Autumn/Winter

Part Four

During class Brendon chews on the end of his pen, and Jon raises an eyebrow at him. They’re at a shared desk, working on their assignments, and Jon says, “Man, you’re a second away from ink poisoning.”

Brendon looks at the bitten and chewed end of his pen, making a face.

“Something on your mind?” Jon suggests, and Brendon thinks, his pen to his lip.

“Just. This weekend, I’m going to Ryan’s place. To meet, well, Spencer’s parents but it’s kind of like Ryan’s family, you know?” Brendon says, a concentrated look on his face.

“That’s pretty big,” Jon agrees, “you guys are getting kind of serious.”

Brendon just shrugs, ducks his head. “Well, it’s been nearly seven weeks since we met.”

“Yeah, but that’s not that long,” Jon reminds him, “I haven’t met Cassie’s parents.”

“I know, but just. It’s different,” Brendon says quietly, laying his head on the desk and looking up at Jon.

Jon nods, thoughtful, and adds, “have you guys...?” Brendon looks at him, puzzled. “You know, done anything below the belt?”

Brendon bites his lip, shakes his head. “Not...that far. The most we do is make-out in my room when no-one’s around.”

Jon doesn’t seem repulsed at all, and leans down further on the desk, other people around them talking about the assignment. “Man, just go with what you’re comfortable with, okay? Don’t go rushing into anything.”

Brendon raises an eyebrow, and Jon just smiles, petting the top of his head. “Since when did you become the wise one?” Brendon asks.

“Since always,” Jon informs him simply.

***
Brendon and Ryan are going grocery shopping. It’s so freakishly normal is abnormal. Why are they even here again?

Oh, right. Because Ryan volunteered to get the groceries for the Smiths this week and Brendon, being the gracious boyfrien- oh who’s he kidding, he just wanted to spend time with Ryan. He grabs a trolley, having to jog back to Ryan who’s already inside the store, with the squeaky trolley wheels making Brendon grit his teeth.

Ryan has a list in his hand, and he’s wearing a beige jacket and cream coloured scarf that Brendon’s never seen before, but he makes sure to lean against the clothing every now and then, making comments about how home brand is cheaper and just as good, or how something is crap or awesome. Its grocery shopping; not rocket science.

“What bread do you need to get?” Brendon asks Ryan, bouncing on the balls of his feet in front of all the different loaves.

“Um, I don’t know. It just says bread?”

“Yeah, but what do you guys usually have around?”

“Um...?”

“White, wholemeal, multigrain, raisin bread?” Brendon lists, and Ryan frowns. Brendon sighs, and just grabs white. “I thought you’d be the type that really sticks to details,” Brendon tells him, disapprovingly.

Ryan looks at him, looking a tiny bit incredulous, “it’s...bread.”

Brendon just sighs, shaking his head and wheeling the trolley to the next aisle, Ryan trailing after him, clutching the list and looking confused. They argue over what brand of flour to buy, Ryan tries to reason with Brendon why buying the younger Smith kids sugar-packed cereal isn’t a good idea, and when they finally pass the condom section, Ryan lifts his eyebrows suggestively, smirking, and Brendon actually blushes and just keeps pulling the trolley.

“Hey,” Ryan says, near his shoulder and slipping an arm around Brendon’s waist. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” Brendon interrupts, and smiles faintly. Ryan looks older, much more grown up; his hair is parted to the right, out of his face, and he’s taller than Brendon, but not by too much. Ryan kisses the top of his head, slowly, and murmurs something against it. A woman looks at them strangely, but when they look over she averts her gaze.

“What else is left?” Brendon sighs, going to grab the list but Ryan holds it out of his reach.

“Calm down Bren,” Ryan smiles, “we’ll get through it eventually.”

They do; it takes them half an hour but they get everything on the list and they’re out of the cash register quickly. With their items in bags, they pass an animal shelter bin, with a sign asking for people to donate anything helpful things for animals they can. Ryan takes three out of the six cans of dog food they bought for Hobo, and puts it in the cart.

Brendon smiles at him, slightly awed and Ryan shrugs, what? written across his face. Brendon clenches a fist in Ryan’s scarf, pulls him close, and kisses him in the front of a public supermarket. When they pull back, Ryan has a pleased smile, and even volunteers to steer the trolley the rest of the way to the car.

***

Timothy’s seventh birthday is coming up, and Brendon’s mother seems to take this as a starting point for their Conversations That Don’t Involve Arguing. She tells him how she wants to throw a party with Timothy’s friends, with the usual junk food, cake, games like pin the tail on the donkey and such.

“I just need you, and maybe some others to help out a bit,” she says, her painted nails combing through her hair, “I don’t want to have to ask the other parents.”

“I have some friends that’ll help out,” Brendon says quickly, and she just nods, adding something to the list she’s creating, and Brendon’s actually surprised she’s putting the dedication and effort into something like this. She’s known to back out, but Brendon knows she wouldn’t even try to do that for this.

“We’ll need to make invitations and get everything ready...” she starts, and while Brendon tunes it out, he’s still happy to be helping.

***

They’re lying in Brendon’s bed, under the covers because it’s cold on winter nights, and one of Brendon’s CDs is playing on the stereo. Ryan’s arm is under Brendon’s neck, and the other hooked around Brendon’s waist, and Brendon’s laying on one of his own hands, and the other is running small streaks over Ryan’s bare hip, revealed by his low riding pants and hitched up shirt.

Brendon’s mother turns a blind eye to Ryan and Brendon being alone in his bedroom together, perhaps in a way that she trusts her son, or in a way that she just honestly doesn’t want to know. They’re not doing much right now, just touching and light brushing of lips, mostly just lying together.

Brendon’s told Ryan about the birthday party, adding, “And you, me, Spencer and Jon could help out.” It seems like a good idea, and maybe they could joke about it later while Brendon goes back to being on good terms with his mother.

Ryan nods, saying, “You can ask Spence this weekend. You know. When you come over for dinner.” He says it with a smug smile, because he likes to see the way Brendon gets nervous, how he bites down on his bottom lip and his eyes grow anxious, like this matters to him, and Ryan’s glad it does. He says, “If it’s any consolation, Haley’s coming over and meeting them for the first time, too. I think it’s kind of more nerve racking for her.”

Brendon smiles slightly, ducking his head under Ryan’s chin and letting his breath slip into the hollow of Ryan’s throat. “I’m not that worried. Just, wondering if I’ll make a fool of myself.”

“Well, at least you’ll be introduced as my boyfriend at the table, and not after we’ve been caught, well, making out,” Ryan says with a sly smile, and Brendon laughs into his skin.

“Sorry about that, again.”

“It’s fine,” Ryan says, readjusting his arm around Brendon’s waist, and Brendon looks up, his lips brushing against Ryan’s jaw.

Brendon shifts, pulling Ryan on top of him and kissing him, letting Ryan bite gently on his bottom lip, and tug it slightly. The last few days they’ve spent the afternoons at the park, dealing with brief kissing and handholding because Brendon had to keep an eye on Timothy and really didn’t want another incident happening. Also Hobo demands a fair amount of attention.

Brendon tugs off Ryan’s shirt, having the desire to run his hands along all the grooves and muscles of Ryan’s back, pressing his fingers along Ryan’s shoulder blades, feeling the muscle shift around bone. Ryan’s knees are on either side of Brendon’s thighs, as he holds himself over Brendon and kisses him harder than before. Soon he’s edged Brendon’s shirt up to his shoulders, and they have to break apart to let Brendon pull it off.

Brendon tries not to gasp when Ryan moves to run his teeth along his collarbone, his lips and tongue melting around it and Brendon feels a stirring in his stomach moving lower. Ryan kisses down Brendon’s sternum, hands planted firmly on the mattress on either side of Brendon’s head, and licks back up, all the way up his throat until their lips meet again. Ryan lowers himself, until their bodies are pressed together and his hands have moved to cup Brendon’s face, still kissing, deeper and a little more desperate.

Brendon can feel himself getting hard near Ryan’s stomach, and tries to move his hips away, embarrassed. Ryan tightens his knees against Brendon’s, stilling him, and giving him a questioning look as he pulls their faces apart.

“Just,” Brendon says, breathless, glancing down, and Ryan realises what he means and smiles, bending down so their lips nearly touch.

“That’s kind of what I was aiming for, Brendon,” Ryan whispers, kissing him again, and grinds him hips against Brendon’s, a spark shooting through Brendon’s groin and spreading through his torso. It’s moments like this Brendon’s reminded that Ryan’s older, and wonders how many times Ryan’s done things like this before.

Brendon feels that Ryan’s hard, too, and desire rips through his chest as his hands sink into the back of Ryan’s thighs, pressing him closer until they’re rubbing together, just right there, and Brendon’s breathing is coming out in hiccoughs around Ryan’s mouth on his own.

There are hands smoothing up his sides, along his neck, face, then back down, always stopping at his hips before moving up again. The blanket is still covering them, barely, at least keeping their feet warm from the cold air, but their skin is becoming heated anyway, so.

Brendon pulls back, just to try and breathe, because oxygen seems to be scarce right now, tipping his head back as Ryan laps at his neck and rocks his hips against Brendon’s. Brendon leaves his eyes to flutter closed, listening to the scratching noise their jeans are making and the sound of Ryan’s mouth against his skin.

Hands touch the sensitive skin of Brendon’s lower stomach, under the navel and reaching the waistband of his jeans, pulling at the zip, and Ryan’s asking, “Can I?”

Brendon really, really wants him to, but wonders if he should, if maybe it’s too fast, too embarrassing, if it’ll be awkward. But, he trusts Ryan.

“Yeah,” Brendon breathes out, pulling his hand through Ryan’s hair and bringing his face closer, kissing him carefully as his chest tightens, on instinct, as Ryan’s hand slips past the open zipper. His breathing gets harder as Ryan palms him through his briefs, his hips moving forward into the touch, and Ryan’s smiling against his lips.

Soon, Ryan’s moved inside his briefs, stroking and Brendon actually moans, low in his throat and uncontained, and Ryan swears under his breath, kissing Brendon hard enough that his lips feel bruised. Ryan’s hand moves fast, causing Brendon to make strangled noises and squeeze his eyes shut tight.

He comes not long after, breathing heavy and Ryan’s hand carrying him through it. It’s on his jeans, Ryan’s hand, and his briefs. He kisses Ryan loosely, mumbles of, “thank you, do you...I don’t know how to...”

Ryan kisses the corner of his mouth, taking one of Brendon’s hands and guiding it into his pants, where he’s straining against his underwear. Brendon hesitates, pressing his hand close and Ryan bites his lip, lets his head fall into the crook of Brendon’s neck, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

Brendon likes the noises Ryan’s making; small breathy noises right near his ear, and the way Brendon can change the pace of Ryan’s breathing with the pace of his hand. It gets to a point where Ryan’s bucking, and Brendon has to stop and think holy shit he’s fucking my hand and gets turned on all over again.

***

Afterwards, when they’re sitting on the edge of Brendon’s bed, fully clothed again, they’re listening to Brendon’s CD loop around back to the first song in awkward silence. Brendon’s cautious, because that just happened, and yeah, he’s never done anything like that before. Too soon, did he do something wrong, was it okay...?

Ryan takes Brendon’s hand in his own, squeezes it, and Brendon looks up from the floor to see Ryan kiss his knuckle, and smile at him. His anxiety melts away, and falls forward to wrap his arms around Ryan, to hold on to something while Ryan kisses his hair.

“I have to change the sheets,” Brendon mumbles, muffled, into Ryan’s neck because there’s more bodily fluids than he’d like on them. Ryan laughs, helping Brendon stand and saying, “I’ll help.”

***

Jon and Cassie are over that Friday night, lying on their stomach on the bed and watching Brendon go through outfits. He wants their opinion on what to wear when meeting your gay boyfriend’s not-parents-but-people-who-basically-rai