Fic - We Faced the Future Holding Hands (Brendon/Jon)
We Faced the Future Holding Hands
Jon/Brendon - 1,900 words - PG
For playfullips on the occasion of her birth. I hope you had a great day, lady. I love you! .
The thing is, Jon likes Brendon. Brendon is cute as a button and funny and silly, and after growing up with hardcore alcoholics and scene kids for friends, Brendon is a refreshing change of pace.
So, yeah, Jon enjoys Brendon, and Brendon seems to enjoy Jon. In fact, that's sort of the whole problem, because while Jon's enjoyed plenty of people in his life -- some of them even of the male variety -- he's never felt quite like this about another guy before.
"I think I like Brendon," Jon says, and he can practically see Tom smiling on the other end of the line.
"Of course you do," Tom says, his voice laced with lazy bemusement. "He's fucking adorable."
Jon sighs and sits on the edge of his bunk. "I can't like Brendon. I wish you could see how this is a problem," Jon says, even though he knew before he even picked up the phone that Tom wasn't going to be any help at all.
Tom's notorious for fucking his friends, band mates, and any other combination there of. Jon assumed after the whole mess with William and Butcher that he would have learned his lesson, but if Tom's current situation with Sean is any indication, he definitely hasn't.
"Jon, it's not really that big a deal," Tom says. "You just have to figure out if a fuck is worth possibly screwing up the band, and you and I both know the answer to that, since you're the responsible one in this friendship."
Jon swallows hard and takes a deep breath, because if it was just that, it would be easy. If it was just sex, Jon wouldn't have any problem slamming on the breaks and tamping down on his feelings. "I... That's the thing. I kind of want to hold his hand and make grocery lists and fight with him over how much more awesome Dylan the cat is than Dylan the dog," Jon says quietly.
Jon can hear Tom flick his lighter, and his gut clenches hard with how much he misses him. He can almost smell the smoke from Tom's cigarette. "Wow. That's... Wow," Tom says.
"Yeah," Jon says. He can hear noise now in the background, and he figures Sean is probably home. It's not outside the realm of possibility that Tom has better things to do than sit on the phone and coddle Jon through some lame crisis. "Look, thanks for metaphorically holding my hand," Jon says, trying to make his voice sound somewhat less pathetic. "I'll figure it out."
Tom says, "I could come out for a few days this weekend."
Jon closes his eyes tight and tries to swallow around the tightening in his throat. "I miss you," Jon croaks and Tom laughs, amused and teasing.
"That's because I'm awesome, Jonny. I'm coming out, man. I'll see you in a few days," Tom says, and then he hangs up.
One of the problems with Jon crushing on someone is that he ends up thinking every thing they do is sickeningly adorable. It's ten times worse when the crush is on someone that actually is sickeningly adorable on a regular basis.
Brendon even chews cereal adorably. He has this little jaw pop and it clicks along with the crunch of his breakfast. He almost always wakes up with pillow creases on his face and his hair sticking up in all directions. This, combined with the fact that he usually can't be bothered to put his contacts on until after noon, and is thus sitting around all sleepy looking with his glasses perched on his nose, makes Jon sort of crazy. Half the time he doesn't know if he wants to pull Brendon on to the couch and snuggle him, or throw him on the floor and fuck him through it.
Jon's life is seriously hard.
Brendon says, "You're not eating?" and Jon jumps a little because he realizes he's been staring at Brendon's mouth pretty openly for at least a minute. His eyes snap up to Brendon's, but Brendon still looks only about half awake.
Jon shrugs, and Brendon pushes his box of Cocoa Puffs across the table. Jon prefers fruit flavored cereal, but Brendon's smiling at him. Jon really enjoys Brendon's smile, so he pours himself a bowl.
"Hey, these are pretty good," Jon says around a mouth full.
Brendon smiles around his spoon -- adorably.
Jon's life is really, really hard.
Jon's shocked when Tom actually shows up on Friday. "What are you doing here?" Jon asks, and Tom blinks at him like he's -- well -- kind of like he's Tom.
"I told you I was coming," Tom says.
Jon rolls his eyes, because, Tom. Half the time his words means absolutely nothing and they both know it.
Tom shrugs and smiles. "Figured out what you're going to do about Urie yet?" Tom asks.
Jon puts his hands on his face and shakes his head slowly back and forth. "No," Jon says.
"What time are the buses pulling out tonight?" Tom asks.
Jon shrugs his shoulders, but doesn't drop his hands. "It's a three hour drive to the next venue. We're not going until tomorrow." His voice gets muffled through his palms, but he's pretty sure Tom can understand him.
"Want to go get drunk?" Tom asks.
Jon drops his hands then, tilts his head a little, and says, "Sure. Why not."
In retrospect, getting stinking drunk probably wasn't the best idea Jon's ever had, but none of his ideas with Tom ever really are. Tom puts him in a taxi three hours later and wanders off with some brunette with legs up to her ears. Jon would like to hold a grudge, but they were really nice legs, so he shrugs his shoulders and tries to remember where the buses were parked tonight.
Jon is not stealthy. He trips on the last step and bangs hard into the door on his way in. Brendon's on the couch, half asleep, the TV casting a weird glow over his skin. "You okay?" Brendon whispers.
"Yeah," Jon says, and his voice sounds loud -- is loud -- if the way Brendon startles up off the couch is any indication. "Yeah," Jon tries again, softer this time as he makes his way toward the couch.
Jon sits down about the same time Brendon pushes up. "You need water," Brendon says.
Jon watches him walk toward the kitchenette. There are bottles of water in the small fridge. Brendon pulls one out and loosens the cap. "Did you eat anything?" he asks, turning to look at Jon from across the room.
"Water's good," Jon slurs. He leans his head back against the couch cushions and closes his eyes until he feels Brendon roll the cold bottle of water across his forehead. It feels good, and when Jon opens his eyes, Brendon is right there, eyes soft and amused. Jon takes the water and takes a few small sips. Brendon holds his hand out, and even though Jon knows he's offering to take the bottle, he slides his hand around Brendon's wrist instead. Every thing slows down for a few seconds, and Jon's breath gets caught in his chest, making everything feel tight and his head feel woozy. He figures it's now or never, and at least now he has the excuse of being fucked up if Brendon decides to deck him. He sucks in one unsteady breath, leans up, and tugs Brendon closer until their mouths are pressed together.
It's a tame kiss. Jon's too drunk to do much more than flick his tongue over Brendon's bottom lip. Brendon turns his head a little. It's not an invitation for Jon to take more, but he's not pulling away, either. Jon lets go of Brendon's wrist and wraps his hand around the back of Brendon's neck, and Brendon still doesn't pull back. He opens his mouth a little instead. Jon makes the kiss deeper, wetter, using his tongue to explore Brendon's mouth tentatively.
Brendon hums a happy little noise against Jon's lips, which is confusing, since he's suddenly also pushing Jon away. "Jon, hey," Brendon says softly.
Jon blinks his eyes open and Brendon is looking at him, brow wrinkled and lips shiny with spit. "Hey," Jon says back, his cheeks flushing with color now that he's finally thinking about what just happened.
"What was that for?" Brendon asks.
Jon licks along his bottom lip and shudders a little when he realizes he can still taste Brendon on on his tongue. His chest feels tight again and he's thinking he might actually hyperventilate, and possibly pass out. "I just want to hold your hand," Jon says stupidly.
Brendon's eyes widen, but he smiles, and it makes Jon's heart skip a little. Brendon runs his hand over Jon's head, mussing his short hair. "Sleep, Jon Walker," he says, pushing Jon to the side until he's stretched out on the couch. Brendon throws a blanket over him, tucking it under his chin. Jon thinks he feels the slight pressure of lips along his brow, but he slides into sleep before he can really process the feeling and grab onto it.
Jon wakes up with a headache. He also wakes up with a crystal clear memory of the previous night's events. He obviously should have had more to drink.
He rolls off the couch and makes his way to the small bathroom. He uses a wet wash cloth and lukewarm sink water to give himself a half-assed bath, then brushes his teeth.
Someone bangs on the door and Jon jumps and presses his hand into his temple. "We're going for breakfast!" Spencer says loudly through the door. "You coming?"
The idea of food makes Jon want to throw up, but coffee sounds both good and necessary right now. "Yeah, give me a second," he says.
He digs through Spencer's bag of bathroom shit and whimpers when he finds Spencer's Tylenol. He only takes a second to worry about future liver damage, and then figures it probably won't hurt him anymore than the excessive amounts of alcohol he consumes on a regular basis.
When he gets out of the bathroom, Brendon is waiting on the couch for him. Jon stops in the middle of the room and runs his hand over his mouth nervously.
Brendon smiles. "Ryan and Spencer went ahead," he says. He gets off the couch and takes a couple steps toward Jon.
"I'm sorry about last night," Jon says suddenly.
Brendon shakes his head, but he's still smiling. He comes closer and Jon sucks in a sharp breath when he he leans in and presses a soft kiss to Jon's lips.
Jon blinks. Brendon beams at him. "Tell you what," Brendon says. "I'll let you buy me pancakes."
Jon feels relief flooding through him. Brendon's there, and he doesn't seem mad. He actually seems perfectly normal, even with the random good-morning kiss. He's smiling and easy and so Brendon that Jon can't help smiling back, even if it is a little wobbly because of his hangover.
He nods, says, "Yeah. I can totally do that." They head toward the bus doors together and step out onto the street. The sun is bright, and Jon has no idea where his sunglasses are. He turns to Brendon, all set to bitch about it, when suddenly Brendon's hand is warm and heavy in his own.
Jon looks down, stunned and silent, and Brendon smiles at him again. He moves his hand a little, sliding their knuckles together, and says, "Breakfast! I need pancakes."
Jon squeezes their knuckles together a little too tightly, and they walk down the street together, hand in hand.
Jon/Brendon - 1,900 words - PG
For playfullips on the occasion of her birth. I hope you had a great day, lady. I love you! .
The thing is, Jon likes Brendon. Brendon is cute as a button and funny and silly, and after growing up with hardcore alcoholics and scene kids for friends, Brendon is a refreshing change of pace.
So, yeah, Jon enjoys Brendon, and Brendon seems to enjoy Jon. In fact, that's sort of the whole problem, because while Jon's enjoyed plenty of people in his life -- some of them even of the male variety -- he's never felt quite like this about another guy before.
"I think I like Brendon," Jon says, and he can practically see Tom smiling on the other end of the line.
"Of course you do," Tom says, his voice laced with lazy bemusement. "He's fucking adorable."
Jon sighs and sits on the edge of his bunk. "I can't like Brendon. I wish you could see how this is a problem," Jon says, even though he knew before he even picked up the phone that Tom wasn't going to be any help at all.
Tom's notorious for fucking his friends, band mates, and any other combination there of. Jon assumed after the whole mess with William and Butcher that he would have learned his lesson, but if Tom's current situation with Sean is any indication, he definitely hasn't.
"Jon, it's not really that big a deal," Tom says. "You just have to figure out if a fuck is worth possibly screwing up the band, and you and I both know the answer to that, since you're the responsible one in this friendship."
Jon swallows hard and takes a deep breath, because if it was just that, it would be easy. If it was just sex, Jon wouldn't have any problem slamming on the breaks and tamping down on his feelings. "I... That's the thing. I kind of want to hold his hand and make grocery lists and fight with him over how much more awesome Dylan the cat is than Dylan the dog," Jon says quietly.
Jon can hear Tom flick his lighter, and his gut clenches hard with how much he misses him. He can almost smell the smoke from Tom's cigarette. "Wow. That's... Wow," Tom says.
"Yeah," Jon says. He can hear noise now in the background, and he figures Sean is probably home. It's not outside the realm of possibility that Tom has better things to do than sit on the phone and coddle Jon through some lame crisis. "Look, thanks for metaphorically holding my hand," Jon says, trying to make his voice sound somewhat less pathetic. "I'll figure it out."
Tom says, "I could come out for a few days this weekend."
Jon closes his eyes tight and tries to swallow around the tightening in his throat. "I miss you," Jon croaks and Tom laughs, amused and teasing.
"That's because I'm awesome, Jonny. I'm coming out, man. I'll see you in a few days," Tom says, and then he hangs up.
One of the problems with Jon crushing on someone is that he ends up thinking every thing they do is sickeningly adorable. It's ten times worse when the crush is on someone that actually is sickeningly adorable on a regular basis.
Brendon even chews cereal adorably. He has this little jaw pop and it clicks along with the crunch of his breakfast. He almost always wakes up with pillow creases on his face and his hair sticking up in all directions. This, combined with the fact that he usually can't be bothered to put his contacts on until after noon, and is thus sitting around all sleepy looking with his glasses perched on his nose, makes Jon sort of crazy. Half the time he doesn't know if he wants to pull Brendon on to the couch and snuggle him, or throw him on the floor and fuck him through it.
Jon's life is seriously hard.
Brendon says, "You're not eating?" and Jon jumps a little because he realizes he's been staring at Brendon's mouth pretty openly for at least a minute. His eyes snap up to Brendon's, but Brendon still looks only about half awake.
Jon shrugs, and Brendon pushes his box of Cocoa Puffs across the table. Jon prefers fruit flavored cereal, but Brendon's smiling at him. Jon really enjoys Brendon's smile, so he pours himself a bowl.
"Hey, these are pretty good," Jon says around a mouth full.
Brendon smiles around his spoon -- adorably.
Jon's life is really, really hard.
Jon's shocked when Tom actually shows up on Friday. "What are you doing here?" Jon asks, and Tom blinks at him like he's -- well -- kind of like he's Tom.
"I told you I was coming," Tom says.
Jon rolls his eyes, because, Tom. Half the time his words means absolutely nothing and they both know it.
Tom shrugs and smiles. "Figured out what you're going to do about Urie yet?" Tom asks.
Jon puts his hands on his face and shakes his head slowly back and forth. "No," Jon says.
"What time are the buses pulling out tonight?" Tom asks.
Jon shrugs his shoulders, but doesn't drop his hands. "It's a three hour drive to the next venue. We're not going until tomorrow." His voice gets muffled through his palms, but he's pretty sure Tom can understand him.
"Want to go get drunk?" Tom asks.
Jon drops his hands then, tilts his head a little, and says, "Sure. Why not."
In retrospect, getting stinking drunk probably wasn't the best idea Jon's ever had, but none of his ideas with Tom ever really are. Tom puts him in a taxi three hours later and wanders off with some brunette with legs up to her ears. Jon would like to hold a grudge, but they were really nice legs, so he shrugs his shoulders and tries to remember where the buses were parked tonight.
Jon is not stealthy. He trips on the last step and bangs hard into the door on his way in. Brendon's on the couch, half asleep, the TV casting a weird glow over his skin. "You okay?" Brendon whispers.
"Yeah," Jon says, and his voice sounds loud -- is loud -- if the way Brendon startles up off the couch is any indication. "Yeah," Jon tries again, softer this time as he makes his way toward the couch.
Jon sits down about the same time Brendon pushes up. "You need water," Brendon says.
Jon watches him walk toward the kitchenette. There are bottles of water in the small fridge. Brendon pulls one out and loosens the cap. "Did you eat anything?" he asks, turning to look at Jon from across the room.
"Water's good," Jon slurs. He leans his head back against the couch cushions and closes his eyes until he feels Brendon roll the cold bottle of water across his forehead. It feels good, and when Jon opens his eyes, Brendon is right there, eyes soft and amused. Jon takes the water and takes a few small sips. Brendon holds his hand out, and even though Jon knows he's offering to take the bottle, he slides his hand around Brendon's wrist instead. Every thing slows down for a few seconds, and Jon's breath gets caught in his chest, making everything feel tight and his head feel woozy. He figures it's now or never, and at least now he has the excuse of being fucked up if Brendon decides to deck him. He sucks in one unsteady breath, leans up, and tugs Brendon closer until their mouths are pressed together.
It's a tame kiss. Jon's too drunk to do much more than flick his tongue over Brendon's bottom lip. Brendon turns his head a little. It's not an invitation for Jon to take more, but he's not pulling away, either. Jon lets go of Brendon's wrist and wraps his hand around the back of Brendon's neck, and Brendon still doesn't pull back. He opens his mouth a little instead. Jon makes the kiss deeper, wetter, using his tongue to explore Brendon's mouth tentatively.
Brendon hums a happy little noise against Jon's lips, which is confusing, since he's suddenly also pushing Jon away. "Jon, hey," Brendon says softly.
Jon blinks his eyes open and Brendon is looking at him, brow wrinkled and lips shiny with spit. "Hey," Jon says back, his cheeks flushing with color now that he's finally thinking about what just happened.
"What was that for?" Brendon asks.
Jon licks along his bottom lip and shudders a little when he realizes he can still taste Brendon on on his tongue. His chest feels tight again and he's thinking he might actually hyperventilate, and possibly pass out. "I just want to hold your hand," Jon says stupidly.
Brendon's eyes widen, but he smiles, and it makes Jon's heart skip a little. Brendon runs his hand over Jon's head, mussing his short hair. "Sleep, Jon Walker," he says, pushing Jon to the side until he's stretched out on the couch. Brendon throws a blanket over him, tucking it under his chin. Jon thinks he feels the slight pressure of lips along his brow, but he slides into sleep before he can really process the feeling and grab onto it.
Jon wakes up with a headache. He also wakes up with a crystal clear memory of the previous night's events. He obviously should have had more to drink.
He rolls off the couch and makes his way to the small bathroom. He uses a wet wash cloth and lukewarm sink water to give himself a half-assed bath, then brushes his teeth.
Someone bangs on the door and Jon jumps and presses his hand into his temple. "We're going for breakfast!" Spencer says loudly through the door. "You coming?"
The idea of food makes Jon want to throw up, but coffee sounds both good and necessary right now. "Yeah, give me a second," he says.
He digs through Spencer's bag of bathroom shit and whimpers when he finds Spencer's Tylenol. He only takes a second to worry about future liver damage, and then figures it probably won't hurt him anymore than the excessive amounts of alcohol he consumes on a regular basis.
When he gets out of the bathroom, Brendon is waiting on the couch for him. Jon stops in the middle of the room and runs his hand over his mouth nervously.
Brendon smiles. "Ryan and Spencer went ahead," he says. He gets off the couch and takes a couple steps toward Jon.
"I'm sorry about last night," Jon says suddenly.
Brendon shakes his head, but he's still smiling. He comes closer and Jon sucks in a sharp breath when he he leans in and presses a soft kiss to Jon's lips.
Jon blinks. Brendon beams at him. "Tell you what," Brendon says. "I'll let you buy me pancakes."
Jon feels relief flooding through him. Brendon's there, and he doesn't seem mad. He actually seems perfectly normal, even with the random good-morning kiss. He's smiling and easy and so Brendon that Jon can't help smiling back, even if it is a little wobbly because of his hangover.
He nods, says, "Yeah. I can totally do that." They head toward the bus doors together and step out onto the street. The sun is bright, and Jon has no idea where his sunglasses are. He turns to Brendon, all set to bitch about it, when suddenly Brendon's hand is warm and heavy in his own.
Jon looks down, stunned and silent, and Brendon smiles at him again. He moves his hand a little, sliding their knuckles together, and says, "Breakfast! I need pancakes."
Jon squeezes their knuckles together a little too tightly, and they walk down the street together, hand in hand.