(no subject)

Oct 12, 2007 22:35

I may post this to some community or another...eventually. Maybe. Probably.

Title: Fun! Facts! With... Panic! at the Disco!
Author: DF
Fandom: Panic! at the Disco, some Fall Out Boy
Pairing: ...A lot. Includes Ryan/Brendon, Pete/Patrick, Ryan/Mother Nature, Jon/Spencer, Dentists/Spencer (one-sided), implied Spencer/Brendon, Brendon/Joe, coffeemaker/blowdryer, maybe Brendon/Elvis if you squint.
Summary: A bunch of completely unconnected drabbles based off various facts from the compiled list of Bandom Fun Facts. Goes from cracked-out to angst to crack again, so be careful of whiplash.
Notes: So, this is my first bandslash fic ever, unless you count the weird fic version of the I Write Sins Not Tragedies video. (I don't.) The Taming of the Shrew fic is coming... soon. I hope. For now, enjoy this. I will definitely may write more eventually, but for now it's 1:30 in the morning and I need to stop.



9 out of 10 Dentists come in their pants whenever Spencer Smith opens his mouth.

"You need to go to a dentist," Jon says firmly, looking at Spencer. Spencer currently has his hand clasped around his jaw, and is kind of grimacing in pain and really, Jon thinks he needs to get that toothache looked at. Spencer thinks that Jon worries too much.

"Not a chance," Spencer mutters, but he's clenching his teeth so it doesn't come out that clearly.

"Not a choice," Jon counters immediately. "You're going."

"I am not going to a dentist!" Spencer snaps, a little bit less muffled this time but still not as threatening as he'd like it to be.

Ryan wanders in at that point and says, "Oh, yeah, Spencer can't go to dentists."

"Why not?" Jon asks, feeling baffled and a little left out. "Do-"

Spencer glares at the floor. Ryan fidgets, but explains, "They usually end up sticking us with the dry cleaning bill."

Jon is still baffled. He's not bothering to hide it.

"Um." Ryan coughs. "After he opens his mouth, they..."

"Oh," Jon says, suddenly comprehending. "Ohhhh." He's silent for a minute, before suggesting, "Do you want us to stop by a drugstore and get you some painkillers?"

"Yes," Spencer says immediately, and Jon nods and drops the subject.

Spencer Smith killed the dinosaurs. The first time he smiled, it released such a high concentration of energy and light into the world that there was a rift in the time-space continuum and, 64 million years ago, all major life forms felt such a powerful surge of pure joy that they fell over dead.

At least they died happy.

Brendon likes hanging out in toy stores sometimes (because he has the mentality of their target customers, Spencer thinks sourly) and if Spencer drags him to the mall in the quest for the perfect shoe, or just 8 pairs of almost-perfect shoes, Brendon generally retaliates by insisting on at least half an hour in the toy store. It's not such a bad trade, really; no one is willing to shop with Spencer anymore, not unless they're feeling particularly masochistic. Spencer just refuses to admit that he occasionally enjoys hanging out with Brendon in Toys R Us.

The problem is, though, that toy stores usually have plastic dinosaurs. And sometimes, Brendon and Spencer will overhear a conversation like-

"If I were a dinosaur, I would totally be a T-Rex!" a little boy announces gleefully, clumsily moving around a plastic figurine.

"Their arms are too tiny," a slightly older girl-his sister, maybe-says sagely, making a triceratops gallop across the floor. "I would be a brontosaurus. Or a pterodactyl, they can fly."

"Yeah, but can they go like this?" The tyrannosaurus rex quickly jumps on top of the triceratops and starts mouthing at its plastic skin with unmoving teeth, the boy providing the appropriate chomping sound effects. Personally, Spencer thinks it looks like some weird kind of dinosaur porn, but he knows better than to tell Brendon that.

The boy eventually stops using the plastic toy to act out his violent tendencies and asks his maybe-sister, "Why did the dinosaurs die?"

Spencer winces, and Brendon shoots him a look, beginning to smile.

"Nobody knows," the girl tells the boy, trading her triceratops for a raptor. "They think it was an asteroid or something."

Brendon can't contain himself anymore, he just starts giggling. Spencer glares at him.

"Sorry, Spence," Brendon chokes out, "I just-it just-" He collapses into laughter, and if he falls on the floor Spencer is so not helping him back up again.

"Shut up!" he growls, kicking Brendon's shin. "It wasn't my fault!"

Brendon just laughs harder.

The rosevest was created when Ryan Ross seduced Mother Nature. (Afterwards, he called her "the ultimate MILF.")

It's not like they ever actually bought the rosevest. They just woke up one day, and it had suddenly come into existence. When they asked Ryan how it had gotten there, he just hummed contentedly. None of them commented on the fact that when he'd come in the night before, he'd been covered in dirt and grass stains.

After that, whenever Ryan walks through gardens, the flowers all turn their faces up to him like he's the sun.

There's only been one conversation Ryan Ross really wishes he could un-have, and it was the one with Brendon about whether or not Brendon could sue their boss.

"What are you talking about, I can't sue Pete?" Brendon demands, pacing furiously through the bus. "This is America, you can sue anyone!"

"Yeah, but-" Ryan tries to explain, but Brendon doesn't let him. Maybe Ryan doesn't try very hard.

"I don't care if it's his label, we can make it on our own if we need to, and he can't just-just do that!" Brendon is sputtering, incoherently angry. "There are laws against that sort of shit, and he can't-"

"Brendon!" Ryan shouts finally, which manages to interrupt the rant. The only problem is, now that Ryan has Brendon's dark-eyed, unwavering attention, he's not so sure he wants it anymore. But he can't just stop now, so... "Pete didn't force me to do anything."

There is utter silence on the bus for a moment. Brendon is paused mid-movement, feet poised to take his next step, and it would look ridiculous if Ryan couldn't see his face. (Ryan really, really wishes he couldn't see Brendon's face.)

"Oh," Brendon says at last. "Oh," he says, "well." That's all.

His feet move again, propelling him towards the door, away from Ryan. The door opens; when it closes again, Ryan and Brendon are on opposite sides of aluminum walls. Ryan breathes a little more deeply, sinks into the couch, and really, really wishes life had a rewind button.

Brendon Urie has an external hard drive full of homemade porn. All of it starring household appliances. His masterpiece is the toaster/blender lesbian porn.
***
Brendon tried to showcase his household appliance porn in the bus lounge, but Ryan told him to stop playing with stuff and to give him his fucking straightener back, and Spencer banned him from watching Ryan's French films. Zack gave him a look, and the next time, Zack filmed while Brendon narrated.

"Why," Ryan demanded as he stalked into the kitchen, "is there a stack of DVDs labeled 'Appliance Porn' in the lounge, when I specifically recall Spencer and I banning it?"

"You didn't actually ban it," Brendon announced helpfully. "You just told me to give you back your straightener. And Spencer said I can't watch your movies."

Zack just smiled innocently.

"Why are you helping?" Ryan demanded, rounding on him. "You're supposed to be keeping him under control, not helping him film the epic love story of the coffeemaker and the blowdryer!"

Zack and Brendon's eyes met, and they grinned simultaneously. "I'll get the camera," Zack said.

Ryan beat his head against the wall.

Brendon Urie has a tragic addiction to Pixie Stix. They have been confiscated from him at many points, but he always seems to get more.
***
Joe Trohman? Deals Pixie Stix. He is not actually smoking weed; if you look closely, you will note a powdery pink reside on his pipe. Sugar. It gives him away.

"Hey, so I'm going to go hang out on Fall Out Boy's bus for a little bit."

Jon looked up at Brendon. "Bren-" he began worriedly.

"It's okay, really," Brendon said reassuringly. "I still remember what you guys told me at the intervention. And you confiscated my stash anyway, so..."

"I don't think it's a good idea," Spencer said flatly. "Just because I like the guys doesn't mean I trust them."

Brendon rolled his eyes. "Yes, because I secretly sleep with Joe in exchange for sugar. Seriously, what's going to happen?"

Spencer grumbled, but finally consented. Brendon walked out the door contentedly.

Later

"How much do you want it?"

"I-oh, god! Yes, anything!"

"Good. Down on your knees."

Really, Brendon thought with a mouthful of Joe's dick, it wasn't as if he had lied or anything. It wasn't his fault that the truth was so hard to believe.

Brendon Urie can project gay porn into other peoples minds. This is why Pete Wentz loves hanging out with him.

Patrick looks up as the door to the bus slammed open, but when he realises it's just Brendon he looks back at the newspaper he was reading. Brendon comes over all the time; it's not anything new.

"Dude, you have to see what I can do!" Brendon shouts. Pete appears almost immediately.

"What?" he asks, grinning in anticipation. Brendon puts on his concentration face (usually only seen when he was fussing over a piece of music or learning new songs) and all of a sudden Pete gasped, looking even more flushed than usual. "Personalised?"

Brendon's grin is best described as "shit-eating". Patrick is momentarily terrified.

"But... how is that possible?" Pete continues, a note of awe in his voice. "I mean, you don't know from experience, do you?" He frowned, suddenly looking a lot more threatening. "Do you?"

"No," Brendon reassures him immediately. "It's just this thing." He coughs. "And Spencer and Jon might not let me back on the bus for a while."

Pete raises his eyebrows, looking intrigued.

"Well," Brendon continues, looking less uncomfortable and more amused, now, "if they're not still in the awkward tension stage of realising the fact that they want to bone each other, they're either really pissed off at me or... indisposed. I didn't stick around long enough to find out."

Patrick decides he really, really wants to stop listening, and luckily for him, Brendon and Pete go back to Pete's bunk. Well, maybe not luckily; Patrick is definitely, completely not jealous, but he doesn't like the idea of them doing... that. (He'd walked in on them once, exactly once, and it had been weird, to say the least. They hadn't been touching, or even looking at each other, but they'd both been masturbating with their eyes closed as if seeing something no one else could. Sometimes Patrick thinks about asking questions, but then he decides he'd be better off not knowing.)

They come out again a while later, looking flushed and very, very satisfied. "Do you think...?" Pete asks in a hushed whisper, shooting a glance at Patrick out of the corner of his eye.

Brendon just grins and turns to leave. Patrick can't help giving him a curious look, which was clearly a bad idea, because his head is suddenly filled by-

Oh, wow. Oh, wow, there is no way Pete is that flexible.

Brendon grins, watching Pete and Patrick stare at each other like besotted, horny puppies, and goes off to find Frank and Gerard.

-

Even after he and Patrick get together, though, Pete still calls Brendon over sometimes, because he's not going to let a talent like that go to waste.

Sometimes Patrick even joins them.

Every so often, Brendon Urie gets voicemails from Elvis Presley (from beyond the grave!) giving him advice. Previous voicemails have involved: joining panic! at the disco, turning left at the intersection of 4th and Gardenia, and telling Pete Wentz "thanks, but no thanks" on the blowjob issue.

When Ryan and Spencer asked Brendon to join Panic!, he chewed his lip and asked, "Can I think about it?"

Ryan didn't look happy, but Spencer told him to take his time, so when Brendon went home he tried to think seriously about his decision. It was hard, though; happy thoughts of "Oh my god, they want me to be in their band!" mixed with thoughts of, "Oh my god, my parents would kill me," which, y'know, weren't quite so happy. He didn't sleep for almost the entire night, trying to sort through what he wanted and was allowed to want and what he maybe could never have, and was pretty much paralysed with indecision until he decided to check his cell phone.

He had exactly one message.

The next day, he bounced up to Spencer and Ryan and told them yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

"What changed your mind?" Ryan asked, smiling a little.

"Elvis told me to," Brendon announced brightly. They gave him a weird look, but Brent pulled them aside to whisper that Brendon was always weird like this, so they shrugged it off.

For the time being, at least.

-

Pete will never, ever (unless plied by alcohol) tell anyone how, when he was about to go down on Brendon Urie, Brendon's cell phone rang.

Brendon took one look at the caller id and answered; apparently it had gone straight to voicemail because he punched in a passcode and started listening.

Pete waited, fidgeting.

Finally, Brendon hung up and looked at Pete. "Thanks, man, but no thanks," he said nicely. "I can't."

"I...yeah, okay," Pete said, staring a little. "Hey, who was that?"

Brendon just grinned and bounced off down the hallway.

-

"So."

"So."

Brendon and Ryan were sitting next to each other on the couch, knees and elbows touching awkwardly, not looking at each other at all (except maybe out of the corners of their eyes, when they thought they wouldn't be noticed.) Then, suddenly, Ryan's leg was vibrating; apparently he and Brendon had gotten close enough that the ringing cell phone in Brendon's pocket was sending shivers all up and down Ryan's thigh.

Brendon dug it out and held it up to his ear, listening to his voice mail. Ryan caught a couple words, "don't" and "once" and "food", but before he could ask who had called Brendon pressed 'repeat' and put it on speakerphone.

"Don't be an idiot," a throaty, familiar voice ordered. "Just kiss him already." There was a pause. "Oh, and don't order Chinese food, the restaurants about to be busted for violating about 10 health codes." A click; the person on the phone-Ryan refused to admit to himself who, precisely, it was-had apparently hung up.

"I was really more in the mood for pizza anyway," he said dryly, because it was all he could manage.

Brendon hummed in agreement.

"So that was..."

"Yup."

"And he..."

"Yup."

"So you weren't..."

"Nope." Brendon paused, chewed his lip, looked at Ryan. "You know, he's usually right about stuff. Just saying. I mean, he calls me when I'm driving sometimes, and I would've gotten completely lost otherwise, and-"

"Brendon?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah?" Brendon replied, throat suddenly going dry.

"You heard him. Don't be an idiot."

Brendon leaned over and kissed Ryan. From beyond the grave, Elvis smiled.

Zack has every Dr. Seuss book ever memorized. (...so he can recite them for Brendon when Brendon's had a bad day)(Kind of exactly that, yes. Brendon really likes There's A Woset in my Closet. He identifies with things that are in closets.)

Sometimes they have to find Zack, but usually he finds them; he seems to have some sort of psychic power that informs him whenever Brendon has had a really bad day and is hibernating in his bunk. Zack's just awesome like that.

"Brendon?" he calls quietly, quickly running through his mental library just to make sure he doesn't forget the words to Hop on Pop or something. "Can I come in?"

Brendon twitches open the curtains without the usual dramatic flourish, so the day must have been really bad. "Yeah," he says, eyes and nose red. His voice sounds cracked and stuffy, like his nose is runny, and he just looks so young that Zack just wants to give him a hug and a bowl of ice cream.

"There's a Woset in my Closet?" he asks instead.

"No," Brendon says immediately, and Zack knows immediately what made Brendon's day so bad.

"Ryan?" he asks sympathetically, and Brendon just sniffles and asks pathetically, "Green Eggs and Ham?" He doesn't talk about it; he never does, just buries his face in the pillow and tries to pretend that he isn't crying again.

"Green Eggs and Ham," Zack agrees, and begins. "I am Sam, I am Sam, Sam I am..."
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