Boys Will Be Boys *Ryden*

The Road to Hell

They stuffed themselves with pizza, then played Guitar Hero for a couple of hours. Around 9 o'clock, Pete said, "So, we goin' out somewhere or what?"

Brendon grimaced. "Dude, I'm out. Last night almost killed me," he said.

Everybody else wanted to go out, but Ryan was torn. He was tempted to go, but he'd feel guilty about leaving Brendon alone, sitting around doing nothing. Also, getting to bed at a decent hour sounded like a good plan. He guessed they'd probably end up crashing at Pete's place again, and made a mental note to buy a toothbrush.

"I'll stay behind too," Ryan said, ignoring Brendon when he quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Suit yourselves. See ya in the morning!" Pete said, and then they were gone.

Brendon wandered over to Pete's DVD rack. "I have an idea," he said.

"Oh boy. Here we go."

"Nah, I was just thinking that we should get baked and watch a movie."

"You have weed?"

"Of course I have weed, dumb-dumb."

Ryan had to admit it was a stupid question. "Okay," he agreed. "Let's do it."

They spent a few minutes looking through the DVD collection, finally selecting The Ring. Brendon was a horror movie fanatic, even though they scared the living shit out of him. Then Brendon went to roll a couple joints.

For the first few minutes of the movie they sat in companionable silence, just watching and smoking. It was really good weed and Ryan felt loose and relaxed. And happy. He could tell from Brendon's pupils and the goofy smile on his face that he was feeling good too.

Ryan got up and made some microwave popcorn (extra butter, of course) and brought it back to the living room with a couple of Cokes. Scary shit was starting to go down in the movie, and Brendon jumped so hard that he spilled Coke all over his shirt. "Godammit," he laughed. Ryan went to get a wet kitchen towel, and then leaned down over Brendon and rubbed at the stain.

"Why do I feel like all I do lately is take care of you like you're a little kid or something?"

"Because I'm freakin' adorable and you love me."

"You're high."

Brendon cackled maniacally. "You're high too, Ross!"

"True," Ryan conceded. Suddenly Brendon grabbed his wrists and pulled him forward until their noses were almost touching.

"I just want you to think about this, okay?" Brendon said and pressed his mouth to Ryan's. It was a sweet, soft, innocent kiss, their lips parted only slightly, no tongue involved, and then Brendon immediately backed off. "Just think about it."

Ryan was reeling. That was -- that was hot. It shouldn't have been that hot, it was so quick and benign, not outrightly sexual, which in some strange way made it more sexual.

Brendon interrupted his thoughts by saying, "Well, are you just going to stand there? Move over, you're blocking the TV."

Ryan stopped gaping at him and returned to his spot on the couch. He tried to focus on the movie again but his mind was all over the place. He re-lit the joint that he'd put out halfway through, and inhaled deeply. This was bad.

He glanced over to see Brendon sitting with his arms crossed over his damp t-shirt, a smirk on his face. "What the hell are you smiling about?" Ryan demanded.

"You liked it."

"Did not." Ryan countered, sounding like a petulant child.

"Did too. And right now? Right now you're thinking about what it would be like to have my tongue in your mouth."