Strike Up the Band: Chapter One
bdens_top_hat
No Use Crying Over Spilt Smoothies

“The winner of Smoothie Shack’s ‘Come Eat With Us’ competition will be announced in five minutes!”

Brendon winced as the ear-splitting voice boomed out of the speakers above his head. He suddenly realised why Brent, Freddie and Andy had all avoided this seat. Unfortunately for his band mates, the voice echoed off the walls just as loudly so that everyone received its full volume.

“Oh. My. God. Hi Brendon! Freddie, wow, I just love your moustache! You guys make totally fab music, like, seriously. I love Smoothie Shack so much oh my god…” Brendon tried to zone out as the over-excited fan rambled on, repeating the same speech he’d been hearing all morning. Somehow, he remembered to at least pretend he was listening and smiled at her. She appeared to be around 12 years old with bright blue hair and a Smoothie Shack tee. Brendon hated the band’s merchandise; it was so dull and unoriginal. Two spilt Smoothies leaked down to form the band’s name on top of a black background. He sighed as he recalled the numerous times he’d seen that shirt today.

Finally, after more fake smiles, nodding, and a signed CD, the obsessive fan skipped off to scream with her friends. Brendon glanced up at the queue and genuinely smiled as he realised that there was only one more fan left. The fan shuffled forward awkwardly and Brendon managed to get a good look at him.

The first surprise was that the fan was a boy. The second was that the boy was around the same age as Brendon. Probably about 17 or 18, which is around 6 years older than the usual fans. Chestnut brown hair rose into a fohawk, revealing scintillating chocolate eyes, emphasised by circles of dark eyeliner. A Beatles tee hung from his slim figure, accompanied by a pair of black skinny jeans and black converse. His cheeks flushed red as he noticed the singer staring at him.

“Erm, hi.” He murmured without taking his eyes off his shoes.

“Hey there, you got anything for us to sign?” Brendon smiled warmly. The boy fumbled around helplessly in his beige shoulder bag and presented them with a violet guitar pick, the initials ‘B.U.’ were inscribed on it.

“Could you, um, sign this? I caught it at one of your concerts.” He blushed further as Brendon inspected the pick.

“Oh cool, are you a guitarist too?” Brendon grinned. He always held a particular interest in guitars, which made sense as he was the lead guitarist of the band.

“I’ve been learning for, um, 9 years, I think…” the boy stared at the pick lovingly.

“Awesome. Well, unfortunately I don’t know if we’ll all be able to sign it-” Brendon began as he inspected the pick.

“That’s okay,” the boy butted in, “erm, I just want you to sign it. Sorry guys, um, no offence…”. The others smiled gratefully; they got to rest their aching hands at last.

“Okay so, ‘to…’?” Brendon glanced up and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, George. But, er, most people call me Ryan.” Ryan’s cheeks went even brighter as he realised that his last sentence made no sense at all.

“To Ryan, cool pick, Brendon.” He read aloud as he struggled to fit the words onto the small triangular shape. He subconsciously added two kisses after his name before handing it back.

Ryan murmured a thank you and began to shuffle towards the exit, clutching his signed possession lovingly. Brendon watched the boy and was deafened by another announcement that the draw was about to begin. A thought hit him just as hard as the booming voice.

“Wait, aren’t you gonna enter the draw?” he yelled.

“I don’t really win things very often but, er, sure.” He smiled weakly and picked up the small notepad, adding his name to the excited scrawls of other fans before heading over to join the crowd surrounding the stage where the winner would be announced.

Brendon looked down at the notepad and smiled with realisation. The tiny handwriting at the bottom had elegantly swirled the name ‘George Ryan Ross III’.

The notebook was snatched from in front of him as Brent appeared, the band’s bassist and self-appointed manager. He tutted as he read the list, turning his nose up as he read the last name. Brendon, who’d been watching him, snatched the paper back protectively.

“They all sound like morons to me, but at least we’re getting a good meal out of it. We have to get on stage for the draw, get moving.” He grunted before waddling off.

Brendon pulled a face at the back of the bassist’s head and headed towards his fellow band members on the stage. They didn’t hold many competitions as they didn’t really have many fans to enter them. Although what the crowd lacked in numbers, it made up for in enthusiasm. Andy handed him a microphone and gave him a gentle shove into centre stage. Freddie was the singer but everyone knew that Brendon was the fan’s favourite member.

“Ahem, testing, one two three,” he muttered into the microphone. The crowd went silent and stared at him expectantly, “as you all know we are holding a competition where one of you could win the chance to have dinner with us at Esteban’s. Now, without further ado, I will announce the winner.”

Andy was at hand with part of his drum kit and began the ratatatat of a drumroll. The crowd all crossed their fingers simultaneously as they whispered fake messages such as “good luck” and “I really hope you get it” to each other. A wave of silence hit the room as the last tat hit the drum.

A tall, thin woman tottered onto the stage in 50ft high heels and an equal amount of make-up. She held a glass fishbowl filled with tiny folded pieces of paper with her manicured hands. Brendon took the bowl gently and dived into the sea of paper, his hand wove through the slips like a dolphin in the ocean. The dolphin grabbed hold of a tiny slip at the very bottom. Brendon lifted it out and unwound it, his face reflecting the same apprehension as the crowd.

“And the winner is,” he grinned into the microphone, “George-”

A young girl screamed and clapped her hands, hugging each of her friends before running towards the stage, arms flailing. Brendon watched her, baffled. She beamed at him as she got on stage.

“Erm, hi?” he raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Hi. I’m George. Technically Georgina. Or Georgie. Any of those really.” She babbled.

A movement at the back caught Brendon’s eye. Somebody had begun heading towards the exit. A lanky boy in a Beatle’s tee –

“Wait!” Brendon shouted. The girl stopped mid-babble and the boy froze, but didn’t turn round. He could hear Brent hissing at him from the side of the stage but he didn’t care. He knew he was being rude and the fans were waiting impatiently, but he just stared at the back of the Beatle’s tee, transfixed.

“I didn’t finish reading out the name,” he said, avoiding the panicked glances of the girl to his right, “the winner is, George Ryan Ross. The third.”

He smiled as the boy swivelled and his shocked eyes met Brendon’s. He’d won something. For the first time in his life, he’d actually won something. The crowd seemed to part, either out of awe or burning jealousy. Most likely the latter.

Georgina, Georgie, George, or whatever her preferred name was, glared at the boy. Her cheeks burned red with anger and embarrassment. Desperate to leave a mark on what used to be her favourite band, the girl grabbed the recently signed CD from her bag and smashed it on the floor. However, everyone was watching as Brendon congratulated the boy with the ridiculous name instead of her. Furious, she stormed off the stage with her head held high.

Brendon stared at the hotel mirror and sighed. If he had a dollar for every time he sighed, he could buy a unicorn. His phone bleeped. A message from Audrey. He sighed again.

Make that two unicorns.

He crossed the room and picked up his phone. Maybe it was a nice message saying that they should get back together. Or that he could have his house back.

You left your underwear in the bedroom, you filthy jerk. I burned it so don’t bother coming round to collect them. Oh and by the way, in case you were wondering, my lawyer said that this is definitely my house so get lost.

Nope, definitely not a nice message. He snapped the phone shut, adding in a third sigh in the process. Brendon lowered himself onto the worn, itchy fabric of his hotel bed and observed the tiny room.

A dull, brown wallpaper clung lifelessly to the walls, peeling off in a number of places. A bulb buzzed in the centre of the room, like a mosquito who’d lost all hope. The bed on which he sat was old and worryingly unstable, dotted with a collection of concerning stains. Opposite the bed stood a small set of drawers and a dusty, cracked mirror. He glanced at the door for the bathroom and its broken lock but dared not enter the room. The whole place just reeked of depression and unsuccessfulness.

Deciding that anywhere was better than this dismal place, Brendon gussied himself up in the mirror, sighed a few more times, and headed out in to the equally dreary hallway.

“Brendon! Hey, wait up!”

Freddie pranced down the hall in a frighteningly white suit, paired with an electric blue tie. He was almost too gay to function.

“Oh hey Freddie. Looking forward to dinner?” Brendon grinned. Out of everyone in the band, he got on with Freddie the most. It was almost impossible not to.

“Well, the food sounds fab-u-lous! But the boy? Not my cup of tea, my dear.” He laughed in his inviting African accent, hands flailing around like planes around King Kong. Like one of the fan girls from earlier, Brendon thought.

“Better than one of those Howler Monkeys. Oh sorry, I meant fans.” He winked, causing Freddie to erupt in laughter once more.

They hopped into the lift and whacked (literally whacked, some suspiciously sticky substance rendered a simple push useless) the ‘Ground Floor’ button. Blondie began to boom out of the speakers as they began their descent.

“Hangin’ on the telephoooone!” Freddie sang along loud enough for every hotel floor to hear. Brendon grinned and rolled his eyes mockingly as a ding bounced off the four, grimy walls.

Brent and Joe were waiting for them at the lobby bar; Joe sipped a Fanta and Brent stared at his watch impatiently. The sound of footsteps caused him to glance up as the duo approached.

“What time do you call this?” he complained.

“About quarter-to-seven.” Brendon replied, poker-faced. Freddie stifled a grin.

Brent’s eyes did a full 360° turn inside their sockets as he struggled to find the part of his brain labelled ‘sense-of-humour’. He eventually gave up the search and gestured towards the door.

Brent rambled on about how late they were going to be due to this major setback as the band clambered into their taxi. Brendon zoned out to the sight of the city lights. His mind began to wander; would Audrey ever forgive him? Did he want her to? Did he even regret it? These thoughts crawled through his head like cockroaches: relentless and indestructible.

The taxi screeched to a stop outside Esteban’s. A giant clock outside informed them that it was only 8:55 – they were 5 minutes early. Brent needed to chill out more and stop being so worried.

The interior of the restaurant was very… odd. Yet it was pretty, in its own way. Ribbon hung limply from the ceiling, dusting the heads of visitors. The main colour scheme seemed to be red, yellow and bright blue – not the most appealing combination. A blonde teenager sporting a tight shirt and mini-skirt was filing her nails at the till, smacking her lips as she tackled a piece of gum.

“What d’ya want?” she snapped as she spotted the band approaching the desk. Not your usual greeting at a restaurant.

“We’ve booked a table for five, but the fifth isn’t here yet.” Brendon smiled half-heartedly, hoping that she would mirror his mood.

“Whatever. Seats over there.” She huffed, proving the guitarist wrong.

They shuffled over to a bright blue sofa, decorated with a red and yellow striped blanket. Brent didn’t sit but instead resorted to pacing and complaining about anything he could find (Brent could find something wrong with rainbows if he really wanted to).

After a few minutes the door swung open, causing an extremely loud ding echo through the restaurant. Two lanky legs strode through the door, followed by a 3-sizes-too-big Beatles jumper. Brendon jumped up eagerly but regained his composure after a few suspicious glances from his fellow band members. He didn’t know why he was so excited – after all, it was just another fan.

The fan grinned sheepishly and wandered over to greet the band. Brent mumbled something about being hungry and signalled to the oh-so-happy waitress to assign them a table. A lump formed in Brendon’s throat which he couldn’t explain.


Strike Up the Band (Masterpost)
bdens_top_hat
Strike Up the Band
Ryden
Brendon's POV


I am not, nor have I ever been, affiliated with Panic! at the Disco or it's members. This is merely a fictional story written by a fan. It's perfectly clean, albeit the odd kiss. Enjoy ~

Chapter One ~ http://bdens-top-hat.livejournal.com/2534.html

My One Regret Is You - Part 2
bdens_top_hat
It's taken a while (sorry) but here's part two of My One Regret Is You Brencer fan fic. Once again, I am not, nor have I ever been, affiliated with panic! at the disco. This is all fictional and came from my odd mind. Enjoy :)

Brendon went over the conversation again in his mind. What could’ve made Spencer react in such an odd way? Maybe Spencer had misheard him?

He shook his head. Spencer has ears like a bat. He didn’t know what had happened but he knew that it had upset his best friend.

He stared down at the sticky-note in front of him. It had been written hastily and Brendon could only just decode it, if he squinted a little bit.

Gone out. Back later. Don’t follow.

Gone out where? When’s later? Why did he not want to be followed? Brendon fiddled with the car keys in his hand. Spencer hadn’t taken the Ford Fiesta so he must’ve walked wherever it was he’d gone.

He threw the keys in the air and caught them swiftly. He debated whether it was a smart idea to go after him or not. Especially since he’d specifically told him not follow. He didn’t want to upset Spencer any more, it already hurt him enough to see his friend this way. Besides, maybe he just needed some time alone? He put the keys back on the table. But what if he’s in trouble? Brendon snatched the keys back up again. He checked the clock quickly and realised that Spencer had been gone for almost half an hour. Every tick matched his heartbeat; pumping faster and faster as the ticking got louder and louder. Every second that he stood there something could be happening to Spencer…

“Screw it.” He said, flicking the light switch and storming determinedly out of the front door. No matter what Spencer thought, he needed Brendon right now.

It was only when he was four streets away that Brendon realised he had no idea where he was going. He swore quietly to himself and pulled over to think. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes.

Where would Spencer go, he thought, racking his brain, that’s within walking distance to calm down?

Brendon suddenly remembered. He grinned at the memory and headed back out onto the road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 years ago

“Spencer! Hey Spence! Wait up!” Brendon choked, pausing to catch his breath.

“Hurry up Bren! You take forever!” Spencer yelled over his shoulder.

Brendon forced his legs to keep moving. He didn’t even know where he was going. Spencer had just grabbed him and told him to follow.

He’d been happily munching on a delicious cheese sandwich, Spencer had gone out for a morning jog. This was part of his new diet plan, he was determined to lose weight. Brendon thought this was a ridiculous idea. Spencer looked great just the way he was. Definitely the hottest of the pair of them. Anyway, Spencer had burst through the door, said he’d found something, gestured for Brendon to follow, and then ran back out.

They were halfway across a field that was quite close to their house. Brendon recognised it; he’d walked past it several times before. Although he’d never actually gone across it.

That exercise sure is helping Spencer, Brendon thought as he paused for the 6th time to catch his breath. He glanced up and saw Spencer dissapear into some bushes. He groaned and kicked off again, clutching his chest as he felt a stitch form.

He rounded a corner and found himself colliding head-first with Spencer, who was stood dead still. Brendon opened his mouth to ask why but stopped as he too in the surroundings.

The tall Oaks towered over them, showering everything with tranquil shadows. A single beam of light broke through the canopy of leaves, giving the whole place a heavenly feel. The bushes they’d come through only had a small gap to crawl through; the only entrance to this haven. At the far end a river flowed gently past, creating a beautiful trickling sound that floated along with the calm August breeze.

In the centre of this graceful garden stood an old, wooden swing.Weeds had entwined themselves up the chipped the poles. Two rusty chains clung to a beautifully carved wooden seat.

“Wow…” Brendon gasped breathlessly. Partly because he’d just ran all the way here straight after lunch, but mainly because the scene before him was so stunning that it had knocked the air out of him. It was as if someone had plucked it straight from a storybook.

Spencer nodded in awed agreement.

“I tried a different route today, you know, for fun, and I heard a river so I investigated. I found this and, I erm, thought you’d like it…” he explained, smiling, and gestured for Brendon to try out the swing.

They brushed off a few cobwebs before Brendon carefully sat down. The seat was suprisingly comfy and sturdy. He kicked off and began to swing back and forth, in time to the gentle rush of the river. He felt Spencer’s tender hands give him a little push.

The place was so beautiful and serene, Brendon couldn’t help smiling. This place was all his.

He turned and saw Spencer beaming too. No, this place was all theirs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brendon slammed the car door shut and began to race across the field. It had become overgrown from years of neglect. An abandoned deflated football layed tangled in the grass, long forgotten.

He continued running, dodging other distant memories deserted by their owners. He kept going until he reached the familiar cluster of leaves that he’d pushed aside many times before.

Spencer had his back to Brendon. He was sat still on the swing, staring into the river. It was now a murky brown and seemed to be trickling slower than it used to.

“This was always a good place to come and think…” Brendon said quietly.

Spencer snapped round in surprise. His eyes were red and puffy; had he been crying? He looked sad at first but this soon turned to anger.

“What are you doing? Did you follow me here?!” he yelled, breaking the tranquil atmosphere. He stood up, hastily rubbing the tears from his eyes.

“Have you been…? Spencer, are you okay?” Brendon rarely  ever saw him cry. He wanted to hug him, to hold him and tell him everything was gonna be okay. But the expression on Spencer’s face kept him back.

“I’m fine. It’s just… hayfever.” He snapped back, looking back to the river. Brendon caught a glimpse of his tear stained cheeks but kept quiet. He knew Spencer didn’t have hayfever, but he hated it when his best friend was upset with him.

Are you sure?” Brendon asked calmly, but immediately regretted it when Spencer gave him a look as if to say shut the hell up about it. “Okay, well, do you want a lift home? It’s getting kind of dark…”

He kicked the dirt nervously, hoping Spencer wouldn’t yell at him again.

He heard a sigh and glanced up to see Spencer’s muscles relax so that he just looked tired and worn out. He nodded weakly.

Brendon guided him with one hand on his back. He rubbed it soothingly every now and then.

They clambered into the car and drove back in silence. When they finally reached the house Brendon heard a low grumbling noise.

“Oops. We, erm, haven’t had dinner…” Spencer blushed, rubbing his noisy stomach.

Brendon nodded, reaching up to comfort his own stomach. They went inside and he knocked them up a pot noodle each before crashing on the sofa.

Brendon opened his mouth to question Spencer on his odd reaction earlier, but he looked so peaceful and happy that he just smiled and continued eating. They both went to bed early that night. So much had happened in just one day! Neither of them mentioned it but Brendon knew they’d have to talk about it at some point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do we have green or red milk?”

“I’m pretty sure we have white milk.”

Spencer rolled his eyes and grabbed the milk with a green bottlecap and put it in the trolley. Shopping with Brendon was a nearly impossible task.

“Right, what’s next on the list?” he asked.

Brendon unfolded the hastily written shopping list in his pocket.

“Loo roll…” he read, grinning.

“Grow up.” Spencer said, failing as he tried not to smile. They set off to find the loo roll, deciding on the one with a Koala on it (“Koalas are adorable!” Brendon had said).

“Next?”

“Erm… aha! Nutella.” He read. His voice broke slightly as he said the last word. Spencer gulped.

It had been 3 days since the ‘picnic incident’ and neither of them had dared bring it up. Spencer cleared his throat and nodded, putting on a false smile as if nothing awkward had happened.

“I think it’s this way.” He said. Brendon gave him an odd look and sighed, trotting along beside the trolley. He could tell that Brendon was eager to find out what was going on, but Spencer had no desire to tell him. At least, not yet…

“Found it!” Brendon called; he’d run ahead to search. He had the giant sized one because that’s honestly just how much chocolate spread they eat. It should last them about a week, two at most.

“Anything else?” Spencer asked. After being around food for an hour he was dying to get some inside him.

“Nope, that’s all! Come on, let’s buy this junk and and eat it!” he grinned, staring hungrily at the Nutella. His mind seemed to work the same way as Spencer’s.

Before long they weremuching on some chicken wraps and drinking Dr Pepper (they’d visited Dallon the day before and had stolen from his secret Dr Pepper stash). Brendon started fidgeting. He fidgeted quite a lot, actually. Spencer raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t find the remote.” Brendon spewed lettuce and chicken everywhere.

“I have a better idea.” Spencer smirked, putting his can down on the coffee table.

He slipped into the cupboard under the stairs, knocking before he entered (a tradition they’d started when they moved in. They pretended that Harry Potter lived there so you had to knock before you enter). Spencer smiled at the ridiculous things they used to do as he rummaged around.

“Aha!” he triumphed, emerging from the cupboard holding a rather dusty Scrabble box.

Brendon moaned jokingly but helped to set it up in between munches of his wrap. They both loved board games.

At first they attempted to make intelligent words but gave up when they couldn’t find a dictionary (Brendon insisted ‘brendonopolus’ was a word), so they just put immature words instead.

“Boobs. That’s five letters, aw yeah!” Spencer smirked, noting down his score.

“So immature…” Brendon chortled.

“It’s your fault for putting ‘bottom’.” Spencer winked, taking a big swig of his beer.They’d run out of Dr Pepper and decided alcohol was the next best thing.

Brendon stared at his letters thoughtfully, tongue sticking out in intense concentration. Spencer smiled; he loved it when Brendon did that.

“What are you grinning at?” he said, looking up at Spencer through a gap in his fringe.

“Nothing.” Spencer blushed and began picking out more letters.

“Aha!” Brendon said, managing to find another word.

He placed three letters across one of Spencer’s more mature words. They both beamed down at the board. Right in the centre sat two words intertwined. Two short but beautiful words; love and hope.

Spencer woke with a jolt. A ‘Q’ and an ‘R’ fell to the floor. He rubbed his eyes groggily. Scrabble pieces were strewn everywhere. The board was nowhere to be seen.

Spencer tried to sit up but soon gave up. His head was pounding; how much beer had he drunk? His legs felt like lead. Looking down he found a big, black lump lying across them.

“Urgh, Brendon.” He groaned as the lump shifted and wrapped around Spencer’s leg. Under normal circumstances he would have really enjoyed this, but when you have a hangover and you’re sat on something that feels suspisciously like a scrabble board, it’s just plain irritating.

“Brendon! Move your loser butt!” he yelled.

“Not a loser…” the lump muttered, snuggling closer to Spencer who sighed and scanned the room for some kind of weapon.

An empty water bottle was sat on the table next to him. Perfect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brendon rubbed his aching head as he muched on a bowl of cornflakes. He felt the attack was unnessecary. He would’ve got up… eventually.

“Stop complaining, I only tapped you on the head.” Spencer tried to supress a grin.

Brendon stuck his tongue out and shoved another spoonful of soggy cereal into his mouth. He preffered to keep quiet when Spencer had a hangover; he could get very cranky. Instead, he chose to stare out of the kitchen window. What actually happened last night, he pondered as a robin flew onto the branch of an oak tree. All he could remember was Scrabble and then the rest was just a blur.

He couldn’t stop wondering how he’d ended up curled up at Spencer’s legs? It was quite an awkward position to sleep-crawl into so he must’ve been awake. Besides, whatever they’d done it didn’t mean anything. They were drunk, right?

He looked back at Spencer who’s eyes were glassy. Maybe he was thinking the same thing. Their eyes met and they both looked away, blushing. Why were they so embarassed? They had nothing to be embarassed about! They’d gotten drunk before.

Spencer stood up suddenly and made a grab for the car keys, but Brendon was quicker.

“And where do you think you’re going?” he queried, swirling the keys in his hand teasingly.

“I was gonna go…” Spencer stuttered, staring at the tiled floor.

“… run away again?” Brendon interrupted.

Silence. Brendon frowned.

“Spence, you can’t keep doing this. Now, tell me what’s wrong?! And don’t you dare say nothing! You’ve been grumpy and stroppy ever since…”

“Ever since you met Sarah.” Spencer choked, his eyes watery.

Brendon felt like Spencer had whacked him around the head a second time. The air escaped his lungs and he felt his lips move limply in an attempt to reply. What did he mean? Didn’t he like Sarah? Then it hit him. The colour drained from his face and body suddenly felt ice cold. He knew what had been going on.

“Maybe we should discuss this in the living room.” Brendon murmured, his voice barely audible. Spencer nodded slightly and they shuffled awkwardly through the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer’s whole body shook as though it had given off an earthquake. His throat grew dry and he could feel a lump forming when he attempted speech. His fingers fumbled around, trying to get a grip on the armchair despite his trembling hands, and lowered himself into it. By the look  on Brendon’s face he seemed to have guessed what had been happening, but Spencer told him anyway.

“2 years ago,” he spluttered, his voice slightly more high pitched than usual as he fought to keep his eyes dry of tears, “is when it started. I began to notice the way being with you would always cheer me up. The way your laugh always made me laugh. The way my body grew warm and a smile would spread across my face when our skin touched…” he paused and glanced at Brendon. He was sat with his head resting on his hands, deep chocolate brown eyes gazing intently into Spencer’s. He gulped and continued.

“At first I thought it was because we were such good friends, but then I noticed… other things. Like the way your eyes glisten like the moon. The crinkles that form in the corners of your gorgeous dark eyes when you’re happy. The way you look away whenever you smile or laugh.” He gazed into Brendon’s beautiful, understanding eyes, “The way my heart felt as if it had been ripped out and smashed to pieces when you met Sarah.”

Now it was Brendon’s turn to look away, guilt clear on his pale face. Spencer immediately felt horrible for his honesty.

They both focused on the coffee table for a few minutes. A few bottles from the night before were still scattered around the room. That night felt as if it happened a thousand nights ago instead of one. Brendon opened his mouth to speak but Spencer interrupted; he knew what was coming and he didn’t want to hear it.

“Don’t worry. I’ll go pack my bags now. Ian has a spare bed, I’ll go there. We’ll still see eachother at band practice and concerts but I’ll try to stay out of your way,” he said monotonously, busying himself by cleaning up bottle so that Brendon couldn’t see the salty water streaming down his cheeks.

“No, Spence. Let me talk.” Brendon whispered sternly. Spencer turned to see tears brimming in his best friend’s eyes. No, wait, old best friend. He wiped the moisture from his own face, bracing himself for the worst.

“I… I… I think I… I feel the same way…” Brendon stammered, he looked confused yet understanding. His tear-stained face was now lined with realisation.

“Y-you what?”

“I love you, Spence.” A smile crept onto Brendon’s face, breaking through the oncoming flood of tears.

“I love you too, Brendon!” Spencer criedd, encasing his friend in a massive bear hug.

The moment was so perfect, so beautiful, that he couldn’t believe it was happening. For 3 years he’d loved Brendon but he thought he would never love him back! Oh, how wrong he was! But something was nagging at Spencer’s mind, trying to break through his excitement. Something important. What was he forgetting?

The loving silence was broken by a strangely eery mexican hat dance ringing through the house. Spencer froze. How could he have forgotten about Sarah?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brendon’s emotions were flying all over the place. His sudden understanding of Spencer’s attitude, an answer to the odd feeling he gets around him, why living with him has been so awkward. But then there’s Sarah.

The phone was still ringing manically. It felt ice cold in his palm. He glanced at the new love of his life, unsure of what to do.

“Hey, honey!” her voice as soft like velvet, yet it stung like a bee.

“Hey there…” Brendon feigned happiness. Not that he wasn’t happy, he was ecstatic! Just not about his girlfriend.

“I just called to say I can drop by and see you tomorrow! If you’re not busy, of course…” Sarah chirped, bubbly as always. Brendon realised that he would have to see her soon if he was going to break up with her. And this was perfect

“Yeah, sure!” he replied with honest joy. They said their goodbyesand hung up. Brendon told Spencer his plan, who then nodded and grinned in agreement. He reached out and grabbed one of Brendon’s hands, carefully tracing the outline of each finger.

“Hey, I’m still a taken man you know.” He pushed Spencer away teasingly.

“Who cares, she’s had her turn.” He smirked and leaned forwards, placing his soft warm lips on top of Brendon’s, pressing them gently.

Brendon moaned with pleasure. He’d always thought kissing another man would feel weird, but it just felt right. A warm sensation rose inside him, nothing like what he felt when Sarah kissed him. Spencer caressed his cheek as Brendon gripped his hair, wanting more but being deprived of this desire. Spencer pushed him away gently.

“No, you shouldn’t cheat on Sarah. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow before you can have your way with me.” He winked and retired to stroking intricate patterns on Brendon’s soft hands. Waiting quickly became the most agonising thing on the planet. Every time Spencer looked at him with those piercing diamonds he had to resist the urge to kiss him again and again.

They spent the morning cuddled up to eachother. They’d cuddled before but this was different. It was more intimate. More special. Spencer placed a tempting kiss on his forehead, tightening his grip on Brendon’s hand slightly as if he were scared to lose him. They shared a smile.

Time seemed to tick by much slower than usual. Brendon checked the clock twice just to check it was still working. Also to busy himself so that he didn’t find the need to cling to Spencer.

Finally the windows grew dark and they agreed on an early night. Brendon was about to climb into his own bed when he felt a hand on his shoulder hold him back.

“Wait.” Spencer whispered. He went to his own bed but instead of lying down, he began to push it across the room. Brendon grinned and helped him out. Before long they’d created a make-shift double bed and both collapsed on to it.

A few warm and careless kisses were exchanged before Brendon fell into a peaceful slumber, protected by the warm embrace of Spencer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer woke up early the next day, but refused to open his eyes. He’d been having the most beautiful dream. After managing to build up some courage, he’d confessed his love to Brendon and they’d spent a wonderful night in eachother’s arms!

Something nudged his ribcage, forcing him to reluctantly open one eyelid, ridding him of any hopes of returning to the beautiful dream. But what he saw made a smile burst across his face. Brendon was sprawled across the now double bed, one arm wrapped tightly around Spencer’s waist. He nuzzled closer.

Spencer sighed with a mixture of joy and relief. The dream was actually an even more perfect reality! Sunlight sneaked through a gap in the curtains, illuminating Brendon’s delicate features. He stroked a bright cheekbone and realised how happy and peaceful he felt just lying there together.

Brendon’s eyes flickered open, revealing two chocolate circles that batted long black eyelashes at him premisculously. God he was gorgeous.

He shoved the duvet off and realised neither of them had bothered to undress the night before. Spencer was about to suggest they showered together but was worried Brendon might think this was moving a bit too fast. Instead he slipped out of bed and had a quick one on his own. After yanking on his favourite Queen t-shirt and a pair of jeans he plodded downstairs to bake some pancakes.

Brendon came skipping down the stairs as he was pouring in the batter. He was wearing Spencer’s dinosaur top.

“Do I smell pancakes?”he grinned, pulling up a chair and licking his lips eagerly.

“Do you own any clothes?” Spencer smirked, leaning over the table to give him a morning kiss. Brendon stuck his tongue out before accepting the kiss happily.

Spencer was just cleaning up the plates after their scrumptious breakfast when there was a light tap on the front door. He was startled for a moment as they rarely ever had visitors, especially this early in the morning, but he soon remembered. He nodded at Brendon who opened the door, a fake smile plastered  on his face.

“Hey guys!” Sarah shrieked, hugging Spencer awkwardly and then dive bombing Brendon with kisses.

“Hey… honey.” Brendon said, struggling to speak through Sarah’s bear hug.

She released him and stood there being at the two of them, cocking her head slightly at Spencer. He got the message.

“Er, I’ll go make some coffee…” he excused himself and went back to the kitchen. It was probably better if he wasn’t in the room during all of this.

Spencer tried to be as quiet as possible so that he could earwig on their conversation. He wished he could be in there to help Brendon; breaking up with people was never his strong point. But he kept his ground, knowing that his interference would only make things worse. Instead, he continued to strain his ear towards the living room door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sarah, we need to talk.” Brendon sighed, watching the smile dissappear from his girlfriend’s face.

“Oh God.” She said, sitting down on the sofa. She knew what was coming.

“I’m sorry but… well, there’s no easy way to say this… you see…” Brendon stammered, desperately trying to find the right words. He talked to the floor, unwilling to make eye contact.

“You’re breaking up with me.” She guessed. Brendon glanced up and met her eyes; they were filled with a mixture of confusion and misery.

“I’m sorry. You really are a beautiful girl. And you have a wonderful personality. And any man would be lucky to have you. Well, er, any straight man. I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’m gay.” He managed to choke out.

Sarah nodded, which left Brendon very confused. This wasn’t what he’d expected at all.

“I guess I sort of saw this coming. I hope you and Spencer are happy together.” She smiled warmly and pecked Brendon on the cheek before walking out, brushing past a shocked Spencer who was standing in the doorway. “Bye!”

And with that final chirp, she was gone. Brendon was surprised at how well that had gone. At least, he thought it had gone well . But what he was most shocked about was how Sarah had guessed that they were together.

“How did she know…?” You never even mentioned me!” Spencer was still plastered to the spot, bewildered. He placed the now-stone-cold-coffee on the table.

“I have no idea.” Brendon furrowed his brow, then grinned up at his boyfriend cheekily, “Earwigging were we?”

Spencer blushed but managed to come out of his stupur. He embrased Brendon in a warm hug before kissing him, long and hard.

“I love you so much, Brendon Urie.” He murmured between short, hot kisses.

“I love you too, Spencer Smith.” Brendon whispered back.

It’s taken 3 years, Brendon thought to himself as he felt Spencer’s firm, warm lips on his own, but we’re finally together.

The End.


Writer's Block: Dear God
bdens_top_hat
If Adam and Eve had children, then surely their children would have to mate with eachother to produce more children. This is incest, which is forbidden in the Christian religion. How does that make any sense, God? Hmm?
(no offence to any religious people, just what I think)

Writer's Block: Bookmarks
bdens_top_hat
What is the last great book you read?
Has to be The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. Just finished reading it and it was a fantabulous book, definitely reccomend it if you haven't read it. The film looks good as well :D

Woman In Black Review
bdens_top_hat
Yeah so I went to see Woman in Black. It was brilliant, hats off to Daniel Radcliffe on his stunning performance! Probably won't sleep for a while and I won't be looking out of dark windows any time soon but I reccomend it :D

Hellooooo
bdens_top_hat
So I've already posted the first part of one of my fan fics but here's a quick intro to moi. So I'm a 15 year old who loves panic! at the disco and fall out boy. I mainly do Brencer fan fics but I might do other ships as well. I might also post a lil bit of poetry? Anyhoo, feedback and friends would be verrrryyyy nice. THANK YOU :D
ps: if you ever wanna contact me just message me on twitter @Brend0nstophat , it's where I spend most of my time. Adios :)

My One Regret Is You
bdens_top_hat
I am not affiliated with, nor have I ever met, panic! at the disco. this is all fiction, none of this has ever happened. Enjoy :)

Spencer swirled the diet coke in his blistered hands. At least the tour had finished and they could finally go home.

Footsteps echoed across the hall. Spencer raised his head slightly and saw Brendon beaming at him from across the hotel lobby. Spencer smiled back until he heard giggling from around the corner.

Sarah bounded over to Brendon like a little terrier, slipping her hand into his and pecking him on the cheek. His attention turned to her.

Spencer lowered his head and felt the smile quickly fade from his face. His stomach curled and he felt his heart shrink. It’s not that he hates Sarah exactly; she’s really nice and seems to make Brendon… happy.

Spencer swallowed roughly, drinking his coke quickly to disguise as Dallon raised a questioning brow at him.

 He didn’t actually know the true reason why this feeling of utter hatred rose inside of him whenever Sarah entered the room. All he knew for sure was that it wasn’t a feeling that he enjoyed.

Spencer dared to take another glance; Brendon seemed to be taking his time joining them on the sofa…

Wrong move. They were making out.

Spencer’s stomach lurched at the sight, as if it was crying out at him to look away. He decided to try and distract himself by joining in with Ian and Dallon’s conversation…

“… but they totally make me look awesome!” Ian exclaimed, clearly halfway through a debate.

“No, Ian. You are not wearing those on our next tour!” Dallon retaliated.

Oh, Spencer realised they were arguing over whether Ian’s on-stage-sunglasses were a good idea or not. He decided that this was not a debate which he wanted to be a part of. Instead, he returned to swirling his slightly flat drink.

The sofa bounced slightly and Spencer looked up to see that Brendon had collapsed next to him. A quick look around told him that Sarah must have popped out as she was nowhere in sight.

“Hey, where’s that thing that was on your lips?” Spencer asked, attempting (unsuccessfully) to hide a smile.

“What thing?” Brendon puzzled, absentmindedly stroking his lips.

“Sarah.” He replied, grinning. He liked having Brendon to himself, no ‘love-blinded’, psychotic fans to interrupt them. And, best of all, no Sarah.

Brendon chuckled. Spencer loved his chuckle, the way he instantly looked down afterwards, self-conscious for no apparent reason that Spencer could see.

No, Spencer thought to himself, I’m over this. He’s with Sarah now. He’s happy. I have to move on.

But that smile… Spencer’s heart melted every time that guilty little smiled danced across Brendon’s face.

He shook his head and stood up, mumbling something about needing to stretch his legs. It was really just an excuse to clear his head. He seriously needed to stop this ridiculous crush on Brendon. He was his best friend! Heck, he was gonna be his best man when Brendon actually finds the courage to ask the she-demon!

The cold British air immediately encased him as the doors slid open. Spencer loved Britain, he really did. The food, the friendly atmosphere, the accent… but the weather? That he could do without.

He shuddered and pulled his coat tighter around him, savouring what warmth he had. The sea air rushed at him, it reminded him of home. The hours that he used to spend surfing with Brendon and then relaxing in the afternoon sun. The days before Sarah.

Brighton had a couple of nice beaches, he chose the one closest to the hotel.

It was a brisk walk away but Spencer didn’t really mind. The seaside was always a good place to think so it was worth the slight exercise. Luckily it was too early for annoying little kids to be running around, screaming and managing to drop ice-cream everywhere. There was only a dog walker (all though it looked more like the dog walking the man) and a man with a sketch pad who Spencer guessed to be some kind of artist.

Removing his purple converses, Spencer paddled ankle deep into the glistening blue sea.  He closed his eyes and tried to reminisce the times when it was just him and Brendon…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 years ago

“Coffee?” Brendon called.

Spencer grunted some form of a ‘yes please’ and shuffled to the sofa. When it came to mornings, he was most definitely a Garfield.

Brendon put the mugs down on the table and nudged Spencer’s legs over so that he could sit down. Once comfortable he snuggled up to Spencer.

Spencer sighed. As much as he loved Brendon cuddling with him, he had to keep telling himself that it was just what Brendon did. It didn’t mean anything. Argh, why did he have to be that cute? More importantly, why did he have to be straight?

Brendon knew Spencer was gay. What he didn’t know was the wonderful fuzzy feeling he felt when they were together. The way his heart melted like butter every time Brendon smiled. The way his heart broke a little whenever Brendon got another date. The way that he just couldn’t help falling more in love with him every day. And for now, Spencer preferred to keep it that way.

They slurped their coffee in silence for a while. Spencer was pretty much unsociable until he’d had his caffeine to wake him up.

“Hey, Spence, can we go to the beach?!” Brendon asked, a childlike grin spread across his rosy cheeks, warm from the hot beverage. His deep brown eyes full of excitement like a little boy at Christmas.

“Sure.” Spencer smiled, feeling slightly more sociable as he finished his coffee. Besides, how could he say no to those gorgeous and hopeful eyes?

The beach was quiet. They both loved it when they had the whole beach to themselves.

Spencer whipped out a Queen beach towel and laid it down upon the golden sand. He collapsed onto it, arms raised to support his head in a position so that he could watch Brendon who was happily splashing around in the sea. Spencer chuckled as his best friend’s inner child was let loose. Just one of the many things that made Spencer love him.

He closed his eyes but was soon woken by water splattering his stomach. It can’t be raining, it’s July, Spencer thought to himself, reluctantly opening his eyes. Brendon was standing over him, beaming and dripping wet.

“Whatdoyouwant?” Spencer mumbled grumpily. Apparently the coffee had worn off already.

“Come in the water!” Brendon begged. When Spencer didn’t reply Brendon gave him a gentle kick on the shin.

“Alright, alright!” he gave in, brushing the sand off his legs. He rolled his three-quarters up a little higher and waded into the vast blue waters. Brendon splashed him and Spencer chuckled, playfully splashing back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Opening his eyes, Spencer half-hoped to still see a smiling Brendon splashing around in front of him. Unfortunately, all he saw was a very soggy dog and a rather exasperated owner. He began to walk back to the hotel, dragging his feet slightly. Being in love sucked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What’s taking him so long?

Brendon tapped his knee impatiently. Spencer had said he was just stretching his legs for a minute. Brendon was no genius but he did know that that does not take 25 minutes!

“What the hell’s up with Spence today?” Ian said, voicing Brendon’s thoughts.

He shrugged his shoulders. Seriously though, what was wrong with Spencer? He seemed really… distant.

“More like what’s been up with Spencer all week?!” Dallon corrected him, delving into an apple from the complementary fruit bowl on the table.

It was true. Spencer rarely ever spoke to any of them anymore unless it was something about the band. Every time Brendon made an attempt at conversation, Spencer would look away awkwardly and mumble a pathetic excuse to leave the room. Brendon just could not figure it out!

“I guess he’s just tired from the tour,” Ian suggested, “How are things with you and Sarah, anyway? Gotten the courage to pop the big question yet Bren?” He nudged his friend and waggled his eyebrows.

“It’s going great, I guess. I just… I need to find the right moment, that’s all.” He answered, although not entirely truthfully.

Sarah was beautiful, and kind, and smart, and honest. Pretty much all you could wish for in a girl. Yet Brendon couldn’t stop wondering whether she really was ‘the one’.

At that moment the Lobby door’s swung open, distracting him from his train of thought. Spencer had finally returned from ‘stretching his legs’.

He raced up to his friend, about to hug him but settling for a pat on the shoulder when he got a glimpse of his expression. That stormy look didn’t exactly scream ‘hug me!’ but gave off more of a back off vibe.

“Hey Spence, did you have a nice time flying to China and back?” Brendon joked. Spencer was definitely not himself as he looked confused for a few minutes. But then his face relaxed as he realised this was just Brendon’s poor attempt at humour.

He gave Brendon a weak smile and walked past him to collect his stuff.

“Are we going then?” Spencer asked, lifting his big suitcase with ease. Being a drummer really seemed to give him a lot of upper strength, Brendon realised.

“Yeah, we just need to wait for Sarah to get back from her last-minute-shopping-spree,” Brendon answered.

“Oh…” was all that Spencer could manage. Although Brendon could’ve sworn he muttered something else under his breath but he didn’t know what. He did notice, however, that Spencer wasn’t suddenly gripping his suitcase handle much tighter than necessary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After about 2 hours of vicious sawing, Spencer managed to slice off part of his meal. Plastic knives were a pointless invention, he thought to himself, trying to swallow the cardboard flavoured bangers and mash that had been placed in front of him.

“My guitar picks could cut better than this piece of junk.” Ian remarked. He appeared to be in the same situation as Spencer.

“Can I get you anything, sirs?” a young blonde airhostess asked, trying her best not to spill anything from the trolley she was wheeling.

“Just a coke please,” Dallon said without looking up. Nothing distracts Dallon from food, not even hot airhostesses.

“And some better cutlery…” Spencer heard Ian mutter under his breath. They all smirked at each other. Air hostess lady moved on and Spencer glanced across the aisle quickly, only to see Brendon and Sarah, laughing and watching the same movie but on their own individual screens. Their hands were entwined.

Spencer winced as he remembered him and Brendon giggling like schoolgirls at movies and cuddled up together. Back when it was just them. He hurriedly turned back to his so-called ‘meal’ and continued hacking at the sausage and mashed potatoes lying limply before him. He checked his watch. Five more hours until they were home. Great, he thought to himself, that’s five more hours of me feeling sorry for myself.

Spencer, Ian and Dallon all decided to kill time by playing four and a half hours worth of Uno (Dallon winning most of them, of course, as he’s Uno King).

Spencer was happily debating who had won the final Uno game when he noticed the happy couple once again and his heart sank back down to depressed mode.

“Hey guys…” Brendon called them over.

Here it comes, Spencer thought as he expected the worst, he’s done it. He asked her and she said yes. They are getting married.

“I just wanted to let you know that Sarah…” Spencer sighed and began leafing through the Kerrang magazine he’d bought, not really wanting to listen. “… is going away to see her parents again for a few months. I’ll just see her off then I’ll be back, okay?” Brendon said, his face unreadable. Spencer couldn’t tell if Brendon thought this was good news or not.

For Spencer, however, this was very good news indeed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I hope you’ve taken good care of her!”

“Yes, Mrs Orzechowski.” Brendon recited, feeling like he was back in preschool.

Sarah’s mother sat in the driver’s seat of a red Hummer. Her wispy grey hair was tied up in rollers and there was a stern look planted on her face.

Brendon had met Sarah’s family once before for Christmas dinner. They looked a bit… well, rough, but they were kind at heart.

He gave Sarah one more kiss goodbye before waving her off. As the car rounded the corner out of sight, Brendon felt an odd feeling bubbling up inside of him. It was a mixture of joy and relief…

Shane dropped by to pick them all up in the minivan. Brendon went to the back to sit next to Spencer. He was determined to find out what was troubling his friend, one way or another. And he had 3 months to do it.

“Dude, you reek!” he said. It seemed like a good way to start a conversation.

Spencer sniffed his shirt and immediately recoiled, pulling a face.

“Your face reeks.” was his reply. This was the Spencer that he knew and loved.

“Seriously, though. When did you last take a shower, man?” Brendon pinched his nose and jokingly shuffled as far away from Spencer as his seatbelt would let him.

Spencer furrowed his brow in concentration, counting on his worn fingers.

“Tuesday…?” he said, although he sounded unsure.

“Four days ago? Remind me why I’m sat next to you?!” said Brendon, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“Because you have no other friends.” said Spencer, completely failing at an attempt to be serious. They both collapsed in laughter.

Just like old times, Brendon reminisced, smiling to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 years ago

Brendon flipped the pancakes but was, as usual, unsuccessful. Pancake batter landed all over his shirt and splattered the kitchen counter.

Spencer came bounding down stairs but slowed as he took in the mess.

“Oh, you’re making pancakes. Gimme one.” he said, taking a seat at the table and tutting as he wiped muck off of the table cloth. Brendon purposefully flipped a bit more batter in his direction before sliding the pancakes onto two plates and placing them on the table.

Spencer sat there staring inquisitively at his dish for a minute.

“What is this?” he said, looking slightly horrified.

“Pancakes…” Brendon blushed as Spencer gave him a look as if to say go on. “I tried to make them into little instruments…”

Spencer twisted his plate around, trying to work out how the blobs in front of him looked anything like a musical instrument.

“It’s supposed to be a drum,” Brendon murmured, going an even deeper shade of red. Cooking was not his specialty.

“It looks more like a duck,” Spencer winked and then devoured his pancake, “Mmm… a tasty duck.”

Brendon laughed and munched on his own attempt at a guitar. It was pretty delicious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shane dropped Dallon off at his house first. His wife ran out to welcome him back, encasing him in kisses. Brendon smiled, remembering Sarah. Spencer smiled too, and Brendon wondered what he was thinking about. They waved goodbye and decided to do an Uno rematch until they reached Ian’s place.

Before long, Brendon and Spencer were thanking Shane for the lift and clambering out of the van.

Home at last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer was beaming as he unlocked the front door. 3 months alone with Brendon, he thought gleefully.

Brendon bounded up the path behind him, suitcase in hand. Once the door was opened they both collapsed on top of each other on the worn leather sofa, relieved that it wasn’t in a smelly hotel room with bad heating.

“Gerrofme…” Spencer mumbled. As much as he loved the feel of Brendon’s body against his, he did need to breathe at some point.

“Sorry.” Brendon said, shifting off of him so that Spencer’s mouth was free of elbow.

“Thanks.” he said, yawning and stretching, making sure that one of his outstretched hands whacked Brendon on the head. Brendon gave him a stern look but Spencer’s cheeky grin soon earned his forgiveness.

Brendon leapt up and began rummaging through the kitchen cupboards, trying to find something. Spencer couldn’t remember the last time they’d stocked up on provisions.

“Are we out of Lammas Bread?” Spencer said in his best Sam Gamgee impression. He was a humungous Lord of the Rings geek.

“I think you ate it all, Sam!” Brendon chuckled, trying to pull off a very bad version of Frodo Baggins. He pulled out a tin of Galaxy Hot Chocolate.

“Aha! My precious!” Brendon pranced around doing his world-renowned Gollum impression, clutching the tin close to his chest. They both fell into laughing fits as Brendon fixed them up hot chocolates (with extra marshmallows, of course) and Spencer continued making random LOTR quotes.

They sat back down on the sofa, drinks in hand, and Brendon began flicking through weird documentaries until he settled on one about Dinosaurs.

Spencer rolled his eyes and snatched the remote.

After 10 minutes of non-stop-channel-changing he managed to find Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, their favourite Harry Potter film. Because Tom Felton looks particularly hot in it, Spencer thought to himself.

Brendon snuggled up closer to him, like he always does during movies. Spencer’s heart pounded and he struggled to resist the urge to run his hand through Brendon’s soft, tousled hair. He bit his lip and settled for a casual arm-on-back-of-sofa pose.

Spencer was practically asleep by the time the movie finished. He glanced at Brendon, he seemed to be nodding off as well.

“Come on. Bed.” Spencer grumbled sleepily, nudging Brendon to check he was still awake. Brendon gave a murmured reply which Spencer couldn’t quite translate to proper English. He decided to just heave him off the sofa and half-carry, half-drag him upstairs.

There was only one bedroom in their small house, but there was enough room for two single beds, a wardrobe, and a TV. They debated having a double bed to give them more room but Spencer said he rolled around a lot so they went with the single ones. The real reason was that Spencer didn’t think he could handle sharing a bed with Brendon without holding him close every night.

They removed their clothes and climbed into their separate beds wearing nothing but their boxers. Brendon’s had dinosaurs on them.

Spencer didn’t even manage to say goodnight before falling asleep in his own comfy bed (with no itchy hotel sheets). ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Brendon woke with a start. He checked his phone for the time.

7:30am.

He groaned and rolled over to face the wall, trying to recall the strange dream which had caused him to wake so abruptly.

He had been sat in a romantic restaurant somewhere, Sarah sat opposite him. They were eating a delicious meal and laughing together, having a wonderful time. Brendon had gotten up and knelt down next to Sarah. He pulled out a ring and said:

“W-will y-y…”

Suddenly his voice disappeared. He tried to speak but nothing came out, he even tried to mime the question! Sarah misinterpreted it and just grew increasingly angrier. Her face was red and stormy; she grew taller and towered over Brendon who was now cowering on the floor. All the tables were shaking, glasses smashed around them. He thought he was done for, when the doors suddenly burst open and someone entered! His hero! And the person was… was…

Come on, Brendon thought to himself, think! Who was the hero?

It was no good. His mind had gone blank. The strangest thing about the dream was that he knew he should be considering it as a nightmare, with Sarah reacting the way she did, but he found it wasn’t actually that bad. He shook the idea out of his head. No, it was a horrible dream. He loved Sarah. At least, he thought he did.

He sighed. His head was so messed up right now. He searched his bedside table for his glasses and put them on. He pushed up off the bed and shoved on some old sweat pants before shuffling off to the bathroom.

Brendon splashed his face with ice cold water a few times, gasping at the instant shock. He stared hard at his dripping face in the mirror.

“Was that dream trying to tell me something?” he asked his reflection.

He looked terrible. His hair was greasy and sticking up in odd places. There were huge dark lines under his bloodshot eyes. He wondered what Sarah saw in him. Whatever it was, he definitely couldn’t see it.

He looked away, rubbing his eyes sleepily and deciding that a cold shower might jog his memory.

His plan was apparently unsuccessful, he realised as he stepped out of the shower. Although it had definitely woken him up. He shivered slightly and ventured back into the bedroom in search of some form of clothing.

His hanging space was on the right side of the wardrobe. Well, it was supposed to be. Brendon and Spencer tended to just wear each other’s clothes, depending on whatever took their fancy.

He was busy rummaging around in an attempt to find something near decent to wear, when he felt a cold hand briefly touch his back. He whirled around in shock to find Spencer standing there stiffly, his face emotionless.

“Your towel was, er, falling down…” he said, almost monotonously. He had a strange look in his eyes and his cheeks were pale. He looked away quickly, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Oh, thanks.” Brendon replied. He hadn’t realised that Spencer was even awake; he’d just walked straight to the wardrobe. He readjusted his towel and continued searching, but he couldn’t help wondering why Spencer had reacted in such a peculiar way. They’d seen each other naked before; when you’re in a band together it’s kind of hard not to. He decided not to dwell on it and pulled on Spencer’s ‘Owl Be there’ t-shirt which had 3 cute owls on it. It looked better on Spencer but oh well. He then yanked on the cleanest pair of jeans he could find and hacked at his hair for a bit before giving up and heading downstairs.

As he lumbered down the stairs he kind of expected Spencer to be lovingly cooking him breakfast as an apology for overreacting earlier. Instead, he found him quietly staring out of the window, sipping his coffee distantly. Brendon cleared his throat loudly.

“Oh, hey! You’re dressed!” he said, acting as if he’d just come out of some kind of trance. A fake smile was plastered on his face. It was like he was trying to pretend the towel incident hadn’t even happened. Brendon was kind of glad for this but also a bit suspicious about why he was making it out to be such a big deal.

“I’ll have some toast, please.” Brendon surprised himself by using manners. It’s not something he usually does, especially with Spencer. His friend didn’t take any notice and routinely popped four pieces of bread into the toaster.

Despite Spencer’s strangely cheery attitude, there was still an awkward silence lingering around the house.

“Are you, er, getting dressed after breakfast, then?” Brendon asked, desperate to strike up a conversation. He expected Spencer’s usual sarcastic answer of ‘No, I’m going out like this.’ followed by an eye roll.

But Spencer just looked down at his coffee-stained dressing gown and boxers combo and nodded.

Spencer turning down the perfect opportunity for sarcasm? Something was definitely wrong. They stood in silence for a minute or two. When the toast popped out of the toaster they both jumped slightly. They sat there eating breakfast quietly when Spencer furrowed his brow at Brendon.

“Hey! That’s my owl top!” he accused Brendon.

“Oh, yeah. Spencer, can I borrow your owl top?” Brendon grinned back.

Spencer rolled his eyes (apparently back to his normal self) but nodded, grinning too. The conversation sparked up again and Brendon completely forgot about his dream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer sat stiffly on his bed, staring at the wall.

“Argh,” he grunted, putting his head into his hands, annoyed at himself.

Why didn’t I just say “Hey, you should pick your towel up. It’s slipping down a bit.”, Spencer thought angrily, instead of awkwardly picking it up himself?

He threw a pillow at the wall in frustration, sighed some more, then decided he should probably get dressed.

He flung open the wardrobe doors and rifled through the assortment of clothes before him. Spencer winced as he remembered Brendon doing the exact same thing this morning, right before he decided to be an idiot. He kicked the wardrobe but instantly buckled backwards onto the bed, clutching his toe in agony.

“You alright up there, Spence?” he heard Brendon yelling from the Kitchen. He’d either heard the thud of foot-against-wood or Spencer’s toe was crying out in pain. Both seemed plausible.

“Yup.” He managed to yell back through gritted teeth. The hand clutching his foot suddenly felt warm and wet. He lifted two fingers and red liquid dropped to the floor. He was bleeding.

Great, he thought to himself.

“Actually Brendon, on second thoughts, I’m not alright!” he cried at the closed door, still wincing. He heard cupboard doors slamming, stumbling, and then footsteps coming towards him. Brendon burst through the door with a First Aid Kit, looking very alarmed.

Spencer laughed weakly. Brendon always expected the worst.

“What’s happened? Did you fall over? Did you hit your head on something? Is your head okay? Is it bleeding? How many fingers am I holding up?!” Brendon rambled worriedly, inspecting Spencer thoroughly and then holding two fingers up in front of his face. Spencer pushed them out of the way with his free hand.

“Dude! I just stubbed my toe! Chill!” he grinned despite the pain to prove to Brendon that he wasn’t dying.

It didn’t seem to make him worry any less. He began emptying the contents of the First Aid Kit onto the floor and then knelt down beside it. He worked quickly and carefully, gently rubbing a horrid burning liquid onto the cut before covering it up with a small Band-Aid which had flowers on it. Spencer raised an eyebrow at the girlish design and Brendon just winked at him. The process would’ve been a lot quicker, however, if Brendon hadn’t kept pausing every 3 seconds to check that Spencer was still conscious.

“Thanks, Bren. I’m fine now, though.” He said, but as he saw the look of genuine concern on his friend’s face he added, “Honestly, I am!”

“Okay… if you need any help, you know, getting dressed or something, just call…” he said, blushing and becoming very interested in his feet all of a sudden.

Spencer gulped.

“Erm, thanks but I think I’ll manage…” he smiled awkwardly. To be honest, he would’ve quite enjoyed Brendon helping him to dress him, sliding off his clothes gently and… no. He shook himself a bit; he did not need any of that this morning. Things were uncomfortable enough without him thinking things like that.

He grabbed the closest top he could reach without too much movement (a red one with little ducks on it) and managed to slide some jeans over his injured toe. He held a pair of socks for a minute before coming to the conclusion that he probably shouldn’t risk any more pain.  Instead, he stole a pair of Brendon’s many fluffy slippers.

He shuffled downstairs to find Brendon randomly packing a picnic basket. By now, Spencer was used to Brendon’s out-of-the-blue ideas so he didn’t think twice about it. Brendon hadn’t seemed to hear him enter and continued making sandwiches.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, casually leaning against the doorway.

“Hmm? Oh, this. We’re having a picnic.” Brendon smiled over his shoulder.

We’re having a picnic?” Spencer repeated looking down at his poorly feet, “Have you forgotten that I cannot wear socks at the moment, let alone shoes. There is no way I am leaving this house!”

“You’re not leaving this house. Well, not exactly.” Brendon chuckled and gestured towards the back door. Spencer could just about make out a red checkered blanket lying on the lawn through the blurred glass.

“A picnic in the garden? Brilliant.” Spencer beamed. He pulled open the sliding door and made his way over to the blanket. This was just what he needed to take his mind off things. Brendon plodded down next to him and placed the picnic basket down next to him.

Spencer reached into the basket but Brendon swatted his hand away as if it was a fly.

“Dude, we just had breakfast!’ he exclaimed.

“I like sandwiches…” Spencer mumbled in reply. He didn’t care what time of day it was, he wanted food.

Brendon rolled his eyes mockingly and gently kicked a football that was lying nearby.

“Best of Three?” he said, a glint in his eye.

Spencer wiggled his poorly toe.

“I guess I can manage. You’re on!” Spencer grinned, springing to his feet.

It lead on to be Best of Five, and then Best of Ten.  It was half past two when they finished. They collapsed onto the blanket, sweat beaded their foreheads.

“I... totally… won… that!” Brendon panted.

Spencer had no breath left to speak so he just shook his head weakly and delved into the picnic basket. He smiled as he pulled out a chocolate spread sandwich.

Spencer nearly hugged Brendon with glee at the sight. Inside there was also some cheese and crackers, grapes, two bottles of Mountain Dew, and two massive chocolate cupcakes. Spencer couldn’t stop grinning at this magnificent feast.

He didn’t know where to start! He took a bite out of a sandwich, popped a few grapes into his mouth, smeared cheese on a cracker before stuffing that in as well, and slurped it all down with half a bottle of Mountain Dew. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sweaty hand.

“Pig.” Brendon said, eyes crinkling as he delicately nibbled on his own sandwich.

Spencer scrunched up his nose and snorted, Brendon laughed and sprayed crumbs everywhere. He managed to get chocolate on his cheek, so Spencer leaned over and wiped it off for him. They smiled at each other as they ate.

They relaxed as they cheerfully munched on the delicious picnic. The afternoon sun beat down on them, making them feel drowsy. Spencer was nearly asleep, cupcake half eaten, when the Mexican Hat Dance suddenly began playing from within the house.

“Bren, phone.” Spencer muttered, refusing to open his eyes.

Brendon grumbled something, swore a couple of times, and then pushed himself up. Spencer heard the door slam open and Brendon’s footsteps dying away. The ringing stopped. Spencer relaxed and wondered who could be calling.

Maybe it was Ian, calling to arrange an Uno grand final?

Maybe it was Shane, coming up with another brilliant video idea?

Heck, maybe it was Ryan or Jon, calling for  a little reunion?

Maybe it was Brent? No, no. It wouldn’t be Brent. They hated each other.

Spencer’s brain hurt from the possibilities so he just shrugged them off and went back to daydreaming about Tom Felton…

Ten minutes later he heard the door open again and unwillingly opened one eye. Brendon was smiling as he sat down. Spencer immediately knew it couldn’t have been Brent that called.

“Well…?” he questioned, after a few minutes of silence.

“Well what?” Brendon replied.

“Who called?” Spencer said, propping himself up on his elbow so that Brendon could see him rolling his eyes.

“Oh. I t was just Sarah, checking to see if we were okay.” He said casually, wiping some dirt off his jeans.

Spencer felt his heart sink down his chest. He suddenly felt empty inside. Empty and ice cold. The mention of her name just reminded him of how he would never have a chance with the gorgeous man sitting next to him. He swallowed loudly. His throat had suddenly become dry. He stood up silently and walked back into the house.
Chapter Two: http://bdens-top-hat.livejournal.com/1952.html


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