Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Pairing: Ryan/Spencer with very minor Brendon/Jon
Warnings: Allusions to underage sex, but nothing explicit.
Summary: Ryan takes a deep breath and plunges ahead. "I think about that day all the time," he confesses. Spencer doesn’t have to ask What day? Because he knows, he was there. Besides, it’s the only thing they don’t talk about.
"I do too," he says quietly.
Word Count: 1829
Disclaimer: I do not know these people, this never happened, I am making no money off of anything.
A/N: Betaed by pressdbtwnpages and insunshine.
Ryan sits on Spencer’s bed, kicking his legs. “So what do you want to do?”
Spencer glances at him, then back down at his hands. He’s tapping out a rhythm with his fingers on his knee. “I dunno.”
Spencer isn’t looking at him, so Ryan sneaks a glance at his long eyelashes. Spencer is prettier than most girls he knows, and even if that is kind of a queer thing to think, it’s still true. They are silent for a long moment. No one else is home, and the room is filled with the sound of quiet breathing.
“Spence?” Ryan says. “Do you ever, you know...” He pumps his fist up and down in the air in front of him a few times.
“Of course,” Spencer says, not at all fazed. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“Right, yeah,” Ryan says. He doesn’t know why he asked, really. It was just something to say, because he was curious, though he’s not sure it’s really something that teenage boys are supposed to ask each other about. Spencer’s not going to judge him, so he continues. “What do you think about?”
Spencer jerks his head up. “What?”
“What do you think about when you jerk off?” This starts at a normal volume and ends in a whisper. Ryan stares at his feet.
“Um. I dunno. Madeline Williams, mostly. She’s this really hot eighth grader. What about you?”
Ryan pauses, then says, “Stacy Thomas. From math class.”
Spencer nods. Ryan stares at his feet some more before asking, “How do you know you’re doing it right?”
Spencer squints at him. “There’s a wrong way to do it?”
“Yeah, I guess not... kind of stupid, huh?”
“Not that stupid.” Ryan looks at him gratefully. “If you wanted,” Spencer says tentatively, “I could watch your technique and give you some pointers.”
Ryan blushes hard at that, but he thinks about it – thinks about Spencer seeing him like that, and then thinks about seeing Spencer like that, one hand on his dick, panting. He’s hard instantly. “Um. Okay. I guess.”
They avoid each other's eyes, after - after they watch each other come, sneaking glances more than is probably normal for sheer curiosity, after Spencer says awkwardly, “We should, um, clean up,” and passes Ryan a handful of tissues, after Ryan says, “Yeah,” hesitantly, staring at the floor, after they pull their pants back on, after Spencer’s parents pull into the driveway and shout upstairs, “We’re home!” and Spencer shouts back, “Hi!” and Ryan says, “Well, I guess I’d better be going.”
They are eleven and twelve, which is young enough to still blame everything on, and that is what they do. They blame the whole thing on pubescent stupidity and never discuss it again.
Yeah, there are gay rumors. You can’t be famous in the twenty-first century and avoid them. Brendon enjoys playing it up, and most of the time the rest of the band does too, but he’s definitely the most obvious about it.
Another weird thing about fame is that sometimes they get invited to go to a bar or a club after a show. If they’re not going anywhere until at least morning, Brendon and Jon might go out for a drink or two. Usually, they’re not drunk when they come back – they just like the taste of alcohol once in a while. Ryan’s okay with their drinking as long as he doesn’t have to deal with it. Spencer usually waits up to make sure they’re sober, then goes to check on Ryan.
Tonight, though, Brendon’s upset about some news from home. It’s probably a bad idea to let him go to a bar, but he insists, and Jon says he could use a drink himself.
When they get back to the hotel, Brendon is plastered. He’s swaying as he walks, saying things like, “I wish we had a magician on our bus,” and “Look how dark it is here, Jon Walker. There are so many stars. I wonder if there are exactly eighty-four billion twenty-three.” Jon steadies him, keeping him on his feet.
Spencer and Ryan are both waiting up this time – well, not so much waiting up as deep in conversation in Brendon and Jon’s room. Spencer sees Brendon and Jon first and mutters, “Oh no,” under his breath. Ryan hears him anyway.
“What?” he says, looking up.
“I think we should have a singing contest,” Brendon announces from the doorway, where he’s leaning on Jon. “First one who doesn’t know the words loses.”
Jon says gently, “Brendon? It’s time for bed, okay?” He turns to Ryan and Spencer. “I’m so sorry, guys. I tried to take his glass away, but he was determined to get drunk.”
Spencer looks angry, but Ryan just says, “It’s okay, Jon, really.” He knows Spencer will have some choice words for Brendon in the morning.
Now Brendon turns to look at Jon. “I like you, Jon Walker,” he says. “I really like you.” He kisses Jon probably more forcefully than he’d intended, then throws himself on the closest bed and promptly falls asleep. Jon looks bewildered.
“You should keep a garbage can on the floor next to him,” Ryan says quietly, “and make sure his head’s to the side.”
Jon nods. “Thanks.”
“’Night,” Spencer says. He grabs Ryan’s hand, dragging him into their adjoining room. “Hey. You okay?”
“That was... special,” Spencer says. “Oh god, can you imagine Brendon with a hangover? Tomorrow's going to be hell.”
A few minutes pass in awkward silence, until Ryan can’t stand it anymore. “So I guess Brendon’s... gay or bi or something, huh?”
Spencer looks away. “Guess so.”
“That’s cool. Right?”
“Of course!” He sounds indignant, like, If anyone thinks I am a homophobe, Ryan Ross, it should definitely not be you. How long have we known each other, again?
Ryan takes a deep breath and plunges ahead. “I think about that day all the time,” he confesses. Spencer doesn’t have to ask What day? Because he knows, he was there. Besides, it’s the only thing they don’t talk about.
“I do too,” he says quietly.
Ryan looks at him, trying to decide whether it’s worth it to take this chance and realizing that if he doesn’t now, he never will. “I lied, Spence. I never imagined Stacy Thomas. I just didn’t want to tell you that I thought about you.” There it is. He braces himself for Spencer’s disgust, for awkwardness and skirting around each other for weeks to come until Spencer decides to stop being weird about it and they pretend this night never happened, too.
“Do you still?” It’s so soft he thinks he must have heard wrong, but Spencer’s eyes are gentle, imploring. He nods, just barely.
And then Spencer is kissing him, lips soft and sweet. Ryan has fantasized about this for so long that it doesn’t seem real. He parts his lips just the tiniest bit to allow Spencer’s tongue inside.
Spencer kisses him gently, like he thinks Ryan is fragile, like he’ll break if handled without caution. Ryan deepens the kiss, pulling Spencer’s hips into his, hard, so Spencer will know he’s not breakable. They've known each other for so long that this should be awkward, but it's not. Somehow, it just feels right. Maybe because Ryan has subconsciously wanted it for years.
He can feel Spencer’s hard-on through their pants, and it’s not enough, he needs more right now. He pulls away enough to say, “Pants off. Now.” Spencer grins and complies, yanking off his jeans and flinging them across the room to land on a lamp. Ryan does the same before pulling Spencer onto the bed. Horizontal is good. He kisses Spencer again, rocking his hips into Spencer’s feverishly. Spencer’s face is flushed and his breathing is heavy. His mouth and eyes are wide open, staring at Ryan and panting. He still has his boxers still on, tenting in the front, waiting for Ryan to do something, anything. Ryan would have paid all the money in the world just to see Spencer like this, to have Spencer in his bed.
Instinctively, he moves down Spencer's body, yanking off first his shirt and then his boxers. Ryan takes a minute to catch his breath, to continue taking in the sight of his best friend like this, looking wanton and gorgeous and so hard, breathing as heavily as Ryan is in anticipation.
He’s got Spencer’s cock in his mouth before he realizes he’s got no idea what he’s doing. Spencer sucks in his breath fast and Ryan reaches up a hand to tangle their fingers together. Spencer’s grip is tight and comforting. Ryan lifts his head to look at Spencer, who gazes at him with unconcealed desire. Since he doesn't really know what he's doing, he improvises, dropping his head back down and licking around the head of Spencer’s cock. He wraps the hand not holding Spencer’s around the shaft. He licks and sucks as much as he can fit in his mouth without gagging. It’s not unpleasant, really. It’s not his favorite thing in the world, but he’s definitely not unhappy to be here like this. After a minute or two, Spencer starts thrusting into his mouth, panting. Ryan gets the idea, moving his head up and down in time with Spencer’s thrusts. Spencer’s making this high-pitched “Mmm” noises that are just about the hottest thing Ryan’s ever heard. He pushes his hips into the mattress, fucking it the best he can with Spencer in his mouth.
He sucks and licks until Spencer warns, “Ryan.” Then he pulls his mouth off with a pop, looking into Spencer’s eyes as he strokes him hard and fast.
It may not be the best handjob in the world, and it is undoubtedly not the best blowjob, but both do the trick. Spencer lets out a high-pitched whining noise, coming all over his chest and stomach. His hand clenches Ryan’s, squeezing tightly for a moment before letting go, loose and languid.
Ryan starts to reach for his own cock, but Spencer shakes his head, wordlessly pulling Ryan back up to face him. He touches Ryan, stroking him firmly but not too roughly, which is just how Ryan likes it. It only takes a minute for him to come, shaking. Spencer pecks him on the lips and grabs the box of tissues that’s sitting on the nightstand between the two double beds. He cleans them both up, and for a while they just lie there, looking at each other. Ryan wants to say, “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?” but he’s afraid to break the moment or sound idiotic. Instead, he thinks about himself at twelve and Spencer at eleven, inexperienced and afraid. “Hey, Spence,” he says. “What do you think about when you jerk off?”
Spencer grins, and this time, he doesn’t say the name of some girl. This time he just says, “You,” and kisses Ryan again.