Bandom fic: Blink Back to Let Me Know
Characters: Brendon/Spencer (Ryan/Z)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 3500
Summary: As a bartender at the gay bar Greta's, Brendon is used to meeting all sorts of people. Even so, he was unprepared for Spencer.
It was the first Saturday of the month, which meant ABBA night at Greta's. Brendon hated ABBA nights.
This was worse than usual. Laena was still in Spain and Shane had called in sick at the last minute, so Brendon and Z were alone in the bar, at least until Tennessee could be got hold of. It was hectic and loud, and even if that kind of thing wasn't usually a big problem for him-he should probably have chosen another job than bartender, if that was the case-today he had a headache and there was a group of loud straight girls crowding the bar, shouting over one another and being generally annoying.
Tennessee finally showed up at eleven, complaining about being called away from her night in with Charlotte, and Brendon left Z soothing her ruffled feathers while he grabbed a tub and headed out to pick up empty glasses.
He was on his second round of the place when he noticed Pete Wentz waving at him and made his way over.
Pete was sitting at one of the tables in the slightly more intimate corner of Greta's with what looked like his newest protégé. He was one of their unofficial VIP:s. Not only was he an active patron himself, but he was an avid advocate of LGBT rights and also pimped out the club to everyone he came into contact with-and Pete Wentz came into contact with everyone.
That he was a noisy media whore with grabby hands was just one of those things you had to put up with.
“Brendon, Brendon,” he shouted, waving an empty glass at Brendon in a mildly accusatory manner. “Brendon, there is no way I could fight my way through that,” he nodded at the crowded bar, “and we need refills. Get us drinks?”
The idea of Pete Wentz ever having to get up and fetch drinks for himself was of course laughable, especially since he was sitting with a guy obviously hoping to get signed to Pete's label, but Brendon only smiled and nodded.
“Get that for you right away, Pete,” he said. “The usual?”
“You're a champion,” Pete said, nudging the man next to him. “Ryan, what do you want?”
Brendon looked at the man Pete was entertaining. He was thin-almost frighteningly so-with tattooed wrists and curling hair. He looked back boldly at Brendon, narrowing eye-linered eyes and smiling slowly. Brendon resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“I'll have a Vodka Martini,” he said. “Spence?”
Brendon almost started. He'd hardly registered the third man at the table. With his nondescript shirt and jeans and expression of quiet resignation beside Pete's and Ryan's loud outfits and animated conversation, he'd all but faded into the background.
“Another Newcastle,” he said, glancing up quickly at Brendon and brandishing his beer bottle.
“Be right back with that,” Brendon said, grinning at them and avoiding Ryan's persistent gaze.
“Pete Wentz is here with friends,” he muttered once he got back to the bar, and Z and Tennessee groaned in unison.
“Not the night for it,” Tennessee said. “We already have too much to do as it is.”
“Just live with it,” Brendon replied, pouring the drinks for Pete's party. “He takes priority, that's just how it is.”
Dancing Queen came on, for the third time. He took a deep breath, picked up the tray of drinks and stepped out from behind the bar with a big smile on his face.
The night was winding down. Knowing Me, Knowing You and Our Last Summer had succeeded Mamma Mia and Does Your Mother Know, and most of the clientèle were in the stage of finding a last-minute-partner for the night.
Brendon was cleaning up in the bar. Last call hadn't gone yet, but it was just as well to start preparing.
Someone cleared their throat.
“So do you work here all the time or what?”
Brendon looked up. Ryan was leaning against the bar, smiling at him. It looked like he'd touched up his eye-liner. Brendon smiled, too, resting his forearms against the bar and leaning forward.
“Look,” he said, “what are you doing?”
Ryan frowned, looking derailed.
“What?”
“Is it some bi-curious thing or something?” Brendon continued. “Because that's OK, whatever, you know, but I'm not going to participate in your experiment.”
Ryan's frown deepened. “I don't know why-”
“You've been staring at Z for the last hour,” Brendon interrupted. “I don't know if you want to fool yourself otherwise for some reason, but you're straight. Deal with it.”
Ryan stared at him, then sighed noisily and rolled his eyes. His stance changed, too, becoming more casual and less provocative. “That obvious?” he asked.
“Afraid so,” Brendon said, nodding. “Don't blame you though, she's gorgeous. And more or less straight, actually, so good for you.”
Ryan lit up. “Really?” He glanced at Z and Tennessee, who were swaying together to the music, cheek to cheek with their hands joined. “I thought-”
“Yeah, you're not the first one who's thought that, either.” Brendon grinned, intrigued. “So why were you pretending to hit on me? It's pretty obvious you're not interested.”
Ryan bit his lip. “Don't tell Wentz?” he said. “He's known for encouraging LGBT bands. I figured we might have a better chance to get signed if we-if I-”
He stopped, faltering. Brendon nodded, amused. It was a plan as impressive as it was mercenary.
“I'm not going to play along,” he said, dislodging a lemon wedge from the sink and tossing it in the garbage casually. “I might point and laugh when this blows up in your face, though.”
“Wow, thanks for that,” Ryan said, making a wry face. Brendon laughed.
“What does your band mate say about this?” he added. Ryan made another face, this one more resigned.
“He thinks I'm an idiot,” he said. “You two would get along.”
“I'm guessing he's straight, then.”
“Oh, yeah. Him and his girlfriend Haley are all but painting the picket fence.” Ryan snorted. “I have to do all the work...”
Brendon laughed again. “You have it rough,” he said, then gestured at the rows of bottles behind him. “So what can I get you? I'm sure you have to get back to your life of lies.”
“Aren't you supposed to listen to my troubles without judging and give sage advice?” Ryan asked. “Fine, another Vodka Martini and Pete said you know what he wants. Oh, and beer for Spencer. Fuck, I forgot the name.”
“Newcastle,” Brendon said. “I got it.” He got the other drinks ready, too, then took Ryan's credit card. As he handed it back along with a receipt for signing he added with a backwards glance, “It's usually pretty calm here on Wednesdays, and Z is working the next one. I mean. Just saying.” He tapped a finger against his lips speculatively. “Shane is probably going to be back at work by then, too, so if you want you could really convince Wentz by making out with-”
“Fucker,” Ryan said, rolling his eyes at him, but gave him a grin before he went back to his table.
Brendon watched his passage back and caught the eye of Ryan's band mate, Spencer. He grinned, but Spencer only glanced away quickly, blushing. Brendon laughed quietly. Ryan's plan to make the band appeal to Pete had a lot of flaws, but Brendon wondered if the biggest one wasn't the fact that his friend obviously found it extremely uncomfortable.
Oh, well. In any case, it would probably be a source of some amusement in the weeks to come.
Ryan promptly showed up on Wednesday, and to Brendon's surprise he had his friend Spencer in tow. Brendon had thought Spencer seemed much too awkward to agree to be Ryan's excuse for coming again, but apparently he'd been wrong about that.
He spotted the two of them as they sat down by the bar and was on his way over to take their order before he recognised them and did a quick one-eighty turn, picking up a broom and starting to sweep the floor instead. He thought Ryan had seen and understood what he was doing, because there was no call for service and they both waited patiently until Z entered the bar and, giving Brendon an odd look and a hiss about at least trying to keep an eye out for customers, went over to serve them. Brendon waited for a while longer and then turned slightly, peeking over his shoulder. Z was shaking her head, smiling at Ryan, who was watching her intensely.
Brendon smiled to himself. He wasn't sure why he'd decided to play matchmaker for Z, but he thought that there was something endearing about Ryan's earnestness.
He had not managed to remain entirely unnoticed, however. Spencer was watching him, Brendon realised, and he turned back around again, feigning intense interest in the price list for drinks.
With him and Z working efficiently and then Shane coming in for the slightly more busy hours, it was a calm night all around and they had time to chat with the customers-something Ryan made use of whenever he thought he could get away with it. Brendon, meanwhile, mainly hung out with Shane, although he did sneak glances at his new pet couple every now and again. They were really rather precious to look at.
He was watching them enthuse over cell phone photos from Z's trip around Europe when he became aware of Spencer, who'd moved away from them and seemed to be trying to attract his attention.
“What can I get you?” he asked, stepping up to the till and slipping quickly back into bartender-mode.
“Another beer, please.”
Spencer fidgeted with his credit card before handing it over. “Sorry about Ryan,” he said quickly, then cleared his throat. “If he-you know-if he led you on or anything.”
Brendon stared, not sure how to respond to that, but Spencer seemed to be entirely serious.
“No chance of that,” he said. “I noticed what he was up to pretty quickly.” Spencer seemed to relax with that, so he added, “Besides, he's really not my type.”
Spencer smiled. “So what is your type?” he asked.
“Someone who can afford to buy me one pony for every day in the week, of course,” Brendon said, grinning casually, because saying Someone a whole lot like you to a guy who seemed nervous about even being in a gay bar seemed just a little too cruel.
“Ryan might turn out to fit that type after all, then,” Spencer said, still smiling at him. “At least if all his hopes about this deal with Pete Wentz turn out to be true...”
Brendon laughed, and Spencer grinned with him.
“I should get back and chaperone those two,” he said then. “Thanks for the beer.”
“You're welcome,” Brendon said. “If you could try and make sure that they don't start making out over the bar that'd be appreciated. We have Health Department issues to consider.”
Ryan and Spencer became a bit of a fixture, after that. They came in most Wednesdays and occasionally on Friday or Saturday as well. Their evenings always followed the same course-they'd sit at the bar, order a drink each and chat for a while, and then Ryan would catch the attention of Z while Spencer slipped away to talk with Brendon for a bit. It was sweet of him, Brendon thought, removing himself to give his friend the chance to talk alone with Z. It was always just the two of them, however, and one evening about three weeks after the two of them had become such a regular feature at Greta's, Brendon asked Spencer about why he never brought his girlfriend along for these nights.
Spencer looked away from him, worrying the label of his beer with a fingernail. “Actually,” he said, “me and Haley split up a while ago.”
Brendon blinked at him. “But I talked to Ryan, and he said-”
“Yeah, but.” Spencer shrugged awkwardly. “I kind of haven't told him about that.” He looked up at Brendon's expression. “I-it's just not really been right, you know? And now it's weird because I should have said immediately, I guess, but there's been everything with the band and stuff...”
“So it's pretty recent?” Brendon asked. Spencer mumbled something. “What?”
“Two and a half months,” Spencer said.
“Are you kidding?” Brendon exclaimed, much louder than he'd thought. Both he and Spencer glanced at Z and Ryan, but they were busy talking about retro shops and didn't seem to have noticed.
“Dude, you need to tell him,” Brendon said, turning back to Spencer and lowering his voice again. “That's just going to get weirder and weirder, the longer you wait.”
Spencer glared at his beer. “I know that,” he said. “But it isn't just that simple.”
There seemed as if there was something more underneath that sentence, but before Brendon had time to ask him, Spencer was called away to support Ryan in something. Brendon looked after him and then shook his head, telling himself he must have imagined it.
It was Saturday, and Ryan and Spencer were having another meet with Pete Wentz. Since they'd misunderstood the time, however-Ryan said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly-they were there an hour early.
It was clear that Z believed this about as much as Brendon, but she didn't seem to mind the flimsy excuse.
“I can't believe he hasn't asked her out yet,” Brendon said, nodding towards where she and Ryan were laughing about something. Spencer caught him looking towards them and shrugged in gentle exasperation.
Tennessee hummed thoughtfully. “I think she's only just starting to accept that he and that bearded guy, what's-his-face, aren't a couple. She's just careful. She has to be, I guess, working here.”
They kept watching the tableau in silence for a while, and then Tennessee nudged him. “So how about you? Are you ever going to stop falling for straight guys?”
Brendon started away from her and stared. One look at her quiet smile was enough to convince him there was no use in denying anything, however.
“Shut up,” he muttered, and turned away to wipe down a counter.
He was met with the leering face of Pete Wentz, which was really rather more disturbing than any bartender should have to put up with.
“Whoa!” he exclaimed. “Sorry, Pete, didn't see you there.”
“Of course you didn't, I was eavesdropping,” Pete said. “My usual, thanks.”
“Sure.” Brendon jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Should I tell them you're here? They came early, so-”
Pete waved this away. “Wouldn't dream of it,” he said. “I'll be at my table. They'll come over when Ryan finally manages to tear his attention away from Z.”
Brendon hesitated, wondering if he'd actually just heard that. Judging by Pete's satisfied grin he thought that, yes, he had. “So, obviously,” he said, “you've known for a while that Ryan's not gay.”
“Obviously,” Pete said, snorting.
“So why haven't you put him out of his misery?”
Pete raised his eyebrows. “It's funny,” he said simply.
Brendon hid a smile. Pete could be nasty like that.
“Still,” Pete continued, “I don't know why he felt he had to convince me he was gay.”
Brendon let his smile show, this time. “You're known to have a soft spot for LGBT bands,” he said. “Guess he thought they'd have a better chance to be signed.”
“Oh, I know that,” Pete said dismissively. “But-” He stopped and stared hard at Brendon, who looked back in complete incomprehension. Pete could be so weird.
“What?” he said.
“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Pete said, but he was grinning. “No, I just thought of something. Oh, hey, drink.”
“Coming up right away, Pete,” Brendon said. He rolled his eyes as soon as he was sure his back was completely turned.
The Wednesday after that, Ryan and Spencer didn't show at all. They turned up that Friday, however-but now with someone new in their party.
She was dark-haired and green-eyed and extremely cute, with a gorgeous smile. Brendon hated her on sight.
I have to stop doing this, he thought. I work in a fucking gay bar. Just once, I'd like to be able to pick out someone not straight.
He left that end of the bar to Z and Shane, staying as far away as possible. It made him realise just how used he'd become to gravitating towards Ryan and Spencer whenever they were in, and he hated himself just a little. Talk about pathetic.
He was aware of Spencer watching him curiously. It was slowly driving him nuts.
“I'm taking my break,” he muttered to Laena, who made an annoyed sound but let him go.
Brendon stepped outside and leaned against the wall, breathing out slowly. The evening air was cold as fuck but refreshing, after the damp, noisy warmth of the club. He shut his eyes, trying to relax and ignoring the litany of stupidstupidstupid running through his head.
The door to Greta's opened and closed again, and he opened his eyes to see that Spencer had just stepped out. Brendon stifled a groan. Just his luck, to have the person he wanted to avoid follow him out.
Spencer looked around, caught his eye and came over.
“Hi,” he said, then produced a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and brandished them in a vaguely hopeful manner. “You wouldn't happen to have a light?” he asked.
Brendon shook his head. “Sorry, no. I don't smoke.”
“Ah.” Spencer looked embarrassed. “Actually, neither do I. These are Ryan's.” He shrugged. “I was just looking for an excuse to escape that for a while.” He nodded to the entrance. “I'm impressed that you stand it all week long.”
Brendon shrugged, not really having the energy to come up with a witty reply. “She seems fun,” he said instead. “Your friend.”
“Cassie?” Spencer said. “Yeah, she's great.”
“Not finding it weird that you go to a gay bar?” Brendon said. But of course she wouldn't, he added to himself bitterly. She was probably open-minded and lovely and perfect and whatever.
“Oh, no,” Spencer said, and he laughed. “She did find it funny that Ryan has found the love of his life in one, though. Especially since he seemed to think the whole love thing was kind of lame up until then.”
“So when did you meet?” Brendon asked. “You and Cassie?”
“What?” Spencer frowned. “Um. Three years ago? Something like that.”
Brendon nodded and smiled. Great. So she was one of those serious relationships that grew out of years of friendship. Brendon hadn't only fallen in love with a straight guy; he'd fallen in love with a straight steady-going serial monogamist. Fucking perfect.
“Oh,” Spencer said. “No, it's not-um. Wow. Like, when I say met, I mean I met her because she was Jon's date to this thing. Still is. I mean. His girlfriend.”
Brendon stared at him. Not only had Spencer just said something Brendon was only half sure made some kind of sense, but he was also looking more awkward than Brendon had ever seen him (which was kind of impressive, since Spencer had given off the impression of trying to disappear into his collar for the first couple of times he'd been at Greta's).
“What?” Brendon said.
“Cassie. She's our friend Jon's girlfriend. She'd never been here, so when she heard we were going she wanted to come along.” Spencer paused, considering. “Also, she I think she wanted to see Z.”
“Oh.” Brendon blushed. “Right, yeah, I thought-”
“Yeah, I guessed you-”
They stared at each other. Spencer was the first to look away, shrugging his chin further into his collar and grinning slightly.
“Look,” he said, “it's-well, Ryan and Z are probably going to start going out any moment, and I'm just going to look creepy if I keep coming here all by myself. So I guess I was wondering-would you like to meet some time? I mean. Outside of here.” He waved a hand at the Greta's sign. “Like, for a coffee? Or something. You don't have to. I was just wondering.”
Brendon gaped at him.
“But you like girls,” he managed.
Spencer gave him an odd look. “That's a bit of a snap judgement.”
“You were with your girlfriend Haley for three years!”
“So?” Spencer smiled at him, making something warm spread all through Brendon's body. Spencer really had the most gorgeous smile.
“What?” he said, aware that he'd just missed something.
Spencer laughed. “I said, it isn't always that simple,” he said.
And Brendon realised that just maybe, he'd been very blind for a very long time. “So you really-” he began and stopped, not sure how to finish.
Spencer leaned in, brushing their cheeks together as he put his mouth to Brendon's ear and said softly, “I didn't come here and buy your stupidly overpriced beer twice a week just to watch Ryan making eyes at Z.”
Not for the first time, Brendon reflected that he had to have the world's worst gaydar. For once, though, he didn't mind having his conclusion proven wrong.
“I could go for coffee, yeah,” he said, leaning into Spencer's touch briefly, then pulled back to kiss Spencer's bright, answering smile.
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 3500
Summary: As a bartender at the gay bar Greta's, Brendon is used to meeting all sorts of people. Even so, he was unprepared for Spencer.
It was the first Saturday of the month, which meant ABBA night at Greta's. Brendon hated ABBA nights.
This was worse than usual. Laena was still in Spain and Shane had called in sick at the last minute, so Brendon and Z were alone in the bar, at least until Tennessee could be got hold of. It was hectic and loud, and even if that kind of thing wasn't usually a big problem for him-he should probably have chosen another job than bartender, if that was the case-today he had a headache and there was a group of loud straight girls crowding the bar, shouting over one another and being generally annoying.
Tennessee finally showed up at eleven, complaining about being called away from her night in with Charlotte, and Brendon left Z soothing her ruffled feathers while he grabbed a tub and headed out to pick up empty glasses.
He was on his second round of the place when he noticed Pete Wentz waving at him and made his way over.
Pete was sitting at one of the tables in the slightly more intimate corner of Greta's with what looked like his newest protégé. He was one of their unofficial VIP:s. Not only was he an active patron himself, but he was an avid advocate of LGBT rights and also pimped out the club to everyone he came into contact with-and Pete Wentz came into contact with everyone.
That he was a noisy media whore with grabby hands was just one of those things you had to put up with.
“Brendon, Brendon,” he shouted, waving an empty glass at Brendon in a mildly accusatory manner. “Brendon, there is no way I could fight my way through that,” he nodded at the crowded bar, “and we need refills. Get us drinks?”
The idea of Pete Wentz ever having to get up and fetch drinks for himself was of course laughable, especially since he was sitting with a guy obviously hoping to get signed to Pete's label, but Brendon only smiled and nodded.
“Get that for you right away, Pete,” he said. “The usual?”
“You're a champion,” Pete said, nudging the man next to him. “Ryan, what do you want?”
Brendon looked at the man Pete was entertaining. He was thin-almost frighteningly so-with tattooed wrists and curling hair. He looked back boldly at Brendon, narrowing eye-linered eyes and smiling slowly. Brendon resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“I'll have a Vodka Martini,” he said. “Spence?”
Brendon almost started. He'd hardly registered the third man at the table. With his nondescript shirt and jeans and expression of quiet resignation beside Pete's and Ryan's loud outfits and animated conversation, he'd all but faded into the background.
“Another Newcastle,” he said, glancing up quickly at Brendon and brandishing his beer bottle.
“Be right back with that,” Brendon said, grinning at them and avoiding Ryan's persistent gaze.
“Pete Wentz is here with friends,” he muttered once he got back to the bar, and Z and Tennessee groaned in unison.
“Not the night for it,” Tennessee said. “We already have too much to do as it is.”
“Just live with it,” Brendon replied, pouring the drinks for Pete's party. “He takes priority, that's just how it is.”
Dancing Queen came on, for the third time. He took a deep breath, picked up the tray of drinks and stepped out from behind the bar with a big smile on his face.
The night was winding down. Knowing Me, Knowing You and Our Last Summer had succeeded Mamma Mia and Does Your Mother Know, and most of the clientèle were in the stage of finding a last-minute-partner for the night.
Brendon was cleaning up in the bar. Last call hadn't gone yet, but it was just as well to start preparing.
Someone cleared their throat.
“So do you work here all the time or what?”
Brendon looked up. Ryan was leaning against the bar, smiling at him. It looked like he'd touched up his eye-liner. Brendon smiled, too, resting his forearms against the bar and leaning forward.
“Look,” he said, “what are you doing?”
Ryan frowned, looking derailed.
“What?”
“Is it some bi-curious thing or something?” Brendon continued. “Because that's OK, whatever, you know, but I'm not going to participate in your experiment.”
Ryan's frown deepened. “I don't know why-”
“You've been staring at Z for the last hour,” Brendon interrupted. “I don't know if you want to fool yourself otherwise for some reason, but you're straight. Deal with it.”
Ryan stared at him, then sighed noisily and rolled his eyes. His stance changed, too, becoming more casual and less provocative. “That obvious?” he asked.
“Afraid so,” Brendon said, nodding. “Don't blame you though, she's gorgeous. And more or less straight, actually, so good for you.”
Ryan lit up. “Really?” He glanced at Z and Tennessee, who were swaying together to the music, cheek to cheek with their hands joined. “I thought-”
“Yeah, you're not the first one who's thought that, either.” Brendon grinned, intrigued. “So why were you pretending to hit on me? It's pretty obvious you're not interested.”
Ryan bit his lip. “Don't tell Wentz?” he said. “He's known for encouraging LGBT bands. I figured we might have a better chance to get signed if we-if I-”
He stopped, faltering. Brendon nodded, amused. It was a plan as impressive as it was mercenary.
“I'm not going to play along,” he said, dislodging a lemon wedge from the sink and tossing it in the garbage casually. “I might point and laugh when this blows up in your face, though.”
“Wow, thanks for that,” Ryan said, making a wry face. Brendon laughed.
“What does your band mate say about this?” he added. Ryan made another face, this one more resigned.
“He thinks I'm an idiot,” he said. “You two would get along.”
“I'm guessing he's straight, then.”
“Oh, yeah. Him and his girlfriend Haley are all but painting the picket fence.” Ryan snorted. “I have to do all the work...”
Brendon laughed again. “You have it rough,” he said, then gestured at the rows of bottles behind him. “So what can I get you? I'm sure you have to get back to your life of lies.”
“Aren't you supposed to listen to my troubles without judging and give sage advice?” Ryan asked. “Fine, another Vodka Martini and Pete said you know what he wants. Oh, and beer for Spencer. Fuck, I forgot the name.”
“Newcastle,” Brendon said. “I got it.” He got the other drinks ready, too, then took Ryan's credit card. As he handed it back along with a receipt for signing he added with a backwards glance, “It's usually pretty calm here on Wednesdays, and Z is working the next one. I mean. Just saying.” He tapped a finger against his lips speculatively. “Shane is probably going to be back at work by then, too, so if you want you could really convince Wentz by making out with-”
“Fucker,” Ryan said, rolling his eyes at him, but gave him a grin before he went back to his table.
Brendon watched his passage back and caught the eye of Ryan's band mate, Spencer. He grinned, but Spencer only glanced away quickly, blushing. Brendon laughed quietly. Ryan's plan to make the band appeal to Pete had a lot of flaws, but Brendon wondered if the biggest one wasn't the fact that his friend obviously found it extremely uncomfortable.
Oh, well. In any case, it would probably be a source of some amusement in the weeks to come.
Ryan promptly showed up on Wednesday, and to Brendon's surprise he had his friend Spencer in tow. Brendon had thought Spencer seemed much too awkward to agree to be Ryan's excuse for coming again, but apparently he'd been wrong about that.
He spotted the two of them as they sat down by the bar and was on his way over to take their order before he recognised them and did a quick one-eighty turn, picking up a broom and starting to sweep the floor instead. He thought Ryan had seen and understood what he was doing, because there was no call for service and they both waited patiently until Z entered the bar and, giving Brendon an odd look and a hiss about at least trying to keep an eye out for customers, went over to serve them. Brendon waited for a while longer and then turned slightly, peeking over his shoulder. Z was shaking her head, smiling at Ryan, who was watching her intensely.
Brendon smiled to himself. He wasn't sure why he'd decided to play matchmaker for Z, but he thought that there was something endearing about Ryan's earnestness.
He had not managed to remain entirely unnoticed, however. Spencer was watching him, Brendon realised, and he turned back around again, feigning intense interest in the price list for drinks.
With him and Z working efficiently and then Shane coming in for the slightly more busy hours, it was a calm night all around and they had time to chat with the customers-something Ryan made use of whenever he thought he could get away with it. Brendon, meanwhile, mainly hung out with Shane, although he did sneak glances at his new pet couple every now and again. They were really rather precious to look at.
He was watching them enthuse over cell phone photos from Z's trip around Europe when he became aware of Spencer, who'd moved away from them and seemed to be trying to attract his attention.
“What can I get you?” he asked, stepping up to the till and slipping quickly back into bartender-mode.
“Another beer, please.”
Spencer fidgeted with his credit card before handing it over. “Sorry about Ryan,” he said quickly, then cleared his throat. “If he-you know-if he led you on or anything.”
Brendon stared, not sure how to respond to that, but Spencer seemed to be entirely serious.
“No chance of that,” he said. “I noticed what he was up to pretty quickly.” Spencer seemed to relax with that, so he added, “Besides, he's really not my type.”
Spencer smiled. “So what is your type?” he asked.
“Someone who can afford to buy me one pony for every day in the week, of course,” Brendon said, grinning casually, because saying Someone a whole lot like you to a guy who seemed nervous about even being in a gay bar seemed just a little too cruel.
“Ryan might turn out to fit that type after all, then,” Spencer said, still smiling at him. “At least if all his hopes about this deal with Pete Wentz turn out to be true...”
Brendon laughed, and Spencer grinned with him.
“I should get back and chaperone those two,” he said then. “Thanks for the beer.”
“You're welcome,” Brendon said. “If you could try and make sure that they don't start making out over the bar that'd be appreciated. We have Health Department issues to consider.”
Ryan and Spencer became a bit of a fixture, after that. They came in most Wednesdays and occasionally on Friday or Saturday as well. Their evenings always followed the same course-they'd sit at the bar, order a drink each and chat for a while, and then Ryan would catch the attention of Z while Spencer slipped away to talk with Brendon for a bit. It was sweet of him, Brendon thought, removing himself to give his friend the chance to talk alone with Z. It was always just the two of them, however, and one evening about three weeks after the two of them had become such a regular feature at Greta's, Brendon asked Spencer about why he never brought his girlfriend along for these nights.
Spencer looked away from him, worrying the label of his beer with a fingernail. “Actually,” he said, “me and Haley split up a while ago.”
Brendon blinked at him. “But I talked to Ryan, and he said-”
“Yeah, but.” Spencer shrugged awkwardly. “I kind of haven't told him about that.” He looked up at Brendon's expression. “I-it's just not really been right, you know? And now it's weird because I should have said immediately, I guess, but there's been everything with the band and stuff...”
“So it's pretty recent?” Brendon asked. Spencer mumbled something. “What?”
“Two and a half months,” Spencer said.
“Are you kidding?” Brendon exclaimed, much louder than he'd thought. Both he and Spencer glanced at Z and Ryan, but they were busy talking about retro shops and didn't seem to have noticed.
“Dude, you need to tell him,” Brendon said, turning back to Spencer and lowering his voice again. “That's just going to get weirder and weirder, the longer you wait.”
Spencer glared at his beer. “I know that,” he said. “But it isn't just that simple.”
There seemed as if there was something more underneath that sentence, but before Brendon had time to ask him, Spencer was called away to support Ryan in something. Brendon looked after him and then shook his head, telling himself he must have imagined it.
It was Saturday, and Ryan and Spencer were having another meet with Pete Wentz. Since they'd misunderstood the time, however-Ryan said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly-they were there an hour early.
It was clear that Z believed this about as much as Brendon, but she didn't seem to mind the flimsy excuse.
“I can't believe he hasn't asked her out yet,” Brendon said, nodding towards where she and Ryan were laughing about something. Spencer caught him looking towards them and shrugged in gentle exasperation.
Tennessee hummed thoughtfully. “I think she's only just starting to accept that he and that bearded guy, what's-his-face, aren't a couple. She's just careful. She has to be, I guess, working here.”
They kept watching the tableau in silence for a while, and then Tennessee nudged him. “So how about you? Are you ever going to stop falling for straight guys?”
Brendon started away from her and stared. One look at her quiet smile was enough to convince him there was no use in denying anything, however.
“Shut up,” he muttered, and turned away to wipe down a counter.
He was met with the leering face of Pete Wentz, which was really rather more disturbing than any bartender should have to put up with.
“Whoa!” he exclaimed. “Sorry, Pete, didn't see you there.”
“Of course you didn't, I was eavesdropping,” Pete said. “My usual, thanks.”
“Sure.” Brendon jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Should I tell them you're here? They came early, so-”
Pete waved this away. “Wouldn't dream of it,” he said. “I'll be at my table. They'll come over when Ryan finally manages to tear his attention away from Z.”
Brendon hesitated, wondering if he'd actually just heard that. Judging by Pete's satisfied grin he thought that, yes, he had. “So, obviously,” he said, “you've known for a while that Ryan's not gay.”
“Obviously,” Pete said, snorting.
“So why haven't you put him out of his misery?”
Pete raised his eyebrows. “It's funny,” he said simply.
Brendon hid a smile. Pete could be nasty like that.
“Still,” Pete continued, “I don't know why he felt he had to convince me he was gay.”
Brendon let his smile show, this time. “You're known to have a soft spot for LGBT bands,” he said. “Guess he thought they'd have a better chance to be signed.”
“Oh, I know that,” Pete said dismissively. “But-” He stopped and stared hard at Brendon, who looked back in complete incomprehension. Pete could be so weird.
“What?” he said.
“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Pete said, but he was grinning. “No, I just thought of something. Oh, hey, drink.”
“Coming up right away, Pete,” Brendon said. He rolled his eyes as soon as he was sure his back was completely turned.
The Wednesday after that, Ryan and Spencer didn't show at all. They turned up that Friday, however-but now with someone new in their party.
She was dark-haired and green-eyed and extremely cute, with a gorgeous smile. Brendon hated her on sight.
I have to stop doing this, he thought. I work in a fucking gay bar. Just once, I'd like to be able to pick out someone not straight.
He left that end of the bar to Z and Shane, staying as far away as possible. It made him realise just how used he'd become to gravitating towards Ryan and Spencer whenever they were in, and he hated himself just a little. Talk about pathetic.
He was aware of Spencer watching him curiously. It was slowly driving him nuts.
“I'm taking my break,” he muttered to Laena, who made an annoyed sound but let him go.
Brendon stepped outside and leaned against the wall, breathing out slowly. The evening air was cold as fuck but refreshing, after the damp, noisy warmth of the club. He shut his eyes, trying to relax and ignoring the litany of stupidstupidstupid running through his head.
The door to Greta's opened and closed again, and he opened his eyes to see that Spencer had just stepped out. Brendon stifled a groan. Just his luck, to have the person he wanted to avoid follow him out.
Spencer looked around, caught his eye and came over.
“Hi,” he said, then produced a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and brandished them in a vaguely hopeful manner. “You wouldn't happen to have a light?” he asked.
Brendon shook his head. “Sorry, no. I don't smoke.”
“Ah.” Spencer looked embarrassed. “Actually, neither do I. These are Ryan's.” He shrugged. “I was just looking for an excuse to escape that for a while.” He nodded to the entrance. “I'm impressed that you stand it all week long.”
Brendon shrugged, not really having the energy to come up with a witty reply. “She seems fun,” he said instead. “Your friend.”
“Cassie?” Spencer said. “Yeah, she's great.”
“Not finding it weird that you go to a gay bar?” Brendon said. But of course she wouldn't, he added to himself bitterly. She was probably open-minded and lovely and perfect and whatever.
“Oh, no,” Spencer said, and he laughed. “She did find it funny that Ryan has found the love of his life in one, though. Especially since he seemed to think the whole love thing was kind of lame up until then.”
“So when did you meet?” Brendon asked. “You and Cassie?”
“What?” Spencer frowned. “Um. Three years ago? Something like that.”
Brendon nodded and smiled. Great. So she was one of those serious relationships that grew out of years of friendship. Brendon hadn't only fallen in love with a straight guy; he'd fallen in love with a straight steady-going serial monogamist. Fucking perfect.
“Oh,” Spencer said. “No, it's not-um. Wow. Like, when I say met, I mean I met her because she was Jon's date to this thing. Still is. I mean. His girlfriend.”
Brendon stared at him. Not only had Spencer just said something Brendon was only half sure made some kind of sense, but he was also looking more awkward than Brendon had ever seen him (which was kind of impressive, since Spencer had given off the impression of trying to disappear into his collar for the first couple of times he'd been at Greta's).
“What?” Brendon said.
“Cassie. She's our friend Jon's girlfriend. She'd never been here, so when she heard we were going she wanted to come along.” Spencer paused, considering. “Also, she I think she wanted to see Z.”
“Oh.” Brendon blushed. “Right, yeah, I thought-”
“Yeah, I guessed you-”
They stared at each other. Spencer was the first to look away, shrugging his chin further into his collar and grinning slightly.
“Look,” he said, “it's-well, Ryan and Z are probably going to start going out any moment, and I'm just going to look creepy if I keep coming here all by myself. So I guess I was wondering-would you like to meet some time? I mean. Outside of here.” He waved a hand at the Greta's sign. “Like, for a coffee? Or something. You don't have to. I was just wondering.”
Brendon gaped at him.
“But you like girls,” he managed.
Spencer gave him an odd look. “That's a bit of a snap judgement.”
“You were with your girlfriend Haley for three years!”
“So?” Spencer smiled at him, making something warm spread all through Brendon's body. Spencer really had the most gorgeous smile.
“What?” he said, aware that he'd just missed something.
Spencer laughed. “I said, it isn't always that simple,” he said.
And Brendon realised that just maybe, he'd been very blind for a very long time. “So you really-” he began and stopped, not sure how to finish.
Spencer leaned in, brushing their cheeks together as he put his mouth to Brendon's ear and said softly, “I didn't come here and buy your stupidly overpriced beer twice a week just to watch Ryan making eyes at Z.”
Not for the first time, Brendon reflected that he had to have the world's worst gaydar. For once, though, he didn't mind having his conclusion proven wrong.
“I could go for coffee, yeah,” he said, leaning into Spencer's touch briefly, then pulled back to kiss Spencer's bright, answering smile.