Fic - Gabe Saporta/Brendon Urie; In Your Life, The Curse Has Got a Name
Title: In Your Life, The Curse Has Got A Name
Author: bergann
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gabe Saporta/Brendon Urie, hints of Frank Iero/Gerard Way, William Beckett/Travis McCoy, Spencer Smith/Brendon Urie
Summary: The van doesn't come out of nowhere, but to the driver, Brendon does. (Dead Like Me fusion)
Beta: musicianatheart&unrequited-rain
Disclaimer: fic·tion [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination
Word Count: 6 632
Author's Note: Written for bandomficathon. Title is a line from Toxic Girl by Kings of Convenience.
now
"Any guesses to the nature of the reaps, young one?" Gabe asks as they get closer to the destination written on their post-its.
Brendon thinks it over for a second, being careful not to step outside the line he sees by the side of the old road. "Murder," he says eventually. He hasn't reaped anyone who'd died from murder in a while. He's probably due.
"Hm," Gabe says, and Brendon can tell without looking that Gabe is nodding slowly to himself as he thinks it over. "This far out, murder is probably the #1 cause of death. What else are you going to fucking die of out here? Still, to keep things interesting, I say graveling."
"Seriously? I mean, this is like the perfect place for serial killers," Brendon comments and can't help but glance around, nearly falling sideways into a ditch as the gravel slips at his next step. Gabe grabs Brendon's hand without having to look for it and rights him back up, not letting go even once Brendon is no longer in danger of falling over.
"I haven't seen a car in thirty minutes. Where the fuck would the murderer come from?" Gabe gestures around them with his free hand, at the trees and the empty road they've been walking around. "I win, I get - hm - I get ten minutes where you have to follow my lead no matter what I do."
Brendon stares at him, because there are probably deals to be made with the devil that are smarter to agree to than that. "Sure, and if I win, you have to dress like Marilyn Monroe for an entire day. And feed me pancakes."
"Really? That's it?" Gabe purrs, arching an eyebrow. "All you had to do was ask, Bren."
Brendon's answer disappears in a surprised exhalation of air as someone comes running through the tress, crashing into him from the side, sending Brendon into Gabe and both of them to the ground.
"Run!" The person - a woman - shouts back over her shoulder to them as she runs into the trees on the other side of the road.
"Did you get it?" Gabe asks, not because he doubts Brendon's ability to take a soul when he's not expecting it, but because it would really suck if they had to run into the forest after her. Brendon nods once from his sprawl on top of Gabe, cheek brushing briefly against Gabe's neck. "Good, mine's coming up," he says, and rolls them so he's pinning Brendon down and he sticks his hand out, just as a terrified guy comes running out after the woman, stumbling at Gabe's momentary grasp at his ankle, but not pausing. Gabe stares after them, and when he looks down at Brendon, he sees that Brendon's tilted his head back to look after them as well. When he tilts his head back, he catches Gabe's eyes and grins.
"What are you thinking?"
"Sure as fuck not thinking graveling," Gabe tells him, just as something hits the ground next to them. Gabe feels Brendon's sharp intake of breath, sees the way Brendon's eyes go wide in fear, but doesn't look and the thing - creature or human - doesn't pause either, goes after its prey without a glance at them.
"Jesus, what was that?" Brendon whispers and Gabe shrugs, getting to his feet.
"Not a graveling," Gabe says and frowns at the trees. "Bigfoot? Crazy human? Not anything I'd want to meet."
"It didn't even look at us," Brendon says, dusting off his pants. "Maybe it was a bear or something. The scent of our particular deaths always throws them off."
Gabe shrugs, and there is one, then two horrible screams from the forest in front of them. "Murder."
Brendon laughs at him, a shaky one but a laugh nonetheless, and shakes his head. "To be completely fair, I'm letting Zack decide that one."
Gabe shrugs in agreement and they slowly start walking back to the bus stop in silence, waiting for the souls to come walk with them.
then
The van doesn't come out of nowhere. In fact, if Brendon wasn't backing out into the road, shouting sorry after the guy he'd bumped into, he would've been able to step out of the way.
The van doesn't come out of nowhere, but to the driver, Brendon does.
now
Zack votes murder. He shrugs and says, "Wrong time, wrong place, humans are crazy," and slides a cookie over the table to Brendon like he'd known they were just around the corner. "What was the bet anyway?"
Gabe tells Zack while he leers at Brendon over a cup of coffee.
When he's finished, there's a moment where Brendon thinks maybe Zack is going to reach out and shake his hand or something. He looks torn between proud and laughing.
"I will be the sexiest Marilyn you've ever seen," Gabe promises, slouching in the seat grinning. "You will be begging for more by the end, Urie. You totally want my ass."
then
Zack's the one who leads Brendon away from where the van driver is hopelessly trying to administer CPR. "Sorry about that, kid," are the first words Zack says to him. "Otter had a job to do and he did it. It's nothing personal."
"I'm dead."
"No," Zack smiles at him, just a hint of sadness in it, "you're just not alive."
The further away they walk from his body, the stranger Brendon feels. He can't help but think he's dreaming and that it isn't real.
Three days later, at his funeral, Brendon doesn't cry. He's too busy staring at his family, at Spencer, Ryan and Brent, for the last time.
now
Brendon's post-it reads B. Wilson and it's an apartment address. Brendon hates the reaps that happen indoors. "Wanna trade?" He asks Frank, because Frank loves coming up with bizarre lies to get him through the door.
"No trading," Zack says at once.
"But Zack," Brendon whines, "You know I hate the apartments. I bet I have to be buzzed up and be all convincing on the intercom about the reason B. Wilson should let me come reap his soul."
There's a sudden loud bang as Gabe's fist slams into the table, barely avoiding getting stabbed by Greta's fork, "Stay away from my waffles, Saporta."
"You love me, Salpeter," Gabe counters with an easy shrug. "Just say you're a strip-o-gram, Urie. Who wouldn't let a strip-o-gram up?"
"Never in the mornings," Greta denies, but she is smiling a little. "Besides, you keep Brendon away from your sketchy life; I'm not letting you corrupt him anymore than I'm letting you have one of my waffles."
"C'mon, Bren, you're gonna be late again," Frank says, even though he's cackling and looking prepared to jump into the discussion. "I'll walk you to the store."
"I don't think Gerard is up at this hour," Brendon says, not really protesting, because the walk to his paying job is kind of boring to walk on his own, and he's forgotten his iPod back at the apartment.
"Fuck you," Frank says, hiding his blush by pulling his beanie further down than usual. "Maybe I'm coming with because I want to see Bryar and Toro."
"They might die of shock," Brendon says, pulling on his gloves and wriggling his green fingers at the others.
"Hold up," Zack says, shoving Gabe to the floor as he slides out of the booth. "My reap is in your direction."
"Awesome," Brendon beams, and Frank doesn't need more encouragement than that to jump on Zack's back and cling there on the way out of the diner. Zack rolls his eyes but doesn't complain, grinning slightly to himself.
then
The day after his funeral, Zack takes him to Chicago. "I don't understand," Brendon whispers once they are in the air, a phrase he's been repeating a lot in the - god, days he's been dead. "If you're - based, I don't know what you'd call it, but if you're that in Chicago, why was I on your list?" Zack shrugs and doesn't say anything, so Brendon presses on, "Doesn't Vegas have its own you-know-whats?"
"They do," Zack says, glancing sideways at him. "But they didn't get the post-it. I did. The instructions arrive at my door and I carry them out or pass them on."
"You don't question it?" Brendon asks, quietly, because he's spent the last two years questioning everything his parents - his religion - had taught him. He doesn't think he can just blindly follow something a post-it note tells him.
"Of course I do," Zack says, and there is no way he knew about Brendon's family - it hadn't been mentioned at the funeral and Brendon hadn't told - but he still places a comforting hand on Brendon's shoulder like he does know anyway. "I question and I curse and I'm not happy with it most of the time, but the work we do is important. Remember that tomorrow when we go out: we rarely get thanked, but without us, the world would never stop screaming. With us, at least people find peace in the end."
now
Brendon's shift at the store ends at seven. It's half an hour until Brendon's appointment with B. Wilson, and it's raining outside. He'll probably be drenched by the time he makes it to the apartment, but a drenched reaper is better than no reaper at all for B. Wilson.
He makes it to the apartment building with ten minutes to spare, and apparently today's his day, because just as he arrives someone is leaving and he can slip right in without having to try and convince B. Wilson to buzz him up. He takes the stairs to the third floor slowly, counting in his head, so by the time he's standing outside apartment number 5, he has a total of five minutes left.
He rings the doorbell, and there's a shout of 'Jesus, you guys are early!' that sounds strangely familiar, but Brendon doesn't place it until the door is yanked open and he's staring into a very familiar face.
"Brent," Brendon gasps in shock, thinking no, thinking he can't do this, he can't reap Brent.
then
The first reap Brendon tries to save is J. Hugh. He has already reaped three times by then, twice on his own - but he just can't see or understand the things that make the rest of them, Frank and Gabe and Travis and Zack, act like the reaps are nothing. Whatever it is that makes them able to watch people get killed day after day, knowing they have a chance to save them.
So he goes to a bookstore and hides away until way after 7.46 PM which is when the post-it Zack had slid under the apartment door when Brendon didn't show up at the diner had said the ETD would be.
Zack grabs him when he finds him, lifts him right off the ground, and carries him to the morgue. J. Hugh has died even without Brendon there to reap, and is still there - trapped inside the body, about to be trapped in a coffin for the rest of eternity, screaming and conscious.
now
"I can't believe this," Brent says, sitting on the couch and staring at Brendon - too many expressions on his face at once, impossible for Brendon to decipher, especially after all these years. "You -- I was at your funeral. You died. You can't be here, I mean - it's probably just because I'm dead too, now, right?"
"I got what you could call a deal," Brendon says without humor, shaking his head. "A deal I never wanted. I'm not alive and I'm not dead, but once I was Brendon Urie from Las Vegas."
"So what are you?"
"I'm a Grim Reaper," Brendon spreads his hands, "I take the souls of those about to die. I ease their passing and guide them on their way."
"But how is that possible? I mean, you still look the same," Brent runs a hand through his hair. "You look exactly the same. You sound the same. It's like the past couple of years never happened at all."
"I don't though. When you opened the door, you didn't - didn't see me. You saw the new me, the new face of Brendon Urie. My face, my body, it's something else to those who are still breathing." Brendon smiles a little at him. "You only see me now as you knew me back then because you died. The information is useless to you now."
"This is - this is insane," Brent hisses suddenly and gets to his feet. "You're dead. There can't - there can't exist a whole world of Grim fucking Reapers without anyone knowing. My friends are probably going to be here soon to tell me this is all some really fucking awful joke."
"I'm sorry," Brendon whispers, and the kitchen is replaced by brilliant blue light. He can't see what Brent's light looks like, the doorway is too small and Brent is standing in the way, but he has no doubt it's as beautiful as the lights of everyone else. The lights are always beautiful. Brent is staring into it; afraid yet clearly ready to step into whatever is calling him.
"So this is really it," Brent says eventually and looks over his shoulder at Brendon.
"This is really it." Brendon nods, smiling shakily. "I'm really sorry, Brent, for - for everything."
He reaches out and touches Brent's shoulder briefly, right before Brent disappears into his light.
The room looks depressing in the wake of the light, and Brendon wipes his eyes at the sleeve of his hoodie. "I owed you so much," he whispers to the dead body by the hallway closet, blood still pooling out on the floor from where Brent's head had been cracked open by a bowling ball. The graveling that had pushed it is long gone.
Brendon steps over the body and closes the door to Brent Wilson's apartment quietly.
then
Brendon hasn't really given any thought to why no one had said anything, those three days he walked around in Vegas with Zack, why no one pointed at him and screamed when he and Zack sat in on his own funeral. At first he'd thought he was in a coma and everything was a dream, and then he had just moved onto the assumption that no one but Zack could see him. And once he'd arrived in Chicago, he hadn't given it any thought. His face is still the same in the mirror every morning.
"Well yeah," Frank says, when Brendon points that last part out after Frank asked what the new him looked like. "'Cause mirrors don't keep secrets. Death can't change who you are, it just changes how those who live see you. You seriously haven't taken a look at the new you?"
"How do you do it?" Brendon demands, slightly horrified that no one has told him about this before now, five whole days after he came to Chicago!
"C'mon," Frank says, bouncing to his feet, "I'll show you."
Frank drags him to an electronics store that has a television screen with attached camera facing the street. Brendon is never quite clear on how long he stood there, just staring at the person everybody but the reapers apparently perceive him to be now.
He looks older and shorter. Not much shorter, but enough so that the face that is staring back at him through the television with smaller lips, eyes and nose is both utterly new to him and still familiar. His hair is shorter, too, and dark blonde, and if Brendon is totally honest with himself, he looks a lot cooler like this than he ever had before.
"Huh," Frank says contemplatively. "You're pretty hot."
"I'm always hot," Brendon replies at once and with a last glance at the television, starts to walk down the street. He doesn't want anyone from the store asking why they're just hanging around, eyeing themselves up on the TV. "Anything else would be a lie."
"Sure, but us reapers, we usually don't end up looking our best to everyone still alive." Frank shrugs. "Usually we look like we've grown up with a fucking drug problem, like we're the ones seconds away from knocking on Death's door. I'm just sayin’ that the Brendon we saw just now was pretty hot for a guy who'd been dead for 8 days."
now
Brendon likes to use the lulls between costumers to try his hand at the instruments in the store, or practice those he already knows. The first time Bob walked back into the room to find Brendon by the piano; his reaction was just a shrug. Ray and Bob don’t seem to care so long as Brendon stops as soon as someone walks through the door. On the really slow days, Ray sits down with a guitar next to him, or Bob settles down behind the drums. Brendon doesn't comment on it, just grins and switches over to something they all know.
It's one of the many reasons why Brendon's paying job is pretty much the best thing ever. He also gets to hang out with Bob and Ray, he earns his share of the apartment rent with some left over for groceries and fun things and he gets to play instruments practically every day.
If he hadn't died, he'd be playing instruments every day with Ryan, Spencer and Brent.
He doesn't like to think about that, and whenever the thought sneaks up on him, Brendon just plays harder or talks faster.
But after Brent, he finds himself remembering the days spent in Spencer's garage, and it doesn't hurt as much as usual.
He's not really paying attention, fingers playing out a tune without Brendon's conscious decision to play anything, and it isn't until someone clears their throat behind him that he guiltily realizes he's playing songs by Panic! Songs he hasn't played since he died. "Sorry," he says as he turns, "Bob got rid of the bell by the door so I can't hear it when --" Brendon fumbles for a moment, staring in shock, because standing in front of him is Spencer Smith. "--the door opens. I mean, I could sit at one of the other pianos so that I have some sort of visual on the door, but I really like this piano, and Bob says the bell is too annoying to keep for that."
"What was it you were playing just now?" Spencer asks, apparently ignoring Brendon's word-vomit. He used to do that before too, but he always looked more amused about the all the words Brendon couldn't help but share.
Brendon has to remind himself to breathe. He doesn't look the same anymore. Spencer won't recognize him. "I don't know, I mean, sometimes when I'm thinking, my fingers just play on their own. I'm sorry if I, like, completely butchered a really good song."
"No," Spencer says slowly, frowning. "It just sounded like something my old band played."
"Oh!" Brendon says and tries to smile wide. "You're in a band? That's so cool, what music do you play?"
"I'm not in a band," Spencer says, voice emotionless. "It didn't last."
"You must play still though," Brendon says, keeping surprise out of his voice and off his face. Spencer doesn't play in a band anymore. He carefully doesn't let himself wonder why. "I mean, you're here so I can only assume you're looking for an instrument."
Spencer nods and with a last strange glance at the piano, walks over to the drums. Brendon slips his phone out of his pocket and sends blast frm past @ store. need hlp!!! to the last used number, before he follows to have some sort of post-death heart attack and earn the money Bob and Ray pay him.
then
A couple of weeks after Brendon comes to Chicago, Gabe starts complaining about how no one in their group has a completely insane death. "I heard there's this reaper who got killed by a toilet seat from outer space. What kind of awesome deaths do we have? None, that's how many."
"Um," Brendon says and then figures that this is as good an opening as any, "How did you guys die? I mean, is that rude or inappropriate or something, asking how you died? Because you don't have to tell me, I'm just curious."
Frank giggles. "Like we care about someone being rude or inappropriate. That's like Gabe's default setting."
"Francis, I resent the implication that I am rude. My Mama raised me right; I have the best of manners."
"It's not rude, Brendon," Travis says, "We'd probably have mentioned it sooner or later."
"Oh, good," Brendon says, relaxing a little, because they all seem really cool and he doesn't want to piss anyone off. "So, how did you die?"
"I was in the second World War," Travis says quietly, eyes getting a far-away looking in them for a moment. "Stepped on a landmine."
"I was parachuting, and a graveling fucking cut the straps. Went crashing right down." Frank kicks viciously at the table leg. "Passed out before I hit the road, though."
Brendon turns his eyes to Gabe, who just grins back at him for a moment before he says, "I got bit by a cobra. I was trying my hand at snake charming, got promised it was totally harmless. Man, was I pissed when the guy came back to pick the snake up. Got a really good kick in later."
"What about Zack?" Brendon asks after everyone is silent for a moment.
"Who knows," Travis says with a shrug. "Zack's been here longer than any of us. He doesn't mention it, and we don't ask. The way we figure is he'll tell when he's ready."
Brendon nods. He hasn't really talked about how he died yet either, but the others don't look at him like they're expecting him to share so soon either. They've probably had years to get used to talking about it. "I got hit by a van. I'd just had a really huge fight with my band, because I’d been kicked out by my parents and had to work extra shifts to pay for my apartment, and they wanted to play more 'cause this guy Pete was going to come hear us play. I ran out and I wasn't really looking where I was going, I just wanted to walk for a bit, and I bumped into this guy and turned to apologize, and - and died."
No one says anything, but Frank curls up by Brendon's side and Travis shoves Gabe's plate of fries over with a smile. Gabe doesn't protest, so Brendon smiles at all of them and thinks that being dead isn't so bad, so far.
now
It only takes a minute before Brendon's phone is ringing, and he makes apologetic hand motions at Spencer as he answers. "Gabe, why are you calling, you're supposed to be here."
"Brendon, man, did you forget? We're all at that bank being robbed. I'm a hostage, dude."
"What?" Brendon shrieks, and Spencer startles, shooting him a questioning look that Brendon decides to ignore. "Why was mine the only one different?"
"The body count is only going to be four," Gabe's voice reasons. "But one's the gunman so we had to stick around. He's going to realize I'm on the phone any second though, so what's going on?"
Brendon eyes Spencer's back, and even though Spencer seems to be studying one of the drum sets, Brendon wouldn't put it past him to be listening in. "Panic!" He says, walking a little bit away, "Drummer!"
"Holy shit," Gabe says, "Spencer Smith walked into your shop? You reaped that other guy not too long ago too, what the fuck are the odds?"
"I am being haunted by my past," Brendon feels a little bit like crying. "I'm the one who's fucking dead! If anyone's supposed to be haunting, it's supposed to be me!"
On the other end of the line there's what sounds like a scuffle and Gabe's voice saying 'ow, work abuse!' before Zack's voice is on the line. "Brendon, you're really serious about this?"
"Yes! I am totally serious about this! Remember that time you wished Frank was alive so you could kill him because he set your new car on fire? I am even more serious." Brendon says, trying to keeping his voice down, but he's never really been the best at that. But Spencer's still over by the drums and Brendon's all the way over with the keyboards. "Ray and Bob aren't here today and you are all hostages, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"
"Jesus," Zack breathes and then clears his throat a little. "Just, just treat him like a customer, Brendon. Act like you don't know the guy, because you don't, not anymore. That life is dead; you gotta remember that, so treat him like a total fucking stranger. He won't recognize you unless you make him."
"But it's Spencer," Brendon says quietly. He used to curl up with Spencer on the couch and discuss stupid shit. Spencer didn't roll his eyes as much as the others whenever Brendon came bouncing in with a Disney DVD, and he didn't question the first night Brendon came over in the middle of the night in need of a place to sleep. Spencer didn't laugh or push him away when Brendon kissed him the day he died.
He isn't sure what his voice sounds like, but Zack's voice is as gentle as it gets when he eventually answers, "I know that, but you gotta try, Bren. You don't want him to find out. You can't have both lives. Someone will be there as soon as possible."
Zack hangs up before Brendon can say anything to that, and he takes a few deep breaths as he just stares at his phone, before he walks back over to Spencer with a fake smile on his face. "Sorry about that. Have you made a decision yet?"
"You okay, dude?" Spencer asks, frowning at him and it isn't fair that Spencer can still read Brendon, even if he isn't aware it's Brendon he's looking at. "You look kind of upset."
"I'm fine, just --" Brendon waves his hands in the air for a moment, brain desperately searching for a plausible reason to be upset, before he settles on, "--boyfriend trouble."
"Ah," Spencer says and his nod is knowing. Brendon wants to tell Spencer that it isn't fair - he was supposed to be the reason for knowing nods like that. Except Brendon has -- well, Brendon kind of has Gabe, so it's only fair Spencer should have someone too. Brendon wants Spencer to be as happy as possible. "Are there any drumsticks around? I mean, I looked but I didn't see any and I kind of want to try them out before I decide on anything."
"Yeah, no of course!" Brendon nods and goes to get the drumsticks from behind the counter. "We get some little shits in here sometimes. Bob's taken to hiding them away, he says maybe they'll learn to respect the instruments if they're not allowed to play them without asking."
Spencer grins a little at him and settles down behind the drums. He starts drumming out the beats for Camisado and Brendon wants to laugh hysterically. He busies himself with rearranging the guitar display, wondering how long it'll take Ray to notice, until he realizes the store has fallen silent again. He looks up at and can't help but blush a little when he realizes Spencer is sitting behind the drums, watching him. But there's an answering blush appearing on Spencer's cheeks at being caught at it, so Brendon smiles and says, "How did you like it?"
"It's - it's good. Better than my old one." Spencer says and looks at his hands. "Just weird. I've had my old drums forever."
Brendon makes an agreeing sound. "I made this spontaneous move once. Had to replace all my instruments. It felt weird at first, I just kept thinking of the instruments I'd been learning on and suddenly couldn't play anymore."
"Why the spontaneous move?" Spencer asks, and Brendon looks at him and can't bring himself to shut the conversation down, to turn things back to business.
"A - a friend died."
"You were a friend of Brendon's, weren't you?" Spencer asks and Brendon startles so bad he trips backwards over a bass. "I thought I recognized you. I saw you at the funeral. You were sitting in the back with that kind of scary dude."
"I, um, yes." Brendon nods and gets to his feet, laughing a little as he straightens back up the bass. "Me and -- and Brendon didn't really hang out much after we reached middle school. But you kind of don't forget your first best friend, right?"
"I still have mine," Spencer says, "But Brendon was unforgettable."
The front door slams open suddenly and they both jump in surprise. "Honey, I'm home!" Greta calls and doesn't wait for Brendon to say anything, just runs over and throws her arms around his neck. He clings back like she's a lifeline, closing his eyes for a moment and burying his face in her neck. "The others got me sent out," Greta says when he pulls back. "They said I was pregnant. Can you believe that? Do I look pregnant?"
"No," Brendon says at once, grinning at her, and she smiles back before turning her attention to Spencer expectantly.
"No?" Spencer says, voice uncertain, and Greta beams.
"Good boys," she says approvingly and holds her hand out for Spencer. "I'm Greta."
"Spencer." He looks at Brendon questioningly, like he's waiting for something, and it isn't until Greta steps lightly on his foot that Brendon realizes they're waiting for him to introduce himself too.
"Boyd," Brendon says before he can think too much on the issue. Greta raises an eyebrow at him and Brendon doesn't trust to shrug back, in case Spencer picks up on it.
"So you're here for the drums, Spencer?" Greta interrupting whatever Spencer had been going to say smoothly, settling herself down behind a drum set. Brendon can't stop grinning at her, she's totally one of those damsels who ends up rescuing the knight.
"Yeah, but I live in Vegas, so I just came in to look," Spencer says and glances down at his watch. "But I gotta go meet a friend. But, um Boyd, maybe we could - could meet up tomorrow at that Starbucks on South Clinton? To talk about Brendon maybe? I kind of have a plane the next day, but I'd - I'd like to talk to someone who knew him. Before."
Greta's eyes are narrowed at him while she pretends to be occupied with the drums. Brendon doesn't look at her as he says, "Yeah, that'd be nice," and he risks a glance at Spencer in time to see the smile on Spencer's face. He can't help but grin back. "I get off at two."
"Great," Spencer's smile widens a little bit more. "I'll see you at two thirty."
"Sure," Brendon nods and he waves at Spencer through the glass once Spencer starts down the street. He doesn't cry, not even when Greta wraps her arms around him again and whispers soothingly into his ear.
then
"Travis McCoy! Finally, someone worthy of my love and adoration. It's my birthday and so far there are only lightweights. Lightweights and the Butcher, what kind of birthday is that?"
"So I take it your usual crowd is running late?" Travis asks, and his smile fonder than Brendon has yet to see it.
"They smoked up without me," the guy responds, spreading his arms in a 'how is this my life' gesture. The beer bottle in his hand clanks against the wall. "They’ve gone to raid a store for food, or kill a hobo and drag him back to roast him in my kitchen."
"You always provide the best snacks, William," Travis remarks and then turns, gesturing to Brendon. "This is my friend Brendon. Brendon, meet William."
"Oh, he's so precious," William coos, stepping closer. Brendon feels kind of like backing away, but Travis is grinning at them - although not so much with encouragement as amusement. But he thinks that since Travis invited him out, he should be polite and besides, William is kind of really pretty. Brendon doesn't really mind getting eyed up by him. "Is that a pink unicorn on your shirt? Oh Travie, you bring me the best gifts."
"I try," Travis agrees as William slings his arm around Brendon's shoulders, pulling him close. "Nothing but the best for you, Bill." He adds, winking at Brendon.
"Ooh," Brendon says once they actually step inside the apartment, bouncing a little. On the wall there's a bunch of shelves with My Little Pony figurines on them. "So pretty."
"Precious." William repeats and Brendon slips from under his arm to go inspect the figurines closer, and ends up talking Disney with a guy in flip-flops. If he'd glanced back, he would've recognized the movement of Travis's hand over William's shoulder. But he doesn't, so when William climbs onto the kitchen counter to 'thank the masses for celebrating this noteworthy day with me' and slips on the way down again, cracking his head first against one counter and again on another in the tiny kitchen before hitting the floor - the shock on Brendon's face is quite real.
People start to scream, but Brendon doesn't pay them much attention as he pushes towards the door; getting out just seconds after Travis, who continues to walk quickly down the stairs. Brendon moves to follow him, but then William is there, the two of them standing under a street lamp - and it's the last moment they have, and Brendon doesn't want to interrupt. He doesn't really have any right to do it either, because he's only known Travis for a couple of weeks. From what Brendon has heard, Travis and William have been an item for three years.
But once the blue light appears, and William starts to slowly walk towards it, glancing back at Travis for nearly every step, Brendon walks over to him, fingers curling around Travis's wrist. "You didn't tell me it was a reap."
"Because it wasn't supposed to be," Travis snaps, breaking free of Brendon's grip with unsurprising ease. His face is wet. "I was going to the party, I'd been planning to go for months and then Zack hands me the post-it for W. Beckett. And - I'm not you, Brendon, I've done those mistakes you're still doing to test the boundaries. You don't realize that there are no options for us. I couldn't get in the way and I had to watch him die because it's my fucking job!"
"I'm really sorry," Brendon says, knows it's a lame thing to say but says it anyway, because he has to say something. Travis glances at him and smiles a little.
"You're a good guy, Bren. I'm really sorry I dragged you to this, but tell - tell everyone goodbye and that I'm sorry." Travis says before he raises his voice, "William, wait!"
"But - but you can't!" Brendon says, following Travis towards where William has stopped. "You can't just leave!"
"I can't stay either," Travis says, completely calm again as he reaches out for William's hand.
"I wish I'd groped you properly earlier, Brendon," William tells him, even as he smiles with delight at Travis. "It's a pleasure I'll never have now. Tell Gabe I take back that comment about the Cobra, I'd have liked it if he was here tonight."
"Bye Brendon," Travis says, reaching one hand out to pull Brendon close for a hug. "Tell the others I'll see them one day."
They disappear into the light, and in the distance there are sirens approaching.
now
"Zack isn't mad at you for saying yes," Gabe says, curled up next to him on the couch in Brendon and Frank's apartment. Frank hasn't really made contact other than a quick u ok? text since the bank reaps, since Gerard had apparently seen part of his face on the news and decided to make his move. "Fuck, if I'd had Vicky-T ask me to talk about Gabe Saporta after I died, I probably would have spilled my fucking guts. Who the fuck are they anyway, showing up in Chicago? Don't you Vegas kids realize there are other cities in the glorious US of A?"
"We're drawn towards your awesome like moths to a flame," Brendon mumbles into Gabe's stomach. "I know Zack isn't mad, but it's - it's me. I should've told him no."
"Would he have accepted no as an answer?" Gabe asks and Brendon has to admit that Spencer probably wouldn't with a shake of his head. Gabe's hand settles in Brendon's hair and scratches idly, comfortingly. "He's going away tomorrow. He doesn't know who you are. This is a total freak occurrence. He'll have forgotten all about it by the time his plane touches down in Vegas."
Brendon doesn't say that he never wants Spencer to forget him - even if the guy Spencer forgets is a lying douche called Boyd who is currently supposed to be sitting with Spencer at a Starbucks on the other side of town, and not the Brendon who he'd been in a band with during high school.
Instead, he closes his eyes and breathes deep.
later
"Brendon, hey," Bob's voice says over the answering machine, his voice annoyed. "Some dude came in asking for a Boyd. I only assume you've been letting your friends do your job - just ask or something. The dude left his phone number, but he seemed pissed. Probably a good thing you're off for a few days since Ray is after your blood." Bob's voice pauses, changes into kind of admiring and Brendon smiles against Gabe's shoulder. "He's been sorting the guitars out for over an hour, still hasn't found the one you hid by the synths. Nice touch, kid."
now
"Why aren't you out like the others?" Brendon asks a few hours later, after he woke up to Gabe offering him a joint - he always has one ready, even if no one can ever find it when they search him for it while he's passed out - and they'd laughed their way through the first Pokemon movie.
"My reap was this morning," Gabe says with a shrug. "You were sleeping."
"But I was there at the diner," Brendon protests and looks up into Gabe's face. "I saw Zack hand you the post-it and I've barely catnapped all day!"
"Yeah, about that," Gabe says and shrugs slightly, "you'll probably get a new neighbor soon."
"J. Kingston? I never really liked him anyway." Brendon sighs and tries to curl closer into Gabe. "He always complained when Frank and I played. He'd hit us with a broom if we walked within reach."
Gabe laughs and pulls Brendon properly into his lap, so that Brendon's head is pillowed on his shoulder. "Ironic, since he impaled himself on the broom. Graveling tripped him. His lights looked totally lame too."
Brendon giggles. "I'm really glad I'm dead with you. Ryland told me you'd bought the Marilyn dress. I can't wait."
"Careful, Urie, or I might think you have thing for guys in drag."
"Nah," Brendon says, and licks a tiny patch of Gabe's neck. "Just you."
Author: bergann
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gabe Saporta/Brendon Urie, hints of Frank Iero/Gerard Way, William Beckett/Travis McCoy, Spencer Smith/Brendon Urie
Summary: The van doesn't come out of nowhere, but to the driver, Brendon does. (Dead Like Me fusion)
Beta: musicianatheart&unrequited-rain
Disclaimer: fic·tion [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination
Word Count: 6 632
Author's Note: Written for bandomficathon. Title is a line from Toxic Girl by Kings of Convenience.
now
"Any guesses to the nature of the reaps, young one?" Gabe asks as they get closer to the destination written on their post-its.
Brendon thinks it over for a second, being careful not to step outside the line he sees by the side of the old road. "Murder," he says eventually. He hasn't reaped anyone who'd died from murder in a while. He's probably due.
"Hm," Gabe says, and Brendon can tell without looking that Gabe is nodding slowly to himself as he thinks it over. "This far out, murder is probably the #1 cause of death. What else are you going to fucking die of out here? Still, to keep things interesting, I say graveling."
"Seriously? I mean, this is like the perfect place for serial killers," Brendon comments and can't help but glance around, nearly falling sideways into a ditch as the gravel slips at his next step. Gabe grabs Brendon's hand without having to look for it and rights him back up, not letting go even once Brendon is no longer in danger of falling over.
"I haven't seen a car in thirty minutes. Where the fuck would the murderer come from?" Gabe gestures around them with his free hand, at the trees and the empty road they've been walking around. "I win, I get - hm - I get ten minutes where you have to follow my lead no matter what I do."
Brendon stares at him, because there are probably deals to be made with the devil that are smarter to agree to than that. "Sure, and if I win, you have to dress like Marilyn Monroe for an entire day. And feed me pancakes."
"Really? That's it?" Gabe purrs, arching an eyebrow. "All you had to do was ask, Bren."
Brendon's answer disappears in a surprised exhalation of air as someone comes running through the tress, crashing into him from the side, sending Brendon into Gabe and both of them to the ground.
"Run!" The person - a woman - shouts back over her shoulder to them as she runs into the trees on the other side of the road.
"Did you get it?" Gabe asks, not because he doubts Brendon's ability to take a soul when he's not expecting it, but because it would really suck if they had to run into the forest after her. Brendon nods once from his sprawl on top of Gabe, cheek brushing briefly against Gabe's neck. "Good, mine's coming up," he says, and rolls them so he's pinning Brendon down and he sticks his hand out, just as a terrified guy comes running out after the woman, stumbling at Gabe's momentary grasp at his ankle, but not pausing. Gabe stares after them, and when he looks down at Brendon, he sees that Brendon's tilted his head back to look after them as well. When he tilts his head back, he catches Gabe's eyes and grins.
"What are you thinking?"
"Sure as fuck not thinking graveling," Gabe tells him, just as something hits the ground next to them. Gabe feels Brendon's sharp intake of breath, sees the way Brendon's eyes go wide in fear, but doesn't look and the thing - creature or human - doesn't pause either, goes after its prey without a glance at them.
"Jesus, what was that?" Brendon whispers and Gabe shrugs, getting to his feet.
"Not a graveling," Gabe says and frowns at the trees. "Bigfoot? Crazy human? Not anything I'd want to meet."
"It didn't even look at us," Brendon says, dusting off his pants. "Maybe it was a bear or something. The scent of our particular deaths always throws them off."
Gabe shrugs, and there is one, then two horrible screams from the forest in front of them. "Murder."
Brendon laughs at him, a shaky one but a laugh nonetheless, and shakes his head. "To be completely fair, I'm letting Zack decide that one."
Gabe shrugs in agreement and they slowly start walking back to the bus stop in silence, waiting for the souls to come walk with them.
then
The van doesn't come out of nowhere. In fact, if Brendon wasn't backing out into the road, shouting sorry after the guy he'd bumped into, he would've been able to step out of the way.
The van doesn't come out of nowhere, but to the driver, Brendon does.
now
Zack votes murder. He shrugs and says, "Wrong time, wrong place, humans are crazy," and slides a cookie over the table to Brendon like he'd known they were just around the corner. "What was the bet anyway?"
Gabe tells Zack while he leers at Brendon over a cup of coffee.
When he's finished, there's a moment where Brendon thinks maybe Zack is going to reach out and shake his hand or something. He looks torn between proud and laughing.
"I will be the sexiest Marilyn you've ever seen," Gabe promises, slouching in the seat grinning. "You will be begging for more by the end, Urie. You totally want my ass."
then
Zack's the one who leads Brendon away from where the van driver is hopelessly trying to administer CPR. "Sorry about that, kid," are the first words Zack says to him. "Otter had a job to do and he did it. It's nothing personal."
"I'm dead."
"No," Zack smiles at him, just a hint of sadness in it, "you're just not alive."
The further away they walk from his body, the stranger Brendon feels. He can't help but think he's dreaming and that it isn't real.
Three days later, at his funeral, Brendon doesn't cry. He's too busy staring at his family, at Spencer, Ryan and Brent, for the last time.
now
Brendon's post-it reads B. Wilson and it's an apartment address. Brendon hates the reaps that happen indoors. "Wanna trade?" He asks Frank, because Frank loves coming up with bizarre lies to get him through the door.
"No trading," Zack says at once.
"But Zack," Brendon whines, "You know I hate the apartments. I bet I have to be buzzed up and be all convincing on the intercom about the reason B. Wilson should let me come reap his soul."
There's a sudden loud bang as Gabe's fist slams into the table, barely avoiding getting stabbed by Greta's fork, "Stay away from my waffles, Saporta."
"You love me, Salpeter," Gabe counters with an easy shrug. "Just say you're a strip-o-gram, Urie. Who wouldn't let a strip-o-gram up?"
"Never in the mornings," Greta denies, but she is smiling a little. "Besides, you keep Brendon away from your sketchy life; I'm not letting you corrupt him anymore than I'm letting you have one of my waffles."
"C'mon, Bren, you're gonna be late again," Frank says, even though he's cackling and looking prepared to jump into the discussion. "I'll walk you to the store."
"I don't think Gerard is up at this hour," Brendon says, not really protesting, because the walk to his paying job is kind of boring to walk on his own, and he's forgotten his iPod back at the apartment.
"Fuck you," Frank says, hiding his blush by pulling his beanie further down than usual. "Maybe I'm coming with because I want to see Bryar and Toro."
"They might die of shock," Brendon says, pulling on his gloves and wriggling his green fingers at the others.
"Hold up," Zack says, shoving Gabe to the floor as he slides out of the booth. "My reap is in your direction."
"Awesome," Brendon beams, and Frank doesn't need more encouragement than that to jump on Zack's back and cling there on the way out of the diner. Zack rolls his eyes but doesn't complain, grinning slightly to himself.
then
The day after his funeral, Zack takes him to Chicago. "I don't understand," Brendon whispers once they are in the air, a phrase he's been repeating a lot in the - god, days he's been dead. "If you're - based, I don't know what you'd call it, but if you're that in Chicago, why was I on your list?" Zack shrugs and doesn't say anything, so Brendon presses on, "Doesn't Vegas have its own you-know-whats?"
"They do," Zack says, glancing sideways at him. "But they didn't get the post-it. I did. The instructions arrive at my door and I carry them out or pass them on."
"You don't question it?" Brendon asks, quietly, because he's spent the last two years questioning everything his parents - his religion - had taught him. He doesn't think he can just blindly follow something a post-it note tells him.
"Of course I do," Zack says, and there is no way he knew about Brendon's family - it hadn't been mentioned at the funeral and Brendon hadn't told - but he still places a comforting hand on Brendon's shoulder like he does know anyway. "I question and I curse and I'm not happy with it most of the time, but the work we do is important. Remember that tomorrow when we go out: we rarely get thanked, but without us, the world would never stop screaming. With us, at least people find peace in the end."
now
Brendon's shift at the store ends at seven. It's half an hour until Brendon's appointment with B. Wilson, and it's raining outside. He'll probably be drenched by the time he makes it to the apartment, but a drenched reaper is better than no reaper at all for B. Wilson.
He makes it to the apartment building with ten minutes to spare, and apparently today's his day, because just as he arrives someone is leaving and he can slip right in without having to try and convince B. Wilson to buzz him up. He takes the stairs to the third floor slowly, counting in his head, so by the time he's standing outside apartment number 5, he has a total of five minutes left.
He rings the doorbell, and there's a shout of 'Jesus, you guys are early!' that sounds strangely familiar, but Brendon doesn't place it until the door is yanked open and he's staring into a very familiar face.
"Brent," Brendon gasps in shock, thinking no, thinking he can't do this, he can't reap Brent.
then
The first reap Brendon tries to save is J. Hugh. He has already reaped three times by then, twice on his own - but he just can't see or understand the things that make the rest of them, Frank and Gabe and Travis and Zack, act like the reaps are nothing. Whatever it is that makes them able to watch people get killed day after day, knowing they have a chance to save them.
So he goes to a bookstore and hides away until way after 7.46 PM which is when the post-it Zack had slid under the apartment door when Brendon didn't show up at the diner had said the ETD would be.
Zack grabs him when he finds him, lifts him right off the ground, and carries him to the morgue. J. Hugh has died even without Brendon there to reap, and is still there - trapped inside the body, about to be trapped in a coffin for the rest of eternity, screaming and conscious.
now
"I can't believe this," Brent says, sitting on the couch and staring at Brendon - too many expressions on his face at once, impossible for Brendon to decipher, especially after all these years. "You -- I was at your funeral. You died. You can't be here, I mean - it's probably just because I'm dead too, now, right?"
"I got what you could call a deal," Brendon says without humor, shaking his head. "A deal I never wanted. I'm not alive and I'm not dead, but once I was Brendon Urie from Las Vegas."
"So what are you?"
"I'm a Grim Reaper," Brendon spreads his hands, "I take the souls of those about to die. I ease their passing and guide them on their way."
"But how is that possible? I mean, you still look the same," Brent runs a hand through his hair. "You look exactly the same. You sound the same. It's like the past couple of years never happened at all."
"I don't though. When you opened the door, you didn't - didn't see me. You saw the new me, the new face of Brendon Urie. My face, my body, it's something else to those who are still breathing." Brendon smiles a little at him. "You only see me now as you knew me back then because you died. The information is useless to you now."
"This is - this is insane," Brent hisses suddenly and gets to his feet. "You're dead. There can't - there can't exist a whole world of Grim fucking Reapers without anyone knowing. My friends are probably going to be here soon to tell me this is all some really fucking awful joke."
"I'm sorry," Brendon whispers, and the kitchen is replaced by brilliant blue light. He can't see what Brent's light looks like, the doorway is too small and Brent is standing in the way, but he has no doubt it's as beautiful as the lights of everyone else. The lights are always beautiful. Brent is staring into it; afraid yet clearly ready to step into whatever is calling him.
"So this is really it," Brent says eventually and looks over his shoulder at Brendon.
"This is really it." Brendon nods, smiling shakily. "I'm really sorry, Brent, for - for everything."
He reaches out and touches Brent's shoulder briefly, right before Brent disappears into his light.
The room looks depressing in the wake of the light, and Brendon wipes his eyes at the sleeve of his hoodie. "I owed you so much," he whispers to the dead body by the hallway closet, blood still pooling out on the floor from where Brent's head had been cracked open by a bowling ball. The graveling that had pushed it is long gone.
Brendon steps over the body and closes the door to Brent Wilson's apartment quietly.
then
Brendon hasn't really given any thought to why no one had said anything, those three days he walked around in Vegas with Zack, why no one pointed at him and screamed when he and Zack sat in on his own funeral. At first he'd thought he was in a coma and everything was a dream, and then he had just moved onto the assumption that no one but Zack could see him. And once he'd arrived in Chicago, he hadn't given it any thought. His face is still the same in the mirror every morning.
"Well yeah," Frank says, when Brendon points that last part out after Frank asked what the new him looked like. "'Cause mirrors don't keep secrets. Death can't change who you are, it just changes how those who live see you. You seriously haven't taken a look at the new you?"
"How do you do it?" Brendon demands, slightly horrified that no one has told him about this before now, five whole days after he came to Chicago!
"C'mon," Frank says, bouncing to his feet, "I'll show you."
Frank drags him to an electronics store that has a television screen with attached camera facing the street. Brendon is never quite clear on how long he stood there, just staring at the person everybody but the reapers apparently perceive him to be now.
He looks older and shorter. Not much shorter, but enough so that the face that is staring back at him through the television with smaller lips, eyes and nose is both utterly new to him and still familiar. His hair is shorter, too, and dark blonde, and if Brendon is totally honest with himself, he looks a lot cooler like this than he ever had before.
"Huh," Frank says contemplatively. "You're pretty hot."
"I'm always hot," Brendon replies at once and with a last glance at the television, starts to walk down the street. He doesn't want anyone from the store asking why they're just hanging around, eyeing themselves up on the TV. "Anything else would be a lie."
"Sure, but us reapers, we usually don't end up looking our best to everyone still alive." Frank shrugs. "Usually we look like we've grown up with a fucking drug problem, like we're the ones seconds away from knocking on Death's door. I'm just sayin’ that the Brendon we saw just now was pretty hot for a guy who'd been dead for 8 days."
now
Brendon likes to use the lulls between costumers to try his hand at the instruments in the store, or practice those he already knows. The first time Bob walked back into the room to find Brendon by the piano; his reaction was just a shrug. Ray and Bob don’t seem to care so long as Brendon stops as soon as someone walks through the door. On the really slow days, Ray sits down with a guitar next to him, or Bob settles down behind the drums. Brendon doesn't comment on it, just grins and switches over to something they all know.
It's one of the many reasons why Brendon's paying job is pretty much the best thing ever. He also gets to hang out with Bob and Ray, he earns his share of the apartment rent with some left over for groceries and fun things and he gets to play instruments practically every day.
If he hadn't died, he'd be playing instruments every day with Ryan, Spencer and Brent.
He doesn't like to think about that, and whenever the thought sneaks up on him, Brendon just plays harder or talks faster.
But after Brent, he finds himself remembering the days spent in Spencer's garage, and it doesn't hurt as much as usual.
He's not really paying attention, fingers playing out a tune without Brendon's conscious decision to play anything, and it isn't until someone clears their throat behind him that he guiltily realizes he's playing songs by Panic! Songs he hasn't played since he died. "Sorry," he says as he turns, "Bob got rid of the bell by the door so I can't hear it when --" Brendon fumbles for a moment, staring in shock, because standing in front of him is Spencer Smith. "--the door opens. I mean, I could sit at one of the other pianos so that I have some sort of visual on the door, but I really like this piano, and Bob says the bell is too annoying to keep for that."
"What was it you were playing just now?" Spencer asks, apparently ignoring Brendon's word-vomit. He used to do that before too, but he always looked more amused about the all the words Brendon couldn't help but share.
Brendon has to remind himself to breathe. He doesn't look the same anymore. Spencer won't recognize him. "I don't know, I mean, sometimes when I'm thinking, my fingers just play on their own. I'm sorry if I, like, completely butchered a really good song."
"No," Spencer says slowly, frowning. "It just sounded like something my old band played."
"Oh!" Brendon says and tries to smile wide. "You're in a band? That's so cool, what music do you play?"
"I'm not in a band," Spencer says, voice emotionless. "It didn't last."
"You must play still though," Brendon says, keeping surprise out of his voice and off his face. Spencer doesn't play in a band anymore. He carefully doesn't let himself wonder why. "I mean, you're here so I can only assume you're looking for an instrument."
Spencer nods and with a last strange glance at the piano, walks over to the drums. Brendon slips his phone out of his pocket and sends blast frm past @ store. need hlp!!! to the last used number, before he follows to have some sort of post-death heart attack and earn the money Bob and Ray pay him.
then
A couple of weeks after Brendon comes to Chicago, Gabe starts complaining about how no one in their group has a completely insane death. "I heard there's this reaper who got killed by a toilet seat from outer space. What kind of awesome deaths do we have? None, that's how many."
"Um," Brendon says and then figures that this is as good an opening as any, "How did you guys die? I mean, is that rude or inappropriate or something, asking how you died? Because you don't have to tell me, I'm just curious."
Frank giggles. "Like we care about someone being rude or inappropriate. That's like Gabe's default setting."
"Francis, I resent the implication that I am rude. My Mama raised me right; I have the best of manners."
"It's not rude, Brendon," Travis says, "We'd probably have mentioned it sooner or later."
"Oh, good," Brendon says, relaxing a little, because they all seem really cool and he doesn't want to piss anyone off. "So, how did you die?"
"I was in the second World War," Travis says quietly, eyes getting a far-away looking in them for a moment. "Stepped on a landmine."
"I was parachuting, and a graveling fucking cut the straps. Went crashing right down." Frank kicks viciously at the table leg. "Passed out before I hit the road, though."
Brendon turns his eyes to Gabe, who just grins back at him for a moment before he says, "I got bit by a cobra. I was trying my hand at snake charming, got promised it was totally harmless. Man, was I pissed when the guy came back to pick the snake up. Got a really good kick in later."
"What about Zack?" Brendon asks after everyone is silent for a moment.
"Who knows," Travis says with a shrug. "Zack's been here longer than any of us. He doesn't mention it, and we don't ask. The way we figure is he'll tell when he's ready."
Brendon nods. He hasn't really talked about how he died yet either, but the others don't look at him like they're expecting him to share so soon either. They've probably had years to get used to talking about it. "I got hit by a van. I'd just had a really huge fight with my band, because I’d been kicked out by my parents and had to work extra shifts to pay for my apartment, and they wanted to play more 'cause this guy Pete was going to come hear us play. I ran out and I wasn't really looking where I was going, I just wanted to walk for a bit, and I bumped into this guy and turned to apologize, and - and died."
No one says anything, but Frank curls up by Brendon's side and Travis shoves Gabe's plate of fries over with a smile. Gabe doesn't protest, so Brendon smiles at all of them and thinks that being dead isn't so bad, so far.
now
It only takes a minute before Brendon's phone is ringing, and he makes apologetic hand motions at Spencer as he answers. "Gabe, why are you calling, you're supposed to be here."
"Brendon, man, did you forget? We're all at that bank being robbed. I'm a hostage, dude."
"What?" Brendon shrieks, and Spencer startles, shooting him a questioning look that Brendon decides to ignore. "Why was mine the only one different?"
"The body count is only going to be four," Gabe's voice reasons. "But one's the gunman so we had to stick around. He's going to realize I'm on the phone any second though, so what's going on?"
Brendon eyes Spencer's back, and even though Spencer seems to be studying one of the drum sets, Brendon wouldn't put it past him to be listening in. "Panic!" He says, walking a little bit away, "Drummer!"
"Holy shit," Gabe says, "Spencer Smith walked into your shop? You reaped that other guy not too long ago too, what the fuck are the odds?"
"I am being haunted by my past," Brendon feels a little bit like crying. "I'm the one who's fucking dead! If anyone's supposed to be haunting, it's supposed to be me!"
On the other end of the line there's what sounds like a scuffle and Gabe's voice saying 'ow, work abuse!' before Zack's voice is on the line. "Brendon, you're really serious about this?"
"Yes! I am totally serious about this! Remember that time you wished Frank was alive so you could kill him because he set your new car on fire? I am even more serious." Brendon says, trying to keeping his voice down, but he's never really been the best at that. But Spencer's still over by the drums and Brendon's all the way over with the keyboards. "Ray and Bob aren't here today and you are all hostages, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"
"Jesus," Zack breathes and then clears his throat a little. "Just, just treat him like a customer, Brendon. Act like you don't know the guy, because you don't, not anymore. That life is dead; you gotta remember that, so treat him like a total fucking stranger. He won't recognize you unless you make him."
"But it's Spencer," Brendon says quietly. He used to curl up with Spencer on the couch and discuss stupid shit. Spencer didn't roll his eyes as much as the others whenever Brendon came bouncing in with a Disney DVD, and he didn't question the first night Brendon came over in the middle of the night in need of a place to sleep. Spencer didn't laugh or push him away when Brendon kissed him the day he died.
He isn't sure what his voice sounds like, but Zack's voice is as gentle as it gets when he eventually answers, "I know that, but you gotta try, Bren. You don't want him to find out. You can't have both lives. Someone will be there as soon as possible."
Zack hangs up before Brendon can say anything to that, and he takes a few deep breaths as he just stares at his phone, before he walks back over to Spencer with a fake smile on his face. "Sorry about that. Have you made a decision yet?"
"You okay, dude?" Spencer asks, frowning at him and it isn't fair that Spencer can still read Brendon, even if he isn't aware it's Brendon he's looking at. "You look kind of upset."
"I'm fine, just --" Brendon waves his hands in the air for a moment, brain desperately searching for a plausible reason to be upset, before he settles on, "--boyfriend trouble."
"Ah," Spencer says and his nod is knowing. Brendon wants to tell Spencer that it isn't fair - he was supposed to be the reason for knowing nods like that. Except Brendon has -- well, Brendon kind of has Gabe, so it's only fair Spencer should have someone too. Brendon wants Spencer to be as happy as possible. "Are there any drumsticks around? I mean, I looked but I didn't see any and I kind of want to try them out before I decide on anything."
"Yeah, no of course!" Brendon nods and goes to get the drumsticks from behind the counter. "We get some little shits in here sometimes. Bob's taken to hiding them away, he says maybe they'll learn to respect the instruments if they're not allowed to play them without asking."
Spencer grins a little at him and settles down behind the drums. He starts drumming out the beats for Camisado and Brendon wants to laugh hysterically. He busies himself with rearranging the guitar display, wondering how long it'll take Ray to notice, until he realizes the store has fallen silent again. He looks up at and can't help but blush a little when he realizes Spencer is sitting behind the drums, watching him. But there's an answering blush appearing on Spencer's cheeks at being caught at it, so Brendon smiles and says, "How did you like it?"
"It's - it's good. Better than my old one." Spencer says and looks at his hands. "Just weird. I've had my old drums forever."
Brendon makes an agreeing sound. "I made this spontaneous move once. Had to replace all my instruments. It felt weird at first, I just kept thinking of the instruments I'd been learning on and suddenly couldn't play anymore."
"Why the spontaneous move?" Spencer asks, and Brendon looks at him and can't bring himself to shut the conversation down, to turn things back to business.
"A - a friend died."
"You were a friend of Brendon's, weren't you?" Spencer asks and Brendon startles so bad he trips backwards over a bass. "I thought I recognized you. I saw you at the funeral. You were sitting in the back with that kind of scary dude."
"I, um, yes." Brendon nods and gets to his feet, laughing a little as he straightens back up the bass. "Me and -- and Brendon didn't really hang out much after we reached middle school. But you kind of don't forget your first best friend, right?"
"I still have mine," Spencer says, "But Brendon was unforgettable."
The front door slams open suddenly and they both jump in surprise. "Honey, I'm home!" Greta calls and doesn't wait for Brendon to say anything, just runs over and throws her arms around his neck. He clings back like she's a lifeline, closing his eyes for a moment and burying his face in her neck. "The others got me sent out," Greta says when he pulls back. "They said I was pregnant. Can you believe that? Do I look pregnant?"
"No," Brendon says at once, grinning at her, and she smiles back before turning her attention to Spencer expectantly.
"No?" Spencer says, voice uncertain, and Greta beams.
"Good boys," she says approvingly and holds her hand out for Spencer. "I'm Greta."
"Spencer." He looks at Brendon questioningly, like he's waiting for something, and it isn't until Greta steps lightly on his foot that Brendon realizes they're waiting for him to introduce himself too.
"Boyd," Brendon says before he can think too much on the issue. Greta raises an eyebrow at him and Brendon doesn't trust to shrug back, in case Spencer picks up on it.
"So you're here for the drums, Spencer?" Greta interrupting whatever Spencer had been going to say smoothly, settling herself down behind a drum set. Brendon can't stop grinning at her, she's totally one of those damsels who ends up rescuing the knight.
"Yeah, but I live in Vegas, so I just came in to look," Spencer says and glances down at his watch. "But I gotta go meet a friend. But, um Boyd, maybe we could - could meet up tomorrow at that Starbucks on South Clinton? To talk about Brendon maybe? I kind of have a plane the next day, but I'd - I'd like to talk to someone who knew him. Before."
Greta's eyes are narrowed at him while she pretends to be occupied with the drums. Brendon doesn't look at her as he says, "Yeah, that'd be nice," and he risks a glance at Spencer in time to see the smile on Spencer's face. He can't help but grin back. "I get off at two."
"Great," Spencer's smile widens a little bit more. "I'll see you at two thirty."
"Sure," Brendon nods and he waves at Spencer through the glass once Spencer starts down the street. He doesn't cry, not even when Greta wraps her arms around him again and whispers soothingly into his ear.
then
"Travis McCoy! Finally, someone worthy of my love and adoration. It's my birthday and so far there are only lightweights. Lightweights and the Butcher, what kind of birthday is that?"
"So I take it your usual crowd is running late?" Travis asks, and his smile fonder than Brendon has yet to see it.
"They smoked up without me," the guy responds, spreading his arms in a 'how is this my life' gesture. The beer bottle in his hand clanks against the wall. "They’ve gone to raid a store for food, or kill a hobo and drag him back to roast him in my kitchen."
"You always provide the best snacks, William," Travis remarks and then turns, gesturing to Brendon. "This is my friend Brendon. Brendon, meet William."
"Oh, he's so precious," William coos, stepping closer. Brendon feels kind of like backing away, but Travis is grinning at them - although not so much with encouragement as amusement. But he thinks that since Travis invited him out, he should be polite and besides, William is kind of really pretty. Brendon doesn't really mind getting eyed up by him. "Is that a pink unicorn on your shirt? Oh Travie, you bring me the best gifts."
"I try," Travis agrees as William slings his arm around Brendon's shoulders, pulling him close. "Nothing but the best for you, Bill." He adds, winking at Brendon.
"Ooh," Brendon says once they actually step inside the apartment, bouncing a little. On the wall there's a bunch of shelves with My Little Pony figurines on them. "So pretty."
"Precious." William repeats and Brendon slips from under his arm to go inspect the figurines closer, and ends up talking Disney with a guy in flip-flops. If he'd glanced back, he would've recognized the movement of Travis's hand over William's shoulder. But he doesn't, so when William climbs onto the kitchen counter to 'thank the masses for celebrating this noteworthy day with me' and slips on the way down again, cracking his head first against one counter and again on another in the tiny kitchen before hitting the floor - the shock on Brendon's face is quite real.
People start to scream, but Brendon doesn't pay them much attention as he pushes towards the door; getting out just seconds after Travis, who continues to walk quickly down the stairs. Brendon moves to follow him, but then William is there, the two of them standing under a street lamp - and it's the last moment they have, and Brendon doesn't want to interrupt. He doesn't really have any right to do it either, because he's only known Travis for a couple of weeks. From what Brendon has heard, Travis and William have been an item for three years.
But once the blue light appears, and William starts to slowly walk towards it, glancing back at Travis for nearly every step, Brendon walks over to him, fingers curling around Travis's wrist. "You didn't tell me it was a reap."
"Because it wasn't supposed to be," Travis snaps, breaking free of Brendon's grip with unsurprising ease. His face is wet. "I was going to the party, I'd been planning to go for months and then Zack hands me the post-it for W. Beckett. And - I'm not you, Brendon, I've done those mistakes you're still doing to test the boundaries. You don't realize that there are no options for us. I couldn't get in the way and I had to watch him die because it's my fucking job!"
"I'm really sorry," Brendon says, knows it's a lame thing to say but says it anyway, because he has to say something. Travis glances at him and smiles a little.
"You're a good guy, Bren. I'm really sorry I dragged you to this, but tell - tell everyone goodbye and that I'm sorry." Travis says before he raises his voice, "William, wait!"
"But - but you can't!" Brendon says, following Travis towards where William has stopped. "You can't just leave!"
"I can't stay either," Travis says, completely calm again as he reaches out for William's hand.
"I wish I'd groped you properly earlier, Brendon," William tells him, even as he smiles with delight at Travis. "It's a pleasure I'll never have now. Tell Gabe I take back that comment about the Cobra, I'd have liked it if he was here tonight."
"Bye Brendon," Travis says, reaching one hand out to pull Brendon close for a hug. "Tell the others I'll see them one day."
They disappear into the light, and in the distance there are sirens approaching.
now
"Zack isn't mad at you for saying yes," Gabe says, curled up next to him on the couch in Brendon and Frank's apartment. Frank hasn't really made contact other than a quick u ok? text since the bank reaps, since Gerard had apparently seen part of his face on the news and decided to make his move. "Fuck, if I'd had Vicky-T ask me to talk about Gabe Saporta after I died, I probably would have spilled my fucking guts. Who the fuck are they anyway, showing up in Chicago? Don't you Vegas kids realize there are other cities in the glorious US of A?"
"We're drawn towards your awesome like moths to a flame," Brendon mumbles into Gabe's stomach. "I know Zack isn't mad, but it's - it's me. I should've told him no."
"Would he have accepted no as an answer?" Gabe asks and Brendon has to admit that Spencer probably wouldn't with a shake of his head. Gabe's hand settles in Brendon's hair and scratches idly, comfortingly. "He's going away tomorrow. He doesn't know who you are. This is a total freak occurrence. He'll have forgotten all about it by the time his plane touches down in Vegas."
Brendon doesn't say that he never wants Spencer to forget him - even if the guy Spencer forgets is a lying douche called Boyd who is currently supposed to be sitting with Spencer at a Starbucks on the other side of town, and not the Brendon who he'd been in a band with during high school.
Instead, he closes his eyes and breathes deep.
later
"Brendon, hey," Bob's voice says over the answering machine, his voice annoyed. "Some dude came in asking for a Boyd. I only assume you've been letting your friends do your job - just ask or something. The dude left his phone number, but he seemed pissed. Probably a good thing you're off for a few days since Ray is after your blood." Bob's voice pauses, changes into kind of admiring and Brendon smiles against Gabe's shoulder. "He's been sorting the guitars out for over an hour, still hasn't found the one you hid by the synths. Nice touch, kid."
now
"Why aren't you out like the others?" Brendon asks a few hours later, after he woke up to Gabe offering him a joint - he always has one ready, even if no one can ever find it when they search him for it while he's passed out - and they'd laughed their way through the first Pokemon movie.
"My reap was this morning," Gabe says with a shrug. "You were sleeping."
"But I was there at the diner," Brendon protests and looks up into Gabe's face. "I saw Zack hand you the post-it and I've barely catnapped all day!"
"Yeah, about that," Gabe says and shrugs slightly, "you'll probably get a new neighbor soon."
"J. Kingston? I never really liked him anyway." Brendon sighs and tries to curl closer into Gabe. "He always complained when Frank and I played. He'd hit us with a broom if we walked within reach."
Gabe laughs and pulls Brendon properly into his lap, so that Brendon's head is pillowed on his shoulder. "Ironic, since he impaled himself on the broom. Graveling tripped him. His lights looked totally lame too."
Brendon giggles. "I'm really glad I'm dead with you. Ryland told me you'd bought the Marilyn dress. I can't wait."
"Careful, Urie, or I might think you have thing for guys in drag."
"Nah," Brendon says, and licks a tiny patch of Gabe's neck. "Just you."