Well he was just hanging around
Idk, I blame heartequals for everything.
Brendon's not really sure how the fuck he got so fucking lucky. One second, he's barely scraping by, eating cereal three meals a day, running to be on time to class, then work, then practice and homework until his eyes are drooping and not even Red Bull can keep him awake. The next, he's chilling in a suite in LA with fucking Fall Out Boy and they want him to sing on their record holy shit. He's aware that he's making a scene, humming under his breath, tapping his fingers against his thighs, jiggling one foot, cracking his knuckles, but it's not really something he's entirely in control of. Pete and Joe are seated on a couch, facing away from him, cackling over something on Pete's computer, and Brendon wants so much to go ask them what they're laughing at. But years of funny looks and snide, excluding comments in high school keep him in his seat, tweaking like an idiot.
Andy comes in, nods at him, elbows Pete in the back of the head, sticks in his hand in Joe's hair and pulls, and leaves again. Patrick comes in a few minutes later and Brendon feels his twitching intensifying--this is Patrick motherfucking Stump, standing in the same room as him, holy shit, like, Brendon can't even believe this is his life. He tries to stop moving, just for one second, but it only seems to make it worse, and Brendon is seriously going to cry if he fucks this up.
Then someone sits down next to him and puts their hand on his knee. Brendon, busy staring angrily at his hands, doesn't notice until it actually happens, and then oh my God, it's Patrick and Patrick is touching him holy shit.
"Hey," Patrick says, and he's grinning like he knows exactly how Brendon feels but like, how could he, right? He's Patrick Stump.
"Um, hi, hey, haha, hi," Brendon squeaks and feels his face turn red. This is terrible.
"Doing okay?" Patrick asks, and Brendon kind of wants to sink into the floor.
"Yeah, heh. Um, yes." Brendon is saying, when the weirdest thing ever happens. He stops moving. Like, the muscle twitches and the need to hum and bob his head, just to fucking move, get rid of some of the energy thrumming in his bones--it just sort of. Goes away. He takes his first deep breath probably since getting the call from Pete to come to LA and grins at Patrick. "Yes," he says again, and sort of means it this time.
Patrick smiles at him again. "Cool," he says, and then gets up to go knee Pete between the shoulders.
"Cool." Brendon repeats like an idiot.
The recording goes well. At least, Brendon hopes it went well. He thinks it went well, because Pete is grinning and slinging his arm around his neck--although he pulls away quickly saying, "Oops, not mine, sorry!" which is fucking weird--and demanding a party, motherfuckers, we're gonna have a rockin' party.
The party ends up being Pete, Patrick, Andy, Joe, Brendon, and some girlfriends and loud music. There's beer and other strong-smelling things and Brendon just sort of drinks what's put in his hand. He's feeling pretty good, lips kind of numb and everything is awesome, seriously, Patrick, fucking awesome. He can't believe he was scared of Patrick, haha isn't that lame? It occurs to Brendon that this might not be the best thing to say out loud, but by then it's spilling out of his mouth and Patrick's laughing, throwing his head back and laughing out loud and fuck, that feels good.
"You're awesome, Patrick Stump," Brendon says and sticks his nose in the junction of Patrick's neck and shoulder.
Patrick's hand is in his hair, scratching gently. "You're pretty cool too, Brendon Urie," he says, and Brendon can like, hear him smiling.
"Thanks," Brendon says on a yawn, and it's not something he plans, because Brendon is not so good on the planning. But somehow his mouth ends up on Patrick's neck and it's open and whoops, there goes his tongue, what the fuck? Patrick doesn't move, and Brendon makes himself stop, heart pounding a quick marching tempo in his hears.
"Hey," Patrick says, and then his fingers are on Brendon's chin, pulling his face away from Patrick's neck. It's warm, Brendon wants to say, and no one can see him being an idiot, but then Patrick's kissing him--Patrick's kissing him oh my god! There's this moment where Brendon wants to run away and call his mom and then probably apologize to God, but then one of Patrick's hands is on the small of his back and the other is cupping his neck and seriously, this is so much better than any of the other options. So Brendon makes a happy, sort of embarrassing noise and climbs his way into Patrick's lap, where he plans on staying for a good long while. Patrick is a good kisser, and there's no place Brendon can think of he would rather be.
Brendon's not really sure how the fuck he got so fucking lucky. One second, he's barely scraping by, eating cereal three meals a day, running to be on time to class, then work, then practice and homework until his eyes are drooping and not even Red Bull can keep him awake. The next, he's chilling in a suite in LA with fucking Fall Out Boy and they want him to sing on their record holy shit. He's aware that he's making a scene, humming under his breath, tapping his fingers against his thighs, jiggling one foot, cracking his knuckles, but it's not really something he's entirely in control of. Pete and Joe are seated on a couch, facing away from him, cackling over something on Pete's computer, and Brendon wants so much to go ask them what they're laughing at. But years of funny looks and snide, excluding comments in high school keep him in his seat, tweaking like an idiot.
Andy comes in, nods at him, elbows Pete in the back of the head, sticks in his hand in Joe's hair and pulls, and leaves again. Patrick comes in a few minutes later and Brendon feels his twitching intensifying--this is Patrick motherfucking Stump, standing in the same room as him, holy shit, like, Brendon can't even believe this is his life. He tries to stop moving, just for one second, but it only seems to make it worse, and Brendon is seriously going to cry if he fucks this up.
Then someone sits down next to him and puts their hand on his knee. Brendon, busy staring angrily at his hands, doesn't notice until it actually happens, and then oh my God, it's Patrick and Patrick is touching him holy shit.
"Hey," Patrick says, and he's grinning like he knows exactly how Brendon feels but like, how could he, right? He's Patrick Stump.
"Um, hi, hey, haha, hi," Brendon squeaks and feels his face turn red. This is terrible.
"Doing okay?" Patrick asks, and Brendon kind of wants to sink into the floor.
"Yeah, heh. Um, yes." Brendon is saying, when the weirdest thing ever happens. He stops moving. Like, the muscle twitches and the need to hum and bob his head, just to fucking move, get rid of some of the energy thrumming in his bones--it just sort of. Goes away. He takes his first deep breath probably since getting the call from Pete to come to LA and grins at Patrick. "Yes," he says again, and sort of means it this time.
Patrick smiles at him again. "Cool," he says, and then gets up to go knee Pete between the shoulders.
"Cool." Brendon repeats like an idiot.
The recording goes well. At least, Brendon hopes it went well. He thinks it went well, because Pete is grinning and slinging his arm around his neck--although he pulls away quickly saying, "Oops, not mine, sorry!" which is fucking weird--and demanding a party, motherfuckers, we're gonna have a rockin' party.
The party ends up being Pete, Patrick, Andy, Joe, Brendon, and some girlfriends and loud music. There's beer and other strong-smelling things and Brendon just sort of drinks what's put in his hand. He's feeling pretty good, lips kind of numb and everything is awesome, seriously, Patrick, fucking awesome. He can't believe he was scared of Patrick, haha isn't that lame? It occurs to Brendon that this might not be the best thing to say out loud, but by then it's spilling out of his mouth and Patrick's laughing, throwing his head back and laughing out loud and fuck, that feels good.
"You're awesome, Patrick Stump," Brendon says and sticks his nose in the junction of Patrick's neck and shoulder.
Patrick's hand is in his hair, scratching gently. "You're pretty cool too, Brendon Urie," he says, and Brendon can like, hear him smiling.
"Thanks," Brendon says on a yawn, and it's not something he plans, because Brendon is not so good on the planning. But somehow his mouth ends up on Patrick's neck and it's open and whoops, there goes his tongue, what the fuck? Patrick doesn't move, and Brendon makes himself stop, heart pounding a quick marching tempo in his hears.
"Hey," Patrick says, and then his fingers are on Brendon's chin, pulling his face away from Patrick's neck. It's warm, Brendon wants to say, and no one can see him being an idiot, but then Patrick's kissing him--Patrick's kissing him oh my god! There's this moment where Brendon wants to run away and call his mom and then probably apologize to God, but then one of Patrick's hands is on the small of his back and the other is cupping his neck and seriously, this is so much better than any of the other options. So Brendon makes a happy, sort of embarrassing noise and climbs his way into Patrick's lap, where he plans on staying for a good long while. Patrick is a good kisser, and there's no place Brendon can think of he would rather be.