Current mood:	cheerful
Current music:	the starting line.

Don't You Float Away. [1/2.]
Title: Don't You Float Away. [Standalone.]
Author: trishapocalypse/causticmayhemx
Pairing: Ryan Ross//Brendon Urie.
Rating: NC17.
Words: 5345.
Summary: [AU.] After Ryan Ross gets the scare of his life, he knows that some good has to come out of the situation. And there is, in the form of Brendon Urie.
Disclaimer: I simply use their names, the personalities, dialogues, and storyline within this are the product of my imagination. Therefore: this = fake.
Dedication: The Starting Line. Thank you for being amazing musicians.<3
A/N: Enjoy. =] [Also, for anyone interested, I have started the sequel to Burning Bridges and it is in my journal, if you want to read. *nudge* ]

PART ONE:

Don't You Float Away.



"Spencer, c'mon, I gotta take you home," Ryan sighed, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor.

Spencer laughed, taking another drink from the red plastic cup. "Ryan, come on, loosen the fuck up-- It's barely midnight."

"I'm supposed to be home by one."

"I'm sure your parents won't mind if you're a little bit late," Spencer said. "Live a little, have a drink."

"I'm driving, Spencer, I'm not going to drink," Ryan said, crossing his arms. "Let's go. I hate driving at night."

"You didn't have to agree to coming, you know."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "I know, Spencer. It was my choice, blah blah. But seriously, Spencer, if we don't leave in ten minutes, you're going to either find a new way home or pass out here-- I don't care, I'm out in ten," he said, turning around and walking through the living room, pushing past anyone in his way, and he sat down on the chair closest to the front door. He glanced down at his watch and sighed-- He really needed to get headed home. Ten minutes later, exactly, Spencer stumbled over to his friend, nearly tripping. "You ready?"

Spencer laughed, nodding. "Yeah, let's get out of here."

"All right," Ryan said, digging his car keys out of his pocket and walking out to his car. He climbed behind the wheel, Spencer nearly falling into the seat next to him, laughing, and shutting the door.

"Your car is a piece of shit, Ryan."

"Okay."

"Don't be so uptight, Jesus," Spencer groaned, slouching down in the seat. "You need some excitement in your life, you know that, right?"

"I have excitement in my life."

"Taking shirtless pictures of yourself for MySpace does not count," he said, laughing.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Spencer," he said, turning onto Spencer's street. "I should've let you walk home," he grumbled.

"But then. If I got kid-lapped. You would've been sad," Spencer smiled.

"Sure." Ryan pulled to a stop in front of Spencer's house. "Have a nice hangover."

Spencer leaned over and kissed Ryan's cheek. "Thank you for dropping me off!"

"Yeah, yeah."

Spencer climbed out of the car, waving goodbye to Ryan and slammed the car door shut.

Ryan watched him skip up to his front door and drove away only once Spencer was inside. He rolled his eyes and pulled into the next driveway, turning around, and getting back on the main road. He turned his music up, feeling his hands shake a little bit-- He really hated driving at night, especially alone. He sent a worried look to the bar on his right and he felt himself subconsciously speed up a little bit, passing it quickly. He looked briefly in his rearview mirror, confused when he saw a single motorcycle following closely behind him.

He sped up a little bit more, tying to take his mind off of it, and he turned right at the lights. He looked back up to his mirror, noticing the person was still following him, and he felt his heart rate speed up a little bit. He slowly reached into his pocket for his cell phone, setting it on his lap as he made the left, the person still following him. He reached over to turn his music off and he picked up his phone, calling his father. After a few rings, his father answered, voice thick with sleep.

"Dad?"

"Ryan?"

"Someone's following me," he said, trying to push the fear out of his voice and failing. "I don't know who it is. I-- I dropped off a friend and this guy's been following me for ten minutes now."

"Maybe he's just going the same route as you. Where are you?"

"Um..." He sighed, he knew he shouldn't have taken Spencer home. If his parents found out, he knew they'd be mad. "Uh, I just passed a Krogers, I'm about fifteen minutes away."

"Which Krogers?"

"Um, the one south of us," he said. "Dad, he's still following me," he said, getting even more worried, as he made a left at the light.

"Ryan, just calm down. You're on a busy road, he's probably not even following you."

"I don't believe that, dad," he said, looking ahead and finding a small subdivision, one house with the lights on. "I have to call the cops."

"Ryan--"

"No, dad, he's following me!" he yelled, pulling into the subdivision and driving up to the house with the lights on. He threw his seat belt off and threw the car in park, jumping out and running up to the door, the motorcycle following him. He dropped his phone without realizing it, banging on the door, looking behind him every second to see the man still following him. "Open up! Please!" he screamed, about to cry, the man walked closer. The door flew open and he ran in, slamming it behind him and collapsing against it. "Thank you," he said quietly, to the woman who had opened the door.

"Who are you? Are you okay?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Call the cops, please," he said quickly, turning to look out of the peep hole to see the man standing there.

"You have to come out some time, little boy! You can't stay in your house forever!"

"Oh my God, he can see me," he whispered to himself. "I need my phone. I need my phone," he repeated, searching his pockets. "Oh God, it's out there."

"It's okay, it's okay," the woman said, kneeling in front of him. "Brendon, get the phone," she told him. "What's your name?"

"I don't. He's out there. He's. I don't know who he is. Is he still there?" he asked, whimpering.

She nodded, barely glancing out the window. "He is, yes. What's your name?"

"Here's the phone, mom."

"Thank you."

"Ry-Ryan."

"Ryan?"

He nodded. "Yes. Ryan. I'm Ryan."

She smiled. "I'm going to call for help now, Ryan, okay?"

He nodded again.

"I'm gonna go make sure the twins didn't wake up," Brendon said, running up the stairs.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I messed up your night," Ryan said. "Here-- I can-- I can call the cops if you want..."

"It's okay, just take a deep breath," she said, dialing the number.

It took ten minutes for someone to believe her, another ten to tell them where she lived, and ten more minutes until Ryan heard sirens. He glanced out the window, seeing the lights in the distance, and he saw the man jump back on his motorcycle and drive away. He groaned and hit his head against the window.

"He's gone. He heard the sirens and he left," he whined. "They're not going to believe me."

She rested a hand on his shoulder. "Yes, they will. Do you want to call your parents?"

He nodded. "My dad knows but I-- I dropped my phone out there and," he sighed, opening the door slowly, glancing around to make sure the man was gone, and his eyes fell on his phone on the ground. He kneeled down, picking it up. "He broke my phone."

"Come on inside, Ryan," she said gently as the cops pulled into the driveway.

"Okay," he said quietly, allowing the woman to lead him into the kitchen and he sat down in one of the chairs. "What's your name?"

"Linda Urie," she said. "I'm going to go get the cops, you just rest, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you."

He sat there silently for a minute, hearing Mrs. Urie in the distance talking to the cops, and he heard someone walk down the stairs. His head snapped towards the sound, and he froze in place a little bit.

"Hey, you. You doin okay?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"I'm Brendon," he introduced himself, holding out a hand.

Ryan took it slowly. "Ryan. I'm. Sorry for...all of this."

"Eh, don't worry about it. We're Mormon, we need excitement," he laughed.

Ryan smiled, barely, "I just--"

"Ryan, this is Officer Brown, he'd like to ask you a few questions," Mrs. Urie said, walking into the kitchen.

"Can I call my parents first?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Okay, thank you." He took the phone Mrs. Urie was handing him, setting his broken Sidekick down, and he quickly dialed his number. "Dad?"

"Ryan? Where the hell are you? Are you okay? Why did you hang up on me? All I heard was screaming."

"I'm okay, dad," he said. "Um, I found a house. And the family let me in, there's a cop here right now. I need you to come here, though. Please. I'm scared and my cell is broken to pieces and--"

"I'll be there. Where are you?"

"I don't-- I don't know. I'll give the phone to Mrs. Urie, she can tell you," he said, handing the phone out to her. "Can you give him directions, please?"

"Of course, Ryan. Brendon, give them privacy," she ordered.

"It's okay," he said. "I mean. He'll find out anyway," he shrugged.

"Only if you're sure," she said, taking the phone and walking into the other room.

"Okay, Ryan, tell me everything that happened," the Officer asked, sitting down across from him."

Ryan nodded, clearing his throat. "Okay. Um. I was. I left a party I was at with my friend, Spencer-- I didn't drink, don't worry, I've never had alcohol-- I'll take a breathalyzer if you want me to--"

"It's okay, son, just continue," he said.

"Okay. Right. Okay. Um, I dropped him off at home, and I wasn't supposed to, my parents didn't want me to but he lived two blocks away so I did. And I went back out to the main road, since I live like ten minutes away. And I passed this bar and this guy on a motorcycle pulled out behind me. I didn't think much of it, I mean, people leave...places. And he kept making every turn I made. I would speed up a bit and he would, too. And it got me really worried, so I called my dad, and he said he probably wasn't following me, but I couldn't shake that feeling, you know?

"So. So I looked around and I saw this house, this subdivision, and this house was the only one with a light on, so I took my chances. I pulled in, threw the car in park and ran to the door. My car-- Fuck, it's still running," he groaned. "God. I dropped my phone, and I was still on the line with my dad, and I pounded on the door, screaming, and they opened it and I ran in. And the guy was still following me, running after me. And he said something, something like I couldn't stay inside forever and he was. He broke my phone, stepped on it, I don't know. And I-- She. Mrs. Urie called you," he explained.

"Did you notice anything about the man?"

He shook his head. "No. No, I think he was drunk. And. It's dark," Ryan said. "It's almost one, you know? So um. There's no...sun," he shook his head.

"Here, drink this," Brendon said, placing a glass of water in front of him.

"Thank you," he said quietly, taking a big gulp as Mrs. Urie walked back into the room.

"Your father is on his way, Ryan. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you," he said, setting the glass down.

"Do you remember anything else?"

Ryan sighed. "Um. I think he. I think he had a mustache, and his hair was dark. He was bigger. Blue jean jacket and jeans, boots, usual drunk biker gear," he laughed. "That was lame, I'm sorry."

Brendon laughed.

"Brendon!" his mother snapped.

"Sorry, mom," he said quietly, looking down.

Ryan smiled a bit. "Um. That's. That's all I remember. I'm sorry. Oh. Um. The engine was really, really loud. And I know that, like, some motorcycles aren't as loud? That's what my dad says, I mean. He has a Harley, I think, and it's as loud as that. I couldn't tell the color though," he scratched at the back of his neck.

"It's okay, Ryan," the Officer said, jotting down everything he said. "Did you happen to see which way he left?"

"Um. To the left. To the left," Ryan said, "and um. Not like that Beyonce song."

Brendon laughed again.

"Brendon!"

"Sorry!" Brendon said. "It was funny, jeeze."

"So...north?" the Officer asked.

"Yes! That!" Ryan said. "Yes. North. Sorry. I'm not the best with...the north and stuff."

"Okay, I'll let you know if we find anything. Do you have a number we can contact you at?"

Ryan sent a wistful look to his broken cell phone and rattled off his home number as there was a knock on the door. "Is that my dad? Please let that be my dad."

"I'll go check, honey," Mrs. Urie said, walking over to the door.

Ryan peered around the corner, seeing his father and he ran over to him, hugging him. He didn't care that he was eighteen and was supposed to be a tough boy, not needing his father, but he did. "I'm sorry, dad."

"Don't be sorry," his father said, pulling away from his son slowly. He walked over to the Officer, sticking out his hand. "George Ross."

"Officer Brown. I just finished talking to your son. He gave me your number and I'll get back to you if we find anything out," he explained.

"Okay, thank you, Officer." Mr. Ross sat down at the table.

"I'm sorry, dad," Ryan repeated, hugging his arms to his chest.

"Don't be," he repeated. "I'm sorry about this, Mrs...?"

"Urie, Linda," she said. "And it's okay, Mr. Ross, really. When I heard the knocking and screaming, I couldn't ignore it. I just wish they would've caught the guy before he ran."

Ryan sat down again, in front of his battered cell and the glass of water Brendon got him. He took another drink, setting the glass down loudly. "I'm sorry for ruining your night, Mrs. Urie. I just didn't know what else to do."

"It's okay, Ryan, really, don't worry about it," she told him.

"Listen to my mom, Ryan-- She's Mormon. She wouldn't turn you away," Brendon said.

Ryan laughed.

"Brendon!"

"I know, I know," Brendon said. "Sorry."

"Get to bed, boy, it's late and you have youth tomorrow," she told him.

Brendon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. G'night mom. G'night Mr. Ross, Ryan," he said, sending Ryan a smile, before heading upstairs.

"I'm going to get him home now," Mr. Ross said. "Thank you for your help."

"Yeah, we'll send you a...fruit basket," Ryan said.

Even in the distance, he heard Brendon start laughing.

"Brendon!" his mother yelled.

"Sorry!"

Mrs. Urie shook his head. "That boy does not know how to contain himself."

Ryan smiled a bit. "It's all right, Mrs. Urie. Thank you again."

"Stop thanking me," she said, smiling. "You rest tonight, okay? Take some Advil and just rest."

"Okay, I will. Th--"

"Don't," she laughed.

"Okay," Ryan nodded. "You sleep well, too. I hope I didn't wake anyone else in your family."

"Don't worry about it."

"Thank you, Mrs. Urie," his father thanked her, shaking her hand again, before leading Ryan out to his car. He leaned in, turning Ryan's car off, grabbing the keys. "Get everything out of your car. We'll come to pick it up tomorrow."

"All right," Ryan said, getting his jacket from the back and his book bag. He locked the doors and shut up his car, taking the keys his father was handing to him, sticking them in his pocket. "Thank you for coming to get me, dad."

"You're my son, what else would I do? I'm just glad you're okay," he said, climbing in his own car as Ryan got into the passengers seat, buckling up.

"I was so scared."

His father reached a hand over, patting his shoulder. "It's okay, son. You're fine. They'll find the guy. Let's just get you home so you can rest."

Ryan nodded, resting his head on the seat, and he drifted off within thirty seconds.

****



The next afternoon, Ryan and his father climbed back in their car, heading back over to the Uries. His father dropped him off, Ryan slowly climbed out of the car, walking up to the door, fixing his hat and blocking his eyes from the harsh sunlight. He took a deep breath and knocked on it again, suddenly nervous and he didn't know why. When the door opened and Brendon stood there smiling, he knew why.

"Hi."

"Hi," Brendon said. "I almost didn't recognize you without some guy chasing you."

Ryan laughed. "Too soon."

He shrugged. "True. So... What's up?"

"Um. I was going to get you guys a muffin basket. But I don't know where to get one. So i was thinking flowers. But I don't know your address. so..." Ryan trailed off. "Flowers are kinda fruity, huh?"

Brendon laughed; Ryan's stomach twisted. "It's not...that fruity."

Ryan smiled. "Good. What's your mom's favorite flower?"

"Daisies, I think," Brendon said.

"Brendon? Who's at the door?"

"It's Ryan."

Mrs. Urie walked around the corner, smiling. "Oh, hello dear!"

Ryan smiled. "Hi, Mrs. Urie."

"What brings you out here? Hopefully not another stalker..."

He laughed. "No, thank God. I was picking up my car and I just. Thought I'd say hello."

"Well, it's good to see you, in better circumstances in this."

"Yes, well, I will find a way to repay you for your kindness. I will. Most people would've turned me away, thank you so much."

"Yeah, well, we're Mormon," Brendon shrugged.

Ryan laughed again.

Mrs. Urie rolled her eyes again. "Aren't you supposed to be at youth?"

"Jon couldn't pick me up; he's sick," Brendon said, shrugging.

"I could. I could drop him off," Ryan suggested. "It's the least I could do..."

"That would be great! Thank you, Ryan," Mrs. Urie smiled. "Have a good time, Brendon, dinner's at six."

"Kay, love you, mom," he said, leading Ryan out of the house, quickly. "Damn. Nice car."

"Oh, thank you," Ryan flushed slightly, digging his keys out of his pocket and unlocking his car doors, getting in behind the wheel. "It was a graduation slash birthday gift from my parents."

Brendon sat down in the passengers seat, buckling up. "Well. It's nice. And red. Red cars are hot."

"I agree," Ryan said, starting up the car and backing out of the driveway. "So um. Am I taking you to a church or...?"

"You're not taking me to youth," Brendon said, reaching down to mess with the stereo.

"I'm. I'm not?"

Brendon laughed. "Fuck no. Let's just hang out. I don't have to be back until six."

"Oh. Um."

"I mean, you're free, right? You don't have anything else going on? If you do, you can just like. Drop me off somewhere and get going," he shrugged.

Ryan shook his head. "No. No, I'm free. I don't. Nothing else is going on. I mean, I have a paper due Monday but I'm almost done with it, that won't take long so I can do it tomorrow. So. Um. Yeah."

Brendon smiled, looking over at Ryan. "Tell me something about yourself."

"Okay. Um. I feel really weird driving this car right now and I'm constantly looking in the rear view mirror to make sure I'm not being followed," Ryan said, laughing slightly.

"Understandable," he nodded. "Something else."

"Um. Like what?" Ryan asked looking over at him briefly before looking away.

Brendon shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well. Um."

"You say 'um' a lot," Brendon noted.

Ryan laughed a bit, slightly uncomfortable. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I'm not the best at speaking, I prefer to write, and I used to have a speech impediment and it surfaces every now and then."

"That's cute."

He flushed. "Um. Yeah, sure," he laughed a bit. "So um. I graduated last year, so I'm in my first year of college."

"What are you majoring in?"

"I'm not sure yet. I know it's going to be something concerning English and writing. I want to be a novelist, actually," he told him. "I've been writing for a long time and I'm. I'd like to think I'm pretty good at it."

"I bet you are. You have the writer look to you," Brendon said.

Ryan smiled. "A writer look? What is that, exactly?"

"You seem very...angsty and brooding."

"Do you mean writer look or emo look?"

Brendon laughed. "Well, they're kind of the same thing."

His smile widened. "I would agree if I wrote angsty poetry. Yet, I do no-- Okay, I do. Sometimes! I admit, I admit. But I think every teenager has the right to do that considering the teenage years are terrible. Wouldn't you say?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. My teenage years have been pretty great. Great family, great friends, great everything. Except my love life but, I mean, look at me," he laughed. "The red glasses don't turn the cute people on."

"I think they're endearing," Ryan said quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing. What do you. Want to do? I mean, you have like five hours before you have to get home," Ryan said awkwardly.

"We could make out."

Ryan slammed on the brakes. "What?!"

Brendon laughed. "Chill out, dude. You're acting really weird. I was only kidding."

Ryan cleared his throat. "I know you were."

"Look at me."

"I gotta watch the road."

"We're at a red light, Ryan, look at me."

Ryan bit his lip, looking over at him.

Brendon smiled. "Relax. I'm sure you're probably still a bit shaken up from last night but I'm not going to chase you and shit, okay?"

He nodded. "I know you won't. I'm just. This is all Spencer's fault, really," he said.

"Spencer?"

"My stupid drunk ass friend. I had to take him home last night and that's the only reason I passed the bar. If he wasn't such an ass, I wouldn't have been in that mess," he ranted.

"True, but you also would not have met the raddest Mormon this side of the Mississippi."

"Who's that?" Ryan asked, smiling.

Brendon laughed. "Me, of course."

"Of course," he agreed, pulling into a Waffle House. "Hope you like waffles."

"Who doesn't?"

****



"No way, dude, I do not believe that."

"It's true!" Brendon protested. "I swear it is!"

"You shouldn't swear, Brendon. It's like. Against the Mormon Code of Conduct or something," Ryan told him.

Brendon laughed. "I'm not swearing or lying. It happened!"

"Proof."

"What?"

"I want proof. Facts. Pictures. Documentation," he clarified.

"It was two years ago! I don't have pictures!"

Ryan shrugged. "Then I guess I do not believe you."

"Oh, you ass! I'm Mormon-- Why would I lie?"

"Maybe...because you're Mormon?"

Brendon smiled. "I promise you that Jon and I egged the church. Why would I lie about this?"

"To seem all tough and hardcore," Ryan said.

He paused. "Okay, good point. But! I'm not! You can ask Jon. We did it at, like, four am on a Sunday morning so when my family and I headed to church, ha, man, it was hilarious. No one knew what happened," Brendon said.

"Maybe. Okay, maybe. How about this. Maybe you and Jon just had the exact same dream at the exact same time, therefore leading the both of you to believe you egged the church when, in fact, you did not. How about that?"

Brendon just looked at Ryan for a moment, who looked more serious than he had ever seen him, before he busted out laughing.

****



"So how freaked out was your family last night after I left?" Ryan asked quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he and Brendon walked through town.

Brendon shrugged. "I wasn't that freaked. I mean, I was because some guy was like randomly outside our house screaming at you. But, I mean, you're fine. And that's good. And he got away, which is bad. I just hope he doesn't come back," he laughed.

"Shit, I didn't even think about that," he groaned. "I'm sorry, you know? Dragging you and your family into this. I keep, like. I keep looking over my shoulder, thinking he's following me, still. Which would be terrifying. And I can't even protect myself because a strong wind could blow me over."

Brendon laughed. "Would it blow you all the way to Canada?"

"I don't think so. I mean, unless it was a hurricane force wind," Ryan said thoughtfully. "Canada's pretty far away. I might get as far as like. Salt Lake or...Idaho. Depending on which way the wind blows, maybe even Oregon."

He smiled. "Well, you could go on the real Oregon Trail."

"Yeah, hopefully I wouldn't die of dysentery this time," he grinned.

"I don't think you would. I mean, modern medicine is pretty damn amazing. Is dysentery even around still?"

Ryan shrugged. "In order to answer that, I'd have to know what dysentery is."

"I think it's, like. I don't know, really," he laughed. "Wow, the Nevada education system is failing if I don't even know what dysentery is."

"Or maybe--"

"If you say I'm an idiot, I really will cry."

Ryan shut up.

****



"A disease characterized by severe diarrhea with a passage of mucus and blood and usually caused infection. That's what Merriam Webster Online says."

"Who is this?"

Brendon rolled his eyes. "Brendon. Jeeze, it's four in the afternoon. Were you seriously sleeping, Ryan?"

"How the hell did you get my number?"

"I have my ways, mister."

"Which include...?"

"Being awesome and finding things out," he said simply. "C'mon, get your butt out of bed. Come pick me up-- I'm bored as hell."

"Am I your personal driver or something?"

"Yes."

"I'll be there in thirty. Jeeze, you're demanding."

Brendon laughed. "True. I'll see you then, Ry," he said, hanging up. When the doorbell rang thirty two minutes later, Brendon ran over to it, screaming to whoever was home that he had it, and threw the door open. "Two minutes late."

Ryan rolled his eyes, pulling his had further down. "Don't even. I'm right on time. Your clock is just ahead."

"How convenient for you."

"God is just on my side," he shrugged.

Brendon smiled. "I'll be home for dinner!" he yelled, hoping his mother heard him, before he walked outside, shutting the door, and skipping over to Ryan's car. "Can we go to the mall? I need new shoes."

Ryan just shook his head. "It's too early for the mall."

"No, it's not."

"Well, I was up all night studying, then I crashed after my exam so yeah, it's early."

"Right, your exam! How was it? How'd you do? Did you ace it? I bet you did."

"I hope I did," Ryan said, beginning to drive to the closest mall. "I did my best, anyway. I swear, if I have to write one more essay on Kohlberg's theory of moral reasoning or Jean Piaget, I will kill myself."

"No, don't do that. Who would drive me around?" Brendon asked.

Ryan smiled despite himself.

****



"Did you actually look up dysentery?"

Brendon laughed, "I did. I asked my English teacher if she knew what it was and she didn't. So I looked it up online and called you."

"And woke me up."

"And woke you up, yes. See, that was my master plan all along."

"Really now?"

"Yes. And I won."

Ryan shook his head. "How did you get my number? And none of that 'I have my ways' shit."

He laughed. "Jon is friends with Spencer."

"Fucking Spencer," he groaned.

"I thought he was your friend."

"He is. But he makes me mad sometimes."

Brendon smiled. I was just going to ask for it on Saturday but I thought that might be creepy since we just became friends."

"We're friends?"

Brendon rolled his eyes and hit Ryan's arm. "Yes."

"Since when?"

"Since some crazy man chased you and you ended up at my house," Brendon said.

"Well, I must admit, your Mormon jokes might have something to do with it..."

****



"What do you think about these jeans?" Ryan asked, holding up a pair of dark blue jeans.

Brendon surveyed them for a minute. "I'd have to see them on you before I make a final judgment," he said, winking.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "I always try them on."

"Good."

"You're odd," he said, laughing slightly, walking over to the dressing room.

"You love it."

"If you say so," Ryan told him, shutting the door.

"Done yet?"

"No."

"Done yet?"

"No."

"Done yet?"

"No."

Brendon paused. "How about now?"

"Dammit, Brendon, my pants are still on," Ryan said, trying to be mad but laughing instead.

Brendon paced in front of the door, knocking on it at random intervals. "Hurry up."

Ryan just shook his head, sliding off his jeans and the new pair, looking at himself in the mirror.

"Done yet?"

"Yes."

"Then get out here!"

Ryan groaned, opening the door anyway. "I hate shopping with you already."

Brendon laughed, grabbing Ryan's hand and pulling him over to the three way mirrors. "Damn boy."

Ryan rolled his eyes, turning around and looking at the pants from every angle. "I don't know."

"Look in the mirror," Brendon instructed. Ryan did and Brendon rested a hand on his hip, eyeing him up and down. He leaned in, pressing his lips against the side of Ryan's. "They'll do," he said, tapping Ryan's butt and walking away.

Ryan stood there for a minute, stunned, before slowly walking back into the fitting room, changing back into his normal jeans. He slid his shoes back on, picking up the jeans and resting them over his arm. He walked out of the fitting room, looking around for Brendon and spotting him by a jeans rack. "Why-- Why-- Why did you do that?"

Brendon smiled, shrugging slightly. "It. It seemed like the right time."

"But. Why? I mean, you don't know if I'm gay or straight or bi or asexual or--"

"Ryan. Calm down. It won't happen again if you don't want it to," Brendon said easily.

"But. I. I don't know if I do," Ryan looked down, scratching at the back of his neck.

Brendon touched his shoulder. "Ryan. That's fine. Don't feel uncomfortable or anything, okay?

"But."

"Seriously. It's fine."

"You. You're gay?"

He shrugged. "Bi, I mean, I find girls attractive. But, boys more so. Especially you. You're very attractive."

Ryan blushed. "Thank you."

"For what it's worth, I'm glad that guy was chasing you," Brendon said, looking up at him and smiling. "Otherwise we never would've met. And I'm glad we have."

Ryan leaned in and kissed his cheek, backing away quickly, messing with his hands. "That's. That's all I can give you right now."

Brendon smiled wider. "It's worth it."

****



"So where were you earlier?"

Ryan took the dishes his father was handing him and set them out on the table. "I was hanging out with Brendon."

"Brendon?"

"Mhmm. Mrs. Urie's son, the boy... Yeah," he laughed. "I fail at explaining, sorry. Was I out too late?"

"No, I was just curious. So you two are friends now?"

"Apparently," Ryan said, taking the silverware from him and setting up the table. "When's mom getting home?"

"Fifteen minutes. Thanks for helping me with this," his dad smiled.

Ryan shook his head. "No problem. It's your anniversary, I don't mind helping."

"Well, thank you anyway."

"You're welcome," he said, flattening the napkins and lighting the candles. "Okay. I'm done here. I'm gonna head on up to my room, work on my psych notes and start my next essay."

"Good luck," his father said, hugging his son quickly.

Ryan smiled, nodding, and he headed up the stairs to his room, shutting the door. He collapsed on his bed, unable to find the energy to grab his books and work on his notes like he told his father he would. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, unable to remove the thought of Brendon from his mind. And it terrified him that he knew the exact reason why.



part two.