Panic! Fic: The World May Never Know
The World May Never Know | ~6,000 | PG-13
Brendon/Spencer
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“It takes three licks, dude,” Joe says, and Brendon nods, says, “Duh,” because he’s a freaking wise owl, he knows these things.
A/N: Oh my god, this is so dumb. I wish I could claim I was drunk when I wrote this.
The World May Never Know
So the beginning is. Well, the beginning is sort of fuzzy, honestly, but Brendon has this, this epiphany, right, and even though the beginning is blurry, sort of neon-tinged and convoluted - because there is Bill and there’s Gabe - Brendon feels really comfortable blaming everything on Joe.
Or Spencer. He can totally blame Spencer and his stealth-hips and Jon-lovin’ ways.
Or, okay, Adam Brody. If he has to point fingers - fingers that won’t be broken by Ryan or all of Fall Out Boy - he’s going to point them directly at Adam Brody, of The O. C. fame.
*
The thing is, Spencer and Jon are all of a sudden going on heterosexual lifemate outings. Man-dates that involve a lot of giggling and ice cream and pinky finger holding, and Brendon feels this is totally unfair and kind of sickening, like it tightens up his insides - since this leaves him abandoned on the bus with Mr. Happypants, which is arguably better than being stuck with Broody McBrooderson, except Ryan is basically on his Sidekick twenty-four seven, either with Keltie or Pete or his awesome new best friend Adam Brody, ignoring Brendon - and it just sucks.
So Brendon is lonely and it’s horrible and it’s all Adam Brody’s fault. Otherwise, he might not have gotten tangled up with Billy Beckett.
*
“Brendon,” Bill says, sliding an arm along the back of the couch, fingers skimming the nape of Brendon’s neck.
Brendon looks up at him, and Bill gives him a wide, slightly sloppy, fond smile. “Bill.”
“Brendon, my heart, my fierce little kitten,” Bill says, and Brendon smiles back, because Bill always has the best pet names for him, and Brendon feels loved, so loved, “will you do something for me?”
“What?” Brendon blinks, nods. “Yeah, sure.”
Bill nuzzles the side of his face, down along his jaw. “Of course you will, of course. I’ve just got a small, um, delivery for Gabe.”
“Bill.”
Bill widens his eyes, glances up at Carden. “Mike.”
Carden takes a swig of his beer. “What are you doing?”
“Why nothing, Mike.” He slips his arm down, squeezes Brendon close to his side, and Brendon feels surprisingly cozy there, despite all of Bill’s sharp angles. “Nothing at all. Brendon here is just going to do me a favor. A perfectly harmless chore.”
“Right, uh huh.” Carden rolls his eyes. “You realize Smith will kill you.”
“Smith won’t know.” Bill gives Brendon some sort of look. Brendon thinks he’s maybe trying to be intense, but he comes off kind of drunk. Bill’s usually drunk twenty-two hours out of the day while on tour, Brendon knows. “Smith won’t know,” Bill repeats. “Right, my little peanut brittle? My wee bairn?” He tickles the tip of Brendon’s nose. “My saucy minx?”
Brendon is such a sucker for fuzzy names, geez. It’s kind of pathetic.
*
Brendon doesn’t actually give in right then, though, because he is so not that easy, and Gabe Saporta freaks him the fuck out. There was that incident with that guitar tech, Simon something-or-other, that Gabe had spent way too much time with the first week of touring and then no one ever saw or heard from him again, and, honestly, a lot of Gabe-stories end up like that.
But when Brendon trudges back onto his bus, Ryan is telling Spencer and Jon about how, “Adam Brody sent me this awesome picture of the sunset, guys, it’s, like, all pink and shit,” and seriously, seriously, Brendon is so much cooler than Adam Brody.
*
The Cobra Starship bus is eerily dim. It’s sort of smoky, too, but not, like, pot smoky. It smells like cigars and wet donkey, and Brendon doesn’t know what to do with that.
“Hello? Is anybody-ack!” Brendon jumps back, almost falling down the stairs, hand to his chest. Gabe is seriously seven feet tall.
“Hello,” Gabe says, staring down at him, a huge paw curled around Brendon’s arm to steady him. Which is nice of Gabe. He’s got some sort of purple robe on and a pipe sticking out of the corner of his mouth. “Urie. What brings you to my domain?”
“Um. Bill?”
“William.” Gabe nods. “So you’ve chosen your side.”
Brendon has no idea what Gabe’s talking about, but he certainly doesn’t want to choose sides. “No, no. I’ve got, like, a message from him,” he says, holding out a thin envelope with a little bear-thing drawn on the front. It looks like it’s stepping on a snake.
Gabe takes it from Brendon gingerly, one eyebrow arched high. Brendon fidgets while he reads the note, and then Gabe smiles, wide and creepy.
“Excellent,” he says, and then, “Wait here a sec,” and he disappears into the back of the bus.
*
Brendon doesn’t actually understand what he’s gotten himself into, not until Joe pulls him aside later that night after he stumbles off Gabe’s bus, a little shaky and smelling like ass, spots flashing behind his eyes from all the strobe lights - Brendon thinks the Cobra bus is a little like what a gay eighties disco revival club might be like - and asks, “Dude, seriously, what are you doing?”
Brendon cocks his head. “I don’t know, what am I doing?” he asks, and then Joe clucks his tongue and hooks an arm around his neck and drags him off towards the Fall Out Boy bus.
*
“Dude, dude,” Joe says. “This is so unwise. You don’t want to get in the middle of Gabe and Bill.”
Brendon’s got his head under a blanket, sprawled all over the couch in the front lounge. He giggles, feels like there’s bubbles popping all through his body.
Joe kicks him lightly in the side. “Spencer’ll kill you. Or Bill. He might just hurt Bill a lot.”
An hour or fifteen minutes later - or it could be, like, morning already, since Pete came out, stared at them for a while, grinned this manic grin and then silently left; plus, there’s sugar remains all over Brendon’s shirt, pixie stix carcasses stuffed into his pants, and he’s not going to think about that too hard - Brendon says, “Wait, wait, why would Spencer care?”
Joe blinks at him over his Xbox controller - he’s got it tucked up to his chin, like that’ll help him corner better with Yoshi. “What?”
“Why would Spencer be mad at me? At Bill?” Brendon asks, chewing on a thumbnail.
Joe shrugs. “I’m a little mad at Bill, too.”
“Okay, right.” Brendon has no idea what’s going on.
“Not as much as Spencer will be, dude,” Joe says, “though it’s not like Bill’s been macking on my girlfriend or anything. The fucker ate all my white cheddar Cheeze-its.”
“Right-what?” Brendon knows his eyes are huge, but he can’t help it.
*
The thing is, Spencer and Jon are doing these stupid, giggly man-dates they do, and they come back with secret smiles and bags of candy, and then Jon curls up with his Sidekick and Cassie texts him pics of Dylan and Clover and DylanandClover and her painted toenails and broken pieces of shells and wet pavement and shit, because they’re kind of weird together.
And when Jon curls up with his Sidekick, Spencer usually curls up with Brendon on the couch and shares his peanut M&Ms or Gummy Bears or Sour Patch Kids. And Spencer lets Brendon fidget with their hands and lets Brendon drape himself all over his lap with this long-suffering sigh while they watch DVDs starring Ryan’s new best friend Adam Brody or reruns of Sesame Street. And when they’re all snuggled down and comfy Spencer’ll maybe nuzzle Brendon’s cheek or kiss the top of his head and it’s all very sweet and heartwarming and Brendon especially loves those times with Spencer.
This doesn’t prove whatever Joe’s implying, though. Brendon’s no one’s girlfriend, okay, but the truth of the matter is that Joe has forced Brendon to realize something. Realize that he kind of, probably, has a super-secret gay crush on one of his bandmates. That’s what all the swooping in his belly is about. He’d thought maybe it was bad Chinese food.
*
Ryan had met Adam Brody through Pete, who’d met him through Ashlee, who’d met him because she’s a rabid fangirl and has this awesome voice that’s both squeaky and husky at the same time when she’s excited. Brendon thinks Ashlee’s kick-ass. Except for the part where Adam Brody is now all Ryan ever talks about, which has driven Spencer off the bus with Jon, because Spencer likes to shop and Jon has the patience of fifteen saints and doesn’t mind carrying Spencer’s bags, and Brendon routinely gets thrown out of malls. It’s happened, like, three times on this tour alone.
Strangely, Adam Brody is not really a fan of their music.
Ryan says that makes their relationship more realistic, sturdier, more likely to last. Brendon thinks they actually met in person, like, once.
Ryan says, “Adam Brody’s coming out on tour with us for a few days next month,” with this grin that makes his eyes sparkle kind of creepily.
Spencer and Jon share a look that makes Brendon want to stab something. It’s a look full of puppies and charm and secrets, a look that would be so much better if Spencer would aim it at him, Brendon, and seriously, how could he not have noticed this crush before? It’s sort of obvious.
*
Logically, if Brendon had to crush on someone in the band, it should have been Ryan, except Brendon has his doubts that Ryan could actually carry him anywhere, and Brendon totally likes to be carried places by people he loves in sexual ways.
He had a huge crush on Zack for, like, months, and then Spencer had to go ahead and grow inches taller and actual broad shoulders and, like, thighs and facial hair that didn’t look taped on or hobo-ish - once, some random guy stuffed a dollar bill in Ryan’s Starbucks cup and that totally never stops being hilarious in all possible ways; Jon even commemorated it in a photo-story reenactment starring Pete and the Butcher - and it’s so obvious that Spencer can manhandle Brendon all he wants if he really wanted to.
So his deep hatred and jealousy of Adam Brody aside - it’s just, like, this total wacky sidekick deal, he’s sure, like Brendon’s always been Ryan’s Seth, minus all the awesome sexual tension from the show, and now Adam Brody is there to be Ryan’s Seth, hopefully minus all the sexual tension, too, because Keltie can be sort of vicious when threatened, Pete has some scars to prove it - there is no actual reason for Brendon to crush on Ryan’s skinny ass.
Jon Walker would also be a likely love interest for Brendon, because he’s awesome. In fact, Brendon had spent a full day convinced that Jon was his actual secret gay crush, because Spencer and Jon are SpencerandJon an absurd amount of the time lately, so the sudden and unfortunate blushing could honestly have been brought about by either one of them.
Except for the fact that Jon Walker’s truly awesome smile is not quite wide enough to birth robots and kittens and spindly baby unicorns.
So this is now established as fact. Spencer Smith: making Brendon happy since 2004, now with increased sexual awareness.
*
It’s Tuesday, and Brendon is hiding from Bill. The day of the week isn’t really important, except for the fact that Tuesdays mean fresh hotdogs, and ever since Brendon gave up being a vegetarian he, like, craves hotdogs in all their disgusting glory most of all.
Bill had slid up behind him in the food tent, wrapped an arm around him and said, “Bren, Brenny, you didn’t show up last night. Tell your old pal Bill what’s wrong. Gabe isn’t being cruel to you, is he?”
Brendon had nearly choked on his yummy processed meat parts. “Um. No?”
“Oh. Oh, good.” He’d tugged Brendon closer, pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’d hate to have to find someone else,” he’d said, and Brendon had felt kind of trapped. Especially after Bill’d squeezed his ass.
Brendon still has no idea what he’s even shuffling back and forth between Gabe and Bill. It isn’t like he hasn’t snuck a look at the notes, but he doesn’t know what B44 means, or F13, or Sink this, or Eat my submarine and die, bitch. It’s gotta be code. Evil Gabe and Bill code.
He’s starting to get some mafia vibes out of the whole situation, too - and not any of the cool ones, like in Corky Romano - so Brendon’s hiding from Bill in Spencer’s bunk.
“What are you doing in my bunk?” Spencer asks, pulling the curtain aside.
“Hiding.”
Spencer cocks his head, studies Brendon for a minute, then shrugs. “Okay,” he says, and then he pushes at Brendon’s shoulder to move him over and crawls in with him and then sort of curls up by his pillow, so Brendon’s head is resting dangerously close to his belly, hands dangerously close to his hips.
“Um.” Brendon bites his lip, tilts his head back to look up at Spencer.
Spencer beams at him. “Hi.”
Spencer smells like rainbows.
Brendon kind of wants to lick that stripe of skin that’s peaking out from under Spencer’s shirt, just over the waistband of his pants, and thinking that has the unfortunate effect of making Brendon hard. There is no way Brendon can get over Spencer and out of the bunk without him noticing, even though he totally wants that half-full bag of Skittles Spencer gave him last night.
This secret gay crush is getting kind of inconvenient.
*
“I have a secret gay crush on Spencer,” Brendon tells Joe. Brendon’s deep in the bowels of another blanket fort. It’s a little smoky. Joe’s breached the integrity of his fort and has his head, one shoulder, and half a thigh in it with him. Brendon pokes at his cheek. “Joe, Joe, Joe.”
“You can’t have a secret gay crush on Spencer,” Joe says. He turns towards him, and Brendon’s still poking so he totally almost sticks his finger up Joe’s nose.
Brendon laughs. “I do. Oh, I do, but don’t tell anyone, ‘kay?” and Joe cocks his head, and Brendon gets a better angle, short nail catching at Joe’s nostril and that’s so gross, but so funny, and Joe scrubs lazily at his face.
“Dude, whatever,” Joe says. “You can’t have secret crushes on people you’re, like, actually dating. That’s retarded. You sound like Pete.”
Brendon is not sure that makes any sense at all. “That makes total sense,” he says, nodding.
*
Four days after Brendon’s secret gay crush on Spencer is established as fact, and two days after Brendon tells Joe his revelation in the blanket fort - which they are expressly forbidden to make again, since Patrick’d walked in just in time to save the entire bus from a raging fire - Brendon actually remembers what Joe had said.
Brendon thinks maybe he’s forgotten what the definition of dating actually is, if what Joe’d said was true.
It doesn’t help that his last girlfriend was Audrey, since Audrey had been sort of inexplicably scary. It also doesn’t help that Brendon’s never actually kissed a guy - even though he thinks about it a lot. He thinks maybe it’s different or something, but even then Brendon’s pretty sure he’d know if he was dating someone.
“I wouldn’t call it dating,” Pete says.
“Thank yo-”
“More like some sort of incredibly slow courtship.” Pete grins. “Wooing.”
“Wooing,” Joe crows, pointing at Brendon. “Dude, he’s plying you with candy and cuddles.”
Brendon would be pissed at them, except it sounds kind of awesome. Brendon’s totally up for being plied with candy and cuddling.
The problem, though, is that Spencer’s been on some sort of uncharacteristic cuddling rampage lately, and no one is safe. Brendon’s nothing special.
Brendon is awesome and handsome and has this great ass, Brendon knows this, but he’s not going to throw out the word special. Mainly because Pete’s bound to take it in the short bus sense, but also because Brendon is totally modest.
And Spencer is holding hands with Jon and sprawling on the couch between Ryan’s legs while Ryan texts Adam Brody, and Brendon caught him sharing Goobers with Nate the other day, so.
“Spencer’s wooing the entire tour with candy and cuddles,” Brendon says, pouting. It’s totally not fair.
*
Brendon is sure that if he hadn’t started hanging out with Billy Beckett and Gabe, he totally wouldn’t have had to acknowledge this whole crush thing, and he would’ve been fine. He would’ve been peachy and keen and totally still hot for that merch girl, the one with the penchant for butterfly collars and the slightly crooked nose.
“What’s up, man?” Adam Brody says, settling down beside Brendon on the dressing room couch.
Brendon contemplates telling Adam Brody about Ryan being gay for him, but he thinks maybe that’s mean. Also, Keltie’s lurking around somewhere, and she’s totally got bat ears. Brendon is not ashamed to admit that Keltie scares him a little.
But then Spencer walks in, crosses his arms over his chest and says, “Ryan told me you’ve been spending a lot of time with Gabe and Bill,” and Ryan is a total bitch, god. Even Joe had been keeping that secret.
Brendon turns to Adam Brody and says, “Ryan wants to have your babies.”
*
The thing is, Spencer doesn’t get, like, physically angry. He gets pissy and evil, which is much, much scarier.
During the height of the great war between Spencer Smith and Bill Beckett - which, as far as Brendon can tell, mainly consists of a lot of bitchy glaring - Brendon makes Jon hide out on top of the Panic! bus with him.
Ryan isn’t speaking to him, since he scared off Adam Brody, so Jon is his only ally.
Except Jon sneaks down after two hours of snuggling to get some water and never comes back, and then Brendon gets bored - seriously, so bored, and he’s surprised he lasted as along as he did, honestly, because the top of the bus is long and flat and boring - and he climbs down and into the waiting arms of one Gabe Saporta, which is both unexpected and unpleasant.
Gabe looks like maybe he let a blind five-year-old dress him. Brendon didn’t know they even made sweatpants that shade of neon orange, and deep down Brendon’s maybe a little jealous, because they look extra comfy, with big roomy pockets.
“I like your pants,” Brendon says.
“Why thank you, Brendon Boyd Urie.”
Brendon’s eyes widen. Gabe using his full name is never a good sign. Usually it’s preceded by, “We do not speak the cobra’s name,” and some vicious rib poking. Brendon wraps his arms protectively around his midsection. “You’re welcome,” Brendon says, then presses his lips together.
Gabe just stares at him.
“Um.” Brendon doesn’t exactly know what to say. Gabe has a way of making silences tense and uncomfortable, sort of like the quiet is eating your brain. It’s one of his many creepy talents.
“Smith has issued a challenge,” Gabe says finally, and Brendon scrunches his face up, because he’d kind of been expecting something like, “I’m now going to drug you and make you perform an interpretive dance with the Butcher,” which has, sadly, happened once or twice or five times. It’s not like Brendon’s keeping track.
“What?” Brendon asks.
“He’s warned me away, Urie.” Gabe’s eyes narrow. “He’s threatened my manhood. In the interests of my balls, I’m going to relieve you of your duties.”
“Uh. Okay?” Brendon’s doing a little dance inside. He doesn’t think Bill will be as easy to convince as Gabe, because Bill, strangely, has less of a survival instinct. Bill’s all about honor and the booze makes him feel invincible. Gabe likes to blame things on his snake, and then he gets the fuck out of Dodge when they inevitably go to shit.
Grinning, Gabe grabs the front of Brendon’s shirt with both hands, drags him up on his tippy-toes, and then plants a sloppy one right on his lips. Brendon squeaks and flails a little and then nearly falls when Gabe lets him go.
Brendon spits. Brendon has learned, in the weeks spent hanging out on the Cobra bus, that spitting after suffering through one of Gabe’s kisses is the only way to ensure Gabe hasn’t slipped anything into his mouth that will make him hallucinate or collapse in a puddle of goo or go tell Spencer he loves him with a burning, fiery passion or hook up with Alex. Alex is cool and all, but Brendon’s sort of frightened of Ryland, and Ryland looks like maybe he has a robot army stashed away just in case Brendon gets fresh.
“Go with my blessing,” Gabe says, holding out a fist for Brendon to knock.
Brendon bumps knuckles, then slips onto the Panic! bus and locks the door.
*
Brendon steals Ryan’s Sidekick, copies down Adam Brody’s number, and then sends him about five or ten text messages telling him he’d been totally kidding about the Ryan and his babies thing, and that it would be super cool if he’d call Ryan or something, since Ryan is splitting time between moping and sending Brendon hurtful glares.
It’s the moping that gets Brendon the most, since he’s gotten so used to happy cowpoke Ryan, and he misses Ryan’s smile.
When he doesn’t think Ryan will punch him - so when Ryan’s got a full bowl of cereal that he won’t drop in order to free his hands - Brendon curls up next to him and wraps his arms around his waist and squeezes tight and says, “I’m sorry.”
Ryan holds himself stiff for approximately five seconds before caving, tipping his cheek against the top of Brendon’s head. “You’re fucking lucky I love you,” Ryan grumbles, and Brendon beams, smushing his mouth right up against Ryan’s shoulder.
*
Bill does not admit defeat very easily. The lack of support from Gabe has apparently only fueled his determination, and he’s trapped Brendon on his bus. Brendon’s still not exactly sure how that happened, but it has something to do with hot chocolate and sugar cookies and The Sound of Music.
Three hours later, Bill still has him locked in the back lounge, and the Von Trapp family is singing its way over the hills, and Brendon’s sort of anxious to leave.
He swipes cookie crumbs off his lap. “Um, Bill.”
“Stay,” Bill purrs, waggling a DVD case at him. It’s The Little Mermaid. Brendon whimpers.
He’s got sound check in maybe two hours. That’s just enough time.
*
Brendon wakes up to yelling. Spencer yelling, specifically, and then he remembers that they’re actually on tour for a reason, and that probably falling asleep locked on Bill’s bus wasn’t the smartest idea. Bill tends to be forgetful about things that aren’t specifically related to himself, and it’s just like him to go flouncing off and forget that Brendon had sound check at three thirty that afternoon. Judging by the orange light filtering in through the windows, Brendon thinks it’s considerably later than that.
Spencer sounds extra screechy, which means he’s worried. Brendon grins and pokes his head out of the lounge, and then reels back when Spencer spots him, because wow. Wow, worried or not, Spencer looks like he might just kill him with his brain.
Spencer palms the door before Brendon can close it, leveraging it all the way open, and Brendon says, “Hey, hey, victim here! I was kidnapped, Spencer Smith, and subjected to cruel, cruel torture!”
Spencer glances at the TV. The Little Mermaid DVD menu is still up on the screen. He arches an eyebrow at Brendon.
“Um.” Brendon tangles his fingers in the hem of his t-shirt. He can’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make Spencer cock a hip and bitch at him for wasting time, so he doesn’t say anything at all.
And then Spencer turns to Bill, who’s slumped against the bunks with this smug, contented cat look on his face, and. And Spencer slaps him.
Brendon has never been so shocked in his entire life. And then he starts laughing.
*
“Oh my god, Jon Walker,” Brendon says, and Brendon’s maybe past hysteria and into awe, because Spencer Smith fucking slapped Bill Beckett and that’s. That’s the greatest thing to ever happen ever. “I wish you could’ve seen it. And Bill’s face. Bill’s face, Jon, and then he just says, ‘Pistols at dawn,’ and oh my god, they’re, like, dueling for my honor.”
Jon has this wide smile on his face and an even wider one lighting up his eyes. “You’re pretty besmirched,” he says, and Brendon presses his face into Jon’s neck and laughs.
*
“Spencer,” Brendon whispers, and then he totally ruins the whispering by shoving at Spencer’s prone body and clambering up into his bunk. “Spencer, hey, wake up.”
“Somebody better be dead,” Spencer grumbles, but he moves over and opens his arms a little, giving Brendon just enough room to snuggle in.
“Spencer,” Brendon says, and steels himself to be honest, because he totally has to bare his soul to Spencer before he goes off to duel. He might die and stuff. Brendon’s not exactly sure what they’re going to use for weapons, but the possibility is there, okay? “Spencer, I think you should know something.”
Spencer sighs into his pillow. He turns his head, brushes his lips against Brendon’s cheek, rubs his nose on Brendon’s skin a little. “What?”
Brendon takes Spencer’s hand, laces their fingers together over his stomach. “I,” Brendon says slowly, “have a secret gay crush on you.”
Spencer stills, his hand tightening around Brendon’s. He starts shaking a little, and it takes a few moments - of heart-stopping terror, because Brendon thinks maybe Spencer’s gonna go all ninja on him; they’re cuddled up in the same bed, and Brendon basically just confessed he wants into Spencer’s pants, so maybe Spencer’s a little offended or something, right? - before Brendon registers Spencer’s giggles, and Spencer’s laughing at him, and that’s just totally mean.
“Okay,” Spencer says, and it sounds like it’s taken some effort for him to spit that out without guffawing, thanks Spencer. He burrows closer to Brendon, though, and that’s nice. “Okay,” Spencer says again. “That’s good to know.”
*
Over breakfast, Brendon sits as close as possible to Spencer on the couch and tells Ryan earnestly, “I have a huge gay crush on Spencer. Please don’t hurt me.”
Ryan blinks at him. Spencer coughs into his fist.
Brendon bites his lower lip. “Ryan?”
“I’ll try not to fly into a rage,” Ryan deadpans, then sends Spencer a look; a look that Brendon totally doesn’t get, because it’s sort of like Ryan’s ‘you took the last piece of toast, you bastard’ look, and that doesn’t seem to actually fit the situation.
Brendon can feel Spencer shrug, since he’s seriously sitting so close - and he kind of wants to hold Spencer’s hand, too, but he doesn’t, because Ryan’s reaction to the whole Brendon wanting to raise kittens in Vermont with Spencer revelation is still iffy - and then Brendon thinks wait a minute, because Brendon can totally put two and two together and come up with the exact same answer as Joe. It just takes him a little longer to count. “You’re not wooing the whole tour, are you?” he asks Spencer.
“What?”
“Wooing?” Ryan asks, then cracks a grin Brendon hasn’t seen since Adam Brody booked it.
“Are you plying everyone with candy, Spencer Smith?” Brendon demands, because if Spencer’s gonna be all casual about this crush business - and they totally made out that morning, and they hadn’t even brushed their teeth first and Brendon had stuck his hands down the back of Spencer’s pajama pants and it had been so awesome; he can’t wait for full-on sexin’ - he thinks he deserves all Spencer’s cuddling and sugar-based products.
“Have you been talking to Pete?” Spencer asks.
Brendon nods. “And Joe.” Brendon leaves out the part about the blanket fort, and how Patrick’d had beat them down with a broom after it caught fire while Pete cackled evilly in the background, ‘cause that’s mainly embarrassing.
“Oh, well that fucking explains it,” Ryan says.
*
It turns out that ‘pistols at dawn’ means a cutthroat Halo marathon starting after the show at the crack of one thirty am and lasting until whenever, some time in the mid-morning.
“To the victor goes the spoils,” Bill says grandly, and Brendon’s not so sure he likes the sound of that. Dueling is one thing, but Brendon sort of thinks he’s being bet like a hot commodity now. Not that Brendon isn’t the hottest fucking commodity around, but whatever. He’s not sleeping with Bill Beckett if Spencer somehow manages to fuck up the game.
Brendon settles down to watch, but it’s really kind of boring if you’re not playing - even though the insult hurling is sort of amusing at first, until Bill resorts to your mom jokes and Spencer gets genuinely pissed, because Spencer’s sort of touchy about his mom - so Brendon eventually sneaks off to go find Joe.
*
There’s a blackish hole in the blanket the size of Brendon’s fist, so the fort - “The Fort of Truth,” Joe says. “Dude, you can’t lie in the Fort of Truth” - doesn’t work as well as it used to. They’re wedged into Joe’s bunk, too, because Patrick will totally kill them if he finds them lighting up under flammable materials again.
Joe’s got one knee bent through the hole, and it’s dark under there, and Brendon says, “It’s dark in the Fort of Truth,” then giggles. It’s totally, like, pitch black under there. And smoky. “Joe, Joe, for serious, Spencer kissed me.”
“Okay, dude.” Joe nods. Or Brendon thinks he nods. The blanket shifts, at least.
“We made out. It was awesome,” Brendon goes on, because it was so awesome. He feels like telling everybody about it, but he thinks maybe that’s not wise. Brendon can be so wise when he wants to be. “I’m like an owl.”
Joe flicks his lighter on. His eyes are droopy and his mouth is curled up in this soft smile. “It takes three licks, dude,” Joe says, and Brendon nods, says, “Duh,” because he’s a freaking wise owl, he knows these things.
*
Brendon’s stumbled back from Joe’s and is napping snugly on the couch in the back lounge when Spencer wakes him up. He slumps over Brendon, curls his hands around his waist, snuffles into his throat.
Brendon yawns. “Spence?”
“Ugh.” Spencer clenches his fingers, groans, and says, “I lost.”
“What? What?” Brendon’s got visions of himself bound up on the Academy’s bus, forced to watch the Butcher and Carden play porn charades, and the last time that had happened Brendon’d had nightmares for weeks. “You lost?”
“Whatever. You have to take him to the zoo or something. Hold his hand.”
“What?” A zoo-trip seems a little tame for Bill, and Brendon wonders if that isn’t code for hot monkey sex.
“Brendon,” Spencer says tiredly, peeling back and frowning down at him.
“Spencer, seriously, Spencer, hot monkey sex is only appealing with you,” Brendon says earnestly. “And maybe Bob Bryar.” Because Bob Bryar totally looks like he can hold Brendon above his head with one hand.
Spencer’s expression is in that weird place between a smile and frown. Like a grimace, only more bitchy. “Bryar?”
Brendon widens his eyes and wisely - seriously, like an owl - decides to change the subject. “Will this zoo have okapis?” Okapis are clearly the best animals since unicorns, what with their giraffe backs and zebra legs.
Spencer’s eyes are still kind of narrow, but he shrugs. “Sure?”
Brendon’s okay with that. Just so long as he doesn’t have to see Bill naked - again - and doesn’t have to step foot on the Cobra bus, because the week since Gabe graciously let him go has been awesome. He hasn’t hallucinated even once, or had that dream about the squirrel that tells him to burn things.
*
“Jon. Jon Walker,” Brendon says, striding over to Jon with this totally confident stride. He’s gonna own it tonight, he so is.
“Brendon,” Jon says. He’s grinning, ducking around Spencer, chin digging into the side of his upper arm and arms wrapped around Spencer’s waist.
“Jon,” Brendon says seriously, oh so serious, “you are encroaching on my personal space,” and Spencer pulls a bitch face and his hips twitch left, and Jon buries his face in the back of Spencer’s shoulder and laughs.
He laughs and laughs, to the point where Brendon thinks maybe Joe’s been sharing the Owl Fort of Truth - “Can I get a who from the Who Council?” Joe asks as he passes by with Andy, and Brendon automatically stretches out a fist for him to bump and coos, “Whoooo,” because they’re freaking owls; they hover menacingly and shit, and are all wise beyond their tender years - with more than just Brendon.
And then Spencer jabs an elbow into Jon’s stomach and flounces off and Brendon has to bite his lip to keep from laughing, too.
*
Later, Spencer totally threatens Brendon’s balls, but Brendon just sort of pretends to be scared, because Spencer isn’t going to do anything with Brendon’s balls that isn’t spectacularly pleasant, he knows this. Spencer likes him too much.
Later, Brendon thinks his new favorite word is fortuitous, because it was damn fortuitous for him to get between Gabe and Bill, ‘cause otherwise he totally would’ve waited forever to worm his way into Spencer’s pants. Probably.
“Dude.”
“Dude,” Brendon echoes, nodding at Adam Brody. They’re snug in the Owl Fort of Truth, because Adam Brody is totally an owl now; now that he’s talking to Ryan again and coming on tour with them and sharing meaningful and respectful looks with Keltie.
“Dude,” Adam Brody says, and Joe drawls, “Adam fucking Brody,” like he can’t believe the three of them all fit in his bunk. It’s kind of tight, but Joe and Brendon are little.
“I’m so wise,” Adam Brody says. He sounds amazed.
Brendon can relate. He nods again, says, “Adam Brody, dude, this is, like, fortuitous, it so is-I’m gonna call you AB, ‘kay?”
“AB,” Joe says. “AB, man, welcome. Welcome to my humble fort. Can I get a who from the Who Council?”
Brendon and AB chorus - quiet-like, ‘cause they’re still hiding from Patrick - “Whoooo.”
Brendon/Spencer
download the soundtrack
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“It takes three licks, dude,” Joe says, and Brendon nods, says, “Duh,” because he’s a freaking wise owl, he knows these things.
A/N: Oh my god, this is so dumb. I wish I could claim I was drunk when I wrote this.
The World May Never Know
So the beginning is. Well, the beginning is sort of fuzzy, honestly, but Brendon has this, this epiphany, right, and even though the beginning is blurry, sort of neon-tinged and convoluted - because there is Bill and there’s Gabe - Brendon feels really comfortable blaming everything on Joe.
Or Spencer. He can totally blame Spencer and his stealth-hips and Jon-lovin’ ways.
Or, okay, Adam Brody. If he has to point fingers - fingers that won’t be broken by Ryan or all of Fall Out Boy - he’s going to point them directly at Adam Brody, of The O. C. fame.
*
The thing is, Spencer and Jon are all of a sudden going on heterosexual lifemate outings. Man-dates that involve a lot of giggling and ice cream and pinky finger holding, and Brendon feels this is totally unfair and kind of sickening, like it tightens up his insides - since this leaves him abandoned on the bus with Mr. Happypants, which is arguably better than being stuck with Broody McBrooderson, except Ryan is basically on his Sidekick twenty-four seven, either with Keltie or Pete or his awesome new best friend Adam Brody, ignoring Brendon - and it just sucks.
So Brendon is lonely and it’s horrible and it’s all Adam Brody’s fault. Otherwise, he might not have gotten tangled up with Billy Beckett.
*
“Brendon,” Bill says, sliding an arm along the back of the couch, fingers skimming the nape of Brendon’s neck.
Brendon looks up at him, and Bill gives him a wide, slightly sloppy, fond smile. “Bill.”
“Brendon, my heart, my fierce little kitten,” Bill says, and Brendon smiles back, because Bill always has the best pet names for him, and Brendon feels loved, so loved, “will you do something for me?”
“What?” Brendon blinks, nods. “Yeah, sure.”
Bill nuzzles the side of his face, down along his jaw. “Of course you will, of course. I’ve just got a small, um, delivery for Gabe.”
“Bill.”
Bill widens his eyes, glances up at Carden. “Mike.”
Carden takes a swig of his beer. “What are you doing?”
“Why nothing, Mike.” He slips his arm down, squeezes Brendon close to his side, and Brendon feels surprisingly cozy there, despite all of Bill’s sharp angles. “Nothing at all. Brendon here is just going to do me a favor. A perfectly harmless chore.”
“Right, uh huh.” Carden rolls his eyes. “You realize Smith will kill you.”
“Smith won’t know.” Bill gives Brendon some sort of look. Brendon thinks he’s maybe trying to be intense, but he comes off kind of drunk. Bill’s usually drunk twenty-two hours out of the day while on tour, Brendon knows. “Smith won’t know,” Bill repeats. “Right, my little peanut brittle? My wee bairn?” He tickles the tip of Brendon’s nose. “My saucy minx?”
Brendon is such a sucker for fuzzy names, geez. It’s kind of pathetic.
*
Brendon doesn’t actually give in right then, though, because he is so not that easy, and Gabe Saporta freaks him the fuck out. There was that incident with that guitar tech, Simon something-or-other, that Gabe had spent way too much time with the first week of touring and then no one ever saw or heard from him again, and, honestly, a lot of Gabe-stories end up like that.
But when Brendon trudges back onto his bus, Ryan is telling Spencer and Jon about how, “Adam Brody sent me this awesome picture of the sunset, guys, it’s, like, all pink and shit,” and seriously, seriously, Brendon is so much cooler than Adam Brody.
*
The Cobra Starship bus is eerily dim. It’s sort of smoky, too, but not, like, pot smoky. It smells like cigars and wet donkey, and Brendon doesn’t know what to do with that.
“Hello? Is anybody-ack!” Brendon jumps back, almost falling down the stairs, hand to his chest. Gabe is seriously seven feet tall.
“Hello,” Gabe says, staring down at him, a huge paw curled around Brendon’s arm to steady him. Which is nice of Gabe. He’s got some sort of purple robe on and a pipe sticking out of the corner of his mouth. “Urie. What brings you to my domain?”
“Um. Bill?”
“William.” Gabe nods. “So you’ve chosen your side.”
Brendon has no idea what Gabe’s talking about, but he certainly doesn’t want to choose sides. “No, no. I’ve got, like, a message from him,” he says, holding out a thin envelope with a little bear-thing drawn on the front. It looks like it’s stepping on a snake.
Gabe takes it from Brendon gingerly, one eyebrow arched high. Brendon fidgets while he reads the note, and then Gabe smiles, wide and creepy.
“Excellent,” he says, and then, “Wait here a sec,” and he disappears into the back of the bus.
*
Brendon doesn’t actually understand what he’s gotten himself into, not until Joe pulls him aside later that night after he stumbles off Gabe’s bus, a little shaky and smelling like ass, spots flashing behind his eyes from all the strobe lights - Brendon thinks the Cobra bus is a little like what a gay eighties disco revival club might be like - and asks, “Dude, seriously, what are you doing?”
Brendon cocks his head. “I don’t know, what am I doing?” he asks, and then Joe clucks his tongue and hooks an arm around his neck and drags him off towards the Fall Out Boy bus.
*
“Dude, dude,” Joe says. “This is so unwise. You don’t want to get in the middle of Gabe and Bill.”
Brendon’s got his head under a blanket, sprawled all over the couch in the front lounge. He giggles, feels like there’s bubbles popping all through his body.
Joe kicks him lightly in the side. “Spencer’ll kill you. Or Bill. He might just hurt Bill a lot.”
An hour or fifteen minutes later - or it could be, like, morning already, since Pete came out, stared at them for a while, grinned this manic grin and then silently left; plus, there’s sugar remains all over Brendon’s shirt, pixie stix carcasses stuffed into his pants, and he’s not going to think about that too hard - Brendon says, “Wait, wait, why would Spencer care?”
Joe blinks at him over his Xbox controller - he’s got it tucked up to his chin, like that’ll help him corner better with Yoshi. “What?”
“Why would Spencer be mad at me? At Bill?” Brendon asks, chewing on a thumbnail.
Joe shrugs. “I’m a little mad at Bill, too.”
“Okay, right.” Brendon has no idea what’s going on.
“Not as much as Spencer will be, dude,” Joe says, “though it’s not like Bill’s been macking on my girlfriend or anything. The fucker ate all my white cheddar Cheeze-its.”
“Right-what?” Brendon knows his eyes are huge, but he can’t help it.
*
The thing is, Spencer and Jon are doing these stupid, giggly man-dates they do, and they come back with secret smiles and bags of candy, and then Jon curls up with his Sidekick and Cassie texts him pics of Dylan and Clover and DylanandClover and her painted toenails and broken pieces of shells and wet pavement and shit, because they’re kind of weird together.
And when Jon curls up with his Sidekick, Spencer usually curls up with Brendon on the couch and shares his peanut M&Ms or Gummy Bears or Sour Patch Kids. And Spencer lets Brendon fidget with their hands and lets Brendon drape himself all over his lap with this long-suffering sigh while they watch DVDs starring Ryan’s new best friend Adam Brody or reruns of Sesame Street. And when they’re all snuggled down and comfy Spencer’ll maybe nuzzle Brendon’s cheek or kiss the top of his head and it’s all very sweet and heartwarming and Brendon especially loves those times with Spencer.
This doesn’t prove whatever Joe’s implying, though. Brendon’s no one’s girlfriend, okay, but the truth of the matter is that Joe has forced Brendon to realize something. Realize that he kind of, probably, has a super-secret gay crush on one of his bandmates. That’s what all the swooping in his belly is about. He’d thought maybe it was bad Chinese food.
*
Ryan had met Adam Brody through Pete, who’d met him through Ashlee, who’d met him because she’s a rabid fangirl and has this awesome voice that’s both squeaky and husky at the same time when she’s excited. Brendon thinks Ashlee’s kick-ass. Except for the part where Adam Brody is now all Ryan ever talks about, which has driven Spencer off the bus with Jon, because Spencer likes to shop and Jon has the patience of fifteen saints and doesn’t mind carrying Spencer’s bags, and Brendon routinely gets thrown out of malls. It’s happened, like, three times on this tour alone.
Strangely, Adam Brody is not really a fan of their music.
Ryan says that makes their relationship more realistic, sturdier, more likely to last. Brendon thinks they actually met in person, like, once.
Ryan says, “Adam Brody’s coming out on tour with us for a few days next month,” with this grin that makes his eyes sparkle kind of creepily.
Spencer and Jon share a look that makes Brendon want to stab something. It’s a look full of puppies and charm and secrets, a look that would be so much better if Spencer would aim it at him, Brendon, and seriously, how could he not have noticed this crush before? It’s sort of obvious.
*
Logically, if Brendon had to crush on someone in the band, it should have been Ryan, except Brendon has his doubts that Ryan could actually carry him anywhere, and Brendon totally likes to be carried places by people he loves in sexual ways.
He had a huge crush on Zack for, like, months, and then Spencer had to go ahead and grow inches taller and actual broad shoulders and, like, thighs and facial hair that didn’t look taped on or hobo-ish - once, some random guy stuffed a dollar bill in Ryan’s Starbucks cup and that totally never stops being hilarious in all possible ways; Jon even commemorated it in a photo-story reenactment starring Pete and the Butcher - and it’s so obvious that Spencer can manhandle Brendon all he wants if he really wanted to.
So his deep hatred and jealousy of Adam Brody aside - it’s just, like, this total wacky sidekick deal, he’s sure, like Brendon’s always been Ryan’s Seth, minus all the awesome sexual tension from the show, and now Adam Brody is there to be Ryan’s Seth, hopefully minus all the sexual tension, too, because Keltie can be sort of vicious when threatened, Pete has some scars to prove it - there is no actual reason for Brendon to crush on Ryan’s skinny ass.
Jon Walker would also be a likely love interest for Brendon, because he’s awesome. In fact, Brendon had spent a full day convinced that Jon was his actual secret gay crush, because Spencer and Jon are SpencerandJon an absurd amount of the time lately, so the sudden and unfortunate blushing could honestly have been brought about by either one of them.
Except for the fact that Jon Walker’s truly awesome smile is not quite wide enough to birth robots and kittens and spindly baby unicorns.
So this is now established as fact. Spencer Smith: making Brendon happy since 2004, now with increased sexual awareness.
*
It’s Tuesday, and Brendon is hiding from Bill. The day of the week isn’t really important, except for the fact that Tuesdays mean fresh hotdogs, and ever since Brendon gave up being a vegetarian he, like, craves hotdogs in all their disgusting glory most of all.
Bill had slid up behind him in the food tent, wrapped an arm around him and said, “Bren, Brenny, you didn’t show up last night. Tell your old pal Bill what’s wrong. Gabe isn’t being cruel to you, is he?”
Brendon had nearly choked on his yummy processed meat parts. “Um. No?”
“Oh. Oh, good.” He’d tugged Brendon closer, pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’d hate to have to find someone else,” he’d said, and Brendon had felt kind of trapped. Especially after Bill’d squeezed his ass.
Brendon still has no idea what he’s even shuffling back and forth between Gabe and Bill. It isn’t like he hasn’t snuck a look at the notes, but he doesn’t know what B44 means, or F13, or Sink this, or Eat my submarine and die, bitch. It’s gotta be code. Evil Gabe and Bill code.
He’s starting to get some mafia vibes out of the whole situation, too - and not any of the cool ones, like in Corky Romano - so Brendon’s hiding from Bill in Spencer’s bunk.
“What are you doing in my bunk?” Spencer asks, pulling the curtain aside.
“Hiding.”
Spencer cocks his head, studies Brendon for a minute, then shrugs. “Okay,” he says, and then he pushes at Brendon’s shoulder to move him over and crawls in with him and then sort of curls up by his pillow, so Brendon’s head is resting dangerously close to his belly, hands dangerously close to his hips.
“Um.” Brendon bites his lip, tilts his head back to look up at Spencer.
Spencer beams at him. “Hi.”
Spencer smells like rainbows.
Brendon kind of wants to lick that stripe of skin that’s peaking out from under Spencer’s shirt, just over the waistband of his pants, and thinking that has the unfortunate effect of making Brendon hard. There is no way Brendon can get over Spencer and out of the bunk without him noticing, even though he totally wants that half-full bag of Skittles Spencer gave him last night.
This secret gay crush is getting kind of inconvenient.
*
“I have a secret gay crush on Spencer,” Brendon tells Joe. Brendon’s deep in the bowels of another blanket fort. It’s a little smoky. Joe’s breached the integrity of his fort and has his head, one shoulder, and half a thigh in it with him. Brendon pokes at his cheek. “Joe, Joe, Joe.”
“You can’t have a secret gay crush on Spencer,” Joe says. He turns towards him, and Brendon’s still poking so he totally almost sticks his finger up Joe’s nose.
Brendon laughs. “I do. Oh, I do, but don’t tell anyone, ‘kay?” and Joe cocks his head, and Brendon gets a better angle, short nail catching at Joe’s nostril and that’s so gross, but so funny, and Joe scrubs lazily at his face.
“Dude, whatever,” Joe says. “You can’t have secret crushes on people you’re, like, actually dating. That’s retarded. You sound like Pete.”
Brendon is not sure that makes any sense at all. “That makes total sense,” he says, nodding.
*
Four days after Brendon’s secret gay crush on Spencer is established as fact, and two days after Brendon tells Joe his revelation in the blanket fort - which they are expressly forbidden to make again, since Patrick’d walked in just in time to save the entire bus from a raging fire - Brendon actually remembers what Joe had said.
Brendon thinks maybe he’s forgotten what the definition of dating actually is, if what Joe’d said was true.
It doesn’t help that his last girlfriend was Audrey, since Audrey had been sort of inexplicably scary. It also doesn’t help that Brendon’s never actually kissed a guy - even though he thinks about it a lot. He thinks maybe it’s different or something, but even then Brendon’s pretty sure he’d know if he was dating someone.
“I wouldn’t call it dating,” Pete says.
“Thank yo-”
“More like some sort of incredibly slow courtship.” Pete grins. “Wooing.”
“Wooing,” Joe crows, pointing at Brendon. “Dude, he’s plying you with candy and cuddles.”
Brendon would be pissed at them, except it sounds kind of awesome. Brendon’s totally up for being plied with candy and cuddling.
The problem, though, is that Spencer’s been on some sort of uncharacteristic cuddling rampage lately, and no one is safe. Brendon’s nothing special.
Brendon is awesome and handsome and has this great ass, Brendon knows this, but he’s not going to throw out the word special. Mainly because Pete’s bound to take it in the short bus sense, but also because Brendon is totally modest.
And Spencer is holding hands with Jon and sprawling on the couch between Ryan’s legs while Ryan texts Adam Brody, and Brendon caught him sharing Goobers with Nate the other day, so.
“Spencer’s wooing the entire tour with candy and cuddles,” Brendon says, pouting. It’s totally not fair.
*
Brendon is sure that if he hadn’t started hanging out with Billy Beckett and Gabe, he totally wouldn’t have had to acknowledge this whole crush thing, and he would’ve been fine. He would’ve been peachy and keen and totally still hot for that merch girl, the one with the penchant for butterfly collars and the slightly crooked nose.
“What’s up, man?” Adam Brody says, settling down beside Brendon on the dressing room couch.
Brendon contemplates telling Adam Brody about Ryan being gay for him, but he thinks maybe that’s mean. Also, Keltie’s lurking around somewhere, and she’s totally got bat ears. Brendon is not ashamed to admit that Keltie scares him a little.
But then Spencer walks in, crosses his arms over his chest and says, “Ryan told me you’ve been spending a lot of time with Gabe and Bill,” and Ryan is a total bitch, god. Even Joe had been keeping that secret.
Brendon turns to Adam Brody and says, “Ryan wants to have your babies.”
*
The thing is, Spencer doesn’t get, like, physically angry. He gets pissy and evil, which is much, much scarier.
During the height of the great war between Spencer Smith and Bill Beckett - which, as far as Brendon can tell, mainly consists of a lot of bitchy glaring - Brendon makes Jon hide out on top of the Panic! bus with him.
Ryan isn’t speaking to him, since he scared off Adam Brody, so Jon is his only ally.
Except Jon sneaks down after two hours of snuggling to get some water and never comes back, and then Brendon gets bored - seriously, so bored, and he’s surprised he lasted as along as he did, honestly, because the top of the bus is long and flat and boring - and he climbs down and into the waiting arms of one Gabe Saporta, which is both unexpected and unpleasant.
Gabe looks like maybe he let a blind five-year-old dress him. Brendon didn’t know they even made sweatpants that shade of neon orange, and deep down Brendon’s maybe a little jealous, because they look extra comfy, with big roomy pockets.
“I like your pants,” Brendon says.
“Why thank you, Brendon Boyd Urie.”
Brendon’s eyes widen. Gabe using his full name is never a good sign. Usually it’s preceded by, “We do not speak the cobra’s name,” and some vicious rib poking. Brendon wraps his arms protectively around his midsection. “You’re welcome,” Brendon says, then presses his lips together.
Gabe just stares at him.
“Um.” Brendon doesn’t exactly know what to say. Gabe has a way of making silences tense and uncomfortable, sort of like the quiet is eating your brain. It’s one of his many creepy talents.
“Smith has issued a challenge,” Gabe says finally, and Brendon scrunches his face up, because he’d kind of been expecting something like, “I’m now going to drug you and make you perform an interpretive dance with the Butcher,” which has, sadly, happened once or twice or five times. It’s not like Brendon’s keeping track.
“What?” Brendon asks.
“He’s warned me away, Urie.” Gabe’s eyes narrow. “He’s threatened my manhood. In the interests of my balls, I’m going to relieve you of your duties.”
“Uh. Okay?” Brendon’s doing a little dance inside. He doesn’t think Bill will be as easy to convince as Gabe, because Bill, strangely, has less of a survival instinct. Bill’s all about honor and the booze makes him feel invincible. Gabe likes to blame things on his snake, and then he gets the fuck out of Dodge when they inevitably go to shit.
Grinning, Gabe grabs the front of Brendon’s shirt with both hands, drags him up on his tippy-toes, and then plants a sloppy one right on his lips. Brendon squeaks and flails a little and then nearly falls when Gabe lets him go.
Brendon spits. Brendon has learned, in the weeks spent hanging out on the Cobra bus, that spitting after suffering through one of Gabe’s kisses is the only way to ensure Gabe hasn’t slipped anything into his mouth that will make him hallucinate or collapse in a puddle of goo or go tell Spencer he loves him with a burning, fiery passion or hook up with Alex. Alex is cool and all, but Brendon’s sort of frightened of Ryland, and Ryland looks like maybe he has a robot army stashed away just in case Brendon gets fresh.
“Go with my blessing,” Gabe says, holding out a fist for Brendon to knock.
Brendon bumps knuckles, then slips onto the Panic! bus and locks the door.
*
Brendon steals Ryan’s Sidekick, copies down Adam Brody’s number, and then sends him about five or ten text messages telling him he’d been totally kidding about the Ryan and his babies thing, and that it would be super cool if he’d call Ryan or something, since Ryan is splitting time between moping and sending Brendon hurtful glares.
It’s the moping that gets Brendon the most, since he’s gotten so used to happy cowpoke Ryan, and he misses Ryan’s smile.
When he doesn’t think Ryan will punch him - so when Ryan’s got a full bowl of cereal that he won’t drop in order to free his hands - Brendon curls up next to him and wraps his arms around his waist and squeezes tight and says, “I’m sorry.”
Ryan holds himself stiff for approximately five seconds before caving, tipping his cheek against the top of Brendon’s head. “You’re fucking lucky I love you,” Ryan grumbles, and Brendon beams, smushing his mouth right up against Ryan’s shoulder.
*
Bill does not admit defeat very easily. The lack of support from Gabe has apparently only fueled his determination, and he’s trapped Brendon on his bus. Brendon’s still not exactly sure how that happened, but it has something to do with hot chocolate and sugar cookies and The Sound of Music.
Three hours later, Bill still has him locked in the back lounge, and the Von Trapp family is singing its way over the hills, and Brendon’s sort of anxious to leave.
He swipes cookie crumbs off his lap. “Um, Bill.”
“Stay,” Bill purrs, waggling a DVD case at him. It’s The Little Mermaid. Brendon whimpers.
He’s got sound check in maybe two hours. That’s just enough time.
*
Brendon wakes up to yelling. Spencer yelling, specifically, and then he remembers that they’re actually on tour for a reason, and that probably falling asleep locked on Bill’s bus wasn’t the smartest idea. Bill tends to be forgetful about things that aren’t specifically related to himself, and it’s just like him to go flouncing off and forget that Brendon had sound check at three thirty that afternoon. Judging by the orange light filtering in through the windows, Brendon thinks it’s considerably later than that.
Spencer sounds extra screechy, which means he’s worried. Brendon grins and pokes his head out of the lounge, and then reels back when Spencer spots him, because wow. Wow, worried or not, Spencer looks like he might just kill him with his brain.
Spencer palms the door before Brendon can close it, leveraging it all the way open, and Brendon says, “Hey, hey, victim here! I was kidnapped, Spencer Smith, and subjected to cruel, cruel torture!”
Spencer glances at the TV. The Little Mermaid DVD menu is still up on the screen. He arches an eyebrow at Brendon.
“Um.” Brendon tangles his fingers in the hem of his t-shirt. He can’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make Spencer cock a hip and bitch at him for wasting time, so he doesn’t say anything at all.
And then Spencer turns to Bill, who’s slumped against the bunks with this smug, contented cat look on his face, and. And Spencer slaps him.
Brendon has never been so shocked in his entire life. And then he starts laughing.
*
“Oh my god, Jon Walker,” Brendon says, and Brendon’s maybe past hysteria and into awe, because Spencer Smith fucking slapped Bill Beckett and that’s. That’s the greatest thing to ever happen ever. “I wish you could’ve seen it. And Bill’s face. Bill’s face, Jon, and then he just says, ‘Pistols at dawn,’ and oh my god, they’re, like, dueling for my honor.”
Jon has this wide smile on his face and an even wider one lighting up his eyes. “You’re pretty besmirched,” he says, and Brendon presses his face into Jon’s neck and laughs.
*
“Spencer,” Brendon whispers, and then he totally ruins the whispering by shoving at Spencer’s prone body and clambering up into his bunk. “Spencer, hey, wake up.”
“Somebody better be dead,” Spencer grumbles, but he moves over and opens his arms a little, giving Brendon just enough room to snuggle in.
“Spencer,” Brendon says, and steels himself to be honest, because he totally has to bare his soul to Spencer before he goes off to duel. He might die and stuff. Brendon’s not exactly sure what they’re going to use for weapons, but the possibility is there, okay? “Spencer, I think you should know something.”
Spencer sighs into his pillow. He turns his head, brushes his lips against Brendon’s cheek, rubs his nose on Brendon’s skin a little. “What?”
Brendon takes Spencer’s hand, laces their fingers together over his stomach. “I,” Brendon says slowly, “have a secret gay crush on you.”
Spencer stills, his hand tightening around Brendon’s. He starts shaking a little, and it takes a few moments - of heart-stopping terror, because Brendon thinks maybe Spencer’s gonna go all ninja on him; they’re cuddled up in the same bed, and Brendon basically just confessed he wants into Spencer’s pants, so maybe Spencer’s a little offended or something, right? - before Brendon registers Spencer’s giggles, and Spencer’s laughing at him, and that’s just totally mean.
“Okay,” Spencer says, and it sounds like it’s taken some effort for him to spit that out without guffawing, thanks Spencer. He burrows closer to Brendon, though, and that’s nice. “Okay,” Spencer says again. “That’s good to know.”
*
Over breakfast, Brendon sits as close as possible to Spencer on the couch and tells Ryan earnestly, “I have a huge gay crush on Spencer. Please don’t hurt me.”
Ryan blinks at him. Spencer coughs into his fist.
Brendon bites his lower lip. “Ryan?”
“I’ll try not to fly into a rage,” Ryan deadpans, then sends Spencer a look; a look that Brendon totally doesn’t get, because it’s sort of like Ryan’s ‘you took the last piece of toast, you bastard’ look, and that doesn’t seem to actually fit the situation.
Brendon can feel Spencer shrug, since he’s seriously sitting so close - and he kind of wants to hold Spencer’s hand, too, but he doesn’t, because Ryan’s reaction to the whole Brendon wanting to raise kittens in Vermont with Spencer revelation is still iffy - and then Brendon thinks wait a minute, because Brendon can totally put two and two together and come up with the exact same answer as Joe. It just takes him a little longer to count. “You’re not wooing the whole tour, are you?” he asks Spencer.
“What?”
“Wooing?” Ryan asks, then cracks a grin Brendon hasn’t seen since Adam Brody booked it.
“Are you plying everyone with candy, Spencer Smith?” Brendon demands, because if Spencer’s gonna be all casual about this crush business - and they totally made out that morning, and they hadn’t even brushed their teeth first and Brendon had stuck his hands down the back of Spencer’s pajama pants and it had been so awesome; he can’t wait for full-on sexin’ - he thinks he deserves all Spencer’s cuddling and sugar-based products.
“Have you been talking to Pete?” Spencer asks.
Brendon nods. “And Joe.” Brendon leaves out the part about the blanket fort, and how Patrick’d had beat them down with a broom after it caught fire while Pete cackled evilly in the background, ‘cause that’s mainly embarrassing.
“Oh, well that fucking explains it,” Ryan says.
*
It turns out that ‘pistols at dawn’ means a cutthroat Halo marathon starting after the show at the crack of one thirty am and lasting until whenever, some time in the mid-morning.
“To the victor goes the spoils,” Bill says grandly, and Brendon’s not so sure he likes the sound of that. Dueling is one thing, but Brendon sort of thinks he’s being bet like a hot commodity now. Not that Brendon isn’t the hottest fucking commodity around, but whatever. He’s not sleeping with Bill Beckett if Spencer somehow manages to fuck up the game.
Brendon settles down to watch, but it’s really kind of boring if you’re not playing - even though the insult hurling is sort of amusing at first, until Bill resorts to your mom jokes and Spencer gets genuinely pissed, because Spencer’s sort of touchy about his mom - so Brendon eventually sneaks off to go find Joe.
*
There’s a blackish hole in the blanket the size of Brendon’s fist, so the fort - “The Fort of Truth,” Joe says. “Dude, you can’t lie in the Fort of Truth” - doesn’t work as well as it used to. They’re wedged into Joe’s bunk, too, because Patrick will totally kill them if he finds them lighting up under flammable materials again.
Joe’s got one knee bent through the hole, and it’s dark under there, and Brendon says, “It’s dark in the Fort of Truth,” then giggles. It’s totally, like, pitch black under there. And smoky. “Joe, Joe, for serious, Spencer kissed me.”
“Okay, dude.” Joe nods. Or Brendon thinks he nods. The blanket shifts, at least.
“We made out. It was awesome,” Brendon goes on, because it was so awesome. He feels like telling everybody about it, but he thinks maybe that’s not wise. Brendon can be so wise when he wants to be. “I’m like an owl.”
Joe flicks his lighter on. His eyes are droopy and his mouth is curled up in this soft smile. “It takes three licks, dude,” Joe says, and Brendon nods, says, “Duh,” because he’s a freaking wise owl, he knows these things.
*
Brendon’s stumbled back from Joe’s and is napping snugly on the couch in the back lounge when Spencer wakes him up. He slumps over Brendon, curls his hands around his waist, snuffles into his throat.
Brendon yawns. “Spence?”
“Ugh.” Spencer clenches his fingers, groans, and says, “I lost.”
“What? What?” Brendon’s got visions of himself bound up on the Academy’s bus, forced to watch the Butcher and Carden play porn charades, and the last time that had happened Brendon’d had nightmares for weeks. “You lost?”
“Whatever. You have to take him to the zoo or something. Hold his hand.”
“What?” A zoo-trip seems a little tame for Bill, and Brendon wonders if that isn’t code for hot monkey sex.
“Brendon,” Spencer says tiredly, peeling back and frowning down at him.
“Spencer, seriously, Spencer, hot monkey sex is only appealing with you,” Brendon says earnestly. “And maybe Bob Bryar.” Because Bob Bryar totally looks like he can hold Brendon above his head with one hand.
Spencer’s expression is in that weird place between a smile and frown. Like a grimace, only more bitchy. “Bryar?”
Brendon widens his eyes and wisely - seriously, like an owl - decides to change the subject. “Will this zoo have okapis?” Okapis are clearly the best animals since unicorns, what with their giraffe backs and zebra legs.
Spencer’s eyes are still kind of narrow, but he shrugs. “Sure?”
Brendon’s okay with that. Just so long as he doesn’t have to see Bill naked - again - and doesn’t have to step foot on the Cobra bus, because the week since Gabe graciously let him go has been awesome. He hasn’t hallucinated even once, or had that dream about the squirrel that tells him to burn things.
*
“Jon. Jon Walker,” Brendon says, striding over to Jon with this totally confident stride. He’s gonna own it tonight, he so is.
“Brendon,” Jon says. He’s grinning, ducking around Spencer, chin digging into the side of his upper arm and arms wrapped around Spencer’s waist.
“Jon,” Brendon says seriously, oh so serious, “you are encroaching on my personal space,” and Spencer pulls a bitch face and his hips twitch left, and Jon buries his face in the back of Spencer’s shoulder and laughs.
He laughs and laughs, to the point where Brendon thinks maybe Joe’s been sharing the Owl Fort of Truth - “Can I get a who from the Who Council?” Joe asks as he passes by with Andy, and Brendon automatically stretches out a fist for him to bump and coos, “Whoooo,” because they’re freaking owls; they hover menacingly and shit, and are all wise beyond their tender years - with more than just Brendon.
And then Spencer jabs an elbow into Jon’s stomach and flounces off and Brendon has to bite his lip to keep from laughing, too.
*
Later, Spencer totally threatens Brendon’s balls, but Brendon just sort of pretends to be scared, because Spencer isn’t going to do anything with Brendon’s balls that isn’t spectacularly pleasant, he knows this. Spencer likes him too much.
Later, Brendon thinks his new favorite word is fortuitous, because it was damn fortuitous for him to get between Gabe and Bill, ‘cause otherwise he totally would’ve waited forever to worm his way into Spencer’s pants. Probably.
“Dude.”
“Dude,” Brendon echoes, nodding at Adam Brody. They’re snug in the Owl Fort of Truth, because Adam Brody is totally an owl now; now that he’s talking to Ryan again and coming on tour with them and sharing meaningful and respectful looks with Keltie.
“Dude,” Adam Brody says, and Joe drawls, “Adam fucking Brody,” like he can’t believe the three of them all fit in his bunk. It’s kind of tight, but Joe and Brendon are little.
“I’m so wise,” Adam Brody says. He sounds amazed.
Brendon can relate. He nods again, says, “Adam Brody, dude, this is, like, fortuitous, it so is-I’m gonna call you AB, ‘kay?”
“AB,” Joe says. “AB, man, welcome. Welcome to my humble fort. Can I get a who from the Who Council?”
Brendon and AB chorus - quiet-like, ‘cause they’re still hiding from Patrick - “Whoooo.”