Take My ***ing Hand

Sitting on the couch, I flipped aimlessly through the channels. I never understood how there could be nothing to watch with so many fucking channels.

I had my feet propped up on the coffee table, and thought about maybe texting Spencer or Brendon when my dad stumbled in. He was holding a bottle in his hand, and as I looked closer, I noticed his eyes were glossed over.

"Hey dad are you-"

"Get your feet off the god damn coffee table." He demanded. His voice was rough with a hint of a slur, and that's when I began to worry. My father was never really one to care about petty things like feet on furniture, and I had definitely never heard that tone of voice from him. Especially since my mom passed, he had become more easy going and passive, especially with me.

I took my feet off the table and sat up straight. "Are you alright?" I asked cautiously.

"The fuck does it matter to you?" he asked harshly, the slur becoming a bit more prominent. "Why don't you go play with your little faggot boyfriend?"

I furrowed my brow at his choice of words. I wasn't upset, rather confused. He had never spoken like that to me before, and I knew I should have been offended or something, but I was more concerned, especially for him.

"Dad, what-"

"Shut the fuck up." he muttered, before trudging upstairs.

I just sat in shock for a moment before picking up my phone.

~*~

"He really said that?" Spencer asked, sitting across from me on his couch.

"Yeah, Spence I'm worried. He's been drinking more and more ever since I got back." I vented. The worry was apparent on my face I'm sure.

"Ry, I'm sorry. I wish I could give you some quality advice, but I honestly don't know what to say."

I sighed. "It's alright, I really just need someone to talk to about it more then anything." I said.

"You could always try talking to him, when he's you know, sober. Your dad always seemed like a reasonable understanding man. If you caught him at the right time I'm sure maybe you could talk him into quitting or getting some help." He offered.

I nodded. "Thanks, I might try that." I looked down at my watch and noted the time. "He's probably asleep by now, or not completely... sober. Maybe I'll do it in the morning."

"Okay. I'm sorry man. You wanna catch a movie or something? Maybe take your mind off things?" He tried.

"Nah, I have to meet Brendon soon, but thanks anyway."

Spencer playfully rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Okay. You going to tell him about what happened?"

"I..." I trailed off, thinking about it. "Not sure yet. I wouldn't want him to have to worry about me."

"He is your boyfriend. He should know these things." Spencer stated, and was probably right in his statement.

"Maybe. If it comes up I will." I said, not making any promises to myself. In all honesty I would rather not have to think about this when I'm with my boyfriend and we're supposed to be having fun. And even if I tell him just to get it off my chest, there's a chance he'll just be worried, and I'll never escape this.

~*~

I finally made my way to Brendon's house after taking a long rout with a chance to clear my head.

I was going to talk to my dad tomorrow.

I didn't have to think about it until then.

But in reality, these things are impossible to not think about. And driving there, the time by myself got me thinking about it all, just stressing me out, but at the same time making me a little angry. He has been drinking more and more every night. He's usually avoided me before when he was drunk but... this is getting bad. It's selfish in a way. How could he do this to me? I already lost my mother, I don't need to loose him too.

I finally arrived at Brendon's house and knocked on the door. He answered it, looking as gorgeous as usual, but it was hard for me to pay attention.

"Hey babe. You're in luck, the 'rents are out shopping and the siblings are out for the night." He said with a playfully seductive smirk.

I rolled my eyes at the pet name, and he stepped aside and motioned for me to enter.

I stepped inside and he closed the door, then proceeded to grab me and swing me around in his arms, before pecking me on the lips.

"How are you today my lovely?" he asked before letting me go.

"Good." I lied. "You seem to be in a good mood. What's the occasion?" I asked.

"We have the house to ourselves. And I just drank redbull." He nearly sang, skipping to my side.

"What dumbass gave you an energy drink?" I deadpanned.

He didn't seem to catch on to my sour mood. "Oh har har. It's not that bad. I'm just a little hyper. So, whatchya wanna do?"

~*~

We somehow ended up on the couch, me sitting on his lap. Since we'd been dating for a few weeks now, I decided it was time to be a bit more generous. (And maybe take my mind off things.)

I sat on his lap while his tongue explored the inside of my mouth. My hands rested on either side of his face, and he held onto my hips. soon enough, his hands began to find their way underneath my shirt. I didn't object because it seemed innocent enough, in fact, I had even let my own hand drift down to feel and caress the exposed bit of skin where his shirt had ridden up, exposing his mid drift.

I smiled into the kiss, his mid drift having reminded me of his stunning attire in the forest. The fact that with his exposed mid drift and too-tight-to-be-legal skinny jeans, he looked like he was headed for the nearest gay bar.

"What's so funny?" he asked, breaking the kiss.

I chuckled. "Nothing. I was just thinking of your old shirt. The one I had to use to fix your arm, and how ridiculous you looked in it." I said laughed again.

He laughed and shook his head. "I think I still have that around here somewhere. I was too lazy to toss it out. It's probably on the floor of my room."

"You'll have to wear it again for me sometime." I teased. "You did look pretty hot in it, I must admit. But you also looked incredibly, incredibly gay."

He snorted. "Yeah yeah. Whatever. Let's get back to what we were doing shall we?"

I smiled and leaned forward, reconnecting our lips. My hands continued to move up his shirt, and his continued to move further down towards the button on my pants. 

He gently pushed me on my back, as he crawled on top of me without breaking the kiss. 

There was a semi familiar tightness in my pants, and my heart rate sped up. I'm pretty sure it was nerves though, rather then anything else. 

His hands continued to move further down until he was gripping my hip with one hand and cupping me with the other outside my jeans. I felt him smirk into the kiss as he began rubbing. 

I gasped and broke the kiss. 

"Brendon, wait." I said, slightly breathless, but he continued. "Brendon, fucking stop!" I exclaimed. 

"What is it?" he asked with a furrowed brow, pulling back.  

"I... Above the waist." I said.

He sighed and climbed off of me. 

I exhaled and sat up too. 

"Brendon-"

"We've been dating for weeks now. Don't you trust me?" he interrupted in a harsh voice, crossing his arms. 

"Brendon I just... I told you. We're taking it slow, and I'm not ready to have sex with you-"

"I never said anything about sex." he cut me off again. "But it's great to know that you still think that's all I want from you. It's so great to know you trust me so much."

"Brendon it's not that... Wait." As I thought over the situation, I began to realize just how ridiculous he was being. Even if this was about the "You have to prove yourself to me thing" he should have known how this would be. I told him from the beginning.  But this isn't even about that anymore. It's about me not being ready. It's about me perhaps wanting my first  time to be more special or romantic or whatever, no matter how sappy or cliche that is. 

But it seems that he would never understand that. This is Brendon Urie after all; Infamous school man whore as he's always been known as. Just because he decided he wanted a steady boyfriend, and it just so happened that we ended up stuck in the forest together, doesn't mean he's changed. 

The fact that he's so pissed off about the fact that I wont let him move fast just proves to me that he hasn't changed. It's still all about sex with him. 

I don't want to deal with this. I don't want to deal with his shit. I've had enough to deal with today. I came here to escape drama, not to create more. 

The more I thought over this, the more my blood began to boil under my skin. Maybe it was all the feelings from this morning flowing through my body and out the first angry outlet it saw, but I was fucking pissed. In fact, I'm pretty sure that if I wasn't so stressed to begin with, I wouldn't even be pissed. But at this moment, I was too emotionally distressed to think clearly. 

"What?" He finally asked impatiently. 

"Brendon, first of all, this isn't about trust."I nearly growled. "There are other aspects that have to be taken into account. And you know what? Maybe I don't trust you yet! Maybe the fact that you got so pissed off about me not letting you in my pants only proves my point! Maybe you haven't changed, and maybe I should go. If you want to fuck so badly, go fuck someone else." I nearly growled, jumping up off of the couch and heading for the door. 

He looked almost shocked for a second, as if he was processing my words before he finally got up after me. 

"What the fuck are you even talking about? Ryan you're blowing this out of proportion! Why the fuck are you being such an asshole today?" 

I stopped and turned to face him. "Just... nothing. It's fucking nothing. It doesn't matter." I spat before reaching for the door. 

He grabbed my hand. "Ryan, what's wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?" He asked me. 

"I said it doesn't fucking matter! Drop it Brendon!" I exclaimed before storming out the door without him stopping me.