Fic: About A Girl (1/2)
About A Girl
always-a-girl!Bren/Jon
adult
~13000 words
beta'd and encouraged by why_me_why_not
obviously fake, as Brendon Urie is not, in fact, a girl
Bren knows how interviews go. There's always the fake-polite greeting, and a couple of questions about the current tour, and then the journalist always - always - asks about being the only girl in the band, about dating, if she's ever dated one of the guys.
Bren knows how interviews go. There's always the fake-polite greeting, and a couple of questions about the current tour, and then the journalist always - always - asks about being the only girl in the band, about dating, if she's ever dated one of the guys. She usually makes a bet about it with Spencer beforehand. Most of the time she wins.
The thing is, it isn't a lie or a joke when she says she loves her guys too much to sleep with them. The interviewers always laugh, and Brent and Spencer and Ryan always smile and go along with it, like it's a joke. Ryan doesn't believe her when she says it; he's got a bad history with people saying they love him and doing things to hurt him. Spencer might get it; he's smart like that. She's not sure about Brent, but she's pretty sure he doesn't care; she's not sure what he cares about anymore, but it certainly doesn't seem to be the band.
She does love them. Not the way Brent probably wanted her to when he invited her to audition for the band. Bren's pretty sure that he really expected her to suck, and it was just a way to get her to go somewhere with him that wasn't obviously a date. But he's a part of her life now, even though he's been a dick lately, and she can't just stop loving him even when it seems like he's stopped loving or even liking them.
Bren doesn't know the moment she fell in love with Ryan Ross, but she remembers the moment she realized it. She'd wanted to cry or scream with the hopelessness of it: Ryan had a girlfriend; they were a band; Bren was barely hanging on to school and her job and her shitty apartment, and she didn't want to love anyone; most of all, she didn't want to be a Behind The Music special before they even had a record deal. She'd tucked the knowledge and the emotion away and got on with the daily business of living (for all that everyone thinks she's impractical and flighty, she knows how to keep moving forward; sometimes it's the only thing a person can do), and things were fine. She and Ryan were fine, they were close; sometimes he stayed with her when he didn't want to go home, sometimes with Spencer. It got to the point where she could wake up in the morning with Ryan's arm flung over her stomach and his cold feet below hers and the never-quite-completely-gone knots in her stomach didn't even twinge.
Spencer, well, Spencer's special in his own way, steady and upright, and she'd love him for the way he held her up when her parents made her choose, if nothing else. But there's so much more that remains tucked beneath the surface smirk he shows the world.
Bren loses her virginity on a hotel night during the Nintendo Fusion Tour. "Loses" is such a stupid word, really. It's not like it's a puppy that wandered off, and she doesn't want it back; it's not something she particularly values. But she'd been a dorky band kid and good Mormon daughter before she'd chosen Panic! At the Disco over her family, and guys hadn't exactly been beating down her door. Once she'd had the freedom to do as she pleased, she'd been so busy earning a living that, even if she'd wanted to look for a guy, she hadn't had the time or energy.
It's not that she wants hearts and flowers. Most flowers make her sneeze, and her heart really isn't available, but still, she thinks long and hard about it, and she really doesn't want to just pick up some random guy. She's got enough sense to value her health and safety more than that, plus a residual amount of modesty, although most of that vanished after the first week on the road in a van.
Andy is nice. Andy's cute. Andy talks music with Bren and he's straight and he's clearly not looking for a girlfriend, but he's looking to get laid, and Bren really wants to trace the most recent addition to his sleeves with her tongue. She wants to know what the raised, bruised skin feels like. So when Pete and Ryan go off to "talk" and Spence calls home and Brent and Joe smoke up in Joe and Pete's room, she works her wiles. Or, you know, she would if she had any. What it comes down to is tumbling into Andy's lap and interrupting his diatribe about the overuse of air-conditioning and cars in the bedroom community that houses the amphitheater and festival they just played by pressing her lips to his. It's awkward for a second, but then Andy kisses back and everything goes pretty much as planned from there. Well, okay, it goes as planned once Andy verifies (again) that she's legal. Which she is. She so so totally is.
Bren doesn't tell Andy she's never had sex before, but she figures he suspects, given how clearly not experienced she is.
She's had orgasms before, but wow. If a blow job feels anywhere near as good as Andy's lips and tongue and teeth on her clit, no wonder Ryan's always going on about Jac.
Just. Wow.
It's easier than she expected - somehow she imagined it would hurt the first time, maybe because her mom made sex sound like Serious Business when she'd explained how babies were made - and when she's got Andy's hair bunched in her hands and his lips on her neck and his cock inside her, she decides she really really likes sex, and she was stupid for waiting this long to have any.
She doesn't like it so much when, after Andy's pulled out and sprawled on his back, the first thing he says is, "Pete is going to kill me."
Actually, no. Pete gave Bren and the guys lectures about condoms and having sex with groupies and helped her get a prescription for birth control pills and enough refills to cover the months they'd be on the road before releasing them into the wild. Bren rather suspects Pete would be relieved she's not screwing under-age fans or fucking up her own band by sleeping with them.
It doesn't take much to convince Andy of this. He knows Pete, after all, and he knows what it's like on tour.
Bren's afraid it'll be weird, after, but Andy offers her the first shower (and, okay, even with a condom, she still feels sticky and sweaty; in a good way, though) and when they're both clean, they watch PayPerView and fall asleep with the TV still on. Bren wakes first the next morning, and when Andy stirs she gives her very first blow job. She's not convinced that she's that good at it, but Andy watches her lips move over his skin with heavy-lidded eyes, and he's pretty vocal that no blow job is a bad one, so.
She sneaks back to her room later, and no one is the wiser.
It's not a Thing. Bren and Andy hook up every so often. No strings. So when she meets Audrey, she feels no need to hold back. And it's nice to have another girl around sometimes. Especially a hot girl, one who likes to give head as much as she likes to get it.
Most of the other guys on the tour don't seem to notice another scene queen hanging around. Bren doesn't make an announcement or anything to her boys, but she assumes they know she and Audrey aren't just sleeping when they're in her bunk. Spencer is the only one to bring it up.
"Does she make you happy?" he asks one afternoon when they're waiting for their turn to sound-check. "Happy enough to not care what people will say when they realize she's not just hanging around to share makeup tips and giggle about guys?"
"People say it anyway, Spence. If not her, then clearly I must be fucking you guys, or I must have fucked Pete to get our contract."
Really, Bren's not stupid and she's not oblivious. She's just got a thicker skin than most people think.
"Bren..."
She just smiles brightly. It's brittle underneath, but still, it's a smile. "I'm not looking for the boy or girl of my dreams, Spence. I just want someone to hold. And that's all Audrey's looking for, either."
So, yeah, Bren assumes that Brent and Ryan know what's going on, too.
Apparently not. One afternoon when they're supposed to be off with a couple of Hellogoodbye guys (she'd been pretty sure they were just looking for girls and weed as a distraction, whichever they found first, so she'd turned down the invitation to join them), Bren and Audrey take advantage of the empty back lounge of the bus (a bus; Bren still can't describe her glee). Bren is draped across the sofa, her eyes closed and her hands holding onto the cushion. Her shirt is rucked up above her breasts, and Audrey's hand is curved around her hip, holding her still while she licks down Bren's belly, when the door slams open and she hears, "Oh, shit."
She opens her eyes in time to see Brent shove aside Spencer, who's trying to block him and Ryan from seeing, so he can peer into the lounge. What happens next probably only takes three seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. Bren jerks upright, and Audrey's pulling fabric down to cover bare skin, hauling herself upright as quickly as she can. Bren watches Brent's expression morph from curiosity to shock, then he's stumbling out, pushing Ryan out of his way. Spencer goes after him, yelling, "Sorry, Bren, I'll see--Brent, wait!" before he's out the door, going after him. Bren isn't sure if he's going to console Brent or convince him to keep his mouth shut.
Ryan just gapes, looking from Bren to Audrey and then back again, before clearing his throat. "I'll just..." He waves at the bunks. "...leave you two alone?"
Audrey slumps so that they're resting together. "Well, that was a mood killer, wasn't it?"
Bren is still too stunned to respond.
For a second she just presses her forehead to Audrey's shoulder and wishes for things she knows she can't have.
Things are cool between Bren and Brent after that, to say the least. Spencer doesn't tell her, but she hears from Siska that there was a screaming row when Spencer caught up with Brent, and Brent said some pretty nasty things about Bren before Spencer shut him up with a pretty wicked left hook (she really wants him to teach her how to do that; all women should be capable of self-defense) but nothing that wouldn't be interpreted as sour grapes by anyone who overheard them.
It's also the beginning of the end with Audrey. She's got modeling stuff going on, less time to follow the tour. Which is actually fine with Bren. They part on a positive note, and that's as much as she expected or hoped for. Sometimes she feels Spencer watching her, his expression unreadable, but he doesn't want to talk about whatever is on his mind. Tension builds, and Bren would be lying if she said she didn't understand the source or that she wasn't tempted to take advantage of it. Spencer is competent, okay, and he's got these arms and hips, and Bren suspects he's as good at fucking as he is at everything else he's ever tried, but she's already messed up enough without actually fucking a band member, so she resists.
Bren starts spending more time with the Academy guys. Well, Siska and Mike and the Butcher, mostly. William's usually busy with Ryan or texting Pete or talking to Gabe, and she gets this weird vibe from Tom that makes her uncomfortable when it's just the two of them.
She's flirting with Mike with no intention of it going anywhere, arguing the merits of Red Bull while he defends Monster, when Jon Walker joins them.
"Mike, don't you know that it's easier to get to second base if you defer to the lady on such subjects?"
Bren smirks. Mike's not getting any further than the batter's box.
"Jonny Walker, purveyor of knowledge of all things caffeinated! Which is better, Red Bull or Monster?"
"Why would anyone drink either one when a good French or Espresso roast was available? And if there is no coffee, who cares what pitiful source of energy remains?"
Bren's smirk widens to a smile. She never used to drink coffee in its plain form, but she's learned to appreciate its merits since starting to tour. Still, she doesn't have the pure and true love for it that Jon Walker does.
Bren is maybe just a little bit dazzled by Jonathan Jacob Walker. He's just. He's Jon. He's calm and collected, and he's funny in a sharply sarcastic but low-key way, and he plays guitar and bass and piano, and he knows Disney, and yes, okay, Bren can admit that she has a schoolgirl crush on him. It's not, you know, that she's looking to seduce him or anything because, hello, seductive is just not in her repertoire, no matter what Ryan thinks they should consider adding to their stage act. But she never objects to more time spent in his presence, even if it's just tuning Mike and Tom and Ryan's guitars. Bren is completely and totally aware that her feelings are obvious, and she doesn't think this thing is entirely one-sided, but Bren won't be the one to make a move this time; she just can't.
She doesn't. At least, not without provocation. They're hanging out on the Academy bus, playing Mario Kart. Tom was there when Bren came in with Jon, but Mike climbed onto the bus, and that had been Tom's cue to vanish. He turns down Jon's offer to come with him with a sharp shake of his head and glance at Bren.
Bren's pretty sure he'll come back completely wasted, and it's not like she has any room to criticize or anything, but she thinks it's taking a toll on his playing. She makes no claims to understand the Tom/Mike/William dynamic, but she knows it's probably as bad as the Brent vs. the rest of Panic! schism that feels about a mile wide now, and Jon seems pretty squarely stuck between his best friend and the band.
"You're a nice guy, Jon Walker."
"Nice guy, huh? We always finish last, though. And we never get the girl."
Bren might be a late bloomer and all, but she recognizes the opening there.
"I refuse to believe that there is a woman alive who is immune to your charm, JWalk." She laughs, just in case she's misinterpreted. "It's magic."
"Magic? So if I just wish hard enough...?" He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
"It's not like a birthday wish."
Jon's eyes open, and he sets down the Nintendo controller. "Too late. I already made it."
Jon is going to kiss her, Bren knows. Oddly, she's more nervous about this kiss than she was the first time she had sex.
She thinks about waiting demurely, letting Jon do all the work, but fuck that. Bren's never been passive about getting what she wants, especially when she's fairly certain that the repercussions won't include band implosions. She moves just as Jon does, and their noses bump awkwardly. Bren doesn't let that stop her; both hands move to Jon's cheeks, and then he's angling his head and brushing his lips over hers lightly, then with more purpose when she smiles against them.
"You want to stay tonight?"
Bren has stayed on the Academy bus overnight before; she passes out in Jon's bunk when they've been drinking, and she falls asleep on the couch in the back lounge whenever they watch the horrible sci-fi movies Siska loves. But she's never stayed when the invitation had intent.
She wants to. She wants that a lot.
She stands and pulls Jon to his feet. Jon ushers her back to the bunks and waits until she's stretched out along the back wall before climbing in after her, tugging the curtain closed behind him.
She'd have sex with him if he asked, but he doesn't. They make out for what feels like hours, until her lips feel swollen and she's pretty sure she's going to have a spectacular case of beard burn. There's a slow burn of arousal low in her belly before Jon turns her so that her back is pressed against his front. She can feel him, hard against her hip, but Jon just whispers, "Stay with me, like this," in her ear.
She does.
Two weeks later, Brent disappears after sound-check. When he isn't back an hour before they're scheduled to go on, Bren panics. She can play piano or she can play bass, but she can't do both, and she's not sure she can rearrange everything in her head before they have to go on. Ryan retreats into sullen silence, his makeup more elaborate than usual. Spencer, being Spencer, organizes a search party. Just in case, he extracts a promise from Jon that he'll play Brent's part if they can't find him.
Brent reappears fifteen minutes before showtime. If Bren didn't have to sing, she'd scream herself hoarse bitching him out.
As it is, she focuses on the positive: Brent is there; Jon's willing to step up in his place (she's going to keep that in mind, because she has a feeling this is not the last of their troubles with Brent); she has an awesome idea about the arrangement of Esteban she wants to suggest to Ryan. The set's not the best they've ever done - Spencer spends most of it trying to steady Ryan, who's rushing, and Bren flat-out refuses to do the usual bit of playing to and mic-sharing with Brent that she normally does. Brent keeps his head down and acts like he's the injured party, like he hadn't just wandered off without a word.
"I came back in time," was all he said, other than a muttered thanks when Jon handed him his bass, tuned and ready to go.
The scene in the dressing room afterward is not pretty. Bren yells at Brent until Spencer intervenes and tries to coax an explanation from him. None is forthcoming. Ryan, who took the first shower and left Brent to the two band members who wouldn't draw blood, metaphorically, goes back to being the Rain Man of makeup artistry, and Spencer turns his attention to calming him. Brent skulks off to the bus - they send Zack with him, just to be sure he doesn't disappear again. Bren's still angry, still hyped from the set, all the anger and adrenaline pumping, and she's too restless to sit and do nothing, so she showers, if the trickle of tepid water can be rightfully be called a shower - and heads back to the side-stage in time to see TAI's last few songs.
After the show, she stays. She could probably just wait for Jon, but she's bored and got energy to burn. Most of the roadies and venue staff are men, and some of them are reluctant to let a chick do any work, but Jon's there, so she feels comfortable, safe and strong enough to help him with the guitars and amps.
Even after an hour of pushing, pulling, lifting and packing, she's still thrumming.
After all of TAI's and Panic's equipment is set, loaded onto the truck, she hustles Jon into the dressing room Panic used earlier.
The lights around the mirror are still on, bright after the dimness of the hallway. She pushes Jon onto the sofa and falls to her knees in front of him and props her elbows on high thighs. She leans close enough to kiss him before whispering, "You deserve a reward."
Jon's got this little wrinkle on his forehead that looks like the beginning of a frown, but she gets fabric out the way and slides her lips over and around Jon's dick, and whatever he was about to say turns into a gasping moan of her name. Bren uses every trick she learned from Andy, plus some she got from watching PornoTube but hasn't tried before.
Bren's pretty sure, from the grip on her shoulder and in her hair and the growly moan of her name, that this blow job is a spectacular improvement over the first one she ever gave.
When she's done, she climbs up into Jon's lap. Unbearably aroused -- Seriously, the sounds he was making, and the tug on her hair that he tried to prevent but couldn't? Totally hot -- and shoves her hand down between her thighs, where her jeans' inseam is rubbing mercilessly over sensitized skin.
"Wait, wait." Jon manages to wriggle his hand inside her pants (she swears she's going to start wearing looser jeans to make this easier), and she'd be embarrassed by how wet she is if she wasn't already convulsing against him.
She has no idea how long they stay there, propped against each other on the sofa, but the sounds of the venue are quieting, and it's got to be close to bus-call.
"Are you riding with us tonight?"
"Can't. I'm pretty sure we've got band business to discuss. If Brent's talking, the dick."
"Tomorrow?"
"Promise."
The thing is. They've been doing this thing they're doing for fifteen days, sleeping in each other's bunks and otherwise hanging out most nights, and that blow job is the first one she's given him. They haven't had full-on sex yet. Not because Bren's hesitant or anything, but because of Jon. Bren teases him, tells him he's a closet romantic, that he absorbed it from his on-and-off girlfriend back in Chicago. He just smiles and tells her it'll be worth the wait. And since, in the meantime, there's plenty of cuddling and kissing and touching above and underneath the clothes, she's been okay with that.
But Bren really wants Jon to fuck her, and their next hotel night is still six days away.
She's got a plan. It doesn't matter which bus they're on, not really, but it's convenient that Jon specifically requested they ride together the next night. When Bren changes out of her stage clothes that night, she finds an old t-shirt that she's seen Jon eyeing in the past, one that clings to her torso while leaving her arms bare, pulls it on over a pair of cotton pants before heading over to his bus. If the pants' drawstring is loose and the waistband actually settles on the curve of her hipbones, well, that just makes them easier to get on and off.
Other than a brief kiss when she first climbs onto the bus and a deliberate brush against him when she refills her drink, Bren maintains her distance, leaving him to finish the game of poker he'd been playing with Tom when she arrived. She makes sure that he can tell from the bounce of her breast that she's not wearing a bra, and she can tell by the purse of Jon's lips when she lets her thigh press against Sisky's that he knows what she's doing. She catches him staring at the point where skin peeks from ragged sleeve-holes, feels the weight of his gaze on her, brushing her abdomen when she's laughing with Siska over Guitar Hero. She stays where she is, lets the tension build -- Jon was talking with Tom, initially, but his end of the conversation has fallen to noncommittal grunts specifically related to his hand. Finally Jon gets up, leaves Tom to his beer and his cards, puts his hand on her hip, half over bare skin, half over cotton, and stops her from starting the next round.
"Hey."
"Hi." She smiles like she doesn't know what she's been doing to him all night. He's totally not fooled. A hand under her elbow brings her to her feet, and then she's following as he tugs her back to his bunk and tumbles her down into it.
"I was going to be sweet and slow and romantic about this." Jon's already got one hand in her hair, the other lifting her leg so it hooks over his hip. "But that'll have to wait."
They struggle to get clothing out of the way, but then there's bare skin and humid breath and hasty kisses, and when finally, finally, finally Jon rolls a condom on and slides home, Bren's babble is reduced to nothing but a steady repetition of Jon's name.
This is what she wanted, wanted, wants. She's surrounded by Jon, feels the muscles of his back sliding under her hands, his biceps flexing as he moves against her, the rasp of his stubble on her cheeks and chin and neck. Somehow Jon's voice gets even softer and deeper. Neither of them tries to be quiet, and it doesn't even occur to Bren until after, when they're lying there, sweaty and tangled together, and someone slaps the curtain on their way by.
"Finally, you fuckers. Some of us are trying to sleep."
Bren can't meet William's eyes without blushing the next morning, but he gives her a cup of coffee - truck stop sludge, but still, coffee's coffee - and sends her on her way without comment.
(She's less embarrassed, more amused when, the next night, she and Jon have just settled in Jon's bunk when she hears the opening bars of Lying drift out from the back lounge.
"Fucking turn that down, you bastard!" Jon's shout is accompanied by a shoe tossed at the door.
Bren just grins at Jon and tugs him more firmly onto her, and gets to working making sure that she's the only thing he thinks about while they're in bed.)
She finds her bus and does a quick wash and change. When Ryan asks where she was, she tells him she was on the TAI bus with Jon. And maybe it's stupid after the assumption about Audrey, but she figures that they understand what "with Jon" means. That's pretty much all she says on the matter, though. It's not like it changes the way she behaves with them: she's still a firm believer in the your-personal-space-is-my-personal-space way of life, so it's not like she acts any differently toward Jon now.
She's not hiding anything. She figures they know something's up -- she returns to the bus in the mornings with beard burn and a satisfied smile -- but they're all functioning under the Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy.
That is fine with Bren. Spencer's always been discreet, but Bren really doesn't want to hear details when Ryan breaks up with Jac and starts hooking up. She already knows far, far more than she'd like about Brent and his girlfriend. Seriously, she thought she was going to be scarred for life after the last loop through SoCal, when scheduling karma allowed Missy to spend her Spring Break with them.
It's not a big deal. Then they do gigs two nights in a row in the same city, and Pete suggests that Panic switches with TAI at the smaller venue. The whole night just seems weird and off - there's tension with the Academy guys like there wasn't even when they learned whose CDs were selling faster - and Bren's unbelievably relieved when the house lights finally go down and she can fling herself into a lather for the kids in the crowd.
She bounces off stage after the encore - an encore, you never get to do those when you're one of the openers - right into Jon. He's used to her pouncing on him, though, so when she hops into his arms, he barely even staggers, just braces himself and curls an arm under her hips to boost her. Bren winds her legs around him and lets the smacking kiss she lays on his smiling lips turn into something else entirely. It only ends when the utter silence behind her finally pierces the high of show adrenaline and Jon.
She unwinds her legs from his hips and lets herself fall to floor, disconnecting their lips last. She clears her throat and turns in time to see Brent pointedly looking away, finding his cell phone to call Missy. Ryan brushes past her on his way to shower without meeting her eyes. Spencer tries; he smiles tentatively, not quite naturally, and comments about the crowd.
The ride to the motel is mercifully brief, and she texts Jon her room number once they're checked in.
112. Lonely. Need a roommate.
The water pressure in the shower looks awesome (even in a motel, it's better than the trickle or bucket-wash of bus and van bathing). Plus, a bed that is not a bunk. Bren is totally getting clean before her body touches fresh sheets. She's got the water temp up to just shy of boiling when Jon knocks at the door. When she lets him in, he's still in the sweaty clothes he was wearing earlier, but there's a backpack slung over his shoulder. Bren stands up on tiptoe to close the inches between them and kisses him lightly. Jon drops the bag and pulls her closer, but before Jon can deepen the kiss she steps back.
"I was just going to take a shower."
Jon inspects her, a slow, heated inventory that goes from head to toe and back up again. "Don't let me stop you."
He's right there behind her, so close she can feel the heat of his body, when she moves the few feet back into the bathroom. Jon leans against the counter and watches expectantly, and, well, it's not like he hasn't seen most of Bren naked at one point or another. But usually when they have sex, it's quick and hurried in an abandoned room at a venue, and they just bare whatever bits and pieces are necessary, or it's in the dim closeness of a bunk. This is... it's bright, and there's no rush, and Jon is watching her with intent and intensity that makes Bren a little nervous, in addition to turned on.
It's like performing, but for an audience of one. As Bren worries the seam at the hem of her t-shirt, she decides she should make it a performance that leaves the viewer satisfied.
She bites her lip, holding eye contact with Jon for a second, long enough to see him focus on her mouth, before letting her eyes slide closed. She peeks up through her eyelashes, though, to see that Jon's still watching. Slowly, slowly she lifts the shirt, crossing her arms over chest and pulling it up, over her head, letting her back arch and pushing her chest forward. There's no bra beneath - Bren couldn't bear to put more layers on after taking her costume off, knowing she'd get a shower before bed. She tosses her shirt onto the floor and pops the button on her jeans. They're tight, so they don't just fall, she has to peel them over her hips and thighs until they slide down enough to step out of. She kicks them aside, and she's standing there in string bikini panties, a single scrap of lace with a little stripe of fabric. Her skin already feels hypersensitive, and Bren is uncomfortably aware of the rough scratch of lace where it touches the crease of her inner thigh. She toys with the elastic where it curves between her hipbones, brushes the lace delicately, and waits until Jon looks up from her hands to meet her gaze again. She lets her lips curl invitingly before pushing the panties over her hips and letting them fall into a puddle on the floor.
Jon doesn't move, and for a second she thinks maybe she should just pick up her clothes and burrow under the blankets in embarrassment, but then she realizes his hands are clenched on the counter's edge so tight that his knuckles are white.
Her smile widens, and she deliberately turns her back on him, climbs into the shower, and pulls the curtain closed but for the last couple of inches.
The curtain is opaque, but she hears the quiet rustle of clothes being removed, denim hitting the floor, and then Jon's there, dropping a foil-wrapped condom on the soap tray, crowding her backwards, so that her back hits cool tile and her front is covered with warm male, and there's hot water everywhere else.
"Tease."
Bren doesn't answer, just hums happily against his lips. Jon kisses her again, slow drugging passes of lips and tongue against hers. Eventually he pulls back slightly, and she protests, but he grabs the shampoo and works it into her hair, and that's, okay that feels awesome. Bren purrs at the massage of strong fingers on her scalp, then down her neck and shoulders. Jon reaches up, redirects the spray enough to rinse away the suds. Then he's kissing her again, sipping water from her ear, following the tendons in her neck with nips. (She started out trying to do the same to him, but she's just relaxed now, her arms around his shoulders, enjoying the attention.) He follows the trickle of water down her chest to suck it from the tip of one nipple, then the other. She knows where this is going when instead of straightening, he falls to his knees. Jon presses open-mouthed kisses to her hipbones, shifts so that her stance widens and he can lift her leg onto his shoulder before nuzzling hair at apex of her thighs. He traces the hollow between hip and thigh inward, presses into her with his tongue, and Bren lets him hold her weight, lets him do whatever he wants. It feels so good, she wants him to never stop, even though she really wants him to fuck her. Jon shifts the hand on her thigh, drifts around, lifting her just a little, and she's not expecting it when his fingers keep moving, sliding into her. She jerks forward, into him, pressing tighter against stubble and calluses and fuck, that's good. Jon's other hand tightens on her hip, holding her in place while he works a rhythm with his fingers and lips and tongue, and before she even expects it, the world is reduced to the muffled whiteness of wet and heat and Jon. When she comes back to herself, Jon is still kneeling there, looking up at her through the spray.
"C'mere." She can barely get the word out.
Jon manages to rearrange them so that he's on his feet in front of her, braced between her spread legs, without ever removing his fingers from her cunt. Jon licks into her mouth and pushes his erection against her hip. She clenches around his fingers in reaction, and he moves his lips to her ear.
"Put the condom on me?"
She scrabbles with clumsy fingers to comply.
Bren wakes obscenely early, starving, and decides to find the nearest source of coffee. She pulls on clothes and steals Jon's cap - seriously, her hair is beyond sex hair or bed head, approaches psycho hair from having been slept on wet - and sets out to find a bakery or coffee shop. The clerk at the motel's office is helpful, and half an hour later, she's back with a couple of cups of French roast and a bag of chocolate chocolate-chip muffins. Jon's still asleep, hasn't even rolled over from the position he was in when she left, so she sets his cup on the nightstand. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pries the lid off the other cup and blows on it, trying to cool it to drinking temperature. Jon must have an internal coffee-sensor, because she's barely taken a sip when he rolls over and cracks open an eye. He sits up and makes grabby hands at her, so Bren gives him her coffee and reaches for the other. Before she's even got the lid off, Jon consumes half the first cup. He looks from her to the coffee and back again.
"Marry me and bring me coffee every morning."
She would. She totally would, if she wanted to marry anyone, because Jon gets it. He understands the hold that music has on her, that her band has on her heart and her life, and he doesn't want to change it.
"You just love me for my pastry. I know it."
"Not just the pastry. But it definitely factors in."
Jon reaches toward her, and Bren thinks he's going for the coffee, but he just sets it next to the muffins and pulls her down into a coffee-flavored kiss. Her coffee is cold when she finally gets to it, but she regrets it not at all.
Truckstops and Statelines finally ends, and it should be a triumph - they've been selling out, Fever has gone platinum, kids are screaming their lyrics right back at them - but Bren feels like they just barely manage to stagger across a finish line. Pete's talking about another tour after the summer festivals, and Bren loves touring, but she's sort of dreading the idea of getting back on the bus. She really just wants a couple of weeks off.
They head back to Vegas, leaving Jon and TAI in Chicago. Bren misses him, but she tells herself it was just a tour thing. Jon was only taking the one term off, he was supposed to go back to college in the fall, after TAI was done with the summer circuit, and he'd agreed to take Cassie to her senior prom if she hadn't started seeing anyone else while he was gone, and his mom wanted him to take possession of Dylan. It's not like they don't call or text or whatever on a daily basis.
Bren moves back to her parents' house. They're still not thrilled with her decision to leave the Church, but they try, so Bren makes an effort to meet them halfway. It's harder than she expected, and she ends up censoring herself, holding in things she got used to being able to share, but her parents are making an effort so it's the least she can do.
It's weird, not seeing Spencer and Ryan and Brent every day after living in each other's space for months. She catches up with old friends, and ends up hitting some clubs and shows with Brittney, who she hasn't seen in almost a year, and Audrey, who deliberately scheduled a week-long stint of jobs in Vegas to overlap with the band's break. It's funny: Bren had to lie about her age and flash a fake ID to get into clubs before, but now bouncers are willing to look the other way. She's not famous enough that everyone knows who she is, but the music scene in Vegas is small enough, and Bren's learned what to do, how to act and move, so that it's no trouble at all acting like she belongs and getting past the velvet ropes that used to bar the entrances.
After Audrey's gone back to LA and Brittany begs off, and after a couple of nights spent babysitting nieces and nephews and fending off well-meaning questions from her sister-in-law, Bren feels restless enough to go back; she goes alone, but she's not really looking to hook up, and not having a wingman to put off interlopers gets old.
The next time she feels the urge, she convinces Ryan and Spencer to come along, and it's... fun. Bren can't remember the last time they hung out without worrying about band-related stuff. Ryan and Spencer don't really dance, even when Bren gives them her saddest, pleading-est expression, but they hold her drink and save her space at the tiny little table in the corner, so she feels comfortable dancing by herself, or with whoever happens to be out on the floor, and it's. Nice.
She's got her eyes closed and is enjoying the way the bass is thrumming through her when she feels someone moving against her with more purpose than the usual crowd bump and grind. She smiles at the guy but shakes her head and moves away. He takes it easily enough, and she throws herself back into the music - seriously, she wants to see if they can incorporate more actual dancing into the stage show for her, not just the Lucent Dossier people, it'd be awesome. Before the song can slide into a new one, the guy's back, though. This time Bren doesn't smile; apparently a gentle turn-down was too subtle. She just backs away.
It happens a third time, and Bren has to give the guy points for persistence, but now she's just annoyed, and her irritation ratchets up when she feels a male body press briefly against her back and a hand settles on her hip, but then Spencer's voice is in her ear, "Hey, you okay?"
She tips her head back and smiles at him, "Fine now. You tired of holding up our spot in the corner?" Bren's still moving with the beat, and Spencer is doing a minimum amount of foot-shuffling so he doesn't look like a tool, standing still in the middle of the floor.
"Ry's got it; you looked like you maybe needed help. I can go back if you don't." He flicks a glance away from her.
"No, stay." Her hand covers his, holds him where he is.
Persistent Guy isn't backing away, though. He's hovering, clearly trying to decide if he should press forward. Bren forestalls any additional efforts on his part by reaching up and back, twining her arm around Spencer's neck, and pushing herself more firmly against him, holding herself in his space until Spencer picks up the same rhythm. Persistent Guy moves a step back, and Spencer's hand flexes on her hip, but Bren doesn't let him go. She probably could, but she likes the way it feels, having him there, protecting her, moving with her. She doesn't want a random hook-up, no; but she's not going to lie to herself about the things she does want, even if she will never ask for some of them aloud.
"Hey, you're out here now. Dance with me."
"Bren-"
"Just one song."
She can feel it when he accedes; his grip changes. Both hands frame her hips now, shifting her to the rhythm he sets - Drummers! she thinks - and she lets herself relax, melt back against him. She's back to enjoying the vibration of the music, the brush of humid breath against her temple, and Spencer's heat at her back, when Spence makes a questioning noise in her ear. She looks up and finds Ryan watching them, his entire body tense as he leans forward, his eyes hot. Then he sits back and takes a sip of his drink - club soda, no lime - and Bren wonders if maybe she imagined the hunger in his expression, and if she hadn't, whether it was directed at her or Spencer. Spencer puts a miniscule amount of space between their bodies, just enough for Bren to be aware that they're no longer touching, and steers them so that when the song shifts to something new, they're climbing the stairs off the dance floor. Bren doesn't object. She's busy wondering if she missed something important.
Bren stays in the Smiths' guest room that night. It's the first time she's ever wanted to sneak into Spencer's room, but not done so. A year ago, climbing into bed with Spencer because she was lonely would have been fine; now it feels like it would be crossing a line. Instead, she types and retypes a text message to Jon until she is frustrated with herself and deletes it entirely. She wonders what it says about her that she can't differentiate between her need for Jon and Spencer and Ryan.
Part the second
Master post
always-a-girl!Bren/Jon
adult
~13000 words
beta'd and encouraged by why_me_why_not
obviously fake, as Brendon Urie is not, in fact, a girl
Bren knows how interviews go. There's always the fake-polite greeting, and a couple of questions about the current tour, and then the journalist always - always - asks about being the only girl in the band, about dating, if she's ever dated one of the guys.
Bren knows how interviews go. There's always the fake-polite greeting, and a couple of questions about the current tour, and then the journalist always - always - asks about being the only girl in the band, about dating, if she's ever dated one of the guys. She usually makes a bet about it with Spencer beforehand. Most of the time she wins.
The thing is, it isn't a lie or a joke when she says she loves her guys too much to sleep with them. The interviewers always laugh, and Brent and Spencer and Ryan always smile and go along with it, like it's a joke. Ryan doesn't believe her when she says it; he's got a bad history with people saying they love him and doing things to hurt him. Spencer might get it; he's smart like that. She's not sure about Brent, but she's pretty sure he doesn't care; she's not sure what he cares about anymore, but it certainly doesn't seem to be the band.
She does love them. Not the way Brent probably wanted her to when he invited her to audition for the band. Bren's pretty sure that he really expected her to suck, and it was just a way to get her to go somewhere with him that wasn't obviously a date. But he's a part of her life now, even though he's been a dick lately, and she can't just stop loving him even when it seems like he's stopped loving or even liking them.
Bren doesn't know the moment she fell in love with Ryan Ross, but she remembers the moment she realized it. She'd wanted to cry or scream with the hopelessness of it: Ryan had a girlfriend; they were a band; Bren was barely hanging on to school and her job and her shitty apartment, and she didn't want to love anyone; most of all, she didn't want to be a Behind The Music special before they even had a record deal. She'd tucked the knowledge and the emotion away and got on with the daily business of living (for all that everyone thinks she's impractical and flighty, she knows how to keep moving forward; sometimes it's the only thing a person can do), and things were fine. She and Ryan were fine, they were close; sometimes he stayed with her when he didn't want to go home, sometimes with Spencer. It got to the point where she could wake up in the morning with Ryan's arm flung over her stomach and his cold feet below hers and the never-quite-completely-gone knots in her stomach didn't even twinge.
Spencer, well, Spencer's special in his own way, steady and upright, and she'd love him for the way he held her up when her parents made her choose, if nothing else. But there's so much more that remains tucked beneath the surface smirk he shows the world.
Bren loses her virginity on a hotel night during the Nintendo Fusion Tour. "Loses" is such a stupid word, really. It's not like it's a puppy that wandered off, and she doesn't want it back; it's not something she particularly values. But she'd been a dorky band kid and good Mormon daughter before she'd chosen Panic! At the Disco over her family, and guys hadn't exactly been beating down her door. Once she'd had the freedom to do as she pleased, she'd been so busy earning a living that, even if she'd wanted to look for a guy, she hadn't had the time or energy.
It's not that she wants hearts and flowers. Most flowers make her sneeze, and her heart really isn't available, but still, she thinks long and hard about it, and she really doesn't want to just pick up some random guy. She's got enough sense to value her health and safety more than that, plus a residual amount of modesty, although most of that vanished after the first week on the road in a van.
Andy is nice. Andy's cute. Andy talks music with Bren and he's straight and he's clearly not looking for a girlfriend, but he's looking to get laid, and Bren really wants to trace the most recent addition to his sleeves with her tongue. She wants to know what the raised, bruised skin feels like. So when Pete and Ryan go off to "talk" and Spence calls home and Brent and Joe smoke up in Joe and Pete's room, she works her wiles. Or, you know, she would if she had any. What it comes down to is tumbling into Andy's lap and interrupting his diatribe about the overuse of air-conditioning and cars in the bedroom community that houses the amphitheater and festival they just played by pressing her lips to his. It's awkward for a second, but then Andy kisses back and everything goes pretty much as planned from there. Well, okay, it goes as planned once Andy verifies (again) that she's legal. Which she is. She so so totally is.
Bren doesn't tell Andy she's never had sex before, but she figures he suspects, given how clearly not experienced she is.
She's had orgasms before, but wow. If a blow job feels anywhere near as good as Andy's lips and tongue and teeth on her clit, no wonder Ryan's always going on about Jac.
Just. Wow.
It's easier than she expected - somehow she imagined it would hurt the first time, maybe because her mom made sex sound like Serious Business when she'd explained how babies were made - and when she's got Andy's hair bunched in her hands and his lips on her neck and his cock inside her, she decides she really really likes sex, and she was stupid for waiting this long to have any.
She doesn't like it so much when, after Andy's pulled out and sprawled on his back, the first thing he says is, "Pete is going to kill me."
Actually, no. Pete gave Bren and the guys lectures about condoms and having sex with groupies and helped her get a prescription for birth control pills and enough refills to cover the months they'd be on the road before releasing them into the wild. Bren rather suspects Pete would be relieved she's not screwing under-age fans or fucking up her own band by sleeping with them.
It doesn't take much to convince Andy of this. He knows Pete, after all, and he knows what it's like on tour.
Bren's afraid it'll be weird, after, but Andy offers her the first shower (and, okay, even with a condom, she still feels sticky and sweaty; in a good way, though) and when they're both clean, they watch PayPerView and fall asleep with the TV still on. Bren wakes first the next morning, and when Andy stirs she gives her very first blow job. She's not convinced that she's that good at it, but Andy watches her lips move over his skin with heavy-lidded eyes, and he's pretty vocal that no blow job is a bad one, so.
She sneaks back to her room later, and no one is the wiser.
It's not a Thing. Bren and Andy hook up every so often. No strings. So when she meets Audrey, she feels no need to hold back. And it's nice to have another girl around sometimes. Especially a hot girl, one who likes to give head as much as she likes to get it.
Most of the other guys on the tour don't seem to notice another scene queen hanging around. Bren doesn't make an announcement or anything to her boys, but she assumes they know she and Audrey aren't just sleeping when they're in her bunk. Spencer is the only one to bring it up.
"Does she make you happy?" he asks one afternoon when they're waiting for their turn to sound-check. "Happy enough to not care what people will say when they realize she's not just hanging around to share makeup tips and giggle about guys?"
"People say it anyway, Spence. If not her, then clearly I must be fucking you guys, or I must have fucked Pete to get our contract."
Really, Bren's not stupid and she's not oblivious. She's just got a thicker skin than most people think.
"Bren..."
She just smiles brightly. It's brittle underneath, but still, it's a smile. "I'm not looking for the boy or girl of my dreams, Spence. I just want someone to hold. And that's all Audrey's looking for, either."
So, yeah, Bren assumes that Brent and Ryan know what's going on, too.
Apparently not. One afternoon when they're supposed to be off with a couple of Hellogoodbye guys (she'd been pretty sure they were just looking for girls and weed as a distraction, whichever they found first, so she'd turned down the invitation to join them), Bren and Audrey take advantage of the empty back lounge of the bus (a bus; Bren still can't describe her glee). Bren is draped across the sofa, her eyes closed and her hands holding onto the cushion. Her shirt is rucked up above her breasts, and Audrey's hand is curved around her hip, holding her still while she licks down Bren's belly, when the door slams open and she hears, "Oh, shit."
She opens her eyes in time to see Brent shove aside Spencer, who's trying to block him and Ryan from seeing, so he can peer into the lounge. What happens next probably only takes three seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. Bren jerks upright, and Audrey's pulling fabric down to cover bare skin, hauling herself upright as quickly as she can. Bren watches Brent's expression morph from curiosity to shock, then he's stumbling out, pushing Ryan out of his way. Spencer goes after him, yelling, "Sorry, Bren, I'll see--Brent, wait!" before he's out the door, going after him. Bren isn't sure if he's going to console Brent or convince him to keep his mouth shut.
Ryan just gapes, looking from Bren to Audrey and then back again, before clearing his throat. "I'll just..." He waves at the bunks. "...leave you two alone?"
Audrey slumps so that they're resting together. "Well, that was a mood killer, wasn't it?"
Bren is still too stunned to respond.
For a second she just presses her forehead to Audrey's shoulder and wishes for things she knows she can't have.
Things are cool between Bren and Brent after that, to say the least. Spencer doesn't tell her, but she hears from Siska that there was a screaming row when Spencer caught up with Brent, and Brent said some pretty nasty things about Bren before Spencer shut him up with a pretty wicked left hook (she really wants him to teach her how to do that; all women should be capable of self-defense) but nothing that wouldn't be interpreted as sour grapes by anyone who overheard them.
It's also the beginning of the end with Audrey. She's got modeling stuff going on, less time to follow the tour. Which is actually fine with Bren. They part on a positive note, and that's as much as she expected or hoped for. Sometimes she feels Spencer watching her, his expression unreadable, but he doesn't want to talk about whatever is on his mind. Tension builds, and Bren would be lying if she said she didn't understand the source or that she wasn't tempted to take advantage of it. Spencer is competent, okay, and he's got these arms and hips, and Bren suspects he's as good at fucking as he is at everything else he's ever tried, but she's already messed up enough without actually fucking a band member, so she resists.
Bren starts spending more time with the Academy guys. Well, Siska and Mike and the Butcher, mostly. William's usually busy with Ryan or texting Pete or talking to Gabe, and she gets this weird vibe from Tom that makes her uncomfortable when it's just the two of them.
She's flirting with Mike with no intention of it going anywhere, arguing the merits of Red Bull while he defends Monster, when Jon Walker joins them.
"Mike, don't you know that it's easier to get to second base if you defer to the lady on such subjects?"
Bren smirks. Mike's not getting any further than the batter's box.
"Jonny Walker, purveyor of knowledge of all things caffeinated! Which is better, Red Bull or Monster?"
"Why would anyone drink either one when a good French or Espresso roast was available? And if there is no coffee, who cares what pitiful source of energy remains?"
Bren's smirk widens to a smile. She never used to drink coffee in its plain form, but she's learned to appreciate its merits since starting to tour. Still, she doesn't have the pure and true love for it that Jon Walker does.
Bren is maybe just a little bit dazzled by Jonathan Jacob Walker. He's just. He's Jon. He's calm and collected, and he's funny in a sharply sarcastic but low-key way, and he plays guitar and bass and piano, and he knows Disney, and yes, okay, Bren can admit that she has a schoolgirl crush on him. It's not, you know, that she's looking to seduce him or anything because, hello, seductive is just not in her repertoire, no matter what Ryan thinks they should consider adding to their stage act. But she never objects to more time spent in his presence, even if it's just tuning Mike and Tom and Ryan's guitars. Bren is completely and totally aware that her feelings are obvious, and she doesn't think this thing is entirely one-sided, but Bren won't be the one to make a move this time; she just can't.
She doesn't. At least, not without provocation. They're hanging out on the Academy bus, playing Mario Kart. Tom was there when Bren came in with Jon, but Mike climbed onto the bus, and that had been Tom's cue to vanish. He turns down Jon's offer to come with him with a sharp shake of his head and glance at Bren.
Bren's pretty sure he'll come back completely wasted, and it's not like she has any room to criticize or anything, but she thinks it's taking a toll on his playing. She makes no claims to understand the Tom/Mike/William dynamic, but she knows it's probably as bad as the Brent vs. the rest of Panic! schism that feels about a mile wide now, and Jon seems pretty squarely stuck between his best friend and the band.
"You're a nice guy, Jon Walker."
"Nice guy, huh? We always finish last, though. And we never get the girl."
Bren might be a late bloomer and all, but she recognizes the opening there.
"I refuse to believe that there is a woman alive who is immune to your charm, JWalk." She laughs, just in case she's misinterpreted. "It's magic."
"Magic? So if I just wish hard enough...?" He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
"It's not like a birthday wish."
Jon's eyes open, and he sets down the Nintendo controller. "Too late. I already made it."
Jon is going to kiss her, Bren knows. Oddly, she's more nervous about this kiss than she was the first time she had sex.
She thinks about waiting demurely, letting Jon do all the work, but fuck that. Bren's never been passive about getting what she wants, especially when she's fairly certain that the repercussions won't include band implosions. She moves just as Jon does, and their noses bump awkwardly. Bren doesn't let that stop her; both hands move to Jon's cheeks, and then he's angling his head and brushing his lips over hers lightly, then with more purpose when she smiles against them.
"You want to stay tonight?"
Bren has stayed on the Academy bus overnight before; she passes out in Jon's bunk when they've been drinking, and she falls asleep on the couch in the back lounge whenever they watch the horrible sci-fi movies Siska loves. But she's never stayed when the invitation had intent.
She wants to. She wants that a lot.
She stands and pulls Jon to his feet. Jon ushers her back to the bunks and waits until she's stretched out along the back wall before climbing in after her, tugging the curtain closed behind him.
She'd have sex with him if he asked, but he doesn't. They make out for what feels like hours, until her lips feel swollen and she's pretty sure she's going to have a spectacular case of beard burn. There's a slow burn of arousal low in her belly before Jon turns her so that her back is pressed against his front. She can feel him, hard against her hip, but Jon just whispers, "Stay with me, like this," in her ear.
She does.
Two weeks later, Brent disappears after sound-check. When he isn't back an hour before they're scheduled to go on, Bren panics. She can play piano or she can play bass, but she can't do both, and she's not sure she can rearrange everything in her head before they have to go on. Ryan retreats into sullen silence, his makeup more elaborate than usual. Spencer, being Spencer, organizes a search party. Just in case, he extracts a promise from Jon that he'll play Brent's part if they can't find him.
Brent reappears fifteen minutes before showtime. If Bren didn't have to sing, she'd scream herself hoarse bitching him out.
As it is, she focuses on the positive: Brent is there; Jon's willing to step up in his place (she's going to keep that in mind, because she has a feeling this is not the last of their troubles with Brent); she has an awesome idea about the arrangement of Esteban she wants to suggest to Ryan. The set's not the best they've ever done - Spencer spends most of it trying to steady Ryan, who's rushing, and Bren flat-out refuses to do the usual bit of playing to and mic-sharing with Brent that she normally does. Brent keeps his head down and acts like he's the injured party, like he hadn't just wandered off without a word.
"I came back in time," was all he said, other than a muttered thanks when Jon handed him his bass, tuned and ready to go.
The scene in the dressing room afterward is not pretty. Bren yells at Brent until Spencer intervenes and tries to coax an explanation from him. None is forthcoming. Ryan, who took the first shower and left Brent to the two band members who wouldn't draw blood, metaphorically, goes back to being the Rain Man of makeup artistry, and Spencer turns his attention to calming him. Brent skulks off to the bus - they send Zack with him, just to be sure he doesn't disappear again. Bren's still angry, still hyped from the set, all the anger and adrenaline pumping, and she's too restless to sit and do nothing, so she showers, if the trickle of tepid water can be rightfully be called a shower - and heads back to the side-stage in time to see TAI's last few songs.
After the show, she stays. She could probably just wait for Jon, but she's bored and got energy to burn. Most of the roadies and venue staff are men, and some of them are reluctant to let a chick do any work, but Jon's there, so she feels comfortable, safe and strong enough to help him with the guitars and amps.
Even after an hour of pushing, pulling, lifting and packing, she's still thrumming.
After all of TAI's and Panic's equipment is set, loaded onto the truck, she hustles Jon into the dressing room Panic used earlier.
The lights around the mirror are still on, bright after the dimness of the hallway. She pushes Jon onto the sofa and falls to her knees in front of him and props her elbows on high thighs. She leans close enough to kiss him before whispering, "You deserve a reward."
Jon's got this little wrinkle on his forehead that looks like the beginning of a frown, but she gets fabric out the way and slides her lips over and around Jon's dick, and whatever he was about to say turns into a gasping moan of her name. Bren uses every trick she learned from Andy, plus some she got from watching PornoTube but hasn't tried before.
Bren's pretty sure, from the grip on her shoulder and in her hair and the growly moan of her name, that this blow job is a spectacular improvement over the first one she ever gave.
When she's done, she climbs up into Jon's lap. Unbearably aroused -- Seriously, the sounds he was making, and the tug on her hair that he tried to prevent but couldn't? Totally hot -- and shoves her hand down between her thighs, where her jeans' inseam is rubbing mercilessly over sensitized skin.
"Wait, wait." Jon manages to wriggle his hand inside her pants (she swears she's going to start wearing looser jeans to make this easier), and she'd be embarrassed by how wet she is if she wasn't already convulsing against him.
She has no idea how long they stay there, propped against each other on the sofa, but the sounds of the venue are quieting, and it's got to be close to bus-call.
"Are you riding with us tonight?"
"Can't. I'm pretty sure we've got band business to discuss. If Brent's talking, the dick."
"Tomorrow?"
"Promise."
The thing is. They've been doing this thing they're doing for fifteen days, sleeping in each other's bunks and otherwise hanging out most nights, and that blow job is the first one she's given him. They haven't had full-on sex yet. Not because Bren's hesitant or anything, but because of Jon. Bren teases him, tells him he's a closet romantic, that he absorbed it from his on-and-off girlfriend back in Chicago. He just smiles and tells her it'll be worth the wait. And since, in the meantime, there's plenty of cuddling and kissing and touching above and underneath the clothes, she's been okay with that.
But Bren really wants Jon to fuck her, and their next hotel night is still six days away.
She's got a plan. It doesn't matter which bus they're on, not really, but it's convenient that Jon specifically requested they ride together the next night. When Bren changes out of her stage clothes that night, she finds an old t-shirt that she's seen Jon eyeing in the past, one that clings to her torso while leaving her arms bare, pulls it on over a pair of cotton pants before heading over to his bus. If the pants' drawstring is loose and the waistband actually settles on the curve of her hipbones, well, that just makes them easier to get on and off.
Other than a brief kiss when she first climbs onto the bus and a deliberate brush against him when she refills her drink, Bren maintains her distance, leaving him to finish the game of poker he'd been playing with Tom when she arrived. She makes sure that he can tell from the bounce of her breast that she's not wearing a bra, and she can tell by the purse of Jon's lips when she lets her thigh press against Sisky's that he knows what she's doing. She catches him staring at the point where skin peeks from ragged sleeve-holes, feels the weight of his gaze on her, brushing her abdomen when she's laughing with Siska over Guitar Hero. She stays where she is, lets the tension build -- Jon was talking with Tom, initially, but his end of the conversation has fallen to noncommittal grunts specifically related to his hand. Finally Jon gets up, leaves Tom to his beer and his cards, puts his hand on her hip, half over bare skin, half over cotton, and stops her from starting the next round.
"Hey."
"Hi." She smiles like she doesn't know what she's been doing to him all night. He's totally not fooled. A hand under her elbow brings her to her feet, and then she's following as he tugs her back to his bunk and tumbles her down into it.
"I was going to be sweet and slow and romantic about this." Jon's already got one hand in her hair, the other lifting her leg so it hooks over his hip. "But that'll have to wait."
They struggle to get clothing out of the way, but then there's bare skin and humid breath and hasty kisses, and when finally, finally, finally Jon rolls a condom on and slides home, Bren's babble is reduced to nothing but a steady repetition of Jon's name.
This is what she wanted, wanted, wants. She's surrounded by Jon, feels the muscles of his back sliding under her hands, his biceps flexing as he moves against her, the rasp of his stubble on her cheeks and chin and neck. Somehow Jon's voice gets even softer and deeper. Neither of them tries to be quiet, and it doesn't even occur to Bren until after, when they're lying there, sweaty and tangled together, and someone slaps the curtain on their way by.
"Finally, you fuckers. Some of us are trying to sleep."
Bren can't meet William's eyes without blushing the next morning, but he gives her a cup of coffee - truck stop sludge, but still, coffee's coffee - and sends her on her way without comment.
(She's less embarrassed, more amused when, the next night, she and Jon have just settled in Jon's bunk when she hears the opening bars of Lying drift out from the back lounge.
"Fucking turn that down, you bastard!" Jon's shout is accompanied by a shoe tossed at the door.
Bren just grins at Jon and tugs him more firmly onto her, and gets to working making sure that she's the only thing he thinks about while they're in bed.)
She finds her bus and does a quick wash and change. When Ryan asks where she was, she tells him she was on the TAI bus with Jon. And maybe it's stupid after the assumption about Audrey, but she figures that they understand what "with Jon" means. That's pretty much all she says on the matter, though. It's not like it changes the way she behaves with them: she's still a firm believer in the your-personal-space-is-my-personal-space way of life, so it's not like she acts any differently toward Jon now.
She's not hiding anything. She figures they know something's up -- she returns to the bus in the mornings with beard burn and a satisfied smile -- but they're all functioning under the Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy.
That is fine with Bren. Spencer's always been discreet, but Bren really doesn't want to hear details when Ryan breaks up with Jac and starts hooking up. She already knows far, far more than she'd like about Brent and his girlfriend. Seriously, she thought she was going to be scarred for life after the last loop through SoCal, when scheduling karma allowed Missy to spend her Spring Break with them.
It's not a big deal. Then they do gigs two nights in a row in the same city, and Pete suggests that Panic switches with TAI at the smaller venue. The whole night just seems weird and off - there's tension with the Academy guys like there wasn't even when they learned whose CDs were selling faster - and Bren's unbelievably relieved when the house lights finally go down and she can fling herself into a lather for the kids in the crowd.
She bounces off stage after the encore - an encore, you never get to do those when you're one of the openers - right into Jon. He's used to her pouncing on him, though, so when she hops into his arms, he barely even staggers, just braces himself and curls an arm under her hips to boost her. Bren winds her legs around him and lets the smacking kiss she lays on his smiling lips turn into something else entirely. It only ends when the utter silence behind her finally pierces the high of show adrenaline and Jon.
She unwinds her legs from his hips and lets herself fall to floor, disconnecting their lips last. She clears her throat and turns in time to see Brent pointedly looking away, finding his cell phone to call Missy. Ryan brushes past her on his way to shower without meeting her eyes. Spencer tries; he smiles tentatively, not quite naturally, and comments about the crowd.
The ride to the motel is mercifully brief, and she texts Jon her room number once they're checked in.
112. Lonely. Need a roommate.
The water pressure in the shower looks awesome (even in a motel, it's better than the trickle or bucket-wash of bus and van bathing). Plus, a bed that is not a bunk. Bren is totally getting clean before her body touches fresh sheets. She's got the water temp up to just shy of boiling when Jon knocks at the door. When she lets him in, he's still in the sweaty clothes he was wearing earlier, but there's a backpack slung over his shoulder. Bren stands up on tiptoe to close the inches between them and kisses him lightly. Jon drops the bag and pulls her closer, but before Jon can deepen the kiss she steps back.
"I was just going to take a shower."
Jon inspects her, a slow, heated inventory that goes from head to toe and back up again. "Don't let me stop you."
He's right there behind her, so close she can feel the heat of his body, when she moves the few feet back into the bathroom. Jon leans against the counter and watches expectantly, and, well, it's not like he hasn't seen most of Bren naked at one point or another. But usually when they have sex, it's quick and hurried in an abandoned room at a venue, and they just bare whatever bits and pieces are necessary, or it's in the dim closeness of a bunk. This is... it's bright, and there's no rush, and Jon is watching her with intent and intensity that makes Bren a little nervous, in addition to turned on.
It's like performing, but for an audience of one. As Bren worries the seam at the hem of her t-shirt, she decides she should make it a performance that leaves the viewer satisfied.
She bites her lip, holding eye contact with Jon for a second, long enough to see him focus on her mouth, before letting her eyes slide closed. She peeks up through her eyelashes, though, to see that Jon's still watching. Slowly, slowly she lifts the shirt, crossing her arms over chest and pulling it up, over her head, letting her back arch and pushing her chest forward. There's no bra beneath - Bren couldn't bear to put more layers on after taking her costume off, knowing she'd get a shower before bed. She tosses her shirt onto the floor and pops the button on her jeans. They're tight, so they don't just fall, she has to peel them over her hips and thighs until they slide down enough to step out of. She kicks them aside, and she's standing there in string bikini panties, a single scrap of lace with a little stripe of fabric. Her skin already feels hypersensitive, and Bren is uncomfortably aware of the rough scratch of lace where it touches the crease of her inner thigh. She toys with the elastic where it curves between her hipbones, brushes the lace delicately, and waits until Jon looks up from her hands to meet her gaze again. She lets her lips curl invitingly before pushing the panties over her hips and letting them fall into a puddle on the floor.
Jon doesn't move, and for a second she thinks maybe she should just pick up her clothes and burrow under the blankets in embarrassment, but then she realizes his hands are clenched on the counter's edge so tight that his knuckles are white.
Her smile widens, and she deliberately turns her back on him, climbs into the shower, and pulls the curtain closed but for the last couple of inches.
The curtain is opaque, but she hears the quiet rustle of clothes being removed, denim hitting the floor, and then Jon's there, dropping a foil-wrapped condom on the soap tray, crowding her backwards, so that her back hits cool tile and her front is covered with warm male, and there's hot water everywhere else.
"Tease."
Bren doesn't answer, just hums happily against his lips. Jon kisses her again, slow drugging passes of lips and tongue against hers. Eventually he pulls back slightly, and she protests, but he grabs the shampoo and works it into her hair, and that's, okay that feels awesome. Bren purrs at the massage of strong fingers on her scalp, then down her neck and shoulders. Jon reaches up, redirects the spray enough to rinse away the suds. Then he's kissing her again, sipping water from her ear, following the tendons in her neck with nips. (She started out trying to do the same to him, but she's just relaxed now, her arms around his shoulders, enjoying the attention.) He follows the trickle of water down her chest to suck it from the tip of one nipple, then the other. She knows where this is going when instead of straightening, he falls to his knees. Jon presses open-mouthed kisses to her hipbones, shifts so that her stance widens and he can lift her leg onto his shoulder before nuzzling hair at apex of her thighs. He traces the hollow between hip and thigh inward, presses into her with his tongue, and Bren lets him hold her weight, lets him do whatever he wants. It feels so good, she wants him to never stop, even though she really wants him to fuck her. Jon shifts the hand on her thigh, drifts around, lifting her just a little, and she's not expecting it when his fingers keep moving, sliding into her. She jerks forward, into him, pressing tighter against stubble and calluses and fuck, that's good. Jon's other hand tightens on her hip, holding her in place while he works a rhythm with his fingers and lips and tongue, and before she even expects it, the world is reduced to the muffled whiteness of wet and heat and Jon. When she comes back to herself, Jon is still kneeling there, looking up at her through the spray.
"C'mere." She can barely get the word out.
Jon manages to rearrange them so that he's on his feet in front of her, braced between her spread legs, without ever removing his fingers from her cunt. Jon licks into her mouth and pushes his erection against her hip. She clenches around his fingers in reaction, and he moves his lips to her ear.
"Put the condom on me?"
She scrabbles with clumsy fingers to comply.
Bren wakes obscenely early, starving, and decides to find the nearest source of coffee. She pulls on clothes and steals Jon's cap - seriously, her hair is beyond sex hair or bed head, approaches psycho hair from having been slept on wet - and sets out to find a bakery or coffee shop. The clerk at the motel's office is helpful, and half an hour later, she's back with a couple of cups of French roast and a bag of chocolate chocolate-chip muffins. Jon's still asleep, hasn't even rolled over from the position he was in when she left, so she sets his cup on the nightstand. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pries the lid off the other cup and blows on it, trying to cool it to drinking temperature. Jon must have an internal coffee-sensor, because she's barely taken a sip when he rolls over and cracks open an eye. He sits up and makes grabby hands at her, so Bren gives him her coffee and reaches for the other. Before she's even got the lid off, Jon consumes half the first cup. He looks from her to the coffee and back again.
"Marry me and bring me coffee every morning."
She would. She totally would, if she wanted to marry anyone, because Jon gets it. He understands the hold that music has on her, that her band has on her heart and her life, and he doesn't want to change it.
"You just love me for my pastry. I know it."
"Not just the pastry. But it definitely factors in."
Jon reaches toward her, and Bren thinks he's going for the coffee, but he just sets it next to the muffins and pulls her down into a coffee-flavored kiss. Her coffee is cold when she finally gets to it, but she regrets it not at all.
Truckstops and Statelines finally ends, and it should be a triumph - they've been selling out, Fever has gone platinum, kids are screaming their lyrics right back at them - but Bren feels like they just barely manage to stagger across a finish line. Pete's talking about another tour after the summer festivals, and Bren loves touring, but she's sort of dreading the idea of getting back on the bus. She really just wants a couple of weeks off.
They head back to Vegas, leaving Jon and TAI in Chicago. Bren misses him, but she tells herself it was just a tour thing. Jon was only taking the one term off, he was supposed to go back to college in the fall, after TAI was done with the summer circuit, and he'd agreed to take Cassie to her senior prom if she hadn't started seeing anyone else while he was gone, and his mom wanted him to take possession of Dylan. It's not like they don't call or text or whatever on a daily basis.
Bren moves back to her parents' house. They're still not thrilled with her decision to leave the Church, but they try, so Bren makes an effort to meet them halfway. It's harder than she expected, and she ends up censoring herself, holding in things she got used to being able to share, but her parents are making an effort so it's the least she can do.
It's weird, not seeing Spencer and Ryan and Brent every day after living in each other's space for months. She catches up with old friends, and ends up hitting some clubs and shows with Brittney, who she hasn't seen in almost a year, and Audrey, who deliberately scheduled a week-long stint of jobs in Vegas to overlap with the band's break. It's funny: Bren had to lie about her age and flash a fake ID to get into clubs before, but now bouncers are willing to look the other way. She's not famous enough that everyone knows who she is, but the music scene in Vegas is small enough, and Bren's learned what to do, how to act and move, so that it's no trouble at all acting like she belongs and getting past the velvet ropes that used to bar the entrances.
After Audrey's gone back to LA and Brittany begs off, and after a couple of nights spent babysitting nieces and nephews and fending off well-meaning questions from her sister-in-law, Bren feels restless enough to go back; she goes alone, but she's not really looking to hook up, and not having a wingman to put off interlopers gets old.
The next time she feels the urge, she convinces Ryan and Spencer to come along, and it's... fun. Bren can't remember the last time they hung out without worrying about band-related stuff. Ryan and Spencer don't really dance, even when Bren gives them her saddest, pleading-est expression, but they hold her drink and save her space at the tiny little table in the corner, so she feels comfortable dancing by herself, or with whoever happens to be out on the floor, and it's. Nice.
She's got her eyes closed and is enjoying the way the bass is thrumming through her when she feels someone moving against her with more purpose than the usual crowd bump and grind. She smiles at the guy but shakes her head and moves away. He takes it easily enough, and she throws herself back into the music - seriously, she wants to see if they can incorporate more actual dancing into the stage show for her, not just the Lucent Dossier people, it'd be awesome. Before the song can slide into a new one, the guy's back, though. This time Bren doesn't smile; apparently a gentle turn-down was too subtle. She just backs away.
It happens a third time, and Bren has to give the guy points for persistence, but now she's just annoyed, and her irritation ratchets up when she feels a male body press briefly against her back and a hand settles on her hip, but then Spencer's voice is in her ear, "Hey, you okay?"
She tips her head back and smiles at him, "Fine now. You tired of holding up our spot in the corner?" Bren's still moving with the beat, and Spencer is doing a minimum amount of foot-shuffling so he doesn't look like a tool, standing still in the middle of the floor.
"Ry's got it; you looked like you maybe needed help. I can go back if you don't." He flicks a glance away from her.
"No, stay." Her hand covers his, holds him where he is.
Persistent Guy isn't backing away, though. He's hovering, clearly trying to decide if he should press forward. Bren forestalls any additional efforts on his part by reaching up and back, twining her arm around Spencer's neck, and pushing herself more firmly against him, holding herself in his space until Spencer picks up the same rhythm. Persistent Guy moves a step back, and Spencer's hand flexes on her hip, but Bren doesn't let him go. She probably could, but she likes the way it feels, having him there, protecting her, moving with her. She doesn't want a random hook-up, no; but she's not going to lie to herself about the things she does want, even if she will never ask for some of them aloud.
"Hey, you're out here now. Dance with me."
"Bren-"
"Just one song."
She can feel it when he accedes; his grip changes. Both hands frame her hips now, shifting her to the rhythm he sets - Drummers! she thinks - and she lets herself relax, melt back against him. She's back to enjoying the vibration of the music, the brush of humid breath against her temple, and Spencer's heat at her back, when Spence makes a questioning noise in her ear. She looks up and finds Ryan watching them, his entire body tense as he leans forward, his eyes hot. Then he sits back and takes a sip of his drink - club soda, no lime - and Bren wonders if maybe she imagined the hunger in his expression, and if she hadn't, whether it was directed at her or Spencer. Spencer puts a miniscule amount of space between their bodies, just enough for Bren to be aware that they're no longer touching, and steers them so that when the song shifts to something new, they're climbing the stairs off the dance floor. Bren doesn't object. She's busy wondering if she missed something important.
Bren stays in the Smiths' guest room that night. It's the first time she's ever wanted to sneak into Spencer's room, but not done so. A year ago, climbing into bed with Spencer because she was lonely would have been fine; now it feels like it would be crossing a line. Instead, she types and retypes a text message to Jon until she is frustrated with herself and deletes it entirely. She wonders what it says about her that she can't differentiate between her need for Jon and Spencer and Ryan.
Part the second
Master post