Jump With the Moon and Move It - Spencer/Brendon - PG-13
Title: Jump With the Moon and Move It
Author: alljustlovers
Rating: PG-13 for language and some description of wounds [there's also a very ambiguous ending, if that's the kind of thing that bothers you.]
Pairing: Spencer/Brendon
POV: 3rd
Summary: Some things can break your heart, but very few things could feel like this.
Wordcount: 1,508
Disclaimer: If you think this is real, or if your RL persona is a basis for these characters, it'd be best for everyone involved if you closed out of this window.
A/N: This is an unbeta'd sequel to Teen Wolves and was written for bdenismine . I hope this is what you wanted *shy* Title taken from the Gorillaz song 'Dare'
“You’re not funny.” Spencer says bluntly, glaring across the kitchen island at Brendon. “You’re not funny, and I hate you. You‘re no longer my boyfriend.”
Brendon can’t hold his giggles back any longer, and by the time Spencer’s hopped up and over the counter, Brendon is doubled over and laughing so hard he‘s got wetness in the corners of his eyes. Spencer makes his way to Brendon quickly and tickles him until he actually is on the floor, tears pouring down his cheeks, begging for mercy. Leave it up to Spencer to be the only teenage werewolf in existence that doesn’t think it would be funny to go as Teen Wolf for Halloween. Brendon is convinced his boyfriend is not only entirely humorless, but soulless as well. Obviously.
After the assault finally lets up, Spencer drags Brendon into the living room to watch some TV and brainstorm a little more. It’s already the 23rd of October, and the two haven’t been able to settle on costume ideas yet; Brendon wants to be something funny, like Michael and Selene, but Spencer turns down every costume Brendon suggests that would ‘objectify themselves‘. Brendon thinks Spencer is taking all of this werewolf stuff too seriously. Okay, so they go through a lot of pain and act kind of crazy once a month; isn’t that all a period is for girls? On top of running out of time until Halloween, there’s also supposed to be a full moon some time in the next few days, which gives them even less time to find something. They’re sprawled there together, each with their back to an arm of the couch and their feet tangled together, when Brendon can practically see the light bulb go off above Spencer’s head.
“What about, like, being normal people? That would be kinda funny. You know, like Ted down the street dresses up as us, so we dress up as him! That would totally work.”
Brendon has no idea who Ted is or why Spencer is so against playing with the lycan costume ideas or whatever, but the idea in itself is cute enough. Plus, Brendon is about three-quarters sure that he would get to see Spencer looking all slick and fly in a suit if they dressed up as ‘normal people’ - which also makes Brendon wonder -
“Hey. Who’s to say that being a werewolf takes away from being a normal person anyway? I’m normal.” Brendon is a little confused, and just a touch hurt, because he feels like Spencer is ashamed to be a were. Sure, things aren’t always the easiest, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with them.
“I’m just saying, you know, I don’t want to raise any eyebrows.” Spencer looks uncomfortable talking about it, so Brendon drops the discussion all together. Brendon thinks about it for the rest of the night, feeling sick and guilty. He’d be better off ignoring it, if only he were able to ignore the unrelenting pain in his palm that he knows only comes when something is wrong with Spencer.
The days leading up to the full moon pass quickly. Brendon’s palm hurts more deeply, but in a duller way with each day.
Brendon wakes up one morning to feel his entire skeleton pop and shift beneath his skin, and he knows that it’s finally time to transform again - he hates the build-up, hates that entire week before the shift where he knows it’s coming but just isn’t entirely sure when. On this morning, the mark on Brendon’s hand hurts more than it ever has before. His wolf brain is in control today, and all Brendon can think about is finding his mate and making sure he’s okay; he needs to see Spencer right now. Brendon gets as far as getting dressed and closing his front door behind himself before Spencer is running up the sidewalk towards Brendon. Spencer throws himself at Brendon, practically sobbing, and the two crumble to the ground.
Brendon gets Spencer calmed down a little, lacing their marked hands together and watching Spencer until he starts to speak.
“It’s just still new to me, all of this. I don’t like it and I don’t want it. I didn’t ask for it, so why me? Some asshole just turned me without giving me an explanation or a guidebook or anything like that, and now I‘m just supposed to sit here and take it? I‘m just supposed to be okay with this bullshit life?” Spencer’s breathing has gone shallow, nearly to the point that he’s gasping for air, and Brendon isn’t sure he wants Spencer to keep talking. This is who Spencer is, this is the only life he’s getting, and Brendon isn’t going to let his mate leave him.
“What’s so wrong with being a werewolf, Spencer?” Brendon growls out, his entire chest contracting as he tries to speak calmly. “Why can’t you just accept who you are and the cards you’ve been dealt in life?”
“I’m trying! I know you think all of this is a joke - “
“A joke? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Spencer!” Brendon can feel the blood pulsing through his veins, can feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up, and it so clearly is not the day for Spencer to be acting like this. “This is my life, and I’m just trying to get through it! All I want is to be okay and be happy, even if it is only for 29 days a month. You need to realize that everything has happened for a reason, and you also need to realize that you aren’t alone. I’m here, Spencer! I’m standing right here with you, going through each cycle with you, loving you and caring about you every day besides, and you still act like this last year has been the worst of your life. I’m fucking sorry that you can’t handle being different, being special, but when I saw you, I knew you were mine.”
Brendon’s gone too far, he knows he has, but it’s too late now to stop himself or take it back. He sees the confusion on Spencer’s face, the facts dawning on him, and then Brendon admits what he promised himself he would never, ever tell Spencer.
“I was the one who did it. I turned you, Spencer.”
The words are barely past Brendon’s lips before Spencer is shoving him away and storming down the street. The throbbing in Brendon’s hand is unbearable.
That night is the first shift in the entire year since Spencer was turned that he doesn’t spend a;; wrapped up in Brendon. He wakes up cold and alone in a stretch of trees he’s never visited before. When he looks himself over to make sure he wasn’t injured in the night, the only thing Spencer finds different is his palm. The X that was once there, the symbol of his bond with Brendon, has gone from a barely-there raised scar to a puffy red wound. It hurts to even open his hand, and Spencer is terrified out of his mind. His wolf brain kicks in, and it’s suddenly like none of it matters anymore. When it comes down to it, he’s Brendon’s, Brendon is his, and he needs to find Brendon about ten minutes ago.
Spencer tilts his head back and sniffs in the hope that he’ll find something that smells like Brendon. He walks through the trees, bearing his neck to the wind all the while, until he finally picks up a track. It’s strong enough to taste, and it’s like hunger and fear and heartache all in one. He starts running, letting his nose guide him home.
Spencer follows the scent through the woods - luckily, since he hadn’t left himself any clothes to put on after he changed back - and he finds Brendon in a small clearing near a brook. He’s crumbled into a ball, blood pooling under him from gashes in his back, and Spencer rushes to him as fast as his legs can carry him. The second he reaches Brendon, Spencer drops to his knees and stretches his hands out towards the other boy. Though he means for his touch to be light, his fingers feel heavy, weighing themselves down until both of Spencer’s hands are not only fully touching Brendon’s back, but pushing into it. As Spencer stares at the wounds splayed between his hands, he feels the pain in his palm grow to a throbbing that leaves tears in his eyes. He leaves his hands right where they are, knowing through a year’s experience that his marked hand will lead him down the right path even if his mate isn’t able to.
There’s a trembling, then, one that passes from the taught skin on Brendon’s back and into Spencer’s hands, right through his arms and out of his back like a blade is being removed from the muscles there. Spencer’s breath is stolen and his entire chest feels cold; below him, the slashes start to move. The skin on Brendon’s back begins to fold over itself, the wounds sealing themselves as if being zipped shut, the scars instantly vanishing. Spencer feels a pain so excruciating, so deep down in his skin and bones and veins, that he isn’t sure he’s even going to make it through whatever it is that’s actually happening. There’s a gasp, a body shifting beneath Spencer’s hands, and then there’s nothing.
Author: alljustlovers
Rating: PG-13 for language and some description of wounds [there's also a very ambiguous ending, if that's the kind of thing that bothers you.]
Pairing: Spencer/Brendon
POV: 3rd
Summary: Some things can break your heart, but very few things could feel like this.
Wordcount: 1,508
Disclaimer: If you think this is real, or if your RL persona is a basis for these characters, it'd be best for everyone involved if you closed out of this window.
A/N: This is an unbeta'd sequel to Teen Wolves and was written for bdenismine . I hope this is what you wanted *shy* Title taken from the Gorillaz song 'Dare'
“You’re not funny.” Spencer says bluntly, glaring across the kitchen island at Brendon. “You’re not funny, and I hate you. You‘re no longer my boyfriend.”
Brendon can’t hold his giggles back any longer, and by the time Spencer’s hopped up and over the counter, Brendon is doubled over and laughing so hard he‘s got wetness in the corners of his eyes. Spencer makes his way to Brendon quickly and tickles him until he actually is on the floor, tears pouring down his cheeks, begging for mercy. Leave it up to Spencer to be the only teenage werewolf in existence that doesn’t think it would be funny to go as Teen Wolf for Halloween. Brendon is convinced his boyfriend is not only entirely humorless, but soulless as well. Obviously.
After the assault finally lets up, Spencer drags Brendon into the living room to watch some TV and brainstorm a little more. It’s already the 23rd of October, and the two haven’t been able to settle on costume ideas yet; Brendon wants to be something funny, like Michael and Selene, but Spencer turns down every costume Brendon suggests that would ‘objectify themselves‘. Brendon thinks Spencer is taking all of this werewolf stuff too seriously. Okay, so they go through a lot of pain and act kind of crazy once a month; isn’t that all a period is for girls? On top of running out of time until Halloween, there’s also supposed to be a full moon some time in the next few days, which gives them even less time to find something. They’re sprawled there together, each with their back to an arm of the couch and their feet tangled together, when Brendon can practically see the light bulb go off above Spencer’s head.
“What about, like, being normal people? That would be kinda funny. You know, like Ted down the street dresses up as us, so we dress up as him! That would totally work.”
Brendon has no idea who Ted is or why Spencer is so against playing with the lycan costume ideas or whatever, but the idea in itself is cute enough. Plus, Brendon is about three-quarters sure that he would get to see Spencer looking all slick and fly in a suit if they dressed up as ‘normal people’ - which also makes Brendon wonder -
“Hey. Who’s to say that being a werewolf takes away from being a normal person anyway? I’m normal.” Brendon is a little confused, and just a touch hurt, because he feels like Spencer is ashamed to be a were. Sure, things aren’t always the easiest, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with them.
“I’m just saying, you know, I don’t want to raise any eyebrows.” Spencer looks uncomfortable talking about it, so Brendon drops the discussion all together. Brendon thinks about it for the rest of the night, feeling sick and guilty. He’d be better off ignoring it, if only he were able to ignore the unrelenting pain in his palm that he knows only comes when something is wrong with Spencer.
The days leading up to the full moon pass quickly. Brendon’s palm hurts more deeply, but in a duller way with each day.
Brendon wakes up one morning to feel his entire skeleton pop and shift beneath his skin, and he knows that it’s finally time to transform again - he hates the build-up, hates that entire week before the shift where he knows it’s coming but just isn’t entirely sure when. On this morning, the mark on Brendon’s hand hurts more than it ever has before. His wolf brain is in control today, and all Brendon can think about is finding his mate and making sure he’s okay; he needs to see Spencer right now. Brendon gets as far as getting dressed and closing his front door behind himself before Spencer is running up the sidewalk towards Brendon. Spencer throws himself at Brendon, practically sobbing, and the two crumble to the ground.
Brendon gets Spencer calmed down a little, lacing their marked hands together and watching Spencer until he starts to speak.
“It’s just still new to me, all of this. I don’t like it and I don’t want it. I didn’t ask for it, so why me? Some asshole just turned me without giving me an explanation or a guidebook or anything like that, and now I‘m just supposed to sit here and take it? I‘m just supposed to be okay with this bullshit life?” Spencer’s breathing has gone shallow, nearly to the point that he’s gasping for air, and Brendon isn’t sure he wants Spencer to keep talking. This is who Spencer is, this is the only life he’s getting, and Brendon isn’t going to let his mate leave him.
“What’s so wrong with being a werewolf, Spencer?” Brendon growls out, his entire chest contracting as he tries to speak calmly. “Why can’t you just accept who you are and the cards you’ve been dealt in life?”
“I’m trying! I know you think all of this is a joke - “
“A joke? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Spencer!” Brendon can feel the blood pulsing through his veins, can feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up, and it so clearly is not the day for Spencer to be acting like this. “This is my life, and I’m just trying to get through it! All I want is to be okay and be happy, even if it is only for 29 days a month. You need to realize that everything has happened for a reason, and you also need to realize that you aren’t alone. I’m here, Spencer! I’m standing right here with you, going through each cycle with you, loving you and caring about you every day besides, and you still act like this last year has been the worst of your life. I’m fucking sorry that you can’t handle being different, being special, but when I saw you, I knew you were mine.”
Brendon’s gone too far, he knows he has, but it’s too late now to stop himself or take it back. He sees the confusion on Spencer’s face, the facts dawning on him, and then Brendon admits what he promised himself he would never, ever tell Spencer.
“I was the one who did it. I turned you, Spencer.”
The words are barely past Brendon’s lips before Spencer is shoving him away and storming down the street. The throbbing in Brendon’s hand is unbearable.
That night is the first shift in the entire year since Spencer was turned that he doesn’t spend a;; wrapped up in Brendon. He wakes up cold and alone in a stretch of trees he’s never visited before. When he looks himself over to make sure he wasn’t injured in the night, the only thing Spencer finds different is his palm. The X that was once there, the symbol of his bond with Brendon, has gone from a barely-there raised scar to a puffy red wound. It hurts to even open his hand, and Spencer is terrified out of his mind. His wolf brain kicks in, and it’s suddenly like none of it matters anymore. When it comes down to it, he’s Brendon’s, Brendon is his, and he needs to find Brendon about ten minutes ago.
Spencer tilts his head back and sniffs in the hope that he’ll find something that smells like Brendon. He walks through the trees, bearing his neck to the wind all the while, until he finally picks up a track. It’s strong enough to taste, and it’s like hunger and fear and heartache all in one. He starts running, letting his nose guide him home.
Spencer follows the scent through the woods - luckily, since he hadn’t left himself any clothes to put on after he changed back - and he finds Brendon in a small clearing near a brook. He’s crumbled into a ball, blood pooling under him from gashes in his back, and Spencer rushes to him as fast as his legs can carry him. The second he reaches Brendon, Spencer drops to his knees and stretches his hands out towards the other boy. Though he means for his touch to be light, his fingers feel heavy, weighing themselves down until both of Spencer’s hands are not only fully touching Brendon’s back, but pushing into it. As Spencer stares at the wounds splayed between his hands, he feels the pain in his palm grow to a throbbing that leaves tears in his eyes. He leaves his hands right where they are, knowing through a year’s experience that his marked hand will lead him down the right path even if his mate isn’t able to.
There’s a trembling, then, one that passes from the taught skin on Brendon’s back and into Spencer’s hands, right through his arms and out of his back like a blade is being removed from the muscles there. Spencer’s breath is stolen and his entire chest feels cold; below him, the slashes start to move. The skin on Brendon’s back begins to fold over itself, the wounds sealing themselves as if being zipped shut, the scars instantly vanishing. Spencer feels a pain so excruciating, so deep down in his skin and bones and veins, that he isn’t sure he’s even going to make it through whatever it is that’s actually happening. There’s a gasp, a body shifting beneath Spencer’s hands, and then there’s nothing.