Call It Home | Spencer/Brendon | ~ 35000 words | NC-17 | AU | Part 4/4
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
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Spencer doesn't see Brendon over the weekend, and when it comes time for lunch on Monday morning, he's worked himself into a bit of a panic.
Brendon chats away easily while Spencer pokes at his food. It's easy to listen to Brendon. Spencer likes the sound of his voice, likes hearing what he has to say. Brendon doesn't seem to be looking for interaction, just filling in the space, which is exactly what Spencer needs right now. He's relieved to be let off the hook.
Spencer takes a bite of his green Jello. He moves his foot away when he feels Brendon's knee brush against his. He wants to ask if Brendon is mad at him, but he knows that Brendon would never say anything if he were. Spencer hates thinking that Brendon could be upset and not say anything. Spencer's used to Ryan's bluntness, to how straightforward Jon is. He's used to being honest with people, and being able to assume that they're likewise being honest with him. Something in Brendon's cheerful blathering unnerves Spencer.
"I've got a bunch of work," Spencer says, realizing only as he's spoken that he has interrupted Brendon mid-sentence. "I'd better get back to it."
Brendon smiles easily, and says, "Sure thing."
Spencer hides in the bathroom for twenty minutes before finally walking back to his office.
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Ryan calls on Wednesday night and tells Spencer to bring salmon over so that they can barbecue.
He asks, "Brendon likes fish, right?" and Spencer says, "I'll ask him," without thinking.
Then, he has to call Brendon and ask if he likes fish. He could have told Ryan that Brendon wasn't coming, but he doesn't have an excuse ready, and anyway, it's not fair to uninvite Brendon, just because it's easier for Spencer's guilty conscience.
Spencer calls Brendon, remembers belatedly that Brendon has fish for pets, wishes desperately that he were nearer to a wall so that he could bang his head.
"Salmon is... bigger," Spencer tries. "It's not a cute looking fish."
"Well as long as it's unattractive," Brendon says, laughing.
Spencer feels his face twitch, smiles stupidly without meaning to. He wishes that Brendon were here with him right now, instead of on the other side of the line. He wishes that Brendon would want to be here with him, alone with him, and then feels stupid and creepy.
Spencer realizes that Brendon's still talking and asks, "Pardon?"
"Nothing important," Brendon says. "It was nice of you to call and ask."
"Do you want a ride over to Ryan's?" Spencer offers.
"It's okay," Brendon says. "I can figure out the skytrain route."
"Yeah, sure," Spencer says. His rib cage feels tight; Brendon doesn't even want to be alone in the transport with him anymore. Spencer has completely fucked things up. He says, "Well, I'll see you then," and ends the call without waiting for Brendon to respond.
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"Dude, what's up with you?" Ryan asks, cornering Spencer in the hallway.
"What?" Spencer asks. "Nothing. Why?"
"You're being all cranky-faced."
"I'm just tired," Spencer says. He's been friends with Ryan for as long as he can remember, but there are just some things that he'll never be able to tell him. Things like: I took advantage of a former sex slave and now he doesn't trust me anymore, and I don't trust me either because I completely misread the situation, and obviously I have no idea what's actually going on so I should just fuck off before I make everything worse. Do you think that you and Jon could have Brendon over on a separate night from me in the future? Spencer doesn't want to fuck things up for Brendon with Ryan and Jon.
"Then start looking tired and stop glaring at your lap. Brendon looks like he's sitting on pins and needles. I think you're stressing him out."
"Brendon looks upset?" Spencer asks, feeling his face fall even further.
"I think he's worried about you," Ryan says. "Did something happen at work?"
"No," Spencer says. "Nothing happened at work."
"Oh my god, what?" Ryan demands. "You look like someone just killed your best friend. Cheer up, Spence, I'm still right here."
Spencer cracks a little smile, and nods. "I know."
--
Spencer doesn't offer Brendon a ride home; he doesn't want to put Brendon in the awkward position of having to refuse him. They make their way down the walkway, and Spencer veers away quickly when he gets to his transport, saying goodbye quickly to Brendon and then driving away.
He takes an aggressively hot shower when he gets home, and still goes to bed feeling grimy.
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"You said that you'd show me around the campus sometime," Brendon says at lunch. "Would you still be willing to do that?"
"What? Yeah, yeah, of course," Spencer says, surprised that Brendon is asking him. They've been eating lunch together all this week, but haven't otherwise seen each other.
Brendon seems friendly, seems reasonably cheerful, like maybe he's relieved that they can go back to just being friends. Spencer feels awkward all the time, but he thinks it's just him. Brendon probably feels better now that he doesn't think that Spencer -- expects things from him. Brendon wasn't doing that blatant come-on stuff, not like when he first was on Spencer's ship, and that's probably why Spencer didn't realize at first.
"Have you signed up for classes?" Spencer asks. "It's only spring. Do you know what buildings you're going to be in?"
"Not yet," Brendon says. "We don't have to go now. I just thought maybe it'd be cool to check it out. And then we could go for coffee or something." Brendon looks sideways at Spencer.
"Umm, sure," Spencer says. "Did you have a time in mind?"
"Are you busy tonight?" Brendon asks.
Spencer shakes his head. "It might be better to go in the day, though. Most places are going to be closed this late."
"That's okay," Brendon says, shrugging. "I'll have to go up again anyway."
"You want to meet there?" Spencer asks. "Or, I mean. I could pick you up."
"If you wouldn't mind..." Brendon says.
"No, yeah, that's fine," Spencer says. "What time should I head over?"
--
Spencer wipes his palms on his pants and takes a breath before lifting his hand to knock on Brendon's door. He feels all dumb and clenchy inside when he sees Brendon. Still feels all dumb and clenchy, even after all that's happened. He hates that he looks at Brendon and wants to be close to him, even now that he knows Brendon sees him just like the other men back on his planet. At least they can still be friends. Brendon's become a part of Spencer's daily life, and it would suck to lose that. Spencer's slow to warm, but once he's there, it's hard for him to turn back off again.
Brendon answers, and he's wearing a black button up and skinny jeans. Spencer swallows, forces a smile.
"You want to come in for a bit?" Brendon offers.
Brendon's apartment is small but tidy, most of the space taken up with musical instruments.
Brendon pulls his shoulders back and says, "I made macaroni for supper, and there are still leftovers, if you-- if you would like some." He raises his eyebrows and looks at Spencer.
Spencer shakes his head and says, "I already ate." Brendon's face seems to fall, so Spencer adds, "But thanks anyway."
"Maybe later," Brendon says. "Thanks for coming tonight."
Spencer nods, rubbing his shoulder. He feels nervous.
When Brendon starts saying, "I know that I fu--" Spencer feels himself frowning, and Brendon must notice, too, because he corrects himself. "I know that everything got fucked up, but maybe I can-- but maybe it--"
Brendon takes a deep breath, glancing up at Spencer and smiling nervously, then he takes a step forward, another one, until he's right in front of Spencer. He touches his fingertips to Spencer's chest, lifts up on his toes, and presses his lips to Spencer's.
Spencer is so surprised that he jerks backwards, knocking Brendon's hand away. Brendon recoils immediately, and starts apologizing.
Spencer shakes his head because, no, Brendon doesn't have to apologize. It's not him.
Brendon raises his hand to run his fingers through his hair, tugging sharply. He lowers his hand deliberately back to his side, and Spencer can see the way it's shaking.
Spencer starts saying, "You don't--" have to, but his voice comes out gruff, and Brendon cuts him off, saying, "I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I thought--"
Spencer shakes his head. He feels sick with himself, feels so horrible that he's somehow managed to communicate to Brendon that he has to do that. Like maybe Brendon thinks that Spencer will only hang out with him if Brendon offers sex in return. He doesn't know what to do, and Brendon looks so fucking sad right now.
Spencer opens his mouth, but can't find any words, so after a minute of silence, he turns on his heels and flees. He sits in his transport, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, makes himself breathe slowly before turning on the transport and driving himself back home.
He walks into his own apartment, wants to call Brendon and apologize, wants to call Ryan and ask for advice, walks into the kitchen instead and eats four pieces of leftover chicken.
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On Friday, Spencer runs down to the cafeteria at 11 and buys lunch from one of the machines, takes it back to his office and eats there.
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He spends the weekend lying on his couch and watching cooking holograms. They're designed to sit on the counter in the kitchen, so that he can follow along as he cooks the meal, but he sets it on the coffee table instead. He considers going to the store to buy a flan pan, but doesn't end up leaving his house at all, and eats three packages of cookies instead.
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It's Wednesday night and Spencer is sitting alone in his kitchen, working his way through a bottle of bourbon, which is the only thing left in his liquor cabinet. He really needs to start leaving his house beyond just going to work, because he's running out of supplies, and it's just not as satisfying to mope in an apartment without any food or drink.
It's not satisfying to mope in his apartment, period, but Spencer feels, just privately in the back of his mind, like he's going through a breakup, so getting drunk by himself is totally warranted. Plus the part where it turns out that he's an asshole and now he doesn't get to see Brendon anymore, and he really wishes that Brendon were here right now. He misses Brendon, and he doesn't even get to see him at lunch, because of the plan Spencer has of eating alone in his office. He needs to remove himself from Brendon's life so that he doesn't make things any worse. He misses Brendon. He wonders if it's a relief for Brendon that he's not around.
Spencer finishes what's left in his glass, then keeps the glass tipped up, poking out his tongue to get one of the smaller ice cubes. All of the ice cubes are pretty small, really. Spencer has refilled his glass a whole bunch of times. He probably should get new ice.
He's very busy crunching on his ice cube, and at first he doesn't notice the noise. He holds his jaw still and-- yeah, there it is again: banging.
Spencer swallows the little fragments of ice and stands up. It sounds like there's someone at his door.
He walks to the door, opens it, and there is Brendon. Spencer blinks. It's still Brendon. It's still Brendon standing in the hallway, like Spencer called him here with the power of his mind. He feels himself getting a little teary. Not really, it's just that Brendon's right here and Spencer missed him.
"Hi," Spencer says. "It's you."
"It's me," Brendon agrees. He isn't smiling. He says, "I was worried about you. I haven't seen you at lunch, and I thought maybe you were sick or something."
Spencer takes a step back, holding the door open so that Brendon can come inside.
Brendon starts walking, but when he gets close to Spencer he freezes, his brow wrinkling, then takes a half-step backward.
"No," Spencer says, grabbing for Brendon's forearm with clumsy fingers. "Don't go."
Brendon's body is frozen. He doesn't recoil when Spencer reaches for him, but his face-- doesn't look right. He doesn't look happy, and Spencer doesn't know what he's doing wrong, and that sucks. It sucks that he can't figure things out with Brendon. Spencer doesn't want to be an asshole all the time.
"I'm sorry," Spencer says, slurring his words. "Brendon, I'm sorry, please don't go away."
Brendon smiles, that stupid blank smile that Spencer hates, because Brendon's smiling but he doesn't actually look happy.
Spencer manages to get Brendon into the living room. He touches Brendon's arm, and Brendon's right there and Spencer doesn't want to let him go. Also, the ground is a little unstable right now or something, because Spencer isn't steady on his feet.
"Thank you for coming," Spencer says. "I am not sick. Well, I'm pretty drunk, so I might be sick, but I haven't been sick yet."
"Yeah, so I can smell," Brendon says. He says it and then he clamps his lips shut, looking at Spencer with big eyes.
Spencer pats Brendon's elbow apologetically. He doesn't know why Brendon looks so stricken. It's true; Spencer does smell like he's been drinking.
Brendon keeps eyeing him, and he looks wary, looks like he's waiting for something, but Spencer doesn't know what he should do.
"I'm not too good at-- figuring stuff out," Spencer tries. "So I didn't know that you thought-- I didn't know that it wasn't for you like it was for me, right? Because, because I really like you, and I'm sorry that you, I'm sorry that--"
Spencer swallows, but it doesn't help the nausea. He lets go of Brendon's arm and runs to the bathroom.
Throwing up sucks. His head is spinning and he can't even believe how much there was in his stomach because he throws up and he throws up and he throws up and his throat hurts and he wants to stop puking.
He doesn't even realize that Brendon's there, but when he finally lifts his head out of the toilet, Brendon reaches down and helps pull him to his feet. They both sway, but Brendon manages to get his balance, steadying both of them.
"You want to go to bed or stay here in case you need to puke some more?" Brendon asks.
"I'm not going to puke anymore," Spencer says with a raspy voice. "There is nothing left inside of me to throw up. Not even internal organs. I am all hollowed out, and I think that's why my chest hurts so bad." He leans heavily on Brendon, rubbing his cheek against Brendon's hair. Brendon smells good.
"Maybe you'll feel better once you're lying down," Brendon says. He walks Spencer over to his bedroom, and helps him lie down.
Spencer's bed is really soft, and it's nice not to be moving anymore.
"Your shirt is dirty," Brendon says. "You want me to help you take it off?"
Spencer nods, but then catches himself. "You don't have to," he tells Brendon. "You don't have to-- anything." Spencer's throat feels sharp and tight, and he should stop talking, but he doesn't. "I'm sorry that people-- and that your brain was all fucked up, and it was supposed to be better once we got here, but I've fucked that up too, and I didn't mean to."
While Spencer's rambling, Brendon works on his shirt, undoes the line of buttons with nimble fingers.
"Where should I put this?" Brendon asks after pulling Spencer's shirt off.
Spencer takes it from him and chucks it onto the floor. "I'll put it away in the morning."
Brendon stands up straight -- he's been bent over so that he could reach Spencer -- and Spencer asks, "Are you leaving?"
"Do you want me to?" Brendon asks.
"No," Spencer says, sadly. "I was thinking about you, and now you're here and I don't want you to go again, but you can if you want to."
"I thought you didn't want to see me anymore," Brendon says.
"I always want to see you," says Spencer. "That's the problem." He sighs.
Brendon sits down on the edge of the bed. "I can stay for a while," he says.
Spencer rolls away, making more room for Brendon. Brendon pulls himself onto the bed, leans back against the wall and stretches out his legs. He asks, "Are you going to go to sleep now?"
"My head is spinning," Spencer says. "I don't know if I can."
Brendon reaches over and touches Spencer's forehead. Spencer turns, tipping his face toward Brendon. Brendon combs his finger through Spencer's hair and it feels good. Spencer's so happy that he's here.
He scoots over, a little closer and a little closer until he's pressed right beside Brendon's thigh. He wiggles around, and somehow his head ends up in Brendon's lap. He wonders if that's okay, but when he tilts his head up, he sees that Brendon is smiling down at him. Spencer wraps his hand around Brendon's leg, petting his thigh with clumsy fingers, while Brendon strokes his hair.
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Spencer wakes to his alarm in the morning. His head throbs and his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth, and Brendon isn't there.
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Spencer legitimately does not think he will be able to keep down lunch. He goes to the cafeteria to grab a bottle of water, and intends on heading back to his office, but when Brendon waves at him from a table, Spencer walks over and sits down.
"How're you feeling?" Brendon asks.
"Not too good," Spencer says. "So about what I deserve." He twists off the cap of the water bottle, but doesn't lift it to his mouth and drink. "I'm sorry if I acted like an asshole."
"You were fine," Brendon says. "I knew that you were just drunk."
"Not just, not just last night," Spencer says, looking at his water bottle. "I've been-- fuck." He scrubs the back of his hand across his forehead, before finally looking over at Brendon.
Brendon pauses before saying, "You want to get together sometime? When we're not at work and you're not hung over."
"Yeah," Spencer says gratefully.
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"You want anything?" Spencer offers.
"I'm all right, thanks," Brendon says.
Spencer nods, fiddling with the waistband of his jeans for lack of anything better to do with his hands. He's had a few days to think about what he was going to say, but now that Brendon's here, he's still at a loss for words.
"Thanks for coming," Spencer says. "I wasn't sure if-- I didn't know if it would be weird for you to come here again."
"Why would it be weird for me to come to your place?" Brendon asks.
"After-- after what happened last time," Spencer says. "Look, I just-- I'm really sorry about what happened."
"Me, too," Brendon says. "I mean, I'm sorry, too. I wasn't thinking, and I should have-- but I wasn't thinking, and I'm really sorry that I offended you, because I didn't even think about--"
"Wait, what?" Spencer asks. "What are you sorry for?"
"I was just nervous," Brendon says. "Before, when I wasn't-- if you'd just given me a minute, I totally would have--"
"After you found out you were supposed to?" Spencer asks. "Brendon, that's--"
"No, not--" Brendon exhales loudly through his nose before saying, "It wasn't that I didn't want to. It wasn't anything except that I was nervous."
"That's what I'm saying," Spencer says. "I didn't know that I was making you nervous, and I totally should have--"
"You weren't making me nervous," Brendon interrupts. "I was just kind of freaking myself out, because, like, it was the first time that we'd-- and I wasn't sure what you'd like and stuff, so, like--"
"What?" Spencer asks. "Brendon, I know that I freaked you out. You called me sir."
"Almost called you sir," Brendon corrects. "And that was just, that was just me. That's not anything about you."
"How could that possibly not be about me?" Spencer asks.
"I spent about a million years learning that I was supposed to be respectful," Brendon says. "I got all flustered and that was my automatic response, and I didn't mean-- that was just me."
"I thought that you thought that I was like them," Spencer says.
"No," Brendon says, looking straight at Spencer.
"Oh."
Brendon's voice is quiet when he says, "Is that why you don't like me anymore? Because I reminded you about what I used to -- do?"
Spencer shakes his head vigorously and says, "I do like you."
"That's what you said the other night," Brendon says, frowning. "But you wouldn't-- you didn't let me kiss you."
"I thought you were only doing that because you thought you had to."
"Why would I possibly think that I had to kiss you?"
"Because-- maybe somehow I had made it seem like-- you had to-- sex stuff," Spencer finally forces out.
"What the fuck would kissing have to do with sex stuff?" Brendon asks. "I've never kissed any of the people I've had sex with."
Brendon looks upset to be talking about this, more agitated than he's seemed for the rest of the conversation.
Spencer opens his mouth to speak, but Brendon cuts him off, saying, "You're dumb and also an asshole," which makes Spencer blink. It's true, but it's still surprising for Brendon to call him on it. The good kind of surprising.
"I told you," Brendon says, "that kissing wasn't-- that it was just for-- I told you and you knew, and you still--"
"I don't think I really got it," Spencer says. "Like that that was how you still thought, or, I mean. I wasn't trying to push some huge thing on you."
"That part was fine," Brendon says. "But then you just wouldn't any more, and what the fuck was I supposed to think?"
"That I'm an idiot," Spencer says. "Seriously, I did not mean for that to be anything other than letting you off the hook."
"What fucking hook would I be on?" Brendon asks. His cheeks are flushed, and he looks furious. He lifts his hand, banging it onto his thigh and grinding in the knuckles.
"Hey," Spencer says, reaching out to touch his fingers to Brendon's elbow. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean anything."
"I've been really--" Brendon starts. "And I thought that you--"
"Me too," Spencer says. "But you still came to see me."
"I was worried," Brendon says, giving Spencer a cranky face. "Just because you didn't-- I still--"
"I never didn't," Spencer says. "Seriously. I was just trying to back off because I thought that you weren't--"
"Well, I was," Brendon says.
"Okay," Spencer says, squeezing Brendon's elbow. "Okay, good."
Brendon's hand goes loose, and then slowly his fingers reach out to hook in Spencer's belt loops, moving carefully so that Spencer's hand isn't moved away.
"I was really glad you came," Spencer says, "the other night. I'm really glad you're here now. You want to go watch something? Chill out for a bit before I drive you home?"
Brendon nods, and they walk to the couch.
They sit with a couple feet of space between them. The remote control is within reach, but Spencer doesn't move.
After a long stretch of silence, Brendon asks, "Is it all right if --" and Spencer nods before even trying to figure out what Brendon means. Whatever it is, Spencer will agree to it.
Brendon moves over until he's sitting right beside Spencer again. He touches his fingers to the back of Spencer's hand. Spencer's digging his fingers into his thigh, but he makes himself relax, turning his hand over and letting Brendon touch his wrist, his palm, with hesitant fingers.
Brendon's hand eventually comes to rest on Spencer's forearm, and he leans to the side, tilting his head so that he can lean on Spencer's shoulder.
He's hardly touching Spencer, just two points of contact, but Spencer's pretty sure that that's because he's holding himself back, not because he doesn't really want to be touched.
Spencer's already fucked up so much, and he hopes like fuck that he's not just making it worse. He turns his torso, moving his arm out from under Brendon's hand, but quickly wrapping it around Brendon's shoulders so that it's clear he's not trying to move him away. He reaches with his other hand, resting his palm on the flat of Brendon's back, and after he pulls gently, Brendon crumbles in, his face smooshing against Spencer's shoulder and his arms sliding around Spencer's waist.
Spencer can feel Brendon's body moving, these little twitches. Spencer can feel how tense Brendon is, and he hugs him tighter, holds on until finally Brendon slumps forward, the tension melting out of his body.
Eventually Brendon sighs, and presses a kiss to the side of Spencer's neck. Spencer loosens his arms, but doesn't let go.
"No one ever touched me except during sex," Brendon says. "And then I was supposed to leave right afterwards." He runs his hand slowly up Spencer's back and says, "I really like this."
"Do you want to stay over tonight?" Spencer asks. "We can sleep together." Brendon has said a couple of times how weird it is to get used to being in an apartment by himself. He'd had his own room, but there were always other people around, and he isn't used to the quiet.
"Yeah," Brendon says. "Yeah, thanks."
Spencer stands, and he leaves his arm resting on Brendon's shoulders as they walk over to the bedroom.
Once they're there, Spencer passes Brendon a pair of his pyjamas, joking, "Just like old times, huh?"
Brendon laughs. "Yeah."
Spencer knows that nudity doesn't bother Brendon, so he doesn't bother leaving the room to get changed, just pulls off his clothes quickly and slides on the pjs. Brendon finishes at the same time as him, and Spencer walks over to the bed and pulls down the comforters.
"If you want, I could rub your back," Spencer offers.
"Sure," Brendon says immediately. "What should I do?"
"Just lie down," Spencer says. "If you take off your shirt, I can use cream."
While Brendon pulls off his shirt, Spencer walks into the bathroom and grabs a bottle of lotion. He walks back in the bedroom and finds Brendon lying down on his stomach, his arms folded under his head.
Spencer sits down on the bed beside him. He squirts cream into his palm then rubs his hands together to warm it up. Brendon moves his head to rest his cheek on his forearm, his head turned toward Spencer. He smiles at Spencer, this warm, soft look, and Spencer reaches over to smooth his hands down Brendon's back.
Brendon's got scars on his back, long lines that have grown faint with time. They've obviously healed, so Spencer touches them just like anywhere else, moving his hands in slow sweeps so that he can coat Brendon's back with lotion.
"Is it okay if I sit on you?" Spencer asks. "To get a better angle."
"Yeah," Brendon says. His voice sounds relaxed already.
Spencer moves himself carefully, straddling Brendon, but holding up most of his own weight. He bends over and starts working his thumbs in slow circles over Brendon's upper back.
"Can you tell me what feels good?" Spencer asks as he starts to work his way down Brendon's back.
"Everything," Brendon says. "Your hands."
Brendon's head is still turned to the side, and Spencer reaches up to brush his fingers over Brendon's cheek before returning to work on Brendon's back.
He rubs Brendon's back until Brendon goes liquid under his hands, sinking into the bed. Brendon breathes loud and steadily, and when Spencer finally moves onto the bed beside him, he rolls onto his side and blinks sleepily at Spencer.
"That felt really good," he says in a gravelly voice. "Like, really, really good."
Spencer smooths his hand over Brendon's hair and grins.
"Is there anything you'd like me to--?" Brendon asks.
"I'm ready to go to sleep now if you are," Spencer says.
Brendon hums, then wiggles up beside Spencer, squirming around until Spencer rolls onto his side and Brendon can curl up behind him, his arm wrapped around Spencer's waist and his nose tucked into the curve of Spencer's neck.
Spencer doesn't think he'll fall asleep right away, but Brendon's warm behind him, and he ends up dropping off quickly.
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In the morning he makes pancake batter, and Brendon drizzles it onto the pan, trying to form shapes.
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"So," Pete says. "What's up and stuff?" He leans back in his chair, his feet up on the desk and his hands crossed behind his head.
"You know," Spencer says. "The usual." He's not entirely sure as to the purpose of yearly employee evaluations -- career projectory planning sessions? Something like that? Spencer can't remember what they're technically called, but it involves meeting with Pete for twenty minutes and then filling out a bunch of forms. Nothing ever happens in the government without a million forms.
"Cool," Pete says.
"Yup."
"Any plans for the new year? Goals?"
Spencer shrugs.
"More of the same?" Pete asks.
"Maybe," Spencer says after a pause, "maybe not as many off-world missions."
Pete leans forward and starts poking at the touchscreen of the data pad. "Fewer... off-planet... missions," he narrates as he fills in some text field. He looks up and asks, "Any particular reason for the change?"
Spencer shrugs again. "Just feel like staying put, I guess."
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"What time do you want me to pick you up?" Spencer asks. "Ryan said to be there before seven."
Brendon shrugs, and takes another bite of his apple. "I don't have anything planned in the ... hour there will be between getting home from work and leaving for Ryan's. Whatever's good for you."
"You want to just come back to my place straight away?" Spencer asks.
"Sure," Brendon says. He holds out his apple and asks, "Do you want the rest of this? It's sour."
Spencer likes sour apples just fine because they're usually firmer, so he takes it from Brendon. They're sitting close together, and Spencer can feel the heat of Brendon's shoulder just brushing up against his. Brendon's always a few degrees warmer than Spencer.
Brendon makes a little puckery face, swallows the rest of his bite of apple and then licks his lips. Spencer looks down at his tray. He feels that low tug in his belly, just like whenever he's with Brendon.
"Come find me when you're ready to leave," Brendon says. He bumps his foot against Spencer's, underneath the table, then pushes his tray away. "See you in a few hours," he says, standing up.
--
Ryan and Jon are drinking beer as they putter around the kitchen, and when Ryan passes one to Spencer, he accepts without thinking. It's not until he's halfway through it and Brendon comes upstairs after going to greet the pets in the basement that he thinks anything of it.
"Can I open one for you?" Jon offers when Brendon walks into the kitchen.
"I'm all right," Brendon says, shaking his head.
Spencer's fingers tighten around the neck of his bottle, and he sets it onto the counter, crossing the kitchen to stand beside Brendon.
"How come you don't drink?" Spencer asks, keeping his voice low. There's music playing, and Ryan and Jon are chattering to each other, so it isn't likely that they'll overhear.
Brendon shrugs. "I haven't ever had alcohol before."
"Did other people drink?" Spencer asks. "On your planet?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. "Not a lot, but sometimes the master would." Brendon crosses his arms across his chest, looks straight ahead. "And his guests."
"And that was... not good?" Spencer asks.
Brendon nods, but doesn't say anything else.
"And you weren't allowed to drink? Do you want to try?" he asks. "You could finish the rest of my beer. I won't have anything else, but you could if you wanted."
Brendon looks sideways at Spencer. "Maybe sometime," he says. "I think-- maybe sometime. Not here, okay?"
"Yeah, for sure," Spencer says.
Brendon relaxes, leaning back against the counter instead of holding himself straight up. He angles his body toward Spencer. He says, "Maybe some time when it's just us."
"Okay," Spencer says.
Before he can say anything else, Ryan says loudly, "Spencer, I think it's time to flip the chicken pieces over."
"Yeah, yeah," Spencer says. "I'm coming. Ryan, what the hell are you trying to do with that spoon? Put that down."
--
"How's the fish doing?" Spencer asks, parking the transport in front of Brendon's apartment building.
"Good," Brendon says. "Really good. You want to come up and see him?"
"Sure," Spencer says. "Where should I park?"
"I think I've got the spot numbered 897," Brendon says. "See if you can find that."
--
Spencer walks up with Brendon, but doesn't bother taking off his shoes when they walk into the entrance, figuring that he'll be leaving quickly.
"You want to feed the fish?" Brendon asks. "See if he remembers you?"
"I value each and every one of my fingers," Spencer says. "So, no."
Brendon laughs. He takes off his jacket and hangs it in the closet before turning back to Spencer, who's standing by the door.
"You want to come in for a bit?" he asks.
Spencer bends over, and unlaces his shoes.
--
Brendon's sitting sideways on the couch, one leg bent up, nearly touching his chest, the other dangling off the edge of the couch. He tips his head to press his cheek against the couch.
Spencer's staring, and he knows he's staring. Brendon looks tired -- Spencer feels tired; it's well past two -- and it's time for Spencer to leave, but instead he's sitting on the couch, staring at Brendon.
They spent a few hours talking, and now they're not not-talking, they just aren't saying anything. Spencer should leave now.
Brendon lifts his hand, rubs the back of his neck while he yawns.
Spencer rolls his shoulders to make his back crack, and says, "'kay, I'm off." He rolls his shoulders again, blinking quickly to try and wake himself up. Maybe he can stand outside for a bit and the fresh air will help to wake him up.
"You should sleep here tonight," Brendon says. "It's late to drive home, and. I liked sleeping with you."
Spencer's brain is foggy, and he doesn't think he's following the conversation very well. He says, "Okay," and lets Brendon take his hand and lead him to the bedroom.
"I like sleeping naked," Brendon says, standing at the foot of the bed. "You'll have to bring over a pair of your own pyjamas next time. I don't know how you like wearing so much to bed."
Spencer shrugs.
"You can wear your clothes tonight if you want," Brendon warns, "But I'm going to sleep naked."
He starts stripping, walking over to hang his jeans in the closet. Spencer hesitates for a moment before taking off his as well.
He feels like a dork, trying to shake his jeans off. He has to bend over -- stupid long legs -- and it takes him twice as long to get naked as it takes Brendon, and then he's naked and standing in Brendon's bedroom.
Brendon's naked, too, and stupidly hot just like he always is. He walks to the bed and pulls back the comforter, climbing up and shuffling over to make room for Spencer. Brendon reaches up to hit the light switch, and then they're lying in the dark.
Brendon's bed smells like Brendon, and also Brendon smells like Brendon. Spencer would have thought that he'd fall immediately to sleep, but as he lies on his back and tries to breathe slowly, he doesn't feel tired at all.
Brendon shifts, rolling over, and Spencer holds still. He's surprised when Brendon's shuffling ends with him stretched out close beside Spencer, his knees bumping up against the outside of Spencer's leg.
Spencer turns his neck and sees Brendon looking at him, squinting in the dark. Brendon smiles quickly, then scoots even closer.
Spencer doesn't expect the touch, and he jerks a little when Brendon's fingers brush over his stomach, the muscles tightening. Brendon keeps his touch gentle, doesn't pull away. He flattens his palm tentatively over Spencer's belly, and Spencer reaches over, wraps his fingers around Brendon's wrist to hold him in place. Brendon's hand is hot, and when Spencer takes a deep breath, he can feel their skin sticking together.
"Thanks for humouring me," Brendon whispers.
"I'm not humouring you," Spencer says, his fingers tightening around Brendon's wrist.
Brendon opens his mouth, but seems to change his mind and ends up saying, "My sheets are really soft. You would not be able to appreciate that if you were wearing clothes."
Spencer flexes his calves, stretching his legs out. Brendon's sheets are soft, and now that they've been lying in bed for a while, they're starting to feel warm. Brendon's thumb strokes slow circles, pressing just hard enough that it doesn't tickle. Spencer slides his hand up Brendon's arm and cups his palm around Brendon's shoulder.
"Yeah," Spencer says. "You have a good bed situation. I like your pillow."
"Thank you," Brendon says. "I picked everything out." He laughs softly, then runs his hand up to the bottom of Spencer's ribcage, back down again. "I like your belly."
"Thank you," Spencer says.
Brendon pushes up with one arm, holding himself up with his elbow. He leans in until his face is a few inches away from Spencer's.
Spencer holds his breath as Brendon hovers above him for a long moment, before finally ducking down and pressing their lips together. He kisses Spencer closed mouthed and a little clumsy, and when he lifts his head again, Spencer opens his eyes and says, "Thank you for humouring me."
"I'm not humouring you," Brendon says, bending down again.
They kiss and kiss and kiss until Spencer's tongue is dry and his lips feel like they're buzzing. Brendon's skin is soft and firm and Spencer uses his fingertips to map out of the stretch of his back, the curve of his hips. He touches Brendon's shoulders, feeling the lines where the muscles flex as Brendon holds himself up.
Brendon shifts, stretches out with his thigh in between Spencer's, his cock pressed against Spencer's hip, just pressed at first but Spencer arches up and soon Brendon's grinding down, sliding further on top of Spencer so that they can rub together.
Spencer runs his hand down Brendon's side, touches his hipbone. Brendon's cock fits just right in his hand. Spencer moves his hand up the shaft and the skin feels soft, smooth, until he gets to the crown. He rubs his thumb over the head and his finger slips wetly.
"Is this okay?" he asks, rubbing his thumb up and down the slit.
"So far so good," Brendon says, laughing breathlessly. His voice sounds tight, but in a good way, tight like how Spencer can feel that the muscles in Brendon's stomach are clenched, like how Brendon's started rocking down, speeding Spencer's hand along.
Spencer cups his hand over the head of Brendon's dick, smears the precome around, but the friction gets rough pretty quick. He pulls his hand away quickly to lick it wet, and when he grabs Brendon's dick again, Brendon arches and groans. Spencer can squeeze more tightly now, and he jerks Brendon quickly, twisting his thumb on each up stroke. He reaches with his other hand and cups Brendon's balls, just holding because he can't manage much more in this position.
Spencer looks down between their bodies, but he can't see much. Brendon's head is tipped forward. Spencer wishes that Brendon would turn his head so that he could kiss him again.
Brendon makes a little mewing sound, his hips jerking sharply. He comes and it feels wet on Spencer's stomach, sticky. He keeps moving his hand until Brendon shudders and starts shying away, and then he lets go.
Brendon tips sideways, sprawling on the bed. He kicks out his legs and lifts the closest one, draping it over Spencer's thigh. He rolls in, butts his head against Spencer's shoulder, laughs, this breathless giddy sound, and Spencer feels stupid with affection for him.
Brendon moves around, his limbs curling and straightening like he's swimming. He makes a happy humming sound, and Spencer laughs as well, reaches over to scratch his fingers through Brendon's hair.
Brendon lifts himself up, looks straight at Spencer while he says, "I'm glad you're sleeping over tonight."
Spencer starts to say, "Me, too," but Brendon's ducked down and he takes Spencer's dick in his mouth, and Spencer loses his train of thought.
--
"The sun's going to rise soon," Spencer says. He's curled around Brendon's back, his head resting close beside Brendon's on the pillow.
"Lucky it's the weekend," Brendon says.
Spencer slides his hand down Brendon's chest, his belly, stopping when the heel of his hand bumps against Brendon's cock, hard again.
"I'm going to blow you now, okay?" Spencer says, reaching for Brendon's shoulder to pull him onto his back.
"Okay," Brendon murmurs, his dick giving a little twitch as Spencer starts to lean in.
--
--
--
Spencer wakes in the early afternoon, rolling from one side to the other in search of Brendon, but apparently Brendon's already out of bed.
Spencer gets up, walks out of the bedroom and is relieved to find Brendon sitting on the couch, a bowl on the coffee table in front of him.
"I was hungry," Brendon says. "You want some cereal?"
"Not yet," Spencer says. "Thanks."
He sits on the couch beside Brendon and then remembers that he's still naked. He reaches behind himself for the blanket that's draped over the back of the couch, and spreads it out over his lap, offering Brendon a corner.
"You okay?" Spencer asks.
"Yeah," Brendon says, his voice rising at the end, like he's not sure what Spencer's asking.
"Because... last night, and then you weren't there when I woke up," Spencer says.
Brendon gives him a long look and then makes a face. "You always get so worried about such stupid things," Brendon says. "I'm not going to be traumatized by sex."
Spencer shrugs his shoulder, his palm facing out. "I just-- I just don't want you to feel like, I don't know, to feel like... before."
Brendon rolls his eyes. "It's not like fucking and sucking was the hard part," he says. "It was shitty when the master gave me to his friends, and they thought I should be able to take two at the same time. Or when the master got drunk and he'd get hard but he couldn't get off, no matter what I did, and then he got mad. Or when he wanted to fuck me the day after he'd been mad. It's not the same with you, and if you don't understand that then maybe you shouldn't be having sex."
Brendon looks so cranky, and Spencer tries to keep his mouth closed so that the hysterical giggles won't escape, but he makes a stupid snorting noise, and Brendon gives him suspicious eyes.
"I'm sorry," Spencer says quickly. "I'm sorry, you know how I get."
"Oh my god, what?" Brendon asks. "No one's brain is getting fried."
"I know," Spencer says. "I'm just really relieved."
Brendon makes a little snarly face at him, then leans sideways, throwing his arm around Spencer's shoulder and pecking him on the head, a hard press of his lips.
"I know way more about sex than you do," Brendon says after Spencer has slouched down enough to rest his head on Brendon's shoulder. "You should really be following my lead here."
"You give better head than I do," Spencer agrees.
Brendon's silent for a long moment before he finally concedes, "You give pretty good head, too."
Spencer turns his head, presses his smile into Brendon's collarbone.
--
--
--
Spencer doesn't see Brendon over the weekend, and when it comes time for lunch on Monday morning, he's worked himself into a bit of a panic.
Brendon chats away easily while Spencer pokes at his food. It's easy to listen to Brendon. Spencer likes the sound of his voice, likes hearing what he has to say. Brendon doesn't seem to be looking for interaction, just filling in the space, which is exactly what Spencer needs right now. He's relieved to be let off the hook.
Spencer takes a bite of his green Jello. He moves his foot away when he feels Brendon's knee brush against his. He wants to ask if Brendon is mad at him, but he knows that Brendon would never say anything if he were. Spencer hates thinking that Brendon could be upset and not say anything. Spencer's used to Ryan's bluntness, to how straightforward Jon is. He's used to being honest with people, and being able to assume that they're likewise being honest with him. Something in Brendon's cheerful blathering unnerves Spencer.
"I've got a bunch of work," Spencer says, realizing only as he's spoken that he has interrupted Brendon mid-sentence. "I'd better get back to it."
Brendon smiles easily, and says, "Sure thing."
Spencer hides in the bathroom for twenty minutes before finally walking back to his office.
--
--
--
Ryan calls on Wednesday night and tells Spencer to bring salmon over so that they can barbecue.
He asks, "Brendon likes fish, right?" and Spencer says, "I'll ask him," without thinking.
Then, he has to call Brendon and ask if he likes fish. He could have told Ryan that Brendon wasn't coming, but he doesn't have an excuse ready, and anyway, it's not fair to uninvite Brendon, just because it's easier for Spencer's guilty conscience.
Spencer calls Brendon, remembers belatedly that Brendon has fish for pets, wishes desperately that he were nearer to a wall so that he could bang his head.
"Salmon is... bigger," Spencer tries. "It's not a cute looking fish."
"Well as long as it's unattractive," Brendon says, laughing.
Spencer feels his face twitch, smiles stupidly without meaning to. He wishes that Brendon were here with him right now, instead of on the other side of the line. He wishes that Brendon would want to be here with him, alone with him, and then feels stupid and creepy.
Spencer realizes that Brendon's still talking and asks, "Pardon?"
"Nothing important," Brendon says. "It was nice of you to call and ask."
"Do you want a ride over to Ryan's?" Spencer offers.
"It's okay," Brendon says. "I can figure out the skytrain route."
"Yeah, sure," Spencer says. His rib cage feels tight; Brendon doesn't even want to be alone in the transport with him anymore. Spencer has completely fucked things up. He says, "Well, I'll see you then," and ends the call without waiting for Brendon to respond.
--
--
--
"Dude, what's up with you?" Ryan asks, cornering Spencer in the hallway.
"What?" Spencer asks. "Nothing. Why?"
"You're being all cranky-faced."
"I'm just tired," Spencer says. He's been friends with Ryan for as long as he can remember, but there are just some things that he'll never be able to tell him. Things like: I took advantage of a former sex slave and now he doesn't trust me anymore, and I don't trust me either because I completely misread the situation, and obviously I have no idea what's actually going on so I should just fuck off before I make everything worse. Do you think that you and Jon could have Brendon over on a separate night from me in the future? Spencer doesn't want to fuck things up for Brendon with Ryan and Jon.
"Then start looking tired and stop glaring at your lap. Brendon looks like he's sitting on pins and needles. I think you're stressing him out."
"Brendon looks upset?" Spencer asks, feeling his face fall even further.
"I think he's worried about you," Ryan says. "Did something happen at work?"
"No," Spencer says. "Nothing happened at work."
"Oh my god, what?" Ryan demands. "You look like someone just killed your best friend. Cheer up, Spence, I'm still right here."
Spencer cracks a little smile, and nods. "I know."
--
Spencer doesn't offer Brendon a ride home; he doesn't want to put Brendon in the awkward position of having to refuse him. They make their way down the walkway, and Spencer veers away quickly when he gets to his transport, saying goodbye quickly to Brendon and then driving away.
He takes an aggressively hot shower when he gets home, and still goes to bed feeling grimy.
--
--
--
"You said that you'd show me around the campus sometime," Brendon says at lunch. "Would you still be willing to do that?"
"What? Yeah, yeah, of course," Spencer says, surprised that Brendon is asking him. They've been eating lunch together all this week, but haven't otherwise seen each other.
Brendon seems friendly, seems reasonably cheerful, like maybe he's relieved that they can go back to just being friends. Spencer feels awkward all the time, but he thinks it's just him. Brendon probably feels better now that he doesn't think that Spencer -- expects things from him. Brendon wasn't doing that blatant come-on stuff, not like when he first was on Spencer's ship, and that's probably why Spencer didn't realize at first.
"Have you signed up for classes?" Spencer asks. "It's only spring. Do you know what buildings you're going to be in?"
"Not yet," Brendon says. "We don't have to go now. I just thought maybe it'd be cool to check it out. And then we could go for coffee or something." Brendon looks sideways at Spencer.
"Umm, sure," Spencer says. "Did you have a time in mind?"
"Are you busy tonight?" Brendon asks.
Spencer shakes his head. "It might be better to go in the day, though. Most places are going to be closed this late."
"That's okay," Brendon says, shrugging. "I'll have to go up again anyway."
"You want to meet there?" Spencer asks. "Or, I mean. I could pick you up."
"If you wouldn't mind..." Brendon says.
"No, yeah, that's fine," Spencer says. "What time should I head over?"
--
Spencer wipes his palms on his pants and takes a breath before lifting his hand to knock on Brendon's door. He feels all dumb and clenchy inside when he sees Brendon. Still feels all dumb and clenchy, even after all that's happened. He hates that he looks at Brendon and wants to be close to him, even now that he knows Brendon sees him just like the other men back on his planet. At least they can still be friends. Brendon's become a part of Spencer's daily life, and it would suck to lose that. Spencer's slow to warm, but once he's there, it's hard for him to turn back off again.
Brendon answers, and he's wearing a black button up and skinny jeans. Spencer swallows, forces a smile.
"You want to come in for a bit?" Brendon offers.
Brendon's apartment is small but tidy, most of the space taken up with musical instruments.
Brendon pulls his shoulders back and says, "I made macaroni for supper, and there are still leftovers, if you-- if you would like some." He raises his eyebrows and looks at Spencer.
Spencer shakes his head and says, "I already ate." Brendon's face seems to fall, so Spencer adds, "But thanks anyway."
"Maybe later," Brendon says. "Thanks for coming tonight."
Spencer nods, rubbing his shoulder. He feels nervous.
When Brendon starts saying, "I know that I fu--" Spencer feels himself frowning, and Brendon must notice, too, because he corrects himself. "I know that everything got fucked up, but maybe I can-- but maybe it--"
Brendon takes a deep breath, glancing up at Spencer and smiling nervously, then he takes a step forward, another one, until he's right in front of Spencer. He touches his fingertips to Spencer's chest, lifts up on his toes, and presses his lips to Spencer's.
Spencer is so surprised that he jerks backwards, knocking Brendon's hand away. Brendon recoils immediately, and starts apologizing.
Spencer shakes his head because, no, Brendon doesn't have to apologize. It's not him.
Brendon raises his hand to run his fingers through his hair, tugging sharply. He lowers his hand deliberately back to his side, and Spencer can see the way it's shaking.
Spencer starts saying, "You don't--" have to, but his voice comes out gruff, and Brendon cuts him off, saying, "I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I thought--"
Spencer shakes his head. He feels sick with himself, feels so horrible that he's somehow managed to communicate to Brendon that he has to do that. Like maybe Brendon thinks that Spencer will only hang out with him if Brendon offers sex in return. He doesn't know what to do, and Brendon looks so fucking sad right now.
Spencer opens his mouth, but can't find any words, so after a minute of silence, he turns on his heels and flees. He sits in his transport, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, makes himself breathe slowly before turning on the transport and driving himself back home.
He walks into his own apartment, wants to call Brendon and apologize, wants to call Ryan and ask for advice, walks into the kitchen instead and eats four pieces of leftover chicken.
--
--
--
On Friday, Spencer runs down to the cafeteria at 11 and buys lunch from one of the machines, takes it back to his office and eats there.
--
He spends the weekend lying on his couch and watching cooking holograms. They're designed to sit on the counter in the kitchen, so that he can follow along as he cooks the meal, but he sets it on the coffee table instead. He considers going to the store to buy a flan pan, but doesn't end up leaving his house at all, and eats three packages of cookies instead.
--
--
--
It's Wednesday night and Spencer is sitting alone in his kitchen, working his way through a bottle of bourbon, which is the only thing left in his liquor cabinet. He really needs to start leaving his house beyond just going to work, because he's running out of supplies, and it's just not as satisfying to mope in an apartment without any food or drink.
It's not satisfying to mope in his apartment, period, but Spencer feels, just privately in the back of his mind, like he's going through a breakup, so getting drunk by himself is totally warranted. Plus the part where it turns out that he's an asshole and now he doesn't get to see Brendon anymore, and he really wishes that Brendon were here right now. He misses Brendon, and he doesn't even get to see him at lunch, because of the plan Spencer has of eating alone in his office. He needs to remove himself from Brendon's life so that he doesn't make things any worse. He misses Brendon. He wonders if it's a relief for Brendon that he's not around.
Spencer finishes what's left in his glass, then keeps the glass tipped up, poking out his tongue to get one of the smaller ice cubes. All of the ice cubes are pretty small, really. Spencer has refilled his glass a whole bunch of times. He probably should get new ice.
He's very busy crunching on his ice cube, and at first he doesn't notice the noise. He holds his jaw still and-- yeah, there it is again: banging.
Spencer swallows the little fragments of ice and stands up. It sounds like there's someone at his door.
He walks to the door, opens it, and there is Brendon. Spencer blinks. It's still Brendon. It's still Brendon standing in the hallway, like Spencer called him here with the power of his mind. He feels himself getting a little teary. Not really, it's just that Brendon's right here and Spencer missed him.
"Hi," Spencer says. "It's you."
"It's me," Brendon agrees. He isn't smiling. He says, "I was worried about you. I haven't seen you at lunch, and I thought maybe you were sick or something."
Spencer takes a step back, holding the door open so that Brendon can come inside.
Brendon starts walking, but when he gets close to Spencer he freezes, his brow wrinkling, then takes a half-step backward.
"No," Spencer says, grabbing for Brendon's forearm with clumsy fingers. "Don't go."
Brendon's body is frozen. He doesn't recoil when Spencer reaches for him, but his face-- doesn't look right. He doesn't look happy, and Spencer doesn't know what he's doing wrong, and that sucks. It sucks that he can't figure things out with Brendon. Spencer doesn't want to be an asshole all the time.
"I'm sorry," Spencer says, slurring his words. "Brendon, I'm sorry, please don't go away."
Brendon smiles, that stupid blank smile that Spencer hates, because Brendon's smiling but he doesn't actually look happy.
Spencer manages to get Brendon into the living room. He touches Brendon's arm, and Brendon's right there and Spencer doesn't want to let him go. Also, the ground is a little unstable right now or something, because Spencer isn't steady on his feet.
"Thank you for coming," Spencer says. "I am not sick. Well, I'm pretty drunk, so I might be sick, but I haven't been sick yet."
"Yeah, so I can smell," Brendon says. He says it and then he clamps his lips shut, looking at Spencer with big eyes.
Spencer pats Brendon's elbow apologetically. He doesn't know why Brendon looks so stricken. It's true; Spencer does smell like he's been drinking.
Brendon keeps eyeing him, and he looks wary, looks like he's waiting for something, but Spencer doesn't know what he should do.
"I'm not too good at-- figuring stuff out," Spencer tries. "So I didn't know that you thought-- I didn't know that it wasn't for you like it was for me, right? Because, because I really like you, and I'm sorry that you, I'm sorry that--"
Spencer swallows, but it doesn't help the nausea. He lets go of Brendon's arm and runs to the bathroom.
Throwing up sucks. His head is spinning and he can't even believe how much there was in his stomach because he throws up and he throws up and he throws up and his throat hurts and he wants to stop puking.
He doesn't even realize that Brendon's there, but when he finally lifts his head out of the toilet, Brendon reaches down and helps pull him to his feet. They both sway, but Brendon manages to get his balance, steadying both of them.
"You want to go to bed or stay here in case you need to puke some more?" Brendon asks.
"I'm not going to puke anymore," Spencer says with a raspy voice. "There is nothing left inside of me to throw up. Not even internal organs. I am all hollowed out, and I think that's why my chest hurts so bad." He leans heavily on Brendon, rubbing his cheek against Brendon's hair. Brendon smells good.
"Maybe you'll feel better once you're lying down," Brendon says. He walks Spencer over to his bedroom, and helps him lie down.
Spencer's bed is really soft, and it's nice not to be moving anymore.
"Your shirt is dirty," Brendon says. "You want me to help you take it off?"
Spencer nods, but then catches himself. "You don't have to," he tells Brendon. "You don't have to-- anything." Spencer's throat feels sharp and tight, and he should stop talking, but he doesn't. "I'm sorry that people-- and that your brain was all fucked up, and it was supposed to be better once we got here, but I've fucked that up too, and I didn't mean to."
While Spencer's rambling, Brendon works on his shirt, undoes the line of buttons with nimble fingers.
"Where should I put this?" Brendon asks after pulling Spencer's shirt off.
Spencer takes it from him and chucks it onto the floor. "I'll put it away in the morning."
Brendon stands up straight -- he's been bent over so that he could reach Spencer -- and Spencer asks, "Are you leaving?"
"Do you want me to?" Brendon asks.
"No," Spencer says, sadly. "I was thinking about you, and now you're here and I don't want you to go again, but you can if you want to."
"I thought you didn't want to see me anymore," Brendon says.
"I always want to see you," says Spencer. "That's the problem." He sighs.
Brendon sits down on the edge of the bed. "I can stay for a while," he says.
Spencer rolls away, making more room for Brendon. Brendon pulls himself onto the bed, leans back against the wall and stretches out his legs. He asks, "Are you going to go to sleep now?"
"My head is spinning," Spencer says. "I don't know if I can."
Brendon reaches over and touches Spencer's forehead. Spencer turns, tipping his face toward Brendon. Brendon combs his finger through Spencer's hair and it feels good. Spencer's so happy that he's here.
He scoots over, a little closer and a little closer until he's pressed right beside Brendon's thigh. He wiggles around, and somehow his head ends up in Brendon's lap. He wonders if that's okay, but when he tilts his head up, he sees that Brendon is smiling down at him. Spencer wraps his hand around Brendon's leg, petting his thigh with clumsy fingers, while Brendon strokes his hair.
--
--
Spencer wakes to his alarm in the morning. His head throbs and his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth, and Brendon isn't there.
--
Spencer legitimately does not think he will be able to keep down lunch. He goes to the cafeteria to grab a bottle of water, and intends on heading back to his office, but when Brendon waves at him from a table, Spencer walks over and sits down.
"How're you feeling?" Brendon asks.
"Not too good," Spencer says. "So about what I deserve." He twists off the cap of the water bottle, but doesn't lift it to his mouth and drink. "I'm sorry if I acted like an asshole."
"You were fine," Brendon says. "I knew that you were just drunk."
"Not just, not just last night," Spencer says, looking at his water bottle. "I've been-- fuck." He scrubs the back of his hand across his forehead, before finally looking over at Brendon.
Brendon pauses before saying, "You want to get together sometime? When we're not at work and you're not hung over."
"Yeah," Spencer says gratefully.
--
--
--
"You want anything?" Spencer offers.
"I'm all right, thanks," Brendon says.
Spencer nods, fiddling with the waistband of his jeans for lack of anything better to do with his hands. He's had a few days to think about what he was going to say, but now that Brendon's here, he's still at a loss for words.
"Thanks for coming," Spencer says. "I wasn't sure if-- I didn't know if it would be weird for you to come here again."
"Why would it be weird for me to come to your place?" Brendon asks.
"After-- after what happened last time," Spencer says. "Look, I just-- I'm really sorry about what happened."
"Me, too," Brendon says. "I mean, I'm sorry, too. I wasn't thinking, and I should have-- but I wasn't thinking, and I'm really sorry that I offended you, because I didn't even think about--"
"Wait, what?" Spencer asks. "What are you sorry for?"
"I was just nervous," Brendon says. "Before, when I wasn't-- if you'd just given me a minute, I totally would have--"
"After you found out you were supposed to?" Spencer asks. "Brendon, that's--"
"No, not--" Brendon exhales loudly through his nose before saying, "It wasn't that I didn't want to. It wasn't anything except that I was nervous."
"That's what I'm saying," Spencer says. "I didn't know that I was making you nervous, and I totally should have--"
"You weren't making me nervous," Brendon interrupts. "I was just kind of freaking myself out, because, like, it was the first time that we'd-- and I wasn't sure what you'd like and stuff, so, like--"
"What?" Spencer asks. "Brendon, I know that I freaked you out. You called me sir."
"Almost called you sir," Brendon corrects. "And that was just, that was just me. That's not anything about you."
"How could that possibly not be about me?" Spencer asks.
"I spent about a million years learning that I was supposed to be respectful," Brendon says. "I got all flustered and that was my automatic response, and I didn't mean-- that was just me."
"I thought that you thought that I was like them," Spencer says.
"No," Brendon says, looking straight at Spencer.
"Oh."
Brendon's voice is quiet when he says, "Is that why you don't like me anymore? Because I reminded you about what I used to -- do?"
Spencer shakes his head vigorously and says, "I do like you."
"That's what you said the other night," Brendon says, frowning. "But you wouldn't-- you didn't let me kiss you."
"I thought you were only doing that because you thought you had to."
"Why would I possibly think that I had to kiss you?"
"Because-- maybe somehow I had made it seem like-- you had to-- sex stuff," Spencer finally forces out.
"What the fuck would kissing have to do with sex stuff?" Brendon asks. "I've never kissed any of the people I've had sex with."
Brendon looks upset to be talking about this, more agitated than he's seemed for the rest of the conversation.
Spencer opens his mouth to speak, but Brendon cuts him off, saying, "You're dumb and also an asshole," which makes Spencer blink. It's true, but it's still surprising for Brendon to call him on it. The good kind of surprising.
"I told you," Brendon says, "that kissing wasn't-- that it was just for-- I told you and you knew, and you still--"
"I don't think I really got it," Spencer says. "Like that that was how you still thought, or, I mean. I wasn't trying to push some huge thing on you."
"That part was fine," Brendon says. "But then you just wouldn't any more, and what the fuck was I supposed to think?"
"That I'm an idiot," Spencer says. "Seriously, I did not mean for that to be anything other than letting you off the hook."
"What fucking hook would I be on?" Brendon asks. His cheeks are flushed, and he looks furious. He lifts his hand, banging it onto his thigh and grinding in the knuckles.
"Hey," Spencer says, reaching out to touch his fingers to Brendon's elbow. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean anything."
"I've been really--" Brendon starts. "And I thought that you--"
"Me too," Spencer says. "But you still came to see me."
"I was worried," Brendon says, giving Spencer a cranky face. "Just because you didn't-- I still--"
"I never didn't," Spencer says. "Seriously. I was just trying to back off because I thought that you weren't--"
"Well, I was," Brendon says.
"Okay," Spencer says, squeezing Brendon's elbow. "Okay, good."
Brendon's hand goes loose, and then slowly his fingers reach out to hook in Spencer's belt loops, moving carefully so that Spencer's hand isn't moved away.
"I was really glad you came," Spencer says, "the other night. I'm really glad you're here now. You want to go watch something? Chill out for a bit before I drive you home?"
Brendon nods, and they walk to the couch.
They sit with a couple feet of space between them. The remote control is within reach, but Spencer doesn't move.
After a long stretch of silence, Brendon asks, "Is it all right if --" and Spencer nods before even trying to figure out what Brendon means. Whatever it is, Spencer will agree to it.
Brendon moves over until he's sitting right beside Spencer again. He touches his fingers to the back of Spencer's hand. Spencer's digging his fingers into his thigh, but he makes himself relax, turning his hand over and letting Brendon touch his wrist, his palm, with hesitant fingers.
Brendon's hand eventually comes to rest on Spencer's forearm, and he leans to the side, tilting his head so that he can lean on Spencer's shoulder.
He's hardly touching Spencer, just two points of contact, but Spencer's pretty sure that that's because he's holding himself back, not because he doesn't really want to be touched.
Spencer's already fucked up so much, and he hopes like fuck that he's not just making it worse. He turns his torso, moving his arm out from under Brendon's hand, but quickly wrapping it around Brendon's shoulders so that it's clear he's not trying to move him away. He reaches with his other hand, resting his palm on the flat of Brendon's back, and after he pulls gently, Brendon crumbles in, his face smooshing against Spencer's shoulder and his arms sliding around Spencer's waist.
Spencer can feel Brendon's body moving, these little twitches. Spencer can feel how tense Brendon is, and he hugs him tighter, holds on until finally Brendon slumps forward, the tension melting out of his body.
Eventually Brendon sighs, and presses a kiss to the side of Spencer's neck. Spencer loosens his arms, but doesn't let go.
"No one ever touched me except during sex," Brendon says. "And then I was supposed to leave right afterwards." He runs his hand slowly up Spencer's back and says, "I really like this."
"Do you want to stay over tonight?" Spencer asks. "We can sleep together." Brendon has said a couple of times how weird it is to get used to being in an apartment by himself. He'd had his own room, but there were always other people around, and he isn't used to the quiet.
"Yeah," Brendon says. "Yeah, thanks."
Spencer stands, and he leaves his arm resting on Brendon's shoulders as they walk over to the bedroom.
Once they're there, Spencer passes Brendon a pair of his pyjamas, joking, "Just like old times, huh?"
Brendon laughs. "Yeah."
Spencer knows that nudity doesn't bother Brendon, so he doesn't bother leaving the room to get changed, just pulls off his clothes quickly and slides on the pjs. Brendon finishes at the same time as him, and Spencer walks over to the bed and pulls down the comforters.
"If you want, I could rub your back," Spencer offers.
"Sure," Brendon says immediately. "What should I do?"
"Just lie down," Spencer says. "If you take off your shirt, I can use cream."
While Brendon pulls off his shirt, Spencer walks into the bathroom and grabs a bottle of lotion. He walks back in the bedroom and finds Brendon lying down on his stomach, his arms folded under his head.
Spencer sits down on the bed beside him. He squirts cream into his palm then rubs his hands together to warm it up. Brendon moves his head to rest his cheek on his forearm, his head turned toward Spencer. He smiles at Spencer, this warm, soft look, and Spencer reaches over to smooth his hands down Brendon's back.
Brendon's got scars on his back, long lines that have grown faint with time. They've obviously healed, so Spencer touches them just like anywhere else, moving his hands in slow sweeps so that he can coat Brendon's back with lotion.
"Is it okay if I sit on you?" Spencer asks. "To get a better angle."
"Yeah," Brendon says. His voice sounds relaxed already.
Spencer moves himself carefully, straddling Brendon, but holding up most of his own weight. He bends over and starts working his thumbs in slow circles over Brendon's upper back.
"Can you tell me what feels good?" Spencer asks as he starts to work his way down Brendon's back.
"Everything," Brendon says. "Your hands."
Brendon's head is still turned to the side, and Spencer reaches up to brush his fingers over Brendon's cheek before returning to work on Brendon's back.
He rubs Brendon's back until Brendon goes liquid under his hands, sinking into the bed. Brendon breathes loud and steadily, and when Spencer finally moves onto the bed beside him, he rolls onto his side and blinks sleepily at Spencer.
"That felt really good," he says in a gravelly voice. "Like, really, really good."
Spencer smooths his hand over Brendon's hair and grins.
"Is there anything you'd like me to--?" Brendon asks.
"I'm ready to go to sleep now if you are," Spencer says.
Brendon hums, then wiggles up beside Spencer, squirming around until Spencer rolls onto his side and Brendon can curl up behind him, his arm wrapped around Spencer's waist and his nose tucked into the curve of Spencer's neck.
Spencer doesn't think he'll fall asleep right away, but Brendon's warm behind him, and he ends up dropping off quickly.
--
--
--
In the morning he makes pancake batter, and Brendon drizzles it onto the pan, trying to form shapes.
--
--
--
"So," Pete says. "What's up and stuff?" He leans back in his chair, his feet up on the desk and his hands crossed behind his head.
"You know," Spencer says. "The usual." He's not entirely sure as to the purpose of yearly employee evaluations -- career projectory planning sessions? Something like that? Spencer can't remember what they're technically called, but it involves meeting with Pete for twenty minutes and then filling out a bunch of forms. Nothing ever happens in the government without a million forms.
"Cool," Pete says.
"Yup."
"Any plans for the new year? Goals?"
Spencer shrugs.
"More of the same?" Pete asks.
"Maybe," Spencer says after a pause, "maybe not as many off-world missions."
Pete leans forward and starts poking at the touchscreen of the data pad. "Fewer... off-planet... missions," he narrates as he fills in some text field. He looks up and asks, "Any particular reason for the change?"
Spencer shrugs again. "Just feel like staying put, I guess."
--
--
--
"What time do you want me to pick you up?" Spencer asks. "Ryan said to be there before seven."
Brendon shrugs, and takes another bite of his apple. "I don't have anything planned in the ... hour there will be between getting home from work and leaving for Ryan's. Whatever's good for you."
"You want to just come back to my place straight away?" Spencer asks.
"Sure," Brendon says. He holds out his apple and asks, "Do you want the rest of this? It's sour."
Spencer likes sour apples just fine because they're usually firmer, so he takes it from Brendon. They're sitting close together, and Spencer can feel the heat of Brendon's shoulder just brushing up against his. Brendon's always a few degrees warmer than Spencer.
Brendon makes a little puckery face, swallows the rest of his bite of apple and then licks his lips. Spencer looks down at his tray. He feels that low tug in his belly, just like whenever he's with Brendon.
"Come find me when you're ready to leave," Brendon says. He bumps his foot against Spencer's, underneath the table, then pushes his tray away. "See you in a few hours," he says, standing up.
--
Ryan and Jon are drinking beer as they putter around the kitchen, and when Ryan passes one to Spencer, he accepts without thinking. It's not until he's halfway through it and Brendon comes upstairs after going to greet the pets in the basement that he thinks anything of it.
"Can I open one for you?" Jon offers when Brendon walks into the kitchen.
"I'm all right," Brendon says, shaking his head.
Spencer's fingers tighten around the neck of his bottle, and he sets it onto the counter, crossing the kitchen to stand beside Brendon.
"How come you don't drink?" Spencer asks, keeping his voice low. There's music playing, and Ryan and Jon are chattering to each other, so it isn't likely that they'll overhear.
Brendon shrugs. "I haven't ever had alcohol before."
"Did other people drink?" Spencer asks. "On your planet?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. "Not a lot, but sometimes the master would." Brendon crosses his arms across his chest, looks straight ahead. "And his guests."
"And that was... not good?" Spencer asks.
Brendon nods, but doesn't say anything else.
"And you weren't allowed to drink? Do you want to try?" he asks. "You could finish the rest of my beer. I won't have anything else, but you could if you wanted."
Brendon looks sideways at Spencer. "Maybe sometime," he says. "I think-- maybe sometime. Not here, okay?"
"Yeah, for sure," Spencer says.
Brendon relaxes, leaning back against the counter instead of holding himself straight up. He angles his body toward Spencer. He says, "Maybe some time when it's just us."
"Okay," Spencer says.
Before he can say anything else, Ryan says loudly, "Spencer, I think it's time to flip the chicken pieces over."
"Yeah, yeah," Spencer says. "I'm coming. Ryan, what the hell are you trying to do with that spoon? Put that down."
--
"How's the fish doing?" Spencer asks, parking the transport in front of Brendon's apartment building.
"Good," Brendon says. "Really good. You want to come up and see him?"
"Sure," Spencer says. "Where should I park?"
"I think I've got the spot numbered 897," Brendon says. "See if you can find that."
--
Spencer walks up with Brendon, but doesn't bother taking off his shoes when they walk into the entrance, figuring that he'll be leaving quickly.
"You want to feed the fish?" Brendon asks. "See if he remembers you?"
"I value each and every one of my fingers," Spencer says. "So, no."
Brendon laughs. He takes off his jacket and hangs it in the closet before turning back to Spencer, who's standing by the door.
"You want to come in for a bit?" he asks.
Spencer bends over, and unlaces his shoes.
--
Brendon's sitting sideways on the couch, one leg bent up, nearly touching his chest, the other dangling off the edge of the couch. He tips his head to press his cheek against the couch.
Spencer's staring, and he knows he's staring. Brendon looks tired -- Spencer feels tired; it's well past two -- and it's time for Spencer to leave, but instead he's sitting on the couch, staring at Brendon.
They spent a few hours talking, and now they're not not-talking, they just aren't saying anything. Spencer should leave now.
Brendon lifts his hand, rubs the back of his neck while he yawns.
Spencer rolls his shoulders to make his back crack, and says, "'kay, I'm off." He rolls his shoulders again, blinking quickly to try and wake himself up. Maybe he can stand outside for a bit and the fresh air will help to wake him up.
"You should sleep here tonight," Brendon says. "It's late to drive home, and. I liked sleeping with you."
Spencer's brain is foggy, and he doesn't think he's following the conversation very well. He says, "Okay," and lets Brendon take his hand and lead him to the bedroom.
"I like sleeping naked," Brendon says, standing at the foot of the bed. "You'll have to bring over a pair of your own pyjamas next time. I don't know how you like wearing so much to bed."
Spencer shrugs.
"You can wear your clothes tonight if you want," Brendon warns, "But I'm going to sleep naked."
He starts stripping, walking over to hang his jeans in the closet. Spencer hesitates for a moment before taking off his as well.
He feels like a dork, trying to shake his jeans off. He has to bend over -- stupid long legs -- and it takes him twice as long to get naked as it takes Brendon, and then he's naked and standing in Brendon's bedroom.
Brendon's naked, too, and stupidly hot just like he always is. He walks to the bed and pulls back the comforter, climbing up and shuffling over to make room for Spencer. Brendon reaches up to hit the light switch, and then they're lying in the dark.
Brendon's bed smells like Brendon, and also Brendon smells like Brendon. Spencer would have thought that he'd fall immediately to sleep, but as he lies on his back and tries to breathe slowly, he doesn't feel tired at all.
Brendon shifts, rolling over, and Spencer holds still. He's surprised when Brendon's shuffling ends with him stretched out close beside Spencer, his knees bumping up against the outside of Spencer's leg.
Spencer turns his neck and sees Brendon looking at him, squinting in the dark. Brendon smiles quickly, then scoots even closer.
Spencer doesn't expect the touch, and he jerks a little when Brendon's fingers brush over his stomach, the muscles tightening. Brendon keeps his touch gentle, doesn't pull away. He flattens his palm tentatively over Spencer's belly, and Spencer reaches over, wraps his fingers around Brendon's wrist to hold him in place. Brendon's hand is hot, and when Spencer takes a deep breath, he can feel their skin sticking together.
"Thanks for humouring me," Brendon whispers.
"I'm not humouring you," Spencer says, his fingers tightening around Brendon's wrist.
Brendon opens his mouth, but seems to change his mind and ends up saying, "My sheets are really soft. You would not be able to appreciate that if you were wearing clothes."
Spencer flexes his calves, stretching his legs out. Brendon's sheets are soft, and now that they've been lying in bed for a while, they're starting to feel warm. Brendon's thumb strokes slow circles, pressing just hard enough that it doesn't tickle. Spencer slides his hand up Brendon's arm and cups his palm around Brendon's shoulder.
"Yeah," Spencer says. "You have a good bed situation. I like your pillow."
"Thank you," Brendon says. "I picked everything out." He laughs softly, then runs his hand up to the bottom of Spencer's ribcage, back down again. "I like your belly."
"Thank you," Spencer says.
Brendon pushes up with one arm, holding himself up with his elbow. He leans in until his face is a few inches away from Spencer's.
Spencer holds his breath as Brendon hovers above him for a long moment, before finally ducking down and pressing their lips together. He kisses Spencer closed mouthed and a little clumsy, and when he lifts his head again, Spencer opens his eyes and says, "Thank you for humouring me."
"I'm not humouring you," Brendon says, bending down again.
They kiss and kiss and kiss until Spencer's tongue is dry and his lips feel like they're buzzing. Brendon's skin is soft and firm and Spencer uses his fingertips to map out of the stretch of his back, the curve of his hips. He touches Brendon's shoulders, feeling the lines where the muscles flex as Brendon holds himself up.
Brendon shifts, stretches out with his thigh in between Spencer's, his cock pressed against Spencer's hip, just pressed at first but Spencer arches up and soon Brendon's grinding down, sliding further on top of Spencer so that they can rub together.
Spencer runs his hand down Brendon's side, touches his hipbone. Brendon's cock fits just right in his hand. Spencer moves his hand up the shaft and the skin feels soft, smooth, until he gets to the crown. He rubs his thumb over the head and his finger slips wetly.
"Is this okay?" he asks, rubbing his thumb up and down the slit.
"So far so good," Brendon says, laughing breathlessly. His voice sounds tight, but in a good way, tight like how Spencer can feel that the muscles in Brendon's stomach are clenched, like how Brendon's started rocking down, speeding Spencer's hand along.
Spencer cups his hand over the head of Brendon's dick, smears the precome around, but the friction gets rough pretty quick. He pulls his hand away quickly to lick it wet, and when he grabs Brendon's dick again, Brendon arches and groans. Spencer can squeeze more tightly now, and he jerks Brendon quickly, twisting his thumb on each up stroke. He reaches with his other hand and cups Brendon's balls, just holding because he can't manage much more in this position.
Spencer looks down between their bodies, but he can't see much. Brendon's head is tipped forward. Spencer wishes that Brendon would turn his head so that he could kiss him again.
Brendon makes a little mewing sound, his hips jerking sharply. He comes and it feels wet on Spencer's stomach, sticky. He keeps moving his hand until Brendon shudders and starts shying away, and then he lets go.
Brendon tips sideways, sprawling on the bed. He kicks out his legs and lifts the closest one, draping it over Spencer's thigh. He rolls in, butts his head against Spencer's shoulder, laughs, this breathless giddy sound, and Spencer feels stupid with affection for him.
Brendon moves around, his limbs curling and straightening like he's swimming. He makes a happy humming sound, and Spencer laughs as well, reaches over to scratch his fingers through Brendon's hair.
Brendon lifts himself up, looks straight at Spencer while he says, "I'm glad you're sleeping over tonight."
Spencer starts to say, "Me, too," but Brendon's ducked down and he takes Spencer's dick in his mouth, and Spencer loses his train of thought.
--
"The sun's going to rise soon," Spencer says. He's curled around Brendon's back, his head resting close beside Brendon's on the pillow.
"Lucky it's the weekend," Brendon says.
Spencer slides his hand down Brendon's chest, his belly, stopping when the heel of his hand bumps against Brendon's cock, hard again.
"I'm going to blow you now, okay?" Spencer says, reaching for Brendon's shoulder to pull him onto his back.
"Okay," Brendon murmurs, his dick giving a little twitch as Spencer starts to lean in.
--
--
--
Spencer wakes in the early afternoon, rolling from one side to the other in search of Brendon, but apparently Brendon's already out of bed.
Spencer gets up, walks out of the bedroom and is relieved to find Brendon sitting on the couch, a bowl on the coffee table in front of him.
"I was hungry," Brendon says. "You want some cereal?"
"Not yet," Spencer says. "Thanks."
He sits on the couch beside Brendon and then remembers that he's still naked. He reaches behind himself for the blanket that's draped over the back of the couch, and spreads it out over his lap, offering Brendon a corner.
"You okay?" Spencer asks.
"Yeah," Brendon says, his voice rising at the end, like he's not sure what Spencer's asking.
"Because... last night, and then you weren't there when I woke up," Spencer says.
Brendon gives him a long look and then makes a face. "You always get so worried about such stupid things," Brendon says. "I'm not going to be traumatized by sex."
Spencer shrugs his shoulder, his palm facing out. "I just-- I just don't want you to feel like, I don't know, to feel like... before."
Brendon rolls his eyes. "It's not like fucking and sucking was the hard part," he says. "It was shitty when the master gave me to his friends, and they thought I should be able to take two at the same time. Or when the master got drunk and he'd get hard but he couldn't get off, no matter what I did, and then he got mad. Or when he wanted to fuck me the day after he'd been mad. It's not the same with you, and if you don't understand that then maybe you shouldn't be having sex."
Brendon looks so cranky, and Spencer tries to keep his mouth closed so that the hysterical giggles won't escape, but he makes a stupid snorting noise, and Brendon gives him suspicious eyes.
"I'm sorry," Spencer says quickly. "I'm sorry, you know how I get."
"Oh my god, what?" Brendon asks. "No one's brain is getting fried."
"I know," Spencer says. "I'm just really relieved."
Brendon makes a little snarly face at him, then leans sideways, throwing his arm around Spencer's shoulder and pecking him on the head, a hard press of his lips.
"I know way more about sex than you do," Brendon says after Spencer has slouched down enough to rest his head on Brendon's shoulder. "You should really be following my lead here."
"You give better head than I do," Spencer agrees.
Brendon's silent for a long moment before he finally concedes, "You give pretty good head, too."
Spencer turns his head, presses his smile into Brendon's collarbone.