Unapologetic Love Story (2/2)

[astoryandasong]

Asylum is, of course, full of their friends. Even Brian, the owner, is peering around to catch sight of them.

Bob is aware, very suddenly, of how close he is to Brendon, how his hand has settled at the small of Brendon's back. That they have officially, in the eyes of their friends, become a couple. In a couple of months they will be 'Bob and Brendon' in the way that there is a 'Pete and Patrick' or an 'Alicia and Mikey'.  This thought doesn't bother him at all.   He looks at Brendon and sees the same thought reflected in his face.

Ray's smile at the sight of them is really fucking huge.

"Hey you guys, Bob and Brendon totally showed."

"I expected that you guys would sneak off to make out and shit." Pete has somehow obtained caffeine. Patrick nods in their direction, with what Bob guesses is an indulgent sigh.

Gerard is beaming.

Bob loves him so much.

"Frankie couldn't make it. But he says that Pencey are doing another gig next week and you guys should come."

"Yeah. We're all gonna go. Group invasion." Jon's trying for casual but he's a massive Pencey fan.  When he's realised his boyfriend's friend was friends with the lead singer's boyfriend? Brendon told Bob that Spencer almost broke a rib laughing.

"Totally. Frankie will be so pleased."

Ray laughs.

"Dude, we should take Linda. Frankie would just die."

"Nevermind Frankie, I hope to actually be able to touch my boyfriend at some point without worrying about his mother."

"Hey, where did Ryan and Spence go?" Bob manages to score an armchair and Brendon perches on the arm.

"Uh, Spencer has some test thing tomorrow for that horrendous calculus class he takes, and Ryan is channeling his inner child or something. You know those phases he goes through where he forgets to eat and wash?"

"Please don't tell me he’s smoking cloves again."

"I did catch a distinct whiff."

"Thank god Spence is there. The last time he fell asleep smoking one and nearly killed us all."

And that’s how it goes for the next two hours. By the time everyone starts leaving, Bob is drifting gently, a hand on Brendon’s back. Not really talking anymore. Just listening, taking it in.

 “Hey there.” It’s Brendon, shaking him softly. Only Gerard and Ray are left, talking quietly to Brian on the other side of the coffee bar.

  “You look kind of beat.”

 “All that piracy really took it out of me.”

 “You know, you haven’t asked me out on another date yet, so I’m just going to go ahead. Terribly forward of me, I know.”

 Bob kind of wants to pull Brendon into his lap right now. Partly to cuddle and partly for more sex type things.  He just laughs a little and nods, trying to ignore the way Brendon bites his lip.

 “So how would you feel about a free concert at the park? Picnic, classical music, complete lack of Pete Wentz…”

 “I would feel pretty good about that. Also, Emmylou Harris is playing next month. I could get some tickets, if you were into that sort of stuff.”

 “Yeah. Yeah I am, I would love that.”

 “Listen, I’m gonna catch a ride back with Ray. You go and save Spencer from Ryan and his clove cigarettes.”

 “That is such a good idea. You are so full of good ideas tonight.” Brendon stretches and says his goodbyes to Ray and Gerard.

 “I’ll walk you to your car.”

 “Oh Bob Bryar, you are a gentleman. Frankie was totally lying to me.”

 They bump shoulders on the way back to the car, and when Brendon turns to say goodbye, Bob catches his face in his hands and kisses him very, very slowly. Brendon’s hands end up on Bob’s hips, stroking very softly.

 When Bob pulls away, Brendon’s lips are swollen. He runs his tongue over them, and it’s all Bob can do not to just invite him back up to his apartment already. To feel Brendon’s skin. But he doesn’t, and Brendon gets in his car and leaves.

 Ray raises an eyebrow as he walks back in alone, and Gerard looks slightly approving.

In which The Past is discussed, exes are dissed, and Gerard is an excellent baker

Brian is closing up, so they end up back at Gerard’s, drinking his engine-oil coffee and eating what have to be the best brownies Bob has ever had, including his mother’s, though he’d never say so to her face.

 The house was once Miss Helena’s, and Bob has spent so much time here that he knows every scratch on the table, every groove in the floorboards. The kitchen, dimly lit by a single over head lamp, is where he sat and told Gerard and Ray that he was gay, where he told them that he was leaving Belleville. It was where he was sitting when he heard that Miss Helena had died.

 When his mother moved here from Ohio, young and pregnant, Miss Helena and Donna Way were the first people to stop by and offer some help. Come on over for a talk, a coffee. Do you have anyone to go to the doctor’s with you?  There had been others, later, but Helena and Donna were the first, and Bob’s mother had never forgotten that, not once.

 Bob grew up in this kitchen almost as much as his mother’s.

 Gerard and Ray are content to sit with him and drink from chipped mugs until he finally gets around to talking. It’s the first time they’ve really been alone in the three weeks he’s been back.

 “I missed this place.”

 “You’re always welcome, you know that. Always have been.” Gerard doesn’t say that it was Bob who stayed away. He doesn’t have to.

“I know. I’m sorry, for you know, being a jerk.”

 Ray puts down his mug. His expression is one Bob is familiar with- it’s the expression he gets when he is considering how honest to be with someone. Like something he might say could hurt.

 “We understood. We didn’t like it, but we understood. We were sorry about Mark, but we weren’t surprised. He was bad news, and he treated you badly. It was a sad thing, Bob, that you thought he was worthy of you.”

 

Bob runs his fingers over the scratches in the oak.

 “I knew it was a bad idea the minute we got there. It was only my sheer fucking stubborn that kept me away so long.”

“We missed you, and we’re glad you came home.”

 Ray smiled, and Gerard patted his hand.

 “Now you have to tell us something.”

 “What?” Mock warily.

 “How are things with Brendon?”

 Because it’s Ray and Gerard and because he kind of fucking owes them, he decides to tell the truth.

 “I really, really like him. I mean, we’ve only known each other what? Two and a half weeks? We’ve been on two dates.  Half by the way, of the second was spent with you guys.”

 “And?” Ray Toro is a giant gossip whore. He even reads Star magazine. Bob’s seen it in his toilet.

 “And I think I will continue to see him in a date-like fashion for the foreseeable future.”

“You’re pretty serious about this, aren’t you?”

 Gerard is right; Bob has never been a casual guy. If he likes you enough to date you once, it means he actually really likes you.  If he dates you twice, you can call it going steady and start picking out your china. Gerard knows it as well, the bastard.

 “I’m really glad for you, Bob. And Brendon. He deserves to be happy as much as you do. His last boyfriend was an asshole, and his parents are giant fucking assholes too, from what I’ve heard.”

 Ray yawns massively.

 “Sorry you guys. I’m gonna go crash in the spare. Tell me everything tomorrow though.”

 He shuffles off, waving goodnight.

 Gerard refills the coffee before saying anything else.

 

"From what I can tell, Brendon is just as into you as you are to him, and that makes me happy. Don't wait around, Bob. "

Bob draws breath to reply, but there's a clatter and a bang and there's Mikey Way himself. Smiling at the sight of them, now that they're all home.

He sleeps on Gerard's couch that night, too lazy to go home, and stops by his mom's house in the morning.

As per usual she's up and ready by nine, and as soon as he walks in the door he can smell the coffee and toast wafting from the kitchen.

His mother is a tiny woman, compared to him, thin and spare where he is muscular. Her eyes are the same blue as his though, and her hair was the same shade of strawberry blond before the gray set in.
He watches her for a second, absorbed in her morning paper, before deciding not to give her a fright. So he rattles the door a little louder and waits until she raises her head.

"Hey mom. I was a just over at Gee's house. Thought I'd stop by."

"I'm just about to go over to Ann's, honey, as soon as I finish this coffee. But you can walk me over there if you like."

"Sure.  It's on my way. I won't come in though, my cheeks still haven't recovered from the last time."

He waits for her to finish her coffee quietly, glancing at the sports pages. She had had a boyfriend once who liked the sports pages and had tried in vain to convince Bob that he should like them too. The poor guy had spent hours trying to coax Bob into football, baseball, anything, in fact, that could be considered a sport.   He never took to it, but he got into the habit of looking at the sports pages anyway to keep the guy happy.

"How is Gerard, anyway? He still seeing Linda's boy?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. They're still going out."

"Is he doing well in college?"

"Oh yeah. Brilliant. He's going to be putting a show on soon."

"How nice. And Mikey?"

"Who knows with Mikey. He could be majoring in evil genius studies for all he says about school."

She laughs and starts putting her coat on.

"I saw Mrs Toro yesterday at the bakery. Raymond's such a lovely boy."

Bob rolls his eyes and she flings some gloves at him.

"I'm a Mom, Robert Bryar, I'm allowed to say things like that."

He just grins at her and holds the gloves out to her. He ends up carrying two casserole dishes all the way to Ann's and getting his cheeks pinched again.

I want sometimes gets (or, I would rather be with you)

After escaping from Ann's grabby clutches, he makes his way back to his own apartment and prepares for a serious night of x-box and pizza. What he really wants to do is call Brendon and ask him over, ask him out. Back to Milly's, or on the comfort of his sofa.

He's just about to start a game of Helo when his phone starts buzzing. Mikey's changed his ringtones to bad covers by American Idol contestants. Some dude is murdering The Beatles, so he doesn't even look at the screen- he just wants to make that shit stop.

"Hello?"

"Hey Bob, how are you?"

His brain starts going Brendon, fuck fuck fuck BRENDON, but he manages to reply.

"Fine. Just playing x-box. Eating junk, you know. How are you?"

"Bored. Really, mind-numbingly bored. Everyone's doing some project thing that the fascists in social science imposed on us. I told Spence that Ryan taking Anthro 101 was a bad idea."

"You don't take that class?"

"No, they take it while I take extra instruments. I would just go practice but they're all concentrate-y."

"Is that even a word?"

"Do I look like an English major to you? Ask Wentz."

"Oh god, no."

Brendon laughs, and Bob wishes he was there with him. They could snuggle and play Guitar Hero. They could eat pizza and make out.

"I tried playing scrabble with him once. It was awful. And Patrick- for a little dude he has a lot of rage."

"So what you're saying is, you called because you were bored as Pete is bad at scrabble?"

"No. Well, yes. Yes and no. Yes, I'm bored, yes, Pete is bad at Scrabble. But no- that's not the main reason I called. I called because I didn't see you today and I wanted to see you but then I thought oh god Brendon, don't be lame. So I called you, instead. But I really wanted to come over and see you."

Bob's brain starts playing catch-up. He wants to see you, he likes you. A lot.

"No, no you're not. It's not lame. I uh, wanted to see you too."

"Cool."

"I would actually rather be spending time with you than my x-box."

"You know, Ray would say they should take away your man-card for that."

"I don't think I ever really had one."

"Nah, me neither. I don't actually even know anyone who does."

"Not even Ray."

"Nope. Jon Walker is the most likely candidate. But since he's not asshole..."

Bob spits the diet coke in his mouth all over a stray doily. Brendon is totally laughing at him, fucker.

"The first time I saw you I thought you might be a man-card carrier. I thought, wow, he's hot but he'll totally dunk my head in a toilet. Then Gerard was all OMG HAI BOB and I knew that you weren't."

"I have never dunked a guy's head in a toilet for thinking I'm hot. Mind you, that doesn't happen often, so there you go."

"Dude, shut up. We're both totally hot. We are, in fact, one smoking hot couple. Joe Trohman even says so."

"Oh well, if Joe Trohman says so, it must be true."

"Yeah. The dude knows his shit."

 “His weed, you mean.”

 “Did he ever tell you what he’s making for art this semester?”

 “No, and I’m not sure I want to know.”

 “Dude, don’t hate! It’s a Barbie hair rug.”

 “If we were texting, this is where I would use the letters oh em gee in capital letters to signal the fact that that is crazy.”

 “It’s some sort of statement about feminism and consumerism and some other isms, at least that’s what he said. But mostly I think he just wants one and was disappointed it hadn’t been invented yet.”

 Bob waits for the laughter from that to die off a little, before taking a deep breath.

 “You could still come over, you know. We don’t have class tomorrow or anything.”

 Brendon’s silent for a moment and Bob is afraid then, until he hears Brendon’s answering sigh.

 “I think…I think that would be good. I’ll be over in say, twenty minutes?”

 “Yeah.”

 If Bob was a girl, he would use the twenty minutes to maybe check for excess body hair, change into some sexy undies and flat-iron his fringe. As he’s a guy, owns only black boxers and has a pretty sweet beard, he does none of these things.

 He does, however, call Gerard. Whose line, dammit, is engaged. So he calls Ray Toro. Not because Ray is like, a second-best or anything, but Ray is actually pretty straight, and Bob always feels a bit less awkward talking to Gerard about stuff like this.

But it’s a fucking emergency, and Bob needs moral support right now.

 “Ray?”

 “Um, Yes?” He sounds vaguely suspicious.

 “I just asked Brendon over, and I really think that I might end up having sex with him.”

 “Okay…and is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

 “Good thing, I think. But I just had to check that I’m not making a huge mistake.”

 “You’re not.”

“Okay.”

 “Okay. Um, I was going to say have a good time, but that sounds creepy, so I’ll settle for see you later.”

 And then he hangs up.

 On second thoughts, maybe he should check for any excess body hair. It’s a shame he can’t see his own back in a mirror properly.

 He resists the urge to pace a little, to fluff cushions or do something, anything, to distract himself from the fact that Brendon is on his way over.

Finally, the doorbell goes, and there's Brendon Urie, flushed and messy-haired.

Before Bob can say anything Brendon is inside, backing him up against the wall and kissing him.  Bob only just manages to get the door shut behind him before every piece of his consciousness is taken over by the feel of Brendon's lips on his.

His hands twist a little at the side before he lets them rest on Brendon's hips. Brendon's hands are cupping his face, as if almost to hold him there.

Brendon pulls away, a little breathless, even more flushed. His hands go down to hold Bob's.

"Sorry, sorry, Bob. I've been thinking about that the whole way over."

"Don't say sorry. “Bob says, and before Brendon's face can crumple he leans in and kisses him lightly.

"Oh good. We're on the same page, then." Brendon says, their faces still close.

"I think so." His stomach does a little flip. "I have this new mattress from Ikea. This really hot guy helped me pick it out. I'm kind of hoping he's going to try it out with me."

"Is this guy your boyfriend?"

"I think so. I hope so."

"Then I'm sure if you ask him real nice..." Brendon's lips are a breath away from his.

"Brendon Urie, would you like to go to bed with me?"

"Why Bob Bryar, I thought you'd never ask."

Right where you’re standing (yeah)

They bypass the living room completely, and start shedding clothes as they go along the hall. Brendon's shirt narrowly misses knocking over a lamp, Bob loses his somewhere near the sofa.  Kissing, tangling fingers, laughing softly as they drop shirts and hop out of shoes. Bob pauses briefly to turn off his cell phone, before abandoning it on top of his jeans at the door of his bedroom. When he looks up, Brendon is gazing at him with eyes that look about two shades darker than they did a minute ago.

Brendon is already standing in only his boxers. The pale expanses of his skin are marked by several tattoos, and Bob knows his eyes are obvious as they travel down the lean lines of Brendon's body. They linger on the evidence that Brendon is really, really into this.

"Jesus, Bob, get over here."

He goes with out thinking twice, and then they're skin on skin, kissing again.  Brendon's hands are everywhere. Beneath his own hands is the hot skin of Brendon's back, the swell of his ass still covered by thin cotton.

Then Brendon's backing away a little, and his fingers hook into Bob's boxers, pushing them down. Bob is happy to copy this idea, and then he starts to back Brendon up towards to bed, because he's really like to get there sometime before he comes all over himself. He's been hard since they kissed in the hall, and keyed up since the fucking phone call; add to that it's been months since anybody touched him at all.

And there's Brendon, falling onto Bob's white sheets, naked and hard. It's like some sort of dream reality- one where Bob is quite happy with the lights on and he doesn't feel self conscious at all.  Brendon reaches up and pulls him in to kiss again, rocking his hips up. His dick drags along Bob's thigh, and Bob groans at the feel of it. It's electrifying, scary, and fantastic. He grins down at Brendon and aligns their bodies, so that when Brendon rocks his hips up again they both get the same slippery, fantastic friction.

"Bob you're a genius. Do that some more. And kiss me while you're at it."  Brendon's mock demanding, with a pout and breathy tone. He snaps his hips on the last word and groans. His legs fall open wider and Bob settles there, moving slowly as Brendon pushes up kissing him sloppily, teeth scraping slightly along Bob's neck. His hands, his beautiful fucking hands, are holding Bob's face, like he can't stop looking there for even a minute.

 It blurs then, and he's looking down at Brendon as he throws his head back and groans, twisting his hips up sharply and coming all over them both.

"God, Brendon, that's so hot, you're so..."

He grinds down himself, into the sticky mess of come and sweat and heat, and he knows that he's groaning and Brendon's hand is right there now, stroking firmly. He's whispering dirty, dirty things in Bob's ear, come for me now and I want you to fuck me soon, god, how are you so fucking gorgeous right now?

Then he's coming, all over Brendon's hand and the sheets and Brendon's chest. Brendon, Brendon Brendon.


"I think you broke me." Brendon's lying on Bob's bed, mostly clean and no longer sticky. One arm is thrown across his face dramatically, while Bob leans his head across Brendon's chest, idly counting the beats of his heart.

"I think you'll find it's the other way around. I'm a delicate flower, you know."

Brendon laughs, and Bob can feel the vibrations under his cheek.  One hand is in his hair, and he wishes he'd left it a little longer just so for that.

"Maybe you are a delicate flower, Bob Bryar, but don't worry. I'm careful."

Bob turns his face up to kiss Brendon lightly.

"I believe you."


In the past, Bob always expected mornings after to be bone-crushingly awkward. But it isn't- just the same way that nothing else Brendon does makes him feel awkward.

He lies there, warm and happy, content to watch Brendon sleep for at least a little while. He has to work tonight, unfortunately not with Pencey. He considers asking Brendon, but Mikey went to see the 'pile of shit' band a couple weeks ago, and their fans are not gay-friendly types. 

Here are the things he notices about Brendon asleep:

Brendon snuffles. Little wuffs of breath and a slight wrinkling of his nose make for maximum cuteness.

He also mumbles. Complete nonsense syllables mostly.

He doesn't cling. Bob likes that- the fact that their limbs and fingers touch but that he has enough space that he doesn't feel like he's too hot or trapped or anything like that.

He becomes momentarily distracted by the sight of a reddened place on Brendon's neck and feels himself blush. Beard burn.

"Bob Bryar, are you staring at me?"

Sleepy, cute boyfriend. Smiling at me.

"I was just thinking maybe I should shave. I gave you a bit of beard burn."

"Nooo. No shaving. It's mostly banned."

Bob raises an eyebrow.

Brendon stretches a little and grabs his glasses from where they were abandoned on the floor.

He positions them just so on his nose before making a show of considering Bob's face.

"I like your beard. It's a sexy beard. Some beards are unsexy, and therefore beard burn is unsexy. Your beard is sexy. A little bit of beard burn? In this case, quite sexy."

"You're a bit of a freak, aren't you?"

"Oh, completely. What time do you have to get up?"

"I don't, really. Not till tonight anyway."

"Awesome."

Bob reaches up to pull Brendon's glasses off of his nose. It's possibly the sexiest thing he's ever done in his whole life.



Bob spends the next fifteen minutes fulfilling the first jerk off fantasy he ever had about Brendon, way back on the night of the party.  Brendon naked on his bed, legs spread as Bob lies between them, mouth on Brendon's dick, moving slowly up and down. He can feel the tremble in Brendon's thighs on one side of his face; Brendon gave up talking for moaning and grunting three minutes or so in. The only thing he says now is Bob's name. Bob has one hand on his own dick, jerking because seriously. So fucking hot.

Brendon pulls at his hair a little, and says god, Bob, now, and he pulls off enough so that he can watch Brendon come all over himself.

He comes himself right then and there, Brendon's eyes following the movements of his hand.

They finally get out of bed around noon and consume a desultory breakfast of oatmeal and orange juice.  Their bare feet brush under the table, and Bob knows they're both grinning like idiots.

Much Later… (a montage of us)

They go on more dates. They see the concert at the park and they hang out with their friends and have mind bogglingly filthy, excellent sex.

One night they sit and play scrabble, passing a bottle of wine between them and  Brendon opens up about his family, about his sisters and his nephews and nieces that he never sees. It's the only time Bob ever sees him angry or approaching bitter. It's also the night that Bob looks at him and realises that he never, ever wants to make Brendon feel that way. He wants to be the one who stays.

He looks at Brendon and starts thinking about family.

He goes to see his Mom.

"I was wondering when you were going to get around to introducing me to your boyfriend." She's smiling as she says it, but Bob winces.

"So what's his name?" She's making tea as she asks, bustling around.

"Brendon. His name is Brendon, he's twenty one, he's from Nevada and he's at College."

"Are his family in Nevada?"

"He doesn't really talk to them, Mom. They're very religious."

She turns to put the tea on the table and her eyes are soft. She puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Is he a good boy?"

"He is, Mom."

"Then you had better bring him around here so that I can meet him. I'll make dinner on Sunday and if you want you boys can come over."

"I'll ask him." 

"Is he good looking?"

"Mom!"



"Is my hair okay? Do I have anything in my teeth?"

"No. You do not have anything in your teeth. And your hair is fine."

"You say that now, but it could all go wrong at any time."

Brendon talks a lot with his hands, and Bob allows himself a moment of distraction watching Brendon's fingers before reaching out and straightening Brendon's glasses on his nose.

"You look good. My Mom will love you. You're awesome."

He kisses Brendon lightly and squeezes his hand. Brendon is flushed and smiling.

They drive to his Mom's in the Beatle, which has started to protest even louder than usual. He's not nervous about introducing the two of them at all, and he just smiles the way, humming along to whatever's on the radio. His Mom is going to love Brendon.

After Much Dinner is had and Moms are appeased

When asked (and he is asked) if he is afraid of Spencer Smith, Bob says no. But it's a filthy lie, because he's sure that Spencer is secretly a ninja, or possibly a spy. When asked about his thoughts on Ryan Ross, he will probably at this moment just frown and scratch his beard a little.

Something's been going on in the Brendon/Ryan/Spencer apartment that neither he nor Jon can really get a grip on at all. Whatever it is, it's making even Brendon snappy, and it's making Spencer scowl in a way that makes Bob want to frisk him for knives. He can't actually tell what Ryan thinks, because he never actually sees Ryan.

It's the one problem in the otherwise blissful land of BobandBrendon, happy gay boyfriends.  Ryan Ross is seemingly the only person in the whole of Jersey who does not want them to 'just, oh my god, get gay married already'.

So he isn't surprised when he arrives at Brendon's and hears raised voices from inside. Brendon might be a small guy, but he's tenacious, Bob will give him that. There's a fierceness to Brendon that Bob doesn't think other people see very often. Mostly Brendon just bounces back without actually pushing back. But not right now. Bob can see half of Ryan's face and all of Brendon's through the tiny window beside the door. Brendon looks angry, upset. Ryan is not meeting his eyes at all, just looking at a spot in the distance. Brendon's frustrated hands must be fluttering in the corners of his eyes.

He could leave, he could call Brendon and cancel, leave him to deal with this. It would be fine, Brendon would forgive him. But he doesn't. He knocks and waits for a minute until he hears the shuffling of someone grabbing a coat. It's Brendon, smiling only in the smallest way. A smile that means I'm not okay, but its not you. Bob can't help it- he pulls Brendon close and hugs him tightly, just for a moment, until Brendon squeezes.  Brendon pulls back but keeps holding Bob's hand all the way to the park. He's quiet, thinking. Bob's fine with that- he's been known to be a bit non-verbal himself.

They meet up with Spencer and Jon by the ice-cream truck, Brendon pulling out one of his blindingly pretty smiles at the sight of his friends. They smile back, but Spencer's eyebrows betray the fact that he's not convinced by it at all. So Bob nods to Jon and they walk off a bit to buy the ice cream. When Bob looks back, Spencer has his arm around Brendon's shoulders as they sit on a bench, faces close.

"Ryan?" Jon has his hands full of ice-cream cones. If he's not careful he's going to get it all over his shirt.

"Who else?" Bob sighs. It sounds grouchy even to his own ears.

"Do you know what it was about?"

"Nah. Brendon didn't say."

"Probably the same thing it’s always about."  Jon sounds disappointed. 

"And that would be?"

"Ryan always finds something to disapprove of in Brendon's boyfriends."

"Why?"

"Because he does. He used to do the same to Spence all the time. When I came along I guess Spence told him where to get off."

"I think that might be what Brendon was doing before we left."

Jon's looking back at Spencer and Brendon while he talks. Brendon doesn't look upset anymore, just annoyed.

They take their boyfriends ice-cream and lounge in the sun. Brendon sprawls over Bob's chest, lazy-content. Spencer tells a story about the first year he knew Brendon. About the tiny student apartment, the first and only time they smoked weed. Bob thinks that Spencer may have the second prettiest smile in the world after Brendon's. It ties with Gerard's on his scale.

"And Brendon just would not stop giggling. He giggled for half an hour straight, easy. Ryan got so paranoid he locked himself in his room and I fell asleep." He laughs softly. “We were so cool."

"We were cool, Spencer Smith. I have the tattoos to prove it."

Spencer and Jon leave eventually, promising to text Brendon later.  Brendon goes quiet again for a few minutes after they leave, just happy to be there.

"It was about you." He says eventually, his fingers splayed over Bob's heart. "He always finds something he doesn't like about guys I date. When I was seeing Bill he complained Bill drank too much, when I was seeing Gabe, Gabe was too crazy. It wasn't like I was crazy in love with either of them but it was...irritating I guess."

Bob just tightens his arms around Brendon, sort of afraid that if he interrupts Brendon will stop talking.

"Then he started in on you, and I just, well, I just told him to shove it. I like you. More than I've liked anyone in a really long time. I mean...I think I might love you a little bit already."

He looks up into Bob's face, serious, nervous. He's looking for something in Bob's expression. He must find it- or maybe he just didn't find what he was afraid of. He smiles, big and real. Bob can't do anything in that moment but answer.

"That's good, Urie. Because I might be...kind of right there with you." He feels his own smile, the warmth of Brendon against him, and the lightness in his chest. He hadn't realised that he'd been afraid. 

"Good." Brendon huffs, looking like Bob feels. Happy, loved. "Ryan will get over the whole thing. He did with Spencer and Jon. He just needs a lady friend to make him less cranky."

His voice drops on the last two words, and the hand on Bob's chest moves with a bit more intent than is perhaps appropriate in a public park. He catches it in his own.

"What do you say we go back to my place?"

Brendon grins.

"What do you have in mind, Bryar? Would it involve sexytimes?"

"I can't believe I'm dating a guy who uses that word."

"Ah, see! You don't deny it though." He rubs his leg against Bob. "Let us go back to your love-nest and have sexytimes, Bob Bryar." Bob can't help but laugh as Brendon bounds up out of his grip and motions impatiently for Bob to stand.

The Happy Ending (or, the start of something Big)

Bob likes to kiss Brendon. It's the sweetest thing when Brendon tips his head up to be kissed, smiling. Before Brendon, kissing was nice, yeah, but Bob was usually keen to get on to the actual sex part as soon as he could. Sex with nakedness, even. Kissing Brendon, though, is something else. It's maybe the way that his lips feel or the noises he makes in the back of his throat when they've been kissing for half an hour fully clothed on the couch. Kissing Brendon makes him remember when he was sixteen and just kissing another guy was enough. When everything was so new that every brush of skin on skin was enough to make him gasp. Brendon makes him feel like that, makes him feel young and horny and just so stupid with want. He thinks about it on the way home as Brendon swings their hands back and forth. It's the first time he's ever said anything remotely like 'I love you' to anyone other than his mom, but he isn't scared at all. His belly is all in knots, but its excitement, not fear. Just before they turn the corner onto Bob's street he hears a crack, and it starts to rain. Brendon laughs and tugs on his hand, and they run laughing all the way back to Bob's apartment.

When the door shuts behind them, they're still laughing and Brendon's face is so open, so sweet that Bob can't really do anything but take his face in two careful hands and kiss his smile. Brendon's hand comes up to cover Bob's, and they stand there dripping on Bob's floor. Bob pulls away, still holding on to Brendon's face.

"I love you." He hadn't really planned on going any further than they had in the park, but now is the right time. It's maybe the only time that will ever be this perfect. He has no doubts that Brendon won't say it back at all.

"That's good because I really, really love you too."

"I thought only a little bit?"

"I was fronting." He leans his forehead against Bob's. "It was all a front. I'm completely nutty about you. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all."

"I was promised sexytimes, Bob Bryar. I hope you have something in mind."

"I think I might be able to come up with something."

He kisses Brendon again, takes his hand, and leads him towards the bedroom. Brendon begins shedding his clothes, leaving his shirt in the hallway, his shoes in the door. Bob's torn between watching and taking off his own clothes until Brendon makes impatient motions. The universal sign for get your fucking clothes off is soon to follow. Bob, who knows what’s good for him, complies.

They put Bob's bed to good use, Brendon straddling Bob's hips, grinding down lazy, brushing kisses on Bob's chest. Bob's hands are just trying to touch everything all at once. From the small of Brendon's back to the sharp curves of his pelvis and the expanse of his ribcage. Grinning at each other like crazy fools in love. Then Brendon leans down close to Bob's ear.

"I don't want to sound un-romantic, because, as you know, I am all about romance." The words are punctuated with little gasps and grinds. Bob starts nodding before Brendon even gets the rest of his sentence out- "I'd really like it if you fucked me now. Please." His hair is hanging over his face, his lips are bitten red.

Bob will never, can never understand how anyone could ever say no to Brendon. So he tips Brendon onto his back and kisses him hard.

They fuck like that, molded close, kissing endlessly until Brendon arches underneath him and comes, whispering Bob, Bob, and where Brendon goes, he follows.



In the morning, Bob wakes up before Brendon. It's unusual- Brendon is a crazy-light sleeper and he never usually sleeps more than five hours at a time. He allows himself a smug little grin and a mental pat on the back for being the guy who actually fucked Brendon Urie until he slept for eight hours straight. The guy whom Brendon Urie is in love with. He gets up, still grinning, and pulls on some pyjama pants he'd discarded on the floor a couple days ago. Decides, after yawning, that it would be totally cool if he cooked breakfast and decides that pancakes are definitely the way to go. He deliberates about using the heart-shaped pancake moulds Frankie gave him as a joke and decides that yeah, because Brendon loves that shit. Which is so cool, because secretly, so does he. Brendon, unlike him, has never been told by his ex that that shit is girly and dumb. Brendon just likes what he likes and fuck anyone who messes with that.
Brendon, as per usual, wakes up just as there's food on the go. He's wearing some of Bob's pants which are just disturbingly huge on him. He looks young, hair sticking up, pushing his glasses up his nose and smiling. Bob's heart hurts in the best way when Brendon pulls himself onto the kitchen counter and makes grabby hands. He walks over and stands between Brendon's legs, tilting his head up, and kisses his boyfriend good morning.

The heart-shaped pancakes are a definite hit. They sit at Bob's tiny kitchen table, wriggling their toes at each other, grinning like crazy idiots. Their sidekicks buzz on the sideboard, Bob's filling up with messages from Gerard, Brendon's with Spencer, Ryan and Jon. They answer one of each before going back to bed and getting naked again. Brendon lazily goes down on Bob, taking his time like there's just nowhere else he'd rather be.

He wakes up in the middle of the afternoon, the warm light spilling through the blinds. Brendon is awake already, head resting on his chest, cool fingers making circles on one arm. Bob looks down at him and knows that this is the right time. He takes a deep breath and asks.

"If you want- when you're ready, um, whenever, you could move in with me."

Brendon props himself up on an elbow and looks down at Bob seriously. Bob's heart is going what feels like about fifty million miles an hour and he's looking up at Brendon's face and wanting, more than anything for Brendon to say yes.

Brendon’s mouth curls into the most amazing smile Bob has seen on anyone, ever.

 

“Can we get a kitten?”

 

The End (with kittens and legal Jersey gay marriage!)

.

Comments

[nimmy.livejournal.com]

this is really sweet, like too much candy sweet, but I had fun reading it

[astoryandasong.livejournal.com]

I couldn't help myself- I tried to be less diabetic coma inducing but oh well...thanks!

[nimmy.livejournal.com]

sometimes you need it, I'll be keeping a link for those times *g*

[starflowers.livejournal.com]

Awww, this is fantastic, I've never read Brendon/Bob before, I definitely love it. Have you posted a link to it in the new rare pairings community? You definitely should, if you haven't.

I love how adorable Brendon was in this. And I feel kind of bad for Ryan, but only because he's usually my favourite, I suspect. Otherwise I'd think he was a jerk.

[astoryandasong.livejournal.com]

The pairing was a random thing in my head brought on by extreme love for both of them :-)

I haven't posted it there- what's it called?

re: the jerky Ryan thing, I kind of see him as maybe being a but insecure about his place in his friend's lives, his grouchiness is care-induced.

[petite-reina.livejournal.com]

AWW! So freaking cute.

[astoryandasong.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

[geoffaree.livejournal.com]

aww, this was just so sweet it makes my insides all gooey and warm

Bob/Brendon is so one of my OTPs, and this fic was pure magic

♥

[astoryandasong.livejournal.com]

Thank you:-)

[reni-days.livejournal.com]

Waaaaaaaay late to the party, but I just found this and it is adorable. ♥___♥

[astoryandasong.livejournal.com]

Late but welcome:-)

:D

[discorpion.livejournal.com]

I totally squealed like a two year old when I got done reading this!

but anyway. I really love your characterization of Bob. He always seems like the kind of guy that is only happy in the right instances, and you set it up perfectly to be that Brendon is the one that makes him happy! I love how we don't see much of Ryan in either the first or second chapter, but we do get to see how his protectiveness over Brendon starts effecting BobandBrendon.

The whole story was filled with adorable little lines, and I found myself laughing out loud at the mini-golf, and when they were trying out mattresses. And then when Bob asked Brendon to try out his bed with him? Yeah, I was pretty much gone.

"Can we get a kitten?" <3!
I'm rambling, but I love this :D

Re: :D

[astoryandasong.livejournal.com]

Aww, thank you!
I originally started out trying to write this from Brendon's POV but Bob was just a better fit for me:-)
I also wanted a story that was more everyday, because i wanted it to be normal, in a way. Brendon Urie. and kittens are <3