[fic] health benefits

health benefits
868 words. panic! gen; pg-13.
It's full of essential vitamins and minerals and stuff!



"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey."

"Oh, god, what?" Ryan asks, not looking up. "Sorry, guys," he says into the XBox Live headset. "Yeah, Murdowg, go hack the red terminal, I've got blue. Seriously, Brendon, you don't have to poke me. Stop that -- hey, stop standing in front of the TV, that's not cool!" Spencer summons enough energy to hit Brendon in the leg, and Brendon gets the idea and stands to the side. "Okay. Thanks, Spencer. Sorry, guys."

"Stop playing that fucking spy game, I need you to come on my face."

"I," Ryan says. The TV announces that the red terminal is being attacked! and Ryan just looks at Brendon, raises an eyebrow and tries not to laugh. "What?"

Spencer's stretched out on the floor and staunchly refusing to look at Brendon. He's also eating pretzels.

"You could do it instead, Spencer, if you want. I just need somebody to come on my face."

"No," Spencer says.

"I do not want to come on your face, dude, the fuck," Ryan says, then looks horrified -- "Don't ask, don't ask, oh my god, shut the fuck up."

"Dude, who are you talking to?"

"Murdowg."

"He's a spy," Spencer says, solemnly, breaking a pretzel into tiny pieces before eating it. "He's the best in the country. And Mexico. That's what he said right before he got shot the last time."

"Oh," Brendon says. "The headset." He stands watching Ryan play for a minute -- "So are you gonna do it or not? Seriously, jizz is like, full of essential vitamins and minerals and stuff. I read on the Internet it's great for your skin."

Spencer yawns and pulls out his phone. He's tapping away at the tiny keypad for a while before hitting the send button decisively; a few moments later the Sidekick rattles, on vibrate with the sound off for the ringer, before he flips the screen open again.

Ryan says, "Seriously, my friend here's being a fag. No, I know, it's not -- what the hell, oh god, dude saw me, shit! turn out that light there dude come on, thanks. Yeah, seriously though. He says semen's a good moisturizer. ... Bren, Murdowg says you should use your own."

"No. I want it applied direct."

"That doesn't make any goddamn sense," Ryan says. "He says no. I guess it's cheating that way. Yeah, like the mercs turning off their flashlights so I don't know where they are."

Spencer's mumbling into his phone, then he pulls it away from his ear and puts it on speaker.

"Hey guys." Jon's on the speakerphone, sounding amused. "Brendon, can't somebody just jack off in a cup and give it to you? I'll do it if they say no. Fifty cent surcharge for the cup, though."

"I already said no! That's not how it works."

"Oh, okay." Spencer turns off speakerphone and rolls over onto his back to talk to Jon.

Ryan says, "Fuck, I got killed again. Sorry, guys. The mercs are good. What, no, I don't -- I'm not a noob, I'm famous. What? No, I am. I'm not -- you'd just give out my handle, dude, no. I've got stalkers. Why would I lie? Because I'm -- just because I'm insecure doesn't mean I'm a liar. Bren, get your hand out of my pants. What?"

"Dude, Ryan, you can't say you're famous," Spencer says. "You're just gonna end up sounding like that kid saying he's number one. Does the other guy have a headset?"

"I don't know. Oh, hey, he just -- sweet." Ryan puts the controller down and pulls off the headset and knees Brendon in the stomach.


"Hey! You didn't have to do that, that's unfair. That's unfair."

"Life is unfair," Ryan says. "That's a cliche. But it's true."

Brendon says, "So will you make it up to me by coming on my face?"

Ryan snorts.

Brendon says, "We can make out first, if you want. I would go down on you if it meant you'd do it."

"Are you serious?"

Brendon pumps a fist in the air, crowing triumphantly. Spencer throws a pretzel at him.

"Asking if you're serious doesn't mean -- no, dude, that's fucking gross. Seriously. Mothertrucking gross."

"Haha, you said mothertrucking."

"Thanks for being able to hear."

Spencer says, "So hey, can I play now?" and Ryan tosses the controller to him. Brendon thumps down onto the sofa next to Ryan, drawing his legs up close.

"Hi, I'm cold," Brendon says.

"Oh, okay."

"You know what you could do to help," Brendon says, and Ryan just says, "I'm not gonna come on your face."

"I was going to say you could grab that blanket over there and let me have part of it."

"Jesus."

"You're gonna make me -- it's not going to be my fault when I have to have my face covered in Pete Wentz's semen. It's your fault. You're the only one to blame. Only ones," he says, snaking out a foot to poke Spencer in the ass. Spencer snorts, but ignores him in favour of the scintillating conversation of the game lobby ("yo, firecrotch, hit ready. Wait, your name's firewatch? Whatever.").

"Pete Wentz is not going to come on your face, dude."

"Oh, he will. He so will."