Ryden Oneshots

Don't You Know I Love You (When You're Down And Dirty)

Brendon smells like beer and cigarettes and something sweet, cinnamon sugar. Ryan wants to lean in closer, inhale. His stomach tenses.

“I gotta close up,” Ryan says.

“Just one more game,” Brendon says. His eyes are soft, his words slightly slurred. “Spencer says you’re quite the player.”

Ryan’s dad taught him how to play poker before he taught him to ride a bike, but that doesn’t mean Ryan has much love for the game.

“I gotta—”

“C’mon, Ryan,” Spencer wheedles. “There’s nobody here. One hand. We’ll help you close up after.”

“I’ll help you close up,” Brendon says, eyes bright, and Ryan’s grip tightens on the glasses he’s holding.

He dumps them into a nearby bus tray with a clatter.

It’s just a game , Ryan thinks, and sits down at the table.

*

Spencer deals. Ryan’s about to discard two when he feels Brendon’s palm, warm on his thigh.

What the fuck , Ryan thinks, but doesn’t know how to shrug Brendon off without drawing Jon and Spencer’s attention to what’s going on.

When it’s Brendon’s turn to discard he lifts his hand from Ryan’s thigh. Ryan breathes a sigh of relief, but the second Brendon’s got his new cards he lets his hand drop to Ryan’s thigh again. This time it’s higher, and Ryan can feel him spread his fingers, pointer running lightly over the fly of Ryan’s jeans. Ryan swallows a groan, eyelids fluttering shut.

When he opens his eyes Spencer’s shooting him a questioning look across the table. Jon leans forward on his elbows and says, “Hey, no coded looks at the poker table, psychic twins.”

“I’m not—” Ryan protests, and Brendon chooses that moment to let his hand climb still higher, thumb sliding along Ryan’s belt and coming to rest over the cool metal of the buckle.

“I fold,” Spencer says, narrowing his eyes at Ryan.

“Fold,” Jon says.

“Check,” Brendon murmurs.

His thumbnail catches on the skin just below Ryan’s belly button. Ryan exhales.

“Ryan?” Spencer crooks an eyebrow.

“Check,” Ryan says. His voice sounds strange. He swallows.

“Call,” Spencer says, and Brendon lays down a straight flush.

Ryan can feel heat prickling his skin. He lays down two pair.

“Nice, Brendon,” Spencer says.

“Beginner’s luck,” Brendon demurs.

“I want a re-match,” Ryan blurts out, then wants to slap himself.

“I could be convinced,” Brendon says.

His palm is lying flat against Ryan’s groin now. Ryan can feel the heat of his hand.

“I gotta head out,” Jon says, eyes darting between Ryan and Brendon. “Like I said, I have a wife.”

“Hey, you know, me too,” Spencer says. “I’ll catch you later. Nice to meet you, Brendon.”

Brendon raises his hand from Ryan’s lap and gives him a wide smile. “You too, man. I’ll see you around.”

“Sure thing,” Spencer says, and practically drags Jon out the door.

Brendon chuckles. “Those two are subtle.”