Down on the Farm. [1/2.]
Title: Down on the Farm.
Author: causticmayhemx
Pairing: Ryan Ross//Brendon Urie.
Rating: NC17.
Word Count: 11247.
Summary: Mrs. Ross, fed up with her son's destructive and illegal behavior, decides to send him to live with a friend of the family over the summer before his senior year. The worst part is, he's staying on a farm.
Disclaimer: 100% faux.
A/N: I don't know how I came up with this idea but Tari made me write it (seriously, she forced me). Major thanks to Aria who constantly looked over it and reassured me when I was worried.
Down on the Farm.
"Mom, I don't even know these people! I am not going to spend an entire summer with people I don't know all the way across the country!" Ryan yelled.
"Ryan, calm down," his mother said. "This will be a good experience for you. Besides, you need to get away from your...friends."
"My friends have nothing to do with this."
"They damn well do, and you know it," she said angrily. "You've been suspended three times this year and last night was the final straw."
Ryan rolled his eyes. "Here we go."
"Yes, here we go! I got a call from the police saying you had been arrested, Ryan," she yelled. "Because of your friends!"
"Don't involve them in this."
"So you did all of it on your own?"
Ryan sighed.
"You burned someone's house down, Ryan! Do you know who else burned houses down? Serial killers," she said, nodding. "Do you want to be a serial killer?"
He scoffed. "I'm not a killer, mom. Setting one fire doesn't equal killer."
His mother sighed. "I told the cops that I would take care of your punishment because you're underage. You're lucky they agreed. And this is what's going to happen. The Urie's were kind enough to agree to let you stay with them this summer. You're going and that is final."
Ryan shook his head, crossing his arms. "You can't make me do anything."
"Oh, but I can. Because I'll be damned if my son turns out to be another Ted Bundy."
"Stop talking like an idiot, mom. Do you know anything about the homicidal triad? Because, hey, Slash wets the bed and he's not a killer. No. He's in a band. That statement was completely asinine."
"Go to your room and pack. We're leaving in the morning at 8. Our train leaves at 9," she said, crossing her arms and walking away.
Ryan stood in the middle of the kitchen for a moment. There was so much he wanted to say to his mother, but he held his tongue. Leaving. In the morning. Within the next eight hours, he would be leaving. Gone. He would be leaving Vegas and going to Arkan-geor-ippi-ana or wherever. He would be spending the summer before his senior year with a family he didn't know (and therefore didn't like) all because of some stupid teenage fun.
"Well, fuck you, too," he muttered, walking down the hall to his room and slamming the door shut. His mother might've been forcing him to go, but he'd be damned if he'd go quietly or easily. She wasn't making it easy on him and he wouldn't make it easy on her.
+
"You're not twelve anymore, Ryan. Are you going to ignore me the entire train ride there?" his mother asked.
Ryan sighed. "I'm not ignoring you. I just think this whole situation sucks dick."
"Watch your language," she warned.
He rolled his eyes. "Why should you care? You won't have to deal with me all summer, so why don't you just suck up all of my negative energy now?" he smiled sweetly.
His mother rolled her eyes. "We'll be there in about an hour."
"Woohoo."
When the train finally rolled to a stop and Ryan and his mother got their bags and got off the train, his nose immediately wrinkled. He looked around. The train station was small. The buildings were smaller. He hoisted the strap of his backpack higher up on his shoulder. He kept quiet as his mother called for a cab. The ride to the house seemed to feel longer than the train ride to wherever he was.
At least an hour later, the car pulled to a stop and his mother asked the cab driver to wait for her before getting out of the car. Ryan followed slowly and felt so out of place. He was waiting for a tumbleweed to blow across the street; it didn't happen. The road was dirt and gravel and there was only one house within eyesight. Ryan felt his stomach drop. He couldn't believe he was going to spend an entire summer in the middle of nowhere.
"Where the hell am I?"
"Mississippi," his mother said. "Nice change of pace, isn't it?"
Ryan looked at his mother, a look of horror on his face. "No. Not a nice change of pace. A bad one. A very, very bad one. This place is evil."
"You've been here two minutes."
"Yeah, and I already know it's evil," Ryan said, squinting his eyes from the sun. It was unnaturally bright out for nearly four in the afternoon.
"Give it a chance. You're going to be stuck here so you might as well make the best of it," she said. "Now let's go. They're waiting."
"That's such a mom thing to say," he grumbled. "And of course they're waiting. That was probably the only car they've seen within four miles of here in ten years."
His mother rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a child, Ryan. You can handle one summer away from home."
"There are so many things wrong with this," he complained. "The summer before my senior year. I should be spending this with friends. Not on a fucking... Oh my God. Is this seriously a farm?"
"If you were spending it with friends, you would only end up in jail. It's this or the military, Ryan. Take your pick," she told him.
"Is this a farm?!" Ryan asked, eyes wide.
His mother didn't meet his eyes.
"Mom! This is a fucking farm! I did not pack for a farm! You didn't tell me this was a farm! I have no sunscreen! Fuck, this summer is going to suck!"
"Don't be so over dramatic," she said, walking up the steps to the front door. Before she could knock on the door, it swung open and a woman came out, screaming, hugging his mother.
Ryan's eyes were wide, frightened, and he took a step back.
"Clarice!"
"Linda!"
Ryan looked between them. He had never seen his mom so happy.
His mother pulled back and smiled. "It's so good to see you, Linda!"
"Oh, it's been far too long," she said. "You must be Ryan. My, you were just a little boy the last time I saw you. What were you, two?"
"I think he was three," Ryan's mother said.
"Yeah, people tend to grow over the years," Ryan said. "I was one of them. I'm crazy that way."
"Ryan," his mother warned. "Act like the gentlemen I taught you to be."
"Okay, give me some matches. I'll go burn down their barn," he said sarcastically, crossing his arms.
His mother frowned at him. "Don't let him near fire. It's what got him into this mess in the first place. It's like I told you on the phone, I just cannot control him," she said, attempting to be quiet but it didn't work. She hadn't even lowered her voice at all.
Ryan rolled his eyes. "Okay, mom, I learned my lesson. Take me back to Vegas, please. People actually live there."
"Ryan! Please act with a sense of decorum. I raised you better than this--"
If you raised me so well, I wouldn't have set fire to someone's house. Then we wouldn't be here. Now what? Ryan thought to himself, but he didn't articulate it.
"--You are their guest. You will be polite," she said.
Linda waved a hand. "I have two sons and two daughters. I know how teenagers act, Clarice, it's okay," she said. "You can act like yourself, Ryan. You will be here for a while. Come in, both of you. Make yourself comfortable."
"Oh, no, I couldn't," Ryan's mother said. "I really can't keep the driver waiting. I have to get back to the station."
Ryan's eyes widened. "Mother, you cannot go. You cannot leave me here. I don't fit in. Where can I wear my Dolce and Gabbana boots? Nowhere! Mother, you take me with you right now."
His mother laughed. "This is exactly why you're here, Ryan. You need to be around people who aren't like you. People who will make you want to become a better person."
Ryan frowned. "Mom, please don't leave me here."
"Enjoy your summer, Ryan. Call me a lot," she said, kissing his forehead. "Hey," she said, causing their eyes to meet. "You're going to be just fine. I'll see you in late August. I love you."
"Yeah, yeah, you, too," he muttered, sulking even further. He watched her walk away and, when the car was finally out of view, he turned to Linda. He looked her up and down, taking her her faded, flowered dress and white apron. "This is a scene out of a movie. Straight out of some horrible movie."
Linda laughed. "Come on inside, dear. I'll show you your room," she said, taking one of his bags.
Ryan sighed and followed Linda into the house. It was older, clearly rustic. The floors were hardwood, pictures littering the walls. There was a small television in the large family room, connected by a swinging door to the kitchen, which they walked through in order to get to the staircase near the back door. It was old and creaked with every step. The wallpaper on the wall was dirty and Ryan didn't even touch the handrail. Linda led him down the hallway and opened the last door on the left, smiling.
"You'll be sleeping in here with my oldest son. My other son is bunking with my older daughter. She's not happy about that," she said, smiling. "You can talk with him about which bunk you get. I think he's out back. You should go find him and introduce yourself."
Ryan looked at her as if she was crazy. "I can't get these shoes muddy. They're leather. They were very expensive."
She laughed. "You can borrow some boots if you would like."
"I think I'd rather go barefoot," he said, dropping his bags onto the floor.
"Suit yourself. Dinner will be in about an hour. It'd be nice if you could try to enjoy yourself."
"I will do that," he said sarcastically. "I think I'm just...gonna walk around," he said, kicking off his shoes and rolling up the bottom of his pants. He looked down. "Wow, I feel like an idiot."
Linda smiled and ruffled his hair. "You'll do just fine."
He followed her out of the room but went out the back door instead of walking towards the kitchen. He pulled his sunglasses over his eyes and stepped off the porch slowly and into the dust. He cringed. His feet were already dirty. He hated that feeling. He looked out across the land. He couldn't see anything at all.
"I'm in the middle of nowhere," he muttered. He looked past the barn and paused. Someone was walking his way. A rather attractive someone. He felt himself smile as the guy walked closer. Ryan began to walk a little bit closer to him, hoping to make the situation a little less awkward and, when he was within distance, stuck out his hand. "Hi. I'm Ryan."
"Brendon." He took Ryan's hand and smiled, his teeth white and brown eyes shining. "So you're the arsonist?"
Ryan felt himself smile. "God, what exactly did my mom tell yours? I don't even want to know."
"Just don't burn my house down and we'll get along just fine," he told him. "So you're from Vegas?"
"Yeah. And you...live on a farm," Ryan commented, trying to keep the disgust out of his voice.
Brendon laughed. "Yeah, that's me. Don't sound so displeased, Ryan. It'll be a fun summer," he said, smirking.
Ryan felt something in his stomach twist. Were they seriously flirting? A farmer? "Yeah, probably not. I doubt there's a mall anywhere near here. And what are the odds I get Internet access here?"
"We have WiFi," Brendon assured him, pulling his shirt over his head.
Ryan's eyes widened and trailed down his tan chest, over his abs and he forced his eyes up. "WiFi? Really?" he asked, clearing his throat.
"Yup," he said, using his shirt to wipe the sweat from the back of his neck and his chest. He caught Ryan's eyes and laughed. "What?"
"Nothing," he said, looking down at his feet, covered in dirt. "My feet are filthy."
"That's nothing. Wait until you feed the pigs with me," he smiled. "That's gonna be filthy."
Ryan gawked at him. "Are you seriously implying I have to do...farm work around here?"
Brendon laughed again. "Wow, you're seriously against this farm stuff, aren't you?"
"I'm against doing manual labor and getting filthy and not being able to wear my nice clothes," Ryan said.
"Nice clothes?"
"I like vests," Ryan said, shrugging.
"What do you even know about farming?" Brendon asked.
"Just what I've seen in Brokeback Mountain," Ryan answered honestly.
"That was not about farming. That was about anal sex."
Ryan felt his neck get hot. "Well, cowboys did farm work, right?"
Brendon's eyes widened. "This isn't Brokeback Mountain. Well, not the sheep herding part," he said.
Flirting? "I get that already. You're not wearing a cowboy hat," Ryan told him.
"Hats mess up my hair," Brendon replied, running a hand through his dark hair. "Well. I'm going to go shower. You should help my mom with dinner. I'm willing to bet you've never peeled a potato in your life."
"You would be right," Ryan said.
Brendon shook his head. "I'm trying to wrap my head around you, city boy, and it's not working. C'mon," he said, leading him inside. "Hey, ma! I'm gonna shower and then I'll help you with dinner!"
"Okay!"
Brendon looked at Ryan. "Well. It was nice to meet you, city boy. And I call top."
Ryan knew his heart shouldn't have been pounding against his chest at the subtle innuendo, but it was. "What?"
"Bunk. Top bunk. I like the danger," Brendon smiled. "See you soon."
Ryan watched him walk up the stairs. "Wow," he whispered to himself. Who knew that farmers would have such a hot ass?
+
Ryan awkwardly walked into the kitchen and he leaned against the wall by the refrigerator. "Um. Do you need any help with anything?" he asked quietly.
Linda turned around. "Actually, yes. Do you know how to churn butter?"
Ryan stilled, shaking his head.
She laughed. "That was a joke, Ryan. We're not that old-fashioned. Could you set the table for me? There will be seven of us. The plates are to your right."
"Okay," he said, opening a cupboard and grabbing seven dinner plates. "Will there be any soup or salad?" he asked.
"We have a salad every night," she told him.
"Salad bowls it is," he muttered, grabbing seven of the bowls. "Um. Where is the silverware?"
"Right by the dishwasher, honey."
"Okay." Ryan set up the plates and bowls on the table and went to grab the silverware, setting a knife, fork, and spoon by every single plate. When he was done, he leaned back and smiled at his handiwork.
"That is one gorgeous table."
Ryan turned around. "Thank you."
Brendon smiled. "You're welcome. I think it's the nicest table we've ever had."
"Are you mocking me?" Ryan asked, a hint of humor in his voice.
"A little bit," Brendon said, kissing his mom on the cheek. "Oh, man, cheesy fried potatoes?! You are the best!"
"Look in the oven," she told him.
He maneuvered around his mother and opened the oven. "Crescent rolls?! You spoil me."
She laughed. "Get those out of the oven for me and then get your siblings and your father."
"All right," he said.
"Ryan, honey, would you be a dear and set these dishes on the table for me? Be careful with the pork; it's hot," she said.
"Sure," Ryan nodded. He grabbed the dishes one by one and set them on the table.
Brendon handed Ryan a bowl filled with the crescent rolls and winked at him before walking out of the room.
Ryan set them in the middle of the table and opened the refrigerator. He grabbed a can of Coke before turning to Linda. "Is it okay if I drink this?"
Linda laughed, scooping the potatoes into a dish. "Of course, honey. You know, you're going to be staying here for a few months. You don't have to ask about every little thing," she told him.
"Right. Sorry," he said quietly, setting his drink on the table.
Linda set the dish down on the table. "It's okay."
Before Ryan could get a chance to respond, he heard what he thought was a stampede. He looked around and saw five people all enter the kitchen at the same time. They all looked exactly the same: tall, tan, dark hair and eyes. Mr. Urie was graying on the sides and Ryan wasn't surprised when he automatically sat at the head of the table. Brendon sat down next, across from where Ryan was planning on sitting.
All of them were talking loudly, just to be heard over one another. Ryan was so used to being in a house where it was just him and his mother--the volume of their voices was already giving him a migraine. Ryan took a seat and opened his can of Coke, taking a large drink.
Brendon sent him a curious look. "Hey! Quiet down, guys," he said.
His sister rolled her eyes. "We don't have to listen to you, Brendon," she said.
"You kind of do, Liz," he said. "Okay, introductions. This is Ryan, he's from the city. This is my sister Liz, she's fourteen," he said, pointing to the girl on his left. "Next to her is Joe, he's sixteen. Annie is the youngest, she's nine. I'm the oldest, I turned eighteen in April. And that. That is my dad, Ed, and you know my mom," he finished.
Ryan smiled politely. "Hello."
"Tell us something about yourself," Linda suggested.
"Yeah, where are you from?" Liz asked, piling food onto her place.
"Um, I"m from Vegas," he said, taking a helping of potatoes and green beans.
"Do you gamble?" Annie asked.
"Do you know any showgirls?" Joe asked, his eyes wide.
Ryan smiled. "Um, I'm only seventeen, so I don't gamble. And I'm not really into the whole showgirl scene."
"I bet you aren't," Brendon muttered.
"Would you like some pork, Ryan?" Ed offered, motioning towards the plate in the center of the table.
"Oh, no, thank you. I don't eat meat," Ryan said.
Liz and Joe dropped their forks, causing them to clatter against their plates. Ryan looked up and everyone was staring at him in shock. Except Brendon. No, Brendon was staring at Ryan with a look in his eye that Ryan couldn't place.
"That's a shame," Brendon told him.
Ryan looked down to his plate. He didn't contribute much to the conversation. He had no idea exactly what Brendon was doing. He almost felt a little awkward for wanting to flirt with him back--he did have to stay there for the whole summer.
"Jon's coming over after dinner," Brendon announced.
"Oh, that's good. He hasn't been around for a while," Linda noted.
Liz made a kissy face towards Brendon, which caused Ryan's eyes to widen.
"Stop it, Liz," Brendon joked, smiling. "Don't do that near Jon; he'll throw mud at you again."
Liz laughed. "Or maybe he'll push me in the lake again. That was fun."
"There's a lake here?" Ryan asked, head snapping up and voice hopeful. He was hoping there was one, it would make the days pass so much quicker.
"Yeah, it's back past the trees. Jon and I can take you back there if you want," Brendon offered.
Ryan smiled, reaching for a crescent roll. "I would like that. I never got to swim a lot in Vegas. And if I did, it was in a public pool, and I haven't been in one of those for years."
"We go swimming all of the time," Annie told him. "But I can't go unless Brendon or Joe go with me. And they never do."
"I'll go with you," Ryan said, smiling and hugging her shoulder; she smiled. Ryan already liked her.
"Good. Then you won't be bugging me all summer," Joe said.
Brendon reached behind Liz and hit his brother upside the head. "Be nice."
"Don't hit your brother," Ed warned.
"Sorry," Brendon muttered.
"What's for dessert?" Annie asked.
"I'm baking a cake after dinner," Linda said. "You feed the calves when you're done, okay?"
Annie nodded. "Okay. Ryan, do you want to help?"
"Um. What do I have to do?" he asked wearily.
"They're only nine weeks old so you just hold the bottle. It only takes a few minutes," Linda told him.
"Oh. Okay, I guess. Sure," he said, shrugging. "As long as they don't bite me."
Brendon laughed. "They won't bite you. But they might suck on your fingers."
Ryan paused. "Really?"
Brendon nodded.
"O...kay."
+
"That was surprisingly fun," Ryan said, sitting on the steps leading up to the back porch next to Annie.
Annie smiled. "I love our calves. They're so cute."
"I definitely have to wash my hands," Ryan muttered. "I have cow saliva all over me."
She laughed. "They like you."
"I like them, too."
"Will you feed them with me every day?"
"Sure," Ryan said, smiling. "You're so adorable; how can I say no?"
Annie smiled, hugging him. "You're the best. I like you more than my stupid brothers."
Ryan laughed. "Thanks, I think," he said, kicking off the boots he borrowed and brushing off his jeans.
"I'm gonna go help my mom with the cake. You can look around the barn if you want. Brendon and Jon should be around here somewhere," she told him. "Thank you again, Ryan."
He smiled, nodding, and stood up after he heard the door shut behind him. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. It was nearly eight and he only had two bars of service. He had no idea how he would survive if he couldn't text anyone all summer. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and walked on out to the first barn. The door was already open and he wrinkled his nose at the smell, but it wasn't too bad. He looked over the top of one stall and just saw hay and mud over the bottom. He moved to the second one and Brendon and some other boy sitting inside, talking.
"Oh, sorry to interrupt. I'll just go," Ryan said.
"No, no, join us," Brendon said, standing up and opening the door. "Seriously. We don't bite. We're just talking. This is the only place we get privacy."
"Okay." Ryan shoved his hands further into his pockets and sat down on a thicker part of the hay, hoping to be further away from the mud, and he rocked back and forth slightly.
"I'm Jon," the other boy said, stretching out a hand.
Ryan took it. "Ryan. How old are you?"
"Hmm? Oh, nineteen," Jon said. "Why?"
"You just...have a very full beard for a nineteen year old."
Jon laughed. "I get that a lot. It's my pride and joy," Jon said. "So you're staying with Brendon?"
"Yeah, for the whole summer, I guess," Ryan said.
Jon smiled. "Sounds like you two will have fun."
Brendon grinned. "Oh, yes. Yes, we will."
"So why exactly are you here? Are you really an arsonist?" Jon asked.
"No, I'm not. An arsonist wouldn't admit to doing it, they go on anonymous, or something. So I'm not technically an arsonist. And I don't even like burning things. My friends and I were bored and we hated the bitch who lived there," Ryan said.
"Why did you hate her?"
"She hated us?" Ryan shook his head. "She was your stereotypical old, religious lady. And that's cool and all, I'm all for religion and old ladies. But not the homophobic ones," he said, shrugging. "So, uh. Some friends and I were drinking a little bit and decided to burn her house down. If I was eighteen, I'd be in jail so. I'm glad I'm underage, for once. But I'm not glad that I was sent here."
Brendon nodded. "Thanks, man."
"Oh, shit, no. I didn't mean it like that," Ryan corrected himself. "I meant it, like. I miss my home. I miss my friends there. My ideal summer wasn't staying with a family I don't know on a farm." He paused. "That sounds just as bad. Sorry."
Brendon smiled. "I was just fucking with you, man. Anyone looking at you can tell that you don't want to be here. But at least you're trying to enjoy it. And I'm surprised you're being so nice to Annie."
"She's adorable," Ryan said. "I'm an only child so, I don't know. The thought of siblings really appeals to me."
"So where are you from, Ryan?" Jon asked, kicking off his flip flops and resting his chin on his palm.
"Vegas. I've lived in the city my whole life so, this. This is a change of pace," he said.
"Yeah, he's our little city boy," Brendon said, patting him on the knee.
Jon ran a hand over his hair. "Do you like it here so far?"
Ryan shrugged. "It could be worse. The time difference is fucking with me, though. And the fact that this is nothing like back home. I should try to make the best of it, I guess, so that's what I'm trying to do. I just...think half of my wardrobe is going to be obsolete."
"Borrow Brendon's pants. I mean, they might not fit right since his ass is huge but--"
"My ass is not huge!"
"It's huge," Jon said, nodding. "Anyway. You could probably borrow his pants."
Ryan bit his lip. "I don't think I've ever borrowed someone's clothes before."
Brendon's eyes were wide. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah. I just. I don't like the thought of wearing something that someone else has worn," he said, shuddering slightly.
"You're kind of prissy, aren't you?" Jon asked. "A bit of a queen?"
Ryan rolled his eyes. "Not really. It's just what I'm used to. I grew up differently than you guys--"
"Yeah, I never burned down someone's house," Jon said.
"Okay, I get it, I set a fire. Big fucking deal. Can you lay off of that?" Ryan asked. "That would be great. Thanks."
Jon smiled. "Okay. That's fair."
"Wanna see the lake?" Brendon asked.
Jon sent him a look.
"I was trying to change the subject. Let's go," he said, taking Jon's hand and standing up. "You coming?"
Ryan nodded. "Yeah," he said, waiting for Jon to slip his flip flops back on, before standing up and following them out of the barn. He paid close attention on the walk there. He intended to go to the lake as much as he could and he didn't think getting lost would be a good idea, especially out in the middle of nowhere. Jon and Brendon walked about five feet in front of him, talking and laughing, hands occasionally brushing and Ryan couldn't help but feel that he was invading on something. He also couldn't help but feel a little bit bitter. Why would Brendon hit on him if he was so clearly interested and involved with Jon?
"It's right past here," Brendon said, sending him a glance over his shoulder and pointing beyond the trees. "It's not too hard to find. A while ago, Joe and me, we marked all of the trees, but I don't think that you can tell anymore."
Ryan nodded. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and he wasn't surprised when he saw that he had no service.
"It's only half a mile away from the house, but we own all of the land for about a mile or two out, so. It's all private property," Brendon explained. "Sometimes over the summer, especially near graduation and the start of school, we get a lot of kids from school out here, thinking they're cool for trespassing on our land. We don't usually do anything about it, though, because it's just a waste, so," he shrugged.
"Okay," Ryan said.
"I doubt he's interested, Brendon. Why don't you just tell him how we usually go skinny dipping?" Jon suggested.
Brendon laughed. "Yeah, there's that, too. See, I work on the farm all day. And I mean, all day. So when I'm done, I usually just strip and get into the lake. Jon and I started this tradition a while ago, we just thought it would be more fun to swim naked. So we do. So if you ever go swimming with us, lose the clothes or don't bother coming out here," Brendon said.
"I'm not swimming naked," Ryan said.
"Your loss," Jon muttered. "Have fun sitting on the pier."
"Think I will," Ryan mumbled, feeling himself smile when he saw the lake come into view. "Oh, it's gorgeous."
Brendon nodded, peeling off his shirt and tossing it onto the pier. Jon's shirt was next.
"You're going swimming now? But the sun is going down-- Won't it be cold?" Ryan asked.
"That's the best time," Jon said, throwing his shirt off and kicking his flip flops aside and unbuckling his pants.
Brendon looked over at him, shoving his pants off his hips. "Why? You uncomfortable?"
Ryan rolled his eyes. "I'm from Vegas. No nudity makes me uncomfortable."
Jon laughed. "Nice."
Ryan didn't wait for anything else. "I'm just gonna go back. I'm tired. It was nice to meet you, Jon," he said, and he turned around and started walking back. Brendon yelled for him to stop and come back, but he didn't. He just wasn't in the mood for anything involving anyone. He walked quickly through the land and, when Brendon's house came into view, he breathed a sigh of relief. He made his way into the house and managed to avoid everyone else there; the house was oddly quiet anyway.
Ryan slipped up the stairs and into the room he was sharing with Brendon. He changed into his pajamas, shoving his clothes into the corner with his bag. He dug his cell phone charger out of his bag and plugged it in, crawling into the bottom bunk. He set his phone by his head, checking his texts from Spencer. He smiled and replied quietly (this place sucks. miss you guys a lot.) and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders.
He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up in August.
+
Ryan's first week at the Urie household was possibly the most eventful week of his life. The second day, Brendon woke him up at six in the morning and dragged him out to the barn. He worked all day outside with Brendon, then he would come inside and help make dinner, then he would either pass out or text Spencer and then pass out. He couldn't remember a time when he had been so exhausted.
A month into his stay and he was waking up before Brendon, which he was glad for because it meant he could get dressed without Brendon staring at him. Brendon had continued to flirt with him on a daily basis and had even taken to casually groping him on a walk-by. The groping and flirting didn't bug Ryan as much as the fact that whenever Jon would come over, he and Brendon would disappear for hours at a time and, well. Ryan wasn't an idiot; he knew what they were doing.
+
"Hey, city boy! Help me move this hay," Brendon shouted.
Ryan looked up from his book, eying Brendon over the top of his sunglasses. "Excuse me?"
Brendon smiled and walked over to him, kicking at his feet. "Help me move this hay."
"Is there some reason why you can't move it yourself?" Ryan asked. "I'm in the middle of this really good book."
"You can read later. Help me move it or I'll drag you over there myself," Brendon said, turning away from him and walking back over towards the barn.
Ryan sighed and put his bookmark between the pages. He set his book on the steps leading up to the porch and stood up, brushing off his jeans. He walked over to where Brendon was standing and reached for a bale of hay, trying to pick it up and he couldn't. He watched Brendon, who effortlessly (or so it seemed) picked up a bale of hay and carried it into the barn, throwing it into one of the stalls with the horses.
Brendon walked back out and pointed towards the hay. "Get crackin."
Ryan looked down. "I can't lift it."
"What?"
"I can't lift it."
"I can't hear you, Ryan," Brendon said, rolling his eyes.
"I can't lift the damn hay," Ryan said louder, agitation clear in his voice.
Brendon smiled, using his sleeve to wipe the sweat off of his forehead. "You're serious, aren't you?"
Ryan didn't say anything.
"All right, all right," Brendon said, braking off a piece of hay and sticking it in his mouth. "I'll help you with it, city boy."
Ryan stared at him for a minute.
"What?"
"Are you seriously chewing on hay?" Ryan asked.
"Yes."
He shook his head. "That cannot be sanitary."
"It's a lot more sanitary than what you put in your mouth, city boy," Brendon said, smirking and picking up one side of the hay. "Are you gonna lift or what?"
Ryan stood there for a second with his mouth open. "What the fuck are you implying?"
Brendon smiled. "You know what I'm implying. Lift."
"Fuck you," Ryan muttered, grabbing the opposite side of the hay and lifting with Brendon. The two of them carried it into the barn and threw it over the stall. They finished moving the rest of the bales within fifteen minutes and when they were done, Ryan's shirt was soaked through with sweat. "I hate hay," he muttered. "I hate being sweaty."
"Just take your shirt off," Brendon said, removing his own and throwing it near the porch. "C'mon. We gotta go brush down the horses."
Ryan groaned. "Why do you keep saying 'we?' I have other things to do."
"Really?" he asked, sending him a look. "Because you're so, so busy out here? Out here in the middle of nowhere? So much to do? So many plans?"
Ryan rolled his eyes. "That book is really good, for your information. Though I doubt it matters to you since you probably can't read," he said, walking back towards the barn.
Brendon laughed, catching up with him. "You think I'm uneducated just because I'm not from the city like you are?" he asked, tossing him a brush for the horses.
"Interpret it however you want," Ryan told him, opening the stall and walking in. A couple of weeks before that, he would never have felt comfortable enough with the horses to just walk in, mainly out of fear of getting kicked. But he had been spending a lot of time near them recently so he felt a lot better. He smiled at Buttercup and pet her mane. "Hi there, pretty." He reached over towards the shelf and pulled off an apple, one of the few he set up there earlier, and let her eat it out of his hand.
"You seem more comfortable near the animals," Brendon said, leaning against the door of the stall.
"I am. Especially Buttercup. When I go back to Vegas, I'm taking her with me," Ryan said, smiling. "It'd be interesting to see her on a train."
"It'll be more interesting to see you convince Annie to let you take her with you," he said.
"Oh, she'd let me. Annie likes me because I'm nice." Ryan nodded.
Brendon bit back a laugh. "I bet you are."
"I am!" Ryan said.
"Okay, city boy," he said. "I believe you."
"Stop calling me city boy. It makes me miss Vegas," Ryan told him quietly.
Brendon watched him for a few minutes. "You really don't like it here, do you?"
He shrugged. "It could be worse. I've gotten used to it. I like the horses, the calves, and the lake. But I miss my home."
"You, uh. Like anything else?" Brendon asked, reaching out to grab Ryan's arm and tug him closer.
Ryan tried to jerk his arm free. "What are you doing?" he asked quietly.
Brendon slid his fingers up Ryan's bare arm and under the sleeve of his shirt. His eyes flickered up to Ryan's and he smiled. "What do you think I'm doing?"
"You're with Jon, I--"
"I'm not with Jon," Brendon said. "Never have been."
"But--" Ryan stuttered. "You two are always swimming...naked and, like. Disappearing for the longest times, and--"
"We're friends. We like to talk and I don't want my siblings to overhear it," Brendon told him, tugging Ryan forward until they were toe to toe.
Ryan looked down to avoid staring at Brendon's eyes. "I--I thought-- So, you. Why are you always flirting with me?"
Brendon smiled. "Because it's fun to see you sweat," he told him, fingers tightening their hold on Ryan's bicep and he leaned forward, biting at the curve of his jaw. "You can tell me to stop, you know."
"I know," Ryan whispered, involuntarily drifting a little bit closer.
Brendon seized the opportunity and captured Ryan's lips with his own. Ryan bit back a gasp and allowed Brendon to push him back against the stall, pinning him against the old, rotting wood. Brendon's hands fell to his waist, sliding up his shirt as he slid his tongue along Ryan's lower lip. Ryan felt himself leaning closer to Brendon, which is when Brendon pulled away.
"Wha--"
Brendon grabbed the hem of Ryan's shirt and pulled it up over his head, smiling as he did so. "It was in the way," he told him before connecting their lips again.
This time, Ryan couldn't bite back his gasp. He slid his arms around Brendon's waist, fingernails digging slightly into his tanned skin. Brendon almost instantly slid his tongue into Ryan's mouth, taking advantage of Ryan's brief shock. Ryan felt himself moan quietly and his eyes fluttered open, meeting with Buttercup's, and his lips stilled beneath Brendon's. He pulled back slowly.
"What's wrong?" Brendon asked.
"Buttercup is wa-watching us," Ryan whispered.
Brendon laughed. "Yeah. And?"
"She's watching us, Brendon," he said quietly. "Her--Her virgin eyes are bl-bleeding, man, her virgin eyes," he told him.
Brendon smiled and Ryan briefly thought that he had never looked more sexy than he did then. He shook his head and leaned in to kiss Ryan again.
Ryan promptly forgot all about Buttercup.
part two
Author: causticmayhemx
Pairing: Ryan Ross//Brendon Urie.
Rating: NC17.
Word Count: 11247.
Summary: Mrs. Ross, fed up with her son's destructive and illegal behavior, decides to send him to live with a friend of the family over the summer before his senior year. The worst part is, he's staying on a farm.
Disclaimer: 100% faux.
A/N: I don't know how I came up with this idea but Tari made me write it (seriously, she forced me). Major thanks to Aria who constantly looked over it and reassured me when I was worried.
Down on the Farm.
"Mom, I don't even know these people! I am not going to spend an entire summer with people I don't know all the way across the country!" Ryan yelled.
"Ryan, calm down," his mother said. "This will be a good experience for you. Besides, you need to get away from your...friends."
"My friends have nothing to do with this."
"They damn well do, and you know it," she said angrily. "You've been suspended three times this year and last night was the final straw."
Ryan rolled his eyes. "Here we go."
"Yes, here we go! I got a call from the police saying you had been arrested, Ryan," she yelled. "Because of your friends!"
"Don't involve them in this."
"So you did all of it on your own?"
Ryan sighed.
"You burned someone's house down, Ryan! Do you know who else burned houses down? Serial killers," she said, nodding. "Do you want to be a serial killer?"
He scoffed. "I'm not a killer, mom. Setting one fire doesn't equal killer."
His mother sighed. "I told the cops that I would take care of your punishment because you're underage. You're lucky they agreed. And this is what's going to happen. The Urie's were kind enough to agree to let you stay with them this summer. You're going and that is final."
Ryan shook his head, crossing his arms. "You can't make me do anything."
"Oh, but I can. Because I'll be damned if my son turns out to be another Ted Bundy."
"Stop talking like an idiot, mom. Do you know anything about the homicidal triad? Because, hey, Slash wets the bed and he's not a killer. No. He's in a band. That statement was completely asinine."
"Go to your room and pack. We're leaving in the morning at 8. Our train leaves at 9," she said, crossing her arms and walking away.
Ryan stood in the middle of the kitchen for a moment. There was so much he wanted to say to his mother, but he held his tongue. Leaving. In the morning. Within the next eight hours, he would be leaving. Gone. He would be leaving Vegas and going to Arkan-geor-ippi-ana or wherever. He would be spending the summer before his senior year with a family he didn't know (and therefore didn't like) all because of some stupid teenage fun.
"Well, fuck you, too," he muttered, walking down the hall to his room and slamming the door shut. His mother might've been forcing him to go, but he'd be damned if he'd go quietly or easily. She wasn't making it easy on him and he wouldn't make it easy on her.
+
"You're not twelve anymore, Ryan. Are you going to ignore me the entire train ride there?" his mother asked.
Ryan sighed. "I'm not ignoring you. I just think this whole situation sucks dick."
"Watch your language," she warned.
He rolled his eyes. "Why should you care? You won't have to deal with me all summer, so why don't you just suck up all of my negative energy now?" he smiled sweetly.
His mother rolled her eyes. "We'll be there in about an hour."
"Woohoo."
When the train finally rolled to a stop and Ryan and his mother got their bags and got off the train, his nose immediately wrinkled. He looked around. The train station was small. The buildings were smaller. He hoisted the strap of his backpack higher up on his shoulder. He kept quiet as his mother called for a cab. The ride to the house seemed to feel longer than the train ride to wherever he was.
At least an hour later, the car pulled to a stop and his mother asked the cab driver to wait for her before getting out of the car. Ryan followed slowly and felt so out of place. He was waiting for a tumbleweed to blow across the street; it didn't happen. The road was dirt and gravel and there was only one house within eyesight. Ryan felt his stomach drop. He couldn't believe he was going to spend an entire summer in the middle of nowhere.
"Where the hell am I?"
"Mississippi," his mother said. "Nice change of pace, isn't it?"
Ryan looked at his mother, a look of horror on his face. "No. Not a nice change of pace. A bad one. A very, very bad one. This place is evil."
"You've been here two minutes."
"Yeah, and I already know it's evil," Ryan said, squinting his eyes from the sun. It was unnaturally bright out for nearly four in the afternoon.
"Give it a chance. You're going to be stuck here so you might as well make the best of it," she said. "Now let's go. They're waiting."
"That's such a mom thing to say," he grumbled. "And of course they're waiting. That was probably the only car they've seen within four miles of here in ten years."
His mother rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a child, Ryan. You can handle one summer away from home."
"There are so many things wrong with this," he complained. "The summer before my senior year. I should be spending this with friends. Not on a fucking... Oh my God. Is this seriously a farm?"
"If you were spending it with friends, you would only end up in jail. It's this or the military, Ryan. Take your pick," she told him.
"Is this a farm?!" Ryan asked, eyes wide.
His mother didn't meet his eyes.
"Mom! This is a fucking farm! I did not pack for a farm! You didn't tell me this was a farm! I have no sunscreen! Fuck, this summer is going to suck!"
"Don't be so over dramatic," she said, walking up the steps to the front door. Before she could knock on the door, it swung open and a woman came out, screaming, hugging his mother.
Ryan's eyes were wide, frightened, and he took a step back.
"Clarice!"
"Linda!"
Ryan looked between them. He had never seen his mom so happy.
His mother pulled back and smiled. "It's so good to see you, Linda!"
"Oh, it's been far too long," she said. "You must be Ryan. My, you were just a little boy the last time I saw you. What were you, two?"
"I think he was three," Ryan's mother said.
"Yeah, people tend to grow over the years," Ryan said. "I was one of them. I'm crazy that way."
"Ryan," his mother warned. "Act like the gentlemen I taught you to be."
"Okay, give me some matches. I'll go burn down their barn," he said sarcastically, crossing his arms.
His mother frowned at him. "Don't let him near fire. It's what got him into this mess in the first place. It's like I told you on the phone, I just cannot control him," she said, attempting to be quiet but it didn't work. She hadn't even lowered her voice at all.
Ryan rolled his eyes. "Okay, mom, I learned my lesson. Take me back to Vegas, please. People actually live there."
"Ryan! Please act with a sense of decorum. I raised you better than this--"
If you raised me so well, I wouldn't have set fire to someone's house. Then we wouldn't be here. Now what? Ryan thought to himself, but he didn't articulate it.
"--You are their guest. You will be polite," she said.
Linda waved a hand. "I have two sons and two daughters. I know how teenagers act, Clarice, it's okay," she said. "You can act like yourself, Ryan. You will be here for a while. Come in, both of you. Make yourself comfortable."
"Oh, no, I couldn't," Ryan's mother said. "I really can't keep the driver waiting. I have to get back to the station."
Ryan's eyes widened. "Mother, you cannot go. You cannot leave me here. I don't fit in. Where can I wear my Dolce and Gabbana boots? Nowhere! Mother, you take me with you right now."
His mother laughed. "This is exactly why you're here, Ryan. You need to be around people who aren't like you. People who will make you want to become a better person."
Ryan frowned. "Mom, please don't leave me here."
"Enjoy your summer, Ryan. Call me a lot," she said, kissing his forehead. "Hey," she said, causing their eyes to meet. "You're going to be just fine. I'll see you in late August. I love you."
"Yeah, yeah, you, too," he muttered, sulking even further. He watched her walk away and, when the car was finally out of view, he turned to Linda. He looked her up and down, taking her her faded, flowered dress and white apron. "This is a scene out of a movie. Straight out of some horrible movie."
Linda laughed. "Come on inside, dear. I'll show you your room," she said, taking one of his bags.
Ryan sighed and followed Linda into the house. It was older, clearly rustic. The floors were hardwood, pictures littering the walls. There was a small television in the large family room, connected by a swinging door to the kitchen, which they walked through in order to get to the staircase near the back door. It was old and creaked with every step. The wallpaper on the wall was dirty and Ryan didn't even touch the handrail. Linda led him down the hallway and opened the last door on the left, smiling.
"You'll be sleeping in here with my oldest son. My other son is bunking with my older daughter. She's not happy about that," she said, smiling. "You can talk with him about which bunk you get. I think he's out back. You should go find him and introduce yourself."
Ryan looked at her as if she was crazy. "I can't get these shoes muddy. They're leather. They were very expensive."
She laughed. "You can borrow some boots if you would like."
"I think I'd rather go barefoot," he said, dropping his bags onto the floor.
"Suit yourself. Dinner will be in about an hour. It'd be nice if you could try to enjoy yourself."
"I will do that," he said sarcastically. "I think I'm just...gonna walk around," he said, kicking off his shoes and rolling up the bottom of his pants. He looked down. "Wow, I feel like an idiot."
Linda smiled and ruffled his hair. "You'll do just fine."
He followed her out of the room but went out the back door instead of walking towards the kitchen. He pulled his sunglasses over his eyes and stepped off the porch slowly and into the dust. He cringed. His feet were already dirty. He hated that feeling. He looked out across the land. He couldn't see anything at all.
"I'm in the middle of nowhere," he muttered. He looked past the barn and paused. Someone was walking his way. A rather attractive someone. He felt himself smile as the guy walked closer. Ryan began to walk a little bit closer to him, hoping to make the situation a little less awkward and, when he was within distance, stuck out his hand. "Hi. I'm Ryan."
"Brendon." He took Ryan's hand and smiled, his teeth white and brown eyes shining. "So you're the arsonist?"
Ryan felt himself smile. "God, what exactly did my mom tell yours? I don't even want to know."
"Just don't burn my house down and we'll get along just fine," he told him. "So you're from Vegas?"
"Yeah. And you...live on a farm," Ryan commented, trying to keep the disgust out of his voice.
Brendon laughed. "Yeah, that's me. Don't sound so displeased, Ryan. It'll be a fun summer," he said, smirking.
Ryan felt something in his stomach twist. Were they seriously flirting? A farmer? "Yeah, probably not. I doubt there's a mall anywhere near here. And what are the odds I get Internet access here?"
"We have WiFi," Brendon assured him, pulling his shirt over his head.
Ryan's eyes widened and trailed down his tan chest, over his abs and he forced his eyes up. "WiFi? Really?" he asked, clearing his throat.
"Yup," he said, using his shirt to wipe the sweat from the back of his neck and his chest. He caught Ryan's eyes and laughed. "What?"
"Nothing," he said, looking down at his feet, covered in dirt. "My feet are filthy."
"That's nothing. Wait until you feed the pigs with me," he smiled. "That's gonna be filthy."
Ryan gawked at him. "Are you seriously implying I have to do...farm work around here?"
Brendon laughed again. "Wow, you're seriously against this farm stuff, aren't you?"
"I'm against doing manual labor and getting filthy and not being able to wear my nice clothes," Ryan said.
"Nice clothes?"
"I like vests," Ryan said, shrugging.
"What do you even know about farming?" Brendon asked.
"Just what I've seen in Brokeback Mountain," Ryan answered honestly.
"That was not about farming. That was about anal sex."
Ryan felt his neck get hot. "Well, cowboys did farm work, right?"
Brendon's eyes widened. "This isn't Brokeback Mountain. Well, not the sheep herding part," he said.
Flirting? "I get that already. You're not wearing a cowboy hat," Ryan told him.
"Hats mess up my hair," Brendon replied, running a hand through his dark hair. "Well. I'm going to go shower. You should help my mom with dinner. I'm willing to bet you've never peeled a potato in your life."
"You would be right," Ryan said.
Brendon shook his head. "I'm trying to wrap my head around you, city boy, and it's not working. C'mon," he said, leading him inside. "Hey, ma! I'm gonna shower and then I'll help you with dinner!"
"Okay!"
Brendon looked at Ryan. "Well. It was nice to meet you, city boy. And I call top."
Ryan knew his heart shouldn't have been pounding against his chest at the subtle innuendo, but it was. "What?"
"Bunk. Top bunk. I like the danger," Brendon smiled. "See you soon."
Ryan watched him walk up the stairs. "Wow," he whispered to himself. Who knew that farmers would have such a hot ass?
+
Ryan awkwardly walked into the kitchen and he leaned against the wall by the refrigerator. "Um. Do you need any help with anything?" he asked quietly.
Linda turned around. "Actually, yes. Do you know how to churn butter?"
Ryan stilled, shaking his head.
She laughed. "That was a joke, Ryan. We're not that old-fashioned. Could you set the table for me? There will be seven of us. The plates are to your right."
"Okay," he said, opening a cupboard and grabbing seven dinner plates. "Will there be any soup or salad?" he asked.
"We have a salad every night," she told him.
"Salad bowls it is," he muttered, grabbing seven of the bowls. "Um. Where is the silverware?"
"Right by the dishwasher, honey."
"Okay." Ryan set up the plates and bowls on the table and went to grab the silverware, setting a knife, fork, and spoon by every single plate. When he was done, he leaned back and smiled at his handiwork.
"That is one gorgeous table."
Ryan turned around. "Thank you."
Brendon smiled. "You're welcome. I think it's the nicest table we've ever had."
"Are you mocking me?" Ryan asked, a hint of humor in his voice.
"A little bit," Brendon said, kissing his mom on the cheek. "Oh, man, cheesy fried potatoes?! You are the best!"
"Look in the oven," she told him.
He maneuvered around his mother and opened the oven. "Crescent rolls?! You spoil me."
She laughed. "Get those out of the oven for me and then get your siblings and your father."
"All right," he said.
"Ryan, honey, would you be a dear and set these dishes on the table for me? Be careful with the pork; it's hot," she said.
"Sure," Ryan nodded. He grabbed the dishes one by one and set them on the table.
Brendon handed Ryan a bowl filled with the crescent rolls and winked at him before walking out of the room.
Ryan set them in the middle of the table and opened the refrigerator. He grabbed a can of Coke before turning to Linda. "Is it okay if I drink this?"
Linda laughed, scooping the potatoes into a dish. "Of course, honey. You know, you're going to be staying here for a few months. You don't have to ask about every little thing," she told him.
"Right. Sorry," he said quietly, setting his drink on the table.
Linda set the dish down on the table. "It's okay."
Before Ryan could get a chance to respond, he heard what he thought was a stampede. He looked around and saw five people all enter the kitchen at the same time. They all looked exactly the same: tall, tan, dark hair and eyes. Mr. Urie was graying on the sides and Ryan wasn't surprised when he automatically sat at the head of the table. Brendon sat down next, across from where Ryan was planning on sitting.
All of them were talking loudly, just to be heard over one another. Ryan was so used to being in a house where it was just him and his mother--the volume of their voices was already giving him a migraine. Ryan took a seat and opened his can of Coke, taking a large drink.
Brendon sent him a curious look. "Hey! Quiet down, guys," he said.
His sister rolled her eyes. "We don't have to listen to you, Brendon," she said.
"You kind of do, Liz," he said. "Okay, introductions. This is Ryan, he's from the city. This is my sister Liz, she's fourteen," he said, pointing to the girl on his left. "Next to her is Joe, he's sixteen. Annie is the youngest, she's nine. I'm the oldest, I turned eighteen in April. And that. That is my dad, Ed, and you know my mom," he finished.
Ryan smiled politely. "Hello."
"Tell us something about yourself," Linda suggested.
"Yeah, where are you from?" Liz asked, piling food onto her place.
"Um, I"m from Vegas," he said, taking a helping of potatoes and green beans.
"Do you gamble?" Annie asked.
"Do you know any showgirls?" Joe asked, his eyes wide.
Ryan smiled. "Um, I'm only seventeen, so I don't gamble. And I'm not really into the whole showgirl scene."
"I bet you aren't," Brendon muttered.
"Would you like some pork, Ryan?" Ed offered, motioning towards the plate in the center of the table.
"Oh, no, thank you. I don't eat meat," Ryan said.
Liz and Joe dropped their forks, causing them to clatter against their plates. Ryan looked up and everyone was staring at him in shock. Except Brendon. No, Brendon was staring at Ryan with a look in his eye that Ryan couldn't place.
"That's a shame," Brendon told him.
Ryan looked down to his plate. He didn't contribute much to the conversation. He had no idea exactly what Brendon was doing. He almost felt a little awkward for wanting to flirt with him back--he did have to stay there for the whole summer.
"Jon's coming over after dinner," Brendon announced.
"Oh, that's good. He hasn't been around for a while," Linda noted.
Liz made a kissy face towards Brendon, which caused Ryan's eyes to widen.
"Stop it, Liz," Brendon joked, smiling. "Don't do that near Jon; he'll throw mud at you again."
Liz laughed. "Or maybe he'll push me in the lake again. That was fun."
"There's a lake here?" Ryan asked, head snapping up and voice hopeful. He was hoping there was one, it would make the days pass so much quicker.
"Yeah, it's back past the trees. Jon and I can take you back there if you want," Brendon offered.
Ryan smiled, reaching for a crescent roll. "I would like that. I never got to swim a lot in Vegas. And if I did, it was in a public pool, and I haven't been in one of those for years."
"We go swimming all of the time," Annie told him. "But I can't go unless Brendon or Joe go with me. And they never do."
"I'll go with you," Ryan said, smiling and hugging her shoulder; she smiled. Ryan already liked her.
"Good. Then you won't be bugging me all summer," Joe said.
Brendon reached behind Liz and hit his brother upside the head. "Be nice."
"Don't hit your brother," Ed warned.
"Sorry," Brendon muttered.
"What's for dessert?" Annie asked.
"I'm baking a cake after dinner," Linda said. "You feed the calves when you're done, okay?"
Annie nodded. "Okay. Ryan, do you want to help?"
"Um. What do I have to do?" he asked wearily.
"They're only nine weeks old so you just hold the bottle. It only takes a few minutes," Linda told him.
"Oh. Okay, I guess. Sure," he said, shrugging. "As long as they don't bite me."
Brendon laughed. "They won't bite you. But they might suck on your fingers."
Ryan paused. "Really?"
Brendon nodded.
"O...kay."
+
"That was surprisingly fun," Ryan said, sitting on the steps leading up to the back porch next to Annie.
Annie smiled. "I love our calves. They're so cute."
"I definitely have to wash my hands," Ryan muttered. "I have cow saliva all over me."
She laughed. "They like you."
"I like them, too."
"Will you feed them with me every day?"
"Sure," Ryan said, smiling. "You're so adorable; how can I say no?"
Annie smiled, hugging him. "You're the best. I like you more than my stupid brothers."
Ryan laughed. "Thanks, I think," he said, kicking off the boots he borrowed and brushing off his jeans.
"I'm gonna go help my mom with the cake. You can look around the barn if you want. Brendon and Jon should be around here somewhere," she told him. "Thank you again, Ryan."
He smiled, nodding, and stood up after he heard the door shut behind him. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. It was nearly eight and he only had two bars of service. He had no idea how he would survive if he couldn't text anyone all summer. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and walked on out to the first barn. The door was already open and he wrinkled his nose at the smell, but it wasn't too bad. He looked over the top of one stall and just saw hay and mud over the bottom. He moved to the second one and Brendon and some other boy sitting inside, talking.
"Oh, sorry to interrupt. I'll just go," Ryan said.
"No, no, join us," Brendon said, standing up and opening the door. "Seriously. We don't bite. We're just talking. This is the only place we get privacy."
"Okay." Ryan shoved his hands further into his pockets and sat down on a thicker part of the hay, hoping to be further away from the mud, and he rocked back and forth slightly.
"I'm Jon," the other boy said, stretching out a hand.
Ryan took it. "Ryan. How old are you?"
"Hmm? Oh, nineteen," Jon said. "Why?"
"You just...have a very full beard for a nineteen year old."
Jon laughed. "I get that a lot. It's my pride and joy," Jon said. "So you're staying with Brendon?"
"Yeah, for the whole summer, I guess," Ryan said.
Jon smiled. "Sounds like you two will have fun."
Brendon grinned. "Oh, yes. Yes, we will."
"So why exactly are you here? Are you really an arsonist?" Jon asked.
"No, I'm not. An arsonist wouldn't admit to doing it, they go on anonymous, or something. So I'm not technically an arsonist. And I don't even like burning things. My friends and I were bored and we hated the bitch who lived there," Ryan said.
"Why did you hate her?"
"She hated us?" Ryan shook his head. "She was your stereotypical old, religious lady. And that's cool and all, I'm all for religion and old ladies. But not the homophobic ones," he said, shrugging. "So, uh. Some friends and I were drinking a little bit and decided to burn her house down. If I was eighteen, I'd be in jail so. I'm glad I'm underage, for once. But I'm not glad that I was sent here."
Brendon nodded. "Thanks, man."
"Oh, shit, no. I didn't mean it like that," Ryan corrected himself. "I meant it, like. I miss my home. I miss my friends there. My ideal summer wasn't staying with a family I don't know on a farm." He paused. "That sounds just as bad. Sorry."
Brendon smiled. "I was just fucking with you, man. Anyone looking at you can tell that you don't want to be here. But at least you're trying to enjoy it. And I'm surprised you're being so nice to Annie."
"She's adorable," Ryan said. "I'm an only child so, I don't know. The thought of siblings really appeals to me."
"So where are you from, Ryan?" Jon asked, kicking off his flip flops and resting his chin on his palm.
"Vegas. I've lived in the city my whole life so, this. This is a change of pace," he said.
"Yeah, he's our little city boy," Brendon said, patting him on the knee.
Jon ran a hand over his hair. "Do you like it here so far?"
Ryan shrugged. "It could be worse. The time difference is fucking with me, though. And the fact that this is nothing like back home. I should try to make the best of it, I guess, so that's what I'm trying to do. I just...think half of my wardrobe is going to be obsolete."
"Borrow Brendon's pants. I mean, they might not fit right since his ass is huge but--"
"My ass is not huge!"
"It's huge," Jon said, nodding. "Anyway. You could probably borrow his pants."
Ryan bit his lip. "I don't think I've ever borrowed someone's clothes before."
Brendon's eyes were wide. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah. I just. I don't like the thought of wearing something that someone else has worn," he said, shuddering slightly.
"You're kind of prissy, aren't you?" Jon asked. "A bit of a queen?"
Ryan rolled his eyes. "Not really. It's just what I'm used to. I grew up differently than you guys--"
"Yeah, I never burned down someone's house," Jon said.
"Okay, I get it, I set a fire. Big fucking deal. Can you lay off of that?" Ryan asked. "That would be great. Thanks."
Jon smiled. "Okay. That's fair."
"Wanna see the lake?" Brendon asked.
Jon sent him a look.
"I was trying to change the subject. Let's go," he said, taking Jon's hand and standing up. "You coming?"
Ryan nodded. "Yeah," he said, waiting for Jon to slip his flip flops back on, before standing up and following them out of the barn. He paid close attention on the walk there. He intended to go to the lake as much as he could and he didn't think getting lost would be a good idea, especially out in the middle of nowhere. Jon and Brendon walked about five feet in front of him, talking and laughing, hands occasionally brushing and Ryan couldn't help but feel that he was invading on something. He also couldn't help but feel a little bit bitter. Why would Brendon hit on him if he was so clearly interested and involved with Jon?
"It's right past here," Brendon said, sending him a glance over his shoulder and pointing beyond the trees. "It's not too hard to find. A while ago, Joe and me, we marked all of the trees, but I don't think that you can tell anymore."
Ryan nodded. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and he wasn't surprised when he saw that he had no service.
"It's only half a mile away from the house, but we own all of the land for about a mile or two out, so. It's all private property," Brendon explained. "Sometimes over the summer, especially near graduation and the start of school, we get a lot of kids from school out here, thinking they're cool for trespassing on our land. We don't usually do anything about it, though, because it's just a waste, so," he shrugged.
"Okay," Ryan said.
"I doubt he's interested, Brendon. Why don't you just tell him how we usually go skinny dipping?" Jon suggested.
Brendon laughed. "Yeah, there's that, too. See, I work on the farm all day. And I mean, all day. So when I'm done, I usually just strip and get into the lake. Jon and I started this tradition a while ago, we just thought it would be more fun to swim naked. So we do. So if you ever go swimming with us, lose the clothes or don't bother coming out here," Brendon said.
"I'm not swimming naked," Ryan said.
"Your loss," Jon muttered. "Have fun sitting on the pier."
"Think I will," Ryan mumbled, feeling himself smile when he saw the lake come into view. "Oh, it's gorgeous."
Brendon nodded, peeling off his shirt and tossing it onto the pier. Jon's shirt was next.
"You're going swimming now? But the sun is going down-- Won't it be cold?" Ryan asked.
"That's the best time," Jon said, throwing his shirt off and kicking his flip flops aside and unbuckling his pants.
Brendon looked over at him, shoving his pants off his hips. "Why? You uncomfortable?"
Ryan rolled his eyes. "I'm from Vegas. No nudity makes me uncomfortable."
Jon laughed. "Nice."
Ryan didn't wait for anything else. "I'm just gonna go back. I'm tired. It was nice to meet you, Jon," he said, and he turned around and started walking back. Brendon yelled for him to stop and come back, but he didn't. He just wasn't in the mood for anything involving anyone. He walked quickly through the land and, when Brendon's house came into view, he breathed a sigh of relief. He made his way into the house and managed to avoid everyone else there; the house was oddly quiet anyway.
Ryan slipped up the stairs and into the room he was sharing with Brendon. He changed into his pajamas, shoving his clothes into the corner with his bag. He dug his cell phone charger out of his bag and plugged it in, crawling into the bottom bunk. He set his phone by his head, checking his texts from Spencer. He smiled and replied quietly (this place sucks. miss you guys a lot.) and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders.
He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up in August.
+
Ryan's first week at the Urie household was possibly the most eventful week of his life. The second day, Brendon woke him up at six in the morning and dragged him out to the barn. He worked all day outside with Brendon, then he would come inside and help make dinner, then he would either pass out or text Spencer and then pass out. He couldn't remember a time when he had been so exhausted.
A month into his stay and he was waking up before Brendon, which he was glad for because it meant he could get dressed without Brendon staring at him. Brendon had continued to flirt with him on a daily basis and had even taken to casually groping him on a walk-by. The groping and flirting didn't bug Ryan as much as the fact that whenever Jon would come over, he and Brendon would disappear for hours at a time and, well. Ryan wasn't an idiot; he knew what they were doing.
+
"Hey, city boy! Help me move this hay," Brendon shouted.
Ryan looked up from his book, eying Brendon over the top of his sunglasses. "Excuse me?"
Brendon smiled and walked over to him, kicking at his feet. "Help me move this hay."
"Is there some reason why you can't move it yourself?" Ryan asked. "I'm in the middle of this really good book."
"You can read later. Help me move it or I'll drag you over there myself," Brendon said, turning away from him and walking back over towards the barn.
Ryan sighed and put his bookmark between the pages. He set his book on the steps leading up to the porch and stood up, brushing off his jeans. He walked over to where Brendon was standing and reached for a bale of hay, trying to pick it up and he couldn't. He watched Brendon, who effortlessly (or so it seemed) picked up a bale of hay and carried it into the barn, throwing it into one of the stalls with the horses.
Brendon walked back out and pointed towards the hay. "Get crackin."
Ryan looked down. "I can't lift it."
"What?"
"I can't lift it."
"I can't hear you, Ryan," Brendon said, rolling his eyes.
"I can't lift the damn hay," Ryan said louder, agitation clear in his voice.
Brendon smiled, using his sleeve to wipe the sweat off of his forehead. "You're serious, aren't you?"
Ryan didn't say anything.
"All right, all right," Brendon said, braking off a piece of hay and sticking it in his mouth. "I'll help you with it, city boy."
Ryan stared at him for a minute.
"What?"
"Are you seriously chewing on hay?" Ryan asked.
"Yes."
He shook his head. "That cannot be sanitary."
"It's a lot more sanitary than what you put in your mouth, city boy," Brendon said, smirking and picking up one side of the hay. "Are you gonna lift or what?"
Ryan stood there for a second with his mouth open. "What the fuck are you implying?"
Brendon smiled. "You know what I'm implying. Lift."
"Fuck you," Ryan muttered, grabbing the opposite side of the hay and lifting with Brendon. The two of them carried it into the barn and threw it over the stall. They finished moving the rest of the bales within fifteen minutes and when they were done, Ryan's shirt was soaked through with sweat. "I hate hay," he muttered. "I hate being sweaty."
"Just take your shirt off," Brendon said, removing his own and throwing it near the porch. "C'mon. We gotta go brush down the horses."
Ryan groaned. "Why do you keep saying 'we?' I have other things to do."
"Really?" he asked, sending him a look. "Because you're so, so busy out here? Out here in the middle of nowhere? So much to do? So many plans?"
Ryan rolled his eyes. "That book is really good, for your information. Though I doubt it matters to you since you probably can't read," he said, walking back towards the barn.
Brendon laughed, catching up with him. "You think I'm uneducated just because I'm not from the city like you are?" he asked, tossing him a brush for the horses.
"Interpret it however you want," Ryan told him, opening the stall and walking in. A couple of weeks before that, he would never have felt comfortable enough with the horses to just walk in, mainly out of fear of getting kicked. But he had been spending a lot of time near them recently so he felt a lot better. He smiled at Buttercup and pet her mane. "Hi there, pretty." He reached over towards the shelf and pulled off an apple, one of the few he set up there earlier, and let her eat it out of his hand.
"You seem more comfortable near the animals," Brendon said, leaning against the door of the stall.
"I am. Especially Buttercup. When I go back to Vegas, I'm taking her with me," Ryan said, smiling. "It'd be interesting to see her on a train."
"It'll be more interesting to see you convince Annie to let you take her with you," he said.
"Oh, she'd let me. Annie likes me because I'm nice." Ryan nodded.
Brendon bit back a laugh. "I bet you are."
"I am!" Ryan said.
"Okay, city boy," he said. "I believe you."
"Stop calling me city boy. It makes me miss Vegas," Ryan told him quietly.
Brendon watched him for a few minutes. "You really don't like it here, do you?"
He shrugged. "It could be worse. I've gotten used to it. I like the horses, the calves, and the lake. But I miss my home."
"You, uh. Like anything else?" Brendon asked, reaching out to grab Ryan's arm and tug him closer.
Ryan tried to jerk his arm free. "What are you doing?" he asked quietly.
Brendon slid his fingers up Ryan's bare arm and under the sleeve of his shirt. His eyes flickered up to Ryan's and he smiled. "What do you think I'm doing?"
"You're with Jon, I--"
"I'm not with Jon," Brendon said. "Never have been."
"But--" Ryan stuttered. "You two are always swimming...naked and, like. Disappearing for the longest times, and--"
"We're friends. We like to talk and I don't want my siblings to overhear it," Brendon told him, tugging Ryan forward until they were toe to toe.
Ryan looked down to avoid staring at Brendon's eyes. "I--I thought-- So, you. Why are you always flirting with me?"
Brendon smiled. "Because it's fun to see you sweat," he told him, fingers tightening their hold on Ryan's bicep and he leaned forward, biting at the curve of his jaw. "You can tell me to stop, you know."
"I know," Ryan whispered, involuntarily drifting a little bit closer.
Brendon seized the opportunity and captured Ryan's lips with his own. Ryan bit back a gasp and allowed Brendon to push him back against the stall, pinning him against the old, rotting wood. Brendon's hands fell to his waist, sliding up his shirt as he slid his tongue along Ryan's lower lip. Ryan felt himself leaning closer to Brendon, which is when Brendon pulled away.
"Wha--"
Brendon grabbed the hem of Ryan's shirt and pulled it up over his head, smiling as he did so. "It was in the way," he told him before connecting their lips again.
This time, Ryan couldn't bite back his gasp. He slid his arms around Brendon's waist, fingernails digging slightly into his tanned skin. Brendon almost instantly slid his tongue into Ryan's mouth, taking advantage of Ryan's brief shock. Ryan felt himself moan quietly and his eyes fluttered open, meeting with Buttercup's, and his lips stilled beneath Brendon's. He pulled back slowly.
"What's wrong?" Brendon asked.
"Buttercup is wa-watching us," Ryan whispered.
Brendon laughed. "Yeah. And?"
"She's watching us, Brendon," he said quietly. "Her--Her virgin eyes are bl-bleeding, man, her virgin eyes," he told him.
Brendon smiled and Ryan briefly thought that he had never looked more sexy than he did then. He shook his head and leaned in to kiss Ryan again.
Ryan promptly forgot all about Buttercup.
part two