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The One Where they Work at Dairy Queen
Warning: high sugar content.
Ryan never intended to spend a large part of his sophomore year working at Dairy Queen. But when he gets a facebook message from Pete Wentz, the most popular senior on campus, saying he's seen Ryan's "desperately seeking employment" status and that there's a job opening at the Dairy Queen he manages, Ryan isn't about to say no. True, the "frnd me so i cna see yr pics" should be slightly creepy, but... Pete Wentz. So anyways, that's how Ryan Ross, veritable poet and Kerouac devotee, ends up spending his Saturday nights scooping ice cream for drunk teenage hipsters.
Sadly, the substance free Saturday nights and drunk teenage hipsters aren't even the worst part of the job. That title belongs, wildly uncontested, to Ryan's annoying freshman coworker. Brendon wears pastel hoodies and ugly glasses, squirts softserve directly into his mouth on an hourly basis, and insists on blasting a mix of Disney and American Top 40. Ryan doesn't know which is worse: the fact that, despite all this, Pete Wentz seems to really like Brendon, or that after only two days of work, Ryan knows all the words to 'Big Girls Don't Cry'. It's kind of a toss up.
When Ryan actually thinks about it, one of the only good things about his job is that his best friend Spencer works at the Starbucks across the street and visits over his lunch break so they can bitch about their jobs. Most of their conversations go something along the lines of: "So I told him, no you can't have a MCFLURRY, does this look like a fucking McDonalds, and he STILL didn't get it," followed by a sympathetic nod and a, "Yeah, this one guy always orders a medium coffee, like, saying GRANDE isn't that hard." Then they'll share a long-suffering look and once again, come to the conclusion that other people suck. So yeah, it's a nice arrangement.
Except three weeks into the semester, Spencer suddenly starts really liking his job, so much so that his visits to Ryan become shorter and shorter and the bitching becomes pretty much nonexistant. Well, on Spencer's part at least. The whole situation makes absolutely no sense until Ryan meets Jon.
Ryan wants to hate Jon, he really really does and he really really should, because the first thing Jon does is order an Americone Dream McFlurry with a gummi bear mix-in (Ben & Jerry's, McDonald's, Coldstone, in that order) and then proceeds to sing the entire Aladdin soundtrack with Brendon, but he can't. It's basically impossible to hate Jon. Jon is hilarious and cool and works at Starbucks too and is pretty much a living breathing teddy bear. So even as his ears are being assaulted by the last strains of One Jump Ahead, Ryan finds himself digging under the counter for a package of gummi bears.
Spencer's newfound love for his job, well strike the B and replace it with an N, means that Ryan now has to spend most of his breaks alone with Brendon. Not that Brendon wasn't there before, it was just easier to ignore him. True, Pete stops by on occassion to 'check up on his employees', which Ryan quickly realizes actually means 'check out his employees', but most of the time it's just the two of them. And as set as Ryan is on avoiding any form of conversation, Brendon seems equally determined to bother him.
"If you were an ice cream flavor, you'd be strawberry," Brendon announces on a day when he's being particularly annoying. It's times like these that Ryan comes dangerously close to achieving the impossible: hating Jon. Ryan raises an eyebrow and watches Brendon spray an entire can of whipped cream onto his oreo blizzard before he asks the obvious question. "What?" Because, seriously, he's always thought of himself as a french vanilla, or at least something a little more refined than plain old strawberry. "Yeah, strawberry," Brendon answers. "I don't really know why, it just fits. Pete would be rocky road because he's crazy like that." He pauses to precariously place a cherry on his dessert heap. "So, what do you think I would be?"
"Cherry cordial," Ryan answers without hesitation, still annoyed at being categorized as strawberry, because what the fuck? And since when is 'it just fits' an acceptable answer? Even Cosmo gives better explanations than that. Not that Ryan would know anything about why he's a sultry summer. Brendon pauses over his concoction thoughtfully. "Really? Why?" Ryan shoots the heaping cup of ice cream a pointed look. "Because it's disgusting."
Brendon affects a pout, but Ryan sees the corners of his lips turn up in amusement. "You think I'm disgusting?" he asks in overly dramatic offense. "Yes," Ryan irritatedly informs his coworker, who just grins as he shovels another heaping spooful into his mouth. "Mmmm," Brendon comments blissfully around a mouthful of whipped cream and oreos, standing up to do a little dance that gives Ryan an eyefull of unfairly tiny hips and a perfectly flat stomach. "Completely disgusting," Ryan says again with added venom, and turns back to his book.
For being a really popular senior, Pete Wentz is actually a huge loser. He changes his facebook profile picture and status at least four times a day, and it's always ridiculous stuff like a contrasted image of himself lying in the dark to match the "i dreamt myself awake today" status. Ryan is also pretty sure Pete posts regularly on a Dairy Queen message board. Still, when Pete asks Ryan to go with him to the My Chemical Romance concert - it's a lot less gay than it sounds - Ryan practically floats back to his dorm, where he spends three hours picking his outfit - which, well, may be exactly as gay as it sounds, but come on. It's Pete Wentz who is, online antics aside, undoubtedly the coolest senior at college, so being seen with him at a concert as a sophomore? Well, Ryan Ross may just be the next big thing. So yeah, the clothes, the makeup, the shoes, everything has to be perfect.
It's totally, without a doubt, the best day of Ryan's life until he gets there. Yeah, Pete is waiting for him with a fourth row ticket and a wide grin, but bouncing in poorly contained excitement by his side is Brendon. And as if his mere presence weren't enough of an affront, Brendon apparently missed the memo where this was a fucking My Chemical Romance concert and not the Hannah Montana tour because he's wearing a bright pink Little Mermaid shirt and neon blue skin tight pants that make Ryan want to die. Ryan tries not to scowl as he approaches them, fiddling with one of the silk roses on his vest and wondering what the fuck is wrong with this guy's fashion sense.
As much as he tries to hide it, the horror must be painted on his face as distinctly as the fifteen crows he painstakingly traced because Brendon's excited smile becomes slightly apologetic. "Pete got an extra ticket at the last minute, isn't that awesome?" he greets as an explanation when Ryan walks up. When there is no response, Brendon continues in a rush of words. "They're doing a meet and greet after the show, do you think Gerard will sign my shirt?" and Ryan can't help it anymore, he covers his face with his gloved hands. "This is so humilating," he mutters, then jumps when Brendon puts a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be embarrassed," Brendon says seriously, all wide sympathetic eyes and blinding fuschia that obscures everything else in Ryan's field of vision. "I think your face paint looks awesome."
Ryan would say he's struck speechless, except his mind is suddenly overflowing with angry tortured lyrics that could fill pages of the notebook he inconveniently left at home because his life never fails to suck ass. "Yeah, totally," Pete agrees as if to drive the Ryan's-life-sucks point home, "I love the flowers, too, totally fairytale princess." It takes everything in Ryan's power not to point out that he's not the one in the fucking mermaid shirt.
So, yeah, best day of his life ruined by one moronic coworker. Ryan spends the concert ducking Brendon's hyperactive "dance" moves and trying not to think about the fact that, even though it's cool to hang out with a senior when you're a sophomore, it's even cooler when you're a freshman, which could potentially imply that he's just been outcooled by the loser flailing next to him in clothes meant for a twelve year old girl.
And to top it all off, turns out Gerard would love to sign Brendon's stupid uglyass Little Mermaid shirt.
"Are you mad at me?" Brendon finally asks him during their Friday shift. Duh, Ryan thinks, because hello? he's been pointedly ignoring Brendon for like a week. Well, okay, he's been pointedly ignoring Brendon the entire time they've been working together, but the past couple of days he's been extra icy. "Did I do something wrong?" Brendon questions further, his eyebrows knitted pathetically and his lips forming a tiny pout. Most people would be melting as quickly as the forgotten ice cream cone Brendon is clutching sadly, but Ryan is not "most people" and, probably more pertinently, Brendon is wearing that dumb Gerard-Way-autographed shirt. Brendon could be weeping on the floor in that shirt and Ryan wouldn't be moved in the slightest.
"You've been all quiet since the concert," Brendon elaborates when there is no reaction from Ryan. "Did you-" he stops suddenly, his eyes widening as a slight tinge colors his cheeks. "Oh my go- I am so sorry," he breathes and Ryan smirks, inwardly of course, because damn right Brendon should be sorry. "I didn't even think," Brendon continues in a babble, the hand holding his cone now completely covered in watery vanilla syrup. "I didn't mean to crash your date." Ryan is already halfway through graciously accepting the apology when the words register.
"Date?" he interrupts himself in mortification and feels his face heat. "No, no it's not like that," he stops at Brendon's clearly unconvinced expression. "It's okay," Brendon assures him hastily after a prolonged pause, "I just, I don't know," he glances at Ryan sadly, which, what the fuck? before quickly changing directions. "No, it's totally cool, I get it," and then he gets up and walks off, leaving Ryan frustrated and confused and with the inexplicable urge to yell I DON'T LIKE PETE after Brendon's retreating back.
In the end, the situation resolves itself in the unlikely form of one awkward, slightly plump checkout clerk. Apparently, Ryan finds out later, Pete had already been facebook stalking this guy for ages, which wouldn't have been that big of a deal, except that Pete had kind of been real life stalking him for ages too. Anyways, his name is Patrick and he works at the Whole Foods on the corner and, from the moment he walks through the door, Ryan knows that Pete's got it bad.
"Your mail got delivered to us, I thought I'd bring it by," Patrick says softly, pushing nervously at his glasses. Pete looks like he's going to explode with a million conflicting emotions. Ryan is so intent on trying not to explode with laughter himself, that he barely registers Brendon using the opportunity to subtly fix himself another sundae, on the house.
"Hey," Pete finally blurts just as the guy is turning to leave. "Do you want some ice cream?" The guy smiles softly, a little apologetic. "I don't eat dairy products." He explains, his expression almost regretful. "I'm a vegan," and then he walks out. "I forgot he was a vegan...." Pete trails off in horror as he sits down, staring at the sea of ice cream surrounding him. Ryan pats his shoulder sympathetically. "Guess there's no room in his life for a dairy queen, huh?" Brendon spits cookie dough bits over the counter as he bursts out laughing, Pete just puts his head in his hands.
"We need to set them up," Ryan informs Brendon later that afternoon, already forming a plan because he's just that awesome. Brendon scratches his head stupidly. "What?" Ryan resists the urge to punch him in the face, partly because he's been kind of into pacifism lately and partly because there is a tiny part of him that isn't totally sure who would win in a full on fight. "Pete and Patrick. We need to set them up." Brendon stares at him. "You... want to set Pete up with someone?" he asks almost hopefully and Ryan wonders like, seriously, how is Brendon this stupid. "Yes, they obviously like each other," Ryan explains slowly as Brendon's face lights up with belated excitement. "Awesome!" Brendon finally agrees, a little too happily, and Ryan doesn't really get why a thrilled hug is in order, but it's not like he has a choice, so whatever.
It doesn't take them very long to acquire the needed ingredients - Dairy Queen stocks most of the necessary items and what they don't have, Spencer somehow manages to produce. An hour of careful constructing later and their creation is ready to be revealed. "Dairy Queen should make superhero figures out of us for this," Brendon says, awestruck as they admire their work, and Ryan kind of has to agree. "Ready?" he asks with a grin as he grabs the phone and starts dialing the number for Whole Foods. "I was born ready," Brendon answers seriously and strikes a pose.
Everything goes surprisingly smoothly: Patrick picks up the phone, Ryan doesn't fuck up the story about how there was a bill for Whole Foods in the stack of mail Patrick had delivered earlier, and Pete remains blessedly in the out-of-earshot backroom. So when Patrick walks in for the second time that day, the final step of their perfect plan is ready to be put into motion. "Pete!" Brendon calls, protectively hiding their creation from view. "What's going on?" Pete asks, looking uncharacteristically flustered as he spots Patrick. "We have a present for you," Ryan answers cryptically before he nods at Brendon.
"It's the soy king-," Brendon announces proudly, stepping aside to reveal the laboriously crafted face: a tiny scoop of soy based ice cream for the head, berries for the mouth, nuts for the eyes, and a turned over organic waffle cone doubling as a hat. It's almost completely sugar-free and yet manages to simultaneously be the sugariest syrupy sap known to mankind. "-but no soy king is complete without his dairy queen," Ryan finishes and as hard as he tries to look serious, he can't help smiling, because okay, the whole situation might just be the lamest thing ever, but when Patrick turns to give Pete a shy little smile, it just might just be the cutest, too.
It really really one hundred percent pinky promise was not intentional. Freud might say otherwise, but seriously, Ryan had been on his feet dealing with shit all afternoon, he was starving and tired, and a customer had just yelled at him for making the wrong flavor blizzard, which was totally ludicrous because the guy definitely hadn't said snickers the first time but whatever. The point is that it totally isn't Ryan's fault that the rejected blizzard he absentmindedly starts eating just as Brendon walks in on the last day before summer break happens to be cherry cordial.
"Is that," Brendon starts, and because this is Ryan's life and it never fails to suck, Brendon obviously has to notice. "Is that- are you eating disgusting cherry cordial?" he asks, grinning like the annoying moron he is.
Ryan is too tired to muster the energy needed to explain the long series of events that led up to this point, but Brendon doesn't pause long enough for him to speak. "Could it be," he continues smugly, taking Ryan's spoon and licking it clean. "That you secretly like cherry cordial after all?" And then suddenly Brendon is kissing him, lips tasting of sugar and milk and cherries, and, yeah okay, Ryan admits vaguely to himself, maybe he kind of does secretly like cherry cordial after all.
Warning: high sugar content.
Ryan never intended to spend a large part of his sophomore year working at Dairy Queen. But when he gets a facebook message from Pete Wentz, the most popular senior on campus, saying he's seen Ryan's "desperately seeking employment" status and that there's a job opening at the Dairy Queen he manages, Ryan isn't about to say no. True, the "frnd me so i cna see yr pics" should be slightly creepy, but... Pete Wentz. So anyways, that's how Ryan Ross, veritable poet and Kerouac devotee, ends up spending his Saturday nights scooping ice cream for drunk teenage hipsters.
Sadly, the substance free Saturday nights and drunk teenage hipsters aren't even the worst part of the job. That title belongs, wildly uncontested, to Ryan's annoying freshman coworker. Brendon wears pastel hoodies and ugly glasses, squirts softserve directly into his mouth on an hourly basis, and insists on blasting a mix of Disney and American Top 40. Ryan doesn't know which is worse: the fact that, despite all this, Pete Wentz seems to really like Brendon, or that after only two days of work, Ryan knows all the words to 'Big Girls Don't Cry'. It's kind of a toss up.
When Ryan actually thinks about it, one of the only good things about his job is that his best friend Spencer works at the Starbucks across the street and visits over his lunch break so they can bitch about their jobs. Most of their conversations go something along the lines of: "So I told him, no you can't have a MCFLURRY, does this look like a fucking McDonalds, and he STILL didn't get it," followed by a sympathetic nod and a, "Yeah, this one guy always orders a medium coffee, like, saying GRANDE isn't that hard." Then they'll share a long-suffering look and once again, come to the conclusion that other people suck. So yeah, it's a nice arrangement.
Except three weeks into the semester, Spencer suddenly starts really liking his job, so much so that his visits to Ryan become shorter and shorter and the bitching becomes pretty much nonexistant. Well, on Spencer's part at least. The whole situation makes absolutely no sense until Ryan meets Jon.
Ryan wants to hate Jon, he really really does and he really really should, because the first thing Jon does is order an Americone Dream McFlurry with a gummi bear mix-in (Ben & Jerry's, McDonald's, Coldstone, in that order) and then proceeds to sing the entire Aladdin soundtrack with Brendon, but he can't. It's basically impossible to hate Jon. Jon is hilarious and cool and works at Starbucks too and is pretty much a living breathing teddy bear. So even as his ears are being assaulted by the last strains of One Jump Ahead, Ryan finds himself digging under the counter for a package of gummi bears.
Spencer's newfound love for his job, well strike the B and replace it with an N, means that Ryan now has to spend most of his breaks alone with Brendon. Not that Brendon wasn't there before, it was just easier to ignore him. True, Pete stops by on occassion to 'check up on his employees', which Ryan quickly realizes actually means 'check out his employees', but most of the time it's just the two of them. And as set as Ryan is on avoiding any form of conversation, Brendon seems equally determined to bother him.
"If you were an ice cream flavor, you'd be strawberry," Brendon announces on a day when he's being particularly annoying. It's times like these that Ryan comes dangerously close to achieving the impossible: hating Jon. Ryan raises an eyebrow and watches Brendon spray an entire can of whipped cream onto his oreo blizzard before he asks the obvious question. "What?" Because, seriously, he's always thought of himself as a french vanilla, or at least something a little more refined than plain old strawberry. "Yeah, strawberry," Brendon answers. "I don't really know why, it just fits. Pete would be rocky road because he's crazy like that." He pauses to precariously place a cherry on his dessert heap. "So, what do you think I would be?"
"Cherry cordial," Ryan answers without hesitation, still annoyed at being categorized as strawberry, because what the fuck? And since when is 'it just fits' an acceptable answer? Even Cosmo gives better explanations than that. Not that Ryan would know anything about why he's a sultry summer. Brendon pauses over his concoction thoughtfully. "Really? Why?" Ryan shoots the heaping cup of ice cream a pointed look. "Because it's disgusting."
Brendon affects a pout, but Ryan sees the corners of his lips turn up in amusement. "You think I'm disgusting?" he asks in overly dramatic offense. "Yes," Ryan irritatedly informs his coworker, who just grins as he shovels another heaping spooful into his mouth. "Mmmm," Brendon comments blissfully around a mouthful of whipped cream and oreos, standing up to do a little dance that gives Ryan an eyefull of unfairly tiny hips and a perfectly flat stomach. "Completely disgusting," Ryan says again with added venom, and turns back to his book.
For being a really popular senior, Pete Wentz is actually a huge loser. He changes his facebook profile picture and status at least four times a day, and it's always ridiculous stuff like a contrasted image of himself lying in the dark to match the "i dreamt myself awake today" status. Ryan is also pretty sure Pete posts regularly on a Dairy Queen message board. Still, when Pete asks Ryan to go with him to the My Chemical Romance concert - it's a lot less gay than it sounds - Ryan practically floats back to his dorm, where he spends three hours picking his outfit - which, well, may be exactly as gay as it sounds, but come on. It's Pete Wentz who is, online antics aside, undoubtedly the coolest senior at college, so being seen with him at a concert as a sophomore? Well, Ryan Ross may just be the next big thing. So yeah, the clothes, the makeup, the shoes, everything has to be perfect.
It's totally, without a doubt, the best day of Ryan's life until he gets there. Yeah, Pete is waiting for him with a fourth row ticket and a wide grin, but bouncing in poorly contained excitement by his side is Brendon. And as if his mere presence weren't enough of an affront, Brendon apparently missed the memo where this was a fucking My Chemical Romance concert and not the Hannah Montana tour because he's wearing a bright pink Little Mermaid shirt and neon blue skin tight pants that make Ryan want to die. Ryan tries not to scowl as he approaches them, fiddling with one of the silk roses on his vest and wondering what the fuck is wrong with this guy's fashion sense.
As much as he tries to hide it, the horror must be painted on his face as distinctly as the fifteen crows he painstakingly traced because Brendon's excited smile becomes slightly apologetic. "Pete got an extra ticket at the last minute, isn't that awesome?" he greets as an explanation when Ryan walks up. When there is no response, Brendon continues in a rush of words. "They're doing a meet and greet after the show, do you think Gerard will sign my shirt?" and Ryan can't help it anymore, he covers his face with his gloved hands. "This is so humilating," he mutters, then jumps when Brendon puts a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be embarrassed," Brendon says seriously, all wide sympathetic eyes and blinding fuschia that obscures everything else in Ryan's field of vision. "I think your face paint looks awesome."
Ryan would say he's struck speechless, except his mind is suddenly overflowing with angry tortured lyrics that could fill pages of the notebook he inconveniently left at home because his life never fails to suck ass. "Yeah, totally," Pete agrees as if to drive the Ryan's-life-sucks point home, "I love the flowers, too, totally fairytale princess." It takes everything in Ryan's power not to point out that he's not the one in the fucking mermaid shirt.
So, yeah, best day of his life ruined by one moronic coworker. Ryan spends the concert ducking Brendon's hyperactive "dance" moves and trying not to think about the fact that, even though it's cool to hang out with a senior when you're a sophomore, it's even cooler when you're a freshman, which could potentially imply that he's just been outcooled by the loser flailing next to him in clothes meant for a twelve year old girl.
And to top it all off, turns out Gerard would love to sign Brendon's stupid uglyass Little Mermaid shirt.
"Are you mad at me?" Brendon finally asks him during their Friday shift. Duh, Ryan thinks, because hello? he's been pointedly ignoring Brendon for like a week. Well, okay, he's been pointedly ignoring Brendon the entire time they've been working together, but the past couple of days he's been extra icy. "Did I do something wrong?" Brendon questions further, his eyebrows knitted pathetically and his lips forming a tiny pout. Most people would be melting as quickly as the forgotten ice cream cone Brendon is clutching sadly, but Ryan is not "most people" and, probably more pertinently, Brendon is wearing that dumb Gerard-Way-autographed shirt. Brendon could be weeping on the floor in that shirt and Ryan wouldn't be moved in the slightest.
"You've been all quiet since the concert," Brendon elaborates when there is no reaction from Ryan. "Did you-" he stops suddenly, his eyes widening as a slight tinge colors his cheeks. "Oh my go- I am so sorry," he breathes and Ryan smirks, inwardly of course, because damn right Brendon should be sorry. "I didn't even think," Brendon continues in a babble, the hand holding his cone now completely covered in watery vanilla syrup. "I didn't mean to crash your date." Ryan is already halfway through graciously accepting the apology when the words register.
"Date?" he interrupts himself in mortification and feels his face heat. "No, no it's not like that," he stops at Brendon's clearly unconvinced expression. "It's okay," Brendon assures him hastily after a prolonged pause, "I just, I don't know," he glances at Ryan sadly, which, what the fuck? before quickly changing directions. "No, it's totally cool, I get it," and then he gets up and walks off, leaving Ryan frustrated and confused and with the inexplicable urge to yell I DON'T LIKE PETE after Brendon's retreating back.
In the end, the situation resolves itself in the unlikely form of one awkward, slightly plump checkout clerk. Apparently, Ryan finds out later, Pete had already been facebook stalking this guy for ages, which wouldn't have been that big of a deal, except that Pete had kind of been real life stalking him for ages too. Anyways, his name is Patrick and he works at the Whole Foods on the corner and, from the moment he walks through the door, Ryan knows that Pete's got it bad.
"Your mail got delivered to us, I thought I'd bring it by," Patrick says softly, pushing nervously at his glasses. Pete looks like he's going to explode with a million conflicting emotions. Ryan is so intent on trying not to explode with laughter himself, that he barely registers Brendon using the opportunity to subtly fix himself another sundae, on the house.
"Hey," Pete finally blurts just as the guy is turning to leave. "Do you want some ice cream?" The guy smiles softly, a little apologetic. "I don't eat dairy products." He explains, his expression almost regretful. "I'm a vegan," and then he walks out. "I forgot he was a vegan...." Pete trails off in horror as he sits down, staring at the sea of ice cream surrounding him. Ryan pats his shoulder sympathetically. "Guess there's no room in his life for a dairy queen, huh?" Brendon spits cookie dough bits over the counter as he bursts out laughing, Pete just puts his head in his hands.
"We need to set them up," Ryan informs Brendon later that afternoon, already forming a plan because he's just that awesome. Brendon scratches his head stupidly. "What?" Ryan resists the urge to punch him in the face, partly because he's been kind of into pacifism lately and partly because there is a tiny part of him that isn't totally sure who would win in a full on fight. "Pete and Patrick. We need to set them up." Brendon stares at him. "You... want to set Pete up with someone?" he asks almost hopefully and Ryan wonders like, seriously, how is Brendon this stupid. "Yes, they obviously like each other," Ryan explains slowly as Brendon's face lights up with belated excitement. "Awesome!" Brendon finally agrees, a little too happily, and Ryan doesn't really get why a thrilled hug is in order, but it's not like he has a choice, so whatever.
It doesn't take them very long to acquire the needed ingredients - Dairy Queen stocks most of the necessary items and what they don't have, Spencer somehow manages to produce. An hour of careful constructing later and their creation is ready to be revealed. "Dairy Queen should make superhero figures out of us for this," Brendon says, awestruck as they admire their work, and Ryan kind of has to agree. "Ready?" he asks with a grin as he grabs the phone and starts dialing the number for Whole Foods. "I was born ready," Brendon answers seriously and strikes a pose.
Everything goes surprisingly smoothly: Patrick picks up the phone, Ryan doesn't fuck up the story about how there was a bill for Whole Foods in the stack of mail Patrick had delivered earlier, and Pete remains blessedly in the out-of-earshot backroom. So when Patrick walks in for the second time that day, the final step of their perfect plan is ready to be put into motion. "Pete!" Brendon calls, protectively hiding their creation from view. "What's going on?" Pete asks, looking uncharacteristically flustered as he spots Patrick. "We have a present for you," Ryan answers cryptically before he nods at Brendon.
"It's the soy king-," Brendon announces proudly, stepping aside to reveal the laboriously crafted face: a tiny scoop of soy based ice cream for the head, berries for the mouth, nuts for the eyes, and a turned over organic waffle cone doubling as a hat. It's almost completely sugar-free and yet manages to simultaneously be the sugariest syrupy sap known to mankind. "-but no soy king is complete without his dairy queen," Ryan finishes and as hard as he tries to look serious, he can't help smiling, because okay, the whole situation might just be the lamest thing ever, but when Patrick turns to give Pete a shy little smile, it just might just be the cutest, too.
It really really one hundred percent pinky promise was not intentional. Freud might say otherwise, but seriously, Ryan had been on his feet dealing with shit all afternoon, he was starving and tired, and a customer had just yelled at him for making the wrong flavor blizzard, which was totally ludicrous because the guy definitely hadn't said snickers the first time but whatever. The point is that it totally isn't Ryan's fault that the rejected blizzard he absentmindedly starts eating just as Brendon walks in on the last day before summer break happens to be cherry cordial.
"Is that," Brendon starts, and because this is Ryan's life and it never fails to suck, Brendon obviously has to notice. "Is that- are you eating disgusting cherry cordial?" he asks, grinning like the annoying moron he is.
Ryan is too tired to muster the energy needed to explain the long series of events that led up to this point, but Brendon doesn't pause long enough for him to speak. "Could it be," he continues smugly, taking Ryan's spoon and licking it clean. "That you secretly like cherry cordial after all?" And then suddenly Brendon is kissing him, lips tasting of sugar and milk and cherries, and, yeah okay, Ryan admits vaguely to himself, maybe he kind of does secretly like cherry cordial after all.