Ryan hears of a rumor and gets pissed. Then he hears the truth and slides into what we all know of as: denial.
For the past year or so, Ryan’s entire MO changed. He’d figured out that there was no use in pining after Brendon Urie. It would never be mutual. Not to mention, he was really pathetic. So to make up for this, he decided to get over it by partying as hard as he could and sleeping with everyone that could walk on two feet. He would drink a lot. But it never got so bad that he wouldn’t be able to remember what happened.
Every night was like déjà vu. The routine never changed. The only thing that did change was the person he went home with. It was mostly guys though. It was mostly guys that looked like Brendon. No one caught on though. To everyone else, it wasn’t that obvious. Besides, every single guy had a characteristic of Brendon, but otherwise didn’t look anything like him. It was either the defined cheekbones or the jaw line, or maybe even the way his body curved.
The routine went a little something like this:
”I’ll be back sometime in the morning,” Ryan gave a wave of the hand and walked out of the bus/hotel/apartment. The guys were all used to this. It was no surprise. So none of them paid any mind as he left. It was just part of the daily routine.
He made his way down the street to some dive bar that he hadn’t explored yet (as if that was possible) and snuck in. He went to the bar and sat down, “Long Island Iced Tea. Make it strong,” the bartender nodded. Either that, or the bartender would already know his drink. Either way—The bartender slid the drink down to him and he caught it easily. He slid his card over, “Keep it open,” and got off the stool.
He scanned the room once, twice, three times. If there was no one that even remotely looked like Brendon, he’d leave. But there was always someone. It could be as small as the same dimples as Brendon and it’d be enough to satisfy him. But if the male had nothing, not even the same hair color, it wasn’t worth it. But this night, he found someone. He went over and whispered in his ear, “Hey there sexy.”
And the male melted. It was obvious. Ryan had gotten good at this. The male turned toward him and the two started to dance. Ryan made suggestive gestures all night. Whether it was a caress down the arm, moving a little closer, putting his hand on the male’s ass. It was all a part of his game. But he made sure the other guy knew what he was getting himself into. This was nothing more than a fling.
After a few more drinks, Ryan would then wrap his arms around him and kiss him. As long, passionate, and hard as he could. And the male would most likely react the way he wanted them to. It was hard not to, considering the charm Ryan had acquired over the time in which he’d been doing this. But this guy, Ryan wasn’t sure what it was that was like Brendon, but there was something. He figured he’d find out soon enough.
As they pulled away from the kiss, he grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the bar, “So what’s your name?”
“Brandon,” and there was the similarity. Good enough. If he yelled Brendon during sex, he wouldn’t be accountable for anything. Ryan simply grinned and pulled him toward a hotel. The male stopped him, “We can go back to my place. It’s cheaper than a hotel.”
Ryan turned toward him and shook his head, “See, if I go to your place, I might have to stay longer than I want,” and he didn’t care how bad that sounded. Brandon obliged. He followed him to the hotel. Once inside, the nasty stuff happened. And Ryan was pleased. As soon as it was over, Brandon wanted to cuddle, but Ryan always insisted otherwise. He’d push him off and get off the bed.
Right now, in his mind, he was trying to decide if he should go out again or just go back to the guys. He caught a look at the clock and decided it was time to head back. It was 1 am after all. He put on his clothes and walked out. He didn’t care if the other wanted him to stay. It wasn’t his call. It was Ryan’s. He didn’t leave a number, he didn’t even say ‘Let’s keep in touch.’ He didn’t care.
Back to the guys he’d go. And he wouldn’t be quiet about his entrance either.
Tonight was no different. They were back in Vegas before they’d get together to start on their third album. Ryan wasn’t into it though. He didn’t want to do a third album with these guys. He was tired of it. He was tired of everything. He wanted to leave. But he didn’t know how to do it. He didn’t know what he could say or do. The only person that knew, as far as he thought, was Spencer. And he’d hoped it would stay that way.
“Long Island Iced Tea?” the bartender asked as he already began to make it. Ryan nodded at that and the drink was slid over the marble. He caught it and took a sip. He then put his car down and the bartender knew. Ryan stood and scanned the room, as usual. His eyes landed on an exact replica of Brendon. Now that, that was perfect placement.
So he walked over to him, “Hey there sexual,” and the male turned around. So he had a derp face, but that was fine. He didn’t care. He’d just imagine he had a better face. The male shook his head and Ryan was taken aback, “May I ask why?”
“Well I’m not picking up Brendon Urie’s sloppy seconds,” he gave him a weak smile. Sloppy seconds? How the hell was Ryan Brendon’s sloppy seconds? At the look, the male continued, “I heard through the grapevine that you and Brendon had something and that he broke it off because you didn’t love him enough.” Wait, wait, hold the brakes. WHAT?
“What? Who the hell told you that? I’ve never been with Brendon Urie. Nor will I ever.”
“Well this girl told me that some guy told her that Spencer told him that Brendon’s still got the hots for you after the whole relationship.”
“Brendon and I… No. That’s bullshit. Brendon doesn’t like me. He’d never like me. Now shut up and dance with me.”
“Sorry, not taking Brendon’s sloppy seconds,” and he walked away.
“Fuck this,” Ryan muttered and went to the bar. He slammed down his glass, “Give me tequila shots. And keep them coming,” he muttered. The bartender looked surprised at that, but he did as he was told. After that, it was all a blur. Ryan couldn’t remember anything that had happened.
And when he woke up in the morning to a transvestite, a rather large guy, and a girl in bed with him, he was really confused. Then again, who wouldn’t be? None of the three of them even remotely looked like Brendon. And then he remembered what the Brendon lookalike had told him the night before. Sloppy seconds. Sloppy seconds. That’s all he was, according to people, according to everyone that had talked to whoever it was that Spencer talked to. Spencer.
He climbed over the three people in bed with him and pulled on his clothes. He stormed out of there in a fury. Spencer was going to pay. That asshole told these people something that wasn’t true and so no one was going to willingly sleep with him unless they either 1) didn’t know who he was, 2) were a transvestite or 3) were THAT horny.
He made his way down to the sidewalk and made his way to the house they were staying at. The four of them were staying at a house together to save on money and so none of them HAD to see their parents (not that Ryan had any to see, but he did need somewhere to stay, so it was a convenience for him). He shoved open the door and stood his ground, “SPENCER JAMES SMITH! GET YOUR FUCKING ASS DOWN HERE… NOWWWWWW!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.
Brendon’s head peaked out from the corridor and he just stared at Ryan who was standing there, fuming. Brendon rubbed his forehead and walked down the stairs, “Ryan, what’s wrong?”
“Did you know that Spencer fucking Smith is spreading rumors that you and I were together? Can you believe that? It’s fucking… UGH! SPENCER, GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!”
“Whoa, Ryan, calm down. It’s just a rumor. I doubt he spread it. If anything, he could have said something that someone just took the wrong way. Keep a cool head. Everything will be fine. If anything, someone else spread it and said that Spencer did and then there’s a rumor that Spencer spread a rumor. Don’t wake everyone in the house up. Now come on,” he turned to go toward the kitchen.
Spencer finally emerged in the corridor and came down the stairs, groggy as fuck. He looked at Ryan, who was still obviously fuming (even though the anger has subsided quite a bit) and he immediately wanted to run back up the stairs and climb into his covers. He might have found out that he let it spill that Ryan wanted to leave the band. This was bad. So very, very bad, “What?” he murmured in a half-awake voice.
“What the HELL did you tell people? I went to flirt with a guy last night and he says to me ‘I don’t want Brendon Urie’s sloppy seconds.’ SLOPPY SECONDS?! What the fuck, Spencer? He told me that someone told him that someone said that you told someone that Brendon and I used to be in a relationship. I couldn’t get anyone to fucking sleep with me because of that!”
Spencer just stared at him. Well, at least it hadn’t hit Ryan that he let slip that he was going to leave the band. I mean, sure, it wasn’t good that someone had taken the fact that Brendon was madly in love with Ryan and twisted it into something that obviously pissed Ryan off. But it was still better than the truth being told. Spencer just shifted his weight from one foot to the other, “I didn’t say that,” which was true, “I never told anyone you two used to be in a relationship.”
“So I should just chalk it up to rumors?”
He grumbled something under his breath and stalked into the kitchen. He sat across from Brendon and looked down at the woodgrain finish of the table. He hated that someone spread that rumor. He trusted Spencer. Spencer wouldn’t spill a rumor like that, especially when it wasn’t true. Besides, in order for them to have been in a relationship, they both would have needed to like each other, at least a little. And it was so painfully obvious that Brendon didn’t like him.
That night, Ryan didn’t even say good bye. He just left. Everyone knew the drill anyway. He sat down at the bar and just stared at the marble finish. No one wanted him, no one would have to have him. The bartender came over, “You look like someone just slaughtered your puppy…” when Ryan didn’t respond, the bartender leaned over to look him in the face, “Is Hobo okay?”
Ryan couldn’t help but chuckle a little, “Yeah, Hobo’s fine. Someone just spread a rumor that Brendon and I used to be in a relationship and they’re pushing it all on Spencer, saying that he told it. And Spencer said he never said that.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. But Spencer did tell people that Brendon liked you, which I don’t know how true that is, considering he was pretty much trashed. So I can see where the rumor came from, but I do know that that’s what Spencer said.”
Ryan just stared at him. Brendon liked him? What kind of bullshit is that? He shook his head, “That’s bullshit. Brendon doesn’t like me. If Brendon liked me, he’d do something about it. He wouldn’t be marrying that Sarah bitch.”
“I only know what I heard.”
He sighed, “Just give me my usual. And put extra tequila and vodka in there. I need it strong.”
“Gotcha,” he mixed it up and slid it over to him. Ryan slid over his card and walked off, drink in hand. Brendon didn’t like him. There was no way in hell that he’d like him. Never. Brendon wouldn’t be marrying Sarah Obitchski. Okay, so he was holding a bit of a grudge for the woman, but could you really blame him?
A/N: I'm vaguely amused that no Panic! played the entire time I was writing this, but it The Ballad of Mona Lisa plays as soon as I wrote the last line. And it's like Brendon's saying 'NO. I DO LOVE YOU.' Don't know why. Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Please rate and review! :)