2/4
Brendon’s set in New York went badly. Panic had played plenty of bad shows, but Spencer felt it more sharply when it was Brendon up on stage by himself. The amps weren’t plugged in right and the balance was off and Brendon had been up too late drinking with the techs the night before, and the audience seemed half-dead. Brendon stormed off stage and stomped into the bus.
Spencer followed him cautiously. It was weird sharing a bus with lots of people Spencer didn’t really know, and he didn’t need any of them watching him talk Brendon down from a hissy fit. Most of them were backstage, though, and Brendon had the couch entirely to himself.
"Hey," said Spencer, sitting down next to him.
Brendon’s face was hard and grumpy. "Don’t," he said flatly.
"Don’t what?" Spencer asked. Jon always made this shit look easy. He tried putting an arm around Brendon’s shoulders.
Brendon shrugged him off and slid away from him on the couch. "Don’t," he repeated. "I’m not a little kid, I don’t need a cuddle."
"I just thought-" Spencer started.
"I fucked up, I’ll deal with it," said Brendon. He stood up and paced for a second, and then threw himself back down on the couch. "Christ, I don’t need to be baby talked, okay? You guys are always - I just need some fucking space."
Spencer held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, dude, I was just trying to help," he said.
"Well I don’t-I’m not - Screw your pity hugs," said Brendon. He always tripped over his sentences when he was upset.
"It’s not a pity hug," Spencer said. "I like hugging you."
Brendon deflated. "Fuck. That’s not fair."
"And you like getting hugged," Spencer added carefully. "It’s not because I think you’re childish. I just think you’re… tactile." He moved one arm out on the couch, making it clear that if Brendon didn’t want to touch him he didn’t have to. Brendon wavered, but he moved over a little, just enough to not-quite lean on Spencer’s shoulder. There was still space between them; Spencer wasn’t touching Brendon, but he could feel the heat of Brendon’s arm.
"I fucked up," said Brendon quietly. "I hate that. And don’t say ‘it happens to everyone,’ I’ll hit you, I swear I will."
"You fucked up," Spencer agreed. "So you’ll do better next time."
Brendon sighed and leaned against Spencer. "You think?"
"Remember the show where we had to stop halfway through a song because I was playing too slowly?" said Spencer.
Brendon laughed a little. "Did Ryan send you out here to sabotage me?" he asked. "You can’t do it, right, because I’m too pathetic."
Spencer flicked him on the nose. "I’m not here because I feel sorry for you," he said.
"So why are you here?" asked Brendon.
Spencer shrugged a little uncomfortably. "I like being on tour," he said. "I like hanging out with you."
"Even when I suck?"
"Especially when you suck. That way I can call Ryan and gloat."
Brendon poked him in the side. "You don’t really, right?"
"Nah." Spencer shifted his arm so it was around Brendon. It was kind of a more manly hug. He liked how Brendon didn’t mind being physically close; Ryan had never been a huge fan.
Brendon tilted his face up. "I like having you around, Spencer Smith," he said quietly. This, Spencer thought with a pang, was almost how it had been with Haley, back when things had been good. He didn’t feel this comfortable with many people, he didn’t understand many people this well. Except it was better than it had been with Haley, because he had understood her, but she had never really gotten him.
"Are you-" Brendon started, voice going low and hoarse.
"Am I what?" asked Spencer.
Brendon shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind. I’m gonna go for a walk until I feel better. I’ll see you later."
Spencer shrugged and let him go. Then he texted Ryan, Bden being weirder than usual.
Ryan replied, How can u tell? and Spencer laughed.
--
Brendon drowned his sorrows in half a case of beer and a tech named Angela. She wasn’t his type at all, as near as Spencer had figured Brendon’s type out over the years. Except that when he was upset, Brendon’s type became "here." Not even available; god knew he’d gotten the band in trouble fucking around with people in relationships more than once. He just looked for whomever was closest and willing.
Spencer knew glaring at Brendon wouldn’t do any good, so he didn’t bother. Still, he didn’t much appreciate walking around the corner and seeing Brendon with one hand up Angela’s shirt, apparently while trying to swallow her tongue.
"Get a room," Spencer said, rolling his eyes.
Brendon ignored him. To be fair, he was pretty busy at the time.
--
It was an awesome party. The music was ridiculously loud, the joints being passed around were the really good stuff, and there was an endless supply of beer. Spencer was sitting on the couch with this kid named Rusty who played drums, and a tech named Eddie who’d been on tour with Panic a couple of years ago.
"It’s cool of you to come hang out," said Eddie, shouting over the noise in the hotel room. "I thought your band would be pissed."
"Nah," Spencer yelled back. He was too mellow to consider being pissed at anyone at the moment. "It’s Brendon. He’s like… You know. He’s Brendon."
"I think he’s getting hotter, too," said Eddie. Spencer stared disapprovingly at him. "What? Fuck you, you know you guys blew up because he and Ross are the prettiest." Eddie rolled his eyes.
"He’s Brendon, he’s not… Y’know. Hot," said Spencer. Rusty laughed and Eddie raised a skeptical, drunken eyebrow. "Or if he is, it’s none of my fucking business," said Spencer. "Or yours, so shut up."
"Dude. Fine. It’s no one’s business but his that he’s hooked up with half the tour, I guess," Eddie said. Spencer smacked him on the arm.
It was unfortunate that Brendon chose that minute to tear himself away from the person he’d been hitting on, to sit in Spencer’s lap instead. His Corona sloshed dangerously, and Spencer pushed it away. He didn’t need a beer bath.
"Hi," said Brendon, batting his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Spencer’s neck, and his mouth was way, way too close to Spencer’s for comfort. "Damn you look good, and I’m drunk," Brendon sang, trying for breathy and seductive but mostly giggling.
"Yeah, you are, get off me," Spencer said, halfheartedly shoving at Brendon, because Eddie was smirking.
"No, no, I’m serious," said Brendon. He almost hit Spencer in the head with his bottle. "Am I the kind of girl you’d take home to mom?"
"I’ve taken you home lots of times," said Spencer. "My mom loves you. You had Thanksgiving with us twice, remember?"
Brendon looked thoughtful. "Your mom is hot," he said.
"Oh, gross," groaned Spencer.
Brendon laughed, resting his forehead against Spencer’s shoulder. His breath was making Spencer’s neck feel clammy and a little sticky with beer. "She is, though," said Brendon. "You get that hip thing from her. And your bad temper. And your hair, I think." He tugged on the hair that was curling over Spencer’s collar, because Spencer hadn’t bothered to cut it in, god, a year nearly.
"And you get your low fucking tolerance from your mom," said Spencer. "Mormons can’t hold their liquor."
Brendon sat up, looking mildly offended. "I never even had a soda until I was thirteen, what do expect?" he asked. "Plus, I’m the only ex-Mormon you know, so you shouldn’t gener… General… Gen-"
"Generalize," said Spencer, and nearly got knocked in the head by Brendon, gesturing wildly with his beer bottle.
"Yes, that," Brendon agreed. "It’s bad form."
Spencer started laughing. "Being a drunken asshole’s okay, though?" he said. "Getting to third base in front of a whole bunch of strangers is totally cool?"
Brendon poked him in the chest. "Judgey," he said. "You’re just jealous."
"I don’t want to get to third base with you," said Spencer, frowning.
Brendon burst into giggles. "I meant," he said. "I meant you wanted her. "
Eddie was openly laughing at both of them. Spencer’s face got a little red. "Shut up," he said. "I don’t want to get to any base with either of you."
It couldn’t have been coincidence that Brendon ground down against Spencer’s lap a little. Spencer tried not to gasp. He just hadn’t had sex in a while, he told himself firmly. "Stop," said Spencer.
"You wouldn’t take me home, huh," said Brendon, sighing.
"You’re drunk and stupid," said Spencer.
"I mean, to Ryan," said Brendon.
Spencer frowned. "You already know Ryan. What are you talking about-"
"Nothing, never mind, it’s cool," said Brendon. He tipped off Spencer’s lap and landed on the floor, laughing. "Oh my god, I think I’m really drunk, Spencer."
"No shit," said Spencer, but he stood up and pulled Brendon to his feet, too. "I think we should split. We’re too old for this."
"Party like a rockstar," Brendon sang to himself. Spencer took the beer out of his hand and gave it to Eddie, who was still laughing at them, and he dragged Brendon out.
--
Brendon was sort of hot, Spencer noted uncomfortably, with his hair a little shaggier and his jeans as tight as always, and no Ryan to cajole him into wearing bizarrely flowered shirts. He wasn’t shaving as often, and he was wearing his glasses more, and Spencer hadn’t ever thought of himself as someone who found bedhead and glasses and stubble attractive, but hey.
Maybe that was one of the reasons things hadn’t worked out with Haley, Spencer thought, and laughed at himself.
Attractive or not, Brendon was still Brendon; he stole Spencer’s t-shirts and then lost them, he unapologetically ate off Spencer’s plate when Spencer wasn’t looking, and he texted Spencer dirty messages when Spencer was in the same room.
wen she leans ovr u can c shes not wearing a bra.
Spencer rolled his eyes and elbowed Brendon in the side, hard. Brendon laughed.
y don’t u care? rnt u lonely? Brendon texted a minute later.
"I’m going to turn this off," said Spencer, deliberately not looking at the girl who was warming up on stage.
u look lonely 2 me, SS.
Spencer held up his phone so Brendon could see him turning it off. "Why are you so worried about my loneliness?" asked Spencer.
"You’re going to get bored and leave me for Ryan," Brendon said lightly. "You’ve already been here for like, three weeks. I’m trying to hedge my bets."
"I can’t leave; you don’t know where you’re supposed to be at four this afternoon." Spencer shrugged. "I figure I have to stick around until the tour ends, right?"
"Yeah?" Brendon smiled uncertainly. "But that’s another two weeks. Aren’t you-"
"I’m not lonely," Spencer said, trying not to snap. "Okay? Jesus."
Brendon hummed to himself, miming playing a keyboard. "Okay," he said. "If you’re sure."
--
Spencer heard screaming and rolled his eyes. The girls lining up outside the venues tended to shriek any time anyone walked by. There wasn’t a ton of security around to stop them, because even the headlining band were pretty unknown. Spencer had only been recognized at two of the shows, and those girls had mostly elbowed each other and stared, wide-eyed, which he was used to.
"What’s going on?" said Rusty, looking up from the amp he was fiddling with.
"No idea," said Spencer. There was another shriek. "I’ll go look, maybe someone actually famous stopped by."
"Says you," Rusty yelled after him.
Spencer pushed open the back door. There were a group of girls clustered around Brendon, and two of them had a pretty tight grip on his arm. Spencer frowned. "Hey, hey, hang on-" Brendon was saying, and his smile looked strained.
It happened so fast that Spencer almost missed it. One girl reached out and grabbed Brendon’s hair, just as another looked up and recognized Spencer. There was a shriek that distracted Spencer just long enough for Brendon to get yanked aside - he stumbled and almost fell, disappearing into a sea of reaching arms and clawing fingers.
Spencer’s mind went blank. He elbowed a girl in the face - she was younger than his sisters, shit - grabbing for Brendon, trying to pull him back toward the door. He was yelling, mostly nonsense like, "Stop, yo, what the fuck!" but no one could hear him because everyone was shrieking.
The door behind him banged open again and Rusty and another guy from the opening band were there, shoving at the girls. Everyone was yelling, and then suddenly Spencer had both hands on Brendon and knocked people aside, dragging him back in.
The venue door slammed shut behind them.
Rusty was wide-eyed and shaking a little. "Holy shit," he said. "I changed my mind, I don’t wanna be famous."
"It’s not usually like that," Brendon said hoarsely. Spencer was holding on to his arms still, too tightly, and he could feel Brendon shaking a little.
Or maybe that was Spencer. He suddenly tasted copper in his mouth, and his heart was pounding in his ears, so hard it felt like the room was tipping.
"You’re bleeding," said Rusty. Spencer looked down. There was a long scratch mark on his arm, and another on Brendon’s neck.
"Shit, Spence, you okay?" said Brendon. His voice cracked on the last word, and he turned, shaking Spencer’s hands off, wrapping his arms around Spencer’s neck instead.
"I’m okay if you’re okay," said Spencer. Brendon nodded into his shoulder. He was still shaking a little bit, so Spencer wrapped his arms around Brendon, holding on tightly.
"That sucked," said Brendon, muffled.
"Yeah," Spencer agreed. His mind suddenly started offering up visions of all the bad things that could have happened - trampling, hitting, tearing, stabbing - and all the crazy things Panic fans had tried to do over the years.
"Dude, my ribs," said Brendon. "I can’t breathe."
"Deal with it," said Spencer.
--
"You called Zack?" Brendon demanded.
Spencer shrugged and stubbed out a cigarette against the venue wall. He didn’t feel the cold as long as he stayed out of the wind. And he couldn’t really feel anything except white-hot rage every time he looked at Brendon and saw the red marks all over his neck.
"I don’t need Zack," said Brendon. "I’m not… By myself I’m not-"
"I don’t care," said Spencer flatly. Brendon rubbed his hands together and scowled at him. "Stop speaking to me, throw a fit, see if I fucking care. You scared the shit out of me earlier-"
"I didn’t do anything-"
"And I promised Ryan I’d bring you back in one piece. Fuck, Brendon, I think my heart stopped when that girl grabbed you. The crazy fans who wanted your blood when you were touring with us still want it, okay? And now you’re easier to get to."
Brendon bounced up and down indignantly. "One incident is no big deal," he said.
Spencer shrugged again. "I’m not gonna just sit around and wait for it to happen again," he said. He dropped his voice a little. "Do you have any idea how badly that scared me? You could have gotten hurt."
"So could you," Brendon countered, but he sighed. "Fine. Get me another babysitter. Jesus Christ."
"I’m not a babysitter," Spencer said. It felt like the thousandth time he’d said it. "Knock it off. I’m here because I’m your friend."
Brendon considered that for a long minute. "I don’t know," he said finally. "I’m not… I don’t feel like a very good friend right now."
"What does that mean?" Spencer asked.
Brendon stared at his sneakers, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. "I…" he said. "I want…" He surged forward, suddenly, and kissed Spencer.
Really it was just a soft press of Brendon’s mouth against Spencer’s, just long enough for Spencer to blink and wonder what the hell was going on, and then Brendon pulled back and stuck his hands in his pockets.
"So. Anyway. Call Zack if you think you need to, worry wart." Brendon shrugged lopsidedly. "I’m gonna go warm up."
He vanished around the corner before Spencer could even think of anything to say.
--
r u free? im having an emergency.
Ryan called back forty seconds later. "What?" he said. "What kind of emergency? What’s going on? Are you okay? Is Brendon okay?"
Spencer was hiding out behind the bus. He didn’t actually need to be, because Brendon was performing in about three minutes. He wasn’t going to storm off stage looking for Spencer, but still.
"We’re fine," said Spencer. "Except we’re kind of not."
Ryan sighed so hard into the phone that it went all crackly. "He’s joined another band. He knocked up a fan. He’s really the crown prince of Genovia and we need to give him a makeover and send him back."
"He kissed me."
Ryan sighed. "It doesn’t mean anything, it’s Brendon. When he’s bored he makes out with whomever’s closest. I think he’d make out with Hobo. She’d probably just lick him back, too."
"Yeah, no, I know," said Spencer uncomfortably.
"In fact, didn’t he make out with Jon one time at Pete’s New Year’s party?"
Spencer wanted to strangle the phone. Ryan was being so reasonable. Spencer hated that; he was supposed to be the reasonable one. "I know, but I think this was different," said Spencer.
"Tell me you don’t think he meant anything by it," Ryan ordered. Spencer waited a second, trying to figure out how to phrase his answer, exactly. "Spencer! Jesus fucking Christ, I leave you alone for three weeks-"
"Stop," said Spencer. "I know, it’s Brendon, he’s just fucking around. I just wanted to tell you about it. So it wouldn’t be weird when I got back."
"Mmm hmm," said Ryan. His tone made it clear he knew Spencer was lying, but he was letting it go. "And when are you coming back?"
Spencer pulled his scarf a little tighter and sat down on a cinderblock behind the bus. "End of the tour, I guess," he said. "We’re getting Zack out here ASAP. Some girl mauled Brendon, he was fucking bleeding she yanked on him so hard."
"Is he okay?" asked Ryan. "I knew this was a bad idea. Damn it, I knew this was a bad idea."
"It’s not like they never tried when it was all four of us," Spencer pointed out.
"Right, but I was there," Ryan said. "I could… I don’t know, yell for Zack."
"Distract the fans with your bony ass."
"Right."
Spencer sighed. "It’s fun being out here," he said. "But it’d be more fun with you and Jon."
"Well, then, don’t let Brendon go getting big starry eyes about his own fucking tours, okay? And don’t let him… Spencer. Be careful."
"I’m fine," said Spencer. He felt cold and his stomach hurt. "I’ll call you later, okay?"
"Okay," said Ryan.
--
Brendon played cards with Dan and Rusty until well after midnight, and then he came back to the bus doing what he had always considered "sneaking." Brendon was the loudest person Spencer had ever met, especially when he was trying to be quiet. He tripped over the couch and knocked a mug on the floor and burst into giggles.
At least three people in the bunks groaned and yelled something like, "Shut up, Brendon!"
Spencer rolled out of bed and walked barefoot out to the living room. "Hey," he said, running a hand through his hair.
Brendon pulled himself to his feet. "Did I wake you up?" he said, a little sheepishly. "You weren’t around after the show, I figured maybe you were asleep."
"No, I… I had to make some phone calls."
Brendon nodded. "Ryan?"
"Um. Yeah."
"Okay," said Brendon. He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet a couple of times. "Next time tell him I said hi."
"He says not to let any more fans try and get your blood," said Spencer. It was so awkward, and it was worse because there were people right there, listening.
Brendon’s jeans were so low that he could just barely squeeze the tips of his fingers into his pockets. "I’ll work on that," he said.
"Okay," said Spencer.
"Okay," said Brendon.
It was dark in the lounge. Spencer could hear people snoring in the bunks, and other people breathing impatiently, waiting for them to shut up so they could get to sleep. "Six more shows," said Spencer.
Brendon nodded a couple of times. "Glad you’re sticking around," he said. "I’m gonna… G’night."
"Night," said Spencer. Brendon pushed past him and into the dark without tripping over anything else, and Spencer sighed and went back to bed.
--
The cool thing about Zack was he took over immediately, and suddenly Spencer didn’t have that much to do anymore. He spent more time hanging out with the bands and less time trying to keep Brendon organized, because Zack was way better at that anyway.
"You look bored," said Brendon, hanging off his shoulder in the lounge.
Spencer tried to shrug him off, but Brendon was clingy like a baby koala when he wanted to be. Then again, the one time Spencer had met a baby koala the stupid thing had tried to bite him. "Zack made me superfluous," he said.
Brendon made a face. "Just because Ryan’s not here doesn’t mean I need you getting all Scrabble champion on me," he said.
"Useless, I’m useless," Spencer translated. "And yeah, a little bored."
"I have an idea how we could amuse ourselves," said Brendon, leering outrageously.
Spencer didn’t say anything, so Brendon untangled himself from Spencer and sat up. "I was just kidding," he said uncomfortably. "Relax, Spence, I’m not gonna-"
"Wait," said Spencer, catching his arm.
Brendon looked at him doubtfully. "Sorry, I was just playing," Brendon said, but he didn’t try and pull away.
"I know," said Spencer. "But if you weren’t…"
He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. He’d never really consider how he’d make the offer. Spencer looked at Brendon, who was inexplicably flushed and breathing hard.
"I’m not interested in just kidding," Spencer said. He let go of Brendon and turned back to his phone.
Brendon sat there for a long time, not saying anything.
--
"She is talking," Jon insisted. "Wait, listen. Okay, Paz, say hi! Say hi, honey!"
There was a load of babble and spitting noises on Spencer’s phone, but nothing that could conceivably have been a word.
"There, see?" Jon said triumphantly. "She can say daddy!"
"If you say so," Spencer agreed.
"Dude, clear as a bell! Daddy!" Jon made a cooing noise and Spencer rolled his eyes.
Brendon was trying not to laugh, and having a really hard time of it. He was on the brink of crying, shoulders shaking. Spencer tried not to look.
"Did you hear that?" Spencer asked Brendon. Brendon shook his head. "Yeah, we vote no."
"I can’t believe you guys are hating on my baby!" Jon said.
Brendon fell over on the couch. Spencer kicked him. "We love your baby," Spencer assured Jon. "You just happen to also be insane."
Paz, on the other end of the phone, said, "Bah bah bah dada."
"Holy shit," said Brendon, sitting up. "You heard that?"
"I told you!" Jon yelled. "She can totally say daddy!"
"Say Brendon," Brendon demanded. "C’mon, baby girl, say Brendon."
"She’s not gonna say Brendon before she says mommy," Jon pointed out.
"Especially not when she hasn’t seen you in what, three months?" Spencer added.
Brendon made a tremendously pouty face.
"Speaking of which," said Jon. "Uh. How’s the whole… The whole tour thing?"
Spencer looked curiously at Brendon, who tended to lie when cornered. "Fantastic," said Brendon automatically, and then caught Spencer looking at him. "I mean, uh. Kind of weird without you and Ryan around. I like performing, but I don’t like going on stage by myself as much as… You should come see a show, dude."
"You should come to Chicago," Jon countered. "I’m not traveling much these days."
"You could rent an apartment in Vegas, and you and Cassie could come out and stay for a while," Spencer suggested.
"Maybe," said Jon. "I don’t know, I’ll have to run it by-Awww, man. I have to go. Diaper issues."
After they hung up, Brendon sighed and flopped on the couch a little. "Aren’t we kind of young to have babies and second houses and shit?" he asked wistfully.
Spencer petted his shoulder. "Ryan and Jon have both been ninety since they were nineteen," he said.
Brendon giggled again. "Thus, the grandpa sweaters," he said.
Spencer laughed. "What bunch of teenage rockstars doesn’t wear striped cardigans and sweater vests?"
"None I wanna be a part of," Brendon said. "Diaper problems, Jesus. Hey, we should go visit Jon when the tour’s done. Before Paz gets a boyfriend and moves out and we miss the whole thing."
"Yeah, okay," said Spencer. "Is this a serious thing, like I should buy tickets, or is this a goofy Brendon forget-about-it-five-minutes-later thing?"
"Serious," said Brendon. "I’m gonna buy her stuff, so she doesn’t like Ryan best. That’d be fucked up."
"Yeah," Spencer agreed, and started surfing for tickets.
--
By the end of the tour Brendon’s set was really solid.
"Don’t tell me that," Ryan said. "I don’t wanna hear that."
"We’re going to Chicago, you and Keltie should come too," said Spencer.
"Tell me exactly what he’s playing and what it sounds like," Ryan ordered. "No, don’t. Wait, yes, do."
"You’ve heard the CD, that’s what he’s playing," Spencer said patiently.
"It’s not selling, right?"
"Could you be a little less of a bastard?"
Ryan was apologetically quiet. "I’m just…" he said finally. "Listen. Tell him I said congratulations, okay?"
"We’ll be back in Vegas after we’re back in Chicago. Or you could call him yourself."
"He doesn’t want me to, I don’t think," Ryan said.
Spencer closed his eyes and prayed for patience. "Don’t," he said. "Ryan, I swear to god."
"You think I should?" asked Ryan in a small voice.
"Yes," Spencer managed. The ‘you fucking idiot’ was implied.
"Oh," said Ryan.
--
The end of tour party was out of control. Spencer tried hiding near the door, because most of the tour was under twenty-one, and hadn’t learned anything about holding their liquor yet. Spencer didn’t need teenager vomit all over himself; he and Brendon had a pretty early flight to Chicago scheduled.
"Were we this bad?" asked Brendon.
"What do you mean ‘we,’" Spencer scoffed. "You were at least this shitfaced last week with Ronnie."
Brendon looked thoughtful. "I’ve definitely grown and changed since then," he said. "Look at me, only drinking two beers."
"Who are you, and what have you done with Brendon Urie?" Spencer said. "No one will ever believe this happened."
Brendon stuck his tongue out and went back to peeling the label off his beer. "I am a model of constraint," he said.
"Plus, clearly, you just learned the word constraint."
"Word-of-the-day dictionary from Keltie for my birthday."
Spencer laughed. "Seriously, you aren’t here tonight to go get fucked up?"
"Seriously," Brendon said, shaking his head.
Spencer raised an eyebrow at him. Brendon stared hard at his sneakers.
--
Brendon refused to wake up for their flight. "Up," Spencer said. "Up, seriously, motherfucker, get up."
Brendon made a muffled moaning sound and burrowed further under the blankets.
"Dude," Spencer complained. "I’m gonna throw cold water on you."
"You wouldn’t, really," said Brendon around a yawn.
"Fuck yeah, I would."
Spencer made the mistake of reaching under the blankets to grab Brendon, which turned into a wrestling match, Spencer tugging on Brendon’s wrist and Brendon kicking him in the knee and blankets getting in both of their way. Spencer had to brace himself against the bed, and when Brendon finally did fall out on the floor he landed half on Spencer.
"Owww, jackass," Brendon moaned, but he was giggling.
There was a blanket between them, which was good, because Brendon slept mostly-naked. "We have to be at the airport in half an hour," Spencer said. Brendon was propped up on one hand, leaning over Spencer. It would have been easy to knock that hand out from under him, to have Brendon right on top of him, to get rid of the blanket and-
"Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna brush my teeth and put on pants and I’m good to go," said Brendon, rolling off Spencer. He got to his feet and stretched and walked into the hotel bathroom.
Spencer reminded himself sternly that Brendon’s ass in rainbow-colored underwear was something to mock, not admire.
--
Jon and Paz were waiting at the gate of the airport. A lesser baby probably couldn’t have handled it, but Paz was perfectly happy, clinging to her dad’s sweatshirt and chewing idly on her fist. She was wearing a baby fedora, Spencer noticed, which had to be Ryan’s fault.
"Dude!" said Jon happily.
"I would hug you," said Brendon, "but, y’know, baby." He held out his hands and Paz clapped at him. That was Brendon’s cue to steal the baby, apparently. He tossed her around a little, which made her giggle, and then proceeded to baby talk her outrageously, making muppet faces.
"Dude," said Jon to Spencer, and they hugged.
"Miss you," said Spencer. "You know you’re never getting the baby back, right?"
Jon looked at Brendon, holding Paz over his head at arm’s length while she giggled and reached for his glasses. "Why do you think I invited you?" said Jon. "Free babysitting."
--
Cassie took one look at Brendon and Paz and said, "Awesome, I call first nap."
"I already called it," said Jon, and they argued a little, trying to be the first one into the bedroom. "That room is for you guys," said Jon, pointing to the guest room, "unless one of you wants the couch. Paz gets the room with the crib and shit. Okay, see you in like, six hours."
The bedroom door shut, and Spencer said, "Napping. Right."
Brendon pretended to cover Paz’s ears. "She doesn’t need to know what they’re up to," he said primly. "Not unless it gets her a little brother or something."
"Oh my god," said Spencer, a little horrified. "They’re going to have a million kids, aren’t they? A whole gang of little Walker-people."
"And they’ll all be better than you at Mario Kart," Brendon agreed. Paz made a fretful noise, and Brendon swung her around a little. "What do you need, baby girl? New diaper? Lunch? To be mine forever and ever and ever?" Paz knuckled her eyes and put her head down on his shoulder.
"I’ll put our stuff in there," said Spencer. "You don’t mind sharing, right?" They’d shared a bed a hundred times, it was no big deal, except for how Brendon was always ten degrees warmer than the room, and now there was kind of… There was kind of something between them.
"I can always sleep in the crib," Brendon offered, not looking at him. He petted Paz’s head.
"Shut up," said Spencer, dragging their suitcases into the guestroom. There were baby toys all over the floor. Jon’s apartment had never been super neat, but now there was baby debris everywhere he looked. There was a stack of Baby Einstein DVDs on the pillow and three sets of pink baby shoes blocking the door from closing.
Brendon was sitting on the couch with Paz, curled up against his chest. He looked really normal like that, actually. Spencer had seen him with at least three hundred tiny Urie nephews and nieces and cousins. "You should get your own," said Spencer, sitting down next to him.
"Nah," said Brendon quietly. "I like it when you can give them back eventually." He rubbed the back of Paz’s hand until she reached out and grabbed his finger, clinging sleepily.
Spencer kicked his feet up on the table, dislodging a small army of baby bottles and diaper pins. "We have to get Jon to move to Vegas, at least part-time."
"Yeah," said Brendon absently. "Hey, did I tell you, Ryan called me?"
"Oh," said Spencer, trying to sound neutral. "Yeah? What did he say?"
"Uh, congratulations and stuff. It barely sounded like you forced him into it."
"I didn’t force him-"
Brendon snorted. "I think I know what Ryan sounds like when someone’s forcing him to be nice," he said.
"He’s nice on his own," said Spencer defensively. "He just needs a push sometimes."
"I’m glad you’re around to push him, then," said Brendon. "Spencer, hey…"
Spencer looked up, and Brendon was looking at him, lips pressed together, unusually serious expression on his face. "Yeah?" asked Spencer. His throat felt dry.
"I… Nothing," said Brendon, and looked away.
"What?" said Spencer. He wasn’t sure why his heart was beating so fast. "Brendon, what?" He poked Brendon in the side with one finger.
"Ow, fucker, don’t wake the baby up," Brendon ordered. "If she cries you get to tell Jon and Cassie why their special mommy-daddy time is interrupted."
"Eww," said Spencer, temporarily distracted. "Paz never cries, anyway."
"Go get her a bottle," Brendon ordered imperiously. Spencer sighed and got up, and forgot to interrogate him about what he’d been going to say.
--
They had dinner with Jon and Cassie, and Paz went to sleep early enough that they all got to hang out and do nothing for a while, with Sports Center on in the background. "Tell me about your solo tour," said Cassie, smacking Brendon’s leg.
He laughed. "It’s good," he said. "It was, I guess. It was really weird to be up there by myself, I don’t know, I like the audience."
"Okay, but did you quit the band?" Cassie asked.
There was a really long silence. Jon started to stand up, saying, "I think someone should check on the baby-"
"She’s fine," said Cassie. "C’mon, Brendon."
Brendon looked at Spencer, who shrugged and tried to focus on the TV, not the weird boiling feeling in his stomach.
"Of course I didn’t quit," said Brendon finally. "I couldn’t… I wouldn’t know what to do… No. But they were on a break and I needed something to do, so." He shrugged uncomfortably.
"Okay," said Cassie, and kissed his cheek. "I was just checking."
Brendon fidgeted with his shoelaces. Spencer leaned over and put a hand on Brendon’s knee, to stop it from bouncing up and down.
"Who wants dessert?" Jon asked. "We have brownies. Just regular ones, though."
"Me," said Spencer. "And Brendon."
Cassie said, "Who wants to see the four hundred pictures Jon took last week of Paz in the park?" and things got back to normal.
--
Spencer and Brendon had shared beds before, but it felt smaller this time for some reason. Maybe because he was more aware of Brendon than usual, or maybe because Brendon seemed more restless than usual. He was all elbows and knees, rolling over and trying to get comfortable and then rolling over again. Every time he moved he bumped into Spencer.
"Dude, seriously," said Spencer.
Brendon sat up. "I can go sleep on the couch," he offered. "I can’t… I’m not going to be able to sleep anyway."
He threw back the blankets. Spencer sat up, too, and grabbed his arm. "No, hang on," he said. "You just need to relax. C’mon." He pulled Brendon backwards until he was lying down again, rigid under Spencer’s hand. "Deep breaths," Spencer ordered. He moved over until he was lying pressed against Brendon’s side, deliberately breathing slowly.
Brendon was burning hot, and Spencer could feel his heart racing. "Seriously, just relax," said Spencer.
"You’re not really conducive to me feeling relaxed," said Brendon, with a rueful little laugh.
Spencer thought about that for a second. And then, like he’d been wanting to do for a while, he leaned over and kissed Brendon.
Brendon didn’t move, which was weird, but he was sort of pinned under Spencer’s arm. Spencer waited for a heartbeat, and then Brendon opened his mouth, winding his arms around Spencer and pulling him up on top of Brendon. He bit at Spencer’s lip and rubbed his hips against Spencer’s.
Spencer felt hot and tingly all over. He hadn’t realized he knew what Brendon smelled like until he was surrounded by it. He wanted to rip off his t-shirt so he was touching Brendon everywhere, and he wanted Jon and Cassie not to be sleeping in the next room over, so he could make Brendon yell. He was sure he could make Brendon yell; they’d overheard each other having sex on the buses enough that Spencer was confident about Brendon’s volume in bed.
It took all of Spencer’s self-control to make him straighten his arms, so he was holding himself over Brendon. Brendon’s chest was heaving, mouth redder than usual, and even in the dark Spencer could tell his eyes were a little unfocused. "Hi," Brendon laughed.
"I’m serious," said Spencer as sternly as he could manage. "I don’t want kidding around, Brendon, are you… You’ve been acting like you want me. So if you don’t, tell me. I’ll go sleep on the couch."
"And leave me here, all by myself?" Brendon teased, running his hand over Spencer’s chest.
Spencer closed his eyes. "Stop," he said. "Brendon-"
Brendon grabbed Spencer’s t-shirt with both hands and pulled until Spencer landed on top of him. Brendon leaned up and kissed him, open-mouthed, tongue winding lazily around Spencer’s. He was a good kisser, Spencer had to admit. Of course, he’d had enough practice.
"I want you," Brendon said quietly. "If I wore a sign on my shirt, if I painted it on my forehead I couldn’t be more obvious about it." He rolled his hips against Spencer’s, and Spencer had to bite his lip and focus on his breathing for a minute.
"Okay," said Spencer. "We can try it. We can try this."
Brendon angled his leg between Spencer’s and rolled them over. "Yeah?" he said, smiling big and goofy. "I can be good, Spencer, you wait."
"I don’t want good, I want you," said Spencer. He was a little embarrassed as soon as he’d said it, but… Hell, it was true.
Brendon grinned wickedly. "My bad is pretty spectacular," he promised, and kissed Spencer again.
--
Jon was up when Spencer walked out to the kitchen, nursing a coffee and sitting at the island. Paz was crawling around on the floor by his feet, trying to eat a variety of colorful toys and baby hats.
"Morning," said Spencer. His voice was low and scratchy and his throat hurt a little, which was entirely Brendon’s fault.
"Hey," said Jon. "Busy night?"
Spencer stopped in the middle of pouring himself a coffee. "Uh," he said intelligently. "What do you mean?"
Jon just raised an eyebrow.
"Shit," Spencer said, "Did we wake you up?"
"I was up with Paz," Jon said. "I couldn’t help but overheard. Have you been… Is that new? Or is that why you went on tour with him?"
"It’s new," Spencer said quickly. "We’re just trying it out. To see if it works." That made Brendon sound like a new kind of soap or something, which wasn’t what Spencer meant, but he also couldn’t get rid of Ryan’s cautioning, disapproving voice in the back of his head.
"Oh," said Jon, looking a little puzzled. "Did you tell Ryan?"
Spencer wasn’t going to fidget, and he wasn’t going to be embarrassed. It was hard not to blush a little, though. "We’re going to," he said.
"Anyway, it’s none of my business," said Jon. "You want some Cheerios? They’re Paz’s food of choice."
"Sure," said Spencer, sitting down at the island. It wasn’t that weird. They were all friends. It was cool.
--
It was a little cold to go sight-seeing in Chicago, so they mostly stayed in. Jon and Cassie went grocery shopping and left Paz with them, but she was sleepy and ended up napping half the time. Brendon sang her to sleep with Backstreet Boys songs and then kept singing them, wandering Jon’s apartment.
"Dude," said Spencer. "You’ve been singing that song for an hour. Sing something else."
Brendon had been poking at Jon’s record collection, but he obligingly started humming something else. It took Spencer a second to figure out what it was.
"Not the Pussycat Dolls," Spencer groaned. "Are you seriously a twelve-year-old girl?"
Brendon gave him a dirty look. "Fuck you," he said. He walked over and straddled Spencer’s lap, singing archly, "You say you’re a big boy, but I can’t agree-"
Spencer swatted him on the leg. "Hey," he said, laughing.
"-‘cause the love you say you have ain’t been put on me-" Brendon said, leaning forward with his arms resting on Spencer’s shoulders.
"Stop," Spencer ordered. He was smiling all goofily, which probably wasn’t very useful for getting Brendon to do what he wanted. Brendon didn’t listen well even when people were being serious.
"I don’t wanna stop, we just started," Brendon complained, leaning forward for a kiss. Spencer tilted his face up. Brendon kissed him lightly a couple of times and then moved so he could bite Spencer’s ear.
"The door is open to Paz’s room," said Spencer, closing his eyes. He was shivery all over.
"Well, then, don’t wake her up," said Brendon, dropping his voice to a growl. He moved from Spencer’s ear down his neck, and everywhere he touched was burning hot. Spencer wrapped his arms around Brendon’s waist, scooting him forward a little more.
"Jon and Cassie could get home any minute," Spencer added.
"Hmm," Brendon agreed. He stopped biting Spencer’s neck long enough to giggle, "I’m giving you a hickey. Because we are in seventh grade."
Brendon’s teeth hurt, but not too much; just enough to make Spencer’s whole body light up. "Do you like me, check yes or no," Spencer said.
"Depends," said Brendon, sliding his hands under Spencer’s shirt. He pushed the fingers of one hand down under Spencer’s waistband. "What are you gonna do for me?"
Spencer had a list. "You wait until we get back to Vegas," he said. His voice had dropped to a rough growl, and if Brendon didn’t move soon Paz was going to be a traumatized toddler. "And there are no interruptions, or babies, and it’s my house-"
Brendon sat up abruptly. "Why your house?" he asked. "Why not mine?"
"Because-" Spencer started, and then realized That was where Haley always stayed was probably a really bad answer. He hadn’t even realized he was thinking that. "Oh. No reason. We can trade off."
Brendon looked uncomfortable and a little suspicious. "So you think when we get home, that we’ll… I don’t know, are you making plans? "
"For what?" Spencer asked, bewildered.
"Nothing, never mind," said Brendon. He stood up. "I’m gonna check on Paz."
"She’s fine," said Spencer, but Brendon had already gone.
--
Spencer spent most of the flight home making lists in his head. Ways Brendon is like Haley. Brendon was fun, and he was funny. He was affectionate and cute and cuddly. The Ways Brendon is nothing like Haley list was much longer. Brendon wasn’t jealous of the band, or the time Spencer spent touring. Brendon wasn’t likely to bring up marriage all the time. Brendon had a ferocious temper that showed up with no warning. Brendon didn’t seem to like being taken care of.
It was all stuff Spencer could adjust to. He needed to stop himself from expecting things, just because Haley had done them. That was the problem with having only dated one person really seriously. It made the transition difficult.
Brendon was snoring against the open window, but he snuffled a little and blinked sleepily at Spencer. "Planning what you’re gonna say to Ross?" he asked. His words were blurry with sleep.
"No," said Spencer. "Not yet."
"He’s gonna be pissed," Brendon sing-songed. His eyes started to sink shut again. "More pissed, I mean. You’re gonna defend me, right?"
"What could Ryan possibly do?" Spencer asked. "Glare at you? Withhold makeup?"
"You don’t know ‘cause he doesn’t get mad at you," Brendon yawned. He shifted his jacket up against the window so he could rest against it.
"He gets mad at me," Spencer objected, but Brendon was asleep again.
--
Shane picked Brendon up at the airport. Brendon had a ton of luggage and his guitar and he needed a ride, obviously, but Spencer was a tiny bit sad that he wasn’t driving Brendon back himself. "So I’ll see you," Spencer said awkwardly. Regan and Shane were looking at them, arms full of Brendon’s stuff. "You should come over. We should… hang out."
"Is ‘hang out’ secret code for having lots of sex?" Brendon asked brightly. Shane choked a little.
Spencer’s face turned red. "It... Yeah," he said. "You totally don’t understand the entire point of secret code, huh?"
"Nope," said Brendon cheerfully. He kissed Spencer, open-mouthed and a little bit lazy, until Shane cleared his throat meaningfully. "Call me when you’re free," said Brendon, backing off a step. "I’m sure you and Ryan have important best-friend stuff to do, and then-"
"You have to talk to him," said Spencer.
"Yeah, eventually. Bye," said Brendon. He waved and followed Shane and Reagan out to the parking lot.
Spencer flipped open his phone. "Hey, dude," he said. "We just landed, I’m gonna take a cab to your place, okay?"
"Is he coming with you?" asked Ryan.
"No," said Spencer. "He’s gonna go home and unpack. And then maybe he’ll come by so we can all hang out." He thought about telling Ryan over the phone that he’d slept with Brendon, and he was planning to do it again. That way if Ryan flipped out Spencer could go to his own house and avoid him. But it was probably best done in person, and Spencer wasn’t scared of Ryan. If worst came to worst, he could hide behind Keltie.
Ryan made a disgruntled noise. "I’ll see you in a few," he said.
Spencer’s heart leapt up into his throat. "Yeah," he said. He could handle this. "Okay."
--
Ryan said, "Huh, he’s really not with you."
Spencer rolled his eyes. "I told you," he said, dumping his suitcase in the living room. "What smells good?"
"Keltie got this Martha Stewart magazine subscription," said Ryan. "I’m learning to cook."
"You burned spaghetti," Spencer objected. "Twice."
Ryan shrugged. "I am growing as a person," he said. "He’s really, really not with you?" He looked over Spencer’s shoulder, like Brendon might be lurking out on the sidewalk.
"There was a terrible accident," said Spencer gravely, "and now Brendon is invisible. I hope you can forgive me."
Ryan punched him lightly on the arm. Hobo ran up and wagged her tail hopefully, until Spencer opened his hands and she figured out there were no treats in them. She barked at him and went back to sleep.
"You’ve disappointed my dog," said Ryan.
Spencer shrugged. "It’s a good thing she can only remember things for a couple of seconds then, huh? Listen, Ryan…"
"Yeah?" said Ryan, heading into the kitchen. "Oh man, my chicken’s going to burn."
"Because you are a terrible cook," Spencer agreed. "Hey, I need to tell you something."
Ryan poured chicken stock from a box into his pan and then swore as smoke bubbled up over the stove. "Motherfucker," he said. "I told Keltie I could make dinner."
"Ryan," Spencer complained. "You haven’t seen me in weeks. Can I seriously not get thirty seconds of your attention?"
Ryan stirred busily. "Is this about you and Brendon? Because Jon called."
"He… Oh."
Spencer waited, and Ryan checked on all the stuff on the stove. Spencer didn’t want to demand So what do you think? in case it was something bad, but he also hated standing around in weird silence.
"So?" he said finally.
"So what?" said Ryan. "You called me about this a couple of weeks ago, I told you what I think."
"It’s… It’s good, though," said Spencer.
"Okay," said Ryan.
"I’m gonna make him come over for dinner, tomorrow maybe? You guys should talk to each other anyway, about all the… You know. There’s a lot of stuff to talk about."
Ryan nodded a little bit, but that didn’t mean he agreed. "I guess," he said.
"Ryan-"
"Look," Ryan said, a little snappish. "If you’ve decided I don’t know what I’m talking about and you’d rather hang around with him-"
"Oh my god," said Spencer, sitting heavily on a stool. "You are both insane. When did I miss the band memo about everyone fighting over me? I would have demanded presents, you know, and wooing and shit."
"I’m not fighting with him over you." Ryan crossed his arms and huffed.
Spencer held out his hand. "Where’s my box of chocolates and my bouquet, jackass? How’d you get a hot girl like Keltie when you’re so completely shitty at this?"
Ryan stared at Spencer for a long minute. Then he clanged his spoon angrily against the pot side a couple of times. "You’re my best friend. What if this fucks up the band? What if he and I are having a fight? Whose side are you going to take? What if he fucks you over and you’re fighting with him, what am I supposed to do? What if you fuck him over, and he gets mad at you? What if-"
"Holy shit," said Spencer. "What if you take a deep fucking breath?"
Ryan waved his spoon around, and hot chicken grease flew through the air. Hobo came running in hopefully. "If you two fight it’s going to fuck everything up, and newsflash, he’s really good at fucking things up."
"Are you warning me?" Spencer asked. "I honest to god can’t tell who you’re worried about."
"Asshole," said Ryan. "The thing is, you’re tough. You handled the whole Haley thing a lot better than I would have. If this gets fucked up, you’ll probably deal with it eventually."
"It’s been like, three days," Spencer said. "No one proposed marriage."
"Brendon’s not," said Ryan.
Spencer blinked. "Brendon’s not what?"
"Tough." Ryan sighed and grabbed a sliver of hot chicken out of the pan for Hobo, who was dancing frantically around his ankles. "I don’t think he’s actually serious about this, but if he is … Fucking this up would hurt him."
"He’s tougher than you think," said Spencer. He thought about the terrible show Brendon had played. He thought about how scary it must have been to plan a solo tour without telling the band.
"No," said Ryan quietly. "He’s not."
"Can I have dinner, or are you giving the whole thing to the mutt?" asked Spencer. He wished Brendon were there. They could have held hands under the table and made fun of Ryan, which, come to think of it, they’d been doing for years.
"No one eats until Keltie gets home," said Ryan. "I mean, except Hobo, obviously. Maybe if you were as cute as my dog-"
"I’m plenty cute." Spencer batted his eyes at Ryan.
Ryan snorted and put a lid on the pan. It was totally going to burn again. "Save it for Brendon," he said.
--
Spencer felt really weird knocking on Brendon’s door. Shane had moved out, so it wasn’t like Spencer was going to have explain himself to anyone, plus Shane totally knew.
Still. It was weird.
Brendon answered the door with his glasses on and his hair sticking up at funny angles. "You didn’t call," he said, but he looked surprised and happy. "You’re not staying at Ryan’s?"
"I had dinner with them," said Spencer. "And then I thought, hey, I haven’t seen Brendon in like… A couple of hours."
Brendon bit his lip and looked down for a second. "Yeah," he said. "That was a long time, huh?" He looked up, watching Spencer through his lashes. He had way too much practice flirting for a total dork, Spencer thought.
"So I can come in?" Spencer asked. He didn’t know why he felt so tense; it was just Brendon. It wasn’t even a date. He’d gone over to Brendon’s house a million times.
"Well," said Brendon. He leaned against the doorframe. "I don’t know." He drawled the word out a little, crossing his arms, hip cocked against the wall.
"Oh, really?" said Spencer, stepping forward. "Maybe I can persuade you."
Brendon hummed a little and shrugged.
Spencer stepped forward again, right up in Brendon’s space. Spencer liked being a little taller; no matter how much Brendon smirked he still had to look up to meet Spencer’s eyes. Spencer put his hand on top of Brendon’s and nudged Brendon’s mouth with his own until Brendon tilted his head up further and opened his mouth for a kiss.
"So how about it?" Spencer asked, pulling back a little. His heart was racing; it was weird what kissing Brendon did to him.
Brendon blinked hazily. "You… Oh, coming in?" he said. "Were you seriously asking?" He tugged on Spencer’s shirt. "Did you miss the part where I’m totally easy for you?"
"I’m trying to be a gentleman," Spencer joked.
Brendon looked confused for a second, and then he smiled and shrugged. "Okay," he said. "Sure."
Spencer frowned, and he would have said something, but Brendon grabbed his hand and started pulling him upstairs. "You already had dinner, but I have beer and chips and shit," Brendon said. "Since you’re being gentlemanly and all. Or we could skip that part. I have a really nice bed." He leered at Spencer, but the effect was ruined a little bit because he was laughing.
"We could do both," Spencer bargained, trying to figure out what felt off about this conversation.
"Right," said Brendon. "My couch is pretty awesome for sex, too. At least, Shane and Reagan never complained."
"Eww, that’s-" Spencer started, but as soon as they were in the living room Brendon plastered himself to Spencer’s front, hands tucked in Spencer’s back pockets. Brendon kissed Spencer’s jaw, and his mouth rasping over Spencer’s stubble made Spencer shiver. "Yeah, okay," said Spencer. He grabbed Brendon’s t-shirt and yanked until Brendon moved, so Spencer could pull it off over his head. Brendon’s hands went for the fly of Spencer’s jeans as Spencer kicked his sneakers off, walking Brendon backward toward the couch.
Brendon hit the couch and sat down, hard, and Spencer climbed on top of him. Spencer liked extended make out sessions and friendly groping, but Brendon always seemed sort of desperate to get straight to the sex. Spencer wasn’t going to complain. Brendon took off his glasses and dropped them on the rug, and then got Spencer’s jeans open and wiggled his hand down, wrapping fingers that were just a little too dry and rough around Spencer’s dick.
"Oh, dude," Spencer moaned, bracing his hands against the back of the couch. He leaned down and kissed Brendon. Brendon started moving his hand slowly, and Spencer’s hips jerked forward.
"I’m gonna break my wrist at this angle," said Brendon, laughing a little. "Can I-Can you-" He wiggled around a little.
Spencer didn’t want to move; he didn’t have his entire brain online, he just wanted skin and touching and movement. "You have to play guitar," he said, which didn’t totally make sense. He shoved and Brendon scooted over, until Brendon was on his back on the couch with one foot braced against the floor, and Spencer was on his side against the back of the couch, holding himself up with one arm.
"See, this I can work with," Brendon said. He kissed Spencer again, moving his hand faster and every time he twisted his hand over the tip of Spencer’s cock, Spencer saw sparks around the edges of his vision.
"Holy shit," said Spencer, trying to catch his breath.
"Right?" Brendon agreed smugly. "Do you want me to finish like this, or do you want my mouth?"
Spencer’s brain shorted out for a minute. Brendon stopped moving his hand. "You don’t have to-" Spencer managed.
Brendon rolled his eyes. "I don’t have to do anything," he agreed. "Jesus, you make this so much more complicated than it has to be." He rolled over and on top of Spencer, who had to scoot over to be on his back. "Shit, your jeans are tight." Brendon sat up on his knees and started pulling at Spencer’s jeans, tugging them down around his thighs.
Spencer pushed himself up on his elbows. "Hang on," he said, "I still have my shirt on. You still have your jeans on."
"If you’re still thinking about that then I’m doing this all wrong," said Brendon mournfully. He had Spencer’s jeans down almost to his knees, and yeah, maybe skinny jeans were a bad idea. Brendon pulled Spencer’s shorts down, too, and grinned when Spencer’s dick sprang free. "Ready?"
"For-" Spencer started, and then Brendon leaned down and started sucking him off, one hand around the base of Spencer’s cock, and Spencer thumped back down on the couch with a moan.
Brendon was straddling his legs, so Spencer didn’t have to worry too much about not bucking up into his mouth. He clutched the couch with one hand and braced the other one against the arm of the couch behind his head, and bit his lip, so he wouldn’t say anything too horrifically embarrassing. Brendon was enthusiastic and he kept making these noises and doing this thing with his tongue over the underside of Spencer’s cock.
"Shit, Brendon," Spencer gasped, flailing around a little with one hand to try and warn Brendon that he was getting close. Brendon sucked harder and loosened his other hand and Spencer’s vision whited out. His heart was pounding in his ears, and everything tingled everywhere.
When he blinked himself back awake Brendon was sitting back on his heels, looking awfully proud of himself. "Better than dinner at Ryan’s, huh?" he said.
"Oh, fuck you," Spencer laughed, grabbing his arm. He pulled Brendon down, kissing him, and ignoring how he tasted a little bit saltier than usual. Brendon made a happy noise against Spencer’s mouth, pushing his hands up under Spencer’s t-shirt. "My turn," Spencer said, getting a little growly. "Why are you still dressed?"
"Because you’re a gentleman," said Brendon, batting his eyelashes. He twisted around so he could undo the buttons on his jeans, shimmying out of them a lot faster than anyone wearing jeans so tight ought to have been able to. "Fuck, I want you so much." He rubbed his hips against Spencer’s thigh.
"Wait, then," Spencer said, trying for stern. It mostly came out breathless, and Brendon laughed. Spencer sat up and pulled off his own shirt. Brendon was leaning against the couch, stroking his own dick lazily. "Okay, knock it off, it’s my turn," Spencer said.
"You want help?" Brendon asked.
"No," said Spencer. He licked his hand and then elbowed Brendon’s arm out of the way. He wasn’t as expert at this as Brendon was, but he’d had a few hookups and he’d never had any complaints. Plus, Brendon really was pretty easy; as soon as Spencer started moving his hand Brendon’s eyes fluttered shut and he tipped his head back, mouth open. He looked so fucking pretty, with his cheeks flushed and his dark eyelashes and his ridiculous mouth and his stupid breathy little noises that made Spencer want to do this forever. His hips stuttered forward against Spencer’s, and Spencer’s dick was doing its very best to get interested again.
Spencer leaned forward and kissed Brendon, keeping his hand slow, while Brendon’s hands opened and closed around Spencer’s arms in the same rhythm. "Spencer," Brendon whined. "Come on." He bit Spencer’s bottom lip, pushing his hips forward again.
"It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly to finish too quickly," Spencer chided.
Brendon huffed. Spencer kissed him again. He liked how pliable Brendon was like this; normal Brendon had hidden layers and weird depths and confusing double-meanings, but this Brendon just tugged on Spencer’s hair and made a gorgeous little pleading noise against Spencer’s mouth. Spencer sped his hand up and was rewarded with Brendon breathing faster, harder, clutching Spencer’s arms so tightly he was going to leave bruises.
Spencer wanted to say something stupid about how much he really liked Brendon, how gorgeous he was, how much Spencer liked this thing that they were doing right now. But some Brendon-instinct he had warned him that Brendon wouldn’t handle it well, and Spencer was enjoying himself too much to get into an argument.
Brendon’s hands flexed and then his fingers splayed out, and he made a little "aaaah," noise as his hips jerked. Spencer kept moving his hand until Brendon started breathing again, and then Spencer looked around for something to wipe his hand off on. Brendon’s jeans were the nearest thing at hand that was washable.
"Motherfucker," said Brendon hazily. "I saw that. You’re doing my laundry." He was smiling, face tucked against Spencer’s shoulder.
"You promised me beer and chips," said Spencer. "What the fuck kind of date involves laundry?"
"Any date that gets you off is a good one," said Brendon. "Get me a beer." He shoved at Spencer’s shoulder.
"It’s your house; you get me a beer," Spencer said.
Brendon’s hair was sticking out in a hundred directions. He sat up and yawned. "You really want a beer?"
Spencer did. He wanted to sit around on the couch and have a drink and just hang out with Brendon, and then maybe have some more sex later, if they were both still awake. "Can we just… Hang out?" said Spencer. "I mean, we can do this again. That’s cool." He kissed Brendon, to make sure there was no miscommunication about that.
"You want to just chill?" asked Brendon, looking a little confused. "Okay. I’ll go get us snacks, I guess." He shrugged and climbed over Spencer, heading into the kitchen.
By the time he got back Spencer had struggled back into his underwear and jeans. He felt weird sitting around naked. Of course, that had never really been an issue for Brendon, who handed him a beer and then sat down next to him.
Spencer flipped through a couple of channels on Brendon’s giant flat-screen TV. "Anything good on?" he asked.
"This late? Nah," said Brendon.
"Awesome," said Spencer.
3/4