harborshore (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
harborshore) wrote2010-04-21 09:30 pm
harborshore) wrote2010-04-21 09:30 pm
Entry tags:
- bandslash,
- fic,
- patd,
- ryan/spencer,
- tyv
Fic Post: Know Every Scene By Heart
Title: Know Every Scene By Heart
Pairings: girl!Spencer/Ryan
Word Count; 2000
Warnings: None
Summary: The lack of easy access to a somewhat cryptic best friend is one of the shittiest things about this band split business.
A/N: This is a sequel to Not That Hard To Find. It's not strictly necessary to read that first, but it might be helpful. Fics in this verse are always for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
blindmouse, even when I make her beta them (see below).
This was looked over byblindmouse and kickingrad, a duo of much awesomeness. If there are any remaining problems, it is most certainly not their fault. The title belongs to Bob Dylan, as always, and just like last time, it's from "If You See Her, Say Hello."
Ryan is being weird. Spencer sometimes feels like she can chronicle half of her life around Ryan's various weird phases, but now he's being particularly quiet and weird and she doesn't like it. Especially because she's actually on the other side of the world and can't poke him until he yields and tells her what the fuck is up. The lack of easy access to a somewhat cryptic best friend is one of the shittiest things about this band split business.
She clicks the browser window shut on Ryan's twitter and sighs.
On the other side of the hotel room, Brendon looks up. "What's with the sad, Spencer Smith? No frowning, I told you they don't allow frowning in Australia."
"I'm not sad," she says automatically. "I'm just—" she flaps her hand in what she thinks Brendon will probably interpret as 'meh' and move on.
Instead, he says, "I told you not to read Ryan's twitter."
She'd deny it, but she's too fucking tired. "Stop being psychic," she says, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.
"He always gets cryptic and then you get mopey," Brendon says. "Or you're sad and then he comes to fix you, like a knight with scarves or fancy shoes or something."
"No, really, stop." And then she feels a weight on her knees and opens her eyes to find Brendon on her lap.
"Here's the thing," he says, half-seriously, half daring her to crack up, "I get that you have the epic friendship of eight million years behind you, give or take a few months when, I don't know, some shit happened, but you really suck at actually talking to each other."
Spencer blinks at Brendon. "We are not," she says. "We do too talk."
"'We do too talk,'" Brendon mimics, and shakes his head. "What about in Maryland, when you refused to tell Ryan you hated his idea for the drum track because, like, you actually would need eight hands to play it, or on tour, when it took him three weeks to ask you why you were going off with Tom every few days, or--"
Spencer covers his mouth with her hand and glares. Tries to. She's pretty tired. "So sometimes we suck, fine. I just, you know."
"You want to know why he's posting quotes that sound nothing like the lyrics for their new songs, I feel you. Well, no, because I'm in enough trouble with my own words at this point and don't really want to get into Ryan's head again, but seriously, Spencer, this is what he does. Let's enjoy the fuck out of Australia and worry about Ross when we get home, yeah?"
"Fine," she says. Brendon grins at her. "Now get off of me, freak," she adds, and pushes him off her lap. He collapses onto the floor with a great deal of flailing, most of it faked (stupid tiny flexible boys), and she can't help but giggle—how does he always do that to her?—and then she helps him up, ostentatiously dusting him off.
It all dissolves into tickling and an all-out wrestling match on the floor, of course.
--
Australia is pretty awesome; Spencer definitely enjoys herself. It's possible it has something to do with how Brendon gets a hold of both her computer and her phone and manages to completely lock her out of Twitter and half a dozen other sites.
Just possible, mind you.
She does forgive him eventually. After throwing three shoes, a book, and a drumstick at him and calling him an interfering little shit, that is.
Coming home basically sucks, compared to the easiness of the trip. They're doing pre-album promotion and keep having to answer the same damned questions about the split; fuck, sometimes she wishes she and Brendon were the ones striking out on their own, because surely it'd be worth touring in vans if they didn't simultaneously have to field questions about where Panic-without-their-former-songwriter are going with their new sound, and fend off implications that they can't do it.
Also, they're still asking her what it's like to tour with boys. Still. And whether the split was caused by sexual tension in the band.
At least when she gets that question, Brendon usually jumps in and says something about how his eternal love for Jon was just getting too much for the songwriting process to contain, okay? They both know it'd be funnier if he said Ryan, but that's a little close to the bone given that, like, Spencer might at one point have been in love with Ryan. Only a little bit. And very quietly, obviously. And not anymore. But she definitely doesn't want to talk to journalists about that, or even hint at it.
So she grins and digs her elbow into Brendon's side and adds her own two cents about the epic saga: "Well, it was really because they're both so short, you see. Practically meant to be."
--
Two weeks after they come home, Ryan does an interview. Spencer reads it and then methodically shreds the page. Brendon seems surprised.
"I thought you'd—he got that question about women in the music business?"
"It was my answer," she says absentmindedly, still staring at the page. "I said that to Ryan once, when we were, you know, and he rolled his eyes and didn't even—whatever."
"At least he gets it now," Brendon offers.
Spencer swallows and doesn't say she wishes he would have gotten it when they were still in a band together instead of now when it sounds like he's talking about Z Berg and Tennessee Thomas and the way people dismiss them and their talent and skill as nothing but pretty girls with fathers in the industry. "What about me," she wants to ask him, "what about what I've done, how I've managed in this fucking scene? Why didn't you ever talk to journalists about the shit I had to go through?"
She doesn't say any of that but she's pretty sure some of it shows up in her face, because Brendon goes quiet and hugs her, and she knows she's going to have to remind him again later that she doesn't secretly want to be in Ryan's new band, that she's making the music she wants to make.
For now, though, she's going to lean into the hug and swallow some more, closing her eyes until she thinks she can open them without being an idiot and crying on Brendon's shoulder.
--
Ryan calls her a couple of times, but Spencer doesn't pick up. To be fair, they're really busy with the album, which is finally out, and they're getting ready to tour again, and—yeah, they're just really busy.
Early Tuesday morning when she is about to leave to meet Brendon, she opens her door and finds Ryan on her doorstep, long legs stretched out and face turned into the sun.
"What are you doing here?" is the only thing she can think of to say.
He tilts his head at her and says, "Hi Ryan, nice to see you. How are you, Ryan?"
"Shut up," she says. Wittily.
"Why aren't you taking my calls, Spence?"
She shakes her head. "We've been busy, you didn't need to come all the way here and—you didn't need to come all the way over here."
He bites his lip. "I wanted to," he says. "Can we, like, have breakfast, or something?"
"I'm late to meet Brendon," she says. She hates how his face falls at that, but manages to bite down on the way she wants to offer to call Brendon and tell him she'll have breakfast on her own. But maybe she doesn't have to. "You can come, I guess," she says. "We're eating first, before the MTV thing."
He smiles, just a little bit, and she smiles back.
--
Breakfast isn't quite as awkward as she thought it would be, even if she stops listening to a round of I-can-do-anything-you-can-do about halfway through. Instead she thinks about how her internal references now apparently include songs from Annie Get Your Gun, and how that must automatically give Brendon Urie a million points in the game of making people around you pick up your verbal, uh, musical tics. Whatever.
She realizes they're both looking at her. "What?"
"Nothing," Brendon says, glancing at Ryan.
"Australia made you freckle again," he says, and Spencer rolls her eyes.
"I've always had freckles," she says, and heads off the inevitable 'But not like these' before someone starts poking at her face. She hates that.
Ryan nods. "Apparently I should tell you I missed you too."
Spencer ignores the way she wants to smile at that. "Who says I missed you?"
Ryan hikes his thumb at Brendon, who has the grace to look a little sheepish.
"You did! You absolutely did, Spencer Smith."
"Fine," she says. "Apparently it was mutual, so, what?"
There's something she doesn't quite recognize in Ryan's eyes. Brendon looks between them both and mutters something, flicks a straw at Ryan and pokes Spencer in the ear. "I'm heading over to MTV," he announces. "Ross can give you a ride, but I warn you, Ryan Ross of the not-as-cryptic-as-he-thinks-Tweets, that she is my bandmate and if you make her sad or angry I'll tell the fans you left us because you thought you were too good for teenage fangirls."
Ryan looks momentarily terrified, as well he should be (their fans are formidable, and Spencer kind of likes it).
This seems to satisfy Brendon, who leaves after he's hugged Spencer's head and murmured, "Just remember you're my bandmate, yeah?" and slides out of reach before Spencer can hit him and tell him not to be an idiot about that shit. Again.
They stare at each other for a bit over the green diner table, and Spencer doesn't realize she's started tapping the rhythm to their new single until Ryan reaches out and stills her hand.
She snorts. "Still hate that, huh?"
"I never hated it," he says. "I just, like, can't stop looking at your hands when you do it, and it gets obnoxious."
"You learn new things every day, huh. Also, you're easy."
He looks sheepish. "It's hypnotic! Kind of."
She smiles beatifically. "If you're easy."
"Repeating the same phrases doesn't constitute an actual argument, Spencer, what the fuck," but he's laughing, and they finish the breakfast like that, laughing at each other and alternating insults with chewing.
--
In the car, they don't say anything until Ryan takes a wrong turn and stops in a parking lot.
"You were supposed to go left," Spencer says, and knows she's going to be late now. She wouldn't give a fuck since they're scheduled to be there all day, except Brendon still hates doing solo interviews.
"I know," Ryan says, "I know where the offices are," and his jaw is doing that clenching thing that means he's trying to say something difficult.
"What, Ryan?" She's honestly really tired of this, all of this, always needing to—she doesn't want to have to think this much about people, she's so sick of it.
"Just don't say anything for a minute," he says, and she shrugs. He pauses, and then he continues, voice going a little soft. "I missed you, yeah? When you were gone? And I still miss you, only it's not missing the band, even when I do—it's you, Spencer, I keep coming back to it."
She swallows. "I'd ask what the hell you were saying except, you know."
He smiles, eyelashes sweeping low, and oh, Spencer wants to kiss him, she's wanted to kiss him for so long. He meets her eyes and he must be able to read what's in them, because his smile gets wider and fuck, he's going to be so unbearably smug if she doesn't do anything, so she does. She leans in and ignores the fact that the steering wheel is digging into her arm, and she kisses Ryan, who slides his fingers into her hair and makes a noise into her mouth like he never wants to stop.
Pairings: girl!Spencer/Ryan
Word Count; 2000
Warnings: None
Summary: The lack of easy access to a somewhat cryptic best friend is one of the shittiest things about this band split business.
A/N: This is a sequel to Not That Hard To Find. It's not strictly necessary to read that first, but it might be helpful. Fics in this verse are always for
blindmouse, even when I make her beta them (see below). This was looked over by
blindmouse and kickingrad, a duo of much awesomeness. If there are any remaining problems, it is most certainly not their fault. The title belongs to Bob Dylan, as always, and just like last time, it's from "If You See Her, Say Hello."Ryan is being weird. Spencer sometimes feels like she can chronicle half of her life around Ryan's various weird phases, but now he's being particularly quiet and weird and she doesn't like it. Especially because she's actually on the other side of the world and can't poke him until he yields and tells her what the fuck is up. The lack of easy access to a somewhat cryptic best friend is one of the shittiest things about this band split business.
She clicks the browser window shut on Ryan's twitter and sighs.
On the other side of the hotel room, Brendon looks up. "What's with the sad, Spencer Smith? No frowning, I told you they don't allow frowning in Australia."
"I'm not sad," she says automatically. "I'm just—" she flaps her hand in what she thinks Brendon will probably interpret as 'meh' and move on.
Instead, he says, "I told you not to read Ryan's twitter."
She'd deny it, but she's too fucking tired. "Stop being psychic," she says, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.
"He always gets cryptic and then you get mopey," Brendon says. "Or you're sad and then he comes to fix you, like a knight with scarves or fancy shoes or something."
"No, really, stop." And then she feels a weight on her knees and opens her eyes to find Brendon on her lap.
"Here's the thing," he says, half-seriously, half daring her to crack up, "I get that you have the epic friendship of eight million years behind you, give or take a few months when, I don't know, some shit happened, but you really suck at actually talking to each other."
Spencer blinks at Brendon. "We are not," she says. "We do too talk."
"'We do too talk,'" Brendon mimics, and shakes his head. "What about in Maryland, when you refused to tell Ryan you hated his idea for the drum track because, like, you actually would need eight hands to play it, or on tour, when it took him three weeks to ask you why you were going off with Tom every few days, or--"
Spencer covers his mouth with her hand and glares. Tries to. She's pretty tired. "So sometimes we suck, fine. I just, you know."
"You want to know why he's posting quotes that sound nothing like the lyrics for their new songs, I feel you. Well, no, because I'm in enough trouble with my own words at this point and don't really want to get into Ryan's head again, but seriously, Spencer, this is what he does. Let's enjoy the fuck out of Australia and worry about Ross when we get home, yeah?"
"Fine," she says. Brendon grins at her. "Now get off of me, freak," she adds, and pushes him off her lap. He collapses onto the floor with a great deal of flailing, most of it faked (stupid tiny flexible boys), and she can't help but giggle—how does he always do that to her?—and then she helps him up, ostentatiously dusting him off.
It all dissolves into tickling and an all-out wrestling match on the floor, of course.
--
Australia is pretty awesome; Spencer definitely enjoys herself. It's possible it has something to do with how Brendon gets a hold of both her computer and her phone and manages to completely lock her out of Twitter and half a dozen other sites.
Just possible, mind you.
She does forgive him eventually. After throwing three shoes, a book, and a drumstick at him and calling him an interfering little shit, that is.
Coming home basically sucks, compared to the easiness of the trip. They're doing pre-album promotion and keep having to answer the same damned questions about the split; fuck, sometimes she wishes she and Brendon were the ones striking out on their own, because surely it'd be worth touring in vans if they didn't simultaneously have to field questions about where Panic-without-their-former-songwriter are going with their new sound, and fend off implications that they can't do it.
Also, they're still asking her what it's like to tour with boys. Still. And whether the split was caused by sexual tension in the band.
At least when she gets that question, Brendon usually jumps in and says something about how his eternal love for Jon was just getting too much for the songwriting process to contain, okay? They both know it'd be funnier if he said Ryan, but that's a little close to the bone given that, like, Spencer might at one point have been in love with Ryan. Only a little bit. And very quietly, obviously. And not anymore. But she definitely doesn't want to talk to journalists about that, or even hint at it.
So she grins and digs her elbow into Brendon's side and adds her own two cents about the epic saga: "Well, it was really because they're both so short, you see. Practically meant to be."
--
Two weeks after they come home, Ryan does an interview. Spencer reads it and then methodically shreds the page. Brendon seems surprised.
"I thought you'd—he got that question about women in the music business?"
"It was my answer," she says absentmindedly, still staring at the page. "I said that to Ryan once, when we were, you know, and he rolled his eyes and didn't even—whatever."
"At least he gets it now," Brendon offers.
Spencer swallows and doesn't say she wishes he would have gotten it when they were still in a band together instead of now when it sounds like he's talking about Z Berg and Tennessee Thomas and the way people dismiss them and their talent and skill as nothing but pretty girls with fathers in the industry. "What about me," she wants to ask him, "what about what I've done, how I've managed in this fucking scene? Why didn't you ever talk to journalists about the shit I had to go through?"
She doesn't say any of that but she's pretty sure some of it shows up in her face, because Brendon goes quiet and hugs her, and she knows she's going to have to remind him again later that she doesn't secretly want to be in Ryan's new band, that she's making the music she wants to make.
For now, though, she's going to lean into the hug and swallow some more, closing her eyes until she thinks she can open them without being an idiot and crying on Brendon's shoulder.
--
Ryan calls her a couple of times, but Spencer doesn't pick up. To be fair, they're really busy with the album, which is finally out, and they're getting ready to tour again, and—yeah, they're just really busy.
Early Tuesday morning when she is about to leave to meet Brendon, she opens her door and finds Ryan on her doorstep, long legs stretched out and face turned into the sun.
"What are you doing here?" is the only thing she can think of to say.
He tilts his head at her and says, "Hi Ryan, nice to see you. How are you, Ryan?"
"Shut up," she says. Wittily.
"Why aren't you taking my calls, Spence?"
She shakes her head. "We've been busy, you didn't need to come all the way here and—you didn't need to come all the way over here."
He bites his lip. "I wanted to," he says. "Can we, like, have breakfast, or something?"
"I'm late to meet Brendon," she says. She hates how his face falls at that, but manages to bite down on the way she wants to offer to call Brendon and tell him she'll have breakfast on her own. But maybe she doesn't have to. "You can come, I guess," she says. "We're eating first, before the MTV thing."
He smiles, just a little bit, and she smiles back.
--
Breakfast isn't quite as awkward as she thought it would be, even if she stops listening to a round of I-can-do-anything-you-can-do about halfway through. Instead she thinks about how her internal references now apparently include songs from Annie Get Your Gun, and how that must automatically give Brendon Urie a million points in the game of making people around you pick up your verbal, uh, musical tics. Whatever.
She realizes they're both looking at her. "What?"
"Nothing," Brendon says, glancing at Ryan.
"Australia made you freckle again," he says, and Spencer rolls her eyes.
"I've always had freckles," she says, and heads off the inevitable 'But not like these' before someone starts poking at her face. She hates that.
Ryan nods. "Apparently I should tell you I missed you too."
Spencer ignores the way she wants to smile at that. "Who says I missed you?"
Ryan hikes his thumb at Brendon, who has the grace to look a little sheepish.
"You did! You absolutely did, Spencer Smith."
"Fine," she says. "Apparently it was mutual, so, what?"
There's something she doesn't quite recognize in Ryan's eyes. Brendon looks between them both and mutters something, flicks a straw at Ryan and pokes Spencer in the ear. "I'm heading over to MTV," he announces. "Ross can give you a ride, but I warn you, Ryan Ross of the not-as-cryptic-as-he-thinks-Tweets, that she is my bandmate and if you make her sad or angry I'll tell the fans you left us because you thought you were too good for teenage fangirls."
Ryan looks momentarily terrified, as well he should be (their fans are formidable, and Spencer kind of likes it).
This seems to satisfy Brendon, who leaves after he's hugged Spencer's head and murmured, "Just remember you're my bandmate, yeah?" and slides out of reach before Spencer can hit him and tell him not to be an idiot about that shit. Again.
They stare at each other for a bit over the green diner table, and Spencer doesn't realize she's started tapping the rhythm to their new single until Ryan reaches out and stills her hand.
She snorts. "Still hate that, huh?"
"I never hated it," he says. "I just, like, can't stop looking at your hands when you do it, and it gets obnoxious."
"You learn new things every day, huh. Also, you're easy."
He looks sheepish. "It's hypnotic! Kind of."
She smiles beatifically. "If you're easy."
"Repeating the same phrases doesn't constitute an actual argument, Spencer, what the fuck," but he's laughing, and they finish the breakfast like that, laughing at each other and alternating insults with chewing.
--
In the car, they don't say anything until Ryan takes a wrong turn and stops in a parking lot.
"You were supposed to go left," Spencer says, and knows she's going to be late now. She wouldn't give a fuck since they're scheduled to be there all day, except Brendon still hates doing solo interviews.
"I know," Ryan says, "I know where the offices are," and his jaw is doing that clenching thing that means he's trying to say something difficult.
"What, Ryan?" She's honestly really tired of this, all of this, always needing to—she doesn't want to have to think this much about people, she's so sick of it.
"Just don't say anything for a minute," he says, and she shrugs. He pauses, and then he continues, voice going a little soft. "I missed you, yeah? When you were gone? And I still miss you, only it's not missing the band, even when I do—it's you, Spencer, I keep coming back to it."
She swallows. "I'd ask what the hell you were saying except, you know."
He smiles, eyelashes sweeping low, and oh, Spencer wants to kiss him, she's wanted to kiss him for so long. He meets her eyes and he must be able to read what's in them, because his smile gets wider and fuck, he's going to be so unbearably smug if she doesn't do anything, so she does. She leans in and ignores the fact that the steering wheel is digging into her arm, and she kisses Ryan, who slides his fingers into her hair and makes a noise into her mouth like he never wants to stop.
no subject
I already told you, but I love this paragraph. I love it so damn much.
♥
no subject
no subject
mmm, this made me smile at the end. I really like the dynamic here a lot and um, I don't know what else to say except that I really liked it & am glad that you took a break from the crazy stress in your life to make me smile :)
no subject
I'm glad it made you smile, I sort of tried to write it to get to that point where it could, because post-split stories are hard enough as it is, right?
no subject
yes, I do really really know *stares fondly at diploma on wall* SOON ALL THIS WILL BE YOURS! THINK OF THE GLORIOUS PAPER!
post-split stories are hard, but only if you pay attention to canon *whistles innocently* my post-split brendon/ryan was almost fluff! :D
no subject
Ha, no kidding. I do some fine ignoring of canon in this one, don't you think? And yours was adorable, really. :D
no subject
Yeah, that's all I've got after reading this. So gooooood :D :D
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
She doesn't say any of that but she's pretty sure some of it shows up in her face, because Brendon goes quiet and hugs her, and she knows she's going to have to remind him again later that she doesn't secretly want to be in Ryan's new band, that she's making the music she wants to make.
While the fic is about Spencer dealing with the split's affect on her long relationship with Ryan, I love that you acknowledge what the experience must be like for Brendon -- and that Spencer acknowledges this too, it really shows us just how much Spencer cares for Brendon and for their decision to split and be their own band. So great!
The kiss at the end is fantastic too, that whole last paragraph -- I could visualize everything about Ryan's face so well, and I absolutely loved how Spencer could tell he was about to look smug (so very Ryan) and how she had to stop it in its tracks. Just so, so real and satisfying! :D
no subject
Well, that and trying to get to a Spencer-and-Ryan dynamic that was sort of real-feeling. So I'm glad you liked the end--it was my favorite part to write.
no subject
"I never hated it," he says. "I just, like, can't stop looking at your hands when you do it, and it gets obnoxious."
"You learn new things every day, huh. Also, you're easy."
He looks sheepish. "It's hypnotic! Kind of."
She smiles beatifically. "If you're easy."
Awesome way to finish this scene \o/
no subject
Hee, I thought: "Self, you like writing dialogue. Why is there not more dialogue in this?" And I made myself giggle while writing that, so.
no subject
really gorgeous!
no subject
no subject
no subject
PS. We should come up with a way for me to write a story entirely consisting of endings. Somehow.
no subject
I am particularly fond of Brendon tackling Spencer and ticklefights. Brendon reminds her whose band she's in, not to be mean but because he's nervous! No stealing-away of Spencers allowed!
no subject
Of course Brendon would be nervous, he's waited a while for the two of them to acknowledge this crap and he's very concerned that once they do, Ryan and Spencer will ride off into the sunset together. But when he gets that far he usually acknowledges that Ryan would fall off the horse, and then he feels better.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
I'm so glad you liked this--I really am very fond of this AU setting, and I was very nervous about getting girl!Spencer right (writing Ryan was a lot easier somehow, weirdly enough).
no subject
no subject
As far as other ficlets in this verse, we'll see--I will for sure write more girl!Spencer, but I'm not sure what else to write in this universe besides the two stories I've written. Maybe Brendon's story. Time will tell! :D
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject