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Fandom: Bandom, Panic
Pairing: past Brendon/Sarah, intended Brendon/Spencer
Length: 1100 wordsish.
Warnings: GHOST GHOSTFACERS WE FACE THE GHOSTS WHEN THE OTHERS WILL NOT
Notes: Yeah, I watch a LOT of Ghost Hunters. A LOT. Naturally, this happened.
Brendon inherits Briarhaven from his Great Uncle Harlan, who he never met.
He gets a letter in the mail that he thinks is a joke or a scam until he calls his mother and she says she thinks his father had an uncle named Harlan. Brendon can't imagine how Harlan Urie knew about him, even enough to leave him a house, but there are lawyers who send him a deed and suddenly Brendon owns a house in New Hampshire, completely across the country and he has no idea what to do with it.
Then he breaks up with Sarah and he thinks maybe he should go see it. At first he thinks he'll just go have a look at it- he's idly thinking about selling it and hopefully then buying an apartment somewhere, maybe LA.
But then he flies out to Burlington, rents a car and drives for two hours into the New Hampshirian woods, using some dubious google maps directions. Brendon finds out that Briarhaven is a huge, sprawling Victorian house that faces some out of the way, ancient train tracks. Brendon's not even sure how close the nearest town is, or even what it's called. His phone is getting dubious reception and he suddenly feels extremely unprepared to deal with this.
The inside of the house is surprisingly well-kept and looks exactly like the outside would suggest- it looks like the set of a Victorian movie more than it looks like a real house, even. There's an enormous office filled with leather bound books, giant canopied beds in the four bedrooms and two sitting rooms. There's no more hint of the past 120 years than the electrical wiring and the refrigerator, both of which look straight out of the 50s.
He manages to figure his way out to town, where he buys groceries and calls his boss back in Vegas to tell him he might need a little more time off than he originally thought. Brendon gets a couple of weird looks from people when he tells them where he's staying- or probably living, since it is his house. He figures it's good-natured small town distrust of strangers and doesn't really mind it.
By the third night he's convinced the house is haunted.
It's not obvious or really possible, even, but there's no other explanation.
Things move from where he puts them, lights turn off and on when he's not in the room, and his watch has disappeared altogether. He's an absentminded kind of guy and it's a big house but Brendon has simply run out of other options.
He has no idea what, if anything, he could or should do about it, but in the end it doesn't matter, because Ryan calls him first.
He's headed into town- partially to get drop cloths but really to get out of the house- when his phone chimes. There's a voicemail from about six hours earlier from an unknown number with some totally unknown area code and Brendon rolls his eyes. Then again, he does have bigger problems with the house than bad cell service.
"This is Ryan Ross, with Paranormal Investigations," Brendon can hear the capital letters and he wonders if they're psychics, too, because how else could they have known? "I was told that you are the current owner of Briarhaven House. My team and I are extremely interested in investigating reports of paranormal activity surrounding the house and grounds. If you'll allow us access, please call me back." The guy, Ryan, lists off a number that Brendon misses. He scrambles to write it down before he remembers that it's already in his phone from the missed call.
Brendon calls him before he can lose his nerve or reception.
There's a flat "Ross speaking," when the phone connects, three rings.
"Uh, hi, this is Brendon- Brendon Urie?" Brendon says, strangely nervous and sighing when he realizes the silence on the other end is "so what?"
"From Briarhaven," Brendon adds, feeling stupid.
"Ah," Ross says, much more interested sounding now. "Thank you for calling back."
"Uh, yeah, no problem, sorry I missed the call, there's not really a good signal at the house," Brendon apologizes, feeling sort of at a loss for conversation- he's pretty sure he can't just say "yeah, my house is haunted as fuck."
"When would be convenient for us to arrive?" Ross asks and Brendon blinks, because he hadn't said yes, but okay, he was going to, anyway, but.
"Wait, do you guys do exorcisms or stuff?" Brendon blurts out. There's a judgmental pause on the line.
"If there is, in fact, a malicious spiritual entity trapped in the house or it's environs, we will attempt to persuade it to move on," Ross says, which Brendon's guessing still means yes.
"Okay," Brendon agrees. "Come whenever then."
Ross tells him that he and his "team" will arrive in two days. Brendon calls his boss and says he'll probably be another week.
He tries to convince himself it's a practical thing- if he wants to sell the house, he'll have to deal with this sooner or later, but if he's being honest, it'll just be nice to tell him whether or not he's totally crazy.
The next two days have some net losses and gains: he loses his sneakers, two vases disappear off the study mantle and a pot falls in the kitchen, but he smells oranges he's certain he didn't buy and finds a super creepy servants' passage and a whole staircase.
He doesn't care what they do, he cannot wait for Ross and his team to get here.
Brendon's not really sure what he expected, but the pale green VW van wasn't it. Abstractly, he's sort of amazed that "Mystery Machine" isn't painted on the side. Ross isn't what he expected, either.
For a ghost hunting team, there's a lot of paisley.
Brendon has the abrupt concern that this might not actually be Paranormal Investigations, but a 60s folk tribute band, lost in the woods.
"Mr. Urie?" asks the spindliest of them, sticking out a hand weighed down by maybe ten beaded bracelets.
"Yeah, Brendon, please," Brendon offers, and no, these must be his guys.
"Ryan Ross," he replies and somehow that actually kind of makes sense. "This is Jon Walker."
Jon Walker is a friendly looking guy that sort of looks like he should be playing a guitar with a dog in a park. It's probably the flip flops. Brendon sort of thinks he must be their Shaggy. He guesses that since Ryan is their leader, he must be Fred. Brendon waves at him easily.
"And this is Spencer Smith," Ryan adds, as one more guy gets out of the van, and- oh.
Spencer Smith must be Daphne, because he's the prettiest thing Brendon's ever seen.
Pairing: past Brendon/Sarah, intended Brendon/Spencer
Length: 1100 wordsish.
Warnings: GHOST GHOSTFACERS WE FACE THE GHOSTS WHEN THE OTHERS WILL NOT
Notes: Yeah, I watch a LOT of Ghost Hunters. A LOT. Naturally, this happened.
Brendon inherits Briarhaven from his Great Uncle Harlan, who he never met.
He gets a letter in the mail that he thinks is a joke or a scam until he calls his mother and she says she thinks his father had an uncle named Harlan. Brendon can't imagine how Harlan Urie knew about him, even enough to leave him a house, but there are lawyers who send him a deed and suddenly Brendon owns a house in New Hampshire, completely across the country and he has no idea what to do with it.
Then he breaks up with Sarah and he thinks maybe he should go see it. At first he thinks he'll just go have a look at it- he's idly thinking about selling it and hopefully then buying an apartment somewhere, maybe LA.
But then he flies out to Burlington, rents a car and drives for two hours into the New Hampshirian woods, using some dubious google maps directions. Brendon finds out that Briarhaven is a huge, sprawling Victorian house that faces some out of the way, ancient train tracks. Brendon's not even sure how close the nearest town is, or even what it's called. His phone is getting dubious reception and he suddenly feels extremely unprepared to deal with this.
The inside of the house is surprisingly well-kept and looks exactly like the outside would suggest- it looks like the set of a Victorian movie more than it looks like a real house, even. There's an enormous office filled with leather bound books, giant canopied beds in the four bedrooms and two sitting rooms. There's no more hint of the past 120 years than the electrical wiring and the refrigerator, both of which look straight out of the 50s.
He manages to figure his way out to town, where he buys groceries and calls his boss back in Vegas to tell him he might need a little more time off than he originally thought. Brendon gets a couple of weird looks from people when he tells them where he's staying- or probably living, since it is his house. He figures it's good-natured small town distrust of strangers and doesn't really mind it.
By the third night he's convinced the house is haunted.
It's not obvious or really possible, even, but there's no other explanation.
Things move from where he puts them, lights turn off and on when he's not in the room, and his watch has disappeared altogether. He's an absentminded kind of guy and it's a big house but Brendon has simply run out of other options.
He has no idea what, if anything, he could or should do about it, but in the end it doesn't matter, because Ryan calls him first.
He's headed into town- partially to get drop cloths but really to get out of the house- when his phone chimes. There's a voicemail from about six hours earlier from an unknown number with some totally unknown area code and Brendon rolls his eyes. Then again, he does have bigger problems with the house than bad cell service.
"This is Ryan Ross, with Paranormal Investigations," Brendon can hear the capital letters and he wonders if they're psychics, too, because how else could they have known? "I was told that you are the current owner of Briarhaven House. My team and I are extremely interested in investigating reports of paranormal activity surrounding the house and grounds. If you'll allow us access, please call me back." The guy, Ryan, lists off a number that Brendon misses. He scrambles to write it down before he remembers that it's already in his phone from the missed call.
Brendon calls him before he can lose his nerve or reception.
There's a flat "Ross speaking," when the phone connects, three rings.
"Uh, hi, this is Brendon- Brendon Urie?" Brendon says, strangely nervous and sighing when he realizes the silence on the other end is "so what?"
"From Briarhaven," Brendon adds, feeling stupid.
"Ah," Ross says, much more interested sounding now. "Thank you for calling back."
"Uh, yeah, no problem, sorry I missed the call, there's not really a good signal at the house," Brendon apologizes, feeling sort of at a loss for conversation- he's pretty sure he can't just say "yeah, my house is haunted as fuck."
"When would be convenient for us to arrive?" Ross asks and Brendon blinks, because he hadn't said yes, but okay, he was going to, anyway, but.
"Wait, do you guys do exorcisms or stuff?" Brendon blurts out. There's a judgmental pause on the line.
"If there is, in fact, a malicious spiritual entity trapped in the house or it's environs, we will attempt to persuade it to move on," Ross says, which Brendon's guessing still means yes.
"Okay," Brendon agrees. "Come whenever then."
Ross tells him that he and his "team" will arrive in two days. Brendon calls his boss and says he'll probably be another week.
He tries to convince himself it's a practical thing- if he wants to sell the house, he'll have to deal with this sooner or later, but if he's being honest, it'll just be nice to tell him whether or not he's totally crazy.
The next two days have some net losses and gains: he loses his sneakers, two vases disappear off the study mantle and a pot falls in the kitchen, but he smells oranges he's certain he didn't buy and finds a super creepy servants' passage and a whole staircase.
He doesn't care what they do, he cannot wait for Ross and his team to get here.
Brendon's not really sure what he expected, but the pale green VW van wasn't it. Abstractly, he's sort of amazed that "Mystery Machine" isn't painted on the side. Ross isn't what he expected, either.
For a ghost hunting team, there's a lot of paisley.
Brendon has the abrupt concern that this might not actually be Paranormal Investigations, but a 60s folk tribute band, lost in the woods.
"Mr. Urie?" asks the spindliest of them, sticking out a hand weighed down by maybe ten beaded bracelets.
"Yeah, Brendon, please," Brendon offers, and no, these must be his guys.
"Ryan Ross," he replies and somehow that actually kind of makes sense. "This is Jon Walker."
Jon Walker is a friendly looking guy that sort of looks like he should be playing a guitar with a dog in a park. It's probably the flip flops. Brendon sort of thinks he must be their Shaggy. He guesses that since Ryan is their leader, he must be Fred. Brendon waves at him easily.
"And this is Spencer Smith," Ryan adds, as one more guy gets out of the van, and- oh.
Spencer Smith must be Daphne, because he's the prettiest thing Brendon's ever seen.
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