how's it gonna be when you're not around?
The TOUR!AU is finally done. And it has a name now, which is pretty sweet. It's not very long, but it doesn't need to be I guess. I hope you love it.
and it's like I can't feel a thing without you around.
ryan && brendon
2457 words
The road always seems to go on forever. This is the only thing about being on tour that always stays the same, it always feels like they've been on tour for years instead of a few weeks, a side-effect of being in the same small space with the same people they've seen pretty much everyday for the past four years. None of them ever complain, but they're all beyond needing to use words anyway. Even Ryan, who relies on them for so much, can't be bothered to speak when he can simply twirl his hand around to let Brendon know that the fan needs to be switched to a lower setting and directed away from his face, immediately.
Or, that could just be a Ryan and Brendon thing that no one even pretends to understand anymore because whenever Ryan does something like that to anyone else, even Spencer, everyone just stares until Brendon rolls his eyes and stands to do whatever Ryan is trying to explain with very vague hand gestures. Ryan will always smile, slow and grateful and Brendon will always duck his head down to try and hide the thick blush creeping up his neck.
***
As much as they all hate to admit it, sleeping in hotels is harder than sleeping on the bus. Zach will have that huge smile on his face when he announces that he finally booked a good hotel for the night, expecting them to be elated and relieved. And to him, they always are. They've gotten good at hiding their disappointment. It's hard to explain, their shared disdain for hotels. Or maybe it isn't and that's what makes it odd. There's something about the sound of tires against pavement, the busy hum of the engine that they're all so used to hearing. Giving up ipods for open windows, silence for crickets as they drive through the country.
Today, Zach smiles one more time and sets the two key-cards onto the small table beside him before leaving the bus. Jon is still in his sweatpants from the day before, playing cards with Spencer and he rolls his eyes at the door. Spencer takes the hint and lays his cards down on the couch where they're sitting and grabs a key-card off the table, slipping it into his pocket and smiling at Jon.
On the opposite end of the couch, Brendon's fingers are itching to pick up a card, but. Ryan is curled up next to him, resting his head on Brendon's shoulder and snoring softly into his ear. There are goosebumps decorating Brendon's arms and a tight knot in his stomach because it just feels so intimate, having Ryan so close, so relaxed. He glances down at their hands, squeezes their joined fingers lightly and Ryan sighs, cuddling closer, breath ghosting along Brendon's neck. The knot in Brendon's stomach clenches almost painfully and he settles back into the couch. They have all day. The card can wait.
***
Jon has always shared a room with Spencer. And he still remembers how strange it was to him when he first joined the band. He knew about Ryan and Spencer, about their friendship. They were closer than he had ever been with anyone, and so he had been preparing to stay with Brendon. Brendon, who, like Jon, was an outsider to the relationship Ryan and Spencer shared. But Spencer had simply grabbed a key and motioned for Jon to follow him off the bus and into the hotel.
"Why aren't you rooming with Ryan?" Jon had asked as they entered the lobby.
Spencer was silent for a long moment, and Jon thought he hadn't heard him. But when he did speak, Jon knew that it was an answer he would really have to find on his own.
"Because I've had my time to get to know him. I already know how amazing he is. Now it's Brendon's turn."
Jon just nodded, and Spencer just smiled.
***
Ryan wakes up about an hour later to Brendon's big eyes smiling at him, sparkling in the dim light. And Ryan, his breath gets lost somewhere in his throat, drifts down to his heart and he feels light, dizzy. Brendon shakes his head and leans in, stopping an inch away from Ryan's already parted lips, and just breathes for a moment. Ryan blinks and then Brendon is placing the hand that isn't around Ryan's waist against the back of his neck, slipping his fingers into Ryan's hair and pulling him forward.
It's a kiss that feels blurry, dark with frayed edges but impossibly alive and Ryan feels more awake than he has in days as Brendon pulls him down to lay, facing him on the tiny couch. Brendon is kissing him so slowly, so gently and Ryan's skin is on fire. He can feel the flames licking at his side as Brendon slides his hand to rest on the warm skin there, clutching firmly, and Ryan moans quietly, opening his mouth to let Brendon's tongue slide against his. Brendon tightens his grip for a moment, licks into Ryan's mouth lazily and then pulls back, chuckling at Ryan's small whimper.
Ryan's breath is coming in heavy bursts and he rests his forehead against Brendon's. Brendon rubs lazy circles against Ryan's soft skin and just smiles, breathing deep and even. Ryan opens his mouth to speak, but all of the words in the world could not do the boy beside him justice.
"I love you," Brendon whispers, moving forward to kiss Ryan's cheek, his nose, his lips. Ryan closes his eyes and falls into it, clutching at Brendon's shoulders. The kiss is deeper this time and Ryan tilts his head slightly, finding a better angle and running his tongue along Brendon's lower lip. He opens his mouth instantly and slips his tongue against Ryan's, hot and slow. Ryan moans and presses himself flush against Brendon's warm body, letting his hands move to rest on either side of Brendon's neck, holding him close.
Brendon pulls away again but this time Ryan just lets him. Just smiles
***
The hotel Zack found them isn't as nice as the ones they usually stay in, but it doesn't matter. Spencer has never gotten used to staying in nice places anyway. Jon grabs his bags and follows Spencer off the bus, yelling behind him for Brendon and Ryan to hurry. Ryan tucks his ipod into his duffel bag and runs a hand through his hair, messy from sleep and tired kisses. Brendon is standing beside him, pulling his favorite blanket from the seldom used bunk across from Ryan's. They've been sharing his bunk for the better part of three years anyway.
Ryan zips his bag closed and remembers that first night. Remembers Brendon's hesitant smile, that first warm kiss, that first morning he woke up to Brendon's smile.
Brendon turns to Ryan with the blanket carefully folded under his arm and Ryan's goofy grin takes him by surprise.
"Why so smiley, love?" he asks, sliding his free arm around Ryan's waist and kissing him on the temple.
Ryan just shakes his head, grabs his bag, and lets Brendon lead him off the bus.
***
Hotels are always colder than the bus. The bus has this very intricate, and probably expensive, heating system that keeps the whole bus (which is actually bigger than it looks, and none of the boys know how that really works) at a constant seventy-five degrees. It's cooler than Vegas, warmer than Chicago, and it's not always comfortable, but it's constant and most of the time, that's more than they have the right to ask for so they just go with it. But hotel nights mean temperatures in the high sixties, extra blankets and sleepless nights.
It's too cold, it's too quiet, it's too empty or it's too full. It's not home and it's not the bus. It's in that awkward space in the middle, it's too much like their bedrooms at home, back in where ever. But every door leads to another room they've never been in, and when they open the windows, they can't hear the steady rush of the highway.
Brendon shivers a little, closing the window Ryan had opened earlier halfway. He turns to face the door of the room, smiling at the large bed to his left, covered in Ryan's scarves and blankets and luggage and chuckles at the bed to his right, which is empty. He yawns a little, stretches slowly and steps forward to pull down the comforter on the bed to his right and start spreading extra blankets across it.
The door to the small bathroom opens, but Brendon doesn't notice as he's too busy humming and rustling and making sure that Ryan's side of the bed gets the bright red blanket Jon bought him between Virginia and Ohio. Ryan just stands in the doorway of the bathroom and smiles, thinks it's pretty much the most adorable thing he's seen in a long time. Then again, Brendon has always been able to open up the warm, gooey part of his heart and make him feel like he's floating with just one smile.
Ryan looks away for a moment to tie the drawstring on his (well, Brendon's. But he's been stealing them for so long that it doesn't really matter anymore) pants and smooths his palms down the front of one of Spencer's old t-shirts, turning off the light in the bathroom and getting Brendon's attention, finally.
"Hey, baby," Brendon says as he turns around, soft and tired.
The very corners of Ryan's lips turn up at this, a hint of a smile, though he's never really liked being called baby. It reminds him of high school girlfriends, fake nails, low shirts, and all the other things high school managed to disappoint him with. But there's something about the way Brendon says it, low and reverent. Like he can't believe he got lucky enough to call Ryan his baby, and it takes that gooey part of Ryan's heart and melts it.
Suddenly shy, Ryan ducks his head and Brendon chuckles lightly, stepping forward to take the embarrassed man into his arms. Ryan smiles and nuzzles his face into the warm spot where Brendon's neck meets his shoulder and Brendon tightens the hold his fingers have on Ryan's hips. Ryan smirks, confident, and presses a light kiss to the warm skin beneath his lips and Brendon shivers, moving his head back to give Ryan more room.
Ryan slides his arms around Brendon's waist, low and just breathes against his boyfriend's neck for a moment, teasing because he knows Brendon loves it. He sighs a bit and Ryan rolls his eyes, giving in and pressing slow, open-mouth kisses along Brendon's neck, working his way down to his collarbone and he tastes like sweat, heavy and sour. Ryan's head is spinning but it's worth it for the soft, keening noises that flutter their way from Brendon's throat, cut through the cool air and tumble carelessly into Ryan's ears.
He hums, low and content and pulls away just in time to see the soft fluttering of Brendon's eyelashes. Brendon yawns and Ryan feels it thrum against his chest more than he actually hears it. He lowers his head against Brendon's neck again and chuckles, light.
"Sorry to ruin the mood, but you know. Sleep, and all that," Brendon mumbles. His words stick together a little in a lazy, happy sort of way that doesn't make Ryan think of slurring as in drunk, but of contentment as in love and he just nods, loosening his grip and letting Brendon climb into the large bed behind them. He trips a little, fumbles with the blankets and something in Ryan's heart twists, sharp and sudden.
Part of him still isn’t used to this, the easy intimacy that they have with each other. Part of him will never be used to it, will still flinch as Brendon slides his fingers against the small of his back to lead him into a room, will still glance around nervously when Brendon kisses him in the middle of the street for no reason except that he just has to.
And yet, there will always be that certain gravity that pulls his body in whatever direction Brendon is in.
Ryan steps forward to join him on the bed and muses, 'I am his moon' for a fleeting second. He's not used to being so reliant on anything, not Spencer, not his words. There are so many things about this relationship that he isn't used to, regardless of the years and he closes his eyes but all he can see is Brendon. Brendon, who turns to look at him in the soft light streaming through the window. His Brendon, and he opens his eyes to see that smile and tired eyes, pleading with him to stop thinking and Ryan, he can't do anything but listen.
As soon as he's laying down, Brendon snuggles up to his side, not a hint of hesitance, and Ryan sort of wants to kick himself. Instead, he threads his fingers through Brendon's messy hair, toying with the strands and letting himself relax.
"Ryan?" Brendon whispers and the boy in question makes a soft noise of recognition.
"I love you, but. Just, you scare me sometimes with how much you think," Brendon mutters into the soft cotton of his boyfriend's shirt. It smells like paper, crisp and worn and Brendon breathes in, deep.
Not sure how to reply to such honesty, Ryan opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it.
"Thinking is all I know how to do. But I love you too. I do, it's just," he pauses for a moment, thoughtful. "It's just that you scare me with how easy it is to put all my faith in you. I don't now how to not be in love with you. I never want to learn."
Brendon lifts his head and Ryan is looking out the window, his face relaxed, open. Honest. And he surges forward, kisses the very corner of Ryan's lips and he can feel it all the way to his toes when Ryan curls an arm around his waist and smiles.
XXX
Um. This fic did not go in the direction that I planned for it at all. I'm not really sure when I decided for it to switch directions from the theme of touring to the darker theme of... what we're used and what we aren't. The things that make us comfortable and how it doesn't always make sense, but it doesn't need to. This is now a fic that goes so much deeper than I intended. Um. I love this fic, but I'm kind of nervous about it now too. =/.
and it's like I can't feel a thing without you around.
ryan && brendon
2457 words
The road always seems to go on forever. This is the only thing about being on tour that always stays the same, it always feels like they've been on tour for years instead of a few weeks, a side-effect of being in the same small space with the same people they've seen pretty much everyday for the past four years. None of them ever complain, but they're all beyond needing to use words anyway. Even Ryan, who relies on them for so much, can't be bothered to speak when he can simply twirl his hand around to let Brendon know that the fan needs to be switched to a lower setting and directed away from his face, immediately.
Or, that could just be a Ryan and Brendon thing that no one even pretends to understand anymore because whenever Ryan does something like that to anyone else, even Spencer, everyone just stares until Brendon rolls his eyes and stands to do whatever Ryan is trying to explain with very vague hand gestures. Ryan will always smile, slow and grateful and Brendon will always duck his head down to try and hide the thick blush creeping up his neck.
***
As much as they all hate to admit it, sleeping in hotels is harder than sleeping on the bus. Zach will have that huge smile on his face when he announces that he finally booked a good hotel for the night, expecting them to be elated and relieved. And to him, they always are. They've gotten good at hiding their disappointment. It's hard to explain, their shared disdain for hotels. Or maybe it isn't and that's what makes it odd. There's something about the sound of tires against pavement, the busy hum of the engine that they're all so used to hearing. Giving up ipods for open windows, silence for crickets as they drive through the country.
Today, Zach smiles one more time and sets the two key-cards onto the small table beside him before leaving the bus. Jon is still in his sweatpants from the day before, playing cards with Spencer and he rolls his eyes at the door. Spencer takes the hint and lays his cards down on the couch where they're sitting and grabs a key-card off the table, slipping it into his pocket and smiling at Jon.
On the opposite end of the couch, Brendon's fingers are itching to pick up a card, but. Ryan is curled up next to him, resting his head on Brendon's shoulder and snoring softly into his ear. There are goosebumps decorating Brendon's arms and a tight knot in his stomach because it just feels so intimate, having Ryan so close, so relaxed. He glances down at their hands, squeezes their joined fingers lightly and Ryan sighs, cuddling closer, breath ghosting along Brendon's neck. The knot in Brendon's stomach clenches almost painfully and he settles back into the couch. They have all day. The card can wait.
***
Jon has always shared a room with Spencer. And he still remembers how strange it was to him when he first joined the band. He knew about Ryan and Spencer, about their friendship. They were closer than he had ever been with anyone, and so he had been preparing to stay with Brendon. Brendon, who, like Jon, was an outsider to the relationship Ryan and Spencer shared. But Spencer had simply grabbed a key and motioned for Jon to follow him off the bus and into the hotel.
"Why aren't you rooming with Ryan?" Jon had asked as they entered the lobby.
Spencer was silent for a long moment, and Jon thought he hadn't heard him. But when he did speak, Jon knew that it was an answer he would really have to find on his own.
"Because I've had my time to get to know him. I already know how amazing he is. Now it's Brendon's turn."
Jon just nodded, and Spencer just smiled.
***
Ryan wakes up about an hour later to Brendon's big eyes smiling at him, sparkling in the dim light. And Ryan, his breath gets lost somewhere in his throat, drifts down to his heart and he feels light, dizzy. Brendon shakes his head and leans in, stopping an inch away from Ryan's already parted lips, and just breathes for a moment. Ryan blinks and then Brendon is placing the hand that isn't around Ryan's waist against the back of his neck, slipping his fingers into Ryan's hair and pulling him forward.
It's a kiss that feels blurry, dark with frayed edges but impossibly alive and Ryan feels more awake than he has in days as Brendon pulls him down to lay, facing him on the tiny couch. Brendon is kissing him so slowly, so gently and Ryan's skin is on fire. He can feel the flames licking at his side as Brendon slides his hand to rest on the warm skin there, clutching firmly, and Ryan moans quietly, opening his mouth to let Brendon's tongue slide against his. Brendon tightens his grip for a moment, licks into Ryan's mouth lazily and then pulls back, chuckling at Ryan's small whimper.
Ryan's breath is coming in heavy bursts and he rests his forehead against Brendon's. Brendon rubs lazy circles against Ryan's soft skin and just smiles, breathing deep and even. Ryan opens his mouth to speak, but all of the words in the world could not do the boy beside him justice.
"I love you," Brendon whispers, moving forward to kiss Ryan's cheek, his nose, his lips. Ryan closes his eyes and falls into it, clutching at Brendon's shoulders. The kiss is deeper this time and Ryan tilts his head slightly, finding a better angle and running his tongue along Brendon's lower lip. He opens his mouth instantly and slips his tongue against Ryan's, hot and slow. Ryan moans and presses himself flush against Brendon's warm body, letting his hands move to rest on either side of Brendon's neck, holding him close.
Brendon pulls away again but this time Ryan just lets him. Just smiles
***
The hotel Zack found them isn't as nice as the ones they usually stay in, but it doesn't matter. Spencer has never gotten used to staying in nice places anyway. Jon grabs his bags and follows Spencer off the bus, yelling behind him for Brendon and Ryan to hurry. Ryan tucks his ipod into his duffel bag and runs a hand through his hair, messy from sleep and tired kisses. Brendon is standing beside him, pulling his favorite blanket from the seldom used bunk across from Ryan's. They've been sharing his bunk for the better part of three years anyway.
Ryan zips his bag closed and remembers that first night. Remembers Brendon's hesitant smile, that first warm kiss, that first morning he woke up to Brendon's smile.
Brendon turns to Ryan with the blanket carefully folded under his arm and Ryan's goofy grin takes him by surprise.
"Why so smiley, love?" he asks, sliding his free arm around Ryan's waist and kissing him on the temple.
Ryan just shakes his head, grabs his bag, and lets Brendon lead him off the bus.
***
Hotels are always colder than the bus. The bus has this very intricate, and probably expensive, heating system that keeps the whole bus (which is actually bigger than it looks, and none of the boys know how that really works) at a constant seventy-five degrees. It's cooler than Vegas, warmer than Chicago, and it's not always comfortable, but it's constant and most of the time, that's more than they have the right to ask for so they just go with it. But hotel nights mean temperatures in the high sixties, extra blankets and sleepless nights.
It's too cold, it's too quiet, it's too empty or it's too full. It's not home and it's not the bus. It's in that awkward space in the middle, it's too much like their bedrooms at home, back in where ever. But every door leads to another room they've never been in, and when they open the windows, they can't hear the steady rush of the highway.
Brendon shivers a little, closing the window Ryan had opened earlier halfway. He turns to face the door of the room, smiling at the large bed to his left, covered in Ryan's scarves and blankets and luggage and chuckles at the bed to his right, which is empty. He yawns a little, stretches slowly and steps forward to pull down the comforter on the bed to his right and start spreading extra blankets across it.
The door to the small bathroom opens, but Brendon doesn't notice as he's too busy humming and rustling and making sure that Ryan's side of the bed gets the bright red blanket Jon bought him between Virginia and Ohio. Ryan just stands in the doorway of the bathroom and smiles, thinks it's pretty much the most adorable thing he's seen in a long time. Then again, Brendon has always been able to open up the warm, gooey part of his heart and make him feel like he's floating with just one smile.
Ryan looks away for a moment to tie the drawstring on his (well, Brendon's. But he's been stealing them for so long that it doesn't really matter anymore) pants and smooths his palms down the front of one of Spencer's old t-shirts, turning off the light in the bathroom and getting Brendon's attention, finally.
"Hey, baby," Brendon says as he turns around, soft and tired.
The very corners of Ryan's lips turn up at this, a hint of a smile, though he's never really liked being called baby. It reminds him of high school girlfriends, fake nails, low shirts, and all the other things high school managed to disappoint him with. But there's something about the way Brendon says it, low and reverent. Like he can't believe he got lucky enough to call Ryan his baby, and it takes that gooey part of Ryan's heart and melts it.
Suddenly shy, Ryan ducks his head and Brendon chuckles lightly, stepping forward to take the embarrassed man into his arms. Ryan smiles and nuzzles his face into the warm spot where Brendon's neck meets his shoulder and Brendon tightens the hold his fingers have on Ryan's hips. Ryan smirks, confident, and presses a light kiss to the warm skin beneath his lips and Brendon shivers, moving his head back to give Ryan more room.
Ryan slides his arms around Brendon's waist, low and just breathes against his boyfriend's neck for a moment, teasing because he knows Brendon loves it. He sighs a bit and Ryan rolls his eyes, giving in and pressing slow, open-mouth kisses along Brendon's neck, working his way down to his collarbone and he tastes like sweat, heavy and sour. Ryan's head is spinning but it's worth it for the soft, keening noises that flutter their way from Brendon's throat, cut through the cool air and tumble carelessly into Ryan's ears.
He hums, low and content and pulls away just in time to see the soft fluttering of Brendon's eyelashes. Brendon yawns and Ryan feels it thrum against his chest more than he actually hears it. He lowers his head against Brendon's neck again and chuckles, light.
"Sorry to ruin the mood, but you know. Sleep, and all that," Brendon mumbles. His words stick together a little in a lazy, happy sort of way that doesn't make Ryan think of slurring as in drunk, but of contentment as in love and he just nods, loosening his grip and letting Brendon climb into the large bed behind them. He trips a little, fumbles with the blankets and something in Ryan's heart twists, sharp and sudden.
Part of him still isn’t used to this, the easy intimacy that they have with each other. Part of him will never be used to it, will still flinch as Brendon slides his fingers against the small of his back to lead him into a room, will still glance around nervously when Brendon kisses him in the middle of the street for no reason except that he just has to.
And yet, there will always be that certain gravity that pulls his body in whatever direction Brendon is in.
Ryan steps forward to join him on the bed and muses, 'I am his moon' for a fleeting second. He's not used to being so reliant on anything, not Spencer, not his words. There are so many things about this relationship that he isn't used to, regardless of the years and he closes his eyes but all he can see is Brendon. Brendon, who turns to look at him in the soft light streaming through the window. His Brendon, and he opens his eyes to see that smile and tired eyes, pleading with him to stop thinking and Ryan, he can't do anything but listen.
As soon as he's laying down, Brendon snuggles up to his side, not a hint of hesitance, and Ryan sort of wants to kick himself. Instead, he threads his fingers through Brendon's messy hair, toying with the strands and letting himself relax.
"Ryan?" Brendon whispers and the boy in question makes a soft noise of recognition.
"I love you, but. Just, you scare me sometimes with how much you think," Brendon mutters into the soft cotton of his boyfriend's shirt. It smells like paper, crisp and worn and Brendon breathes in, deep.
Not sure how to reply to such honesty, Ryan opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it.
"Thinking is all I know how to do. But I love you too. I do, it's just," he pauses for a moment, thoughtful. "It's just that you scare me with how easy it is to put all my faith in you. I don't now how to not be in love with you. I never want to learn."
Brendon lifts his head and Ryan is looking out the window, his face relaxed, open. Honest. And he surges forward, kisses the very corner of Ryan's lips and he can feel it all the way to his toes when Ryan curls an arm around his waist and smiles.
XXX
Um. This fic did not go in the direction that I planned for it at all. I'm not really sure when I decided for it to switch directions from the theme of touring to the darker theme of... what we're used and what we aren't. The things that make us comfortable and how it doesn't always make sense, but it doesn't need to. This is now a fic that goes so much deeper than I intended. Um. I love this fic, but I'm kind of nervous about it now too. =/.