The Simplest Terms, The Most Convenient Definitions (2/3)

[ink_like_blood]

"Hi, Mrs. McCracken, is Bert there?" Brendon twists the phone cord around his fingers and watches the birds in his mom's feeder outside.

"Oh, honey, I thought he was at your house!" she says, and Brendon blinks at the phone.

"No, he's...," he stalls, because if Bert isn't at Brendon's then Bert could be in serious trouble with his mom. "He left a little bit ago, but he said he needed to grab some stuff from school. He's probably on his way," Brendon lies. "It's no big deal, I'll see him tomorrow," he finishes hastily and hangs up. His chest is heaving a little, and he heads to his room, closing the door a little too loudly behind him.

*

There are only a handful of things Brendon knows about Quinn Allman:

1. He hangs out in auto shop during lunch every day, and seems to be friends with Dan Whitesides. (This isn't the red flag it used to be, Brendon is willing to admit, but it's not a mark in his favor, either.)

2. He wears his leather jacket everywhere, and smokes in the boys lav, yet seems to avoid detention. (This, Brendon thinks, is patently unfair.)

3. He's attractive, and he knows it.

4. He seems to be using Bert as some sort of one-man taxi service, and Bert doesn't seem to care.

Brendon catches Bert in homeroom the next day. "Where were you yesterday?" he asks quietly, and Bert looks down at his fingernails.

"Went for a drive," he says, and Brendon knows he didn't go alone, but he doesn't say anything. Truth be told, he doesn't know what to say. He watches Bert watch Quinn all day, in English class, in the hallways, through the window during practice. It's scary in a way that Brendon can't put his finger on, like he's losing Bert to something he doesn't quite understand, to this grease monkey who showed up with a bad reputation.

The scarier part is that Quinn watches Bert too, when he thinks no one is looking, and his small smile speaks volumes more than Brendon wants to know.

*

"Hey," Quinn says when Bert sits down in chem. Bert's stomach butterflies are in full effect, but he still smiles.

"Hey." They have a lab practical today, so they can't really talk since Mr. Abbott is walking around the room taking notes (and, also, Bert really needs to do well in this class). But Bert accidentally elbows Quinn in the side at one point and they giggle loud enough that Mr. Abbott clears his throat and stares at them.

"Sorry," Bert says, but he can't wipe the grin off his face. The back of Quinn's hand brushes Bert's hip more than once, and Bert finally thinks that it's probably not an accident, and grins wider.

"So, what are you doing this weekend?" Quinn finally says at the end of class, quiet enough that no one can hear. Bert just shrugs-- ever since he gave up gymnastics, he doesn't do much most weekends other than hang out with Brendon. "You want to come up to Jeph's with me?"

"Party?" Bert whispers and Quinn shakes his head.

"Just a Jeph and Brand, maybe a few people. Small."

"Yeah, okay." Bert doesn't think he's imagining Quinn's small exhale, like he's relieved Bert said yes. Bert just bumps him with his hip. "You need me to pick you up?"

"Sure," Quinn smiles.

"Gentlemen?" Mr. Abbott says from the front of the room, and Bert and Quinn get hastily back to work.

Bert tells his parents he's going for a hike-- the weather has stayed unseasonably warm-- and they tell him to make sure to bring his jacket, and his mom packs him a sandwich. He feels bad lying, but he knows they wouldn't like Quinn too much. There still aren't any details about why Quinn is living here and not with his parents, and people in town have been filling in the gaps with idle gossip. So far, Bert has heard that Quinn beat a kid up at school, got caught smoking grass in the teacher's lounge, ran his car into a dime store, and got a girl knocked up. To be fair, all but that last one seem pretty plausible.

Bert picks Quinn up a little after noon and they are up at Jepha's soon after. The only other people there are Dan and Bob Bryar, who is pounding away on a drum kit when Bert and Quinn walk in. "Tell me you brought beer!" Dan cries and Quinn laughs.

"No, but Bert's mom packed some ham salad."

Bert flushes, embarrassed, but Branden just says "Oh, man, hand that over." Bert does, mostly because Branden is kind of scary, and watches as he eats half of it in three bites. Jepha comes out of the kitchen and hits him lightly in the back of the head.

"Don't steal the kid's food," he says and Branden looks up with guilty eyes. "I'm cooking in there!"

"Buh he gabe ih tho me," he says, mouth still full, then swallows. "You can't beat a mom sandwich."

Jepha just shakes his head, grinning. "Please don't mind the human garbage disposal," he says and pulls Quinn and then Bert in for actual hugs. Bert can't remember the last time he got a hug from someone that wasn't his mom, and he maybe holds on a second too long, but Jepha just gives him an extra squeeze and mumbles "Glad you came" into Bert's hair.

It turns out that Saturdays at Jepha's are pretty relaxed. Jepha overcooks the chicken casserole, but they devour a pot of spaghetti, and Jepha looks pleased with himself. Bert spends the first part of the afternoon trying to avoid both Dan (since Brendon is kind of right about how awful the fifth grade was) and Quinn (since Bert doesn't trust his own hands), but by the time lunch is over and they all settle in to watch a game on TV, he's pretty much decided that Dan is a cool guy. He can do all the voices from Howdy Doody, and he makes Quinn laugh a lot. Quinn grabs the seat on the floor next to Bert and presses up closer than he has to, resting his head on Bert's shoulder during commercial breaks and claiming he's tired, even though Bert can feel how fast his heart is beating. Bert's never been a big sports fan, so he watches the guys more than the game. Bob and Branden are on the floor in front of the worn brown sofa. Dan is on the sofa, his feet in Jepha's lap. Jepha's massaging a spot in Branden's shoulder while he yells insults at the umpire on the screen. He winces every now and then and Jepha stops until Branden turns around and sighs at him, and Jepha's hands are right back, his hands sure and easy, like he does this every day. Bert notices that Dan is watching Jepha as much as he's watching the screen, and he wonders about it for a second until Quinn's head is back on his shoulder, his hair tickling Bert's chin. "Watch it," he giggles and Quinn just pokes him in the thigh a few times and tilts his head back. "You're the boniest pillow ever," he grouses, but his smile is blinding and Bert has to stop himself from leaning down to kiss it.

They haven't talked about it, the kiss by the lake, but Bert thinks it's going to happen again-- pretty soon, judging by the way Quinn's knuckles skim the outside of Bert's thigh. He catches Bob watching them, and he can feel the heat in his cheeks-- a little shame, a little fear-- but Bob just shakes his head and lets out a long suffering sigh and turns back to the game. Bert lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

They drag Bert back to the practice room when Dan lets it slip that Bert can sing ("Why didn't you tell me?" Quinn grins and Bert just shakes his head. "It's mostly Pat Boone songs!" he protests). Jepha wants to hear him, so they all butcher their way through "Jailhouse Rock", laughing when Dan does his terrible Elvis impersonation. "This is too fast!" Quinn yells as they play, so Jepha starts playing "Fever" and Quinn follows along, with Bob picking out a part on drums in the corner. Bert hums until they've got it, then starts singing quietly, "when you put your arms around me, I get a fever that just can't compare." He doesn't notice Quinn watching him until the second verse, and he ducks his head. "Come on, that was good!" Branden laughs and Bert groans. "All right, fine, new song," Jepha says, and Bert mouths,"Thank you" when he switches over to something Bert's never heard, a folk tune about the Great Depression.

*

They stay until it's starting to get dark; Bert has to get back before his parents worry. Bob offers to give Quinn a ride later, but he grabs his coat with Bert's and they head out together. The streets are quiet, and Quinn doesn't talk much until they pass a nearly empty parking lot. "Pull in here," he says tightly, and Bert can feel every blood vessel in his body waking up, the heat under his skin as he parks the car under the shade of some trees at the far side. It's dusk, but Bert still glances out the window as Quinn slides across the seat. "Hey," he says quietly, and Bert blinks at him. Quinn licks his lips and Bert can see that his eyes are green again, where they're not all pupil already, but Bert can't move, can't say anything. "You. We don't have to--" Quinn says, a little unsure, and Bert says "No! I mean, yeah," quick enough to shut him up, and then Quinn's leaning in and Bert's meeting him halfway.

It's not like the last time, but Bert guesses first kisses are always their own kind of thing. This one is slow and deliberate, Quinn inching closer, Bert turning until his knee overlaps with Quinn's thigh; Quinn makes a pleased sound. Quinn's got his hand on Bert's waist, his thumb making tiny movements against his side, and Bert doesn't know how long they've been there, and he doesn't much care, as long as Quinn keeps touching him. Quinn opens his mouth a little and lets his tongue slip against Bert's lips. Bert doesn't even think before he tries to reciprocate, but Quinn's tongue is still there, hot and slick, and when they slide against each other, Quinn groans and Bert gasps and jolts forward, his fingers in Quinn's hair, holding him in place as Bert tries not to pass out. He's dizzy, he's dizzy and he's so hard and when Quinn slips his fingers under the waist of Bert's t-shirt and whispers "Off" Bert just wants this, more than he's ever wanted anything ever, and he pulls back enough to shrug out of his jacket and pull his shirt over his head. "You too?" he asks, because Quinn isn't moving, he's just staring, and Bert wants to taste his smile again, his neck, that jut of his hipbone. "Yeah, yeah okay," Quinn finally says, his voice rough and ragged, and a second later he's shirtless too, pulling Bert close and sliding his palm flat over Bert's ribcage, making him shiver. They're close, but it's awkward, both of them turned sideways on the seat, the steering wheel pressing into Bert's side, and all he wants is to touch as much of Quinn as he can, skin to skin. "We could," he pants as Quinn leans down to kiss his jaw, his shoulder. "Backseat?" he manages, and Quinn shivers. "You sure?" he asks, and Bert nods. Neither of them are smiling, but that's okay. It's a precious moment, something for forever, and he's glad Quinn seems to think so too.

Bert climbs back first, easy after years of practice. He thinks for a second before he turns and lays down across the back seat. "Fuck, Bert," Quinn says, watching from the front, and Bert just smiles and puts out his hand to help Quinn over. He manages to fold up so that he's kneeling between Bert's knees; looking down he can see that Bert is hard, can see the flush across his torso, but Bert doesn't feel ashamed at all. Quinn's skin is flushed too, his chest rising in hard, quick pants. Bert arches his back, lets his legs fall open, one foot propped on the window behind Quinn, and Quinn says "fuck" again, real quiet, and leans down to kiss along Bert's stomach, his mouth tracing from his belly button up his ribs to his chest. Bert's breathing like he just ran a marathon and his hands wander restlessly over Quinn's back and shoulders, into his hair. "Wanted you so bad," Quinn says as his lips brush Bert's neck and Bert turns his head to kiss him hard, thinking Yes, me too, just this as Quinn's hips press down into his and they both moan.

This is... it's almost too much, the press of Quinn's bare chest against his, the friction of his dick against denim as they rock into each other, the wet heat of Quinn's mouth on his jaw. It's cool outside, but Bert is sweating against the seat, his back sticking a little. Quinn's elbow is propped next to Bert's head on the seat, and Bert's calf hooks over his thigh to press them closer, more. Quinn slides his other hand down Bert's side to the waist of his jeans and presses against the skin there, dipping his fingers under. Bert's hips jerk so hard that they both freeze. "Bert?" Quinn says, his eyes searching Bert's face. Bert tips his head back until he can see the sky, the moon already visible out the window. "Please," he says, his voice reed thin, and Quinn takes a deep breath before he leans back a little more. His fingers are shaking enough that it takes him three tries to pop open the button of Bert's jeans with one hand, and the slide of the zipper over his dick is agonizingly slow. Bert glances down to see Quinn watching too, each second stretched out until he traces his thumb over the hard outline of Bert's dick through his cotton briefs and Bert makes a choked, needy sound.

"Oh, God," Quinn says, quiet and almost pained. He traces the head of Bert's dick where the dampness has already seeped through the cotton. Bert's shaking a little, trying to keep his hips still, not knowing what Quinn wants to do, but pretty okay with whatever, as long as Quinn keeps touching him. "Can I... I want," Quinn starts, and Bert just reaches down and shimmies a little until his clothes are around his thighs, his dick hard against his stomach. He doesn't feel wrong, but he feels... exposed, a little, and tugs at Quinn's belt. "You, come on," he says, because he wants Quinn with him, wants to touch Quinn possibly more than he wants Quinn to touch him. Quinn doesn't help him, but he lets Bert undo his belt, lets him tug his jeans open and peel them down until Quinn's dick pops free. Bert wraps his fingers around it and gives a quick tug and Quinn drops his head to Bert's shoulder with a "Oh God, oh fuck, yes" and Bert finally grins.

Quinn's hips push into the circle of Bert's fist once, twice, before he props himself back up and reaches between them to pull Bert's hand away. "Hey, what--" Bert starts, but Quinn's long fingers are wrapping around Bert's dick, cool on hot skin, and Bert bucks into the touch. "Hold on, let me try..." Quinn says with a far off look in his eyes as he lines them up, Bert's dick against Quinn's and wraps his fingers around them both. "Oh, oh oh," Bert manages and Quinn exhales sharply through his nose as he strokes them together. It feels so good Bert thinks he might actually float away if Quinn's solid weight weren't on top of him. He tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of Quinn's neck and tries to kiss him, but Quinn pulls away after a second, closes his eyes like he needs to focus. Bert just lets his hands drift everywhere they can find purchase, kisses the freckles along Quinn's pale shoulder. He can feel the pool of heat and pressure in his belly, in his balls. He's so close, his hips pushing up into Quinn's fist harder and harder until Quinn stops trying for both and just jerks Bert off in quick, hard strokes. "Quinn, Quinn, oh, God, o-oh, fuck," he rambles, his cheek pressed into the quivering muscles in Quinn's arm. "Yeah, come on," Quinn murmurs, and Bert can't hold it back any more, shaking apart, his toes curling against the window. He gasps for air as he tries to come down, and Quinn presses their foreheads together. "So gorgeous, so fucking hot," he whispers, and Bert whimpers.

Quinn shifts restlessly, still hard, and his dick slips for a second through the warm mess along Bert's groin and into the space between his thighs. It's weird, but in a good way, with Quinn's dick pressing against his still-sensitive balls, against a spot just behind them that's making Bert's spine tingle. Bert squeezes his legs together, just to see, and Quinn goes still above him. "You can," Bert says breathlessly, "if you want to." Quinn groans and lets his hips thrust down a few times, slow until Bert's arms wrap around his waist and encourage him on. It's almost too soon-- Bert's dick is still half hard between them-- but Quinn's hips speed up until he's pistoning above him, muttering curses against Bert's temple. "I'm gonna," he warns, and Bert puts his hands on Quinn's ass and pushes up to meet him. Quinn's whole body contracts violently, and Bert can feel wetness between his thighs, slipping down into the crack of his ass. It's gross, a little, but Bert's never really minded gross, and he lets Quinn collapse on him until he can move again.

"You okay?" Bert finally asks when Quinn blinks his eyes open. Quinn turns his face into Bert's shoulder, says "Fucking hell, McCracken" with a slightly shaky laugh, and Bert giggles. Quinn leans in to kiss him slowly before sitting back on his knees with a groan. "Well, this is..." he starts, and Bert laughs at his expression.

"Yeah, I know. Hand me my shirt?" he asks, and Quinn leans over the front seat to get it. Bert wipes himself down as much as he can before pulling his jeans back up, and Quinn does the same, both of them balling up their shirts and stuffing them in a pocket.

"You're gonna be late," Quinn says to him when they finally crawl back over the seats and Bert turns on the car.

Bert shrugs. He can't stop smiling and Quinn leans over to kiss his shoulder, then his ear. "You're amazing," he whispers and Bert reaches out to hold his hand for the whole drive home.

*

Brendon knows. Even before Bert grabs him after Temple on Sunday and pulls him across the street to the playground, he knows something happened with Quinn by the way the Quinn watched him all through service, the way Bert's knee bounced with energy, his cheeks high with color. They've had a lot of important conversations in this playground, Brendon sitting next to Bert on this swing set. They're not too big for them, they probably won't ever be, and Brendon lets the creak of the thick iron chains settle around him as they sit. Bert knocks their knees together a few times and Brendon's stomach aches from being tied in knots all morning.

"So," Bert finally starts, and Brendon doesn't want to hear it, suddenly. He doesn't want to know.

"Man, the service was boring today, huh?" he tries, and Bert huffs at him.

"Bren--"

"Did you see Mrs. Foster nodding off in the back? It was hysterical." He kicks his legs and lets the swing pull him forward and back a little, so he won't feel Bert's eyes boring into him.

"Brendon," Bert says, and he sounds almost pained, but Brendon can't... and it's not just that it's evil and wrong, not just that Bert could go to Hell for looking at Quinn like that, for letting Quinn... touch him. There's a bright, irrational pain in the center of Brendon's chest, and when Bert says "Come on, I know you know" it flares up hot enough that Brendon has to push out of the swing and take a few steps to make sure he won't punch Bert in the face.

"I know he's not good enough for you," he spits out, because that's true enough. Bert has all the potential in the world, if he just sticks with Brendon, just follows the plan. "I know he's using you," he says, even though he knows he's lying, knows that Quinn watches him with this blind adoration that Brendon is sure is going to get them in serious trouble.

"You don't know him," Bert says quietly, his eyes pleading. Brendon stuffs his hands in his pockets and scuffs his shoes in the dusty ground. "You're not... You won't tell anyone," Bert sounds uncertain, a little scared, and for one horrible second Brendon considers it. Considers telling Bert's parents what he's been up to with this boy, this asshole. But they both know he won't. Brendon and Bert have each other's backs, no matter what, and if Bert wants to ruin his future, Brendon's not going to help him along.

"I won't tell," he grits out, but he turns on his heels and leaves before Bert can say anything else.

*

By the end of April, Bert is spending most of his free time with Quinn, making out in the car after school, grabbing food from the diner to eat at the park, taking him on short hikes when the weather gets warmer. His parents still haven't met Quinn, and Quinn isn't allowed to bring anyone home to his aunt's, but that's okay. They have a hard time not touching each other when they're too close (chemistry is suddenly Bert's favorite and least favorite class of the day), so they don't spend a lot of time with other people, save at Jepha's. Quinn and Dan change the oil on Bert's car, their feet sticking out from underneath as he and Jepha sip iced tea and make useless comments. He watches more major league baseball games than he's watched in his entire life. He learns new songs as Quinn and Jepha play, and hears all the gossip from the mill from Branden over dinner, and learns that Dan's knees are screwed up enough that he won't be able to take a football scholarship next year. "It's okay," Dan shrugs over a plate of cheesy macaroni hot dogs (Jepha is working his way through the Betty Crocker cookbook), "I wasn't going to make pro anyway. I'll make a lot more money going straight to a shop after school." His uncle works in the car industry and knows some people who might be able to get Dan a job in California, and Quinn too. After a few weeks, he figures out that Jepha and Branden aren't actually together, not like he and Quinn, and it's so startling that he spends half a day watching them until Branden says "Hey, kid, stop being creepy" with a laugh. Bert blushes and ducks behind his hair.

He discovers all sorts of little things about Quinn, too-- that he loves cartoons, and can't do a handstand, no matter how many times Bert tries to show him. His dad sold his car when he left Salt Lake, to pay for Quinn's "moving expenses", but mostly, Bert thinks, as punishment. Quinn had been getting into trouble at home-- coming home drunk, or smelling like smoke, staying out all night with some beat poets he'd met at a coffee shop. ("They were kind of like Jepha, only more about chaos and less about cooking," he'd explained with a laugh.) When they had a blowup at Christmas because Quinn refused to go to Temple, his mom intervened and they sent him to Orem, where there was "less temptation". He's not supposed to talk to them, since he's a "bad influence", but Quinn has a weekly phone call with his mom and his sisters, every Saturday morning when his dad is off at a Temple meeting.

Bert and Quinn make up stupid songs in Jepha's backyard, about teachers and cheerleaders, and talking dogs. Quinn hates school, but he and Jepha are big into John Kennedy. ("You just think he's cute," Bert teases and Quinn elbows him. "He could really change things," he says, but he never takes his eyes off the screen.) They learn other things, together, and the first time Quinn presses one spit-slick finger inside of him, Bert shakes apart so hard that he sees stars and Quinn's smile is full-moon bright.

*

Bert's happy-- almost stupidly so-- but he misses Brendon. They talk still, about class and the quartet, small things that don't mean anything at all. Bert wants to talk to Brendon about Quinn, about how Quinn makes him happy and scared all at once, about how he worries that Quinn will forget about him when Bert goes to college next year, about sex and how awesome it is. Especially about sex. Because Bert kind of wants to be naked with Quinn all the time now, to pull him into the boys lav at lunch and drop to his knees and blow him until Quinn makes that unmistakable breathy whimper that says he's close...

He won't do that, though, and he won't bring up sex to Brendon, mostly because Brendon won't talk about Quinn at all.

"Bert," his mom yells to him as he comes in on a Friday. His youngest sister scampers past still in her ballet flats, and Bert hopes that he'll be able to weasel out of dinner since Quinn had to work on a car with Dan after school and Bert hasn't kissed him in nearly twenty-four hours. They're due at a party at Jepha's by eight, and he's already planning to tell his mom he's staying over at Brendon's. "There's a letter for you on the dining table," she calls, and Bert can hear the false calm in her voice, the same tone she gets when one of his sisters gets the lead in the school play.

It's more than a letter, actually; it's a small packet of information about University of the Pacific, with an acceptance letter tucked into the fold. Bert's heart stops for a second before he's off like a shot, the letter still clutched in his hand. His mom is waiting at the door to give him a big hug, and says "just be home by midnight" as he races out and down the street.

Brendon lives six blocks away and Bert runs the whole way-- UoP is their first choice, and Brendon's been crossing his fingers about the music conservatory all year. They applied for lots of schools in the same towns, but UoP is the only one they applied to together, and it's California. "Bren!" He pounds on the door until Mrs. Urie opens it with a small frown.

"Bert," she sighs. "It's been a while."

"Sorry," he says, still panting a little. "Is he here?"

She tips her head toward the stairs and Bert takes them two at a time. Brendon is sitting on his bed with his history textbook open on his knees. Bert leaps on the bed and Brendon looks up at him with a start. "Bert, what--" he says and Bert just drops the crumpled paper in his lap.

"University of the Pacific, Bren," he says and Brendon blinks at it. "Did yours come?"

He looks up at Bert with wide eyes. "Mooooom!" he yells, and they are both down the stairs like a shot, feet clattering in the hall before they come to a stop in the kitchen.

"Boys," she says, long-suffering, and Brendon smiles brightly but his eyes are slightly wild.

"Where's the mail?" he asks, and she furrows her brow.

"On your father's desk," she says, "But--"

Brendon's dad doesn't like anyone to go through the mail before he gets to it-- it's a rule that the McCrackens couldn't follow in a household of nine, but Brendon's the youngest child by a lot and his house has always been more strict, quieter. Brendon doesn't even hesitate, though. He goes straight to his father's office and barely has to shuffle through the mail before he sees the wide, thick packet with the UoP seal on it. "Oh my God," he says, holding it in shaky fingers, and Bert whoops with laughter and hugs him tight enough to pick him up off the ground and swing him around once.

"We did it," Brendon says, his arms wrapping tight around Bert's neck. Bert tucks his face into Brendon's neck and grins. "We've got to celebrate," Brendon says, pulling away and tearing into the envelope. It's the same small packet, the same letter that says 'Welcome to the Class of '64'. "Tonight, you and me, milkshakes and a movie." He's grinning and Bert almost says yes before he remembers.

"There's... I'm going to a party at Jepha's," he says, and his heart starts beating faster as he watches Brendon's face fall. "It's this weird May Day thing," he says quickly. "You should come, it'll be fun!"

Brendon swallows and tucks the letter back in the packet. "No, I don't want to be in the way--"

"Please," Bert says, and takes Brendon's hand. "Come on, we're going to Uo fucking P." Brendon flushes and he barks out a laugh, glancing nervously back at the kitchen to make sure his mom didn't overhear.

"Yeah," he says, looking down at their hands. "Yeah, okay."

*

"Hey!" Quinn grins wide when Bert pulls into Jepha's driveway, but his smile fades quickly when Brendon climbs out of the passenger seat. "Hi, Urie," he says with a nod, and Bert looks between them and bites at his lip.

"Hi," Brendon manages, mostly because he doesn't want to start anything here, on Quinn's turf. "Bert's got news," he says, to deflect the attention away from himself, and when Quinn looks at him, Bert's smile is bright enough to light the whole block.

"We got into UoP!" he says, and does a dorky little dance in front of the car. "Me and Brendon, for the Fall! Isn't that great?"

Quinn is still and quiet for a second. "You and Brendon, huh?"

Bert's enthusiasm wanes a little. "It's California, Quinn. We're all going, now. It's official."

Brendon can see where Quinn's eyes cut to him, stormy and dark and jealous. Brendon thinks see, I had him first and almost smiles before Bert presses close to Quinn's side and murmurs low in his ear. Quinn's gaze drops and he laughs low, puts his hand on Bert's side and says "Yeah, okay, okay." Brendon can see where Bert's nose brushes Quinn's jaw when he pulls away and he looks quickly at the ground.

"Come on," Bert says and grabs for Brendon's hand, pulling him inside with Quinn right in front of them. It's loud in the house, hot and close and smoky, and Brendon gets that out-of-place feeling again, and he's mad at Bert for doing this to him, for turning their personal celebration into something that Brendon can't enjoy at all. He finds a corner of the room to sit in and Bert brings him a root beer and stays nearby, talking with people Brendon's never met-- people Bert's never met, and that's a surprise. Bert seems happy, grinning at Quinn across the room and eating chips and dip and chattering away. Brendon's never seen Bert this open with anyone who wasn't him, and it's amazing. Brendon almost feels proud, but then Quinn whispers low in Bert's ear and pulls him down a dark hallway, and Brendon is alone when some drunk girl in a low-cut dress bumps into him and spills some beer on his shirt. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Shit, sorry sweetheart!" she says, and laughs when he stands up and heads toward the bathroom. If he comes home smelling like beer, he's going to be in serious trouble. The bathroom is occupied, though, and there's a small line of people, and the smell of what Brendon is sure is grass is wafting from one of the bedrooms. Brendon ducks into the kitchen to try and grab a damp towel or something and immediately wishes the floor could swallow him whole.

Dan is there, his strong arms resting on the counter on either side of Jepha, and they're so close Brendon is sure they're about to kiss. "Dan," Jepha says quietly, his eyes wide. There's a flower tucked behind his ear. Brendon is fixed in place-- he's thought about it, even before Bert and Quinn, about what it would look like for two boys to kiss, but they weren't ever as big as Dan, as hard or as tough. Dan leans in, eyes closing, and Brendon's chest feels tight, his skin prickling with some strange energy. But Jepha makes a soft sound and turns his head so Dan kisses cheek, then puts his hands on Dan's shoulders to gently push him back. Dan opens his eyes, dark and flashing, and Brendon backs out of the doorway right before Dan comes barreling through it.

"Out of my way, Urie," he growls as Jepha calls after him from the kitchen.

"S-sorry," he says. He feels like the wind has been knocked out of him, a throbbing under his skin that he can't tramp down. Dan grabs his jacket from a chair and yanks the front door open. Bert and Quinn are still no where to be seen, and Brendon doesn't think about it before he's following. "Hey, Dan," he calls, and Dan doesn't slow down until Brendon is at his elbow. "You heading back?"

Dan nods, his jaw set in a tight line.

"Could I--" Brendon starts but Dan is tugging his keys out and pressing them into Brendon's palm.

"You drive," he says, and Brendon can smell beer on him, and something else too, something harder. Dan's face is pink and when they get in the car, he turns his head and rests it on the cool of the window.

Brendon knows where Dan lives-- it's only a few blocks from him-- so he just starts the car and pulls down the drive. It's a sports car, smaller and more powerful than Brendon is used to driving, and he takes the hills slowly, stealing glances at Dan. He looks tired, a little defeated, like he just lost the big game. "You okay?" he asks finally, when Dan hasn't said anything, and Dan just shrugs. "Sometimes life just kicks you in the balls, you know?" he says and Brendon's surprised laugh actually gets Dan to grin.

"Yeah, I know," Brendon says, and Dan snorts.

"No you don't," he says. It's not unkind, just matter-of-fact, and Brendon's fingers tighten on the steering wheel.

"What do you know about my life?" he mutters, and Dan looks back out the window.

"I know it's a lot easier to go for the things people think you should want, than the things you actually do," he replies, voice low and rough, and Brendon focuses his eyes on the road and not on the way the light flashes off Dan's skin as they pass under the streetlights. Dan, who was supposed to be as different from Brendon as night is to day. "But whatever," he sighs and closes his eyes. "I'm the jock, you're the genius, what the fuck do I know?"

*

Spring weather has been quick to come, and Bert is curled up in bed next to his open window reading a book of poems for his English class. His family took him out for a big celebration lunch after temple that morning (which is good because he could avoid Brendon for a while longer, after Brendon took off from the party. Bert hadn't even been gone that long!) and he keeps getting distracted from his reading by the packet of information from the University. It's not that Bert didn't think he was a smart enough guy, he just never let himself think about the 'after' of high school, not like Brendon does. Now, he's looking through their list of majors, undergraduate requirements, extracurricular activities, and thinking about living in the dorms, seeing Quinn every weekend, napping under palm trees...

The clatter is quiet enough that he almost doesn't hear it, but then a second small pebble comes right in the open window and lands with a thud on his floor. He peers out and Quinn is standing the half-shadows of his driveway. "C'mere," he hisses and Bert tiptoes down the stairs and out the back door. It's not too late for him to be out of bed, but it's late enough that his mom wouldn't want him leaving the house.

"This way," he whispers to Quinn around the corner, and walks in his bare feet through the grass to the shed where they keep all their spare junk. There's a spot behind it that's small and dark, hidden from the neighbors by a few trees. Quinn's hands are stuffed in his pockets as he rounds the corner and Bert grins at him. "Missed me all ready?" he says, but Quinn's expression is tense, stony.

"Would you go to California with me?" he asks, low and strained. Bert shakes his head in confusion.

"Of course, we're all going, right? This summer, we're--"

"No, now. Today. Would you go?" Quinn's eyes are red and Bert reaches out a hand to touch his arm, pull him closer, but Quinn shrugs him off.

"What the hell is going on, Quinn?" Bert asks. Quinn just curls in on himself more.

"It's a simple question, Bert. Yes, or no." He's angry about something, Bert can see it in the way his eyes flash, but Quinn won't give anything away.

He can't just quit school, not with college so close, with escape from Orem so close. "It's six weeks," he says, as soothing as he can, "six weeks, and you know I'll go with you. We'll go anywhere you want."

"Fine," Quinn says, and something in his voice is hard, bitter. "Can I borrow your car?"

"It's my dad's, Quinn, you know that," Bert says, and he runs his hands roughly though his hair. "Just talk to me--"

"Nevermind," Quinn says, and Bert doesn't imagine the small break in his voice. "I shouldn't have come here." He takes a few quick strides out from behind the safety of the shed and Bert grabs for his hand but Quinn shakes him off.

"Quinn, come on, " Bert pleads, and Quinn just takes off at a run.

*

Bert is late for class on Monday, and when Brendon looks up from his desk, he can see dark circles under his eyes. He has an uncharitable thought about slutty boys who stay up too late but then Brendon looks closer and Bert's eyes are red too, puffy from crying.

"He isn't here," Bert says dully when Brendon finally catches up with him at lunch. He pulls Bert into an empty classroom. "I don't know where he is, but he missed English, and he wasn't in shop just now." Bert sits down hard in a wooden chair and leans his elbows on his knees. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and takes a shuddery breath. "I should have just said yes."

"Yes to what?" Brendon asks, as gently as he can. He's not going to say 'I told you so', not when Bert is obviously in so much pain, but he wants to punch Quinn Allman in the face.

"He wanted to leave last night," Bert says, muffled by his own arms. "Just take off for California. I told him it was crazy," he says, eyes wide, and Brendon kneels in front of him.

"It was crazy. He can't just ask you to give up--"

"I would have, though. If I knew... I didn't think he'd really go," Bert says, and he's crying now, enough that his shoulder's shake when Brendon pulls him into a hug.

"Hey, we don't know what happened. Maybe he's just home sick," Brendon tries to reason, but he's sure Quinn's across the state line by now, if he really wanted to leave. "We'll get through the day, and then we'll go by his aunt's and see if he's there."

Bert snuffles into his shoulder and they stay there until the bell. He catches Brendon in the hall after sixth and whispers "I'm cutting last class, but I'll be back by practice." Brendon looks at him sharply. "Jepha'll know something," Bert says, and Brendon just sighs and hopes he doesn't get caught sneaking off school grounds.

He's waiting by the music room door for Bert when Quinn shows up. Brendon still wants to punch him in the face, but in the harsh light of reality, he also doesn't want to get his ass kicked. He crosses his arms.

"Is he here?" Quinn asks, and man, he looks even worse than Bert. His hair is sticking out at odd angles and he's got a grass stain on the knee of his jeans.

"He left early," Brendon says, and it's not a lie. Quinn's face falls. "What do you want?"

"Can you just... can you give him this?" he asks, and hands Brendon a wrinkled envelope, Bert's name written on it in Quinn's messy scrawl. "I'm on a bus from Provo tonight," he says. "I just. If he wants to say goodbye."

"Sure," Brendon says coolly, and he folds it in half and sticks it in his pocket. Quinn nods and starts to walk away. "You could have just said goodbye last night," he calls and Quinn turns and takes a few backward steps.

"Probably," he says with a bitter laugh. "But I'm kind of a sucker for his face."

Bert shows up fifteen minutes later, breathless and unsmiling. "They don't know either," he says with a tremor in his voice, "But Jeph's going to go to his aunt's and see what he can figure out." Brendon presses his fingers to the letter in his pocket and nods.

*

Rehearsal is a minor disaster; Bert can't concentrate on anything, and Brendon keeps avoiding his eyes. Patrick just throws his hands up at four o'clock and tells them he's going home. Mikey files out after him, and Bert and Brendon pack up in silence. He could be almost anywhere by now, Bert thinks, and all he can remember is Quinn's smile when Bert kissed him goodnight on Friday, the way his hand lingered on the small of Bert's back. They're in the parking lot when Bert hears the low rumble of Branden's Corvette. Jepha's out of the car even before it's rolled to a stop. "He got kicked out," Jepha says grimly and Bert can feel the whole world spin a little. Brendon takes his elbow. "We don't know much more, his aunt practically shut the door in Brand's face, but he hasn't been there since yesterday afternoon."

"She found out about us," Bert says, horrified, because that's the only reason he can think of for Quinn's aunt to do something so drastic.

Branden snorts from behind the wheel. "Yeah, no. He missed curfew a handful of times, and she found a carton of smokes in the back of his closet, and when she confronted him about it, he told her he was eighteen and it wasn't illegal, so she told him he could pack up and go back to Salt Lake."

"He won't go back," Jepha says, and Bert nods. He still doesn't know the whole story, but there's no love lost between Quinn and his dad, and he knows Quinn would rather take his chances somewhere new than crawl back home. "He's got to be trying to get to LA," Jepha says. "Brand and I will check the train schedules, and we'll let you know if we hear anything."

"I should--," Bert starts but Jepha interrupts.

"You go home and stay there, in case he comes by again. If he does, bring him to my place. Brand and I can spare a room for a while, if he needs it." He jumps in Branden's car and Bert is shaking as they tear out of the parking lot.

"Oh, God," he says weakly and sits down on the back bumper. He should have gone, he should have run after Quinn, snuck him up into Bert's room and packed a bag. Quinn never asked him for anything; Bert should have known that when he did, it would be for something big.

"You did the right thing," Brendon says, his hand warm on Bert's shoulder, and Bert shakes it off and stares up at him in disbelief.

"You don't even like him," Bert bites out. "You don't even--"

"You've known him for three months, Bert, and he's asking you to give up everything and run off to God knows where? I know that's selfish and stupid, and I know you're better off here," Brendon says viciously.

"You don't get it," Bert yells. "I know you think it's wrong, I know you think it's crazy, but I'm supposed to be with him, Bren, I know that--"

"It was supposed to be us, you and me," Brendon yells back, and Bert takes a stumbling step back into the side of the car. "We had a plan, Bert; I had your back for eight years, and you said you had mine, and now you're just going to fucking leave?" Brendon tries to sound angry, but Bert can see how his eyes are shining.

"Brendon," Bert tucks his hand around the back of Brendon's neck and pulls him close, closer, until their foreheads are pressed together. Brendon's eyes are closed and he's close to tears. "Bren, you'll always be my best friend," he says quietly, and Brendon's hand fists in Bert's sleeve.

"I can't do this, Bert. I can't do this by myself."

"Can't do what?" Bert hasn't seen Brendon like this since they were kids, scared and totally adrift, his fingers shaking when Bert takes his hand.

"I can't be who they want me to be and not go crazy," Brendon says, barely a whisper. "I know you don't care, but I do, and I just. I'm losing it a little here."

"I see that," Bert says and Brendon lets out a slow breath and swipes at his cheeks with the back of his hand. "I'm in love with him," Bert says, because he doesn't know what else to say. Quinn wants him to leave, and Brendon's asking him, begging him to stay, and it's like he's being torn in half, but, "I have to find him, okay? I'm not going to just leave, but I have to find him."

Brendon sighs and presses his face to Bert's neck. They stand there for a long minute, just holding onto each other in the parking lot, before Brendon pulls back and reaches a hand into his pocket. "Don't be mad," he says quietly, and hands Bert a letter. "He's heading to Provo, to the bus depot."

Bert stares at the letter for a second then back to Brendon. Brendon, who knew this whole time... "'m sorry," Brendon whispers, red-eyed and miserable, and Bert just kisses his temple and jumps in the car. Brendon leans in the open window. "I'll tell your mom you're at my house tonight," he says, and Bert nods and turns on the car.

*

Part 3