There's a Reason They Call It a Crush 1/2 , PG-13, Brendon/Jon, Spencer/Ryan
There's a Reason They Call It a Crush | Panic at the Disco (and Empires) | Jon/Brendon, Spencer/Ryan (with various others) | PG-13 | ~11,000 words
“Come on, I’m serious,” Brendon said. “This is important, okay? This could be a life changing moment that we’re having here. Hot Starbucks Guy told me that I should come by during his shift today.” Barista AU and college AU. (Reinventing the wheel, I know.) Failboat Brendons and the Jons who love them. Thanks to siryn99 and chaneen for the betas and cobraliciousomg for the read through. Written for playfullips's birthday.
I promise, one of these day I'm going to stop writing the same story over and over, but today is not that day.
There's a Reason They Call It a Crush (1/2)
by iamtheenemy
“I’m going to Starbucks,” Brendon said by way of greeting as he pushed past Spencer’s raised arm.
“Actually, this is my apartment,” Spencer replied with a raised eyebrow, closing the front door and turning to face Brendon. “But I can see how you’d get confused.”
“I’m going to Starbucks, and you need to tell me if I look good.” Brendon turned in a circle to show off his blue t-shirt and snug jeans. “What do you think?”
“Get out,” Spencer said, opening the door.
“Come on, I’m serious,” Brendon said. “This is important, okay? This could be a life changing moment that we’re having here. Hot Starbucks Guy told me that I should come by during his shift today.”
“ I’m serious too, Brendon. I’m serious about being woken up at nine o’clock on a fucking Saturday so that we can have girl talk time.”
Spencer liked to think that he was scary, but Brendon didn’t believe it for a second. “Please,” he scoffed. “Did you think I missed those yellow flowers you had yesterday? And that they matched the ones tucked behind your boyfriend’s ear? I bet you thought you were being stealthy by putting them in your pocket, but I’ll tell you something, Spencer, you’re not as smooth as you think you are.”
“Brendon…” Spencer said warningly. The tips of his ears reddening let Brendon know he scored a direct hit.
“Spencer,” Brendon countered. “Hot Starbucks Guy. Come on, embrace your gayness for, like, two seconds to help me out.”
“His gayness can be embraced longer than two seconds,” Ryan said, pushing away from the door of his and Spencer’s shared bedroom and joining them.
“Ryan, thank god,” Brendon said fervently while Spencer ducked his head and blushed - he was so cute, seriously, who did he think the beard was fooling? “How do I look?”
Ryan wrapped an arm around Spencer’s waist and tucked his freaky-long fingers into the waistband of Spencer’s pajama pants. “Turn around again,” he instructed and Brendon complied.
“Well?” he asked once he faced Ryan.
“Your ass looks great in those jeans,” Ryan declared and Brendon beamed.
“Thanks!” he said, reaching back to pat a cheek. “See? Would that have been so hard, Spencer?”
Spencer gave him an unimpressed look. “I’m not a big fan of asses.”
Brendon gasped. “That’s a vicious lie!” he said, then took in Ryan’s wire-thin frame and virtually non-existent ass and was forced to admit Spencer might be telling the truth. “Anyway, someone wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” Spencer said, yawning and scratching his beard. “Leave now.”
“Try not to be, you know…” Ryan gestured at Brendon. “So much like how you are.”
“I’ll do my best,” Brendon promised. He walked to the door and turned back to them, grinning. “Spencer, you know, yellow is a manly color. I’ve always said that.”
“Jesus Christ, Urie, get out of my house,” Spencer said over Ryan’s quiet laughter.
*
Spencer and Ryan’s building was two blocks away from Brendon’s dorm and only a half a block from the Starbucks. The mid-September air was chilly, and Brendon knew that it wouldn’t be long until he had to pull out his hoodies to make it through the brisk Chicago autumn. Even though he was starting his second year of school in Illinois, the abrupt drop in temperature between summer and fall always threw him.
It was worth braving the cold air if it meant getting to talk to Hot Starbucks Guy again. Brendon would walk naked through a snowstorm for that. Since he’d moved halfway across the country, met Ryan and admitted to himself that he was gay, he’d had a few less-than-stellar hook-ups, and that was it. At this point, he was more gay in theory than in actual practice, but that was all going to change, because Hot Starbucks Guy asked him to stop by during his shift today.
He spent the short walk reminding himself not to say anything stupid, to be completely cool the way he’d practiced. He must have just missed the morning rush, because when he walked in, the only other customer in the place was a girl in the corner typing away on her laptop.
Cool, he thought, and calmly walked to the counter. Hot Starbucks Guy met him at the register and grinned. Brendon tried not to beam too brightly back.
“Hi, Ho-“ Brendon cut himself off at the last moment and bit his lip hard. He was really going to have to stop referring to him as Hot Starbucks Guy. “How are you?” he saved.
“Tired,” Hot Starbucks - Tom, Brendon reminded himself - answered. “I had to be here at five, and I didn’t get home from band practice until one.”
“Wow, that sucks,” Brendon said. Thanks to the stalking powers of Facebook, Brendon knew that Tom was in a band called Empires. He also knew that his major was in fine arts with a focus on photography, and he had a dog named Bear that he sometimes dressed up in tiny blue sweater vests. Brendon knew kind of a lot about Tom Conrad. “Oh, you’re in a band?”
“Yeah!” Tom said, and disappeared for a second underneath the counter. “That’s why I wanted you to stop by today. We’re playing a show next week at the Subterranean, you should come.” He handed Brendon a black and white flyer.
Brendon knew about the show. He’d even considered showing up and then acting surprised to see Tom - oh, you’re in the band? - but he didn’t think that Tom would actually invite him, oh god. He stared down at the flyer and took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart before looking up at him.
“Sure, I mean, if I don’t have anything else to do,” he said.
“Cool, and if you have any friends that you want to bring with, that would be awesome. Tickets are only five dollars, and you’ll be able to buy them at the door, because it’s not like they’re going to sell out.”
Brendon felt his heart sink. Guys who were hitting on you probably didn’t make you by a ticket to see their band play. They’d put you on the guest list - or at least that’s what always happened in the movies. Still, Tom asked Brendon specifically to come. And, okay, now that he was looking, he could see the flyers up around the store, but that didn’t mean anything. Of course Tom wanted people to go to the show, but it wasn’t like he was personally handing out flyers to everyone. It’s not like he asked anyone else to stop in just so that he could hand them flyers and invite them to see his band play.
“Sure, I have two friends. I mean, I have more than two friends, but. Two friends that might be able to come with me. To your show - your band’s show. Empires’ show.” Brendon shut his mouth before his babbling reached epic proportions.
“Awesome!” Tom said. “So what can I get you?”
“Venti hot chocolate, please,” Brendon said.
“That’s $4.86,” Tom said, handed Brendon change when he forked over a five dollar bill, and then set about making the drink.
“Oh my god,” Brendon whispered to himself when Tom was out of earshot.
A voice came from beside him. “Are you gonna go?”
Brendon jerked around to see another employee that he recognized from his frequent visits. “What?” he asked.
“To the concert?” His nametag said Jon, and Brendon was pretty sure he was the Jon that lived with Tom.
“Yes,” Brendon said, a bit too emphatically. “I mean, yeah, of course I am.” He rolled his eyes at himself. “He just…He’s just so…”
Jon smirked. “So that’s how it is, huh? Should have guessed. Tommy makes all the boys crazy.”
“Yeah,” Brendon sighed, looking over at where Tom was still busy making his drink.
“He and I live together,” Jon said, and Brendon snapped his attention back to him.
“Oh?” he asked, pretending to be surprised by that news.
“It’s a townhouse and there’s four of us. Anyway, we’re having a party tonight. You could come by, if you wanted.”
Brendon dug his short fingernails into the palms of his hands to stop himself from doing some kind of embarrassing victory dance. “He’ll be there?”
Jon looked over Brendon’s shoulder at Tom. “Yeah, he will.”
*
Brendon stood in front of Tom’s door at ten thirty. His outfit had been Ryan-approved, though Brendon made a last minute executive decision to ditch the scarf and fedora. He ran his sweaty palms against his thighs and pressed the doorbell.
The door opened a minute later, and the music went from muffled to blaring out from inside the house.
The guy holding the door was tall with dark skin and the kind of beard that comes from not caring enough to shave every day. Brendon was instantly jealous. His own carefully orchestrated attempts at not shaving made his face look like it was covered with the stuff that grew on top of his spaghetti when he left it sitting out for a week.
“Well, get in, man.”
“Oh, sorry,” Brendon said, stepping forward into the house. There were people milling around everywhere, holding red plastic cups and dancing to some song Brendon had never heard.
The guy held up another red cup and a Sharpie and waved them both at Brendon. “What’s your name?”
“Hmm? Oh, Brendon.”
“Alfred,” the guy replied, before sloppily and incorrectly copying Brendon’s name onto the cup, giving him two e’s instead of one. He handed the cup to him with a curious look. “You’re Brendon, huh?”
Brendon clutched the cup to his chest and tried not to die. Had Tom mentioned him to his other hot friends?
“Well, it’s my secret identity,” Brendon answered.
“Sure,” Alfred said. “Beer and liquor are in the kitchen. If you want to smoke up, go on the back porch, straight past the bathroom. Chips are…somewhere. They’re Cool Ranch Doritos so it’s every man for himself, but your best bet is with Sean.” He nodded his head toward someone on the couch, hugging something that looked suspiciously like a bag.
“Thanks,” Brendon said. “I’ll just get some beer.”
“Whatever,” Alfred said, already turning away from Brendon and towards a pretty girl in a slinky black dress. “Nice meeting you.”
“Yeah, you too,” Brendon said, heading for the kitchen and keeping an eye out for Tom or Jon.
There was a keg in the corner and few people gathered around, filling their cups. Brendon made a beeline for it and got in line. He was feeling jittery and figured getting alcohol immediately to calm his nerves would be the best idea.
“Mmm…Miller Lite,” said the guy in front of him, waving the nozzle at Brendon enticingly. “The best beer a food service engineer can buy.”
“Food service engineer?” Brendon asked, handing over his cup.
“Bartender,” the guy answered with a grin. “Here, let me show you my skills.” He tilted the cup and poured, ending with only a thin layer of foam on the top. “Look at that.”
“Impressive,” Brendon admitted, taking a sip.
“Thanks, uh…” the guy looked down at the cup in Brendon’s hand and said, “Oh, hey, you’re…”
“Brendon!” An arm wrapped around Brendon’s shoulders and he turned to see Jon smiling at him, eyes a little glazed and hair a little rumpled. “You came!”
“I did,” Brendon said, waggling his eyebrows in a mysterious manner. “Or did I?”
Jon blinked at him. “Dude, don’t confuse me, I just came in from the back porch. You met Ryan?”
“I met Alfred?” Brendon tried.
“I’m Ryan,” said the guy who poured Brendon’s drink. “Hi.”
“Oh, hey. Then yes, I met Ryan.”
“Cool, cool. Ryan, Brendon. Ryan’s the drummer for Empires.”
“Oh really?” Brendon asked, turning to him. “I’m probably going to see you guys play next week.”
“Bring your friends,” Ryan said, smiling and taking a sip of his drink.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people,” Jon said. “I’m fucking hungry, man. Have you seen the Doritos anywhere?”
“Um, I think Alfred said Sean had them?” Brendon said. What was it with the Doritos?
“Then that’s where we’re going first. That bastard didn’t even buy them this time.” Jon tugged him along out of the kitchen. “Sean!”
They made their way through the hallway that led to the living room when something soft brushed against Brendon’s foot. He jumped back instinctively, and then looked down to see a gray cat rubbing its back against the wall and staring up at Brendon.
Crouching down, he put out his hand and crooned softly, barely audible over the loud music. The cat inched its head under Brendon’s palm to be petted.
“Hello,” Brendon said. “Sorry I jumped before, I thought you were a giant spider.”
The cat responded by licking its muzzle and shutting its eyes.
“That’s Dylan.”
Brendon looked up to see Jon smiling down at him, his arms folded across his chest.
“Is he yours?” Brendon asked.
“Yeah,” Jon said. “And I have another one named Clover.”
“Cute,” Brendon said.
“Jon, have you seen Sean?”
Brendon almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to get up when Tom came out of one of the closed doors along the hallway.
“Hey, Tom,” Brendon said, brushing the cat hair off of his t-shirt self-consciously.
“Hey,” Tom said, grinning. He held a cigarette that he took a long drag of, before exhaling and saying, “Jon told me he invited you.”
“Yeah. Yeah, hey,” Brendon said, and then hastily added, “What’s up?”
Tom shrugged. “The usual. You?”
“The same, you know. The usual.”
“Cool,” Tom said. He used the hand not holding the cigarette to push the hair out of his eyes and Brendon felt his face heat. He was so hot, oh god.
“Why do you want Sean?” Jon asked, pulling Tom’s attention back to him.
“Because he’s a fucking thief, and he’s going to pay with his life,” Tom promised.
“Is this about the Doritos?” Brendon asked and Tom frowned.
“No, what? Wait, did that asshole eat the last bag? He didn’t even buy them this time!”
“That’s what I said,” Jon chimed in.
“Is that him?” Brendon asked, gesturing to the guy who Alfred pointed out to him earlier.
“Van Vleet!” Tom shouted, taking off at a run.
“Oh, shit!” the guy - who was Sean, apparently - yelled. He spun around and started pushing people out of the way in order to escape.
“See you,” Brendon said weakly at Tom’s quickly retreating form.
Jon snorted next to him, and Brendon turned to glare at him. “Shut up.”
“You’re really bad at this,” Jon told him, making Brendon sigh.
“Yeah, I know. If he was a girl, there wouldn’t be any problem.”
“Bi?” Jon asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
“No, I’m pretty sure I’m gay,” Brendon mused. “My parents are really religious, and I didn’t actually figure it all out until I got to college.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “In fact, November twentieth will be my one year gay-iversary.”
Jon cracked up, nudging his shoulder against Brendon’s. “Gay-iversary, really?”
“That’s what Ryan - my Ryan, not yours, obviously - calls it. I don’t know, I like it. I’m hoping that I get cake,” Brendon answered.
“Well, of course. It wouldn’t be a gay-iversary without delicious baked goods,” Jon agreed.
“That’s what I’m saying,” Brendon replied triumphantly. “I’m glad you understand me, Jon.”
“Let’s go, I’ll introduce you to Clover.”
In the living room, near the front door, Tom had Sean on the floor in a headlock and was rubbing his knuckles over Sean’s head in a vigorous noogie while the crowd around them laughed and hollered.
“I said I was sorry!” Sean was yelling as he batted at Tom’s hands. Brendon watched them wistfully for a moment longer before following Jon upstairs.
*
Brendon had the worst friends ever. They thought it was more important to go to some stupid poetry reading instead of with Brendon to Tom’s concert. So he was stuck taking the Red Line to the Blue Line then the Blue Line to Damen, buying his ticket and walking inside the Subterranean alone.
Luckily, he saw Ryan, the drummer, almost immediately and made his way through the decent-sized crowd to get to him.
“Hey,” he said once he arrived.
“Oh, hey, Brendon, right?” Ryan asked.
“Yeah, Ryan?” Brendon asked back, because it seemed like the thing to do.
“Yeah, good to see you again. Where’re your friends?”
“Maya Angelou is here giving a speech and then doing a reading of her poetry, I guess?” Brendon answered with an apologetic shrug. “They bought tickets weeks ago. Or, actually, my one friend bought both tickets and is dragging his boyfriend, my other friend, along with him”
“English major?” Ryan asked and Brendon laughed.
“Double major in English and Creative Writing,” he corrected.
“We didn’t stand a chance,” Ryan said. He looked over Brendon shoulder and called, “Tom, Jonny, look who I found!”
Brendon whirled around to see the two guys each carrying a box and walking towards them.
“Hey, Brendon,” Tom said.
“Hey, do you need help?” Brendon asked, stepping up to grab the end of the box.
“Sure, thanks. It’s just t-shirts and stuff, but they’re heavy. We’re going to the merch booth right behind you.”
Together, they made shuffle-stepped to the booth, holding the box by the bottom. Every few steps, Tom’s right thumb would brush against Brendon’s left and send a little spark of pleasure through him. They put the box on the table and a pudgy kid with curly dark hair transferred it next to the four or so other boxes against the wall behind the booth.
“A little help,” Jon said from behind them, and Brendon helped him ease his box on the table too. “Thanks,” he said, smiling at Brendon.
“You’re welcome. So, hey, hi,” Brendon said.
“Hi,” Jon returned, bouncing on his toes.
“That’s all of it, Max,” Tom said, indicating the stack of boxes.
“Good,” Max said, and then turned to Brendon. “Thanks for the help, random guy.”
“No problem,” Brendon said.
“Brendon, Max. Max, Brendon,” Tom introduced flippantly. “He was at the party last week.”
Brendon leaned over the table to shake the guy’s hand. “Are you in Tom’s band too?”
Max scoffed. “Tom’s in my band.”
Before Brendon had time to feel embarrassed, Tom leaned in to whisper in his ear, loud enough for the others to hear, “We like to let him feel important sometimes. It’s better not to disagree with him.”
Brendon leaned up and whispered back, “I wouldn’t want to spoil his delusions.” His lips scraped against the stubble on Tom’s cheek. He wanted to taste it, but he pulled away instead, feeling shaky and turned on.
“We need to start setting up,” Max said, rolling his eyes. “So if you’re done making yourself feel better?”
“Max, you know it’s only out of love and concern for you,” Tom said. “Jon, you’re staying back here, right?”
“Yeah,” Jon said. “Brendon, wanna hang out while they get all their equipment set up?”
“Sure,” Brendon said gratefully, following Jon around the table.
“The cash goes in here,” Jon said, lifting a small, metal cash box and giving it a rattle. “Shirts and CDs are both ten bucks.”
“Seems easy enough,” Brendon said, just in time for a group of ten or so kids to come wandering up.
Half an hour later, the merch buyers were down to a few people trickling quickly in and out on their way to the stage.
“Do you do this for them a lot?” Brendon asked.
“Well, they’ve only had a couple of shows so far,” Jon answered. “I like helping out. And even if I didn’t, I live in a house with three of the five guys in the band. It’s kind of a requirement.”
“Sean and Ryan live there too, right?” Brendon asked. He remembered that from Tom’s Facebook.
“Yeah, and Max and Alfred might as well live with us, since they’re there so goddamn much anyway. What about you? Where do you live?”
“Dorms,” Brendon said, making a face. “The only good thing is that I managed to get a single this year. I worked like crazy over the summer with my dad’s roofing company to afford it, but it’s so worth it. My roommate last year was a total neat freak. I thought he was going to flip out when I accidentally left a wet towel on the floor.”
“That sucks,” Jon agreed, nodding.
“It more than sucked,” Brendon said. “I feared for my life, man. He was seriously scary. Like, he got this look, when I didn’t put the milk back on the right side of the mini-fridge or whatever, that said he was considering the best place to hide my body.” Brendon shuddered at the memory of Nathan’s cold, dead eyes tracking his every movement in their small dorm. “I ended up staying over with my friends, Ryan and Spencer, most nights. They have an apartment now that they signed the lease for all the way back in September of last year, so I couldn’t live with them.”
“Wait, they signed the lease last September to live in this year? That’s really early,” Jon said.
“Spencer’s a freak,” Brendon explained. “Anyway, I probably wouldn’t have wanted to live with them anyway. They’ve been dating since they were seven or something, and that would just be weird.”
“Walking in on them,” Jon supplied.
Brendon pulled a face. “Exactly. Even just hearing it would be enough. I’m okay with going the rest of my life never knowing that Ryan calls Spencer “Papa” or Spencer likes getting his toes sucked. There’s some things friends don’t need to know.”
“Agreed,” Jon said. Their conversation was paused a moment when a girl came up and bought a t-shirt. Once she walked away, Jon said, “It’s even harder with four of us. The house is pretty big, and we all have our own bedrooms, but it’s kind of unavoidable. A few weeks ago, Tom and I walked in on Sean getting blown by some chick right on the couch. I’ll never get that image out of my head, man. Tom had a fucking fit.”
“That’s what I mean,” Brendon said. “Some things you don’t need to know.”
“And now that I have that mental picture back in my brain, I need a drink to wash the pain away. Do you want anything?”
“Um…to be twenty-one?” Brendon said, holding up his hand to show off the black X across it.
“So young,” Jon sighed. “Soon you’ll be old and wise like me. Corona?”
“I guess,” Brendon said, and Jon darted away. He sold a couple more CDs while he waited for Jon to get back. The house lights dimmed and a cheer went up in the crowd as the opening band came out on stage.
Jon slipped back behind the table then with two beers. “Just put your hand in your pocket.”
“Thanks,” Brendon said. “So do you know this band?”
“Not really. I think they’re Max’s friends or something. Not bad though.”
Brendon shook his head. “No, not bad.”
They listened to a couple of songs, before Jon turned to him. “I’m gonna grab some stools.”
He returned a few minutes later with two stools. He handed one to Brendon and used one for himself.
“Thanks,” Brendon said. “Hey, so I like your shirt.”
Jon looked down at his Pink Floyd shirt and back up at Brendon with a grin. “I’m not a huge fan of their music, but I love doing the Dark Side of the Rainbow.”
Brendon frowned, confused. “What?”
“You don’t know what the Dark Side of the Rainbow is, are you serious?” Jon asked, sounding shocked. “It’s crazy. Look, okay, you play The Wizard of Oz on mute and “Dark Side of the Moon” at the same time and they synch up perfectly. It’s even trippier when you’re high. It’s like a whole other experience.”
“I want to try it!” Brendon said. “Wait, it actually, what, narrates it or something?”
“We’ll do it, man, me and you. Dark Side of the Rainbow, tomorrow. And it doesn’t narrate it exactly, but…you’ll have to see, okay. It’s nuts.”
“Sure, tomorrow,” Brendon promised. Then, at that moment, Empires took the stage and Brendon forgot about everything else for the next hour in the face of Tom Conrad, sweaty and intense, playing his guitar like his life depended on it.
*
“This is…” Brendon said. “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!”
On the television, Dorothy and Toto were making their way down the yellow brick road with Pink Floyd a perfect accompaniment on their journey.
“Right?” Jon asked. He put his bong down on the coffee table and looked at Brendon with serious eyes. “It’s incredible, right?”
“It is!” Brendon answered. Dorothy was facing off against the Wicked Witch of the West and Brendon blinked a few times, sluggishly. “I am so glad I never have to meet the Wicked Witch.”
“Flying monkeys,” Jon said, giving himself a little shake.
Brendon shifted so that he was on his knees and then crawled closer to Jon, one precarious lurch at a time. “Jon, this is important. Are you listening?”
“Yes,” Jon said.
Brendon framed Jon’s face with his hands and said, “You need to convince Tom’s band to do something like this to - I don’t know - Mary Poppins or something.”
Jon was quiet a moment and then smirked at Brendon. “Mary Poppins?” he asked.
“Or something, I said. Some other classic movie from our childhoods,” Brendon clarified.
“Aladdin,” Jon said and Brendon whooped. He almost sent himself careening off the couch, but Jon caught him around the waist at the last minute.
“You’re a genius; that is perfect,” Brendon declared.
Part Two
“Come on, I’m serious,” Brendon said. “This is important, okay? This could be a life changing moment that we’re having here. Hot Starbucks Guy told me that I should come by during his shift today.” Barista AU and college AU. (Reinventing the wheel, I know.) Failboat Brendons and the Jons who love them. Thanks to siryn99 and chaneen for the betas and cobraliciousomg for the read through. Written for playfullips's birthday.
I promise, one of these day I'm going to stop writing the same story over and over, but today is not that day.
There's a Reason They Call It a Crush (1/2)
by iamtheenemy
“I’m going to Starbucks,” Brendon said by way of greeting as he pushed past Spencer’s raised arm.
“Actually, this is my apartment,” Spencer replied with a raised eyebrow, closing the front door and turning to face Brendon. “But I can see how you’d get confused.”
“I’m going to Starbucks, and you need to tell me if I look good.” Brendon turned in a circle to show off his blue t-shirt and snug jeans. “What do you think?”
“Get out,” Spencer said, opening the door.
“Come on, I’m serious,” Brendon said. “This is important, okay? This could be a life changing moment that we’re having here. Hot Starbucks Guy told me that I should come by during his shift today.”
“ I’m serious too, Brendon. I’m serious about being woken up at nine o’clock on a fucking Saturday so that we can have girl talk time.”
Spencer liked to think that he was scary, but Brendon didn’t believe it for a second. “Please,” he scoffed. “Did you think I missed those yellow flowers you had yesterday? And that they matched the ones tucked behind your boyfriend’s ear? I bet you thought you were being stealthy by putting them in your pocket, but I’ll tell you something, Spencer, you’re not as smooth as you think you are.”
“Brendon…” Spencer said warningly. The tips of his ears reddening let Brendon know he scored a direct hit.
“Spencer,” Brendon countered. “Hot Starbucks Guy. Come on, embrace your gayness for, like, two seconds to help me out.”
“His gayness can be embraced longer than two seconds,” Ryan said, pushing away from the door of his and Spencer’s shared bedroom and joining them.
“Ryan, thank god,” Brendon said fervently while Spencer ducked his head and blushed - he was so cute, seriously, who did he think the beard was fooling? “How do I look?”
Ryan wrapped an arm around Spencer’s waist and tucked his freaky-long fingers into the waistband of Spencer’s pajama pants. “Turn around again,” he instructed and Brendon complied.
“Well?” he asked once he faced Ryan.
“Your ass looks great in those jeans,” Ryan declared and Brendon beamed.
“Thanks!” he said, reaching back to pat a cheek. “See? Would that have been so hard, Spencer?”
Spencer gave him an unimpressed look. “I’m not a big fan of asses.”
Brendon gasped. “That’s a vicious lie!” he said, then took in Ryan’s wire-thin frame and virtually non-existent ass and was forced to admit Spencer might be telling the truth. “Anyway, someone wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” Spencer said, yawning and scratching his beard. “Leave now.”
“Try not to be, you know…” Ryan gestured at Brendon. “So much like how you are.”
“I’ll do my best,” Brendon promised. He walked to the door and turned back to them, grinning. “Spencer, you know, yellow is a manly color. I’ve always said that.”
“Jesus Christ, Urie, get out of my house,” Spencer said over Ryan’s quiet laughter.
*
Spencer and Ryan’s building was two blocks away from Brendon’s dorm and only a half a block from the Starbucks. The mid-September air was chilly, and Brendon knew that it wouldn’t be long until he had to pull out his hoodies to make it through the brisk Chicago autumn. Even though he was starting his second year of school in Illinois, the abrupt drop in temperature between summer and fall always threw him.
It was worth braving the cold air if it meant getting to talk to Hot Starbucks Guy again. Brendon would walk naked through a snowstorm for that. Since he’d moved halfway across the country, met Ryan and admitted to himself that he was gay, he’d had a few less-than-stellar hook-ups, and that was it. At this point, he was more gay in theory than in actual practice, but that was all going to change, because Hot Starbucks Guy asked him to stop by during his shift today.
He spent the short walk reminding himself not to say anything stupid, to be completely cool the way he’d practiced. He must have just missed the morning rush, because when he walked in, the only other customer in the place was a girl in the corner typing away on her laptop.
Cool, he thought, and calmly walked to the counter. Hot Starbucks Guy met him at the register and grinned. Brendon tried not to beam too brightly back.
“Hi, Ho-“ Brendon cut himself off at the last moment and bit his lip hard. He was really going to have to stop referring to him as Hot Starbucks Guy. “How are you?” he saved.
“Tired,” Hot Starbucks - Tom, Brendon reminded himself - answered. “I had to be here at five, and I didn’t get home from band practice until one.”
“Wow, that sucks,” Brendon said. Thanks to the stalking powers of Facebook, Brendon knew that Tom was in a band called Empires. He also knew that his major was in fine arts with a focus on photography, and he had a dog named Bear that he sometimes dressed up in tiny blue sweater vests. Brendon knew kind of a lot about Tom Conrad. “Oh, you’re in a band?”
“Yeah!” Tom said, and disappeared for a second underneath the counter. “That’s why I wanted you to stop by today. We’re playing a show next week at the Subterranean, you should come.” He handed Brendon a black and white flyer.
Brendon knew about the show. He’d even considered showing up and then acting surprised to see Tom - oh, you’re in the band? - but he didn’t think that Tom would actually invite him, oh god. He stared down at the flyer and took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart before looking up at him.
“Sure, I mean, if I don’t have anything else to do,” he said.
“Cool, and if you have any friends that you want to bring with, that would be awesome. Tickets are only five dollars, and you’ll be able to buy them at the door, because it’s not like they’re going to sell out.”
Brendon felt his heart sink. Guys who were hitting on you probably didn’t make you by a ticket to see their band play. They’d put you on the guest list - or at least that’s what always happened in the movies. Still, Tom asked Brendon specifically to come. And, okay, now that he was looking, he could see the flyers up around the store, but that didn’t mean anything. Of course Tom wanted people to go to the show, but it wasn’t like he was personally handing out flyers to everyone. It’s not like he asked anyone else to stop in just so that he could hand them flyers and invite them to see his band play.
“Sure, I have two friends. I mean, I have more than two friends, but. Two friends that might be able to come with me. To your show - your band’s show. Empires’ show.” Brendon shut his mouth before his babbling reached epic proportions.
“Awesome!” Tom said. “So what can I get you?”
“Venti hot chocolate, please,” Brendon said.
“That’s $4.86,” Tom said, handed Brendon change when he forked over a five dollar bill, and then set about making the drink.
“Oh my god,” Brendon whispered to himself when Tom was out of earshot.
A voice came from beside him. “Are you gonna go?”
Brendon jerked around to see another employee that he recognized from his frequent visits. “What?” he asked.
“To the concert?” His nametag said Jon, and Brendon was pretty sure he was the Jon that lived with Tom.
“Yes,” Brendon said, a bit too emphatically. “I mean, yeah, of course I am.” He rolled his eyes at himself. “He just…He’s just so…”
Jon smirked. “So that’s how it is, huh? Should have guessed. Tommy makes all the boys crazy.”
“Yeah,” Brendon sighed, looking over at where Tom was still busy making his drink.
“He and I live together,” Jon said, and Brendon snapped his attention back to him.
“Oh?” he asked, pretending to be surprised by that news.
“It’s a townhouse and there’s four of us. Anyway, we’re having a party tonight. You could come by, if you wanted.”
Brendon dug his short fingernails into the palms of his hands to stop himself from doing some kind of embarrassing victory dance. “He’ll be there?”
Jon looked over Brendon’s shoulder at Tom. “Yeah, he will.”
*
Brendon stood in front of Tom’s door at ten thirty. His outfit had been Ryan-approved, though Brendon made a last minute executive decision to ditch the scarf and fedora. He ran his sweaty palms against his thighs and pressed the doorbell.
The door opened a minute later, and the music went from muffled to blaring out from inside the house.
The guy holding the door was tall with dark skin and the kind of beard that comes from not caring enough to shave every day. Brendon was instantly jealous. His own carefully orchestrated attempts at not shaving made his face look like it was covered with the stuff that grew on top of his spaghetti when he left it sitting out for a week.
“Well, get in, man.”
“Oh, sorry,” Brendon said, stepping forward into the house. There were people milling around everywhere, holding red plastic cups and dancing to some song Brendon had never heard.
The guy held up another red cup and a Sharpie and waved them both at Brendon. “What’s your name?”
“Hmm? Oh, Brendon.”
“Alfred,” the guy replied, before sloppily and incorrectly copying Brendon’s name onto the cup, giving him two e’s instead of one. He handed the cup to him with a curious look. “You’re Brendon, huh?”
Brendon clutched the cup to his chest and tried not to die. Had Tom mentioned him to his other hot friends?
“Well, it’s my secret identity,” Brendon answered.
“Sure,” Alfred said. “Beer and liquor are in the kitchen. If you want to smoke up, go on the back porch, straight past the bathroom. Chips are…somewhere. They’re Cool Ranch Doritos so it’s every man for himself, but your best bet is with Sean.” He nodded his head toward someone on the couch, hugging something that looked suspiciously like a bag.
“Thanks,” Brendon said. “I’ll just get some beer.”
“Whatever,” Alfred said, already turning away from Brendon and towards a pretty girl in a slinky black dress. “Nice meeting you.”
“Yeah, you too,” Brendon said, heading for the kitchen and keeping an eye out for Tom or Jon.
There was a keg in the corner and few people gathered around, filling their cups. Brendon made a beeline for it and got in line. He was feeling jittery and figured getting alcohol immediately to calm his nerves would be the best idea.
“Mmm…Miller Lite,” said the guy in front of him, waving the nozzle at Brendon enticingly. “The best beer a food service engineer can buy.”
“Food service engineer?” Brendon asked, handing over his cup.
“Bartender,” the guy answered with a grin. “Here, let me show you my skills.” He tilted the cup and poured, ending with only a thin layer of foam on the top. “Look at that.”
“Impressive,” Brendon admitted, taking a sip.
“Thanks, uh…” the guy looked down at the cup in Brendon’s hand and said, “Oh, hey, you’re…”
“Brendon!” An arm wrapped around Brendon’s shoulders and he turned to see Jon smiling at him, eyes a little glazed and hair a little rumpled. “You came!”
“I did,” Brendon said, waggling his eyebrows in a mysterious manner. “Or did I?”
Jon blinked at him. “Dude, don’t confuse me, I just came in from the back porch. You met Ryan?”
“I met Alfred?” Brendon tried.
“I’m Ryan,” said the guy who poured Brendon’s drink. “Hi.”
“Oh, hey. Then yes, I met Ryan.”
“Cool, cool. Ryan, Brendon. Ryan’s the drummer for Empires.”
“Oh really?” Brendon asked, turning to him. “I’m probably going to see you guys play next week.”
“Bring your friends,” Ryan said, smiling and taking a sip of his drink.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people,” Jon said. “I’m fucking hungry, man. Have you seen the Doritos anywhere?”
“Um, I think Alfred said Sean had them?” Brendon said. What was it with the Doritos?
“Then that’s where we’re going first. That bastard didn’t even buy them this time.” Jon tugged him along out of the kitchen. “Sean!”
They made their way through the hallway that led to the living room when something soft brushed against Brendon’s foot. He jumped back instinctively, and then looked down to see a gray cat rubbing its back against the wall and staring up at Brendon.
Crouching down, he put out his hand and crooned softly, barely audible over the loud music. The cat inched its head under Brendon’s palm to be petted.
“Hello,” Brendon said. “Sorry I jumped before, I thought you were a giant spider.”
The cat responded by licking its muzzle and shutting its eyes.
“That’s Dylan.”
Brendon looked up to see Jon smiling down at him, his arms folded across his chest.
“Is he yours?” Brendon asked.
“Yeah,” Jon said. “And I have another one named Clover.”
“Cute,” Brendon said.
“Jon, have you seen Sean?”
Brendon almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to get up when Tom came out of one of the closed doors along the hallway.
“Hey, Tom,” Brendon said, brushing the cat hair off of his t-shirt self-consciously.
“Hey,” Tom said, grinning. He held a cigarette that he took a long drag of, before exhaling and saying, “Jon told me he invited you.”
“Yeah. Yeah, hey,” Brendon said, and then hastily added, “What’s up?”
Tom shrugged. “The usual. You?”
“The same, you know. The usual.”
“Cool,” Tom said. He used the hand not holding the cigarette to push the hair out of his eyes and Brendon felt his face heat. He was so hot, oh god.
“Why do you want Sean?” Jon asked, pulling Tom’s attention back to him.
“Because he’s a fucking thief, and he’s going to pay with his life,” Tom promised.
“Is this about the Doritos?” Brendon asked and Tom frowned.
“No, what? Wait, did that asshole eat the last bag? He didn’t even buy them this time!”
“That’s what I said,” Jon chimed in.
“Is that him?” Brendon asked, gesturing to the guy who Alfred pointed out to him earlier.
“Van Vleet!” Tom shouted, taking off at a run.
“Oh, shit!” the guy - who was Sean, apparently - yelled. He spun around and started pushing people out of the way in order to escape.
“See you,” Brendon said weakly at Tom’s quickly retreating form.
Jon snorted next to him, and Brendon turned to glare at him. “Shut up.”
“You’re really bad at this,” Jon told him, making Brendon sigh.
“Yeah, I know. If he was a girl, there wouldn’t be any problem.”
“Bi?” Jon asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
“No, I’m pretty sure I’m gay,” Brendon mused. “My parents are really religious, and I didn’t actually figure it all out until I got to college.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “In fact, November twentieth will be my one year gay-iversary.”
Jon cracked up, nudging his shoulder against Brendon’s. “Gay-iversary, really?”
“That’s what Ryan - my Ryan, not yours, obviously - calls it. I don’t know, I like it. I’m hoping that I get cake,” Brendon answered.
“Well, of course. It wouldn’t be a gay-iversary without delicious baked goods,” Jon agreed.
“That’s what I’m saying,” Brendon replied triumphantly. “I’m glad you understand me, Jon.”
“Let’s go, I’ll introduce you to Clover.”
In the living room, near the front door, Tom had Sean on the floor in a headlock and was rubbing his knuckles over Sean’s head in a vigorous noogie while the crowd around them laughed and hollered.
“I said I was sorry!” Sean was yelling as he batted at Tom’s hands. Brendon watched them wistfully for a moment longer before following Jon upstairs.
*
Brendon had the worst friends ever. They thought it was more important to go to some stupid poetry reading instead of with Brendon to Tom’s concert. So he was stuck taking the Red Line to the Blue Line then the Blue Line to Damen, buying his ticket and walking inside the Subterranean alone.
Luckily, he saw Ryan, the drummer, almost immediately and made his way through the decent-sized crowd to get to him.
“Hey,” he said once he arrived.
“Oh, hey, Brendon, right?” Ryan asked.
“Yeah, Ryan?” Brendon asked back, because it seemed like the thing to do.
“Yeah, good to see you again. Where’re your friends?”
“Maya Angelou is here giving a speech and then doing a reading of her poetry, I guess?” Brendon answered with an apologetic shrug. “They bought tickets weeks ago. Or, actually, my one friend bought both tickets and is dragging his boyfriend, my other friend, along with him”
“English major?” Ryan asked and Brendon laughed.
“Double major in English and Creative Writing,” he corrected.
“We didn’t stand a chance,” Ryan said. He looked over Brendon shoulder and called, “Tom, Jonny, look who I found!”
Brendon whirled around to see the two guys each carrying a box and walking towards them.
“Hey, Brendon,” Tom said.
“Hey, do you need help?” Brendon asked, stepping up to grab the end of the box.
“Sure, thanks. It’s just t-shirts and stuff, but they’re heavy. We’re going to the merch booth right behind you.”
Together, they made shuffle-stepped to the booth, holding the box by the bottom. Every few steps, Tom’s right thumb would brush against Brendon’s left and send a little spark of pleasure through him. They put the box on the table and a pudgy kid with curly dark hair transferred it next to the four or so other boxes against the wall behind the booth.
“A little help,” Jon said from behind them, and Brendon helped him ease his box on the table too. “Thanks,” he said, smiling at Brendon.
“You’re welcome. So, hey, hi,” Brendon said.
“Hi,” Jon returned, bouncing on his toes.
“That’s all of it, Max,” Tom said, indicating the stack of boxes.
“Good,” Max said, and then turned to Brendon. “Thanks for the help, random guy.”
“No problem,” Brendon said.
“Brendon, Max. Max, Brendon,” Tom introduced flippantly. “He was at the party last week.”
Brendon leaned over the table to shake the guy’s hand. “Are you in Tom’s band too?”
Max scoffed. “Tom’s in my band.”
Before Brendon had time to feel embarrassed, Tom leaned in to whisper in his ear, loud enough for the others to hear, “We like to let him feel important sometimes. It’s better not to disagree with him.”
Brendon leaned up and whispered back, “I wouldn’t want to spoil his delusions.” His lips scraped against the stubble on Tom’s cheek. He wanted to taste it, but he pulled away instead, feeling shaky and turned on.
“We need to start setting up,” Max said, rolling his eyes. “So if you’re done making yourself feel better?”
“Max, you know it’s only out of love and concern for you,” Tom said. “Jon, you’re staying back here, right?”
“Yeah,” Jon said. “Brendon, wanna hang out while they get all their equipment set up?”
“Sure,” Brendon said gratefully, following Jon around the table.
“The cash goes in here,” Jon said, lifting a small, metal cash box and giving it a rattle. “Shirts and CDs are both ten bucks.”
“Seems easy enough,” Brendon said, just in time for a group of ten or so kids to come wandering up.
Half an hour later, the merch buyers were down to a few people trickling quickly in and out on their way to the stage.
“Do you do this for them a lot?” Brendon asked.
“Well, they’ve only had a couple of shows so far,” Jon answered. “I like helping out. And even if I didn’t, I live in a house with three of the five guys in the band. It’s kind of a requirement.”
“Sean and Ryan live there too, right?” Brendon asked. He remembered that from Tom’s Facebook.
“Yeah, and Max and Alfred might as well live with us, since they’re there so goddamn much anyway. What about you? Where do you live?”
“Dorms,” Brendon said, making a face. “The only good thing is that I managed to get a single this year. I worked like crazy over the summer with my dad’s roofing company to afford it, but it’s so worth it. My roommate last year was a total neat freak. I thought he was going to flip out when I accidentally left a wet towel on the floor.”
“That sucks,” Jon agreed, nodding.
“It more than sucked,” Brendon said. “I feared for my life, man. He was seriously scary. Like, he got this look, when I didn’t put the milk back on the right side of the mini-fridge or whatever, that said he was considering the best place to hide my body.” Brendon shuddered at the memory of Nathan’s cold, dead eyes tracking his every movement in their small dorm. “I ended up staying over with my friends, Ryan and Spencer, most nights. They have an apartment now that they signed the lease for all the way back in September of last year, so I couldn’t live with them.”
“Wait, they signed the lease last September to live in this year? That’s really early,” Jon said.
“Spencer’s a freak,” Brendon explained. “Anyway, I probably wouldn’t have wanted to live with them anyway. They’ve been dating since they were seven or something, and that would just be weird.”
“Walking in on them,” Jon supplied.
Brendon pulled a face. “Exactly. Even just hearing it would be enough. I’m okay with going the rest of my life never knowing that Ryan calls Spencer “Papa” or Spencer likes getting his toes sucked. There’s some things friends don’t need to know.”
“Agreed,” Jon said. Their conversation was paused a moment when a girl came up and bought a t-shirt. Once she walked away, Jon said, “It’s even harder with four of us. The house is pretty big, and we all have our own bedrooms, but it’s kind of unavoidable. A few weeks ago, Tom and I walked in on Sean getting blown by some chick right on the couch. I’ll never get that image out of my head, man. Tom had a fucking fit.”
“That’s what I mean,” Brendon said. “Some things you don’t need to know.”
“And now that I have that mental picture back in my brain, I need a drink to wash the pain away. Do you want anything?”
“Um…to be twenty-one?” Brendon said, holding up his hand to show off the black X across it.
“So young,” Jon sighed. “Soon you’ll be old and wise like me. Corona?”
“I guess,” Brendon said, and Jon darted away. He sold a couple more CDs while he waited for Jon to get back. The house lights dimmed and a cheer went up in the crowd as the opening band came out on stage.
Jon slipped back behind the table then with two beers. “Just put your hand in your pocket.”
“Thanks,” Brendon said. “So do you know this band?”
“Not really. I think they’re Max’s friends or something. Not bad though.”
Brendon shook his head. “No, not bad.”
They listened to a couple of songs, before Jon turned to him. “I’m gonna grab some stools.”
He returned a few minutes later with two stools. He handed one to Brendon and used one for himself.
“Thanks,” Brendon said. “Hey, so I like your shirt.”
Jon looked down at his Pink Floyd shirt and back up at Brendon with a grin. “I’m not a huge fan of their music, but I love doing the Dark Side of the Rainbow.”
Brendon frowned, confused. “What?”
“You don’t know what the Dark Side of the Rainbow is, are you serious?” Jon asked, sounding shocked. “It’s crazy. Look, okay, you play The Wizard of Oz on mute and “Dark Side of the Moon” at the same time and they synch up perfectly. It’s even trippier when you’re high. It’s like a whole other experience.”
“I want to try it!” Brendon said. “Wait, it actually, what, narrates it or something?”
“We’ll do it, man, me and you. Dark Side of the Rainbow, tomorrow. And it doesn’t narrate it exactly, but…you’ll have to see, okay. It’s nuts.”
“Sure, tomorrow,” Brendon promised. Then, at that moment, Empires took the stage and Brendon forgot about everything else for the next hour in the face of Tom Conrad, sweaty and intense, playing his guitar like his life depended on it.
*
“This is…” Brendon said. “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!”
On the television, Dorothy and Toto were making their way down the yellow brick road with Pink Floyd a perfect accompaniment on their journey.
“Right?” Jon asked. He put his bong down on the coffee table and looked at Brendon with serious eyes. “It’s incredible, right?”
“It is!” Brendon answered. Dorothy was facing off against the Wicked Witch of the West and Brendon blinked a few times, sluggishly. “I am so glad I never have to meet the Wicked Witch.”
“Flying monkeys,” Jon said, giving himself a little shake.
Brendon shifted so that he was on his knees and then crawled closer to Jon, one precarious lurch at a time. “Jon, this is important. Are you listening?”
“Yes,” Jon said.
Brendon framed Jon’s face with his hands and said, “You need to convince Tom’s band to do something like this to - I don’t know - Mary Poppins or something.”
Jon was quiet a moment and then smirked at Brendon. “Mary Poppins?” he asked.
“Or something, I said. Some other classic movie from our childhoods,” Brendon clarified.
“Aladdin,” Jon said and Brendon whooped. He almost sent himself careening off the couch, but Jon caught him around the waist at the last minute.
“You’re a genius; that is perfect,” Brendon declared.
Part Two