It was cold, and it was dark, and he shivered, licking his lips. He hugged himself, his heartbeat spiking. He refused to be scared. He refused to be weak.

He didn't recognise anyone, and for the most part, that was good. It meant that nobody would see him and ask him just what the fuck he was doing there. He didn't have an answer for anyone who did.

Standing on the street corner of the shadiest, scum-ridden part of town just seemed like a good idea at the time.

He could see girls who knew what they were doing, who were confident and sexy and beautiful and everything he wasn't. They were gorgeous and classy and he was just in a pair of leather booty shorts and a tank top he'd stolen from Brendon, and some sneakers. He wasn't prepared for this at all. He hadn't thought it through in the slightest.

One by one, the girls left with other men, until he was stood on his own. People passed by, barely sparing him a glance as they went to the next club for the next drink, the next fuck in the toilets, the next dance. They were getting on with their lives. He wasn't.

"You okay there, sweetheart?"

He looked up, seeing a man shrouded by darkness. The first to approach him. He swallowed heavily, and feigned confidence that he really didn't have, confidence that had been shattered. Spencer had made sure of that.

"Depends if you're willing to make me feel better." He bit his lower lip, batting his eyelashes.

"Maybe I can." The man slipped his arm around his waist. "What's your name? Y'know, so I know what I'm supposed to be screaming later."

"I'm Dallon. What should I call you?"

He grinned, beginning to pull Dallon away, towards his car. "Call me Bert."

~

"Mom, this is my babydoll. I'm what's known as his Sugar Daddy."

It was safe to say that Brendon's mom was close to throwing up. At her son's words, she looked Ryan up and down and turned and walked back into the house, leaving the front door open for them. Brendon, with his hand on Ryan's lower back, led the elder into the house, and into the front room, where Brendon's stepfather sat, reading the newspaper.

He looked up when they walked in. "Hey, Brendon."

"Sean." Brendon briefly acknowledged, with a nod and a step closer to his 'babydoll'.

Sean peered at Ryan, who licked his lips, glancing at Brendon. "You're Ryan Ross."

The pornstar's eyes widened, while the model's face flushed. "Uh. Yes, I am." He squeaked, in the most unattractive manner. "I - uh -"

"How the fuck do you know who he is?" Brendon cried, and his mom scolded him from the kitchen.

"He's...pretty famous." He shrugged, going back to his newspaper. "Why don't you show him your old room?"

Brendon rolled his eyes and took Ryan's hand, taking him upstairs. He stopped outside a door that had a typical emo teenage boy sign scrawled on it - Brendon's Room!!! KEEP OUT!!!! - and a smile rose to Ryan's face. "You're about to see sixteen-year-old me, okay? I haven't been in here for like seven years, 'cause I've been sucking dick since I was seventeen. I'd be surprised if they haven't sold all my shit."

He opened the door and stepped in, Ryan following him, and his eyebrows rose. It was the same as the day he'd left it, albeit a bit dusty. He could see a stack of porno magazines under his bed, the corners poking out, with the posters old and fading and the duvet so outdated it was deemed amusing. There were photos on the nightstand of his teenage self, with the friends from school that he never saw anymore, and there were books, accompanied by a few soft toys, on a bookcase in the corner of the room. The closet was open and looked like it had been ransacked, with hangers spilling onto the floor and clothes that he hadn't wanted barely hanging on.

But what Ryan noticed first was the guitar beside his bed, pure white and perfect, no scratches at all. He turned to Brendon, who was sat on the bed, and pointed to it. "You play?"

"Yeah, well..." He shrugged. "I used to. I was pretty good at it. But I just...stopped. Pornstars don't play guitar."

"Says who?"

"Knock knock." Came a new voice, and Ryan turned around to see a guy who was probably Brendon's age. "Hey, you're Ryan, right?"

"Uh, yeah...?"

"I'm Jon." He held out his hand for Ryan to shake. "Brendon's stepbrother. I'm guessing he hasn't said anything about me."

"Nope."

Jon snorted. "Figures. When are you two gonna start dating?" Ryan spluttered, while Brendon raised an eyebrow. "Should be soon. Anyway, Selena says that dinner's gonna be ready in ten. I'll call you." He shot them both a wink and left, closing the door behind him.

Ryan sat beside Brendon, staring at him incredulously, while the younger rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, uh, yeah, that's my stepbrother, he doesn't live here, I'm guessing Sean invited him, he's pretty cool, embarrassing though -"

"Hey, it's fine, I don't mind." Ryan smiled in what he hoped was reassurance, while his heart was thundering in his chest. Were they really supposed to start dating? Was that what everyone was expecting? Was that what Spencer was expecting? Suddenly this didn't seem like such a good idea anymore. "At least someone in your family doesn't seem like they hate you."

He shrugged. "Yeah..." Ryan took his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "I'm used to people hating me, though." He flopped back onto the bed, his free arm over his face. "Can I tell you something?"

The model laid beside him, their joined hands between them. "Anything."

He grumbled. "Sometimes I regret cheating on Spencer. I'm an asshole, I know I'm an asshole, I've been an asshole for twenty-four years and I know I probably should've been aborted, but - but - but I shouldn't have cheated on Spencer. That was the lowest fucking thing to do. I made him hate me so much and that's not fair. And now Dallon's fallen in love with me, and that was not supposed to happen - but I can't love him, I can never love him, not without thinking about what I did to Spencer, because Spencer's a good fucking guy, and I just screwed him over, I screwed everyone over, and I'm not worth the pain but it keeps happening and -"

"Brendon." Ryan said quietly, stroking his knuckles. "Wanna know what I think?" The pornstar looked at him, eyebrows raised. "You're finally developing a guilty conscience." He smiled at the glare shot his way. "Look, okay, you admitted that what you did was shitty, and that's great. You just have to make it right, now."

"He hates me." Brendon's voice cracked, and Ryan shuffled closer, wrapping his free arm around his waist.

"I know, but he's only going to stop hating you if you keep away from Dallon and have another shot at being friends with him." He knew what he had to say, so he said it: "It's the only thing you can do if you want Spencer to ever speak to you again. And you care about Spencer, right?"

"Well...yeah..." He stared at the ceiling. "I wish I wasn't a fucking pornstar. I wish I was a normal adult, y'know?"

"Then you would never have met me."

Their eyes met, and then their lips, short and sweet and beautiful and everything their weird little fucked-up relationship wasn't. And it was great: Ryan had said the right thing. Ryan had driven the final nail into Dallon's coffin. Ryan had perfectly and surely gained Brendon's trust. Ryan had never felt more guilty in his life.

~

"So if he's your Sugar Daddy -" Selena Walker almost spat the words out, ashamed to be saying them - at the dinner table of all places. "- then why hasn't he bought you anything?"

"He does buy me things, Ma'am." Ryan replied, glancing at Brendon, who winked at him. "He buys me...toys."

The woman who was so unfortunately Brendon Urie's mother paled, and she put her fork down. "Well, that's - um - lovely." She got to her feet. "Sean, honey, do you want any more wine?"

"No thanks, love."

"I will." Jon piped up, grinning, and Selena smiled, swatting at his head with her napkin.

"I'll go fetch a new bottle." She said, and as she left the room, Brendon settled a hand on Ryan's thigh, a proud little grin on his face.

Nothing was said while she was absent, the mood turning awkward the second the door had closed, with Sean looking anywhere but at Ryan and Brendon, and Jon sniggering opposite them, catching Brendon's eye every few seconds and thinking wildly about how the hell this had happened. Not so long ago, Ryan Ross was too scared to speak to anyone, let alone be this close to Brendon Urie, of all people. He thought Ryan hated Brendon. That was the gist he'd gotten from the photoshoot and everything before. Ryan was supposed to hate Brendon. So why the sudden interest?

~

"So he's on the streets?"

"He was. Got picked up two hours ago."

"Good. Who by?"

"A friend. He's in safe hands, trust me."

"Okay." A sigh. "And then what?"

"And then whatever you want. Whatever needs to be done."

"I've just had a text from Ryan."

"What did it say?"

"Brendon's promised to stay away. He wants to make things right with me."

"And will you let him?"

"Yes. Drive the leech away, closer to you, closer to your friend."

"Back to you."

A pause. "Yes."

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