The Rules of Sexual Etiquette

Brendon is pushy. He knows just how to get what he wants, and he’s good at it.

Perhaps too good, Ryan thinks.

And it’s not always a bad thing. The fact that Brendon is so extroverted is a great part of his natural appeal. He doesn’t back down from a challenge under any circumstance, and you won’t see him walk away. He was born a fighter, and he’ll die the same. The phrase “beat around the bush” isn’t really in his vocabulary. He goes after what he desires and will not stop until it’s in his grasp.

But, really, sometimes he’s just ridiculous.

“So, Ryan,” Brendon begins nonchalantly. “When are we having sex?”

Ryan chokes on the Coke he was drinking, the carbonated fluid burning his nose and eyes watering from the sudden lack of air. That was definitely not what he was expecting.

Looking concerned, Brendon’s eyebrows furrow slightly. “You okay?” he asks.

Ignoring the question, Ryan replies with his own. “What did you just say?”

“Oh yeah,” Brendon chirps. “I asked you when we were going having sex. I mean, hand jobs and all that are great, but, you know, it’s just not the same thing as doing it.”

Ryan stares at him incredulously. He can’t believe that Brendon picked this exact moment to tell him this. They’re eating lunch in the cafeteria, for fuck’s sake. So what if basically the whole school knows if they’re two flaming homos? It’s not like he wants the details of his sex life being talked about as well. He wonders if Brendon is really that dense.

“Dude, you pick the worst times,” Ryan states.

“So is that a yes?” Brendon presses.

Tapping his fingers on the tabletop, Ryan just says, “You’re lucky Spencer isn’t here or he’d start lecturing you about talking about our alone time. You know how he gets.” Spencer likes to cover his ears and say “no homo” whenever they talk about something of the sort, even though Jon is usually with them. He just places a wet kiss on Spencer’s cheek, and when he does, Spencer simply glows, even though he’ll never admit it.

“Ry-an,” Brendon whines, “You’re avoiding the question.”

Ryan scoffs, because no, he most certainly is not avoiding anything.

“You are!” Brendon argues. “Come on, let’s do it.”

“Not now,” Ryan hisses, and that closes the conversation for now.

- - - -

Until they get out of school. As soon as they’re in Ryan’s car, Brendon asks, “Why not? We’ve been going out for like six months. If we continue this way I’m going to die a virgin!”

“God, Brendon, it’s not like you’re some old decrepit man who can’t even get it up anymore. We have plenty of time,” Ryan replies

Spencer groans. “Fuck, man, what did I say about this? I mean, it’s bad enough that you let him ride shotgun every time, but-”

“Spencer, shut up!” Ryan snaps. “Listen, Bren, can we do this later?”

Pouting his lips like a slightly wounded puppy, Brendon says nothing and peers out the passenger window. Spencer mumbles something about stupid Jon and stupid fucking goddamn yearbook.

Ryan inwardly sighs. Why couldn’t they just let it happen like everyone else? When he first met Brendon, he had thought that he was just a Mormon band geek who wouldn’t know what to know what to do with a girl even if he was given a manual (turned out he didn’t, but give him a dick and he knows just what to do). Ryan soon discovered that he was more sexually aggressive than anyone really gave him credit for.

It’s routine that Ryan drops off Spencer at home first (even though Brendon’s house is closest to the school) and swing back around to Brendon’s place and possibly pull over to have some much needed make out time. So, that’s what he does; he drops Spencer off in his driveway, ignoring his apparent bitchface, and starts driving towards Brendon’s house.

He steals a look at Brendon, then, who still hasn’t looked at him since Ryan blew the issue off. His lip is torn between his teeth, and he sits unmoving, which is something he never does. Ryan feels a sudden aching in his chest. “Listen, B-”

“Forget it, Ryan,” Brendon replies tightly, still not shifting his eyes from the window.

Snapping his mouth closed, Ryan decides it’s best to follow his advice.

- - - -

The next day continues like normal, and Ryan’s thankful for that. During world history, Brendon and Ryan pair up for an assignment and spend almost the entire time playing footsie under the desks. Brendon usually bounces back pretty quickly after an argument, which is good for Ryan. He thinks the whole sex thing has passed, and he’s so thankful for that. It’s something that he’s been putting off, obviously.

It’s not that he’s not ready. He is. Sort of. A little. So maybe he’s not, but it isn’t just that. He doesn’t just want to have sex and have it not mean anything. He wants his first time with Brendon to be special. Really special. That’s why they haven’t done it yet. Because the moment just is never right, and they’re in the backseat of Ryan’s car or in Brendon’s room after school when his parents are still at work. He wants it to just be the two of them; no stress, no anything. Just Brendon and Ryan and a soft bed and candles. Lots of candles. Yeah, Ryan is a closet romantic, but whatever. That’s just what he wants. What he’s always wanted. It just didn’t end up like that with the girls he was with. With Brendon, he’s just determined to make it different.

Brendon wraps an hand lightly around Ryan’s wrist. “Wanna come to my house after school?” he asks, an implicating smile tugging at his lips, “My mom is doing a church group thing today, so she shouldn’t get home until later, and Kara is going home with a friend.”

Swallowing, Ryan knows what this means. Really, fuck, he knows. Brendon wants them to have sex. In his tiny twin bed. With the Batman sheets. Yeah, not quite the route Ryan was going for.

“Um, not today,” Ryan lies, “I have a paper to write. For my scholarship applications. My dad wants me to start early.” So, not a total lie. He really does have to write the paper. It’s just not due for another week. But why put off to tomorrow what you can do today? Ben Franklin was a smart man, that one. Ryan will have to remember to thank him in the great beyond.

Brendon’s face falls a bit, and Ryan immediately wants to take it back. He really does. He just can’t allow himself to be lured into Brendon’s figurative love nest (or “Batcave”, as Brendon continually likes to refer to it. Ryan’s always been more of a Superman guy). Brendon smiles then, trying not to let his disappointment show. “No big deal,” he shrugs. “S’always next time.”

Shifting uneasily, Ryan reluctantly agrees, “Yeah. Next time.”

- - - -

“So, you deflower Brendon yet?”

“Jesus fuck, Gabe! Warn a guy next time you decide to scare the shit out of him in the lunch line, will you?!” Ryan replies bitchily. He cranes head up to look at the front of the line. It’s long. Damn his luck. Now Gabe will never go away.

“Avoiding the question,” Gabe sings, grinning his Cheshire smile.

“Don’t you have Bill to blow under the table or something?” Ryan mumbles, grabbing a carton of regular and chocolate milk.

Smirking, Gabe replies, “Sorry, already done. Anyway, don’t you have a Brendon you should be fucking in a bathroom?”

“I am not fucking Brendon in a bathroom,” Ryan hisses. He won’t. Couldn’t. He’d never treat Brendon so lowly.

“Sheesh, touchy,” Gabe tisks, setting an apple on Ryan’s tray. “Anyway, Brendon is getting antsy. He’s like two seconds from jumping you while you’re not looking.”

Ryan grits his teeth. “I don’t really think that’s any of your business,” he replies tightly. “Are you even going to buy anything?” And Jesus fuck, how does Gabe even know these things?

“Actually, Ryan Ross, this is all my business, because if it weren’t for me and my darling sweetheart, you wouldn’t even be together,” Gabe states proudly. He never quite let them forget that yes, he was solely responsible for their relationship because of the mere fact that he told Brendon to make Ryan jealous, and Ryan had basically came crawling to him.

“We would have gotten together anyway,” Ryan mumbles, “Only a matter of time. You know how persistent he was.” Ryan remembers Brendon’s sideways glances, his wide smiles, his pouting rejected lips. It had taken months, but Brendon had gradually lured Ryan under his spell. Sometimes, he didn’t know how he was so lucky to have someone who adored him, even though he was clearly a socially retarded mess.

“Exactly. So he will get to have sex sooner or later. You should make it sooner, because if it’s later, it’s not going to be with you,” Gabe tells him pointedly.

Mouth dropping open, Ryan questions in horror, “Do think that he would really…?” He scans the tables and sees Brendon sitting across from William, nodding and smiling occasionally. Brendon wouldn’t actually break up with him because he didn’t get what he wanted, would he?

Gabe raises an eyebrow. “With how sexual Brendon is? A hand can really only satisfy for so long, Ryan.”

“I-”

“And really, what’s your problem anyway? I mean, come on, have you seen his ass? Who wouldn’t mind tapping that? I’m starting to question if you’re really gay at all, Ross.”

The tips of Ryan’s ears turn violent red. “Don’t talk about hi-”

“$4.35,” the cashier states boredly.

Ryan finally reaches the front of the line and pays, Gabe snatching the apple off the tray and skipping around him to the table. “Bilvy, my lover!” he exclaims, kissing his boyfriend dramatically on the lips and settling comfortably into the seat beside him. “I present you with the most noble of treats!” He holds out the apple for Bill, who grins like the lovestruck idiot he is.

Biting his lip, Ryan really wishes that he had the confidence to kiss Brendon in front of everyone like Gabe does to Bill. He’s just too afraid of what people will say about them, how they’ll look at Brendon. Gabe doesn’t really have a problem with it because anyone who as much looks in William’s direction the wrong way will be fucked up by him or Pete (never underestimate Pete’s size, ever), nevermind outright insult him or their relationship. Not even teachers could get away from his wrath. Once, Will and Gabe had gotten a detention for hugging when there was a guy and a girl making out maybe two tables away. Gabe had called her a racist and a homophobe and proceeded to curse her out in heated Spanish, all while Bill was trying to stroke his arm and soothe him. He had immediately whipped out his phone-- all this in the middle of lunch with one of the assistant principals not twenty yards away-- and called his mother, who rushed down to the school and demanded to see the principal. And, although Mrs. Saporta is a pretty small woman, get her mad and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. A Spanish woman can hold a grudge forever. Needless to say, the higher authorities didn’t hassle them anymore.

Ryan just highly doubts that he is intimidating enough to tell someone to back the fuck off if they insulted Brendon. He’s just a skinny guy with a weird haircut.

“Hey,” Brendon greets, looking up at him and smiling widely, probably wishing that Ryan would kiss him like that.

Feeling an ache, Ryan sits down next to Brendon. “Hey,” he replies, “I got you chocolate milk.” He sets the carton in front of Brendon.

Brendon fucking beams. “Thanks! You know how much I like chocolate,” he replies, opening the carton and taking a small sip.

Ryan is just left with guilt. Guilt guilt guilt. It kills him to not give Brendon what he wants; it really does. He just can’t right now. “You’re welcome,” he responds somewhat quietly, poking at whatever’s on his tray. He really just needs to learn to pack from home instead of getting this shit.

“So, hey, Ryan,” Bill says casually, “Me and Brendon were just discussing how painful your first time taking can be.”

He chokes on air. He just fucking chokes. Seriously, what the fuck? Does Bill really not understand how to just shut the fuck up?

“Yeah, and how at first you don’t want to keep going, but in the end it’s totally worth it,” Bill continues, “Right, Gabe?”

Gabe nods solemnly, and agrees, “Yeah, I always though of myself being a top, being the manly man that I am-” Bill smacks his arm, “but I realized I really like bottoming sometimes. It’s like, that whole thing of just relinquishing all of your control of one person… it’s great.” He looks at Bill fondly, who smiles.

“Yep,” Bill nods, turning his attention back to Ryan, “You have to trust someone, to have that connection to make it special.”

Brendon grins at Ryan. “Bill says I would make a great bottom.”

“Agreed,” Gabe chimes.

Ryan’s mouth hangs open, in complete disbelief of what he just heard. Seriously, was he just hearing the details of his friends’ sex lives? “Where’s Spencer?” he asks suddenly. Spencer would never put up with this fuckery.

“With Jon,” Brendon replies, “Trying to get as much time with him as he can, since Jon’s been pretty busy after school with yearbook.”

God damn them both.

“So, Ryan, what do you think?” Will questions.

“Huh?” Ryan blinks.

“Do you think Brendon would make a good bottom?”

Brendon looks at him expectantly, eyes wide and imploring, begging him to tell him what he wants to hear.

“Um, yeah,” Ryan coughs, “Sure.”

“You alright there, Ross?” Gabe smirks, “You look sick.”

Clearing his throat, Ryan assures, “Fine, fine,” and sends a surreptitious glare his way. Really, stupid fucking Gabe and Bill and their fucking stupidity could just not but the fuck out.

Brendon simply grins at him and obliviously laces their hands together under the table, squeezing tightly.

- - - -

When Ryan goes into his glove box the next time to get a napkin, there’s a box of condoms sitting right there with a little bottle of lube right next to it. He immediately slams it shut and groans. Fucking Brendon.

- - - -

They’re relaxing on Ryan’s bed a couple of days later after school and doing some homework, mostly math. Ryan can tell that Brendon’s restless by the way he keeps changing his sitting position and tapping his pencil on the edge of his book.

Ryan rolls his eyes. “Break time,” he announces.

Smiling happily, Brendon leans over and catches Ryan’s lower lip between his teeth. Well. He certainly isn’t wasting any time.

Somehow, Brendon ends up on top of Ryan, grinding down into him and sucking his tongue into his mouth. Ryan pants, pulling Brendon’s hips down harder onto his crotch. Brendon gets the hint and moves his hips forward at a hilt. God, the things he does to Ryan sometimes.

Ryan swallows down the breathy noises that Brendon makes and moves one of his hands to Brendon’s neck to angle his mouth down better. He barely notices when Brendon takes Ryan’s hand and puts it down his incredibly tight pants. Not really that unusual. Except what Ryan felt under his fingers wasn’t cotton like it normally is.

Lace. It was fucking lace. God damn fucking Brendon.

Ryan immediately pulls his hand from Brendon’s pants, pushes Brendon off of him lightly, and shakes his head, eyes wide. “No, no, no, we can’t-- I’m not-- this isn’t-- just--”

Brendon sits up straight and replies, “I’m sorry; I thought if I maybe--” he bites his lip and looks down from behind his red-framed glasses.

His mind is racing with a million different thoughts: Oh my fucking God my boyfriend is in panties. Girl panties. Oh fuck. That’s hot. I wonder how he- Putting a hand lightly on Brendon’s forearm, Ryan soothes, “It’s ok, it’s ok, just. I’m not, like. I mean I am, but, uh. Yeah, I don’t really know what I’m trying to say. I’m sorry too; I didn’t mean to--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Brendon shrugs. “I shouldn’t have expected you to, uh, like it, I guess. I thought that because you’ve been with girls before, that maybe you wanted something more like that.”

“Bren, it’s ok, I was just… not expecting that, that’s all. It’s fine,” Ryan whispers, smoothing down a bit of his hair.

Brendon nods sadly, leaning into Ryan’s touch.

Ryan feels awful. He should have just had sex with Brendon. He obviously wants it so badly, to the point that he’s willing to humiliate himself to get it.

Plus, he can’t stop thinking about those fucking panties. And how he’s still hard but how he refuses to do anything about it. Really, just fuck his life right now.

He kisses Brendon softly and hopes that that can be enough.

- - - -

The next time he sees Gabe, his eyes are disappointed and his lips are turned down as he shakes his head. Like he’s saying, You could have done better.

Ryan wishes he didn’t know.

- - - -

“But why?” Brendon whines, pouting his lip desperately.

Ryan pinches the bridge of his nose from where he’s propping himself up over Brendon with his opposite arm. “Not the right time,” is all he says.

“Please, Ry, it’ll be great, I promise,” Brendon pleads. He’s a millimeter away from begging; Ryan can see it in his eyes.

“Brendon, we’re not having sex in the back of my dad’s old car. I could have been conceived in this car, for all I know,” Ryan replies, sitting up.

“Then we’ll go to my house,” Brendon suggests, sitting up as well and tugging on the hem of Ryan’s t-shirt.

Sighing, Ryan states, “S’not the point, Bren.”

Brendon shakes his head, looking down. “I just don’t get you. Like, at all. If you didn’t want to get involved with me-- you could have just-- you should have known this was eventually where it would lead, Ryan.”

Swallowing, Ryan replies, “I knew; I just-” Sighing lightly, he tries again. “I didn’t mean to make you upset,” he mumbles.

Brendon’s face hardens, eyes slits. “Then what were you trying to do? Basically just tell me that we’re not going to have sex ever? That you don’t even want me like that? That I just don’t-”

“Stop, you’re just being fucking ridiculous now,” Ryan interjects. He doesn’t like Brendon thinking that way, because of course they’re going to have sex, just not right now.

“Oh really? I’m being ridiculous?! Is that right?! At least I fucking give you head whenever you want it! When was the last time you went down on me, Ryan, hmm? Oh yeah, that time you choked because you’d never-”

Ryan feels his palms itch. “It’s not my fault that I didn’t fucking practice on popsicles my entire life! Not everyone has been drooling over cocks since they practically started walking!” he shouts. As soon as he sees the look on Brendon’s face, though, he wishes he had never said it.

Brendon opens his mouth to say something, then immediately closes it, looking incredibly hurt. Tears pool in his eyes as he says evenly, “Fuck you, Ryan. All I ever did was love you. I just wanted to take the next step in our relationship, but obviously you’re too much of a fucking child to ever be ready for that.” He flings open the door, grabs his backpack, and slams said door in two seconds flat, taking Ryan’s heart with him as he stomps down the street in the direction of his house.

It’s not until Ryan climbs back up into the drivers seat and steps on the gas that he realizes that that was the first time Brendon had ever told him he loved him. He probably would have a lot sooner if Ryan wasn’t such a flaming asshole.

He hits his head on the steering wheel. He is so fucked. He goes and drives next to Brendon’s slinking figure and rolls the passenger window down, leaning over toward it. “Come on, get in the car,” he says.

Brendon shakes his head, lower lip trembling.

“B, come on, just-”

“No!” Brendon yells, walking swiftly down the sidewalk away from Ryan.

Ryan puts the car in park and watches as Brendon walks down the street to where his house is, just a few more away. He doesn’t know what to do other than that. He fucked up, and he knows it. He’d never seen Brendon looking more angry in his entire life. He wonders if he’ll ever make it up to him.

- - - -

So, maybe Ryan isn’t suave. He most certainly isn’t sexy. Brendon… he can be sometimes, now that he got his braces off and doesn’t do that weird spiking thing with his hair anymore. In fact, Ryan thinks Brendon is incredibly ravishing, with the way he smirks his lips and-

“I told Jon, I fucking told him that this yearbook thing was going to totally ruin our relationship, but no, he had to go off and do his photography thing with no consideration for our future,” Spencer rants, crossing his arms. “It’s like he doesn’t care about me at all.”

“Fuck, Spence, listen to yourself. You’re being so selfish. Why do you have to rag on Jon so much? He likes photography. You should be happy for him,” Ryan replies, throwing his books in his locker.

“You know I am,” Spencer murmurs. “I just miss him.”

“You sure don’t seem like it,” Ryan retorts, even though he knows Spencer is. He loves Jon with all his heart, but he just gets upset when he doesn’t get to see him as often as he likes. Plus, Spencer’s also starting to realize that Jon is going off to college in a matter of months.

“Whatever. At least I have sex with my boyfriend. You won’t have sex with Brendon just because you’re waiting for the ‘perfect moment’. Come on, you know that shit only happens in movies. I mean, sure, it’s always special, but nothing is ever perfect,” Spencer informs him.

Ryan shakes his head, because Spencer should get it. After knowing him for over ten years, he should understand. “That’s not true,” he retorts childishly, “I can make it perfect.”

Spencer cocks an eyebrow. “No matter how much you plan, no matter what idea you have in your head about how it should be, it’s never the same. Things get awkward. I mean, fuck, I could barely figure out how to get the condom on Jon our first time.”

“Hey! TMI! You’re the one who’s always telling us all not to discuss our sex lives!” Ryan says, walking out toward the parking lot with Spencer in tow. Brendon had eloquently come up to him early that day and informed him that he was “taking the bus, asshole.”

Pursing his lips, Spencer replies, “Yeah, but this is an emergency. I don’t think you understand how much this is hurting Brendon, how badly he wants this. Wants you. I don’t know why… but he’s got it bad for you, dude. He’s probably wanted this ever since his freshman year and saw your sulking figure camping out in the library.”

“Sophomore year was a tough one,” Ryan defends half-heartedly. He sighs. “I love him, Spencer, I really do. I just want it to be, like, different than the times I did it with girls. They left me feeling so…”

“Empty?” Spencer tries.

Ryan’s shoulders slump. “Exactly.”

Spencer puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder as they arrive at Ryan’s dad’s old car. “You know Brendon isn’t going to be like that. He’s going to love you and be everything you dreamed of and afterwards you’ll spoon and talk about all the kids you’re going to adopt.”

Punching Spencer in the arm, Ryan mumbles, “Asshole,” but still can’t keep the smile from his face. Spencer’s right, as he usually is. No matter how it happens, it’ll be great.

They get into the car, and Spencer is blinking furiously and scratching at his eye. It takes a second look before Ryan realizes that he’s actually crying.

“Spence, the fuck?” Ryan questions.

“Sorry, sorry, just. I’m so happy for you, Ry. That you finally found someone who loves you as much as Jon loves me. Like, I was worried all this time that you’d never let that happen to you, but it did, and… Brendon’s really great for you. Perfect. Don’t fuck this up, please,” Spencer pleads, sniffling slightly.

Ryan surges over the center console and hugs Spencer tightly. “I’m gonna get him back,” Ryan promises. “I’m gonna make this real.”

- - - -

Only problem is that Brendon won’t talk to him. Or answer his calls. Or open the door when Ryan comes to his house. Brendon is making this considerably harder than Ryan would like.

He spends a lot of time staring at his glove box, glaring at it because he knows what’s inside. He stares at it, contemplating and planning. Fuck, if only this wasn’t so hard.

He eventually takes out the box and bottle and shoves them both into his backpack before he can change his mind.

- - - -

The next step is one of the most crucial ones. He goes to the mall and stares into the store window for about ten minutes, trying to plan out what he should do. He looks at the colorful display, considering his plan carefully. Maybe he could just go in really quickly if he figured out what he wanted from here, and-

“Can I help you?”

Ryan’s head snaps up to see a blonde woman with a confused look on her face. Like a “what-the-fuck-is-some-weird-teenaged-boy-doing-lurking-out-here?” look.

“Uh, yeah, actually. I, uh. I need… candles,” he admits, not meeting her eyes.

“Really,” she deadpans, and Ryan looks up at her face. She looks amused now. Her nametag says ‘Crystal’. “I think I might be able to help with that, considering I do work at Yankee Candle.”

Flushing red, Ryan stammers, “Uh, y-yeah. That sounds good, thanks.”

Crystal gives him a warm smile. “Follow me,” she instructs, and he does. He’s immediately overwhelmed by a million scents at once, wrapping around him and sticking to him like a bottle of Elmer’s. “So, do you have anything specific in mind?”

“Uh, no,” Ryan mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

She chuckles slightly. “Okay, can you at least tell me what you need candles for?” she asks.

“Well, I’m trying to do something romantic for my, uh, girlfriend. And she’s really mad at me right now. So I was wondering if there was something in particular that you could recommend…” Ryan trails off, scuffling his feet a bit and hoping she won’t see through his lie.

Giving him a wide smile, Crystal states simply, “Vanilla,” and reaches on a table and hands him a large glass jar with a candle infused inside.

“Vanilla?” he questions incredulously, “Bre- um, my girlfriend, she’s kind of… flamboyant, I guess? Not plain, you know.”

She chuckles like there’s something he’s missing. “Yes, it is sort of plain. Simple, if you will. But girls, and sometimes boys-” Ryan blushes three different shades of red, “-like that when they’re upset. It’s soothing, yet beautiful. Go on, take a whiff.”

Ryan pops the glass lid off and sticks his nose inside. The scent is warm, sweet, and inviting all in one. It’s nice. “Yeah, you’re right,” he agrees. “Can I get, like, twenty small ones of this?”

- - - -

The rest came pretty easily after that. Ryan put what felt like a million blankets over his window so no sunlight seeped in, and he cleaned his room so much that he’d never seen it so clean in his life. The candles had been positioned everywhere, just begging to be lit. Two bouquets of roses had been dismembered so Ryan could sprinkle the petals on the floor and bed. He’d even put some crisp white sheets that he had found in the closet onto his mattress. In place of his band posters was nothing but clean, white wall.

It was perfect. All that was missing was Brendon.

Ryan spent three hours getting ready, scrubbing his body clean, making sure his hair looked perfect, and picking out the perfect outfit (even though he hopefully wouldn’t be in it for long). He brushed his teeth five times. He was ready for this. He really was. Now, came the hard part.

Ryan swallows as he listened to the phone ring. Once, twice, three times, then a fourth. On the fifth, an annoyed voice demanded, “Really, are you stupid or something?”

Well, that wasn’t Brendon.

“Uh, hey, Kara,” Ryan mumbles, “Is Brendon home?”

“Yeah, but I doubt he wants to talk to you. It’s been almost a week. He obviously doesn’t want to hang out with you anymore, or whatever else you guys do when you’re together,” Kara states.

Sighing, Ryan replies, “Just tell him it’s super important. Please.”

Kara huffs, then yells, “Brendon! Get down here, the dumbass is on the phone!”

Ryan vaguely hears the command of “Language!” before Brendon’s voice is saying, “Seriously, what do you want?”

“Can you come over for a few hours?” Ryan questions, fiddling with a lock of his hair.

“Why?” Brendon retorts.

“Uh, I just need to, um. Talk to you,” Ryan lies.

Brendon snorts. “You’re talking to me right now.”

“Don’t make this difficult,” Ryan hisses, “Just get your ass over here and stop asking questions. You know you’re intrigued.”

Huffing, Brendon answers, “Fine, gimme a half an hour”, then hangs up.

- - - -

As it turns out, that half an hour becomes the longest of his life. He lights all of the candles, which takes all of five minutes. He doesn’t dare lie on the bed, because he’ll rumple the sheets or fuck up the rose petals, so he settles for the floor instead. His ass starts to hurt after ten minutes, so he decides to stand. Two more minutes and his feet hurt, so he’s down on the floor again. He taps his fingers on his knee, wishing for Brendon to just fucking get there already.

Finally, the doorbell rings and he rushes down the stairs, nearly falling and impaling himself several times, and flings the door open with a huge smile on his face. They’re finally going to do this, and it’s going to be perfect.

Brendon gives him a weary look. “So what’s this about?” he questions.

Ryan gives him a once over. He looks good, in a regular black t-shirt and jeans. His face is also void of any glasses, letting his warm brown eyes look sharper than ever. “This is about you, me, and some other stuff. Follow me,” he instructs, not waiting for Brendon to react and simply pulling him into the house and locking the door behind him. He drags Brendon up the stairs and to his room and all but kicks the door open and says nothing.

The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of the candle light. It looks pretty damn romantic, if you ask him. It makes him want to strip his clothes off and pull Brendon down and-- yeah.

“What is this?” Brendon asks, looking around the room with curious disbelief.

“This is, uh…” Ryan trails off. “Brendon.” He gently puts his hand to cradle Brendon’s cheek, and leans in to kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and his mouth briefly. He kisses a line down Brendon’s neck, then whispers into his collarbone, “I want to make love to you.”

Ryan has already mentally prepared himself for Brendon to burst out laughing and just walk away from him, because, hello, could he have said anything more stupid? He thinks Brendon has, actually, until he realizes that was a sob he heard.

Pulling away from Brendon’s neck, Ryan stammers, “I-I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to upset you, I was trying to--”

He’s cut off by Brendon shaking his head. “No, it’s not--” Brendon manages to say as he covers his face with his hands. “Fuck, this is so embarrassing,” he hisses, probably mostly to himself. “It’s just… This is the way I always dreamed it would be all my life.”

“I-- What?! I thought you just wanted to get it done,” Ryan replies, frowning.

“No, no, I always wanted the candles and the rose petals and, just--” Brendon takes a shaky breath. “I never thought you would want this. You’re always so straightforward.” He wipes his face with the back of his hand.

Ryan’s heart swells. “This is what I wanted to do the whole time. I wanted to make it really special. For the both of us. I love you, you know.”

Flinging his arms around Ryan’s neck, Brendon just hugs him tightly. “I’m dreaming, right?” he asks. “God, you’re perfect. So perfect. Fuck, I think I was supposed to be mad at you for some reason.”

“Uh, for denying you access to my pants?”

Brendon lets go of Ryan and smacks him on the arm. “That’s right. You could have just told me, asshole.”

Ryan laughs warmly at Brendon and orders, “Just get over here and get me naked already.”

Brendon’s eyes light up. “Yeah, I can do that,” he states, pulling Ryan to him by his hips and running his fingers under his shirt and over his skin. He connects their lips fiercely, and Ryan responds immediately, twisting his fingers in Brendon‘s onyx locks. He allows Brendon to unbutton his white shirt-- “You should wear this more often,” Brendon whispers, “You look hot as fuck,” --and lets the fabric slide to the floor.

Seizing the opportunity, Ryan pulls Brendon’s t-shirt over his head, revealing the smooth white skin beneath. Ryan runs his fingers over Brendon’s stomach lightly, enjoying the sound of his boyfriend’s gasp. He doesn’t get to enjoy it for long, however, because then Brendon’s tackling him onto the bed.

Closing his eyes, Ryan lets Brendon take the lead for now. Brendon grinds his crotch down into Ryan’s, whispering, “Swear to God if you back out now I’ll hate you forever.”

Studying how the candlelight dances off of Brendon’s bare collarbone, Ryan answers, “I won’t,” and connects their lips once more.

- - - -

“Hey babe,” Bill greets as he sits down next to Gabe in the cafeteria.

Gabe smiles. “Hey,” he replies, leaning in and kissing him chastely. “Where’s Brendon?”

Shrugging, Bill answers, “No clue. He should-- oh, there he is.” He points to where Brendon is currently with Ryan through the double doors. Well, maybe walking isn’t really the word. Hobbling is more like it. They look like they’ve been--

“Oh my god, finally,” Gabe groans.

William grins. “Our little boys have finally grown up,” he agrees fondly, resting his cheek in his hand. He’s still smiling when Ryan and Brendon sit (with some difficulty) across from them.

“Uh, hi guys,” Ryan says as innocently as possible. Brendon’s beaming beside him.

“Hey, you two,” Gabe leers knowingly, “Looks like you made up.”

“Yep!” Brendon chirps, bouncing in his seat slightly.

Blushing, Ryan nods.

“Really now?” Bill questions. “Brendon, how ever did Ryan make it up to you?”

“Oh, you know,” Brendon shrugs nonchalantly, “A little of this, a little of that.” It’s obvious that he’s holding back from smiling even harder.

“Ah, I see. You know what I do when I piss off Bilvy?” Gabe asks.

Brendon shakes his head.

Smirking and leaning forward, Gabe informs him, “I fuck him so hard that he can barely walk.”

Ryan starts choking. Brendon just flushes bright red.

“Oh, come on; You can’t fool us. How was it?” Bill presses.

Neither of the boys speak for a few moments, until finally Brendon says dreamily, “The most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life.”

Gabe raises an eyebrow. “Ryan?”

“Um,” he lets out awkwardly, “It’s was good. Really good.”

“Told you you’d love it,” Bill smirks. “So, Brendon, how was he? Did he do it right? Because the first time--”

“We agreed that we’d never speak of this again,” Gabe cuts him off.

Giving Gabe a look, Bill continues, “It was awkward.”

Brendon laughs. “Well, at first, he didn’t really--”

Ryan elbows him.

“He got it eventually,” Brendon smiles.

“And Ryan, how was bottoming?” Bill prods.

Ryan puts his forehead down on the table with a smack. “I don’t deserve to be interrogated in this manner,” his muffled voice groans.

“How many times did you guys fuck?” Gabe asks Brendon.

Thinking, Brendon counts off on his fingers. “Five, I think?”

“Six,” Ryan corrects, his face still on the table.

“Yeah, six,” Brendon agrees.

“Damn!” Gabe exclaims, “You guys are like rabbits! What time were you guys up until?”

“Like three,” Brendon answers excitedly, “And I’m not tired at all. My parents are totally going to kill me, though.”

“You’re never tired,” Ryan mutters.

“Brendon’s not our little virgin anymore,” Bill says. “It’s kind of sad.”

“Nope. I am now deflowered. And so is Ryan, kind of,” Brendon muses.

Ryan visibly winces.

“Quit being so embarrassed,” Brendon orders, looking down at him, “I love you, and that is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I think I’m gonna cry,” Bill whispers.

“Shh,” Gabe whispers.

“I’m not embarrassed,” Ryan replies, finally picking his head up, “I’m just, you know.”

Kissing him quickly, Brendon states, “Okay, let’s not make Ryan uncomfortable. I’ll tell you guys in drama.”

Ryan decides there’s nothing he can do to argue. “I love you,” he informs Brendon, despite himself.

“I know,” Brendon grins, squeezing Ryan’s hand under the table.

Gabe and William smile at each other. Another job well done.