Chapter Text
Brendon was never one for sports.
He never got it— he never understood what made them so interesting to people. How could a sport involving throwing an oblong ball across an incredibly large field be interesting enough to incite a whole day that all of America tuned into? Or how could hitting a ball over a net over and over and over again be interesting enough for people to want to sit down and watch? Hitting an even smaller ball with a wooden bat? An even smaller ball with a metal club? It never clicked in his brain, which is why, when Jon and Spencer invited him out to go see a game of Hockey, Brendon almost turned his nose up and laughed. Almost … he did.
“Oh come on dude, you’re such a downer.” Jon says this exasperatedly, sprawled across Brendon’s couch as he dramatically waves the spare ticket one of his friends had given him for tonight’s hockey game. “It’s literally a free ticket— you’re not even paying to be there.”
Brendon rolled his eyes as he opened up his bottle of beer, his second one since Jon and Spencer had shoved their way into his house to convince him to go to this stupid game— he’d be working on his third soon enough if they didn’t leave him alone. “I don’t even watch hockey. You don’t wanna give it to someone who does?”
“You’re quite literally our last resort.” Spencer says this from the kitchen, and Brendon’s assuming he’s foraging his cabinets for a snack of some sort. Brendon doesn’t know why he keeps inviting them over here.
“Exactly.” Jon points to the entrance of the kitchen, and then back to Brendon standing in front of him. “My friend’s on the team and he wanted Spencer and I there. We’re going for emotional support— you don’t wanna be a part of that?”
“Jon, I don’t know this friend. Why would I care?” Brendon says this matter-of-factly, Jon groaning in response. “You’re such a dick, B.”
Brendon’s lips meet the bottle of his beer, taking a long drink in defiance. It’s true that they hadn’t hung out in awhile (this is what Spencer prefaced when they first waltzed into Brendon’s condo), and it would be nice to have some time with his friends since he’s been so busy working on his solo music career. He hasn’t really gotten much time to relax in recent times.
“If you come with us to the game, I’ll pay for your meal afterwards.” Jon says this as he sits up, batting away one of the pillows on Brendon’s nice couch. That he’s messing up. “That offer holds no weight for me.” Brendon replies simply, and it was true. Money wasn’t something he’d had to worry about in a long time. His music career was flourishing.
“Would you get the stick out your ass and come with us to the game?” Spencer’s leaning on the kitchen door frame, arms crossed as he stares at Brendon from across the room. “What else are you gonna be doing today, anyways?”
Brendon turns to look at Spencer, an annoyed look plastered onto his face. He wasn’t doing anything today, that was true. Before Jon and Spencer came to bug him, he was just playing video games on his game console, alone— in the comfort of his own home.
•••
He couldn’t believe they’d convinced him to go to this.
The arena was cold, and Jon and Spencer failed to mention that detail. They also forgot to mention how long this hockey game would take. So now, sitting there at his seat (close to the rink because their “friend” hooked them up with them), Brendon’s shivering his ass off— and clenching his jaws to keep his teeth from chattering. Maybe he should let them chatter, maybe it’d guilt Spencer into feeling bad for dragging him here— because Jon could give less of a shit as he cheers his buddy on.
Brendon can’t even tell which player is the famed friend he’d heard all about. If Jon and Spencer were such close friends with him, why hadn’t he ever met him? Brendon decides to bite down on that rising jealousy. It was stupid to be jealous about that. Actually, all of this was stupid.
“How much longer until this game is done?” Brendon leans over to Spencer to ask, and he’s met with a large clasp on the shoulder— being pulled into a side hug. “One more period, bud. Then you’re home free.”
Brendon just nods, looking out onto the ice to see the players running around… skating around. He was over this— next time Jon and Spencer tried to invite him to anything, he would need to choose the place in which they did that. You could drink beer and relax at the game! Jon said this confidently, and Brendon just scrunched his nose up at the idea. Why do that when he could be drinking beer in the comfort of his own home?
Jon’s chattering away on his left side, and Spencer’s agreeing, mumbling, nodding— and Jesus Christ Brendon needed to get out of this glorified walk-in freezer soon. Brendon’s plotting his dramatic exit from this hangout when, from the sidelines, he sees a player step off of the ice. He’s tuning the other two out by now, focusing as that same player takes off his helmet, and… huh. He was handsome. Very handsome. He’s got that boyish charm, and a bit of scruff— and his hair’s a lot longer than Brendon was usually into and—
“Brendon? Hello?” Jon’s waving a hand in front of his face, and Brendon pushes it away promptly. This gathers a cackle from Jon. “Jesus dude, where did you go?”
Brendon blinks, his lips twisting into a frown. “I was trying to focus on the game.” Jon throws his head back with a laugh, patting Brendon’s back. Very roughly. Spencer soothes this by rubbing the area that Jon hit on Brendon’s back. He’s quietly thankful for that. “You didn’t hear my question at all?”
Brendon shakes his head, and Jon nods. “I said, if any one of us would be a good hockey player, who would it be?”
There’s silence between the three before Brendon points his finger to Spencer. “He’s got more grace than you do, Jon.” He can hear Spencer burst out laughing on his right, and Jon snorts— giving a laugh of his own on his left.
•••
Brendon feels as if he’s being dragged everywhere tonight. First to the hockey game, and then to a nearby diner by the hockey rink. He guessed it wasn’t that bad— Jon did say he’d pay for his meal, and though that wasn’t a worry for him monetarily, he appreciated the gesture at least.
He was somewhat surprised that Jon and Spencer didn’t insist on meeting up with their friend after the hockey game— but Brendon assumed that the friend was probably busy. Y’know.. doing hockey related things, he guessed. While Jon is busy blabbering on about the hockey game, about how good Ryan was— again, the famed friend, Brendon was half listening and half focusing on the plate of food in front of him. He’s singling out a fry that piques his interest, and they’re not as crispy as he likes them— and Jesus when will Jon and Spence stop talking about this hockey game?
Brendon pops the fry in his mouth, his hand grazing the bottle of his beer as he scans the scenery around him, tuning the conversation at the table out. He swears that Jon and Spencer only bring him out so it’s not weird that two dudes are eating and giggling together at a table in a diner. Sure, throw one more dude in there and it’s not weird at all. Definitely. His lips make contact with the beer bottle, scanning and scanning the scenery until— Oh.
That one player, from earlier— the one with the long brown hair and the highlights, the one that made Brendon stop and stare (and was making him do it again) had stepped into the diner. What was he doing all alone in here? He’s a lot prettier now that he’s gotten a better look at him— and he’s closer, and he’s getting even closer and—
“Ryan!” Spencer’s voice snaps Brendon out of his trance, and he whips his head to stare at Spencer— waving his hand, and then he whips his head back to the man he’s talking to and it’s him. The guy from the ice rink. That was Ryan? Oh god damn it.
Brendon has to peel his eyes away from Ryan as he comes and greets the group, hugging Spencer as a hello— receiving a bear hug from Jon as a greeting. He’s left to sit there awkwardly as he watches the trio, and Brendon’s really really trying not to stare so hard at Ryan, the hockey guy, the one he found cute. This was the worst.
“Ryan, this is Brendon—” Spencer bats Brendon on the shoulder with the back of his hand, and Brendon’s tempted to bite his hand in retaliation. He doesn’t, though— he wouldn’t want to embarrass himself in front of company. Instead, he stands up from his seat, leaning over the table to shake Ryan’s hand— and ouch he’s got a good grip on that handshake, Jesus would this dude let up?
“It’s nice to meet you— I’ve heard plenty about you.” Brendon says this through a large smile, and Ryan’s flashing his own smile— and Lord he’s got a very nice smile, and Brendon’s got to consciously stop shaking the man’s hand before he just never stops.
“Nice to meet you too, Brendon.” Ryan says this cooly, and Brendon can’t help but like the sound of his name coming out of Ryan’s mouth. It sounded nice. He should stop gushing over this stranger— Jon and Spence’s supposed best bud. But he couldn’t. Brendon was secretly glad that the three men were leading most of the conversation at the table, it gave him more of an opportunity to look this Ryan guy over. He was definitely tall, even while sitting he could see that— and his hair fell just at his shoulders, and did this dude dye his hair blonde at the tips? Now that he looked closer he resembled that of a pirate. Loose shirt, tight black pants and suspenders? Lots of accessories… odd choice in clothing.
“Dude, tell Ryan what you do for work, Brendon.” Jon is hitting the side of Brendon’s arm to get his attention and shit he’s hoping he wasn’t staring at Ryan too obviously— but from looks of it, no one cares— not even Ryan, which is good. “Oh— yeah, yeah I do music.”
Do music? That sounds fucking lame— he does much more than just that. Music’s a lifestyle to him, it envelops his every waking moment— hell, if he wasn’t in his home studio, he’s usually making melodies in his head, sneaking away to bathrooms or quiet rooms to record a small voice memo before he could forget it. In fact, he can think of several different songs he’s concocting in his head, right now— as he speaks about his job, and as he’s watching Ryan listen to him about ‘doing music’. His brain never shut off, always willed him to keep going, loudly working in the back of his mind as he held conversation with this pretty hockey player in front of him.
Brendon yaps on about his music for a few more minutes, and Ryan seems interested, and that makes him feel at least somewhat cool. Jon and Spencer have heard enough about all of his works in progress— he can tell Jon’s fighting the urge to roll his eyes, and this only makes Brendon want to continue on and on, maybe until the sun explodes. That would show Jon. Spencer diverts the conversation again and Brendon’s left nonchalantly drinking and drinking and watching Ryan from the corner of his eye. He swears he sees Ryan looking at him too.
•••
He’s back at home, and he’s sitting at his computer, eyes squinted at the bright screen that sat in front of him. Brendon got home a few hours ago, and it’s late. Two in the morning, to be exact, and he cannot sleep. He never could.
What was so great about hockey anyways? That Ryan guy was cute but Brendon swore that was the only thing that interested him about the sport. No, he wasn’t pulling up videos of hockey on YouTube, and no he wasn’t looking for the team that Ryan played for specifically. That was ridiculous. All of this was ridiculous, actually.
Brendon’s fingers are tap, tap, tapping on the desk as he watches the hockey players on screen skate onto the ice— and they’re tap, tap, tapping as he sees a familiar face on the sidelines. He’s humming a tune while he watches hockey player, Ryan Ross, skate on screen— and he reaches for his phone as a melody swells in the back of his mind.
•••
Jon and Spencer stopped by Brendon’s house before they headed to the ice rink to meet with Ryan. Apparently there was hockey practice that he wanted them to watch, and seriously— they were just at the game— why would someone want to watch that again?
“Could I go and watch?” Brendon asks this, and it makes Spencer raise a brow curiously. “I thought you didn’t like hockey?”
This is just met with a shrug, and he’s hoping and praying to whatever God is out there that Spence doesn’t pry any further than this. “I enjoyed the game the other day.”
Jon is beaming with that sleepy smile that never went away no matter how much rest that man had gotten. “No way! We finally have a sport that Bren likes!” He pumps a fist in the air victoriously and Brendon’s tempted to take back what little interest he had in hockey— or maybe push Jon over. Either option would be just as satisfying.
Spencer places a hand on Brendon’s shoulder and squeezes, but that curious look doesn’t leave. Brendon’s hoping Spencer hasn’t caught on. “Layer up, then. I don’t wanna hear you complaining about how cold it is again.”
•••
He’s a lot better equipped for this than last time. Brendon’s sitting there in his oversized hoodie and he’s staring out at the ice, thoughtfully (he hopes he comes across as such), praying that Spencer and Jon don’t know he’s searching for Ryan specifically. But then again, that wouldn’t be weird, right? He’s not Brendon’s friend, per say, but he is friends with his friends. That doesn’t make it as weird when his eyes rest on the player, whose back is adorned in large lettering spelling out “ROSS”.
Jon of course is cheering him on, even though this wasn’t even an actual game it was just practice. Brendon doesn’t see why Spencer and Jon wanted to watch Ryan practice hockey. What was the point in that? Couldn’t they have just waited to watch the actual game? Were they so eager to see the mess-ups and coaching? Brendon finds this incredibly annoying— even as he’s eyeing down Ryan as he weaves through different teammates and shuffles the puck across the ice with ease. This was dumb. He was already good at this— what else is there to practice?
Brendon’s heart definitely doesn’t flutter when he sees Ryan look at the group’s direction, and Brendon doesn’t pull the hood of his hoodie up to hide the fact that he was flustered like some teenage fangirl. Jon’s definitely too busy yelling encouraging words to notice, but Brendon can definitely feel Spencer’s gaze directly on him. He can see Spence from his peripheral, and Brendon purses his lips “absentmindedly” (with much thought, actually, to look as natural as possible) as he stares out into the ice.
Brendon decides Spencer knows him a little too well.