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Oh, Brendon! Of course I'll-

It was barely audible between my constant thoughts, like the faintest breeze on a humid summer's night. I'm surprised it even flicked its way off my tongue. "... No."

Brendon jumped up to his feet and cradled me in a hug with the largest smile known to man plastered on his chiseled face. "Thank God! I'm so happy you feel the same! I was so worried tha-" He stopped mid-sentence and dropped his grasp on my frigid frame. "Wait. Wha-?"

His arms dropped his sides and his face resembled the look of what I'd expect him to have if I had just informed him that I ran over his dog with a heavy armored battle tank.

On purpose.

He spread his fingers through his hair, already messed up from not combing it this morning, and heavily flopped down onto the seat.

"Baby, I'm sorry." I said softly, tears slowly dripping from my eyes. "You have no idea how badly I want to say 'yes'. "

He hunched over and rested his forearms on his thighs, clasped hands dangling between his legs. "Then why didn't you?"

"You wouldn't understand!" I cried, running to the bedroom.

"Raquel!" He yelled after me.

I slammed the door and dove beneath the sheets, muffling my heaving sobs in the pillow. I heard the door creak open.

"Raquel, talk to me."

"NO!"

"I'm not taking that for an answer. Not to this question and especially not the one I asked you earlier." He shimmied his way to my side and poked his body beneath the blanket. "Tell me." He commanded caringly, as he held my gaze.

"It's...It's my family."

He rolled his eyes. "It's your decision, Raquel. Not theirs."

"Explain that to my mom. Brendon, I come from a very tradition-oriented Hispanic family." I took a breath. "... and ever since Papi died it's been really difficult for my mother. She doesn't have that male figure for Marcos or that strong hand to guide us. She's all alone. I'm the oldest, Bren. She's gonna be devastated to find out her only daughter went and married a rock star on a whim."

"It's not a whim though. You said it yourself. You love me."

I kissed him. "I do, but that doesn't change the fact that you didn't get my mother's blessing. This is a big deal. Getting married is a big deal." I furrowed my brow. "How long have you been planning this? Did you even think this through?"

He let out a frustrated groan before lying fully on his back. "Thank you, Ryan Ross. Ugh, I hate when the guys are right..." He turned to face me. "Why does it matter? I want to spend my life with you. Why do I have to think it through?" He brought a fist to his chest. "I know it in my heart."

"What about your head?" I asked after I poked him lightly on the forehead. "What's it telling you?"

He smiled. "You know I never listen to my head."

"Brendon... I'm being serious."

"And I'm not." He studied my face. "Fine...I'll... I'll go and talk to your mom."

"BRENDON!" I screamed loud enough for the neighbors to hear. I pounced on him and doused his face in kisses.

He laughed and rolled me over, spilling the blanket off of us. "So, is this your way of thanking me?" He quirked his eyebrows up and down exaggeratedly.

"Why? Do you want it to be?" I leaned up and sucked at his neck before soothing it over with a kiss, traveling my hands around his abs and back.

"Mmmm... yeah." He bent down to kiss me but stopped. "Wait. On one condition." He stated lifting a finger.

"What?" I looked at him longingly. It'd been so long since we were this intimate.

"Answer my question."

"What question would that be?" I bit my lip, stifling the full-on Cheshire grin that desperately wanted to break across my face.

He grinned knowing I just wanted him to say it again. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes. Yes, Brendon Boyd Urie. Yes." I sang happily, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Good. I wanted to hear it from you this way first," he laughed sexily. "Because I know in just a little bit, you won't be saying it. You'll be screaming it." His eyes were that of dark chocolate, melting with lust. He tensed up his muscular shoulders and gave me that cute crooked smirk of his.

"Is that a threat, Mr. Urie?" I spoke calmly though my body was aching to be at his mercy. Every brush of his hand against my skin was like silk. Sheer and luxurious.

He kissed me deeply, stealing my breath away. I could taste the dominance lingering on his tongue as his mouth collided with mine. "No, that's a promise future Mrs. Urie." He growled, taking the initiative and ridding me of my shirt.

(And believe me. Brendon keeps his promises.)

We lay there in the glistening after-glow, nestled comfortably on the bed with arms and legs intertwined inexplicably. I couldn't believe I had almost forgotten how good it felt. Not just the sex, but the small details that truly go unnoticed the first time around.

The way he always keeps eye-contact, how he looks when he's body's tipping over the edge, the undulations of his back, and of course the sounds he makes. His singing voice almost doesn't compare the moans of passion that tumble from his lips when we make love.

He's perfect.

I moved over and swiped his sweat-infused bangs from his forehead. He had fallen asleep. "Brendon baby, wake up."

"Mmmn. Pete. Go away. No, I won' make ou' with yooouuu. Get Patrrrick. Nnngghh." He rolls onto his side, grumbling.

Pete? "Brendon. It's me. Get up." I shook him by his shoulders. "Get the hell up!"

He opened his eyes, dazed, blinking them a few times. "Whoa. You wouldn't believe the dream I had." He recalled, after rubbing at his tired eyes with the palms of his hands.

"Pete was trying to make out with you?"

"Yeah! How'd you know?" He spoke, shocked, watching me crawl off and away from him.

"You were talking in your sleep." I mentioned, as I put on my undergarments.

"Damn." He scratched at a spot on his stomach. "So...you're doing what now?"

"Getting dressed." I said, half-way heard, as I placed a t-shirt over my head. "Something you should be doing."

"But being naked is fun." He licked his lips. "Especially with you."

"I can't argue with that, but right now is not the time." I slid into my jeans. "You have to talk to my mom, remember?"

"I do?"

"Yes, you said you would."

"Right... I did..." He commented, catching the boxers I tossed at him.



"Brendon, you okay?"

He wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. "Y-yeah, I think so."

We walked up to the house. I pressed my finger against the door bell cautiously. It felt like hours until Marcos opened the door. He gave me a sneer and shut it in my face.

"Ma," he called from the other side of the door. "Rocky and that guy from that band is here....No, not the really skinny one. The one that has glasses... Yeah." Marcos opened the door. "She said come in."

"Thanks." I replied, rolling my eyes as I held onto Brendon's hand and drug him in the house.

"Mami!" I yelped, running to my mother's inviting arms.

She was a little taken aback by my loud actions. "Hola, Raquel."

I let go and looked at Brendon, tying to get him to initiate a greeting.

"Oh! Um... Uh...Hello Mrs. Diaz."

"Hello Brendon."

There was an awkward pause between them, so I tried to fill the void. "Hey. Panic! At The Disco is on tour right now, you know."

"Si. You told me."

"Well, uh... I went to their show here and it was really great. You would have liked it."

"No, probably not. I can't stand music these days. Solamente dibujo picturas de sexo y traicion."

"That's not true." I protested, but instantly thought of Lying Is The Most Fun...

"Pues..."

I tried to change the subject as quickly as I could before Brendon got any more uncomfortable about the fact that my mother practically spits on music of my generation. "Is it okay if Brendon stays for dinner?"

She couldn't say no if he was standing right there. "Esta bien."

"Gracias, Mami." I pecked her lightly on the cheek as she descended into the kitchen to prepare dinner. "Me and Brendon are just gonna hang out in my room until the food's done, okay?" I asked, but it wasn't much of a question.

We sat on the bed, awkwardly, the entire time my mother cooked while Marcos kept walking past making faces at us.

I tried kissing Brendon on the cheek a few times, but he'd back up or pull away, eyeing the doorway. It's as if he thought my mom would leap out and catch us or that Marcos would squeal and tattle-tale.

I had told Brendon about my mother's rules of having members of the opposite sex in your room. I actually am not supposed to have boys stay over, regardless of the fact that I am 18-years-old, but I think she trusted Brendon. That or she thought he was gay, but I doubted that.

Now, the second part of the rule was that the door had to remain open. If she saw it closed, it would cause her to think I was doing "inappropriate" things.

"Say something." I pleaded, just in time to hear my mother's voice flood through the hallway.

"Ven! Ayudame, Raquel. La mesa."

"Voy!" I called back. "C'mon Brendon. Dinner's finished."

He nodded, still in his fractured state, and followed me out of the door.

I helped my mother set the table while Marcos placed the cups down and filled them with Pineapple Kool-aid (his favorite).

We all sat, empty plates in front of us, as she portion-controlled our servings. Brendon was first.

"This smells really great, Mrs. Diaz."

My mother beamed at the compliment. "Gracias, Brendon. At least someone tells me my food is good. These ungrateful children never say a thing." She smiled.

Me and Marcos exchanged glances and rolled our eyes.

She spooned the rice onto Brendon's plate. Instantly I saw his face drop.

Oh shit/, I think to myself. I forgot that my mom loves making arroz amarillo y pollo when company's over. And most importantly, I forgot to tell her that Brendon's a vegetarian. /Way to go, Raquel.

Brendon held his faux smile until she walked behind him to Marcos. He stared at me with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry," I mouthed, shrugging sympathetically.

He rubbed his forehead and picked up his fork. He stabbed around the decorative ceramic, attempting to eat around the chicken.

"Thanks." I said, after she piled the rice onto my plate.

"Marcos!" My mother shouted after sitting down. Marcos immediately dropped his fork that had every intention of going into his mouth. "Que te pasa, hijo?"

Brendon looked around ashamed and placed the silver utensil down, unsure.

She gave my brother the eye and he extended his hands out as do my mother and I. Brendon took a second to understand before he interlaced his hand with my mother and Marcos.

"Marcos." My mother whispered..

"Uh...fine. Dear Lord. Bless this food...and uh, let us... have a good day at school and work. Amen." He added quickly before he dropped his hands and instantly picked up his fork to begin scarfing down his food.

Oh no. I forgot to mention that Brendon's an ex-Mormon. Not that that'd be easy to explain, but still...

I peer at Brendon between small bites. He looks so out of place. Poor, baby. I'm sure I've scared him off by now.

"So," my mother says after eating her fill. "Are you two going out?"

"Yes, Mami." I nod, taking a moment to smile at Brendon. "I told you that."

He glances over at Brendon. "What are your intentions with my daughter? You seem like a nice boy."

"To marry her." He said flatly.

My mother retained the most serious face after his statement.

I wish I could have documented that face for further observation later. Just to see how I'd look in twenty years. It's funny. We're mistaken for sisters 90 percent of the time, but right now, she was in full mom mode.

"What?"

"T-to marry-"

"I know what you said. I- Raquel. I need to speak to you."

"But Mami-"

"-/Ahora./"

We moved over to the living room. I could sense every bit of disappointment in her stance as she stood before me.

"What is this, Raquel? I thought this boy was the one who made you cry and now you bring him home with the intent to marry him?"

"I love him, Mami."

"Mielda. Do you really want me to believe that? You know how I feel about this and yet you do it anyway."

"What are you talking about? The fact that I know you probably wouldn't accept him, due to the fact that he's white, vegetarian, atheist and not the perfect man you had envisioned for your daughter?" I spat.

"Yes, Raquel. Why must you cause so much strain on me?"

"Strain on you? Mami, shouldn't you be worried about the fact that I can't even love anyone because they're not to your "standards"."

Every time I talked back to her felt like shards of glass piercing my stomach. It was disrespect in the highest form, but I couldn't just take her saying those things.

"Fine. Standards or not you know it won't work."

"Why? We love each other. Doesn't that count?"

"You don't know what love is."

"Sure I do. That's what me and Brendon have, that's what we share."

She sized me up with her eyes. "That's what you share? So, you're saying that-

"Yes." I said simply.

"Ay Dios mio. Raquel," she cried, placing a hand to her forehead. "Do my wishes mean nothing to you? Marriage is supposed to be special. Your virginity is to be given to your husband."

I felt like I was four-years-old being scolded for breaking the porcelain antique elephant on the coffee table. "And it has."

"I'm not hearing this." She stuck her nose up, trying to wave me off with a flick of her wrist.

"Mami, please. You have to understand. You've taught me great values and I truly do respect them. I just feel as if I am old enough to live my life, to make my own mistakes. Brendon isn't and won't be one of them. I really would like your blessing. I want to marry him." I pleaded softly.

"I can't give it to you..." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I just don't feel in my heart its right. I love you, but what you've done- what you're doing is wrong."

"Loving him is wrong?" I said, in tears, pointing at Brendon. "Loving him is wrong?"

I looked over at him, his head down. My insides felt like they were tied in intricate knots just seeing him that way.

She wouldn't answer, just mechanically shook her head regrettably.

"Let's go, Brendon." I said as I opened the door for him. He walked through and went down the steps while I spoke my mind, one last time. "I love you, Mami. I do. I'm just sorry you had to make me choose..." I realized truthfully before shutting the door.

I made it to where he was standing, waiting for me. He pulled me into a hug, as I cried the last of my tears. "I love you." He whispered into my hair.

I looked up at him. "Marry me." I remarked bluntly as I gripped his waist securely.

He grinned. "I am."

"No." I shook my head. "Right now. Let's get married right now. Tonight."

"Are you sure?" He asked, adjusting his glasses.

"I've never been so positive in my entire life."

A/N: OMG! What?! Who's not thinkin' it through now! :O

I can't believe I wrote this so quickly. Tell me what ya think (you always do).

"...just for the record cherry turnovers are better than cookies." (But not better than all of you who read/review.) Luv ya!