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Moulin Rouge and Truffles	By : druscillaryan Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Panic! At The Disco Views: 1072 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Panic! At the Disco. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Moulin Rouge and Truffles
- 1
Moulin Rouge and Truffles

Ryan sighed. Brendon was out, doing something. Brendon was out, doing something without Ryan. Not an abnormal occurrence and definitely not something Ryan would generally sigh about. But today was different. Ryan didn’t know why he expected it to be.
Brendon was notoriously bad with dates.

Brendon had forgotten Ryan’s birthday.

Therefore, the sigh. Ryan felt he was allowed a sigh if his boyfriend had forgotten his birthday. He’d drop a hint when Brendon got home. ’Spencer says we’re going out for my birthday tomorrow.’ Then there would be apologies and make-up sex. And who can argue with sex? Ryan just wished that it would be ‘I-love-you-happy-birthday’ sex as opposed to ‘I’m-so-sorry-I-forgot’ sex.

He’d already gotten a call from Spencer. ’Happy birthday, Ry! How’s it feel to be old?’

‘Shut up, Spence.’

‘Aw, be nice. I’m just kidding. I’m just calling to let you know not to plan anything tomorrow. I’m sure you and Bren have the whole day planned out and, no, I do not want to know what the plans are. But Jon’s going to get here late tonight and then the four of us are going to go out tomorrow, all right?’

Ryan hadn’t told Spencer there were no plans that day. It was so nice to hear that someone had thought about the possibility that Brendon might actually remember and plan around it. If Jon was flying out for one lousy reason, surely Brendon could program a reminder into his Sidekick or something.

Ryan’s birthday. Pick out cheap gift and have hot sex.

The fans remembered. Somebody who handled the fan mail had called to let Ryan know there would be a huge-ass package delivered to his house the next day. People who didn’t even know Ryan remembered, sent cards and presents, cared. But his own boyfriend couldn’t remember.

He sighed again, getting up from the bed where he had been for the last hour, bare toes skimming the floor as his feet swung over the edge. He sighed two more times, once when he entered the kitchen to grab a box of truffles from the fridge and once when he was picking out a movie to watch. Moulin Rouge. I bet Christian remembered Satine’s birthday.

That certainly didn’t help with his self-pity and the movie wasn’t helping either. Christian wrote a fucking song and put it in a play to remind Satine how much he loved her. And Brendon was romantic. He bought Ryan sentimental gifts for no reason and even flowers once. That had made Ryan laugh so hard that Brendon blushed scarlet and Ryan felt bad, which had lead to sex. Brendon was constantly calling Ryan beautiful, saying how much he loved him, holding him when they watched movies.

But Brendon hadn’t remembered their anniversary. Fucking Christmas Eve. It doesn’t get any easier than that! And now Brendon had forgotten his birthday.

Now Ryan was sulking. He was sulking and eating truffles and watching El Tango de Roxanne. He heard the front door open; Brendon was home. Ryan continued to sulk, even when his boyfriend wrapped his arms around him from behind and kissed his temple.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Ryan said shortly, violently shoving another chocolate into his mouth.

“How do you stay so skinny, Ry?” Brendon asked, laughing.

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me. Ryan shrugged. “Dunno.”

“You okay?” Brendon asked gently. He walked around the couch and sat down next to Ryan, leaning in and planting a light kiss to his neck. “Babe?”

“It’s—“ Ryan choked on his words, or maybe the chocolate that was still in his mouth. He felt Brendon’s palm hitting him sharply between his shoulder blades as he coughed. He swallowed and reached for the water bottle on the coffee table, gulping quickly.

Brendon’s arms wrapped around his boyfriend’s waist, kissing just underneath his ear; Ryan liked that. But he pulled away, crossing his arms. “What’s your problem?” Brendon asked.

Ryan glared at him. “Spencer called to—“ He sneezed. Dammit. Someone, probably God or a voodoo witch, really didn’t want Ryan to talk.

“Bless you.” Brendon said. “Now what did Spencer call about?”

Ryan looked at him for a moment, staring deep into Brendon’s eyes. He loves you. He can’t help forgetting. “Whatever.” Ryan said, standing up and heading for the bedroom. Brendon didn’t follow him, which only pissed the older boy off more. He heard his boyfriend turn the movie off, heard the faint voices of a television program.

Ryan decided to call Jon.

One ring . . . two rings . . . thr—

“Hey, birthday boy. What’s up?” Ryan could hear noise in the background, dozens of incomprehensible voices.

“What are you doing?” the younger boy asked. The sounds grew quieter.

“Leaving so I can talk to you.” The voices were gone. “What’s wrong? You and Bren get in a fight?”

“He forgot.” Ryan said quietly. “He forgot about my birthday. But I . . . I don’t want to say anything. It’s stupid, right? Brendon can’t remember shit.”

“You should talk to him, Ry.” Jon said seriously. “How’s he supposed to know you’re upset if you won’t talk to him? Besides the fact that you’re probably stomping around like a drama queen.”

“I am not!” Ryan said indignantly, a pout forming on his lips.

“You’re a terrible liar, Ry.” Jon said, chuckling. “Go talk to your boyfriend. We’re going to be hitting strip clubs tomorrow and you don’t still want to be fighting with him.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in an airport or something?” Ryan asked.

“I am. I’m hiding in a gift shop talking to you. Quit trying to change the subject, Ross.” Jon said, calling his friend’s bluff. “I’m not oblivious like Brendon. Now go fucking talk to him. Otherwise Spence and I are going to go to the strip clubs without you. And seeing Spencer get a lap dance is not something you want to miss.”

Ryan huffed, rolling his eyes. “Fine.”

“Quit acting like you’re five. You get older on your birthday, not younger.”

“Thanks.” he said sarcastically. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jon.”

“Talk to him, Ry.”

“I will.” the younger boy promised. “Bye.”

“Bye.” Jon said. “And happy birthday.” he added.

Ryan hung the phone up, lying back on the bed. Maybe if he got drunk, he’d pass out and have an excuse for not talking to Brendon. Maybe if he called Spencer he could get the younger boy to tell him not to talk to his boyfriend. Yeah, like that would happen. He and Brendon were the stupid ones. Spencer and Jon were the smart ones. Spencer would say the same thing Jon had said, although he’d probably leave out the strip clubs. Spencer probably didn’t know about the strip clubs. Jon probably hadn’t mentioned it.

Ryan heard the bedroom door open, but he didn’t move except to close his eyes. He felt the bed dip down, felt Brendon’s lips on his cheek, then the hollow of his neck. “Ry.”

“. . . yeah?”

“What’s wrong?” Brendon asked, brushing the hair from his boyfriend’s face. Ryan opened his eyes and received a sad sort of smile. “I heard you talking. Did you call Spence?”

“Jon.”

“What did I do?” Brendon asked. Ryan wouldn’t call Jon if he were mad at Spencer. He’d yell at Spencer and then bitch to Brendon about it until he stormed off to write or listen to angry music. And Ryan had obviously been upset, so the only logical reason to call Jon would be to complain about Brendon.

Ryan sighed, sitting up. “It’s my birthday, Bren.”

“Duh.” his boyfriend said. “So why are you so fucking upset? You’re not old enough to be pissed off at your birthday yet.”

Ryan’s forehead furrowed. “You knew it was my birthday?”

Brendon rolled his eyes. “I left to go get your present, Ryan.”

“But . . . you didn’t say anything. And you always forget stuff like that.”

“Spencer was on my ass about it for the last week.” Brendon said. “It’s kind of hard to ignore Spencer when he calls you five fucking times a day. I thought about changing my number.”

Ryan gave a weak laugh, head falling against his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” he said into Brendon’s skin. “I’m just . . . stupid, I guess.”

“I love you anyway.”

“That’s good.”

“Want your present?” Brendon asked, leaning across to grab a small black box from the nightstand. “It’s kind of . . . girly, but you’re kind of girly so I thought you might like it.”

Ryan stuck his tongue out, slowly lifting the lid from the box. It was a necklace, silver with a picture of what looked like an angel on one side, the letters RRBU on the back. The necklace opened, revealing a picture of he and Brendon together on one side and the words ‘I love you’ on the other. “It’s beautiful, Bren.”

“That’s St. Francis de Sales. He’s the patron saint of writers. I thought maybe he’d help when you get writer’s block.” Brendon leaned forward and pressed his lips against Ryan’s forehead. “I love you.”

Ryan’s fingers traced the image on the necklace. “I love you, too.”

“Happy birthday, Ryan.”

Brendon clasped the necklace around Ryan’s neck. It stuck to Ryan’s sweat-covered body when they made love a few minutes later. The older boy wrapped his fingers around it when they were making pizza for supper, when they were finishing Moulin Rouge, when Brendon kissed him good night.

He would have to thank Spencer the next day.
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Moulin Rouge and Truffles