So it's summer. And bro, let's face it, there is never such thing as a bad idea, just bad outcomes.
This is just one of those extremely fluffy/hawt fic involving my two favourite ghey boys: Ryan and Brendon C:
Ryan has a crystal clear memory of the sunsets on the beach during the last tour. He remembers the laughter and the way he always tried to slink back to the tour bus unnoticed, like a ghost, without anyone whooping loudly and picking him up to throw him into the surf. He never once succeeded.
He loves playing shows near the water, and he loves the way they almost always manage to find some secluded bit of beach or riverbank or whatever. Ryan thinks that maybe the reason he loves the water so much is because of the effect it has on all of them. It's completely different from spending your evening partying on a tour bus that definitely wasn't designed for all of them as well as the supporting bands, most of the security guys and roughly two hundred roadies. It's throwing people into the surf when they haven't even changed out of their stage clothes yet. It's bonfires and cheap beer and getting high and playing guitar and falling asleep in people's laps and waking up just before sunset, when the world is at its most gray and silent.
Ryan remembers every one of those nights. And he never wants another one of them.
He's pretty sure it's Spencer who comes up with the plan to go skinny dipping when they step back onto the bus after the show, 'because it's been so long since they've been near the water'. It's usually Spencer who comes up with the really crazy ideas, the ones that can't possibly end well. Because Ryan remembers the last time he suggested that, and how Brendon ended up sleeping with that girl from Lucent Dossier and how Ryan ended up making out with someone - he can't even remember who now, until he fell asleep, and just. Just, no.
"What do you mean, no?" Spencer frowns.
"I mean no. I just don't feel like it," Ryan half-explains, even though he knows it never works on Spencer. He shrugs as he flops down onto the sofa. He feels sweaty and grimy and he just really, really wants to go to sleep.
When Ryan mentions this, Spencer rolls his eyes and points out of the bus window. "There is a fucking gorgeous beach right out there. And we haven't done this in forever."
"I know," Ryan replies as he eyes Spencer intently, hoping Spence will take a hint and stop badgering him. He has his reasons, even if they might be hard to explain.
"Okay, that? Was fucking awesome," Brendon announces as he bounds onto the bus, rubbing a towel through sweat-soaked hair. "I need a shower though."
"Actually, I just suggested to Ryan that we should all go hang out on the beach, go skinny dipping maybe," Spencer says, shooting Ryan a look.
Brendon beams at them both. " Excellent thinking, Spencer, my old friend," he declares.
"- But Ryan doesn't want to."
Brendon blinks, once, and then rounds on Ryan. "Why the hell not? Come on, Ross, we haven't done this in forever." He puts his hand on his hips, big eyes focused entirely on Ryan, and for a moment Ryan is tempted to cave.
"He says he doesn't feel like it. Whatever, I'll go tell Jon and Zack, so join us outside when you're ready, okay?"
Brendon nods. "Cool. Oh, tell Jon to bring the weed. I think it's still on the Phantom Planet bus. Alex keeps stealing it," he says over his shoulder. Then he sits down next to Ryan, dumping his feet in Ryan's lap and Ryan knows, he just knows that he's not going to get away with not joining the others on the beach.
"Get your sweaty feet away from me, Brendon, you stink."
Brendon just gives him a cheerful grin. "Not gonna be a problem after we go swimming." He bats his eyelashes at Ryan. "Come on, come swimming with me, Ryan Ross. You know you want to."
Ryan glances up at Brendon, who is flashing him a dopey grin. "I'd rather not."
Brendon's face falls, a mild frown appearing instead of the constant smile. He draws his legs up to his chest so he can rest his chin on his knees, and peers at Ryan. "Okay, but why? I always thought you loved it back when we used to go down to the beach. Are you just being a moody bitch, or are you actually really tired? Because if you are, you're totally excused. Even if I played the same show you did and I'm not tired at all -"
Ryan makes a face at him. "You don't ever get tired after a show, Brendon. And I do love going to the beach, it's just."
"What?" Brendon pokes Ryan's thigh with one of his no doubt awful smelling toes.
"I remember every single thing about those nights on the beach and they were almost perfect. I don't want to try and relive it by trying to be the people we were back then. I don't want to risk tarnishing that memory," he says softly, his fingers picking at some imaginary lint on the couch. He doesn't want to look at Brendon now, doesn't want to entertain the possibility that he doesn't understand at all. Brendon isn't saying a word though, and when Ryan finally raises his head, Brendon's just staring at him.
"What?"
"That," Brendon declares solemnly, "may just be the stupidest reason I've heard you give, for anything. Ever."
Ryan makes a protesting sound, but Brendon shuts him up with a quick wave of his hand. "So, what? You're never going to do anything fun more than once, just so you don't ruin the memory of the first time?"
Ryan doesn't think that sounds nearly as dumb as Brendon is making it sound, actually. It would only ever give you new experiences, instead of repeating the narrative. He doubts Brendon would see it that way though. And so when Brendon grabs him by the hand, pulling them both up from the couch, Ryan goes willingly, like he was always going to.
Jon, Spencer and Zack are already on the beach when they get there, along with Eric, Shane, the guys from The Hush Sound and a whole bunch of crew guys. And it does feel like it did before, Ryan thinks. Just... not completely.
They light a bonfire, eat candy, play some songs and pass a joint. Or two. And maybe, Ryan thinks in the comforting haze of it all, maybe Brendon was right. Maybe some things can only get better instead of worse. It's a much better way of looking at the world around him. He'll never admit that to Brendon, though.
"I think you were right," he tells Brendon slowly, two seconds later. "About... everything."
Brendon chortles a little. "Okay, Ross is done for the night, you guys. Hey, let's go swimming!" And without waiting for anyone's answer he jumps to his feet - Ryan always wonders how apparently, not even a two-hour stadium show and two joints can make Brendon Urie sleepy - and takes off his shirt and jeans. Then, Ryan notices vaguely, he starts tugging Ryan up by his armpits. Which, what the hell. He scrambles up and stares at Brendon blearily, the light of the bonfire framing Brendon's silhouette.
"Clothes off, Ross. Come on, the water will do you some good." When Ryan shows no intention of moving, Brendon narrows his eyes in what he probably assumes is a threatening manner (Ryan thinks he just looks sort of squinty) and says, "Don't make me take off your pants for you, dude. Because I will. You know I will."
Ryan grumbles that yeah, he knows, he knows, shedding his own clothes, folding them up and putting them neatly on a rock - unlike Brendon, who just let his own garments drop wherever - because they will need them again.
"Now run!" Brendon shouts, shimmying out of his boxer briefs before tearing past him. And Ryan does the same, leaving everything behind him and just running, running, well past the point where the waves lap at his ankles and not stopping until they reach his middle and the spray hits his face. It's sort of amazing.
Then Brendon's hands are on his shoulders, pushing him under. Ryan resurfaces, cursing and coughing and laughing all at the same time while Brendon cackles maniacally.
"That's cold, motherfucker," Ryan yells over the sound of the surf. Brendon raises his eyebrows before disappearing wholly under water.
He shows up again three seconds later, his hair plastered all over his face and grinning like a lunatic. "You're right, it is cold." He turns around to see what's keeping the rest. They're too far away for Ryan to make out, but it looks like Spencer and Zack are having an animated discussion while Jon is slumped over and apparently asleep on Greta's shoulder.
Brendon turns back to Ryan and rolls his eyes. "Pussies," he announces, and splashes a handful of water in Ryan's face. Ryan smirks and retaliates.
"Ow!" Brendon's hand shoots up and reaches for his face.
"What?"
"My contact. Shit." Brendon paws at his left eye. "Fuck, that stings."
"Why did you leave your contacts in when you knew you were going swimming?"
"Because I'm not gonna wear my glasses when I go swimming! Besides, you're wearing yours."
Ryan scrunches up his nose. "Yeah, but I'm clever enough to close my eyes when there's water approaching them," he retorts. He feels pretty shitty though. He knew this would end badly, he knew it. He wades over to where Brendon is standing. "Here, let me see."
"Fuck you," Brendon mumbles, but he tilts his head back anyway so Ryan can have a look at his eye. "Shit, that salt is gonna kill me. I'm gonna go blind, Ross. You'll have a blind lead singer, and then what?"
Ryan shrugs, his hands tilting Brendon's head further back. "It's better than a mute one." Brendon lets out a soft chuckle at that, the sound vibrating its way into Ryan's fingertips. Ryan has to close his eyes for a second. "It's too dark, I can't see for shit here. Let's head back to the beach," he says quickly, gruffly. He grabs Brendon's hand, leading him back out of the water.
Brendon freezes, halting them both. "No, it'll be fine. C'mon, we have to stay. We never do this anymore!"
Ryan shakes his head. "It stopped being fun, Brendon."
He looks at Brendon's silhouette, barely visible in the light of the bonfire on the beach. His skin is glistening in the salt water, and he's looking at Ryan which something like concern, chewing his lip nervously. And even though his left hand is still frantically rubbing his eye, he looks... compelling. Beautiful, Ryan thinks.
"Okay, stop." Brendon's got his fingers curled firmly around Ryan's arm and Ryan's surprised to realize that his thumb is softly stroking the inside of Ryan's wrist. Then Brendon is tugging Ryan closer and Ryan knows what's happening before it does, but he still gasps when their mouths clash, their teeth clinking together hard.
Brendon pulls back, and Ryan can see the bonfire reflecting in wide, stricken eyes. "Shit, sorry. I sort of have no sense of depth right now. Let me try that again."
He puts his hands on either side of Ryan's face, not even wondering if he may be taking things a step too far because he's Brendon, and brings Ryan's face close to his own until their noses brush together. And it's slow, so slow, but Ryan doesn't pull away, doesn't even think of pulling away.
"Okay?" Brendon's voice is soft, barely audible over the sound of the water all around them. Ryan nods, looking at the fire that reflects in Brendon's eyes, and then Brendon kisses him again.
Brendon's lips taste like salt water and woodsmoke, and Ryan has to close his eyes the moment their lips touch and tries his best not to fall apart, because this. This is what made him try to slink back to the bus early, two summers ago, the darkness and the laughter making it too difficult not to touch Brendon, not to dig his fingertips into Brendon's shoulders the way he's doing right now.
This is what would have made those almost-perfect evenings fully perfect. And he keeps still, afraid that the slightest movement will make everything fall and shatter. Brendon is clearly from another school of thought altogether though. "Feel free to join in any time", he mumbles, and he grins against Ryan's lips before he deepens the kiss, licking his way into Ryan's mouth and sliding one hand around to rest on Ryan's neck. Ryan sighs softly into the kiss and presses himself close to Brendon, and oh.
Ryan suddenly understands why Brendon was so reluctant to come out of the water.
He pulls back slightly, out of breath and searching for Brendon's face in the darkness. Brendon's hand is going up to scratch the back of his head awkwardly. "Yeah, well. You were all up in my personal space, dude, checking my eye. And, you know," he waves his hand, "naked."
Ryan smiles into the darkness, and it's unimportant whether or not Brendon can see him, because he can reach out under water, find Brendon's waist and tug him closer.
"Oh," Brendon breathes, and Ryan can hear the smile in his voice right before he finds Brendon's mouth again, kissing him hard.
It's not like they can really be seen from the beach, it's too dark for that, but Ryan pulls them a little further down into the water just in case. He can feel Brendon shiver in his arms, muttering, "Cold..." against Ryan's lips as he wraps himself tighter around Ryan, arms clinging around his neck and one of his legs hooking itself around Ryan's waist.
There's the brush of Brendon's erection against Ryan's stomach, and Ryan groans low in his throat. He hasn't even realized how hard he is until now. Brendon chuckles, uncurling one hand from the nape of Ryan's neck and guiding it slowly under water until Ryan can feel it wrap around his cock, stroking him softly.
He bites back a moan, burying his face in the crook of Brendon's neck as Brendon's hand moves faster at a steady pace. He wants to do something,anything, but he can't do anything but grab Brendon's ass with one hand, holding him up, keeping him as close as possible, while the fingers of his other hand dig into the skin of Brendon's hip. He can't -
"Am I ruining your perfect memories?" Brendon breathes against his skin, and Ryan thinks he must be going insane because he's never wanted Brendon more than he does right now, and he didn't really think that was possible. He shakes his head fiercely, once, cursing loudly when Brendon's thumb flicks over the tip of his cock.
"You make the filthiest noises, Ross," Brendon says into his ear, sounding completely delighted. Ryan wants to slap the smug little bastard for a second, but Brendon's voice is low and sultry over the noise of the water and every syllable brands itself into Ryan's brain. He nips at Brendon's neck, and Brendon lets out a low growl that Ryan fears he could get attached to. Addicted to.
Brendon's hand moves so he can stroke both of them at the same time, his hand trapped between their bodies, their cocks sliding together. And Ryan's breath hitches, it hitches when Brendon digs his heels into Ryan's calves, when those lips of his travel down a path and suck a bruise into the skin of Ryan's neck. It makes him shudder, head to toe, and he wonders how they stopped themselves from doing this for so long. Because now, now it seems like it was always going to be, inevitable.
Brendon's hand speeds up, making them both gasp, making Ryan's fingertips press harder into Brendon's hips, their breathing becoming more and more erratic until Ryan can see Brendon's face contort, can feel his whole body still before he comes with a fierce shudder. Ryan thinks it's the most amazing thing he's ever seen and he pulls Brendon flush against him, lips crashing and tongues battling. It's almost too much and he pulls back to catch his breath, burying his face in the crook of Brendon's neck as he comes with a muffled cry.
It takes a minute for Brendon to unwrap himself from Ryan's limbs, and even when his feet are safely back on the sand, he keeps one arm around Ryan's neck, keeping him close like he's worried that Ryan might run away.
"So, did that tarnish you perfect little memories?" he asks, slightly out of breath but flashing Ryan a cocky smirk nonetheless. Ryan's still a little stunned so he just shakes his head and Brendon grins wide.
"I should fucking think not," he says, placing a wet kiss on Ryan's cheek before grabbing his hand. "Come on, let's go back before we get hypothermia. I'm fucking freezing. I can't believe you let me stay in the water this long. Jesus, Ross, I'm gonna kill you if I get pneumonia!"
Ryan looks at the back of Brendon's head, darker against the dark sky, in disbelief. "I let you?" he splutters. "Fuck you, Brendon."
Brendon turns around, wading backwards through the mild waves and grinning as he swings their joined hands back and forth. "Maybe later," he says, and Ryan's insides do a little flip.
Brendon doesn't let go of Ryan's hand when they make it back to where the rest of them are sitting, smoking, sleeping. He just clamors loudly, "Towel! Towel, now please! Your brave heroes have returned and are pretty fucking cold," waking up Jon in the process.
He grabs hold of two towels, tosses one at Ryan and that's that. Ryan sits down next to Spencer, wrapping himself in the large white towel and letting the heat from the fire warn his face until he can hardly keep himself awake. He looks at Brendon, who's shaking his head like a wet dog, and he looks at Spencer, who calls Brendon a son of a bitch for not doing that further away from him. He smiles at both of them, and tries not to worry about what this did or didn't mean.
Later, Brendon falls asleep by the fire with his head on Ryan's shoulder and his hand curled tightly around Ryan's wrist again, and Ryan thinks that yes, maybe memories can be remade and made better.
Lawlz, I know way too much for an unexpreienced straight girl.
But I love all them gheynesss. Just sayim'.
Comments are very much appreciated!
love you all c: