Take My ***ing Hand

Brendon's POV

He has such a gorgeous smile. Just look at him there, sitting with his friends, smiling and looking all cute and hot, and pretending he doesn't notice me staring at him. Come on Ross. Turn your head. Look at me. Let me see those stubborn honey colored eyes. 

"BRENDON FUCKING URIE." Suddenly there was a sharp pain in my left arm. 

"OW! What the fuck? Did you just stab me with a fork?" I said turning to Jon and rubbing my arm where there was not four sharp little dents. 

"I've been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes, but you've been stalkerishly staring at that Ross kid over there. Like you were raping him with your eyes or something." Jon said. "And it was a spork by the way."

I sighed. "I was trying to get him to look at me." I said. 

"Why don't you just fuck the kid already and move on?" he said taking a bite of his Mac and cheese. 

"Well for one he won't give me the time of day." I said. "And besides, I'm done with all that. I've decided I want to try and have a normal relationship." I said. 

His eyes widened and he dropped his spork. He then dramatically grabbed my face and studied it. 

"Well it looks like Brendon Urie." he said. He then sniffed my shirt. "It even smells like him." 

"Jon. Stop it." I said, pushing him off. 

"I swear, the lack of food and a proper environment must have gotten to your head. Maybe you caught a parasite or something. Because you're telling me that you actually want a relationship with Ryan Ross. The kid you've hated since freshman year." he said. 

"Well I changed a lot in the last week. And I mean, spending all that time with him alone made me realize stuff you know? I just, I wanna try it." I explained. 

"Crazy shit man." Jon said, taking another bite of his food. "So how do you plan to win him over? That kid hates you y'know."

No. He only thinks he does. 

"I know. But I have a plan." I said. 

He laughed. "Good luck."

~*~

Ryan's POV 

I sat in my room, like most nights, just writing in my journal and listening to music, when there was a knock on the door. 

"Ryan! Can you get that please?" my dad called from his office. 

I sighed, got up from my bed, and meandered downstairs. 

I opened the door and - Jesus fuck. 

"Brendon, what the hell are you doing here?" 

And there he stood. He was dressed in extremely tight black jeans and a white button up shirt. He was also holding a rose. 

A red fucking rose. 

"Hello to you too." he said. "Are you going to let me in?" 

Before I could respond I was interrupted by my dad. 

"Ryan, who is it?" he asked. He then appeared behind me. "Oh it's your friend from school. Hi Brendon. Come on in." he said. 

My eyes widened and I turned to my dad. "What? N-"

"Thanks Mr. Ross." he said before walking past me into my house. 

"I'll leave you boys to talk." my dad said before disappearing upstairs. 

I rolled my eyes and turned to Brendon. 

"What are you doing here?" I asked bitterly. 

He smirked. "I came here to ask you on a date." he said, handing me the rose. 

I grabbed it and set it on the table. 

"No. Now get out." I said. 

"That's no way to treat your houseguest." he said. 

"Brendon, get out of my house." I commanded, pointing towards the door. 

"I'm not leaving until you agree to go out with me." he said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Brendon. Leave." 

"Nice place you got here." he said, plopping down on the couch. 

"How did you even know where I live anyway?" I asked, coming to the realization. 

"I have my sources." he said. What a creeper. 

"Do you boys want something to drink?" my dad called from the kitchen. 

"No where fine!" I called. 

"Actually I would like some-" 

"Brendon shut up." I said, cutting him off. 

"Ryan, don't be rude. Especially to our house guest." my dad said setting down two sodas on the table. "I'll be in the other room if you need me." he said before going back upstairs. 

I could just slap that smirk right off that boys face. 

At this point I had my head in my hands and was probably red with frustration. 

"Brendon. Out." I grumbled. 

"Go on a date with me." he said nonchalantly, opening a soda and taking a drink. 

I bit down on my lip to avoid cussing him out, and said the words I never ever thought I would. 

"Fine." I nearly growled. "I'll go on one, I repeat, one fucking date with you. But after that, you have to leave me alone. Now get out of my fucking house." I said pointing at the door again. 

He smirked and stood up. 

"I knew you'd come around." he said. "I'll pick you up tomorrow night around seven." he then headed for the door. But before he opened it, he stopped, turned around, and kissed my cheek. 

"See you tomorrow." he said, before exiting through the door. 

I glared after him. 

It wasn't until after he left that I noticed I was completely red. 

Fucking asshole. 

What the fuck did I just do?