Jon Jacob...

by Dira Sudis

Notes:
Disclaimer: Lies and damned lies, but at least no statistics.

If you found this page by searching the Internet for fanfiction about yourself or people you know personally, a) knock that off, man, it's bad for you, and b) you have only yourself to blame if you don't hit the back button right now.

Beta thanks to Iulia Mentis!


Brendon came into the front lounge looking like he'd just had a revelation.

"Jon," he said. "Jon."

Jon looked up, and so did Spencer; they were sitting on the couch, pressed together for warmth, or so that they could argue without Ryan complaining about having to listen to them, or just because leaning on each other was comfier than leaning against anything else.

"Jon," Brendon repeated. "When you and Spencer get married, you have to hyphenate your name."

Spencer frowned.

Jon got it a second faster. "Oh, Brendon, do not even--"

"Because then you'll be Jonnn-athan-Ja-cob-Walker-Smith, his name is your name toooo," and by then it was too late. Nobody could avoid hearing Brendon sing it at full stage volume. Ryan yelled something unintelligible from the bunks, but nobody paid any attention.

Jon looked at Spencer. "That's it, we have to break up right now. I can't go through life as Jonnnn-athan Jacob Walker-Smith."

He couldn't even help it; now that Brendon had sung it at him, he pronounced his own name in that stupid cadence, emphasis falling on the wrong syllables. It didn't help that Brendon was still standing over them, humming.

"You could just take my name," Spencer said helpfully. "Then you'd be Jon Smith, that's kind of cool."

Jon wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, maybe if I was hiding out from the Mob or something. You could--"

Spencer wrinkled his nose right back, and even Brendon stopped humming to shake his head.

"Wow, no," Jon said. "Spencer Walker is just not an option at all, is it?"

Spencer shook his head. "It's really not."

Jon looked up at Brendon again. "Well, there you go, we'll just have to break up. You've destroyed our epic romance. Happy?"

The funny thing was that, just for a second, Brendon actually did look apologetic. Then he grinned and said, "Ha! My work here is done!" and disappeared back into the bunks. Ryan yelled something unintelligible as Brendon stormed through, but nobody paid any attention.

Jon stared after Brendon for a second, and then shrugged and settled himself against Spencer more comfortably.

"All I'm saying is that if a person is really committed to flip flops, as a lifestyle choice, then it makes sense for them to wear flip flops in places other people would not."

Spencer groaned, burying his face against Jon's shoulder as he shook his head. "Oh my God, Jon, no. Flip flops are not a valid lifestyle choice."


Jon caught up with Brendon later, cornering him in the back lounge while Spencer and Ryan were up front making sandwiches.

"Hey," he said, in a perfectly normal, conversational voice. "You know, usually when two people are dating, one of them doesn't make helpful suggestions about how the other one should change his name when he marries one of their friends."

Brendon didn't look away from the TV, and his voice was casual even as Jon curled up close to his side--not as close as he'd been to Spencer, but still close. "Well, I thought we were being discreet."

"Mm," Jon said, his hand settling on the nape of Brendon's neck. He hadn't been actually touching Spencer, just leaning on him.

"Well, I thought that you knew I'm crazy about you and you don't have to be jealous of Spencer and lose your mind in song form when I'm hanging out with him. So I guess we were both wrong."

Brendon opened his mouth to argue about the word jealous and also about the idea that he had lost his mind in any form at all, but Jon's hands were both on his neck now, warm on Brendon's skin. Jon's thumbs dug into his shoulders a little, and Brendon found he didn't really have anything to say after all. His eyes closed, and his chin dropped a little bit as Jon kept touching him.

"You wanna get married someday?"

Jon's hands tightened and he quickly added, "I mean, I'm not proposing, not me necessarily, I'm just--do you? Someday, to somebody?"

Brendon's eyes had popped open at Jon's first question, and now he stared steadily out the window. He said, "Um," like he hadn't already thought about whether the kids should be Uries or Walkers or Urie-Walkers or Walker-Uries, and whether it would be better to raise them in Vegas or Chicago or somewhere even further from the Church and his family than that, like maybe Tokyo or Antarctica.

"Um," Brendon said. "Yeah, you know, someday. Somebody."

"Mmm," Jon said, in an agreeing kind of way. His hands slid up, curling gently around Brendon's throat.

"Then you have about thirty seconds to sing me something that's not that stupid John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt song," Jon whispered, starting to shake Brendon just a little. "Because it is still stuck in my head and I am about to strangle you."


Brendon yelled something unintelligible from the back lounge, but nobody paid any attention.