Let Each Who is Worthy Part 6

[moku_youbi]

It’s not that cold but Spencer shivers the whole way back to the apartment. The walk’s longer on the way to than it was on the way from, mostly because Jon can’t stop backing Spencer up against brick walls and sliding a thigh between Spencer’s legs while they kiss.

By the time they make it back to the party a lot of the guests have left and there’s a group of about ten in the living room fighting over video games and beer. Jon drops the remainder of the six pack on the coffee table and drags Spencer down the hall to a spare bedroom. Everyone’s so wrapped up in the game they barely notice.

“I used to stay here sometimes,” Jon explains, when he shuts and locks the door behind them. “When I was still doing the band thing, and helping out with tech work and stuff.”

“Are you ever going to tell me about your other bands?” Spencer asks. He sounds playful, but Jon catches his hand and holds it over his own heart.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” Jon says. He can’t help but torture himself with what he might have had, if he’d just been honest, sooner. But even if he can’t have both Ryan and Spencer, he’ll do what he has to, to keep Spencer.

“Later,” Spencer says, and pulls Jon with him towards the bed. The back of his knees hit the mattress and he sits down heavily, undoing Jon’s belt, never letting his eyes leave Jon’s face.

Jon pushes his hand through Spencer’s hair, brushing it out of his face and using it to lead him into another kiss. Spencer’s fingers are shaking as they undo the button on Jon’s jeans and draw down the zipper and Jon has to break the kiss, going down on his knees beside the bed.

“Spence, here,” Jon says, tugging at the hem of Spencer’s shirt and Spencer raises his arms for Jon to get it off. Ryan will run around the apartment shirtless when he first wakes up, but Spencer never bares a lot of skin. It’s all soft and pale and though Spencer drops disparaging comments about how he’s fat, there’s not a lot of extra skin on him. Jon sort of likes it, anyway.

“You too,” Spencer whispers and Jon ducks out of his own shirt as quickly as he can, meeting Spencer halfway for another kiss. Spencer curves his back and wraps his arms around Jon’s neck, pulling them tightly together, skin to skin. There’s a place where Jon fits just right between Spencer’s thighs, held close.

It’s easy to forget what he’s missing when he’s got Spencer squirming and desperate in his arms. It’s easy to forget that maybe Ryan and Brendon are together right now, without them. It isn’t as if he can do anything about it, but he still can’t shake the lingering desire for what he can’t have. But this, this he can have.

Jon fumbles with Spencer’s pants, undoes them enough to work his hand inside Spencer’s boxers, and wraps around Spencer’s cock. Spencer bites down hard on Jon’s lip, half-stifling a little whimper. Jon wants to hear that sound a lot more. It sends sparks down his spine, straight to his dick.

“Spence,” Jon whispers, because he can’t stop saying his name. There are so many things Jon wants to tell him and he’s biting his tongue against them all. He pulls away from the kiss, pressing urgent, messy kisses down Spencer’s neck and chest. Spencer shivers and his hands flutter to Jon’s cheeks, pulling him weakly away from his goal.

Jon lifts his head slightly at Spencer’s insistence. He presses a kiss to Spencer’s palm and says, “Let me, Spence.” Spencer’s hands flex and he slides them into Jon’s hair, but he stops fighting.

Spencer’s hard and leaking in Jon’s hand which is really gratifying considering it’s just been a few messy kisses that got him to this point. He bends his head, pressing the flat of his tongue to the head of Spencer’s cock, licking away the beads of moisture there. Spencer shudders, hands tightening in Jon’s hair as he stifles another sound.

“Spence,” Jon says, kissing the tip of Spencer’s cock, tonguing the underside, loving the way Spencer threatens to shake apart above him. “No one out there can hear us.” The bass of the music in the living room is like a living thing, shaking the whole apartment, and even through the closed door, Jon can hear the lyrics clearly. “Be as loud as you want.”

“I-I don’t…” Spencer protests, shaking his head. Jon knows that Spencer isn’t shy so much as he is inexperienced. Two girls and one guy and only one of those actually ended in anything other than hand jobs and inexpert fumbling that only qualified as sex in the loosest terms.

“You ever lie awake when Brendon and Ryan are at it?” Jon asks, pitching his voice low. Spencer’s head jerks up, eyes meeting Jon’s, and they’re dark and unreadable. “You can hear them through the walls,” Jon continues, and Spencer’s cock twitches. Jon smirks knowingly, pumping Spencer idly, flicking his tongue over the head.

“Brendon does this thing, like a gasp except he sounds like he’s choking on it, and when he whimpers, Jesus, Spence, you know what I’m talking about?” Spencer gives a low moan in response. “And Ryan…those grunts, fuck, he sounds like something out of a porno, it’s so fucking dirty.”

“Jon, please,” Spencer pants, and Jon spares him a brief smile before closing his lips around Spencer’s cock, sucking just slightly. It’s enough to get Spencer leaking over Jon’s tongue, fast and hot. Jon sinks lower and Spencer isn’t being quiet anymore, whispering pleas and promises between these tiny moans. His hips won’t keep still, thrusting weakly to meet Jon’s mouth.

Jon wants to be able to watch this, feels like it should be watched. He’s keenly aware of the missing space around them, where Ryan should be and maybe…maybe Brendon, too. It makes him suck harder, go faster, spurred by the stinging in his scalp as Spencer tightens his hold. Jon squirms in place, resisting the urge to touch himself, because if he does it’s going to be over far too quickly.

For the past seven months Jon’s been imagining what Spencer’s like in bed and this does not disappoint. There’s an edge of desperation as all his careful control just melts away and Jon can’t wait to fuck him, too see Spencer slip the rest of the way.

Jon’s fingers scramble for more skin but Spencer’s jeans are too tight and the position is all wrong so he settles for taking Spencer as deep as he can and swallowing until Spencer’s moans aren’t quiet any more and he’s practically pulling Jon’s hair out by the roots.

“Jon,” Spencer gasps. “I’m…you have to…”

Jon pulls off, shooting him a self-satisfied grin, and fists Spencer’s cock, jerking him fast and rough. Spencer whimpers, head tossed back and Jon says, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard.”

Spencer goes tense all over, head dropping forward and Jon has to kiss him as Spencer shakes through it, coming hot over Jon’s hand and wrist. After a moment Spencer’s kiss loses its edge of urgency, turning soft and even drunk Spencer’s probably the most amazing kisser Jon’s ever encountered.

“Jon, come up here,” Spencer says. He scoots back on the bed, worming out of his jeans and boxers, leaving them in a heap at the foot of the bed. Jon finishes undressing, aware of Spencer’s eyes on him and the hungry look on his face as Jon bares more and more skin.

Spencer pulls him in, winding long limbs all around him. Ryan’s so tall and spindly that Jon sometimes misses that Spencer’s taller and he’s got miles of legs wrapped around Jon’s waist. Jon rolls his hips and Spencer grins against his mouth and says, “I thought you were gonna fuck me.”

“When we’re sober,” Jon promises, because he’s fucked this up enough. He’s not going to keep doing it. He’s going to make Spencer love every second of it.

“You’re so romantic, Jon,” Spencer teases and rolls his eyes. But once he’s got his hand around Jon’s dick, all the teasing is over. His grip is tight and sure and he does this little twist at the end of every upward stroke that has Jon gasping, face buried in Spencer’s throat. He leaves a mark when he comes, Spencer’s skin blooming red and purple from where his teeth set in.

When Jon wakes up, Spencer’s pulled the covers over them and Jon is curled up at his back, nose warm and buried in Spencer’s hair. He smells like the coconut shampoo he always uses and his hair looks silky in the light streaming through the blinds. Jon noses through it to get at the skin at the back of Spencer’s neck, letting his teeth graze lightly.

Spencer stirs and murmurs something unintelligible into his pillow before rolling over, favouring Jon with a sleepy, bemused smile. “Did we actually do that last night?” he asks around a yawn.

Jon nods, taking in the sight of sleepy, bed-headed Spencer Smith. It’s a good look on him. Enough to make Jon want to keep Spencer in bed all the time. He nudges down the covers to see more skin, running a possessive hand down Spencer’s side before coming to rest at his hip.

“Jon,” Spencer says. He catches Jon’s wrist but doesn’t try to move his hand.

“Are you going to freak out on me?” Jon asks. He’s trying to keep his voice light but he can’t help but worry about it.

“No, but Jon,” Spencer sighs. “We were wasted.”

“So you wouldn’t have done it sober?” Jon asks. He runs his thumb back and forth over the skin of Spencer’s hipbone and Spencer squirms.

“Would you?” Spencer counters.

Jon shakes his head incredulously. “Seriously? Spencer, I was up on you all night. Even before we started drinking.”

“Yeah,” Spencer agrees. “But I’m not sure I’m up to being your consolation prize, now that Ryan’s with Brendon.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence that follows where Jon can’t even begin to formulate a response. There are so many things he wants to say that are mean and cutting and will effectively put an end to this before it’s even really begun. He’s really tempted to say them because Spencer’s a little bitch and he wanted to hurt Jon with what he said.

“Aren’t I a consolation prize for you, now that Ryan’s with Brendon?” Jon counters, because it’s the safest response and it still gets a little gasp out of Spencer, his eyes widening in protest.

Spencer scrambles out of bed searching around the mess of clothing for his jeans and shirt. “Fuck you,” he hisses. “I’m going home.”

Jon scrubs a hand over his face, forcing himself to wake up all the way. “Jesus, Spence,” he says, levering himself out of bed and grabbing Spencer’s arm. “I didn’t mean it…I don’t even know how I….Spence, stop, please.”

Spencer falls still, hands on hips, and that look is no less intimidating even if he’s naked. “Spencer,” Jon says, and eases Spencer’s hands out of the way with his own, drawing Spencer closer. This honesty thing was a lot easier drunk.

“I’m just trying to say that…maybe we both wanted Ryan.” Spencer’s expression gets even stormier, if that’s possible, his eyes practically freezing. “Spencer, you’ve got to work with me here. You can’t say you don’t want Ryan.”

“I didn’t sleep with you because of Ryan,” Spencer says hotly. “I slept with you because I love you, Jon.”

“Yeah,” Jon says dully, and can’t even hear himself over the roar in his ears because Spencer just said he loved him. “Yeah, but you love Ryan, too.” He doesn’t wait to hear any more protests because they’re only going to make him angry and then they’ll fight, and the last thing he wants right now is to be in a fight with Spencer.

“All I’m trying to say, Spence, is that I know what it’s like, how hard it is, trying to figure out what to do about it, and maybe Ryan took our choices away from us, but you’re not a consolation prize. I want you, too.” He sounds greedy, but he’s counting on Spencer to understand.

“Me too,” Spencer echoes and then laughs, a mean little sound. “Well, that’s reassuring. I feel so much better.”

Jon lets out a long sigh through his nose. His hands tighten on Spencer’s hips and he’s ready to try harder, ready to say just about anything. Only Spencer takes a step closer and lets out his own sigh.
“I didn’t think I could have either one of you,” Spencer whispers, not looking Jon in the face.

Jon shakes his head. “No, Spence, I’m explaining myself all wrong. I didn’t want to pick one or the other. I had this plan that involved both of you.” Spencer head shoots up to give Jon an incredulous look and Jon chuckles. “What? Tell me you wouldn’t want that.”

Spencer wraps his arms around Jon’s neck, pressing his forehead against Jon’s. “So. So you’re okay with what I feel about Ryan?” he asks haltingly.

“It’s not like I have any room to complain,” Jon says. He traces gentle patterns on the bare skin low on Spencer’s back.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” Spencer says, fingers tracing idly down Jon’s hairline, tucking errant strands behind Jon’s ear.

Jon smiles, nipping the side of his mouth. “You can kiss me whenever.”

“I have the worst morning breath,” Spencer protests. “I feel like something died in my mouth.”

Jon presses their lips together to silence him. “I really don’t care,” he says a few minutes later, when he pulls back and Spencer looks gratifyingly dazed. Spencer smiles and draws Jon into another kiss.

Brendon isn’t really surprised when Jon and Spencer come home together giggling and spend the evening making out on the couch. Ryan doesn’t look very happy about it, but Brendon’s glad for them, even if there’s a little corner of his brain that protests, saying it wanted Jon for itself. There’s no way that can happen now, and Jon deserves to be happy.

Ryan goes to bed early that night and Brendon follows, laying his hand on Ryan’s bare back. “What’s wrong?” he asks, and isn’t sure if he expects an answer.

Ryan sighs and hesitates before rolling onto his back. He looks confused, brows drawn together, mouth turned down in a frown. “Nothing,” he says, and Brendon is so not convinced. “They’re good together.”

“Yeah,” Brendon agrees, watching Ryan’s face for any clues as to what the problem is. “Jon looked so happy today, and I swear, Spencer smiled more today than I’ve seen him smile since I met him.” It’s true, and when Brendon sees that smile, bright and almost painful to look at, Brendon can’t blame Jon for wanting Spencer. Not that he’ll ever say as much to Ryan, or to any of them.

“Yeah,” Ryan echoes. “Everything’s perfect.”

Now there are these new boundaries that Brendon knows didn’t exist before he and Ryan became-whatever they are to each other. He’s seen the three of them twined together more times than he can count. It was something to be anticipated, when he came to their place, finding them hugging or piled on the sofa, sharing a chair meant for one or putting their hands in each other’s pockets.

Slowly Brendon thought he was becoming a part of it, too. Jon’s cuddling, Spencer’s easy, casual touches. Now Jon’s careful to end his hugs after a couple seconds and doesn’t press close to Brendon’s side on the sofa. Spencer’s still fairly casual about his touch, but Ryan gets this look sometimes and tugs Brendon closer and Spencer will roll his eyes, but stop touching Brendon all the same.

They’ve become two clearly defined sets of two within the group, Ryan always pulling Brendon to one side and Jon pulling Spencer to the other. Brendon can tell from the exasperated looks Spencer shoots him that he finds this all just as ridiculous as Brendon does. Neither of them fights it.

Thursday is Ryan’s long day at school. Actually, Ryan’s schedule is pretty full between school and work. Brendon ends up spending most of his free time with Spencer, the only one of them who doesn’t have a job. Spencer’s a lot of fun and he’s easy to be around. Brendon doesn’t feel like he’s always on his toes around Spencer, like he is with Ryan, or like he might do something he regrets, like he does around Jon.

Spencer’s still exploring Chicago and though Brendon no longer feels the need to distract himself, it’s fun to revisit some of the places he went on his free days, and discover new ones with Spencer.

They’ve already been to the aquarium and the zoo, so this Thursday Spencer picks the science museum. “That place is for kids,” Ryan had protested, when Spencer mentioned it over breakfast, and Brendon and Spencer had shared a knowing expression.

They get Dippin’ Dots and wander through the exhibit on the amazing world of insects. “Did you know,” Brendon says, as they pass through a section on wasps, “that there is a special type of wasp that only pollinates fig trees?”

Spencer arches a brow, but in a tell me more way, not in the shut up, Brendon way people usually do when Brendon starts getting dorky. Spencer actually listens when Brendon goes on for a half hour about jelly fish or something.

“Yeah, it’s really gross,” Brendon says, getting excited. “They live inside the fig and that’s where they lay their eggs and everything and then when the babies are born they eat the fruit until they’re strong enough and the male chews through the skin so the babies can get out, and then he dies still inside the fruit and the enzymes in the fig disintegrate the body.”

Spencer stares at him blankly. “That is fucking disgusting,” he says.

Brendon wiggles his brow and makes a big show of licking his spoon. “I know, right?”

“It’s sorta like the twisted-wing parasites,” Spencer says. Brendon loves going to these places with Spencer because Spencer’s really smart about science stuff too, and maybe as much of a dork as Brendon is.

“When they’re in the larval stage they just hang out on a flower, waiting for bee or wasp to come by and then they burrow into it’s body and feed off it’s blood and organs and stuff. They mate from within the body and everything. The females never leave the hosts body. It’s pretty fucking wicked,” Spencer says.

“That is awesome,” Brendon says reverently. “You are the best science buddy ever, Spencer Smith.”

Spencer gives Brendon an almost shy smile, cheeks going red. They spend the rest of the afternoon playing with every exhibit, regardless of whether they were designed for children or not, and speaking to each other in French to the bemusement of everyone else in the museum.

They’ve been doing it whenever they can when it’s just the two of them, though sometimes they slip up around Ryan and Jon who roll their eyes and throw things at them until they stop. Still, Spencer’s getting a lot better and every time he gets home from French class he hurries to show Brendon his quiz scores.

Thursday evening Jon has free from work and class and he comes home to find Spencer and Brendon constructing the wooden cut-out insects purchased at the museum. Brendon’s praying mantis is badass, but Spencer’s beetle looks more like abstract art.

“You two are seriously the world’s biggest losers,” Jon tells them.

“Whatever,” Brendon says breezily. “You’re just bitter you didn’t get to come play with us.”

Jon doesn’t bother trying to hide his grin. “Come on. I’m taking Spencer on a date, and you’re coming with us.”

Brendon darts a nervous look at Spencer, but Spencer is beaming happily at him. He gets to his feet, tugging at Brendon’s arm. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” Jon says and Spencer rolls his eyes when they get to the theatre and Jon buys them tickets for Eight Below.

“Yeah, Jon, you’re so cool,” Spencer says.

Not only does Spencer not mind that Brendon tags along for their date, but he shares his popcorn and soda at the theatre, which makes him Brendon’s new favourite person. Brendon whispers as much over the previews and Spencer blushes and gives him a small smile that Brendon can’t help but return.

Sometimes, when they talk, Brendon thinks Spencer might be flirting with him, and Brendon has begun to hesitantly flirt back. He thinks it can’t hurt anything. Then he catches sight of Jon, sitting on Spencer’s other side, and Brendon remembers why this isn’t allowed. It makes the smile fall from his face.

The beginning of March sees a break in the freezing weather, but in its place comes torrential rains. Every moment Ryan isn’t at school or work he’s at the kitchen table, working on art projects, as midterms approach.

Brendon feels guilty about sort of flirting with Spencer, and about going out without Ryan and besides, the weather sucks, so they end up staying in most nights, renting movies and Jon brings home lots of hot drinks from work.

Brendon and Spencer have said no more ordering out, after Ryan had a mini-freakout over bills and now the two of them make dinner every night while Ryan and Jon make comments about what sweet little housewives they have and Spencer threatens to poison the food.

The first practice with Jesse singing Ryan’s words is sort of an unqualified disaster. Jesse has come up with some of his own melodies and arrangements and Ryan absolutely refuses to even hear them. After a lot of angry whispering in the corner, Ryan spends the last twenty minutes on the couch pretending the rest of them don’t exist while Jon and Spencer patiently try to work their way through Shake It Up with Jesse.

Jon calls an end to things early and Jesse storms off in a fury. Afterwards Brendon sits up late with Ryan in bed, working out things on the piano and making notes and when they get to the bridge, Brendon doesn’t even think about it before grabbing Jon’s bass and playing the part Ryan’s been discussing.

When Brendon looks up, in the silence that follows, Ryan’s watching him with wide eyes. “Piano, bass, what else can you do that I don’t know about?” Ryan asks.

Brendon blushes and goes back to the piano, muttering a soft, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Ryan says and laughs. He scoots up behind Brendon, framing Brendon’s hips with his thighs. Ryan often sits like this when Brendon plays piano, resting his head on Brendon’s shoulder so he can watch. Brendon really likes the feel of it. “I think it’s hot.”

Brendon gives a weak burst of laughter and just violently hates himself for a minute. He refuses to do this. He refuses to try and ruin the band Ryan’s tried so hard to make just because he wants to be a part of it. There isn’t any place for him, and he has to stop being a fucking show-off. His parents always told him when he played the piano at church functions, no one likes a show-off.

When Brendon gets his first pay check he drags Spencer and Jon to Target and on Ryan’s break makes him help pick out new clothes. Brendon’s mostly been borrowing out of Jon’s closet for the past week and a half.

Ryan’s clothes are too long and tight and Spencer’s are too big all over, but Jon is close enough to Brendon’s height, even if he’s somewhat bulkier. It’s okay for work clothing, but when they go out, Brendon looks very obviously like he’s wearing hand-me-downs.

While Spencer makes Jon go with him to look at shoes, Brendon pulls Ryan into one of the changing rooms and goes down on his knees, delighting in the way Ryan’s eyes go dark and round and his breathing speeds up. Brendon can barely believe himself, how much he’s changed in the past few weeks, how as the drugs have left his system he’s finally felt like himself again for the first time in years.

“I’m never going to be able to work softlines again without remembering that,” Ryan tells him later and Brendon smiles cheekily and says, “Good.”

Brendon ends up picking most of his clothing out of the juniors section, and a good sixty percent of it is girls’ stuff, but if the looks Ryan keep giving him are any indication, he approves.

“My parents would flip if they saw me,” Brendon says, examining himself in the three way mirror. These jeans are doing amazing things for his ass (Ryan loves Brendon’s ass, which Brendon doesn’t really get because he has a woman’s ass, but he’ll indulge his boyfriend) and there’s a rainbow coloured star stitched on the back pocket.

Ryan picks out a pair of pinstripe pants that he says will make him look taller, and a bunch of shirts, including a bright red one with rhinestone accents that Ryan says will go well with Brendon’s glasses.

The unforeseen benefit of Brendon’s new wardrobe is the fact that Spencer and Jon can’t seem to stop staring at him, which makes something in Brendon’s chest thrill. Ryan likes tucking his hands in the tight pockets of Brendon’s jeans and jerking him close.

They get more looks on the street now, too, envious or appraising looks; it makes Ryan happy, Brendon can tell. Ryan places a lot of importance in appearance and Brendon’s come to accept that, and even be indulgent towards it.

Brendon and Spencer spend a fair amount of time at a music shop near the apartment and Brendon ends up getting a second job there. He gets a bit of a laugh out of the fact that rather than doing his mission work, he’s working at a coffee shop and a music shop. He’s breaking so many rules he can’t even count them all.

Spencer just gives him an odd look and says, “Well, I suppose the fact that you find it humorous means you’re taking it well.”

Brendon smiles and bumps their shoulders together and says, “It’s sweet, how you’re worried about me.” Spencer gives him one of those sweet, blushing smiles, and Brendon has to swallow around the lump in his throat.

By now, Brendon’s companions have noticed the change in him. None of them are around the apartment enough for them to really say anything, but they’ve seen him in his new clothes and they know he’s working instead of doing his mission. Most Sundays they all show up alongside him at the church and no one ever says anything about each others’ indiscretions.

One night, when Brendon’s stopped by the apartment after work and showered there since no one was home upstairs, Elder Mathis catches him on his way out. Brendon’s heart is in his throat, because if Mathis saw him with Ryan, who knows how this might go.

Mathis just gives him a grudging smile. “You look happier, Urie,” he says. “Good for you.”

Brendon isn’t stupid. He knows he can’t keep being this happy. He knows something will happen, eventually. He’ll get caught or he’ll have to tell his parents. Ryan will find someone else or get bored with him. He won’t be able to support himself and he’ll have to crawl back to his family, begging for forgiveness.

If this is all just going to end in disaster, he wants to take advantage of it. He wants to have as much fun as he can before it’s all over.

That night he and Spence bake cookies and eat dough until they’re both sick, then make Ryan and Jon do the actual baking part. Brendon fights with Ryan over whether they’re watching Donnie Darko or Aladdin and compromise on I Heart Huckabee’s. When Brendon complains about his aching feet, Jon gives him the most amazing foot rub. Ryan doesn’t make Jon stop; he doesn’t even seem to mind.

Maybe Brendon has low expectations or maybe being raised a Mormon has just made him boring, but it’s the perfect evening. When he and Ryan go to bed, it’s better than before. Every time is better than before.

When they first had sex, Brendon sort of felt like he could have been anyone making Ryan feel good. Now, when Ryan looks at him and there’s something in his eyes that makes Brendon’s stomach flip, makes him move faster to meet Ryan’s thrusts.

The words I love you are almost past Brendon’s lips before he realises he isn’t sure that’s the truth. He isn’t sure it’s what he really feels. He comes in a rush, clamping his mouth shut tightly so nothing slips out by accident. Ryan falls asleep quickly, arms wrapped around Brendon like a spider and Brendon thinks, even if it is the truth, it’s better if he doesn’t say anything.

It will hurt less, in the end.

Brendon takes Ryan out to an early dinner before band practice, chattering non-stop about this girl at work who’s driving everyone crazy, and about how he thinks he might like to go to beauty school instead of college but his parents will flip. It’s sweet, the way Brendon’s trying to distract him from thoughts of practice, but inevitably conversation leads that way.

“Jon thinks I was too hard on Jesse last time,” Ryan says over dessert.

Brendon bites his lip, toying with his spoon. “Jesse’s got a good voice,” he says. There’s something about the way he says it, something off, but Ryan can’t figure out what.

Because Jesse does have a good voice. A very good voice. Maybe not an excellent voice, but he’s got that stage presence Pete was looking for. “Once he figures out what you want, it’ll be awesome.” Ryan squeezes Brendon’s hand in thanks, but can’t really bring himself to say anything in response.

“So Brendon and I have been putting together some new arrangements,” Ryan says, when Jesse arrives that evening. “Maybe if we tried with his accompaniment it will work itself out.”

Jesse just glares at Brendon, which Ryan does not get. Jesse has a lot of animosity towards him for no reason Ryan can understand. “So your boyfriend’s part of the band, now?” he asks.

Ryan opens his mouth without anything to really say to that, and closes it again quickly. “Well, can you play the piano?” he finally asks.

“No,” Jesse mutters. “Whatever. Let’s do this.”

They start with Lying (Ryan had skipped class one rainy Tuesday afternoon to stay in bed with Brendon and Brendon had made him come up with names for most of the songs, Ryan flipping through magazines and perusing his bookshelf for inspiration while Brendon laughed and teased him mercilessly) and Ryan has to admit that Jesse’s voice is appropriately sexy for the tone of the song.

He catches Jesse glaring fiercely at Brendon and looks, trying to figure out what the problem is, but Brendon is concentrating on his hands moving over the keys, silently mouthing along with the words.

By the time they get to Build God Then We’ll Talk, however, Ryan’s ready to punch something. Jesse’s sort of at the top of the list because he’s not listening to anything Ryan says about how he wants the songs sung.

“If you have some perfect way they’re supposed to be sung, why aren’t you singing them?” Jesse challenges, playing idly with the strings of his guitar.

Ryan bites the inside of his cheek so hard he swears he tastes blood and grits out, “I’m not a singer.”

“Yeah, and I am,” Jesse answers back. “And these words are ridiculous. Who fucking sings about formaldehyde?”

Brendon clears his throat and begins tapping out the melody Ryan’s been talking about on the piano, in just the right rhythm. “Like that, maybe,” Brendon whispers.

Spencer’s eyes narrow in speculation and Jesse’s expression is pretty murderous. When Jesse sings it next, though, it’s right. He still isn’t hitting the high notes, but Ryan will take this one step at a time.

They take a break and Jon orders pizza. Jesse sits at one end of the sofa, bent over his guitar, working out the beginning of Time to Dance and butchering it so badly that Ryan wants to cover his ears or get up and walk out.
Ryan can’t see this ever coming together how he wants it to, how he’s imagined so many times. He can tell from the looks Jon and Spencer keep giving him that he’s being crazy, that he’s expecting too much, that Jesse’s as good as they’re going to get, and if Ryan keeps pushing, Jesse’s going to leave.

Brendon touches his back and Ryan jerks away from it because he doesn’t want to be comforted right now. He’s a little busy watching his artistic vision crumble before his eyes and wonders if maybe Pete Wentz is laughing somewhere at him. Maybe Pete saw Ryan for the pathetic little wannabe he’s turned out to be.

“Hey,” Brendon says and Ryan lifts his head, but Brendon’s talking to Jesse. “Hey, can I maybe try something?”

Jesse sneers at him. “What are you gonna do?” And, okay, so maybe Brendon can’t actually help, because if Ryan can’t manage to get across what’s in his own head, he doesn’t know how Brendon can hope to do it. All the same, something in Ryan snarls at the way Jesse’s treating Brendon. Even if Ryan isn’t actually treating him much better.

“Well, can I just see your guitar?” Brendon persists, voice soft and unthreatening. Jesse holds his guitar jealously to his chest and Ryan sighs and shoves his own guitar at Brendon.

“It works different from a piano, you know,” Jesse spits out and something flares in Brendon’s eyes, powerful enough to take Ryan’s breath away. There’s anger and pride and it’s like Brendon’s a different person, so sure of himself and god it’s sexy.

“Yeah,” Brendon says, voice lower than usual and it makes the hair on the back of Ryan’s neck stand on end. “Thanks. I think I’ve got it.”

Brendon stands up, fingers moving over the strings making little, accidental sounds. Then he straightens up and begins to play the opening perfectly and Ryan thinks, there’s nothing he could do that could surprise me any more, until Brendon opens his mouth and starts to sing. Just in the first line he manages to steal Ryan’s breath, going from the low notes to the high without a hitch, voice powerful and clear and gorgeous.

This is what Pete meant about stage presence, Ryan realises. Everything about Brendon screams rock star-his eyes, piercing and knowing, the sardonic curl of his lip, his inflection of the words, the movement of his hips in time to the beat, which he knows, even without Spencer playing it. Ryan feels it deep, shaking him all the way down to the core because this is what he needed. Brendon’s voice is exactly what Ryan didn’t know he’s always needed.

“What else do you do?” Ryan asks, voice shaky, when Brendon’s voice dies away after finishing the chorus. “Besides piano and bass and guitar, I mean?”

Brendon usually shrugs away his talent like it’s nothing, but right now he just meets Ryan’s gaze head on and answers, “Drums, cello, accordion.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ryan asks.

“You already had a singer and a drummer and a bass player,” Brendon says.

“Yeah,” Jesse interrupts. “Glad you realise that.”

“Shut up,” Ryan snaps. “We were auditioning you, okay? You just fucking failed.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” Jesse says. “Jon and I saw Pete last week. He thinks I’m your singer and he was pretty okay with that.”

“Yeah, well, amazingly enough, I don’t give a shit what Pete Wentz thinks. This is my fucking band,” Ryan says, fighting to keep his voice low and even. “And I think Brendon’s my singer.”

“Jon, man, help me out here,” Jesse says. He looks about five seconds from throwing his guitar down and jumping at Brendon’s throat. Ryan’s tense all over, waiting for it. He could do with a good fight just about now.

Jon looks at Ryan and Jesse in turn, and then at Brendon, who he gives the tiniest hint of a smile. “Sorry, Jesse,” he says. “I mean, it’s Ryan’s call when it comes down to it, but even if it wasn’t…I think Brendon’s better suited for us.”

Ryan lets himself forget about what an asshole Jon is for a few minutes and is profoundly grateful to have him as a friend.

“Better suited for your whiny, emo bullshit? Yeah, you’re probably right,” Jesse says. He scrambles around for his coat and his guitar case. “I can’t believe I wasted my time on you assholes.”

“Brendon,” Ryan says, in the silence that follows after Jesse’s slammed his way out the front door, “you better be my fucking singer.” Spencer twirls his drumstick, watching them with a pensive expression. Jon looks like there’s a smile threatening to break out over his face.

“Ryan,” Brendon says, fast and urgent, “I wasn’t trying to show off. I wasn’t trying to show Jesse up. I didn’t want to take his…” he stops and Ryan knows immediately that Brendon did want to take his place.

“Brendon,” Ryan says, with affection and exasperation. He wraps his arms around Brendon’s waist, pulling him close and giving him a quick, hard kiss. “You’re an idiot. Tell me you’re my singer.”

Brendon hesitantly puts his arms over Ryan’s shoulders. “If you…if you really want me to…” Gone is the cocky, seductive man who sang Ryan’s words. It’s just Brendon, small and unsure and beautiful and Ryan feels his heart tripping over itself, beating faster, and he thinks, I’m in love with him, oh my god.

“We really want you to be,” Ryan says and Spencer gives Brendon one of his blinding, beautiful smiles and says, “We really do, Brendon.” Ryan isn’t even jealous of Jon wrapping Brendon in a huge bear hug and welcoming him to the band, officially.
“Now,” Ryan says, gathering all their attention. “Let’s try all those songs again.”

Jon groans and Spencer laughs, but when Brendon sings with them it all falls into place. Brendon has understood all the things Ryan tried to explain to Jesse. There isn’t even a doubt in Ryan’s mind anymore. With Brendon as their frontman, they are going to be famous.

“Why didn’t you tell me you could sing?” Ryan asks that night, when they’re alone in his room.

Brendon seems to understand that the question is different from before. More. He gets up on his knees on the bed and he’s roughly the same height as Ryan still standing. “I know how important this is for you,” Brendon whispers, cupping Ryan’s face in his hands. “I didn’t want to mess it up. No matter how badly I wanted it.”

“Brendon, I…” Ryan says, and has to stop because there’s only one way he knows how to finish that sentence and he refuses to say it. He kisses Brendon. He’s grown accustomed to the sweetness and hesitance of Brendon’s touch; he’s grown to long for it.

It not that Ryan isn’t a romantic person, because he is. He’s just had enough bad experiences that have led him to believe that indulging his romantic side only leads to getting hurt. Yet, something about Brendon made it difficult to think of this as just sex, even at the very beginning.

When he has Brendon beneath him, shaking and clinging, whispering his name, Ryan thinks that no matter how this whole thing between them began, it isn’t a mistake. “Brendon,” he whispers, when he’s close and he can feel Brendon is, too. Brendon opens his eyes and even though Ryan can’t bring himself to say it, he thinks maybe Brendon can see it anyway.

The first time Jon fucked him, Spencer thought he would never want anyone else ever again. Jon was slow and tender, hands on Spencer’s hips grounding him, making him feel owned. Spencer had known that gay sex was sort of inevitable for him, with his feelings for Jon and Ryan, but he’d never expected to love it, to spend long hours in class or while Jon was at work daydreaming about what new ways they could try it when they were both home.

This lasts about a week. A week of delirious happiness, even if Spencer’s a little sore by the end of it. Ryan glares at them a lot but Brendon is so sweet about the whole thing, so indulgent. When they go out together and Spencer is distracted and dreamy, Brendon doesn’t call him on it, and even repeats himself five times over until it sinks into Spencer’s brain.

It’s just that Spencer’s never really had this sort of relationship before. Girlfriends, yes, and everything except the actual fucking part of fucking. He figures, with all the shit he’s had to put up with, listening to Ryan’s failed relationships and sexual escapades, he’s entitled to some fun of his own.

So he has a week. Most of his afternoons are spent with Brendon who is a ridiculous spaz when he’s off his meds, but more than that he’s clever and bitingly funny. Spencer gets why Ryan’s actually trying with this relationship.

Then they have practice and there’s Brendon, singing his heart out. As if that wasn’t enough, there’s the way Jon’s looking at him. With a painful, naked hunger in his eyes and Spencer wants to be angry, but mostly he’s just resigned. Because nothing can be normal for them. He can’t even have this one thing, and he was stupid to think he could, when he and Jon admitted from the start that they both wanted Ryan.

Spencer rolls on his side that night when Jon tries to touch him and wallows in his guilt and anger and betrayal for about a day before Brendon comes in to check on him, crawling into his bed.

“Spence,” Brendon asks, curling up close to him and brushing Spencer’s hair back from his face. “Are you okay? You need anything?” Spencer hears the concern in Brendon’s voice and looks at his big, worried eyes and thinks, fuck, me too.

It doesn’t really make anything better. It’s just one more thing that Spencer wants that he isn’t allowed to have. In fact, it almost makes things worse because the need he feels for each of them is different.

Yes, he loves them all, and wants them all, but it’s Ryan’s familiarity and, yes, his bitchiness and his complexity. It’s the way Jon makes Spencer’s heart beat faster and his palms go sweaty and how Jon always knows just what Spencer needs and wants to give it to him, whether Spencer’s willing to accept it or not. It’s Brendon’s unassuming nature and his smile, whether happy or sad or mischievous and the easy affection he gives.

Spencer finally finds his voice and says, “I’m fine, Brendon.” He cups Brendon’s cheek in his hand, brushing his thumb over the high sweep of Brendon’s cheekbone.

Brendon’s smile is sad right now, and maybe a little knowing. He puts his hand over Spencer’s, holding it in place. “It’ll get better,” Brendon says, and Spencer is convinced that Brendon knows exactly why he’s upset, every little aspect of it. Then Brendon presses a kiss to Spencer’s palm and gets up and they don’t talk about it any more.

It does get better. Spencer isn’t the wallowing type-that’s more Ryan’s speed. Spencer is stronger than all of this bullshit. He can’t really fix it to his liking, but he will do what he can. When Jon doesn’t come to his room that night, Spencer goes to his.

“So,” Spencer says and Jon watches him warily, like he doesn’t know what’s coming, but he knows it isn’t good. “Brendon.” Jon’s eyes close off and Spencer sighs and sits on the edge of the futon. “I didn’t come to fight with you. Look, we can either let this fuck us up, or we can deal with it.”

“Deal with it?” Jon echoes.

Spencer feels so far away from him and it’s stupid, when he’s never been closer to another human being than he has been to Jon, this past week. He crawls closer and it’s such a relief when Jon opens his arms and pulls Spencer close.

“You know,” Spencer says, “when I was a little kid, everyone made it sound easy. You fell in love with one person and you were happy for the rest of your life, and by the time I was six, I knew that Ryan was that person for me.

“Then in high school Ryan started sleeping with all these people and I told myself I just had to be patient. People say it’s normal to date a lot of people before you find the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. So I started dating people too and it was okay because I could tell Ryan wasn’t in love.

“Then we met you, Jon Walker, and I knew it was different right from the start. I’ve been so fucked up over this, trying to figure out what Ryan felt and what you felt and trying to tell myself that I didn’t love you both because that was impossible. It felt like an easy out, to say I loved you both, rather than just deciding. Like, I mean, people who cheat, who say they can’t choose. That makes me so angry. I didn’t want to be like that.

“I think I get it now. I mean, I don’t think this is normal, but I love the three of you and it isn’t an easy out. It’s the most fucking difficult thing I’ve ever done. Maybe I’ll stop loving them, but I don’t think I ever will, and you deserve to know that no matter what I feel for them, I’m always going to be happy with you. No matter what you feel for them.”

“Spencer,” Jon says. He tips Spencer’s face back, covering his mouth in a possessive kiss. Every kiss from Jon still makes Spencer feel dizzy and weak in the best way possible. Jon’s hands fumble between them and Spencer helps, struggling to get out of his clothes as quickly as possible.

Spencer reaches for the nightstand, searching blindly in the drawer, and manages to get his hand around a string of condoms and the lube. Even after a week of doing this every day, sometimes several times a day, Spencer’s body isn’t entirely used to it.

There’s a little twinge of pain each time Jon slides inside, but Spencer likes the edge of it. He hopes it never goes away. Jon tells him how tight he is, how good it feels, and Spencer wants it to always be so good.

This time Spencer rolls Jon beneath him and climbs on top. Spencer actually prefers it when Jon takes control, but he knows Jon likes it this way. He rolls the condom down Jon’s cock and covers it in lube, pumping his fist a couple times as Jon thrusts his hips into it. Usually there’s more foreplay, but Spencer just wants Jon inside him, now, and Jon isn’t putting up any fight.

Jon grabs Spencer’s hips to steady him when he begins to sink down over Jon’s cock, every inch a delicious burn. Jon doesn’t have to say anything. Spencer can see it all over his face, his expression verging on reverence. Spencer’s hands flex over Jon’s chest and he begins to move, rocking slowly.

When Spencer rolls his hips, Jon’s eyes roll back in his head and he squeezes hard enough to make new bruises over the ones that are fading on Spencer’s hips. It makes Spencer want to move faster, but he goes slower instead, bending to press their lips together. Jon meets his kiss eagerly, one hand sinking into Spencer’s hair, tilting his head to get deeper.

Jon reaches between them and wraps his hand around Spencer, jerking in time with the lazy thrust of their tongues and they come like that, just easy, unhurried movements and Spencer’s thighs are shaking from the effort by the end, but it’s totally worth it. He doesn’t try to muffle the sounds he makes, high and trembling and Jon’s eyes light up with possessiveness and he follows Spencer, holding his hips and thrusting up hard once, twice, and moans Spencer’s name.

Later, when Jon has Spencer tucked close, spooning him from behind, placing wet kisses across Spencer’s shoulder blade, Spencer has to ask, “Do you think it’ll get better?”

Jon hums and brushes back Spencer’s hair to get at his neck. “I think it will get easier,” he answers. “I think no matter what happens it won’t change how I feel about you.”

What does change, however, is Ryan. It isn’t even a subtle shift. Spencer isn’t even sure what sparked it, but now, instead of being reserved and cold about his relationship with Brendon (at least in public), he’s being affectionate all over the place-holding Brendon’s hand, hands in Brendon’s pockets, playing with Brendon’s hair or kissing his neck and ear, making out with him in the booth when they go out for dinner.

If Spencer didn’t know any better, he’d think that Ryan’s doing it on purpose. But there’s something really unaffected about the way Ryan’s acting with Brendon that just makes Spencer feel guilty about ever doubting Ryan’s affection in the first place. He’s acting like he’s in love.

Spencer believes Jon when he says it will get easier. He just wishes it would happen faster.

Part Seven