FicWad

When in Jersey





“Frankie, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

I turn to give a sideways smile to the older man sat next to me on the couch, the dark circles under his eyes from hours of driving doing nothing to mar his beauty in any conceivable way.

“This is Brendon Urie. I met him in Vegas last week.”

Frank immediately springs forward in his dad’s armchair, reaching out a hyperactive paw to viciously shake my husband’s elegant hand. Not that my best friend knows exactly whose hand he is shaking just yet. Perhaps the tables will turn when he does, just like they did the split second Gee found out I’d tied the knot whilst we were on holiday.

I honestly don’t see what the big issue is. Brendon found me sitting alone, bought me a drink, we fell in love and then we got married, all in the same, magical night. Most people have to wait years for the drink-buying to amount to falling in love enough to actually get married. I would have thought Gee would be pleased for me, proud even, but no; he’s still mad about it now. Mad enough to not have talked to me at all since we got back from Vegas other than to cuss me out over things I haven’t even done.

Maybe I could just about understand his disapproval, at a push, but actually being mad enough with me to purposefully ignore me? That’s just childish. And it makes no fucking sense. Not in the slightest.

All I did was get married. Anyone would think I’d shot Billie Joe Armstrong, the way Gee’s going on. But then again, he’s always been a bit of a drama queen. Never with me though and never to the point of being nasty.

At least Gerard hasn’t told Mom and Dad yet, though. I think that might largely be because he’s afraid of what they’ll do to him, not because he respects that I don’t want them knowing yet. It’s not that I’m ashamed or embaressed of what I did with Brendon, far from it, but I just can’t see my parents being as ecstatic about all this as I am. As I thought my big brother would be for me.

“Good to finally meet you, Man. You’re all Mikes has yammered on about since he got back.” Frankie stops to smirk at the blush his teasing words have painted onto my face before letting it melt away into a proper, sincere grin. “About time Mikey Mouse finally got some.”

Thankfully, Brendon does have a sense of humour and so erupts into volcanic guffaws, the heavenly noise rumbling through him enthusiastically enough for me to be able to feel it from where I’m snuggled against his chest.

God, I’ve missed his chest.

We’ve only been apart for little under a week, but I still miss it. Now that I’m embedded into it I don’t know how I ever survived without it nor without all the memories that Brenny and I managed to make together during my time in Vegas. He took me to see all the sights; took me out to ‘show me off’ to all his awesome friends, who have since become mine too; he sang to me as we watched the sun go down every night and he got me drunk a fair bit too, which has done absolutely nothing to improve Gee’s opinion of him.

Not that we care. Not as long as we have each other.

“Oh, yes. He’s definitely getting some, don’t you worry about that.” Brendon winks at me, making my blush burn even more ferociously as he and Frankie cackle like a pair of old hags on halloween. “Aw, isn’t he the cutest?”

This time his tone is not mocking, but genuine; he genuinely is paying me a compliment in front of someone else, and making it sound like he’s proud to have me under his arm. Which he is. I know he is and it doesn’t surprise me anymore because I know exactly how it feels to be proud of holding another person’s heart in your hands.

Brenny leans down and presses his lips against mine in what is supposed to be a chaste peck of the lips. Supposed to be but isn’t because, the second his lips make contact with mine, some unwritten law comes into play that says Brendon has to completely eat my face whenever his mouth is anywhere near it. Not that I mind. Not at all.

Far from it.

I start kissing back, what was once a somewhat awkward affair for me now feeling nothing but natural, and he locks his arms tightly around my waist so that I’m pulled even further into him. That’s the thing I like the most about kissing my husband; he doesn’t just kiss my lips, he kisses my entire fucking body. He snuggles and he cuddles and he strokes, not just kisses.

In short; he does everything that I like, which is precisely why he does it.

“Um, Brendon? Please don’t eat my best friend.”

It takes less than a nanosecond for me to pull away, my face redder than ever, but I still stay nestled into Brendon’s chest like a baby koala clinging onto it’s mother. He’s still got his eyes washing over me, my smile in particular, and I’m glad he does. If he didn’t, the moment would be ruined by a sight of Frankie fake-gagging in the background.

I turn to face Frank, seeing a faint glimmer of pride behind his usual gaze, and offer him an apologetic kind of smile. After all, I know from experience what it’s like to be sat there watching your bestest buddy make out with some stranger on a couch. Which is largely why I don’t really feel sorry in the slightest.

Just very, very nervous. Because I’m about to tell Frankie the news that cost me my brother. The news that will make him look at me in an entirely different light, even if it shouldn’t.

Brendon and I swap glances, Brenny squeezing my hand in an act of loving encouragement, before I nod to him so that he knows what’s coming. So that he knows to get ready to run should Frank decide to punch him. And kick him. And bite him.

Like Gee did.

“Uh… Frankie?” Frank just nods, rolling his eyes at my ever-present awkwardness. “Brendon and I have got something we need to tell you.”

“Holy shit.” I wince at the tone of his voice. “You’re pregnant?”

“N-no! We-“

“That’s good. You’re far too young to be a mother, Michael.”

“Hey!” Brendon snaps over the giggles, sensing that I’m far too anxious to be seeing the funny side to all of this. “Mikey’s trying to say something here, something that’s pretty hard for him to say. So stop acting like a dick.”

I nuzzle my face into his neck by way of thanks before turning back to Frank, who looks like he’s just been slapped around the face with a raw fish. This is another thing I love about Brendon; he doesn’t let anyone get away with making me feel anything less than content.

Just like with this one guy back in Vegas, he kept grabbing my ass in one of the clubs Brenny took me to as part of our ‘mini honeymoon’. Every time this guy, around thirty years older than me by my reckoning, grabbed at me I squealed a little and then the guy laughed. I didn’t say anything though, just got on with trying not to lose my husband amidst the wealth of dancers. But then Brenny went to the restroom, leaving me all alone in a room full of people who don’t care about geeky underage boys. Apart from this one guy did, and he had me pressed up against the wall before I could do anything about it, asking how much it’d be for an hour. Thankfully Brendon came out by the time the guy, drunk off his face, was getting angry. And boy, did Brenny blow his top. Let’s just say I don’t think the guy will be walking properly until next Easter at best.

Or ever having kids.

“Sorry, Mikey. What is that you’ve got to say?”

I swallow past the fear, fixing my eyes to the hand clamping softly onto my own, and ready myself to either ruin my life, or make it into something even better than what it is.

“Brendon’s not just my boyfriend. He’s… he’s my husband.” Frankie just gawps, words for once eluding him, and I take advantage of this by trying to put my explanation into some sort of order. “We got married in Vegas, the same night we met.” I stop, realising how that must sound. “It wasn’t some drunken mistake, though!”

Frank raises his eyebrows at my desperate shout, but other than that does nothing by the way of reacting to the news that his seventeen-year-old best friend came back from his holiday with a husband. A seriously hot husband, at that.

“It was love at first sight. Wasn’t it, Baby?” Brendon purrs, filling in the silence that I’m now too panicked to fill myself. I just about manage a nod, not once taking my stare away from my barely-breathing best friend. “So it looks like you’ll have to get used to me eating your best friend, as you so put it.”

All of a sudden Frank shakes his head as though snapping himself out of something or other, and places a hand firmly on my knee. His expression is serious, business-like, and I know at once that he’s about to address me; not Brendon, just me. I rarely ever see Frankie being serious so right now, with him looking like a coroner, I’m shitting myself.

I can’t lose two best friends over Brendon. I just can’t. They’re meant to understand.

“He makes you happy? And he treats you right?”

I nod my response, my head bobbing up and down so fast that it’s a miracle it doesn’t fly clean off my neck. A neck that’s coated in the hickies Brenny’s been giving me since his arrival in New Jersey at five o’clock this morning.

Frank cracks a huge beam, pulling us into a group hug over the cluttered coffee table.

“Then that’s more than enough for me.”








A/N: So here it is; a second, concluding part to ‘When in Vegas’. Sorry if it isn’t as good as the first part (which wasn’t that good itself), but I hope you liked it! Thanks for reading and a massive thank you to everyone who turned the first part green! :D