Brand New Game
So, more fic basically. This is a stand-alone, but there is a very good chance there might be more of this verse cause there certainly is a lot more of it in my head. Also, my LJ editor hates punctuation, apparently. I'm trying to get it to talk to me, really I do.
Title: Brand New Game
Author: Raven
Rating: as yet PG-13
Pairings: Shane/Brendon Spencer/Ryan
Warnings: D/s themes, language, cuteness
Disclaimer: hell yeah, definitely. Title belongs to Elliott Smith.
“I swear to God, Spencer, if you don’t fucking make him shut up, one of these days, I will.” Spencer blinks. Swallows. Blinks again and stares at the door that Shane just slammed on his way out.
After that, Spencer starts looking for Jon cause he really needs a smoke about now. That’s the only thought his brain is willing to process at the moment, but after the first couple of hits, the initial “What the fuck” starts going around in his brain again.
He’d assumed that he actually knew Shane pretty well. Okay, the guy’s not in the band, but he’s part of all this. He’s been around since pretty much day one. He’s Brendon’s boyfriend, for fuck’s sake. Long-term in a way that Keltie or Cassie or even Haley weren’t and as such, he’s kinda family.
Jon’s watching him, half-curious, half-stoned, and he figures he might as well answer the question before Jon has to go through the trouble of formulating it.
“Shane’s pissed about something. Like, I mean. Seriously pissed.” He takes another toke and mentally pats himself on the back for never even trying to be a lyricist. Even sentences seem hard work right about now.
Jon giggles and makes grabby hands for the joint, but Spencer holds onto it. “Share, Jon Walker.” Jon giggles again. “Exactly.” Spencer would roll his eyes if people didn’t keep pointing out just how often he did that.
“Jon, seriously. Pissed off. Like, major proportions of pissed off. He slammed the door.”
“Huh.” Jon blinks and studies Spencer’s face intently. Then, he takes a deep breath. “This is about Ryan, right?” he asks, but it’s not even really a question and Spencer doesn’t know if it is or isn’t, so he doesn’t say anything.
“Dude, you know that Brendon and Shane are......, right?” Spencer does roll his eyes this time. “Um, duh. They fuck in the bunk above mine.” Jon grins. “Yeah. Just. Checking, I guess.” Spencer needs a moment to process the slightly pink colour creeping over Jon’s cheeks. “Are you actually blushing?”
Jon takes the joint back and looks away and Spencer thinks oh yeah, straight. He imagines someone getting it on next to him at night, like - a chick. “Um. Look, if we...if you need us to be a bit more subtle about...you know. We could.”
Jon’s ever present grin turns into full blown laughter. “Subtle,” he chokes and there are actual tears in his eyes. “Ryan wouldn’t know subtle if it was subtle’s tongue up his ass instead of yours.” He pauses for a moment and shakes his head. “Ugh. No offense, man. But. Gross!” Spencer kinda gets it. He wouldn’t want images of Jon...and that’s why the thought stops right there, thank you. Cause he actually has some semblance of self-control.
“Still, though”, he persists, “what the hell is Shane yelling at me for?” The blush returns and Jon’s biting his lip and he looks guilty. Like, not even hand in the cookie jar guilty but caught with my dick up your boyfriend’s ass guilty. And Spencer didn’t need that thought either.
“I...I might have. Look, it just slipped out.” Spencer isn’t sure what did, but he doesn’t like the sound of that. Too much confessional. Too little dashboard. He really wants a new brain.
“Ikindamighthavementionedryansabitofakinkybitch” Jon blurts out and then studies his fingers. Spencer closes his eyes. He also wants a new band. And a fake ID. And possibly cosmetic surgery. He could buy a beach house in Cancun. “How...what the fuck, Jon?”
Jon still looks guilty, but there is the tiniest bit of a smirk and his eyes go all crinkly. “Look, I kinda heard. Also, if I hadn’t, dude, you guys are sorta obvious.”
Which is totally not true. Ryan and Spencer are fucking stealthy ninjas when it comes to. Oh shit. And how much exactly did Jon hear?
“I mean, Spence, you actually get him to shut up. You get Ryan Ross to shut the fuck up sometimes when he’s getting on one and really, how much more evidence does anyone need?”
Spencer groans. They’ve been friends for like ever. They’ve also been this, before there even was a band. Before there were girlfriends. While there were girlfriends, even. It’s second nature to them.
“So my guess would be Shane was asking you politely to reign your bitch in before he does it for you.” This time, Jon’s not even trying to make it sound like he isn’t grinning, although he’s ducked his head so Spencer can’t see it.
“What the -? Seriously, what the fuck?”
Jon lights the joint and takes a tiny drag, just to get it going properly before passing it on to Spencer. Who really fucking appreciates the gesture, no mistake about it, but still. What. The. Fuck.
“So you didn’t know,” Jon concludes and Spencer’s brain is running back through the conversation. He said he knew about Brendon and Shane, cause he does. But. Oh.
“Oh. You mean. Oh.” Suddenly, there are about fifty million images in his mind. All those situations that never added up, all that eye-contact that wasn’t couply and loving but something. Something so very familiar that he never even thought about it.
“Oh,” he repeats and Jon pats him on the back helpfully.
They sit in silence for a couple of minutes before Jon starts with the giggling again. Spencer raises an eyebrow. “I’m just...dude. First, there was William and Gabe. Then you two. Then Brendon and Shane. How the fuck do I end up in bands who. Like.” He giggles again and Spencer briefly closes his eyes to banish the thought of William and Gabe doing. That.
Which brings him back to the thought of Shane and Brendon doing. That. And he really needs to fucking get over himself and figure out what exactly he’d even call it. Cause to him, it’s actually not all that kinky or anything. It was just. Ryan needed it at the time and he rolled with it and it turned into the way they worked best.
They aren’t...there’s no leather and gags and weirdness like that. It’s just them, at their most honest with each other, at their most tuned in to the other person’s needs.
“So maybe you should have a chat with Shane about your beloved little brats,” Jon mumbles and there are still crinkly bits round his eyes, Spencer can see it.
“Fuck you.” It doesn’t sound like he means it, though. Probably because he doesn’t mean it one bit. Also, Jon is right. Of course he’s fucking right, cause he’s Jon Walker. He’s kind of awesome in that he can be right all the time without rubbing it in your face constantly.
Spencer isn’t even surprised when Shane seeks him out after the sound check and before the show. Sooner or later, he would have grown the balls to go talk to Shane, but. It’s nice that Shane doesn’t look pissed as hell anymore. He’s back to his usual laid-back self, at least on the surface. Spencer briefly wonders if his eyes always had that weird glint, but he’s probably just being paranoid now.
Shane apologizes quietly “for freaking out earlier” and his hand strays to the cigarettes in his jeans pocket, but he looks up at Spencer and puts the pack away again with a small shrug, as though he’s on Spencer’s turf here or something.
“I don’t mind if you smoke,” Spencer blurts out although he really fucking hates second-hand cancer fumes (pot doesn’t count). Shane smiles gratefully and lights up and Spencer really fucking hopes the nicotine will help Shane string a sentence together, cause he has absolutely no idea how to get from “so you’re dating our singer and are kinda pretty cool to have around” to “do you actually ever think of putting a collar on him?”. Which has totally never crossed his mind, come on.
Shane glances up at him and grins and Spencer wonders if the weird mind-melding thing that’s going on in the band has somehow extended to Shane. Which. Yeah, paranoid. Spencer is probably not cut out to be a stoner.
“This is weird”, Shane mumbles, grin still in place and Spencer finds himself smiling back tentatively. “Yeah.”
After that, there is a small pause before they both start talking simultaneously, Spencer blurting out something like “I don’t even -“. Shane closes his mouth and cocks an eyebrow, probably to indicate he’s listening. Shit. Mind-melding thing, seriously.
“I don’t even know what you guys...do. Or whatever. Just. Ryan and I, we’re. I’m pretty sure it’s different.” Shane keeps the eye contact up until Spencer really has to look away.
“It probably is. I mean, Ryan and Brendon, for one.” Which makes a weird lot of sense to Spencer even though maybe it wouldn’t to anyone else.
“I don’t wanna... you know, whatever works for you, just. Brendon gets pretty fucking upset. I don’t wanna. Shit.” He pauses for a moment and Spencer notices a hard line around his mouth before he continues. “Look, Spencer, I know this is the band and it’s none of my business, but I end up having to piece together Brendon every time Ryan decides something isn’t good enough and I just...”
Spencer is silent for a while, studying the way Shane is examining the worn linoleum and chewing on his lower lip. There’s something determined in the way his shoulders are set, but there is also something else, something tired and upset. Spencer remembers all the times he’s had to piece Ryan back together and he gets it so much that he kinda wants to hug Shane. Also, Ryan.
“Dude, the day I can get Ryan to stop acting like a pissy princess, I’ll let you know”, he mumbles and Shane laughs, short and surprised. Then, he nods at Spencer. “If anyone can, you will.” He walks off and Spencer just stares after him for a long moment before joining the other guys backstage.
The tension between Ryan and Brendon is palpable, like static crackling between the two opposite corners of the room, Ryan fixing his make-up while Brendon’s warming up his voice. He takes it a bit more seriously recently and Spencer suddenly wonders if Shane’s got anything to do with that. Spencer walks over to Ryan and briefly brushes a hand over the small of his back, which means a million things all at once, but mostly, it’s reassurance. Ryan smiles at him in the mirror and continues putting his eye-liner on.
Spencer leans forward a little bit to hook his chin over Ryan’s shoulder and he sees his own expression change in the mirror as he feels Ryan tense ever so slightly. “Ry, I want you to do something, okay?” They both know that it’s an order, but Spencer rarely phrases it that way. Ryan nods, barely noticeable.
“Say something nice to Brendon before the show. Can you do that for me?” Spencer watches as Ryan’s Adam’s apple jumps a little as he swallows, but then Ryan nods before finishing with the eye-liner.
Spencer doesn’t actually hear what Ryan says, but he sees Brendon smile and Ryan beams at him and the show turns out fucking awesome. Brendon’s always full of energy on stage and he’s pretty much always great at what he does, but there are nights when he’s justfree. It’s one of those nights and Ryan drapes an arm around Brendon’s shoulder as they walk off the stage and Shane’s there smiling at Spencer and Jon is biting his lip to control that unnatural grin and somehow, maybe this could work.
Title: Brand New Game
Author: Raven
Rating: as yet PG-13
Pairings: Shane/Brendon Spencer/Ryan
Warnings: D/s themes, language, cuteness
Disclaimer: hell yeah, definitely. Title belongs to Elliott Smith.
“I swear to God, Spencer, if you don’t fucking make him shut up, one of these days, I will.” Spencer blinks. Swallows. Blinks again and stares at the door that Shane just slammed on his way out.
After that, Spencer starts looking for Jon cause he really needs a smoke about now. That’s the only thought his brain is willing to process at the moment, but after the first couple of hits, the initial “What the fuck” starts going around in his brain again.
He’d assumed that he actually knew Shane pretty well. Okay, the guy’s not in the band, but he’s part of all this. He’s been around since pretty much day one. He’s Brendon’s boyfriend, for fuck’s sake. Long-term in a way that Keltie or Cassie or even Haley weren’t and as such, he’s kinda family.
Jon’s watching him, half-curious, half-stoned, and he figures he might as well answer the question before Jon has to go through the trouble of formulating it.
“Shane’s pissed about something. Like, I mean. Seriously pissed.” He takes another toke and mentally pats himself on the back for never even trying to be a lyricist. Even sentences seem hard work right about now.
Jon giggles and makes grabby hands for the joint, but Spencer holds onto it. “Share, Jon Walker.” Jon giggles again. “Exactly.” Spencer would roll his eyes if people didn’t keep pointing out just how often he did that.
“Jon, seriously. Pissed off. Like, major proportions of pissed off. He slammed the door.”
“Huh.” Jon blinks and studies Spencer’s face intently. Then, he takes a deep breath. “This is about Ryan, right?” he asks, but it’s not even really a question and Spencer doesn’t know if it is or isn’t, so he doesn’t say anything.
“Dude, you know that Brendon and Shane are......, right?” Spencer does roll his eyes this time. “Um, duh. They fuck in the bunk above mine.” Jon grins. “Yeah. Just. Checking, I guess.” Spencer needs a moment to process the slightly pink colour creeping over Jon’s cheeks. “Are you actually blushing?”
Jon takes the joint back and looks away and Spencer thinks oh yeah, straight. He imagines someone getting it on next to him at night, like - a chick. “Um. Look, if we...if you need us to be a bit more subtle about...you know. We could.”
Jon’s ever present grin turns into full blown laughter. “Subtle,” he chokes and there are actual tears in his eyes. “Ryan wouldn’t know subtle if it was subtle’s tongue up his ass instead of yours.” He pauses for a moment and shakes his head. “Ugh. No offense, man. But. Gross!” Spencer kinda gets it. He wouldn’t want images of Jon...and that’s why the thought stops right there, thank you. Cause he actually has some semblance of self-control.
“Still, though”, he persists, “what the hell is Shane yelling at me for?” The blush returns and Jon’s biting his lip and he looks guilty. Like, not even hand in the cookie jar guilty but caught with my dick up your boyfriend’s ass guilty. And Spencer didn’t need that thought either.
“I...I might have. Look, it just slipped out.” Spencer isn’t sure what did, but he doesn’t like the sound of that. Too much confessional. Too little dashboard. He really wants a new brain.
“Ikindamighthavementionedryansabitofakinkybitch” Jon blurts out and then studies his fingers. Spencer closes his eyes. He also wants a new band. And a fake ID. And possibly cosmetic surgery. He could buy a beach house in Cancun. “How...what the fuck, Jon?”
Jon still looks guilty, but there is the tiniest bit of a smirk and his eyes go all crinkly. “Look, I kinda heard. Also, if I hadn’t, dude, you guys are sorta obvious.”
Which is totally not true. Ryan and Spencer are fucking stealthy ninjas when it comes to. Oh shit. And how much exactly did Jon hear?
“I mean, Spence, you actually get him to shut up. You get Ryan Ross to shut the fuck up sometimes when he’s getting on one and really, how much more evidence does anyone need?”
Spencer groans. They’ve been friends for like ever. They’ve also been this, before there even was a band. Before there were girlfriends. While there were girlfriends, even. It’s second nature to them.
“So my guess would be Shane was asking you politely to reign your bitch in before he does it for you.” This time, Jon’s not even trying to make it sound like he isn’t grinning, although he’s ducked his head so Spencer can’t see it.
“What the -? Seriously, what the fuck?”
Jon lights the joint and takes a tiny drag, just to get it going properly before passing it on to Spencer. Who really fucking appreciates the gesture, no mistake about it, but still. What. The. Fuck.
“So you didn’t know,” Jon concludes and Spencer’s brain is running back through the conversation. He said he knew about Brendon and Shane, cause he does. But. Oh.
“Oh. You mean. Oh.” Suddenly, there are about fifty million images in his mind. All those situations that never added up, all that eye-contact that wasn’t couply and loving but something. Something so very familiar that he never even thought about it.
“Oh,” he repeats and Jon pats him on the back helpfully.
They sit in silence for a couple of minutes before Jon starts with the giggling again. Spencer raises an eyebrow. “I’m just...dude. First, there was William and Gabe. Then you two. Then Brendon and Shane. How the fuck do I end up in bands who. Like.” He giggles again and Spencer briefly closes his eyes to banish the thought of William and Gabe doing. That.
Which brings him back to the thought of Shane and Brendon doing. That. And he really needs to fucking get over himself and figure out what exactly he’d even call it. Cause to him, it’s actually not all that kinky or anything. It was just. Ryan needed it at the time and he rolled with it and it turned into the way they worked best.
They aren’t...there’s no leather and gags and weirdness like that. It’s just them, at their most honest with each other, at their most tuned in to the other person’s needs.
“So maybe you should have a chat with Shane about your beloved little brats,” Jon mumbles and there are still crinkly bits round his eyes, Spencer can see it.
“Fuck you.” It doesn’t sound like he means it, though. Probably because he doesn’t mean it one bit. Also, Jon is right. Of course he’s fucking right, cause he’s Jon Walker. He’s kind of awesome in that he can be right all the time without rubbing it in your face constantly.
Spencer isn’t even surprised when Shane seeks him out after the sound check and before the show. Sooner or later, he would have grown the balls to go talk to Shane, but. It’s nice that Shane doesn’t look pissed as hell anymore. He’s back to his usual laid-back self, at least on the surface. Spencer briefly wonders if his eyes always had that weird glint, but he’s probably just being paranoid now.
Shane apologizes quietly “for freaking out earlier” and his hand strays to the cigarettes in his jeans pocket, but he looks up at Spencer and puts the pack away again with a small shrug, as though he’s on Spencer’s turf here or something.
“I don’t mind if you smoke,” Spencer blurts out although he really fucking hates second-hand cancer fumes (pot doesn’t count). Shane smiles gratefully and lights up and Spencer really fucking hopes the nicotine will help Shane string a sentence together, cause he has absolutely no idea how to get from “so you’re dating our singer and are kinda pretty cool to have around” to “do you actually ever think of putting a collar on him?”. Which has totally never crossed his mind, come on.
Shane glances up at him and grins and Spencer wonders if the weird mind-melding thing that’s going on in the band has somehow extended to Shane. Which. Yeah, paranoid. Spencer is probably not cut out to be a stoner.
“This is weird”, Shane mumbles, grin still in place and Spencer finds himself smiling back tentatively. “Yeah.”
After that, there is a small pause before they both start talking simultaneously, Spencer blurting out something like “I don’t even -“. Shane closes his mouth and cocks an eyebrow, probably to indicate he’s listening. Shit. Mind-melding thing, seriously.
“I don’t even know what you guys...do. Or whatever. Just. Ryan and I, we’re. I’m pretty sure it’s different.” Shane keeps the eye contact up until Spencer really has to look away.
“It probably is. I mean, Ryan and Brendon, for one.” Which makes a weird lot of sense to Spencer even though maybe it wouldn’t to anyone else.
“I don’t wanna... you know, whatever works for you, just. Brendon gets pretty fucking upset. I don’t wanna. Shit.” He pauses for a moment and Spencer notices a hard line around his mouth before he continues. “Look, Spencer, I know this is the band and it’s none of my business, but I end up having to piece together Brendon every time Ryan decides something isn’t good enough and I just...”
Spencer is silent for a while, studying the way Shane is examining the worn linoleum and chewing on his lower lip. There’s something determined in the way his shoulders are set, but there is also something else, something tired and upset. Spencer remembers all the times he’s had to piece Ryan back together and he gets it so much that he kinda wants to hug Shane. Also, Ryan.
“Dude, the day I can get Ryan to stop acting like a pissy princess, I’ll let you know”, he mumbles and Shane laughs, short and surprised. Then, he nods at Spencer. “If anyone can, you will.” He walks off and Spencer just stares after him for a long moment before joining the other guys backstage.
The tension between Ryan and Brendon is palpable, like static crackling between the two opposite corners of the room, Ryan fixing his make-up while Brendon’s warming up his voice. He takes it a bit more seriously recently and Spencer suddenly wonders if Shane’s got anything to do with that. Spencer walks over to Ryan and briefly brushes a hand over the small of his back, which means a million things all at once, but mostly, it’s reassurance. Ryan smiles at him in the mirror and continues putting his eye-liner on.
Spencer leans forward a little bit to hook his chin over Ryan’s shoulder and he sees his own expression change in the mirror as he feels Ryan tense ever so slightly. “Ry, I want you to do something, okay?” They both know that it’s an order, but Spencer rarely phrases it that way. Ryan nods, barely noticeable.
“Say something nice to Brendon before the show. Can you do that for me?” Spencer watches as Ryan’s Adam’s apple jumps a little as he swallows, but then Ryan nods before finishing with the eye-liner.
Spencer doesn’t actually hear what Ryan says, but he sees Brendon smile and Ryan beams at him and the show turns out fucking awesome. Brendon’s always full of energy on stage and he’s pretty much always great at what he does, but there are nights when he’s justfree. It’s one of those nights and Ryan drapes an arm around Brendon’s shoulder as they walk off the stage and Shane’s there smiling at Spencer and Jon is biting his lip to control that unnatural grin and somehow, maybe this could work.