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inkisrunningTitle: Ryan Saved Me (or chapter four of my love story)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
calidearie
Rating: R
Pairing: Ryden
POV: Brendon's
Summary: Brendon woos Ryan, Ryan dresses Brendon, Brendon saves Ryan... it's all give and take on a first date.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, they own themselves. Abandoned Pools owns the cut-text.
Author Notes: (1)UNBETA'D: longerthanwedo rocks!
Dedications: This chapter is dedicated to [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com], who was not only FC for the third chapter, but also gave me the prompts: tutu, minty chapstick and fanny pack, which inspired me for this chapter. Thank you [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com], hope you like it!
Teh Love Story
Ryan Named Me (or chapter one of my love story)
Ryan Kissed Me (or chapter two of my love story)
Ryan Found Me (or chapter three of my love story)
Ryan Saved Me (or chapter four of my love story)
Ryan Virginated Me (or chapter five of my love story)
Ryan F&cked Me (or chapter six of my love story)
Ryan Loves Me (or the last chapter, but not the end to my love)
ccc
So, we're getting to the good stuff. First date kind of good, or bad, depending on how you look at it. If you are like me and see a glass as half full, then you'd think my first date with Ryan was a total success.
Half empty people may see it as a total disaster, but I beg to differ as we did make it to our second date. I guess though, saying that is a bit unfair as you didn't know that there was a second date. I’m getting ahead of myself. You don't even know the details of our first date. Well, I guess that will soon change.
Imagine that, everything I say, I guess, could be taken at face value. You'd believe me, right? As it is my story, my point of view, my perception. Wow, that's a powerful thing. I guess I'm kind of like… Spiderman, and you know what they say, "With great power comes great responsibility."
Spiderman and I… we understand things like that. And more importantly, Spiderman is Ryan's favorite superhero, true fact. So I guess I'm like Ryan’s superhero in a sense. It could be true, you know?
Well, superhero or not, success or not, it was our first date, and if you happened to see us that night, you might have thought we were crazy. Well, if that was crazy just wait until I tell you about this one time when we thought it'd be fun to out ourselves. To my family, that is.
Anyway, back to my first date with Ryan. Be warned, there was a little death involved. I'm not kidding. So, if that’s not your thing, don't read further. If it's all the same to you, read on. But don't say that I didn't give you fair warning.
ccc
"Come on, Ryan, hurry up already! The previews--the PREVIEWS! Ryannnnn, we're gonna miss the previews!"
Three minutes later, or two previews that we could have been watching later, Ryan finally descended the stairs and fuck… if looks could kill, I was surely dead.
It's not as if Ryan was dressed up or anything, actually it was quite the opposite, he was like, dressed down.
I've never seen him look so… so boyish in real life, only in pictures from a lifetime ago, back in his Pet Salamander days. I watched him come to a stop before me. He was wearing a black Famous shirt, a nondescript black hat, and slightly baggy blue jeans. "Wow, you look… cute, hot even!"
"I was going for normal."
"Why?" I said, clearly confused. "Face it, Ryan, no matter what you wear, you won't look normal."
"Thanks, Bren." He said, sarcastically.
"You know what I mean." I smirked as I moved around him, trying to see him at all angles. And seemingly at all angles, Ryan was looking rather delicious. It took me another few seconds to make my way in front of Ryan again. Damn…
"So?" Ryan raised his eyebrow in question.
"I can see your boxers. And they're printed." I grinned and I could hardly contain my excitement. To be honest, I didn't know what I was feeling at this point, excited, turned on, or just positively giddy from feeling both.
"What do you think?"
I put my hand to my chin, and really it was an unconscious movement, and I really was trying to decide what to say. "You never asked me that before. You always wear what you want."
"Yeah, well, I'm trying to fit in the crowd of moviegoers here. We're not recognizable when we're not going out as a band, but I kinda hope that we'll get through this night unscathed. So the less the attention, the better."
"Well, in that case, you utterly fail."
"What? But this is the kind of thing I wore back--"
"--When you were baby Ryan?"
"Uh."
"Is that the same shirt I saw you in on your website?"
"What website?" and then: "Oh--Ohhh! You saw that?" Ryan asked, almost blushing. "Is that site still up? Anyway, yeah, it's the same shirt, I guess."
"Well, not that you got fat or anything, but you grew into it somehow, or it shrunk." I said as I touched the fabric. It was very nice, very, very nice. "It's all soft and worn. Hey, how about a change of plans?"
"Oh no, we're doing this. We need to go out, I'm gonna crack from lack of outside exposure. The walls are closing in, Bren."
"But. Soft. So soft." I said and I admit I was practically rubbing my body all over him, trying to get as much contact as I could.
After a minute or two Ryan gasped, and I thought I may have unintentionally rubbed a certain part of his anatomy to cause such a reaction. So I did it again, intentionally this time, earning another similar reaction. And then much to my dismay, he gently pushed me away at arm's length.
"Don't give me that pout. You promised me a date. And we're going to go on this date. Or I swear I'll--"
"Okay, okay."
"Good, so just tell me if I pass or what. I'm thinking maybe if I can't pull off the look, it'll only cause more attention--unwanted attention like, you know, let's go beat the crap out of that loser, that kind of thing?"
"Huh. I don't think that situation would apply to any of your looks, I mean, you carry it well, whatever you wear."
"Are you just saying that because you're my boyfriend?"
I never really understood how that worked, the question, and what the fuck the answer is supposed to be. I think 'no' is the proper answer but why the fuck would anyone would say 'yes' is beyond me. But then again, I think that’s all part of the trick. "Are you asking me 'the boyfriend' question?"
"Um, no." Ryan said after a moment’s delay. "Come on, we'll just stop by Spencer's," Ryan said as he walked out the door.
"But the previews!!"
"We already missed them by now. We'll just catch the next showing. Come on," he said as he got into his car.
"Hey, wait, should I change then?"
"What? Why?"
"Well, what if someone recognizes me, I might start a commotion," I said as I buckled myself in Ryan's car.
Ryan placed the car into gear, but didn’t pull out of the driveway. He looked at me for a second. "That can't be helped. No matter what you wear I think you'll inevitably cause a commotion."
"So, I'd be recognized causing a commotion."
"But I won't be."
"You're ashamed to be seen with me, Ryan Ross!"
"No, no, it's not that at all. I don't mind being seen with you. I like it, in fact. But think about it, this is our first date. I don't want creepy people snapping photos of private times like that. I just want this to be shared between you and me." Ryan paused as he bit his lip. "I mean, wouldn't you?
"Awww, that's like… damn, fuck, you're turning me to mush."
Ryan pulled out of the driveway as he smirked at me. "I could say the same."
ccc
So, Spencer gave Ryan his approval, but not before having a good laugh and taking me back to memory lane with a story of Ryan and his shirt.
Spencer said Ryan wasn’t wearing a real Famous shirt, it was only screen printed from a five-dollar store. The real shirt that he owned had actually been folded and framed. When Spencer got to that part though, the air seemed to change. Spencer exchanged a significant glance with Ryan, who looked at me a second later.
"Back to the future, Bren, our movie awaits." Ryan smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
It was times like these when I felt jealous of Spencer for the past that he shared with Ryan. He knew exactly what Ryan had been through. And he knew the exact memory that was going through Ryan's mind. Sometimes I wished I was Spencer, so I'd know, and I would be able to pull Ryan close and tell him that everything would be okay, that I was here for him. Of course, though, I didn’t know, not all of it. And I was sure as hell wasn’t going to prod him to tell me. I couldn’t. All I could do right then was hope that one day he would be ready to tell me.
"So, what are you guys watching?" Spencer clapped a hand on Ryan's shoulder. The gesture was something not out of the ordinary, but there was something in it. Ryan had visibly relaxed with Spencer’s touch. When I glanced at Spencer, I thought he noticed that I had noticed because he gave me this look, but I'm not really sure as it was gone before I could figure out what it was.
"The previews, I hope," Ryan said in answer to Spencer's question. He placed an arm around my shoulder and we turned to leave. "Later, Spence."
ccc
We ended up parking the car a couple blocks away from the theater. We walked by the shops and restaurants, not really saying anything, but we were holding hands and it was the best conversation I've ever had. He squeezed my hand when he came to a stop. I looked over and followed his gaze. It was a little mom and pop store. Ryan's eye twinkled.
I laughed when Ryan pulled me over to the shop. I knew he couldn’t resist. When we got inside we saw that it was a thrift store with antique, weird, and weirder being its theme.
Ryan laughed as he held up fake eyeballs that swirled when you shake them.
He placed them back into the bowl that carried them, and went further into the store. He waved politely to the cashier, who smiled and greeted us.
I followed Ryan, and fuck I was glad we came in, everything was there. "Hey, fanny pack!" I couldn’t believe it. I ran over to the rack of assorted bags. "Can you honestly say that you've seen someone in real life actually sport this?"
"No, no, I can't." Ryan said, eyebrows raised. "You could be the first."
"Your first?" I asked, bringing my voice just a little bit lower than usual. There's something about being first. Ryan's first. It made my heart swell. So, naturally, the occasion called for it to be extra special. I reached up to unhook the fanny pack from its display rack, and I made sure to extend my arm so that my shirt rid up, just enough to reveal a line of skin between my low rise jeans and patented red shirt. When I turned around slowly I knew that I played it well. Ryan was licking his lips and his eyes were trained on me, and only on me. I smiled my most seductive smile. "Like what you see?"
"Fuck, yes." Ryan met my eyes now. "Put it on," he whispered.
It may have sounded ridiculous, but it wasn't. Not in the slightest. He stood back as if to get a better view, he crossed one arm around his waist, his other hand came to meet his chin, a half smile played at his lips.
I put it on, clasping the strap around my waist. The pack was a bright kiwi lime color, totally uncool, which only made it totally cool.
"Bren, that's fucking hot." Ryan said without any hint of sarcasm. He walked up to me, his hand went slowly up my arm, over my shoulder, and then down my chest. A finger ran down my stomach until he reached the fanny pack covering my waist.
I momentarily lost my breath when he moved in even closer. I studied his face. His eyes were cast downwards as his gaze followed the movement of his hands. My breath hitched when I felt him hook his finger into the belt strap. He looked up then, and our eyes met. He smirked as he held my gaze. I heard the sound of a zipper and I knew Ryan was working the fanny pack open.
"Looks like I got it open. You don't mind, do you?" Ryan whispered.
I felt his breath lightly ghost across my cheek as I shook my head, telling him silently that 'no, no I didn't fucking mind at all.'
His hand was on my side again, his thumb moving in slow, circular motions on my hip. "What say you, I fill it up with something?" And I don't think that he was just talking about the fanny pack.
"Fill. Yes. Please." I guess I was reduced to one word answers.
Ryan reached behind me, his shoulder brushed mine as he grabbed something. And no it was not my behind, sadly. It was a lollipop, which he waved in front of me and placed it in my fanny pack, a smirk played on his lips. I so wanted to lean in and just kiss him. But he turned around then, and walked back to the isle of weird assorted things. I moved my way over to the weirder things.
Every now and then, Ryan would walk up to me, brushing a hand over my shoulder, my arm, or my side as he moved to add things in the pack. Each time his touch lingered just a little bit longer. I'm not sure if he was trying to kill me, but if he was, I wouldn't have minded this torturous death.
Several minutes passed by like this, until we met again in the middle of the shop. I was holding a feather boa when Ryan found me again. "We've got way too many of those." Ryan said as he turned around to look at a shelf of books.
"Says the man who has more scarves than shirts." I smirked. And this time, I walked up behind Ryan to whisper in his ear. "You know, you smell good," I said as I leaned my chin over his shoulder. I chanced a look at the lady at the register and she seemed to be working on a crossword puzzle so I figured we were safe. I guess Ryan decided it safe as well since I felt him lean back, into me. I wrapped an arm around his waist.
"Oh really?” came the soft reply. “Do I smell--what was it? Slutty?"
"That's what Spence said. And no, not like that at all, but it does make me want to do slutty things to you."
"By all means then, don't let me stop you," Ryan said, dropping his voice to a whisper. He turned around to face me and I took advantage of the face time, and pulled him in for a kiss. I kept it chaste, our lips barely touched as I breathed his scent in. He chuckled as he grabbed my hand that was slowly creeping up beneath his shirt. "God, Bren." He pulled my hand out from under his shirt and pulled me further into the store. The act itself was all very exciting, but what excited me even more, was the look in his eye. The look totally screamed, 'Brendon Urie, you're about to get extremely lucky.'
We passed a rack of shoes and ended up somewhere at the back of the store. Ryan was walking backwards, facing me, his fingers interlaced with mine. I smirked as he hit the wall behind him. I raised his hands above him and pinned them to the wall. He laughed as I claim his mouth again. I lightly ran my tongue along his lip to silently ask for permission to enter. He granted me full access. Our tongues slid against each other. He tasted refreshing.
"You're minty."
"Mint chapstick." He answered with a grin. I never really was a fan of mint, but I have to say, it quickly became my favorite flavor.
I took a moment to lick his bottom lip and I could taste his smile. "Mmmm." I tried to get even closer, my hand went to grip his hip and--
"Are you two boys finding everything okay?" A woman's voice tore us apart and we both whipped our heads towards the register, which wasn't in our line of vision anymore, and neither was the lady. We craned our necks and saw that she had started walking towards us. I shared a look with Ryan, who grinned, and when the lady made her way over, he politely asked for her help.
"Actually, yes, thank you..." he said as he pointed above him. "This display here, is it for sale?"
"The ballerina outfit? Yes. I don't really have a price for it, you know, I believe certain items in the store just can't be priced, normally items find their owner."
"So what's the story behind it?" Ryan asked, and he sounded genuinely interested. It was a tutu, mind you, but I think he really wanted to know. I watched Ryan as he nodded at the appropriate times and even asked the lady a question or two as she went into detail of where the tutu came from and how it came to be here.
I glanced at her and then back at Ryan when I felt that the room had gone silent. Ryan was looking at the tutu and he reached up to retrieve it. "I'll take it." Ryan smiled.
The lady, who looked like she had teared up at some point, giggled and swatted Ryan's arm. Playfully.
ccc
Ryan actually set the price, the lady was more than happy to accept the offer and we walked out of the store six hundred and twenty dollars lighter.
"You know, you could have offered her less. See this," I pointed to my fanny pack. "Twenty bucks. And it includes everything in it. It's called haggling, you should try it sometime."
Ryan looked at me as he swung the big brown paper bag between us. "I know what haggling is. But for this, it was worth it, you weren't listening to her story were you?"
"I was too."
"You were not. You were too busy staring at me the whole time."
"Wha--I was not!” I retorted, but I could tell that Ryan wasn’t buying it. “Er, how did you know?"
"You were laying the gaze on pretty thick, it's kind of hard not to feel it."
"I so wasn't." I muttered. I caught Ryan rolling his eyes. "So, what's the story then?"
"I guess you'll find out soon enough." Ryan smiled and I noticed belatedly that we were heading to the car again. And before I could ask, he was unlocking the door. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the car and gently pushed me against it.
And before I knew what was happening, Ryan's hand was in my hair, his other was on my hip, holding me to the car, and to be honest, nothing would have gotten me to move from my place.
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"You have got to be kidding me."
"You say that as if you haven't worn stranger things before."
"But this is you, wanting me to wear it."
"All the more reason for you to wear it." Ryan said, smiling up at me as he adjusted my skirt. Yes, I said skirt.
Ryan had this idea that I should try on the tutu we got from the store. I still have no idea of his reasoning behind it.
"At least you still got your pants on." He pointed out.
"Is this some kind of kink you have?" I asked, still disbelieving. "Wait, if it is, were you like strangely turned on when Dan dressed in a tutu and crashed our stage?"
"No. And it's not a kink, just an experiment." Ryan grinned. "Although, you do look rather hot."
"I always look hot." I waggled my brows and wrapped my arms around Ryan's shoulders. Ryan laughed and wrapped his own arms around my pink tutu covered waist.
Ryan leaned his forehead to mine. "Come on," he whispered against my lips. He gave me a chaste kiss and then pulled away. "Come on."
"Huh? Wuh-why--what?"
"Date's not over." Ryan smirked.
"But we were just getting to the good stuff." I called out to his retreating form.
"I promise this would be just as good." He replied without looking back.
"Let me take this off first," I made a move to undress before Ryan could reach the front door.
And that got his attention. He paused mid-step and turned to face me. "Leave it on, come on, it'll be... fun."
"I'd rather not have someone beat me up on our first date, Ross. I look like—Well, I look like a fucking fairy.” I said, needing to stand my ground.
"I like fairies." Was all that he said as he walked back to me and took my hand to lead me out the door. And somehow I moved.
"Wait," I pulled back before we stepped out. "I forgot my fanny pack!" Ryan stood by the doorway and waited for me. Damn right, I could be assertive.
ccc
We ended up walking to the park and it was deserted. Thank the powers that be.
Ryan hurried over to the swing. For a moment, I forgot who I was with.
I followed and sat in the swing beside him.
And before I asked, Ryan answered: "Today... today, is actually my dad's birthday."
I nodded and waited for him to talk. Words didn't come again for some time, but when it did, the words were few, but the few words were heavy, solid, thick, and there was no mistaking the meaning behind the words.
"Growing up, it's easier than you think." Ryan pushed off, setting himself into motion. "Swing with me Brendon." Ryan called out.
I backed my swing up as far as it could go before lifting my feet completely off the ground. I used my weight to quickly get up to speed to match Ryan's.
When our swings fell into sync, Ryan looked at me and laughed.
The sound was contagious and I found myself out of breath, laughing along with him. My swings became sloppy from shifting, and before I knew it, I was down when he was up, and when he was down I went up. For a second there was this moment, where something clicked when we passed each other, our gazes somehow met. It was only for a second, laws of physics didn't allow for a second more, but it was all the time that I needed to realize that this was it. This. Was. It.
Ryan might not tell me everything, probably never will. I found that I was okay with that. I didn't need anything more, so long as Ryan was with me.
I had unconsciously slowed to a stop, and I could hear Ryan talking again. He had stopped as well.
"So, the tutu story, believe it or not, it was the most far-fetched story I have ever heard of, but I gotta say, it makes you think that maybe, maybe it did happen."
I was about to ask him what had happened, but then three guys came into the picture.
"Hey, check out the homos on the swings!" One of them called out.
"And one's in a fucking dress!" Another one yelled as he pointed. The other one, beside him, laughed.
I was about ready to jump out of my swing in a rage when Ryan's hand came into my line of vision. I looked over, and before I could speak on our behalf, Ryan started talking before I could get a word in.
"Why don't you come over here for a better look and call me a homo to my face."
"As if I'd come close to you, who knows what I'd catch," the guy said, but he was walking towards us anyway. With each step, he got closer and closer to us.
I looked over at Ryan and wondered what the hell he was thinking. My adrenaline was pumping and I was ready for anything. But apparently, as I sat frozen in my swing, I wasn't prepared for when the guy got close enough to where I could see his face.
I didn't see it for long though, for as soon as I was able to make out his features, he dropped out of my line of sight. It all went by so fast. Ryan had ducked out of his swing and got down to pull the guys feet right from under him, so that the man fell backwards onto his back. The thud of his head hitting the floor is what pulled me out of my shock.
I looked up to see where the guy's friends have gone, but they weren’t in sight, the fucker's friends had left him. Served him right.
"Ryan, are you--" I started and then glanced at Ryan, who was straddling the guy. He was sitting on the man's stomach, bunching a fistful of his shirt as he hovered above him. The guy looked ready to beg for mercy as he tried to struggle to break free, his hands were trapped under Ryan, who held them down under the weight of his body with his knees. The more the man tried to pull his hands away, the more Ryan crushed his hands into the gritty ground.
"You fucking fuck!" The man bit out in between breaths, as Ryan had one of his hands at his throat, seemingly, cutting off his air supply.
How could Ryan hold down a guy who could easily pass for double of his weight? Well, I have no clue, but I think part of it had to do with Ryan's look that screamed murder.
I didn't hear Ryan say anything after he got the other man on the floor, but he got him where he wanted him, and I don’t think Ryan had to say anything to make the other guy want to shrivel up and die for insulting us. "So, now that we're face to face, what were you saying?" Ryan was asking now, he released his grip on the man's throat.
"I was--I..."
"What? What was that, gonna apologize?"
For a brief second I thought that he would do exactly what Ryan wanted, but then it seemed that the question only drew him out of his shock. "No, fuck no, get the fuck off me, you fucking fag--"
His insult was cut short as the hand that once held his throat was now in his hair. Ryan pulled it to lift up the man’s head off the ground, only to slam it back down again onto the floor. Thud.
"Fuck! Fuck, what are you some kind of--"
"Shut up and apologize, you fucking piece of shit!"
Thud went his head, again.
And then, and then Ryan got him.
"Okay, okay, fuck, just stop."
"Say it."
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. Fuck, my head! Please… just get off." The man said. And I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
"Get the fuck out of here," Ryan growled out, as he lifted off the man.
And as Ryan went to stand, it looked as if the guy was debating whether or not to strike, and that's when I moved forward, ready now to attack if necessary.
But Ryan, of course, had the upper hand, and by the look on his face, it seemed that he knew of the possibility that the situation might not go as planned. If there was even a plan. In any case, he looked confident.
The guy pushed himself to a sitting position and rubbed the back of his head. "Fuck."
"No thanks," Ryan said. "I don't fuck homophobes."
And the guy had the audacity to laugh as he got up on his feet.
I moved closer to Ryan in case if something were to go wrong, horribly wrong. And how the fuck was Ryan looking so calm, as if he knew he had everything under control?
The guy took another step forward, and Ryan didn't even flinch as he drew near.
"Get the fuck away from him!" I said, finding my voice now.
The guy looked at me; he actually looked at me from head to toe, and grinned. I tried to look intimidating, but I knew I failed before I even said a word. I was, after all, wearing a pink tutu. It was a good thing thought that I had my fanny pack, at least that was cool. He looked back at Ryan, "I uhh, I'm really sorry." He said.
Ryan lifted up an eyebrow as he folded his arm across his chest. "Of course you are. If you weren't sorry, I'd likely rip your fucking balls off."
The guy puts up his hands, as if surrendering. "Ouch," he said, smirking now.
What. The. Fuck? Is he like, flirting now? I couldn’t believe it.
Ryan didn't say anything, and the guy took the silence as a cue to talk again.
"So, uhm, are you guys from around here?"
"No," Ryan said.
We were actually just a block over.
"Pity, well, next time you're in Vegas come to Stakes sometime. I'm Marcus, by the way. And you are?" He asked this as if Ryan didn't just slam his head into the ground three times.
"None of your business." Ryan replied, as he backed away now and sat on the swing again, looking bored.
"Right. Of course." The man nodded and then turned to leave.
Again, what the fuck?
"What the fuck just happened there?"
"Fuck if I know, you saw it happen. The guy's mental." Ryan shrugged as he started to slowly swing again.
I saw it happen all right, but I had no idea what I saw right then.
ccc
When we got back to my house, Ryan went over to our DVD collection. An assortment of movies. I'm not even sure who owns what. We've accumulated the collection as a band, while we were on our tours.
"What you want to watch?"
"I don't know, anything." I said as I took off the tutu and threw it on the table.
"You don't have an opinion on what you want to watch? That's a first." Ryan quirked an eyebrow.
I joined him on the couch. "Tell me about the tutu."
"So now you want to know? Well, according to what the lady told me, it belonged to a transvestite," Ryan started off. He had my full attention. I nodded.
Ryan chuckled, brought his feet up onto the couch and leaned into me, so that we were huddled in the corner of the couch. "He wanted to be a dancer, a ballet dancer. He thought he would be ridiculed for being male so he dressed as a female, thinking that way no one would know.
He learned to dance; he was a natural--had the grace, the beauty, and he had the audience. He was on top of the world and no one knew, not even his family."
"Surely, someone knew." I said, already knowing that the story couldn’t end well, but I waited for Ryan to continue.
"No one." Ryan whispered. "That is until his father found out… He had seen a flyer that featured his son as the main attraction at the next show. His son may have been dressed as a woman and going by an alias, but the father recognized his son, like a father should."
"Wait, don't tell me, the father freaked and stopped his son from dancing," I said bitterly.
"No, actually, he didn't."
"So it's a happy story then?"
"Just let me finish." Ryan swatted my arm.
"I'm not stopping you." I grinned.
"Okay, so, his father didn't freak. Didn't even yell. As the story goes, the father only wanted the best for his son. His son is the only thing left of his wife after she died. So, when he found out, he decided to watch him perform. And on that night, he brought with him... this tutu." Ryan sat up to reach for the pink material that was on the table in front of us and lifted it up, displaying it. He ran his fingers into the fabric. "This tutu belonged to the boy's mother. As it turns out, the boy’s mother was quite the popular ballerina back in her day."
"Looks like he takes after her."
Ryan smiled before he continued. "Even if the costume wouldn't fit, the boy's father had to tell his son. He had to tell his son that he didn't need to hide, that he would understand, that he was proud that his son carried the same gift that his wife had--dance." Ryan's voice dropped to a whisper, and then: "It was said that the father, who didn't believe in anything but rules and guidelines, work and no play, fell in love with a girl, who danced her way into his heart."
"Aww that's so sweet."
Ryan nodded. "So, the father made his way to the theatre, stood in back and watched his son dance for the first time." Ryan cleared his throat, he looked at me for a second and then his gaze drifted to his hand that was idly running through my hair. A few more seconds passed before he began again, his voice this time sounded far away, distant. "After the performance, the dancers lined up to take their final bow. The show was a success. People standing, clapping. The applause didn't die down for minutes, minutes that felt like hours, and at the same time, like seconds. You know the feeling?" Ryan said not as a question, but as fact.
The soft, smooth lull of his voice continued, his gaze was focused straight ahead, but I'm sure that what he was seeing was the very scene that he was creating with his words. "The boy, dressed as a girl, took another bow, or curtsy, rather, as the audience screamed out his stage name. It was beautiful. The father cheered silently in the back and watched until his son disappeared behind the curtain."
"That's beautiful."
"It is." Ryan nodded. "There's more to the story though. The father had waited outside for his son to come out through the backdoor, knowing by experience that the dancers never exited the theatres through the front door. Not for this theatre anyway. So, the father waited and waited. He watched other dancers leave through the door. He dared not ask whether they knew of his son, even they probably didn't know that a boy was among the all female cast of ballet dancers. He didn't want to unwittingly out his son. So, he waited. He waited until he couldn't stand any longer, so on heavy legs, he went in. He found his son's private dressing room by a piece of paper that held the boy's stage name. And pushed the door open." Ryan licked his lips, his voice cracked as he tried to find his words. "The father... he walked in and found his son naked, broken, and dead on the dressing room floor."
Fuck.
"Six stab wounds lined up the boy's chest." Ryan continued. "The father had to bury his only son. He then killed himself two weeks later."
"Fuck."
Ryan didn't say anything more, he just leaned his head in the crook of my shoulder. I looked down at him, and wondered if he was always this small.
Not wanting to break the silence, but needing to know, I whispered, "Why buy the outfit, Ryan?"
"The lady said that the father left a note, it was actually a card, probably written the night he was to give the costume to his son, it read: 'To my gift, perfectness isn't meant to be disguised, but worn, even in a world with imperfect eyes.'"
I looked at Ryan and for a moment we just sat there, unseeing as we let our minds run away from us.
"Ryan?"
"Yeah?"
"I had fun and all, but could we like just go to the movies the next time we go out?"
"It's a date." Ryan chuckled.
"Ryan?" I asked again.
"Yeah?"
"You made that all up, didn't you?"
"What makes you think that?" Ryan said as he yawned.
"Well, did you?"
"You say that as if I could come up with something like that."
"Because you could."
"I wouldn't have paid six-hundred dollars for a dress that had no meaning, Bren."
"Yeah, yeah, you would." I said.
"Bren?"
"Yeah?"
"You believe there are people like that, right?"
I thought of my own father, and even if he wasn't exactly accepting of my career choice, I never doubted his love for me. "Yeah, the world is full of 'em."
Ryan nodded, and for a second I saw his smile meet his eyes. "Thanks for being my ballerina tonight, Bren."
"Don't mention it. Really, don't." Ryan nodded as I said this, and I realized, belatedly, what he really meant. I was caught off guard, but that's okay, because there's still time for these moments.
"Awww, come on, you were a beautiful ballerina." Ryan laughed as the moment passed.
"Sometimes I think that you only want me for my looks." I rolled my eyes. And I kissed Ryan's temple.
"Not even, I also love you because you bring in the money." Ryan laughed, and then as my eyes go round at the 'L' word, he stopped laughing abruptly. I think he realized what he just said. "I mean..."
"I know exactly what you mean, and I feel the same way. I love you because you can slay vampires if you wanted to." I know he knew that was not the reason why I loved him (well, not the main reason, anyway), but I figured if I let him slide on his slip-up, he wouldn't do something stupid, like retract it.
And his bashful smile told me that my cover-up worked; he was going to let me, let him get away with it. I mean, declarations of love aren't necessary, not yet anyway. But if he happened to slip again, like, while we are on our second date or something, I would call him on it. Using the 'L' word on second dates are totally fair game, at least when you've been in a relationship like ours.
So, second date here we... come?
Haha, if only you knew.
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Author Notes Part II: If you had commented with a prompt H E R E, I promise, i'll get to them. :D
Author:
calidearieRating: R
Pairing: Ryden
POV: Brendon's
Summary: Brendon woos Ryan, Ryan dresses Brendon, Brendon saves Ryan... it's all give and take on a first date.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, they own themselves. Abandoned Pools owns the cut-text.
Author Notes: (1)
longerthanwedo rocks!Dedications: This chapter is dedicated to [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com], who was not only FC for the third chapter, but also gave me the prompts: tutu, minty chapstick and fanny pack, which inspired me for this chapter. Thank you [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com], hope you like it!
Teh Love Story
Ryan Named Me (or chapter one of my love story)
Ryan Kissed Me (or chapter two of my love story)
Ryan Found Me (or chapter three of my love story)
Ryan Saved Me (or chapter four of my love story)
Ryan Virginated Me (or chapter five of my love story)
Ryan F&cked Me (or chapter six of my love story)
Ryan Loves Me (or the last chapter, but not the end to my love)
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So, we're getting to the good stuff. First date kind of good, or bad, depending on how you look at it. If you are like me and see a glass as half full, then you'd think my first date with Ryan was a total success.
Half empty people may see it as a total disaster, but I beg to differ as we did make it to our second date. I guess though, saying that is a bit unfair as you didn't know that there was a second date. I’m getting ahead of myself. You don't even know the details of our first date. Well, I guess that will soon change.
Imagine that, everything I say, I guess, could be taken at face value. You'd believe me, right? As it is my story, my point of view, my perception. Wow, that's a powerful thing. I guess I'm kind of like… Spiderman, and you know what they say, "With great power comes great responsibility."
Spiderman and I… we understand things like that. And more importantly, Spiderman is Ryan's favorite superhero, true fact. So I guess I'm like Ryan’s superhero in a sense. It could be true, you know?
Well, superhero or not, success or not, it was our first date, and if you happened to see us that night, you might have thought we were crazy. Well, if that was crazy just wait until I tell you about this one time when we thought it'd be fun to out ourselves. To my family, that is.
Anyway, back to my first date with Ryan. Be warned, there was a little death involved. I'm not kidding. So, if that’s not your thing, don't read further. If it's all the same to you, read on. But don't say that I didn't give you fair warning.
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"Come on, Ryan, hurry up already! The previews--the PREVIEWS! Ryannnnn, we're gonna miss the previews!"
Three minutes later, or two previews that we could have been watching later, Ryan finally descended the stairs and fuck… if looks could kill, I was surely dead.
It's not as if Ryan was dressed up or anything, actually it was quite the opposite, he was like, dressed down.
I've never seen him look so… so boyish in real life, only in pictures from a lifetime ago, back in his Pet Salamander days. I watched him come to a stop before me. He was wearing a black Famous shirt, a nondescript black hat, and slightly baggy blue jeans. "Wow, you look… cute, hot even!"
"I was going for normal."
"Why?" I said, clearly confused. "Face it, Ryan, no matter what you wear, you won't look normal."
"Thanks, Bren." He said, sarcastically.
"You know what I mean." I smirked as I moved around him, trying to see him at all angles. And seemingly at all angles, Ryan was looking rather delicious. It took me another few seconds to make my way in front of Ryan again. Damn…
"So?" Ryan raised his eyebrow in question.
"I can see your boxers. And they're printed." I grinned and I could hardly contain my excitement. To be honest, I didn't know what I was feeling at this point, excited, turned on, or just positively giddy from feeling both.
"What do you think?"
I put my hand to my chin, and really it was an unconscious movement, and I really was trying to decide what to say. "You never asked me that before. You always wear what you want."
"Yeah, well, I'm trying to fit in the crowd of moviegoers here. We're not recognizable when we're not going out as a band, but I kinda hope that we'll get through this night unscathed. So the less the attention, the better."
"Well, in that case, you utterly fail."
"What? But this is the kind of thing I wore back--"
"--When you were baby Ryan?"
"Uh."
"Is that the same shirt I saw you in on your website?"
"What website?" and then: "Oh--Ohhh! You saw that?" Ryan asked, almost blushing. "Is that site still up? Anyway, yeah, it's the same shirt, I guess."
"Well, not that you got fat or anything, but you grew into it somehow, or it shrunk." I said as I touched the fabric. It was very nice, very, very nice. "It's all soft and worn. Hey, how about a change of plans?"
"Oh no, we're doing this. We need to go out, I'm gonna crack from lack of outside exposure. The walls are closing in, Bren."
"But. Soft. So soft." I said and I admit I was practically rubbing my body all over him, trying to get as much contact as I could.
After a minute or two Ryan gasped, and I thought I may have unintentionally rubbed a certain part of his anatomy to cause such a reaction. So I did it again, intentionally this time, earning another similar reaction. And then much to my dismay, he gently pushed me away at arm's length.
"Don't give me that pout. You promised me a date. And we're going to go on this date. Or I swear I'll--"
"Okay, okay."
"Good, so just tell me if I pass or what. I'm thinking maybe if I can't pull off the look, it'll only cause more attention--unwanted attention like, you know, let's go beat the crap out of that loser, that kind of thing?"
"Huh. I don't think that situation would apply to any of your looks, I mean, you carry it well, whatever you wear."
"Are you just saying that because you're my boyfriend?"
I never really understood how that worked, the question, and what the fuck the answer is supposed to be. I think 'no' is the proper answer but why the fuck would anyone would say 'yes' is beyond me. But then again, I think that’s all part of the trick. "Are you asking me 'the boyfriend' question?"
"Um, no." Ryan said after a moment’s delay. "Come on, we'll just stop by Spencer's," Ryan said as he walked out the door.
"But the previews!!"
"We already missed them by now. We'll just catch the next showing. Come on," he said as he got into his car.
"Hey, wait, should I change then?"
"What? Why?"
"Well, what if someone recognizes me, I might start a commotion," I said as I buckled myself in Ryan's car.
Ryan placed the car into gear, but didn’t pull out of the driveway. He looked at me for a second. "That can't be helped. No matter what you wear I think you'll inevitably cause a commotion."
"So, I'd be recognized causing a commotion."
"But I won't be."
"You're ashamed to be seen with me, Ryan Ross!"
"No, no, it's not that at all. I don't mind being seen with you. I like it, in fact. But think about it, this is our first date. I don't want creepy people snapping photos of private times like that. I just want this to be shared between you and me." Ryan paused as he bit his lip. "I mean, wouldn't you?
"Awww, that's like… damn, fuck, you're turning me to mush."
Ryan pulled out of the driveway as he smirked at me. "I could say the same."
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So, Spencer gave Ryan his approval, but not before having a good laugh and taking me back to memory lane with a story of Ryan and his shirt.
Spencer said Ryan wasn’t wearing a real Famous shirt, it was only screen printed from a five-dollar store. The real shirt that he owned had actually been folded and framed. When Spencer got to that part though, the air seemed to change. Spencer exchanged a significant glance with Ryan, who looked at me a second later.
"Back to the future, Bren, our movie awaits." Ryan smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
It was times like these when I felt jealous of Spencer for the past that he shared with Ryan. He knew exactly what Ryan had been through. And he knew the exact memory that was going through Ryan's mind. Sometimes I wished I was Spencer, so I'd know, and I would be able to pull Ryan close and tell him that everything would be okay, that I was here for him. Of course, though, I didn’t know, not all of it. And I was sure as hell wasn’t going to prod him to tell me. I couldn’t. All I could do right then was hope that one day he would be ready to tell me.
"So, what are you guys watching?" Spencer clapped a hand on Ryan's shoulder. The gesture was something not out of the ordinary, but there was something in it. Ryan had visibly relaxed with Spencer’s touch. When I glanced at Spencer, I thought he noticed that I had noticed because he gave me this look, but I'm not really sure as it was gone before I could figure out what it was.
"The previews, I hope," Ryan said in answer to Spencer's question. He placed an arm around my shoulder and we turned to leave. "Later, Spence."
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We ended up parking the car a couple blocks away from the theater. We walked by the shops and restaurants, not really saying anything, but we were holding hands and it was the best conversation I've ever had. He squeezed my hand when he came to a stop. I looked over and followed his gaze. It was a little mom and pop store. Ryan's eye twinkled.
I laughed when Ryan pulled me over to the shop. I knew he couldn’t resist. When we got inside we saw that it was a thrift store with antique, weird, and weirder being its theme.
Ryan laughed as he held up fake eyeballs that swirled when you shake them.
He placed them back into the bowl that carried them, and went further into the store. He waved politely to the cashier, who smiled and greeted us.
I followed Ryan, and fuck I was glad we came in, everything was there. "Hey, fanny pack!" I couldn’t believe it. I ran over to the rack of assorted bags. "Can you honestly say that you've seen someone in real life actually sport this?"
"No, no, I can't." Ryan said, eyebrows raised. "You could be the first."
"Your first?" I asked, bringing my voice just a little bit lower than usual. There's something about being first. Ryan's first. It made my heart swell. So, naturally, the occasion called for it to be extra special. I reached up to unhook the fanny pack from its display rack, and I made sure to extend my arm so that my shirt rid up, just enough to reveal a line of skin between my low rise jeans and patented red shirt. When I turned around slowly I knew that I played it well. Ryan was licking his lips and his eyes were trained on me, and only on me. I smiled my most seductive smile. "Like what you see?"
"Fuck, yes." Ryan met my eyes now. "Put it on," he whispered.
It may have sounded ridiculous, but it wasn't. Not in the slightest. He stood back as if to get a better view, he crossed one arm around his waist, his other hand came to meet his chin, a half smile played at his lips.
I put it on, clasping the strap around my waist. The pack was a bright kiwi lime color, totally uncool, which only made it totally cool.
"Bren, that's fucking hot." Ryan said without any hint of sarcasm. He walked up to me, his hand went slowly up my arm, over my shoulder, and then down my chest. A finger ran down my stomach until he reached the fanny pack covering my waist.
I momentarily lost my breath when he moved in even closer. I studied his face. His eyes were cast downwards as his gaze followed the movement of his hands. My breath hitched when I felt him hook his finger into the belt strap. He looked up then, and our eyes met. He smirked as he held my gaze. I heard the sound of a zipper and I knew Ryan was working the fanny pack open.
"Looks like I got it open. You don't mind, do you?" Ryan whispered.
I felt his breath lightly ghost across my cheek as I shook my head, telling him silently that 'no, no I didn't fucking mind at all.'
His hand was on my side again, his thumb moving in slow, circular motions on my hip. "What say you, I fill it up with something?" And I don't think that he was just talking about the fanny pack.
"Fill. Yes. Please." I guess I was reduced to one word answers.
Ryan reached behind me, his shoulder brushed mine as he grabbed something. And no it was not my behind, sadly. It was a lollipop, which he waved in front of me and placed it in my fanny pack, a smirk played on his lips. I so wanted to lean in and just kiss him. But he turned around then, and walked back to the isle of weird assorted things. I moved my way over to the weirder things.
Every now and then, Ryan would walk up to me, brushing a hand over my shoulder, my arm, or my side as he moved to add things in the pack. Each time his touch lingered just a little bit longer. I'm not sure if he was trying to kill me, but if he was, I wouldn't have minded this torturous death.
Several minutes passed by like this, until we met again in the middle of the shop. I was holding a feather boa when Ryan found me again. "We've got way too many of those." Ryan said as he turned around to look at a shelf of books.
"Says the man who has more scarves than shirts." I smirked. And this time, I walked up behind Ryan to whisper in his ear. "You know, you smell good," I said as I leaned my chin over his shoulder. I chanced a look at the lady at the register and she seemed to be working on a crossword puzzle so I figured we were safe. I guess Ryan decided it safe as well since I felt him lean back, into me. I wrapped an arm around his waist.
"Oh really?” came the soft reply. “Do I smell--what was it? Slutty?"
"That's what Spence said. And no, not like that at all, but it does make me want to do slutty things to you."
"By all means then, don't let me stop you," Ryan said, dropping his voice to a whisper. He turned around to face me and I took advantage of the face time, and pulled him in for a kiss. I kept it chaste, our lips barely touched as I breathed his scent in. He chuckled as he grabbed my hand that was slowly creeping up beneath his shirt. "God, Bren." He pulled my hand out from under his shirt and pulled me further into the store. The act itself was all very exciting, but what excited me even more, was the look in his eye. The look totally screamed, 'Brendon Urie, you're about to get extremely lucky.'
We passed a rack of shoes and ended up somewhere at the back of the store. Ryan was walking backwards, facing me, his fingers interlaced with mine. I smirked as he hit the wall behind him. I raised his hands above him and pinned them to the wall. He laughed as I claim his mouth again. I lightly ran my tongue along his lip to silently ask for permission to enter. He granted me full access. Our tongues slid against each other. He tasted refreshing.
"You're minty."
"Mint chapstick." He answered with a grin. I never really was a fan of mint, but I have to say, it quickly became my favorite flavor.
I took a moment to lick his bottom lip and I could taste his smile. "Mmmm." I tried to get even closer, my hand went to grip his hip and--
"Are you two boys finding everything okay?" A woman's voice tore us apart and we both whipped our heads towards the register, which wasn't in our line of vision anymore, and neither was the lady. We craned our necks and saw that she had started walking towards us. I shared a look with Ryan, who grinned, and when the lady made her way over, he politely asked for her help.
"Actually, yes, thank you..." he said as he pointed above him. "This display here, is it for sale?"
"The ballerina outfit? Yes. I don't really have a price for it, you know, I believe certain items in the store just can't be priced, normally items find their owner."
"So what's the story behind it?" Ryan asked, and he sounded genuinely interested. It was a tutu, mind you, but I think he really wanted to know. I watched Ryan as he nodded at the appropriate times and even asked the lady a question or two as she went into detail of where the tutu came from and how it came to be here.
I glanced at her and then back at Ryan when I felt that the room had gone silent. Ryan was looking at the tutu and he reached up to retrieve it. "I'll take it." Ryan smiled.
The lady, who looked like she had teared up at some point, giggled and swatted Ryan's arm. Playfully.
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Ryan actually set the price, the lady was more than happy to accept the offer and we walked out of the store six hundred and twenty dollars lighter.
"You know, you could have offered her less. See this," I pointed to my fanny pack. "Twenty bucks. And it includes everything in it. It's called haggling, you should try it sometime."
Ryan looked at me as he swung the big brown paper bag between us. "I know what haggling is. But for this, it was worth it, you weren't listening to her story were you?"
"I was too."
"You were not. You were too busy staring at me the whole time."
"Wha--I was not!” I retorted, but I could tell that Ryan wasn’t buying it. “Er, how did you know?"
"You were laying the gaze on pretty thick, it's kind of hard not to feel it."
"I so wasn't." I muttered. I caught Ryan rolling his eyes. "So, what's the story then?"
"I guess you'll find out soon enough." Ryan smiled and I noticed belatedly that we were heading to the car again. And before I could ask, he was unlocking the door. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the car and gently pushed me against it.
And before I knew what was happening, Ryan's hand was in my hair, his other was on my hip, holding me to the car, and to be honest, nothing would have gotten me to move from my place.
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"You have got to be kidding me."
"You say that as if you haven't worn stranger things before."
"But this is you, wanting me to wear it."
"All the more reason for you to wear it." Ryan said, smiling up at me as he adjusted my skirt. Yes, I said skirt.
Ryan had this idea that I should try on the tutu we got from the store. I still have no idea of his reasoning behind it.
"At least you still got your pants on." He pointed out.
"Is this some kind of kink you have?" I asked, still disbelieving. "Wait, if it is, were you like strangely turned on when Dan dressed in a tutu and crashed our stage?"
"No. And it's not a kink, just an experiment." Ryan grinned. "Although, you do look rather hot."
"I always look hot." I waggled my brows and wrapped my arms around Ryan's shoulders. Ryan laughed and wrapped his own arms around my pink tutu covered waist.
Ryan leaned his forehead to mine. "Come on," he whispered against my lips. He gave me a chaste kiss and then pulled away. "Come on."
"Huh? Wuh-why--what?"
"Date's not over." Ryan smirked.
"But we were just getting to the good stuff." I called out to his retreating form.
"I promise this would be just as good." He replied without looking back.
"Let me take this off first," I made a move to undress before Ryan could reach the front door.
And that got his attention. He paused mid-step and turned to face me. "Leave it on, come on, it'll be... fun."
"I'd rather not have someone beat me up on our first date, Ross. I look like—Well, I look like a fucking fairy.” I said, needing to stand my ground.
"I like fairies." Was all that he said as he walked back to me and took my hand to lead me out the door. And somehow I moved.
"Wait," I pulled back before we stepped out. "I forgot my fanny pack!" Ryan stood by the doorway and waited for me. Damn right, I could be assertive.
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We ended up walking to the park and it was deserted. Thank the powers that be.
Ryan hurried over to the swing. For a moment, I forgot who I was with.
I followed and sat in the swing beside him.
And before I asked, Ryan answered: "Today... today, is actually my dad's birthday."
I nodded and waited for him to talk. Words didn't come again for some time, but when it did, the words were few, but the few words were heavy, solid, thick, and there was no mistaking the meaning behind the words.
"Growing up, it's easier than you think." Ryan pushed off, setting himself into motion. "Swing with me Brendon." Ryan called out.
I backed my swing up as far as it could go before lifting my feet completely off the ground. I used my weight to quickly get up to speed to match Ryan's.
When our swings fell into sync, Ryan looked at me and laughed.
The sound was contagious and I found myself out of breath, laughing along with him. My swings became sloppy from shifting, and before I knew it, I was down when he was up, and when he was down I went up. For a second there was this moment, where something clicked when we passed each other, our gazes somehow met. It was only for a second, laws of physics didn't allow for a second more, but it was all the time that I needed to realize that this was it. This. Was. It.
Ryan might not tell me everything, probably never will. I found that I was okay with that. I didn't need anything more, so long as Ryan was with me.
I had unconsciously slowed to a stop, and I could hear Ryan talking again. He had stopped as well.
"So, the tutu story, believe it or not, it was the most far-fetched story I have ever heard of, but I gotta say, it makes you think that maybe, maybe it did happen."
I was about to ask him what had happened, but then three guys came into the picture.
"Hey, check out the homos on the swings!" One of them called out.
"And one's in a fucking dress!" Another one yelled as he pointed. The other one, beside him, laughed.
I was about ready to jump out of my swing in a rage when Ryan's hand came into my line of vision. I looked over, and before I could speak on our behalf, Ryan started talking before I could get a word in.
"Why don't you come over here for a better look and call me a homo to my face."
"As if I'd come close to you, who knows what I'd catch," the guy said, but he was walking towards us anyway. With each step, he got closer and closer to us.
I looked over at Ryan and wondered what the hell he was thinking. My adrenaline was pumping and I was ready for anything. But apparently, as I sat frozen in my swing, I wasn't prepared for when the guy got close enough to where I could see his face.
I didn't see it for long though, for as soon as I was able to make out his features, he dropped out of my line of sight. It all went by so fast. Ryan had ducked out of his swing and got down to pull the guys feet right from under him, so that the man fell backwards onto his back. The thud of his head hitting the floor is what pulled me out of my shock.
I looked up to see where the guy's friends have gone, but they weren’t in sight, the fucker's friends had left him. Served him right.
"Ryan, are you--" I started and then glanced at Ryan, who was straddling the guy. He was sitting on the man's stomach, bunching a fistful of his shirt as he hovered above him. The guy looked ready to beg for mercy as he tried to struggle to break free, his hands were trapped under Ryan, who held them down under the weight of his body with his knees. The more the man tried to pull his hands away, the more Ryan crushed his hands into the gritty ground.
"You fucking fuck!" The man bit out in between breaths, as Ryan had one of his hands at his throat, seemingly, cutting off his air supply.
How could Ryan hold down a guy who could easily pass for double of his weight? Well, I have no clue, but I think part of it had to do with Ryan's look that screamed murder.
I didn't hear Ryan say anything after he got the other man on the floor, but he got him where he wanted him, and I don’t think Ryan had to say anything to make the other guy want to shrivel up and die for insulting us. "So, now that we're face to face, what were you saying?" Ryan was asking now, he released his grip on the man's throat.
"I was--I..."
"What? What was that, gonna apologize?"
For a brief second I thought that he would do exactly what Ryan wanted, but then it seemed that the question only drew him out of his shock. "No, fuck no, get the fuck off me, you fucking fag--"
His insult was cut short as the hand that once held his throat was now in his hair. Ryan pulled it to lift up the man’s head off the ground, only to slam it back down again onto the floor. Thud.
"Fuck! Fuck, what are you some kind of--"
"Shut up and apologize, you fucking piece of shit!"
Thud went his head, again.
And then, and then Ryan got him.
"Okay, okay, fuck, just stop."
"Say it."
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. Fuck, my head! Please… just get off." The man said. And I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
"Get the fuck out of here," Ryan growled out, as he lifted off the man.
And as Ryan went to stand, it looked as if the guy was debating whether or not to strike, and that's when I moved forward, ready now to attack if necessary.
But Ryan, of course, had the upper hand, and by the look on his face, it seemed that he knew of the possibility that the situation might not go as planned. If there was even a plan. In any case, he looked confident.
The guy pushed himself to a sitting position and rubbed the back of his head. "Fuck."
"No thanks," Ryan said. "I don't fuck homophobes."
And the guy had the audacity to laugh as he got up on his feet.
I moved closer to Ryan in case if something were to go wrong, horribly wrong. And how the fuck was Ryan looking so calm, as if he knew he had everything under control?
The guy took another step forward, and Ryan didn't even flinch as he drew near.
"Get the fuck away from him!" I said, finding my voice now.
The guy looked at me; he actually looked at me from head to toe, and grinned. I tried to look intimidating, but I knew I failed before I even said a word. I was, after all, wearing a pink tutu. It was a good thing thought that I had my fanny pack, at least that was cool. He looked back at Ryan, "I uhh, I'm really sorry." He said.
Ryan lifted up an eyebrow as he folded his arm across his chest. "Of course you are. If you weren't sorry, I'd likely rip your fucking balls off."
The guy puts up his hands, as if surrendering. "Ouch," he said, smirking now.
What. The. Fuck? Is he like, flirting now? I couldn’t believe it.
Ryan didn't say anything, and the guy took the silence as a cue to talk again.
"So, uhm, are you guys from around here?"
"No," Ryan said.
We were actually just a block over.
"Pity, well, next time you're in Vegas come to Stakes sometime. I'm Marcus, by the way. And you are?" He asked this as if Ryan didn't just slam his head into the ground three times.
"None of your business." Ryan replied, as he backed away now and sat on the swing again, looking bored.
"Right. Of course." The man nodded and then turned to leave.
Again, what the fuck?
"What the fuck just happened there?"
"Fuck if I know, you saw it happen. The guy's mental." Ryan shrugged as he started to slowly swing again.
I saw it happen all right, but I had no idea what I saw right then.
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When we got back to my house, Ryan went over to our DVD collection. An assortment of movies. I'm not even sure who owns what. We've accumulated the collection as a band, while we were on our tours.
"What you want to watch?"
"I don't know, anything." I said as I took off the tutu and threw it on the table.
"You don't have an opinion on what you want to watch? That's a first." Ryan quirked an eyebrow.
I joined him on the couch. "Tell me about the tutu."
"So now you want to know? Well, according to what the lady told me, it belonged to a transvestite," Ryan started off. He had my full attention. I nodded.
Ryan chuckled, brought his feet up onto the couch and leaned into me, so that we were huddled in the corner of the couch. "He wanted to be a dancer, a ballet dancer. He thought he would be ridiculed for being male so he dressed as a female, thinking that way no one would know.
He learned to dance; he was a natural--had the grace, the beauty, and he had the audience. He was on top of the world and no one knew, not even his family."
"Surely, someone knew." I said, already knowing that the story couldn’t end well, but I waited for Ryan to continue.
"No one." Ryan whispered. "That is until his father found out… He had seen a flyer that featured his son as the main attraction at the next show. His son may have been dressed as a woman and going by an alias, but the father recognized his son, like a father should."
"Wait, don't tell me, the father freaked and stopped his son from dancing," I said bitterly.
"No, actually, he didn't."
"So it's a happy story then?"
"Just let me finish." Ryan swatted my arm.
"I'm not stopping you." I grinned.
"Okay, so, his father didn't freak. Didn't even yell. As the story goes, the father only wanted the best for his son. His son is the only thing left of his wife after she died. So, when he found out, he decided to watch him perform. And on that night, he brought with him... this tutu." Ryan sat up to reach for the pink material that was on the table in front of us and lifted it up, displaying it. He ran his fingers into the fabric. "This tutu belonged to the boy's mother. As it turns out, the boy’s mother was quite the popular ballerina back in her day."
"Looks like he takes after her."
Ryan smiled before he continued. "Even if the costume wouldn't fit, the boy's father had to tell his son. He had to tell his son that he didn't need to hide, that he would understand, that he was proud that his son carried the same gift that his wife had--dance." Ryan's voice dropped to a whisper, and then: "It was said that the father, who didn't believe in anything but rules and guidelines, work and no play, fell in love with a girl, who danced her way into his heart."
"Aww that's so sweet."
Ryan nodded. "So, the father made his way to the theatre, stood in back and watched his son dance for the first time." Ryan cleared his throat, he looked at me for a second and then his gaze drifted to his hand that was idly running through my hair. A few more seconds passed before he began again, his voice this time sounded far away, distant. "After the performance, the dancers lined up to take their final bow. The show was a success. People standing, clapping. The applause didn't die down for minutes, minutes that felt like hours, and at the same time, like seconds. You know the feeling?" Ryan said not as a question, but as fact.
The soft, smooth lull of his voice continued, his gaze was focused straight ahead, but I'm sure that what he was seeing was the very scene that he was creating with his words. "The boy, dressed as a girl, took another bow, or curtsy, rather, as the audience screamed out his stage name. It was beautiful. The father cheered silently in the back and watched until his son disappeared behind the curtain."
"That's beautiful."
"It is." Ryan nodded. "There's more to the story though. The father had waited outside for his son to come out through the backdoor, knowing by experience that the dancers never exited the theatres through the front door. Not for this theatre anyway. So, the father waited and waited. He watched other dancers leave through the door. He dared not ask whether they knew of his son, even they probably didn't know that a boy was among the all female cast of ballet dancers. He didn't want to unwittingly out his son. So, he waited. He waited until he couldn't stand any longer, so on heavy legs, he went in. He found his son's private dressing room by a piece of paper that held the boy's stage name. And pushed the door open." Ryan licked his lips, his voice cracked as he tried to find his words. "The father... he walked in and found his son naked, broken, and dead on the dressing room floor."
Fuck.
"Six stab wounds lined up the boy's chest." Ryan continued. "The father had to bury his only son. He then killed himself two weeks later."
"Fuck."
Ryan didn't say anything more, he just leaned his head in the crook of my shoulder. I looked down at him, and wondered if he was always this small.
Not wanting to break the silence, but needing to know, I whispered, "Why buy the outfit, Ryan?"
"The lady said that the father left a note, it was actually a card, probably written the night he was to give the costume to his son, it read: 'To my gift, perfectness isn't meant to be disguised, but worn, even in a world with imperfect eyes.'"
I looked at Ryan and for a moment we just sat there, unseeing as we let our minds run away from us.
"Ryan?"
"Yeah?"
"I had fun and all, but could we like just go to the movies the next time we go out?"
"It's a date." Ryan chuckled.
"Ryan?" I asked again.
"Yeah?"
"You made that all up, didn't you?"
"What makes you think that?" Ryan said as he yawned.
"Well, did you?"
"You say that as if I could come up with something like that."
"Because you could."
"I wouldn't have paid six-hundred dollars for a dress that had no meaning, Bren."
"Yeah, yeah, you would." I said.
"Bren?"
"Yeah?"
"You believe there are people like that, right?"
I thought of my own father, and even if he wasn't exactly accepting of my career choice, I never doubted his love for me. "Yeah, the world is full of 'em."
Ryan nodded, and for a second I saw his smile meet his eyes. "Thanks for being my ballerina tonight, Bren."
"Don't mention it. Really, don't." Ryan nodded as I said this, and I realized, belatedly, what he really meant. I was caught off guard, but that's okay, because there's still time for these moments.
"Awww, come on, you were a beautiful ballerina." Ryan laughed as the moment passed.
"Sometimes I think that you only want me for my looks." I rolled my eyes. And I kissed Ryan's temple.
"Not even, I also love you because you bring in the money." Ryan laughed, and then as my eyes go round at the 'L' word, he stopped laughing abruptly. I think he realized what he just said. "I mean..."
"I know exactly what you mean, and I feel the same way. I love you because you can slay vampires if you wanted to." I know he knew that was not the reason why I loved him (well, not the main reason, anyway), but I figured if I let him slide on his slip-up, he wouldn't do something stupid, like retract it.
And his bashful smile told me that my cover-up worked; he was going to let me, let him get away with it. I mean, declarations of love aren't necessary, not yet anyway. But if he happened to slip again, like, while we are on our second date or something, I would call him on it. Using the 'L' word on second dates are totally fair game, at least when you've been in a relationship like ours.
So, second date here we... come?
Haha, if only you knew.
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Author Notes Part II: If you had commented with a prompt H E R E, I promise, i'll get to them. :D
