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oh freckle, freckle what makes you so special? everything, too awesome to not make it a public post!

2009-10-22T04:49:59Z

Holy Shit so apparantly while I was gone from the internet Patrick decided to go on and get hotter than he was. Holy crap. i'm sorry Flist for not shrinking this but please feel free to oggle and appreciate the dripping sex that is this man *_________*

So, I noticed when I went to see blink and FOB opened for them, that Patrick looked like he was loosing a little weight and looking hotter than ever, but this is just ngh. *drools*

Are you for real with this Patrick Stump?

Yes, yes apparently you are *___*

Please don't let me stop you, continue being hot.

ngh!!!

Aw, so much hot and adorable in one tiny body.

Oh. Sweet. Jesus. Be glad you can't read my mind right this minute ppl, be glad.

*sigh*

And now a little Pete and Patrick

This picture oh. my. god. sweaty!Patrick, so hot. And, not only can you see through his shirt you can see his nipples!!!

I really like this picture. I love how the light just reflects off his peaches and cream complexion. Why can't my skin be that great looking? So jealous.

Aww, makes my heart happy. Brings me so much nostalgia as well. I love when they do things like this, just screams Peterick &hearts; &hearts; &hearts;

And lastly, this:

I know it's just the angle but in my eyes I'll always see this picture and see them holding hands ^__^

So to recap, Patrick got even hotter and held hands with Pete. Peterick is well and alive, LOL.

P.S. The good thing about making post is that no one needs to know how much time I spent ~~salivating~~ looking over these pictures before I posted them \o/

fic: the curves of your lips, brendon/spencer

2009-09-17T06:47:04Z

Title: The Curves of Your Lips
Rating: PG
Pairing: Brendon/Spencer
Summary: First time kisses.
Word Count: 1812
Disclaimer: The boys belong to themselves and possibly each other. The title was taken from a quote in Oscar Wilde’s, The Picture of Dorian Gray which, also, not mine. Full quote is “The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history.”
Beta: srchxandxdstry
A/N: So this was written for an awesome prompt afterxbirth wrote which basically said Brendon/Spencer first kiss in a movie theatre, I hope you like it.

Let it never be said that Spencer Smith is a bad brother or friend. It is Saturday morning and he has agreed to take his sisters to an early movie so his parents can decorate the house for the girls’ joint birthday party.

Spencer is a good son but perhaps not such a good friend, since he also volunteers the aid of his best friend Brendon Urie. And perhaps he’s not such a good brother either because he, along with Brendon, are having too much fun throwing candy at the back of Crystal’s and Jackie’s heads. In his defense it’s their fault for deciding to sit a few rows in front of them.

Crystal and Jackie do not appreciate the bombardment and retaliate by throwing popcorn back. It’s a good thing it’s so early and they’re the only ones in the theatre or else they would have been thrown out ten minutes ago. The battle finally ends when the girls get fed up and threaten to call his mom and have him grounded if they don’t let them watch the rest of the movie in peace.

Spencer and Brendon get banished to the very back of the theatre. Brendon plops down on a seat, he’s still laughing because Spencer just got black mailed by his little sisters.

“Just wait until Ryan hears this - you’re never going to live it down,” Brendon says through his laughter.

Spencer shrugs. He’s not worried; he has worse stuff on Ryan then this. He throws the last Skittle at Brendon’s face before sitting down next to him. Brendon catches it in his mouth and throws up victory arms.

“Dork,” Spencer says with nothing but affection in his voice.

“I know you are but what am I?” Brendon sing-songs. Spencer laughs again, because hanging out with Brendon is always fun no matter what.

“I am the sexy beast who schools you at Guitar Hero and Halo,” Spencer says with a straight face. Brendon gasps and twists in his seat so he’s facing Spencer better.

“Those are lies, Spencer Smith,” Brendon says with mock outrage and leans forward into Spencer’s space, his hands resting on the armrest between them for balance.

“Well, except for the sexy part, because you are.” Spencer raises an eyebrow.

Brendon’s eyes go wide, realizing what he just said. “I mean you know, you do that thing with your hips like a girl, not that you look like a girl or are sexy like a girl, I mean-” Brendon continues, his face right there in front of Spencer, teeth worrying his full bottom lip.

“You’re hot, that is, but not like a girl, like a boy. No I mean like a man, a young man,” Brendon continues babbling, unaware that Spencer’s attention is elsewhere - his mouth to be precise.

Spencer’s always kind of had the impulse to kiss Brendon’s lips just to see if they were as soft as they look.

“… even though, sometimes, you wear girl’s jeans, which totally compliment your hips, but it’s cool because you’re really secure in your sexuality and you don’t really care what.”

Spencer watches Brendon’s lips move and suddenly he’s all too aware that he has never kissed anyone before and he wants Brendon to be his first kiss.

“… kind of admirable and I think being confident is what really makes you.” Brendon’s words hardly register with Spencer.

Without further thought than ‘what the hell, he thinks I’m hot’, Spencer closes his eyes, darts forward and crushes their lips together, literally - it kind of hurts because Brendon was still talking and Spencer bumped his lips on Brendon's teeth. Brendon gasps, loudly, he goes quiet and stills. Spencer lips are now on the very corner of Brendon’s unmoving lips. He opens his eyes to find Brendon staring at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“Sorry,” Spencer says, frantically pulling away from Brendon.

Holy shit! Who does things like that? Since when does ‘I think you’re hot’ translate to ‘you can kiss me’. Brendon must think he’s a freak if the way he’s staring at Spencer is any indication. Spencer ducks his head. “Brendon, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“No, no Spencer.” There is a hand on his upper arm; reluctantly, Spencer looks up at Brendon who is biting his lip, drawing Spencer’s entire attention back to his mouth before his gaze travels up to Brendon’s eyes.

“I wasn’t ready,” Brendon says in a soft whisper.

Out of all the things Spencer expected Brendon to say, that was not it. He swallows nervously and cocks his head slightly and asks, “What?”

“I mean. I mean, I wasn’t ready. We could,” Brendon trails off quietly before continuing again, “Could we try again?” It’s Brendon’s turn to blush and duck his head. Spencer shouldn’t find that completely adorable but he does - it makes him want to slip his hand under Brendon’s chin, lift up his face and lean forward again to kiss those full lips.

His brain to mouth and motor function filter must be out of commission because before he knows what he’s doing, he’s got his fingers under Brendon’s chin and he’s slowly tilting Brendon’s face up.

Spencer throws one quick glance towards his sisters who are still engrossed in the movie before he asks, “Are you ready now?”

There’s a small smile playing on Brendon’s lips before he nods his head. Spencer leans forward as does Brendon. This time he keeps his eyes opened. Brendon’s eyes flutter and close a millisecond before their lips touch. Spencer feels a wave of tenderness and lets his own eyes slip shut as he kisses Brendon’s lips.

Brendon lips are soft. The kiss makes Spencer’s lips tingle - he can feel his heart hammering in his chest and his hands start to sweat a little because he has no idea what he’s doing and he’s pretty sure Brendon doesn’t know either.

They’re just touching lips but it feels great. Spencer can feel Brendon tilting his head a little to the side, trying out a new position, a better position. It’s almost a shock to Spencer to realize how exhilarating it is to know that they’re both clueless here, they’re both clueless and learning this together, stumbling and learning what the other likes.

Spencer pulls back a little and leans in again, fitting his mouth over Brendon’s, lick’s Brendon’s full bottom lip before taking it in between his own lips. Brendon tilts his head back a little and lets out a soft noise like a sigh as he kisses Spencer back. They exchange slow, tentative kisses before they break apart.

Brendon is blushing, which makes Spencer smile but then Brendon licks his lips and Spencer is leaning forward again chasing Brendon’s tongue inside his mouth. In theory, Spencer knows that French kissing involves two tongues touching - in practice it is so much more than he expected.

The first touch of Brendon’s tongue sends a jolt of awareness through Spencer’s body. He presses closer to Brendon, wishing the armrest wasn’t between them. His hands go up to cradle the nape of Brendon’s neck, not pulling or guiding; just holding. Brendon’s hand goes to the spot above his hip. The weight and warmth of his hand makes Spencer feel anchored down, which, he’s surprised to learn, is reassuring.

Spencer continues to explore Brendon’s mouth. Brendon tastes sweet from all the candy he ate earlier but there is a taste under all the sugar that is unmistakably Brendon, just Brendon. Spencer seeks the taste out until he feels like it’s a part of him, until he feels like he’s memorized it enough to never forget it and until he feels breathless and he has to move away to breathe.

“Wow,” Brendon says sounding just as breathless as Spencer feels.

“Yeah,” Spencer agrees, because he’s not sure he’s able to speak any words more complicated than that.

Spencer is still holding onto the back of Brendon’s head but Brendon doesn’t seem in a hurry to move, so he leaves his hands where they are. They’re just smiling, goofily, at each other when Spencer’s thoughts, the ones that don’t have anything to do with Brendon, mouth and hot, catch up to him. He just kissed his best friend, he just kissed his best friend and it was awesome.

Suddenly he feels unsure; he lets his hands drop from the back of Brendon’s head down to Brendon’s arms.

“That was okay, right?” Spencer asks.

In answer Brendon leans forward and kisses him lightly at first then he adds pressure. Spencer opens his mouth and lets Brendon’s tongue slip inside - the move is shy at first then it becomes less tentative and more curious, which makes Spencer wish they were in his bedroom so he could push Brendon down on his bed and have all the time in the world to just kiss and touch.

“That was more than okay,” Brendon finally says when he pulls away.

“So you wouldn’t mind doing this again, right?” Spencer has to know he can’t just go around assuming Brendon wants to kiss him as much as Spencer wants to kiss him outside of a dark movie theatre.

Brendon looks at him like he’s an idiot but he smiles bashfully when he says, “I’m pretty sure I spent like ten minutes rambling on about how hot I think you are.”

Spencer smiles because, while he was only half listening, that had been pretty epic. However, that’s not a real answer; Spencer opens his mouth to say as much but Brendon’s cuts him of.

“Though, next time should definitely not be in a dark theatre with your sisters a few rows in front of us,” Brendon says, echoing Spencer’s previous thoughts. “But I wouldn’t say no to extensive make out sessions in your room or mine,” he finishes with an exaggerated waggle of his eyebrows.

Spencer laughs because he has a crush on the biggest dork besides himself. “I think we can arrange that,” says Spencer.

A bout of loud laughter from his sisters draws their attention, and they look up at the screen but it seems that they missed the punch line - Spencer could care less. They pull away from each other and sit back on their seats to face the screen. Any further kissing is postponed until they’re alone.

Spencer contemplates holding Brendon’s hand. He rolls his eyes at himself; he just had his tongue down Brendon’s mouth, holding his hand shouldn’t make him feel equally nervous.

He grabs Brendon’s hand before he can chicken out and promptly feels like a giant dork but before he can take his hand back Brendon intertwines their fingers and rests his head on Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer relaxes, tilts his head until it’s resting against the top of Brendon’s head and pretends to watch the rest of the movie.

fic: hereby declared oblivious by the democratic state of high school, pete/patrick

2009-09-14T17:39:16Z

Title: Hereby Declared Oblivious by the Democratic State of High School
Rating: PG-13
Paring: Pete/Patrick
Word Count: 3355
Disclaimer: So not mine and this is just a work of fiction
Summary: Yearbook A/U, wherein, Patrick is baffled by the meaning of write-in votes and Pete is gleeful.
Beta: srchxandxdstry
A/N: Another self-indulgent piece xD

"Greta, this better be important because I'm losing Patrick time here," Pete says, walking into the multimedia room where Greta asked to meet him after school. Greta is busy pulling books out of boxes, but turns her head to look at Pete.

"Oh, it is," Greta says. She smiles and walks over to Pete, handing him one of the books from the box. Pete takes it, giving her a suspicious look before looking down. In his hands is a copy of the yearbook. The yearbooks aren't meant for distribution until tomorrow.

"Yay,” Pete says unenthusiastically. He gives her an unimpressed look. “I get an early copy of the yearbook," Pete says, completely lack luster.

Not losing her smile, Greta crosses her arms. "Turn it to page 65."

Pete does as told. He stares down at the page, and his lips stretch into an impossibly happy grin. He looks up at Greta, dashing forward to give her a hug.

“Greta this is great!” Greta laughs in response.

“I have to show Patrick, bye!” No sooner are the words out of his mouth then he’s out the door, the smile on his face never faltering.

The shit eating grin Pete has on his face would make Patrick cower in fear. However, a lifetime of years in friendship kind of desensitizes a guy to his best friend’s manic looks.

"Oh my God, do I want to know?" Patrick asks as soon as Pete bounces into his room.

Instead of answering, Pete hands Patrick the yearbook. Patrick takes the offered book and looks at Pete suspiciously.

"An early copy of the year book," Patrick says. Patrick can see Pete vibrating with the amount of glee he must be trying to contain. Patrick shakes his head and thinks Pete should get a fucking medal or at least a blue ribbon for holding back whatever it is Pete wants to tell him.

"I marked a page - open it," he demands.

With a reluctant sigh, Patrick opens the book in his hands to the marked page. He expects to see that embarrassing band picture, the one that Pete ruined when he jumped in at the last second, wrapped Patrick in a tight hug and gave him a big wet kiss on the cheek.

What he is looking at, however, is not that picture. Patrick looks up at Pete, who by this point is almost blue with the effort of containing his glee.

"I don't get it." Patrick looks back down at the page before him and the picture therein, as if it were a difficult puzzle.

The picture itself isn’t what’s puzzling: it’s the two of them; Patrick is sitting down, legs stretched before him, his back resting against a tree. There’s a book in his hand but his face is tilted down, a smile on his lips as he looks down at Pete who has his head on Patrick’s lap and is smiling up at him - the pose is not puzzling at all. Poses like that are daily occurrences, because Pete likes to think Patrick is his own personal pillow. What confuses Patrick is the words above the picture.

Before Patrick can ask any questions, Pete seems to be no longer able to contain his excitement. "Patrick. Patrick. Patrick they love us,” Pete exclaims.

He walks closer to Patrick and wraps him in a tight, side-hug, his face nuzzling Patrick’s neck. Patrick’s response is to tilt his head back to give Pete more room because, well, this is Pete - it’s what he does and if it feels kind of nice, well, then that’s just a bonus for Patrick.

"Umm, is this a joke?" Patrick finally asks. Pete, who had been nipping lightly on Patrick’s ear lobe stops and pulls away.

"Patrick, we got nominated for cutest couple, how is that a joke?" His face is serious if a little hurt.

Patrick sighs, takes the few steps to his bed and sits down. "First off, we weren't even on the ballot. Second, and I think this one is the most important fact, we are not a couple," he states slowly, making sure Pete understands what he’s saying. Not that Patrick would mind but he has given up on that idea - that ship sailed a long time ago, particularly when he realized Pete wasn’t gay, wasn’t even bi.

"Oh ye of little faith. You clearly underestimate our adoring public," Pete says.

Patrick rolls his eyes. “What I want to know is - how did you even pulled this off?" Patrick asks with one hand waving at the opened page in front of him. Pete had to have rigged the ballot somehow, he’s just not sure how he pulled one over Greta the Iron-Fist yearbook editor.

"Trick, I didn't do anything - it was the people, they love us." Upon seeing Patrick’s disbelieving look, Pete groans and takes his phone out and dials a number.

Patrick looks on, confused.

“Tell him, he doesn’t believe me,” Pete says immediately choosing to forgo the normal “hello” niceties and shoves the phone into Patrick’s hand.

“Umm, hello?” Patrick says, unsure of who Pete just called.

“Patrick!” A cheerful voice greets him. He recognizes Greta’s voice. “I take it this means Pete showed you the year book.”

“Yeah?” Patrick admits warily.

“It’s real,” says Greta. “Pete didn’t do anything to rig it. You guys won by a landslide,” she informs him cheerfully. Well there goes Patrick’s theory.

“But we weren’t even on the ballot,” Patrick exclaims, because even though he knows Greta would never allow rigging to go on in her yearbook he still feels doubtful of the outcome.

“I know; you were a write-in vote.” And the sheer delight in her voice makes Patrick be a little suspicious but this is Greta - Greta doesn’t lie.

“But why?” Patrick is so confused it’s not even funny, except to Greta, who is totally chuckling.

“Patrick, how can someone as smart as you be so clueless? Pete, I can understand, but you? People just got tired of you two being oblivious and someone at the dance said something about you two needing it spelled out, so there you go,” Greta says, her tone final.

“Umm, okay,” Patrick says, and gets a dial tone for his troubles. He frowns at the phone before giving it back to Pete, who takes it and slips it back in his pocket.

“Patrick,” Pete says excitedly.

“Pete, we’re not dating.” Patrick runs a hand through his hair, or he tries to but he forgets he’s still wearing his hat so he ends up knocking it off his head and to the floor, where he leaves it.

“Patrick, we totally are,” Pete says eagerly. “We go out on dates,” he explains.

“No, not dates. We just hang out together, a lot, and kind of just by ourselves, totally just as friends,” Patrick trails off. Holy shit, could it be true?

Pete snorts. “Yeah and we hold hands like just friends and we sleep together and cuddle like just friends and we went to Prom together as just friends that’s why we danced with no one else but each other like just friends and we’re applying to the same schools to be together as just friends.”

“Oh,” Patrick kind of sighs in surprise.

“Face it - we’re dating the only thing we haven’t -” Pete stops and slaps his forehead. “Of course.” He rolls his eyes at himself; he goes to stand in front of Patrick and gets down on one knee.

Patrick’s eyes go wide, but Pete just gives him a completely genuine smile, like a real one not his ‘oh this will be a great joke one’ but his ‘wow, Patrick, you’re kind of really awesome, how are you even real’ one, which Patrick is the recipient of at least once a day.

“Patrick, do you want to go out with me?” Pete asks. Patrick blinks and then he smiles because Pete has been his best friend for years, and he can tell when his friend is bull shitting him: Pete isn’t.

Patrick laughs, but it’s not his mean laugh, so Pete’s not worried.

“So, you like me?” Patrick asks, his voice is quiet but he’s smiling, that cute little smile he only gets when he’s really happy. And how can Patrick even ask that - Pete has pretty much adored him since the first day they met.

Before Pete can answer, Patrick’s eyes go wide. “Oh my God, that’s why our moms had us take a billion pictures on prom day. And the reason your cousin sent one invitation for the two of us to her wedding, instead of giving me a separate one, and I thought she was doing it to save money.”

Pete only nods at him indulgently. “Holy shit, we are a couple,” Patrick says with a little hysterical laugh.

“Yeah,” Pete agrees, his tone light. He gets serious and shifts on his knee. “But, you’re not like, opposing are you? Because it’s, like, way too late to tell me I can’t have my Patrick.”

Patrick looks thoughtful for a second.

“Well, you did ask so nicely,” Patrick says, and now that he knows that Pete does like him like that he does nothing to fight off the giddy feeling in his stomach or the stupid smile he knows he must be sporting.

“You know,” Patrick begins casually, “there is something we haven’t done that couples do.”

Pete cocks his head to the side in the way that Patrick knows means ‘go on’.

Patrick takes a deep breath and says, “We haven’t really kissed.”

Kissing is awesome; kissing Patrick will be beyond that. Pete is so excited for this kissing prospect, that he scrambles up off the floor as quickly as he can and kind of trips on his way up. He ends up taking a hold of Patrick’s shoulders to keep his balance. Patrick, not expecting the sudden added weight, falls back - Pete landing on top of him.

Patrick is laughing, and Pete looks down at Patrick’s smiling face. He can work with this. He smiles. “I’m going to kiss you now.” That’s all the warning Patrick gets before Pete leans down and gives him a tiny sweet kiss on his lips.

Patrick sighs into the kiss - it’s nice and sweet and gentle but he wants to kiss Pete for real. He opens his mouth and licks the bottom of Pete’s lip, and Pete sucks in a breath. He pulls back and looks down at Patrick.

“I’m trying to be a gentleman,” he says kind of breathlessly, and Patrick rolls his eyes. “If you keep doing that, all bets are off,” he warns.

Patrick snorts because Pete can be such an idiot sometimes. Instead of informing Pete that he’s being an idiot, he says, “I don’t want you to be a gentleman. I want you to kiss me like you want to.” Patrick licks his lips.

He watches fascinated as Pete follows the movement of his tongue with rapt attention. It’s like something snaps inside of Pete and before Patrick can finish running his tongue over his bottom lip, Pete is leaning down, capturing Patrick’s tongue and just delving into his mouth.

Finally, Patrick thinks, as he tilts his head up to deepen the kiss. Pete kisses with a possessive devotion; he presses his entire body flush against Patrick. Pete bends his arms at the elbows, dropping down closer to Patrick; he moves his hands closer to Patrick’s face, cradling his head. It makes Patrick feel safe and hot all over.

They kiss for what seems like forever. When Pete finally gets too heavy on top of Patrick to be comfortable, they switch to lying on their sides. Pete throws one leg over Patrick’s hip and Patrick slips his leg between Pete’s.

“Such a good idea,” Pete states before eagerly finding Patrick’s mouth again. Patrick kisses back with equal eagerness; he presses closer to Pete, bringing their bodies impossibly closer.

Patrick can’t believe how good this feels, how right they fit together, how natural it is to lay next to his best friend and kiss him and touch him and make him moan, swallowing the sounds into his mouth and feel the vibrations from his throat all the way down to his toes.

Pete seems to share the same sentiment if the way he’s touching Patrick everywhere he can reach is any indication. Pete seems determined to find out what makes Patrick bite down on Pete’s lip and push closer to him.

It’s a long while later that heavy kissing turns into lazy pecks. They’re still in the same, side lying position, and Pete nips Patrick’s bottom lip and slowly pulls back, giving Patrick a content smile.

Patrick smiles back and runs his hand down Pete’s forearm. “So, how long have you liked me?” Patrick asks, his hand now trailing to Pete’s back, tracing slow figure eights.

Pete sighs and closes his eyes. “Remember when we were seven and I got my tonsils taken out and the nurses had to carry you out of my room kicking and screaming so they could take me into the operating room?”

Patrick tucks his head under Pete’s chin and nods. He does remember. That was the most horrible day of his life. At that age, his opinion of hospitals was not a good one and he had truly believed that Pete was going to die.

He feels Pete kiss the top of his head before he continues. “I remember thinking that I had to pretend to be brave so you wouldn’t be upset, but inside I was really scared too - but not about having the surgery. What scared the shit out of me was how easily they took you away from me,” Pete says, his voice sounded strained and his arms tightened around Patrick. Patrick returned the embrace, placing a tiny kiss on Pete’s throat.

Pete sighs and relaxes again before he says, “Then I went into surgery and when I woke up, you were there sleeping in my bed. I felt so relieved and I just remember thinking that I had to find a way of never letting anyone take you away again; I had to think of a way of keeping you with me always. At the time my knowledge of marriage consisted of promising to be with someone you loved all your life and I thought there’s no one I’ll ever love for all my life but Patrick. That’s how I decided that if I wanted to keep you with me forever, there was no better answer then to marry you. And so when you woke up I told you I was going to marry you,” Pete finishes with a small shrug and a shy smile.

Patrick chuckles. “I thought you were drowsy from the anesthesia when you said that.”

“Well, yeah but I meant it,” Pete says.

“So you knew when you were seven that you were in love with me?” Patrick asks.

“Yes.” The word is spoken with such finality that there’s no way Patrick can doubt Pete’s sincerity.

“Oh,” Patrick says and smiles, leaning forward to kiss Pete lightly on the lips.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Patrick asks.

“I was waiting for you to catch up.”

“Oh,” Patrick says again, because Pete had never been a gentleman except, apparently, only when it comes to Patrick.

“When did you know?” Pete asks.

Patrick shrugs. “I don’t know - I’ve always loved you, it’s just changed through the years so that I can’t pin-point the moment I started thinking I wouldn’t really mind if you were more than my friend.”

Pete is now tracing Patrick’s red lips with his thumb. Patrick likes the feeling of Pete’s rough calloused finger on his lips and without warning he sucks Pete’s thumb into his mouth.

Pete gasps, loudly, and Patrick smiles around Pete’s thumb, before he teases the tip with his tongue. Pete takes a sharp breath in, pulls his thumb out of Patrick’s mouth and crushes their lips together. His hand goes to the small of Patrick’s back to pull him forward so he can grind into him.

“The things I want to do to your mouth,” Pete groans, pulling back and kissing under Patrick’s ear. Patrick shivers with the thought that he wants to see, feel and hear the things that Pete wants to do to his mouth.

“I -” Patrick stutters.

“Patrick!” Patrick’s mom calls from the first floor of the house. Patrick groans.

“Yeah mom?” he calls back, and Pete, the bastard, has moved on to open mouthed kisses on his neck.

“Is Pete staying for dinner?” she asks.

“Yes I am, Mrs. Stump,” Pete answers, pulling away from Patrick’s neck.

“You boys wash your hands and come down, then.”

“Okay,” Patrick yells one more time. He looks at Pete and smiles for what feels like the billionth time since Pete barged into his room.

“Thwarted,” Pete pouts.

“For now,” Patrick replies before disentangling from Pete. He stands by the bed and stretches his muscles - his back cracks when he stretches his hands over his head.

He watches Pete sit on the edge of the bed. There is a quiet stillness to Pete as he watches Patrick stretch.

“I meant it you know,” Pete says. “I know we’re still young but you’re it Patrick, there is no one else for me,” he confesses. Patrick stares at him; Pete ducks his head, not meeting Patrick’s eyes and starts to nervously poke at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. Pete only fiddles with things when he’s unsure of something.

Patrick feels warm all over, and he tries not to rolls his eyes because that would be mean – instead, he walks to stand in front of Pete, he shuffles his feet until the toes of his shoes lineup perfectly with Pete’s, and he stands there and he stands there until Pete looks up.

“What makes you think I don’t feel the same way?” Patrick says softly. The answering smile that blooms on Pete’s face may have possibly just made Patrick’s heart flutter. He almost wants to laugh at himself for how long it took him to realize he was in love with Pete.

“Patrick, Pete!” Patrick’s mom calls.

“Come on,” Pete says, standing up. He gives Patrick one last kiss before snatching Patrick’s hat from the floor and placing it back on his head.

“Thanks,” Patrick says. On their way out, Pete uses one of his hands to hold Patrick’s, which does not make Patrick want to bat his eyelashes like a school girl, thank you very much, and with the other he snatches up the yearbook.

“What are you doing with that?” Patrick asks his voice high pitched.

“I’m going to show your mom - she’s going to be so proud,” Pete tells him before pulling him along. Patrick groans and reluctantly follows Pete down the stairs. Patrick’s mom doesn’t even bat an eyelash at their joint hands - she only smiles and rolls her eyes.

After dinner, Pete unveils the yearbook with a lavish sweep of his hand. Pete ushers Patrick’s mom into the living room, sits next to her and pulls Patrick down next to him. Pete shows Patrick’s mom the picture of the two of them along with the accolade they received while bragging how they weren’t even on the ballot.

Patrick’s mom does look proud of them. And the rest of the evening is passed by Pete showing Patrick’s mom all the awesome shots of Pete&Patrick (because that’s what reads under every picture they’re in together) in the yearbook, and much to Patrick’s horror, the band picture does make it in. Pete says he’s going to cut it out and frame it and hang it along with the cutest couple one.

Patrick casually, under his breath so his mom doesn’t hear, tells Pete if he wants to get laid any time this century he won’t. Pete, contrary to popular belief, is not an idiot and doesn’t mention it the rest of the evening.

fic: in a box! brendon/ryan

2009-08-31T18:56:28Z

This came from my inability to draw anything. This was a cute littel comic in my head but since I fail at drawing I wrote a crack fic /o\ This is possibly the crakiest thing I've ever written.

Title: In A Box!
Rating: PG
Paring: Brendon/Ryan
Summary: Crack!fic. Brendon gives Ryan a present.
Word Count: 435
Disclaimer: So not mine and this is just a work of fiction.
A/N: This is where the inspiration for this came from xD

Brendon carefully adjusts Ryan’s birthday present one last time. He nods with satisfaction and calls out to Ryan.

“Ryan, come in here for a second,” Brendon yells and waits patiently.

“Happy birthday, Ryan,” Brendon says when he sees Ryan walking into the living room.

Ryan gives Brendon a happy smile. Ryan’s eyes wander to the gift-wrapped box. Ryan thinks it may be something heavy since Brendon is holding the present kind of low in front of himself and with both hands.

“This is for you,” Brendon says when he sees Ryan eyeing his present.

“Thanks, Bren.” Ryan walks up to Brendon and takes a hold of the box. Brendon however doesn’t relinquish his hold.

“Brendon let go,” he says.

A giddy giggle escapes Brendon’s mouth before he bites his lip. “No, no I’ll just hold it for you.”

Ryan gives him a dubious look but shrugs. Sometimes it’s better to just let Brendon have his way. He takes a hold of the lid and opens his present.

Ryan looks into the box and stares and stares and then stares some more. In front of him Brendon is snickering and vibrating with excitement.

Ryan swallows and finally tears his eyes away from his present to look at Brendon.

“That’s umm,” he’s not sure how to begin. “That’s your dick?” He finally manages; somehow, it comes out as a question. Though, it is very obvious that that is Brendon’s dick (standing very much at attention) poking out from a hole at the bottom of the box.

“In a box!” Brendon exclaims throwing his hands up in victory. Brendon’s erection keeps the box in place. Ryan is not sure whether to be impressed or horrified.

“Brendon, you’re giving me your dick, in a box, as a present, really?” Ryan asks.

Brendon waggles his eyes brows suggestively and shuffles closer to Ryan. “Yeah, you like it?”

“I’ll take it,” Ryan says with a shrug. He grabs Brendon by the hand and takes him into his bedroom where he finishes unwrapping his present.

And as if that wasn't enough.

Outtake:

“My dick. Is stuck. In the box.”

“Why is it stuck?”

“Because I wasn’t thinking sexy thoughts when I put my dick in the box.”

“Well, think unsexy thoughts, then.”

“Oh, right. Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts. Like what?”

“I don’t know, sad kittens?”

“Nope.”

“Sad Jon Walker.”

“Nope.”

“A Capri Sun less world.”

“That’s just mean and also not working.”

“Naked Megan Fox”

*thump* (sound of box hitting the floor)

“That did it!”

“Of course.”

“But now your present is deflated.”

“Let me just get naked.”

“Aaaand we’re back in business!”

fic: patrick goes to jail (pete/patrick)

2009-08-28T01:40:22Z

Title: Patrick Goes To Jail
Rating: PG-13
Paring: Pete/Patrick
Summary: Patrick gets arrested and has a tough four hours in jail.
Word Count: 1353, so unbeta’d, sorry /o\
Disclaimer: So not mine and this is just a work of fiction.
Warnings: For inaccuracies regarding the police booking process and also, girlfriend/wife? What girlfriend/wife? xD
A/N: Wrtitten as a comment fic for kittygrenade </span>because we agreed that this event needed to be commemorated with lots of fic. Speaking of which, where are all the awesome Patrick goes to jail fics?

Patrick is being booked; he is reluctantly giving away all the possessions he has on his person. He gives up his wallet, his cell phone and lastly his hat. He takes off his hat and he, possibly, tears up little and maybe whispers a loving, quick, goodbye to it before putting it in the bag they give him.

They take his mug-shot and soon enough he's being walked to the cell where he's going to be held in. He sighs and notices he's being held in a cell with hookers and hobos.

He tries to make himself as small as possible which is pretty easy considering his stature but the twitchy hobo in the corner is scooting closer to him and asks him for change.

"Umm, I don't have any. They took all I had on me before they put me in here," Patrick explains nervously.

The hobo looks at him dubiously before reaching for Patrick's pockets. Patrick's eyes go wide and he backs up against the wall even more.

"No, seriously I have no money!" he squeaks in earnest, batting the hobo’s grabby hands away.

Patrick is well aware that he probably looks like a frightened animal which is okay because that's what he feels like. The hobo grumbles under his breath but moves away from him. Patrick maybe sighs in relief a little too loudly.

One of the hookers chuckles at him as she eyes him up and down. She slink, yes, slinks close to him pressing up her bosom, which is pretty much falling out of her halter top, against his shoulder, she's pretty tall.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing in here?" She coos.

"Driving, driving without a valid license," he answers quickly and prays that she’ll leave him alone.

"Really? Not for soliciting?" She asks. Her eyes, once again, trailing down his body and now one long, red acrylic, nail trails down his arms. Patrick maybe wants to cry with hysterical laughter.

"Soliciting?" he parrots, he must have brain damage. Being in jail, apparently, diminishes ones brain cells.

"Yeah, with a mouth like that and those baby blue eyes; I'd say you'd make a pretty penny if you wanted," she says licking her lips in, what Patrick thinks is suppose to be, a seductive manner but just makes him cringe and wish he was ugly.

"Umm"

"I could be your first customer," she offers.

"Stump!" An officer appears at the cell door.

"Yes," Patrick replies in loud relief. The hooker pouts and moves away from him.

"One phone call," he says and opens the door to lead him out.

Patrick walks out and rushes the rest of the way when he feels his butt pinched. He looks behind him and one of the hobos winks, winks, at him.

He doesn't even think twice before he's dialing Pete's number. Pete picks up after the fourth ring.

"If you laugh I will kill you," Patrick says before Pete can even say hello.

"Patrick?" Patrick is so happy to hear Pete's voice that he just launches into his story.

He tells Pete why he got arrested, where he is and to come get him quickly because one of the hobos grabbed his ass and one of the hookers is offering him a street corner to solicit people and if Pete doesn't get here fast he will seriously consider the offer. Patrick is well aware he may sound a little hysterical but he’s allowed; he just got groped by an old man in a jail cell.

Patrick is surprised when Pete doesn't laugh just says he'll be there soon. Patrick blinks at the dial tone. He is escorted back to the cell, he goes reluctantly.

Pete is on the phone with his lawyers as soon as Patrick hangs up. It only takes five minutes of phone calls before bail for Patrick is arranged.

Pete calls Andy and Joe on his way to get Patrick.

"Wow, Wentz, you sure move quickly when the mood strikes you," Joe says once Pete tells him what happened and that as soon as he gets to the Police station Patrick will be released.

"Joe, this is Patrick. Patrick is a delicate flower and he is being forced to be in the company of hobos and hookers, who are offering him to work a street corner because of his pretty mouth!" Joe laughs on the other end of the line and laughs and laughs and laughs.

Pete glares at his phone before hanging up. Joe is a bad friend; he clearly doesn't understand the importance of protecting Patrick's virtue. Patrick is not to be debauched by anyone but him.

It takes about thirty minutes from the time Pete arrives at the station to the time Patrick is walking out with Pete following closely on his heels. Patrick puts his hat on as quickly as possible. He stops walking to just breathe in the fresh air but as soon as he stops Pete is plastered against his back.

"Patrick, tell me I'm not too late and that you’re not seriously considering a life of selling your body for pocket change?" Pete asks.

Patrick laughs and leans back a little enjoying Pete's solid form behind him.

"Not pocket change, according to Cherry.” That’s as far as Patrick gets before Pete interrupts him.

"Cherry?" Patrick can feel the frown on Pete's face.

"The hooker,” Patrick explains, “According to her, I could easily make three hundred bucks a night. The street corner she has in mind for me is apparently very well trafficked.”

Pete’s arms circle around Patrick’s waist pulling him even more against Pete. Pete nuzzles his neck, Patrick sighs.

“No,” Pete says.

“Got a better offer?” Patrick asks.

“Yeah me,” Pete says and chuckles against Patrick’s neck, the vibrations of his laughter tickle Patrick’s neck and he shivers.

“My Patrick did,” Pete trails off as he laughs again.

Turning in the circle of Pete’s arms is not easy since Pete seems reluctant to loosen his hold. When he’s finally facing Pete, Patrick glares at him. Pete laughs again before kissing him.

Patrick sighs against Pete’s lips and kisses him back. He shuffles closer to Pete wrapping his hands around Pete’s waist. Pete’s hands go to up to cradle Patrick’s face. They kiss for awhile before Pete breaks off the kiss.

Now that Patrick is out of danger, Pete feels it’s perfectly alright to make jokes. Patrick must sense this because he scrunches his nose prettily; Pete kisses the tip of his nose and smiles.

“Patrick, my Patrick did hard time,” Pete giggles like a little girl.

Patrick gives him an unimpressed look. “Speaking of hard.” Pete gasps and presses closer to Patrick, when Patrick palms his erection through his jeans.

Patrick is smiling with his eyes, biting his kiss swollen lips invitingly.

“Here’s a better offer for you,” Pete says a little breathlessly, “I take you home, lay you out on our bed, hands and knees, ass high in the air, so open and pretty just for me,” Pete whispers into Patrick’s ear, “Stretch you open with my mouth, get you wet the way you like it, then fuck you with my fingers until you start begging for my cock and then I’ll fuck you, hard and slow, until you forget Cherry’s offer,” the last he says with a bit of a sneer as he kissed just under Patrick’s jaw.

Pete feels Patrick hands tighten on his hips. He pulls back from Patrick’s neck to see that Patrick’s eyes are all pupil and his breath is coming more quickly. Patrick swallows visibly before licking his lips and asking, in that husky bedroom voice of his, “Cherry who?”

“Excellent,” Pete says and rushes Patrick into his car to take him home.

He’s slightly tempted to break the speed limit so that maybe he can get pulled over and do something stupid to get thrown in jail so he can give those hookers and the hobos a piece of his mind. However, Pete has priorities and his main priority right now is fucking Patrick until he forgets everything but Pete’s name.

Patrick, what!!!

2009-08-26T17:58:41Z

So apparently Patrick got arrested. I’m not gonna lie I laughed when I read this.

Patrick you are too cute ^__^ He gets arrested and he's more worried that his mom is going to be pissed. I love this dude to pieces!!

Also, I know this is a mug shot but he looks so hot. Just look at him, big blue eyes and lips *drool* and, and HATLESS!!! Everyone in bandom knows this is equal to half naked Patrick \o/

Oh dear lord, Patrick, how does one even forget their driver’s license when going to drive? I’m just going to spin this in my head as Patrick rushing to be with Pete for some sexytimes and therefore he forgot to grab his driver’s license. Yep that sounds about right ^__^ I have no shame \o/

Seriously, though, what a most riciculous thing to be arrested for. Poor Patrick. Now I want someone to write Pete feeling outraged and comforting his delicate flower Patrick, possibly with his dick or kisses, hey, I'm not picky :) Or maybe I'll just write it myself haha.

Blink-182 rocks out with their cocks out \o/

2009-08-22T01:32:33Z

So, last Saturday 8/15, I got to go see Blink-182 along with Fall Out Boy and Panic! at the Disco, it was awesome! And now here are a few pictures.

I didn't take any of Chester French because I wasn't there for most of their set, whoops! haha. Nah, they were okay, but not what I was there to see.

Panic! at the Disco were really good, I don't know if it was the place's accoustics or what but Brendon sounded fucking great as did all the other bands.

Brendon was so good. I did feel a little sad that Jon and Ryan weren't there but the guys looked like they were having a lot of fun so it was hard not to be upbeat and into their set :)

This is my favorite picture that I took *drools*

Here's another one of Brendon

I was able to take alot of pictures of Panic! becuase it was still light out but after that I had a realy hard time focusing my camera because of all the lights :(

So the rest of the pictures were kind of really crappy but for these two which are still kind of crappy.

Mark Hoppus \o/

And Some videos. I really hate how crappy the quality gets when you upload videos into these sites *sigh*

I really liked Panic's set even the part when Brendon dedicated New Perspective to his girlfriend Sarah (instead of to Megan Fox or naked dudes Lol) I thought that was sweet of him :)

Panic! at the Disco - But It's Better If You Do

A short clip of I Write Sins just cause Brendon was being cute XD

And then Fall Out Boy came out and they were so good. I love to see them live all the snark :)
Favorite moments were:

Pete calling Patrick cute and adorable and Patrick telling him to shut up haha
Andy Hurley saying "Fuck you and fuck the Bears" in freaking Chicago Illinois
Pete saying to Andy "dude that's like saying, fuck Mark Hoppus, right now"
Mark walking out after Pete says that and Pete calling for security. So funny.

Here's the video of the above bullet list :D

</div>
And then Fall Out Boy played their last live song in Chicago for awhile, according to Pete. That of course made me sad :(

Short clip of Saturday

</div>
And then Blink came out and for like the first 15min I forgot I had a camera in my hand /o\ God these guys were so unbeli'evably good, I don't even know what to say. Well, maybe I'll say that they totally take the cake for "stage gay" \o/

I love their bantering this one I call "Hug Time" :)

</div>

And here's the last one, this is I Miss You.

</div>

I have alot more clips but I didn't upload them all because of how crappy the videos become after I upload them; it makes me sad :(

I also have some of Travis's crazy drum solo but again the crappiness of the video doesn't do it justice. Anyway, it was a great concert I loved everything about it and I want to go see Blink again so they better make another album soon and start touring so I can go see them again :)</div></div>

Oh and did I mention that the show was SOLD OUT (30,000 ppl) and so it took us an hour and a half to get out of the PARKING LOT!! /o\ I didn't really mind so much but my sister has THE WORST road rage Lol good thing she wasn't the one driving. Oh good times!

a few of my most favorite things

2009-08-09T17:02:20Z

I am moody. I am moody/sulky and these are the only things that have been able to put a smile on my face right now.

</div>
Patrick!!! I love this video a ridiculous amount, I love that it centers around Patrick :) but it gives off these huge melancholic vibes and it makes me get all chocked up because stupid Pete has been saying weird things as if implying this may be their last album.   Panic splitting up was bad but I got over it, the day Fall Out Boy decides to stop making music I'm going to cry so hard.  I'm not even exagerating the level of drepressed I'm going to be. I'm just hoping i'm being paranoid and just reading too muc into things.

Moving on from the sad here are some more things that have been able to put a smile on my face.

Spencer's face \o/  There's been a shit load of pics of Bden and Spencer from the blink tour and they are awesome. I especially like this one because of his hand. Hello, pretty, pretty hand.

And this one; his eyes, gorgeous. I think that's all that need be said about that.

This picture, this pose, Jesus, it's smoking hot! so, I don't know who took this picture but thank you, thank you, thank you. Because seriously Spencer is like wine, he only gets better as he ages, no lie, this should be an icon or a banner.   The amount of time i have spent staring at this picture is seriously embarassing and coupled with this one of Brendon:

*___* boys in work office attire make me want to read/write a gugle amount of au office fics involving tight pants, ass staring, tie pulling, sex hair and rumpled suit jackets *drools*

And lastly this one. I've missed Brenodn playing the piano so this picture makes me smile :) and of course it doesn't hurt that he's freakin gorgeous.

And of course knowing I get to see them next Saturday puts a huge smile on my face :) Even though the "Chicago" show is actually in Tinley Park and two hours away and I've only heard horrible things about the venue, I don't care I'm still super excited \o/ and I can't wait, plus, for being in an aphitheatre I stll have pretty good seat, section: 104 row: H(8th) \o/ it's not the pit but at least i'll be able to see the stage without too much squinting.

i thought this would make me sad but it didn't

2009-07-30T01:50:01Z

So Spencer Smith just announced who will be, temporarily, filling in for the vacant spots in their band.

Meet Panic’s temporary(?) members

Ian <3 Crawford (formerly of The Cab) he’ll be playing guitar.

I personally love Ian and his wild hair not to mention he (and I’ve never used this term before) is sick on the guitar. Absolutely awesome!

Here's a little Ian solo action

And

On bass will be Dallon Weekes lead singer and songwriter of The Brobecks. I listened to some of their stuff and he has a nice voice.

This video is a live one the song is called "Love at First Sight" I just wated to get a better idea of their soung, but it's a good song.
The lyrics:
Could this be love at first sight, or should I walk by again?
You're photogenically dressed, the conversation begins.
Oh god, now what did I say? Let me start over again.

Could this be love at first sight, oh wait I said that before.
I need a place for the night, happy to sleep on the floor,
But don't go out of your way and I won't talk anymore.

Turn the lights off, I'm in love...
Wouldn't you like to, wouldn't you like to, kiss her?
Wouldn't you like to, wouldn't you like to, dance with her?
Darkened nights and violent things, vaudevillian girls and violin strings,
All of these are the prettiest things when I'm... in love...

Turn the lights off, I'm falling in love with you...
Wouldn't you like to, wouldn't you like to, kiss her?
Wouldn't you like to, wouldn't you like to, dance with her?
Dark, dark nights and violent things, vaudevillian girls and violin strings,
All of these are the prettiest things when I'm... in love...

I’m really excited to see/hear what they will sound like. For now, these guys are just filling in and that makes me really happy because I had this awful image in my head that Brendon and Spencer would go out on tour by themselves with like maybe a tech or two to fill in and things just be mechanical or I don't just not right. Now I’m glad to hear that these two guys are filling in.

Plus, who knows, maybe they'll get to keep Ian I'm down with Ian being in Panic! \o/ I, highly, doubt they'll keep this Dallen guy though, Imean the guy has his own band of which he's lead singer and songwriter; this would just spell trouble but anyway I hope this will be a good fit at least for the duration of the blink tour:)

stop there and let me correct it

2009-07-24T22:34:16Z

I'm in a super good mood. I don't know why but I'm not going to question it. I have Panic! at the Disco's new songs swirling in my head on infinite repeat maybe that's why I'm in a good mood idk.

I've been writing some stuff but it's not really going anywhere just for the fact that I don't want anyone to read them which is sooo stupid /o\

So, I haven't been writing as much as I would like and since all I've done is study for my boards there's a lot of free time there.

And so since I've been bored out of my skull I made this a few days ago and decided to put it up now, just for kicks and also because Spencer looks like he's having a blast banging on those drums :D

See, gorgeous!!!

</div>

i went to a fall out boy concert and all i got was my concert virginity taken \o/

2009-05-10T17:19:29Z

So after a hectic week where in I slept a comulative amount of six hours, I had three tests, one final, two final projects due, one oral presentation to give, one care plan(if you don't know what a care plan is you life is good), one metal health status evaluation to turn in, and clinicals at 4:30am, I finally got some reprieve on Friday afternoon once I got back from the hospital with gramps (he’s fine we were there for a routine-procedure type of thing).

So, Friday I took my baby brother who’s 14 btw to see Star Trek. I used to watch Star Trek the original series when I was little on reruns, I think at the time I was too young to understand the story line I just remembter liking it because I thought it was cool if there really were other planets with weird inhabitants, plus the whole beaming people places was pretty kick-ass too, I know I was doomed to be a geek from babyhood XD

I’ve never really gotten the urge to watch any of the new ST shows I catch reruns here and there and I find that I still like the original series a lot, I’ll always love Kirk and Spock they’re awesome not to mention I love Bones too. Anyway I didn’t have any preconceived notions about the movie and I’m not enough of a fan to know every nuance of their universe so having said that I liked the movie. Keep in mind that, though, I’m a tomboy at heart, I don’t like all action movies there isn’t enough money in the world to get me to sit through any of the Fast and Furious movies or Die Hard, Jesus no. But I liked this Star Trek movie and I’m just going to leave it at that.

And then of course all the suffering I endured last week was all made better by going to my fist Fall Out Boy concert *squee* I also lost my concert virginity \o/ When we were waiting in line to get in me and my sister were just staring at all the teenies dressed like a reflux of the 80’s ankle warmers and neon shoes, shirts, shorts (it was cold btw), headbands and hoodies ,along with a bunch of scene-esque dressed kids and my sister said “I have never felt so out of place for looking normal.” To which of course I just laughed and agreed.

Hey Monday were up first and they were good, I like them but I don’t know all their songs.

Metro Station, eh, I like Mason a lot but collectively as a band they’re okay.

All Time Low were so much fun there was a beach ball floating around and it ended up on stage and I think Jack picked it up and he’s like:

“I wanna be pregnant” and he’s trying to fit this huge beach ball into his tiny, tiny shirt

LOL and then he’s like;

“I had the baby, I’m wanna kick the baby” and he kicked the beach ball back into the crowd. LOL they just did a lot of bantering with the crowd so it was fun.

Cobra star Ship came on and everyone was, like, on. My sister had never heard any of their music and she liked them a lot, just goes to show the awesome power of the cobra :D Any way Cobra Start Ship were awesome like always.

And then finally Fall Out Boy came on and it was amazing! It was honestly the best thing ever. And they looked so tiny I wanted to put them in my pocket and take them home :D It was so much fun getting to see them play and sing and to sing along with them at the top of my lungs and jump up and down, it was magical. So, now I’m sore my legs hurt from all the jumping and my throat and jaw; are SORE. So sore, like I gave the best blow job e’ver and it was so worth it, too :D

Patrick said a few words I remember him saying “Hi, I’m Patrick” and then the rest was drowned out with my yelling and the guy in front of me was just like o.O ahhahaha I think I may have scared the people within a ten foot radius of me, I was screaming that loudly. My sister was like “Wow! you know, since you’re in love with this guy I only find it weird that you’re not yelling for him to marry you.” To which I told her not to tempt me :D

It was funny too ‘cause my sister was sitting next to this guy who was there with his kid and she’s screaming and singing to all the Fall Out Boy songs and the guy kept, like, rubbing his ear because she was so loud and I just kept laughing, because, hello, it’s a concert; there’s going to be yelling duh!

And then there was Petrick where they leaned into each other during Grand Theft Autumn and the waltz-esque dancing was adorable and why can’t I haz a Patrick /o\ The only thing that made me feel bad for them is that they try raise political awareness to a bunch of kids, who the which majority, weren’t even old enough to drive themselves there let alone understand the standing of the world. But I’ll give Pete props he tries and who knows maybe some kids will get it.

My only regret is that I didn’t get good pictures. I didn’t want to take my camera because I am a clumsy, clumsy person, I trip on flat ground clumsy so ,with my luck, I probably would have dropped my camera and broken the damn thing and that would have been bad that puppy was a pretty penny.

So I took a few camera phone pics and seriously, to the people at BlackBerry; you need to work on developing a better camera for you phone, but it doesn’t matter though, I still had a blast and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world not even good pictures.

I also realize that concert are addictive, as soon as we got out I was like okay who can we so see next and my sister is like “I know just how you feel.” In conclusion I love FOB they were awesome live, their energy was contagious, the pyrotechnics were amazing and I want to have Patrick’s babies LOL (if I wanted to have children that is)

a semi-bitching week

2009-04-17T04:06:44Z

So my stupid brothers and my sister went to the Cubs game today and gave my ticket to my cousin 'cause I had to stay home because attend my stupid clinicals. Though, I shouldn't say that because I had an awesome clinical week.

I'm currently in my med-surg rotation and so I got to go to Interventional Radiology. I saw a lot of interesting procedures that no one I know, except for my clinical group and myself, find kick-ass and bitching-awesome. I also got to wear this interesting shindig

It's a lead skirt and a lead vest, they use them to protect themselves against radiation. Which you know I don't really believe helps you much if you work with radiation agents on a daily basis. The techs, nursses and Drs wear these little button things that are suppose to tell them if they are being exposed too much *shrugs* IDK. What I do know is that I'm not going into radiology.

Anyway though super cute (mine was a flower patter blue and gree color) they are heavy as fuck. My shoulders are sore, I felt like Goku in the Gravity chamber training under 500 times gravity *geek!moment* haha, but alas no super saiyan came from it :P just sore shoulders.

Also, one of the guy techs was wearing a lead apron like this one but in a zebra pattern. All I could think was, wow! you would, kind of, make a bad drag queen. I swear i only laughed a little :)

So, yeah my week was pretty awesome but for the Cubs-lessness , am soooo sad about that. But I'm definitely going to see them in September 'cause my sister is determined to have her first alcoholic drink, erm, her first legal alcoholic drink at Wrigley Field *shrug*

On a different note I love the baseball I love the Cubs and I'm, completely, insufferable during baseball season, so I try not to make dump posts on how much I love the Cubs and how I totally have a hypothetical boner for
Ryan Theriot, sooo hot!!

And Mike Fontenot also soooo hot!! I have a mojor boner for these two because 1) They are awesome baseball players. AWESOME!! and 2) They LOOK like boys!! 3)They are fucking hot!!! XD *ded*

On left is Ryan Theriot(#2, plays short stop) and on right is Mike Fontenot(#17, plays second base) high-fiving. Slashing these two would be so incredible the internet would explode.

Here they are agian. Fontenot is little but he is like mitochondria; a little fucking power house. Just look at that jump. This is the caption for this pic "Mike Fontenot leaps as he throws to first to complete a double play after getting the feed from Ryan Theriot to force out Seattle's Jose Guillen." See writting slash would be so easy 'cause they have to be all telepathic and get each other to make awesome plays like this one, just hearts. Sadly, enough, I am not the person to write Ryan/Mike slash, because the Awesome!baseball playing gets in the way *fail*

I'll just settle for watching the games and looking at pictures like this one. That's little Mike Fontenot he is wee and little, juxtapose D. Lee :) In his defense Fontenot is 5'8" and D. Lee is 6'5" a giant in comparison.

And here is Mike again getting a piggy-back from Carlos Zombrano (#38, pitcher) who carries him effortlessly because Mike is little and pocket sized \o/

Here they are again, these two like to joke around quite a bit. LOL, so adorable.

Wow look at all those Cubs pics sry. Here have this one to make it better. See Jon's shirt, he's a Cubs fan too \o/ I Love you Jon Walker. Poor Jon, I send random updates about the Cubs' games to his twitter /o\ Though I try to limit myself to three tweets per game, see I'm ttly sane, right ^__^

Oh and what i mean about liking Mike Fontenot and Ryan Theriot because they look like boys. Let me explain, you see this picture of Jon, Jon LOOKS like a boy *drools* that's what I mean. Erm, no offense to the other pretty memebers of panic. Ryan should grow his hair out again, it looks really good like that.

Okay end of my totally random post. I hope I didn't scare anyone with the, almost, Cubs picspam :)

snippet: ryan ross and the attack of the post-office!kid

2009-03-27T23:38:58Z

So one time,

fleurdelisee , made an entry on her Lj in which she posted this entry from Ryan's twitter \o/ and

she said:

fleurdelisee Does the thought of Ryan interacting with kids make anyone else flail and die or is it just me who's odd?

To which I made a comment that led to a couple more comments

cardel LOL!! Yes the thought of Ryan Rossy interacting with children is sooo funny. He’s probably like; there’s a little kid talking to me, how do I make it stop? Does it have an off button? It should come with an off button or at least mute. Lol

fleurdelisee Which side do I hold it? Does it come with an instruction manual? Oh my god, it talks? How come it's able to talk?

cardel Oh man /o\ this just made an awesome scene in my head. I think I may have written a Ryan and post-office!kid snippet. I shall post it shortly :D

And thus this happened (putting it under a cut so as not to torture my f-list xD)

Title: Ryan Ross And The Attack Of The Post Office Kid
Rating: G
Pairing: Ryden if you squint really hard :D
Summary: Ryan goes to the post office and meets a leg-breaking kid.
Word Count: 1215
Disclaimer: Not mine and this is just a work of fiction

The kid is lost that much Ryan knows, but why is it looking at him.

“One time I broke my sister’s leg. I can break anyone’s leg if I kick hard enough,” the kid says, matter-of –fact, as he scuffs his red sneakers into the tile beneath his feet.

Ryan looks around the post office and wonders if the kid is getting ready to kick him. He also wonders if self-defense against a four year old would hold up in court. Pete might know; Pete knows random things like that.

The kid sighs and looks up at Ryan. The kid cocks his head to the side and squints his eyes. Ryan shifts his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortably, because this kid looks like it’s contemplating if he can take him. The kid probably can.

“Umm,” Ryan says and he’s the lyricist of his band. Damn it, he should be more articulate than this.

“I don’t know where my Mommy is?” the kid admits. It looks up and Ryan can see it has big blue eyes and it’s wearing a shirt with a picture of a car so he’s going to assume it’s a boy. He’s been calling the kid an it, in his head and it’s starting to make him feel bad.

“Umm,” Again where are the words when he needs them. Why is this kid talking to him? Aren’t parents supposed to teach kids not to talk to strangers or something? At that age, Ryan sure as hell wouldn’t have talked to any stranger in the post office if he was lost. Actually he wouldn’t even have gotten lost.

Now that he thinks about it that’s probably a miracle. He was, kind of, a spacey kid when he was around this kids age, but Spencer always made sure to hold his hand when they went out. Now he feels bad for this kid who is mommy-less and Spencer-less.

“Can you help me find my Mommy?” The kid asks his voice is so tiny and squeaky. His eyes are huge and bright, his bottom lip sticking out in a shaky pout. Ryan knows that look, that’s the same look Brendon gives him when Ryan tells him he can’t eat ice-cream in their bed.

He takes a step back; the kid follows. Ryan can just imagine how this looks from an outsider point of view, a grown-ass man flinching away from a four year old. In his defense this kid has broken someone’s leg before what’s to stop him from doing it again. At least when he was four, the worse thing Ryan did was put glue in Sarah Carter’s hair, but only because she, unapologetically, broke Spencer’s favorite train and made him cry.

“Mister!” It snaps Ryan out of his flashback. He startles and looks down at the kid who is now tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“I don’t know where your mom is,” Ryan says and the squeak that came out of his mouth, he will deny to the day he dies.

“Duh, but you’re an adult. You’re supposed to help me find her,” the kid says reasonably.

“Haven’t your parents taught you not to talk to strangers?” Ryan asks.

“Yes, but I know you. You’re.” The kid pauses, lets go of Ryan’s shirt and starts shouting, “Ryan Ross! oh my God!” The kid squeals and starts jumping up and down pumping his tiny fist in the air.

Ryan’s eyes widen in horror; he takes a step back. This kid has got to be bipolar or maybe he has ADHD with a, heavy, emphasis on the hyperactiveness. Also probably, like, the anti-Christ or something, because it knows his name. Yes, Ryan will, guiltlessly, fall back to calling it, an it, if his anti-Christ theory is right.

“Why do you know my name?” Ryan asks. He wishes now that he had seen how the Omen ended, that way he’d know what’s in store for him.

The kid stops jumping and looks up at Ryan again and says, “My sister has pictures of you on the walls of her room, she knows you,” he says and nods as if his logic is without fault.

Well at least, the kid is not the anti-Christ, just the unfortunate brother of one of their fans.

“You’re sister? The one who’s leg you broke?” Ryan asks.

The kid, actually, looks ashamed. He bows his head and gives a little nod. “It was an accident,” he says his voice small and regretful.

Ryan sighs, “Fine, let’s go find your mom,” Ryan gives in because, despite it all, he is an adult and he can’t just leave this kid in the middle of the post office. He wonders if the post office has a lost and found. Do they take kids at the lost and found? Or is that strictly for inanimate objects? He’s sure he wasn’t this much trouble when he was a kid.

Ryan starts walking and stops when he hears a loud; “Hey!” He turns to the sound of the voice, which belongs to the little kid.

The kid hasn’t moved from his spot. Ryan rolls his eyes and walks back to him; he wonders what the problem is now.

The kid looks up at him, little hands on his waist, brows furrowed, bottom lip jutting out in a pout; he stares, furiously, up at Ryan. If Ryan didn’t know he could break legs he would, probably, find it completely adorable. As it is, Ryan approaches him as if the kid is contagious or about to grow another head; he’s not letting his anti-Christ theory go just yet.

“What?” Ryan asks impatiently.

“You’re supposed to hold my hand so I don’t get lost again,” he says stomping, actually, fucking stomping his little, leg- breaking, feet on the floor.

“Oh my God! I swear any future offspring of mine better come with a manual,” he mumbles under his breath.

The kid ignores him and holds his hand up. Ryan stares at the hand; small, tiny fingers outstretched, waiting, waiting, trusting. Ryan looks at the kid and something in his chest constricts painfully. Was he ever this innocent, this trusting? He doesn’t think so, aside from his mom and dad, Spencer and Spencer’s family; he didn’t trust anyone.

This kid shouldn’t put that much trust in strangers; it’s going to end up disappointing him one of these days. Today won’t be that day, though.

“What’s your name kid?” Ryan asks, as if just remembering, that, oh yeah, kids do, actually, come with names.

“Aiden,” the kid, Aiden, replies. His hand is still outstretched and waiting.

Ryan sighs. “Alright Aiden, lets go find your mom.”

Aiden gives him a huge smile, all his, tiny, little milk teeth showing. Ryan finds himself smiling back; he takes Aiden’s hand. Aiden immediately curls his hand around, what his little fingers, can reach of Ryan’s hand.

They start walking together; Aiden swings their hands and starts skipping to keep up with Ryan’s longer legs. He launches into a story about how; one time on the playground swings, he swung so high he almost made it all the way around.

Ryan looks down at him. Yeah; one day, the world is going to disappoint this kid. Today is definitely not that day.

ah hahahaha I am the most random person I swear /o\

it's moments like this that make me wish i had an off button :/

2009-03-20T18:28:57Z

Wow!! I am hyper. I don’t drink coffee; I like it I just don’t, like, need it to function at 4:30am or anything. That is to say I don’t seek it out but I do drink it on occasions and when I do, I water it down. Meaning I fill my cup with 2/3 coffee and I add 1/3 water aaaaand then I add lots of sugar until it tastes like candy :)

So, just now, I drank two cups of coffee in a row. What was I thinking? Needless to say I am HYPER!!!!

HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER

Today is the first day of Spring \o/ and it’s like 20°F outside and crazy windy :( So much for that. So anyway I’m like twitchy and my heartbeat is ridiculously fast right now and I’m thirsty and pretty soon I’m gonna need to use the bathroom ‘cause coffee is a diuretic (makes you pee)

Oh my God this is a dumb post /o\

Okay here’s to making this post less dumb.

This is Keith Olbermann he’s my boyfriend, errr, my brain boyfriend. I LOVE YOU KEITH!!!

Umm yeah in a nutshell or eight minutes.

And

This is my girlfriend, errr, my brain girlfriend Rachel Maddow. Rachel is smart and funny and I totally have a girl-crush on her ♥_♥

I don't watch much t.v. 'cause school SUCKS THE LIFE out of me, but I watch Rachel, and Keith religiously.

MMM My house smells good, I think my mom is making breaded fish or some type of sea creature, 'cause it's Friday, catholics *shrug*

Okay, I think this is enough for this weird post, especially 'cause there's this one add on the right side of my post box of this lady who's just staring at me o_O it's starting to freak me out.

fic: freaky friday (pete/patrick) and my 100!!!!! POST

2009-03-12T15:07:56Z

Title: Freaky Friday
Author: cardel
Rating: R
Paring: Pete/Patrick
Summary: AU in which Pete and Patrick switch bodies; awesomeness esues, that’s all I got.
Word Count: 6755
Disclaimer: So not mine and this is just a work of fiction
Beta: desireem81 , who made this a million times better. Any remaining mystakes are my own.
A/N: Written for yet another prompt at anon_lovefest seriously I think I have a problem /o\

Things like this don’t really happen, except in cheesy teen movies where the protagonists are suppose to learn some great life lesson on taking people for granted and realizing that walking in the other person’s shoes is not as easy as they may have believed. This isn’t a movie and Pete isn’t Lindsay Lohan and Patrick isn’t Jamie Lee Curtis, yet here they are.

They stare at each other having a kind of standoff in the middle of the kitchenette on the bus. Patrick is surprised he hasn’t run out screaming bloody murder; he’s not sure if he should feel proud or sad that this is probably not the weirdest thing that has happened to him since he met Pete.

“I don’t know how this happened,” Patrick says and stops to frown because his voice is just weird. He shakes his head and continues, “but I’m sure it’s your fault.”

“Dude, why is it always me?” Pete asks but he has Patrick’s voice. Pete is Patrick and he wants to run into a room with a lock and not come out until he jerks off for a good three hours until he categorizes all the noises this awesome mouth makes. He’s sure Patrick would castrate him if he did, so he settles for singing.

“Stop that. It’s weird,” Patrick says crossing his arms. Seeing the tattooed arms from this angle is starting to freak him out so he uncrosses his arms.

“Okay, I think I’m going to freak out now,” Patrick states calmly even though he so isn’t.

“No, hey, remember this happened to Butcher and Sisky two weeks ago and they totally switched back to normal in, like, two days, so we just have to wait it out,” Pete says and hopes Patrick doesn’t throw a tantrum and starts throwing shit, because, to him, he got the best end of the deal.

“Fine, whatever, but if we don’t change back, you’re going to have a hell of a time explaining to people why you have become so boring,” Patrick warns.

For his part, Pete just looks confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not going to become you if we get stuck like this. No more stage diving, no more tattoos, no more kissing other boys,” Pete’s surprised gasp, or Patrick’s really, rings out.

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Pete is covering his own mouth with Patrick’s hand and it is the first time they have touched since their bodies went all freaky Friday on them. It’s such a bizarre feeling that they flinch apart almost immediately.

“Wow, that’s really strange,” Patrick says reaching up to take his hat off and run his hand through his hair. He’s startled when there is no brim to reach for; there is nothing to get in the way of running his hand through his hair and that makes him feel oddly vulnerable. Before he even thinks about what he’s doing; he’s reaching back for Pete’s ever present hoodie and pulls the hood over his head.

When he realizes what he’s done, it’s too late and he reluctantly looks over at Pete, who is giving him an adoring smile. He knows it’s adoring because that’s the look he used to give Anna before things went down the gutter. That look shouldn’t make him feel anything yet this body just gave a happy flutter in his stomach, but he could be wrong Pete could just be hungry.

“Stop making my face do that,” he mumbles.

“Dude, it’s going to be awesome being you, I’m going to go sing-“

“No, no Spice Girls, no ‘Nsync, no Backstreet Boys, no Pussycat Dolls and oh my God, NO Kelis,” Patrick nearly screeches imagining his voice spewing out that Kelis song and it would be that song because that’s the only song that Pete knows; he would never live down the humiliation.

“You know what, better yet, make it no songs written after the 90’s unless it’s ours, obviously.” Pete doesn’t even look sad; he just grins. Patrick never knew his face could look that scary. Pete starts singing Sinatra’s, “Almost Like Being In Love.”

Pete is just starting the song when Patrick decides to tell him to shut it. This is also the moment Andy and Joe decide to walk into the bus.

They stop in their tracks and turn confused looks at Patrick in Pete’s body.

“I, honestly, never thought I’d live to see the day you’d tell Patrick not to sing,” Andy says slowly as if he’s afraid.

Joe nods in agreement. Patrick sighs, Pete laughs merrily, and wow, he has a really nice laugh. Patrick shakes his head; this experience is turning him into a narcissist.

“So,” Pete starts, “remember TAI’s “Incident” two weeks ago?” Yes they called it the “Incident” in quotation marks and all because Bill is all for the dramatics. It doesn’t help that he’s been spending an unhealthy amount of time with Gabe.

His band mates don’t need further explanation, before they double over in laughter. Patrick hates his band.

“You laugh now but if this happens to you two, no more weed Thro-man and you can kiss your veganism good-bye Andrew Hurley,” Patrick says viciously and yeah, Patrick is totally proud of the viciousness Pete’s voice gives to the threat. Andy and Joe stop laughing.

Patrick kind of loves Pete a lot right now, this very second, nano-second actually, because he’s not sure what will happen in the next second.

“Okay, then what do we do?” Joe asks, plopping down to sit in the booth in the kitchenette. Andy sits next to him.

“Umm, we wait,” says Pete, who is now adjusting Patrick’s beret hat while looking in the shinny surface of the toaster.

Patrick walks up to him and slaps his hands away. “Stop it. That is not a toy.” He hears a noise that sounds like stifled laughter but when he turns to glare at Andy and Joe; they are the very picture of innocence.

“Patrick, I want to wear a different hat for every hour I’m you,” Pete says excitedly his face, or Patrick’s face, lit up with glee.

This time the laughter isn’t stifled at all; Joe and Andy are cackling like mad leaning over each other for support.

“Oh my God, his face,” Joe chokes out between laughter. Patrick really hates his band.

“Pete, I don’t even have enough hats to attempt what you want to do,” Patrick says deciding to ignore the cackling hyenas behind him.

“Okay, this is all well and dandy but we have a show in two days,” Andy says wiping tears of mirth from his face.

Patrick sighs, “What can we do but wait it out?”

“And if you don’t change back?” asks Joe, who is looking at Pete, who has hopped onto the counter and is swinging his legs back and forth.

“Look at how cute my legs are,” Pete announces, staring intently at Patrick’s legs as they swing back and forth.

In this second Patrick really hates Pete for not taking this as seriously as he should because what if they do get stuck this way.

“If we don’t change back,” Patrick starts, “then Pete is going to become a very good bassist and a very boring person and Patrick.”

“Is going to become an attention whore and a slut,” Andy supplies.

“Hey!” Pete and Patrick say in unison. Pete stares at Patrick; he has stopped swinging his feet and his face is serious so Patrick gives him his full attention.

“We’ll change back ‘Trick, trust me.” And that’s the thing Patrick does, blindly, since the day they met.

Being Pete is not easy. If this is the lesson he was suppose to learn; well the cosmos can go fuck themselves because he already knew that. He’s the guy’s best friends for fuck’s sakes; if anyone knows being Pete isn’t easy, it’s him.

Pete and his emotional baggage, however, is not the reason it is not easy being him. No. That honor goes to his brain and the body he is currently occupying. It’s like his mind is still his, he has all his memories from childhood until present time and he can still write music and that’s about it. Even though, he has his own mind, this body has its own muscle memory. This body doesn’t need glasses, which is good, but this body wants to be in constant motion. It wants to be awake all the time. It also has this strange involuntary reflex of reaching out for Patrick’s body whenever Patrick’s body is within arm’s reach and even when it’s not which he just files away as a Pete thing.

All those quirks he can live with, he can deal with the medication regime, and the weird habits. He can deal with all of that; he can ignore and bear with it because it’s temporary. What he cannot not do, is cope with the fact that Pete’s body completely refuses to play bass, good bass, and absolutely goes blank when holding his guitar. So Patrick is sitting on the floor in the bunk area, the hoodie of Pete’s sweatshirt pulled up over his head so far that he can hardly see anything, pouting like a five year old at his abandoned guitar and his numb fingers.

When he realized Pete’s clumsy fingers could not play for shit, he was convinced he could teach this body to play good. Unfortunately, he also forgot that nonstop practice resulted in, what feels like, bleeding fingers. Now he can’t play anymore guitar because his fingers feel like they’re going to fall off.

Also, Pete’s body is thrumming with pent up energy that playing guitar for two hours straight did nothing to alleviate. Patrick feels if he doesn’t do something soon he’s going to explode. With a sigh, he gets up from the floor and goes looking for Pete to find a solution.

Pete is sitting on the couch in the back lounge, squinting at the T.V. he’s squinting because he is not wearing glasses.

“Pete,” did you lose my glasses, is at the tip of his tongue but what he says is, “I feel weird.” He fidgets; fists his hands and buries them in the pockets of his hoodie. His shoulders go up to his ears, he’s so tense he feels a light breeze might snap him.

Pete looks up and cocks his head to the side, considering. “Did you take my pills?” Patrick nods and it’s strange how the sound of his voice causes this body to start relaxing; he can feel his shoulder muscles loosen.

“Okay, come here,” Pete beckons him and without further thought Patrick goes to him.

He’s not sure if it’s him or this body that automatically goes to lie down, pillowing his head on Pete’s thighs. Pete hums and runs a hand though his hair.

“You washed my hair,” he states before letting out a low chuckle. The sound makes Patrick feel warm. Safe. He thinks.

“Yeah sorry about that,” Patrick says with no hint of remorse in his voice.

“Dude you totally saw my goodies.”

“Pete everyone in the internet and their grandma has seen your goodies.” Patrick hopes Pete will leave it at that because he’s not quite ready to talk about what that experience had made him feel. Yeah, he’s man enough to admit, at least to himself, that the feelings of arousal he had felt when he was touching Pete’s body, while he was showering, were all his. Which, being turned on by Pete, is nothing new to him but Pete doesn’t need to know that.

For a second, it looks like Pete is going to keep going but shrugs it off and grins down at him. Patrick feels himself relax even more, but the thrumming in his body is still very much present.

“Pete,” he says, fidgeting again but he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for.

“Yeah, okay.” Pete can’t sing for shit, but Patrick can. So when Pete starts singing it’s a shock to Patrick, to this body, which goes taut, alert, before it just starts relaxing. Patrick takes a deep breath and listens.

“And I saw God cry in the reflection of my enemies.” Pete sings. Patrick closes his eyes and concentrates on the wave of calm his voice brings to Pete’s body.

It is such a strange experience to be able to listen to himself through someone else’s ears. He hears the candor of his voice, the rise and fall of notes, the perfect pitch, the soft rumble that he knows comes from deep within his chest and Pete’s body loves it. His muscles relax, his breathing evens out and the thrumming energy he felt ebbs off his body leaving him feeling loose, relaxed with a lazy smile on his lips.

“And pray they don’t grow up to be.” By the time Pete finishes the last note, Patrick is so relaxed; he feels like he could fall asleep forever. He looks up and Pete is already looking at him with that same adoring smile as before.

That’s when realization hits him. He sits up slowly and swings his legs over the couch to sit properly. He turns his body towards Pete, giving him a serious look.

“This, this is how you feel?” Pete’s expression is blank. Patrick takes a second to feel resentful; he’s sure he could never get his own face to do that.

“What I mean is, when you call me at two o’clock in the morning and bug the shit out of me to sing to you, this is what it does to you? It helps you relax? And you’re not just being,“ he pauses looking for the right word and there is a reason he’s not the lyricist.

“A douche-bag,” Pete supplies helpfully.

“Well, yeah,” Patrick says his voice small, afraid of the answer.

“Yeah,” Pete admits.

“I make you feel this.” It’s a statement that Patrick is glad he doesn’t need to explain because he’s not even sure where to even begin.

“Yeah,” Pete says, but he’s not looking at Patrick. He’s staring at this hands, which are folded in his lap, his shoulders up to his ear, his entire frame hunched into itself. It doesn’t matter that Pete is in Patrick’s body. The pose screams of anguish so loudly that Patrick can’t help it when he crawls into his own lap and wraps Pete’s arms around himself and again that feeling of safe washes over him.

It’s overwhelming in the most flattering sense, because, wow, wow, he makes Pete feel this. He makes Pete feel safe, calm, happy. Pete trusts him, trusts him to set him right when not even his medication can. Patrick knows this but to actually experience; it leaves him in awe. He is in awe at the level of trust Pete has in him.

“Thank you,” for trusting me goes unsaid “and I’m sorry for not always understanding,” Patrick whispers and pulls back enough to kiss his own cheek and fights off the weirdness of feeling his soft, slightly cool skin with Pete’s lips. Pete only nods not asking for further explanation and tightens his own hold.

For a moment Patrick wishes he was in his own body, so he could hold Pete and feel the tension drain out him and know that he’s the reason. He settles for closing his eyes and pretending.

The following night they have an impromptu show for about two hundred people, which they all forgot about until the bus is pulling into the venue. Patrick, surprisingly, is not freaking out but Pete is, which seriously, can’t win them all.

“What are you so nervous about? You know all the lyrics and we already figured out that my body can play with muscle memory,” Patrick says.

“Yeah, but Patrick what if I suck and then people will think you suck and if I hear anyone say anything about ‘why does Patrick suck live?’ I’m going to punch some faces and then I’m going to get thrown in jail and look at this mouth, it’s just asking for trouble, I’m going to end up someone’s bitch,” Pete finishes and worries his bottom lip with his teeth.

Patrick laughs; Pete gives him a hurt look. Still chuckling, he walks up to Pete, takes his face in his hands and touches their foreheads together their eyes locking. It’s different than looking in the mirror because even though he’s staring at his own eyes, he can see a trace of Pete in there; it’s comforting.

“You’re going to be great, you’re not going to punch anyone and you’re not going to get my body thrown in jail to become someone’s bitch, okay.” Pete takes a deep breath and relaxes.

“Okay.”

“Whoa, did you two switch back already?” Joe asks walking in their dressing room.

“No,” Patrick answers pulling away to grab Pete’s bass.

“Hmm, must be a Pete thing then.”

Patrick frowns. “What is?” he asks.

“That touching you thing.” When Patrick just gives him a confused look Joe hmm’s and tries to elaborate. “Like, you know how your body can play through muscle memory, and muscle memory comes through repetitive motion of an action and so you’re in Pete’s body but Pete’s muscle memory probably consists of “oh there’s Patrick, touch” so you probably can’t help but like reach out and touch your own body all the time.”

“Are you high, Joe?” Pete asks loudly. Patrick turns to look at him because he makes that high pitched squeak when he’s nervous.

“No! Okay, yeah a little,” he admits.

“Joe!” Patrick turns to glare at Joe, but this isn’t a new occurrence so he doesn’t waste his breath.

“Okay guys we need you on stage now,” says a tech popping his head in before leaving just as quickly.

Patrick grabs Pete’s bass and walks out and has no more time to think about what Joe said. Joe maybe high, but his words ring true. Pete’s body has an automatic reaction of reaching out for Patrick’s body when it’s near. Patrick wonders why that is.

Too soon, they’re on stage high fiving before he turns and realizes he’s on stage and people are screaming his name and their energy is so palpable it hits him. No not him, it hits Pete’s body by surprise. It makes him feel a knee-jerk reaction and he takes an involuntary step back.

Well, shit, Patrick knows that Pete is not bull shitting people when he tells them he’s shy, he is. All these people shouting for him is a little overwhelming especially because it’s a small crowd compare to the stadiums where they usually play. The people are closer, louder somehow and it makes Pete’s body feel claustrophobic and tenses immediately; his breathing speeds up and his hands start sweating like crazy.

He looks over at Pete, because he is shocked that after all these years Pete still feels this way. Pete, however, is looking down at the guitar around his neck, barely grazing his thumb through all the strings, almost, as if willing it to have four. Patrick tries to take deep breaths but it’s not working.

The show starts and he says a few awkward words to the crowd. It’s a good thing the kids are already so pumped, that it doesn’t matter what he says they scream back and cheer loudly. Andy starts off the beat and they start playing Sugar.

“Am I more than you bargained for-“His voice bellows over the roar of the crowd and that’s all it takes for Pete’s body to relax.

He takes a deep relieved breath, smiles and the crowd goes wild. He should have known. He looks over at Pete and Joe was so right because as soon as he looks over Pete’s body screams, touch, touch, touch and the closer he gets to his own body, the happier Pete’s body feels.

There is energy running through Pete’s body and he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch his body so he can feel what he’s feeling right now. He wonders if this is why Pete always touches him during shows, if it’s an attempt to transfer this amazing, euphoric, energy onto Patrick and make him feel life in their music.

Patrick feels the life in their music when he’s writing it, when Pete’s words fit perfectly, when they play things for the first time in the studio and it’s raw and imperfect but after a few tries the songs come alive and it’s them and it’s everything, it’s life. When he plays live it feels mechanical, trying to make his voice last and not mess up any notes, never has it felt like this.

Next thing he knows he’s presses up against his back and Pete’s body sighs and shivers happily and he spends the rest of the show there, where he feels whole, where he feels the life of the music.

After the show, he feels like he’s riding a high, everything is brighter, sharper, louder but not in a bad way. Pete’s body is still thrumming with energy but he recognizes it as the adrenaline high after a show.

“Why didn’t you tell me you still get nervous?” Patrick asks Pete as soon as he can.

Andy looks over at Pete, “Really because I thought that was an awesome show.”

“It was,” Joe agrees stepping into the dressing room running a towel over his sweaty face. “At least now we know if you don’t switch back we won’t be fucked.”

“Thanks Joe glad to know you’re looking out for our best interest,” Patrick deadpans and turns to look back at Pete, who shrugs.

“I don’t. I usually do some rituals to help me before we play, but I was too busy freaking out about singing that I forgot to tell you,” Pete explains. Patrick feels like there is more to that but he’s not sure how to ask.

“Rituals? All you do before a show is throw yourself at Dirty or drape yourself all over Patrick,” Andy says.

“Yeah, well, you know, release pent up energy, it helps.” There’s too much commotion going on back stage and in their dressing room to have a proper conversation so Patrick lets it go.

Soon they’re being escorted into cars and driven to a hotel, where Joe and Andy wordlessly room together, leaving Patrick and Pete to share a room. They ride up the elevator in silence and as soon as they get to their room, Pete heads for the bathroom.

“You are a sweaty little fucker, Patrick Stump,” he says before closing the bathroom door.

Patrick sighs, he has no comeback because it’s true. It’s still early but Patrick is tired. They have to drive out early in the morning so they can get to their next venue. He wonders if he’s going to be able to sleep tonight. He rummages through Pete’s bag and pulls out the clothes Pete had put in there earlier and waits for Pete to come out.

Once Pete gets out of the shower, Patrick starts to head in but not before giving the blush his face is sporting a considerate look; too hot water he thinks and dismisses the thought. No, that looks kind of like the blush he gets when he, his eyes go wide. He ducks his head and rushes into the bathroom because he really, really doesn’t need to think about what Pete may have been doing to his body in the shower.

He takes the fastest, most unproductive shower in the history of showers ever taken. He keeps his eyes closed the entire time and washes methodically, doing math problems in his head. At one point, he almost falls on his face when the floor gets too slippery with the soap suds, but his eyes remain close.

He dresses in the same way and only opens his eyes when he pulls the soft fabric of Pete’s pajama bottoms over his hips. The shirt he pulls over is an old Green Day’s shirt that he thought he had lost. He shakes his head and thinks about Pete’s unhealthy klepto tendencies, to distract himself from the warm feeling he gets over the thought of Pete wearing one if shirt to bed.

When he steps into the room, Pete is already sitting on one of the beds, legs crossed Indian style. He’s frowning and as soon as Patrick steps further into the room he huffs.

“We have a show tomorrow,” he states. Patrick doesn’t say anything because he already knows this.

“We’re playing in front of a lot of people and if we don’t switch back I think I’m seriously going to freak out if I have to sing in front of that many people,” Pete says seriously.

“Yeah, I have no idea what that feels like,” Patrick teases trying to lighten the mood. Pete does not laugh.

Patrick worries his lip and walks closer to the bed then he sits in front of Pete. “Okay, this is a very real possibility, so is there anything that will help you with this or are we going to have to cancel?” Patrick asks.

Pete sighs. “I don’t want to cancel. Could we, could I maybe sing through the songs and you tell me where I’m screwing up your voice and how to make your voice sound like, well, you,” Pete huffs again and turns pleading eyes on him.

Patrick wants to laugh at the look on his face, but he doesn’t want to be an asshole. So he nods and scoots closer to Pete until their knees are touching and he tells himself that it’s Pete’s body that needs this closeness.

“Okay start singing,” Patrick orders.

Pete looks to be contemplating before he launches into I’m Like A Lawyer. Patrick listens and everything is going fine until it’s not.

“I only keep myself this sick in the head ‘cause I know how the words get you.” Pete’s body starts feeling strange.

“Pete,” Patrick tries, because this feeling, it’s different than the relaxed feeling Pete’s body gets when the sound of Patrick’s voice reaches his ears. This is a different kind of feeling, it’s intense, arousing.

“We're the new face of failure,” Pete sings looking straight at him.

Patrick swallows, shifts, his eyes go wide because that’s a fucking erection. He’s getting hard from listening to his voice or Pete’s body is getting hard from hearing his voice and having that look directed at him. He feels Pete’s body sway forward in an attempt to get closer; he bites his lip to keep a moan from escaping.

“Prettier and younger but not any better off. Bullet proof loneliness. At best, at best.”

His breathing is coming faster now, and all he wants to do is press close, close until his body is enveloped in that sound that brings this body such pleasure. Now, now there is a tight feeling in his lower abdomen; he clenches his hands into the blankets beneath his hands and recognizes the vague feeling of an oncoming orgasm.

“Me and you setting in a honeymoon,” Pete sings on.

Pete’s body is about to come to the sound of his voice and there’s nothing he can do to stop it and to be honest with himself he doesn’t really want to. In some deep recess of his mind, he is shocked that he can do this to Pete. He had no idea.

“If I woke up next to you, if I woke up next to you.”

“Oh my god,” Patrick moans out helplessly as Pete’s body shudders and he comes so hard he closes his eyes. An orgasm in someone else’s body feels more intense because it’s new and strange in a really, really good way.

When he finally opens his eyes Pete is looking at him with a mixture of awe and embarrassment. “Umm, yeah, that kind of happens. I kind of learned how to stop doing that a while ago, though, I guess you weren’t really prepared?”

“Oh my God,” is all that Patrick can say.

“Patrick, Patrick don’t freak out,” Pete pleads earnestly.

“I just kind of really, really like you and your voice and your lips and your cranky attitude in the morning and the way you bitch people out but all calmly and the way you get me like no one else does and just, you,” Pete says in a rushed breath.

“What?” Patrick asks confused because he’s still stuck in the, I just came to the sound of my voice and Pete likes me.

“And I think you might feel the same way, because this body does interesting things when that body shows some skin or gets very close,” Pete says and he’s trying to sound confident but Patrick can still hear the uncertainty in his voice.

The puzzle pieces have finally clicked in Patrick’s head and he can now see the full picture and he wants to bang his head against a hard surface for being an idiot. Pete likes him and he likes Pete and if that thought didn’t just make him feel like a giant twelve year old girl, he would voice his thoughts.

“Oh yeah, how do you know that’s not your normal narcissism,” Patrick counters deciding to tease Pete a little.

“Yeah I thought about that,” Pete says honestly, “but I normally only get a boner when I look at you not when I look at myself.”

“I can’t help it! You practically walk around in clothes two sizes too small, showing skin all over the place and throwing yourself at me. Oh my God.” Patrick says realizing what he just said. He buries his face in his hands because seriously they are such idiots. He also takes a second to think how unfair it is that Pete, apparently, doesn’t blush.

“Patrick you love me!” Pete throws Patrick’s arms around his body and they fall back on the bed.

“I may be minimally attracted to you,” Patrick admits, using Pete’s hands to go up around his waist where his shirt has ridden up and he is touching his own skin; it’s warm.

“Lets have sex,” Pete announces.

“No Pete, that’d be. No, just. No,” Patrick is firm in this because that would be so weird, it wouldn’t even be like masturbating. It would be like having sex with himself and he wants to touch Pete’s body with his own hands and feel Pete’s hands on his own body. He is not budging on this. Pete must see this because he amends.

“Okay how about you jerk me off, or that body off and I’ll do yours.”

“Okay.” No sooner are the words out of his mouth then Pete is pulling him up shedding clothing everywhere.

They sit facing each other sitting on their calves, legs apart, Patrick thinks this should be weirder then it feels but it’s really not. Pete looks over at him before taking Patrick’s cock into his hand. He lets out a low moan and closes his eyes.

Yeah, like this, Patrick may be able to appreciate all the comments about his mouth; it really does look indecent. Pete has bitten his lips so hard that his lips are red and swollen and the way his skin is flushed. Yeah, he can maybe see how he’s aesthetically pleasing to some people and this body seems to appreciate it, a lot.

He bites his lip before reaching down to touch Pete’s cock and it’s like having an orgasm in Pete’s body all over again. It’s new and strange and completely thrilling. Pete’s hand is rough but it feels good and it’s that whole muscle memory thing taking over again because his wrist is moving in ways he doesn’t move his own.

Pete seems to like a quick, rough up stroke and a slow teasing down stroke and yeah, it feels really nice; he files the information away for later use. He licks his lips and thinks about these hands on his body, about his hands on this body. He opens his eyes and Pete is staring at him with want, and it’s strange because Pete is looking at his own body but Patrick knows the want in his eyes is for the person currently occupying it.

“Patrick, tell me what you like, tell me what you’re feeling, tell me what you want,” Pete says, his voice is breathless and rough. Pete’s body reacts immediately to it, tension coiling low in his abdomen.

“I, I want to feel your hands on me, I want you to feel my hands on you, I want to watch you and know I’m the one making you feel like this,” Patrick moans.

“Yeah, I want that. I want to run my hands through your body and make you feel like there is nothing else but my touch. Patrick, I need to touch you so much.” Pete’s voice is almost a whine.

It’s seems like a synchronized move when they rise to their knees at the same time and lean into each other. Patrick sways into Pete wanting to be near the body that makes him feel this good. He takes a deep breath and his own scent bombards his nostrils and it’s a battle of senses. Patrick knows this is what he smells like, feels like, sounds like but to this body it’s all new and it wants, wants, wants.

Without further thought, he turns his head and kisses his own lips. It feels like déjà vu. He is kissing his own lips and he can feel them soft and pliant under Pete’s and it’s like he’s experiencing it through two bodies. Pete’s body urges him to press closer and he wants to drown in this body in this taste. He feels dizzy, the need for air becomes second to this feeling of being where he belongs.

They have stopped jerking off in favor of holding each other. Pete pushes his tongue into his mouth and any feelings of “I’m making out with myself” get overruled, immediately, by the overwhelming want of Pete’s body.

This is completely new to Pete’s body. He’s experiencing this through Pete’s body, which wants so much and so intensely that he can’t help but press closer and kiss deeper. Now he can’t tell which taste is his and which taste is Pete’s. It’s a heady feeling, intoxicating, dizzying and he never wants to stop feeling, never wants to take another breath if it means he’ll stop feeling this.

Just when Patrick thinks he’s going to pass out from lack of oxygen; he feels a rush of emotion so strong that he has to close his eyes and pull back to gasps from the intensity. His body sways a little but there is a hand on his neck and another on his waist keeping him steady.

Slowly he registers the feel of a rough hand on his neck and a lean body pressing into his and foreign lips on his neck. He opens his eyes and he’s staring back at Pete. Pete is where he belongs back in his own body.

Patrick blinks rapidly; he has no idea what just happened. The only thing that is registering in his head is Pete is touching me, I’m touching Pete. He smiles.

Pete smiles back; it’s a nice smile. Patrick has a whole second to appreciate that smile before Pete is leaning forward kissing his lips again. Yes, this is what he wants and it’s all so different now. Pete’s body pressed into his own, his lips on his, kissing him desperately as if he believes he’s going to disappear but now he knows better; he knows Pete just needs to get closer and so does he.

They fall back on the bed. The weight of Pete’s body pressing him into the mattress is reassuring. Patrick opens his legs so that they are pressed even closer together. His erection rubs against Pete’s stomach and he can feel Pete’s own erection on his inner thigh.

Patrick grinds his hips up. A moan from Pete breaks their kiss. Pete is looking down at him pupils blown, breath coming out harsh and desperate.

“Oh, God, I want you so much,” Pete says breathlessly and leans down to kiss Patrick’s neck. Patrick groans; his hands go to Pete’s hips urging him down, to press harder and faster to create more friction.

One time long ago, shortly after recording their first album, Pete had told Patrick he wanted to crawl into his skin. Patrick now understands that feeling. He wants to press into Pete, move with his body, until their breaths, movements and heartbeats synchronize so perfectly it would be like they’re one person.

“Pete,” Patrick cries because this moment is so perfect. Pete touching him and him touching Pete. Their bodies moving with perfect counterpoint pressure and it’s almost enough but not quite yet.

“Pete,” Patrick says again and this time pulls Pete up to kiss him again. Pete complies; Patrick feels Pete’s body lift briefly but before he can protest he feels Pete’s hand taking both their cocks in hand. Patrick’s breath hitches and he moans into the kiss, that’s almost perfect, he thinks.

He reaches down to help Pete and together they work out a rhythm and soon they’re no longer kissing merely sharing the same air, eyes locked, bodies tumbling blindly towards orgasm. A few more strokes and Patrick feels the familiarity of his own oncoming orgasm. What’s more arousing, he recognizes the tension in Pete’s body as his own orgasm.

Patrick remembers what it felt like to come in Pete’s body; the tight tensing in his abdominal muscles, the aching feeling in his cock before he exploded with pleasure. The memory sends him over the edge at the same time Pete tenses above him. Their strokes falter and they come, seconds apart.

It feels so good; better than any orgasm Patrick has had in a long time; this tight coiling feeling until it snaps and he’s coming into Pete’s hand, his hand already covered in Pete’s come. Their bodies arch towards each other one last time in a desperate attempt to share this intense euphoric feeling.

The room is silent but for the harsh exhale and inhale of breaths. Pete has collapsed on top of Patrick his nose nuzzling his neck, his mouth nipping lightly followed by a lick and then a gentle kiss. It tickles and Patrick giggles.

Pete pulls back to look down at Patrick, he gives him an awed look. Patrick blushes, running a hand from Pete’s shoulder down to his wrist where he holds him loosely. He is so emotionally and physically tired. His eyes start to droop but he fights it in favor of watching Pete.

Pete smiles down at him, moves to spoon behind him and works a corner of the sheets to cover them both. “Sleep,” he whispers into Patrick’s ear. Patrick fights it for a few minutes but soon enough he loses the battle. He lets his body lean back into Pete’s; it feels like home.

Patrick wakes up to lips on his shoulder and a hand caressing his hip.

“You with me sleeping beauty?” Patrick smiles.

“So what’s the lesson this was suppose to teach us?” Patrick asks curious to hear what Pete has to say.

“That we’re idiots and it took being in each other’s skin to realize we, really, really like each other,” Pete says accentuating his action by grinding his half hard erection into Patrick’s ass.

Patrick hmm’s and pushes back. The hand Pete has on Patrick's hip tightens.

“Patrick Stump, don’t start something you can’t finish,” Pete whispers into the shell of Patrick’s ear, which makes Patrick shiver and push back into Pete again. Finding a reason for their freaky Friday is forgotten.

“When have I ever started something I don’t finish,” Patrick replies turning around to kiss Pete.

Later when news reaches Gabe and Bill about Pete announcing, to anyone with ears, that Patrick is his boyfriend and no one better even look. They both smile and snuggle together on the couch they’re sitting at.

“See I told you the Cobra would take care of those two idiots just like it did for Sisky and Butcher,” Gabe state gleefully.

“I guess,” Bill answers. “Though, I honestly thought that not even the Cobra could help dumb and dumber.”

“Never doubt the Cobra,” Gabe says wisely.

fic: taste the rainbow (pete/patrick)

2009-03-07T06:20:50Z

Title: Taste The Rainbow
Paring: Pete/Patrick
Rating: PG
Summary: Pete wants to taste the rainbow.
Word Count: 1616
Disclaimer: So not mine and this is just a work of fiction
A/N: Written for a prompt over at anon_lovefest I love that community, it's crazy fun. Also this is, like, fluffy really, really fluffy. IDEK /o\

Pete’s doctor has decided to change his medication dose and as it is when they change his dose, be it to increase it or decrease it, the first days are always a bitch because his body has to get used to the new dose. Sometimes he doesn’t react well to the medication change and either gets really lethargic or becomes more of an insomniac, if that’s even possible.

Patrick takes all this into consideration every time he agrees to stay with Pete the first few days after his medication change. Pete tries to tell Patrick that he should just move in, they practically live together anyway. Patrick, however, feels reluctant. Pete is right, they do practically live together; Patrick spends maybe two days a week at his place and when he does Pete is there with him.

Patrick knows it’s only a matter of time before he gives in and moves in with Pete but he’s not quite ready yet. Part of it is because they fight, a lot, and Patrick has a tendency to storm off and drive home to be alone until he calms down, which he sometimes feels stupid about since he’s not gone for an hour when he starts missing Pete’s stupid laugh and too warm body next to his.

Pete laughs and Patrick turns to look at him. It’s already one am and Pete is watching season one of Robot Chicken on his lap-top and shows no signs of sleepiness but Patrick decides it’s not a side effect of his medicine just Pete’s normal insomnia.

“What?” Pete asks when he catches Patrick looking at him. Patrick shakes his head; Pete shrugs, pops a handful of Skittles into his mouth and turns back to his screen.

Unlike Pete, Patrick’s eyes are drooping so he shuts down his own lap-top and places it on the night-side table. He turns back to Pete.

“I’m going to sleep,” he says. Pete turns to him and nods. “Wake me up if you start you know,” Patrick says waving his hand around not wanting to say “if you start feeling fucked up.” Pete, however, knows what he’s trying to say.

And Pete has never had a truly bad reaction but Patrick isn’t willing to take the chance that Pete may have a bad reaction and he won’t be able to help. This time, however, Pete seems to be taking his med change in stride, he’s a little restless in bed but he always is so Patrick doesn’t think anything of it.

“Patrick you love me,” Pete says his voice giddy and he pops another handful of Skittles into his mouth.

Patrick rolls his eyes but smiles. “Turn that down a little,” he says pointing to the lap-top.

“I’ll do you one better,” Pete says and pulls out his head phones and slips the ear buds into his ears. Patrick smiles and kisses Pete’s cheek in thanks. Pete beams, huge teeth and all, before leaning over to lick Patrick’s cheek.

“Oh gross!” Pete laughs loudly, so Patrick makes a show of wiping his face before pulling the covers up and turning to his side.

Pete’s annoying snickers, as he tries to muffle his laugh, eventually become background noise and Patrick falls asleep.

Patrick wakes up to an insistent poking on his side. He swats his hands in the direction of the offender and hits nothing but air.

“Patrick, Patrick. I can’t taste it,” Pete whispers. He’s kneeling on the bed next to Patrick but as soon as he sees Patrick’s eyes flutter open he moves to straddle him, Patrick does not appreciate that at all and groans in protest.

Somehow, Pete’s statement slowly trickles into Patrick’s mind, repeats in bold, underlined letters and prompts him to wakefulness in the span of one second. He looks up at Pete, who is bouncing slightly on the bed and is shaking a little. Patrick bites his lips and wonders how badly Pete is reacting to his medication change.

“You can’t taste what Pete?” Patrick asks slowly and calmly, even though he wants to freak out and rush Pete to the emergency room this very second because Pete has never lost his sense of taste from a bad med reaction.

Pete leans down, nuzzles Patrick’s neck before whispering again, “the rainbow.” He licks Patrick’s neck and makes a satisfied noise before pulling back a little just enough so that his nose almost brushes Patrick’s.

And that’s when Patrick smells the fruity sweetness of Pete’s breath. He looks around and relaxes before tensing again as he tries to count, in vain, the empty Skittle bags around them.

“Pete how many bags of Skittle have you eaten?” Patrick asks. Pete huffs and pulls back, sitting on Patrick’s thighs.

“Not enough, I couldn’t taste the rainbow.” Patrick almost smiles at Pete’s pout. Patrick feels himself relax, he’s glad Pete’s not having a bad reaction to his medication. Patrick can, however, recognize the slight high Pete’s medication is giving him by the slightly glossed over look in Pete’s eyes. But, mostly, Pete is just really hyped up on candy.

“Patrick I want to taste the rainbow,” Pete whines. Patrick rolls his eyes, now that he knows he won’t have to take Pete to the emergency room he can begin to deal with a hyper Pete.

“Pete you do know that Skittle won’t really-“And that’s as far as he gets before Pete leans down and kisses him.

The kiss is sweet, literally, he can taste cherry and strawberry and a hint of sour lemon and hidden beneath the flavors of the rainbow is a taste that is uniquely Pete’s. Patrick’s hands go to Pete’s hips and he arches up into the kiss, trying to lick the candy taste away because the hint of Pete’s taste is not enough.

“You taste good,” Pete says between kisses. Patrick just kisses him harder still searching for that Pete taste that is sharp and bitter sweet and every time Patrick gets a taste of it he pulls Pete closer.

So, Patrick kisses Pete, and kisses him and kisses him and somewhere along the line Patrick loses his shirt and kisses on lips turn into Pete kissing his neck lazily until Patrick recognizes Pete’s kisses are sleepy kisses instead of teasing kisses.

Patrick tugs on Pete’s shirt to pull him up and seriously how is it that he’s always the one who ends up losing his clothes first. Patrick has given up on trying to figure that out. Pete gives Patrick’s collar bone one last kiss before pulling up to look down at Patrick.

The smile that Pete gives Patrick is sleepy and dopey and so fucking sweet that Patrick is sure he’s getting cavities from it, but he still can’t help but return. “Mmm Patrick Stump, I knew you’d taste like the rainbow,” Pete says in a low voice as if he’s telling Patrick a secret.

“Oh yeah and what does a rainbow taste like?” Patrick asks, reaching up to gently brush back a lock of hair from Pete’s eyes. Pete smiles and leans down to lick Patrick’s lips; one, twice, it kind of tickles a little.

Pete pulls back. “Like magic and happy,” he answers his face serious, which is ruined by the jaw popping yawn that follows. Patrick laughs.

Pete scoots down and tucks his head beneath Patrick’s chin. Patrick holds him loosely, sneaking his hands beneath Pete’s shirt and running his hands gently up and down.

Pete gives a content sigh and says, “I almost wish I could bottle you and share you with the world but I won’t because I’m selfish and you’re my Patrick. My own awesome rainbow of happiness and the pot of gold at the end and the leprechaun all in one.”

“Are you calling me short?” Patrick asks trying to hold back laughter.

“I’m calling you magic,” Pete says confidently.

“Oh my God, you’re insane,” Patrick says but there is nothing but fondness in his voice and he thinks he may be a little insane too for being so in love with this crazy person.

“Insanely in love,” Pete giggles.

“Okay, new rule no more sweets for you before bed,” Patrick states. Pete just burrows closer as if wanting to crawl into Patrick’s skin, which Patrick knows he actually wants to do because Pete has told him as much.

“Patrick, shh less talky more sleepy,” Pete demands. “Tomorrow, though, or when we wake up, we can totally go get married and then you can, officially, be my nagging wife and make crazy rules that I’ll try to follow but end up breaking and then I’ll make up for it with lots of sex.”

Patrick laughs, his chest shakes with how hard he’s laughing that Pete gets dislodged from his spot on top of Patrick. He doesn’t seem to mind and just scoots closer to Patrick throwing his arm across Patrick’s chest.

“First you call me a leprechaun and now you’re insinuating I’m girly or maybe that I’m Queeny and we both know who the real Queen in this relationship is. So, why do I have to be the wife?” Patrick finally manages to ask.

“Pretty,” Pete replies his voice sleepy and tired, “Pretty, so pretty and perfect and magic and sweet and taste like the rainbow; better than Skittles.” He mumbles a few more words before he’s soundly asleep.

Patrick smiles and he looks over at the lamp and knows there’s no way he’ll be able to get Pete to let go enough so he can reach over and turn it off. He sighs, kisses Pete’s forehead, closes his eyes and lets the rhythm of Pete’s, even, breathing pattern lull him to sleep.

fic: if wishes were school girl uniforms, patrick would be wearing one

2009-01-16T23:46:05Z

Title: If Wishes Were School Girl Uniforms, Patrick Would Be Wearing One
Author: cardel
Rating: Very NC-17
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Summary: While recording their new album Patrick gets everyone on his wish list of artists. Well, Pete has a list of his own and the only person in it is Patrick. Soooo A/U
Word Count: 3047
Disclaimer: So not mine and this is just a work of fiction
Warning: Crossdressing (idk is that warning material?)
A/N: Written for kittygrenade based on our little Folie a Deux moment as well as on an interview where Patrick said, regarding Folie a Deux, something along the lines of “I had a wish list and I got everyone in it” this is not a direct quote and if anyone has links to this please share.

xposted to bandslashmania and patrickxpeter</lj>

“Patrick,” Pete says in a whispered breath.

“So I found your wish list,” Patrick says from his place on top of the kitchen table.

His words snap Pete to attention. His wish list, fuck. His wish list consists of nothing but his biggest fantasies, in vivid detail, describing how much he would love to see Patrick in various outfits. But his wish list has always been secret because Pete has always been sure that if Patrick knew about it, he would cut him off for a week.

Pete has accepted this as fact. Pete has, in fact, resigned himself to having a totally vanilla sex life with Patrick, and doesn’t care much because. Patrick. Apparently, though, he has been wrong, so, so wrong.

“Patrick,” he says again because, he feels like he has forgotten how to say anything. And his mouth’s muscle memory only seems to remember how to move his lips around to form the word Patrick, this doesn’t surprise him.

Patrick is ignoring Pete’s ability to say one word and continues speaking. “You got me everyone on my wish list. I figured it’s only fair that you get something from your wish list.”

This explains what Patrick is wearing. And Pete cannot believe that, out of all the options on his wish list, Patrick chose the one he wants the most; the school girl uniform. Patrick looks amazing.

Pete lets his eyes rake over Patrick’s body. He starts at the bottom from the red, mary-jane’s, up to the, mid thigh, stockings which are a dark navy blue, the skin above standing in stark contrast to the dark color. Pete wants to bite the skin there.

There is a good five inches of exposed skin where the stockings end and the skirt, a red plaid, begins, this makes Pete think about how short the skirt must be. Pete is sure if Patrick were standing it would barely cover anything and if Patrick were to bend over -- Fuck, Pete wants to see that.

That’s when he decides he’s too far away from Patrick. He walks into the room and stops in front of Patrick, not touching, yet. He stares some more drinking in the sight before him. Patrick patiently lets him.

The shirt isn’t that remarkable; white button down. Patrick has, however, undone the top three buttons and pushed the shirt opened. Pete can see his collar bone, he wants to lick. His gaze shifts up to Patrick’s gorgeous face and his breath catches a little. Patrick is wearing makeup.

According to Patrick, he can’t pull off eyeliner, but Pete knows he is wrong, so wrong. The eyeliner around his eyes is done carefully and with enough of a smudge to turn Patrick’s, already captivating, eyes into smoky, hypnotic ones.

Pete’s eyes moves to Patrick’s mouth. Patrick isn’t wearing lipstick which is good. School girls don’t wear lipstick; it smears and leaves evidence, good slutty school girls would know that and apparently so does Patrick. Patrick is wearing lip gloss, with a light hint of pink pigment, making Patrick’s natural pout more pronounced. Plus it’s Patrick’s mouth so Pete just stares until he hears Patrick talk.

“So you like it?” Patrick asks.

“Are you serious?” Pete says, “I love it.”

To prove his point he steps closer to Patrick who lets his legs fall open to accommodate Pete between them. Patrick tilts his head up; Pete kisses him tasting cherry before he pushes his tongue inside twisting around Patrick’s trying to taste every part of his mouth.

Pete’s hands go to the small of Patrick’s back; he pulls him closer pressing Patrick right up against him.

“Patrick bedroom,” Pete says between kisses.

‘No. Here.” Patrick counters.

Pete hesitates for a second, because he has issues about having sex on surfaces where they eat. Patrick chooses that moment to grind against him.

Against the erection in his jeans, that has been there, trapped and straining since he first laid eyes on Patrick atop the kitchen table in a school girl uniform. And oh my god, he has Patrick on the table in a school girl uniform, his biggest fantasy ever and he’s about to protest? What is wrong with him?

Patrick rolls his hips again and Pete thinks, screw it; he’ll buy another table. In fact he’ll find a way to have this one framed and hang it in their bedroom to commemorate this event.

“Yeah, here’s good,” he finally agrees. He takes a small step back and smiles. “You look so fucking hot.”

In response, Patrick pulls him in for another kiss, which Pete thinks may also be a ploy to hide the growing blush on his face. Pete lets it go.

Pete kisses Patrick, his hands undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt, once he’s done, he kisses Patrick’s jaw down to his neck, trails kisses to his right collar bone and then across to his left one.

Pete pushes the shirt open; he bends down and takes one of Patrick’s pink nipple into his mouth. Patrick’s response is immediate; his hands fly up to Pete’s head, his fingers thread into his hair, and his whole body presses forward. Pete smiles around the nipple. He’s still amazed by how responsive Patrick is. It’s like his skin is hypersensitive to Pete’s touch.

He moves to the other nipple and he feels Patrick’s chest start to rise faster with every breath.

Pulling back he runs his hands from the side of Patrick’s abdomen up over his sensitive nipples. He smirks as Patrick shudders and bites his lips muffling a moan. Pete leans forward and pulls the lip between his own teeth.

“Don’t,” he mumbles, kissing Patrick.

“I want to hear everything.” He pulls back and watches Patrick nod.

His hands continue up and over Patrick’s shoulders taking the shirt with him as he goes down Patrick’s arms, until it pools around Patrick’s wrist. Patrick takes one arm out and then the other and carelessly tosses the shirt on the floor. Pete does the same tossing his shirt over his shoulder.

Patrick scoots closer to the edge and leans forward to bite Pete’s collar bone, his neck, he takes Pete’s earlobe between his lips, pulls back, licks behind his ear. These little, kitten –like, licks that make Pete shiver. He pulls Patrick against him again.

Patrick’s erection is pressing against his thigh; he looks down and sees the little skirt is tenting. Pete wants to see if his theory about how short the skirt is, is true.

“Patrick stand.”

With one last, tiny, kiss to Pete’s neck Patrick hops down. Pete doesn’t move back to give him room, which results in being presses chest to chest, thigh to thigh. Patrick raises a brown in question. Pete smiles in return.

When he takes a step back he can see that the skirt is indeed that short. He touches the hem of the too short skirt and wonders what that fells like for Patrick. Having the slightly rough material brush up against his thighs.

“Pete,” Patrick says almost a question.

Pete makes a little turn motion with his hand, Patrick does. He gets distracted by the expanse of Patrick’s back and leans down to lick a long stripe, from the small of Patrick’s back to a spot between his shoulder blades.

This makes Patrick’s back curve in, which makes his ass push back. Reminding Pete that, oh yeah, he has a theory to prove. He looks down and sees that he was right about this too; he can see the little round mound where Patrick’s thighs meet his butt cheeks. Wait, he can see Patrick’s ass.

Placing a hand on Patrick’s back he pushes, Patrick takes the hint and bends over the table his arms stretched out before him. The motion makes the skirt ride up even more, Pete swallows. He grabs the hem of the skirt and with one motion flips it over Patrick’s back and god Patrick isn’t wearing anything underneath.

“Going commando?” His voice is rough, his mouth so dry he’s surprised the words don’t get stuck in his throat.

“Short notice. I’ll do better next time,” Patrick promises.

Pete just groans his brain is barely working enough to convince him that this time is real let alone be able to understand the concept of a next time; it makes him feel light headed.

Instead he concentrates on now. Right now he wants to touch Patrick and hear how much he likes it.

He drops down to his knees, with one hand to Patrick’s back motioning him to bend lower. Patrick does dropping down to his forearms. Pete places a kiss to either side of Patrick’s butt cheeks. He feels Patrick tense, this isn’t one of Patrick’s favorite things but Pete knows when Patrick gets into it he’ll just make all these desperate, needy, sounds.

Pete spreads Patrick’s cheeks and licks his lips before leaning forward and licking one long firm stroke from the skin behind Patrick’s balls up and over his hole. Patrick takes in a sharp breath.

“Pete.” It’s so broken and needy that Pete does it again and again, each time lingering a little more around Patrick’s entrance, until Patrick gets impatient and pushes his hips back.

“Come on” he says.

Pete smirks adjust his hold spreading Patrick open a little more and pushes the tip of his tongue right up against Patrick and pushes in. Patrick stills above him. Pete repeats the motion again going in further each time until he can hear Patrick panting and his legs shake with the effort to not push back into Pete’s face.

With one last lick Pete pulls back, takes his index finger into his mouth, coats it with saliva before pushing it into Patrick. He watches amazed as his finger disappears into Patrick, from the tip of his finger to the second knuckle until it’s all the way in.

Slowly he pulls his finger half way out and then pushes in again until there is no resistance and Patrick’s hole, willingly, swallows his finger. Patrick is squirming above him pushing his hips back.

“Fuck, Patrick I wish you could see this,” Pete says still fucking Patrick with his finger.

“Lube,” Patrick groans out. And yeah, lube’s a good idea because saliva dries out too fast.

Pete stands up. He runs his hands up from Patrick’s hips to his back where he takes the skirt and flips it down again. He grabs the zipper and pulls it down. Patrick closes his wide stance and the skirt falls slowly, over his hips and slides down to pool at this feet. Pete knows he’s going to jerk off to that for long time.

Patrick steps out the skirt and the shoes, but when his hands go to the stockings Pete’s hands are right there, stopping him.

“Leave them,” Pete whispers low in Patrick’s ear. Patrick leans back against him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Patrick turns and sits back on the table spreading his legs for Pete, who quickly steps between them. With his left hand he cups Patrick’s face and kisses him. His right hand goes to Patrick’s cock; already leaking precome, and swipes his thumb over the head. Patrick moans, pulls back and scoots further up the table, Pete climbs up after him.

Patrick settles down, spreading his legs again, Pete crawls up to him and bends down to kiss Patrick's thighs. He takes Patrick’s cock in one hand and without warning takes the head in his mouth for one quick, hard suck.

The scream Patrick lets out is very satisfactory. Patrick is already bucking up wanting more but Pete’s mouth is already gone.

“God, you’re beautiful like this,” Pete whispers hoarsely.

“Fucking, cocktease,” Patrick accuses him.

“No, cocktease, is that time you made me watch you finger yourself for one hour and threatened no sex if I touched you before you said it was okay.”

Patrick gets a glazed look over his eyes. “Yeah but wasn’t it great when you finally got to fuck me?”

That actually, had been pretty amazing, the anticipation had nearly killed him but when he was finally pushing into Patrick, who was so stretched by that point, there was no resistance and Pete got to fuck him into next week. But he’s not going to let Patrick know that right this second.

“The point is, you’re the cocktease. I’m too impatient, all about instant gratification. I already can’t wait,” Pete confesses.

“Then why are you?” Patrick asks. He grabs a bottle of lube, that must have been there the whole time but who would look at a bottle of lube when they can watch Patrick. Pete accepts the bottle, coats his fingers and leaves the bottle within reach. He spread Patrick’s legs a little more and works a finger in.

It’s quick; Patrick is already a little stretched from the rimming and fingering earlier. Pete adds another finger and curls them searching for Patrick’s sweet spot. He knows he found it when he feels Patrick tighten around his fingers and his eyes open wide before closing and from his mouth comes a melodic moan of pleasure.

By the time he works a third finger in Patrick is already working to make a rhythm, pushing down onto Pete’s fingers. Patrick lifts his head up a little and frowns in confusion.

“Why are you still wearing pants?” He asks.

That is a really good question. Pete pulls his fingers out and sits back but he doesn’t want to bother with taking his pants off so he just pushes them down, boxers and all, around his thighs. He reaches for the lube squirts some on his hand and spreads it over his cock, it feels really good but not as good as Patrick will.

He guides the head of his cock into Patrick and pushes in. Patrick’s breath hitches and he holds still.

Pete wipes the extra lube on his pants, leans down placing one hand on each side of Patrick’s head, right above his shoulders, caging him in with his body. Patrick’s lips stretch into a smile, Pete leans down to kiss him as he pushes the rest of the way in with one slow continuous motion.

Patrick’s moans are swallowed into Pete’s mouth. Pete only pulls back when he’s all the way in. He sees that Patrick has his eyes closed his breath is coming in slowly as he tries to relax his body.

There’s nothing more that Pete wants then to fuck Patrick through the table but he waits patiently bending down to kiss Patrick again.

“Okay,” Patrick says, finally.

Pete doesn’t wait any more he starts thrusting hard into Patrick, who’s mouth falls open and he starts making all these amazing sounds that just egg Pete on, to thrust in harder and faster.

When Patrick opens his eyes they lock with Pete’s. Pete falters for one seconds as those blown, lust filled, eyes stare back at him. Patrick brings one hand up and holds it in front of Pete’s face, his lips never asking but his eyes are begging.

Lucky for him Pete knows exactly what he wants. He licks Patrick’s palm, taking each finger into his mouth sucking them in and coating them with saliva. Patrick moans and bites his lips. With his hand sufficiently slick he reaches down and starts to stroke himself.

Pete looks down, he is torn between wanting to sit back and watch his cock disappear into Patrick while Patrick jerks himself off or staying where he is and watching Patrick’s face.

The moan that comes out of Patrick when Pete hits his prostate, Pete assumes by the clenching around his cock, makes that decision for him. He stays where he is and watches Patrick. Patrick watches back.

He lowers himself a little bit so he can feel Patrick’s knuckles on his abdomen as he jerks off. And he’s now thrusting so hard he’s sure there’ll be bruises on Patrick’s shoulders where they’re bumping into Pete’s lower forearms.

Pete thinks about that, about Patrick’s shoulders being tender and Patrick shivering with pleasure at the memory of why they’re tender, when Pete reminds him by placing a hand there.

That image, along with Patrick’s moans and the tight heat surrounding him, make him come, hard inside of Patrick.

Fuck and Patrick are the only words he manages to choke out as his entire body shakes and he slams one last time into Patrick. His arms are shaking with the effort of holding himself up so he closes his eyes and bends his head down his forehead touching Patrick’s chin and he lets his orgasm wash over him.

Vaguely he feels Patrick still beneath him and warm liquid coating his stomach. And somewhere far off, he hears something that may be his name fall from Patrick’s lips but he can hardly hear anything but the fast pounding of his heart in his ears.

It’s ten minutes later when they’re able to move that they start walking to their bedroom. However, half way there, the living room to be precise, Pete decides the bedroom is too far, so he rolls over the back of the couch taking Patrick with him to land on the other side.

Patrick is too tired to protest and just lets Pete manhandle him. He’s lying half on top of Pete, his head on Pete’s chest, drifting off when he feels Pete’s hand trail down his back and to his ass. He feels Pete use one hand to spread him open, one finger teases his entrance and Patrick knows he’s rubbing the come that’s still there. Pete is such a possessive bastard; lucky for him Patrick’s too tired to protest.

That is until he feels that finger try to push in.

“Pete,” Patrick mumbles but the warning is clear in his tone.

Pete sighs and says, “Fine.” Like a scolded toddler.

“Hey Patrick.” This time his voice is serious, so Patrick makes the effort to lift his head from Pete’s chest.

“What is it?” Patrick asks.

“We’re buying a new table,” Pete says his face dead serious. There’s a tiny pause and then Patrick’s throwing his head back, laughing the sound rich and loud making Pete feel warm inside and a smile to appear on his lips.

Polls for RedOrchid's story Crossroads

2009-01-13T20:16:31Z

Cardel let me borrow her journal to create a couple of polls. Because she is awesome, and you should all give her cookies. :-D

/Red

View Poll: First read

View Poll: Lyrics

View Poll: Best aspect of this story

View Poll: Sexytimes

Thank you!

Back to story!

fic: spencer smith superhero extraordinaire (brendon/spencer)

2009-01-07T06:35:21Z

Firts fic of the new year \o/

Title: Spencer Smith Superhero Extraordinaire
Rating: PG
Pairing: Brendon/Spencer
POV: 3rd
Summary: The boys have a photo shoot, Jon misses his cats, Ryan does not like argyle, Brendon has a green crisis, it’s up to Spencer to save the day. Again.
Word Count: 3107
Disclaimer: Sadly enough they’re not mine and this is just a work of fiction : (
A/N: *giggles madly* Because I like to believe this band does not function without the awesomeness that is Spencer Smith :)

ETA: A big thanks to xdametokillforx for doing an awesome beta job on this.

xposted to slashatthedisco</lj>and bandslashmania

Spencer is late to their photo shoot; actually, he’s on time, but considering his band’s tendency towards giving into melodramatics when he’s not around, being on time is equal to being late. He rushes into the studio and does a quick scan of the room and feels himself relax.

He adjusts the bags he’s carrying on his shoulder which contain what he hopes is whatever he will need to avoid any tragedies that are surely to occur at some point in the day. Spencer walks further into the studio.

There is no one on fire, crying or screaming so he counts that as a win. He’s not sure what it is about photo shoots, but they always bring the drama queen out of every member of the band. Well, except for Spencer, who needs to keep a level head to deal with everyone’s crisis and get them through a photo shoot.

“Finally,” he hears someone say. Spencer turns, spots Zack walking towards him, and immediately tenses again. Zack takes the duffle bag and messenger bag from Spencer.

“Equipment?” Zack asks.

“Equipment,” Spencer confirms, then “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I tried but we had an emergency as soon as we stepped out of the bus,” Zack says and continues. “Did you see what’s in front of the studio?”

Spencer shakes his head; he had been too busy scrambling out of the bus to notice much else.

“A jungle gym.” The way he says it makes it sound like he believes someone did that on purpose just to make his life harder. Spencer coughs to cover up his laugh.

“As soon as I saw that I knew I had to be on Brendon like white on rice,” Zack continues. “And seriously, what did his mom feed that kid? One minute I’m guiding him inside, and the next he’s off like a bullet and in the fucking jungle gym racing Jon to the monkey bars. And you know how Jon is with Brendon; no help there.”

This is true, because even though they are all really close friends Jon has always handled Brendon with the protectiveness of a big brother. Jon can never say no to Brendon.

“By the time I managed to get them into the studio my priority became keeping them in here,” Zack finishes.

“Okay, so what’s the damage?” Spencer asks, knowing the relative calm is too good to be true.

Spencer and Zack are a team, so Zack wastes no time on giving Spencer the quick and dirty. “Ryan is throwing a fit. He refuses to wear anything wardrobe has shown him and he won’t tell them why. Jon is pouting and I think he’s, genuinely, about two minutes away from water works.”

Spencer nods and stares at Zack, waiting for him to finish. When Zack says nothing more, Spencer sighs. “And Brendon?” he asks, expecting the worst.

“Uncharacteristically out of trouble,” Zack says slowly, almost reluctantly as he fights the urge to look around to see if his words have jinxed them. He may even be holding his breath a little.

And who would blame him? Not Spencer. But okay, he has diva Ryan to deal with and a sad Jon; that’s not too bad. He can handle this no problem.

Spencer nods to Zack and goes off to fix his band mates. He goes after Jon first because Jon is always the easiest if he gets to him on time.

The thing about Jon is that he’s an honest to God, cheerful guy all the time, so when he’s upset about something he usually means it. Therefore, if Jon isn’t snapped out of his sad funk, and quickly, there is nothing short of an emergency trip to see his cats that will fix it.

“Hey, why the long face?” Spencer asks when he finds Jon. Jon is sitting on a treasure chest, which Spencer assumes is props for later.

Jon sighs and his shoulders slump a little and there is nothing in the world more sad than a sad Jon. “I just miss my cats,” he admits softly and his gaze goes off to the right.

Following his gaze, Spencer spots a puppy, and he wonders if the puppy is a prop as well. The puppy is playing eagerly with what looks like a shoe. Spencer cringes; shoes are not to be treated as chew toys, ever, but he pushes away his feelings of outrage to concentrate on Jon.

“Why don’t you go say hi to them, then?” Spencer takes a seat next to Jon on the treasure chest.

Jon turns and gives him a look. “Spence, I can’t just leave the photo shoot and hop a flight to Chicago, just to say hi to my cats,” he says reasonably, except for the fact that he would definitely do that if he didn’t feel like he was letting the band down.

That’s why they love Jon Walker; he can be as crazy and impulsive as Brendon but also completely responsible, like Spencer.

“I didn’t mean fly out. Remember the web cam we set up for you at home? I brought my lap-top; you can use it and check on them before we have to start taking pictures,” Spencer suggests.

The change in Jon is instantaneous; he sits up straighter and his face just beams, like sunshine breaking through a cloudy day. Spencer may be spending a little too much time watching Disney movies with Brendon if he’s thinking about similes having to do with the sun and Jon’s smile.

“Oh my God, I totally forgot about that. Spencer, you are the best,” Jon exclaims as he hops off the treasure chest. Once on his feet, he looks at Spencer expectantly.

“Zack has it.” Jon gives Spencer a bone-crushing hug before he leaves. The sound of his flip-flops slapping cheerfully as he dashes to find Zack makes Spencer smile.

One down, one to go.

Spencer finds Ryan in the changing room. There is a girl with him, who must be in charge of wardrobe. Spencer looks at the two and he isn’t sure if Ryan or the girl is closer to tears.

“No, I said I want to wear a pattern shirt,” Ryan says, and only their years of friendship allow Spencer to know that Ryan is using his frustrated voice. The only outward sign he gives is a small sigh.

Both Ryan and the wardrobe girl are completely oblivious to Spencer, who sneaks in and starts riffling through the clothes on the Z-rack in the corner of the room. The other clothing rack, the one the girl is taking clothes from to show to Ryan, is conveniently in the way so he doesn’t have to worry too much about them seeing him.

“Okay, patterns. How about argyle? This blue one would look great on you.” Spencer hears her say, her voice desperate.

“No, not like that, I like patterns with the, the--” Ryan says, and Spencer doesn’t have to be looking at them to know that Ryan is actually flailing.

And this is possibly Ryan’s greatest bane; he has the ability to write metaphors about life into witty lyrics that no one gets but Ryan and possibly Pete Wentz, but ask him to remember anything else and his mind goes blank.

Everything becomes, “You know, that purple one with the things,” as Ryan would say to Brendon when ordering his favorite drink at the Smoothie Hut, or:

“Spencer I need more eye liner,” Ryan says holding three full tubes in his hand. Spencer rolls his eyes. “No, not eye liner, EYE liner. The eye liner I use to draw the birds.”

OR:

“I like her,” Ryan says at the VMAs with a goofy smile.

“Which one?” Brendon asks.

“The dancer,” Ryan says unhelpfully.

Spencer rolls his eyes. “Which one?”

“The blonde one with the--” flaily hands, again, “legs.”

“Oh my God. If I ever go missing, don’t ever let Ryan give a description of me,” Spencer states.

Brendon giggles. “He’d be like; he’s tall with the,” Brendon flails his hands like Ryan had earlier, “hips.”

In short Ryan became kind of... inarticulate. So, it’s no surprise to Spencer how Ryan is completely failing to tell this poor girl what he wants to wear.

“No, I don’t like this argyle thing. I like patterns with the, the thing that looks like half of a yin-yang, you know,” Ryan finishes lamely.

Spencer almost laughs at that. He pulls out a few more shirts from the rack and nonchalantly walks over to the Z-rack the girl is taking clothes from and hangs them on the rack.

“Umm no, but I’ve seen pictures from your shows and I have shirts with prints. Do you like roses? Because I saw this one picture of you and you had a rose vest on,” she says.

Shitshitshit. They do not talk about the rose vest anymore; that’s a no-no topic. Spencer watches Ryan’s face trying to turn an impressive magenta color. It would be comical if it wasn’t an indicative that he has about five seconds before Ryan really blows up.

“Hello!” He greets them cheerfully, pretending he just stepped into the room. “Are you ready for me?” Spencer asks the girl, and makes it a point to grab one of the shirts he placed on the rack and starts playing with the sleeve.

“No, actually; would you mind going into hair and makeup first?” she asks.

Though Spencer is paying more attention to the way Ryan has straightened in his chair and is eyeing the shirt Spencer is playing with.

“What is that?” Ryan asks, pointing to the shirt, his voice trembling a little with excitement. Well, to Spencer it sounds like excitement; to the girl it probably sounds like Ryan’s normal monotone.

She turns to see the shirt Spencer is playing with and turns back to Ryan. “The paisley shirt?” she asks slowly, the desperate hope clear in her voice.

“Paisley,” Ryan parrots and stands to move closer to the clothing rack. “I like paisley,” Ryan says he gives the shirts a quick scan and nods his head. “I’ll wear one of these.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Neither one hears Spencer laughter as he walks out of the room. Spencer sighs and fights the urge to pump his fist in the air; that would be so dorky, and besides, he’s already doing mental cartwheels anyway. Two tragedies avoided and he feels like he climbed a small mountain, or at least a steep hill.

Spencer heads over to hair and makeup where Brendon is talking cheerfully with the hair and makeup guy. It seems like they really hit it off. And Spencer would feel jealous, but why would he? He’s the one who gets to take Brendon home at the end of the day.

As Spencer approaches he hears the one question that will start more drama than that of Jon and Ryan.

“Does the hairspray have CFC's?” Brendon asks his voice pleasant, not giving the guy any warning as to what his answer should be.

“Um. Sure! Tons!” The guy replies before Spencer can intervene and tell him how bad that answer is. Too late now, he will see soon enough; actually, they all will see.

“What?” Brendon squawks, flails and somehow still manages not to fall off his chair, though there is some comical stumbling.

“How could you?” Brendon asks outraged, he snatches the can of hairspray from the guy’s hand. The guy takes a step back looking afraid of the tiny, but furious, person before him.

“I can’t let you increase my carbon foot print by using this on me. Or on anyone else.” Brendon turns to the makeup table and grabs all the hairspray cans he can find, which are a lot.

“Now, where can I get rid of these?” Brendon asks, while he struggles to keep all the aluminum hairspray cans in his arms.

“Uh there’s a garbage bin behind the-”

“Ahh!” Brendon screeches before storming off, mumbling about careless people and the dangers of CFC’s and the importance of disposing of hazardous waste products in an environmentally-friendly manner.

Spencer sighs and stares after Brendon. Can’t win them all, Spencer thinks while trying not to glare at the makeup guy.

“What the hell are CFC’s?” The makeup guy asks.

“ChloroFluoroCarbons,” Spencer answers with the lackluster tone of someone who has answered that question more times then he’d like. The guy gives him a confused look. “They deplete the ozone layer,” Spencer further explains sounding like a, well rehearsed, after school special.

“Oh, so is he one of those people?” he asks. Spencer doesn’t need him to elaborate he knows exactly what he means.

“Not really,” Spencer answers, and makes a mental note to let Zack know Brendon is no longer allowed to have unsupervised conversations with one Andrew John Hurley.

Five minutes later everyone is running around trying to find Brendon. Spencer knows Brendon is hiding. Brendon is hiding because he most likely found out they don’t have a recycling system set up in the studio and when things don’t go Brendon’s way he likes to sulk in solitude, preferably in a small space with a lock.

Brendon has done this before, and not even in the wake of a tantrum, but simply because he is Brendon, a small guy who can fit into tiny places. In fact, Brendon will purposely find the smallest places he can fit in and hide, just because he can. Like the time he hid in a cupboard, under some freaking stairs, because he wanted to see how Harry-fucking-Potter had lived.

With this information in mind, Spencer goes to find Zack. He finds Zack rather quickly, since the other man is looking for him as well.

“Bathroom? Changing room?” Spencer asks as soon as he sees Zack. “Or, please don’t tell me he found a cupboard.”

Zack shakes his head. “No, broom closet. End of the hall,” Zack says, pointing. “Jon’s already trying to talk to him.”

Spencer nods. That’s good; Jon can keep Brendon’s hysterics from escalating. Spencer quickly forms a plan in his head and turns to Zack. “Okay this is what we need to do.”

Ten minutes later, Spencer is walking to the broom closet with a can of CFC-free hairspray.

“Come on B, if you come out now you can say hi to Clover and Dylan,” Spencer hears Jon say.

“No. Jonny Walker, they’re killing the ozone layer and they don’t even care. Come in here and protest with me.” Brendon’s voice is muffled through the wooden door but even that can’t hide the tremble in voice.

“Bden,” Jon says quietly.

“Hey,” Spencer says placing a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I got this.”

Jon turns and stands in front of the door with his arms crossed. Spencer blinks; Jon seriously looks like a mother hen protecting her young. But then Jon remembers this is Spencer and if he can trust anyone with Bden, it's Spencer. He uncrosses his arms and pats Spencer on the shoulder.

“Good luck,” he says before walking away.

“Brendon,” Spencer says, and feels stupid when he knocks on the door.

“Go away, Spencer.” Brendon sniffles, and it really breaks Spencer’s heart. He knows Brendon goes through phases like people go through their junk mail. But regardless of what phase Brendon goes through, he always means it with his whole heart. Spencer knows that Brendon is truly hurt by people not caring about the environment.

“Brendon, come on. Open the door and talk to me,” Spencer says his voice soft.

“No, you’ll distract me with your blue eyes and your amazing hips,” Brendon says through the door.

Spencer hears a few chuckles behind him and he realizes there’s a small crowd gathered around the hall in front of the broom closet. Spencer turns briefly from the closed door to look at everyone around him.

“Do. You. Mind.” Three little words and one well placed bitch look and people are scrambling to get away from Spencer.

Once the hall is cleared, Spencer turns back to the door.

“Brendon, come on out,” Spencer says again. It’s time to see if his plan will work he says, “I went on Google and found a recycling center near here; Zack says we can stop by after the photo shoot, so we can get rid of the cans in a safe manner,” Spencer says trying to coax Brendon from his hiding place.

“Really?” Brendon asks his voice tiny and muffled.

“Really. And we also got someone to go out and buy cans of hairspray, CFC-free. If you open the door, I’ll show you.”

“You’re not just saying that?” Which is a fair question; not one of them is above using dirty tricks to get things done.

“No, see.” And Spencer starts reading off the grocery list of eco- friendly compounds on the can, some of which he can’t even pronounce.

He’s at the fourth ingredient when the door opens. He starts to smile but it dies on his lips when he’s yanked forward. Brendon is pulling him inside and then pushing him onto the door, which slams shut.

“Brendon,” Spencer says in a rush as Brendon presses his body flush against Spencer’s.

“I love it when you talk organic to me,” Brendon says, smiling, before he kisses Spencer. The can of hairspray clutters to the floor when Spencer decides his hands can be put to better use, like cupping the back of Brendon’s head while he kisses him.

Spencer and Brendon are still in the closet ten minutes later. And Zack should have known better than to leave Spencer anywhere near Brendon and a room with a locking door. If Spencer Smith were a superhero his kryptonite would be Brendon Urie, every single time.

There’s a giggle from the other side of the door followed by thump and a groan, that Zack is one hundred percent sure is not from pain. A production assistant chooses that moment to walk over.

“Are they still arguing?” she asks, looking at the closed door.

“They’re talking it out.” And just then they hear a really loud moan from inside and Zack is so tired of feeling embarrassed for other people’s kids. He clears his throat. “Let’s um, given them ten minutes,” he says loudly.

“Fifteen,” he hears from inside. That must be Brendon; seriously, that kid, give him an inch and he’ll take a fucking mile.

“Five,” Zack counters.

“Ten’s good,” is the immediate response.

Zack grins and counts his small triumph and quickly ushers the production assistant away before the noises from the closet get louder.

fic: love letters in the age of txt speak (ryan/brendon)

2008-11-16T09:35:43Z

Title: Love Letters In The Age Of Txt Speak
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon with a side of (Jon/Spencer, Cash/Singer, Pete/Patrick)
POV: 3rd
Summary: AU Brendon hates it when Ryan goes on business trips, lucky for him cell phones exist.
Word Count: 4602
Disclaimer: Sadly enough they’re not mine and this is just a work of fiction : (
Author Notes: Oh my God, this is nothing more than a big, cavity inducing, fluffy piece of total self indulgence. *sigh* I fail so hard at fics.

x-posted bandslashmania</lj> and slashatthedisco</lj>

Day 1

Brendon wakes up slowly. He sighs and reaches across the bed only to find an empty space where Ryan’s body should have been.

Blinking in confusion he lifts his head to confirm that Ryan really isn't anywhere on the bed. He even looks around the foot of the bed because Ryan is a restless sleeper and sometimes he ends curled up at the foot of the bed. Brendon is never sure how that even happens.

A quick scan of his bed reveals that Ryan really is gone. But before Brendon can flop his head back onto his pillow he sees his cell phone on Ryan’s pillow with a bright yellow sticky that says read me.

With a yawn Brendon reaches over for his phone and opens his message box and opens the one from Ryan. The subject line reads; Wish I was here.

Brendon opens the message; he laughs. It’s a multimedia message, a picture of him sleeping earlier. He takes a quick look at the time he received the message. It says ass o'clock in the morning. Poor Ryan.

He scrolls down past his sleeping picture to read what Ryan wrote.

This is what u look like when u sleep. I'm going to miss u. Love you.

There’s a little flutter in his stomach and a huge smile on his lips. But he schools his features into a perfect pout. He hits the reply button and angels his camera phone to capture him and Ryan’s empty side of the bed.

It takes him a few tries and when he gets the picture he types in; I miss u too. And hits the send button.

He sets his phone on the night table and gets up. Ryan won’t answer any time soon he’s probably still on the airplane and when he lands Brendon knows he’ll be busy with meetings and business dinners and what not.

After he takes a shower he pads down to the kitchen and eats a bowl of cocoa crisps in the living room. He watches reruns of Bugs Bunny for a while before he gets bored.

Brendon hates when Ryan is gone because it’s too quiet in the house, not that it’s especially noisy when Ryan’s home, but there is the sense that there is another human being occupying the same space. Right now though, he doesn’t have that feeling and Hobo doesn’t help. She’s just lying by the door.

Getting up from the couch he grabs his phone, wallet and keys and heads for the door. On his way out he calls to Hobo. “Hobo come on girl, let’s go bug Spencer and Jon.” Hobo doesn’t even twitch from her resting spot she just gives him an uninterested look.

“Fine, be that way,” Brendon says before leaving.

Jon and Spencer run a photography business. Jon does photography. Spencer handles the business part of it. Brendon is a model from one of their clients.

"Go home Urie." Spencer says yet again.

"No. I'm lonely there," Brendon pouts and sprawls further into the couch he’s laying on, as if making a point that he is not going anywhere. There’s a snap, snap of the camera.

"Don't encourage him,” Spencer says glaring at Jon.

"I can't help it. He makes love to the camera.” And his voice is actually husky.

Spencer doesn't even look up and Brendon knows better. Jon's lust is strictly lens related. When he doesn't see people through a lens they just don't capture his eye at all.

Well except for Spencer; Spencer who's being mean and is glaring at him. Brendon takes his phone out and snaps a picture of Spencer. He sends it to Ryan with the message:

Spencer’s being mean to me C.

Spencer looks up from the floor where he’s setting up for a shoot they have later in the day. He glares at Brendon and opens his mouth but the sound of Jon’s camera snapping away makes him turn towards Jon.

"Alright enough of that. You have a shoot with the Alexes et al. And you know how they get if they're there before you." Spencer tells Jon.

"You're not coming?" Jon asks.

"No I need to meet with Brendon’s modeling agency they want to send you to Spain in the summer." Spencer answers.

"Oh are we doing it?" Jon asks happy to leave all the business dealings to Spencer. It’s funny because Jon could care less how much money he makes or how many people love his work or if he got another job at all. All he cares about is taking pictures, capturing a perfect moment and freezing it in time forever. And Spencer makes sure he does and that everyone knows his boyfriend is the best.

“I don't know. This is just an informal meeting.” Spencer replies.

“Okay,” Jon says and picks up his equipment and starts heading out.

"Wait,” Spencer says and gets up from his crouch. “You’re shooting in a warehouse with no heating.” Spencer says. He walks over to his desk and grabs the scarf hanging off the back of his chair. He walks up to Jon and wraps it around Jon’s neck.

Spencer wraps it once and lets his hands rest on Jon’s chest once he’s done. They stand there, silent and just staring. And they have this totally; we're in bubble and no one outside it exists, moment that is really sweet and intimate. Brendon sighs and misses Ryan even more.

When he gets home Hobo greets him excitedly. Brendon feels bad for having neglected their dog, even though she’s the one that didn’t want to go out with him in the first place. Brendon loves their dog though and is a big push over when it comes to her. So he goes out to play with her for a few hours.

He has just finished making mac and cheese when there's a message on his phone. He opens it and is greeted with a beautifully arranged plate. There are colors that capture the eye, they swirl and seem to meet in the middle where there is a pebbled sized something, Brendon assumes is food, sitting atop garnishing grass.

I'm going to starve !!!! Is the message from Ryan.

Brendon laughs and takes a picture of his mac and cheese and sends it to Ryan.

Mmm looks good. Call u at ten. Ryan sends back.

At two past ten Brendon’s phone rings.

"Hey," Ryan’s voice comes through before Brendon can say anything.

"Hi," Brendon says. There's a yawn on the end of the line.

"Tough day?" He asks.

"Yeah, but everything so far is going smooth.” Brendon can hear the rustling of sheets as if Ryan is just getting into bed. He looks at the empty space besides him and gently runs his hand over Ryan’s pillow wishing Ryan was next to him or that he were next to Ryan.

"Good,” Brendon says and means it because smooth sailing means Ryan will be home when he’s supposed to and not two or three days after.

"Tell me about your day." Ryan says.

Brendon tells him about his day. He tells him about playing with Hobo. He leaves out the part where he misses Ryan a lot because then Ryan feels bad and guilty and Brendon doesn’t like to make him feel that way.

There's another yawn. Brendon, reluctantly, acknowledges he has to let Ryan go so he can get some sleep.

"Wanna sleep?" Brendon asks. He tries to keep the sadness from his voice he really does but it still comes through.

"Wanna hear your voice even more." Ryan admits.

It makes Brendon’s heart give a happy flutter. "Okay how about I talk, you sleep". Brendon suggests.

Ryan laughs. "Don't you have a photo shoot in the morning?” And really the question is a formality they have each other’s schedules memorized down to a T.

"Yeah but if I can't fall asleep next to you then I want to hear you fall asleep." Brendon says and he knows Ryan will give in because Ryan always does when it’s something he really wants.

“Okay. But it’s on you when Spencer chews you a new one for being late to your shoot.” He warns.

Brendon smiles and talks quietly, softly, about the rest of his day. He giggles and tells Ryan how completely whipped Spencer is. He tells him about how Hobo won't fetch for him no matter how hard he bribes her, Ryan laughs softly.

When his voice gets tired he starts humming and by that time he can hear Ryan’s soft deep breathing. Ryan is a good fake sleeper but Brendon has been sleeping next to him way too long not to know the difference.

Ryan is sleeping. Brendon let's Ryan’s breathing lull him too sleep. He has a stray thought that he's really glad they have an unlimited plan.

Day 2

Getting yelled at by Spencer the next morning is so worth it. Brendon gives the camera his soul. In return Jon looks at him like his favorite piece of candy.

Day 3

Brendon is over at Jon and Spencer’s studio again this time though, The Cab is there. And little Alex DeLeon totally has heart eyes for Brendon. Brendon thinks he’s totally cute but even if he wasn’t with Ryan he still wouldn’t go for him because Cash gives him the stink eye every time he goes near Alex.

Brendon decides to inform Ryan of his current activities so he types up a message.

Hangin out with the cab. Cash is goin to eat me cause I’m gettin <3 eyes frm alex.

Ryan’s reply is almost immediate, which Brendon interprets as Ryan being on a rare break from one of his meetings, or maybe on his way to one.

That is the reason I need to tattoo ‘property of Ryan Ross’ on ur forhead.

This of course just makes Brendon laugh, loud and carefree. Alex scoots closer to him in an attempt to read his message. Brendon shakes his head and tucks his phone away. “It’s just an inside joke.” He tells Alex.

Alex pouts and opens his mouth to protest but Cash comes over. “Picture time princess,” Cash teases his lead singer. He grabs a hold of Alex’s hand and pulls him away from Brendon.

Brendon doesn’t miss the way Alex’s hand curl around Cash’s or how they don’t let go of each other until Jon tells them how to arrange themselves. Brendon smiles to himself and wonders how long it’s going to take Alex to notice he already has a boyfriend.

Everyone is now doing something productive; the band is posing for pictures. Spencer’s on the phone and Jon is, obviously, taking pictures.

Brendon sighs and gets up from his place and goes to sit on the floor by Hobo and Dylan, Jon’s awesome fetching cat.

After one hour of unsuccessfully trying to convince Hobo and Dylan that they’re mortal enemies and that they’re disgracing their ancestors, so stop cuddling, he gives up. Even though he secretly thinks they’re the cutest thing ever. Jon seems to agree, if the way he turns from the guys to snap a quick picture of the unlikely pair is any indication.

Brendon sends Hobo one rueful look before going to lounge on the couch. With a sigh he takes his phone out and decides the only logical thing to do now is; to send Ryan a picture of the blasphemers. After hitting the send button Brendon settles deeper into the couch and watches his friends work until he drifts off to sleep.

Day4

Brendon has a meeting with Pete. Pete is a client from Brendon’s agency; he wants to see Brendon model some of his clothes. Patrick is Pete’s assistant. Pete of course is totally in love with Patrick who returns the sentiment.

Actually, Patrick used to be clueless until about two months ago. Brendon remembers that day vividly and he’s, kind of, really glad he was there to see it.

The moment when Patrick, finally, realized all of Pete’s pestering, side comments, friendly touches and propositions of marriage, were in fact, Pete being sincere, had gone something like this:

A last minute, one way, red eye ticket from Chicago to New York to meet with Pete because he was having a nervous breakdown that was really all about wanting, regardless of what Pete claimed, having Patrick with him now, now, right now, instead of in two more days, than it was about fashion week jitters - $300

The gallons of coffee Patrick had to drink to seem, minutely, human - $21.56

The limo, a super-stretch white Cadillac Deville, (because this was for Patrick damn it and Pete didn’t go cheap on anything for Patrick) to take Patrick from the airport to Pete’s place - $500

Pete gasping “Patrick” as if it physically hurt him, to feel so much in awe and so much in love, when Patrick walk through the door and Patrick realizing that he, maybe definitely, felt the same way - Priceless.

Brendon, who had been doing a final fitting for one of Pete’s outfits, had wisely made himself scarce.

And though, it seems that nothing has changed between them, Brendon and their closest friends know the truth. They all see Pete’s adoring looks, which is nothing new, but Patrick’s return affection is.

It’s cute and Brendon smiles as he models some of Pete’s clothes and he asks. “So are you doing a circus theme?”

Pete hmm’s as he walks around Brendon making sure the fabric hugs him snugly like it’s suppose to and answers, “The top hat and whip are props and this is equestrian-esque themed and you look hot.”

“Equestrian-esque? I look like a lion tamer.” He laughs and rushes to his messenger bag. He takes out his phone and hands it to Patrick.

“Here take a picture Ryan will get a kick out of this one.” Patrick shrugs and complies snapping a picture of Brendon, who pretends to fend off an invisible lion.

Patrick hands him back his phone. Brendon sends the picture to Ryan. He misses Pete’s and Patrick’s conversation on the cons and pros of props in favor of reading Ryan’s quick response.

Ryan sends him back lol’s and says:

You should be a lion tamer for Halloween.

Brendon writes back excitedly, telling him:

Yeah I’m in. Hobo can be a wee lil lion n u ken b my lovely assistant.

“Brendon the whip,” Pete says and holds out his hand. Brendon gives him the whip and watches Pete and Patrick stare at him and then at each other. “Maybe no top hat either?”

When Brendon reaches up for the top hat two things happen; one Patrick holds his hand out to receive the hat and two Pete decides to snap the whip.

It’s a truly sad attempt. The whip curls lazily in the air but somehow catches on Patrick’s out stretched arm. Two lazy loops manage to wrap around Patrick’s forearm.

Pete looks amused as he tugs the whip; the loops tighten on Patrick’s arm tugging him closer to Pete. Pete’s eyes go from amused, to dark with want, in less than a second. Patrick goes still and licks his lips.

“Canes!” Pete shouts tearing his eyes away from Patrick. “A walking cane would be better. Patrick, prop room now.” He says and tugs the whip and in turn Patrick who blushes and gives Brendon an apologetic smile.

And Patrick’s “Brendon could you just,” gets cut off by Pete’s persistent tugging and mantra of “Patrick, Patrick now.”

Brendon just laughs and watches them disappear out the door. He changes into his own clothes. When he’s getting ready to leave he gets a mutilated message from Pete.

U cloths wll cal latr wit detls rly latr

Which Brendon interprets as Pete wanting him to model the clothes and that he’ll call him later, much, much later with the details.

Brendon is happy for them he really is because he knows that if anyone can keep Pete half sane, considering the business he’s in, and make him happy at the same time it’s Patrick.

However, thinking about Pete and Patrick being all happy-touchy only serves to remind him that he misses Ryan pretty badly.

Day 5

Mornings are the worst things in the world when Ryan is away. They are the worst because the first thing Brendon has to reconcile with is the fact that Ryan is not here. And he knows that and he has to deal with that for the rest of a very long day.

It’s day five of Ryan’s business trip and Brendon is missing him like crazy. Phone calls are always rare when Ryan is away; Brendon hasn’t heard his voice in what feels like forever. Text messages are the norm of communication and he’s thankful for that. He reaches for his phone and types out a message.

Come home I miss you so so much

Brendon bites his lip and deletes the message, he can’t, he can’t say that to Ryan. He can’t tell him he feels like an alien in his own skin without Ryan’s skin next to his. He can’t tell him how tight his skin feels, how much he misses Ryan’s touch; light on his neck, teasing on his collar bone, firm on his abdomen.

He can’t, he can’t say that to Ryan because Ryan loves his job and Brendon refuses to make him feel guilty about the necessary business trips he has to make. Brendon just can’t. So he doesn’t say a single thing about how tight and itchy his skin feels without Ryan’s touch. Instead he tells him:

Bored also my skin is dry it itches :(

It’s almost ten when he gets a message from Ryan, who writes:

Dont stay in da house then…and have u tried using lotion

And Brendon has already used Ryan’s lotion and Ryan’s shampoo and Ryan’s soap and he is currently wearing one of Ryan’s shirts just to feel closer to him. Just to relieve some of the uneasiness he feels in his own skin.

Yeah, used ur lotion it helped a little. dont wanna go out of the house

He writes back leaving out the, because there’s no traces of you outside this space.

Boredom relief arrives at 11:17am in the form William Beckett. William also wants to bone him but for some reason Ryan sees William as less of a threat than say Alex DeLeon. Which really is stupid considering Cash and Alex are so gay for each other.

So when Brendon texts Ryan and tells him:

William won't leave the house and he's eating all the food :(

He's not surprised by Ryan’s, unsympathetic, lol. Brendon kind of hates Ryan right now, except that’s a total lie.

"William," Brendon whines. "Stop eating my food and or leave my house."

William laughs and says, "But if I leave who'll play with Hobo?" This is true because Hobo loves William. She'll even fetch for him, the traitor. Ryan sends him another lol when Brendon tells him Hobo loves William more.

When William finally leaves it’s late at night. Brendon is so exhausted that he barely manages to get undressed before he falls asleep under the blankets.

Day 6

In the morning (one pm totally counts as morning if he hasn't eaten cereal yet) Brendon rolls out of bed and trots to the living room almost stepping on Hobo's tail. And yeah, maybe that's why she hates him.

He finds his phone in between the couch cushions, he picks it up to find a bunch of pictures and one video he never took which means William took them. He scrolls through them and laughs at; Hobo licking William’s face, William pouting and pointing at a stain on his shirt, Hobo chewing, viciously, on Brendon’s shoes.

When he plays the video William waves and gives him a big smile before he starts talking.

“So, if I gave you a headache blame your boyfriend. He sent me.” William blows him a kiss before saying bye. Brendon laughs at that too.

There’s also a new message from Ryan he opens it. And it says:

Hope William was suitable entertainment for my hermit boyfriend.

Brendon laughs and shakes his head fondly. Ryan knows, too well, how antsy Brendon can get when he’s by himself. He thinks it’s really sweet of Ryan to send his friend to keep him company. Even though he still thinks it’s funny how, only Ryan would think William is suitable entertainment. But at least he didn't send Gabe.

So he types him back a smiley face. And can't help but to add a; P.S. I miss u.

It’s much later in the day when Ryan replies with an e-mail full of virtual hugs. And a text message that says:

Meetin not goin so good. Might actlly have 2 stay longr. Sry Bren. I’ll call latr. I love you.

Brendon reads the message and sighs. There's not much that he can do except send Ryan a sad smiley. Huh? And isn’t that an oxymoron Brendon thinks as he smiles and sends the text to Ryan. He prepares an argument about sad smiley’s and angry smiley’s and so forth to say to Jon next time he sees him.

He gets up from the couch. He finds Hobo and takes her for a walk. Hobo is an active dog most of the time, she and Brendon are a good pair with all their boundless energy.

Today though, Hobo seems to sense Brendon’s mood and their pace is a sedated one. Brendon smiles down at their dog. Hobo looks up at him and cocks her head sympathetically, completely ignoring her neighborhood nemesis dog that has just started barking at them from behind the safety of its fence; Hobo is a smart dog.

When they get back to the house Brendon takes Hobo to the fenced backyard and lets her run around. Because Brendon is smart too and he knows Hobo is dying to run around.

Hobo runs around the yard. Brendon sits in one of the lounge chairs. His pocket vibrates, he pulls out his phone. It’s a message from Ryan.

He opens it; it’s a picture of Ryan. Brendon’s eyes go wide there's no text only the picture but he immediately recognizes their living room behind Ryan.

Leaping up from the chair he rushes inside.

"Ryan!" He yells. The ten feet that separate him from Ryan disappear in one bound. He lunges himself at his boyfriend.

And even though Ryan is ready for the attack they still go down on the couch. There's a medley of arms and legs and lips on cheeks and lips on necks and finally lips pulled back revealing happy smiles.

"You're home!" Brendon states. Ryan laughs before he flinches as Brendon pouts and punches his arm.

"You lied."

"I wanted to surprise you.” And he doesn’t look guilty at all; he just wraps his arms around Brendon and pulls him closer.

"Well I am". Brendon says, getting over his mood quickly. He decides having Ryan home is much better than being mad at him.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” Brendon mumbles burying his face in Ryan’s neck. He pulls back to see Ryan smiling at him.

“Me too,” Ryan says. And even though he seems genuinely happy, Brendon can see the weariness of work and travel on his face.

Before he can say anything Ryan cups his face and pulls him closer for a kiss. Ryan’s mouth is urgent and his tongue is insistent as he coaxes Brendon’s tongue to play with his. His hands pull Brendon closer as if wanting to meld their bodies; Brendon knows that feeling.

Ryan’s hips grind slowly against Brendon. And in spite of the frantic kissing and roaming hands Brendon knows Ryan is too tired for this to be more than a heavy petting make out session.

“Come on,” Ryan whispers against Brendon’s lips. Brendon licks his lips and stands. “Nap time,” Ryan states with a smile. He takes a hold of Brendon’s hand lacing their fingers together before walking down the hall to their bedroom.

Before getting on the bed Ryan stops, he grabs the hem of Brendon’s shirt and tugs. Brendon doesn’t hesitate before pulling his shirt up and off.

He pushes Brendon gently on the bed and spoons behind him. Ryan’s hands are on his back and they travel lazily up to his shoulder blades and around to his chest, tracing him like a path on a familiar map; over his ribs and down to his abdomen where Ryan splays his fingers and lets them settle there.

Ryan’s mouth kisses his shoulder and his ear and trails kisses over his back. Brendon closes his eyes and just feels. Feels Ryan turn him on his back and straddle his waist.

The feeling of Ryan’s lips on his skin is indescribable. Ryan’s lips on his collar bone, kissing gently down his chest, nothing more than just a gentle brush of lips on skin. Brendon feels like tiny currents of electricity run through him every time Ryan’s lips touch his skin. His body hums with joy, like an instrument only Ryan knows how to play.

Ryan kisses a line down his sternum, walks his fingers across his stomach his muscles jumping as if reaching out for Ryan’s touch. Brendon’s skin has never felt more his than when Ryan is touching him. He makes a happy sound and arches up slightly.

Brendon feels Ryan’s body shift up and soon Ryan’s lips are on his neck, lingering on the pulse point before moving up to his jaw, bypass his lips and kisses his nose than each eye. And finally Brendon feels Ryan’s forehead against his.

Opening his eyes is a tremendous effort, but it’s worth it when he sees the tender look Ryan is giving him; it takes his breath away. Brendon’s body feels like jello but he manages to give Ryan a small smile before bring his arms up to wrap them around Ryan. He tugs. When Ryan finally settles his weight on top of him, Brendon breathes out a content, relieved sigh.

“Still itchy?” Ryan asks dipping his head down to kiss Brendon’s lips. It’s a lazy kiss involving nips and licks and soft murmurs.

“I, you know.” Brendon asks his voice soft and unsurprised, his lips brushing against Ryan’s.

“Don’t you know?” Ryan asks his voice teasing. “I’m fluent in Brendon speak. Plus,” Ryan says. “I know the feeling,” he confesses.

Brendon watches as Ryan’s fingers twitch before reaching for him. That’s when he understands that while his skin was screaming to feel Ryan’s touch, Ryan’s skin was screaming to touch Brendon’s.

This makes Brendon give Ryan a completely adoring smile. “How are you even real?” He asks voice awed. Ryan doesn’t get a chance to answer because Brendon is shifting them around until they’re facing each other, on their sides.

“Sleep,” Brendon says. Ryan chuckles as Brendon pulls him closer and tucks his head beneath his chin. Brendon feels one last kiss to his Adam’s apple before Ryan falls asleep, he follows quickly after.

But not before thinking about all of Ryan’s messages. Brendon has a series of text messages, multimedia messages, e-mails, and links to silly websites on his phone, all from Ryan. Brendon saves them all to his media card and then he’ll transfers them to his hard drive under a folder that simply reads; I <3RyRo, because the original title (The little things Ryan does when he’s away that make me fall, even more, in love with him every time) was just way too long.

fic:It’s All Fun And Games Until Someone (Spencer) Gets Co©k-Blocked (brendon/spencer)

2008-09-17T08:45:55Z

In celebration of the Cubbies winning today, err, yesterday I guess. I bring you a baseball fic and because Jon can’t be anything but a Cubs fan :)

Title: It’s All Fun And Games Until Someone (Spencer) Gets Co©k-Blocked
Author: cardel
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Brendon/Spencer
POV: 3rd
Summary: Brendon watches baseball with Jon, provokes the wrath of the baseball Gods and Spencer comes to his rescue, kind of.
Word Count: 2131
Disclaimer: Sadly enough they’re not mine and this is just a work of fiction : (
Author Notes: Actually I know nothing about baseball, all members of my family are Cubs fans and I guess I am too by default.

xposted to slashatthedisco and bandslashmania</lj>

The Cubs are doing great they really are and Brendon’s really happy because, even though he knows nothing about baseball, Jon is really happy and a happy Jon, correction, a mega happy Jon is the most awesomest thing in the world. He gives lots of extra hugs and cuddles and just makes everything better. Except for right now because the game has gone into extra innings and Jon is clutching a pillow and looking like his cat is going to have experimental surgery.

It’s like; he thinks that if he blinks and looks away they’ll lose. Actually Brendon knows that’s what Jon believes will happen. Jon told him so at the beginning of the season, he had gone on and on and on about how, “It’s gonna happen this year Bren just watch and see.”

And somehow Brendon found himself Jon’s baseball buddy, he now knows more about baseball than he knows about any other professional sport. He’s not sure if he’s happy or sad, that his long term memory is now partially occupied by rules and regulations, when he could use that space to store more important stuff like remembering that when in presence of Gabe Saporta to run, run far and fast because Gabe still hasn’t forgiven him for the whole cobras aren’t that great comment, Gabe can be really weird about his cobras.

His mind wonders back to the game, which is now at the bottom of the tenth, cubs are up to bat. And really he shouldn’t even know what that means. Jon is staring non-blinking and it’s starting to creep Brendon out a little. Jon startles him when he blinks and sighs.

“This is it Bren. We’ll get them next inning,” Jon says. Brendon realizes the reason Jon has looked away is because of commercials, which last like 30 seconds and seriously how cool is that why can't commercial be short like that for every show.

Brendon watches the short commercial break and is suddenly hungry for fast food. Hungry like, I just smoked pot and now have the munchies hungry, except he hasn’t had pot, which is sad but that’s okay. Brendon hopes the Cubs will get them in the next inning so he can go get food.

There’s a grumbling sound, Brendon sighs and pats his hungry tummy. He looks over at Jon who is back to staring loyally at the screen. He knows he can’t even try to leave. The one time he tried to leave during a game it had been a disaster; it had led to Jon telling them the rules.

Jon has beliefs; Brendon uses this term loosely as to not be offensive. Jon has explained the rules of watching baseball. These rules were law and written in stone according to Jon, it had been almost funny seeing Jon looking so serious as he delivered the rules.

There were three; one and most important, if you watch a game from the beginning you finish it, which was when Ryan and Spencer (stupid Spencer who had said, “Yeah we’ll watch the game, it’ll be fun.” How little did he know) had been the wiser and never watched another game with Jon again. There was a clause to the first rule which also said you couldn’t start watching a game in the middle it was all or nothing. Rule two; you can take pee breaks on commercials and commercials only. Rule three; no distractions, which broke into clauses, no laptops, no phones, (yes that means no texting Brendon) and no making out.

According to Jon the rules were to help break the curse, because “it’s gonna happen this year and we have to do all that’s possible to help out the team” It’s funny how he wasn’t even high when he had said that, but Brendon had been and had unwisely agreed to watch every game he could with Jon.

If Brendon had, had any doubt in Jon’s conviction the Fall Out Boy incident demolished all doubt. When Fall Out Boy was invited to sing at the seventh inning stretch Jon was devastated he was sure it was a bad, bad omen, since according to him, “Pete’s not worthy of singing at the seventh inning stretch. He’s not a true fan, he thinks it’s wrong to have a city divided by rivalry and the Cubs and White Sox should integrate and become one team and call themselves the White Cubs! The White Cubs! This is bad, bad, bad, bad.”

According to Jon the only way to set this wrong right had been to, not only watch the game loyally but to gather every piece of Cubs paraphernalia he had and build a shrine in front of the entertainment center.

Brendon had been a little scared by all the bobble heads staring at him with their creepy smiles. When the Cubs won Jon had danced around, texted Pete to tell him he had negated his bad omeness and also if they were ever invited back to the game Patrick should definitely be the one to sing.

But now Brendon’s starving, he hadn’t expected there to be extra innings. He is seriously thinking about breaking Jon’s third rule. He’ll just take his phone out tap a few keys and ask Spencer to bring him food. He’ll even blackmail him if he won’t; Brendon can go without sex for much longer than Spencer can.

Slowly ever so slowly he pulls out his side kick. He holds his breath and glances over at Jon. Jon’s still glued to the game. He uses his left hand, the one he can hide better from Jon who’s sitting to his right. Jon bites his lip and is leaning even more towards the television.

After his phone is open it’s easy and Brendon quickly types a message to Spencer.

Xtra innins :( brng fud or no sx 2nite :P

When he hits the send button several things happen, Jon gets up from the couch shouting, “No, no, no no, no.” and the opposing team makes two runs.

Brendon’s eyes go wide. The other team has scored two runs! And oh God, oh God what if he did that. What if Jon’s totally right and he broke the ritual and now he’s brought bad karma to the game and now the Cubs are going to lose. He looks down at his phone and quickly pockets it.

Brendon takes in a shaky breath, Jon looks over at him. Brendon freezes and is ready to apologize, get on his knees and beg Jon to have mercy on his young soul.

“I know man,” Jon says, Brendon cringes but Jon just smiles and pats his shoulder. “But we’re not out yet. We’ll get them at the bottom of the twelfth,” Jon says with conviction and turns back to watch the game.

Brendon feels guilty and now wishes he had asked Jon what he should do if ever a rule was broken. Well there’s only one thing to do, if Jon watching the game like he has no need for blinking helps out the team than maybe Brendon watching the game equally loyally will cancel out his bad karma.

It’s worth a try. Brendon leans forward in his seat and tries to concentrate really hard on the game. Kerry Wood is pitching; Brendon thinks Wood looks funny chewing, whatever it is he chews. He catches himself and shakes his head, no bad Brendon, watch the game not the funny masticating motions. Come on Kerry wood keep up the high fast ball.

When the Cubs win Brendon jumps up and into Jon’s arms. They’re still cheering and making fools of themselves when Spencer walks in.

“I bring you the food you demand and you repay me by humping Jon,” Spencer says and he does that little hip thing and Brendon’s suddenly hungry for something else.

Jon sets him down and frowns. “When did you ask him to bring you food?” Jon asks. He looks at Brendon all betrayed with sad puppy eyes and pouty lips.

And Brendon is like George Washington; he cannot tell a lie, a good lie, especially not to Jon Walker and his sad eyes. He takes in a deep breath and gets ready to tell Jon the truth and receive any punishment that might come.

“I told him I’d bring food after the game was over.” Spencer says before Brendon has the chance to confess to his crime.

“But how did you know the game was over? It went into extra innings.” Jon is giving Spencer a suspicious look.

“I know I was listening to it on the radio. I was just sitting out in the car waiting for it to be over so I could come in.” And Spencer is definitely no George Washington.

“Oh, okay” Jon says, accepting the lie and then, “food, so hungry.” Jon takes the bag of food and walks into the kitchen leaving Spencer and Brendon alone.

Spencer finds himself, abruptly, pushed down on the couch with Brendon straddling him. Brendon’s mouth is on his immediately and he gladly responds.

“You broke the rules.” He says quietly incase Jon decides to come back.

“I know, I know and Jon’s right as soon as I hit send the other team scored two runs. I thought Jon was going to know and was like going to kill me and offer me as a virgin sacrifice to the baseball Gods.” Brendon says his face serious.

“Umm wouldn’t you have to be a virgin for that?” Spencer asks holding back laughter.

“Shut up I’m making a point here which is; Jon’s rituals really do work and I’m never ever breaking them again.” Brendon says nodding his head furiously.

“Spencer I so owe you.” He states before he kisses Spencer again.

“Yes you do.” Spencer says between kisses. He bits lightly on Brendon’s lips which are just so perfect and kissable and bitable and look so good around his dick. Spencer grinds up into Brendon, who is just as hard as Spencer is.

“After I eat.” Brendon says pulling away from the kiss.

“No now.” And either Brendon has lost weight or Spencer’s just strong because he just stands up with Brendon and starts walking towards the door.

“No hungry!” Brendon whines even as he wraps his legs around Spencer.

Jon walks into the room and smiles around a steak chalupa. “Bye Bden thanks for watching the game with me.” He says and walks over to the door to open it for them, seeing as how Spencer’s hands are busy on Brendon’s ass.

Brendon makes grabby hands for Jon’s food as they walk by him. “Food! Jon food!”

“’s good.” Jon says and waves before closing the door. Brendon slumps his chin on Spencer’s shoulder and makes himself as heavy as he can.

“Fucker.” Spencer laughs when Brendon stars slipping from his arms. By that time they’ve made the short walk to Spencer’s car.

Brendon sulks and gets in the passenger seat as Spencer walks around and gets in the car. Spencer gives Brendon an evil grin and reaches into the back seat and pulls out a bag. Brendon’s eyes light up and he snatches the bag from Spencer and digs in to pull out the yummy-ness that is Taco Bell food.

“Spencer I love you.” He says around a mouthful of taco. “I’m going to suck you so hard when we get home.” Brendon states and to make his point he, slowly, licks and sucks sauce from his fingers moaning a little.

Spencer swallows and pulls out of Jon’s driveway. The drive home is quick, Spencer has never made it back from Jon’s place in under fifteen minutes, which is why they get pulled over two blocks from their house.

The police officer is in his squad car checking Spencer driver’s license and registration. Spencer looks pissed, Brendon eats the last his food thoughtfully.

“See this is what happens when you mess with the baseball Gods.” He says wisely.

“What? That’s ridiculous and even if it was true you’re the one who broke the rules.” Spencer accuses and he can’t even believe he’s even having this conversation right now.

“Well yes but you’re guilty through association, now the Gods are cock-blocking Spence.” Brendon says mournfully.

“Brendon, no, just no.” Spencer shakes his head.

And he thinks if anything the baseball Gods are mocking him for making his boyfriend watch baseball to begin with. But he doesn’t believe in superstitions and no breaking of some silly ritual is going to stop him from having sex with his boyfriend. He’ll show those so called baseball gods. Even though he secretly, quietly, wonders if watching the Cubs will placate the Gods, he makes a mental note to ask Jon later.

A/N: I kid you not, some of the rules mentioned are actually practiced in my house :-|

fic: the poets are just kinds who didn't make it (part II, brendon/spencer)

2008-09-09T23:21:05Z

The Poets Are Just Kids Who Didn't Make It (part II)

Previous

`````````````````
When Spencer wakes up again Brendon is smiling up at him. Brendon gives Spencer a slow lazy kiss. There has never been awkwardness between them after sex and Spencer’s not surprised that there isn’t any now.

The first time they had sex was, however, so awkward they still laugh about it now, afterwards though, there had been absolutely no awkwardness just a feeling of being at the right place because you were with the right person. It feels like that now, too.

Brendon pulls away from the kiss and starts to get out of bed. Spencer’s hand wraps around his wrist and he yawns sleepily, “Stay.”

“I’m sticky. Come shower with me.” Brendon suggests. Spencer smiles, he knows if he follows Brendon they’ll be in the shower for awhile.

“’kay I’ll catch up,” he agrees letting go of Brendon’s wrist. Brendon sees Spencer close his eyes again before he steps into the bathroom. He chuckles and starts the shower.

By the time Brendon finishes his shower he just sighs and assumes Spencer went back to sleep. He smiles and is already thinking of the best way to wake Spencer when he opens the door to the room.

Spencer is up and is standing by the window, his back is to Brendon. Brendon can see his phone in his ear. Well that explains why Spencer didn’t make it to the shower.

Brendon is about to turn to go back in the bathroom and give Spencer some privacy when he catches the thread of Spencer conversation.

“Really!” he sounds excited. “That’s great mom tell her I’m really proud of her. Yeah I wish I could have been there too, but tell her I’ll bring her an awesome souvenir. Okay. Yes I’m eating healthy, no I haven’t tried any cockroaches.” Spencer laughs.

The sound of Spencer laughter makes Brendon smile but his next words feel like a tourniquet around his heart. “I don’t know when I’ll be back home.” There’s a pause. “Mom,” Spencer says in that please drop the subject tone.

“I know, I know.” A longer pause follows; Spencer sighs and leans his forehead on the window’s glass. “Yeah he is and yes I do.” Spencer says in a whisper.

“Alright love you too and tell dad.” Brendon closes the door and finishes dressing. He’s pulling his shirt over his head when there is a tentative knock on the door before it opens.

Spencer stands there looking sheepish. “Sorry, I got a call from home.” Brendon nods.

“How is everyone?” Brendon asks with a smile on his face, trying to pretend he doesn’t feel, triple his body weight, of guilt on his shoulders.

“Good, really good Anne’s team won their regional tournament.” He says with a smile.

“That’s great. I bet she’s off the wall right now,” Brendon says and he can almost see Spencer’s sister jumping with excitement.

“Yeah,” There is a small sad smile on Spencer’s face before he covers it up with a bright smile.

Brendon’s stomach turns and he’s kind of glad they’re in the bathroom because if he’s going to be sick this is the place to do it. He pushes the acrid feeling down and looks up at Spencer.

This has gone on long enough, he thinks, Spencer needs to go back to the people who love him. “Spencer.” And the tone of his voice must alert Spencer about what he is going to say, about what they have been avoiding talking about, because Spencer stands up straight and he’s staring intently at Brendon.

Before Brendon can say anything there is a pounding on their door. “Is that pounding?” He asks confused. And when he says pounding he doesn’t mean a strong knock no there is actual pounding happening on the other side of the door.

“Urie, Smith open up.” Jonathan’s voice carries clearly through the door.

Spencer turns his head; Brendon uses the opportunity to slip past him and across the room to open the door. Jonathan and Sasha stand on the other side.

“We’re throwing a consolation party for ourselves; you must come and provide entertainment.” Jonathan says. Sasha rolls his eyes, but nods anyway.

“I don’t think I really feel up to it.” Brendon begins but Jonathan already has him by the arm and is pulling him into the hall.

“Come on Smith or I’m stealing your boyfriend.” And it’s just his mind playing tricks on him because he could have just sworn he just heard Spencer growl. Growl? Really?

`````````````````
The “party” happens to be in the room Jonathan and Sasha are sharing. There are only a handful of people there, half the gymnastics’ team and other people Brendon doesn’t know. Brendon spends most of the night dodging Spencer, because even though he knows what he had to do he’s not eager to do it.

Four hours later the party is dying down there’s only six people left, there’s some Chinese movie playing on the TV on mute. Jonathan and Sasha are lying on the same bed on their sides facing each other foreheads touching. They seem to be having a secret conference or something.

Finally Jonathan sighs and rolls onto his back. Brendon thinks he should start going back to his room. The only problem is that it’s Spencer’s room too.

Someone brought a guitar and left it behind. Brendon has been playing with it, hitting random notes here and there tuning it to his satisfaction but not playing anything.

He can feel Spencer’s eyes on him; they’ve been on him since he picked up the guitar. Brendon thinks that may be the reason he can’t bring himself to play.

Jonathan finally notices Brendon strumming the guitar and twists his body so he can see Brendon. “Urie, Urie.” Brendon ignores him. “Bden, Bden.” Jonathan is insistent. “Brendon Boyd Urie.” Brendon looks up to glare at Jonathan who is smiling.

“Play me a song.” He demands.

“No.”

“Please, it’ll cheer up my wounded spirit.” And behind his fake pout, Brendon can see the real hurt and disappointment in his eyes. He sighs and figures the least he can do is try to cheer up his friend.

“Fine.” He agrees and tries to ignore the way Spencer is sitting straighter on the couch his attention now completely on Brendon.

Brendon stands from the floor and sits on the bed where Sasha and Jonathan are still lying down. “What should I play?” Jonathan shrugs. “I, okay.” Brendon says.

His fingers start picking at the strings, random notes play before his hands decide on a song and he starts playing. Brendon is sure, no one is more surprised than he is when the words form and leave his lips.

“Allow me to exaggerate a memory or two. Where summer’s lasted longer than, longer than we do. Where nothing really mattered except for me to be with you. But in time we all forgot and we all grew.” And this is so familiar it comes to him naturally, easily, like breathing.

“And by the time your father’s heard of all the wrong you’ve done, then I’m putting out the lantern find your own way back home.” Brendon sings. He can feel how his body relaxes the more he keeps playing. He closes his eyes and lets the familiarity of playing take over him.

“I’ll write it all across the wall before by job is done and I’ll even have the courtesy of admitting I was wrong as the final words before I’m dead and gone.” He can feel Jonathan shift behind him. His aware of Jonathan’s strong arms wrapping around him, the embrace does not break his concentration. Jonathan rests his head on his shoulder his lips almost touching his neck.

“And I’ve never been more scared to be alone.” Jonathan gives him a quick little squeeze. Brendon can feel his smile on his collar bone. “If love is not enough to put my enemies to sleep then I’m putting out the lantern find your own way back home.” The song ends.

Jonathan lifts his head from Brendon’s shoulder and lets him go. Brendon turns to face him. “That’s it isn’t it? This is your real calling.” It’s a statement rather than a question.

“Yeah it is.” Spencer answers. Brendon whips his head around so fast he’s sure he just got whip lash. Apparently, sometime during his song, Spencer got up from his spot on the couch to sit on the bed across from Brendon.

Spencer is looking at Brendon the way he used to look at Brendon. It’s the same way that Jon and Ryan used to look at Brendon, the way that was just too much for him.

“Spencer.” He says and it comes out harsher than he means too.

They have a stare off. Brendon isn’t Ryan and he can’t do the mind talk Spencer and Ryan do, but he can tell Spencer is anxious and a little bit angry. He gives Brendon this look as if wanting him to admit something. Brendon holds his own and soon enough Spencer averts his eyes. Brendon pretends not to notice the sadness in Spencer’s face.

“I’m gonna crash, later. “ Spencer says to the room in general before stepping out of the room.

The entire room is silent once Spencer closes the door. Brendon stares helplessly at the door.

Spencer’s departure is like a cue for the remaining people who don’t sleep in the room to leave. They say good night and give Brendon awkward looks that he doesn’t notice.

When the last of the guests leaves Brendon still stares at the door.

“Brendon come with me please.” Jonathan says taking pity on him.

He’s moving on auto pilot he lets Jonathan grab him by the wrist and pull him up from his sitting position. They’re almost at the door; Jonathan actually has the door knob in hand when Sasha speaks up.

“Hey Brendon.”

Brendon turns his head to face Sasha. Sasha takes a deep breath looks away before he faces Brendon again.

“I don’t presume to know what’s going on but just know that the things that come harder in life are the ones worth having and fighting to keep.” He shrugs and looks uncomfortable, Jonathan’s hand tightens on his wrist; it’s a little uncomfortable.

The only response Brendon gives Sasha is a small nod. Jonathan waits a few more seconds before turning the knob and opening the door.

Beijing nights are like Beijing days muggy and hot but with less light. And really that’s not fair and Brendon knows it, but he’s just not in the mood to appreciate the beauty of the foreign city.

“Where are we going?” He finally thinks to ask after a few minutes of walking.

“For a walk.” Is all Jonathan says. Brendon is not in the mood to argue so he just goes along with whatever his friend has planned.

The streets are still crowded despite the late hour. Every time Brendon sees a couple holding hands his hand twitches, but he’s glad Jonathan let his hand go a while back. He tries not to think that the only hand he wants entwined with his is Spencer’s.

They finally wonder into what seems to be a park. Jonathan spots a bench and grabs Brendon’s hand again; he skips to the bench dragging Brendon behind him.

They sit in silence. “People watching is fun,” Jonathan states.

“Jonathan,” Brendon says and even to himself he sounds tired.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to but it really helps if you do.” Jonathan chuckles spotting two kids trying to catch their dog by stepping on the trailing leash and missing every time.

“I don’t say this to be a jerk.” Jonathan turns on the bench to face Brendon. “I don’t know the details of your situation with Spencer but I know that you’re pretty much on your own right now and if you need someone to just listen to you I’m here Brendon.”

Brendon opens his mouth to say he appreciates the offer and he really does, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. And then he thinks about what Jonathan just said, he is pretty much on his own and he hasn’t talked to anyone about it at all and now he has this incredible urge to just purge everything from his mind.

He takes a deep breath and he ends up telling Jonathan everything. He tells him how this job was only a temporary thing, something he and Spencer got into to pay the bills while they all worked on their music.

“Who’s us all?’ Jonathan asks.

“There’s me and Spencer of course and Jon Walker, you’d like Jon he’s awesome.” Brendon makes sure to tell Jonathan. “And Ryan, Spencer’s best friend and when I say best friend it’s a poor word, they’re like telepathic twins. They have entire conversation with just one look which is awesome.”

Except for how now Spencer has no telepathic conversation with anyone because Ryan’s still in
Vegas. This thought makes him sad and reminds him of the situation they’re in.

“Spencer, Jon and Ryan they’re all really talented, but they were all looking at me like I was their anchor the thing that would take them to the next level. They were putting all their eggs in one basket so to speak.” Brendon sighs.

“And I can’t be that person I can’t be the person they expect to carry all their dreams and make them a reality.” The night is becoming quieter with every minute it gets later or earlier.

“Why not?” Jonathan asks his tone conveying his confusion.

“Because I can barely be strong enough for myself let alone three more people.” Brendon mumbles.

Jonathan wants to argue that point but decides to let Brendon finish talking first.

“So when this job came up I took it. I took the opportunity to pull away. The only hitch in the plan was Spencer; he was not supposed to follow me here.”

“You abandoned your friends.” The accusation is clear in his tone. “Then what’s the difference if you had let them down later?”

“That may be true but trust me the disappointment later on would have been harder. They can find a new lead singer or Ryan can sing they’ll be fine as soon as Spencer goes back home.” The thought of Spencer not being with him really makes his heart ache but that’s just another sacrifice he has to make.

“You are strong enough Brendon you are and that’s why Spencer followed you here. You’re strong enough but what you also are is afraid and you shouldn’t be. Do you really think Spencer would have followed you here if he thought you weren’t able to deliver what they were asking of you?” It sounds so simple specially when said by another person, but it can’t be that simple. Can it?

They’re silent after that, they sit Jonathan does his people watching for a few more minutes before they start to head back.

```````````````````
When Brendon gets back to his room it’s with a lot of dread. Inside the room Spencer is sitting in one of the couches but stands up the second Brendon is through the door.

“I need you to listen to me just listen please.” Brendon says before Spencer has the chance to say anything. And much to his surprise Spencer actually acquiesces to his request.

“I’m really glad you’re here with me.” The guarded look Spencer had been wearing disappears; he smiles and takes a step towards Brendon.

Brendon shakes his head bringing his hand up signaling Spencer to stop; he isn’t quiet finished.

“I’m really glad you’re here with me, but you need to go home. Ryan and Jon need you more than I do and it’s selfish of me to want to keep you here when we both know that you belong with them.” Brendon says in a rush of breath.

Spencer scoffs he actually scoffs. “What makes you think I’m not exactly where I want to be? What? All of a sudden Spencer is easily manipulated and swayed and being kept against his will?’ His voice is harsh but Brendon can still hear the hurt beneath.

Brendon is so emotionally exhausted he just wants what’s best for Spencer. “Then what the fuck Spencer,” he says running a shaky hand through his hair.

“What happens after we leave here and I go back to working at the gym? Are you going to follow me back there too? You can’t fucking do this to yourself. You and I both know this isn’t what you want to be doing, this isn’t what you’re meant to be doing.” Brendon says his voice soft.

“Only I get to decide when, where and why I am.” Spencer insists and he still sounds angry.

And Brendon knew this is what was going to happen Spencer is always stubborn. Brendon sighs and runs a hand through his hair again.

“Just go home Spence, go back where you belong.” Brendon pleads now, all fight having left him. The thought that Spencer will just follow him wherever he goes terrifies him, he could never live with himself if he were responsible for that, for destroying Spencer’s dreams.

“And are you going to tell me that you belong here that this is where you want to be?” Spencer asks quietly.

“That doesn’t matter Spencer I didn’t leave anything behind I have no one back home who would miss me,” Brendon insists. “You’re the one who left your family and your best friend I know Ryan would”

“Fuck Ryan Brendon. I wanna fucking be here because you’re here. And when you decide to go home, I’ll be right beside you but not before so don’t ask me to do that.” Spencer says and takes a step closer to Brendon.

Brendon blinks and tries to make sense of what Spencer just said, but his brain seems to have gone on vacation. “What? Why would you do that?” He asks. Spencer hates how Brendon always believes he doesn’t deserve to be happy, or have what he wants.

“You moron. It’s for the same reason you don’t want me here. You can’t stand to see me do something I don’t really want to do. What makes you think I would let you do the same thing? Do you really think I could stand back and just let you waste your talents and let your dreams die?” Spencer takes another step towards Brendon.

“Spencer.”

“And maybe because I’m kind of in love with you.” Spencer says cutting Brendon off. Brendon looks up sharply.

“Don’t.” Brendon says shaking his head. “Don’t. You shouldn’t say that if you’re just trying to get me to go back with you.” Brendon sounds sad but maybe a little hopeful too.

“Don’t you think I would have already done that if I thought it would work?” Spencer’s voice is low almost a whisper but Brendon can hear him perfectly because suddenly Spencer is right in front of him.

“Brendon.” Spencer, gently, cradles Brendon’s face in the palm of his hands. “I don’t want to be anywhere that you’re not.”

“Spencer you can’t do this you can’t wait for me to change my mind and I.” Brendon takes Spencer’s hands from his face and holds them in his. “I can’t be the person you guys need me to be. I can’t be the beacon Ryan sets all his hopes on, that you set all your hopes on. I’m not strong enough.”

And suddenly their conversation about Jonathan makes more sense. Brendon believes he can’t be the Jonathan Horton to their band, but that’s okay because no one would expect him to be.

“Brendon you are so much more than you give yourself credit for.” Spencer says and shifts their hands so their fingers intertwine.

Brendon lets Spencer’s words really sink in and he thinks about what Jonathan said to him earlier. Jonathan was right Spencer is pretty smart he wouldn’t tolerate Brendon if he truly believed Brendon was a waste of time.

“Brendon I don’t know how you don’t believe you’re strong enough. You left your friends, your family, you life to pursue a dream you believed, so strongly, you could make come true.” Spencer says not without a little pride in his voice.

“Leaving the Mormon life wasn’t that hard.” Brendon mumbles.

“Don’t sell yourself short. I don’t think I could have done it and I know for sure Ryan wouldn’t either,” Spencer says, squeezing Brendon’s hands reassuringly.

“Spencer that’s different.” Brendon insists and looks down at the floor. Spencer gives his hand another squeeze, Brendon looks up.

“It’s not, not really. When you did that we knew, we knew we’d make it.” Spencer sounds so honest that Brendon can’t help but believe him.

“We all had the same dream Brendon, but it took you believing in it hard enough to make us see it could be a reality. That’s why we looked at you like our beacon of hope not because we wanted or expected you to carry our dream but because looking at you made us believe what you had already made your reality. We were in awe.” Spencer confesses. He hopes Brendon believes him because there is no way he’s leaving Beijing without him.

“But if you don’t think you can be strong enough for yourself I can be strong for you. If you let me, because this isn’t a one way street, and maybe we did scare you off a little but that wasn’t our intention it’s just that do you know how long we were waiting for you.” When he says you he really means Brendon because he’s positive no one else would do.

Maybe they all know what they’re talking about. Half the time Brendon doesn’t think he can be strong for himself but if Spencer is there with him than maybe he can be, maybe he can be that person that the band needs, that Spencer needs him to be as long as Spencer is there with him.

“Please come back home? Please come back with me?” Spencer asks.

In a last desperate move Spencer let’s go of Brendon’s left hand to dig into his pockets, pulling out his phone he hits a few buttons and shows Brendon the screen.

There in little letter it’s a message from Ryan it simply reads; just bring him home Spence, even if its not 4 the band. Brendon’s eyes are wide and he sucks in a surprised breath.

Spencer scrolls down a few messages and shows him one from Jon, it looks like a reply to a previous message; Nah bden’s famly :) can’t live wit him cant/wont live w/out him…ask me wat time it is Spence : )

It has been a month since Brendon has been in Beijing; it has been a month since he’s had Spencer next to him but so far away, it’s been a month since Brendon has kept all his feeling inside. He can’t hold it in anymore and slowly tears flood his yes and he cries.

He cries because he sometimes misses his family. He cries because he remembers the way Ryan looked at him when he told him he was quitting the band. He cries because Jon had just smiled and hugged him and he cries because those guys are his family now. And just like a real family they’ll still take him back even after he’s fucked up, even if it’s not in their terms.

Spencer wraps him in his arms and Brendon just lets himself melt into Spencer warmth and strength. Spencer guides him to the bed and lies silently spooning him. Spencer can’t sing to save his life but Brendon can feel the vibrations of his humming against his back and slowly he falls asleep.

````````````````
“Hi.” Brendon says when he opens his eyes. He looks sleepy, his hair rumpled and he is very warm. Spencer thinks this is the way he wants to wake up for the rest of his life.

He leans forward and kisses Brendon’s cheek his arms are around Brendon and it’s warm in the room but he can’t bring himself to let go. Besides Brendon isn’t complaining he actually wiggles closer to Spencer.

For a second Spencer thinks Brendon is going back to sleep judging by his closed eyes lids, but Brendon takes a deep breath and opens his eyes.

“Okay.” He says quietly.

“Okay?” Spencer parrots. He hopes Brendon means what the thinks he means.

“Okay.” Brendon repeats and this time he follows the words with a big smile full of happiness and hope.

“Okay.” Spencer repeats this time with affirmation. He hugs Brendon tighter to him. He pulls back and Brendon is still smiling and really he can’t help it when he leans forwards and takes Brendon’s lips with his.

They kiss lazily with no urgency like they have all the time in the world and maybe they really do. Brendon pulls back with a sigh and buries his face in Spencer’s shoulder.

“I miss you.” He whispers. Spencer thinks he may not have meant to hear that but he did.

The silence is broken by Fall Out Boy’s “Saturday”. Brendon groans Spencer gives him a quick squeeze.

“Aren’t you going to answer?” Brendon asks after the verse starts to play again.

Spencer shakes his head. “We can talk to them later.” He says.

“Ryan’s going to kill me when we get back isn’t he?” Brendon asks, secretly pleased that Spencer chose to postpone Ryan’s call.

“Nah, he’s just going to abuse you lightly. There may be girly slaps involved and hysterical emotiveness.” Spencer informs him with a straight face.

“Is there any other kind when it comes to Ryan?” Brendon asks in a deadpan. Spencer laughs.

“Maybe we can just stay here. We can form a duet and sing Backstreet Boy songs at karaoke bars.” Brendon says hopefully.

Spencer hmm’s. “Yeah that sounds pretty good, but what about Jon, Jon would be sad.”

“Well we can’t have that.” Brendon says, picturing a sad Jon petting his little cat.

“No, no we can’t,” Spencer agrees.

“Alright,” Brendon sighs dramatically. “For the awesomeness that is Jon Walker, I shall face the scorn of one Ryan Ross.”

“One?” Spencer asks holding back laughter.

“Yes, Spencer Smith. One Ryan Ross is all I can ever handle.” This time Spencer does laugh.

He gives Brendon a quick kiss. “It won’t be that bad I promise Ryan just pretends to be an asshole.”

“He isn’t one in real life right?” Brendon finishes for him.

“Right,” Spencer agrees and smiles and maybe his face is stuck that way now. But he can’t help it, Brendon is coming home with him and even if Brendon still didn’t want to do the band Spencer wouldn’t care, the fact that Brendon will be with him is just face-smile-stuck worthy.

“Hey Spence?” Brendon voice is low. He bites his lip and looks at Spencer. “You know how you said you’re here because maybe you’re in love with me a little.” Spencer can feel his heart pounding as he nods. “Well I might be in love with you a little too, actually a lot.”

And its official his face is so staying stuck with a permanent smile. Ryan’s lucky he can’t write or sing for shit because their songs would be full of love, rainbows, and puppies and sunshine just to show how he feels. But since he can’t be creative like that he just wraps Brendon in his arms and kisses him hoping to convey how he feels.

He thinks he might have succeeded when Brendon smiles into the kiss and mumbles, “I’m going to write and sing songs about pretty colors and ice cream.” Spencer laughs; yep their band is so screwed.

END

fic: the poets are just kids who didn't make it (brendon/spencer)

2008-09-09T23:13:34Z

Title: The Poets Are Just Kids Who Didn’t Make It
Author: cardel
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brendon/Spencer (tiny, tiny hints of Jonathan Horton/Alexander Artemev)
POV: 3rd
Summary: Completely AU. Featuring the Olympics, a sad Brendon, who can do loops, and a stubborn Spencer who is just trying to get Brendon to come home.
Word Count:10,478
Disclaimer: Sadly enough they’re not mine and this is just a work of fiction : (
Author Notes: umm I don’t even know, the Olympics have been over for a while but I just, now, had time to post this. This is completely crazy and unbeta-ed so read at your own discretion and let me know how you liked it.

xposted to slashatthedisco and bandslashmania</lj>

“Urie, Urie, Urie! You should totally sing me a song Urie,” Jonathan says and giggles a little because he is so high on team spirit that everything is just that funny.

Spencer rolls his eyes as he stretches Raj’s leg a little too hard. “Ow.” The gymnast murmurs. Spencer gives him an apologetic smile.

“Yeah no,” Brendon says his fingers digging circles into Jonathan’s tense back.

“What does a guy have to do around here to get some tunes?” He groans out loving the feeling of his muscles loosening under expert hands.

“How about win a medal?” Brendon says jokingly.

And it’s like a tidal wave of energy is physically moving through the room. Spencer looks up to a blur of motion that is Jonathan Horton, damn flexible gymnasts.

Jonathan sits up on the massage table so quickly he almost knocks Brendon down, but his quick reflexes come into play and he’s got Brendon securely between his legs, his arms crushing Brendon to him.

And it’s sort of funny; because they’re both tiny but Jonathan’s tinier, muscular, frame completely envelopes Brendon’s tiny, slim one. Or it would be funny if Spencer didn’t feel a surge of jealousy at the sight of the two embracing.

Jonathan is oblivious and cheering. “Dude we totally did, we won a medal that’s just so, so fucking awesome.” He says his voice sounds amazed and his eyes sparkle with pride. He squeezes Brendon tighter. His other teammates smile tiredly at his enthusiasm.

“Yeah, you know what else is awesome? Breathing.” Jonathan laughs and gives Brendon a monkey hug, legs around his tiny hips and everything.

Someone’s grips fly through the air; they hit Jonathan on the head. Jonathan turns his face and sticks his tongue out at the culprit, Raj.

And seriously Raj is happy he really is, but Spencer’s death glare is scary even if it’s being directed at Jonathan’s limbs, the subsequent tightening of Spencer’s hands is being directed at his legs and seriously that’s so not awesome. Especially since he knows the longer Jonathan’s arms stay around Brendon the tighter Spencer’s hands get on his legs.

“Really let the kid breathe,” he says desperately, Brendon nods in agreement.

Spencer doesn’t know it but he has a set number in his mind. And if that kid doesn’t let go of Brendon when he counts up to that set number he is going to do it for him.

It’s like magic because as soon as Jonathan’s limbs are back to his person, Spencer’s hands loosen and he begins to stretch and loosen Raj’s leg muscles properly. Raj sighs in relief.

“Fine, fine kill my thunder.” Brendon laughs and then huffs when his hands return to Jonathan’s back.

“Great. You just undid all my hard work.” He grunts but there is a smile on his lips.

“Ow.”

“Yeah that’s right. I have to do this properly because I don’t want you to coming to me, crying, in two hours when all your muscles are cramping up.” Brendon threatens even though they all know he’s a big softie and he would just help Jonathan anyway.

Jonathan knows this through experience. “Whatever Urie you know you love me.” And the confidence in his voice makes Spencer’s hands tighten a little more than necessary, is this kid seriously flirting with Brendon.

“Uh huh, now shut up and let me do this so you can abuse your body again at practice tomorrow.”

“The price I have to pay.” Jonathan says with a content sigh.

“Was it worth it?” And Brendon already knows the answer to that.

“Your hands are so worth it Bden.” Jonathan groans. “The medal is a nice bonus.” Brendon chuckles.

God, this kid really is flirting with Brendon. Spencer’s hands tighten more on Raj and he’s so completely caught up in his fit of jealousy he doesn’t hear Raj groan in protest.

“Dude shut up and just relax,” Raj says desperately tossing a roll of tape at Jonathan’s head because Raj really, really likes his legs.

``````````````````
It’s early in the morning. Back home it is still yesterday afternoon. Brendon doesn’t like to think about time zones; they creep him out a little.

It’s like one day it was Monday and he was back home, then he hopped a, six-teen hour, flight to Beijing and it was Wednesday and that’s just like serious time travel. He lost a whole day and he doesn’t want to think about it or it’ll give him a headache.

Besides he can’t do much thinking when he’s flat on the floor his leg in Spencer’s hands. Spencer has his ankle and shin and helps Brendon warm up.

They do this every day, they help each other warm up before the guys come in and they have to start helping them with warm ups. Today will be a one-on-one all day. Only two of the guys qualified for the men’s individual all around and they’re the ones who will be practicing.

Spencer gives Brendon’s leg a pat and helps him up. They stand facing each other not saying a word.

Brendon remembers when things weren’t like this, when they would never shut up, they were always touching and laughing. He misses those days and Spencer. He opens his mouth to talk but Spencer’s phone is ringing.

Fall Out Boy plays loudly, Spencer’s eyes go wide and he turns to answer his phone.

His conversation is brief and he’s back to facing Brendon in no time.

“It was Ryan.” Spencer says. Brendon already knew that. Even though things with him and Spencer have changed Spencer and Ryan are still the same. Saturday is still Ryan’s assigned ringtone.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he says hi.” Brendon nods.

They are spared further talk when Alexander Artemev, nicknamed Sasha, shows up. Spencer immediately begins to work on him.

```````````````
Brendon wonders over to the high bar and starts checking equipment. He’s completely concentrating on his job and no his eyes don’t wonder over to Spencer at all. Okay maybe a little.

Though no one would blame him, Spencer is just so, Spencer. Brendon thinks it’s a little ridiculous how much he misses touching Spencer; he misses Spencer’s arms around him at night, misses the way their bodies get tangled together in the morning, he misses being able to touch Spencer at random almost as much as he misses Spencer touching him.

Spencer is right by him most of the time, but he may as well be miles away. Spencer should actually be miles away. He sighs and turns his head away from Spencer helping Sasha twist into impossible positions.

“You know if looks could get people naked; Spencer would be feeling pretty drafty right about now.”

Brendon is so startled by Jonathan that he actually lets out a very high pitched squeak. Jonathan, the heartless man that he is, laughs bending at the waist.

“Laugh it up. Just remember, I’m the one in charge of your sore muscles.” Brendon crosses his arms and doesn’t pout. Okay maybe he does pout, but only a little.

“Oh man, your face,” Jonathan chuckles one last time before facing Brendon. “Seriously though, I think you should go for it Brendon. I mean you guys aren’t fooling anyone. We all see the way you two look at each other.” He says with a smile.

The reason they’re not fooling anyone, Brendon thinks, is because they’re not trying to. They’re just, they’re just not doing anything because there is nothing to do, except for Spencer to maybe go back home.

Brendon doesn’t say any of this to Jonathan. Instead he faces the high bar, looks up, looks behind him to Jonathan and says “Hoist me up.” Jonathan complies.

```````````````````````
Spencer turns to look at Brendon at the exact moment Jonathan puts his hands on Brendon’s hips to help hoist him up onto the high bar. Spencer pulls a little too hard on Sasha’s shoulder. The gymnast chuckles and Spencer turns to face him.

“You know, you should probably tell him how you feel before you end up ripping somebody’s limbs off.” Sasha says as he takes his abused arm from Spencer’s grasp.

“I.” And Spencer swears he is not blushing.

“Or you know, before Raj starts running at the very mention of your name.” Sasha teases.

And yes, the warmth on Spencer’s face is definitely an indicative of a blush. “It’s not like that. Brendon and I we don’t.” Spencer shakes his head leaving the sentence unfinished.

“Sure.” Sasha sounds doubtful. “But just so you know, you have no real competition. So don’t believe everything you see.” He says and tosses his head back to Jonathan and Brendon, who has finished preparing the bar and seems to be starting a routine.

Sasha gives the pair another meaningful look. Spencer sighs, cocks his hip and crosses his arms. Sasha is not Ryan and that’s unfortunate for many reasons but mainly because Spencer can’t understand the telepathy the gymnast is trying to send him.

With a sigh of his own Sasha says, “Jonny is just a flirt all bark and absolutely no bite.” And there is an almost bitter tone in his voice which makes Spencer raise a brow.

“Spoken from experience?” He asks.

“Nope, I don’t have time for that kind of thing and neither does Jonathan.” Sasha replies quickly, a little too quickly.

Spencer doesn’t push the subject instead he turns to watch Brendon on the high bar. Brendon does some simple releases, a few hand stands and connecting combos that all the guys on the gymnastics team can do in their sleep.

His execution however is clean, his body perfect; toes pointing, legs together. He goes around once, twice, releases the bar and goes into a double back dismount. He sticks the landing throwing his arms up.

“Wow,” Sasha whispers his voice sounds awed. “Why didn’t he make this his career?”

“Not his calling.” Is all Spencer offers.

`````````````````
As soon as Brendon’s feet stick the landing and he straightens up, Jonathan is right in his face. He’s looking at Brendon as if he were an amazing specimen. Brendon just gives him a smile.

“Wow, just wow Bden. With the proper coaching you could totally be in my place.”

Brendon blushes and shakes his head. “Nah that’s not really my thing.”

“Less competition for me.” Jonathan says with a shrug of his shoulders. He walks over to the high bar. “Hoist me up.”

“Um no. The only place you’re going, is to warm up,” Brendon states.

“Oh right. I can’t believe I forgot. You’re routine just got me really pumped up, I’ve never seen anyone with no formal training do the basics so perfectly,” Jonathan says his voice excited, like a kid who got a good toy for Christmas.

“What can I say, I’m multi talented.” Brendon says giving him another one of his smiles.

“So what is your thing? Because you can’t tell me it’s being a sport’s masseur.” Jonathan asks, his tone challenging Brendon to lie to him.

“No it’s not,” he pauses. “I don’t know what my thing is. I guess, I’m still looking,” he says and he has to fight with every muscle in his body to stop his head from turning to look at Spencer.

When they’re halfway through warm-ups Brendon bites his lip and just has to ask. “So are we that obvious?” He asks nodding his head slightly to where Spencer is.

Jonathan looks over at Spencer and Sasha and shrugs. “I’m not sure, maybe. My best friend is gay and you’re not best friends with a gay guy all your life and not pick up some gaydar. But let me tell you, you and Spencer are so obvious, even the most dense person in the planet could see the lovey dovey looks you guys send each other.”

Brendon bites his lip and looks away from Jonathan who is now frowning.

“That’s not a bad thing Brendon, the way he looks at you, it’s so. I’ve never looked at anyone that way and I hope one day I will and that someone will look at me that way too. What you two have is special; whatever happened, and you can’t tell there wasn’t something there before, you should try to fix it.” Jonathan finishes quietly.

And who knew this kid could be so perceptive when Brendon thought all he did was eat, sleep and gymnastics not necessarily in that order. The rest of warm-ups pass in silence, when the coaches arrive Brendon leaves telling Jonathan he’ll see him in the morning before competition.

``````````````
It’s the day of competition, it’s go time, it’s go time and Brendon can see how unfocused Jonathan is. Pretty soon he’s going to have to go into the stands so he figures he may as well try to see what is going on with Jonathan.

As he nears the gymnast he can almost feel the vibrations of his nervous energy through the air. Brendon wonders if that’s what Ryan meant when he used to tell him he could light a light bulb by just standing near it.

“Hey you’re tight. Loosen up.” And really these kids are so hardcore conditioned that Jonathan immediately begins to loosen his body at the command.

“Thanks.” He mumbles. Brendon frowns.

“I, yeah.” He takes a deep breath. “It’s just this is all so crazy. Do you know how lucky we are to be here?” The “we” refers to him and Sasha. “How lucky I am to be here?” This is not good.

The men’s gymnastics individual all-around is one of the most recognized competitions in the world of gymnastics. And to, even, qualify the athletes scores have to be pretty damn impressive.

So Brendon’s not just trying to stroke Jonathan’s ego when he says, “Hey, hey none of that, you and Sasha, you guys, earned your places here. Luck had nothing to do with it. It was your hard work.”

Jonathan nods and looks up and fixes his gaze over Brendon’s shoulder. “Yeah. Sasha’s in a different group”.

And there in lay the problem. Brendon sighs; he knows there is no more he can do to help Jonathan snap out of his funk.

“You earned this,” Brendon repeats and would add, all on your own, but it would be a lie and Jonathan would know it was a lie.

The gymnast nods at him. Brendon gives him a hug and wishes him good luck before heading to his seat.

``````````````````
Spencer’s sees Brendon making his way to their seats and waves him over. He smiles when Brendon sits down, in turn Brendon gives him a small upturn of his lips. Spencer frowns.

“Everything okay?” And all of sudden Spencer forgets their previous etiquette and reaches up to rub the tension in Brendon’s shoulders.

Brendon tenses but quickly melts into Spencer’s hand and leans into the touch.

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” A small sigh escapes his lips and he fights to keep his eyes open. Spencer’s hand feels so good. And that should be a sign to break the touch, to keep his distance but he can’t bring himself to care too much at the moment.

“Is it Jonathan?” Spencer asks and he congratulates himself for keeping his tone completely conversational as if touching Brendon isn’t affecting him at all.

“Yeah.” Brendon doesn’t elaborate further. Spencer will see soon enough.

It’s the third rotation and Spencer is now sure there is something wrong with Jonathan. Two days ago the kid, almost single handedly, was responsible for the team’s success.

He had been the moral support for the men’s gymnastics team. He had cheered on his teammates, discouraged dwelling on missteps or a small stumble, encouraged/demanded everyone to give their best, he lead through example and they came away with a well earned bronze medal.

Today it’s a completely different story. Jonathan Horton is struggling with every single one of his routines and that just doesn’t make sense.

Spencer turns to Brendon to ask him if he knows what is wrong with the young gymnast but Brendon has already heard the unspoken question. “I think. I think it’s because Sasha’s in a different group.”

“You think it’s because of Sasha?” If Spencer sounds surprised, it’s understandable, he had no idea Sasha meant that much to Jonathan.

“Not like that.” Brendon continues and now Spencer really thinks Brendon can read his mind, the thought makes him want to smile.

“I think he would be the same if it was any of the other guys and they were on a different group.” Brendon tries to explain and even to himself he sounds confused as if he’s putting the answer together from puzzle pieces belonging to different pictures.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Spencer admits, his hand still on Brendon’s, now relaxed, shoulder.

“Jonathan, he thrives in team competitions, individual competitions are difficult for him. He needs to be needed to be strong; he needs to be strong for others so he can be strong for himself.” Brendon’s eyes are now locked with Spencer’s.

“Not many people can do that, Spencer.” Brendon speaks quietly and he’s still giving Spencer this intense look.

Spencer finally removes his hand from Brendon’s shoulder. Brendon averts his eyes to the floor and then back to watch the match.

There is an awful twist in Spencer’s stomach. He feels like he just missed something pretty important just now.

The rest of the game they watch in silence and it’s no surprise to either of them when Jonathan places higher than Sasha and neither place for a medal.

`````````````````
It’s still early when Brendon gets back to his hotel room, the one he shares with Spencer, luckily though, Spencer is still out.

Brendon grabs a quick shower and is just pulling up his jeans when he hears his phone ring. Aladdin’s “A Whole New World” plays cheerfully through the door. Brendon’s eyes go wide and a crazy grin appears on his face, only one person is assigned to that ringtone.

He throws the bathroom door open, not even bothering to button up his pants. He lunges himself down onto his bed, where he had dropped his phone earlier.

“Jonathan Walker, the love of my life.” He answers cheerfully, making himself comfortable on the bed. His hair is still dripping wet and he knows his pillow will be damp later but he doesn’t care. Jon Walker is on the phone and he’ll deal with a soggy pillow any day of the week for him.

“Brendon Urie, I know I’m pretty awesome, but you gotta get over me dude. Unrequited love is not healthy.” Jon’s voice sounds amused. Brendon knows he’s miles and miles and a whole ocean away but if he closes his eyes he can pretend Jon’s right next to him giving him a lazy smile.

“I don’t care what you say Jon. I’ll wait for you. I’m nothing but patient. You’ll see the err of your ways soon enough,” Brendon says his eyes closed.

Jon is moving in the background; Brendon can hear rustling. He’s probably moving things around trying to find clean clothes. “But Bden what about Cassie?”

“Hey she’s a nice, smart, girl she knows she has to share the awesomeness that is you.” Brendon giggles.

After all that’s happened he is so glad he and Jon can still talk like this. He is so thankful Jon is not mad at him but maybe, most of all, he’s glad Jon is still back in Chicago where he belongs.

“Yeah she is. Okay, your mind powers have convinced me we’re getting married when you come back,” he says.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa there, I’m too young to get married babe. You’re just moving too fast for me. How about we give each other some space?” Jon laughs over the line and despite the miles and miles and the ocean, the sound is just as warm as ever and for the first time in a while Brendon feels a true smile on his face.

“Tease,” Jon accuses. “Oh hey, hey I have a secret to tell you.” Jon giggles, he actually giggles and Brendon knows this is not going to be good.

“I’m listening.”

“So right now it’s like Wednesday eleven am in Beijing.” Brendon just mmm’s because he already knew that and waits for Jon to get to the secret telling part. “And okay, okay, are you ready for this?” He says and pauses for dramatic effect. Brendon is still smiling his eyes are still closed.

“It is ten pm, Tuesday night here. Brendon what the fuck? You’re like in the future.” Jon is laughing.

Brendon groans and seriously Jon Walker is so not awesome right now. “Jon Walker you suck so much right now.” Brendon hates time zones. It shouldn’t be possible to be living in a different day than Jon.

“No, no listen this is awesome Brendon Urie. You have time travel superpowers and you didn’t share. I don’t know what you’re planning but it’s probably world domination you evil master mind. It’s like that cartoon.” Jon pauses; he’s trying to remember the name to the show.

Brendon is laughing and he hears Jon say. “So what are we doing today Brain?” Jon says he’s voice kind of sounds like Pinky but for the cracking towards the end.

“What we do everyday Pinky; try and take over the world.” Brendon says in his best Brain voice, he even throws in a cackle at the end.

“I am no one’s Pinky.” Jon says pretending to be insulted. “Hey Spencer can be your Pinky.”

Brendon raises an eyebrow and then just bursts out laughing. The very picture of Spencer as Pinky is just too funny. Jon joins him in his laughter. He’s probably thinking the same thing.

“Yeah maybe not. I’ve changed my mind; you can be Pinky to Spencer’s Brain.” Jon says matter-of-fact.

That makes sense, if there was a person version of the Brain, Spencer would be it, can’t argue with that. “Can’t argue with that.” Brendon tells Jon.

“Yes I see it now, Spencer’s the one with the time travel powers and you, you’re just a Spence nabbing master mind.” And just like that the feeling of happiness leaves Brendon. Jon goes deadly silent on the other end of the line, realizing what he just said.

“Brendon,” he starts his voice worried.

“I didn’t.” Brendon cuts him off. “I wouldn’t have. I’d never ask him to.” Brendon sits up on the bed his eyes are open now and he can feel the sting of tears behind his eyes. And he doesn’t know how to get the words he wants to say out.

“Brendon we know. Spencer is his own person. No one is blaming you.” Jon says his voice sounds all wrong because he sounds sad and Jon Walker should never ever sound sad and Brendon really hates himself at the moment.

“Are you sure about that?” He asks rubbing his eyes refusing to let the tears come.

“Yes I’m sure. Ryan just pretends to be an asshole he’s not really one in real life.” He says trying to lighten the mood.

It’s not working; Brendon can’t even bring himself to fake a laugh for Jon. “I just really wish Spence had.” He cuts himself off.

“We miss you guys.” Jon says. Brendon nods even though he knows Jon won’t be able to see.

He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his still wet hair. “I just really wish he’d.” Spencer chooses that moment to come back. He closes the door behind him, sees Brendon on the phone and gives him a small smile. “Stayed home,” Brendon finishes in a whisper so only Jon can hear.

“Did he just walk in?” Jon asks. Brendon thinks he must have heard the door close.

“Yeah,” he replies.

“Okay tell him I say hi. I’ll see ya when you come back, whenever that is. And Brendon,” Jon pauses, Brendon hmm’s in response. “Love ya, no matter what.” Jon assures him, he sounds so honest Brendon can’t help but believe him and that makes things almost worse.

“Yeah, me too,” Brendon replies and hangs up.

Brendon sits on his bed quietly his head bowed, chin almost touching his chest. He feels, more than sees, Spencer come closer.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asks.

“Yeah, yeah.” He looks up and tries to smile. “That was Jon, he says hi.”

Spencer gives him a real smile the one that has the ability to brighten rooms, make girls swoon and makes Brendon feel something in his chest twist painfully with longing.

“He called me earlier too. I should have warned you. He’s trying to mind- fuck us with his theories about time travel.” He finishes and he still has that smile on his face. Brendon can’t help but smile back and as much as he hates that Spencer followed him here, he is secretly glad to have Spencer with him.

Brendon is still smiling when he stands from the bed. Spencer can’t help but follow the fluid movement. Usually, Brendon is an uncoordinated mess but that’s only when he’s brimming with energy, right now Brendon seems tired.

There are water droplets running down Brendon’s hair. Spencer’s eyes follow the drop and oh, oh Brendon is fresh from the shower. And all of a sudden Spencer is all too aware of how close he’s standing to Brendon, of how Brendon is still shirtless and his pants aren’t even buttoned.

It seems Brendon has noticed their proximity; he’s in the process of taking a step back when Spencer’s hand decides to reach up and intercept a water droplet running down Brendon’s abdomen. He makes contact, Brendon sucks in a breath.

Under his fingertips, Spencer can feel Brendon’s muscles tense and relax. The simple touch shouldn’t send a wave of desire to course through his body, but it does and it’s been so long since he has touched Brendon like this.

“Spencer.” Brendon whispers. Spencer turns his gaze to Brendon expecting him to move away, much to his surprise; Brendon takes a step towards him.

There is a question in Brendon’s eyes, a silent plea. Spencer has never been able to deny Brendon anything he wants, delay yes, deny never.

When Brendon steps forward again making Spencer’s fingertip-touch become a full touch; palm flat on Brendon’s stomach, that’s all the invitation Spencer needs.

Their mouths find each other, Spencer loves the way he has to tilt his head down and Brendon has to stand on his toes to kiss him properly. He wraps a possessive arm around Brendon pulling him closer and God he’s missed this so much.

Brendon’s mouth on his is hot and urgent, seeking entrance and plundering Spencer’s mouth. His hands are everywhere, unbuttoning Spencer pants and trying to pull his shirt up and off all at the same time. He makes a frustrated sound when his actions don’t succeed.

In different circumstances Spencer would have found Brendon’s attempts funny, though not now. This feels too sudden and Spencer feels that if he lets Brendon think about what they’re doing, for one second, Brendon’s going to pull back and say it’s a bad idea. Spencer always respects Brendon’s wishes but being together always feels right and anything else just doesn’t.

With that in mind Spencer gives Brendon a long lingering kiss that leaves Brendon clinging to Spencer arms, looking confused when Spencer pulls away to shed his clothes. And really it should be a world record because his clothes are off in less time than it takes Brendon to blink.

The speed in which Brendon attaches his lips back to Spencer’s should also be a world record. Spencer pulls down Brendon’s jeans and with some clever wiggling from Brendon his jeans are around his ankles and he kicks them off.

They’re still kissing when Spencer backs Brendon the short distance to the bed. Brendon sits on the bed and scoots back; Spencer’s following not leaving an inch of space between them.

Spencer pushes Brendon down on the bed and starts kissing his neck sucking lightly, Brendon moans and arch up into him. Spencer can feel how hard Brendon is and grinds down against him. Brendon’s skin is hot and starting to sweat a little, Spencer can smell the kind of soap he used and inhales deeply.

“Spencer.” Brendon moans. His hand is between their bodies and he takes Spencer in his hand giving him a firm stroke; he must feel the urgency too. Brendon locks eyes with Spencer licks his lips and runs his thumb over the head of Spencer’s cock.

From that point on is a flurry of movements. Brendon points to his bedside table and Spencer nods retrieving the condom and lube. There’s some lube gone from the tube and Spencer can just picture Brendon touching himself at night when Spencer’s just a few feet away.

Someone makes a desperate groan, Spencer’s pretty sure it’s him but he could care less. Brendon is beneath him arching up spreading his legs giving Spencer more room. By the time Spencer has two lubed fingers in Brendon; Brendon is panting and pushing back into him.

Spencer’s getting ready to add a third finger, because Brendon is still so fucking tight, when Brendon shakes his head.

“No. No. No more.” Spencer freezes above Brendon and he feels his mouth go dry, Brendon wants to stop?

Before he can voice his thoughts Brendon sits up, grabs Spencer by the shoulders and kisses him opened mouth with tongue. Spencer is too surprised to do anything but kiss back. He feels the world tilting on its sides and next thing he knows he’s on his back with Brendon straddling him.

His hands automatically go to Brendon’s hips and they grind into each other. Brendon groans and pulls back enough to slide the condom on Spencer. Spencer helps Brendon guide himself and from there on its Brendon’s show.

Brendon breaths deeply his eyes are open and lock with Spencer’s. They’re eyes go the same width when the head of Spencer’s cock pushes into Brendon. Brendon closes his eyes and throws his head back taking Spencer inch, by agonizing inch.

Spencer still can’t believe how tight Brendon is. All he can do is let go of Brendon’s hips to clench his hands into the sheets and wait until he’s completely inside Brendon.

It still gives him a thrill down his spine to know he’s the only one that’s been with Brendon like this, the only person to know how incredibly good Brendon feels around his cock and if he has any say he’ll be the only one to know Brendon’s body this intimately.

Above him Brendon’s thighs quiver and he sighs when he finally has Spencer all the way in him.

“Spencer.” Brendon breathes out.

And this is the only time Brendon is ever still, the moment right after Spencer is encased in him. It drives Spencer crazy having to wait but it’s worth it to see the expression on Brendon’s face it’s full of wonder as if he’s savoring every inch of Spencer and just enjoying how perfect they fit together.

After that second of calm comes the storm. Brendon rises up and down building a fast rhythm. They’re moves are erratic and Spencer can’t catch up to Brendon but it still feels perfect. The sounds Spencer and Brendon make, combine with the slap of slick flesh against slick flesh to make the soundtrack to their world right now.

“Spencer you.” Brendon pants his hands are now braced on Spencer’s chest giving himself more purchase.

“You.” Brendon tries to talk, bites his lip and looks straight at Spencer. “You belong there.” He whispers hoarsely.

Spencer’s feels his breath hitch and he couldn’t agree more, they belong together in every way. He plants his feet on the bed and tries to thrust up to match Brendon’s rhythm and they’re almost there but Brendon’s still moving too fast; he pulls up Spencer’s pulls down and slips out of Brendon.

The loss of contact is almost as if he lost his arm. Brendon makes a desperate needy sound. Spencer takes a firm hold of Brendon’s hips, surges up and kisses Brendon’s lips swallowing his protest.

He flips Brendon over and this is much better. Brendon seems to agree; he wraps his legs around Spencer and pushes up as Spencer pushes back into him. Nothing has ever felt this perfect. They start moving; finally, finally they find a rhythm.

Brendon meets all of Spencer’s thrusts. Spencer angles his thrust a little deeper and knows he’s found Brendon’s prostate when Brendon takes in a sharp breath and seems to hold it before letting out a broken breath.

“Oh God. Right there.” He says through clenched teeth. Spencer smiles and leans down to place a quick kiss to Brendon’s, now swollen, lips.

When he sits back up, he takes a hold of Brendon’s cock. Brendon arches into his touch and moans; his breathing is more gasps than actual breaths.

“Spencer please.” Brendon’s gasps out. Spencer tightens his grip on Brendon runs his thumb over the head, slick with precome, and twist his wrist just so, just the way he knows drives Brendon crazy.

Brendon’s hands go to his shoulder, Spencer can feel blunt finger nails dig into his skin. There’ll be marks there later and he thinks he can’t wait to see them. It only takes a few more strokes before Brendon is coming all over Spencer’s hand and his stomach.

Spencer can feel Brendon tighten around him and it feels amazing. He fights to keep his eyes open; he takes in Brendon’s face screwed up in pleasure. He keeps stroking Brendon riding him through his orgasm. Brendon sighs, his face relaxes, he opens his eyes; a content lazy smile on his face, his rhythm’s still perfect but now tightening every time Spencer pulls out.

He’s close so close, Spencer is in the process of tasting Brendon’s come from his finger; because it’s been too fucking long, when Brendon grabs his wrist and takes his middle finger into his mouth, he sucks hard and that’s all the extra stimulus Spencer needs before he’s coming harder than he has in awhile.

“Brendon,” he manages to choke out before he collapses down onto Brendon’s chest. He feels Brendon’s legs relax around his waist but his arms come up to wrap around Spencer.

Everything after that is too hazy or too clear. Spencer vaguely remembers pulling out of Brendon and discarding the condom. He vividly remembers lying down next to Brendon and kissing him lazily for what seems like hours before he tucks Brendon’s head under his chin, because that’s just how they fit best after sex.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he dreams in colors and sounds. Sounds so beautiful and warm, like Brendon’s voice, he loves Brendon’s voice, Brendon shouldn’t have quit the band.

Quick Note: Umm I think I completely fail at writing sex scenes, sorry if that one sucked.

Part II

fic: Our iPod Life In Random Setting (ryan/brendon)

2008-05-14T01:38:55Z

First PATD fic

Title: Our iPod Life In Random Setting
Author: cardel
Rating: R
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: 3rd
Summary: Ten drabbles where they’re being funny, sad, angry, horny just themselves.
Disclaimer: Sadly enough they’re not mine and this is just a work of fiction : (
Author Notes: I’m fairly new to this fandom, so I thought I break myself in with the ten songs ten drabbles challenge. Let me know what you think.

xposted to

slashatthedisco

I- Come And go By: Fey

Brendon was perfect; Brendon was the shiniest, brightest bulb in the bunch. Brendon was everything Ryan never knew he wanted. Sometimes, though, perfection wasn’t something Ryan neither appreciated nor wanted.

Sometimes he needed to say hurtful things just to watch Brendon’s perfect face break and see him cry.

“Why do you do this?” Brendon asked brokenly, after another one of their arguments. Ryan’s answer was to shrug his shoulder.

And deep down what made Ryan feel safe was the fact that after he apologized everything would be fine. Brendon understood his need to have stupid arguments, understood his need to shake up perfection. After the dust settled the dreams that they shared would still be there waiting to be fulfilled by them.

II- You Were Meant For Me By: Jewel

It’s 6am and Ryan’s not back from his outing. A sigh escapes Brendon’s lips. He rolls over on his bed and tries to fall asleep.

It’s 12:16pm when Ryan walks in to their shared hotel room and promptly passes out on his bed. Brendon sighs and throws a blanket over him, telling himself he is not jealous of whoever left that mark upon Ryan’s milky white neck.

The club music is loud the lights are annoying and Ryan’s afraid they’ll give him seizures. His hand is curled around a now warm drink. His eyes are fixed on Brendon and the foreign hand sliding lower and lower until it cups Brendon’s apple bottom and pulls him close.

Ryan looks up to watch Brendon’s reaction. Brendon smiles invitingly at the stranger. Ryan downs his drink and leaves.

It’s 11:13pm, Ryan is tired and for the first time in a long, long time he knows he’ll be able to sleep. The reason is wrapped tightly around him. After numerous faceless bodies and meaningless encounters Ryan finally has the one person he knows was meant for him, Ryan kisses his cheek.

“’Night Ry.” Brendon mumbles voice thick with sleep.

III- Be Still By: Kelly Clarkson

“I’m so tired.” Ryan mumbles as he walks over to where Brendon is sitting. He proceeds to plop down on the couch his legs stretched out and his head on Brendon’s lap.

“Ditto.” Brendon answers and runs his hands soothingly through Ryan’s hair.

Ryan sighs and this, oxymoron, moment of together alone is where Ryan can relax. The tension drains out of his body. Here with Brendon he can stop being strong and brave and be Ryan and maybe be scared and shake a little knowing Brendon is with him always.

IV- Northern Downpour By: Panic At The Disco

When Brendon was three he used to be afraid that one day the moon and the stars would stop hanging loyally in the sky and fall down to kill them all. When he tells Ryan this story Ryan laughs and kisses him on cheek.

A few day later Ryan tells Brendon when he was three and watched the Wizard of Oz, he made him mom buy him red sneakers. He clicked his heels and just wished for anything that came to mind ranging from a toy guy to his parents not fighting.

Brendon smiles and pulls him close and hums in his ear. “Ryan Ross you’re the one and lonely star that forgot to stay in the sky, but that’s okay because I love you. You’re my one and lonely.”

By the end of the week Northern Downpour is created.

V- With You By: Linkin Park

Ryan does not believe in promises never has never will. When he was younger though before the band, he made himself a promise; he promised never to be violent like his father never to lay a hand on someone he loved.

Ryan hates promises because they are never kept; the red welt across Brendon’s cheek is proof he just broke his. He feels his stomach twist and vile rises to his throat and more than anything he just wants to disappear but instead he start to hyperventilate.

A quick slap on the cheek snaps him back to reality “This is not okay.” Brendon says and wraps his arms around him. “You are not him. You are never going to be him.” Brendon whispers into his ear and if Brendon says it then there may be some truth because Brendon can be a lot of things but never a liar. Ryan puts shaky hands around Brendon and hopes Brendon is right.

VI- You’re Crashing, But You’re No Wave By: Fall Out Boy

Spencer and Jon agree that Ryan and Brendon have stupid arguments. Spencer and Jon disagree on the reason.

“They want to fuck each other.” Jon says matter of fact.

Spencer makes a face, the face, and says. “No they don’t. They just want to kill each other.”

They settle their dispute by locking the culprits in a room after one of their stupid arguments. There are a lot of noises one normally associates with fighting; like furniture moving, things breaking, groans and moans. Spencer smirks.

There is one loud thud and then silence. Ten minutes of silence pass before Jon and Spencer begin to worry and open the door.

The room sure looks like there has been a fight but instead of finding bloody bodies they find Brendon pinned to the wall, his hands roaming over Ryan’s naked torso while Ryan’s left hand holds Brendon’s neck and his right hand has disappeared somewhere under Brendon’s pants.

“Case closed.” Jon states triumphantly before closing the door and pulling a wide eye Spencer away.

VII- The Seeker By: The Who

Brendon has this crazy idea; he is convinced that his soul mate is somewhere in the crowds of screaming fans at their concerts. Jon and Spencer humor him by pointing out potential people. Ryan just shakes his head and ignores the little pang of hurt in his chest.

It’s a month later when Ryan notices Brendon has completely stopped looking into the crowd and is instead looking right at him.

Brendon is singing and his voice is like velvety silk and he dances/sashays up to Ryan. The song is over the crowd cheers; Brendon nuzzles his neck and pulls the microphone away to whisper in Ryan’s ear for Ryan only.

“I found you.” Brendon whispers and takes a quick lick of Ryan’s neck. Ryan nods and smiles.

VIII- Hurt By: Johnny Cash

Ryan is gone. He is not dead and sometimes Brendon thinks it would be better if he was, but it’s not his choice to make and that kills him.

Ryan was in an accident and now he knows no ones, hears no one and fells nothing. At least that’s what the doctors tell Brendon. Ryan used to spend his days writing music, listening to music, kissing Brendon, touching Brendon, but not anymore.

Ryan spends his days in a comatose, dreamless, sleep. He knows no one and hears no one. He doesn’t know Brendon sits by him every day, he doesn’t hear Brendon’s voice singing to him, or Brendon’s touch on his cheek and he certainly doesn’t see Brendon’s tears and broken heart.

Brendon is glad Ryan can’t hear him when he breaks down in front of Jon and Spencer yelling. “Fuck off! Fuck off and leave me the fuck alone. If I want to sit here and rot in a chair next to Ryan, you better fucking believe I fucking will!”

Brendon is very glad Ryan can’t hear him say those things because Ryan would be sad, Ryan wouldn’t want that for Brendon. But Brendon doesn’t care because this aching pain is now the only thing that Ryan can give him and he will gladly, desperately, take it.

IX- House Of Wolves By: My Chemical Romance

“You’re an angel” Ryan whispers against Brendon’s neck. Brendon’ smiles and shakes his head.

“No, I’m not.” He replies and proceeds to sink to his knees. He opens Ryan’s fly and takes him into his mouth. Ryan gasps twisting his hands in Brendon’s hair.

Brendon teases Ryan’s cock with his tongue and pulls back. Ryan groans trying to nudge Brendon’s mouth back, Brendon holds stills. “Fine. You’re right. You’re a bad, bad man.”

A smile graces Brendon’s lips before he takes Ryan in his mouth again and thinks; if he is going to burn in hell for this, like his parents would believe, then he better make it real good.

X- Stuttering By: Ben’s Brother

Surreal, is the only word Ryan can think of when Brendon kisses him. No one has ever kissed him like that. No one has ever made him feel sexy, desirable, wanted, needed and cherished just from one kiss.

Brendon pulls away and gives his lips one last lick before he stares into Ryan’s glossy eyes. Ryan blinks.

“Was that okay?” Brendon asks his hands now playing with the hair at the nape of Ryan’s neck.

Ryan finally focuses on Brendon’s smiling face and all he can do is stutter out a yes, before he pulls Brendon’s mouth back to his.

11 reasons house/chase (11/11)

2008-03-01T08:09:08Z

11 Reasons House And Chase Are Together
Title: Reason Eleven: They’re both only child’s they get each other (11/11)
Theme: #21 rage/anger
Paring: Gregory House/Robert Chase
Rating: NC-17 (overall) this chapterNC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine
Warnings: Slight spoilers for season one. Umm a little rough sex but there is no non-con
Story Summary: There are many reasons why House and Chase are together, but for them only eleven matter.
Chapter Summary: They get each other.

House had a plan and in his head it was a nicely laid out path on how to get Chase out of his life without having to actually do much himself. The first thing he had done was avoid Chase like the plague; which was a bad analogy since if there was someone with a plague House would want to be the first one to see.

House however had managed to avoid Chase and therefore it had been almost five days since he had spoken to Chase and he felt great. Chase on the other hand was looking ragged. Sadly enough, though, his state of weariness had to do with the fact that the staff from the pediatric department as well as the E.R. had been ridiculously short and Chase had to work what seemed like 38 hour shifts.

It was after the commotion of working long hours had died down and Chase seemed unaffected by House’s absence that House decided to put his other plan in motion. And today he would know how Chase reacted. If what he did didn’t give the other doctor a clue then he truly was a masochist.

“Did you hear? Dr. Chase left with that guy again today? That’s the third time this week.” House rounded a corner trying to avoid clinic duty when his musing was interrupted by the two nurses conversing just ten feet away from him. He stopped to listen.

“Really who?” The one with the blue scrubs asked, the other nurse was wearing purple and so House decided they were blue and purple respectively.

“I’m not sure. But from what I could see they looked very close. And I don’t mean friend close.” Purple said clearly making, certain, implications.

“Really Dr. Chase? “ Blue asked picking up on that implication but sounding doubtful.

“Surprised me too but I don’t have any male friends who kiss each other as way of greeting so if that isn’t proof…” Purple shrugged her shoulders leaving the sentence hanging.

“They kissed.” Blue whispered with wide eyes. Purple nodded.

“Well hell, it was sad to know we had low chances with him but now to know we are the wrong gender to begin with that’s just sad.” Blue said and they both giggled and continued their morning gossip.

House had heard enough. Walking away he felt angrier and no, not jealous, than he remembered feeling in a long time. He was going to find Chase and make him explain what the hell was going on.

Feeling the menacing aura he was emitting people steered cleared of him and that made him feel just a little bit better. However, this annoying pang in his chest would not leave him. And a little thought reared its head and suggested that if he really wanted to kill things with Chase he should use this new information as the reason. House squashed, stomped and mentally beat the voice back to the black whole where it had crawled from.

His search for Chase had been cut short when Cuddy found him and forced him to do his clinic duty. It was now evening and House was ready to head home when he heard a voice behind him.

“What the hell was that about?” Chase asked following House down an empty corridor.

The amount of glee he felt by Chase’s anger was over shadowed by the feelings of guilt at hearing the amount of hurt in the younger man’s tone. House frowned, he had a plan damn it and he was going to follow through with it. Not bothering to turn or stop House asked “What?”

“The damn box you sent to my house?” Chase said. He caught up with House and fell in step with him.

“You mean your crap; it was all over the place. That wasn’t part of the deal. You don’t need to spend the night for me to fuck you.” House stated coldly.

“Fuck you House.” Chase said angrily though the hurt in his voice made the statement lose all venom.

“No I think I rather fuck you. In fact, why don’t you come over after work?” House said starting to get angry again. What right did Chase have to sound angry and hurt; when he was the one messing around on him.

“I can’t I have a.”

“Boyfriend? Rumor has it that’s who you’re fucking is true?” House asked with barely masked anger, cutting off the other man’s words.

Startled Chase paused stared at House and frowned. “I don’t see why that is any of your business.” Chase hissed between gritted teeth his anger coming tenfold and his eyes flashed dangerously.

“If I’m putting my dick up your ass you better believe it’s my business.” House said grabbing Chase by the collar bringing him close. Noticing and admitting, to himself, how the spark of anger in Chase’s eyes and his close proximity never failed to excite him.

“No it’s not.” Chase insisted. “I have far more integrity than that. I haven’t slept with anyone since we started this thing and unlike you I get tested regularly I’m clean. That is far more than I can say for you and your harem of, disease laden, whores.” Chase spat out.

“Now why would I want a whore when I have you at beck and call? Having you is even better because I don’t even have to pay.” The harsh words made Chase flinch and he pushed House away.

With a quick look around; House pushed back, opened the door beside them and pushed Chase inside. It was a storage closet.

As soon as the door was closed House pulled Chase close and kissed him. The kisses were angry the touches were rough. There was no doubt in Chase’s mind what was going to happen, but he would not back down. He would show House he could not be broken even if the opposite was true.

Their pace was fast and angry; House turned Chase away from him and sent him bending over a cleaning supply cart. Chase gripped the edges of the cart and gritted his teeth.

House made quick work of dropping both their pants and guided his erection into Chase. Chase tensed.

“House.” He warned, giving House an angry look over his shoulder.

“I haven’t slept with a hooker since you. And I got tested two weeks ago; I’m clean. Check my files if you don’t believe me.” House explained quickly before pushing into Chase without a condom, or preparation and nothing for lubricant but the precom on his cock.

Chase cringed, but it didn’t hurt as much as it would have had they done this months ago. He quickly adjusted not that House had given him time.

Sweat formed on House’s forehead as he pounded almost violently into Chase. Chase arched his back and House pumped faster, harder and deeper. His mind clouded over and all he could think about was getting deeper and deeper into the delicious body beneath his and maybe mark Chase as his.

Didn’t Chase understand? House thought as he drove into him. Chase was his and only his no one else could have what was his. He didn’t play well with others and he didn’t share what was his. He growled pounding into Chase not even registering his thoughts contradicted his plan.

Quickly realizing House had no plans beyond getting himself off; Chase took his erection into his hand and began stroking himself. There was no pleasure filled moans to be heard, only heavy angry breathing and an occasional angry growl filled the otherwise silent space.

And soon the battle was about who could come first. Their rhythm was off they were completely out of synch and ironically enough they came at the same time.

Pulling out House hiked up his pants and watched Chase reach for a roll of paper towels and cleaned himself up as best as possible. After sorting himself out, Chase straightened his clothes and turned to face House and gave him an angry look.

“I’ve heard the rumors.” Chase began his eyes burning with an intense emotion House could not decipher, Chase continued. “Addison is a childhood friend; he’s here on business and wanted help picking out an engagement ring for his girlfriend. That’s all.” And with no more words Chase walked out with his shoulders back and head held high.

Staring into shelves full of disinfectant, House brought a hand up to his face and pressed his fingers tightly into his closed eyes. When he removed the fingers he could see bright spot dancing before his eyes.

A friend, Chase had been seen going out with a friend. And he had jumped to the wrong conclusion and had gotten… jealous?

The word and emotion though not foreign felt strange; there was no reason to feel jealousy when he and Chase didn’t have the kind of exclusive relationship which demanded monogamy and fidelity. House told himself he didn’t desire that kind of relationship again and would not change for anyone.

It was then that, that annoying voice, the one that sounded like Wilson, decided to inform him that Chase had never asked him to change. Chase had never once demanded more than he gave.

Regardless of the blonde’s demands or lack thereof House did not do relationships not after Stacy. He would not change the person he was for her nor would he do it for Chase. And even though Chase seemed to have no qualms with House, House doubted Chase would want what the entire package that came with being in a relationship with him.

Now it was up to House to show Chase who he truly was. And after that the blonde would loose interest and move on and leave House to continue being himself.

Chase opened his locker door and a deluge of pens and pencils fell out all hitting the floor with an out of tune pitter patter that resembled rain. He stared at the pencils and pens at his feet and knew, without a doubt, who the culprit was.

Slamming his locker door shut he turned; intend on finding House and ripping him a new one. His path of revenge came to a halt when he saw Wilson standing before him looking at the mess at his feet

“Wow! He must have messed up really bad.” Wilson stated almost to himself before giving a low whistle.

“What?” Chase asked.

Wilson looked up seeming almost startled to find Chase there. “House,” he said, “that looks like one of his apologies.” Wilson explained motioning, in exasperation at the pencils and pens.

“And from the looks of things.” He continued. “It looks like he did quite a number.”

Chase stared at the floor sighed and leaned back against his closed locker. Why couldn’t House apologize like a normal person?

A chuckle from Wilson caught his attention. “I don’t know, probably because that would make sense. And you know House and sanity have never been buddies.”

Chased sighed again. Apparently he had spoken his last thought. Crouching down he began picking up his apology. Wilson crouched down to help him.

“So what did he do?” Wilson asked and frowned as he saw Chase stiffen and his lips tightening in anger.

“He was House.” Chase muttered angrily.

After that Wilson kept quiet and decided that whatever had occurred between his friend and Chase was between them.

Among the pencils and pens Chase saw a note and pulled it out and unfolded it. Quickly scanning the note, his face became angrier and he shoved the note in his pocket before taking the pens and pencils and dumping them in a nearby trashcan.

Following suit, Wilson walked to the trashcan and hesitated. Chase raised a brow.

Wilson sighed; he couldn’t just completely keep out especially when it involved his friend. “Just so you know I can count with three fingers, even if one of those fingers were amputated, the many times House has ever, willingly, apologized to anyone.” He finished and released his burden into the trash can. And watch with satisfaction as the noise of the pens and pencils hitting the bottom of the trashcan made Chase flinch slightly.

Once Chase was sure Wilson was not coming back Chase pulled out the piece of paper from his pocket. My house tonight at eight; was what the note said. Throwing a quick glance at the garbage can Chase shook his head and walked away to fight the urge to dig up his apology.

Chase passed the rest of the day lost in his own head. His thoughts kept going back to what Wilson had said and what House and he had done a few days earlier in the storage closet. He wasn’t sure what to feel, if he was honest with himself he could admit that a part of him, a big part of him, had liked it; had like the roughness, the possessiveness, House had shown.

What he didn’t like was the reason. House had heard a rumor and had believed it and sought to put him in his place, and that made his blood boil in a non arousing way. By this point in their relationship House should know him better should have come to him first instead of making assumptions.

His frustration and anger however had quickly turned to fright as he realized he and House no longer had the relationship they had agreed upon, this was no longer just casual sex with no strings attached. And what made Chase pause was the thought that House knew it too. House knew and was probably freaking out and that was the reason he had gotten rid of his things. House was trying to go back to the way things were.

Chase gave a frustrated sighed and glance at his watch, it was seven thirty. Running a hand though his hair he packed up and headed out to meet House.

The trip to House’s home was a quick one and next thing he knew Chase was standing before House’s door with his key ready to open the door. It was then he made two conclusions. One, he was not going to let House convince him or himself to stop their developing feeling and relationship. And two he no longer knew if he could function completely without that insufferable man in his life.

Taking a deep breath he turned the key and stepped into the house he had began to think of as a home. The sight that greeted him was far from homey.

House was sitting on the couch with a barely dressed brunet straddling his lap her lips teasing his ear lobe. Chase froze his gaze traveled to the man’s face and was met with a challenging look. House stared back his eyes just daring him to say something.

His first instinct was to turn slam the door and leave, but that was exactly what House wanted. This was not a challenge or a test this was House giving him a chance to run away. House wanted him to run so he wouldn’t have to face the growing emotions and the bond between them. Well Chase was tired of running and he would show House that what they had was not something to run from.

Temporarily ignoring the pang in his heart left from seeing House with someone else and armed with Wilson’s words and all the signs House sent, he took a step forward. He removed his jacket letting it fall carelessly on the floor.

The woman finally seemed to notice him and turned from nuzzling House’s neck. “Is he the one we were waiting for?” She asked in a husky whisper.

Ignoring the words Chase locked eyes with House. He let a smirk play on his lips as he walked towards the couch and settled himself on House’s right.

Holding eye contact Chase reached up and caressed the woman’s bare arm. Slowly he ran his finger tips up and down her arms, feeling the woman shift under his caress he turned to face her.

Shifting on House’s lap she moved closer to Chase and gave him a sultry smile. Chase returned the look as she pulled him close for a kiss.

House watched the two people kissing before him his eyes locked on Chase as the other man’s tongue played and sucked on the pro’s on his lap. Slowly she pulled away her eyes glossy and full of lust directed at chase.

“Hmm” She purred before shifting closer to Chase almost leaving House’s lap. Dipping her head back in for another kiss she stop short when she felt the man below her take her chin. Following the hand she turn to her ‘employer’ for the night; she licked her lips and leaned closer.

“He is delicious.” She whispered in a puff of air.

“You’re done.” House informed her.

Making a little pout with her full lips she sighed and gave a shrug. That was really too bad, but she had already been paid. Besides even thought the two men had not touched she could tell she was clearly the third wheel; it was all in the looks they gave each other.

With the grace of years of practice, she stood from his lap and redressed and walked towards Chase slipping him a card in his hand and confirmed her suspicion when the older man shot her a burning glare. The man in front of her didn’t notice and only gave her an indulgent smile. She walked out with a smirk on her face. Oh how she would love to be a fly on the wall of this room.

Chase turned his head back to House. House had a confused look on his face as if just realizing he had sent out his night’s entertainment and all because she had touched Chase. This was bad, House thought as looked at Chase.

This was not suppose to happen, he wasn’t suppose to feel jealousy when someone else touched Chase, he wasn’t suppose to feel possessiveness either but there they were those annoying emoting that though at for front of his mind were not as strong as the feelings of need, want, and love he felt for the man sitting next to him.

House stared at Chase, Chase stared back. House opened his mouth to speak and no words came out. Instead he stared at the hand holding Chase’s cheek and was too startle to realize it was his, when had that happened, he wondered.

Trying once more for words House opened his mouth, but he was silent. In his head the words he wanted to say went something like; it was fun while it lasted but his is it. Those words however brought up images of his life before Chase and he could not, for the life of him, conjure up a single significant moment of his life before Chase.

With a resigned grunt House decided he wanted, needed, Chase in his life no matter what that entailed. For one glorious moment his life was crystal clear. House decided he would take the chances of getting hurt if it meant more time in the company of the only person who didn’t judge him. The only person whose quirks he accepted and accepted his own. The only person whose fucked up faults he loved and loved his own.

The epiphany like feeling finally brought some relief to the tightening in his chest. Now the only thing to do was to see if Chase still wanted to be with him.

The silence however was too long and made Chase weary. Come on say something, this is your move now. Say something, anything and I’ll stay you know I will. It’s you turn to give House come on. When Chase was met with only more silence he sighed. With a scoff he glanced down at the card in his hand and began to stand up.

“I guess I should give your friend a call and see if she’s still up for some fun.” Chase said sarcastically.

Before he could straighten up fully House plucked the card from his fingers and dropped it on the floor. He pulled Chase down with one hand and with the he took the back of Chase’s neck pulling him down for a kiss.

It was a hard possessive kiss the kind that left Chase with a bitter sweet feeling. Why couldn’t House just let him in and admit he needed Chase as much as Chase needed him. Chase had no answers, but he was tired of House’s mood swings and decided to kiss House back equally hard and with equal possessiveness.

Fighting for dominance tongues dueled hands roamed bodies urgently. Breathes quickened, kissed became sloppy and hurried. House quickly became aroused by the noises Chase was making and the way the other man was creating friction between them.

Frustrated by meeting clothes were his hands were Chase quickly rid House of his clothes and did the same for himself. And thought if this was to be a good buy fuck he wanted it to be fast so he could leave and try to get on his life.

House ended up on sitting on the couch with Chase straddling him. Chase was lubing him up with the tube of lube he had put on the table which was suppose to add to the mockery but now came in handy.

Throwing the bottle down on the floor Chase lined himself up and began lowering himself and stopped when House took his hips and gave him a quizzical look.

“No condom?” He asked.

“No need.” Chase answered and began his decent once again and was once again stopped his House.

“Did you check my file?” House asked referring to the file he had dared Chase to check if he didn’t believe that he was clean.

This time Chase stopped his own descend. He licked his lips and locked eyes with House before he spoke. “Everybody lies; it’s your mantra, but I trust you to tell me the truth when it’s important.” Chase confessed and took the head of House’s cock into himself, both men groaned.

Catching his breath Chase looked down at house. “Was I wrong to trust you?’ Chase challenged.

House only shook his head and groaned as Chase took him all in. What was could he say, his emoting were everywhere. If he had doubts about Chase they were erased. Chase understood him; he knew that while he was actively vicious and mean he would never intentionally harm anyone by lying about something so important.

Chase knew him and understood him and was above him setting a fast rhythm and House could no be happier. Except he could be he wanted to slow down and appreciate his lover but Chase seemed intent on a quickie.

Grabbing his hips House made Chase slow down. Chase frowned and was about to protest when House kissed him and he was left breathless. House was kissing him slowly taking his time to explore his mouth, while his hands caressed Chase’s body.

Pulling away House smiled seeing Chase’s dumbfounded look. Taking his hips again House set a new rhythm. Chase followed House’s lead and together they moved sensually against each other. House scooted lower on the couch changing the angel, Chase’s breath hitched and he placed his hands on either side of House gripping the material of the couch tightly with his hands.

“There?” House asked helping Chase moved faster. Chase only nodded as his prostate was stimulated, he wasn’t sure what House was planning any more but he didn’t care he no longer had enough blood and oxygen flowing into his brain for thoughts.

All Chase could do was moan and move faster and faster, feeling the tip of House’s cock touch his prostate on every down stroke.

“House.” He moaned. In reply House took his nipple into his mouth, he was close and wanted Chase there with him when his came.

Lifting his head House looked up at Chase. And he would never tire of looking upon Chase’s face when the other was aroused. He looked so beautiful, his skin was flawless, his lips red from kissing, his cheeks tinted pink and his eyes closed concentrating on the pleasure he was being given.

And again House wanted no one but himself to look at Chase when he was this opened, this beautiful, but unlike before he let his thoughts be known.

“You’re mine.” He said as he took one of Chase’s nipples into this mouth. “You’re mine.” He repeated biting and licking every patch of skin he could reach.

Registering the words Chase opened his eyes and looked at House. “Yours” He agreed breathlessly, “Yours as long as you’re only mine.” He added and felt House’s grip on his hips tighten and one hand snaked between their impossibly close bodies and began stroking him.

“I don’t do monogamy.” House answered, tightening his grip on his strokes Chase moaned clenching his inner muscles around House. “Oh yeah.” House groaned momentarily closing his eyes.

Chase smiled finally understand and seeing the truth in House’s actions. Why had he wanted a verbal confession he should have known better; House was a man of action not a poet.

The clues were all there and finally made sense; from allowing Chase to coexist with him in the privacy of his home, to the possessive claim on his body to the apology and finally the slow love making House had initiated. House had already given himself to Chase and only wanted to know if the action was returned.

As for the not doing monogamy thing, Chase decided not to point out the fact that House had been monogamous for the past few months instead he returned the banter.

“I’m an only child I don’t share well with others.” Chase teased and had no clue how he could keep talking when he was panting after every word. “House.” Chase whimpered feeling his was close.

Hearing his name whispered with so much desire pushed House over the edge and he came hard inside of his lover. Chase gasped and was soon following House. The first time they had done it without a condom he had no time to enjoy the feeling, but now all Chase could concentrate on was House pulsing inside of him while he spilled his essence on both their bodies.

Collapsing on top of House, Chase caught his breath and smiled when House’s arms went around him and started playing piano notes on his lower back.

“Chase.” House called after a few minutes, the other man’s response was to grunt. “Don’t fall asleep on me.” Chase only snuggled closer to House; he was so deliciously tired he could not muster enough strength to roll of off House.

“Chase.” House prodded again.

“Hmm”

“For the record I don’t share well with other’s either.” House informed a sleepy Chase.

“Does this mean you finally agree? I’m only yours and you’re only mine?” Chase mumbled/asked.

Chase felt House nod before he said, “Yeah, you spoiled brat.” House could feel Chase’s smile on his chest.

A moment later House realized Chase was sleeping. House sighed, he would have to wake his lover soon before his leg cramped up but for now he was happy with their position. “You better not drool.” House mumbled before closing his tired eyes and enjoyed the warmth and comfort holding Chase brought to him.

A/N:I hope the ending wasn't too OOC and that this chapter didn't dissapoint. Well love ya all and until next time ^__^

Previous Parts

Are Here

x-posted to house_chaseand 11_reasons