Ryden Oneshots

The Magical Quest of Finding the Most Glorious Christmas Tree

“So,” Ryan says, “remind me again why we’re here?”

Brendon concentrates on parking the car instead of answering Ryan’s question because for one, he’s not really interested in answering Ryan’s attempt to pass off sheer boredom for forgetfulness, and two, he’s driving Ryan’s car which has never, ever happened before and Brendon really, really doesn’t want to fuck this up.

Pulling into a secluded spot that he’s sure won’t result in tragedy in the form of slight scratches (even if the parking lot is deserted at the moment), Brendon cuts the engine and turns to Ryan, “Because we need a Christmas tree, Ryan.”

Brendon takes off his seatbelt and Ryan groans, “But I told you, Brendon, the pre-lit ones at the store are so much easier and I really don’t want fucking pine needles all over my floor.”

“Well then it’s a good thing it’s not going in your house, isn’t it?” Brendon replies with a smirk which earns him a very displeased glare from Ryan. “C’mon, it’ll be fun,” he tries, twisting in the driver’s seat just a little and the squeak of the fancy leather beneath him reminds him that, “I didn’t wreck your car. The least you could do is humor me with this, okay?”

Ryan stares blankly at him. Blinks.

“If -- and only if -- we manage to find a tree,” Ryan says and pretends to ignore Brendon’s excited giggle of winning over the impenetrable Ryan Ross, “it’s not coming back to the house on the roof of this car.”

“Okay, okay,” Brendon says, trying to fight off his smile so that Ryan doesn’t notice and suddenly change his mind. “I’ll call Jon to come get it.”

Ryan mumbles something like “yeah, yeah, yeah” while he unlocks his seatbelt and swings it over his head begrudgingly before grappling to open the passenger door. Brendon hops out of the other side quickly and runs over to greet Ryan just as he’s closing his door. Mildly startled, Ryan holds out his hand and demands, “Keys.”

Obediently, Brendon drops Ryan’s keys into his waiting hand and grins childishly. “Aren’t you proud of me for not killing us on the way here?” he asks.

With a roll of his eyes Ryan says, “Yes, Brendon. But don’t think that that stupid grin is going to sway me into letting you drive on the way back.” Brendon’s smile drops a fraction of an inch. “It’ll probably be dark by the time we’re done -- because I know you plan on scouring every inch of this farm for the quote-unquote perfect tree -- and you and I both know you’re blind as a bat at night.”

“I am not!” Brendon cries, defending his decent eyesight rather than arguing with Ryan for driving rights. 

“Brendon, there’s a nightlight in your bedroom for a reason and it’s not just because you’re scared of the dark,” Ryan counters, picking idly at his fingernails.

Brendon huffs playfully and punches Ryan in the shoulder, eliciting a light laugh from the abused boy that flutters through the air and echoes in the empty parking lot. “Let’s go,” Brendon says, tugging lightly on the sleeve of Ryan’s coat, “I want to get a good tree before they’re all picked through.”

Ryan decides to not point out the fact that there’s no one there and just follows Brendon as he traipses across the asphalt beneath them and towards the small little tent just a little beyond a sign that advertises Premium Christmas Trees outlined in bright bulb string lights. Upon reaching the tent, they stop at what appears to be a miniature building fondly labeled the Pay Shack where he can only assume one would pay and/or purchase materials needed to care for a Christmas tree correctly.

Inside, a woman with a bright smile pops up from her chair and places down her book before greeting them with a bright smile. “Hello there boys!” she says and her voice is warm and kind. “Come to find a tree, I see?”