'Silver White Winters That Melt Into Springs, These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things' [Brendon/Ryan]
Title: 'Silver White Winters That Melt Into Springs, These Are A Few of My Favorite Things'
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Profanity
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Word Count: ~1,100
Summary: "Spring rain! It's raining spring rain!"
Disclaimer: I was totally crouched in the shrubbery of the garden of The Cabin with a video camera when all this went down. Oh, and the title is from 'The Sound Of Music.'
Author Notes: I seem to have an obsession with cabins & gardens, but this isn't in any way supposed to be a continuation or prelude to my Brenathan fic 'Raindrops on Roses', because that would make Brendon a playa of the first order.
---<---<---@
“Ryan! Spring rain! It’s raining spring rain!”
Brendon, of course. Of course. Ryan stood up from the couch and walked over to the sliding door that led out into the garden surrounding the cabin. He had half a mind to throw his thesaurus at Brendon for saying “rain” three times in five words, but he restrained himself. He couldn’t, however, restrain his lips from curving up ever so slightly at the sight before him - Brendon, hair sopping wet and slicked against his forehead, was twirling crazily around the garden, stumbling every so often in the long grass.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Brendon stopped twirling. “Spinning.”
Ryan chuckled and leant his head against the door frame. He wasn’t thrilled about being interrupted in the middle of the songwriting process but Brendon was too damn endearing for him to stay mad at the other boy for long, and he hadn't been making much progress lately anyway.
“Is there any particular reason you’re spinning, or…?” Ryan trailed off on a question mark, unsure of the appropriate way to end.
Brendon grinned and gestured to the sky. “Spring rain, Ryan!”
“It’s rained like, every day since we’ve been here.” Their location wasn’t exactly known for its tropical March climate.
“I know, but this is different. It’s not cold outside anymore, and the rain is warmer, and it smells like earth.”
Ryan opened his mouth to counter this statement but as he did he inhaled the scented air and realized that Brendon was right. “I should come out here more often,” he muttered.
Brendon nodded. “You should. It’s awesome out here. There’s so much stuff to see and do and…” he shrugged, “inhale.” (Ryan smiled at this; it was so Brendon. So Brendon.) “Especially today.”
Ryan tilted his head. “Why today?” he asked, padding cautiously out onto the wooden deck in his bare feet. The deck was wet, but not unpleasantly so, and he found what Brendon had said about the rain being warmer than usual to be true.
“Ah,” Brendon answered evasively. His tone upheld an air of mystery and he was smiling his I-know-something-you-don’t-know smile but Ryan knew Brendon, knew he could only hold back the secret bursting to spill from his lips for three, two, one - “It’s the 21st, Ryan. It’s the first day of spring.”
Ryan chuckled softly. “It is? How do you know that?”
“Because I look forward to it!” Brendon exclaimed. “Because this is the time of year that everything comes alive again, and stuff starts blooming, you know? Cherry blossoms and dogwoods,” he listed, pointing the trees out as he named them and then ticking off the as-yet-unseen flowers on his fingers, “viburnums, peonies, columbines, irises!”
Ryan looked at his friend, amazed at the wealth of knowledge Brendon was displaying. Ryan’s own relationship with the garden had remained sadly limited to glancing out through the kitchen window at the slowly blossoming branches and juvenile, budding shoots while doing the dishes, and he was only now realizing that the inspiration he’d been trying to capture while sitting inside on the couch with a notebook may have been literally growing out here all along.
“Do you think,” he said carefully, gingerly stepping off the end of the deck and into the dewy grass, “that maybe… I know we’re only staying here a few more weeks but do you think we could, I don’t know, buy a bench or something, so I could sit out here and write?”
Brendon shot him a serene smile, seeming oddly placid (for Brendon anyway). Ryan hoped that the tranquility of the garden would have as positive an effect on his muse as it did on his best friend. “I think that’s a great idea - but we need to make it a long bench, and we need to put it right there,” Brendon said, indicating a spot beneath the bare branches of a black-barked tree.
Ryan cocked his head and walked over to stand beside his friend, bare soles crossing a ground that wasn’t quite mud, not quite, but which squished slightly underfoot and left small spears of grass clinging to his feet. “What do you mean, a long bench? And why here?”
“Because,” Brendon explained, leading Ryan over to the tree and then underneath its stark branches. “This is a cherry blossom,” he explained, patting the trunk. “It’s my favorite kind of tree. And if you sat here and the bench ended here,” he set up the parameters of the bench with a flourish, “then there would be room for me to sit next to you.” His voice wavered a little bit towards the end of his sentence, but to his credit he swallowed and continued. “And if I sat here then I could turn to my right and see you with the cherry blossom branches hanging down behind you, and,” he swallowed again, “you and the cherry blossom, you’re the two most… the two most beautiful things on this planet to me.” He flushed and broke eye contact with Ryan, not meaning to have divulged this much at all, and why was he still talking? “I mean, I’d just really like to watch you write songs under this tree, that’s all,” he amended lamely.
Ryan shot him a curious sideways look. He was sure Brendon hadn’t meant his words the way they had sounded. “Yeah, you could, you could come sit with me sometimes, sure.” He shivered a little. The rain was starting to soak through his thin hoody and he felt as if he’d had enough of the garden for one day, or until it stopped raining at least. “Listen, Bren, thanks for showing me this. Did you wanna stay outside or come in with me? We can make hot chocolate,” he added temptingly, not wanting Brendon to stay soggy and catch a cold.
“N-no,” Brendon shook his head. “Ryan.”
“What?”
“Would you let me do more than just watch you?”
Ryan wasn’t sure how to take this. “I -”
“Would you kiss me under this tree, Ryan?”
And there it was. Ryan bit back an incredulous laugh. “B-brendon, what?” he stuttered.
“Yes or no,” Brendon said sadly, wide brown eyes focused on Ryan’s face, obviously expecting the latter. In a split second Ryan leaned forward, pressed a short, intense kiss to his friend’s lips, and pulled away again. They stood regarding each other for a few long, lingering moments; Brendon’s breathing was shallow, Ryan’s lips were tingling and they were both shaking imperceptibly.
“Yes,” Ryan whispered unnecessarily.
And there under the branches of the cherry blossom tree, Brendon kissed him back.
---<---<---@
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Profanity
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Word Count: ~1,100
Summary: "Spring rain! It's raining spring rain!"
Disclaimer: I was totally crouched in the shrubbery of the garden of The Cabin with a video camera when all this went down. Oh, and the title is from 'The Sound Of Music.'
Author Notes: I seem to have an obsession with cabins & gardens, but this isn't in any way supposed to be a continuation or prelude to my Brenathan fic 'Raindrops on Roses', because that would make Brendon a playa of the first order.
---<---<---@
“Ryan! Spring rain! It’s raining spring rain!”
Brendon, of course. Of course. Ryan stood up from the couch and walked over to the sliding door that led out into the garden surrounding the cabin. He had half a mind to throw his thesaurus at Brendon for saying “rain” three times in five words, but he restrained himself. He couldn’t, however, restrain his lips from curving up ever so slightly at the sight before him - Brendon, hair sopping wet and slicked against his forehead, was twirling crazily around the garden, stumbling every so often in the long grass.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Brendon stopped twirling. “Spinning.”
Ryan chuckled and leant his head against the door frame. He wasn’t thrilled about being interrupted in the middle of the songwriting process but Brendon was too damn endearing for him to stay mad at the other boy for long, and he hadn't been making much progress lately anyway.
“Is there any particular reason you’re spinning, or…?” Ryan trailed off on a question mark, unsure of the appropriate way to end.
Brendon grinned and gestured to the sky. “Spring rain, Ryan!”
“It’s rained like, every day since we’ve been here.” Their location wasn’t exactly known for its tropical March climate.
“I know, but this is different. It’s not cold outside anymore, and the rain is warmer, and it smells like earth.”
Ryan opened his mouth to counter this statement but as he did he inhaled the scented air and realized that Brendon was right. “I should come out here more often,” he muttered.
Brendon nodded. “You should. It’s awesome out here. There’s so much stuff to see and do and…” he shrugged, “inhale.” (Ryan smiled at this; it was so Brendon. So Brendon.) “Especially today.”
Ryan tilted his head. “Why today?” he asked, padding cautiously out onto the wooden deck in his bare feet. The deck was wet, but not unpleasantly so, and he found what Brendon had said about the rain being warmer than usual to be true.
“Ah,” Brendon answered evasively. His tone upheld an air of mystery and he was smiling his I-know-something-you-don’t-know smile but Ryan knew Brendon, knew he could only hold back the secret bursting to spill from his lips for three, two, one - “It’s the 21st, Ryan. It’s the first day of spring.”
Ryan chuckled softly. “It is? How do you know that?”
“Because I look forward to it!” Brendon exclaimed. “Because this is the time of year that everything comes alive again, and stuff starts blooming, you know? Cherry blossoms and dogwoods,” he listed, pointing the trees out as he named them and then ticking off the as-yet-unseen flowers on his fingers, “viburnums, peonies, columbines, irises!”
Ryan looked at his friend, amazed at the wealth of knowledge Brendon was displaying. Ryan’s own relationship with the garden had remained sadly limited to glancing out through the kitchen window at the slowly blossoming branches and juvenile, budding shoots while doing the dishes, and he was only now realizing that the inspiration he’d been trying to capture while sitting inside on the couch with a notebook may have been literally growing out here all along.
“Do you think,” he said carefully, gingerly stepping off the end of the deck and into the dewy grass, “that maybe… I know we’re only staying here a few more weeks but do you think we could, I don’t know, buy a bench or something, so I could sit out here and write?”
Brendon shot him a serene smile, seeming oddly placid (for Brendon anyway). Ryan hoped that the tranquility of the garden would have as positive an effect on his muse as it did on his best friend. “I think that’s a great idea - but we need to make it a long bench, and we need to put it right there,” Brendon said, indicating a spot beneath the bare branches of a black-barked tree.
Ryan cocked his head and walked over to stand beside his friend, bare soles crossing a ground that wasn’t quite mud, not quite, but which squished slightly underfoot and left small spears of grass clinging to his feet. “What do you mean, a long bench? And why here?”
“Because,” Brendon explained, leading Ryan over to the tree and then underneath its stark branches. “This is a cherry blossom,” he explained, patting the trunk. “It’s my favorite kind of tree. And if you sat here and the bench ended here,” he set up the parameters of the bench with a flourish, “then there would be room for me to sit next to you.” His voice wavered a little bit towards the end of his sentence, but to his credit he swallowed and continued. “And if I sat here then I could turn to my right and see you with the cherry blossom branches hanging down behind you, and,” he swallowed again, “you and the cherry blossom, you’re the two most… the two most beautiful things on this planet to me.” He flushed and broke eye contact with Ryan, not meaning to have divulged this much at all, and why was he still talking? “I mean, I’d just really like to watch you write songs under this tree, that’s all,” he amended lamely.
Ryan shot him a curious sideways look. He was sure Brendon hadn’t meant his words the way they had sounded. “Yeah, you could, you could come sit with me sometimes, sure.” He shivered a little. The rain was starting to soak through his thin hoody and he felt as if he’d had enough of the garden for one day, or until it stopped raining at least. “Listen, Bren, thanks for showing me this. Did you wanna stay outside or come in with me? We can make hot chocolate,” he added temptingly, not wanting Brendon to stay soggy and catch a cold.
“N-no,” Brendon shook his head. “Ryan.”
“What?”
“Would you let me do more than just watch you?”
Ryan wasn’t sure how to take this. “I -”
“Would you kiss me under this tree, Ryan?”
And there it was. Ryan bit back an incredulous laugh. “B-brendon, what?” he stuttered.
“Yes or no,” Brendon said sadly, wide brown eyes focused on Ryan’s face, obviously expecting the latter. In a split second Ryan leaned forward, pressed a short, intense kiss to his friend’s lips, and pulled away again. They stood regarding each other for a few long, lingering moments; Brendon’s breathing was shallow, Ryan’s lips were tingling and they were both shaking imperceptibly.
“Yes,” Ryan whispered unnecessarily.
And there under the branches of the cherry blossom tree, Brendon kissed him back.
---<---<---@