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fics_by_mapleLike Vines and Noodle Salad
Part 3
Part 2
~^~
The doorbell rang just as Jon pushed his hands into a t-shirt. It was dark blue and the most not-old one that he had so he figured it would do. He'd also taken the time to trim his beard and was now running late.
He trotted down the stairs and Brendon waved at him through the frosted glass, and that was all it took for solid ground to slip from underneath him. He missed the last step and tumble-slid-flumped onto the wooden floor.
He was laughing, if slightly out of breath, at the ceiling when Brendon stood over him. "Jesus Christ, you're a menace!" His high eye-browed concern broke into cautious laughter with Jon. "And people say I'm a disaster waiting to happen."
Jon took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his ass and elbow, and wondered how pink his face was. "I know, I know." He accepted Brendon's hand and let him haul him to his feet. "Sometimes my feet just don't … and I …" Jon lost all train of thought as he stood facing Brendon, his mouth slightly open but speechless.
He realized exactly why he'd lost his footing. Brendon was … even more than usual. "You … hey."
"You think? I mean." Brendon cleared his throat and deepened his voice to a rumbly bass. "That's right, baby."
"No glasses?"
"Yeah." Brendon began to fidget and mess with his hair. "Well, contacts are freakin' expensive, so I don't wear them much. But you know, for going out."
"You look good." It occurred to Jon that he could have been subtler but it was the simple truth. He almost said 'you look fucking good' or even 'good for fucking' but that was more his brothers' style.
Brendon's eyes were rimmed with smudged eyeliner and his black pants could have been painted onto his thighs. He wore a white tuxedo shirt under a white short-waisted jacket with a high collar. He pretty much looked like a Disney prince.
And that was one description Jon would keep to himself. Such a fucking girl.
"This, is what you're wearing?" Brendon asked.
"Yeah. Pretty much."
"Oh, no you're not, Jon Walker! We told you to dress nice!" Brendon took his hand and dragged him up the stairs. Jon complained very loudly about this, but really, there was nothing here that he objected to.
"Don't you have any real shirts?" Brendon asked, shoving aside clothes that hung in the closet. There was a small section of his clothes hanging in front of his Grandma's. "Okay, Olivia's going to help us out here. This." He shoved a black silk shirt with a tiny pink flower print at Jon.
"You're kidding, right?" Jon argued, though he was already putting his arms into the sleeves. "I'm pretty sure wearing my grandma's clothes is one of the more queer things I've ever done."
Brendon ignored him, still rifling through the closet.
"Ooh, this, too!" A dark vest with pin stripes. "And look here, you actually own a tie!"
"I don't need a tie. It doesn't even match, c'mon."
"It doesn't have to be all done up. Just a jaunty little knot."
Jon snorted but stood still while Brendon turned up his collar and looped the tie.
"Say jaunty again and I'll wear anything you want."
Brendon kept his eyes at Jon's throat but he smirked. "Jaunty. Jawn-tee. Jaun-tay." Brendon played with each syllable and Jon couldn't look anywhere but at his lips making lazy 'O' and the way the tip of his tongue teased each phonogram. There was a quiet, only-inches-apart moment between them. They were on the edge of this building tension between them, teetering between the 'nearly there' and the 'not quite enough'.
"Um, now, shoes. With laces?"
Jon sighed. For Brendon, for Brendon. "And only because you said 'jaunty'."
While he rummaged for socks and shoes, Brendon talked about how Greta had taken forever to find something to wear.
"Hey, you ever wear make-up before?" Brendon asked, standing at the vanity. It was an antique with a large round mirror giving Jon the dual view of Brendon's back as he faced him.
Jon laughed in a quiet, self-amused way. "College, man. I was in drag every Homecoming, Halloween, and Spring Break."
Brendon smirked. "I can appreciate of that kind of crazy."
"Yeah, but I'm not trying fool anyone," Jon straddled the vanity bench and looked up at him. "I make a fucking ugly girl."
"Hm …" Brendon looked down at him with dark eyes. "But have you ever been told that you make a very pretty boy?"
Jon's mind stumbled at that, missed a step just like his feet had earlier. He felt a blush rise up his neck and opened his mouth to form a response, not realizing that Brendon was leaning forward, leaning down, and then pressing his own slightly parted lips to Jon's.
His footing and his words might elude him on occasion, but lips? Lips, he knew. He pressed up into the kiss, slow with lazy sucking tugs at Brendon's bottom lip and just a slight flick of tongue that was met with a deep hum of approval. Jon was just reaching for Brendon when an accusatory meow squawked at them from below and Clover attacked one of Jon's shoelaces.
They parted, glancing at the cat and then at each with slightly breathy chuckles.
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Jon scolded that cat and then looked back at Brendon, who shrugged.
"I just figured that, if I kissed you now, I wouldn't be nervous all night, wondering if you were planning on kissing me later," Brendon said, attempting nonchalance and failing.
"It's not a bad strategy."
"I'm glad you agree."
"Yeah. Now I totally won't be nervous when I kiss you again later."
"See? You fell into my trap!" He moved onto the bench seat, knees nudging against Jon's. "Now don't be a pussy about this." He raised an eyeliner pencil towards Jon and though he dodged and whined and growled a bit, he eventually held still long enough for Brendon to darken his lash line and even let him apply a shine to his lips because Brendon did it with his fingertips.
~^~
"Jesus, guys, are you sure?" Jon muttered as they passed a group of Harleys parked along the road. "Dressing like this at a club on campus is one thing, but, fuck…"
He already felt a bit Halloween in a shirt with actual pink flowers and eyeliner, but the other guys? Brendon was dead sexy and prancing like he knew it, and the way he was currently draped over Ryan's shoulders, whispering into his ear as they walked in front of them, was enough to draw attention. And this was not even considering Ryan's liberal use of blue-green eye shadow and Oliver Twist get up. Spencer was just as made up and everything that was long, curvy, and elegant about his body wasn't being hidden by boxy work clothes tonight.
"I just don't want to end up being the sad voiced-over scene at the end of Brokeback Mountain, you know?" Jon said. "We are in Arizona."
"What?" Brendon turned back to them. "No way, Zack likes us! He's fucking hardcore but he's cool. Really!"
"It's true. We wouldn't come here if it was like that," Ryan added thoughtfully. Jon detected something of a double take in his dark expression, but he'd started to get used to Ryan's suspicious gaze this week.
Spencer distracted him when he spoke. "Zack started the place for his biker buddies from California. Long stretches of highway around here, right? So like, five times a year there are a ton of Hell's Angels in town, but Zack runs the place for us the rest of the year."
"Yeah, well, if we get our asses handed to us tonight, I'm kicking all of yours after," Jon muttered.
They were draped with purple and green plastic beads as they entered, fitting the Mardi Gras theme, and the air throbbed with the rhythm of live music from a band that touted to be Cajun-style Southern rock and roll, and he had no idea what that was supposed to mean but he liked it and figured that since he was currently wearing eyeliner and his grandmother's shirt in a biker bar in Bisbee, Arizona, that he'd just dispense with all presuppositions for the evening.
"So. What happened back there?" Spencer asked, as they stood at the bar waiting to be served.
"What do you mean?" Jon asked, trying to avoid Spencer's eyes as he watched Ryan and Brendon dance together.
"Please. Brendon obviously had something good to tell Ryan - they tell each other everything. You know that, right? You'll get used to it. And Ryan will just tell me too, so fess up."
Jon cleared his throat, giving in to being trapped. "It was, there was, um, kissing." He expected to feel defensive but as the words came out he was just happy and proud. He still pulled at his hair, slightly crunchy from whatever Brendon had rubbed into it and glanced up at Spencer, relieved to see a smile already there.
"It's about time, dude!" Spencer smacked his arm and Jon was flooded with the giddy sensation that came from being on the receiving end of his smile.
"Hey. You're new. Who are you?" A deep voice from across the bar startled Jon out of his moment.
"I …" The dude was big and bald, looking pissed off and very much like what Jon had been concerned about in the first place.
"Zack! This is Jon. He's Olivia's grandson," Spencer said without any hesitation. "He's here with us – with Brendon."
Jon didn't have time to glare at Spencer before Zack responded.
"Cool. I'll assume you're alright then." Zack nodded with a slight frown and set four bottles on the bar in front of him.
"Thanks." Jon cleared his throat and did his best to smile. "Nice place, man."
"Thanks." Zack cracked an actual smile though his face was still stern. "You guys have a good time tonight." There was a silent or else implied there.
"Told you!" Spencer bumped Jon with his hip as he grabbed two of the beers. "See you out there."
Jon left some cash on the bar and took his time moving across the room. He wanted to take a minute to ground himself in this environment. He recognized several faces and said hi to a few, noting that easily half of the couples dancing were same gender. Zack was talking to a table of guys that Jon presumed were the owners of the bikes outside, but none seemed put off by the spectacle around them. One of them even looked up when Ryan and Spencer danced near them but had no notable reaction.
Brendon was in the center of the tiny dance floor, nothing but joy on his face as he moved to the music. His back was to Jon, when Jon reached in front of him to present his drink.
"Aw, yes! You're an awesome date."
"Awesome already? You're setting the bar pretty high," Jon answered, putting his hand on Brendon's hip after he took his drink. "What if I can't keep that up all night?"
"That's what she said!" Brendon blurted out, laughing.
~^~
He stayed behind Brendon with one hand on his hip while they drank their beers. The first ones of the night always went fast, which were replaced almost immediately by Ryan and Spencer and then again later by people he didn't even know.
Greta passed in front of Brendon, her hand protective over her belly as she moved through the crowd, and Jon instinctively flexed his hand over Brendon's stomach and pulled him close, out of her way. Greta smiled at them with a scrunched nose and shoulders, which Jon recognized as universal girl-speak for 'you guys are so cute!'
Brendon cast Jon a smirking, downward glace over his shoulder. Jon just inclined his head forward, his nose just brushing the hair behind Brendon's ear. He kept his hand where it was though, holding Brendon against him and they moved with an easy sway to the music.
"Do you dance?" Brendon asked in a shout as he leaned back toward Jon's ear. "Your Grandma did – she was good."
"Dancing, it turns out, is actually not a genetic trait."
Brendon spun around so that he was facing Jon and settled his forearms comfortably around Jon's shoulders. The fingers of Jon's hand not holding a beer, rested on Brendon's back just below the jacket hem. He could feel the damp heat of him through the linen.
"You can move your hips all right." Brendon demonstrated a press and grind to the music, for clarity.
"That I can do," Jon agreed. "Hey, remember what I said before about not being nervous the next time I kissed you?"
"Yeah?"
Jon tilted his head, holding Brendon's eyes for a moment. Brendon stilled, looking at Jon's mouth just before Jon leaned forward. It was little more than a gentle press, a slide of wet lips and a press again. They were both smiling, Jon felt Brendon's teeth against his upper lip and his exhale against his mouth. It wasn't just the kiss that made Jon's palms tingle and his heart clench, it was also the way their hands touched each other's back with affectionate little encouraging strokes of fingers. They each took a deep breath and settled into a comfortable stance, holding each other close, one foot between the other's two, as they began to move to the music again – Jon wasn't sure they'd ever stopped.
It was like being in a sealed bubble of time and space to themselves, the rest of the world a haze of color and muffled sound that was somehow apart from them.
"Hey, do you want later, after, to come over?" Jon asked.
Brendon looked at him to answer, "Okay," and then settled himself cheek to cheek with Jon again.
Not that he didn't want to take Brendon to bed, his palms weren't the only thing tingling, but Jon hadn't intended for that to sound like such a blatant proposition. He hoped Brendon would understand since he always seemed to get what Jon was trying to say when he couldn't find the words. He also trusted that Brendon would speak his own mind, too, if he wasn't interested.
The music slowed but was kept alive by a thrumming drum beat until it segued into the next song. The shift in tempo sunk into Jon's subconscious and he realized once again that there were other people in the room. He caught more than a few sets of eyes lingering on Brendon and he adjusted his hold, fitting him more closely against Jon's front.
Ray, from the internet café, caught Jon's eye and raised his beer, giving him a dopey smile. Jon chuckled.
"What's up?"
"I kind of feel like we're being watched …by the whole town."
"Oh. Well, you're right-on about that. Except they aren't watching us. Just you."
"Me?"
Brendon nodded. "You're the new gossip."
"But what about you?"
"Oh, god, they've been talking about me for a year now. 'Run Away Mormon Queer Boy Shacks Up With Single Pregnant Girl.' Fucking epic headline. But now they have you!"
Brendon did that eyebrow waggle thing.
"Great. Glad to take the heat off you." Jon shrugged, pretending this news didn't disturb him.
Whatever. He had music, beer, and Brendon pressed against him. Life was fine.
~^~
"Ooh – look who's here!" Brendon squawked and pushed past, pulling Jon by the hand.
Gerard, he recognized, with the ever-intriguing appearance of a 30 year old woman trapped in a 15 year old boy's body. He looked glamorous in a way that set him apart, even from Brendon, and Jon's fingers twitched for his camera.
The only thing that compelled Jon's attention away from Gerard was Brendon hugging the guy standing next to him. He was even shorter than Jon, which was really saying something, and had dark hair.
"Frank! Oh, my god, when'd you get here?" Brendon released him but continued to pat his chest and shoulders with nervous excitement before stepping back.
"Last night. Late. How're you, dude?"
"Good! So good. You have to meet Jon."
"Yes, I do." Frank answered, extending his hand. Jon was well aware now that he and Brendon had been drawing attention to themselves and had been under observation.
"Nice to meet you," Jon said.
"Yeah, likewise."
Jon wasn't sure, there was nothing obvious in the sculpted Italian features, but Jon could feel suspicion in his eyes. There were tattoos on the backs of his hands and on his neck peeking above his collar. Even if Jon hadn't already known that Frank was from New Jersey, he would have known he was from back east.
"How're you doing, man?" Jon asked Gerard, who looked almost nervous with his arms crossed and shoulders hunched.
"Hi. Good. Dr. Pepper." He indicated the plastic cup in his hand with a manic twitch of his hand while scanning the bar with wary eyes.
Brendon and Frank both giggled at him.
"Dr. Pepper, good choice," Jon said softly, remembering the casual way Gerard had discussed his addictions. He wondered if exposure to the temptations in the bar had him on edge, or if it was Frank.
But then he remembered the mention about Gerard only having one bed.
"So, you came early this summer…?" There was teasing in Brendon's voice and he bounced on his toes a little. Frank nodded with a grin but bit at his lip ring as he glanced at Gerard and then at his feet before looking up again. "Yeah, you know, took care of some shit at work for the summer, thought I'd come as soon as I could get free."
Brendon slung his arm around Gerard, who seemed to startle. He exhaled smoke through his tight smile. "Hey, B. Hey."
For all that Brendon laughed, bounced, and threw himself at people with all of his positive energy, he was still able to sense unease when it showed itself.
Brendon maintained the smile on his face, but he caught Jon's eye, giving me a silent message. Jon understood. Brendon's friend was in need and there wasn't anything Brendon wouldn't give.
"Come take a piss with me, Gee!"
"But I don't …" Gerard looked surprised to see himself being led away by the hand. "Oh. Oh, my god, we're going to the ladies room, aren't we?"
Frank giggled as they went, dropping his cigarette on the bar's floor and stumping it out. Jon was disarmed by the happy sound of his little laugh because he wasn't prepared when Frank said, "So, you and Brendon fucking?"
Jon's felt the air leave his lungs as if the room had been vacuum pressured. He knew Brendon was younger than him and less experienced, but Jon didn't like people thinking he was being the creepy older guy here. He wasn't a user.
An annoyed, "Wow," was all he managed and he took a drink. He wished it had sounded more like 'wow, I should punch you in the face right now' but he knew he just sounded more embarrassed than anything. If he was more like his brothers, he probably would just punch him, but then again, neither of his brothers was likely to actually be fucking any guys, which took him right back to the place that made his guts all twisty and annoyed in the first place.
Frank giggled again, high and halting and as offensive as his words might have been, his demeanor really wasn't threatening at all.
"I like Brendon. Gerard likes Brendon. He's a good kid."
"He's not a kid," Jon mumbled, turning away slightly so he was merely in Frank's proximity rather than engaging him in further conversation. "And we're friends."
Frank let out a quiet laugh and sniffed and shuffled around. "Right, shit – oh! Hey, I met your Grandma a couple times. She was alright."
"She was." Jon clenched his jaw and shoved his fingertips into his pockets. Of course Frank had met her. Just another reminder of all that time he'd lost and taken for granted, but assholes like Frank got to know her.
"Yeah. Gerard had a lot of respect for her." Frank paused to light another cigarette, exhaling quickly once the burn took. "Actually, I came to Bisbee now because he's been so down about it. His Grandma died a few years ago. Stirred up a bunch of old shit for him, you know?"
Jon nodded and felt compelled to acknowledge him with glancing eye contact. He wondered if this sincerity was supposed to compensate for the crack about him and Brendon, but it wasn't working. "It'd probably help if Gerard's friends didn't jerk him around, either."
Frank's eyebrows rose at that and Jon thought for a second maybe he was going to get punched in the face. Jon was wearing an old lady shirt and probably looked like a complete pussy to Frank, but Frank just ran his knuckles over his nose and giggled again.
Jon felt incredibly awkward and wanted to leave but he wanted to be here when Brendon came back. When Greta sat in a nearby chair, Jon thought he'd been rescued but as he approached her, Patrick cut him off.
"Hey," he said to her and for a greeting, it almost sounded like an apology.
"Oh, hey you. Don't you look sharp tonight." Greta smiled and pregnant or not - woman or not, she was stunning - and Patrick seemed to quake a little. Jon wanted to put a steadying hand on his shoulder. Something in Patrick's composure told Jon exactly what was coming next and he wished that he could help the guy out.
"Thanks. So, I, uh – there's a band. And there's dancing. And you know, I thought maybe we could…?"
"Dance? Me?" Greta looked shocked but then laughed before she put her fingers over her mouth. "Aren't you the sweetest thing!"
Jon cringed.
"I mean, oh, sweetie, I just really need to sit down. I'm dying for some water though?"
Patrick shifted on his feet. "Yeah, sure. That's fine. Um."
"I need another beer!" Frank said abruptly and Jon realized that he'd seen the exchange as well. "Dude, come get a beer with me." He put a hand on Patrick's shoulder who started to protest until Frank added in a low voice, "I'll bet the bar has water, too."
Jon gave Patrick an affirming nod, and he looked between him and Frank before comprehension dawned. "Right! Water."
Jon sat with Greta and tugged at his hair, smiling into his lap while she went on about his being prettier than she was. He looked up just in time to see Brendon and Gerard. Someone stopped them halfway back and Jon could just barely hear Brendon's voice, deep and loud with excitement. Brendon hugged the guy and after waving Gerard off, they sat at a table together.
"Oh, um?" Greta had seen as well and she put a hand on Jon's arm. "Did Brendon ever tell you about him?" she asked carefully.
"Eric, I assume? Yeah, I guess so." Jon had to be fair and admit that Brendon had been honest. He still thought it was pretty shitty for him to show up now.
"It's just talk, okay? Brendon hasn't seen him in a while. … And not since he met you."
"Sure, it's all right," Jon nodded and gave her a little shrug. "It's no big deal." He knew how to work the look. It was the same one he'd used many times and covered a multitude of lies for the benefit of others.
Sorry, Dad, I'll try not to be.
No, I don't mind doing it like this.
Yeah, Gram, everything is fine.
"I'm just gonna get another beer," he told her as he got up.
"Jon."
It was rude, he knew, but he went anyway. He passed Patrick, Frank, and Gerard but avoided looking at any of them. He could feel how the air in the room had shifted; thicker, tenser now. Brendon commanded the attention of an audience without trying, and Jon had just been on display with him. Now Brendon was laughing and talking with another guy who many here had probably seen Brendon with before, and he couldn't stand their pitying looks.
He stood at the bar with his back to Brendon and hung his head, letting his vision blur as he focused on the wood grain of the bar under a layer of varnish. The smell of smoke, beer, and bodies was beginning to ripen and he raised his fingers to his nose, the smell of Brendon's hair lingering on them. He didn't like feeling the bitter stabs of anger and hurt; it made him nauseous.
"Hey." Ryan's voice was distinguishably bland though he spoke loud enough to be heard over the music and handed Jon a lit cigarette.
Jon looked at him for a moment, trying to determine if a reply was necessary. He just took the smoke and necked his beer.
Ryan was leaning back with his elbows against the bar, one slightly poking into Jon's arm. It was an extension of familiarity he wasn't accustomed to from Ryan.
"That's not what you think it is."
Jon looked at Ryan, then glanced over his shoulder at Brendon resting his chin on his hand, listening to Eric talk, then back at Ryan.
"Yeah? What do I think it is?" Jon tried for cool but Ryan's near sneer informed him of his failure.
"You think Brendon still wants him or something equally as stupid. But you're wrong. He doesn't."
"You know Brendon best, I guess." He didn't really mean it to come out sounding so sour but Ryan didn't seem phased.
"Yeah, I do. I also know that you've hung out with him a lot this week and he hasn't had your dick in his mouth once. Which is more than I can say for …" Ryan jutted his chin towards them.
Jon blinked. There was too much there for him to think about. "I … I really like him. I'm not using him."
"I know. So just don’t act like a prick right now."
He had to laugh at that. Ryan seemed to be channeling his conscience, which was entirely too ironic.
"Look, Brendon is smart –"
"- I know that."
"And he's got a lot of heart –"
"- I know-"
"And! He could have done worse than Eric. Brendon could come here any night of the week if he just wanted to get laid and there are a lot of guys here who would take it. And I know you know what I mean." Jon was beginning to realize that when Spencer said that Brendon told Ryan everything, he really meant it. "But that guy was nice to Brendon, okay? Gave him what he needed without taking it all."
What you couldn't, Jon thought.
The band was still playing, gritty rock and roll slowly bouncing into a steel drum laden reggae rhythm that made every body in the room bob and roll. He attributed the change of energy in the room to the music, but something in the quality of the noise Ryan let out made Jon turn around with a start.
He was just in time to see Brendon and Eric pulling apart from a hug as three tall men loomed over them.
Jon knew, just as any guy would – as any queer guy would – by the looks on their faces that they were geared for violence. A cold calm settled into Jon's spine.
Brendon bounced up from his chair, nervous smile and frown on his face. Eric stood in front of him, facing the others who he appeared to know. Jon registered the similarity in cropped haircuts and postures and could see now that they were also soldiers. Several things happened in quick succession: Brendon made what Jon knew was just a friendly gesture reaching towards one of them, but the guy puffed up, recoiling from Brendon's hand, and the one nearest shoved at Brendon, and instantly, everyone in the bar seemed to be on their feet surrounding them. Just like any schoolyard fight, everyone wanted to see.
Jon immediately tried to go to him but was already blocked by too many people. He sensed movement to his right moving forward with as much purpose as he was and saw Frank there, a look of detached determination on his face as he glanced up at Jon.
"Brendon."
"I saw," Frank answered.
The band was still playing. The number of people in the room seemed to multiply and without further warning, like a human mushroom cloud there seemed to be an implosion that ballooned outward. Jon was shoved back and to the side as he tried not to knock someone over and nearly took an elbow to the nose for his effort.
He blocked another swinging arm and the offender turned on Jon with fist raised but then folded after taking punch to the kidney. Frank again, only saving Jon's ass this time.
A woman screamed and Jon recognized faces in a blur; Zack, Spencer, and the small cruel eyes that had looked down at Brendon with contempt. A gleam of light shone near the ceiling for one brief moment as a bottle soared through the air and disappeared down into the crowd. The band had stopped playing and, as suddenly as it all had begun, it was over, leaving Jon's ears ringing.
"Brendon?" he called out, not intending to vocalize the one name that was repeating in his mind. He looked around as people parted, seeing Zack's friends strong-arming people out the door. Spencer crossed Jon's line of vision as he kneeled to the floor where Brendon was curled into an ungraceful heap, one hand limp over his face.
It felt like a brick was lodged in Jon's chest. He tried to say something but his mouth was dry and he couldn't swallow. He took a few steps forward and heard Zack and Spencer's voices.
"Come on, kid. Listen up."
"Brendon, open your eyes. Can you hear me?"
From where Jon stood, he could see Brendon's eyes flicker and roll. His body sagged slightly and then tensed again in the struggle to regain consciousness.
He let out a pained groan, pressed his hand to his temple and curled into himself a bit more.
"Brendon Urie, open your eyes," Spencer ordered. "Now, Bren, we have to know how badly you're hurt. Do we have call an ambulance?"
"G' 'way, Smith," Brendon moaned. "Ah, fucker!" Jon didn't think the last part was meant for Spencer.
Jon took the first deep breath he'd taken in what seemed like minutes. The brick feeling in Jon's chest eased and he was left with a surge of adrenaline rushing down the back of his arms; relief that Brendon was okay, but he was still thrumming with the testosterone driven urge to fight and protect. Jon began pacing, rolling his head, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders. Zack, Spencer, and now Greta were all gentling Brendon to his feet and when he turned to pace again, he saw Ryan.
He was standing only a few steps from where they'd been talking by the bar and had an unmistakable look of dread on his face. The jealous edge Jon had been feeling against him immediately softened.
"Ryan?" Jon approached. "He's okay. Hit with a bottle, I think. But okay."
Ryan's eyes darted from where he was looking at Brendon over Jon's shoulder, to Jon. Ryan looked younger and a tremor shook his thin body.
"Sure?"
"Yeah. C'mon, man." Jon was compelled to reach out and put a hand on Ryan's back and slowly, as if they were trudging through water, they moved forward together.
Brendon was pressing both palms to the sides of his head, groaning and cursing and leaning heavily into Zack.
Everyone hovering near made way for Ryan without saying a word and he stood right in front of Brendon. The look on his face might have passed for 'expressionless' to anyone who didn't know him, them, but Jon saw the profound worry in his eyes. Brendon quit complaining and stood up a little taller, dropping his hands to his sides, a sheepish, almost apologetic grin on his face as though he was trying to downplay his hurting for Ryan's sake.
The band struck a few awkward chords and then started playing again, slow and halting, trying to find their pace.
"You good?" Ryan's voice could barely be heard, but it wasn't a question. Brendon nodded and then winced, touching his head. "Let's get out of here, loser," Ryan said, putting his hand on Brendon's shoulder.
~^~
There was a lot of talking, talking by people who were not Jon, outside of the bar. Zack was apologizing for the trouble as he escorted them to Spencer's van, Patrick was offering to take Greta home, and Gerard rushed out to hug Brendon and fuss over him.
The ride home was no quieter. Spencer drove while Ryan sat next Brendon in the back. Jon had ridden in the backseat with Brendon to the bar, but he'd deferred to Ryan's unspoken claim this time. Spencer and Brendon babbled loudly, recounting their versions of events, laughing and swearing, both still flying high on the rush of it all.
Ryan laughed too, quiet and shaky, with his shoulder against Brendon's, but said little else. Jon glanced back at them from the front passenger seat. A street lamp lit Brendon's face as they turned a corner. They held each other's gaze for moment and Brendon took breath like he was going to speak just when Spencer pulled into the driveway asking him a question.
"So, how are you doing? You really think you're okay?"
"Yeah, think so. Fucking headache though. So stupid..."
Jon wasn't sure about the etiquette here. He liked Spencer. And Ryan. Mostly. No, he really did like them both, but Ryan was still trailing close to Brendon and Jon needed time with Brendon without his best friends around.
Needed.
Feeling an echo of his Cro-Magnon ancestry in his bones, he lunged at Brendon as he walked towards their house and wrapped his hands around Brendon's waist with a grunt. It was something of an ungainly bear hug, actually lifting Brendon off his feet for a second.
Brendon squawked in surprise, laughing, and put his hand over Jon's arms, maintaining the embrace.
"Are … are you guys coming over? Or what?" Spencer asked, already half way up the front steps.
Jon squeezed Brendon, pressing his nose into the curve of Brendon's neck and shoulder. He made a quiet, purring growl that he was pretty sure only Brendon heard. He hoped.
"Uh, no, guys, I'm going to Jon's." Brendon glanced back at him as well as he could with Jon all smushed up into him, and Jon nodded, already taking a few steps towards his own house, Brendon in hand. Brendon laughed and wriggled but let himself be dragged along. "Thanks, guys! For everything. Um, goodnight!"
Jon didn't look at Spencer or Ryan, not interested in seeing disapproval in their eyes. He rarely felt an urge of any kind that he didn't think he could control. Certainly not when it came to sex, preferring to move along at whatever pace his partner set, except that right now, Jon just wanted him.
"Yeah, let's go," Brendon muttered, almost unheard, but the tension in his voice was as tight as what Jon felt. "Come on."
Jon pulled the keys from his pocket and reached for the door but Brendon took them out of his hand, swearing quietly as he rushed to unlock it while Jon pressed against him, breathing hot against Brendon's neck. Once inside, Brendon turned in his arms and pulled Jon against him, leaned back on the shut door.
The house was silent and dark, except for the light he'd left on upstairs. Jon tilted his head, kissing him open and wet. The keys hit the floor with a loud ching when Brendon dropped them, pulling at Jon with a pitchy grunt. The sound of their gasping breaths and the rustle of fabric was amplified in the silence. Brendon's hands scrambled at his back, clutching handfuls of his shirt and hair, nearly rising to his toes as he pulled at Jon. He answered in kind, pressing against Brendon, every part of his body craving the contact. He ran his hands up Brendon's torso and chest, still hot and humid, and pushed the white jacket off his shoulders. They arched just enough for it to fall to the ground behind them before Brendon's back hit the door again with a muffled 'hmph' against Jon's tongue.
Brendon raised one knee so that it nudged the outside of Jon's thigh and he shifted it forward, pressing it up between Brendon's legs. Brendon maneuvered one hand down, palming Jon's ass. It was a thrill to feel how Brendon wanted him just as badly. He pulled back only long enough to swallow and gasp, encouraging Brendon with a chesty hum before tasting his mouth again.
It seemed the natural move to make, to reach up and hold Brendon's face as he kissed him, but when he did, Brendon hissed, jerking with tension and folding slightly into himself. The instant he did it, Jon's better sense got a hold of him.
"Shit, sorry," Jon panted, out a breath, stepping back a bit. "Sorry. You, 'kay?"
Brendon touched the side of head and shrugged, letting out a nervous laugh. "I'm, it's, it still really hurts, I guess."
Jon took a deep breath, blowing out slowly as he adjusted the frustrated and confused erection in his pants and wiped his mouth dry. "Right. No, of course."
"I'm sorry." Brendon looked small again and almost sad as the upstairs light fell over Jon's shoulder onto his face.
"Hey, no," Jon whispered. He kissed Brendon again on closed lips, then stretched up to kiss his forehead, rubbing up and down his arms. Brendon relaxed into him a little. "How about some aspirin?"
"Please. Fuck," he whimpered.
"Okay. And how about, like, tea? I think there's tea."
Brendon smirked. "Still got that really strong cinnamon that Olivia had?"
~^~
The cats came up one by one to investigate Brendon, carefully nosing at his injury and head-butting him in demand of scritches. For some reason, cats believed that if you pet them it made you feel better. … And damn them if they weren't right.
"I'm okay, baby," Brendon muttered to Dylan as he curled into his lap. The cat glared at Jon when he gave Brendon aspirin and a pair of sweats to change into. Jon got the feeling Dylan wasn't pleased with what he'd seen Jon doing to him and probably thought Jon was the one who had hurt him.
The thought made him chuckle on his way to the kitchen to catch the whistling kettle.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing. Cat. Never mind. Sorry."
The tea smelled good and the time it took to make it helped him relax, which made sense because he wasn't sure he'd ever actually drank a whole cup of tea and he wondered if it was only the preparation and not the drinking that was actually calming.
"I guess it was all sort of my fault," Brendon said, staring into his mug.
"At the bar? No way."
Brendon let out a humorless laugh. "Just, I didn't get to say … I didn't know he'd, Eric, would be there tonight. You know? And we just kind of wanted to say goodbye? He's met someone …too." Brendon gave Jon a cautious glance and his hands floundered a bit, nearly spilling his tea. "But now I'm kind of worried about him and I'm sorry I ruined the night for everyone."
"Well, you guys promised 'night life' and you totally delivered. I wonder what's gonna happen next time?"
Brendon smiled a little, but there was still a crease between his eyebrows, leaving Jon feeling dumb for trying make a joke.
"Honest, you didn't ruin anything. Hey, come here." He put his mug down, scooting Dylan and the others out of the way as turned on the couch and pulled Brendon on top of him. He wanted to be comforting but didn't trust himself to keep talking and make matters worse.
Brendon's hands were on his face, not holding too tight, but just betraying his own eagerness, which Jon had no problem with. They kissed gently, only for a moment, before Brendon pushed back. His weight settled onto Jon as he relaxed, making the subtle declaration that he wasn't going anywhere. Just to further clarify that Brendon was welcome where was, Jon put his hands high on Brendon's sides, just below his ribs.
Brendon's middle fingers rubbed circles behind Jon's earlobes while his thumbs rasped over his beard.
"You always have this?" Brendon asked, scratching his fingers through the hair along Jon's jaw and gliding a thumb around the rim of Jon's bottom lip.
"Only over the last year. I get a hair cut now and then and just shave it off." He shrugged and jutted his jaw against Brendon's fingers stroking at his chin. "I usually just let it grow again."
Brendon nodded, eyes fixing on Jon's bottom lip before leaning down to kiss it. "Good." The tiny kiss turned into something fuller, deeper, but not like it had been before inside the door.
Jon was still hard, so hard, and he could feel that Brendon was too, but he didn't grind or press upward. It was only days ago that Brendon had mentioned his virginity and Jon figured he'd done so for a reason. He wanted whatever they did - this thing - to mean something significant. Jon had every hope of achieving that significance.
The longer Brendon's weight bore down on him and the wetter his mouth got, he began to let his hands glide up and down Brendon's back, skimming around and over the upper curve of Brendon's ass. He didn't follow his inclination to squeeze but he wasn't shy about touching either. Just enough to let Brendon know that he was fully on board with this.
"Jon?" Brendon eventually said, pulling away and resting his cheek on Jon's shoulder.
"Hmm?" Jon still had one hand on his ass while the other threaded through the hair at the back of Brendon's neck.
"Um, you won't think it's some lame ass excuse if I say I have a headache, right? 'Cause, seriously. Ow."
"No, man, it's cool. Want me to take you home?" He was still petting up and down Brendon's back and really didn't want to.
"Nuh-uh." Brendon shook his head.
"Okay. Stay here?"
Brendon nodded, burrowing against Jon's chest with a hopeful whine.
"Yeah. Right here." He hugged Brendon tight, kissed his head, and thought that actual sleep was going to be out of the question.
~^~
It was the chill that washed over him after Brendon got up that woke him. He heard Brendon use the bathroom and didn't even open his eyes, just curled into the warm place against the back of the couch where Brendon's 110 degree body had been. He drifted into contented dreams of breakfast together and cuddles and kissing. Definitely more kissing.
But when he jerked upright to the sound of Clover and Garfunkle nudging their food dish across the kitchen floor in demand of being fed that he realized he was alone. Cold and alone, how cliché.
Jon didn't let it nag at him. Surely Brendon had work to do or had something planned with Greta that morning. He showered after catching the smeared eyeliner circles in his reflection and then he edited photos for a few brainless hours. None of it kept him from replaying the night before; the way they'd kissed in the middle of a crowded bar, and the heart skipping sight of Brendon on the floor and then the frantic way Brendon's hands had clawed at him when they got home. Jon was pretty sure he hadn't misread any of those signs.
After lying back on his bed throwing his phone up in the air several dozen times, he eventually texted, dinner 2nite?
Fifteen minutes later came, girls nite sry
After five minutes there was another. sorry
He didn't want to be angry. He really didn't. But confusion sometimes felt the same.
~^~
Part 4
Part 3
Part 2
~^~
The doorbell rang just as Jon pushed his hands into a t-shirt. It was dark blue and the most not-old one that he had so he figured it would do. He'd also taken the time to trim his beard and was now running late.
He trotted down the stairs and Brendon waved at him through the frosted glass, and that was all it took for solid ground to slip from underneath him. He missed the last step and tumble-slid-flumped onto the wooden floor.
He was laughing, if slightly out of breath, at the ceiling when Brendon stood over him. "Jesus Christ, you're a menace!" His high eye-browed concern broke into cautious laughter with Jon. "And people say I'm a disaster waiting to happen."
Jon took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his ass and elbow, and wondered how pink his face was. "I know, I know." He accepted Brendon's hand and let him haul him to his feet. "Sometimes my feet just don't … and I …" Jon lost all train of thought as he stood facing Brendon, his mouth slightly open but speechless.
He realized exactly why he'd lost his footing. Brendon was … even more than usual. "You … hey."
"You think? I mean." Brendon cleared his throat and deepened his voice to a rumbly bass. "That's right, baby."
"No glasses?"
"Yeah." Brendon began to fidget and mess with his hair. "Well, contacts are freakin' expensive, so I don't wear them much. But you know, for going out."
"You look good." It occurred to Jon that he could have been subtler but it was the simple truth. He almost said 'you look fucking good' or even 'good for fucking' but that was more his brothers' style.
Brendon's eyes were rimmed with smudged eyeliner and his black pants could have been painted onto his thighs. He wore a white tuxedo shirt under a white short-waisted jacket with a high collar. He pretty much looked like a Disney prince.
And that was one description Jon would keep to himself. Such a fucking girl.
"This, is what you're wearing?" Brendon asked.
"Yeah. Pretty much."
"Oh, no you're not, Jon Walker! We told you to dress nice!" Brendon took his hand and dragged him up the stairs. Jon complained very loudly about this, but really, there was nothing here that he objected to.
"Don't you have any real shirts?" Brendon asked, shoving aside clothes that hung in the closet. There was a small section of his clothes hanging in front of his Grandma's. "Okay, Olivia's going to help us out here. This." He shoved a black silk shirt with a tiny pink flower print at Jon.
"You're kidding, right?" Jon argued, though he was already putting his arms into the sleeves. "I'm pretty sure wearing my grandma's clothes is one of the more queer things I've ever done."
Brendon ignored him, still rifling through the closet.
"Ooh, this, too!" A dark vest with pin stripes. "And look here, you actually own a tie!"
"I don't need a tie. It doesn't even match, c'mon."
"It doesn't have to be all done up. Just a jaunty little knot."
Jon snorted but stood still while Brendon turned up his collar and looped the tie.
"Say jaunty again and I'll wear anything you want."
Brendon kept his eyes at Jon's throat but he smirked. "Jaunty. Jawn-tee. Jaun-tay." Brendon played with each syllable and Jon couldn't look anywhere but at his lips making lazy 'O' and the way the tip of his tongue teased each phonogram. There was a quiet, only-inches-apart moment between them. They were on the edge of this building tension between them, teetering between the 'nearly there' and the 'not quite enough'.
"Um, now, shoes. With laces?"
Jon sighed. For Brendon, for Brendon. "And only because you said 'jaunty'."
While he rummaged for socks and shoes, Brendon talked about how Greta had taken forever to find something to wear.
"Hey, you ever wear make-up before?" Brendon asked, standing at the vanity. It was an antique with a large round mirror giving Jon the dual view of Brendon's back as he faced him.
Jon laughed in a quiet, self-amused way. "College, man. I was in drag every Homecoming, Halloween, and Spring Break."
Brendon smirked. "I can appreciate of that kind of crazy."
"Yeah, but I'm not trying fool anyone," Jon straddled the vanity bench and looked up at him. "I make a fucking ugly girl."
"Hm …" Brendon looked down at him with dark eyes. "But have you ever been told that you make a very pretty boy?"
Jon's mind stumbled at that, missed a step just like his feet had earlier. He felt a blush rise up his neck and opened his mouth to form a response, not realizing that Brendon was leaning forward, leaning down, and then pressing his own slightly parted lips to Jon's.
His footing and his words might elude him on occasion, but lips? Lips, he knew. He pressed up into the kiss, slow with lazy sucking tugs at Brendon's bottom lip and just a slight flick of tongue that was met with a deep hum of approval. Jon was just reaching for Brendon when an accusatory meow squawked at them from below and Clover attacked one of Jon's shoelaces.
They parted, glancing at the cat and then at each with slightly breathy chuckles.
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Jon scolded that cat and then looked back at Brendon, who shrugged.
"I just figured that, if I kissed you now, I wouldn't be nervous all night, wondering if you were planning on kissing me later," Brendon said, attempting nonchalance and failing.
"It's not a bad strategy."
"I'm glad you agree."
"Yeah. Now I totally won't be nervous when I kiss you again later."
"See? You fell into my trap!" He moved onto the bench seat, knees nudging against Jon's. "Now don't be a pussy about this." He raised an eyeliner pencil towards Jon and though he dodged and whined and growled a bit, he eventually held still long enough for Brendon to darken his lash line and even let him apply a shine to his lips because Brendon did it with his fingertips.
~^~
"Jesus, guys, are you sure?" Jon muttered as they passed a group of Harleys parked along the road. "Dressing like this at a club on campus is one thing, but, fuck…"
He already felt a bit Halloween in a shirt with actual pink flowers and eyeliner, but the other guys? Brendon was dead sexy and prancing like he knew it, and the way he was currently draped over Ryan's shoulders, whispering into his ear as they walked in front of them, was enough to draw attention. And this was not even considering Ryan's liberal use of blue-green eye shadow and Oliver Twist get up. Spencer was just as made up and everything that was long, curvy, and elegant about his body wasn't being hidden by boxy work clothes tonight.
"I just don't want to end up being the sad voiced-over scene at the end of Brokeback Mountain, you know?" Jon said. "We are in Arizona."
"What?" Brendon turned back to them. "No way, Zack likes us! He's fucking hardcore but he's cool. Really!"
"It's true. We wouldn't come here if it was like that," Ryan added thoughtfully. Jon detected something of a double take in his dark expression, but he'd started to get used to Ryan's suspicious gaze this week.
Spencer distracted him when he spoke. "Zack started the place for his biker buddies from California. Long stretches of highway around here, right? So like, five times a year there are a ton of Hell's Angels in town, but Zack runs the place for us the rest of the year."
"Yeah, well, if we get our asses handed to us tonight, I'm kicking all of yours after," Jon muttered.
They were draped with purple and green plastic beads as they entered, fitting the Mardi Gras theme, and the air throbbed with the rhythm of live music from a band that touted to be Cajun-style Southern rock and roll, and he had no idea what that was supposed to mean but he liked it and figured that since he was currently wearing eyeliner and his grandmother's shirt in a biker bar in Bisbee, Arizona, that he'd just dispense with all presuppositions for the evening.
"So. What happened back there?" Spencer asked, as they stood at the bar waiting to be served.
"What do you mean?" Jon asked, trying to avoid Spencer's eyes as he watched Ryan and Brendon dance together.
"Please. Brendon obviously had something good to tell Ryan - they tell each other everything. You know that, right? You'll get used to it. And Ryan will just tell me too, so fess up."
Jon cleared his throat, giving in to being trapped. "It was, there was, um, kissing." He expected to feel defensive but as the words came out he was just happy and proud. He still pulled at his hair, slightly crunchy from whatever Brendon had rubbed into it and glanced up at Spencer, relieved to see a smile already there.
"It's about time, dude!" Spencer smacked his arm and Jon was flooded with the giddy sensation that came from being on the receiving end of his smile.
"Hey. You're new. Who are you?" A deep voice from across the bar startled Jon out of his moment.
"I …" The dude was big and bald, looking pissed off and very much like what Jon had been concerned about in the first place.
"Zack! This is Jon. He's Olivia's grandson," Spencer said without any hesitation. "He's here with us – with Brendon."
Jon didn't have time to glare at Spencer before Zack responded.
"Cool. I'll assume you're alright then." Zack nodded with a slight frown and set four bottles on the bar in front of him.
"Thanks." Jon cleared his throat and did his best to smile. "Nice place, man."
"Thanks." Zack cracked an actual smile though his face was still stern. "You guys have a good time tonight." There was a silent or else implied there.
"Told you!" Spencer bumped Jon with his hip as he grabbed two of the beers. "See you out there."
Jon left some cash on the bar and took his time moving across the room. He wanted to take a minute to ground himself in this environment. He recognized several faces and said hi to a few, noting that easily half of the couples dancing were same gender. Zack was talking to a table of guys that Jon presumed were the owners of the bikes outside, but none seemed put off by the spectacle around them. One of them even looked up when Ryan and Spencer danced near them but had no notable reaction.
Brendon was in the center of the tiny dance floor, nothing but joy on his face as he moved to the music. His back was to Jon, when Jon reached in front of him to present his drink.
"Aw, yes! You're an awesome date."
"Awesome already? You're setting the bar pretty high," Jon answered, putting his hand on Brendon's hip after he took his drink. "What if I can't keep that up all night?"
"That's what she said!" Brendon blurted out, laughing.
~^~
He stayed behind Brendon with one hand on his hip while they drank their beers. The first ones of the night always went fast, which were replaced almost immediately by Ryan and Spencer and then again later by people he didn't even know.
Greta passed in front of Brendon, her hand protective over her belly as she moved through the crowd, and Jon instinctively flexed his hand over Brendon's stomach and pulled him close, out of her way. Greta smiled at them with a scrunched nose and shoulders, which Jon recognized as universal girl-speak for 'you guys are so cute!'
Brendon cast Jon a smirking, downward glace over his shoulder. Jon just inclined his head forward, his nose just brushing the hair behind Brendon's ear. He kept his hand where it was though, holding Brendon against him and they moved with an easy sway to the music.
"Do you dance?" Brendon asked in a shout as he leaned back toward Jon's ear. "Your Grandma did – she was good."
"Dancing, it turns out, is actually not a genetic trait."
Brendon spun around so that he was facing Jon and settled his forearms comfortably around Jon's shoulders. The fingers of Jon's hand not holding a beer, rested on Brendon's back just below the jacket hem. He could feel the damp heat of him through the linen.
"You can move your hips all right." Brendon demonstrated a press and grind to the music, for clarity.
"That I can do," Jon agreed. "Hey, remember what I said before about not being nervous the next time I kissed you?"
"Yeah?"
Jon tilted his head, holding Brendon's eyes for a moment. Brendon stilled, looking at Jon's mouth just before Jon leaned forward. It was little more than a gentle press, a slide of wet lips and a press again. They were both smiling, Jon felt Brendon's teeth against his upper lip and his exhale against his mouth. It wasn't just the kiss that made Jon's palms tingle and his heart clench, it was also the way their hands touched each other's back with affectionate little encouraging strokes of fingers. They each took a deep breath and settled into a comfortable stance, holding each other close, one foot between the other's two, as they began to move to the music again – Jon wasn't sure they'd ever stopped.
It was like being in a sealed bubble of time and space to themselves, the rest of the world a haze of color and muffled sound that was somehow apart from them.
"Hey, do you want later, after, to come over?" Jon asked.
Brendon looked at him to answer, "Okay," and then settled himself cheek to cheek with Jon again.
Not that he didn't want to take Brendon to bed, his palms weren't the only thing tingling, but Jon hadn't intended for that to sound like such a blatant proposition. He hoped Brendon would understand since he always seemed to get what Jon was trying to say when he couldn't find the words. He also trusted that Brendon would speak his own mind, too, if he wasn't interested.
The music slowed but was kept alive by a thrumming drum beat until it segued into the next song. The shift in tempo sunk into Jon's subconscious and he realized once again that there were other people in the room. He caught more than a few sets of eyes lingering on Brendon and he adjusted his hold, fitting him more closely against Jon's front.
Ray, from the internet café, caught Jon's eye and raised his beer, giving him a dopey smile. Jon chuckled.
"What's up?"
"I kind of feel like we're being watched …by the whole town."
"Oh. Well, you're right-on about that. Except they aren't watching us. Just you."
"Me?"
Brendon nodded. "You're the new gossip."
"But what about you?"
"Oh, god, they've been talking about me for a year now. 'Run Away Mormon Queer Boy Shacks Up With Single Pregnant Girl.' Fucking epic headline. But now they have you!"
Brendon did that eyebrow waggle thing.
"Great. Glad to take the heat off you." Jon shrugged, pretending this news didn't disturb him.
Whatever. He had music, beer, and Brendon pressed against him. Life was fine.
~^~
"Ooh – look who's here!" Brendon squawked and pushed past, pulling Jon by the hand.
Gerard, he recognized, with the ever-intriguing appearance of a 30 year old woman trapped in a 15 year old boy's body. He looked glamorous in a way that set him apart, even from Brendon, and Jon's fingers twitched for his camera.
The only thing that compelled Jon's attention away from Gerard was Brendon hugging the guy standing next to him. He was even shorter than Jon, which was really saying something, and had dark hair.
"Frank! Oh, my god, when'd you get here?" Brendon released him but continued to pat his chest and shoulders with nervous excitement before stepping back.
"Last night. Late. How're you, dude?"
"Good! So good. You have to meet Jon."
"Yes, I do." Frank answered, extending his hand. Jon was well aware now that he and Brendon had been drawing attention to themselves and had been under observation.
"Nice to meet you," Jon said.
"Yeah, likewise."
Jon wasn't sure, there was nothing obvious in the sculpted Italian features, but Jon could feel suspicion in his eyes. There were tattoos on the backs of his hands and on his neck peeking above his collar. Even if Jon hadn't already known that Frank was from New Jersey, he would have known he was from back east.
"How're you doing, man?" Jon asked Gerard, who looked almost nervous with his arms crossed and shoulders hunched.
"Hi. Good. Dr. Pepper." He indicated the plastic cup in his hand with a manic twitch of his hand while scanning the bar with wary eyes.
Brendon and Frank both giggled at him.
"Dr. Pepper, good choice," Jon said softly, remembering the casual way Gerard had discussed his addictions. He wondered if exposure to the temptations in the bar had him on edge, or if it was Frank.
But then he remembered the mention about Gerard only having one bed.
"So, you came early this summer…?" There was teasing in Brendon's voice and he bounced on his toes a little. Frank nodded with a grin but bit at his lip ring as he glanced at Gerard and then at his feet before looking up again. "Yeah, you know, took care of some shit at work for the summer, thought I'd come as soon as I could get free."
Brendon slung his arm around Gerard, who seemed to startle. He exhaled smoke through his tight smile. "Hey, B. Hey."
For all that Brendon laughed, bounced, and threw himself at people with all of his positive energy, he was still able to sense unease when it showed itself.
Brendon maintained the smile on his face, but he caught Jon's eye, giving me a silent message. Jon understood. Brendon's friend was in need and there wasn't anything Brendon wouldn't give.
"Come take a piss with me, Gee!"
"But I don't …" Gerard looked surprised to see himself being led away by the hand. "Oh. Oh, my god, we're going to the ladies room, aren't we?"
Frank giggled as they went, dropping his cigarette on the bar's floor and stumping it out. Jon was disarmed by the happy sound of his little laugh because he wasn't prepared when Frank said, "So, you and Brendon fucking?"
Jon's felt the air leave his lungs as if the room had been vacuum pressured. He knew Brendon was younger than him and less experienced, but Jon didn't like people thinking he was being the creepy older guy here. He wasn't a user.
An annoyed, "Wow," was all he managed and he took a drink. He wished it had sounded more like 'wow, I should punch you in the face right now' but he knew he just sounded more embarrassed than anything. If he was more like his brothers, he probably would just punch him, but then again, neither of his brothers was likely to actually be fucking any guys, which took him right back to the place that made his guts all twisty and annoyed in the first place.
Frank giggled again, high and halting and as offensive as his words might have been, his demeanor really wasn't threatening at all.
"I like Brendon. Gerard likes Brendon. He's a good kid."
"He's not a kid," Jon mumbled, turning away slightly so he was merely in Frank's proximity rather than engaging him in further conversation. "And we're friends."
Frank let out a quiet laugh and sniffed and shuffled around. "Right, shit – oh! Hey, I met your Grandma a couple times. She was alright."
"She was." Jon clenched his jaw and shoved his fingertips into his pockets. Of course Frank had met her. Just another reminder of all that time he'd lost and taken for granted, but assholes like Frank got to know her.
"Yeah. Gerard had a lot of respect for her." Frank paused to light another cigarette, exhaling quickly once the burn took. "Actually, I came to Bisbee now because he's been so down about it. His Grandma died a few years ago. Stirred up a bunch of old shit for him, you know?"
Jon nodded and felt compelled to acknowledge him with glancing eye contact. He wondered if this sincerity was supposed to compensate for the crack about him and Brendon, but it wasn't working. "It'd probably help if Gerard's friends didn't jerk him around, either."
Frank's eyebrows rose at that and Jon thought for a second maybe he was going to get punched in the face. Jon was wearing an old lady shirt and probably looked like a complete pussy to Frank, but Frank just ran his knuckles over his nose and giggled again.
Jon felt incredibly awkward and wanted to leave but he wanted to be here when Brendon came back. When Greta sat in a nearby chair, Jon thought he'd been rescued but as he approached her, Patrick cut him off.
"Hey," he said to her and for a greeting, it almost sounded like an apology.
"Oh, hey you. Don't you look sharp tonight." Greta smiled and pregnant or not - woman or not, she was stunning - and Patrick seemed to quake a little. Jon wanted to put a steadying hand on his shoulder. Something in Patrick's composure told Jon exactly what was coming next and he wished that he could help the guy out.
"Thanks. So, I, uh – there's a band. And there's dancing. And you know, I thought maybe we could…?"
"Dance? Me?" Greta looked shocked but then laughed before she put her fingers over her mouth. "Aren't you the sweetest thing!"
Jon cringed.
"I mean, oh, sweetie, I just really need to sit down. I'm dying for some water though?"
Patrick shifted on his feet. "Yeah, sure. That's fine. Um."
"I need another beer!" Frank said abruptly and Jon realized that he'd seen the exchange as well. "Dude, come get a beer with me." He put a hand on Patrick's shoulder who started to protest until Frank added in a low voice, "I'll bet the bar has water, too."
Jon gave Patrick an affirming nod, and he looked between him and Frank before comprehension dawned. "Right! Water."
Jon sat with Greta and tugged at his hair, smiling into his lap while she went on about his being prettier than she was. He looked up just in time to see Brendon and Gerard. Someone stopped them halfway back and Jon could just barely hear Brendon's voice, deep and loud with excitement. Brendon hugged the guy and after waving Gerard off, they sat at a table together.
"Oh, um?" Greta had seen as well and she put a hand on Jon's arm. "Did Brendon ever tell you about him?" she asked carefully.
"Eric, I assume? Yeah, I guess so." Jon had to be fair and admit that Brendon had been honest. He still thought it was pretty shitty for him to show up now.
"It's just talk, okay? Brendon hasn't seen him in a while. … And not since he met you."
"Sure, it's all right," Jon nodded and gave her a little shrug. "It's no big deal." He knew how to work the look. It was the same one he'd used many times and covered a multitude of lies for the benefit of others.
Sorry, Dad, I'll try not to be.
No, I don't mind doing it like this.
Yeah, Gram, everything is fine.
"I'm just gonna get another beer," he told her as he got up.
"Jon."
It was rude, he knew, but he went anyway. He passed Patrick, Frank, and Gerard but avoided looking at any of them. He could feel how the air in the room had shifted; thicker, tenser now. Brendon commanded the attention of an audience without trying, and Jon had just been on display with him. Now Brendon was laughing and talking with another guy who many here had probably seen Brendon with before, and he couldn't stand their pitying looks.
He stood at the bar with his back to Brendon and hung his head, letting his vision blur as he focused on the wood grain of the bar under a layer of varnish. The smell of smoke, beer, and bodies was beginning to ripen and he raised his fingers to his nose, the smell of Brendon's hair lingering on them. He didn't like feeling the bitter stabs of anger and hurt; it made him nauseous.
"Hey." Ryan's voice was distinguishably bland though he spoke loud enough to be heard over the music and handed Jon a lit cigarette.
Jon looked at him for a moment, trying to determine if a reply was necessary. He just took the smoke and necked his beer.
Ryan was leaning back with his elbows against the bar, one slightly poking into Jon's arm. It was an extension of familiarity he wasn't accustomed to from Ryan.
"That's not what you think it is."
Jon looked at Ryan, then glanced over his shoulder at Brendon resting his chin on his hand, listening to Eric talk, then back at Ryan.
"Yeah? What do I think it is?" Jon tried for cool but Ryan's near sneer informed him of his failure.
"You think Brendon still wants him or something equally as stupid. But you're wrong. He doesn't."
"You know Brendon best, I guess." He didn't really mean it to come out sounding so sour but Ryan didn't seem phased.
"Yeah, I do. I also know that you've hung out with him a lot this week and he hasn't had your dick in his mouth once. Which is more than I can say for …" Ryan jutted his chin towards them.
Jon blinked. There was too much there for him to think about. "I … I really like him. I'm not using him."
"I know. So just don’t act like a prick right now."
He had to laugh at that. Ryan seemed to be channeling his conscience, which was entirely too ironic.
"Look, Brendon is smart –"
"- I know that."
"And he's got a lot of heart –"
"- I know-"
"And! He could have done worse than Eric. Brendon could come here any night of the week if he just wanted to get laid and there are a lot of guys here who would take it. And I know you know what I mean." Jon was beginning to realize that when Spencer said that Brendon told Ryan everything, he really meant it. "But that guy was nice to Brendon, okay? Gave him what he needed without taking it all."
What you couldn't, Jon thought.
The band was still playing, gritty rock and roll slowly bouncing into a steel drum laden reggae rhythm that made every body in the room bob and roll. He attributed the change of energy in the room to the music, but something in the quality of the noise Ryan let out made Jon turn around with a start.
He was just in time to see Brendon and Eric pulling apart from a hug as three tall men loomed over them.
Jon knew, just as any guy would – as any queer guy would – by the looks on their faces that they were geared for violence. A cold calm settled into Jon's spine.
Brendon bounced up from his chair, nervous smile and frown on his face. Eric stood in front of him, facing the others who he appeared to know. Jon registered the similarity in cropped haircuts and postures and could see now that they were also soldiers. Several things happened in quick succession: Brendon made what Jon knew was just a friendly gesture reaching towards one of them, but the guy puffed up, recoiling from Brendon's hand, and the one nearest shoved at Brendon, and instantly, everyone in the bar seemed to be on their feet surrounding them. Just like any schoolyard fight, everyone wanted to see.
Jon immediately tried to go to him but was already blocked by too many people. He sensed movement to his right moving forward with as much purpose as he was and saw Frank there, a look of detached determination on his face as he glanced up at Jon.
"Brendon."
"I saw," Frank answered.
The band was still playing. The number of people in the room seemed to multiply and without further warning, like a human mushroom cloud there seemed to be an implosion that ballooned outward. Jon was shoved back and to the side as he tried not to knock someone over and nearly took an elbow to the nose for his effort.
He blocked another swinging arm and the offender turned on Jon with fist raised but then folded after taking punch to the kidney. Frank again, only saving Jon's ass this time.
A woman screamed and Jon recognized faces in a blur; Zack, Spencer, and the small cruel eyes that had looked down at Brendon with contempt. A gleam of light shone near the ceiling for one brief moment as a bottle soared through the air and disappeared down into the crowd. The band had stopped playing and, as suddenly as it all had begun, it was over, leaving Jon's ears ringing.
"Brendon?" he called out, not intending to vocalize the one name that was repeating in his mind. He looked around as people parted, seeing Zack's friends strong-arming people out the door. Spencer crossed Jon's line of vision as he kneeled to the floor where Brendon was curled into an ungraceful heap, one hand limp over his face.
It felt like a brick was lodged in Jon's chest. He tried to say something but his mouth was dry and he couldn't swallow. He took a few steps forward and heard Zack and Spencer's voices.
"Come on, kid. Listen up."
"Brendon, open your eyes. Can you hear me?"
From where Jon stood, he could see Brendon's eyes flicker and roll. His body sagged slightly and then tensed again in the struggle to regain consciousness.
He let out a pained groan, pressed his hand to his temple and curled into himself a bit more.
"Brendon Urie, open your eyes," Spencer ordered. "Now, Bren, we have to know how badly you're hurt. Do we have call an ambulance?"
"G' 'way, Smith," Brendon moaned. "Ah, fucker!" Jon didn't think the last part was meant for Spencer.
Jon took the first deep breath he'd taken in what seemed like minutes. The brick feeling in Jon's chest eased and he was left with a surge of adrenaline rushing down the back of his arms; relief that Brendon was okay, but he was still thrumming with the testosterone driven urge to fight and protect. Jon began pacing, rolling his head, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders. Zack, Spencer, and now Greta were all gentling Brendon to his feet and when he turned to pace again, he saw Ryan.
He was standing only a few steps from where they'd been talking by the bar and had an unmistakable look of dread on his face. The jealous edge Jon had been feeling against him immediately softened.
"Ryan?" Jon approached. "He's okay. Hit with a bottle, I think. But okay."
Ryan's eyes darted from where he was looking at Brendon over Jon's shoulder, to Jon. Ryan looked younger and a tremor shook his thin body.
"Sure?"
"Yeah. C'mon, man." Jon was compelled to reach out and put a hand on Ryan's back and slowly, as if they were trudging through water, they moved forward together.
Brendon was pressing both palms to the sides of his head, groaning and cursing and leaning heavily into Zack.
Everyone hovering near made way for Ryan without saying a word and he stood right in front of Brendon. The look on his face might have passed for 'expressionless' to anyone who didn't know him, them, but Jon saw the profound worry in his eyes. Brendon quit complaining and stood up a little taller, dropping his hands to his sides, a sheepish, almost apologetic grin on his face as though he was trying to downplay his hurting for Ryan's sake.
The band struck a few awkward chords and then started playing again, slow and halting, trying to find their pace.
"You good?" Ryan's voice could barely be heard, but it wasn't a question. Brendon nodded and then winced, touching his head. "Let's get out of here, loser," Ryan said, putting his hand on Brendon's shoulder.
~^~
There was a lot of talking, talking by people who were not Jon, outside of the bar. Zack was apologizing for the trouble as he escorted them to Spencer's van, Patrick was offering to take Greta home, and Gerard rushed out to hug Brendon and fuss over him.
The ride home was no quieter. Spencer drove while Ryan sat next Brendon in the back. Jon had ridden in the backseat with Brendon to the bar, but he'd deferred to Ryan's unspoken claim this time. Spencer and Brendon babbled loudly, recounting their versions of events, laughing and swearing, both still flying high on the rush of it all.
Ryan laughed too, quiet and shaky, with his shoulder against Brendon's, but said little else. Jon glanced back at them from the front passenger seat. A street lamp lit Brendon's face as they turned a corner. They held each other's gaze for moment and Brendon took breath like he was going to speak just when Spencer pulled into the driveway asking him a question.
"So, how are you doing? You really think you're okay?"
"Yeah, think so. Fucking headache though. So stupid..."
Jon wasn't sure about the etiquette here. He liked Spencer. And Ryan. Mostly. No, he really did like them both, but Ryan was still trailing close to Brendon and Jon needed time with Brendon without his best friends around.
Needed.
Feeling an echo of his Cro-Magnon ancestry in his bones, he lunged at Brendon as he walked towards their house and wrapped his hands around Brendon's waist with a grunt. It was something of an ungainly bear hug, actually lifting Brendon off his feet for a second.
Brendon squawked in surprise, laughing, and put his hand over Jon's arms, maintaining the embrace.
"Are … are you guys coming over? Or what?" Spencer asked, already half way up the front steps.
Jon squeezed Brendon, pressing his nose into the curve of Brendon's neck and shoulder. He made a quiet, purring growl that he was pretty sure only Brendon heard. He hoped.
"Uh, no, guys, I'm going to Jon's." Brendon glanced back at him as well as he could with Jon all smushed up into him, and Jon nodded, already taking a few steps towards his own house, Brendon in hand. Brendon laughed and wriggled but let himself be dragged along. "Thanks, guys! For everything. Um, goodnight!"
Jon didn't look at Spencer or Ryan, not interested in seeing disapproval in their eyes. He rarely felt an urge of any kind that he didn't think he could control. Certainly not when it came to sex, preferring to move along at whatever pace his partner set, except that right now, Jon just wanted him.
"Yeah, let's go," Brendon muttered, almost unheard, but the tension in his voice was as tight as what Jon felt. "Come on."
Jon pulled the keys from his pocket and reached for the door but Brendon took them out of his hand, swearing quietly as he rushed to unlock it while Jon pressed against him, breathing hot against Brendon's neck. Once inside, Brendon turned in his arms and pulled Jon against him, leaned back on the shut door.
The house was silent and dark, except for the light he'd left on upstairs. Jon tilted his head, kissing him open and wet. The keys hit the floor with a loud ching when Brendon dropped them, pulling at Jon with a pitchy grunt. The sound of their gasping breaths and the rustle of fabric was amplified in the silence. Brendon's hands scrambled at his back, clutching handfuls of his shirt and hair, nearly rising to his toes as he pulled at Jon. He answered in kind, pressing against Brendon, every part of his body craving the contact. He ran his hands up Brendon's torso and chest, still hot and humid, and pushed the white jacket off his shoulders. They arched just enough for it to fall to the ground behind them before Brendon's back hit the door again with a muffled 'hmph' against Jon's tongue.
Brendon raised one knee so that it nudged the outside of Jon's thigh and he shifted it forward, pressing it up between Brendon's legs. Brendon maneuvered one hand down, palming Jon's ass. It was a thrill to feel how Brendon wanted him just as badly. He pulled back only long enough to swallow and gasp, encouraging Brendon with a chesty hum before tasting his mouth again.
It seemed the natural move to make, to reach up and hold Brendon's face as he kissed him, but when he did, Brendon hissed, jerking with tension and folding slightly into himself. The instant he did it, Jon's better sense got a hold of him.
"Shit, sorry," Jon panted, out a breath, stepping back a bit. "Sorry. You, 'kay?"
Brendon touched the side of head and shrugged, letting out a nervous laugh. "I'm, it's, it still really hurts, I guess."
Jon took a deep breath, blowing out slowly as he adjusted the frustrated and confused erection in his pants and wiped his mouth dry. "Right. No, of course."
"I'm sorry." Brendon looked small again and almost sad as the upstairs light fell over Jon's shoulder onto his face.
"Hey, no," Jon whispered. He kissed Brendon again on closed lips, then stretched up to kiss his forehead, rubbing up and down his arms. Brendon relaxed into him a little. "How about some aspirin?"
"Please. Fuck," he whimpered.
"Okay. And how about, like, tea? I think there's tea."
Brendon smirked. "Still got that really strong cinnamon that Olivia had?"
~^~
The cats came up one by one to investigate Brendon, carefully nosing at his injury and head-butting him in demand of scritches. For some reason, cats believed that if you pet them it made you feel better. … And damn them if they weren't right.
"I'm okay, baby," Brendon muttered to Dylan as he curled into his lap. The cat glared at Jon when he gave Brendon aspirin and a pair of sweats to change into. Jon got the feeling Dylan wasn't pleased with what he'd seen Jon doing to him and probably thought Jon was the one who had hurt him.
The thought made him chuckle on his way to the kitchen to catch the whistling kettle.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing. Cat. Never mind. Sorry."
The tea smelled good and the time it took to make it helped him relax, which made sense because he wasn't sure he'd ever actually drank a whole cup of tea and he wondered if it was only the preparation and not the drinking that was actually calming.
"I guess it was all sort of my fault," Brendon said, staring into his mug.
"At the bar? No way."
Brendon let out a humorless laugh. "Just, I didn't get to say … I didn't know he'd, Eric, would be there tonight. You know? And we just kind of wanted to say goodbye? He's met someone …too." Brendon gave Jon a cautious glance and his hands floundered a bit, nearly spilling his tea. "But now I'm kind of worried about him and I'm sorry I ruined the night for everyone."
"Well, you guys promised 'night life' and you totally delivered. I wonder what's gonna happen next time?"
Brendon smiled a little, but there was still a crease between his eyebrows, leaving Jon feeling dumb for trying make a joke.
"Honest, you didn't ruin anything. Hey, come here." He put his mug down, scooting Dylan and the others out of the way as turned on the couch and pulled Brendon on top of him. He wanted to be comforting but didn't trust himself to keep talking and make matters worse.
Brendon's hands were on his face, not holding too tight, but just betraying his own eagerness, which Jon had no problem with. They kissed gently, only for a moment, before Brendon pushed back. His weight settled onto Jon as he relaxed, making the subtle declaration that he wasn't going anywhere. Just to further clarify that Brendon was welcome where was, Jon put his hands high on Brendon's sides, just below his ribs.
Brendon's middle fingers rubbed circles behind Jon's earlobes while his thumbs rasped over his beard.
"You always have this?" Brendon asked, scratching his fingers through the hair along Jon's jaw and gliding a thumb around the rim of Jon's bottom lip.
"Only over the last year. I get a hair cut now and then and just shave it off." He shrugged and jutted his jaw against Brendon's fingers stroking at his chin. "I usually just let it grow again."
Brendon nodded, eyes fixing on Jon's bottom lip before leaning down to kiss it. "Good." The tiny kiss turned into something fuller, deeper, but not like it had been before inside the door.
Jon was still hard, so hard, and he could feel that Brendon was too, but he didn't grind or press upward. It was only days ago that Brendon had mentioned his virginity and Jon figured he'd done so for a reason. He wanted whatever they did - this thing - to mean something significant. Jon had every hope of achieving that significance.
The longer Brendon's weight bore down on him and the wetter his mouth got, he began to let his hands glide up and down Brendon's back, skimming around and over the upper curve of Brendon's ass. He didn't follow his inclination to squeeze but he wasn't shy about touching either. Just enough to let Brendon know that he was fully on board with this.
"Jon?" Brendon eventually said, pulling away and resting his cheek on Jon's shoulder.
"Hmm?" Jon still had one hand on his ass while the other threaded through the hair at the back of Brendon's neck.
"Um, you won't think it's some lame ass excuse if I say I have a headache, right? 'Cause, seriously. Ow."
"No, man, it's cool. Want me to take you home?" He was still petting up and down Brendon's back and really didn't want to.
"Nuh-uh." Brendon shook his head.
"Okay. Stay here?"
Brendon nodded, burrowing against Jon's chest with a hopeful whine.
"Yeah. Right here." He hugged Brendon tight, kissed his head, and thought that actual sleep was going to be out of the question.
~^~
It was the chill that washed over him after Brendon got up that woke him. He heard Brendon use the bathroom and didn't even open his eyes, just curled into the warm place against the back of the couch where Brendon's 110 degree body had been. He drifted into contented dreams of breakfast together and cuddles and kissing. Definitely more kissing.
But when he jerked upright to the sound of Clover and Garfunkle nudging their food dish across the kitchen floor in demand of being fed that he realized he was alone. Cold and alone, how cliché.
Jon didn't let it nag at him. Surely Brendon had work to do or had something planned with Greta that morning. He showered after catching the smeared eyeliner circles in his reflection and then he edited photos for a few brainless hours. None of it kept him from replaying the night before; the way they'd kissed in the middle of a crowded bar, and the heart skipping sight of Brendon on the floor and then the frantic way Brendon's hands had clawed at him when they got home. Jon was pretty sure he hadn't misread any of those signs.
After lying back on his bed throwing his phone up in the air several dozen times, he eventually texted, dinner 2nite?
Fifteen minutes later came, girls nite sry
After five minutes there was another. sorry
He didn't want to be angry. He really didn't. But confusion sometimes felt the same.
~^~
Part 4
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 11:00 am (UTC)Brendon kept his eyes at Jon's throat but he smirked. "Jaunty. Jawn-tee. Jaun-tay.".......
That really doesn't seem like it should be anywhere near as sexy as it is. My word.
......Spencer smacked his arm and Jon was flooded with the giddy sensation that came from being on the receiving end of his smile.......
Yes!
That's what she said! ha!
Fucking epic headline. lol
.....Gerard, he recognized, with the ever-intriguing appearance of a 30 year old woman trapped in a 15 year old boy's body.....
*snort* so ridiculously true!
...Brendon slung his arm around Gerard, who seemed to startle. He exhaled smoke through his tight smile. "Hey, B. Hey."........
You have this brilliant way of capturing gerard. When are you writing a gerard fic????
Minor typo... "and saw Frank there, a look a detached look of determination"
Oh my lord when jon grabs brendon and GROWLS at him. Oh Yes. not just sexy as hell but so clever and real.
Oh he woke up cold and alone! Ick. Oh no.
Sorry. You probably really don't need me quoting half the story back at you. Just tell me to shut up!
no subject
Date: 2009-02-14 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-15 09:12 am (UTC)I trust you. :-)
no subject
Date: 2009-05-27 10:26 am (UTC)Ahahaha.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-27 10:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 11:17 am (UTC)k. will stop spamming you now. :D