livejournal fics//joncer

Mothertruckin' Flapjacks

  Title Mothertruckin' Flapjacks
Author
Pairing Jon/Spencer
Rating Dude. Um. Pretty PG. Maybe R for language.
Description Goes along with Panic! hosting Rage. Clips .
Author's Notes Just wrote it in order of how the clips went in the one where they're all smooshed together. I know two of them are out of order, but... yeah.
Disclaimer About as real as Pamela Anderson's boobs, guys. Please don't sue.

Introduction
Brendon's claimed the spot closest to the camera, Spencer the one furthest. Which is, you know, pretty much the natural order of things, so Ryan settles himself in next to Spencer and lets Jon and Brendon do their thing.

He's got this lyric floating around in his head anyway, this little snippet that looks like melted wax in his mind and he just wants to force it past his tongue and onto Brendon's. So he's barely paying attention, just kind of letting the words swirl, and then Jon jumps Spencer's cue. Brendon is supposed to say that they're Panic! and that this is Rage and that they have videos and then Spencer is supposed to say that it's Saturday night, but suddenly Jon is babbling something about flapjacks and Spencer is pressed into Ryan's elbow waiting. Brendon jumps in again, asserting that they call videos "French toast" and then Spencer's just kind of reclaiming his cue; he never gets mad, he just gets his.

"It's Saturday night," he says, "and you guys are at sitting home, uh."

Everyone's head turns in unison to Spencer -- he just has that effect -- and Ryan snorts. "Why." Ryan hates questions. Well, it's more that he hates the answers, the uncertainty, so he's just sort of banished question marks from his vocabulary. Deadpan, they call it.Indifferent. Passionless. Whatever. They also say that Spencer's a bitch, which is only half true, if at all. "Why?" Spencer echoes, but he makes it a question, laughing a little.

Which just starts it all, doesn't it? Jon jumps in again--nobody bothers scripting Jon, he'll never stick to it--and runs with it, "Question number two is: Why are you spending it with us?" And then, of course, Ryan is trapped between Jon and Spencer; Jon's face is turned from the camera and he gives Spencer this look and Ryan feels more than sees Spencer's answering one. Fuck. He really should have sat next to Brendon.

He feels the side of his face warming from the way Spencer's beaming at Jon, like Jon hung the fucking moon and then did a little dance around it and then possibly gave Spencer the best head of his life or something, and doesn't anyone realize that there is a camera on them?

It's all fucked up anyway, so Ryan deadpans in with, "And why aren't you eating flapjacks."

"And why aren't you..." Jon echoes, trailing off, distracted and the bar is set. Ryan wishes he was sitting next to Brendon again, but this time so that they could exchange sympathetic glances and maybe figure out some way to play rock-paper-scissors off-camera because they're in for another twenty minutes of The Jon and Spencer Show, which is cute most times but less so when Ryan hasn't gotten laid in a week and Jon's trying to lick Spencer's throat from three feet away, seriously. He kicks Spencer a little, the heel of his shoe impacting with Spencer's shin, but it doesn't halt the flood of warm melty that he feels coming off of Spencer at all, so.

Brendon at least remembers that they're intro'ing a video. Thank God for Brendon and his ability to, say, finish sentences. Or, you know, not lipstick a sloppy heart onto a Post-It and then pin it to his sleeve. Ryan gives up on the kicking and turns to eye Spencer. Stop it, he says with his eyes. Right now.

Spencer does the eyebrow quirk of What? You're crazy, but Ryan just chews his gum more purposefully and stares.

"Here it comes," Jon says.