Entry tags:
P!ATD Fic: safe landing
***
Title: safe landing
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kat_lair
Fandom: Panic! At the Disco
Pairing: Ryan/Spencer
Tags: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers
Rating: G
Word count: 1,035
Summary: “Is it because I tried to kiss you last night?”
Author notes: Forpushkin666's prompt 'first kiss'. Also 500th work posted on AO3! Whoo! (more on this tomorrow!)
safe landing on AO3
“What did I do?”
Ryan has cornered him in the dressing room, Brendon and Jon slipping out of the door just as he’d slipped in, the traitors. Spencer had just… needed a minute. But Ryan has never been one to leave things alone.
Which is why they’re where they are, Spencer admits, headlining a tour, record deals in their back pockets, but right now…
“Nothing, Ry,” Spencer lies. He doesn’t quite look Ryan in the eye even when he walks right up to Spencer, hovering awkwardly over him where he’s sitting on the ratty green room sofa. “Just tired.”
“Well, that last part is true at least,” Ryan huffs. “But we’re tired all the time, and it’s never made you avoid me before.” He’s never been one to let Spencer run away from their problems either which usually means their fights, rare as they are, get resolved quickly, with maximum shouting but with minimum hurt, in the long run.
It’s just that Spencer is pretty sure talking about this is going to hurt more than letting it go would.
“Ry…” He sighs. Shakes his head. Starts to get up, intent on just walking out because…
But of course Ryan doesn’t let him do that either.
“Is it because I tried to kiss you last night?” It’s the question more than Ryan’s hand on his chest that pushes Spencer right back onto the sofa before he’s fully on his feet, that knocks him down like a right hook straight to his heart.
Yes, is the answer. But also, no.
Spencer says neither. He waits for Ryan to apologise, to say he didn’t mean it, watches the way his long fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt before balling into fists.
“I’m sorry if it upset you,” Ryan says, “But I’m not sorry I tried.” His voice is taut, like a guitar string worn thin and pulled too tight.
Spencer’s gaze snaps up.
“What?”
Ryan squares his shoulders, tall and tense and trembling, just a little, like he used to do before stepping onto the stage. “I’m sorry if what I did made you uncomfortable,” he rephrases like a teacher talking to a particularly dim toddler, “but I’m not sorry I tried, because it’s better to know for sure.”
Spencer is… Not following. And he certainly doesn’t feel like he knows anything for sure right now. “Know what?”
Ryan looks at him sharply, something brittle and more than a little angry in his eyes. “You’re going to make me say it?”
Spencer’s first instinct, as always, is to do whatever makes things easier for Ryan. But… “Yes. Because I have no idea what you think you know.”
Ryan stares at him for long, drawn out seconds. “Huh,” he says eventually, “you…” He pauses, crosses his arms, teetering somewhere between defensive and confrontational. “I’m not sorry I tried to kiss you,” he repeats again, patience audibly fraying, “because now I know you don’t want to kiss me back. That you don’t want me the way I…” He trails off, shrugs, a wry twist to his mouth.
“You were drunk,” Spencer blurts out. “I thought you were joking.” And yeah, okay, as soon as he says it out loud, he hears how dumb it is.
Ryan seems to think so too judging by the way he gathers himself, indignation in every angle of his body. “I’d had like two beers,” he says, voice climbing higher at every word. “I wasn’t even tipsy! And I would never—"
Spencer surges up but only far enough to grab hold of Ryan’s stupid fringe vest and haul him down.
Ryan pitches forward with a startled cry, his hands shooting up automatically to brace himself on Spencer’s shoulders. Spencer wraps a hand around the back of Ryan’s knee, and it only takes a strategic tug or two to get his lanky body to fold down onto Spencer’s lap, awkward and perfect.
“What the hell?” Ryan asks, sounding equal parts outraged and flustered. He’s scowling down at Spencer, face flushed and hair a mess after the gig. His shirt is unbuttoned far enough to give Spencer a complex, the notch of his collarbones glistening with sweat. He looks good enough to eat.
“I was wrong,” Spencer says, one hand still clutching at Ryan’s vest, the other sliding up to cup the back of his neck. The way Ryan’s breath hitches, his fingers convulsing on Spencer’s shoulders, digging in hard enough to hurt, is both grounding and deeply, viscerally, gratifying. “But so were you,” he finishes, watches the full meaning of the words land, Ryan’s eyes widening, the defensiveness in his expression crumbling little by little until nothing but vulnerability remains.
Spencer has loved him for so long and so hard that he didn’t think it was possible to feel more.
And yet.
It only takes a slight tightening of his grip, a merest hint of pressure against Ryan’s nape, and then he’s tipping down, down, sliding lower in Spencer lap, their faces brushing, mouths parted, breaths mingling.
The kiss starts shallow, tremulous, Spencer’s spurt of bravado failing him in the reality of having Ryan like this, finally, again, the shape of his lips familiar from years of looking, from the fleeting press of them the previous night. He sighs into Spencer’s mouth, slow and stuttering, and it tastes like relief, like coming home after a long, brutal day. It’s all that Spencer has ever wanted, to be someone Ryan feels safe with, the person he chooses to come home to.
“Oh,” Ryan breathes out once they separate, “Oh,” and it’s the same tone of voice he used when they’d gotten their recording contract, when they’d sold out their first show, the same deep satisfaction in it when a line in a song lands just right, when the kick of Spencer’s drums counts it in.
Spencer groans and rolls them until he can press Ryan into the sofa cushions, until he can press their lips together and swallow the melody Ryan hums at the back of his throat, raw and beautiful. This time, when they kiss, there is no more hesitation, Ryan’s mouth slotting over Spencer’s with the certainty of someone sure of their welcome.
***
Title: safe landing
Author:
kat_lair Fandom: Panic! At the Disco
Pairing: Ryan/Spencer
Tags: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers
Rating: G
Word count: 1,035
Summary: “Is it because I tried to kiss you last night?”
Author notes: For
pushkin666's prompt 'first kiss'. Also 500th work posted on AO3! Whoo! (more on this tomorrow!)safe landing on AO3
“What did I do?”
Ryan has cornered him in the dressing room, Brendon and Jon slipping out of the door just as he’d slipped in, the traitors. Spencer had just… needed a minute. But Ryan has never been one to leave things alone.
Which is why they’re where they are, Spencer admits, headlining a tour, record deals in their back pockets, but right now…
“Nothing, Ry,” Spencer lies. He doesn’t quite look Ryan in the eye even when he walks right up to Spencer, hovering awkwardly over him where he’s sitting on the ratty green room sofa. “Just tired.”
“Well, that last part is true at least,” Ryan huffs. “But we’re tired all the time, and it’s never made you avoid me before.” He’s never been one to let Spencer run away from their problems either which usually means their fights, rare as they are, get resolved quickly, with maximum shouting but with minimum hurt, in the long run.
It’s just that Spencer is pretty sure talking about this is going to hurt more than letting it go would.
“Ry…” He sighs. Shakes his head. Starts to get up, intent on just walking out because…
But of course Ryan doesn’t let him do that either.
“Is it because I tried to kiss you last night?” It’s the question more than Ryan’s hand on his chest that pushes Spencer right back onto the sofa before he’s fully on his feet, that knocks him down like a right hook straight to his heart.
Yes, is the answer. But also, no.
Spencer says neither. He waits for Ryan to apologise, to say he didn’t mean it, watches the way his long fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt before balling into fists.
“I’m sorry if it upset you,” Ryan says, “But I’m not sorry I tried.” His voice is taut, like a guitar string worn thin and pulled too tight.
Spencer’s gaze snaps up.
“What?”
Ryan squares his shoulders, tall and tense and trembling, just a little, like he used to do before stepping onto the stage. “I’m sorry if what I did made you uncomfortable,” he rephrases like a teacher talking to a particularly dim toddler, “but I’m not sorry I tried, because it’s better to know for sure.”
Spencer is… Not following. And he certainly doesn’t feel like he knows anything for sure right now. “Know what?”
Ryan looks at him sharply, something brittle and more than a little angry in his eyes. “You’re going to make me say it?”
Spencer’s first instinct, as always, is to do whatever makes things easier for Ryan. But… “Yes. Because I have no idea what you think you know.”
Ryan stares at him for long, drawn out seconds. “Huh,” he says eventually, “you…” He pauses, crosses his arms, teetering somewhere between defensive and confrontational. “I’m not sorry I tried to kiss you,” he repeats again, patience audibly fraying, “because now I know you don’t want to kiss me back. That you don’t want me the way I…” He trails off, shrugs, a wry twist to his mouth.
“You were drunk,” Spencer blurts out. “I thought you were joking.” And yeah, okay, as soon as he says it out loud, he hears how dumb it is.
Ryan seems to think so too judging by the way he gathers himself, indignation in every angle of his body. “I’d had like two beers,” he says, voice climbing higher at every word. “I wasn’t even tipsy! And I would never—"
Spencer surges up but only far enough to grab hold of Ryan’s stupid fringe vest and haul him down.
Ryan pitches forward with a startled cry, his hands shooting up automatically to brace himself on Spencer’s shoulders. Spencer wraps a hand around the back of Ryan’s knee, and it only takes a strategic tug or two to get his lanky body to fold down onto Spencer’s lap, awkward and perfect.
“What the hell?” Ryan asks, sounding equal parts outraged and flustered. He’s scowling down at Spencer, face flushed and hair a mess after the gig. His shirt is unbuttoned far enough to give Spencer a complex, the notch of his collarbones glistening with sweat. He looks good enough to eat.
“I was wrong,” Spencer says, one hand still clutching at Ryan’s vest, the other sliding up to cup the back of his neck. The way Ryan’s breath hitches, his fingers convulsing on Spencer’s shoulders, digging in hard enough to hurt, is both grounding and deeply, viscerally, gratifying. “But so were you,” he finishes, watches the full meaning of the words land, Ryan’s eyes widening, the defensiveness in his expression crumbling little by little until nothing but vulnerability remains.
Spencer has loved him for so long and so hard that he didn’t think it was possible to feel more.
And yet.
It only takes a slight tightening of his grip, a merest hint of pressure against Ryan’s nape, and then he’s tipping down, down, sliding lower in Spencer lap, their faces brushing, mouths parted, breaths mingling.
The kiss starts shallow, tremulous, Spencer’s spurt of bravado failing him in the reality of having Ryan like this, finally, again, the shape of his lips familiar from years of looking, from the fleeting press of them the previous night. He sighs into Spencer’s mouth, slow and stuttering, and it tastes like relief, like coming home after a long, brutal day. It’s all that Spencer has ever wanted, to be someone Ryan feels safe with, the person he chooses to come home to.
“Oh,” Ryan breathes out once they separate, “Oh,” and it’s the same tone of voice he used when they’d gotten their recording contract, when they’d sold out their first show, the same deep satisfaction in it when a line in a song lands just right, when the kick of Spencer’s drums counts it in.
Spencer groans and rolls them until he can press Ryan into the sofa cushions, until he can press their lips together and swallow the melody Ryan hums at the back of his throat, raw and beautiful. This time, when they kiss, there is no more hesitation, Ryan’s mouth slotting over Spencer’s with the certainty of someone sure of their welcome.
***
no subject
But, their communications skills remain terrible.
Spencer’s first instinct, as always, is to do whatever makes things easier for Ryan.
Gah, yes. So them.
Such a lovely kiss to end on, too.
no subject