Work Text:
Jon/Spencer
Spencer stood outside the bus in the sun, leaning against the side, watching people pass by. Okay, maybe he was dozing a little behind his dark sunglasses. He felt a shadow pass over him and opened his eyes to see Jon walking up to him. “S’up,” he said.
“Where’re Ryan and Brendon?” Jon asked as he leaned up beside Spencer, making sure his shoulder brushed his.
“There was something about the Fall Out Boy bus and Joe was mentioned, I think.” He brought his hand up to his mouth, mimicking smoking a blunt.
Jon rolled his eyes then realized something. “They won’t be back anytime soon, will they?”
Spencer shook his head. “Although I think Zack was going to make sure they didn’t get into too much trouble.”
“But that means the bus is empty.”
Spencer turned his head towards Jon with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah…”
Jon slid his hand into Spencer’s, smiling. “You wanna go make cookies?”
Spencer grinned and clinched Jon’s hand tightly. “Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.”
Jon nodded and pulled Spencer into the bus, locking the door behind them.
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Ryan/Brendon
Ryan looked around the lobby of the adoption agency. He and Brendon were there to start the process so they could adopt a little boy, or a little girl. He didn’t even know what he wanted. He just wanted a child that he and Brendon could raise together and be the best fathers ever. But there was a problem.
His knee was bouncing like crazy. He was so nervous. What if they were rejected? What if /he/ was the reason they were rejected? He didn’t have the best childhood. His father drank himself to death. His mother left when he was little. They wouldn’t let them have a baby.
“Ry? Baby? Are you okay?”
He looked up and saw Brendon looking at him worriedly. He’d placed his hand over Ryan’s and Ryan turned his hand over to grip Brendon’s. “What if they don’t let us have a baby because of me?”
Brendon shifted closer, putting his other hand on Ryan’s. “They won’t. I promise you, Ry. We’re fine. We’re going to be the best dads any child could ever hope for.”
“But what if…”
He was cut off as a woman came up to them. “Mr. Ross and Mr. Urie?” They nodded at her. “Mrs. Weekes is ready to see you.”
Brendon moved to stand up and felt Ryan pulling on his hand. He looked down at him with pursed lips. “It’s going to be okay, Ryan.”
Ryan squeezes his hand tightly. “Don’t let go, Bren. Please.”
“I won’t. Ever.” He pulled Ryan to his feet, never letting go of his hand. “I won’t ever let go, Ryan.”
Ryan smiled and let Brendon drag him off into Mrs. Weekes office. They were going to be the best dads ever.
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Ryan/Dan
“Are you ready?”
Ryan looked up to see Dan standing in the dressing room doorway. He smiled, though it was a little forced. “Not really,” he answered with a sigh, slumping on the couch.
The tall man moved over to sit beside him and Ryan fit himself into his side. Dan wrapped his arm around him and took his hand. Ryan marveled at just how much of a giant Dan was. His hand was at least three times bigger than Ryan’s. It could wrap around his twice.
They sat silently for a few minutes, Ryan soaking in Dan’s calmness. Finally, he decided he needed to admit his fear. “This is the first time I’ve ever gone out there by myself. What if I fuck it up?”
“You won’t,” Dan said. “You’ve been singing and playing these songs around the house for weeks. You know them. You could play them with your eyes closed.”
Ryan didn’t look convinced. He was turning a shade of pale green. Putting his free hand on his stomach, he leaned his head on Dan’s shoulder. “I feel sick. I don’t think I can do this.”
Dan pulled him closer. “You can. I’ll be right here. All of your friends are here. Just pretend you’re having a party at home.”
“Okay.” Ryan looked down at where Dan had his hand. He was really glad he’d met Dan. He’d helped him through some really tough times. And here he was helping again.
Jeremy appeared at the door with a huge smile. “It’s time, Ry.”
Dan turned and looked at Ryan. Ryan nodded and stood up to get his guitar. He suddenly realized that Dan still had his hand. Dan pulled him to him and gave him a soft kiss. “Kill ‘em, munchkin.”
Ryan smiled. “Thank you, my giant. I’ll see you on the other side.”
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Ryan/Spencer
Spencer woke up suddenly. He looked around to see what had woken him. Oh, there was a steady rapping at his window. He went over quickly and opened it. “Ryan! Mom’ll kill you for climbing the wisteria.”
Ryan was dressed in pajamas and a hoodie. Nights even in the oasis of Las Vegas were cool just like in the desert. The thirteen year old moved over to Spencer’s bed and climbed in, pulling the covers up to his head.
Spencer sighed. Another bad night, he guessed. Spencer was twelve, though he sometimes acted like he was an adult, especially for Ryan. He moved over to get in the bed with him, looking down. “Did he come home drunk again?”
The covers moved in what Spencer assumed was a nod. Ryan grabbed the pillow and put it over his head, gripping it tightly. He hated when his father came home like that. Thankfully Spencer’s mom never cared if he came over at any time of night. And Spencer never cared if he climbed in his bed.
Spencer hated when Ryan was like this, wanting to hide. Curling up behind him, he reached over and took Ryan’s hand in his. “I’m here, Ryan. Always.”
Ryan squeezed his hand and actually pulled his head out from under the pillow. “Thank you,” he muttered and shifted back towards Spencer, pulling his arm tighter around him. They fell asleep like that. They always fell asleep like that. That’s what made them best friends.
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Ryan/Gerard
The room smelled like paint and ink. There were canvases, crumpled pages and empty coffee cups everywhere. Tarps covered the floor to keep the paint from staining it. Gerard was sitting at the drawing table, tapping his pencil against the edge. There was nothing on the page before him. He was having trouble with inspiration.
Ryan returned from the studio to find him there. He knew he hadn’t come out at all, because the food he’d left was still in the refrigerator. Tapping on the door lightly, he opened the door and walked in. “Gee? Have you even moved since I left?”
Gerard lifted his head and smiled when he saw Ryan. “Hey. How was recording?”
“It was fine.” Ryan moved over and slid his arms around his neck. “I asked you if you have even moved today.”
Gerard leaned back into him. “Mmm, no. I’ve had a block all day.”
Ryan kissed his cheek. He understood. Having a block sucked for artists. All Gerard had wanted to do was make it go away, but he always went about it the wrong way. “You need to eat, Gee. Now come on. We’ll feed you, get you more coffee and then we’ll see what we can do about that block.”
Gerard grinned broadly. He knew what that meant. “Are we going to use the blindfold tonight?”
Ryan laughed at him and took his hand, urging him out of the chair. “And the whip,” he said as he dragged him from the room to the kitchen.
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Brendon/Spencer
Brendon tentatively walked into the hospital room. He fucking hated hospitals, and the sight that greeted him emphasized that feeling so much. Spencer was lying in the bed, an IV stuck in his arm. He was thin and pale and so very much not Spencer. “You fucking idiot,” he muttered to himself as he forced his legs to move him towards the bed.
Spencer looked up towards him weakly. “Yeah, I know,” he replied, just knowing Brendon was talking about him and his stupid addiction. Brendon just didn’t know what it was like to go home and be completely alone after a tour. Brendon had Sarah and Spencer had… no one. He’d driven Haley off a long time ago. And then Ryan left him. That had been the harder of the two.
“Not you,” Brendon said. “I’m the idiot. How did I not see the signs?”
Spencer’s bony shoulders raised slightly in a shrug. “I did my best to keep them from you and everyone else. I didn’t think it was such a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?!” Brendon’s voice raised in pitch and volume. He shocked himself with how venomous he sounded. “Sorry, sorry. I just…” He reached out to take one of Spencer’s hands. They were still calloused, but they were thinner than Ryan’s had ever been, merely skin and bone.
“Spencer, you’re my fucking best friend. You’re the only one who’s been there through everything.” He looked at Spencer expectantly. Spencer should know this.
Spencer did know this. But he also knew more. “You came home and had Sarah. Dallon went back to Breezy in Utah. Ian went… wherever Ian goes.” He sighed heavily. “I went home and puttered around an empty house. I had no reason to go anywhere. I had no reason to see anyone. Nobody wanted to see me, either.”
“That’s not true,” Brendon objected.
“And did you ever call me up and invite me out?”
Brendon thought about it and his face started turning pink quickly. No, he hadn’t really ever called Spencer up to ask him to go out with him and Sarah or just the two of them go grab a bite to eat or something. He’d always thought Spencer was busy or he’d feel like a third wheel.
Brendon was a shitty friend.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Spence. I’m horrible.”
Spencer squeezed his hand as much as he could. “You are not horrible, Brendon. And I know you’re my best friend. You’re all I have left, but you never were there. You have Sarah. You don’t need me anymore.”
“Oh, bullshit,” Brendon said. “I will always need you. Panic is nothing without you. So, you know, don’t fucking die, okay?” He moved his free hand up to wipe at his eyes. Fucking tears getting in the fucking way.
“I wasn’t trying to,” Spencer admitted. “I just wanted the pain to stop.”
“Then why didn’t you call me?”
“Because you’re always busy.” It actually felt good to let the words out. Spencer had never had the guts to say them out loud. The therapist he’d been seeing before he relapsed again had told him he should talk to Brendon and tell him how he felt. The fucking bitch had been right.
Brendon blinked, looking blankly at Spencer. How the hell… no, he was right. But Brendon was going to change, right here and now. He reached out for the chair that was sitting next to the bed, obviously left there by Spencer’s mother or maybe Jackie or Crystal… or maybe even Linda. Sarah did say she’d been talking to Spencer. He pulled it over and sat down, never letting go of Spencer’s hand. “Well, I will never again be too busy for you, Spencer. You mean too much to me, and you’re far too young to die.” He squeezed his hand and settled in to stay.