PatD Fic: (Not) Afraid of Being Broken In
Title: (Not) Afraid of Being Broken In
Author: battie_hattie
Rating: PG-13 for language
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan
POV: Third, Brendon
Summary: It had moved slow, building for months, and then everything started to fit together.
Disclaimer: So not even remotely true.
Author Notes: Approx. 3000 words. Set in the Pretty. Odd. Touring time frame, though, you know, everything is fluid being fictional.
Brendon wasn’t really sure how it’d happened. Well, he knew it started with some cuddling. But the exact moment, that was something that he wasn’t nearly as sure of. And really, when he thought about it, pinpointing the exact moment wasn’t something that he really needed to do anyway. What mattered was that it had happened.
He’s sitting on the couch, cross-legged, in a position that he’s been told before should be unnatural. But it’s perfectly natural, and comfortable. But that’s probably because he does at least three hours of intense yoga a week. So, he finds it natural. Ryan thinks it’s both beautiful and grotesque.
Brendon never believed the grotesque part. Especially not when Ryan had been watching him sit like that and Ryan had on pajama pants, and pajama pants don’t hide anything.
Maybe that’s when it had started. Truth be told, it was probably long before that, but Brendon’s well aware that he can be pretty dense sometimes.
He’s been thinking about the last eight months while sitting at the table. He had been eating Frosted Mini Wheats, but about three minutes ago, they’d gone from just the perfect amount of milk-to-wheat ratio to super soggy, and he wasn’t interested in them anymore. He was watching Ryan, strumming his guitar on the couch, talking idly to Jon.
“I can’t fucking wait for this to be over,” Ryan’s telling Jon. “I just want to get back to my house and my dog and just fucking veg out. Maybe go to LA and see Pete or something.”
Jon’s nodding. “Yeah, Cassie and I are just going to do nothing. Well, she doesn’t know that part yet. She wants me to do things, and I’ll inevitably say yes, but I’d like to think that I’d just go hang with my cats and shit.”
Ryan strums out a familiar tune on his guitar, and Brendon’s tempted to start singing. “Maybe I should get a house,” he says, vaguely in the direction of Ryan and Jon.
“Yeah?” Ryan says, lifting his head. “You think you could do that? Would you take Shane with you?”
Brendon shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe? I guess I don’t like living by myself. But you know investments and shit.”
“It’s a great time to buy,” Spencer interjects from his bunk. “And you’ve got the money to pay for it basically in cash.”
Brendon knows that if he does buy a house, Spencer’s going to be in charge of it. Spencer’s the reason that he and Ryan both have their own houses, even if Spencer can’t even legally drink in the US yet.
“Find me a good house, Spencer Smith,” Brendon says, swirling his over soggy shredded wheat around. “You’re in charge. Something big enough for Dylan to run around in… Safely,” he adds.
“You do know that Dylan is a tiny thing right?” Ryan says. “It’s not like she needs a lot of room.”
“Whatever, she needs more than the apartment.”
“You have a big apartment, Brendon,” Jon says, sprawling out on the couch. “Though, home investment is a good choice.”
“When did we all become adults?” Brendon asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer though. “Fuck, when’s the next stop? I could really go for a smoke.”
“You shouldn’t smoke,” Ryan starts. They’ve had this fight before.
“It’s not like I smoke a lot,” Brendon defends. He’s not even sure why he’s saying it; they’ve been having this fight since Brendon casually picked up smoking a year ago.
“It’s not good for your voice,” Ryan tells him for the hundredth time.
“Neither is all that weed you’ve taken to smoking, but hey, I don’t complain.”
“You smoked just as much as I did.” Ryan puts his guitar down and stares at Brendon.
“Hey, Spence?” Jon calls. “You want to, you know, go hang out in the far end of the bus, and you know, look at that thing?”
They can hear Spencer sliding out of his bunk. “Yeah, you know, far away seems really nice right now. Where that thing is, you know.”
Jon and Spencer slink away to the back of the bus, leaving Ryan and Brendon to stare at each other.
“You know I don’t like that you smoke,” Ryan says, not moving from the couch.
“You know that I’m over getting high all the time, and yet, you don’t stop.”
“You haven’t stopped smoking.”
“At least I can still function with a little nicotine.”
“I function just fine with weed. It fucking evens me out.”
“You sound like a fucking hippie all the time,” Brendon snaps. “You used to say all this intelligent shit, and now you just sound stupid.”
“Intelligent shit? That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”
“It is not,” Brendon snapped.
Fortunately, it was that that finally broke the tension and they both laughed. “Seriously?” Ryan gasps, “that’s like, the part of the fight where you’re supposed to defend yourself. Not admit that you’ve said something dumber.”
Brendon runs a hand over his face. “OK, yeah. Probably, but we both know for a fact that it’s probably not the dumbest thing I’ve ever said.”
The moment grows serious and Brendon abandons his cereal bowl to go sit by Ryan on the couch. He laces his fingers through Ryan’s. “OK, what if I asked you to maybe, possibly, perhaps cut down on the amount of weed you smoke?”
Ryan ducks his head and stares at the hand. “I would consider it if maybe you thought about not smoking cigarettes.”
“For the band?”
“No, because cigarettes have this tendency to give you fucking cancer and I can’t fucking lose you.”
The words come out of Ryan’s mouth so fast that Brendon’s not sure he heard them. It’s suddenly become the most serious conversation they’ve had in their eight months of whatever it was they’d been doing.
“You’re not… I’m not…” Brendon stutters.
“Yeah, but you could. It’s just a risk that you don’t need to take. And every time… I just, you can’t. And if you do, don’t do it near me, ok.” He buries his face in Brendon’s chest and clutches at the sides of Brendon’s shirt.
“OK, yeah, fuck, ok,” Brendon says, stroking at Ryan’s hair. They’re both trembling slightly, overwhelmed by what’s happening, and neither of them are doing anything to stop it. “I won’t, I won’t anymore. Or, I’ll try. I promise to try.”
Ryan lifts his head up slowly, pushes his mouth against Brendon’s and kisses him. It should be quick, neither of them know if Spencer or Jon is going to come back to check on them, to make sure that they haven’t killed each other, but they don’t. They move slow, exploring each other’s mouths, like it’s the first time, like there hasn’t been hundreds of kissed before this one.
They part and Ryan runs his hand along the side of Brendon’s face. “Can I? Can I do something? You know, when you want to smoke? Is there something I can do to make you not want to?”
Brendon shakes his head. “I don’t think so, but I’ll let you know. And you know, the same offer applies to you. I can always… you know, whatever you need, you just have to ask.”
Ryan makes a little sound from the back of his throat and turns away. Brendon reaches over and forces Ryan to look at him again. “I know, you’re the worst person about that. You won’t ask, but I’ll make you ask.”
Ryan just smiles at him.
“Are you two done?” Jon’s voice carries over from the back of the bus. “Or do me and Spencer have to keep looking at the thing here in the back of the bus?”
Brendon kisses Ryan one last time. “Yeah, we’re done.” He stays though, next to Ryan, holding his hand.
….
Brendon’s hiding out in an alley behind a club, having a smoke. Ryan is inside, where there are other people smoking, and Brendon really, really needed one. So, true to his word, he went where Ryan couldn’t see him. It’s not his fault that Ryan followed him out there and saw.
“I thought you were going to tell me,” Ryan says, stepping out into the alley.
Brendon puffs at his cigarette. “I thought you were going to ignore it.”
He shrugs and kicks at a piece of trash. “Clubs like this are always bad for those trying to quit smoking. Hell, it even makes me want to smoke with how much is in there.”
Brendon nods, but doesn’t stub out the cigarette.
“We could just leave,” Ryan suggests.
“Yeah, but we’re supposed to be there. Press and all.”
“We made our appearance. And Spencer and Jon are still in there. So, it’s not like we’re not represented. Plus, the press are starting to back out for the night. Shane’s in there taking pictures, but that’s it.”
Brendon inhales deeply. “Am I staying at your place?”
“Of course. I mean, you want to, right? We could go back to your apartment, but there’s Shane and if Shane brings someone home…”
“No, your place is better. Remind me though that I have to do some laundry, or stop by my house for more clothes. I’m running low at your place.”
“Yeah, and we’re almost out of toothpaste,” Ryan adds idly. Brendon doesn’t miss the use of the word we.
“Yeah.” He tosses his cigarette to the ground and stubs it out with the toe of his boot. “We should go to the grocery store tomorrow.” Another deliberate use of the word we. Before he would have told Ryan that he needed to go to the store.
Ryan nods. “You come in with Shane?”
“Sort of. We cabbed it. You know, just in case we got too fucked to drive or something. Rather pay that out then, you know.”
Ryan nods again. “I drove, but I knew I wasn’t going to be drinking. You need to tell him that we’re leaving?”
Brendon pulls out his Sidekick and send a quick text. “I told him you wanted to go and that we’re going to just watch movies and crash at your place.”
“You think?” Ryan starts and makes a vague hand gesture.
“I’m always at your place when we’re home. I think maybe he might be starting to think something’s up. You think I should talk to him?”
Ryan shrugs. “Maybe. Are we telling people?”
Brendon blinks and looks at his shoes. “I don’t know,” he says softly. “Maybe?”
Ryan shakes his head. “Feel Shane out first, ok? If we don’t have to yet then maybe we shouldn’t.”
“Yeah, ok.”
….
Shane gets to Brendon first, before he can even begin to think about what he’s going to say.
“Bden,” Shane says, coming up behind him. “You want to tell me something?”
Brendon throws a small ball for Dylan and watches her chase it around the kitchen. “Uh, no?”
“That’s a question, and yes, you do.”
“No, I’m good. Come on girl, bring it back,” Brendon calls.
“You having a sleepover with Ross tonight?” The question is casual, not accusatory.
“Uh…” Brendon rubs his thumb over the tile, pushing hard enough so the skin around his nail bed turns bright red.
“Yeah, so you are.”
Brendon takes the ball from Dylan when she brings it back and throws it again. “Is that an issue? I mean, did you want to do something tonight?”
“No,” Shane says casually, and walks to the fridge to get a bottle of water. “Just thinking that you and him spend an awful lot of time together, and I’ve been to his house. He really doesn’t have like a functioning guest room or anything.”
Brendon shrugs from his place on the floor. “It’s not like I’ve never shared a bed with him before.”
“For fucks sakes, Bden, you can tell me.”
“Tell you what?” Brendon asks slowly.
“Seriously, I know what come fucking smells like, dude.”
“Oh.” Brendon’s voice goes soft and he focuses in on Dylan, trying to get her attention.
“I can’t really pinpoint when, but my best guess is six months.”
Brendon takes the ball from Dylan and tosses it again, watching her scamper off. “Actually, it’s closer to nine.”
Shane raises an eyebrow. “Really? Well, then you were good at hiding it for the first few months.”
Brendon crosses his legs into a yoga pose and waits for Dylan. “Who else knows?”
Shane shakes his head. “I don’t really think anyone knows for sure. You know, rumors have gone on and off since the band fucking took off, so it’s anyone’s guess really. You two, like secret or something?”
“Or something,” Brendon says with a sigh. “It’s not really, like, we don’t know. And we don’t want to fuck with the band dynamic or anything. I just… you know, I’m just kinda going along, trying to figure shit out.”
Shane hops up on the counter. “Dude, what’s that place that Ryan loves?” It’s Shane’s way of saying that the conversation is over and that he’s ok with it. It’s one of the many reasons Brendon loves him.
“Port of Subs?”
“Yeah, I could go for a sub right now.”
“Delivery or you want to go there?”
“Dude, fucking delivery. You gonna hang around and eat, or you gonna go see Ryan?”
Dylan finally looses interest in her ball and Brendon decides that it’s time to get up from the floor. “No, I think I could eat, but would it be really weird if I got something to take to him for later?”
“So, is he like you boyfriend? For like, officials?”
Brendon shrugs and stretches out his back. “I’m… we’re not seeing any other people. We’re exclusive, if that’s what you mean.”
Shane nods, and the conversation is over. “I’m so getting the extra large, and I’m going to smoke a big fattie before it gets here, because it will taste that much better.”
“Dude, don’t fucking shotgun my dog.”
“I would never do that to Dylan, you know that. Now, if your dog was a hamster, or something fucking lame that would be funny.”
“You’re such a fucking dick,” Brendon says, laughing.
….
An hour later, he’s at Ryan’s house, holding a duffel of clothes in one hand and a Port of Subs bag in the other.
Ryan comes to the door, and holds his hand behind his back. Hobo puts her paws up on Brendon’s legs and uses him to stretch her back. She howls a little bit and Brendon leans down to pet her before she scampers back to her dog bed.
“I brought you a gift,” Brendon says, holding up the bag. “Shane wanted subs, so I figured you’d like something.”
Ryan grins. “Well, then, if we’re exchanging gifts…” he pulls his hand from behind his back and shows Brendon a key and a garage opener. “Nothing special, but you know, ringing the doorbell,” he flips the wrist of his free hand. “And I have to get up, it’s so last year, really.”
Brendon moves forward and kisses Ryan, pushes him back into the house. When they break, Brendon just stares.
“What?” Ryan asks.
Brendon doesn’t stop looking. “I told… Shane knows, just so you know. I think it’s because, you know, when we were fooling around at the apartment… I guess we weren’t so stealth about hiding it.”
He thinks Ryan is going to be mad, but Ryan just shrugs. “Your key has TinkerBell on it,” he says. “I thought you would like that.”
Brendon moves in to kiss him again, but Ryan dodges and grabs the bag. “Fuck, you got my favorite,” he says as he opens the bag and peers inside. “Best day ever. I’m so hungry.”
Ryan goes into the kitchen to get a plate and Brendon follows, key and garage opener pressed tightly in the hand that used to hold the Port of Subs bag. He wonders if maybe he should press the issue, say something more, but Ryan seems to be a little in love with his sub, so Brendon stays quiet as he puts his new TinkerBell key onto his chain.
“Oh, god, this is it,” Ryan says before taking a huge bite of sandwich. Brendon just smiles because some days, Ryan is just too easy to please.
….
An hour later, they’re naked, sated and happy, curled up in Ryan’s bed. Brendon is idly chattering away about a sort-of-girlfriend he used to have, back before he left the church.
“I think she thought that even kissing before marriage was a hell-worthy sin,” Brendon says.
Ryan’s spooned up behind him, breathing softly into Brendon’s hair. “I’ll never understand your faith.”
“It’s not mine anymore. Back, you know, before, it was. But now, it’s not. I just… everyone, especially her, she thought I was a slut, just for thinking that maybe God made us sexual creatures and that was ok.”
“So, what, a half hour ago, when you were sucking my dick, that made you, what? A super slut?”
Brendon elbows him lightly in the stomach. “Say it again, and I’ll never suck it ever.”
Ryan kisses the back of Brendon’s neck. “That’s such a lie I can’t even believe you said it. You love sucking my dick, you know it.”
Brendon finally rolls over so that he can face Ryan. “I love you,” he says softly into Ryan’s chest. It’s the first time he’s ever said it aloud, even though he’s been thinking it for weeks.
Ryan stills for a moment, his breath catching in his chest. “Yeah?”
Brendon keeps his face buried in Ryan’s chest, not looking up to make eye contact, because while ‘yeah?’ isn’t as bad as getting a ‘thank you’, it’s not what he was hoping for either.
“Look at me,” Ryan says.
Brendon doesn’t want to, but reluctantly he does.
“I love you, too.” He presses his lips against Brendon’s gentle and slow. “I just, I wanted to say it, but you know, I didn’t want to be gay or something.”
“Um, I think the whole man-on-man action you’re getting makes you at least a little gay.”
Ryan laughs softly. “OK, yeah, but you know what I mean.” His hand runs over Brendon’s neck. “I didn’t want to weird you out with all that emotional stuff.”
Brendon pinches Ryan’s arm. “You’re a douche, you know that, right?”
“Dude, we’re trying to have a romantic moment here.”
Brendon sighs contentedly. “You know, I’ve figured it out. Finally.”
Ryan looks at him. “What?”
“It’s been eight months, two weeks, and three days.”
Author: battie_hattie
Rating: PG-13 for language
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan
POV: Third, Brendon
Summary: It had moved slow, building for months, and then everything started to fit together.
Disclaimer: So not even remotely true.
Author Notes: Approx. 3000 words. Set in the Pretty. Odd. Touring time frame, though, you know, everything is fluid being fictional.
Brendon wasn’t really sure how it’d happened. Well, he knew it started with some cuddling. But the exact moment, that was something that he wasn’t nearly as sure of. And really, when he thought about it, pinpointing the exact moment wasn’t something that he really needed to do anyway. What mattered was that it had happened.
He’s sitting on the couch, cross-legged, in a position that he’s been told before should be unnatural. But it’s perfectly natural, and comfortable. But that’s probably because he does at least three hours of intense yoga a week. So, he finds it natural. Ryan thinks it’s both beautiful and grotesque.
Brendon never believed the grotesque part. Especially not when Ryan had been watching him sit like that and Ryan had on pajama pants, and pajama pants don’t hide anything.
Maybe that’s when it had started. Truth be told, it was probably long before that, but Brendon’s well aware that he can be pretty dense sometimes.
He’s been thinking about the last eight months while sitting at the table. He had been eating Frosted Mini Wheats, but about three minutes ago, they’d gone from just the perfect amount of milk-to-wheat ratio to super soggy, and he wasn’t interested in them anymore. He was watching Ryan, strumming his guitar on the couch, talking idly to Jon.
“I can’t fucking wait for this to be over,” Ryan’s telling Jon. “I just want to get back to my house and my dog and just fucking veg out. Maybe go to LA and see Pete or something.”
Jon’s nodding. “Yeah, Cassie and I are just going to do nothing. Well, she doesn’t know that part yet. She wants me to do things, and I’ll inevitably say yes, but I’d like to think that I’d just go hang with my cats and shit.”
Ryan strums out a familiar tune on his guitar, and Brendon’s tempted to start singing. “Maybe I should get a house,” he says, vaguely in the direction of Ryan and Jon.
“Yeah?” Ryan says, lifting his head. “You think you could do that? Would you take Shane with you?”
Brendon shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe? I guess I don’t like living by myself. But you know investments and shit.”
“It’s a great time to buy,” Spencer interjects from his bunk. “And you’ve got the money to pay for it basically in cash.”
Brendon knows that if he does buy a house, Spencer’s going to be in charge of it. Spencer’s the reason that he and Ryan both have their own houses, even if Spencer can’t even legally drink in the US yet.
“Find me a good house, Spencer Smith,” Brendon says, swirling his over soggy shredded wheat around. “You’re in charge. Something big enough for Dylan to run around in… Safely,” he adds.
“You do know that Dylan is a tiny thing right?” Ryan says. “It’s not like she needs a lot of room.”
“Whatever, she needs more than the apartment.”
“You have a big apartment, Brendon,” Jon says, sprawling out on the couch. “Though, home investment is a good choice.”
“When did we all become adults?” Brendon asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer though. “Fuck, when’s the next stop? I could really go for a smoke.”
“You shouldn’t smoke,” Ryan starts. They’ve had this fight before.
“It’s not like I smoke a lot,” Brendon defends. He’s not even sure why he’s saying it; they’ve been having this fight since Brendon casually picked up smoking a year ago.
“It’s not good for your voice,” Ryan tells him for the hundredth time.
“Neither is all that weed you’ve taken to smoking, but hey, I don’t complain.”
“You smoked just as much as I did.” Ryan puts his guitar down and stares at Brendon.
“Hey, Spence?” Jon calls. “You want to, you know, go hang out in the far end of the bus, and you know, look at that thing?”
They can hear Spencer sliding out of his bunk. “Yeah, you know, far away seems really nice right now. Where that thing is, you know.”
Jon and Spencer slink away to the back of the bus, leaving Ryan and Brendon to stare at each other.
“You know I don’t like that you smoke,” Ryan says, not moving from the couch.
“You know that I’m over getting high all the time, and yet, you don’t stop.”
“You haven’t stopped smoking.”
“At least I can still function with a little nicotine.”
“I function just fine with weed. It fucking evens me out.”
“You sound like a fucking hippie all the time,” Brendon snaps. “You used to say all this intelligent shit, and now you just sound stupid.”
“Intelligent shit? That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”
“It is not,” Brendon snapped.
Fortunately, it was that that finally broke the tension and they both laughed. “Seriously?” Ryan gasps, “that’s like, the part of the fight where you’re supposed to defend yourself. Not admit that you’ve said something dumber.”
Brendon runs a hand over his face. “OK, yeah. Probably, but we both know for a fact that it’s probably not the dumbest thing I’ve ever said.”
The moment grows serious and Brendon abandons his cereal bowl to go sit by Ryan on the couch. He laces his fingers through Ryan’s. “OK, what if I asked you to maybe, possibly, perhaps cut down on the amount of weed you smoke?”
Ryan ducks his head and stares at the hand. “I would consider it if maybe you thought about not smoking cigarettes.”
“For the band?”
“No, because cigarettes have this tendency to give you fucking cancer and I can’t fucking lose you.”
The words come out of Ryan’s mouth so fast that Brendon’s not sure he heard them. It’s suddenly become the most serious conversation they’ve had in their eight months of whatever it was they’d been doing.
“You’re not… I’m not…” Brendon stutters.
“Yeah, but you could. It’s just a risk that you don’t need to take. And every time… I just, you can’t. And if you do, don’t do it near me, ok.” He buries his face in Brendon’s chest and clutches at the sides of Brendon’s shirt.
“OK, yeah, fuck, ok,” Brendon says, stroking at Ryan’s hair. They’re both trembling slightly, overwhelmed by what’s happening, and neither of them are doing anything to stop it. “I won’t, I won’t anymore. Or, I’ll try. I promise to try.”
Ryan lifts his head up slowly, pushes his mouth against Brendon’s and kisses him. It should be quick, neither of them know if Spencer or Jon is going to come back to check on them, to make sure that they haven’t killed each other, but they don’t. They move slow, exploring each other’s mouths, like it’s the first time, like there hasn’t been hundreds of kissed before this one.
They part and Ryan runs his hand along the side of Brendon’s face. “Can I? Can I do something? You know, when you want to smoke? Is there something I can do to make you not want to?”
Brendon shakes his head. “I don’t think so, but I’ll let you know. And you know, the same offer applies to you. I can always… you know, whatever you need, you just have to ask.”
Ryan makes a little sound from the back of his throat and turns away. Brendon reaches over and forces Ryan to look at him again. “I know, you’re the worst person about that. You won’t ask, but I’ll make you ask.”
Ryan just smiles at him.
“Are you two done?” Jon’s voice carries over from the back of the bus. “Or do me and Spencer have to keep looking at the thing here in the back of the bus?”
Brendon kisses Ryan one last time. “Yeah, we’re done.” He stays though, next to Ryan, holding his hand.
….
Brendon’s hiding out in an alley behind a club, having a smoke. Ryan is inside, where there are other people smoking, and Brendon really, really needed one. So, true to his word, he went where Ryan couldn’t see him. It’s not his fault that Ryan followed him out there and saw.
“I thought you were going to tell me,” Ryan says, stepping out into the alley.
Brendon puffs at his cigarette. “I thought you were going to ignore it.”
He shrugs and kicks at a piece of trash. “Clubs like this are always bad for those trying to quit smoking. Hell, it even makes me want to smoke with how much is in there.”
Brendon nods, but doesn’t stub out the cigarette.
“We could just leave,” Ryan suggests.
“Yeah, but we’re supposed to be there. Press and all.”
“We made our appearance. And Spencer and Jon are still in there. So, it’s not like we’re not represented. Plus, the press are starting to back out for the night. Shane’s in there taking pictures, but that’s it.”
Brendon inhales deeply. “Am I staying at your place?”
“Of course. I mean, you want to, right? We could go back to your apartment, but there’s Shane and if Shane brings someone home…”
“No, your place is better. Remind me though that I have to do some laundry, or stop by my house for more clothes. I’m running low at your place.”
“Yeah, and we’re almost out of toothpaste,” Ryan adds idly. Brendon doesn’t miss the use of the word we.
“Yeah.” He tosses his cigarette to the ground and stubs it out with the toe of his boot. “We should go to the grocery store tomorrow.” Another deliberate use of the word we. Before he would have told Ryan that he needed to go to the store.
Ryan nods. “You come in with Shane?”
“Sort of. We cabbed it. You know, just in case we got too fucked to drive or something. Rather pay that out then, you know.”
Ryan nods again. “I drove, but I knew I wasn’t going to be drinking. You need to tell him that we’re leaving?”
Brendon pulls out his Sidekick and send a quick text. “I told him you wanted to go and that we’re going to just watch movies and crash at your place.”
“You think?” Ryan starts and makes a vague hand gesture.
“I’m always at your place when we’re home. I think maybe he might be starting to think something’s up. You think I should talk to him?”
Ryan shrugs. “Maybe. Are we telling people?”
Brendon blinks and looks at his shoes. “I don’t know,” he says softly. “Maybe?”
Ryan shakes his head. “Feel Shane out first, ok? If we don’t have to yet then maybe we shouldn’t.”
“Yeah, ok.”
….
Shane gets to Brendon first, before he can even begin to think about what he’s going to say.
“Bden,” Shane says, coming up behind him. “You want to tell me something?”
Brendon throws a small ball for Dylan and watches her chase it around the kitchen. “Uh, no?”
“That’s a question, and yes, you do.”
“No, I’m good. Come on girl, bring it back,” Brendon calls.
“You having a sleepover with Ross tonight?” The question is casual, not accusatory.
“Uh…” Brendon rubs his thumb over the tile, pushing hard enough so the skin around his nail bed turns bright red.
“Yeah, so you are.”
Brendon takes the ball from Dylan when she brings it back and throws it again. “Is that an issue? I mean, did you want to do something tonight?”
“No,” Shane says casually, and walks to the fridge to get a bottle of water. “Just thinking that you and him spend an awful lot of time together, and I’ve been to his house. He really doesn’t have like a functioning guest room or anything.”
Brendon shrugs from his place on the floor. “It’s not like I’ve never shared a bed with him before.”
“For fucks sakes, Bden, you can tell me.”
“Tell you what?” Brendon asks slowly.
“Seriously, I know what come fucking smells like, dude.”
“Oh.” Brendon’s voice goes soft and he focuses in on Dylan, trying to get her attention.
“I can’t really pinpoint when, but my best guess is six months.”
Brendon takes the ball from Dylan and tosses it again, watching her scamper off. “Actually, it’s closer to nine.”
Shane raises an eyebrow. “Really? Well, then you were good at hiding it for the first few months.”
Brendon crosses his legs into a yoga pose and waits for Dylan. “Who else knows?”
Shane shakes his head. “I don’t really think anyone knows for sure. You know, rumors have gone on and off since the band fucking took off, so it’s anyone’s guess really. You two, like secret or something?”
“Or something,” Brendon says with a sigh. “It’s not really, like, we don’t know. And we don’t want to fuck with the band dynamic or anything. I just… you know, I’m just kinda going along, trying to figure shit out.”
Shane hops up on the counter. “Dude, what’s that place that Ryan loves?” It’s Shane’s way of saying that the conversation is over and that he’s ok with it. It’s one of the many reasons Brendon loves him.
“Port of Subs?”
“Yeah, I could go for a sub right now.”
“Delivery or you want to go there?”
“Dude, fucking delivery. You gonna hang around and eat, or you gonna go see Ryan?”
Dylan finally looses interest in her ball and Brendon decides that it’s time to get up from the floor. “No, I think I could eat, but would it be really weird if I got something to take to him for later?”
“So, is he like you boyfriend? For like, officials?”
Brendon shrugs and stretches out his back. “I’m… we’re not seeing any other people. We’re exclusive, if that’s what you mean.”
Shane nods, and the conversation is over. “I’m so getting the extra large, and I’m going to smoke a big fattie before it gets here, because it will taste that much better.”
“Dude, don’t fucking shotgun my dog.”
“I would never do that to Dylan, you know that. Now, if your dog was a hamster, or something fucking lame that would be funny.”
“You’re such a fucking dick,” Brendon says, laughing.
….
An hour later, he’s at Ryan’s house, holding a duffel of clothes in one hand and a Port of Subs bag in the other.
Ryan comes to the door, and holds his hand behind his back. Hobo puts her paws up on Brendon’s legs and uses him to stretch her back. She howls a little bit and Brendon leans down to pet her before she scampers back to her dog bed.
“I brought you a gift,” Brendon says, holding up the bag. “Shane wanted subs, so I figured you’d like something.”
Ryan grins. “Well, then, if we’re exchanging gifts…” he pulls his hand from behind his back and shows Brendon a key and a garage opener. “Nothing special, but you know, ringing the doorbell,” he flips the wrist of his free hand. “And I have to get up, it’s so last year, really.”
Brendon moves forward and kisses Ryan, pushes him back into the house. When they break, Brendon just stares.
“What?” Ryan asks.
Brendon doesn’t stop looking. “I told… Shane knows, just so you know. I think it’s because, you know, when we were fooling around at the apartment… I guess we weren’t so stealth about hiding it.”
He thinks Ryan is going to be mad, but Ryan just shrugs. “Your key has TinkerBell on it,” he says. “I thought you would like that.”
Brendon moves in to kiss him again, but Ryan dodges and grabs the bag. “Fuck, you got my favorite,” he says as he opens the bag and peers inside. “Best day ever. I’m so hungry.”
Ryan goes into the kitchen to get a plate and Brendon follows, key and garage opener pressed tightly in the hand that used to hold the Port of Subs bag. He wonders if maybe he should press the issue, say something more, but Ryan seems to be a little in love with his sub, so Brendon stays quiet as he puts his new TinkerBell key onto his chain.
“Oh, god, this is it,” Ryan says before taking a huge bite of sandwich. Brendon just smiles because some days, Ryan is just too easy to please.
….
An hour later, they’re naked, sated and happy, curled up in Ryan’s bed. Brendon is idly chattering away about a sort-of-girlfriend he used to have, back before he left the church.
“I think she thought that even kissing before marriage was a hell-worthy sin,” Brendon says.
Ryan’s spooned up behind him, breathing softly into Brendon’s hair. “I’ll never understand your faith.”
“It’s not mine anymore. Back, you know, before, it was. But now, it’s not. I just… everyone, especially her, she thought I was a slut, just for thinking that maybe God made us sexual creatures and that was ok.”
“So, what, a half hour ago, when you were sucking my dick, that made you, what? A super slut?”
Brendon elbows him lightly in the stomach. “Say it again, and I’ll never suck it ever.”
Ryan kisses the back of Brendon’s neck. “That’s such a lie I can’t even believe you said it. You love sucking my dick, you know it.”
Brendon finally rolls over so that he can face Ryan. “I love you,” he says softly into Ryan’s chest. It’s the first time he’s ever said it aloud, even though he’s been thinking it for weeks.
Ryan stills for a moment, his breath catching in his chest. “Yeah?”
Brendon keeps his face buried in Ryan’s chest, not looking up to make eye contact, because while ‘yeah?’ isn’t as bad as getting a ‘thank you’, it’s not what he was hoping for either.
“Look at me,” Ryan says.
Brendon doesn’t want to, but reluctantly he does.
“I love you, too.” He presses his lips against Brendon’s gentle and slow. “I just, I wanted to say it, but you know, I didn’t want to be gay or something.”
“Um, I think the whole man-on-man action you’re getting makes you at least a little gay.”
Ryan laughs softly. “OK, yeah, but you know what I mean.” His hand runs over Brendon’s neck. “I didn’t want to weird you out with all that emotional stuff.”
Brendon pinches Ryan’s arm. “You’re a douche, you know that, right?”
“Dude, we’re trying to have a romantic moment here.”
Brendon sighs contentedly. “You know, I’ve figured it out. Finally.”
Ryan looks at him. “What?”
“It’s been eight months, two weeks, and three days.”