✓ ❘ 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ─ 𝐌𝐂𝐑. 𝐏!𝐀𝐓𝐃. 𝐅𝐎𝐁. 𝐓Ø𝐏.

A Date, Tomorrow Night. (Brendon Urie x Reader)

Of course, fear over the fact that his feelings weren't reciprocated was the sole reason why he hadn't told you how he really felt about you, and he resigned himself to simply admiring from afar. Or, in this case, drooling.

"Can I get you a napkin?" Patrick chuckled, arching his brows as he made reference to the way Brendon was unforgivingly staring at you.

The question was enough to break the singer out of his trance, and he shook his head lightly before turning back to Patrick.

"Shut up," he grumbled, lowering his gaze to his drink and swirling the glass around to further mix the alcohol with the ice cubes.

You did your rounds throughout the venue, greeting everyone you knew, before finally sauntering over to the two singers, greeting them both with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"I must say," you skewed your face as you looked around the venue, impressed, "you did a pretty good job – even without my help."

"See?" Patrick laughed, pointing an accusatory finger at you, "We're not totally incompetent. We can pull off organising a party. Hell, we're the masters of organizing parties. Like, the best. The best of the best."

"The label did all of the planning, then?" You raised an eyebrow and grinned patronizingly.

"Right down to the outfits we're wearing," Patrick admitted, sipping on his gin and tonic.

You laughed and shook your head before turning to Brendon. He was uncharacteristically quiet, and you cocked your head to the side as you placed a hand on his arm and rubbed it.

"You okay?" you checked.

"Yeah," he cleared his throat, nodding vigorously, "You look really nice." He gestured at your outfit.

"Thanks," you gave a small smile, which he returned. Patrick watched attentively in the background.

The three of you made conversation for the next little while, with one of you disappearing occasionally to get drinks. Pete came over eventually, along with Gabe Saporta.

You inhaled softly at presence of the younger man. It's not that you didn't like him – he was a pretty nice guy – it was simply that whenever the two of you would come into contact, he would flirt with you. Relentlessly.

It got quite exhausting after a while, especially since you weren't interested in him romantically. You thought that you had made that abundantly clear, but either he was too stupid to understand, or he just didn't care.

Either way, you took a moment to mentally prepare yourself for the flood of compliments and pick-up lines that were about to come your way.

"(Y/N), how the hell do you manage to get more beautiful every time I see you?" Gabe looked at you in amazement.

You forced a smile. "Nice to see you, too, Gabe."

He shot you a wink and gathered your hand in his before placing a tentative kiss on your knuckles, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time.

You shifted uncomfortably, and you felt Brendon tense up behind you. You were certain that if you turned around, you'd find a frown on his face.

He'd never had a problem with Gabe before, but now the urge to punch him square in the jaw was overwhelming. Fortunately for Gabe, he let go of your hand before Brendon could act on his impulse.

Conversation resumed between the five of you and all was well for the next twenty minutes, until Gabe once again decided to turn his attention to you. As soon as he did, so did Brendon. And, not wanting to be left out, so did Pete and Patrick.

"I know that this is a bit forward, but would you like to go out tomorrow night?" he blurted, putting you on the spot.

You stammered a bit while answering and chuckled uncomfortably. "Like... on a date?"

"Well... yeah."

When a 'no' didn't immediately come out of your mouth, Brendon moved to leave.

"Excuse me," he muttered under his breath, barely audible, as he slipped out of the group and headed towards the bar on the opposite end of the room.

He didn't want to hear your answer. He didn't want to hear you say yes.

Going against his better judgement, the singer ordered two shots of tequila and downed them in one go. His throat cried out in agony, but he was too annoyed to pay any attention to the burning of his oesophagus.

Only a minute later, you sat yourself on the barstool next to him. "Any particular reason why you ran away?"

He shrugged and offered an answer without even bothering to look at you. "I needed a refill."

You raised a sceptic eyebrow and picked up the glass he'd been holding in his hand over at the cocktail table; it was three-quarters full. "Reaaaly?"

Finally looking at you, he sighed and took the drink, gulping down a huge portion of the liquid.

"Bren, you're not acting like yourself," you tried again, shifting closer to him, "What's going on?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. "I couldn't deal with the way Saporta was all over you."

"You and me both," you wheezed, laughing a bit.

Brendon turned to look at you with an earnest expression, and it was only then that you realised what he had meant by his statement. Your expression turned serious as well.

"Oh," you spoke softly.

"Yeah," he thinned his lips, bobbing his head as he reached for his glass again, "Oh."

"Why didn't you tell me? We're adults. We can talk about this kinda thing without it being weird."

"It's weird now," he pointed out.

"Yeah, because you made it weird," you huffed with a small smile. He pouted, making you snigger. "You really are a child, you know that?"

"So did you say yes?" he asked, ignoring your previous comment.

"No," you shook your head, "I told him I already have a date tomorrow night."

"You do?" He felt his stomach drop.

You smiled tauntingly. "As soon as Mr Brendon Urie gets his head out of his ass and actually asks me out, then yes. Yes, I do."

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Thank you for reading x