Fic: Fear of Flying 4/4 (and notes)
Brendon knew it was going to end pretty horribly. He just wasn’t sure when. For the first week or two, he saw disaster coming around every corner. That first night, the entire train ride to Panic!, Brendon couldn’t help but imagine what would happen when he arrived, how Spencer would tell him it was all a huge mistake and that it would be better if Brendon just left and they never saw each other again.
Except then one week became two became a month. They didn’t have a lot of time for actual dating. Most nights they found a few minutes before the dinner rush at Panic! then went back to Brendon’s apartment or Spencer’s townhouse and got way less sleep than they needed.
The first time Brendon brought out his papers at Spencer’s place, he thought Spencer would kick him out. His last boyfriend, back when he’d been working on his Ph.D., had always been angry when Brendon came over only to work on his thesis, saying he shouldn’t have bothered. Spencer just offered Brendon his office and ordered them Chinese.
It turned out Spencer had a drum kit in his office, which took Brendon about two hours to notice. Spencer blushing and explaining about his and Ryan’s prep school era band was maybe the most adorable thing Brendon had ever seen. Spencer refused to actually play it but Brendon was determined to change his mind someday.
They were both too busy on the anniversary of their first month to do anything special. Brendon didn’t usually mark such small occasions anyway. If they made it to six months, or a year, that might be something to celebrate, but he didn’t hold out hope. When he got to work that day, though, there was a small box of handmade chocolate truffles in different fruit flavours waiting in his locker.
Brendon waited until after dinner to say anything, but he knew the others could tell he was in a good mood. He couldn’t stop smiling all night and kept playing upbeat numbers. Gabe and Bill shot him smirks and Jon had said that he should get laid regularly forever, because it did wonders for his mood.
Normally it bothered Brendon to share details of his romantic relationships with others, but there was no privacy or decency at Panic! about such things, and Brendon had found he didn’t mind. He was actually, perplexingly, proud of managing to begin this whole thing with Spencer, and he didn’t mind the others teasing him in a good-natured sort of way.
After the restaurant closed, Brendon went into the back and found Spencer in his office. “You didn’t have to give me anything, you know,” Brendon said.
Spencer looked up and set aside his paperwork. He smiled, but it was tempered by tiredness. “Yeah, I did.”
Brendon closed the door, already anticipating what the others would say, but Spencer leaned back in his seat, face lighting up subtly. Brendon was starting to understand how to read it. “But I didn’t get you anything,” he said.
“I’m sure you can make it up to me,” Spencer said, pushing his chair back when Brendon came around the desk.
“Are you propositioning me?” Brendon asked, aiming for affront with his tone. It came out more giggly. “I do believe that is sexual harassment.”
Spencer grabbed him by the hips and pulled Brendon close. “Yeah, go complain to Pete about it.”
Brendon leaned down for a kiss, drawing it out longer than he’d intended. “You wanna come over?” he asked. More often than not, they ended up at Brendon’s apartment because of Bogart. Emily was pretty cool, but he didn’t want to piss her off by taking advantage of her help.
Spencer nodded. “Give me twenty?”
Brendon didn’t mind spending extra time at Panic!, especially after hours. He loved the atmosphere and low lighting; there was a feeling of calm that helped soothe Brendon at the end of the day. He would often take requests from the staff while they cleaned up, when waiting for Spencer.
The streets were mostly empty on the drive home and Brendon closed his eyes, resting his head against the cool glass of the window. Spencer always had his iPod hooked up to the stereo, and right now it was playing something by Neutral Milk Hotel. It felt kind of perfect and domestic, and Brendon wanted to commit all the details to memory so he could have them to look back on when Spencer finally decided he’d had enough.
“Hey,” Spencer said, when the car came to a stop at a red light. “Do you have any plans for next weekend?”
It was the 4th of July on Friday and both the centre and the restaurant were closed for the holiday. Frank had said something about a picnic and fireworks in the park, but Brendon had secretly been hoping Spencer would have something planned, and had declined.
“Why,” Brendon teased. “What did you have planned?”
Spencer shot him an exasperated smile. “My parents invited us to their place for the weekend. Their house is up north on the lake, and they always get together with the neighbours to do a big firework show over the water.”
Brendon’s heart dropped into his stomach. “I can’t go to your parents’ place! Spencer, the first and only time they ever met me, I flipped out on Ryan. I told you guys to fuck off. They like Ryan.”
“They love Ryan,” Spencer corrected. “Which is why they understand that it is sometimes necessary to tell him to fuck off.”
“Spencer,” Brendon whined. “They’re going to hate me. I saw the way your mom and sisters were all like ‘oh, that’s him,’ when Ryan introduced me. They probably think I’m some uncultured idiot. They’re probably going to warn me away from you.”
“Jesus Christ, Brendon, we aren’t in some stupid movie. They were like that when Ryan introduced you because I’d told Crystal and Jackie that I liked you. And they thought you were hot.”
Brendon blushed and ducked his head. He wanted to apologise for overreacting, but he was so bad at that. “Look,” Spencer said, and put a hand on Brendon’s knee. Brendon stared at it for a moment before managing to cover it with his own hand. “I know Ryan didn’t give you the greatest perspective, but my family aren’t snobs, and they want another chance to meet you.”
Brendon squirmed uncomfortably and Spencer sighed and took his hand back. They made the rest of the ride in silence, and when Spencer pulled into Brendon’s parking lot, Brendon expected Spencer to have changed his mind about coming up. They’d made it to a month. That was something, right?
But Spencer parked the car and turned off the engine and said to him, “I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do. So, you know, don’t worry. We can do something here. I think Greta said something about a firework show on the Pier.”
Objectively, Brendon knew this was where he was supposed to say he’d changed his mind, but the thought of meeting Spencer’s family again filled him with dread. He nodded miserably. “I’m sorry, Spence. I just…I’m no good with people.”
Spencer shrugged, and he looked unhappy, which just made Brendon even more miserable. “You’ll get better,” Spencer said, but Brendon wasn’t sure either of them believed it.
Later in bed though, when Brendon’s anxiety over the whole thing was keeping him awake, Spencer pulled him close. It was too hot for cuddling, but Brendon was too thankful for the touch to care. “Stop worrying about it,” he murmured sleepily. “I’m not going anywhere.” And like that, sleeping wasn’t so difficult.
~*~
Miraculously, they somehow made it to two months. Spencer hired a new chef to train for Greta’s position so that Greta could share the title of Head Chef with him, freeing up everyone’s schedules a little more. It would still be another month at least before training was far enough along for Spencer to regularly have a second day off each week, but Brendon found himself looking forward to the coming month rather than dreading it.
Monday nights they had started going along with everyone else to Gabe and Bill’s parties, since Brendon had Tuesdays off from the centre. The first time he’d been nervous, but it had actually been very laid-back, with lots of booze, poor choice in movies, and more often than not, drunk scrabble with Bill, Pete, and Greta.
Gabe would, without fail, come along to sit in Bill’s lap, saying he was on Bill’s team, and go from “helping” to somehow developing his own row of seven tiles and insisting that the things he put down on the board were real words. This had led to Pete establishing an “English only” rule.
After the third Monday, Brendon was actually a bit sad that their schedule kept them from going more often, but Spencer was such a zombie on Tuesdays that he didn’t want to ask for more. It was nice, though, when Spencer would come back from the market and tumble into bed for a few hours longer. Brendon was usually awake by then, but he liked to stay in bed with a book or his work.
Spencer’s birthday was just after their three-month anniversary, and they hadn’t really discussed it, but Brendon had a few ideas for how to celebrate when he received a call from an unknown number. Normally he’d just let it ring to voicemail and decide then whether or not to call back, so he had no reason why he picked it up this time saying dubiously, “Hello?”
“Brendon?” a woman’s voice asked. “This is Ginger, dear.”
“Oh,” Brendon said, wondering if he could pretend to be going through a tunnel or that his battery was dying, or something.
“I’m sure you and Spencer have something planned for the second, but the family is having a little get-together on Wednesday and of course we want you to be there,” Ginger said. She sounded pleasant enough, but still. It didn’t change how things were.
“That’s-that’s really nice of you, but I wouldn’t want to intrude. It sounds like a family thing, and-”
“It’s all very casual,” Ginger went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “No need to dress up or bring anything. Anton is going to grill.”
Anton, Brendon recalled, was the Smith’s cook. They had a cook. Because they couldn’t grill for themselves. Brendon resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. “Mrs. Smith-”
“Ginger, dear,” she corrected.
“Right,” Brendon said, avoiding the issue altogether. “I am so sorry about the incident at Ryan’s party.”
Ginger made a distracted noise. “The girls will probably want a game of football, so I’d bring a change of clothing, if I were you. They can be quite ruthless.”
“I just-I think the whole thing with Ryan just proved that I’m not really-”
“Brendon,” Ginger said, suddenly serious. “I tend not to interfere with my children’s personal affairs. However, we are a close family, and Spencer seeing someone who insists on avoiding us will make things…difficult. It would be nice if we could get to know one another better. And perhaps after that happens, you will come to understand that no one blames you for the incident with Ryan. Not even Ryan himself.”
Brendon was silent, his heart pounding, and after a moment Ginger said, “Now, can I mark you down as a ‘yes?’”
He thought of how much it would mean to Spencer for Brendon to come, and it was his birthday. Didn’t he deserve a little effort on Brendon’s part? And if Spencer’s parents were sincere in their interest to know him, it might be nice. Better than his own parents, at any rate..
“Yes,” he said.
“Terrific,” Ginger said brightly. “Jackie’s coming up from the city. She can pick you up so it can be a surprise for Spencer.”
“Okay,” Brendon said, then, “Thanks.”
He could imagine Ginger’s smile, as bright as Spencer’s, when she said, “Thank you, Brendon.”
~*~
Brendon made a birthday cake for September 2nd. The thing was, he couldn’t make a cake from a pre-made mix-Spencer probably hadn’t had anything made out of a store mix his entire life, and besides, he deserved more. Brendon’s skills at making a cake from scratch, however, were not so much. It came out looking lumpy, and the top piece fell apart when he took it out of the pan. It still tasted good, though; he’d used his mother’s recipe so it was sweet without being too rich, and moist. Plus, once he dressed it up with the hazelnut icing, Spencer maybe wouldn’t be able to tell how badly he’d messed up.
In the end, it hardly mattered, because as soon as Spencer saw the cake he’d pinned Brendon to the counter and got down on his knees, while Brendon laughingly protested that it wasn’t his birthday.
“My parents are having a thing tomorrow,” Spencer said later, when they actually got around to eating the cake, Bogart sitting attentively at their feet in case they felt like sharing.
“Mmm,” Brendon said, noncommittally.
Spencer’s lips twisted up in a frown and he poked at the icing on his plate with his fork. Brendon wanted it to be a surprise, like Ginger had said, but he couldn’t bear making Spencer miserable on his birthday. He sighed. “Okay, look, you have to act surprised tomorrow.”
“Okay?” Spencer said, arching a brow.
Brendon rolled his eyes. “Your sister is picking me up after you leave tomorrow.”
Spencer let out a startled burst of laughter. “You’re coming?”
“You have to act surprised,” Brendon repeated.
Spencer kissed him hard, biting at Brendon’s bottom lip until it stung. He muttered something unintelligible against Brendon’s mouth. Their plates were left forgotten on the coffee table and they stumbled blindly into Brendon’s bedroom, kissing all the way. Spencer pulled impatiently at Brendon’s shirt and Brendon broke away to get naked and catch his breath and fell back on the bed, waiting.
Undressed, Spencer crawled up the bed, leaning Brendon back against the mattress and bending to give him another possessive kiss. Brendon fumbled for the lube and condoms on the nightstand, passing the latter to Spencer and smearing the lube over his own fingers.
Spencer sat back to watch. Brendon didn’t really get it, but Spencer was seriously into watching Brendon finger himself open. He made a show of it, slick fingers circling his opening before barely pushing inside. It wasn’t the same as when Spencer did it-his fingers were thicker and longer and knew just how to drive Brendon crazy. Doing it to himself the angle was weird when he pushed deeper and stretched his fingers open.
After only a few seconds, Spencer knocked Brendon’s hand away impatiently, sinking back down. He lined himself up and pushed in in one long, deep stroke that made Brendon’s eyes roll back in his head and his toes curl.
Brendon had, over the years, had many lovers. A handful of them had even been really good at sex and he was totally a fan of that. It was different with Spencer, though. The other guys had all liked showing off so that even when it was good, it was never about Brendon. Spencer didn’t seem to know how to do it any other way. Sometimes it was too intense, the way Spencer liked to look Brendon in the eye as he fucked him, when Spencer asked what he wanted, what he needed. He’d never been shy in bed before, but there were nights when he felt that way with Spencer.
Tonight Spencer was rough, yet beneath it there was tenderness, and it made Brendon’s throat ache with some unnamed emotion. He could only hold on and arch up to meet Spencer’s hungry kisses. His orgasm took him entirely by surprise, the shuddery pleasure spiking suddenly. Spencer made a startled, pleased sound, and didn’t last much longer himself.
Brendon was all but asleep by the time Spencer went to use the bathroom and came back with a washcloth. Brendon rolled over to spoon up behind him, clasping his hands over Spencer’s chest. “I didn’t get to give you your present,” he mumbled sleepily.
Spencer laid his hand over Brendon’s and tangled their fingers together. “Yeah, you did,” he said, and Brendon was too sex-addled and tired to even wonder what Spencer meant. He pressed his face into Spencer’s hair and breathed deep the smell of sweat and sex and shampoo that he’d already grown accustomed to, and fell asleep.
~*~
Brendon wasn’t sure what to expect of Jackie. Spencer had shown him pictures, so Brendon knew that Jackie was the one with short blonde hair. She was going to law school at Northwestern, but was interning in the city, and planned to work at their father’s firm when she graduated.
When he got home from work, Brendon changed his outfit at least six different times. Spencer had dressed in jeans and a button-down, but Brendon worried that whatever he chose would be too casual or too cheap-looking, or just plain wrong. He ended up stealing one of Spencer’s button-downs, figuring if Spencer was wearing it, it was safe. Then he worried if it was presumptuous to show up in Spencer’s clothing and took it off.
Jackie was supposed to show up any minute, and he wanted to be ready and waiting, so he grabbed the first t-shirt in his closet, threw on his Never Say Never hoodie and ran down two flights of stairs to the street level.
Though Spencer most often drove his BMW, he also had a Porsche and a Mercedes. Brendon was half expecting Jackie to show up in a fucking Ferrari or something, but instead she pulled up in a tiny Honda hybrid. She waved at him eagerly and Brendon made his feet carry him to the curb.
She looked a lot different from how she had at Ryan’s engagement party-still pretty and polished in her designer jeans and camisole, but more like a college co-ed than a millionaire heiress. “Hey, ready to go?”
Brendon nodded, swallowing the rising bile in his throat and buckling himself in. Jackie flashed him a smile before zipping back into traffic. Her radio was playing softly and she tapped her fingers against the steering wheel to the beat. When she caught Brendon looking, she gave him a sheepish look.
“Sorry, I know it’s annoying. It drives my boyfriend insane. You can change the CD, if you want.”
“No,” Brendon said quickly. “I like Lady Gaga.”
“Oh, cool,” Jackie said, and turned it up a little. “I thought, maybe…Spence said how you liked a lot of classical stuff-”
“I like a lot of different music,” he interrupted, and then wanted to shoot himself, because seriously? Way to reinforce that he was a manner-less asshole.
Jackie didn’t seem to mind. “Yeah, well, Crystal and Mom are always on my ass about my musical taste.” She gave Brendon a wry smirk that looked like Spencer’s. “So, hey, I can’t believe you’re that Brendon. Like, we’d all heard Spencer talk about you, but when he said you worked at the Hale Centre, I was like, small world. My friend Keltie works there, and she was telling me about this guy Brendon who played all these instruments.” She pulled a silly face. “Of course I didn’t put it together.”
“You know Keltie?” Brendon asked, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.
“Well, yeah. I mean, I know everyone at the centre. Okay, the people who’ve been there at least a couple years-I haven’t been to one of the galas since undergrad.”
Brendon assumed she meant the annual fundraising gala the centre threw every winter. He’d been to last year’s after working at the centre less than a month, and spent most of the evening hiding in his office. He’d been worried his awkwardness would be enough to lose the centre money, rather than gain it.
Jackie caught his look and said, “My grandma was friends with Rebecca Hale. Our family has always donated. I’m surprised Spencer didn’t tell you.”
Brendon wasn’t really surprised, but he was a bit confused. He wondered how long the drive was to the Smith’s home; he’d feel better once he spoke to Spencer about it.
They rode in silence for a few minutes, and Jackie got on the highway going north. It was still early enough for them to just miss afternoon rush hour. Brendon stared out the window at the skyline blurring past and tried to think of something to say so that Jackie wouldn’t see him for the freak he was.
“Spencer says you’re from Vegas, too?” Jackie asked in the silence.
“Summerlin,” Brendon confirmed. A little different from the penthouse suite in the middle of the strip that Spencer and his family had lived in.
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
She was trying, Brendon knew, and it was only fair for him to make an effort, too. “Since last November.”
“Jeez, nice timing. The winters here, man. I don’t normally miss Vegas, but…”
Brendon chuckled, remembering the first time he’d experienced the famed Lake Effect, stepping outside his apartment to find it had snowed almost a foot in six hours. “Yeah, uh. I used to get by in Philadelphia by layering my hoodies. Not so much here.”
“Shit, you’re lucky you didn’t die of like, pneumonia or something,” Jackie said, sounding impressed.
“Actually, funny story,” Brendon said, and began to relate to her the story of his Christmas vacation spent in urgent care. The bills from that had been part of his reason for looking for extra work.
They fell into a fairly easy conversation from there, and Brendon was surprised by how brief the trip was. Twenty minutes after getting onto the highway they exited and ten minutes later they were pulling into a private, gated driveway. The trees lining the drive were just starting to change their colour, and beyond, the lawn stretched out seemingly forever in one direction, to the lake on the other.
Brendon had thought, having seen Spencer’s home and lifestyle, that he was prepared for this. He so wasn’t. The mansion was huge. If he had to guess, Brendon would imagine there were over forty rooms in the place. He didn’t really know much about architecture, but it looked like something out of northern Europe with its multilayered mansard roof, arched windows, and stone façade climbed by ivy.
Jackie drove around the curve of the paved driveway to the front of the house where a man came out to meet them and take the car. Brendon followed her up the path to the house, unable to help but look all around him at the decadence. The garden was full of exotic flowers still in bloom and sculptures that looked like they belonged in museums.
The inside was even more impressive than the outside, and Brendon would have paid better attention to all the gorgeous artwork and marble floors and high ceilings with mosaic skylights if he hadn’t been having a panic attack.
They came out on a sprawling patio where an intimate canopy had been set up and Spencer was laughing with Ginger and Ryan. Brendon didn’t really notice whether or not Spencer did a good job of acting surprised. He was too busy concocting an escape plan. Spencer excused himself and took Brendon by the arm, leading him into a busy kitchen and down a set of stairs to the wine cellar.
“You okay?” he asked.
Brendon looked around the room in muted astonishment. “There have to be, like over a thousand bottles of wine in here,” he said dumbly.
Spencer glanced around them impatiently. “Is this about the house?”
“The house?” Brendon demanded. “This isn’t a house, Spencer, this is a fucking-fucking castle. And why didn’t you tell me your family donates money to the centre?”
“I…” Spencer stopped, obviously caught off-guard. “I didn’t want to tell you, once I realised where you worked. I thought you might think I was just saying it to impress you or something.”
Brendon distantly thought it was kind of sweet, but he couldn’t really feel much over the pounding of his heart in his head. “Hey,” Spencer said, and kissed Brendon slowly until Brendon couldn’t focus on anything but Spencer’s tongue against his and Spencer’s familiar taste. When they parted, he felt a little less lightheaded. “You gonna be okay?”
“Don’t let go of my hand,” Brendon whispered, and Spencer just squeezed tighter and led Brendon back upstairs.
No one commented on Brendon’s little freak-out, for which he was infinitely grateful. Ryan approached them and Brendon felt himself go tenser, if that was possible. “I see things have resolved themselves,” Ryan said, in an enigmatic way, and Brendon had no idea what he meant, but it didn’t sound mean. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks,” Brendon said blandly.
Ryan shifted uncomfortably and Elaina elbowed him in the ribs. “Look, you can’t have the corner on being socially awkward,” Ryan blurted.
Brendon felt his eyes go wide and Spencer said, “That isn’t an apology, Ross.”
“He’s my best friend, and I’m a little protective, that’s all,” Ryan went on, fussing with his bracelets rather than looking at any of them. “But you seem cool. I mean. You have my approval, or whatever.”
“Wow, that’s a relief,” Brendon muttered dryly, but Ryan caught his eye, and suddenly they were both grinning. He relaxed his hold on Spencer’s hand a little.
“Brendon,” Ginger said, coming over to greet him with a hug that made his shoulders want to climb to his ears. He was very proud of himself for keeping still and even bringing his free hand up briefly to her back. “Let me show you around the gardens.”
“Mom,” Spencer complained. “He doesn’t want to see the gardens.”
“No,” Brendon said, “I would. Thank you, Mrs. Sm-Ginger.” He made his fingers release Spencer’s and followed Ginger along the paved path of the patio and down the stairs to the freshly clipped lawn.
Ginger managed to show him her herb garden, the English garden and was leading him to the heart-shaped hedge maze when Jeffery caught up with them and insisted on showing Brendon his golf course. And maybe Brendon had a skewed perspective, given how formal and distant his own parents had been, but the Smiths weren’t at all how Brendon had imagined they’d be.
Jeffery liked to talk about the old car he was restoring, and when he discovered Brendon was a fan of classic rock began to grill him over Bon Jovi versus Bruce Springsteen. Ginger kept interjecting her opinion based purely on the physical attributes of both. As laid-back as they were, Brendon kept censoring his answers, trying to find a posture of which they would approve. He practically crumpled in relief when they got back to the patio and Spencer.
Dinner was nice and casual. Luckily Ryan, Jackie, and Jeffery were quite happy to carry on the majority of the conversation. They all took it upon themselves to tell Brendon stories about all the crazy stunts Spencer had pulled as a child. Ginger promised that there would be pictures to go along with the embarrassing stories later.
Somewhere in the middle of dessert, Brendon remembered with sudden clarity that moment, now over three months ago, when he’d watched them all dining at Ryan’s engagement party and longed to be a part of it. Jon had told him he had no one to blame for his isolation but himself, and Brendon had never really seen it that way until just now, when he realised he could have had this all along. They hadn’t cared about his job or where he was from. They had tried to welcome him, and he’d been the one fighting it.
I’m going to be better, he told himself with conviction. I’m going to deserve Spencer.
Jeffery finished a story about trying to teach Spencer to drive a manual transmission that involved Spencer’s inability to use a clutch or distinguish between second and third, and ended with them stalled in the middle of an intersection in the middle of Vegas, being propositioned by a hooker.
Brendon repeated his new motto in his head and leaned forward, forcing himself to speak. “Not as bad as when my sister tried to teach me. I almost hit someone’s garage. I ended up driving down the road with her shifting gear, shouting clutch at me every time,” he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spencer looking cautiously pleased that Brendon was willingly engaging in the conversation. His stomach was still uneasy with nerves, but Spencer’s face made him keep talking.
~*~
In October, Brendon switched his day off at the centre from Saturday to Wednesday, so he and Spencer had two days off together in a row.
Brendon had only moved to the city after accepting his job at the centre and he hadn’t had much chance to explore it over the winter and spring. Now he and Spencer spent their days off at various museums and galleries, or hunting out hidden gems of restaurants in the heart of the city. Spencer wasn’t as picky as Brendon had expected he’d be when it came to others’ cooking, and he liked letting someone else do the hard work.
Spencer loved music as much as Brendon did, and most of the same things, too. They were both open to new things, and Patrick was always telling them about new bands and inviting them to shows. Spencer, on the occasion of their four-month anniversary, presented Brendon with season box seats to the symphony.
They were hard to accept; Brendon knew that Spencer was obscenely rich and used to a certain kind of lifestyle, but Brendon didn’t know how to deal with it. Spencer’s tendency to pick up the check at dinner at dinner had led to more than one argument, which usually ended with them going back to their own apartments because they were both seriously stubborn.
Brendon was so used to taking care of himself, he couldn’t imagine letting someone else care for him. He went grudgingly to the first performance only because he couldn’t bear wasting such an exorbitant amount of money by being petulant. By intermission, he realised there was no point in being petulant anymore, and he didn’t put up a fight over making the most out of their box seats for the rest of the season.
It helped that Spencer always got dolled up. Brendon’s favourite was when Spencer wore his traditional tux with its satin-edged lapels and neat bowtie, platinum and sapphire cufflinks flashing whenever he pushed back his hair. As much as Brendon loved the music, perhaps his favourite part of the evening was undressing Spencer afterwards.
At the end of October Frankie had a big birthday-slash-Halloween party and insisted that Brendon bring Spencer. Brendon might have been anxious about it three months ago, but now it seemed really strange that his friends at the centre hadn’t properly met Spencer yet.
Most perplexing was the fact that a lot of people from Panic! were at the party. He got different stories from everyone, but the most reliable said that Ryland and Gabe used to be in a band together, Patrick had been roommates with Frank and his friend Bob, and apparently, both Gabe and Pete had dated Gerard’s younger brother. Brendon thought it might get awkward, but no one seemed to care, least of all the three involved. Pete introduced Alicia to Mikey and said he expected to be part of the wedding party.
Brendon got sick the first week of November and called off both jobs for the day. He had the sort of work ethic that generally didn’t stop, but he wasn’t about to risk the health of the children, nor cause any problems with diners who were put off by his hacking cough and runny nose.
He texted Spencer not to come over, took a hot shower, rubbed Vicks over his chest, and passed out on the sofa with Bogart warming his feet. When he woke up it was dark outside and the light was on in the kitchen. He stumbled in, rubbing his eyes blearily, to find Spencer at the stove.
“What day is it?” he asked, confused, blinking at the clock. It was almost eight in the evening.
Spencer chuckled and pulled him close with one arm, pressing a kiss to his hair. “It’s Monday.”
“What about the restaurant? I thought I told you not to come over,” Brendon groused, voice muffled by Spencer’s shirt.
“If I hadn’t decided to come over myself, Greta and Adam probably would have kicked my ass,” Spencer said. Whatever he was stirring on the stove smelled amazing.
“You shouldn’t let your employees push you around so much,” Brendon teased.
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Spencer muttered. “Go back and lay down. This’ll be ready in a minute.”
“You spoil me too much,” Brendon said.
“It’s sort of in my job description, as your boyfriend,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes.
Brendon still got a little stupid when Spencer used the word “boyfriend,” and he went back into the living room without further argument. Spencer brought in the soup along with a teapot and a bag from the pharmacy with three different medicines, tissues, and cough drops. Brendon sipped a spoonful of the soup and could taste pomegranate, lime, and coriander. Since beginning to date Spencer, Brendon had grown quite good at discerning different flavours in a complex meal.
“Anton used to make that for us when we got sick,” Spencer explained.
Brendon stirred his spoon around for a moment, having an argument with himself in his head before speaking. “My mom used to make us this Hawaiian soup when we were sick. She was from there, you know.” Of course, Spencer didn’t, because Brendon never really spoke of his family.
Spencer was silent for a moment, no doubt startled by Brendon willingly bringing up his family or his past. Then all he said was, “I could learn how to make it.”
Brendon shook his head and swallowed another mouthful of Spencer’s soup. “I’d rather have yours. It has better associations.”
Spencer pulled Brendon up against his side and hid his face in Brendon’s neck. His lips moved against Brendon’s neck in words, and while he made no sound, Brendon’s mind raced with thoughts as to what he might be saying. He felt light-headed, and didn’t know if it was the sickness or something else.
Despite Brendon’s protests, Spencer spent the night and lay close, even though Brendon was burning hot to the touch. The next day, when Brendon was so weak he could barely stand up on his own, Spencer helped him in the shower and waited on him hand and foot all day long. He took care of Bogart and fixed meals and cuddled Brendon while they watched the entire first season of Buffy.
Brendon had never made it past five months in a relationship, and he was nearing that point with Spencer. He’d never before let himself think ahead, or hope for more than what he had in the present, but it was times like this when his head was pillowed on Spencer’s stomach and Spencer was playing with his hair even though it was sweaty and gross, that Brendon wanted to be able to think it in terms of permanence.
~*~
One night at Panic! Spencer suggested bringing Bogart to his place. “Margaret could let him out during the day, and he’d have a yard to run around in,” Spencer said, in this anxious tone.
Really, it hadn’t been much of a question. Brendon had already been feeling guilty about how little time he got to spend with his dog. Even though they more often went to his place, Spencer’s home was closer to Panic!; it would be great for Bogart to be able to run around in the yard whenever he wanted, not just when Brendon had time to take him to the doggie park.
Bogart went a little crazy at first. Brendon was secretly terrified that Bogart would tear the stuffing from one of Spencer’s crazy expensive sofas, or piss on the carpet, or scratch the hardwood floors. Mostly he just ran around like a maniac for a few hours then passed out in the sunlight by the huge windows in the front sitting room.
Once Bogart had settled in at Spencer’s place, Brendon found himself going home to his own apartment less and less. When he did, he felt listless and depressed. Sometimes he made himself spend the night there alone, just to remind himself of what it was like to be alone, so that when Spencer broke up with him, it didn’t come as too much of a shock to be in an empty bed again.
On the Tuesday before Thanksgiving they stayed in bed late, watching the rain outside pound against the French doors. Brendon was still sticky and slightly damp from their unhurried morning sex and Spencer was lying close, tracing patterns on Brendon’s back. He leaned in to press a kiss to Brendon’s shoulder blade and said, “I love you.”
Brendon’s heart did something funny in his chest, surging high and then plummeting. Hot-cold tingles of panic rippled all through him, making his hands feel numb. He thought, I can’t say it, I can’t say it, but entirely without the permission of his brain, his hand reached over his shoulder to grab Spencer’s hand and drag it to his lips.
I can’t, he thought, and he said, “I love you, too.” His eyes stung, and his breathing went erratic, but he meant it. He wanted to say it every minute, almost more than he wanted to hear it. “I love you,” he said, more softly.
He’d never exchanged the words with another person besides his parents and siblings, and he didn’t really know what to expect to follow. The movies and novels always made it seem like some grand declaration, but this felt understated and natural, and maybe that was better.
Spencer wrapped Brendon tighter in his arms and they watched the grey morning in silence.
~*~
Brendon moved into Spencer’s house in January. At the time, he hadn’t been back to his own apartment in almost a month and had more clothes at Spencer’s place than hanging in his own closet.
He’d been rushing around early one morning because he’d forgotten to pick up some piece of music from his apartment and was going to be late, and Spencer was watching him with vague amusement from the bed. Spencer had said, “Move in with me,” and Brendon had paused with one foot in his jeans.
“You practically live here anyway,” Spencer said quickly. “It doesn’t make sense to keep paying rent when you’re never there, and I have plenty of room for all your things. You could turn one of the bedrooms into a music room. The yellow room on the second floor has great acoustics-”
Brendon climbed on the bed, straddling Spencer’s lap. “Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to get all ramble-y when discussing our relationship?” he asked.
Spencer laid a hand over Brendon’s throat, curling his fingers behind his ear. “I really want you to move in,” he said.
Brendon’s heart was pounding wildly; Spencer had to feel it against his palm, but he didn’t comment. He’d stopped worrying daily (hourly) about Spencer breaking up with him, but this…he wanted it so badly, but if something went wrong, then what?
He thought of seeing all his things scattered among Spencer’s, and of telling his family his new address, of somehow making it all a little less temporary. He let out a sigh; he was going to be so late for work.
“You have to let me cover half of the bills,” he said. Spencer nodded quickly. “And I want to do my own laundry.”
“It’s Margaret’s job,” Spencer protested. “I pay her for it.”
“Yeah, well,” Brendon said, with dignity, “my mom stopped doing my laundry when I was twelve. And besides, she can still do your laundry.”
“You know, it would conserve water if you’d just let her do both our laundry together,” Spencer said slyly.
Brendon jabbed a finger at Spencer’s chest and opened his mouth to argue, only to find he didn’t have anything to say. Damn Spencer, knowing all of Brendon’s weaknesses. “And I don’t want any of your bullshit when I’m trying to fucking cook.”
“If you just sifted the flour, first,” Spencer started.
Brendon cut him off with a kiss, laughing as their mouths pressed together. “I love you,” he said, against Spencer’s lips.
“Me too,” Spencer murmured, and rolled them over. Brendon was seriously late for work, but he didn’t have any appointments until after ten, so it was okay.
So Brendon moved in, and things weren’t much different from how they had been, except that Brendon felt more relaxed in general, not having to worry about his apartment. Spencer’s house was at a more central location in the city, and besides the yard there were lots of places to take Bogart on walks, and the yellow room really was perfect for a music room.
Spencer wanted to hire a moving company and Brendon absolutely refused to allow it, or to spend the money. In the end, Brendon rented a moving truck and pretty much everyone from the centre and from Panic! pitched in. Jackie came too, but she and Bill mostly watched and sipped martinis in the backyard.
After all of Brendon’s things had been moved in, Spencer insisted Brendon redecorate the room how he wanted. Brendon might have protested, except that while Spencer’s grandmother had been, from all accounts, a totally kickass woman, her taste in decorating had been a bit too feminine and old-fashioned for his tastes.
They were at an interior decorator’s studio, flipping through a book of wallpaper samples, when Spencer happened upon a pattern for a nursery. It had wide yellow and green stripes with zoo animals and alphabet blocks. Spencer stroked a finger over the textured paper and said, “Did you ever want children?”
“Yes,” Brendon said, automatically and vehemently, before realising that Spencer hadn’t exactly expressed his own desire for them in asking. He bit his lip, ready to retract his statement, or at least modify it.
But Spencer just smiled and said, “Me too.”
“Oh,” Brendon said. His shoulders relaxed and he leaned into Spencer’s side. “That’s good.”
Spencer turned another couple pages of and tapped his finger against a cream and red Asian-themed print. “What do you think of this one for redoing our bedroom?”
Brendon laid his head on Spencer’s shoulder and thought, our bedroom. He waited for the feeling of panic and anxiety that always came when thinking of permanence. It never came.
“It’s perfect,” he said.
fin
Various music links:
What Brendon performs to shut up Pete, Liszt’s Sonata in B Minor, here in four parts. This one is quite long, but really, really worth it. Just be more patient than Pete, okay? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rOSIlXnM7Co
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_ftRDZeqRw&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PdhytVvJqZA&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Id5zPCP9oW8&feature=channel
Chopin’s piano nocturne #19 in E minor. I prefer Val Kilmer’s performance in Tombstone because of the emotion of the piece, but that has people talking over it and the piano being played is badly out of tune. Here is a very nice substitute:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aSzKo2FcS_g
And here’s the Kilmer, if you wanna hear:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Z7ATsISwrU
The more upbeat song he plays, Liszt’s piano etude #3:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v9fo3FoHDBc
Mauro Giuliani grand overture on classical guitar:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0b5LHHwyZw
and etude in D:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=799YNqId7jE
And Carulli’s Siciliana on classical guitar:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9dp8Phgp4vY
Recipes:
The food is mostly from my gourmet dining experience, or my imagination. However, here are a few recipes if you’re interested.
Aubergine Caviar
Poached Pears
Jackfruit Curry
Idil
Eggs with Truffle
The rest are probably too complicated to make at home. IDK, though. Like I said, most of them are things I’ve had in restaurants.
One final disclaimer re: condom use with oil-based lubricants, and safe sex.
I have mentioned my annoyance at people who write unprotected oral sex, then won't let their characters have intercourse without a condom. However, at the same time, I don't think that these two, it being their first time, would have unprotected sex if a condom was on hand, even if they'd done other things unprotected.
Rationally, if you’re going to have safe sex, everything has to be protected. Realistically, that isn't how it happens, and neither straight nor gay people are very smart about it.