Lights

Ryan trudged clumsily into the living room the next morning with his stomach rumbling hungrily. He was clad in just boxers and a light grey t-shirt, and as he felt the chills run up his arms and legs, he cursed himself for not putting on something warmer before climbing out of bed.

He glanced at the couch, where Brendon was sprawled with the fingers of his left hand touching the ground. His mouth was ajar and he was only a step away from making an unholy snoring noise. The blanket was tied around Brendon's legs in what looked like an uncomfortable fashion.

Ryan skittered into the kitchen, shoved some bread into the toaster with unnecessary force, and slammed down the lever. He bopped around on his toes for a few moments, trying to warm himself up, before putting the pot on the stove and waiting for it to boil.

A few minutes later, after preparing some banana on toast and a coffee (because he reasoned that he deserved one after what he lived through the night prior), he approached the couch nervously, wondering if there was any room to sit down.

He put his food down on the coffee table and pushed down on one side of the couch, happy to notice that Brendon's feet weren't occupying the spot. He sat down happily, pulling his legs under him and the blanket over him, then started eating contentedly.

Brendon didn't wake up until Ryan was just downing the last of his coffee. He groaned lightly before opening his eyes and squinting at Ryan in confusion.

“Ow,” Brendon mumbled, pulling the blanket up over his head. “Hell in a confined space!”

“Hey, sleepy head,” Ryan greeted in a pleasant tone.

“Don't you dare,” Brendon snapped, his voice muffled.

“Don't worry, angel, I'll make you some coffee. And I think I have some aspirin somewhere if you think you'll need it?”

“I'll need it,” Brendon replied, instantly.

Ryan was back with an aspirin and a half-full glass of water quickly enough. Brendon downed the glass and pill and groaned again.

“Coffee, coming right up.”

“You are an absolute saint, Ryan,” Brendon sighed, his voice sounding almost sickly. “I could not have ran into a greater guy.”

“Such is your luck,” Ryan said. “And such is your luck to go out and get a headache, practically on purpose.”

“Not now!” Brendon grabbed his head with his hands. “Please, no telling me I brought this on myself now! At least wait until the aspirin has kicked in.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and quickly made a cup of coffee. “Now, I'm warning you, this won't be quite as great as the hot chocolate. Firstly, coffee's pretty bitter anyway, and secondly, this wasn't made with as much care.”

“I'll settle for anything right now,” Brendon said. “Can't be that bad.”

Brendon took the warm mug gratefully in his cold fingers and started sipping at the contents, his gulps growing a little larger over time. “Thank Christ,” he sighed.

“Now do I get to guilt you?” Ryan asked, hopefully.

“I'd really prefer you didn't.”

Ryan sighed and leaned back against the couch. “Do you remember much?”

Brendon squinted out into space as if he were trying to remember, then nodded. “I think I remember enough.”

“Enough?” Ryan repeated.

“Yeah. It wasn't a bad night.”

“But the morning?”

“Yeah... the morning isn't so great,” Brendon agreed, trying to hide his scowl. “But sometimes you need to make sacrifices for good nights.”

“And sometimes you don't,” Ryan countered.

“You drank coke all night, you don't even know what you're missing, so you can't comment,” Brendon stated, pushing his chin up with an air of authority. “So there.”

“Do you do this kind of thing a lot?”

Brendon shrugged. “Sort of, sort of not. I dunno.”

“Do you get drunk a lot?”

“Not a lot a lot. But, you know. Sometimes. Definitely don't get to go to nightclubs all that often, that was fun.”

Ryan bit his lip, then took a deep breath in. He wasn't quite sure how to approach the subject, or even if he wanted to at all. He couldn't quite pinpoint why he needed to. The fact of the matter was that it didn't bother him necessarily – just surprised him. Startled him.

“Brendon,” Ryan said, cautiously.

“Yeah?” Brendon looked over the top of his coffee.

“Do you happen to remember kissing Spencer last night?”

“Oh, shit. Well, yeah, kind of vaguely,” Brendon mumbled, rubbing at the back of his head. “Jeez, sorry Ryan, I didn't think I'd be quite like that. Fuck, that must have been really awkward.”

“Oh no,” Ryan responded, quickly. “It's fine, I was just wondering. You know, whether that was a regular occurrence. I just... I dunno really.”

Brendon sighed, seeming to become have slightly more ashamed of the matter within the last ten seconds. “Shit, I'm sorry, Ry. You probably think you've let some creeper into your house now.”

“I don't,” Ryan reassured. “It was just surprising. I just didn't expect it. At all, really.”

“It happens sometimes,” Brendon said. “Alcohol gets rid of your inhibitions. I do stupid things sometimes.” Brendon smiled sheepishly, his eyebrow rising. “Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to awkward you out at all, and I promise it won't happen again. I didn't mean to go attack your friend like that or anything --”

“Don't worry.”

“Sure it doesn't bother you? Shit, I hope I didn't scare Spencer. I didn't mean to do that, seriously.” Brendon looked at him with his head tilted to the side, curiously. “So, you're fine with that? You aren't even annoyed at the fact that it was Spencer?”

Ryan blinked. “Why would that annoy me?”

“Oh, well, no reason. Just making sure, some people can be weird about that kind of stuff.”

Ryan shrugged.

“So, we're good?” Brendon asked.

“Yeah, we're fine. I made you coffee, didn't I?”

Brendon sat up with a grin on his face. “That's true. So, did you have much fun last night?”

Ryan took in a deep breath at the thought of it, and avoided eye contact.

“That bad, huh?” Brendon looked apologetic.

“It just wasn't my thing,” Ryan said quietly. After a pause, he added, “Girls are kind of scary in that place.”

“Why do you think I chose Spencer?” Brendon asked with a laugh. “... Hope that's not too soon.”

Ryan just grinned and shook his head.

“But you're right,” Brendon said. “Some of them can be kinda scary. Especially to an inexperienced newbie like you. What'd she do?”

“Just started dancing with me. It was kind of weird. I didn't know you could dance with someone like that without permission.”

Brendon choked on his coffee with laughter and threw himself back against his pillow with a giant smile on his face. “Fuck, you are funny!” he cried.

Ryan looked at him blankly, not quite realising the joke he was making. “But, I'm serious --”

“And that's exactly why. I like you, Ryan, you're pretty cool. Even if you do have no life.”

“Well... thank you, I suppose,” Ryan responded, unsurely, his brow creased in confusion. Brendon made little sense to him, but he couldn't help but like the boy regardless.

*

“So,” Brendon said, stretching his legs out over Ryan's lap. “What are we doing today?”

“Well, today's my day off,” Ryan replied, sounding quite happy with this. “So... anything, really. But you know what we might wanna do at some point?”

“What's that?”

“Find you a nice ol' job.” Ryan smirked and pointed at a newspaper that had been discarded on a corner of the coffee table. Despite the fact that Ryan had removed all the stuff from it a few days ago, there was a pile of things already collecting around the edges. He leaned over, grabbed the paper and passed it to Brendon.

Brendon unfolded it in an official manner, even clearing his throat authoritatively. “Now, let's see here... I see stocks are on the rise again...”

Brendon peeked over the top of the newspaper with a grin, only to see Ryan looking at him, not too impressed.

“All right, I may or may not be on the comics,” Brendon sighed. “Calvin and Hobbes, anyone?”

Ryan rolled his eyes and snatched the paper from Brendon's hands. He started leafing through the pages until he came across one covered in listings, and passed the section back to Brendon.

“This is what we're looking for,” Ryan said. “We can read Calvin and Hobbes afterwards.”

“It wasn't even Calvin and Hobbes,” Brendon said. “But I think it should have been.”

“I agree. Now, eyes on the paper.”

Brendon obediently trained his eyes down to the black ink in front of him. “Shit, they all want, like... trained professionals or something.”

“Are you sure you're not a trained professional? Something you just forgot about up until now?”

“Nope, still a high school drop out,” Brendon said, nonchalantly. “Ooh, these people are looking for a baby sitter! Do you think they'd hire me? I can do that.”

“They're looking for a fifteen year old girl,” Ryan stated. “Not a twenty one year old guy. They'd probably think you were some pedo.”

“What?” Brendon gasped, offended. “I'm not a pedo! You're the pedo. Pedo.”

Ryan elbowed one of Brendon's knees, making him yelp and withdraw his legs quickly, accompanied by a glare.

“That was low,” Brendon said, quietly, before returning to reading the listings. He ran his finger down the page, hoping that perhaps this would help him in finding something. As he got closer and closer to the bottom of the page, he started groaning progressively louder in annoyance.

“No fair, why isn't finding a job easier?” he whined. “How'd you get yours?”

Ryan shrugged. “I don't even know. I don't have to know. Point is that I have one.”

“There's nothing here!” Brendon shouted in frustration. “Would I be allowed to rip this up?”

“Go ahead, vent away,” Ryan invited with a wave of his hand.

Brendon suddenly started tearing the thin pieces of paper in his hand. They tore with a sharp ripping noise, and soon he had a collection of strips in his hands. He started tearing them into squares, and once he was done he threw them up into the air like bitter confetti and crossed his arms moodily.

“Something tells me we may get desperate in times to come,” Ryan pointed out.

“Something tells me you're right,” Brendon agreed.

“You know... there is one thing that you could consider,” Ryan said slowly, adding a hopeful smile.

Brendon narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Am I going to like this?”

“I kind of doubt it, but, uh... Who knows?”

Brendon let out a sigh then nodded. “Fine, what is it?”

“Well, you know the one places that always seems to be wanting workers?”

Blinking, Brendon slowly shook his head.

“It starts with 'M'.”

“... Mark's?” Brendon responded.

“Close.”

“... Mike's?”

“It's not a four letter word, Brendon. And it's an actual corporation.”

Brendon rolled his eyes. “I'm sure Mike's and Mark's are actual corporations too!”

“Well I have no idea where they are, so there!” Ryan snapped. “Are you going to keep guessing, or should I tell you?”

“Just tell me.”

“How about you work at McDonald's?”

Brendon's mouth fell open, then closed as he started to consider it. “It's probably not a good thing that high school told me that McDonald's was like, the joke of the employment world.”

Ryan shook his head. “It's probably not, but don't worry, it's done it to all of us. But, hey... someone has to work there right? And if not the previously homeless guy, then who?”

“Why can't it be the dorky teenager who needs money to fund his Star Trek obsession?”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Because you need money to fund your life, and I didn't take in a dork who needs to fund some obsession.”

Brendon scratched at his chin thoughtfully, pondering all the pros and cons behind his decision. “I really need a job.”

“You really do.”

“And we really need food and shit.”

“We really, really do.”

“And there's nothing in the newspaper, is there?”

Ryan smirked. “Even if there was, you tore it up.”

Brendon glanced down at the squares of newspaper all around him and grinned. He plucked one from his chest and flicked it into the ground. “It felt good, it was totally worth it.”

“I'm proud of you. So, what are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking I'm gonna have to suck it up and work at McDonald's.” Brendon bit his lip as he thought. “It can't be that bad, right? It's not like I actually know anyone around here to judge me or anything. Except for you, of course.”

“Except for me. And you've been wearing my clothes, so...”

“So, working at McDonald's is better, not worse?” Brendon said, slowly.

“You learn quickly, kid.”

“Do not,” Brendon said, pointing an accusing index finger. “Or I will continue to be unemployed and eat all your food.”

“God, fine, you don't have to threaten my life.”

“Right, so now that's sorted! I'll be working at McDonald's.”

“Correction,” Ryan interrupted. “You will be filling in an application for McDonald's. Don't get too ahead of yourself.”

“Please tell me you aren't questioning my ability to work in a fast food joint.”

“It's a popular business these days.”

Brendon rolled his eyes and climbed off the couch. “Quit mocking me. I'm going to go have a shower.” He stamped his foot decisively. “Now, good day, sir!”

“Good day!” Ryan replied with a salute.