Fic: read me like no one else (we'll make them so jealous) (1/2)
Title: read me like no one else (we'll make them so jealous)
Fandom: bandslash/His Dark Materials crossover
Rating: R
Pairings: Jon/Spencer, Ryan/Brendon, Pete/Patrick
Word Count: 8200
Disclaimer: Didn't happen, and I am not Phillip Pullman.
Summary: Um, Daemons! at the Disco! Or something. In other words, an AU set within the general timeframe of Panic's Nothing Rhymes With Circus tour.
Notes: at the end <3
Also, a quick Daemon Primer for those of you unfamiliar with HDM. :)
Spin: So how have your daemons reacted to all this sudden fame?
Brendon Urie: We're all taking it really well, so I think they're fine. Anyway, isn't it bad press to say a band's daemons are suffering?
Spin: Good point.
Jon Walker: They don't have their own bunks or anything on the bus, if that's what you mean.
Ryan Ross: I heard that John Lennon once said his daemon loved the stage more than he did. I don't know if that's true or not, but they do keep you going. Grounded, I guess. It's probably safe to say the success of your band depends on how your daemons take to the show, the atmosphere and the feeling of performing.
Spin: And your daemons have taken it in stride, then?
Spencer Smith: We wouldn't be talking to you right now if they hadn't.
On the day Spencer turned thirteen, Chaz settled into the shape of a jaguar. He'd been in awe, stroking his hands down her shiny black fur and marveling at how tall she stood, how big and powerful her body was in comparison to his own. Ryan remembers the day well.
"She's so beautiful," Spencer had said quietly to Ryan, who secretly believed Spencer's daemon would be a dog of some sort, or some other smallish animal, like his own. As children, they'd grown up with Chaz and Salara changing in and out of shapes--dogs, birds, lions, every animal imaginable--but always staying equal. When Salara settled into her chosen Chinchilla shape, Ryan had been slightly disappointed. She wasn't elegant or fast or intimidating; instead, Salara was small, quiet, smart.
Ryan was sick with envy for weeks after Chaz settled, but he never let Spencer know. Eventually he consoled himself with the fact that Salara could curl up in his pocket at school and sleep fitted into the curve of his neck at night. He loved Salara dearly, and in the end, her shape didn't matter.
Then came the day Ryan met Brendon and his Corgi daemon, Ani, who was small and happy and friendly to the point of being almost painful, and Ryan realized at that moment that Ani was everything Chaz was not. Chaz hardly ever touched Salara, but Ani was always demonstrative toward her, always in her space. Ani tried do to the same to Chaz, who batted her away with a bored look, making Spencer laugh.
Brendon had pouted, just a little, and Spencer had replied, "Look, she's not like that, okay? It's nothing personal, we just like our space."
"Salara doesn't mind," Brendon said, and that, for some inexplicable reason, had made Ryan blush.
*
In the beginning when they were all getting their bearings and actually learning how to be this thing called a band, Spencer would focus on Telsy, Brent's Golden Retriever, who usually sat off to the side of the stage during their concerts and thumped her tail in time with the music. She was a constant, and she'd smile at Spencer sometimes when their sound was good or the crowd was particularly loud at the end of a set.
It was different than the feel of Chaz stretched out behind him and his kit, body regal and protective and watchful; Telsy's smiles told him they were going to make it. The lights would go down, and Brent would turn around, grinning, sweat pouring down his face, and say, "Awesome, man," and Spencer knew he wasn't lying, knew it from the way Telsy nodded at Brent as she butted her head up against Brent's side.
At one point, Spencer was fairly certain (though he'll never, ever tell Ryan) he wouldn't be able to play without Telsy in his peripheral vision.
But Telsy stopped smiling. She stopped looking at Spencer during performances altogether, and soon Brent was tucking his bass away before the roar of the crowd had died, Telsy close to his side, their backs to Spencer and the rest of them.
When Ryan tells Spencer to make the call to Brent (the final call), it takes a good three hours for Chaz to talk him into it, to soothe the tremor in his hand and the catch in his voice. "It was his choice," she whispers, and Spencer has to close his eyes while he dials the number.
A few weeks later, they rehearse for the first time with Jon. Spencer makes it through three songs, staring straight ahead, but then he glances over and sees Rosa, Jon's Irish Setter daemon, panting happily beside Jon, her tail waving in time with the chorus of "But It's Better If You Do". She catches Spencer's gaze and smiles brightly at him, her tongue soft and pink.
A sick taste fills his mouth suddenly. He finishes the song and leaves the room with Chaz tight on his heels, ignoring Ryan's protests. He doesn't play again for the rest of the day.
Jon comes into the hotel room later that night, hands shoved in his pockets. He stands at the edge the bed, where Spencer is curled up watching television with Chaz.
"You wanna say something to me?" he asks. Rosey rests her nose on the mattress, a few inches from Chaz's tail. Chaz narrows her eyes and curls her tail inward, closer to her body.
"No." And he doesn't intend the word to sound hateful, but. He doesn't know what else to say. There's nothing to say. They never thought this would be an instant fix, presto-chango. Jon's amazing, sure, but it's different. So different. Spencer just doesn't have the fucking words to say any of it. He remembers looking at Jon over the past several months, in secret, and thinking about the what ifs: what if he were one of them? What if he left his gig with the Academy and joined them? He's pictured it in so many ways, more than he'll ever admit, but he's never pictured Jon in Brent's place.
Jon bites his lip and nods. "Okay. But you'd tell me if you were upset with me, right?"
He finally looks away from the TV, meets Jon's gaze. "Yeah," Spencer replies, and he means it. He hears Rosey make a faint snuffling noise; she's looking up at Jon, her brown eyes wide, and Jon nudges his fingers behind her ears.
"Because this?" Jon doesn't motion to anything, doesn't need to. "I want this. I want to be a part of it. But I don't want it if you--if it's not--" Rosey's shivering a little, and it makes Spencer want to reach out and smooth his hand over her muzzle.
Spencer shakes his head, sits up. "No, yeah, it's fine. Just...ignore me, okay? I'm a fucking bitch sometimes, you should know that by now, or at least Brendon's told you a couple dozen times." He forces a smile, and it's easier than he initially thought it would be. Chaz, who's barely moved a muscle, relaxes against him, sighing as she shuts her eyes and pretends to sleep.
Jon laughs, and his eyes look relieved. "I think it was Pete, actually. Brendon thinks you're, like, a rockstar. A sparkly rockstar." His cheeks are a touch pink around the edges, but Rosey is panting and leaning against Jon's hip. They both smile at Spencer, together, and for a second, Spencer's heart tugs.
Chaz sighs again and presses closer to Spencer's side.
*
Ryan loves watching other daemons. He makes notes in his head of their mannerisms, their various ticks and how much they mirror their people. Spencer once joked that Ryan loved watching daemons more than humans, and while Ryan had laughed, he's always thought there was some truth to that.
Daemons can strip a person bare. But Ryan tries not to think too deeply on that very often, because it's both terrifying and fascinating and sometimes keeps him up too late at night.
He watches Ani constantly, but he doesn't realize he watches her as much as he does, not completely, until the day they're sitting in rehearsal, prepping for the new tour (their first headlining tour), and Brendon's full of unreleased energy and motion. Ani jumps into the air, each leap punctuated with sharp barks, and Brendon grabs her, spins her around until she wiggles free and starts all over.
Ryan smiles and shakes his head, but then he looks over and sees Salara sitting on an amp, sighing wistfully, her nose resting on her paws as she watches Ani run circles around Brendon's ankles.
At that point, Ryan sort of gets it. It still doesn't mean he has to think about it. Ani has never been shy about Salara's space, just as Brendon's never been shy about--well, anyone's space. It's fitting that his daemon would be the same. Ryan has assumed since the beginning that Salara is just more tolerant than other daemons, and it has nothing to do with--with--
He startles a bit when Ani skids across the floor of the rehearsal room and barks happily in Salara's face, her paws up on the amp, bracketing Salara's small, round body. Salara glances over at Ryan, and he swears he catches a smile.
"Earth to Ross." Brendon's suddenly pressed up against his arm, smiling, breath hot against Ryan's cheek. "Can you stop daydreaming? Or at least daydream about me? Please?" He nuzzles the sharp line of Ryan's jaw, and Ryan laughs, a little too breathlessly.
"It's always about you," he replies, raising an eyebrow. He ignores the flush in his cheeks, but it's impossible for him to ignore the way Salara shivers when Ani noses at her ears.
"Dude, of course! Lead singer, top billing! My name in lights!" Brendon throws his arms up dramatically and turns to blow kisses at an invisible crowd.
"Can I throw this at him?" Spencer asks as he holds one of his sticks up, javelin-style. Chaz is sprawled behind his kit, looking bored, her right ear flicking slightly every time Ani barks. Rosey sits calmly in front of Jon and his mic stand, watching Chaz.
Ryan sighs and fakes exasperation. "No. At least wait a few shows so Pete doesn't kill us all."
Jon nods. "Good plan."
Brendon collapses in a heap, bemoaning the unfairness of his band's hatred, and Ryan tries to look put out, he truly does. But Jon's laughing and Spencer chucks his stick at Brendon's head, anyway, which makes Ani bark at Spencer (both of Chaz's ears twitch), and Salara crawls down from the amp and over to Ryan, who picks her up and settles her on his shoulder. Her fur is warm, too warm. Like a blush.
When Brendon looks up at him from the floor, upside down, his arms full of Corgi daemon, and grins, Ryan laughs in spite of himself.
*
Jon and Spencer's daemons have a careful tension between them; Rosey will duck her head occasionally when Chaz catches her gaze, and Chaz sometimes goes to great lengths to keep a tiny sliver of space between them on the bus or during an interview. They respect each other, but neither has the comfort and ease around one another like Salara and Ani. Not that Spencer ever notices.
The awkwardness and frustration from those first few weeks of Jon being officially one of them gradually start to fade, and while their daemons echo the uncertainty still hanging in the air between them, Spencer lets himself relax. He knows things are better now, they're better now, the band as a whole, and that, he thinks, is what matters most.
Rosey still smiles at him every once in awhile during sound checks and rehearsals, and slowly, Spencer learns to smile back.
During a show in St. Louis, Jon looks over his shoulder at Spencer, looking happy and a little smug, like he sometimes does when the flow of the music is going especially well. But his eyes flare a little and he's suddenly laughing, almost shyly, his sweat-damp hair falling into his eyes as he looks away quickly, lower lip caught between his teeth.
Spencer's too caught up in the music to really think about it, and it's not until the lights go down and they're back in the dressing rooms and he can finally breathe again that he looks at Chaz and asks, "Earlier, when Jon--did you--?"
Chaz is panting (all their daemons sort of collapse in a heap after every show while everyone changes and showers), and her eyes flash green. She smiles, and it's a little sheepish. "He was really on tonight. I--I was keeping his beat." She flicks her tail against the couch in double time, and Spencer blushes, hard.
"I love the way Chaz's eyes match the lights of your kit," Jon says to him later as they're climbing back onto the bus. "We didn't even plan it that way, but it's so fucking cool."
"Of course she matches, she's my daemon, isn't she?" The snark sounds natural in Spencer's voice, even as he waits for Jon to say more, mention the fact that Chaz spent the entire show watching him. But Jon just laughs and shoves at Spencer's shoulder, not saying another word.
Spencer stays up late watching South Park reruns with Ryan as they drive through Missouri and onto some barren highway in Kansas. Ryan's asleep, curled up against Spencer's shoulder, and Spencer is just about to pass out himself (the TV is down low and the hum of the road is soothing) when Jon comes trudging into the lounge. He walks slow and loose, like the bones have melted from his body, and Rosey is panting at his side, her eyes at half mast.
"You guys're still up?" Jon mumbles as he scrubs a hand through his hair.
Spencer shrugs. "Ryan wanted to watch a movie. I said I'd stay up with him." He kind of smirks and tips his head, presses his cheek to the top of Ryan's head. "Obviously I'm fulfilling my duties."
"Obviously." Jon laughs and stretches, which makes his shirt ride up, just a little, just enough to flash a patch of stomach above his pajama bottoms. Spencer doesn't look. He also doesn't look when Jon sort of folds himself onto the other side of the couch, tucks his legs to his chest. He's facing Spencer and his feet barely brush Spencer's thighs.
"This isn't a movie," he says, looking at the TV.
"I changed it when Ryan passed out. It's too fucking late for subtitles." Out of the corner of his eye he sees Jon grin as his head drops back against the arm of the couch, lolling to the side. His cheeks look a little too...something. Pink.
And Spencer would've stopped thinking too hard on that unnecessary observation had Rosey not climbed onto the couch and sprawled across Jon, lazy and relaxed, like a cat. She closes her eyes, and Spencer hears her sigh, softly; then, even softer, "Mmm, Spencer.”
He holds his breath and glances over at Jon. Jon's not looking away from the TV; he combs his fingers through Rosey’s reddish brown fur, making her hum contentedly. She looks happy.
She looks satisfied.
Spencer's heart is beating too fast.
On the floor at his feet, Chaz is asleep (really asleep), Salara curled into a neat ball next to her head. Neither daemon twitches in the slightest.
He doesn’t look at Jon until he finally untangles himself from Ryan and says, carefully, "I'm going to bed."
"Sweet dreams," Jon replies, sleepy and quiet and cheek pressed against the couch, his eyes closed, one arm draped over Rosey’s body.
Spencer ignores the heat he feels creeping into his skin; instead, he crawls into his bunk with Chaz and stares up at the too-close ceiling, heart pounding. He holds out for five minutes.
Chaz sort of purrs deep in her throat when Spencer finally shoves his hand down his boxers. It sounds a lot like Jon.
*
Pete's daemon, a Capuchin monkey named Ezra, is a boy. Ryan knew him (really knew him, as in face-to-face and not through AIM and stalkerish comments on LiveJournal) for almost two months before he learned this fact. He wonders sometimes how it's never been leaked to the media.
"I've never met a guy with a boy daemon," he'd said in mild shock after Patrick told him. "I mean, the odds are so--it's just--"
"Different?" Patrick said, laughing slightly. He'd shrugged and shook his head. "Yeah, but you forget about it after awhile, and Pete doesn't make a big deal out of it, except when he’s trying to convince Bill that Zee can read minds."
After that, Ryan notices how Pete refers Zee as female in his interviews and blog entries. No one ever questions it, and Ryan feels strangely honored to know the truth.
"Would you look at me differently if my daemon were male?" Ryan asks Brendon one night at random during a marathon of The O.C.. Brendon has his head in Ryan's lap and Ryan pretends that it's annoying.
Brendon tilts his head up to look at him, eyebrows raised. "I don't know. You mean, like Pete?" The whole band knows; everyone on the label knows, like a secret handshake.
"Yeah. Like Pete."
Brendon shrugs. "It just happens sometimes." He looks back at the TV, adds quietly, "It doesn’t change who you are or anything." He rubs his cheek against Ryan's leg, softly, and Ryan lets his hand drop down from the back of the couch and land somewhere along the curve of Brendon's neck. Ani makes a tiny muffling sound in her sleep from her spot at Brendon's feet. Salara, fitted under Ani's muzzle, watches Ryan with wide, dark eyes.
A couple weeks later, during a break on tour, Ryan watches Pete's band from backstage. Patrick's daemon, a red panda named Darmia, usually spends most of their shows curled around Patrick's mic stand, her long tail swishing contentedly, and sometimes she'll hold Patrick's spare picks. Zee is every inch of Pete's energy and showmanship, flying across the stage and jumping from amp to amp. He and Joe's Husky daemon, Keleva, chase each other, wind around Joe and Pete in intricate loops and spins, and the crowd usually goes nuts when both dog and monkey try to show up the humans. Andy ignores them all and pounds the shit out of his drums while Barra, his woodpecker daemon, sits calmly on his shoulder. She doesn't move much, except to pick up the broken bits of wood whenever Andy shatters one of his sticks.
Tonight Ryan's more aware of how tactile Zee is with Mia. It's nothing new, but somehow it's more this time, even though Ryan's pretty sure no one notices but him. Zee wraps his arms around Mia's tail, nuzzling his face into the striped fur, and Mia smiles without taking her eyes off Patrick. Eventually, in between songs, Mia slides down the mic stand to the stage and lets Zee hug her tight; he presses his small body, tinier and thinner than Mia's, along the curve of Mia's back and closes his eyes, sighing like there's no other place he'd rather be. Mia leans over her shoulder and noses at Zee's chin, just a little, and all this happens within the time it takes for Pete to banter with the crowd while Patrick tunes his guitar, smiling with one corner of his mouth when Pete calls him "Stupefying Stump" and the crowd cheers.
It's...it's so obvious. Ryan's stomach clenches a little, because it feels so painfully intimate, and yet it's all there, daemon snuggled against daemon, in front of everyone. A row of girls in the very front coo at Mia, who climbs back up the mic stand, and Zee makes a face at them before kissing Mia's tail and taking off across the stage to wrestle with Kel as they lead into a new song.
Ryan wonders why they let it happen. Surely--surely they know, at least Patrick, and yet--and yet--
"Why do you let Zee and Mia do that?" he asks Pete after the show, and Pete laughs.
"Do what? Hang out?" But Ryan can see the smirk in his eyes. He knows exactly what Ryan means.
"No--touch. Out in the open. In front of--"
"Dude." Pete lays his hand on Ryan's shoulder and shakes his head a little in disbelief. "Are you serious? Have you seen the tapes of you and Brendon on stage?"
Ryan frowns, feels himself blush a little too fiercely, which only serves to make Pete grin harder and throw his arm around his neck in a rough hug.
He performs the next night with his eyes trained on Ani; he's conscious of each time Salara crawls down his arm and onto the stage, meeting Ani as she races out from under Brendon's feet while Brendon "flirts" with Katie Kay. She bumps her muzzle up against Salara's side, and Salara reaches out and brings their noses together in a sort of daemon Eskimo kiss, her tiny paws splayed along Ani's mouth. Ani barks happily and licks Salara's ear, and Ryan is utterly aware of the sharp shiver that trails up under his skin at that small touch.
Brendon looks over and winks at Ryan. For a split second, Ryan forgets to breathe.
*
About a month into the tour, Zack comes down with a really nasty variation of the flu ("Not the flu, black plague," Brendon shudders), which lasts for about week or so, making them all half joke about quarantines on the bus.
Spencer hasn't been sick in years, so he figures it makes sense for him to be the one struck down next the instant Zack recovers.
It hits him mid-show, fast and without warning, but he still plays. When the show is over, he barely makes it off stage, finally collapsing against Chaz, dizzy and slick with sweat.
He leans against the wall, and suddenly there is a wet nose against his cheek. A warm, gentle tongue licks him tenderly, and a soft muzzle shoves its way under his arm.
"Spencer, Spencer, it's okay, you'll be fine," someone whispers, and Spencer opens his eyes to find Rosey looking down at him calmly. She nods, adds, “Jon’s on his way,” and licks his cheek again. Chaz makes a strange whimpering sound in her throat, but Rosey doesn’t pull away.
A second later, Jon is standing over him, pulling him carefully to his feet. "Shit, dude, you're gray," he says, holding Spencer close while Rosey nudges the back of Spencer's knees to get him walking.
Ryan and Brendon soon catch up, followed by Tom, and the four of them manage to get Spencer onto the bus and into his bunk, where they feed him ibuprofen and juice. Zack is already talking about rescheduling the following night's show in San Diego because, "There's no way he's getting over this in twenty-four hours, trust me." Spencer fades out into unconsciousness with the back of Jon's hand pressed to his forehead, gauging his fever. He vaguely hears Tom say, "He'll be fine, Jon, promise."
He sleeps like the dead, waking in the late afternoon hours with Chaz covering him like a warm blanket. When his fever breaks, Chaz whispers quietly in his ear, "She touched you." Spencer swallows and doesn't reply.
Spencer doesn't mention it to Jon at all, but he's conscious of the way Chaz doesn't look at Rosey for days afterwards.
Finally, late one night somewhere between New Mexico and Texas, Jon pulls back the curtain of Spencer's bunk. It's dark, except for the blue light of Spencer's Sidekick.
"So, I'm sorry," Jon says.
"Why?" Spencer sets down his phone, chewing his lip slightly. He feels Chaz grow tense where she's lying across his feet.
"I...I shouldn't have let Rosey touch--I mean. You were sick and all, I just. I was out of line." He smoothes his hands over the mattress as he looks away, and Spencer can hear the soft tinkle of dog tags below, where Rosey winds her way between Jon's legs.
"It's okay, I understand. You didn't mean anything by it." It comes out all wrong, completely wrong, and Spencer hates the way Jon flinches.
But he doesn't take it back; instead, he holds his breath and waits for Jon to correct him. He doesn't.
"Yeah, I. Yeah. Alright." Jon nods, his eyes flicking down the bed to Chaz, who lifts her head. Her eyes are a glowing green in the dark.
He leaves Spencer alone, and when Spencer's certain Jon's gone, he rolls onto his side, facing the wall. Chaz inches her way up the bunk until her soft, sleek ears brush Spencer's lips.
"It was just a mistake, that's all," he whispers, and Chaz nuzzles his chin.
part two
Fandom: bandslash/His Dark Materials crossover
Rating: R
Pairings: Jon/Spencer, Ryan/Brendon, Pete/Patrick
Word Count: 8200
Disclaimer: Didn't happen, and I am not Phillip Pullman.
Summary: Um, Daemons! at the Disco! Or something. In other words, an AU set within the general timeframe of Panic's Nothing Rhymes With Circus tour.
Notes: at the end <3
Also, a quick Daemon Primer for those of you unfamiliar with HDM. :)
Spin: So how have your daemons reacted to all this sudden fame?
Brendon Urie: We're all taking it really well, so I think they're fine. Anyway, isn't it bad press to say a band's daemons are suffering?
Spin: Good point.
Jon Walker: They don't have their own bunks or anything on the bus, if that's what you mean.
Ryan Ross: I heard that John Lennon once said his daemon loved the stage more than he did. I don't know if that's true or not, but they do keep you going. Grounded, I guess. It's probably safe to say the success of your band depends on how your daemons take to the show, the atmosphere and the feeling of performing.
Spin: And your daemons have taken it in stride, then?
Spencer Smith: We wouldn't be talking to you right now if they hadn't.
On the day Spencer turned thirteen, Chaz settled into the shape of a jaguar. He'd been in awe, stroking his hands down her shiny black fur and marveling at how tall she stood, how big and powerful her body was in comparison to his own. Ryan remembers the day well.
"She's so beautiful," Spencer had said quietly to Ryan, who secretly believed Spencer's daemon would be a dog of some sort, or some other smallish animal, like his own. As children, they'd grown up with Chaz and Salara changing in and out of shapes--dogs, birds, lions, every animal imaginable--but always staying equal. When Salara settled into her chosen Chinchilla shape, Ryan had been slightly disappointed. She wasn't elegant or fast or intimidating; instead, Salara was small, quiet, smart.
Ryan was sick with envy for weeks after Chaz settled, but he never let Spencer know. Eventually he consoled himself with the fact that Salara could curl up in his pocket at school and sleep fitted into the curve of his neck at night. He loved Salara dearly, and in the end, her shape didn't matter.
Then came the day Ryan met Brendon and his Corgi daemon, Ani, who was small and happy and friendly to the point of being almost painful, and Ryan realized at that moment that Ani was everything Chaz was not. Chaz hardly ever touched Salara, but Ani was always demonstrative toward her, always in her space. Ani tried do to the same to Chaz, who batted her away with a bored look, making Spencer laugh.
Brendon had pouted, just a little, and Spencer had replied, "Look, she's not like that, okay? It's nothing personal, we just like our space."
"Salara doesn't mind," Brendon said, and that, for some inexplicable reason, had made Ryan blush.
*
In the beginning when they were all getting their bearings and actually learning how to be this thing called a band, Spencer would focus on Telsy, Brent's Golden Retriever, who usually sat off to the side of the stage during their concerts and thumped her tail in time with the music. She was a constant, and she'd smile at Spencer sometimes when their sound was good or the crowd was particularly loud at the end of a set.
It was different than the feel of Chaz stretched out behind him and his kit, body regal and protective and watchful; Telsy's smiles told him they were going to make it. The lights would go down, and Brent would turn around, grinning, sweat pouring down his face, and say, "Awesome, man," and Spencer knew he wasn't lying, knew it from the way Telsy nodded at Brent as she butted her head up against Brent's side.
At one point, Spencer was fairly certain (though he'll never, ever tell Ryan) he wouldn't be able to play without Telsy in his peripheral vision.
But Telsy stopped smiling. She stopped looking at Spencer during performances altogether, and soon Brent was tucking his bass away before the roar of the crowd had died, Telsy close to his side, their backs to Spencer and the rest of them.
When Ryan tells Spencer to make the call to Brent (the final call), it takes a good three hours for Chaz to talk him into it, to soothe the tremor in his hand and the catch in his voice. "It was his choice," she whispers, and Spencer has to close his eyes while he dials the number.
A few weeks later, they rehearse for the first time with Jon. Spencer makes it through three songs, staring straight ahead, but then he glances over and sees Rosa, Jon's Irish Setter daemon, panting happily beside Jon, her tail waving in time with the chorus of "But It's Better If You Do". She catches Spencer's gaze and smiles brightly at him, her tongue soft and pink.
A sick taste fills his mouth suddenly. He finishes the song and leaves the room with Chaz tight on his heels, ignoring Ryan's protests. He doesn't play again for the rest of the day.
Jon comes into the hotel room later that night, hands shoved in his pockets. He stands at the edge the bed, where Spencer is curled up watching television with Chaz.
"You wanna say something to me?" he asks. Rosey rests her nose on the mattress, a few inches from Chaz's tail. Chaz narrows her eyes and curls her tail inward, closer to her body.
"No." And he doesn't intend the word to sound hateful, but. He doesn't know what else to say. There's nothing to say. They never thought this would be an instant fix, presto-chango. Jon's amazing, sure, but it's different. So different. Spencer just doesn't have the fucking words to say any of it. He remembers looking at Jon over the past several months, in secret, and thinking about the what ifs: what if he were one of them? What if he left his gig with the Academy and joined them? He's pictured it in so many ways, more than he'll ever admit, but he's never pictured Jon in Brent's place.
Jon bites his lip and nods. "Okay. But you'd tell me if you were upset with me, right?"
He finally looks away from the TV, meets Jon's gaze. "Yeah," Spencer replies, and he means it. He hears Rosey make a faint snuffling noise; she's looking up at Jon, her brown eyes wide, and Jon nudges his fingers behind her ears.
"Because this?" Jon doesn't motion to anything, doesn't need to. "I want this. I want to be a part of it. But I don't want it if you--if it's not--" Rosey's shivering a little, and it makes Spencer want to reach out and smooth his hand over her muzzle.
Spencer shakes his head, sits up. "No, yeah, it's fine. Just...ignore me, okay? I'm a fucking bitch sometimes, you should know that by now, or at least Brendon's told you a couple dozen times." He forces a smile, and it's easier than he initially thought it would be. Chaz, who's barely moved a muscle, relaxes against him, sighing as she shuts her eyes and pretends to sleep.
Jon laughs, and his eyes look relieved. "I think it was Pete, actually. Brendon thinks you're, like, a rockstar. A sparkly rockstar." His cheeks are a touch pink around the edges, but Rosey is panting and leaning against Jon's hip. They both smile at Spencer, together, and for a second, Spencer's heart tugs.
Chaz sighs again and presses closer to Spencer's side.
*
Ryan loves watching other daemons. He makes notes in his head of their mannerisms, their various ticks and how much they mirror their people. Spencer once joked that Ryan loved watching daemons more than humans, and while Ryan had laughed, he's always thought there was some truth to that.
Daemons can strip a person bare. But Ryan tries not to think too deeply on that very often, because it's both terrifying and fascinating and sometimes keeps him up too late at night.
He watches Ani constantly, but he doesn't realize he watches her as much as he does, not completely, until the day they're sitting in rehearsal, prepping for the new tour (their first headlining tour), and Brendon's full of unreleased energy and motion. Ani jumps into the air, each leap punctuated with sharp barks, and Brendon grabs her, spins her around until she wiggles free and starts all over.
Ryan smiles and shakes his head, but then he looks over and sees Salara sitting on an amp, sighing wistfully, her nose resting on her paws as she watches Ani run circles around Brendon's ankles.
At that point, Ryan sort of gets it. It still doesn't mean he has to think about it. Ani has never been shy about Salara's space, just as Brendon's never been shy about--well, anyone's space. It's fitting that his daemon would be the same. Ryan has assumed since the beginning that Salara is just more tolerant than other daemons, and it has nothing to do with--with--
He startles a bit when Ani skids across the floor of the rehearsal room and barks happily in Salara's face, her paws up on the amp, bracketing Salara's small, round body. Salara glances over at Ryan, and he swears he catches a smile.
"Earth to Ross." Brendon's suddenly pressed up against his arm, smiling, breath hot against Ryan's cheek. "Can you stop daydreaming? Or at least daydream about me? Please?" He nuzzles the sharp line of Ryan's jaw, and Ryan laughs, a little too breathlessly.
"It's always about you," he replies, raising an eyebrow. He ignores the flush in his cheeks, but it's impossible for him to ignore the way Salara shivers when Ani noses at her ears.
"Dude, of course! Lead singer, top billing! My name in lights!" Brendon throws his arms up dramatically and turns to blow kisses at an invisible crowd.
"Can I throw this at him?" Spencer asks as he holds one of his sticks up, javelin-style. Chaz is sprawled behind his kit, looking bored, her right ear flicking slightly every time Ani barks. Rosey sits calmly in front of Jon and his mic stand, watching Chaz.
Ryan sighs and fakes exasperation. "No. At least wait a few shows so Pete doesn't kill us all."
Jon nods. "Good plan."
Brendon collapses in a heap, bemoaning the unfairness of his band's hatred, and Ryan tries to look put out, he truly does. But Jon's laughing and Spencer chucks his stick at Brendon's head, anyway, which makes Ani bark at Spencer (both of Chaz's ears twitch), and Salara crawls down from the amp and over to Ryan, who picks her up and settles her on his shoulder. Her fur is warm, too warm. Like a blush.
When Brendon looks up at him from the floor, upside down, his arms full of Corgi daemon, and grins, Ryan laughs in spite of himself.
*
Jon and Spencer's daemons have a careful tension between them; Rosey will duck her head occasionally when Chaz catches her gaze, and Chaz sometimes goes to great lengths to keep a tiny sliver of space between them on the bus or during an interview. They respect each other, but neither has the comfort and ease around one another like Salara and Ani. Not that Spencer ever notices.
The awkwardness and frustration from those first few weeks of Jon being officially one of them gradually start to fade, and while their daemons echo the uncertainty still hanging in the air between them, Spencer lets himself relax. He knows things are better now, they're better now, the band as a whole, and that, he thinks, is what matters most.
Rosey still smiles at him every once in awhile during sound checks and rehearsals, and slowly, Spencer learns to smile back.
During a show in St. Louis, Jon looks over his shoulder at Spencer, looking happy and a little smug, like he sometimes does when the flow of the music is going especially well. But his eyes flare a little and he's suddenly laughing, almost shyly, his sweat-damp hair falling into his eyes as he looks away quickly, lower lip caught between his teeth.
Spencer's too caught up in the music to really think about it, and it's not until the lights go down and they're back in the dressing rooms and he can finally breathe again that he looks at Chaz and asks, "Earlier, when Jon--did you--?"
Chaz is panting (all their daemons sort of collapse in a heap after every show while everyone changes and showers), and her eyes flash green. She smiles, and it's a little sheepish. "He was really on tonight. I--I was keeping his beat." She flicks her tail against the couch in double time, and Spencer blushes, hard.
"I love the way Chaz's eyes match the lights of your kit," Jon says to him later as they're climbing back onto the bus. "We didn't even plan it that way, but it's so fucking cool."
"Of course she matches, she's my daemon, isn't she?" The snark sounds natural in Spencer's voice, even as he waits for Jon to say more, mention the fact that Chaz spent the entire show watching him. But Jon just laughs and shoves at Spencer's shoulder, not saying another word.
Spencer stays up late watching South Park reruns with Ryan as they drive through Missouri and onto some barren highway in Kansas. Ryan's asleep, curled up against Spencer's shoulder, and Spencer is just about to pass out himself (the TV is down low and the hum of the road is soothing) when Jon comes trudging into the lounge. He walks slow and loose, like the bones have melted from his body, and Rosey is panting at his side, her eyes at half mast.
"You guys're still up?" Jon mumbles as he scrubs a hand through his hair.
Spencer shrugs. "Ryan wanted to watch a movie. I said I'd stay up with him." He kind of smirks and tips his head, presses his cheek to the top of Ryan's head. "Obviously I'm fulfilling my duties."
"Obviously." Jon laughs and stretches, which makes his shirt ride up, just a little, just enough to flash a patch of stomach above his pajama bottoms. Spencer doesn't look. He also doesn't look when Jon sort of folds himself onto the other side of the couch, tucks his legs to his chest. He's facing Spencer and his feet barely brush Spencer's thighs.
"This isn't a movie," he says, looking at the TV.
"I changed it when Ryan passed out. It's too fucking late for subtitles." Out of the corner of his eye he sees Jon grin as his head drops back against the arm of the couch, lolling to the side. His cheeks look a little too...something. Pink.
And Spencer would've stopped thinking too hard on that unnecessary observation had Rosey not climbed onto the couch and sprawled across Jon, lazy and relaxed, like a cat. She closes her eyes, and Spencer hears her sigh, softly; then, even softer, "Mmm, Spencer.”
He holds his breath and glances over at Jon. Jon's not looking away from the TV; he combs his fingers through Rosey’s reddish brown fur, making her hum contentedly. She looks happy.
She looks satisfied.
Spencer's heart is beating too fast.
On the floor at his feet, Chaz is asleep (really asleep), Salara curled into a neat ball next to her head. Neither daemon twitches in the slightest.
He doesn’t look at Jon until he finally untangles himself from Ryan and says, carefully, "I'm going to bed."
"Sweet dreams," Jon replies, sleepy and quiet and cheek pressed against the couch, his eyes closed, one arm draped over Rosey’s body.
Spencer ignores the heat he feels creeping into his skin; instead, he crawls into his bunk with Chaz and stares up at the too-close ceiling, heart pounding. He holds out for five minutes.
Chaz sort of purrs deep in her throat when Spencer finally shoves his hand down his boxers. It sounds a lot like Jon.
*
Pete's daemon, a Capuchin monkey named Ezra, is a boy. Ryan knew him (really knew him, as in face-to-face and not through AIM and stalkerish comments on LiveJournal) for almost two months before he learned this fact. He wonders sometimes how it's never been leaked to the media.
"I've never met a guy with a boy daemon," he'd said in mild shock after Patrick told him. "I mean, the odds are so--it's just--"
"Different?" Patrick said, laughing slightly. He'd shrugged and shook his head. "Yeah, but you forget about it after awhile, and Pete doesn't make a big deal out of it, except when he’s trying to convince Bill that Zee can read minds."
After that, Ryan notices how Pete refers Zee as female in his interviews and blog entries. No one ever questions it, and Ryan feels strangely honored to know the truth.
"Would you look at me differently if my daemon were male?" Ryan asks Brendon one night at random during a marathon of The O.C.. Brendon has his head in Ryan's lap and Ryan pretends that it's annoying.
Brendon tilts his head up to look at him, eyebrows raised. "I don't know. You mean, like Pete?" The whole band knows; everyone on the label knows, like a secret handshake.
"Yeah. Like Pete."
Brendon shrugs. "It just happens sometimes." He looks back at the TV, adds quietly, "It doesn’t change who you are or anything." He rubs his cheek against Ryan's leg, softly, and Ryan lets his hand drop down from the back of the couch and land somewhere along the curve of Brendon's neck. Ani makes a tiny muffling sound in her sleep from her spot at Brendon's feet. Salara, fitted under Ani's muzzle, watches Ryan with wide, dark eyes.
A couple weeks later, during a break on tour, Ryan watches Pete's band from backstage. Patrick's daemon, a red panda named Darmia, usually spends most of their shows curled around Patrick's mic stand, her long tail swishing contentedly, and sometimes she'll hold Patrick's spare picks. Zee is every inch of Pete's energy and showmanship, flying across the stage and jumping from amp to amp. He and Joe's Husky daemon, Keleva, chase each other, wind around Joe and Pete in intricate loops and spins, and the crowd usually goes nuts when both dog and monkey try to show up the humans. Andy ignores them all and pounds the shit out of his drums while Barra, his woodpecker daemon, sits calmly on his shoulder. She doesn't move much, except to pick up the broken bits of wood whenever Andy shatters one of his sticks.
Tonight Ryan's more aware of how tactile Zee is with Mia. It's nothing new, but somehow it's more this time, even though Ryan's pretty sure no one notices but him. Zee wraps his arms around Mia's tail, nuzzling his face into the striped fur, and Mia smiles without taking her eyes off Patrick. Eventually, in between songs, Mia slides down the mic stand to the stage and lets Zee hug her tight; he presses his small body, tinier and thinner than Mia's, along the curve of Mia's back and closes his eyes, sighing like there's no other place he'd rather be. Mia leans over her shoulder and noses at Zee's chin, just a little, and all this happens within the time it takes for Pete to banter with the crowd while Patrick tunes his guitar, smiling with one corner of his mouth when Pete calls him "Stupefying Stump" and the crowd cheers.
It's...it's so obvious. Ryan's stomach clenches a little, because it feels so painfully intimate, and yet it's all there, daemon snuggled against daemon, in front of everyone. A row of girls in the very front coo at Mia, who climbs back up the mic stand, and Zee makes a face at them before kissing Mia's tail and taking off across the stage to wrestle with Kel as they lead into a new song.
Ryan wonders why they let it happen. Surely--surely they know, at least Patrick, and yet--and yet--
"Why do you let Zee and Mia do that?" he asks Pete after the show, and Pete laughs.
"Do what? Hang out?" But Ryan can see the smirk in his eyes. He knows exactly what Ryan means.
"No--touch. Out in the open. In front of--"
"Dude." Pete lays his hand on Ryan's shoulder and shakes his head a little in disbelief. "Are you serious? Have you seen the tapes of you and Brendon on stage?"
Ryan frowns, feels himself blush a little too fiercely, which only serves to make Pete grin harder and throw his arm around his neck in a rough hug.
He performs the next night with his eyes trained on Ani; he's conscious of each time Salara crawls down his arm and onto the stage, meeting Ani as she races out from under Brendon's feet while Brendon "flirts" with Katie Kay. She bumps her muzzle up against Salara's side, and Salara reaches out and brings their noses together in a sort of daemon Eskimo kiss, her tiny paws splayed along Ani's mouth. Ani barks happily and licks Salara's ear, and Ryan is utterly aware of the sharp shiver that trails up under his skin at that small touch.
Brendon looks over and winks at Ryan. For a split second, Ryan forgets to breathe.
*
About a month into the tour, Zack comes down with a really nasty variation of the flu ("Not the flu, black plague," Brendon shudders), which lasts for about week or so, making them all half joke about quarantines on the bus.
Spencer hasn't been sick in years, so he figures it makes sense for him to be the one struck down next the instant Zack recovers.
It hits him mid-show, fast and without warning, but he still plays. When the show is over, he barely makes it off stage, finally collapsing against Chaz, dizzy and slick with sweat.
He leans against the wall, and suddenly there is a wet nose against his cheek. A warm, gentle tongue licks him tenderly, and a soft muzzle shoves its way under his arm.
"Spencer, Spencer, it's okay, you'll be fine," someone whispers, and Spencer opens his eyes to find Rosey looking down at him calmly. She nods, adds, “Jon’s on his way,” and licks his cheek again. Chaz makes a strange whimpering sound in her throat, but Rosey doesn’t pull away.
A second later, Jon is standing over him, pulling him carefully to his feet. "Shit, dude, you're gray," he says, holding Spencer close while Rosey nudges the back of Spencer's knees to get him walking.
Ryan and Brendon soon catch up, followed by Tom, and the four of them manage to get Spencer onto the bus and into his bunk, where they feed him ibuprofen and juice. Zack is already talking about rescheduling the following night's show in San Diego because, "There's no way he's getting over this in twenty-four hours, trust me." Spencer fades out into unconsciousness with the back of Jon's hand pressed to his forehead, gauging his fever. He vaguely hears Tom say, "He'll be fine, Jon, promise."
He sleeps like the dead, waking in the late afternoon hours with Chaz covering him like a warm blanket. When his fever breaks, Chaz whispers quietly in his ear, "She touched you." Spencer swallows and doesn't reply.
Spencer doesn't mention it to Jon at all, but he's conscious of the way Chaz doesn't look at Rosey for days afterwards.
Finally, late one night somewhere between New Mexico and Texas, Jon pulls back the curtain of Spencer's bunk. It's dark, except for the blue light of Spencer's Sidekick.
"So, I'm sorry," Jon says.
"Why?" Spencer sets down his phone, chewing his lip slightly. He feels Chaz grow tense where she's lying across his feet.
"I...I shouldn't have let Rosey touch--I mean. You were sick and all, I just. I was out of line." He smoothes his hands over the mattress as he looks away, and Spencer can hear the soft tinkle of dog tags below, where Rosey winds her way between Jon's legs.
"It's okay, I understand. You didn't mean anything by it." It comes out all wrong, completely wrong, and Spencer hates the way Jon flinches.
But he doesn't take it back; instead, he holds his breath and waits for Jon to correct him. He doesn't.
"Yeah, I. Yeah. Alright." Jon nods, his eyes flicking down the bed to Chaz, who lifts her head. Her eyes are a glowing green in the dark.
He leaves Spencer alone, and when Spencer's certain Jon's gone, he rolls onto his side, facing the wall. Chaz inches her way up the bunk until her soft, sleek ears brush Spencer's lips.
"It was just a mistake, that's all," he whispers, and Chaz nuzzles his chin.
part two