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The thing about being a werewolf, Brendon decided, was that it was just really fucking weird. Like he was hungry all the time. And his emotions were everywhere. And he was kind of developing this dual-personality thing -- or maybe not developing. Maybe when you got turned into a werewolf, you just had this wolf part of your brain turned on all the time. That made you want to do things. Like smell random strangers. In line. At Starbucks. Before you’d made the conscious decision to do so.
“Were you sniffing my hair?” the girl asked. Well, she wasn’t a girl exactly. In her early twenties for sure and had these amazing warm blue eyes that looked really amused at Brendon’s expense, but not in a cruel way. Like that she thought him charming. And she had this haphazard up-do and was wearing a sundress. She was beautiful. There were a few freckles dotting her nose and he was already a sucker for freckles. Completely. And she smelled wonderful. Simply wonderful. Like sandalwood and contentment and cream.
“Um, maybe,” he admitted sheepishly. Might as well let her know he was a creeper to start with. Or at least borderline crazy. Honesty was good. Right? “Maybe a little.”
“Seemed like more than a little,” she said, smiling at him. The corners of her eyes crinkled with it. She wasn’t mad. She didn’t smell mad. She was genuinely amused. It was kinda nice.
“I could buy you coffee to make up for my weirdness?” Brendon asked. “No, I’m totally buying your coffee then I can go back home and be completely embarrassed by this whole thing. I’m usually not creepy at all, if the hair smelling was creepy. Just. I. I should stop talking. Yeah. I’ll stop talking.” He did not bury his face in his hands or run away, but it was a close thing. His cheeks felt so hot. He was blushing. Great.
“You can buy me coffee and keep talking.” She was still smiling and she touched his forearm with her hand and it felt cool and calm and right there.
“Clearly you have a high spastic tolerance,” Brendon said, nodding to himself very seriously. He should marry this girl. She was clearly a keeper.
“You can call me Sarah,” she said, offering her hand.
“Sarah,” he greeted and the name felt right in his mouth. “Well, I’m Brendon and I’d say you could call me whatever you want, but that’s a terrible line. And you don’t look like a girl who deserves lines.”]
“Sweet of you,” she allowed, smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. “And you could try a few if you wanted.”
“I,” Brendon started. Wait. She was flirting with him. He could flirt. Probably. “Oh. Yeah. I could. Man, I’m not any good at this at all,” he chuckled at himself.
“You’re doing fine,” Sarah assured him.
“Charm and class,” Brendon observed. “I’m going to crash and burn on this.”
“Start with coffee,” she suggested when they’d reached the front of the line.
“Right!” he smiled and she smiled back. And he was a little gone for her already. “Then work up to dinner?”
“I’d be open to the dinner step,” she hinted, conspiratorially winking.
“Total crash and burn,” he said, and then nodded, smiling at her dopily. She giggled and gave her order and he gave his. “Are we going for a coffee date walk or are we sitting?”
“A walk would be nice, don’t you think?” she asked, adding, “There’s a park just across the street.”
“Subtle hint is subtle, m’lady,” Brendon said as he handed Sarah her coffee, took his, and then offered his arm.
“You have no idea,” she promised, coy.
“And I would love to find out,” Brendon said, grinning at her. “I’m a fast learner and take direction well.” He winked. Okay, flirting was kind of like riding a bike, even if he was always surprised when he managed not to plow into a ditch.
“I thought you looked clever,” she said winking back. “So, what have you been listening to?”
From there, they back-burnered the flirting just a little and talked music and family and what brings her to Los Angeles and what bad TV they both like and the 80s music they love. And he might have talked a ridiculous amount about Spencer. But how could he not, because, Spence! He was starting to think that he’d dreamed her up. Especially when the next part of the conversation happened.
“So, you’re a werewolf,” she said, tone perfectly normal, calm, observant.
Brendon tripped on air and fought to keep his face neutral when he looked at her again. Her face was open, nonjudgmental, serene.
“And you’re a rockstar,” she added.
“Sarah, I,” Brendon started and took a breath. He didn’t know how he felt. He knew this girl was too good to be true. “You recognized me.”
“Yeah, on both counts,” Sarah confirmed. “And neither is a big deal. Just putting it out there. You’d just wonder if I knew you were ‘Brendon Urie’ and then when you decided it didn’t matter, you’d then try to figure out how to tell me you’re a werewolf. Anything you have to confess or was that everything?”
“I should marry you,” Brendon said, kind of baffled. Because really.
Sarah giggled, like random, out of the blue, oddly sincere, marriage proposals were charming.
“But um. , ” Brendon figured this would be the deal breaker – what he was getting ready to say. You just didn’t find a girl who didn’t care that you were a supernatural creature and a rockstar and polyamorous. He was sure that that girl did not exist. Maybe she still wanted to be his friend. Because she was amazing. And loved music. And liked animals. And he wouldn’t know what to do if he never got to see her smile again.
“What?” she asked.
“You know Spencer?” he asked, taking the ass-backward way around the whole conversation.
“Yeah, well, I know of,” she allowed.
“I’m kind of in love with him,” Brendon confessed.
“Well, yeah,” Sarah allowed. “You’ve only talked about him a lot, Brendon. I could tell. Is this the part where you tell me we’re not gonna go out? Or you think I’m gonna make you choose?”
“You’re not gonna make me choose?” Brendon stopped in his tracks.
“No,” Sarah answered, looking at him like he was being silly. He started to wonder if maybe he was hallucinating. He probably was.
“Are you a unicorn?” he asked very seriously. Because really, it was the only explanation he could come up with. The only one. It was like how Jon claimed not to be psychic. Nothing about this whole conversation added up. It was only logical that she was a unicorn because otherwise she did not exist. He was making her up.
“Do I smell like innocence and time to you?” she asked, giggling.
“No. Sandalwood and contentment,” Brendon answered. “Do unicorns smell like that?”
“According to legend,” she explained. “Why? Does Mikey Way smell like that?” She jokingly asked.
“Come to think, …” He grinned and then laughed when she looked shocked then shoved him because she realized he was joking.
“Brendon Urie, don’t pull a girl’s leg like that,” she chided.
“Yeah he doesn’t smell like either of those things. Well, a little time, but yeah. Not so much innocence, which I’m pretty sure isn’t entirely Frank’s fault.”
“Your life is a little weird,” Sarah said, like she was letting him in on a secret once she was done laughing.
“Yeah, it is,” he admitted, with a lopsided smile. “And this isn’t even me when I’m touring.”
“I can do weird,” Sarah said, eyes twinkling as she got up on tippy toes and kissed him. Brendon made a little noise of surprise, because he thought that this was where it was going, but it was still nice. He recovered enough to kiss back, angling his head down so she could put her feet back on the ground.
“I’m totally gonna write you a song,” he said in a rush when she pulled away, still smiling at him. And his face hurt from smiling so wide, but he was so happy.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she chided, but still looked charmed.
“Only the possible unicorns,” Brendon said, seriously and crossed his heart. “Are you maybe a gypsy?”
“Now was that so hard, ?” she asked, smile sweet.
“Wait, seriously?” Brendon asked.
“Maybe I can tell you over dinner,” Sarah hinted.
“Right, I was working up to ask you to dinner. You’re kind of fantastic. And I’ve been flailing a little. So, dinner?” he asked, smiling hopefully.
“Yes,” she said. “There’s a Thai place near mine. Tomorrow at 8:00 or am I getting in the way of any Spencer time?”
“Tomorrow is good. Tomorrow’s great actually. And no. Spencer wouldn’t mind. We. We’re. It’s kind of complicated and new and I’m still learning. But tomorrow will be fine. He’d actually probably be glad if I were out of the house so he could clean the kitchen properly without me getting in the way. We’ve been demoing, so it’s been a little stressful. A cleaning Spencer is an unstressed Spencer.”
“I will keep that in mind,” Sarah said. “And you’ll figure it out.”
Seriously amazing. And she just kept being amazing. And Spencer loved her a little, too. And he was pretty sure that he’d get a happy ever after with her.