brendon didn't have the attention span to spend even fifteen minutes on the net, let alone double that.

The homepage was Google. He typed in 'new yorker' and got waylaid by ads for two-for-one deals on Amazon. By the time he went back to the search results, he'd wasted five minutes wondering if he'd like to buy a Disney box set, and concluding that one VHS and one DVD copy of all his favourites was enough. The New Yorker homepage baffled him, but he managed to find a search engine and carefully typed in 'george ryan ross.' He even remembered to disconnect the dialup when he'd found what he wanted.

as a whore's blushes
are my words
tipping off the edge of the
world, endlessly falling
forever unwinding
into nothing

"God, what a pretentious ass," muttered Brendon. He drummed his feet on the printer to get it to go faster. The technique had never worked in the past, but Brendon was nothing if not hopeful. "And my eyes are brown."

He crumpled the papers into his back pocket and headed for the stairs. He passed the door of the den, where his mom was seated cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by swatches of dress material.

"Dad working late again?" asked Brendon. His mom looked up, pushing her hair distractedly out of her face.

"Yes, sweetheart," she said, "but you can go ahead and have dessert if you want."

"No, I'm good." Brendon lingered in the door, feeling the paper crackle as he shifted his weight. "Are they for Bethany's wedding?"

"The bridesmaids' dresses." She fingered a piece of olive green silk; Brendon thought of his sisters' warm brown skin against it. "Bethany insisted I have to decide. Which means I'm deciding the whole decor of the wedding - the place settings, the chair backs, the missalettes - Lord. It's enough to make me curse."

"The green is nice," said Brendon, and stepped away before his mom could say anything else.


Mr Zuckerman had called Brendon a musical idiot savant. Well, mostly he'd called Brendon an idiot, but the other line had slipped out once. Brendon made like he hadn't heard, but he looked it up later and was pretty impressed with himself for a while. Mr Zuckerman had also been the one to convince Brendon's parents to let him get a guitar, after years and years of piano and cello lessons that bored him to death.

He'd had tears in his eyes the day Brendon told him he was quitting. Brendon hadn't even known he was going to do it when he walked into the room. Mr Zuckerman said, "Okay, C scale thirds apart, we'll go over the Schubert before some fun guitar stuff. Okay?" Brendon put his fingers to the keys, played five perfect notes and brought his hands down in a crash of discords. Mr Zuckerman thought he was sick, at first; and certainly the heady rush of power - I can do this and you can't stop me - was a little nauseating. But Brendon got used to it fast.

The sign-up sheet for the variety show was on the main notice board next to the secretary's office. Brendon put his name down at nine o'clock and changed it at nine-fifteen, but when he went back at eleven it had been taken down, because the sign-ups were closed. Patrick caught up with Brendon when he was loitering around the water fountain, delaying his entrance to his algebra class for as long as possible. He wasn't only thinking of himself in this, because Mrs Hall hated him with a tight-lipped passion.

"You're Brendon, yeah?" asked Patrick, in an uncertain way that meant he knew all right, but was checking that it was okay to talk to him. Brendon wiped his mouth on his hand and nodded. He waited for Patrick to speak again, which required some shuffling of feet and nervous twitching on Patrick's part. "I saw you put your name down for the variety show?"

Brendon raised his eyebrows, but nothing more was forthcoming. "I'm sorry. Are you asking me whether you saw my name or not?"

"No, I mean..." Patrick tugged on the brim of his stupendously ugly trucker hat. "I didn't know you played an instrument."

"You could probably fill oceans with what you don't know," said Brendon. "Is that all? 'Cause I'm bored of this conversation."

"Rehearsals are today at five," said Patrick. Brendon was pretty sure he heard Patrick mouth 'dick' as Brendon sauntered off.


Brendon didn't have his accordion with him at school, but there was plenty of time to go home and get it before five if he cut last period. He tried to wheedle Pete into coming with him, and had nearly succeeded (Mrs Hall hated Pete too) when they bumped into Jon. Pete, of course, had no qualms about telling Jon their plan and inviting him along.

"But don't you have the show rehearsal this evening?" said Jon. "I mean, dude. I've heard you play the tambourine, and it could use some work."

Pete smacked his forehead. "I totally forgot about that! Sorry, Bumblebee. I'll have to pass."

"There'll be time to get back here if you drive," said Brendon, plastering on his most disgustingly cute smile.

Jon narrowed his eyes. "What's so urgent that you can't put it off till tomorrow?"

Brendon, grumpily, said nothing. He crossed his arms and stared at the wall, but he could feel a blush creeping up his neck.

"Brendon - if this is some cunning new plan of yours, you should just forget it right now."

"It's not a cunning plan," mumbled Brendon. "I just have to get something from home. And for your information, onion smoothies are delicious."

"They're food poisoning in a cup," said Jon. "Something like what? Fireworks?"

"No, my instrument for the variety show rehearsal."

Pete's face lit up. "But they have a keyboard here! Or are you playing guitar?"

"Nope. I'm playing the accordion."

"The accordion?" Pete's eyebrows wriggled together like crazed caterpillars. "Wow, like ... I don't even know what that is. Do you?" he asked Jon, who nodded slowly.

"So will you drive me there?" asked Brendon. "Patrick would probably be way disappointed if I couldn't practice for him."

"Sure, sure! We can get doughnuts for everyone, too." Pete laughed, delighted with himself.

Jon's fingers pinched Brendon's elbow as they started walking to the lunch hall. "What are you doing?" he said quietly.

"Walking, dude." Brendon pried Jon's hand off. "What are you doing?"

Jon just shook his head. He didn't ask again.


Pete entered the theatre ahead of Brendon, carrying the doughnut boxes aloft, and was immediately swallowed up by Patrick and a swarm of behatted cronies. People were in knots all over the place, sprawled in the seats and laughing. Brendon caught sight of Jon, leaning over a table beside Spencer and earnestly discussing a spray of photographs carpeting the tabletop. Ryan was with them, and Brendon's heart lurched.

Ryan smiled at something Jon said, which didn't help the floaty, disconnected feeling in Brendon's head. Ryan was gorgeous when he smiled, even when he was wearing what looked like a mesh corset over a pink shirt, with a matching peaked cap that Robin Hood would have discarded for being too gay.

Brendon curled up in a quiet seat at the very top of the auditorium, and amused himself by pulling threads out of the fraying chair backs while Patrick fooled around for half an hour trying to bring order. The crowd was boisterous - and it was a crowd, which surprised Brendon; he supposed this was what the rest of the school did when he was getting drunk after football games. Everyone was more interested in eating Pete's doughnuts, one of which he was wearing as a crown, than paying attention. Eventually Patrick got them to settle down and called the performers up one by one. They were all flushed and giggly, but the standard was high. Not that Brendon was worried - as the only accordion-player, there was no one to compare him to.

He ended up watching the back of Ryan's head for most of the time, the little curls peeking from under his cap as he inclined his head towards Spencer every now and then. Mostly he was silent and focused on the stage. Once he lifted his hand to scratch his neck, just as Patrick's lighting director flooded the room with purple spots. Ryan grinned at Spencer and held out his hand to catch the colour. Brendon was maybe a little transfixed.

From his vantage point Brendon could also see what happened to Ryan when Brendon's name was called. His shoulders rose and went stiff, and he sunk into his seat. Spencer said something, and so did Jon, leaning across Spencer in a familiar way Brendon would have liked to investigate more closely. But Patrick said his name again, sounding annoyed, so he stood up, slung the accordion over his shoulder, and walked down to the stage. He gave the room plenty of time to grow silent and uncertain, that was for sure.

Brendon sat in a chair vacated by a fiddle-player, still warm with body heat. He looked at his hands as he unpacked the accordion, soft little whispers rising all around him.

"What are you playing?" It was Patrick, standing beside him with a clipboard and a hostile look.

"It's an original piece," said Brendon. "I composed it myself."

"Right." Patrick packed a world of doubt into that one word, but he marked it on the sheet anyway. "Well then, whenever you're ready."

Brendon drew out the bellows in a long slow whine, and began to play. Then he sang, staring into the shadows of the ceiling as his throat swelled like he hadn't refused to be in the church choir for over three years. Habit made him avoid looking at the audience, but he couldn't help glancing over when he heard a door bang. There was a flash of pink before the latch pulled to, and as Brendon sang the last word his eyes drifted over to Spencer and Jon and Ryan's empty seat.

He closed the accordion with a snap and put it down on the stage. Patrick looked at him with round wide eyes, his brows somewhere up under his hideous hat. "That was ... wow."

"Whatever." Brendon pushed past him and jumped off the stage. Jon and Spencer were sending him identical thoughtful looks.

"Don't you want your accordion?" called Patrick.

"I'll be back for it," said Brendon. Pete cheered and tossed him a doughnut as he passed, quicker now. He was pretty sure he knew where Ryan had gone, but Ryan probably knew that too.

The old wing of the school was, if anything, more deserted than the first time Brendon had seen it. He jogged lightly down the corridor, the jelly doughnut sticky in his hand. A weird rush of relief overtook him when he saw Ryan hunched over on a desk, hands buried in his messy curls. That relief was the one thing that made him sure of what he was doing.

"Hey," he said, closing the door behind him. Ryan started, dropping his hands to the desk with a thud. He looked like he'd been scrubbing at his face: his cheeks and eyes were pink and sore-looking.

"What are you doing here?" asked Ryan, in a voice so neutral it barely registered as a question.

Brendon stuck his free hand in his back pocket and rocked on his heels. "I, um. Brought you a doughnut?"

Ryan looked from Brendon to the doughnut and back again. The intensity of his gaze made Brendon's insides start a hot, fizzy dance. Then, with the utmost deliberation, Ryan turned his back on Brendon.

"Hey." Brendon hopped up on the desk beside Ryan and put a hand on his shoulder; Ryan turned to stone beneath him. "Don't be like that."

"If you don't leave right now," said Ryan softly, "I'll sue your ass for infringement of copyright. And stop touching me."

"But, Ryan -"

"Shut up!" shouted Ryan. "Don't say my name, don't talk to me. I hate you! With your stupid music and your stupid smile and - shit, ow!" He jumped up from the desk, clutching his hand. Brendon could see a thin line of blood bubble from where Ryan had slammed his palm down right on top of a thumbtack. "Fucking hell."

"Let me -"

"I said don't touch me!" Ryan recoiled, wincing. His eyes were wet.

Brendon did the only thing he could think of, with Ryan bleeding and sad beside him. He leaned in and kissed him.

It was a light, soft kiss, or would have been if Ryan hadn't jerked his head in surprise and caught Brendon's lip between his teeth in the process. Brendon hissed but didn't move, curling his hand behind Ryan's neck and stroking his thumb through those curls.

Ryan tried to speak, but Brendon just took the chance to slip his tongue into Ryan's mouth. Ryan shivered then and went still, and when he tilted his head and opened his mouth wider, Brendon knew he'd won. Which was why he pulled away.

"You're bleeding, asshole," he pointed out, when Ryan made a little noise of protest. He pushed Ryan back into the chair and knelt before him. He took Ryan's hand in both of his and carefully licked the blood away. It tasted awful, too bright and sour.

"You fucking weirdo," said Ryan, but he was breathless.

"Shh," was all Brendon said, before he closed his teeth around the head of the tack. Fortunately it wasn't very deep, so he was able to draw it out easily. Ryan grunted in pain. Brendon spat the tack on to the floor and put Ryan's still blood-smeared hand to his own cheek, cradling his face against it.

Ryan looked down at Brendon, palm sweating against Brendon's skin. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know," said Brendon.

"But ... you always seem to know what you're doing."

"I never know." Brendon turned Ryan's hand over and put it in his lap. When he stood up, his knees cracked.

"Where are you - don't go," said Ryan.

"I wasn't," said Brendon indignantly. Ryan's chair was old, but big and squashy, with plenty of room for two skinny people. The wheels proved a bit of a difficulty, but once the chair was jammed against the wall there was nowhere for it to go. It creaked in protest as Brendon wriggled into Ryan's lap and swung his legs over the side. Ryan blushed and gasped out little laughs as Brendon unconcernedly made himself comfortable. Even sitting down, Ryan was taller than him, so Brendon could tuck his head under Ryan's chin and snuggle in.

"I really like you," whispered Ryan, after a while. He'd started stroking Brendon's hair, fingers ticking the nape of his neck. "I have no idea why, though, anymore."

"Don't worry," said Brendon drowsily, "you'll figure it out eventually."


The auditorium was deserted when they went back to get Brendon's accordion, the setting sun slanting in orange ribs through the dusty windows. It was scattered with the debris of the rehearsal: Jon's photos, squashed doughnuts, scribbled-over sheet music. Brendon swung the accordion case by its strap and took Ryan's hand. Ryan gave him the smallest, sweetest smile at that, which made up for the punch to the shoulder Brendon got when he suggested Ryan might like to carry the accordion.

"I'll give you a ride home," said Ryan. "I mean, if you want."

"Nah," said Brendon. "Can we stop and get smoothies instead? I will totally feel you up in the backseat, no lie."

"Idiot," said Ryan, but he was blushing.

Ryan's car was a beat-up seventies Chevrolet, which someone had spray-painted with the words 'reinvent' and multicoloured hearts. The floor was covered in jewel cases, and Elbow was in the CD player. Brendon approved. He stuck his feet up on the dash and sang along as Ryan drove, badly and very, very slowly. Brendon casually slung his arm across Ryan's shoulders, which nearly caused him to crash into a lamp-post.

"That tickles," he complained. Brendon just smirked.

Brendon directed him to the nearest Smoothie Hut, which was in a run-down mall. Every second store was boarded up, and a kid was descending the escalators on a skateboard.

"This place is a dump," said Ryan. He looked around with a curled lip, and Brendon wondered what it would take to get Ryan to shove him against the wall and wrap his long legs around Brendon's waist.

"I used to come here with my family as a kid, every Sunday after church," said Brendon. "We'd have pancakes there -" he pointed at a cellphone retailer "- and I'd try every kind on the menu, but Jacob would always have strawberries and my mom would tell my sisters that ice cream would rot their teeth. They never listened." He smiled.

Ryan was looking at him strangely. He opened his mouth, and Brendon could tell it was going to be a question - what happened, probably. The point was that nothing had happened. His brothers and sisters moved out and on to their own lives. They probably took his nieces and nephews out for pancakes now, without him. "C'mon," said Brendon, grabbing Ryan's hand and dragging him towards the Smoothie Hut.


Ryan's mouth was still cold from the smoothie when Brendon kissed him, pinning Ryan against the car. He swiped his tongue into Ryan's mouth and made the kiss as dirty as he could, grinding against Ryan in the broad daylight. He heard himself make little groans as he rocked his hips into Ryan's, but Ryan was pushing right back, one hand squeezing Brendon's ass and the other halfway up his shirt.

"I gotta -" Ryan yanked his head back. "The door handle is burning me."

"Huh." Brendon looked up at him from under lidded eyes. Ryan's mouth was all wet. Brendon wanted to tear off their clothes right there, although he had no idea what he'd do next.

"Um." Ryan licked his lips, which did not help. "My house - my dad's at work all day and it's nearby, we could -"

"Fuck yes." Brendon bundled Ryan into the car. "And use the accelerator this time, Jesus Christ."


Their second date was a huge improvement on the first.

Ryan refrained from soy milkshakes, opting instead for a banana and blueberry smoothie with caramel. Brendon credited himself with turning Ryan on to it, but blowing bits of berry at Brendon through a straw was entirely Ryan's idea. Brendon got his own back by grabbing the sequinned scarf Ryan was wearing as a belt and using it to clean his glasses.

They were lazily debating which movie they should go to see afterwards when Jon turned up, with Spencer, Pete and Patrick in tow. "Mind if we join you?" he asked, not as such waiting for an answer before dragging up a chair and crowding Brendon and Ryan into a corner. Brendon might have complained, but Jon's rearrangement had his elbow and thigh brushing Ryan's, and there was no bad there.

Pete hollered for more menus, his arm looped around the back of Patrick's chair. Patrick looked a little uncomfortable. Brendon guessed it was intimidating to be around so many noisy people, although it didn't seem to bother Spencer. Spencer was smirking at Ryan and Ryan was scowling back. Brendon wasn't even going to touch that.

"I liked the accompaniment you did for Pete last night," he said to Patrick, who started at being addressed. Brendon allowed himself a small eye-roll. "Was it an adaptation of one of Bach's preludes?"

"Yeah, but with, like, some jazz components?" Patrick visibly relaxed at the opportunity to talk music. "Good ear. I didn't realise you knew much about piano."

"It's not something you can really tell from looking," said Brendon gravely. Ryan's knee knocked against his, hard. Brendon hissed - Ryan had very bony knees.

"Talk to me," said Pete petulantly, poking Patrick in the side. With some reluctance, Patrick switched his attention to Pete's wolfish grin.

"Like the glasses," said Jon, who'd been following Brendon's conversation with a tiny smile.

"Yeah?" Brendon touched the chunky lime-green frames. "Ryan helped me pick them out. Well actually, he picked them out and forced me to buy them, whatever."

"What?" protested Ryan. "You would have gone for brown ones. Brown."

The food arrived in time to forestall the argument. There was some confusion, as Patrick said flatly, "I didn't order this," only to be told by Pete that he needed feeding up. Jon and Spencer both got burgers, but realised only after taking huge bites that Spencer had got Jon's, with the pickles Spencer hated, and Jon had got Spencer's, with onions that made Jon want to hurl. Brendon cautiously took a bite of his tofu sandwich and didn't immediately want to die, which was a good start. He flicked his eyes sideways to see if Ryan had noticed his magnanimous gesture -

Only to see Ryan nibbling a tiny sliver of chicken nugget, his expression that of someone detonating a bomb with his teeth.

Their eyes met and Brendon clamped his lips shut over a giggle. Ryan took a huge gulp of Coke, shuddering. Brendon wordlessly swapped their meals and swallowed a nugget whole.

"Lame-ass," he whispered, his knee bumping Ryan's.

"Dorkface," returned Ryan. His hand found Brendon's under the table.

"No PDAs while I'm eating," warned Spencer. Brendon leaned forward to flip him the bird and caught sight of Malori at the ice cream fountain. She was alone, wearing a short skirt that meant she'd be going to the Lockjaw later. And she was watching him.

Brendon half-raised his hand in a wave. The nearly-wistful expression on her face disappeared and she rolled her eyes. Brendon sat back.

"Who's that?" asked Ryan.

"Oh, some girl I used to know," said Brendon. He kissed Ryan on the lips, quickly so as not to rouse Spencer's wrath. Then he dumped a handful of chips down the back of Ryan's collar.

"Payback is sweet!" Brendon crowed, while Ryan squawked and wriggled.

"I hate you," said Ryan, very sincerely. His hat was askew and he smelled distinctly vinegarish.

"That's not what you said last night." Brendon leered.

"Brendon!" said everyone at the table except Spencer, who sighed, "Oh, gross. You are such a dick."

And Brendon just laughed and laughed.

Current Mood: accomplishedaccomplished
Current Music: beautiful :: the smashing pumpkins
girl; obsessed: bandom - blue!brendoncomplications_g on December 31st, 2008 05:22 pm (UTC)
Oh wow, this is so completely gorgeous! And weird! And awesome!

Brendon is such a bastard, but I still love him, the oblivious idiot. ;) I love the music aspect of this. Tbh, I love the whole thing.

every Starbucks should have a polar bear: Bands: PATD: Ryan vneckscoradh on December 31st, 2008 06:08 pm (UTC)
You can thank (blame?) murklins for the accordion. She insisted one be included. :D

Thank you, bb! ♥
(no subject) - complications_g on December 31st, 2008 06:15 pm (UTC) (Expand)
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every Starbucks should have a polar bear: bands: PATD: Brendon/Ryan backwards hugscoradh on January 1st, 2009 02:19 am (UTC)
He really is, huh. I totally didn't realise this at the time. I guess I just ... channelled myself?

Thank you! Mine was the dullest place on earth, this is by way of being wish fulfillment. :D
oops: Brendon smile! :Doddishly on December 31st, 2008 06:45 pm (UTC)
"Lame-ass," he whispered, his knee bumping Ryan's.

"Dorkface," returned Ryan. His hand found Brendon's under the table.

Oh, boys. <3
every Starbucks should have a polar bear: bands: PATD: Brendon is evulscoradh on January 1st, 2009 02:23 am (UTC)
Is it bad that my instant reaction to that was 'we hope'? :P
(no subject) - oddishly on January 1st, 2009 02:59 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - scoradh on January 1st, 2009 03:12 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - oddishly on January 1st, 2009 06:13 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - scoradh on January 1st, 2009 08:32 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Taelorromasquerade on December 31st, 2008 08:16 pm (UTC)
Oh my <3 This was lovely. I loved all of it, honestly, I'm not sure I could pick just one bit as my favorite. Brendon was so obnoxious, but lines like this:

Brendon considered this. "I also think about smoothies," he said. And my guitar, and the music in my head, and the way you look when you scowl with the light all behind you.

made me love him anyway. And I'm not sure what it is, but I loved Ryan in this fic as well -- although, I really just loved them all. I really just loved this story in general. <3 Mind if I add you as a friend?
every Starbucks should have a polar bear: bands: PATD: Group hugscoradh on January 1st, 2009 02:27 am (UTC)
Oh man, thank you! I love when people quote at me, it makes me feel less wibbly about whether or not things worked. And please do friend, I never feel I have enough bandom people on my flist.
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every Starbucks should have a polar bear: bands: PATD: Brendon Urie knows who he iscoradh on January 1st, 2009 02:28 am (UTC)
OH GOSH DON'T ASK ME THAT, BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW. :DDD These things just come out of my head, idk where from. Anyway! I'm delighted you enjoyed it! ♥
the girl who sold the world: masquegingerrstar on January 1st, 2009 05:55 am (UTC)
this was refreshingly lovely. it's always nice to see a new take on an old cliche.

every Starbucks should have a polar bear: bands PATD Ryan hatscoradh on January 1st, 2009 03:04 pm (UTC)
That is my usual modus operandi! Thank you. :D
the claw-foot Lady: [bu/rr] i've given all i cansoftlyforgotten on January 1st, 2009 07:10 am (UTC)
Oh, man, I love this so much it's slightly ridiculous. Fake boyfriends is one of my FAVOURITE cliches - I uh, might lurk you on occasion (I like the way you write about books!) and get really excited when I saw that you were writing this - and you pulled this off so brilliantly. I loved what a jerk Brendon was, but that he wasn't so completely awful as to be unlikeable - that there were the parts underneath him about music and friends and family (the moment where he thought about his sister wearing the bridesmaid dress killed me) and they added such depth to him that it was so great to read. (And the way you did that! And my guitar, and the music in my head, and the way you look when you scowl with the light all behind you was just, oh, fuck, I had to make a stupid little gasping noise at the screen, and then also
He'd let Pete play his guitar once, for exactly five minutes. Afterwards he'd spent an hour cuddling it and promising he'd never let Pete touch it ever again
, which made me laugh out loud and beam stupidly.)

I loved that even though the high school itself was pretty awesome for a high school - Ryan's old clunky typewriter, and boys, eeee - there were still these brilliant moments of insight into teenagers, especially with Brendon not being able to sing in class anymore, and "You're Brendon, yeah?" asked Patrick, in an uncertain way that meant he knew all right, but was checking that it was okay to talk to him - just, man, that line was so true and perfect. The whole world of this was really delightful to read and roll around in for a while (and I know I'll be coming back).

But oh, especially, especially Brendon and Ryan because, man, they're my OTP for a reason and this was such a perfect example of that - how different they can be, and how similar. The hopeful, stunted little gestures they made the whole way through (I liked that Ryan's automatic reaction to Brendon's performance wasn't "oh, let's make out!", that he was nervous and unsure, and that His eyes were wet, oh my HEART) and the way that doesn't change entirely by the end, with the meals they ordered (*___*). And Ryan with his pining and Brendon being unsure and the kissing (man, I love good make out scenes and these were really fucking good make out scenes :D), and Ryan starting to understand Brendon even before the fake boyfriends thing and then even more afterward (Ryan was looking at him strangely, OH).

Um. I'll stop babbling at you now, just; I'm really, really glad you wrote this, it was amazing and I loved it.
the claw-foot Lady: [rr] i guess we'll just havesoftlyforgotten on January 1st, 2009 07:12 am (UTC)
OH, AND (because I forgot): KELTIE WAS AWESOME. ♥
(no subject) - scoradh on January 1st, 2009 03:10 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - scoradh on January 1st, 2009 03:09 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - softlyforgotten on January 5th, 2009 11:15 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - scoradh on January 5th, 2009 10:19 pm (UTC) (Expand)
starryfif2starryfif2 on January 1st, 2009 02:13 pm (UTC)
Ahahaha that was wonderful. I loved this!
every Starbucks should have a polar bear: Bands: PATD: Ryan vneckscoradh on January 1st, 2009 03:05 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much! ♥
and that was the beginning of fairies: Bradley & Colinnyx_nox on January 1st, 2009 04:15 pm (UTC)
Oh, love! Just, literally, that is the only word applicable here!

Ryan is so adorable, but hurty *pets him* And I love Jon not liking the new Brendon but still being around, idek why, it's just great.

Just btw, having you on my f-list has dragged me kicking and screaming into bandom and I am now a little bit obsessed. It is entirely your fault, but I kinda love it so.. xD
and that was the beginning of fairiesnyx_nox on January 1st, 2009 04:28 pm (UTC)
Hem, I may have been a bit overcome by the love there, I meant to actually say things!
This line is just made of win Only to see Ryan nibbling a tiny sliver of chicken nugget, his expression that of someone detonating a bomb with his teeth.

It's cute and funny but it's also the progress and them coming full circle, suffice to say I love it very much.

The meal-swapping and the thumbtack/wet eyes were my very favourite parts, they kinda summed up the whole dynamic in a really squishy wonderful way and made me lol and sigh and angst (not to mention very much want to cuddle Ryan) respectively.

Lime Green Glasses! *squee*

Alright I think I'm good this time :P
(no subject) - scoradh on January 1st, 2009 08:25 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - nyx_nox on January 4th, 2009 12:07 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - scoradh on January 1st, 2009 08:21 pm (UTC) (Expand)
no sequels forthcoming: if this is obsessed I'm losing my shamedisarm_d on January 1st, 2009 08:31 pm (UTC)
I was a little wary going into this because I have a gigantic embarrassment squick, but I actually totally loved this story! It wasn't mean hearted, even though Brendon was definitely a jerk. I love the way you wrote dialogue; the humour in the story worked really well for me. There was that little edge of sadness (Brendon running into the house before his mother saw him in the tree house), but also a lot of sweetness, which never felt forced. It read to me as being about growing up? Ultimately? And I really enjoyed how subtly that came through.
every Starbucks should have a polar bear: bands PATD Bden newspaperscoradh on January 1st, 2009 08:40 pm (UTC)
I actually sat there for a minute going '...huh? Embarrassment squick?' and then I remembered the warning I gave people. :D Go me.

Yes, I think that's the point. I made Brendon a jerk because it was fun to write, but never with the intention of leaving him stuck like that. Liking Ryan was supposed to change him. I didn't succeed so well in that, but it was about Brendon as much as it was about the Brendon-and-Ryan show. Eee, thank you!
cellophne_chstcellophne_chst on January 1st, 2009 11:53 pm (UTC)
so, that was amazing, I must admit, I had to stop reading halfway through the first part, because I was pissed at Brendon for being such an asshole. But! Then I finished it, and Brendon made me all smiley faced again. It was good. Very good. You will be my new friend, kay?
every Starbucks should have a polar bear: bands: PATD: rockstar teethscoradh on January 2nd, 2009 03:24 pm (UTC)
Heehee! But I did warn ye. I did. :D

Sure thing, babes! Glad you liked it. ♥
they tried to taze mewishfulclicking on January 2nd, 2009 06:17 am (UTC)
I'm just going to paste what I said over AIM about this:

I'm like reading this AU that takes the traits of all those high school movies of the late 90s (10 Things, she's All that, Drive Me Crazy) and present pure fantasticness. It's Brendon/Ryan and features my current favorite new thing (douchey Brendon with a heart of gold) It's making me smile so hard right now

This was hilarious :) Loved it so much!
every Starbucks should have a polar bear: bands: PATD: 9 in the afternoonscoradh on January 2nd, 2009 03:27 pm (UTC)
Is it weird that I'm totally flattered that you were talking on IM about this? Because I am, totally flattered. :D

Anyway! I'm glad you liked the high school part (esp. because I'm not American or anything, so my writing is entirely based on those films). Thanks for reading. ♥

Edited at 2009-01-02 03:28 pm (UTC)
(no subject) - wishfulclicking on January 2nd, 2009 03:31 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - scoradh on January 2nd, 2009 10:45 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Jas Masson: ryho-know you're doing that on purposejasmasson on January 2nd, 2009 04:46 pm (UTC)
Loved this :)
every Starbucks should have a polar bear: Bands: PATD dorks in lovescoradh on January 2nd, 2009 10:48 pm (UTC)
Thank you!
you do not cross a sugarbaker woman: was it dysentery? (p!atd: brendon/ryan)marksykins on January 2nd, 2009 08:39 pm (UTC)
Oh, how cute was this? I love all douchey Brendons.
every Starbucks should have a polar bear: Art: bandsscoradh on January 2nd, 2009 10:49 pm (UTC)
So do I! It comes disturbingly easy...
allyndra: Panicallyndra on January 2nd, 2009 08:43 pm (UTC)
Wow, I just realized I hadn't commented on this. It's fairly amazing, I hope you know that.

Other people have commented on the asshole-ishness of Brendon and on his eventual redemption, so I'll comment on the other Brendon-centric things that made an impact for me: his family. The bits pointing out the changes in his family since his siblings left home really hit me. Like the long grass in the backyard and the mention of them maybe going out for pancakes with their own kids. It made Brendon a much more sypathetic character for me.

Also, the music. The fact that Brendon stopped taking lessons, stopped singing in class. I know he hasn't given up music entirely, but it's kind of painful to think of him abandoning something he loves that much as part of his efforts to be a 'popular asshole.'

I love the resolution a lot. The fact that Ryan isn't changing Brendon so much as giving him a reason to be himself again works for me. He's still a jerk, but it's way more bearable when he shows that he's a good guy, too.

Thanks for sharing!
every Starbucks should have a polar bear: bands PATD bden melancholyscoradh on January 2nd, 2009 10:52 pm (UTC)
Thank you! :DDD I found putting in those little touches was the most fun part of writing this - I'm never too happy with how my romantic interludes work out, but these? I'm rock-solid on.

The fact that Ryan isn't changing Brendon so much as giving him a reason to be himself again works for me.

Oh, that's so brilliant! It could have been my mission statement for this fic, if fics had mission statements.

Thank you so much for reading and writing this lovely comment!

Edited at 2009-01-02 10:56 pm (UTC)