Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco
How to Buy Ryan Ross
3 reviewsSpencer had always looked out for Ryan, especially when love was concerned. RYDON one-shot. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
1Moving
How to Buy Ryan Ross
I guess it kind of makes sense really. I mean, him and Spencer have always been close. Like brothers.
When Ryan has a nightmare at one of our infamous group sleepovers, it’s always Spencer who knows what to do and can generally guess what it’s about without forcing a petrified little Ryan to speak through his firebomb sobs that sprinkle the atmosphere like atomic bombs whenever he does have a bad dream that only Spence can wake him from. When Ry gets beaten up at school for dressing a little differently and for wearing more make-up than most of the cheerleaders, it’s always Spence he finds in order to get cleaned up. When Ry’s dad turns nasty like some sort of rabid dog in need of being put down, Spence is always the first to know and the first to offer him shelter at his place. It’s always Spence first, then me and then Jon.
That’s just how it is, how it always has been and how I always want it to be for Ryan; it’s what makes him comfortable and happy, so that’s all that I could ever want for him.
He’s know Spencer since Kindergarten, back when Ryan was about as tall as my knee and was always covered in the sticky gloop of leftover honey because that’s all he’d ever eat as a kid. Perhaps that’s why he’s so sweet.
I’ve seen the pictures that Spence keeps in his worn-out old photo album and, by God, they’re adorable! Spencer too, but Ry just looks so innocent and sweet, like that childhood teddy bear that you just can’t stand to get rid of because it’s eyes look straight into you and melt your heart on the spot. The only bad thing about those old, yellowed photographs is that Ryan’s hardly ever smiling like he means it, even in those early ones of before he could understand what his father was yelling at him or the reasons that his mom left him to rot in a house so full of hate that it makes Hell seem like Hawaii. There’s always a slight droop to his shy little smile, always an unsure spark of nervousness glowing in the back of his eyes, always a secure arm wrapped around his shoulders to make him feel safe.
An arm that always belongs to Spencer Smith, to his best friend and brother in every way other than blood.
The very same Spencer Smith who is sat opposite me at the moment at a two-seater table in the local Starbucks, a piping hot cappuccino clutched in his hands as though he half expects it to run away from him before he can have the pleasure of gulping down the precious nectar held in the large ceramic mug. He’s grinning at me like a clown on cocaine, eyes shining as though our conversation prior to this moment has ignited Catherine wheels in the back of his omnipotent head.
He lets out a short snort of laughter, his slightly scary smile telling me just how much he’s enjoying the bright red burn of my blush.
“Let me get this straight; you, Brendon Boyd Urie, King of Confidence, want my help,” he pauses to take a large slurp of his drink, chuckling so much that it’s a miracle he doesn’t choke on the scorching liquid, “with getting in Ryan Ross’ pants?”
“No! That’s not what I said at all, Spence, and you know it!” I hiss at him like a cat having it’s tail trampled on by a pair of Doc Martins; this is extremely important to me and all he can do is sit there acting like I’m the greatest comedian to ever walk the Earth.
But I think that’s the whole point, he’s trying to suss out whether I’m being serious or if I’m just messing around with Ry, with his best friend and the boy he seems to take it upon himself to protect against anything and everything that Fate throws his way. I guess I should probably feel hurt that Spencer, one of my best friends, doesn’t trust me with his most prized possession. I should do but I don’t, because I understand just how much he cares about the skinny little twig of sixteen-year-old; about the kid that he’s always guarding like a ferocious Rottweiler whenever we’re at school because he gets just how shy and introverted years of abuse has whittled Ry down to. And I respect that entirely, the fact that he’s looking out for the boy with burnt coffee coloured hair who has held my heart in his eyes for too long for it to continue without me replacing the empty ache in my chest with the beating of his own ticker.
Which is exactly why I’ve come to Spencer, to the one person who knows Ryan Ross better than I, and perhaps even Ryro himself, does. I just have to play it right or else Spence will never let me anywhere near the kid again, not to mention the black eyes that he’ll happily give to anyone who hurts or could potentially hurt Ry. That’s the surprising thing about Spence; on the outside and to his friends he looks to be (and normally is) as gentle as a teddy, but to anyone who dares to hurt his friends, especially Ryan, he can get real grizzly real quick.
I take my mug in my hands, looking down into the steaming coffee for some sort of answer or sign that will help me gain Spencer’s approval and, in an ideal world, Spencer’s help with being the right guy for Ryan. Finding no answers in the swirling blacky-brown of my overpriced drink, I huff out a sigh and turn back to my friend; to the person who’s holding the key to everything that I want. Kind of like a dragon guarding the fairy-tale princesses in those books that Ry still loves to flick through whenever he’s feeling down because, according to Spence, his mom used to read them to him all the time before she left and it makes him feel like she’s still with him. Sometimes I’ll even end up reading them to him if he sleeps over at mine and a has one of his nightmares; I don’t handle them nearly as well as Spencer does, but I always keep a copy of Thumbelina (his favourite because she’s small, just like him, and has no parents to care for her but she still turns out alright in the end) at hand ready to soothe him back to sleep in my arms.
Whenever we’re sleeping in the same house, be it mine or Spencer’s or Jon’s, or watch a scary movie we always end up in the same position. A position that makes Jon tease us and Spencer smile at us like some sort of proud father seeing his children finally managing to ride a two-wheeler without crashing into a wall. I always end up with a chest-full of Ryan Ross, his head resting lazily against my chest and legs swung over my thighs so that he’s sat on my lap, one of arms wrapped gently around his waist whilst the other snakes around his neck so that my hand can stroke his cheek. When we watch movies this sort of thing is fine, but when we’re at a sleepover it gets sort of awkward, especially if we fall asleep like it and wake up with him curled into me and my body encasing his tiny one completely. But it makes him happy, which is all that really matters. And that, in turn, must mean that he likes me, right? That he trusts me enough to maybe want to love me as much as I love him?
I hope so.
I really fucking do.
“Hey, Bren. Earth to Urie, Urie do you read me?”
Before I can register the words, I’m snapped out of my thoughts by a small sachet of brown sugar bouncing off of my nose and back onto the table, reminding me who I’m here with and why I’m here with that person as opposed to aforementioned person’s top priority.
“Sorry, I just kinda spaced out.” I smile at him sheepishly, praying that he hasn’t misinterpreted my lack of attention to him as a reflection of how deeply I care about Ryan. He nods at me to continue and I relax at once, grateful that he hasn’t immediately written me off as a lost cause. “But back to the point, I want to date Ryan. And I need your help.”
The atmosphere shifts to match the change in his eyes; from relaxed and friendly to serious and business like. My heart starts hammering viciously against my chest, feeling like it’s bashing into my lungs and cutting off my air supply in it’s frantic nervousness. I’ve never been this nervous with just talking straight to Ry, but this is a different kettle of fish entirely, this is the conversation that could either win me an angel or cost me a friend.
Spencer looks directly at me, no longer interested in the coffee that seemed to be capturing his attention for the past ten minutes, and the look he gives me is almost scary; he’s still the same old friendly Spence, but there’s something threatening lurking behind his irises that makes me want to run and hide in the restroom through fear of unleashing the protective side of him that has made even the biggest bullies at school cower away in fear.
He gives me a curt nod, a silent agreement between the two of us that means we both know that the game is on and that he understands precisely why he’s been dragged to Starbucks at ten o’clock on a Saturday morning.
“Why should I help you?”
I loll back in my chair and let my hands grip at the knees of my frayed jeans anxiously in thought, my mind working overtime to analyse what he wants from me. The question may have sounded slightly cold and more than slightly cynical but that’s alright because I understand why. After what happened with Ryan’s first boyfriend, an older kid called Pete Something who turned out to be quite the heartbreaker, Spencer’s been putting any and all who want to date him through the same test; all of them deciding that Ryan isn’t worth the effort, some even outright admitting to Spencer’s harsh gaze that they just wanted to date Ry because one of the popular kids had dared them to do it for a laugh.
“I’ve known Ry for over four years and I know him almost as well as you do, Spence. I can see that he’s gorgeous in every way possible and I want to help him see it too, I want to hold him when he cries and when he smiles. I want to make him smile.” The words come pouring out my mouth like the lyrics come pouring out of Ryan’s fountain pen whenever someone slides a piece of paper in front of him and I can’t help but feel pleased with myself for being, if I’m honest, so spontaneously brilliant. No, I’m not brilliant; Ryan is and my plea was just pure honesty birthed by that very brilliance. “I want him.”
I feel a bead of sweat drip down my forehead at Spencer’s scrutinizing stare that makes me squirm anxiously in the hard wooden chair and avert my eyes back to my beloved drink. The guy is just like a really strict teacher being forced to do detention duty on the brightest day of summer.
“You can’t have him.” Spencer snaps at me after a few seconds of silence, his voice taking on an almost disappointed tone, like he really wanted me to be perfect for Ryan.
My heart plummets down through my stomach, leaving nothing but a bloody mess where my insides once were because without Spencer’s approval there’s no way that I’ll ever get my Ryan.
Hang on.
That’s just it, isn’t it?
Spencer’s speaking literally, explaining it to me and not saying ‘no’ at all. He’s waiting to see if I get it, to see if I can crack the puzzle and beat his test. To see if I deserve a shot with Ryan. Not at owning Ryan, but at loving Ryan. That’s what I think he wants me to get; we’ve been speaking about Ry like he’s some sort of possession, not a stunning individual with a heartbeat and pulse that I want to make race with adulated joy.
I snap my head back up and fix Spence with my most defiant look; my turn to grin now.
“I know I can’t. He, however, can have me should he want me.” I pause in thought as Spence’s lips melt into a soft smile of approval. “I don’t want to own him, he’s a person and not a thing, I just want to love him and make him feel as loved as he deserves to. I want him to know that he has me.”
Spencer reaches a hand across the table, fingers outstretched and smile threatening to burst clean off of his face like a firework. I grab his hand and we shake like two businessmen sealing the deal of the century.
“God, Urie, you’re so stupid!” He exclaims loudly as he reclaims his hand, that same proud-father glint in his eyes that he gets whenever I let Ry snuggle into me.
“Huh?”
“Ry’s been in love with you for months, you’re all he ever talks about. Idiot.”
Simultaneously, as though on cue, we both burst into light-hearted laughter. Laughter that has a much deeper meaning to it than celebration and two friends joking around; it means that we can both be truly happy because we both know that Ryan’s got someone good to love now.
He’s got me.
A/N: Thank you very much for reading, I hope that this is okay. I’m not too sure about this, so I’m really sorry if it’s terrible. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :)
I guess it kind of makes sense really. I mean, him and Spencer have always been close. Like brothers.
When Ryan has a nightmare at one of our infamous group sleepovers, it’s always Spencer who knows what to do and can generally guess what it’s about without forcing a petrified little Ryan to speak through his firebomb sobs that sprinkle the atmosphere like atomic bombs whenever he does have a bad dream that only Spence can wake him from. When Ry gets beaten up at school for dressing a little differently and for wearing more make-up than most of the cheerleaders, it’s always Spence he finds in order to get cleaned up. When Ry’s dad turns nasty like some sort of rabid dog in need of being put down, Spence is always the first to know and the first to offer him shelter at his place. It’s always Spence first, then me and then Jon.
That’s just how it is, how it always has been and how I always want it to be for Ryan; it’s what makes him comfortable and happy, so that’s all that I could ever want for him.
He’s know Spencer since Kindergarten, back when Ryan was about as tall as my knee and was always covered in the sticky gloop of leftover honey because that’s all he’d ever eat as a kid. Perhaps that’s why he’s so sweet.
I’ve seen the pictures that Spence keeps in his worn-out old photo album and, by God, they’re adorable! Spencer too, but Ry just looks so innocent and sweet, like that childhood teddy bear that you just can’t stand to get rid of because it’s eyes look straight into you and melt your heart on the spot. The only bad thing about those old, yellowed photographs is that Ryan’s hardly ever smiling like he means it, even in those early ones of before he could understand what his father was yelling at him or the reasons that his mom left him to rot in a house so full of hate that it makes Hell seem like Hawaii. There’s always a slight droop to his shy little smile, always an unsure spark of nervousness glowing in the back of his eyes, always a secure arm wrapped around his shoulders to make him feel safe.
An arm that always belongs to Spencer Smith, to his best friend and brother in every way other than blood.
The very same Spencer Smith who is sat opposite me at the moment at a two-seater table in the local Starbucks, a piping hot cappuccino clutched in his hands as though he half expects it to run away from him before he can have the pleasure of gulping down the precious nectar held in the large ceramic mug. He’s grinning at me like a clown on cocaine, eyes shining as though our conversation prior to this moment has ignited Catherine wheels in the back of his omnipotent head.
He lets out a short snort of laughter, his slightly scary smile telling me just how much he’s enjoying the bright red burn of my blush.
“Let me get this straight; you, Brendon Boyd Urie, King of Confidence, want my help,” he pauses to take a large slurp of his drink, chuckling so much that it’s a miracle he doesn’t choke on the scorching liquid, “with getting in Ryan Ross’ pants?”
“No! That’s not what I said at all, Spence, and you know it!” I hiss at him like a cat having it’s tail trampled on by a pair of Doc Martins; this is extremely important to me and all he can do is sit there acting like I’m the greatest comedian to ever walk the Earth.
But I think that’s the whole point, he’s trying to suss out whether I’m being serious or if I’m just messing around with Ry, with his best friend and the boy he seems to take it upon himself to protect against anything and everything that Fate throws his way. I guess I should probably feel hurt that Spencer, one of my best friends, doesn’t trust me with his most prized possession. I should do but I don’t, because I understand just how much he cares about the skinny little twig of sixteen-year-old; about the kid that he’s always guarding like a ferocious Rottweiler whenever we’re at school because he gets just how shy and introverted years of abuse has whittled Ry down to. And I respect that entirely, the fact that he’s looking out for the boy with burnt coffee coloured hair who has held my heart in his eyes for too long for it to continue without me replacing the empty ache in my chest with the beating of his own ticker.
Which is exactly why I’ve come to Spencer, to the one person who knows Ryan Ross better than I, and perhaps even Ryro himself, does. I just have to play it right or else Spence will never let me anywhere near the kid again, not to mention the black eyes that he’ll happily give to anyone who hurts or could potentially hurt Ry. That’s the surprising thing about Spence; on the outside and to his friends he looks to be (and normally is) as gentle as a teddy, but to anyone who dares to hurt his friends, especially Ryan, he can get real grizzly real quick.
I take my mug in my hands, looking down into the steaming coffee for some sort of answer or sign that will help me gain Spencer’s approval and, in an ideal world, Spencer’s help with being the right guy for Ryan. Finding no answers in the swirling blacky-brown of my overpriced drink, I huff out a sigh and turn back to my friend; to the person who’s holding the key to everything that I want. Kind of like a dragon guarding the fairy-tale princesses in those books that Ry still loves to flick through whenever he’s feeling down because, according to Spence, his mom used to read them to him all the time before she left and it makes him feel like she’s still with him. Sometimes I’ll even end up reading them to him if he sleeps over at mine and a has one of his nightmares; I don’t handle them nearly as well as Spencer does, but I always keep a copy of Thumbelina (his favourite because she’s small, just like him, and has no parents to care for her but she still turns out alright in the end) at hand ready to soothe him back to sleep in my arms.
Whenever we’re sleeping in the same house, be it mine or Spencer’s or Jon’s, or watch a scary movie we always end up in the same position. A position that makes Jon tease us and Spencer smile at us like some sort of proud father seeing his children finally managing to ride a two-wheeler without crashing into a wall. I always end up with a chest-full of Ryan Ross, his head resting lazily against my chest and legs swung over my thighs so that he’s sat on my lap, one of arms wrapped gently around his waist whilst the other snakes around his neck so that my hand can stroke his cheek. When we watch movies this sort of thing is fine, but when we’re at a sleepover it gets sort of awkward, especially if we fall asleep like it and wake up with him curled into me and my body encasing his tiny one completely. But it makes him happy, which is all that really matters. And that, in turn, must mean that he likes me, right? That he trusts me enough to maybe want to love me as much as I love him?
I hope so.
I really fucking do.
“Hey, Bren. Earth to Urie, Urie do you read me?”
Before I can register the words, I’m snapped out of my thoughts by a small sachet of brown sugar bouncing off of my nose and back onto the table, reminding me who I’m here with and why I’m here with that person as opposed to aforementioned person’s top priority.
“Sorry, I just kinda spaced out.” I smile at him sheepishly, praying that he hasn’t misinterpreted my lack of attention to him as a reflection of how deeply I care about Ryan. He nods at me to continue and I relax at once, grateful that he hasn’t immediately written me off as a lost cause. “But back to the point, I want to date Ryan. And I need your help.”
The atmosphere shifts to match the change in his eyes; from relaxed and friendly to serious and business like. My heart starts hammering viciously against my chest, feeling like it’s bashing into my lungs and cutting off my air supply in it’s frantic nervousness. I’ve never been this nervous with just talking straight to Ry, but this is a different kettle of fish entirely, this is the conversation that could either win me an angel or cost me a friend.
Spencer looks directly at me, no longer interested in the coffee that seemed to be capturing his attention for the past ten minutes, and the look he gives me is almost scary; he’s still the same old friendly Spence, but there’s something threatening lurking behind his irises that makes me want to run and hide in the restroom through fear of unleashing the protective side of him that has made even the biggest bullies at school cower away in fear.
He gives me a curt nod, a silent agreement between the two of us that means we both know that the game is on and that he understands precisely why he’s been dragged to Starbucks at ten o’clock on a Saturday morning.
“Why should I help you?”
I loll back in my chair and let my hands grip at the knees of my frayed jeans anxiously in thought, my mind working overtime to analyse what he wants from me. The question may have sounded slightly cold and more than slightly cynical but that’s alright because I understand why. After what happened with Ryan’s first boyfriend, an older kid called Pete Something who turned out to be quite the heartbreaker, Spencer’s been putting any and all who want to date him through the same test; all of them deciding that Ryan isn’t worth the effort, some even outright admitting to Spencer’s harsh gaze that they just wanted to date Ry because one of the popular kids had dared them to do it for a laugh.
“I’ve known Ry for over four years and I know him almost as well as you do, Spence. I can see that he’s gorgeous in every way possible and I want to help him see it too, I want to hold him when he cries and when he smiles. I want to make him smile.” The words come pouring out my mouth like the lyrics come pouring out of Ryan’s fountain pen whenever someone slides a piece of paper in front of him and I can’t help but feel pleased with myself for being, if I’m honest, so spontaneously brilliant. No, I’m not brilliant; Ryan is and my plea was just pure honesty birthed by that very brilliance. “I want him.”
I feel a bead of sweat drip down my forehead at Spencer’s scrutinizing stare that makes me squirm anxiously in the hard wooden chair and avert my eyes back to my beloved drink. The guy is just like a really strict teacher being forced to do detention duty on the brightest day of summer.
“You can’t have him.” Spencer snaps at me after a few seconds of silence, his voice taking on an almost disappointed tone, like he really wanted me to be perfect for Ryan.
My heart plummets down through my stomach, leaving nothing but a bloody mess where my insides once were because without Spencer’s approval there’s no way that I’ll ever get my Ryan.
Hang on.
That’s just it, isn’t it?
Spencer’s speaking literally, explaining it to me and not saying ‘no’ at all. He’s waiting to see if I get it, to see if I can crack the puzzle and beat his test. To see if I deserve a shot with Ryan. Not at owning Ryan, but at loving Ryan. That’s what I think he wants me to get; we’ve been speaking about Ry like he’s some sort of possession, not a stunning individual with a heartbeat and pulse that I want to make race with adulated joy.
I snap my head back up and fix Spence with my most defiant look; my turn to grin now.
“I know I can’t. He, however, can have me should he want me.” I pause in thought as Spence’s lips melt into a soft smile of approval. “I don’t want to own him, he’s a person and not a thing, I just want to love him and make him feel as loved as he deserves to. I want him to know that he has me.”
Spencer reaches a hand across the table, fingers outstretched and smile threatening to burst clean off of his face like a firework. I grab his hand and we shake like two businessmen sealing the deal of the century.
“God, Urie, you’re so stupid!” He exclaims loudly as he reclaims his hand, that same proud-father glint in his eyes that he gets whenever I let Ry snuggle into me.
“Huh?”
“Ry’s been in love with you for months, you’re all he ever talks about. Idiot.”
Simultaneously, as though on cue, we both burst into light-hearted laughter. Laughter that has a much deeper meaning to it than celebration and two friends joking around; it means that we can both be truly happy because we both know that Ryan’s got someone good to love now.
He’s got me.
A/N: Thank you very much for reading, I hope that this is okay. I’m not too sure about this, so I’m really sorry if it’s terrible. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :)
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