CASUAL AFFAIR; brendon urie

Chapter Fifty

The best way to describe Brendon sitting, with an ice pack clutched to his cheek was like a puppy - the kind that was waiting, with its tail tucked between its legs. My heart - as it always did - thudded a little faster when I saw him ... but this time, it was ... just different. Like I just wanted to hug the living heck out of him and not let go.

I wasn't dumb, things had changed. Even before Dallon found out and clocked him one. And that just made my heart thump a little bit unevenly.

His eyes snapped over to me when I entered, and he stood, setting down the bag of ice, and waiting for me to join him. And I crossed over to him quickly, as he held his arms out, and without a single word, he wrapped me in just the embrace I wanted, needed. I pressed my cheek to his chest, eyes closed as I bunched the material of his shirt at his back in my fingers.

When we - eventually - broke apart, Brendon led me over to the seats - ever the gentleman about it. "Oh," I said, sitting opposite, close enough that our knees knocked together, as my eyes fell on the big red bloom across the right hand side of Brendon's jaw. "Brendon." I finished softly.

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, and picked up and pressed the ice pack back in place. "S'not so bad."

My hand found his free one, and for a little while, we just sat there, with them clasped together like that. Then with a soft sigh, I met his big, brown-eyed gaze. "I'm so sorry Brendon. God. I'm sorry I screwed up."

"Hey," he said in protest, shaking his head adamantly, though he winced at the movement. "What the heck are you sorry about Florrie? You've got nothing to be apologetic about."

I laughed, once. "I got plenty to be apologetic about. For starters, that fist sized bruise on your face there."

Brendon cracked a lopsided smile. "For starters - you didn't hit me. And another thing - don't for one second take the weight of all this on your shoulders."

"I don't know what you mean." I murmured, looking down at our joined hands.

"Sure you do." he gave my fingers a squeeze. "This ... Whole thing that me and you have been doing - it was kind of a two guy operation, and if there's any blame it's equally shared." he shrugged again. He paused, and his thumb swept over each of my knuckles, back and forth. "I don't regret it. Us."

My voice was confident, clear, as I replied "Neither do I."

"Well," he bit his lip, totally adorably. "Good."

Even though he was probably aware, I felt the need to let him know. "I spoke to Dallon. I mean ... he did most of the talking. I'm still mad at him. But I guess ... a little less mad now."

In reply shook his head. "Don't be. He's just doing his job. As the youngest out of five, it's just the pitfalls of being the family baby. And," he gave my fingers another squeeze. "When we talked ... after he calmed a bit ... Florrie, he was nothing but worried about you, how you felt, what this had done to you..." and for the third time, he shrugged. "He's a good guy."

I let out a soft huff of breath. "So are you."

He let go of my hand to run his through his hair, making it stick back up and flop back down again, and he sighed. And that sigh was weary and a little sad. "I don't want to do this anymore. This fuck buddies thing." he shook his head, before chuckling to himself softly, and his face changed as he gave me a devastating, lopsided smile. "Because I like you. Really like you. Super like you."

I wound a lock of hair around my finger, and softly said "I really, really like you too."

"So," he said. "How about we start again?"