Get Up and Shake the Glitter Off Your Clothes (Brendon/Spencer) 1/5
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Get Up And Shake The Glitter Off Your Clothes
(Now We’re Partners In Crime)
Spencer wakes up with his face mashed into Brendon’s armpit. His mouth tastes like he’s eaten those socks they’d found in the back of the bus that one time- the ones everyone had denied ownership of and so they’d ended up staying there until the end of tour, slowly decaying in a corner.
Spencer’s front, where it’s pressed against the soft material of Brendon’s shirt, is warm from the heat of Brendon’s body, and his back is bare and cold from the air conditioning that’s cranked right up. He shivers, then wishes he hadn’t moved as a wave of nausea washes over him.
Spencer turns his head and realises he’s drooled all over Brendon’s chest. He lifts his head enough to make a face and tries to think about what had happened the night before. He finds he barely remembers it at all. It’s all flashes of light in the black hole that is his memory- people laughing, a lot of booze, Jon laughing hysterically, Cash all high and loose limbed, Brendon’s hand squeezing Spencer’s. And that’s all he remembers.
Spencer would ask Brendon if he remembers anything, but he’s started doing that horrible snoring he does sometimes when he’s drunk too much. It’s like someone’s taken a chainsaw to Spencer’s head and he groans and realises he needs to take a piss, which means moving. He doesn’t want to move, but between the increasing noise coming out of Brendon and the pressure on his bladder, he doesn’t have much of a choice.
He props himself up, hand splayed on Brendon’s stomach. He manages to rest too much weight on that arm though, so Brendon wakes up with an “Oof! Oh, fuck. My head!”
Spencer takes the opportunity to roll of the bed and onto unsteady feet. He stumbles towards a half open door and it takes him three attempts to flip up the toilet seat. He flushes and winces at the loud noise then stares in the mirror at his bloodshot eyes. Then he fills two glasses with water and manages to stumble back to the massive bed without spilling them. There’s a bottle of Advil on the bedside table and Spencer shakes a couple into his palm and swallows them down, then shakes out two more and offers them to Brendon.
Brendon wiggles about to prop himself up on the pillows and takes the water and pills Spencer offers. He swallows them and then stares down his body.
“Hey,” he says. “Where are my pants?”
Spencer finishes his water and looks Brendon up and down, over his bare legs and bright orange briefs and grey shirt that’s all rucked up around his waist. He shrugs.
He flops back into bed, face first into the pillow. It’s not the first time Spencer’s woken up in a drunken pile with one or more of his band mates or extended band family, but it’s the first time Brendon reaches over and pokes him and says “Hey what’s this?”
Spencer rolls onto his side and Brendon slaps a piece of paper against his bare chest before turning away and groping at the nightstand for his glasses. Spencer half sits up to help him (it’s not like Brendon’s blind or anything, but Spencer doesn’t mind helping out) when he catches his name on the piece of paper. He rubs at his eyes, squints and reads it.
There are three important bits of information on it.
1. It says ‘Certificate of Marriage’ across the top.
2. It has yesterday’s date on it.
3. Both Brendon and Spencer’s names are on it.
Spencer stares at it for a few moments until Brendon pulls it from his fingers, then he rolls onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling and says, “Fuck.”
A moment later Brendon echoes him and slumps back down until he’s lying beside Spencer, arms brushing. The paper flutters down onto the bed between them.
“Fuck,” Brendon says again, and Spencer’s head begins to pound with a thousand off-beat drums and he feels the panic welling in his chest.
Neither of them says anything for a long time. And then Brendon breaks into Spencer’s mental litany of ‘Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck’.
“Where are we?” he asks, and for the first time Spencer really looks around the room they’re in.
They’ve woken up in Vegas, that much Spencer knows. Places in Vegas have a gleam to them that other places just lack, and this room has it in spades.
They’re in a motel, that much is obvious too, judging by the floral sheets with matching lampshades and curtains that Spencer hopes never get opened because light is not his friend right now. Even the thin slivers coming through the gap in the curtains, giving them enough to read by, are too much and Spencer closes his eyes. He has a nasty suspicion that this motel has both a casino and chapel attached and he vaguely remembers saying “Dude, we should go to a casino” last night.
He groans and closes his eyes and tries to think clearly.
“Spence?”
Spencer turns his head and opens his eyes. Brendon’s face is just inches away and he looks scared.
“Do you remember anything?” he asks and Spencer shakes his head. The Advil seem to be kicking in because it doesn’t hurt quite as much this time.
“Me either,” Brendon said. “Where are we? What’s going on?”
Spencer wishes he had the answers, but he doesn’t. He takes a deep breath and sits up. The room doesn’t spin and his head stays attached to his shoulders so he considers it a win and reaches for a matchbook from the bedside table. He squints at the address then nods.
“I know where we are,” he says. “We should…we should go. Home. And then figure this out.”
Brendon is already getting out of bed and looking for his pants. He finds them in the bathroom and crows triumphantly far too loudly for Spencer’s head to handle.
Spencer slips on his shoes, rubs his hand over his face. He pulls on his discarded shirt and smiles in relief when his fingers close over the cool plastic of his sunglasses in the pocket.
“Maybe it’s a dream,” Brendon says, stumbling out of the bathroom, doing up his pants. “Maybe it’s a nightmare.”
“Thanks,” Spencer replies dryly. “It’s good to know that the worst thing you can imagine for a nightmare is marrying me.”
Brendon makes a face. “You know what I mean. This has got to be a mistake, right? I mean. We wouldn’t…would we?”
Spencer wants to reply ‘no, of course not’ but there’s a piece of paper that would prove him a liar so he shakes his head.
“Let’s just go,” he says, double checking the room to make sure they’ve got everything, then ushering Brendon out of the door.
They find their way down to the reception desk, and the pretty blonde behind the computer there smiles brightly at them.
“Checking out?” she chirps as Spencer slides the key towards her. She taps at the keyboard with her bright red nails and the sound feels like shards of hot metal being driven into Spencer’s skull. He keeps his big, fake, interview smile in place as she tells them how much they owe and Spencer hands over his credit card.
“Oh, hey,” Brendon says, reaching for his own wallet. “You shouldn’t have to.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Spencer tells him, then laughs. “My treat.”
The receptionist looks up and gives them the sort of look people give to puppies and babies. “How sweet,” she says, like she means it and it makes Spencer laugh again, quietly.
“There you go, sir,” she says, handing him his card back. “I hope you choose to stay with us again. And congratulations, Mr Smith,” she nods at Spencer, then looks at Brendon. “Mr Smith,” she repeats and it takes Brendon a moment to catch on.
“Why am I the bride?” Brendon demands. “Why can’t you take my name?”
Spencer gives the receptionist an even brighter smile and reaches for Brendon’s arm. Brendon moves as he grabs at him and he ends up clutching at Brendon’s hand, not his wrist like he’d intended. He squeezes, hard, and digs his nails in a little, until Brendon falls silent and gives him a reproachful look.
“Were you here last night when we, uh, checked in?” Spencer asks, and Brendon stops muttering under his breath and looks up intently.
The receptionist smiles. “No, my shift only started a few hours ago. But we have it marked on the computer that you’re newly-weds. Thank you for choosing our establishment to declare your love for one another!”
Spencer nods. “Yeah. Thanks. It’s been a very memorable experience,” he adds, pulling Brendon out into the parking lot.
“Seriously,” Brendon says. “Why do I have to change my name? Why can’t you change yours?”
“No one’s changing their name,” Spencer says. He glances around, looking to see if there are any cabs to hail, and is about to go back inside to get the receptionist to call one for them, when he spots his car.
He feels in his pocket and pulls out his car keys. “Huh,” he says. “I drove us here?”
“So it was your idea?” Brendon asks accusingly as Spencer unlocks the car and they climb inside.
“No!” Spencer replies. He takes a few moments to collect himself, fiddling with the rear view mirror and cleaning the windshield. “If anyone could come up with a dumb idea like getting married, it’d be you,” he points out and Brendon huffs and folds his arms across his chest.
He stares out the window as Spencer starts the car and pulls out onto the freeway. Brendon keeps making little annoyed noises, so Spencer reaches over and turns on the radio, volume up loud. It hurts his head, but it drowns out Brendon’s sulking at least.
Neither of them speak on their way home. Spencer pulls up outside Brendon’s parents’ place. He turns the engine off and the car descends into silence.
Spencer stares at his hands clutching the steering wheel. Even though he’s still got his shades on to protect his delicate, and apparently vodka soaked, eyeballs from the harsh sunlight, he thinks his knuckles look a little white. He relaxes and then glances across at Brendon, who’s worrying at his thumbnail. Spencer has to stop himself from reaching out and knocking Brendon’s hand away, telling him to stop.
“So,” Brendon says eventually. He nibbles a bit more, then turns his head and spits out the sliver of nail. It bounces off the dashboard and lands on the floor somewhere.
Usually Spencer would bitch him out about it, but hey, they’re apparently married now and half of his car belongs to Brendon anyway. All of their worldly possessions. Now shared.
“So,” Spencer echoes, stamping down the upwelling of panic that threatens to rise inside him.
“What do we do?” Brendon asks, staring at Spencer like he has all the answers.
‘Stop panicking’, Spencer wants to say, but he just tells himself instead, breaths slow, ignores the rush of ohmygodwhatthefuckingfuck that slams over him like a wave on a particularly choppy surf beach. “We take some time. Get rid of these hangovers. And then we figure out how to fix this.”
Brendon nods, and reaches for the door handle. He opens the door, then pauses and turns back to look at Spencer, a miserable expression on his face.
“I’m really sorry,” he says, and Spencer opens his mouth to automatically say ‘it’s not your fault’ but Brendon is already gone, hurrying up the path to his parents’ front door with his hoodie pulled up and hands shoved in his pockets.
Spencer waits until he’s safely inside then puts the car in drive and leaves. He thinks about the traffic lights, the asshole next to him in the convertible that he’s sure is meant to make up for inadequacies in other areas of the guys life, about the kids throwing a ball around in the street as he winds his way through the suburbs and lets the car roll to a stop. He very carefully doesn’t think of anything else.
He gets out, locks the car, walks up to the door and selects the correct key off his keychain. He opens the door, walks into the kitchen, helps himself to a mug of coffee and yells “RYAN!”
Spencer has almost finished his drink by the time Ryan stumbles down the stairs, feet making loud slapping noises on the wooden flooring. Spencer gets up and pours himself another drink and one for Ryan too as he blunders into the kitchen.
He gives Ryan a couple of minutes to stop blinking at him all bleary eyed and then slaps the marriage certificate down on the table in front of him.
“What the fuck happened last night?”
Ryan picks up the paper and frowns at it. “What’s this?” he asks and Spencer scowls.
“You can read, right?” he snaps. “Because if you can, you’ll see that I got married last night.”
“Congratulations!” Ryan says brightly, then stops smiling when Spencer glares at him. He wonders if Ryan’s still high, but the coffee seems to be waking him up and he looks pretty lucid.
“To Brendon,” Spencer adds and Ryan stares at him, then glances down at the paper. His lips move as he reads Brendon’s name, then he looks back up at Spencer, and laughs. He laughs really, really hard and while Spencer had expected that, he’d expected a tiny amount of sympathy too.
“Are you serious?” he asks and Spencer nods miserably. He sighs and rests his forehead on Ryan’s kitchen table, hoping that Ryan hasn’t forgotten to pay his cleaner lately and that the toast crumbs he feels sticking to his skin are yesterday’s and not last month’s.
“I can’t believe you didn’t ask me to be your best man,” Ryan says. “I didn’t even know you were engaged! Where are you registered? Put me down for a toaster.”
Spencer doesn’t lift his head when he flips Ryan off.
“Not a good thing then?” Ryan asks and Spencer laughs hollowly.
“Are you kidding?” Spencer sits up and gives Ryan an incredulous look. “I got so drunk or stoned or something that I got hitched to our lead singer. Our friend. Brendon. Brendon Urie.”
“Brendon Smith now,” Ryan says solemnly. “Unless you’re taking his name? Spencer James Urie has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
Spencer wishes he had something to throw at Ryan but the only thing to hand is his coffee mug, which is currently the most precious thing he has in his possession.
“Also,” Ryan adds, “‘stoned’ just means intoxicated, so people used to say that instead of ‘drunk’. So you could have just said ‘stoned’ then and saved a few words.”
Spencer stares at him. “You’re the best best friend ever,” he says drily.
“I try,” Ryan smiles, as Jon wanders into the kitchen in a ratty pair of sweatpants and an old grey shirt.
Jon’s humming loudly and sings “Got a few pennies, gonna buy myself a bottle of gin.” He sits down and steals Ryan’s coffee and sings “Gonna call my buddies on the telephone and say-”
He points at Spencer but Spencer just gives him a look until he lowers his finger.
“Morning,” Jon says after a beat, when it becomes clear Spencer isn’t going to sing the next line.
“Morning,” Spencer replies. “I got married last night, how’re you?”
A slow smile spreads over Jon’s face and he glances at Ryan as he shifts in his seat and leans closer. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Spencer says. “To Brendon.”
Jon’s grin gets even bigger. “To Brendon, you say. Our Brendon?”
“No,” Spencer says. “All of the other Brendon’s we know.”
“How very Mormon of you,” Ryan quips and Spencer makes a face.
“I don’t know how this happened,” he complains. “I can’t believe I was that drunk. That we were that drunk. I don’t even remember that much about last night except…there were some playing cards. And bright lights. And…” He thinks for a moment the points at Jon.
“You were there. What the fuck happened?”
Jon nods. “Yep. We were over at Cash and Deleon’s new place, remember? Bit of a house warming. The whole ‘liquor in the front, poker in the rear’ deal. It was kinda awesome and we were having a great time until there was that argument about cheating. And then you decided you wanted to go to a real casino and you and Brendon left.”
“I drove us to a casino when I was drunk?” Spencer demands. He’s not that kind of guy, so it doesn’t make sense. If he tries though, he can remember being at Cash’s place, can remember Ian and Johnson shouting at each other about cheating of some kind, and he’s starting to be really sure that he can remember suggesting a proper casino, even though most of the Cab are too young to go.
“No,” Jon shook his head. “You’d had maybe one drink. I guess when you got there, you had a few too many free drinks? And man, I bet it was a beautiful ceremony. Hey! Did you get lucky?”
Spencer glares and Jon holds his hands up, laughing. “I meant at the casino!” he grins, giving that wide eyed ‘who me?’ look they all struggle to resist.
Spencer ignores him and turns back to Ryan. He knows he must look pathetic as he asks, “I don’t know what to do,” because Ryan nods and give Spencer his ‘I am seriously thinking’ expression.
“Just get it annulled,” he says and Spencer stares at Ryan like he’s some sort of genius. He’s not sure why the thought hadn’t immediately occurred to him, but of course, an annulment would make a lot of sense. It’d be quick. It wouldn’t be messy.
“Oh thank fuck,” Spencer says, tension in his shoulders easing a little. “Of course. I’ll call the lawyer tomorrow. Get it sorted out. It’ll be fine. A funny story to tell in the future.”
“Or,” Ryan continues, thinking face still in place, “you could claim Brendon has wronged you in some way, sue him for divorce and demand half of his money.”
Jon nods at Ryan appreciatively. “Nice,” he says, and finishes Ryan’s coffee in one long gulp.
“I think I’ll stick to the annulment,” Spencer tells them. “But thanks. That was helpful.”
Ryan looks pleased with himself. “Maybe we should have something on the blog where people can ask for advice and I could help them. Dear Ryan or something.”
Spencer gives Jon a look that he hope clearly instructs him not to let Ryan do any such thing, but makes a mental note to check the blog later, just in case. He doesn’t want to have to read letters of complaint from angry parents when their kids drop out of school and start a hippie commune, or whatever it is Ryan would tell people to do.
Jon gives Spencer a big smile. “I forgot to say,” he says brightly. “Congratulations! I hope you carried your bride over the threshold.”
“Brendon’s going to be pissed you assume he’s the girl,” Spencer points out and Jon laughs, really hard this time. Spencer looks across at Ryan, and finds him giving Jon a curious look.
Spencer raises his eyebrow, just a little, and Ryan only hesitates for a moment before shrugging back. Spencer’s not sure what Ryan’s thinking, but he’ll find out, eventually. Right now he has more important things to deal with, like getting a shower and some sleep and sorting this whole marriage mess out.
“I’ll catch you guys later,” he says, standing up. He points at Jon. “Next time, remember, friends don’t let friends drunk-marry.”
Jon laughs again, snorting a little.
“Don’t you want to stay awhile?” Ryan asks. “We can work on that song. Or, hey, smoke a bowl maybe?” He says it like the thought has only just occurred to him, like it wasn’t his plan for the day all along- like it’s a special occasion thing, just because Spencer happens to be there.
“Urgh,” Spencer shakes his head, turning towards the door. “I think I’ll pass. Don’t want to accidentally marry one of you guys while I’m high too.”
“You’d pick me, right?” Ryan says, seriously, glancing over at Jon and folding his arms across his chest. “I mean. Obviously.”
Spencer just smirks and winks at Jon and leaves, smiling to himself at Ryan’s exclamation of surprise behind him.
He’s almost cheerful by the time he gets home. The whole marriage thing is going to work out and it’s not like it’s going to be weird or awkward or anything afterwards because it’s them, and they just don’t do that. And he can already smell the scent of his shampoo, can feel the tiny pinpricks of high pressure water from his showerhead hitting the knots in his back. He’s daydreaming of how soft his own pillow will feel under his cheek as he pulls into his driveway. He gets out of the car and stops.
Brendon is sitting on Spencer’s front stoop. All Spencer wants is a shower, and more coffee and something to eat that resembles food and not whatever munchies Ryan keeps in his cupboards. He doesn’t want to deal with Brendon right now, even if it should be a straightforward matter now that Spencer knows what they’re going to do.
“Hey,” he says, and Brendon looks up at him miserably. Spencer feels bad for not wanting to deal with him so he sits down beside Brendon and nudges his shoulder with his own. “Turns out this isn’t such a big deal after all. No reason to freak out. We get an annulment.”
“An annulment?” Brendon repeats and Spencer nods.
“Yeah, you know, null and void. Marriage never happened. No harm no foul.”
“On what grounds?”
Spencer shrugs. “Insanity?” he says, and laughs. When Brendon doesn’t laugh too he shrugs again. “Non-consummation?”
“You sure about that?” Brendon asks, and Spencer’s pretty damn sure he’d remember if they’d had sex. It seems that would be something he would definitely remember.
“Refusal to consummate then,” he says. “That’s a good enough excuse. Although I’m pretty sure ‘fucked out of their minds’ is reason to grant it too, you know.”
Brendon laughs, but it’s humourless. “Doesn’t matter anyways,” he says. “I can’t get an annulment.”
Spencer frowns. “Why? Hey, you didn’t do anything freaky and consummate our marriage while I was unconscious, did you?” He’s joking, elbowing Brendon lightly as he says it, but Brendon gives him a miserable look.
“You don’t understand,” he says. “We got married. We made those vows. I can’t break them.”
Spencer doesn’t understand and he shakes his head a little as he says, “What are you talking about? I don’t care about those vows. Neither do you! And besides, we’re the only ones who really know we made them. So we get an annulment or a divorce or, god, whatever to end this marriage, and get on with our lives.”
He expects Brendon to smile and nod, but Brendon shakes his head sadly.
“Shane,” he says, and for a brief moment Spencer thinks Brendon means he and Shane have something going on, that this has fucked up whatever they had. Spencer’s not sure what to say about that. But then Brendon continues, “I phoned him. Told him what happened. And when he stopped laughing himself sick, he phoned my mom and told her. And she’s really, really happy.”
Spencer gives him a sceptical look. “Your mom is happy you got wasted and married a dude in Vegas?”
Brendon laughs, and it’s real this time, and fond. “Strangely? Yeah. She, well…she worries about me, I guess. Wants me to be happy. And she likes you. She thinks it was planned, that we eloped or something. She was really pissed I hadn’t told her about it. And. Uh. She wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow.”
Spencer makes a face.
“It’s okay,” Brendon says. “I told her we were flying to LA. To. Um. Sort out you moving into my place.”
Spencer nods slowly. “Right. So. Um. What?”
Brendon gives Spencer an apologetic look. “I can’t tell her it was a mistake. I can’t tell her I’m that much of a fuck up. And I can’t break those vows. They’re sacred, you know? She’d be so disappointed in me if I broke them. They all would.”
“Brendon-”
Brendon shakes his head. “You don’t get it. Your family…they’re so supportive. You could do anything and they wouldn’t question, would support you anyway. Mine…well, you know how things have been. We’re back on track now, we’re a family and I’m a part of it and I don’t want to lose that again.”
He stares at his hands as he says, “They can handle having a gay son, they can handle having a gay son with a husband. But I don’t think they could handle me breaking those vows.”
Spencer lets out a long, jagged breath into the silence that stretches between them when Brendon falls silent.
“So what are you saying?” he asks slowly.
Brendon bites his lip and takes his time looking up at Spencer. “Would it really hurt,” he asks eventually, “for us to pretend?”
“To be married?” Spencer asks, even though Brendon doesn’t need to clarify- there’s nothing else he can mean.
Brendon nods. He looks worried, like Spencer’s going to punch him for suggesting it, but Spencer sighs.
“So, what, we tell everyone we’re married? I move in with you, we let people believe what we tell them and just…get on with our lives?”
Brendon nods. “That’s what I was thinking. I mean, you said you were thinking of moving out to LA anyway, right? It’d save you looking for a place. We have a spare room, it could be yours. Shane said he doesn’t mind, as long as I carry you across the threshold or something.”
“Our friends are assholes,” Spencer says absently, but it’s true, he had been thinking about LA, about getting out of Vegas for awhile, at least. Then he shakes his head. “It won’t work. What happens when one of us wants to get married for real?”
“We deal with that then,” Brendon says. “I mean, if we’re married for awhile and then get a divorce or whatever…I’m sure my folks would understand then. I mean, they want me to be happy. I’ll tell them you left dirty socks all over the bedroom floor or something. Mom hates when Dad does that, she’d totally agree it was grounds for divorce.”
Spencer smiles. “People would think we were married,” he points out and Brendon rolls his eyes.
“That’s kinda the point.”
“I mean, not just friends and family. People you hook up with. They’d think you were married to me. Might hinder your lifestyle a little.”
Brendon shrugs. “These are the sacrifices we have to make when we become Smug Marrieds.”
“No more Bridget Jones for you,” Spencer makes a face and Brendon laughs.
“So what do you say?” Brendon asks. “Wanna move in with me and be my fake husband to keep my family happy?”
“What’s in it for me?” Spencer demands, although he’s already giving in, making plans in his head about packing and moving. A change of scenery could be good. And being married to Brendon probably wouldn’t be much different than sharing a bus with him for months and months.
Brendon waggles his eyes. “Fulfilling husbandly duties,” he says, waits a beat and then adds, “like opening jars and catching spiders and zipping up the back of my velvet evening gowns.”
Spencer smirks. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, “you’d look much better in taffeta.”
“So that’s a yes then?” Brendon asks. “Wait, wait.” He gets up and goes down on one knee in front of Spencer. Spencer laughs and bats his hand away when Brendon reaches for him.
“Stop it,” Brendon says, and manages to clasp Spencer’s hand. “Spencer James Smith,” he says solemnly. “Would you do me the honour of moving into my spare room and telling our families that we’re married, in order to get my Mom to stop nagging me to find a nice boy and settle down? Will you be my nice boy?”
Spencer grins. “Sure,” he shrugs. “Why not?”
Brendon grins back then gets to his feet and pulls Spencer up.
“You’d better start packing,” he says. “Because if we’re not in LA in the next few days, you’ll definitely have to have dinner with my parents. And I don’t think you’re ready for my mom to start hinting about grandkids.”
Spencer raises an eyebrow.
“You think I’m kidding?” Brendon asks. “Third thing she said to me after ‘Oh Brendon, why didn’t you tell us so we could be there?’ and ‘thank god it’s Spencer and not some groupie’.”
Spencer opens the front door of his house and lets Brendon inside.
“Oh hey,” Brendon adds. “We need to tell your parents too. That’ll be interesting. Poor Jackie, I think she always had a crush on me.”
Spencer thinks about having that conversation with his parents. He pulls out his phone and starts to dial, then stops.
He phones Ryan instead.
“Hey, so, moving to LA. You’re helping me pack. Tomorrow.”
Then he hangs up and goes into the kitchen to make them lunch, and swats Brendon with the oven glove when he jokes about how lucky he is to have married a domestic goddess.
~~~
“You sure you’re okay with this?” Spencer asks for the zillionth time as Shane sets a box of books down underneath the window.
Shane reaches out and ruffles his hair. “I couldn’t keep you two crazy lovebirds apart now, could I?”
Spencer flips him off as Brendon barrels into the room. He throws himself down onto the air mattress that’ll serve as Spencer’s bed until they get their shit together enough to drive out to IKEA.
“You burst it, you’re sleeping on it and I get your bed,” Spencer points at Brendon as Brendon rolls onto his back and grins up at him.
He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I knew this marriage thing was all a scheme to get into my bed,” Brendon leers, then sits up, patting the bed in an overly exaggerated manner. “Don’t worry, I won’t wound your precious mattress.”
Shane smirks and Spencer gives him a look. Even though Shane’s been a part of this whole crazy life they’ve been leading for awhile now, he’s still not immune to Spencer’s bitch looks, and it’s enough to make him stop smirking and disappear out into the hallway.
“Ugh,” Spencer says, flopping down beside Brendon. The movement makes Brendon bounce up into the air and he giggles. “I am never moving ever again,” Spencer informs Brendon. “Seriously, you are stuck with me for life now, and if you ever sell this place, you’ll have to make me part of the deal.”
Brendon nudges Spencer in the side until he looks over. “Dude,” Brendon says. “Stuck with you for life is what we vowed, so that’s no surprise. I’m totally prepared for it.”
Spencer rolls his eyes. “It’s not really for life, Bren, just until your parents won’t freak out about divorces or whatever.”
Brendon’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Right?” Spencer prompts and Brendon rolls off the air mattress and stand up.
“Woo, head rush,” he says, shaking his head a little. “And yeah, I know. I meant, it’s not like I didn’t expect to know you forever anyway, you know?”
Spencer stares at him. “Don’t get all mushy on me,” he warns and naturally Brendon makes a kissy face and dives on him.
“What’s wrong Spence?” he asks, as Spencer curls his body in on itself to avoid Brendon’s wriggling fingers and noisily pursed lips. “Dontcha love me?”
Spencer tries to fend him off, rolling away and Brendon follows. They’re both laughing when Shane clears his throat from the doorway.
Spencer tries to shove a now still Brendon off of him and looks up.
“I hate to interrupt a couple so clearly in love,” Shane smirks down at them, “but I’m ordering pizza. Figure you’ll be hungry after working up that appetite-” he pauses, raising a teasing eyebrow at where Brendon is still lying half on top of Spencer, then finishes, “from moving in.”
Brendon is on his feet in seconds. “Ooh, pizza!” he exclaims and shoves Shane out of the room. He places his hands on Shane’s shoulders as if planning on guiding him all the way to the pizza menus stuck on the refrigerator with a red bus shaped magnet Spencer knows Brendon got the last time they were in London.
“You coming?” Brendon stops and turns back to look in Spencer’s direction.
Spencer nods, and fishes his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll be right there. Better let people know I’ve moved in okay so I don’t get any more nagging texts.”
“Your mom?” Brendon asks, and Spencer laughs and shakes his head.
“No, Ryan. But I should call home too.”
“Say hi to them for me,” Brendon says. “I’ll order your usual, yeah?”
Spencer nods and sends off a quick text to Ryan once Brendon leaves. He hesitates then, just for a moment, before dialling home.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me,” Spencer says and he can hear Jackie’s smile in her voice when she says, “Spence! All moved in?”
“Yeah,” Spencer says. He bores her for a few minutes with tales of the drive from Vegas, of how great California is, then asks to speak to his mom.
It’s not until he hears her voice that Spencer realises how nervous he is to talk to her. He thinks back to the day after he and Brendon had got married. How he’d gone round and sat his parents down and said “I’m moving to LA in two days. Also, I got married yesterday. To the lead singer of my band. Surprise!” and by some miracle they had gotten over their shock pretty quickly and laughed and told him that if he needed any help, he should call them.
Spencer knows he’s lucky to have such a supportive family, has known since the band had just been starting out and he was the only one who hadn’t had to rage and struggle as much to be allowed to do what he loved. Sometimes he thinks he probably takes them for granted, but he hadn’t expected them to be so accepting, not only of the whole ‘surprise marriage’ thing but also about the ‘by the way I like guys too’ thing at the same time.
Yet they’d seemed completely unsurprised, even when he’d told them it was Brendon he’d married. Spencer’s pretty sure that says something, but he doesn’t know how to ask them about it, isn’t sure he wants to know the answer. And part of him can’t help but worry that they’re not as okay and accepting as they’d appeared.
“How’re you doing, sweetie?” his mom says, and it makes Spencer smile.
“Good,” he tells her. “I’m all moved in. The guys are ordering dinner. Brendon says hi, by the way.”
His mom’s voice is warm when she replies, “Tell Brendon we hope you’re both happy out there. And that you’re looking after each other.”
Spencer doesn’t reply straight away. “Mom?” he asks, after a lengthy pause where he struggles to find the words. “You and Dad. You are okay with this whole thing, right? I know I sprung it on you. But I hope you’re okay with it.”
“Oh Spencer. We just want you to be happy. And Brendon makes you happy. We’ve been able to see that for a long time, and I’m glad that you’re both doing what you want to do with your lives, being together. I just wish you’d invited us to the wedding. I have the perfect outfit to wear.”
Spencer grins. “Don’t worry, I’m sure the twins’ll give you a reason to wear it at some point.”
“Not soon, I hope,” she says, and launches into a story about Crystal’s latest boyfriend drama.
“Food’s here.” Brendon appears in the doorway and Spencer looks up, surprised to see the darkening sky outside. He hadn’t realised he’d been on the phone for so long, but it had been nice, in this unfamiliar place, to hear warm familiar voices.
“Mom? I have to go,” Spencer breaks in when there’s a pause in the story.
“Oh, is that Brendon?” she asks. “Let me speak to him?”
Spencer almost hesitates, but hands over the phone and Brendon leans against the windowsill as he says hello.
“Yeah, yes, it’s fine. No, it went smoothly. Yeah, it’s nice to have him here. In our home. You’re right. Okay, okay, yes, you too. Speak to you soon.”
Brendon hands the phone back and Spencer says goodbye and hangs up.
“I’m sorry you have to lie to them,” Brendon says quietly, before Spencer can say anything.
Spencer shrugs. “It’s okay. Really. They think I’m happy.”
He sees Brendon’s smile falter a little and he holds up a hand until Brendon takes it and pulls him to his feet.
“And I am,” he assures Brendon. “Really.”
He watches Brendon’s smile grow.
“I’m glad you’re here, Spence,” Brendon says, wrapping his arms around Spencer. Spencer hugs him back, smiling as Brendon’s hair tickles his nose.
He looks up when he hears a snicker and sees Shane in the doorway eating a piece of pizza. “Newly weds,” he mutters with a mocking wink, and wanders back down the hallway.
“Hey,” Spencer says, nudging at Brendon’s shoulder until he steps back. “Pizza?”
Brendon nods, still smiling. “Sounds good to me,” he says and leads the way out to the kitchen.
~~~
They make it almost three weeks with no major hiccups. Living with Brendon and Shane is a lot like living on his own or with his sisters, except with more piles of laundry sitting around and more milk being drunk straight from the carton. In fact it’s a lot like staying in the cabin- fun, but Spencer doesn’t have to put out guitar fires in the middle of the night, and he can’t get high on the roof with Jon.
They have the normal disagreements that any roommates have- people taking too long in the bathroom or not doing dishes or forgetting to pass on messages- but nothing throws a wrench in their blissful faux married union until one Saturday afternoon when Brendon wanders through the lounge with his phone attached to his ear, gnawing at his thumbnail and looking uncomfortable.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay, sure. That sounds good. Yeah, we’ll see you then. No, no we’re really looking forward to it. I mean, once I tell him, he will be too, I promise. Okay, love you too. Bye.”
“Shit,” Brendon says when he hangs up the phone.
Spencer looks up from the book he’s reading. He doesn’t move his feet when Brendon sits down on the sofa beside him, trapping them under his thigh. Spencer wiggles his toes, but Brendon doesn’t smile like he normally does.
“My parents,” he says, and Spencer puts the book down and gives Brendon his full attention. He’s still a little surprised, he has to admit, that Brendon’s parents seem to have taken the news this well, and he’s been preparing himself for them to change their minds, and for him to have to comfort Brendon.
“What’s going on?” he asks, ready to tell Brendon that it’ll be okay, that whatever’s been said wasn’t meant that way. “Are they still okay with this whole thing?”
Brendon nods slowly. “Yeah. Oh, yeah, they’re really on board with it. So on board they want to come and visit. Next weekend.”
“Uh,” Spencer says eloquently.
“I know!” Brendon exclaims, throwing up his hands, then resting them in his hair. He tugs a little and bites his lip. “They want to stay here.”
Spencer frowns. “We don’t have a spare room,” he points out.
“Oh, we do,” Brendon says. “Your room. Your room is the spare room. You are my husband and therefore we share a bed. Or so they think. Except when they come and see that you live in that room they’re going to know and-”
“I’ll just have to move in with you,” Spencer interrupts Brendon’s escalating panic, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “We’ll clear all of my stuff out of the room and put it in yours and make it look like we share it.”
Brendon looks sceptical. “Are you sure?”
Spencer shrugs. “It’s not like we’ve not shared a bed before, dude. All those motel nights, and that shitty mattress when we were recording and when you couldn’t sleep after we watched ‘It’ in the cabin and-”
“Okay then,” Brendon says quickly, looking like he doesn’t want to think about that movie ever again. “We should move you in this weekend, maybe? So it looks like you really do live in my room too.”
Spencer nods. “Okay,” he says amenably, and they spend the next day lugging Spencer’s belongings into Brendon’s room, arranging things so the room doesn’t scream ‘Brendon!’ anymore, that it screams ‘Brendon and Spencer!’ instead.
The spare room looks odd with all of Spencer’s things gone from it, so they decide to redecorate. It’s a fun way to spend the week, painting the walls in various colours that they argue over until Shane points out they all look pretty much the same anyway. They buy new curtains and bed covers and pillows, new prints to stick on the wall, then step back to admire their hard work.
“You realise you’re going to be stuck with a pale mint green room after your charade of lies is over, right?” Shane points out, and Spencer flips him off.
“I don’t care,” Spencer says.
“Your best friend is too amused by our marriage,” Spencer says to Brendon that night in bed. It’s a little bit chilly and Brendon keeps pressing his icy toes against Spencer’s ankles, even though Spencer keeps kicking him away.
“So’s yours,” Brendon retorts and hands him his phone. The top three messages are from Ryan, asking him how the Mrs. is and when he can expect a godchild.
“Seriously,” Spencer says. “Our friends are douches. I think I married the best of the bunch.”
“Aww,” Brendon says, pressing a sloppy kiss to Spencer’s cheek. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Spencer shoves him off and reaches over to switch off his bedside lamp, sending the room into darkness.
He closes his eyes and is just starting to drift off when Brendon whispers, “Spencer?” right in his ear.
“Hmm?” Spencer says, rolling over until he’s facing Brendon. He can just make out the shine of Brendon’s eyes from the sliver of light coming in through the curtains.
“Tomorrow,” Brendon whispers. “When my parents are here. Do you think it’s going to be okay? I mean, they won’t suspect, right?”
Spencer sighs. “No. They won’t suspect. We’ll make sure they don’t.”
“They’ll expect us to be…married,” Brendon emphasises and Spencer laughs.
“I figured,” he replies. “Since that’s the whole point of all this.”
“No,” Brendon insists. “I mean. They’ll expect us to act like we’re married. Be all…I don’t know, touchy and stuff.”
“Oh,” Spencer says. He hadn’t thought of that, hadn’t thought of how their behaviour would be more telling than his stuff living in Brendon’s room ever could.
“I mean, not great big shows of PDA,” Brendon adds hurriedly. “Because ew. Not in front of my parents ever. But they might…I don’t know. I mean, what if my mom insists on me taking her shopping and she waits for me to kiss you goodbye and when I don’t she’ll know and it’d be weird to kiss you like that for the first time and-”
He stops talking when Spencer leans in and presses his mouth against Brendon’s. It’s off centre because of the darkness and nothing more than a propriety peck. And it definitely doesn’t make Spencer swallow hard when he leans back and rests his head back on his pillow.
“We’ll cope,” Spencer says, voice sounding a little hoarse. He thinks it must be because it’s so late at night. “We’ll just go along with whatever happens. It’ll be okay.”
“Oh,” Brendon says, and clears his throat. “Okay.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Spencer says. “It’ll be okay. They won’t suspect a thing, I promise.”
There’s a long moment of silence.
“Goodnight,” Brendon says, eventually, but Spencer is already drifting off to sleep.
On to Part 2.
Get Up And Shake The Glitter Off Your Clothes
(Now We’re Partners In Crime)
Spencer wakes up with his face mashed into Brendon’s armpit. His mouth tastes like he’s eaten those socks they’d found in the back of the bus that one time- the ones everyone had denied ownership of and so they’d ended up staying there until the end of tour, slowly decaying in a corner.
Spencer’s front, where it’s pressed against the soft material of Brendon’s shirt, is warm from the heat of Brendon’s body, and his back is bare and cold from the air conditioning that’s cranked right up. He shivers, then wishes he hadn’t moved as a wave of nausea washes over him.
Spencer turns his head and realises he’s drooled all over Brendon’s chest. He lifts his head enough to make a face and tries to think about what had happened the night before. He finds he barely remembers it at all. It’s all flashes of light in the black hole that is his memory- people laughing, a lot of booze, Jon laughing hysterically, Cash all high and loose limbed, Brendon’s hand squeezing Spencer’s. And that’s all he remembers.
Spencer would ask Brendon if he remembers anything, but he’s started doing that horrible snoring he does sometimes when he’s drunk too much. It’s like someone’s taken a chainsaw to Spencer’s head and he groans and realises he needs to take a piss, which means moving. He doesn’t want to move, but between the increasing noise coming out of Brendon and the pressure on his bladder, he doesn’t have much of a choice.
He props himself up, hand splayed on Brendon’s stomach. He manages to rest too much weight on that arm though, so Brendon wakes up with an “Oof! Oh, fuck. My head!”
Spencer takes the opportunity to roll of the bed and onto unsteady feet. He stumbles towards a half open door and it takes him three attempts to flip up the toilet seat. He flushes and winces at the loud noise then stares in the mirror at his bloodshot eyes. Then he fills two glasses with water and manages to stumble back to the massive bed without spilling them. There’s a bottle of Advil on the bedside table and Spencer shakes a couple into his palm and swallows them down, then shakes out two more and offers them to Brendon.
Brendon wiggles about to prop himself up on the pillows and takes the water and pills Spencer offers. He swallows them and then stares down his body.
“Hey,” he says. “Where are my pants?”
Spencer finishes his water and looks Brendon up and down, over his bare legs and bright orange briefs and grey shirt that’s all rucked up around his waist. He shrugs.
He flops back into bed, face first into the pillow. It’s not the first time Spencer’s woken up in a drunken pile with one or more of his band mates or extended band family, but it’s the first time Brendon reaches over and pokes him and says “Hey what’s this?”
Spencer rolls onto his side and Brendon slaps a piece of paper against his bare chest before turning away and groping at the nightstand for his glasses. Spencer half sits up to help him (it’s not like Brendon’s blind or anything, but Spencer doesn’t mind helping out) when he catches his name on the piece of paper. He rubs at his eyes, squints and reads it.
There are three important bits of information on it.
1. It says ‘Certificate of Marriage’ across the top.
2. It has yesterday’s date on it.
3. Both Brendon and Spencer’s names are on it.
Spencer stares at it for a few moments until Brendon pulls it from his fingers, then he rolls onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling and says, “Fuck.”
A moment later Brendon echoes him and slumps back down until he’s lying beside Spencer, arms brushing. The paper flutters down onto the bed between them.
“Fuck,” Brendon says again, and Spencer’s head begins to pound with a thousand off-beat drums and he feels the panic welling in his chest.
Neither of them says anything for a long time. And then Brendon breaks into Spencer’s mental litany of ‘Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck’.
“Where are we?” he asks, and for the first time Spencer really looks around the room they’re in.
They’ve woken up in Vegas, that much Spencer knows. Places in Vegas have a gleam to them that other places just lack, and this room has it in spades.
They’re in a motel, that much is obvious too, judging by the floral sheets with matching lampshades and curtains that Spencer hopes never get opened because light is not his friend right now. Even the thin slivers coming through the gap in the curtains, giving them enough to read by, are too much and Spencer closes his eyes. He has a nasty suspicion that this motel has both a casino and chapel attached and he vaguely remembers saying “Dude, we should go to a casino” last night.
He groans and closes his eyes and tries to think clearly.
“Spence?”
Spencer turns his head and opens his eyes. Brendon’s face is just inches away and he looks scared.
“Do you remember anything?” he asks and Spencer shakes his head. The Advil seem to be kicking in because it doesn’t hurt quite as much this time.
“Me either,” Brendon said. “Where are we? What’s going on?”
Spencer wishes he had the answers, but he doesn’t. He takes a deep breath and sits up. The room doesn’t spin and his head stays attached to his shoulders so he considers it a win and reaches for a matchbook from the bedside table. He squints at the address then nods.
“I know where we are,” he says. “We should…we should go. Home. And then figure this out.”
Brendon is already getting out of bed and looking for his pants. He finds them in the bathroom and crows triumphantly far too loudly for Spencer’s head to handle.
Spencer slips on his shoes, rubs his hand over his face. He pulls on his discarded shirt and smiles in relief when his fingers close over the cool plastic of his sunglasses in the pocket.
“Maybe it’s a dream,” Brendon says, stumbling out of the bathroom, doing up his pants. “Maybe it’s a nightmare.”
“Thanks,” Spencer replies dryly. “It’s good to know that the worst thing you can imagine for a nightmare is marrying me.”
Brendon makes a face. “You know what I mean. This has got to be a mistake, right? I mean. We wouldn’t…would we?”
Spencer wants to reply ‘no, of course not’ but there’s a piece of paper that would prove him a liar so he shakes his head.
“Let’s just go,” he says, double checking the room to make sure they’ve got everything, then ushering Brendon out of the door.
They find their way down to the reception desk, and the pretty blonde behind the computer there smiles brightly at them.
“Checking out?” she chirps as Spencer slides the key towards her. She taps at the keyboard with her bright red nails and the sound feels like shards of hot metal being driven into Spencer’s skull. He keeps his big, fake, interview smile in place as she tells them how much they owe and Spencer hands over his credit card.
“Oh, hey,” Brendon says, reaching for his own wallet. “You shouldn’t have to.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Spencer tells him, then laughs. “My treat.”
The receptionist looks up and gives them the sort of look people give to puppies and babies. “How sweet,” she says, like she means it and it makes Spencer laugh again, quietly.
“There you go, sir,” she says, handing him his card back. “I hope you choose to stay with us again. And congratulations, Mr Smith,” she nods at Spencer, then looks at Brendon. “Mr Smith,” she repeats and it takes Brendon a moment to catch on.
“Why am I the bride?” Brendon demands. “Why can’t you take my name?”
Spencer gives the receptionist an even brighter smile and reaches for Brendon’s arm. Brendon moves as he grabs at him and he ends up clutching at Brendon’s hand, not his wrist like he’d intended. He squeezes, hard, and digs his nails in a little, until Brendon falls silent and gives him a reproachful look.
“Were you here last night when we, uh, checked in?” Spencer asks, and Brendon stops muttering under his breath and looks up intently.
The receptionist smiles. “No, my shift only started a few hours ago. But we have it marked on the computer that you’re newly-weds. Thank you for choosing our establishment to declare your love for one another!”
Spencer nods. “Yeah. Thanks. It’s been a very memorable experience,” he adds, pulling Brendon out into the parking lot.
“Seriously,” Brendon says. “Why do I have to change my name? Why can’t you change yours?”
“No one’s changing their name,” Spencer says. He glances around, looking to see if there are any cabs to hail, and is about to go back inside to get the receptionist to call one for them, when he spots his car.
He feels in his pocket and pulls out his car keys. “Huh,” he says. “I drove us here?”
“So it was your idea?” Brendon asks accusingly as Spencer unlocks the car and they climb inside.
“No!” Spencer replies. He takes a few moments to collect himself, fiddling with the rear view mirror and cleaning the windshield. “If anyone could come up with a dumb idea like getting married, it’d be you,” he points out and Brendon huffs and folds his arms across his chest.
He stares out the window as Spencer starts the car and pulls out onto the freeway. Brendon keeps making little annoyed noises, so Spencer reaches over and turns on the radio, volume up loud. It hurts his head, but it drowns out Brendon’s sulking at least.
Neither of them speak on their way home. Spencer pulls up outside Brendon’s parents’ place. He turns the engine off and the car descends into silence.
Spencer stares at his hands clutching the steering wheel. Even though he’s still got his shades on to protect his delicate, and apparently vodka soaked, eyeballs from the harsh sunlight, he thinks his knuckles look a little white. He relaxes and then glances across at Brendon, who’s worrying at his thumbnail. Spencer has to stop himself from reaching out and knocking Brendon’s hand away, telling him to stop.
“So,” Brendon says eventually. He nibbles a bit more, then turns his head and spits out the sliver of nail. It bounces off the dashboard and lands on the floor somewhere.
Usually Spencer would bitch him out about it, but hey, they’re apparently married now and half of his car belongs to Brendon anyway. All of their worldly possessions. Now shared.
“So,” Spencer echoes, stamping down the upwelling of panic that threatens to rise inside him.
“What do we do?” Brendon asks, staring at Spencer like he has all the answers.
‘Stop panicking’, Spencer wants to say, but he just tells himself instead, breaths slow, ignores the rush of ohmygodwhatthefuckingfuck that slams over him like a wave on a particularly choppy surf beach. “We take some time. Get rid of these hangovers. And then we figure out how to fix this.”
Brendon nods, and reaches for the door handle. He opens the door, then pauses and turns back to look at Spencer, a miserable expression on his face.
“I’m really sorry,” he says, and Spencer opens his mouth to automatically say ‘it’s not your fault’ but Brendon is already gone, hurrying up the path to his parents’ front door with his hoodie pulled up and hands shoved in his pockets.
Spencer waits until he’s safely inside then puts the car in drive and leaves. He thinks about the traffic lights, the asshole next to him in the convertible that he’s sure is meant to make up for inadequacies in other areas of the guys life, about the kids throwing a ball around in the street as he winds his way through the suburbs and lets the car roll to a stop. He very carefully doesn’t think of anything else.
He gets out, locks the car, walks up to the door and selects the correct key off his keychain. He opens the door, walks into the kitchen, helps himself to a mug of coffee and yells “RYAN!”
Spencer has almost finished his drink by the time Ryan stumbles down the stairs, feet making loud slapping noises on the wooden flooring. Spencer gets up and pours himself another drink and one for Ryan too as he blunders into the kitchen.
He gives Ryan a couple of minutes to stop blinking at him all bleary eyed and then slaps the marriage certificate down on the table in front of him.
“What the fuck happened last night?”
Ryan picks up the paper and frowns at it. “What’s this?” he asks and Spencer scowls.
“You can read, right?” he snaps. “Because if you can, you’ll see that I got married last night.”
“Congratulations!” Ryan says brightly, then stops smiling when Spencer glares at him. He wonders if Ryan’s still high, but the coffee seems to be waking him up and he looks pretty lucid.
“To Brendon,” Spencer adds and Ryan stares at him, then glances down at the paper. His lips move as he reads Brendon’s name, then he looks back up at Spencer, and laughs. He laughs really, really hard and while Spencer had expected that, he’d expected a tiny amount of sympathy too.
“Are you serious?” he asks and Spencer nods miserably. He sighs and rests his forehead on Ryan’s kitchen table, hoping that Ryan hasn’t forgotten to pay his cleaner lately and that the toast crumbs he feels sticking to his skin are yesterday’s and not last month’s.
“I can’t believe you didn’t ask me to be your best man,” Ryan says. “I didn’t even know you were engaged! Where are you registered? Put me down for a toaster.”
Spencer doesn’t lift his head when he flips Ryan off.
“Not a good thing then?” Ryan asks and Spencer laughs hollowly.
“Are you kidding?” Spencer sits up and gives Ryan an incredulous look. “I got so drunk or stoned or something that I got hitched to our lead singer. Our friend. Brendon. Brendon Urie.”
“Brendon Smith now,” Ryan says solemnly. “Unless you’re taking his name? Spencer James Urie has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
Spencer wishes he had something to throw at Ryan but the only thing to hand is his coffee mug, which is currently the most precious thing he has in his possession.
“Also,” Ryan adds, “‘stoned’ just means intoxicated, so people used to say that instead of ‘drunk’. So you could have just said ‘stoned’ then and saved a few words.”
Spencer stares at him. “You’re the best best friend ever,” he says drily.
“I try,” Ryan smiles, as Jon wanders into the kitchen in a ratty pair of sweatpants and an old grey shirt.
Jon’s humming loudly and sings “Got a few pennies, gonna buy myself a bottle of gin.” He sits down and steals Ryan’s coffee and sings “Gonna call my buddies on the telephone and say-”
He points at Spencer but Spencer just gives him a look until he lowers his finger.
“Morning,” Jon says after a beat, when it becomes clear Spencer isn’t going to sing the next line.
“Morning,” Spencer replies. “I got married last night, how’re you?”
A slow smile spreads over Jon’s face and he glances at Ryan as he shifts in his seat and leans closer. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Spencer says. “To Brendon.”
Jon’s grin gets even bigger. “To Brendon, you say. Our Brendon?”
“No,” Spencer says. “All of the other Brendon’s we know.”
“How very Mormon of you,” Ryan quips and Spencer makes a face.
“I don’t know how this happened,” he complains. “I can’t believe I was that drunk. That we were that drunk. I don’t even remember that much about last night except…there were some playing cards. And bright lights. And…” He thinks for a moment the points at Jon.
“You were there. What the fuck happened?”
Jon nods. “Yep. We were over at Cash and Deleon’s new place, remember? Bit of a house warming. The whole ‘liquor in the front, poker in the rear’ deal. It was kinda awesome and we were having a great time until there was that argument about cheating. And then you decided you wanted to go to a real casino and you and Brendon left.”
“I drove us to a casino when I was drunk?” Spencer demands. He’s not that kind of guy, so it doesn’t make sense. If he tries though, he can remember being at Cash’s place, can remember Ian and Johnson shouting at each other about cheating of some kind, and he’s starting to be really sure that he can remember suggesting a proper casino, even though most of the Cab are too young to go.
“No,” Jon shook his head. “You’d had maybe one drink. I guess when you got there, you had a few too many free drinks? And man, I bet it was a beautiful ceremony. Hey! Did you get lucky?”
Spencer glares and Jon holds his hands up, laughing. “I meant at the casino!” he grins, giving that wide eyed ‘who me?’ look they all struggle to resist.
Spencer ignores him and turns back to Ryan. He knows he must look pathetic as he asks, “I don’t know what to do,” because Ryan nods and give Spencer his ‘I am seriously thinking’ expression.
“Just get it annulled,” he says and Spencer stares at Ryan like he’s some sort of genius. He’s not sure why the thought hadn’t immediately occurred to him, but of course, an annulment would make a lot of sense. It’d be quick. It wouldn’t be messy.
“Oh thank fuck,” Spencer says, tension in his shoulders easing a little. “Of course. I’ll call the lawyer tomorrow. Get it sorted out. It’ll be fine. A funny story to tell in the future.”
“Or,” Ryan continues, thinking face still in place, “you could claim Brendon has wronged you in some way, sue him for divorce and demand half of his money.”
Jon nods at Ryan appreciatively. “Nice,” he says, and finishes Ryan’s coffee in one long gulp.
“I think I’ll stick to the annulment,” Spencer tells them. “But thanks. That was helpful.”
Ryan looks pleased with himself. “Maybe we should have something on the blog where people can ask for advice and I could help them. Dear Ryan or something.”
Spencer gives Jon a look that he hope clearly instructs him not to let Ryan do any such thing, but makes a mental note to check the blog later, just in case. He doesn’t want to have to read letters of complaint from angry parents when their kids drop out of school and start a hippie commune, or whatever it is Ryan would tell people to do.
Jon gives Spencer a big smile. “I forgot to say,” he says brightly. “Congratulations! I hope you carried your bride over the threshold.”
“Brendon’s going to be pissed you assume he’s the girl,” Spencer points out and Jon laughs, really hard this time. Spencer looks across at Ryan, and finds him giving Jon a curious look.
Spencer raises his eyebrow, just a little, and Ryan only hesitates for a moment before shrugging back. Spencer’s not sure what Ryan’s thinking, but he’ll find out, eventually. Right now he has more important things to deal with, like getting a shower and some sleep and sorting this whole marriage mess out.
“I’ll catch you guys later,” he says, standing up. He points at Jon. “Next time, remember, friends don’t let friends drunk-marry.”
Jon laughs again, snorting a little.
“Don’t you want to stay awhile?” Ryan asks. “We can work on that song. Or, hey, smoke a bowl maybe?” He says it like the thought has only just occurred to him, like it wasn’t his plan for the day all along- like it’s a special occasion thing, just because Spencer happens to be there.
“Urgh,” Spencer shakes his head, turning towards the door. “I think I’ll pass. Don’t want to accidentally marry one of you guys while I’m high too.”
“You’d pick me, right?” Ryan says, seriously, glancing over at Jon and folding his arms across his chest. “I mean. Obviously.”
Spencer just smirks and winks at Jon and leaves, smiling to himself at Ryan’s exclamation of surprise behind him.
He’s almost cheerful by the time he gets home. The whole marriage thing is going to work out and it’s not like it’s going to be weird or awkward or anything afterwards because it’s them, and they just don’t do that. And he can already smell the scent of his shampoo, can feel the tiny pinpricks of high pressure water from his showerhead hitting the knots in his back. He’s daydreaming of how soft his own pillow will feel under his cheek as he pulls into his driveway. He gets out of the car and stops.
Brendon is sitting on Spencer’s front stoop. All Spencer wants is a shower, and more coffee and something to eat that resembles food and not whatever munchies Ryan keeps in his cupboards. He doesn’t want to deal with Brendon right now, even if it should be a straightforward matter now that Spencer knows what they’re going to do.
“Hey,” he says, and Brendon looks up at him miserably. Spencer feels bad for not wanting to deal with him so he sits down beside Brendon and nudges his shoulder with his own. “Turns out this isn’t such a big deal after all. No reason to freak out. We get an annulment.”
“An annulment?” Brendon repeats and Spencer nods.
“Yeah, you know, null and void. Marriage never happened. No harm no foul.”
“On what grounds?”
Spencer shrugs. “Insanity?” he says, and laughs. When Brendon doesn’t laugh too he shrugs again. “Non-consummation?”
“You sure about that?” Brendon asks, and Spencer’s pretty damn sure he’d remember if they’d had sex. It seems that would be something he would definitely remember.
“Refusal to consummate then,” he says. “That’s a good enough excuse. Although I’m pretty sure ‘fucked out of their minds’ is reason to grant it too, you know.”
Brendon laughs, but it’s humourless. “Doesn’t matter anyways,” he says. “I can’t get an annulment.”
Spencer frowns. “Why? Hey, you didn’t do anything freaky and consummate our marriage while I was unconscious, did you?” He’s joking, elbowing Brendon lightly as he says it, but Brendon gives him a miserable look.
“You don’t understand,” he says. “We got married. We made those vows. I can’t break them.”
Spencer doesn’t understand and he shakes his head a little as he says, “What are you talking about? I don’t care about those vows. Neither do you! And besides, we’re the only ones who really know we made them. So we get an annulment or a divorce or, god, whatever to end this marriage, and get on with our lives.”
He expects Brendon to smile and nod, but Brendon shakes his head sadly.
“Shane,” he says, and for a brief moment Spencer thinks Brendon means he and Shane have something going on, that this has fucked up whatever they had. Spencer’s not sure what to say about that. But then Brendon continues, “I phoned him. Told him what happened. And when he stopped laughing himself sick, he phoned my mom and told her. And she’s really, really happy.”
Spencer gives him a sceptical look. “Your mom is happy you got wasted and married a dude in Vegas?”
Brendon laughs, and it’s real this time, and fond. “Strangely? Yeah. She, well…she worries about me, I guess. Wants me to be happy. And she likes you. She thinks it was planned, that we eloped or something. She was really pissed I hadn’t told her about it. And. Uh. She wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow.”
Spencer makes a face.
“It’s okay,” Brendon says. “I told her we were flying to LA. To. Um. Sort out you moving into my place.”
Spencer nods slowly. “Right. So. Um. What?”
Brendon gives Spencer an apologetic look. “I can’t tell her it was a mistake. I can’t tell her I’m that much of a fuck up. And I can’t break those vows. They’re sacred, you know? She’d be so disappointed in me if I broke them. They all would.”
“Brendon-”
Brendon shakes his head. “You don’t get it. Your family…they’re so supportive. You could do anything and they wouldn’t question, would support you anyway. Mine…well, you know how things have been. We’re back on track now, we’re a family and I’m a part of it and I don’t want to lose that again.”
He stares at his hands as he says, “They can handle having a gay son, they can handle having a gay son with a husband. But I don’t think they could handle me breaking those vows.”
Spencer lets out a long, jagged breath into the silence that stretches between them when Brendon falls silent.
“So what are you saying?” he asks slowly.
Brendon bites his lip and takes his time looking up at Spencer. “Would it really hurt,” he asks eventually, “for us to pretend?”
“To be married?” Spencer asks, even though Brendon doesn’t need to clarify- there’s nothing else he can mean.
Brendon nods. He looks worried, like Spencer’s going to punch him for suggesting it, but Spencer sighs.
“So, what, we tell everyone we’re married? I move in with you, we let people believe what we tell them and just…get on with our lives?”
Brendon nods. “That’s what I was thinking. I mean, you said you were thinking of moving out to LA anyway, right? It’d save you looking for a place. We have a spare room, it could be yours. Shane said he doesn’t mind, as long as I carry you across the threshold or something.”
“Our friends are assholes,” Spencer says absently, but it’s true, he had been thinking about LA, about getting out of Vegas for awhile, at least. Then he shakes his head. “It won’t work. What happens when one of us wants to get married for real?”
“We deal with that then,” Brendon says. “I mean, if we’re married for awhile and then get a divorce or whatever…I’m sure my folks would understand then. I mean, they want me to be happy. I’ll tell them you left dirty socks all over the bedroom floor or something. Mom hates when Dad does that, she’d totally agree it was grounds for divorce.”
Spencer smiles. “People would think we were married,” he points out and Brendon rolls his eyes.
“That’s kinda the point.”
“I mean, not just friends and family. People you hook up with. They’d think you were married to me. Might hinder your lifestyle a little.”
Brendon shrugs. “These are the sacrifices we have to make when we become Smug Marrieds.”
“No more Bridget Jones for you,” Spencer makes a face and Brendon laughs.
“So what do you say?” Brendon asks. “Wanna move in with me and be my fake husband to keep my family happy?”
“What’s in it for me?” Spencer demands, although he’s already giving in, making plans in his head about packing and moving. A change of scenery could be good. And being married to Brendon probably wouldn’t be much different than sharing a bus with him for months and months.
Brendon waggles his eyes. “Fulfilling husbandly duties,” he says, waits a beat and then adds, “like opening jars and catching spiders and zipping up the back of my velvet evening gowns.”
Spencer smirks. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, “you’d look much better in taffeta.”
“So that’s a yes then?” Brendon asks. “Wait, wait.” He gets up and goes down on one knee in front of Spencer. Spencer laughs and bats his hand away when Brendon reaches for him.
“Stop it,” Brendon says, and manages to clasp Spencer’s hand. “Spencer James Smith,” he says solemnly. “Would you do me the honour of moving into my spare room and telling our families that we’re married, in order to get my Mom to stop nagging me to find a nice boy and settle down? Will you be my nice boy?”
Spencer grins. “Sure,” he shrugs. “Why not?”
Brendon grins back then gets to his feet and pulls Spencer up.
“You’d better start packing,” he says. “Because if we’re not in LA in the next few days, you’ll definitely have to have dinner with my parents. And I don’t think you’re ready for my mom to start hinting about grandkids.”
Spencer raises an eyebrow.
“You think I’m kidding?” Brendon asks. “Third thing she said to me after ‘Oh Brendon, why didn’t you tell us so we could be there?’ and ‘thank god it’s Spencer and not some groupie’.”
Spencer opens the front door of his house and lets Brendon inside.
“Oh hey,” Brendon adds. “We need to tell your parents too. That’ll be interesting. Poor Jackie, I think she always had a crush on me.”
Spencer thinks about having that conversation with his parents. He pulls out his phone and starts to dial, then stops.
He phones Ryan instead.
“Hey, so, moving to LA. You’re helping me pack. Tomorrow.”
Then he hangs up and goes into the kitchen to make them lunch, and swats Brendon with the oven glove when he jokes about how lucky he is to have married a domestic goddess.
~~~
“You sure you’re okay with this?” Spencer asks for the zillionth time as Shane sets a box of books down underneath the window.
Shane reaches out and ruffles his hair. “I couldn’t keep you two crazy lovebirds apart now, could I?”
Spencer flips him off as Brendon barrels into the room. He throws himself down onto the air mattress that’ll serve as Spencer’s bed until they get their shit together enough to drive out to IKEA.
“You burst it, you’re sleeping on it and I get your bed,” Spencer points at Brendon as Brendon rolls onto his back and grins up at him.
He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I knew this marriage thing was all a scheme to get into my bed,” Brendon leers, then sits up, patting the bed in an overly exaggerated manner. “Don’t worry, I won’t wound your precious mattress.”
Shane smirks and Spencer gives him a look. Even though Shane’s been a part of this whole crazy life they’ve been leading for awhile now, he’s still not immune to Spencer’s bitch looks, and it’s enough to make him stop smirking and disappear out into the hallway.
“Ugh,” Spencer says, flopping down beside Brendon. The movement makes Brendon bounce up into the air and he giggles. “I am never moving ever again,” Spencer informs Brendon. “Seriously, you are stuck with me for life now, and if you ever sell this place, you’ll have to make me part of the deal.”
Brendon nudges Spencer in the side until he looks over. “Dude,” Brendon says. “Stuck with you for life is what we vowed, so that’s no surprise. I’m totally prepared for it.”
Spencer rolls his eyes. “It’s not really for life, Bren, just until your parents won’t freak out about divorces or whatever.”
Brendon’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Right?” Spencer prompts and Brendon rolls off the air mattress and stand up.
“Woo, head rush,” he says, shaking his head a little. “And yeah, I know. I meant, it’s not like I didn’t expect to know you forever anyway, you know?”
Spencer stares at him. “Don’t get all mushy on me,” he warns and naturally Brendon makes a kissy face and dives on him.
“What’s wrong Spence?” he asks, as Spencer curls his body in on itself to avoid Brendon’s wriggling fingers and noisily pursed lips. “Dontcha love me?”
Spencer tries to fend him off, rolling away and Brendon follows. They’re both laughing when Shane clears his throat from the doorway.
Spencer tries to shove a now still Brendon off of him and looks up.
“I hate to interrupt a couple so clearly in love,” Shane smirks down at them, “but I’m ordering pizza. Figure you’ll be hungry after working up that appetite-” he pauses, raising a teasing eyebrow at where Brendon is still lying half on top of Spencer, then finishes, “from moving in.”
Brendon is on his feet in seconds. “Ooh, pizza!” he exclaims and shoves Shane out of the room. He places his hands on Shane’s shoulders as if planning on guiding him all the way to the pizza menus stuck on the refrigerator with a red bus shaped magnet Spencer knows Brendon got the last time they were in London.
“You coming?” Brendon stops and turns back to look in Spencer’s direction.
Spencer nods, and fishes his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll be right there. Better let people know I’ve moved in okay so I don’t get any more nagging texts.”
“Your mom?” Brendon asks, and Spencer laughs and shakes his head.
“No, Ryan. But I should call home too.”
“Say hi to them for me,” Brendon says. “I’ll order your usual, yeah?”
Spencer nods and sends off a quick text to Ryan once Brendon leaves. He hesitates then, just for a moment, before dialling home.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me,” Spencer says and he can hear Jackie’s smile in her voice when she says, “Spence! All moved in?”
“Yeah,” Spencer says. He bores her for a few minutes with tales of the drive from Vegas, of how great California is, then asks to speak to his mom.
It’s not until he hears her voice that Spencer realises how nervous he is to talk to her. He thinks back to the day after he and Brendon had got married. How he’d gone round and sat his parents down and said “I’m moving to LA in two days. Also, I got married yesterday. To the lead singer of my band. Surprise!” and by some miracle they had gotten over their shock pretty quickly and laughed and told him that if he needed any help, he should call them.
Spencer knows he’s lucky to have such a supportive family, has known since the band had just been starting out and he was the only one who hadn’t had to rage and struggle as much to be allowed to do what he loved. Sometimes he thinks he probably takes them for granted, but he hadn’t expected them to be so accepting, not only of the whole ‘surprise marriage’ thing but also about the ‘by the way I like guys too’ thing at the same time.
Yet they’d seemed completely unsurprised, even when he’d told them it was Brendon he’d married. Spencer’s pretty sure that says something, but he doesn’t know how to ask them about it, isn’t sure he wants to know the answer. And part of him can’t help but worry that they’re not as okay and accepting as they’d appeared.
“How’re you doing, sweetie?” his mom says, and it makes Spencer smile.
“Good,” he tells her. “I’m all moved in. The guys are ordering dinner. Brendon says hi, by the way.”
His mom’s voice is warm when she replies, “Tell Brendon we hope you’re both happy out there. And that you’re looking after each other.”
Spencer doesn’t reply straight away. “Mom?” he asks, after a lengthy pause where he struggles to find the words. “You and Dad. You are okay with this whole thing, right? I know I sprung it on you. But I hope you’re okay with it.”
“Oh Spencer. We just want you to be happy. And Brendon makes you happy. We’ve been able to see that for a long time, and I’m glad that you’re both doing what you want to do with your lives, being together. I just wish you’d invited us to the wedding. I have the perfect outfit to wear.”
Spencer grins. “Don’t worry, I’m sure the twins’ll give you a reason to wear it at some point.”
“Not soon, I hope,” she says, and launches into a story about Crystal’s latest boyfriend drama.
“Food’s here.” Brendon appears in the doorway and Spencer looks up, surprised to see the darkening sky outside. He hadn’t realised he’d been on the phone for so long, but it had been nice, in this unfamiliar place, to hear warm familiar voices.
“Mom? I have to go,” Spencer breaks in when there’s a pause in the story.
“Oh, is that Brendon?” she asks. “Let me speak to him?”
Spencer almost hesitates, but hands over the phone and Brendon leans against the windowsill as he says hello.
“Yeah, yes, it’s fine. No, it went smoothly. Yeah, it’s nice to have him here. In our home. You’re right. Okay, okay, yes, you too. Speak to you soon.”
Brendon hands the phone back and Spencer says goodbye and hangs up.
“I’m sorry you have to lie to them,” Brendon says quietly, before Spencer can say anything.
Spencer shrugs. “It’s okay. Really. They think I’m happy.”
He sees Brendon’s smile falter a little and he holds up a hand until Brendon takes it and pulls him to his feet.
“And I am,” he assures Brendon. “Really.”
He watches Brendon’s smile grow.
“I’m glad you’re here, Spence,” Brendon says, wrapping his arms around Spencer. Spencer hugs him back, smiling as Brendon’s hair tickles his nose.
He looks up when he hears a snicker and sees Shane in the doorway eating a piece of pizza. “Newly weds,” he mutters with a mocking wink, and wanders back down the hallway.
“Hey,” Spencer says, nudging at Brendon’s shoulder until he steps back. “Pizza?”
Brendon nods, still smiling. “Sounds good to me,” he says and leads the way out to the kitchen.
~~~
They make it almost three weeks with no major hiccups. Living with Brendon and Shane is a lot like living on his own or with his sisters, except with more piles of laundry sitting around and more milk being drunk straight from the carton. In fact it’s a lot like staying in the cabin- fun, but Spencer doesn’t have to put out guitar fires in the middle of the night, and he can’t get high on the roof with Jon.
They have the normal disagreements that any roommates have- people taking too long in the bathroom or not doing dishes or forgetting to pass on messages- but nothing throws a wrench in their blissful faux married union until one Saturday afternoon when Brendon wanders through the lounge with his phone attached to his ear, gnawing at his thumbnail and looking uncomfortable.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay, sure. That sounds good. Yeah, we’ll see you then. No, no we’re really looking forward to it. I mean, once I tell him, he will be too, I promise. Okay, love you too. Bye.”
“Shit,” Brendon says when he hangs up the phone.
Spencer looks up from the book he’s reading. He doesn’t move his feet when Brendon sits down on the sofa beside him, trapping them under his thigh. Spencer wiggles his toes, but Brendon doesn’t smile like he normally does.
“My parents,” he says, and Spencer puts the book down and gives Brendon his full attention. He’s still a little surprised, he has to admit, that Brendon’s parents seem to have taken the news this well, and he’s been preparing himself for them to change their minds, and for him to have to comfort Brendon.
“What’s going on?” he asks, ready to tell Brendon that it’ll be okay, that whatever’s been said wasn’t meant that way. “Are they still okay with this whole thing?”
Brendon nods slowly. “Yeah. Oh, yeah, they’re really on board with it. So on board they want to come and visit. Next weekend.”
“Uh,” Spencer says eloquently.
“I know!” Brendon exclaims, throwing up his hands, then resting them in his hair. He tugs a little and bites his lip. “They want to stay here.”
Spencer frowns. “We don’t have a spare room,” he points out.
“Oh, we do,” Brendon says. “Your room. Your room is the spare room. You are my husband and therefore we share a bed. Or so they think. Except when they come and see that you live in that room they’re going to know and-”
“I’ll just have to move in with you,” Spencer interrupts Brendon’s escalating panic, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “We’ll clear all of my stuff out of the room and put it in yours and make it look like we share it.”
Brendon looks sceptical. “Are you sure?”
Spencer shrugs. “It’s not like we’ve not shared a bed before, dude. All those motel nights, and that shitty mattress when we were recording and when you couldn’t sleep after we watched ‘It’ in the cabin and-”
“Okay then,” Brendon says quickly, looking like he doesn’t want to think about that movie ever again. “We should move you in this weekend, maybe? So it looks like you really do live in my room too.”
Spencer nods. “Okay,” he says amenably, and they spend the next day lugging Spencer’s belongings into Brendon’s room, arranging things so the room doesn’t scream ‘Brendon!’ anymore, that it screams ‘Brendon and Spencer!’ instead.
The spare room looks odd with all of Spencer’s things gone from it, so they decide to redecorate. It’s a fun way to spend the week, painting the walls in various colours that they argue over until Shane points out they all look pretty much the same anyway. They buy new curtains and bed covers and pillows, new prints to stick on the wall, then step back to admire their hard work.
“You realise you’re going to be stuck with a pale mint green room after your charade of lies is over, right?” Shane points out, and Spencer flips him off.
“I don’t care,” Spencer says.
“Your best friend is too amused by our marriage,” Spencer says to Brendon that night in bed. It’s a little bit chilly and Brendon keeps pressing his icy toes against Spencer’s ankles, even though Spencer keeps kicking him away.
“So’s yours,” Brendon retorts and hands him his phone. The top three messages are from Ryan, asking him how the Mrs. is and when he can expect a godchild.
“Seriously,” Spencer says. “Our friends are douches. I think I married the best of the bunch.”
“Aww,” Brendon says, pressing a sloppy kiss to Spencer’s cheek. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Spencer shoves him off and reaches over to switch off his bedside lamp, sending the room into darkness.
He closes his eyes and is just starting to drift off when Brendon whispers, “Spencer?” right in his ear.
“Hmm?” Spencer says, rolling over until he’s facing Brendon. He can just make out the shine of Brendon’s eyes from the sliver of light coming in through the curtains.
“Tomorrow,” Brendon whispers. “When my parents are here. Do you think it’s going to be okay? I mean, they won’t suspect, right?”
Spencer sighs. “No. They won’t suspect. We’ll make sure they don’t.”
“They’ll expect us to be…married,” Brendon emphasises and Spencer laughs.
“I figured,” he replies. “Since that’s the whole point of all this.”
“No,” Brendon insists. “I mean. They’ll expect us to act like we’re married. Be all…I don’t know, touchy and stuff.”
“Oh,” Spencer says. He hadn’t thought of that, hadn’t thought of how their behaviour would be more telling than his stuff living in Brendon’s room ever could.
“I mean, not great big shows of PDA,” Brendon adds hurriedly. “Because ew. Not in front of my parents ever. But they might…I don’t know. I mean, what if my mom insists on me taking her shopping and she waits for me to kiss you goodbye and when I don’t she’ll know and it’d be weird to kiss you like that for the first time and-”
He stops talking when Spencer leans in and presses his mouth against Brendon’s. It’s off centre because of the darkness and nothing more than a propriety peck. And it definitely doesn’t make Spencer swallow hard when he leans back and rests his head back on his pillow.
“We’ll cope,” Spencer says, voice sounding a little hoarse. He thinks it must be because it’s so late at night. “We’ll just go along with whatever happens. It’ll be okay.”
“Oh,” Brendon says, and clears his throat. “Okay.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Spencer says. “It’ll be okay. They won’t suspect a thing, I promise.”
There’s a long moment of silence.
“Goodnight,” Brendon says, eventually, but Spencer is already drifting off to sleep.
On to Part 2.