Team Jon: All is Fair in Love and War [1/7]
The Strip



* * *


Brendon sighed when he opened the door to his dressing room, exhausted, to see the television on and blaring. The noise seemed louder to his tired ears, and when they focused enough to make out what the thin blonde was saying, it only made him sigh again. “Next on Entertainment Tonight we have a special behind the scenes look on the hit television sensation The Strip,” the woman said. Brendon vaguely remembered her name started with an M, or maybe an N. From the time that he had to go on the show to publicize his series.

He shook his head wearily, but sunk down into the plush couch and settled down to watch, too tired to change the channel, and if he was honest, a little bit interested in what would be said about him.

The camera cut from the host to show a montage of various clips from the show, and Brendon cringed at his hairstyle from season one. He still didn’t know how they got him to agree to a bowl cut - - it didn’t convey boy-next-door as much as it screamed boy-with-no-fashion-sense. Still, Brendon admitted to himself, he did look hot despite it all. Probably too hot to play the lovable good boy, president of the Mathletes and head candy striper, although fellow cast mate Greta certainly didn’t exactly fit the mold of the nerdy band geek either, and she was one of the fans’ favorites. After Brendon, of course. And Ryan.

“You’ve all heard of The Strip,” a deep, finely accentuated voiceover began, “but today we’re taking you behind the scenes, behind the drama, and behind the gossip.”

Brendon laughed to himself, vibrating shocks running through his body, as consecutive scenes of cat fights, school yard brawls, and scuffling tiffs from the four seasons played in a montage. Most of the scenes involved Tony, the well-muscled jock fighting with their school’s rival quarterback, Chad McLure, but a couple of flashes showed Keltie, the pristine blonde head cheerleader, pulling Greta’s hair after she had kissed Brendon’s character at the prom.

Brendon’s own face was missing from the first part of the montage, but he knew what was coming. Sure enough, mere seconds later his own face popped on screen, tussling on the ground, legs kicking wildly, as he held down a skinny, wiry-looking boy with bright, coal-lined eyes and side swept bangs. The clip played out a couple of seconds before stopping, freezing just when the boy underneath Brendon had flailingly struck his fist against Brendon’s face, causing his head to snap back and his mouth to form in a perfect O.

“You’ve all seen the show,” the voiceover continued. “The series, centered around upper class Las Vegas teenagers, has become an overnight sensation and a pop culture phenomenon. The intense drama is what draws viewers back week after week, but as Entertainment Tonight has exclusively learned, more often than not, that drama isn’t just for the cameras.”

The camera mercifully changed from Brendon’s pained expression to cut to an interview with Keltie Colleen, lead actress of The Strip, and Brendon grimaced as she spewed out what he knew to be a well-rehearsed and carefully formulated story. “Working on The Strip is great,” she said, smiling widely at the camera, and despite himself, Brendon could tell exactly why America fell in love with her. “Sometimes things just get kinda intense on set. It’s no secret that on the show, Kyle, who is played by Brendon Urie, and Daniel, who is played by Ryan Ross, don’t really get along. Sometimes hostilities carry over.” She winked coyly.

The camera turned and Brendon saw the host of Entertainment Tonight smiling plastically at Keltie through the monitor. “Some people have speculated that perhaps hostilities aren’t the only thing that has carried over to real life,” she said. “Rumor has it that Brendon and Ryan are fighting over your affections. Very much like their characters do on the show.”

Keltie expertly dropped her head, flicking her long bangs over her eyes, and smiled. “That’s very interesting,” she said, and Brendon knew what she said was enough to fuel the rumor mill even more, causing enough hype for the show to secure another season.

“It all started when Ryan Ross joined the cast of The Strip in the middle of its second season,” the host said, now cutting away from prerecorded interviews and once again relying on background images of cut together scenes from the series. “Right after the lovable good-boy-next-door Kyle finally won the heart of uber popular, but secret sweetheart, Ashley, Ross’ Daniel Furrer came to town. From the get go, his good looks and mysterious ways enraptured Ashley Kendal and America. For a season and a half, the tension between Kyle and Daniel has become a staple storyline of The Strip. As long as Ashley remains torn between the two heartthrobs, viewers can expect to see more fights and fallouts.”

Suddenly, on the screen, the host’s stiff-looking face broke out into a pretty painful-looking smirk that Brendon figured was supposed to let the audience know that she was letting them all in on a pretty big secret, and behind her, Brendon could see a picture of himself and Ryan that must have been taken last weekend when they were at a club.

“The real life animosity between costars Urie and Ross has been the talk of Hollywood for the past several months now, and Entertainment Tonight has exclusively learned that the two young stars were seen viciously arguing on Saturday night at the popular night club Angels and Kings.”

Brendon studied the picture up on the television screen. Ryan’s hands were placed firmly on his cocked hips, his face hard and eyes icy. Brendon’s own hands were thrown up in the air, showing his anger and annoyance. Despite whatever the critics might say, they really were good actors. “According to fellow club goers, both Ross and Urie didn’t bother to hide their fighting.”

Brendon scoffed. Of course they didn’t. That would have defeated the whole point.

“Adding further fuel to the fire,” the host went on and Brendon’s throat constricted as a picture of Ryan appeared on screen, a close-up of him laughing, head thrown back carelessly, in a tight v-neck, and he could see the marks decorating his pale skin, “the day afterward, Ross was seen sporting violent-looking marks, further confirming the rumor of a Ross-Urie fist fight.”

Brendon sighed a breath of relief at the words and the media’s easy acceptance and ignorance. Behind him, he heard the door to his dressing room open, and when he turned back, he could see Ryan leaning against the partially open door.

Ryan smiled as he looked over at Brendon who was now slumped against one of the sofa’s plush pillows. “What are you watching?” Ryan asked, eyes flitting up to take in the television screen where images of Brendon and Ryan were still filtering past.

Reaching for the remote, Brendon smirked back at Ryan before he turned off the television. “Just some stupid special on ‘the real life drama’ of The Strip’s two hot leading men.” He rolled his eyes as he raised his fingers up, adding ridiculous quotations and holding back a snort of laughter.

“Oh, so I guess the paparazzi did see the club thing after all,” Ryan mused as he closed the door to Brendon’s dressing room before locking it with a quick turn of his wrist. “Good.”

Brendon raised his eyes at Ryan’s locking of the door but didn’t say anything, just watched as the older boy walked across the room, long legs carrying him gracefully, until he was right in front of Brendon, staring down at him.

“It would have been terrible if we had to go through all that shit for nothing,” Ryan continued, his eyes sweeping down across Brendon’s face, lingering noticeably at his lips.

Brendon noticed and his full lips stretched into an amused grin. “Yes, I guess it would have been,” he agreed. He reached out a hand and grabbed for one of Ryan’s dangling by his sides, weaving his fingers between Ryan’s long digits. “You know,” he said, “I hate fighting with you.”

Ryan’s eyes flitted down to where his hand was now intertwined with Brendon’s and he bit his lower lip, musing, “Really now?”

“Uh huh.” Brendon nodded as he tugged at Ryan’s arm, pulling the other boy closer to him. Ryan huffed slightly in faux annoyance, but allowed himself to be pulled down next to Brendon on the couch, both boys reclining against the same overstuffed pillow. “You’re too pretty to fight with.”

“I think you mean devastatingly handsome,” Ryan corrected, allowing his body to relax and mold against Brendon’s.

“Nope,” Brendon said, his voice taking on a lyrical quality. He hummed and kissed Ryan’s neck before singing in his ear, “You’re so pretty.”

Ryan wrinkled his nose up but didn’t press the issue any further, and instead conceded, adding, “You’re pretty pretty too, Bren.”

However, Brendon simply laughed and snuggled up against the curve of Ryan’s neck. “You better believe it.”

“You’re impossible,” Ryan laughed.

Brendon nodded seriously. “But I’m sexy so it’s okay.”

Ryan grinned before leaning down slightly to join his lips with Brendon’s, eyes fluttering shut as he gave into the slow, simple movements of their mouths. He pulled back a little, and Brendon’s heart jumped as he watched Ryan slowly open his eyes, fragile lashes dancing against his skin before his eyes met Brendon’s. “I hate it too,” Ryan said sincerely as his right hand came up to brush Brendon’s hair out of his face.

“Hmm?” Brendon questioned, leaning into the slight caress of Ryan’s palm.

“Fighting with you,” Ryan clarified. “I hate it too.”

Brendon sat up, leaning against his one arm, and looked at Ryan, dark brown eyes staring widely.

“I know it’s to help the show, to keep people interested and all that, but I still don’t think its fair that you and I have to publically have it out just so we get picked up for another season.” His voice was serious and his eyes, Brendon realized, suddenly looked sad. Ryan closed those sad eyes and burrowed his head back further into the pillow, tilting his face to the side, towards Brendon who could see faint worry lines decorating Ryan’s forehead faintly.

“Hey,” Brendon breathed quietly as he leaned his forehead against Ryan’s. “It’s okay, Ry. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s all just for show.” His words caused Ryan’s long bangs to ripple slightly against his forehead, but he didn’t open his eyes. Brendon allowed his own to close and he breathed in tune with Ryan, their foreheads still lightly touching.

They laid there for a moment in silence and Ryan’s arms wound their way around Brendon, pulling them closer together, flush up against each other.

“Still,” Ryan said, breaking the silence, “I wish the producers used some other tactic.”

“Well, they did want you to date Keltie,” Brendon reminded Ryan. He was rewarded with an eye roll. “Not too far off of what people are saying now, actually,” he realized. “Although now people think that we’re fighting over her.

Ryan let out a sharp laugh, “You and me fighting over a girl. Ridiculous.”

Brendon pushed lightly at Ryan. “Hey, don’t give me that. I’ll have you know that I am a girl magnet. Girls throw their panties at me. I am a sex god and my name is spoken among women in hushed whispers.”

“I’m not debating the fact that you’re desirable, Bren,” Ryan said as he lightly nipped at Brendon’s earlobe, proving his point. “I was merely saying that it’s ridiculous to think that you and I would fight over a girl.”

“‘Cause I’d totally win,” Brendon said, suppressing a moan as Ryan began to work the soft skin of his earlobe between his teeth. “And, you’re gay,” he said, suddenly whispering without even noticing, falling once again into the well-established plan of the producers. The fact was only known on set - - by some, but it was never talked about. And while Ryan’s sexuality may have been somewhat common knowledge among the cast and crew, Brendon was only known as straight. Completely straight.

Brendon felt a shiver run up his spine and turned his head whispering, “And you’re with me,” before capturing his lips in a hot kiss, allowing his tongue to snake into Ryan’s mouth and beckon out a moan.

When Ryan had joined the cast a year and a half ago, Brendon had initially been on his guard. He didn’t need some guy coming onto his set and stealing his spotlight, especially some guy that for some reason made Brendon blush red with every glance and caused his heart to beat faster with a single grazing touch. At first, Brendon had tried to stay away from Ryan, only being near him when scenes demanded it, suddenly afraid of what the new actor was doing to him, how he was making him feel.

“Just think,” Brendon said hotly against Ryan’s lips, “if I didn’t get drunk at the end of the season party for season two, that lady from Entertainment Tonight could have been right about us. If you hadn’t found me and I hadn’t kissed you… God, I don’t even know what I was thinking then, but I just had to. If none of that had happened, then she could have been right and we would have ended up hating each other.”

“I never hated you, Bren,” Ryan said and he pulled back but allowed his fingers to dance over the exposed expanse of Brendon’s neck. “If anything, I thought you hated me.”

Brendon grinned and ducked his head to nip against Ryan’s collarbone. “Never,” he assured the older boy. “I never hated you. Never. I was just scared by you, by what you made me feel.”

Ryan pushed himself against Brendon and let out a breathy sigh. “And what would that be?” he asked, arching his neck to allow more room for Brendon’s roaming lips and tongue.

“Lust,” Brendon said as he allowed his tongue to trail up Ryan’s neck. “I wanted you so bad,” he said, mouth hovering above his skin, mere centimeters from Ryan’s lips. “Wanted to kiss you - - wanted, fuck,” he added, giving in and pressing his lips to Ryan’s, greedily opening up his mouth and pulling the other boy even closer, hips suddenly lined up perfectly. A combined groan passed through their joined lips and Brendon smirked when he pulled back, feeling Ryan against him. “At least I’m not the only one hard here.”

Ryan didn’t reply but simply brought their lips firmly back together, hooking his leg around Brendon’s and tilting up against him, causing a low moan to break free. He rolled himself overtop the younger boy and grinned down as Brendon’s hips cantered up. Brendon hungrily explored Ryan’s mouth as Ryan grinded down against him, and he brought his arms up to wrap around the boy before letting one of his hands slide slowly down Ryan’s back, stopping at his waistline and teasingly running his fingers under the tight band.

“Brendon,” Ryan gasped against his lips, and Brendon smiled as Ryan trailed wet kisses down his neck and circled his tongue around in small circles lovingly before biting down harshly, drawing back, and bringing his lips back to soothe the skin with a sweet suction.

Ryan ground more frantically against him and Brendon suppressed a moan with each delicious moment of pressure. His fingers tapped out a simple rhythm against the smooth skin beneath Ryan’s waistband before he pushed his hand down, skin fighting against the tight fabric, and he palmed at Ryan’s ass, cupping his hand and pulling Ryan, if possible, closer against himself.

Suddenly, a loud knock on the door froze both Ryan and Brendon’s frenzied motions, and they turned in unison to stare at the still-closed door before quickly breaking apart. Ryan all but flung himself to the other side of the couch and Brendon took a moment to take a couple of calming breaths, yelling “One minute,” as he walked to unlock the door. He played with his hair and smoothed out his shirt before sitting down on the couch again and calling out, “Come in.”

The door hesitantly opened, and one of the new interns, whose name Brendon was almost positive was Spencer, peeked around the edge of the door, looking around nervously before entering. Brendon supposed it was Spencer’s first time in his dressing room because his eyes lingered over the photos decorating the wall and his lips raised up in a smile at the picture of Brendon holding back Lindsey Lohan’s hair grinning at the camera with a thumbs up sign, before quickly vanquishing it from his face as if he didn’t think he was allowed to smile. When Spencer’s eyes found their way to the couch where Brendon and Ryan were both sitting together, though there was a lot of room and quite a few haphazardly thrown pillows now between them, his eyebrows furrowed together as if in confusion.

Although most of the cast and crew knew that the rumors about Ryan and Brendon’s fighting were false, they didn’t really know that they were friends. Or more. Usually Brendon and Ryan tried to keep away from each other, though no longer was it because of some slight jealousy or confused feelings, but mostly because every time Brendon saw Ryan, all he wanted to do was hold him tightly against himself and kiss him until they were both gasping for breath.

“Um, you’re needed back on set, Mr. Urie,” Spencer said and then turned to Ryan, “you too, Mr. Ross. I was going to go to your dressing room next. The director wants to try a couple of different angles with the kissing booth fight scene. I didn’t know that you would be in here.”

Ryan gave a small, controlled smile. “Brendon and I were just going over some of our lines. Trying a couple of different techniques. Tell the director we’ll be right there,” Ryan said and Spencer nodded and turned back to leave. “Oh, and Spencer,” Ryan called and the intern turned back, eyebrow raised, no doubt waiting for Ryan to order him to get him a non-fat latte or something, “you can call me Ryan.”

After another small smile, Ryan turned and gave Brendon a pointed look and Brendon cleared his throat before saying, “And I’m just Brendon. None of that Mr. Urie shit.”

Ryan let out a small laugh and Spencer, though reluctant, allowed a chuckle to sneak past his lips. “Okay, Brendon. Ryan. Fifteen minutes then,” he said and left the dressing room, closing it behind him.

Brendon chuckled deep in his chest and leaned across the couch to lightly kiss at Ryan’s lips before springing off the sofa to his feet. “Just our luck, huh?”

Ryan groaned but smiled. “You better make it up to me later.”

“How is it my fault that we have to do more camera angles?” Brendon asked.

“It’s not.” Ryan shrugged. “But you still better make it up to me later.” He smiled coyly, and when Brendon held out his hand, he grabbed it and pulled himself flush up against Brendon’s body.

“Yeah,” Brendon choked out. “I can do that.”


* * *


Brendon’s arms were down by his sides, shaking as he clenched his fists tightly together. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His eyes were blazing as he looked at the scene before him.

The student lounge was decorated in red, pink, and white, decked out for the impending Valentine’s Day season and heart-shaped balloons were floating up, blocking the dirty white ceiling with waxy, festive latex. Students were milling around, mostly minding their own business, though when Brendon’s words rang out, loud and clear, every eye turned to him. A large table was set up in the middle of the room, directly in front of where Brendon was standing, and sitting behind the table was a girl whose bright red lips were desperately trying to form some sort of answer.

“Ashley,” Brendon repeated as he looked down at Keltie, his words developing a harsher edge, “what is going on?”

“God, Kyle,” another voice broke through, and Brendon turned carefully within his mark to face the speaker and his eyes narrowed as he glared at the boy. “You and Ashley aren’t even dating anymore, give it a rest. Plus, this is a kissing booth. A kissing booth,” he repeated, drawing out the words slowly as if to explain what the words meant, and Brendon couldn’t help but admire how perfectly Ryan slipped into character. “It’s for charity. Lighten up.”

“I don’t think I was talking to you, Dan,” Brendon snarled and placed his hand firmly against Ryan’s chest. It burned upon contact, and though Brendon knew that Ryan must have seen the subtle change in his hard gaze, he kept in character and pushed the other boy back against the table. A bright red cut-out pair of lips went flying across the room as Ryan’s body knocked back the table, jarring the contents, and Keltie quickly stood up and backed away.

She rounded the table and wrapped a hand around Brendon’s upper arm, pulling him back and away from Ryan. “Kyle, leave him alone.”

Ryan was panting against the table, back arched slightly against the edge, hands resting on the hard surface, keeping his body angled, but up. His eyes were dark and his hair was rumpled from the force of the push and Brendon couldn’t help but think of leaning Ryan over on that table right then. Brendon’s eyes traveled up Ryan’s body, taking in the tense muscles of Ryan’s arms, up his neck which Brendon knew was marked underneath the layer of makeup, up to his slightly parted lips, which Ryan ran his tongue quickly across.

Brendon tore his eyes away from Ryan’s lower lips and shook his head to quickly rid his mind of all thoughts not Kyle Mills. “Why are you even doing this stupid thing?” he asked Keltie, taking her hand off his arm and holding it within his own. Brendon could feel Ryan’s gaze burn into his back but he continued. “You’re so much better than this, Ashley. So much more.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what I am, Kyle,” Keltie said and Brendon feigned hurt and loss as she tore her hand away from his own. “You broke up with me for that band geek so you have no business telling me what to do or who I am.” Keltie’s eyes began to mist up, her large blue eyes began to tear and the hand that Brendon placed on her shoulder was almost genuine. He really did hate to see her cry, even if it was just an act. “You broke up with me,” she reminded him. “You broke my heart.”

“Ashley,” Brendon murmured as sincerely as possible. He widened his brown eyes, those dark eyes that he knew brought in about 2.3% of their viewership. “You know I still love you.”

“It’s not enough,” she said sadly, slow tears now creeping down her face. “You broke my heart and you can’t just come here and think that by saying ‘I love you’ everything will be alright. It’s not alright, Kyle. It’s not alright.” Keltie turned and ran off, her long legs carrying her swiftly from Brendon’s side across the room where she stopped and fell into a chair behind the camera, delicately wiping the tears off her face.

“Oh look,” Ryan’s harsh monotone broke in, “you made her cry. Again. That seems to be all you’re good for, Mills.”

When Brendon turned, he could see Ryan’s face was hard and his mouth was twisted into a sneer, something he only saw on set. Never had Ryan’s lips curled into something so harsh when it was just the two of them, limbs intertwined and breaths coming out as one.

“Can’t you see that she doesn’t want to be with you anymore?” Ryan walked closer to him, and with each step Brendon’s heart beat faster. “Why can’t you just leave her alone?”

“Why?” Brendon asked taking a step closer to Ryan until they were face to face, mere inches from each other and even though Brendon knew the scene was supposed to be all about anger and hatred, between Ryan and himself all he could feel was heat. “Why would I do that? So you can swoop in?” He laughed harshly and the puff of air caused some of Ryan’s hair to fall into his eyes. Brendon’s hand twitched at his side but he didn’t brush it away. Ryan flicked his head back, jerking his hair back into its place, his posture still screaming, hinting at the confrontation to come. “If you haven’t noticed by now, Ashley doesn’t want you.”

Ryan smirked. “I don’t know. She seemed to be pretty okay with the idea at Chad’s party. Remember that, Kyle?” He leaned forward, jeering. “There’s no way you could have forgotten that. I know that she hasn’t.”

That was his cue and Brendon pushed Ryan backwards until the back of his thighs hit the table. Ryan’s own hands reached out and pushed Brendon back until both boys were gripping each other’s arms fiercely. They fell to the ground in a tussle, and when Ryan brought his fist back, Brendon expertly flung his head to the side when Ryan’s knuckles barely passed by his cheek in faux pain.

Brendon squirmed beneath Ryan and let out a grunt as he successfully turned them over until he was looming overtop of the other boy. Ryan’s hands grappled with his shirt, trying to turn them over again, but his hips arched into Brendon’s, and all of a sudden, it was achingly familiar. Too familiar. Brendon was painfully aware of the camera and tried to keep his face locked into his ordered glaring and furious expressions, but when he pushed down against Ryan he could feel himself getting hard and he stopped a whimper in his throat, counting down the seconds until Mr. Roberts would break the fight up. Ryan’s eyes had a small flicker of lust in them and Brendon’s breath grew more labored, and he hoped that the camera didn’t pick up on it, hoped that it was now panning the expressions of the other students.

“Stop it,” a loud voice yelled and Brendon felt strong hands on his arms pulling him off the ground and off of Ryan. “Kyle,” Mr. Roberts said, his voice serious but with the tiniest bit of something else sinking through (since season two he had always had a soft spot for the boy), “cool down. You know that Meyer’s Academy doesn’t tolerate violence.”

“He started it,” Brendon growled.

Ryan scoffed as he pulled himself to his feet using the table, long fingers dusting off his tight, dark shirt. Brendon’s eyes followed the quick brushes of Ryan’s fingers and bit his lower lip before he could stop himself.

“I don’t want to hear it, Kyle.” Mr. Roberts brushed him off and his judgmental eyes swooped across Brendon to land on Ryan. “I’ll see you both in detention after school today,” he said and turned to leave, yelling over his shoulder, “and no more fighting!”

Brendon stood in front of Ryan, who was catching his breath, panting just a little with what he knew the television audience would think was anger. He watched as Ryan let his tongue wet his bottom lip again, and he mentally braced himself, rushing to say his final line so that he could do something to rid himself of his soon to be embarrassing problem. “I guess we’ll continue with this later,” he said, trying to sound angry, but from the amused twitch in Ryan’s trademark smirk, he could tell that the other boy could hear the slight desperation in his words.

“Count on it,” Ryan replied, smirk still perfectly in place, held until the director yelled “Cut!” and Brendon breathed out a sigh of relief. His posture immediately relaxed and Ryan brushed past him on his way towards the director and whispered, “You okay there, Bren?” teasingly before giving him a wink.

Brendon shook his head after Ryan but couldn’t help but smile and followed him to where Keltie and the director were standing near the monitor.

“Great scene, guys,” the director said, grinning wide, and he leaned over to ruffle Brendon’s hair.

Brendon immediately backed away and flattened his hair, though he threw out a well-meaning smile and said, “Thanks, Shane.”

“Well, scenes between you two are always great,” he complimented and pointedly smirked at Brendon, who suddenly wished that he had never confided in Shane, best friend or not. “Chemistry,” he said, nodded at his own words. “Great chemistry,” he repeated again before he walked off and Brendon could see Ryan flush red at the words, and suddenly he didn’t care about his annoyance with Shane anymore.

“I think I’m gonna go to my dressing room now,” Ryan said, looking at Brendon and biting at his lip before turning to go, waving goodbye to some of the crew as he left.

Brendon watched as Ryan glanced over his shoulder at Brendon as he made his way to leave the room and he cleared his throat adding, “Yeah, I think I’m gonna go too.”

“Hang on,” Keltie said and Brendon, great actor that he was, managed to not let out a groan of frustration. “I wanted to talk to you about the script for the next episode.”

“Sure, Kelts,” Brendon replied distractedly. Ryan raised his eyebrow from where he was still standing at the door, and when Keltie reached over to pick up the script that was lying on a nearby chair, he quickly mouthed “dressing room” to Ryan.

Ryan nodded and left the set.

“Here it is,” Keltie chirped, presenting the bound script to Brendon. “Have you read through it yet?”

Brendon shook his head. “Not yet. What’s the plan for next week? I don’t have an evil twin, do I?”

Keltie laughed and slapped Brendon lightly on the arm. “Ha ha, very funny, make fun of the former soap star. I wouldn’t talk if I were you, Bren. Remember Zombies 7: Brain Camp?”

“Touché,” Brendon conceded with a chuckle. “My D list movie was nowhere near the spectacular awesomeness of daytime soap operas.”

“Whatever, Brendon,” Keltie said, shaking her head in laughter. “But back to the script, I think that you and I should pencil in some extra rehearsal time. Apparently, I find out I’m pregnant and you and I are supposed to have an argument about abortion.”

Brendon sighed at the ridiculousness of the plot. “Right. Am I the father? And do I want you to get an abortion or not?”

“You’re the father,” she said but then wrinkled her nose. “At least, I think you are. At least for the next episode you are. And you don’t want Ashley to get the abortion but she does. Remember, your character is still going through all that religious angst stuff.”

“Oh yeah.” Brendon nodded, and with that reminder, he pulled off the thin gold cross that wardrobe had put on him earlier. “Sure, I guess we can do some extra rehearsals. How about Monday before the read-through at one? I can probably get most of it sorted out by then.”

“I was actually thinking that we could sort it out together,” Keltie said and she ran a hand through her hair just like she did whenever she was nervous but Brendon didn’t know what had happened to set off her nervous habit. “Maybe Saturday night we could go over it. I could make us dinner and then we could rehearse.”

Brendon knew that he and Ryan had planned to do something on Saturday, but he figured that he could always push back their plans. He didn’t think Ryan would mind.

“Um, sure,” he said. “That’s fine.” Honestly, he wanted to get the conversation with Keltie done with as quickly as possible. Ryan was waiting for him in his dressing room and every second that ticked by was one second more that he wasn’t in there with him.

“Great.” Keltie beamed up at him. “Come over around seven then.”

“Sure,” Brendon said distractedly before he quickly said goodbye to Keltie and rushed off the set, all but running towards Ryan’s dressing room.

He reached the dressing room quickly and stopped a minute to catch his breath and look around, making sure that no one could see as he quickly opened the door and slid into his costar’s dressing room. He shut the door as quietly as he could so to not alert Ryan to his presence and locked it.

Ryan was sitting at his vanity. He had obviously just taken off his makeup and a couple of used cotton balls were still strewn about the countertop. He was reading a book, eyes firmly planted to the page, and so he didn’t see Brendon in the mirror as he creeped up behind him until Brendon had bent over and attached his lips to Ryan’s neck. Ryan dropped the book.

“Mmm,” Ryan let out in surprise and approval, and his eyes met Brendon’s in the mirror, fluttering shut as Brendon’s tongue licked teasingly up his jaw line.

“God,” Brendon murmured against Ryan’s neck. “Do you know how hard it was just now to be with you, fight with you, have my hands all over you and not do this?”

Ryan laughed and Brendon could feel the vibrations resonate through him as he lapped at Ryan’s pulse point. “I think I actually do,” he said and his eyes were suddenly darker in the mirror. “You know, I could feel you. Getting hard above me, grinding down into me-” His words broke off into a moan as Brendon worked his way down and bit at the junction between Ryan’s neck and shoulder.

“You were getting hard too,” Brendon said, smirking at Ryan through the mirror. “I know you were.”

Suddenly, Ryan’s hands reached around and grabbed the back of Brendon’s head, bringing their lips together fiercely and he wasted no time in slipping his tongue against Brendon’s. He leaned back to catch his breath, panting “I wanted you. Fuck, you know I always want you.”

Brendon clasped his hands tightly around both of Ryan’s upper arms and pulled him out of his chair, twirling him around and bringing Ryan up against him. He brought their lips together once more as he pushed Ryan back against the edge of the vanity, flat palms pushing firmly against Ryan’s chest.

“This is kinda familiar, huh?” Brendon asked, eyebrow quirked. “Kinda like the kissing booth scene except better.”

“Much better,” Ryan said.

Brendon leaned in and licked at the shell of Ryan’s ear. “When we were filming, I was thinking about doing this.”

“What?” Ryan asked, and his head lolled back slightly as Brendon licked against the curve of his ear again.

“Kissing you,” Brendon said, trailing kisses down Ryan’s neck. “Leaning you over that goddamn table and fucking you. Fucking you so hard until the table broke and we fell down with me still deep inside you.”

Ryan groaned and pressed up against Brendon. He was getting hard again. “Fuck.”

“Were you thinking of it too?” Brendon growled into Ryan’s neck as he nipped at his Adam’s apple.

“If I wasn’t then, I sure am now,” Ryan said and hauled Brendon up to bring their mouths together, and they joined, hot, hard, and biting until Brendon pulled back.

He took a step backward and grasped Ryan’s hips firmly before turning him around. Ryan reached out both arms and braced himself against the table, pushing his ass back against Brendon and grinding.

Brendon could see Ryan’s sly grin through the mirror and his hands reached around Ryan’s thin hips between the older boy and the vanity, and with nimble fingers, he unbuckled Ryan’s belt, unbuttoned the button, quickly pulled down the zipper, and yanked down Ryan’s pants quickly.

Ryan kicked off his shoes and bent down to rid himself of his socks before pulling off his pants and boxers. He braced himself against the hard top again when he was done and looked back questioningly at Brendon. “Aren’t you going to get naked now?”

Smirking, Brendon pulled Ryan’s tight shirt over his head and smoothed his hands down Ryan’s bare back. He bent down his head and kissed along Ryan’s spine as his fingers undid his own pants, bringing them down to his knees but not off. Ryan was naked in front of him, completely laid before him and Brendon loved it.

“I think I’ll keep my clothes on, thanks,” Brendon said, and his hand followed the slope of Ryan’s spine before he palmed over Ryan’s ass.

Brendon brought his hand off Ryan and raised two fingers up so that Ryan could see it in the mirror. He smirked before bringing the fingers to his own mouth and coating them, swirling his tongue around each digit and moaning.

Ryan pressed back harder against Brendon, who used one of his shining fingers to mime ‘No’ and he said, “Patience, Ryan.”

He found his way back to Ryan’s ass, and the other boy spread his legs further apart in anticipation. Brendon circled one wet finger around Ryan’s entrance, teasing, before the other boy groaned out in impatience and he grinned and pressed in.

He wasted little time, moving the lone finger in and out a couple of times before pulling out and replacing his movements with two fingers. Ryan moaned back in approval, and through the mirror, Brendon could see Ryan’s mouth was open wide obscenely, letting the most delicious sounds pour out, and his cock twitched as he quickened the ministrations of his hand, stretching Ryan with each press in, scissoring to get him ready. “More?” Brendon asked breathlessly and Ryan nodded fiercely.

“Fuck me. Now. I’m ready.” Ryan licked his lips and locked his eyes with Brendon’s in the mirror before jutting backward, fucking himself hard against Brendon’s two fingers. “Now.”

“Yeah,” Brendon agreed and pulled out his fingers, grinning as Ryan moaned at the sudden empty feeling. Ryan leaned over and opened one of the drawers of the vanity, hurriedly pressing a small bottle and square packet into Brendon’s hand. Brendon ripped open the condom packet and rolled it over his hard erection, quickly slicking himself up with the lube that Ryan had handed him. He firmly gripped the base of his cock and pressed the head against Ryan’s entrance, lingering until the other boy pressed backward to thrust in.

Two simultaneous moans broke out and Brendon leaned against Ryan, giving Ryan a chance to adjust to the intrusion while he took a few calming breaths, taking in the tight heat that surrounded him. Brendon’s hold on Ryan’s hips tightened as he pulled back and slammed back in, and several of the jars on Ryan’s vanity clinked against each other.

“Fuck,” Ryan groaned out as he moved back against Brendon, pushing harder with each bruising thrust. “Fuck, Brendon.”

Their eyes met in the mirror though when Brendon changed the angle of his hips and viciously thrust in, Ryan’s eyes quickly shut and his head rolled down as he let out a sharp gasp.

“No,” Brendon said and he took one of his hands off of Ryan’s hips to pull his head back up. “I want you to look at yourself. I want you to see how much you want this, how much you want me.”

Ryan kept his head up and Brendon’s hand quickly found its way back to his hip, steadying the quick, hard push of his thrusts.

“I want you to look at yourself and think about how you’ve been thinking about this all day. Before, in my dressing room, and then on set. Could you feel my hands on you then? Could you feel my lips on yours? My hot breath on your neck as I fucked you? Could you feel my cock hard inside you?” Brendon let his words run together, spewing out faster with the quickening speed of his thrusts and Ryan moaned his answer to each question.

Brendon pulled Ryan closer to himself as he quickly slid back a couple of inches to allow more room. When Ryan leaned further down on his arms still firmly placed on the vanity, Brendon’s right hand left Ryan’s hip, and after he quickly spit in his palm, he reached around to stroke Ryan’s hard cock. He could feel a tremble run through Ryan’s body, and in the mirror he could see the other boy was biting his lower lip, and though his eyes fell shut once in a while, he always quickly snapped them open again, staring at his own writhing body in the mirror.

Hand moving quickly up and down Ryan’s erection, Brendon continued to drive his own cock deep within the other boy, moans spilling from his lips with each push. His finger swiped over the head of Ryan’s cock, teasing, and when Ryan chocked breathlessly, “Fuck, Bren. Close. Fuck, close,” he moved faster, bringing himself closer to the edge as he felt Ryan’s cock twitch in his hand, jerk and release in his tight grip as the other boy yelled out his name.

Brendon pulled Ryan through his orgasm as he felt his own growing closer with each heated thrust until he pulled his hand from Ryan’s softening erection to jerk his hips up against his own as he came, spasming through Ryan’s body and slumping against his back, pressing hot kisses against sweaty flesh.

“Fuck,” he said, and he carefully pulled out before pulling off the condom, tying it and throwing it in the garbage bin next to Ryan’s vanity.

Ryan turned, wound his arms around Brendon in a loose embrace, and kissed him, lazily swiping his tongue across Brendon’s lower lip. Brendon leaned into him and slowly kissed back, coming down from his high and simply enjoying being in Ryan’s arms.

“You know,” Ryan said when they parted and he had lain his head against the curve of Brendon’s neck, leaning back on the vanity to support his and Brendon’s weight, “you’re going to have to do something with that condom. We can’t just have it lying around here. The cleaning lady will find it.”

“So?” Brendon asked and he traced small circles in Ryan’s back. “She’ll just think that you got lucky, which you did.” He pulled back to smile cockily at Ryan. “Really lucky. You got me.”

“Overconfident bastard,” Ryan said, but a smile played at his lips and he pulled Brendon into another soft kiss.

“You love it,” Brendon said easily and he leaned against Ryan, snuggling into the warmth of his naked skin.

Ryan chuckled and pushed lightly at Brendon. “Get up, Bren. I have to get dressed.”

“Ngah,” Brendon objected into Ryan’s shoulder, but he allowed himself to be pushed back, and he pulled his pants up as he went to sit on the armrest of the couch, watching as Ryan bent down to retrieve his own clothes.

His eyes swept over the curve of Ryan’s back and he grinned when Ryan turned back to see Brendon staring at him. “Don’t look at me like that,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “I know that look. I just saw that look. We have to get out of here or people will start to wonder.”

Brendon stuck his lower lip out in a pout. “I thought that you were supposed to make something up to me?”

Ryan shook his head. “No, you were supposed to make it up to me that Spencer interrupted us earlier, and you just did.”

Grinning, Brendon said, “I don’t know. I’m still feeling guilty.”

Ryan sighed and rolled his eyes, but he stepped over to where Brendon was perched up against the couch’s armrest, pushed him back until he fell against the plush cushions, and followed him down.


* * *


“I’ll just have the garden salad,” Brendon told the waitress when she turned to take his order. “And water is just fine, thanks.” She scribbled the order down on a small notebook that was encased in a black leather case that Brendon was pretty sure was Prada. He snorted to himself. Fucking Hollywood.

To his left, Jon ordered the Chicken Penne, but Brendon zoned out as soon as he started to give the waitress unnecessary specifics. Jon was always like that, trying to make even the simplest dish on the menu complex. Sometimes, when Brendon thought about it, Jon was almost scarily similar to Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally. He even had faked an orgasm when they were at Carnegie’s Deli in New York. At least, Brendon was pretty sure it was fake. Jon did really like roast beef.

His phone went off just as Jon started to tell the waitress exactly how he wanted the parsley to be laid out on the plate, and since his manager, Pete, was too busy with his own phone to care, he flipped open his cell to see that Ryan had sent him a text message.

Stay strong.

Brendon chuckled to himself. Ryan knew how overwhelming these stupid business meetings could be, and as much as Brendon loved Jon and Pete, they were still his producer and manager. Combined, they were like the mother that Brendon had left behind when he was young, naive, and hungry for attention: constantly nagging but always looking to brag about him to other people.

I want a big funeral, Brendon typed back. With flowers and the London’s Boys Choir.

Only a moment after he pressed send another message buzzed from Ryan.

I’ll do my best.

Brendon grinned and shook his head. It was a Friday night, and while he had to have a business dinner with his producer and manager, Ryan should be out at a club enjoying himself. But clubs weren’t really Ryan’s scene, and he only went when Brendon dragged him to one or when the producers insisted. Brendon knew that Ryan liked nothing better than to curl up on his oversized couch with a good novel and a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Well, almost nothing better. Brendon could think of a couple of things that he was pretty sure Ryan enjoyed even more than the new Chuck Palahniuk book.

He put his phone back into his pocket and gave the waitress one of his scene-stealing smiles as she blurrily left the table, hoping that maybe she wouldn’t spit in their food if he charmed her.

“Pete,” Jon said, and Pete looked up from his phone and held up a finger, telling Jon to hold on a minute. “No,” Jon chastised, “get off your fucking phone, this is a business dinner.”

Brendon pouted. “I thought this was just because you both love me so much and wanted to spend some quality restaurant time with me.”

“That too,” Jon promised, and he grabbed the phone out of Pete’s protesting hands before yelling, “He’ll have to call you back” into the cell and slamming it shut.

“Hey, that was important,” Pete said, glaring at Jon. “I was talking to someone about a movie deal for Brendon, asshole.” The two men glared at one another and Brendon smiled. Even though they fought constantly, Jon and Pete were almost like brothers and Brendon knew that they fed off of one another. Plus, Brendon figured, their mutual love for him was a strong bond.

“Whatever,” Jon said, waving Pete’s exasperation off. “You can call them back later. Right now we’re here to discuss Brendon’s future with The Strip.” Jon’s face, that face that normally always had an easy grin on it, was suddenly very serious.

“Fine,” Pete agreed and he put his phone away. “I guess you should get straight to the point and tell us why you called this meeting. I do have better things to do, you know. And not just your mom,” he joked.

Jon rolled his eyes at Pete but let the comment slide. “Okay, I have good news and I have bad news. What do you want to hear first?”

Brendon groaned. “I fucking hate that. How about just the good news? I don’t want to hear the bad news. Why do you think I only read the entertainment part of the newspaper?”

The serious edge dropped slightly from Jon’s face as he flashed Brendon a grin. “I thought you only read the entertainment section so you could see pictures of yourself.”

Brendon flicked him off easily and rolled his eyes.

“Good news first,” Pete said, ignoring Jon and Brendon’s banter, dropping his snarky attitude, and quickly shifting into business mode. Though he was loud and sometimes obnoxious, he made Brendon the star he was and Brendon knew that he owed Pete everything. He really was a great manager. “You always take the good news first,” Pete said to Brendon. “It softens the blow.” Brendon fiercely hoped that the bad news wouldn’t require a lot of cushioning.

“Yeah, okay,” Jon agreed. “Well, good news then. The list of nominations for the Emmys was just delivered to the network.” He paused, eyebrow quirking comically before he continued. “Guess who’s up for Leading Male in a Drama?”

Brendon’s body froze in shock and Pete let out a loud “You gotta be fucking kidding with me! Brendon?! You’re not fucking with me, right, Jon? Oh God, that’s so great.”

“What?” Brendon asked, his ears still ringing.

“You’re nominated for an Emmy, kid,” Jon said, smiling. “About fucking time too, you almost make that damn show bearable.”

“Damn straight he does,” Pete exclaimed. “Brendon, do you know what this means? It’s perfect; this is just what you need to break into film.”

Brendon shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around the thought that he was up for an award. “I don’t know if I want to do film, Pete,” Brendon reminded his manager. “I’m comfortable on television. I like working on The Strip. I don’t need to add any extra stress.”

“Maybe that will be a good transition into the bad news,” Jon said, suddenly hesitant. “I might think again about doing movies, Bren.”

Pete, who had pulled his phone out once more no doubt to call someone and tell them the news of Brendon’s nomination, shut his cell phone sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jon took a deep breath and took a little glance around. “What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this table,” he said. “You’re not supposed to know about it, and I would probably get into trouble if someone finds out about this, but you’re one of my best friends, Brendon, and I can’t just not tell you. Not when it affects you.”

“Fucking get to it,” Pete said, but Brendon remained quiet, body still tingling from the news of his nomination, but now suddenly tense, waiting for the fall, waiting for Jon’s words to knock him back down.

“Right,” Jon agreed, not even bothering to snap back at Pete, and suddenly Brendon realized how bad it was going to be. “I guess I’ll just say it. Ratings for The Strip are down. Significantly. The producers are starting to talk about revamping the show.” Jon’s words were slow, but it still took a moment for each syllable to connect in Brendon’s mind. “They’re starting to talk about losing some characters. Basically, they think the Dan/Ashley/Kyle thing is played out and they don’t see a reason to have two leading men anymore. It’s still a rumor now, but still, people have been talking.”

Brendon swallowed and his throat was suddenly very dry. “Wait, what are you saying? They’re going to fire someone? Me or Ryan?”

“I’m not saying this is for sure,” Jon restated, his voice gentle and Brendon looked away, focusing anywhere but Jon’s face, his sympathetic eyes. “But yeah, rumor has it that either you or Ryan are going to be gone by next season after your contracts expire.”

The table was silent and the waitress picked that moment to bring their food. Brendon stared down at his salad and suddenly desperately wished that he had ordered steak or anything that he could cut violently into. He didn’t know what he would do.

For the past four years, Brendon’s life had revolved around The Strip. The series came at the perfect time, picking Brendon out of obscurity and giving him everything he wanted: fame, recognition, and a steady paycheck. But now…

“Well,” Pete finally said after a minute, “they’ll fire Ryan. They have to. Brendon’s been there since the beginning.”

Brendon’s stomach dropped and Pete’s words didn’t comfort him, only brought in a new dimension to his worrying. Ryan.

“I don’t think that’ll make much of a difference,” Jon said. “I’ve been looking at the character ratings, and actually, Ryan seems to be ahead a little bit. If the producers make their decision on that alone…” He trailed off, leaving the worst unsaid but quickly retracted his statement. “But I’m sure that they’ll take more than that into consideration.”

“Like what?” Pete asked desperately. “What do we have to do to make sure that Brendon is the one they keep?”

Jon shook his head. “I don’t know. Get the fans to turn against Ryan, I guess.” As he spoke those words, he glanced at Brendon. “But I don’t think that’s what Brendon wants to do.”

Jon and Brendon had been immediate friends from the moment Brendon had joined The Strip. Jon was the cocky new producer and Brendon was the pampered new talent, of course they hit it off right away. When the thing with Ryan started, Jon was one of the few people that Brendon told, one of the few people he confided in.

“Of course he does,” Pete said. “He’ll do anything to keep his job, right Brendon?”

Brendon looked up between Pete and Jon, both men staring at him and his stomach swirled uncomfortably and he pushed his salad away from him. “I don’t know what I want.”

Jon reached over and placed a comforting hand on Brendon’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Bren,” he said. “I’m sure it will all work out in the end.”

“And what if it doesn’t?” Pete snapped. “Brendon, we need to be on the offensive here. Take some initiative. We need to get Ryan out of the public favor so you can remain in it.” His words started to run together as his speed of talking increased, something Brendon knew meant that Pete was quickly approaching overdrive. “I don’t see the problem here. We simply have to turn people against him. Shouldn’t be too hard, he’s a weird kid,” Pete mused and Brendon couldn’t stop the hard glare that came to his face.

“Don’t listen to him, Brendon,” Jon said. “He’s an asshole. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Pete scoffed. “I fucking know exactly what I’m talking about. Hollywood is a cruel town and you need to be hard if you’re going to make it. You need to be ruthless, and if that Ross kid gets lost in the gunfire, well then, he wasn’t meant for this business anyway.”

“Pete,” Brendon said and his voice was weaker than he realized. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Pete, shut up.” His head was spinning and he forced down a sip of cool water but it did nothing to soothe him.

“Brendon, you need to listen to me. I’m your manager. This is what I’m here for, to make your life easier. To help you when you need me,” Pete said, and gradually, his words began to slow as he tried to calm down and force Brendon to listen to him, take in what he was telling him. “Brendon, you need me now. I can take care of this.”

Brendon shook his head. “No, I don’t want to fuck up things for Ryan,” he said steadily but he didn’t look Pete in the eyes, and instead, he grabbed a packet of sweetener and tore at the edges.

“If you want to keep your job, we have to take precautions,” Pete explained, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jon throw him a look. “What, Jon? What?”

Jon gave Brendon a searching look and Brendon knew what he was asking. He was asking permission. Brendon nodded - - there was no way he was going to tell Pete.

“The thing is, Pete,” Jon began, keeping his eyes firmly on Brendon, “Brendon and Ryan are kind of…” He looked to Brendon for help, but he remained quiet.

“Kind of what?” Pete asked.

Jon took a second. “They’re kind of involved.”

Pete was silent for a long moment and then let out a harsh laugh. “Fucking perfect, Brendon. This is just what we need now - - you coming out as a fucking queer.”

“I’m not gay,” Brendon spat at Pete.

“I’m pretty sure Ryan’s a guy,” Pete countered back and shook his head before pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is fucking ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, still shaking his head before taking a deep breath and staring at Brendon head on. “It’s just a sex thing, right? It’s not love or anything stupid like that, right?”

Brendon was sure that for a moment his heart stopped, but he shook his head and said, “No, it’s just something we… Something we fell into, I guess.” His phone buzzed in his pocket signaling another text message and Brendon was painfully aware that it was probably Ryan and suddenly he felt almost sick. “It’s not love,” he affirmed, “but I don’t want to ruin him, Pete. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“I don’t think it will come to that, Bren,” Jon said soothingly. “I just wanted you to know that people have been talking.”

“But what if it does come to that?” Pete asked. Jon threw him a sharp look and he held up his hands. “I’m just trying to cover all the bases. It could potentially turn into something ugly.”

Jon shook his head. “I really don’t think that the network will split you two up. You work so well together.”

“Chemistry,” Pete said, and though his voice had an edge to it, Brendon remembered when Shane had said that and Ryan had blushed red at the words, flush with something deeper than mere embarrassment. “You’re sure it’s just a fling, Brendon?” Pete asked.

Brendon couldn’t remember using the word fling, but he nodded at Pete and tried his best to smile up at him. “Don’t worry, Pete,” he said, “it’s not love.”

Part two