Quiet Days Ruined By Lucky Charms.
Quiet Days Ruined By Lucky Charms.
Genfic. Ryan and Brendon, Lucky Charms, Green Grapes. G! ~700 words.
For: self_sustaining Prompt: Genfic/Bus/Foodfight. My Notes: Vaguely ridiculous.
(Sometimes Ryan wonders if he could get away with putting a piece of masking tape over Brendon’s mouth.)
Ryan really, really likes it when the bus is quiet. It doesn't happen much, but sometimes Brendon wears himself out and goes to take a nap and it's just nice. Mostly it's silent and that makes it wonderful.
Jon and Spencer are in the back of the bus. They know how to keep the noise down, so, right now it's pretty much all good.
The words are flowing, too. Out of Ryan's brain, through his fingers and onto the paper. He gets lost in the fine lines of his handwriting, slanted, a little smushed. They make patterns on the lined paper, and sometimes he likes to set the notebook away from him, where he can't read what it says, and just look at it. A whole full page full of words, and sometimes doodles, like some sort of masterpiece that makes him proud. (Because it does, it really does make him proud and warm.)
It's hours later when he finally looks up, blinks and realizes he's just spent half the day sitting at the little 'kitchen' table writing. He looks up just as Brendon wanders in, looking sleep rumpled and a little disoriented, wobbling with the motion of the bus to get to the cabinets.
Ryan watches as Brendon takes out his cereal, Lucky Charms with a big piece of masking tape across the bottom that says, BRENDON'S ONLY. FUCKERS. in a big scrawl. There is also a heart at the end which makes Ryan laugh.
(Sometimes Ryan wonders if he could get away with putting a piece of masking tape over Brendon’s mouth.)
"Did you sleep well?" Ryan asks, feeling light, as Brendon slides in to sit next to him, pushing a little.
He makes a muffled noise in response, shoving a spoonful of the dry cereal, lacking any marshmallows, (because he takes them all out in the beginning,) into his mouth.
"What are you writing?" Brendon comments a few minutes later, checking his own reflection in his spoon, peering at Ryan from behind it.
"Nothing," Ryan says with a wave of his hand, "Just lyrics."
"Lemme see, then," Brendon replies, dropping his spoon into his half-finished Lucky Charms.
"No," Ryan groans, sliding away from Brendon's grabby hands.
"Come on, Ry!"
"No."
"Come on!" Brendon pesters, and he's whining, high pitched, but settling back into the seat.
They sit in silence for a second, and then Ryan sees a motion from the corner of his eyes and ends up with bits of fluffy oat, or whatever Lucky Charms are made of in his face.
Ryan stares for a second, eyebrows raised and Lucky Charms sliding wet and sticky down his cheek. “No, oh, oh, no.”
He kind of feels like calling out for help, because Brendon’s poised again with a spoon filled with milk and just, no.
“Oh, come on, Bren,” Ryan says, searching around him for ammunition, too, if need be. (But he is not going to start a food fight, okay? No.) There is a small bowl of grapes, the green type that Brendon hates, on the table and he reaches for it.
“Let me see your notebook,” Brendon whines, almost literally, still holding the silver spoon, with milk threatening to spill over the edge.
“No,” Ryan replies, rubbing a grape between his thumb and forefinger, “And don’t throw that, I’ll throw this.”
Brendon’s eyes widen at the green grape, “You wouldn’t,” he says, shocked, because really. And he sighs, dumping the contents of the spoon back into his bowl.
“God, fine,” he huffs, sinking back into the booth.
Overall, Ryan thinks, it would have been fun to get to throw grapes at Brendon, but. At least he’s quiet now.
*
Now I’m off to write the rest of the comment ficlets I owe, and my Spencer-Is-A-Werewolf fic. I don’t think I’ll post this anywhere.
Genfic. Ryan and Brendon, Lucky Charms, Green Grapes. G! ~700 words.
For: self_sustaining Prompt: Genfic/Bus/Foodfight. My Notes: Vaguely ridiculous.
(Sometimes Ryan wonders if he could get away with putting a piece of masking tape over Brendon’s mouth.)
Ryan really, really likes it when the bus is quiet. It doesn't happen much, but sometimes Brendon wears himself out and goes to take a nap and it's just nice. Mostly it's silent and that makes it wonderful.
Jon and Spencer are in the back of the bus. They know how to keep the noise down, so, right now it's pretty much all good.
The words are flowing, too. Out of Ryan's brain, through his fingers and onto the paper. He gets lost in the fine lines of his handwriting, slanted, a little smushed. They make patterns on the lined paper, and sometimes he likes to set the notebook away from him, where he can't read what it says, and just look at it. A whole full page full of words, and sometimes doodles, like some sort of masterpiece that makes him proud. (Because it does, it really does make him proud and warm.)
It's hours later when he finally looks up, blinks and realizes he's just spent half the day sitting at the little 'kitchen' table writing. He looks up just as Brendon wanders in, looking sleep rumpled and a little disoriented, wobbling with the motion of the bus to get to the cabinets.
Ryan watches as Brendon takes out his cereal, Lucky Charms with a big piece of masking tape across the bottom that says, BRENDON'S ONLY. FUCKERS. in a big scrawl. There is also a heart at the end which makes Ryan laugh.
(Sometimes Ryan wonders if he could get away with putting a piece of masking tape over Brendon’s mouth.)
"Did you sleep well?" Ryan asks, feeling light, as Brendon slides in to sit next to him, pushing a little.
He makes a muffled noise in response, shoving a spoonful of the dry cereal, lacking any marshmallows, (because he takes them all out in the beginning,) into his mouth.
"What are you writing?" Brendon comments a few minutes later, checking his own reflection in his spoon, peering at Ryan from behind it.
"Nothing," Ryan says with a wave of his hand, "Just lyrics."
"Lemme see, then," Brendon replies, dropping his spoon into his half-finished Lucky Charms.
"No," Ryan groans, sliding away from Brendon's grabby hands.
"Come on, Ry!"
"No."
"Come on!" Brendon pesters, and he's whining, high pitched, but settling back into the seat.
They sit in silence for a second, and then Ryan sees a motion from the corner of his eyes and ends up with bits of fluffy oat, or whatever Lucky Charms are made of in his face.
Ryan stares for a second, eyebrows raised and Lucky Charms sliding wet and sticky down his cheek. “No, oh, oh, no.”
He kind of feels like calling out for help, because Brendon’s poised again with a spoon filled with milk and just, no.
“Oh, come on, Bren,” Ryan says, searching around him for ammunition, too, if need be. (But he is not going to start a food fight, okay? No.) There is a small bowl of grapes, the green type that Brendon hates, on the table and he reaches for it.
“Let me see your notebook,” Brendon whines, almost literally, still holding the silver spoon, with milk threatening to spill over the edge.
“No,” Ryan replies, rubbing a grape between his thumb and forefinger, “And don’t throw that, I’ll throw this.”
Brendon’s eyes widen at the green grape, “You wouldn’t,” he says, shocked, because really. And he sighs, dumping the contents of the spoon back into his bowl.
“God, fine,” he huffs, sinking back into the booth.
Overall, Ryan thinks, it would have been fun to get to throw grapes at Brendon, but. At least he’s quiet now.
*
Now I’m off to write the rest of the comment ficlets I owe, and my Spencer-Is-A-Werewolf fic. I don’t think I’ll post this anywhere.