Strictly Under the Influence

The restaurant was small and had an intimate feeling to it. The waiter gave the pair a weird look when Brendon asked for a booth. Then he'd smiled when Brendon told him they were expecting a lady and showed them a booth. “I'll be back in a moment to get your orders,” he tells them, scurrying off in another direction. Ryan sighs and sits on the side facing the door, so he can see Jac's reaction when she sees him first instead of Brendon.

And Brendon slips into the opposite side. Watching the door like a hawk, Ryan fidgets with his drink. Vodka and Coke on the rocks. He messes with the salt and pepper shakers and messes with the napkin the waiter gave him to use as a coaster. “Ryan,” Brendon finally snaps at him, “settle. Down.”

And Ryan pulls his hand away, feeling and looking like a kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar after they were told to wait until after dinner. A fringe of light brown hair fell and obscured the view of one of his golden eyes.

Ryan sighs and when he's about to give up and tell Brendon that he wants to go home, Jac walks in the door and starts talking to the waiter. He says something; she smiles and laughs, placing her hand on his forearm. The waiter escorts her to the table and she locks eyes with Ryan. Her gaze turns frantic as she searches for Brendon, and then horrified when she sees that he's here, too.

“Ryan? Brendon?” She asks.

Ryan thinks she's trying too hard to sound innocent and it just comes out sounding rehearsed. “I'm gay,” Brendon chirps happily.

Ryan looks down, taking a sudden interest in his drink and says, “You're cheating, Jac.”

She stutters around her excuse before finally saying, “Yeah, and?”

“And?” Ryan looks up at her, an unexpected fire coursing through him. He says, “And, we're over. Done. I'm cutting my loose ends and you're one of them.”

_

Ryan looks pitiful. Or, at least Brendon thinks so. He reminds Brendon of a girl. Sitting on the couch all day, eating ice cream, and watching reruns of George Lopez. Brendon just wants to hold him and tell him everything's going to be fine. But, as much as Brendon wants to, he doubts Ryan would let him.

“Ryan,” Brendon says a day or two into Ryan's all ice cream diet, “we need to go out, get you a better girlfriend.” Brendon hates the word on his tongue, but he says it for Ryan, so he doesn't hate it so much. Picking his head up, Brendon sits down and places Ryan's head in his lap.

The older boy shrugs and shoves another spoonful of vanilla ice cream into his mouth. And Brendon almost melts at the way he brings the spoon out of his mouth, scanning for any missed parts, and if finding any, licks it until their gone. “I don't know, Brendon,” he says quietly.

Twirling a piece of Ryan's hair on his finger, Brendon pleads, “Come on, Ryan, we can go to a gay bar if you want-forget all about cheating Jac.” Ryan's lower lip juts out at the mention of her name and Brendon sighs, frustrated. “Get up,” he demands.

“What?”

Brendon gets up, grabs Ryan's hand and all but drags him to his room. “Okay,” Brendon says, turning to his closet. He rummages through his clothes, looking for a shirt that he'd only seen Ryan wear once. Coming across the black and white striped V-neck, he tosses on his bed and turns around.

Ryan looks down at his ice cream then back up at Brendon, his eyes asking what is going on? Snatching Ryan's ice cream from his hands, Brendon goes into the kitchen and, after dumping the ice cream in the sink, threw the container in the trash. Ryan protests, “What was that for?”

“You need to expand your horizons,” Brendon says, going back into Ryan's room to pick out the most flattering pair of jeans he can find.

_

Ryan is starting to feel like Brendon's setting him up for something he doesn't (or possibly [secretly]) want(s). But his still isn't sure about it. Turning around and looking at himself trying to find any faults at all, Ryan fails.

He thinks he looks really hot, and he thinks he might be ready for what Brendon has in store. Or, at least, what he thinks Brendon has in store.

Ryan shakes those thoughts from his head and peers down at his shirt. It's a simple, dark, navy v-neck shirt.

Brendon opens his mouth to say something, then snaps it shut so fast, Ryan thinks he might have imagined it. But then a light flush creeps upon his normally pale cheeks, and then Ryan has a notion of what might have run through the younger boys thoughts.

He smirks and turns to find Spencer, mumbling something about how Brendon wants him.

Spencer's in his room, flipping through a SPIN magazine. “Spencer,” Ryan says as he walks in, “what do you think?”

Spencer's eyes flicker up for half a second before he asks, “Why don't you ask Brendon?”

“Brendon's gay. He's biased,” Ryan retorts, sitting on the edge of the younger blonde's bed.

“True.” He flips a page then sets it facedown beside him. “It's fine,” he assures Ryan, “Don't worry.”

_

There's a small club-type thing called Scorpio's that Brendon takes Ryan to. “Brendon,” he whispers as they park, “this is a gay bar!”

He could see the younger boy's smile in the dimly lit truck. “Well, yeah, what am I? Straight?”

They get out and Brendon locks the door behind them. Going up to the front, there's a velvet rope with a bunch of very feminine guys waiting. There's a few girls, but Ryan doubts they would be into them, or the other way around. The bouncer glances at Brendon, looks back to the line, and then snaps his gaze back to Brendon. “Go on in, Mr. Urie,” he says, “it's been a while since we've seen you.” He's a big, black guy. His head is shaved and he looks like he could snap Ryan in half with his pinkies.

Ryan's more than a little intimidated. But Brendon smiles, obviously at ease and strolls past a purple velvet rope the bouncer holds up for the two of them. And when Ryan looks back outside for a second, he swears he saw all the guys' eyes on his ass.

There's people everywhere and the room is stuffier and the smell of whiskey isn't as strong as it is in Brendon's bar. A tall, lanky guy came waltzing up to Brendon, a smile plastered on his face. “Brendon!” He says over the music. Ryan watches as the other guy leans down to give Brendon a kiss-kiss, European-style on each cheek. “Long time, no see. Where have you been?” His light brown eyes turn to him and Ryan feels a light flush creep to the surface of his cheeks. “And, who is your friend?”

Smiling, Brendon looks at Ryan and he thinks this was a really bad idea. A gay bar? Ryan's not even gay. “William, this is my, uh, friend, Ryan. Ryan, this is William-he owns this Scorpio's.” Brendon waves his hands back and forth as he introduces the two of them and Ryan tries not to focus on the occasional hand that grabs his butt.

Ryan sticks out his hand to shake William's, but the taller boy grabs his hand and pulls him into a hug, giving him the same European kiss-kiss he gave Brendon. “Nice to meet you, Ryan, hope you'll be here more often than not,” he says, giving Ryan a small wink before not quite disappearing into the crowd.

Ryan starts to look around the best he can, considering the dim and flashing lights that obscure his vision to a certain extent. Some one walks behind him and when he turns to catch them going the other way he says, “Jon?”

Jon whips his head around to his name and his gaze lands on Ryan. “I-I… Uh, I can explain,” he says, walking up to Ryan.

Ryan's topaz-colored eyes search for Brendon, before he finds the dark haired boy chatting up a short, darker-haired guy. Then he turns back to Jon, saying, “What are you doing at Scorpio's?”

Looking around, Jon says, “Shhh! Okay, Ryan, you caught me; I'm not as straight as I let on. But don't say a word to anyone you know.” Profusely nodding, Ryan takes his right hand and puts it over his heart. Then, with a smirk, Jon asks, “Why are you here?”

The corners of Ryan's mouth turn down in a frown and he says, “Brendon gagged and bound me.” His old landlord raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “No, I'm kidding,” Ryan corrects, “he told me to get dressed and then we left. I didn't know where we were going.”

Laughing, Jon pulls Ryan into an awkward half-hug and says, “Stay in touch,” before successfully disappearing in the sea of meshing bodies. Ryan slowly makes his way back to Brendon who smiles when he gets over there and says, “Ryan, this is Pete-my friend that I own the bar with.”

Trying his best to be heard over the music, Ryan says, “Nice to meet you, Pete.”

“You, too, Ryan,” Pete tells him.

_

Ryan and Brendon stumble out of the club/bar around closing time, Ryan, as drunk as it gets. He finally let loose around midnight and started letting people buy him drinks. And by three a.m. he was flirting with anything that moved.

Brendon just sat back and watched the whole thing go down. Once or twice Ryan would glance over at him and motion for Brendon to join him and whomever he was with at the moment.

But on the way home, Ryan was spitting out weird things that Brendon couldn't make sense of. “Thatmutherfucker,” he slurs, “kickedme. Out.”

Brendon smiles and just keeps driving.