Ryan/Brendon. Panic at the Disco slash. Fluff.

A happy grin widely stretched across a face topped with brown hair, red-framed glasses tilted on his nose. "Ryan! Ryan! I wrote a song!" Brendon bounced. Ryan smiled at him. Sure, Brendon often helped write lyrics, but Ryan did most of the writing. Brendon wrote an entire song?

"Can we put it on the CD?" Brendon shoved the scribbled and torn sheet of paper an inch away from his nose. "We haven't even started recording yet," Ryan said as he took the paper from his friend and held it the right amount away from his face, reading.

Back the street where we began,
feelin' as good as lovers can, you know.
Now we're feeling so good.

Pickin' up things we shouldn't read.
It looks like the end of history as we know:
It's just the end of the world.

Ryan glanced up at Brendon's face, that elated smile still plastered on his features. "Well, well?" His eyes widened at the thought of Ryan's opinion. "Uh, I gotta finish reading it..." He told him. "Right, totally, sure." Brendon drummed his fingers on his pantleg impatiently.

Back to the street where we began,
feelin' as good as love, you could, you can.

Into a place where thoughts can bloom;
into a room where it's nine in the afternoon.
And we know that it could be.
And we know that it should.
And you know that you feel it too.

Cause it's nine in the afternoon,
and your eyes are the size of the moon...

Not horrible lyrics, in all honesty, Ryan thought after he had finished. Just... not what their band, Panic at the Disco, was going for in quality for their new album. A Fever You Can't Sweat Out had been such a massive hit, they had to follow up with something better. He knew that if he had written it, the song (Nine in the Afternoon was scribbled at the top of the sheet of paper) would have been scrapped, or started over.

He looked up at Brendon again- his expression. Why did he have to look so happy and bubbly and... painfully cute? "Does it have a tune?" Brendon blinked, "Not yet. I was hoping you could help with that part!" Ryan sighed and shook his head, staring down at his feet clad in blue sneakers. Then, smiling as real as he could manage, he looked back up at Brendon, thinking, "Nothing to worry about. I can work with this. I can work with this."