Team Jon: A Chain Is No Stronger Than Its Weakest Link
Color of Insanity


“You know, if we pull this off, we’ll be on the map.”
 
“Yeah,” Ryan scoffed. “The police radar.”
 
“Too late for that,” Jon added, grinning at Ryan.
 
They were all lounged in Spencer’s living room on his very expensive, specially-ordered from Italy, leather couches and arm chairs. The coffee table that Ryan set his drink down on was made from imported Cherry from Japan. Spencer could be such a label snob.
 
The room was light and airy, though Ryan knew that if one of the windows were to be opened from the outside, an alarm would go off around the entire house and certain doors would bolt-lock shut automatically.
 
Jon glanced at Spencer next to him on the couch where he was reclining comfortably, a glass of scotch in his hands as he met the gaze.
 
A minute passed between the two, and finally, Spencer broke the look and turned to Ryan.
 
“So have you thought about what I said?” he asked, taking a sip of the amber liquid in the glass.
 
Ryan immediately scowled and plucked his drink from the table, secretly hoping it left a water mark on the expensive imported wood.
 
“I don’t see why we need a fourth,” he grumbled moodily. “We’ve done it before with just us three.”
 
Spencer rolled his eyes and Ryan knew that if he weren’t Spencer’s best friend, he would have been off the team and off the job in a second.
 
“And the last time, you nearly got caught, and we had to spend six months piecing things back together. I had to stay in some shit-hole town for two months until it was safe to come home. Do you know what could have happened during that time?”
 
“Yeah. Everything could have gone up in flames.” Ryan scowled. He knew what had happened, thank you very much. He was well aware of what he’d done.
 
“So I think it’s safe to say we need a fourth for this one,” Spencer finished firmly.
 
Ryan’s lip curled, but he knew there was no use arguing with Spencer at this point. He could still complain, though.
 
“So you don’t trust me? Who the hell is backing this show, Spencer?”
 
Spencer sighed. “It’s not that we don’t trust you.” He glanced at Jon, who shrugged lightly. “It’s just that you can be sloppy and it’s dangerous for everyone. And don’t throw your money in our faces, Ry. You and I both know you wouldn’t even have it if not for Fall Out. And I don’t recall you being sad when you found out your dad was dead.”
 
Ryan grumbled to himself. Spencer had a point.
 
“Fine. So who is this glorious fourth you have in mind?”
 
*
 
Brendon waited patiently, a hard feat for him, but years of training had honed his skills and beaten his bouncy personality into submission… at least for the moment.
 
He sat at the small coffee table, sipping his drink slowly, eyes flickering over the classic movie posters on the walls. He paused on Casablanca for a moment, but though his face was turned to the wall, his eyes slid to the side, keeping a close eye on the man sitting at the table in front of him.
 
He’d been in the café for nearly half an hour, pretending to read a book that now lay open before him, cracked back over its spine as his eyes moved around the room, always coming back to the man at the next table.
 
The man was reading a newspaper and drinking a cup of strong black coffee. Brendon could smell it from where he was.
 
Brendon’s own coffee was long gone, but he continued lifting the cup to his mouth, pausing as he watched the man intently for a moment, but looking at the posters carefully when the man rustled his paper and glanced around.
 
The man paused a minute, then folded up his paper and tucked it under his arm, draining the last of his coffee and standing.
 
Brendon moved swiftly, grabbing his jacket from the chair and moving forward just as the man stood up. He brushed past him with the barest of touches, swinging his jacket on as he passed and breezing out the door.
 
Outside, he tossed away his used coffee cup and tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, ignoring the bite to the cold Seattle air. The air was thick with mist and fog as he walked quickly, kicking the cement and making his way around to an empty alley. Only a few trashcans stood at the end which Brendon ignored as he leaned against the wall and reached into his inside jacket pocket.
 
Smirking, he pulled out an expensive leather wallet and leafed through the hundred dollar bills, the ones he’d seen when the man had paid for his coffee. He saw the credit cards, membership cards to stores. There were no pictures of children or a girlfriend, but Brendon didn’t care.
 
He took the money and shoved it in his pocket, but paused as he caught sight of the ID inside. Prying it from the plastic cover, he slid it out and examined it for a minute.
 
“I do believe that’s my wallet.”
 
Brendon’s eyes shot up and he took a step back as he recognized the man whose wallet he’d just stolen standing at the entrance to the alley. His eyes were already charting out the alley for escape routes as the man took a step forward. They fell on the trashcans behind him and the fence behind.
 
Backing up slowly, he didn’t speak, the ID still clutched in his hands.
 
The man held up a hand to steady him as he stopped approaching. “I don’t want it back,” he said and Brendon paused, suspicious. “The cards are fake anyway. You can keep the money.”
 
Brendon didn’t reply, watching the man carefully. He recognized the man’s suit as Armani and his shoes just as nice. His eyes darted to the man’s clear blue ones, searching for the truth within them.
 
The man paused as Brendon continued his survey.
 
“Think of it as an advance.”
 
“Advance?” Brendon repeated cautiously, his stance still defensive as he prepared to run.
 
The man nodded slowly. “You’re Brendon Urie.”
 
Brendon stopped, even more suspicious now. Not many people knew his name; he made a point of it.
 
“Who are you?” he demanded instead of confirming the man’s guess.
 
The man’s mouth curved into a smirk and he laughed quietly. “I believe you have my ID.”
 
Brendon glanced down at the card in his hands. It was a California driver’s license and the name on the bottom read Spencer James Smith V. As Brendon looked at it, he realized what he had found intriguing about it. There was no height or weight listed for the man that stood in front of him.
 
“Spencer Smith,” he said finally, his eyes darting back to Spencer, who merely smirked.
 
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Spencer replied. “You’re not easy to find.”
 
Brendon still didn’t trust him and just shrugged. “I try not to be.”
 
Spencer laughed, biting his bottom lip carefully. “That’s a good quality.”
 
Brendon frowned. “What do you want?”
 
Spencer’s smirk disappeared as fast as it had come and his eyes hardened. “If you are Brendon Urie, then I want you.”
 
Brendon paused. The wallet was still clutched in his hand and he knew he could still get away. But something about Spencer interested him. He knew who he was. He knew he had stolen his wallet. He knew something Brendon didn’t. And Brendon always wanted to know everything.
 
Raising his chin slightly, he met Spencer’s hard stare with a challenging one of his own. “I am. What do you want me for?”
 
Spencer’s smirk was back. “Why don’t we take a ride and I’ll explain it to you.”
 
Brendon hesitated. He knew all about getting into cars with strangers, especially strangers like Spencer. He’d been in this business for too long not to.
 
Spencer saw the hesitation and sighed, pulling his jacket open. “No weapons. Promise. I just have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
 
Another minute of silence passed as Brendon evaluated Spencer quickly, taking in his dark hair and expensive clothes, the way his eyes sparkled in the dim alley, even through the mist. Spencer didn’t waver in his gaze and Brendon finally nodded.
 
“Let’s go.”
 
Spencer smirked again, his eyes darkening as he led Brendon out to a car waiting on the sidewalk.
 
*
 
Ryan pulled back the imported-from-China silk curtains and peered down the long winding driveway, searching for the tell-tale sign of Spencer’s arrival. He kept waiting to see Spencer’s sleek black Mercedes climbing the drive, but every minute passed and he still didn’t arrive.
 
“Relax, Ry,” Jon called from the couch where he was stacking cards on the coffee table.
 
“Oh, right,” Ryan scoffed, huffing and turning from the window and coming back to the armchair, flopping down in it. “I should relax. Because Spencer has gone to fucking Seattle to find some fourth guy for us. What if this Brendon guy is a fucking nutcase? It could jeopardize the entire operation.”
 
Jon’s eyes didn’t waver from his house of cards. “He probably is. He should be anyway.”
 
“Can you be serious for once?”
 
Jon sighed and glanced up for a second, catching Ryan’s scowl.
 
“Spencer knows what he’s doing. He’s never led us wrong before.”
 
“Never lead you wrong, you mean,” Ryan pointed out waspishly. “You didn’t know him in high school and college. I nearly got expelled because of him.”
 
Jon chuckled softly as he added another card. “I heard that was a joint effort. Breaking into the Dean’s office to change your grades isn’t exactly innocent.”
 
“Yeah, well, what are we fucking doing now?” Ryan sat back with a huff, staring out the window at the swaying palm tree and the sparkling pool behind the house. “All because you two lovebirds want some stupid jewel.”
 
Jon looked up, an eyebrow raised. “We already told you,” he said calmly. “It’s not for us.”
 
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Ryan grumbled.
 
He wasn’t really mad at Jon or Spencer. He was angry that they felt they needed a fourth to make up for him. He didn’t need some guy coming into their group and taking his place.
 
Jon paused a minute before finishing. “It’s for the Cobra because of what happened last time.”
 
Ryan’s scowl deepened. So it was his fault they had to go get a fourth in the first place. Because he had fucked up the last job and now some stupid L.A. gang was after them. They had to appease them and this was the only way.
 
Ryan huffed and sunk deeper, watching as Jon returned to his careful stacking. Silence fell amongst them as they waited.
 
Finally, Ryan jerked up as he heard a car door slamming. Kicking the table in the process, and sending Jon’s cards scattering, he scrambled up and turned to the door.
 
Jon just frowned as he watched his cards flutter to the floor. Sighing, he rose from the couch too and didn’t bother to pick them up.
 
Ryan stood like a dog on the hunt, still as he watched the door, waiting for the sounds of footsteps and the knob turning.
 
Spencer came in and raised an eyebrow at his audience. A silent message passed between the three: Is he here? Did he come? Spencer moved in, and behind him came another boy in his early twenties, dressed in jeans and a warm jacket. He came in carefully, his chocolate eyes darting all over the room, taking in the chic furniture, the original art on the walls, the Persian carpets on the floor.
 
Spencer didn’t say anything, meeting Jon’s questioning gaze first. Moving over, he greeted him with a chaste kiss and turned as Jon’s arm slid around his waist.
 
Ryan knew Jon wouldn’t admit it, but he always worried when Spencer went away on missions like this.
 
Ryan didn’t watch them, but kept his eyes on the new arrival, who seemed to be taking in every detail around him. His hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets and his head turned as he looked over everything.
 
Spencer let him look, let his eyes linger over every vase, every ottoman, every lock on every door. Finally, he took a step forward, Jon’s arm sliding unwillingly from his waist but keeping a grip on a belt loop.
 
“Brendon,” he said sharply and Brendon’s gaze shot to him, sharp and inquisitive. “I’d like you meet the rest of the team.”
 
Ryan scoffed quietly. He didn’t know if they could really be considered a team since the word team made it sound as though they were doing something useful, while really, they were just extremely well-funded thieves.
 
Brendon’s eyes moved automatically to Ryan as he made the noise and Ryan paused.
 
“This is Ryan Ross,” Spencer introduced them, his gaze careful as he looked between the two. “He’s our technical help.”
 
Ryan glared at Spencer for a minute, then turned back to Brendon, who seemed to be evaluating him carefully. Ryan didn’t like the way Brendon’s eyes slid down his torso and lingered down before rising back up to meet his annoyed gaze.
 
“And this is Jon,” Spencer continued when neither Brendon nor Ryan spoke. “He works mainly as our distraction and lookout.”
 
Jon nodded politely to Brendon, his eyes moving between Spencer and Brendon. Brendon moved from Ryan slowly, his gaze still lingering on Ryan.
 
Ryan bristled as he turned away. He didn’t see what was so special about this kid, why they needed him to ensure success.
 
Spencer noticed Ryan’s scowl and shot him a warning look that Brendon didn’t miss. Spencer turned back to Brendon, though.
 
“So this is our little group.”
 
Brendon nodded silently.
 
“You want something to drink?” Spencer offered, taking a step away from Jon, forcing Jon to drop his grip. “Scotch? A martini? Bourbon?”
 
Brendon’s eyes followed Spencer over to the drink cart. “Scotch is fine.”
 
Spencer nodded. “Sit down.” He nodded at the couch, and Brendon hesitated a minute, still glancing around carefully before taking a seat in one of the armchairs slowly.
 
Ryan remained standing, his arms folded across his chest, but Jon took the couch across from Brendon, a curious expression on his face.
 
“So what do you do?” he asked Brendon after a minute while Spencer prepared the drinks.
 
Brendon glanced at Spencer’s turned back and then back to Jon. “I’m a thief.”
 
Jon laughed for a second. “We have that in common.”
 
Brendon just glanced at him and then Ryan, who was still glaring moodily. He didn’t need Spencer to bring in some new guy to steal his position.
 
Brendon looked back at Jon as Spencer set down the short glass in front of him on a jeweled coaster and handed Jon one as well. Ryan’s was left on the corner of the table, inviting him to join the group, but he remained stubbornly on the outside of it.
 
Brendon took the drink, but didn’t drink it. “So are you going to tell me exactly what this is about? I mean, I flew all the way down here on a promise of money.”
 
“Oh, there’s money in it,” Spencer promised, reclining on the couch next to Jon, setting his hand comfortably on Jon’s knee and sipping his drink. “If you get the job done.”
 
“And the job is stealing a diamond?”
 
“Not just any diamond,” Spencer corrected. “The Hope Diamond.”
 
“From Titanic?” Brendon asked skeptically, finally taking a sip of his drink.
 
“Common misconception,” Spencer said, setting down the drink and reaching under the couch. He pulled out a small manila folder and tossed it on the table.
 
Brendon glanced from him to the folder before carefully sliding it to him and flipping it open. Inside were printed pages of information and news clippings.
 
“The Hope Diamond originated in India but was bought by the French,” Spencer started, sipping his drink and shooting Ryan a look to sit down, but Ryan remained stubbornly standing behind them. “It was in the French royal family for years until 1792 when it was stolen. It resurfaced in 1812, cut smaller and a now a rich blue color. It had been previously known as the French Blue diamond. It passed from the British royalty to a diamond merchant, Henry Hope. It went through a myriad of buyers for nearly a hundred years until it came to the United States in 1911. When the owner died, the diamond was bought by Harry Winston, and eventually, came to the Smithsonian, where it remains.”
 
Brendon listened as he read through the reports on the diamond tucked in the little folder. When Spencer finished, he looked up.
 
“And you want to steal it. Why?”
 
Spencer shared a glance with Jon, who turned to Brendon.
 
“We’re in a little trouble,” Jon said honestly. “Our last job didn’t end well and the group we were doing it for is holding a little bit of a grudge.”
 
“What kind of grudge?” Brendon asked cautiously, glancing from Spencer to Jon.
 
“He wants to kill us,” Ryan supplied, ignoring the look Spencer shot him.
 
Brendon glanced at him sharply as he spoke. “Kill you? Why?”
 
Ryan just shrugged moodily and Spencer dragged Brendon’s attention back to him. “We screwed up and nearly got caught. Nearly got them caught. Now we have to make it up.”
 
“By stealing a diamond,” Brendon repeated dubiously. “How will that help? You won’t be able to sell it unless you cut it down again, but then it will be worth less. You can’t wear it because people will know. So why that diamond? Why not break into the National Treasury. Wouldn’t that be a better idea?”
 
Spencer shook his head. “He doesn’t want money. He wants a present.”
 
“A present?” Brendon repeated skeptically.
 
Jon nodded. “For his boyfriend. He likes the best. He’s kind of like Spencer here, except he likes big gaudy pieces of jewelry.”
 
Spencer rolled his eyes at Jon, but looked back at Brendon. “Yes, a present for his boyfriend, and repayment from us.”
 
“Who is he?” Brendon asked after a second.
 
“Maybe you’ve heard of the Cobras,” Spencer said carefully, watching Brendon for a reaction. “They masquerade as a gang out of Los Angeles, but they’re really a tight-knit group of criminals put together by the leader of Fall Out, another upscale operation located in Chicago. The leader of the Cobras, Gabe, paid us to steal some technology out of Cal Tech, but… things went wrong.” His gaze slid to Ryan, who just glared, tired of being constantly reminded of his mistakes.
 
Brendon followed his gaze. “So he’s going to kill you unless you get this diamond for him?”
 
“Pretty much,” Jon agreed, smiling at Spencer, who sent him a tired look and nodded at Ryan.
 
“So are you in?” Spencer asked.
 
“What do I get for this besides what sounds like a killer on my tail and a headache?”
 
Spencer chuckled. “We’ll be sure to make it worth your while. We’re not under-funded in any way.”
 
Ryan just grumbled to himself at this comment. It was his money that Spencer was using, even if they had done many lucrative jobs in the past, jobs that let Spencer own a beautiful house away from the city, alone for miles with palm trees and a pool, designer furniture and custom-made tiles on the floor.
 
Brendon was watching him again and Ryan turned away, snatching his drink from the table and downing it in seconds. He really just wanted to be alone and get this job over with.
 
Brendon paused as he turned back to Spencer. “Okay, I’m in.”
 
“Great,” Spencer said, standing up and both Jon and Brendon rose too. “Now you have your choice. You can either find some place to stay in the city or you can stay here. Ryan is staying in one of the guest rooms while we do the job, and Jon already lives here.”
 
Brendon was silent for a moment as he thought, looking from Spencer and Jon to Ryan, who was staring at his glass and wishing there was more alcohol in it.
 
“I’ll stay here,” he said finally.
 
Spencer smiled for a second. “Good. I’ll show you to your room.”
 
He led Brendon out of the living room, Jon and Ryan staring after. Once they were gone, Ryan huffed and went to the drink cart, pouring more scotch in his glass and throwing it back in a second.
 
Jon watched him silently.
 
“So what’s so special about him?” Ryan asked, turning around and frowning down the hall Spencer had led Brendon. “He didn’t look any different than anyone else.”
 
Jon just shrugged. “Spencer must know.”
 
“Do you always trust him unconditionally?” Ryan asked moodily, flopping down in an armchair now that Brendon was gone.
 
Jon shrugged. “I trust that he knows what he’s doing and that he wouldn’t do anything unless he was sure.”
 
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, because Spencer is the evil mastermind behind it all.”
 
Jon paused. “Is this about Spencer or is this about Brendon?”
 
“No, it’s not about Brendon,” Ryan spat, annoyed. “It’s about you guys just deciding that we need a fourth after all this time when it’s been fine with three.”
 
Jon sighed and came around to the armchair, sitting on the arm and slipping a comforting arm around Ryan’s shoulder. “We’re not replacing you, Ry. We’re just getting extra protection. You don’t want Gabe coming after you, do you? Brendon can help with that.”
 
Ryan sighed tiredly. He knew he should be glad that some of the pressure was off him now, but he still didn’t like the idea of this guy.
 
He didn’t reply to Jon, though, as Spencer returned and raised an eyebrow at them.
 
“Problem?” he asked, but Jon shook his head, smiling as he got up and came over to Spencer, kissing him easily.
 
“Nope,” he murmured against his lips and Ryan looked away.
 
Jon and Spencer had been together for over a year, ever since they’d met out in Chicago. Jon had originally been one of Fall Out’s new recruits, but had managed to slip away when Ryan and Spencer got involved with the group, winding up stealing Jon away as well as pissing off Fall Out’s leader, Pete Wentz. They had appeased him, though, by doing alternate jobs for him and his other groups like the Hushies and the Cobras.
 
Ryan didn’t mind the displays of affection, except that it only served to remind him that he had no one while Jon and Spencer couldn’t be happier.
 
Breaking away, Jon pulled Spencer onto the couch and glanced at Ryan.
 
“Ryan thinks we’re replacing him,” he murmured into Spencer’s ear, a hand playing with the edge of Spencer’s jacket.
 
Spencer’s eyes met Ryan, who scowled and looked away.
 
“That’s ridiculous, Ry. I wouldn’t replace you.”
 
“You replaced Brent,” Ryan pointed out, bristling slightly.
 
Spencer scoffed. “Brent tried to make off with half a million dollars after we nearly got killed getting it in the first place.”
 
Ryan huffed, even though he knew it was true.
 
“Plus, how could I resist letting Jon in?” Spencer smiled at Jon, who grinned and kissed his cheek lightly.
 
“Come on, Ry,” Jon wheedled, resting his head against Spencer’s shoulder. “Give Brendon a chance. Maybe this is a good change.”
 
Ryan grumbled and glared at Spencer. “Why did you have to let him stay here?”
 
“Because it’s safer, for us and for him,” Spencer replied immediately. “And because we don’t know if he’s trustworthy yet.”
 
“So you let him come here, told him the plan, and don’t even trust him yet?”
 
“I didn’t tell him the plan,” Spencer corrected him. “I told him the goal. I didn’t say where or when or how. I only told him why.”
 
Ryan sat back, sighing and letting his head fall back on the chair, and stared at the ceiling. An expensive chandelier from France hung above his head and he thought vaguely that it could use some dusting.
 
“We’ll give him a couple days,” Spencer said, “and then we’ll see.”
 
Ryan just sighed loudly and watched the chandelier glimmer in the bright sunlight.
 
*
 
Spencer’s house was huge and had many spare bedrooms, which was why Ryan couldn’t fathom the reason Spencer had chosen the room next to Ryan’s for Brendon to stay in. Ryan discovered this not long before he headed to bed.
 
He hadn’t seen Brendon since he’d arrived that evening. He figured he was probably hiding in his room, searching for money or coming up with plots to steal from them.
 
He left Spencer and Jon in the living room where they had been since Spencer had gotten back, whispering to each other about unimportant things, in Ryan’s opinion, and occasionally sharing a kiss that Ryan didn’t really care to see.
 
So he wandered from the living room, intending to go to bed and hopefully wake up to find this was all just a very bad, but well-planned out, dream.
 
He wandered down the hallway lined with more original paintings and turned at the door across from the Monet, pausing as he heard another door to his right open.
 
Glancing over, he saw the next door next to his open and Brendon stick his head out cautiously. He appeared to be glancing around carefully before taking a step out. He stopped suddenly, though, as he caught sight of Ryan.
 
Pausing, he didn’t say anything for a moment, staring at Ryan.
 
Ryan didn’t speak, but his eyes narrowed as Brendon continued to watch him, his stance frozen but ready to bolt at any moment, whether back to his room or down the hall to where Spencer and Jon were dually occupied.
 
“I was just looking for the bathroom,” Brendon spoke finally, his tongue flicking over his plump bottom lip.
 
Ryan’s expression didn’t soften. “It’s down the hall on your right,” he said coldly and Brendon turned to peer behind him.
 
“Thanks.”
 
There was another pause in which Ryan glared and Brendon continued to look him over, his eyes sliding from his flashing hazel eyes down the curve of his neck, over the tight turtleneck that Ryan was wearing, down to his jeans and over his sharp hips until they reached his bare feet.
 
Ryan didn’t like the gaze that sent shivers down his back and cleared his throat loudly to bring Brendon’s attention back to his face.
 
“I don’t know what Spencer sees in you,” he spoke carefully, “but you better be as good as he thinks. And if you fuck us over, it’ll be the last thing you do.”
 
Then Ryan gave him one last glare before wrenching open his bedroom door and disappearing inside, leaving Brendon frowning in the hallway.
 
*
 
Two days passed and Brendon neither tried to run away, nor seemingly called anyone since the police didn’t show up at the house and haul them away.
 
Ryan still hadn’t warmed up to Brendon despite Spencer’s insistence that he would be good for the job. Even Jon had accepted Brendon, and Ryan caught them playing Boggle a few days after in the living room. He’d scoffed at Jon’s invitation to play and had settled in a far chair, his nose stuck in a book, and refused to look up when Brendon laughed at a word Jon had made up.
 
Brendon, it seemed, was a nice guy once he actually got comfortable around Spencer and Jon, sure they weren’t going to slit his throat in his sleep. He had locked his bedroom door the first few nights there, just in case.
 
When he thought about it, though, it was pointless given that this was Spencer’s house, and they were professional thieves. They knew all about picking locks and sneaking into places.
 
Brendon didn’t know much about unlocking any locks and unknotting any knots. He knew about stealing. He knew he could pick the pocket of an emo kid and they wouldn’t even feel it, he was so slick. He’d stolen watches off people’s wrists, necklaces from their necks, rings from their fingers, and they had never noticed a thing.
 
He still wasn’t sure about this whole plan of Spencer’s, why stealing this diamond would get some gang/group of thieves off their backs. He supposed he didn’t understand the power of love and gifts.
 
So he waited the first couple days, watching Spencer carefully, watching him interact with Jon, how they really seemed to care about each other. He watched how Jon’s eyes lit up when Spencer entered the room and gave him a kiss, or even brushed their hands together. He watched them whisper together quietly in the evenings. He watched Jon smile when Spencer offered to get him a drink or pulled a blanket over their legs when they watched TV.
 
Brendon also watched Ryan, no matter how hard he knew Ryan was trying to rebuff him. He hadn’t forgotten what Ryan had said to him that first night in the hall. Ryan interested him for several reasons.
 
Brendon had always been an observer, even in his childhood when his hyperactive behavior had gotten him many reprimands from teachers. He’d always watched, though. He’d learned from his mistakes, learned that the way to succeed in anything was to watch and to wait.
 
So he watched Ryan. He watched him read intellectual books by the window. He watched him gaze away from the book sometimes, either out the window or at Spencer and Jon on the couch. He saw the longing there, the longing that was always quickly masked the second he realized it was happening.
 
He saw Ryan’s cold exterior crumble when Jon grabbed him into playful hugs while Spencer laughed at them. He saw the bond between the three and wondered what it would take to get in completely.
 
For the most part, Brendon stuck with Jon. Jon seemed to be the most open of the group. He smiled at Brendon in the mornings and poured him a cup of coffee. He asked him how he slept, asked him about more than how he felt about the heist. He asked him about Seattle and what he did there, who he’d left there.
 
Brendon told him. He made his living like a lot of people did. Lying, cheating, swindling. His was just a little more illegal than others. He hadn’t had any family in Seattle. He’d been there because it was just where he’d ended up. He didn’t mind the constant rain and eternal fog. He didn’t mind it because the city was beautiful in the sun.
 
Jon asked him how he liked California. Brendon couldn’t say much. He hadn’t seen much besides Spencer’s house, which he admitted was very nice. He liked that it was winter time and only sixty degrees outside. He said he missed the rain.
 
Jon laughed at things Brendon said, hugged him before he went out with Spencer. He whispered in his ear to let Ryan cool off, from what, Brendon didn’t know.
 
Brendon liked Jon a lot.
 
Brendon liked Spencer too, although Spencer was much more reserved than Jon. He did smile at him sometimes, but for the most part, reserved his true smiles for Jon and Ryan. Brendon figured he was the man behind the curtain, the conductor of it all. He was the one in charge, but without Jon and Ryan, he wouldn’t have much. They worked as a team and Brendon admired that.
 
Brendon was curious, though, why they needed him if they had a good dynamic already. He didn’t mind feeling like the outsider for a while. But he already felt comfortable around Jon, and he was sure Spencer didn’t hate him.
 
So Brendon waited and watched, paying more attention to Ryan than the rest. He knew Ryan took his coffee with milk and sugar, sometimes adding some cocoa to the mix. He knew he’d been reading Foucault’s Pendulum for days, sometimes stopping and frowning at the page and huffing as he would reach for the dictionary he had hidden under his favorite armchair by the window.
 
Brendon wanted to know more about Ryan, like why he was trying so hard to read the book dubbed by many to be a muddled web of words and psychological babble. He wanted to know why Ryan wore so many vests and studded belts, why he liked to drink coffee and read, not tea or soda or bourbon.
 
Brendon waited three days before he found out anything more about the mysterious Ryan Ross.
 
It was late and Brendon was hungry. Dinner hadn’t been much more than a few pieces of pizza, and despite that Brendon was nearly twenty-six years old, he still maintained that he was a growing boy in need of real nutrients.
 
So at one AM that night, he snuck out of his bedroom and made for the kitchen. The house was quiet and dark except for security beeps and red dots as he passed through doors. Spencer’s house was the best protected house he’d ever seen, but then, his specialty was not breaking into things.
 
Brendon crept to the kitchen, hoping he wasn’t going to accidentally trip off a wire and set the whole house on alarm.
 
He made it unscathed, though, and flipped on a single light in the kitchen, lighting the space dimly next to the fridge and counter space. He was surprised to see someone else already there, rummaging in the fridge, but pulling back sharply as the light flipped on.
 
Ryan blinked in the light and stared at Brendon in the doorway. Brendon was still in his normal clothes which meant he hadn’t gone to sleep yet.
 
Ryan was clothed in a pair of blue and green pajama pants and that was all as he watched Brendon, the fridge door still open and cold air hitting his bare chest.
 
“What are you doing here?” Ryan asked sharply, taking a step back from the fridge and letting it swing shut. His pajama pants slung low on his hips as he turned to Brendon.
 
“I was just hungry.” Brendon shrugged and took a step towards the pantry, opening it and ignoring Ryan’s indignant stare.
 
Ryan scowled as Brendon pulled out bread. Brendon paused.
 
“Do you want a sandwich?” he asked after a minute. “I make a pretty mean cheese sandwich.”
 
Ryan stared, then sighed slightly as though giving up. It was too late to argue. “Grilled cheese?”
 
Brendon smiled. “Sure.”
 
Ryan nodded and moved to the island, taking one of the stools and watching as Brendon assembled the necessary ingredients. He still didn’t speak. Just because Brendon was making him food and he was tired didn’t mean he had to be nice to his replacement.
 
Brendon went about making the sandwiches, glancing at Ryan every now and again.
 
“So how long have you known Spencer?” he asked finally, spreading butter on the outside of the sandwich and turning on the stove.
 
“Since we were kids,” Ryan grunted, scratching his side lightly.
 
“And you just decided to get into this together?”
 
Ryan shrugged and yawned. “We just kind of fell into it. We had another partner, but he screwed us over, or tried to. So then we got Jon.”
 
Brendon nodded, throwing the sandwiches on the grill. “What do you do exactly?”
 
Ryan didn’t really want to go into it, but it must have been the late hour that had him talking, explaining how he had gone to school for computer programming and now he was their technical engineer, responsible for shutting off security systems and other technical things when it came to their heists.
 
Brendon paused as Ryan explained and the sandwiches sizzled.
 
“So what happened last time?”
 
Ryan scowled and glanced away. “I screwed up. I usually do, but this time it wasn’t an easy fix. I defaulted on an alarm, thought it wouldn’t matter because it was in another part of the building, but then I went in to help and got lost because I am a genius I tripped the alarm, and nearly got us fucking arrested.”
 
“And Spencer still let you stay?” Brendon joked, but Ryan wasn’t smiling. He paused. “Sorry.”
 
“No, no,” Ryan said sarcastically. “I mean, it was my fault, right? We all could have been caught. It’s not like they don’t know we do things like this, they just can’t prove it. So Spencer is right to get another person. Because I need to be looked after. Because I’m not trustworthy enough on my own.”
 
Ryan was glaring at the countertop now and Brendon didn’t speak, swallowing carefully and turning off the burner, sliding the sandwiches onto plates. He set one down in front of Ryan, who merely glared at it.
 
“I think you’re fine,” Brendon said honestly.
 
“If I were fine, they wouldn’t have gotten you,” Ryan snapped.
 
“Oh.” Brendon stopped, thinking it over. It made more sense now. “Well, maybe I can help.”
 
“I don’t need your help.” Ryan sat up and snatched the sandwich, eyeing it for a moment before taking a bite and chewing intently.
 
Brendon watched him eat for a moment until Ryan set down the sandwich and glared.
 
“Why are you always fucking watching me?” he demanded.
 
Brendon blinked. “I like to watch people.”
 
“Then go to France,” Ryan grumbled. “It’s a sport over there.”
 
Brendon laughed slightly and Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed.
 
“Yeah, but in France, they speak French.”
 
“So?”
 
“I don’t speak French.”
 
“Then go to England,” Ryan snapped, rolling his eyes.
 
Brendon leaned forward over the island and smiled at Ryan, who avoided his eyes and took a drink from the water bottle he’d pulled from the fridge earlier.
 
“I don’t want to go to England,” Brendon said quietly, his eyes sliding down Ryan like they always did, but this time a little more suggestive, his eyebrow raised and a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
 
Ryan stared for a minute, then stepped off his chair. “Then mind your own business and help us steal this diamond so you don’t get shot either.”
 
Ryan went around the island, heading for the door, but Brendon caught him by the arm as he passed. Ryan’s eyes flickered to the hand and he glared.
 
“Let go,” he said firmly.
 
Brendon did, but took a step forward instead. “I’ll mind my business, but maybe I want you to be part of it.”
 
Ryan’s eyebrows came down as he stared. His eyes widened as Brendon leaned in, bringing their lips together briefly until Ryan snapped to his senses and pushed him away, glaring again before leaving quickly.
 
Brendon paused as he watched him leave. Running his tongue over his lip, he could feel where Ryan’s lips pressed against his and smiled. Shrugging, he turned back to his sandwich and finished it happily, feeling more content than he had since arriving.
 
*
 
Spencer gathered them the next morning, four days after Brendon’s initial arrival to the house, to finally let Brendon in on the true details of the plan.
 
Ryan took his seat in the smallest armchair the farthest away from Brendon, who took the other chair while Spencer and Jon settled on the couch – well, Jon settled. Spencer pulled out a different manila folder than before and tossed it into the table as he leaned forward.
 
Brendon watched interestedly, glad they seemed to have decided to trust him. His gaze flickered to Ryan a few times, but Ryan was frowning and thoroughly ignoring him.
 
So he looked back to Spencer, who opened the folder and pulled out a folded up blueprint. Spencer unfolded the blueprint, letting it fold out over half of the coffee table. Brendon saw the first floor of a large building along with markings of the walls.
 
“What’s that?” he asked, glancing at Spencer.
 
“This is the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History,” he replied, pulling out another tourist-looking map and throwing it down in front of Brendon.
 
Brendon picked up the green map and found the museum amongst the several Smithsonians on the Mall.
 
“It’s in Washington D.C.,” Spencer continued, pointing out the National Mall and the metro station in the middle.
 
“That’s where the diamond is?”
 
“As blue as the day it was dug out of the earth,” Spencer replied easily. “Now, the Smithsonian has extremely good security. They have metal detectors on every door and sensors around every display. They have a team of security guards which are changed on a rotated five-hour shift. The museum closes every night at five-thirty PM and opens at ten AM.”
 
Brendon nodded, following along carefully. “So are we going to break in or are we already going to be there?”
 
Spencer paused. “We’re going to come in before closing time. There’s a cleaning closet located off the diamond room which is where we’ll wait. We have to wait until it’s dark, but since it’s winter, that won’t take long. Ryan isn’t going to be in this closet. He needs to get to main power grid which is on the floor above through locked doors and security cameras.”
 
“He’s going to go alone?” Brendon glanced at Ryan, who met his gaze for a second before scowling and looking away.
 
“What, you think I can’t do it?” he snapped. “I know how to deprogram an entire fleet of computers. Jamming a security system shouldn’t be too hard.”
 
Spencer ignored him while Brendon gazed after him for a minute, his smile barely noticeable.
 
“Yes, he’ll be going alone, at least at first. He’ll be upstairs disabling the system. You and I will be downstairs in the closet.”
 
“And Jon?”
 
Spencer turned his gaze to Jon, who smiled. “I’ll be making sure you three don’t get caught.”
 
Brendon frowned but Jon just smiled reassuringly.
 
“I’ve done this plenty of times,” he assured him. “And we’ve never been caught yet.”
 
Brendon just sighed and turned back to Spencer. “So once the security is off?”
 
“Ryan stays upstairs, and you grab the jewel.”
 
“The cameras and guards?”
 
“Cameras are off with security, guards are Jon’s job.”
 
Jon reached under the coffee table and pulled out a small autoloading gun and held it up. Brendon’s eyes widened, but Spencer and Ryan didn’t react. Ryan just glanced out the window as though bored.
 
“Y-you have to use that?”
 
“I hope not.” Jon set it down on the table and Brendon steered very clear of it.
 
Brendon swallowed nervously. He usually didn’t deal with guns of any kind. His jobs were small and quick, not a face to remember or a thing missing to realize.
 
“Okay, so I grab the diamond—”
 
“With gloves,” Spencer added. “No fingerprints allowed.”
 
“Right.” Brendon nodded, glancing between the three. Ryan was still avoiding him, looking out the window. “So I get it and then Ryan meets us somewhere?”
 
“No.” Spencer shook his head. “Ryan stays upstairs because we all know what happens when he doesn’t.”
 
Ryan turned from the window to glare at Spencer. “It was one time.”
 
“That you almost got caught. It was three times that you tripped an alarm and two times that you forgot to turn off part of it.”
 
“So my memory sucks. Doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”
 
“I didn’t say that.” Spencer folded up the blueprint and shoved them back in the folder. “It just means that you jeopardize the missions.”
 
“I’m a liability,” Ryan sneered, folding his arms across his chest.
 
Spencer sighed. “I just don’t want anyone caught. It could mean jail or worse.”
 
Brendon followed the argument carefully and finally turned back to Spencer when Ryan fell silent and tore his gaze away.
 
“Okay, so one of us goes to get Ryan?”
 
“Ryan stays in the security room and you’ll give me the diamond. Jon and I will head for the exit and you go get Ryan. When you get to Ryan, you check that all parts of security are off on the doors. If it’s not, you go back and do it. If it is, you avoid any and all security and get the hell out of there.”
 
“What if we run into security?” Brendon asked worriedly.
 
Spencer glanced at Jon, who patted the gun carefully. “Jon will be there.”
 
Brendon wasn’t really reassured, but he wasn’t the one who had this all planned out. All he had to do was sneak in with Spencer, grab the diamond, and drag Ryan out of there. From what it sounded like, Ryan tended to be the one tripping things up and Spencer wanted Brendon there to be sure that didn’t happen.
 
Brendon just nodded then, hoping everything would go exactly as Spencer said with nothing unexpected, although he knew that was unlikely to happen.
 
Spencer sat back, placing all the papers back in the folder and arching an eyebrow.
 
“Any other questions?”
 
Brendon paused, looking around at all of them. Jon was smiling, his hand stroking the back of Spencer’s neck easily while Spencer waited. Ryan was still staring determinedly out the window and didn’t meet his gaze when he glanced over.
 
“I don’t think so. Um, when are we doing this?”
 
“Two weeks from today,” Spencer supplied. “We fly out to D.C. next week, poke around, get a lay of the land, hang around the museums, learn the motions of the security, find out the best places to hide, locate all the cameras, learn everything you can’t from the outside.”
 
Brendon nodded. “Okay. I think I’m good.”
 
Spencer nodded too, glancing at Jon. “I have something I want to show you.”
 
“Yeah?” Jon asked lazily, his hand grazing down Spencer’s arm. “What’s that?”
 
“It’s in the bedroom,” Spencer muttered and Jon’s eyes brightened.
 
“Really? We should take a look at that then.”
 
Spencer stood, grabbing Jon’s hand and pulling him up before glancing back at Brendon and Ryan. “You two should talk about your exact plan for getting out of there.”
 
Ryan merely grunted as Spencer and Jon disappeared to the back of the house and Spencer’s bedroom.
 
Brendon sat back in his chair, silent for a moment as he let his brain process all that Spencer had told him. It was a much bigger job than he’d ever done before. Usually, his pulls were only to get by, to make enough money to get by. If he made this job, he wouldn’t have to stick his hands down anyone’s pants whom he didn’t want to for a long while.
 
Speaking of sticking hands down pants, Brendon’s attention shifted to Ryan, who was curled in his chair, staring resolutely outside where the sun was shining but the air was a cool fifty degrees. Brendon hesitated a minute, then stood, going over to Ryan.
 
Ryan could see Brendon moving out of the corner of his eye but remained stubbornly still as he approached.
 
Glancing down, Brendon sighed softly. He knew Ryan was trying to ignore him after the night before. Brendon had never been one to be ignored, so dropping down to Ryan’s level, he smiled sweetly.
 
“So have you thought about how we’re going to get out of the museum?”
 
“The door?” Ryan snapped moodily, turning his head from Brendon.
 
Brendon licked his lips and inclined forward slightly, but Ryan leaned back. “Come on, Ryan. Spencer trusts me. Why don’t you?”
 
“Maybe because you didn’t stick your tongue down Spencer’s throat in the middle of the night,” Ryan replied, his eyes finally coming to Brendon.
 
“I didn’t do that to you.”
 
“Close enough.” Ryan frowned, crossing his arms tighter.
 
Brendon sighed. “I’m sorry. I can take it back. We can start over, pretend it didn’t happen. Let’s just focus on the job.”
 
“You can’t take it back,” Ryan said, annoyed. “You already did it. It’s too late.”
 
Brendon paused. “Well, then, what do you want me to do?”
 
“Leave me alone.”
 
Brendon paused, then smiled. “Afraid I can’t do that. We’re involved now, you and me.”
 
Ryan just stared. “No, we’re not.”
 
“In one way or another,” Brendon allowed, his hand set lightly on the chair’s arm as he watched Ryan carefully. “We’re in this job together.”
 
“Along with Spencer and Jon,” Ryan added insistently.
 
Brendon shrugged. “In a different way.”
 
“In the same way,” Ryan insisted, staring at Brendon, his eyes narrowing slightly.
 
“I’d like to think it’s another way,” Brendon murmured, leaning forward even as Ryan leaned back.
 
He was not going to get involved with Brendon, not when he was obviously just there to take his place. Ryan had seen how Jon hugged him and smiled at him, how even Spencer had gotten friendly with this outsider. Brendon was a threat and Ryan knew that any kind of involvement with him would jeopardize the mission way more than forgetting to cut an alarm would.
 
His hormones, however, didn’t agree with his mind as Brendon closed what little distance there was between them and kissed him. Their lips came together slowly and Brendon’s eyes closed as his opened his mouth, his tongue flicking against Ryan’s sealed lips.
 
Ryan tried to resist, to be as stubborn as Spencer could be, but he’d always been weak, and found his mouth opening to Brendon’s persistent tongue. He felt the slick slide of it on his lips, Brendon’s teeth on his bottom lip, biting carefully. He felt the hum Brendon gave inside his mouth and it seemed to shock him to his senses.
 
Breaking the kiss hastily, Ryan struggled to his feet, putting the chair between himself and Brendon as a barrier.
 
Glaring at Brendon, he let out a long breath. “It’s not another way and it never will be,” he said firmly, shooting him one last glare as he stalked down the hall to his room, slamming the door behind him.
 
*

part 2