Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > A Catastrophe, Destined To Be

See Ryan's Underpants... On TV

by squeakyfromme 4 reviews

She tries to keep as still as possible, as if a sudden movement would pull the blankets away, leaving her sprawled out in her skivvies for all of America to see.

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst, Drama, Humor, Romance - Published: 2007-01-30 - Updated: 2007-01-31 - 1318 words

Note: HEEHEE. I'm so glad to see my last chapter had such a positive response! Thanks, again, for reviewing! Hope you like this one... it's rather long. LOL. runs off singing Spice Girls


Brendon can almost feel his heart stop as he looks from a very red Ryan to the pile of blankets covering a half-naked Saffron. Breaking the highly discomfited silence, Jon laughs and the camera crew goes into hysterics, so that leaves Brendon no other choice but to laugh along, pretending that he does not feel any sort of pain in the pit of his stomach as he sees Saffron embarrassedly poke her head out from under the comforter, her face just as flushed as Ryan's.

She ducks right back under the mess of red, black and gold fabric as Ryan asks, "The cameras are still rolling, aren't they?"

"GOOD MORNING, RYAN!" Jon yells finally, throwing his hands up in the air. "Wave at everyone back at the studio! You too, Saffron." She sticks her hand out again and waves quickly. Oh, this is quite the comical situation, Jon thinks to himself, quite bemusedly. "Are you getting all of this?" he asks the camera, giving a smirk.

Ryan is now a deep shade of crimson, wishing the floor would just swallow him right up. How could he forget? Each time they go to Manhattan, /SO XCORE/, the cheeky morning rock talk show would give them a wake up call. Given that he and Spencer were the big sleepers of the group, he should have expected it.

As she leaves Ryan to exchange slightly witty banter with the guys, Saffron remains huddled, hugging her knees to her chest. Never before in her life had she felt so damn embarrassed, so open, so naked, literally and figuratively. She has no character mask to hide behind this time around; hell, she doesn't even have clothes to hide behind. She tries to keep as still as possible, as if a sudden movement would pull the blankets away, leaving her sprawled out in her skivvies for all of America to see.

Jon and the camera crew leave to wake up Spencer, as Ryan gathers Saffron's clothes while she gathers the precious blankets around her tiny frame and shuffles towards the bathroom. He kisses her and murmurs his deepest apologies into her hair and she nods and then shakes her head, a smile gracing her dark features before she disappears into the bathroom. That smile, that same, brilliant, rare smile of hers, causes Brendon's heart to drop even further. He cannot look at her any longer, yet he cannot stop.

Ryan glances towards him and grins. "Alright, off with you, there's nothing left to see here."

God, he doesn't know, and he will never, ever admit it to him; he can't hate Ryan, especially because of some girl. Instead, Brendon returns the grin, shoving Ryan playfully before strutting away, the image of Saffron on top of his friend (fucking straddling Ryan!) embedded in his mind.


Saffron tilts her head at her reflection in the well lit mirror (it was much like those old fashioned backstage mirrors, surrounded by bare light bulbs), fluffing her hair: her slightly rumpled white blouse is buttoned to reveal a bit of the tanktop she had brought for gym class; she keeps her skirt at that slightly scandalous length (for her tastes, anyway), and rolls down her socks. She turns her head upon hearing a knock at the door, calling "Come in!"

"Sex kitten," Ryan says simply, leaning down to kiss the top of her head as he snakes his arms around her waist from behind.

Saffron snorts unattractively before glancing up at their reflection, bursting into laughter. "Sex /hair/!" she replies, points to the wild mop of asymmetrical brown hair on Ryan's head.

He grins quite widely in response to that, running a hand through it. "It's not authentic, you know," Ryan states quite seriously, raising his eyebrows at her reflection; his grin broadens as he catches the lightest of pinks flooding her cheeks.

"I'm aware," Saffron chokes out, now flushed with mortification once more.

"I- I mean, if you wanted to, you know, stop, we could have, I didn't want to push-"

"No, no, I wanted to, I really, honestly did, but now, it's just-"

"Awkward," he finishes for her, just as she turns around and kisses him as her way of telling him that they both will worry about that later.


Jon passes by Brendon's room once Ryan and Saffron leave for breakfast, quirking an eyebrow before entering and putting a friendly arm around his skinny shoulders. "Tell me, Bren, how long you've harbored this crush on her?"

Brendon tries gape at the bassist incredulously, but, for once, he can't fake it, and lets out a sigh instead. "Am I seriously that, like, transparent?"


Three o'clock rolls around and Saffron stumbles into her family's sumptuous apartment in the Central Park area, casually tossing her keys onto the marble counter in the kitchen. She slips off the pea coat she retrieved from her locker and hangs it on the back of a chair in the breakfast nook, setting her bag underneath the chair. She is blissfully unaware of the silly grin on her face as she snatches a cookie from the cooling tray, popping the whole thing into her mouth, just as her mother enters the kitchen. "'Lo, mom"

"Hello dearest!" Tall, lissome and blonde Leslie Verde looks nothing like her daughter, save for her dark eyes and the fact that Saffron has an equally lithe frame, albeit smaller. In her younger, teenage years, Mrs. Verde was a top-of-the-line runway and print model, back when she was known as L. Carraway. She has aged gracefully, Saffron had noticed the other day, after perusing her mother's old fashion magazines. Mrs. Verde begins washing her cookware, glancing over at her normally quiet daughter every so often. Something seems off; Saffron is humming pleasantly. "I've never seen you in such a good mood!"

The humming stops abruptly as Saffron flushes crimson. Saffron knows she normally would have been completely angry over the whole on-top-of-Ryan-in-her-skivvies ordeal, but the afternoon that followed made up for it. Of course, she does not tell this to her mother and shrugs her skinny shoulders simply.

Mrs. Verde removes one lemon yellow rubber glove and taps her chin thoughtfully with one manicured fingernail. "You're dating Bobby now, aren't you?" she asks excitedly.

Saffron snorts in an unattractive way she knows will make her mother flinch; it does and she smiles smugly for a moment. "Mom," she says, very seriously, in fact, "Bobby is flaming gay." She purses her lips- she can't keep this from her parents much longer, being somewhat open with them, at least about her relationships. "I'm dating someone else, out of the theatre ring." Her mother looks highly perplexed at this statement and tilts her head to once side. Before she can make anymore guesses, Saffron simply pulls out her cellphone and shows her very "pop culture hip" mother the wallpaper, featuring her snuggling up to a certain intellectual guitarist.

"Oh, honey! Him! That adorable little singer from that band you filmed a video for?"


"The guitarist? Oh, Saff, that is wonderful! When do we meet him?"

Saffron clears her throat, tempted to say, "Well, I'm sure there will be much buzz about our little hotel 'incident' so... how about a month after that?" Thankfully, she holds her tongue, smiling innocently and shrugging once more.


The band gets ready for a gig later the evening- Spencer is the first to be ready, relaxing in front of the television for a brief moment, grinning madly as he flips to VH1. "Hey, Ryan?" he calls, "guess who made it onto The Best Week Ever in his boxers?"


Note: HEEHEE. I'm a dork:
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