Sexy Strat Man: An Ian Crawford Free-For-All Fic Fest

[fifteendozentimes]

1. Commment with prompts, requests, ideas, pictures, or vague dream-memories!


2. Fill other people's prompts! Or just post whatever the heck you want, unprompted!


3. All fics must have Ian as a central character. Obviously. Anything goes, otherwise: AUs, crossovers, the crackiest crack, whatever!


4. Other forms of media are HIGHLY ENCOURAGED. Art, manips, fanmixes, recs, vids, picspams, interpretive dance.


5. This fest is being simulcast on Dreamwidth and Livejournal. Feel free to play in either or both!


6. Have fun and spread the love!

PROMPTS
(prompt list covers prompts from both DW and LJ)
unfilled prompts | fills |

SPREAD THE LOVE
<center><a href="http://fifteendozentimes.dreamwidth.org/5134.html"><img src="http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e138/hector_rashbaum/ianfest.png" /></a></center>

Comments

[fifteendozentimes]

i think i will begin with the obvious picture prompt(s):

CRACK DOES NOT GET A TITLE, 1/1, Panic 3.0 GSF

[littlemousling]

"Oh, man, that was great." Ian's had some great nights on stage, but this one was definitely top five. Maybe top three. "So whose room are we in?"

"You're with Spencer," Dallon says, "didn't you already drop your bags?"

"No, yeah, I mean for the last-show, you know, party." He waggles his eyebrows, because he is always happy to underline a good double entendre.

"I thought we were going out?" Spencer's working his way through a few bottles of water, and some of it's getting past his lips and his beard and turning his white shirt transparent. Ian can't say he isn't enjoying the preview of this evening, Spencer's big drummer shoulders.

"Well, we can go out first," Ian says, "if that's what you guys usually do."

Spencer and Brendon exchange a look. "Do you--I have no idea what you're hinting at, dude, you might want to come out with it." Brendon looks pretty sincere, too, and Ian blinks at him a couple of times.

"Last-night orgy?" He's glad Zack has stepped out, that it's just them in the green room. "Duh?"

Dallon, behind him, makes a squeaking noise. "What?"

They all look confused. This is weird. "Um. The last-night--I don't--how do you guys not--you've all been in bands forever."

"Uh, yeah," Spencer says. "And they've been pretty light on the orgies."

"Though not bereft," Brendon mutters, and Spencer elbows him.

"But, I mean--" This is seriously kind of blowing Ian's mind. "But everybody in FBR does it. It's tradition."

"Um, did Cash tell you that to get into your pants? Because that sounds famil--um, that sounds like him," Brendon says. Spencer turns to stare at Brendon, who tries to pull his pants the rest of the way up and almost falls over.

"I really don't know how--Dallon, you guys didn't?"

Dallon raises his hands in front of him, pulls a face. "Yeah, no comment."

"Wait, no comment doesn't mean no."

"Okay, then no," Dallon says. "So much no. All of the no."

Ian frowns, looks at them all again. "You're not just messing with me?"

There's a chorus of nos, and Ian lets his face fall. "Oh. Well--right, okay."

"Aw, hey, buddy," Brendon says, and hugs him. They're both still shirtless, so it's kind of a tease, actually, and it really isn't making Ian feel better. He's been warming up for this the whole tour, feeling them out, jerking off in his bunk at night with visions of the post-tour orgy in his head. And now he's gonna have to fly out tomorrow to an empty bed and no pleasant soreness anywhere except his main guitar fingers.

"Jeez, could you look like more of a downer, Crawford?" Dallon's coming closer, too, wraps his arms around the two of them and gestures at Spencer, who rolls his eyes but then spots Ian watching and looks abashed.

"All right, all right," Spencer says, and joins the hug. "Always with the hugging. This is what I get for sticking with you, Brendon. You know who's not a big hugger? Ryan. Ryan is the anti-hugger."

"Yeah, you love it," Brendon says. "You picked me because you are a secret hug-slut."

"I'm not even dignifying that with a response," Spencer says. "Okay, Ian, you good to go? We'll, I don't know, we'll go get you laid. Brendon is a creepily efficient wingman."

"I guess," Ian says. He's trying to cheer up on their behalf but it's just a very sudden disappointment. He really doubts they're going to find him three hot musicians in any club, and definitely not three hot musicians he really likes and admires and wants to fuck.

"Or, well," Brendon starts, and Dallon and Spencer let go and step back to look at him. "I'm just saying, you know, if it's tradition ..."

"Veto," Dallon says.

"That--is not good reasoning," Spencer says.

"That isn't a no either." Ian's getting good at spotting those.

Spencer coughs and picks up a bottle of water, but he doesn't actually say anything. Huh. Maybe--

"C'mon, Dallon, you don't want to be left out, right?" Ian leans toward him, tries to look adorable in a sexy way. "Always be thinking about how it would have been ..."

"I'm married," Dallon says, but he's licking his lips.

"Yeah, but, like, I think we all know how Breezy would feel. I mean. She told me you guys have a band exception." Brendon rubs the back of his neck. "Oh, uh, I wasn't supposed to tell anyone that she said that, though."

"You are the worst with secrets," Spencer says, but he's smiling fondly.

Ian doesn't want to scare them off, but he thinks this might be the moment to lock this shit in. "So ... we're joining in the grand and storied tradition of post-tour band orgies, yes or no?"

There's a long pause, no one quite meeting anyone else's eyes, and then Brendon sucks in a long breath. "Uh, I'm in."

"Okay," Spencer says, quickly, glances at Brendon. "I mean, you know. Why the fuck not."

Dallon's got a full deer-in-the-headlights look, and they're all staring at him now, waiting.

"I mean--I guess--if everyone else is," he says, and Ian carefully doesn't mention how blatantly Dallon's been staring at Brendon's hips since he started disrobing.

Through the door, they hear Zack's voice, a gruff bark. "Count me in, too, dudes."

"Well," Brendon says, grinning, "now it's a party."

[verbosewordsmith]

I am so excited about this! To start my prompt-spam off:

Girl!Ian. ALL of the always a girl!Ian. Please share bunnies, manips, random thoughts, plotty gen, plotty porn, Ian and Greta bra shopping, whatever.

[gala_apples]

I wrote some girl!Ian a few months ago. Here. I know this meme is for generating NEW fic, but I figured you'd want to see.

[verbosewordsmith]

Part of Ian's audition for Panic included a fashion show. Tell me about that!

[verbosewordsmith]

Being one of the new guys in Panic-bonding with Dallon or just getting used to playing with them, whatever. Related ideas: Ian leaving The Cab and then playing with Panic, Ian making the decision to quit Stamps for Panic.

[verbosewordsmith]

Ian, Spencer, Brendon, Cablings and college.

[verbosewordsmith]

Lady love, college au, tattoos

always-a-girl!Ian/Nicole Anderson; bb lesbian shenanigans

[fifteendozentimes]

Singer and Marshall do a lot of annoying things, but the most annoying (well, maybe) is the way they just assume any girl they talk to wants to sleep with at least one of them; it might be true, sometimes, it’s almost certainly true of the girls they meet after shows, but the thing is they’re both so bad with girls they can usually talk themselves out of actually getting anywhere. And that point where they’ve managed to lay the douchebag on too thick is always the point where the girl suddenly notices Ian exists and just assumes she wants to spend the whole night hearing about how dumb boys are and watching Singer and Marshall try to salvage the situation.

It’s worse when the girls they pick up are exactly Ian’s type, because — look, Ian’s hot, okay, she’s hot and she’s an awesome guitarist and lots of people are really into her worn-out t-shirts and old jeans look. Just not the pretty bubbly straight girls she would be totally happy to show the hot lesbian light to.

“Like I can’t fucking tell when boys are trying to get me drunk,” the girl they’d brought to the club with them after the show says, appearing through a break in the crowd to take the empty seat at Ian’s table. “Do you want one of these?” she asks, holding the two drinks she brought over out to Ian. “I’m three fucking feet tall, if I drink both I’ll die.”

“Um,” Ian says.

“They’re from your bandmates,” she says, “so you probably know how likely they are to be spiked.”

“I don’t think they would be,” Ian says, “they’re pretty sure of their own ability to charm your pants off.”

The girl - Ian’s supposed to know her name, they talked before the show — snorts. “I’m sure they have a ton of luck with that.”

Macy, that’s probably her name, Ian was kind of in the pre-show headspace where she ignores everything that isn’t directly relevant but she remembers hearing the name Macy, wiggles one of the drinks, sloshes it on her hand. “Whoops,” she says, and sets it down to lick it off. She only splashed it on the back of her hand near the base of her thumb, but she sucks all her fingers into her mouth anyway.

Yeah, okay, Ian wants that drink, fuck it.

“Awesome,” Macy says, and beams. “Now it’s a party.”

*

Macy isn’t wearing much, a tiny tank top and a short skirt; when Ian puts her hands on Macy’s waist to try and keep her moving to the same rhythm Ian is, her skin is hot and damp beneath Ian’s fingers.

“Dance with me,” she’d said, after slurping at the ice to determine if her drink was actually gone. “It’ll be harder for your friends to track me down in the crowd.” Ian couldn’t tell, still isn’t sure, how serious she was about that, whether dancing with Ian really is the excuse or if she wanted an excuse to dance with Ian. Girls are fucking confusing, okay.

The way Macy moves — as long as Ian doesn’t let her get off the beat — is fucking incredible, and Ian’s buzzed and maybe a little sexually frustrated and she doesn’t actually know the rules or where the lines are when it comes to straight girls dancing with girls to flirt with guys, which is most likely what Macy’s doing. Anyway Ian is incredibly fucking turned on and she’d kind of like to know if this is going to end in sex so when Macy tilts her head back against Ian’s shoulder — she’s just a little shorter than Ian, just enough that her mouth is right next to Ian’s ear - Ian tilts her head in and presses a soft kiss to Macy’s neck, firm enough for her to feel it but light enough Ian can pretend it was an accident if Macy flips out.

Macy doesn’t flip out, Macy tilts her head and nips at Ian’s earlobe and Jesus Christ Ian is suddenly ridiculously tempted to just slide her fingers under Macy’s skirt and start this thing right here right now. It’s probably a good thing one drink wasn’t enough to override all her common sense.

“Can we get out of here?” Macy’s breath is hot on Ian’s ear; Ian kisses her neck again. “I really want to get out of here.”

“Yeah, yeah, shit,” Ian says, takes her hand and drags her through the crowd to find her band. She’s nice enough not to look smug when they all start pouting when Macy tucks herself into Ian’s lap for the taxi ride back to the hotel, but not quite nice enough not to be smug.

*

I’m usually more of a gentleman, but I had an early call time and hadn’t actually planned to stay out all night. My number’s in your phone, if you don’t call me I will totally hunt you down ♥

The scrawl at the bottom of the note is crammed between several x’s, o’s, and hearts, and looks like it might say Nick. Ian tries, with minimal success, to blink the sleep out of her eyes (and her brain). She definitely didn’t come home with a “gentleman” last night, and doesn’t remember anyone named Nick, just Macy the hot girl she danced with. Maybe her handwriting’s bad enough to make “Macy” look like “Nick”?

Ian has two text messages, one from Singer calling her a cockblocking asshole and one from someone named Nicole with a little winky face next to a little kissy face. She blinks at it a few times; it’s not until she’s out of the shower (not that she will ever, ever admit how slow she is in the morning) it clicks.

“Oh,” she says to the air, “Nicole.” Singer had introduced her as an actress, right? Macy must be one of her characters. Oh God Ian totally said the wrong name during sex at least once. Of course, Nicole couldn’t be too upset, that was an awful lot of x’s and o’s and hearts and flirty smiley faces.

Ian shrugs and finishes getting dressed so she can go down to breakfast and brag to Singer until he cries.

Re: always-a-girl!Ian/Nicole Anderson; bb lesbian shenanigans

[merelyn]

This wins everything ever, hot and yet I kind of want to coo over both of them. <3___<3

Re: always-a-girl!Ian/Nicole Anderson; bb lesbian shenanigans

[la_dissonance]

I have no response other than :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD and ;dlskfa THIS RULES.

Re: always-a-girl!Ian/Nicole Anderson; bb lesbian shenanigans

[littlemousling]

BEST BEST BEST

Re: always-a-girl!Ian/Nicole Anderson; bb lesbian shenanigans

[mayqueen517.livejournal.com]

Forever the best, omfg.

Re: always-a-girl!Ian/Nicole Anderson; bb lesbian shenanigans

[isweedan]

Heeeeeeee. <3 <3 <3

[la_dissonance]

Re: this gif, I want fic all about how Ian gets off on watching Brendon and Dallon on stage, and then maybe he and Spencer bond over their shared voyeurism (you KNOW Spencer just loves watching them all from behind his kit) and then with THIS in mind he puts on a show when Brendon's on his side of the stage, and then....sex!

(This is all stolen from fifteendozentimes's tumblr pretty much)

voyeur!Ian/Spencer + gsf

[fifteendozentimes]

I kind of played fast and loose with the prompt and then copped out of writing the porn GO ME.

~

It's good when Brendon touches him on stage - Ian felt a little guilty, at first, about how good he found it, until the third time he felt the press of Brendon's half-mast boner while Brendon crooned "goodnight" - smacks his ass just hard enough to be a tease, pets his hair and his face (Ian wonders, with increasing frequency the longer tour lasts and the more frustrated he gets, what would happen if he turned his head just a little, sucked Brendon's fingers into his mouth...), but it's better when he touches Dallon.

This feeling, the way Ian's dick perks up when Brendon goes on his toes to kiss Dallon's cheek, the hot swoop in his gut when Brendon presses a sweaty kiss to Dallon’s neck, the yes, more of that flooding the back of his mind when Brendon goes down on his knees in front of Dallon’s guitar, that’s new. Or maybe it was always there, maybe Ian was always kind of a creep and none of his other bands gave him a chance to realize it.

“You could be a little less obvious, dude,” Spencer had said, when Ian had been watching Brendon’s throat work while he chugged from a water bottle post-show.

“Uh,” Ian stammered, because, okay, he isn’t subtle, but he kind of hadn’t expected to get caught. “I was just - like - “

“I didn’t say don’t look,” Spencer said, and Ian wasn’t entirely sure that was a wink (as opposed to a, like, there-is-sweaty-hair-in-my-eye twitch) but he was totally willing to pretend it was so the situation would be maybe a little less awkward. “I said don’t be so obvious. Not that Brendon would mind, really,” he said; Ian thought about asking him to clarify, but he was halfway to the shower before the thought processed.

That had been two weeks ago, before Brendon stepped it up even more, before Ian leaned back against Brendon’s bare chest and Dallon didn’t put Brendon down until he absolutely had to, before Spencer cornered Ian before he even had a chance to fix the shirt still hanging off his shoulders and buttoned at his wrists and invited Ian to his and Brendon’s room, intent - or maybe that was Ian’s wishful thinking - clear in his eyes.

Spencer isn’t being subtle at all, now, his eyes roaming over Brendon and Dallon so intently Ian wouldn’t be surprised if they could feel it. Although they look a little too involved in feeling each other to feel the heat of Spencer’s gaze.

Spencer lets Ian strip down to his underwear - harder than it should be, since Ian can’t take his eyes off the way Brendon’s hips are rolling against Dallon’s, unless it’s to look at Dallon’s fingers tangled in Brendon’s hair or their sloppy kiss or the long lean lines of Spencer on the other bed - before grabbing his wrist and tugging him down to sit on Spencer’s lap, thighs spread wide across Spencer’s.

He gives Ian just one instruction while one hand slides down past Ian’s waistband and the other finds its way to Ian’s tight nipples, his breath hot against Ian’s ear.

“Watch,” he says; Ian does.

[sadiane]

I am lacking in prompts, but I did take THIS PIC at the Portland show :D

[la_dissonance]

Ian is the youngest (touring) member of Panic! at the Disco - who takes it upon themself to educate him in ~the realities of tour life~ when he joins, and does he go along with it, or let on that he's not as innocent as they all seem to think?

[littlemousling]

Prompt: Who is Julie and what is she checking, exactly?

INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW. Or, actually, want a fake story that is probably awesomer than the reality.

[la_dissonance]

(If you squint you can see a T at the end which makes it "Check THIS Juliet" which is a reference to Check Yes Juliet by We The Kings which is an adorable song that everyone should know btw. Still does not explain why Ian felt the need to write it on his body...)

The more fake & way more fun version takes into account that little bruise on his hip and involves Chris Colfer and some manhandling and/or intentions of hickey-making. I don't know the rest, twitter kind of got distracted with other things but it was probably 100% ridiculous whatever it was.

(this is par0xysms from tumblr btw. replying b/c this photo is highly relevant to my interests.)

[mayqueen517.livejournal.com]

Girl!Ian/Girl!Max Steger

...Do I have to have a prompt other than TINY, FLUFFY, BB GUITAR GENIUSES?

[verbosewordsmith]

Seconding! I was thinking about prompting this one, glad you got on it. Tiny bb guitar geniuses with the fluffiest hair who know the most ridiculous people <3

[mayqueen517.livejournal.com]

I'm gonna post this in both, because HNNGH:


Ian/Brendon

Breathplay

Sharp - Ian/Brendon; breathplay (NC-17 obvs)

[mayqueen517.livejournal.com]

"Do it?"

Brendon says it as a plea, at first, one that Ian feels all the way at the base of his spine. It's a hot urge, one that makes his fingers flex and Brendon shudders, hard, even as Ian rocks down into Brendon's lap. Brendon's laid out on the bed, stretched out and shirtless, skin flushed and pants unbuttoned. Ian's shirt is somewhere halfway off of the bed and on, buried under the two of them.

Straddling Brendon always brings some weird thrill to the back of Ian's throat, making him rock against Brendon. His fingers around Brendon's throat, however, is a new one.

Ian's not even sure how it ended up there, but Brendon's breathing is heavier now, deeper, like he's preparing for Ian to squeeze (and fuck, doesn't that just make something hot and heavy rear in the pit of his stomach). They watch each other, Ian's thumb sliding over Brendon's Adam's apple lazily and he can feel Brendon swallow. Their jeans make a scraping noise as Ian shifts.

"Do it," Brendon says again, this time sound more sure, more demanding and Ian blinks, swiping his thumb against his throat, just enough to press lightly. Brendon makes a noise, eyes widening for a moment and even that's enough to make Ian groan.

"You sure?" Ian asks, voice calmer than he feels as Brendon nods. He licks his lips and Ian leans down to kiss him, hot and dirty. He bites at Brendon's lips just like Brendon likes to feel him arch against Ian. Ian moans into the kiss and presses his finger into Brendon's throat.

Brendon makes a sharp whine, making Ian pull back quickly, watching him. Under him, sweat beading on his forehead, Brendon's gone still. He's gone even more still than when he sleeps (in which Brendon still kicks and still talks and sometimes even hums), and there's a part of Ian that feels possessive and sharp.

Pressing his thumb in, Brendon makes the same noise, shuddering hard even as he goes pliant.

"Tell me you're sure," Ian says, surprised at how Brendon shivers and swallows hard. His eyes are closed and Ian thinks about telling him to open his eyes right as they slide open.

"I'm sure," Brendon says and Ian presses his fingers in on Brendon's throat, easy and tentative as Brendon slowly leans his head back. Ian squeezes, just once, as Brendon's hand reaches out and clutches to the fabric of Ian's unzipped jeans.

He looks up at Ian, eyes dark and calm, trusting, and Ian has to make himself breathe carefully. He's turned on, more than he would have ever expected, watching Brendon go pliant and easy beneath him.

Ian exhales carefully and squeezes, feeling Brendon's entire body jerk for just a moment before Ian lets go, too quickly, judging from the disappointed expression on Brendon's face.

"Are you freaking out?" Brendon asks as Ian touches his chest, running his nails along the skin lightly just to see goosebumps pop up.

"Kind of," Ian says slowly, "I don't know what you want me to do other than, y'know," he says helplessly.

"Other than choke me?" Brendon says, cheerful and normal as ever, even though his hand's still curled in Ian's jeans and his eyes are still dark.

"Other than that, asshole," Ian says, laughing a little. Brendon murmurs something that Ian loses in the moment when Brendon shifts them (just enough so that Ian's off-balance) and kisses Ian hotly. They stay like that, Brendon halfway to sitting up and Ian hunched over as they kiss. Brendon bites at his lip, hard and sharp and it makes Ian shudder, shifting onto the bed properly as Brendon fits their hips together.

Brendon pulls back, leaning to graze his lips against Ian's earlobe, making him gasp as Brendon starts to talk.

"I want you to choke me while I jerk off. I think about that all the fucking time, dude. I want to feel your hand on my throat while I jerk myself off and you watch," he says as Ian moans, closing his eyes and rocking into Brendon. Their dicks grind together, sending bright and sharp sparks along Ian's spine as he groans.

Brendon grinds against him as he bites at Ian's neck, making Ian shudder hard. Heat's building in his stomach, faster and faster as Brendon licks and sucks along his shoulder. Ian's making noise in the back of his throat, noise that turns into a sharp moan when Brendon bites hard.

Ian comes with his eyes shut so tightly that his eyes actually hurt for a moment as he shudders through it. When he opens his eyes, the room's blurry and he's breathing like he just fucking ran a marathon and Brendon's lips are lightly pressing to his neck.

"I was totally planning on blowing you after you choke me, you know," Brendon says as Ian groans, pushing at him lightly as he laughs. Brendon grins and kisses him sloppily, nothing but tongue and it's dirty and Ian works a hand between them.

Brendon moans, pulling back with a grin.

"I want you to watch, though, seriously," Brendon says as Ian fits a hand around his neck lightly, just touching as Brendon drags in a quick breath, like he's surprised.

"How are you gonna tell me when to stop?" Ian asks quickly, thumb poised to press in against Brendon's pulse. It's fluttering again, like Brendon's keyed up, like Brendon after a show, and Ian swallows hard. Everything in him, still hazy from his orgasm, and tense from wanting to fucking choke Brendon is at attention.

"I'll pinch you," Brendon says just as quickly, like Ian's going to punish him for not answering fast enough.

"Okay," Ian says, leaning to push Brendon back against the pillows. Brendon's watching him with a slow grin and wide eyes as Ian returns the grin, pressing his thumb in slowly.

"Okay," Ian repeats, softly as Brendon closes his eyes, shivering even as he goes pliant and it's the best thing Ian's ever seen. A noise slips out as Ian tightens his hand, careful and slow. Brendon's entire body's vibrating as Ian clears his throat.

Brendon opens his eyes and Ian almost hisses at the wide eyes and blown pupils.

"Jerk yourself off," Ian says, roughly, feeling Brendon shudder as he pulls his dick out. Ian tightens his fingers, just enough that Brendon's hips buck, dick flushed and leaking and Ian groans at the sight. He loosens his fingers for a moment, long enough for Brendon to get a quick breath before he squeezes harder this time.

It doesn't take long for Brendon to come, and Ian wants to watch him come, wants to watch come streaking Brendon's chest and hand. Instead, he finds himself watching Brendon's face, watching his eyes slam shut and his mouth open in a soundless moan. Ian feels a stripe of come hit his arm and when he slowly releases his hand, Brendon's shivering.

He's still though, and Ian cleans him up with his discarded shirt before stripping them both out of their pants and underwear. Brendon keeps his eyes closed the entire time before Ian sits down on the bed, feeling possessive and tight as he combs a hand through Brendon's hair.

Brendon opens his eyes, grinning lazily, like he's just woken up and the way the he presses against Ian's side is completely normal. Something in Ian relaxes at that, letting him lean back into the pillows with Brendon.

"Now, that, is what I'm talking about," Brendon says, lazy and smug.

"Oh God, shut up," Ian says, laughing as they settle in bed, Brendon yawning widely as he drifts off. Ian stays away for a little while longer, rubbing his thumb over the pulse point on Brendon's neck before he settles down, grinning to himself.

[fifteendozentimes]

Ian/Zack, size kink

for additional inspiration:

[fifteendozentimes]

Ian/Brendon

It's like Ian ripping his shirt off flipped a switch in Brendon's head that turned on a giant neon sign reading IAN HAS LOTS OF SKIN AND YOU SHOULD TOUCH IT

Comeshot Twitfic [NC-17, obvs]

[fifteendozentimes]

fifteendozentimes: someone needs to come on Ian's face, just saying http://bit.ly/mQhx4l

sullen_hearts: mmm yeah while he's all kneeling and asking for it

fifteendozentimes: hnngh yes just kneeling there all hopeful, lips all red from sucking cock *___*

sullen_hearts: "please". "please what?" brendon asks, lazily stroking himself, dick standing proud of his body, mere inches from Ian's mouth

fifteendozentimes: "come on my face," ian says, "please", and he's so matter-of-fact about it, and his eyes are pleading, and brendon can't NOT

sullen_hearts: He keeps stroking himself, teasing his tip on Ian's lips, eliciting a tiny moan. He's close but he wants to savour it

fifteendozentimes: ian is SHAKING with how bad he wants it, and the way he moans when the first spurt hits his lips is almost dirtier than the way he looks covered in brendon's come

sullen_hearts: brendon just keeps coming, feeling it leave his body, listening to Ian moaning obscenely. Its like nectar, fucking nectar

fifteendozentimes: brendon runs his thumb across ian's lower lip,pushes it in to feed ian his come. ian sucks at it, greedy, arms held behind his back

sullen_hearts: licking brendon's fingers and poking his tongue to reach around his mouth. There's some in his hair so brendon rubs it away

fifteendozentimes: ian's so hard he's dripping onto the carpet, but he can't - won't - touch himself until brendon gives him permission

sullen_hearts: brendon kneels down and kisses ian, tasting himself on his lips, salty and warm. "touch yourself" he whispers "wanna watch"

fifteendozentimes: ian's frantic with it but he tries to be good, to put on a good show, arches back and pushes his hips forward to show himself off

sullen_hearts: brendon dips his head and licks up his stomach, nibbles his hip, tongues the muscle right at his groin

fifteendozentimes: ian wants to hold off, feel brendon's lips on him forever, but he barely makes it to brendon's wrapping his soft, plush lips around the head, sucking just barely hard enough for ian to feel it, before he comes so hard his vision blurs

sullen_hearts: and he's moaning gutturally, fingers tugging gently on brendon's hair, hips thrusting into brendon's mouth

fifteendozentimes: and brendon swallows it all, just as greedy as ian was, sucks and licks over the slit to make sure he's gotten it all until ian has to push him away

sullen_hearts: breathing heavily, collapsed on the carpet, completely spent

Re: Comeshot Twitfic [NC-17, obvs]

[littlemousling]

HOLY SHIT

::dead::

[fifteendozentimes]

It's Not A Transformers Fetish, I Swear; Brendon/Ian, established relationship, virginity roleplay

[littlemousling]

Brendon's surprised to find it's almost noon when he finally cracks his eyes open and scrubs the sleep out of them. Ian's gone and his half of the bed is cool to the touch, so Brendon stretches and gets up, pulls out some boxers and a t-shirt from the drawer and slips them on.

Brendon starts to hear Ian as he's padding down the stairs, very soft strums, and he can't quite pinpoint the melody or the instrument until he's in the living room, watching Ian pluck his mandolin.

He stops in the doorway and just watches for a moment. Ian's as much of a show-off as Brendon himself is, and even when they're alone, it's not so easy to catch glimpses of him when he's just being quiet, like this. What Ian's playing isn't even a full song, just snatches of things, and he's watching his fingers where he's unsure, the mandolin not as practiced for him as his guitar.

Ian had gone to sleep naked but he's dressed for their big windows, and Brendon stifles a laugh when he identifies the Transformers pajama pants he'd been sure Ian had gotten rid of last year. "You are the worst grown-up," Brendon says, grinning, revealing himself, and Ian glances up and smiles at him.

"You say that, but you're rereading Harry Potter. I'm just saying, if we're in a competition for immaturity, you're winning."

"Harry Potter is a classic," Brendon says, as haughty as he can manage it, and he crosses the room to slide in under the mandolin and get his hand on Ian's thigh. He plucks the material, soft worn flannel, and Ian laughs.

"Oh, that. Okay, yeah, these are not my most adult sartorial choice."

"Such fancy language," Brendon says, and he carefully takes the mandolin from Ian and sets it on the coffee table.

Ian raises an eyebrow at him, waiting, and Brendon kisses him, because he has to, he can't not. "Do you have any idea how you look right now?" Ian just puts a hand on Brendon's thigh and squeezes, urging him on. "You're--the beard is the only thing making me feel like I'm not some dirty pervert. You look like a dirty teenage fantasy."

"Mm-hm," Ian says, "a dirty teenage fantasy about ... making me breakfast?"

"Maybe after," Brendon grins, and then he's pushing Ian down on the arm of the couch, getting his hands under the hem of Ian's loose shirt. "You look--I want to debauch you."

"Oh," Ian says, and Brendon can hear him starting to put on a show, starting to put on a character. "I don't know if we should do that."

"You want to, though, don't you?" Brendon asks, and he cups Ian's dick, half-hard by now. "You want me to show you."

"We--we have to be quick," Ian says, grinning, "my mom will be home in an hour," and damn, Brendon loves him, the way he always just goes for it, full-out.

"What haven't you done?" Brendon asks, squeezing Ian's cock a little harder through the thin material of the pajama pants. He kisses Ian's jaw and down his neck, keeps him in place.

"Oh, I--I've done lots of stuff," Ian says. "Tons."

"I don't believe you," Brendon breathes, right up next to Ian's ear. "I think--I think no one's ever touched you like this. Have they." It's not a question, and Ian doesn't protest, just pushes his hips up into Brendon's like he can't help it. "I think you're hoping I'll show you everything."

"That--everything?" Ian asks, swallowing. "Um, what exactly is--"

"You want me to fuck you," Brendon says, and Ian groans. Brendon suspects that one wasn't a character choice. "You want me to open up your virgin ass and push my cock into you, split you open."

"Ye-yes," Ian chokes out, and he's finally remembering that he has arms, getting them up around Brendon's chest and stroking his back, like he isn't sure what to do. Brendon wonders if Ian ever considered acting as a career possibility, because he's kind of fucking spectacular, but then he's distracted by Ian's mouth on his.

"Do--do it, I want you to," Ian says, and Brendon laughs at the unsubtlety, leaves him on the couch to run upstairs for lube and a condom. By the time he gets back Ian's taken his shirt off, but he's left the hideous pajama pants. Brendon closes the curtains, watching Ian squeeze his dick a little through the pants, and then he strips and climbs back over Ian.

"Feeling shy?" Brendon asks, and slides his hand down into Ian's pants, gives him a few tugs, and then lets go to pull the pants down and let Ian kick them off. "Here--hold your knee up," and he arranges Ian as well as he can on the couch, lubes up his fingers and ducks down to lick up Ian's cock.

"Oh--oh, oh," Ian says, and it's nothing like his usual swearing and grunting. Brendon wonders if this is what Ian really sounded like the first time, like he was more surprised than anything else. "Oh, Brendon!"

Brendon stifles a laugh and starts sucking Ian in earnest, pushing a couple of fingers in because Ian isn't, at the end of the day, a virgin, and both their stomachs are starting to growl. "How--how does it feel," he says, and Ian groans.

"It's--strange," he says, "full and--big, it feels big, it--your dick is never going to fit."

"Oh, yeah, it will," Brendon says, "and you'll feel stretched and good and you'll be begging me to fuck you harder."

"Okay," Ian says, and Brendon starts stroking his prostate, just to hear him say, "okay, fuck, yes, I will, I--I will, please."

Brendon gets the condom on and strokes himself to stay hard under the cold squeeze of it, watching Ian's tongue glide over his dry lips. "You've never had a cock in you," he muses, and strokes a hand up Ian's belly.

"No," Ian says, "no--no one, just you," and Brendon sucks in a breath at how fucking hot the idea of that is, how possessive it makes him feel, and he lines up and pushes in, slow and steady.

Ian's keening, one hand on his own cock and the other thrown up over the arm of the couch, body writhing from the sensations. Brendon pauses when he's fully in, waits for Ian to ask for it.

"You can--you--fuck me," Ian says, pleadingly, and his face is--innocent and desperate and curious, fucking perfect, and Brendon can't do anything in response to that except pound him.

He fucks as hard and quick as he can, desperate rabbiting pumps of his hips, and Ian's giving just as good. It's not going to take long, but Brendon doesn't care, because he knows he'll get to fuck Ian again and again, after they've had a sensible breakfast and maybe run some errands. And then he laughs at himself for thinking about any of that stuff when he's balls-deep in Ian's tight ass, and he rocks forward and comes, shuddering.

"Motherfuck," Ian says, grinding himself up onto Brendon's sensitive cock, and he strokes himself harder as Brendon pulls out. "God--fingers," he chokes out, and Brendon pushes three into him, strokes his thumb around the stretched skin.

"You--fuck, you're so fucking perfect like this," Brendon says, "just--taking it like that, just--"

Ian's stomach muscles tighten up and he comes all over them, stroking himself through it and splattering the come higher, almost to his neck. Brendon's licking it off Ian's chest almost before Ian's done shaking.

They go back upstairs to clean up, taking the lube and the knotted condom with them, and then Brendon pushes Ian against the wall next to the bedroom door. "You're sort of awesome," he says, and kisses him until their stomachs growl.

"Like, ditto," Ian says, in full Valley Girl voice, and then, "I'll make French toast if you make lattes."

Brendon finds it hilarious that Ian is more or less afraid of their fancy coffeemaker and its many options, but if he gets French toast out of the deal, Ian never has to learn to use it. "Deal, as long as you put those pajamas back on," and Ian may be laughing at him but Brendon's pretty sure they're both going to enjoy the results.

fanboy!Ian/Spencer with bonus bodyswap! 1/2

[la_dissonance]

Ahahaha this is 5K of stuff that is not my BBB fic which I should have been writing all day, I am screwwwwwed >_<


Ian has a crush on Spencer Smith. He sort of thought it would go away once they started playing together in the same band – he knows what touring's like, a couple days of that and anyone would lose their mystique, a couple weeks and even the most innocuous habits can have you wanting to crawl out of your skin. If anything, though, being stuck in close proximity with Spencer for weeks on end does nothing but intensify Ian's ridiculous feelings, and they show no sign of abating.

Too bad that the longer Ian spends around these guys, the more apparent it becomes that Spencer really does have eyes for no one but Brendon. Ian's life is the hardest.

–

They're halfway between Cincinnati and whatever the next city is when Ian declares his nap a lost cause and wanders into the back lounge. Brendon's passed out on the couch there, glasses askew on his face and a magazine open on his chest, and Ian moves very carefully when he steals the remote out from under Brendon's arm. People who can sleep in the afternoon deserve to stay that way for as long as possible.

Ian curls himself up into the tiny corner armchair and flips through the channels, looking for something interesting. Brendon's left a mug of that gourmet Belgian white chocolate cocoa a fan gave them (and Zack actually said they could keep after deeming the seal on the box 100% un-tampered-with) on the table next to the couch, which keeps drawing Ian's eye. It takes approximately half a commercial break for Ian to decide he has absolutely no compunction against finishing it for Brendon; there's always more mix in the kitchenette and this cup will go cold before Brendon wakes up from his nap, he'd have to re-microwave it and that would just be gross –

The train of thought catches up with Ian about twenty seconds too late, as he's lowering the mug back to the table and wondering why his hands suddenly feel disconnected from the rest of his body. Well SHIT is his last thought as his head spins and the world fades to black.

–

Ian comes to with his face pressed into the rough upholstery of the couch, glasses digging into his temple and an unholy crick in his neck.

"Hey, we're almost in Atlanta," Spencer says, giving his shoulder a gentle shake. Aha. There would be the reason he woke up.

Ian adjusts his glasses and says something about as coherent as "Bwuh?"

"Because of your voice?" Spencer prompts.

"Ah, right. My voice." Ian struggles upright, clears his throat and hums experimentally, and yup, that's definitely Brendon's sleepy burr coming out of his mouth.

"The drivers said maybe twenty minutes if we don't hit traffic," Spencer says, showing no sign of realizing anything's out of the ordinary.

Ian frowns. "Where's....everyone else?" That seems like a safe enough question, right?

"Dallon's right there," Spencer says, gesturing to where Dallon's reading a book about three feet away. Dallon waves. "Last time I saw Ian he was heading to his bunk, Zack's up front."

One of these days the fact that Spencer's kind of an asshole sometimes will stop being so attractive, Ian's sure of it.

–

"Well, shit," Zack says when Ian explains the situation to him and a still-sleepy Brendon he dragged out of his bunk on the way to the front lounge.

For someone who didn't realize there was anything wrong until two minutes ago when Ian woke him up, Brendon's handling this with remarkable equanimity. "Do we have to call Pete?"

Ian's been wondering the same thing, he's pretty sure there was something about calling Pete in the mass email that went out to the label mailing list after the first time this happened.

"First we have to get through the show that's going to start in four hours," Zack says. "If we call Pete he's just going to want to come down and gawk and like, quiz you on video for hours."

"He can't just switch us back?" Ian squeaks. It's so weird not to be talking with his own voice, his ears keep telling him he has a nasty frog in his throat but clearing his throat – fuck, Brendon's throat – repeatedly isn't going to help.

"We don't have hours!" Brendon says.

"Don't you guys read your email?" Zack asks, exasperated. "There's no one way to undo a body swap, that's why it's so important to avoid letting it happen in the first place. That was the whole point of letting you all know this could happen, fuck's sake."

Brendon and Ian share a panicked look.

"Yeah," Zack says.

"So we have to...play like this," Brendon says, tone even. Ian wonders if that's how calm he sounds when he's nervous or if he's just projecting.

"That's the safest bet," Zack says. "After tonight we've got 48 hours until you play again so if you fuck up too badly getting switched back at least you'll have some time to recover."

Ian gulps.

"Think you can handle meet and greet tonight?"

Brendon nods at the same time as Ian shakes his head, and Brendon gives Ian an impenetrable look that would probably be something along the lines of Come on, seriously bro? if it was on Brendon's own face. This is going to give Ian a headache.

"Fans pay for meet and greet," Brendon says. "We can't cancel it for this."

Which is a good point, but also way more noble and selfless than Ian's feeling at the moment, while his primary emotion is still ohshitohshit. Fucking fans. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."

Zack gives them a calculating look and says, "I'll call the venue and see if I can shorten the schedule any. Then I'm calling the label and asking for a raise. You two hash out any details you need to between yourselves, alright?"

"Hey, give me my phone and I'll text Spencer so he doesn't freak out," Brendon says as soon as Zack's ensconced himself in the bunk corridor with his phone.

It takes a second for Ian's brain to catch up. "Oh, right! Sorry."

Brendon's patient while Ian pries Brendon's iPhone out of the front pocket of Brendon's too-tight jeans, and seriously, how is he taking all of this so calmly? Ian's just glad he's able to function, never mind be all responsible and proactive and shit.

"So, show in four hours," Ian says when Brendon's done texting Spencer and Ian's done replaying "so he doesn't freak out," in his mind and trying not to vividly imagine every scenario in which discovering it's actually Ian in Brendon's body would cause him to freak out.

"Which ones do you know all the words to? We can change up the setlist if we need to," Brendon says.

He sounding maybe a little nervous for the first time, which shouldn't make Ian feel better but does, and they get down to the business of figuring out how to play a show as each other without the fans noticing.

–

The show goes phenomenally well, all things considered. Brendon knows all of Ian's guitar parts because he wrote them, and Ian's heard Brendon's between-song patter enough times now that he can replicate it pretty faithfully and ad lib what he doesn't remember off the top of his head. It's fun, even, once he stops freaking out about whether he's walking right and holding the mic in an appropriately Brendon-y way and whether the audience expects him to sing to Spencer more or less than he's already doing.

Every time Ian turns toward the drum riser is a relief, though, because Spencer gives him a reassuring smile as if to say you're doing great, no one can tell! and as Spencer's the ultimate Brendon authority Ian's going to take it at face value. Spencer's all sweaty and drumming and his smiles are sort of resplendent even when he's not trying to send self-esteem beams through the air. Ian's stomach swoops every time he so much as thinks about Spencer up there, thinking about him, and he wonders if this is what it feels like to be Brendon all the time, and how much of a bad person it makes him for sort of kind of not wanting to switch back.

"I have never felt so unloved!" Dallon protests as soon as they get off stage. He pokes Ian in the chest. "You are a terrible Brendon."

"I don't know what goes on over on your side of the stage, dude! I had to make stuff up as I went along!"
"Excuses, excuses," Dallon says loftily. "You certainly played to Spencer enough. Next time I expect kisses, Ian, keep this in mind."

This earns Dallon a punch in the shoulder, and oops, that's right, Ian doesn't have to aim quite as high as he usually does. He shakes out his fist where it hit the bony point of Dallon's shoulder and is saved from further teasing when Brendon takes a running leap onto Dallon's back, causing him to stagger and nearly tip over.

"Hah! I knew you only loved me for my body, you fucker," Brendon laughs, smacking an obnoxiously loud kiss into Dallon's neck.

"We have a reputation to uphold!"

"I'll show you reputation," Brendon says, sliding a hand down Dallon's chest while attaching his mouth to Dallon's neck again, and wow, that is more than a little weird to look at.

Ian quickens his pace to catch up with Spencer. He really doesn't care what Brendon does with his body as long as he doesn't have to watch it; catching glimpses of himself out of the corner of his eye like he's been doing all night is disorienting enough.

"You were great out there," Spencer says.

Ian blushes and grins despite himself. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. I could never just pick up frontmanship on the fly like that, seriously, and you just jumped right in like you'd been doing it since forever." Spencer grins down at him like he's actually impressed, like he's not just humoring Ian but actually admires him or something, and Ian's stomach does a really interesting flippy thing.

"Nerves and blind luck," Ian says, hoping his voice doesn't sound as breathless as it would in his own body.

It's totally Brendon's body's fault the way he can't stop leaning in toward Spencer too, some kind of muscle memory thing that longterm couples must develop for each other. Ian wouldn't know, all his relationships tend to be short between-tour flings or the one only nominally physical long distance relationship they'd kept up for nearly a year because it was fun to have someone to share stories with and neither of them had any real reason to call it off. This whole not being able to stay away thing was Brendon's fault, because Ian had gotten that under control a long time ago, back when he was still in The Cab and realized it looked pretty creepy to always be drifting into Spencer's conversation circles uninvited whenever they were in the same room together.

"Were you going to shower? We checked out the facilities earlier while you and Brendon were warming up, they seem pretty legit," Spencer says.

"I..." Ian pauses. "I'll have to check with Brendon. I mean, I could definitely use one, but um."

Spencer shakes his head in something like awe. "This whole thing is a total mindfuck."

"Damn straight."
Brendon, of course, is fine with Ian bathing his body for him and doesn't really see why it would be an issue in the first place, but does the courtesy of reflecting the question back to Ian before he goes to shower.

"Yeah, as long as you don't – you know what, do whatever, it's not like I'll ever know." Privacy on tour is sort of a joke anyway, Brendon won't be seeing anything he hasn't seen before.

"Ditto," Brendon says, and gives Ian a little salute before disappearing into a shower stall.

–

It's still weird enough that Ian can't do much more than turn the water on really strong and stand under the spray, soaping up his neck and under his arms but letting the water take care of everywhere else. He does look though, feeling hot shame and telling himself he's not looking for lingering marks of whatever kinky sex things Spencer might be into doing to Brendon, he's just...looking. Dude has a great body, you'd have to be blind or straight or something not to appreciate.

There are no kinky sex marks. Ian's not sure if he should be disappointed that he imagined this facet of Spencer's personality wrong or happy that he doesn't have to deal with being even more madly jealous of Brendon's sex life. They probably just haven't had a chance recently, he settles on, ignoring the fact that last night was a hotel night and he knows Brendon and Spencer shared a room.

Ian walks out of the shower to see himself, stark naked and dripping wet, rooting through his backpack. Fuck, that's never not going to be the weirdest thing. Not as disorienting as looking down and seeing someone else's body attached to his neck, but still.

"Looking for something?"

Brendon looks up. "Yeah, where's that special conditioner you have? Do you use it every day, or?"

This startles a laugh out of Ian. "You're worrying about my hair care routine?"

"Well..." Brendon shrugs, looking at a loss.

"No, I mean, it's nice, I wouldn't have thought of it. The conditioner was in the front pocket last time I saw it, usually I just use it when I remember."

"Okay, cool," Brendon says.

"Hey Brendon?" Ian says a few minutes later, loud enough to be heard over the sound of the water. They're the only two left in the bathroom now.

"Yeah?"

"I just –" Ian closes his mouth; he has no idea what he was actually going to say. For a second he almost asks about Spencer – what Brendon and him are going to do, what any of this means for Ian – but he can't, it's too much of an unspoken subject, the words to the question Ian wants to ask too far away. "Thanks for being so cool about all of this, I guess."

"I should be the one thanking you," Brendon says after a minute. "I feel like it's my fault; I should have just made another cup, I should have been thinking. But it smelled okay, and seriously, what are the chances, and – sorry."

"It's okay," Ian says.

"We'll work something out, okay?" Brendon's words are slightly muffled underneath the water. "We'll get back to normal."

–

fanboy!Ian/Spencer with bonus bodyswap! 2/2

[la_dissonance]

Back on the bus Ian plops himself down next to Dallon, who's the only safe one here, really, and snuggles into his side.

"Hey, you," Dallon says, and Ian lifts up Dallon's arm and arranges it around his shoulders when Dallon doesn't immediately ascertain the level of cuddling Ian's after, here.

"It's a good thing I swapped with someone who's mostly the same height as me," Ian says. "I don't know if I could handle all this happening and me being like, way taller than everyone else I know."

Dallon pats Ian's hair and hums in agreement. "Great height is a burden not all of us are cut out to bear, this is true."

"Shut up," Ian says, but he's smiling.

"You know what this party needs?" Spencer asks, looking up from his ipod and pulling one earbud out.

"What," Ian prompts when Spencer just lets the question hang. He doesn't point out that it's just three people sitting on couches, hardly anything that can be called a party.

"Stay right here," Spencer says, pointing at Ian and Dallon seriously. "I'll be right back."

It's only a few minutes before Spencer returns with Brendon and Zack in tow, Zack carrying a bong that's realistically the size of a small child. Spencer looks actually triumphant, and Brendon looks a lot less worn out than Ian feels, and Ian thinks that maybe this night could end up not turning out so bad after all.

"We are going to get high," Spencer proclaims unnecessarily, as if Ian and Dallon had been waiting with baited breath for him to unveil his plan since he'd left.

"So, so high," Brendon says. "Fuck, I need this."

Zack sets the bong down in the middle of the floor and like, tests it for balance. "Party safely, dudes."

Ian rolls his eyes. Zack is the biggest dork. They're all ridiculous dorks in this band; Ian is suddenly filled with love for everyone and he hasn't even started smoking yet.

The feeling doesn't dissipate once they've all got a few good hits in their system. "I wonder if smoking up together will make us switch back – do you think Bill and Sisky tried it that time?"
"Oh my god we agreed to talk not about body-switching anymore tonight," Brendon groans, at the same time as Dallon laughs and says "Are we talking about the same Bill and Sisky that I'm thinking of?" and Spencer sits bolt upright and says "Fuck, what if it's the opposite, what if it like, cements you into the wrong bodies or something?"

Ian meets Spencer's eyes, aghast, and then somehow the way Spencer's eyebrows are lifted up so far on his face is unspeakably hilarious, and Ian breaks down laughing at them, and the absurdity of this whole ridiculous situation, how does shit like this even happen to them? And Spencer's eyebrows.

The corner of Spencer's mouth twitches and then he's off too, infectious gales of laughter that set Ian off again as soon as he pauses for air, passing the giggles back and forth until Ian's face hurts and his sides ache.

At some point while Ian's eyes are in the process of tearing up Brendon catches sight of Dallon exaggeratedly looking between Spencer and Ian and putting on his best Very Concerned Headtilt and that gets Brendon going to, high little giggles muffled by his hands.

"No but seriously though," Spencer says, once they've all managed to more or less get it together.

Ian's forgotten what they were talking about seriously before and now Spencer's fixing him in this earnest-as-fuck gaze. "Your eyes are way too blue to be allowed," Ian says, hoping this is an appropriately earnest observation.

"Seriously. Ian. What if you never switch back?" Spencer's gripping Ian's arm now, hand warm on Ian's – Brendon's – mindfuck! – bicep through his t-shirt.

"What if?" Ian asks. It seems so abstract now, a mere intellectual knot. They should stay high ALWAYS, and wow, there's one good way to develop a substance abuse problem.

"Well. You would be in the wrong body."

"Mm-hmm." Ian already knows this much.

"And Brendon would be inside that body," Spencer says, nodding over to where Brendon and Dallon are absorbed in a rapt discussion about something on Brendon's DS.

"Uh-huh." Ian knows this too.

"And then I would be – I'm kind of ridiculously attracted to that body, okay, but Brendon's in it. And that would be a little weird for Brendon, probably. And for you. And me."

"Oh," Ian says, and then "Wow. I did not know any of that, at all."

"Sorry?" Spencer says.

"No, it's, um, you should probably know I've had a crush on you since before we even met?"

Spencer doesn't say anything, just blinks slowly, so Ian rushes on.

"It's really stupid, I know, like who even does that, but I'm pretty sure it's for real. Maybe we should make out." Okay, that's definitely one of the worst things Ian's ever suggested.

"That is a great idea," Spencer says slowly, Ian takes it all back, this is the most awesome thing he's ever come up with, even if his head's still reeling like he lost track of the conversation several million turns ago. It'll all make sense tomorrow.

"But what if it doesn't turn you back?" Spencer asks.

"What? Why would you say that?"

"Because then I would never be able to kiss you," Spencer says, sounding utterly mournful.

"You could be kissing me right now," Ian points out.

Spencer eyes him sadly. Seriously, Ian cannot and does not even want to keep up with the turns of this conversation. He wants to go back to the part where Spencer wants his body and isn't opposed to making out on the floor in the back lounge.

"We could at least try? If it's not too weird," Ian amends, glancing across the room to where Brendon's still engrossed in his game, sprawled halfway across Dallon's lap. Somewhere in the back of his mind there's an alarm bell going off, something about Brendon-and-Spencer, but he ignores it.

"Weird, but I think I can handle it," Spencer says, looking grave and mischievous and like he really wants to kiss the hell out of Ian right now. "Cross your fingers."

Fuck, he really does think this might switch them back. Ian crosses his fingers and tilts his head up and Spencer scoots over into his space, adjusts his hold on Ian's arm, and slides his mouth over Ian's parted lips. His eyes are closed, but Ian tries to keep his own open even when Spencer licks over his lower lip, his mouth so soft and warm that Ian just wants to melt into the sensation, leaning into Spencer's chest, but the angle is all wrong. He keeps his palms firmly planted on the carpet instead, carefully taking in details like eyelashes and freckles and the way Spencer sighs when he pulls away.

"C'mon," Ian says, following Spencer back. "Not yet, we gotta make sure."

"Okay," Spencer huffs out a laugh and smiles against Ian's mouth when Ian crowds him against the couch behind them, sliding his fingers into Spencer's hair and taking a self-indulgent moment to rub his face against Spencer's beard. Hell, this whole thing is self-indulgent as fuck, but Ian honestly doesn't care.

They make out lazily against the couch for a slippery, indefinite amount of time, hands staying chastely around shoulder level by unspoken agreement. Spencer's thumb drags across Ian's collarbone where the neck of his t-shirt has slipped down, and Ian whines softly into Spencer's mouth, thrown out of the mood.

"Do that again," he says.

Spencer complies, with a questioning hum.
"S'too weird," Ian says, shrugging Spencer's hand off.

"What is?" Spencer doesn't let Ian pull away, just tugs him down and tucks his chin over the top of Ian's head, enclosing him in a circle of stubbly Spencer-smelling warmth.

Ian sighs and cuddles in. "That thing you did – that usually feels really good, on me, but this time it was just...nothing. I dunno. This is probably pretty weird for you, too."

Spencer's chest flexes as he shrugs. "I can't say I've gone through life without ever kissing Brendon, and this just now was not much like that. As long as I kept my eyes shut."

"Oh," Ian says, and then "Oh," as it hits him that what Spencer just said isn't the way people usually talk about their boyfriends.

"We should get you to bed," Spencer says, and Ian can hear the smile in his voice.

"Bed's good," Ian agrees sleepily as he lets Spencer untangle them and help him to his feet. "Maybe it'll change me back."

–

Sleeping does not switch Brendon and Ian back.

Zack calls Pete and Pete calls Gabe, who apparently knows everything there is to know about body swapping because he does this as a recreational activity, what the fuck, and Gabe agrees to fly down overnight and sort them out first thing the next morning and then all there is to do is wait.

They don't have a show that day, and Ian thinks he might go mad waiting through all that dead time, because Spencer keeps looking at him. Knowing that Spencer probably definitely wants to make out with him and is just waiting until he's inhabiting the right body is the worst kind of torture, because there's nothing Ian can do about it and he's 90% convinced that Spencer just decided to be attracted to him to screw him up, no matter how little actual sense that makes.

After an uncomfortably tense group lunch at an unremarkable diner, Ian and Brendon decide it's better for both of them if they stay out of public and away from each other until it's time to switch back. Ian's started getting an involuntary little twitch every time he looks over and sees his own face not attached to him, and while Brendon seems better adjusted to the whole out-of-body thing (Ian totally caught him checking out his own ass on three separate occasions), he still winces in sympathy every time he sees Ian twitch.

"You guys are heading into basket case territory," Zack informs them after he gets off the phone with Gabe. "You gotta figure out a way to keep it together for one more day, alright?"

Brendon goes directly to his bunk as soon as they get back to the bus, and once again Ian finds himself bitterly envious of those with the power to take actual naps.

"Want company, or is it better if I stay away for now?" Spencer asks.

"Probably the latter," Ian says, "But I need company worse, so don't go." No one's ever actually died of sexual tension before, right?

They spend the rest of the afternoon playing Halo in the back lounge with the volume turned up so they don't have to talk, and occasionally Ian's able to forget for whole minutes at a time the warmth radiating from Spencer's body just a foot away on the couch and how he wants to lean into it, and how Spencer probably wants him to.

Somehow the entire afternoon passes this way, and then Dallon, who apparently left at some point, is coming back weighed down with bags of takeout and most importantly, two large bottles of whiskey.

"You are a wonderful, wonderful man who deserves wonderful, wonderful things," Ian informs him, and Dallon laughs and messes up Ian's hair. "Hey!" Ian says, pushing the bangs out of his eyes.

"Just don't try and make out with me, okay?" Dallon winks.

"Ugh, that was totally different, because Spencer –" Ian makes flappy inarticulate hands and Dallon just laughs.

The takeout is delicious and the whiskey gets them drunk and no one makes out with anyone. Ian can feel Spencer's eyes on him all night and it makes him squirm, but not as much as when Spencer finally gets totally wasted and starts looking at Brendon instead, which, okay. Ian understands, he does, it's hard enough to wrap your mind around sober, but it doesn't make his stomach stop clenching up painfully whenever he catches one of those hungry looks directed at Brendon-in-Ian's-body. He ends up going to bed first, head swimming. The sooner this is over, seriously.

–

And then suddenly it is. Zack wakes them up at buttcrack o'clock saying to haul their asses out to the parking lot where Gabe's waiting. Gabe takes seriously one look at them, makes them do a move Ian had previously though only possible for breakdancers involving a lot of stretching and holding hands and being way too upside down for the amount of hungover that Ian is right now. They maintain the tremendously precariously center of gravity for about as long as it takes for all the blood in Ian's body to rush to his head before they both go toppling down, and then when they pick themselves back up suddenly everything's right again.

Ian staggers to his feet, feeling like he's catching his balance for the first time in days, and gingerly brushes gravel out of the scrapes on his own palms. It's seriously the best feeling in the world.

Brendon catches his eye and flashes him a grin and then Dallon and Spencer are whooping and rushing them and everyone's hugging everyone all at once and jumping up and down and it's great, Ian has never felt so awesome in his life.

Then Spencer fights through the tangle of arms to Ian and swoops him up by the waist, spinning him around and nearly taking out both Zack's kneecaps in the process. Ian can't stop laughing and neither can Spencer, and when Spencer sets him down his hands don't leave Ian's waist and Ian's breath catches slightly.

"Hey," he says, still grinning like a doofus.

"Hey hey," Spencer says, smiling back. "So I realize I probably should have said this way earlier, but I've noticed the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention and it's really fucking hot. You should probably know."

Ian's chest is doing stupid fluttery things and he feels his face heating up, so he tugs Spencer down to kiss him before he loses his nerve. Then of course he loses it anyway and laughs right against Spencer's lips, ruining the kiss before it even starts. Ian buries his face against Spencer's neck and just breathes in his smell.

"So it took the threat of me being stuck in Brendon's body forever for you to finally make a move, huh?"

"Well," Spencer says, stepping back so he can look Ian in the eye, "I got a little worried that I was misreading everything, so."

"You are exactly as bad at this as I am," Ian crows delightedly. "And shut up, that's totally a good thing."

"I – okay," Spencer says, grinning and brushing a piece of dry grass off Ian's arm.

They haven't been able to stop touching yet, still too happy-tense to settle but hungry for those little points of contact, and it occurs to Ian that they're out in a relatively public space, in a commuter lot next to the highway, and Gabe and Zack and the rest of their band are right there, probably watching. An appreciative catcall from Dallon confirms this suspicion.

"How about we take this back to the bus?" Ian asks, leaning into Spencer's space on the balls of his feet. "I know of a couch that's pretty empty right now and I believe I owe you a proper makeout."