Team Spencer: Hell Hath No Wrath like a Woman Scorned
Anything and Everything Is Always for the Band



August 31, 2006: MTV Studios California

It was the morning of the VMAs and they were pretty much the most nervous they had ever been in their entire lives. So, of course they were huddled together backstage, trying to waste their nervous energy, all four of them so close to hysteria.

Finally, Ryan had finally excused himself to "practice his make up” for that night, which everyone in the band knew meant that Ryan was going into actor mode: fixing his face paint to hide behind, creating another more confident version of himself. After Ryan left, their small group disbanded to different parts of the room backstage.

Spencer was drumming on the arm rest of the chair, pointedly NOT thinking about the crowd that would be here in a matter of hours. He was focusing on the rhythm and the beat; he drummed through their CD twice, and then on to a few cover songs.

Jon was reading a magazine to “deflect negative energy.” He didn't know why the only magazines they had littered around MTV Studios were Home and Gardening, but he was Jon and he rolled with the punches, sitting on the couch contentedly reading about how to make a creative flower pot caddy.

Of course, Brendon was already in full performance mode. He was the only one talking to the cameras, entertaining the viewers with an air of ease that made Ryan so so glad-- guiltily relieved-- that he had begged let Brendon be the singer and front man.

And it was in this atmosphere of nerves and quiet chatter that Ryan first met Keltie Colleen.

***
Ryan was standing in front of the large mirror, trying to keep his hand steady so that he wouldn't poke himself in the eye. His hands were shaking and he kept going over the chords in his mind. After several nervous minutes of trying to perfect only one of the many rays sprouting from his eyes, he let his hand fall down, frustrated, and took a deep breath. He twisted his kohl pencil in his hand and thought about going and finding Brendon. Maybe no one would notice if they disappeared for a while. It was his birthday, after all. He cleared his thoughts as one of their dancers walked in.

“Hey,” she said to him. He glanced up at her in the mirror.

“Um... hi,” he smiled, managing to reply with only a faint quiver to his voice.

“I like your make up,” she said, hand ghosting over her own face.

Ryan's eyes flickered back to his painted face before he responded with “Thanks.”

“So... you're the...?” she let her sentence fall as a question.

“oh... the, uh, the guitarist...” he left off lyricist, people usually thought he was pretentious when he pointed that out. Either that, or most people figured out after the first few minutes of conversation (if they got him to talk that much).

“Awesome,” she said, beaming, and Ryan cracked a smile of his own. “Mind if I sit?” She asked, gesturing to the director's chair.

“Uh... sure. Go for it,” he answered and went back to his face paint.

“By the way, I'm Keltie. Keltie Colleen,” she said, watching as his fingers held the pencil, steadily etching designs. He glanced at her through the mirror, and then turned. “Urm... sorry for the James Bond-like introduction.” He laughed.

“I'm Ryan... Ross,” he said, sticking out his unoccupied hand to her-- Keltie.

“Nice to meet you, Ryan Ross,” she grinned, and he turned back to the mirror.

***

“Five minutes 'til,” one of the backstage hands called as he walked through the crowded area just off the stage.

Ryan pushed his fingerless glove down his arm and scratched at the skin, biting his lip and looking around. He caught the eye of the dancer, Keltie, before looking back down at his guitar.

Suddenly, Brendon was in front of him and talking. “Pete just sent us a text. Here.” Ryan looked at the screen that was thrust in front of his face. im gonna give u guys a gr8 intro wacth out ofor it better than you do bottles ur gonna rok or socks xo. It takes Ryan a second to read to decipher it.

“Yep, that's Pete alright,” Ryan laughs a little, rolls his eyes and smiles at Brendon who eagerly returns it with his own grin. “I don't think we're gonna have a repeat of the bottle incident, though.”

“You'd think he'd let it go, it's only been, what? Three days,” Brendon rolls his eyes, but he's smiling regardless. He pockets the sidekick, and turns to flounce back to center stage. Ryan clutches at the neck of the guitar, and takes a breath, trying to calm his thoughts. He looks up again, and sees Keltie standing there. She sees him and winks; Ryan looks back down at his guitar.

“... AND GREAT FRIENDS!...” Ryan suddenly hears Pete's voice, and he looks towards Brendon, who was just turning away from Keltie. Ryan saw him frown before he caught his eye and beamed at the guitarist.

Ryan's stomach dropped a little, but he blamed it on the nerves.


October 16, 2005; Nintendo Fusion Tour

Brendon was lying in his bunk, curtain open, laptop on stomach, reading through some of his e-mails when Ryan walked in and sat on the edge of the bunk across from him.

Brendon waited a moment before Ryan's staring became awkward and he groaned out a “yessssss?” to get his attention.

“Brendon, listen. I... I love you a lot...” Ryan sighed. Um... okay?

Brendon's eyebrows knitted together, and he pushed the laptop aside, sitting up directly across from him. “I love you, too, Ryan. What's the matter?”

“Brendon,” Ryan half-whined. “I can't... We can't... do this anymore.” Ryan waved his hands between them to explain himself before bringing one up to sift through his hair.

“Like... um... the sex?” Brendon asked. He didn't understand. They loved one another. They'd been going out for a three months, and he had secretly been pining for Ryan longer than that... he didn't get it.

“It's just that... the band. We need to stop this. I don't... the band, y'know?” Ryan fumbled, standing up and pacing. This was too melodramatic. He had prepared a speech; it was an amazing speech. But all his words were flying out of the window as Brendon's big brown eyes stared up at him. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to ignore the hurt that he saw there.

“No,” Brendon said quietly, whimpering just a bit, and Ryan cringed again. “I don't... I don't understand. We... I love you, Ryan.”

“Brendon, the band wouldn't survive if we were to break up. We need to stop this now, while we still can, before this gets too involved.”

Too late, Brendon thinks, but he doesn't trust his voice from cracking or shaking and showing just how hurt he is over this. Ryan's just standing there, wanting to end it all, and Brendon really can't believe that he made this decision on his own. He never imagined that Ryan would every consciously choose to hurt him the way he is now. The pain in his chest is getting stronger, and he can feel the burn of stomach acid in his throat. His eyes are burning, too, as he shuts them and takes a deep breath, throat drying at the contact with air. He's falling apart at the seems, but he just sits there.

Ryan stands up, fists his hands into his pockets, and stares at the carpet. “I'm so sorry, Brendon. I do love you. Please, just understand.” Ryan can't take it; he can't stand the hurt that seems to emanate off of Brendon in waves, like negative energy. He knows that this is the best decision they can make. He loves this band too much. He loves the music that he and Brendon make too much. He loves Brendon, but he can't sacrifice their band for... them.

“Okay, Ryan, just... okay,” Brendon scowls at the way his voice burns, like he knew it would. He brings his hands up rubbing at his eyes with his palms, fighting back the tears.

“It's for the band,” Ryan says again. Brendon sits there, hands resting on his eyes, breathing getting heavier by the second. Ryan sighs, and walks out of the room, hating himself. Hating that he destroyed what could have been. “It's for the band,” he whispers to himself as he walked off the bus and nearly plows into Brent and Spencer.

They have a show in an hour.


September 12, 2006: Panic! Tour Bus

It wasn't really a surprise that less than a month later Ryan and Keltie were going out. They were always talking on the phone, texting, e-mailing.

He always gets what he wants Brendon thought sardonically as he walked into the lounge where Ryan was once again chatting on the phone with... yeah, Keltie.

“Hold On,” He heard Ryan mumble into the phone. And then, “Do you want something Brendon?”

He didn't realize he'd been standing there so long. “Um, no not really.”

“Um, Okay,” Ryan answered. The could you just leave, please? lingered unsaid. Brendon sighed.

And sometimes he gets what he doesn't want he quickly amends before walking to the kitchenette.


January 28, 2006: Ambitious Ones and Smoking Guns Tour; Birmingham, UK

Brendon wasn't okay with it, with ending what he and Ryan had. But now everything was uncomfortable between them, and he'd rather nothing ever happened between them at all than to be here alone and without one of his best friends. It had been nearly four months, but things were still icy. Spencer tried to help them, and even Brent would attempt, sometimes, at getting them to talk like they used to, but nothing really worked.

“Hey, Brendon, let's play Guitar Hero or something,” Spencer said after the show that night, clapping a hand on his shoulder and giving him a sad smile. Spencer had found out about the break up exactly thirty seconds after it occurred, right after Ryan had stumbled off the bus and right into him.

“No, thanks,” Brendon mumbled, but he flashed a grin at him regardless. Spencer frowned at how obviously ingenuous the smile was. “I'm just gonna go to bed.”

“Okay, man, yeah,” he answered dejectedly, pulling Brendon into a hug, which he immediately went pliant for.

***

He pressed his face into his pillow to keep from sobbing out loud. You're so pathetic, the thought flit through his head, and he pressed farther into the pillow. He didn't really know what he was crying over, whether it was Ryan or the stress or the combined effort of performing with Ryan Ross and avoiding Ryan... but he had found himself in the same position nearly every night for nearly four straight months.

Brendon felt the light pour into his bunk, but he didn't move. He stayed still, hoping that the fabric of the pillow would absorb his tears before whoever was there made him talk. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he mumbled something into the pillow, directed towards his band mate.

He just wanted to be left alone. He wanted to be miserable alone.

“Bren,” he heard. His head shot up from the pillow and he shied away from the hand that had been petting at his back. It was Ryan. “Can I come in?” His voice was worn, and groggy, and Brendon considered for a second just telling him “no”, but then Brendon rolled over and pressed himself against the wall, leaving enough room for Ryan's small body to squeeze in and close the curtain back. Brendon really could never say no to Ryan.

“B, we're still friends, right?” Ryan asked quietly once they were in the dark. Brendon let out a breath, coming out almost as a whimper, still shaky from when he had been crying earlier. Ryan pressed himself closer to Brendon, who moved his arms to cradle Ryan to him.

“Yeah, Ryan, we're still friends,” Brendon answered, although he wasn't really sure himself. He wanted to be his friend. He still needed Ryan to be his friend.

“I miss us, Bren,” Ryan sighed, face nuzzling against the other boy.

“Me, too,” Brendon said, trying to suppress the hope that was suddenly bubbling in his chest. He didn't understand why Ryan would be twisting this knife into him. “You said we were over, Ryan. I thought that... I mean...?”

“I know, Bren, but I was thinking,” Ryan mumbled, and Brendon unconsciously held his breath. “Maybe... I miss us, the sex.” Ryan wound up repeating with a sigh. Brendon knew that sigh, the fill-in-the-blanks sigh, that Ryan saved only when he didn't want us to say something. Brendon was quiet for a moment, thinking.

“So... you want...” Brendon was slightly indignant. As much as he wanted Ryan to take his words back, take the break up and the heartache back, he knew that this wasn't what he meant.

“I thought that... y'know, sex relieves stress and sex won't break up the band.” Ryan mumbled wetly, lips pressed against Brendon's neck. It was absolutely unfair. “We could just... have sex, but not worry about dating and breaking up the band. Keep it... casual?”

“You want us to be friends with benefits?” Brendon deadpans, pushing Ryan away a bit so that he could search the older boy's face.

“More or less,” Ryan grumbled slightly before the corner of his mouth curled into a hopeful smile.

“So, how would that work?” Brendon asked slightly bitterly.

“Uh,” Ryan began eloquently, “Hotel nights... y'know. And... any other time you want. Just... sex. Like before, except, we wouldn't be dating. No feelings. No messy break ups...” He trailed off.

Brendon chewed on his lip. He wanted Ryan back; Ryan was like his nicotine, and he was hopeless, unable to even function without him. He needed to still be close to Ryan, even if just physically, even if it was just for sex.

“So, it'd just be... fucking,” Brendon mumbles, nearly flinching at his own use of words. And it hurt more than Brendon could understand when Ryan mumbled a quick, but confident “yeah.”

Brendon sighed. “Yeah, okay. Friends with benefits.”

Brendon really could never say no to Ryan.


September 23, 2006: New York; Headlining Tour

It was a Friday, and Keltie was visiting them while they were in New York. They were all sitting in the bus lounge, waiting right before sound check with nothing to do, but not being able to go anywhere too far. Spencer and Brendon were battling on Guitar Hero; Ryan and Keltie were sitting on the couch, socked feet entwined as Ryan attempted to write; Jon was on the phone with Cassie.
“Hey, Ryan, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Keltie asked quietly so that only he could hear, her head leaning against the back of the couch. His hand stilled for a second and she nudged his foot with hers. It wasn't a weird question, not really. Thanksgiving was in two months, sure, but it wasn't like Ryan and Keltie saw each other daily. Keltie wasn't sure when the next time they'd see each other would be, and she'd rather invite him in person; apparently, she was a masochist for awkward conversations.

“Uh, I don't know. Nothing probably. Um...” He trailed off.

“Oh.”

By this time, Brendon was eavesdropping intently, and Spencer cast him a look as he slowly took the lead in the game.
“I was just wondering if, you know, you wanted to come to New York then,” Keltie asked quietly. Brendon had to strain to hear. “I make awesome mashed potatoes.”
“Yeah,” Ryan said, but it sounded icy and a little withdrawn. He put down his pen and looked at her, pushing his foot against hers.
“If... y'know, if you were gonna celebrate with your own family... That's fine. I wouldn't want to take you away from them,” she forced a smile. Brendon stopped playing, breath stilled and waiting. Spencer nudged him once the game began emanating boos.
“Um... yeah. I don't... my dad...” Ryan struggled. It's not like Keltie knew. “It's...”
“Oh, do you usually celebrate with him?” Keltie asked meekly.

“Yeah, but... usually Spencer, he...” Ryan waved his hand vaguely before Spencer turned around, having heard his name.
“What, man?” He asks with a smile, “Did you see me just beat Brendon, THE Brendon Urie, at Guitar Hero?” Ryan's mouth twitched slightly.
“Um...” Keltie spit into the awkward silence, looking between Spencer and Ryan, eyes darting over to Brendon.
“I was just saying I... Thanksgiving... I was... y'know,” Ryan mumbled quietly.
“Oh,” Spencer said, suddenly realizing what they'd been talking about. “Yeah, Ryan you're totally welcome over for the turkey and dressing,” he supplies after a moment.
Keltie wasn't stupid. She knew when she wasn't being told something. “Well, I just... That's fine. You'll probably be on tour then anyway.” She fumbled. She hadn't even known the boy for two months, and here she had gone and invited him to Thanksgiving dinner; this was embarassing.
“Nope,” Brendon said matter of fact-ly. “Tour ends November seventeenth.” Spencer gave him a look, almost a glare, and told him that they needed to get to sound check.
“Jon?” Spencer asked his band mate who was still on the phone.
“Hold on a sec, babe,” he said to the phone before, “Yeah, Spence?”
“We need to get to sound check,” Spencer answered, motioning his head to the door. Jon looked between Ryan and Keltie then back to Spencer, who raised his eyebrow daring him to question him.
“Yeah, okay.”

“Spencer, we don't have to be there for another thirty minutes,” Brendon whines, and sits back down in his seat.

“Brendon Urie, get your ass up and come on,” Spencer hissed.

Brendon huffed, but there was a waver of fear in his voice when he answered, “Fine.” The three made their way off the bus and to the venue, Jon still talking on the phone, and Spencer guiding Brendon by the elbow as if he would bolt back to the bus at any second.

“So,” Keltie said once they had left, sighing a little and avoiding eye contact. “I didn't mean to make this awkward or whatever. You don't have to come Thanksgiving. I'm sure the Smiths would miss you.” She smiled at him, and he sighed.

“Um... I haven't told you this yet, and I guess... I dunno. My dad... last July,” Ryan's voice cracked. “I'll come to Thanksgiving with you.”

Keltie shifted across the couch and grabbed him in a hug. “What is it, baby?” she asked, carding her fingers through his hair and waiting for a response. Normally, pet names were a little weird to her, but it felt right just then.

“It's my first holiday without him,” Ryan whimpered into her shoulder. “It's not that we really celebrated much before, but at least we could kind of fake normalcy. I mean, technically it was normal for me. And I don't know what's going to happen. Because... he's not there, and he's always been there. And I know Spencer's family would be great and let me come to there's. But I'm going to get a bunch of sympathetic smiles, and I just want to forget about it. And... I don't know what... to do.”

“Shhhh,” Keltie said, pulling back to brush the hair out of his eyes. He wasn't sobbing, but his breathing was hard. “Take a deep breath.”

Ryan did; he breathed deeply, mimicking Keltie. She pulled him back into a hug. “You can do whatever you want. But you are most definitely welcome to my humble apartment, and we can make some new traditions,” she murmured into his hair.

“Thanks,” he sniffed, and nuzzled into her hair.

“And, as stated before, my mashed potatoes are kick-ass, so you'd be a lunatic not to come,” she said, poking him in the ribs. They rearranged themselves on the couch, talking and joking about nothing, just enjoying each other's touch, and only got up when Zack came to collect Ryan for sound check.



October 2, 2006: New Zealand; Panic! bus

That night, Brendon found himself outside of Ryan's bunk, pulling the curtain back slightly. Ryan was reading some book, and looked up to see Brendon. “Yes?”

Brendon climbed the older boys bunk, straddling him. “I think I need some stress relief,” Brendon whispered into Ryan's ear, smirking against the skin of his cheek as Ryan moaned under him.

Ryan's book was abandoned as his hands found their way to Brendon's chest, but then Brendon was being pushed away. He jerked his head up from Ryan's face, eyebrows dropping in confusion at the boy below him, who was now pushing him even harder, trying to get him off.

Brendon obliged and rolled to lay beside him, staring at the ceiling of the bunk. “Well, thanks,” he said bitterly.

“Brend,” Ryan watched him with wide eyes, “Keltie. I... we're going out now.”

No shit, Sherlock. Brendon really wanted to say, but then he figured Ryan wouldn't appreciate this.

“Oh,” he settled on mumbling. “I.. yeah.”

“Brendon, we just can't... I'm in a relationship now,” Ryan sighed. Brendon's heart clenched.

“Okay, Ry, yeah, I get it,” Brendon said. They were playing by Ryan's rules. Ryan wanted the 'benefits' and now he doesn't anymore. Ryan wants 'the band'. Ryan wants Keltie Colleen.

Brendon tumbles out of the bunk and moves back to his own, and makes sure to be extra loud as he jerks off. He hears the music humming out of Ryan's ear buds and smirks to himself before moaning and coming over his hand.


July 27, 2006: Give It A Name Tour

“We're going drinking tonight, Ry-buddy,” Jon said that night, wrapping his arm around Ryan's shoulder.

“To celebrate!” Spencer shouted, and it seemed as if he and Jon were already intoxicated.

“To celebrate what exactly?” Brendon laughed at the pair before joining Ryan and Jon on the couch.

“I 'unno,” Jon answered, “Maybe the fact that we're almost done with this tour... maybe because we played a fucking awesome show tonight?”

“Yeah, but we do still have a week left of touring,” Brendon told them, smiling. He looked at Ryan and mouthed 'our band mates are lunatics' at him. Ryan rolled his eyes, but still, he was grinning.

“So what?” Spencer laughed, “We can't celebrate a little... early?”

“You can do whatever you want, Spencer Smith,” Brendon laughed and stood up from the couch again. “I think I'm gonna stay in.”

“Awwww, Bren, you can't miss out on the fun.” Everyone looked toward Ryan. Ryan-- the antithesis of party boy-- who had just encouraged someone to... party.... without being sarcastic.

“Am I missing some of that Ross wit or are you serious?” Brendon quipped, laughed. He was half serious, half deeply disturbed and shaken, but he laughed it off.

“Serious,” Ryan answered, unfazed, “We need to celebrate.”

Spencer grabbed Ryan in a one arm hug and stumbled out of the bus, while Jon and Brendon followed, Brendon vaguely confused.

***

They were at some small pub where they could sneak their way in, since they weren't technically allowed to drink yet, not in the US. Spencer had hit the bar, Ryan in tow, once they were in the entrance, leaving Brendon and Jon still dragging behind. Jon went in search of a Jack Daniels, leaving Brendon to get his own drink.

Brendon went up to the bar and ordered, foot twitching along to the music coming from the live band in the corner. Zack was their “designated driver”, not that the bus was really that far away, and they didn't drive much regardless, but Brendon, if he wanted to, could really get shit-faced tonight. He soon abandoned the bar after a few drinks and went to find one of his band mates. He wasn't really an antisocial person, after all and he was getting bored.

He found Ryan sitting in a booth, sipping on what looked like a Long Island Ice Tea. His hands were wrapped around the glass, as if they mostly just needed something to do and he was twitching his pinkies against one another.

“Hey,” Brendon said, slipping in beside him.

“Hi,” Ryan says back, eyes shining at Brendon in his buzzed haze.

“Whatcha doin'?” Brendon asked, slinging an arm over Ryan's shoulder and nuzzling his neck.

“Drinking,” Ryan giggled quietly into Brendon's ear.

“I already drank,” Brendon explained, “Not too much. I don't like drunk... being... hangovers.”

“Me neither,” Ryan agreed, nodding. He leaned into the slightly more intoxicated boy beside him and tapped his fingers on his glass in front of him.

“C'mon,” Brendon finally said, pulling on his hand. Ryan followed him to the bus. The other guys didn't get in until later on in the morning.


July 28, 2006: Panic! At the Disco Tour Bus; 2:23pm

Ryan woke up to his phone obnoxiously blaring that morning, although technically it was two o'clock in the afternoon. He cringed at the sound before stumbling out of his bunk. He shielded his face away from the light that was filtering in through the blinds in the bus; he was still mildly exhausted and sporting a headache from the previous night. He rooted through his bag that was right outside his bunk, careful not to jostle the sleeping body next to him. He pulled on his boxers and a thin t-shirt, while answering the phone with a quick and quiet “hello?” He smiled at the figure in his bunk before going to the back lounge to take the call.

***

a week before the tour ended, we got the call in seattle that ryan's dad had suddenly died. his only close family. he was an only child and his mom was out of the picture. our hearts sank, we sat in the bus and all looked at each other at a loss for words. -Amanda Palmer


October 12, 2006: European Tour

One night Brendon walked into the front lounge where Spencer was playing guitar hero with Jon. Ryan was sitting on the couch, fingers traipsing over the keys of his sidekick.

“So I was thinking,” Brendon began, waiting for everyone's attention.

“Don't strain yourself,” Spencer didn't miss a beat, continuing to play the game. Ryan was still texting; Jon and Spencer were still consumed by the video screen. Brendon huffed.

“No, really,” Brendon insisted, “I was thinking about our stage show and I have some ideas.” He glanced at Ryan who was, not really ignoring him, but not making any pains to show enthusiasm either. Brendon sighed.

“Who you talking to, Ross?” He asked, watching the boy, tongue stuck out in concentration. Brendon leaned over and looked at the screen I miss u 2 babe <3 Ry... “Keltie,” Brendon mumbled to himself.

“Okay, fine, I'm buying ten cases of Red Bull at the next stop unless you people listen to me,” Brendon finally whined, crossing his arms and pouting.

“What's your idea, Brendon?” Jon sighed, setting the control down and turning to his bandmate.

“Wellllllllll,” Brendon began, “I was thinking about adding a skit to the show, to sort of spice things up, give it more of a theatrical appeal.”

“Continue,” Ryan says, letting his phone hit his lap. Brendon rolled his eyes, but went on with his idea nonetheless.

***

Later, after a quick brainstorming session that turned into a two hour band meeting, Ryan caught Brendon's wrist as he was about to leave. “Brendon,” he sighed. “This... the thing, it... You don't still have feelings for me, right?”

Brendon simply stared back at him, making sure not to bite his lip. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean... we agreed that we would let the... past go. And... I don't know if this is the best idea... for that.”

“I'm okay with it if you are.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“D'you need to ask your girlfriend?” And even though he didn't really mean for it to, it still came out as a snarl.

Ryan dropped his wrist and went back to his bunk, drawing the curtain closed.

When Keltie heard the idea, she laughed.

August 25, 2006; Reading Festival

He made it through the show, the whole thing. Even with the audience screaming, making his headache throb, and with Ryan shooting him sympathetic glances every time he caught his eye.

The second they were offstage, Ryan put a hand around him, guiding him to the bus. They finally made it to the safety of the bus, away from the concerned fans and the media's cameras and questions. Once they're in the bus, Brendon dove at the couch, the unbruised half of his face smushed against the tweed material.

“You tired, B?” Ryan asked him uncertainly while Spencer went to get advil and Jon went to get an icepack. Then Ryan saw the tear rolling down his face.

Brendon feels Ryan sitting down on the edge of the couch, his side pressed against Brendon's. “It hurts, Ryyyyy,” he whines, and he meant it to be more comical, but it comes out sounding broken and truly pathetic.

Ryan's hand is at his back, rubbing as he whispers a quiet, “shhhh.” Brendon squinted his “good eye” open as he felt a press against his hurting eye; It was Ryan's lips. He pulled back slightly and caught Brendon's eye, smiling at him before placing a quick peck on Brendon's forehead. Spencer comes in the room with advil and water, which Brendon graciously accepts.

***

Ryan has to make sure that Brendon is real, that he's not going anywhere. Brendon held him afterwards, whispering, “I'm not going to leave you, Ryan. I'm right here.”

“I'm right here, too, Brendon,” Ryan answered, voice muffled in Brendon's skin. Brendon entertained the idea for a second, but let it fall away. He knew that Ryan didn't mean it like he wanted it. Ryan was here, but not in the way Brendon wanted or needed. It wasn't his Ryan, not anymore. He wasn't allowed to love him or want him anymore. They were just friends now. But no matter how many times Brendon reminded himself of that fact, he couldn't actually comprehend it.

Brendon sighed and managed to whisper, “I know,” to a snoring Ryan. “I love you,” he pressed into his hair.

May 2008: Honda Civic Tour; New York, NY

Keltie comes to the venue early that morning, about ten minutes after the tour buses roll in, and the equipment is being unloaded.

Brendon is expecting it, and when the blonde walks through the doorway, he doesn't even move, just keeps flipping through the magazine in his lap. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Ryan hugging her, then his hand splayed on her back, introducing her to Shane who was in the corner.

Brendon takes a Capri Sun that was beside him on the counter and stabs it with the straw.

“Hey Brendon,” he hears, but he ignores her. Does she honestly expect him to answer her? “Ummm, Brend?”

Apparently she does. He sets his drink down and looks up at her. “Yes, Keltie?” he snarls, and he's not even sorry for it. He wants the venom to be on his voice. He just wants her to go away.

“Hi?” she tries, eyebrows knitted in confusion at his sour mood. Ryan kind of glares at him from behind her, and Brendon smirks.

“Oh, okay,” Brendon says before standing up and moving to sit on the couch beside Spencer.

The rest of the time before sound check lasted like that. Brendon glaring, Ryan glaring; Keltie caught in the middle, confused. Brendon notices when Ryan and Keltie leave, then returning a few minutes later.

Then Keltie's hand was wrapped around his wrist and she was pulling him out of the dressing room, throwing a “Give us a minute.” over her shoulder. Once they were out of the room, Brendon wrenched his arm away from her, and rubbed at his wrist.

“What do you think you're doing?” Brendon hissed, glaring.

“Brendon,” Keltie huffed, “Stop being such a jerk. This is killing Ryan. And I'm getting pretty pissed off, too.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? Are you serious?” Keltie almost squealed. “Okay, Brendon, look. This whole day, you've been glaring at me. You won't even talk to Ryan. I'm just... Brendon, you can't keep on doing it. You're going to rip the band apart.”

“Oh, is that all I'm doing?” Brendon dropped his hand and clenched his fists by his side. “You're not even in the band, so you might as well just shut the fuck up. And as for Ryan, this is what he wanted, okay? So don't tell me that it's hurting him because he's the one that did it in the first place, and--”

“Brendon?” Keltie asked quietly. “What are you talking about?”

Brendon groaned. Of course he hasn't told Keltie, of course. They “agreed” to break up for the band, to save the band, and hell if it isn't the very thing that drives the band apart.

“This is just too fucking ironic,” Brendon sighs.

“Just get over him, okay?” Keltie says before backing away and returning to the dressing room.


April 7, 2007: Cabin

Ryan and Brendon were in the living room of the cabin, guitar and bass on their laps, respectively, papers strewn around Ryan. Spencer Jon and Shane, their camera man, had gone out hiking a few minutes ago. Apparently, they wanted to “experience their surroundings and get in touch with nature” or something like that. They'd lived on a tour bus for over a year, so neither Brendon nor Ryan really questioned them.

“Y'know, we could be using this empty cabin for much more fun things,” Brendon said, waggling his eyebrows. “Spencer and Jon won't be back for hours.”

“Ha. Ha. I don't know why you're using that excuse now. Their presence never stopped you before.” Ryan rolled his eyes and jotted down a note on his sheet music.

“I'm an exhibitionist, what can I say? You've shared a bus with me, Ryan. Get with the program,” Brendon laughed.
“The program would be us trying to fix these chords,” Ryan answered. “Hey, look over these lyrics while I do this.” More papers were produced from the pile and thrust towards Brendon.

A few seconds later and Brendon was snorting, trying to keep down the laughter trying to bubble its way up.

Ryan looked up amused at first, but then scowled when he realized what he was laughing at. “What?” he snapped, ripping the papers from Brendon's hands and placing them behind him protectively.

“Nothing Ry, it's just... is that about Keltie?”

“So what if it is?” Ryan defended. “This is an album about love, right? ... I love her.”

“Yeah, I get that. It's just... don't you think these are a little... cheesy?” Brendon asked motioning towards the papers that were now hiding.

“No.” Ryan deadpanned. Brendon sighed.

“Fine, fine. Go on and sing your love song, Ross,” Brendon said, strumming the bass in his hands.

“Brendon,” Ryan sighed.

“Yes?” He asked innocently, looking up at his friend.

“Stop it,” Ryan said, shaking his head and straightening up his papers to keep himself busy.

“Stop... what exactly?” Brendon asked.

Ryan huffed. “Stop taking this so personally. I love Keltie. Get over it.”

Brendon's eyes slitted. “What makes you think that I even care?”

“I know you, Brendon,” Ryan pursed his lips.

“Oh, you know me so well, huh? That still doesn't mean... what makes you think that you know anything about love?” Brendon challenged.

“Brendon, can we please not go over this again.” Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No,” Brendon said snippily. “If you get to accuse me of things, then I get to question you.”

“I love Keltie,” Ryan said forcefully, setting his guitar down and walking to his room. Brendon huffed to the empty room.


April 20, 2007: Cabin

Ryan was a diva... is a diva. So, it wasn't really a surprise to Brendon that when he came home (well, to the cabin, but they had started calling it home since the first three days) from getting some groceries and making sure that civilization still existed, he found a Jon and Spencer sitting on the couch, drinking Jack Daniels and watching some weird show on television: an obvious sign of a Ryan Ross bitch fit.

“Hey guys,” Brendon announced, taking the groceries and placing them on the kitchen table. He walked back into the room where half the band was, and lingered by the side of the couch. “What happened to Ross?”

“I dunno,” Jon said, as he looked up at Brendon, but really, he was kind of looking at the wall past Brendon; Brendon noticed, but didn't comment.

“Jon said something or I think... why don't you go ask him?” Spencer said with a smile before turning his attention back to the show.

Brendon sort of huffed and turned to the hallway where all the bedrooms were.

“Ryan?” Brendon asked, slowly thumping his knuckles against the door frame. “You okay?”

“Leave me alone, Brendon!” met him through the door. And... okay, what?

“Seriously, Ry. What happened? I come home to find you holed up in your room and the beard twins completely oblivious,” Brendon answered, smiling a little at his joke. They had all attempted to grow their facial hair out over the cabin days. Jon and Spencer have some weird growing-facial-hair ability, as opposed to Brendon, who had a light mustache and a bit of scruff after a week.

“Brendon. Go. The. Fuck. Away.”

“Ryyyyyannnnnnnnnn!” Brendon was pouting now. “I just wanted to see if you were okay!”

“I'm fine. Talking to Keltie. Leave.” well

Brendon stomped at the ground before trudging back to the living room, throwing himself on the couch and crossing his arms. “He's talking to Keltie Colleen and I had to Get the fuck away,” He announces, glaring at the tv.

“Dude, they're probably having phone sex or something,” Spencer laughs a second before Jon cuts in a beat later, laughter bubbling from his chest.

Brendon's band mates are jerks. He tries to glare at them but really... “Phone sex? In the cabin? Why haven't there been rules for this?”

“You're just upset 'cause you ain't gettin' none,” Jon tosses out playfully. ouch

“Yeah,” Brendon sighed, looking down at the ground.

“Awww, Jon. Brendon looks like a little kicked puppy,” Spencer cooed.

“Fuck You, Spencer Smith,” Brendon hissed, and barreled to his own room, huffing as he passed the door to the room where Ryan was.

***

Someone knocked on Brendon's door later that night, the accompanied whisper of “It's Spencer” made Brendon cringe a little bit. Most of his anger had deflated by now, but he was still upset. Before he could answer, Spencer had pushed his way into the room, hovering near the door frame. He eyed Brendon a little as if he would snap at him any moment.

Brendon sighed, “Come in.” and Spencer walked into the room, visibly more relax, and sat on Brendon's bed.

“There was this one time in seventh grade,” he said quietly, no preamble. “And Ryan, he had gotten pretty beaten up... y'know.” And Brendon did know. It wasn't obvious when he first met the boy-- he had bruises on his arms, frequent scrapes and scars. But Ryan was young, and he was fragile-looking, easy to bruise... and there had been that whole skateboarding then a few years prior, too. Brendon had never thought to ask. Brendon hadn't known about the abuse when he first met them, but once he did find out, a lot of things had made sense.

“Yeah, I know,” Brendon whispered, eyes searching Spencer's face.

“Well, that night, he didn't come to me-- to my house,” Spencer explained, turning his gaze to Brendon. There was silence for a few seconds.

“Um... I don't understand,” Brendon said, quirking an eyebrow. Spencer sighed.

“He always came to me, for anything. We had known each other for so long. We were best friends, nearly brothers... and he didn't come to me,” Spencer said, but Brendon was still confused. “Ryan, he... He loves you. Maybe just as a friend, but he does love you, Brendon.” And Brendon wondered what he had to do with anything.

“He... uh... I didn't know him when he was thirteen. He didn't come to my house?” Brendon tried.

“Brendon, I know that,” Spencer sighed. “What I'm trying to say is that just because Ryan didn't come to you when he was upset... just because he went to Keltie doesn't mean that you should be angry at him or upset over whatever it is you're upset over.”

“I'm not... not upset with him... or anything. I'm not angry,” Brendon whispered.

“Brendon, it's obvious. Don't lie.”

“Spencer? What are you trying to say?” Brendon huffed, he didn't need his cryptic drummer trying to give him lessons on Ryan Ross.

“I'm trying to say that Ryan needs to get away from things sometimes. It's not because he hates you, that's not why he went to Keltie. But... Keltie isn't on tour. Keltie's in New York, away from this, away from us.”

“Away from me; she isn't me.” She's better than me.

“No, Brendon, no. Keltie gives him a break from this, from the same thing all the time. The same people, the same monotony of touring.”

“So, we're not enough,” Brendon says, noting how bitter the 'we' sounds because he really means I'm not enough. Brendon's had this conversation in his head with himself already. He knows who wins, who's right.

“Brendon, you're enough, okay? It's just that, Ryan... Ryan doesn't like to put all his... well, faith in one person. He's been betrayed before; it's like his defense mechanism,” Spencer says quietly, and Brendon doesn't know if it's because Spencer thinks he's giving away Ryan's secrets, or if it's because Spencer's still hurt, still trying to convince himself.

“I'm not going to betray him,” Brendon mumbles.

“I know. None of us are. He's just... Ryan is a deep person. I don't think he even knows how deep he is sometimes,” Spencer sighs.

“Spencer,” Brendon says and waits for him to look up, “I don't need Ryan Ross Psychology 101. I'm not angry.” Spencer gives him a look. “I'm not angry anymore, okay? I promise. Thanks.” Brendon gives him a tight hug.

June 10, 2008; Las Vegas, NV: Honda Civic Tour

The last few shows of the Honda Civic Tour are that week, and then they get a month or two off before doing another headlining tour. It's an off season or something, and Keltie decides to visit... again.

Spencer, Jon, Ryan and Brendon are all sitting in Ryan's living room, watching a movie and waiting until that night to get to the venue for the show.

When the door bell rang and Ryan went to answer the door, Brendon sighed and pushed himself off the couch.

“I'm gonna take a nap or something,” Brendon told Spencer and Jon, who both frowned at him a little, before going back to one of the guest rooms.

He had only managed to jump into the bed before there was a knock at the door. Brendon lifted his head from the pillow to mutter a “Come in.”

“Hey, Bren.” It was her. It was like he couldn't get away from her no matter what he tried. She was always there, and when she wasn't, Ryan was always there, reminding him. Brendon didn't say anything, but instead went back to checking the messages on his phone. Keltie walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“What?” Brendon muttered, turning his head to look at her, face still sandwiched in the pillows.
“Nothing,” she sighed. “It's, uh, kinda overdo, but I just wanted to say I'm sorry.”
“Ryan put you up to this didn't he?” He asked, eyes slitting.
“No,” Keltie replied sadly, and most of Brendon's anger seeped out of him.
“I forgive you,” he sighed, sitting up and opening his arms for the girl.
“Thanks. I didn't mean what I said. Y'know, about you and Ryan, mainly about you,” she mumbled into his neck.
“It's okay, but you were kinda right.”

“He really loves you,” she said sympathetically.

“Why does everyone keep telling me this?” Brendon huffed, “Yet Ryan is still in there giving me the silent treatment.”

“He's just confused,” she sighed.

“Well, he's not the only one,” Brendon snapped, but his posture was anything but hostile. He was hunched over into himself, and Keltie vaguely thought of a kicked puppy before her hand was on his back, rubbing.

“Brendon,” Keltie said again, waiting for his attention. His hands were focused on ripping a piece of thread from his pajama bottoms, and she wasn't sure if he was just distracted or attempting to ignore her. “Brendon,” she repeated, her hand drifting to his shoulder and tugging lightly. He looked up at her. “Ryan told me about the two of you. Like... your relationship before.” There was a minute of silence.

“Oh,” Brendon said, not really because he was surprised, but mostly because she was expecting a response. So what did he care if Ryan went around talking about how hopelessly Brendon was in love? “And what exactly did Mister Ryan Ross say to you about us?” he asked bitterly.

“That you two used to be dating,” she said carefully, hand gently massaging at his shoulder. “And that you had to break up because of the band,” she added.

“Oh, yes. Yeah, there was a gun to Ryan's head and he just had to break up with me right then and there or else the world would implode,” Brendon growled. He could be dramatic when he wanted to be.

“Brendon, it really hurt him to do it,” she whispered, knowing it would set him off.

“I'm sure it did. That's why he walked out of the room and ignored me for three weeks before Spencer finally made him talk to me, hmmm?” He was getting upset all over again. He had dealt with the breakup before by being depressed, and now all of the feelings that he had been suppressing for so long were beginning to bubble over.

“Brendon, think about it for a minute, okay?” she urged him.

“Think aboutwhat, Keltie?”

“Think about how much this band means to him; how much music means to him; how much-- no matter how often you deny it-- how much you mean to him,” Keltie listed, waiting for a moment before continuing with, “You know him. You've even known him longer, Brendon. Think.”

Brendon huffed.

“Brendon,” Keltie said sternly. He just wasn't getting it. “He felt like if he ever lost you, he'd lose the whole band.”

“He could have had all of me. He does have all of me.” Brendon dragged his hand down his face, rubbing his eyes.

“He'd rather just make music with you than have it all fall through at once,” Keltie said plainly.

“That's stupid,” Brendon muttered. He knew that it was true. It all made sense in Ryan Ross Psychology 101 where normalcy was nonexistent. But he had to fight, to prove her wrong.

“I didn't say that it made any sense. But you know it's true,” she sighed, carding her fingers through his hair. “You need to talk to him.”

“I will,” he promised with a sigh. “And Keltie?”

“Yeah, Bren?” her hand stilled for a second.

“I'm sorry,” he said, and raised himself up and pulled her into a hug.

“It's okay,” she said. She knew what he was talking about.

July 15, 2007: Las Vegas, NV; Palms Recording Studio

Brendon meant to talk to Ryan, he really did. But it just never came up. And he knew that he couldn't just not do it, and putting it off was getting harder as the days sped by. Keltie had told Jon and Spencer, and they weren't going to let him get out of it. Jon was giving him looks every time they were together. And Spencer... At the moment, Spencer was jerking his head in Ryan's direction, not so stealthily threatening Brendon with his bitch face.

“Spencer?” Ryan asked after a moment, “Are you okay?”

“Ummm... yeah. I just. I've got a kink... in my neck. I'm gonna go and... Jon! You wanna come with me, man?”

“Yeah, let's go. We'll see you guys in a little bit.”

“Maybe I can help you guys, too,” Brendon said as they were almost out of the studio, anxious to escape the awkward silence of being alone with Ryan. Spencer just slammed the door in his face.

“Brendon, we need to talk,” Ryan mumbled from behind him. Brendon slowly turned around to face him and sighed. So much for his plan to avoid Ryan at all costs.

“Yeah, yeah we do,” Brendon agreed, sitting on the couch across from Ryan, waiting.

“Keltie said that she talked to you,” Ryan said quietly, eyes down, hands brushing imaginary dirt off of his lap.

“She did,” Brendon said and winced at how icy it sounded. He cleared his throat. “She, uh, she said that you guys talked, too.”

“Yeah,” Ryan confirmed quietly. There was a painfully awkward silence before Brendon cleared his throat again.

“Well, there's been a lot of talking to Keltie going on lately, huh?” Brendon joked, chuckling nervously.

Ryan looked up at him. “She told me about... Well, I mean. I'm sorry.”

“About what?” Brendon asked. He wanted him to be sorry for so many things. He had waited to hear this so many times. He needed to make sure that Ryan knew what he was sorry for. He didn't want another meaningless apology.

“I'm sorry that I confused you so much. That I just assumed that you were okay with our, um, relationship. With being friends with benefits,” Ryan winced at his own words. “I should have known that you weren't comfortable. But, I was being selfish. I didn't mean to make it worse. Just... this whole thing. I do love you, but I don't think I've been showing you that.”
Ryan sighed again, looking over at Brendon, who didn't meet his gaze, he continued, “I really care about you, and I've been putting you through so much, and... I guess I kept denying it. I don't know, Keltie... man, I don't know how I could have been ignorant.”

He really didn't know what else to say, and instead of rambling any more, he looked over to his friend. “Brendon?” Ryan whispered, searching Brendon's face for some answer.

“I really wanna hug you right now,” Brendon sniffed, voice small and sad. Ryan's heart dropped and he found himself smushed against Brendon in a matter of seconds, barely able to breathe but feeling so much more free than he had in a long time.

“I'm sorry, too, Ry,” Brendon mumbled, moving to press himself to Ryan. “I should have told you that... y'know, it made it harder for me to get over you. I love you.”

***

Things got better. A lot better than they ever had been, in fact. Ryan and Brendon had finally laid it all open and... even though there was hurt, there was more love than anything.

Hell had no fury like a woman who was angry; that's what Brendon had heard. Keltie was more than that; she was more than Ryan's girlfriend; she just... was. Brendon's jealousy had gotten the better of him, the better of Ryan. Anger, so much anger, had seeped into him.

And somehow, Keltie... she was no longer “The Enemy”; she was no longer the brick wall keeping him from Ryan; she was no longer his bane of existence. She was what broke and repaired his relationship with Ryan, all in one breath. It wasn't easy, but somehow Keltie had managed it. She was a miracle, and Brendon was happy that she could have Ryan, even if Brendon couldn't.

He loved Ryan. Maybe he was trying to change the way that he loved Ryan, but at least he had him back and they weren't fighting. And as long as he was making music and touring the world with his best friends, Brendon thought he could live with anything and everything being for the band.

The End.

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