The Mind Works In Mysterious Ways

The Last Rain [1]

2009-01-19T21:31:42Z

Title: The Last Rain [1]
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Chapter Rating: PG
Summary: I was a nobody that was turned into a somebody for a little while before squishing to a nobody again. Why? Because I wasn't a groupie or a music journalist or photographer. I was a fan.
POV: Ryan
Disclaimer: they're all in a band together with ryan not left out.
Note: i have been not here and i am sorry. i started a new journal where i was going to use it for everything, but i now decided i want to keep my stories in a separate one for personal reasons. [i sort of like to reread old ones and see what i could have done better].

I wasn't a groupie or music journalist or photographer. I didn't wear revealing clothes or stalked the tour buses. I couldn't write a critical album review if my life depended on it. I hated taking pictures or using a camera, my cell phone camera living a useless life. I was no one of importance, not even having a backstage sticker at the concert that started it all. I was a nobody that was turned into a somebody for a little while before squishing to a nobody again. Why? Because I wasn't a groupie or music journalist or photographer.

I was a fan.

I loved music. I loved listening to different songs that these people came up with. I loved the entire concept. It was incredible how they could be so emotional and have such meaning, how one band could get such a strong point across. I loved it. I loved the whole entire process. I just loved music. It was simple as that.

I had plans to go to a concert with my friend, but he had to cancel because his work called him in. He didn't entirely like the band we were going to see in the first place, which was cool because I was so sure that when we saw them live, his mind would be changed. I'd never find out because he chose to go work at Taco Bell instead.

I drove down to the venue an hour before the doors opened, windows down and wind blowing through my hair. I was listening to the second disc of the group I was going to see, my mouth singing the words very quietly under my breath. I pulled up the parking lot attendant and smiled politely at him. "$10," he muttered, giving a nod when I handed him a single bill. I parked by a light post because this wasn't one of the best areas in the world and having a light over my car made me feel a bit more secure about leaving it.

I went up to the box office and bought my ticket, my heart pounding a little faster as we exchanged paper; dollars for ticket. I sluggishly walked to the back of the line, the people up front sticking their noses in the air and bragging about arriving to their spots at eight in the morning. It was a shame some of us had jobs to go to and couldn't waste our lives sitting on our ass outside a closed door. It wasn't about waking up early to see a band, though. It was about the chance of getting to hear them. I wouldn't be able to hear them at 8:00 a.m., so why work myself up all day?

The doors opened and the crowd pushed and shoved through the small single door, people cussing at how stupid it was to have only one entrance. I only rolled my eyes because no matter how fast we got inside, the band wouldn't be there yet. I slowly started to wonder if these people were here for the same reason I was. I bit my lip and kept trying to hide the fact I was a concert virgin.

When I was a teenager, my parents were strict. I learned my lessons from them very well, but being 18 and in college, I put some of their teachings to use, others going in the recycle bin in my mind. I did what I was supposed to my entire life but once I turned 18, a legal adult, I told them that I would go to concerts if I wanted and that they would be okay with that. They weren't, of course, but they pretended I worked overtime while I was getting directed into the ballroom. Seeing the stage set up, seeing the road crew make some quick last minute adjustments, hearing the buzz of excitement, I forgot how grateful I was for making it out here and let myself converse with some guy that was here with a very large group of friends.

The first band played and, yeah, they weren't the most talented group of high schoolers in the world, but I looked passed it. I looked at the point they were attempting to get across and I liked it a lot. I saw the potential, letting my head bob to the music and body move back and forth. The guy I was talking to before tapped me on the shoulder and held what looked like a cigarette, but smelled too sweet to be, out to me. "Wanna hit?"

I licked my lips and frantically shook my head. "N-No thanks. I don't smoke."

"Good thing this isn't a cigarette," he leered, the lightened paper being shoved in my face.

I coughed from the smell, kept shaking my head, and excused myself as I made my way through people towards the exit. My head spun slightly but once the lobby air rushed over me, I felt all better. I saw the merchandise stand and made my way over there since I had nothing else to really do, leaning against the glass to see what the contents inside were. CDs, wristbands, pins, a school bag, jewelry, totes, and stuffed animals. I chuckled to myself, my finger outlining a teddy bear.

"Interested in a bear looking like Brendon Urie?" a voice said, breaking me from my fascination of the strange products for purchase.

I laughed louder and shrugged. "It looks soft." The man in front of me smirked with his arms crossed on the top of the glass, leaning his weight against it. I looked over his shoulder at the posters lined up with the clothing and at each posed member. "Um. Which is...Brendon Urie?"

The man's eyebrows rose and he turned around. "The one in the red shirt with the rainfall background. He's the singer." He turned back to me, his eyes narrowed. "Do you like The Last Rain?"

"The band? They're my favorite. Like, ever." I could feel my tongue wanting to ramble on for forever, so I simply and stupidly stopped there.

He nodded slowly. "Your favorite band and you don't know who Brendon Urie is?"

My cheeks flushed and I looked back down at the weird Brendon Urie teddy bear that was looking up at me. I swear it was taunting me. "Yeah. None of their records have their pictures, so how do you expect me to know who is who?"

He stared at me in thought, examining me as his fingers absentmindedly tapped against the case. A smile crawled on his face a few moments later and he held his hand out. "I'm Shane."

I took it instantly. "Ryan."

"Nice to meet you, Ryan." He took his hand back and put his arm back around his other. "So, you're favorite band? Why is that?"

I bounced on the balls of my feet a little, ignoring his curious and interested expression that was on me. All around me, fans were trying to get to the front where I was so they could buy something to prove they came to the concert, but I paid them no attention. It was just me and Shane starting on my favorite topic of discussion. "The way they use auxiliary percussion, for one, is pretty much incredible. No single song sounds the same and it shows that they aren’t afraid to experiment with variety. Now that I know his name, Brendon Urie’s voice is one of a kind. It’s whiny just like the 60’s bands, but it’s solid like the 90’s. Their lyrics are confusing and full of heartache. Except for ‘Ride Frame’ because that one makes all the sense in the world to me. It‘s pretty much the story of my life. And I love ‘Mercury’ for it’s intro and outro-it’s incredible how the bass and drums team up. I could do without ’Living for Love,’ in all honesty, and the fact it’s the title track pisses me off-”

“Okay, okay,” Shane interrupted me, amused smile on his face. I felt my face burn up more and took notice in the Brendon Urie teddy bear again. “Hey, are you going to buy anything? If not, you’re going to have to move.”

I mumbled an apology and moved to the side, girls happily taking my now vacant spot. I frowned slightly as I saw all the people wanting to buy items. Spotting a random empty chair and checking my watch to tell me I had a good hour before The Last Rain played, I went over to sit down. I stared down and folded my hands on my lap, twiddling my thumbs together as I listened to the high school band play their last song. One band to go after them.

I had a few people ask me if I was alright, which was embarrassing. What if I told them no? What then? I simply gave a weak smile, “yeah, I’m fine, thank you,” and looked back down. A lot of people were here with their best friends or their group of ten closest friends. I suddenly felt very alone and got sad.

I sighed, knowing there was nothing I could do now, and heard the next band start up. Once more, my head bobbled on its own and my ears perked up. I wasn’t alone anymore then. I was with the band and their music. Sure, that was a typical music loser or plain loser answer, but it was the truth. If I met any other loser, I would know exactly how they were feeling both in the alone and music company phases.

The middle band played three songs when I heard my name being called. My eyes darted around before I caught sight of Shane from across the room, his eyes piercing in mine in a way that frightened me. “Get over here,” he demanded, a few surrounding people looking over at me to see why this guy that tours with the bands was calling for the loser.

I swallowed a large lump, building my courage before rising from the seat. I politely excused my way through people and made my way to him in the front, receiving glares from everyone when they realized I wasn’t looking for a friend and simply wanted to be ahead of them. He and another worker attended to the needs of the people around me in a very swift manner before the rush died down and Shane put all his attention on me once more. “Whatcha doin’?” he casually asked.

“I’m waiting for the band to play,” I simply answered.

“Don’t you want to go in there and snag a good spot to see them?” he pressed on while nodding to the concert hall doors and I had a feeling there was a reason he was doing this. It worried me.

I shrugged. “I will when they start up.”

He clicked his tongue and shifted from one foot to the other. He looked me up and down, but not in a sexual way. He was ranging me up, but for what reason was beyond me. “I don’t do this often,” he began to say, then stopped to think yet again. “Actually, I don’t do this ever. Wanna sit back here for a bit? See how it is from the dark side?”

Instead of sitting in a chair in the corner, I sat in a chair next to boxes among boxes of products. He dropped a box beside me that read “Urie Bears” and winked at me before going back to serve waiting fans. I listened to the band that was still playing and came to the conclusion that I really liked them. Shane informed me that their name was Ponding Thoughts and handed me a poster and CD. When I was grabbing for my wallet, he grasped my wrist with a laugh. “It’s a present from me.”

“Won’t...you get in trouble?” I stuttered out, my hands twitching around the CD case and rolled up paper. “I don’t...don’t want you to-”

“Ryan, it’s fine,” he sternly, yet gently said with a soft smile.

Ponding Thoughts ended their set and I sat up a little straighter, clearing my throat. The Last Rain was next, the band I’ve waited all night for, all week for. I put my complementary poster and CD under the chair and rose to my feet, tapping Shane on the shoulder. “Would it be alright if I went out there and got the stuff after?”

He bit his lip to contain his smile. “Get them again.” I blinked and slowly bent down to snatch the poster and CD in my hands. “We’re going backstage.”

He took a hold of my wrist, which caused me to nearly drop the poster because I was sort of in a state of shock, and dragged me to a door that was behind the large backdrop that displayed the garments. We were now in a white, narrow brick hall that had a droning sound that sounded like the pipes working at a thousand miles an hour. The door slammed shut loudly behind me and my feet followed Shane at his fast pace. At the end of the long hallway was the stage area where people scrambled with taking Ponding Thoughts’ instruments and amplifiers off the main stage and adding a few set pieces for The Last Rain.

I stared at the action in awe, a huge black curtain separating backstage from the performing stage. The loud roar of the audience was easily heard from the other side, from where I should be. I didn’t have a chance to take it all in, however, because Shane seemed to be in hurry somewhere. We were going up a steep staircase that was at the side of the stage and I tried to hold onto the railing but gave up since it wouldn’t be possible with the record I was holding. He was mumbling something about the elevator being out of service and how he was going to be as thin as a dime by the time they left the damn city with all the exercise he’s getting.

We got to the third floor and there was no hallway, but instead a walkway with a fence waist-high that prevented me from falling down to the backstage area. I saw a door labeled “Ponding Thoughts” and another labeled “TLR Private Catering.”

My palms began to sweat when I realized where I was. I was backstage, but not just backstage. Dressing rooms were in front of and behind me. It was overwhelming. “Sh-Shane?”

He took me down to the very last room, the door opened a small crack. “They won’t get mad. We can see Ponding Thoughts after, if you want-”

“Who goes there?!” a man yelled from inside the room, laughter immediately following.

Shane rose an eyebrow and kicked the door open with his foot, a group of men and women sitting around the room. I whimpered, very intimidated, and moved the poster to my already full opposite hand, holding both against my chest in protection. They all looked like they should. Not just the band, but everyone that was with them. They were dressed in a “I’m punk and better than you” way. It scared me and made me feel even more like a loser.

I looked down at my feet as Shane kept his hold on me. “This is Ryan, guys. He’s seriously the best fan I’ve ever met in my life.” I coughed awkwardly, the room silent and staring at me like I was an Egyptian display at the downtown museum. “He’s a little shy. He didn’t know who Brendon was until I told him.”

I whined quietly and wanted to bury myself a grave. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to be in the crowd with the other fans of their music, not disrupting the actual band’s time. Who was I to do so?

The room laughed gently but that didn’t make me feel any better, if not worse.

“Ryan.” Shane nudged me and I looked up at him before letting my eyes scan over everyone again. “Say hi.”

I bit my lip, hugging my free merch closer to me as I lifted my chin. I took in my surroundings this time, cigarette smoke everywhere along with cans, bottles, cups, and plates. They didn’t all have just the elite punk look to them, but also a fake personality one like the high school girl that takes everyone’s order at McDonald’s. You just know she isn’t happy about it, but she pretends. It’s her job just like this was theirs. “Hi...”

“Guys,” a man from the corner said, standing up and stretching his back while looking at a fancy watch that was around his wrist, “we have to head down.”

Three men stood up, three different women that sat next to them running a hand down their backs in good luck. I felt uncomfortable and out of place, shuffling my feet.

“Ladies and gents, your presence was very much appreciated,” the man announced from the center of the room, winking at a few people while everyone laughed like it was some sort of inside joke. Maybe it was because I was on the outside.

The three men, one of them I recognized as Brendon Urie from the poster, smiled at me and patted my shoulder before waving at Shane and running off. The man that did all the talking so far made his way to Shane and shook his head, causing Shane to chuckle. “Handful, Pete?”

The man, Pete, groaned. He moved us out of the room so he could shut the door behind him. We were in the middle of the walkway and down below us were guitars getting tuned and tested. The environment was so relaxed yet I wasn’t comfortable. “Don’t remind me.” He looked me over and raised an eyebrow. “Who’s this guy again?”

“Ryan. He’s pretty awesome. He said he hated ‘Living for Love,’ though,” Shane said in a playful way.

“I didn’t exactly say that-”

Pete creased his eyebrows, putting his hands in his back pockets. “Everyone I’ve ever met in my life loves that song,” he said more to himself, biting the inside of his cheek. “Why is that?”

I blushed severely, feeling more in the spotlight than ever before and not liking it too much. I glared at Shane softly, who was smirking and gave a nod in assurance to tell Pete my explanation. “Well...they’ve done better in their career,” I started slowly to make sure Pete really wanted to hear, and with his face firm in concentrated listening, I kept going. “It’s a pop song rather than their normal rock. Broad, I know, but that song is the sole definition of pop and it sticks out on that record like a sore thumb. Well, ‘Year 2000 Part 2’ is pop, too, but more revolutionary, like Madonna or something, so that’s an exception. ‘Living for Love’ is just a bunch of boy band crap, quite honestly. It doesn’t due the band justice at all.”

Pete nodded in understanding with his eyes still harshly on me in a challenging way. “If it’s not revolutionary like ‘Y2K2,’ then why did that single make this band the biggest in the world?”

I shrugged. “Same reason ‘Photograph’ did it for Def Leppard. Every band has to have that radio friendly song, don’t they, to get their name out there for the general public. That song is lyrical crap.”

Pete’s mouth moved up to a crooked smile. “I could talk to you all day, boy, you know that?” If my cheeks could blush anymore, my skin would burn off and I could almost swear that was going to happen. “But I have to get to the stage, so stick around after because I’d really like to hear your opinions some more. I really would.”

He held his hand out to me and I shook it like a 10-year old would for their grandpa to show how grown up they were. I felt foolish as he snorted but quickly cleared his throat to let my hand go, eying Shane in confusion before literally running to and down the stairs.

Shane put a hand on my shoulder, smug smile on his face. “You got to see your favorite band,” he said as I shifted my poster and CD a bit before tightly holding it against me again. “You can see them after, too, when you talk to Pete.”

“Is it really a good idea for me to be back here and meeting all these people?” I asked quietly in comparison to the loud setup noises underneath at the stage. The door opened and we both looked to see two woman, both in short dresses and extravagant makeup, stumble out in each other’s arms. They grinned and giggled at us, wiggling their fingers before stomping off in their stilettos. I couldn’t blush anymore when I saw the very base of their buttock’s as they bent over a little bit in laughter.

“It might not be a good idea, but it will do you some good, I think.” I stared at him in puzzlement because that statement contradicted itself in my ears. He only chuckled and started to walk back towards the stairs. “Let’s go. They’re starting soon.”

Practice Makes Perfect

2008-08-05T21:20:43Z

Title: Practice Makes Perfect
Pairing: Ryan/Alex Marshall [The Cab]
Chapter Rating: PG
Summary: Ryan and Alex are rehearsing for a music competition and Ryan gets side tracked.
Disclaimer: i have no proof, so it's not real.
Note: because i think ryan/alex are my new faves.

Alex looked up from the keyboard he was currently playing to glance at Ryan, who had his head down in concentration while his fingers skimmed quickly and pressured over the strings of his guitar. They were practicing a duet for an upcoming music competition and spent almost every night of the past three weeks working due to their lack of commitment in the beginning. Now they had to make up for the time by meeting together and playing whenever there was a spare second.

Ryan flashed Alex the quickest of smiles before focusing back on the never ending notes he had memorized in his head. All it was to him was F, G, B flat down, C, trick-i-ty loo, pop, F for everything he was doing. It was fast paced and starting to really take a toll on his fingers. He was guaranteed carpal tunnel once the contest was over, if not before.

They ended the piece at the same time, hitting different octaves of the same note, and sighed in relief when they realized they played it through at the right tempo with the required dynamics. It was perfect and they’d just have to rehearse it a million more times until it wasn’t shaky and was as solid as a rock.

“About time,” Ryan mumbled, flipping the pages back to the first and looking over it as Alex chuckled in agreement. “We should take a break. We deserve it.”

Alex smiled wide and laughed quietly. “We took a break the first three months. I think we can do it a couple more times without one.”

Ryan whined, holding his hand out and flexing it a couple times. “My hand is going to fall off.”

“We played it once,” Alex dully retorted, folding his hands in his lap and scanning the last page of music so he could remember how the last lines went so he wouldn’t have to look up from his fingers. “Come on, let’s go again.”

“But Aleeeeex,” Ryan complained again and sat next to his friend, pressing keys and laughing. “I wish my instrument was this easy.”

Alex cleared his throat and turned so he was facing Ryan completely. “Excuse me?”

“Well, you get to sit, for one, and you just use your fingers. I, however,” Ryan stopped to hold out his tired hand, “have to use my wrist, too, and my neck bends over and my back hunches and-”

“So does mine,” Alex gently interrupted, causing Ryan to shut up as Alex got in his familiar posture and began to play the intro of the song. Ryan watched Alex’s fingers graze against the keys and his eyes slip shut. He smiled, happy his partner was as into it as he was, if not more. “Plus my ass hurts.”

Ryan snickered and nodded, biting his lip when he saw Alex’s eyes open and tongue poke out of the corner of his mouth. His face and body felt a little warmer, hands a little more sweaty. He slowly moved his hand so it was hovering over one of Alex’s, carefully brushing his sore, red fingertips on the moving knuckles. Alex faltered, briefly glimpsing at Ryan from the corner of his eye, before resuming the middle of the song in precision.

Ryan decided to sort of make a small game out of this moment. He slid the points of his fingers up to Alex’s thin, boney ones before resting his palm gently on top of his hand. He froze when Alex stopped playing and debated at such a fast speed whether to pull away or not that he didn’t comprehend Alex staring at him.

“What’re you doing?” Alex asked softly, bending his fingers a little for Ryan’s to do the same.

“N...Nothing,” Ryan unsteadily replied, pulling back and putting his hands under his legs. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s...it’s okay,” Alex reassured and started to play again where he left off.

Ryan couldn’t take it as soon as the annoying slow part ran through his ears. That part was torture and he despised it. He put his hand on Alex’s cheek and turned it as he leaned forward and kissed his lips firmly. His heart pounded in his chest so violently that his torso swayed front and back from the force. Alex’s reaction was instant, kissing the guitarist back sweetly. Ryan envisioned kissing Alex before and it was almost always sweet and gentle. Just like now. Except for late nights in bed when he couldn’t sleep; his imagination then was a little more dirty.

Alex recoiled after a minute of their lips touching, gazing at Ryan with his head tilted. A smile came up, calming the stress and nervousness Ryan had, and his cheeks flushed considerably. “Shouldn’t we, um...get back to practicing?”

“I thought we were,” Ryan said in full innocence, kissing Alex a little harder this time.

Summertime Can Kick Your Ass

2008-08-04T03:35:46Z

Title: Summertime Can Kick Your Ass
Pairing: Ryan/Jon
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ryan gets a sunburn and is not very happy about it. Nope.
Disclaimer: i have no proof, so it's not real.

I whined as Jon opened the door to my apartment for me, arms stiff away from my body so they wouldn't touch my sides or anywhere else, and whined louder when I sat on the couch, my back not even hitting the backrest. "My ass hurts," I stated in disbelief. "My ass feels sunburned and I didn't even show my ass."

Jon shrugged while putting my air conditioner on and shutting the windows of my little living area. "You were outside all day, so it might have just slipped under?"

The instant cold caused goosebumps to form all over my body as I shivered, but I wasn’t going to complain because it felt so nice and burning against my high-temperature body, a sort of ache that was more reassurance that things would get better later on. “I don’t understand it, Jon,” I continued in my dubious voice as he went through my fridge and pulled out the full gallon of water I bought earlier in the week. “I put sunscreen on, I stayed in the shade for pretty much the entire day, I had a towel over my shoulders for some of the time...what the fuck?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Jon laughed quietly, sitting next to me and handing over a chilly glass of water that had exactly three perfect ice cubes in it. I was sort of obsessive compulsive when it came to ice cube shapes. They had to be perfect or I’d flip out and start all over. “I’m not a dermatologist or anything, so I can’t tell you much except that we did what we could and you’re a hopeless bastard.”

He said it so fluidly, so smoothly before putting his firm lips to the glass and chugging about half of it in two seconds. I would’ve found it enormously hot except for the fact he called me a hopeless bastard, but when his free hand went to wipe a line of sweat and condensation transferred itself from his finger to his head, I almost forgot. But I didn’t. “Go get some of that stuff from the bathroom. It has the blue cap and weird handle thing.”

He nodded and stood up, crossing the living room to enter the bathroom. I smiled a little to myself because it was small moments like this that made me feel fortunate for having a good friend like him. It’s cheesy, yes, but I know that if he would go through the small troubles of helping me with a sunburn, then he would probably go through bigger troubles if need be.

He came back, lotion in hand, and I quickly looked him up and down. He wasn’t sunburned at all really, maybe a little heat red at the tips of his shoulders, but instead was evenly tanned from head, down his chest and legs, to his damn toes. He was still sweating, like myself, and it made his skin appear even more tanned. Instead of thinking how sexy it was, my manliness was hit with jealousy.

He put the tube in my lap and grabbed his remaining water. “Is that the right stuff?”

I nodded and put my glass down on the side table, rubbing my hands on my thighs very, very lightly to dry them of any wetness. “Thank you.” He gave a nod as I opened the bottle and squirted a little amount onto the tips of my fingers, reaching over my shoulder to wipe it on my skin but instead froze to complain some more. “Owwwwie, ow ow holy mother of cheeeeese ow-howww, Joooon.”

He sighed dramatically and snatched the bottle from where it laid between us. “I have to do everything, don’t I?”

I smirked, seeing a double meaning in his statement, before wiggling my eyebrows as he filled his palms with cream. He rose an eyebrow at me and situated himself onto the floor, kneeling in front of me and running his cool hands over my legs gently. I shivered noticeably and blushed when he glanced up at me before looking back down to rub the ointment evenly into my skin. I leaned back to get more comfortable because, damn, he had a way with his hands, but I immediately jolted up in a harsh sting. He laughed softly as he put more lotion in his hands. “Shut up; I’m in agonizing pain,” I quietly said, biting my lip when he grabbed my left hand to have me lean out closer to him, moving his hands up and down my arm.

“Agonizing pain,” he chuckled and shook his head, moving himself to rest on his feet so he was a little higher up and more concentrated switching to my right arm. “I didn’t know the sun tortured you so badly.”

“Me neither,” I mumbled, his eyes flashing to mine before smearing the remains and sitting next to me again on the couch, refilling his hands with more of the tube’s contents.

His wrists touched my shoulders extremely tenderly and turned them so I was opposite from him and my back was perfectly exposed for him. He slid his wrists down and his palms pushed down delicately, my eyes shutting at the abrupt relief it sent my throbbing soreness. He slid his wrists lower, his fingertips trailing down my back to control the speed his hands were allowed to go. “Um. Are you feeling any better?” he asked, his hands swiftly going from opposite sides of my lower back to the center, meeting in the middle, and making their way up my spine.

My heart sped up when his fingers hit the bottom of my neck and moved back and forth to spread the lotion all over the untouched areas. “Yeah. My legs are all...tingly.” After I said it, I realized it probably wasn’t the lotion that was the reason my legs felt like sparkles falling from a high platform, and I think he knew it, too.

He didn’t waver, however, and continued rubbing until my skin didn’t have anything left on the surface. “Do you, uh, wanna get your stomach yourself...or...?”

“No,” I said pretty quickly and turned around until I was finally in front of him again, legs crossing underneath me. He smirked feebly, looking down as he put more cream in his hands. I felt stupid. “I mean-”

“I know,” he interrupted, nodding slowly as he replaced the cap with a snap.

Of course he knew.

He glimpsed at my chest for a moment then looked up at me quickly with a small smile, which I gave back, and he bit his lip as his eyes followed his hands onto my stomach. I shuddered for a second, taking a shaky breath because my nerves were pinpoint and he pulled back with a slight shake of the head. “Sorry-maybe I-”

“No,” I repeated sharply, his innocent face staring where some lotion got off on my stomach.

He didn’t move for a few moments, but he eventually gained the guts to put his hands on my collarbone and rub some lotion softly on the sensitive area with his fingers. He made a point to not have his face look at me and instead focus on where his hands were going to go. I glanced down to watch his somewhat trembling hands slide down my chest and to my stomach, circling them back up to spread all of what was in his hands.

His hands were no longer cool against my body but quite warm. The air conditioner steadied everything at first, but now that I realized just how sensual this was and how we both were conscious of it, my body heated for a different reason and his touch only igniting it.

The ointment was gone from his palms and my skin, yet I didn’t complain when he kept his hands on me. His fingertips pressed at the side of my neck and slid to my shoulders, my head becoming light and heart beating louder in my ears. “Jon,” I whispered, his eyes flickering to me as his hands covered both my nipples and the heel massaged them, a moan vibrating in the back of my throat.

He leaned closer while his left hand took hold of my right, lacing them together as our noses touched. He exhaled through his mouth, the air brushing against mine and causing me to smile. Jon was right there, with me, and nothing could make me happier. I placed my free hand over his and shut my eyes when his lips perfectly molded themselves around mine, my lower lip just under his.

His mouth so slowly began to open and I followed his lead, leveling so our lips were positioned on top of one another. Our tongues hesitantly reached towards each other, meeting in the middle where they danced while our lips tightened around them. I let his hands go and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer and closer until he was on top of me and shifted so we were lying down.

It hurt, the sunburn being pressured against the couch and him, and I whimpered but ran my hands through the back of his hair so he couldn’t pull away. As much as it hurt, I didn’t want him to pull away.

His right hand stayed over my heart and his left moved to my cheek, stroking his fingertips from just barely under my eyes, touching my eyelashes, to the corner of my mouth. Not only did my legs tingle then, but it was contagious and the rest of my body got the sparkly emotion and I knew he could probably feel it with my heart rate. My head was spinning and it was so easy to get caught up in him, lose myself in him.

To my disappointment, he pulled away, if only a small space, and his eyes were already opened when mine decided to do so. He was panting and it was only then when I realized our chests were rising and falling together at about the same speed. “Is this okay?” he breathed out softly, licking his lips.

I nodded and played with his hair lazily, anxiously anticipating for him to start kissing me again. “More than okay.”

“You know...” he cleared his throat and shrugged a shoulder, my eyebrows creasing in confusion, “if you need some...lotion on your ass still, I’d be willing to...you know, do that for you.”

I laughed and kissed him quickly, shaking my head as I did so. “I might take you up on that,” I hoarsely spoke in his ear truthfully, his eyes going a little wide as I tugged on the lobe between my teeth and sucked softly.

Before he could say anything, I winked with a grin and kissed him again, knowing that if I was allowing my sunburn to agitate me, it better be for a good reason. Jon was a good enough reason for me.

A/N: hi. the reason i haven't posted is because i had a surgery [it's no big deal] and the drugs made me lazy and tired, meaning no energy to get on my laptop. so. here's this and hopefully i'll update other stuff soon ^.^

Girls Say The Darnest Things

2008-07-26T05:08:50Z

Title: Girls Say The Darnest Things
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, Ryan/Keltie, mention of Ryan/Jac
Chapter Rating: NC-17
Summary: After Ryan brings up Keltie's dead dog, she gets back at him by asking about his relationship with Jac. At this question, he remembers a small little detail about how their relationship ended that had all to do with Brendon.
Disclaimer: i have no proof, so it's not real.

Keltie and I walk down the dark, quiet sidewalk alone. No one else is outside and that could either be a very good or very bad thing. We're in an awkward silence because I said something I shouldn't have a few minutes ago. I think it was fairly harmless, but when I brought up her passed away dog, she got stiff and has been ignoring me. We were discussing people that died, for Christ sakes, and I simply asked if she missed Toto. The answer is obvious, sure, but it was for mere conversation.

Her hand is in mine, holding tightly due to anger and nervousness. This is her first time in Las Vegas with me and she's been shady about everything, thinking a murderer is around every corner. It's starting to make me mad because I told her this area was nice. She must have ignored me or something.

"Tell me about Jac," she says bluntly in the monotone voice she picked up from me. It doesn't suit her very well.

I bite my lip and my shoes suddenly become pretty awesome because I can't tear my eyes away from them. I think she wants to get back at me for bringing up Toto, which is ridiculous because I'm pretty sure exes are a tad more personal than dead pets.

"Ryan." I shut my eyes for a few moments, hoping I can disappear and pop up somewhere else, pop up in a certain bandmate's apartment, but when I open them and see Keltie glaring at me, my plan didn't work. "Tell me about her."

It's my turn to hold onto her hand tight due to anger and nervousness now. We've brought up past relationships before but it wasn't as personal as I think Keltie wanted this time. Before, it was little "he did this to piss me off" or "she used to say this stupid thing," "he never did this like you do," "she didn't have your sense of humor." She wanted me to elaborate on all that I've ever said.

Her eyes on me intensify with the tone of her voice. "Ryan."

"She...was...nice?"

"Oh. Well. I couldn't figure that out on my own." I look back toward the ground. "Did you guys have sex often? Did you know she was cheating on you the whole time? Come on, Ry, tell me about her."

My head becomes light and dizzy, my stomach feels like it weighs a million pounds, my heart pounds against my chest harder, harder, harder to escape my body and drown itself in a lake. My eyes shift as I ponder what she said. How any of this was relevant to our relationship now I had no idea, but as my girlfriend, she had a right to know. I guess. "Not often and...no."

"We have a long walk, babe, you can say more than that."

She's teasing me now, for whatever reason she sees fit. I don't want to talk about Jac. I want to talk about Keltie and get to know her better than I already do. "I don't want to."

"Please, babe?" she says in that voice. That voice that hits my heart every single time it's used. She doesn't abuse that voice, so it works effectively every time.

"She...was dominant. And being the guy, I wanted to give her whatever she wanted. She demanded we go out, then I took her out. She demanded I cook, then I cooked. She demanded it, then I did it." I glance at Keltie to see if she's even paying attention or even cares about what I'm saying, and when her eyes are 100% on me, I keep going. "As for the, uh...cheating thing, I sort of initiated it-"

"By not giving her what she demanded?" Keltie cuts in as if she knew everything and, boy, she never will.

I shake my head and notice our walking pace slowed down significantly. "I cheated first...I suppose."

She gasps and we stop walking altogether. She crosses her arms over her chest, her eyes narrow on me, and foot taps viciously. "Excuse me?" she asks quietly. "You failed to ever mention that."

"I thought we were on a break," I clarify, even though it doesn't help the situation like I thought it would. "She yelled at me because I didn't want to have sex, said she'd find someone that found her sexy and that we were over. I took it. I hooked up with...someone...and she found out. She took me back and cheated on me, like, every night. She made it pretty obvious, so I kept getting with the person I hooked up with in the first place. It was lame."

She pulls me into a hug and runs her fingers through my hair, my arms slowly wrapping around her waist. "I'm sorry." I shrug because I'm passed it. I have been. "Who did you keep hooking up with?"

I rest my chin on her shoulder comfortably and close my eyes, letting a silence come between us once more.

"Brendon, get over here."

Brendon blinks at me and slowly makes his way down the hall, a smirk growing on his face when he sees mine. "Yes?"

I grab his hand, walking backwards and pulling him into our provided dressing room. "Spence and Jon are on the bus, right?"

"Mhmmmm," he drags out as he kicks the door shut with his foot. "The girls are running around somewhere-"

"Shh." I put a finger to his lips and shake my head. "No one cares about the vaginas."

He bursts out laughing and so do I as I lead him to the couch. I sit down and he sits on my lap, knees on either side of my thighs. "The vaginas."

I put a hand on the back of his neck, bringing him closer so our breaths mix together and our eyes reflect the other pair. I smile to myself when Brendon leans further and kisses me gently. I slide my hands to his hips and up his shirt, his mouth moving against mine rougher and his tongue swirling all around my mouth.

He pushes me on my back and yanks my shirt off after getting rid of his. He sucks on my neck, lucky that I have a ton of makeup to cover anything, and my hips lift off of the couch to rub against his. "You sure the vaginas won't walk in?" he whispers, making us laugh once more, but it quickly dies down when our hips are moving harder and faster. We both moan instead and he brings his hands between us to undo my pants. "I think you're the most gorgeous person I've ever laid my eyes on."

I whimper at the feel of his hands and I really want them to be on me. Or in me. He raises himself up to pull my pants off before stripping himself of his own and briefs. I told him underwear was never necessary, but I guess he didn't really think I would notice it first hand. I look him up and down and my penis hardens more. "Do you realize how hot you are?"

He blushes and situates himself on top of me once more. He kisses my neck while his hands spread my legs wider, one of them falling to the floor. I lick my hand as he sucks on his fingers, both of us getting worked up and more excited. I put my moist hand on his cock while two moist fingers push into me. I tense up and do my best not to squirm away as my hand tightens around him, causing him to gasp. "M-Move," he begs me as his fingers pull out a little bit before going back in.

I shakily move my hand, the pain of my lower region taking a toll on my whole body, which is embarrassing because we didn't have this problem last time, the first time. His fingers always hurt me more than his dick does and I really don't know why. "B-Bren?" He's panting in my ear and, God, it's the hottest sound I've ever heard in my life. "Just...do it."

He does. He bites my neck hard at the same time he pushes into me deeply. I arch my back because that's the feeling I remember, the one I've waited for. He runs a hand down my chest to hold onto my impatient hips that are twitching and anxious. He starts to move slowly, but still hard, and it's enough for me because if he went any faster, I'd probably quiver to death.

"Kiss me?" I ask and he does lightly to match the feeling of our movements.

The door opens a crack, but neither of us hear it. All we can hear is each other, our body's shuffling on the couch, and the sound check that's going on outside our door. So the fact that the music and static is just a tad louder than it was two seconds ago doesn't matter because we don't care about what's going on out there. We care about right here.

When the door clicks shut about a minute after the random loudness, Brendon looks over his shoulder to see the door shut like he left it. "Brendon," I whine because I think I need more attention from him.

He turns back to me, his face flushed and sweaty, and he kisses me harder just as he thrusts faster, clueless to the fact Jac was at the door.

"Random groupie," I softly lie, pulling back and kissing her cheek. "Wanna go get a hot dog?"

She chuckles but nods, grabbing onto my hand again as I lead us back towards the bright lights of the city's downtown.

The Loving Dead [10]

2008-07-24T04:22:19Z

Title: The Loving Dead [10]
Pairing: Ryan Ross/Edward Cullen
Rating: PG
Summary: Edward Cullen is a vampire that develops feelings on a human named Ryan Ross.
Disclaimer: edward belongs to mrs. meyer and i only the plot and the plot alone.
Dedication: dottyasrabbits because i love her and i owe her one ^.^ <3

"I wish you'd let me explain" with a purple flower.

"I thought about our date all weekend" with a yellow flower.

"I'd really like to make it up to you" with a pink flower.

"I would be stupid to ditch such a beautiful boy on purpose" with a blue flower.

I spent all night filling out the note cards and pairing them with a flower. Since there were more cards than flowers, I decided I'd go middle school anyway and stuff some in his locker.

"You have the most amazing eyes" would go in his locker because it didn't seem truck appropriate. "I'll let you abandon me sometime" with a yellow flower. I really liked the yellow ones and I hoped he would, too. They were sunny and happy and...the color that should represent us.

We got to school early the next day and I left Alice's and Emmett's side once we got in the building to wander to Ryan's locker. The hall was deserted, which was great because I really wanted this to be between me and him for as long as possible. Unless he called Brendon or something last night, saying some weirdo left him a flower and note. Then I was out of luck already.

I bent down at his locker and shoved the folded in half card underneath the crack at the bottom. I came to the conclusion that I didn't want him thinking someone else was doing it, so I'd stand nearby, pray he saw me, I'd give him a smile or...something, and we'd move on towards forgiveness.

My conclusion wouldn't happen now because as soon as I turned the corner, Alice was approaching me. "Hey," she waved. "Let's go in the cafeteria."

She knew. There was no way she couldn't know. The three of us would split up and not meet until lunch. She wanted to meet now-God, she knew. But I tried.

She grabbed my arm and dragged me into the empty cafeteria, excluding the lunch ladies that set up a little breakfast station for hurrying students for later this morning. "We are going to talk," she hissed, putting me in my usual chair at our usual table. "Just...explain to me your thought process because I'm just not getting it." She put her pointer fingers to her temples and rubbed them, eyes closed.

"Honest. He's just a friend-"

"Don't try lying," she snapped in a calm voice with a hint of starkness. "I'm not going to run off to Carlisle-Esme had a fit Saturday for him dragging you guys off. I'm not putting my foot forward for anyone anymore. This is for my benefit, Edward, so just tell me."

I looked down at my lap, picking my nails to reduce the stress we were both feeling. "I...He makes me feel not alone," I said stupidly, sighing as soon as the words left my mouth. "He gets me-what I tell him anyway. He's not like the bastards that whisper about us and think we can't hear. He ignored them and came straight to me, okay? He...came to me and..." I was shivering a little now because I was getting into emotions I haven't been to in years. "It's a big deal for me. He's a big deal for me."

Her breathing wasn't heavy, but I could hear it. I think her brain was panting from trying to organize everything. "There's other vampires, Edward, others that would-"

"No. I don't want a vampire. He's..."

"Blood," she finished for me, her eyes opening. "He's a big bubble of warm, flowing blood. A millimeter under him is what can destroy us, Edward, you know why Carlisle is so angered."

I shook my head, grabbing one of her hands that was on her face and petting it. "He doesn't trust me, but he needs to. I'm not some fool I was years ago. We all moved passed it, which is why we are here. We're around humans anyway, so why does this particular one matter?"

Alice bit her lip and she wasn't telling me something. She was thinking about unicorns and rainbows and when she did that, it was a red flag.

"Alice..."

"I'm not supposed to tell you," she whispered, sadness running over her face.

"I'll find out anyway," I chuckled.

But she wasn't finding this funny. She looked me in the eyes as a few students came into the room, talking quietly. "It's...because he's a guy...and you're a guy, too. He...Carlisle is afraid that...okay, he'd have a bigger problem if it was a girl, but-"

"He knows though. He knows I don't like women like that and I like men. Why...How is that any problem?" Her thoughts were just buzzing now and I couldn't focus with how distracting it was. I couldn't deal with this now. "I'm gonna go."

She gave a nod, staying put because she had study hall in here first period anyway.

During lunch, Ryan glimpsed at me with a blank expression before turning back to his friends to discuss their upcoming weekend plans. It saddened me because I ruined his previous weekend and that thought couldn't erase from my mind. It wouldn't disappear from his either. At that moment, I decided to leave him another note, so I stood up and ignored everyone as I walked out of the cafeteria. I headed straight to his locker and tucked in another card that was in my bag's front pocket, happy that I couldn't feel the previous note because that meant he actually read it. Or had it in his possession at one point of time, at least.

After school, I dashed out of my final class and to the parking lot, leaving a flower with message under his windshield wipers. It was misty and muggy outside, so I hoped that the flower or paper wouldn’t get too gross or anything.

The rest of the week went on like this. Morning note, afternoon note, after school flower. He didn’t bash me or scream or anything, so I took it as a good sign that maybe I was getting through to him. I prayed that I was.

By the time Friday came, I had only one flower left, but that was alright because I had probably 50 cards that had phrases of apologies, caring, regret, and romance on them. I knew his plans for the weekend-his friends just so happened to speak loud about them when they walked passed me. By chance, of course. Ryan never said anything back and kept his head lowered when they did this. They were going to go to an amusement park all day then go to a hotel for the night, in which made Brendon particularly excited. I could only have three guesses as to why and two would be Ryan.

I didn’t put a flower on his truck today, though. I chose to keep it for when I thought the time would be right. Not in a cheesy way, but more of a begging one. My last resort was a stupid yellow plastic flower and that made me feel more pathetic. I’d get over it.

I put two notes on his truck to make up for the lack of flower and slowly shuffled to my car where Alice and Emmett were sitting, staring at me harshly like they had all week. They’d get over it, too. I was pretty sure Emmett tattled to Carlisle about my actions, but nothing was said to me about it, so I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. Maybe he thought Ryan and I had a date and he’d just wreck that. Again.

I got in the driver’s seat and sped home, picking my nails while resting my wrist on my knee. I was happy it was the weekend because I could let my brain be filled with philosophical theories and biologic facts. It was the best way to calm my temper and stress and I could only wish I had enough books to keep my mind away from Ryan. From everything.

Alice was starting to feel sorry for me, starting to see my situation from Esme’s perspective probably, and once I parked in the driveway, her pity for me rained on top of me. “Edward-”

“Don’t come in my room-either of you.” I glanced back at Emmett before tossing the car keys on Alice’s lap and getting out.

I gripped onto my bag tighter and gave a polite nod to Esme as I got in the house, Carlisle sitting next to her with a pleased look, which I wasn’t sure of because absolutely nothing had happened all week that was either good or bad.

I slammed my bedroom door shut and lied on the couch, rubbing my palms in my eyes and screaming quietly, more so whining than anything but still a tad high on the pitch end. I let myself think and wander off until I snapped out of my depressing emotions to see it was dark, which was good because I wanted to just run around the forest until my legs broke. It could take all day, but I wanted to do it. My plans paused when I heard a loud engine roar coming from outside.

I got up and looked out the window to see his truck. Ryan’s truck in my driveway. His eyes barely met mine through the night and dim porch light, but they met and the world froze. I missed when that happened.

I laughed quietly and sprinted out of my room, down the stairs, out the door, and to Ryan, who was leaning against the front of his truck with the driver’s door open. I tucked my hands in my pockets, looking down at his feet as I slowly approached him closer. “I’m so, so-”

“Sorry,” he quietly finished. “I could almost tell from all the attention I’ve been receiving.” We both laughed softly. Awkwardly. “Is my trust...really worth all that you made me believe?”

“Ryan, you’re worth everything. Your trust, your loyalty, your...you are.” I reached out for his hand and barely touched it before he was pulling away with a gasp. “I’m sorry. I’m...I forget.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s...it’s okay...”

I could practically feel a million sets of eyes stabbing into my back, watching my every move, and if they were going to spy, I’d give them something to watch. I rose my hand to his face and my fingertips lightly pressed into his cheek, his head twitching to the side before relaxing. I licked my lips and lowered my face towards his, my nose poking his before I pressed our lips together.

He smiled and shakily put a hand over mine, pulling back a little. “I appreciate all that you’ve done.”

I nodded before something clicked inside me. I reached behind me and pulled out my one flower, holding it between us and up to his face. “It’s my last one.”

His eyes went wide as he looked around me to see where I got it from, causing me to smirk. He took it, astonished, and stared at the petals. “How...?”

I shrugged and leaned to his ear, inhaling his skin scent before mumbling, “I’m full of secrets, Ry. Will you be with me to find them out?”

A/N: holy crap, i suck with updates and its summer, so i should be like bambambam, but i have a job, but i do nothing at that job, so i have no real excuse, so im terriblyterribly sorry, but thank you to everyone thats sticking through this with me and my other [to be finished] fics. i swear, most are written, but i have to think of endings and/or proofread.

again, thank you :D

His Lips Are Sealed [4]

2008-07-24T04:05:32Z

Title: His Lips Are Sealed [4]
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, Ryan/Pete, other small ones
Chapter Rating: PG
Summary: Cody Laurence was living the high-life until he saw something that he wasn't supposed to. Before he knows it, he's George Ryan Ross the third and living in the countryside.
Note: Cody the character [haha =|] is Ryan before the name change, jsyk. Cody=Ryan. Ryan's body is named Cody until I say so. :D
Disclaimer: very, very, very loosely based off the olsen twins' movie, "our lips are sealed." other than that, all fiction.

Cody buckled up and looked at all the people sitting around him. Most of them, if not all, were tourists, messing around with their cameras, reading travel books and pamphlets, and talking excitedly to anyone that would listen. All clueless about the fact a man among them was wanted by the damn mafia. Not that it mattered to any of them, but the thought felt heavy in the pit of Cody's stomach. It seemed like lying almost because it was a big deal, but not to them, so he let the matter rest in his brain. If only he could do the same for the feeling in his stomach.

"Good morning and welcome to American Airlines flight 3033 nonstop to Dublin, Ireland-"

Wait. Where?!

Cody looked at all the books and brochures people were reading to see Ireland, Ireland, Ireland. He listened to the chatter about Samuel Adams beer and Blarney Stone. He instantly grew worried and stood up, going to the front of the plane to see the woman that took his ticket. "Excuse me-"

"No. Excuse me," she interrupted harshly. "The aircraft is in motion on the runway and you-"

"I'm supposed to be going to Prague, not...Dublin-"

She smirked knowingly for a few seconds so Cody could get a hint, any hint at all, before frowning at him. "Sir, please resume your seat-"

"No," Cody snapped, tired of secrecy and being clueless. This whole journey was rough enough already and she certainly wasn't making things simpler. "Let me off."

She grabbed his shoulder and pressed her nose against his cheek, whispering angrily, "Would we really drop you off where they don't speak English?"

"But Spencer said-"

"Shut up," she retorted, pushing him in the aisle as they both ignored the curious and concerned looks of the other passengers. She smiled sourly. "Please take your seat."

And he did.

He wasn't able to have his iPod or a book with him because when the group of detectives loaded his belongings, they didn't think to leave anything out for the boring, multi-hour long flight. Not that he would've paid attention to either because his mind was flooding and swimming around many thoughts. George, Dublin, aggressive flight attendants that aren't really flight attendants...at least in Ireland, they spoke a slight version of English. He could deal with that.

When the plane landed, Cody was confused and without an envelope that Spencer promised him. Instead of rushing off of the plane like everyone else in bouncing excitement, he stayed put because, really, he was in a foreign country that he knew nothing about. As soon as everyone, including the pilot, were off, the undercover attendant walked over to him with a thick manila envelope. "You do what anyone tells you to do from here on out, you got that?"

"How was I supposed to know?" he asked innocently. "Spencer said Prague, so I was expecting Prague-"

"You were still Cody then, too. Cody went to Prague. George came here to Dublin." Cody swallowed a lump of saliva as he felt his throat become extremely dry. "So, George, in here is some information. Where you will be living and the directions to get there from here, where you will be working and directions on how to get there from your apartment, employment information and expectations, and your vehicle description and location. I believe your car is in the parking structure across the street, but this will tell you for sure." She tossed the packet on his lap before pulling out a necklace that was tucked in her shirt and revealing a set of keys. "These are your car, garage, and house keys."

Cody held his hand out for them and nodded, holding onto them tight. "So. That's it?"

"Yes. Just keep in mind that we're watching you until we see fit." Cody bit his lip, looking down at the sachet he was given. "You can open that in here. I'll be waiting out in the ramp if you have questions."

Cody slowly opened the flap and pulled the inside papers out. The sheets were all a bundle of information that he would have to memorize and pretend that he knew for a very long time. He looked over the thorough instructions on how to get to his apartment building, which included turn by turn street names and landmarks, and flipped over to see the directions to his work that were written the same way.

His eyes went wide when he saw what his car would look like. "Mercedes Kompressor," he whispered to himself in shock. "Holy cripes."

Then he remembered he was in Europe and that everyone would be driving around in a Mercedes or BMW like it was no big deal. He could get used to that fairly quickly.

He saw a picture of his apartment building and sighed because an apartment was so much smaller than a condominium, which was the exact reason he got one in the first place. He would just work enough so he could move out and into a bigger one later on, so it was no big deal for him.

Everything had to be no big deal.

He walked off of the plane finally to the ramp where the familiar flight attendant stood with his three bags resting by her feet. “I looked over everything and...I think I can get the hang of this.”

“That’s splendid, Mr. Ross. Thank you for flying with American Airlines flight 3033 and we hope to serve you again soon.” She winked again and walked back onto the plane.

Cody put the large knapsack on his back while grabbing the handles of the two big suitcases and wheeling them up the ramp. He was pleased he wouldn’t have to wait by the baggage claim and could instead deal with the fact he had no idea what to do. He followed signs until he was outside where the hotel shuttles, cabs, and pickup sites were. Across the lanes sat the parking complex and he crossed the way quickly but carefully. Once on the other side, he took the envelope out from his back pocket and looked inside to see where the location of his car was. “Level 5, red.”

He took an elevator up to floor five and searched for something red. He saw a blue pillar, a green one, a purple, and at the farthest end was red. He tiredly made his way over, the heaviness of the bags really starting to get to him now. He unlocked the drivers side and opened it up to see the steering wheel on the opposite side, the side where the passenger should be. “Are you kidding me?” he mumbled, throwing his luggage on the empty seat in front of him and slamming the door before dragging himself to the driver’s side. He thought they did that only in England.

He rubbed his face and took a deep breath before starting the car, telling himself on repeat that he was George and driving a normal, not funky, car. A normal car that would be on the wrong side of the road. He shook his head, pulling out of the space to make his way down, down, down to the main street. He stopped at the intersection and quickly pulled the directions out before making a right like the paper told him.

He tried to pay attention to what was around him for future reference, but it seemed that his home would be far away from the airport. He instead concentrated on not making a wrong turn and getting himself more lost. He had a GPS somewhere, but it was in one of the bags. Which one? He didn’t know and he didn’t want to dig through it all.

After a long 45 minutes, he was deep in the country and he swore he was lost, doomed, damned, but the paper told him he was going the right way, so he had no choice but to keep following it. Eventually, he drove up to a tiny town that his apartment would be located in. It took him almost no time at all to spot the building because it was easily one of the biggest in a two mile radius.

He slowly pulled into the parking lot and stared up through the windshield at his new home before getting out. “Second floor, 22,” he read from the sheet before stuffing it back with the other documents.

He carefully maneuvered his belongings like he had at the airport and climbed the stairs, since there was no sign of an elevator. He stopped in front of the first door on the left, unlocking it and nudging the door open with the top of his head. He took the room in from the hall and he wasn’t completely disappointed because he was expecting nothing but big space that could be replaced as a dump. It was a typical apartment and he could work with it.

“Well, George,” he sighed, kicking his suitcases through the open doorway because he was too exhausted to lift them anymore. “This is it.”

His Lips Are Sealed [3]

2008-07-21T05:05:02Z

Title: His Lips Are Sealed [3]
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, Ryan/Pete, other small ones
Chapter Rating: PG
Summary: Cody Laurence was living the high-life until he saw something that he wasn't supposed to. Before he knows it, he's George Ryan Ross the third and living in the countryside.
Note: Cody the character [haha =|] is Ryan before the name change, jsyk. Cody=Ryan. Ryan's body is named Cody until I say so. :D
Disclaimer: very, very, very loosely based off the olsen twins' movie, "our lips are sealed." other than that, all fiction.

Spencer, one police officer, and two detectives took Cody to the airport the very next morning. The group that Spencer excused the previous night went to gain supplies to dye his dark brown hair to a lighter shade and cut it shorter with a different styling. He was also given a brand new wardrobe, but since the clothes were packed and locked inside the large, bright red suitcase, he wouldn't be able to see them until he arrived at wherever he was going. He didn't have a chance to say goodbye to any of his friends either since his hair transformation took the entire night. He did, however, manage to sneak a single text message to Gabe that simply said "goin outta town. bbl." He wasn't sure if he was sent anything back because Spencer took the phone away and destroyed it with a hammer on the desk.

The two detectives were checking in Cody's three suitcases while Cody himself was staring at his passport. He kept glancing between his picture, which was taken last night and somehow developed hours later, and his new name. He didn't look or sound anything like a George, so he had no idea how he would pull this off. George. Of all the names in the world and they picked the most disgusting one.

"Now." Cody looked up at Spencer, who held his plane ticket. "Once I hand you this little piece of paper and you step onto that plane, that's it. You're George Ross, always has been, always will be."

Cody anxiously bent his passport between his fingers, back and forth, staring at the stupid paper that would change everything. His heart beat a little bit faster at the thought. "If you catch those...two guys, I can come back, right?"

Spencer chuckled and shook his head, patting Cody on the shoulder. "It's the mob, Cody. They're after relatives of the people their great-grandparents hated, still." Cody gulped as his heart sped up even quicker. He wouldn't be surprised if he passed out in point one second. "When you get there, a flight attendant will hand you a pair of keys and an envelope as soon as you land. Then you'll be on your own. Except we're gonna, like, keep an eye on you for a year or so. Sound good?"

Cody blinked and his fidgeting stopped, although his new passport was wrinkly now and the detectives that had his bags were joined with them. "I'm gonna be stalked for a year? No. That doesn't sound good."

"It's not like we're gonna peak in your bathroom window while you shower." Spencer rolled his eyes, but smirked before looking Cody up and down. He certainly wouldn't mind doing that. Doing that as in spying on Cody showering, of course. "You gonna take the damn ticket or not? Your flight leaves soon."

Cody nodded and slowly took it. He stared at it just as he had his passport, not really processing the print, until his eyes' attention was grabbed by the city destination. He creased his eyebrows in confusion and looked up at Spencer, who had a small smile on his face. He glanced at the detectives, who had stern faces and looking around at every traveler in suspicion, while the police officer gazed at him. "Where you goin'?"

"Prague...Czechoslovakia-"

"Czech Republic," Spencer interrupted, gleaming. "It'll be fun. Nice city, nice people, nice castles-"

"I don't speak...Czechian or whatever-"

"No. Just Czech. They speak a little English, though." Spencer rubbed Cody's back, a brighter grin on his face. "Do not show anyone but the ticket taker your passport. You're Cody until that plane takes off into the air, understand?" Cody nodded. "Now, go through security and be safe, alright? Everything will click when you get there."

Cody nodded again and maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He was regretting not thinking through his final answer more because he wasn't sure if he was ready. At that time, though, he was only concerned about not getting killed. Now he was concerned about everything he should have thought of. He's leaving everything he's ever known forever without a trace. Sure, his friends weren't his brothers or anything, but he enjoyed their company and loyalty as they did him. "I-I don't-"

"You signed and authorized everything, Cody. The only way you could ever come back is if we shut the mafia down. Which we never will." Cody's face fell even more and Spencer noticed instantly. He decided to help Cody by saying some encouraging news. "In five years, you can come and visit. Or a funeral of a close friend or family member. We'll send you a letter then." Now that the words were out, they didn't sound as positive as he hoped.

"Spencer, I can't." Cody sniffed as his body began to lightly quiver and he held the ticket back with a shaky hand. "I-I can't."

"You have to." Spencer's heart slowly fell apart at Cody's fear. He was so young and being told so much in such a little amount of time. Hell, he'd be scared, too, if he was in Cody's shoes. He was even scared for the guy. He carefully pulled the teary eyed boy against his chest to hug him and whispered in his ear, "I'll make an exception. Stay for two months and I'll check up on you. We can discuss things further then. Fair?"

Cody wiped his nose with the back of one hand while the other gripped onto the ticket and passport tighter to contain his stress and unsureness. "Fair."

Spencer let Cody go so he wouldn't be late for take off. As much as he knew Cody wasn't comfortable, he knew this would all be for the best in the end. The mafia weren't people anyone wanted to deal with, including the government. They were everywhere as anyone and Spencer could only hope that no one recognized Cody somehow at the place they were sending him.

Cody rushed to Gate 9D the second security let him put his shoes back on. He was scarce on time due to his doubts and conscience. One thing he could be known for as George is that he always runs late, which is a complete lie because he's always early except for this one instance. He didn't want to think about that yet. He wanted to get on the plane first.

The attendant ripped the ticket stub and handed one part back to Cody with a smile before stamping the passport and returning it, Cody pocketing both. "Enjoy your flight, Mr. Laurence."

"Y-Yeah. Thanks."

She winked and slowly pushed Cody's back so he was on the loading track, mumbling, "Enjoy your new life as well," in a singsong voice and slamming the connecting door shut so there was no turning back.

He blinked at the door before making his way down the ramp and to the waiting plane. "No turning back," he said to himself, wondering if every person he'd meet was undercover and with the government.

He'd end up being surprised by who was disguised.

His Lips Are Sealed [2]

2008-07-19T02:13:44Z

Title: His Lips Are Sealed [2]

Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, Ryan/Pete, other small ones
Chapter Rating: PG
Summary: Cody Laurence was living the high-life until he saw something that he wasn't supposed to. Before he knows it, he's George Ryan Ross the third and living in the countryside.
Note: Cody the character [haha =|] is Ryan before the name change, jsyk. Cody=Ryan. Ryan's body is named Cody until I say so. :D
Disclaimer: very, very, very loosely based off the olsen twins' movie, "our lips are sealed." other than that, all fiction.

"What did you all see, exactly?"

Cody was currently sitting in Detective Spencer Smith, C.I.A.'s fancy hotel room with more detectives and police officers surrounding him with angered and interested looks on their faces. He barely was allowed time for a shower, the door pounding and a yell of "You have ten minutes starting now" during the process of him scrubbing shampoo out of his hair. From that point on, it was just rushing and dragging. He was rushed to get dressed, dragged outside to a car with tinted windows, rushed to this hotel room, and dragged to a chair.

He was tired, hungry, had half a hangover pulsing through him, and overall confused. He had to answer silly questions, such as why did he choose to go to that nightclub last night, how many people did he go with, what flavor was the birthday cake, what kind of drinks he had, how many people he danced with, and it was all irrelevant to his brain. But if the official people wanted to know stupid answers, he'd give it to them, even if this question came out of no where and finally meant something.

"A man. On the ground-bleeding from his forehead from a bullet-"

"Did you see the bullet go in?" Spencer interrupted, Cody shaking his head for the entire room to sigh in annoyance. "If you didn't see it, then you can't prove it. I'm asking what you saw, not what you think happened."

Cody wanted to kick the back of Spencer's knees and push him to the ground. He didn't need attitude because he was the one that was practically abducted from his house at God knows what hour of the morning and now he was being snapped at. He only wanted to help them. Not like he had a choice, but even if he did, he would. "A man on the ground was bleeding from what I myself believe is a gunshot wound because a younger male had a gun pointed to his forehead, so I sort of put two and two together."

"Thank you," Spencer said gently, looking over at the detective that was taking down his every word as another was holding a voice recorder. "Now you get the idea. What else?"

"There were two men. Larger and in suits like you have on. Exactly like those. They both had at least one gun because one man was keeping a hold of one to the younger guy and the other pointed it at me when he saw I was...sort of taking in everything."

Spencer nodded, rubbing his chin. "The same guy that chased you and shot your car windows?"

"Yes sir," Cody quietly confirmed, looking down at his lap.

The detective holding the recorder shook his head and asked, "Could you please repeat that last part?"

"Yes sir," he said loudly in a mock-yelling sort of way. "The same guy that shot my windows."

"You don't know what happened to the boy that was still alive in the bathroom, correct?"

"Correct."

Spencer nodded, the man that was taking notes handing him a small notepad and pen. Everyone left the room, except for Spencer, and Cody felt like he was going to pass out. He needed to rest more, not having a very comfortable sleep the previous night, or at least have food for energy, which he had none of. Spencer sat next to him, sighing. "I'll be straight with you, okay? No curves or turns." Cody bit his lip anxiously. "Due to...prior activities, what you have told us, and what the club manager that was working last night told us, this all leads us towards the Italian mafia, okay? They've been more public lately, which none of us understand, but as you should know from common sense, they aren't very nice." Cody's breathing began to shake along with his hands and shoulders. "They'll make sure to find and take care of you. It happened just last week."

"W...What happened last week?" Cody quietly dared himself to ask.

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, moving in his spot as he thought for a few moments. "We aren't supposed to make this story known, but you have a right to know, since I brought it up." Cody wasn't so sure anymore and wanted to take his sentence back, but at the same time, he was sure. "In other instances, we find that two or more people are in relations to them-the mafia in somehow. They end up dead along with one or two other random people that work, reside, or were within a half mile radius of the murder point a day or less after that killing initially happened."

Cody's eyes grew wide and his heart sped up. He felt like he did last night when he was next to Gabe, challenging his body to another shot that was one shot too many. He felt like that exact moment he put the shot glass down and his body couldn't take it. He couldn't take it now and he was scared again. Scared for his life once more.

"So what we have to do, if you choose to do so and I highly recommend you do, is put you in a safe location away from New York City under a new identity. Now, this means sacrificing everything except your parents and family-"

"I have no family," Cody bitterly interrupted and Spencer saw his eyes darken, taking it as a mental note.

"Right. You will have no further contact with current friends, bosses, acquaintances, or other human beings you have been in contact with since you’ve been born. You will have a new physical look in any extremely rare case that they somehow find you, which they shouldn’t in the place we picked out for you-”

“Where is it?” Spencer slowly shook his head. “Where is it?” Cody repeated a little more forcefully.

“I can’t tell you until I hand you your plane ticket at the airport with your new passport-”

“Passport?” Cody cut him off again, trying to comprehend everything in the small time they had so far, which was proving difficult. It seemed all too surreal to be true and he couldn’t take it, but he wanted to.

Spencer chuckled. “I gave you enough of a hint right there. Anyways, we have a job lined up for you there already along with a pending apartment. If you decide to do this, we take care of all your money and anything that has your name on it.”

“If I suddenly disappear, won’t the mafia ask the bank where my new account is or something?”

Spencer smirked and leaned closer to Cody. “The thing is that we lie to everyone. They can’t question us, we have authority, they don’t know you. Once it’s in our hands, we can do whatever we want. Of course, within reason. We may be the law, but we can also go to jail.” He chuckled to himself as if remembering a past memory gone wrong and Cody was nervous. What if this C.I.A. detective spends all his money on a Gucci wallet? “But no need to worry about that. We give you statements before and after we do everything, in case you have worries or problems later on. Both in your new name, I’m afraid, but we stamp it with different dates to tell the difference.”

Cody valued his life more than his friends because all they were was a way to waste time with other people really. They weren’t like brothers or family to him, but sometimes he made them out to be so he didn’t feel so alone. He was always alone and having people that texted him “wana go2bar @7?” gave him a reason to live. Now he was being offered a second chance at life and literally.

“If...If I were to agree, how long would it take for me to move?”

Spencer shrugged. “Whenever you’re finished packing.”

Cody creased his eyebrows and looked down at the closed notepad on Spencer’s lap. They could get him to leave whenever he wanted, it seemed like, and he wanted to take that deal, he really did. Except he didn’t want to just up and leave his guys. After all they’ve done for him to become not-so socially awkward, he couldn’t just abandon them. “Where do I tell everyone I’m going?”

“You tell them the story we have made up for you. There’s no telephone number or address, of course, because it’s fake.” He paused, thinking of an afterthought. “Oh. I forgot to mention that if you do communicate with past identity persons, it’s against the law and you can be thrown in jail. No need to hide from the mafia because you’ll be behind bars.” Cody gulped as Spencer remembered something else, all the negatives coming to him as Cody crawled closer to the decision of doing so. “Oh, and if you talk about anything from your past identity, including a birthday party from when you were six, a concert, a vacation, or anything, you immediately call us or face future consequences because, trust me, we find everything out from around the world.”

“What do I tell anyone then? I can’t tell them my history, so what do I-”

“Make it up,” Spencer whispered, thumb rubbing across the top of the notepad as he stared deeply into Cody’s confused eyes. “New identity, new past, new everything. You can base it on some of your old identity. Like...Like that birthday party from when you were six. Say it was at Chuck E. Cheese, that’s fine, but don’t say that...that your best friend Tom Cruise was there. Say Randy Jackson instead.”

Cody blinked at Spencer like he was nuts. And this guy was with the C.I.A.? “Tom Cruise and Randy Jackson?”

Spencer rolled his eyes and sat up straight, cracking his back and glancing down at his watch. “Interested? You can sleep on it, too, because an impulse choice isn’t exactly what I want from-”

“I’ll do it.”

Spencer rose an eyebrow and opened the notepad, revealing a piece of paper that was full of scribbles after scribbles from top to bottom. Cody couldn’t make out any of the writing, since it was so small, messy, and he was too far away. “You have to sign some consent papers, but while I get those ready, you can look over this.”

Spencer stood up, leaving the notepad behind, and walked to the large desk in the corner that held briefcases among briefcases side by side. Cody slowly grabbed the pad of paper, looking over at Spencer to make sure he was really supposed to do this, and when he saw Spencer too entranced with digging through one of the end cases, he came to the conclusion it was okay.

He rose the paper to in front of his face and read the very top line that said “George Ryan Ross III.”

A/N: i felt persuaded enough to write another ^.^
<3

His Lips Are Sealed [1]

2008-07-18T02:46:40Z

Title: His Lips Are Sealed [1]
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, Ryan/Pete, other small ones
Chapter Rating: R
Summary: Cody Laurence was living the high-life until he saw something that he wasn't supposed to. Before he knows it, he's George Ryan Ross the third and living in the countryside.
Note: Cody the character [haha =|] is Ryan before the name change, jsyk. Cody=Ryan. Ryan's body is named Cody until I say so. :D
Disclaimer: very, very, very loosely based off the olsen twins' movie, "our lips are sealed." other than that, all fiction.

Cody Laurence was living the glamorous high-life in New York City until he saw something that he wasn't supposed to on his 21st birthday.

He was out with his small group of forty friends at a nightclub called The Hole on the Westside of the city. They were all clean, dressed up, smelling good, and in happy spirits because the youngster of the group was finally up to par with everyone; until the oldest member of the circle turned 22 in a couple of weeks. They all showed their identification cards, Cody showing his proudly with a you-can’t-reject-me-now-bitch attitude, since it had happened to him many times before.

“Hey, Cody!” The called looked down the bar, where a few of them were seated at, to his friend Gabe. They’d been at the hotspot since it’s opening a few hours ago and all Cody managed to do was dance for two songs and drink for the rest. “Do 21 shots!”

Colorful lights flashed around him as the music kept a steady bass beat pounding through the air. People were all over the place, in a mess to a sober eye, and Cody didn’t have that anymore to only be a part of that chaos. He moved over to Gabe, slowly and leaning onto random people when he felt necessary. He fell into an empty seat right next to his friend and wrapped an arm around the back of his neck. “Thanks for bringing me here, man!” he shouted over the music, an appreciative and drunken smile on his face.

“No problem, man!” Gabe ordered a line of seven shots and rubbed Cody’s back. “How much did they buy you down there?”

Cody groaned, unable to think straight and not completely wanting to either. “Too much,” he groused as the smile faded off his face and the realization that maybe he consumed too much in too little of time running through him.

Gabe laughed loudly, which didn’t bother Cody because of the fact that everything blended in with the music and laughter and chatter anyway. “It’s your birthday! The night is young!”

The man had a good point, Cody figured. It was his damn birthday and he was going to celebrate it like no other. He was finally able to go everywhere he ever wanted and do everything with no worries of getting busted with his fake I.D. He grabbed one shot glass, put it to his lips, tilted his head back, and gulped it. Once the liquid left a smoldering trail down his throat and rested on top of the rest of the drinks from the night, his gag reflex kicked in. He pushed it already with his zero alcohol tolerance and it wasn’t even midnight yet.

He jumped off of his seat and stumbled away from the bar, ignoring Gabe’s loud cackling as his unclear vision tried to scope out doors to a bathroom or a hallway that could possibly lead to one. He couldn’t spot any garbage bins, but what crowded nightclub with idiotic partygoers would leave out cans for waste?

He caught sight of a slightly lit up hallway, not sure if it was his answer but taking a chance seemed pretty okay with him at about this point. He pushed through dancers, getting bounced back and forth like a ping pong ball, and his stomach couldn’t take the fast movements too much longer. For good measure, he covered his mouth up loosely so maybe folks would use their common sense. Then he remembered where he was and what the purpose of the place was. He was on his own.

He made it to the hallway pretty quickly in his opinion and he would’ve howled for joy that there were, indeed, bathrooms if he didn’t feel his mouth get overly moist and his heart beating extremely loud in his ears. His grip over his mouth tightened while he pushed the door open with his hip and tumbled inside the small, stinking room. At that moment, he noticed a few things.

The first was the garbage can, overflowing with paper towels, so he sprinted at it and grabbed the top as his stomach let out everything he drank and ate from the day. The paper towels suck down due to the new weight that kept adding on and on, which hurt Cody physically, but he knew that in the end, it would feel better. The second thing was the fact he wasn’t alone in the bathroom, which wasn’t uncommon so he thought nothing of it. Until he looked up.

His hearing suddenly kicked in as his heart quieted down and he saw two large men, dressed in black, holding a gun to the head of a younger looking boy, maybe 16. The boy was breathing hard with whimpers every so often and Cody saw where the boy seemed to be staring at. On the ground was an older man, father-like age, with a gunshot wound right between his eyes with blood still freshly pouring out onto the ground. If Cody had any material left to vomit, then he would have at the sight.

“Hey!” one of the men shouted, breaking Cody from his long moments of observation and seeing that another gun was now pointed at him.

He didn’t even think twice before running out of the room, most of his intoxication leaving his body, and down the short hallway into the mass of the club. He looked over his shoulder to see one of the men staring directly at him and he decided maybe he should just keep running, so he did just that. He impolitely shoved through dancers as fast as they would let him and he didn’t dare look back because that could only slow him down.

He was scared as he neared the exit that would let him outside. What if the guy was close behind him? What if the guy followed him home? Captured him and killed him just like that man on the ground? What if he got murdered on his birthday? He patted the keys that were in his pocket, slipping his fingers around them because he knew it would be his luck that once he took them out, he’d drop them.

He ran out the doors, one of the bouncers telling him to drive home safely, and as he made his way to the back parking lot, he kept an ear out to hear any footsteps after him and there weren’t any yet. That only encouraged him to run faster, a headache thumping against his skull with each hit that his feet made to the cement. He spotted his car and took his keys out, clicking the unlock button a million times for his car lights to flash and tell him that it was open over and over and over again.

He got to the driver’s side and barely got the door closed before turning the car on. He reversed out of the spot too quickly and hit a gross looking van behind him, but that van was the least of his problems at the moment. He saw in the passenger side rearview mirror that the man was approaching the lot and all he could think was fuck, fuck, fuck. He put the car in drive and floored the gas pedal, praying, just praying, that some drunk newlyweds wouldn’t pop out of nowhere and have him hit them. That would be the most of his problems then.

He got to the way out and looked both ways before pulling onto the road. He almost regretted taking responsible measures because as soon as he pressed the brakes to pause for any traffic, a bullet went in one back seat window and through the other. His heart pounded in his ears again, his palms sweaty as he held the steering wheel firmer and sped off in the direction of his condominium. If the man were to follow him home, he didn’t know what he would do except drive aimlessly. If the man didn’t, he would fine. Hopefully.

When Cody got to the final stoplights before his street, he sighed of relief that no vehicle of any kind stalked him on the way. He kept a good lookout and practically drove with his eyes glued to his backside mirror. There wasn’t too much traffic on the roads and none currently behind him. He finished the drive and pulled into the driveway, parking in the garage and shutting the door immediately in any off chance of the guy recognizing his car somehow.

He glanced at the broken windows and damaged rear bumper for about two seconds before he was bending over and heaving up acid. He ran a hand through his hair and coughed in discomfort. He was a fish out of water and he wanted to pig out on more cake just so he could have something to vomit, anything. He made his way inside, concluding that he’d fix and clean everything up the next morning.

Still paranoid, he kept all the lights off and double checked that all windows and doors were locked, window shades shut and down, and cell phone on silent. He had a few texts asking where he was, how trashed he was, see any hot guys yet, topics of the like and he replied back to each of them all the same. “Got sick. Left.”

He fell on his bed and sighed loudly, his head spinning behind his eyelids, stomach growling to be fed, hands tingling, and ears sounding like waves crashing on rocks. Sleep rushed over him quickly but it didn’t last long when he was shaken awake. He jolted in shock and fear of the chasing man finding him, sitting up and gasping when he saw four men standing around his room. One was in a police uniform while the others wore nice black suits, exactly like the guys from the bathroom. Panic started to run through him. “What...What are you-”

“I’m Detective Spencer Smith, C.I.A.,” he swiftly grabbed a wallet from the back of his pocket and showed a badge to prove he was from the government, “and we have reason enough to believe that you are in great danger for your life.”

A/N: i just did the banner cuz i was bored and had a vision~ ^.^ continue, y/n? im iffy, so.

pikshur

2008-07-17T04:19:12Z

^im original =|^^

Who's A Crazy Bitch?

2008-07-16T03:10:25Z

Title: Who's A Crazy Bitch?
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ryan listens to a bad song in hopes of writing a good one.
Disclaimer: it could've happened, but i can't prove it.
Note: short thing i wrote one night while listening to "crazy bitch" by buckcherry...meh. also, upcoming standalone "info" at the end ^.^

Ryan ran a hand through his hair, staring down at his brand new, clean, perfect notebook that had CatDog on the cover. New album, new notebook, old writer's block. Not everything can change unfortunately. His earbuds blared the same song that he's been listening to since he finished brushing his teeth that morning. His iPod was lying next to his right knee as he continued looking at the blank page in front of him. It was so pretty, he didn't want to mess it up.

He wrote that down quickly, biting his lip. "So pretty, don't wanna mess you up. I'm lame for thinking this is anything." He dropped the pen before he started on a huge diary entry that this notebook wasn't meant to be used for.

He wondered if it was his choice of song that was messing him up. But it couldn't be because the lyrics were all about sex (because he's never done that before) and the music was one of those that if you took the lyrics out, it could be used as an intro to some big budget movie following the high school slut walking from her red convertible and inside the school doors.

He wondered if it was his choice of location that was also messing him up. He was at Brendon's house with the smell of the singer all around him and that itself was distracting. He was sitting on the kitchen floor that he cleaned last night out of compulsiveness. The smell of lemon and Brendon mixed was even worse. His nose randomly twitched and it was really starting to get him mad, especially with the paper watching him.

He looked up from his notebook to see Brendon walk into the room, glancing at Ryan and smiling a little, opening the fridge. Ryan's eyes went right to Brendon's butt as he bent down to grab a soda from the little fruit bin at the bottom. He slowly licked his lips when Brendon stood up, his eyes quickly going back to his notebook.

Naughty thoughts about Brendon weren't helping either.

Maybe he should go to his house. No distractions or interruptions possible because his mother ignored him. Being in his early 20's, it's fine to crash at his parent's house occasionally, but spending so much time there when he had his own apartment in the city wasn't too acceptable to his parents.

But the thing was...at his apartment was everything he didn't want. Adulthood, independence, bills, phone calls.

Brendon sat next to Ryan, looking down at the two sentences that were written and nudging him lightly while pulling an earbud out. "Whatcha listening to?" He put the piece in his ear, smiling wide and letting out a laugh. "Really, why?"

Ryan shrugged, turning the volume down as they both kept listening. "Figured if I listened to bad lyrics, I could form good ones."

Brendon slowly shook his head. "I think doing that would result in the exact opposite." He nodded down at the notebook. "For example. That."

Ryan creased his eyebrows in confusion. "So...you don't like that?"

"Ryan. Almost everything you write says that. Just in a different way. Write that different way." Brendon lifted up the iPod and shook his head, reading the song title just amusing him to no end. "Why? Just...why?"

Ryan leaned over and kissed Brendon lightly, smiling when both lips parted open and tongues moved over each other. He pushed the music player out of the way and pulled both earbuds out, scooting onto Brendon's lap to kiss harder. "It made me a little horny when I thought of us fucking."

Brendon grinned and shook his head again, licking his lips quickly before Ryan kissed his neck, a gasp escaping him. "You're my crazy bitch."

Ryan bit hard, a moan filling his ear as he giggled. "I thought you were the bitch."

COMING SOON:

Going With The Flow

2008-07-14T04:10:51Z

Title: Going With The Flow
Pairing: Ryan/Pete, Ryan/Brendon
Chapter Rating: R
Summary: Pete's the puppetmaster of Panic at the Disco and Ryan's his bitch.
Disclaimer: we all know this [probably] didnt happen.

Pete Wentz flew out from Chicago to Los Angeles, making a pit stop in Las Vegas for a meeting with a band he'd been in contact with lately called Genie's Dream. The lead guitarist and drummer, Ryan Ross and Spencer Smith, picked him up at the airport and sped to Spencer's house. Pete was on a time schedule and things needed to be done fast.

Brent Wilson, the bassist, and Brendon Urie, singer, were all ready by the time the three boys ran down the stairs. Ryan and Spencer got set up and they played two songs out of the four they had written, one after another to leave no time for discussion.

Pete gave a few words of advice and promises before asking Ryan if he could have a word in private. The rest of the band went upstairs while Pete put a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "I'll be honest with you, man." Ryan gulped. "You guys...you aren't amazing. But you're young, fresh, and it's what people look for." Pete grabbed Ryan's hat and threw it to the ground, running his hand through Ryan's long hair. "I know stylists out here. You're all going to get your hair done, a brand new wardrobe because...this isn't working," he said, looking Ryan up and down.

"W...Wait," Ryan stuttered out, looking at Pete in confusion. "You're going to change us...in order to sign us?"

Pete smiled and nodded. "You have potential, Ryan, and so does this band, but every band has potential. I'm going to make you guys so unique that no one will bother with anyone else. And lose your stupid band name."

Ryan trusted Pete and persuaded everyone else to just go along with it. They all agreed. Pete flew back to Las Vegas and picked the band up from Spencer's house with a limo complimentary of Planet Hollywood about a month later. He made a point to make sure Ryan sat next to him and started talking his ear off, but Ryan didn't mind and listened intently.

The first stop was a hairdresser. All four were pushed into chairs and got to work, Pete telling them ahead of time what he expected. However, Brent didn't like it and refused, standing up to wait in the lobby. Pete narrowed his eyes a little and walked over to Ryan, who had highlight foils in his hair, whispering in his ear, "Brent's going to be a problem."

After everyone's hair was done and Pete made a few texts to a couple friends back in Chicago, they went to a high fashion shop that sold antique clothing that was modernized. Ryan made a beeline to the back racks that were marked clearance as everyone else tried to pick the most expensive items they could find.

Ryan's face broke into a grin as he found the most beautiful garment his eyes have ever laid eyes on. The now famous rosevest. It was only $13.99 and he wanted to marry it. Pete strolled over, gave it the okay while shoving a few pairs of thin pants in Ryan's arms before going back to persuade Brendon into wanting a ruffled white long sleeve.

After Pete bought them bags among bags of clothes, he took them to a specialty makeup store. He suggested everyone get at least two eyeliner pencils before grabbing Ryan's elbow and dragging him to the eyeshadows. "I have a vision for you."

They get signed under the name Panic! at the Disco, recorded, and everything takes off. Pete flies out a man named Jon Walker, courtesy of Mike Carden, to Los Angeles and has him play bass. Pete calls Brent, says he's out, calls the band, tells them Brent quit and they found a replacement. As he's making these calls, he's in a cab with Jon to get his hair cut and clothes picked out. He comments that Jon won't need makeup because he's naturally beautiful unlike everyone else.

Pete takes Ryan everywhere, displaying him like a custom designed Christian Dior purse. He holds Ryan by the waist, makes sure their smiles are close to the same size, even though Ryan’s is always noticeably more shy. Pete does the talking, Ryan pitches in and nods his head. He sometimes feels Pete’s hand slide up the back of his shirt a little, in which he glances at Pete who’s already smirking at him.

Pete goes to Ryan's house the night before their first big tour and teaches him how to do weird designs with liquid eyeliner, mascara, and eyeshadow. "No matter what anyone tells you, Ryan, there always has to be eyecandy in every band. There are no bands out there that don't have one sexy person."

"Who's the pretty person in your band?" he asks stupidly, staying still as Pete swipes the liquid eyeliner across his cheek.

Pete doesn't take offense, though, and chuckles. "Patrick wasn't going to wear the skinny jeans and eyeliner, was he?" Ryan blushes a little as the liner sinks into his skin. "Girls will love you and with the lyrics that I set you guys up with, it'll be like you were a piece of hot meat from the beginning."

Ryan frowns at this. "Jac thinks I was."

"Jac is a stupid whore that should take Audrey's lead," Pete snaps, recapping the eyeliner and grabbing some foundation. "No offense, but she's a bimbo."

Ryan creased his eyebrows for a split second before Pete massaged his forehead and told him to remember the disadvantages of wrinkles. "You wanted me with her."

"For now," he says as an after thought, patting the makeup over Ryan's jaw and temple. "Things will change, Ryan, and you just have to go with the flow. Just have to go with me."

"You promised that the next album, I can write it myself, right?" Ryan cautiously asked, Pete stopping his movements to stare at him. "You...You said after the big bang...we could do it our way."

Pete smirked and laughed quietly. "Right."

Once Ryan’s asleep next to him, Pete tiptoes out and grabs the landline phone. He dials Jac’s saved number and waits for an answer. Once it comes, he does his best Ryan impression. “Baby, it’s me.”

She giggles. “I know it’s you sweetie. Shouldn’t you be in bed? Big day tomorrow.”

“I think we should break up,” he bluntly gets out. “Things are taking off and-”

“Did you fucking steal Brendon’s speech, you cunthead?!” she screams into the phone, Pete rolling his eyes before hanging up.

He tells Ryan the next morning that he called Jac for a favor and she was getting fucked by some dude. Ryan cries and Pete smiles.

Pete was at their first show in the dressing room, pumping them up with encouraging words. He smiled around the room before walking to the doorway and calling Brendon out. He shut the door and played with Brendon's hair lightly. "You need to flirt with Ryan."

Brendon snorted. "Yeah. Right."

Pete growled lowly, which caused Brendon to straighten up and jump a little when his shoulder was grabbed harshly. "Touch him, kiss him, lick him, fuck him for all I care."

"Pete-"

"Do it," he snarled, opening the door with a smile as Brendon walked back in, terrified.

Once the band finished their performance, Pete grabbed Ryan instantly and marched through the back halls to the exit door. He slammed it open and pushed Ryan outside. "What the fuck was that?!" he screamed, Ryan shivering from the cold and sweat.

"What was what?" he quietly asked as he rubbed his arms.

"You! Being a fucking lanky nerd with zero confidence!" Pete could just slap Ryan, then kick him to the ground, then slap him some more at this point. "You get dolled up to fucking become fucking amazing and you just stand there like a statue-an ugly statue!"

Ryan's eyes welled up in tears, chin lowered as he tried to recall what he did wrong. He had a hard enough time trying to get all the notes of his guitar correct let alone hyping up the crowd and responding to Brendon's strange behavior towards him. Why would Jac do that to him? His mind was racing with everything. "I'm sorry," he whispered, a few tears skipping down his makeup covered face.

"You need an onstage personality and an offstage personality. Offstage, be the fucking loser you are, I don't give a damn. But while you're performing, you have to be the biggest ego in the world." Ryan nodded and coughed, touching his face carefully to not ruin his makeup too much and still catch the tears.

Pete smirked to himself when he caught a show in the middle of the tour in Texas, Ryan having his face forward while singing in the microphone, reacting to Brendon's advances by teasing, doing small movements that made every girl's heart flutter and Pete's. He was so proud.

When they walked off stage, he was even more proud to see Ryan wasn't a loser anymore but instead took his ego energy from the stage to off. "Good show, you guys. I'm impressed."

Ryan smiled at Pete, then looked at Brendon when he grabbed his hand. "Brendon did particularly well."

The singer shrugged and put his head on Ryan's shoulder. "I try."

Pete looked between the two and considered booting Brendon out of the band.

The tour was over and Brendon moved in with Ryan in his one-bedroom, one bed apartment. It wasn't a big deal so they didn't bother to tell Pete, who of course found out anyway.

Brendon was still sleeping when Pete came by at noon, Ryan fixing them chocolate milkshakes in the kitchen. He poured the drink in two glasses and sat next to Pete on the couch. "So. You and Brendon."

Ryan smiled and nodded. "He's so wonderful. With, like, everything, you know? Not flaunting it and...it's nice."

Pete clicked his tongue. "Whatever. You have the new songs all complete, right?"

"Yeah, just need to record now," the guitarist confirmed, taking a long gulp from his shake as Pete watched with extreme interest.

"No. Shred it. You guys are going to Connecticut." Ryan was about to protest when Pete cut him off. "The circus thing was fun, but you guys are over it. Be more serious, less kid-ish."

Ryan looked down at his lap. "Took me forever to adapt-"

"Get the fuck over it," Pete soothingly said, dipping his finger in the shake and holding it to Ryan’s lips.

Ryan’s eyes darted to Pete before opening his mouth and sucking the shake off. As soon as he did that, it hit him like a ton of bricks. He was officially Pete’s bitch. Of course, everyone in the entire universe had to realize this before him and it only hurt that much more.

The band went to the east shore and stayed locked up in a cabin until they had material appropriate for Pete. He said he wanted raw, hurt, and oldies. It was a challenge for all of them, but they accepted it willingly.

Before the band headed out for promotion, Pete trashed their old wardrobe and gave them all a more hippie style fashion and redid their hair. They didn’t argue and went with it. He also told them to stop looking like they were 12-year old girls and to grow facial hair.

He told Brendon and Ryan to shave almost instantly after saying so.

Pete found Ryan a new girlfriend named Keltie (“the chicks will love you more because you aren’t obtainable.”) and Brendon moved with a new roommate named Shane, demanding they stop their relationship before they fuck up all their hard work. Their, as in the band’s and Pete’s.

With the new record finished, Pete parades Ryan around once more, except this time Keltie and Brendon are in tow. The more is not the merrier, he once told Ryan, but apparently that went unnoticed.

Keltie hangs off Ryan’s arm, Ryan stares at her dreamily because she really was a nice catch, Brendon just frowns sadly, and Pete is proud of himself.

However, just because Ryan has a girlfriend doesn’t mean the teasing can end. Oh, no. Brendon still does whatever in his power to make Ryan squirm and Pete always touches him too tenderly, too softly.

Ryan just pulls Keltie closer.

Their second tour for their second CD starts and not even halfway has Ryan breaking down on the phone with Keltie.

He spills out words of love and regret and he can’t do it anymore. She starts crying, saying she’s trying to understand but can’t. He says it’s too hard, everything is too hard and set in stone. She apologizes quietly and hangs up.

Brendon, listening from his top bunk, slides down to Ryan’s and holds him all night.

Pete cancels everything for the day to fly out to Arizona to scream in Ryan’s face. How he isn’t doing what he’s suppose to, how he’s just messing everything up, how he isn’t thinking about the band and just thinking about himself. “I can personally cause your downfall, Ryan, and I will be more than happy to do it if you keep this up.”

Ryan’s body shakes and he glides to the floor, pulling at his hair. “Won’t they like if I’m with Brendon?”

“No, they won’t. They think they will, but they won’t because then they won’t have a chance to be with you because you’re gay.” Pete sits next to Ryan and puts an arm around the back of his neck. “I know this is all fast, but you have to keep on flowing with me.”

The tour ends and Ryan moves in with Pete in Los Angeles. He can’t take the familiar sights of Las Vegas and Brendon anymore. Spencer’s just a zombie with Jon there to restart him when he overheats like a computer.

Ryan wants Brendon to move out to California, too, but Pete says that if he wants Brendon so much to just go back. He doesn’t want to go back. He keeps sadly texting Brendon as he gets ready for bed every night and calls him as he crawls under the covers.

“I love you, Bren,” he’d always whisper.

“I love you, Ry,” would be whispered back.

For the third album, Ryan begs the band to just move to Los Angeles because everything is there anyway and Pete pretends that he doesn’t care. He changes the band’s style to a stereotypical emo look. Messed up hair, tight pants, shaved faces because that wasn’t a good idea in the first place, and eyeliner and eyeliner only.

He brings back Ryan’s fauxhawk without the huge dramatic poof and he nearly wants to jump Ryan at how he looks all finished off.

The third album is finished without any help from Pete whatsoever and he doesn’t completely hate it. He thinks that if he was there it could have been better, but he deals and just suggests he’d be there next time.

There is no next time when Spencer slams his fists on the table and glares at Pete before addressing Ryan. “Maybe you can live this lie, but I can’t anymore.” He walks out of the restaurant, Jon sighing quietly and going after him.

No one hears from the two in four months and the band is officially done, the third CD never getting a chance to be sold.

Pete keeps Ryan around in his house before getting sick of him always being there and kicks him out after a year. It’s a huge shock, so Ryan just stands in his bedroom before getting the motivation to start packing.

Pete shows up when everything is in boxes and chuckles. “Where are you gonna go?”

Ryan shrugs. “Brendon’s.”

“Brendon’s with Shane now. You can’t just stampede in there like you’re someone important now. You aren’t.” Ryan sniffs and wipes below his eyes. “You’re a has-been rockstar that’s going to be on some VH1 reality show within the next few years.”

Ryan shook his head. “Why are you doing this? I did nothing wrong.”

“Things change, Ryan, and you just have to go with the flow,” he answered, crossing his arms.

“Just not with you,” he finished, turning to the side to lightly kick one of the boxes. “It all ended so fast.”

Pete walked up to him and lifted his chin, pressing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And you have to recover just as fast. Everyone else has.” Ryan nodded as Pete rubbed his pointer finger over his cheek. “The thing about music is that it never goes away. Bands disappear, but their music stays. What you accomplished will stay forever. What you wanted will stay forever.”

“Did I do anything wrong?” he flatly asked, wanting to be informed whether he should hide in a closet in sorrow or just slowly pick his life back up.

Pete bit his lip lightly. “You did everything I asked of you. The others just didn’t want to anymore.”

Ryan coughed quietly and bent down to pick up the box. He pushed passed Pete and made his way down to his driveway.

Exactly two months after Ryan found his own place in downtown Las Vegas, Pete knocked at his door. Ryan came to the conclusion at that point that Pete would somehow never leave his life, no matter how much either might want it to happen.

Ryan barely got out a greeting before Pete was kissing his neck and pushing him down the small hall to the bedroom. When Pete shoved Ryan on the bed, their breathing was hard and they stared at each other for a few seconds. "You aren't as beautiful as when I made you," Pete harshly remarked before biting on Ryan's neck and earning a moan.

The next morning, Pete wasn't there. No one was there for him any more. He was given girlfriends and he couldn't even hold onto those because Pete fucked him up. He thinks up about a thousand "what if"s and suddenly sinks deeper into his depression. He didn't want to be on VH1. That would be so embarrassing and kill whatever dignity he had left, which was running extremely low.

Brendon gives some pills to Ryan, saying that they'll help him recuperate and pick himself up. It’s probably the biggest mistake anyone could have made.

Pete calls Ryan an hour after Brendon leaves Ryan’s apartment. “Reunion tour” were the first words out of the man’s mouth as Ryan continued to fiddle with the bottle he was given. “Spencer and Jon have to be over themselves by now.”

“I’m not,” Ryan whispers sadly, trying to open the child-proof and apparently adult-proof cap. “Fuck.”

“You giving yourself a handjob?” Pete chuckles. “I’ve been fucked by so many guys in the past week and I don’t know where my brain ran off to.”

Ryan puts the phone down and concludes that the man he once loved and adored was just making it a life mission to piss him off. He practically rips the cap off finally, ignoring the louder voice coming from next to him. He goes to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water before sitting back down. “Sorry,” he mumbles into the phone.

“Why do I bother with you anymore, Ryan. Did you ever care about anything I did for you? You were everything, you know, you had everything, you had me-”

“Sweetie, you had me,” Ryan sang sadly, laughing at how ridiculous everything now seemed in his head. “Oh, Pete, I could murder you with a pencil right now.”

“I double dog dare you to,” he pretty much begged.

“You said I did nothing wrong.” He poured two pills into his palm and lied the bottle down before throwing the water’s cap to the ground. “Why are you putting everything on me and not Spencer?”

“If you do this reunion tour, then you’ll get everything back. And I mean it. Everything.”

Ryan perceives it the first time and he couldn’t handle it anymore. Couldn’t handle Pete anymore. He put the phone down again and swigged a little water in his mouth before the pills, tilting his head back to make it easier to swallow. He flipped his cell phone shut when he began to hear Pete’s voice clearly instead of muffled.

He takes two more for Pete’s stress...then another two for good measure...then he began to feel sick.

He wobbles to his room, dizzy, and trips onto the floor. He stays there, curls up, and falls asleep with his mouth hanging open because he feels nauseous and the barf is going to be coming up any second now.

But it doesn’t and the pills spread all through him.

It was the best sleep he’d ever had since he ever met Pete and he still wondered what he did wrong.

A/N: i dont think i like how this turned out. like, i know what i want to be said, but i had a hard time getting it down. Dx

"Ryan" and "Brendon" are both two syllables

2008-07-14T04:00:04Z

Title: "Ryan" and "Brendon" are both two syllables
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Word Count: 448
Chapter Rating: PG
Summary: Brendon explains how he knew that Ryan was the one.
Disclaimer: i have no proof, so it's not real.

Brendon and Ryan are lying in bed, arms around each other and kissing every so often. Most of the afternoon was spent staring at each other, smiling, attempting to snuggle closer, and satisfied sighs. It was a warm afternoon, the comforter and body heat adding to the weather the open windows of their bedroom let in. Both were starting to sweat across their hairlines and every so often one would swiftly wipe it away from the person next to them. Neither dared to move, kick the comforter off, take their shirts off, or turn the air conditioning on. They were perfectly fine with how they were.

“Wanna know how I knew that you were the one?” Brendon whispered, kissing Ryan lightly and igniting one of the very, very few conversations of the day.

When they kissed, it was never long and they kept their eyes open just to stare into the other one’s that much deeper. It wasn’t often that they could relax with no planned interruptions. Since Ryan turned off both of their cell phones and unplugged the land line phones all over the house, they prayed for no unplanned distractions.

“Mmm, how?” Ryan asked quietly as he rubbed his nose on the side of Brendon’s cheek near his temple.

Brendon’s hands gripped the back of Ryan’s shirt a little tighter before releasing back to its gentle hold. “Our names have the same syllables. Like, the ones that we are referred to by.”

Ryan smiled softly and let out a deep chuckle, nodding his head. “Ry-an and Bren-don. They kind of rhyme, too, don’t they?”

“Yes. Which proves my point even further.”

Brendon kissed Ryan’s cheek and poked his tongue against the skin quickly, causing Ryan to giggle and duck his head. “Know what else has the same amount of syllables?”

“Hmm?”

“Ry-an Ross and Jon Walk-er and Spen-cer Smith.” Brendon blinked at a smirking Ryan. “Brendon Ur...ie.”

“W-Well...like, Jon is actually Jonathon-”

“You said referred to names. Pete-r Wentz.”

Brendon creased his eyebrows and dragged his hands to the front of Ryan’s body. “No one calls him Peter.”

“I know,” Ryan said in a cheery voice. “I just wanted to tick you off.”

Brendon rolled his eyes, sliding his hands up Ryan’s shirt and rubbing his stomach soothingly. He grinned when Ryan’s eyes slipped shut and any tension that he was holding was let go. “Wanna know how else I knew that you were the one?” he asked again.

“How?”

Brendon brought a hand to Ryan’s cheek and stroked it slowly, causing the older man’s eyes to open with curiosity. “I love you more than any person with the same amount of syllables as your name.”

Andy Warhol's Got Nothin' On Me

2008-07-12T00:30:13Z

Title: Andy Warhol's Got Nothin' On Me
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, Ryan/Pete
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Summary: The 60's were an opportunity to fuck up and not be frowned upon because of it. Why? Everyone else was fucking up, too. Everyone in the entire country did it for all of the wrong reasons, including myself on some instances. Except for Ryan Ross.
Disclaimer: inspired from the prologue of "please kill me." otherwise, not true, not real, all those other "nots."

The 60's were an opportunity to fuck up and not be frowned upon because of it. Why? Everyone else was fucking up, too. Hypocrites were frowned upon, however, so no one really said anything to anyone. Especially parents, since they were doing the same mistakes, too. By the time the 70's came, things slowed down. All the hardcores were getting broke, arrested, dead, tired, annoyed. The nine year olds that were now nineteen saw their parents fuck up, swore to never be like them, and became exactly like them. The parents still said nothing because hypocrites were frowned upon. Except those nineteen year olds because it was hip. Those nineteen year olds weren't hypocrites, for some reason.

The transition of decades was difficult for some. Take my friend, Ryan Ross. He came into the game early, a lot earlier than everyone else, and he loved it from the start. Every single day, he was dancing. Every single week, he was bliss. Every single month, he was happy. Every single year, he was in thankful. He loved it, cherished it in a way no one else could possibly understand. He didn't start it just to be hip like those nineteen year olds, no. He didn't start it to gain a hundred close friends. He started it for himself, which is more than anyone else could say.

I started it to be hip. I started it to gain friends. I started it because everyone else started it. I started it for the reasons Ryan didn't. If you didn't drive, you were lame. If you didn't eat breakfast, you were lame. If you didn't do drugs, you were lame.

Everyone in the entire country did it for all of the wrong reasons, including myself on some instances. Except for Ryan Ross.

I met Ryan through a friend, a friend I met through drugs. This friend, named Pete, took me to a concert, and not a tiny club concert. An arena concert The Beatles once played at. I couldn't go because I blew my ticket money on a new, gold plated bong so I could attract more friends. I don't remember the band name, but they weren't terrible at performing. Ryan was dancing to the music, but not maniac dancing like some others. He was simply swaying his body, his arm extended once in a while his other, that held a joint, rubbed across his forehead to remove sweat. He appeared alone, but after we properly met, it turned out he pretty much knew the name of everybody in a twenty foot radius.

That's how it worked, too. You were in a large group, but always alone. No exceptions.

Ryan and Pete hugged after we shook hands and started to dance with each other, singing loudly with grins on their faces. When the stage lights went extremely bright on the crowd and Ryan raised his arms, I saw how damaged they were. His wrists were scabbed, his palms were cut, his arms had holes up and down, criss and cross, this and that, and I got scared. I didn't want to be that ugly. I looked back at Ryan's face and he wasn't ugly like his arms. His face showed a new story, a different story than his arms did. He wasn't half lidded like everyone else. He wasn't on cruise control like everyone else. He wasn't as drugged up as everyone else. His sole purpose was to reach one little pleasure point and stay there. Take another line? No thank you. He didn't need it.

Ryan put his hands on Pete's face and kissed him lightly for a few seconds, their eyes open, before pulling back and looking at me. He smiled softly and held out a hand to me. A cut up hand. If I touched that hand, my own would get diseased and I'd die. All because of his hand. I took it and remained clean, alive, and not cut up. He pulled me in between himself and Pete and put his small joint in between my lips. "Dance with us, Brendon."

And we danced. I'm not sure what it was that I smoked, but it definitely wasn't crack or grass. It was so much sweeter, saltier, sourer, spicier, chocolatier, yogurtier, carrotier, amazing. His long fingers that also had holes went to take the rolled up substance from me, but I slapped his hand away. He chuckled and took another out from his pocket anyway, but as soon as he lit it, he gave it to Pete. He didn't need another one because he was at the perfect pleasure point. His goal was to do the same for Pete and myself now.

My mouth released the finished paper and let it fall to the ground. Everything seemed so much different than when I stepped in, high off of my cheap speed. It was louder, but quieter. It was more colorful, but duller. Faster, but slower. Closer, but farther away. Pete and Ryan were the same, though. Against me and dancing and singing.

"You know, Bren," Ryan said during a break between songs and the lead singer was rambling about how the last city they went to wasn't as awesome or something, "I think I can get to like you very much."

I tried to process a reply, but I couldn't, so I stared at his non-ugly face instead. He looked passed me, licked his lips, and leaned over my shoulder to kiss Pete again. When they pulled away, Ryan smirked at me and slowly blew thick smoke into my face. The thick smoke that was once in Pete's mouth, but went into Ryan's and now was in my face.

Ryan was entrancing and I couldn't believe Pete actually introduced me to him. If I were in Pete's shoes, I'd keep Ryan a secret so he could be mine forever. Maybe that could happen still.

The concert ended, but that didn't stop Ryan's close friends of about a hundred from dancing. As most of the arena piled out of the small, few exit doors, it seemed that Ryan's clan already knew they weren't supposed to be leaving quite yet. They all danced to the songs that they liked the most that were performed just earlier, humming to themselves and not realizing the contrast of tunes with the person they were dancing with. Two different harmonies and tempos, yet the same dancing.

"Gonna get 'er up, babyyy," Ryan sang quietly under his breath. I was sort of pushed to the side during the last song with one of Ryan's arm around the back of my neck as he and Pete were pretty much chest-to-chest. "Gonna round 'em up, babyyy."

It seemed that other smaller cliques were doing the same as we were right now and then I began to wonder. Was I part of this group now? I know a lot of the time that once you're exposed to one, you're pretty much in due to the recommendation of someone else. I'm not sure if Pete suggested per say or not, but he did invite me to come and took me to the group’s leader right away. I’d be in good shape, right?

Eventually after a while, security came up and asked everyone politely to leave. No one put up an argument, to my surprise, and instead waved cheerily, yelled good night, stumbled away giggling, hung off of each other for support, and cheered loudly about how it was such an incredible night. It really was.

Ryan and Pete didn’t wave, yell, stumble, or cheer, so I didn’t either. They hung off each other and myself, yes, but we were otherwise quiet. We followed near the rear of the group to the chilly air outside. All these people patted Ryan on the shoulder, hugged him somehow around me and Pete, talked to him about plans for later on in the week, and Ryan smiled the whole time. He was the center of attention and he loved it. Who wouldn’t love a hundred people loving you? You’d have to be stupid.

People disappeared and we stayed by the exit doors of the venue. A few people hung around us, maybe a dozen to fifteen, and eyed Ryan. He noticed them right away, but didn’t do anything. They were part of his inner circle, an inner circle that was probably the most difficult to get into. One that took sacrifice of many kinds just for him. Just to be accepted to the extreme by him. The thing was that no one but the inner circle knew who was in the inner circle. At the time, I was a bystander and thought we were going to get gangbanged or jumped. I laughed about it later on.

Ryan started walking and everyone followed. He didn’t let me go, so I kept my mouth shut and went along with it. “What do you do, Brendon?” he asked, resting his head on Pete’s shoulder but keeping his eyes on me.

“I just dropped out of my freshman year of college and work at the Citgo on the corner of-”

Ryan giggled and Pete full out laughed, letting Ryan go to bend over. Ryan staggered a bit, but regained himself with a smile and shook his head. “My dear, my dear.” He called no one else "my dear" ever but me. “What do you do?”

I creased my eyebrows, thought for two seconds, and wanted to kill myself out of embarrassment. I was with Ryan Ross here, so what else would he want to know about me first off besides what drugs I do? I felt like such a moron, but on the brighter side, he didn’t kick me away yet. “Weed and coke.”

He blinked at me and shrugged Pete’s arm away when it wrapped around his shoulders. He grabbed my hand and brought it to his face, my fingertips brushing over his smooth cheeks. I wondered how he managed to keep it so flawless because smoke clogged pores and needles liked thin skin. Some drugs liked to pick on you so you picked at yourself. “Do you like weed and coke?”

I gulped because it was the most obvious trick question and I couldn’t figure out the trick part of it. “I like how it makes me feel,” I answered before I could think too far into it. If I did, I could end up sounding like an idiot again.

But because of my little response, Ryan looked at me completely different than he did everyone else from that second on. I was an equal to him all due to my instinct answer that wasn't only a tad of a lie because, really, I had other reasons in the beginning. He ran a hand through my hair and slowed down our pace, letting Pete and everyone else walk passed us so we could be alone for a little bit. “You like how it makes you feel? Really?”

I grinned and nodded. “I feel...free. Free of everything.” I took a step away from him, let his hand go, and wiggled my hips. “No one else matters except me. They can laugh, make fun, copy, I don’t care. I forget for a few hours, a few days, and it’s miraculous.”

“Miraculous. Yes.” Ryan nodded and walked just a little bit faster. I slowly processed Ryan was ahead of me a ways and ran to catch up, linking our arms together. “I like how it makes me feel, too.”

We walked in silence, making our way to the front of everyone again. Pete was talking to a man named William and it turns out that Ryan looks at him like he’s equal, too, but never Pete. No, William and Ryan weren’t on the same level as Pete. No one would say they were higher, but it was the truth. If you were on Ryan’s level, then you were more important. Somehow, Pete was an exception but he still wasn’t the same. Close, but never quite.

“So, Brendon.” We all stopped outside an apartment building, a few people lighting up cigarettes and what appeared to be cigarettes. But not Ryan because he didn’t need to. “What’re you doing for the rest of your life?”

This was a more important invite than Pete’s. This could either be the biggest or best mistake of my life. It would turn out to be both, but isn’t that how everything in the world works.

I didn’t answer him verbally, but my face must’ve answered for him because when my head nodded, he didn’t seem at all surprised.

“Also...” His nose poked the top of my ear and he whispered against my cheek, “do you believe in love at first sight?”

A few people snickered around us, eye rolls boomed behind my head, and my heart sped up. Was he shitting with me? I didn’t know him at all, but these people did and they took it as a joke. Right now wasn’t about them, though. It was about Ryan and I. “I might now.”

Ryan’s face glowed and all the eye rollers and snickering bastards froze up because they’ve never seen him like this. Not towards William, Pete, or the inner circle. Just some kid that came out of Pete’s ass. “My dear, I might now, too.”

Ryan Ross and myself did drugs for ourselves, we had that in common already. Nothing could take that away from him, meaning I had to hold onto my end that much tighter. Everyone wanted Ryan, but I got him without trying.

Institute of The L.O.V.E. [2/4]

2008-07-11T04:46:47Z

Title: Institute of The L.O.V.E. [2/4]
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Chapter Rating: PG
Summary: Ryan is blind, Brendon is deaf, and they're now roommates with each other in the institute of The L.O.V.E., Listening Or Visual Efforts.
Disclaimer: all of this is fiction coming out of my head. everything. i dont know statistics, but i chose to write my story this way, so if it bothers you that it could be terribly inaccurate, either read passed it or dont read at all.

The next morning at breakfast in the dining fall, Ryan let Brendon lead the way to a table as Spencer and Dr. Walker walked around the perimeter of the room, smiling when Brendon helped Ryan sit down before doing so himself. They reached across the table at the same time and let their fingertips intertwine just as a kitchen help came over and asked what they wanted to eat.

Ryan tapped Brendon's hand to let him order first. Brendon gestured that he wanted French toast and chocolate milk before looking at Ryan. The aide asked Ryan next and he said frosted flakes with skim milk.

When she left, Brendon sighed quite loudly and Ryan got the impression he must've did something wrong. He wasn't sure what, since they've only been awake an hour, but he didn't want his new roommate to hate him after one day. They sat in silence, Ryan scared to do anything, until the helper came back with Brendon's chocolate milk and asked Ryan if he wanted anything to drink. "No, thank you," he politely declined with a smile.

Brendon sipped the top of his glass, staring at Ryan worriedly. "Ooo ooh...keeeey?"

Ryan nodded, brushing his thumb over the top of Brendon's hand. He looked down at his lap as he began to get a severe headache. They happened occasionally and Ryan hated when they did. He got lightheaded and mildly dizzy, which wasn't comfortable for him at all. He rubbed his forehead as Spencer and Dr. Walker took the unoccupied seats between the two. He figured maybe he was thinking too hard about Brendon and what he could've done from the moment they woke up to the moment right now. He knew it wasn't the thinking itself but more the emotion and constant retracing.

Spencer rubbed Ryan's back and frowned, the sight in front of him a semi familiar one. "You feeling sick?"

Ryan shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "I want to lie down for a little longer, if that's okay."

"Of course it's okay," Spencer replied in a positive tone, but not letting his frown get taken off his face as he helped Ryan stand up. "Brendon, I'm going to take Ryan back to the room, okay?"

Brendon watched Spencer's hands and nodded, smiling weakly at Ryan and hoping he felt better later. Right before lunchtime, their wing was going on a trip to the park for some fresh air then a fancy restaurant for a late lunch and Brendon was looking forward to hanging out with Ryan more then. Roommate bonding.

Dr. Walker stayed with Brendon, telling him Spencer would come back once Ryan was all settled.

"Can I have some aspirin?" Ryan asked with a groan, falling on his bed and kicking his shoes off to have them fall on the floor.

Spencer went into the bathroom and filled a small paper cup with cold water, pouring two pills into his palm from a box in the small cupboard. He went back, sitting Ryan up and putting the cup in one hand with the pills in the other. "Do you want me to wake you up for snack?" Ryan shook his head, taking both pills at the same time and chugging the water down. "How about before we leave, I give you a sandwich so you don't have an empty stomach? That sound good?"

Ryan coughed and handed the empty cup back, crawling under the covers and snuggling against them. "Please don't talk about food right now."

Spencer apologized, throwing the cup away before shutting the window shades. He took Ryan's sunglasses off his face and placed them on the bedside table. "Do you want some music on?"

Ryan smiled at this because music always made him feel better. "Yes, please."

Spencer turned the radio on, adjusting it to a lower volume than it was the last time it was used and wishing Ryan a good nap before closing the door behind him as he left.

Ryan hummed dully as he let the music flow through his ears. The instruments relaxed him and took any stress away from his body, which included his head as his headache began to lighten up a little bit.

He didn't let himself fall asleep but instead lie contently with his eyes shut, so he heard when the door opened quite a while later. He sat up a little at the noise, wondering if it was Spencer telling him to get up or Brendon coming back from breakfast. "Hi?"

The edge of his bed sank and he felt something get placed on his lap. "Foo'."

Ryan smiled, looking down at where he felt slight pressure on his thighs. He slowly brought his hand over it and his fingers touched a warm liquid mush. He sniffed a few times as the aroma made its way to his nose and his smile only widened. "Eggs and bacon," he said triumphantly, Brendon grabbing his hand to put a fork between his fingers. "Thank you," he spoke and signed.

Brendon didn't say anything back but instead scooted between Ryan and the wall. He watched Ryan eat on his own, fascinated how smooth it went along and wasn't a sloppy, all-over-the-place mess like some others he'd seen. His last roommate, who could see, was just as terrible.

The room was dim still, the window being covered but still having some of the sun's rays make their way through. Brendon went outside for two minutes with Dr. Walker before he came to the room and it was the near perfect day to go to the park. It was humid and more breeze was needed although the air was mostly comfortable. He wondered if Ryan preferred cold weather or hot.

Brendon put his head on Ryan's shoulder and shut his eyes, the only movements he felt being Ryan's chewing, swallowing, and hand moving to direct the fork where to go. He sighed loudly, always hoping he would be able to hear it and never getting the chance, snuggling closer to Ryan as he finished up eating. He felt a poke in his shoulder and he opened his eyes to see the plate completely empty except for a few little scraps of egg. "Duuuh?"

Ryan licked his lips, smacked them, and nodded, saying thank you again as Brendon nodded and took the plate from him, going out to put it right outside the door in the hall. Ryan felt Brendon move back to where he was sitting and lied down, opening his arms up so that Brendon could lie with him, which he did. He shut his eyes, their closeness sort of scaring him. He's cuddled with other people before, but for some reason, clothing or skin wasn't an issue. He felt he was connected with Brendon and it was a new experience for him. He wondered if Brendon's felt it before and if he was feeling it now, too.

Ryan listened to the radio as Brendon moved a hand to Ryan's upper arm and held it, the pair dozing off almost instantly. Ryan smiled to himself one second before he let himself go unconscious when he smelled Brendon's breath. It was syrup and chocolate milk.

Spencer didn't want to have to wake them, but knew he had to because it was his job. They didn't have to come and could go back to being cute, cuddly, asleep, and cute, yet they had to be woken up first. They didn't mind because Brendon jumped up when Spencer said it was almost time to leave and Ryan laughed, saying he felt a lot better.

There was a fairly large group going to the park, so Spencer put trust in Brendon to keep tabs on Ryan because other people needed his help more, same with Dr. Walker. Brendon clasped his hand around Ryan's and followed everyone from the middle of the group. The trip was supposed to be a time the blind patients wouldn't have to use their canes and instead feel free with nothing holding them back. Ryan was rather okay with Brendon holding him though.

Once they reached the park, which was only a couple blocks away from the giant clinic, everyone split up to wander around. To the playground, one of the two ponds, swing sets, tennis and basketball courts, or a hiking path. Ryan felt the excitement around him, which made him thrilled that he was on his own (sort of) without a nurse or doctor breathing down his neck. It happened once in a while when they made a journey, but Ryan almost every time had Spencer or this nurse that took over when he couldn't be there named Hayley. He didn't like Hayley all that much.

Brendon slowly led Ryan this way and that, taking a small walking trail that some of the others already went down, but not too many. He smiled when he saw the bigger of the two ponds in front of them, tugging on Ryan's hand gently. There were enormous trees lining the far half's border with families of ducks and geese underneath the shading and Brendon really wished Ryan could see it with him. "Paaah," he announced proudly, bouncing a little when he saw four small yellow ducklings wobble into the water and tread only so far as if there was an invisible line for them to not cross.

Ryan creased his eyebrows, not entirely sure what Brendon had said. "Par? Golf?" He linked his hands together and swung them in front of him as if he were holding a club.

Brendon snorted and shook his head. "Paaaaahhhnnnnuh."

Ryan shrugged, knowing he couldn't be possibly talking about a panda because he heard geese squeaking angrily somewhere close, as Brendon grabbed his hand again to resume walking. Brendon let his hand go for probably two seconds, which was the scariest two seconds of Ryan's day, to stand behind and put his hands on Ryan's hips instead. Ryan jumped slightly, but relaxed just as quickly when he realized he was okay now.

Brendon pushed down on Ryan's hips and they bent down to their knees together. He took one of Ryan's hands in his and very slowly brought it straight out in front of him before lowering it down to touch the top of the water. "Paaaaahhnnnnuh."

Ryan laughed to himself when Brendon pressed their hands deeper into the water. He didn't feel sand underneath his knees but grass, which he didn't understand because how could he be touching landwater and not be in sand? Eventually his fingers dug into sand as Brendon's went right along with them. "Wow," he whispered to himself and Brendon's hand that was keeping a hold of him, so he wouldn't fall in, squeezed him gently. "Who knew water could be so exhilarating."

Brendon couldn't hear, but he knew Ryan was enjoying it from the way his face was shaped in a joyful manner. He stood help, helping Ryan, and led back to the main area of the park towards the swing sets. As he approached them, he debated whether it would be a good idea to push Ryan on one or not. The bad outweighed the good, but one pro took him over; making Ryan feel incredible.

Brendon assisted Ryan in sitting down on one before taking his hands and putting them around the two chains tightly. He tapped the top of his hands to signify that he had to hold on. "Hoooolllll."

Ryan nodded, biting his lip and digging his feet into the sand. He knew he was on the swings from the feeling, the first nurse that ever took care of him named Alex used to push him when he was little. He heard Brendon move behind him and he constricted his hold on the chains under his palms. He was slowly pulled back, the tips of his toes touching the ground before being let go. The breeze flowed over his face and hair and if he wasn't free before, he sure was now.

Brendon kept pushing him, higher and higher, and Ryan wasn't sure how far he was really going, but it didn't matter because he was off of the ground, in the air, and flying. He giggled and kicked his legs whenever he felt himself going forward, bending his knees as he went backwards. Brendon could see the excitement from the older man and his body tingled in delight.

Brendon kept pushing Ryan for a few minutes, making sure to not to make him go too high so something bad couldn't happen. He saw that everyone was starting to regroup together and he frowned, not wanting to go and believing that this park trip was a lot shorter than the previous ones. Sure, they would go to eat lunch at some place now, but he didn't want to. He wanted to stay at the park with Ryan forever and just play with him on the swing.

Spencer jogged over to them and smiled, patting Brendon's shoulder before slowly grabbing the chains of Ryan's swing. He didn't want to put it to a sudden halt in fear of Ryan falling off, so he ran with it through the sand and heard Ryan squeak. "It's just me," Spencer said in a cheery voice, lining the swing up with the rest of the others as Ryan's feet planted on the ground. "Have fun?"

"We weren't here that long," Ryan whined, standing up with some help from Spencer and stumbling. His head was pounding very much like that morning now and he really didn't feel well. He put a hand on his forehead, feeling his body sway and Spencer's hand tighten on his arm. "I don't feel well."

"Again?" Ryan nodded. "Want to go back and lie down?" Another nod.

Spencer and Brendon helped Ryan back to the institute, practically having to carry him since his pounding head was on Spencer's shoulder. Brendon pulled the covers back of Ryan's bed and Spencer lied him down, taking his sunglasses off. "Want us to bring something back for you?"

Ryan groaned, putting his hand on his stomach at the thought of food. He felt nauseous in addition to his migraine and weak body. “No, thank you.”

Brendon sat on the edge of his own bed and looked between Spencer and Ryan talking, a tinge of jealousy shooting through him. He wanted to be able to talk to other people. He wanted to be able to hear other’s voices. He wanted to communicate naturally like everyone else in the world. But he would never be able to. He was stuck in his silent bubble forever. If he were to push Ryan on the swings forever, it would be in a silent bubble; never hearing Ryan’s laugh.

Spencer pulled the covers over Ryan and looked at Brendon with a small smile. “Ready?”

Brendon bit his lip, shaking his head and keeping his eyes on Ryan. He was happy that Spencer didn’t force him to go back to the large group and instead just nodded before leaving. The door shut and Brendon wondered what he was doing. He was hungry, looked forward to the day out all week, and liked being able to see a mass of people that were in the same bubble he was in. But here he was with Ryan, who was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. “Ryyyy’nnnnn.”

Ryan turned his head towards Brendon’s voice and lifted a hand, wiggling his fingers. He chuckled, looking back up and gripping the top of his blankets in his palm. The fact he wasn’t alone made him happy. He hated being alone and, a lot of the time, he felt alone even if he actually wasn’t. “Brendon, Brendon.”

Brendon lied down facing Ryan and scratched the back of his head, noticing how relaxed Ryan looked. He couldn’t see Ryan’s face the previous night, but now he knew what he was sleeping next to. It made his stomach twist in a few awkward ways and he suddenly felt creepy staring at Ryan, looking at his sunglasses instead because Ryan’s face was still in his line of vision.

Ryan looked Brendon again, flexing and unflexing his pointer finger and wanting Brendon to cuddle with him like before. He heard rustling around followed by jazz music filling the room. He laughed in happiness as Brendon crawled over him and against the wall, sliding under the covers next to him. He felt around for Brendon's hand, his arm tingling when Brendon found it first and laced their fingers together. His mind gave in to the music and he yawned at how comfortable everything was to him, taking Brendon's silence as sleeping and doing so himself.

When Brendon saw Ryan’s mouth part on it's own and body move deeply with his breaths, he decided to take a hint, but not before kissing Ryan's cheek.

Ryan's Revenge [1]

2008-07-08T14:28:29Z

Title: Ryan's Revenge [1]
Pairings: Pete/Ryan, Pete/OFC, Ryan/OFC, OFC/OFC, other little ones.
Chapter Rating: R
Summary: Pete signs a new band to spare his time with and Ryan is a little jealous.
Disclaimer: all this is fiction. any pictures or names that you recognize are simply by coincidence and unintentional.
Note: see prologue for a pikshur.

Pete smiled up at the young male band that stood across from him on the other side of his desk. They all nervously smiled back as he looked back down and flipped through a pile of stapled papers. The papers that would change their lives forever. The one year contract that could be renewed if their success was up to expectations. Everyone at the label had high hopes for this new band and after Panic at the Disco, Pete believed he could do it again.

"So here's the deal," he announced, looking over the boys before stopping on the bassist, Ben. "I highlighted the important stuff. Salary, tour arrangement, budget, recording deadlines. The rest is liability and disclaimers. Don't steal anyone's music, be respectful and open about everything, if you get electrocuted by one of the speakers, that’s your own fault...that sort of thing. It’s a huge opportunity for you guys.”

“Yeah it is,” Jordan chuckled, running a hand through the back of his perfectly styled hair.

Pete glanced at the guitarist just in time to see him turn his head at Ben to give a small smile. Pete’s stomach twisted and he saw Ben smile back with more enthusiasm. The two were in an on-and-off relationship, which Pete knows that it means they only break up for something irrelevant, wait a week, get back together. He didn’t know much about any of the guys’ personal lives, but he had a while to figure it out. A year at least and, boy, did he want to.

He cleared his throat for himself to get back on focus and took a shiny, expensive pen from the Chicago Bears mug on the edge of his desk. He held it towards the drummer named Aaron and slid the packet in front of him. “Look over it, read, whatever. Take your time-each of you, and then sign on the line with your name on the back page.”

Aaron looked down the line towards Jordan, who sent him a reassuring nod and grin. Licking his lips, he picked up the contract and grabbed the pen from Pete. “Thanks,” he mumbled, taking a deep breath before reading the yellow marked sentences and paragraphs.

Ben watched Aaron anxiously, wanting to know what was typed up on those papers. He wanted to snatch it away actually and sign for everyone so they could get to recording. He and Pete were on the same page, so he would sign whatever the older man put in front of him.

“What’s...we don’t get tour profit?” Aaron asked after a few silent minutes and currently on page six, confused as to how they would be working and not get paid for it. “Why not?”

“It’s used for renting out the venues, your complex stage set, paying for the crew and performers, and catering,” Pete smoothly explained. “Next tour, if there is one, you’ll be given a budget for the set up and keep most of the earnings from tickets and merch. Don’t worry though. Album sales and allowance will pay for your rent and meals.”

Aaron snorted, causing the quiet singer, Tyler, to look up from his trance on the floor. “Our taxes will skyrocket.”

“Not as much as you may think,” Pete assured him, biting his lip when he saw Tyler's face, who looked like he was going to be sick. “You alright, Tyler?”

Ben turned his body towards Tyler and frowned, rubbing his back. The two have been friends for forever and a day, so Ben knew everything about him, including the fact Tyler was prone to nervous breakdowns in common situations. However, right now didn’t quality as common but tense, serious, and nervewrecking. The band eventually found out, too, but would never realize how much of a bad thing it was to his mentality. Tyler did well to hold his emotions until he was in the privacy of his room. There, he’d kick, scream, cry, punch, destroy, break, and collapse. Sometimes Ben was with him, but usually during those times he was there, he’d wait in the hall until the room quieted down.

“He’ll be fine,” he answered for Tyler, who nodded and coughed quietly.

After Aaron signed, he handed the two items to Ben, who instantly flipped to the back and scribbled his signature. He looked at Pete, who was smirking at him, before slowly passing the pen and papers to Tyler. The singer shakily went through it, reading but not processing before writing his initials on his designated line.

“I guess if the band agrees,” Jordan started as he grabbed the pen and signed the last page on the last line, “I have to agree.”

Ben grinned, keeping his hand on Tyler’s back while Jordan gave everything back to Pete. He was excited that things were finally getting put into motion because he really had his doubts at first. He wondered how many bands Pete saw in a week, a day, and how many promises, even false, he pledged. When Ben got a phone call for a follow up practice observation, his hopes and the band’s shot up.

Pete told him during a private lunch meeting that their band would be the only one he’d sign and care about. Ben was shown the list of band names, alphabetically, with exclamation points and one-worded comments that were considered before they were chosen. He saw "Mary’s Lamb-! perfection." He asked why they only received one “!” and Pete said between his sips of wine “Less is more. It's our worry factor. Panic had one. Now they don’t. Get it?” Ben sort of did, but sort of not.

Pete sighed loudly and put the agreement in a side drawer of his desk. “That’s it,” he proclaimed with a smile. “You fly back out to Vegas in the morning and we’ll mail you dates later today that each of you should memorize. I suggest also getting to work on at least three new songs and practicing your old to complete flawlessness.”

Ben squeaked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m so excited,” he sang, Aaron and Jordan laughing and agreeing as Tyler lowered his head once more.

Pete stared at Ben with an amused face, the boy’s actions reminding him of a certain guitarist of another Las Vegas band. “Would you all mind giving Ben and I a moment?”

Aaron narrowed his eyes, suspicions running through his brain and body. The first time he ever met Pete, he knew something wasn’t right. Something was off. It wasn’t paranoia like Ben said, no, but rather guts and sense. He didn’t trust Pete as a person, but a little more as a businessman since he’s been in the industry for a while. It still wasn’t enough to have such confidence as the other three had.

He gave a pat on Ben’s shoulder before going to Tyler and helping him out of the room, leaving the door open for Jordan. Jordan stepped to Ben and gave him a gentle hug, kissing him quickly before whispering, “Congratulations, babe.”

Pete’s face flushed in jealousy, embarrassment, and anger. With Ryan Ross, it was so simple, no obstacle. It’d be a little challenge this time around, but he’d get Ben all to himself eventually. He was Pete Wentz, irresistible, come on. He had a three person smile, for crying out loud. When Ben said congrats back and kissed Jordan again, he had enough. “D’ohh. How sweet,” he commented in the most fake genuine tone ever.

Jordan smiled shyly at Pete and let Ben go, giving a final peck on the paler boy’s cheek and exited for the two bassist’s to be alone finally.

“I know I’m thinking ahead,” Pete started to get straight to the point the second the door clicked shut, “but I usually do.”

Ben creased his eyebrows, sticking his thumbs in his front pants’ pockets and kept his eyes concentrated on Pete’s face as to not miss anything important that may be said.

“The world cannot know of you and Jordan officially.”

Ben’s heart dropped and throat became dry because that wasn't the important news he had been expecting. Sure, it might not seem like too big of a deal, but it was to him. They were in love and already decided to show Nevada all about it. Now they would have to take it back? “But...our friends and-and family already know. Our fans-”

“I said officially,” Pete reminded him. “You need to be discreet, subtle, sneaky, and teasing.”

They were all contradictions to each other and Ben didn’t understand. He thought Jordan and himself were discreet, subtle, and sneaky. Teasing wasn’t really their thing, however. They either got to it or did nothing, which added to their discreetness. Right? “But-”

“Look.” Pete stood up and walked to the other side of his desk, standing in front of Ben. “I don’t think I’m asking too much.”

“It’s not that-”

Pete put a finger on Ben’s lips to silence him, his thumb slipping under his chin and lightly caressing it. “This would be okay,” he quietly said, his eyes staring into Ben’s dazed and intrigued ones. He put a hand on Ben’s hip after a few moments, pulling him closer and against his chest. “This is pushing it.”

“Yes it is,” Ben whispered in a harsh way, pulling back and licking his lips. “Are you hitting on me?”

“I am not-”

The phone rang from behind them, but neither moved or turned from their intent contact. A couple more rings and Pete blindly reached behind him to answer. “Decaydance, this is Pete.” On the other end, a familiar loud moan filled Pete’s ear and by the look on Ben’s face, it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear it. Covering the speaker, he said, “See you in a few weeks.”

Ben gave a wave and turned to leave as Pete made his way back behind his desk. He stood in the empty hallway for a minute, thinking about Pete’s words, actions, and the contract. The band signed themselves away voluntarily pretty much and he was really okay with that, even after Pete’s closing order. He could get through with it. He had to.

He made his way outside to the waiting limo after bidding the receptionist goodbye. He opened the door, driver already up front, and sat next to Jordan, who tapped on the dividing window for the driver to drive, across from Aaron and Tyler. Jordan put his arm around Ben’s waist, but he was politely pushed away, which went noticed by Aaron. “What happened?” the drummer asked in concern, Jordan’s face mildly face and Ben’s zoned out.

“Nothing.”

Pete sat down in his large leather chair as no words were being spoken, but just sounds. Non innocent sounds. “Ryan, what are you doing?” he asked stupidly, knowing fair well what Ryan was up to.

“Go-God, Pete,” Ryan choked out, breathing heavy. “I miss you so-so much.”

Pete was getting horny, who wouldn’t, but he took all his strength to contain it. He couldn’t keep having phone sex with Ryan while he was in the office. He had Mary’s Lamb now to keep him busy and a plan to conquer Ben to keep his mind occupied for a long time. “Ryan, we can’t do this while I’m at work anymore. Mary’s Lamb just signed and left.”

There was silence for a few seconds, small whimpers coming from Ryan while Pete took a stress ball from the edge of his desk to keep his free hand away from his crotch. “P-Pete? Talk.”

“Ryan.” Ryan moaned loudly, just like when Pete picked up, and the older man could just picture the younger arching his back off of his tour bus bunk.

Right now, Ben could wait because he had Ryan. He’d have Ryan until he had Ben.

He unbuttoned his dress pants, cock twitching when Ryan said his name again. “Pretend...I’m on top of you...riding that way you like...”

Ryan was wrapped around his seven inch dick and sooner or later, so would Ben.

21 Is A Meaningless Number

2008-07-04T01:10:28Z

Title: 21 Is A Meaningless Number
Pairing: NC-17
Chapter Rating: Ryan/Jon, teenybittywitty Ryan/Brendon
Summary: Ryan likes Jon's body hair when they're in the shower.
Disclaimer: we do not know what really happens on their bus or shower...

Ryan walked off the stage and thanked whoever happened to hand a towel to him in front of his face. He took his guitar off carefully and held it in his free hand while the other patted the towel all over his forehead, neck, under his collar a bit, jaws, and the sides of his nose. He kept his head lowered, eyes on Spencer's feet in front of him so he could follow the band easier back to the dressing room.

The loudness and chaos of the narrow corridor wasn't allowed in after Ryan, the guitarist shutting the door with his foot as the band collapsed all over the room of provided furniture. He looked around, each man having their eyes shut, before leaning his instrument against the edge of the chair he fell into. He wanted to shut his eyes, get a two minute nap in, but he knew the disappointment of being woken up wasn't worth it. Spencer snoring beside Brendon on the couch, however, showed the drummer didn't really care.

"Hey." Ryan took his eyes off of Spencer to see Brendon looking at him thoughtfully. "Let's go out."

Ryan shook his head, tilting his head to the side to rest on his shoulder. He went out with Brendon three times in the past week and he wasn't about to push his luck anymore. Hangovers weren't worth it just like being woken up.

"But...but...but Ryaaaaannn." God, he hated when Brendon said his name like that. "I'm 21, you're 21, therefore, we go out, okay? Okay. It's how that works."

Ryan licked his lips and let his gaze move onto Jon, who now had his eyes open, if just barely, and was staring at him. The smallest of smirks flashed across his mouth before he let his face relax, eyes disappearing behind lids once more. Ryan creased his eyebrows, the motions going too fast for his liking.

"Ryaaaaannn," Brendon whined, causing Spencer to jolt awake and glare at the singer.

"Bren, I really just wanna shower and crash. I don't have the same amount of energy as you do. I'm old." Brendon snorted. "Mentally." Spencer snorted. "It takes a toll on me physically."

"Jesus Christ, Ryan, you sound like you're fucking 90, elderly, and in a retirement home," Spencer chuckled, putting his head on Brendon's shoulder and shutting his eyes yet again.

Brendon pouted, which made Ryan get more frustrated than he already was towards his bandmate. "I really want you to," he whispered and as soon as the words left his throat, Ryan knew.

The only thing that ever happened when the two went out to drink together was Brendon flirting with Ryan to the maximum and attempting for the older man to realize the knee deep feelings he had toward him. The feelings that were non-existant. Brendon swore Ryan was in love with him and Ryan would laugh nervously even if Brendon believed it so dearly.

Brendon wouldn't believe that Ryan was giving and taking it from Jon, simply telling himself Ryan was playing hard to get. "No one likes an easy catch or else fishing wouldn't be as fun." Brendon hated fishing though, so Ryan took that conversation as a clue that he was slowly getting over it.

"I'm showering then sleeping," Ryan repeated in the same tone as when he tells a piss drunk Brendon that he has Jon and that's that.

Jon remained uninfluenced in the small war of words. He told Ryan the first day they went out together that "if you ever do want Brendon, then have him." The long lasting crush wasn't new to anybody, yet Ryan had never let Jon down.

Brendon clicked his tongue, glancing at a calm Jon that was slouched in a huge armchair in the corner, and sighed in defeat, which didn't happen too often. "Fine. Me and Spence will." He put an arm around the back of Spencer's neck. "Right, Smithy?"

"Mmm, don't fucking call me that ever again."

Brendon looked at Ryan intently for any signs of jealousy because the guitarist had feelings, Goddamn it. When Ryan smiled weakly, shrugged, and his eyes shot towards Jon, who was already looking at him, Brendon decided he had to dig into Ryan to find those feelings. Really dig. Diiiiig. Dig roughly...or dig slowly...?

Jon and Ryan waved Brendon and Spencer off as they went into a cab. The taxi sped off and the two stood there for a few moments, ignoring the fans that were by the gate and screaming at them to come back. They did their fair share of signing, talking, and entertaining and right now, they only wanted to be alone. The bassist took Ryan's hand and led the way towards and onto the bus.

They quietly went towards the back and into the bathroom, not saying a word or making a sound because when the other two weren't there, they liked to keep it noticeable.

Ryan closed the door behind him, grinning when Jon turned around and put a hand on his cheek. "I'm sorry about him-he doesn't know when to st-"

"Shh," Jon hushed, putting his thumb conveniently over Ryan's mouth. "I don't know when to stop sometimes," he admitted, that barely there smirk showing up and staying.

Ryan slid his tongue between his lips and licked Jon's thumb, grabbing his wrist to pull him closer. "It's because I don't want you to."

Jon's body pressed Ryan's against the door, their eyes burning as they took in each other's appearance and their breathing went in rhythm at a somewhat fast pace. Jon let the hand that was on Ryan's face move to the side of his neck while their foreheads bumped together gently. Jon's mouth skimmed over Ryan's, smiles curving up before impatience got the better of Ryan and he kissed Jon forcefully.

Ryan got a hold of the bottom of Jon's shirt between them and dragged it up, up, up until it reached the owner's collarbone and he pulled away to slip it off. Tossing it in the tiny sink beside them, Ryan did the same with his before Jon had the chance to. "I want you begging, Mr. Walker," he whispered and licked Jon's neck. He moaned quietly in shock when he felt one of his nipples get pinched and, fuck, he needed to get going. "I...am gonna give it to you so good," he finished slowly, biting down on Jon's neck hard and earning himself a gasp.

They finished undressing hurriedly and Jon got naked first, taking it upon himself to start the shower. He bent over after turning the knob halfway and kept his hand under the faucet of running water to make sure it was just right. An arm wrapped around his stomach, which made him smile, and a hand roamed all over his back.

Ryan leaned down and placed kisses all over Jon's back, the mild back hair towards the lower end making him giggle. "I love your body hair." He slid his hand to Jon's stomach and massaged it with his palm. "Though you could use more chest hair."

Jon turned the shower head on and stood slowly to shut the curtains. "But I have the hair that counts."

"And that is what matters."

They stepped under the spraying water and took a moment to let the surface dirt, sweat, and tiredness wash off of them and into the drain. Jon stood in front of Ryan and ran a hand through his hair before having it wander back to his right nipple he was teasing at before. "I love how you have hair everywhere." Ryan whimpered when Jon kissed his chest and sucked on his left. "It's fucking sexy."

Ryan wrapped his arms around Jon again, his hands squeezing the tight, in shape ass under his fingers. He pressed his hips against Jon's and began to slowly grind up with him. "I know I can get you off just by this."

"You-You can," Jon agreed, finding it hard to keep standing on his quivering knees and discovered leaning into Ryan made it slightly easier.

Ryan turned Jon around by his shoulders to press his chest against the wall and slid two wet fingers up his butt crack. Jon whined softly as Ryan curled them and rubbed his own cock over his hand while his hips just barely touched Jon‘s skin. "Have I ever told you...that I love your backside?" Ryan breathed out, getting himself worked up.

"Uh...huh..." Jon stretched his arms over his head, palms on the wall, and arched his back to shift in the smallest bit and have Ryan's fingers skim across his prostate. The burning feeling with the hot water was the perfect combination for him to cry out, "R-Ryan, therethere, go-go back."

Ryan ran his free hand through Jon's hair while the other pulled out and made its way to the front of Jon's pelvis. He licked his lips quickly before carefully putting the tip of his cock inside Jon a millimeter. Jon felt and wanted it, wondering for two seconds why Ryan wasn't moving, and looked over his shoulder at him. "You okay?"

Ryan stared blankly at him, not a flicker of passion or depression in his eyes before he forced his hips forward quickly and his penis was all the way inside Jon, who tilted his head back and moaned. Ryan pushed Jon's head to the wall and turning it to the side with a smirk. He rotated his hips, weak pants coming from Jon's mouth, which only became louder when Ryan squeezed his dick gently and massaged the head with his thumb.

Ryan pulled out halfway and kissed Jon's moist ear. "How do you want it, baby? Hmm?" He pushed back in, catching Jon by surprise as they both moaned two different pitches. "Do-Do you want it fast o...or slow?"

"Fast," Jon pleaded and rolled his hands into fists to keep them up on the wall. "Fast, Ry, please."

Ryan moved himself closer to Jon until he felt his hand around Jon's cock being painfully pinned against the wall. He moved his hips back, Jon's doing the same, and thrust into him hard as his hand moved up and down Jon's shaft messily and fast.

"Fuck!" Jon shouted in a perfect 50/50 mix of pain and pleasure, Ryan inside and outside of him, his dick pinching in Ryan's hand and the wall. It all turned him on that much more.

It was too slippery and uncomfortable to keep their hips away from the wall and when Jon didn't protest when he was completely level with it, Ryan kept on moving. His body began to shake with anticipation because Jon felt so incredibly good when he was wet, soft, mindless, moaning... If he wasn't worked up before, he sure was now.

Ryan's chin rested comfortably on Jon's shoulder, face to face. His heart sped up and melted when he saw Jon with his eyes shut gently, mouth open, hair sticking to his forehead. He kissed Jon's bottom lip, a low hum escaping the bassist's throat, and their tongues met viciously in the middle just when Ryan picked up his pace.

He felt as if his chest and Jon's back were fumed together as they conflicted in unison at the same rhythm as their tongues, hips, hands, and breathing.

"Come on, baby," Ryan encouraged, knowing that if he came first, it would make it more difficult for him to finish Jon off because he'd be even more exhausted and weak. He half sighed, half screamed as his hips pushed harder on their own accord. "God, Jon."

Jon moaned loudly and released into Ryan's hand. His body was shaking more severely now as Ryan kept thrusting into him. He pressed his forehead against Ryan's and kissed him softly, grinning when he felt a thicker liquid on his lower back not one second later.

Ryan froze up, exhaling quietly through his nose and turning Jon around so their chests met. He kissed Jon's neck and bit at it a few times, Jon whimpering and massaging Ryan's hips smoothly. "Oh, Jon..."

"Oh, Ryan," Jon mimicked, eyes lighting up when Ryan looked at him. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Ryan turned his body halfway to grab a small traveler-sized container of shampoo. "I love you so much that I'll do the task of washing you."

When Jon saw Ryan start to smirk, he did the same thing. "What a favor you're doing for me."

Ryan poured some shampoo into his hand before putting the bottle back and rubbing his hands together. "I might make you more dirty though," he warned with a raised eyebrow.

"Wouldn't that defeat the purpose?"

Ryan giggled and shook his head, kissing Jon hard and running his soapy hands through the bassist's hair.

A/N: i wrote this on my phone whilst at work =\ i havent updated at all cuz 1, i have no time to write and 2, ive been working every minute of every day pretty much.
also comments would be good because im not good with secks lol. like, when i start it off, its okay, but when i get to the actuality, i get all numb and i dont like it anymore...idk, its sorta confusing, but.

Different and Special

2008-06-25T06:17:13Z

Title: Different and Special
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Chapter Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: Wedding reception. Ryan is scared to interrupt Brendon and his mom dancing.
Disclaimer: we have no real proof of their marriage, so its not true yet.

Ryan shakily brought a glass of rum to his lips, sipping it as he watched Brendon, his new husband, dancing with his mother, both having identical smiles on their face as they talked in hushed tone with each other. Spencer, Ryan’s best man, nudged his side softly and gave a nod towards Brendon. Ryan shook his head.

“Dude, it’s what you’re supposed to do,” Spencer reminded him, a few people around the room looking at Ryan and waiting for him to cut in so the rest of the crowd could dance, too. “At rehearsal, we-”

“At rehearsal, I didn’t sneeze during my fucking vows,” Ryan snapped, gulping more of the amber liquid into his mouth and didn‘t notice Brendon glancing at him.

Spencer sighed. “The flowers were pollen...y, okay? But you have to go take Brendon from his mom, like, now. Seriously. It’s in the book.”

Ryan creased his eyebrows as Spencer grabbed his shoulder and pushed him in the dance floor. “What book?” he mumbled to himself, walking to Brendon and his mom with a pounding heart. “Hey...um...I don’t want to...intrude, but-”

“But you’re supposed to,” she happily said, standing on her tiptoes to wrap her short arms around his neck, having him bend down to hug back. “I’m so unbelievably happy.”

She kissed his cheek and walked off to join her husband at the dinner table that was right in front of the wedding party’s. Brendon gave a crooked smile at how dazed Ryan appeared and held his arms out. He chuckled as Ryan rolled his eyes and put his arms around Brendon’s waist. “I didn’t think you were gonna get out here,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around Ryan’s neck and the last verse rang out around them.

“I didn’t think I was either until Spence shoved me,” Ryan admitted, causing Brendon to grin wide. “I didn’t want to just cut in.”

Brendon laughed quietly. “You were supposed to though. What son would rather dance with his mom instead of his new spouse? Really?”

“I guess.” Ryan rubbed his nose across Brendon’s cheek, inhaling deeply at how good he smelled. “You look so beautiful right now,” he whispered, moving to rest his forehead against Brendon’s as a few other couples began to dance with them.

He blushed, running a hand through the back of Ryan’s hair. “You look beautiful just like every other day.”

Ryan shut his eyes and kissed Brendon gently, the corners of both of their mouths going up. Their lips and tongues moved with each other in a way neither thought possible. It was special and different than any other kiss they shared, including their first dance at the start of the reception. Ryan sighed softly through his nose, letting his hands go on both sides of Brendon’s face to keep him still and expecting more kisses to be special and different throughout the night.

“Mmm, I love you,” Ryan breathed over Brendon’s lips before kissing him again.

Brendon pulled back a little and barely got out “I love you, baby” before Ryan went back to kissing him. He pulled the older man closer, neither swaying to the music anymore and taking comfort in just being devoted to each other. He twirled his new ring around his finger before pushing it too far and having it fall to the floor. “Shit,” he laughed, pulling away to bend and pick it up.

Ryan raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Do you not like it?” he asked, his ears finally hearing that the song was now fast and people were grinding and dancing all around him.

“I love it, but I guess my finger doesn’t. Just how your nose didn’t like the flowers,” he smirked as Ryan blushed. “It’s okay, baby.”

Ryan wrapped an arm around the back of Brendon’s neck and kissed his temple. “Shut up, husband, and dance with me.”

As the night went on, Ryan’s expectations were met. Every kiss was more special than the last and every touch was felt on overdrive. It wasn’t until they went back to their honeymoon suite at the Luxor, lying on the bed that was facing the window and all of Las Vegas, their childhood hometown, Brendon sleeping beside him that his life would now be special and different from this day on.

And Ryan was completely all up for that.

A/N: sorry for not updating, like, anything...i get myself in too deep and lose my train of thought of what was gonna happen >.<

White Pants are Ghey

2008-06-23T06:15:58Z

Title: White Pants are Ghey
Pairing: Ryan/Joe Jonas
Chapter Rating: R
Summary: Ryan wants to get into the fashion industry and with Pete's help, he has to dress Joe Jonas of the Jonas Brothers.
Disclaimer: joe still has those ugly white pants and ryan is too busy smooching brendon to care about fashion.

Ryan snorted, putting a hand over his mouth and shaking his head. "No, no."

Pete shrugged and patted Joe Jonas of the Jonas Brothers on the shoulder. "Have fun, pal," he said with a smirk before turning and leaving the hotel room that was full of clothes.

Ryan may be Ryan Ross of Panic at the Disco in the music industry, but in the fashion world, he was a nobody who was friends with that "Clandestine kid." He wanted to be a part of the fashion industry by having his own clothing line, but he had no experience whatsoever and the status of his name wasn't quite enough yet. He had to start somewhere and Pete wanted to target preteens (in clothing purposes only, apparently), so why not have Ryan dress the King of Preteen Girl Land?

Joe tapped his toes nervously and held out a hand with a friendly smile. "Hey, I'm-"

"Take your pants off."

Joe blinked, laughing in disbelief. "Excuse-"

"Look. I'm dressing you, right?" Joe nodded slowly. "I'm going to see your penis anyway, so just fucking take your ugly white pants off."

Joe blushed but followed Ryan's order, taking his time as he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He glanced at Ryan to make sure he was still supposed to do this, and by the impatient look an the guitarist's face, he figured he was. He kicked his shoes off and pushed his pants down his legs, passed his knees, and off his ankles.

Ryan marched over and snatched the white pants, grabbing a pair of scissors to cut random holes all over. "These are the gayest fucking things I've seen in my life, they make you look flamboyantly gay in a way that is not good, and you will never, ever wear white on your legs ever again, you understand me?"

Joe shifted awkwardly in his spot, scratching the back of his neck. "It's sort of signature for us. I wear the white, Nick the black-"

"I don't give a flying fuck about your stupid little pop act, okay? I'm going to make you hot and that is it." Ryan looked at Joe's underwear and smirked. "Nice tightie whities."

Joe crossed his arms over his chest, getting frustrated. "Are you going to just insult me or dress me?"

"I'm trying to make conversation, geez." He checked Joe out one last time before going to the jeans rack. "Also, I saw 'Camp Rock' on Disney."

"Really?" Joe said, a little excited.

"You looked like a Goddamn queer, so I'm not sure how Disney allowed that to air." Joe was about to say something, that it was the stylists that dressed everyone, but Ryan wouldn't let him have a word in yet. "If you want to wear tight pants and a tight shirt, make sure they're both dark. I wanted to kill you and my t.v. You're such a moron!"

"I didn't choose my clothes, Mr. Flower Hippie," Joe snapped back.

Ryan narrowed his eyes and stepped in front of Joe with a pair of dark gray jeans in his hand. He looked down and grabbed the bottom of Joe's shirt, pulling it up roughly and off his body. Dropping it to the ground, he ran his hand over the bare stomach and heard the shaky breath. "Am I making you nervous?"

Joe swallowed hard, biting his lip and nodding. He was confused as to how Ryan was yelling at him one moment and caressing him the next. He heard that Ryan was complicated, but this wasn't complicated. It was just confusing.

Ryan grabbed Joe's left hand and ran his thumb over the ring that sat on the fourth finger. "Married?"

Joe shook his head. "It's a ring to stay pure until I'm married."

Ryan snorted again, the exact same as a few minutes ago, and let his hand go. "Wow, no guy or girl is gonna want you then."

"Look, just put clothes on me-" Joe fell backwards onto the bed when Ryan pushed him, straddling his waist and kissing him hard. Joe reacted instantly, almost too quickly, and pushed Ryan's shoulders back. "What are you-"

Ryan pinned Joe's hands over his head tightly and kissed him again, shoving his tongue through lips and teeth to glide over Joe's. He pressed his hips against Joe's, chuckling when the hips pushed back, and pulled back a little. He fingered the ring again, face right in front of Joe's, and he smiled genuinely. "I'll show you why you won't need it."

Ryan's clothes joined Joe's on the floor, Joe moaned because he was feeling the most incredible feeling all due to Ryan, and Ryan screamed when he came because one, he just fucked a Goddamn Jonas Brother and two, he just fucked a Goddamn Jonas virgin. Goddamn him to hell.

After Ryan cleaned Joe and himself, he put pants on and went over to grab a red silk longsleeve. He put the shirt and pants on Joe's still panting, naked body. "Don't wear underwear anymore either."

"I...the bus has my family-"

"They shouldn't be looking then, anyway." He reached over and grabbed Joe's hand again, sliding the ring off and putting it on his middle finger. "I think mama's gonna be upset."

"She isn't gonna find out," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair while Ryan kept a hold of his other. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because your purity now is burst."

"No, like...have sex with me."

Ryan giggled. "I took the V card from a Disney channel person. It's pretty fucking epic." He patted Joe's leg as he sat up. "Get dressed to see what you should look like."

That night, when the Jonas Brothers were performing, Joe didn't run around the stage as fast or directly as he usually did. Ryan and Pete watched from the side of the stage, ignoring the nearby fans that switched from calling their names to Joe's. Pete nodded as he looked at Joe's outfit. "I think you did pretty good."

Ryan smirked, noticing how Joe limped slightly as he walked from the edge of the stage back to the center. "I think I did pretty good, too."

A/N: idk what possessed me to do this...oh. i know. the fact i hate his ugly white pants >:[

Institute of The L.O.V.E. [1/4]

2008-06-22T04:12:11Z

Title: Institute of The L.O.V.E. [1/4]
Pairings: Ryan/Brendon
Chapter Rating: PG
Summary: Ryan is blind, Brendon is deaf, and they're now roommates with each other in the institute of The L.O.V.E., Listening Or Visual Efforts.
Disclaimer: all of this is fiction coming out of my head. everything. i dont know statistics, but i chose to write my story this way, so if it bothers you that it could be terribly inaccurate, either read passed it or dont read at all.

There's a place blind and/or deaf people can go when their family gives up and no longer loves them or they need psychological help to deal with their disorder. It's called Institute of The L.O.V.E., which stands for Listening Or Visual Efforts. Of course.

The patients that resided there were ages 16 and up, many not having done well in their education and their frustrated parents dropped them off to move out of the state across the country. The patients that checked in and checked out in an average time span of two hours and thirteen minutes were between 3 and 22. It was very rare the parents would bring them in, so it was usually a grandmother or godmother because the parents just always have to work late the medical days.

Parents thought just because their child couldn't hear or see them that it wouldn't be so bad if they were abandoned. To parents, the child came out of the box a broken toy and because they couldn't repair it themselves, they just returned it to the store. Simple as that.

The nurses and workers of the hospital took some time to adjust to the fact a parent would say "We'll be back to visit tomorrow, sweetie. I love you." and kiss their forehead, smile at them in confidence, and never come back. As required by law, they called the homes of the parents a week after no contact. The phone line was always disconnected or unavailable.

Not just people from the Colorado area had damaged children, oh no. People from all over the country flew into Denver with three plane tickets and flied out with two.

Ryan Ross was blind and lived in the institution since he was four. He knew the second his mom put a hand on his back and led him out to the car that it was going to be it. When someone has one less sense than everyone else, they sort of gain another that no one with eyesight has. They live in the dark, so to stay not as clueless, they can feel emotions through touch and sound. Ryan didn't understand it then, but accepted it anyway. Now, a 21 year old adult, he still doesn't understand. He never will.

He was holding onto his nurse's arm, Spencer, as he was being told about how he was going to get a new roommate. "He's deaf and as a little welcoming treat to make things comfortable, me and the Walk Doc are going to take you guys out to eat. Won't that be fun?"

Ryan smiled and nodded, his fingers brushing against Spencer's upper arm just to feel the warm skin. It comforted him and made things easier. Things being life. "Is he going to be like Butch? I liked Butch."

"I don't think so. He's considerably younger than Butch." Butch was around 60 years old and blind along with Ryan. He died of a heart attack one night, but Ryan knew it was coming because Butch told him so a second after Spencer turned the lights out.

Ryan heard the familiar creak of his bedroom door opening and light getting turned on. It always humored him when Spencer flicked the switch on because yeah, Spencer may need it, but he didn't. It was a stupid, little joke he always kept to himself. "When is he gonna get here?"

"Dinnertime. He's being transferred from the Highland facilities, so it depends on traffic time really." Ryan nodded as he felt the back of his legs hit the side of his bed, sitting down and kicking his shoes off. "Do you want the radio on, to read a book, nap...?"

Ryan thought for a moment about this decision because he wanted the radio on, but he wanted to nap. In order to sleep, he needed it to be dead silent. "I'll just listen to music and lie down for a bit. The walk got me tired."

Spencer chuckled and Ryan heard him walk across the room to the little table where a lonely stereo sat. He adjusted the dial, going passed stations that had on infomercials, and stopping on a slow, jazz broadcast. "This okay with you?"

"It's very soothing," Ryan commented, turning himself to lie down on his back and underneath the covers.

"Good. I'll wake you up as soon as Brendon gets in so you can at least be aware when he's in here-"

"Brendon?" Ryan interrupted, suddenly excited. "Is that his name?"

"Yup. Brendon Urie, 20 years old, born in Maine. Have a good rest."

Ryan heard the light switch again, which he smiled at in humor, and the door shut. His mind drifted to the trumpet playing throughout the room quietly with the accompanied alto male voice. His muscles relaxed as he took his sunglasses off and placed them on the bedside table. He buried his face in his pillow, thinking about this Brendon Urie 20 Maine. He was deaf, so Ryan wondered how they would get along. He didn't speak to deaf people much because he never knew when there was one around. Whenever he did talk to them, they always read his lips and answered back in a slurred sentence while a translator interpreted their hands right afterwards, in case he didn't understand.

The music filled his ears and head again before he even realized it did so, causing him to doze off into a land of possibilities. A land of dreams, where color wasn't afraid of him and faces showed themselves to him.

He was lightly shaken awake and felt a hand running through his hair. He blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. He grabbed his sunglasses off the table and put them on before patting out where Spencer's hand was. "Is he weird?"

"Nope." Ryan could hear the instrumental music still playing which brought a small smile to his face. "You like that, don't you?" Ryan nodded, letting his body sway back and forth. "I have a CD I think you'd like."

Ryan felt Spencer get up and he did the same, stumbling a little bit over where he took his shoes off. He whined a little because he liked to think he knew where everything in the room was, which he did. Just not his shoes. "I think you should do that. Unless you listen to it a lot," Ryan said as Spencer let him go to make up his bed.

"It'd be no problem. I have a lot of jazz records, so I could spare you a couple."

"That's very nice of you, Spencer, thank you." Ryan shuffled towards where the door was and moved his hand around the wall until he got hold of his cane. He didn't like when he wasn't touching anything because he felt more lost in the world than he already did. "Where are we going to eat?"

He heard Spencer stop his movements just as noise came up from behind him, fingers touching his shoulder before the whole hand. "Hey Ryan." It was Doctor Walker and he turned around to smile at him. "I have your new roommate with me."

Ryan held a hand out in front of him because he wasn't exactly sure where Brendon was. A few shuffling movements later, his hand had another, unfamiliar over his. He held onto it longer than a normal handshake and pressed his fingertips all over this new guys hand. Brendon chuckled awkwardly, but not feeling awkward at all, and let it happen. "I'm Ryan, Brendon."

"I...Brennon," Brendon said in a shaky, confident manner. He was always pleased with himself when he spoke and Dr. Walker gave a nod that he did it right.

Ryan smiled and let Brendon's hand go. "Nice to meet you."

"Ni' tooooo me' ooooh."

Without even knowing him, Ryan was extremely happy of Brendon. He met a lot of deaf people that didn't even bother with talking, who could blame them, but Brendon read lips like an expert and did his best to reply back vocally without even knowing if he was saying it correctly.

Spencer told him the first time he encountered a deaf person "imagine them not having tongues. That's sort of how they talk. They use their lips instead." After a few more encounters, Ryan understood what he meant.

Spencer took Ryan's cane away, Ryan immediately wrapping his arm around his. "We're going for pizza. Everyone okay with that?"

Ryan nodded and heard Jon mumble under his breath what Spencer just said while his fingers moved across each other. Brendon squeaked of excitement, but didn't say anything back. Spencer took a single step and Ryan followed his movements, feeling a hand on his opposite wrist. "Brendon's holding onto you, okay?" Spencer clarified, Ryan looking in Brendon's direction and smiling.

"He wants to know what kind of pizza you like," Dr. Walker said from next to Brendon.

"I'm a pig, so whatever's in front of me."

A few seconds later, Brendon laughed a clean, genuine laugh. Not shaky, not hesitant, and Ryan liked it because it made him forget for a moment that he was deaf, which was always a good thing.

"What if someone puts something nasty in front of you?" Dr. Walker asked for him.

"I'd smell it and throw it at them, Brendon, so don't even try."

A few seconds, another laugh along with Spencer and Dr. Walker. Ryan was worried about how the conversation would be because of the fact Brendon couldn't talk, but everything was turning out just fine.

They walked out to Spencer's car, Ryan getting in the passenger seat while Brendon and Dr. Walker took the back. Spencer changed the radio to the jazz Ryan fell asleep to and he smiled. "You like jazz, Ryan?" Dr. Walker asked from the back.

"Yes. I like the quiet snares in the background, saxophone, low voices...everything about it."

Spencer started the drive as Dr. Walker continued. "Brendon plays jazz on the piano, don't you, Brendon?"

Dr. Walker was translating everything the entire time they were in the car, from Spencer and Ryan's exchange, as to not have Brendon being oblivious and left out. Brendon said "yes" perfectly and Ryan couldn't help smiling again. Brendon talking was like hearing a miracle happen or something. He couldn't see the look Dr. Walker and Spencer shared, but Brendon could and asked about it. Dr. Walker only shook his head.

When they arrived at the pizza place, conveniently called That Pizza Place, it was loud with music and talk. It was a Friday night, so why wouldn’t it be. Ryan’s arm tightened around Spencer’s and he moved his other hand so that instead of Brendon holding his wrist, their hands were gripped. Spencer and Brendon moved ahead of him, Dr. Walker trailing behind, to follow the waitress to a part of the restaurant that wasn’t so noisy.

When they sat down, she placed menus in front of them and asked what they wanted to drink. “Me and Ryan will have a glass of tap Bud with a straw for both of us.”

She creased her eyebrows at the request for straws with beer because it wasn’t normal, but she accommodated and asked for their IDs. Spencer pulled out his wallet, showing both of theirs, before Dr. Walker got a coke and Brendon a lemonade. Dr. Walker said he didn’t want Brendon feeling bad because he wasn’t allowed to drink and they both nodded.

“I only let Ryan drink during special occasions. Otherwise I get him orange soda or orange juice.”

Ryan moved his head around as if he was looking all over the place. He liked to imagine what places looked like and outline the structure on the back of his eyelids. Spencer and Dr. Walker engaged in some conversation about dairy products and he wondered what Brendon was doing.

He looked directly in front of him, since Dr. Walker could be heard off to the side, and smiled. “Hi Brendon.”

Even if Ryan couldn’t see it, Brendon waved. “’i Ryyy’nnnn.”

Spencer and Dr. Walker stopped their talking and aimed their attention at Ryan and Brendon, which Ryan noticed. “I was just saying hi. Go back to yogurt types.”

They both laughed and did so, Ryan outstretching his hand on the table and Brendon placed his on top. “Doctor Walker, really quick, tell Brendon I’m not some molester of hands or something.”

Dr. Walker did so and Brendon gestured a quick reply while shaking his head. “He knows and doesn’t mind.”

The waitress came back with their drinks and took their order. Like Ryan said, he didn’t really care what he was eating as long as it wasn’t disgusting and Brendon liked pepperoni, so they ordered it just for him. Spencer and Dr. Walker devoted all their time to making the two happy and special out-of-facility activities were no different.

Ryan kept one hand on Brendon’s while the other’s pinky stayed on the base of his chilled mug so he knew where it was. Sometimes he’d let his hand wander off, but one of the purposes of the straw was so that he could find it again without knocking it over. He simply waved his pointer finger around until he hit it. Sure, Spencer just sliding it to him would be easier, but Ryan was a grown boy. He could do things himself.

The two stayed to themselves as Dr. Walker and Spencer talked about other patients Ryan frequently overhears them discussing. Like one named Pete. He apparently is going out of his mind and through a midlife crisis at the same time. He’s deaf and finally frustrated that he can’t see a damn thing. “If I can’t see the world, why be a part of it?” he said, and Ryan understood completely.

Completely.

Ryan smiled whenever he felt Brendon’s hand move a little and the sound of slurping come shortly afterwards. He may be blind, but he knew what was going on and he sort of felt proud of himself each time. Brendon brushed his fingers over Ryan’s knuckles occasionally and Ryan liked it. “Dr. Walker, could you ask him if he’s hungry?”

Dr. Walker did so and Brendon smiled before saying, “Yaaaa.” The smile was obvious in his voice. Ryan didn’t treat him differently, which is something always worth smiling for.

Their food came and Spencer got the whole table refills before passing out the slices. Ryan heard his hit the plate, letting Brendon’s hand go to pick it up carefully and guide it to his mouth. He sighed in bliss because it was so delicious. “Is there that parmesan shreds? If there is, Spencer, dump some on mine please.”

They ate in silence, enjoying the music that was playing around them and just satisfied with being among each other. It was comforting, being able to go in public as equals.

After Dr. Walker and Spencer split the bill 50/50, they all headed out and went back to the institute. It was dark now, the sun already had set, and Spencer said he’d get them an ice cream cone while they got their pajamas on. Even if Ryan couldn’t see, Brendon still felt weird about changing and went to the bathroom instead. Once the door shut, Ryan rushed as much as he could into his night clothes. Brendon made a point to jiggle the handle to let Ryan know he was coming back in and did so just as Spencer came in with their dessert.

“Now, Brendon,” he said aloud and gestured, “if Ryan starts to make a mess, don’t be afraid to tap and let him know. Otherwise he won’t. You are also responsible for turning the light off when the bell rings midnight, if not before. Okay?”

Brendon nodded and started to sign back, Spencer speaking. “Ryan’s okay with me helping him out, right? I don’t want him to get irritated at me like I sometimes do with other people.”

Spencer chuckled, glancing at Ryan who was sitting on the bed, legs under him and licking his ice cream with a small smile. “First off, Brendon, you can address Ryan whenever you please and yes, you can help him all you want. If he doesn’t need help, he’ll let you know.”

Brendon nodded and apologized, both men wishing Spencer a good night before he left the room and shut the door, locking it from the outside. Brendon sat on his bed, copying Ryan’s posture, and stared at him while he ate. “Eeeeeeuh,” he pushed out of his mouth, coughing before biting into the cone.

Ryan tilted his head, taking the last bite of his some time later, and wiping his mouth. He grabbed onto his cane that was next to his bed and stood up to make his way into the bathroom. He felt around for his toothbrush once he reached the sink. He peaked around the doorframe, holding it out to make sure it was his.

He pointed at it, then himself, and Brendon said “Yaaaa,” which made Ryan smile wide as he went back to brush his teeth.

He placed the cane back beside his bed once he was safely under the covers only to have it fall to the ground. He groaned and dropped his hand off the side of the bed, trying to feel for it. He stopped when he heard Brendon pick it up and tap his hand with his finger. “Thank you,” he motioned, Brendon leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Good night.”

“Goooa naaaaa.”

The Loving Dead [9]

2008-06-22T03:33:25Z

Title: The Loving Dead [9]
Pairing: Ryan Ross/Edward Cullen
Rating: PG
Summary: Edward Cullen is a vampire that develops feelings on a human named Ryan Ross.
Disclaimer: edward belongs to mrs. meyer and i only the plot and the plot alone.

I dreaded, and I mean dreaded, going to school this morning. The weekend was fun, I won't lie, but it would have been better spent if I was with Ryan or at least gave him a call to let him know I wouldn't be there. Both thoughts made me feel better until I realized neither happened.

Saturday morning was a rough start because I tried my luck to tiptoe away from Emmett and sprint off, but Carlisle was always right behind me and by that afternoon, he was getting pretty frustrated with me. A mad Carlisle wasn't a pretty one. I watched the sun set from the campsite and imagined how the date would have gone. Which was perfect, of course, because it was with Ryan. Sunday afternoon, driving back home, I wanted to die. No, seriously. I wanted to just stab myself because I could virtually feel Ryan's misery from the night before.

Alice had this smirk on her face the whole ride to school while Emmett just kept his eyes in front of him with a tight hold on the steering wheel. I kept my head down on my book bag, thinking up ways I could possibly apologize or make it up to Ryan. Chances were that he wouldn't even look at me, so that would be a task itself.

Emmett parked and we all got out along with the other students that just arrived. We were running late this morning, for once, because I was procrastinating the best that I could. Taking extra time to get dressed, reading one of my books...when you have all the time in the world, you get anxious, which is why we were always at school early.

I dragged myself towards my locker and almost passed out when I saw Ryan standing there, as usual. I got a string of hope in my stomach, but it disappeared almost as quickly as it occurred. He was standing there to tell me he wanted nothing to do with me anymore and that his friends told him all along... It was going to be painful. I could just tell.

I cleared my throat when I was close enough to him and he looked at me with hurt eyes. Not angry, upset, or sad. Hurt, like I kicked his newborn kitten. "Listen, I-" I tried to just explain what happened before he could jump at my throat, but he wasn't having it.

"I sort of hoped you would come here early before everyone, like usual, but..." He spoke quietly and I didn't know if it was because he didn't want passing students hearing our conversation or what. "I think our friendship just won't work. You have different morals than me and we'd conflict a lot."

"Ryan, don't you want to know where I was? I didn't forget-I wanted to show up so badly. I wanted to hang out with you. It wasn't like 'Hey, let's ditch Ryan because he thinks I suck enough already' because it certainly wasn't like that."

He looked down at the floor and scuffled his feet from side to side. "Then why didn't you?" Talking to me alone was making him deeper in the dumps and I wasn't sure what to do. Stop talking to make it better for the time being or keep talking in hopes he'd listen. "My friends told me, but I thought I'd find out for myself. And I did."

I reached for his hand and grabbed it, but he pulled it back just as swiftly. "Ryan-"

"I think you need to talk to your dad. You've been really cold lately." I tried to interpret what he said, wondering if he meant cold as in temperature or cold as in personality. I was thinking he started with one idea and ended in another. "Have a good day," he mumbled, turning around to walk down the hall to his awaiting friends, who all glared at me.

I ran a hand through my hair, looking up at the ceiling in frustration. I could feel everyone's eyes on me and at that moment I wanted to scream everything. I'm a vampire and my stupid dad took me out hunting so I won't attack any of you imbeciles and to make me mess things with Ryan up. That would clear things, I think.

I came to the conclusion that I was going to have to prove myself to Ryan. Show him that a friendship with him would mean everything to me. I would have to do it sneakily though because Alice and Emmett, well, were Alice and Emmett.

I went through the school day thinking and skipped lunch so I could go to the library to think in quietness. I wrote a few ideas down, all that didn’t really seem to work. They were too extravagant. I debated just writing stupid notes and stuffing them in his locker, but that was lame. If we were in middle school, that would work so well.

Then it hit me. His car. I could put stuff underneath his windshield wipers. I even could open the car door if it was unlocked, but if he hated me too much, I would get in trouble. Unless he didn’t know it was from me for sure, but I made it obvious enough... I was a genius sometimes.

When school let out, I saw that the Volvo was gone, except I didn’t completely care. Sure, I had no ride home this time, but I wasn’t going home yet. I had plans.

I walked into town and one of the many tiny convenience stores. I wandered around frantically, letting my fingers trace across the shelves before getting to the office and school supplies aisle. I grabbed a pack of note cards and rushed towards the front of the store.

I put the pack of cards in front of the cashier, eying a vase of fake flowers before grabbing a handful and throwing them down, too. The old lady scanned everything slowly, one by one, and put them in a plastic bag. “Oh, young sir, flowers for someone special?” she said in a shaky, cracked voice, typing into the register carefully.

I smiled a little, pulling my wallet out. “Sort of.” I handed her a $10 bill as she put the bag in front of me. “Keep the change.”

“Oh, God bless you, young man.”

I gave a nod, snatching the bag and rushing back to the school, unsure of when Ryan was leaving. Thankfully, his truck was still there. I sat on a spot stopper and ripped the note card wrapper off, stuffing it into my bag while I pulled out a pen. I thought hard about what to write because, really, I had no idea what to say.

I sighed and scribbled a small sentence. “I thought of you my entire weekend.” I disputed with myself if that sounded too creepy, but I didn’t care because it was the truth.

I ripped the tag off of one of the fake flowers, a yellow one, and folded the card around the stem before standing up to put it under the windshield wiper. I smiled to myself, hoping I was doing the right thing by this. If he screamed at me tomorrow, I was wrong. If not...I’d just have to see.

A/N: im not updating anything. its summer, i have all this time, but im lazy. im juggling all these chaptered and standalones...my mind goes crazy in summer and i cannot keep up. Dx this one is ending in a few chapters, then im gonna post my new one. because me posting two at the same time doesnt work well. nope. but the next chapters will be longer than what ive been doing. so. there. ^.^

Ryan's Revenge [prologue]

2008-06-18T07:18:18Z

Title: Ryan's Revenge [prologue]
Pairings: TBD
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Summary: Pete signs a new band to spare his time with and Ryan is a little jealous.
Disclaimer: all this is fiction. any pictures or names that you recognize are simply by coincidence and unintentional.

When Panic at the Disco came into the scene, first off they had the exclamation point, and second off Pete was in love with them. More the guitarist than anything else, but he put his heart and soul into the band to make sure they were on their way to becoming a household name for teenage emos everywhere. Did people really believe Ryan Ross wore that rosevest before Pete signed them? Really? Did people take into consideration the harassment he would endure? Before the rosevest and record deal, Panic at the Disco was just a band with wannabe kids that Pete believed in.

Pete told them how to do everything so they were unique and stood out from all the other bands out there. He made small suggestions to Ryan's music, lyricist to lyricist, and sort of brainwashed Brendon into constantly flirting with Ryan "to give the girls something else to like if they hate your music." Brendon said their point was the music, but Pete ignored him.

Pete took Ryan everywhere like a brand new Chanel purse. Every little event he could get into, Ryan was by his side. They took pictures, Pete flaunted him as being the best thing since peanut butter and jelly, and Ryan could not complain. He was getting all the attention from Pete, it's what he dreamed of ever since he discovered Fall Out Boy.

Pete even told Ryan one night, when he was visiting the band on their first tour, as they were sitting on the floor together and watching Conan O'Brien, that they were the best thing to happen to him. "You guys changed me. I'm not sure how, but I feel it." He grabbed Ryan's hand and pressed it against his heart. "I feel it there."

Ryan told Pete that he loved him and Pete only smiled. He didn't say anything back, but Ryan tried not to notice.

Now that the band was able to function on their own, however, Pete decided to sign and devote his time to another band. Another Las Vegas band. Mary's Lamb is what they were called and Pete had big plans for them. After promoting Panic at the Disco like a Leonardo DiCaprio movie, he found out pros and cons as to how to make Mary's Lamb even bigger than Panic.

The band was young, fresh, and very attractive, which was a good start. Pete didn't mind the bassist either. He had ideas of how they could teach each other a thing or two. Strictly about the bass guitar, of course.

Pete's new object of affection was Ben Martin, who was the bassist. He always had a smile on his face, a joke up his sleeve, and a laugh that could make your entire day. Pete had to transform Ryan to become his personal heartthrob, but Ben didn't need work. He was perfect already in Pete's eyes, which he would later find out is a very good thing.

The only problem for Pete on his mission to capture Ben's full attention could be the lead guitarist, Jordan Turner. He was thin, but so was Pete. He wore make up, so did Pete. He had that hair, so did Pete. He was also tall, which Pete was not. He also had Ben's feelings in the palm of his hand to do whatever he pleased with them. At the moment, with those feelings, they were stored in his heart for only him to have. Ben and Jordan had a rough relationship and that's what always kept them interested.

If Pete wanted Ben's feelings, he was going to have to grab Jordan's heart and squeeze them out like lemonade.

Aaron McKnight was the drummer and he didn't particularly like Pete. He found the older man fishy, suspicious, creepy, and made a point to always keep an eye on him, which didn't go unnoticed by Pete. "Do you have a problem with me?" the bassist asked after he dismissed the band from a practice he was observing. Of course, Aaron answered in his honest, blunt fashion, "I have a big problem with you." Pete wouldn't admit or show it, but Aaron kind of scared him. The guy played "World of Warcraft" and "Kingdom Hearts 2" for fun in his spare time. Something wasn't right in that boy's head.

Lastly but not leastly was the voice of the band, Tyler Carlson. The first time Ryan saw his bleached highlights and entrancing eyes, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. To go urinate, of course. Although he seemed like he would hold an animated personality, resembling Alex Gaskarth in an awkward way, he was the exact opposite. He kept to himself, barely uttered a hello when he first met Pete, and usually let his eyes meet the ground when talking to anyone. Pete found him strange and wondered if he played "World of Warcraft," too. Those "Warcraft" players lost braincells or something because Joe Trohman played and Pete had to observe the slow trainwreck of that.

Since Panic at the Disco had such great success with the circus theme, Pete decided that Mary's Lamb should have a theme, but not as dramatic to put off accusations they were being copycats. "Magic," he brought up to them when they had a break during recording. "Clear boxes that people go in and disappear, levitation, maybe some animals. Lights and sparkle, silver and black. Big stage production-I'm thinking a background with your name and random holes so people can poke through..."

Everyone was for it.

Of course, Pete told Ryan all about this sexy new act he caught himself over the phone one night. Ryan was happy for him. Not excited, ecstatic, or even jealous. Just happy. He figured that this band wouldn't go far because they were more on the younger side, like he once was, and were very clueless and naive, like he once was. He let Pete talk his ear off while he could since he knew this stupid Mary's Lamb would fade.

Boy, he was wrong.

A/N: i was going to make something like this into a standalone, but i got so caught up with ideas and...it would be a very, very, very long story.
also, it doesnt completely matter, but this is what i imagine mary's lamb to look like. it has nothing to do with the story, picture whoever you want, but thats that im picturing ;]
so...good/bad idea? im thinking it could go either way...

Tour Bus Orgy

2008-06-15T20:02:25Z

Title: Tour Bus Orgy
Pairings: [main] Ryan/William, [side] Butcher/Joe/Pete, Mike/Patrick, Brendon/Michael, Jon/Sisky, Andy/Spencer
Rating: R for sexual situations, drug and alcohol use, language
Summary: Everyone is horny on The Academy Is...'s bus and Ryan gets caught up in it.
Disclaimer: not true to my knowledge.

Pete grabbed Ryan's hand and dragged him on The Academy's bus. The second the door opened, obnoxious music filled both sets of ears, a reeking smell of alcohol stained their noses while illegal substances followed and seeped into their shirts.

When they showed themselves at the top of the stairs, Joe and Butcher spotted Pete and yelled him over. Pete patted Ryan's back lightly. "You gonna be okay?" he asked, eying the joint between Butcher's lips.

"I'm a grown boy, I can handle it," he laughed a little, watching Pete fall between the two on the couch while putting an arm around Butcher's waist.

Ryan scanned the room quickly for Patrick, since he knew singers couldn't drink too much. He wasn't in the mood for Brendon anymore. He got over the random, loud...loudness of the singer on the third day. Plus, Ryan wasn't one to drink his problems, or lack of, away.

He spotted Patrick, smiling a little before letting it slowly fall. The blonde was already occupied with a smoking Mike, pressed against the wall while he soaked in everything the brunette whispered in his ear.

Ryan felt a little perverted watching the two, deciding to just hang out with Spencer. Only...where was he? Creasing his eyebrows, he let his eyes examine every face in the room, no Spencer being present. Well, what the hell? Was he being emo a-fucking-gain?

"Ryan." The called looked around stupidly for two seconds before seeing William in the corner, staring at him.

Ryan smiled and walked over to him when he waved, careful not to step on any body parts or kick glasses over. He tripped on a shoe and landed right next to a smiling William. Blushing, he cleared his throat and straightened up.

William held a bottle out to him, lifting it a little when Ryan just blinked at it. When Ryan took it from him, he smiled a little wider as he watched the guitarist sniff it before taking a large gulp. He bit his lip when Ryan licked his lips and took another long sip.

Ryan knew what he was doing was stupid. He knew drinking was something for immature young adults to do to pretend they're cool and to blame any mistakes of the world on the fact they drank disgusting fluids. But William looked at Ryan with this strange...interest when he took a seat, and Ryan didn't want to disappoint him because, well, infatuations do that.

Ryan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before handing the bottle back and instantly getting lightheaded. "Are you supposed to be drinking?" he asked as he saw the bottle tip backwards into William's mouth.

Shrugging, William passed the bottle off and smacked his lips. "My voice is a gift of God. I couldn't kill it if I tried," he slurred, blinking slowly.

"How much did you have?" Ryan curiously asked, taking another swig.

William held up two fingers, then pointed at the bottle. As Ryan smirked, William sat up on his knees and threw his arms around the younger man's neck to kiss his cheek before sitting back down.

Ryan blushed a little and drank more, looking over his shoulder when he was tapped. In front of him was Sisky and Jon, holding onto each other tightly with only their boxers on. "Trade us?" Sisky asked, shoving a full, tall glass in Ryan's hand.

He smelled the top before taking a small sip, letting the bottle be taken away from him as he kept the glass to his mouth, still drinking.

William smiled and pulled Ryan closer, an arm going around the waist and up the back of his shirt.

Ryan looked at William, giggling quietly. "No more for you."

William shrugged and pulled out a small, tin container from his pocket. Ryan looked down at it as he flipped the lid off, a white powder inside it. He chuckled and scooped his pinky through it before placing it under his left nostril, inhaling deeply and sniffing a few a few times until his finger was clean.

He held the small box toward Ryan, who blinked at it just like he had the alcohol. "Won't I get a nosebleed?"

William shook his head. "Not this shit," he mumbled together, getting a pinch of powder on his pinky and holding it under Ryan's nose.

Ryan sniffed it hurriedly, coughing a few times before swallowing some liquid from the glass. "Shit," he panted, running a hand through his hair as...whatever it was did whatever it was supposed to do. Make him feel like he weighed two pounds and make the bus spin in brightness.

"Hmm." William pulled Ryan onto his lap and against his chest, kissing the side of his neck.

Ryan rested his head on William's shoulder as his neck and body tingled, shutting his eyes and sipping from the glass leisurely. "What...was..."

"Benzos," William exhaled, licking Ryan's neck.

"What...What is..." He opened his eyes and looked around the bus slowly with his lips slightly parted. There was no sound except the music that was still blaring from the front of the bus. All laughter, talking, singing, joy had been put on mute.

He looked at the front couch to see the three with their shirts in front of them on the ground. Pete was slouching with his head tilted back, joint between his lips as Butcher sucked his neck, a hand in the bassist's pants. Joe slid to the ground, helping Butcher tug Pete's pants off.

He moaned quietly when William sucked lightly, letting his eyes trail toward the bathroom where he saw Jon and Sisky tumble inside. As Jon turned to shut the door, he winked at Ryan and slammed it. No sound.

Next to the door was Patrick, who was still between the wall and Mike, his hat now on the other guitarist's head as fingers ran through his blonde hair. Mike's mouth was still next to the ear and his hips were lightly grinding against the other's.

He moaned a little louder as William bit down hard and Mike's hips moved faster. Who would've thought Mike had it in him?

"William...?" a voice said from in front of them, the lips stopping and both men looking up at Michael, who was completely naked with Brendon on his back, also appearing nude. "We'll...back room, so don't..."

William nodded understandably, watching as the two disappeared and quietly shut the door. He shut his eyes as he felt his shirt ride up and get taken off by soft, warm hands.

"Willllllllliaaaaaammmm," Ryan whined, kissing him sloppily yet lightly.

Somehow, clothes came off and William found his way on top of Ryan, their tongues between each other's lips and hips moving against Ryan's. He whimpered when William bit at his neck again, licking to his collarbone.

Ryan wasn't scared to move. He just...couldn't. His muscles shut off and only his voice was working. His brain stopped...when did it stop? And his heart was beating so loudly, so hard, but he couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel much except William.

"Should I ride or fuck you?" William whispered, his hips slowing down as he sat up.

"I...um..." Ryan shut his eyes, smiling wide at how his body felt and kept changing to make him giggle with surprise.

Impatient from no answer, William shoved himself inside Ryan, snapping the guitarist into reality. Sort of. He smirked evilly when Ryan shifted under him, not making a sound, but opening his eyes to stare right at the singer.

"I'm...weldigoheeeee."

"I know." William kissed Ryan again and slowly started thrusting, feeling the small whimpers through Ryan's tongue and into his mouth. He smiled and started to move faster, harder, wanting to be done with sex already and just drink a little more before falling asleep.

Sex seemed like a good idea about twenty seconds ago, but now that he was started, he didn't want to anymore.

Ryan, oh, he wanted it. He wanted it twenty seconds, twenty minutes ago. He tried to arch his back when William kissed his chest, but he couldn't. Why was this not as enjoyable as he thought in his head? He was being fucked and touched and...he let out a quiet moan, but it was louder in his head, too.

Was his head just messing with him? How silly.

Ryan, however, did damn near scream when William began to get angry at the lack of...cumage the guitarist was letting out and bit his neck hard, which caused him to release on both their stomachs and...he was not cleaning that up.

William wasn't too far behind, but he had to put images in his head to help out, since Ryan wasn't doing anything, the lazy fucker. He was so hot...an hour ago? Ten minutes ago? But, fuck, he sucked at bottoming.

William rolled onto the floor hard and panted quietly, trying to ignore the fact everyone was still making out and other various activities all around him. He wanted to drink...where did it go? He slowly sat up, but was instantly falling back down when Ryan fell on top of him. "What...hell..."

"Williaaaaaam," he giggled, kissing the singer lightly.

William turned his head and mumbled something about needing to drink more, Ryan should go away, Ryan was amazing, Ryan was an idiot, and how he just really wanted some more of what he had before-why did Sisky have to trade them just then?

Ryan glanced at the window and saw that the once black sky was now a dark blue. He put his face in William's neck and sucked lightly, giggling when a hand pressed his face closer to suck harder.

"God, Ryan," William whimpered. "Bus-your bus."

"Whyyyyyy?"

"Sleep...we sleep." William wrapped his arms around Ryan and slowly stood up, carrying him.

William glanced at everyone, seeing how he progressed compared to them. He saw Patrick and Mike naked, Patrick with his head tilted back as Mike's face hid in it. Patrick's mouth hung open as Mike thrusted into him, and William never saw Mike’s ass...look so hot.

Sisky stumbled out of the bathroom and crawled into his bunk, Jon following a few seconds after, glancing at William and saluting before crawling next to Sisky.

William slowly walked towards the door, glancing at the couch, where Pete and Joe were heavily making out, Pete on Joe’s lap. Butcher sat next to them, passed out. He lightly tapped the drummer’s feet, not getting a reaction. He kicked harder, causing him to stir and wake, looking at William through half-closed eyes. “Sleep, Panic’s bus?”

Butcher shook his head, looking at Joe and poking his arm, which made the two of them start kissing.

William sighed as Ryan wrapped his arms around his neck, turning the music of the radio down. “Hey, it’s getting light.”

Ryan nodded, putting his head on William’s shoulder. “Mhmm.”

William stepped off the bus into the freezing cold morning, hopping to the bus quickly when he realized he forgot shoes and the cement wasn’t the most comfortable thing. He felt Ryan shiver, kissing his forehead.

He tried to open the door, but it was locked. “What’s the code?”

“Hmmm...” Ryan shut his eyes and yawned.

William tapped Ryan’s face lightly. “Ry, what’s the number?”

“8...6-7-5...”

“3-0-9?” William finished, pressing the correct keys for the little green light to flash and pulled the door open.

Ryan shook his head, licking William’s neck. “No...”

William placed Ryan on the couch, playing with his hair and smiling a little. “Have fun?”

Ryan nodded, opening his eyes a little before shutting them. His breathing suddenly was quiet and steady, mouth parted.

William debated whether he wanted to go back to the bus, try to steal Joe for himself by bribing him, or to just stay here and sleep. He was too drugged to move.

He felt Ryan grab his hand and pull lightly, a quiet snore coming from him. Smiling, he sat and moved Ryan’s head onto his lap, slouching and shutting his eyes.

Spencer rolled out of his bunk and stretched, coughing a little before going in the main area to see William and Ryan dead asleep, smiling a little. He went back to his bunk quickly, poking Andy awake before going back to the two sleeping men. "Move them to his bunk because I think Bill's neck is gonna hurt in a few hours," Spencer whispered, Andy nodding.

Spencer lifted Ryan up as Andy grabbed William, both carefully kneeling and placing them in Ryan's bunk, shutting the curtain.

"That was so cute," Andy said quietly, the other drummer nodding and smiling. "Wanna go on our bus? I highly doubt anyone's on there."

Spencer nodded and grabbed Andy's hand, kissing his cheek with a smile.

Sometimes, stupid things are used as an excuse for bad things. But sometimes stupid things can be an reason for good ones.

Master Plan

2008-06-13T23:57:08Z

Title: Master Plan
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Rating: pg-13 for language.
Summary: AU. Brendon wants Ryan to jump out his second story window.
Disclaimer: not true.

It was one o’clock in the morning when Ryan heard something being thrown at his second story window of his room. At first, he figured it was the wind, pulling the comforter over his head as he snuggled close to it, but as soon as a large thunk hit the window, he opened his eyes with a groan and walked to the window, looking down to see his friend, Brendon. In his pajamas and bare feet.

Ryan unlocked the window catch and lifted it up, poking his head out into the chilly night. “Is there a reason you’re doing this?”

Brendon shrugged with a smile, motioning Ryan to come down.

The hesitant brunette bit the inside if his cheek, giving a small nod as he let the window stay open while he searched for a sweatshirt. Once he found a gray one, he put it over his white shirt and put sandals on his colorless feet. Sighing, he went back to the window, asking Brendon how he was supposed to get down without being heard, a smirk growing on the singer.

“Jump. Here, I’ll even catch you.” He positioned himself in the middle of Ryan’s front lawn, arms open and legs wide and bent. Ryan rose a reluctant eyebrow, Brendon sighing. “It’s me dude. Would I ever let you fall?”

“Yes,” the guitarist replied monotonously, staring at Brendon like he was some form of idiot. Hmm.

“Ryan, I really need you right now, there’s no reason as to why I would drop or syke you out.”

“Promise?” Brendon nodded, lifting his arms to show he was ready. Sighing, Ryan looked over his shoulder just in case someone randomly snuck into his room, but was reassured. He looked back down at Brendon, who was moving around like a video game character, trying to line up exactly where he thought Ryan was going to land. “What if in the off chance…you don’t catch me?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ryan, Jon isn’t this thoughtful.”

“Jon was dropped on his head one too many times when he was a baby.”

“I’m wandering aimlessly like an asshole in your yard, so you better fucking jump damn it.”

Ryan gave a laugh, putting one leg over the bottom, then the other to sit on the ledge, swinging his legs back and forth, exhilarated by the feeling of only air beneath him. And an oddly looking Brendon, but he cancelled that out. He put his hands on either side of his legs, grasping the window edge tightly.

Taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes, he pushed himself off and expected a hard hit to the dirt in the one second he was falling, but was proved wrong when he felt a warm body pressed against him.

Opening an eye and looking around, he opened both to see himself on top of a laughing Brendon, who had his arms secured around Ryan’s waist.

“Wasn’t too horrible, was it?”

Ryan blushed at the comment and realization of how he was on Brendon, jumping up quickly and wiping dirt and grass off his body as the bassist did the same. “I suppose not. Now, what was it that you needed?”

Brendon looked around suspiciously, grabbing Ryan’s hand as he did so and pulled him closer. “Secret business.”

Groaning, Ryan shut his eyes lightly. “Please tell me you did not wake me up and almost kill myself because you have a ridiculous plan that could’ve waited until the morning.”

“It is morning. And you didn’t almost kill yourself. I caught you.”

Ryan narrowed his eyebrows, glaring at Brendon as he opened his eyes. “This is going to be a ridiculous plan, isn’t it?”

Brendon pulled Ryan with him as he walked down the sidewalk, keeping their hands together. Ryan was too tired to have any thoughts, but Brendon made up for that by having ideas float scramble around his head. “Do I ever have stupid ideas?”

“You don’t want me to answer that…”

Brendon gave a chuckle, turning to Ryan with a smile before looking back in front of them as he kept leading the way to somewhere. After a very long twenty minutes, they approached their destination to have Ryan laugh as Brendon stared at his friend blankly. “What’s so damn funny?”

Ryan shook his head, looking back at the house they were in front of, then resumed his laughing, not noticing Brendon’s mildly hurt expression. When he did notice, however, he muffled his laughs somewhat while asking the question, “Why are…we…just why?”

“I don’t see what’s all that funny,” Brendon answered in all honestly, Ryan laughing harder.

“You…fucktard, I hate you.”

They were standing in the yard of none other than the Ross residence. They walked in a circle, or square if you wish to get technical, turning this way and that until they came to the exact same spot they started.

“Brendon, what was the point in this?”

“I got to walk with you in our pajamas at night while holding hands. Is that not a good enough reason?”

“…In one in the morning, that’s debatable.”

Brendon quickly turned to Ryan and kissed him on the lips lightly, threading his fingers through the brown hair to push harder and kiss intensely. Ryan whimpered, bringing a shaky hand to Brendon’s cheek and letting is rest loosely.

Brendon pulled away, gave one more little kiss before opening his eyes to meet with Ryan’s. “How was this not worth it?”

“You could’ve kissed me tomorrow-later today.”

Brendon gave a shrug, looking to Ryan’s room’s open window. “I couldn’t wait that long. Say, how are you going to get back in?”

Ryan hummed, grasping Brendon’s hand tighter. “Was this part of your stupid plan?”

“I told you, I have no plan. I never do…”

Ryan rolled his eyes as Brendon began walking again, this time down a familiar route to the singer's house.

The Loving Dead [8]

2008-06-11T18:33:40Z

Title: The Loving Dead [8]
Pairing: Ryan Ross/Edward Cullen
Rating: PG
Summary: Edward Cullen is a vampire that develops feelings on a human named Ryan Ross.\
Disclaimer: edward belongs to mrs. meyer and i only the plot and the plot alone.
Note: short. again. not too sweet. more sour.

Ryan pulled in the driveway, the clock blinking 10:01 and the sky an off gray from the dense clouds to hide the almost full moon and stars. It was still raining, but not as relentless as when we left the theatre. Yeah, we pretty much made out for most of the half hour we were in the truck, but I pulled back and struck up a conversation about the movie. Ryan went along with it. "So," he started as I turned towards him, "I had a whole lot of fun tonight...with you."

I smiled a little and nodded. "I had an amazing time also, which was mostly because of you."

Ryan laughed quietly, looking down at his lap. "Um. Are you...doing anything tomorrow?" I shook his head, unbuckling the seat belt. "Would you wanna get lunch?" he hurriedly asked, biting his lip and contemplating if he was pushing his luck.

I ran through a million thoughts in my head as fast as I could so it didn't seem rude or obvious to Ryan. Carlisle made things pretty clear, Alice decided who's team she was on, Ryan outweighed them both, I'd just make up an excuse. "Yes," I whispered, "I'd like that."

"Great," Ryan squeaked excitedly, leaning over to kiss me very lightly and quickly on the lips. "I'll get you at-"

"Actually," I interrupted, opening the car door a crack, "I'll meet you. Where did you wanna go?"

Ryan slowly shook his head with a smile. "I have no idea. Let's just meet at the diner and we'll decide there. Or I could call you-"

"Diner." I nodded, hopping out. "Sounds good. Noon okay?" Ryan nodded and the door slammed shut as he watched me run to the patio, disappearing inside.

The living room and kitchen was empty, which I thanked God for. I made my way to the stairs after kicking my shoes off, but was grabbed on the elbow again. I turned to see Emmett with a smug look on his face. "I'm really tir-"

"We're camping," he interrupted, pulling me back towards the door I came in from.

I shook my head and stopped my feet, which caused him to stop walking and glare at me. "That's not until Tuesday."

"It's moved ahead." I looked at the top of the stairs to see Alice, glaring at me with her arms wrapped around her stomach. "You needn't forget that Alice knows everything that happens and is going to happen."

I tightened my lips as I was continually dragged outside and thrown into the back seat of the car, Carlisle in the front seat as Emmett sat next to him. I turned around to see the headlights of Ryan's truck drive off, cursing inwardly. This was just stupid. And bad. For me and him.

"Have a nice hanging out?" I stared at him from the rear view mirror, then out the window as he drove down our long driveway. "I expected you home sooner."

"The rain is horrible," I dully replied, "and his truck isn't the most reliable one in the world."

Carlisle stiffened his jaw and pressed on the gas pedal more. "We had a family meeting at nine and we all came to an accordance. Since you were not present, your opinion will not matter."

My mouth dropped as my eyebrows creased. "That isn't even fair-I wasn't aware of-"

"If you weren't out running around with humans, then you would have been there," Emmett commented, Carlisle making a noise of agreement.

"It still isn't fair," I slowly said, my temper kicking in as Carlisle hydroplaned down the road at an incredible speed.

No one came back with anything and we were silent for a very long while. Carlisle was grasping the steering wheel tightly and not due to the weather and Emmett was messing with the radio after every single song. I rubbed the bridge of my nose, knowing exactly what they were doing. Who didn't know? I made plans, it'll look like I stood him up, he'll get mad, want nothing with me anymore, the end, they win.

My stomach twisted and it wasn't the fact I was standing him up. He liked me, truly liked me, and we made an arrangement to meet and I won't be there. He'll be hurt, think I was just messing around with him and too good for him. He'll think I'm a terrible person, oh God.

I put my hands over my face as thoughts of him went on repeat. Him slapping me Monday morning because if I wasn't there Monday, he could excuse it as something just coming up with me.

"Carlisle, think of what you're doing to him," I broke the silence, rubbing my fingers in my eyes. "Think of the pain you're going to cause him."

"Pain?" he repeated in a mock tone. "You're just friends and friends get three strikes, don't they? You'll have two more." My stomach turned some more. He was being so heartless, no pun intended, and for one of the few times in my existence, he felt like an actual parent.

I hated it. And I hated him right at his moment.