Don't cut your hair (Do you think it's gonna make him change?) 1/4
Title: Don't cut your hair (Do you think it's gonna make him change?)
Panic at the Disco, Spencer/Brendon (Ryan/Keltie, Jon/Cassie) 40,000 words, R.
Summary: Set a little while in the future. The band takes a break and Brendon gets bored. Spencer goes with him.
Warnings: Sex. Boys behaving badly. Babies.
Thanks to all the amazing people who read this through as I was writing it, especially sunsetmog, because this started off as a silly email and ended up kind of epic. ♥ And as always to elucreh for making commas work properly. I would be lost (and comma-less) without her. And wordsalone and sweetrecovery! ♥
At some point during his fourth hour of X-Box on Ryan’s floor, Spencer looked up and said, "So is this it?"
There was a long silence from Ryan, who’d been babytalking Hobo for the better part of an hour. "No," said Ryan carefully. "It’s not… It’s not over. I’m writing, you know that. And we’re gonna keep playing and stuff. I just…"
Spencer killed an on-screen zombie with more vicious pleasure than was really called for. "You just proposed to Keltie," he said. "Jon just knocked Cassie up."
"Yeah," said Ryan.
"It’s been eight months," said Spencer. He’d been trying not to bring this up for weeks and weeks, but he was bored and twitchy, and his mom kept asking. "I think after eight months of nothing it’s officially a hiatus. Or officially-"
"Hiatus," said Ryan quickly.
Spencer blew up the side of a building. "Okay," he said. "Hiatus."
--
Sometime around the first tour for the third album Haley called and said, "I can’t do this anymore," and Spencer tried to be surprised. He loved her, but he didn’t see her that much, and what was the point of buying a house and a dog with someone you didn’t see very often? He hung up and he cried on Ryan’s shoulder a little and they went on with the tour and things were pretty much exactly the same, except when they got off tour he spent more time at Ryan’s house than anywhere else.
After the second tour Jon got a phone call that left him shaking a little bit, too, and Spencer was prepared to go out drinking all night to celebrate the single life. Jon shook his head. "I’m gonna be a dad," he said. "I have to go call Wentz."
Ryan and Brendon and Spencer sat in stunned silence for a minute. "Holy shit," said Brendon finally.
"Yeah," said Spencer, glancing over at Ryan. He expected Ryan to look upset - if Jon was having a baby, he was gonna want to be in Chicago more. The tour was gonna get all fucked up.
Ryan just shook his head. "It’s cool, man," he said. "We’re growing up. Serious relationships are… serious." He shrugged.
"Things are gonna be the same, though," said Brendon anxiously. "I mean, Jon can be a dad and still be Jon." He looked over at Spencer, all big eyes begging for reassurance.
"Sure," said Spencer.
--
They all flew out to Chicago after the baby was born. Spencer couldn’t get over his surprise that she was so quiet. Paz was the mellowest baby in the history of mellow babies. She clung to her daddy and stared at them with giant brown eyes and smiled at everyone.
Ryan wasn’t much of a baby person, but he cooed at her and smiled when Keltie asked to hold her. Paz was happy to let them pass her around, and she seemed to have a special fondness for her uncle Brendon, who was a fucking natural with babies. It made sense since he had a cartoon face and all.
"I just need to be home with her for a while," was all Jon said. "Just when she’s this little and fragile. I’ll record some stuff here and mail it to you, okay?"
"Sure," Ryan said. He squeezed Keltie’s hand and smiled at her. Brendon pretended to throw up behind them.
--
It was weird, but they didn’t actually see Brendon that often. They had, back when the tour first ended, before Ryan flew Keltie to Paris and gave her the ring. Spencer had tagged along on the vacation but not on the proposal, because he was kind of a pushy best friend, but he wasn’t an idiot. It wasn’t like he was doing anything else, though. They got back and Brendon just wasn’t around. He was a little distant when Spencer called, a little distracted.
After every other tour Brendon had taken forty-eight hours to himself and then spent every minute clinging to Spencer and Ryan, calling them and asking if they’d go to the movies, if they wanted to order pizza, if they had seen there was a Trading Spaces marathon on tv. It made Spencer feel less alone and weird about it. Brendon would hook up with someone and vanish for a day or two, but he always came back to Spencer, lying around on the floor smoking up and playing stupid video games.
Somehow now Brendon was always busy, although Spencer had no idea what he was busy doing.
"Yo, I just realized I haven’t seen you in three months," said Spencer incredulously on the phone. Keltie was making dinner and Hobo was running around the kitchen, whining anxiously in case she didn't get any chicken.
"Oh, uh, really?" said Brendon. "But I talk to you all the time." There were weird noises in the background. Brendon was out somewhere, Spencer decided. Out without them.
"I talk to Jon more, and he has an infant," said Spencer. "What the hell, Urie, did you fall off a cliff?"
"I’m just busy," said Brendon.
"Busy doing what?" Keltie leaned around the corner and held up a head of broccoli questioningly. Ryan won’t eat it, she mouthed. You?
"Stuff," said Brendon. "Just. I’m busy doing stuff. Hey, I have to go, tell Ross I said hi."
Weird, thought Spencer, and hung up to go have dinner with the soon-to-be Ross-Colleens.
--
Jon emailed pictures of Paz pretty much every day. She was crawling already, and Ryan had mailed her a collection of adorably weird baby hats. Jon took pictures of her doing everything, and doing it in bonnets and fedoras and newsboy caps.
"You two set a date?" Spencer asked, flipping through Ryan’s cable channels.
"Why?" asked Ryan. "Are you worried you’ll have something else booked? Besides lying on my couch, I mean."
Spencer kicked him idly and settled on the top one-hit wonders of the 80’s. "You talked to Brendon lately?"
"I think he’s visiting Pete," said Ryan. "I don’t know." He paused. "We’re thinking next summer," he said.
It took Spencer a second. "Holy shit, for real? You actually picked a day? Has she bought a dress?"
Ryan smiled helplessly. "Paz is going to be our flower girl," he said. "I was thinking three best men, maybe?"
Spencer hugged Ryan and then they slapped each other on the back a little bit. "You better call Brendon, then," said Spencer. "He’s so busy you probably have to book him a year in advance."
"He’ll show up as soon as we’re recording again," said Ryan confidently.
Spencer wondered when Ryan thought that was going to be.
--
Everything happened in a stupidly unfortunate way; Ryan called Pete and they were in the middle of a speakerphone conversation about clowns when Pete suddenly said, "Have you heard Brendon’s latest?"
Ryan waggled his eyebrows at Spencer, who shrugged. "Latest what?" Ryan asked. "Some girl on MySpace bitching about his morning-after manners again?" They’d been on Brendon’s case since pretty much the first week of the first tour to stop being such a douche to his hookups. At the very least he’d gotten a lot more discreet in the last year or two.
"Latest song," said Pete.
There was some silence in Ryan’s living room. "He’s out there writing with you?" asked Ryan carefully, one hand on Spencer’s knee like he was trying to catch his balance.
Spencer felt like he was being stretched all over. Brendon wasn’t good at leaving the music behind when they weren’t on tour, but he’d never been much good at showing his stuff to anyone who wasn’t in the band, either. Not even Pete.
"He’s not writing," said Pete awkwardly. "Shit, he didn’t tell you? He’s uh… He’s recording. An album. Shit, Ryan, you should call him."
"He’s what? " Spencer burst out. "Bullshit."
"Awww, hell," said Pete. "I didn’t mean to… Listen, I’m gonna go. You guys talk to him, okay?" The speaker went to dial tone.
Ryan clicked it off. "What the fuck," said Ryan wonderingly, and then a minute later, anger creeping in to his tone. "What the fuck. "
Spencer already had his phone out. "He’s not answering," he said. He paused. "Maybe it’s just a couple of songs. It’s not like… He wouldn’t just leave us. He needs us."
"He’d better," said Ryan darkly.
--
There had been a hiatus between the first and second albums, too, but as near as Spencer could figure the difference was this: that first hiatus had been a period when Ryan and Brendon were fighting all the time, and they all needed a couple of months to get themselves sane again. But they hadn’t all been able to stay away for very long, and after a few weeks Brendon had shown up a little sheepishly on Spencer’s steps, asking if he wanted to hang out. Jon had flown out to visit and they’d made nachos in Ryan’s yard and smoked up and talked about the new album and how awesome it was going to be. They’d rented a cabin, since obviously it would be easier to write all together.
This time they’d all gone their separate ways. Well, except Spencer, who’d gone Ryan’s way, because that was what he did when he didn’t know what else to do.
It took Ryan forever to get Brendon on the phone. It had been at least a year since Spencer had seen red-faced, dead-eyed, really - honestly -- angry Ryan in full force. Keltie rolled her eyes and went to make macaroni and cheese.
"So," said Ryan coldly. "Brendon. Anything you want to tell us?"
There was a long pause. "Oh, hey, hi, Ryan," said Brendon finally, voice filled with false cheer. "Tell you about what?"
"About what you’re doing with Pete," said Spencer.
"Hey, Spence, how’s it going?" said Brendon. "You’re still at Ryan’s?"
"Jesus fucking Christ, Urie," Ryan snapped. "What are you doing?"
"I was going to tell you," said Brendon. "I just… I wanted to see how it came out first."
Spencer’s stomach bottomed out. "You’re recording an album," he said. "You couldn’t talk to us? You couldn’t wait?"
"Wait for what?" asked Brendon. "I waited, okay, you guys are all… Busy." His voice had gotten the tight kind of defensive that meant he was attacking before anyone could attack him.
"Yeah, well, that’s what being on hiatus means!" Ryan said. "We’re taking a break. Are you - Are you quitting the band?"
Spencer’s heart honest to god stopped beating for a minute. "He’s not," he said quickly. "Brendon, you’re not."
"Is there a band to quit?" asked Brendon.
"Of course-" Spencer started.
"Because last I checked," said Brendon meanly, "bands tour and play music. They don’t have weddings and babies and buy mini-vans."
"Hiatus!" yelled Ryan. "I can’t believe you’re so immature that you can’t be happy for those of us who are grownups!"
Brendon’s phone clicked off.
Ryan threw his cell phone across the room and watched it hit the wall. "He’s wrong," said Ryan flatly.
Spencer felt a little sick. "He is," he said. "But… I mean. He’s not, you know?"
Ryan stormed out.
--
Ryan got a minute into a long speech to Jon about Brendon being a traitor who’d betrayed the band when Jon’s connection suddenly and suspiciously went out. Ryan called back three more times and finally got a text - sry bb crying ttyl?
Paz never cried, so Spencer didn’t know who Jon thought he was fooling.
At least Jon was safe in Chicago. Spencer hadn’t been home to his own apartment for more than a couple of days since the end of the tour, but he found himself suddenly intensely in need of an excuse to get away from Ryan. Ryan had puffed up like a blowfish, storming around the apartment and throwing things, while Hobo hid in the bedroom with Keltie, who yelled she wasn’t opening the door until Ryan decided to be reasonable.
"He didn’t mean it like that," Spencer said for the hundredth time. "Ryan. I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that."
"He quit the band," Ryan said. "You heard him, he just quit the band."
"No," said Spencer carefully. "He just… He got bored. He’s Brendon, he can’t take eight months off and do nothing like we can. So he wrote some songs and he told Pete about them and he’s recording them, but it’s not-"
"Why don’t you want to punch him in the face?" Ryan yelled. "I want to punch him in his stupid muppet face."
Spencer considered that. "I don’t think he really means it," he said. "I mean, it’s Brendon. Can you really imagine him getting all Justin Timberlake without us?"
Ryan threw himself down on the couch. "Yes," he said miserably. "Since the first time I heard him sing in your garage I’ve been able to imagine exactly that."
And that was reason number seven or eight that Ryan had been so nasty to Brendon while they recorded the first album, Spencer knew. "If you lose your shit over this we will lose him," Spencer said.
Ryan pretended not to hear. "I’m going to go upstairs to talk to my fiancée," he said. "She’s holding my dog hostage."
"Because you’re a lunatic," Spencer grumbled, but he couldn’t put any bite behind it.
--
Brendon wasn’t answering his phone.
Spencer got why, but he left a series of increasingly irate messages anyway. "Answer your phone, jackass," became, "Seriously, unless you are dead, pick up your phone, Brendon," and then, "Do you want me to send Ryan after you? Because he’s out for blood. Talk to me or talk to him, you fucktard. Pick up your phone. "
Pete picked up his phone, on the other hand, with a resigned sigh. "Yeah, hi," he said. "He’s hiding out in my basement, hang on." Pete never remembered to cover up the phone, so Spencer winced as he bellowed, "Brendon! It’s Patrick! He needs to ask you a question about the new song!"
There was a second and then Brendon, a little breathless, saying, "Hey, what, did something happen? I know the bridge is fucked up, what’s up?"
Spencer could have choked him. "What the honest to god fuck," Spencer said. "And if you hang up on me I will never speak to your ass again, Brendon, I am serious."
There was a longer pause, and Spencer definitely heard Pete in the background say, "Uh, I’m gonna just… Sorry. Dude, talk to him."
"Brendon," Spencer said.
"Hi," said Brendon in a really small voice. "Um. So. What’s up?"
Spencer sputtered for a minute. "You get one guess," he said sarcastically.
"Well, you know, I didn’t want to presume," Brendon said, chattering a little bit. "It could be something else. I mean, baby news, or Keltie news, or whatever, or -"
"Shut up," Spencer ordered. Brendon stopped. "Just… Tell me what you were thinking, okay?"
Brendon sighed. "I was bored," he said. "It started as kind of a joke, and then I had some stuff, and you were all busy, and I sent it to Pete, and he liked it, and I was talking to Patrick, and he thought it was okay, too, and I flew out to just… Just to see."
"You didn’t say anything," Spencer said.
"Was I just supposed to wait around?" Brendon asked. "Just sit on my hands and then one day you guys would be nice enough to let me know we weren’t a band anymore?"
"Fuck you-"
"Ryan and Jon don’t want to tour anymore, Spencer, I get it. But I do. And I’m not Ryan’s pet, I’m not going to wait for him to decide-"
"You’re touring?" Spencer demanded. "Without us?"
Brendon stopped again. "Fuck," he said. "I wasn’t going to say that."
"Fuck you, you weren’t going to say that," Spencer said. "You’re touring?"
"This is the part where you hang up on me, yeah yeah yeah," said Brendon tiredly.
Spencer’s whole body felt like it was made of ice; he might shatter at any second. "You’re serious about all this," he said.
"I… Yeah," said Brendon. "I didn’t mean to… I just didn’t want to talk about it before it was for real, and then once it was I knew you’d all be so pissed that I couldn’t… I’m sorry," he said, in a tiny voice.
"You ought to be," snapped Spencer.
This time Brendon hung up first.
--
A couple of weeks went by and Brendon didn’t call.
Spencer didn’t expect him to, exactly, but the radio silence was unnerving. Spencer knew Brendon really well, and he couldn’t believe Brendon was anything but devastated by the fight. So why wasn’t he apologizing, why wasn’t he calling, why hadn’t he shown up at Ryan’s house puffy-eyed and miserable?
"He’s a coward, that’s why," said Ryan.
On the computer screen from Chicago, Jon cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Hey, check it out," he said. "Paz is blowing spit bubbles! Can you say ‘Ryan’? Say Ryan, honey. Say Ryan."
Paz blew another bubble and said, "Bah bah bah bah."
"I’m taking him out of the wedding party," Ryan said.
"No, you’re not," Spencer sighed. "Give him some time to cool down. Give yourself-"
"I am perfectly cool!" Ryan yelled.
Spencer rolled his eyes.
"Can you say ‘tempermental diva’?" Jon cooed at the baby. "Say ‘diva.’"
"Shut up," Ryan said.
Jon pretended to cover Paz’s ears.
--
i’m turin thru vegas in a cupl weeks. dnt tell ross.
Spencer frowned at his phone and texted back, what makes u think i care? Then he decided that was too mean, and added, when/where?
Brendon replied with the name of a club so small The Cab hadn’t even played there. openin 4 rudy, cu l8r. xoxo
Spencer didn’t think a couple of weeks was going to be enough time to talk Ryan down, honestly, so he wrote it down in his palm pilot and tried not to be pissed.
--
Spencer was pretty good at keeping secrets, but not from Ryan.
"Tell me," said Ryan, poking him in the side with his long, spindly fingers. "Tell me tell me tell me."
"Jesus, you miss Brendon so much you’re acting like him," Spencer complained, and didn’t miss the flash of hurt on Ryan’s face. "It’s nothing. Just, Brendon’s apparently playing a show in Vegas."
He waited for a second, scratching Hobo behind the ears and hoping that Ryan was serious about this whole "maturing and growing up" thing.
"I hope he chokes," said Ryan.
Spencer sighed. "Like, literally, or -"
"On stage, asshole," said Ryan. "I hope he gets up there and it’s miserable and he hates it and everyone laughs at him and he-"
"Comes crawling back to you?" Spencer asked. Ryan crossed his arms and looked pouty. "Jesus, why wouldn’t he have told you about the tour, I wonder?"
"It’s not my fault, it’s his fault!" Ryan said a little shrilly, shoulders hitched up around his ears. "You’re going to go see him, aren’t you? Traitor."
"No," said Spencer. "Not definitely." He shrugged. "I don’t know, someone should."
"If he wanted us there he would have told us about it," Ryan snapped. "Hobo, c’mere. Stop stealing my stupid dog, Spencer." Hobo wagged her tail hopefully and whined, looking toward the kitchen.
"I’m not stealing your dog," Spencer said. He elbowed Ryan in the side. Hobo licked the side of his face. "You should come with me," he said quietly. "Ryan. He’s our friend."
Ryan shook his head and snuggled his dog, but he didn’t mean no, Spencer knew. He meant You go first. Ryan was fearless in a lot of ways, but not with being wrong. Not with people.
"Hey," said Spencer. "I’ll call him. And I bet he’s miserable and lonely and begs us to come out, okay?"
"Maybe," said Ryan, muffled in Hobo’s neck. "I guess."
--
"Oh my god, I can’t wait!" said Brendon. "I have all these ideas, and new songs, and Patrick’s helped me work out how to do it acoustic, and I’m so excited!"
Ryan scowled at Spencer and mouthed This is your fault.
Spencer waved him off. "Yeah," he said. "It’ll be weird to open for people again, huh?"
"Yeah, but that means I can do pretty much whatever I want," said Brendon happily. "No one’s going to be there to see that kid from Panic at the Disco, you know? God, I’m so psyched."
Spencer wasn’t going to sigh or roll his eyes or yell at Brendon for being oblivious. "Yeah," he said. "It sounds pretty amazing."
"It’s gonna be awesome," said Brendon again. "I have to go, dude, I’m looking at album art with Pete, but I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Bye!"
Ryan stomped upstairs and Spencer didn’t blame him.
--
Spencer went anyway. He wasn’t doing anything else, after all, and Brendon might talk a good game but he probably wanted someone there to see anyway. Of course, Shane would be there, if he wasn’t shooting a movie or off with Reagan.
The club was small and cheap and it made Spencer grateful all over again for all the things they’d never had to do when they were too young to know better. Pete had set up the tour, at least, so Brendon was hanging out with friends. Pete was always finding new acts and sending them out - this tour was some singer-songwriter who wore too much eye makeup and too many ruffles.
Spencer knew the type.
There was barely anyone there, and the parking lot was mostly empty. Spencer recognized a couple of the roadies and nodded to them.
"Your boy’s out back," said Alan, pulling out an amp.
It was kind of awesome to walk into a show without anyone screaming at him, Spencer thought, and headed around back. There was no Zack to babysit, no line of girls outside the venue. Pete had really done a good job keeping a lid on Brendon’s participation. Spencer was impressed.
A couple of scene kids were smoking, deliberately looking away from the door of the venue, which meant that was where the artists were. Spencer ignored them and they ignored him. Spencer hadn’t realized he missed the smell of cigarettes and beer and vomit, but he had.
The vomit, it turned out, was Brendon. He was doubled over with one hand on the wall of the building. His hair was a little longer than last time Spencer had seen him - Jesus, months ago - but he still looked just like Brendon. Spencer had seen him throw up enough times, although almost always after a show, when he’d drunk too much on an empty stomach and the lights were too hot.
"Yo," said Spencer, standing a little way back. He was wearing new jeans, he didn’t need to get them all pukey.
Brendon sighed. "Of course," he muttered, and stood up. He tried a big smile, but it looked a little weak, even in the lamplight of the parking lot. "Spencer, hey."
Spencer considered Brendon for a second. "You didn’t start drinking already, right?" he asked. "Did you fly off to L.A. and let Pete give you a drinking problem? Again?"
Brendon laughed. "Nah," he said. "I’m just preparing for the set. You know, acid is awesome for the vocal chords."
"I’ve heard that," Spencer agreed solemnly. There was a weird, awkward minute. Spencer hadn’t realized just how much he missed Brendon until he was around again. "Hey, stupid, I haven’t seen you in months, I don’t even get a hug?"
Brendon lit up for real. "Awww," he said. "You’re such a pussy." Then he threw himself at Spencer, and it was totally normal again, Brendon hanging off Spencer’s neck like he always had. He didn’t smell like beer at all, Spencer noticed, and frowned a little.
"You really came out," said Brendon happily. "Dude, I appreciate it. I do. I told them to put your name on the list, just in case. Yours and Ryan’s, but…" He paused. "He’s not here, right?"
Spencer shook his head. Something flashed over Brendon’s face, hurt, maybe, being chased by resignation. "Okay," said Brendon. "I figured. He’s touchy."
"Aren’t you on soon?" Spencer asked.
For a second Brendon looked absolutely panicked. "Yeah," he said, voice tight. "Oh, Christ. Yeah."
Spencer nodded. "You’re excited, right?" he said. "Super psyched? Throwing up right before your set has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with, like, bad eggs at lunch?"
Brendon wrinkled up his nose. He’d never been any good at hiding anything, not from the band at least. "I’m gonna get used to it," he said. "I’m sure I can get over my paralyzing fear of walking out there by myself, right? If, y’know, I was scared. Which I’m totally not."
"You want me to hold your hand?" Spencer asked, trying not to smile.
"You mock my pain," Brendon accused, pointing.
"Yeah," said Spencer. "A little. But hell, I’m here, aren’t I?"
Brendon smiled gratefully. "You are," he said. "Dude, I-"
Someone stuck his head out the door. "Brendon, five," he said.
Brendon nodded, sucking in a long breath and then blowing it out slowly. "Shit," he said. "I’m actually going to do this. What was I thinking, Spencer, shit."
Spencer had come there a little bit to talk Brendon out of it, hoping he’d be awful and he could report back to Ryan that Brendon was miserable and lonely and they could have him back. But he looked so lost that Spencer just shrugged. "You’re thinking you love to play, and you haven’t gotten to lately, and that you’re gonna be awesome," he said.
Brendon nodded tightly. He shook his hands out. "What if I suck?" he said.
"You never suck on stage," said Spencer. Brendon bit his lip. "Seriously, dude, off stage you are a total fuck up, but on stage you’re kind of magic. I promise."
Brendon threw himself at Spencer again, just for a second. "I love you," he said quickly, and then ran inside.
"Yeah," Spencer yelled after him. "You’d better!" He felt a little weird so he kicked the heel of his sneaker against the asphalt for a minute, until his stomach settled down, and then he followed Brendon in to watch the show.
--
Ryan was sitting on the couch in the dark when Spencer got home. Hobo had her head cocked to one side, watching him suspiciously. She didn’t move when Spencer walked in, not until Spencer threw himself on the couch. Then she ran around in a circle a couple of times and curled up on the floor.
"It’s a little bit creepy," said Spencer. "You sitting alone in the dark., I mean."
"I was just on my way to bed," Ryan explained.
"Hmm," said Spencer.
Ryan crossed his arms. "I was," he said.
"Okay," Spencer agreed. He let the silence stretch, listening to Hobo whuffle underneath her paws.
"Fine, I give," Ryan said. "How was he?"
Spencer smirked. "And so you see, Doctor Jones, there is nothing you can possess that I can not take away-" he started, and Ryan elbowed him in the stomach. "Ow. Dude, pointy. You want the truth?"
Ryan nodded.
"He was really good," Spencer sighed. "I mean, it’s Brendon, right? He was nervous as shit, but he sounded great. And the new stuff is… It’s him. It’s a little folkier, a little catchier, a little less artsy."
Ryan snapped, "Okay, I get it, he’s a solo artist now, he’s-"
"He doesn’t like performing alone," said Spencer calmly. "Would you chill the fuck out, please?"
Ryan deflated a little bit. "Yeah?"
"He asked me if you were there, and he looked a little heartbroken when you weren’t."
"Well, what did he expect?"
Spencer leaned over and put his head on Ryan’s bony shoulder. "He was hoping nine years of friendship would trump a couple of months of petty fighting."
"That’s not fair."
"Brendon doesn’t fight fair." That was a truth universally acknowledged among the band. "He’s playing again. Come with me."
Ryan shook his head. Spencer waited.
--
Spencer was planning to go with or without Ryan, and Ryan spent most of the afternoon banging around his house scaring Hobo. Around the time they actually needed to go if they were going to make it before Brendon played, Keltie came downstairs and put her hands on her hips.
"You’re being mean," she said sternly to Ryan.
"No, I’m not," he said.
Keltie frowned. "Mean," she repeated. "Knock it off and go hear your friend play. If you put out a solo record-"
"Which I wouldn’t do."
"--He’d be there in a heartbeat." She wrapped her arms around Ryan’s neck.
Ryan looked at Spencer, but Spencer just shrugged. Keltie was basically right.
"I decided that if you try and take him out of the wedding party I’m going to make him one of my bridesmaids," Keltie said. "And we’ll hang out and drink margaritas and try on hats without you."
"He’d wear the dress just to annoy me," said Ryan darkly.
Keltie kissed his cheek. "He would if I asked him to," she agreed. "So you’d better go get your hands on him first."
Ryan tried to look annoyed, but he wasn’t any good at that with Keltie around. "Okay," he said. "Fine. I can be the bigger person."
"Bigger than what?" asked Keltie, poking him in the arm. "A stiff breeze would carry you away forever."
Ryan tickled her side and she shrieked and ran upstairs again. "We should call Jon," said Ryan. "Make it a band thing."
They wouldn’t have been doing it if there had been any real ‘band things,’ Spencer thought, but he grabbed his phone.
--
Word had obviously gotten out that Brendon Urie was playing, because there were a lot more hopeful twelve year olds this time. Ryan pulled on his asshole sunglasses. "They aren’t old enough to get into the club," he said. "Right?"
"Maybe we should have called Zack," said Spencer. He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged.
That made Ryan’s face go kind of blank, which Spencer pretended not to notice. Rudy, Pete’s singer-songwriter, gave them a raised eyebrow and a flat stare as they walked by. Spencer was twenty-four, he wasn’t used to feeling like an elder statesman backstage. Whatever, screw that kid. He didn’t know what he was in for yet.
Brendon had his guitar out, sitting on a amp backstage. "What’s up?" said Spencer.
"Hey," said Brendon, looking up. "Hi, Ryan."
Ryan held up one hand, the other still in his pocket. He hadn’t taken off his glasses.
Brendon waited a beat, but Ryan didn’t say anything, so he just nodded. "Thanks for coming by. How are you guys?"
The tension was palpable, and Spencer hated it. He wanted to shove Ryan, or yell at Brendon to open up and be his normal spazzy self, but Brendon was holding on to his guitar’s neck with white-knuckled fingers and a practiced casual expression.
"We’re good," said Spencer. "We figured since it was only a four-show tour we should stop by."
"Cool," said Brendon.
Spencer nodded and waited, rocking up on the balls of his feet, but neither of his asshole friends said anything to each other. Spencer was going to tell Keltie all about this when he got home, and she was going to be pissed. Spencer gave Ryan a look that he hoped said Your fiancée is gonna kill you.
Ryan glared. Even behind the glasses, Spencer could tell. "So," said Ryan, "do you have enough songs for a whole set, or are you playing some of our stuff?" His tone made it clear that "our" meant him and Spencer and Jon, not Brendon.
Brendon flashed through really fucking annoyed and then smiled sunnily at Ryan. "I’m just opening," he said. "So I’m only playing four or five songs. The album won’t be out for another few weeks anyway. Then Pete thinks I should do a real tour. Maybe you can come see that one. Since you aren’t doing anything."
"Oh, fuck you-"
"Hey," said Spencer, stepping between them. This was reminiscent of the heyday of the Guitar Hero War, and Spencer never needed to live through that again. "Knock it off. I didn’t bring you here to be a dick."
Ryan crossed his arms huffily.
"I’m sorry you had to drag him out here," muttered Brendon, standing up. "I’m gonna go warm up."
"Brendon-"
"Shane’s around here somewhere. You can go hang out with him," said Brendon. He shoved Spencer a little as he walked off, so he could avoid getting too close to Ryan. Spencer thought for a second about catching Brendon’s arm and making him stay, forcing him to talk to Ryan. But by the time Spencer started to figure out what he’d say, Brendon had vanished, and Ryan was stomping his foot.
"That wasn’t my fault."
"Shut up," said Spencer. "I’m pissed at both of you."
"He’s the one who-"
"God, grow up, Ryan!" Spencer snapped.
Ryan fell silent.
Spencer shook his head. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he said.
"A real tour," said Ryan quietly. "Without us. That doesn’t upset you?"
It broke Spencer’s heart. "He’ll come back," said Spencer confidently. Unless you keep being an asshole, he warned Ryan with an eyebrow.
Ryan shrugged uncomfortably. Sorry, he said with a hitched shoulder. I’ll try.
"Yo, that has always been creepy as shit to watch," said Shane, appearing out of nowhere. "You know psychic powers aren’t normal, right?"
"Hey, dude," said Spencer, hugging him hello. Ryan did his stiff wave again. Try harder, Spencer ordered, frowning. Ryan nodded.
--
"Paz wants to say hi," said Jon. "Give Brendon the phone, Spence."
Brendon was laughing, loud and bright. He’d sweated through his shirt just playing an acoustic set by himself for twenty minutes. It had improved his mood about a million percent, though. Spencer handed him the phone and Shane snapped a picture.
"What?" said Brendon. "Oh, it’s the baby! Hi, baby! I missed you! How are your mommy and daddy?"
Ryan was standing stiffly against the wall. Shane snapped a picture of him, and Ryan pushed his glasses up on top of his head. He attempted a real, human smile, which Spencer knew wasn’t easy for him.
"Well bah bah bah to you, young lady," said Brendon to the phone, and then made a kissy noise. Spencer could hear Paz giggling.
"You’re getting spit on my phone," said Spencer, holding out his hand impatiently.
"I have to go," Brendon told Paz mournfully. "Your mean old Uncle Spencer doesn’t love me anymore."
"Oh my god, give me that," said Spencer, grabbing the phone and then swatting Brendon with it. Brendon laughed and shook sweat out of his hair.
"I’m not flying out to visit until you make those two behave," said Jon. "You better get on that. This baby is getting cuter by the day."
"I’m trying," Spencer promised.
Brendon made a face at Shane. "Dude, stop," he said. "What, are you making a scrap book? I know you miss me, but-"
"I’m documenting the rise of a super star," said Shane. "Smile for the camera, pretty boy."
Brendon threw a towel at him.
"You sounded good," said Spencer, kicking Ryan’s ankle.
"Did he?" said Jon. "Damn."
Brendon beamed at Spencer. "I think it was better than last time," he said. "I was a little more on."
"It was okay," said Ryan. It was grudging like he was pulling teeth, but Brendon knew as well as Spencer did that Ryan would always err on the side of meanness when he was giving an opinion.
Brendon’s smile dimmed, but he nodded. "Thanks," he said. "I uh… Thanks for coming tonight."
Ryan nodded and pressed his lips together.
"Baby steps," said Spencer to Jon.
"Not for another few months," said Jon, and Paz giggled in the background.
--
Hobo had never learned to sit or heel on command, but Spencer had gotten pretty close to teaching her to hide her treats in Ryan’s shoes. At least, he liked giving her treats and watching her run around with them in a tizzy, and he liked hearing Ryan yell about it afterwards. Any connection between the two was probably a coincidence, but Spencer wanted credit.
Most of the time, though, Spencer was bored as shit. He texted Jon, but Jon’s texts had never been super coherent before the baby, and since the baby if he replied at all it was usually tired ttyl? Spencer didn’t need to text Ryan, Ryan was always home ripping pictures of weddings out of magazines and covering the basement walls with them, sort of the same way a serial killer might rip out pictures of his victim. Spencer tried to avoid the basement.
That left Brendon, but texting Brendon had always involved some risks. Spencer texted wut r u doin? and a few minutes later got a photo back. It took him a minute or two to decipher what he was seeing - it looked a lot like someone’s arm, and a blanket. Spencer frowned.
I think hs nam is Dan? Brendon texted an hour or so later, and Spencer groaned and turned his phone off, vowing never to text Brendon again.
Brendon sent unsolicited texts, too, usually we r partying like rok stars, coors lite an guitar hero!! or This girl jus asked if u wer stil singl, do u lik tong peircings? Spencer texted back omg ur gross and considered girls with tongue piercings idly for the rest of the afternoon.
Brendon stopped texting for a couple of weeks, and then suddenly Spencer got an email that said DON’T TELL ROSS DID U C? and an attachment that was a one-paragraph Rolling Stone review of Brendon’s new album. It wasn’t entirely flattering, something about overreaching from a band that had never been that special to begin with. Spencer growled and looked at the reviewer’s name, and promised himself that if he ever ran into the guy at a party he’d punch him in the stomach.
my album is dun u wanto c? Brendon texted abruptly one afternoon.
Spencer’s stomach flopped over a couple of times. He didn’t, it made everything too real. Before he had a chance to figure out how to word that in text he got an email with ALBUM ART!!!!! as the subject line.
It was pretty, Spencer thought, and wished it wasn’t. Everything was brown and muted and a little abstract, which fit Brendon’s new sound pretty well. There wasn’t a picture of Brendon anywhere, just a list of eleven tracks with stupid punning titles and on the back a photo of an acoustic guitar.
U shud get shane 2 take sum pictures of u 4 all the girls, Spencer texted.
Ur missing the point, Brendon replied.
--
"What do you think?" Keltie asked. She had a giant white-brimmed hat with a long trailing veil on her head.
"I think you look like an extra from My Fair Lady," said Spencer.
On the computer screen, beaming in from Chicago, Cassie shushed him. "You look amazing," she said. "Oh my god. I’m going to cry so much."
"Shut up," said Keltie, putting on a different hat. "How about this?"
"Paz is clapping," said Cassie.
"Paz has been tricked into thinking all grown ups wear hats all the time," Spencer grumbled. "Do I have to be here for this?"
Keltie poked him in the shoulder. "My maid of honor is in Chicago, Spencer. And Ryan doesn’t want to see the dress before the ceremony."
"Right, but I’m a guy," Spencer pointed out.
Cassie and Keltie exchanged looks. "Honey," said Keltie. "You’re Ryan’s best friend. Out of all the people in the world who might have opinions on hats -"
"Right?" said Cassie.
"-I mean, you have the necessary job experience," said Keltie. "Plus, no offense, but your whole band is a little gay, so."
Spencer crossed his arms grumpily. "You’re marrying one of us," he said. "And even Brendon sleeps with girls sometimes."
"Uh huh," said Keltie unconcernedly. "How about a scarf. What do you think? I’m wearing a mini-dress, I might get cold."
"Paz likes it!" said Cassie.
"You have five months until the wedding," Spencer moaned, but no one was listening to him.
--
Brendon had an album release party the night before his new tour started. Spencer and Keltie dragged Ryan along, because it was going to be kind of a small thing, and because Keltie said she was tired of Ryan moping.
They had a suite of rooms in a swank casino hotel, and Pete had arranged for the whole place to be drowning in liquor. Spencer got to say a quick hello to half of Cobra Starship and half of The Cab before Ryan dragged him, stomping, out on to a balcony.
"This sucks!" Ryan said, yelling a little to be heard over Pete’s idea of mood music.
"We have to say congratulations," said Spencer stubbornly.
"Congratulations, you’re an asshole," Ryan grumbled.
Spencer punched him in the arm.
He planned to get Ryan high, because Ryan was always nicer when he was stoned, but Pete and Brendon came tripping out on to the balcony a second later. Brendon looked exhausted and sweaty and he was laughing at something Pete had said.
"Ross!" said Pete, grabbing Ryan in a headlock that was also sort of a hug.
"Get off me, my hair," Ryan complained, trying not to smile.
Brendon’s face was red and he smelled like beer. "Thanks for coming," he said, looking at Spencer and not Ryan.
"Dude, of course," said Spencer.
"It’s… Nice," said Ryan grudgingly. He and Brendon stared at each other for a minute.
"Yo, someone needs to hit the bong," said Pete. "I’ll be back, dude." He patted Brendon on the shoulder and then pulled Ryan back into the party.
Brendon leaned on the railing and the wind ruffled his hair. Vegas never really got cold, but it was a little chilly after dark. "Really, it was cool of you to show up," he said, tripping over the words a little.
"How wasted are you?" asked Spencer.
Brendon laughed. "I’m like… You remember Pittsburgh?"
"Oh, shit, dude. Are you gonna throw up on me?"
"Nah. I just need to get some air." Brendon leaned so far over the railing that for a second Spencer thought he was going to fall to his death. Spencer leaned over and grabbed the back of Brendon’s shirt. It was all sweaty.
"Please don’t swan dive," he said.
Brendon sighed. "Okay." He turned around and leaned against the railing, shutting his eyes for a second. "The tour starts tomorrow," he said. "It’s gonna suck."
"You love touring," said Spencer. "That’s why you’re doing this, right?"
"I thought I was doing it to hurt Ryan’s feelings," Brendon said, lightly mocking. Spencer punched his arm. "Nah, I just… It’s a lot of shows, and I don’t know how to do a whole set by myself," said Brendon. "I’m opening second, we haven’t opened second since forever. And I’m sharing a bus and I don’t have a tech and you won’t - I mean. I’m traveling by myself. I don’t know if I like that."
Then don’t go without us, Spencer almost said. He swallowed it down instead. "You’ll be great. I expect you to call me every fucking day."
Brendon laughed. "You could come with me if you’re that bored," he said. "Pete wouldn’t mind."
"I’m not bored."
"Ha."
"I’m not. I’m only ten pages into Anna Karenina. Ryan says it’s life-changing."
Brendon laughed so hard he started to cry. "Oh my god, Spence," he said, leaning on the railing for support. "That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard."
Spencer tried to be annoyed, but it was hard not to laugh when Brendon was laughing. "So stay home and entertain me," he said.
Brendon shook his head. "I… I’ll call, okay? I miss hanging out with you. With all of you."
"Yeah," said Spencer, looking at his hands where they were holding on to the railing. "I miss you. I mean, we do. Ryan does, he just won’t say so."
Brendon shrugged. "I get it," he said.
Spencer dug his phone out of his pocket. "Call Jon so he can congratulate you and tell you what a genius Paz is. Did you know she’s standing up? Yesterday she figured out how to -"
"-How to hold on to the table and walk herself to the other side of the living room to steal his donut, I know," Brendon laughed. "I thought he was bad about the cats, dude." He flipped open Spencer’s phone and flashed Spencer a grin. "Jonny Walker! You are missing a hell of a party, dude, listen!" Brendon said, pushing open the door to the suite.
Spencer folded his arms and shivered a little.
--
Brendon called after the first night of the tour, but just to say, "Oh my god, I’m going to die, have to go!" Then he skipped a couple of days. Spencer tried not to be too curious, because every time he mentioned it Ryan looked like he wanted to strangle someone.
He called Brendon in the early afternoon, when he thought he might be awake but not warming up yet. "Dude," Brendon said. "This is amazing."
"Yeah?" said Spencer. A tiny part of him still wished it was going badly; that was what Brendon deserved for abandoning him. He petted Hobo absently with one hand. "What’s up?"
"It’s hilarious. You would be laughing your ass off. I can’t find my CDs, I suck at teching for myself, I was late yesterday, and everyone else on the tour knows each other." Brendon laughed. "You would not believe what a disaster it is. But it’s touring, you know? Performing. It’s great."
Spencer did know, and he was surprised at how suddenly and intensely he wanted to be out on tour again. "So it’s fine, but you’re a disaster," he said. "What city are you in right now?"
"I’m… not sure? The venue looks kind of familiar. It’s uh… squarish, and there’s a sidewalk out front."
"If you figure out where you are I can come visit," said Spencer.
Brendon paused. "I… You don’t have to do that," he said. "I know you have a busy schedule of hanging out with Ryan all the time. I don’t want to get interfere with all your best friend time."
A year or two earlier Spencer had figured out the difference between Brendon’s ‘just kidding’ tone and his ‘just kidding because my feelings are hurt’ tone. It made Spencer miss him, even if he was being kind of a bitch.
Spencer wanted to get out of Vegas. He loved hanging out with Ryan and Hobo, but he’d had plenty of time to do that. He missed being annoyed by Brendon’s chatter. He missed the rush of setting up for the show, and he missed being trapped on a bus where no one expected him to do dishes or eat broccoli with dinner.
"Seriously," Spencer said. "Figure out where you are, space cadet, and I’ll come out. Just for a day or two, you know. Then I can come back and tell Ryan how bad you suck. It’ll be great."
"Ryan would never forgive me," said Brendon. "Like, he thinks he’s mad now? But if I stole you he’d never get over it."
"Whatever," said Spencer. His stomach hurt. If Brendon didn’t want him around that was fine; he wasn’t going to beg.
"I - No, Spencer -" Brendon sighed. There was a long pause. Hobo whined and stuck her cold nose on Spencer’s hand so he’d start petting again. "I’m gonna be in Philadelphia tomorrow and the day after," said Brendon. "For the record, that is not an invitation, it’s an announcement."
Spencer grinned. "Oh, good," he said. "Because I am way too busy to come hang out with you."
"Yeah, I can tell. What would Hobo do without someone to pet her twelve hours a day?"
"What do you do without someone to pet you twelve hours a day?"
"I have to go do a show," said Brendon. "To which you are not invited."
"I won’t see you later, then," said Spencer. Brendon hung up and Spencer went to pack.
--
Ryan kicked Spencer’s suitcase a couple of times. "Will you at least sabotage his set for me?" he asked.
"No," said Spencer.
"You suck," said Ryan.
"Yeah," said Spencer. He put his hands on his hips. "You hugging me goodbye?"
Ryan gave Spencer a hug, pointy elbow digging in to Spencer’s shoulder and scarf getting in Spencer’s mouth. "When are you coming back?"
"Can’t live without me for a couple of days," Spencer teased, but he was grateful for it. "You go plan a wedding. Something where your guests don’t have to climb a mountain to get to the ceremony."
"Beach," said Ryan. "That’s Keltie’s new idea. Getting married on the beach. You think?"
"It’s very you," Spencer agreed. He backed up and grabbed his bag. "I’ll call you a lot," he said.
"You’d better." Someone honked at Ryan’s illegal airport drop-off parking. "Tell him… I mean, don’t say that I… Whatever, never mind, don’t tell him anything from me."
Spencer rolled his eyes. "Okay, I’ll just accidentally mention how you’re crying yourself to sleep at night because he’s not around," he said, and headed through the glass doors.
"That’s not funny!" Ryan yelled. "You’re not funny, Spencer!"
--
Spencer arrived while Brendon was performing, which meant he got the world’s sweatiest hug when Brendon was done. "You actually came," said Brendon a couple of times. "Holy shit, how bored were you?"
"What, I have to be miserable to want to visit you?" Spencer joked.
Brendon waited just a second too long before he said, "Of course not. Hey, so, let me introduce you to everybody, this is Adam and that’s Joe and you know Dan and Dan from Pete’s last - remember? - and this is Virginia, don’t let her near your clothes, she’ll fuck them up."
"Dude," said Spencer, but Brendon wouldn’t be dissuaded from his mission to drag Spencer past every single person on the tour and introduce him. Spencer wasn’t going to remember anyone.
Eventually they ended up in the parking lot, where a bunch of roadies and techs were smoking. "Is this Pete’s underage tour?" asked Spencer. Everyone looked twelve years old.
Brendon laughed. "I feel old," he said. "This is my mid-life crisis, isn’t it."
"You’d better live to be more than forty-eight," said Spencer, rolling his eyes. "This is just you being… You."
Brendon beamed at him. "Exactly," he said. "Oh my god, wait until you see the bus I’m sharing it’s like… The smallest bus I’ve ever seen. Zack would have to walk around like a hunchback, not that he’d fit through the door."
"Doll-sized, just like you," Spencer said.
"You wait until you have to try and fit in the bunks," Brendon warned. "Then you’ll be sorry you’re so tall."
He was so happy. Spencer could see it all over his face, in the way he was standing, in the tone of his voice. Brendon hadn’t sounded like that in a while, not since the last tour, before Jon got the news from Cassie. Spencer liked the way he glowed a little bit, the way he bounced up on the balls of his feet because he couldn’t contain himself.
"So you got somewhere for me to dump my stuff?" Spencer asked.
"Mi bunk es su bunk," said Brendon. "Kidding, you totally have your own."
"Well, good," said Spencer. "You kick, and you steal all the blankets."
"One time, Spencer Smith, one time," said Brendon, aggrieved. He bumped Spencer with his shoulder and grinned at him a little, like they were sharing the best joke ever.
"I’m glad I’m out here," said Spencer. He couldn’t put it into words, exactly, but he felt better than he had in a while.
"Yeah?" said Brendon, and for just a second he sounded uncertain. "Okay. Well, me too, then."
--
The tour was a giant mess because the headlining band had never headlined before, and nearly everyone else was on their first tour. Brendon knew what he was doing onstage, but off stage he was a disorganized disaster.
There was allegedly a box full of his CDs for selling somewhere, but he wasn’t sure where. He missed two interviews because he’d forgotten to write down what day they were. And he kept showing up late because he didn’t have Zack around to drag him off the bus when he was napping.
"You flew out to babysit?" said Ryan, and Spencer could hear him rolling his eyes.
"No. But I can’t just… I mean, if it was you, and let’s just say your electricity got turned off-" Spencer started.
"Shut up, that was one time," said Ryan.
Spencer sighed in to the phone. "Right," he said. "So I’m not babysitting, I’m just being a good friend."
"You like being bossy," said Ryan.
Spencer shrugged.
"Fine, enjoy yourself. Hey, what if I wore a white tuxedo and Keltie wore a black dress? Do you think-"
"My mother would kill you both," said Spencer. "Dude. No."
"You’re such a traditionalist," said Ryan witheringly.
"Guilty as charged. Hey, I have to go, we’re playing tournament Guitar Hero, and my team is up."
"You’re going to win; you have Brendon."
"Right, but it’s no fun to win if I’m not there to gloat." There was screaming from on the bus. "Tell Keltie I said hi."
"Fine, fine," Ryan grumbled, and Spencer ran in to catch up on the game.
--
Touring included almost as much downtime as lying around on Ryan’s couch, which Spencer had forgotten. It had been a long time since he’d toured without being the headliner, and without needing to promote anything. He kicked around for a couple of days keeping himself busy with Brendon’s to-do list and his calendar, but mostly Spencer ended up standing around venues watching Brendon smoke and wishing he owned a warmer winter coat.
"Pete thinks I should get a band for the next tour," said Brendon. He was never cold, not even when there was snow on the ground like there was in - where were they? Spencer needed to check the calendar. Boston, maybe.
Spencer nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets for warmth. Brendon wasn’t supposed to be planning a next tour already, this one wasn’t even halfway over. It freaked Spencer out a little.
"I don’t know, though, that feels kind of weird to me," said Brendon. "If there are gonna be instruments, I should be playing them, right?"
"I guess," said Spencer. "You know you can’t play them all by yourself at once, right?"
"I could if I tried hard enough," Brendon insisted. He jumped up and down a couple of times. "I bet I could at least play guitar and drums at the same time. Like, if Rick Allen can do it with one arm, and I have two-"
"We are not getting you a one-armed drumset," said Spencer immediately.
Brendon pouted. "Please?" he said, batting his eyes.
Spencer shivered. "I don’t know why you think that works on me," he said. "That’s never worked on me."
"It works on lots of people," said Brendon.
"Yeah, but not me," said Spencer. "I’m immune to you."
Brendon sidled up right next to him, pressing into Spencer’s space. He was warm like a radiator, so Spencer didn’t mind that much. "No one is immune to me," said Brendon. "Look at this ass." He bumped Spencer with his hip.
It was a great ass, but Brendon didn’t need the encouragement. "Ehhh," said Spencer. "I’ve seen better."
"What? Where? No, you haven’t," said Brendon. "Ryan doesn’t have an ass-"
"And I’m not hooking up with Ryan," Spencer agreed.
Brendon blinked. "You aren’t hooking up with me, either," he said.
His chin was almost on Spencer’s shoulder, and his breath was turning to fog in the air between them. Spencer shivered again, cheeks heating up. "I didn’t mean…" he started. "I wouldn’t… If I were going to hook up with you, your ass wouldn’t be a factor, I think was my point."
Brendon stared at him, totally quiet, just for a minute. Then he grinned, "My ass is always a factor. Admit it, Spencer, you’re hot for my body."
"I’m cold," Spencer said. "Can we go inside now?"
Brendon shrugged and dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk, stomping it out with his sneaker. "Yeah," he said. "Wimp."
"Shut up," said Spencer, and followed him into the venue.
2/4
Panic at the Disco, Spencer/Brendon (Ryan/Keltie, Jon/Cassie) 40,000 words, R.
Summary: Set a little while in the future. The band takes a break and Brendon gets bored. Spencer goes with him.
Warnings: Sex. Boys behaving badly. Babies.
Thanks to all the amazing people who read this through as I was writing it, especially sunsetmog, because this started off as a silly email and ended up kind of epic. ♥ And as always to elucreh for making commas work properly. I would be lost (and comma-less) without her. And wordsalone and sweetrecovery! ♥
At some point during his fourth hour of X-Box on Ryan’s floor, Spencer looked up and said, "So is this it?"
There was a long silence from Ryan, who’d been babytalking Hobo for the better part of an hour. "No," said Ryan carefully. "It’s not… It’s not over. I’m writing, you know that. And we’re gonna keep playing and stuff. I just…"
Spencer killed an on-screen zombie with more vicious pleasure than was really called for. "You just proposed to Keltie," he said. "Jon just knocked Cassie up."
"Yeah," said Ryan.
"It’s been eight months," said Spencer. He’d been trying not to bring this up for weeks and weeks, but he was bored and twitchy, and his mom kept asking. "I think after eight months of nothing it’s officially a hiatus. Or officially-"
"Hiatus," said Ryan quickly.
Spencer blew up the side of a building. "Okay," he said. "Hiatus."
--
Sometime around the first tour for the third album Haley called and said, "I can’t do this anymore," and Spencer tried to be surprised. He loved her, but he didn’t see her that much, and what was the point of buying a house and a dog with someone you didn’t see very often? He hung up and he cried on Ryan’s shoulder a little and they went on with the tour and things were pretty much exactly the same, except when they got off tour he spent more time at Ryan’s house than anywhere else.
After the second tour Jon got a phone call that left him shaking a little bit, too, and Spencer was prepared to go out drinking all night to celebrate the single life. Jon shook his head. "I’m gonna be a dad," he said. "I have to go call Wentz."
Ryan and Brendon and Spencer sat in stunned silence for a minute. "Holy shit," said Brendon finally.
"Yeah," said Spencer, glancing over at Ryan. He expected Ryan to look upset - if Jon was having a baby, he was gonna want to be in Chicago more. The tour was gonna get all fucked up.
Ryan just shook his head. "It’s cool, man," he said. "We’re growing up. Serious relationships are… serious." He shrugged.
"Things are gonna be the same, though," said Brendon anxiously. "I mean, Jon can be a dad and still be Jon." He looked over at Spencer, all big eyes begging for reassurance.
"Sure," said Spencer.
--
They all flew out to Chicago after the baby was born. Spencer couldn’t get over his surprise that she was so quiet. Paz was the mellowest baby in the history of mellow babies. She clung to her daddy and stared at them with giant brown eyes and smiled at everyone.
Ryan wasn’t much of a baby person, but he cooed at her and smiled when Keltie asked to hold her. Paz was happy to let them pass her around, and she seemed to have a special fondness for her uncle Brendon, who was a fucking natural with babies. It made sense since he had a cartoon face and all.
"I just need to be home with her for a while," was all Jon said. "Just when she’s this little and fragile. I’ll record some stuff here and mail it to you, okay?"
"Sure," Ryan said. He squeezed Keltie’s hand and smiled at her. Brendon pretended to throw up behind them.
--
It was weird, but they didn’t actually see Brendon that often. They had, back when the tour first ended, before Ryan flew Keltie to Paris and gave her the ring. Spencer had tagged along on the vacation but not on the proposal, because he was kind of a pushy best friend, but he wasn’t an idiot. It wasn’t like he was doing anything else, though. They got back and Brendon just wasn’t around. He was a little distant when Spencer called, a little distracted.
After every other tour Brendon had taken forty-eight hours to himself and then spent every minute clinging to Spencer and Ryan, calling them and asking if they’d go to the movies, if they wanted to order pizza, if they had seen there was a Trading Spaces marathon on tv. It made Spencer feel less alone and weird about it. Brendon would hook up with someone and vanish for a day or two, but he always came back to Spencer, lying around on the floor smoking up and playing stupid video games.
Somehow now Brendon was always busy, although Spencer had no idea what he was busy doing.
"Yo, I just realized I haven’t seen you in three months," said Spencer incredulously on the phone. Keltie was making dinner and Hobo was running around the kitchen, whining anxiously in case she didn't get any chicken.
"Oh, uh, really?" said Brendon. "But I talk to you all the time." There were weird noises in the background. Brendon was out somewhere, Spencer decided. Out without them.
"I talk to Jon more, and he has an infant," said Spencer. "What the hell, Urie, did you fall off a cliff?"
"I’m just busy," said Brendon.
"Busy doing what?" Keltie leaned around the corner and held up a head of broccoli questioningly. Ryan won’t eat it, she mouthed. You?
"Stuff," said Brendon. "Just. I’m busy doing stuff. Hey, I have to go, tell Ross I said hi."
Weird, thought Spencer, and hung up to go have dinner with the soon-to-be Ross-Colleens.
--
Jon emailed pictures of Paz pretty much every day. She was crawling already, and Ryan had mailed her a collection of adorably weird baby hats. Jon took pictures of her doing everything, and doing it in bonnets and fedoras and newsboy caps.
"You two set a date?" Spencer asked, flipping through Ryan’s cable channels.
"Why?" asked Ryan. "Are you worried you’ll have something else booked? Besides lying on my couch, I mean."
Spencer kicked him idly and settled on the top one-hit wonders of the 80’s. "You talked to Brendon lately?"
"I think he’s visiting Pete," said Ryan. "I don’t know." He paused. "We’re thinking next summer," he said.
It took Spencer a second. "Holy shit, for real? You actually picked a day? Has she bought a dress?"
Ryan smiled helplessly. "Paz is going to be our flower girl," he said. "I was thinking three best men, maybe?"
Spencer hugged Ryan and then they slapped each other on the back a little bit. "You better call Brendon, then," said Spencer. "He’s so busy you probably have to book him a year in advance."
"He’ll show up as soon as we’re recording again," said Ryan confidently.
Spencer wondered when Ryan thought that was going to be.
--
Everything happened in a stupidly unfortunate way; Ryan called Pete and they were in the middle of a speakerphone conversation about clowns when Pete suddenly said, "Have you heard Brendon’s latest?"
Ryan waggled his eyebrows at Spencer, who shrugged. "Latest what?" Ryan asked. "Some girl on MySpace bitching about his morning-after manners again?" They’d been on Brendon’s case since pretty much the first week of the first tour to stop being such a douche to his hookups. At the very least he’d gotten a lot more discreet in the last year or two.
"Latest song," said Pete.
There was some silence in Ryan’s living room. "He’s out there writing with you?" asked Ryan carefully, one hand on Spencer’s knee like he was trying to catch his balance.
Spencer felt like he was being stretched all over. Brendon wasn’t good at leaving the music behind when they weren’t on tour, but he’d never been much good at showing his stuff to anyone who wasn’t in the band, either. Not even Pete.
"He’s not writing," said Pete awkwardly. "Shit, he didn’t tell you? He’s uh… He’s recording. An album. Shit, Ryan, you should call him."
"He’s what? " Spencer burst out. "Bullshit."
"Awww, hell," said Pete. "I didn’t mean to… Listen, I’m gonna go. You guys talk to him, okay?" The speaker went to dial tone.
Ryan clicked it off. "What the fuck," said Ryan wonderingly, and then a minute later, anger creeping in to his tone. "What the fuck. "
Spencer already had his phone out. "He’s not answering," he said. He paused. "Maybe it’s just a couple of songs. It’s not like… He wouldn’t just leave us. He needs us."
"He’d better," said Ryan darkly.
--
There had been a hiatus between the first and second albums, too, but as near as Spencer could figure the difference was this: that first hiatus had been a period when Ryan and Brendon were fighting all the time, and they all needed a couple of months to get themselves sane again. But they hadn’t all been able to stay away for very long, and after a few weeks Brendon had shown up a little sheepishly on Spencer’s steps, asking if he wanted to hang out. Jon had flown out to visit and they’d made nachos in Ryan’s yard and smoked up and talked about the new album and how awesome it was going to be. They’d rented a cabin, since obviously it would be easier to write all together.
This time they’d all gone their separate ways. Well, except Spencer, who’d gone Ryan’s way, because that was what he did when he didn’t know what else to do.
It took Ryan forever to get Brendon on the phone. It had been at least a year since Spencer had seen red-faced, dead-eyed, really - honestly -- angry Ryan in full force. Keltie rolled her eyes and went to make macaroni and cheese.
"So," said Ryan coldly. "Brendon. Anything you want to tell us?"
There was a long pause. "Oh, hey, hi, Ryan," said Brendon finally, voice filled with false cheer. "Tell you about what?"
"About what you’re doing with Pete," said Spencer.
"Hey, Spence, how’s it going?" said Brendon. "You’re still at Ryan’s?"
"Jesus fucking Christ, Urie," Ryan snapped. "What are you doing?"
"I was going to tell you," said Brendon. "I just… I wanted to see how it came out first."
Spencer’s stomach bottomed out. "You’re recording an album," he said. "You couldn’t talk to us? You couldn’t wait?"
"Wait for what?" asked Brendon. "I waited, okay, you guys are all… Busy." His voice had gotten the tight kind of defensive that meant he was attacking before anyone could attack him.
"Yeah, well, that’s what being on hiatus means!" Ryan said. "We’re taking a break. Are you - Are you quitting the band?"
Spencer’s heart honest to god stopped beating for a minute. "He’s not," he said quickly. "Brendon, you’re not."
"Is there a band to quit?" asked Brendon.
"Of course-" Spencer started.
"Because last I checked," said Brendon meanly, "bands tour and play music. They don’t have weddings and babies and buy mini-vans."
"Hiatus!" yelled Ryan. "I can’t believe you’re so immature that you can’t be happy for those of us who are grownups!"
Brendon’s phone clicked off.
Ryan threw his cell phone across the room and watched it hit the wall. "He’s wrong," said Ryan flatly.
Spencer felt a little sick. "He is," he said. "But… I mean. He’s not, you know?"
Ryan stormed out.
--
Ryan got a minute into a long speech to Jon about Brendon being a traitor who’d betrayed the band when Jon’s connection suddenly and suspiciously went out. Ryan called back three more times and finally got a text - sry bb crying ttyl?
Paz never cried, so Spencer didn’t know who Jon thought he was fooling.
At least Jon was safe in Chicago. Spencer hadn’t been home to his own apartment for more than a couple of days since the end of the tour, but he found himself suddenly intensely in need of an excuse to get away from Ryan. Ryan had puffed up like a blowfish, storming around the apartment and throwing things, while Hobo hid in the bedroom with Keltie, who yelled she wasn’t opening the door until Ryan decided to be reasonable.
"He didn’t mean it like that," Spencer said for the hundredth time. "Ryan. I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that."
"He quit the band," Ryan said. "You heard him, he just quit the band."
"No," said Spencer carefully. "He just… He got bored. He’s Brendon, he can’t take eight months off and do nothing like we can. So he wrote some songs and he told Pete about them and he’s recording them, but it’s not-"
"Why don’t you want to punch him in the face?" Ryan yelled. "I want to punch him in his stupid muppet face."
Spencer considered that. "I don’t think he really means it," he said. "I mean, it’s Brendon. Can you really imagine him getting all Justin Timberlake without us?"
Ryan threw himself down on the couch. "Yes," he said miserably. "Since the first time I heard him sing in your garage I’ve been able to imagine exactly that."
And that was reason number seven or eight that Ryan had been so nasty to Brendon while they recorded the first album, Spencer knew. "If you lose your shit over this we will lose him," Spencer said.
Ryan pretended not to hear. "I’m going to go upstairs to talk to my fiancée," he said. "She’s holding my dog hostage."
"Because you’re a lunatic," Spencer grumbled, but he couldn’t put any bite behind it.
--
Brendon wasn’t answering his phone.
Spencer got why, but he left a series of increasingly irate messages anyway. "Answer your phone, jackass," became, "Seriously, unless you are dead, pick up your phone, Brendon," and then, "Do you want me to send Ryan after you? Because he’s out for blood. Talk to me or talk to him, you fucktard. Pick up your phone. "
Pete picked up his phone, on the other hand, with a resigned sigh. "Yeah, hi," he said. "He’s hiding out in my basement, hang on." Pete never remembered to cover up the phone, so Spencer winced as he bellowed, "Brendon! It’s Patrick! He needs to ask you a question about the new song!"
There was a second and then Brendon, a little breathless, saying, "Hey, what, did something happen? I know the bridge is fucked up, what’s up?"
Spencer could have choked him. "What the honest to god fuck," Spencer said. "And if you hang up on me I will never speak to your ass again, Brendon, I am serious."
There was a longer pause, and Spencer definitely heard Pete in the background say, "Uh, I’m gonna just… Sorry. Dude, talk to him."
"Brendon," Spencer said.
"Hi," said Brendon in a really small voice. "Um. So. What’s up?"
Spencer sputtered for a minute. "You get one guess," he said sarcastically.
"Well, you know, I didn’t want to presume," Brendon said, chattering a little bit. "It could be something else. I mean, baby news, or Keltie news, or whatever, or -"
"Shut up," Spencer ordered. Brendon stopped. "Just… Tell me what you were thinking, okay?"
Brendon sighed. "I was bored," he said. "It started as kind of a joke, and then I had some stuff, and you were all busy, and I sent it to Pete, and he liked it, and I was talking to Patrick, and he thought it was okay, too, and I flew out to just… Just to see."
"You didn’t say anything," Spencer said.
"Was I just supposed to wait around?" Brendon asked. "Just sit on my hands and then one day you guys would be nice enough to let me know we weren’t a band anymore?"
"Fuck you-"
"Ryan and Jon don’t want to tour anymore, Spencer, I get it. But I do. And I’m not Ryan’s pet, I’m not going to wait for him to decide-"
"You’re touring?" Spencer demanded. "Without us?"
Brendon stopped again. "Fuck," he said. "I wasn’t going to say that."
"Fuck you, you weren’t going to say that," Spencer said. "You’re touring?"
"This is the part where you hang up on me, yeah yeah yeah," said Brendon tiredly.
Spencer’s whole body felt like it was made of ice; he might shatter at any second. "You’re serious about all this," he said.
"I… Yeah," said Brendon. "I didn’t mean to… I just didn’t want to talk about it before it was for real, and then once it was I knew you’d all be so pissed that I couldn’t… I’m sorry," he said, in a tiny voice.
"You ought to be," snapped Spencer.
This time Brendon hung up first.
--
A couple of weeks went by and Brendon didn’t call.
Spencer didn’t expect him to, exactly, but the radio silence was unnerving. Spencer knew Brendon really well, and he couldn’t believe Brendon was anything but devastated by the fight. So why wasn’t he apologizing, why wasn’t he calling, why hadn’t he shown up at Ryan’s house puffy-eyed and miserable?
"He’s a coward, that’s why," said Ryan.
On the computer screen from Chicago, Jon cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Hey, check it out," he said. "Paz is blowing spit bubbles! Can you say ‘Ryan’? Say Ryan, honey. Say Ryan."
Paz blew another bubble and said, "Bah bah bah bah."
"I’m taking him out of the wedding party," Ryan said.
"No, you’re not," Spencer sighed. "Give him some time to cool down. Give yourself-"
"I am perfectly cool!" Ryan yelled.
Spencer rolled his eyes.
"Can you say ‘tempermental diva’?" Jon cooed at the baby. "Say ‘diva.’"
"Shut up," Ryan said.
Jon pretended to cover Paz’s ears.
--
i’m turin thru vegas in a cupl weeks. dnt tell ross.
Spencer frowned at his phone and texted back, what makes u think i care? Then he decided that was too mean, and added, when/where?
Brendon replied with the name of a club so small The Cab hadn’t even played there. openin 4 rudy, cu l8r. xoxo
Spencer didn’t think a couple of weeks was going to be enough time to talk Ryan down, honestly, so he wrote it down in his palm pilot and tried not to be pissed.
--
Spencer was pretty good at keeping secrets, but not from Ryan.
"Tell me," said Ryan, poking him in the side with his long, spindly fingers. "Tell me tell me tell me."
"Jesus, you miss Brendon so much you’re acting like him," Spencer complained, and didn’t miss the flash of hurt on Ryan’s face. "It’s nothing. Just, Brendon’s apparently playing a show in Vegas."
He waited for a second, scratching Hobo behind the ears and hoping that Ryan was serious about this whole "maturing and growing up" thing.
"I hope he chokes," said Ryan.
Spencer sighed. "Like, literally, or -"
"On stage, asshole," said Ryan. "I hope he gets up there and it’s miserable and he hates it and everyone laughs at him and he-"
"Comes crawling back to you?" Spencer asked. Ryan crossed his arms and looked pouty. "Jesus, why wouldn’t he have told you about the tour, I wonder?"
"It’s not my fault, it’s his fault!" Ryan said a little shrilly, shoulders hitched up around his ears. "You’re going to go see him, aren’t you? Traitor."
"No," said Spencer. "Not definitely." He shrugged. "I don’t know, someone should."
"If he wanted us there he would have told us about it," Ryan snapped. "Hobo, c’mere. Stop stealing my stupid dog, Spencer." Hobo wagged her tail hopefully and whined, looking toward the kitchen.
"I’m not stealing your dog," Spencer said. He elbowed Ryan in the side. Hobo licked the side of his face. "You should come with me," he said quietly. "Ryan. He’s our friend."
Ryan shook his head and snuggled his dog, but he didn’t mean no, Spencer knew. He meant You go first. Ryan was fearless in a lot of ways, but not with being wrong. Not with people.
"Hey," said Spencer. "I’ll call him. And I bet he’s miserable and lonely and begs us to come out, okay?"
"Maybe," said Ryan, muffled in Hobo’s neck. "I guess."
--
"Oh my god, I can’t wait!" said Brendon. "I have all these ideas, and new songs, and Patrick’s helped me work out how to do it acoustic, and I’m so excited!"
Ryan scowled at Spencer and mouthed This is your fault.
Spencer waved him off. "Yeah," he said. "It’ll be weird to open for people again, huh?"
"Yeah, but that means I can do pretty much whatever I want," said Brendon happily. "No one’s going to be there to see that kid from Panic at the Disco, you know? God, I’m so psyched."
Spencer wasn’t going to sigh or roll his eyes or yell at Brendon for being oblivious. "Yeah," he said. "It sounds pretty amazing."
"It’s gonna be awesome," said Brendon again. "I have to go, dude, I’m looking at album art with Pete, but I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Bye!"
Ryan stomped upstairs and Spencer didn’t blame him.
--
Spencer went anyway. He wasn’t doing anything else, after all, and Brendon might talk a good game but he probably wanted someone there to see anyway. Of course, Shane would be there, if he wasn’t shooting a movie or off with Reagan.
The club was small and cheap and it made Spencer grateful all over again for all the things they’d never had to do when they were too young to know better. Pete had set up the tour, at least, so Brendon was hanging out with friends. Pete was always finding new acts and sending them out - this tour was some singer-songwriter who wore too much eye makeup and too many ruffles.
Spencer knew the type.
There was barely anyone there, and the parking lot was mostly empty. Spencer recognized a couple of the roadies and nodded to them.
"Your boy’s out back," said Alan, pulling out an amp.
It was kind of awesome to walk into a show without anyone screaming at him, Spencer thought, and headed around back. There was no Zack to babysit, no line of girls outside the venue. Pete had really done a good job keeping a lid on Brendon’s participation. Spencer was impressed.
A couple of scene kids were smoking, deliberately looking away from the door of the venue, which meant that was where the artists were. Spencer ignored them and they ignored him. Spencer hadn’t realized he missed the smell of cigarettes and beer and vomit, but he had.
The vomit, it turned out, was Brendon. He was doubled over with one hand on the wall of the building. His hair was a little longer than last time Spencer had seen him - Jesus, months ago - but he still looked just like Brendon. Spencer had seen him throw up enough times, although almost always after a show, when he’d drunk too much on an empty stomach and the lights were too hot.
"Yo," said Spencer, standing a little way back. He was wearing new jeans, he didn’t need to get them all pukey.
Brendon sighed. "Of course," he muttered, and stood up. He tried a big smile, but it looked a little weak, even in the lamplight of the parking lot. "Spencer, hey."
Spencer considered Brendon for a second. "You didn’t start drinking already, right?" he asked. "Did you fly off to L.A. and let Pete give you a drinking problem? Again?"
Brendon laughed. "Nah," he said. "I’m just preparing for the set. You know, acid is awesome for the vocal chords."
"I’ve heard that," Spencer agreed solemnly. There was a weird, awkward minute. Spencer hadn’t realized just how much he missed Brendon until he was around again. "Hey, stupid, I haven’t seen you in months, I don’t even get a hug?"
Brendon lit up for real. "Awww," he said. "You’re such a pussy." Then he threw himself at Spencer, and it was totally normal again, Brendon hanging off Spencer’s neck like he always had. He didn’t smell like beer at all, Spencer noticed, and frowned a little.
"You really came out," said Brendon happily. "Dude, I appreciate it. I do. I told them to put your name on the list, just in case. Yours and Ryan’s, but…" He paused. "He’s not here, right?"
Spencer shook his head. Something flashed over Brendon’s face, hurt, maybe, being chased by resignation. "Okay," said Brendon. "I figured. He’s touchy."
"Aren’t you on soon?" Spencer asked.
For a second Brendon looked absolutely panicked. "Yeah," he said, voice tight. "Oh, Christ. Yeah."
Spencer nodded. "You’re excited, right?" he said. "Super psyched? Throwing up right before your set has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with, like, bad eggs at lunch?"
Brendon wrinkled up his nose. He’d never been any good at hiding anything, not from the band at least. "I’m gonna get used to it," he said. "I’m sure I can get over my paralyzing fear of walking out there by myself, right? If, y’know, I was scared. Which I’m totally not."
"You want me to hold your hand?" Spencer asked, trying not to smile.
"You mock my pain," Brendon accused, pointing.
"Yeah," said Spencer. "A little. But hell, I’m here, aren’t I?"
Brendon smiled gratefully. "You are," he said. "Dude, I-"
Someone stuck his head out the door. "Brendon, five," he said.
Brendon nodded, sucking in a long breath and then blowing it out slowly. "Shit," he said. "I’m actually going to do this. What was I thinking, Spencer, shit."
Spencer had come there a little bit to talk Brendon out of it, hoping he’d be awful and he could report back to Ryan that Brendon was miserable and lonely and they could have him back. But he looked so lost that Spencer just shrugged. "You’re thinking you love to play, and you haven’t gotten to lately, and that you’re gonna be awesome," he said.
Brendon nodded tightly. He shook his hands out. "What if I suck?" he said.
"You never suck on stage," said Spencer. Brendon bit his lip. "Seriously, dude, off stage you are a total fuck up, but on stage you’re kind of magic. I promise."
Brendon threw himself at Spencer again, just for a second. "I love you," he said quickly, and then ran inside.
"Yeah," Spencer yelled after him. "You’d better!" He felt a little weird so he kicked the heel of his sneaker against the asphalt for a minute, until his stomach settled down, and then he followed Brendon in to watch the show.
--
Ryan was sitting on the couch in the dark when Spencer got home. Hobo had her head cocked to one side, watching him suspiciously. She didn’t move when Spencer walked in, not until Spencer threw himself on the couch. Then she ran around in a circle a couple of times and curled up on the floor.
"It’s a little bit creepy," said Spencer. "You sitting alone in the dark., I mean."
"I was just on my way to bed," Ryan explained.
"Hmm," said Spencer.
Ryan crossed his arms. "I was," he said.
"Okay," Spencer agreed. He let the silence stretch, listening to Hobo whuffle underneath her paws.
"Fine, I give," Ryan said. "How was he?"
Spencer smirked. "And so you see, Doctor Jones, there is nothing you can possess that I can not take away-" he started, and Ryan elbowed him in the stomach. "Ow. Dude, pointy. You want the truth?"
Ryan nodded.
"He was really good," Spencer sighed. "I mean, it’s Brendon, right? He was nervous as shit, but he sounded great. And the new stuff is… It’s him. It’s a little folkier, a little catchier, a little less artsy."
Ryan snapped, "Okay, I get it, he’s a solo artist now, he’s-"
"He doesn’t like performing alone," said Spencer calmly. "Would you chill the fuck out, please?"
Ryan deflated a little bit. "Yeah?"
"He asked me if you were there, and he looked a little heartbroken when you weren’t."
"Well, what did he expect?"
Spencer leaned over and put his head on Ryan’s bony shoulder. "He was hoping nine years of friendship would trump a couple of months of petty fighting."
"That’s not fair."
"Brendon doesn’t fight fair." That was a truth universally acknowledged among the band. "He’s playing again. Come with me."
Ryan shook his head. Spencer waited.
--
Spencer was planning to go with or without Ryan, and Ryan spent most of the afternoon banging around his house scaring Hobo. Around the time they actually needed to go if they were going to make it before Brendon played, Keltie came downstairs and put her hands on her hips.
"You’re being mean," she said sternly to Ryan.
"No, I’m not," he said.
Keltie frowned. "Mean," she repeated. "Knock it off and go hear your friend play. If you put out a solo record-"
"Which I wouldn’t do."
"--He’d be there in a heartbeat." She wrapped her arms around Ryan’s neck.
Ryan looked at Spencer, but Spencer just shrugged. Keltie was basically right.
"I decided that if you try and take him out of the wedding party I’m going to make him one of my bridesmaids," Keltie said. "And we’ll hang out and drink margaritas and try on hats without you."
"He’d wear the dress just to annoy me," said Ryan darkly.
Keltie kissed his cheek. "He would if I asked him to," she agreed. "So you’d better go get your hands on him first."
Ryan tried to look annoyed, but he wasn’t any good at that with Keltie around. "Okay," he said. "Fine. I can be the bigger person."
"Bigger than what?" asked Keltie, poking him in the arm. "A stiff breeze would carry you away forever."
Ryan tickled her side and she shrieked and ran upstairs again. "We should call Jon," said Ryan. "Make it a band thing."
They wouldn’t have been doing it if there had been any real ‘band things,’ Spencer thought, but he grabbed his phone.
--
Word had obviously gotten out that Brendon Urie was playing, because there were a lot more hopeful twelve year olds this time. Ryan pulled on his asshole sunglasses. "They aren’t old enough to get into the club," he said. "Right?"
"Maybe we should have called Zack," said Spencer. He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged.
That made Ryan’s face go kind of blank, which Spencer pretended not to notice. Rudy, Pete’s singer-songwriter, gave them a raised eyebrow and a flat stare as they walked by. Spencer was twenty-four, he wasn’t used to feeling like an elder statesman backstage. Whatever, screw that kid. He didn’t know what he was in for yet.
Brendon had his guitar out, sitting on a amp backstage. "What’s up?" said Spencer.
"Hey," said Brendon, looking up. "Hi, Ryan."
Ryan held up one hand, the other still in his pocket. He hadn’t taken off his glasses.
Brendon waited a beat, but Ryan didn’t say anything, so he just nodded. "Thanks for coming by. How are you guys?"
The tension was palpable, and Spencer hated it. He wanted to shove Ryan, or yell at Brendon to open up and be his normal spazzy self, but Brendon was holding on to his guitar’s neck with white-knuckled fingers and a practiced casual expression.
"We’re good," said Spencer. "We figured since it was only a four-show tour we should stop by."
"Cool," said Brendon.
Spencer nodded and waited, rocking up on the balls of his feet, but neither of his asshole friends said anything to each other. Spencer was going to tell Keltie all about this when he got home, and she was going to be pissed. Spencer gave Ryan a look that he hoped said Your fiancée is gonna kill you.
Ryan glared. Even behind the glasses, Spencer could tell. "So," said Ryan, "do you have enough songs for a whole set, or are you playing some of our stuff?" His tone made it clear that "our" meant him and Spencer and Jon, not Brendon.
Brendon flashed through really fucking annoyed and then smiled sunnily at Ryan. "I’m just opening," he said. "So I’m only playing four or five songs. The album won’t be out for another few weeks anyway. Then Pete thinks I should do a real tour. Maybe you can come see that one. Since you aren’t doing anything."
"Oh, fuck you-"
"Hey," said Spencer, stepping between them. This was reminiscent of the heyday of the Guitar Hero War, and Spencer never needed to live through that again. "Knock it off. I didn’t bring you here to be a dick."
Ryan crossed his arms huffily.
"I’m sorry you had to drag him out here," muttered Brendon, standing up. "I’m gonna go warm up."
"Brendon-"
"Shane’s around here somewhere. You can go hang out with him," said Brendon. He shoved Spencer a little as he walked off, so he could avoid getting too close to Ryan. Spencer thought for a second about catching Brendon’s arm and making him stay, forcing him to talk to Ryan. But by the time Spencer started to figure out what he’d say, Brendon had vanished, and Ryan was stomping his foot.
"That wasn’t my fault."
"Shut up," said Spencer. "I’m pissed at both of you."
"He’s the one who-"
"God, grow up, Ryan!" Spencer snapped.
Ryan fell silent.
Spencer shook his head. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he said.
"A real tour," said Ryan quietly. "Without us. That doesn’t upset you?"
It broke Spencer’s heart. "He’ll come back," said Spencer confidently. Unless you keep being an asshole, he warned Ryan with an eyebrow.
Ryan shrugged uncomfortably. Sorry, he said with a hitched shoulder. I’ll try.
"Yo, that has always been creepy as shit to watch," said Shane, appearing out of nowhere. "You know psychic powers aren’t normal, right?"
"Hey, dude," said Spencer, hugging him hello. Ryan did his stiff wave again. Try harder, Spencer ordered, frowning. Ryan nodded.
--
"Paz wants to say hi," said Jon. "Give Brendon the phone, Spence."
Brendon was laughing, loud and bright. He’d sweated through his shirt just playing an acoustic set by himself for twenty minutes. It had improved his mood about a million percent, though. Spencer handed him the phone and Shane snapped a picture.
"What?" said Brendon. "Oh, it’s the baby! Hi, baby! I missed you! How are your mommy and daddy?"
Ryan was standing stiffly against the wall. Shane snapped a picture of him, and Ryan pushed his glasses up on top of his head. He attempted a real, human smile, which Spencer knew wasn’t easy for him.
"Well bah bah bah to you, young lady," said Brendon to the phone, and then made a kissy noise. Spencer could hear Paz giggling.
"You’re getting spit on my phone," said Spencer, holding out his hand impatiently.
"I have to go," Brendon told Paz mournfully. "Your mean old Uncle Spencer doesn’t love me anymore."
"Oh my god, give me that," said Spencer, grabbing the phone and then swatting Brendon with it. Brendon laughed and shook sweat out of his hair.
"I’m not flying out to visit until you make those two behave," said Jon. "You better get on that. This baby is getting cuter by the day."
"I’m trying," Spencer promised.
Brendon made a face at Shane. "Dude, stop," he said. "What, are you making a scrap book? I know you miss me, but-"
"I’m documenting the rise of a super star," said Shane. "Smile for the camera, pretty boy."
Brendon threw a towel at him.
"You sounded good," said Spencer, kicking Ryan’s ankle.
"Did he?" said Jon. "Damn."
Brendon beamed at Spencer. "I think it was better than last time," he said. "I was a little more on."
"It was okay," said Ryan. It was grudging like he was pulling teeth, but Brendon knew as well as Spencer did that Ryan would always err on the side of meanness when he was giving an opinion.
Brendon’s smile dimmed, but he nodded. "Thanks," he said. "I uh… Thanks for coming tonight."
Ryan nodded and pressed his lips together.
"Baby steps," said Spencer to Jon.
"Not for another few months," said Jon, and Paz giggled in the background.
--
Hobo had never learned to sit or heel on command, but Spencer had gotten pretty close to teaching her to hide her treats in Ryan’s shoes. At least, he liked giving her treats and watching her run around with them in a tizzy, and he liked hearing Ryan yell about it afterwards. Any connection between the two was probably a coincidence, but Spencer wanted credit.
Most of the time, though, Spencer was bored as shit. He texted Jon, but Jon’s texts had never been super coherent before the baby, and since the baby if he replied at all it was usually tired ttyl? Spencer didn’t need to text Ryan, Ryan was always home ripping pictures of weddings out of magazines and covering the basement walls with them, sort of the same way a serial killer might rip out pictures of his victim. Spencer tried to avoid the basement.
That left Brendon, but texting Brendon had always involved some risks. Spencer texted wut r u doin? and a few minutes later got a photo back. It took him a minute or two to decipher what he was seeing - it looked a lot like someone’s arm, and a blanket. Spencer frowned.
I think hs nam is Dan? Brendon texted an hour or so later, and Spencer groaned and turned his phone off, vowing never to text Brendon again.
Brendon sent unsolicited texts, too, usually we r partying like rok stars, coors lite an guitar hero!! or This girl jus asked if u wer stil singl, do u lik tong peircings? Spencer texted back omg ur gross and considered girls with tongue piercings idly for the rest of the afternoon.
Brendon stopped texting for a couple of weeks, and then suddenly Spencer got an email that said DON’T TELL ROSS DID U C? and an attachment that was a one-paragraph Rolling Stone review of Brendon’s new album. It wasn’t entirely flattering, something about overreaching from a band that had never been that special to begin with. Spencer growled and looked at the reviewer’s name, and promised himself that if he ever ran into the guy at a party he’d punch him in the stomach.
my album is dun u wanto c? Brendon texted abruptly one afternoon.
Spencer’s stomach flopped over a couple of times. He didn’t, it made everything too real. Before he had a chance to figure out how to word that in text he got an email with ALBUM ART!!!!! as the subject line.
It was pretty, Spencer thought, and wished it wasn’t. Everything was brown and muted and a little abstract, which fit Brendon’s new sound pretty well. There wasn’t a picture of Brendon anywhere, just a list of eleven tracks with stupid punning titles and on the back a photo of an acoustic guitar.
U shud get shane 2 take sum pictures of u 4 all the girls, Spencer texted.
Ur missing the point, Brendon replied.
--
"What do you think?" Keltie asked. She had a giant white-brimmed hat with a long trailing veil on her head.
"I think you look like an extra from My Fair Lady," said Spencer.
On the computer screen, beaming in from Chicago, Cassie shushed him. "You look amazing," she said. "Oh my god. I’m going to cry so much."
"Shut up," said Keltie, putting on a different hat. "How about this?"
"Paz is clapping," said Cassie.
"Paz has been tricked into thinking all grown ups wear hats all the time," Spencer grumbled. "Do I have to be here for this?"
Keltie poked him in the shoulder. "My maid of honor is in Chicago, Spencer. And Ryan doesn’t want to see the dress before the ceremony."
"Right, but I’m a guy," Spencer pointed out.
Cassie and Keltie exchanged looks. "Honey," said Keltie. "You’re Ryan’s best friend. Out of all the people in the world who might have opinions on hats -"
"Right?" said Cassie.
"-I mean, you have the necessary job experience," said Keltie. "Plus, no offense, but your whole band is a little gay, so."
Spencer crossed his arms grumpily. "You’re marrying one of us," he said. "And even Brendon sleeps with girls sometimes."
"Uh huh," said Keltie unconcernedly. "How about a scarf. What do you think? I’m wearing a mini-dress, I might get cold."
"Paz likes it!" said Cassie.
"You have five months until the wedding," Spencer moaned, but no one was listening to him.
--
Brendon had an album release party the night before his new tour started. Spencer and Keltie dragged Ryan along, because it was going to be kind of a small thing, and because Keltie said she was tired of Ryan moping.
They had a suite of rooms in a swank casino hotel, and Pete had arranged for the whole place to be drowning in liquor. Spencer got to say a quick hello to half of Cobra Starship and half of The Cab before Ryan dragged him, stomping, out on to a balcony.
"This sucks!" Ryan said, yelling a little to be heard over Pete’s idea of mood music.
"We have to say congratulations," said Spencer stubbornly.
"Congratulations, you’re an asshole," Ryan grumbled.
Spencer punched him in the arm.
He planned to get Ryan high, because Ryan was always nicer when he was stoned, but Pete and Brendon came tripping out on to the balcony a second later. Brendon looked exhausted and sweaty and he was laughing at something Pete had said.
"Ross!" said Pete, grabbing Ryan in a headlock that was also sort of a hug.
"Get off me, my hair," Ryan complained, trying not to smile.
Brendon’s face was red and he smelled like beer. "Thanks for coming," he said, looking at Spencer and not Ryan.
"Dude, of course," said Spencer.
"It’s… Nice," said Ryan grudgingly. He and Brendon stared at each other for a minute.
"Yo, someone needs to hit the bong," said Pete. "I’ll be back, dude." He patted Brendon on the shoulder and then pulled Ryan back into the party.
Brendon leaned on the railing and the wind ruffled his hair. Vegas never really got cold, but it was a little chilly after dark. "Really, it was cool of you to show up," he said, tripping over the words a little.
"How wasted are you?" asked Spencer.
Brendon laughed. "I’m like… You remember Pittsburgh?"
"Oh, shit, dude. Are you gonna throw up on me?"
"Nah. I just need to get some air." Brendon leaned so far over the railing that for a second Spencer thought he was going to fall to his death. Spencer leaned over and grabbed the back of Brendon’s shirt. It was all sweaty.
"Please don’t swan dive," he said.
Brendon sighed. "Okay." He turned around and leaned against the railing, shutting his eyes for a second. "The tour starts tomorrow," he said. "It’s gonna suck."
"You love touring," said Spencer. "That’s why you’re doing this, right?"
"I thought I was doing it to hurt Ryan’s feelings," Brendon said, lightly mocking. Spencer punched his arm. "Nah, I just… It’s a lot of shows, and I don’t know how to do a whole set by myself," said Brendon. "I’m opening second, we haven’t opened second since forever. And I’m sharing a bus and I don’t have a tech and you won’t - I mean. I’m traveling by myself. I don’t know if I like that."
Then don’t go without us, Spencer almost said. He swallowed it down instead. "You’ll be great. I expect you to call me every fucking day."
Brendon laughed. "You could come with me if you’re that bored," he said. "Pete wouldn’t mind."
"I’m not bored."
"Ha."
"I’m not. I’m only ten pages into Anna Karenina. Ryan says it’s life-changing."
Brendon laughed so hard he started to cry. "Oh my god, Spence," he said, leaning on the railing for support. "That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard."
Spencer tried to be annoyed, but it was hard not to laugh when Brendon was laughing. "So stay home and entertain me," he said.
Brendon shook his head. "I… I’ll call, okay? I miss hanging out with you. With all of you."
"Yeah," said Spencer, looking at his hands where they were holding on to the railing. "I miss you. I mean, we do. Ryan does, he just won’t say so."
Brendon shrugged. "I get it," he said.
Spencer dug his phone out of his pocket. "Call Jon so he can congratulate you and tell you what a genius Paz is. Did you know she’s standing up? Yesterday she figured out how to -"
"-How to hold on to the table and walk herself to the other side of the living room to steal his donut, I know," Brendon laughed. "I thought he was bad about the cats, dude." He flipped open Spencer’s phone and flashed Spencer a grin. "Jonny Walker! You are missing a hell of a party, dude, listen!" Brendon said, pushing open the door to the suite.
Spencer folded his arms and shivered a little.
--
Brendon called after the first night of the tour, but just to say, "Oh my god, I’m going to die, have to go!" Then he skipped a couple of days. Spencer tried not to be too curious, because every time he mentioned it Ryan looked like he wanted to strangle someone.
He called Brendon in the early afternoon, when he thought he might be awake but not warming up yet. "Dude," Brendon said. "This is amazing."
"Yeah?" said Spencer. A tiny part of him still wished it was going badly; that was what Brendon deserved for abandoning him. He petted Hobo absently with one hand. "What’s up?"
"It’s hilarious. You would be laughing your ass off. I can’t find my CDs, I suck at teching for myself, I was late yesterday, and everyone else on the tour knows each other." Brendon laughed. "You would not believe what a disaster it is. But it’s touring, you know? Performing. It’s great."
Spencer did know, and he was surprised at how suddenly and intensely he wanted to be out on tour again. "So it’s fine, but you’re a disaster," he said. "What city are you in right now?"
"I’m… not sure? The venue looks kind of familiar. It’s uh… squarish, and there’s a sidewalk out front."
"If you figure out where you are I can come visit," said Spencer.
Brendon paused. "I… You don’t have to do that," he said. "I know you have a busy schedule of hanging out with Ryan all the time. I don’t want to get interfere with all your best friend time."
A year or two earlier Spencer had figured out the difference between Brendon’s ‘just kidding’ tone and his ‘just kidding because my feelings are hurt’ tone. It made Spencer miss him, even if he was being kind of a bitch.
Spencer wanted to get out of Vegas. He loved hanging out with Ryan and Hobo, but he’d had plenty of time to do that. He missed being annoyed by Brendon’s chatter. He missed the rush of setting up for the show, and he missed being trapped on a bus where no one expected him to do dishes or eat broccoli with dinner.
"Seriously," Spencer said. "Figure out where you are, space cadet, and I’ll come out. Just for a day or two, you know. Then I can come back and tell Ryan how bad you suck. It’ll be great."
"Ryan would never forgive me," said Brendon. "Like, he thinks he’s mad now? But if I stole you he’d never get over it."
"Whatever," said Spencer. His stomach hurt. If Brendon didn’t want him around that was fine; he wasn’t going to beg.
"I - No, Spencer -" Brendon sighed. There was a long pause. Hobo whined and stuck her cold nose on Spencer’s hand so he’d start petting again. "I’m gonna be in Philadelphia tomorrow and the day after," said Brendon. "For the record, that is not an invitation, it’s an announcement."
Spencer grinned. "Oh, good," he said. "Because I am way too busy to come hang out with you."
"Yeah, I can tell. What would Hobo do without someone to pet her twelve hours a day?"
"What do you do without someone to pet you twelve hours a day?"
"I have to go do a show," said Brendon. "To which you are not invited."
"I won’t see you later, then," said Spencer. Brendon hung up and Spencer went to pack.
--
Ryan kicked Spencer’s suitcase a couple of times. "Will you at least sabotage his set for me?" he asked.
"No," said Spencer.
"You suck," said Ryan.
"Yeah," said Spencer. He put his hands on his hips. "You hugging me goodbye?"
Ryan gave Spencer a hug, pointy elbow digging in to Spencer’s shoulder and scarf getting in Spencer’s mouth. "When are you coming back?"
"Can’t live without me for a couple of days," Spencer teased, but he was grateful for it. "You go plan a wedding. Something where your guests don’t have to climb a mountain to get to the ceremony."
"Beach," said Ryan. "That’s Keltie’s new idea. Getting married on the beach. You think?"
"It’s very you," Spencer agreed. He backed up and grabbed his bag. "I’ll call you a lot," he said.
"You’d better." Someone honked at Ryan’s illegal airport drop-off parking. "Tell him… I mean, don’t say that I… Whatever, never mind, don’t tell him anything from me."
Spencer rolled his eyes. "Okay, I’ll just accidentally mention how you’re crying yourself to sleep at night because he’s not around," he said, and headed through the glass doors.
"That’s not funny!" Ryan yelled. "You’re not funny, Spencer!"
--
Spencer arrived while Brendon was performing, which meant he got the world’s sweatiest hug when Brendon was done. "You actually came," said Brendon a couple of times. "Holy shit, how bored were you?"
"What, I have to be miserable to want to visit you?" Spencer joked.
Brendon waited just a second too long before he said, "Of course not. Hey, so, let me introduce you to everybody, this is Adam and that’s Joe and you know Dan and Dan from Pete’s last - remember? - and this is Virginia, don’t let her near your clothes, she’ll fuck them up."
"Dude," said Spencer, but Brendon wouldn’t be dissuaded from his mission to drag Spencer past every single person on the tour and introduce him. Spencer wasn’t going to remember anyone.
Eventually they ended up in the parking lot, where a bunch of roadies and techs were smoking. "Is this Pete’s underage tour?" asked Spencer. Everyone looked twelve years old.
Brendon laughed. "I feel old," he said. "This is my mid-life crisis, isn’t it."
"You’d better live to be more than forty-eight," said Spencer, rolling his eyes. "This is just you being… You."
Brendon beamed at him. "Exactly," he said. "Oh my god, wait until you see the bus I’m sharing it’s like… The smallest bus I’ve ever seen. Zack would have to walk around like a hunchback, not that he’d fit through the door."
"Doll-sized, just like you," Spencer said.
"You wait until you have to try and fit in the bunks," Brendon warned. "Then you’ll be sorry you’re so tall."
He was so happy. Spencer could see it all over his face, in the way he was standing, in the tone of his voice. Brendon hadn’t sounded like that in a while, not since the last tour, before Jon got the news from Cassie. Spencer liked the way he glowed a little bit, the way he bounced up on the balls of his feet because he couldn’t contain himself.
"So you got somewhere for me to dump my stuff?" Spencer asked.
"Mi bunk es su bunk," said Brendon. "Kidding, you totally have your own."
"Well, good," said Spencer. "You kick, and you steal all the blankets."
"One time, Spencer Smith, one time," said Brendon, aggrieved. He bumped Spencer with his shoulder and grinned at him a little, like they were sharing the best joke ever.
"I’m glad I’m out here," said Spencer. He couldn’t put it into words, exactly, but he felt better than he had in a while.
"Yeah?" said Brendon, and for just a second he sounded uncertain. "Okay. Well, me too, then."
--
The tour was a giant mess because the headlining band had never headlined before, and nearly everyone else was on their first tour. Brendon knew what he was doing onstage, but off stage he was a disorganized disaster.
There was allegedly a box full of his CDs for selling somewhere, but he wasn’t sure where. He missed two interviews because he’d forgotten to write down what day they were. And he kept showing up late because he didn’t have Zack around to drag him off the bus when he was napping.
"You flew out to babysit?" said Ryan, and Spencer could hear him rolling his eyes.
"No. But I can’t just… I mean, if it was you, and let’s just say your electricity got turned off-" Spencer started.
"Shut up, that was one time," said Ryan.
Spencer sighed in to the phone. "Right," he said. "So I’m not babysitting, I’m just being a good friend."
"You like being bossy," said Ryan.
Spencer shrugged.
"Fine, enjoy yourself. Hey, what if I wore a white tuxedo and Keltie wore a black dress? Do you think-"
"My mother would kill you both," said Spencer. "Dude. No."
"You’re such a traditionalist," said Ryan witheringly.
"Guilty as charged. Hey, I have to go, we’re playing tournament Guitar Hero, and my team is up."
"You’re going to win; you have Brendon."
"Right, but it’s no fun to win if I’m not there to gloat." There was screaming from on the bus. "Tell Keltie I said hi."
"Fine, fine," Ryan grumbled, and Spencer ran in to catch up on the game.
--
Touring included almost as much downtime as lying around on Ryan’s couch, which Spencer had forgotten. It had been a long time since he’d toured without being the headliner, and without needing to promote anything. He kicked around for a couple of days keeping himself busy with Brendon’s to-do list and his calendar, but mostly Spencer ended up standing around venues watching Brendon smoke and wishing he owned a warmer winter coat.
"Pete thinks I should get a band for the next tour," said Brendon. He was never cold, not even when there was snow on the ground like there was in - where were they? Spencer needed to check the calendar. Boston, maybe.
Spencer nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets for warmth. Brendon wasn’t supposed to be planning a next tour already, this one wasn’t even halfway over. It freaked Spencer out a little.
"I don’t know, though, that feels kind of weird to me," said Brendon. "If there are gonna be instruments, I should be playing them, right?"
"I guess," said Spencer. "You know you can’t play them all by yourself at once, right?"
"I could if I tried hard enough," Brendon insisted. He jumped up and down a couple of times. "I bet I could at least play guitar and drums at the same time. Like, if Rick Allen can do it with one arm, and I have two-"
"We are not getting you a one-armed drumset," said Spencer immediately.
Brendon pouted. "Please?" he said, batting his eyes.
Spencer shivered. "I don’t know why you think that works on me," he said. "That’s never worked on me."
"It works on lots of people," said Brendon.
"Yeah, but not me," said Spencer. "I’m immune to you."
Brendon sidled up right next to him, pressing into Spencer’s space. He was warm like a radiator, so Spencer didn’t mind that much. "No one is immune to me," said Brendon. "Look at this ass." He bumped Spencer with his hip.
It was a great ass, but Brendon didn’t need the encouragement. "Ehhh," said Spencer. "I’ve seen better."
"What? Where? No, you haven’t," said Brendon. "Ryan doesn’t have an ass-"
"And I’m not hooking up with Ryan," Spencer agreed.
Brendon blinked. "You aren’t hooking up with me, either," he said.
His chin was almost on Spencer’s shoulder, and his breath was turning to fog in the air between them. Spencer shivered again, cheeks heating up. "I didn’t mean…" he started. "I wouldn’t… If I were going to hook up with you, your ass wouldn’t be a factor, I think was my point."
Brendon stared at him, totally quiet, just for a minute. Then he grinned, "My ass is always a factor. Admit it, Spencer, you’re hot for my body."
"I’m cold," Spencer said. "Can we go inside now?"
Brendon shrugged and dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk, stomping it out with his sneaker. "Yeah," he said. "Wimp."
"Shut up," said Spencer, and followed him into the venue.
2/4