Ryden Oneshots

Came Back With Flags On Coffins And Said "We Won"

Ryan has a problem. Well, Ryan has a lot of problems, like the fact that Jon has the television up way too loud and Spencer isn’t around to bitch him out for it. And the fact that the hem of his favorite paisley button down is fraying and he can’t seem to quit worrying at it with his fingers. At the moment, though, number one on his list of problems is Brendon Urie.

"Jon, turn the fucking TV down, I need to talk to you about something."

Jon does not, in fact, turn the fucking TV down, but instead tilts his head to the left and blinks a few times, as if batting at Ryan in morse code that he’s listening.

That’s actually probably all he’s gonna get.

"Have you noticed anything off about Brendon lately?"

At that, Jon actually mutes the TV and turns to face Ryan. He looks sort of worried which pisses Ryan off to no end. For all Jon knows, Ryan has the black plague or something. Obviously he doesn’t because Ryan is the perfect picture of health but the fact remains that Jon has a big gross soft spot in his big gross heart for Brendon and, apparently, not Ryan. Fucking disgusting.

"Is he okay?" Jon sounds like he cares. Ryan can feel the bile rising in his throat.

"God, dude, yeah he’s fine. Well, sort of."

Ryan doesn’t really have time to finish his tale of woe, because Brendon comes out from the bunks, sleep rumpled and sort of grumpy looking. Which is not cute at all.

"Ryan Ross!" Brendon seems to shed his sleepiness like an extra skin and he leaps onto the couch next to Ryan. He throws a leg over Ryan’s lap and smushes his face into Ryan’s neck, crooning softly, "Good morning, Starshine, the Earth says hello! You twinkle above us, you twinkle belooowww."

He drags the last note out so long, Ryan’s sure he’s gonna get some sort of wet rug burn on his neck. With spit. Spit burn. Gross. This is why he wears scarves all the time.

Brendon’s talking again. "I’m gonna make some tea. Do you want any?"

Ryan’s not big on tea. It’s like. Pretentious. He says in the politest tone he can manage, "Yeah, no thanks."

"Are you sure?" Brendon’s voice is chirpy and excited and his fingers dig into Ryan’s sides, using his body as some sort of fulcrum to stand himself up. Ryan gasps and Brendon rubs quick circles in the spots he pinches before practically hopping his way to the bus kitchen.

"I’m gonna make you some anyway. You’re looking peaky."

Peaky what the hell.

Brendon’s humming and making way too much racket for a grown man boiling water. "How much sugar do you want?"

"Um, none. I don’t want tea."

"You could use some sweetening, Ryan Ross. Sugar sugar! You are my candy girl."

"Brendon fucking Christ I don’t want-"

Brendon cuts him off by launching into the chorus of Candyman and practically swinging his hips into the table.

Ryan turns back to Jon. "Jon!"

He doesn’t even look up from the muted TV. "You better drink that tea. He doesn’t need anymore fucking sugar."

"Jon."

"What?" He sounds bored.

"Are you? Are you not seeing this?"

Then again, "What?"

Fucking Jon. Spencer will know what to do.

**