
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/527717.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Bandom, Panic!_at_the_Disco
  Relationship:
      Ryan_Ross/Spencer_Smith/Brendon_Urie
  Character:
      Spencer_Smith, Ryan_Ross, Brendon_Urie, Brent_Wilson
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Urban_Fantasy, Curses, Dubious_Consent, Mating
      Cycles/In_Heat
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-10-03 Words: 4222
****** Case Study 395960 ******
by gala_apples
Summary
     In a world where Fairy Godmothers are seen as curse givers, Spencer's
     really not sure about having two Afflicted in his and Ryan’s band.
     Written for the prompt: some magical force makes Brendon go into
     heat. Spencer and Ryan help him out. (preferably Panic before they
     were signed).
“He’s from your school?”
Spencer doesn’t like the sound of it. To be perfectly honest, he’d rather Brent
had invited a couple of homeless guys. Sure they might have tried to steal the
guitar, but all that would have happened was Ryan beating them to death for
interfering with his capital d Dream. Someone from Palo Verde is so much more
horrifying. It’s fucking dangerous. Spencer knows more than anyone that Ryan
needs this to work, and Spencer’s willing to do almost anything to make that
happen. Being horribly murdered, whether it’s by poison, by Little People, or
by a dozen other methods shown in highly published case studies is not on the
list of things Spencer is willing to face. Especially considering if he gets
murdered they won’t have a drummer and Ryan won’t get out anyway.
“Yeah. Where else would I have met him?” Brent shrugs, like he doesn’t
understand what a big fucking deal it is. It’s probably different for him.
Actually going to Palo must be like being in the Klan, you’re too close to
realise how crazy it all is.
“So what’s his deal?”
“I dunno.”
“You didn’t ask?” Because seriously, what the fuck? It could be something like
‘you will slaughter anyone with name alliteration’! Of course, that wouldn’t
really affect Brent.
“Look. I know you two are normal, you don’t know etiquette, but that’s not
cool. You don’t just ask one of the Afflicted what their curse is.”
“You told us.” Ryan points out.
“Yeah, exactly dude, I told you. Because it wasn’t a hugely big deal, and it
sure as fuck doesn’t have anything to do you either of you. ‘You will pine for
your love from afar’. I don’t even have a girlfriend yet.”
“Or a boyfriend.”
“Stop trying to push your Fall Out Boy based bisexuality on everyone. Some
people are straight.”
“You don’t know unless you try both what you like better.”
Spencer rolls his eyes. Ryan and Brent have had the sexuality argument a
hundred times and it gets old fucking quickly. Not to mention it’s getting
totally off point. “If Brendon wants to try out in our band we’ll have fifty
percent Afflicted. That’s not good odds.”
“I told you, mine doesn’t have anything to do with the band. And Brendon’s
probably won’t either. Not that you can ask. I’ll kick your ass, I swear.”
Spencer has no doubt that he would try, the Afflicted can get pretty touchy
about things. That doesn’t mean he would win, Spencer’s pretty spry if he says
so himself. His gives Brent his best glare and hopes it speaks for him.
“Come on. He has to be better than Trevor, right?”
It’s against Spencer’s better judgement, but he nods his head. It’s just true
facts, even a alliterating serial killer would be better than Trevor. Ryan
follows suit. Brent seems to take the minute movements as confirmation, he says
he’ll bring Brendon by next practice. Spencer’s last hope is that Brendon will
be total shit, and they’ll have a good reason to refuse entry. If Brendon only
knows one chord, they won’t have to worry about how much their band might crash
and burn under the weight of two cursed members.
*
He doesn’t suck. He doesn’t suck a lot, he’s actually pretty damn good. Not to
mention that he claims to know a bunch of other instruments as well. Which in
itself sucks because even Ryan can’t find a reason to tell him he can’t join.
That means that they officially have two Afflicted guys in Panic!, and that
makes the possibility of shit going down so much higher. But Spencer’s going to
have to stop whining, because the other option is to have a three piece band,
and that’s not going to work. Brendon is the lesser of two evils.
Brendon’s putting away his guitar and when Spencer asks to him to stick around
for a bit and play xbox, because there’s no better way of fostering friendships
than killing zombies together, Brendon shakes his head. “The thing is, I need
to be home before six. Like, every night.”
“Family dinner?” Spencer knows that punishment, although his is usually around
seven. Brendon’s is probably worse though, according to Brent Brendon’s got a
bunch of brothers and sisters. At least Spencer’s only got two.
“No,”
“Weird early religious curfew?” Spencer grants Ryan a good guess. After all,
Brendon is Mormon, who knows what sort of shit they do. The Smiths are
basically agnostic, marginally Christian, but without church on Sunday, and
Christmas is all about Santa. For all he knows about it, Mormons might totally
be reverse vampires, not allowed outside after dark.
“No.”
“Oh, I know. It’s a Cinderella thing, isn’t it?”
“I told you,” are Brent’s warning words before he punches Spencer hard in the
arm.
“I wish it was. For my Affliction to be having those pro shoes that lead me to
marrying a handsome rich guy? Hell yeah I’d take that.”
So Spencer’s no closer to knowing what has Brendon going to his segregated
school, and also he might have a bruise. He bruises embarrassingly easily. But
he now knows that Brendon’s at least bi, and that he likes shoes. Both are
facts of interest to him.
*
Spencer has no idea how he’s been roped into doing this. He obviously doesn’t
go to the Afflicted school, there was no interference during his birth. He and
Brendon are both seniors, but he has no idea what their school work is. For all
he knows, one of the teachers has the curse of ‘everyone you touch will know’,
and they just spend their eight hours sitting around watching tv after getting
a hand on the shoulder their first day of freshman year.
The only thing he has to blame is the fact that he has his own car. He has a
habit of picking Brent up from school, as long as Brent doesn’t mind waiting
the twenty minutes it takes him to get out of his final class and over to Palo
Verde. Spencer’s not one of those idiots that thinks the Afflicted are somehow
contagious. He fluctuates between laughing and getting mad at the protesters
that are always standing across the street with their signs - just far enough
that they aren’t on school property to get arrested for trespassing. At least
that’s how he feels now, it’s possible he wasn’t so open minded before Brendon.
Brent was the exception to his shy-away rule, but Brendon pretty much
obliterated it. One cannot be afraid of Brendon Urie, it is physically and
mentally impossible. He should be the poster boy of Afflicted Hotline, really.
No one in the KA could resist his hyperactivity or glomping hugs. Spencer’d
love to see Morgan Norman take on Brendon Urie on Anderson Cooper 360. It would
be a bloodbath of rainbows and puppies.
As Brent gets in the car he asks if they can stop at Brendon’s. Apparently he
was absent and they’ve got an assload of homework. Spencer has no idea where he
lives, and for a moment tries to use it as an excuse. He’s always thought
dumping homework on someone sick is a shitty thing to do, Ryan would never have
done it to him when they were both in high school. Brent foils it utterly by
pulling out his phone and giving Spencer an address.
When he finally parks in front of Brendon’s house, a house that looks huge
before you consider how many siblings he has, Brent opens his backpack and
gives Spencer a handful of shit. Somehow he’s the one going in, while Brent
waits in the car. One of Brendon’s siblings answers the door, and tells him
Brendon’s upstairs when he tries to pass her the stack of papers. Spencer
shrugs and kicks off his shoes before going up the flight of stairs.
Brendon’s room is pretty barren, it’s just the bed and closet and tv on a
stand. But it’s also got clues to his Affliction if Spencer has the mind to put
it together. There’s no bathroom but there’s a sink in the corner. The top of
the closet has a shelf crammed with sheets and pillowcases. There’s an ornate
Harry Potter style chest beside the tv.
Brendon is under a pile of blankets. He looks half dead, and Spencer feels
guilty for coming baring not gifts but work. “Normally I wouldn’t bother you
about this, but Brent says you’ve got this test worth five percent, and since
it’s open book it’s basically free marks.”
From the fleece and flannel comes a grumble of acknowledgment. Brendon doesn’t
really move.
“I’m gonna go. Unless you want to play a video game or something?” It’s a
stupid question, there’s no console of any brand attached to the tv. Nor does
Brendon look alive enough to hold a controller in his hands. Still, Spencer
feels guilty leaving someone on their death bed. He never likes leaving Ryan
when he’s got a cold either.
“Bye Spence,” Brendon croaks from the blankets. Spencer puts the papers on the
ample floor space and leaves. Closing the door, he can’t help but notice it
locks from the outside. The walk down the hall to the stairs proves that’s
different from all the other doors. He still doesn’t know what all of it means.
Fairy Godmothers can say some fucked up shit.
*
All Spencer can think when it happens is we’re so stupid. One second Ryan is
bothering Brendon about eating his own chips instead of trying to take a
handful of everyone’s, and Brendon’s explaining that that’s what happens when
everyone gets a different flavour, and sharing is caring Ross. And the next
Brendon is on Ryan. There’s no word for it except leaping, Brendon turned
sideways on the couch and jumped onto Ryan. He’s got Ryan pinned to the floral
fabric, a hand on either shoulder.
For a moment Spencer can’t figure it out. They weren’t fighting, he was just
fucking around on his drums, Brendon and Ryan were taking a break from talking
about what the lyric should sound like. Then it dawns on him. He pulls out his
cellphone and checks. Sure enough, his cellphone says six, even though the
clock in the corner says five. Fucking daylight savings.
Whatever the hell the actual curse was eighteen years ago, Brendon’s now
trailing spit all over Ryan’s chin in attempt to kiss him, while Ryan’s
twisting his head back and forth to avoid it. Spencer’s sure he learned ‘always
save yourself’ in a school assembly about how to deal with the Afflicted, but
he can’t not help Ryan. Spencer wraps his arms around Brendon’s torso and pulls
backwards as hard as he can to pry Brendon off. He falls back onto the floor
and Brendon comes with him. Quicker than Spencer can react, Brendon’s rolling
over, twisting and jamming a leg between both of Spencer’s. He starts rutting
against his leg, hard as rock and Spencer hates himself a bit for what that
does to his body.
From what Spencer can see -when he wrenches his head to the side to get
Brendon’s mouth off his, Brendon goes straight for his neck- Ryan is just
staring at them. Spencer snaps. He didn’t save Ryan so Ryan could get off on
watching two of his friends. “Call his fucking parents!”
Ryan seems to snap out of it. He pulls out his cellphone and presses a single
button before jamming the phone to his head. It’s eternity with Brendon
writhing on him before Ryan shakes his head. “They’re not answering.”
“Call the fucking hotline then!” Spencer’s sure the rumours are just that.
They’re supposed to help the Afflicted, and it’s not like they’re affiliated
with the KA at all. And at this point, even if it’s not all rumours, it’s still
the only option Spencer has left to get Brendon off him.
Ryan looks at him. He doesn’t say anything, but his face is disapproving. Easy
for him, he only had Brendon trying to kiss him, not Brendon humping him like a
dog. “Fucking call!”
*
It’s weird that the Afflicted Hotline hospital isn’t any different than any
normal hospital Spencer’s been in. He keeps on expecting to see dwarves or old
crones, but it’s all just off-white painted walls and doctors in green and
nurses in cartoon splashed uniforms.
The ridiculous rules are the same too. Only two in a room at once, even though
it’s not like they’re going to be disturbing the person next to Brendon. The
girl is in the same state as Brendon, utterly unconscious. Ryan’s in the room
with Mrs. Urie, leaving Spencer to awkwardly stand with Kara outside the closed
door. She’s glaring at him, and the silence only makes it worse.
“Why’s he in a coma?”
“It’s pretty much the Hotline’s first reaction. It worked in the classic cases,
so now they do it unless there’s a specific reason not to. It’s standard
procedure. Brendon was probably out before they had the ambulance doors
locked.” Okay, the glare combined with the biting tone is worse than the glare
with silence, Spencer was wrong. He’s a big man, he can admit it.
“I don’t know if they did. They wouldn’t let us come with.”
“Wasn’t the entire point of your call to get him the fuck away from you?” It
sounds wrong for her to be swearing. Brendon doesn’t swear, even though he says
he doesn’t really believe any more. Spencer knows that all his siblings and
other relatives still follow the Mormon religion, so Spencer’s sure Kara’s not
supposed to be saying fuck.
“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know. We called you first, but you weren’t home, and we
panicked. You weren’t there, you don’t know.”
“Brendon is eighteen. You think I haven’t seen how he can be after six pm?”
Spencer thinks of the door locked from the outside before deciding that’s not
something he wants to think any more about.
“We didn’t know that’s what they were going to do. He’ll be okay though, right?
He’ll wake up soon.”
“He’s been okay in the past. But medically induced comas aren’t something a
body gets used to.” Kara is silent a moment before continuing. “You didn’t have
to do that. You just needed to get him off a few times.”
Spencer crosses his arms. He won’t feel guilty for this, he won’t. “That’s
rape, if he attacks us and forces us.”
“You don’t think he’s being forced too? Spencer, I know it was scary. I
entirely know how scary it can be. But he was twelve when it started, and it’s
every day, and he hates it. He can never leave the house after six. At least
not until he’s married and has someone to help him out in a bathroom or car if
he so needs. Before you decide he’s disgusting, think about how horrible it is
for him. And tell Ryan too.”
*
Spencer is the first person not family to talk to Brendon when he wakes up. Or
at least he thinks he is. Ryan and Brent haven’t visited yet anyway, they would
have told him. There’s no saying if a friend of Brendon’s from Palo has been.
Brendon seems like the type that would have a lot of friends in school. Not
like him. Spencer’s a bit bitchy for a large group of people to hang out with.
Not that it matters, he’s always had Ryan.
“Hey, Bren.” It’s late morning, a little after eleven. Spencer can’t help but
check his cell phone to make sure, even though the sun blasting through poorly
drawn blinds says he’s being ridiculous.
“You will find your passion when the sun sets.”
“What?”
“That’s what my fairy godmother said. My parents didn’t follow the rituals to
bar them from the delivery room, they thought their faith in God would keep the
magic away.”
“From what I’ve heard, it’s all crap anyway.” If there was a true way, it would
be in every prenatal book. It would have been blasted from CNN and all over the
internet.
“Yeah, well. Whatever it was, she showed up, and said my I’d find my passion
when the sun set. I was born March thirtieth, sunset was 6:01. I think my
parents were hoping I’d be this great astronomer or something. They gave me a
lot of books about moons and stars when I was a kid. And then puberty...”
“It wasn’t astronomy.”
“The first night it happened, I attacked one of my brothers. They called the
Hotline, down I went. First coma of my life, September fifteenth. After I woke
up they were going to keep me overnight, at six exactly I went for the person
in the bed beside me. They restrained me, and that’s when everyone realised it
would be a nightly event.”
“Shit.”
“Lucky me, huh.”
It’s possible he shouldn’t be asking. But shit, it’s a bit late for Brent to be
kicking his ass for prying now. “So, how does it work?”
“At six I get passionate,” Spencer can hear the revulsion in Brendon’s voice
and knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Kara is right, that he hates
everything about it, “And if I’m around anyone I space out, just go for them.
If I’m locked in my room, I jerk off. The first time I can’t even remember
doing. After the first time the need dies down a bit. Still horny, but I can at
least remember it. There’s no refractory period. It lasts until I fall asleep,
or until midnight.”
Spencer attempts humour, “So it is a Cinderella thing. Ryan was right!”
“As much as I love the Disney version of the first case study, not so much. So
yeah, that’s how I turn into a rapist every evening. If you’d just give my
guitar back to my parents that’d be great.”
“What?”
“Well, I still want it back. I guess you could have it if you sued me, because
it’s the only thing I have worth money, but I’m pretty sure there’s some law
that says you can’t discriminate against me.” Brendon rambling, and Spencer’s
known him long enough to know it’s covering fear.
“No, I meant what as in why would it need to leave the garage?”
“Because I want it back, I just said I’m not giving it up unless you sue me and
I-”
“Brendon! Focus. Are you staying here for a while?” He doesn’t know Afflicted
hospital protocol, but Spencer can understand wanting it back if he’s going to
be here a week. If Spencer was ever confined to the hospital, he’d want his
drums, even if there was no way to actually get them. Brendon’s lucky his
instrument is portable.
Brendon snorts. “I need to be out before six, or I need to be restrained in a
private room. Since we’re not exactly rich, my parents are going with option
one.”
“Then why can’t it stay in the garage until next practice?”
“Uh, because I won’t be going to next practice, because I’m not in the band any
more?”
Spencer gives his best unimpressed look. “When did you decide that?”
“You’re kidding, right? I attacked you and Ryan. And it’s not like we could
play a gig anyway. It’s a great dream, but when you wake up in the hospital
it’s time to face reality, right?”
“Warped plays before six.” At least, he thinks it does.
“In case you don’t remember, I attacked you and Ryan. He’s never going to want
to see me again. He’s got control issues, I sing Camisado, I know Mr. Ross.
He’s not going to let me be another person that hurts him.”
“Ryan wants to get the fuck out. Your voice is going to make that happen.
That’ll matter more.” So it’s not as kind as saying that Ryan won’t care about
the forced make out. Brendon will know he’s lying, it can’t be kind if it’s
recognised as bullshit. At least Ryan using Brendon as a meal ticket is
believable.
“I’ll come to practice after he contacts me.” Brendon’s voice is devastated but
hard, Spencer doesn’t bother to try arguing more. He needs to save the strength
for talking to Ryan.
*
It’s Kara that opens the door, which makes Spencer both relieved and more
agitated. It’s better than Mr or Mrs Urie answering the doorbell, but she
doesn’t exactly like him. Instead of hello she greets them with “It’s almost
six.”
“We know.”
She eyes them for a minute. It’s as bad as a cop staring at him, trying to
decide if he was the one that had graffitied the neighbourhood. (For the
record, he wasn’t. Spencer doesn’t have anything against graffiti, he likes the
colour it adds to the cookie cutter houses. He just doesn’t have any art
skills.) In hindsight Spencer remembers Kara is Mormon too, and among other
things they’re not very happy about same sex relations. Just as he’s about to
wince and find something to say she answers. “Go as quick as you can. You don’t
want my parents to see you. I’ll lock it for him, so they don’t stick their
heads in. If you need out, call the house.”
Spencer darts to the stairs, and takes them almost at a run. Ryan follows right
behind him. He still remembers where Brendon’s room is, and the doorknob turns
when he tries it.
“Guys? It’s almost six, why are you here?”
Ryan shrugs. “We wanted to be.” Spencer’s not a girl, but the way Brendon’s
face lights up at Ryan’s words is almost beautiful.
“I’m not sure if you’ve paid attention, but Ryan and Brent argue about Ryan
wanting an all bi band at least once a week. Plus, it’s not rape if you
consent, right?” So maybe he’s a douchebag for joking about it. Probably he is.
It’s enough to make Brendon stand and kiss him, so he’ll apologise later.
Spencer can tell the moment it turns six, without looking at his cell.
Brendon’s kiss changes, it goes from nervous and excited to demanding and
ravenous. Brendon’s hands relocate to his ass, dragging him close enough press
hard against his leg. He slides roughly against Spencer until Ryan traps him on
the other side, wriggling his hand between them. Spencer can feel Ryan’s
knuckles as he works Brendon outside of his jeans. It’s not long until
Brendon’s spasming against him. When he comes he bites down, Spencer hisses as
his tongue gets caught between Brendon’s teeth.
Brendon backs off, crosses his arms and tucks his hands into his armpits. He’s
still hard, but Spencer recalls their talk and knew to expect that. “I’m going
to assume we just did something, because the haze is gone. I’m sure it was
awesome, and I’m sure I’d love to do it again, but just for the record, why?”
“If we get you off a few times before you go on stage, we’re betting you can
still perform. We won’t let you rush the crowd. I’ll even let you rub against
me on stage. Stage gay is very popular with certain audiences.”
Frankly, Spencer thinks Ryan’s counting his chickens a bit. First they need to
get enough songs to play a set. But it’s a good future plan, enough so that he
nods his agreement, before adding “Besides, it’s not like it’s a hardship. You
got off but you don’t remember it, me and Ryan are still hard. Can we do
something?”
“One of you want to fuck me?” Spencer looks at Ryan, who stares back at him.
Their wordless rock paper scissors is interrupted by Brendon adding “Or you
both could. I’m good for the next six hours.”
It’s pretty much a wet dream come true. Spencer grins and lets Ryan take
Brendon by the hand and pull him to his bed. He wants to watch.
“Spencer, can you get lube from the trunk?” Brendon asks from under Ryan, who’s
currently stripping him. It seems like the sort of thing that would have been
easier while they were both still standing, but Spencer’s not going to knock
Ryan’s technique.
“Jesus Christ,” he hisses. The trunk is a toy chest. A full toy chest.
“Once you turn about fourteen, jerking off four or five times a night starts to
get boring,” Brendon explains over the sound of his kicked off jeans hitting
the floor.
Spencer picks a bottle of cherry lube and gives it to Ryan. He, at least, is
smart enough to pull off his pants before sitting on the floor beside Brendon’s
bed. There is a little room at the bottom of the twin mattress, but it would be
a poor angle. Spencer wants to be able to see everything, he wants to know what
touches make Brendon’s face contort so he can do them straight off the hop when
it’s his turn. And by the time he’s done, it’ll be Ryan’s turn again, and then
his turn again. For the rest of his life, or at least until Panic! gets famous
and Brendon finds groupies, his existence is going to be about sex and rock and
roll. (Not drugs, Ryan would kill him.) He’ll have to buy Brent a cake or
something in thanks.
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