Ryan slams the old wooden door and throws his leather shoulder bag behind the counter with a distressed growl. Jon appears from the bag with an easy smile, amusement clear on his face. He’s worked with Ryan long enough now to realise that no matter how pissy his mood is, he’s the most nonviolent twig Jon has ever met, and the trees are particularly calm this rotation.
‘Careful with the door Ross, it’s an antique, older than you.’ Jon jokes and bends down by the shelf to scan through the assorted glass jars, picking one labelled ‘Burker Root 2/50mg’.
Ryan simply frowns and grumbles as he beings to shovel dead rats into the small, metal bowls now lined up on the counter. It’s only 6.30am so, despite Ryan being late, he still has plenty of time before opening.
Jon takes a longer look at Ryan as he joins him behind the counter and pulls on the latex gloves, snapping each with practised skill. ‘Bad dreams still?’ He questions, hands reaching down to open the jar, eyes still trailed on Ryan.
‘No.’ Ryan sighs and throws the scoop back into the box, replacing the lid and picking up 4 of the newly filled bowls.
Jon raises an eyebrow, urging him to continue.
‘No dreams.’ Ryan says in a surprisingly acidic tone.
‘That’s a bad thing?’ Jon laughs a little disbelievingly. He’d been wishing for that most of his life and sure, it’s a more than a little odd for Ryan not to dream but Jon thinks it’s a blessing in disguise. It didn’t used to be like this but since the solar eruption roughly 600 rotations ago everything has been a bit screwed up.
Dreams especially. Every night for everyone. And Jon’s weren’t particularly good ones.
‘I guess not.’ Ryan frowns. ‘But it’s not supposed to be like that. And without the dreams waking me up, I keep oversleeping.’ He wrenches open the metal door, quickly unclicking the lock, and strides into the backroom, screeches immediately pouring through into the shop front.
‘That could be a problem.’ Jon mutters and picks up 4 of the remaining metal bowls, following Ryan through. He pauses at each cage, opens the small metal hatch and slides the bowl in, snatching his fingers back before the claws can dig in straight through to the bone as Jon has experienced plenty before.
And Jon would question him further, maybe ask him how he managed it, what it feels like to just black out because he doesn’t remember anymore, but then Ryan glances up at the clock and yells over the noise, ‘Almost opening time! You ready the isolation room and I’ll check the appointments!’ before disappearing back into the front.
Jon sighs and moves over to the next cage, sliding open the hatch and pausing a minute to smile at the big, black eyes that emerge from the darkness. Dylan’s his favourite, not that he would ever admit that to Ryan. Although he’s sure that Ryan’s favourite is Hobo by the way he always sneaks on extra rabbit in her bowl when he thinks Jon isn’t looking.
He strokes a soft finger down her snout and she sounds almost like she’s purring. He hears the phone ring out front and Ryan’s monotone, ‘Hello, Winger’s Dragon Training Company, how can I help you?’. Closing the hatch, Jon smiles slightly and finishes up before heading out to do as Ryan said.
- - -
Spencer has also mastered the ability to read Ryan’s forever changing moods after living with him for close to 20 rotations. He’s also fully aware of Ryan’s door slamming habits so he made sure to install one of those devices that stop the door just before it hits the frame and Spencer would like to say it’s magic except it was far too cheap for that.
‘Bad day?’ He asks as Ryan drops onto the couch next to him.
Ryan grunts and kicks his feet up onto the coffee table only to be pushed off again by Spencer’s firm hand.
Spencer looks him over, the usual check for burns, claw marks, fang marks, but he’s clean. ‘What’s got you in a bad mood?’ He asks and Ryan just shrugs. ‘Still the dream thing?’ He ventures and Ryan flinches confirming his suspicions.
Spencer pats his leg and they both watch TV in compatible silence.
- - -
Spencer picks up his usual morning paper as he walks past the stand on his way to the shop. William’s an easy going boss so he knows he still has a few moments before he absolutely has to be at work. He pauses, sits down on a nearby vacant bench and flicks the paper open, scanning through the pages.
- - -
Ryan hears the door crash open and Spencer scream ‘Ryan’ from where he is curled up in bed on his day off. He groans and pulls the pillow over his head.
The silence is only momentarily as soon his door is flung open, flooding light into his room. He feels something impact the pillow and the door close again. He waits a few moments until he knows for sure Spencer has headed off to work again before peeling his head out from under the pillow.
His hand grabs around until it feels something crisp under his fingertips. He sits up and pulls the object into his lap, raising an eyebrow.
It’s a newspaper. The front story is about some new cure for blindness so Ryan is sort of confused because, hello, he isn’t blind. And he’s pretty sure Spencer isn’t either otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to read the headline.
So he flips the paper over and he’s faced with the advertisements page where Spencer has circled a short chunk of text in red.
Brendon Urie: Dreamer Extraordinaire
He pauses.
- - -
Mind magic isn’t against the law but generally people avoid it. It’s dangerous and unpredictable and those who take part are usually outcasts of society. If Spencer suggested this, he must be pretty fucking serious.
- - -
Ring. Ring. Ring.
‘Hello?’
‘Spencer this is fucking stupid.’
‘Just do it Ross.’
Beep.
- - -
Ryan books an appointment for the next day, frowning through the entire phone conversation.
- - -
The place isn’t exactly what Ryan expected so he checks the address thrice before pressing the button with the correct number labelled next to it.
‘Hello?’
‘Uh. Hi. This is um, Ryan? I have an appointment…’
‘Oh yeah! Of course! Come right up!’
He cuts off and Ryan hears a buzz before the door in front of him swings open.
He climbs the stairs and hums softly to himself, taking in the drab interior of the apartment building and thinking that it doesn’t feel as magical as it maybe should. In fact, it feels like the least magical place he’s ever visited.
He finds the correct door, surprised when it’s already open, and enters hesitantly. He pauses in what appears to be the living room, taking in the brown/cream colour scheme contrasted against the brightly coloured furniture and the musical instruments strewn around.
‘Hey!’ A cheerful voice crows and Ryan swirls round to see a small dark haired guy stood in the doorway to what looks like the kitchen. ‘Just take a seat,’ he says gesturing to the bright red sofa, ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’ The guy smiles and disappears back into the kitchen.
Ryan lowers himself onto the surprisingly comfy sofa and fiddles with his hands. He can hear something wheezing in the kitchen, which is slightly worrying, especially added to the fact that he doesn’t know how these things usually work.
A few minutes later the guy returns with a small pot, steam rising from the spout, 2 empty shot glasses and another small beaker filled with a strange purple liquid. He sets the various objects down onto the glass coffee table and settles into the purple armchair opposite Ryan.
‘So,’ he says and Ryan notices that the guy is grinning impossibly widely and also that his lips are kind of plump. His hair falls in tufts down to his deep, brown eyes, framed by thick black glasses, which would look ridiculous on anybody else but they sort of suit this guy really well. ‘I’m Brendon Urie.’ He finishes and offers his hand.
‘Ryan Ross.’ Ryan replies warily and takes the guy’s soft, slightly callused hand.
‘Awesome. Nice to meet you Ryan.’ Brendon says with an even wider grin if that is even possible. ‘So, are you here because of bad dreams or…’ He trails off.
Ryan shakes his head and averts his eyes from Brendon and over to the picture of him and another tall guy draped in purple hanging from the wall. ‘No dreams.’ He mutters and from the corner of his eyes he can see a small furrow appear between Brendon’s eyebrows.
‘Like, you can’t remember them?’ He asks slowly but clearly confused.
‘No. Like. I don’t dream.’
‘At all?’
Ryan shakes his head again. ‘Is that bad?’
This time Brendon shakes his head and says, ‘No, it’s just, I haven’t had somebody with your problem for about… 15 rotations now.’ Ryan’s slightly surprised because Brendon looks barely as old as Ryan and Ryan’s only been working for 12 rotations. ‘So, how long have you had this problem?’
‘Uh. Not that long. Maybe a rotation and a half, 2. I didn’t really notice at first.’ Ryan shrugs.
‘Right.’ Brendon says and nods.
‘So. Uh. How does this, um, actually like, go?’ Ryan asks, hands fidgeting, one coming up to brush a curled lock out of his face and Brendon smiles softly.
‘Right yeah. So. Basically, I dream for you.’ Ryan’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Yeah. We do this ritual and then you come back in a week, I tell you what I saw and we try to figure out what’s going on and how to stop it, or, well, start it in your case I guess.’
Ryan pauses. He’s not too sure how he feels about letting somebody into his head. It seems to intimate for a guy he met barely a few minutes ago. But this was what Spencer wanted and Ryan knows he can trust Spencer. ‘Yeah.’ He nods. ‘Okay.’
Brendon smiles but it looks sort of nervous this time. He climbs out of his chair and walks over to the small desk shoved into the corner of the room. He ruffles around in the draw for a while before producing 2 sheets of paper stapled together. He walks back over, retakes his seat and slides the paper over to Ryan, who takes it with a questioning glance.
‘It’s like a contract. It says that you give me permission to use your DNA for scientific purposes, you agree to pay the appropriate amount, you understand the procedure and that you won’t sue for like, sexual harassment or anything.’
Ryan takes the pen, trying not to think too hard about the last thing on the list and quickly signs his name on the line, not bothering to even check through it because Brendon seems like a trustworthy guy. At least, he looks harmless in his tiny and tight skinny jeans and his tiny pink t-shirt and bare feet. In fact, why is Ryan letting a guy who dresses like a pre-pubescent girl into his head?
Brendon takes back the paper and files it away in another drawer. ‘You ready?’ He asks Ryan and Ryan nods.
He watches Brendon pour the now cooled liquid into the 2 shot glasses from earlier, and to one he adds a few drops from the beaker. He keeps that one for himself and passes the other to Ryan. ‘So you need to down this in one shot, it won’t taste nice but you won’t feel any different afterwards.’
Ryan nods and Brendon counts down, ‘3-2-1’ before they both throw the liquid down their throats. Ryan feels it burn down his throat and splutters slightly, wincing at the aftertaste left in his mouth but after a moment the feeling subsides and he’s surprised to find Brendon was right, he doesn’t feel any different.
He looks up to find the other man watching him, having already discarded his glass. Ryan puts his back onto the table as Brendon chews on his bottom lip before standing up and walking around the table to sit next to Ryan on the sofa.
‘Okay. So don’t freak out.’ Brendon says and Ryan just has time to raise an eyebrow before Brendon has leaned forward and attached his mouth to Ryan’s, forcing his tongue inside.
Ryan is frozen for a minute and Brendon makes an annoyed noise, placing his hand on the back of Ryan’s neck and pulling him forward.
Ryan thinks wow his lips really are soft and then he’s kissing back and his tongue is tangling with Brendon’s.
All too soon Brendon pulls back, wipes a hand over his mouth almost hesitantly and stand ups. ‘Awesome, we’re done.’ He says in a slightly croaky voice and Ryan is momentarily confused before he thinks oh, it was part of the ritual and stands awkwardly.
‘Great, so, how much do I owe you?’ He asks and Brendon pauses for a moment.
‘Oh. Yeah. Right. It’s 50 tura.’ He says with a smile and Ryan draws out his wallet and hands Brendon the appropriate amount. ‘So, same time next week?’
Ryan nods and feels for a moment like a hooker before shaking it off and smiling. ‘Sure.’ He says and Brendon shows him out.
- - -
When Ryan gets home Spencer is already sat on the sofa, fingers curled firmly around a cup of coffee and a determined expression on his face.
‘Well?’ He says and Ryan slowly peels off his coat, places his bag on the floor and drifts over to the sofa, all the while Spencer watching him.
‘I find out in a week.’ He says.
‘That’s good.’ Spencer replies. ‘So what happened?’
‘Uh. I just had to drink some stuff.’ Ryan answers and doesn’t think about the part where his mouth was attached to Brendon’s and he had his tongue down the other man’s throat. ‘It was fine.’
- - -
Ryan slumps into work the next morning after another dreamless night. He doesn’t really know what he expected because Brendon quite clearly told him nothing would change, but he at least wanted to feel like something was happening. What it really felt like was Brendon ripping him off.
He feeds the dragons, taking extra time with Hobo because Jon isn’t around to do that stupid judgemental tutting thing even though he’s totally in love with Dylan himself, before ducking into Patrick’s office.
‘Hey Ryan.’ Patrick smiles and Ryan instantly feels more at ease.
‘Hey Trick.’ Ryan replies and slides onto the large sofa opposite the desk.
‘What can I do for you?’ He asks, peering over his glasses.
‘Uh. I need next Thursday off again.’ Ryan says with a sheepish smile.
Patrick sighs. ‘Still those dreams?’ He questions and Ryan nods. ‘Well get it fixed soon because the annual Dragon Claw Cup is coming up.’
Ryan knows he’s going to be in trouble if he doesn’t. The cup is the biggest event in the country and Dragon owners from around the world gather to compete. Many take their pets to Winger’s for last preparation and from experience Ryan knows he’ll be working roughly 16 hour days for the weeks leading up to the contest as well as the week it lasts for.
‘Yeah.’ Ryan nods wearily.
Patrick scowls slightly and leans over the desk. ‘Hey, Ry, are you sure you’re really alright?’
‘Of course.’ Ryan says with a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘They’re only dreams. Or well, lack of.’
Patrick doesn’t look convinced but the bell upfront rings and Ryan jumps up to go serve them.
- - -
‘How’s the dream thing going?’ Spencer asks over dinner Tuesday night.
‘I told you, I’ll find out on Thursday.’ Ryan grumbles back because nothing has changed over the last few days and it’s starting to get to him despite Brendon’s assurances.
‘Right.’ Spencer says, ‘pass the macaroni?’
- - -
Brendon’s apartment is exactly how Ryan remembers it. Except this time the only instrument out is an acoustic guitar and there are a couple of shirts scattered around what Ryan assumes is one of the bedrooms’ door.
Brendon tells him to come in and sit down as he flits around, picking things up and putting them back down and then he disappears down the hallway, returning with a journal clutched in his hand.
‘I knew I had it somewhere!’ He says and drops into the same armchair as last time.
Ryan nods and looks at Brendon expectantly. ‘So.’
‘So,’ Brendon starts and he looks almost anxious. ‘The thing is. It. Well. It’s an experimental magic, and it doesn’t always work.’
Ryan looks at him blankly. ‘And you’re saying…’
‘Uh. Well. I didn’t see anything. Like at all. I didn’t even have my own dreams.’ He replies and bites his lip in the way that Ryan now recognises as nerves.
‘So what does that mean?’ He asks and raises an eyebrow.
‘I’m not sure.’ Brendon replies and frowns. ‘But I’ve increased the concentration of the liquid so it should work this time.’
Ryan stops short. ‘I’m not paying again.’ He says bluntly and Brendon’s eyes widen.
‘What? No! I don’t work like that! You only pay once, the contract says that you are paying for the results not the service and you don’t have results yet so.’
‘Oh.’ Ryan replies.
‘Is that okay? You want to give it another go?’ Brendon asks, chewing his lip again.
Ryan nods and Brendon jumps up, heading into the kitchen and returning with the same set of equipment as last time.
He pours the liquid out again, adding a few drops from the beaker to one and gives the other to Ryan. ‘So this is gonna taste worse.’ He says and they both gulp it down.
And, boy, was Brendon right. Ryan immediately starts gagging and Brendon actually looks like he’s about to throw up. ‘Eh, god. I wasn’t expecting that.’ He says.
Ryan’s eyes widen as he pants in nice, clean, fresh air. ‘What do you mean you weren’t expecting that?’
‘Uh. Well. This mix is kind of experimental. I’ve never tried it before.’
‘Oh. Great.’ Ryan snorts and starts coughing.
Brendon looks a little put out but he still rounds the table and drops to his knees in front of Ryan. This time he takes Ryan’s face cautiously in his hands and leans forward, softly touching their lips together.
Ryan’s breath seems to rush from him as he leans into Brendon’s touch. At the feel of tongue on his lips he parts them and meets it with his own. He expects Brendon to pull away almost immediately like last time but he doesn’t. Instead he pushed further into Ryan, licking into his mouth thoroughly and Ryan raises his hands to knot in Brendon’s hair, holding him there.
He’s not sure how long it lasts but eventually Brendon pulls back with reddened cheeks and a sheepish smile. He avoids Ryan’s eyes as he stands up and flattens his hair out. ‘So, um, next week?’ He asks and Ryan nods, not really sure what just happened.
- - -
‘So?’ Spencer asks and prods Ryan with his toe.
‘What?’ Ryan says although he knows exactly what his best friend wants. This is precisely why he’s been avoiding making eye contact all night and now is not an exception except it would appear Spencer has given in on his usually discrete tactics.
‘Dreams? What’s going on?’ He presses.
‘Nothing. Ryan replies, eyes trailed on the TV.
‘Nothing?’ Ryan can just hear the way Spencer is raising an eyebrow right now.
‘Yeah. It didn’t work. We’re trying again with stronger magic. So. Next week.’ He replies and Spencer makes a displeased noise but turns back to the TV.
‘I just worry about you.’
It’s so quiet Ryan doesn’t really know if he hears it.
- - -
‘Patrick…’ Ryan says with a sigh as he drops onto the couch.
‘You need next Thursday off again don’t you.’ Patrick says with a small smile. He doesn’t mind that much. It’s a few weeks until the cup and business isn’t exactly crowded right now. Besides, Ryan’s a good employee and he hasn’t had a sick day in the whole 12 rotations he’s worked here.
‘I’m sorry.’ Ryan mutters but Patrick just laughs it off. And the truth is he’s kind of happy to miss work. He’s not sure why. And even is he was, he isn’t sure he would want to admit it.
‘Hey Ryan?’ Jon says, poking his head round the door.
‘Hmmm?’ Ryan replies, tipping his head over the back of the couch to peer at an upside down Jon.
‘A woman at the front asked for you specially. Um, I think she said something about Trevor?’
Ryan groans. He remembers Trevor. The thing tried to bite his head off. But still, he is a loyal employee so he tugs himself to his feet and stumbles out the door, into the front and puts on a smile.
‘Hey Mrs. Greenwald, how can I help you today?’
- - -
‘How are you feeling?’ Jon asks, perched at the edge of the counter while Ryan locks up.
‘Crappy.’ Ryan replies. He never thought there’d be a downside to too much sleep.
‘Do you think this guy can fix it?’
‘Hope so.’ Ryan says and remembers Brendon and Brendon’s lips and Brendon’s stupid glasses around his stupidly perfect eyes and his crinkly smile and his loud laugh and his ridiculous job and his tiny apartment and…
Jon just nods.
- - -
Ryan still doesn’t dream.
Not that he expects any different.
Honestly.
- - -
Thursday arrives and Ryan drags himself up the stairs to Brendon’s apartment. The door’s closed this time so he knocks and soon enough the door swings open to reveal a grinning and almost bouncing Brendon who instantly ushers him inside and onto the couch. And it’s sort of beautiful to Ryan. Which is weird.
Brendon bounds down the hallway and flings himself into the armchair, clutching the same journal as he retrieved last time.
‘Hi.’ He says with a grin.
‘Hey.’ Ryan replies warily, is it just him or does Brendon look a little too happy.
‘So, how are you?’
‘I’m, um, I’m pretty good. Yeah.’
‘Awesome!’
‘So…’
‘Oh yeah right!’ Brendon stops for a minute before rising to his feet and sitting next to Ryan on the sofa instead. Ryan watches him confused. ‘Do you know why people dream Ryan?’
‘Not really…’
‘Some people say it’s just the brain throwing together a bunch of images to make you feel like you have some kind of closure on life right?’ Ryan nods cautiously. ‘But they’re not. They’re not about that. They’re about the present and the future. They tell you want you want to happen and what’s going to happen. They reflect you as a person and where you are headed. What you want.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Ryan says because he doesn’t. What does that have to do with him?
Brendon smiles softly and edges closer. ‘You weren’t dreaming Ryan. You weren’t dreaming because you didn’t know what you wanted. Your life wasn’t going anywhere. You were stuck. You couldn’t focus on the future, you were barely even aware of the present.’
‘Were?’ Ryan asks, picking up on the past tense and this seems to brighten Brendon’s smile.
‘I didn’t dream. At all.’ Ryan frowns. ‘Until last night.’ Brendon hurries to add on.
Ryan is silent for a moment; relief swelling in him and Brendon looks at him hopefully. ‘What did you see?’ He eventually croaks and Brendon’s smile seems to dip slightly.
He watched Ryan closely for a minute, seems to be waiting for something but Ryan isn’t sure what so he just stares back. Eventually Brendon swallows, looks away and laughs a little. ‘Right.’ He says and reaches for the journal.
He hesitates a moment before holding the journal out. ‘I don’t control what you dream about Ryan.’ He says and it’s the most serious Ryan has head him all week. ‘Your dreams are your heart’s way of telling the brain what it wants. Of telling you what you really want.’
Ryan nods and takes the journal carefully, making sure not to brush his hand against Brendon’s because for some reason he really wants to and that’s not really normal.
He opens the journal and scans his finger down the contents page, looking for his name. He flips to page 227 and glances up at Brendon. He has his lip tucked tightly between his teeth in a way that draws Ryan’s eyes towards it as he gazes off to the side.
Ryan looks down at the page, eyebrows furrowing.
‘Um?’ He says and looks up to find Brendon watching him carefully again. ‘What…’
Brendon swallows and puts on a shaky smile. ‘It’s what you dream about.’
‘Oh.’ Ryan says and his face suddenly feels hot. He looks down at the page and, yes, it still same the same thing and then back up at Brendon. The large brown eyes look kind of nervous and all of a sudden Ryan thinks he may sort of kind of not really but maybe understands.
‘Oh.’ He repeats and suddenly he’s leaning forward against his own will, touching his lips softly against Brendon’s just for a moment before pulling back, anticipating Brendon’s reaction, expecting a shove or a slap or yelling or something because he’s not too sure how that just happened.
But instead he sees a blinding smile light up Brendon’s face and feels a hand curl around the back of his neck and draw him forward again. Their lips meet and it’s nothing new but it feels different because this time it means something, it’s not just the exchange of saliva, of DNA.
He smiles into the kiss and tugs on Brendon’s hips, pulling the other man onto his lap as the journal falls to the floor, the same page remaining open.
Brendon