Ryden Oneshots

Easter Eggs And Birthday Wishes

Brendon doesn’t need anyone to tell him what day it is. It’s Sunday April 12th 2009. More precisely it’s his 22nd birthday. Even more precisely its 8am on his 22nd birthday and his phone’s ringing and Ryan’s not here.

The empty shell of the crumpled sheets beside him, and the shrill and obnoxious ring in his ears is enough to wake him from his not-so-deep sleep. His hand fumbles for the phone on his bedside table while he keeps his eyes screwed tightly shut. If its his mom calling to say happy birthday he’s going to verbally abuse her until she apologises for calling him at such and antisocial time in the morning.

“Hello, this is Brendon Urie’s escort service. How may I help you?”

He thinks the quip is funny. Although the delivery probably could have been better if his throat wasn’t laced with sleep or if he’d even tried to use the husky, seductive voice that usually had Ryan on his knees in 30 seconds. Only the person on the other end of the line hasn’t said anything and OhmyGod it’s his mother, isn’t it?

“You are such a slut,” comes the eventual response, familiar and perfect enough to warm Brendon’s veins beneath his baby soft skin.

“But I’m all yours, baby,” he counters back, a lazy smile etched across the smooth curve of his blossoming lips, the tips of his charcoal lashes caressing the paper planes of his milky face.

Ryan thrums happily in agreement, “Yes you are. Now get up. I have a surprise for you”.

Brendon opens his eyes hesitantly, hoping that maybe Ryan is somewhere in the room and the “surprise” is going to come in the shape of a thousand sexual favours that will stay burned into his memory for the next 22 years, but Ryan’s not there. His pyjama pants are tossed over the bottom of the bed, and his guitar has been brought back in from the living room after their private acoustic session from last night but Ryan’s still not there.

“Why are you not naked and in bed with me?”

“Because the hardcore sex comes after the romantic, mushy stuff, Bren. Everyone knows that.”

“Really? Sheesh, I have been left in the dark”.

“Yes, complete social ignorance, now please get out of bed, or this surprise isn’t going to work”.

Brendon sighs exaggeratedly down the line as he pulls lethargic limbs out from underneath the gentle weight of the covers, instantly feeling the cool draft on his bare body. He pulls Ryan’s plaid pyjama pants on to protect his innocence (yeah right, who’s he kidding) but mainly because Ryan’s rule is that Brendon is only allowed to walk around naked just before sex or just after. The reason for this –Brendon likes to think- is that just the sight of his naked form will have Ryan in a passionate frenzy, but maybe he should stop boosting his own ego so much. But it’s so true.

“Okay,” he murmurs into the phone, playing with the drawstrings, “I’m up”.

He can hear the faint rush of air as Ryan’s mouth curls up into a smile and he feels a pang of regret for not being able to witness it, “Good. Now, see the cup on your bedside table?”

“What cup- oh yeah, found it”.

“Okay, pick it up- it’s a clue. Oh, and Brendon? Follow the trail”.

“Wait, Ry. I don’t-”

Ryan hangs up before Brendon manages to spurt the rest of his sentence out. The line goes dead within a second; empty in the absence of Ryan’s smooth voice. Brendon drops the phone onto the bed while simultaneously stretching over to pick up said cup with the bended fingers of his right hand. The cup is plastic –no one ever trusts Brendon with real crockery- but hand painted with bright beautiful colours, like the rainbow. As he turns the cup between his hands he finds the word “Eggs” scrawled across the surface in Ryan’s elegant handwriting.

He frowns. Is that the clue? Eggs?

He looks back towards the table and finds a small miniature chocolate egg balancing precariously at the edge, a little further off another egg sits on the windowsill, then another on the chair, a trail leading all the way out of the room. He follows the eggs on their confectionary path, dropping every one he comes across into the cup Ryan made for him. It leads him into the kitchen where a substantial pile of birthday cards are piled up on the table, a smorgasbord of colour, almost stealing his brick red toaster’s thunder. From the top of two hot Starbucks cups he collects two more eggs and one from the top of the fridge before he’s lead into the brightly lit hall.

There’s a banner pinned up between two walls, bold letters proclaiming, “HAPPY 22nd BIRTHDAY, BRENDON” like he needed a reminder. Only the “Brendon” bit is smaller then the rest of the writing where Ryan’s run out of room and has had to squeeze it on. The thought is just a little bit endearing to Brendon.

The rest of the begs line a straight up the hall before stopping abruptly outside the hall closet that until now they have both failed to find a function for (“Maybe we could keep our ironing board in there” “That’d be nice, Bren- if we had an ironing board”).

His footsteps quicken as he realises where he’s headed, each egg plopping into the cup with even plops until the cup is filled to the brim. The finger’s of his free hand skim over the metal knob in front of him before he twists it nervously and finds Ryan smirking at him from the middle shelf with what he thinks is that caricature of an Easter egg cradled between his beautiful hands. Only the eggs is really, really huge.

Ryan smiles wider, pushing the egg towards Brendon so that he can read the “Happy Birthday, Bren. I love you” written across the chocolate brown exterior. The older man chuckles before placing a kiss to Brendon’s open mouth, “Happy Birthday, Mr. Urie”.

“This is both the best and weirdest birthday present I’ve ever had”.

“That was the idea”.

“I love it, thank you”.

Again, Ryan’s answering beam is just not fair as it lights up the entire closet they’re squeezed into, two large amber eyes like liquid romance projecting more words then either can or will ever be able to say. It’s the times Ryan looks at him like this that Brendon truly believes he’s worth something in the world.

“There’s more,” Ryan says happily, one hand drifting shamelessly over the curve of Brendon’s hip, “I made dinner reservations for tonight then you have a party tomorrow with everyone from the label- Pete wanted me to keep it a secret but with him, Gabe and William in the same place at the same time you kind of need to mentally prepare yourself for an egotistical overload- and then next week we’re going to New York to this really fancy hotel where we can have some of that hardcore sex you talked about earlier and then we can come back here and have some more hardcore sex. How amazing is that?”

Brendon pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he sets his presents safely outside and looks at Ryan speculatively, pulling him forward so that he can play with the buttons on the guitarist shirt, “That all sounds great, but there is one problem”.

Ryan frowns, “What?”

He really can’t help the seductive gaze that spills from his eyes as he undoes the top button, “I don’t think we’re going to make it to dinner, what with all the hardcore sex we’re about to have”.