This Is Halloween

This is Halloween, everybody make a scene

Brendon walked onto that bus as if he owned it. Waving cheerfully and smiling widely, hugging everybody in sight, no questions asked. It was apart his nature and he couldn’t be faulted for being friendly could he? Nah, of course not.

But Ryan’s face was stoic and Spencer looked worried.

Jon, good-old Jon looked fucking amused to no end, talking animatedly with Gabe in the corner, both wearing equally wide grins plastered on their faces, wearing their matching Ghostbuster costumes and Brendon wondered what they were discussing.

He smiled, ducking to find someone a beer as he waited for the King of Punk to arrive. He had plans, things to do, beer to consume and he couldn't waste valuable time dwelling on whatever the hell Gabe and Jon might be discussing.

The bus got considerably more crowded as time went on, along with a few passed out bodies scattered throughout the bus, and William spilled his beer all over everyone, exclaiming it was 'raining beer'. It was just a regular day of tour, really. Nothing exciting - just costumes and a bit more alcohol.

Ryan noticed the arrival first. As usual, Ryan hadn’t touched a drop and was able to walk a straight line. As predicted, Pete Wentz was Dracula, no fucking surprises there. Way to be un-original, Wentz. But Brendon was still closer and he used that to his advantage.

Intercept.

“Pete, it’s great to see you,” he lied, thrusting himself in front of the man, smiling deviously.

Soon he was pressed tightly against the older man, taking shots and licking off the lime from each other’s lips, tasting Pete’s Halloween make-up on his tongue. Camera phones with bright flashes were out and hoots and hollers could be heard. It was just like any other day, only Brendon had more time making out with Pete Wentz than he ever had in his lifetime.

“Pete, stop hogging him-" Jon's rough voice came in, seemingly out of nowhere, gently prying them apart and taking the shot glass from the drunk man’s hand, looking at Brendon with a dark expression before he smeared the drops of lime across his lips, dapping salt on them. His gaze was smoldering and Brendon could only stare, soon feeling the burn of the tequila in the back of his throat and his bandmate’s lips hard on his, nipping at his bottom lip.

Brendon moaned.

And then he was promptly tugged away by Pete.

Whoa, damn, when he did become the center of attention?

And it only progressed from there, Pete wanted to take it to another level, and he was soon unbuckling his pants, pulling his pants down enough for Brendon’s imagination to go a tad wild, the tattoo staring at him in the face.

Jon said something, couldn’t Brendon couldn’t hear; nor did he care.

--

"Yeah," Brendon moaned, in the back of his mind wondering when the hell he'd become such a slut. It must've been in the last three years, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment. From grinning shyly at Pete Wentz to dry humping the man in the back of the Fall Out Boy's tour bus. This had to include some sort of promotion, because as hot as Pete Wentz was, the older man just wasn't his type. "Yeah, y'wanna fuck me don'tcha?"

Pete didn't hesitant to buck his hips forward, pressing their mouths together, the kiss was sloppy and hard and rough and fuck Brendon could feel himself getting hard - From just fucking kissing. Jesus Christ.

He didn't protest when the older man's hands found purchase on his hips, Pete's cock poking him in the hip. And it hit Brendon then - he was about to get fucked by Pete Wentz. Pete Wentz with his dick hanging out of his pants all over the fucking internet. He had seen Pete's cock plenty of times at drunken parties (Pete denied he was an exhibitionist), but suddenly the idea of Pete's dick in him?

Didn't seem so great.

"Fuck, Bren-You have-" he mumbled, lips at Brendon's Adam's apple now, the tips of his teeth scraping against the delicate skin and Brendon moaned. Fucking moaned and inched closer, wanting more. "No fucking idea how much I wanted this. Since...we first met-"

Pete bit down on his neck then and Brendon gasped, partially from pain, but mostly from shock at the older man's revelation.

He definitely hadn't planned on Pete finding his weak spot so easily.

As William had found out during one of their regular drunken sessions on the bus, Brendon was putty when he was bitten hard. William always used to his advantage, and Brendon vaguely wondered if William had exchanged info with Pete beforehand about this.

He could just picture the text message:

'bden is a real cockslut once you fuck his neck, ya.
;)'

In fact, Brendon was positive certain text pleasantries had taken place, what with Pete practically sucking on his neck as if he were actually a vampire.

"Oh fuck, yeah, yeah," Brendon squirmed, babbling incoherently like some fucking broken record porn star as Pete undid the annoying array of buttons on his costume, fingertip trailing to his fly, tugging hard at it unnecessarily, "fuck me, fuck me, fuck me." Did he mention he was a real slut in bed?

Fuck Ryan, fuck Ryan. He didn't need Ryan.

He was gonna fuck Pete Wentz.

"Fuck-" Pete pulled back, and Brendon recognized that face.

He smirked, impishly, patting his back pocket. Oh, he came prepared all right.

Pete arched a brow when Brendon pulled out a condom and a small package of lube from his pocket. The expression clearly read: Slut much?

"Shuttup," he rasped, attaching their lips together, his hands untucking Pete's shirt and feeling the hard plane of muscles underneath. He felt his back pocket vibrate then, his old faithful sidekick, faithfully buzzing as he was about to throw away the last of his sanity and fuck the living shit out of the man who signed them when he wasn't even legal.

A hard knock came on the door.

"Bren, I know you're in here," the voice on the other side was Ryan, and Brendon could immediately recognize the strain in the older boy's tone. "I-I need to talk to you. Jon told me you were in here. Please...T-There's something I gotta-"

Shit.

Pete didn't seem to notice, or maybe he didn't care because he continued to accost the younger boy, his fingers dipping past his waistband now-

"-Pete-Jesus, I, uh erm I really gotta-"

Tripping over his own two feet as he pulled himself away, not bothering to fasten his pants up, he opened the door to reveal Ryan with his hand up, about to knock on the door again.

"I-"

"-Hi," Brendon squeaked; sneaking a peek behind him to see Pete inching closer, and he quickly shut the door behind him.

"You-Pete-"

"I-"

Ryan looked away first. "Your fly's undone."

Brendon could feel his throat closing up on him. He gulped, the aftertaste of tequila and Pete Wentz burning down his throat.

"We'll talk later," was all Ryan said before he left.

--

Cradling a dreadful headache, all Brendon Urie got for almost sleeping with a member from Fall Out Boy was a shit load of candy and the worst hangover of his life. He'd forgotten liquor wasn't a force to be dealt with so lightly. He sure in hell was remembering now.

So, he called William because, because...because. William was a fly guy like that, he'd come to his rescue, no questions asked. They had a special bond, see, and it never required a whole lot of talking. Brendon wondered if he was the walking definition of a cockslut, because every number on his phone wasn't professional, even when they should've been.

Jon walked in then, predictable as ever with his innate ability to walk in at the wrong fucking moment or the right, depending on whose perspective. Looking at the flustered Brendon with his needy gaze at his tiny illuminated phone, Jon smiled big, watching the younger boy flail incoherently. Hell, even Brendon's breakdowns were cute. He couldn't help it and he gave in.

"Brendon," Jon said softly.

"-Oh fuck, Jon, I am a slut," Brendon whispered, eyes wide, flipping his phone shut after the third try. Damn it.

"Well-"

"-Oh God, I didn't blow Pete in front of everyone did I?"

"Well-"

"Oh God."

"Jesus Christ, Brendon, will you shut the fuck up for two fucking seconds?" That did it, because Brendon immediately fell into Jon's arms, or rather - he slung himself around the shocked bassist and mumbled, sadly, "Ryan thinks I'm a cockslut."

"Can you, just like - Not hug me like this?" Jon's voice broke in, his tone awkward and sheepish. The boy fit just so right, and that fucking scared him. "You're not a slut, you're just an idiot."

"Oh well, in that case, that just fixes everything, doesn't it?" Brendon mocked pettily, flinging his arms up as if to prove a point.

"Nope, but don't you feel better? You're not a slut now," Jon said. "You didn't suck Pete Wentz's dick in front of everyone last night."

"Peachy."

-

Even Spencer was mad at him, and Spencer was supposed to be the neutral party in all of this. It's why Brendon liked to talk to him the best.

They fucked up the show the next night. It had started with Spencer speeding up the drum set. Jon flicked a glare at the younger boy but managed to adjust the pace and Ryan easily did too, glancing at Spencer with worried eyes the entire time. Brendon's mind slipped up a little and he missed some the lyrics, but thankfully the audience were too busy singing along to notice and he played it off as being intentional, holding the microphone to them for a full minute so he could gather his thoughts.

He choked when they came to their last song on the setlist. That night was Ryan's turn and he knew Ryan picked it last just to spite him. It was Ryan's subtle way of getting back at him because they hadn't played that song in months. He hated singing that song so much. Singing about Ryan's ex. Singing the words Ryan'd sing to her.

His voice cracked at the word, 'Fuck'.

After the show and countless autographs, when they were finally able to retreat back to the haven of their bus, Spencer made it clear he was made at him. For reasons Brendon couldn't understand. Spencer didn't care for band drama. Then it hit him and his suspicions were confirmed when he asked Jon.

"Brendon, you're like-" The words seemed to be hard to admit, for Jon's voice became shuddery, as if the air had been sucked out of him as he continued, "-this kind of person who I can never stay mad at, even when I should."

Brendon frowned, wringing his hands as he asked, "I can talk to Spence if you want. Tell him I like, bribed you or some shit to get Ryan jealous. I'll-I can't stand you guys being mad at me."

"It's not your fault," Jon said dismissively with a hand motion, and he managed to smile, sharp and cunning and it was so Jon Walker. "You don't realize this...aura you have over people. If you took the time to look, you'd see you're only making this harder for yourself, Bren. I'll take care of Spence myself. Just get your own shit straightened out, all right?"

"Deal," Brendon breathed, smiling at Jon in gratitude, reaching to hug him - but stopped himself, looking at Jon shyly. "I think I get what you mean now."

"Oh, that's not the problem, it's when you're making out with the entire FBR label that's the damn problem," Jon laughed.

--

"Ryan, are you mad at me?"

"No, I'm not."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," the older boy said softly. He noticed Brendon's pout and he walked over, giving the boy a hug. Brendon wasn't the baby in the band but sometimes it was so easy to forget. Brendon was just the type of person you wanted to protect. He wanted to protect Brendon from Pete because he'd always known all along Pete had wanted Brendon. From day one.

"Just, I like you a lot, but I think I went about this the wrong way," Brendon admitted bluntly. He doesn't know what he'd been thinking. He hadn't. It was so obvious Ryan never liked Pete and there was never any competition.

"-And I'm sorry I acted like a slut in front of everyone-"

"Bren, please, I'm not mad," Ryan sighed, ducking his head into the boy's shoulder, nuzzling his neck. "I'm not mad, so shut the fuck up and kiss me."

“What-" Brendon hadn’t seen that one coming.

Ryan closed the gap between them, pressing their lips hard together, Ryan’s tongue gently tracing his bottom lip and Brendon finally came to his senses, kissing the older boy back with everything he had. Kissing Ryan was supposed to be mind-blowing, exactly how Brendon had daydreamed in his head since he first met the boy and it wasn’t. It wasn’t because it lacked something. It wasn’t the right moment. Ryan was forcing it too much and it just felt wrong.

“Ryan-"

“Mmm?” The boy’s eyes were bright; reflecting with something Brendon couldn’t place.

He realized then he never needed to sleep with Ryan in the first place. No, there was something too special about him. Something worth waiting for.

“I wanna take this slow.”

“Me too.”

“Like…really slow. Silly text messages and holding hands and late nights binging on Red bull playing Dungeon Wars, only with handjobs and stuff like that.”

“Oh my God, Bren,” Ryan breathed, his nose tickled the younger’s hairline, lips finding Brendon's cheek, his jaw, his lips, “Me too.”

Best Halloween Ever