FEVERISH [RYDEN] [REPOST]

SECRECY

Los Angeles, California

Brendon still hadn't told them as the plane touched down in LAX, and he hadn't explained why he refused to sit down next to Ryan Ross on the flight down.

He still hadn't told them as they caught a cab down to Pete Wentz's apartment.

He still hadn't told them as they buzzed in.

And he still hadn't told them why, as Ryan Ross brushed against his wrist, he pulled away so abruptly.

"Hey, man."

Hey, man.

What were they expecting? Certainly not for Pete Wentz to show up at the door, letting them in in a pair of basketball shorts and his own band's t-shirt. Brendon's eyes raked down his body, his gaze catching on the blunt dangling loosely from the dark-haired man's hand.

This was not how a business meeting was supposed to go.

There was a beat of awkward, stunned silence, a holy-shit-that's-actually-pete-wentz silence. Then...

"Hey, man." Ryan Ross steps forward, always the savior, and awkwardly moves to shake Pete Wentz's hand, who pushes it away to give him a hug.

"Man, I'm so glad you guys are here. Come in, come on up."

The four teenaged boys traipsed into the older man's apartment, their awkward bodies shifting and bumping against each other as they squished into the space.

"Sit, sit, sit."

All emotions that Brendon Urie had about Ryan Ross in that moment was gone in an instant, as he was suddenly being shoved into a couch up against him.

"So, first order of business," Pete says, slamming a case of beer onto the sheet-music covered coffee table.

"You boys have some place to stay tonight, right?"

Three boys nodded, but Brendon Urie shook his head slightly.

"Couldn't.. really... afford-"

"Don't worry. You can stay with me, I've got a couch."

Ryan opened his mouth, about to protest with a ' you can stay with me at the hotel' when Brendon burst into a smile and accepted his offer.

"Now," Pete says, tilting back in his chair, folding his hands. The boys watched intently as he laced his fingers and slammed his feet on the table in front of him.

"Now, that that's in order."

He let a small smile slip from his lips, making excited eye contact with Ryan.

"Let's talk about the music."

-!-

-!-

-!-

Pete Wentz was always a careful man.

Well, not necessarily. He was not careful when it came to drugs, or drinking, or band-related things, or press. He was really not a careful man at all.

Except about Mikey Way.

See, Pete Wentz's relationship with Mikey Way was complicated. Not in the sense that it was, say, an on-and-off relationship. No, it was very on. All the time.

They fucked. And kissed. And called. And texted. And held hands. And cuddled. And emailed. And wrote love-notes.

And nobody knew.

Well, until now.

Nobody knew until Pete Wentz got a call at 11 pm that night, lightly excused himself from the room that Brendon Urie was sitting in, and allowed his heart to skip a beat.