Work Text:
Brendon didn’t really have an explanation on why he was ditching tall, handsome, best friend Ryan for pint-sized child Ryan on a daily basis for the past week, he just knew that it kept happening. Ryan Ross, normal-sized, would come up to him and Brendon would busy himself with the director, with Spencer or Jon, with helping mini-Bren act more like him, or, more often, with discussing Ryan Ross with his tiny doppelganger.
The kid, Cameron Boyce, was excited. He hadn’t been allowed to listen to any of Fever, Cameron told him, because his mom was too protective, but he’d heard the song the music video was being based off of and liked it a lot. Cameron complimented his co-stars and the band often, trying to be more respectful than need be.
“This is my first acting gig,” Cameron told Brendon excitedly. “I’ve auditioned and stuff before, but this is my first big thing. And wow! For Panic! At The Disco? I’m gonna hit it big after this. You’ll see, Mister Urie!” Brendon would always cringe and beg him to call him Brendon, or Bren, or B, or even fucking Urine for Christ’s sake, but not mister.
“You’re making me feel old, little dude, and you’re already so much younger than me. My dad is Mister Urie, not me.” It was a cliché line he’d heard from so many adults in his childhood that it felt right said to this little kid. Cameron would always smile, laugh a little too, and go right back to calling him mister.
Despite how that annoyed him, Brendon still found himself hanging out with Cameron more than his own best friend. Spencer asked him about it once and made Brendon feel like something of a creep but, fortunately, Spencer also deemed his answer acceptable. Either that, or he just didn’t want to press the issue further.
“Brendon, why are you hanging out with the kid so much?”
“Who,” Brendon speculated, “mini-me? I’m helping him learn to copy some of my mannerisms. Label said they want the actors to be spot on.”
“No,” Spencer ventured, “I mean Ryan’s kid. Carmen? Shit, no, Cameron. You’re always around him and never seem to be around, you know, the real Ryan Ross you’ve been hopelessly in love with for, like, years.”
Right. Brendon was irrevocably in love with Ryan, but not, never, with Ryan’s little twin. That was so nasty on so many levels. Still, why did his feelings for the real Ryan matter in relation to this eight year old?
“Brendon, hey? I asked you something.”
“Huh? Sorry,” Brendon breathed out.
“I asked why you like Ryan’s kid so much.”
“I dunno. He wants to be professional but he still goofs off and I’ve always loved kids, man. Half of our fan base is, like, twelve. I’ve just gotten used to invasive midgets to the point that I can enjoy their company more than some adults’. He asks a bunch of weird shit about the band but none of its anything personal or uncomfortable. Its like- ‘what’s it like being famous’ or ‘do you get hotel nights a lot on tour’- it’s easy.”
Alright, so, maybe Spencer looked a little unconvinced, but it wasn’t like Brendon had lied to him. Spencer could look unconvinced all he wanted- Brendon didn’t need to care.
---
The final day of shooting was upon them just two days later, but the band had no more scenes to shoot. They were told to arrive later than normal and instructed to leave the actors alone and intervene if they thought anything could be improved for the final cut. That meant that Brendon, Spencer, Jon, and, without a doubt, Ryan, were stuck under a gazebo for about three hours, the cooler full of water bottles and deli meat sandwiches their only company besides each other. Jon deliberately cornered Spencer at the opposite end of the shaded area, leaving Brendon and Ryan leaning against the same pole and wondering who would be the one to break first.
It seemed Ryan couldn’t take the silence anymore because when he finally spoke with an utterance of, “Brendon,” his voice cracked some and he coughed to mask the embarrassed blush flooding to his cheeks. Brendon awkwardly turned to him and faced the older man.
"Uh, yeah, Ryan?" Ryan tilted his head up, blushing when they gained eye contact. Brendon saw tears in his eyes and wet tracks on his face. He had been, and still was, crying. "Fuck, Ry. What's wrong?" Ryan looked exasperated, exhausted.
"You are, Brendon! You've been avoiding me for ages! I had to ask mini-me if you were okay because you were spending all of your time with him and not me!"
"I'm sorry, Ryan. I didn't realize you owned me."
"Evidently I don't, Cameron does." That stung, causing Brendon to make a face. Ryan realized the damage had been caused by his words and groaned. "Look, I'm sorry. I just miss you, B. You never hang out with me anymore and I miss you a lot."
"I'm sorry," Brendon admitted, leaning into Ryan and hitting his shoulder with his own. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad. It was just, fuck, that kid. He was a Ryan I didn't have to feel bad about thinking was cute because he was eight and eight year olds are always adorable but the problem is that you are too. You're so attractive and sweet and brilliant and lyrical and funny and I can't handle it. I can't handle being around you and not being able to kiss you so I ditched you and hung out with the next best thing because Jon and Spencer ask too many questions and I would never be tempted to kiss him. I'm never tempted to kiss anyone. I'm too hung up on you."
Ryan sniffled and closed his eyes with a pained sort of expression playing at his mouth. He squeezed his eyes tighter- droplets fell from his lashes.
" God, Ry, baby. Don't cry. You don't have to feel the same, but don't feel bad about it. That's just my explanation, it doesn't have to matter at all in our relationship. Unless... it makes you too uncomfortable to be around me. I would still understand that."
"Hold me," Ryan begged. He scooted closer to Brendon and held back his tears, arms wide. He got the message and pulled Ryan to him. Brendon let Ryan prod his knee between his legs and sit on his lap. It wasn't the most painful thing he'd ever experienced but Ryan's sharp elbows kept hitting him in unexpected places and it slowly took away from the novelty of having Ryan Ross in his lap. Then, Ryan stilled, pressing his forehead against Brendon's and wrapping his arms around him. Brendon tugged at Ryan until Ryan let go with one arm and accidentally elbowed him in the stomach. Down Brendon went, but Ryan went with him.
At that point, their chests were flush against each other and neither man seemed to have any intent or interest in moving. Ryan loosely put his hands on Brendon's hips and stopped flailing his arms altogether.
"Ryan?" Ryan didn't say anything, just pushed his cracking lips against Brendon's. Catcalls ensued, presumably from their watching bassist and drummer, but neither really seemed to care. They pulled apart quickly. Ryan's lips were chapped as hell and Brendon's were slimy- not an amazing combination.
That being said, they wanted to go at it again so they instructed Jon to say they were getting chapstick if anyone asked. The town wasn't far from where they were shooting- maybe a quarter mile tops. They paid feverishly for some chapstick that Ryan opted to open immediately, dragging Brendon outside as he rubbed it against his lips.
"Shit, Ry, what-" Brendon tried to say. He was interrupted by Ryan pressing him hard against the corner store walls. The parking lot was deserted and it didn't seem to be a place where security cameras would cover the perimeter. All of these things Brendon noticed within the five seconds of Ryan pressing him against the bricks and kissing him like nothing else would ever matter.
In some ways, nothing else ever did.