another word for tacos | 744 words
Panic/Jonas Brothers | Joe/Brendon/Spencer/Jon

A/N: *hands* follow-up to purity rings are for ugly dudes. Sometimes I wish I could write actual porn instead of suggestive taco-eating.

another word for tacos

Jon does his best to block the doorway, but Jon is totally bad at blocking Spence. Spence is, like, fucking huge now and can see right over his head, and it’s totally not Jon’s fault.

“Jon,” Spencer says. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest.

“This is not my fault,” Jon says, and Brendon calls out behind him, “Oh, that’s a lie, Jon Walker, this is all your fault,” but he’s giggling, which makes Jon giggle because, oh god, this is so so funny. It’s hilarious. Almost as funny as the time Ryan thought that Metro Station guy was imaginary – and, okay, nothing will ever be as funny as that, Jon thinks, because that dude had been so confused, and Ryan had totally made him wear a cowboy hat for days – but seriously, seriously. “I swear,” Jon says, “this is all a big misunderstanding.”

“You stole a Jonas Brother,” Spencer says.

Jon laughs. He stole a Jonas Brother. Jon’s a freaking genius. “Spencer,” Jon says. “Spencer, oh my god, seriously, Spencer, this dude is so cute,” and he steps aside because it’s not like he was going to keep Spencer out of the back lounge anyway. Spencer could just, like, lift him out of the way, because Spencer is awesome.

Brendon’s on the couch, arms wrapped around Ricky-bobby-joe, legs in his lap, face snuffling into the crook of his neck.

“Um.”

“Are you comfortable like that?” Spencer asks him, and Brendon hisses out, “Yessssss,” and the dude looks like maybe he’s gonna combust he’s so red; he’s biting his bottom lip so hard it turns white.

Jon thinks it’s freaking adorable.

Spencer says, “Bren, let the nice boy go,” and Jon ducks his head into the back of Spencer’s neck and grins against his skin, cups his palms over Spencer’s hips.

“Spence,” Jon says, low. “Spence, they’re so cute, right?” He can tell Spencer is wavering, softening, and Spence totally had a crush on that tallish Alex for, like, months, and Jon knows for a fact it’s because he reminded Spence of a, “baby lion, Jon, all peach fuzz and soft and precious,” and Spencer likes to pretend he’d never actually said that, but Jon’s got recorded proof thanks to Zack.

Brendon blinks wide-brown eyes at them, does his best baby deer impression, and all the while Kevin-nick-sam is just as cute by just breathing and Jon thinks the only thing better would be if he could’ve sweet-talked the other brothers onto their bus, and Jon thinks maybe it’s not too late. They could make a Jonas Brothers sandwich. A couple, even.

“This is wrong,” Spencer says, but he doesn’t sound all that convinced himself. “We can’t keep him.”

“Well, duh,” Brendon says. “We can borrow him, though.”

Paul-nate-shane sucks in a whimper-breath and that is possibly the best sound Jon has ever heard, except for maybe any and all sounds made by Spence. Jon likes how Joe - Joe, Jon’s fairly sure this one’s called Joe, now that he thinks about it – is so so quiet, like a twitchy-nosed bunny.

Jon feels when Spencer almost-breaks, when he shifts his weight into his hips. “Isn’t he, like, fifteen? And married?”

Jon bites into Spencer’s neck to keep from giggling, because Joe is totally married. To, like, his dad or something.

“He’s saving himself,” Brendon says, and when Jon looks over at them again Brendon’s got his fingers tangled in Joe’s shirt, “but purity rings are for ugly dudes, seriously.”

Jon bites down harder on Spencer’s neck, because purity rings, what the fuck. That’s. Jon doesn’t even know what that is, but he kind of wants to suck it off his finger. Jon is really, really bad. Jon is so bad.

Spencer says, kind of weakly, “We really need to get Ryan.”

“We need to get tacos,” Jon counters.

“Mmm, tacos,” Brendon says.

Ryan is the motherfucking best to get high with, but Ryan will totally make them give Joe back.

“Eat tacos with us, Spence,” Jon says, mumbles into Spencer’s skin. His hands slide over Spence’s belly and up under his shirt. Eating tacos with Spencer is the most awesome thing ever. Tacos are fucking delicious.

“We’re getting fucking mild salsa,” Spencer finally says.

“Pussy,” Brendon says, but he’s grinning, sly.

“Medium,” Jon says. Compromising. Jon’s good at that. He hums a taco song and hooks his thumbs in the waistband of Spencer’s jeans.

Spencer lets out a shuddery breath and says, “Fine.”

PART 3: no vows will be forgotten