Ryden Oneshots

Flying Just Like

Brendon was ready for the girls to stop bringing flowers now.

'Thanks,' he said to the girl at the foot of the steps. He smiled at her, taking the roses out of her hands and dropping his head to sniff them loudly. 'They're great.'

'They're for Ryan,' said the girl, her voice lifting on Ryan's name. She went up on her tiptoes, peering over Brendon's shoulder.

Brendon looked sideways to where Jon was standing in front of the door. 'No one loves us, Jon.' He sighed. 'They only ever want the pretty one.'

The girl dropped back on her heels, blushing. 'Oh, I -'

'It's okay.' Jon smiled at her. 'Ryan has a rosevest, we can't compete with that.'

'I think Ryan's still asleep, but we'll give them to him for you if you like,' said Brendon. 'What's your name?'

She told him and they signed her shirt for her before waving her off with Zack. 'She was nice,' said Brendon as they climbed back on to the bus.

'Yeah, not creepy. But - '

'More roses.' Brendon glanced around the room, wondering what to do with them. 'Maybe -' He grabbed a few of their empty beer bottles off the windowsill and walked into the kitchen with them, rinsing out the contents and slipping the flowers inside. He set them back down around the lounge in front of all Ryan's previous sets of roses, placing the final bottle in the centre of the coffee table.

'Nice,' said Jon, impressed. 'Now it's like we're an Italian restaurant or something.'

'A travelling Italian restaurant? Do they have those?'

'They should. All we need is candles.'

Brendon flicked his lighter on. 'Like this?'

'And a depressed violinist.'

'Or ...' Brendon crossed the room to his laptop, searching through his iTunes until the opening strains of a song from Moulin Rouge filled the air. 'El Tango de Roxanne.' He pasted an anguished expression on his face, shutting his eyes and taking hold of an invisible partner before stalking across the room in time with the strings.

'What are you doing?'

Brendon spun back, opening his eyes to see Ryan squinting at him from the doorway. His hair was sticking up all along one side.

'Ryan,' Brendon said brightly. 'You look like a toothbrush.'

Ryan stared at him.

Brendon coughed. He bowed low, flourishing his hand before him. 'May I 'ave zis dance?' he asked without looking up.

'I -'

'Great!' Brendon stood up and waggled his eyebrows at Ryan, plucking one of the roses out of the beer bottles and setting it carefully between his teeth, then reached out to take both of Ryan's hands. He placed one on his own shoulder, keeping the other clasped tight in his fingers. Then he dropped his free hand to Ryan's waist. 'Now,' he said around the flower, dark and impassioned - Jon laughed - 'we dance.'

Ryan blinked. 'Your accent is really bad,' he told Brendon, 'but okay.' He tightened his hand on Brendon's shoulder. Brendon set off across the room again, fiercely focused on the opposite wall. They reached the couch and Brendon manoeuvred Ryan around it. Jon smirked at him and Brendon lifted his hand from Ryan's waist to flip him off. Ryan looked like he was trying not to laugh, eyes flicking from Brendon to the wall and back again. 'Concentrate,' Brendon muttered under his breath, 'I'm about to -' He flicked his wrist and pulled on Ryan's waist as they reached the wall; Ryan spun awkwardly in a circle and Brendon grabbed him again before he could trip over either of their feet. 'And back!'