| Entry tags: | brendon/ryan, cobra starship, fall out boy, gabe/vicky-t, gym class heroes, jon/spencer, panic at the disco, pete/patrick, the academy is, william's bakery, william/travis |
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justhush
You guys. I just wrote an epic bakery AU in like, four hours. What the hell.
Title: Frosted Friends and Business Ventures; William's Bakery
Author: lemmethink_nooo
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: William/Travis, Pete/Patrick, Brendon/Ryan, Jon/Spencer, Gabe/Vicky-T
Disclaimer: I own no one and nothing.
Summary: William owns a bakery in Chicago. AU. Has characters from Panic, TAI, GCH, CSS and FOB.
Author's Notes: justhush wasn't feeling well earlier, and I decided to write her something. And then I just went with it. This seems to be the product.
Frosted Friends and Business Ventures
William always wanted to be a baker. When he was little, and his mom would be making cookies for his brothers, little William would tug at the hem of his apron and stare up at her with big brown eyes. She would always take pity on him, and let him stir the batter.
Throughout high school, every Friday night William would create a new recipe. Instead of going out and getting wasted with his classmates, he would test out the merits of coconut extract versus vanilla, and how dark chocolate chips meshed with smooth blueberry sauce.
In college, he made cookies and cakes and other sweets for his friends, for birthdays and study parties and even just the occasional Very Bad Day. All of his best friends had their own recipes named after them.
Jon Walker’s Mississippi Mud Bars; Sisky’s Jack Daniels-and-cream pound cake.
The day William graduated college, he withdrew the entirety of his savings account and bought the empty space down the street from the local diner.
**
It takes a few months, but eventually Beckett’s Bakery is up and running. William does everything, from baking to financing to mopping floors, and he’s never been happier.
His friends pitch in to help, too – Mike Chislett comes in on weekends and helps William organize the receipts from the week, Patrick runs the cash register every afternoon from noon until closing (whenever that may be) and Brendon.
Well. Brendon possibly makes more of a mess than anyone else in the shop, but they all still love him. Possibly because he has a proficiency for accidentally streaking his dark brown hair with flour, and then talking in a French accent: his favorite thing to do is wander over to Ryan and nuzzle his shoulder, proclaiming that “I am Pepe Le Pew, and I love you!”
Ryan’s not actually friends with any of them. He comes in with Spencer pretty much every day, though. Spencer always manages to come in approximately twelve minutes after Jon arrives, fresh off of his shift from the ‘Bucks and on the verge of selling his soul for one of William’s sugar cookies.
It’s a strange coincidence. Truly.
William never has the heart to point out Spencer’s blush when Jon offers him a bite of his cookie.
**
Gabe (William’s roommate-cum-unlikely-best-friend) comes in sometimes, if he’s bored and there don’t seem to be any cobras lurking the streets of Chicago. He brings Vicky every now and then, which makes everyone happy – Vicky is petite and beautiful, but packs a mean right hook and isn’t afraid to give Gabe a vicious tongue lashing. All of the boys think it’s awesome when she schools him. They cheer.
There is a bakery-wide betting pool on when Gabe and Vicky will hook up. Currently, Mike Carden is winning – his bet is Valentine’s Day, and it’s currently November.
Brendon wants their first kiss to be New Year’s Eve. He’s holding out this same hope for him and Ryan. And Jon and Spencer. Oh, and Pete and Patrick.
(It should be pointed out that, technically, Brendon is winning the pool. But he was raised Mormon and, despite his rebellion, some of the teachings still hold true in his mind. He doesn’t gamble.
He also has another cute trait in this same vein. They all figured it out when Brendon had announced that, no, he wasn’t going to bet, but he was still going to manage to whoop all of their A-S-S-es.
Yes. He actually spelled it out. Brendon doesn’t like to swear, apparently.)
Pete, they all legitimately met randomly. He came into the bakery one day, looking wind-blown and slightly worse for wear. William had clucked and sat him down in a booth before producing a plate of brownies and a massive, hand-painted mug of warm milk.
If Pete weren’t so desperately in love with Patrick, he would probably propose to William on a daily basis.
**
William gets flustered during the Thanksgiving rush. Suddenly, his public wants pie. What the fuck.
Pies take a long time. He has to hand-make the crust, and then make all of the different fillings, sometimes whip large batches of meringue, and God forbid that someone accidentally reset the temperature on the oven – Brendon almost lost his job.
Not to mention his life.
William decides to close the shop for the weekend after Thanksgiving. He’ll lose some money, yeah, but he’s now at the point where he wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, wondering how the hell he’s going to pull a chocolate-caramel-pecan pie off when he’s totally out of pecans.
He’s in a bad state of mind.
That first glorious day off, William just lies on the sofa, watching HBO with Gabe. It’s wonderful. He even lets Gabe watch “Snakes on a Plane”, at least until Gabe launches himself at the television and presses his forehead to the screen, claiming that he’s communing with his reptilian counterparts.
William pauses to wonder if snakes are actually reptiles before he shuts the television off.
It’s then that Gabe mutters, “Fuck this shit. I’m going to Travis’.”
And, wait. How does William not know who Travis is? He’s known Gabe for, like, ever (ever meaning the last three years) and has never heard tell of anyone named Travis.
He’s left to ponder the question when Gabe marches out of the apartment, grabbing his hoodie before he makes his exit.
William sits back into the sofa cushions and wonders aloud: “Travis?”
**
Travis, it turns out, is a huge guy with a formidable afro. He has somewhat of a unibrow and literally blocks some of the light in the bakery, but – wow. William’s pretty much sold.
He pushes Patrick away from the register – “What the fuck, Bill, seriously, I nearly fell on Brendon.” Brendon whimpers at the thought of his almost-death – and beams at him. “Hi, welcome to Beckett’s Bakery. How can I help you?”
“Are you William?” Travis asks, and, okay, hottest voice ever.
William nods dumbly before managing to clear his mind enough to choke out a “Yeah”.
“Travis.” He sticks his hand out, and William nearly swallows his tongue. “I’m friends with Gabe.”
William takes his hand and knows that his cheeks must match his hair right now. The smirk on Chislett’s face confirms this fear.
Travis ends up ordering three loaves of bread – he’s having a party tonight, would William like to come? – and, upon Brendon’s pressing, a box of William’s famous lemon sugar bars.
About five minutes after Travis leaves – “Don’t forget, tonight, seven PM, Gabe knows where I live” – William springs back into life, screaming, “Shit! Fuck! What the fucking hell do I wear?” His eyes go wide and he looks around the bakery, before they settle on his target. “Spencer Smith, help me!”
**
Spencer and Ryan end up helping William get ready. Brendon tags along, too, because where Ryan goes, Brendon follows. And sometimes, if he’s not invited, he goes anyways and lurks behind shelves.
Brendon really likes Ryan.
They send him out the door at approximately six forty-nine, with typed and obscenely precise directions to Travis’ apartment. He doesn’t look much different than normal, except there’s no flour in his hair or chocolate smeared across his cheek. He wears his best pair of tight jeans and a striped tee shirt, with his leather jacket swung on for good measure.
Ryan also insisted he wear eyeliner: “Come on, Will, just a little bit, it’ll bring out your eyes.” Brendon hid his grin against the shoulder of his own tee shirt; he loves the intricate patterns that Ryan draws on his own face, swirls of purple and blue with silver. It makes Ryan look pretty, and that’s alright in Brendon’s book.
**
The party is interesting, to say the least. Jon’s there, which is good – William will have to remember to tell Spencer – and so is his friend Tom, who is beautiful in every sense and also tells possibly the funniest stories William has ever heard. He makes a mental note never to let Jon near his refrigerator.
Travis slings a casual arm around William’s shoulders and introduces him around as “Gabe’s roommate, clearly a fucking tolerant man”. William blushes every time, but makes no move to unseat Travis’ arm.
**
William is accosted the next day at work. Literally accosted, because as soon as he walks through the door Brendon jumps on his back and climbs him like he’s some sort of vertical jungle gym.
Ryan smiles ruefully at William and urges Brendon to get down, please, tugging at his shirt. William shares a put-upon look with him, and – hey, wait. Ryan’s here, but Spencer’s not? The fuck?
He gives Ryan a speculative look until the skinny boy shrugs. “He, um, grew on me?” Ryan offers, looking at Brendon.
Brendon beams and throws his arms around Ryan’s neck. “Ryan agreed to be my friend!” he proclaims, and Ryan sighs.
“It’s like playing caretaker for a hyperactive lemur,” he mutters, rolling his eyes when Brendon presses his nose into the curve of his neck.
Wow. They are definitely the newest subject of the Bakery betting pool, William thinks to himself. He totally has dibs on Christmas, too, fuckers – and this time he actually will fight Pete for it, if it ends up being necessary. Maybe he’ll talk to Patrick about it, first.
“Anyways, how was it?” Brendon asks, all wide-eyes and messy hair, as he disentangles his limbs from Ryan.
William shrugs, running his hand through his hair shyly. “It was fun. I met a lot of cool people. Jon was there, too, so, uh. Yeah.” He nods and then shrugs again. “I’m gonna go open shop now,” he proclaims, ducking away from any more questions they might have for him.
**
Spencer, predictably, practically falls out of his chair when William tells him that Jon was at the party. He rights himself quickly, though, and smoothes his face over. “Oh?” he asks, looking mostly uninterested. “That’s nice.”
Rolling his eyes, William walks away, muttering under his breath about how everyone in this fucking bakery needs to remove their heads out of their asses and fall in love, thank you.
Clearly, he is the exception to this proclamation.
**
Brendon decides to hang mistletoe around the shop on the second Friday of December, exactly two weeks before Christmas. He hums Christmas songs to himself as he does this, making his way around to every threshold in the place and tacking up a spiny piece of shrubbery.
William suspects that some of it’s not even mistletoe. He reminds himself to Google Image Search it later.
No one is surprised when the first to fall victim to the mistletoe are Pete and Patrick. Or, well. Pete walks in, goes to harass Patrick by the cash register, and spots the mistletoe. He lets out a squeal and grabs Patrick’s hand with a “Look, Trick, mistletoe!”
Patrick looks maybe like he wants to die, but allows himself to be pulled under the doorway anyways. He does manage to turn his head when Pete lunges at him, though, and only ends up with a sloppy Pete-print on his cheek. All in all, the experience went a lot less worse than it could have.
William thinks he sees Brendon eyeing Ryan several times, looking like he wants to do the same thing, but every time it looks like he’s finally going to walk over, Ryan pulls out his Sidekick and Brendon’s shoulders sag. He knows better than to interrupt Ryan’s Important Business.
(Brendon also likes to capitalize things. None of them are convinced that it’s a lingering effect of Mormonism.)
**
Adam T. Siska comes back to town the following Tuesday. He’s been away, traveling the world in pursuit of what he refers to as “inner peace” but everyone else is convinced is actually “legalized hallucinogens”, and it’s a rare treat to have Sisky home for a visit.
Of course, his first stop – besides his mom’s house, because she’d probably castrate him in his sleep if he let his priorities slip – is the Bakery.
He arrives with much fanfare (Brendon even pulls out a Kazoo, but puts it away when Ryan pats his hand and says “Maybe later”) and vaults over the counter to hug William. He makes his rounds to everyone in the shop, hugging those he knows as well as those he doesn’t, and introduces himself to any unfamiliar faces.
William makes him a special cake to go along with his Jack Daniels-and-cream pound cake. It’s an elaborate cake of chocolate and peanut butter and cream filling, and Sisky looks so grateful when it’s presented that even Patrick tears up a little bit.
It says “Welcome Home, Sisk,” on top in white icing. Everyone in the bakery cheers and claps William on the back, telling him that it’s by far his best thing yet.
**
Travis comes in again on Friday. William’s in the back, alternating between kneading loaves of bread and adding cups of sugar to the meringue, and he’s not happy when he hears Patrick call, “Will! Customer!”
He lets out a groan and wipes his hands on his apron, marching out to the front. “Patrick, seriously, I’m busy,” he mutters when he gets out to the register, and. Oh.
William blinks up at Travis owlishly. “Hey,” he says finally, snapping out of his reverie.
Travis nods. “I didn’t hear from you after the party, so I figured.” He trails off, biting his lip.
William raises his eyebrows. “What? No, I didn’t have your number. I wanted to call, it was so much fun, thank you so – ”
He gets cut off when Travis holds out a bouquet of flowers. Roses.
William stares at them. “Um,” he says, ever eloquent.
Patrick clears his throat and walks towards the kitchen, gesturing for Brendon and Ryan to get the fuck out of dodge.
Travis grins at William. “So, I like you,” he begins, blushing a little bit behind his glasses.
It’s suddenly kind of hot in the bakery, and William wishes he had developed a childhood interest in, like, ice cream making, because then his place of work would always be really fucking cold, only right now he has to deal with the heat of the ovens and the mechanical heat of the mixers, not to mention the intense blush that’s currently creeping its way up his neck.
“You do?” he croaks, wide-eyed.
Travis nods. “Yeah, I do. Do you want to go out to eat tonight?”
And it’s all William can do to nod and take the flowers from Travis’ still-outstretched hand. In the back of his mind, he thinks he hears Pete let out a cheer, but he can’t be sure; everything kind of resembles white noise right now.
“Yeah,” he manages finally, nodding again. “Yeah.”
Then Travis is beaming, and suddenly he leans across the counter to kiss William softly on the corner of the mouth and, yeah, that was definitely Pete cheering. Brendon, too, and probably the entirety of his pseudo-staff.
When Travis has left and William is still staring at the spot where he had stood, Brendon saunters over and grins smugly. “It was totally the mistletoe,” he announces, slinging his arm around William’s shoulders, and Ryan flicks his ear.
**
Christmas is officially in five days, which means that the unofficial Bakery Holiday Party (Brendon insisted they be politically correct) is in four.
The entire staff is in somewhat of a tizzy. Gabe had suggested they do Secret Santa – which, by the way, why does he have any authority? He doesn’t even work there – and so now they’re all trying to out-gift one another.
Pete grabs the hat with the name-slips in it before anyone can draw and rifles through it until he finds Patrick’s name. He slips it into his pocket and then finds the slip of paper with his own name on it. He grins when he presents Patrick with this, and says, “I have a dog named Hemingway. And I wear a size medium shirt.”
Patrick laughs and shakes his head fondly.
William, luckily, ends up with Mike Carden. This makes his life easy. Carden has been talking about the pair of Nike Dunks he’s wanted for practically three months. William’s gift is practically taken care of, all he has to do is buy the damn things.
Ryan rigs the system – with William’s whole-hearted consent – so that Spencer gets Jon for Secret Santa.
Jon legitimately gets Spencer, for the record. There was no Ross-finagling involved whatsoever. Jon Walker plays by the rules.
It doesn’t surprise anyone when Brendon starts snooping around, asking who everyone got. Later, Sisky takes him aside and slips the piece of paper with Ryan’s name on it into Brendon’s palm. Brendon beams so wide he almost hurts himself, and hugs Adam hard enough that he actually does hurt Sisky.
This is totally the best Christmas ever, William thinks to himself when he gets home that night. Gabe nods at him and smiles. “It does seem to be shaping up nicely,” he agrees.
When William asks Gabe what he got Vicky for Christmas, the only response he receives is a stern shake of Gabe’s head.
“It represents my love,” Gabe murmurs, biting his lip bashfully. William cannot remember a time when he ever saw Gabriel Saporta look shy. He’s speechless.
**
They close up early on Christmas Eve, and everyone gathers in the front of the bakery to do Secret Santa. Brendon insists that they pull all of the chairs into a circle and go one-by-one around until everyone has their gift. He positions himself, luckily, to go last.
Patrick goes first, and hands Pete a perfectly-wrapped rectangular box. Pete looks like he’s about to burst with happiness and tears the wrapping paper off, eyes going wide.
“Oh, Patrick,” he coos, pulling out the deluxe edition, re-released version boxed-set of all of the Star Wars movies. He looks over at Patrick, face shocked, and silently climbs into his lap, rocking back and forth slowly. “I think I love you,” he whispers honestly, soft enough that only Patrick can hear.
Patrick beams and strokes his hand over Pete’s spine. “You too, Petey.”
Pete wiggles his shoulders and grabs his present for Patrick. “I hope you like it.”
Patrick sighs and rolls his eyes, opening the box. “Wait, seriously?” he asks, raising his eyebrows, because Pete.
Pete got him the exact same thing.
Everyone in the circle aww’s at that, and Pete just keeps grinning at Patrick like he invented the sun and that freeze-dried ice cream that Pete loves.
It’s William’s turn next, and he thinks Mike looks like he’s going to pass out when he opens the shoes. “You are my favorite, seriously,” he cheers, toeing off his old sneakers and replacing them. He admires his new feet silently.
William’s gift comes from Ryan, and it is such a Ryan Ross gift – it’s a music box, carved with patterns similar to those adorning Ryan’s cheekbones, and William grins and thanks him profusely. It really is beautiful, if a little odd. Again, just like Ryan.
Spencer’s turn comes two rounds later, after Chislett has given Sisky the season sets of The O.C. for his travels, and Carden gave Chislett a year’s subscription to Alternative Press and NME.
Sisky gives Brendon a massive box of candy. There’s a chorus of groans around the circle as Brendon unearths the Jumbo Pac of Pixie Sticks.
Spencer doesn’t actually say anything when he gives Jon his present, just hands him the package. Jon’s jaw goes slack when he opens it, and Brendon nearly falls out of his chair trying to see what it is.
Jon pulls out the digital camera and looks at Spencer in awe for a moment, before proceeding to put it together. He snaps a picture of Spencer rubbing the back of his neck, smiling against himself, and decides that there’s no better image to christen his camera with.
He smiles at Spencer when he hands over his gift. “Now, Spence, pay attention to it,” he advises, raising his eyebrows seriously. Spencer nods, and furrows his eyebrows when he opens it.
Jon gave him…a coffee machine?
“Open it, Spencer Smith,” Jon laughs, and Spencer seriously wants to record Jon saying his name and listen to the way he lisps a little bit around the S’s. He wants to play the tape every night before he falls asleep.
He might be a little bit in love with Jon.
Spencer follows instructions and opens the box, frowning when he discovers that it’s empty but for a gift card envelope. He reaches in and opens the envelope. There’s a note attached to the gift card:
This card entitles you, Spencer Smith, to a lifetime of free coffee, as made by Jon Walker, anywhere, anytime.
P.S. I also do home delivery. I am a morning person. Please consider my offer to make you coffee every morning. Forever. In your home.
Spencer cocks his head, reading it over again. Wait. What?
Jon smiles at him, calm and cool as usual. “Can I wake you up with coffee every morning, Spencer Smith?” he asks softly.
Spencer blinks at him. Jon wants to come to his apartment every morning and bring him coffee? That’s kind of odd.
Ryan lets out a sigh. “You are such a dumbass, Spencer, oh my god,” he mutters, burying his face in his hands. And – oh. Oh.
“Oh,” Spencer breathes, eyes wide. “Yes.” He nods spastically. “Fuck yes.”
Jon grins and maybe shifts so their knees are touching. If he does, no one comments on it.
It’s Brendon’s turn now, and he looks at Ryan shyly. “I, um,” he stammers, one leg bouncing uncontrollably. He twists his hands in his lap. “I bought you this,” he says finally, pulling the package out from under his coat.
Ryan smiles reassuringly as he takes the gift, unwrapping it slowly, deliberately. He grins and looks up at Brendon when he’s unwrapped it completely – it’s a leather journal, a curly, gold “RR” embossed on the front. Ryan reaches out to squeeze Brendon’s hand when Brendon pulls him into a hug, whispering, “You should, um. Open it?”
Nodding, Ryan waits until most of the attention is diverted before opening the book. He tilts his head at the inscription.
Write about the things you love, it reads, and it’s signed xoxo Bden.
Ryan grins and squeezes Brendon’s hand again. “Thank you, Bren,” he says earnestly, nodding his head. “So much.”
He can’t figure out why Brendon looks a little bit crestfallen later. And it’s not like Brendon will ever tell him that maybe, just maybe, he wanted Ryan to write his – Brendon’s – name down on that first page. That he wanted to be one of the Things Ryan Loved.
The actual Christmas party isn’t set to start for two more hours, so they all disperse to go home and change.
**
William arrives with Travis on his arm, twin smiles on their faces.
The party has already begun to wind up, and Brendon wastes no time on climbing onto Travis’ back. “Hi,” he grins, resting his chin on Travis’ shoulder. Travis just laughs and pats Brendon on the head, and William’s a little bit proud at how fast he’s learned the dynamic.
Gabe gets there with Vicky a little bit later, both looking like they’re going to prom. Gabe’s sporting a powder blue suit that no one else could ever pick out, and Vicky looks sultry as ever in her little pink dress. She seems to be touching Gabe gently, though, which is different.
William pulls him aside and asks him about it. Gabe smiles. “That’s my Christmas present to her, man.” He nods, gesturing for William to follow him into the kitchen. He unbuttons his shirt and pulls it open, and there it is.
Right on top of Gabe’s heart, there’s a fresh tattoo. It’s a cobra, obviously, but it’s curled into the shape of a heart around the word “Victoria”. And, wow, this is the second time Gabe’s left William speechless in one week.
Pete steadfastly refuses to leave Patrick’s side. When anyone asks, he leans toward them – hand still gripping Patrick’s tightly – and whispers, “We’re in love,” conspiratorially. Patrick blushes and shakes his head fondly.
When Spencer walks in, Jon beelines towards him and pushes him back under the mistletoe. “Merry Christmas, Spencer Smith,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around the younger man’s neck and kissing him softly. He turns his head slightly so their noses don’t bump, and Spencer gasps.
They both walk around a little starry-eyed for the rest of the night.
Ryan walks in and scuffs his feet when Brendon makes a point of not looking at him. He sighs and lets out a growl, walking towards Brendon and grabbing his elbow. Brendon yelps but Ryan doesn’t let go, just pulls him away from the crowd and shoves something at him.
“Look, okay, I’m really bad at this shit, and I don’t know what you want from me, but all I know is that the entire time I was at home I couldn’t get your fucking sad face out of my head, and then I went to write about it in the journal and that’s what came out.” Ryan points accusingly at the book, and Brendon raises his eyebrows.
“Just fucking open it,” Ryan mutters, rolling his eyes.
Brendon shrugs and flips to the first page, looking down. He sees a bunch of doodles of suns and moons and swirls, and then – oh, hey, that’s his name.
In a heart.
Ryan Ross doodled Brendon’s name inside of a heart.
Brendon looks up at him and grins, snapping the book closed. “Do you love me, Ryan Ross?” he asks softly, cheeks pink.
Ryan nods, looking for all the world like someone just killed his puppy. Brendon lets out a squeal and launches himself at Ryan, not even bothering to get him under the mistletoe before shoving his tongue down his throat.
Ryan looks more than a little flustered when Brendon lets go of him, but quickly looks horrified when Brendon stands up on the counter, ignoring William’s pleas of “Not the fucking counter, Brendon, people eat on that!”
Brendon clears his throat, gesturing wildly even though everyone in the room is already looking at him. “I just wanted you all to know that Ryan loves me!”
The room is silent, and then Mike Carden rolls his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock,” he calls, and then the chatter starts up again.
The End.
(Almost.)
They all get together to celebrate New Year’s Eve. It’s cheesy, they know, but the Bakery has taken on an entirely new level of importance in the last two weeks.
Pete starts up the chant as the ball begins to descend in Times Square, and soon everyone joins in.
When they hit four, Ryan grabs Brendon’s hand, Jon grabs Spencer’s hand, William grabs for Travis, and Pete winds himself around Patrick. Gabe and Vicky are nowhere to be found.
At midnight, all of the couples kiss, all of the singles hug, and a unified roar is emitted from the bunch.
When the noise subsides, they stare at each other for a moment. Everything seems different, now. The bakery crew is silent for what seems like an eternity, and then, from somewhere else in the bakery:
“Ow, Vicky, don’t fucking punch me!”
They laugh, and everything seems right in the world.
Holy shit. That was my first AU ever, and also my first completed anything that was more than, like, ~1,500 words. Wow.
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bandaids_hmm,
