Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco

Four Broke Guys From Nevada

by Ninja-on-the-run 0 reviews

Full summary inside. AU. After Ryan Ross and his best friends move to LA, they realize that they are getting nowhere. Broke and having nowhere to go, they realize that in order to achieve their own...

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama,Humor - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2013-02-15 - Updated: 2013-02-15 - 1867 words

Summary: In hopes of fulfilling his dream of owning a successful record store, Ryan Ross and his closest friends move to Los Angeles, California fresh out of high school. When things seemed to be going according to plan, reality soon catches up to them and they realize they are getting nowhere. Broke and having nowhere to go, they realize that in order to achieve their own connected dreams, they need a job.

And that job happens to be at Wal-Mart.

Based on this tumblr post:

*Bear with me, first ever Panic fanfic and I haven't written first person POV in a long time**

Multi-Bandom story, no pairings, crossover with many other bands.

I don't own Panic! At the Disco and Wal-Mart.



My name is Ryan Ross.

You might not know exactly who I am, and I understand. To be honest, I don't know who I currently am either. A jumble of things. But I don't have to know my true self to know my current status.


I thought it was going to be easy. Graduate high school, go to college, move to Los Angeles and own a record store. It felt like a solid dream to follow and a good pretty path way in life. Sure, my parents were not cool with it. In fact, most of the adults around me felt the same way. They

And looking back, I should have listened to them. It would have relieved me of a lot of stress and Californian heat.

But you know the sense of freedom when you hit the magical 18. My parents had no more control over my life. I could live the life I chose the way I wanted to. I had freedom. I was free. I could live my own life.

So I did it. I decided to live my own life.

Three weeks after the end of high school, I packed up my bags and made my way to L.A, the city of dreams. I had everything planned out. Before I left, I already had my own car, so transportation was taken care of. Working two jobs payed off in the end. A sweet used but perfect black 1995 Mustang. I had already found a place to live.

As odd as it sounds, college wasn’t a major priority for me right now and it could wait. I was barely figuring my life out.

But boy I was wrong.

I discovered that too late. And by too late, it was three days after packing up and moving to California.

It was the moment when life slapped me in the face and said “I told you so!”

Sounds absolutely ridiculous, but it was the hardcore honest truth. I’m not the only one seeing life doing that, right?

…..Okay, maybe I am.

To anyone else, it was kind of funny how I realized this. I was unpacking a box and I noticed that we were taking shifts to sleep on the couch, the only thing that we called a bed in the apartment. Then the fact that our only drinks came from the vending machine around the corner tagged along with it. Then I remembered the AC busted last night and the maintenance man was on vacation. Which meant we had to deal with the Californian summer heat. And said heat can rival a Las Vegas summer. And those summers are almost as hot as the Sahara.

A lot of little things popped in also. Rent, bills, no groceries, crappy refrigerator, a stuffy apartment, no ice in the freezer and a second hand fan that turned off every four minutes as our only source of cool.

And to top the icing of the cake, let’s not forget being jobless.

When all of that came into my mind in a rush, I just fell on my knees and said “I am so fucked.” and started crying in the middle of the stuffy living room.

In that moment, I acknowledged all the mistakes I’ve made in life. Every decision I made leading up the present appeared. This wasn’t fiction. This was real. This was my life, the life I chose to live the way I wanted. And it was all my fault.

Realizing and accepting your mistakes is a lot to take in at 18.

But I wasn't alone when I realized my mistake. I had three wingmen that went along with me.

Then again, maybe wingmen wasn't the correct term. They were more like best friends that have driven each other, and me, over the wall, down Yellow Brick Road, through the mountains, down the sea and picked each other up but still stuck together. Somehow, we relied on each other but were different in many levels.

Back in school, when I told them of my dream in the 9th grade, they agreed to go with me. And yeah, it caught me by surprise completely. They each had their own goal and they decided to have it also set in Los Angeles.

They stood by my side in school, and stood by my side three weeks ago to this day. And instead of deciding to move back Las Vegas, we vowed to make it in the real world. We vowed that someday I will own a successful record store. We vowed a decision in that old stuffy living room.

But to get to that goal required steps. And the first step was to get a job.

So we tried to achieve the first step.

Which brings us to today.....

We sat around the makeshift dining table in the living room of the apartment. It was scorching hot in Los Angeles, so we had the windows open, which didn’t help much.

We should be used to this weather by now, us being Nevada natives and all.

Hell, we should be used to worse.

But under the current circumstances, having lemonades bought from the vending machines around the corner as your only drink and a second hand fan that turned off every four minutes as a source of cool made the weather feel much more worse than it was.

Anyway, there we were. Sweaty, hot, tired and unemployed as we stared down at four stapled packets.

“Let’s face it.....We’re broke,” said Jon Walker.

He was the oldest one among us, turning 20 last month. And apparently, a very ambitious person. He went to all kinds of places to find a job. Walgreens, gas stations, Home Depot and one time, a Mexican supermarket. He didn’t succeed, but managed to get a good deal on some tortillas that were pretty awesome. He had to retake the 5th grade which turned out to be the hardest grade you will ever endure.

“No, we just like sitting on the floor with cardboard tables,” Brendon Urie rolled his eyes across from me. He was fanning himself with a piece of newspaper, trying to keep the heat away, but failing. Stuffy air=stuffy self. Simple math. His long dark hair was a major disadvantage to the Californian weather. The humidity made it was stick to his forehead with sweat and heat.

When we realized how bad the weather was here, we tried to get him to cut it at least a little bit, just to lessen the torture of summer for him.

But nooooooo, Mr. Urie wanted to keep it that way because it was his style. We tried to make his life easier. It was our failed attempt in helping a brother out.

Well, at least he accepted the sunscreen we offered him. With sunburns, it never goes well with Brendon. Or anyone really.

“Well goddammit Urie. What a way to ruin my opening statement,” said Jon sarcastically.

“This isn’t a debate, Jon. It’s just really fucking hot.”

Brendon was irritating lately. But we understand him, kinda. You know what heat does to you. It makes you cranky, tired and more prone to have a short temper. And so does being jobless.

Don’t get us wrong. We tried looking for jobs, we really did. But apparently, so were a lot of much more experienced people that had better chances at employment than four guys that barely graduated high school from Las Vegas, Nevada.

“Can we just cut to the chase?” I asked with a sigh.

The heat was making us get on each others nerves.

Good thing we didn’t live in a one bedroom apartment or else we would have killed each other a looooooong time ago.

“As you may all know, we are unemployed,” said Jon, clearing his throat.

Brendon was about to make a snarky comment, but Jon cut him off.

“Shut it B, this is revenge for my statement. Anyway, I went to Kroger in hope of finding a job. But they didn’t need anymore help so I left and went to 7 Eleven to get a slushie and I ran into this guy. He was buying some gum. There was a long line and we started talking about the the weather, traffic, life and stuff.”

“Then you gave him your number,” smirked Spencer Smith, who was sitting to my right.

That earned a small chuckle around the table, including me.

“No, Spencer. No. Don’t you even try. I am willing to lock you out for the rest of the day in the heat and not let you in till August.”

“Sorry, I had to do that,” snickered Spencer.

Spencer was probably the only one taking the situation under control. Four for you Spence. You go Spence. No matter how bad the situation was, he always managed to crack a joke, just to relieve the tension. And it always made us chuckle, even if it was directed at us.

“Apology accepted, for the moment. He asked me what I worked in and I said that I was unemployed. Then I told him about you us being jobless. And turns out that he’s a manager of the Wal-Mart a few blocks from here and is looking for employees.”

“I have a question,” said Brendon.


“Why didn’t you share some of the slushie with me?”

“Because of reasons, Brendon. Reasons.”

Wanting to avoid another debate, I motioned Brendon to be quiet. “What’s the guy’s name?” I asked.

“His name is Pete Wentz and on my way back, we stopped by his office and got some applications,” he motioned the packets on the boxes. “And guess what? We don’t need experience. Only dedication, diploma, hospitable personality and willingness to help out other people.”

Spencer caught on. “Soooo we have a chance of getting a job?” he asked excitedly.

“Hell yeah!”

We all cheered, the heat and busted AC forgotten.

“Yes...” I mumbled a small cheer with a grin.

Finally. An open chance of getting a job. Finally.

“I told you, Ry,” Brendon squeezed my shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess you were right,” I replied, still smiling.

Well, life was lucky with us today.

Needles to say, things began looking up for four broke guys from Nevada.

A/N: Well, thanks for reading! Rate and Review please!
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