Ryden Oneshots

This Is Halloween

kid!brendon
everyone else is the same
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A D O R A B L E

Ryan’s pretty sure the only reason Brendon turns into a four-year-old is because they tell him that they’re not going trick-or-treating for Halloween, no way.

It’s a valid assumption. After all, it’s the next morning that they wake up to a naked little boy jumping up and down on the sofa and singing I Just Can’t Wait to be King at the top of his lungs. That’s actually the first clue that it’s Brendon.

The second is the way that when the other three crowd into the doorway and stare, the little boy launches himself across the room calling, “Morning hugs!” and clings to their knees, each in turn, with a cherubic smile and wide brown eyes peering up at them. For a minute they just stand there in shock, until finally Spencer says, “…Brendon?”

“Spenther!” Brendon yells, and Ryan can already tell he’s going to have a headache by the end of the hour. “Spenther! I have to pee!”

Spencer arches an eyebrow at the naked child who is still firmly attached to his leg, and Ryan whispers to him, “Do you think he’s house trained?” Spencer just rolls his eyes at Ryan and says, “Okay, um, Brendon, go for it.”

Then Brendon gets all quiet. “Will you come?” he asks, “There might be monsters, and you’re totally like a superhero, like Batman, and they wouldn’t do anything mean if you were there, so can you come please?” Spencer, of course, goes with him.

This leaves Ryan and Jon to stare at each other in shock. Finally Jon scrubs a hand through his hair and says, “Huh. He’s….”

“Yeah,” Ryan agrees, because there isn’t much else to say.

“Good thing we’ve got a couple days off, just in case. I’m going to make eggs for breakfast,” Jon says, and that’s that. Brendon is four and Jon is making breakfast.

When Spencer and Brendon reemerge from the bathroom, Brendon is hitched up on one of Spencer’s hips, giggling and clinging to his neck. “I didn’t miss at all!” he announces proudly, and Ryan laughs despite himself, because Brendon at four is ridiculously adorable, with just as much energy as normal Brendon, and even more in love with the world.

“Good job, little man,” Jon says from by the stove, turning and holding out his arms so Spencer can deposit Brendon into them. Jon lifts him up under the armpits and spins him so that Brendon screams in delight, kicking his tiny feet and holding his arms out like he’s flying. Finally he slows down, and says, “Hey, you should get some clothes on so if you spill breakfast you don’t get icky.”

Spencer snickers, and Jon says, “Don’t start with me, Smith. Icky is a real word.”

Brendon pipes up, “I want Ryan to help me get dressed!”

“Apparently little Brendon has no taste,” Ryan overhears Spencer whisper to Jon, but Jon clearly hasn’t forgiven him yet, because he whispers back, “Sweatbands, Spencer. Sweatbands.”

Ryan, for his part, squints at Brendon, who has squirmed out of Jon’s arms and onto the ground, and is now grabbing for Ryan’s hand, trying to tug him towards the bunks. “Come on,” he insists, and Ryan just has to go. The kid is naked, he has to.

Once they’re sitting in Brendon’s bunk, suitcase open before them, Ryan picks through it dubiously. None of Brendon’s stuff regressed with him, like Ryan had hoped it would (he would never, never tell anyone, but the thought of Brendon’s sneakers and pea coat in small form had been an exciting prospect).

“I wanna wear my dino pants,” Brendon says at last, when Ryan’s started to wonder if they’re going to need to make an emergency stop at Target and send in a trustworthy roadie.