Skate Laces Make an Excellent Substitute
“Ross,” Brendon was snapping his fingers and clapping his hands. “Hello? Ross? Earth to Ryan Ross?” Brendon had just called him by his first name. Oops. It baffled Brendon; what could such a numbskull be in such deep thought about?
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Ross replied. He seemed to escape the daze he was in. Brendon was close to laughter, but Ross looked like he was close to tears. Brendon probably would’ve felt bad for the guy a couple of weeks ago, before Ross had completely destroyed their beautifully budding friendship. Before Ross had shoved his tongue down Tom’s throat at the Halloween party. That was probably the cause of Urie’s anger, although he would never admit it.
“So,” Brendon started, walking over to take a seat on his bed. He never really finished, never really had another thought after that.
“What, Urie?” Ross glared at him. Brendon definitely wasn’t imagining Ross looking like he was about to cry, his eyes were now glossy and his face was turning red. Brendon thought about making some kind of a snide comment, but then decided against it. If he had any hope of getting Ross to fuck him anytime soon, he needed to stop with the wisecracks. That didn’t mean Brendon still didn’t hate him, though.
“Tissue?” Brendon asked sympathetically, reaching across his bed and pulling a Kleenex out of its container on his nightstand. He extended his hand out for Ross to take the tissue. Ross raised an eyebrow at him, confused.
“Do you think I’m some kind of pussy? God, Urie,” he snapped back. Brendon decided that kindness was no longer an option. He’d given it a shot, and in all honesty, Ross was one stupid move away from getting kicked out.
“How’s it going up there boys?” Brendon’s dad called out. They both shot each other looks, almost saying to one another “don’t say a thing,”
“Uh, Mr. Urie, there’s a lot of work, I don’t think we’ll be able to get it done very quickly,” Ross replied. Was he about to do what Brendon feared?
“Oh, feel free to stay over then to get it done. I can drive you boys in the morning. Do you want an air mattress?” Brendon’s dad asked.
“Are you fucking kidding me Ross?” Brendon said through gritted teeth. Ryan just shrugged and winked at him. Fuck. Ross had just winked at him.
“That would be so great, thank you, Mr. Urie,” Ross replied, the fake smile audible in his voice.
“No problem, Ryan,” Brendon’s dad said, then returned to whatever he had been doing previously.
Brendon was furious, how dared Ross invite himself to stay over at Brendon’s house without at least buying him dinner first? Or at least the promise of sex that night. Either would suffice as payment for staying over that night.
“What the fuck?” Brendon asked him.
“Listen, as much as I despise you, I’d rather spend the night here than in the streets,” Ryan said.
“Isn’t your dad like, coming home soon? How late can he fucking work?” Brendon asked. Ryan didn’t answer; he just bit his lip and looked down at the ground. Oh, fuck. He looked really fucking hot when he did that.
Brendon attempted to ignore his primitive urges in favour of memory of how much he fucking hated Ross. But that was pretty fucking hard when Ross was a few steps away from his bed.
Brendon considered asking Ross the question. The one that had been on his mind since he walked in on Ross and Tom at the Halloween party. Ross owed Brendon at least that much, considering he was kind enough to open his home in this time of crisis.
“So Ross, are you gay?” Brendon asked. It wasn’t an insult, but rather a completely genuine question. Ross’s eyes bulged out of his head when he realized what Brendon had just asked him.
“No! What the fuck, Urie?” Ross responded in frenzy. It’s not like it was an unreasonable question, Brendon was pretty sure he had seen Ross about 30 seconds away from fucking another dude just a couple of days ago.
“Are you bi?”
“No!”
“Pan?”
“No.”
“Straight?”
“N-Yes,” Ross finally gave a positive answer, but Brendon knew he was lying.
“Then why were you and Tom getting it on in the bathroom at the party?” Brendon asked, shooting bullets with his eyes. Ross looked around the room a little awkwardly. He then took a seat on the floor. Oh, shit was about to get serious.
“That’s none of your fucking business, Urie,” Ross sighed. Huh. A closeted confused gay. Brendon could work with that. He liked a challenge.
“You decided to parade into my home with no invitation, I think the least you can do is explain what the fuck that was,” Brendon said, avoiding contact with Ross’s piercing gaze at all costs. Ross rolled his eyes and moved to a cross legged position. Brendon noticed that his own leg was bouncing.
“Listen, that was nothing, alright? It was- it was a mistake. I was drunk. He was drunk. End of story. And if you ever say a word about it to anyone, you’re fucking dead,” Ross clarified. Mighty big talk for a kid who couldn’t handle walking 20 minutes to Spencer’s house.
“I’d like to see you try,” Brendon muttered under his breath.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing, I didn’t say anything,”
“Can I borrow your shower? I was at practice before this,” Ross asked. Brendon frowned. His brain had been too preoccupied with wanting Ross to fuck him to realize that he reeked of hockey.
Brendon thought about that question for a moment. He could make Ross suffer for his actions and go to school the next day absolutely disgusting. On the other hand, his endocrine system certainly enjoyed the thought of having a naked Ryan Ross in his household.
“Yeah, sure,” Brendon replied, allowing his dick to think for him. Only in his mind, he added “if you let me join you.”
“Thanks,” Ross returned, and Brendon led him to the bathroom.
When Brendon returned to his bedroom, he heard the sound of water running through the pipes. He couldn’t help but let his brain picture a naked Ryan Ross in his shower. It wasn’t his fault. He briefly considered attempting to get a view, but then remembered that they had varsity practice soon anyways. He didn’t need to sneak around to see Ross naked. Plus, it wasn’t like he hadn’t already.
The rest of the night was filled with awkward silences and Brendon’s feeble attempts to say something - anything - to get Ross into his bed that night. He failed, no thanks to his father bringing an air mattress up to the room. Curse you, Boyd Urie.
Brendon felt strange having Ross in his room. He hadn’t had a sleepover in years. He had never really felt close enough to any of his fellow Hurricanes, and didn’t really have any friends outside of his hockey. Well, that was sort of a lie, he was really close with Dallon, but no way in hell would his parents let a gay Mormon stay in their house. Ironic, really, seeing as one was there every single day.
Ross was boring. He made Brendon turn Sportscentre onto his plasma screen TV, then made a wisecrack about how Brendon was a rich bitch for having a plasma screen TV. He felt the need to point out every single time a rerun of Brendon’s dad was on. Brendon cringed every single time, and thought about how he probably would’ve kicked Ross out by now if he didn’t look so fucking good shirtless.
Ross seemed like the type who didn’t sleep. Brendon couldn’t really sleep either, but he didn’t really have anyone to talk to. It would’ve been nice if he had something to pass the time until morning.
It was around 2AM when Brendon had a revelation as the mechanical glow of the TV droned on about Maurice Richard.
“Ross,” he whispered.
“What the fuck do you want?” Ross replied. The air was heavy between the two of them.
“My parents are gonna want to see the French project we have due today,” Brendon breathed.
“Fuck,” Ross cursed. “How much French do your parents know?”
“We’re from Edmonton, take a wild fucking guess,”
“Great, I’ll just write down something filled with a bunch of sacres or something and we’ll be fine,” Ross returned, sitting up and putting on the flashlight on his phone. “Where do you keep your paper?”
“Desk drawer,” Brendon returned numbly. Ross stood up off of the air mattress he had been resting on, the dim glow of his iPhone flashlight illuminating his thin and long body. His shirt was off, revealing a slightly muscular chest and back. Fuck. Why was Ross getting him so hot?
Ross bent over, the desk drawer squeaking as he opened it. Fuck. His ass looked really, really good. He had to bite his lip to prevent himself from making any kind of noise. Brendon reminded himself to make Ross bend over more often, although he was unsure when that opportunity would arise again.
Brendon was disappointed when Ross was standing up straight again, and returning to the air mattress.
“Don’t you need a pen?” Brendon asked in a quiet voice, hoping for another opportunity to check out Ross’s ass. He was having a very hard time trying to make it appear as though the soft v in Ross’s hips wasn’t turning him on.
“Got one,” Ross replied, pulling a blue pen out of his Adidas trackpants. Damn. Brendon thought he’d had a great opportunity to look there.
Ross went straight to work, looking focused and concentrated on whatever piece of French nonsense he was writing this time. Brendon’s horny teenage brain found everything that Ross did seem super attractive.
It wasn’t until then, when the only sound in the room was Brendon’s sheets ruffling as he rolled onto his back and Ross’s pen scraping against the piece of paper, when Brendon realized he was alone in his room with Ross. With his door closed.
Fuck, there were really no limits if Ross would take that pole out of his ass and just give in to the obvious sexual compatibility. Brendon was certainly no stranger to masturbatory fantasies about one Ryan Ross. There was one in particular that Brendon’s mind personally seemed to prefer to play out.
Brendon and Ross would get home from a varsity hockey practice and end up at Brendon’s house. Naturally, Brendon’s parents wouldn’t be home, and the two would be left to participate in whatever carnal activities they so desired.
Ross would drop his hockey bag on the ground, and Brendon would match him and do the exact same thing. They’d start making out, not that Brendon really had much experience with that aside from 7 Minutes in Heaven and Spin the Bottle as a preteen. Brendon would appreciate the presence of Ross’s tongue in his mouth. Brendon would really, really appreciate it.
Slowly, they’d make their way up Brendon’s staircase, beginning to pull at one another’s clothing. Brendon would feel nervous, he’d never done anything like this before.
They’d find themselves in Brendon’s bedroom, and Brendon would slam the door behind them as Ross would practically throw him onto the queen-sized bed. Brendon would laugh as Ross would suck on his neck so hard that Brendon was certain there’d be a hickey afterwards. Ross’s tongue would tickle his neck.
Ross would pull off his own shirt, to reveal that gorgeously muscular body of his. Well, not really that muscular, but Brendon prefered to live in a fantasy where Ross would be strong enough to fuck him into oblivion.
Then Ross would look him in the eye, with a sexy, seductive eyebrow wag, and ask “You’ve never done this before, have you?”
Brendon would just bite his lip and give Ross innocent eyes as he would shake his head. Ross would start kissing him again.
The pair would slowly peel off each other’s clothes, and right before Brendon would go to retrieve some sort of protection and/or lubricant, he would ask “Hey, Ross?”
“What, Urie?”
“Can you tie me up?” he would provide, hoping, just hoping, that Ross might comply.
“With what? We don’t have anything,” Ryan would reply, with a disappointed look in his eyes. He too, would be pained at the thought that they couldn’t have kinky sex. Then Brendon would become an absolute genius.
“Skate laces,” Brendon would say.
“What?” Ross would ask, confused.
“Tie me up with your skate laces,” Brendon would repeat.
Ross would immediately scramble out of the bed and go on a wild search for his skates to pull the laces out of. Brendon would smile when he got a really good look at Ross’s naked ass.
Ross would return successfully with a skate lace in each hand, and assume a pose of victory. Brendon would laugh and then tell Ross to get his ass back in bed. Their lips wouldn’t break contact as Ross would skillfully wrap the skate laces around Brendon’s wrists and the bedposts. Brendon would laugh against Ross’s lips as he heard the condom packet open-
“Urie? Urie? Why the fuck are you making out with a pillow?” Ross asked him, laughing. Brendon’s eyes widened, as he realized that he had moved his pillow from under his hear and was holding it to his face. His lips were puckered against it, and it was completely slobber covered. Oh, fuck. He wasn’t gonna hear the end of this for weeks.
“I wasn’t,” Brendon replied, moving it back to under his head, turning over and away from Ross. His saliva felt weird and wet against his ear.
“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure I heard you moaning too! Ha, fuck! You’re such a horny loser,” Ross cackled, rolling around laughing on his air mattress. Brendon imagined him saying in addition “If you’re really that desperately horny, just say the word and I’ll fuck you.”
The thought went straight to Brendon’s dick. Fuck. Dead puppies, Brendon, dead puppies.
Brendon tried to ignore any and all sexual thoughts about Ross as he fell asleep, but his dreams that night seemed to have a different idea. When he woke up he could vaguely remember dreaming about him and Ross contorted into positions that Brendon didn’t know possible. He really hated himself.
Sure enough, Ross was still awake when Brendon rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He was writing something on a piece of paper, but it didn’t look French like the other pieces of paper around him. Not enough useless accents. Brendon tried to see what he was writing, but his eyesight was too poor without his contacts in.
He stretched and got out of bed, Ryan remained focussed on whatever it was that he was writing. Brendon was a little offended that Ryan didn’t do as much as look at him. The time on his phone read 7:45. Shit, he needed to hurry his ass up.
He went into his walk-in closet and pulled his signature flannel and ripped jeans combo off of a rack.
As he peeled off what he had been wearing the night before, he considered offering Ross a change of clothes. Mostly because he thought it was absolutely obnoxious that all of the Huskies paraded around the school in their warm up suits. Also because Ross’s warm up suit really stank and he’d be trapped in a confined car with him.
After changing his own clothes, he grabbed a blue flannel and one of his many pairs of Roots sweatpants. He thought that the blue would bring out the little amber flecks in Ross’s brown eyes. God, that was gay.
He emerged from his closet fully clothed and tossed Ross the extra clothing without saying a word to him. Ross winced when his face was met with Brendon’s clothes.
“Thanks?” Ross mumbled.
Brendon left his room and found himself brushing his teeth in his bathroom, wondering exactly why he had been being so kind to Ross. Especially considering the events of Halloween. Brendon would never admit it, but seeing Ross making out with Oakes absolutely broke his heart. It gave him a tiny speckle of hope, though, because it meant that Brendon still stood some sort of chance. Looking at his face in the mirror, Brendon was really pathetic.
He spat the toothpaste out of his mouth and placed his contact lenses in his eyes. He exited the bathroom to run downstairs. His father was sitting in the kitchen, and he froze. He wasn’t really in the mood to be chewed out about having an impromptu sleepover with someone on the enemy team.
Alas, he knew it was coming, so he just walked in. His father was reading this month’s copy of Hometown Hockey. Brendon hadn’t been aware it had been released yet. Ross was on the cover with Spencer Smith. They were both wearing their equipment with their matching Huskies jerseys on. They were back to back but their necks were craned and they were smiling at one another. The cover story title read “Childhood Best Friends Ross & Smith on their Way to First Round of OHL Draft”. Brendon frowned. He wasn’t aware the two of them had become so popular in the hockey world.
“Morning dad,” Brendon grumbled. His father looked up from the magazine.
“You know Brendon, I thought that I would be mad at you for inviting Ryan Ross over with no explanation,” Brendon’s father started. He never seemed to finish that thought.
“But?” Brendon asked, hoping that there was a but to the situation.
“He should be a good influence on you. Look at him. He’s going places. You could learn to be a little more like him and Smith,” he contemplated, returning to his reading. Brendon cringed. He would never, ever act like Ross and Smith, even if it meant getting drafted. Brendon reminded himself to burn the magazine when he got home.
Ross emerged down the staircase, and Brendon had to bite his lip to prevent himself from making any noise. He’d never seen actually Ross in a flannel before. It suited him. Along with his weird shoulder length haircut, it almost made him look like a lesbian. A hot lesbian, like, the kind you’d tell your bros that you’d turn straight. Fuck.
“Alright boys, let’s go,” Boyd said flatly.
Brendon grabbed his school bag and the group left and piled into one of the three pickup trucks they owned. God, could the Uries be any more stereotypically Albertan?
Brendon sat shotgun while Ross awkwardly twiddled with a loose thread on the flannel Brendon had lent him. That was a Roots flannel, it cost like, $50. If Ross ruined it, Brendon would never forgive him. It was basically silent besides the hum of Carrie Underwood on the radio.
“So, Ryan, I was reading about you and Spencer in Hometown Hockey. Were you really top of the league in both goals and points last year?” Brendon’s dad asked. Brendon cringed and looked back at Ross, who was smiling smugly.
“Yes, I was,” Ross beamed.
“And you weren’t drafted? Any team would be lucky to have you,” Brendon’s dad said. Great, just what Brendon needed. Ross being the child that he always wanted in place of Brendon.
“Thank you, Mr. Urie. I actually declined to be drafted, my name was on the original list but I had it taken off,” Ross replied. Brendon was confused. Who in their right mind would give up the opportunity to be OHL drafted? Brendon hadn’t made the draft last year, himself. So this year was his last chance.
“Really? Ha, it’s too bad they couldn’t have given your place to Brendon!” his father laughed. Ross snickered. Brendon knew that he didn’t make the draft last year; did his father really need to keep reminding him?
They arrived at the school and Brendon said a quick goodbye to his father. Even though their lockers were almost beside one another, Ross walked in the opposite direction from Brendon.