Ryden Oneshots

To A Man's Heart

.:. Rating : NC-17 .:.
(3rd NC-17 in a row?! im generous!)

Summary: Desperate to escape an arranged marriage, Charleston belle Ryan Ross heads to Denver and takes his chances as a mail-order bride. When he arrives, he discovers that handsome rancher Brendon Urie has absolutely no desire to marry--until Ryan charms him with his sweet nature and even sweeter kisses.

Ryan Ross was crouched over his best friend's bed, watching the infuriatingly slow rise and fall of his chest and hissing in his ear. "Wake up," he repeated, punctuating it with another sharp poke to the shoulder.

Spencer Smith stilled, finally, mumbling, "What?" as he attempted to bat Ryan's hand away.

"Get up, we've got to go." Now, he thought.

Spencer took a moment to rub his eyes and Ryan sighed, already exasperated.

"Go where?" Spencer asked.

"To Denver," Ryan told him.

"Why?" Spencer asked, dropping his hands and squinting at Ryan.

"So I can get married," Ryan answered, the words coming out quick, rushed. They really didn't have much time.

"Ryan," Spencer said in a stern voice, and Ryan wanted to scream, because now was not the time; this was important. "You don't have to go to Denver. You're getting married right here in Charleston tomorrow. Or later today. Lord, what time is it?"

Ryan shook his head, biting his lip. "No," he said softly, "I'm not. I can't, Spence, I can't. It just feels wrong. I can't marry Peter Wentz, even if my father wants me to."

Spencer was looking at him seriously now. "You mean you can't marry Pete because your father wants you to."

Ryan couldn't reply. He took a breath. "Just get up, please?" he asked, desperate.

"So we can to go to Denver."

Ryan nodded.

"So you can get married, but not to Pete."

Ryan nodded again, wondering why Spencer had to be so stubborn. "I'll explain later, I promise you. But right now we've got to hurry or we'll miss the train."

"We."

Ryan froze. "Of course, we. I can't go to Denver alone!"

"Of course not," Spencer sighed, sitting up. "Let me get dressed and pack."

"You don't need to pack anything," Ryan insisted. "We can just wear what we've got on until we have a chance to get new clothes."

Spencer shook his head. "If I'm coming, I'm bringing my own clothes."

He was coming. He was awake and he was coming. Ryan felt a tiny bubble of relief and sighed, letting Spencer up to begin packing. At least he was coming; Ryan knew his friend well enough not to argue.

***

Three hours later, they were on the train, the city already behind them. The sun was slowly coming up, casting everything in pale light, and Ryan felt like he could breathe for the first time in weeks. He showed Spencer the ad torn out of a cheap magazine. BRIDES WANTED, it read.

"I sent them a letter," Ryan told Spencer, "but I was beginning to give up hope. I didn't think I was what they were looking for, and I was running out of time. Except yesterday, I received a telegraph. There's a rancher in Denver. His name is Brendon Urie."

Spencer looked skeptical. "I'm sorry, Ryan, but how is marrying a total stranger better than marrying Pete?"

Ryan looked at his lap. "Because," he started, trying to find the right way to get it out. "Because I'm doing it. For myself. My own decision, my own terms." He looked up, eyes pleading with Spencer to understand. Spencer stared back, but after a moment, he nodded.