10 Reasons Never To Room With Brendon Urie, Part 1
Ryan had really, really hoped it had been a dream: that Mr. Beckett and Mr. Saporta hadn’t sat him and Urie down and told them that they needed to get along or they’d be off of the team.
He especially hoped he had been dreaming when Mr. Saporta told them that they wouldn’t get to choose their rooming for the Montreal tournament, and would have to room together in order to “bond”. And if they fought during that time period, they’d be off the team.
The two of them had protested their coaches’ ridiculous idea, but to no avail. Ryan cursed under his breath as he walked into the hotel room with Urie in tow.
Ryan pulled out a suitcase rack and threw his bag on it and his hockey bag on the ground beside it.
Urie threw all of his stuff onto the bed that Ryan had deemed to be the good bed when he walked in the room. That left him extremely displeased.
Urie got up and mumbled something about going to the bathroom, and did just that. Ryan saw his opportunity, and threw all of Brendon’s things on the other bed, taking a seat in the prime real estate that Urie had attempted to rob him of.
Ryan was scrolling through his Instagram feed when Urie reappeared from the bathroom door.
“What the fuck, Ross?” Urie asked, sounding angry.
“What?” Ryan asked smugly.
“You know exactly what,” Urie said. “Move or I’m sitting on you.”
“Go ahead,” Ryan smiled smugly, knowing Urie was way too much of a pussy to actually do that.
“For the record, this is your own fucking fault,” Urie replied, plopping himself down onto Ryan’s lap. He didn’t weigh that much, which came as a surprise, but that certainly didn’t help the fact that he was sitting directly atop Ryan’s knees, bending them slightly backwards. It definitely hurt.
“Listen, Urie, get the fuck off of me or you’ll be sorry,” Ryan grumbled before making a failed attempt to bend his knees and launch Urie off of him.
“What’re you gonna do? Fight me and risk losing your spot on the team?” Urie asked. He was right, there was no way he’d do that.
“Fuck off Urie!” Ryan groaned, attempting to push Urie off of him but failing miserably. Urie burst into laughter.
“God, you’ve been making the varsity team since the ninth grade? What’d you do, suck Mr. Saporta off or something?” he laughed.
Ryan’s blood boiled with anger. He was sick and tired of Urie making gay jokes about him. The rumors had died down ages ago, why was Urie so fucking persistent about it? And so fucking homophobic. Ryan was fucking sick of him.
“Shut the fuck up,” Ryan warned, and Urie did exactly that, but still didn’t move from where he sat. Ryan was very, very irritated by the manbaby who was currently sitting on him. He silently prayed that someone or something would save him from this situation.
As if on cue, his prayers were answered by a knock on the door accompanied by Mr. Beckett’s voice calling “5 minutes!”
Oh, shit. Ryan had forgotten to change out of his disgusting clothing that he had spent the previous six hour bus ride in. Spencer had accidentally spilled coffee all over Ryan’s sweatpants as they went over a bump. Jon and Brendon had laughed at him from the coach bus seats across the aisle. Ryan had to spend three hours in coffee covered sweats, and he still hadn’t changed out of them.
“Get off, Urie,” Ryan ordered. For some reason, this time he obliged and pushed off of Ryan’s knees. Fuck, they hurt now.
Ryan got off of the bed and walked over to his suitcase. He pulled out the first pair of pants he could find, which coincidentally happened to be his varsity warmup pants. He cast them aside and pulled out the next pair, some old pair of black skinny jeans. He momentarily contemplated going into the bathroom to change, but changed his mind because well, it wasn’t like Urie hadn’t seen him naked before.
He quickly changed his pants and then exited the room without saying a word to Urie. God, what had made their coaches think that this was a good idea?
He walked through the hotel hallway; the tacky carpet with weird floral patterns cushioned any sound that may have been emitted from his converse sneakers.
At the elevator, Jon was waiting with Spencer and the two coaches.
“Glad to see you two haven’t killed each other yet,” Spencer teased.
“Oh, shut up,” Ryan replied. He was very aware of Mr. Saporta staring at him with a raised eyebrow.
The elevator made a little bing! sound, and the doors opened for the group to walk in.
“Where’s Brendon?” Mr. Beckett asked, noticing the absence of Ryan’s hotel roommate. He then
“Back in the room,” Ryan said, attempting to mask any disdain in his voice. “He’ll be down in a minute, I’m sure.”
Everyone was awkwardly quiet, except for Mr. Saporta who had a weird grin on his face. Ryan found it unsettling.
The elevator dinged and they were released from the confining space. Ryan very deeply hoped that Urie would just keep watching TV and forget that he needed to be at dinner. Ryan had been on varsity for long enough to know that you were forced into the buddy system with your roommates at away tournaments. He was in no mood for buddying with Brendon Urie.
The majority of the team was already waiting in the lobby; all of the couches were taken up by other players.
“So, Ryan,” Jon began.
“God, Jon, I’m not in the mood for your friendship bullshit,” Ryan said a little too harshly. Jon’s face fell a little bit. Ryan immediately felt bad.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. Spencer shot Ryan a sour look. Ryan kind of hated how close Spencer and Jon were getting. He was especially jealous that they got to bunk together while Ryan was stuck dealing with Urie.
Spencer and Jon started talking about something while Ryan pulled out his phone and attempted to tune out all of the noise. He had message notifications from Z and- Tom Oakes? God, Ryan was not in the mood for a confrontation about the Halloween party last Friday. He was already unhappy enough about Tom being on this trip.
He opened his phone to Z’s messages, u get there ok?, which was sent about 45 minutes ago, and don’t tell me uries already killed u lol, which was much more recent.
He sent back a quick response of we’re fine, then exited the messages app, leaving a tiny red badge with a number 3 in the centre on the top right corner of the icon. He felt a tiny pang of guilt in his stomach, but ignored it. He hadn’t spoken to Tom since they’d been caught sucking face at the Halloween party. Thank god they hadn’t gotten any further before Urie had decided to fuck everything up.
Speak of the devil, when Ryan looked up from his phone, Urie was talking to Jon and Spencer. Why, exactly, Ryan wondered, were his friends so eager to befriend the enemy? It wasn’t fair to him.
“Okay, I think that’s everyone, let’s go boys,” Mr. Saporta announced, standing in front of the group with Mr. Beckett and waving for everyone to follow them.
When they walked out the door, it was already dark outside. The sky was filled with the artificial glow of the Montreal city lights, and heavy disco music played in the background. In Etobicoke or Quebec City, no one would expect a Thursday night to be made for partying, but in Montreal, it was just common sense.
Ryan refused to speak with Urie. There was no way that he was dealing with that asshole outside of the time they were mandated to. He spent their walk to the restaurant with his hands firmly tucked in his pockets attempting to ignore whatever stupid thing Urie was blabbering on to Brent about.
He considered attempting to push his way into Spencer and Jon’s conversation, about the Leafs and the Bruins, but decided it would be too much work, and wasn’t really in the mood for defending the city that had caused this turmoil.
They got to their destination, and Ryan was happy to see that it was a traditional French Canadian restaurant.
The outside of the restaurant was decorated like a typical café, and it was considerably small. Ryan hoped that it would be able to sustain their 22-person group.
When they walked in, it looked like most restaurants Ryan had eaten at in Quebec. There were brick walls, and circular tables with white tablecloths. It was nothing fancy, which Ryan certainly liked. He was not prepared to spend a ridiculous amount of money on food that he could probably cook himself.
“We’ve got the whole restaurant for the next couple of hours, sit wherever you want,” Mr. Beckett announced.
Ryan followed Jon and Spencer to a table set for four people in one of the back corners. Ryan sat in between Jon and Spencer, happy to be back and included in the group.
Ryan picked up his menu and noticed it was written entirely in French. He chuckled a little bit to himself, knowing that almost no one would be able to comprehend what any of it said. He wondered just why the coaches had chosen this place.
“You’re gonna have to order for me,” Spencer laughed.
“Yeah, me too,” Jon added. Ryan was more than happy to.
“How does it feel to be back home?” Spencer asked.
“I was born in Toronto, dipshit,” Ryan laughed.
“Yeah, but you’re from Quebec, aren’t you?” Spencer said.
“Quebec City, not Montreal,” Ryan explained. The two were very different. Not that an Ontarian would understand.
“Same difference,” Spencer shrugged. If it had been anyone else, Ryan probably would’ve gone on a rant about the cultural and historical differences of Quebec City and Montreal, but Spencer had already heard it a million times before.
“Uh, guys?” Ryan looked up from his menu to see Urie’s face looking down at them.
“What?” Ryan snarled. Spencer shot him a “be nice” look.
“Everyone’s tables are full and I don’t want to sit alone,” Brendon said, his left hand rubbing the back of his neck. Ugh, where were the Hurricanes the only time Ryan would ever need them? Right - none of them were even on varsity except Brent, who was sitting at the table with Ryan’s secondary friend group, Dan, Tom and Nick.
“Sure!” Jon said, not bothering to consult the other members of the group before allowing the Stephen Harper to Ryan’s Thomas Mulcair to sit at their table. Ryan shot Jon an ugly look, but Jon just shrugged and smiled.
As Urie pulled the chair out it made an ugly squeaking noise. Ryan couldn’t be any more irritated.
Ryan watched as Urie struggled to read the menu. He laughed a little bit under his breath, because he knew that Urie fancied himself as some kind of King of French. He really couldn’t even carry on a conversation.
A waiter appeared in a white button up shirt and black dress pants with a scratch pad.
“Parlez-vous francais?” he asked. Before Ryan could jump in and say no, Urie immediately interjected “Oui!” Dumbass. He didn’t even know how to say oui, how would he manage to order for himself?
“C’est bon! Que voudriez-vous boire?” the waiter asked them. His accent was very thick, even more so than Ryan’s father.
“Est-ce que je-” Urie started. There was no way that Ryan was going to let him be that fucking rude to that poor waiter.
“Nous voudrions l’eau, s’il vous plaît,” Ryan cut him off.
“Pour tout l’monde?” the waiter asked.
“Oui,” Ryan responded, and the waiter left them.
"What the fuck was that about, Ross?” Urie snapped at him.
“Um, you were being rude to that waiter? He didn’t deserve to put up with your shitty French and rude grammatical conventions,” Ryan replied quickly. Jon and Spencer remained completely silent, exchanging nervous glances with one another. A bomb could go off between Ryan and Urie at any second.
“Excuse me? I was using proper grammar,” Brendon scoffed.
“As if! What you just said was like you were speaking to some slob you had absolutely no respect for! Especially in French Canada!” Ryan felt his face heating up.
“Who died and made you King of French Canada?” Brendon mocked. “You’re not even French Canadian!”
Ryan’s eyes widened, then he burst into hysterical laughter. God, Urie was really fucking stupid.
“You- You think I’m a fucking Ontarian?” Ryan laughed. Even Spencer and Jon were laughing quietly along with him. Ryan had made himself very clear for a very long time to almost everyone who knew him that he was French. How did Urie not fucking know?
Urie’s cheeks turned bright red, and he did absolutely everything in his power to avoid eye contact with Ryan.
“I knew you were dense Urie, but I didn’t know you were that fucking dense,” Ryan continued laughing.
“I’m not dense,” Brendon muttered.
“Vraiment? Comment ça t’savais-tu pas que ch’suis Québécois?Je l'ai dit toute l’temps en ‘a classe de Francais. Aussi, j'même sacre quand on se bat,”Ryan smirked. Normally in class he would tone down his French Canadian accent, but he did his best to imitate his father as he mocked Urie. To Urie he probably sounded like he was speaking a different language. Urie looked dumbfounded.
“I-” Urie started, but couldn’t finish his sentence.
“C’est que j’ai pensé,” Ryan smiled. He loved feeling completely and totally superior to Urie. Pride boiled in his chest.
“So, how about the hockey games we have coming up?” Jon asked, trying to change the subject. Ryan wanted to continue on the subject of why Urie was a fucking tool, but Jon was obviously extremely uncomfortable.
The waiter reemerged with four glasses of water, and there was obvious tension between the group.
“Décidez-vous que vous voudriez?” he asked them.
“Moi et mes copains, on voudrait le poulet,” Ryan said, gesturing to his two friends on either side of him. Jon and Spencer nodded, they knew enough French to know what he had ordered.
“Et il est vegetarian, donc, il voudrait la salade,” Ryan added, putting special sting into the fact that Brendon was not, and never would be referred to as his “copain”.
Brendon's eyes lit up for some unknown reason, Ryan was annoyed. Why was he like this?
“You- how did you know I was vegetarian?” Urie asked, eyes wide and bright. Oh, like Ryan cared about Urie's weird food habits.
“Yeah, you never shut up about it,” Ryan mumbled. In reality, Brendon almost never talked about it, Ryan had picked it up in a conversation while working on their English project and remembered it for some strange reason.
The rest of that evening was extremely awkward. Jon, Ryan and Spencer talked most of the time, while Urie sat and twiddled with his phone. Ryan was pretty sure that Urie wasn’t actually texting anyone, but rather attempting to appear busy.
They returned to the hotel, and Ryan was about ready to pass out from the lengthy day. He was very pleased when Urie announced that he planned to spend what was left before curfew in Brent’s room. They’d probably be jacking off to pay per view porn on their hotel TV, but Ryan just needed a break from Urie.
He brushed his teeth and stripped down into boxers, preparing himself to sleep. Not that he would even be getting any sleep that night. He flipped on the TV to Sportscentre, because he certainly needed some background noise and wasn’t going to miss out on whatever the latest news in the hockey community was. Especially considering he had missed the Canadiens game that night.
Unlike his counterparts, Ryan did not utilize his time away from the enemy to masturbate. Instead, he did something actually productive. He decided he would write.
He went to his suitcase and pulled out a moleskine black leather journal, as well as a pen, and retired to the tiny bed that Urie had previously sat on him in attempt to steal.
Ryan enjoyed being away from home, but the issue with hotels in Quebec was that they very much resembled those in France. The beds were miniscule, barely enough space for a single person. The rooms were decorated with drab colours and floral carpets.
It was dull, but it was quiet. Ryan could focus without the constant hum of Urie’s hyperactive personality. Ryan was growing very tired of it very quickly.
Pretending that the current situation did not exist, Ryan thought for a moment, then let his pen glide across the page. The words flowed out of his mind and onto the paper almost seamlessly.
I will revolutionize love.
No longer will I conform
To this
Ridiculous preset that society has handed me.
I will wear his beard burn proudly on my face.
I will start a revolution in his eyes
And crumble establishment
In his kiss.
Ryan liked what he had written. It certainly wasn’t awful. Not his best work either though.
Unfortunately, his blissful and poetic thought was interrupted by one Brendon Urie opening the door to their hotel room. Ryan squinted his eyes, but instead of getting up to put away his journal, he shoved it underneath the soft pillow. There was no way in hell he was risking losing the good bed.
Urie looked him up and down and bit his lip. His expression was impossible to read. Ryan didn’t like it.
Urie walked into the bathroom, where Ryan assumed he was brushing his teeth and changing. Ryan quickly pulled himself out of bed and threw his journal back into his suitcase, before rushing back into the bed and pulling the covers up to his neck. It was his, and Urie would have to learn to deal with it.
“Move Ross,” Urie said through gritted teeth. Ryan looked up at a half naked Urie. It was dark in the room, but Ryan could still see the curves of his muscular chest and abs. He looked soft, his hair was fluffy and he had glasses on? Since when did Urie wear glasses? Ryan was kind of annoyed that Urie looked so good in them.
“No,” Ryan said firmly, rolling over and turning away so that he couldn’t see Urie. There was no way Ryan was switching.
He heard Urie’s footsteps, hopeful that he would be going to the other bed and shutting up so that Ryan might finally get some sleep that night.
He felt the warmth of the covers disappear momentarily, and the bed dip to his left side. No. This wasn’t fucking happening.
“Get out,” Ryan spat.
“No,” Urie replied, squirming in and attempting to find any space in the little bed. Ryan was pissed the fuck off.
“Are you really this much of a fucking child, Urie? You’d rather sleep on top of me than let us both get any sleep? God,” Ryan rolled his eyes. Urie rolled over and found himself on top of Ryan. Considering the size, it was really his only option. Ryan was certainly unhappy about the situation, but Urie was not going to fall asleep on top of him. That wasn’t going to happen in a million years.
“I had it first,” Brendon mumbled sleepily.
“Fuck off!” Ryan yelled, attempting to push Urie off of him, but Urie transferred his weight in the opposite direction, nulling Ryan’s attempts.
Urie let out a breezy laugh, and closed his eyes. Ryan was fucking pissed. There was no possible way Ryan would be able to fall asleep with Urie’s boney hips pressing against his own. Urie pulled off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand beside them. Ryan was certainly glad that the plastic wouldn’t be sticking into his neck.
He figured he’d let Brendon fall asleep and then push him out. That was a good plan.
He heard his phone vibrate, or was it Brendon’s phone? He grabbed his phone off of the nightstand where he had plugged it in to charge earlier.
He had several notifications, most of them from instagram. A couple from Twitter. But the one that stood out the most was the 3 new messages from Tom. Fuck.
Ryan had known he would have to face Tom at some point. He absolutely planned on it. Just, not this soon. It had been less than a week! Did Tom really expect him to be fully recovered from basically having his worst enemy discover he was secretly into dudes?
Ryan gathered up the courage to open his messages.
Ryan can we just talk abt what happened
Pls
Those two had a timestamp from earlier in the day, 5:37. He had been sending desperate messages like that all week. Ryan had just left him on read every time.
Ryan can u come 2 my room
I just want 2 talk abt halloween
And those were from a little while after they had gotten back to the hotel, 9:18.
Fuck u 2 ry with 6 red heart emojis beside it, and that had just come through. Fuck. He liked Tom. The two had made great friends. He might have actually been dating Tom now, if Urie hadn’t fucked everything up. Besides, Ryan was terrified at the thought of being in a relationship with another man. After getting caught so easily, Ryan wouldn’t be doing anything like that again anytime soon.
He felt guilty after reading that last message. He didn’t want to ruin his friendship with Tom over one shitty drunken makeout session. Actually, it was a pretty fucking awesome drunken makeout session.
He owed Tom an apology.. So he finally texted Tom back a very quick sorry, and then opened his messages with Z.
Hey u still up? Ryan texted her, knowing the answer was probably yes. It wasn’t even that late, only around 11:30. He sent the same thing to each Jon and Spencer as well, hoping to get a response out of at least one of them.
His thoughts on his good friends were quickly interrupted when he felt something poking his leg. Oh, fuck no.
He threw Urie off of the bed as quickly as humanly possible, not giving the other boy time to prevent it.
“Ow!” he shouted.
“Did you just pop a fucking boner?” Ryan yelled, disgusted that Urie would do something like that while literally on top of Ryan? He felt incredibly violated.
“That fucking hurt Ross!” Brendon yelled back.
“Urie! You just fucking-” Ryan returned in shock, unsure what exactly he could say past this point.
Urie sat up on the floor, looking up at a horrified Ryan Ross. Ryan literally could not believe what had just happened. That was so gross. Couldn’t Urie keep it in his pants for two seconds?
“Sorry,” Urie muttered, standing up and looking awkwardly around the room.
“You’re not getting back in here like that,” Ryan informed him. God, what the fuck Urie?
Urie looked extremely embarrassed. His cheeks were a rosy pink and the rest of his body was as pale as a ghost. His breathing was obviously elevated, his chest rising and falling at an extremely quickly. To be fair, Ryan probably would’ve been embarrassed too if he were in the same position.
There was a knock on the door. Fuck. Could that night get any fucking worse?
“Boys, open up!” Ryan heard Mr. Beckett yell. Oh my fucking god. It could get fucking worse.
Ryan looked at Urie with malice as he pulled himself out of bed.
Ryan was the one to open the door. Mr. Beckett had an eyebrow raised at them. Unfortunately for Urie, there were other team members in the hallway that were snickering. Ryan actually felt bad for Urie, if anyone had heard what just happened, the whole team would know by morning.
“Is everything okay in here?” Mr. Beckett asked. “I’m doing a bed check,” he clarified.
Ryan might’ve been going crazy, but he could swear he heard Mr. Saporta laughing even though he couldn’t see him.
“Yeah,” Ryan answered a little too quickly. He turned his head to the right at Urie, who was staring at him with bulged and terrified eyes.
“Are you sure? I heard yelling,” Mr. Beckett said in an accusatory tone, eying the two up and down.
Urie looked at Ryan and Ryan looked at Urie. They both knew that they had to think of something, neither wanted to get kicked off of varsity for fighting.
“Oh, Ross here was just getting really emotional over the Canadiens game recap!” Urie laughed a little. “He accidentally smacked me while he was cheering.”
Why was that the story Urie had come up with? That was so stupid.
“Okay, sleep well,” Mr. Beckett said, the tone of his voice leading Ryan to believe that he wasn’t completely convinced by Urie’s story. “Set your alarms for 6, we’re meeting in the lobby for breakfast at 6:30 before the game.”
Both boys groaned.
“Hey, if you didn’t want early mornings, you shouldn’t have signed up for this. Also, don’t forget dress code for the games. Shirt and tie,” Mr. Beckett reminded them.
The door shut, and as soon as it did, both boys made a mad dash for the good bed. They were about equal in their running speeds, so unfortunately for Ryan, they ended up a tangled mess on the bed.
Ryan was not happy about being forced to spend the night with Urie on top of him. It was so uncomfortable, and Urie snored. Loudly. Ryan had come to accept that he wasn’t getting any sleep that night, so he texted Z until she fell asleep.
Ryan also decided that it might teach Urie a lesson if, every once in awhile in the middle of the night, Ryan pushed him out of bed.
It brought him great satisfaction to see Urie’s sleepy, pissed off face staring up at him. It didn’t bring him as much satisfaction when Urie would crawl back into bed and try to steal all of the covers. Ryan was just thankful that they didn’t have a repeat of what had happened earlier that night.