Everything You Are - Brendon Urie *completed* (part 2/3)

fifty-seven: i feel the salty waves come in

Brendon and his mother came over to our house earlier than our new neighbors did, Brendon and I immediately retreating to the basement after a few, "leave the door open!" and "leave room for Jesus" comments from both of our mothers as Grace helped my own mother make dinner. We played video games at first, laughing as Brendon nudged me and I would come back full force and knock him aside, actually messing him up. There was no tension between the two of us, just a bunch of giggling and cursing each other for all the times we'd ram each other off the road--and nearly off the couch at times--until Brendon finally put his controller down, something I noticed he did whenever he was done for a few minutes and we were about to start talking about whatever seemed fit for conversation at the time. 

"I'm really nervous about our neighbors," I said, Brendon reaching out and gently rubbing my knee. "I mean, what if her son, Jake or whatever his name is, turns out to be some asshole and not only does he rat me out for sneaking out or something, but then tries to sneak into my room at night because he sees me leave?" 

"Oh come on, now it just seems like you're looking for reasons to be worried," he said. "Why don't you relax and not worry until there's plausible reason to?" 

"I know," I sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm just nervous." I covered my face with my hands, and Brendon reached out and removed them. 

"Don't be nervous," he said. "You weren't nervous when you met me, you were just incredibly quiet." 

"How do you know I wasn't nervous?" I challenged. 

"You went outside and one of the first significant things you said to me had some sort of swear word in it," he said. "And I know that you only filter yourself around people you have to." 

"Okay fine, you got me," I said. "But I don't know. Maybe it's because you were up the street and he's next door. Or maybe it was because I met you at church, not at some dinner, and I knew you were a cinnamon roll from the way you dress." 

Brendon looked down at his outfit, a loose white t-shirt and black jeans with a hole in the knee. "I don't get it." 

"The glasses," I said, nodding at him and he took them off his face and put them on the table. 

"How about now?" he asked, squinting at me slightly. "Do I look like a badass?" 

"No, you look like a dumbass," I laughed. "First of all, you're squinting like an old lady reading the fine print, and you have lines on your nose." 

"I fucking hate these things," he threw himself back against the couch and I laughed even more, pulling him around the waist and kissing his cheek. 

"No, I love them," I said. "I think it's adorable how you always push them up your nose with your little index finger. That's the first little habit of yours that I fell in love with, aside from the constant smiling." 

He picked up his glasses, putting them on his face and pushing them up with his middle finger, intentionally leaving all of his other fingers folded into a fist so he would flip me off. My mouth dropped open, and he reached out and stuck his finger into it. 

"What the hell, Brendon?!" I swatted his hand away and it was his time to laugh, as I pushed him back against the couch and climbed over his chest, using my knees to pin his arms down against the couch. The nice thing about him being so small is that he may be strong, but so am I, and I can pin him down easier just because I'm more flexible. "I think you need to be punished." 

"Really?" his tone changed and he looked at me suggestively, a smirk creeping onto his face. "What are you gonna do to me, exactly?"

I smirked right back at him, his pupils instantly dilating. He was taking this entirely the wrong way. Horny teenagers, I swear. I reached down to his sides underneath my thighs and began tickling him, and he immediately shrieked and started squirming underneath me, begging me to stop.