Chapter Text
Summer is just around the corner.
Brendon's junior year has been, by a pretty long way, the best out of all his years of high school so far. It's also been better than middle school. This is really not saying very much. Brendon hasn't actually liked school since he was old enough to work out the difference between people laughing with you and people laughing at you, and the older he gets the more disconnected he feels from home as well. He was probably doomed from the start to have a shitty, shitty teenagerhood, considering.
There are two reasons why junior year has been the best year so far, and both of them are in band.
Mostly Brendon doesn't like the school band so much. A lot of the music they do is boring, boring shit. On the very rare occasions they do good stuff, Brendon's part is still mostly boring because he's stuck in the percussion section with the timpanis. Brendon's pretty keen on timpanis – enormous drums are a-okay by him – but it means he spends the occasional school concert standing around at the back of the hall waiting for the climax of whatever they're doing so he can go BUM-BUM-BUM-BA-DUM and then it's all over. He can never quite decide if that's better or worse than being in with the violins or something and having to play Serenade for Strings for the seven gamillionth time while everyone's parents look either starry-eyed or stupefied with boredom depending on how many of these things they've been to.
But the teacher always lightens up after winter break and then they get to do some fun music. That's where Brendon's first reason comes in. The first reason why junior year has been better than all the years before it is Spencer Smith, who's the sophomore who plays the drum kit.
Spencer only comes to band practice every other week. Supposedly this is because his mom has a regular appointment with something-or-other and someone has to pick up his little sisters from school, but Spencer rolled his eyes when he told Brendon that story. Brendon knows that the real reason Spencer can get away with only turning up every other week is that he's better than the rest of the percussion section put together. When he's there, he's pretty awesome company. He doesn't talk a whole lot to most people – Spencer doesn't seem all that interested in most people – but for some reason he's decided he likes Brendon, and that means they pass the time while the teacher is yelling at the saxophones with chatting about nerdy shit – Spencer likes a lot of nerdy shit, they spend nearly three whole band practices on Star Wars – and bands Spencer likes, mostly bands Brendon's never heard of. After the first time they do that Spencer starts bringing CDs to practice when he shows up so that Brendon can take them home and listen to them. "You've got to be prepared when you meet Ryan," he says with a grin.
Ryan is Spencer's best friend, according to Spencer. Brendon has never seen any sign of him anywhere around the school and none of the sophomores Spencer hangs out with seem to have any special status in Spencer's eyes. Sometimes Brendon suspects that Ryan is, in fact, Spencer's imaginary friend. He doesn't say this to Spencer. Even with an imaginary friend, Spencer's still a pretty cool guy. He's kind of intent and intense when he drums in a way which Brendon thinks is really awesome to see.
The other reason why junior year sucks way less ass than most of Brendon's school career is Jon Walker. Jon is also in band. Jon's also in the percussion section. He's a senior who got roped in at the end of the first semester to play the triangle, and somehow he never got around to quitting again.
The triangle is a truly amazing musical instrument, Brendon thinks, like an automatic auditory anticlimax; the whole band goes swirling into noise and more noise, ratcheting up the tension, the teacher out front jumping around like a deranged frog and making insane faces while she conducts, and then the triangle comes in and goes 'ting!' When he first got roped in Jon gave Brendon a sideways look every time he had to play his one note, like he was saying, "...seriously?" At first Brendon thought Jon wasn't really looking at him, and then he thought maybe Jon was looking at him but he didn't know what to do about it, so he ignored it. It seemed to work, because Jon stopped looking at him. And that lasted until the rehearsal when they all did the same fifteen bars towards the end over and over again while the teacher shrieked mournfully, and Jon played his two tings dutifully, and after the second one he made a stupid baffled face of such truly epic proportions that Brendon seriously couldn't stop himself from snorting out loud. He tried to turn it into a cough, but Jon apparently heard anyway, because he flashed Brendon a huge grin, like he was saying finally someone else gets how hilarious this thing is.
The teacher broke down in tears and commanded them all to leave, and Jon immediately got up and walked over to Brendon and said, "Finally someone else gets how hilarious this thing is."
"The triangle is inherently hilarious," said Brendon.
"Right?" said Jon. "Ting!"
And just like that Brendon had a friend.
Unlike Spencer, Jon's there every week. "Why don't you quit?" Brendon asks him once.
Jon looks hurt and says, "Then who would play the triangle?"
"I guess there isn't really anyone else with your gift for it," Brendon admits, grinning.
"Yeah," says Jon. "I'm a triangle virtuoso."
_
"Fuck," says Jon during practice one day.
The percussion section is being ignored this week, because Spencer isn't there and Jon and Brendon don't really do much. Jon gets a chair to sit on when he's playing the triangle, because it would be pretty mean to make him stand up the whole time, and Brendon has to be standing for the timpanis but for the rest of the time he theoretically gets a chair too. Generally he doesn't sit on it a whole lot. Sitting still is not something Brendon's known for being good at. Right now he can't really get up and run around the room four times or do a handstand until his face is red and he's dizzy from all the blood rushing the wrong way, or any of the other things he could do that he knows would get rid of some of the jiggling energy that builds up in him over the course of every single day, so he's experimenting with how far back he can get his chair to lean. Pretty far, he thinks. "What is it?" he says.
Jon's got his phone out and he's making a face at whatever he's reading on it. "Tom," he says, squinting at the phone like that'll change what it says.
Brendon doesn't really know Tom. He knows what Tom looks like – blond and stocky with floppy hair – but he's never spoken to him, and the only reason Brendon knows what Tom looks like is that he's a lame stalker-type person who watches Jon and his group of friends across the lunchroom at break. They always look like they're having fun. Brendon's pretty jealous. Sometimes he wishes he were brave enough to just go up and say hi, but just because Jon's nice doesn't mean his friends – who are all seniors, as well – are going to be. Band practice is not real life, Brendon knows that. "What'd he do?" he asks, to be polite. He's only a little bit curious. Jon's life isn't really his business. (That's a lie, well the first bit is, Brendon is incredibly curious. But Jon's still not his business.)
"He's trying to make me bring a date to prom," says Jon. "He's got Greta in on it now. I'm doomed."
"Who's Greta?" says Brendon, and then, "Why have you got to bring a date? Weren't you going to anyway?"
"Oh, Greta's a really old friend," says Jon. "She's at the Catholic school now? But we were totally in kindergarten together." He makes a little frowny face. "Have you seriously not met her yet? Why not? You should hang out with us more, B."
"Yeah, well," says Brendon, which isn't an answer. "So are you going to take her to prom, then?"
"What? No!" says Jon. "I mean – wow, no, I love her but she's scary. And also kind of like my sister. But mostly scary. And if she's in on it then I don't have a choice and I've got to find someone. Fuuuuck." His phone beeps again and he goes pale when he reads the message. "She's threatening to start setting me up on blind dates," he says sadly. "I'm so doomed."
Brendon still doesn't see what the problem is. He's actually kind of jealous. Brendon's never had the kind of friend that tries to matchmake him with anyone. Brendon's never even kissed anyone. This is another one of the very long list of reasons why Jon is basically a lot cooler than Brendon. But Jon seems actually worried about the whole blind-date idea, so Brendon says, "Well, why don't you just ask someone? I bet there are lots of girls who'd go with you. What about, um, Meg? You know her, don't you?" Meg's a senior too, and every guy in the school knows of her, since she's generally agreed to be gorgeous. Jon doesn't look all that happy about the prospect of Meg, though. "Um, those girls who hang out with you at lunch sometimes?" Brendon tries, rocking his chair back onto two legs again. He's getting it further back with every lean, now. "Katie? Charlotte?" It's probably pretty sad that Brendon knows their names.
"Yeah, I mean – Charlotte would go with me if I asked," says Jon. "It's not finding someone that's the problem. It's –" he sighs. "Did I tell you about Cass? I did, right?"
Brendon knows about the Cassie Thing. Cassie was Jon's girlfriend right through his sophomore and junior years, and Jon still looks a little bit regretful when he mentions her. Right at the start of last summer her parents moved to New Jersey, and Jon and Cassie were left trying to work out a long-distance relationship across half a continent. "It just... couldn't really work, you know?" Jon said the only time he really talked about it. "It wasn't that we didn't still care, it was just miles and miles."
"I thought you were over her now, though?" says Brendon carefully. He lets his chair fall back forwards onto all four legs and slumps.
"They keep saying I'm moping," says Jon, sounding mildly outraged but mostly just confused. "Do I look like I'm moping to you?"
Brendon looks him up and down. "Yes," he says. "Wasting away. Duh." He kicks at the floor and starts rocking his chair back again. "Honestly, you're a shadow of your former self, Jonny Walker. We're all worried about you."
Jon chuckles. "Exactly. I'm fine, I'm just not in the mood at the moment, you know? Sometimes you're not. And I don't want to get set up with someone. I dunno. I might ask a guy. Like, it'd be more fun, you know? I don't really want to do the whole date thing and lead anyone on, that would be mean."
Brendon falls backwards off his chair.
He falls into the drums and that makes the teacher look up and start scolding him and he gets detention. This, Brendon thinks, is pretty unfair. After all, Jon was the one who just took him completely by surprise.
They can't chat anymore now everyone's looking at them, but Jon keeps giving Brendon worried looks for the rest of band practice.
_
"Hey, hey, B?" says Jon afterwards. "You're okay, right? Sorry I landed you in detention." He looks genuinely contrite.
"It's not your fault I'm a spaz," says Brendon awkwardly.
"Well, yeah, but I –" Jon stops. "I, uh, didn't realize that you didn't know I – um, I should maybe have said – look, I swing both ways. So. Now you know?" He looks nervous. "You're okay with that, right?"
"Um," says Brendon coherently. He's never actually known anyone who's – well, actually, maybe he has and no one bothered to tell him, since he's known Jon for most of the school year and apparently all along – and his first instinct is to say no. No, he's not okay with that. No, that's not okay.
But that would be lying. Jon is – for whatever reason – Brendon's friend. No way is Brendon giving that up. And more than that, Jon is basically a good guy. Brendon's sure of that. No one's got a bad word to say about him. He's funny and warm-hearted and kind. Brendon decides, suddenly and firmly, that he's okay with anything Jon does, and shoves both his hands deep into his pockets.
"I was just surprised," he says defensively. "Of course I'm okay with it. Asshole."
Jon laughs, but it sounds relieved too. "So I'm just thinking," he says cautiously, "about prom, a guy would be less likely to..."
"...fall for you?" finishes Brendon after a moment.
Jon scratches at the back of his neck. "No! I wasn't thinking like that, exactly, just – I need someone who I can act like I'm into enough to get Tom and Greta off my back without –"
"Without actually being into them," says Brendon.
"Well," says Jon. "Yeah." He grins ruefully. "It sounds kind of bad when you put it like that, dude."
"No, I get it," says Brendon. "It's like you're pranking Tom and Greta, almost, right?"
"Good one," says Jon, and claps Brendon on the shoulder. "I just have to find a guy who'll play along."
Brendon tries to show willing, tries to think of Jon's friends. Again, he knows their names, but he feels a little bit less lame this time, because Jon talks about them a lot, so it's not like he's been Facebook stalking or anything. "What about Sean?"
Jon starts to laugh really hard, his eyes crinkling up and his face going red. "Oh man, no," he pants at last, "Tom would kill my face, B, and anyway Sean can't lie to save his life."
Brendon grins – because he can tell the difference between laughing-with and laughing-at, and Jon's not being mean – and says, "Well, I didn't know that. What about the guy with the, um," Brendon gestures at his own head, "hair?"
"The – oh, you mean Al?" says Jon. "That'd look suspicious, though, Al's way out of my league."
"He is not!" says Brendon, and then stops, surprised at his own vehemence. He supposes that, objectively speaking, Jon's friend Al is hot. He's kind of... lean, and dark, and he has... Brendon thinks they're called dreadlocks? But – if Brendon's being objective – Jon's pretty hot too. Not in the same drop-dead-gorgeous way, but he's got... shoulders, and this kind of slow easy smile that comes out when you've just said something he really likes, and when he laughs he throws his head back. It's... Jon's plenty hot. "I don't think he's out of your league," Brendon says.
"Thanks, B," says Jon with a grin, "but I'm not sure I'm gonna get anywhere there. Anyway I think he's got a date already." He thinks about it. "Actually, I think he's got three."
"Really?" says Brendon, distracted and fascinated. "And... they're okay with that?"
"Well, I don't know," says Jon thoughtfully. "Two of them know about each other, but I'm not sure about the other one. You get the idea, though. Al's out." He makes a face. "I just hope I can find someone soon. The faster I get Tom off my case, the less time Greta has to plot."
"Well, there's always –" begins Brendon, and then cuts himself off sharply – not even on purpose, it's just that his brain just caught up with his mouth and is too shocked at itself to keep going.
"Who?" says Jon.
"I was –" Brendon starts, his tongue feeling weirdly heavy and floppy in his mouth, and then suddenly his jaw comes unstuck as his brain bubbles through the whole thing super-fast and he finishes, "-going to say I'd do it. If you like."
He doesn't know what makes him say it. Obviously he's not really... well, obviously. It's probably got something to do with the way Brendon is ridiculously insecure and pathetically grateful for Jon's friendship, and here's a chance to pay him back. It's probably the fact that Jon gets this little crease in between his eyebrows when he's frustrated and Brendon feels bad for him. It's probably just a stupid impulse. But even as he's saying it he can see how it would be pretty funny - and hey, here's a benefit of sorts to Jon's friends not really knowing Brendon, cause it means the trick will work. "I could definitely do it," he says. "It'd be pretty funny to fool them, right?"
Watching Jon's face is like watching someone turn up the dimmer switch on a light, slowly getting brighter and brighter, as he thinks about it. "Hey, that would –" he says, "that could actually work. Seriously? You're okay to do it? It's just the one night you really have to hang out with me." He grins at Brendon. "Dancing and drinking spiked punch, I hear it's not all bad."
"Well, you know," Brendon takes his hands out of his pockets so he can clasp them in front of him, "I'd do anything if I could go to prom!" He flutters his eyelashes while he says it. Then he waggles his eyebrows up and down for good measure. Jon cracks up and Brendon feels pretty pleased with himself.
It's one night. One night of hanging out with Jon and, okay, pretending to be his date, but how hard can that be? And Jon seems really really pleased, in a sort of surprised way that will make Brendon feel a little sad when he thinks about it later, and knocks his shoulder against Brendon's a couple of times as they walk down to the parking lot together.
_
Jon's waiting beside Brendon's locker the very next morning.
Brendon startles when he sees him there and automatically looks around to see which of Jon's friends is with him, but the only one he can see is Tom at the other end of the corridor. And it's definitely Brendon's locker Jon is waiting by. "Hi," says Brendon, going over to him.
"Hey, B," says Jon. He drops his voice and murmurs, "Can Tom hear us?"
Brendon feels surprised and probably looks it, but he glances up at where Tom was and sees he's a good way away from them, and the corridor is full of noisy high schoolers. He won't hear whatever it is Jon wants to say. "Nope," Brendon says. "He's all the way over there. What is it?"
Jon looks apologetic. "Basically, well, Tom and Greta turned up at my house last night, and Greta had a whole plan of action worked out with step-by-step diagrams and everything and it was pretty scary so I kind of told them I'd already asked someone." The last bit comes out all in a rush.
"Oh," says Brendon. "Well, you did." He puts the tips of his fingers in his pockets and shifts from foot to foot on the spot a little. He's trying not to be too spazzy. Jon has already seen Brendon being spazzy so that's probably a lost cause, but Brendon's uncomfortably aware that Tom is not so much standing at the far end of the corridor as he is lurking, and he keeps shooting Jon and Brendon glances that are probably meant to be subtle. It's making the hair on the back of Brendon's neck prickle a little bit. "What's the problem?"
"Well, they got really interested when I said it was a guy," Jon says. "And Greta wanted to know how we met and," he scratches at the back of his neck, "how long I'd liked you and what you look like, stuff like that, and I kind of told them who you were, and then they left and," he makes an embarrassed face, "called up everyone I've ever known, the fuckers, and now all my friends keep texting me and telling me I've got to bring my boyfriend to the diner tonight so they can meet you, so," he shrugs, bites his lip, widens his eyes, looking hopeful, "will you come?"
"To... the diner?" says Brendon. He's not really asking. He's kind of just repeating.
Jon perks up a bit. "Yeah! It's pretty good, we just go and hang out there in the evenings sometimes – like, my friends – there's not really that many of us, we just get smoothies and hang out. It's good," he says. He sounds kind of like he's trying to sell it to Brendon. "It's really good, it's a good time. You should come."
This is weirdly like being asked on an actual date by Jon Walker, Brendon thinks, and then he snorts when he realizes that's exactly what's happening. Tom's watching creepily, so Jon is asking his fake boyfriend out on a fake date so the plan doesn't get spoiled and Greta doesn't get to put her step-by-step diagrams into action. Brendon relaxes a little once he gets it and starts to grin. "I'd love to," he says, and reaches out without letting himself think about it – all an act, all an act, all an act – and touches Jon's hand quickly. Jon's already smiling, but his smile widens at the touch. "Thanks for asking me," Brendon says, and Jon says, "No, thank you," and grins at him in a stupid relieved way. Then he says, "Shit, I have to get to class."
"Yeah, me too," says Brendon. "I – I guess I'll see you later?"
"I'll pick you up this evening," says Jon. "Is six okay? Shit, I don't have your phone number. Quick," he pulls his phone out of his pocket and shoves it at Brendon, "here, give me yours."
Brendon puts his number into Jon's phone fast, but Jon's faster and drops Brendon's phone back into his open bag while Brendon's still tapping in the last couple of digits. "Great," says Jon. "Thanks. Call me!"
"Okay," Brendon starts to say, but Jon's already halfway down the corridor. Brendon sees Tom step away from the wall where he's still slouching in a kind of creepy homeless way, and Jon falls into step with him, starting to say something, as the two of them disappear together to whatever class it is they've got.
Brendon picks up his schoolbag. He's going to be late to class. The corridor's nearly empty, but there are a couple of sophomore girls who pass him going the other way, and they look at him oddly.
_
Brendon starts to panic a couple of hours later. He can't think of anyone to panic at – now would be a good time to have some actual friends who are in his classes and stuff – so he fires off a text to Spencer between classes, hlp im n so mch truble!!!
Spencer texts him back halfway through math class. Brendon's phone makes a loud noise and the teacher glares at him and he tries to sink lower in his chair. Normally Brendon likes math, too. His foot jiggles nervously against the desk leg while he waits for a good moment to reach for his phone and check what Spencer's written.
In the end he can't check until class ends. He scrabbles through his bag for his phone as soon as the teacher dismisses them and nearly drops it getting it open. Spencer's text says wtf? tel me @ lunch
Brendon is kind of a nervous wreck by the time he actually manages to find Spencer at lunch. He drops his bag on the floor by Spencer's feet, sits down on the bench next to him and says, "Oh my god I'm an idiot."
"Yes," says Spencer. "You are. What's the matter?"
Brendon puts his face in his hands and says, "Mrrrfgle drffgle mrff."
"I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of pathetic," Spencer tells him. "Try that again."
Brendon has no idea why it is that this actually makes him feel better. Spencer's superpowers defy all logic and reason. He lifts his head up and says, "I've got a date with Jon."
Spencer snorts orange juice through his nose.
It's hilarious and makes Brendon feel a lot better, even as he starts waving his hands around uselessly and going, "No, not, I didn't mean, not like that!"
Spencer keeps choking for a while and Brendon starts to pound him on the back until Spencer shoves him away and says, "Stop it!" He takes a couple of deep breaths, still sounding kind of congested, and then says, "Okay, all right, I'm ready. Shoot."
"Um," says Brendon.
"You've got a date with Jon Walker from band," Spencer prompts, and then adds, "What the hell, Urie, I wasn't sure you even –"
"I don't!" says Brendon. "At least, I mean – look, it's not like that," and the whole ridiculous story comes pouring out of him. Spencer just sits there, with his left eyebrow going up and up and up, and Brendon finishes miserably, "and now I've got to go meet his friends this evening and they're going to hate me."
"Why would they hate you?" says Spencer.
He sounds honestly mystified, which is kind of flattering, but then Brendon knows Spencer has never cared much about the complicated social strata of high school. Spencer just does his own thing and doesn't seem to care much whether people think it's cool or not, and somehow it works for him. Spencer is way more confident and together than any sophomore has any right to be, Brendon thinks. So Brendon has to explain, patiently, "Jon's cool. Jon's friends are cool. And I'm obviously not good enough for him, so they'll hate me."
"Jon's not that cool. Cool doesn't play the triangle in band," objects Spencer reasonably, and then he says, "Wait, good enough for him? I thought you weren't actually dating him?"
"They don't know that!" says Brendon. Spencer is seriously completely useless. Why doesn't Brendon have better friends? Why doesn't Brendon have any other friends? "What the fuck, I promised him I could pull this off, it's never going to work and then he'll have to go to prom with Greta's twelve-step plan and he'll be sad." That seems like the worst part of all, somehow. Being hated by Jon's friends is going to suck but it's not like Brendon's not used to them not talking to him. Making Jon sad is much much worse, because Jon actually is Brendon's friend.
"Hey – hey – Brendon, calm down!" says Spencer, sounding pretty worried, and Brendon realizes that Spencer's been talking for a while now and he missed most of it because he was busy panicking all over again. "Look, if you want to fool them, you can do it. I know you can. We just have to," he pauses and thinks about it, "okay, I know what to do. We need Ryan."
"I don't think your imaginary friend is going to be much use," says Brendon glumly.
"What?" says Spencer. He's already got his phone out. "My who?" And then he says, "Ryan, hey, emergency. I've got a friend who needs your help. We're cutting class for the afternoon."
"We're what?" says Brendon, but Spencer's already told his phone, "See you there," and hung up. "Right, Urie," he says, "let's do this thing."
"What are we doing?" says Brendon pathetically.
"Well, I'm going to stand around and point and laugh," says Spencer, "but Ryan will help you out."
_
Brendon is still not entirely convinced that Ryan is not imaginary.
Sure, Brendon can see him too, but that doesn't necessarily make him real, it just means that Brendon and Spencer are having a shared hallucination. Or that Brendon is suddenly taking part in Spencer's extended hallucination, since Spencer does seem to know him pretty well, judging by the way he grins and starts talking nineteen to the dozen when they meet Ryan at the mall. There are several things that point to Ryan's likely imaginary status, like the smeared brown makeup around his eyes, and the fact that he's wearing a button-up shirt with a kind of scarf-thing instead of a tie, and his shiny, shiny shoes, and his messy hair which points straight up like he's stuck his finger in an electric socket, apparently on purpose. Brendon has never met anyone real who looks or acts anything like Ryan, and so he decides to go with hallucination-until-proven-otherwise.
Spencer explains the mess Brendon's in to Ryan. At first Ryan's mouth just quirks at the corners, and then his smile gets wider and wider and wider until he's grinning in fascinated delight. Brendon is really not sure how Ryan's going to be any help if he's just going to laugh at Brendon's predicament.
But when Spencer's done, after Ryan's done laughing, he turns to Brendon and looks him up and down. His eyes are sharp and considering under the smudged brown makeup, and he folds his arms and purses his lips and taps one of his shiny shoes on the floor in a one-two-three-four beat that makes Brendon nervous because it's ever-so-slightly out of time. He sees Spencer make a little wincing face too. Then Ryan says, "Okay, yeah, I can work with this."
"You can?" says Brendon. "I mean - what?" The mall is pretty empty at this time of day, and most of the people who are there are middle-aged women. They give Ryan and Brendon and Spencer dirty looks as they walk past them.
"What you need is confidence," says Ryan with certainty. "And the best way to be confident is to wear the right clothes."
Brendon feels kind of dubious about this.
"No, trust me," says Ryan, and starts walking. "This way. Trust me, it helps. If you know you look hot then you feel hot and then it gets way way easier to fake all the rest of it."
"Like you'd know," says Brendon. "You are confident." No one in the world, Brendon thinks, could go out in public with their hair looking like that if they weren't already overflowing with faith in themselves.
Spencer starts to laugh. Ryan just smiles at Brendon. His eyes are friendly despite the makeup. "Yeah," he says, "no."
He leads them into one of the clothes shops, gives Brendon another assessing look, and then starts pulling pairs of jeans off the shelves and shoving them into Brendon's arms. Brendon looks down at what he's holding. "Uh," he says, "these are a size too small for me."
"Stone-washed denim, bleached denim, black denim, indigo," chants Ryan, pulling more things off the shelves, "what? Shut up. Spence, take these. Classic, boot-cut, flared, skinny, okay, now we're in business."
Brendon finds himself hustled into the changing rooms, past the bored-looking attendant who perks up a little at the sight of Ryan, and pushed into a cubicle. Spencer, as promised, is already snickering. Ryan flicks cursorily through the huge pile of cloth they've brought with them and tugs out a pair of dark blue jeans with zips on the pockets. "Yeah, these," he says. "I'm pretty sure."
"Then why did you bring all the others?" Brendon asks.
"In case I'm wrong," says Ryan. "Go on, try them on."
Brendon meets Spencer's eyes. Spencer rolls his eyes and shrugs, but he looks kind of fond every time he looks at Ryan. Brendon's starting to see that he wasn't really kidding about the best-friends thing; he's never seen Spencer look this consistently amused and interested by anyone at school.
"Um," he says. "Are you guys just going to... stand there?"
Ryan looks blank. Spencer rolls his eyes again and says, "Give the man some privacy, Ryan."
Ryan still looks confused, like what? Privacy? What is that? But Spencer puts his hand around Ryan's arm – it goes all the way around, because Ryan is stick-thin – and hustles him out of the cubicle. Brendon eyes the jeans with misgivings. They are definitely a size too small for him.
On the other hand, Spencer and Ryan did both cut school to get him here, and Ryan keeps going 'trust me' in a really, really earnest way. Brendon thinks Spencer might be upset if he didn't go along with it. He pulls his own faded jeans down and kicks them off and starts to tug the stiff new ones on.
After a moment he pokes his head out through the cubicle curtain and says, "Um, they don't fit."
Spencer is sitting sprawled on the one chair in the changing room, looking bored. Ryan's eyebrows draw together in a frown. "Can you get them done up?" he says.
"Well, yeah," says Brendon, "but –"
"Let's take a look," Ryan orders.
Brendon steps out of the cubicle, feeling extremely stupid and a little uncomfortable. Ryan's eyebrows go up. "Twirl around," he dictates. Brendon holds out his arms and rotates on the spot. "See?" he says. "They don't fit."
When he gets back around to facing Ryan and Spencer again, Ryan's eyebrows are raised. "Oh yes they do," he says firmly. "Right, Spence?" Spencer nods. "Don't even think about arguing."
"But –"
"Hey, excuse me?" Ryan calls out to the changing room attendant. "Could we get another opinion here?"
Brendon looks over at the attendant just as the guy glances up and gives Brendon a long, slow once-over. His smile has teeth. "Nice ass!" he comments.
"See?" says Ryan to Brendon, whose face is now burning. "They're hot. Buy them."
Brendon has absolutely no idea how he ended up in this situation. He just wanted some advice on how to avoid making an idiot of himself in front of all Jon's friends so Jon wouldn't hate him. 'Get leered at by a shop assistant guy' was definitely not on his list of things to do today, and yet.
"You want to wear those?" says the guy. "I can take the tags off for you, no problem."
"I –"
"Yeah, that would be great," interrupts Ryan, and he flashes the guy a smile. Brendon gives Spencer a beseeching look. Spencer's got his hand over his mouth to hold back his giggles. "Get your other jeans, Brendon, we're going."
Brendon says, "I'm wearing my other jeans," as firmly as he can, and dives back into the cubicle before Ryan can convince him otherwise. When he gets out again, Ryan is chatting to the attendant. He keeps the conversation going right through Brendon and Spencer going to the till and buying the new jeans – which are kind of expensive, and Brendon looks at the price that flashes up on the till with dismay – and doesn't rejoin them until they're about to leave the shop. In the line for the cashier Brendon whispers to Spencer, "Is Ryan – um –"
Ryan definitely acts – well, Brendon would have guessed Ryan before he would have guessed Jon. But Spencer just looks a bit surprised. "No, don't think so," he says. "Ryan's straight. He just really likes dressing people." He nudges Brendon. "He's cool, right?"
Brendon isn't sure if Spencer's really asking him or if he's just checking whether Brendon's opinion of his best friend is the correct one. Either way the answer's easy. "He's awesome," Brendon says.
Spencer grins. "I knew I liked you."
Outside the store Brendon hefts the bag with his new jeans in it and says, "I can't really spend any more money."
"That's okay," says Ryan, who's finally rejoined them. "We'll lend you stuff."
"Make a new friend?" asks Spencer, jerking his head back at the store.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. We were talking about music. He likes some cool stuff."
"You know he was hitting on you, right?"
"What?" says Ryan, looking baffled. "Was he?"
Spencer starts laughing. After a second Brendon joins in. Ryan puts his head down, smiling ruefully at his own shiny shoes, and says, "I just never notice."
_
They go back to Spencer's house. Brendon's never been to Spencer's house before, and Spencer's forgotten his key, but Ryan, as it turns out, has his own. "We've been friends since I was four," Spencer tells Brendon. "We kind of unofficially adopted him, and he's over here all the time, so Mom said he might as well have a key." Brendon nods. The story sounds sort of like there are bits missing – like, for example, why the Smiths thought Ryan needed adopting when Ryan's presumably got a family of his own – but it doesn't seem like it would be a good idea to ask.
Spencer leads them up to his bedroom where Ryan immediately starts rooting through the closet. Brendon's about to ask if Spencer's okay with Ryan helping himself to Spencer's clothes, and then Ryan pulls out an armful of button-up shirts which don't look like anything Brendon's ever seen Spencer wear and what he says instead is, "You keep your clothes at Spencer's house?"
"There isn't room for all of them at his," says Spencer dryly.
Ryan snorts but doesn't argue. Instead he turns around and eyes Brendon, and then holds up a couple of shirts, dropping the rest on the floor. "White or blue?" he says to Spencer.
Spencer says, "I don't know that he can pull off your kinds of shirts anyway, to be honest."
The white shirt Ryan's holding has ruffles on it, and the blue one has a delicate floral pattern. Brendon kind of agrees with Spencer.
Ryan sighs. "I cut school to create art, and how do you repay me?" he laments, but he doesn't sound serious. "Fine, but your clothes won't fit him. Give me a moment." He glances at Brendon and adds, "Why are you still wearing those jeans? Those are the wrong jeans."
"Um, okay," says Brendon, but Ryan's already disappeared through Spencer's bedroom door. "Where is he going?" Brendon asks plaintively.
Spencer shrugs. "So when are you meeting Jon?" he asks instead.
"He's supposed to be picking me up at six," Brendon says, distracted instantly from Ryan's mysteries. He sits down on Spencer's bed, is interested for a moment by the Batman bedspread, and then remembers his real problems and forgets about it again. His foot starts jiggling nervously. "Spencer, I think maybe this is all a really bad idea."
"Don't be dumb," says Spencer. "It's too late now. And anyway it's Jon, what could go wrong?" Brendon opens his mouth to point out that everything could go wrong, but Spencer holds up a hand and cuts him off with, "Seriously. I know you have issues or whatever, but listen, Urie, Jon's nice. He likes you, you like him, you're friends, and he's not the kind of guy to hang out with assholes. It's going to be fine."
"Okay," says Brendon, and then he takes a deep breath and repeats, "Okay."
"And change your jeans," Spencer tells him, smirking. "You don't want to spoil Ryan's fun."
Brendon is starting to suspect that this whole idea of Spencer's was more about Ryan's fun than helping Brendon out.
When Ryan comes back Brendon's wearing the new, tight jeans – they are seriously constricting – and no shirt. (Brendon actually really likes being naked, or close-to-naked, especially in summer when his body's tendency to be super-sweaty all the time gets seriously disgusting.) He's also bouncing up and down on Spencer's bed a little while they talk about Batman. "No, the best Robin," Brendon says, "was the first one, okay, the little acrobat dude, he could do all these somersaults and things, and he acted like he was actually having fun." If Brendon was fighting crime with circus tricks in the mean streets of Gotham, he'd be having fun, definitely. Spencer says, "I don't know, he's kind of unrealistic," and Brendon counters, "He's the sidekick of a guy who dresses up as a bat and then goes out and kicks ass! Where's the realism supposed to be, huh?"
Ryan coughs. "You finally found someone as nerdy as you are," he tells Spencer, and then he tosses something at Brendon. "Here, put this on."
Brendon doesn't argue, just tugs it over his head, making his glasses go skewed. It's tight and white and leaves a little strip of skin exposed at the small of his back, but Brendon learned his lesson with the jeans and doesn't bother trying to say it doesn't fit. Instead he adjusts his glasses and says, "Is that okay?"
Spencer's staring at him. After a moment he turns to Ryan and demands, "Is that my sister's?"
Ryan ignores him and gestures for Brendon to stand up. Brendon shifts his weight nervously from foot to foot, and Ryan puts his head on one side and says, "What's that on your shoes?"
Brendon looks down at his sneakers but doesn't see anything wrong with them. "Uh, a smiley face?" he says. "And a sad one." They're drawn in black marker on the toes of each shoe. Brendon explains, "I did the sad one in band practice because we were going to be kept late, and then Jon said I shouldn't have sad sneakers and he did the other one."
Ryan and Spencer exchange a glance. Ryan says, "You did say fake date, right?"
"What?" says Brendon.
He doesn't get to say any more than that because suddenly his phone rings. Brendon thinks oh shit, my parents but when he looks at the display it's Jon calling. He's entered himself in the phone as jwalk :-). Brendon's still laughing at the smiley face when he answers.
"Hey, B," says Jon. "Oh, hey, what's funny?"
"Nothing," says Brendon, getting his giggles under control. "Sorry, hi! Hi! Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, of course," says Jon. "I was just calling you to check – six o'clock, right? I looked for you at lunch but you weren't there."
"Oh, sorry," says Brendon, feeling guilty. "I was – I'm hanging out with Spencer? We cut school."
("I cut school too," Ryan says, sounding aggrieved. Spencer nudges him to be quiet.)
"Cutting school, Mr Urie? Why, you hardened rebel," says Jon. "And you're so young, too." Brendon laughs. "Is Spence there?" says Jon. "Tell him I say hi."
"Jon says hi," Brendon says, and then he puts his hand over the phone and whispers quickly, "Is it okay if I tell him to pick me up from here? My parents –"
Spencer nods, getting it. Brendon puts the phone back to his ear and says, "Hey, can you pick me up from Spencer's?"
"Sure," says Jon. "Address?"
Brendon repeats the address as Spencer dictates it to him, and then he says, "Six?" and Jon says, "Six," and Brendon says, "Okay, I guess I'll see you at six!" and Jon says, "Okay, I'll see you later," and they're in that awkward bit at the end of a phone conversation where no one wants to be the one to hang up first, and then in the background someone on Jon's end yells, "Hey, Jon, is that your boyfriend on the line?"
"Shut up!" says Jon loudly, sounding embarrassed, and Brendon bursts out laughing, shaking his head at Ryan and Spencer when they look curious. There's the sound of a scuffle coming down the phone line, and then a voice Brendon doesn't recognize says mock-menacingly right into his ear, "You'd better treat him right, Mysterious Band Dude," and then starts yelling and laughing as the scuffling noises start up again. Jon finally manages to snatch the phone back and says, "Hey, B, sorry about that."
Brendon's still grinning. "It's okay," he says, and then a worrying thought occurs to him and he adds, "Hey, your friends aren't going to – I mean, like – " He thinks the fake menace thing won't be nearly as funny if Jon's friends are doing it to his face.
"They'd better not," says Jon with emphasis, and in the background someone says something muffled, laughing and apologetic. "No one's gonna be mean to you, B, I promise."
"Yeah, okay," says Brendon. He suddenly feels better about the whole fake date thing than he has all day. "Thanks, Jon."
Jon drops his voice and says, "Hey, it's my fault you have to do this at all. Don't worry, okay?"
Brendon finds himself smiling stupidly even though Jon can't see him. "I won't," he says. "See you later."
"Looking forward to it," Jon says, and then the phone clicks as he hangs up.
Spencer's room is oddly quiet. Brendon looks up to find both Spencer and Ryan observing him curiously, like he's a lizard in a tank or something. "What?" he says.
"Are you really sure that it's –" begins Ryan, and then stops when Spencer claps a hand over his mouth. Brendon blinks confusedly at them both.
"You should call your parents and tell them you're going to be getting dinner with some people from school so they don't freak out," Spencer tells him. "And then we should all play Xbox."
"Uh, okay," says Brendon.
Spencer nods, and then he says, "Ugh, Ryan, fuck!"
Brendon jumps. Ryan, his mouth newly freed from Spencer's hand, says, "You shouldn't take risks if you can't take the consequences," smugly.
Spencer says, "You fucking licked me, Ross!"
Ryan says, "You were the one with your hand all up in my face, what did you expect?" Spencer is wiping his hand off on his pants with a disgusted expression.
Ryan and Spencer are kind of weird, thinks Brendon, but in a cool way.
_
At ten to six Brendon and Spencer are on round six of an epic Mario Kart battle which Brendon is actually losing pretty spectacularly, when Ryan says, "Don't mind me," and dribbles something gloopy and wet into Brendon's hair from a bottle.
Brendon jumps, drops the controller, yelps, and loses the race. Spencer looks smug as he guides his guy round the last curve to victory, and Brendon says, "Ryan, why?" sadly.
"I said don't mind me," Ryan points out. "I'm just fixing your hair."
"Is there something wrong with it?" asks Brendon automatically, and then his brain catches up with what Ryan just said and he says nervously, "Not like yours, please," rolling his eyes up like he can see what Ryan's hands are doing with the gel that way.
Ryan snorts and says, "You haven't got enough hair to do it like mine, don't worry. I'm just spiking it up a bit."
"Why?" says Brendon nervously.
"To make you look hotter," says Ryan.
Brendon had kind of forgotten how this whole afternoon started over the course of the last couple of hours of video games, but now it comes rushing back to him. He's wearing the tightest jeans he could squeeze into and one of Spencer's sisters' t-shirts and now, apparently, there is going to be hair gel, and Brendon isn't sure he's even capable of looking hot. He probably just looks stupid. But he bites his lip and waits for Ryan to do his thing, and Ryan walks around Brendon and pokes at his hair a bit from the front, and then he steps back and puts his hands on his hips and says, "Ha, I am brilliant. Spencer, am I brilliant?"
"You're all right," Spencer allows.
"I'm amazing," says Ryan.
Brendon shifts uncomfortably and says, "I don't know –"
Ryan grabs him by the arm and pulls him to his feet. Then he drags him out across the hallway and into what Brendon suspects is Spencer's parents' bedroom. There's a full-length mirror on the wardrobe door and Ryan pushes Brendon to stand in front of it and says proudly, "Look!"
Brendon looks.
The guy in the mirror doesn't look much like him. He's still small like Brendon, and he's still got Brendon's dark hair and heavy-framed glasses and too-big mouth, but he's... Brendon puts his hands behind his back and squares his shoulders. Different. He looks like someone a guy as hot as Jon might conceivably want to make out with.
Brendon's reflection's face flushes red while he's thinking that.
He looks away from the mirror. Looking like someone good enough for Jon was the plan, wasn't it? Ryan's practically rubbing his hands together in glee. "I'm so good at this," he says happily.
"Um, yeah," says Brendon. "I... thanks." His voice goes quiet on the thanks without him meaning it to.
"Hey," says Ryan, giving him a sideways look and then putting his arm carefully around Brendon's shoulders. "My pleasure, okay? You should hang out with Spence and me more often."
Brendon hesitates and then gives Ryan a quick hug. He's not completely sure about the etiquette of hugging people who aren't family – he's made mistakes there before – but Ryan seems like he'll be okay about it. Ryan hugs him back, anyway, and that's good. Before either of them can say anything else, Spencer yells, "Brendon, your phone!" from the other room, and Brendon realizes it's six somehow already and Jon's just texted him and he's got to go.