It's Just Curiosity [s/a]
Title: It's Just Curiosity [s/a]
Author: selectivelyurie
Beta: emmyatthedisco
Rating: R
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: Third
Summary: so the thing is, brendon needs ryan's dick.
Disclaimer: Don't believe anything you read on the internet, kids.
Author Notes: Have 5k words of my laziness ~artistic creativity. I started this back in April and got, um. Sidetracked? Heh.
so the thing is, brendon needs ryan's dick.
that sounds really derogatory, brendon is very well aware. but he can't seem to phrase it any other way and well. it's probably the best way to put it considering 'want', 'desire', and 'yearn for' would all imply that brendon's a big flaming homo and that's completely not true.
ahem.
okay, so maybe it's true. maybe. but brendon is awkward and dorky and flies just under the radar of completely moronic sometimes, so it's no surprise that he can't just admit that he would like to do vaguely sexual things with ryan. (possibly jon and spencer too, but definitely ryan.) he's tried ("hey ryan, could i stay at your place tonight?") numerous times ("dude, your couch is so uncomfortable. and it makes me itch", "what size is your bed?") to tell ryan that he's maybe gay ("no, dude. i'm completely comfortable", "well, i'm sorry, ryan. you obviously don't recognize a queen when you see one, do you? now stop compl- jesus christ, your feet are cold").
but as brendon has discovered through his search for personal awareness, ryan is kind of... dense. and maybe he is as painfully oblivious to brendon's inconspicuous (in-your-face-flashing-neon-light) hints as brendon is about things such as movie rental deadlines and speed limits and various other unimportant things.
but still. brendon would just like to know. for sure. if he's gay. cause lots of people go through times in life where they speculate their sexuality and/or fantasize about their best friend's hand around their cock. so brendon just wants to, you know, test it. see if it's right for him and whatnot. and really, brendon figures, it's all quite reasonable, to come to a conclusion such as this with someone he trusts. so he's going to go for it, take the plunge and walk right up to ryan and say, "i think i'm in gay love with you, can i make certain i'm not just in a mid-life crisis?"
well. in so many words, he will.
----
it starts off really innocent: brendon is on the other end of the couch as ryan and they're watching mythbusters on the flatscreen in the bus. he has his feet tucked into the gap in the cushions and ryan is looking exceptionally comfy pressed up against the armrest, eyes falling shut drowsily only to snap back open very dully. the lights are out but the television is blue and bright; ryan's skin is glowing and through his sleepiness, brendon itches to touch.
he pulls one foot out of the warmth of the crevice and pokes the boney lump of ryan's kneecap gently. ryan's leg twitches but his eyes remain on the screen so brendon pokes again, a little harder.
ryan sighs ("what, bren?") and looks down the couch with tired eyes. it's late and brendon sort of loves the fact that, while ryan is cranky, he is also easier to sway when he's sleepy. tucking his feet beneath him, brendon turns and crawls down the couch. his hands keep him balanced, one palm pressed into the edge of couch jutting out a little in front of ryan's stomach, and the other gripped around the backrest just over ryan's shoulder. ryan shuffles a little, trying to worm his way out from beneath brendon as he tries to snuggle up against ryan's side. he gives a few weak protests of "brendon, move" accompanied by a halfhearted elbow shove or irritated kick, but brendon presses his face into the side of ryan's stomach and ryan eases into the couch again, flailing hands falling to rest in brendon's hair and brendon hums.
"what are you doing, b?" ryan asks, amusement threaded through the exhaustion in his tone. "get back on your side of the couch."
"but i want you to be snuggly," brendon pouts softly and ryan laughs even softer through his nose, despite his aggravation.
"but i don't want to be snuggly," ryan complains and twists onto his back, brendon's head resting just above his hipbone. brendon wiggles up ryan's side and rests his head below ryan's shoulder and curls his fingers loosely in ryan's t-shirt. ryan groans impatiently and tries to swat brendon's hand away but brendon just creases his closed eyes even more in frustration and buries his face in ryan's warm neck.
"don' hit me," brendon moans into the side of ryan's throat. "i just want to sleep."
"then go back to the other end," ryan says, no longer amused. "you're squishing me."
"i'm tired," brendon says, "i don't wanna move. 'm comfortable."
ryan growls quietly and huffs, "well, i'm not," and pries brendon's fingers from his shirt before sitting up and moving to the end of the couch brendon abandoned, curling into an angry ball. brendon whimpers at the loss of ryan's warmth but sinks into the heat his body left lingering in the cushions. ryan makes snuffling noises and tucks into himself, settling in and brendon presses his foot out in the darkness and searches for the crease in the back of ryan's knee. ryan flinches at first but takes one last defiant huff before allowing brendon's foot to remain.
----
the second time brendon tries to leave ryan hints, he tries not to be as subtle. sure, crawling all over ryan in the middle of the night isn't exactly low key, but then again, ryan is usually very cuddly when he's sleepy like that and brendon just assumed that things would- okay so he assumed wrong, whatever. the point is, brendon is determined to make ryan aware of the concept that brendon might be willing to go down on him every second of the day. might be.
so brendon waits until the last day of tour - a show in california, of all places - and stares at ryan the entire way through soundcheck.
at first, ryan smiles back at him, makes this ridiculous face that he thinks is playful but only manages to make him look twelve. brendon goes with it though, dances over to ryan during their run through one of their older songs, dancing up on him like he used to and cupping ryan's face carefully like the makeup he used to wear was still fresh. ryan laughs at him, makes this dorky guffaw and backs away from his microphone so that no one can hear his snorting when brendon follows him with these really dark eyes and thrusting hips.
brendon laughs because ryan thinks he's joking. he totally isn't.
during the break between two songs, ryan's dicking around on his guitar, pressing different pedals to make his guitar squeal so loud even he winces, and brendon comes over.
"dude," ryan laughs, looking up at him as he approaches. "stage show is over, you can stop grinding on me now."
brendon grins and says, "what if i don't want to?" he chases ryan around the microphone and he's never heard ryan giggle like he is, hopping away and pretending to shoot brendon with the aimed neck of his guitar. brendon plays along, clutching his chest and buckling his knees a little further each time ryan strums out a hard chord and brendon wails, "your guitar playing! it's killing me!" before collapsing to the ground dramatically.
ryan pumps his fist in victory and laughs when brendon twitches his leg for emphasis. spencer does a quick, powerful drum solo from behind them and says, "quit playing around, girls. save some gay for the show tonight."
a little later, when they're wrapping up lying is the most fun..., some of ryan's giddiness has worn off and when brendon hops over to his side of the stage, ryan makes a face and says, "get off my side of the stage, urie. you're tainting it."
brendon smirks at him and says, "it's the last soundcheck of tour, ross. i'm going to taint any and everything of yours while i still can."
when they finish up, brendon comes up behind ryan and hugs him around the middle. ryan does a flinch-y thing at first and swats at brendon's hands but brendon just holds him tighter and nuzzles his face into the back of ryan's neck.
ryan groans, "god, brendon, gross. you're drenched, you sweaty bastard. get off me." and brendon giggles and may or may not press a quick kiss into the side of ryan's throat.
he's going with a 'may' though, in fact, a definite 'may' judging by how stiff ryan gets and how quiet he becomes.
"um, brendon. did you just -?"
"just what?"
"just kiss my neck?"
brendon makes a noise similar to both a scoff and a choke and looks at ryan like he's crazy, "what are you talking about?"
"brendon, you just kissed me. on the neck. what the fuck."
"i did not kiss you on the neck, ross."
"you most certainly did."
"i most certainly did not."
"brendon, you kissed my neck."
"prove it."
"i have blow-pop residue on my skin."
brendon looks down at the lollipop in his hand and says, "this isn't mine...?"
ryan raises an eyebrow and says, "suuuuuuuuure" before giving brendon the once over and slinking off towards the bus.
----
brendon barges into ryan's house holding a clipboard and ryan stops mid-chew of his granola bar to quirk an eyebrow.
"hello?"
"ryan, i need to talk to you," brendon says, headstrong and determined as he paces over to ryan's kitchen. ryan's seated up on the counter in only his boxers and socks and brendon stops in front of him, dead center.
"what's up, bill nye?"
oh, and brendon's kind of wearing a lab coat, too.
"i'm doing an experiment," brendon states, tapping his clipboard with his pen. ryan nods slowly and asks what kind. "if i tell you, i run the risk of altering the otherwise controlled experiment. i'll tell you when i've come to my conclusion."
ryan stares at him for a minute, calculating, and then says, "well, if you need any hair samples or anything, you might want to come back later, like. way, way later. i just smoked the rest of that shit jon left before he went back to chicago."
"is that why you're on the counter?" brendon asks.
ryan shakes his head, "no, i just agreed to let peter use the kitchen today."
"pete's here? i didn't see his car outside."
"no, no. not that pete," ryan says. he points to the floor, "that pete."
brendon looks down to see a small mouse perched on an unrigged mousetrap, nibbling on a piece of food. brendon shrieks and hops onto the counter. "the fuck? you named that thing?!"
"yeah," ryan shrugs. "dude, it's so funny, too. out of all of them-"
"there's more?!"
"-he's the smallest and the most annoying. isn't that ironically hilarious?" ryan laughs, pinching off piece of his granola bar and tossing it to the mouse.
brendon crinkles his nose and steps down carefully. "so, are you going to let me experiment with you? er- are you going to help me with this experiment?"
ryan watches brendon bite his lip and shrugs. "sure. what'd'ya need?"
"i need you to get naked."
if no one has ever literally choked on surprise, ryan just did. or, well- his granola bar. "what?"
"i need you. to get naked," brendon says more clearly, crisp and sharp and easy for ryan to understand through his shock. both of ryan's eyebrows are lifted and brendon adds, "okay, so maybe you don't have to get naked, but i need to know how big your penis is."
the size of ryan's eyes grow exceptionally larger and he blinks once, twice, six slow times before brendon chuckles uncomfortably and ryan asks a very slow, "why?"
"well i read on the internet that the average size is around three to four inches and i want to know if you're in that average."
again, ryan blinks, this time four times and brendon adds, "don't worry, i'm going to ask jon and spencer, too. and i'm going to measure myself so..."
"um," ryan says, scratching his leg with his socked foot. "what brought this on?"
brendon shrugs and smiles innocently, "curiosity."
"you're not going to like, take pictures of it or anything, are you?" ryan asks cautiously. "i don't want to end up like pete."
mentally, brendon curses himself but shakes his head. "no, no of course not. just going to measure and document. that's all."
ryan takes another long look and slides off the counter. "okay. but i swear to god, if you touch it, i'll-"
"calm down, ross. i just need to look. you can hold the tape measure." brendon reaches into his coat pocket to retrieve said measure and ryan stands awkwardly before him. brendon blinks. "what?"
"turn around!" ryan whines, fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers as he waits for brendon impatiently. brendon rolls his eyes but obeys, spinning around so ryan can drop his underwear.
"tell me when," brendon sighs and ryan clears his throat.
"o-okay," ryan says quietly and when brendon turns around, ryan is covering himself with his large hands, face already bright red.
brendon doesn't mention it and says, "here," and hands him the tape measure.
taking it with one hand and leaving the other in place, ryan grimaces. "okay, just. do i put the end on the -?" he pauses, as if he's embarrassed to go on.
"yes, you put the end of the tape measure on the base of your penis, ryan."
ryan flinches at brendon's emphasis and takes a breath. he does as brendon instructs and when his hands are relatively still, brendon looks over the wall of ryan's hand to see ryan has reached about four. but like, there's ryan's penis just. there. in ryan's hand. and it's totally on the higher end of the average brendon read about.
sweet.
"four inches," brendon says as he jots down the info and ryan yelps at him.
"hey, asshole!"
"i needed to make sure you weren't lying. the information has to be factual or else this is going to screw up my experiment," brendon explains. ryan grumbles and brendon clicks his pen. "now, get hard for me, ross."
ryan audibly dies a little inside and he scrambles to pull up his boxers. "what the fuck, brendon?!"
"i need the length of your penis flaccid -" (brendon takes a moment to internally cringe at that word. ew.) "- and the length of your penis erect." ryan gulps. "now, pop one for me."
ryan chuckles uncomfortably and steps forward to wrap his arm around brendon's shoulder. "look, bren, i'm glad you came over to chat. and i'm glad you wanted me to be involved with your experiment, but it's getting really late and i have plans with kate so i'll text you later okay thanks goodnight bye."
before brendon can even think straight, ryan has shut the front door to his house on him and locked it behind him. ryan totally just maneuvered brendon through his house without brendon being aware of it, but hey, who can blame brendon for being in such a daze? because ryan's penis is four inches when he's not thinking about sexy things.
brendon can only imagine the damage it could do when he is.
but yeah, anyway. new plan...
----
ryan totally didn't help brendon with his experiment the way he said he would, so he totally owes brendon. because, a broken promise is something that needs to be made up for, right? brendon agrees.
so it's really not as big of a scandal as ryan likes to think it is when brendon plops down next to ryan in jon's living room and asks if he can give him a blowjob.
of course, ryan is still for a moment. frozen, unmoving, shocked. finally he opens his mouth and says, "um, i'm going to have to pretend i never heard you say that, brendon."
"okay, before you say no, let me explain." ryan looks like brendon just told him his entire wardrobe of ridiculous shirts and awkward pants had just been tossed into lake michigan. "so chicago is supposed to be really cold, right? like, at least this time of year, mid february, right? well, it's not. and i told my mom i wasn't going to be able to make it to my uncle mick's wedding because i was sick and well, at the time i told her this i thought i was going to be by the time his wedding rolls around. i mean, every time we visit jon i at least get the sniffles, you know. but i haven't gotten sick yet and if she finds out i lied to her she'll be really mad and all i want you to do is let me give you head so that i can like, speed up the process. is there any way you could do that for me? if anything, i can probably get away with just a sore throat."
ryan gets up calmly and leaves the living room without a word.
----
spencer never should have let brendon watch csi because now brendon is pacing around his house a jumpy mess and spencer can't even cook without brendon asking some kind of ridiculous question.
"but did you see what they did to that woman, spencer?" brendon asks, in a disgusted awe. "you couldn't even recognize her. her face was all -" he makes a strangled sound and shakes his whole body in disturbed chills. "and her family could hardly identify her. that's so fucked up! i mean, if it hadn't been for that birthmark on her foot they would have never -"
"brendon, i'm trying to cook. could you either a) shut up or b) go bug ryan? because if you make me burn this pasta, i'm going to turn your life into an episode of csi and they won't be able to identify you when i'm done."
with an indignant huff, brendon stalks off onto the back porch and catches ryan in the middle of a song on guitar. "ryan, spencer is being a bitch."
not looking up from his finger placement, ryan says, "and you're being annoying. everything is as it usually is."
"no, ryan. really. that episode was awful. she had no face, man. i mean, what- what if something like that happened to one of us?" brendon's voice gets quieter, like it does when he's worried or shy. "what if one of us gets into an accident, like a bad car wreck or a plane crash or kidnapped by a serial killer, and no one can identify us?"
"brendon, you're being paranoid. besides, the only person who would be in a bad car wreck is you, you fucking maniac. you drive like a damn bat out of hell."
"i'm being serious, ryan. i would want you to be able to identify me."
"if you ever get into an accident so bad that your face is mangled beyond repair and you are either dead or a vegetable and therefore unable to give the doctors your name, i will be able to take one look at your huge ass and identify you. or i'll see your tattoo, either one. do not fret."
"i'm not talking about my ass - however, thank you for noticing that it is quite a distinguishable trait of mine - i'm talking about birthmarks. freckles, scars, things of that nature."
ryan rolls his eyes and says, "fine. you have a freckle above your left eyebrow."
"MY FACE WOULD BE MANGLED, RYAN!"
"jesus, brendon, i don't know the very outline of every fucking marking on your body! i have more important things to concern myself with."
"but if i end up in lying on some cold hospital bed with no one to claim me, you're going to wish that you had listened to me."
"you're not going to, so stop worrying." brendon sighs and begins unbuttoning his pants. "what are you doing?" ryan asks.
brendon lets his jeans drop to the ground and he pulls up his boxers just enough to reveal a soft brown birthmark on the top of his thigh. "this is one of my birthmarks. i have four; this one, however, looks a little like elvis."
ryan sighs heavily and rolls his eyes. "brendon, i really don't-"
"this is a scar i got when i was twelve," brendon continues, pointing at his knee. "i fell off the tire swing at church camp and fell onto a rock. i bled for thirty minutes."
ryan pinches the bridge of his nose as brendon carries on pointing out various spots painting his body. "look -"
"and if you line this freckle up with this one, this one, this one and this one," brendon says, poking each individually. "it makes a really weird looking 'B' which is, y'know, pretty cool cause my name starts with a 'B'."
"yeah, that's -" ryan forces a fake smile and prays spencer will hurry up with the spaghetti and come save him.
"so now that i've showed you all of the ways to identify me," brendon says, zipping his pants back up. "you get to show me all of yours."
immediately, ryan thinks of the freckle on the crease of his thigh, the birthmark on the top of his hip and he says, "i'm not showing you my birthmarks."
"c'mon, ryan. i've already seen your dick, there's not much more after that," brendon says.
"you can go by my tattoos. unless i've slit my wrists to the point that you can't see those. then i guess you're shit out of luck. but i'm not removing my clothes for you again."
brendon goes over to stand in front of ryan and takes his guitar. "this is a serious matter, ryan. i want to be able to identify you if you end up in the morgue."
"i'm not taking my clothes off, brendon. i have tattoos on my wrists and on the back of my arms. that's all you need to know to identify me. unless you want to take another look at my dick, since you know what that looks like now, too."
ryan goes to stand up, to go back into the house and help spencer make the spaghetti sauce or possibly lock himself in the bathroom until it's time to eat but brendon moves in front of him.
"look, just let me see one birthmark," brendon asks, tugging at the hem of ryan's shirt. "i just want one good look. that way if you die-"
"BRENDON! STOP TRYING TO TAKE MY CLOTHES OFF!"
"you could die, ryan. and i wouldn't know who you were!"
"i'm not going to die and even if i did, i'm fairly sure i won't be indistinguishable. stop being so weird."
"I AM NOT BEING WEIRD, I'M BEING CONCERNED."
"YEAH, CONCERNED WITH SEEING ME NAKED."
"I NEVER SAID I WANTED TO SEE YOU NAKED."
"BRENDON, YOU HAVE BEEN A COMPLETE AND TOTAL CREEP THE LAST FOUR WEEKS. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?"
the yelling stops and brendon's face contorts into this hurt sort of shock and his eyebrows surge up a little like he's confused. ryan's panting a little and he reaches up to wipe his mouth a little and brendon just stares, eyes searching. "w-what?"
"you heard me, brendon," ryan says, his normal monotone cutting deeper than brendon expected. "you've been acting weird for a while now and i don't know why."
brendon visibly deflates and stares at the ground. ryan's still breathing hard and he's glaring at the top of brendon's head like he's ready to cut it off and brendon just mumbles, "i'm sorry," before turning around to walk into the house.
it's stupid, he knows it is. he's been trying to seduce ryan for weeks now and nothing is working and now all it's boiled down to is brendon being a failure and ryan thinking he's a giant creep. and worst of all, brendon still doesn't know if he's gay or not. fuck.
"i have a scar- um. above my right collarbone." brendon freezes with his hand on the doorknob and ryan swallows. "and a birthmark at the bottom of my spine."
brendon nods and gives a quiet thanks before going in anyway.
----
spencer takes one look at brendon when he enters the kitchen and says, "brendon, you know i love you. but get the fuck out of my kitchen."
brendon's frown deepens but he doesn't acknowledge spencer as he sits down at the bar, just holds his head in his hands and sighs, "spencer, i think i'm gay for ryan."
there's pasta sauce all over the floor.
"what?"
brendon sighs again, heavier this time and says, "i keep trying to make sure but he's so oblivious. spencer, why is ryan so oblivious?"
spencer blinks, still trying to register brendon's first statement. "um. because he's ryan."
"i'm in the middle of a sexual crisis here and when i offer him a blowjob in exchange for helping me out, all he does is walk out of the room. i don't-"
"wait, wait. you offered him a blowjob?"
brendon shrugs, "well. yeah."
spencer's eye twitches.
"i mean, i'm just trying to decide if i have a permanent hard-on for him or if i just really need to get laid."
"brendon, i don't think i'm the per-"
"but i mean, if it was just sex then i could have hooked up with that one chick at the bar last week. and i haven't given up, so maybe it is just about ryan and not-"
"BRENDON!"
"...what?"
spencer sighs and laments his ruined pasta sauce for a moment. "just tell him."
brendon quirks an eyebrow, "tell him what?"
"that you want his dick."
brendon gapes and looks scandalized. "but that's so-"
"obvious? yes, i've noticed." spencer gives brendon the once over. "but it's also the only way you're going to make things clear to ryan. he's oblivious, remember?"
there's a small wince and then brendon says, "yeah. yeah, i guess you're right."
"yeah, so," spencer waves dismissively. "go be gay somewhere else."
brendon nods dutifully and heads back outside.
----
ryan's talking on the phone when brendon gets out on the patio and brendon clears his throat. ryan spins around in the middle of a laugh and his eyes are so bright, so clear that brendon almost forgets what his intent was. ryan's smile doesn't falter as he looks at brendon, he only laughs a little more and says, "shut up you stupid fucker," into the phone and turns around again, kicking at the ground.
brendon takes a step forward and clears his throat. "um, ryan."
"hang on one second, alex," ryan says with that same humor in his tone and he covers the mouthpiece with his hand before he looks over at brendon again. "what, bren?"
"i need to talk to you."
"well, i'm on the phone. can it wait?"
"uh- no. no i don't think-"
"dude, shut up. i'm sick of hearing about that shit," ryan blurts back into the phone through a few giggles, cutting brendon off abruptly. "no! oh my god, you are such a dick!"
brendon shifts uncomfortably and moves to touch ryan's shoulder but stops hesitantly. "ryan, i-"
ryan looks back up at brendon and tells alex, "hang on again," before addressing brendon with "look, tell spencer i'll be inside in a minute. just let me finish up this-"
"i think i'm gay-"
ryan looks unfazed when he rolls his eyes and sighs, "yes, tell me something i don't know."
"-for you."
"alex, i swear to god, if you don't- wait, what?" ryan's eyes snap back up to brendon and he's got his phone clenched in his hand down by his hip, full attention turned to brendon now.
brendon shuffles again and stands up straight, "i've been trying to decide for the past few weeks so that would probably explain why you think i've been acting so weird but the other day you when we were leaving that thai food place i hate but only go to because you want me to, you bent over to flick some dirt off your shoe and i couldn't stop staring at your ass and i lied when i told you that i think i ate some bad chicken when we got back to your house because i went into your bathroom and jerked off thinking about your fingers wrapped around those chopsticks you were eating with and i came so hard i almost broke your towel rack so pretty much what i'm trying to say is that i'd really like to have lots and lots of sex with you because i can hardly look at you without wanting to grope you and i only have so much self control."
brendon is panting and ryan is staring and there's an annoying sound coming from the palm of ryan's hand.
"um. alex? let me call you back," ryan says before hanging up and pocketing his phone.
brendon watches ryan's hand disappear into his side pocket and meets ryan's eyes when he's smoothing it down. brendon blinks.
"so let me get this straight," ryan starts, "you've been acting like a total creep because you're gay? for me?"
brendon nods.
"and you're telling me this because you want to have sex with me?"
brendon nods again.
ryan's stare hardens for a second and fuck, he's going to kill brendon. but then his face relaxes and he shrugs and says, "okay, sure."
brendon hears a plate crash in the kitchen and spencer curses. yeah, that's brendon's reaction too.
"so... um. you want to have sex with me, too?"
"yeah."
"oh, well. that's cool."
"yeah."
there's a moment of silence, a few short casual hums and a bird flies overhead and brendon is surveying the backyard like he's actually interested in the shrubs spencer planted.
"you can come kiss me now, you know," ryan informs him.
"oh, yeah. yeah, okay," brendon laughs and crosses the length of the patio so quickly he’s practically stumbling into ryan. and he smiles awkwardly up at ryan before pressing their lips together, too hesitant, too shy. too is this okay?
so ryan laughs against his mouth before pinching brendon’s bottom lip between his teeth and pushing him up against spencer's charcoal grill, showing him just how okay everything about this situation really is.
end.
oh, and thank you so much slashatthedisco for rejecting my fic because i didn't use capitalization.
i'm sorry that you have a problem with the way i express myself.
;____;
Author: selectivelyurie
Beta: emmyatthedisco
Rating: R
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: Third
Summary: so the thing is, brendon needs ryan's dick.
Disclaimer: Don't believe anything you read on the internet, kids.
Author Notes: Have 5k words of my laziness ~artistic creativity. I started this back in April and got, um. Sidetracked? Heh.
so the thing is, brendon needs ryan's dick.
that sounds really derogatory, brendon is very well aware. but he can't seem to phrase it any other way and well. it's probably the best way to put it considering 'want', 'desire', and 'yearn for' would all imply that brendon's a big flaming homo and that's completely not true.
ahem.
okay, so maybe it's true. maybe. but brendon is awkward and dorky and flies just under the radar of completely moronic sometimes, so it's no surprise that he can't just admit that he would like to do vaguely sexual things with ryan. (possibly jon and spencer too, but definitely ryan.) he's tried ("hey ryan, could i stay at your place tonight?") numerous times ("dude, your couch is so uncomfortable. and it makes me itch", "what size is your bed?") to tell ryan that he's maybe gay ("no, dude. i'm completely comfortable", "well, i'm sorry, ryan. you obviously don't recognize a queen when you see one, do you? now stop compl- jesus christ, your feet are cold").
but as brendon has discovered through his search for personal awareness, ryan is kind of... dense. and maybe he is as painfully oblivious to brendon's inconspicuous (in-your-face-flashing-neon-light) hints as brendon is about things such as movie rental deadlines and speed limits and various other unimportant things.
but still. brendon would just like to know. for sure. if he's gay. cause lots of people go through times in life where they speculate their sexuality and/or fantasize about their best friend's hand around their cock. so brendon just wants to, you know, test it. see if it's right for him and whatnot. and really, brendon figures, it's all quite reasonable, to come to a conclusion such as this with someone he trusts. so he's going to go for it, take the plunge and walk right up to ryan and say, "i think i'm in gay love with you, can i make certain i'm not just in a mid-life crisis?"
well. in so many words, he will.
----
it starts off really innocent: brendon is on the other end of the couch as ryan and they're watching mythbusters on the flatscreen in the bus. he has his feet tucked into the gap in the cushions and ryan is looking exceptionally comfy pressed up against the armrest, eyes falling shut drowsily only to snap back open very dully. the lights are out but the television is blue and bright; ryan's skin is glowing and through his sleepiness, brendon itches to touch.
he pulls one foot out of the warmth of the crevice and pokes the boney lump of ryan's kneecap gently. ryan's leg twitches but his eyes remain on the screen so brendon pokes again, a little harder.
ryan sighs ("what, bren?") and looks down the couch with tired eyes. it's late and brendon sort of loves the fact that, while ryan is cranky, he is also easier to sway when he's sleepy. tucking his feet beneath him, brendon turns and crawls down the couch. his hands keep him balanced, one palm pressed into the edge of couch jutting out a little in front of ryan's stomach, and the other gripped around the backrest just over ryan's shoulder. ryan shuffles a little, trying to worm his way out from beneath brendon as he tries to snuggle up against ryan's side. he gives a few weak protests of "brendon, move" accompanied by a halfhearted elbow shove or irritated kick, but brendon presses his face into the side of ryan's stomach and ryan eases into the couch again, flailing hands falling to rest in brendon's hair and brendon hums.
"what are you doing, b?" ryan asks, amusement threaded through the exhaustion in his tone. "get back on your side of the couch."
"but i want you to be snuggly," brendon pouts softly and ryan laughs even softer through his nose, despite his aggravation.
"but i don't want to be snuggly," ryan complains and twists onto his back, brendon's head resting just above his hipbone. brendon wiggles up ryan's side and rests his head below ryan's shoulder and curls his fingers loosely in ryan's t-shirt. ryan groans impatiently and tries to swat brendon's hand away but brendon just creases his closed eyes even more in frustration and buries his face in ryan's warm neck.
"don' hit me," brendon moans into the side of ryan's throat. "i just want to sleep."
"then go back to the other end," ryan says, no longer amused. "you're squishing me."
"i'm tired," brendon says, "i don't wanna move. 'm comfortable."
ryan growls quietly and huffs, "well, i'm not," and pries brendon's fingers from his shirt before sitting up and moving to the end of the couch brendon abandoned, curling into an angry ball. brendon whimpers at the loss of ryan's warmth but sinks into the heat his body left lingering in the cushions. ryan makes snuffling noises and tucks into himself, settling in and brendon presses his foot out in the darkness and searches for the crease in the back of ryan's knee. ryan flinches at first but takes one last defiant huff before allowing brendon's foot to remain.
----
the second time brendon tries to leave ryan hints, he tries not to be as subtle. sure, crawling all over ryan in the middle of the night isn't exactly low key, but then again, ryan is usually very cuddly when he's sleepy like that and brendon just assumed that things would- okay so he assumed wrong, whatever. the point is, brendon is determined to make ryan aware of the concept that brendon might be willing to go down on him every second of the day. might be.
so brendon waits until the last day of tour - a show in california, of all places - and stares at ryan the entire way through soundcheck.
at first, ryan smiles back at him, makes this ridiculous face that he thinks is playful but only manages to make him look twelve. brendon goes with it though, dances over to ryan during their run through one of their older songs, dancing up on him like he used to and cupping ryan's face carefully like the makeup he used to wear was still fresh. ryan laughs at him, makes this dorky guffaw and backs away from his microphone so that no one can hear his snorting when brendon follows him with these really dark eyes and thrusting hips.
brendon laughs because ryan thinks he's joking. he totally isn't.
during the break between two songs, ryan's dicking around on his guitar, pressing different pedals to make his guitar squeal so loud even he winces, and brendon comes over.
"dude," ryan laughs, looking up at him as he approaches. "stage show is over, you can stop grinding on me now."
brendon grins and says, "what if i don't want to?" he chases ryan around the microphone and he's never heard ryan giggle like he is, hopping away and pretending to shoot brendon with the aimed neck of his guitar. brendon plays along, clutching his chest and buckling his knees a little further each time ryan strums out a hard chord and brendon wails, "your guitar playing! it's killing me!" before collapsing to the ground dramatically.
ryan pumps his fist in victory and laughs when brendon twitches his leg for emphasis. spencer does a quick, powerful drum solo from behind them and says, "quit playing around, girls. save some gay for the show tonight."
a little later, when they're wrapping up lying is the most fun..., some of ryan's giddiness has worn off and when brendon hops over to his side of the stage, ryan makes a face and says, "get off my side of the stage, urie. you're tainting it."
brendon smirks at him and says, "it's the last soundcheck of tour, ross. i'm going to taint any and everything of yours while i still can."
when they finish up, brendon comes up behind ryan and hugs him around the middle. ryan does a flinch-y thing at first and swats at brendon's hands but brendon just holds him tighter and nuzzles his face into the back of ryan's neck.
ryan groans, "god, brendon, gross. you're drenched, you sweaty bastard. get off me." and brendon giggles and may or may not press a quick kiss into the side of ryan's throat.
he's going with a 'may' though, in fact, a definite 'may' judging by how stiff ryan gets and how quiet he becomes.
"um, brendon. did you just -?"
"just what?"
"just kiss my neck?"
brendon makes a noise similar to both a scoff and a choke and looks at ryan like he's crazy, "what are you talking about?"
"brendon, you just kissed me. on the neck. what the fuck."
"i did not kiss you on the neck, ross."
"you most certainly did."
"i most certainly did not."
"brendon, you kissed my neck."
"prove it."
"i have blow-pop residue on my skin."
brendon looks down at the lollipop in his hand and says, "this isn't mine...?"
ryan raises an eyebrow and says, "suuuuuuuuure" before giving brendon the once over and slinking off towards the bus.
----
brendon barges into ryan's house holding a clipboard and ryan stops mid-chew of his granola bar to quirk an eyebrow.
"hello?"
"ryan, i need to talk to you," brendon says, headstrong and determined as he paces over to ryan's kitchen. ryan's seated up on the counter in only his boxers and socks and brendon stops in front of him, dead center.
"what's up, bill nye?"
oh, and brendon's kind of wearing a lab coat, too.
"i'm doing an experiment," brendon states, tapping his clipboard with his pen. ryan nods slowly and asks what kind. "if i tell you, i run the risk of altering the otherwise controlled experiment. i'll tell you when i've come to my conclusion."
ryan stares at him for a minute, calculating, and then says, "well, if you need any hair samples or anything, you might want to come back later, like. way, way later. i just smoked the rest of that shit jon left before he went back to chicago."
"is that why you're on the counter?" brendon asks.
ryan shakes his head, "no, i just agreed to let peter use the kitchen today."
"pete's here? i didn't see his car outside."
"no, no. not that pete," ryan says. he points to the floor, "that pete."
brendon looks down to see a small mouse perched on an unrigged mousetrap, nibbling on a piece of food. brendon shrieks and hops onto the counter. "the fuck? you named that thing?!"
"yeah," ryan shrugs. "dude, it's so funny, too. out of all of them-"
"there's more?!"
"-he's the smallest and the most annoying. isn't that ironically hilarious?" ryan laughs, pinching off piece of his granola bar and tossing it to the mouse.
brendon crinkles his nose and steps down carefully. "so, are you going to let me experiment with you? er- are you going to help me with this experiment?"
ryan watches brendon bite his lip and shrugs. "sure. what'd'ya need?"
"i need you to get naked."
if no one has ever literally choked on surprise, ryan just did. or, well- his granola bar. "what?"
"i need you. to get naked," brendon says more clearly, crisp and sharp and easy for ryan to understand through his shock. both of ryan's eyebrows are lifted and brendon adds, "okay, so maybe you don't have to get naked, but i need to know how big your penis is."
the size of ryan's eyes grow exceptionally larger and he blinks once, twice, six slow times before brendon chuckles uncomfortably and ryan asks a very slow, "why?"
"well i read on the internet that the average size is around three to four inches and i want to know if you're in that average."
again, ryan blinks, this time four times and brendon adds, "don't worry, i'm going to ask jon and spencer, too. and i'm going to measure myself so..."
"um," ryan says, scratching his leg with his socked foot. "what brought this on?"
brendon shrugs and smiles innocently, "curiosity."
"you're not going to like, take pictures of it or anything, are you?" ryan asks cautiously. "i don't want to end up like pete."
mentally, brendon curses himself but shakes his head. "no, no of course not. just going to measure and document. that's all."
ryan takes another long look and slides off the counter. "okay. but i swear to god, if you touch it, i'll-"
"calm down, ross. i just need to look. you can hold the tape measure." brendon reaches into his coat pocket to retrieve said measure and ryan stands awkwardly before him. brendon blinks. "what?"
"turn around!" ryan whines, fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers as he waits for brendon impatiently. brendon rolls his eyes but obeys, spinning around so ryan can drop his underwear.
"tell me when," brendon sighs and ryan clears his throat.
"o-okay," ryan says quietly and when brendon turns around, ryan is covering himself with his large hands, face already bright red.
brendon doesn't mention it and says, "here," and hands him the tape measure.
taking it with one hand and leaving the other in place, ryan grimaces. "okay, just. do i put the end on the -?" he pauses, as if he's embarrassed to go on.
"yes, you put the end of the tape measure on the base of your penis, ryan."
ryan flinches at brendon's emphasis and takes a breath. he does as brendon instructs and when his hands are relatively still, brendon looks over the wall of ryan's hand to see ryan has reached about four. but like, there's ryan's penis just. there. in ryan's hand. and it's totally on the higher end of the average brendon read about.
sweet.
"four inches," brendon says as he jots down the info and ryan yelps at him.
"hey, asshole!"
"i needed to make sure you weren't lying. the information has to be factual or else this is going to screw up my experiment," brendon explains. ryan grumbles and brendon clicks his pen. "now, get hard for me, ross."
ryan audibly dies a little inside and he scrambles to pull up his boxers. "what the fuck, brendon?!"
"i need the length of your penis flaccid -" (brendon takes a moment to internally cringe at that word. ew.) "- and the length of your penis erect." ryan gulps. "now, pop one for me."
ryan chuckles uncomfortably and steps forward to wrap his arm around brendon's shoulder. "look, bren, i'm glad you came over to chat. and i'm glad you wanted me to be involved with your experiment, but it's getting really late and i have plans with kate so i'll text you later okay thanks goodnight bye."
before brendon can even think straight, ryan has shut the front door to his house on him and locked it behind him. ryan totally just maneuvered brendon through his house without brendon being aware of it, but hey, who can blame brendon for being in such a daze? because ryan's penis is four inches when he's not thinking about sexy things.
brendon can only imagine the damage it could do when he is.
but yeah, anyway. new plan...
----
ryan totally didn't help brendon with his experiment the way he said he would, so he totally owes brendon. because, a broken promise is something that needs to be made up for, right? brendon agrees.
so it's really not as big of a scandal as ryan likes to think it is when brendon plops down next to ryan in jon's living room and asks if he can give him a blowjob.
of course, ryan is still for a moment. frozen, unmoving, shocked. finally he opens his mouth and says, "um, i'm going to have to pretend i never heard you say that, brendon."
"okay, before you say no, let me explain." ryan looks like brendon just told him his entire wardrobe of ridiculous shirts and awkward pants had just been tossed into lake michigan. "so chicago is supposed to be really cold, right? like, at least this time of year, mid february, right? well, it's not. and i told my mom i wasn't going to be able to make it to my uncle mick's wedding because i was sick and well, at the time i told her this i thought i was going to be by the time his wedding rolls around. i mean, every time we visit jon i at least get the sniffles, you know. but i haven't gotten sick yet and if she finds out i lied to her she'll be really mad and all i want you to do is let me give you head so that i can like, speed up the process. is there any way you could do that for me? if anything, i can probably get away with just a sore throat."
ryan gets up calmly and leaves the living room without a word.
----
spencer never should have let brendon watch csi because now brendon is pacing around his house a jumpy mess and spencer can't even cook without brendon asking some kind of ridiculous question.
"but did you see what they did to that woman, spencer?" brendon asks, in a disgusted awe. "you couldn't even recognize her. her face was all -" he makes a strangled sound and shakes his whole body in disturbed chills. "and her family could hardly identify her. that's so fucked up! i mean, if it hadn't been for that birthmark on her foot they would have never -"
"brendon, i'm trying to cook. could you either a) shut up or b) go bug ryan? because if you make me burn this pasta, i'm going to turn your life into an episode of csi and they won't be able to identify you when i'm done."
with an indignant huff, brendon stalks off onto the back porch and catches ryan in the middle of a song on guitar. "ryan, spencer is being a bitch."
not looking up from his finger placement, ryan says, "and you're being annoying. everything is as it usually is."
"no, ryan. really. that episode was awful. she had no face, man. i mean, what- what if something like that happened to one of us?" brendon's voice gets quieter, like it does when he's worried or shy. "what if one of us gets into an accident, like a bad car wreck or a plane crash or kidnapped by a serial killer, and no one can identify us?"
"brendon, you're being paranoid. besides, the only person who would be in a bad car wreck is you, you fucking maniac. you drive like a damn bat out of hell."
"i'm being serious, ryan. i would want you to be able to identify me."
"if you ever get into an accident so bad that your face is mangled beyond repair and you are either dead or a vegetable and therefore unable to give the doctors your name, i will be able to take one look at your huge ass and identify you. or i'll see your tattoo, either one. do not fret."
"i'm not talking about my ass - however, thank you for noticing that it is quite a distinguishable trait of mine - i'm talking about birthmarks. freckles, scars, things of that nature."
ryan rolls his eyes and says, "fine. you have a freckle above your left eyebrow."
"MY FACE WOULD BE MANGLED, RYAN!"
"jesus, brendon, i don't know the very outline of every fucking marking on your body! i have more important things to concern myself with."
"but if i end up in lying on some cold hospital bed with no one to claim me, you're going to wish that you had listened to me."
"you're not going to, so stop worrying." brendon sighs and begins unbuttoning his pants. "what are you doing?" ryan asks.
brendon lets his jeans drop to the ground and he pulls up his boxers just enough to reveal a soft brown birthmark on the top of his thigh. "this is one of my birthmarks. i have four; this one, however, looks a little like elvis."
ryan sighs heavily and rolls his eyes. "brendon, i really don't-"
"this is a scar i got when i was twelve," brendon continues, pointing at his knee. "i fell off the tire swing at church camp and fell onto a rock. i bled for thirty minutes."
ryan pinches the bridge of his nose as brendon carries on pointing out various spots painting his body. "look -"
"and if you line this freckle up with this one, this one, this one and this one," brendon says, poking each individually. "it makes a really weird looking 'B' which is, y'know, pretty cool cause my name starts with a 'B'."
"yeah, that's -" ryan forces a fake smile and prays spencer will hurry up with the spaghetti and come save him.
"so now that i've showed you all of the ways to identify me," brendon says, zipping his pants back up. "you get to show me all of yours."
immediately, ryan thinks of the freckle on the crease of his thigh, the birthmark on the top of his hip and he says, "i'm not showing you my birthmarks."
"c'mon, ryan. i've already seen your dick, there's not much more after that," brendon says.
"you can go by my tattoos. unless i've slit my wrists to the point that you can't see those. then i guess you're shit out of luck. but i'm not removing my clothes for you again."
brendon goes over to stand in front of ryan and takes his guitar. "this is a serious matter, ryan. i want to be able to identify you if you end up in the morgue."
"i'm not taking my clothes off, brendon. i have tattoos on my wrists and on the back of my arms. that's all you need to know to identify me. unless you want to take another look at my dick, since you know what that looks like now, too."
ryan goes to stand up, to go back into the house and help spencer make the spaghetti sauce or possibly lock himself in the bathroom until it's time to eat but brendon moves in front of him.
"look, just let me see one birthmark," brendon asks, tugging at the hem of ryan's shirt. "i just want one good look. that way if you die-"
"BRENDON! STOP TRYING TO TAKE MY CLOTHES OFF!"
"you could die, ryan. and i wouldn't know who you were!"
"i'm not going to die and even if i did, i'm fairly sure i won't be indistinguishable. stop being so weird."
"I AM NOT BEING WEIRD, I'M BEING CONCERNED."
"YEAH, CONCERNED WITH SEEING ME NAKED."
"I NEVER SAID I WANTED TO SEE YOU NAKED."
"BRENDON, YOU HAVE BEEN A COMPLETE AND TOTAL CREEP THE LAST FOUR WEEKS. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?"
the yelling stops and brendon's face contorts into this hurt sort of shock and his eyebrows surge up a little like he's confused. ryan's panting a little and he reaches up to wipe his mouth a little and brendon just stares, eyes searching. "w-what?"
"you heard me, brendon," ryan says, his normal monotone cutting deeper than brendon expected. "you've been acting weird for a while now and i don't know why."
brendon visibly deflates and stares at the ground. ryan's still breathing hard and he's glaring at the top of brendon's head like he's ready to cut it off and brendon just mumbles, "i'm sorry," before turning around to walk into the house.
it's stupid, he knows it is. he's been trying to seduce ryan for weeks now and nothing is working and now all it's boiled down to is brendon being a failure and ryan thinking he's a giant creep. and worst of all, brendon still doesn't know if he's gay or not. fuck.
"i have a scar- um. above my right collarbone." brendon freezes with his hand on the doorknob and ryan swallows. "and a birthmark at the bottom of my spine."
brendon nods and gives a quiet thanks before going in anyway.
----
spencer takes one look at brendon when he enters the kitchen and says, "brendon, you know i love you. but get the fuck out of my kitchen."
brendon's frown deepens but he doesn't acknowledge spencer as he sits down at the bar, just holds his head in his hands and sighs, "spencer, i think i'm gay for ryan."
there's pasta sauce all over the floor.
"what?"
brendon sighs again, heavier this time and says, "i keep trying to make sure but he's so oblivious. spencer, why is ryan so oblivious?"
spencer blinks, still trying to register brendon's first statement. "um. because he's ryan."
"i'm in the middle of a sexual crisis here and when i offer him a blowjob in exchange for helping me out, all he does is walk out of the room. i don't-"
"wait, wait. you offered him a blowjob?"
brendon shrugs, "well. yeah."
spencer's eye twitches.
"i mean, i'm just trying to decide if i have a permanent hard-on for him or if i just really need to get laid."
"brendon, i don't think i'm the per-"
"but i mean, if it was just sex then i could have hooked up with that one chick at the bar last week. and i haven't given up, so maybe it is just about ryan and not-"
"BRENDON!"
"...what?"
spencer sighs and laments his ruined pasta sauce for a moment. "just tell him."
brendon quirks an eyebrow, "tell him what?"
"that you want his dick."
brendon gapes and looks scandalized. "but that's so-"
"obvious? yes, i've noticed." spencer gives brendon the once over. "but it's also the only way you're going to make things clear to ryan. he's oblivious, remember?"
there's a small wince and then brendon says, "yeah. yeah, i guess you're right."
"yeah, so," spencer waves dismissively. "go be gay somewhere else."
brendon nods dutifully and heads back outside.
----
ryan's talking on the phone when brendon gets out on the patio and brendon clears his throat. ryan spins around in the middle of a laugh and his eyes are so bright, so clear that brendon almost forgets what his intent was. ryan's smile doesn't falter as he looks at brendon, he only laughs a little more and says, "shut up you stupid fucker," into the phone and turns around again, kicking at the ground.
brendon takes a step forward and clears his throat. "um, ryan."
"hang on one second, alex," ryan says with that same humor in his tone and he covers the mouthpiece with his hand before he looks over at brendon again. "what, bren?"
"i need to talk to you."
"well, i'm on the phone. can it wait?"
"uh- no. no i don't think-"
"dude, shut up. i'm sick of hearing about that shit," ryan blurts back into the phone through a few giggles, cutting brendon off abruptly. "no! oh my god, you are such a dick!"
brendon shifts uncomfortably and moves to touch ryan's shoulder but stops hesitantly. "ryan, i-"
ryan looks back up at brendon and tells alex, "hang on again," before addressing brendon with "look, tell spencer i'll be inside in a minute. just let me finish up this-"
"i think i'm gay-"
ryan looks unfazed when he rolls his eyes and sighs, "yes, tell me something i don't know."
"-for you."
"alex, i swear to god, if you don't- wait, what?" ryan's eyes snap back up to brendon and he's got his phone clenched in his hand down by his hip, full attention turned to brendon now.
brendon shuffles again and stands up straight, "i've been trying to decide for the past few weeks so that would probably explain why you think i've been acting so weird but the other day you when we were leaving that thai food place i hate but only go to because you want me to, you bent over to flick some dirt off your shoe and i couldn't stop staring at your ass and i lied when i told you that i think i ate some bad chicken when we got back to your house because i went into your bathroom and jerked off thinking about your fingers wrapped around those chopsticks you were eating with and i came so hard i almost broke your towel rack so pretty much what i'm trying to say is that i'd really like to have lots and lots of sex with you because i can hardly look at you without wanting to grope you and i only have so much self control."
brendon is panting and ryan is staring and there's an annoying sound coming from the palm of ryan's hand.
"um. alex? let me call you back," ryan says before hanging up and pocketing his phone.
brendon watches ryan's hand disappear into his side pocket and meets ryan's eyes when he's smoothing it down. brendon blinks.
"so let me get this straight," ryan starts, "you've been acting like a total creep because you're gay? for me?"
brendon nods.
"and you're telling me this because you want to have sex with me?"
brendon nods again.
ryan's stare hardens for a second and fuck, he's going to kill brendon. but then his face relaxes and he shrugs and says, "okay, sure."
brendon hears a plate crash in the kitchen and spencer curses. yeah, that's brendon's reaction too.
"so... um. you want to have sex with me, too?"
"yeah."
"oh, well. that's cool."
"yeah."
there's a moment of silence, a few short casual hums and a bird flies overhead and brendon is surveying the backyard like he's actually interested in the shrubs spencer planted.
"you can come kiss me now, you know," ryan informs him.
"oh, yeah. yeah, okay," brendon laughs and crosses the length of the patio so quickly he’s practically stumbling into ryan. and he smiles awkwardly up at ryan before pressing their lips together, too hesitant, too shy. too is this okay?
so ryan laughs against his mouth before pinching brendon’s bottom lip between his teeth and pushing him up against spencer's charcoal grill, showing him just how okay everything about this situation really is.
end.
oh, and thank you so much slashatthedisco for rejecting my fic because i didn't use capitalization.
i'm sorry that you have a problem with the way i express myself.
;____;