Call It Home | Spencer/Brendon | ~ 35000 words | NC-17 | AU | Part 2/4
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
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Except that, three hours before they're due to land within walking distance of the hospital, they do.
Brendon's been writhing on the bed, sweating and making this horrible whimpering sound every time he inhales. Spencer doesn't know if they're going to be able to land after all; there's no way Brendon can walk into the medical facility like this, no way they're going to be able to see a doctor without raising a million questions. He wonders if it would be best to go anyway: they'd be able to take care of Brendon better than he can, and the pain seems to be getting worse and worse.
It's probably time for Spencer to change the cloth on Brendon's forehead again. Not that it's actually helping, but dampening it with cool water at least gives Spencer something to do.
He stands -- he pulled up a chair beside the bed -- but before he's started reaching for the cloth, Brendon is sitting straight up, the cloth falling down and landing on one of his legs.
"What?" Spencer asks.
"It stopped," Brendon says, looking around the room with wide eyes.
"What? What stopped?" Spencer asks.
"It doesn't hurt anymore," Brendon says. He finally looks straight at Spencer. He looks surprised, confused, and then his face breaks into a huge grin. "It's stopped hurting."
"Seriously?" Spencer asks.
"Yeah," Brendon says.
Spencer rubs his hands up and down his thighs, drying off his sweaty palms. His fingers are shaking a little.
"Seriously?" he asks again.
"Seriously," Brendon says. He says, "Fuck, I really hope it doesn't start again," then makes a face so horrified that, once Spencer realizes he's upset about swearing and not that the pain has started again, Spencer starts to laugh.
"So do I," he says.
--
They wait apprehensively while Gabe lands the ship, but Brendon says he's fine, it's okay, he doesn't hurt anymore.
As they walk off the ship, Brendon asks, "Why do you think it stopped?"
"Maybe we got far enough away," Spencer guesses. "Maybe... you said it was connected to-- maybe it's not anymore. Maybe the rebels killed him."
He looks sideways at Brendon, trying to gauge his response, but Brendon's face is blank when he hums, "Hmm."
--
The doctor needs to re-break Brendon's finger before she can set it in the right position.
Spencer leaves the room.
--
Checking Brendon in was easy, but Spencer has to show his government ID and every piece of documentation for the trip that he has on him - thank goodness he brought his official data pad with him to the hospital - before they'll let him and Brendon leave.
Brendon comes out of the treatment room looking pale, with his finger wrapped in some sort of contraption that engulfs his entire hand. It's certainly more impressive than the splint that Spencer fashioned.
"You okay?" he asks as they walk out of the hospital.
"Yeah," Brendon says. "Thanks. I didn't realize how badly my finger hurt until everything else stopped hurting."
"Well, hopefully it will all feel better now."
"The doctor said she thinks it will heal okay," Brendon says. "I didn't really think it would, and," he takes a quick breath before quickly finishing, "I like to play music so I'm glad it's going to be okay."
"I'm glad, too," Spencer says. "What instruments do you play?"
"A couple of things," Brendon says. "The master liked me to play when he had company. I liked it, too. I'd get a couple of hours a day to myself in the music room."
"That sounds good," Spencer says. "I played in a band with Ryan when we were teenagers. That did not sound nice."
Brendon laughs.
"So, I've got to refuel the ship," Spencer says. "Do you want to walk around for a bit? Or come back with me? It'll probably take me about an hour, so it'd be a chance for you to stretch your legs at least."
"Can I, I mean, is it all right if I stay with you?" Brendon asks.
"Yeah, of course," Spencer says. "The doctor gave you some new painkillers, right? You're probably ready to sit down after all of that. How's your hand feeling?"
"Big," Brendon says. "And now that it's wrapped up all I can think about is scratching the tip of my finger."
"Don't jostle it!" Spencer says. "It's all safe in its cast now, just... leave it be."
Brendon says solemnly, "Okay," but the corner of his mouth twitches upwards.
--
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--
"Are we going back to your planet now?" Brendon asks. The ship is refuelled, and Gabe tells him that it looks like smooth flying for the next forty hours, at least. Although, as he reminds Spencer, he's not psychic, and sometimes there is no way to know for sure.
"After we stop and see Mikey," Spencer says.
"Why?" Brendon asks. "It stopped hurting. We can just go back now."
"It's still in your head though; wouldn't you rather get it out?"
"It doesn't matter if it's not hurting," Brendon says. "It's been there since I was fourteen; it's not like I'll know the difference."
"I don't know," Spencer says. "What if there are side effects down the line? Or, I don't know. Something! It's in your brain."
"You already stopped once for me," Brendon says, holding up his hand. "And, thank you, I'm very grateful. We don't need to stop anywhere else. I've already slowed you down enough."
"You're not slowing me down," Spencer assures him. "It's pretty much on the way, anyway. This is the direction we'd be heading, regardless. We just have to make a few adjustments in a few days. We can wait and see then," he suggests.
"All right," Brendon says, very agreeably, even though Spencer's pretty sure that his mind is already made up.
--
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--
Now that Brendon isn't in extreme agony, Spencer finds he quite likes having someone else on the ship. The space is small to begin with, and it's a little difficult to organize sharing the bed, but overall it's nice to have company. He's started to teach Brendon how to do some of the basic ship maintenance, but there isn't all that much to do -- normally he'd spend the return flight writing up reports from the mission, but this time there isn't a lot for him to say.
They sit at the little table after eating. There's one piece of -- whatever the pink stuff is, left on the table. Spencer can tell that Brendon's eyeing it, but he also knows that Brendon would never take the last helping for himself. Spencer's sitting and waiting to see what happens. So far, they've been chatting for ten minutes and Brendon doesn't seem any closer to taking it.
"There's this... it's like the planet started to crack in half, and then filled up with water," Brendon is telling him. "And then all these jagged little slices coming away from the main split."
"Oh," Spencer says. He stands and dashes over to where he'd left the data pad containing the report about Brendon's planet. He settles beside Brendon again. "This?" he asks, scrolling through the data until he finds what he guesses to be an aerial shot.
"Yeah," Brendon says. He traces his finger down the main split, holding it just above the screen without actually touching. "That's where we get all of our water. See, and then we live on the land between the cracks."
"What about the rest of the planet?" Spencer asks.
"It goes all the way down," Brendon says, sliding his finger off of the data pad in demonstration. "All the way around the planet. People don't live on the poles, though. You can't live without water."
"Right," Spencer says.
"This is where I lived," Brendon says, pointing his finger in a general area. "Somewhere around here."
Spencer doesn't know how Brendon can tell. Without any landmarks, the map just looks abstract to him.
"The master's house was really close to the water."
Spencer still feels his chest tighten warily when Brendon uses the word master. It doesn't seem to bother Brendon though.
"I used to go and sit on the banks a lot," Brendon says. "The water was really shallow and there were fish that lived there, because shallow water is warmer, I think. If you hold your hand above the water, they'll jump for your fingers."
"Note to self," Spencer says. "Keep hands away from water."
Brendon laughs. "Nah, they were only like," he holds his fingers an inch apart, "this big. It doesn't hurt at all, it's just kind of tickley."
Spencer gives him a skeptical look. "I like mammals better than fish," he says.
"Me, too," Brendon says. "The master had pets, but I wasn't allowed to touch them."
"Why not?" Spencer asks.
Brendon shrugs. "I took a bowl down to the water and caught a fish that I kept in my room for seven years, so it was like I had a pet anyway."
"That's a long time," Spencer says. Then, "Oh my goodness, just take it already."
Brendon looks at him guiltily, shaking his head.
"Seriously," Spencer says. "I'm done. Even if I weren't, you're equally entitled to food, I swear."
He's tempted to just put the pink stuff onto Brendon's plate, but he doesn't, and in the end Brendon helps himself. Brendon's still careful sometimes, but he never calls Spencer sir anymore, which is a huge relief. Spencer still feels weird when people call him Mr. Smith for work-related things. But now that Brendon's stopped doing that, he's most just this awesome dude that Spencer gets to kill time with. It gets boring to travel around by himself all the time.
"See, if you'd taken it earlier it wouldn't be cold," Spencer says.
Brendon gives Spencer a wary look, but he eats what's left, and when they work together to clear dishes off the table, Brendon smiles at him.
--
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--
Brendon smiles at him a lot, actually: when Spencer makes a stupid joke, when Spencer offers to show him something new, when Spencer asks him what he'd like for dinner. Sometimes it seems real (usually when Spencer makes dumb jokes, surprisingly), but sometimes it seems like... something else.
"Your eye looks better," Spencer says as they're eating breakfast. It's been well over a week now, and the blackening under his skin has started to fade yellow.
"It doesn't hurt anymore," Brendon says, poking at his face in demonstration.
"Careful," Spencer teases. "Don't want to re-injure it."
Brendon touches his cheek again, but more carefully this time, his fingertips tracing over his cheekbone. He seems distracted by the texture of his own skin.
He glances over at Spencer guiltily and pulls his hand away.
--
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--
"Yeah, sounds good," Spencer says. "I'll be in contact again shortly." He ends the transmission and turns around to find Brendon the entrance.
"Sorry," Brendon says. "I wasn't listening in."
"No, it's fine," Spencer says. "Come here, I've got something for you."
Brendon comes and crouches beside Spencer's chair while Spencer pulls up something onto the screen.
"Pete says that they're sending negotiators to your planet," Spencer says. "I think they left a couple of days ago."
"That's awesome," Brendon says. "Do you think they'll be able to do anything?"
"I don't know," Spencer says, "but they're taking really big ships, and they've got it set up so that anyone who lived on your planet can get refugee status. You know, if there were more... if there were others like you."
Brendon nods, slowly.
"So, I don't know how many people are actually going to want to come with them, or if it'll be too late, or if they'll have the same problem you had--?"
"The master was wealthy," Brendon says. "Most people couldn't afford that kind of technology. Plus, I was fourteen when I went to live with him, so it was still early enough to be... safe. I don't know, a lot of people don't survive the procedure, so I don't think they do it all that often."
"Well, umm, hopefully it'll be okay," Spencer says. "At least we know what to expect or whatever. So, yeah, I don't know how many people are going to actually want to come, but I thought, well, I mentioned it to Pete, and he thought that it would be really helpful. But, again, it's totally up to you. We thought that maybe you might want to help."
"Help?" Brendon asks.
"Yeah, like, I thought, well, Pete's the one who suggested it, that you could work for the department, Pete sent over the stuff for you to sign. You'd be a liaison." Spencer glances over at Brendon. "It's just a six week contract right now, but I guess they'd see how it went and what you wanted to do and stuff."
"I don't know how to help anyone," Brendon says.
"They'll train you on anything you don't know," says Spencer. "It's probably going to be super boring, just helping people fill out paperwork, mostly. It's just maybe it would be cool if it were you helping instead of one of us, you know? Someone that they could trust."
"A liaison?"
"If you just want to fuck off and not deal with this stuff anymore, you can," Spencer says. "But, I mean. It's something to do, right? While you figure it out? They'll help you get set up with an apartment and stuff."
"No, I mean, yes, yeah," Brendon says. "Boring is good. I'd be down for boring right now."
Spencer grins. "Awesome! See, Pete sent all this stuff over. You can fill it out as best you can. Don't worry if you don't know what to say: Pete's not too fussy about the technicalities. Just, you know, your name and birthday and stuff, and then sign it, and then you'll have a job for when we get back."
Brendon's still kneeling beside Spencer's chair. Spencer stands so that he can move out of the seat and make room for Brendon. Brendon doesn't rise immediately off of the floor though, and there's an awkward moment when Spencer's stuck standing with the chair behind him and Brendon in front of him, not sure how he's going to get by.
Brendon stares up at him, but blinks, shaking his head a little. His face changes into something else, like he's telling himself something, and he pushes to his feet as well, stepping sideways so that there's room for Spencer to pass.
"Just gimme a call if you get stuck on something," Spencer says.
"Okay," Brendon says, settling into the chair.
--
"It asks for names and numbers for references," Brendon says, twisting in the chair to look up at Spencer.
"Just put me down," Spencer says. "I don't think anyone but Pete is going to look at this, but if someone does they can just call me."
Brendon opens his mouth, but cuts himself off before actually saying anything.
"And I'll tell them how you flew the ship back with me, and that you're really good at fixing shit with your hands, and that you can get the CO tank switched without having to turn the gas off first because you can actually hook the fucking valve in on the first try all the time, and I've been doing this for three years and I still can't manage."
Brendon nods slowly.
"Pete hired Ryan before he'd even finished getting his degree, with zero work experience, just because Ryan called the office every single day for three months. He's doing a job that he's totally not qualified for, but he's doing awesome and Pete was totally right to hire him. And then Ryan got me this job, which I don't know that I'm really qualified for either, given how badly things have gone. I obviously don't have any idea what I'm doing, and if you don't know what you're doing, then you can just fake your way through or ask someone for help. That's what I do."
"I don't want to screw something up," Brendon says.
"You won't, seriously. If anything, you're going to be bored out of your mind, because it'll be the same drill with every person, getting them to answer the same questions and fill out the same forms, and pretty soon you'll be doing it in your sleep."
Brendon takes a slow breath and says, "Yeah, okay."
"Okay," Spencer echoes. "Okay?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. "Thanks."
"Seriously, it'll be good to have you around," Spencer says. "You know way more about what's going on than the rest of us do."
Brendon grins.
Spencer stands, waiting for him to turn back around and continue filling the form out, but Brendon seems distracted. It looks like he's staring at Spencer, but he's probably just zoned out or something.
Spencer says awkwardly, "Okay," again, and that gets Brendon to snap out of it.
--
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--
"Beep beep," Gabe says. "Attention, we are overheating."
Spencer stands up in a panic. "Overheating?" he asks as he runs back to the engine room.
"Yuppers," Gabe says. "Trouble!"
"Why are we overheating? What's overheating? What should I do?" Spencer asks.
"I think a pipe burst," Gabe says. "I'm not too sure because when things break, it's hard to monitor them. Open up the lower A4 control panel."
"What am I looking for?" Spencer asks.
"Something broken," Gabe says.
"Umm," Spencer says. There are a lot of wires. "I am not a mechanic," Spencer says.
"We're all going to die!" Gabe yells.
"Stop scaring me like that," Spencer snaps. "You can't die, anyway. You're a computer program."
"Oh, now you're just being mean," Gabe says.
"Cry me a-- Oh, wait, I think this is unplugged," Spencer says. He grabs a green wire that's flapping around. "Where do I put it?"
"Is it common for you not to know where to insert something?" Gabe asks.
"I'm going to unplug you," Spencer says.
"You can't unplug me! I'm flying the ship," Gabe says. "Ha."
"Where does this go?" Spencer wonders aloud, looking around the panel.
"First," Gabe says, "you find an open hole..."
"Oh, quiet," Spencer says. "There it is." Hopefully, anyway. The end of the wire fits when he slides it in place.
"Beep, beep, .... beep," Gabe says. "... ... Beep."
"What does that even mean?" Spencer asks.
"Disaster averted," Gabe says. "Congratulations. Excellent teamwork!"
"That was not teamwork," Spencer protests.
"Did I or did I not alert you to the problem?" Gabe asks.
Spencer says, "Hm."
"Then stop yer whining."
"You are so lippy," Spencer says. "And you don't even have lips!"
"More the shame for you, darling," Gabe says.
Spencer rolls his eyes and pushes up from where he's been kneeling on the floor. He turns around to find Brendon standing in the doorway, staring at him.
"We're good to go," Spencer says, giving Brendon a thumbs up.
Brendon licks his lips. It takes him a minute to say, "Yeah, great." He stares at Spencer for a stretch beyond that, even, before finally jerking his gaze away. His cheeks go red, and he turns around, hurrying away.
"I'm on a ship full of crazies," Spencer mutters.
--
--
--
Brendon keeps smiling and he keeps staring, and Spencer tells Gabe to take them to the coordinates that Pete passed on without checking with Brendon first. Whether or not Brendon will admit it, there's something wrong with him.
Like now, for example. Spencer's writing up something on the data pad, and Brendon's sitting across from him with one of the readers on his lap. Spencer's not sure what's been uploaded to that one, but certainly there must be something that catches Brendon's fancy.
Instead, his attention seems focused on something else. His eyes keep darting around the room. He squirms around, moving on the chair, twitching his legs and his hands. The seat keeps squeaking slightly each time he shifts his weight, and the noise distracts Spencer away from what he's writing.
He glances over at Brendon and sees Brendon look away guiltily. Brendon stares at a spot a few feet away from where Spencer is sitting and bites his lip.
"Okay, seriously," Spencer says. "What is wrong?"
Brendon's eyes meet his briefly before Brendon looks away again.
He mumbles, "Nothing," but before Spencer can ask anything else he stands up and flees the room, pausing only to say, "Pardon me," before leaving.
Spencer shakes his head, and turns his attention back to his data pad.
--
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--
The downside about there only being one bed is that neither of them gets to sleep for more than four or five hours in a row. Spencer feels tired most of the time, a little on edge.
They've been flying for a few days straight now, and hopefully it's only going to take them another couple days to find Mikey. Pete gave them coordinates, but Spencer doesn't know how difficult it will be to find Mikey after they land.
He pokes his spoon at what's left of his porridge. He's been up for an hour, which means that Brendon has been up for six.
"You want to take the bed for a while?" Spencer asks.
Brendon hasn't eaten much. He's breathing shallowly and squirming in his seat.
"Thanks," Brendon says, pushing away from the table.
"Are you all right?" Spencer asks. "You look fevered."
He stands as well, reaching for Brendon. He wants to see if Brendon feels hot, but when his fingers make contact with Brendon's cheek, Brendon shudders so hard that Spencer recoils instinctively.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"Nothing," Brendon says in a tight, high voice. "I'm going to sleep now, if that's okay."
Spencer frowns as he watches Brendon flee. He wonders if he should chase after him, but he doesn't want to upset Brendon further, so instead he sits back at the table and forces down the rest of his breakfast.
--
Spencer's poking around in the engine room a few hours later, when Brendon comes out again.
He takes one look at Brendon and says, "Couldn't sleep?"
Brendon's hair is dirty and he's got dark bags under his eyes. Except for the flushed spots on his cheeks, he's pale.
He's wearing one of Spencer's t-shirts and he keeps tugging the hem down. It probably does the opposite of what he intended, drawing Spencer's attention downward. He glances at Brendon's fingers twisting into the hem of the shirt and notices the bulge in Brendon's pants just lower than that.
Given how convinced Spencer is that Brendon is sick, he's surprised to see that Brendon's hard. He knows how it goes though: sometimes a dick just has a mind of its own. It isn't like being hard actually means anything.
Spencer looks back at Brendon's face. Brendon's mouth is open and the full curve of his lower lip is red and noticeable.
"No, I couldn't sleep," Brendon finally says in a shaky voice.
"That happens sometimes," Spencer says, shrugging. "It's hard to get used to not having natural hours of sunlight and darkness. "You said this was your first time on a ship, right?"
"Yeah, that's ri-ight." Brendon's voice cracks over the last word.
"You'll get used to it," Spencer says. "It definitely took me a couple of months, and that was with regular sleeping hours. We've probably both totally fucked up our sleeping schedules."
Brendon inhales sharply, then nods.
"Are you ill?" Spencer asks, stepping toward Brendon.
Brendon shakes his head quickly.
"Just the-- ship," Brendon says.
"It's very cramped," Spencer agrees. "It'll be nice to walk around on land again." He stretches, arching his back until it cracks loudly. "I'm just trying to calibrate the flux reactor, you want to watch?"
Brendon starts to come toward him, but seems to think better of it at the last minute and ends up backing away.
"Next time," Brendon says. "I'm going to --" He trails off, and runs out of the room without any further explanation.
Spencer makes a mental note to have Gabe look up cabin fever for him.
--
He finishes in the engine room and walks over to the sleeping area, thinking that he might try to nap for a couple of hours.
Brendon's already there, though, standing in the center of the room, both of his hands fisted in his hair.
When he sees Spencer, his face crumbles.
"What?" Spencer says. "Brendon, what's wrong?"
Brendon doesn't answer so Spencer walks over and touches Brendon's shoulder. Brendon reacts to that, spinning around and grabbing Spencer's shirt with both hands.
"Please," he says, then drops to his knees.
"Please, what?" Spencer asks. "Tell me what's wrong. Tell me what I should do?"
Brendon reaches for Spencer's pants this time, and whoa, shit, they've been here before. Brendon starts working on Spencer's belt, but before he gets it undone Spencer grabs his wrists and stills his hands. He tries to be careful not to knock the cast on Brendon's pinkie finger in the process.
"Hey, hey, we've talked about this," Spencer says.
"I'll do anything," Brendon says. "Tell me what you'd rather and I'll do it."
"I don't--" Spencer starts.
"Is it because you prefer girls?" Brendon asks. "I can bend over. You don't have to touch me. You won't even, you won't be able to tell, please. I'll wear something, whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want, please, I'll make it worth your while."
Spencer's hands loosen and Brendon immediately starts trying to undo Spencer's pants again. He's breathing hard, sweat sliding down his temple and making his bangs stick to his forehead. His hands shake as he fumbles with the button on Spencer's pants.
"Are you okay?" Spencer asks.
Brendon shakes his head vigorously, no, but doesn't stop trying to get Spencer's dick out. Spencer is scared and flaccid.
"Do you want me on my knees?" Brendon asks. "Like this, do you want me like this? However you want, just tell me."
"Brendon," Spencer says, as clearly as he can. "Have you ever felt like this before?"
Brendon shakes his head. "It's never gotten this bad, please, please."
"What do you mean?" Spencer asks.
"The longest the master was ever away from home was a week," Brendon says. "It wasn't-- it's always been bearable."
"Why did it get bad when he was gone?" Spencer asks.
"No one to fuck me," Brendon says.
"You can't just-- why can't you just take care of yourself?" Spencer asks.
"Can't," Brendon says, shaking his head. "No, can't."
"You weren't allowed to?" Spencer guesses. "You're not there anymore. You can."
"No," Brendon says, his hips shifting restlessly, arching forward and making the hard line of his cock that much more obvious. "Doesn't... work. Nothing happens."
"You can't get yourself off?" Spencer asks. "What? Why?"
"Had to be him," Brendon says.
"That's just-- that must have been something they told you," Spencer says. "It's not true."
"I tried," Brendon says. "I've been trying, it doesn't work, please, please, I need you, please, whatever you want."
"Jesus," Spencer says. Brendon stares at him with glassy eyes, breathing shallowly. "You look drugged," he says.
Brendon shakes his head, helplessly. "I didn't," he says. "I haven't taken anything, I promise, I promise, please, I'm sorry, please."
"No, I know, I know, it's okay." Spencer exhales slowly, trying to clear his head. "Maybe it's-- do you think it might be the thing they put in your head?" he guesses.
"I don't know," Brendon says. His hands slide up Spencer's thighs as he rubs his cheek against Spencer's crotch. "You can fuck my mouth," Brendon says. "I won't use my hands. You can close your eyes, and it'll just be a mouth, please, just let me-- anything, please. You can close your eyes and pretend it's not me."
"How will that help?" Spencer asks. He gestures vaguely at Brendon, sweeping his hand. "You're all-- you're the one that needs to--"
"No, no," Brendon says. "Whatever you want. You don't have to touch me, you don't have to, I'll do everything, please just let me, I want your cock, I want to suck you I want you to fuck me, however you want, anything, anything, please."
Brendon's pupils are dilated and he's flushed all the way down his neck. He stares at Spencer with unfocused eyes and moves with a clumsy desperation, like he's been drugged.
"Why is it so bad all of a sudden?" Spencer asks. He starts to say, "You seemed fine before," before he catches himself. Brendon didn't seem fine before, he seemed like he was in a huge fucking amount of pain. There probably wasn't enough space left for him to feel anything else.
Brendon squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep, shuddery breath. He looks like he's in pain now, and Spencer drops to his knees so that he's on the floor with Brendon.
"It's okay," he says. "We'll figure something out."
"Please?" Brendon says in a small voice, which is almost harder to listen to than when he was begging outright before. "I promise I'll make it good."
"Hey, I know," Spencer says. "It's not that."
Brendon stares at him. He looks wrecked.
"You said that you can't, that you can't get yourself off?" Spencer asks.
Brendon shakes his head.
"Why not?" Spencer asks.
"Doesn't work. Nothing happens."
"Has it always been like that?"
"Yeah," Brendon says.
"How do you-- how does it usually happen, then?"
"If the master says," Brendon explains. "Or maybe sometimes when he's fucking me."
"Okay, well, I'm saying," Spencer says, blushing furiously. "So you can just--" He starts to stand up, but Brendon grabs for him.
"You have to stay," Brendon says. "Please, you have to stay."
"Okay," Spencer says, settling back down. He sits cross-legged on the floor and once Brendon has convinced himself that Spencer isn't going to move away he lets go.
Brendon opens his pants. His dick is flushed purple and leaking already. He spits into his hand and starts to jerk himself off.
Spencer's face burns, and he thinks he can feel his heart pounding.
Brendon uses his other hand to push up his t-shirt, his palm resting on his bare belly. Aside from the wrapped up finger, he looks like something from porn. Looks like someone putting on a show, more than what Spencer imagines he'd look like if he were jerking himself off.
Brendon keeps saying, "Please, please," but Spencer isn't doing anything; he doesn't know what Brendon wants.
Brendon says, "Please," and Spencer says helplessly, "Okay."
Brendon whimpers, shakes his head. He says again, "Please."
Spencer bites his lip in frustration, thinking desperately. He tries, "I want you to--" and probably feels just about as relieved as Brendon is when Brendon finally throws his head back and comes all over himself.
"Do you feel better?" Spencer asks.
"A little," Brendon says, as he licks the come off of his hand.
--
Brendon's hard again within the hour, hovering close to Spencer, just barely managing to keep his hands to himself.
"What usually makes you feel better?" Spencer asks.
"The master fucks me, or I suck him off, or whatever he wants," Brendon says quickly. His voice is low and rough.
"So it's not about you getting off?" Spencer asks.
Brendon shakes his head.
Spencer closes his eyes. He thinks of what Ryan would say if he told him that people had put a chip in Brendon's head that releases some sort of aphrodisiac -- Spencer doesn't know if it's a drug or what, but that shit's not normal. So illegal.
"It's so that you'll want to please your--," Spencer says. "It's so that you'll want to please?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. "Yeah."
"That thing must be wired into your... fuck, I don't even know. All over your brain."
Brendon shrugs. Spencer knows because he can feel the movement. Brendon is close enough that Spencer can feel Brendon's breath hitting his neck. It's making it hard to think.
"So, if I tell you that I'd really like you to go sit on the chair--" Brendon moves before Spencer's even finished saying the last word. "Does that make it better or worse?"
"Better," Brendon says immediately.
"Brendon," Spencer says. "I really want you to feel better now, and to not do anything you don't want to do."
Brendon frowns and shakes his head. "I don't--"
"Okay," Spencer says. "It was worth a try."
--
--
--
It's easier for Brendon when he has physical contact, so they make it through dinner by pushing their chairs together and eating with their shoulders touching. Spencer's exhausted, and it doesn't seem like there's going to be any way for him to sleep in the near future.
"I'm really sorry," Brendon says softly, after they've finished eating. "I tried not to say anything. I know you don't like me."
"What?" Spencer says. "Why would you think that? Of course I like you."
"You don't want to--" Brendon says.
"That has nothing to do with liking you," Spencer says. "Except for the chip those fuckers put in your head, it's been awesome to have you on the ship."
"... Okay," Brendon says dubiously, his eyebrows wrinkled together.
Spencer wraps his arm around Brendon's shoulders, giving him a sideways squeeze. Brendon tucks his head into Spencer's neck and sits quietly.
--
--
--
"Is it getting bad again?" Spencer asks.
Brendon's been watching him work on the ship for the last couple hours. It was going okay for a while, but Brendon's been progressively squirmier as time goes on.
"I can wait," Brendon says, but his leg is jiggling up and down.
Spencer hurries to finish what he's doing.
He walks over and holds out his hand, pulling Brendon up off the floor. Brendon stands, his body brushing up against Spencer. He tilts his head, looking up at Spencer, and Spencer feels a wave of desire hit him low in the gut.
He takes a step backwards.
They walk to the bedroom and Spencer sits down on the edge of the bed. Brendon immediately climbs up beside him, and he looks so fucking hopeful and eager that Spencer almost feels guilty. Not as guilty as he would feel if he actually had sex with Brendon, though.
"I'd really like you to get yourself off," Spencer says. It seems to work best if he phrases things in a way that makes it seem like Brendon is doing something for him.
Brendon's face falls.
"I want to watch you," Spencer tries, feeling like an idiot.
Brendon nods, his mouth set in a tight line. He stands up and starts stripping off his clothes, slowly. Spencer watches him and tries to smile encouragingly.
Brendon stands naked a few feet away from the bed, his dick lifting up toward his stomach. He climbs back onto the bed, a little closer to Spencer this time than he was before, but still not touching him. Spencer knows he's trying.
"You want to--" he starts, leaning back against the wall and spreading his legs to make room for Brendon. When Brendon realizes what Spencer's offering he moves quickly, settling in between Spencer's thighs, his back to Spencer's chest.
"Thank you," Brendon says.
Spencer hums in response.
Brendon's dick is hard, and when Spencer says, "You should--" he starts jerking off. Spencer can feel the movement of it, Brendon's arm moving up and down.
Brendon holds his weight off of Spencer at first, but ends up sagging backwards. Spencer bends his neck to the side so that there's room for Brendon to rest his head against Spencer's collarbone.
Brendon keeps squirming around, but he stills when Spencer wraps his arm across Brendon's chest, holding loosely. Brendon sags back against him and exhales, long and shuddery.
Brendon's head is tipped to the side, and Spencer can see over his shoulder. He can mostly just make out the top of Brendon's hand; it comes into view on each upstroke. Brendon's legs are spread, his ankles hooked over Spencer's shins.
Brendon reaches for Spencer with his other hand, the injured one. He grabs onto Spencer's thigh, his three good fingers digging in. Spencer doesn't try to move him away. He just strokes his thumb slowly over a patch of bare skin and listens to the way that Brendon's breathing changes as he gets close.
"Come on," Spencer whispers into Brendon's ear, and Brendon's body starts trembling as he comes.
Brendon's breathing slows down after that, and even though Brendon's weight is heavy against his chest and making it a little difficult to breathe, Spencer finds himself starting to doze off. It's strange to be so close to Brendon, given that he's naked, given that he just jerked off and Spencer kind of watched. He feels vaguely turned on, but his dick isn't really hard, and even though his arm is getting sore from where he's holding it around Brendon's chest, Spencer still starts to doze off. It's been a long couple of weeks, and he's hardly been sleeping.
Somewhere in there, Brendon starts moving away. He does it so slowly and carefully that Spencer nearly doesn't notice.
"Sorry," Spencer mumbles, trying to blink himself awake. His hand is curled around Brendon's arm, and he reminds his fingers to let go.
Brendon freezes.
"s'kay," Spencer says, sleepily. He shifts down the bed, stretching out so that he's more lying on his back than sitting up.
Brendon is beside him on the bed now, and he can get up if he wants to.
"What's okay?" Brendon asks.
Spencer's too tired to guess at the tone of his voice.
He reaches sideways and pats at Brendon with clumsy fingers. "'s okay," he says again.
"Can I stay here?" Brendon asks, so quietly that Spencer almost doesn't hear him.
He hums, "Mh hm," and says, "'s only one bed, so we just have to," pausing to yawn before saying, "hm, yeah."
Brendon eases himself down on the bed.
"How do you feel?" Spencer asks.
"Better," Brendon says, in this breathy, relieved-sounding voice.
"I'm totally passing out here," Spencer says. "I just want to sleep."
"Yeah," Brendon says.
Spencer rolls over so that his back is to Brendon.
Brendon moves just as slowly and carefully, but this time his arm sneaks around Spencer's waist as he eases up behind Spencer. He's warm and Spencer is cold, and it's nice to have this kind of contact. This is nice, he likes this, he hopes that Brendon doesn't mind this because all he wants to do is stay like this and sleep.
He makes a little snuffling sound and Brendon presses his forehead to Spencer's back.
--
Spencer doesn't sleep soundly; he's used to sleeping alone, and each time he moves there's another body to be careful of. He's aware of Brendon in the back of his mind, and even though he doesn't sleep deeply, it feels so good to lie in bed, guilt-free for the first time in ages because Brendon's here with him. He can be in bed and it doesn't mean that Brendon's off elsewhere on the ship. Spencer sleeping doesn't mean that Brendon has to stay awake. If something goes wrong, Spencer will know, without having to listen carefully for sounds he might have otherwise missed.
He rolls over, and Brendon moves to accommodate him. Their faces are close together. Brendon has sleep crusting in the corner of his eye, and long black eyelashes.
"You okay?" Spencer asks.
"Yeah," Brendon says. "Thanks for letting me stay here."
"What?" Spencer asks, then cracks his jaw. "I mean, thanks for letting me stay. I'm pretty sure it's your turn to have the bed."
"I wasn't supposed to fall asleep," Brendon says. "After."
"Well, both of us need all the sleep we can get," Spencer says.
This time, Brendon rolls and Spencer follows after him, draping his arm around Brendon's waist.
--
Spencer wakes up with his nose tucked into the curve where Brendon's neck meets his shoulder. Brendon seems to be sound asleep, so Spencer climbs out of the bed quietly, making his way to the front of the ship.
"Are we making good time?" he asks Gabe.
"Pretty good," Gabe says. "We should be there in about ten hours."
"Awesome," Spencer says. He settles into the control seat and starts making preparations for their landing.
Brendon comes looking for him about an hour later. He's naked, still, his hair fluffing up all over his head. He's got a pillow crease pressed into his cheek.
"How are you feeling?" Spencer asks.
"Good," Brendon says. "Thanks."
"We're going to be landing today," Spencer says. "It won't be long before we find help."
"Do you really think they're going to be able to do anything?" Brendon asks.
"I don't know," Spencer says. "But they'll know more than I do, anyway. Hopefully."
"I bet you wish you didn't bring me back to the ship," Brendon says, the corners of his mouth turning up like it's a joke or something.
"No," Spencer says. "I don't wish that. Do you wish you hadn't come? It's been a bit of a disaster."
"Better than staying," Brendon says.
--
--
--
They land.
The coordinates Pete gave them seem to lead down a street with residential dwellings, but Spencer has to send Pete a message asking which one they're supposed to go to.
teh 1 w/ all the gargoyles, Pete messages back. go aroudn back and nock on the door.
The guy who answers the door only opens it a crack, squinting at them as if suspicious, or as if he's not used to seeing daylight.
"Mikey?" Spencer asks.
"J'st a sec," the guy says, closing the door again.
Spencer looks at Brendon and sighs.
The door opens again.
"Mikey?" Spencer asks.
"Yup," the guys says.
"Umm, we needed-- we were hoping that, because, ah." Spencer scratches the back of his neck. "We're having a bit of trouble, and Pete said you might be able to help."
"Pete?" Mikey repeats.
"He said to say that, umm, sweet little dudes?" Spencer says.
Mikey shakes his head. His face doesn't change expressions, but he makes a huffing sound. "Pete's such an asshole," Mikey says.
Spencer's eyes widen.
Mikey takes a step backward and starts walking away. Brendon and Spencer watch him head down the hall, and hurry to catch up when he calls, "Are you coming or what?"
--
"Well, that's not good," Mikey says after they've finished explaining things to him. "It's illegal all over the galaxy to fuck with someone's brain like that."
"No shit," Spencer says. "Do you have any suggestions on how to un-fuck it?"
Spencer sat beside Brendon while he jerked off again, just a couple of hours before they landed, but it didn't seem to take very well. Brendon is sitting close beside Spencer, and Spencer can feel the tension in his body. He's very quiet, but Spencer doesn't know if that's just because there's someone else around. He's pretty sure that Brendon was quiet when he first got on the ship, but lately he and Spencer have filled most of the hours with conversation.
"I'll need to check some stuff out," Mikey says, before he's cut off by a woman yelling, "Do your friends want something to drink?" from elsewhere in the house.
"We're busy, ma," Mikey shouts.
Spencer blinks. "Are we in your mother's basement?"
Mikey waves his hand. "I don't live here anymore. I was just hanging out with Gerard."
"Gerard is the guy who answered the door?" Spencer asks. "And if you don't live here, why is this where Pete sent us?"
"I spend a lot of time with my family," Mikey says.
--
Gerard comes out to sit with them while Mikey does whatever it is he has to do.
He keeps staring at Brendon, until finally Spencer snaps, "What?"
"I was listening at the door," Gerard says, sounding unapologetic. "I can't believe that someone would do that! It's so--"
"Illegal," Spencer finishes. "Yes, I think we're all quite aware of that."
"Horrible," Gerard says. "No one should ever be able to control someone else. You should always be able to be your own person. Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, watching Brendon with big, earnest eyes.
Brendon gives Spencer a panicked look.
"That's why we're here," Spencer says. "Maybe your brother can help us get the thing out."
"No one should ever get to control someone's brain," Gerard says.
Spencer nods, but before he can say anything, Brendon says, "No, they shouldn't."
--
Mikey pops in briefly to tell them that he's calling a few friends over who might be able to help.
Spencer says, "That's great, thanks."
Gerard and Brendon are sitting close together, talking, and they don't look up.
--
"Okay," Mikey says, sometime later. "You want to come with me? I think we've got something set up."
Something turns out to be a room, which has a sofa pushed to the side and a sheet laid out over the ground. There's a chair in the center of the room, and a bunch of machines and equipment, none of which Spencer recognizes at all.
There are three other guys standing around.
One of them steps forward, saying, "Hey, if you just sit here, we can do a couple of tests and see about getting that out."
The guy is wearing a blue cloth cap, which flattens only the very top of his hair. The rest of it rests in frizzy curls around his shoulders. He has a mask over his face.
Spencer does not think it is a good idea for these people to fuck with Brendon's head.
"Okay," he says, walking over to grab Brendon's arm. "Thanks for your help, but we have to be on our way."
"It's okay," Mikey says. "Ray's just going to use that," Mikey nods toward one of the machines, "to see how deep into his brain the thing is. It's totally safe. Frank and Bob are here in case anything goes wrong."
Spencer opens his mouth to protest, but Brendon starts walking forward, sitting down on the chair.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Spencer asks.
"Yeah," Brendon says, settling into the chair. "I'm sure."
Spencer walks over to the couch that has been pushed to the side of the room, and sits down as well.
--
"So," Ray says. They'd all left the room to discuss the results of the test. Spencer watches their faces carefully as they come back in, but he can't tell if he's about to hear good news or bad. "It's not a chip as much as... a whole lot of wires."
"A lot of wires?" Brendon asks.
"Like, really, a lot of wires," Frank says. "Probably it would not be a good idea for you to go outside in a lightning storm."
He giggles, and Bob reaches over and punches him in the shoulder.
"What?" Frank asks. "That's legitimate medical advice."
"What we're thinking is that we probably can't take it out."
Spencer feels sick to his stomach. He looks over at Brendon, but Brendon's face is totally blank. Brendon has been sitting on the couch beside Spencer as they waited for the guys to get back. Spencer can feel the way his body is shaking. He knows that it must be getting really bad for Brendon again. Brendon hasn't said anything though, has just been sitting quietly and trying to hold himself still. If there's nothing that can be done, Spencer wants to get him back to the ship as quickly as possible.
"Thanks for your time," Brendon says. His voice sounds calm, even though Spencer can see his hand clenched into a fist at his side.
"We can maybe get it to stop mucking your brain up, though," Mikey says.
"How?" Spencer asks.
"We think we figured out where the CPU is, and I think that if we sent a big enough jolt of electricity, we should be able to short circuit that motherfucker," Ray says.
"It's running on the electricity created by your neural activity," Bob says, "so we can't just cut off the power source, but we're pretty sure that this will stop it from working."
"Big enough jolt of electricity?" Spencer asks.
"We should be able to control it," Ray says. "We don't even need to cut into your head. We can just use a needle to conduct the flow."
Brendon looks over at Spencer. Spencer pulls the corners of his mouth back.
"Do you think it will work?" Brendon asks.
"I don't know," Ray says. "I think so, but to be totally honest it could also fry your brain a little."
"A little?" Spencer asks.
"We're pretty sure it won't kill him," Mikey says. "I was electrocuted once, and I'm totally fine."
"He took an electric heater into the shower," Frank says.
Spencer's eyes widen.
"It was a toaster oven," Mikey says. "Shut up."
"I have never been electrocuted," Ray says.
"That's just the way his hair looks," Frank agrees.
Brendon looks at Spencer again, then stands up, walking back over to the chair.
"Okay," he says.
Spencer stands as well, following him over. "Are you sure?" he asks.
"If it's not going to kill me then I want to try," Brendon says. "What if it starts hurting again? Or, I mean. Things haven't been too great lately, either."
Spencer wants to say, no, but it's Brendon's body and Brendon's choice, and so instead he nods sharply and walks back to the couch.
"All right," Ray says.
Frank and Bob hold up some machine, and Ray figures out where to put the needle in, and he's wearing gloves and a mask, but the thing is going into Brendon's head, and they're in someone's basement, and Spencer feels shaky and sick with worry. He doesn't say anything though, doesn't want to make Brendon more nervous.
He almost loses it when Ray slides the needle in and Brendon makes a soft noise of discomfort - Ray said it wouldn't hurt when they used the electricity, and so they didn't use an anaesthetic - but Brendon is quiet except for that, and Spencer manages to hold himself back.
"Here we go," Ray says. "If you start... I don't know, if you start seeing colors or if weird shit happens, say something and we'll stop. If I've got this where it should be, I don't think you should even feel anything."
Spencer crosses his arms, hugging himself. He holds his breath, feels his heart pounding. His head throbs, tension spiking up from the tops of his shoulders. He stares down at his knees, and he doesn't even know when Ray pushes the button or does whatever it is he does, but eventually Ray says, "Okay, that should do it."
Spencer flies to his feet, rushing over to Brendon's chair.
Brendon's blinking slowly, sweat running down the sides of his face.
"Are you okay?" Spencer asks. "Can you see me? Am I blue?"
Brendon's mouth twitches. He says, speaking slowly and carefully, "You're not blue."
"Are you okay?" Spencer asks.
"I think so," Brendon says.
Ray moves Spencer aside gently, shines a light in Brendon's eyes and asks him some questions.
Spencer's heart is fluttering. His hands are shaking and he thinks he should probably go sit down again, but he wants to stay as close to Brendon as possible.
Mikey gives him a small smile and says, "Seems like it worked."
Spencer takes a deep breath.
--
"Are you sure he's okay to fly?" Spencer asks again.
Mikey rolls his eyes, but Ray says, "I really do think it will be okay. All we did was turn it off. It might be kind of weird for him for a while. I think his brain will have to form some new pathways, given that whatever the fuck they put in there was guiding things for a while, but he's pretty young, and I think it'll be okay. Maybe if you can get him to a real hospital they can remove it, but, you know. Be careful. That shit's fucking illegal and you're going to have to answer a lot of questions."
"Thank you," Spencer says again. "Are you sure there's nothing I can--"
"It's cool," Mikey says. "You can just owe us one sometime. Oh, or better yet-- tell Pete he owes us one. That dude knows a lot of people, he can make things happen. You can owe Pete one and he can owe us one."
"Thank you," Brendon says.
He looks surprised when Mikey holds out his hand, but manages to copy the gesture. He smiles when Mikey shakes his hand, and grins when Gerard says, "So, seriously, you can call any time."
"Thanks, guys," Brendon says. "I owe you one too, for what that's worth."
Spencer and Brendon walk back to the ship. Spencer goes through the motions of preparing for takeoff, moving on autopilot.
Brendon helps out and at one point Spencer turns around and finds Brendon right there, both of them reaching for the same lever.
Spencer pulls back, making a high, startled noise. He opens his mouth to apologize and snorts out something like a laugh, and after that he can't stop. Brendon's eyes go wide.
"I'm a little hysterical," Spencer says, in between giggles. "I'm sorry."
"I'm the one who got electrocuted in my brain," Brendon says. "Shouldn't I be the hysterical one?"
But that just makes Spencer laugh harder. "I'm sorry," he gasps.
Brendon shakes his head. He reaches for Spencer with careful fingers and leads him into the eating area. Spencer sits on one chair and Brendon sits down beside him, resting his elbow on the table and his chin on his open palm.
"How're you feeling?" Spencer asks.
"I don't know," Brendon says. "Okay, I think. Not like I'm going to crawl out of my skin anymore, so that's nice."
"You want something to drink?" Spencer asks.
Brendon nods, so Spencer gets him and Brendon each a cup of the orange flavored shit that's supposed to pass for orange juice.
"You want to lie down for a bit?" Spencer asks, once Brendon's glass is empty.
"Yeah," Brendon says. He puts their glasses away as he walks out of the room.
After he's gone, Spencer almost wants to follow after him, to keep him within sight. He busies himself with maintaining the ship instead.
--
--
--
"Just a couple more days until we get back onto the planet," Spencer says. "It'll have been over three weeks since we left your planet by the time we get back."
"Feels like longer," Brendon says. He's sitting in the control chair, flipping through a number of data files that Spencer had Gabe bring up so that Brendon has some idea what the planet's going to be like, what he can expect.
Spencer is stretched out on the floor. He's got a reader beside him, but he's not really looking at anything.
Spencer yawns, and Brendon says, "It's your turn to have the bed," and then yawns himself.
"You're the one that got all jolted with electricity," Spencer says. "You get first dibs if you're tired."
"I'm all right," Brendon says.
Spencer raises one eyebrow.
"Just let me have like an hour," Brendon says. "And then it's all yours."
"Sleep for however long you want," Spencer assures him. Maybe he can have a little catnap in the control chair.
--
Spencer's walking past the sleeping area when Brendon pulls the curtain back.
"Oh, hey," Spencer says. "Are you done sleeping?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. He's wearing a pair of Spencer's pj bottoms, and no shirt. His torso isn't bruised anymore, but his nipples are still pierced.
Brendon holds the curtain back so that Spencer can walk into the room. He moves aside when Spencer enters, and then doesn't leave immediately.
Spencer walks over to the bed, grabbing one corner of the bedding and pulling it back. Brendon always makes the bed neatly immediately after getting up. When he turns around again, Brendon's still in the room, hanging back like he's waiting for something.
"What's up?" Spencer asks.
Brendon takes a deep breath and then walks over to Spencer. He bites his lip like he's trying to decide something, his eyes darting around the room, making only brief eye contact with Spencer.
He licks his lips, finally looking straight at Spencer. After a couple of false starts, Brendon says, "You can have me."
Spencer's mouth feels dry. "Have-- what do you mean?" he asks.
"Have me," Brendon repeats, looking pointedly at the bed. He starts fingering the waistband of the pants he's wearing, making like he's going to push them off.
"I don't know, don't know how to offer myself to you," Brendon says, glancing up nervously at Spencer and hesitating.
"Does that-- did it not work?" asks Spencer.
Brendon frowns for a moment before says, "Oh. No. No, it's not the thing in my brain." He looks sad, but continues, "I just thought. That we. I thought that we. Could. Now."
"Brendon," Spencer says, then stops, trying to think of what he should say. "You know how Ray said that you might need some time? To get things sorted out? Maybe this is part of what he means."
Brendon starts to protest and Spencer quickly says, "Maybe not! Maybe it's not. I'm just saying-- maybe you should take a little time, just so you'll know for sure."
"I don't need to do anything," Brendon says. "It's different. I know it's different. I just thought it would be--"
"Would be what?" Spencer asks.
"I think we should," Brendon says.
"Why?"
"You're nice," Brendon says. "I like you."
"There are a lot of nice people," Spencer says. "That's exactly what I'm saying. You've been stuck on a ship with me for a while now. We'll get back, and you'll see. Okay?"
"Yeah, sure," Brendon says.
He walks out of the room, and Spencer feels relieved and he feels like a total shithead.
--
It takes Spencer a while to drift off and then he sleeps longer than he means to. He still feels drowsy when he wakes up. He cleans up in the bathroom, and when he walks into the main part of the ship Brendon pokes his head out of the eating area and says, "I re-hydrated us dinner."
Spencer sits down at the table beside him. Brendon has laid out at least half a dozen different dishes.
"Did you have trouble deciding what to make?" Spencer asks.
He's just teasing, but Brendon frowns. "Is it okay? I thought that, since we're landing soon, and it seemed like there was still lots left, but."
"No, no, it's awesome," Spencer says. He reaches for the spoon, and starts dishing food onto his plate. "Thanks for this," he says. "I was starving."
Brendon smiles, waits until Spencer has started eating before he dishes food onto his own plate.
--
--
--
"Prepare for landing, motherfuckers," Gabe says.
--
--
--
Part Three
--
--
--
Except that, three hours before they're due to land within walking distance of the hospital, they do.
Brendon's been writhing on the bed, sweating and making this horrible whimpering sound every time he inhales. Spencer doesn't know if they're going to be able to land after all; there's no way Brendon can walk into the medical facility like this, no way they're going to be able to see a doctor without raising a million questions. He wonders if it would be best to go anyway: they'd be able to take care of Brendon better than he can, and the pain seems to be getting worse and worse.
It's probably time for Spencer to change the cloth on Brendon's forehead again. Not that it's actually helping, but dampening it with cool water at least gives Spencer something to do.
He stands -- he pulled up a chair beside the bed -- but before he's started reaching for the cloth, Brendon is sitting straight up, the cloth falling down and landing on one of his legs.
"What?" Spencer asks.
"It stopped," Brendon says, looking around the room with wide eyes.
"What? What stopped?" Spencer asks.
"It doesn't hurt anymore," Brendon says. He finally looks straight at Spencer. He looks surprised, confused, and then his face breaks into a huge grin. "It's stopped hurting."
"Seriously?" Spencer asks.
"Yeah," Brendon says.
Spencer rubs his hands up and down his thighs, drying off his sweaty palms. His fingers are shaking a little.
"Seriously?" he asks again.
"Seriously," Brendon says. He says, "Fuck, I really hope it doesn't start again," then makes a face so horrified that, once Spencer realizes he's upset about swearing and not that the pain has started again, Spencer starts to laugh.
"So do I," he says.
--
They wait apprehensively while Gabe lands the ship, but Brendon says he's fine, it's okay, he doesn't hurt anymore.
As they walk off the ship, Brendon asks, "Why do you think it stopped?"
"Maybe we got far enough away," Spencer guesses. "Maybe... you said it was connected to-- maybe it's not anymore. Maybe the rebels killed him."
He looks sideways at Brendon, trying to gauge his response, but Brendon's face is blank when he hums, "Hmm."
--
The doctor needs to re-break Brendon's finger before she can set it in the right position.
Spencer leaves the room.
--
Checking Brendon in was easy, but Spencer has to show his government ID and every piece of documentation for the trip that he has on him - thank goodness he brought his official data pad with him to the hospital - before they'll let him and Brendon leave.
Brendon comes out of the treatment room looking pale, with his finger wrapped in some sort of contraption that engulfs his entire hand. It's certainly more impressive than the splint that Spencer fashioned.
"You okay?" he asks as they walk out of the hospital.
"Yeah," Brendon says. "Thanks. I didn't realize how badly my finger hurt until everything else stopped hurting."
"Well, hopefully it will all feel better now."
"The doctor said she thinks it will heal okay," Brendon says. "I didn't really think it would, and," he takes a quick breath before quickly finishing, "I like to play music so I'm glad it's going to be okay."
"I'm glad, too," Spencer says. "What instruments do you play?"
"A couple of things," Brendon says. "The master liked me to play when he had company. I liked it, too. I'd get a couple of hours a day to myself in the music room."
"That sounds good," Spencer says. "I played in a band with Ryan when we were teenagers. That did not sound nice."
Brendon laughs.
"So, I've got to refuel the ship," Spencer says. "Do you want to walk around for a bit? Or come back with me? It'll probably take me about an hour, so it'd be a chance for you to stretch your legs at least."
"Can I, I mean, is it all right if I stay with you?" Brendon asks.
"Yeah, of course," Spencer says. "The doctor gave you some new painkillers, right? You're probably ready to sit down after all of that. How's your hand feeling?"
"Big," Brendon says. "And now that it's wrapped up all I can think about is scratching the tip of my finger."
"Don't jostle it!" Spencer says. "It's all safe in its cast now, just... leave it be."
Brendon says solemnly, "Okay," but the corner of his mouth twitches upwards.
--
--
--
"Are we going back to your planet now?" Brendon asks. The ship is refuelled, and Gabe tells him that it looks like smooth flying for the next forty hours, at least. Although, as he reminds Spencer, he's not psychic, and sometimes there is no way to know for sure.
"After we stop and see Mikey," Spencer says.
"Why?" Brendon asks. "It stopped hurting. We can just go back now."
"It's still in your head though; wouldn't you rather get it out?"
"It doesn't matter if it's not hurting," Brendon says. "It's been there since I was fourteen; it's not like I'll know the difference."
"I don't know," Spencer says. "What if there are side effects down the line? Or, I don't know. Something! It's in your brain."
"You already stopped once for me," Brendon says, holding up his hand. "And, thank you, I'm very grateful. We don't need to stop anywhere else. I've already slowed you down enough."
"You're not slowing me down," Spencer assures him. "It's pretty much on the way, anyway. This is the direction we'd be heading, regardless. We just have to make a few adjustments in a few days. We can wait and see then," he suggests.
"All right," Brendon says, very agreeably, even though Spencer's pretty sure that his mind is already made up.
--
--
--
Now that Brendon isn't in extreme agony, Spencer finds he quite likes having someone else on the ship. The space is small to begin with, and it's a little difficult to organize sharing the bed, but overall it's nice to have company. He's started to teach Brendon how to do some of the basic ship maintenance, but there isn't all that much to do -- normally he'd spend the return flight writing up reports from the mission, but this time there isn't a lot for him to say.
They sit at the little table after eating. There's one piece of -- whatever the pink stuff is, left on the table. Spencer can tell that Brendon's eyeing it, but he also knows that Brendon would never take the last helping for himself. Spencer's sitting and waiting to see what happens. So far, they've been chatting for ten minutes and Brendon doesn't seem any closer to taking it.
"There's this... it's like the planet started to crack in half, and then filled up with water," Brendon is telling him. "And then all these jagged little slices coming away from the main split."
"Oh," Spencer says. He stands and dashes over to where he'd left the data pad containing the report about Brendon's planet. He settles beside Brendon again. "This?" he asks, scrolling through the data until he finds what he guesses to be an aerial shot.
"Yeah," Brendon says. He traces his finger down the main split, holding it just above the screen without actually touching. "That's where we get all of our water. See, and then we live on the land between the cracks."
"What about the rest of the planet?" Spencer asks.
"It goes all the way down," Brendon says, sliding his finger off of the data pad in demonstration. "All the way around the planet. People don't live on the poles, though. You can't live without water."
"Right," Spencer says.
"This is where I lived," Brendon says, pointing his finger in a general area. "Somewhere around here."
Spencer doesn't know how Brendon can tell. Without any landmarks, the map just looks abstract to him.
"The master's house was really close to the water."
Spencer still feels his chest tighten warily when Brendon uses the word master. It doesn't seem to bother Brendon though.
"I used to go and sit on the banks a lot," Brendon says. "The water was really shallow and there were fish that lived there, because shallow water is warmer, I think. If you hold your hand above the water, they'll jump for your fingers."
"Note to self," Spencer says. "Keep hands away from water."
Brendon laughs. "Nah, they were only like," he holds his fingers an inch apart, "this big. It doesn't hurt at all, it's just kind of tickley."
Spencer gives him a skeptical look. "I like mammals better than fish," he says.
"Me, too," Brendon says. "The master had pets, but I wasn't allowed to touch them."
"Why not?" Spencer asks.
Brendon shrugs. "I took a bowl down to the water and caught a fish that I kept in my room for seven years, so it was like I had a pet anyway."
"That's a long time," Spencer says. Then, "Oh my goodness, just take it already."
Brendon looks at him guiltily, shaking his head.
"Seriously," Spencer says. "I'm done. Even if I weren't, you're equally entitled to food, I swear."
He's tempted to just put the pink stuff onto Brendon's plate, but he doesn't, and in the end Brendon helps himself. Brendon's still careful sometimes, but he never calls Spencer sir anymore, which is a huge relief. Spencer still feels weird when people call him Mr. Smith for work-related things. But now that Brendon's stopped doing that, he's most just this awesome dude that Spencer gets to kill time with. It gets boring to travel around by himself all the time.
"See, if you'd taken it earlier it wouldn't be cold," Spencer says.
Brendon gives Spencer a wary look, but he eats what's left, and when they work together to clear dishes off the table, Brendon smiles at him.
--
--
--
Brendon smiles at him a lot, actually: when Spencer makes a stupid joke, when Spencer offers to show him something new, when Spencer asks him what he'd like for dinner. Sometimes it seems real (usually when Spencer makes dumb jokes, surprisingly), but sometimes it seems like... something else.
"Your eye looks better," Spencer says as they're eating breakfast. It's been well over a week now, and the blackening under his skin has started to fade yellow.
"It doesn't hurt anymore," Brendon says, poking at his face in demonstration.
"Careful," Spencer teases. "Don't want to re-injure it."
Brendon touches his cheek again, but more carefully this time, his fingertips tracing over his cheekbone. He seems distracted by the texture of his own skin.
He glances over at Spencer guiltily and pulls his hand away.
--
--
--
"Yeah, sounds good," Spencer says. "I'll be in contact again shortly." He ends the transmission and turns around to find Brendon the entrance.
"Sorry," Brendon says. "I wasn't listening in."
"No, it's fine," Spencer says. "Come here, I've got something for you."
Brendon comes and crouches beside Spencer's chair while Spencer pulls up something onto the screen.
"Pete says that they're sending negotiators to your planet," Spencer says. "I think they left a couple of days ago."
"That's awesome," Brendon says. "Do you think they'll be able to do anything?"
"I don't know," Spencer says, "but they're taking really big ships, and they've got it set up so that anyone who lived on your planet can get refugee status. You know, if there were more... if there were others like you."
Brendon nods, slowly.
"So, I don't know how many people are actually going to want to come with them, or if it'll be too late, or if they'll have the same problem you had--?"
"The master was wealthy," Brendon says. "Most people couldn't afford that kind of technology. Plus, I was fourteen when I went to live with him, so it was still early enough to be... safe. I don't know, a lot of people don't survive the procedure, so I don't think they do it all that often."
"Well, umm, hopefully it'll be okay," Spencer says. "At least we know what to expect or whatever. So, yeah, I don't know how many people are going to actually want to come, but I thought, well, I mentioned it to Pete, and he thought that it would be really helpful. But, again, it's totally up to you. We thought that maybe you might want to help."
"Help?" Brendon asks.
"Yeah, like, I thought, well, Pete's the one who suggested it, that you could work for the department, Pete sent over the stuff for you to sign. You'd be a liaison." Spencer glances over at Brendon. "It's just a six week contract right now, but I guess they'd see how it went and what you wanted to do and stuff."
"I don't know how to help anyone," Brendon says.
"They'll train you on anything you don't know," says Spencer. "It's probably going to be super boring, just helping people fill out paperwork, mostly. It's just maybe it would be cool if it were you helping instead of one of us, you know? Someone that they could trust."
"A liaison?"
"If you just want to fuck off and not deal with this stuff anymore, you can," Spencer says. "But, I mean. It's something to do, right? While you figure it out? They'll help you get set up with an apartment and stuff."
"No, I mean, yes, yeah," Brendon says. "Boring is good. I'd be down for boring right now."
Spencer grins. "Awesome! See, Pete sent all this stuff over. You can fill it out as best you can. Don't worry if you don't know what to say: Pete's not too fussy about the technicalities. Just, you know, your name and birthday and stuff, and then sign it, and then you'll have a job for when we get back."
Brendon's still kneeling beside Spencer's chair. Spencer stands so that he can move out of the seat and make room for Brendon. Brendon doesn't rise immediately off of the floor though, and there's an awkward moment when Spencer's stuck standing with the chair behind him and Brendon in front of him, not sure how he's going to get by.
Brendon stares up at him, but blinks, shaking his head a little. His face changes into something else, like he's telling himself something, and he pushes to his feet as well, stepping sideways so that there's room for Spencer to pass.
"Just gimme a call if you get stuck on something," Spencer says.
"Okay," Brendon says, settling into the chair.
--
"It asks for names and numbers for references," Brendon says, twisting in the chair to look up at Spencer.
"Just put me down," Spencer says. "I don't think anyone but Pete is going to look at this, but if someone does they can just call me."
Brendon opens his mouth, but cuts himself off before actually saying anything.
"And I'll tell them how you flew the ship back with me, and that you're really good at fixing shit with your hands, and that you can get the CO tank switched without having to turn the gas off first because you can actually hook the fucking valve in on the first try all the time, and I've been doing this for three years and I still can't manage."
Brendon nods slowly.
"Pete hired Ryan before he'd even finished getting his degree, with zero work experience, just because Ryan called the office every single day for three months. He's doing a job that he's totally not qualified for, but he's doing awesome and Pete was totally right to hire him. And then Ryan got me this job, which I don't know that I'm really qualified for either, given how badly things have gone. I obviously don't have any idea what I'm doing, and if you don't know what you're doing, then you can just fake your way through or ask someone for help. That's what I do."
"I don't want to screw something up," Brendon says.
"You won't, seriously. If anything, you're going to be bored out of your mind, because it'll be the same drill with every person, getting them to answer the same questions and fill out the same forms, and pretty soon you'll be doing it in your sleep."
Brendon takes a slow breath and says, "Yeah, okay."
"Okay," Spencer echoes. "Okay?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. "Thanks."
"Seriously, it'll be good to have you around," Spencer says. "You know way more about what's going on than the rest of us do."
Brendon grins.
Spencer stands, waiting for him to turn back around and continue filling the form out, but Brendon seems distracted. It looks like he's staring at Spencer, but he's probably just zoned out or something.
Spencer says awkwardly, "Okay," again, and that gets Brendon to snap out of it.
--
--
--
"Beep beep," Gabe says. "Attention, we are overheating."
Spencer stands up in a panic. "Overheating?" he asks as he runs back to the engine room.
"Yuppers," Gabe says. "Trouble!"
"Why are we overheating? What's overheating? What should I do?" Spencer asks.
"I think a pipe burst," Gabe says. "I'm not too sure because when things break, it's hard to monitor them. Open up the lower A4 control panel."
"What am I looking for?" Spencer asks.
"Something broken," Gabe says.
"Umm," Spencer says. There are a lot of wires. "I am not a mechanic," Spencer says.
"We're all going to die!" Gabe yells.
"Stop scaring me like that," Spencer snaps. "You can't die, anyway. You're a computer program."
"Oh, now you're just being mean," Gabe says.
"Cry me a-- Oh, wait, I think this is unplugged," Spencer says. He grabs a green wire that's flapping around. "Where do I put it?"
"Is it common for you not to know where to insert something?" Gabe asks.
"I'm going to unplug you," Spencer says.
"You can't unplug me! I'm flying the ship," Gabe says. "Ha."
"Where does this go?" Spencer wonders aloud, looking around the panel.
"First," Gabe says, "you find an open hole..."
"Oh, quiet," Spencer says. "There it is." Hopefully, anyway. The end of the wire fits when he slides it in place.
"Beep, beep, .... beep," Gabe says. "... ... Beep."
"What does that even mean?" Spencer asks.
"Disaster averted," Gabe says. "Congratulations. Excellent teamwork!"
"That was not teamwork," Spencer protests.
"Did I or did I not alert you to the problem?" Gabe asks.
Spencer says, "Hm."
"Then stop yer whining."
"You are so lippy," Spencer says. "And you don't even have lips!"
"More the shame for you, darling," Gabe says.
Spencer rolls his eyes and pushes up from where he's been kneeling on the floor. He turns around to find Brendon standing in the doorway, staring at him.
"We're good to go," Spencer says, giving Brendon a thumbs up.
Brendon licks his lips. It takes him a minute to say, "Yeah, great." He stares at Spencer for a stretch beyond that, even, before finally jerking his gaze away. His cheeks go red, and he turns around, hurrying away.
"I'm on a ship full of crazies," Spencer mutters.
--
--
--
Brendon keeps smiling and he keeps staring, and Spencer tells Gabe to take them to the coordinates that Pete passed on without checking with Brendon first. Whether or not Brendon will admit it, there's something wrong with him.
Like now, for example. Spencer's writing up something on the data pad, and Brendon's sitting across from him with one of the readers on his lap. Spencer's not sure what's been uploaded to that one, but certainly there must be something that catches Brendon's fancy.
Instead, his attention seems focused on something else. His eyes keep darting around the room. He squirms around, moving on the chair, twitching his legs and his hands. The seat keeps squeaking slightly each time he shifts his weight, and the noise distracts Spencer away from what he's writing.
He glances over at Brendon and sees Brendon look away guiltily. Brendon stares at a spot a few feet away from where Spencer is sitting and bites his lip.
"Okay, seriously," Spencer says. "What is wrong?"
Brendon's eyes meet his briefly before Brendon looks away again.
He mumbles, "Nothing," but before Spencer can ask anything else he stands up and flees the room, pausing only to say, "Pardon me," before leaving.
Spencer shakes his head, and turns his attention back to his data pad.
--
--
--
The downside about there only being one bed is that neither of them gets to sleep for more than four or five hours in a row. Spencer feels tired most of the time, a little on edge.
They've been flying for a few days straight now, and hopefully it's only going to take them another couple days to find Mikey. Pete gave them coordinates, but Spencer doesn't know how difficult it will be to find Mikey after they land.
He pokes his spoon at what's left of his porridge. He's been up for an hour, which means that Brendon has been up for six.
"You want to take the bed for a while?" Spencer asks.
Brendon hasn't eaten much. He's breathing shallowly and squirming in his seat.
"Thanks," Brendon says, pushing away from the table.
"Are you all right?" Spencer asks. "You look fevered."
He stands as well, reaching for Brendon. He wants to see if Brendon feels hot, but when his fingers make contact with Brendon's cheek, Brendon shudders so hard that Spencer recoils instinctively.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"Nothing," Brendon says in a tight, high voice. "I'm going to sleep now, if that's okay."
Spencer frowns as he watches Brendon flee. He wonders if he should chase after him, but he doesn't want to upset Brendon further, so instead he sits back at the table and forces down the rest of his breakfast.
--
Spencer's poking around in the engine room a few hours later, when Brendon comes out again.
He takes one look at Brendon and says, "Couldn't sleep?"
Brendon's hair is dirty and he's got dark bags under his eyes. Except for the flushed spots on his cheeks, he's pale.
He's wearing one of Spencer's t-shirts and he keeps tugging the hem down. It probably does the opposite of what he intended, drawing Spencer's attention downward. He glances at Brendon's fingers twisting into the hem of the shirt and notices the bulge in Brendon's pants just lower than that.
Given how convinced Spencer is that Brendon is sick, he's surprised to see that Brendon's hard. He knows how it goes though: sometimes a dick just has a mind of its own. It isn't like being hard actually means anything.
Spencer looks back at Brendon's face. Brendon's mouth is open and the full curve of his lower lip is red and noticeable.
"No, I couldn't sleep," Brendon finally says in a shaky voice.
"That happens sometimes," Spencer says, shrugging. "It's hard to get used to not having natural hours of sunlight and darkness. "You said this was your first time on a ship, right?"
"Yeah, that's ri-ight." Brendon's voice cracks over the last word.
"You'll get used to it," Spencer says. "It definitely took me a couple of months, and that was with regular sleeping hours. We've probably both totally fucked up our sleeping schedules."
Brendon inhales sharply, then nods.
"Are you ill?" Spencer asks, stepping toward Brendon.
Brendon shakes his head quickly.
"Just the-- ship," Brendon says.
"It's very cramped," Spencer agrees. "It'll be nice to walk around on land again." He stretches, arching his back until it cracks loudly. "I'm just trying to calibrate the flux reactor, you want to watch?"
Brendon starts to come toward him, but seems to think better of it at the last minute and ends up backing away.
"Next time," Brendon says. "I'm going to --" He trails off, and runs out of the room without any further explanation.
Spencer makes a mental note to have Gabe look up cabin fever for him.
--
He finishes in the engine room and walks over to the sleeping area, thinking that he might try to nap for a couple of hours.
Brendon's already there, though, standing in the center of the room, both of his hands fisted in his hair.
When he sees Spencer, his face crumbles.
"What?" Spencer says. "Brendon, what's wrong?"
Brendon doesn't answer so Spencer walks over and touches Brendon's shoulder. Brendon reacts to that, spinning around and grabbing Spencer's shirt with both hands.
"Please," he says, then drops to his knees.
"Please, what?" Spencer asks. "Tell me what's wrong. Tell me what I should do?"
Brendon reaches for Spencer's pants this time, and whoa, shit, they've been here before. Brendon starts working on Spencer's belt, but before he gets it undone Spencer grabs his wrists and stills his hands. He tries to be careful not to knock the cast on Brendon's pinkie finger in the process.
"Hey, hey, we've talked about this," Spencer says.
"I'll do anything," Brendon says. "Tell me what you'd rather and I'll do it."
"I don't--" Spencer starts.
"Is it because you prefer girls?" Brendon asks. "I can bend over. You don't have to touch me. You won't even, you won't be able to tell, please. I'll wear something, whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want, please, I'll make it worth your while."
Spencer's hands loosen and Brendon immediately starts trying to undo Spencer's pants again. He's breathing hard, sweat sliding down his temple and making his bangs stick to his forehead. His hands shake as he fumbles with the button on Spencer's pants.
"Are you okay?" Spencer asks.
Brendon shakes his head vigorously, no, but doesn't stop trying to get Spencer's dick out. Spencer is scared and flaccid.
"Do you want me on my knees?" Brendon asks. "Like this, do you want me like this? However you want, just tell me."
"Brendon," Spencer says, as clearly as he can. "Have you ever felt like this before?"
Brendon shakes his head. "It's never gotten this bad, please, please."
"What do you mean?" Spencer asks.
"The longest the master was ever away from home was a week," Brendon says. "It wasn't-- it's always been bearable."
"Why did it get bad when he was gone?" Spencer asks.
"No one to fuck me," Brendon says.
"You can't just-- why can't you just take care of yourself?" Spencer asks.
"Can't," Brendon says, shaking his head. "No, can't."
"You weren't allowed to?" Spencer guesses. "You're not there anymore. You can."
"No," Brendon says, his hips shifting restlessly, arching forward and making the hard line of his cock that much more obvious. "Doesn't... work. Nothing happens."
"You can't get yourself off?" Spencer asks. "What? Why?"
"Had to be him," Brendon says.
"That's just-- that must have been something they told you," Spencer says. "It's not true."
"I tried," Brendon says. "I've been trying, it doesn't work, please, please, I need you, please, whatever you want."
"Jesus," Spencer says. Brendon stares at him with glassy eyes, breathing shallowly. "You look drugged," he says.
Brendon shakes his head, helplessly. "I didn't," he says. "I haven't taken anything, I promise, I promise, please, I'm sorry, please."
"No, I know, I know, it's okay." Spencer exhales slowly, trying to clear his head. "Maybe it's-- do you think it might be the thing they put in your head?" he guesses.
"I don't know," Brendon says. His hands slide up Spencer's thighs as he rubs his cheek against Spencer's crotch. "You can fuck my mouth," Brendon says. "I won't use my hands. You can close your eyes, and it'll just be a mouth, please, just let me-- anything, please. You can close your eyes and pretend it's not me."
"How will that help?" Spencer asks. He gestures vaguely at Brendon, sweeping his hand. "You're all-- you're the one that needs to--"
"No, no," Brendon says. "Whatever you want. You don't have to touch me, you don't have to, I'll do everything, please just let me, I want your cock, I want to suck you I want you to fuck me, however you want, anything, anything, please."
Brendon's pupils are dilated and he's flushed all the way down his neck. He stares at Spencer with unfocused eyes and moves with a clumsy desperation, like he's been drugged.
"Why is it so bad all of a sudden?" Spencer asks. He starts to say, "You seemed fine before," before he catches himself. Brendon didn't seem fine before, he seemed like he was in a huge fucking amount of pain. There probably wasn't enough space left for him to feel anything else.
Brendon squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep, shuddery breath. He looks like he's in pain now, and Spencer drops to his knees so that he's on the floor with Brendon.
"It's okay," he says. "We'll figure something out."
"Please?" Brendon says in a small voice, which is almost harder to listen to than when he was begging outright before. "I promise I'll make it good."
"Hey, I know," Spencer says. "It's not that."
Brendon stares at him. He looks wrecked.
"You said that you can't, that you can't get yourself off?" Spencer asks.
Brendon shakes his head.
"Why not?" Spencer asks.
"Doesn't work. Nothing happens."
"Has it always been like that?"
"Yeah," Brendon says.
"How do you-- how does it usually happen, then?"
"If the master says," Brendon explains. "Or maybe sometimes when he's fucking me."
"Okay, well, I'm saying," Spencer says, blushing furiously. "So you can just--" He starts to stand up, but Brendon grabs for him.
"You have to stay," Brendon says. "Please, you have to stay."
"Okay," Spencer says, settling back down. He sits cross-legged on the floor and once Brendon has convinced himself that Spencer isn't going to move away he lets go.
Brendon opens his pants. His dick is flushed purple and leaking already. He spits into his hand and starts to jerk himself off.
Spencer's face burns, and he thinks he can feel his heart pounding.
Brendon uses his other hand to push up his t-shirt, his palm resting on his bare belly. Aside from the wrapped up finger, he looks like something from porn. Looks like someone putting on a show, more than what Spencer imagines he'd look like if he were jerking himself off.
Brendon keeps saying, "Please, please," but Spencer isn't doing anything; he doesn't know what Brendon wants.
Brendon says, "Please," and Spencer says helplessly, "Okay."
Brendon whimpers, shakes his head. He says again, "Please."
Spencer bites his lip in frustration, thinking desperately. He tries, "I want you to--" and probably feels just about as relieved as Brendon is when Brendon finally throws his head back and comes all over himself.
"Do you feel better?" Spencer asks.
"A little," Brendon says, as he licks the come off of his hand.
--
Brendon's hard again within the hour, hovering close to Spencer, just barely managing to keep his hands to himself.
"What usually makes you feel better?" Spencer asks.
"The master fucks me, or I suck him off, or whatever he wants," Brendon says quickly. His voice is low and rough.
"So it's not about you getting off?" Spencer asks.
Brendon shakes his head.
Spencer closes his eyes. He thinks of what Ryan would say if he told him that people had put a chip in Brendon's head that releases some sort of aphrodisiac -- Spencer doesn't know if it's a drug or what, but that shit's not normal. So illegal.
"It's so that you'll want to please your--," Spencer says. "It's so that you'll want to please?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. "Yeah."
"That thing must be wired into your... fuck, I don't even know. All over your brain."
Brendon shrugs. Spencer knows because he can feel the movement. Brendon is close enough that Spencer can feel Brendon's breath hitting his neck. It's making it hard to think.
"So, if I tell you that I'd really like you to go sit on the chair--" Brendon moves before Spencer's even finished saying the last word. "Does that make it better or worse?"
"Better," Brendon says immediately.
"Brendon," Spencer says. "I really want you to feel better now, and to not do anything you don't want to do."
Brendon frowns and shakes his head. "I don't--"
"Okay," Spencer says. "It was worth a try."
--
--
--
It's easier for Brendon when he has physical contact, so they make it through dinner by pushing their chairs together and eating with their shoulders touching. Spencer's exhausted, and it doesn't seem like there's going to be any way for him to sleep in the near future.
"I'm really sorry," Brendon says softly, after they've finished eating. "I tried not to say anything. I know you don't like me."
"What?" Spencer says. "Why would you think that? Of course I like you."
"You don't want to--" Brendon says.
"That has nothing to do with liking you," Spencer says. "Except for the chip those fuckers put in your head, it's been awesome to have you on the ship."
"... Okay," Brendon says dubiously, his eyebrows wrinkled together.
Spencer wraps his arm around Brendon's shoulders, giving him a sideways squeeze. Brendon tucks his head into Spencer's neck and sits quietly.
--
--
--
"Is it getting bad again?" Spencer asks.
Brendon's been watching him work on the ship for the last couple hours. It was going okay for a while, but Brendon's been progressively squirmier as time goes on.
"I can wait," Brendon says, but his leg is jiggling up and down.
Spencer hurries to finish what he's doing.
He walks over and holds out his hand, pulling Brendon up off the floor. Brendon stands, his body brushing up against Spencer. He tilts his head, looking up at Spencer, and Spencer feels a wave of desire hit him low in the gut.
He takes a step backwards.
They walk to the bedroom and Spencer sits down on the edge of the bed. Brendon immediately climbs up beside him, and he looks so fucking hopeful and eager that Spencer almost feels guilty. Not as guilty as he would feel if he actually had sex with Brendon, though.
"I'd really like you to get yourself off," Spencer says. It seems to work best if he phrases things in a way that makes it seem like Brendon is doing something for him.
Brendon's face falls.
"I want to watch you," Spencer tries, feeling like an idiot.
Brendon nods, his mouth set in a tight line. He stands up and starts stripping off his clothes, slowly. Spencer watches him and tries to smile encouragingly.
Brendon stands naked a few feet away from the bed, his dick lifting up toward his stomach. He climbs back onto the bed, a little closer to Spencer this time than he was before, but still not touching him. Spencer knows he's trying.
"You want to--" he starts, leaning back against the wall and spreading his legs to make room for Brendon. When Brendon realizes what Spencer's offering he moves quickly, settling in between Spencer's thighs, his back to Spencer's chest.
"Thank you," Brendon says.
Spencer hums in response.
Brendon's dick is hard, and when Spencer says, "You should--" he starts jerking off. Spencer can feel the movement of it, Brendon's arm moving up and down.
Brendon holds his weight off of Spencer at first, but ends up sagging backwards. Spencer bends his neck to the side so that there's room for Brendon to rest his head against Spencer's collarbone.
Brendon keeps squirming around, but he stills when Spencer wraps his arm across Brendon's chest, holding loosely. Brendon sags back against him and exhales, long and shuddery.
Brendon's head is tipped to the side, and Spencer can see over his shoulder. He can mostly just make out the top of Brendon's hand; it comes into view on each upstroke. Brendon's legs are spread, his ankles hooked over Spencer's shins.
Brendon reaches for Spencer with his other hand, the injured one. He grabs onto Spencer's thigh, his three good fingers digging in. Spencer doesn't try to move him away. He just strokes his thumb slowly over a patch of bare skin and listens to the way that Brendon's breathing changes as he gets close.
"Come on," Spencer whispers into Brendon's ear, and Brendon's body starts trembling as he comes.
Brendon's breathing slows down after that, and even though Brendon's weight is heavy against his chest and making it a little difficult to breathe, Spencer finds himself starting to doze off. It's strange to be so close to Brendon, given that he's naked, given that he just jerked off and Spencer kind of watched. He feels vaguely turned on, but his dick isn't really hard, and even though his arm is getting sore from where he's holding it around Brendon's chest, Spencer still starts to doze off. It's been a long couple of weeks, and he's hardly been sleeping.
Somewhere in there, Brendon starts moving away. He does it so slowly and carefully that Spencer nearly doesn't notice.
"Sorry," Spencer mumbles, trying to blink himself awake. His hand is curled around Brendon's arm, and he reminds his fingers to let go.
Brendon freezes.
"s'kay," Spencer says, sleepily. He shifts down the bed, stretching out so that he's more lying on his back than sitting up.
Brendon is beside him on the bed now, and he can get up if he wants to.
"What's okay?" Brendon asks.
Spencer's too tired to guess at the tone of his voice.
He reaches sideways and pats at Brendon with clumsy fingers. "'s okay," he says again.
"Can I stay here?" Brendon asks, so quietly that Spencer almost doesn't hear him.
He hums, "Mh hm," and says, "'s only one bed, so we just have to," pausing to yawn before saying, "hm, yeah."
Brendon eases himself down on the bed.
"How do you feel?" Spencer asks.
"Better," Brendon says, in this breathy, relieved-sounding voice.
"I'm totally passing out here," Spencer says. "I just want to sleep."
"Yeah," Brendon says.
Spencer rolls over so that his back is to Brendon.
Brendon moves just as slowly and carefully, but this time his arm sneaks around Spencer's waist as he eases up behind Spencer. He's warm and Spencer is cold, and it's nice to have this kind of contact. This is nice, he likes this, he hopes that Brendon doesn't mind this because all he wants to do is stay like this and sleep.
He makes a little snuffling sound and Brendon presses his forehead to Spencer's back.
--
Spencer doesn't sleep soundly; he's used to sleeping alone, and each time he moves there's another body to be careful of. He's aware of Brendon in the back of his mind, and even though he doesn't sleep deeply, it feels so good to lie in bed, guilt-free for the first time in ages because Brendon's here with him. He can be in bed and it doesn't mean that Brendon's off elsewhere on the ship. Spencer sleeping doesn't mean that Brendon has to stay awake. If something goes wrong, Spencer will know, without having to listen carefully for sounds he might have otherwise missed.
He rolls over, and Brendon moves to accommodate him. Their faces are close together. Brendon has sleep crusting in the corner of his eye, and long black eyelashes.
"You okay?" Spencer asks.
"Yeah," Brendon says. "Thanks for letting me stay here."
"What?" Spencer asks, then cracks his jaw. "I mean, thanks for letting me stay. I'm pretty sure it's your turn to have the bed."
"I wasn't supposed to fall asleep," Brendon says. "After."
"Well, both of us need all the sleep we can get," Spencer says.
This time, Brendon rolls and Spencer follows after him, draping his arm around Brendon's waist.
--
Spencer wakes up with his nose tucked into the curve where Brendon's neck meets his shoulder. Brendon seems to be sound asleep, so Spencer climbs out of the bed quietly, making his way to the front of the ship.
"Are we making good time?" he asks Gabe.
"Pretty good," Gabe says. "We should be there in about ten hours."
"Awesome," Spencer says. He settles into the control seat and starts making preparations for their landing.
Brendon comes looking for him about an hour later. He's naked, still, his hair fluffing up all over his head. He's got a pillow crease pressed into his cheek.
"How are you feeling?" Spencer asks.
"Good," Brendon says. "Thanks."
"We're going to be landing today," Spencer says. "It won't be long before we find help."
"Do you really think they're going to be able to do anything?" Brendon asks.
"I don't know," Spencer says. "But they'll know more than I do, anyway. Hopefully."
"I bet you wish you didn't bring me back to the ship," Brendon says, the corners of his mouth turning up like it's a joke or something.
"No," Spencer says. "I don't wish that. Do you wish you hadn't come? It's been a bit of a disaster."
"Better than staying," Brendon says.
--
--
--
They land.
The coordinates Pete gave them seem to lead down a street with residential dwellings, but Spencer has to send Pete a message asking which one they're supposed to go to.
teh 1 w/ all the gargoyles, Pete messages back. go aroudn back and nock on the door.
The guy who answers the door only opens it a crack, squinting at them as if suspicious, or as if he's not used to seeing daylight.
"Mikey?" Spencer asks.
"J'st a sec," the guy says, closing the door again.
Spencer looks at Brendon and sighs.
The door opens again.
"Mikey?" Spencer asks.
"Yup," the guys says.
"Umm, we needed-- we were hoping that, because, ah." Spencer scratches the back of his neck. "We're having a bit of trouble, and Pete said you might be able to help."
"Pete?" Mikey repeats.
"He said to say that, umm, sweet little dudes?" Spencer says.
Mikey shakes his head. His face doesn't change expressions, but he makes a huffing sound. "Pete's such an asshole," Mikey says.
Spencer's eyes widen.
Mikey takes a step backward and starts walking away. Brendon and Spencer watch him head down the hall, and hurry to catch up when he calls, "Are you coming or what?"
--
"Well, that's not good," Mikey says after they've finished explaining things to him. "It's illegal all over the galaxy to fuck with someone's brain like that."
"No shit," Spencer says. "Do you have any suggestions on how to un-fuck it?"
Spencer sat beside Brendon while he jerked off again, just a couple of hours before they landed, but it didn't seem to take very well. Brendon is sitting close beside Spencer, and Spencer can feel the tension in his body. He's very quiet, but Spencer doesn't know if that's just because there's someone else around. He's pretty sure that Brendon was quiet when he first got on the ship, but lately he and Spencer have filled most of the hours with conversation.
"I'll need to check some stuff out," Mikey says, before he's cut off by a woman yelling, "Do your friends want something to drink?" from elsewhere in the house.
"We're busy, ma," Mikey shouts.
Spencer blinks. "Are we in your mother's basement?"
Mikey waves his hand. "I don't live here anymore. I was just hanging out with Gerard."
"Gerard is the guy who answered the door?" Spencer asks. "And if you don't live here, why is this where Pete sent us?"
"I spend a lot of time with my family," Mikey says.
--
Gerard comes out to sit with them while Mikey does whatever it is he has to do.
He keeps staring at Brendon, until finally Spencer snaps, "What?"
"I was listening at the door," Gerard says, sounding unapologetic. "I can't believe that someone would do that! It's so--"
"Illegal," Spencer finishes. "Yes, I think we're all quite aware of that."
"Horrible," Gerard says. "No one should ever be able to control someone else. You should always be able to be your own person. Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, watching Brendon with big, earnest eyes.
Brendon gives Spencer a panicked look.
"That's why we're here," Spencer says. "Maybe your brother can help us get the thing out."
"No one should ever get to control someone's brain," Gerard says.
Spencer nods, but before he can say anything, Brendon says, "No, they shouldn't."
--
Mikey pops in briefly to tell them that he's calling a few friends over who might be able to help.
Spencer says, "That's great, thanks."
Gerard and Brendon are sitting close together, talking, and they don't look up.
--
"Okay," Mikey says, sometime later. "You want to come with me? I think we've got something set up."
Something turns out to be a room, which has a sofa pushed to the side and a sheet laid out over the ground. There's a chair in the center of the room, and a bunch of machines and equipment, none of which Spencer recognizes at all.
There are three other guys standing around.
One of them steps forward, saying, "Hey, if you just sit here, we can do a couple of tests and see about getting that out."
The guy is wearing a blue cloth cap, which flattens only the very top of his hair. The rest of it rests in frizzy curls around his shoulders. He has a mask over his face.
Spencer does not think it is a good idea for these people to fuck with Brendon's head.
"Okay," he says, walking over to grab Brendon's arm. "Thanks for your help, but we have to be on our way."
"It's okay," Mikey says. "Ray's just going to use that," Mikey nods toward one of the machines, "to see how deep into his brain the thing is. It's totally safe. Frank and Bob are here in case anything goes wrong."
Spencer opens his mouth to protest, but Brendon starts walking forward, sitting down on the chair.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Spencer asks.
"Yeah," Brendon says, settling into the chair. "I'm sure."
Spencer walks over to the couch that has been pushed to the side of the room, and sits down as well.
--
"So," Ray says. They'd all left the room to discuss the results of the test. Spencer watches their faces carefully as they come back in, but he can't tell if he's about to hear good news or bad. "It's not a chip as much as... a whole lot of wires."
"A lot of wires?" Brendon asks.
"Like, really, a lot of wires," Frank says. "Probably it would not be a good idea for you to go outside in a lightning storm."
He giggles, and Bob reaches over and punches him in the shoulder.
"What?" Frank asks. "That's legitimate medical advice."
"What we're thinking is that we probably can't take it out."
Spencer feels sick to his stomach. He looks over at Brendon, but Brendon's face is totally blank. Brendon has been sitting on the couch beside Spencer as they waited for the guys to get back. Spencer can feel the way his body is shaking. He knows that it must be getting really bad for Brendon again. Brendon hasn't said anything though, has just been sitting quietly and trying to hold himself still. If there's nothing that can be done, Spencer wants to get him back to the ship as quickly as possible.
"Thanks for your time," Brendon says. His voice sounds calm, even though Spencer can see his hand clenched into a fist at his side.
"We can maybe get it to stop mucking your brain up, though," Mikey says.
"How?" Spencer asks.
"We think we figured out where the CPU is, and I think that if we sent a big enough jolt of electricity, we should be able to short circuit that motherfucker," Ray says.
"It's running on the electricity created by your neural activity," Bob says, "so we can't just cut off the power source, but we're pretty sure that this will stop it from working."
"Big enough jolt of electricity?" Spencer asks.
"We should be able to control it," Ray says. "We don't even need to cut into your head. We can just use a needle to conduct the flow."
Brendon looks over at Spencer. Spencer pulls the corners of his mouth back.
"Do you think it will work?" Brendon asks.
"I don't know," Ray says. "I think so, but to be totally honest it could also fry your brain a little."
"A little?" Spencer asks.
"We're pretty sure it won't kill him," Mikey says. "I was electrocuted once, and I'm totally fine."
"He took an electric heater into the shower," Frank says.
Spencer's eyes widen.
"It was a toaster oven," Mikey says. "Shut up."
"I have never been electrocuted," Ray says.
"That's just the way his hair looks," Frank agrees.
Brendon looks at Spencer again, then stands up, walking back over to the chair.
"Okay," he says.
Spencer stands as well, following him over. "Are you sure?" he asks.
"If it's not going to kill me then I want to try," Brendon says. "What if it starts hurting again? Or, I mean. Things haven't been too great lately, either."
Spencer wants to say, no, but it's Brendon's body and Brendon's choice, and so instead he nods sharply and walks back to the couch.
"All right," Ray says.
Frank and Bob hold up some machine, and Ray figures out where to put the needle in, and he's wearing gloves and a mask, but the thing is going into Brendon's head, and they're in someone's basement, and Spencer feels shaky and sick with worry. He doesn't say anything though, doesn't want to make Brendon more nervous.
He almost loses it when Ray slides the needle in and Brendon makes a soft noise of discomfort - Ray said it wouldn't hurt when they used the electricity, and so they didn't use an anaesthetic - but Brendon is quiet except for that, and Spencer manages to hold himself back.
"Here we go," Ray says. "If you start... I don't know, if you start seeing colors or if weird shit happens, say something and we'll stop. If I've got this where it should be, I don't think you should even feel anything."
Spencer crosses his arms, hugging himself. He holds his breath, feels his heart pounding. His head throbs, tension spiking up from the tops of his shoulders. He stares down at his knees, and he doesn't even know when Ray pushes the button or does whatever it is he does, but eventually Ray says, "Okay, that should do it."
Spencer flies to his feet, rushing over to Brendon's chair.
Brendon's blinking slowly, sweat running down the sides of his face.
"Are you okay?" Spencer asks. "Can you see me? Am I blue?"
Brendon's mouth twitches. He says, speaking slowly and carefully, "You're not blue."
"Are you okay?" Spencer asks.
"I think so," Brendon says.
Ray moves Spencer aside gently, shines a light in Brendon's eyes and asks him some questions.
Spencer's heart is fluttering. His hands are shaking and he thinks he should probably go sit down again, but he wants to stay as close to Brendon as possible.
Mikey gives him a small smile and says, "Seems like it worked."
Spencer takes a deep breath.
--
"Are you sure he's okay to fly?" Spencer asks again.
Mikey rolls his eyes, but Ray says, "I really do think it will be okay. All we did was turn it off. It might be kind of weird for him for a while. I think his brain will have to form some new pathways, given that whatever the fuck they put in there was guiding things for a while, but he's pretty young, and I think it'll be okay. Maybe if you can get him to a real hospital they can remove it, but, you know. Be careful. That shit's fucking illegal and you're going to have to answer a lot of questions."
"Thank you," Spencer says again. "Are you sure there's nothing I can--"
"It's cool," Mikey says. "You can just owe us one sometime. Oh, or better yet-- tell Pete he owes us one. That dude knows a lot of people, he can make things happen. You can owe Pete one and he can owe us one."
"Thank you," Brendon says.
He looks surprised when Mikey holds out his hand, but manages to copy the gesture. He smiles when Mikey shakes his hand, and grins when Gerard says, "So, seriously, you can call any time."
"Thanks, guys," Brendon says. "I owe you one too, for what that's worth."
Spencer and Brendon walk back to the ship. Spencer goes through the motions of preparing for takeoff, moving on autopilot.
Brendon helps out and at one point Spencer turns around and finds Brendon right there, both of them reaching for the same lever.
Spencer pulls back, making a high, startled noise. He opens his mouth to apologize and snorts out something like a laugh, and after that he can't stop. Brendon's eyes go wide.
"I'm a little hysterical," Spencer says, in between giggles. "I'm sorry."
"I'm the one who got electrocuted in my brain," Brendon says. "Shouldn't I be the hysterical one?"
But that just makes Spencer laugh harder. "I'm sorry," he gasps.
Brendon shakes his head. He reaches for Spencer with careful fingers and leads him into the eating area. Spencer sits on one chair and Brendon sits down beside him, resting his elbow on the table and his chin on his open palm.
"How're you feeling?" Spencer asks.
"I don't know," Brendon says. "Okay, I think. Not like I'm going to crawl out of my skin anymore, so that's nice."
"You want something to drink?" Spencer asks.
Brendon nods, so Spencer gets him and Brendon each a cup of the orange flavored shit that's supposed to pass for orange juice.
"You want to lie down for a bit?" Spencer asks, once Brendon's glass is empty.
"Yeah," Brendon says. He puts their glasses away as he walks out of the room.
After he's gone, Spencer almost wants to follow after him, to keep him within sight. He busies himself with maintaining the ship instead.
--
--
--
"Just a couple more days until we get back onto the planet," Spencer says. "It'll have been over three weeks since we left your planet by the time we get back."
"Feels like longer," Brendon says. He's sitting in the control chair, flipping through a number of data files that Spencer had Gabe bring up so that Brendon has some idea what the planet's going to be like, what he can expect.
Spencer is stretched out on the floor. He's got a reader beside him, but he's not really looking at anything.
Spencer yawns, and Brendon says, "It's your turn to have the bed," and then yawns himself.
"You're the one that got all jolted with electricity," Spencer says. "You get first dibs if you're tired."
"I'm all right," Brendon says.
Spencer raises one eyebrow.
"Just let me have like an hour," Brendon says. "And then it's all yours."
"Sleep for however long you want," Spencer assures him. Maybe he can have a little catnap in the control chair.
--
Spencer's walking past the sleeping area when Brendon pulls the curtain back.
"Oh, hey," Spencer says. "Are you done sleeping?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. He's wearing a pair of Spencer's pj bottoms, and no shirt. His torso isn't bruised anymore, but his nipples are still pierced.
Brendon holds the curtain back so that Spencer can walk into the room. He moves aside when Spencer enters, and then doesn't leave immediately.
Spencer walks over to the bed, grabbing one corner of the bedding and pulling it back. Brendon always makes the bed neatly immediately after getting up. When he turns around again, Brendon's still in the room, hanging back like he's waiting for something.
"What's up?" Spencer asks.
Brendon takes a deep breath and then walks over to Spencer. He bites his lip like he's trying to decide something, his eyes darting around the room, making only brief eye contact with Spencer.
He licks his lips, finally looking straight at Spencer. After a couple of false starts, Brendon says, "You can have me."
Spencer's mouth feels dry. "Have-- what do you mean?" he asks.
"Have me," Brendon repeats, looking pointedly at the bed. He starts fingering the waistband of the pants he's wearing, making like he's going to push them off.
"I don't know, don't know how to offer myself to you," Brendon says, glancing up nervously at Spencer and hesitating.
"Does that-- did it not work?" asks Spencer.
Brendon frowns for a moment before says, "Oh. No. No, it's not the thing in my brain." He looks sad, but continues, "I just thought. That we. I thought that we. Could. Now."
"Brendon," Spencer says, then stops, trying to think of what he should say. "You know how Ray said that you might need some time? To get things sorted out? Maybe this is part of what he means."
Brendon starts to protest and Spencer quickly says, "Maybe not! Maybe it's not. I'm just saying-- maybe you should take a little time, just so you'll know for sure."
"I don't need to do anything," Brendon says. "It's different. I know it's different. I just thought it would be--"
"Would be what?" Spencer asks.
"I think we should," Brendon says.
"Why?"
"You're nice," Brendon says. "I like you."
"There are a lot of nice people," Spencer says. "That's exactly what I'm saying. You've been stuck on a ship with me for a while now. We'll get back, and you'll see. Okay?"
"Yeah, sure," Brendon says.
He walks out of the room, and Spencer feels relieved and he feels like a total shithead.
--
It takes Spencer a while to drift off and then he sleeps longer than he means to. He still feels drowsy when he wakes up. He cleans up in the bathroom, and when he walks into the main part of the ship Brendon pokes his head out of the eating area and says, "I re-hydrated us dinner."
Spencer sits down at the table beside him. Brendon has laid out at least half a dozen different dishes.
"Did you have trouble deciding what to make?" Spencer asks.
He's just teasing, but Brendon frowns. "Is it okay? I thought that, since we're landing soon, and it seemed like there was still lots left, but."
"No, no, it's awesome," Spencer says. He reaches for the spoon, and starts dishing food onto his plate. "Thanks for this," he says. "I was starving."
Brendon smiles, waits until Spencer has started eating before he dishes food onto his own plate.
--
--
--
"Prepare for landing, motherfuckers," Gabe says.
--
--
--
Part Three