I Wish That I Could Chill with You Tonight
OH GEEZ BUT IT'S ALMOST TIME TO READ BIG BANG STORIES.
Title: I Wish That I Could Chill with You Tonight
Pairing: Joe Trohman/Brendon Urie
Summary: An interlude in a world where Joe and Brendon are gay boyfriends. Brendon has a fear.
Notes: I feel like I should warn for poop?? There's no poo, just poo humor. Oh God, why is this so funny to me. :( Title is from a Say Anything song.
One day Joe comes home from shopping at Crate and Barrel or wherever the fuck he shops to find Brendon sitting crosslegged on the floor in Joe's guitar room, cleaning a flute. He jams what is essentially a pipe cleaner wrapped around a stick into the flute and moves it quickly in and out.
"Did you buy a flute?" Joe asks, watching Brendon's hands.
"Yeah," Brendon says. "I was really jonesing to play a flute, you know?" He puts his lips up to the flute and blows into the hole steadily, fingering out notes as he goes along. Brendon never realized before how dirty fluting sounds until he breaks it down that way.
"Yeah," Joe says. He kneels on both knees beside Brendon on the floor and takes the flute from his hands. He sets it carefully on the floor before grabbing Brendon's face and kissing him. Brendon still has his lips pursed in a fluting position, so it takes him a moment to catch Joe's drift. He lies back and pulls Joe on top of him, then rolls them over so his knees fall open around Joe's hips.
Joe puts his hand on Brendon's lower back. He doesn't even have to put his hand under any clothing when he moves his hand lower and touches Brendon's tailbone, the top of Brendon's ass.
"Plumber butt," Joe mumbles against Brendon's mouth, moving his fingers even lower.
"Yeah," Brendon says. He was all for everything that was going down up until this point. He pulls his face away from Joe's and gets up off of him very carefully. He doesn't want to work him up any farther than he already has. He feels bad, but he can't bring himself to do what Joe wants right now. "I'm gonna go play with my flute some more, okay?"
Brendon sees Joe's look of confusion for a second before he rubs his hands over his face and sighs. "Yeah," he says. "I'm gonna go play with mine too."
Brendon waits until he hears Joe's bedroom door close before he goes out to his car and calls Jon.
~*~
Brendon is grateful for Jon. Jon is a nice guy and he's been around the block a few times. He spent his formative years with fucking like, William Beckett and Pete Wentz and everyone, so he's definitely been around some blocks.
Brendon sits in his car in Joe's driveway and calls Jon up. There's a half empty bottle of water with no cap in the cupholder, and he unconsciously sticks his finger in it and out of it until he realizes what he's doing and stops.
"Hey Brendon," Jon answers.
"Hi Jon," Brendon sighs dramatically, then makes an unhappy noise.
"Why so glum, chum?" Jon asks. He's so nice to pick up on Brendon's subtly expressed woe.
"I'm having a problem with Joe."
"Lay it on me, string bean."
"It's just like, I'm afraid of pooping on him, you know?"
There's a lengthy pause. Brendon pulls his phone away from his ear and looks at it to make sure the call wasn't dropped. It wasn't.
"No," Jon says after a time.
Perhaps Jon hasn't been around the block quite as many times as Brendon previously thought.
~*~
Jon gets Ryan on threeway calling and has Brendon explain his fears to him. He has pretty much the same reaction as Jon. Brendon can picture Ryan's baffled face perfectly, all completely frozen with his eyebrows raised, like when he's high and gets asked a question he doesn't understand during an interview. At least he's trying somewhat to be helpful.
"You can just like, wash yourself really good," Ryan says.
"Yeah," Jon agrees fervently.
"Can you reach that far?" Ryan asks.
"I've washed my own ass before, asshole," Brendon says.
"Are you having some sort of," Jon says, "like, gay Mormon freakout?"
"No," Brendon says. "Like, if I were a girl, and some guy wanted to do it in my ass, I'd have the exact same fear." Brendon briefly contemplates calling Greta for advice. She's been around the block way more times than these clowns.
"Maybe if you got an enema," Ryan offers.
Brendon pulls the phone away from his ear and holds the mouthpiece right against his mouth. "I'm hanging up now."
~*~
Brendon figures, well, he's already in his car, he may as well go somewhere. He's been wanting to buy a houseplant for Joe as a contribution to his home, so he drives off to find the nearest place that sells plants.
Brendon likes being with Joe. It's easy and it's nice and a bunch of other pleasant feelings; it just makes him think more about the things he sometimes doesn't like about himself, or the things about himself other people might not like. He pokes at his thighs more often now when he's sitting down. Even right now he can feel a tingly spot on his cheek out of which will come a giant pimple. Maybe sometimes he forgets when he still has his retainer in after he wakes up and he goes to blow Joe but then he has to stop and take his retainer out and put it on the bedside table, and it embarrasses him a little. Maybe other times he gets bored standing there watching himself brush his teeth in the bathroom mirror and he walks around Joe's house, and he doesn't realize he needs to spit until the pool of saliva gathered in the veiny reservoir under his tongue spills out of his mouth and onto his arm or Joe's furniture or Joe's dog one time, and he feels kind of gross.
Joe doesn't seem to mind anything about Brendon, though. Brendon doesn't want to mind, either.
There's a Lowe's nearby and Brendon parks and goes to the outdoor department to look at plants. While he's standing there distracted by the fountains sculpted to look like angels or frogs or frog angels, his phone rings.
"Hey, Spencer," Brendon says.
"Ryan says you got a problem with your ass," Spencer says.
"Jesus Christ," Brendon groans, closing his eyes and rubbing one of them really hard with his finger. He's actually standing in front of a fountain shaped like hands pressed together in prayer, so he doesn't feel that bad for offending the old ladies around him. Who the fuck would even buy a fountain like that? Maybe Joe would.
"Just suck it up," Spencer says. "Do you want Joe to fuck you in the ass?" Brendon seriously hopes nobody is overhearing this conversation. The government or someone could be listening to all this.
"Yes, Spencer, I do want that," Brendon says. He honestly does, he thinks.
"So do it already."
"Look," Brendon says, wandering over to the hanging baskets, "I think my fear is a perfectly legitimate fear. Do you understand how traumatizing that would be for a person? You're going at it and then suddenly -- BAM!" Brendon waves his arm to demonstrate his onomatopoeic outburst. "Accidental poop."
"Sometimes sex is traumatizing," Spencer says. It sounds like there are people in the background where Spencer is. Brendon hopes it's just the TV and he's not at like a family function or something. "Especially the first time. Remember how you were nauseous for an entire week after the first time you had sex with a girl?"
"I guess."
"So sometimes it's gross. But if Joe likes you, then he'll stick around to try it again until it's not gross, right?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. He nods to himself. Joe does like him, and he likes Joe a lot.
"Brendon. Brendon, are you ready for this?" Spencer says suddenly. It sounds pretty urgent.
"What?"
"Are you ready for what I'm about to say?"
"Tell me! Tell me."
"Shit happens," Spencer says, completely serious.
Brendon chokes out a laugh and says, "Thanks, I'm hanging up now." He does hang up on Spencer mid-goodbye, but he's truly thankful for him and that he, at least, has been around some blocks a few times.
He buys a fern in a terracotta pot for Joe's house. He puts it in his back seat and heads back.
~*~
When Brendon gets back, he realizes he locked himself out of the house. He hates ringing the doorbell, because the dog always flips out at the sound of it, so he calls Joe's phone.
"Hey, oh man, I was half asleep and I was like, why the fuck is my stomach growling so rhythmically? Like, grr. Stop. Grr. Stop. Grr. Then I noticed my phone was on top of my stomach and it was on vibrate," Joe says.
"Good job," Brendon says. "Hey, can you come get the door for me? I locked myself out."
"Yeah," Joe says in a voice that sounds like he's stretching. "Be there in a sec."
Brendon arranges the fern in front of himself so it's the first thing Joe sees when he opens the door. The first thing Brendon notices when Joe opens the door is that Joe's pants are undone and he's not wearing anything under them. Brendon is ready to suck it up now.
"Brendon, are you okay?" Joe asks. He sounds genuinely concerned, and Brendon feels a fumbling explanation coming on until Joe finishes, "You're looking a little green."
Brendon notices then that Joe is looking at the fern. "Good one," he says. He bends down to pick the pot up and brings it inside to place it underneath Jesus on Joe's moss wall in the entryway.
"You got me a fern?" Joe asks. He rubs his hand down Brendon's arm once and takes Brendon's hand in his.
"Yeah," Brendon says. "I smell all planty now, smell me." He lifts his shoulder and offers it to Joe.
Joe yanks him forward by the hand he's holding and presses his nose into Brendon's shoulder and inhales. He turns his head to huff at Brendon's neck. "Planty," he mumbles. "That makes you the plantiff."
Brendon giggles and puts his free hand on the back of Joe's neck. "Yeah?"
"I'm the deferndant," Joe says, pulling his head back.
"That's a really good one," Brendon says.
"Hey," Joe says, reaching at his neck until he grabs hold of Brendon's other hand. He stretches both their arms out sideways and moves them up and down repeatedly, like he's making a vertical air angel or something. Brendon doesn't know, he's just looking at Joe's face, at his nose, at his eyeballs. "I'm sorry if I freaked you out before."
"No," Brendon says. "It's good. I'm good."
"That's good."
"Joe, I want you to stick it in me."
"I'd like that," Joe says.
Brendon runs his hands over some fronds on the fern and then goes upstairs with his gay boyfriend to have the gayest sex imaginable.
~*~
"Holy shit," Joe says once he's inside Brendon.
"Yeah," Brendon says.
~*~
It's not traumatizing.
"Hey now, that wasn't so bad," Joe says. He's all sweaty and it makes his tattoos appear a shade darker.
"Not bad at all," Brendon agrees. He's all sticky.
Joe gets up to go to the bathroom and get a wash cloth. Brendon hears the sink running longer than it takes to wet a wash cloth.
"Did you just wash your hands because they were all assy?" Brendon asks him when he returns.
"Yeah," Joe says. "Now let me see your ass."
"Haven't you seen it enough for one day?" Brendon says. He lies on his back and refuses to roll over when Joe pushes at his side.
"I'm gonna wash it."
"What?" Brendon says. He's totally ready to kill himself. He's not above or below killing himself right now.
"Because it's all handsy," Joe says. Brendon realizes Joe is just being playful and not implying that Brendon got poop on him anywhere. "Come on."
Joe picks up one of Brendon's legs by the ankle, but Brendon crosses his other ankle over it so Joe can't get to his ass. Joe wraps his arm around both of Brendon's ankles then, like he's got them in a chokehold. Brendon's not sure ankles can choke, at least not from that, but that's what he's doing. Joe stands up on the bed with Brendon's ankles still in trapped by his arm so Brendon's ass lifts off the bed. He swats halfheartedly at Brendon's ass with the wash cloth and then falls over next to him. Brendon is laughing too hard at this point to care about practically anything and he allows Joe to clean off the rest of him.
Joe throws an arm around his waist and hugs him closer. "Who's my little pooper trooper?" He says directly into Brendon's ear.
Brendon thinks he could smother himself with a pillow for sure, but he pushes that thought to another place in his mind and concentrates instead on Joe's fingers on his side.
"I am," Brendon sighs.
~*~THE END~*~
Title: I Wish That I Could Chill with You Tonight
Pairing: Joe Trohman/Brendon Urie
Summary: An interlude in a world where Joe and Brendon are gay boyfriends. Brendon has a fear.
Notes: I feel like I should warn for poop?? There's no poo, just poo humor. Oh God, why is this so funny to me. :( Title is from a Say Anything song.
One day Joe comes home from shopping at Crate and Barrel or wherever the fuck he shops to find Brendon sitting crosslegged on the floor in Joe's guitar room, cleaning a flute. He jams what is essentially a pipe cleaner wrapped around a stick into the flute and moves it quickly in and out.
"Did you buy a flute?" Joe asks, watching Brendon's hands.
"Yeah," Brendon says. "I was really jonesing to play a flute, you know?" He puts his lips up to the flute and blows into the hole steadily, fingering out notes as he goes along. Brendon never realized before how dirty fluting sounds until he breaks it down that way.
"Yeah," Joe says. He kneels on both knees beside Brendon on the floor and takes the flute from his hands. He sets it carefully on the floor before grabbing Brendon's face and kissing him. Brendon still has his lips pursed in a fluting position, so it takes him a moment to catch Joe's drift. He lies back and pulls Joe on top of him, then rolls them over so his knees fall open around Joe's hips.
Joe puts his hand on Brendon's lower back. He doesn't even have to put his hand under any clothing when he moves his hand lower and touches Brendon's tailbone, the top of Brendon's ass.
"Plumber butt," Joe mumbles against Brendon's mouth, moving his fingers even lower.
"Yeah," Brendon says. He was all for everything that was going down up until this point. He pulls his face away from Joe's and gets up off of him very carefully. He doesn't want to work him up any farther than he already has. He feels bad, but he can't bring himself to do what Joe wants right now. "I'm gonna go play with my flute some more, okay?"
Brendon sees Joe's look of confusion for a second before he rubs his hands over his face and sighs. "Yeah," he says. "I'm gonna go play with mine too."
Brendon waits until he hears Joe's bedroom door close before he goes out to his car and calls Jon.
~*~
Brendon is grateful for Jon. Jon is a nice guy and he's been around the block a few times. He spent his formative years with fucking like, William Beckett and Pete Wentz and everyone, so he's definitely been around some blocks.
Brendon sits in his car in Joe's driveway and calls Jon up. There's a half empty bottle of water with no cap in the cupholder, and he unconsciously sticks his finger in it and out of it until he realizes what he's doing and stops.
"Hey Brendon," Jon answers.
"Hi Jon," Brendon sighs dramatically, then makes an unhappy noise.
"Why so glum, chum?" Jon asks. He's so nice to pick up on Brendon's subtly expressed woe.
"I'm having a problem with Joe."
"Lay it on me, string bean."
"It's just like, I'm afraid of pooping on him, you know?"
There's a lengthy pause. Brendon pulls his phone away from his ear and looks at it to make sure the call wasn't dropped. It wasn't.
"No," Jon says after a time.
Perhaps Jon hasn't been around the block quite as many times as Brendon previously thought.
~*~
Jon gets Ryan on threeway calling and has Brendon explain his fears to him. He has pretty much the same reaction as Jon. Brendon can picture Ryan's baffled face perfectly, all completely frozen with his eyebrows raised, like when he's high and gets asked a question he doesn't understand during an interview. At least he's trying somewhat to be helpful.
"You can just like, wash yourself really good," Ryan says.
"Yeah," Jon agrees fervently.
"Can you reach that far?" Ryan asks.
"I've washed my own ass before, asshole," Brendon says.
"Are you having some sort of," Jon says, "like, gay Mormon freakout?"
"No," Brendon says. "Like, if I were a girl, and some guy wanted to do it in my ass, I'd have the exact same fear." Brendon briefly contemplates calling Greta for advice. She's been around the block way more times than these clowns.
"Maybe if you got an enema," Ryan offers.
Brendon pulls the phone away from his ear and holds the mouthpiece right against his mouth. "I'm hanging up now."
~*~
Brendon figures, well, he's already in his car, he may as well go somewhere. He's been wanting to buy a houseplant for Joe as a contribution to his home, so he drives off to find the nearest place that sells plants.
Brendon likes being with Joe. It's easy and it's nice and a bunch of other pleasant feelings; it just makes him think more about the things he sometimes doesn't like about himself, or the things about himself other people might not like. He pokes at his thighs more often now when he's sitting down. Even right now he can feel a tingly spot on his cheek out of which will come a giant pimple. Maybe sometimes he forgets when he still has his retainer in after he wakes up and he goes to blow Joe but then he has to stop and take his retainer out and put it on the bedside table, and it embarrasses him a little. Maybe other times he gets bored standing there watching himself brush his teeth in the bathroom mirror and he walks around Joe's house, and he doesn't realize he needs to spit until the pool of saliva gathered in the veiny reservoir under his tongue spills out of his mouth and onto his arm or Joe's furniture or Joe's dog one time, and he feels kind of gross.
Joe doesn't seem to mind anything about Brendon, though. Brendon doesn't want to mind, either.
There's a Lowe's nearby and Brendon parks and goes to the outdoor department to look at plants. While he's standing there distracted by the fountains sculpted to look like angels or frogs or frog angels, his phone rings.
"Hey, Spencer," Brendon says.
"Ryan says you got a problem with your ass," Spencer says.
"Jesus Christ," Brendon groans, closing his eyes and rubbing one of them really hard with his finger. He's actually standing in front of a fountain shaped like hands pressed together in prayer, so he doesn't feel that bad for offending the old ladies around him. Who the fuck would even buy a fountain like that? Maybe Joe would.
"Just suck it up," Spencer says. "Do you want Joe to fuck you in the ass?" Brendon seriously hopes nobody is overhearing this conversation. The government or someone could be listening to all this.
"Yes, Spencer, I do want that," Brendon says. He honestly does, he thinks.
"So do it already."
"Look," Brendon says, wandering over to the hanging baskets, "I think my fear is a perfectly legitimate fear. Do you understand how traumatizing that would be for a person? You're going at it and then suddenly -- BAM!" Brendon waves his arm to demonstrate his onomatopoeic outburst. "Accidental poop."
"Sometimes sex is traumatizing," Spencer says. It sounds like there are people in the background where Spencer is. Brendon hopes it's just the TV and he's not at like a family function or something. "Especially the first time. Remember how you were nauseous for an entire week after the first time you had sex with a girl?"
"I guess."
"So sometimes it's gross. But if Joe likes you, then he'll stick around to try it again until it's not gross, right?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. He nods to himself. Joe does like him, and he likes Joe a lot.
"Brendon. Brendon, are you ready for this?" Spencer says suddenly. It sounds pretty urgent.
"What?"
"Are you ready for what I'm about to say?"
"Tell me! Tell me."
"Shit happens," Spencer says, completely serious.
Brendon chokes out a laugh and says, "Thanks, I'm hanging up now." He does hang up on Spencer mid-goodbye, but he's truly thankful for him and that he, at least, has been around some blocks a few times.
He buys a fern in a terracotta pot for Joe's house. He puts it in his back seat and heads back.
~*~
When Brendon gets back, he realizes he locked himself out of the house. He hates ringing the doorbell, because the dog always flips out at the sound of it, so he calls Joe's phone.
"Hey, oh man, I was half asleep and I was like, why the fuck is my stomach growling so rhythmically? Like, grr. Stop. Grr. Stop. Grr. Then I noticed my phone was on top of my stomach and it was on vibrate," Joe says.
"Good job," Brendon says. "Hey, can you come get the door for me? I locked myself out."
"Yeah," Joe says in a voice that sounds like he's stretching. "Be there in a sec."
Brendon arranges the fern in front of himself so it's the first thing Joe sees when he opens the door. The first thing Brendon notices when Joe opens the door is that Joe's pants are undone and he's not wearing anything under them. Brendon is ready to suck it up now.
"Brendon, are you okay?" Joe asks. He sounds genuinely concerned, and Brendon feels a fumbling explanation coming on until Joe finishes, "You're looking a little green."
Brendon notices then that Joe is looking at the fern. "Good one," he says. He bends down to pick the pot up and brings it inside to place it underneath Jesus on Joe's moss wall in the entryway.
"You got me a fern?" Joe asks. He rubs his hand down Brendon's arm once and takes Brendon's hand in his.
"Yeah," Brendon says. "I smell all planty now, smell me." He lifts his shoulder and offers it to Joe.
Joe yanks him forward by the hand he's holding and presses his nose into Brendon's shoulder and inhales. He turns his head to huff at Brendon's neck. "Planty," he mumbles. "That makes you the plantiff."
Brendon giggles and puts his free hand on the back of Joe's neck. "Yeah?"
"I'm the deferndant," Joe says, pulling his head back.
"That's a really good one," Brendon says.
"Hey," Joe says, reaching at his neck until he grabs hold of Brendon's other hand. He stretches both their arms out sideways and moves them up and down repeatedly, like he's making a vertical air angel or something. Brendon doesn't know, he's just looking at Joe's face, at his nose, at his eyeballs. "I'm sorry if I freaked you out before."
"No," Brendon says. "It's good. I'm good."
"That's good."
"Joe, I want you to stick it in me."
"I'd like that," Joe says.
Brendon runs his hands over some fronds on the fern and then goes upstairs with his gay boyfriend to have the gayest sex imaginable.
~*~
"Holy shit," Joe says once he's inside Brendon.
"Yeah," Brendon says.
~*~
It's not traumatizing.
"Hey now, that wasn't so bad," Joe says. He's all sweaty and it makes his tattoos appear a shade darker.
"Not bad at all," Brendon agrees. He's all sticky.
Joe gets up to go to the bathroom and get a wash cloth. Brendon hears the sink running longer than it takes to wet a wash cloth.
"Did you just wash your hands because they were all assy?" Brendon asks him when he returns.
"Yeah," Joe says. "Now let me see your ass."
"Haven't you seen it enough for one day?" Brendon says. He lies on his back and refuses to roll over when Joe pushes at his side.
"I'm gonna wash it."
"What?" Brendon says. He's totally ready to kill himself. He's not above or below killing himself right now.
"Because it's all handsy," Joe says. Brendon realizes Joe is just being playful and not implying that Brendon got poop on him anywhere. "Come on."
Joe picks up one of Brendon's legs by the ankle, but Brendon crosses his other ankle over it so Joe can't get to his ass. Joe wraps his arm around both of Brendon's ankles then, like he's got them in a chokehold. Brendon's not sure ankles can choke, at least not from that, but that's what he's doing. Joe stands up on the bed with Brendon's ankles still in trapped by his arm so Brendon's ass lifts off the bed. He swats halfheartedly at Brendon's ass with the wash cloth and then falls over next to him. Brendon is laughing too hard at this point to care about practically anything and he allows Joe to clean off the rest of him.
Joe throws an arm around his waist and hugs him closer. "Who's my little pooper trooper?" He says directly into Brendon's ear.
Brendon thinks he could smother himself with a pillow for sure, but he pushes that thought to another place in his mind and concentrates instead on Joe's fingers on his side.
"I am," Brendon sighs.
~*~THE END~*~