Put my enemies to sleep (2/3)
Notes - Part One - Part Two - Part Three
--
"Merry fucking Christmas!" Brent shouted at Brendon through the front door. "Let me in, motherfucker!"
"Shut the fuck up!" Someone screamed from down the hall. Brendon looked up, squinting fuzzily. He and Ryan had fallen asleep in front of the TV again, apparently; it was light out and they were sprawled on the futon on the floor. Ryan was kind of spooning him. Ryan was also about as hot as the surface of the sun, Jesus Christ. Brendon wriggled away and stumbled to the door, dragging Brent in and ignoring his shrieking neighbours. Someone from the other end of the hall had joined in.
"Ryan, wake the hell up," Brent said, flopping on top of him.
Ryan mumbled something that might have been "piss off".
"Come on," Brent said, poking at his cheek. Ryan batted at his hand, brow furrowing.
"Okay, I'm getting the ice water," Brent said cheerfully.
"What the hell is up with you, dude?" Brendon asked, bemused. Brent grinned at him, leading the way to the kitchen.
"I dunno, like. It's Christmas, you know? It's good to be home. And instead of going back to school in two weeks we get to go to fucking England. Like. Come on. How is that even real?" Brent babbled as he rummaged through Brendon's cupboard, finally surfacing with a small pot, setting it in the sink and filling it with water.
"I wish I knew," Brendon said, shaking his head. "Are you seriously going to attack him with ice water? I, uh. You might want to reconsider that."
"Nah," Brent said, dismissing him with a wave. He hefted the pot up and headed back to the living room. "Seriously, he should get up anyway."
"You have fun with that," Brendon said skeptically, and went to go take a shower and hide. He locked the door for protection and didn't start running the water, listening at the door until there was a satisfying howl from the living room.
--
Spencer's mother volunteered to drive them to the airport the morning they left for England, so Brendon didn't bother waking up until she was actually at his front door. He and Ryan had both fallen asleep in loose jeans and hoodies on purpose so they wouldn't even have to get dressed before heading out. It was a total genius move. Brendon was proud of himself for thinking of it.
Brendon's and Brent's parents had shown up at the airport, greeting them cheerily even with the ungodly hour and pressing Christmas leftovers on them. Brendon had pointed out that they were more than halfway through January and that food leftover from Christmas was not something he necessarily wanted to be eating, like, a month after. Especially not meat. He was totally going to stick to the vegetarian thing this time.
"Food does go bad," he'd said helpfully, and gotten a couple solid smacks upside his head for his trouble.
"Why do you think I had so many boys?" his mother had asked. "Garbage disposal. We never composted because we never had any leftovers," she'd said to Spencer's mother.
Then they'd almost missed their flight since they waited at the wrong gate until Spencer thought to check their tickets against the display, and they didn't even have four seats together. Brent and Spencer ended up in the front of the plane, Brendon and Ryan in the back.
"You're so distant now," Brent said, mock-sincere, hand clapped over his chest. "God, you've just completely replaced me with Ryan, haven't you? You're breaking my heart."
Brent sniffled theatrically as Spencer made barfing faces behind him. Brendon laughed and threw a languid arm around Ryan's shoulders, pulling him close. "I upgraded, man," he said with a purposeful wiggle of his eyebrows. Ryan shoved him away. Brendon took it in stride. Ryan was never a touchy person with him where anyone could see. Brendon thought it was kind of a weird thing to assert your manliness on -- especially given how close Ryan tended to end up with Brendon when they were alone, but whatever. It wasn't something Brendon really knew how to talk about, and it was hard to get too annoyed when Ryan was actually paying attention to him again.
Once they took off, Ryan glanced over at Brendon. "I've never been out of the country before," he said quietly.
Brendon bent awkwardly in his seat, silently cursing the seatbelt symbol still glowing above his head, rummaging through his carry-on until he found a Tupperware container of mashed sweet potato and marshmallow salad. It had for bden written on the top in his mother's handwriting with a smiley face. When Brendon sat up, he curled into his chair, facing Ryan.
"Never? Not even, like, Mexico?" Brendon asked, peeling back the top and scooping his finger through the salad, sucking the gloop noisily.
"That's disgusting," Ryan told him. Brendon snickered and dipped his finger in again, shoving it in Ryan's face. Ryan scrunched up his face and tried to push Brendon away, but Brendon managed to stick his finger in Ryan's mouth.
"See?" he said smugly. He pushed his finger further into Ryan's mouth, which felt weird, all slick and wet and warm, but seriously. "It's just sweet potatoes and mini-marshmallows. Also known as the best food ever. There's pineapple mashed up in there, too."
Ryan lifted an eyebrow, wrapping his fingers around Brendon's wrist and sucking delicately on his finger. Brendon inhaled sharply, trying to stay still and not break the spell. Ryan tugged, drawing Brendon's finger out of his mouth until only the tip was still between his lips. Ryan set his teeth gently against Brendon's skin and swirled his tongue slowly. Brendon licked his lips nervously, biting at the inside of his cheek while Ryan took his finger back into his mouth, sucking harder.
Brendon squirmed a little in his seat, gaze locked with Ryan's. Ryan pulled Brendon's finger from his mouth and let the tip rest against his bottom lip, just -- just looking at Brendon. He wasn't saying anything.
"See?" Brendon said shakily, reaching down for more salad. Ryan smiled and opened his mouth a little. Brendon hesitated before slipping his finger back into Ryan's mouth. Ryan didn't hold his wrist this time, just dipped his head to suck Brendon's finger further into his mouth. Brendon shifted, curling his finger around Ryan's tongue. Ryan didn't take his eyes off Brendon.
--
"Hey, hey, no fighting in front of the kids," Tom shouted, barely able to get the words out from laughing so hard. William had one of the guys from The Junior Varsity in a headlock, Ned? Nick? Nick. Definitely Nick.
"You know they learn these things at home," Nick said, his voice muffled. "Think about the example you're setting! Violence only begets violence! Stop the cycle! Fuck the Man! In, fuck, get -- asshole -- someone -- "
"Switzerland, I'm Switzerland," Brendon said, holding his hands up and backing away hastily as Nick and William swerved close to him. Siska ducked behind Nick and somehow managed to get his belt undone and tug his pants down.
"Motherfucker!" Nick shouted. Everyone laughed. "This is sexual harassment, man, you are violating me! I was saving myself for Jesus!"
"I just can't live without you, baby," William said with a shimmy of his hips.
"William's totally winning," Brent said. "How is he winning? He's gotta weigh like four pounds. How? You're violating physics, here, man," Brent's voice raised to a shout at the end of his sentence.
"He's violating me!" Nick shrieked.
"Oh my God, this is going to be us," Spencer said, not bothering to hide his excitement. "I can't wait until we have a baby band to haze."
"Put it on your Christmas list for next year," Ryan said dryly.
"I want a little bitch boy for Christmas," Brendon sang, to the tune of "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas". Everyone cackled and Brendon beamed at them through the haze of exhaustion.
--
"Fish and chips time," Spencer cheered once they got their gear packed up. It was easier now that they were with a band that had a few techs who were nice enough to lend a hand.
"To the nearest pub!" Brendon shouted, jumping on Brent's back. Brent crumpled to the ground, laughing and flailing, trying to get Brendon off him. "Rise, noble steed! Onward to vittles!"
"I think we can lose them if we just walk fast," Ryan said to Spencer, looking up over the edge of his Sidekick.
"What are you even doing with that?" Brent asked. "I know you're not getting service here. Why did you even bring it, dude?"
"I told him that his messages to Pete weren't gonna go through on sheer force of will, but you know Ryan, he's young and stupid," Spencer said. He offered Brendon a hand up. Brendon shook his head, shifting his weight over Brent's back and biting the inside of his cheek.
"Come on, we can do this," he said, gripping handfuls of Brent's shirt and tugging. "I believe in you!"
"I am not carrying you," Brent grunted.
"Yes you are," Brendon said. Brent reached around and pinched the inside of Brendon's thigh, hard, and Brendon jumped, sprawling inelegantly on the freezing pavement. "Or, okay, I can walk."
They had no idea where they were or where they were going, but if Brendon had learned anything about the U.K., it was that if you walked in any one direction for long enough, you were sure to hit a pub. They were keeping track of how long they had to walk before they found one every night. So far the longest was five minutes.
Sure enough, they stumbled past one after just a few moments of hunching their shoulders against the cold. It was warm inside, and Brendon practically tackled a table.
"Someone get me hot chocolate," he said insistently. "I got the table."
"Yeah, you sure showed that table who's boss," Spencer said. Brent snorted and went off with him to the bar to order.
"Hey, I'm gonna go call home," Brent said after setting down water glasses and a mug of hot chocolate topped with a pile of whipped cream. "Spencer's babysitting the bartender until our food's up. I think he's ready to eat a person."
Brendon took a quick sip of his hot chocolate, trying to avoid burning his tongue and mostly succeeding. "Mmm," he said happily. He stuck his finger into the mug and stirred.
"You're so gross," Ryan said, flipping his Sidekick open. "Seriously, use a spoon, at least."
"Nah," Brendon said, sucking his finger clean. He swirled his spoon through the hot chocolate, getting the rest of the whipped cream mixed in, scooping up a good spoonful and holding it up to Ryan's lips.
"Hey, don't," Ryan said irritably, flinching away.
"Sorry," Brendon said. He stared down at his hot chocolate. I'm too tired to deal with this shit, he thought, propping his chin up on the heel of his clean hand. He wiped his finger off on his napkin, perking up as Spencer came with their food.
"Dude, I don't think it counts as vegetarian if you're eating those chips," Spencer said.
"They're fries, not chips," Brendon said automatically. "And they're just potatoes."
"I think they fry them with the fish, though," Spencer said through a mouthful. "Gahh, fuck -- ow, hot -- " Ryan smirked at him and started picking through the basket of fries.
"If you eat all the crispy ones I'm going to kill you in your sleep," Brendon said pleasantly. Ryan always fucking ate the best fries, the asshole. Brendon had been riding high on adrenaline when they'd gotten offstage, but now he was looking at a freezing trudge back to the van and a night of uncomfortable, unsatisfying sleep in the tiny British vehicle and he was just seriously not in the mood.
Ryan rolled his eyes. "They're all crispy." Brent came up to the table with a little bottle of Coke, picking up the biggest piece of fish and stuffing it in his mouth, recoiling and swearing at the heat.
"No," Brendon said, ignoring him. "I mean the ones that are kinda burned. You know. The good -- " he broke off to yawn widely. " -- good ones. Blah. Fuck it. I'm dead, guys, I'm going back to the van. Wake me up for soundcheck."
"Are you still jetlagged?" Brent said around his fish.
"Seafood," Spencer snickered. Ryan caught his eye and the two of them dissolved into hyena laughs. Brent made a face at Brendon, fumbling for his gloves and hat.
"Yeah," Brendon said, blinking hard in an attempt to clear his contacts. "I'm beat, seriously. I'm gonna just -- yep."
"Do you know where you're going?" Ryan asked.
"That way," Brendon said, pointing indiscriminately.
"Yeah, okay, I'll go with you," Ryan said, flipping the mitten top of his fingerless gloves over and arranging his hat carefully on his head.
"I'll bring you some crisps," Spencer said.
"Chips," Brendon said, annoyed. Ryan threw an arm around his shoulders and led him to the door. "I'm just going to pretend like I'm blind, okay?"
"What, like for fun?" Ryan asked. Brendon winced as the cold air hit them in a wave.
"I think my nose is gonna freeze off," Brendon said. "Yeah, it's like a game. I close my eyes and you lead me around. My brothers and I used to do it all the time."
"Right," Ryan said, but he left his arm around Brendon's shoulders.
Brendon tipped his head back, keeping his eyes closed. He lurched suddenly as the ground dropped.
"Um, step down," Ryan said, sheepish.
"Yep," Brendon said tiredly. Ryan squeezed his shoulders, stopping and turning him slightly, pushing his back up against something smooth and cold. Van, his brain supplied. Ryan's hand twisted around to rest at the curve of Brendon's neck, barely palpable through the thickness of his winter coat. Brendon kept his eyes closed, felt Ryan reach behind him to get the van door unlocked. Ryan nudged him inside, and Brendon crawled to the back, lying down. He didn't open his eyes.
"Hey, don't forget to take your contacts out," Ryan said quietly. Brendon grumbled but yanked them out, flicking them into the trash bag hooked over the back of the last row. He'd been wearing them for close enough to two weeks, whatever. Finding his contacts case and solution seemed like way too much work. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a way to make his legs fit in the cramped backseat. "Maybe try sitting up?" Ryan suggested. Brendon grunted, pushing his back against the seat and closing his eyes again.
"I'm so fucking tired," he said. Somehow, the van was kind of warm, so Brendon struggled his way out of his coat and kicked his dress shoes off, not caring about the scuffmarks he'd have to polish off in the morning. He heard Ryan shuffling alongside him, then the thump-thump of Ryan's shoes hitting the back wall of the van. Ryan reached over and ran his fingers through Brendon's hair tentatively, as though Brendon might spook and lash out. Brendon sighed instead, forcing a smile to his face, leaning into it. "You okay?" Brendon mumbled. Ryan relaxed a little, stroking down to the back of Brendon's head.
"Yeah," Ryan said, sounding surprised, petting the back of his neck. "Yeah, why?"
"Dunno," Brendon said. He yawned again, another wide, jaw-cracking gulp of air. Ryan shifted closer, resting his head on Brendon's shoulder lightly. Brendon put his arm around Ryan, and Ryan promptly let the full weight of his head rest against Brendon, shifting a little to get closer. Brendon rubbed his back reassuringly. Ryan needed that kind of thing, needed comfort.
"I'm kind of homesick," Ryan admitted after a long pause. "It's -- I don't know. I miss the U.S. It's stupid."
"We'll be back soon," Brendon said. Ryan hummed in response, tucking his nose into the curve of Brendon's neck. His nose was freezing but Brendon was too tired to even tense up. After a moment, Ryan tipped his head back and pressed a soft kiss to Brendon's neck, waiting a few heartbeats before nuzzling the underside of his jaw. Brendon kept still, not sure what Ryan was expecting him to do. Ryan considered him for a long moment, and then, with a sudden burst of decisiveness, he reached up and cupped Brendon's cheek, guiding his head down, his mouth to Ryan's.
Brendon wasn't even thinking, just reacting; just kissing back because -- well. Ryan was kissing him, and his hand was resting lightly on Brendon's cheek, thumb stroking almost hesitantly. Brendon rested his free hand on Ryan's leg, trying to encourage him, barely able to think through the exhaustion.
Ryan tugged on Brendon's lower lip with his teeth, coaxing his mouth open and dipping his tongue between Brendon's lips, curling behind his teeth. Brendon grabbed clumsily for Ryan, trying to get closer, pushing his tongue alongside Ryan's. He sucked Ryan's tongue into his mouth, drifting along as they kissed lazily. Ryan made a pleased noise and Brendon hummed back at him.
Ryan pulled back, pressing their foreheads together. Brendon licked his lips, tongue brushing against Ryan's parted lips.
"I don't," Brendon said, shaking his head a little in confusion.
"Let's just go to sleep, okay?" Ryan said, dropping one more lingering kiss to Brendon's mouth.
"Mmm," Brendon mumbled. Ryan draped his legs over Brendon's lap and curled in closer.
--
"Who the fuck ate the last of my cereal?" Brendon snapped, rooting through the snacks bag at the back of the van. They hit a pothole and he banged his head against the window. "Ow."
They were gearing up to play the last show on the tour, and Brendon kind of hated everything. He hadn't been sleeping well because it was too cold and Ryan kept being weird, and seriously he was just ready to go home, but they weren't even going home in between tours. The tour started in Michigan and then they had to drive up into Toronto, and Brendon was so completely sick of being cold and tired and cramped. He was ready to go spend some time with some new and different people, but they'd be back with Academy for the next tour, which was going to go on for approximately forever. Brendon liked the Academy guys, but they were pretty heavy into parties and Ryan wasn't in a particularly tolerant mood. Nobody had managed to get in touch with his mother, and his father was still in the hospital.
Brendon was just done. Done with everything. Ryan wouldn't talk to him about anything, but every time they were alone he'd crawl into Brendon's space and tilt his head, like he was asking permission. For what, Brendon still wasn't entirely sure. He had an idea, obviously, but he was kind of bewildered by the attention. Brendon didn't know whether it was Ryan experimenting with boys or experimenting with him and he really didn't want to be someone's bicurious phase. And in any case, Pete was supposed to have been Ryan's bicurious phase. If it was even over. Ryan was still emailing Pete compulsively whenever they made it to a venue with internet access.
In any case, Ryan didn't kiss him like someone unused to kissing boys. He didn't touch Brendon like someone who didn't know how to handle another person's cock.
They had a hotel room a week into tour, just the two of them in a cramped room, one bed, and Ryan had pushed him back until his knees hit the bed and he'd sat down heavily. Ryan had dropped to his knees and worked Brendon's pants open, getting his cock out and licking around the tip, stroking him until he was completely hard. Ryan had let one hand drift up under Brendon's shirt and curl around the bottom of his rib cage, gripping gently with his other hand guiding Brendon's cock between his lips.
He'd kept sucking, working Brendon over thoroughly, and when Brendon started breathing heavily Ryan didn't switch to just his hands, he still just kept sucking Brendon's cock, making quiet little noises like he was getting off on it, getting off on Brendon's dick in his mouth. When Brendon came, he swallowed like it wasn't a big deal at all.
Ryan never mentioned anything like that before he just decided to start randomly making out with Brendon in the back of their van or in bathrooms at venues when they could manage to find one with a door that locked reliably.
Brendon snapped out of his reverie as the van pulled to a stop at a gas station, blinking.
"Hey," Brent said. He was leaning over the back of the last bench, eyeing Brendon with a look on his face like a grownup facing down a toddler on the cusp of a temper tantrum. It made Brendon want to smack him that much more. "I'm gonna go grab some munchies, you want anything?"
"Uhh, yeah," Brendon said, rubbing under his eyes. "Uuuughh, my kingdom for a bed that stays still. Uh, just get me some crackers or something, I don't care. I'm hungry, though. If the sandwiches don't look nasty then egg salad's cool."
"'Kay," Brent said, crawling out of the van. Ryan sat up and closed the door behind him.
"Ughh, thanks," Brendon said, standing up as best he can and tumbling into the seat next to Ryan. "I hate it when he leaves the door open. He lets all the warm out."
"We could probably do with a good airing out," Ryan said with a wrinkle of his nose. Brendon wouldn't know. Brendon couldn't fucking smell anything because he was always sick.
"I'd rather be warm than smell nice," Brendon said truthfully.
"I think you manage both pretty well," Ryan said, leaning in for a quick kiss, glance darting around nervously when he pulled back, making sure they weren't seen. Evidently they weren't, because he leaned in and kissed Brendon again, deeper this time. Brendon smiled when Ryan pulled back. He had the weirdest look on his face, like he was proud of himself for something.
Brendon wasn't going to dig too deeply. Ryan had shitty luck: his dream came true, he got signed by his hero, and then his father finally started circling the drain. The timing couldn't be worse. Anytime Ryan was in a good enough mood to kiss him like this -- sweet and sure -- was one Brendon wasn't going to take for granted.
"We're going home soon," Ryan said when Brendon started pressing kisses down the line of his jaw, working towards the sensitive curve at the base of his neck. Ryan shivered hard when Brendon flicked his tongue over Ryan's skin. Brendon liked knowing Ryan's spots, liked playing with them even better. Ryan's hands curled into fists around the hem of Brendon's shirt, knuckles resting against his hips.
"Soon," Brendon said, pulling back to examine Ryan's face. Ryan had closed his eyes at some point. Brendon smiled and kissed Ryan's eyelids.
Brendon crawled back to the nest of blankets on the floor of the van, and wasn't surprised when Ryan didn't join him. Brendon was in a better mood, though, and it improved further when Brent passed along a decent-looking egg salad sandwich that ended up being palatable. Which was really all anyone could ask of gas station food, no matter where in the world you were.
--
The weather was finally tolerable, down in Georgia. They were a few weeks into the Truckstops and Statelines tour and managing okay. The record was selling really well, better than anyone had expected, and they'd been bumped from first to play to second and the possibility of moving up to third, right before Academy, had already been brought up.
"Hey, man." Brendon turned at the sound of the voice behind him. It was one of Academy's techs, Jon. Brendon didn't really know him, even though he'd been on the U.K. tour as well, but Ryan had spent some time with him. Ryan liked him. Brendon tried very hard to not be jealous about that. He mostly succeeded at not being a dick to Jon, at least.
"Hey, what can I do for you?" Brendon asked.
"Ahh, I'm kinda bored," Jon said. "We got nothing to do, so. I dunno. Nobody else wants to go for a walk, but I kinda want to take some pictures. I've never been in this part of the country before. Wanna come with me?"
"Sure," Brendon said, getting to his feet. He'd been considering a nap, actually, but nap meant bus and bus meant Ryan. Ryan got all twitchy about taking naps with Brendon, which was fucking irritating because Brendon hated sleeping alone and was perfectly willing to just sit next to him on the floor in the back lounge or the couch and pretend like him falling asleep was an accident if someone came into the lounge and saw them, but Ryan was just weird. As always.
"Pete takes naps with Patrick all the time," Brendon had said as an argument.
"Pete's not fucking a guy," Ryan had snapped.
"Well, neither are you," Brendon had shot back, because it was technically true, they'd pretty much stalled out at blowjobs. Ryan had recoiled, and Brendon had been to pissed off to let him finish spitting out his next argument before saying, "God, I know you and Pete used to take naps in the back lounge on the Fusion tour. Why is it a big fucking deal when I want to?"
Ryan had just thrown up his hands and stormed out, leaving Brendon with his jaw hanging open. Brendon was kind of avoiding him in the hope that Ryan would cave and apologize. It wasn't likely, but Brendon was tired of feeling like he was walking through a minefield whenever he had to deal with Ryan.
"So how's tour life treating you?" Jon asked amiably, pausing to snap a picture of the ground. His camera was nice. Brendon didn't know anything about cameras, but it looked like it was professional quality.
"Can't complain," Brendon said. Brent was doing enough of that for the whole tour, much less his own band.
"It gets easier," Jon offers.
"You've been doing this long?" Brendon asked.
"Nah, but I've known Tommy since forever and I've got a lot of touring friends, you know? I hear stories. It all evens up. You acclimate."
"Yeah, I hope so," Brendon muttered. "Hey, let's find a Starbucks. I need caffeine like no other."
--
"Can someone stand in for Brent?" Spencer shouted into the chaos behind the venue. "Come on, assholes, we're a fucking caravan of musicians. Someone can stand onstage and tune a fucking bass, all right?"
"Yeah, I got it," Jon said, standing up and tossing his half-empty beer cup at the Butcher, who sputtered and hefted it back. Jon dodged neatly. Brendon rubbed at his face, trying to force himself to wake up. He'd fallen asleep in the back lounge and had just barely stumbled out back to try and figure out what time it was. Brent missing was making him look good by comparison.
"You coming?" Spencer asked, turning to Brendon.
"Yeah," Brendon said through a yawn.
"Dude, you better snap out of it, Ryan's gonna pitch a fit if you're yawning through soundcheck," Spencer said.
"No, he won't," Brendon said. "He'll be too busy trying to kill Brent with his brain."
--
"Just calm down," Brendon said, trying to keep his voice soothing.
"I'm calm," Ryan said icily.
"Okay," Brendon said. "It's okay, we can ask Jon to cover tonight. He can study up on the basslines for the rest of today and we'll just play the easy ones, all right?" Ryan took a deep breath. Brendon cupped his hands around Ryan's neck. Ryan closed his eyes and tipped his head down for a kiss. Brendon took a deep breath and pressed his lips to Ryan's, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling back and holding his arm out for Ryan to link up with his own, leading him from the alcove they'd hidden in to the front of the gas station's shop, where Jon was browsing through a rack of tacky-looking romance novels with a serious look on his face.
"Hey," Brendon said as he tapped Jon's shoulder.
"Hey, man," Jon said. "Ryan, dude, I got the best book ever for you." He held it up. Brendon couldn't even read the title, because he was too busy focusing on the absurd cover art. It was a woman sprawled dramatically on a chaise lounge, legs wrapped around a shirtless guy's waist. She looked like she was trying to get away, though, which made no sense at all, because she was trapping him with her thighs. I will never understand romance novels, Brendon thought.
"That looks like the worst book ever written," Ryan said tonelessly.
"I know, right?" Jon said with a broad grin.
"So we need a favour," Ryan said, crossing his arms. Brendon tugged his arm free, rolling his eyes. "We need you to play for us tonight. Bass."
"Is Brent okay?" Jon asked, putting the books back and turning to them with a frown.
"He managed to not get on the bus, I don't fucking know," Ryan said. "We all thought he was in his bunk, but he just left his laptop in there playing a movie. So he's stranded a couple hours back and he won't be at the venue in time. Brendon has the tabs for our songs and we can run through them in the back lounge. If you're, you know. Up to it. It's cool if you're not, we can figure something out." Ryan massaged his temples, looking exhausted and ready to give in. Brendon wanted to wrap his arms around Ryan and kiss his neck until he smiled and then take a long hot shower and curl up next to him in a warm bed and just sleep for a few weeks. It looked like Ryan could use it. Brendon sure could.
"Yeah, no, it's no problem," Jon said, folding Ryan into a hug. Brendon bit on the inside of his cheek until it started to bleed and then had to switch to the other one to keep himself from doing something stupid.
--
"I don't care if the ghost of motherfucking Elvis himself asked you to come with him, you don't leave the bus at call time," Spencer shouted.
"You're being such an asshole," Brent snapped. "I told you, Brendon came and got me out of my bunk and said there was a problem with the tires and we were delayed for a while. We just went into the fucking drugstore, all right? And then I thought someone would maybe, I don't know, call me before you drove off to another state, so I didn't go back to the bus because I wanted to get something for my grandmother, okay?"
"You're so full of shit," Ryan said. "Brendon was here."
"Yeah, after the drugstore," Brent said stubbornly. "But he came and got me out of my bunk and asked me to go with him to the CVS, and then I lost him in the store, but I figured if it was a problem, my phone was on. Which it was."
"I didn't go to CVS," Brendon said, sitting up. "Ryan, tell him. We were in the back lounge watching a movie the whole time. I didn't leave. Bill woke me up at ass o'clock when he broke that bowl in the kitchen, and then I went into the back and watched Lord of the Rings with Ryan. And then the bus started moving, and I fell asleep and Spencer woke me up when we realized you weren't on the damn bus. Ryan, back me up here. I didn't even get off the bus til we made it to the fucking venue."
"He's right," Ryan said tightly.
"If you're going to lie to cover your ass at least give us a little credit and don't be a moron about it," Spencer said.
"Oh, fuck you, I'm not lying," Brent said. "God. It was one show."
"You're late for soundcheck a lot," Ryan said. He leaned against the wall, his weight shifting to the right side of his body, and somehow it looked like a threat.
"When you're there," Spencer said, arms folded and face tight, closed-off.
"It's soundcheck, it's not a big deal," Brent said. "And Brendon practically sleeps through it."
"No, it's a big fucking deal, Brent, and I don't sleep through soundcheck," Brendon snarled. "We're the youngest band on this tour. We got signed less than a year ago. It's practically a co-headlining tour now, and we've got an actual headlining tour coming up. Two, in fact. We're the golden boys of the label right now and I don't really feel like playing that stereotype. How do you think it makes us look when you don't show up? When you're late? It looks fucking unprofessional, and it looks like you don't give a shit, and it looks ungrateful, and it looks arrogant as hell. We are so Goddamn lucky we got this deal with this label and you are screwing us into the ground."
The silence was so loud Brendon swore he could hear Ryan's heartbeat, almost drowned out by the pounding of his own.
--
"How are things with Brent?" Jon asked carefully as he handed Brendon an iced coffee.
"Bad," Brendon said bluntly. "He basically told us that we're cruel bastards who have ganged up on him for shits and giggles. And then he accused us of trying to kick him out of the band."
"What the fuck?"
"I don't know. He thinks we're angling for more money by ditching him so it's a three-way split instead of a four-way. Which is complete bullshit, by the way," Brendon said.
"What are you going to do?" Jon asked.
Brendon stirred some sugar into his coffee moodily. "I don't fucking know. We haven't had a real break since Christmas, and it doesn't look like we're getting one til next Christmas. The U.S. headliner doesn't start until June, but May's full up with promo shit, and we'll need to practice for the headliner. I kind of feel like we need to really kick ass and tour as much as we can right now while we're riding this wave, you know, opportunity knocking and all that, but. Jesus, Jon, we might not be a band if we don't get some time to decompress or something."
"I know what you mean, though. You gotta tour when you're hot, and you guys are hot right now." Jon said.
"I'm hot always, they just happened to get lucky," Brendon said, crunching ice. Jon laughed. It was a polite laugh, but at least he bothered to be polite, Brendon thought. "Hey, I'm going to miss you when the tour's over," Brendon said in the lull that followed, kind of surprised to realize that he meant it.
"You know how to reach me," Jon said easily. "Keep in touch, dude."
"Will do," Brendon said. Talking to Jon had probably kept him sane. His band was short on sanity at the moment.
--
"The plan is to make England our bitch while we're here and not kill Brent in his sleep, and so far we are victorious on both counts. Boo and yah, motherfucker," Brendon said to Jon. "Hey, did you know the pay phones here have hooker ads? I love this country."
"So you're okay with killing Brent while he's awake, then?" Jon asked. Brendon leaned against the wall of the phone booth, sighing.
"I don't know, man, we're all fucking miserable," Brendon admitted. "Something's gotta give."
"Did he ever apologize for just ditching out on that one show last tour?"
"No! And it's crazy, dude, he keeps insisting that I woke him up and took him to the CVS. I was in the back lounge with Ross the whole time, though."
"That's the weirdest lie I've ever heard," Jon said.
"Yeah, that's the thing. The whole point of an excuse is that it, you know, it actually excuses your fuckup. And Brent apologized for missing all the soundchecks, right, but he's never budged an inch on that show. He won't entertain the possibility that I didn't wake him up and take him off the bus," Brendon said.
"I don't get it," Jon said. Brendon can hear his frown.
"I don't get it either, but I think he really believes it," Brendon said.
--
Headlining in the U.K. was different from supporting someone else's headliner in the U.K. Brendon thought that he'd be really enjoying himself if it weren't for the whole Brent issue. Having an actual bus instead of a van that was all theirs was a definite step up, even if it was a tiny European tour bus.
Brent had kept almost entirely to himself for the first leg of the tour. He was on time for every soundcheck, for every performance, and he was never rude to anyone. But he made it clear he wanted nothing but space.
Ryan, on the other hand, was gradually starting to act like a sane person. He was less prone to sudden unprovoked mood shifts and had stopped being annoyed with Brendon for no reason at all. There was something strangely resigned about his demeanor, but Brendon couldn't really fault him for being worn down. Brendon felt worn down, too.
He was even different when they were alone, kissing Brendon more confidently, not touching him like he was afraid Brendon would get up and leave if he didn't do everything perfectly. There was still that sharp line between Ryan when they were alone and Ryan when they were in view of anyone else, and it was grating. It felt too much like sneaking around, like shame, but Brendon was still willing to take whatever he got where Ryan was concerned.
They didn't get all that much time together because the three of them were taking turns rooming with Brent. Brent was probably entirely aware of what they were doing, and just wasn't making a fuss for whatever reason. Brendon was betting Brent wasn't saying anything about it because then he'd have to actually say something to one of them.
It made Brendon feel like an asshole, but he was kind of okay with the current arrangement. Better he not have to deal with Brent. Better they stay in a holding pattern as long as they could.
--
"Like a band-aid," Spencer said. Brendon mimicked ripping one off his forearm for Ryan's benefit. Ryan squared his shoulders and sat on the bed, scrubbing at his face.
"I don't want to do this," Ryan said.
"We don't really have a choice. He missed another show, and he didn't even bother to come up with an excuse for this one," Brendon said.
"You don't have to," Spencer said. "I'll do all the talking."
Ryan exhaled slowly. "You sure? He's -- was your friend, too."
"I'm so fucking mad right now he should be thankful I'm only kicking him out of the band," Spencer said darkly.
"You want me to stay?" Brendon asked.
"Yeah," Ryan said, voice rough. Brendon wrapped an arm around him, sitting next to him on the bed. Ryan let him.
"It's gonna be fine," Brendon said. He wasn't exactly sure that was true, but maybe saying it could make it be if he said it enough.
Ryan pulled away from him and lay down on the bed, fingers laced over his stomach, staring at the ceiling. Brendon curled up next to him gingerly. Ryan shifted away, holding his body tense. Brendon sat up, giving him space. Ryan didn't budge. Brendon bit his lip hard, trying to keep himself under control.
"Dialing," Spencer said. Ryan took a deep breath. Brendon reached over and touched his forearm cautiously. Ryan glanced up at him and nodded, a tight smile on his face.
"Put it on speaker," Ryan said quietly. Spencer obliged. The phone rang a few more times before Brent answered, sounding resigned. Brendon closed his eyes, fighting the urge to drift off to sleep. Wake me up in a year, he thought.
"Brent?" Brendon heard Spencer say. "This isn't working."
--
Brendon was going to start a political party whose only aim was to ban keys everywhere, because clearly they were Satan's playtoys. Clearly.
"Do you need some help with that?" Ryan asked from behind him, sounding amused.
"Bite me," Brendon grumbled, twisting the doorknob again. Ryan leaned down and bit Brendon's shoulder playfully. Brendon turned to grin at him. Ryan had been playful lately, when they were alone and he'd had some time to recover from the stress that was inevitable when you kicked someone out of your band. They were back home, now, though, and Ryan was staying with Brendon, and they had a few more days before Jon would be flying in to practice with them for the headliner. A few more days of doing whatever they wanted. Right now, Brendon wanted to be doing Ryan, but his apartment's door was a total cockblocker. "Open up, you piece of shit," he shouted at the door. Ryan tipped his head to the side and sank his teeth into Brendon's neck. Brendon shivered.
"Let me," Ryan said, voice low. Brendon handed him the key but didn't step away, letting Ryan crowd him into the apartment when he got the door open. Brendon led Ryan to the bedroom, glad he'd put clean sheets on the bed before they left on the last tour.
"Hey," he said quietly, kissing the tip of Ryan's nose. Ryan smiled at him, laying back on the bed. Brendon crawled over him, settling their hips together and grinding down. Ryan closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. Brendon tucked his face into the crook of Ryan's neck and sucked. Ryan rolled his hips under Brendon, hands sliding up under Brendon's shirt to stroke his back. Brendon sat up, tugged his shirt off and then leaned down to kiss Ryan hard, pushing Ryan's mouth open and fucking his tongue in slow and dirty. Ryan arched under him, nipping at his lip when Brendon's tongue slid out of his mouth. Brendon bit back, harder, and Ryan whined low in his throat.
Ryan spread his legs beneath Brendon, trying to wrap them around Brendon's hips and Brendon was suddenly, inexplicably reminded of the romance novel Jon picked out for Ryan back on the last tour, the day Brent went missing. He laughed against Ryan's mouth, then pulled back and grinned down at him.
"You're so fucking gorgeous," Brendon said. Ryan squirmed under him. "You're wearing too many clothes, though. That's a pretty serious character flaw in my book."
"Oh, well, lucky for me that it's so easily fixed," Ryan said, surging up and gripping at Brendon's hair, hand tight around the back of his neck. Brendon kissed him, taking Ryan's bottom lip between his teeth and stroking it with his tongue, slowly. Ryan squeezed at the back of his neck. Brendon climbed off him, reaching for his belt buckle and fumbling it open.
Ryan tugged his shirt up over his head quickly, dropping it over the side of the bed and getting to his feet to work his jeans off and kick them aside. He left his boxer briefs on, though, watching Brendon shimmy out of his skintight jeans, chuckling.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Brendon said, but he was grinning. Ryan leaned in and kissed Brendon's belly, pressing his hand flat to the smooth skin. Brendon reached down and carded fingers through Ryan's hair, tugging slightly.
Ryan hooked his fingers in Brendon's waistband and started working at getting them off. When they pooled at Brendon's feet on the ground, Ryan looked up at Brendon through his lashes and licked his lips.
"Yeah," Brendon breathed, staring at Ryan's mouth, lips swollen already. God, he'd spent so much time wondering if Ryan hated him, and then once they started -- whatever the hell it was they've been doing -- he'd felt like he had to talk Ryan down off a cliff every time he'd tried to kiss or touch him. It was easy now, easy like it never really had been between them, like Brendon had always wanted.
"Want me to suck you?" Ryan asked.
"Yeah," Brendon said. His mouth went dry, watching Ryan lick his hand and wrap it around Brendon's cock, stroking the length a few times before guiding it to his mouth. He licked just under the head, pressing his tongue up delicately and Brendon groaned, torn between letting his eyes close and losing himself in the sensations and keeping his gaze fixed on Ryan so that he wouldn't miss a second. He settled on watching as Ryan started taking more, lips gliding smoothly over Brendon's dick.
Ryan hummed quietly around Brendon's cock, sucking his way off until just the tip was in his mouth. He sucked once more then dipped his head down to lick at Brendon's balls. Brendon had to close his eyes at that point and just feel. Ryan kissed Brendon's stomach just under his navel, lapping his way down to Brendon's cock again.
Brendon let him work at it for a while, savouring the pooling of pleasure and want in his belly, hot and languid. He pushed his fingers into Ryan's hair again, pulling hard enough to drag him off his cock.
"Let me," Brendon said, and his voice barely sounded like him, low and strong. Ryan nodded, licking at his lips nervously. He still was so much more relaxed than Brendon was used to seeing him when they fooled around, but there was tension at his shoulders that Brendon wanted to work loose, tension that Ryan seemed to always carry with himself. They had time. The bus call for tomorrow was late, after noon. "On your stomach," Brendon said. Ryan quirked an eyebrow, but did as he was told, spreading his legs slightly. Brendon dug through his dresser's drawer until he found a bottle of lotion and he squirted some into his hands, rubbing them briskly together to warm them.
"What're you...?" Ryan murmured, letting it trail off.
"I'm gonna give you a back rub," Brendon said with a smirk.
Ryan snorted. "You're such a girl."
"Shut up and enjoy," Brendon said.
"Okay," Ryan said after a long pause. He folded his arms and rested his cheek on them. Brendon moved to straddle Ryan's hips slowly, bringing his weight down as incrementally as he could. "You're not going to break me."
"Maybe I want to take my time," Brendon countered, rubbing his hands together briskly to warm the lotion. He wrapped his hands around Ryan's shoulders, squeezing before pushing down, leaning his weight into the caress and stroking down to the small of Ryan's back. Ryan relaxed almost right away.
Brendon kept rubbing the lotion into Ryan's skin using long strokes, pushing his weight into each drag of his palms against Ryan's flesh. Brendon gripped the back of Ryan's neck loosely and then rubbed right down the curve of his spine, feeling the bumps of his vertebrae and hearing the bones shift and settle.
Ryan tipped his head to the side, keeping his eyes closed as his breathing steadied out, lengthened. Brendon slipped a hand up Ryan's back, curling his fingers over Ryan's shoulder and squeezing at the muscle there, rubbing his thumb slowly over the crook of Ryan's neck. He did the same thing with the other hand, cupping Ryan's shoulder and rubbing hard at the tense muscles.
Eventually Ryan went completely pliant beneath him, skin softening from the lotion. Brendon crawled off him and curled next to him, getting his face close to Ryan's and kissing him softly. Ryan let out a quiet noise in response and kissed him back, just their wet lips moving together.
"What do you want?" Brendon asked, whispering. "Tell me what you want."
"I want you to fuck me," Ryan whispered back. Brendon drew in a sharp breath. Ryan opened his eyes and looked at Brendon, eyes sleepy and curious.
"Yeah. Yeah," Brendon breathed out. "How do you want it?"
"I don't really care," Ryan said, kissing him again. Brendon chuckled into his mouth, reaching over to stroke the curve of Ryan's ass through his boxer briefs. Ryan sat up and pushed his underwear down, reaching down and taking his cock in his hand and stroking, almost absentmindedly.
"I want to watch for minute, is that okay?" Brendon asked. Ryan paused. "No, come on, just like -- don't do anything, just what you do, when you're alone."
Ryan smirked at Brendon, flicking his tongue out to wet his lips. He dropped his hand back to his cock and squeezed the base, rubbing down to the tip and circling the head with the pad of his thumb.
Brendon stayed still for a moment, content just to watch, then bent his head and took the head of Ryan's cock into his mouth and sucked his cock and his fingertips together. Ryan gasped, hips jerking forward, pushing his dick though the circle of his fingers and deeper into Brendon's mouth. Brendon managed to adjust quickly, sucking harder. He closed his eyes and focused on the taste of salt and skin, the scent of Ryan's sweat, the little noises he couldn't quite hold in, shuddering almost-moans.
Brendon let Ryan's cock slip from his mouth and sat back on his heels, squeezing more lotion into his hands. "Lie back," he said, and Ryan did so, letting his legs fall open, bent at the knee with his hips canted up. Brendon crouched down low and nosed at Ryan's balls and further down, stopping just short of his hole but breathing hotly over the skin. Ryan shivered, goosebumps rising on the pale skin of his thighs.
"You smell good," Brendon said. Ryan raised his eyebrows, playing at impatience. "Yeah, yeah, I'm on it." Brendon slipped his hand between Ryan's thighs, rubbing over his hole in a slow circle with his thumb before pushing in, crooking it as he went. Ryan pushed down against it a little, and Brendon teased with the tip of his finger, working it in when Ryan stayed calm. So far Ryan was unlike Brendon had ever seen him, relaxed and quiet, hand working lazily over his cock as Brendon fingered him open. It was clear he was enjoying himself, want written broadly on his face and Brendon couldn't stop himself from feeling a thrill of pride, thinking, I did that.
"Ready?" Brendon asked, curling his fingers. Ryan tensed up, eyes closed still.
"It's been a while, so. Go slow, okay?" Ryan said quietly, catching Brendon's eye as if daring him to ask. Who, how long ago, when, how many times. Brendon wanted to know, but he kind of wanted to fuck Ryan a hell of a lot more than he wanted to know who already had.
"Course," Brendon said, leaning over the bed to get a condom out of his nightstand. He tore the packet open with his teeth and handed it over to Ryan, letting him smooth it over his dick. Ryan stroked him a few times, two-handed, momentarily captivating Brendon with the long graceful lengths of his fingers. "On your back okay?" Brendon asked. Ryan nodded, reaching up behind himself for a pillow to put under his hips. Brendon gripped the base of his dick, guiding himself slowly to Ryan's hole, sinking in as slowly as he could manage. Ryan groaned beneath him, grasping for Brendon's arms and squeezing.
Brendon rolled his hips once, slowly, just grinding in a little deeper and Ryan panted, digging his fingernails into Brendon's arms. Brendon couldn't bring himself to care, though, not with Ryan's ass tight around him, Ryan spread out and hungry right under him, everything he wanted.
Ryan whined a little when Brendon just kept circling his hips without pulling out at all, trying for more friction. Brendon slowly pulled out when Ryan started getting desperate in his squirming, pushing back in just as gradually. Brendon's pace sped up after a few languid thrusts, fucking Ryan faster, with more force. Ryan rose to meet each of his thrusts, arching onto Brendon's cock and groaning, not bothering to try to keep quiet.
"Touch yourself," Brendon said suddenly, surprised at how confident his voice sounded. "I want you to come like this, with me inside you."
Ryan let out a broken moan at Brendon's words, but got his hand around his cock, rubbing frantically as Brendon started losing control of his thrusts, skin slapping together. Brendon groaned loudly, slamming into Ryan, gasping, "Now, now, with me -- "
Ryan clenched down hard around Brendon's dick as he came, crying out and shuddering. Brendon managed to shove his cock deeper as he jerked through his orgasm. He couldn't stop his hips from still grinding, still working, right through the aftershocks, when everything was so bright it hurt him.
"Almost time for the headliner," Ryan said, breathless while Brendon panted against the skin of his neck. Brendon kissed him hard, sloppy, and then pulled out of Ryan's ass, yanking the condom off and tossing it in the vicinity of the trash can. Ryan laughed, almost giddy and Brendon couldn't not kiss him again, deeper this time again. He collapsed on top of Ryan, pulling away from the kiss.
Ryan rolled over, tipping him onto the floor, and Brendon burst into hysterical laughter when he hit the ground with a loud thump. "Help me back up," he said though the last of the giggles. Ryan offered him a hand up, and Brendon took it, tugging sharply and bringing Ryan down with him.
"Asshole," Ryan said, but there was no venom. He dipped his head down and bit at Brendon's nipple lightly. He curled up, tucking his legs over Brendon's and settling in like he didn't even care that they were sitting on the floor, naked and sweaty. Brendon felt a sharp pang of want in his chest, tightening his grip around Ryan.
"Ryan," Brendon said, clearing his throat. "I, uh. Did you want to talk about telling some people about -- about us? About this?"
Instantly, Ryan closed off. "Brendon, just don't, okay?"
"What?" Brendon said, frustrated. "God, why won't you ever talk about anything with me?"
"Because I never know if it's okay to or not," Ryan snapped. "You're Jekell and fucking Hyde with me. You made it really fucking clear to me that you don't want anyone knowing anything about us. And then you're reckless as shit and clingy, and then you yell at me when people make jokes about us, when you're the one who won't get your fucking hands off me in public. Which one is it, Brendon? You want romance or a fuckbuddy? 'Cause I'm frankly fine with either, but I'd like to know which it is at any given point in time."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Brendon said, completely lost. "I don't -- when did I tell -- what?" Ryan shoved away from him, breathing hard.
"You said, and I quote, word for word, don't let anyone know anything about us, Ryan, or we're going to lose the contract, the label will drop us and I can't lose this, we can only do this if you can swear you won't tell anyone anything ever for any reason."
Brendon didn't say anything for a moment, dumbfounded. "When the hell did I say that?"
"The first time we fucked," Ryan snarled, standing. Brendon reached up and grabbed Ryan's wrist, yanking him back.
"What are you talking about?" Brendon shouted, desperate. "I -- this is the first time, Ryan, when did we -- ?"
"Jesus Christ!" Ryan exploded, jerking away. "Right after the Nintendo Fusion tour was over! When my dad got checked into the hospital and you came and picked me up and then we went to Port of Subs, and then we went back to your apartment, I took a shower, and when I got out of the shower we fucked in your bed."
"I -- no," Brendon said weakly. "Wait, no! No, while you were in the shower I went over to my parents' to help them move Mason's shit. You can ask them, they had to send me a reminder email. I wasn't even at my apartment."
"You're so full of shit," Ryan said. "It's always like this with you. I don't ever fucking know what I'm going to get. We fucked, and then you acted like it never even happened half the time and I just -- I don't know what you want from me, Brendon!"
"I just want you," Brendon said helplessly. "I always have. Since -- since I met you." It hurt to admit, for the first time to himself or anyone else, when Ryan was looking like the only thing he wanted to do was punch Brendon.
"Fuck you," Ryan said. "God, if you changed your mind, you can just say that. But you don't get to just pretend that nothing ever happened and that we just start over from scratch because you want to, for whatever reason."
Ryan shoved Brendon away again, and this time Brendon didn't try to grab him again. Ryan tugged his pants on without bothering with underwear, fury evident in his every move. He jerked his shirt on, then spun to face Brendon.
"I'm fucking done, okay?" Ryan spat. "I'm done with you. Now we can pretend none of this ever happened and if you do otherwise I swear to God I will kill you and make it look like an accident."
Brendon nodded wordlessly.
"Good," Ryan said, taking a deep breath and standing up straight. "I'll see you at practice in a few days. I'm going to go stay at my dad's."
Ryan slammed the door shut behind him. Brendon sat down on the bed and cradled his head in his hands, utterly lost.
--
Brendon kept his head down for the next few days. Nobody called him except Pete and his mother, and he wasn't particularly inclined to talk to either of them.
When Brendon got back to his apartment after running a garbage bag full of dirty clothes to the laundromat, it was a bit of a shock to see himself sitting on the couch.
"Hey there, psycho boy," said the other Brendon.
"Um," Brendon said, and promptly blacked out.
--
Notes - Part One - Part Two - Part Three
--
"Merry fucking Christmas!" Brent shouted at Brendon through the front door. "Let me in, motherfucker!"
"Shut the fuck up!" Someone screamed from down the hall. Brendon looked up, squinting fuzzily. He and Ryan had fallen asleep in front of the TV again, apparently; it was light out and they were sprawled on the futon on the floor. Ryan was kind of spooning him. Ryan was also about as hot as the surface of the sun, Jesus Christ. Brendon wriggled away and stumbled to the door, dragging Brent in and ignoring his shrieking neighbours. Someone from the other end of the hall had joined in.
"Ryan, wake the hell up," Brent said, flopping on top of him.
Ryan mumbled something that might have been "piss off".
"Come on," Brent said, poking at his cheek. Ryan batted at his hand, brow furrowing.
"Okay, I'm getting the ice water," Brent said cheerfully.
"What the hell is up with you, dude?" Brendon asked, bemused. Brent grinned at him, leading the way to the kitchen.
"I dunno, like. It's Christmas, you know? It's good to be home. And instead of going back to school in two weeks we get to go to fucking England. Like. Come on. How is that even real?" Brent babbled as he rummaged through Brendon's cupboard, finally surfacing with a small pot, setting it in the sink and filling it with water.
"I wish I knew," Brendon said, shaking his head. "Are you seriously going to attack him with ice water? I, uh. You might want to reconsider that."
"Nah," Brent said, dismissing him with a wave. He hefted the pot up and headed back to the living room. "Seriously, he should get up anyway."
"You have fun with that," Brendon said skeptically, and went to go take a shower and hide. He locked the door for protection and didn't start running the water, listening at the door until there was a satisfying howl from the living room.
--
Spencer's mother volunteered to drive them to the airport the morning they left for England, so Brendon didn't bother waking up until she was actually at his front door. He and Ryan had both fallen asleep in loose jeans and hoodies on purpose so they wouldn't even have to get dressed before heading out. It was a total genius move. Brendon was proud of himself for thinking of it.
Brendon's and Brent's parents had shown up at the airport, greeting them cheerily even with the ungodly hour and pressing Christmas leftovers on them. Brendon had pointed out that they were more than halfway through January and that food leftover from Christmas was not something he necessarily wanted to be eating, like, a month after. Especially not meat. He was totally going to stick to the vegetarian thing this time.
"Food does go bad," he'd said helpfully, and gotten a couple solid smacks upside his head for his trouble.
"Why do you think I had so many boys?" his mother had asked. "Garbage disposal. We never composted because we never had any leftovers," she'd said to Spencer's mother.
Then they'd almost missed their flight since they waited at the wrong gate until Spencer thought to check their tickets against the display, and they didn't even have four seats together. Brent and Spencer ended up in the front of the plane, Brendon and Ryan in the back.
"You're so distant now," Brent said, mock-sincere, hand clapped over his chest. "God, you've just completely replaced me with Ryan, haven't you? You're breaking my heart."
Brent sniffled theatrically as Spencer made barfing faces behind him. Brendon laughed and threw a languid arm around Ryan's shoulders, pulling him close. "I upgraded, man," he said with a purposeful wiggle of his eyebrows. Ryan shoved him away. Brendon took it in stride. Ryan was never a touchy person with him where anyone could see. Brendon thought it was kind of a weird thing to assert your manliness on -- especially given how close Ryan tended to end up with Brendon when they were alone, but whatever. It wasn't something Brendon really knew how to talk about, and it was hard to get too annoyed when Ryan was actually paying attention to him again.
Once they took off, Ryan glanced over at Brendon. "I've never been out of the country before," he said quietly.
Brendon bent awkwardly in his seat, silently cursing the seatbelt symbol still glowing above his head, rummaging through his carry-on until he found a Tupperware container of mashed sweet potato and marshmallow salad. It had for bden written on the top in his mother's handwriting with a smiley face. When Brendon sat up, he curled into his chair, facing Ryan.
"Never? Not even, like, Mexico?" Brendon asked, peeling back the top and scooping his finger through the salad, sucking the gloop noisily.
"That's disgusting," Ryan told him. Brendon snickered and dipped his finger in again, shoving it in Ryan's face. Ryan scrunched up his face and tried to push Brendon away, but Brendon managed to stick his finger in Ryan's mouth.
"See?" he said smugly. He pushed his finger further into Ryan's mouth, which felt weird, all slick and wet and warm, but seriously. "It's just sweet potatoes and mini-marshmallows. Also known as the best food ever. There's pineapple mashed up in there, too."
Ryan lifted an eyebrow, wrapping his fingers around Brendon's wrist and sucking delicately on his finger. Brendon inhaled sharply, trying to stay still and not break the spell. Ryan tugged, drawing Brendon's finger out of his mouth until only the tip was still between his lips. Ryan set his teeth gently against Brendon's skin and swirled his tongue slowly. Brendon licked his lips nervously, biting at the inside of his cheek while Ryan took his finger back into his mouth, sucking harder.
Brendon squirmed a little in his seat, gaze locked with Ryan's. Ryan pulled Brendon's finger from his mouth and let the tip rest against his bottom lip, just -- just looking at Brendon. He wasn't saying anything.
"See?" Brendon said shakily, reaching down for more salad. Ryan smiled and opened his mouth a little. Brendon hesitated before slipping his finger back into Ryan's mouth. Ryan didn't hold his wrist this time, just dipped his head to suck Brendon's finger further into his mouth. Brendon shifted, curling his finger around Ryan's tongue. Ryan didn't take his eyes off Brendon.
--
"Hey, hey, no fighting in front of the kids," Tom shouted, barely able to get the words out from laughing so hard. William had one of the guys from The Junior Varsity in a headlock, Ned? Nick? Nick. Definitely Nick.
"You know they learn these things at home," Nick said, his voice muffled. "Think about the example you're setting! Violence only begets violence! Stop the cycle! Fuck the Man! In, fuck, get -- asshole -- someone -- "
"Switzerland, I'm Switzerland," Brendon said, holding his hands up and backing away hastily as Nick and William swerved close to him. Siska ducked behind Nick and somehow managed to get his belt undone and tug his pants down.
"Motherfucker!" Nick shouted. Everyone laughed. "This is sexual harassment, man, you are violating me! I was saving myself for Jesus!"
"I just can't live without you, baby," William said with a shimmy of his hips.
"William's totally winning," Brent said. "How is he winning? He's gotta weigh like four pounds. How? You're violating physics, here, man," Brent's voice raised to a shout at the end of his sentence.
"He's violating me!" Nick shrieked.
"Oh my God, this is going to be us," Spencer said, not bothering to hide his excitement. "I can't wait until we have a baby band to haze."
"Put it on your Christmas list for next year," Ryan said dryly.
"I want a little bitch boy for Christmas," Brendon sang, to the tune of "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas". Everyone cackled and Brendon beamed at them through the haze of exhaustion.
--
"Fish and chips time," Spencer cheered once they got their gear packed up. It was easier now that they were with a band that had a few techs who were nice enough to lend a hand.
"To the nearest pub!" Brendon shouted, jumping on Brent's back. Brent crumpled to the ground, laughing and flailing, trying to get Brendon off him. "Rise, noble steed! Onward to vittles!"
"I think we can lose them if we just walk fast," Ryan said to Spencer, looking up over the edge of his Sidekick.
"What are you even doing with that?" Brent asked. "I know you're not getting service here. Why did you even bring it, dude?"
"I told him that his messages to Pete weren't gonna go through on sheer force of will, but you know Ryan, he's young and stupid," Spencer said. He offered Brendon a hand up. Brendon shook his head, shifting his weight over Brent's back and biting the inside of his cheek.
"Come on, we can do this," he said, gripping handfuls of Brent's shirt and tugging. "I believe in you!"
"I am not carrying you," Brent grunted.
"Yes you are," Brendon said. Brent reached around and pinched the inside of Brendon's thigh, hard, and Brendon jumped, sprawling inelegantly on the freezing pavement. "Or, okay, I can walk."
They had no idea where they were or where they were going, but if Brendon had learned anything about the U.K., it was that if you walked in any one direction for long enough, you were sure to hit a pub. They were keeping track of how long they had to walk before they found one every night. So far the longest was five minutes.
Sure enough, they stumbled past one after just a few moments of hunching their shoulders against the cold. It was warm inside, and Brendon practically tackled a table.
"Someone get me hot chocolate," he said insistently. "I got the table."
"Yeah, you sure showed that table who's boss," Spencer said. Brent snorted and went off with him to the bar to order.
"Hey, I'm gonna go call home," Brent said after setting down water glasses and a mug of hot chocolate topped with a pile of whipped cream. "Spencer's babysitting the bartender until our food's up. I think he's ready to eat a person."
Brendon took a quick sip of his hot chocolate, trying to avoid burning his tongue and mostly succeeding. "Mmm," he said happily. He stuck his finger into the mug and stirred.
"You're so gross," Ryan said, flipping his Sidekick open. "Seriously, use a spoon, at least."
"Nah," Brendon said, sucking his finger clean. He swirled his spoon through the hot chocolate, getting the rest of the whipped cream mixed in, scooping up a good spoonful and holding it up to Ryan's lips.
"Hey, don't," Ryan said irritably, flinching away.
"Sorry," Brendon said. He stared down at his hot chocolate. I'm too tired to deal with this shit, he thought, propping his chin up on the heel of his clean hand. He wiped his finger off on his napkin, perking up as Spencer came with their food.
"Dude, I don't think it counts as vegetarian if you're eating those chips," Spencer said.
"They're fries, not chips," Brendon said automatically. "And they're just potatoes."
"I think they fry them with the fish, though," Spencer said through a mouthful. "Gahh, fuck -- ow, hot -- " Ryan smirked at him and started picking through the basket of fries.
"If you eat all the crispy ones I'm going to kill you in your sleep," Brendon said pleasantly. Ryan always fucking ate the best fries, the asshole. Brendon had been riding high on adrenaline when they'd gotten offstage, but now he was looking at a freezing trudge back to the van and a night of uncomfortable, unsatisfying sleep in the tiny British vehicle and he was just seriously not in the mood.
Ryan rolled his eyes. "They're all crispy." Brent came up to the table with a little bottle of Coke, picking up the biggest piece of fish and stuffing it in his mouth, recoiling and swearing at the heat.
"No," Brendon said, ignoring him. "I mean the ones that are kinda burned. You know. The good -- " he broke off to yawn widely. " -- good ones. Blah. Fuck it. I'm dead, guys, I'm going back to the van. Wake me up for soundcheck."
"Are you still jetlagged?" Brent said around his fish.
"Seafood," Spencer snickered. Ryan caught his eye and the two of them dissolved into hyena laughs. Brent made a face at Brendon, fumbling for his gloves and hat.
"Yeah," Brendon said, blinking hard in an attempt to clear his contacts. "I'm beat, seriously. I'm gonna just -- yep."
"Do you know where you're going?" Ryan asked.
"That way," Brendon said, pointing indiscriminately.
"Yeah, okay, I'll go with you," Ryan said, flipping the mitten top of his fingerless gloves over and arranging his hat carefully on his head.
"I'll bring you some crisps," Spencer said.
"Chips," Brendon said, annoyed. Ryan threw an arm around his shoulders and led him to the door. "I'm just going to pretend like I'm blind, okay?"
"What, like for fun?" Ryan asked. Brendon winced as the cold air hit them in a wave.
"I think my nose is gonna freeze off," Brendon said. "Yeah, it's like a game. I close my eyes and you lead me around. My brothers and I used to do it all the time."
"Right," Ryan said, but he left his arm around Brendon's shoulders.
Brendon tipped his head back, keeping his eyes closed. He lurched suddenly as the ground dropped.
"Um, step down," Ryan said, sheepish.
"Yep," Brendon said tiredly. Ryan squeezed his shoulders, stopping and turning him slightly, pushing his back up against something smooth and cold. Van, his brain supplied. Ryan's hand twisted around to rest at the curve of Brendon's neck, barely palpable through the thickness of his winter coat. Brendon kept his eyes closed, felt Ryan reach behind him to get the van door unlocked. Ryan nudged him inside, and Brendon crawled to the back, lying down. He didn't open his eyes.
"Hey, don't forget to take your contacts out," Ryan said quietly. Brendon grumbled but yanked them out, flicking them into the trash bag hooked over the back of the last row. He'd been wearing them for close enough to two weeks, whatever. Finding his contacts case and solution seemed like way too much work. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a way to make his legs fit in the cramped backseat. "Maybe try sitting up?" Ryan suggested. Brendon grunted, pushing his back against the seat and closing his eyes again.
"I'm so fucking tired," he said. Somehow, the van was kind of warm, so Brendon struggled his way out of his coat and kicked his dress shoes off, not caring about the scuffmarks he'd have to polish off in the morning. He heard Ryan shuffling alongside him, then the thump-thump of Ryan's shoes hitting the back wall of the van. Ryan reached over and ran his fingers through Brendon's hair tentatively, as though Brendon might spook and lash out. Brendon sighed instead, forcing a smile to his face, leaning into it. "You okay?" Brendon mumbled. Ryan relaxed a little, stroking down to the back of Brendon's head.
"Yeah," Ryan said, sounding surprised, petting the back of his neck. "Yeah, why?"
"Dunno," Brendon said. He yawned again, another wide, jaw-cracking gulp of air. Ryan shifted closer, resting his head on Brendon's shoulder lightly. Brendon put his arm around Ryan, and Ryan promptly let the full weight of his head rest against Brendon, shifting a little to get closer. Brendon rubbed his back reassuringly. Ryan needed that kind of thing, needed comfort.
"I'm kind of homesick," Ryan admitted after a long pause. "It's -- I don't know. I miss the U.S. It's stupid."
"We'll be back soon," Brendon said. Ryan hummed in response, tucking his nose into the curve of Brendon's neck. His nose was freezing but Brendon was too tired to even tense up. After a moment, Ryan tipped his head back and pressed a soft kiss to Brendon's neck, waiting a few heartbeats before nuzzling the underside of his jaw. Brendon kept still, not sure what Ryan was expecting him to do. Ryan considered him for a long moment, and then, with a sudden burst of decisiveness, he reached up and cupped Brendon's cheek, guiding his head down, his mouth to Ryan's.
Brendon wasn't even thinking, just reacting; just kissing back because -- well. Ryan was kissing him, and his hand was resting lightly on Brendon's cheek, thumb stroking almost hesitantly. Brendon rested his free hand on Ryan's leg, trying to encourage him, barely able to think through the exhaustion.
Ryan tugged on Brendon's lower lip with his teeth, coaxing his mouth open and dipping his tongue between Brendon's lips, curling behind his teeth. Brendon grabbed clumsily for Ryan, trying to get closer, pushing his tongue alongside Ryan's. He sucked Ryan's tongue into his mouth, drifting along as they kissed lazily. Ryan made a pleased noise and Brendon hummed back at him.
Ryan pulled back, pressing their foreheads together. Brendon licked his lips, tongue brushing against Ryan's parted lips.
"I don't," Brendon said, shaking his head a little in confusion.
"Let's just go to sleep, okay?" Ryan said, dropping one more lingering kiss to Brendon's mouth.
"Mmm," Brendon mumbled. Ryan draped his legs over Brendon's lap and curled in closer.
--
"Who the fuck ate the last of my cereal?" Brendon snapped, rooting through the snacks bag at the back of the van. They hit a pothole and he banged his head against the window. "Ow."
They were gearing up to play the last show on the tour, and Brendon kind of hated everything. He hadn't been sleeping well because it was too cold and Ryan kept being weird, and seriously he was just ready to go home, but they weren't even going home in between tours. The tour started in Michigan and then they had to drive up into Toronto, and Brendon was so completely sick of being cold and tired and cramped. He was ready to go spend some time with some new and different people, but they'd be back with Academy for the next tour, which was going to go on for approximately forever. Brendon liked the Academy guys, but they were pretty heavy into parties and Ryan wasn't in a particularly tolerant mood. Nobody had managed to get in touch with his mother, and his father was still in the hospital.
Brendon was just done. Done with everything. Ryan wouldn't talk to him about anything, but every time they were alone he'd crawl into Brendon's space and tilt his head, like he was asking permission. For what, Brendon still wasn't entirely sure. He had an idea, obviously, but he was kind of bewildered by the attention. Brendon didn't know whether it was Ryan experimenting with boys or experimenting with him and he really didn't want to be someone's bicurious phase. And in any case, Pete was supposed to have been Ryan's bicurious phase. If it was even over. Ryan was still emailing Pete compulsively whenever they made it to a venue with internet access.
In any case, Ryan didn't kiss him like someone unused to kissing boys. He didn't touch Brendon like someone who didn't know how to handle another person's cock.
They had a hotel room a week into tour, just the two of them in a cramped room, one bed, and Ryan had pushed him back until his knees hit the bed and he'd sat down heavily. Ryan had dropped to his knees and worked Brendon's pants open, getting his cock out and licking around the tip, stroking him until he was completely hard. Ryan had let one hand drift up under Brendon's shirt and curl around the bottom of his rib cage, gripping gently with his other hand guiding Brendon's cock between his lips.
He'd kept sucking, working Brendon over thoroughly, and when Brendon started breathing heavily Ryan didn't switch to just his hands, he still just kept sucking Brendon's cock, making quiet little noises like he was getting off on it, getting off on Brendon's dick in his mouth. When Brendon came, he swallowed like it wasn't a big deal at all.
Ryan never mentioned anything like that before he just decided to start randomly making out with Brendon in the back of their van or in bathrooms at venues when they could manage to find one with a door that locked reliably.
Brendon snapped out of his reverie as the van pulled to a stop at a gas station, blinking.
"Hey," Brent said. He was leaning over the back of the last bench, eyeing Brendon with a look on his face like a grownup facing down a toddler on the cusp of a temper tantrum. It made Brendon want to smack him that much more. "I'm gonna go grab some munchies, you want anything?"
"Uhh, yeah," Brendon said, rubbing under his eyes. "Uuuughh, my kingdom for a bed that stays still. Uh, just get me some crackers or something, I don't care. I'm hungry, though. If the sandwiches don't look nasty then egg salad's cool."
"'Kay," Brent said, crawling out of the van. Ryan sat up and closed the door behind him.
"Ughh, thanks," Brendon said, standing up as best he can and tumbling into the seat next to Ryan. "I hate it when he leaves the door open. He lets all the warm out."
"We could probably do with a good airing out," Ryan said with a wrinkle of his nose. Brendon wouldn't know. Brendon couldn't fucking smell anything because he was always sick.
"I'd rather be warm than smell nice," Brendon said truthfully.
"I think you manage both pretty well," Ryan said, leaning in for a quick kiss, glance darting around nervously when he pulled back, making sure they weren't seen. Evidently they weren't, because he leaned in and kissed Brendon again, deeper this time. Brendon smiled when Ryan pulled back. He had the weirdest look on his face, like he was proud of himself for something.
Brendon wasn't going to dig too deeply. Ryan had shitty luck: his dream came true, he got signed by his hero, and then his father finally started circling the drain. The timing couldn't be worse. Anytime Ryan was in a good enough mood to kiss him like this -- sweet and sure -- was one Brendon wasn't going to take for granted.
"We're going home soon," Ryan said when Brendon started pressing kisses down the line of his jaw, working towards the sensitive curve at the base of his neck. Ryan shivered hard when Brendon flicked his tongue over Ryan's skin. Brendon liked knowing Ryan's spots, liked playing with them even better. Ryan's hands curled into fists around the hem of Brendon's shirt, knuckles resting against his hips.
"Soon," Brendon said, pulling back to examine Ryan's face. Ryan had closed his eyes at some point. Brendon smiled and kissed Ryan's eyelids.
Brendon crawled back to the nest of blankets on the floor of the van, and wasn't surprised when Ryan didn't join him. Brendon was in a better mood, though, and it improved further when Brent passed along a decent-looking egg salad sandwich that ended up being palatable. Which was really all anyone could ask of gas station food, no matter where in the world you were.
--
The weather was finally tolerable, down in Georgia. They were a few weeks into the Truckstops and Statelines tour and managing okay. The record was selling really well, better than anyone had expected, and they'd been bumped from first to play to second and the possibility of moving up to third, right before Academy, had already been brought up.
"Hey, man." Brendon turned at the sound of the voice behind him. It was one of Academy's techs, Jon. Brendon didn't really know him, even though he'd been on the U.K. tour as well, but Ryan had spent some time with him. Ryan liked him. Brendon tried very hard to not be jealous about that. He mostly succeeded at not being a dick to Jon, at least.
"Hey, what can I do for you?" Brendon asked.
"Ahh, I'm kinda bored," Jon said. "We got nothing to do, so. I dunno. Nobody else wants to go for a walk, but I kinda want to take some pictures. I've never been in this part of the country before. Wanna come with me?"
"Sure," Brendon said, getting to his feet. He'd been considering a nap, actually, but nap meant bus and bus meant Ryan. Ryan got all twitchy about taking naps with Brendon, which was fucking irritating because Brendon hated sleeping alone and was perfectly willing to just sit next to him on the floor in the back lounge or the couch and pretend like him falling asleep was an accident if someone came into the lounge and saw them, but Ryan was just weird. As always.
"Pete takes naps with Patrick all the time," Brendon had said as an argument.
"Pete's not fucking a guy," Ryan had snapped.
"Well, neither are you," Brendon had shot back, because it was technically true, they'd pretty much stalled out at blowjobs. Ryan had recoiled, and Brendon had been to pissed off to let him finish spitting out his next argument before saying, "God, I know you and Pete used to take naps in the back lounge on the Fusion tour. Why is it a big fucking deal when I want to?"
Ryan had just thrown up his hands and stormed out, leaving Brendon with his jaw hanging open. Brendon was kind of avoiding him in the hope that Ryan would cave and apologize. It wasn't likely, but Brendon was tired of feeling like he was walking through a minefield whenever he had to deal with Ryan.
"So how's tour life treating you?" Jon asked amiably, pausing to snap a picture of the ground. His camera was nice. Brendon didn't know anything about cameras, but it looked like it was professional quality.
"Can't complain," Brendon said. Brent was doing enough of that for the whole tour, much less his own band.
"It gets easier," Jon offers.
"You've been doing this long?" Brendon asked.
"Nah, but I've known Tommy since forever and I've got a lot of touring friends, you know? I hear stories. It all evens up. You acclimate."
"Yeah, I hope so," Brendon muttered. "Hey, let's find a Starbucks. I need caffeine like no other."
--
"Can someone stand in for Brent?" Spencer shouted into the chaos behind the venue. "Come on, assholes, we're a fucking caravan of musicians. Someone can stand onstage and tune a fucking bass, all right?"
"Yeah, I got it," Jon said, standing up and tossing his half-empty beer cup at the Butcher, who sputtered and hefted it back. Jon dodged neatly. Brendon rubbed at his face, trying to force himself to wake up. He'd fallen asleep in the back lounge and had just barely stumbled out back to try and figure out what time it was. Brent missing was making him look good by comparison.
"You coming?" Spencer asked, turning to Brendon.
"Yeah," Brendon said through a yawn.
"Dude, you better snap out of it, Ryan's gonna pitch a fit if you're yawning through soundcheck," Spencer said.
"No, he won't," Brendon said. "He'll be too busy trying to kill Brent with his brain."
--
"Just calm down," Brendon said, trying to keep his voice soothing.
"I'm calm," Ryan said icily.
"Okay," Brendon said. "It's okay, we can ask Jon to cover tonight. He can study up on the basslines for the rest of today and we'll just play the easy ones, all right?" Ryan took a deep breath. Brendon cupped his hands around Ryan's neck. Ryan closed his eyes and tipped his head down for a kiss. Brendon took a deep breath and pressed his lips to Ryan's, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling back and holding his arm out for Ryan to link up with his own, leading him from the alcove they'd hidden in to the front of the gas station's shop, where Jon was browsing through a rack of tacky-looking romance novels with a serious look on his face.
"Hey," Brendon said as he tapped Jon's shoulder.
"Hey, man," Jon said. "Ryan, dude, I got the best book ever for you." He held it up. Brendon couldn't even read the title, because he was too busy focusing on the absurd cover art. It was a woman sprawled dramatically on a chaise lounge, legs wrapped around a shirtless guy's waist. She looked like she was trying to get away, though, which made no sense at all, because she was trapping him with her thighs. I will never understand romance novels, Brendon thought.
"That looks like the worst book ever written," Ryan said tonelessly.
"I know, right?" Jon said with a broad grin.
"So we need a favour," Ryan said, crossing his arms. Brendon tugged his arm free, rolling his eyes. "We need you to play for us tonight. Bass."
"Is Brent okay?" Jon asked, putting the books back and turning to them with a frown.
"He managed to not get on the bus, I don't fucking know," Ryan said. "We all thought he was in his bunk, but he just left his laptop in there playing a movie. So he's stranded a couple hours back and he won't be at the venue in time. Brendon has the tabs for our songs and we can run through them in the back lounge. If you're, you know. Up to it. It's cool if you're not, we can figure something out." Ryan massaged his temples, looking exhausted and ready to give in. Brendon wanted to wrap his arms around Ryan and kiss his neck until he smiled and then take a long hot shower and curl up next to him in a warm bed and just sleep for a few weeks. It looked like Ryan could use it. Brendon sure could.
"Yeah, no, it's no problem," Jon said, folding Ryan into a hug. Brendon bit on the inside of his cheek until it started to bleed and then had to switch to the other one to keep himself from doing something stupid.
--
"I don't care if the ghost of motherfucking Elvis himself asked you to come with him, you don't leave the bus at call time," Spencer shouted.
"You're being such an asshole," Brent snapped. "I told you, Brendon came and got me out of my bunk and said there was a problem with the tires and we were delayed for a while. We just went into the fucking drugstore, all right? And then I thought someone would maybe, I don't know, call me before you drove off to another state, so I didn't go back to the bus because I wanted to get something for my grandmother, okay?"
"You're so full of shit," Ryan said. "Brendon was here."
"Yeah, after the drugstore," Brent said stubbornly. "But he came and got me out of my bunk and asked me to go with him to the CVS, and then I lost him in the store, but I figured if it was a problem, my phone was on. Which it was."
"I didn't go to CVS," Brendon said, sitting up. "Ryan, tell him. We were in the back lounge watching a movie the whole time. I didn't leave. Bill woke me up at ass o'clock when he broke that bowl in the kitchen, and then I went into the back and watched Lord of the Rings with Ryan. And then the bus started moving, and I fell asleep and Spencer woke me up when we realized you weren't on the damn bus. Ryan, back me up here. I didn't even get off the bus til we made it to the fucking venue."
"He's right," Ryan said tightly.
"If you're going to lie to cover your ass at least give us a little credit and don't be a moron about it," Spencer said.
"Oh, fuck you, I'm not lying," Brent said. "God. It was one show."
"You're late for soundcheck a lot," Ryan said. He leaned against the wall, his weight shifting to the right side of his body, and somehow it looked like a threat.
"When you're there," Spencer said, arms folded and face tight, closed-off.
"It's soundcheck, it's not a big deal," Brent said. "And Brendon practically sleeps through it."
"No, it's a big fucking deal, Brent, and I don't sleep through soundcheck," Brendon snarled. "We're the youngest band on this tour. We got signed less than a year ago. It's practically a co-headlining tour now, and we've got an actual headlining tour coming up. Two, in fact. We're the golden boys of the label right now and I don't really feel like playing that stereotype. How do you think it makes us look when you don't show up? When you're late? It looks fucking unprofessional, and it looks like you don't give a shit, and it looks ungrateful, and it looks arrogant as hell. We are so Goddamn lucky we got this deal with this label and you are screwing us into the ground."
The silence was so loud Brendon swore he could hear Ryan's heartbeat, almost drowned out by the pounding of his own.
--
"How are things with Brent?" Jon asked carefully as he handed Brendon an iced coffee.
"Bad," Brendon said bluntly. "He basically told us that we're cruel bastards who have ganged up on him for shits and giggles. And then he accused us of trying to kick him out of the band."
"What the fuck?"
"I don't know. He thinks we're angling for more money by ditching him so it's a three-way split instead of a four-way. Which is complete bullshit, by the way," Brendon said.
"What are you going to do?" Jon asked.
Brendon stirred some sugar into his coffee moodily. "I don't fucking know. We haven't had a real break since Christmas, and it doesn't look like we're getting one til next Christmas. The U.S. headliner doesn't start until June, but May's full up with promo shit, and we'll need to practice for the headliner. I kind of feel like we need to really kick ass and tour as much as we can right now while we're riding this wave, you know, opportunity knocking and all that, but. Jesus, Jon, we might not be a band if we don't get some time to decompress or something."
"I know what you mean, though. You gotta tour when you're hot, and you guys are hot right now." Jon said.
"I'm hot always, they just happened to get lucky," Brendon said, crunching ice. Jon laughed. It was a polite laugh, but at least he bothered to be polite, Brendon thought. "Hey, I'm going to miss you when the tour's over," Brendon said in the lull that followed, kind of surprised to realize that he meant it.
"You know how to reach me," Jon said easily. "Keep in touch, dude."
"Will do," Brendon said. Talking to Jon had probably kept him sane. His band was short on sanity at the moment.
--
"The plan is to make England our bitch while we're here and not kill Brent in his sleep, and so far we are victorious on both counts. Boo and yah, motherfucker," Brendon said to Jon. "Hey, did you know the pay phones here have hooker ads? I love this country."
"So you're okay with killing Brent while he's awake, then?" Jon asked. Brendon leaned against the wall of the phone booth, sighing.
"I don't know, man, we're all fucking miserable," Brendon admitted. "Something's gotta give."
"Did he ever apologize for just ditching out on that one show last tour?"
"No! And it's crazy, dude, he keeps insisting that I woke him up and took him to the CVS. I was in the back lounge with Ross the whole time, though."
"That's the weirdest lie I've ever heard," Jon said.
"Yeah, that's the thing. The whole point of an excuse is that it, you know, it actually excuses your fuckup. And Brent apologized for missing all the soundchecks, right, but he's never budged an inch on that show. He won't entertain the possibility that I didn't wake him up and take him off the bus," Brendon said.
"I don't get it," Jon said. Brendon can hear his frown.
"I don't get it either, but I think he really believes it," Brendon said.
--
Headlining in the U.K. was different from supporting someone else's headliner in the U.K. Brendon thought that he'd be really enjoying himself if it weren't for the whole Brent issue. Having an actual bus instead of a van that was all theirs was a definite step up, even if it was a tiny European tour bus.
Brent had kept almost entirely to himself for the first leg of the tour. He was on time for every soundcheck, for every performance, and he was never rude to anyone. But he made it clear he wanted nothing but space.
Ryan, on the other hand, was gradually starting to act like a sane person. He was less prone to sudden unprovoked mood shifts and had stopped being annoyed with Brendon for no reason at all. There was something strangely resigned about his demeanor, but Brendon couldn't really fault him for being worn down. Brendon felt worn down, too.
He was even different when they were alone, kissing Brendon more confidently, not touching him like he was afraid Brendon would get up and leave if he didn't do everything perfectly. There was still that sharp line between Ryan when they were alone and Ryan when they were in view of anyone else, and it was grating. It felt too much like sneaking around, like shame, but Brendon was still willing to take whatever he got where Ryan was concerned.
They didn't get all that much time together because the three of them were taking turns rooming with Brent. Brent was probably entirely aware of what they were doing, and just wasn't making a fuss for whatever reason. Brendon was betting Brent wasn't saying anything about it because then he'd have to actually say something to one of them.
It made Brendon feel like an asshole, but he was kind of okay with the current arrangement. Better he not have to deal with Brent. Better they stay in a holding pattern as long as they could.
--
"Like a band-aid," Spencer said. Brendon mimicked ripping one off his forearm for Ryan's benefit. Ryan squared his shoulders and sat on the bed, scrubbing at his face.
"I don't want to do this," Ryan said.
"We don't really have a choice. He missed another show, and he didn't even bother to come up with an excuse for this one," Brendon said.
"You don't have to," Spencer said. "I'll do all the talking."
Ryan exhaled slowly. "You sure? He's -- was your friend, too."
"I'm so fucking mad right now he should be thankful I'm only kicking him out of the band," Spencer said darkly.
"You want me to stay?" Brendon asked.
"Yeah," Ryan said, voice rough. Brendon wrapped an arm around him, sitting next to him on the bed. Ryan let him.
"It's gonna be fine," Brendon said. He wasn't exactly sure that was true, but maybe saying it could make it be if he said it enough.
Ryan pulled away from him and lay down on the bed, fingers laced over his stomach, staring at the ceiling. Brendon curled up next to him gingerly. Ryan shifted away, holding his body tense. Brendon sat up, giving him space. Ryan didn't budge. Brendon bit his lip hard, trying to keep himself under control.
"Dialing," Spencer said. Ryan took a deep breath. Brendon reached over and touched his forearm cautiously. Ryan glanced up at him and nodded, a tight smile on his face.
"Put it on speaker," Ryan said quietly. Spencer obliged. The phone rang a few more times before Brent answered, sounding resigned. Brendon closed his eyes, fighting the urge to drift off to sleep. Wake me up in a year, he thought.
"Brent?" Brendon heard Spencer say. "This isn't working."
--
Brendon was going to start a political party whose only aim was to ban keys everywhere, because clearly they were Satan's playtoys. Clearly.
"Do you need some help with that?" Ryan asked from behind him, sounding amused.
"Bite me," Brendon grumbled, twisting the doorknob again. Ryan leaned down and bit Brendon's shoulder playfully. Brendon turned to grin at him. Ryan had been playful lately, when they were alone and he'd had some time to recover from the stress that was inevitable when you kicked someone out of your band. They were back home, now, though, and Ryan was staying with Brendon, and they had a few more days before Jon would be flying in to practice with them for the headliner. A few more days of doing whatever they wanted. Right now, Brendon wanted to be doing Ryan, but his apartment's door was a total cockblocker. "Open up, you piece of shit," he shouted at the door. Ryan tipped his head to the side and sank his teeth into Brendon's neck. Brendon shivered.
"Let me," Ryan said, voice low. Brendon handed him the key but didn't step away, letting Ryan crowd him into the apartment when he got the door open. Brendon led Ryan to the bedroom, glad he'd put clean sheets on the bed before they left on the last tour.
"Hey," he said quietly, kissing the tip of Ryan's nose. Ryan smiled at him, laying back on the bed. Brendon crawled over him, settling their hips together and grinding down. Ryan closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. Brendon tucked his face into the crook of Ryan's neck and sucked. Ryan rolled his hips under Brendon, hands sliding up under Brendon's shirt to stroke his back. Brendon sat up, tugged his shirt off and then leaned down to kiss Ryan hard, pushing Ryan's mouth open and fucking his tongue in slow and dirty. Ryan arched under him, nipping at his lip when Brendon's tongue slid out of his mouth. Brendon bit back, harder, and Ryan whined low in his throat.
Ryan spread his legs beneath Brendon, trying to wrap them around Brendon's hips and Brendon was suddenly, inexplicably reminded of the romance novel Jon picked out for Ryan back on the last tour, the day Brent went missing. He laughed against Ryan's mouth, then pulled back and grinned down at him.
"You're so fucking gorgeous," Brendon said. Ryan squirmed under him. "You're wearing too many clothes, though. That's a pretty serious character flaw in my book."
"Oh, well, lucky for me that it's so easily fixed," Ryan said, surging up and gripping at Brendon's hair, hand tight around the back of his neck. Brendon kissed him, taking Ryan's bottom lip between his teeth and stroking it with his tongue, slowly. Ryan squeezed at the back of his neck. Brendon climbed off him, reaching for his belt buckle and fumbling it open.
Ryan tugged his shirt up over his head quickly, dropping it over the side of the bed and getting to his feet to work his jeans off and kick them aside. He left his boxer briefs on, though, watching Brendon shimmy out of his skintight jeans, chuckling.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Brendon said, but he was grinning. Ryan leaned in and kissed Brendon's belly, pressing his hand flat to the smooth skin. Brendon reached down and carded fingers through Ryan's hair, tugging slightly.
Ryan hooked his fingers in Brendon's waistband and started working at getting them off. When they pooled at Brendon's feet on the ground, Ryan looked up at Brendon through his lashes and licked his lips.
"Yeah," Brendon breathed, staring at Ryan's mouth, lips swollen already. God, he'd spent so much time wondering if Ryan hated him, and then once they started -- whatever the hell it was they've been doing -- he'd felt like he had to talk Ryan down off a cliff every time he'd tried to kiss or touch him. It was easy now, easy like it never really had been between them, like Brendon had always wanted.
"Want me to suck you?" Ryan asked.
"Yeah," Brendon said. His mouth went dry, watching Ryan lick his hand and wrap it around Brendon's cock, stroking the length a few times before guiding it to his mouth. He licked just under the head, pressing his tongue up delicately and Brendon groaned, torn between letting his eyes close and losing himself in the sensations and keeping his gaze fixed on Ryan so that he wouldn't miss a second. He settled on watching as Ryan started taking more, lips gliding smoothly over Brendon's dick.
Ryan hummed quietly around Brendon's cock, sucking his way off until just the tip was in his mouth. He sucked once more then dipped his head down to lick at Brendon's balls. Brendon had to close his eyes at that point and just feel. Ryan kissed Brendon's stomach just under his navel, lapping his way down to Brendon's cock again.
Brendon let him work at it for a while, savouring the pooling of pleasure and want in his belly, hot and languid. He pushed his fingers into Ryan's hair again, pulling hard enough to drag him off his cock.
"Let me," Brendon said, and his voice barely sounded like him, low and strong. Ryan nodded, licking at his lips nervously. He still was so much more relaxed than Brendon was used to seeing him when they fooled around, but there was tension at his shoulders that Brendon wanted to work loose, tension that Ryan seemed to always carry with himself. They had time. The bus call for tomorrow was late, after noon. "On your stomach," Brendon said. Ryan quirked an eyebrow, but did as he was told, spreading his legs slightly. Brendon dug through his dresser's drawer until he found a bottle of lotion and he squirted some into his hands, rubbing them briskly together to warm them.
"What're you...?" Ryan murmured, letting it trail off.
"I'm gonna give you a back rub," Brendon said with a smirk.
Ryan snorted. "You're such a girl."
"Shut up and enjoy," Brendon said.
"Okay," Ryan said after a long pause. He folded his arms and rested his cheek on them. Brendon moved to straddle Ryan's hips slowly, bringing his weight down as incrementally as he could. "You're not going to break me."
"Maybe I want to take my time," Brendon countered, rubbing his hands together briskly to warm the lotion. He wrapped his hands around Ryan's shoulders, squeezing before pushing down, leaning his weight into the caress and stroking down to the small of Ryan's back. Ryan relaxed almost right away.
Brendon kept rubbing the lotion into Ryan's skin using long strokes, pushing his weight into each drag of his palms against Ryan's flesh. Brendon gripped the back of Ryan's neck loosely and then rubbed right down the curve of his spine, feeling the bumps of his vertebrae and hearing the bones shift and settle.
Ryan tipped his head to the side, keeping his eyes closed as his breathing steadied out, lengthened. Brendon slipped a hand up Ryan's back, curling his fingers over Ryan's shoulder and squeezing at the muscle there, rubbing his thumb slowly over the crook of Ryan's neck. He did the same thing with the other hand, cupping Ryan's shoulder and rubbing hard at the tense muscles.
Eventually Ryan went completely pliant beneath him, skin softening from the lotion. Brendon crawled off him and curled next to him, getting his face close to Ryan's and kissing him softly. Ryan let out a quiet noise in response and kissed him back, just their wet lips moving together.
"What do you want?" Brendon asked, whispering. "Tell me what you want."
"I want you to fuck me," Ryan whispered back. Brendon drew in a sharp breath. Ryan opened his eyes and looked at Brendon, eyes sleepy and curious.
"Yeah. Yeah," Brendon breathed out. "How do you want it?"
"I don't really care," Ryan said, kissing him again. Brendon chuckled into his mouth, reaching over to stroke the curve of Ryan's ass through his boxer briefs. Ryan sat up and pushed his underwear down, reaching down and taking his cock in his hand and stroking, almost absentmindedly.
"I want to watch for minute, is that okay?" Brendon asked. Ryan paused. "No, come on, just like -- don't do anything, just what you do, when you're alone."
Ryan smirked at Brendon, flicking his tongue out to wet his lips. He dropped his hand back to his cock and squeezed the base, rubbing down to the tip and circling the head with the pad of his thumb.
Brendon stayed still for a moment, content just to watch, then bent his head and took the head of Ryan's cock into his mouth and sucked his cock and his fingertips together. Ryan gasped, hips jerking forward, pushing his dick though the circle of his fingers and deeper into Brendon's mouth. Brendon managed to adjust quickly, sucking harder. He closed his eyes and focused on the taste of salt and skin, the scent of Ryan's sweat, the little noises he couldn't quite hold in, shuddering almost-moans.
Brendon let Ryan's cock slip from his mouth and sat back on his heels, squeezing more lotion into his hands. "Lie back," he said, and Ryan did so, letting his legs fall open, bent at the knee with his hips canted up. Brendon crouched down low and nosed at Ryan's balls and further down, stopping just short of his hole but breathing hotly over the skin. Ryan shivered, goosebumps rising on the pale skin of his thighs.
"You smell good," Brendon said. Ryan raised his eyebrows, playing at impatience. "Yeah, yeah, I'm on it." Brendon slipped his hand between Ryan's thighs, rubbing over his hole in a slow circle with his thumb before pushing in, crooking it as he went. Ryan pushed down against it a little, and Brendon teased with the tip of his finger, working it in when Ryan stayed calm. So far Ryan was unlike Brendon had ever seen him, relaxed and quiet, hand working lazily over his cock as Brendon fingered him open. It was clear he was enjoying himself, want written broadly on his face and Brendon couldn't stop himself from feeling a thrill of pride, thinking, I did that.
"Ready?" Brendon asked, curling his fingers. Ryan tensed up, eyes closed still.
"It's been a while, so. Go slow, okay?" Ryan said quietly, catching Brendon's eye as if daring him to ask. Who, how long ago, when, how many times. Brendon wanted to know, but he kind of wanted to fuck Ryan a hell of a lot more than he wanted to know who already had.
"Course," Brendon said, leaning over the bed to get a condom out of his nightstand. He tore the packet open with his teeth and handed it over to Ryan, letting him smooth it over his dick. Ryan stroked him a few times, two-handed, momentarily captivating Brendon with the long graceful lengths of his fingers. "On your back okay?" Brendon asked. Ryan nodded, reaching up behind himself for a pillow to put under his hips. Brendon gripped the base of his dick, guiding himself slowly to Ryan's hole, sinking in as slowly as he could manage. Ryan groaned beneath him, grasping for Brendon's arms and squeezing.
Brendon rolled his hips once, slowly, just grinding in a little deeper and Ryan panted, digging his fingernails into Brendon's arms. Brendon couldn't bring himself to care, though, not with Ryan's ass tight around him, Ryan spread out and hungry right under him, everything he wanted.
Ryan whined a little when Brendon just kept circling his hips without pulling out at all, trying for more friction. Brendon slowly pulled out when Ryan started getting desperate in his squirming, pushing back in just as gradually. Brendon's pace sped up after a few languid thrusts, fucking Ryan faster, with more force. Ryan rose to meet each of his thrusts, arching onto Brendon's cock and groaning, not bothering to try to keep quiet.
"Touch yourself," Brendon said suddenly, surprised at how confident his voice sounded. "I want you to come like this, with me inside you."
Ryan let out a broken moan at Brendon's words, but got his hand around his cock, rubbing frantically as Brendon started losing control of his thrusts, skin slapping together. Brendon groaned loudly, slamming into Ryan, gasping, "Now, now, with me -- "
Ryan clenched down hard around Brendon's dick as he came, crying out and shuddering. Brendon managed to shove his cock deeper as he jerked through his orgasm. He couldn't stop his hips from still grinding, still working, right through the aftershocks, when everything was so bright it hurt him.
"Almost time for the headliner," Ryan said, breathless while Brendon panted against the skin of his neck. Brendon kissed him hard, sloppy, and then pulled out of Ryan's ass, yanking the condom off and tossing it in the vicinity of the trash can. Ryan laughed, almost giddy and Brendon couldn't not kiss him again, deeper this time again. He collapsed on top of Ryan, pulling away from the kiss.
Ryan rolled over, tipping him onto the floor, and Brendon burst into hysterical laughter when he hit the ground with a loud thump. "Help me back up," he said though the last of the giggles. Ryan offered him a hand up, and Brendon took it, tugging sharply and bringing Ryan down with him.
"Asshole," Ryan said, but there was no venom. He dipped his head down and bit at Brendon's nipple lightly. He curled up, tucking his legs over Brendon's and settling in like he didn't even care that they were sitting on the floor, naked and sweaty. Brendon felt a sharp pang of want in his chest, tightening his grip around Ryan.
"Ryan," Brendon said, clearing his throat. "I, uh. Did you want to talk about telling some people about -- about us? About this?"
Instantly, Ryan closed off. "Brendon, just don't, okay?"
"What?" Brendon said, frustrated. "God, why won't you ever talk about anything with me?"
"Because I never know if it's okay to or not," Ryan snapped. "You're Jekell and fucking Hyde with me. You made it really fucking clear to me that you don't want anyone knowing anything about us. And then you're reckless as shit and clingy, and then you yell at me when people make jokes about us, when you're the one who won't get your fucking hands off me in public. Which one is it, Brendon? You want romance or a fuckbuddy? 'Cause I'm frankly fine with either, but I'd like to know which it is at any given point in time."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Brendon said, completely lost. "I don't -- when did I tell -- what?" Ryan shoved away from him, breathing hard.
"You said, and I quote, word for word, don't let anyone know anything about us, Ryan, or we're going to lose the contract, the label will drop us and I can't lose this, we can only do this if you can swear you won't tell anyone anything ever for any reason."
Brendon didn't say anything for a moment, dumbfounded. "When the hell did I say that?"
"The first time we fucked," Ryan snarled, standing. Brendon reached up and grabbed Ryan's wrist, yanking him back.
"What are you talking about?" Brendon shouted, desperate. "I -- this is the first time, Ryan, when did we -- ?"
"Jesus Christ!" Ryan exploded, jerking away. "Right after the Nintendo Fusion tour was over! When my dad got checked into the hospital and you came and picked me up and then we went to Port of Subs, and then we went back to your apartment, I took a shower, and when I got out of the shower we fucked in your bed."
"I -- no," Brendon said weakly. "Wait, no! No, while you were in the shower I went over to my parents' to help them move Mason's shit. You can ask them, they had to send me a reminder email. I wasn't even at my apartment."
"You're so full of shit," Ryan said. "It's always like this with you. I don't ever fucking know what I'm going to get. We fucked, and then you acted like it never even happened half the time and I just -- I don't know what you want from me, Brendon!"
"I just want you," Brendon said helplessly. "I always have. Since -- since I met you." It hurt to admit, for the first time to himself or anyone else, when Ryan was looking like the only thing he wanted to do was punch Brendon.
"Fuck you," Ryan said. "God, if you changed your mind, you can just say that. But you don't get to just pretend that nothing ever happened and that we just start over from scratch because you want to, for whatever reason."
Ryan shoved Brendon away again, and this time Brendon didn't try to grab him again. Ryan tugged his pants on without bothering with underwear, fury evident in his every move. He jerked his shirt on, then spun to face Brendon.
"I'm fucking done, okay?" Ryan spat. "I'm done with you. Now we can pretend none of this ever happened and if you do otherwise I swear to God I will kill you and make it look like an accident."
Brendon nodded wordlessly.
"Good," Ryan said, taking a deep breath and standing up straight. "I'll see you at practice in a few days. I'm going to go stay at my dad's."
Ryan slammed the door shut behind him. Brendon sat down on the bed and cradled his head in his hands, utterly lost.
--
Brendon kept his head down for the next few days. Nobody called him except Pete and his mother, and he wasn't particularly inclined to talk to either of them.
When Brendon got back to his apartment after running a garbage bag full of dirty clothes to the laundromat, it was a bit of a shock to see himself sitting on the couch.
"Hey there, psycho boy," said the other Brendon.
"Um," Brendon said, and promptly blacked out.
--
Notes - Part One - Part Two - Part Three