Title: Brendon and the Purple Crayon
Author: Mandy/sekkritbandomlj
Pairing: gen (or, if you squint, implied Panic GSF)
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,595
Summary: One evening, Brendon decided to go for a walk with his purple crayon.
Disclaimer: None of this actually happened. Everyone belongs to themselves, Harold and the Purple Crayon is the genius of Crockett Johnson.
Notes: THIS IS COMPLETE CRACK. It might be even more amusing (or make more sense) if you view this first, but really, the book is way better than the cartoon. This is mostly the fault of the plot bunnies, but Reishin and Brandixcyanide helped spur the bunnies on, so.
By the third day of strep throat, Brendon felt about ready to die. He supposed it was a good thing that he'd managed to get sick during a break, but in reality, he couldn't bring himself to care. His throat hurt so much he couldn't swallow, his head felt thick, his eyes itchy, his body heavy, and his mouth tasted nasty. To top it all off, he bored out of his mind, but he couldn't arrange his thoughts long enough to follow the plot of a movie, and every time he moved his joints complained. Brendon did not like this being sick thing in the least.
There was a light knock on the door and Brendon peered blearily over, trying to force the fuzzy smudges of color there to coalesce into actual shapes. "Hey," Jon said, coming over and pulling up a chair next Brendon's bed. He was followed by Spencer and Ryan. Before sitting down, Ryan dumped a couple pens, a bright purple crayon, and a blank journal with unlined paper on the bed next to Brendon.
"What's all this?" Brendon croaked, feeling ham-handed as he fumbled his glasses on in order to see them better.
"You keep whining about how you're bored, so we're going to do something to fix that," Ryan explained. He flipped open the book, grabbed a pen, and began to draw.
"Wait. Why am I holding a hammer? And what's with the silly apron?" Spencer asked, frowning at the picture Ryan was drawing.
Ryan sighed. "It's not really you. It's someone who kind of vaguely looks like you and has the same name. And he's a smith."
"Maybe someone else should take over for a bit," Jon suggested diplomatically, lifting the sketchbook from Ryan's hands. Brendon smiled at him gratefully. The story was interesting thus far, but he'd rather not have it spawn bickering between Ryan and Spencer.
"...Pirate Bob," Ryan said, staring at the picture. "What is Bob Bryar doing in this story?"
"Uh, being an awesome pirate and saving the day?" Jon said, raising his eyebrows. Brendon grinned at him. Bob was pretty awesome, even if he was more a ninja than a pirate.
"I'm just saying, I don't see why you needed to put in Bob Bryar."
"Shut up, Bob's awesome," Spencer snapped. "And besides, you're the one who made Pete a monster."
"What the fuck, why the hell is Zack a penguin?" Ryan gasped, clearly appalled.
"What's wrong with that? Why wouldn't he be a penguin?" Jon asked, eyes wide with innocence
"...huh. Good point," Spencer agreed.
"We just went from pirates to penguins. Seriously, Jon's officially not allowed to tell this story anymore," Ryan said, reaching for the sketchbook.
"Oh, hey," Brendon croaked. "Spencer's turn. You already did it."
"Thank you, Brendon," Spencer said, smiling at him as Jon shrugged and passed the pens and sketchbook to Spencer.
"Wait, why is Brendon sharing his pie with Bob?"
"Pirate Bob. He's a pirate, Ryan, and therefore awesome," Brendon explained.
"I still don't like it," Ryan muttered, glaring at the picture while Spencer rolled his eyes.
"But what about Zack the littlest penguin?" Brendon rasped. "Can I share my pie with him?"
"I don't think you should be sharing it with anyone other than us," Ryan grumbled.
"Aw, Ryan Ross. I'd kiss you, but I don't want to get you sick."
"...hey," Ryan said, frowning.
"Shh," Brendon said hoarsely. "Listen to the story."
"Okay, that's it. Spencer's clearly got it in for me," Ryan said, grabbing the sketchbook from Spencer. "He's not allowed to write this anymore."
"Aww," Jon said, frowning. "I liked that bit. I thought it was sweet."
"Thank you, Jon," Spencer said, smiling at him. Brendon watched them snuggle up to each other and sighed. He wanted cuddles too – being sick and contagious sucked.
Clearing his throat, Ryan picked up the purple crayon and resumed the story.
"The End," Ryan concluded with a period and a flourish.
"Shh," Spencer said softly, tugging Ryan to his feet. "He's asleep."
Blinking, Ryan saw that Brendon was, indeed, asleep. Gathering up the sketchbook, pens, and crayon, he, Spencer, and Jon tiptoed out of the room. Best to let Brendon sleep while he could. The sooner he got better, the sooner they could get back to the status quo.
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