The One Where Ryan Ross Just Has No Idea

Dinner

Their anniversary dinner is perfect. A lush crimson cloth hanging loosely over the round table Ryan had dragged in from outside, a pair of plates set across from each other, shiny silver cutlery laying in a neat row beside it, with a thick, gold candle as the centre piece, cupped by a glass candle holder.

It's the last thing Brendon's expecting from Ryan Ross, his absent-minded boyfriend, after dragging himself home from the salon.

The older man appears at the kitchen doorway just then, dressed in a fancy suit, and wiping his hands on a dishcloth. How classy. "Hey, babe." The infamous half-smile graces his thin, red lips, with a hint of secrecy behind it that it brings suspicion out of Brendon.

"What is this, Ross?" Brendon's used to being the romantic one out of the two, although Ryan likes to surprise him with material things fairly often.

"What does it look like?"

"It looks like you're playing a practical joke on me." - And that's how the bickering starts.

----

"Ryan, that better not be pizza."

Ryan stops in his tracks, flicks his head over his shoulder and says, "no?" as innocently as he can muster. "It's a sophisticated Italian dish."

"You're totally lying."

"Shut the fuck up, I'm trying to be a good boyfriend here."

"Oh yeah, right, sorry. Love you."

"Love you too."

Ryan finally turns around, revealing their dinner set on a faux silver platter he picked up at Walmart roughly a year ago because it was on sale, and Ryan's naturally attracted to bargains. Who isn't?

Brendon's palm connects with his face, an expectant groan slipping from his lips - he can't be disappointed, he knows his significant other quite well after spending four years arguing with him, /affectionately/ - as he spreads his middle and forefinger apart to peer at his boyfriend through the gap. "I take that back. I genuinely hate you. Why the fuck did you set all this cutlery up if we're having fucking pizza?"

"I thought it looked nice." The older man sets their meal down on the table, serving his boyfriend a slice, and staring at him dumbly. "Are you really complaining about pizza? I could've home made the food but I'd probably burn it like I did last time."

"True, true, it could be worse."

"Yeah, so shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you."

Brendon waggles his eyebrows. "Kinky," is all he comments, which causes Ryan to surge forward and noisily kiss his lips. "Seriously, though," he's cut off again by Ryan's mouth. "Okay, okay, I got it."

----

Some time after the pizza has settled, Ryan decides that it's time to get to the point; get to doing what he set the night up like this for. He gets down carefully on one knee beside Brendon's chair, brings out a jewellery box, opening the lid with caution. "So, I didn't want this to be all gay and shit, but will you marry me?" He gets it out so fast that Brendon barely has time to process his words.

The younger rolls his eyes, retorts, "as if the man on man action wasn't en-" but then he pauses, eyes wide, his gaze falling to Ryan. "What?"

"Don't make me say it again."

Brendon sniggers, "what did you say, Ry?"

"You heard me, asshole."

"I did not."

"Yes you fucking did."

"No I didn't!"

"Yes you- fuck, whatever, I'll say it again, okay? Listen up here, Urie: will you marry me?"

Brendon giggles at him, fondly ruffling Ryan's hair. "Why would I want to do that?" However, Ryan's expression remains serious and honest, and Brendon does a double take. "You're - you're actually serious?"

"Yes."

Brendon glances down at the box, and, and, "is that a cock ring!?"

"Yes. Like I said, I didn't want to be all gay and stuff by getting you a proper ring," only Ryan's face is beet root red, but more out of anger than anything else, as he thought Brendon of all people would know when Ryan's being genuine or not. He's the first one who managed to get under Ryan's skin, pluck his memories and thoughts from deep inside the older man's head.

"I- I..."

"Yes or no, Brendon, I'm not going to perch here all night."

Another minute of deathly silence ensues, an intense staring contest taking place between the two men. "You're... Deadly serious?" Brendon asks slowly, and Ryan doesn't hesitate to nod his head. "Fuck, well, of /course/, you fucking idiot, but why did you propose with a cock ring?"

"So we could use it tonight? I don't know." Ryan tears it out of the box, picking up Brendon's left hand and jamming it roughly onto his ring finger. It's pretty useless, though, as the ring just falls right off. "Can we make out now?"

Brendon doesn't need to be asked twice.