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Musicians/Music Groups Fan Fiction >> Panic! At The Disco

The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.


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Don't Get Any Ideas
By dropsonroses


She ties her wavy hair into a very messy knot, shoving loose pieces into a bow clip, leaving a few tendrils loose to frame her face. She grabs a green apron and ties it tightly around her waist. “Sorry,” she shoots apologetically at her friend Jon behind the counter. Jon grins at her. “It happens to everyone,” he says mechanically. She takes her place behind the till and fixes a pleasant smile onto her face.

The first customer of the day comes through the door, a harried looking college professor in a tweed jacket with elbow patches ordering an espresso shot. The customers start pouring in after the professor is rushes out, downing his lifeline in one.

Mostly jaded college students, shaking their heads like wet dogs to rid the last vestiges of sleep, with a few more professors and a few older workers from around the neighbourhood.

At lunch time, she takes a quick break to grab a blueberry muffin and a smoothie. She's back at the counter less than two minutes when a small guy struts up to the counter. “Mocha latte, please,” he says distractedly. She gets him one, smiles, and asks if he wants anything else. He hesitates and asks quietly, “Do you know if anyone called Jon works here?” She smiles at him and calls Jon. Jon sticks his head out of the kitchen door. “Bren!” he squeals delightedly. Jon bounces over and gives the small guy a hug. “Hey, Brendon!” he says excitedly, grinning at him. Brendon smiles shiftily.

Jon leads him away by the wrist. They talk seriously, Jon leaning in slightly to Brendon. It's friendly- like the way the very best of friends greet each other. She watches curiously- hey, there's nothing else to do. Brendon looks freaked. Jon checks his watch, grins and stands up. Brendon puts a set, determined look on his face, and takes out his phone, flipping it open and shut a hundred times a minute.

The door swings open. A little taller guy comes in and orders a plain coffee. “Holy shit,” she whispers to herself. The other guy was hot, but this guy… he's very feminine, but something about his features is familiar. His nose is round, a button nose- cute, she thinks. His face is round, his eyes amber and framed by smoky black eyeliner, his hair brown and in tufts over his head. She hands him his coffee, gives him back his change and smiles weakly at him. He flashes a shy smile back at her, turning and walking away. She seizes her friend's arm and gushes about how damn hot he is. Her friend glances at his now retreating figure and tells her, “Yeah, that's… ugh, what's his name again? I don't know, but he's a model. Studying Creative Writing and English Lit. at school. He's in Madison's class.”

Ugh, she thinks. Why did I have to major in Italian and Psychology?

He turns towards Brendon, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. Her face falls. Her friend adds a careless, “Oh yeah, he's gay,” tossing some mint into a cappuccino for a bony woman next in the queue.

She mutters, “Of course.”

This Brendon is in the coffee shop every day at exactly the same time waiting for exactly three minutes for this other guy to come in. As the days go by, with the girl watching them closely, it becomes increasingly evident that they are dating.

Brendon buys two drinks each day, they greet each other with light chaste kisses in different positions every day- cheeks, necks, foreheads, lips and even once, the stunning model guy dropped a kiss on Brendon's petite hand. Brendon's cheeks flushed bright red at this, and he smiled adorably up at the other guy.

She still doesn't know his name.

Brendon speaks animatedly, using facial expressions and wild hand movements, while the other guy simply sits back and speaks, preferring a more relaxed method of communication. She could hear almost every word Brendon said. His sentences were frequently punctuated by “dude” and numerous swear words. Even though she passes their table averaging on five times a day, delivering paninis and coffees to customers too lazy to get them themselves, she never hears what the stunner was saying.

The only time I ever heard him talk was when he said ordered his coffee the first time he came in, she thinks, twisting a lock of soft brown hair around a thin finger.

Brendon is very friendly, she notes. Some days he comes in early, with a pile of sheet music and fact files on composers, and he sits and figures them out, tapping a pen against his cheek. More students have started coming in at lunch time, and he waves and greets almost everyone by name. He seems to be quite popular.

When he orders his drinks every day, Brendon chats to Jon aimlessly for a few minutes, about how his course is going (he's majoring in music) and about Jon's cats (apparently called Dylan and Clover). She takes his order, she smiles, asks him if he wants anything else, and every day he grins, says “No thanks,” winks at her and puts a tip into the tip box. Same old, same old.

But one day, Brendon is late. Very, very late. The stunner comes in, looks around confusedly and shrugs. He walks up to the counter. It seems like everything is moving in slow motion. “Hey,” he says quietly. She smiles warmly at him, thinking frantically “ohmygodohmygodohmygodican'tbreathehelpholyshithiseyesholycrapiwanttobethatbrendon.” Her hand is halfway up to her hair before she remembers he's gay and that she has no hope of doing him whatsoever. She shrugs off the thought and fixes her hair anyway.

“Um, could I have a plain coffee?” he asks hesitantly. “Sure,” she replies, using the time her face is hidden to freak over his voice. She prepares the coffee, feeling his eyes on her back. “Here ya go,” she says breezily, proud of how effortless that sounded.

He flashes a small smile at her. “Thanks,” he says, dropping a generous tip into the tip jar. She grins gratefully at him. He goes to his usual table, tapping his foot.

Brendon shows half an hour later, when the stunner's gone through three coffees in a row. She watches him carefully. His eye is beginning to twitch. She decides to ask Jon what his name is. “Jon?” she says, tapping him on his back. “Yeah?” he answers, not looking up from his chai latte. “What's his name?”

Jon glances at the model at the table in the corner, standing to greet Brendon with a kiss. “Oh yeah. The little guy, that's Brendon, he's a great friend of mine. The taller one, that's Ryan, his boyfriend,” he informs her.

He grins suddenly. “Don't be getting any ideas,” he says warningly, jokingly waggling a stubby finger at her. She flushes. “I wasn't planning to,” she mutters, mortified.

Jon laughs and pinches her cheeks. “They've been dating for a year now. It's adorable, isn't it?” She looks over at them, giggling and pressing their foreheads together, not a care in the world. She has to agree. “Yeah,” she says softly.

The next week is uneventful. Apart from a minor problem with the cash register (it may have made three guy members of staff infertile because of the way it kept springing out unexpectedly), the week is quiet. Brendon and Ryan are BrendonandRyan and causing her to break out into an inexplicable smile whenever Ryan makes Brendon blush. Brendon's the sort of guy you just want to squee, y'know? Totally adorable in a childish way.

Jon starts calling them “Ryden.”

But after a week of gooiness, there's trouble in paradise. Everything is fine, Ryan is greeted with his usual black coffee, light kisses are exchanged, until someone walks over to them. Big guy, tall and threatening.

Jon looks up from his work. His eyes are huge. Jon swears, and jumps out of the small area behind the counter. There are tears in Brendon's large, childish eyes. He's cowering behind Ryan's slightly taller but much thinner frame. The person isn't just having a friendly chat- he's spitting at them, straining against Jon's short, restraining arms. She hops out from behind the counter and firmly but politely kicks the offender out. The whole caf? is staring at the scene by now. Brendon ducks out from under Ryan's arm and gives her a hug. “Thank you,” he whispers in her ear, his voice quivering. She smiles and pats his back. “No problem.”

Ryan waits until Brendon has released her. “Thank you,” he says, taking her hand and kissing it. She blushes at how her heart jumps. Because, seriously. Get a grip. Never gonna happen. “No problem,” she repeats in a strangled tone. Jon grins at her.

The next time they come in, Brendon chats with her and Jon for a while until Ryan comes in. No-one sits in their place- it has an invisible label on it, “RyanandBrendon's table.” Ryan walks up to the counter, orders his own coffee and smiles at her. Even though she knows that there's no fucking way he'd ever go out with her, what with being so in love with Brendon it's sickening, and also, hey- he's gay and she's a girl, Ryan's smile still makes her heart skip a beat. He's just so adorable.

She just wants what they have. So, so bad.

It happens on Valentine's Day. She rushes into work, heart full of lead, flustered and sweaty, pinning her hair up quickly and tying her apron around her waist. There is a pink box of chocolates sitting on the counter, elegantly decorated with an extravagant bow. She picks them up, bemused. A slightly smaller box, wrapped in silver and with a black bow is sitting beneath them. There's a card addressed to her on the silver box. She recognises the writing- it's Jon's.

“Cassie,” it says.

Brendon and Ryan wanted me to give something to you. The silver box is from me, the chocolates are from them. To say thank you. For… well, I'm sure you remember.

As for the silver box… well. I guess I saw it and thought of you.

I hope it's not too much to ask, but would you like to come to dinner with me tonight? I have reservations at Picasso, if you would like to join me.


Her heart explodes. Jon comes in the door. She launches herself at him. “I thought you'd never ask,” she says breathlessly.

He grins happily at her and spins her around in the air. “That's awesome, Cass.”

A/N So I had this idea in my head for a long, long time. A coffeeshop!au where someone is watching them all the time. And this turned out okay, I guess. I don't know. It wasn't supposed to be Jon/Cassie but apparently I'm writing too much stuff centering on Brendon/Ryan and a friend was like, “Write something with a straight pairing for once!” and there was no way I was making a Ryan straight story or vice versa with Brendon. No way. So I did Jon/Cassie instead and I'm kinda happy with it. And so is my friend. Oh yes, I did Google “restaurants in Las Vegas.” Then I found that one, Picasso, and apparently it's Michelin starred. Jon has good taste. Anyways, I know for a Valentine's themed fic, it's a little early, but I've been sitting on this since December… I just really, really wanted to post something. Because, y'know, reviews are my crack.

I really need to rein in my A/N's.

I'm finishing off with an utterly shameless plead for reviews. ily <3


The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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