FicWad

[A/N] To my dearest readers- I'm terribly sorry for taking such a long time to put up another chapter. I have no legitimate excuse, because I'm sure me being a slacker and having a minor case of writers block doesn't count.
Also, thanks to those who left sweet reviews: SomeoneIveNeverMet, Freya_x, XxIceCreamHeadachexX, Life_is_42, and sillyperson. Thank you so much. Reviews make it all worthwhile.
Onward!




Chapter Three: In Exchange For Your Time, I Give You This Smile


The persistent sun still shone through the darkening masses of clouds around it. Taking careful steps along where the water met the land, they walked together, arm in arm at a leisurely pace as Brendon casually nodded his head in response to Abigail's words. "The rule of the beach is," Abigail explained, kicking off her flats, "that you don't wear shoes. Ever. Sand doesn't like shoes, and shoes don't have a fondness for sand either. So it's our job to keep them away from each other. Like flip flops? They have a beef with the sand. That's why most of them break on the beach. So the easiest thing to do is go barefoot and carry your shosies."

"Oh," Brendon said, confused but still complied with her rule, and held onto his flip flops as they walked along the water. "I had no idea."

"Most people don't. It's a secret, really. And anyway, it's more fun to walk barefoot, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it is." Brendon agreed. "Where exactly are you taking me?"

"I'm not entirely sure at the moment, but I have a feeling that we should be going this way."

"Alright then..."

"What time is it? Like 10?" Abigail asked, stopping for a moment.

"About. Almost." Brendon answered.

"Great. Come on, then." Abigail said, taking Brendon's wrist and pulling him behind her. "I hope we're not late."

"Late for what?" Brendon wanted to know as he tried desperately to wriggle out of Abigail's tight grasp.

"You'll see. Walk a little faster, please."

Brendon huffed, rolling his eyes. "Fine," he said, picking up the pace of his feet by just a little bit.

Abigail led them to the edges of an almost empty marina, and sat down at the end of a floating loading dock. "Sit down," she said to Brendon, patting a spot next to her. "We haven't missed it."

"I don't appreciate your cryptic behavior," Brendon pouted, cautiously sitting down next to her.

"It's a sailboat race. They're going to start soon," Abigail told him, dipping her bare feet in the water below them. "The whole thing is quite extensive. There aren't any engines or anything so it's all pretty slow paced. I thought we'd watch the start of it."

"That's cool. Do you sail?" Brendon asked, looking at her. He was curious: what was he doing with this girl he hardly knew? Who was she?

"Sometimes. When I have the patience to, that is. Me and my brother used to sail all the time."

"What does he do now?"

"He's away a lot. He's in the military. It turned him into quite the serious man. He used to be a goofball. Now he doesn't slouch. It's weird."

Brendon considered her words for a moment. "That is weird. How your job can change you, I mean." Brendon thought of himself. He could be making smoothies right now, or studying cosmetology. He could even be in the family business of land surveying.

"It is, isn't it? It's almost fascinating, how someone can adapt in that way," Abigail trailed, looking into the horizon.

"What about you?"

"Me? No, I don't really work," she shrugged.

"Not really? What do you do for a living?"

"My family owns a lot of real estate here and there, along the coast. Like in southern California. We rent them out to people. Especially over the summer. I just handle all of that and such," Abigail said, still staring off to where the water met the sky. "It works out pretty well. I can go places and travel at my leisure."

Brendon nodded. "That must be nice."

"It is. What kind of work do you do?" Abigail turned to look at him.

Squirming, Brendon ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Normally, Brendon would love to tell any other girl that he was the dead sexy ex-Mormon lead vocalist for the sensation that was ultimately known as Panic at the Disco. Truth be told, he lived to bask in the adoration of near-groupies that thought he was the best thing since sliced bread. But Abigail, Brendon thought, sweet and down to earth Abigail would not be too impressed with his rocker, live-on-the-road lifestyle. Brendon wondered how such a good thing like his band could become the very source of his insecurities. "Well," he started. But as if someone or something were on his side, the horn signaling the start of the race blared through the air, giving Brendon a great excuse to brush off the question and to blurt out a hurried, "Oh look, it's started!"

Abigail looked quizzically at Brendon's sudden nervousness but disregarded it and turned her attention to the masses sailboats that started to move outwards, away from the marina. They watched in a casual silence until the last lone boat floated out of their sight. "You know what?" Abigail said, out of nowhere. "I want to take out a boat. What do you think?"



Brendon was impressed, he had to admit. Not only was Abigail beautiful, entertaining, and just a little bit twisted, but she was smart. She didn't need someone to do things for her; if she wanted to take out her boat, she could do it by herself. Brendon himself could barely drive a car without causing any unfortunate passengers (such as Ryan) to fear for their life. With Abigail at the wheel, Brendon felt completely safe.

"I was thinking to go around the area once and back. Sound good?" Abigail wanted to know, craning her neck to see Brendon, who was staring uneasily at the water below his spot at the bow of the boat, which was dubbed the "Quick and Easy" by Abigail. Her explanation for its title was "I thought it would be funny. Most people would think I was trying to provoke dirty thoughts. I could have been thinking about cake mix for all they know!"

"Definitely..." Brendon said, still looking uncomfortably at the water.

"Hey Bren," Abigail said, slowing down the speed of the vessel. She patted the seat next to her. "You don't look too good. Come sit over here with me." Brendon then walked over, and settled himself in the seat Abigail suggested, sitting cross-legged and observing her actions. "Tell me about yourself," she said simply.

"Um, my name is Brendon Boyd Urie and I'm 21. I'm from Vegas and love music. That's pretty much it."

She raised her eyebrows. "What do you do there? Deal craps?"

Brendon shrugged. "I don't know. Not much, I guess. Hang out, landscape my yard, that sort of stuff. Vegas isn't all that fun."

"Do you pat yourself to landscape your yard or is it got charity?" Abigail joked. She stopped the boat and dropped the anchor.

"Oh, well. I'm sort of a musician. I'm in a band," Brendon said, squirming in his seat.

"Are you any good?"

"We're decent."

"Is there any chance of me hearing this "decent" music you claim to make?" Abigail probed.

"Possibly," Brendon responded cryptically.



Hopping off of their boat and onto the dock, Brendon held out his arms in an attempt to steady himself. "I feel wobbly!" He whined.

They had spent a good amount of time offshore, and by the time they returned, it was a proper hour to eat lunch. While out on the water, Brendon and Abigail learned a great deal about each other, and busied themselves by cracking senseless jokes and laughing uncontrollably.

"That was amazing, by the way. Thank you," Brendon said when he regained his balance.

"You're welcome. It was fun! I had no idea that counting to three sounded so much tougher in German!" Abigail exclaimed.

"I know! Just saying it makes me feel like I should have enormous muscles!" Brendon said to her, flexing his arms. "Where to now?" He asked, straightening himself out. "Lunch? Dessert? A movie?"

"I'm feeling ice cream. And Chinese takeout. In that order." Abigail said, mischievously. "Screw this gloomy weather. We shall fight the cold with cold!"


The jingling sound of the bell on the door leading into the ice cream parlor sounded as Brendon and Abigail walked inside, bubbling with energy. The place was practically empty, save for a few people on their way out of the store, leaving Brendon and Abigail with a seemingly endless supply of ice cream and a young employee who looked terrified to be left alone with people who looked like they had the ability to fly through the roof. Conveniently placed on the counter before the unfortunate employee was a little sign that read, "Curious? Try a free sample! Just ask." Seeing this sign, Brendon turned to Abigail and winked at her, before turning to the employee. His name tag read, "Hi, my name is Brian."

Producing a growl from the back of his throat, Brendon spoke in a deep voice, saying, "Hey, Brian. Do you think you could hook us up with a sample of all 47 flavors of ice cream and sorbet this fine establishment has to offer? My lady friend here is uh, 'picky', if you know what I mean," Brendon raised his eyebrows and patted Abigail's shoulder.

Brian furrowed his brow and frowned, looking unsure about what Brendon could have meant, but managed to stutter out a "Sure..." before handing Brendon samples of every ridiculous flavor of ice cream in the freezer. After downing every sample cup of ice cream that was handed to him, Brendon cleared his throat.

"I think the choice is clear. I' m a simple man," he said, turning to Abigail. "And I enjoy simple things," he said, now turning his gaze to the terrified Brian. "Like puppies. Warm puppies with soft velvet noses and their cute floppy ears. Don't you love puppies, Brian?"

"Yes...?"

"Wonderful! With that said, I think my choice is obvious, isn't it?"

"Of course..." Brian answered uneasily.

"So it's decided. Vanilla, please."

"Would you like a cup or cone?" Brian asked him, wincing, almost regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

"Is the cup edible?" Brendon wanted to know, his eyes growing wide.

Brian looked like he wanted to cry. "I can give you a cone in a cup."

"EXCELLENT!"


Together, they walked the short distance to the nearby Chinese restaurant, enjoying each other's company. Brendon tried as best as he could to casually steal spoonfuls of Abigail's strawberry ice cream. "I like strawberry."

Abigail laughed at him. "Me too."

"Abby..." Brendon started, grabbing her hand. "Can we please trade? Please?"

"Brendon, no. You spent at least 20 minutes terrorizing that poor boy just to order vanilla, and now you don't want it?" Abigail said, acting shocked.

"Yes." Brendon declared, decisively.

"No."

"But," Brendon looked at her with puppy dog eyes that he thought were irresistible.

Abigail found herself looking directly into his big beautiful eyes. They were a lovely shade of dark brown, and to her, Brendon had the warmest gaze she had ever seen. Soon, she heard herself telling him, "Fine, yes. You can have mine."

"THANK YOU!" Brendon yelled, engulfing her in the ultimate side hug.

"Yeah, yeah," Abigail muttered in an attempt to hide her blushing cheeks.

"No, I mean it! Lunch is my treat."

"Whatever steams your broccoli, Brendon."

They soon arrived at the restaurant, and Abigail decided to let Brendon order, with the promise that he would try to act normal. She watched him at the counter from her seat by the door, charming the employees with his infectious personality as he insisted that their food be put in the "little white and red food containers, please" when the server tried putting their food in a regular Styrofoam box. Reluctantly, Abigail felt herself falling for this attractive young man that seemed to have just appeared in her life. "Coincidence or more than that?" she wondered to herself, genuinely unsure of what to make of Brendon. They were so alike in more ways than one. Her previous relationships always crumbled down to the same problem: she was too difficult to understand, and no one could ever keep up with forever-on-the-move, spontaneous Abigail. Brendon however, seemed immune to her obvious character flaw. In the short time that they had known each other, not once did she see doubt or insecurity in Brendon's face. It was as if they were on the same page, all of the time, as if they were one in the same. "Nonsense," Abigail thought to herself, disregarding any inkling, however minuscule, that they were meant to be. She knew herself rather well, she'd like to think, and knew that she needed to be careful, especially around someone she had an even minor interest in. Too many times had she been lead on. "But maybe," she thought, as Brendon came her way with an obscene amount of Chinese take out, and a beaming smile on his face, "Maybe he's different."






[A/N] (Once again) Please take the time out of your busy schedules to leave me a little bit of feedback. I think this chapter can be viewed as more or less of a filler. Regardless, I'd love to see what you think, so please review! :]