In a flurry of depression (and drunkenness), Spencer lets two very important secrets spill.
Last night had been a night of celebration. The boys had just won an award or other for their most recent album, Pretty. Odd. Every single one of them had a different definition of partying. The normal definition of a party is “a social gathering, as of invited guests at a private home, for conversation, refreshments, entertainment, etc.” And yet, none of them had a similar definition to the other three.
For Brendon Urie, party meant networking. If there was a chance to shmooze his way into anyone’s life, he’d do it. He’d get into the life of anyone that would help him in the industry. That was how he’d met Lady Gaga after all. He had had this bizarre celebrity crush on her. Then he met her and his ‘crush’ had died.
For Spencer Smith, it was what the actual definition was. He would rather a party at a house with only people he knew. He wasn’t the kind of guy to drink a lot. In fact, he didn’t even like alcohol. Then again, who actually likes alcohol? He’d talk to people if necessary. But he had trouble meeting new people. He was a lot shier than people thought.
For Ryan Ross, party meant getting shitfaced, no matter what. Dancing, drinking, getting down and dirty. He’d have sex with anything that had legs. It didn’t matter to him. He’d gotten and lost girlfriends faster than Kim Kardashian even had the chance to divorce her husband.
For Jon Walker, there was no true definition of a party. He’d drink, he’d play. He didn’t really care. He liked being around friends, but a party was a party. He believed in everything in moderation. That was his ideal. As long as there was moderation, he was pleased and perfectly content.
For the celebration, it was a combination of Brendon’s and Ryan’s idea of a party. They were at a bar, partying it up. Spencer wasn’t too happy about this. He didn’t want to party it up like this. He was sitting at the bar, looking around. He saw Brendon socializing with someone who looked important. He was flirting a lot. And the guy seemed to be receptive. He couldn’t get Ryan, so he was trying to get with anyone that even remotely looked like him. This guy? He had brown hair. Shaggy, like Ryan’s.
Spencer’s eyes then moved across the room and saw Ryan dancing with some girl. Was that even a girl? It was hard to tell. They had long blonde hair, but a very masculine face. It also wasn’t obvious whether or not they had breasts. Either way, Ryan seemed extremely close to this person and soon after, he started making out with him/her, wrapping his arms around him, a bottle of beer in one hand, and a cigarette in the other.
Spencer looked at the bartender, “Just give me the strongest stuff you’ve got,” he muttered, resting his elbows on the counter with his chin in his hands. The bartender raised a brow before he grabbed a cup, flipped it and poured in some liquid. He placed it in front of him. Spencer eyed the neon blue drink, trying to decide if it was as strong as he wanted it to be, “What’s in it?”
“Vodka, Rum, Tequila, Gin, Blue Curacao, and 7Up,” sounded strong enough. Spencer grabbed the straw and took a sip. Holy shit. Yeah, that was definitely strong. He would definitely be wasted after this. He didn’t like to drink, but this party was enough of a pain in the ass. He needed to be shitfaced.
After it, he felt his world start to go blurry and he looked at the bartender, “Yeah, that definitely did the trick,” he put his hand to his head, the other on the bar as he waited for the world to stop spinning. He heard the bartender ask what was on his mind. He looked at him, or one of him. The one in the middle. He hoped that was the right one, “I’m in a band with two of the biggest assholes in the world,” he slurred, “They’re both so madly in love with each other and neither knows it! It’s fucking stupid. And then Ryan is going to go and leave the band because he’s so fucking… ugh. They annoy me so much. I wish I could just leave them in a room together and be like ‘NOW KISS.’ But I can’t. Because that would be bad…” this all was said with an intense slur.
The bartender nodded, “So… You’re telling me that Brendon is in love with Ryan. And Ryan is in love with Brendon. But neither of them knows it and Ryan is going to leave the band?” yeah, that’s the short version. Spencer would nod if he wasn’t sure he’d fall over and pass out from the very small action of that. He put both hands on the bar.
“Can you tell the world to stop moving?” Spencer slurred and the bartender just laughed, “Seriously. Tell it to stop moving. And since when do you have a twin? Three twins? That’s not normal. I didn’t think it was possible to have identical quadruplets. You’re funny.”
For the remainder of the night, Spencer ended up telling anyone that came up to him what he told the bartender about Brendon and Ryan because he was really annoyed at them. By the time the party was over, it was a sure thing that everyone in the bar knew about the two of them.
So when morning came, Spencer woke up to the searing pain that shot through his entire body. A long drawn-out groan escaped his lips. Well, fuck. What happened last night? The last thing he remembered was asking the bartender for his strongest drink and then staring at the neon blue liquid for a while. And then nothing. Crap.
And then it felt like everything he had eaten in the last few days was coming up to haunt him. He scrambled out of bed, falling out in the process, on his way to the bathroom. He slipped and fell when he got into the bathroom, ending up throwing up before he even got to the toilet. When he was done, he coughed a few times, “Fuck.”
“What was that drink you had last night?” came Jon’s voice from the opening of the bathroom, “It was neon blue. Was that an Adios Mother Fucker?” yeah, Spencer had absolutely no idea what the drink was called. He just knew it was really strong, “If it was, you only had one. You’re a lightweight. It should take at least three to make someone pass out the way you did.”
Spencer slowly looked up at him, “I passed out?” he must really be a lightweight. He groaned, rubbing his forehead, “What happened last night?” he mumbled quietly, trying to keep his own voice down, as even that made his head throb.
“Well, Brendon ended up "sleeping" with the CEO of Capitol Records. Ryan slept with a transvestite who was going by the name of Divinity. I drove you all home while you were passed out in the front seat, neon blue drool coming from the side of your mouth, which by the way, you need to clean up my car,” but that didn’t explain what had actually happened. Seeing the confusion on his face, he laughed a little, “Well I doubt you did anything bad. You were just shitfaced. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Oh, and Ryan and Brendon are arguing in the kitchen. You should get some breakfast before the two of them explode,” he joked and went to leave, “You should really clean up the bathroom.”
Arguing. In the kitchen. Ryan and Brendon. And then it came rushing back with more agonizing pain. He hadn’t just told one unimportant person. No, he’d told everyone at the party about what Brendon and Ryan had told him in secrecy. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! And then Brendon and Ryan were going to find out what he’d done. And they’d both hate him forever. Well wasn’t this a dandy way to start out the beginning of their next generation of music. If they found out, the band surely would not have a third album.
A/N: So I posted this story once before, but it wasn't written very well, so I rewrote it. And I like this version so much better. It's better written and stuff. Anyway! This story idea was given to me by someone else, so I want it to be written as well as I can. I really hope you enjoy! And I guess I'm on a roll here, haha. The 'All My Stories' will be updated and everything will be pushed backward another two days cause I'm a bamf. Please rate and review! Three reviews would make me super happy!