FicWad

Ryan doesn't worry about the thing with Brendon because, well, really, it isn't a thing. They were camping, with a large group of boring and unattractive people and simply did what teenagers do best; sex- except, it wasn't real sex and it isn't a real thing. He does think about it though, the morning before their first day back at school after the trip; he wonders whether or not Brendon, the slimy, squirmy little shit that he is, will say something about it, or worse, act as if they're in item.

No, he isn't that stupid, surely.

Second period sees the boys interacting for the first time in almost a month. Brendon starts it- quite typically and Ryan thinks it's perhaps out of sexual frustration. For some reason and he's not quite sure why, he kind of, sort of, maybe, might be feeling the same way. Brendon kicks Ryan's seat away from him as he's about to sit; landing flat on his ass and biting his tongue in the process. He thinks about gritting his teeth and being the bigger person, (He's already noted that he is, in fact, the bigger person, physically and frankly, he's looking forward to Brendon saying something vile, so he can reply with something similar to "just because you have a small dick...") But on further thought, not flipping out and tearing Brendon a new one would seem unusual and that would be much more suspicious than simply letting it go. He stumbles to his feet; brushing dust from the backs of his jeans and grumbling something abusive Brendon's way, before launching his full body at him and pushing him from his own chair. The legs of the chair scrape over the flooring, loud and high pitched, attracting everyone's attention. And then suddenly, there is a large group of silent students, surrounding Brendon and Ryan as they struggle on the ground; grunting and growling and wrestling.

*

Brendon's washing the blood from his lip; it's gushing at quite some velocity. The bathroom is empty, except from him, so when Ryan walks through the door and pushes a heavy trash can against it, he doesn't bother with formalities; he simply lunges towards Ryan and pushes him to the ground.

"You fucker, look what you did!" He screams and Ryan simply smiles.

"Aw, poor baby. Want me to kiss it better do you?" He struggles upwards and to his feet, unfazed and bemused. Brendon swallows hard before he pushes himself up from the sticky tiled floor. He watches skeptically, as Ryan runs a paper towel under a sink and stares at himself in the mirror while he does so. He then, turns to see Brendon, walks the two of them backwards to the wall and pins Brendon up against it. He daps at the blood on Brendon's lips, pawing at his chest and suddenly, looking almost loving- well, from what Brendon can tell, that's what he figures.

"There." He says, staring into Brendon's dark eyes and getting a little lost. Their breathing clashes as they meet in the small space between their lips and mixes, before sinking away around them. "You can shut the fuck up about that now."

There's a small moment where the two both really, really want to lean in to each other; kiss harsh and deep and passionate and gritty, but they don't. They just stare at each other, angry and confused. They don't say anything else, because Ryan simply slinks out of the space and through the door. Brendon doesn't quite know what to do; he's semi-hard and starting to think, maybe, he might just have feelings for this skinny ass son of a bitch.

*

Brendon was really looking forward to an early night after work on Friday, but as it drew closer to eight, his phone started to ring and he grumbled something incomprehensible, out of instinct. He hadn't wanted to answer it; whoever was calling was using an unknown number and frankly, if they didn't want him to know who they were, he had no time for what they were going to say, but, Brendon remembered his sister once using an unknown number to call him in an emergency. Now, he's listening to the sound of breathing down the other end of the phone. Eventually, a voice speaks up.

"Can I come over?"

"No. No you can't, Ryan, why are you calling me?" Brendon snaps, turning over on his mattress and hitting his arm unintentionally on the floor beside him. He thinks for a moment about why he gave Ryan his number and wonders if he had any other choice.

*


On the last night of the camping trip, Ryan, Spencer and Jon had gotten pretty damn wasted in Spencer and Jon's tent and Ryan had crawled- very noisily, though it didn't wake Brendon up; what woke Brendon was an uneven humming of an old Nirvana song from Ryan’s drunken lips- back into his tent very early the next morning. Instead of making for his own sleeping bag, he stumbled towards Brendon's and, without invading the covers around him, draped himself over Brendon's body; his leg thrown over Brendon's hip and his arm perfectly similar to Brendon's.

"Brendon?" He whispered, except it was more of a quiet talking voice than a whisper. "You awake?"

"No." Brendon lied, staying completely still and regrettably comfortable with Ryan spooning him.

"Ha, liar. You are awake! Turn round."

So Brendon did, only to be greeted by a smug grin. Ryan didn't bother moving his limbs from over Brendon because they were feeling heavier than usual to him and he was in no state to care who he was lying with. Brendon didn't bother freeing himself because he was comfortable, which was okay, because he’d persuaded his mind that the sleeping bag between them meant that it had no romantic value; it would only mean something if they were cuddling under a blanket together. They certainly wouldn't be doing that any time soon if Brendon could help it. Ryan stole Brendon's lip between his teeth and sucked a little harder than he had intended to, but a little softer than he’d done before, before pulling his lips from Brendon's face and sliding closer towards him. He began to kiss his neck and moaned and mumbled drunken words- well, they could possibly be words, but it was equally as possible that they were not- against Brendon's skin, as he inched closer with each wet sound.

"Oh, Brendon." Ryan managed, fumbling with pieces of Brendon's hair and licking his lips close to Brendon's ear. "Fuck me." He sort of commanded, before rolling back from the sleeping bag and watching Brendon's face shrink into an obvious no. He turned away from Ryan and tried to ignore the sounds of his sleeping bag being unzipped.

"Please? Brendon, seriously." Ryan continued, moving into the almost space left behind Brendon’s back and rubbing his nose against Brendon's shoulder, in a sort of Eskimo kiss. "Fuck me Brendon."

"No, Ryan, don't be daft." Brendon laughed. He would never admit it, but he wished that all of their arguments would be more like this and a little less like the one they'd had that morning about his apparent snoring waking Ryan up. "I am not going to do that!" He chuckled, as Ryan held Brendon's arm and planted wet kisses along it until his lips found Brendon's hand and guided him onto his back. He pushed his leg between Brendon's and asked him again.

"No, Ryan!" Brendon said, trying to be assertive and ignore the fact that Ryan had begun making filthy sounds in his ear and stroking his chest. His hands wandered downwards to Brendon's boxers before Brendon tried a second tactic.

"Ryan, I've already fucked you." He smiled and Ryan pouted.

"No, Brendon, not with your hands stupid. With this." He replied, squeezing Brendon in an explanatory way. Brendon squealed, quietly; he hadn't expected the wild groping, or rather he had, but felt that there should have been more warning prior to it, so the less than masculine squeal was perfectly justified thank you very much.

"We- we can't." Brendon stuttered; trying to think of a reason not to fuck Ryan's brains out and finding very little reassurance. "We don't have any condoms."

"So?!" Ryan almost sounded angry and Brendon wondered why Ryan's voice so gruff and aggressive, made him that little bit harder. "You don't need to worry about STDs unless you've had unprotected sex with people with them and I know for a fact you haven't. Neither have I, so we're both fine, unless you've got aids and if you do, you've probably given that to me anyway because you drank my blood the other day, you vampire freak you." He was slurring and making absolutely no sense, but Brendon could do nothing other than laugh.

"Okay, okay, fine. Not tonight though, another time; tomorrow."

"No, we're leaving tomorrow! Fuck me now. Please?" He elongated the last letter of the final word and Brendon really wanted to just give in.

"Fine, I'll give you my mobile number and you can call me sometime and I promise I'll fuck you okay?"

They shook on this agreement and Brendon laughed himself to sleep, whereas Ryan simply passed out with his hand cupping himself and his mouth open like a dog.

*

Now, Brendon's really not in the mood and doesn't want to have to deal with foreplay and fingers and kisses and the words and Ryan; he really is not in the mood for Ryan. He tells Ryan that he can't come over and in fact, how does Ryan even know where to be coming to? Ryan sighs and tells him okay, sounding sadder than usual. Brendon shrugs it off and falls asleep.

Ryan, however, really needed to see Brendon. He needed a distraction from the chaos that had taken place minutes before. He could have called Spencer but he didn't, because Spencer would want to talk about it, or phone someone, or have a "sit down, grown up conversation about it all." He felt so vulnerable already- even before picking up his cell phone- but phoning Brendon again, to admit that he needs the distraction and maybe to be forced into explaining why, would make things a thousand times worse, so he shuts his mobile off and hugs his knees, flinching when tears sting the bruise forming under his eye already. He thinks about tidying up the glass and furniture and mess, but he's weak and bruised all over and he's sure his shirt is ripped and he knows his knuckles are burst on both hands.

When his father returns, they'll probably pick it up where they left off though, so Ryan thinks to himself that he really ought to tidy up and go for a drive somewhere.