Fic: Don't Care About The Presents (Brendon/Bob)
TitleDon't Care About The Presents (Underneath The Christmas Tree)
Fandom/Pairing Bandom- Panic!, My Chem, FOB. Brendon/Bob, Ryan/Spencer, Pete/Patrick
Rating PG
Summary “Bob Bryar is Santa’s apprentice and he’s in our living room delivering our presents and he looks kind of hot in a red suit and also Spencer is not in his bed and I am worried and this whole thing is weird,” Brendon blurted out in a rush.
Disclaimer Fictional. Did not happen. Bob is not Santa's apprentice (or is he?)
A/N Xmas fic for alex_boylove, who asked for Bob/Brendon aaaages ago and I suck. Now gimme another weird pairing!
It was the night before Christmas and all through the cabin not a creature was stirring.
Except one Brendon Urie, who had just been rudely awakened from a dream (in which he was a merman, living in an octopus’s garden, spending lazy days exploring the reef) by a loud crash and the sound of someone swearing rather inventively.
Brendon lay in his bed, covers pulled up to his chin. He stared at the ceiling, eyes wide, and listened. There were several more bangs and crashes, and a lot more swearing that was definitely not Ryan or Spencer or Jon.
Brendon slipped quietly from his bed, looking around for a weapon before finally settling on the guitar controller from Guitar Hero (that Brendon had hidden away the previous evening when Spencer had beaten him for the millionth time). He snuck from his room, tiptoeing down the hallway, then pushed open the door to the lounge, jumping inside with the guitar brandished over his head.
“Aaaah!” Brendon yelled, then dropped the guitar in surprise. “S-santa?”
The guy in the red suit, who was currently crouched by the tree that they had decorated earlier in the day (and then Ryan had taken all the decorations down and redone it himself), froze.
“Is that the pony I asked for?” Brendon asked, then shut his mouth. “I mean…put your hands where I can see them and step away from the presents, burglar who is dressed as Santa!”
Not-Santa turned around and Brendon’s jaw dropped.
“Bob?” he asked. “Bob Bryar? What. What. WHAT THE FUCK?”
Bob help up his hands placatingly. “Okay,” he said. “Don’t freak out, Urie. This isn’t what it looks like.”
“It looks like you’re either robbing us, or you’re Santa Claus.”
Bob frowned. “I promise I’m not robbing you,” he said, and Brendon’s eyes grew wide.
“No way,” he said. “No. Ryan said Santa’s not real and that it’s really fucking worrying my parents managed to carry on with the charade for so long without me realising it was all a vast web of lies parents use to tie their children up in the commercialism of the holiday season.”
Bob laughed. “That’s only because Ryan’s been on the naughty list for years and years. The first time I went to visit Uncle Nick, I checked everyone I knew. It explains a whole lot.”
“Uncle Nick,” Brendon repeated. “Ha ha. This isn’t funny. How did you get here anyway?”
Bob smirked. “I got a ride,” he said. “Look,” he added, leading the way to the window and pulling the blinds aside so Brendon could look out at the sleigh, attached to three reindeer, one of them with a nose that shone bright red in the darkness.
“Huh,” Brendon said, and had to sit down.
“You’re…?” he managed eventually, and Bob shook his head, laughing.
“It’s kind of complicated. Uncle Nick is, like, my great great uncle or something. And he was struggling a bit this year so he called me and my dad to give him a hand. It’s my first year, so I got Rudolph to make sure I got from place to place okay. I kind of feel like I got sucked into some made-for-TV holiday movie, except there’s no ex-Charlie’s Angel co star like I was expecting.”
Brendon stared at him. “Can you wait right here?” he asked, edging back towards the door. “Promise you won’t leave until I come back?”
Bob shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “I still have presents to put under the tree. Spencer asked for a lot of gifts this year. And, hey, those cookies,” he pointed at the plate Brendon had left out, despite Ryan’s mocking, “are they for me?”
Brendon nodded, then almost ran from the room.
“Spencer!” he whispered, pushing open Spencer’s bedroom door. “Spencer!”
But Spencer’s bed was empty. In fact, it looked like it hadn’t been slept in at all. Worried, Brendon crept into Jon’s room, crouching at the side of the bed so his face was level with Jon’s. Brendon whispered his name, over and over until one of Jon’s eyes cracked open a sliver.
“Brendon,” Jon said, voice heavy with sleep.
“Bob Bryar is Santa’s apprentice and he’s in our living room delivering our presents and he looks kind of hot in a red suit and also Spencer is not in his bed and I am worried and this whole thing is weird,” Brendon blurted out in a rush.
Jon’s eye closed again. “Go back to sleep,” he said, and rolled over to make room for Brendon in his bed. Brendon stared, tempted, at the warm space for a moment, then shook his head.
“But Spencer is missing!” he exclaimed. “And also Bob is Santa.”
“Spencer’s probably in Ryan’s room,” Jon yawned. “And say hi to Bob for me.”
Brendon frowned, then stomped down to Ryan’s room.
“Is Spencer in here?” he demanded when he pushed the door open.
“Go away, Brendon,” Spencer said.
“I thought you’d been kidnapped,” Brendon informed him, jumping onto the end of the bed. “By Bob Bryar. Who is in our lounge, delivering presents. I think he’s Santa.”
“There’s no such thing as Santa,” Ryan said, sounding annoyed. “And there’s apparently no such thing as privacy around here either. I don’t care if the whole of My Chem are having a wild rave party in our lounge, dressed in hula skirts and coconut bras while Mikey does a strip tease on top of the dining room table. Next time, you knock.”
Brendon pouted. “Guys, please. Bob. Bob is dressed as Santa in our lounge.”
“Oh for-“ Ryan started to say, then made a high squeaking noise.
Spencer laughed, and Ryan gave a strange groaning sound and kicked the covers back enough that Brendon was maybe going to need brain bleach to rid himself of that image.
“Um,” Brendon said, jumping up and backing away from the bed. “I think I’ll just…”
“Goodnight, Brendon,” Spencer said, as Brendon shut the door firmly behind him.
“Are you okay?” Bob asked when Brendon reappeared in the lounge. “You look pale.”
“I hope the only thing you’ve got in your sack for Ryan is a lump of coal,” Brendon said, picking up the cookies. “He’s been a bad, bad boy. You do not want to go into his room right now.”
Bob looked like he kinda maybe did, but took a cookie from the offered plate. Brendon helped himself to a gingerbread man and bit the head off viciously, feeling better from the sugary goodness almost immediately.
“Well, I’ve got to go,” Bob announced, brushing the crumbs off his red suit. “I’ve got the whole of North and South America to get done tonight.
“No!” Brendon exclaimed. “You can’t! You have to tell me everything about being Santa Claus’s apprentice. You have to let me pet the reindeer!”
Bob hesitated as he picked up his sack. “Hey,” he said. “Why don’t…why don’t you come with me?”
Brendon’s heart maybe stopped for a split second. “Are you serious?”
Bob shrugged. “Why not? It gets kind of lonely and cold up there.”
“I can totally keep you company. And keep you warm,” Brendon added, scurrying away to put on his hat and mittens before Bob could change his mind or tell Brendon he didn’t want him to keep him warm. It wasn’t Brendon’s fault that Bob looked so cute and cuddly in the red suit.
Rudolph nuzzled at Brendon’s shoulder when they stepped outside into the cold night air.
“Can I keep him?” Brendon asked, as Bob tugged him by the hood, dragging him to the sleigh and giving him a boost to get on.
“I think Uncle Nick might miss him,” Bob said. “Plus all the kiddies would be sad if Rudolph wasn’t pulling at least one of the sleighs.”
Brendon nodded seriously.
“Don’t laugh,” Bob warned, then picked up the reins. “On Dasher, On Dancer, On Rudolph!” he shouted, and with a jolt the sleigh began to move, sliding smoothly into the air. Brendon looked down as the lights from the cabin glittered below them, smaller and smaller as they rose into the cool night air.
It was exhilarating. It was enthralling. It was…well, it turned out to be a bit boring, what with all the stopping and starting, flying a dozen feet to a neighbouring roof and waiting in the sleigh while Bob disappeared down the chimney for a few minutes. It was warm, wrapped in the blankets inside the sleigh, and the soft rocking motion of the reindeer pulling the sleigh was soothing enough that Brendon felt his eyelids start to droop.
What felt like only a few minutes later, Bob was gently shaking him awake.
“Mmph?” Brendon asked, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. “Where are we?”
“I thought you might want to help me with this one,” Bob said, grabbing his sack and sliding out of the sleigh, heading across the snow topped roof towards the chimney.
Brendon scrambled down, pausing to pat Rudolph lightly on the nose as he passed. “Where are we?” he repeated, frowning at the very narrow chimney. Even though he’d watched Bob do this at least a hundred times, it didn’t seem possible to fit down so tiny a space.
“It’s Patrick’s place,” Bob said, grabbing Brendon’s hand and twitching his nose before he could say anything.
There was an awful sensation of falling through somewhere dark and then Brendon was stepping out of Patrick’s fireplace, brushing soot off his pants.
“Shh,” Bob said, holding his finger to his lips and nodding across the room, before heading to the tree in the corner.
The glowing embers in the fireplace, and the flicker of the TV screen, showing the last few minutes of The Nightmare Before Christmas, were the only light to fill the room, but Brendon could make out the slumbering forms of Patrick and Pete on the sofa, Pete’s head resting on Patrick’s chest, rising and falling with the steady breath of contented sleep.
“Aww!” Brendon resisted the urge to clap his hands together lightly, but Patrick cracked open an eye and looked at him.
“Hey,” he said sleepily, not sounding too surprised to find Brendon standing in the middle of his living room.
“Go back to sleep,” Brendon said. “It’s almost Christmas and Santa Bob has put your presents under the tree.”
“Whatever you say,” Patrick yawned, snuggling closer to Pete as his eyes fell shut again and he started to snore lightly.
“Let’s go,” Bob said in his ear. “That’s us done. It’s almost dawn and I have to put the reindeer to bed.”
Brendon nodded, smiling once more at his slumbering friends, then followed Bob to the fireplace, taking his hand and feeling the rush of air as they popped back out on the roof again.
“That’s it,” Bob said. “I’ll take you back now.”
Brendon shook his head. “What about your place?” he asked. “Don’t you have to leave a gift for yourself?”
Bob laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners, hat flopping forwards. “It doesn’t work like that. Santa doesn’t get gifts, and neither do his helpers. The sack is empty, for another year.”
“That’s stupid,” Brendon said, picking up the sack and peering inside. He paused for a moment, looking up at Bob, standing in the snow in the ridiculous Santa suit, bemused expression on his face as he watched.
“You’re wrong,” Brendon announced suddenly. “It’s not empty. Look!” and he practically climbed into the sack.
“Um,” he said a moment or two later. “Think you could give me a hand here?” he asked, and heard Bob chuckle, before two strong arms lifted him to his feet and then pulled the sack from over his head.
Revealing Brendon, hair mussed, standing with his arm stretched over his head, a sprig of mistletoe clutched between his fingers.
“Um,” Brendon said. “Merry Christmas?”
Bob laughed. “Where did you get that?” he asked, nodding at the mistletoe.
“It’s Christmas,” Brendon told him. “I always carry some. In case of emergencies. Oh, alright then,” he said when Bob raised an eyebrow. “I swiped it from Patrick’s mantelpiece. But that’s not the point.”
Brendon stared up at Bob, biting his bottom lip as Bob looked at him for a long minute.
“You’re insane, Urie,” Bob said, then lent in and kissed him briefly.
“I should warn you,” Brendon said, grinning cheekily as he wrapped his arms around Bob’s neck and stopped him from pulling away. “That I’m not just for Christmas.”
Bob kissed him again, and this time Brendon kissed back, knocking the Santa hat off in the process. They watched as it slid down the incline of the roof and onto Patrick’s front stoop.
Brendon frowned, but Bob just shrugged and pulled Brendon towards the sleigh.
“Are you going to put me under your tree?” Brendon asked as they took to the air again.
“I can think of much better places to put you,” Bob replied, landing on top of his apartment a moment or two later.
Brendon paused only long enough to say goodnight to the reindeer, then followed Bob to the stairs that led down into the building, just as the sun peeked over the horizon and Christmas day dawned.
Fandom/Pairing Bandom- Panic!, My Chem, FOB. Brendon/Bob, Ryan/Spencer, Pete/Patrick
Rating PG
Summary “Bob Bryar is Santa’s apprentice and he’s in our living room delivering our presents and he looks kind of hot in a red suit and also Spencer is not in his bed and I am worried and this whole thing is weird,” Brendon blurted out in a rush.
Disclaimer Fictional. Did not happen. Bob is not Santa's apprentice (or is he?)
A/N Xmas fic for alex_boylove, who asked for Bob/Brendon aaaages ago and I suck. Now gimme another weird pairing!
It was the night before Christmas and all through the cabin not a creature was stirring.
Except one Brendon Urie, who had just been rudely awakened from a dream (in which he was a merman, living in an octopus’s garden, spending lazy days exploring the reef) by a loud crash and the sound of someone swearing rather inventively.
Brendon lay in his bed, covers pulled up to his chin. He stared at the ceiling, eyes wide, and listened. There were several more bangs and crashes, and a lot more swearing that was definitely not Ryan or Spencer or Jon.
Brendon slipped quietly from his bed, looking around for a weapon before finally settling on the guitar controller from Guitar Hero (that Brendon had hidden away the previous evening when Spencer had beaten him for the millionth time). He snuck from his room, tiptoeing down the hallway, then pushed open the door to the lounge, jumping inside with the guitar brandished over his head.
“Aaaah!” Brendon yelled, then dropped the guitar in surprise. “S-santa?”
The guy in the red suit, who was currently crouched by the tree that they had decorated earlier in the day (and then Ryan had taken all the decorations down and redone it himself), froze.
“Is that the pony I asked for?” Brendon asked, then shut his mouth. “I mean…put your hands where I can see them and step away from the presents, burglar who is dressed as Santa!”
Not-Santa turned around and Brendon’s jaw dropped.
“Bob?” he asked. “Bob Bryar? What. What. WHAT THE FUCK?”
Bob help up his hands placatingly. “Okay,” he said. “Don’t freak out, Urie. This isn’t what it looks like.”
“It looks like you’re either robbing us, or you’re Santa Claus.”
Bob frowned. “I promise I’m not robbing you,” he said, and Brendon’s eyes grew wide.
“No way,” he said. “No. Ryan said Santa’s not real and that it’s really fucking worrying my parents managed to carry on with the charade for so long without me realising it was all a vast web of lies parents use to tie their children up in the commercialism of the holiday season.”
Bob laughed. “That’s only because Ryan’s been on the naughty list for years and years. The first time I went to visit Uncle Nick, I checked everyone I knew. It explains a whole lot.”
“Uncle Nick,” Brendon repeated. “Ha ha. This isn’t funny. How did you get here anyway?”
Bob smirked. “I got a ride,” he said. “Look,” he added, leading the way to the window and pulling the blinds aside so Brendon could look out at the sleigh, attached to three reindeer, one of them with a nose that shone bright red in the darkness.
“Huh,” Brendon said, and had to sit down.
“You’re…?” he managed eventually, and Bob shook his head, laughing.
“It’s kind of complicated. Uncle Nick is, like, my great great uncle or something. And he was struggling a bit this year so he called me and my dad to give him a hand. It’s my first year, so I got Rudolph to make sure I got from place to place okay. I kind of feel like I got sucked into some made-for-TV holiday movie, except there’s no ex-Charlie’s Angel co star like I was expecting.”
Brendon stared at him. “Can you wait right here?” he asked, edging back towards the door. “Promise you won’t leave until I come back?”
Bob shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “I still have presents to put under the tree. Spencer asked for a lot of gifts this year. And, hey, those cookies,” he pointed at the plate Brendon had left out, despite Ryan’s mocking, “are they for me?”
Brendon nodded, then almost ran from the room.
“Spencer!” he whispered, pushing open Spencer’s bedroom door. “Spencer!”
But Spencer’s bed was empty. In fact, it looked like it hadn’t been slept in at all. Worried, Brendon crept into Jon’s room, crouching at the side of the bed so his face was level with Jon’s. Brendon whispered his name, over and over until one of Jon’s eyes cracked open a sliver.
“Brendon,” Jon said, voice heavy with sleep.
“Bob Bryar is Santa’s apprentice and he’s in our living room delivering our presents and he looks kind of hot in a red suit and also Spencer is not in his bed and I am worried and this whole thing is weird,” Brendon blurted out in a rush.
Jon’s eye closed again. “Go back to sleep,” he said, and rolled over to make room for Brendon in his bed. Brendon stared, tempted, at the warm space for a moment, then shook his head.
“But Spencer is missing!” he exclaimed. “And also Bob is Santa.”
“Spencer’s probably in Ryan’s room,” Jon yawned. “And say hi to Bob for me.”
Brendon frowned, then stomped down to Ryan’s room.
“Is Spencer in here?” he demanded when he pushed the door open.
“Go away, Brendon,” Spencer said.
“I thought you’d been kidnapped,” Brendon informed him, jumping onto the end of the bed. “By Bob Bryar. Who is in our lounge, delivering presents. I think he’s Santa.”
“There’s no such thing as Santa,” Ryan said, sounding annoyed. “And there’s apparently no such thing as privacy around here either. I don’t care if the whole of My Chem are having a wild rave party in our lounge, dressed in hula skirts and coconut bras while Mikey does a strip tease on top of the dining room table. Next time, you knock.”
Brendon pouted. “Guys, please. Bob. Bob is dressed as Santa in our lounge.”
“Oh for-“ Ryan started to say, then made a high squeaking noise.
Spencer laughed, and Ryan gave a strange groaning sound and kicked the covers back enough that Brendon was maybe going to need brain bleach to rid himself of that image.
“Um,” Brendon said, jumping up and backing away from the bed. “I think I’ll just…”
“Goodnight, Brendon,” Spencer said, as Brendon shut the door firmly behind him.
“Are you okay?” Bob asked when Brendon reappeared in the lounge. “You look pale.”
“I hope the only thing you’ve got in your sack for Ryan is a lump of coal,” Brendon said, picking up the cookies. “He’s been a bad, bad boy. You do not want to go into his room right now.”
Bob looked like he kinda maybe did, but took a cookie from the offered plate. Brendon helped himself to a gingerbread man and bit the head off viciously, feeling better from the sugary goodness almost immediately.
“Well, I’ve got to go,” Bob announced, brushing the crumbs off his red suit. “I’ve got the whole of North and South America to get done tonight.
“No!” Brendon exclaimed. “You can’t! You have to tell me everything about being Santa Claus’s apprentice. You have to let me pet the reindeer!”
Bob hesitated as he picked up his sack. “Hey,” he said. “Why don’t…why don’t you come with me?”
Brendon’s heart maybe stopped for a split second. “Are you serious?”
Bob shrugged. “Why not? It gets kind of lonely and cold up there.”
“I can totally keep you company. And keep you warm,” Brendon added, scurrying away to put on his hat and mittens before Bob could change his mind or tell Brendon he didn’t want him to keep him warm. It wasn’t Brendon’s fault that Bob looked so cute and cuddly in the red suit.
Rudolph nuzzled at Brendon’s shoulder when they stepped outside into the cold night air.
“Can I keep him?” Brendon asked, as Bob tugged him by the hood, dragging him to the sleigh and giving him a boost to get on.
“I think Uncle Nick might miss him,” Bob said. “Plus all the kiddies would be sad if Rudolph wasn’t pulling at least one of the sleighs.”
Brendon nodded seriously.
“Don’t laugh,” Bob warned, then picked up the reins. “On Dasher, On Dancer, On Rudolph!” he shouted, and with a jolt the sleigh began to move, sliding smoothly into the air. Brendon looked down as the lights from the cabin glittered below them, smaller and smaller as they rose into the cool night air.
It was exhilarating. It was enthralling. It was…well, it turned out to be a bit boring, what with all the stopping and starting, flying a dozen feet to a neighbouring roof and waiting in the sleigh while Bob disappeared down the chimney for a few minutes. It was warm, wrapped in the blankets inside the sleigh, and the soft rocking motion of the reindeer pulling the sleigh was soothing enough that Brendon felt his eyelids start to droop.
What felt like only a few minutes later, Bob was gently shaking him awake.
“Mmph?” Brendon asked, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. “Where are we?”
“I thought you might want to help me with this one,” Bob said, grabbing his sack and sliding out of the sleigh, heading across the snow topped roof towards the chimney.
Brendon scrambled down, pausing to pat Rudolph lightly on the nose as he passed. “Where are we?” he repeated, frowning at the very narrow chimney. Even though he’d watched Bob do this at least a hundred times, it didn’t seem possible to fit down so tiny a space.
“It’s Patrick’s place,” Bob said, grabbing Brendon’s hand and twitching his nose before he could say anything.
There was an awful sensation of falling through somewhere dark and then Brendon was stepping out of Patrick’s fireplace, brushing soot off his pants.
“Shh,” Bob said, holding his finger to his lips and nodding across the room, before heading to the tree in the corner.
The glowing embers in the fireplace, and the flicker of the TV screen, showing the last few minutes of The Nightmare Before Christmas, were the only light to fill the room, but Brendon could make out the slumbering forms of Patrick and Pete on the sofa, Pete’s head resting on Patrick’s chest, rising and falling with the steady breath of contented sleep.
“Aww!” Brendon resisted the urge to clap his hands together lightly, but Patrick cracked open an eye and looked at him.
“Hey,” he said sleepily, not sounding too surprised to find Brendon standing in the middle of his living room.
“Go back to sleep,” Brendon said. “It’s almost Christmas and Santa Bob has put your presents under the tree.”
“Whatever you say,” Patrick yawned, snuggling closer to Pete as his eyes fell shut again and he started to snore lightly.
“Let’s go,” Bob said in his ear. “That’s us done. It’s almost dawn and I have to put the reindeer to bed.”
Brendon nodded, smiling once more at his slumbering friends, then followed Bob to the fireplace, taking his hand and feeling the rush of air as they popped back out on the roof again.
“That’s it,” Bob said. “I’ll take you back now.”
Brendon shook his head. “What about your place?” he asked. “Don’t you have to leave a gift for yourself?”
Bob laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners, hat flopping forwards. “It doesn’t work like that. Santa doesn’t get gifts, and neither do his helpers. The sack is empty, for another year.”
“That’s stupid,” Brendon said, picking up the sack and peering inside. He paused for a moment, looking up at Bob, standing in the snow in the ridiculous Santa suit, bemused expression on his face as he watched.
“You’re wrong,” Brendon announced suddenly. “It’s not empty. Look!” and he practically climbed into the sack.
“Um,” he said a moment or two later. “Think you could give me a hand here?” he asked, and heard Bob chuckle, before two strong arms lifted him to his feet and then pulled the sack from over his head.
Revealing Brendon, hair mussed, standing with his arm stretched over his head, a sprig of mistletoe clutched between his fingers.
“Um,” Brendon said. “Merry Christmas?”
Bob laughed. “Where did you get that?” he asked, nodding at the mistletoe.
“It’s Christmas,” Brendon told him. “I always carry some. In case of emergencies. Oh, alright then,” he said when Bob raised an eyebrow. “I swiped it from Patrick’s mantelpiece. But that’s not the point.”
Brendon stared up at Bob, biting his bottom lip as Bob looked at him for a long minute.
“You’re insane, Urie,” Bob said, then lent in and kissed him briefly.
“I should warn you,” Brendon said, grinning cheekily as he wrapped his arms around Bob’s neck and stopped him from pulling away. “That I’m not just for Christmas.”
Bob kissed him again, and this time Brendon kissed back, knocking the Santa hat off in the process. They watched as it slid down the incline of the roof and onto Patrick’s front stoop.
Brendon frowned, but Bob just shrugged and pulled Brendon towards the sleigh.
“Are you going to put me under your tree?” Brendon asked as they took to the air again.
“I can think of much better places to put you,” Bob replied, landing on top of his apartment a moment or two later.
Brendon paused only long enough to say goodnight to the reindeer, then followed Bob to the stairs that led down into the building, just as the sun peeked over the horizon and Christmas day dawned.