Fic: In which Brendon Has Anger Management Problems And Ryan Doesn't Help.

Pairing: Brendon/Ryan
Rating: R
Words: 1,344
Summary:
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ink and the parchment..

Its morning, and Brendon Urie has woken up in a foul mood. He hasnt felt like this, felt this twisting,
writhing, seething coil of pure unpleasantness weighing heavy in the pit of his stomach in a long time
and on a normal day it would have taken him by surprise. But this is not a normal day, and Brendon is
not in the mood to be surprised.
He storms out of his bunk and into the tiny kitchen area of the bus in search of hot chocolate, just
daring something or someone to get in his way so he can kick their motherfucking ass. He finds sugar,
milk, a spoon and even spots his favourite snoopy mug lying clean on the draining-board to the left of
the sink. When, however, he reaches for the cocoa powder, he finds it totally empty which Brendon
knows is not how he left it yesterday morning. Theres a low chuckle from the doorway and Brendon
spins sharply to glare at the wraith-like form of Ryan Ross leaning against the frame, a steaming mug
of what is unmistakably the last of Brendons special Cadbury Swirl clutched tight between his fingers.
Brendon flails and makes grabby hands for the cup but Ryan backs away, still chuckling. Nuh-uh,
mine.
Brendons eyes narrow and he takes a step forward, growling deep in his throat with as much venom
as he can muster. Ryan only giggles and darts away, escaping back to the safety of the bunks.
***
Ryan bumps into him as theyre leaving the bus. He doesnt mean to, Brendon knows this, but he cant
control the anger that surges up from deep within his gut at the brush of Ryans shoulder against his
own as he turns and shoves him back roughly and hisses What the fuck is your problem, Ross?
Ryan gives him a look of mild bewilderment but pokes him back gently on the shoulder, a small,
bemused smile beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. Brendon lets out a wordless cry of
frustration and pushes right past him and off the bus, ignores Ryans softly amused voice as it calls
after him from the quiet of the stairwell. Just.. not now.
***
Theyre at soundcheck, and Brendon is still cursing the world at large. The music is distracting as
always, however and hes getting lost in the rhythm and melody of their songs. He knows them. Hes
played them a thousand times before, and theyre the perfect excuse to detatch from his brain for a
while. Hes just hit the chorus of Folkin Around when an E-string snaps and flies up, cutting a sharp
gash across his cheek.
Fucking OW! He yelps and glares daggers down at his guitar, seriously toying with the idea of
abusing his rock star status by throwing a truly massive diva fit to rival even those of
RyanmotherfuckingRoss. The cut isnt deep but damn it, it really fucking hurts and Brendon is angry,
okay?! Its then that he hears it; the same low chuckle that tormented him this morning and something
inside of him snaps. He points a shaking finger in Ryans direction and screams I HATE YOU! before
throwing his guitar into the arms of an unsuspecting tech and storming off the stage.
Even from deep within the heart of backstage Brendons a speedy little fucker when he wants to be
he can still hear Ryans faint I know.
***
Ryan puts down his guitar and steps up to the mic.
Hey there Vegas, its so good to be home! You missed us? The crowd roars and Ryan turns to grin
manically, or, at least, as manically as it is possible for Ryan Ross to grin, in Brendons direction.
So as you all probably know, tonight is a special night, Brendon groans. A very special night.
Because tonight, Ryan walks over and slings an arm around Brendons shoulders, Is our Brendons
birthday! The kids in the crowd scream their approval as Brendon hides his face in his hands.
So I was wondering, Ryan continues, completely ignoring Brendons obvious discomfort (and the
eye-daggers that Brendon is shooting him from behind his fingers.), if youd help us celebrate? The
roar gets even louder, and Brendon can feel the stain of the blush as it starts to burn its way across his
cheeks.
You think you can do that? Will you sing for him? Another hysterical roar. Okay, after three! One..
two.. THREE! Brendon closes his eyes.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU,
This is not happening.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU,
SO not happening. Brendon is not in the mood for this, damn it.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR BRENDON,
Ryan conducts the crowd and Brendon wants to snap off his stupid, twiggy arms.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY.. TO.. YOU!
Jon harmonises on the rallentando at the end, and Brendon is not a happy Urie. The song finishes,
and the crowd erupts into thunderous applause. Now this is a song I wrote and tonight, Brendon, its
all for you.
The opening bars of Behind The Sea chime in as Brendon states quite clearly into his mic George Ryan
Ross the third, I hate you!
Ryan grins and blows him a kiss. Brendon Urie, the one and only, I know!
And theyre away.
***
After Brendons fifth birthday chorus of the evening subsides into drunken slurs, Brendon catches
Ryans arm and pulls him close. He has to crane his neck to catch Ryans gaze, and it takes him a
minute to capture his full attention; Ryans eyes are clouded, lost in the haze of the party going on all
around them, but when he does he considers him intently for a long moment before saying quietly
You owe me a present, asshole. Ryans eyes darken instantly and his fingers tangle with Brendons
own as he leads him backwards through the crowded room towards the door and the cab that Brendon
knows will take them back to their hotel. Their breathing is ragged, harsh in the cool night air as they
wait outside the club Brendon hears Ryan take a deep, tense breath before murmuring back I know.
***
I hate you, Ryan slams Brendon back against the door as their mouths collide; hard, hot, passionate,
everything that Brendon hasnt realised hed been silently craving all fucking day.
*
I.. fuck.. I hate you! Brendon pants out as they struggle and tear at eachothers clothes, fabric
falling in a frantic waterfall of scarves and shirts and belts.
*
Hate..I fucking..I..I.. I Hate.. Brendon mewls and fails to stifle a gasp as he rocks back against
Ryans cool, slick fingers. He wants more. He needs more. He needs Ryan
*
Brendon is totally speechless as Ryan fucks him, capable only of whimpers, gasps, moans as he silently
begs. At first its slow and sweet, but it gets harder, faster, deeper and Brendon is lost to the
tightening of his belly, the fire spreading out through his limbs even as his mind opens up at last and,
in a moment of utter, perfect clarity he cries I hate you! before coming so hard that all he sees for
a long while are stars. He feels Ryan follow a moment later with a strangled moan of Brendon.., and
yeah. This right now
***
Theyre curled up together. Brendons the little spoon hes always the little spoon, and Ryan never
argues and, for the first time all day, hes feeling completely content.
You okay now? Ryan whispers into his hair, his hot breath tickling the nape of Brendons neck.
Brendon hums in agreement and snuggles closer.
Thank you.
Ryan chuckles. Anytime. They lie in peaceful silence for a handful of minutes.
Ry? Brendon whispers into the still darkness.
Mmhm? Ryan mumbles back sleepily.
Hate you.
Silence.
You love me.
Brendon smiles. Swhat I said.
He feels Ryans own smile on his lips as his presses them gently to Brendons temple. I know.
And they fall asleep.
***
When his alarm clock buzzes him into consciousness the next morning, Brendon Urie finds himself in
an awesome mood.

fin