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Back when he and Ashlee were in high school, they both developed an unfortunate obsession with bath and shower products, and amassed a stockpile that could serve the hygiene needs of a small town for several years. It stands to reason, then, that the bathroom Brendon shares with Spencer is packed to capacity with different kinds of shampoo, conditioner, soap, and a whole bunch of girly shit that Ashlee bought that usually involves twelve types of glitter.
Brendon pretends to judge her for them, but privately, he has his favorites.
It’s the weekend, so he doesn’t have any classes to run out the door for, and it’s in the middle of the day so he’s pretty certain he’s not going to be making Spencer late for any pressing engagements with his good friends the PS3 and the Golden Girls, so Brendon takes his sweet time. He shampoos, he rinses, he repeats. He jerks off thinking about the long column of Spencer’s neck when he laughs, the way his fingers twitch and drum when he’s bored. Once he’s recovered and his knees aren’t jelly, he rinses come off of the tiles. He exfoliates and moisturizes.
And then when he’s done, Brendon quickly dries off and wraps the towel around his waist, whistling a little as he opens the door and starts out, along with a billowing cloud of steam.
And promptly runs directly into Spencer, who blinks at him sleepily.
“Whoa, hey,” Brendon says, taking a step back, laughing a little. “Sorry, man, didn’t even see you.”
“Obviously,” Spencer grumbles, patting Brendon’s arm and feinting like he’s going to move out of Brendon’s way, and then...stopping. Brendon blinks, confused, and watches Spencer stare down at his grip on Brendon’s arm. “You...” Spencer starts, then blinks, frowning.
“What?” Brendon asks, frowning too. “Spencer, are you - “
“That’s - what kind of shampoo is that?” Spencer asks, sounding sort of strangled. He moves a little closer, stepping up to Brendon until Brendon’s back is against the doorframe and Spencer’s kind of...huh, kind of surrounding him.
Immediately, Brendon starts to blush. “Um - r-rosemary and mint, maybe? I’m not sure, I wasn’t really paying attention,” he stammers.
Spencer looks completely befuddled, but leans in (oh christ) and - and fucking breathes Brendon in, holding him against the doorframe and pressing up against him for a good thirty seconds, brushing the tip of his nose against Brendon’s jawline before letting go of the grip on his arm and moving away, seemingly embarrassed. “Um. It’s good. It smells good.”
“Good,” Brendon breathes, slumped against the frame for a few seconds, staring at him. “Um. Clothes.”
Spencer blinks, and then looks down and apparently notices for the first time that Brendon’s in a towel. His cheeks go a little pink, and Brendon almost runs into the wall when he notices how dark Spencer’s eyes have gotten. “Yeah. ...Yeah, clothes. Clothes are - “
“Good,” Brendon supplies helpfully, leaning against the wall now.
“Yeah,” Spencer nods. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something else, but then he shakes his head and gives Brendon one more completely gobsmacked look before he he closes the bathroom door firmly.
Brendon stares at it for a second, and then rubs a hand over his face, looking up and down the hall.
At the far left end of the corridor, Bob’s smirking at him, a bowl of chips in his hand. “That was cute,” he tells Brendon cheerfully.
Brendon doesn’t think it’s physically possible for him to blush any redder. “Shut up, Bob,” he mutters, before heading back to his room to mull over what the hell just happened.
-
Spencer has an appointment with Hurley to get his ankle cleared on Thursday, and it’s only Tuesday but he’s already so antsy it’s hilarious. He keeps poking Brendon and beaming at him, spazzing out a little over the prospect of unlimited mobility. Brendon would be annoyed if it weren’t so fucking adorable.
They’re busy pretending to watch Wizards of Waverly Place, mostly talking and pinching each other, when the intruder alert goes off. Spencer immediately freezes, looking terrified, but Brendon snaps into efficiency-mode and tugs him down onto the ground, tucking them into a corner behind the sofa that Bob told him was safe.
There have been a few scares since Brendon came to live with Patrick and Pete, all of them false, thank God, but Brendon’s pretty sure it never gets less nerve-wracking. It feels like an hour before the lights in the house come back on. Spencer’s shaking, but curled around him protectively, pressing him back against the walls. “S’okay, Spence,” he murmurs, rubbing his arm companionably. “We’re good now.”
“Bden, you alive?” Pete’s voice calls out from the intercom.
“Yeah,” Brendon hollers back. “Spencer’s with me. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, Bob caught ‘em. Hey, meet us in the foyer, okay?”
“Wait, what?” Brendon says, poking his out from behind the sofa. “Bob caught someone?”
“Yeah! Okay, see you in a minute!” And then there’s a crackle and pop, and Pete’s voice is gone.
“Um.” Spencer’s head pops up beside Brendon’s. “Is it normal procedure to meet the people who were trying to break into your home?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at Brendon.
“No,” Brendon mutters, frowning. “But it is Pete. And Bob’s there, so it should be safe. Let’s go.” He gets up, and reaches down to give Spencer a hand up, and waits for him to navigate around the sofa before heading for the main foyer.
Brendon hasn’t even rounded the corner to head down the stairway when he hears voices arguing. Pete’s is one of them, and maybe Bob’s, but there’s another one, shrill and frustrated and obviously fucking freaked. Brendon quickens his pace a little, just in case shit goes down, but then he and Spencer both hear a vehement “no, fuck YOU,” and Spencer makes this weird little squeaky noise beside him, and immediately pushes forward, hurtling down the stairs. Brendon squawks and tries to catch up, worried Spencer’s going to re-break his ankle, but then when he gets to the bottom of the stairwell he almost runs into the back of Spencer and re-breaks it for him.
“Ow, jesus christ, what - “ he starts, before he realizes everyone’s staring at Spencer, who is staring at the lanky, skinny guy silhouetted by the lamplight in the foyer. In front of him, Spencer sucks in a breath.
“Ryan?”
-
It’s been twenty minutes, and Brendon’s smiled and shaken everyone’s hand, so his job is pretty much done. So he’s sitting on the steps of the main staircase, his head pressed against the rails as he watches the touching reunion scene play out in front of him.
Spencer and Ryan are beaming, fucking beaming at each other, and the other guy - Jon - has his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. For the first couple of minutes none of them were really sure what to do and Brendon was a little afraid Spencer would bolt, but then Ryan had reached for him, tugged him forward with careful fingers and Spencer had just - had just folded in, collapsed into Ryan and held on for dear life, obviously so relieved that it had just overwhelmed him.
And now, of course, Pete and Patrick and Ashlee have all gotten in on the act, grinning and shaking hands and cracking jokes, and it’s suddenly a big family reunion. And Brendon’s sitting on the staircase, watching it happen.
That didn’t take long.
The thought barely manages to flash through Brendon’s brain before he’s ashamed of it - these are Spencer’s best friends, the ones who kept him alive, and if he’s going to keep any part of Spencer after he’s left, he’d better get over there and -
“Hey,” comes an unfamiliar voice above him. Brendon looks up, and gives Jon a smile.
“Hi.” He doesn’t protest as Jon sits down on the steps beside him, just looks over at Spencer and Ryan and his parents all talking. Spencer’s smiling, like it’ll break his face, and Ryan’s arm is slung over his shoulders, and Brendon’s stomach hurts, low and deep down.
“We were so sure he hadn’t made it,” Jon murmurs, shifting so his knee just touches Brendon’s. “Ryan was - he still isn’t really the same. From how he was before.” Jon slouches back against the stairs, propping himself up on his elbows. “It sort of broke him.”
“Mm,” Brendon hums solemnly, not sure what Jon’s wanting from him. He watches Pete poke at Spencer’s belly, and Ryan’s wide, pretty smile, and he just really, really wants to go upstairs and go to bed and not come out for a few years. “Maybe this will fix him. Fix them both, actually,” he offers, turning and giving Jon a wide, hopeful, completely insincere smile.
Jon smiles back a little and looks over at them. “Spencer seems pretty whole.”
Brendon looks down at his hands, back up at Spencer. “That’s good,” he murmurs, putting another smile on quick, when Spencer looks over at him. He stands and brushes his pants off, and looks back over his shoulder at Jon. “It’s good you came for him,” he says, ducking his head a little. “He missed you a lot.”
Jon tilts his head, and watches Brendon move down the stairs and over to where everyone is standing. He’s smiling, suddenly, beaming actually, and talking fast and loud and cheerful with Pete and Ryan, laughing at Pete’s jokes. His smile only seems to fade when he looks at Spencer.
-
“- out near Bakersfield,” Ryan says, beaming at Spencer, not paying a bit of attention to the tour of the house Spencer is giving him. “We found the radio guys, Spence, they’re so awesome, you wouldn’t even believe it, and we do runs down into LA sometimes but god, it’s - it’s like if the Emerald City and the Omega Man had a baby. It’s fucked up.”
“Yeah?” Spencer asks, wincing. He still doesn’t take very kindly to the idea of Ryan willingly putting himself in danger.
“Yeah. I mean, like, even our Vegas is Martha’s Vineyard compared to that place. It’s bad.” Ryan falls back a little, to look in on the kitchens. “Nice,” he nods, walking up beside Spencer to take in the books in Pete’s study. “Nothing like back home,” he laughs, sort of self-consciously.
Spencer gives Ryan a little smile. “You okay?” he asks, quiet.
Ryan tilts his head and smiles back, but he does actually consider the question before he answers. “Getting there. You?”
“Same,” Spencer says, shrugging a shoulder.
“Having help getting there?” Ryan asks shrewdly, smirking a little when Spencer rolls his eyes. “What? He’s cute. And he thinks you hung the moon, so - “
“Right,” Spencer interrupts, giving Ryan a quelling look. “Yeah, I really doubt that, actually. He’s that nice to everyone.”
Ryan snorts, and keeps walking.
“Seriously, he is. And he’s...I don’t know. I think I’m a project,” Spencer says, frowning faintly. “Plus, I think he probably needs one person in his life that keeps daytime hours, y’know? A real guy.”
Ryan frowns. “What’re you, Pinocchio?” He reaches over to flick Spencer’s arm, and glares at him. “He’d be lucky, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Aren’t you sweet,” Spencer drawls, trying to think of something quickly, to distract Ryan. “Anyway, so what are the radio guys like?”
Ryan’s eyes shine with fervent adoration. “Oh man, Spence, you don’t even know.“
-
He knows it’s a dick move, but when Brendon really can’t stand being in the house anymore, he hides outside in the sunshine. Usually he makes sure it’s after everyone else is asleep, but when he’d ducked out onto the back patio, he could still hear Spencer talking with Ryan upstairs, the two of them laughing, and Brendon had suddenly felt so claustrophobic and sad that he had to get out. Let the sun warm his shoulders.
He sighs, and sprawls out on the warm boards of the deck, closing his eyes against the sun and attempting to keep his mind blissfully blank. It works, for a while, but then a shadow passes over his face and stays there. Brendon frowns and blinks his eyes open and squints, finally managing to focus on Ryan hovering over him, looking unimpressed.
Brendon sighs and sits up, and gives Ryan a small smile. “Don’t usually get much company out here,” he says gamely, patting the stoop beside him. He’s not thoroughly surprised when Ryan stays standing, though.
Ryan squints up into the sun and nods, and produces a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his weather-beaten bomber jacket, and offers the pack to Brendon. When Brendon waves it away, Ryan shrugs and takes one, lighting it with a zippo before he comes to sit on the stoop, on the opposite side of Brendon. There’s a long, awkward pause.
“Thanks,” Ryan finally mutters. “For looking out for him.”
Brendon presses his lips together and looks down at his hands. “Likewise.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and then shakes himself and pastes a smile on. “How did you hear Spencer was with us, anyway?”
Ryan shrugs a shoulder. “Pete did a podcast, talked about his new baby vamp from the outlands. We picked it up, and I had a feeling.”
Brendon blinks. “What, really?” he asks, startled at the slow, amused smile Ryan gives him.
“Yep.”
Brendon nods, and ducks his head again. He can feel Ryan’s eyes still on him, but he can’t look up. His body just isn’t letting him, it’s like it’s locked up. “You know,” Ryan says, shifting to sprawl back on the deck a little, “he talks about you so much. It’s funny.”
Brendon tilts his chin, turns just enough to give Ryan a tiny smile. “Yeah? Huh.” A bad feeling is settling like lead at the bottom of his stomach. “That is funny.”
Ryan keeps quiet, takes another drag off his cigarette, and turns to face Brendon entirely. “Why’s that funny?” he asks, his voice suddenly turning as flat and as dry as the landscape past the city limits, catching Brendon wrong-footed.
And - yeah, fuck that. Brendon knows that Ryan and Spencer and Jon didn’t exactly have the easiest time of it growing up, but neither did he. After four years of goading and insults and black eyes in high school, Brendon told himself he wasn’t going to put up with shit like that anymore. Not even from Ryan.
So he pulls himself up into standing, brushing his pants off before he shoots Ryan an annoyed look and heads back towards the door.
“I’m going to ask him to come with us,” Ryan calls, waiting for Brendon to stop, watching his shoulders hunch up near his ears. “I cleared it with the rest of the guys before we left. They think I’m bringing him back.”
For the first time in his life, Brendon wishes he were a vampire, just so he could do some serious damage to the asshole sitting fifteen feet away. (Then again, if he were a vampire, he’d be a pile of dust from sitting in the sun for so long, but either way, he’d be feeling significantly less stress.) “That’ll be nice for you guys,” he says, voice kind of strained, and he actually manages to get his hand on the doorknob. And then Ryan starts talking again.
“...But I won’t ask him if you don’t want me to.”
And Brendon turns to give Ryan a completely incredulous look. “What?”
Ryan rolls his eyes, and gives Brendon a crooked, disarming smile. “I’m not stupid, even if the two of you are.” He gestures expansively with the hand holding the cigarette. “If, for whatever reason, you don’t want me to, I won’t ask him to come with us. Easy.”
Brendon stares at him for a second, and then scowls. “Fuck you,” he spits. “That’s not - I can’t just do that. And you can’t either, you can’t make decisions like that for him - “
“The hell I can’t, I’ve been doing it for years,” Ryan says cheerfully, flicking the cigarette butt into the lawn. “Well, not recently.”
“Well, I’m not going to,” Brendon snaps, reaching for the doorknob one more time. He yanks the door open and stomps inside, slamming it closed behind him.
At the other end of the patio, Ryan watches the door for a moment or two and then smiles again, brighter, more genuine this time as he lights up another cigarette. He leans back on his elbows and tilts his head up to the sun, only opening an eye a minute or two later when a shadow falls over him. “Jon,” he says easily.
Jon tilts his chin and sits beside him, reaching out to steal a drag of the cigarette and hand it back. “How’d it go?” he asks, leaning back as well.
Ryan purses up his lips, gives him a wry look. “Kid’s actually in love with Spence,” he says, exhaling a plume of smoke, handing the cigarette over to Jon without being asked.
Jon inhales, and nods. “Yep.”
-
Spencer realizes around ten Thursday morning that he hasn’t seen Brendon for at least a day and a half. He doesn’t really think about it right then because Hurley’s in front of him testing out his ankle and Spencer wants to make sure everything goes well, but it’s definitely something he files away for later.
“Later” roughly translates into noon, right when Spencer’s getting ready for bed, dragging himself into a pair of pajamas and almost flopping onto his mattress before his brain triggers Brendon Brendon Brendon Brendon and Spencer actually stops, and turns around, and heads towards Brendon’s room.
That Brendon’s actually in there, huddled up in a little ball under his bedcovers, is kind of a surprise, but Spencer’s tired enough to let it go. He pads over to the bed and pokes Brendon until he grumbles and stirs, and then Spencer tugs the blankets up and slips under them, curling around him easily.
Spencer shivers and presses his cheek to Brendon’s shoulderblade, and lets his eyes close comfortably. “You okay?”
Brendon sighs, and leans back against him a little. “Yeah, m’fine.”
“You don’t have classes?”
“Told ‘em I was sick,” Brendon murmurs, reaching to curl his fingers over Spencer’s on his chest, pressing them in.
“Are you?”
Brendon sighs, and shakes his head. “Just don’t feel good.”
Spencer sucks his teeth, and hugs Brendon to him a little tighter, and then presses his cold nose to the nape of his hair, grinning at Brendon’s little squawk. “Feel better, okay?” And then he presses his cheek against the side of Brendon’s neck, so that he feels more than he actually hears Brendon’s response.
Yeah, okay, Spence.
-
When Spencer wakes up, he’s alone in Brendon’s bed, and Ryan is hovering over him, looking sort of perplexed. Spencer gazes up at him blearily for a moment, and then groans and rolls over.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Ryan says, reaching down to tug the blankets off of Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer yelps and tugs on them, twisting his head to give Ryan a glare, since it’s not like Spencer can produce his own body heat, is it? He was relying on those blankets to keep in the warmth from Brendon.
“You’re a dick,” Spencer grumbles, reaching over to push Ryan a little, then sitting up, rubbing his eyes. “Wha’ time is it?” he asks, his voice cracking on a huge yawn.
“About seven?” Ryan hazards a guess, pursing his lips up as he tries to remember. “The sun’s gone down, but only just.” He takes in Spencer’s nod, and then rolls his eyes and starts pushing at his shoulder, ignoring Spencer’s squawks and protests until he does what Ryan wants and scoots over.
“Don’t put your - take your shoes off, at least,” Spencer huffs, pushing back at Ryan as he sits down, moving to spread out on the bed. “Oh my god, do you guys live like animals out in wherever the hell?”
“Pretty much,” Ryan grins as he toes his shoes off, and then stretches out on the bed, rolling onto his side so he can look Spencer over. Spencer raises his eyebrows and looks back, trying to keep down the smile that wants to break free. He manages to last until Ryan reaches up and pokes his nose.
“Dick. Cut it out,” he says, batting him away. They grin at each other for a moment.
“You look good, Spence,” Ryan murmurs, his mouth twisting up in a smile. “Kinda pale,” he allows, “but. I don’t know, on the drive down here I was half expecting to find you almost dead or, y’know, not you, and here you look better than you did the last six months we were in that hellhole.”
Spencer frowns a little, and keeps quiet. He knows the warning signs of Ryan working himself up to a point, and wants to see where this is going.
“I should’ve taken better care of you,” Ryan says, looking down at the duvet for a minute, frowning as he plucks lint off of it. “Jon and I were so obsessed with getting out and getting picked up, I didn’t even - well, I see now. What you did. And, y’know, thanks and all, but.” He wanders off-track for a moment, frowning at something over Spencer’s shoulder, before he shakes himself and comes back. “You shouldn’t have had to do it. You should’ve been thinking of yourself, not me or Jon, and - “
“Shut up, Ryan,” Spencer mutters, narrowing his eyes at him. “I did what I wanted to.”
“Yeah, I know you did what you wanted to,” Ryan scowls back, reaching up to flick his nose again. “The problem is, I figure you’re always going to be that guy, y’know? Like, you’re always going to want to do what you think will make everyone else happiest, even if it doesn’t make you particularly happy, and what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”
Spencer squints at him, starting to get a little confused. “Ryan - “
“No, just.” Ryan holds up a hand between them, and then pats Spencer’s shoulder with it, his eyes softening a little. “Look. I have missed you so much, Spencer Smith, and I’m not going to lie, Jon and I came here thinking we’d bring you back with us, but.” He pauses, and gives Spencer a wry little smile. “Now I don’t know whether or not I should ask you to come, because I know you’d do it just because we want you to.” He winces at the scowl Spencer gives, and hurries to continue. “Because that’s, y’know, who you are. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that you don’t need to do that for me and Jon anymore. You don’t need to take care of us anymore, we’re good.” Ryan breaks into a grin, suddenly. “I know how to hotwire a car now, did you know that? I know, like, life skills.”
“I don’t really know if I’d consider hotwiring a car as necessary a life skill as being able to, y’know, boil water,” Spencer muses, “but good job?”
“Thank you,” Ryan replies, magnanimously. “So...if you really want to come with us, there’s room. And we’d love to have you. I’ve gotta say, though, Spence,” Ryan says, and he sits up a little, biting his lip as he looks down at Spencer, “it seems like you’ve got a few things working in your favor here.”
Spencer gazes up at him for a moment, a slow smile curling over his lips. “That was a very good speech, Ryan,” he tells him nicely. “Did Jon help you write it?”
“Shut up,” Ryan says immediately, reaching to pinch him between the ribs viciously, grinning as Spencer flails and starts laughing. “Oh my god, shut up, I take it back. You can’t come with us. You’re uninvited.”
“No, it was really sweet! Did you stay up last night and make flashcards? Did he help you remember to make eye contact?” Spencer gasps, twisting away from Ryan’s hands and trying to retaliate.
“You’re an asshole. A big, gaping, prolapsed - “
“This sounds like it’s going well,” Jon says, his head suddenly sticking in the door of Brendon’s room, his eyebrows raised towards the ceiling. He looks over to Ryan. “You tell him?”
“Yeah, but then he was a complete dick, so he’s uninvited,” Ryan complains, slapping Spencer’s hands away when they reach for his ribs. He and Jon share a grin as Jon slips into the room.
“That’s a pretty easy resolution,” Jon says, nodding. “I like it. Elegant in its simplicity.” He watches the two of them tussle on the bed for a minute, before he speaks up again. “You told him about Brendon, too, right?”
Spencer sits up, tugging his shirt back down, blocking Ryan’s attempt to grab for his hair. “Brendon?” He glances down at Ryan, and Ryan’s suddenly sheepish expression. His eyes narrow. “Ryan, what did you do?”
“Um.”
-
Even with all of Pete’s and Spencer’s cajoling, none of them can get Ryan and Jon to say they’ll stay past Friday, when their ride swings back by Vegas that night. Ashlee goes to try to drag Brendon out of his room when the Trans Am and work van screech up into their driveway, sending huge plumes of smoke and sand up into the air, and Pete breaks into a huge grin and whoops excitedly when the doors to the car open up. There’s a streak of dirty blonde hair and then Pete’s being picked up off his feet, swept up into a hug by a cartoonish-looking figure. For just a second, Patrick looks nervous, but then he feels small fingers slipping through his own. He glances back and gives Ashlee a tight smile. “Find him?”
Ashlee frowns, shakes her head. “He wasn’t in his room.”
Patrick sighs, and turns back to be introduced to the rest of the guys getting out of the car, putting on a smile as Pete throws his arm around the blond guy and walks forward.
-
The Killjoys can’t stay for dinner, which is probably for the best since Brendon’s fucked off to god-knows-where in the house, and the rest of them can’t be trusted to do anything but nuke mugs of blood. Ryan and Jon beam at everyone, and so does Spencer, by extension, and Frank talks a mile a minute about the run down to Battery City while Ryan and Jon were gone, and how Toro almost got caught by Korse, but escaped right out from under his nose.
They’re all huddled in a mostly-circular shape on the front lawn, and Spencer uses the quiet while Frank tells his story to look around at the faces of the people there, take them in.
Frank’s animated and quick to smile, especially in Mikey’s direction, and Mikey keeps grinning into space and patting the top of Pete’s head cheerfully. Sandwiched between them, the one with the red hair, Gerard, is keeping quiet and watchful, his eyes dark and sweeping the perimeters, never staying still. Toro keeps interjecting important details he thinks Frank’s likely to forget, and Ryan and Jon both look over the moon about heading back out, finding out the latest volley they’re throwing against BLI. Ryan’s got an aviator cap and goggles plunked on the top of his head, and Jon’s fingers keep twitching eagerly, ready to get going.
Spencer can’t begrudge them their enthusiasm. He kind of wishes he shared it. As it is, though, he’s just glad they have somewhere to be happy, since he does too.
He leans back, and then looks back towards the house, biting his lip, debating. He’s almost come to a conclusion, when a hand rests light on his arm, and he turns to see Ashlee gazing up at him, a small smile on her face. “He’s not in his room,” Ashlee tells Spencer, one corner of her mouth quirking. “See if you can find him?”
Spencer gives her a grateful look, and melts silently away from the circle, heading back towards the house. He runs across Bob in the foyer, who’s bringing out a cooler of what is probably sandwiches and soda, the last battle in Bob’s war to fatten Ryan and Jon up before they leave. Spencer’s relatively certain Bob just misses having other people around who actually have to eat. “Need some help?” he asks, really hoping Bob doesn’t take him up on it.
Bob snorts, and shakes his head, and has almost passed Spencer completely before he says, “I’d check the study, if I were you.”
Spencer turns to watch Bob head out the door towards the group and then decides to take his advice, and heads down the hallway, ignoring the sudden clamor of shouted joy coming from outside.
There is the faint sound of piano music coming from inside the study, which is encouraging. Spencer places his fingertips on the door and rests them there for a second, before he actually pushes it open and peeks inside.
Brendon’s leaning over the piano, his chin propped in his hand as he listlessly plunks out a tune with his right hand, frowning as he tries different variations. Spencer slips into the room unnoticed and watches him for a few minutes, the length of his legs under the piano bench, dark eyelashes a smudge against his cheekbones, his mouth drawn up in a frown.
Something inside Spencer twists tight and hot, and he takes a few steps forward, waiting til Brendon glances over and notices him, before he speaks. “You’re going to miss saying goodbye,” he points out, moving towards the piano and sitting on the bench beside Brendon, straddling it easily.
Brendon’s lips thin out a little, and he nods. “I know.” He pauses, and hits a few more keys. “I’m not very good with goodbyes.”
“That’s okay,” Spencer says, with a small nod. “It’s not like Bakersfield’s so far away, you know? It isn’t forever.”
“Yeah,” Brendon mutters, voice going smaller. “That’s good.”
Spencer puzzles over this for a few seconds, before he replays what he said in his head and suddenly gets it. “Hey,” he says, ducking his head closer, scooting forward on the bench. “Hey, um.”
Brendon huffs a little, frustrated, and glances over at him. “Yeah?”
Spencer bites his lip. “So Ryan and I talked. And he, y’know, wanted me to come with him and Jon and the rest of the guys back to California.” Brendon, bless him, doesn’t even look surprised, he just nods and presses his lips together, resigned. “Anyway, I started thinking about it, and there’s a whole lot of sun and not much else out there, and I don’t trust those guys to have a refrigerator that works, and, y’know, you’re not there, so I don’t really think it was much of a surprise to him when I told him no.”
That gets Brendon’s attention - he looks up at Spencer with wide, dark, startled eyes. “You - what?”
“I’m staying,” Spencer says, biting his lip and reaching for Brendon’s hand on the piano, squeezing it with his own. “I mean, if that’s okay.” He looks down at their hands, at Brendon’s darker fingers twined in with his own. “Ryan said I’d always have a place with them, but I got to thinking, and I think - I mean, I guess like I feel like my place is here. Beside you.”
“Oh,” Brendon breathes, looking down at their hands too. There’s a long, tense pause, and then Brendon squeezes Spencer’s hand, tight. “Oh,” he says again, beginning to grin, leaning into Spencer a little, “that is such a good line.”
“Right?” Spencer agrees happily, just before he finishes closing the distance for Brendon and presses their lips together, feeling the warmth of Brendon’s breath and skin against his own.
Companion Piece: The Getaway Mile, Bob/Gerard, PG
Back when he and Ashlee were in high school, they both developed an unfortunate obsession with bath and shower products, and amassed a stockpile that could serve the hygiene needs of a small town for several years. It stands to reason, then, that the bathroom Brendon shares with Spencer is packed to capacity with different kinds of shampoo, conditioner, soap, and a whole bunch of girly shit that Ashlee bought that usually involves twelve types of glitter.
Brendon pretends to judge her for them, but privately, he has his favorites.
It’s the weekend, so he doesn’t have any classes to run out the door for, and it’s in the middle of the day so he’s pretty certain he’s not going to be making Spencer late for any pressing engagements with his good friends the PS3 and the Golden Girls, so Brendon takes his sweet time. He shampoos, he rinses, he repeats. He jerks off thinking about the long column of Spencer’s neck when he laughs, the way his fingers twitch and drum when he’s bored. Once he’s recovered and his knees aren’t jelly, he rinses come off of the tiles. He exfoliates and moisturizes.
And then when he’s done, Brendon quickly dries off and wraps the towel around his waist, whistling a little as he opens the door and starts out, along with a billowing cloud of steam.
And promptly runs directly into Spencer, who blinks at him sleepily.
“Whoa, hey,” Brendon says, taking a step back, laughing a little. “Sorry, man, didn’t even see you.”
“Obviously,” Spencer grumbles, patting Brendon’s arm and feinting like he’s going to move out of Brendon’s way, and then...stopping. Brendon blinks, confused, and watches Spencer stare down at his grip on Brendon’s arm. “You...” Spencer starts, then blinks, frowning.
“What?” Brendon asks, frowning too. “Spencer, are you - “
“That’s - what kind of shampoo is that?” Spencer asks, sounding sort of strangled. He moves a little closer, stepping up to Brendon until Brendon’s back is against the doorframe and Spencer’s kind of...huh, kind of surrounding him.
Immediately, Brendon starts to blush. “Um - r-rosemary and mint, maybe? I’m not sure, I wasn’t really paying attention,” he stammers.
Spencer looks completely befuddled, but leans in (oh christ) and - and fucking breathes Brendon in, holding him against the doorframe and pressing up against him for a good thirty seconds, brushing the tip of his nose against Brendon’s jawline before letting go of the grip on his arm and moving away, seemingly embarrassed. “Um. It’s good. It smells good.”
“Good,” Brendon breathes, slumped against the frame for a few seconds, staring at him. “Um. Clothes.”
Spencer blinks, and then looks down and apparently notices for the first time that Brendon’s in a towel. His cheeks go a little pink, and Brendon almost runs into the wall when he notices how dark Spencer’s eyes have gotten. “Yeah. ...Yeah, clothes. Clothes are - “
“Good,” Brendon supplies helpfully, leaning against the wall now.
“Yeah,” Spencer nods. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something else, but then he shakes his head and gives Brendon one more completely gobsmacked look before he he closes the bathroom door firmly.
Brendon stares at it for a second, and then rubs a hand over his face, looking up and down the hall.
At the far left end of the corridor, Bob’s smirking at him, a bowl of chips in his hand. “That was cute,” he tells Brendon cheerfully.
Brendon doesn’t think it’s physically possible for him to blush any redder. “Shut up, Bob,” he mutters, before heading back to his room to mull over what the hell just happened.
-
Spencer has an appointment with Hurley to get his ankle cleared on Thursday, and it’s only Tuesday but he’s already so antsy it’s hilarious. He keeps poking Brendon and beaming at him, spazzing out a little over the prospect of unlimited mobility. Brendon would be annoyed if it weren’t so fucking adorable.
They’re busy pretending to watch Wizards of Waverly Place, mostly talking and pinching each other, when the intruder alert goes off. Spencer immediately freezes, looking terrified, but Brendon snaps into efficiency-mode and tugs him down onto the ground, tucking them into a corner behind the sofa that Bob told him was safe.
There have been a few scares since Brendon came to live with Patrick and Pete, all of them false, thank God, but Brendon’s pretty sure it never gets less nerve-wracking. It feels like an hour before the lights in the house come back on. Spencer’s shaking, but curled around him protectively, pressing him back against the walls. “S’okay, Spence,” he murmurs, rubbing his arm companionably. “We’re good now.”
“Bden, you alive?” Pete’s voice calls out from the intercom.
“Yeah,” Brendon hollers back. “Spencer’s with me. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, Bob caught ‘em. Hey, meet us in the foyer, okay?”
“Wait, what?” Brendon says, poking his out from behind the sofa. “Bob caught someone?”
“Yeah! Okay, see you in a minute!” And then there’s a crackle and pop, and Pete’s voice is gone.
“Um.” Spencer’s head pops up beside Brendon’s. “Is it normal procedure to meet the people who were trying to break into your home?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at Brendon.
“No,” Brendon mutters, frowning. “But it is Pete. And Bob’s there, so it should be safe. Let’s go.” He gets up, and reaches down to give Spencer a hand up, and waits for him to navigate around the sofa before heading for the main foyer.
Brendon hasn’t even rounded the corner to head down the stairway when he hears voices arguing. Pete’s is one of them, and maybe Bob’s, but there’s another one, shrill and frustrated and obviously fucking freaked. Brendon quickens his pace a little, just in case shit goes down, but then he and Spencer both hear a vehement “no, fuck YOU,” and Spencer makes this weird little squeaky noise beside him, and immediately pushes forward, hurtling down the stairs. Brendon squawks and tries to catch up, worried Spencer’s going to re-break his ankle, but then when he gets to the bottom of the stairwell he almost runs into the back of Spencer and re-breaks it for him.
“Ow, jesus christ, what - “ he starts, before he realizes everyone’s staring at Spencer, who is staring at the lanky, skinny guy silhouetted by the lamplight in the foyer. In front of him, Spencer sucks in a breath.
“Ryan?”
-
It’s been twenty minutes, and Brendon’s smiled and shaken everyone’s hand, so his job is pretty much done. So he’s sitting on the steps of the main staircase, his head pressed against the rails as he watches the touching reunion scene play out in front of him.
Spencer and Ryan are beaming, fucking beaming at each other, and the other guy - Jon - has his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. For the first couple of minutes none of them were really sure what to do and Brendon was a little afraid Spencer would bolt, but then Ryan had reached for him, tugged him forward with careful fingers and Spencer had just - had just folded in, collapsed into Ryan and held on for dear life, obviously so relieved that it had just overwhelmed him.
And now, of course, Pete and Patrick and Ashlee have all gotten in on the act, grinning and shaking hands and cracking jokes, and it’s suddenly a big family reunion. And Brendon’s sitting on the staircase, watching it happen.
That didn’t take long.
The thought barely manages to flash through Brendon’s brain before he’s ashamed of it - these are Spencer’s best friends, the ones who kept him alive, and if he’s going to keep any part of Spencer after he’s left, he’d better get over there and -
“Hey,” comes an unfamiliar voice above him. Brendon looks up, and gives Jon a smile.
“Hi.” He doesn’t protest as Jon sits down on the steps beside him, just looks over at Spencer and Ryan and his parents all talking. Spencer’s smiling, like it’ll break his face, and Ryan’s arm is slung over his shoulders, and Brendon’s stomach hurts, low and deep down.
“We were so sure he hadn’t made it,” Jon murmurs, shifting so his knee just touches Brendon’s. “Ryan was - he still isn’t really the same. From how he was before.” Jon slouches back against the stairs, propping himself up on his elbows. “It sort of broke him.”
“Mm,” Brendon hums solemnly, not sure what Jon’s wanting from him. He watches Pete poke at Spencer’s belly, and Ryan’s wide, pretty smile, and he just really, really wants to go upstairs and go to bed and not come out for a few years. “Maybe this will fix him. Fix them both, actually,” he offers, turning and giving Jon a wide, hopeful, completely insincere smile.
Jon smiles back a little and looks over at them. “Spencer seems pretty whole.”
Brendon looks down at his hands, back up at Spencer. “That’s good,” he murmurs, putting another smile on quick, when Spencer looks over at him. He stands and brushes his pants off, and looks back over his shoulder at Jon. “It’s good you came for him,” he says, ducking his head a little. “He missed you a lot.”
Jon tilts his head, and watches Brendon move down the stairs and over to where everyone is standing. He’s smiling, suddenly, beaming actually, and talking fast and loud and cheerful with Pete and Ryan, laughing at Pete’s jokes. His smile only seems to fade when he looks at Spencer.
-
“- out near Bakersfield,” Ryan says, beaming at Spencer, not paying a bit of attention to the tour of the house Spencer is giving him. “We found the radio guys, Spence, they’re so awesome, you wouldn’t even believe it, and we do runs down into LA sometimes but god, it’s - it’s like if the Emerald City and the Omega Man had a baby. It’s fucked up.”
“Yeah?” Spencer asks, wincing. He still doesn’t take very kindly to the idea of Ryan willingly putting himself in danger.
“Yeah. I mean, like, even our Vegas is Martha’s Vineyard compared to that place. It’s bad.” Ryan falls back a little, to look in on the kitchens. “Nice,” he nods, walking up beside Spencer to take in the books in Pete’s study. “Nothing like back home,” he laughs, sort of self-consciously.
Spencer gives Ryan a little smile. “You okay?” he asks, quiet.
Ryan tilts his head and smiles back, but he does actually consider the question before he answers. “Getting there. You?”
“Same,” Spencer says, shrugging a shoulder.
“Having help getting there?” Ryan asks shrewdly, smirking a little when Spencer rolls his eyes. “What? He’s cute. And he thinks you hung the moon, so - “
“Right,” Spencer interrupts, giving Ryan a quelling look. “Yeah, I really doubt that, actually. He’s that nice to everyone.”
Ryan snorts, and keeps walking.
“Seriously, he is. And he’s...I don’t know. I think I’m a project,” Spencer says, frowning faintly. “Plus, I think he probably needs one person in his life that keeps daytime hours, y’know? A real guy.”
Ryan frowns. “What’re you, Pinocchio?” He reaches over to flick Spencer’s arm, and glares at him. “He’d be lucky, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Aren’t you sweet,” Spencer drawls, trying to think of something quickly, to distract Ryan. “Anyway, so what are the radio guys like?”
Ryan’s eyes shine with fervent adoration. “Oh man, Spence, you don’t even know.“
-
He knows it’s a dick move, but when Brendon really can’t stand being in the house anymore, he hides outside in the sunshine. Usually he makes sure it’s after everyone else is asleep, but when he’d ducked out onto the back patio, he could still hear Spencer talking with Ryan upstairs, the two of them laughing, and Brendon had suddenly felt so claustrophobic and sad that he had to get out. Let the sun warm his shoulders.
He sighs, and sprawls out on the warm boards of the deck, closing his eyes against the sun and attempting to keep his mind blissfully blank. It works, for a while, but then a shadow passes over his face and stays there. Brendon frowns and blinks his eyes open and squints, finally managing to focus on Ryan hovering over him, looking unimpressed.
Brendon sighs and sits up, and gives Ryan a small smile. “Don’t usually get much company out here,” he says gamely, patting the stoop beside him. He’s not thoroughly surprised when Ryan stays standing, though.
Ryan squints up into the sun and nods, and produces a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his weather-beaten bomber jacket, and offers the pack to Brendon. When Brendon waves it away, Ryan shrugs and takes one, lighting it with a zippo before he comes to sit on the stoop, on the opposite side of Brendon. There’s a long, awkward pause.
“Thanks,” Ryan finally mutters. “For looking out for him.”
Brendon presses his lips together and looks down at his hands. “Likewise.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and then shakes himself and pastes a smile on. “How did you hear Spencer was with us, anyway?”
Ryan shrugs a shoulder. “Pete did a podcast, talked about his new baby vamp from the outlands. We picked it up, and I had a feeling.”
Brendon blinks. “What, really?” he asks, startled at the slow, amused smile Ryan gives him.
“Yep.”
Brendon nods, and ducks his head again. He can feel Ryan’s eyes still on him, but he can’t look up. His body just isn’t letting him, it’s like it’s locked up. “You know,” Ryan says, shifting to sprawl back on the deck a little, “he talks about you so much. It’s funny.”
Brendon tilts his chin, turns just enough to give Ryan a tiny smile. “Yeah? Huh.” A bad feeling is settling like lead at the bottom of his stomach. “That is funny.”
Ryan keeps quiet, takes another drag off his cigarette, and turns to face Brendon entirely. “Why’s that funny?” he asks, his voice suddenly turning as flat and as dry as the landscape past the city limits, catching Brendon wrong-footed.
And - yeah, fuck that. Brendon knows that Ryan and Spencer and Jon didn’t exactly have the easiest time of it growing up, but neither did he. After four years of goading and insults and black eyes in high school, Brendon told himself he wasn’t going to put up with shit like that anymore. Not even from Ryan.
So he pulls himself up into standing, brushing his pants off before he shoots Ryan an annoyed look and heads back towards the door.
“I’m going to ask him to come with us,” Ryan calls, waiting for Brendon to stop, watching his shoulders hunch up near his ears. “I cleared it with the rest of the guys before we left. They think I’m bringing him back.”
For the first time in his life, Brendon wishes he were a vampire, just so he could do some serious damage to the asshole sitting fifteen feet away. (Then again, if he were a vampire, he’d be a pile of dust from sitting in the sun for so long, but either way, he’d be feeling significantly less stress.) “That’ll be nice for you guys,” he says, voice kind of strained, and he actually manages to get his hand on the doorknob. And then Ryan starts talking again.
“...But I won’t ask him if you don’t want me to.”
And Brendon turns to give Ryan a completely incredulous look. “What?”
Ryan rolls his eyes, and gives Brendon a crooked, disarming smile. “I’m not stupid, even if the two of you are.” He gestures expansively with the hand holding the cigarette. “If, for whatever reason, you don’t want me to, I won’t ask him to come with us. Easy.”
Brendon stares at him for a second, and then scowls. “Fuck you,” he spits. “That’s not - I can’t just do that. And you can’t either, you can’t make decisions like that for him - “
“The hell I can’t, I’ve been doing it for years,” Ryan says cheerfully, flicking the cigarette butt into the lawn. “Well, not recently.”
“Well, I’m not going to,” Brendon snaps, reaching for the doorknob one more time. He yanks the door open and stomps inside, slamming it closed behind him.
At the other end of the patio, Ryan watches the door for a moment or two and then smiles again, brighter, more genuine this time as he lights up another cigarette. He leans back on his elbows and tilts his head up to the sun, only opening an eye a minute or two later when a shadow falls over him. “Jon,” he says easily.
Jon tilts his chin and sits beside him, reaching out to steal a drag of the cigarette and hand it back. “How’d it go?” he asks, leaning back as well.
Ryan purses up his lips, gives him a wry look. “Kid’s actually in love with Spence,” he says, exhaling a plume of smoke, handing the cigarette over to Jon without being asked.
Jon inhales, and nods. “Yep.”
-
Spencer realizes around ten Thursday morning that he hasn’t seen Brendon for at least a day and a half. He doesn’t really think about it right then because Hurley’s in front of him testing out his ankle and Spencer wants to make sure everything goes well, but it’s definitely something he files away for later.
“Later” roughly translates into noon, right when Spencer’s getting ready for bed, dragging himself into a pair of pajamas and almost flopping onto his mattress before his brain triggers Brendon Brendon Brendon Brendon and Spencer actually stops, and turns around, and heads towards Brendon’s room.
That Brendon’s actually in there, huddled up in a little ball under his bedcovers, is kind of a surprise, but Spencer’s tired enough to let it go. He pads over to the bed and pokes Brendon until he grumbles and stirs, and then Spencer tugs the blankets up and slips under them, curling around him easily.
Spencer shivers and presses his cheek to Brendon’s shoulderblade, and lets his eyes close comfortably. “You okay?”
Brendon sighs, and leans back against him a little. “Yeah, m’fine.”
“You don’t have classes?”
“Told ‘em I was sick,” Brendon murmurs, reaching to curl his fingers over Spencer’s on his chest, pressing them in.
“Are you?”
Brendon sighs, and shakes his head. “Just don’t feel good.”
Spencer sucks his teeth, and hugs Brendon to him a little tighter, and then presses his cold nose to the nape of his hair, grinning at Brendon’s little squawk. “Feel better, okay?” And then he presses his cheek against the side of Brendon’s neck, so that he feels more than he actually hears Brendon’s response.
Yeah, okay, Spence.
-
When Spencer wakes up, he’s alone in Brendon’s bed, and Ryan is hovering over him, looking sort of perplexed. Spencer gazes up at him blearily for a moment, and then groans and rolls over.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Ryan says, reaching down to tug the blankets off of Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer yelps and tugs on them, twisting his head to give Ryan a glare, since it’s not like Spencer can produce his own body heat, is it? He was relying on those blankets to keep in the warmth from Brendon.
“You’re a dick,” Spencer grumbles, reaching over to push Ryan a little, then sitting up, rubbing his eyes. “Wha’ time is it?” he asks, his voice cracking on a huge yawn.
“About seven?” Ryan hazards a guess, pursing his lips up as he tries to remember. “The sun’s gone down, but only just.” He takes in Spencer’s nod, and then rolls his eyes and starts pushing at his shoulder, ignoring Spencer’s squawks and protests until he does what Ryan wants and scoots over.
“Don’t put your - take your shoes off, at least,” Spencer huffs, pushing back at Ryan as he sits down, moving to spread out on the bed. “Oh my god, do you guys live like animals out in wherever the hell?”
“Pretty much,” Ryan grins as he toes his shoes off, and then stretches out on the bed, rolling onto his side so he can look Spencer over. Spencer raises his eyebrows and looks back, trying to keep down the smile that wants to break free. He manages to last until Ryan reaches up and pokes his nose.
“Dick. Cut it out,” he says, batting him away. They grin at each other for a moment.
“You look good, Spence,” Ryan murmurs, his mouth twisting up in a smile. “Kinda pale,” he allows, “but. I don’t know, on the drive down here I was half expecting to find you almost dead or, y’know, not you, and here you look better than you did the last six months we were in that hellhole.”
Spencer frowns a little, and keeps quiet. He knows the warning signs of Ryan working himself up to a point, and wants to see where this is going.
“I should’ve taken better care of you,” Ryan says, looking down at the duvet for a minute, frowning as he plucks lint off of it. “Jon and I were so obsessed with getting out and getting picked up, I didn’t even - well, I see now. What you did. And, y’know, thanks and all, but.” He wanders off-track for a moment, frowning at something over Spencer’s shoulder, before he shakes himself and comes back. “You shouldn’t have had to do it. You should’ve been thinking of yourself, not me or Jon, and - “
“Shut up, Ryan,” Spencer mutters, narrowing his eyes at him. “I did what I wanted to.”
“Yeah, I know you did what you wanted to,” Ryan scowls back, reaching up to flick his nose again. “The problem is, I figure you’re always going to be that guy, y’know? Like, you’re always going to want to do what you think will make everyone else happiest, even if it doesn’t make you particularly happy, and what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”
Spencer squints at him, starting to get a little confused. “Ryan - “
“No, just.” Ryan holds up a hand between them, and then pats Spencer’s shoulder with it, his eyes softening a little. “Look. I have missed you so much, Spencer Smith, and I’m not going to lie, Jon and I came here thinking we’d bring you back with us, but.” He pauses, and gives Spencer a wry little smile. “Now I don’t know whether or not I should ask you to come, because I know you’d do it just because we want you to.” He winces at the scowl Spencer gives, and hurries to continue. “Because that’s, y’know, who you are. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that you don’t need to do that for me and Jon anymore. You don’t need to take care of us anymore, we’re good.” Ryan breaks into a grin, suddenly. “I know how to hotwire a car now, did you know that? I know, like, life skills.”
“I don’t really know if I’d consider hotwiring a car as necessary a life skill as being able to, y’know, boil water,” Spencer muses, “but good job?”
“Thank you,” Ryan replies, magnanimously. “So...if you really want to come with us, there’s room. And we’d love to have you. I’ve gotta say, though, Spence,” Ryan says, and he sits up a little, biting his lip as he looks down at Spencer, “it seems like you’ve got a few things working in your favor here.”
Spencer gazes up at him for a moment, a slow smile curling over his lips. “That was a very good speech, Ryan,” he tells him nicely. “Did Jon help you write it?”
“Shut up,” Ryan says immediately, reaching to pinch him between the ribs viciously, grinning as Spencer flails and starts laughing. “Oh my god, shut up, I take it back. You can’t come with us. You’re uninvited.”
“No, it was really sweet! Did you stay up last night and make flashcards? Did he help you remember to make eye contact?” Spencer gasps, twisting away from Ryan’s hands and trying to retaliate.
“You’re an asshole. A big, gaping, prolapsed - “
“This sounds like it’s going well,” Jon says, his head suddenly sticking in the door of Brendon’s room, his eyebrows raised towards the ceiling. He looks over to Ryan. “You tell him?”
“Yeah, but then he was a complete dick, so he’s uninvited,” Ryan complains, slapping Spencer’s hands away when they reach for his ribs. He and Jon share a grin as Jon slips into the room.
“That’s a pretty easy resolution,” Jon says, nodding. “I like it. Elegant in its simplicity.” He watches the two of them tussle on the bed for a minute, before he speaks up again. “You told him about Brendon, too, right?”
Spencer sits up, tugging his shirt back down, blocking Ryan’s attempt to grab for his hair. “Brendon?” He glances down at Ryan, and Ryan’s suddenly sheepish expression. His eyes narrow. “Ryan, what did you do?”
“Um.”
-
Even with all of Pete’s and Spencer’s cajoling, none of them can get Ryan and Jon to say they’ll stay past Friday, when their ride swings back by Vegas that night. Ashlee goes to try to drag Brendon out of his room when the Trans Am and work van screech up into their driveway, sending huge plumes of smoke and sand up into the air, and Pete breaks into a huge grin and whoops excitedly when the doors to the car open up. There’s a streak of dirty blonde hair and then Pete’s being picked up off his feet, swept up into a hug by a cartoonish-looking figure. For just a second, Patrick looks nervous, but then he feels small fingers slipping through his own. He glances back and gives Ashlee a tight smile. “Find him?”
Ashlee frowns, shakes her head. “He wasn’t in his room.”
Patrick sighs, and turns back to be introduced to the rest of the guys getting out of the car, putting on a smile as Pete throws his arm around the blond guy and walks forward.
-
The Killjoys can’t stay for dinner, which is probably for the best since Brendon’s fucked off to god-knows-where in the house, and the rest of them can’t be trusted to do anything but nuke mugs of blood. Ryan and Jon beam at everyone, and so does Spencer, by extension, and Frank talks a mile a minute about the run down to Battery City while Ryan and Jon were gone, and how Toro almost got caught by Korse, but escaped right out from under his nose.
They’re all huddled in a mostly-circular shape on the front lawn, and Spencer uses the quiet while Frank tells his story to look around at the faces of the people there, take them in.
Frank’s animated and quick to smile, especially in Mikey’s direction, and Mikey keeps grinning into space and patting the top of Pete’s head cheerfully. Sandwiched between them, the one with the red hair, Gerard, is keeping quiet and watchful, his eyes dark and sweeping the perimeters, never staying still. Toro keeps interjecting important details he thinks Frank’s likely to forget, and Ryan and Jon both look over the moon about heading back out, finding out the latest volley they’re throwing against BLI. Ryan’s got an aviator cap and goggles plunked on the top of his head, and Jon’s fingers keep twitching eagerly, ready to get going.
Spencer can’t begrudge them their enthusiasm. He kind of wishes he shared it. As it is, though, he’s just glad they have somewhere to be happy, since he does too.
He leans back, and then looks back towards the house, biting his lip, debating. He’s almost come to a conclusion, when a hand rests light on his arm, and he turns to see Ashlee gazing up at him, a small smile on her face. “He’s not in his room,” Ashlee tells Spencer, one corner of her mouth quirking. “See if you can find him?”
Spencer gives her a grateful look, and melts silently away from the circle, heading back towards the house. He runs across Bob in the foyer, who’s bringing out a cooler of what is probably sandwiches and soda, the last battle in Bob’s war to fatten Ryan and Jon up before they leave. Spencer’s relatively certain Bob just misses having other people around who actually have to eat. “Need some help?” he asks, really hoping Bob doesn’t take him up on it.
Bob snorts, and shakes his head, and has almost passed Spencer completely before he says, “I’d check the study, if I were you.”
Spencer turns to watch Bob head out the door towards the group and then decides to take his advice, and heads down the hallway, ignoring the sudden clamor of shouted joy coming from outside.
There is the faint sound of piano music coming from inside the study, which is encouraging. Spencer places his fingertips on the door and rests them there for a second, before he actually pushes it open and peeks inside.
Brendon’s leaning over the piano, his chin propped in his hand as he listlessly plunks out a tune with his right hand, frowning as he tries different variations. Spencer slips into the room unnoticed and watches him for a few minutes, the length of his legs under the piano bench, dark eyelashes a smudge against his cheekbones, his mouth drawn up in a frown.
Something inside Spencer twists tight and hot, and he takes a few steps forward, waiting til Brendon glances over and notices him, before he speaks. “You’re going to miss saying goodbye,” he points out, moving towards the piano and sitting on the bench beside Brendon, straddling it easily.
Brendon’s lips thin out a little, and he nods. “I know.” He pauses, and hits a few more keys. “I’m not very good with goodbyes.”
“That’s okay,” Spencer says, with a small nod. “It’s not like Bakersfield’s so far away, you know? It isn’t forever.”
“Yeah,” Brendon mutters, voice going smaller. “That’s good.”
Spencer puzzles over this for a few seconds, before he replays what he said in his head and suddenly gets it. “Hey,” he says, ducking his head closer, scooting forward on the bench. “Hey, um.”
Brendon huffs a little, frustrated, and glances over at him. “Yeah?”
Spencer bites his lip. “So Ryan and I talked. And he, y’know, wanted me to come with him and Jon and the rest of the guys back to California.” Brendon, bless him, doesn’t even look surprised, he just nods and presses his lips together, resigned. “Anyway, I started thinking about it, and there’s a whole lot of sun and not much else out there, and I don’t trust those guys to have a refrigerator that works, and, y’know, you’re not there, so I don’t really think it was much of a surprise to him when I told him no.”
That gets Brendon’s attention - he looks up at Spencer with wide, dark, startled eyes. “You - what?”
“I’m staying,” Spencer says, biting his lip and reaching for Brendon’s hand on the piano, squeezing it with his own. “I mean, if that’s okay.” He looks down at their hands, at Brendon’s darker fingers twined in with his own. “Ryan said I’d always have a place with them, but I got to thinking, and I think - I mean, I guess like I feel like my place is here. Beside you.”
“Oh,” Brendon breathes, looking down at their hands too. There’s a long, tense pause, and then Brendon squeezes Spencer’s hand, tight. “Oh,” he says again, beginning to grin, leaning into Spencer a little, “that is such a good line.”
“Right?” Spencer agrees happily, just before he finishes closing the distance for Brendon and presses their lips together, feeling the warmth of Brendon’s breath and skin against his own.
Companion Piece: The Getaway Mile, Bob/Gerard, PG