Ending Eight
Patrick stood framed by the hall light, blinking in confusion.
“Bob?” He flipped the switch up and down a couple of times, and when the light didn’t come on, he let out an annoyed sigh. “The ones in the bathroom are out, too. Must be a fuse. What are you…” He stepped more fully into the room and trailed off when he got a good look at Brendon.
“Brendon? What the fuck are you doing in Bob’s bedroom?”
“Um.” William had told him to disavow all knowledge, like they were in some fucking spy film or something. It might have been funny when he said it, but now that he was facing Patrick’s wrath, he was all about blaming someone else.
“Wait.” Patrick made a face and canted his hips to one side. It reminded Brendon vaguely of Spencer. “Did William put you up to this?”
Then again, he remembered William and Adam talking about his punishment, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know just what the goat and the Crisco were for. He stood up straighter and flicked back the wig out of his face. “I didn’t know this wasn’t your bedroom,” Brendon said. He was shaking inside, but it came out okay.
“Okay. So what were you doing in what you thought was my bedroom, in drag?” Patrick’s lips got pursed when he was annoyed, which made them look fuller and more kissable. Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult. Pete was the sexy one, but Patrick had his moments.
“You can’t think of any reason why I might be in your bedroom in drag?” It wasn’t even difficult to blush, because this was Patrick. He had this glare that could make anyone blush about anything, whether or not it was even their fault.
Patrick gave him a blank stare. “I can; it involves William.”
Brendon made an annoyed sound and propelled himself across the room. He didn’t mean to crash into Patrick with so much force, but he stumbled a little on the heels on his shoes. Patrick didn’t look impressed. He opened his mouth, no doubt to say something cutting, but that played perfectly into Brendon’s plan. He pressed his mouth to Patrick’s in a wet, open kiss. And, okay, it was incredibly awkward and also, inexplicably hot.
Patrick didn’t stop him, which was probably the biggest surprise of the evening. Brendon figured he might be used to it because of Pete, maybe. But that didn’t explain why Patrick grabbed on hard to his arm and kissed him back.
“Um,” was all Brendon could think to say when they parted. It threatened to become his word of the evening.
“So,” Patrick said. “William put you up to it?”
“Oh my god, shut up,” Brendon snapped. He didn’t mean to say it. He knew he shouldn’t be, but he was still mostly in awe of all of Fall Out Boy, and to tell one of them to shut up felt sacrilegious. In apology, he followed it with another kiss.
Patrick’s hands came up to rest on Brendon’s hips and he swayed into him. It wasn’t at all how Brendon had planned for the evening to go, but he found he didn’t care. Patrick’s lips were totally living up to his expectations.
They shifted closer together and Patrick leaned back against the wall. It was easy to fit against him. Patrick was only a little shorter, just the right height for their legs to tangle together. Brendon wasn’t hard and neither was Patrick, but he didn’t think it was going to be long before they both were. Brendon rolled his hips and Patrick countered with a little wriggle of his own. Patrick’s fingers curled under the waistband into Brendon’s skin. Yeah, not going to be long at all.
Brendon got his fingers between them and undid Patrick’s belt, leaving it hanging open and starting on the button. “You really going to do this on a dare?” Patrick asked. His voice was soft and his lips wet and Brendon didn’t want to stop kissing him.
There was a moment of indecision. Because he’d been waiting so long, and it felt sort of anticlimactic to just do it because he was scared of William. Except Brendon wasn’t so much of a pussy that he’d have sex with someone just because William threatened him. Probably.
Maybe he had other people around who would help him get rid of his virginity, but Patrick was different. He wasn’t sleazy like most of the rest of the guys on the label. Patrick was cool. And a good kisser. And really funny in this sarcastic, self-deprecating way, and he liked the same sort of movies as Brendon, and the two of them could sit around and talk about music for hours, way after Ryan and Pete had rolled their eyes in frustration and left.
“Shut up,” he growled again, and kissed Patrick hard and fast. Before he could lose his nerve, he got his hand inside Patrick’s boxers and closed his hand around his dick. Patrick’s hips gave a little twitch forward and he made a soft sound against Brendon’s mouth. Brendon had always thought Patrick’s voice was sexy, especially when singing Pete’s lyrics. But it was infinitely sexier like this.
Brendon got on his knees, and he really didn’t know what he was doing, but when faced with Patrick’s dick, his options were limited and obvious. He got his mouth around Patrick before he was even fully hard, but it only took a few swipes of his tongue to get him there.
The lipstick Ryan had applied to Brendon’s mouth left glossy pink marks around Patrick’s dick. It was pretty obscene, in a hot way. Brendon wondered how he looked from above in his makeup and ridiculous outfit. He’d had never thought about cross-dressing as something he’d do to be sexy (as opposed to doing it on stage or as a dare because it was funny). But when he considered what Patrick was seeing, a shock of excitement shot through him.
Patrick sighed Brendon’s name, and there was something like regret in his voice. He knocked the wig from Brendon’s head and threaded his fingers in Brendon’s hair. It was a relief after having worn the wig for so long. Patrick’s fingers eased away the uncomfortably hot, itchy feeling. His touch was gentle and encouraging at once.
So, Brendon had seen plenty of porn and read lots of ‘how to’ guides for both gay and straight sex, and he’d been imagining his first blow job pretty much since he was, like, twelve. He had a fair idea of what to do, even if he’d never really thought about being on the giving end so much as the receiving.
Patrick wasn’t huge, but when Brendon tried to take him all the way in his mouth he felt his gag reflex kick in and quickly pulled back. He got his hand around what he couldn’t get in his mouth and started sucking in earnest.
He’d heard mixed things about what it tasted like, from being strong and repulsive to being something that some people really loved. Mostly it didn’t taste very much like anything. Patrick tasted and smelled clean, like he had no scent or flavour of his own. It was weird, but he thought he might be able to get used to it.
In fact, Brendon thought he might be able to do more than get used to it. Considering the crowd that he was, it was impossible not to consider gay, and he had. But until now he hadn’t come down decisively one way or another. But Patrick’s cock felt good in his mouth. He liked the way it was silky smooth and hard, and the texture of the veins against his tongue and the obscene sounds his mouth made, sucking and licking. He liked the obscene sounds Patrick made, better.
“Brendon.” Patrick’s hand twisted and tugged on his hair and Brendon pulled off with a popping sound that made him grin cheekily. He looked up at Patrick. “Jesus. You’re more unbelievable than Pete.” He said it in this affectionate yet bewildered tone of voice.
“Is…is that good?” Brendon had to clear his throat. It was already raw from testing himself, seeing how much of Patrick he could take.
Patrick made a strange choking sound and pulled on Brendon’s hair again, bending to meet him for a kiss. “Come on,” he hissed against Brendon’s mouth. “We’re not doing this in Bob’s room.”
Doing this. It was a simple enough statement, but it made the back of Brendon’s neck tingle in excitement and anticipation. Patrick led him back down the hall through the living room to the closet. Only it turned out not to be a closet so much as Patrick’s bedroom. There were clothes everywhere and more shoes than god, and certainly more than enough to make Spencer jealous. Sheets of music were littered over the bed and the nightstand. Patrick pushed them onto the floor before turning back to Brendon.
It was a moment of truth, but Brendon had already been there, done that. He proved the point by kicking off his heels and shimmying out of his skirt. He tossed it and his shirt on the already huge pile in the corner and tried not to look too awkward or shy. It helped when Patrick put his hand on Brendon’s neck and pulled him down into another kiss.
They got Patrick’s clothes off together and Patrick led them to the bed, sitting down on the edge and tugging Brendon over him. Brendon got his knees on either side of Patrick’s hips and it was more physical contact than he’d ever had before, nude. It probably shouldn’t have felt so good just having another cock pressed against his, but he was a virgin, so he figured he could claim special circumstances.
“You want to fuck me?” Patrick mumbled between kisses. There was something about the way he said it that just made everything feel right. Like, he wanted to be fucked and he wanted Brendon to be the one to do it and they weren’t just accidentally falling into bed together.
“Yeah,” Brendon whispered back, and looked him in the eye. Patrick nodded and slipped out from under Brendon, pushing himself up to the head of the bed. Usually Brendon didn’t think of Patrick as a sexual creature-at least not in the way that people like Pete and William obviously were. It was almost weird to see that he had lube and condoms in his bedside drawer.
He got over the weirdness when the condom was on him and the lube was coating his fingers and Patrick was squirming from his attention, telling him, “It’s good. Do it.”
He wanted to be slow about it. It was his first time, which was special, and he didn’t want to hurt Patrick. But any attempt at caution was gone when he got his dick lined up and pushed past the initial resistance from Patrick.
Patrick made a strange sound, breathing hard through his nose, but he said again, “It’s good.” Brendon kissed him and started to move.
Brendon knew he couldn’t be good at it. He had no illusions that he’d somehow be a sex god on his first time. He was actually amazed that someone as practical as Patrick would be willing to be Brendon’s first time. His movements were jerky and he was too busy chasing his own pleasure to really consider Patrick’s.
But Patrick hooked his legs around Brendon’s hips and tried to move with him. They kept kissing through it all-long, hard kisses on the mouth, Patrick’s stinging bites along Brendon’s throat. Brendon knew he was going to come first and somewhere, in the very back of his head where he wasn’t fucking blissed out, he felt bad about it. It didn’t stop it from happening.
His hips went still and he bit down hard on Patrick’s bottom lip and groaned out the shape of Patrick’s name. He fell against Patrick, sweaty and useless and felt Patrick still hard against his stomach.
With massive effort Brendon managed to roll onto his side beside him. Patrick helped him get rid of the condom, mostly because Brendon had forgotten how to use his hands. Then, as if oblivious to his own state, Patrick kissed him, sweet and lingering, and rolled Brendon onto his back. He moved his hips against Brendon’s thigh and Brendon felt his muscles slowly waking up and responding. He got his arms to cooperate, one winding around Patrick’s back, the other getting between them.
It only took a few strokes before Patrick tossed back his head and the sound he made. Seriously, there was no way Pete knew about it, because if he did, he would have found a way to produce and market it. And it made Brendon feel a little special to be hearing it himself.
“I did have a bet going with William,” Brendon admitted. It felt like centuries had passed in silence. But the comfortable, contemplative sort of silence, with Patrick curled up to his side. He was drawing patterns on Patrick’s arm, liking the way Patrick fit under his arm, the way his whole body moved when he breathed.
“Yeah,” Patrick agreed, like there’d never been a doubt in his mind.
“That isn’t why I did this, though,” Brendon said, softer.
Patrick lifted his head enough that their eyes could meet. “Yeah?” he asked, and this time he didn’t sound sure at all. Brendon could understand that. With the way everyone in the crowd kept trying to one-up each other with how far they were willing to go, he wasn’t surprised.
“No. I wouldn’t do that.” He needed Patrick to understand that. Patrick nodded and his eyes slipped shut as he leaned in for a kiss.
They talked about anything and everything for hours-about guitars and high school and their families. It was all random, free association until Patrick got back to the subject of William’s dare and told Brendon a hilarious story of a seventh grade slumber party gone horribly awry, complete with porn and neighbours with guns and police. It had Brendon laughing so hard his sides hurt, until the pauses between words grew long and finally Patrick’s mumbling was unintelligible and he trailed off altogether.
Patrick’s arm was warm around Brendon’s middle. Brendon squirmed closer and Patrick mumbled something in his sleep, voice muffled by Brendon’s hair. Brendon wanted to remember all the details. He stayed awake until just couldn’t any longer, and when it slept, it was heavier than ever before.
“Patrick,” a loud, querulous voice woke Brendon, coming from the living room. Patrick blinked his eyes open blearily and gave Brendon a slow, sleepy smile. “Is there a good reason why there’s Vaseline on the toilet seat, clothing all over my room and a wig on my floor?”
The door swung open and Bob Bryar stared at them. “Um,” Brendon said sheepishly. “That’s my fault.”
“Oh,” Bob said, after a pause.
“Bob,” Patrick said, with an inexplicably smug smirk. “I don’t think you’ve met Brendon.”
“I’ll totally clean it all up,” Brendon said, voice rushed. He started to scramble out of bed before he realised that Bob Bryar probably did not want to see his junk. He subsided back next to Patrick. “Maybe I’ll get dressed, first.”
Bob eyed him like he was some strange, freakish alien. “Maybe,” he agreed warily.
Patrick laughed. “Brendon’s from Panic,” he said.
“Ooooh,” Bob said, eyes lighting up, like that explained everything. “Does this have something to do with that William guy you told me about?” He and Patrick shared a look. Then Bob smiled at Brendon. “Nice to meet you Brendon. Please clean my shit up.”
“Right,” Brendon agreed. He bobbed his head in fervent agreement. Bob left, closing the door behind him and Brendon buried his face in the pillow, groaning in embarrassment. Patrick patted his shoulder sympathetically.
“I’m such a spaz,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Patrick agreed. He pressed a kiss to the nape of Brendon’s neck. “But a cute one.” Brendon grumbled wordlessly into the pillow. “I’m taking a shower. You’d better take care of Bob’s shit.”
“Um. I wouldn’t take a shower just yet,” Brendon said quickly.
Patrick was quiet for a long time, and Brendon finally lifted his head to eye him quizzically. “It’s okay,” Patrick said reasonably. “I’m just trying to decide whether to kill you first, or Bill.”
End story eight.
Go back to the last choice.
Go back to the beginning.
“Bob?” He flipped the switch up and down a couple of times, and when the light didn’t come on, he let out an annoyed sigh. “The ones in the bathroom are out, too. Must be a fuse. What are you…” He stepped more fully into the room and trailed off when he got a good look at Brendon.
“Brendon? What the fuck are you doing in Bob’s bedroom?”
“Um.” William had told him to disavow all knowledge, like they were in some fucking spy film or something. It might have been funny when he said it, but now that he was facing Patrick’s wrath, he was all about blaming someone else.
“Wait.” Patrick made a face and canted his hips to one side. It reminded Brendon vaguely of Spencer. “Did William put you up to this?”
Then again, he remembered William and Adam talking about his punishment, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know just what the goat and the Crisco were for. He stood up straighter and flicked back the wig out of his face. “I didn’t know this wasn’t your bedroom,” Brendon said. He was shaking inside, but it came out okay.
“Okay. So what were you doing in what you thought was my bedroom, in drag?” Patrick’s lips got pursed when he was annoyed, which made them look fuller and more kissable. Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult. Pete was the sexy one, but Patrick had his moments.
“You can’t think of any reason why I might be in your bedroom in drag?” It wasn’t even difficult to blush, because this was Patrick. He had this glare that could make anyone blush about anything, whether or not it was even their fault.
Patrick gave him a blank stare. “I can; it involves William.”
Brendon made an annoyed sound and propelled himself across the room. He didn’t mean to crash into Patrick with so much force, but he stumbled a little on the heels on his shoes. Patrick didn’t look impressed. He opened his mouth, no doubt to say something cutting, but that played perfectly into Brendon’s plan. He pressed his mouth to Patrick’s in a wet, open kiss. And, okay, it was incredibly awkward and also, inexplicably hot.
Patrick didn’t stop him, which was probably the biggest surprise of the evening. Brendon figured he might be used to it because of Pete, maybe. But that didn’t explain why Patrick grabbed on hard to his arm and kissed him back.
“Um,” was all Brendon could think to say when they parted. It threatened to become his word of the evening.
“So,” Patrick said. “William put you up to it?”
“Oh my god, shut up,” Brendon snapped. He didn’t mean to say it. He knew he shouldn’t be, but he was still mostly in awe of all of Fall Out Boy, and to tell one of them to shut up felt sacrilegious. In apology, he followed it with another kiss.
Patrick’s hands came up to rest on Brendon’s hips and he swayed into him. It wasn’t at all how Brendon had planned for the evening to go, but he found he didn’t care. Patrick’s lips were totally living up to his expectations.
They shifted closer together and Patrick leaned back against the wall. It was easy to fit against him. Patrick was only a little shorter, just the right height for their legs to tangle together. Brendon wasn’t hard and neither was Patrick, but he didn’t think it was going to be long before they both were. Brendon rolled his hips and Patrick countered with a little wriggle of his own. Patrick’s fingers curled under the waistband into Brendon’s skin. Yeah, not going to be long at all.
Brendon got his fingers between them and undid Patrick’s belt, leaving it hanging open and starting on the button. “You really going to do this on a dare?” Patrick asked. His voice was soft and his lips wet and Brendon didn’t want to stop kissing him.
There was a moment of indecision. Because he’d been waiting so long, and it felt sort of anticlimactic to just do it because he was scared of William. Except Brendon wasn’t so much of a pussy that he’d have sex with someone just because William threatened him. Probably.
Maybe he had other people around who would help him get rid of his virginity, but Patrick was different. He wasn’t sleazy like most of the rest of the guys on the label. Patrick was cool. And a good kisser. And really funny in this sarcastic, self-deprecating way, and he liked the same sort of movies as Brendon, and the two of them could sit around and talk about music for hours, way after Ryan and Pete had rolled their eyes in frustration and left.
“Shut up,” he growled again, and kissed Patrick hard and fast. Before he could lose his nerve, he got his hand inside Patrick’s boxers and closed his hand around his dick. Patrick’s hips gave a little twitch forward and he made a soft sound against Brendon’s mouth. Brendon had always thought Patrick’s voice was sexy, especially when singing Pete’s lyrics. But it was infinitely sexier like this.
Brendon got on his knees, and he really didn’t know what he was doing, but when faced with Patrick’s dick, his options were limited and obvious. He got his mouth around Patrick before he was even fully hard, but it only took a few swipes of his tongue to get him there.
The lipstick Ryan had applied to Brendon’s mouth left glossy pink marks around Patrick’s dick. It was pretty obscene, in a hot way. Brendon wondered how he looked from above in his makeup and ridiculous outfit. He’d had never thought about cross-dressing as something he’d do to be sexy (as opposed to doing it on stage or as a dare because it was funny). But when he considered what Patrick was seeing, a shock of excitement shot through him.
Patrick sighed Brendon’s name, and there was something like regret in his voice. He knocked the wig from Brendon’s head and threaded his fingers in Brendon’s hair. It was a relief after having worn the wig for so long. Patrick’s fingers eased away the uncomfortably hot, itchy feeling. His touch was gentle and encouraging at once.
So, Brendon had seen plenty of porn and read lots of ‘how to’ guides for both gay and straight sex, and he’d been imagining his first blow job pretty much since he was, like, twelve. He had a fair idea of what to do, even if he’d never really thought about being on the giving end so much as the receiving.
Patrick wasn’t huge, but when Brendon tried to take him all the way in his mouth he felt his gag reflex kick in and quickly pulled back. He got his hand around what he couldn’t get in his mouth and started sucking in earnest.
He’d heard mixed things about what it tasted like, from being strong and repulsive to being something that some people really loved. Mostly it didn’t taste very much like anything. Patrick tasted and smelled clean, like he had no scent or flavour of his own. It was weird, but he thought he might be able to get used to it.
In fact, Brendon thought he might be able to do more than get used to it. Considering the crowd that he was, it was impossible not to consider gay, and he had. But until now he hadn’t come down decisively one way or another. But Patrick’s cock felt good in his mouth. He liked the way it was silky smooth and hard, and the texture of the veins against his tongue and the obscene sounds his mouth made, sucking and licking. He liked the obscene sounds Patrick made, better.
“Brendon.” Patrick’s hand twisted and tugged on his hair and Brendon pulled off with a popping sound that made him grin cheekily. He looked up at Patrick. “Jesus. You’re more unbelievable than Pete.” He said it in this affectionate yet bewildered tone of voice.
“Is…is that good?” Brendon had to clear his throat. It was already raw from testing himself, seeing how much of Patrick he could take.
Patrick made a strange choking sound and pulled on Brendon’s hair again, bending to meet him for a kiss. “Come on,” he hissed against Brendon’s mouth. “We’re not doing this in Bob’s room.”
Doing this. It was a simple enough statement, but it made the back of Brendon’s neck tingle in excitement and anticipation. Patrick led him back down the hall through the living room to the closet. Only it turned out not to be a closet so much as Patrick’s bedroom. There were clothes everywhere and more shoes than god, and certainly more than enough to make Spencer jealous. Sheets of music were littered over the bed and the nightstand. Patrick pushed them onto the floor before turning back to Brendon.
It was a moment of truth, but Brendon had already been there, done that. He proved the point by kicking off his heels and shimmying out of his skirt. He tossed it and his shirt on the already huge pile in the corner and tried not to look too awkward or shy. It helped when Patrick put his hand on Brendon’s neck and pulled him down into another kiss.
They got Patrick’s clothes off together and Patrick led them to the bed, sitting down on the edge and tugging Brendon over him. Brendon got his knees on either side of Patrick’s hips and it was more physical contact than he’d ever had before, nude. It probably shouldn’t have felt so good just having another cock pressed against his, but he was a virgin, so he figured he could claim special circumstances.
“You want to fuck me?” Patrick mumbled between kisses. There was something about the way he said it that just made everything feel right. Like, he wanted to be fucked and he wanted Brendon to be the one to do it and they weren’t just accidentally falling into bed together.
“Yeah,” Brendon whispered back, and looked him in the eye. Patrick nodded and slipped out from under Brendon, pushing himself up to the head of the bed. Usually Brendon didn’t think of Patrick as a sexual creature-at least not in the way that people like Pete and William obviously were. It was almost weird to see that he had lube and condoms in his bedside drawer.
He got over the weirdness when the condom was on him and the lube was coating his fingers and Patrick was squirming from his attention, telling him, “It’s good. Do it.”
He wanted to be slow about it. It was his first time, which was special, and he didn’t want to hurt Patrick. But any attempt at caution was gone when he got his dick lined up and pushed past the initial resistance from Patrick.
Patrick made a strange sound, breathing hard through his nose, but he said again, “It’s good.” Brendon kissed him and started to move.
Brendon knew he couldn’t be good at it. He had no illusions that he’d somehow be a sex god on his first time. He was actually amazed that someone as practical as Patrick would be willing to be Brendon’s first time. His movements were jerky and he was too busy chasing his own pleasure to really consider Patrick’s.
But Patrick hooked his legs around Brendon’s hips and tried to move with him. They kept kissing through it all-long, hard kisses on the mouth, Patrick’s stinging bites along Brendon’s throat. Brendon knew he was going to come first and somewhere, in the very back of his head where he wasn’t fucking blissed out, he felt bad about it. It didn’t stop it from happening.
His hips went still and he bit down hard on Patrick’s bottom lip and groaned out the shape of Patrick’s name. He fell against Patrick, sweaty and useless and felt Patrick still hard against his stomach.
With massive effort Brendon managed to roll onto his side beside him. Patrick helped him get rid of the condom, mostly because Brendon had forgotten how to use his hands. Then, as if oblivious to his own state, Patrick kissed him, sweet and lingering, and rolled Brendon onto his back. He moved his hips against Brendon’s thigh and Brendon felt his muscles slowly waking up and responding. He got his arms to cooperate, one winding around Patrick’s back, the other getting between them.
It only took a few strokes before Patrick tossed back his head and the sound he made. Seriously, there was no way Pete knew about it, because if he did, he would have found a way to produce and market it. And it made Brendon feel a little special to be hearing it himself.
“I did have a bet going with William,” Brendon admitted. It felt like centuries had passed in silence. But the comfortable, contemplative sort of silence, with Patrick curled up to his side. He was drawing patterns on Patrick’s arm, liking the way Patrick fit under his arm, the way his whole body moved when he breathed.
“Yeah,” Patrick agreed, like there’d never been a doubt in his mind.
“That isn’t why I did this, though,” Brendon said, softer.
Patrick lifted his head enough that their eyes could meet. “Yeah?” he asked, and this time he didn’t sound sure at all. Brendon could understand that. With the way everyone in the crowd kept trying to one-up each other with how far they were willing to go, he wasn’t surprised.
“No. I wouldn’t do that.” He needed Patrick to understand that. Patrick nodded and his eyes slipped shut as he leaned in for a kiss.
They talked about anything and everything for hours-about guitars and high school and their families. It was all random, free association until Patrick got back to the subject of William’s dare and told Brendon a hilarious story of a seventh grade slumber party gone horribly awry, complete with porn and neighbours with guns and police. It had Brendon laughing so hard his sides hurt, until the pauses between words grew long and finally Patrick’s mumbling was unintelligible and he trailed off altogether.
Patrick’s arm was warm around Brendon’s middle. Brendon squirmed closer and Patrick mumbled something in his sleep, voice muffled by Brendon’s hair. Brendon wanted to remember all the details. He stayed awake until just couldn’t any longer, and when it slept, it was heavier than ever before.
“Patrick,” a loud, querulous voice woke Brendon, coming from the living room. Patrick blinked his eyes open blearily and gave Brendon a slow, sleepy smile. “Is there a good reason why there’s Vaseline on the toilet seat, clothing all over my room and a wig on my floor?”
The door swung open and Bob Bryar stared at them. “Um,” Brendon said sheepishly. “That’s my fault.”
“Oh,” Bob said, after a pause.
“Bob,” Patrick said, with an inexplicably smug smirk. “I don’t think you’ve met Brendon.”
“I’ll totally clean it all up,” Brendon said, voice rushed. He started to scramble out of bed before he realised that Bob Bryar probably did not want to see his junk. He subsided back next to Patrick. “Maybe I’ll get dressed, first.”
Bob eyed him like he was some strange, freakish alien. “Maybe,” he agreed warily.
Patrick laughed. “Brendon’s from Panic,” he said.
“Ooooh,” Bob said, eyes lighting up, like that explained everything. “Does this have something to do with that William guy you told me about?” He and Patrick shared a look. Then Bob smiled at Brendon. “Nice to meet you Brendon. Please clean my shit up.”
“Right,” Brendon agreed. He bobbed his head in fervent agreement. Bob left, closing the door behind him and Brendon buried his face in the pillow, groaning in embarrassment. Patrick patted his shoulder sympathetically.
“I’m such a spaz,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Patrick agreed. He pressed a kiss to the nape of Brendon’s neck. “But a cute one.” Brendon grumbled wordlessly into the pillow. “I’m taking a shower. You’d better take care of Bob’s shit.”
“Um. I wouldn’t take a shower just yet,” Brendon said quickly.
Patrick was quiet for a long time, and Brendon finally lifted his head to eye him quizzically. “It’s okay,” Patrick said reasonably. “I’m just trying to decide whether to kill you first, or Bill.”
End story eight.
Go back to the last choice.
Go back to the beginning.