Title: Waiting For the Train Wreck (CHAPTER 6)
Author: ryrolovesbden
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan (mention of Spencer, occasionally, tho)
POV: 3rd
Summary: In order to pay for the apartment he's renting, Spencer has to have two roommates. He moves Brendon in and a couple of weeks later, he invites Ryan to move in with them. Brendon, however, dislikes Ryan from the very start, and the feeling is most definitely mutual.
Disclaimer: Completely untrue. The only thing I own is the crappy title.
Author Notes: Feedback and constructive criticism always welcome and appreciated! Thank you to Violetta for beta'ing this chapter! ;P

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/>The next day, Ryan tried to avoid Brendon as much as possible. If he didn't bump into him, he wouldn't have to talk to him. If he didn't talk to him, they wouldn't have to discuss what had happened last night. If they didn't discuss last night, Ryan wouldn't feel so dirty and confused. Unfortunately, he couldn't avoid him forever.

"Why did you do that last night?"

Brendon shot a quizzical look at him. "Do what?"

Ryan shifted uneasily in the chair he was sitting in. "You know."

" 'You know'," Brendon mocked. "God, Ryan, what are you -- twelve? Besides, you weren't complaining when it was happening."

"I don't need you complicating things, Urie."

Brendon narrowed his eyes. "Since when did a hand job become complicated?" He swirled a finger in one of Ryan's empty ashtrays that suddenly appeared whenever Spencer left. "Damn, you're high-strung."

"You know what?" Ryan tried to keep his voice steady as he felt himself getting agitated. "A hand job becomes a little complicated when it's someone else's hand doing the job! I certainly didn't ask you to do that --"

"I don't recall hearing you tell me to stop, either."

"I'm quite capable of doing that sort of thing myself. I've had years of practice."

Brendon giggled. "I bet you have, Ryan. I just bet you have. Probably more than Spencer and I combined."

Alright, that tears it. "Just keep your girly hands off me, Brendon. I'm serious!"

"Okay, fine!" Brendon was shouting now. "It wasn't like I got anything out of it anyway!"

"Yeah, well, don't do me any favors!" Ryan was pissed. Pissed at Brendon and pissed at himself. He was protesting too much and he knew it. Worst of all, Brendon knew it.

"Someone better throw you a rope, dude, because you're drowning in denial," Brendon said as he walked out of the room.

As much as Ryan hated to admit it, Brendon was right. Ryan was drowning and doing so quickly. He knew he wasn't gay but there was definitely something not straight going on and it worried him. It worried him more knowing that there was another person in the house who apparently shared this feeling. If he hadn't opened his big mouth, he could have just sailed through the day and not brought it up at all. Oh, but no, that would have been way too easy.

"Brendon!" Ryan yelled from the living room. No answer. He yelled a second time before getting up and walking through the kitchen, seeing Brendon leaning against the counter, poking a straw through a Capri Sun pouch. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

Brendon's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah, I heard you. I'm not a fucking dog. I don't answer when someone yells my name. Now what the hell do you want? I'm busy." He struggled to toss the small cellophane wrapper that the drink's straw was wrapped in into the trash, but succeeded only in getting it stuck to his wrist and the palm of his hand several times.

"I just -- well, you never answered the question earlier." He felt stupid for bringing it up again but, seriously, Brendon hadn't answered it.

"Are we really going to talk about this again?"

"I want to know. I mean, the normal reaction to walking in and seeing someone masturbating would be ...what? To leave quietly and not let them know you were even there. Pretend it never happened. Not to go and take over for them. So, why did you do it?"

Brendon smirked. "I did it because I wanted to. Don't you ever do things just because you want to, Ryan? You know, just do something without thinking about it?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I wanted to do it, so I did. If you'd told me to stop, I would have stopped. I'm impulsive, what can I say?"

"Well. I guess it's a good thing we're not ALL impulsive, huh? Otherwise I might --" Ryan stopped himself before he said anything else about what he might have done to Brendon, had he been impulsive. "Well, whatever. Just keep your hands off of me. I still don't like you, by the way."

"Yeah, well, I don't like you, either, but if you ever get the inclination to get naked sometime when we're alone together, I won't have a problem with that."

What? Wait --WHAT? Ryan walked out of the room, shaking his head. There were so many things wrong with Brendon that Ryan couldn't even begin to dissect them.

******

Ryan was trying hard to ignore Brendon jerking off in the bed across the room. He was pretty sure Brendon was doing it on purpose just to irritate the hell out of him. He was getting pissed off and turned on at the same time and he was about to lose his mind. He felt himself getting hard listening to Brendon moaning and panting. He had told himself he was not going to masturbate to Brendon masturbating -- it wasn't going to happen. "Brendon, seriously," he said with a sigh." ... knock it off."

"Shut up, Ryan. It's my bed, my body, I can do what I want," he panted. "And unless you're going to talk dirty to me right now, just go to sleep."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan could tell Brendon was completely naked, the blankets thrown off. He refused to look directly at him because if he did, he probably wouldn't be able to stop. He closed his eyes, trying to think about his girlfriend or the bills or the fact that he was an unemployed loser, but he couldn't stop the thoughts from drifting back to what was going on across the room. He felt like a total voyeur and it was all Brendon's fault. Damn him for being so hot.

Unable to take much more, Ryan finally got up, went to the bathroom and took care of his little "problem". There was no way he was going to do it with Brendon's show going on. When he returned to the bedroom several minutes later, Brendon was obviously finished and was lying down, blankets covering him up to his waist, the guitar across his stomach and a gleam in his eye.

"I can't sleep."

Ryan gave him a hard stare. "Do it; play one chord. Just one and you'll be wearing that guitar as a necklace."