Ryden Oneshots

But Where Do The Nuns Come In?

.:. Rating : Adult .:.

The thing about Brendon's family—now—is that they do their best. 

In Brendon's opinion, anyway. Ryan knows that Spencer and Jon are keeping their mouths shut just like he is, but after all, it is Brendon's family; he should get to decide. The fact that Brendon rarely-to-never goes to a family dinner without Ryan—and, if possible, Jon and Spencer too—says volumes that never get talked about. 

Tonight Haley's keeping Spencer to herself and Jon actually flew to Chicago for their week off, so it's just the two of them, making polite small talk and passing the butter. 

Brendon's oldest brother is in town for once; he lives someplace up near Canada, Seattle maybe, or Portland—Ryan remembers shaking his hand backstage in the rain. He and Brendon have had different enough schedules that Ryan doesn't think they've sat at this table together since the first tour. 

Ryan kind of wishes that they had. Jim's Brendon's favorite brother, always has been, the one he wanted to be when he grew up. Brendon's jokes come easier with Jim there, his smiles are broader.

Not to mention that watching Brendon with his nieces is seriously one of the funniest (most adorable) things ever. Not that Brendon with his nephews isn't cute, okay, what with the dinosaurs and all, but there is absolutely nothing like a comparison of evening gown trims (Sarah likes feathers, Brendon insists on shiny beads) with Mark or Becca's boys. 

“--and then shrieked,” Brendon says, grinning. “Man, I've never seen anybody so freaked out by one tiny little worm.” 

“You always were a brat, Brendon,” Becca says affectionately. 

“Yeah, well, you always picked the prissiest people to be friends with.” Brendon shoots back. “Lisa, g—good grief.” 

“Oh, yeah, like you can talk.” Jim waggles his eyebrows at Ryan—shit, it is a freakish family thing.

Brendon turns to look at Ryan, too, and tilts his head contemplatively. He only keeps the thoughtful expression on his face for about two seconds before he bursts out laughing. “Yeah, okay, okay. You win. Ross once freaked out over a potato bug--” hey, they swore they'd never speak of that again--”and worms might make him pass out. Sh—shoot, that would be awesome, I totally want to take you fishing, Ryan Ross.” He leans over and bats his eyelashes at Ryan in that way he always thinks is winning. 

Ryan rolls his eyes a little and looks down at his plate. Normally, you know, he'd smack Brendon around a little for talking about the potato bug incident, but it always feels weird hitting Brendon in front of his mother. Like she's going to call Ryan's mom and have a little talk with her about violence not being the answer. 

“You could, you know,” Mr. Urie says, unexpectedly. 

“Could what, Dad?” Mark asks absently, wiping his toddler's nose with a napkin. Ryan cringes slightly. 

"We could take Ryan fishing. I know Brittney's taking the kids back for Rosie's dress rehearsal, but Jim was going to stay on a few days anyway—we could take a guys' weekend in the woods." 

There's a brief, uncertain silence. Ryan thinks worms and fish guts and camping, oh god, but then he looks at Brendon's stupid face all hopeful and—

"That would be great, Mr. Urie," he says, weakly, and Brendon beams at him. 

"Ryan Ross," he says, solemnly. "You are totally my absolute favorite." He pauses. "But don't think that means I'm handling your worm for you. I want to watch." Brendon waggles his eyebrows.